100. The Falcon

I

Lully, lulley! lully, lulley!
The faucon hath borne my make away!

II

He bare him up, he bare him down,
He bare him into an orchard brown.

III

In that orchard there was an halle,
That was hangèd with purple and pall.

IV

And in that hall there was a bed,
It was hangèd with gold sa red.

V

And in that bed there li’th a knight,
His woundès bleeding day and night.

VI

At that bed’s foot there li’th a hound,
Licking the blood as it runs down.

VII

By that bed-side kneeleth a may,
And she weepeth both night and day.

VIII

And at that bed’s head standeth a stone,
Corpus Christi written thereon.

IX

Lully, lulley! lully, lulley!
The faucon hath borne my make away.