Kirkpatrick of Closeburn

22
KIRKPATRICK
He starts, and almost shrieks to see
His Margaret so nigh,
But finger on her lip is laid,
And warning's in her eye.
No word they spoke — the chain's unlocked,
Up with a bound he springs,
And freedom to his pallid brow
The rushing life-blood brings.
The loathsome passage now is cleared,
The stars are glittering bright,
And to his parching lip is brought
The fresh cool breeze of night.
Down in yon dell the page awaits
"With a courser fleet and sure,
' Tis but to mount and ply the spur
His freedom to secure.
" Now, dearest Margaret, fly with me,
Now fly with me, I pray,
A victim to thy sire's revenge
Here must thou never stay.
" Turn not away, nor wring my hand,
From hence I will not stir,
If Margaret cannot fly with me
I must not part from her.
" Put up your steed, Sir page, and now
Return we, whence we came ;
Oh Margaret, could'st thou think that I
Dread dying more than shame."