Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1900.djvu/443

 Clerk Saunders he started, and Margaret she turn'd Into his arms as asleep she lay; And sad and silent was the night That was atween thir twae.

And they lay still and sleepit sound Until the day began to daw'; And kindly she to him did say, 'It is time, true love, you were awa'.'

But he lay still, and sleepit sound, Albeit the sun began to sheen; She look'd atween her and the wa', And dull and drowsie were his e'en.

Then in and came her father dear; Said, 'Let a' your mourning be; I'll carry the dead corse to the clay, And I'll come back and comfort thee.'

'Comfort weel your seven sons, For comforted I will never be: I ween 'twas neither knave nor loon Was in the bower last night wi' me.'

The clinking bell gaed through the town, To carry the dead corse to the clay; And Clerk Saunders stood at may Margaret's window, I wot, an hour before the day.

'Are ye sleeping, Marg'ret?' he says, 'Or are ye waking presentlie? Give me my faith and troth again, I wot, true love, I gied to thee.'