My sister, she will weep in vain, My brother ride and run, My mother, she will break her heart; And ere the rising sun My father will be looking out-- But find me they will none. I go to lay my woes to rest, None shall know where I'm gone. God must be friend and father both, Lord Gregory will be none.-- Lord Gregory started up from sleep And thought he heard a voice That screamed full dreadful in his ear, And once and twice and thrice. Lord Gregory to his mother called: O mother dear, said he, I've dreamt the Maid of Ocram Was floating on the sea. Lie still, my son, the mother said, Tis but a little space And half an hour has scarcely passed Since she did pass this place.-- O cruel, cruel mother, When she did pass so nigh How could you let me sleep so sound Or let her wander bye? Now if she's lost my heart must break-- I'll seek her till I die. He sought her east, he sought her west, He sought through park and plain; He sought her where she might have been But found her not again. I cannot curse thee, mother, Though thine's the blame, said he I cannot curse thee, mother, Though thou'st done worse to me. Yet do I curse thy pride that aye So tauntingly aspires; For my love was a gay knight's heir, And my father was a squire's. And I will sell my park and hall; And if ye wed again Ye shall not wed for titles twice That made ye once so vain. So if ye will wed, wed for love, As I was fain to do; Ye've gave to me a broken heart, And I'll give nought to you. Your pride has wronged your own heart's blood; For she was mine by grace, And now my lady love is gone None else shall take her place. I'll sell my park and sell my hall And sink my titles too. Your pride's done wrong enough as now To leave it more to do. She owneth none that owned them all And would have graced them well; None else shall take the right she missed Nor in my bosom dwell.-- And then he took and burnt his will Before his mother's face, And tore his patents all in two, While tears fell down apace-- But in his mother's haughty look Ye nought but frowns might trace. And then he sat him down to grieve, But could not sit for pain. And then he laid him on the bed And ne'er got up again. _The Gipsy's Camp_