Pardon, my lorde and father deare,
This faire yong knyght and mee:
Trust me, but for the carlish knyght,175
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.180
The baron he stroakt his dark-brown cheeke,
And turned his heade asyde
To whipe awaye the starting teare,
He proudly strave to hyde.
In deepe revolving thought he stoode,185
And mused a little space;
Then raised faire Emmeline from the grounde,
With many a fond embrace.
Here take her, Child of Elle, he sayd,
And gave her lillye white hand;190
Here take my deare and only child,
And with her half my land:
Thy father once mine honour wrongde
In dayes of youthful pride;
Do thou the injurye repayre195
In fondnesse for thy bride.
And as thou love her, and hold her deare,
Heaven prosper thee and thine:
And nowe my blessing wend wi' thee,
My lovelye Emmeline.]200
⁂
†‡† From the word kirke in ver. 159, this hath been thought to be a Scottish Ballad, but it must be acknowledged that the line referred to is among the additions supplied by the Editor: besides, in the Northern counties of England, kirk is used in the common dialect for church, as well as beyond the Tweed.