...unto my roundelay, 0! drop the brfny tear with me 5 Dance no more on holyday, Like a running river be. My love is dead, Gone to his death-bed, All under the willow tree. If your ear be ftruckby the cadence, you will1 be ftruck not a little, in the remainder...

...unto my roundelay, O drop the briny tear wiih me J Dance no more on holiday ; Like a running river be. My love is dead, Gone to his death-bed, All under the willow tree I Black his hair as winter night ; White his (kin as dimmer fnow ; Red his face as morning...

...deathbed, All under the willow tree. With my hands I'll bind the briars Round his holy corse to gre,* Elfin fairy, light your fires, Here my body still shall...love is dead, Gone to his deathbed, All under the willow tree. Come, with acorn-cup and thorn, Drain my heart's blood all away , Life and all its good...

...All under the willow tree. With my hands I'll bind the briers, Round his holy corse to gre,* Elfin- fairy, light your fires, Here my body still shall...love is dead, Gone to his death-bed, All under the willow tree. Come, with acorn-cup and thorn, Drain my heart's blood all away ; Life and all its good...

...garen (a) flowers be laid ; Not one holy saint to save All the sorrows of a maid : My love is dead, &c. Come with acorn-cup and thorn, Drain my heartis blood away ; Life and all its goods I scorn, Dance by night or feast by day : My love is dead, &c. Water-witches crown'd with reeds,...

...me roundelay ; Oh ! drop the briny tear with me ; Dance no more at holy day j Like a running river be : My love is dead, Gone to his death-bed, All under the willow tree. Black his hair as the winter night ; White his rode [complexion] as the summer snow ;...

...White his neck as summer snow, Ruddy his face a« the morning light, Cold he lies in the grave below: Sweet his tongue, as throstle's not«, Quick in dance as thought was he : Deft his tabor, cudgel stout...

...Drain my [pure] heart's blood away ; Life and all its goods I scorn, Dance by night, or feast by day. My love is dead, Gone to his death-bed All under the willow-tree. 1 die, I come ; my true love waits. Thus the damsel spake, and died. This is a part of the minstrel's...

...me roundelay ; , Oh ! drop the briny tear with me ; Dance no more at holy day ; Like a running river be : My love is dead, Gone to his death-bed, All under the willow tree. Black his hair as the winter night ; White his rode [complexion] as the summer snow ;...

...under the willow tree. With my hands I'll bind the briers, Round his holy corse to gre j1 Elfin-fairy, own upon the waters ; all its hues, From the willow tree. Come with acorn cup and thorn, Drain my heart's blood all away ; Life and all its good...