The Oxford Book of Ballads - online book

A Selection Of The Best English Lyric Ballads Chosen & Edited by Arthur Quiller-Couch

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' Then ffarewell hart, and farewell hand, And ffarwell all good companye !
That woman shall never beare a sonne Shall know soe much of your privitye.'—
xxxvi ' Now hold thy tongue, ladye,' he sayde,
' And make not all this dole for me, For I may well drinke, but I'st never eate,
Till ance againe in Lough Leven I bee.'
xxxvir He tooke his boate at the Lough Leven,
For to sayle now over the sea, And he hath cast up a silver wand,
Says, ' Fare thou well, my good ladye ! " The ladye looked owre her left sholder ;
In a dead swoone there down fell she.
' Goe backe againe, Douglas! ' he sayd, ' And I will goe in thy companye ;
For sudden sicknesse yonder lady has tane, And ever, alas, she will but dye!
' If ought come to yonder ladye but good, Then blamed sore that I shall bee,
Because a banish'd man I am,
And driven out of my owne countrye.'—
' Come on, come on, my lord,' he sayes, ' And all such talking let a-bee ;
There 's ladyes enow left in Lough Leven For to cheere yonder gay ladye.'
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