O young Lonchivar is come out of the west,
Through all the wide Border his steed was the best;
And save his good broadsword the weapons had none,
He rode all unarm'd, and he rode all alone.
So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war,
There never was a knight like the young Lonchivar.
He staid not for brake, and he stopp'd not for stone,
He swarm the Eske river where ford there was none;
But ere he aligthed at Netherby gate,
The bride had consented, the gallant came late;
For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war,
Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lonchivar.
So boldly he enter'd the Netherby Hall,
Among bride's-men, and kinsmen, and brothers and all:
Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword,
(For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word,)
"O come ye in peace here, or come ye in war,
Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochivar?"
"I long woo'd yor daughter, my suit you denied;-
Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide-
And now I am come, with this lost love of mine,
To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine,
There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far,
That would gladly be bride to the young Linchivar."
The bride kiss'd the goblet; the knight took it up,
He quaff'd off the wine, and he threw down the cup,
She look'd down to blush, and she look'd up to sigh,
With a smile on her lips and a tear in her eye,
He took her soft hand, ere her mother couls bar,-
"Now tread we a measure! said young Lonchivar,