I lock'd and barr'd my castle door, _The waves roll so gaily O_, Three summer days I grieved sore. _Love me true!_ For myself a day and night, _The waves roll so gaily O_, And two to moan that lady bright. _Love me true!_ ----Wm. Allingham. THE MAIDS OF ELFIN-MERE |When the spinning-room was here, Came Three Damsels, clothed in white, With their spindles every night; One and two and three fair Maidens, Spinning to a pulsing cadence, Singing songs of Elfin-Mere, Till the eleventh hour was toll'd, Then departed through the wold. _Years ago, and years ago; And the tall reeds sigh as the wind doth blow_. Three white Lilies, calm and clear, And they were loved by every one; Most of all, the Pastor's Son, Listening to their gentle singing, Felt his heart go from him, clinging To these Maids of Elfin-Mere; Sued each night to make them stay, Sadden'd when they went away. _Years ago, and years ago; And the tall reeds sigh as the wind doth blow_. Hands that shook with love and fear Dared put back the village clock,-- Flew the spindle, turn'd the rock, Flow'd the song with subtle rounding, Till the false "eleven" was sounding; Then these Maids of Elfin-Mere Swiftly, softly left the room, Like three doves on snowy plume. _Years ago, and years ago; And the tall reeds sigh as the wind doth blow_. One that night who wander'd near Heard lamentings by the shore, Saw at dawn three stains of gore In the waters fade and dwindle. Nevermore with song and spindle Saw we Maids of Elfin-Mere. The Pastor's Son did pine and die; Because true love should never lie. _Years ago, and years ago; And the tall reeds sigh as the wind doth blow_. ----Wm. Allingham. THE FAITHLESS KNIGHT |It is a careless pretty may, down by yon river- side; Her face, the whole world's pleasure, she gladly hath espied; And tossing back her golden hair, her singing echoes wide; When gaily to the grassy shore a youthful knight doth ride. And vaulting from his courser, that stoops the head to drink, And greeting well this Maiden fair, by running waters brink, He throws about her slender neck a chain of costly link: Too courteous he for glamourie, as any may might think. All through the flowery meadows, in the summer evening warm, The rippling river murmurs low, the dancing midges swarm; But far away the pretty may, nor makes the least alarm, Sits firm on lofty saddle-bow, within the young knight's arm. Now months are come, and months are gone, with sunshine, breeze, and rain; The song on grassy river-shore you shall not hear again; The proud knight spurs at tournament, in Germany or Spain, Or sues in silken bow'r to melt some lady's high disdain. And thus in idle hour he dreams--"I've