“Oh, is this water deep?” he said, “As it is wondrous dun? Or is it sic as a saikless maid And a leal true Knight may swim?”
“The water it is deep,” she said, “As it is wondrous dun; But it is sic as a saikless maid And a leal true Knight may swim.”
The Knight spurred on his tall black steed; The Lady spurred on her brown; And fast they rade into the flood, And fast they baith swam down.
“The water weets my tae,” she said; “The water weets my knee; And hold up my bridle reins, Sir Knight, For the sake of Our Ladye.”
“If I would help thee now,” he said, “It were a deadly sin; For I’ve sworn neir to trust a fair may’s word, Till the water weets her chin.”
“Oh! the water weets my waist,” she said; “Sae does it weet my skin; And my aching heart rins round about, The burn maks sic a din.
“The water is waxing deeper still, Sae does it wax mair wide; And aye the farther that we ride on, Farther off is the other side.
“Oh, help me now, thou fause fause Knight! Have pity on my youth; For now the water jawes owre my head, And it gurgles in my mouth.”
The Knight turned right and round about, All in the middle stream; And he stretched out his head to that Ladie But loudly she did scream!
“Oh, this is Hallow-morn,” he said, “And it is your bridal day; But sad would be that gay wedding, If bridegroom and bride were away.
“And ride on, ride on, proud Margaret! Till the water comes o’er your bree; For the bride maun ride deep and deeper yet, Wha rides this ford wi’ me!
“Turn round, turn round, proud Margaret! Turn ye round, and look on me! Thou hast killed a true Knight under trust, And his Ghost now links on with thee.”
“Speak! speak! thou fearful guest! Who, with thy hollow breast Still in rude armour drest, Comest to daunt me! Wrapt not in Eastern balms, But with thy fleshless palms Stretched, as if asking alms, Why dost thou haunt me?”
Then, from those cavernous eyes Pale flashes seemed to rise, As when the Northern skies Gleam in December; And, like the water’s flow Under December’s snow, Came a dull voice of woe From the heart’s chamber.
“I was a Viking old! My deeds, though manifold, No Skald in song has told, No Saga taught thee! Take heed, that in thy verse Thou dost the tale rehearse, Else dread a dead man’s curse; For this I sought thee.