The baron he stroked his dark-brown cheek,
And turned his head aside
To wipe away the starting tear
He proudly strove to hide.
In deep revolving thought he stood,
And mused a little space:
Then raised fair Emmeline from the ground,
With many a fond embrace.
THE CHILD OF ELLE.
Here, take her, Childe of Elle, he said,
And gave her lily hand;
Here, take my dear and only child,
And with her half my land:
Thy father once mine honour wronged
In days of youthful pride;
Do thou the injury repair
In fondness for thy bride.
And as thou love her, and hold her dear,
Heaven prosper thee and thine:
And now my blessing wend wi' thee,
My lovely Emmeline.
