The Oxford Book of Ballads - online book

A Selection Of The Best English Lyric Ballads Chosen & Edited by Arthur Quiller-Couch

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Another while it was blacke,
And bore the worst hue : ' By my troth.' quoth King Arthur,
' I thinke thou be not true.'
Shee threw downe the mantle,
That bright was of blee ; Fast with a rudd red
To her chamber can she flee.
She cursed the weaver and the walker That cloth that had wrought,
And bade a vengeance on his crowne That hither hath itt brought.
xv ' I had rather be in a wood,
Under a greene tree, Than in King Arthur's court
Shamed for to bee.'
xvi Kay call'd forth his ladye
And bade her come neere ; Saies, ' Madam, and thou be guiltye
I pray thee hold thee here.'
xvii Forth came his ladye
Shortlye and anon ; Boldlye to the mantle
Then is she gone.
blee] hue.        can] did.        walker] fuller.
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