peace here, or come ye in war,
     Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar?'

    "'I long woo'd your daughter, my suit you denied;
     Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide—
     And now am I 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 Lochinvar.'

    "The bride kiss'd the goblet: the knight took it up,
     He quaff'd off the wine, and threw down the cup,
     She look'd down to blush, and she look'd up to sigh,
     With a smile on her lip, and a tear in her eye,
     He took her soft hand, ere her mother could bar,—
     'Now tread we a measure!' said young Lochinvar.

    "So stately his form, and so lovely her face,
     That never a hall such a galliard did grace;
     While her mother did fret, and her father did fume,
     And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume;
     And the bride's-maidens whisper'd, ''Twere better by far
     To have match'd our fair cousin with young Lochinvar.'

    "One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear,
     When they reach'd the hall door, and the charger stood near;
     So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung,
     So light to the saddle before her he sprung!
     'She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur;
     They'll have fleet steeds that follow,' quoth young Lochinvar.

    "There was mounting 'mong Graemes of the Netherby clan;
     Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran;
     There was racing and chasing on Cannobie Lee,
     But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see.
     So daring in love, and so dauntless in war,
     Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar?"

The monarch hung over the wily singer, and beat the measure as she sang. He pressed closer, and whispered praises in her ear. The courtiers broke in applause, the ladies whispered, and looked wise. The witching dame, not satisfied to win a King, threw her glances at Lord Marmion. The glances were significant, familiar, and told of confidences long and old between the English lord and his countrywoman, guests of a Scotch King, on the eve of a great conflict between the two countries.