IV.
Up in the ancient Castle of Weir
Sat the baron, the knight, and the fair Tomasine;
And the baron he looked at his daughter dear,
While the salt tears bleared his aged eyne;
And then to the steward, with hat in hand:
"Make known unto all, from Tweed to Tyne,
A hundred rose nobles I'll give to the man
Who saved the life of my Tomasine."
Sir Hubert cried out, in an envious vein,
"Who is he that will vouch for the lurdan loon?
There's no one to say he would know him again,
And another may claim the golden boon."
Then said the ladye, "My eyes were closed,
And I never did see this wondrous man;
And the cottar woman she hath deposed
He was gone ere his features she could scan."
"Ho!" cried the baron, "I watched him then,
As I stood on the opposite bank afeared;
Of a hundred men I would ken him again,
Though he were to doff his dun-brown beard."
A year has passed at the Castle of Weir,
Yet no one has claimed the golden don;
Most wonderful thing to tell or to hear!
Was he of flesh and blood and bone?
Though golden nobles might not him wile,
Was there not something more benign?
Was not for him a maiden's smile?
Was not that maiden Tomasine?