Cloister-Robbing

I'll sing you now a story,
Who listeth, hear my lay,
Of how the young Sir Morten
Betroth'd a lovely may.
The lilies and roses they grow so well,

And full of grace and goodness
The gentle girl he won,
Yet much it vex'd his kinsmen.
For riches she had none.

The lady's kinsmen, they too,
When news of it was spread,.
Swore all by God Almighty,
That her he should not wed.

Him sent from home his father
Beyond the salty Rhine,
And her shut up her kinsmen
In cloister cell to pine.

Sir Morten stay'd the winter,
For winters nine he stay'd,
And all the while was longing
To see his. trothplight maid.

So sorely long'd Sir Morten
To see his lovely bride.
That stay he could no longer,
Tho' for it he had died.

And home he came, Sir Morten,
Back to his native land;
But painful were the tidings
He heard on every hand.

But what of all those tidings
Griev'd him the most of all,
He heard that she, his trulove,
Was doom'd to cloister thrall.

He sought his dearest father;
"My trouble let me tell;
"The maid to whom I'm plighted,
"They've shut in cloister cell."

"Hear thou a father's counsel,
"For her no longer pine,
"But wed this other maiden,
"She's twice as rich as thine.

"Give way no more to borrow,
"But take a father's rede;
"Thine Adelaide has little gold,
"And less of grassy mead."

"I'd rather have my trulove
"In but her scarlet gown,
"Than knight Sir Stige's daughter
"With all that she may own.

"I care not I for treasure,
"Still less for grassy land;
"To Adelaide I've plighted troth,
"And fain would have her hand.

"I caro not I for kinsmen,
"The they were many more;
"I'll keep the word I've plighted,
"The driven to foreign shore."

Off went the young Sir Morten,
And ask'd his brother rede;
"O say how shall my trulove
"From cloister thrall be freed?"

'Go, get thee swathed in grave-clothes,
"And lay thee in thy shell,
"And I will to the cloister ride,
"The gloomy news to tell/'

He laid him down in grave-clothes.
The news was widely spread;
Sir Nilus to the cloister rode,
And wail'd a brother dead.

"My greeting, fair young maidens,
"I'll richly you repay,
"If here within your cloister
"My brother I may lay."

This heard those holy maidens,
And sat there silent all;
But one, the maiden Adelaide,
Let work and scissars fall.

And she it was made answer.
The tears upon her face;
"Here in our cloister chapel
"Make you his resting place.

"Iii this our cloister chapel
"Inter his corpse you may;
"And I, to please his kinsmen,
"Will go there every day.

"In tender years of childhood
"I plighted him my love,
"And how I grieve to lose him,
"Knows only God above:

"That pent I was in cloister,
"Was much against my will;
"Him too his kinsmen banish'd
"Our glowing love to chill."

Then kindly spake Sir Nilus,
And tapp'd her cheek so fair;
"O weep not, maiden Adelaide,
"But banish grief and care/'

"I ne'er shall still my sorrow,
"Or solace ever see,
"For gone is dear Sir Morten,
"Who best could comfort me."

So sorely wept the maiden.
So.frequent fell the tear,
While to the cloister chapel
They bore Sir Morten's bier.

She pray'd beside his coffin
All bending on her knee;
"Christ save thy soul, Sir Morten!
"How dear wast thou to me!"

Two tapers then she lighted,
And bitterly she cried;
"O would that in my cradle
"I long ago had died!

"I've nine long weary winters
"In pining for thee passed;
"Mine eyes had scarce beheld thee,
"And see thee a corpse at last."

While wept that lovely maiden,
And wrung her hands so white,
Her wailing heard Sir Morten,
And laugh'd" and rose upright.

No more could bear Sir Morten
To see her so distrest;
But tossed aside the grave-clothes.
And clasp'd her to his breast.

"Now hear, my dearest trulove,
"Away with grief and care!
"And off with me from cloister,
"As fast as horse can bear.

"In churchyard stand the horses,
"And dark they are of hue,
"And mail-clad all my troopers,
"Will follow thee so true"

He wrapped her up, Sir Morten,
In costly sable pall,
And led her off so gaily
Outside the cloister wall.

The pious nuns around her
Stood reading in their book,
They thought 'twas some good angel,
Their sister from them took.

There stood those holy maidens,
And warmly did they pray,
"Would God there came such angel
"Me too to fetch awayT

Bravo the young Sir Morten!
He wavered not the least,
But to his dwelling brought her.
And made his marriage feast.

And now with maids and pages,
And honour'd and caress'd,
She lives Sir Morten's darling
In costly sable drest.