"It shall never be said," quoth the forester then,
"That the song of a red deer reaver
Could charm the bow that my grandsire bent
On the banks of Guadalquiver."
And a shaft he laid, as he spoke, to the string,
When the outlaw's song came falling
As sweet on his ear, as the wind when it comes
Through the fragrant woodlands calling.
There each man stood, with his good bow bent,
And his shaft plucked from the quiver:
While thus then sung that gallant outlaw,
Till rung both rock and river:
"Oh! bonny Chatsworth, and fair Chatsworth,
Thy bucks go merrily bounding;
Aneath your green oaks, as the herds flew past,
How oft have my shafts been sounding!
"It is sweet to meet with the one we love,
When the night is nigh the hoarest;
It is sweet to bend the bow as she bids,
On the proud prey of the forest.
"One fair dame loves the cittern's sound,
When the words of love are winging;
But my fair one's music's the outlaw's horn,
And his bow-string sharply singing.
"She waves her hand—her little white hand,
'Tis a spell to each who sees her;
One glance of her eye—and I snatch my bow,
And let fly my shafts to please her.
"I bring the lark from the morning cloud,
When its song is at the sweetest;
I stay the deer upon Chatsworth lea,
When its flight is at the fleetest.
"There's magic in the wave of her hand,
And her dark eye rains those glances,
Which fill the best and the wisest hearts
With love's sweet influences.
"Her locks are brown—blight berry brown,
O'er her temples white descending;
And her neck is like the neck of the swan,
As her way through heaven she's wending.
"How I have won my way to her heart
Is past all men's discernin';
For she is lofty, and I am low,
My lovely Julia Vernon."
He turned him right and round about,
With a step both long and lordly;
When he was aware of those foresters bold,
And he bore him wondrous proudly.
