When Rosamond, that lady bright, Did hear the king say so, The sorrow of her grieved heart Her outward looks did show, And from her clear and crystal eyes Tears gushed out apace, Which like the silver pearled dew Ran down her comely face. Her lips erst like the coral red, Did wax both wan and pale, And for the sorrow she conceived Her vital spirits did fail. And falling down all in a swoon, Before King Henry's face, Fell oft he in his princely arms Her body did embrace. And twenty times with watery eyes, He kissed her tender cheek, Until he had revived again Her senses mild and meek. "Why grieves my Rose, my sweetest Rose?" The king did often say. "Because," quoth she, "to bloody wars My lord must pass away. "But since your grace on foreign coasts, Among your foes unkind, Must go to hazard life and limb, Why should I stay behind? Nay, rather let me, like a page, Your sword and target bear, That on my breast the blows may light, That should offend you there. "Or let me in your royal tent Prepare your bed at night, And with sweet baths refresh your grace At your return from fight. So I your presence may enjoy, No toil I will refuse; But wanting you my life is death, Nay, death I'd rather choose." "Content thyself, my dearest love; Thy rest at home shall be, In England's sweet and pleasant soil; For travel suits not thee. Fair ladies brook not bloody wars; Sweet peace, their pleasures breed The nourisher of heart's content, Which Fancy first did feed. "My Rose shall rest in Woodstock's bower, With music's sweet delight, Whilst I among the piercing pikes Against my foes do fight. My Rose in robes of pearl and gold, With diamonds richly dight, Shall dance the galliards of my love, While I my foes do smite. "And you, Sir Thomas, whom I trust To be my love's defence, Be careful of my gallant Rose When I am parted hence." And therewithal he fetched a sigh, As though his heart would break, And Rosamond, for very grief, Not one plain word could speak. And at their parting well they might, In heart be grieved sore, After that day fair Rosamond The king did see no more. For when his grace had passed the seas, And into France was gone, Queen Eleanor with envious heart To Woodstock came anon. And forth she calls this trusty knight, Who kept this curious bower, Who with his clew of twined thread, Came from this famous flower; And when that they had wounded him, The queen this thread did get, And went where Lady Rosamond Was like an angel set. But when the queen, with steadfast eye, Beheld her heavenly face, She was amazed in her mind At her exceeding grace. "Cast off from thee these robes," she said, "That rich and costly be; And drink thou up this deadly draught, Which I have brought to thee."