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“Ah! well I wot, he never would rest,
Nor his meate should do him no goode, Until he had slain thee, Child of Elle,
And seen thy deare heart's bloode.”
And a little space him fro,
Nor the worst that he could doe.
And once without this walle,
Nor the worst that might befalle.
her heart was woe :
And downe the ladder he drewe :
And kist her tenderlie:
Ranne like the fountayne free.
And her on her fair palfraye,
And roundlye they rode awaye.
In her bed whereas shee ley;
So I shall have golde and fee.
Awake, my noble dame!
To do the deed of shame.”
The baron he woke, the baron he rose,
And called his merrye men all : “And come thou forth, Sir John, the knighte,
Thy ladye is carried to thrall."
A mile forth of the towne,
Come galloping over the downe :
Sir John of the north countraye: “Nowe stop, nowe stop, thou false traitoure,
Nor carry that ladye awaye. “For she is come of hye lineage,
And was of a ladye borne; And it ill beseems thee-a false churl's sonne, To carry
her hence to scorne.” “Nowe loud thou lyest, Sir John the knighte,
Nowe thou dost lye of me;
Soe never did none by thee.
Light downe, and hold my steed; While I and this discourteous knighte
Do try this arduous deede. “But light nowe downe, my deare ladye,
Light downe, and hold my horse; While I and this discourteous knighte
Do try our valour's force.” Fair Emmeline sighed, fair Emmeline wept,
And aye her heart was woe, While 'twixt her love and the carlish knighte
Past many a baneful blowe.
The Child of Elle he fought so well
As his weapon he waved amaine, That soone he had slain the carlish knighte,
And laid him upon the plaine.
Full fast approached nye:
'Twere nowe no boote to flye.
And blew both loud and shrill,
Come ryding over the hill.
I pray thee hold thy hand,
Fast knit in true love's band.
Full long and many a day; But with such love as holy kirke
Hath freelye said wee may.
And bless a faithfull paire;
My house and lineage faire :
And a noble knighte my sire.”
With mickle dole and ire.
And did all tremblinge stand:
And held his lifted hand.
“Pardon, my lorde and father deare,
This faire young knighte and mee: Trust me, but for the carlish knighte,
I never had fled from thee. " Oft have you
Your Emmeline destroye."
And turned his head asyde,
He proudely strave to hyde.
And mused a little space;
With many a fond embrace.
And gave her lillye white hand;
And with her half my land. “Thy father once mine honour wrong'd,
In days of youthful prideDo thou the injurye repayre,
In fondness for thy bride: “And as thou love her, and hold her deare,
Heaven prosper thee and thine ! And now my blessing wend wi' thee ! My lovelye Emmeline !"
OLD BALLAD. JOHN GILPIN.
JOHN GILPIN was a citizen
Of credit and renown,
Of famous London town.
Though wedded we have been These twice ten tedious years, yet we
No holiday have seen. “ To-morrow is our wedding day,
And we will then repair Unto the Bell at Edmonton,
All in a chaise and pair.
Myself and children three,
On horseback after we.”
Of womankind but one,
Therefore it shall be done. “I am a linen-draper bold,
As all the world doth know, And my good friend the Callender
Will lend his horse to go.”
And for that wine is dear,
Which is both bright and clear.”