ANNAN WATER "6 ANNAN Water's wading deep, And my Love Annie's wondrous bonny; And I am laith she should wet her feet, Because I love her best of ony." He's loupen on his bonny gray, He rade the right gate and the ready; And he has ridden o'er field and fell, Through moor, and moss, and many a mire; His spurs of steel were sair to bide, And from her four feet flew the fire. "My bonny gray, now play your part! If ye be the steed that wins my dearie, With corn and hay ye'll be fed for aye, And never spur shall make you wearie.” The gray was a mare, and a right gude mare; "O boatman, boatman, put off your boat, Put off your boat for golden money!" But for all the gold in fair Scotland, He dared not take him through to Annie. "Oh, I was sworn so late yestreen, The side was stey, and the bottom deep, For she heard the water-kelpy roaring. The Lament of the Border Widow 1037 He spurred her forth into the flood, I wot she swam both strong and steady; But the stream was broad, and her strength did fail, And he never saw his bonny lady! Unknown THE LAMENT OF THE BORDER WIDOW My love he built me a bonnie bower, And clad it a' wi' lily flower; A brawer bower ye ne'er did see, There came a man, by middle day, He slew my knight, to me sae dear; I sewed his sheet, making my mane; I took his body on my back, I digged a grave, and laid him in, But think na ye my heart was sair, Nae living man I'll love again, Unknown ASPATIA'S SONG From "The Maid's Tragedy " LAY a garland on my hearse Maidens, willow branches bear; My love was false, but I was firm From my hour of birth. Upon my buried body lie Lightly, gentle earth! John Fletcher [1579-1625] A BALLAD From the "What-d'ye-call-it " "TWAS when the seas were roaring With hollow blasts of wind, A damsel lay deploring, All on a rock reclined. Wide o'er the foaming billows Her head was crowned with willows, "Twelve months are gone and over, Cease, cease thou cruel ocean, To that within my breast? "The merchant robbed of pleasure, Sees tempests in despair; But what's the loss of treasure, To losing of my dear? All melancholy lying, Thus wailed she for her dear; His floating corpse she spied, Then, like a lily drooping, She bowed her head, and died. 1039 John Gay [1685-1732] THE BRAES OF YARROW THY braes were bonnie, Yarrow stream, Thou art to me a stream of sorrow; Behold my love, the flower of Yarrow. He promised me a milk-white steed, To squire me to his father's towers; He promised me a wedding-ring,— The wedding-day was fixed to-morrow; Now he is wedded to his grave, Alas! his watery grave, in Yarrow. Sweet were his words when last we met: That I should never more behold him! And gave a doleful groan through Yarrow. His mother from the window looked, With all the longing of a mother; His little sister weeping walked The greenwood path to meet her brother. They sought him east, they sought him west, They sought him all the forest thorough; They only saw the cloud of night, They only heard the roar of Yarrow! No longer from thy window look, Thou hast no son, thou tender mother! No longer walk, thou little maid; Alas! thou hast no more a brother. No longer seek him east or west, And search no more the forest thorough; The tear shall never leave my cheek, No other youth shall be my marrow: I'll seek thy body in the stream, And then with thee I'll sleep in Yarrow. The tear did never leave her cheek, No other youth became her marrow; She found his body in the stream, John Logan [1748-1788] |