III

Queen once of Scots and ever of ours Whose sires brought forth for you Their lives to strew your way like flowers. Adieu.

Dead is full many a dead man's name Who died for you this long Time past: shall this too fare the same, My song?

But surely, though it die or live, Your face was worth All that a man may think to give On earth.

No darkness cast of years between Can darken you: Man's love will never bid my queen Adieu.