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A message went, no daughter came;

Fair ISABEL ne'er appears : Behrew me said the aged chief,

Young maidens have their fears.


up, my son, thou shalt her fee So soon as thou canst ride ; And she shall nurse thee in her bower,

And she shall be thy bride.

Sir Bertram, at her name reviv'd,

He bless d the foothing found ; Fond hope supplied the Nurse's care,

And heal d his ghastly wound.

WARx caftle, a fortress belonging to the English, and of great note in antient times, stood on the foạthern bank of the river Tweed, a little to the east of Tiviotdale, and not far from Kelso. It is now entirely destroyed.






Northumberland BAL L A D.



NE early morn while dewy drops

Hung trembling on the tree,
Sir Bertram from his fick bed rofe,
His bride he would



A brother he had in prime of youth,

Of courage firm and keen,
And he would tend him on the way

Because his wounds were green.

All day o'er moss and moor they rode,

By many a lonely tower ;
And 'twas the dew-fall of the night

Ere they drew near her bower.

Most drear and dark the castle feemid,

That wont to shine so bright;
And long and loud Sir Bertram call'd
Ere he beheld a light.

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At length her aged Nurse arose

With voice so thrill and clear : What wight is this, that calls so loud,

And knocks so boldly here?

'Tis Bertram calls, thy Lady's love,

Come from his bed of care :
All day I've ridden o'er moor and moss

To see thy lady fair.

Now out alas! (the loudly shriek'd)

Alas ! how may this be ?
For fix long days are gone and past

Since she set out to thee.

Sad terror seiz'd Sir Bertram's heart,

And ready was he to fall;" When now the draw-bridge was let down,

And gates were open'd all.

Six days, young knight, are past and gone,

Since the set out to thee ;
And sure if no sad harm had hap'd

Long since thou would'st her fee.

For when she heard thy grievous chance

She tore her hair, and cried,
Alas! I've slain the comeliest knight,

All thro' my folly and pride!

And now to atone for my fad fault,

And his dear health regain, I'll

go myself, and nurse my love, And footh his bed of pain.

Then mounted she her milk-white steed

One morn at break of day;
And two tall yeomen went with her

To guard her on the way.

Sad terror (mote Sir Bertram's heart,

And grief o'erwhelm’d his mind : Truft


said he, I ne'er will rest 'Till I thy lady find.

That night he spent in forrow and care ;

And with sad bodipg heart Or ever the dawning of the day

His brother and he depart.

Now, brother, we'll our ways divide,

O’er Scottish hills to range : Do thou go north, and I'll go

And all our dress we'll change.

weft ;

Some Scottish carle hath seiz'd my love,

And borne her to his den ;
And ne'er will I tread English ground

Till she is restored agen.

The brothers ftrait their paths divide,
O'er Scottish hills to

range ; And hide themselves in quaint disguise,

And oft their dress they change.

Sir Bertram clad in gown of gray,

Moft like a palmer poor,
To halls and castles wanders round,

And begs from door to door.

Sometimes a Minstrel's garb he wears,

With pipes so sweet and shrill ; And wends to every tower and town;

O’er every dale and hill.

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Cheer up, my fon; perchance, (he faid)

Some tidings I may bear :
For oft when human hopes have fail'd,

Then heavenly comfort's near.

Behind yon hills fo fteep and high,

Down in a lowly glen,
There stands a cattle fair and strong,

Far from th' abode of men.

As late I chanc'd to crave an alms

About this evening hour,
Me-thought I heard a Lady's voice

Lamenting in the tower.

And when I ask'd, what harm had hap'd,

What lady fick there lay?
They rudely drove me from the gate,

And bade me wend away.

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