18
The second night the moon shone clear,
And gilt the spangled dew;
He saw his lady through the grate,
But ’twas a transient view.
The third night, wearied out, he slept
Till near the morning tide;
When, starting up, he seiz’d his sword
And to the castle hied.
When, lo! he saw a ladder of ropes
Depending from the wall;
And o’er the moat was newly laid
A poplar strong and tall.
And soon he saw his love descend,
Wrapt in a tartan plaid;
Assisted by a sturdy youth
In Highland garb yclad.
Amaz’d, confounded at the sight,
He lay unseen and still;
And soon he saw them cross the stream,
And mount the neighbouring hill.
Unheard, unknown to all within,
The youthful couple fly,
But what can ’scape the lover’s ken,
Or shun his piercing eye?
With silent step he follows close
Behind the flying pair,
And saw her hang upon his arm
With fond familiar air.
Thanks, gentle youth, she often said,
My thanks thou well hast won;
For me what wiles hast thou contriv’d!
For me what dangers run!
And ever shall my grateful heart
Thy services repay:—
Sir Bertram would no further hear,
But cried, “Vile traitor, stay!”
“Vile traitor, yield that lady up!”
And quick his sword he drew;
The stranger turn’d in sudden rage,
And at Sir Bertram flew.
With mortal hate their vigorous arms
Gave many a vengeful blow;
But Bertram’s stronger hand prevail'd,
And laid the stranger low.
