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THE CHILD OF ELLE. n Nyonder hill a castle standes,
With walles and towers bedıght,
A young and comely knighte:
And stood at his garden pale,
Come trippinge downe the dale.
The Childe of Elle he hyed him thence, .
Y-wis he floode not ftille,
Come climbing up the hille,
Nowe hye thee backe, thou little foot-page,
And greet thy ladye from mee,
Will dye, or sett her free.
Now hye thee backe, thou little foot-page,
And let thy fair ladye know This night will I bee at her bowre-windowe,
Beride me weale or woe.
O ladye, Ive been with thy own true love,
And he greets thee well by mee; This night will he bee at thy bowre-windowe,
And dye or sette thee free.
Awake, awake, my ladye deare,
Come, mount this faire palfraye: This ladder of ropes will lette thee downe, Ile carry thee hence awaye.
Nowe nay, nowe nay, thou gentle knight,
Now nay, this may not bee;
If alone I should wend with thee,
O ladye, wert thou in thy faddle fette,
And a little space him fro,
Nor the worst that might befalle.
Faire Emmeline fighde, fair Emmeline wept,
And aye her heart was woe:
And downe the ladder hee drewe: