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My heart is wasted with my woe, Oriana.
There is no rest for me below, Oriana.
When long dun wolds are ribb’d with snow,
And loud the Norland whirlwinds blow,
Alone I wander to and fro, Oriana.

In the yew-wood black as night, Oriana.
Ere I rode into the fight, Oriana.
While blissful tears blinded my sight
By star-shine and by moonlight
I to thee my troth did plight, Oriana.

She stood upon the castle wall, Oriana.
She watch’d my crest among them all, Oriana.
She saw me fight, she heard me call,
When forth there stept a foeman tall,
Atween me and the castle wall, Oriana.

The bitter arrow went aside, Oriana.
The false, false arrow went aside, Oriana.
The damned arrow glanced aside,
And pierced thy heart my love my bride,
Thy heart, my life, my love, my bride, Oriana.

They should have stabb’d me where I lay, Oriana!
How could I rise and come away, Oriana?
How could I look upon the day?
They should have stabb’d me where I lay,
They should have trod me into clay, Oriana.

O breaking heart that will not break, Oriana!
O pale, pale face so sweet and meek, Oriana!
Thou smilest, but thou dost not speak,
And then the tears run down my cheek,
What wantest thou? Whom dost thou seek, Oriana?

I cry aloud: none hear my cries, Oriana.
Thou comest atween me and the skies, Oriana.
I feel the tears of blood arise
Up from my heart unto my eyes
Within thy heart my arrow lies, Oriana.

When Norland winds pipe down the sea, Oriana,
I walk, I dare not think of thee, Oriana.
Thou liest beneath the greenwood true,
I dare not die and come to thee,
I hear the roaring of the sea, Oriana.

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