Here you will find the Long Poem Mary's Tryst of poet Isabella Valancy Crawford
Young Mary stole along the vale, To keep her tryst with Ulnor's lord; A warrior clad in coat of mail Stood darkling by the brawling ford. 'O let me pass; O let me pass, Dark falls the night on hill and lea; Flies, flies the bright day swift and fast, From lordly bower and greenwood tree. The small birds twitter as they fly To dewy bough and leaf-hid nest; Dark fold the black clouds on the sky, And maiden terrors throng my breast!' 'And thou shalt pass, thou bonnie maid, If thou wilt only tell to me-- Why hiest thou forth in lonesome shade; Where may thy wish'd-for bourne be?' 'O let me by, O let me by, My granddam dwells by Ulnor's shore; She strains for me her failing eye-- Beside her lowly ivied door.' 'I rode by Ulnor's shore at dawn, I saw no ancient dame and cot; I saw but startl'd doe and fawn-- Thy bourne thou yet hast told me not.' 'O let me pass--my father lies Long-stretch'd in coffin and in shroud,-- Where Ulnor's turrets climb the skies, Where Ulnor's battlements are proud!' 'I rode by Ulnor's walls at noon; I heard no bell for passing sprite; And saw no henchman straik'd for tomb; Thou hast not told thy bourne aright.' 'O let me pass--a monk doth dwell In lowly hut by Ulnor's shrine; I seek the holy friar's cell, That he may shrive this soul of mine.' 'I rode by Ulnor's shrine this day, I saw no hut--no friar's cowl; I heard no holy hermit pray-- I heard but hooting of the owl!' 'O let me pass--time flies apace-- And since thou wilt not let me be; I tryst with chief of Ulnor's race, Beneath the spreading hawthorn tree!' 'I rode beside the bonnie thorn, When this day's sun was sinking low; I saw a damsel like the morn, I saw a knight with hound and bow; The chief was chief of Ulnor's name, The maid was of a high degree; I saw him kiss the lovely dame, I saw him bend the suitor's knee! 'I saw the fond glance of his eye To her red cheek red roses bring; Between them, as my steed flew by, I saw them break a golden ring.' 'O wouldst thou know, thou curious knight, Where Mary's bourne to-night will be? Since thou has seen such traitor sight, Beneath the blooming hawthorn tree.' Fair shone the yellow of her locks, Her cheek and bosom's drifted snow; She leap'd adown the sharp grey rocks, She sought the sullen pool below. The knight his iron vizard rais'd, He caught young Mary to his heart; She lifted up her head and gaz'd-- She drew her yellow locks apart. * * * * * The roses touch'd her lovely face; The lilies white did faint and flee; The knight was chief of Ulnor's race,-- His only true love still was she!