Page:Once a Week Jul - Dec 1859.pdf/121

110 His beard and hair were white as snow; Like lighted brands his eyes did glow.

I see—I see a maiden here, That I have sought this many a year.

My bonny May, wilt come with me, One after one my treasures to see;

From room to room to see my store, And count my gold and silver o’er?”

Oh, better I’d bruik with my minnie to be, Counting faggots with her, than gold with thee.”

Come down to the cellar, ladye mine, To drink with me of the honey-sweet wine.”

Sooner I’d stoop to the croft-pool brink, Where my father’s horses go to drink.”

Come with me from shop to shop, my fair, To buy a mantle of state so rare.”

Oh, better I’d bruik a sackcloth shift, An ’twere my mother’s make and gift.”

Ye’ll come with me to the wardrobe straight, For a trimming to trim your robe of state.”

Better I’d bruik the white lace plain, That my sister made me, my own Elaine.”

May mine—May mine—if your words be true, It’s little love I shall have of you!

I would that blister’d had been my tongue, Ere my fool’s head ran on a leman young—

Ere my fool’s hand wasted the good red gold, For a maiden that will not be consoled.”

Dear little birds, I pray you fair, To hear my words, high up in air;

You go to my village, and you are glad, I may not go, and I am sad.

The friends that are in my own countrie, When you shall see them greet from me,—

Oh! greet the good mother that me bare, And the sire that rear’d me with love and care,—

Oh! greet from me my mother true: The old priest that baptised me too;—

Oh, bid them all farewell from me, And give my brother my pardon free.”

Two months or three had pass’d away, All warm abed the household lay,—

All warm abed, and sleeping light Upon the middle of the night.

No sound without, no sound within, When a gentle voice at the door came in:

My father, my mother, for God’s dear sake, Due prayer for me the priest gar make.

And pray you, too, and mourning wear, For your daughter lies upon her bier.”