“O little child, alas! what is thy guilt, That never wroughtest sin as yet, pardie? Why will thine hardë father have thee spilt? O mercy, dearë Constable,” quoth she, “And let my little child here dwell with thee: And if thou dar’st not save him from blame, So kiss him onës in his father’s name.”
Therewith she looked backward to the land, And saidë, “Farewell, husband ruthëless!” And up she rose, and walked down the strand Toward the ship, her following all the press: And ever she pray’d her child to hold his peace, And took her leave, and with an holy intent She blessed her, and to the ship she went.
Victualed was the ship, it is no drede, Abundantly for her a full long space: And other necessaries that should need She had enough, heried be Goddë’s grace: For wind and weather, Almighty God purchase, And bring her home; I can no better say; But in the sea she drived forth her way.
Allá the king came home soon after this Unto the castle, of the which I told, And asked where his wife and his child is; The Constable gan about his heart feel cold, And plainly all the matter he him told As ye have heard; I can tell it no better; And shew’d the king his seal, and eke his letter
And saidë; “Lord, as ye commanded me On pain of death, so have I done certáin.” The messenger tormented was, till he Mustë beknow, and tell it flat and plain, From night to night in what place he had lain; And thus, by wit and subtle inquiring, Imagin’d was by whom this harm gan spring.
The hand was known that had the letter wrote, And all the venom of the cursed deed; But in what wise, certáinly I know nót. Th’ effect is this, that Alla, out of drede, His mother slew, that may men plainly read, For that she traitor was to her liegeánce: Thus ended oldë Donegild with mischance.