The CHILD of ELLE

On yonder hill a castle standes, With walles and towres bedight; And yonder lives the Child of Elle, A younge and comely knighte.

The Child of Elle to his garden wente, And stood at his garden pale, Whan, lo, he beheld fair Emmeline's page Come tripping doune the dale.

The Child of Elle he hyed him thence, Y-wis he stoode not stille, And soone he mette faire Emmeline's page Come climbing up the hille.

Now Christe thee save thou little foot page, Now Christe thee save and see, Oh telle me how does thy ladye gaye, And what may thy tydinges be?

My lady she is all woe-begone, And the teares they fall from her eyne; And aye she laments the deadly feude Betweene her house and thine.

And here shee sends thee a silken scarfe, Bedewde with many a teare; And biddes thee sometimes think on her Who loved thee so deare.

And here shee sends thee a ring of gold, The last boon thou mayst have; And biddes thee weare it for her sake Whan she is laid in grave.

For ah! her gentle heart is broke, And in grave soone must shee bee, Sith her father hath chose her a new love, And forbidde her to think of thee.

Her father hath brought her a carlish knight, Sir John of the north countraye, And within three dayes she must him wedde, Or he vowes he will her slaye.

Now hye thee backe, thou little foot page, And greet thy ladye from mee. And telle her that I, her owne true love, Will dye or sette her free.

Now hye thee backe, thou little foot page, And let thy fair ladye know This night will I be at her bowre-windowe, Betide me weale or woe.

The boye he tripped, the boye he ranne, He neither stint na stayd, Untill he came to fair Emmeline's bowre, Whan kneeling downe he sayd;

O, ladye, I've been with thy own true love, And he greets thee well by mee; This night will he bee at thy bowre windowe, And die or sett thee free.

Now day was gone and night was come, And all were fast asleepe: All save the lady Emmeline, Who sate in her bowre to weepe.

And sune she heard her true love's voice, Lowe whispering at the walle; Awake, awake, my dear ladye, 'Tis I thy true love call.

Awake, awake my ladye deare, Come mount this fair palfraye; This ladder of ropes will lette thee downe, Ile carrye thee hence awaye.

Now naye, now naye, thou gentle knight, Now naye this may not bee; For aye should I tine my maiden fame, If alone I should wend with thee.

O ladye thou with a knight so true Mayst safelye wend alone, To my lady mother I will thee bring, Where marriage shall make us one.

"My father he is a baron bolde, "Of lynage proud and hye, "And what would he saye if his daughter "Awaye with a knight should fly?

"Ah well I wot he never would rest, "Nor his meate should do him no goode, "Till he had slayne thee, Child of Elle, "And seene thy deare heart's bloode."

O, lady, wert thou in thy saddle set, And a little space him fro, I would not care for thy cruel father, Nor the worst that he could doe.

O, lady, wert thou in thy saddle sette, And once without this walle, I would not care for thy cruel father, Nor the worst that might befalle.

Fair Emmeline sigh'd, fair Emmeline wept, And aye her heart was woe, At lengthe he seizde her lilly-white hand, And doune the ladder he drewe.

And thrice he claspde her to his breste, And kist her tenderlie; The tears that fell from her fair eyes Ranne like the fountayne free.

He mounted himselfe on his steede so talle, And her on a fair palfraye, And slung his bugle about his necke, And roundlye they rode awaye.

All this beheard her own damselle, In her bed whereas she lay, Quoth shee, My lord shall knowe of this So I shall have golde and fee.

Awake, awake, thou baron bold! Awake, my noble dame! Your daughter is fledde with the Child of Elle, To doe the deede of shame.

The baron he woke, the baron he rose, And callde his merry men all; "And come thou forth, Sir John the knighte, "The ladye is carried to thrall."

Fair Emmeline scant had ridden a mile, A mile forth of the towne, When she was aware of her father's men Come galloping over the downe.

And foremost came the carlish knight, Sir John of the north countraye, "Nowe stop, nowe stop, thou false traitour, "Nor carry that lady awaye.

"For she is come of hye lynage, "And was of a lady borne; "And ill it beseems thee a false churles's sonne, "To carry her hence to scorne."

Now loud thou lyest, Sir John the knight, Nowe thou doest lye of mee; A knight me gott, and a ladye me bore, Soe never did none by thee.

But light nowe doune, my lady faire, Light down and hold my steed, While I and this discourteous knighte Do try this arduous deede.

Fair Emmeline sighd, fair Emmeline weept, And aye her heart was woe; While twixt her love and the carlish knight, Past many a baleful blow.

The Child of Elle he fought soe well, As his weapon he wavde amaine, That soone he had slaine the carlish knight, And layd him upon the playne.

And now the baron and all his men Full fast approached nye, Ah what maye ladye Emmeline doe? 'Twere now no boote to flye.

Her lover he put his horn to his mouth, And blew both loud and shrill, And soone he sawe his owne merry men Come ryding over the hill.

Now hold thy hand thou bold baron, I pray thee hold thy hand; Nor ruthless rend two gentle hearts Fast knit in true love's band.

Thy daughter I have dearly lovde, Full long and many a day, But with such love as holy kirke Hath freelye said wee may.

O give consent she may be mine, And blesse a faithful paire; My lands and livings are not small, My house and lynage faire.

My mother she was an erle's daughter, And a noble knight my sire— The baron he frownde, and turn'd away, With mickle dole and ire.

Fair Emmeline sigh'd, fair Emmeline wept, And did all trembling stand; At lengthe she sprang upon her knee, And held his lifted hand.

Pardon, my lord and father deare, This faire yong knight and mee, Trust me, but for the carlish knight, I never had fled from thee.

Oft have you calld your Emmaline, Your darling and your joye; O let not then your harsh resolves Your Emmaline destroye.

The baron he stroakd his dark broun cheeke, And turnd his heade asyde, To wipe awaye the starting teare He proudly strave to hyde.

In deep revolving thought he stoode, And mus'd a little space; Then rais'd fair Emmeline from the grounde, With many a fond embrace.

Here take her, Child of Elle, he sayd; And gave her lillye hand: Here take my deare and only child, And with her half my land.

Thy father once mine honour wrong'd, In dayes of youthful pride, Do thou the injury repayre In fondness for thy bride.

And as thou love her, and hold her deare, Heaven prosper thee and thine; And now my blessing wend wi' thee My lovelye Emmeline.