Chapter XLI: Part I

In London was young Beichan born,
He longed strange countries for to see;
But he was taen by a savage Moor,
Who handled him right cruellie;

For he viewed the fashions of that land;
Their way of worship viewed he;
But to Mahound, or Termagant,
Would Beichan never bend a knee.

So in every shoulder they’ve putten a bore;
In every bore they’ve putten a tree;
And they have made him trail the wine
And spices on his fair bodie.

They’ve casten him in a dungeon deep,
Where he could neither hear nor see;
For seven years they kept him there,
Till he for hunger’s like to die.

This Moor he had but ae daughter,
Her name was called Susie Pye;
And every day as she took the air,
Near Beichan’s prison she passed by.

O so it fell, upon a day
She heard young Beichan sadly sing:
_My hounds they all go masterless;
My hawks they flee from tree to tree;
My younger brother will heir my land;
Fair England again I’ll never see!_

All night long no rest she got,
Young Beichan’s song for thinking on;
She’s stown the keys from her father’s head,
And to the prison strong is gone.

And she has opend the prison doors,
I wot she opend two or three,
Ere she could come young Beichan at,
He was locked up so curiouslie.

But when she came young Beichan before,
Sore wonderd he that may to see;
He took her for some fair captive;--
“Fair Lady, I pray, of what countrie?”

“O have ye any lands,” she said,
“Or castles in your own countrie,
That ye could give to a lady fair,
From prison strong to set you free?”

“Near London town I have a hall,
With other castles two or three;
I’ll give them all to the lady fair
That out of prison will set me free.”

“Give me the truth of your right hand,
The truth of it give unto me,
That for seven years ye’ll no lady wed,
Unless it be along with me.”

“I’ll give thee the truth of my right hand,
The truth of it I’ll freely gie,
That for seven years I’ll stay unwed,
For the kindness thou dost show to me.”

She’s gi’en him to eat the good spice-cake,
She’s gi’en him to drink the blood-red wine;
She’s bidden him sometimes think on her,
That sae kindly freed him out of pine.

She’s broken a ring from her finger,
And to Beichan half of it gave she:
“Keep it, to mind you of that love
The lady bore that set you free.

“And set your foot on good ship-board,
And haste ye back to your own countrie;
And before that seven years have an end,
Come back again, love, and marry me.”