And on the swell of her long fair throat Close clung the necklet-chain As he bent her pearl-tir'd head aside, And in the warmth of his love and pride He kissed her lips full fain. And her true face was a rosy red, The very red of the rose That, couched on the happy garden-bed, In the summer sunlight glows. And all the wondrous things of love That sang so sweet through the song Were in the look that met in their eyes, And the look was deep and long. 'T was then a knock came at the outer gate, And the usher sought the King. "The woman you met by the Scotish Sea, My Liege, would tell you a thing; And she says that her present need for speech Will bear no gainsaying." And the King said: "The hour is late; To-morrow will serve, I ween." Then he charged the usher strictly, and said: "No word of this to the Queen." But the usher came again to the King. "Shall I call her back?" quoth he: "For as she went on her way, she cried, 'Woe! Woe! then the thing must be!'" And the King paused, but he did not speak. Then he called for the Voidee-cup: And as we heard the twelfth hour strike, There by true lips and false lips alike Was the draught of trust drained up. So with reverence meet to King and Queen To bed went all from the board; And the last to leave the courtly train Was Robert Stuart the chamberlain Who had sold his sovereign lord. And all the locks of the chamber-door Had the traitor riven and brast; And that Fate might win sure way from afar, He had drawn out every bolt and bar That made the entrance fast. And now at midnight he stole his way To the moat of the outer wall, And laid strong hurdles closely across Where the traitors' tread should fall. But we that were the Queen's bower-maids Alone were left behind; And with heed we drew the curtains close Against the winter wind. And now that all was still through the hall, More clearly we heard the rain That clamoured ever against the glass And the boughs that beat on the pane But the fire was bright in the ingle-nook, And through empty space around The shadows cast on the arras'd wall 'Mid the pictured kings stood sudden and tall Like spectres sprung from the ground. And the bed was dight in a deep alcove; And as he stood by the fire The King was still in talk with the Queen While he doffed his goodly attire. And the song had brought the image back Of many a bygone year; And many a loving word they said With hand in hand and head laid to head; And none of us went anear.