She did not speak, but looked and sighed as if she loved him. He gave her his horse to ride, and he walk along side. He saw nothing but her, he was mesmerised when she leaned over in his face and sang a mysterious song. She spoke a language he could not understand, but he thought said she loved him.
He kissed her and fell asleep and dreams of kings, princes, and warriors, all as death. They shouted a warning to the knight.
On waking the woman was gone.
And there I dreamed—Ah! woe betide!--
The latest dream I ever dreamt
On the cold hill side.
I saw pale kings and princes too,
Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;
They cried—‘La Belle Dame sans Merci
Hath thee in thrall!’