The book of British ballads . d more. The Baron returnd in three days space, And his looks were sad and sour ;And weary was his coursers pace, As he reachd his rocky tower. He came not from where Ancram Moor Ran red with English blood ;Where the Douglas true, and the bold Buccleuch, Gainst keen Lord Evers stood. Yet was his helmet hackd and hewd, His acton pierced and tore,His axe and his dagger with blood imbrued, — But it was not English gore. He lighted at the Chapellage, He held him close and still;And he whistled thrice for his little foot-page, His name was English Will. Come thou hither
The book of British ballads . d more. The Baron returnd in three days space, And his looks were sad and sour ;And weary was his coursers pace, As he reachd his rocky tower. He came not from where Ancram Moor Ran red with English blood ;Where the Douglas true, and the bold Buccleuch, Gainst keen Lord Evers stood. Yet was his helmet hackd and hewd, His acton pierced and tore,His axe and his dagger with blood imbrued, — But it was not English gore. He lighted at the Chapellage, He held him close and still;And he whistled thrice for his little foot-page, His name was English Will. Come thou hither, my little foot-page, Come hither to my knee;Though thou art young, and tender of age, I think thou art true to me. Come, tell me all that thou hast seen, And look thou tell me true!Since I from Smaylhome tower have been, What did thy lady do ? — My lady, each night, sought the lonely light,That burns on the wild Watchfold; For, from height to height, the beacons brightOf the English foemen told. 286 » mz of Sbt. III J. N. Fatou del. The bittern clamourd from the moss, The wind blew loud and shrill;Yet the craggy pathway she did cross, To the eiry Beacon Hill. I watchd her steps, and silent cameWhere she sat her on a stone ; — No watchman stood by the dreary flame,It burned all alone. The second night I kept her in sight, Till to the fire she came,And, by Marys might! an armed knight Stood by the lonely flame. And many a word that warlike lord Did speak to my lady there ;But the rain fell fast, and loud blew the blast, And I heard not what they were. The third night there the sky was fair,And the mountain-blast was still, As again I watchd the secret pair,On the lonesome Beacon Hill. And I heard her name the midnight hour, And name this holy eve ;And say, Come this night to thy ladys bower Ask no bold barons leave. He lifts his spear with the bold Buccleuch ; His lady is all alone;The door shell undo to her knight so true, On the eve of good St. John. — I cann
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