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"And for vest of pall, thy fingers small,
That wont on harp to stray,
A cloak must shear from the slaughtered deer,
To keep the cold away."
"O Richard! if my brother died,
'Twas but a fatal chance;
For darkling was the battle tried,
"If pall and vair no more
As warm, we'll say, is the russet gray,
"And, Richard, if our lot be hard,
And lost thy native land,
Still Alice has her own Richard,
Tis merry, 'tis merry, in good greenwood;
On the beech's pride, and oak's brown side,
Up spoke the moody Elfin King,
Who 'woned within the hill,
Like wind in the porch of a ruined church,
Or who may dare on wold to wear
"Up, Urgan, up to yon mortal hie, For thou wert christened man; For cross or sign thou wilt not fly,
For muttered word or ban.
“Lay on him the curse of the withered heart,
Till he wish and pray that his life would part,
"Tis merry, 'tis merry, in good greenwood,
Up Urgan starts, that hideous dwarf,
And, as he crossed and blessed himself,
But out then spoke she, Alice Brand,
"Now loud thou liest, thou bold of mood!
It cleaves unto his hand,
The stain of thine own kindly blood,
The blood of Ethert Brand.' 99
Then forward stepped she, Alice Brand,
"And if there's blood on Richard's hand,
"And I conjure thee, demon elf, By Him whom demons fear,
To show us whence thou art thyself,
And what thine errand here?" what did
ou come here. fav.
""Tis merry, 'tis merry, in Fairy-land,
When fairy birds are singing,
When the court doth ride by their monarch's side,
With bit and bridle ringing:
And gayly shines the Fairy-land
But all is glistening show,
Like the idle gleam that December's beam
Can dart on ice and snow.
"And fading, like that varied gleam,
Is our inconstant shape,
Who now like knight and lady seem,
And now like dwarf and ape.
"It was between the night and day, When the Fairy King has power,
That I sunk down in a sinful fray, fight
To the joy
"But wist I of a woman bold,
Who thrice my brow °durst sign,
I might regain my mortal mould,
She crossed him once- - she crossed him twice
That lady was so brave;
The fouler grew his goblin hue,
The darker grew the cave.
She crossed him thrice, that lady bold;
He rose beneath her hand
The fairest knight on Scottish mould,
Merry it is in good greenwood,
When the mavis and merle are singing,
But merrier were they in Dunfermline gray,
Just as the minstrel sounds were stayed,
'Tis Snowdoun's Knight, 'tis James Fitz-James. Ellen beheld as in a dream,
Then, starting, scarce suppressed a scream:
"O stranger! in such hour of fear
What evil hap has brought thee here?"
"An evil hap how can it be
That bids me look again on thee?
"The happy path!-what! said he naught
Of guarded pass?" "No, by my faith!
Learn thou his purpose, and conjure
"Sweet Ellen, dear my life must be,
When love or honor's weighed with death
And speak my purpose bold at once.
Where ne'er 'before such blossom smiled,