"Here's Keith of Westholm riding fast, Sister Helen, For I know the white plume on the blast." "The hour, the sweet hour I forecast, Little brother!" (_O Mother, Mary Mother_, _Is the hour sweet, between Hell and Heaven?_) "He stops to speak, and he stills his horse, Sister Helen, But his words are drowned in the wind's course." "Nay hear, nay hear, you must hear perforce, Little brother!" (_O Mother, Mary Mother_, _What word now heard, between Hell and Heaven?_) "Oh, he says that Keith of Ewern's cry, Sister Helen, Is ever to see you ere he die." "In all that his soul sees, there am I, Little brother!" (_O Mother, Mary Mother_, _The soul's one sight, between Hell and Heaven!_) "He sends a ring and a broken coin, Sister Helen, And bids you mind the banks of Boyne." "What else he broke will he ever join, Little brother?" (_O Mother, Mary Mother_, _No, never joined, between Hell and Heaven!_) It was a custom, and in some parts of England still is a custom, for lovers not only to give each other rings, but also to divide something between them--such as a coin or a ring, for pledge and remembrance. Sometimes a ring would be cut in two, and each person would keep one-half. Sometimes a thin coin, gold or silver money, was broken into halves and each of the lovers would wear one-half round the neck fastened to a string. Such pledges would be always recognised, and were only to be sent back in time of terrible danger--in a matter of life and death. There are many references to this custom in the old ballads. "He yields you these, and craves full fain, Sister Helen, You pardon him in his mortal pain." "What else he took will he give again, Little brother?" (_O Mother, Mary Mother_, _Not twice to give, between Hell and Heaven!_) "He calls your name in an agony, Sister Helen, That even dead Love must weep to see." "Hate, born of Love, is blind as he, Little brother!" (_O Mother, Mary Mother_, _Love turned to hate, between Hell and Heaven!_) "Oh it's Keith of Keith now that rides fast, Sister Helen, For I know the white hair on the blast." "The short, short hour will soon be past, Little brother!" (_O Mother, Mary Mother_, _Will soon be past, between Hell and Heaven!_) "He looks at me and he tries to speak, Sister Helen, But oh! his voice is sad and weak!" "What here should the mighty Baron seek, Little brother?" (_O Mother, Mary Mother_, _Is this the end, between Hell and Heaven?_)