But he could neither run so fast,

Nor away so fast could ride,

But Little John with an arrow so broad, He shot him into the back-side.

ON yonder hill a castle stands,

With walls and towers bedight,+

And yonder lives the Childe of Elle,
A young and comely knight.

The Childe of Elle to his garden went,
And stood at his garden-pale,

When, lo he beheld fair Emmeline's page
Come tripping down the dale.

The Childe of Elle he hied him thence,

I wist he stood not still,

And soon he met fair Emmeline's page

Come climbing up the hill.

Now Christe thee save, thou little foot-page,

Now Christe thee save and see!

Oh tell me how does thy lady gay,
And what may thy tidings be?

My lady she is all woe-begone,

And the tears they fall from her eyne ;* And aye she laments the deadly feud Between her house and thine.

And here she sends thee a silken scarf

Bedewed with many a tear,

And bids thee sometimes think on her,

Who loved thee so dear.

And here she sends thee a ring of gold,
The last boon thou may'st have,
And bids thee wear it for her sake,
When she is laid in grave.

For, ah her gentle heart is broke,

And in grave soon must she be,

For her father hath chose her a new new love,

And forbid her to think of thee.

* Eyes.

Her father hath brought her a carlish* knight,

Sir John of the north countrey,

And within three days she must him wed,

Or he vows he will her slay.

Now hie thee back, thou little foot-page,

And greet thy lady from me,

And tell her that I, her own true love,

Will die, or set her free.

Now hie thee back, thou little foot-page,

And let thy fair lady know,

This night will I be at her bower-window,

Betide me weal or woe.

The boy he tripped, the boy he ran,
He neither stint† nor stay'd

Until he came to fair Emmeline's bower,
When, kneeling down, he said,

O lady, I've been with thine own true love, And he greets thee well by me;

This night will he be at thy bower-window,

And die or set thee free.

Now day was gone, and night was come,

And all were fast asleep,

All save the lady Emmeline,

Who sate in her bower to weep:

And soon she heard her true loves voice
Low whispering at the wall;
Awake, awake, my dear lady,
'Tis I, thy true love, call.

Awake, awake, my lady dear,

Come, mount this fair palfrey :

This ladder of ropes will let thee down, I'll carry thee hence away.

Now nay, now nay, thou gentle knight, Now nay, this may not be ;

For aye should I tint* my maiden fame, If alone I should wend† with thee.

O lady, thou with a knight so true
May'st safely wend alone;

To my lady mother I will thee bring,

Where marriage shall make us one.