106. THE FORSAKEN BRIDE. O waly waly up the bank, And waly waly down the brae, And waly waly yon burn-side Where I and my Love wont to gae! I leant my back unto an aik, I thought it was a trusty tree; O waly waly, but love be bonny And Now Arthur-seat sall be my bed; 'Tis not the frost, that freezes fell, Nor blawing snaw's inclemencie ; 'Tis not sic cauld that makes me cry, But my Love's heart grown cauld to me, When we came in by Glasgow town We were a comely sight to see ; My Love was clad in the black velvét, But had I wist, before I kist, That love had been sae ill to win; I had lockt my heart in a case of gowd And, O! if my young babe were born, And I mysell were dead and gane, ANON. 107. FAIR HELEN. I wish I were where Helen lies; Curst be the heart that thought the thought, O think na but my heart was sair As I went down the water-side, I lighted down my sword to draw, For her sake that died for me. O Helen fair, beyond compare ! O that I were where Helen lies! O Helen fair! O Helen chaste! I wish my grave were growing green, On fair Kirconnell lea. I wish I were where Helen lies: Since my Love died for me. ANON. 108. THE TWA CORBIES. As I was walking all alane I heard twa corbies making a mane; The tane unto the t'other say, "Where sall we gang and dine to-day?" "In behint yon auld fail dyke, I wot there lies a new-slain Knight; And naebody kens that he lies there, But his hawk, his hound, and lady fair. "His hound is to the hunting gane, His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame, His lady's ta'en another mate, So we may mak our dinner sweet. "Ye'll sit on his white hause-bane, 66 Mony a one for him makes mane, ANON. 109. TO BLOSSOMS. Fair pledges of a fruitful tree, Your date is not so past, What, were ye born to be An hour or half's delight, And so to bid good-night? But you are lovely leaves, where we Into the grave. R. HERRICK. 110. TO DAFFODILS. Fair Daffodils, we weep to see As yet the early-rising Sun Until the hasting day But to the even-song; And, having pray'd together, we We have short time to stay, as you, As quick a growth to meet decay As your hours do, and dry Like to the Summer's rain; Or as the pearls of morning's dew Ne'er to be found again. R. HERRICK. III. THOUGHTS IN A GARDEN. How vainly men themselves amaze |