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Her Monarch's risk in battle broil ;
And in gay Holy-Rood, the while,
Upon the harp to play.
The strings her fingers flew;
Was plainer given to view ; For all for heat was laid aside Her wimple, and her hood untied. And first she pitched her voice to sing, Then glanced her dark eye on the King, And then around the silent ring ; And laughed, and blushed, and oft did say Her pretty oath, by Yea, and Nay, She could not, would not, durst not play! At length, upon the harp, with glee, Mingled with arch simplicity, A soft, yet lively, air she rung, While thus the wily lady sung.
Lady Heron's Song. . 0, young Lochinvar is come out of the west, Through all the wide Border his steed was the best; And save his good broad-sword he weapon had none, He rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone. . So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.
He staid not for brake, and he stopped not for stone,
So boldly he entered the Netherby Hall,
Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword, (For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word,) “ O come ye in peace here, or come ye in war, Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar?”
“I long wooed your daughter, my suit you denied ;-
The bride kissed the goblet ; the knight took it up,
So stately his form, and so lovely her face,
While her mother did fret, and her father did fume, And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and
plume ; And the bride-maidens whispered, “ 'Twere better
by far To have matched our fair cousin with young Loch
One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear, When they reached the hall-door, and the charger
stood near; So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung, So light to the saddle before her he sprung! “She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur; They'll have fleet steeds that follow," quoth young
There was mounting ’mong Græmes of the Netherby e clan; Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and
they ran :