Pierre and all his company
Are ordered far away;
His sweetheart, left in Grenoble town,
Weeps the livelong day.

Pierre has sent a letter sweet,
All full of lover's fears;
And she has written one to him,
Made of grief and tears.

Pierre can scarcely read the page
It sets him weeping so;
But he has sought his captain out:
" Give me leave to go. "

" I give you leave all willingly,
But come again, " he said.
" Oh, if my true love is alive,
We surely will be wed;
But I shall come to you again,
If my true love be dead. "

Pierre has climbed the mountain path
Where the rocks steepest are;
He hears the bells of Grenoble town
Tolling from afar.

He stands and listens hat in hand;
He drops upon his knee,
Praying to God and Mary mild
His true love he may see.

Scarce has he entered Grenoble town
When his true love appears,
Beside her thirty gentle dames
And twenty cavaliers.

" O you who carry my true love,
I pray you give me place!
Uncover me the bier, " he cries;
" Let me see her face. "

Pierre has drawn his shining sword
And pierced the funeral pall;
He looks upon her snow-white face
To stagger back and fall;
He looks upon her snow-white face
And dies before them all.

All the good folk of Grenoble town,
What is this they say?
" These were true lovers and for love
Both lie dead to-day. "