7
Sudden a band of rugged Scots,
That near in ambush lay,
Moss-troopers from the border side,
There seiz’d me for their prey.
My shrieks had long been spent in vain,
But Heaven, that saw my grief,
Brought this brave youth within my call,
Who flew to my relief.
With nothing but his hunting-spear,
And dagger in his hand,
He sprung like lightning on my foes,
And caus’d them soon to stand.
He fought till more assistance came;
The Scots were overthrown;
Thus freed me captive from their bands
To make me more his own.
O happy day! the youth replied:
Bless’d were the wounds I bare!
From that fond hour she deign’d to smile,
And listen to my prayer.
And when she knew my name and birth
She vow’d to be my bride;
But oh! we fear’d (alas! the while)
Her princely mother’s pride:
Sister of haughty Bolingbroke, (3)
Our house’s ancient foe,
To me I thought a banish’d wight
Could ne’er such favour show.
Despairing then to gain consent
At length to fly with me,
I won this lovely timorous maid,
To Scotland bound are we.
This evening, as the night drew on,
Fearing we were pursued,
We turn’d adown the right hand path.
And gain’d this lonely wood;
Then lighting from our weary steeds
To shun the pelting shower.
We met thy kind conducting hand,
And reach’d this friendly bower.
Now rest ye both, the hermit said;
Awhile your cares forego:
Nor, lady, scorn my humble bed,
—We’ll pass the night below. (4)
