Volume II Part 5 (1/2)
”Thy lord would rather his house were brent, His goods and his cattle harried, Than the cup should be broken,--that cup of grace, Or from Muncaster's house be carried.”
The kinsman smiled on that fond lady, And his traitor suit he plied: ”Give me the cup,” the false knight said, ”From these foemen fierce to hide.”
The lady of Muncaster oped the box Where lay this wondrous thing; Sir William saw its beauteous form, All bright and glistering.
The kinsman smiled on that fond lady, And he viewed it o'er and o'er.
”'Tis a jewel of price,” said that traitor then, ”And worthy a prince's dower.
”We'll bury the treasure where ne'er from the sun One ray of gladness shone, Where darkness and light, and day and night, And summer and spring are one:
”Beneath the moat we'll bury it straight, In its box of the good oak-tree; And the cankered carle, John Highlandman, Shall never that jewel see.”
The kinsman took the casket up, And the lady looked over the wall: ”If thou break that cup of grace, beware, The pride of our house shall fall!”
The kinsman smiled as he looked above, And to the lady cried, ”I'll show thee where thy luck shall be, And the lord of Muncaster's pride.”
The lady watched this kinsman false, And he lifted the casket high: ”Oh! look not so, Sir William,”
And bitterly she did cry.
But the traitor knight dashed the casket down To the ground, that blessed token; ”Lie there,” then said that false one now, ”Proud Muncaster's charm is broken!”
The lady shrieked, the lady wailed, While the false knight fled amain: But never durst Muncaster's lord, I trow, Ope that blessed shrine again!
PART THIRD.
The knight of Muncaster went to woo, And he rode with the whirlwind's speed, For the lady was coy, and the lover was proud, And he hotly spurred his steed.
He stayed not for bog, he stayed not for briar, Nor stayed he for flood or fell; Nor ever he slackened his courser's rein, Till he stood by the Lowthers' well.
Beside that well was a castle fair, In that castle a fair lady; In that lady's breast was a heart of stone, Nor might it softened be.
”Now smooth that brow of scorn, fair maid, And to my suit give ear; There's never a dame in c.u.mberland, Such a look of scorn doth wear.”
”Haste, haste thee back,” the lady cried, ”For a doomed man art thou; I wed not the heir of Muncaster, Thy '_Luck_' is broken now!”
”Oh say not so, for on my sire Th' unerring doom was spent; I heir not his ill-luck, I trow, Nor with his dool am shent.”
”The doom is thine, as thou art his, And to his curse, the heir; But never a luckless babe of mine That fearful curse shall bear!”
A moody man was the lover then; But homeward as he hied, Beside the well at Lord Lowther's gate, An ugly dwarf he spied.
”Out of my sight, thou fearsome thing; Out of my sight, I say: Or I will fling thine ugly bones To the crows this blessed day.”
But the elfin dwarf he skipped and ran Beside the lover's steed, And ever as Muncaster's lord spurred on, The dwarf held equal speed.
The lover he slackened his pace again, And to the goblin cried: ”What ho, Sir Page, what luckless chance Hath buckled thee to my side?”
Up spake then first that shrivelled thing, And he shook his locks of grey: ”Why lowers the cloud on Muncaster's brow, And the foam tracks his troubled way?”