Under the lindens on the heather,

There was our double resting-place,

Side by side and close together

Garnered blossoms, crushed, and grass

Nigh a shaw in such a vale:

Tandaradei,

Sweetly sang the nightingale.

I came a-walking through the grasses;

Lo! my dear was come before.

Ah! what befell then—listen, listen, lasses-

Makes me glad for evermore.

Kisses?—thousands in good sooth:

Tandaradei,

See how red they’ve left my mouth.

There had he made ready—featly, fairly—

All of flow’ring herbs a yielding bed,

And that place in secret still smiles rarely.

If by chance your foot that path should tread,

You might see the roses pressed,

Tandaradei,

Where e’enow my head did rest.

How he lay beside me, did a soul discover

(Now may God forfend such shame from me):

Not a soul shall know it save my lover;

Not a soul could see save I and he,

And a certain small brown bird:

Tandaradei,

Trust him not to breathe a word.