LORD WILLIAM.
SONG XXXVI.
1
His chesnut maned courser Lord William has left,
Down among the yellow topp'd broom;
His golden belt doff'd, and his broad battle blade,
With his bright basnet and plume.
On Linclouden Abbey the setting sun sank,
As he walk'd through the arbours of green;
A white-footed damsel he found 'mongst the flow'rs,
But, a fountain them murmur'd between.
2
Dark cluster'd that fair maiden's locks o'er her neck,
Blanch'd pure as the fountain-lav'd swan;
Like the evening star woke on the green mountain top,
All lovely she shone on the lawn.
Unadorn'd was her loveliness, save where the dew
New fallen 'mongst her temple locks hung;
All heedless she saunter'd, then rooted she stood,
Like a flow'r in a wilderness sprung.
3
“Oh give me one kiss, and those lillie-white feet
Will I lace up in silver-soled shoon;
Thy forehead and neck shall thy raven locks grace,
With a golden roof'd chariot aboon.
For far have I wander'd o'er ocean and plain,
By city, and fountain, and tree;
But, so beauteous a lass, on this green-bosom'd earth,
Mine eyes never gladden'd to see.”
4
Red-rosie she colour'd, and turn'd her about,
Her tears came fast dropping as dew;
By the sweep of her arm, and her white bounding foot,
His own dearest damsel he knew.
Over flow'r bank and fountain, Lord William he sprang,
His arms round his true-love to lay;—
And the birds in the morning melodious awoke,
Ere the kind maiden wish'd him away.
