‘Come, child,’ said her mistress as she entered, ’I would have thee sing to my lord the song that wandering harper taught thee.’

’Madam, I have learned of no wandering harper:  your ladyship means mistress Amanda’s Welsh song! shall I call her?’ said Dorothy, disappointed.

‘I mean thee, and thy song, thou green linnet!’ rejoined lady Margaret.  ’What song was it of which I said to thee that the singer deserved, for his very song’s sake, that whereof he made his moan?  Whence thou hadst it, from harper or bagpiper, I care not.’

‘Excuse me, madam, but why should I sing that you love not to hear?’

’It is not I would hear it, child, but I would have my lord hear it.  I would fain prove to him that there are songs in plain English, as he calls it, that have as little import, even to an English ear, as the plain truth-speaking Irish ditties which he will not understand.  I say “Will not,” because our bards tell us that Irish was the language of Adam and Eve while yet in Paradise, and therefore he could by instinct understand it an’ he would, even as the chickens understand their mother-tongue.’

’I will sing it at your desire, madam; but I fear the worse fault will lie in the singing.’

She seated herself at the harpsichord, and sang the following song with much feeling and simplicity.  The refrain of the song, if it may be so called, instead of closing each stanza, preluded it.

    O fair, O sweet, when I do look on thee,
    In whom all joys so well agree,
    Heart and soul do sing in me. 
      This you hear is not my tongue,
      Which once said what I conceived,
      For it was of use bereaved,
      With a cruel answer stung. 
        No, though tongue to roof be cleaved,
        Fearing lest he chastis’d be,
        Heart and soul do sing in me.

    O fair, O sweet, &c. 
      Just accord all music makes: 
      In thee just accord excelleth,
      Where each part in such peace dwelleth,
      One of other beauty takes. 
        Since then truth to all minds telleth
        That in thee lives harmony,
        Heart and soul do sing in me.

    O fair, O sweet, &c. 
      They that heaven have known, do say
      That whoso that grace obtaineth
      To see what fair sight there reigneth,
      Forced is to sing alway;
        So then, since that heaven remaineth
        In thy face, I plainly see,
        Heart and soul do sing in me.

    O fair, O sweet, &c. 
      Sweet, think not I am at ease,
      For because my chief part singeth;
      This song from death’s sorrow springeth,
      As to Swan in last disease;
        For no dumbness nor death bringeth
        Stay to true love’s melody: 
        Heart and soul do sing in me.

‘There!’ cried lady Margaret, with a merry laugh.  ’What says the English song to my English husband?’