And he hath crossed the Tees' fair stream,
Now swelled with human blood;
The' affrighted page he never staid,
Till to Dumfries he had rode.

Fair Alice was gone to the holy Kirk,
With a sad heart did she go;
And ever so fast she cried to Heaven,-
"Prince Henry save from woe!"

Fair Alice she hied her to the choir,
Where the priest did chant so slow;
And ever she cried,-" May the holy Saints
Prince Henry save from woe!"

Fair Alice she knelt by the hallowed Rood,
While fast her tears did flow;

And ever she cried,-" Oh! sweet Saviour,
Prince Henry save from woe!"

Fair Alice looked out at the kirk-door,
And heavy her heart did beat;
For she was aware of the Prince's page
Galloping down the street.

Again fair Alice looked out to see,

And well nigh she did swoon;
For now she was sure it was that page,

Came galloping through the town.

"Now, Christ thee save! thou sweet young page; Now Christ thee save and see!

And how doth sweet Prince Henry,

I

pray thee tell to me?"

The page he looked at the fair Alice,

And his heart was full of woe; The page he looked at the fair Alice,

Till his tears began to flow.

331

"Ah, woe is me!" sad Alice cried,

And tore her golden hair;

And so fast she wrung her lily hands,
All woed with sad despair.

The English keep the bloody field,
Full many a Scot is slain "-

"But, lives Prince Henry?" that lady cried, "All else to me is vain !–

"Oh! lives the Prince? I pray thee tell!" Fair Alice still did call;

"These eyes did see a keen arrow flee,
Did see Prince Henry-fall!"

Fair Alice she sat her on the ground,
And never a word she spake ;
But like the pale image did she look,
For her heart was nigh to break.

The rose that once so tinged her cheek,
Was now, alas! no more:
But the whiteness of her lily skin,
It was fairer than before!

"Fair lady, rise!" the page exclaimed,
"Nor lay thee here thus low."
She answered not; but heaved a sigh,
That spake her heartfelt woe!

Her maidens came, and strove to cheer,
But in vain was all their care;
The Townsfolk wept to see that lady
O'erwhelmed with despair.

They raised her from the danky ground,

And sprinkled water fair:

But the coldest water from the spring
Was not so cold as her.

And now came horsemen from the town,
That the Prince had sent with speed;
With tidings to Alice that he did live,
To ease her of her dread.

For, when the hapless Prince did fall,
The arrow did not him slay;
But his followers did bravely rescue him,
And conveyed him safe away,-

Bravely they rescued that noble Prince,
And to fair Carlisle him bore;
And there that brave young Prince did live,
Though wounded, sad, and sore.

Fair Alice the wond'rous tidings heard,
And thrice, for joy, she sighed ;
That hapless fair, when she heard the news,
She rose-she smiled and died!

The tears that her fair maidens shed,
Ran free from their bright eyes;
The echoing wind that then did blow,
Was burdened with their sighs.

The page he saw the lovely Alice
In a deep grave let down,
And at her head a green turf laid,

And at her feet a stone!

Then, with many a tear and many a sigh,

Hath he hied him on his way;

And he hath come to Carlisle town,

All clad in black array.

And now he hath come to the Prince's hall,

And lowly bent his knee,

"And how is the lady Alice so fair?

My page, come and tell to me."

Oh! the lady Alice so lovely fair,
Alas! is dead and gone!

And at her head is a green-grass turf,
And at her heels a stone.

"The lady Alice is dead and gone,
She sleeps on the Kirk-hill side;
And all for love of thee, O Prince!
That beauteous lady died.

"And where she 's laid the green turf grows, And a cold grave-stone is there,

But the dew-clad turf, nor the cold, cold stone, Is not so cold as her."

Oh! then Prince Henry sad did sigh,

His heart all full of woe:

That hapless Prince he beat his breast,
And his tears began to flow.

"And art thou gone, iny sweet Alice!
And art thou gone? (he cried):
Ah! would to Heaven that I with thee,
My faithful love, had died.

“And have I lost thee, my sweet Alice!
And art thou dead and gone?

And at thy dear head a green grass turf,

And at thy feet a stone!

"The turf that's o'er thy grave, dear Alice!

Shall with my tears be wet;

And the stone at thy feet shall melt, love!

E'er I will thee forget."

And when the news came to merry England,

Of the battle in the North;

O then King Stephen and his nobles

So merrily marched forth:

And they have had justs and tournaments,
And have feasted o'er and o'er,

And merrily, merrily have they rejoiced,

For the victory of Cuton-Moor.

But many a sigh adds to the wind,
And many a tear to the shower,
And many a bleeding heart hath broke,
For the battle of Cuton-Moor!

And many 's the widow all forlorn,
And helpless orphan poor,
And many 's the maiden that shall rue
The victory of Cuton-Moor.

The Lady Alice is laid full low,

And her maidens' tears do pour;

And many 's the wretch with them shall weep,
For the victory of Cuton-Moor.

The holy priest doth weep, as he sings

His masses o'er and o'er;

And all for the souls of them that were slain,

At the battle of Cuton-Moor!

EVANS.