Chapter II

The weeks crept onward slowly, crept slowly--one, two, three;
But never came the young knight, no never more came he.

"Come, it is time that you were wed, for I have sought for you
A bridegroom fitted to your rank, an honest man and true."

"Nay, nay, I prithee, step-dame, there is none that I can wed,
Only my foster brother dear I love, alive or dead.

"With this ring his troth he plighted, and whatever fate betide,
He will come himself full gaily, and claim me for his bride."

"Peace, with thy golden wedding-ring! peace, fool, or I will teach
With blows thy senseless chattering tongue to hold discreeter speech;

"To-morrow thou shalt be the bride, whether thou wilt or not,
Of Giles the neat-herd, honest man: ay, this shall be thy lot."

"Of Giles the neat-herd, saidst thou? oh, I shall die of pain!
Oh mother, dear dead mother, that thou wert in life again!"

"Go, cry and wail without the house; go, feed on misery;
Go, take thy fill of moans and tears, for wedded thou shalt be."

III.

Just then the ancient sexton, with the bell that tolls the dead,
Went up and down the country side, and these the words he said:--

"Pray for the soul of one who was a brave and loyal knight,
Who bare at Nantes a grievous hurt, what time they fought the fight:

"To-morrow eve, at set of sun, amid the gathering gloom,
From the white church they bear him forth, to rest within the tomb."