"
"O Jesus, that one of my maidens were near!
The pains of a mother are on me, I fear."
"Thy maidens are now at a distance from thee,
And thou art alone in the forest with me."
"'Twere better to perish, again and again,
Than thou should'st stand by me, and gaze on my pain."
"Then take off thy kerchief, and cover my head,
And perhaps I may stand in the wise-woman's stead."
"O Christ, that I had but a draught of the wave!
To quench my death-thirst, and my temples to lave."
Sir Middel was to her so tender and true,
And he fetch'd her the drink in her gold-spangled shoe.
The fountain was distant, and when he drew near,
Two nightingales sat there and sang in his ear:
"Thy love, she is dead, and for ever at rest,
With two little babes that lie cold on her breast."
Such was their song; but he heeded them not,
And trac'd his way back to the desolate spot;
But oh, what a spectacle burst on his view!
For all they had told him was fatally true.
He dug a deep grave by the side of a tree,
And buried therein the unfortunate three.
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