The lady would see the roebuck run Up hills and dales and the forest free, When she was ’ware of a shepherd’s boy Was tending sheep on a lonely lee. XXXIII And ever he sigh’d and made his moan [Unto himself] most pitifullye, ‘My father is the Lord of Lorn, And knows not what’s become of me!’ XXXIV O then bespake the lady gay And to her maid she spake anon, ‘Go fetch me hither yon shepherd’s boy: I’ll know why he doth make his moan.’ XXXV But when he came to that lady fair He fell down low upon his knee; He was [of birth and] so brought up He needed not to learn courtesye. XXXVI ‘What is thy name? Where wast thou born? For whose sake makest thou this moan?’-- ‘I am Poor Disaware, in Scotland born, And I mourn one dead these years agone.’-- XXXVII ‘Tell me [of Scotland], thou bonny child, Tell me the truth and do not lee: Knowest thou there the young Lord of Lorn? He is come into France a-wooing of me.’-- XXXVIII ‘Yes, that I do, madam,’ he said, ‘I know that lord, yea, verilye; The Lord of Lorn is a worthy lord, If he were at home in his own countrye.’-- XXXIX ‘Wilt leave thy sheep, thou bonny child, And come in service unto me?’-- ‘[I thank you, madam]; yea, forsooth, And at your bidding I will be.’ XL When the steward look’d upon the child He ’gan bewrail[473] him villainouslye: ‘Where wast thou born, thou vagabone? Thou art a thief, I will prove thee.’ XLI ‘Ha’ done! ha’ done!’ said the lady gay, ‘Peace, Lord of Lorn, I do pray thee! Without you bear him more good will, No favour will you get of me.’ XLII O then bespake the false steward, ‘Believe me or no, I tell to thee, At Aberdonie, beyond the seas, His father robbèd thousands three.’ XLIII But then bespake the Duke of France (The child was pleasant to his e’e), Says, ‘Boy, if thou love horses well, My groom of stables thou shalt be.’ XLIV The child applied his office so well Till that twelve months drew to an end; He was so courteous and so true That every man became his friend. XLV He led a gelding forth one morning, To water him at the water so free-- The gelding up, and with his head He hit the child above the e’e. XLVI ‘Woe worth thee, gelding!’ said the child, ‘Woe worth the mare that foalèd thee! Thou little knowest the Lord of Lorn: Thou’st stricken a lord of high degree.’ XLVII The lady was in her garden green, And heard the child that made this moan: All weeping [straight] she ran to him And left her maidens all alone. XLVIII