Nowe daye was gone, and night was come, And all were fast asleepe, All save the Ladye Emmeline, Who sate in her bowre to weepe: And soone shee heard her true loves voice Lowe whispering at the walle, Awake, awake, my deare ladyè, Tis I thy true love call. Awake, awake, my ladye deare, Come, mount this faire palfràye: This ladder of ropes will lette thee downe He carrye thee hence awaye. Nowe nay, nowe nay, thou gentle knight, Nowe nay, this may not bee; For aye shold I tint my maiden fame, If alone I should wend with thee. O ladye, thou with a knighte so true Mayst safelye wend alone, To my ladye mother I will thee bringe, Where marriage shall make us one. "My father he is a baron bolde, Of lynage proude and hye; And what would he saye if his daughtèr Awaye with a knight should fly "Ah! well I wot, he never would rest, Nor his meate should doe him no goode, Until he hath slayne thee, Child of Elle, And scene thy deare hearts bloode." O ladye, wert thou in thy saddle sette, And a little space him fro, I would not care for thy cruel fathèr, Nor the worst that he could doe. O ladye, wert thou in thy saddle sette, And once without this walle, I would not care for thy cruel fathèr Nor the worst that might befalle. Faire Emmeline sighed, fair Emmeline wept, And aye her heart was woe: At length he seized her lilly-white hand, And downe the ladder he drewe: And thrice he clasped her to his breste, And kist her tenderlìe: The teares that fell from her fair eyes Ranne like the fountayne free. Hee mounted himselfe on his steede so talle, And her on a fair palfràye, And slung his bugle about his necke, And roundlye they rode awaye. All this beheard her owne damsèlle, In her bed whereas shee ley, Quoth shee, My lord shall knowe of this, Soe I shall have golde and fee. Awake, awake, thou baron bolde! Awake, my noble dame! Your daughter is fledde with the Child of Elle To doe the deede of shame. The baron he woke, the baron he rose, And called his merrye men all: "And come thou forth, Sir John the knighte, Thy ladye is carried to thrall." Faire Emmeline scant had ridden a mile, A mile forth of the towne, When she was aware of her fathers men Come galloping over the downe: And foremost came the carlish knight, Sir John of the north countràye: "Nowe stop, nowe stop, thou false traitòure, Nor carry that ladye awaye. "For she is come of hye lineàge, And was of a ladye borne, And ill it beseems thee, a false churl's sonne, To carrye her hence to scorne." Nowe loud thou lyest, Sir John the knight, Nowe thou doest lye of mee; A knight mee gott, and a ladye me bore, Soe never did none by thee