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“And on this day, with pomp and pride,
From hence you'll see him borne ; And his poor faither sad return
Of landis and onuris shorne.
“Come to my littill chambir still,
In yonder turret low;
And for the leeving too.
" And when thou hast a free repast
Of wheat bread and the wine,
As oft it has dune mine."
“O why look ye so pale, my lord ?
And why look ye so wan?
So early in the dawn?"
"O well may I look pale, lady!
For how can I look gay, When I have fought the live-long night,
And fled at break of day.”
“And is the border troop arrived ?
And have they won the day? It must have been a bloody field,
Ere Derwent fled away.
“But where got ye that stately steed,
So stable and so good ?
“I got that sword in bloody fray,
Last night on Eden downe ;
Where mortal ne'er got one."
“ Alight, alight, my noble lord ;
God mot you save and see; For never, till this hour, was I
Afraid to look on thee."!
He turned him to the glowing east,
That stained both tower and tree : • Prepare, prepare, my lady fair, Prepare to follow me.
“Before this dawning day shall close,
A deed shall here be done, That men unborn shall shrink to hear,
And dames the tale shall shun.
“ The conscious morning blushes deep,
The foul intent to see. Prepare, prepare, my lady fair,
Prepare to follow me."
" Alight, alight, my noble lord,
I'll live or die with thee;
And hence you cannot flee."
She looked out o'er her left shoulder
To list a heavy groan ;
Her noble lord was gone.
She looked to east, and west, and south,
And all around the tower; Through house and hall, but man nor horse
She never could see more.
She turned her round, and round about,
All in a doleful state;
Alighting at the gate.
“O! open, open, noble dame,
And let your servant in;
The castle fair to win."
“But tell me, Billy, where's my lord ?
Or whither is he bound ? He's
's gone just now, and in his side A deep and deadly wound.”
“Why do you rave, my noble dame,
And look so wild on me?
And him you'll never see.
“With Scottish Jardine, hand to hand,
He fought most valiantly,
With shouts of victory.
“But Maxwell rallying, wheeled about,
And charged as fierce as hell; Yet ne'er could pierce the English troop
Till my brave master fell.
“ Then all was gone; the ruffian Scot
Bore down our flying band; And now they waste, with fire and sword,
The Links of Cumberland.
“Lord Maxwell's gone to Carlisle town,
With Jardine bold and true;
Are come in search of you."
“How dare you lie, my little page,
Whom I pay meat and fee?
Since Derwent was with me.
“ The bird that sits on yonder bush,
And sings so loud and clear,
Since my good lord was here."