"Her robe is stiff with drizly snow, And rent her mantle grey; None ever bade the wretched go Upon his wedding-day." Then to his lord he hied him straight, Where round on silken seat Sat many a courteous dame and knight. And made obeisance meet, "There is a stranger in your hall, Who wears no common mien; Hard were the heart, as flinty wall, That would not take her in. "A fairer dame in hall or bower Mine eyes did ne'er behold; Tho' shelter'd in no father's tower, And turn'd out to the cold. "Her face is like an early morn, Dimm'd with the nightly dew; Her skin is like the sheeted torn, Her eyes are wat'ry blue. "And tall and slender is her form, Like willow o'er the brook; But on her brow there broods a storm, And restless is her look, "And well her troubled motions shew The tempest in her mind; Like the unshelter'd sapling bough Vex'd with the wintry wind. "Her head droops on her ungirt breast, And scatter'd is her hair; Yet lady brac'd in courtly vest Was never half so fair." Reverse, and cold the turning blood The bridegroom's cheek forsook: He shook and stagger'd as he stood, And falter'd as he spoke. "So soft and fair I know a maid, There is but only she; A wretched man her love betrayed, And wretched let him be." Deep frowning, turn'd the bride's dark eye, For bridal morn unmeet; With trembling steps her lord did hie The stranger fair to greet. Tho' loose in scatter'd weeds array'd, And ruffled with the storm; Like lambkin from its fellows stray'd, He knew her graceful form. But when he spy'd her sunken eye, And features sharp and wan, He heav'd a deep and heavy sigh, And down the big tears ran. "Why droops thy head, thou lovely maid, Upon thy hand of snow? Is it because thy love betray'd, That thou art brought so low?" Quick from her eye the keen glance came Who question'd her to see: And oft she mutter'd o'er his name, And wist not it was he. Full hard against his writhing brows His clenched hands he prest; Full high his lab'ring bosom rose, And rent its silken vest. "O cursed be the golden price, That did my baseness prove! And cursed be my friends advice, That wil'd me from thy love! "And cursed be the woman's art, That lur'd me to her snare! And cursed be the faithless heart That left thee to despair! "Yet now I'll hold thee to my side, Tho' worthless I have been, Nor friends, nor wealth, nor dizen'd bride, Shall ever stand between. "When thou art weary and depress'd, I'll lull thee to thy sleep; And when dark fancies vex thy breast, I'll sit by thee and weep. "I'll tend thee like a restless child Where'er thy rovings be; Nor gesture keen, nor eye-ball wild, Shall turn my love from thee. "Night shall not hang cold o'er thy head, And I securely lie; Nor drizly clouds upon thee shed, And I in covert dry.