The Lady of the Tree

The knight had hunted long, and twilight closed the day,
His hounds were weak and weary, his hawk had flown away;
He stopp'd beneath an oak, an old and mighty tree,
Then out the maiden spoke, and a comely maid was she.

The knight 'gan lift his eye, the shady boughs between;
She had her seat on high, among the oak-leaves green;
Her golden curls lay clustering above her breast of snow;
But when the breeze was westering, upon it they did flow.

"O, fear not, gentle knight; there is no cause for fear;
I am a good king's daughter, long years enchanted here;
Seven cruel fairies found me—they charm'd a sleeping child;
Seven years their charm hath bound me, a damsel undefiled.

"Seven weary years are gone since over me charms they threw;
I have dwelt here alone—I have seen none but you.
My seven sad years are spent;—for Christ that died on rood,
Thou noble Knight; consent, and lead me from the wood!

"O! bring me forth again from out this darksome place!
I dare not sleep for terror of the unholy race.
O, take me, gentle sir! I'll be a wife to thee—
I'll be thy lowly leman, if wife I may not be."—

"Till dawns the morning, wait, thou lovely lady, here;
I'll ask my mother straight, for her reproof I fear."—
"O, ill beseems thee, knight!" said she, that maid forlorn,
"The blood of kings to slight—a lady's tears to scorn."—

He came when morning broke, to fetch the maid away,
But could not find the oak wherein she made her stay;
All through the wilderness he sought in bower and tree—
Fair lordlings, will ye guess what weary heart had he.

There came a sound of voices from up the forest glen,
The King had come to find her with all his gentlemen;
They rode in mickle glee—a joyous cavaleade—
Fair in the midst rode she, but never word she said.

Though on the green he knelt, no look on him she cast—
His hand was on the hilt ere all the train were past.
"O shame to knightly blood! O scorn to chivalry!
I'll die within the wood! No eye my death shall see!"—