For, ah! her gentle heart is broke,

And in grave soone must shee bee,
Sith her father hath chose her a new new love,
And forbidde her to think of thee.

Her father hath brought her a carlish' knight,
Sir John of the north countràye,

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And within three dayes shee must him wedde, 35
Or he vowes he will her slaye.

Nowe hye thee backe, thou little foot-page,
And greet thy ladye from mee,

And telle her that I her owne true love
Will dye, or sette her free.

Nowe hye thee backe, thou little foot-page,
And let thy fair ladye know

This night will I bee at her bowre-windòwe,
Betide me weale or woe.

The boye he tripped, the boye he ranne,
He neither stint ne stayd

Untill he came to fair Emmelines bowre,
Whan kneeling downe he sayd,

O ladye, I've been with thy own true love,
And he greets thee well by mee;

This night will he bee at thy bowre-windowe,
And dye or sette thee free.

Nowe daye was gone, and night was come,
And all were fast asleepe,

All save the ladye Emmeline,

Who sate in her bowre to weepe:

And soone shee heard her true loves voice

Lowe whispering at the walle,

[1 churlish.]

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Awake, awake, my deare ladyè,

Tis I thy true love call.

Awake, awake, my ladye deare,

Come, mount this faire palfràye :

This ladder of ropes will lette thee downe,
Ile carrye thee hence awaye.

Nowe nay, nowe nay, thou gentle knight,
Nowe nay, this may not bee;
For aye shold I tint my maiden fame,
If alone I should wend with thee.

O ladye, thou with a knighte so true
Mayst safelye wend alone,

To my ladye mother I will thee bringe,
Where marriage shall make us one.

My father he is a baron bolde,
Of lynage proude and hye;

And what would he saye if his daughter
Awaye with a knight should fly?

Ah! well I wot, he never would rest,]

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Nor his meate should doe him no goode,

Until he had slayne thee, Child of Elle,
And seene thy deare hearts bloode."

O ladye, wert thou in thy saddle sette,
And a little space him fro,

I would not care for thy cruel father,
Nor the worst that he could doe.

O ladye, wert thou in thy saddle sette,
And once without this walle,

I would not care for thy cruel father,
Nor the worst that might befalle.

[Faire Emmeline sighed, fair Emmeline wept, aye her heart was woe:

And

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At length he seized her lilly-white hand,
And downe the ladder he drewe :

And thrice he clasped her to his breste,
And kist her tenderlìe:

The teares that fell from her fair eyes,
Ranne like the fountayne free.]

Hee mounted himselfe on his steede so talle,
And her on a fair palfràye,

And slung his bugle about his necke,
And roundlye they rode awaye.

[All this beheard her owne damsèlle,

In her bed whereas shee ley,

Quoth shee, My lord shall knowe of this,
Soe I shall have golde and fee.

Awake, awake, thou baron bolde!
Awake, my noble dame!

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Your daughter is fledde with the Child of Elle,
To doe the deede of shame.

The baron he woke, the baron he rose,
And called his merrye men all:

"And come thou forth, Sir John the knighte,
Thy ladye is carried to thrall."1]

Faire Emmeline scant had ridden a mile,
A mile forth of the towne,

When she was aware of her fathers men
Come galloping over the downe:

[And foremost came the carlish knight,
Sir John of the north countràye:

"Nowe stop, nowe stop, thou false traitòure,
Nor carry that ladye awaye.

[1 into captivity.]

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For she is come of hye lineàge,

And was of a ladye borne,

And ill it beseems thee a false churl's sonne
To carrye her hence to scorne."]

Nowe loud thou lyest, Sir John the knight,
Nowe thou doest lye of mee;

A knight mee gott, and a ladye me bore,
Soe never did none by thee.

But light nowe downe, my ladye faire,
Light downe, and hold my steed,
While I and this discourteous knighte
Doe trye this arduous deede.

But light now downe, my deare ladyè,
Light downe, and hold my horse;
While I and this discourteous knight
[Doe trye our valour's force.

Fair Emmeline sighed, fair Emmeline wept,
And aye her heart was woe,

While twixt her love and the carlish knight

Past many a baleful blowe.

The Child of Elle hee fought soe well,

As his weapon he waived amaine,

That soone he had slaine the carlish knight,
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 boote1 to flye.

Her lover he put his horne to his mouth,
And blew both loud and shrill,
And soone he saw his owne merry men
Come ryding over the hill.

[no advantage.]

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'Nowe hold thy hand, thou bold baròn,
I pray thee hold thy hand,

Nor ruthless rend two gentle hearts,

Fast knit in true love's band.

Thy daughter I have dearly loved
Full long and many a day;
But with such love as holy kirke
Hath freelye sayd wee may.

O give consent, shee may be mine,
Ånd blesse a faithfull paire :
My lands and livings are not small,
My house and lineage faire:

My mother she was an earl's daughter,

And a noble knyght my sire

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The baron he frowned, and turn'd away
With mickle dole and ire.

Fair Emmeline sighed, faire Emmeline wept,

And did all tremblinge stand:

At lengthe she sprang upon her knee.
And held his lifted hand.

Pardon, my lorde and father deare,

This faire yong knyght and mee:
Trust me, but for the carlish knyght,
I never had fled from thee.

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

O let not then your harsh resolves
Your Emmeline destroye.

The baron he stroakt his dark-brown cheeke,

And turned his heade asyde

To whipe awaye the starting teare,

He proudly strave to hyde.

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