---

• “O whither awaye, myne owne true love?
• O whither awaye sae soone?
• The rayne will splash thy 'broiderie
• And soak thy gilded shoone.”

• “I heed not the winde, and I heed not the haile,
• And I heed not the storme, Mary:
• Before an hour hath passed awaye
• In my owne halle mote I be.”

• “But the lightning will startle thy berrie-browne
• steed,
• 10And he will snort and shy;
• And long ere thou mayest reach thy halle
• On the cauld earth shalt thou lie.”

• “Thou knowest not my berrie-browne steed, Mary,
• Nor the dangers we have past;
• He would bear one free through the raging sea,
• Like an arrowe before the blast.

• But telle me true, myne onlie love,
• And truelie tell to me;
• And why dost thou praye that I thys daye
• 20In thy bower so long sho'd be.”

• She put her armes about his necke,
• And he felt her hearte beat highe;
• And she hid her face within his breaste
• As she spoke righte dolefullie.

• “O there is a knight of the north countrie;
• Sir Richard is his name;
• And long years syne, ere my mother died,
• A wooing to me he came:

• “And he standes below in the castle-halle,
• 30And his sworde is in his hande;
• And when you have passed the corridor
• He will slaye you where you stande.

• “Then staye with me, my dearest love,
• And hearken to my prayer;
• Or I'll not see thy face again,
• Nor hear thy voice nae mair.”

• Lord William turned him round about,
• And grasped his trustie brande;
• “And I'll not yield a foot,” quoth he,
• 40“While the hilte holds in my hande.”

• And she heard the trampling of hurried feete
• And the sound of men in strife;
• And she knelt her down on the stonie floore,
• And prayed for Willie's lyfe.

• At last there rose a loud, loud shriek,
• And it woke the echoes neare:
• The ladie started to her feete
• And quaked for verie feare:

• And she ran full quicklie down the staires,
• 50And she oped the iron doore;
• And she was aware of her lover's corpse
• Lay weltering in his gore.

• And o'er him stood that recreant knight,
• As he wiped his bloodie sword:
• The ladie threw her on her knees
• And kissed her fallen lord.

• “Assassin! on thy guiltie head
• May Heaven's vengeance falle;
• For thou hast slayne my dearest friende,
• 60My life — my soul — my all.

• O he was gentler than the lamb,
• And milder than the dove;
• God knows he was the onlie man
• That ever I did love.

• He took her up into his armes,
• 70And his lookes were blacke as deathe,
• And he dashed her down from the windowe highe
• To the moat which rolled beneath.

---

• The wind was moaning through the trees;
• It whistled and it sang;
• And the crash of heaven's artillery
• Though the echoing welkin rang.

• The lightning flashed across the waste
• With a wild and ghastly glare,
• And it mingled in its fitful gleams
• 80With the hot and sulphurous air:

• And it danced on high, and it skimmed along
• O'er the parched and blasted heath;
• And the flowers withered where it passed
• Beneath its fiery breath.

• Sir Richard dashed across the plain;
• His spurs were red with gore;
• And he thought that spectres followed him,
• Above — behind — before.

• He heard their wailings on the wind;
• 90Their shrieks upon the blast.
• What would he not have given to know
• That dreary heath was past?

• But brighter flashed the levin-glare,
• And deeper rolled the thunder;
• And shrubs were strewn along the ground,
• And oaks were riven asunder.

• And the lightning glanced on the murderer's face,
• And showed its livid hue,
• As faster o'er the lonesome waste
• 100In mortal fear he flew.

• And it glimmered on his crested helm,
• And dashed him from his horse,
• And stretched him writhing on the earth,
• A burnt and blackened corse.