And stakes to fence our cave.'And for vest of pall, thy fingers small, That wont on harp to stray, A cloak must shear from the slaughtered deer, To keep the cold away.''O Richard! if my brother died, 'Twas but a fatal chance; For darkling was the battle tried, And fortune sped the lance.'If pall and vair no more I wear, Nor thou the crimson sheen, As warm, we'll say, is the russet gray, As gay the forest-green.'And, Richard, if our lot be hard, And lost thy native land, Still Alice has her own Richard, And he his Alice Brand.'
XIII
BALLAD—(Continued)'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in good greenwood, So blithe Lady Alice is singing; On the beech's pride, and oak's brown side, Lord Richard's ax is ringing.Up spoke the moody Elfin King, Who wonned within the hill, Like wind in the porch of a ruined church, His voice was ghostly shrill.'Why sounds yon stroke on beech and oak, Our moonlight circle's screen? Or who comes here to chase the deer, Beloved of our Elfin Queen? Or who may dare on wold to wear The fairies' fatal green?'Up, Urgan, up! to yon mortal hie, For thou wert christened man; For cross or sign thou wilt not fly, For muttered word or ban.'Lay on him the curse of the withered heart, The curse of the sleepless eye; Till he wish and pray that his life would part, Nor yet find leave to die.'
XIV
BALLAD—(Continued)'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in good greenwood, Though the birds have stilled their singing; The evening blaze doth Alice raise, And Richard is fagots bringing.Up Urgan starts, that hideous dwarf, Before Lord Richard stands, And, as he crossed and blessed himself, 'I fear not sign,' quoth the grisly elf, 'That is made with bloody hands.'But out then spoke she, Alice Brand, That woman void of fear, 'And if there's blood upon his hand, 'Tis but the blood of deer.''Now loud thou liest, thou bold of mood! It cleaves unto his hand, The stain of thine own kindly blood, The blood of Ethert Brand.'
