d that bedecks her skirt, by the light
that glimmers in her hair.'

Then Lord William sat down and wrote a letter to his love, and
fastened it firm under the pinion of his gay goshawk. Away flew
the bird, swift did it fly to do its master's will. O'er hill and
dale it winged its flight until at length it saw the birch-tree
that grew near the lady's bower.

There, on the birch-tree, did the goshawk perch, and there did he
sing his song as the lady with her four-and-twenty maidens passed
beneath its branches towards the church.

The sharp eyes of the goshawk glanced at each beautiful maiden,
and quick was he to see Lord William's love, for sweet was she as
the flowers that spring in May. Gold was embroidered on her
skirt, sunlight glistened in her beautiful yellow hair.

When another day dawned the gay goshawk left the birch-tree and
alighted on the gate, a little nearer to the lattice window where
sat the beautiful lady to whom he had been sent. Here again he
sang his song. Loud and clear he sang it first, loud and clear
that all might hear. Soft and sweet he sang it after, soft and
sweet that only Lord William's lady might catch the note of love.
And ever, loud or soft, the last words of his song were these,
'Your true love cannot come to you here.'

Then said the lady to her four-and-twenty maidens, 'Eat, my merry
maidens, eat and drink, for the feast is spread. I go but to my
lattice window to listen to the birds, for hark! they are singing
their evensong.'

But in her heart the lady knew there was only one song she
longed to hear. Wide she opened her lattice window and, leaning
out, she hearkened to the song of the gay goshawk.

'Sing on, ye bonny bird,' she cried, 'sing on, for I know no song
could be so sweet that came not from my own true love.'

A little nearer flew the gay goshawk, and first his song was
merry as a summer morn, and then it was sad as an autumn eve.

As she listened, tears dropped from the eyes of the beautiful
lady. She put out her hand and stroked the pinions of the gay
goshawk, and lo! there dropped from beneath his wing Lord
William's letter.

'Five letters has my master sent to you,' said the bird, 'and
long has he looked for one from you, yet never has it come, and
he is weary with long waiting.'

Then the lady sighed, for no letter had she ever had from her
true love. 'My stepmother has hidden the letters, for never one
have I seen,' she cried.

[Illustration: 'I go but t