'What will ye say to your father dear When ye gae hame at e'en?' 'I'll say ye're lying at yon kirk style, Where the grass grows fair and green.' 40 'O no, O no, my brother dear, O you must not say so: But say that I'm gane to a foreign land, 45 When he sat in his father's chair He grew baith pale and wan. 'O what blude's that upon your brow? O dear son, tell to me.' 50 'It is the blude o' my gude gray steed, He wadna ride wi' me.' 'O thy steed's blude was ne'er sae red, Nor e'er sae dear to me: 55 O what blude's this upon your cheek? 'It is the blude of my greyhound, He wadna hunt for me.' 'O thy hound's blude was ne'er sae red, Nor e'er sae dear to me : 60 O what blude's this upon your hand? O dear son, tell to me.' 'It is the blude of my gay gosshawk, He wadna flee for me.' 65 'O thy hawk's blude was ne'er sae red, Nor e'er sae dear to me : O what blude's this upon your dirk? Dear Willie, tell to me.' 'It is the blude of my ae brother, O dule and wae is me!' 70 'O what will ye say to your father, Dear Willie, tell to me?' 'I'll saddle my steed, and awa' I'll ride To dwell in some far countrie.' 'O when will ye come hame again, Dear Willie, tell to me?' 'When the sun and mune dance on yon green, And that will never be.' She turned hersel' right round about, And her heart burst into three: 'My ae best son is deid and gane, And my tother ane I'll ne'er see.' Anon. 75 80 LXXX THE TWA SISTERS. There were twa sisters lived in a bouir; The youngest o' them, oh, she was a flouir! There came a squire frae the west; 5 He lo'ed them baith, but the youngest best; He gied the eldest a gay gowd ring; He courted the eldest wi' broach and knife; The eldest she was vexèd sair, And it fell once upon a day, ΙΟ 'Oh, sister, come to the sea-strand, She's ta'en her by the milk-white hand, The youngest sat upon a stane; 'Oh, sister, sister, lend me your hand, 'Oh, sister, I'll not reach my hand, And I'll be heir of all your land. 15 20 It twinned me and my world's maik.' 'Shame fa' the hand that I should take! 25 'Oh, sister, reach me but your glove, And you shall be sweet William's love.' 'Sink on, nor hope for hand or glove, 'Oh, father, father, in our mill-dam There's either a mermaid or a milk-white swan.' The miller quickly drew his dam; And there he fand a drowned woman. 40 You couldna see her yellow hair, For gowd and pearls that were sae rare. You couldna see her middle sma', 45 You couldna see her fingers sma', Wi' diamond rings they were covered a'. 'Sair will they be, whae'er they be, The hearts that live to weep for thee!' 50 Then by there cam a harper fine, That harpèd to the king at dine: And, when he looked that lady on, He sighed, and made a heavy moan: He has ta'en three locks o' her yellow hair, 55 And wi' them strung his harp sae fair. And he brought the harp to her father's hall, He laid his harp upon a stone, And straight it began to play alone. 'O yonder sits my father, the king! And yonder sits my mother, the queen! 60 'And yonder stands my brother Hugh, And by him my William sweet and true!' But the last tune that the harp played then, 65 Binnorie, O Binnorie, Was, 'Woe to my sister, false Helen!' By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie. Anon. LXXXI TO A VIRTUOUS YOUNG LADY. Lady, that in the prime of earliest youth To fill thy odorous lamp with deeds of light, Hast gained thy entrance, Virgin wise and pure. 5 JO LXXXII John Milton. EYES AND TEARS. How wisely Nature did decree, With the same eyes to weep and see! 5 10 |