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THE PAGE.* 



Oh ! vvha is the bairn that sits on the caulJ stane, 

 Sae bonnic but greetin' sac sair and alane ? 

 'Tis the laddie wha whiles was sae winsome an' gay, 

 'Tis the Page o' the gude Lord o' braw Fontenaye. 



" Why greet ye sae sairly, puir laddie ? I ween 

 The tear is nae weel in thy bonnie bright een ;— 

 To wander o'er hielan' and lowlan' to-day, 

 Why left ye the castle o' guid Fontenaye ? 



" Ye whiles used to lauch and in bower an' ha' 

 Ye bare a' the fair leddies' favour awa', 

 An' nane was thine equal at ballad or lay 

 Amang a' the spruce laddies o' gran' Fontenaye.'* 



" Nae mair shall I lauch, an' nae mair shall I sing. 

 For my Lord's gane to fecht for his country and king; 

 An' in bower an' ha' it '11 a' gang a-gley 

 Till returns to his castle the Lord Fontenaye. 



" O ! sair do we miss the loud win' o' his horn 

 O'er the mountain and brae at the grey o' the morn. 

 An' his hounds a' unheeded, untended shall stray, 

 Until order returns wi' the young Fontenaye. 



" The stag shall lie safe in his green mountain hame, 

 An' shall drink unmolested in bruik and in stream. 

 Then fareweel to the huntin', fareweel to the lay, 

 Until frae the battle returns Fontenaye. 



•' But sair is the chance, an' O if he should dee, 

 The tear-drop for aye maun be wet in my ee ; 

 But the Lord in yon heaven the arrow shall stay 

 That is aimed at the heart o* the Knight Fontenaye. 



" But tell me, fair Sir, for ye come frae the fight. 

 An' a' bluidie's thy claymore, thy dirk is nae bright, 

 An' thy bonnet is featherless, O in the fray, 

 Didst thou fecht in defence o' my luve Fontenaye ?" 



*' Why say'st thou * my luve,' laddie ? thou art nae page, 

 But thou art his ladye-love I daur engage ; 

 Then weel may ye greet, leddie, for by my faye, 

 Nae mair shall ye look upon live Fontenaye. 



" Leddie Clara, I sought thee, an' at his comman' 

 This packet to gie to thine ain lily han' ; 

 He bid me go seek thee — nae mair could he say, 

 For cauld came the heart o' the fair Fontenaye." 



Now cauld blaws the night-win', and sair fa's the rain ; 

 But puir Clara she heeds na' ; it gies her nae pain— 

 For 'neath that cauld stane for fu' mony a day 

 Hath the leddie-page lain o' the Lord Fontenaye. 



GODFREY GRAFTON. 



* This ballad owes its origin to the following incident. The writer travelling in the 

 Highlands a year or two ago, was much struck with the appearance of a large roagh stone, 

 on which were rudely carved some letters, nearly obliterated by age. On inquiry, his 

 guide told him that the peasants had a tradition that under that stone was buried a lady 

 who had set out disguised as a page to follow her betrothed, a knight, to the wars ; but 

 sitting on that stone to rest herself, she was met by a messenger from her lover, who, upon 

 recognising her, gave into her hands a packet entrusted to him by the dying knight on the 

 field of battle. The poor lady never recovered the shock, but died a few days afterwards in 

 the neighbourhood, and was buried under the stone on which she sat when the fatal news 

 was brought to her. The writer found any attempt to get a date, or any more minute 

 account from his guide, futile. 



