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28. • But if before I come again,

This passing month shall slide, Oh! then no more await for me, But be another's bride.

29. *For death may meet me on the way,

And from thy arms divide; Or dire misfortune blast my joy, And rob me of my

bride.'

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30. Oh! then fast flowed the maiden's tears,

While tenderly she cried : Oh! no, dear youth, though thou shouldst die, I'll be no other's bride!'

31.
The maiden's face with grief was sad,

Her cheek was wet with tears :
So the pale lily besprent * with rain

Or dew-dropped rose appears.

PART SECOND.

32.
And now for many weeks and months

The baron he did stay,
Nor did he seek his much-loved maid
For many a livelong day.

33.
And, though the tender sigh it cost,

And heartfelt tear did move,
Full many a month he stayed away,
Her constancy to prove.

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34. At length he calls his knights and squires,

And neighbours of high degree, To travel in all the pomp of state The lovely maid to see.

35. And he hath called his young foot-page,

And thus full loud did say, With costly gems, and with robes of state,

O deck me forth this day.'

36. And now, with gay and gallant train, That baron took his

way: The golden sun that so bright doth shine Did gild his pomp that day.

37. The maiden stood at her garden pale,

In hopes her love to espy ; And every peasant that she saw

She heaved a heartfelt sigh.

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38. “Alas ! and woe is me !' she cried, • Could I my

love but see ! I fear the stranger youth is dead,

Or thinks no more of me.'

39.
Thus sighed the maid, as o'er the plain

She looked for her true love;
When sudden she saw the gallant train

Towards her cottage move.

* Fence.

40. And soon the baron hath crossed the green,

And smilingly he cried : Sweet maid, I've heard thy beauty's fame, And thou shalt be

my

bride.

41. * Rich robes of state shall deck thy frame,

A coronet gild thy brow;
And a castle shalt thou have for dower,
With manors high and low.'

42.
The maiden but sighed at all his bribes,

Her faith they could not move; For little she thought this baron gay

Could be her own true love.

43.
Thus, though to gain the maiden's hand

This gallant baron strove,
Yet all his grandeur she despised,
For the youth that she did love.

44.
And, though her angry mother tried

Her constant heart to move,
As vain were her mother's cruel threats

As the baron's golden love.

PART THIRD.

45. Night was come on, and o'er the plain

The moon's pale glimmering shone, When the hapless maiden took her way,

All friendless and alone :

46. All helpless and alone she sped,

And sadly did she rove O'er

many a hill, and many a dale, In search of her peasant love.

47. And now the pale, full moon was gone,

And stormy clouds did lower; Her sighings added to the winds,

Her tears increased the shower.

48. And, though full loud the thunders rolled,

And heavily poured the rain, Yet still, in search of her dear-loved youth,

She braved the stormy plain.

49. Roused with the warring of the storm,

The baron up arose ; And soon,

in search of his beauteous maid, With anxious speed he goes.

50. But, lo! the hapless maid was gone

Through deserts wild to rove, Alas! all friendless and alone,

In search of her true love.

51.
Oh! then that baron grieved full sore,

And his foot-page called he:
Oh ! bring me here my peasant garb,

As quick as ye can flee.'

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52. Oh! then rode forth this young baron, O'er

many a dreary way ; When, alas ! all on the stormy plain

· He saw the maiden lay.

53.
O’ercome with toil, and spent with grief,

That hapless maiden fell :
The baron he wiped his quivering brow,

While his heart it ’gan to swell.

54. He got him water from the brook,

And sprinkled o'er the maid ; But many a tear that from him fell

Lent most its saving aid.

55. Right glad he marked her struggling breath,

And blush-reviving face;
He tenderly welcomed her to life,

With many a fond embrace.

56. And art thou found, my own true love?

And art thou come ?' she said, "Then blest be the night, and blest the hour,

When from our cot I fled.'

57.
Thus spake the maid, as fast they rode

Through many a lonely way;
And she thought that to his humble cot

Her love would her convey.

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