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LAINE's voice is again heard.

  The white moon lay on the ruin'd hay,
    White as a shroud on the city wall! —
  Though they cried him nay, yet he went his way;
For all their sighing he would not stay —
    Oh, for the moon on the city wall!

  Then tell him, pray, ye gallants gay
    Ah, tell him, ye ladies fair!
  There is one doth wait by the castle gate,
    At the foot of the castle stair,
  And she cries Alack! come back, come back!
    Ah! why doth he linger here?

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