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Lord Beichan and Susie Pye

Lord Beichan was a noble lord,

A noble lord of high degree;
But he was ta'en by a savage Moor,
Who treated him right cruellie.

In ilka shoulder was put a bore,
In ilka bore was put a tree;

And heavy loads they made him draw,
Till he was sick, and like to dee.

Then he was cast in a dungeon deep,

Where he cou'd neither hear nor see;
And seven long years they kept him there,
Both cold and hunger sore to dree.

The Moor he had an only daughter,
The damsel's name was Susie Pye;
And ilka day as she took the air,

Lord Beichan's prison she pass'd by.

Young Susie Pye had a tender heart,
Tho' she was come of a cruel kin;
And sore she sigh'd, she knew not why,
For him who lay that dungeon in.

"Oh, were I but the prison keeper,
As I'm a lady of high degree,
I soon wou'd set this youth at large,
And send him to his own countrie."

Tales

of the Olden

Time

Tales of the Olden Time

She gave the keeper a piece of gold,
And many pieces of white monie,
To unlock to her the prison doors,
That she Lord Beichan might go see.

Lord Beichan he did marvel sore,

The Moor's fair daughter there to see; But took her for some captive maid, Brought from some land in Christendie.

For when she saw his wretched plight,
Her tears fell fast and bitterlie;
And thus the Moor's fair daughter spake
Unto Lord Beichan tenderlie:

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Oh, have ye any lands," she said,
"Or castles in your own countrie,
That ye cou'd give to a lady fair,
From prison strong to set you free?"

"Oh, I have lands both fair and braid,
And I have castles fair to see;

But I wou'd give them all," he said,
"From prison strong to be set free."

"Plight me the truth of your right hand,
The truth of it here plight to me,
That till seven years are past and gone,
No lady ye will wed but me."

"For seven long years I do make a vow, And seven long years I'll keep it true,

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Then she has bribed the prison-keeper,
With store of gold and white monie,
To loose the chain that bound him so,
And set Lord Beichan once more free.

A ring she from her finger broke,

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And half of it to him gave she,—
Keep it, to mind you of the maid
Who out of prison set you free."

She had him put on good shipboard,

That he might safely cross the main; Then said, "Adieu! my Christian lord, I fear we ne'er may meet again."

Lord Beichan turn'd him round about,
And lowly, lowly bent his knee;
"Ere seven years are come and gone,
I'll take you to my own countrie."

But Susie Pye cou'd get no rest,

Nor day nor night cou'd happy be; For something whisper'd in her breast, "Lord Beichan will prove false to thee."

Tales

of the

Olden

Time

Tales of the Olden Time

So she set foot on good shipboard,
Well mann'd and fitted gallantlie;
She bade adieu to her father's towers,
And left behind her own countrie.

Then she sailed west, and she sailed north,
She sailed far o'er the salt sea faem;
And after many weary days,

Unto fair England's shore she came.

Then she went to Lord Beichan's gate,
And she tirl'd gently at the pin,
And ask'd-" Is this Lord Beichan's hall,
And is that noble lord within?"

The porter ready answer made,—
"Oh yes, this is Lord Beichan's hall;
And he is also here within,

With bride and guests assembled all."

"And has he betroth'd another love,
And has he quite forgotten me,
To whom he plighted his love and troth,
When from prison I did him free?

"Bear to your lord, ye proud porter,
This parted ring, the plighted token
Of mutual love, and mutual vows,
By him, alas! now falsely broken.

"And bid him send one bit of bread,

And bid him send one cup of wine, Unto the maid he hath betray'd,

Tho' she freed him from cruel pine."

The porter hasten'd to his lord,

And fell down on his bended knee: "My lord, a lady stands at your gate, The fairest lady I e'er did see.

"On every finger she has a ring,
And on her middle finger three;
With as much gold above her brow
As wou'd buy an earldom to me."

It's out then spake the bride's mother,
Both loud and angry out spake she,-
"Ye might have excepted our bonnie bride,
If not more of this companie."

"My dame, your daughter's fair enough, Her beauty's not denied by me;

But were she ten times fairer still,

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With this lady ne'er compare cou'd she,.

"My lord, she asks one bit of bread,

And bids you send one cup of wine; And to remember the lady's love,

Who freed you out of cruel pine.'

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Tales

of the

Olden

Time

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