Part 35

Nevir ane word that ladie spak; (Mim be maydens men besyde.) But that stout steid did nicher and schaik; (Small thingis humbil hertis of pryde.)

About his breist scho plet her handis; (Luvand be maydens quhan thai lyke.) Bot they were cauld as yron bandis. (The winter bauld bindis sheuch and syke.)

Your handis ar cauld, fayr ladie, sayd hee, (The caulder hand the trewer hairt.) I trembil als the leif on the tree; (Licht caussis muve ald friendis to pairt.)

Lap your mantil owir your heid, (My luve was clad in the red scarlett,) And spredd your kirtil owir my stede; (Thair nevir was joie that had nae lett.)

The ladie scho wald nocht dispute; (Nocht woman is scho that laikis ane tung.) But caulder her fingeris about him cruik. (Some sangis ar writt, bot nevir sung.)

This Elfinland wud will neir haif end; (Hunt quha listis, daylicht for mee.) I wuld I culd ane strang bow bend, (Al undirneth the grene wood tree.)

Thai rade up, and they rade doun (Wearilie wearis wan nicht away.) Erl William's heart mair cauld is grown; (Hey, luve mine, quhan dawis the day?)

Your hand lies cauld on my breist-bane, (Smal hand hes my ladie fair,) My horss he can nocht stand his lane, (For cauldness of this midnicht air.)

Erl William turnit his heid about; (The braid mune schinis in lift richt cleir.) Twa Elfin een are glentin owt, (My luvis een like twa sternis appere.)

Twa brennand eyne, sua bricht and full, (Bonnilie blinkis my ladeis ee,) Flang fire flaughtis fra ane peelit skull; (Sum sichts ar ugsomlyk to see.)

Twa rawis of quhyt teeth then did say, (Cauld the boysteous windis sal blaw,) Oh, lang and weary is our way, (And donkir yet the dew maun fa'.)

Far owir mure, and far owir fell, (Hark the sounding huntsmen thrang;) Thorow dingle, and thorow dell, (Luve, come, list the merlis sang.)

Thorow fire, and thorow flude, (Mudy mindis rage lyk a sea;) Thorow slauchtir, thorow blude, (A seamless shrowd weird schaipis for me!)

And to rede aricht my spell, Eerilie sal night wyndis moan, Quhill fleand Hevin and raikand Hell, Ghaist with ghaist maun wandir on.

CASABIANCA.

The boy stood on the burning deck Whence all but he had fled; The flame that lit the battle's wreck Shone round him o'er the dead.

Yet beautiful and bright he stood, As born to rule the storm-- A creature of heroic blood, A proud, though child-like form.

The flames rolled on--he would not go Without his father's word; That father, faint in death below, His voice no longer heard.

He called aloud, "Say, father! say If yet my task is done!" He knew not that the chieftain lay Unconscious of his son.

"Speak, father!" once again he cried, "If I may yet be gone!" And but the booming shots replied, And fast the flames rolled on.

Upon his brow he felt their breath, And in his waving hair, And looked from that lone post of death In still yet brave despair;

And shouted but once more aloud, "My father! must I stay?" While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud, The wreathing fires made way.

They wrapt the ship in splendour wild, They caught the flag on high, And streamed above the gallant child Like banners in the sky.

There came a burst of thunder-sound-- The boy--oh! where was he? Ask of the winds that far around With fragments strewed the sea,--

With mast, and helm, and pennon fair, That well had borne their part:-- But the noblest thing which perished there Was that young faithful heart.

AULD ROBIN GRAY.

FIRST PART.

When the sheep are in the fauld, when the kye's a' at hame, And a' the weary warld to rest are gane, The woes o' my heart fa' in showers frae my e'e, Unkent by my gudeman, wha sleeps sound by me.