She’s bid her maiden bower goodbye, and down the stair she’s stole,
And tiptoe passed the revelers stretched around their empty bowl; 
And hushed her father’s watch hounds fierce, and turned the postern key,
And leapt the moat to her lover’s arms, O blessed liberty!

Now Lady Sibyl, will you ride to my castle far away,
A haughty keep that crowns the steep by Dingle’s lovely bay?
Her blushes warm his beating heart, as thus she answers clear,
“Through shine and snow, through weal and woe, I’ll follow you, my dear!”

He springs upon his chafing steed with all a lover’s pride;
One sudden stoop, and to the croup he lifts his blooming bride.
Away, away,” the blood hounds bay, the loud alarm is spread,
“Now race and chase – by rise of sun your lady shall be wed.”