6 My Rose shall rest in Woodstock lower With music's sweet delight, While I among the piercing pikes Against the foes do fight. My Rose in robes of pearl and gold, With diamonds rich and bright, Shall dance the galliards of my love, While I my foes do smite. And yon, Sir Thomas, whom I trust, To be my love's defence Be careful of my gallant Rose, When I am parted hence. And here withal lie fetch'd a sigh, As though his heart would break; And Rosamond, for very grief, Not one plain word could speak. And at their parting, well they might In heart be grieved sore, After that day fair Rosamond The king did ne'er see more For when his grace had passed the seas, And into France was gone, Queen Eleanor with envious heart, To Woodstock came anon. And forth she calls the trusty knight Who kept this curious bower, And with a clue of twisted thread, Come from this famous flower.
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