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THE ASSIGNATION 

 A BALLAD. 



WITH hound and horn, and huntsman's call, 



They chase the fallow deer ; 

 And thou, the noblest of them all, 



Why dost thou loiter here ? 



Thou canst not deem within her bower 



Thine own true love to see : 

 Dost thou not know at matin hour 



I ne'er can come to thoe ? 



My sister's voice is on the stair, 



All in her maiden glee ; 

 My mother's flitting every where, 



And calling still on me. 



My father's by the southern wall, 



Pruning the old vine-tree ; 

 My brother's playing in the hal!, 



And all are wanting me. 



Then off, and mount thy gallant steed, 



To hunt the fallow deer ; 

 Off, off! and join the chase with speed, 



Nor loiter longer here. 



At eventide my mother sits, 



Her knitting on her knee ; 

 And wakes by starts, and dreams by fits, 



But never dreams of me. 



At eventide my sister fair 



Steals to the great oak tree ; 

 I may not tell who meets her there, 



But nought want they of me. 



At eventide beside the bowl, 



With some old comrade free, 

 My father many a song doth troll, 



But never thinks of me. 



Off, then, with hound and echoing horn, 



To chase the fallow deer ! 

 Nor deem again, at peep of morn, 



To meet thy true love here ! 



