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“ My father he is a baron bolde,
“ Of lynage proud and hye, “ And what would he say if his daughter
"Away with a knight should fly ? « Ah well I wot he nevir would rest,
“ Nor his meate should do him no goode, “ Till he had slayne thee, Child of Elle,
“ And seene thy deare heart's bloode.” O, lady, wert thou in thy saddle set, And a little
him fro, I would not care for thy cruel father,
Nor the worst that he could doe.
O, lady, wert thou in thy saddle sette,
And once without this walle,
Nor the worst that might befalle.
And aye her heart was woe,
And doune the ladder he drewe.
And thrice he claspde her to his breste,
And kist her tenderlie:
Ranne like the fountayne free.
And her on a fair palfraye,
And roundlye they rode awaye.
In her bed whereas she lay,
So I shall have golde and fee.
Awake, awake, thou baron bold !
Awake, my noble dame! Your daughter is fledde with the Child of Elle, To doe
the deede of shame.
The baron he woke, the baron he rose,
And callde his merry men all ; “ And come thou forth, Sir John the knighte,
* The ladye is carried to thrall.”
A mile forth of the towne,
Come galloping over the downe.
Sir John of the north countraye, « Nowe stop, nowe stop, thou false traitour,
“ Nor carry that lady awaye. “ For she is come of hye lynage,
" And was of a lady borne; “ And ill it beseems thee a false churles's sonne, To carry
her hence to scorne."
Now thou doest lye of mee;
Soe never did none by thee.
But light now doune, my lady faire,
Light down and hold my steed,
Do try this arduous deede.
And aye her heart was woe;
Past many a baleful blow.
The Child of Elle he fought soe well,
As his weapon he wavde amaine,
And layd him upon the playne.
Full fast approached nye,
'Twere now no boote to flye.
Her lover he put his horne to his mouth,
And blew both loud and shrill,
Come rydyng over the hill.
pray thee hold thy hand;
Fast knit in true love's band.
Thy daughter I have dearly lovde,
Full long and many a day,
Hath freelye said wee may.
Ånd blesse a faithful pare;
My house and lynage faire.
And a noble knight my sire-
With meikle dole and ire.
Fair Emmeline sigh’d, fair Emmeline wept,
And did all trembling stand;
And held his lifted hand.
Pardon, my lord and father deare,
This fair young knight and mee, Trust me, but for the
carlish knight, I never had fled from thee.
Your Emmeline destroye.
The baron he stroakd his dark broun cheeke,
And turnd his head asyde, To wipe away the starting teare
He proudly strave to hyde.
In deep revolving thought he stoode,
And mus'd a little space; Then rais'd fair Emmeline from the grounde,
With many a fond embrace.
Here take her, Child of Elle, he sayd;
gave her lillye hand:
And with her half my land.
Thy father once mine honour wrong'd,
In dayes of youthful pride, Do thou the injury repayre
In fondness for thy bride.
And as thou love her, and hold her deare,
Heaven prosper thee and thine; And now my blessing wend wi' thee
My lovelye Emmeline.
THE WIFE OF AUCHTERMUCHTY.
In Auchtermuchty dwelt a Man,
An Husband, as I heard it tauld, Quha weil could tipple out a Can,
And nowther luvit Hungir nor Cauld, Till anes it fell upon a Day,
He zokit his Plewch upon the Plain; But schort the Storm wald let him stay,
Sair blew the Day with Wind and Rain.
He lowsd the Plewch at the Lands End,
And draife his Owsen hame at Ene; Quhen he came in he blinkit ben,
And saw his Wyfe baith dry and clene, Set beikand by a Fyre full bauld,
Suppand fat Sowp, as I heard say: The Man being weary, wet and cauld,
Betwein thir twa it was nae Play.
Quod he, quhair is my Horses Corn,
My Owsen has nae Hay nor Strae,
I sall be Hussy gif I may.
And ze sit warm, nae Troubles se;
zeil ken what drinkers drie.
Gudeman, quod scho, content am I,
To tak the Plewch my Day about, Sac ye rule weil the Kaves and Ky,
And all the House baith in and out: And now sen ze haif made the Law,
Then gyde all richt and do not break; They sicker raid that ncir did faw,
Therefore let naithing, bc neglect.