Chapter 25

IN WHICH THE STREAM WINDS THROUGH A SULLEN MARSH AND BECOMES A BROOK

Alas for this unlucky womb! Alas the breasts that suckled thee! I would ha' laid thee in thy tomb Or e'er that witch had wived with thee!

Alas my son that grew so strong! Alas those hands I stretched to th' bow! Or e'er thou heardst that wanton's song, I'd shot thee long ago and long, Through the black heart that's shamed me so!

_Sir Hugh and the Mermaiden._