"Come ride with us," the voices said,
"and hunt the fallow deer."
They whispered through the windowsill
in Gloriana's ear.

"Come leave your guards, and leave your lords,
and leave your ladies fair,
and ride the paths that no men know
and drink the midnight air."

And she has come to Waltham Woods
upon her gelding white,
and she has joined the Faerie Hunt
that courses all the night.

And she has glimpsed the snowy stag
betwixt the beech and oak,
and chased him down the twisted paths
where dwell the fairy folk.

But when the sun peeped o'er the trees,
the Seelie Hunt was gone,
and then the Queen was left to face
the chilly light of dawn.

She shivered deep in Waltham Woods,
for this she felt was true:
the forest where the fairies dwelt
was not the one she knew.

She led her horse between the brush
that tore her gown of gold,
when tired, footsore, halted she,
there spoke a creature bold.

A cunning fox, a sable fox
his mask was prick'd in black
"And are you lost, my Virgin Queen?
Fear not; I'll take you back."

He led her down the musty paths
down fox and badger trail,
when safely home she was, he left,
a flicking of his tail.

A deathly languor gripped the Queen
her ladies were distressed --
no color in her cheeks was seen
when in the morn she dressed.

She took no joy in dance nor hunt,
as if she'd been bespelled.
As if she'd been a dryad wild
whose parent oak was felled.

All listless sat she with her Court,
still under spell or thrall,
when boldly came a gentleman,
who entered in her hall.

His form was lean, his hair was red,
at waist, a prince's blade,
upon his face he wore a mask
most marvelously made:

a cunning fox, a sable fox
with features prick'd in black,
he nodded to the Court and said:
"My Lady, I've come back,

And if it please the Virgin Queen
I'll beg from her a dance,
and then I think, if you permit,
I'll free you from your trance."

"What insolence," the courtiers said.
"The Queen will have his head."
"Touch not the fox -- he'll have his dance,"
King Harry's daughter said.

He bowed, she curtseyed -- hands they joined,
to tread a measure proud.
The fiddlers struck, the basses lowed,
the flutes and lutes played loud.

And when their dance was done at last
he kissed the Queen's cold cheek,
and color came into her face;
her limbs no longer weak.

"Have mercy on my people, Bess,
they did not mean you harm.
They only sought to save the trees
by laying on a charm.

For if you dwelt in Waltham Woods
and to the trees were bound,
your yeomen might not chop them down,
and plow up all the ground."

"I'll spare the woods, good Fox," she said
"at least, as well I can,
and take no vengeance on your folk,
nor harm the fairy clan."

He smiled, saluted all the Court,
and then went out the door,
and though she rode through Waltham Wood,
she never saw him more.

So if, perchance, in Epping Wood*
you pass upon the track,
a cunning fox, a sable fox,
whose mask is prick'd in black,

'Twould be polite to make a bow
or drop a curtsey keen,
for he may be the King of Fox
and Gentle Bess his Queen.

*The area occupied by Waltham Wood in Queen Elizabeth's time is now Epping Wood.