Chapter XXIII: Part I

The King is gone from Bambrough Castle,
Long may the Princess mourn;
Long may she stand on the Castle wall,
Looking for his return.

She has knotted the keys upon a string,
And with her she has them taen,
She has cast them o’er her left shoulder,
And to the gate she is gane.

She tripped out, she tripped in,
She tript into the yard;
But it was more for the King’s sake,
Than for the Queen’s regard.

It fell out on a day, the King
Brought the Queen with him home;
And all the Lords in our country,
To welcome them did come.

“Oh welcome, Father!” the Lady cries,
“Unto your halls and bowers;
And so are you, my Stepmother,
For all that is here is yours.”

A Lord said, wondering while she spake,
“This Princess of the North
Surpasses all of female kind
In beauty and in worth.”

The envious Queen replied, “At least,
You might have excepted me:
In a few hours I will her bring
Down to a low degree.

“I will her liken to a Laidley Worm,
That warps about the stone,
And not till Childy Wynd comes back,
Shall she again be won.”