Part 1 / Book 4 — 100. The Falcon

I Lully, lulley! lully, lulley! The faucon hath borne my make[609] 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[610]. 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[611], 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.