A midnight bell, a parting groan- Then stretch our bones in a still gloomy valley; Nothing's so dainty sweet as lovely melancholy. J. FLETCHER. 105 TO A LOCK OF HAIR Thy hue, dear pledge, is pure and bright Since then how often hast thou prest Whose wrath and hate have sworn to dwell A breast whose blood's a troubled ocean, 5 Each throb the earthquake's wild commotion! 10 Yet keep thy hue unstain'd and pure, With such an angel for my guide; Nor heaven nor earth could then reprove me 15 Not then this world's wild joys had been 20 Mine ireful mood had sweetness tamed, 25 And soothed each wound which pride inflamed :— Yes, God and man might now approve me If thou hadst lived, and lived to love me ! SIR W. SCOTT. 106 THE FORSAKEN BRIDE O waly waly up the bank, And waly waly down the brae, And waly waly yon burn-side Where I and my Love wont to gae! I leant my back unto an aik, I thought it was a trusty tree; But first it bow'd, and syne it brak, Sae my true Love did lichtly me. O waly waly, but love be bonny A little time while it is new; Now Arthur-seat sall be my bed; The sheets shall ne'er be 'fil'd by me : Saint Anton's well sall be my drink, Since my true Love has forsaken me. Marti'mas wind, when wilt thou blaw And shake the green leaves aff the tree? O gentle Death, when wilt thou come? For of my life I am wearie. 'Tis not the frost, that freezes fell, But had I wist, before I kist, That love had been sae ill to win ; ANON. 35 40 107 FAIR HELEN I wish I were where Helen lies ; On fair Kirconnell lea ! Curst be the heart that thought the thought, And curst the hand that fired the shot, When in my arms burd Helen dropt, And died to succour me! O think na but my heart was sair When my Love dropt down and spak nae mair ! I laid her down wi' meikle care On fair Kirconnell lea. As I went down the water-side, On fair Kirconnell lea; I lighted down my sword to draw, For her sake that died for me. 6 11 15 20 O that I were where Helen lies! Says, Haste and come to me!' O Helen fair! O Helen chaste! I wish my grave were growing green, On fair Kirconnell lea. I wish I were where Helen lies; 25 30 35 40 ANON. 108 THE TWA CORBIES As I was walking all alane I heard twa corbies making a mane; 'Where sall we gang and dine to-day? -In behint yon auld fail dyke, 'His hound is to the hunting gane, 10 So we may make our dinner sweet. 'Ye'll sit on his white hause-bane, And I'll pick out his bonny blue een: Wi' ae lock o' his gowden hair 15 We'll theek our nest when it grows bare. Mony a one for him makes mane, 20 ANON. 109 TO BLOSSOMS Fair pledges of a fruitful tree, But you may stay yet here awhile What, were ye born to be An hour or half's delight, "Twas pity Nature brought ye forth But you are lovely leaves, where we Into the grave. R. HERRICK. 110 TO DAFFODILS Fair Daffodils, we weep to see As yet the early-rising Sun Has not attain'd his noon. 5 10 15 |