tain
With grief my heart will break."

"Now list thou fair and gallant swain,
To me incline thine ear!
Thou ne'er wilt yonder bird obtain
Unless some bait thou bear."

From off my breast the bait I cut,
And hung it on the bough:
The breast it bled, the bait it reeked,
Mine is the birdie now.

Down flew the lovely little bird,
Fluttering its wings o'erjoyed;
It seemed to smile as if the guile
It knew that I employed.

It clawed and picked so hastily,
So well did smack the bait;
And still the more it seemed to please
The more the birdie ate.

Down flew the lovely little bird,
Alighting on the sand;
The loveliest damsel she became,
And gave the youth her hand.

THE FORCED CONSENT

Within her own fair castelaye
There goes a damsel bright;
A whole year's tide for her has sighed
A young and handsome knight.

"Now do thou hear, thou beauteous maid,
Could I thy troth obtain,
Then thou shouldst tread on silk outspread,
And ne'er on the earth again.

And do thou hear, my lovely maid,
My wedded lady be,
And the slightest care thou shalt not bear
If I can save it thee."

"I've vowed an oath to Mary maid,
And to keep it is my plan;
Ne'er live will I beneath the sky
With any sinful man.

"Here with my seven brothers bold
To-morrow I will come;
Yourself array in costly way,
For you must follow us home."

It was the young and handsome knight,
He out of the doorway springs;
And he in haste the Runes has traced,
And them on her lap she flings.

And so he cast the magic Rune
The maiden's dress below;
Then beat her heart, and blood did start
From her finger nails I trow.

"If thou with thy seven brothers bold
To-morrow here wilt come,
Myself I'll array in costly way
And follow ye to your home."

The very next morn, the very next morn,
When rose the sun in gold,
Full three times ten bold knightly men
Were waiting on the wold.

Full three times ten bold knightly men,
On a bonny grey steed each one;
With silk so white was the courser dight
Which the maid should ride upon.

But what think ye that maiden did
Ere mounting on her horse?
A draught she drank of poison rank,
Thought death her wisest course.

Through the shallow streams they dashed their steeds,
Through the deep their steeds they swam;
And ever and anon the maid would groan,
"How dreadfully ill I am."

And when they came