Page:A Series of Plays on the Passions Volume 3.pdf/323

Rh

And she has climb'd the moat so steep, With chilly dread and fear, While th' evening fly humm'd dull and deep, Like a wardman whisp'ring near.

"Now, who art thou, thou Palmer tall,   Who beckonest so to me? Art thou from that dear and distant hall?    Art thou from the north countree?"

He rais'd his hood with wary wile, That cover'd his raven hair, And a manlier face and a sweeter smile Ne'er greeted lady fair.

"My coal-black steed feeds in the brake,   Of gen'rous blood and true; He'll soon the nearest frontier make,    Let they who list pursue.

"Thy pale cheek shows an alter'd mind,   Thine eye the blinding tear; Come not with me if aught behind    Is to thy heart more dear.

"Thy sire and dame are in that hall,   Thy friend, thy mother's son; Come not with me, if one o'them all    E'er lov'd thee as I have done."

The lady mounted the coal-black steed, Behind her knight I ween, And they have pass'd thro' brake and mead, And plain, and woodland green.