O'er James's heart, the courtiers say, 260 Sir Hugh the Heron's wife held sway: To Scotland's Court she came, To be a hostage for her lord, Who Cessford's gallant heart had gored, And with the King to make accord, 265 Had sent his lovely dame. Nor to that lady free alone Did the gay King allegiance own; For the fair Queen of France Sent him a turquois ring and glove, 270 And charged him, as her knight and love, For her to break a lance; And strike three strokes with Scottish brand, And march three miles on Southron land, And bid the banners of his band 275 In English breezes dance. And thus, for France's Queen he drest His manly limbs in mailed vest; And thus admitted English fair His inmost counsels still to share; 280 And thus, for both, he madly plann'd The ruin of himself and land! And yet, the sooth to tell, Nor England's fair, nor France's Queen, Were worth one pearl-drop, bright and sheen, 285 From Margaret's eyes that fell,-- His own Queen Margaret, who, in Lithgow's bower, All lonely sat, and wept the weary hour. XI. The Queen sits lone in Lithgow pile, And weeps the weary day, 290 The war against her native soil, Her monarch's risk in battle broil:-- And in gay Holy-Rood, the while, Dame Heron rises with a smile Upon the harp to play. 295 Fair was her rounded arm, as o'er The strings her fingers flew; And as she touch'd and tuned them all, Ever her bosom's rise and fall Was plainer given to view; 300 For, all for heat, was laid aside Her wimple, and her hood untied. And first she pitch'd her voice to sing, Then glanced her dark eye on the King, And then around the silent ring; 305 And laugh'd, and blush'd, and oft did say Her pretty oath, by Yea, and Nay, She could not, would not, durst not play! At length, upon the harp, with glee, Mingled with arch simplicity, 310 A soft, yet lively, air she rung, While thus the wily lady sung:-- XII. LOCHINVAR. Lady Heron's Song O, young Lochinvar is come out of the west, Through all the wide Border his steed was the best; And save his good broadsword, he weapons had none, 315 He rode all unarm'd, and he rode all alone. So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, There never was knight like the young Lochinvar. He staid not for brake, and he stopp'd not for stone, He swam the Eske river where ford there was none; 320 But ere he alighted at Netherby gate, The bride had consented, the gallant came late: For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war, Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar.