The trysting place was Newark Lee. Wat of Harden came thither amain, And thither came John of Thirlestaine, And cursed Lord Cranstoun's Goblin-Page. XXXIV. And now, in Branksome's good green wood, As under the aged oak he stood, The Baron's courser pricks his ears, As if a distant noise he hears. The Dwarf waves his long lean arm on high, And signs to the lovers to part and fly; No time was then to vow or sigh. Fair Margaret, through the hazel grove, Flew like the startled cushat-dove:* The Dwarf the stirrup held and rein; WHILE thus he poured the lengthened tale, * Wood pigeon. The attending maidens smiled to see, The precious juice the Minstrel quaffed; Looked gaily back to them and laughed. Swelled his old veins, and cheered his soul; A lighter, livelier prelude ran, Ere thus his tale again began. |