The book of British ballads . and the carlish knighte Past many a baneful blowe. The Child of Elle hee fought soe well,As his weapon he waved amaine, That soone he had slaine the carlish knighte,And layd him upon the plaine. And nowe the baron and all his men Full fast approached nye :Ah, what may ladye Emmeline doe ! Twere nowe no boote to flye. Her lover he put his horne to his mouth,And blew both loud and shrill, And soone he saw his owne merry menCome ryding over the hill. Nowe hold thy hand, thou bold baron, I pray thee hold thy hand,Nor ruthless rend two gentle hearts Fast knit in true l
The book of British ballads . and the carlish knighte Past many a baneful blowe. The Child of Elle hee fought soe well,As his weapon he waved amaine, That soone he had slaine the carlish knighte,And layd him upon the plaine. And nowe the baron and all his men Full fast approached nye :Ah, what may ladye Emmeline doe ! Twere nowe no boote to flye. Her lover he put his horne to his mouth,And blew both loud and shrill, And soone he saw his owne merry menCome ryding over the hill. Nowe hold thy hand, thou bold baron, I pray thee hold thy hand,Nor ruthless rend two gentle hearts Fast knit in true loves band. Thy daughter I have dearly loved Full long and many a day ;But with such love as holy kirke Hath freelye said wee may. O give consent, shee may be mine, And bless a faithfull paire :My lands and livings are not small, My house and lineage faire : My mother she was an earls daughter,And a noble knighte my sire :— The baron he frowned and turnd awayWith mickle dole and ire. 55 64 ®&e <&W of <&\ Fair Emmeline sighed, faire Emmeline wept, And did all tremblinge stand :At length she sprang upon her knee, And held his lifted hand. Pardon, my lorde and father deare,This faire younge knighte and mee : Trust me, but for the carlish knighte,I never had fled from thee. Oft have you called your Emmeline Your darling and yourjoye;0 ! let not then your harsh resolves Your Emmeline destroye. The baron he stroakt his dark-brown cheeke, And turned his heade asydeTo wipe awaye the starting teare He proudly strave to hyde. In deepe revolving thought he stoode, And mused a little space :Then raised faire Emmeline from the grounde, With many a fond embrace. In the Scottish ballads, as we have intimated, the affair hasafar less happy termination; the lover dying of his wounds,and the Lady Margaret of a broken heart : — Lord William was buried in St. Maries kirk, Lady Margret in Maries quire;Out of the ladys grave grew a bonny red rose, And out of the knights a brier. And the
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