she said,
'For the love of God, these months three.

79.
'Sick I am,' the lady said,
'O sick, and very like to die!
Put off my wedding, father duke,
For the love of God, these months three.'

80.
The duke of France put off this wedding
Of the steward and the lady, months three;
For the lady sick she was,
Sick, sick, and like to die.

81.
She wrote a letter with her own hand,
In all the speed that ever might be;
She sent over into Scotland
That is so far beyond the sea.

82.
When the messenger came before the old lord of Learne,
He kneeled low down on his knee,
And he delivered the letter unto him
In all the speed that ever might be.

83.
First look he looked the letter upon,
Lo! he wept full bitterly;
The second look he looked it upon,
Said, 'False steward! woe be to thee!'

84.
When the lady of Learne these tidings heard,
O Lord! she wept so bitterly:
'I told you of this, now good my lord,
When I sent my child into that wild country.'

85.
'Peace, lady of Learne,' the lord did say,
'For Christ his love I do pray thee;
And as I am a Christian man,
Wroken upon him that I will be.'

86.
He wrote a letter with his own hand
In all the speed that e'er might be;
He sent it into the lords in Scotland
That were born of a great degree.

87.
He sent for lords, he sent for knights,
The best that were in the country,
To go with him into the land of France,
To seek his son in that strange country.

88.
The wind was good, and they did sail,
Five hundred men into France land,
There to seek that bonny boy
That was the worthy lord of Learne.

89.
They sought the country through and through,
So far to the duke's place of France land:
There they were ware of that bonny boy
Standing with a porter's staff in his hand.

90.
Then the worshipful they did bow,
The serving-men fell on their knee,
They cast their hats up into the air
For joy that boy that they did see.

91.
The lord of Learne, then he light down,
And kissed his child both cheek and chin,
And said, 'God bless thee, my son and my heir,
The bliss of heaven that thou may win!'

92.
The false steward and the duke of France
Were in a castle top truly:
'What fools are yond,' says the false steward,
'To the porter makes so low courtesy?'