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I met a lady in the meads |
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Full beautiful, a faery's child |
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Her hair was long, her foot was light |
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And her eyes were wild |
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I made a garland for her head |
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And bracelets too, and fragrant zone |
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She look'd at me as she did love |
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And made sweet moan |
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I saw pale kings, and princes too |
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Pale warriors, death-pale were they all |
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Who cry'd - "La belle Dame sans merci |
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Hath thee in thrall" |
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She found me roots of relish sweet |
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And honey wild, and manna dew |
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And sure in language strange she said |
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"I love thee true" |
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I saw pale kings, and princes too |
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Pale warriors, death-pale were they all |
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Who cry'd - "La belle Dame sans merci |
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Hath thee in thrall" |
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And there she lulled me asleep |
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And there I dreamed - Ah! woe betide! - |
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The latest dream I ever dreamed |
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On the cold hill side |
