Pardon, my lord and father dear,

This fair young knight and me: Trust me, but for the carlish knight, I never had fled from thee.

Oft have you called your Emmeline
Your darling and your joy;

O let not then your harsh resolves

Your Emmeline destroy.

The baron he stroked his dark-brown cheek,

And turned his head aside

To wipe away the starting tear
He proudly strove to hide.

In deep revolving thought he stood,

And mused a little space:

Then raised fair Emmeline from the ground,

With many a fond embrace.

Here, take her, Childe of Elle, he said,

And gave her lily hand;

Here, take my dear and only child,

And with her half my land: