It's up in yon chamber tapestried,
Sits the Lady Katharine;
She smiled at a woman's art applied
Her own true love to win.
And lo! who comes in a tearful way,
But her pretty tire-woman,
"Hey! hey! what now? good lack-a-day!
Such cheeks so pale, and lips like clay;
What ails maid Lilian?"

"Oh it is, it is, young mistress mine,
All about this valiant knight,
Who came to me all drunk with wine,
At the dead hour of the night.
He seized me struggling to get free,
And swore by the goat of Jove,
He would me fee, if I would be,
La! my lady! I fear to tell it to thee,
_His left-hand lady-love_."

"Ho! ho! my maid, a pretty scene!
A brute of noble parts!
But 'tis easier to turn a bull by each horn,
Than rule two women's hearts.
No harems have we in western land,
Where a woman's soul is free,
To rule weak man by her high command,
And rouse by a wave of her wizard wand
The fire of his chivalrie."