Verse > Anthologies > The World’s Best Poetry > Vol. VII. Descriptive: Narrative
  PREVIOUSNEXT  
CONTENTS · BOOK CONTENTS · BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD
Bliss Carman, et al., eds.  The World’s Best Poetry.
Volume VII. Descriptive: Narrative.  1904.
 
Narrative Poems: VIII. England
Lord Lovel
Anonymous
 
LORD LOVEL he stood at his castle gate,
  Combing his milk-white steed;
When up came Lady Nancy Belle,
  To wish her lover good speed, speed,
  To wish her lover good speed.        5
 
“Where are you going, Lord Lovel?” she said,
  “Oh! where are you going?” said she;
“I ’m going, my Lady Nancy Belle,
  Strange countries for to see, to see,
  Strange countries for to see.”        10
 
“When will you be back, Lord Lovel?” said she:
  “O! when will you come back?” said she;
“In a year or two—or three, at the most,
  I ’ll return to my fair Nancy-cy,
  I ’ll return to my fair Nancy.”        15
 
But he had not been gone a year and a day,
  Strange countries for to see,
When languishing thoughts came into his head,
  Lady Nancy Belle he would go see, see,
  Lady Nancy Belle he would go see.        20
 
So he rode, and he rode, on his milk-white steed,
  Till he came to London town,
And there he heard St. Pancras’ bells,
  And the people all mourning, round, round,
  And the people all mourning round.        25
 
“Oh, what is the matter,” Lord Lovel he said,
  “Oh! what is the matter?” said he;
“A lord’s lady is dead,” a woman replied,
  “And some call her Lady Nancy-cy,
  And some call her Lady Nancy.”        30
 
So he ordered the grave to be opened wide,
  And the shroud he turnèd down,
And there he kissed her clay-cold lips,
  Till the tears came trickling down, down,
  Till the tears came trickling down.        35
 
Lady Nancy she died as it might be to-day,
  Lord Lovel he died as to-morrow;
Lady Nancy she died out of pure, pure grief,
  Lord Lovel he died out of sorrow, sorrow,
  Lord Lovel he died out of sorrow.        40
 
Lady Nancy was laid in St. Pancras’ church,
  Lord Lovel was laid in the choir;
And out of her bosom there grew a red rose,
  And out of her lover’s a brier, brier,
  And out of her lover’s a brier.        45
 
They grew, and they grew, to the church steeple top,
  And then they could grow no higher:
So there they entwined in a true lover’s knot,
  For all lovers true to admire-mire,
  For all lovers true to admire.        50
 
 
CONTENTS · BOOK CONTENTS · BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD
  PREVIOUSNEXT  
 
Loading
Click here to shop the Bartleby Bookstore.

Shakespeare · Bible · Strunk · Anatomy · Nonfiction · Quotations · Reference · Fiction · Poetry
© 1993–2014 Bartleby.com · [Top 150] · Subjects · Titles · Authors