Yet strong in this, that, let the world have end,

He had pledged his own, and held Rhotruda's troth.

But Love, who had led these lovers thus along,

Played them a trick one windy night and cold:

For Eginardus, as his wont had been,

Crossing the quadrangle, and under dark,

No faint moonshine, nor sign of any

star,

Seeking the Princess' door, such welcome found,

The knight forgot his prudence in his love;

For lying at her feet, her hands in his,

And telling tales of knightship and emprise,

And ringing war; while up the smooth white arm

His fingers slid insatiable of touch, The night grew old: still of the herodeeds

That he had seen, he spoke; and bitter blows

Where all the land seemed driven into dust!

Beneath fair Pavia's wall, where Loup beat down

The Longobard, and Charlemagne laid on,

Cleaving horse and rider; then, for dusty drought

Of the fierce tale, he drew her lips to his,

And silence locked the lovers fast and long,

Till the great bell crashed One into their dream.

The castle-bell! and Eginard not away!

With tremulous haste she led him to the door,

When, lo! the courtyard white with fallen snow,

While clear the night hung over it with stars.

A dozen steps, scarce that, to his own door:

A dozen steps? a gulf impassable! What to be done? Their secret

must not lie

Bare to the sneering eye with the first light;

She could not have his footsteps at her door!

Discovery and destruction were at hand:

And, with the thought, they kissed, and kissed again;

When suddenly the lady, bending, drew

Her lover towards her half-unwillingly,

And on her shoulders fairly took him there,

Who held his breath to lighten all his weight,

And lightly carried him the courtyard's length

To his own door; then, like a frightened hare,

Fled back in her own tracks unto her bower,

To pant awhile, and rest, that all was safe.

"Feast on, feast on, my maidens a',
The wine flows you amang,
While I gang to my shot-window,
And hear yon bonny bird's sang.

"Sing on, sing on, my bonny bird, The sang ye sung yestreen;

For weel I ken, by your sweet singing,

Ye are frae my true love sen."

O first he sang a merry sang,
And syne he sang a grave;
And syne he picked his feathers gray,
To her the letter gave.

"Have there a letter from Lord William;

He says he's sent ye three;
He canna wait your love langer,
But for your sake he'll die.".

"Gae bid him bake his bridal bread, And brew his bridal ale;

And I shall meet him at Mary's kirk,

Lang, lang ere it be stale."

The lady's gane to her chamber,
And a moanfu' woman was she;
As gin she had ta'en a sudden brash,
And were about to die.

"A boon, a boon, my father deir, A boon I beg of thee!""Ask not that haughty Scottish lord, For him you ne'er shall see:

"But, for your honest asking else,
Weel granted it shall be."
"Then gin I die in Southern land,
In Scotland gar bury me.

"And the first kirk that ye come to,
Ye's gar the mass be sung;
And the next kirk that ye come to,
Ye's gar the bells be rung.

"And when you come to St. Mary's kirk,

Ye's tarry there till night."
And so her father pledged his word,
And so his promise plight.

She has ta'en her to her bigly bouer
As fast as she could fare;
And she has drank a sleepy draught,
That she had mixed wi' care.

And pale, pale, grew her rosy cheek,
That was sae bright of blee,
And she seemed to be as surely dead
As any one could be.

Then spake her cruel step-minnie,
"Tak ye the burning lead,
And drap a drap on her bosome,
To try if she be dead.”

They took a drap o' boiling lead, They drapped it on her breast; Alas! alas!" her father cried, She's dead without the priest."

She neither chattered with her teeth, Nor shivered with her chin; "Alas! alas!" her father cried, "There is nae breath within."

Then up arose her seven brethren,
And hewed to her a bier;
They hewed it frae the solid aik,
Laid it o'er wi' silver clear.

Then up and gat her seven sisters,
And sewed to her a kell;
And every stitch that they put in
Sewed to a siller bell.

The first Scots kirk that they cam to,
They garr'd the bells be rung;
The next Scots kirk that they cam to,
They garr'd the mass be sung.

But when they cam to St. Mary's kirk,

There stude spearmen all in a raw; And up and started Lord William, The chieftane amang them a'.

"Set down, set down the bier," he said,

"Let me look her upon:" But as soon as Lord William touched her hand,

Her colour began to come.

She brightened like the lily flower,
Till her pale colour was gone;
With rosy cheek, and ruby lip,
She smiled her love upon.

"A morsel of your bread, my lord,
And one glass of your wine;
For I hae fasted these three lang
days,

All for your sake and mine.