Читать книгу Story-Telling Ballads. Selected and Arranged for Story-Telling and Reading Aloud and for the Boys' and Girls' Own Reading онлайн

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And bless me, Mother, ere I go.”

She clad herself in a russet gown,

She was no longer Lady Clare;

She went by dale, and she went by down,

With a single rose in her hair.

The lily-white doe Lord Ronald had brought

Leapt up from where she lay,

Dropt her head in the maiden’s hand,

And followed her all the way.

Down stept Lord Ronald from his tower:

“O Lady Clare, you shame your worth!

Why come you drest like a village maid,

That are the flower of the earth?”

“If I come drest like a village maid,

I am but as my fortunes are;

I am a beggar born,” she said,

“And not the Lady Clare.”

“Play me no tricks,” said Lord Ronald,

“For I am yours in word and in deed.

Play me no tricks,” said Lord Ronald,

“Your riddle is hard to read.”

Oh, and proudly stood she up!

Her heart within her did not fail;

She looked into Lord Ronald’s eyes,

And told him all her nurse’s tale.

He laughed a laugh of merry scorn;

He turned, and kissed her where she stood;

“If you are not the heiress born,

And I,” said he, “the next in blood,—