“O, Dafydd, who the fool but thou, Talking this guise beneath the bough? Another husband chooses she, Whose charms deceitful captured thee. The Damsel of the neck of snow Is now another’s wife, I trow. To love another’s looks not well, The Bow Bach owns the blooming belle.”
“For what thou’st sung within the grove, With malice filled, about my love, May days of winter come with speed, The summer and the sun recede; Hoar frost upon the foliage fall, The wood and branches withering all. And thou with piercing cold be slain, Thou horrid bird of hateful strain!”
LONDON: Printed for THOMAS J. WISE, Hampstead, N.W.
{ 21} These stanzas should be compared with _The Elves_, printed in _The Nightingale_, _The Valkyrie and Raven_, _and Other Ballads_, 1913, pp. 25-26.