"I'll give thee the law of Lord Nithisdale, A good lord of the border; So take thy bow, thou gallant Outlaw, "And we will go each one to his stance, And thou shalt climb up Chatsworth bank, “And thou shalt stand on yon rough red rock, "Then loose thy shafts, and slay a buck, And carry him free from Chatsworth park, "Do this and live, and I do vow By the white hand of my mother, I'll smite him low who runs ere thou shout, The Outlaw smiled; "Good Gordon," he said, "I'll shout both high and gaily; And smite a buck, and carry him off; 'Tis the work I'm bowne to daily." The Outlaw stood upon Chatsworth rock, The Outlaw stood upon Chatsworth rock, Sprung up from stream and fountain. The Outlaw stood upon Chatsworth rock, Till the dun deer leap'd from brake and bower, The Outlaw stood upon Chatsworth rock, And his voice flew fleet as away from the string And loudly it rung in Haddon-wood, "If ever I heard my true love's voice, "For well I know my true love's voice, She took her green robe in a hand And the morning sun and the lovely maid Around the brow of the high green hill The silver smoke from Chatsworth tower She gave one look on the broad green land, With her snowy neck, and her bonnie blue eyes, She saw the wild dove start from its bower, And then she saw her own true love "Oh! had I but my bow, my love, And seven good arrows by me, I'd make the fiercest of thy foes Bleed ere they could come nigh thee. "Oh! had I but thy sword, my love, On high she held her white, white hands, And locks and lips, and lith and limb, "Nay, stay the chase," said a forester then, The hound may hide:-May the raven catch "Farewell, my bow, that could send a shaft, A lady looks down from Haddon height "A lady looks down from Haddon height, The bank was steep,-down the Outlaw sprung, The greenwood wide resounded; The wall was high,-like a hunted hart O'er it he fleetly bounded. And when he saw his love, he sunk "How sweet is Haddon hill to me, My love excels the morning star, "She and the sun, and all that's sweet, Smile when the grass is hoarest; And here at her white feet I lay The proud buck of the forest. "Now farewell, Chatsworth's woodlands green, Where fallow-deer are dernan; For dearer than the world to me Is my love, Julia Vernon!" CUNNINGHAM. Beware. I KNOW a maiden fair to see, She can both false and friendly be, Beware! Beware! Trust her not, She is fooling thee! She has two eyes, so soft and brown, Take care! She gives a side-glance and looks down, Beware! Beware! Trust her not, She is fooling thee! And she has hair of a golden hue, Take care! And what she says, it is not true, Beware! Beware! Trust her not, She is fooling thee! |