"O Alice, 'twas all for thy locks so bright, "Now must I teach to hew the beech "And for vest of pall, thy fingers small, That wont on harp to stray, A cloak must shear from the slaughter'd deer, To keep the cold away." "O Richard! if my brother died, For darkling was the battle tried, "If pall and vair no more I wear, As warm, we'll say, is the russet grey, "And, Richard, if our lot be hard, And lost thy native land, Still Alice has her own Richard, And he his Alice Brand." XIII. 'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in good greenwood, On the beech's pride, and oak's brown side, Up spoke the moody Elfin King, Who won'd within the hill, Like wind in the porch of a ruin'd church, "Why sounds yon stroke on beech and oak, Or who comes here to chase the deer, "Up, Urgan, up! to yon mortal hie, "Lay on him the curse of the wither'd heart, The curse of the sleepless eye; Till he wish and pray that his life would part, Nor yet find leave to die." XIV. 'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in good greenwood, Though the birds have still'd their singing; The evening blaze doth Alice raise, And Richard is fagots bringing. Up Urgan starts, that hideous dwarf, And, as he cross'd and bless'd himself, "That is made with bloody hands." But out then spoke she, Alice Brand, "Now loud thou liest, thou bold of mood! It cleaves unto his hand, The stain of thine own kindly blood, The blood of Ethert Brand." Then forward stepp'd she, Alice Brand, 66 And made the holy sign, 'And if there's blood on Richard's hand, A spotless hand is mine. "And I conjure thee, Demon elf, XV. ""Tis merry, 'tis merry, in Fairy-land, When fairy birds are singing, When the court doth ride by their monarch's side, With bit and bridle ringing: "And gaily shines the Fairy-land But all is glistening show, Like the idle gleam that December's beam Can dart on ice and snow. "And fading, like that varied gleam, Who now like knight and lady seem, “It was between the night and day, "But wist I of a woman bold, Who thrice my brow durst sign, I might regain my mortal mold, As fair a form as thine." She cross'd him once-she cross'd him twiceThat lady was so brave; The fouler grew his goblin hue, The darker grew the cave. She cross'd him thrice, that lady bold; He rose beneath her hand The fairest knight on Scottish mold, Merry it is in good greenwood, When the mavis and merle are singing, But merrier were they in Dunfermeline gray When all the bells were ringing. EDMUND'S SONG (From Rokeby, 1812) CANTO III. XVI. O, Brignall banks are wild and fair, CHORUS "O, Brignall banks are fresh and fair, I'd rather rove with Edmund there, "If, maiden, thou wouldst wend with me, To leave both tower and town, Thou first must guess what life lead we, And if thou canst that riddle read, Then to the greenwood shalt thou speed, CHORUS Yet sung she, "Brignall banks are fair, "I read you, by your bugle-horn, His blast is heard at merry morn, CHORUS Yet sung she, "Brignall banks are fair, (6 'With burnish'd brand and musketoon, So gallantly you come, I read you for a bold dragoon, |