The Retorted Rune

The Prince he paces up and down.
And deftly swings his blade;
"Fair Margaret, grant me Heaven but this, —
"You for my trothplight maid!

"Fair Margaret, grant me Heaven but this, -
"That you were even mine,
"And never but in my fond arms
"Should you again recline.

"You never but in my fond arms
"Should lay you down to rest;
"And faithful swains I'd choose for you
"To wait on your behest."

The Prince away to the greenwood rode,
And carved the runes with skill,
Such as might witch that gentle maid,
And make her do his will.

Then up and out spake Nicholas,
His best and dearest swain;
"This rune will surely cost your life,
"And bring your soul to bane."

"But little for my life I cared,"
'Twas thus the Prince replied,
"I little cared for life or soul,
"Were only she my bride."

He took the runes, that royal prince,
And so he threw them down,
That just beneath her cloak they leap'd,
Under her scarlet gown.

Nine nights she sat and nine long days
Out on the rocky fell.
And then back on the Prince again
She drove the runic spell.

And fain waB he, the royal prince,
To ride across the land.
And ask the maid in full Assize,
And plight her there his hand.

"I've knelt and sued proud Margaret's love
"Winters not less than three:
"Why should a poor young swain so long
"Have vainly bent the knee?

"I've sued proud Margaret's lily hand,
"Winters not less than five:
"Why should a swain sue maid so long,
"And in hi? suit not thrive?"

"Full five years earlier, noble Prince,
"My hand you might have won,
"If only, what you've done today,
"You from the first had done."