war
Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave
Lochinvar.
But he, nothing daunted, boldly entered the bridal hall among bridemen and bridemaids and kinsmen, thereby raising so general a commotion that the bride's father cried at once, the poor craven bridegroom being struck quite dumb:
“Oh, come ye in peace here, or coyne ye
inivar,
Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord
Lochinvar?”
The lover answers with apparent indifference that though he has in past times been exceedingly fond of the young person called Ellen, he has now merely come to tread a measure and drink one cup of wine with her, for although love swells like the tide, it ebbs like it also. So he drinks her health, while she sighs and blushes, weeps and smiles, alternately; then he takes her soft hand, her parents fretting and fuming the while, and leads the dance with her,—he so stately, she so lovely, that they are the subject of much envy, admiration, and sympathy. But while thus treading the measure, he whispers in her ear something to which she apparently consents without much unwillingness, and at the right moment they dance out from the crowd of kinsmen to the door of the great hall, where in the darkness the charger stands ready saddled. Quick as thought the dauntless lover swings his fair Ellen lightly up, springs before her on the saddle, and they dash furiously away:
“She is won! We are gone, over ban,