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ANCIENT POEMS.

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THE CHILD OF ELLE.

N yonder hill a caftle flandes,
With walles and towers bedight,
And yonder lives the Child of Elle,
A young and comely knighte.

The Child of Elle to his garden wente,
And flood at his garden pale,
Whan, lo! he beheld fair Emmelines page

Come trippinge downe the dale.

The Childe of Elle he hyed him thence,
Y-wis he floode not flille,

And foone he mette faire Emmeline's page

Come climbing up the hille.

Nowe Chrifte thee fave, thou little foot-page,

Now Chrifte thee fave and fee!

Oh telle me how does thy ladye gaye,

And what may the tydinges bee?

B

My lady fhee is all woe-begone,

And the teares they falle from her eyne; And aye fhee laments the deadlye feude Betweene her house and thine.

And here fhee fends thee a filken scarfe
Bedewde with many a teare,

And biddes the fometimes thinke on her,
Who loved thee fo deare.

And here fhee fends thee a ring of golde
The last boone thou mayft have,
And biddes thee weare it for her fake,
Whan fhe is layde in grave.

For ah! her gentle heart is broke,

And in grave foone must shee bee, Sith her fathir hath chofe her a new new love, And forbidde her to thinke of thee.

Her fathir hath brought her a carlish knight, Sir John of the northe countraye,

And within three days fhee muft him wedde, Or he vowes he will her flaye.

Nowe hye thee backe, thou little foot-page,
And greet thy ladye from mee,

And telle her that I her owne true love
Will dye, or fett 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. Betide me weale or woe.

The boye he tripped, the boye he ranne,
He neither flint ne stayd

Untill he came to faire Emmelines bowre,
Whan kneeling downe he fayd,

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 fette thee free.

Nowe daye was gone, and night was come, And all were fast asleepe,

All fave the ladye Emmeline,

Who fate in her bowre to weepe:

And foone fhee heard her true loves voice

Lowe whispering at the walle, Awake, awake, my deare ladye, Tis I thy true love call.

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;

For aye fhould I tint my maiden fame,
If alone I fhould wend with thee,

O ladye, thou with a knighte so true
Mayft fafelye wend alone,

To my ladye mother I will thee bringe,
Where marriage fhall make us one.

"My father he is a baron bolde,
Of lynage proude and hye;

And what would he faye if his daughter
Awaye with a knight should fly?

Ah! well I wot, he never would reft,
Nor his meate should doe him no goode,

Till he had flayne thee, Child of Elle,
And feene thy deare hearts bloode.”

O ladye, wert thou in thy faddle fette,
And a little space him fro,

I would not care for thy crucl father,
Nor the worst that might befalle.

Faire Emmeline fighde, fair Emmeline wept,
And aye her heart was woe:

At length he seizde her lilly-white hand,
And downe the ladder hee drewe:

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