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Abba no angry word replied,
“ Let not the Lady Argentine
Be wroth at ministry of mine !"
“ My father will not frown, I ween,
The wine hath warm'd Count Aymerique,
That mood his crafty daughter knew ; She came and kiss'd her father's cheek, And stroked his beard with gentle hand, And winning eye and action bland,
As she in childhood used to do. “ A boon! Count Aymerique,” quoth she ;
“ If I have found favour in thy sight, Let me sleep at my father's feet to-night. Grant this,” quoth she, “ so I shall see
That you will let your Abba be
Her voice was soft and sweet ;
She lay at her father's feet.
In Aymerique's arms the leman lay, -
In the silent hour of night ;
Far, far away his castle lay,
The weary road of many a day; “ And travel long," they said, “ to him,
It seem’d, was small delight,
They little thought that Garci then
Heard every scornful word !
Was on the avenging sword !
Fearless, unpenitent, unblest,
Then Abba, listening still in fear,
One blow sufficed for Aymerique,..
And by the chamber-lamp she saw
In an evil day and an hour of woe
Did Garci Ferrandez wed !
The story of the following Ballad is found in the Nobiliario of the Conde D. Pedro ; and also in the Livro Velho das Linhagens, a work of the 13th century.
GREEN grew the alder-trees, and close
The water and the alder-trees ;
No danger near doth Gaya fear,
Under the alders silently.