THE SISTERS.
133
iii.
I won his love, I brought him home.
The wind is roaring in turret and tree.
And after supper on a bed,
Upon my lap he laid his head:
O the Earl was fair to see!
iv.
His ruddy cheeks upon my breast.
The wind is raging in turret and tree.
I hated him with the hate of hell,
But I loved his beauty passing well.
O the Earl was fair to see!
v.
I made my dagger sharp and bright.
The wind is raving in turret and tree.
As half-asleep his breath he drew,
Three times I stabb'd him thro' and thro'.
O the Earl was fair to see!