Nor a craven flight I flee;

   But I am come to my lady's bower,

    Sir William of Liddislee."

   The knight to the lady's bower is gone:

    "A boon I crave from thee,

   Deny me not, thou lady bright,"

    And he bent him on his knee.

   "I grant thee a boon," the lady said,

    "If it from my husband be;"

   "There's a cup of grace," cried the suppliant knight,

    "Which thou must give to me."

   "Now foul befa' thee, fause traitor,

    That with guile would our treasure win;

   For ne'er from Sir John of Pennington

    Had such traitrous message been."

   "I crave your guerdon, fair lady,

    'Twas but your faith to try,

   That we might know if the 'Luck' of this house

    Were safe in such custody.

   "The message was thus, thy husband sent;

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