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The missletoe hung in the castle hall, The holly branch shono on the old oak wall; And the baron's retainers were blithe and gay, And keeping their Christmas holiday: The baron beheld with a father's pride, His beautiful child young Lovel's bride : While she with her bright eyes seem'd to be The star of the goodly company.

"I'm weary of dancing now," she cried, "Here, tarry a moment, l'll hide, I'll hide; And Lovel be sure thou'rt the first to trace, The clue to my secret lurking place." Away she ran, and her friends began, Each tower to search, and each nook to scan; And young Lovel cried, “Oh where dost thou hide, I'm lonesome without thee, my own dear bride."

They sought her that night, and they sought her next
 * day,

And they sought her in vain, when a week pass'd
 * away;

In the highest-the lowest—the loneliest spot, Young Lovel sought wildly, but found her not; And years flew by, and their grief at last, Was told as a sorrowful tale long past; And when Lovel appear'd, the children cried, "See, the old man weeps for his fairy bride."