DANG

THE CHILD OF ELLE.

N yonder hill a castle stands
With walls and towers bedight,
And yonder lives the Child of Elle,
A young and lovely knight.

The Child 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 Child of Elle he hied him hence,
I wis he stood not still,

And soon he met fair Emmeline's page
Come climbing up the hill.

"Now rest ye here, thou little foot-page, Now rest thee here with me;

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

"My lady she is all wo-begone,
And the tears they fill her een;
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 mayst 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;

Since her father hath chose her a new, new love, And forbid her to think of thee.

Her father hath brought her a carlish knight,
Sir John of the north country;

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 wo."

The boy he tripped, the boy he ran,
He neither stint nor stayed

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

"Oh, lady, I've been with thy 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 sat in her bower to weep.

And soon she heard her true love's 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."

Oh, lady, thou with knight so true
Mayst safely wend alone;

To my lady mother I will thee bring,
Where marriage shall make us one."

"My father he is a baron bold,
Of lineage proud and high;
And what would he say if his daughter
Away with a knight should fly?

Ah, well I wot he never would rest,
Nor his meat should do him no good,
Until he had slain thee, Child of Elle,
And seen thy dear heart's blood."

"Oh, lady, wert thou in saddle set,
And a little space him fro,

I would not care for thy cruel father,
Nor the worst that might befall.”

Fair Emmeline sighed, fair Emmeline wept,
And her heart did rue;

aye

At length he seized her lily-white hand,

And down the ladder he drew.

And thrice he clasped her to his breast,
And kissed her tenderly;

The tears that fell from her fair eyes
Ran like the fountain free.

He mounted himself on his steed so tall,
And her on a fair palfrey,

And slung his bugle about his neck,

And roundly they rode away.

All this beheard her own damsel,
In her bed whereas she lay;

Quoth she, "My lord shall know of this,
So I shall have gold and fee.

Awake, awake, thou baron bold!
Awake, my noble dame!

Your daughter is fled with the Child of Elle,
To do thee deed of shame."

The baron he woke, the baron he rose,
And called his merry men all:

"And come thou forth, Sir John the knight; Thy lady is carried to thrall."

Fair Emmeline scarce had ridden a mile,
A mile forth of the town,
When she o'erheard her father's men
Come gallopping o'er the down;

And foremost came the carlish knight,
Sir John of the north country:
"Now stop, now stop, thou false traitor,
Nor carry that lady away;

For she is come of high lineage,
And was of a lady born,

And ill it beseems thee, a false churl's son,
To carry her hence to scorn."

"Now loud thou liest, Sir John the knight, Now thou doest lie of me;

A knight me bred, and a lady me bore,
So never did none by thee.

But light now down, my lady fair,
Light down, and hold my steed,
While I and this discourteous knight
Do try this arduous deed.

But light now down, my dear lady,
Light down, and hold my horse,
While I and this discourteous knight
Do try our valour's force."

Fair Emmeline sighed, fair Emmeline wept,
And aye her heart was wo;

While 'twixt her love and the carlish knight

Passed many a baneful blow.

The Child of Elle he fought so well,

As his weapon he waved amain,

That soon he had slain the carlish knight,
And laid him on the plain.

Thy daughter I have dearly loved
Full long and many a day,
But with such love as holy kirk
Hath freely said we may.

Oh give consent she may be mine,
And bless a faithful pair;
My lands and livings are not small,
My house and lineage fair.

My mother she was an earl's daughter,
And a noble knight my sire."

The baron he frowned, and turned away
With meikle dole and ire.

Fair Emmeline sighed, fair Emmeline wept,
And did all trembling stand:

At length she sprang upon her knee,
And held his lifted hand.

The baron he stroked his dark-brown cheek,

And turned his head aside,

To wipe away the starting tear

He proudly strove to hide.