OK.. Here's what I managed to get.. Though I stand to be corrected

Legend of Roseberry.

The Harvest Moon was waining,
all 'round the rich domain,
The silver Stars shone sweetly on,
the rock and the wooden plain,
When from a stately Palace,
Northubrian Princess drove,
To question that famed Auger,
who in Arncliffe did abode.

Oh,wise and dreadful Wizard,
thy Godlike gift is thine,
What speaks the heavenly Prophet,
of Northumberlands Prince and mine,
The 'morrow shall thy darling,
in deaths embraces lay,
So speaks the heavenly prophet,
tis midnight now away.

Back to her stately Palace,
with cavalcade she rode,
Tonight at least my darling,
I'll trust thee to thy God,
Oh,Motherby and Ingleby,?
Swainsberry and Stokesberry Town,?
Much marvelled greatly wonders,
to view that doubt come down.

Below that oak tree forest,
A buzz and a bird who trill,
The proud Procession halted,
the cavelcade stood still,
With toilsome weary marching,
she reached the towering hieght,
Rejoyce thy Fief from danger,
she bore her Cherub bright.


And then,O lovely vision,
lay streched beneath her feet,
The groves of sweet Opliedium,
the shores of the cargo fleet.
Yet,wouldn't that Lady shudder,
to view the boundless Sea,
Even silver Tees brought terror,
so lovely though it be.

And know like marble Statue,
in Holy sleep she lies,
And by her like an Angel,
the Royal Orphan lies,
But then O lovely vision,
beneath that that mountain brow,
A fountain fair enchanting,
with heavens own colours true.

Within that crystal mirror,
He views a lovely form,
With equal love enticing him,
into its watery home,
O fate,O dread he clasps it,
?????????
Prince Ossie is no more.

And on that rocky precipice,
beneath that wooden Knoll,
A Hermitage the Lady reared,
with Mass's for his Soul,
And with that Holy Hermit,
full oft devoutly prays,
What god has given God takes away,
and vindicates his ways.

As Aye,

Phil