Chapter XLII: Part II

But long ere seven years had an end,
She longd full sore her love to see;
For ever a voice within her breast
Said, “Beichan has broke his vow to thee.”
So she’s set her foot on good ship-board,
And turnd her back on her own countrie.

She sailed east, she sailed west,
Till to fair England’s shore she came;
Where a bonny shepherd she espied,
Feeding his sheep upon the plain.

“What news, what news, thou bonny shepherd?
What news hast thou to tell to me?”
“Such news I hear, ladie,” he says,
“The like was never in this countrie.

“There is a wedding in yonder hall,
Has lasted these thirty days and three;
Young Beichan will not wed his bride,
For love of one that’s yond the sea.”

She’s put her hand in her pocket,
Gi’en him the gold and white monie;
“Hae, take ye that, my bonny boy,
For the good news thou tell’st to me.”

When she came to young Beichan’s gate,
She tirled softly at the pin;
So ready was the proud porter
To open and let this lady in.

“Is this young Beichan’s hall,” she said,
“Or is that noble lord within?”
“Yea, he’s in the hall among them all,
And this is the day o’ his weddin.”

“And has he wed anither love?
And has he clean forgotten me?”
And sighin’ said that gay ladie,
“I wish I were in my own countrie!”

And she has taen her gay gold ring,
That with her love she break so free;
Says, “Gie him that, ye proud porter,
And bid the bridegroom speak to me.”

When the porter came his lord before,
He kneeled down low on his knee:
“What aileth thee, my proud porter,
Thou art so full of courtesie?”

“I’ve been porter at your gates,
It’s thirty long years now and three;
But there stands a lady at them now,
The like o’ her did I never see;

“For on every finger she has a ring,
And on her mid-finger she has three,
And as meickle gold aboon her brow
As would buy an earldom to me.”

Its out then spak the bride’s mother,
Aye, and an angry woman was shee;
“Ye might have excepted our bonny bride,
And twa or three of our companie.”

“O hold your tongue, thou bride’s mother,
Of all your folly let me be;
She’s ten times fairer nor the bride,
And all that’s in your companie.

“She begs one sheave of your white bread,
But and a cup of your red wine;
And to remember the lady’s love,
That last reliev’d you out of pine.”

“O well-a-day!” said Beichan then,
“That I so soon have married thee;
For it can be none but Susie Pye,
That sailed the sea for love of me.”

And quickly hied he down the stair;
Of fifteen steps he made but three;
He’s taen his bonny love in his arms,
And kist and kist her tenderlie.

“O hae ye taen anither bride?
And hae ye quite forgotten me?
And hae ye quite forgotten her,
That gave you life and libertie?”

She looked o’er her left shoulder,
To hide the tears stood in her e’e:
“Now fare thee well, young Beichan,” she says,
“I’ll try to think no more on thee.”

“O never, never, Susie Pye,
For surely this can never be;
Nor ever shall I wed but her
That’s done and dree’d so much for me.”

Then out and spak the forenoon bride,
“My lord, your love it changeth soon;
This morning I was made your bride,
And another chose ere it be noon.”

“O hold thy tongue, thou forenoon bride,
My true love, thou canst never be;
And whan ye return to your own countrie,
A double dower I’ll send with thee.”

He’s taen Susie Pye by the white hand,
And gently led her up and down;
And ay as he kist her red rosy lips,
“Ye’re welcome, jewel, to your own.”

He’s taen her by the milk-white hand,
And led her to yon fountain stane;
He’s changed her name from Susie Pye,
And he’s call’d her his bonny love, Lady Jane.

(_Condensed_)

THE CHILD OF ELLE