The book of British ballads . n 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 mid


The book of British ballads . n 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 cannot come ; I must not come ; I dare not come to thee ;On the eve of St. John I must wander alone : In thy bower I may not be. — F. Eranston sc. %ty <2Bbe of Sbt. J. N. Paton del. P, brauatcu sc. Now, out on thee, faint-hearted knight! Thou shouldst not say me nay;For the eve is sweet, and, when lovers meet, Is worth the whole summers day. And Ill chain the blood-hound,And the warder shall not sound, And rushes shall be strewd on the stair;So, by the black rood-stone, and by holy St. John, I conjure thee, my love, to be there! — Though the blood-hound ^be mute,And the rush beneath my foot, And the warder his bugle should not blow,There sleepeth a priest in the chamber to the east, And my footstep he would know. — 0 fear not the priest, who sleepeth to the east! For to Dryburgh the way he has taen ;And there to say mass, till three days do pass, For the soul of a knight that is slayne. — He turnd him around, and grimly he frownd ; Then he laughd right scornfully — He who says mass-rite for the soul of that knight, May as well say mass for me: At the midnight hour,When bad spirits have power, In thy chamber w


Size: 1033px × 2420px
Photo credit: © The Reading Room / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No

Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1840, bookidg, bookpublisherlondonjhow