“O little child, alas! what is thy guilt, That never wroughtest sin as yet, pardie? 1670 Why will thine hardë 1671 father have thee spilt? 1672 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!” 1673 And up she rose, and walked down the strand Toward the ship, her following all the press: 1674 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.