Ballad
O what can thee, knight-at-arms, Alone and palely ? The has withered from the lake, And no birds sing. O what can thee, knight-at-arms, So and so ? The squirrel's is full, And the harvest's done. I see a lily on thy brow, With moist and fever-dew, And on thy cheeks a fading rose Fast too.
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Plain English
What's wrong with you, knight, standing here alone and pale? The reeds by the lake have withered and no birds sing. What's wrong with you, knight, so worn and miserable? The squirrel's store is full and the harvest is over. I see a lily on your forehead, wet with fever, and a fading rose on your cheeks that is withering too.