Page:Celebrated ballad of the lass of Fair Wone, or, The parson's daughter betrayed.pdf/5

 Her sire, a harsh and angry man,

With furious voice revil'd:

"Hence from my sight! I'll none of thee—

"I harbour not thy child."

And fast, amid her fluttering hair,

With clenched fist he gripes,

And seiz'd a leathern thong, and lash'd

Her side with sounding stripes.

Her lily skin, so soft and white,

He ribb’d with bloody wales;

And thrust her out, tho' black the night,

Tho-sleet and storm assails.

Up the harsh rock. on flinty paths,

The maiden had to roam;

On tottering feet she grop'd her way,

And sought her lover's home.

"A mother, thou hast made of me,

" Before thou mad'st a wife;

" For this, upon my tender breast,

" These livid-stripes are rife.

"Behold!" And then, with bitter sobs,

She sunk upon the floor any—

"Make good the evil thou hast wrought;

"My injur'd name restore."

"Poor soul! I'll have thee hous'd and nurs'd,

" Thy terrors. I lament;

"Stay here; we'll have some further talk—

" The old one shall repent.'

"I have no time to rest and wait,

" That saves not my good name: