" Dear love, dost thou sleep fairly?
Alas, there wakes us early
A pretty bird that flew but now
And perched aloft upon the linden-bough. "
" Full softly I was sleeping,
Child, till I heard thee weeping.
Sweet must have its sorrow still;
But all thou bid'st me, sweetheart, I'll fulfill. "
The lady fell a-moaning:
" Thou'lt ride and leave me lonely.
And when wilt thou come back to me?
Alas, thou takest all my joy with thee! "