  Gaily the Troubadour touched his guitar, As he was hastening home from the war, Singing, "From Palestine hither I come,— Ladye-love, ladye-love, welcome me home!" She for her Troubadour hopelessly wept, Sadly she thought on him whilst others slept, Sighing, "In search of thee, would I might roam, Troubadour, Troubadour, come to thy home!" Hark! 'twas the Troubadour breathing her name, As under the battlement softly he came, Singing, "From Palestine hither I come, Ladye-love, ladye-love, welcome me home!" Old Song. |
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