6
Then fell the Lord upon his knees,
And did the Moor intreat,
To save the life of his poor child,
Whose fear was then so great.
But the sad wretch the little child.
By both the heels did take,
And dash'd his head against the wall,
While parants heart did quake:
But being dead, he quickly ran,
The other child to fetch,
And pluck't it from the mother's breast,
Like a most cruel wretch.
Within one hand a kife he brought,
The child into the other,
And holding it over the wall
Said thus shall die the Mother;
With that he cut the throat of it,
Then on the Father calls,
To see how he the head had cut,
And down the brains did fall.
This done, he threw it o'er the wall
Into the moat so deep,
Which made his father wring his hands,
And grievously to weep.
Then to the Lady this rogue went,
Who was near dead with fear,
Yet the wild wretch most cruelly,
Did drag her by the hair,
And drew her to the very wall,
Which there his Lord did see;
