"A mercy's name, speak--speak and do not fail."
"Lady," sighed Joc'lyn, "thereby hangs a tale,
The which, though strange it sound, is verity,
That here and now I will relate to thee--
'T is ditty dire of dismal doating dames,
A lay of love-lorn, loveless languishment,
And ardent, amorous, anxious anguishment,
Full-fed forsooth of fierce and fiery flames;
So hark,
And mark:
In Brocelaunde not long ago,
Was born Duke Jocelyn. I trow
Not all the world a babe could show,
A babe so near divine:
For, truth to tell,
He waxed so well,
So fair o' face,
So gay o' grace,
That people all,
Both great and small,
Where'er he went,
In wonderment
Would stare and stare
To see how fair
A lad was Jocelyn.

And when to man's estate he came,
Alack, fair lady, 't was the same!
And many a lovely, love-lorn dame
Would pitiful pant and pine.