BOBO DT) R WY: 
t¢ The blasts athwarte the hawthorn hiss, 
I may not harboure here ; 
My spurre is sharpe, my courser pawes, 
My houre of flighte is nere. 
‘© All as thou lyest upon thy couch, . 
Aryse, and mounte behinde ; 
To-night we’le ride a thousand miles, 
The bridal bed to finde.’’ 
*© How, ride to-night a thousand miiles > 
Thy love thou dost bemocke : 
Eleven is the stroke that still 
Rings on within the clocke.’’ 
** Look up ; the moon is bright, and we 
Outstride the earthlie men: 
T’ll take thee to the bridal bed, 
And night shall end but then.’? 
«s And where is, then; thy house and home ; 
And where thy bridal bed ?”’ 
‘* *Tis narrow, silent, chilly; dark ; 
Far hence I rest my head.’” 
‘© And is there any room for mee; 
Wherein that I may creepe ?”” 
«« There’s room enough for thee and mee; 
Wherein that we may sleepe. 
* All as thou ly’st upon thy couch, 
Aryse, no longer stop; 
The wedding guests thy coming waite, 
The chamber dore is ope.’’ 
All in her sarke, as there she lay; 
Upon his horse she sprung : 
And with her lily hands so pale, 
About her William clung: 
And hurry-skurry forth they go, 
Unheeding wet or dry ; 
And horse and rider snort and blow, 
And sparkling pebbles fly. 
How swift the flood, the mead, the wood, 
Aright, aleft, are gone! 
The bridges thunder as they pass, 
But earthlie sowne is none. 
Tramp, tramp, across the land they speede ; 
Splash, splash, across the see ; 
*€ Hurrah!”’ the dead can ride apace ; 
Dost feare to side with mee ?’’ 
Kkz 
[499 
Khe 
