The lamp of love

Was changed for one of hate, which threw

Its false and fatal skein of light above.

 For many nights before, two lonely men Stood ready, boat at hand. God speed them now! As swift they row and quick return to land, Bearing a lifeless form with sword-cleft brow, Whose arms fast clutch a maid. They bore them to their den. 

For many nights before, two lonely men

Stood ready, boat at hand.

God speed them now!

As swift they row and quick return to land,

Bearing a lifeless form with sword-cleft brow,

 

 

 Grief at Wynnwood Hall. 

 The news soon spread from coast to country round That lost was every soul. At Wynnwood Hall, Sir Harold's home, their grief knew no control. That he should be the first Wynn not to fall In battle's heated fray; but should be basely drowned! 

The news soon spread from coast to country round

That lost was every soul.

At Wynnwood Hall,

Sir Harold's home, their grief knew no control.

That he should be the first Wynn not to fall

 His helmet, cloak, and sword he'd cast aside, To save the girl who clung Around his neck. These relics dear were found and silent hung Beneath the rest. None sought grief's tears to check To see the blood-stained cross for which he'd fought and died. 

His helmet, cloak, and sword he'd cast aside,

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