Then giving many a fond embrace,
And shedding many a teare,
To the weird lady of the woods,
He purpos'd to repaire.

To the weird lady of the woods,
Full long and many a day,
Thro' lonely shades and thickets rough
He winds his weary way.

At length he reach'd a dreary dell
With dismal yews o'erhung;

Where cypress spred its mournful boughs,
And poisonous nightshade sprung.

No chearful gleams here pierc'd the gloom,
He heard no chearful sound;

But shrill night-ravens' yelling scream,
And serpents hissing round.

The shriek of fiends and damned ghosts
Ran howling thro' his ear;

A chilling horror froze his heart,
Tho' all unus'd to fear.

Three times he strives to win his way,
And pierce those sickly dews:
Three times to bear his trembling corse
His knocking knees refuse.

At length upon his beating breast
He signs the holy crosse;
And, rouzing up his wonted might,
He treads th' unhallow'd mosse.

Beneath a pendant craggy cliff,
All vaulted like a grave,
And opening in the solid rock,

He found the inchanted cave.

An iron gate clos'd up the mouth,
All hideous and forlorne;
And, fasten'd by a silver chain,
Near hung a brazed horne.

Their offering up a secret prayer,

Three times he blowes amaine :

Three times a deep and hollow sound

"Sir Knight, thy lady beares a son,
Who, like a dragon bright,
Shall prove most dreadful to his foes,
And terrible in fight.

His name advanc'd in future times
On banners shall be worn:
But lo! thy lady's life must passe
Before he can be born."

All sore opprest with fear and doubt
Long time lord Albret stood;
At length he winds his doubtful
Back thro' the dreary wood.

Eager to clasp his lovely dame
Then fast he travels back:

way

But when he reach'd his castle gate,
His gate was hung with black.

In every court and hall he found
A sullen silence reigne;
Save where, amid the lonely towers,
He heard her maidens' plaine;

And bitterly lament and weep,
With many a grievous grone:
Then sore his bleeding heart misgave,
His lady's life was gone.

With faultering step he enters in,

Yet half afraid to goe;

With trembling voice asks why they grieve, Yet fears the cause to knowe.

"Three times the sun hath rose and set ;"

They said, then stopt to weep:

"Since heaven hath laid thy lady deare In death's eternal sleep.

"For, ah! in travel sore she fell,

So sore that she must dye;

Unless some shrewd and cunning leech
Could ease her presentlye.

But when a cunning leeche was fet,

Too soon declared he,

She, or her babe must lose its life;
Both saved could not be.

Now take my life, thy lady said,
My little infant save:

And O commend me to my lord,
When I am laid in grave.

O tell him how that precious babe
Cost him a tender wife;
And teach my son to lisp her name,
Who died to save his life.

Then calling still upon thy name,
And praying still for thee;
Without repining or complain,
Her gentle soul did flee."

What tongue can paint lord Albret's woe,

The bitter tears he shed,

The bitter pangs that wrung

To find his lady dead?

his heart,

He beat his breast: he tore his hair;
And shedding many a tear,
At length he askt to see his son ;
The son that cost so dear.

New sorrowe seiz'd the damsells all:
At length they faultering say;
"Alas! my lord, how shall we tell?
Thy son is stoln away.

Fair as the sweetest flower of spring,
Such was his infant mien:

And on his little body stampt

Three wondrous marks were seen:

A blood-red cross was on his arm;
A dragon on his breast;

A little garter all of gold

Was round his leg exprest.

Three carefull nurses we provide

Our little lord to keep :

One gave him sucke, one gave him food

And one did lull to sleep.

But lo! all in the dead of night,

We heard a fearful sound:

Loud thunder clapt; the castle shook;

Dead with affright at first we lay;
But rousing up anon,
We ran to see our little lord:
Our little lord was gone!

But how or where we could not tell;
For lying on the ground,
In deep and magic slumbers laid,
The nurses there we found.

O grief on grief! lord Albret said:
No more his tongue cou'd say,
When falling in a deadly swoone,
Long time he lifeless lay.

At length restor'd to life and sense
He nourisht endless woe,

No future joy his heart could taste,
No future comfort know.

So withers on the mountain top
A fair and stately oake,
Whose vigorous arms are borne away
By some rude thunder-stroke.

At length the castle irksome grew,
He loathes his wonted home;

His native country he forsakes,
In foreign lands to roame.

There up and downe he wandered far, Clad in a palmer's gown:

Till his brown locks grew white as wool, His beard as thistle down.

At length, all wearied, down in death
He laid his reverend head.
Meantime amid the lonely wilds
His little son was bred.

There the weird lady of the woods

Had borne him far away,

And train'd him up in feates of armes,

O HEARD ye o' Sir James the Rose,
The young heir o' Buleighan?
For he has killed a gallant squire,

And his friends are out to take him.

Now he's gone to the house of Marr,
Where the Nourice was his leman;
To seek his dear he did repair,

Thinking she would befriend him.

"Where are ye going, Sir James?' she says; 'Or where now are you riding?' 'Oh, I am bound to a foreign land, For now I'm under hiding.

Where shall I go, where shall I run,
Where shall I go to hide me?
For I have kill'd a gallant squire,
And they're seeking to slay me.'

'O go ye down to yon ale-house
And I'll there pay your lawin';
And if I be a maiden true,

I'll meet you in the dawin'.'

'I'll no go down to yon ale-house
For you to pay my lawin';
There's forty shillings for one supper,
I'll stay in't till the dawin'.'

He turned him richt and round about,
And rowed him in his brechan;
And he has gone to tak' a sleep,
In the lowlands o' Buleighan.

He had not weel gone out o' sight,
Nor was he past Milstrethen,
Till four-and-twenty belted knights