Come, Magdalen, and bind my hair,

And put me on my sad array;

I to my father's house repair,

And hear his final doom to-day.

But wrap me in that cypress veil;

At first his eye I would not brave,

'Till he shall bid the mourner hail,

And knows I come from Edwin's grave.

I, late his boast, his heir, his pride,

Must like a guilty vassal kneel;

I, who was gallant Edwin's bride,

Must to my widow'd state appeal!

Closely within my heart must keep

His praise for whom that heart is riv'n,

And let each fond resentment sleep,

For I must die or be forgiven.