O ladye, wert thou in thy faddle sette, And once without this walle, I would not care for thy cruel father, Faire Emmeline fighde, fair Emmeline wept, And aye her heart was woe: At length he feizde her lilly-white hand, And downe the ladder he drewe : And thrice he clafpde her to his brefte, And kift her tenderlìe: 85 90 The teares that fell from her fair eyes, 95 Ranne like the fountayne free. Hee mounted himselfe on his fteede fo talle, And flung his bugle about his necke, All this beheard her owne damfèlle, In her bed whereas fhee ley, Quoth fhee, My lord fhall knowe of this, Soe I fhall have golde and fee. Awake, awake, thou baron bolde! Awake, my noble dame! Your daughter is fledde with the Child of Elle, To doe the deede of fhame. 100 105 The The baron he woke, the baron he rose, "And come thou forth, Sir John the knighte, The ladye is carried to thrall." 110 Faire Emmeline fcant had ridden a mile, A mile forth of the towné, When he was aware of her fathers men 115 Come galloping over the downe: And foremost came the carlish knight, Sir John of the north countràye: "Nowe stop, nowe stop, thou false taitòure, Nor carry that ladye awaye. For she is come of hye lynàge, And was of a ladye borne, And ill it befeems thee a falfe churles fonne To carrye her hence to scorne." 120 Nowe loud thou lyeft, Sir John the knight, 125 Nowe thou doeft lye of mee; A knight mee gott, and a ladye me bore, Soe never did none by thee. But light nowe downe, my ladye faire, Light downe, and hold my fteed, While I and this difcourteous knighte Doe trye this arduous deede. 130 But But light now downe, my deare ladyè, Fair Emmeline fighde, fair Emmeline wept, While twixt her love and the carlish knight The Child of Elle hee fought foe well, That foone he had flaine the carlish knight, 135 140 And nowe the baron, and all his men 145 Full faft approached nye: Ah! what may ladye Emmeline doe? Her lover he put his horne to his mouth, And blew both loud and fhrill, 150 And foone he faw his owne merry men Come ryding over the hill. "Nowe hold thy hand, thou bold baròn, Thy daughter I have dearly lovde But with fuch love as holy kirke Hath freelye fayd wee may. O give confent, fhee may be mine, My mother fhe was an erles daughter, The baron he frownde, and turnde away With mickle dole and ire. Fair Emmeline fighde, faire Emmeline wept, And did all tremblinge ftand: At lengthe the sprange upon her knee, And held his lifted hand. Pardon, my lorde and father deare, This faire yong knyght and mee: 160 165 170 Trust me, but for the carlish knyght, 175 Oft have you callde your Emmeline Your darling and your joye; O let not then your harth refolves 180 The The baron he ftroakt his dark-brown cheeke, And turnde his heade afyde To whipe awaye the starting teare, He proudly ftrave to hyde. In deepe revolving thought he stoode, And mufde a little space; Then raifde faire Emmeline from the grounde, With many a fond embrace. Here take her, Child of Elle, he fayd, And gave her lillye hand; Here take my deare and only child, And with her half my land: Thy father once mine honour wrongde In dayes of youthful pride; Do thou the injurye repayre In fondneffe for thy bride. And as thou love her, and hold her deare, And nowe my bleffing wend wi' thee, My lovelye Emmeline. 185 190 195 200 |