The Childe of Elle
On yonder hill a castle stands,
With walls and towers bedight,27
And yonder lives the Childe of Elle,
A young and comely knight.
The Childe of Elle to his garden went,
And stood at his garden-pale,
When, lo! he beheld fair Emmeline’s page
Come tripping down the dale.
The Childe of Elle he hied him thence,
I wist he stood not still,
And soon he met fair Emmeline’s page
Come climbing up the hill.
Now Christe thee save, thou little foot-page,
Now Christe thee save and see!
Oh tell me how does thy lady gay,
And what may thy tidings be?
My lady she is all woe-begone,
And the tears they fall from her eyne;28
And aye she laments the deadly feud
Between her house and thine.
And here she sends thee a silken scarf
Bedewed with many a tear,
And bids thee sometimes think on her,
Who lovèd thee so dear.
And here she sends thee a ring of gold,
The last boon thou may’st have,
And bids thee wear it for her sake,
When she is laid in grave.
For, ah! her gentle heart is broke,
And in grave soon must she be,
For her father hath chose her a new love,
And forbid her to think of thee.
Her father hath brought her a carlish29 knight,
Sir John of the north countrey,
And within three days she must him wed,
Or he vows he will her slay.
Now hie thee back, thou little foot-page,
And greet thy lady from me,
And tell her that I, her own true love,
Will die, or set her free.
Now hie thee back, thou little foot-page,
And let thy fair lady know,
This night will I be at her bower-window,
Betide me weal or woe.
The boy he tripped, the boy he ran,
He neither stint30 nor stay’d
Until he came to fair Emmeline’s bower,
When, kneeling down, he said,
O lady, I’ve been with thine own true love,
And he greets thee well by me;
This night will he be at thy bower-window,
And die or set thee free.
Now day was gone, and night was come,
And all were fast asleep,
All save the lady Emmeline,
Who sate in her bower to weep:
And soon she heard her true love’s voice
Low whispering at the wall;
Awake, awake, my dear lady,
’Tis I, thy true love, call.
Awake, awake, my lady dear,
Come, mount this fair palfrey:
This ladder of ropes will let thee down,
I’ll carry thee hence away.
Now nay, now nay, thou gentle knight,
Now nay, this may not be;
For aye should I tint31 my maiden fame,
If alone I should wend32 with thee.
O lady, thou with a knight so true
May’st safely wend alone;
To my lady mother I will thee bring,
Where marriage shall make us one.
My father he is a baron bold,
Of lineage proud and high;
And what would he say if his daughter
Away with a knight should fly?
Ah! well I wot, he never would rest,
Nor his meat should do him no good,
Till he had slain thee, Childe of Elle,
And seen thy dear heart’s blood.
O lady, wert thou in thy saddle set,
And a little space him fro’,
I would not care for thy cruel father,
Nor the worst that he could do.
O lady, wert thou in thy saddle set,
And once without this wall,
I would not care for thy cruel father,
Nor the worst that might befall.
Fair Emmeline sighed, fair Emmeline wept,
And aye her heart was woe:
At length he seized her lily-white hand,
And down the ladder he drew:
And thrice he clasped her to his breast,
And kissed her tenderly:
The tears that fell from her fair eyes,
Ran like the fountain free.
He mounted himself on his steed so tall,
And her on a fair palfrey,
And slung his bugle about his neck,
And roundly they rode away.
All this beheard her own damsel,
In her bed wherein she lay;
Quoth she, My lord shall know of this,
So I shall have gold and fee.
Awake, awake, thou baron bold!
Awake, my noble dame!
Your daughter is fled with the Childe of Elle,
To do the deed of shame.
The baron he woke, the baron he rose,
And called his merry men all:
And come thou forth, Sir John the knight,
Thy lady is carried to thrall.
Fair Emmeline scarce had ridden a mile,
A mile forth of the town,
When she was aware of her father’s men
Come galloping over the down:
And foremost came the carlish knight,
Sir John of the north countrey:
Now stop, now stop, thou false traitor,
Nor carry that lady away.
For she is come of high lineage,
And was of a lady born,
And ill it beseems thee, a false churl’s son,
To carry her hence to scorn.
Now loud thou liest, Sir John the knight,
Now thou dost lie of me;
A knight me got, and a lady me bore,
So never did none by thee.
But light now down, my lady fair,
Light down, and hold my steed,
While I and this discourteous knight
Do try this arduous deed.
But light now down, my dear lady,
Light down, and hold my horse;
While I and this discourteous knight
Do try our valour’s force.
Fair Emmeline sighed, fair Emmeline
And aye her heart was woe,
While ’twixt her love and the carlish knight
Past many a baleful blow.
The Childe of Elle he fought so well,
As his weapon he waved amain,
That soon he had slain the carlish knight,
And laid him upon the plain.
And now the baron and all his men
Full fast approached nigh:
Ah! what may lady Emmeline do!
’Twere now no boote33 to fly.
Her lover he put his horn to his mouth,
And blew both loud and shrill,
And soon he saw his own merry men
Come riding over the hill.
Now hold thy hand, thou bold baron,
I pray thee, hold thy hand,
Nor ruthless rend two gentle hearts,
Fast knit in true love’s band.
Thy daughter I have dearly loved
Full long and many a day;
But with such love as holy kirk
Hath freely said we may.
O give consent she may be mine,
And bless a faithful pair:
My lands and livings are not small,
My house and lineage fair:
My mother she was an earl’s daughter,
And a noble knight my sire—
The baron he frowned, and turned away
With mickle34 dole and ire.
Fair Emmeline sighed, fair Emmeline wept,
And did all trembling stand:
At length she sprang upon her knee,
And held his lifted hand.
Pardon, my lord and father dear,
This fair young knight and me:
Trust me, but for the carlish knight,
I never had fled from thee.
Oft have you called your Emmeline
Your darling and your joy;
O let not then your harsh resolves
Your Emmeline destroy.
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.
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.
Footnotes
27 Bedeck’d.
28 Eyes.
29 Churlish.
30 Stopped.
31 Lose.
32 Go.
33 Good.
34 Much grief.