Page:The Poetical Works of William Motherwell, 1849.djvu/145



They found him pillowed on the dead, Heigho! the Wind and Rain; The blood-soaked sod his bridal bed, Ah, well-a-day! the Slain.

On his pale brow, and paler cheek, Heigho! the Wind and Rain; The white moonshine did fall so meek— Ah, well-a-day! sad strain.

They lifted up the True and Brave, Heigho! the Wind and Rain; And bore him to his lone cold grave, Ah, well-a-day! in pain.

They buried him on that far strand, Heigho! the Wind and Rain; His face turned towards his love's own land, Ah, well-a-day! how vain.

The wearied heart was laid at rest, Heigho! the Wind and Rain; To dream of her it liked best, Ah, well-a-day! again.