In Spain a lady liv'd of late, Who was of high degree; 10 Whose wayward temper did create Much woe and misery. Strange jealousies so filled her head With many a vain surmize, She thought her lord had wrong'd her bed, 15 And did her love despise. A gentlewoman passing fair Did on this lady wait; With bravest dames she might compare; Her beauty was compleat. 20 Her lady cast a jealous eye Upon this gentle maid, And taxt her with disloyaltye, And did her oft upbraid. In silence still this maiden meek 25 Her bitter taunts would bear, While oft adown her lovely cheek Would steal the falling tear. In vain in humble sort she strove Her fury to disarm; 30 As well the meekness of the dove The bloody hawke might charm. Her lord, of humour light and gay, And innocent the while, As oft as she came in his way, 35 Would on the damsell smile. And oft before his lady's face, As thinking her her friend, He would the maiden's modest grace And comeliness commend. 40 All which incens'd his lady so, She burnt with wrath extreame; At length the fire that long did glow, Burst forth into a flame. For on a day it so befell, 45 When he was gone from home, The lady all with rage did swell, And to the damsell come. And charging her with great offence And many a grievous fault, 50 She bade her servants drag her thence, Into a dismal vault, That lay beneath the common-shore,-- A dungeon dark and deep, Where they were wont, in days of yore, 55 Offenders great to keep. There never light of chearful day Dispers'd the hideous gloom; But dank and noisome vapours play Around the wretched room: 60 And adders, snakes, and toads therein, As afterwards was known, Long in this loathsome vault had bin, And were to monsters grown. Into this foul and fearful place, 65 The fair one innocent Was cast, before her lady's face; Her malice to content. This maid no sooner enter'd is, But strait, alas! she hears 70 The toads to croak, and snakes to hiss: Then grievously she fears. Soon from their holes the vipers creep, And fiercely her assail, Which makes the damsel sorely weep, 75 And her sad fate bewail.