So that around the Moril Glen Our brave young men did lie, With limbs as lydder and as lithe As duddis hung out to dry.
And aye the tears ran down in streams O’er cheeks right woe-begone; And aye they gasped, and they gratte, And thus made piteous moan:--
“Alack! that I had ever been born, Or dandelit on the knee; Or rockit in ane cradle bed, Beneath a mother’s e’e!
“For love is like the fiery flame That quivers through the rain, And love is like the pang of death That splits the heart in twain.
“If I had loved earthly thing Of earthly blithesomeness, I might have been beloved again, And bathed in earthly bliss.
“But I have loved ane freakish Fay Of frowardness and sin, With heavenly beauty on the face, And heart of stone within!”
But word’s gone East, and word’s gone West, ’Mong high and low degree, While it went to the King upon the throne, And ane wrathful man was he.
“What!” said the King, “and shall we sit In sackcloth mourning sad, While all mine lieges of the land For ane young quean run mad?
“Go, saddle me my milk-white steed, Of true Megaira brode; I will go and see this wondrous dame, And prove her by the Rode.
“And if I find her Elfin Queen, Or thing of Fairy kind, I will burn her into ashes small, And sift them on the wind.”
The King hath chosen four-score Knights, All busked gallantlye, And he is away to the Moril Glen, As fast as he can dree.
And when he came to the Moril Glen, Ae morning fair and clear, This lovely May on horseback rode To hunt the fallow deer.
Her palfrey was of snowy hue, A pale unearthly thing, That revelled over hill and dale Like bird upon the wing.
Her screen was like a net of gold, That dazzled as it flew; Her mantle was of the rainbow’s red, Her rail of its bonny blue.
A golden comb with diamonds bright, Her seemly virgin crown, Shone like the new moon’s lady-light O’er cloud of amber brown.
The lightning that shot from her eyne, Flickered like Elfin brand; It was sharper nor the sharpest spear In all Northumberland.
The King he wheeled him round about, And calleth to his men, “Yonder she comes, this wierdly Witch, This spirit of the glen!
“Come, rank your master up behind, This serpent to belay; I’ll let you hear me put her down, In grand polemic way.”