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THE LADT BARNARD. 19 |
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" Lye still, lye still, thou little Musgrave,
And huggell me from the cold ; Tis nothing but a shephards boy,
A driving his sheep to the fold.
" Is not thy hawke upon a perch ? b
Thy steed eats oats and hay, And thou [a] fair lady in thine armes,—
And wouldst thou bee away ? "
With that my lord Barnard came to the dore, And lit a stone upon ; 70
He plucked out three silver keys, And he open'd the dores each one.
He lifted up the coverlett,
He lifted up the sheet; " How now, how now, thou little Musgrave, n
Doest thou find my lady sweet ? "
" I find her sweet," quoth little Musgrave,
" The more 'tis to my paine ; I would gladly give three hundred pounds
That I were on yonder plaine." »•
" Arise, arise, thou littell Musgrave,
And put thy clothes on; It shal ne'er be said in my country,
I, have killed a naked man. |
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