The Disconsolate Lady
PRINCE HEATHEN—A
[_]
The Jovial Rake's Garland, n. d., p. 6, No 4, Bodleian Library,
Douce PP, 164.
1
Lady Margery May sits in her bower,
Sewing at her seem;
By there comes a heathen knight,
From her her maidenhead has tane.
2
He has put her in a tower strong,
With double locks on fifty doors:
‘Lady Margery May, will you ga now?’
‘O ye heathen knight, not yet for you.
3
‘I am asking, you heathen knight;
What I am asking will you grant to me?
Will ye let one of your waitmen
A drink of your well bring to me?’
4
‘Meat nor drink you shall never get,
Nor out of that shall you never come,
Meat nor drink shall you never get,
Until you bear to me daughter or son.’
5
Thus time drew on, and further on,
For travail came this young lady to;
She travailed up, so did she down,
But lighter could she never be.
6
‘An asking, an asking, you heathen knight;
An asking will you grant to me?
Will you give me a scread of silk,
For to row your young son wi?’
7
He took the horse-sheet in his hand,
The tears came twinkling down:
‘Lady Margaret May, will ye ga now?’
‘O ye heathen knight, not yet for you.’
8
‘I'll wash my young son with the milk,
I will dry my young son with the silk;
For hearts will break, and bands will bow;
So dear will I love my lady now!’
