Relationships and Family

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;
But when 'tis auld, it waxeth cauld
And fades awa' like morning dew.
O wherefore should I busk my head?
Or wherefore should I kame my hair?
For my true Love has me forsook,
And says he'll never lo'e me mair.
Now Arthur-seat sall be my bed,
The sheets shall ne'er be prest 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 wearïe.
'Tis not the frost that freezes fell,
Nor blawing snaw's inclemencie—
'Tis not sic cauld that makes me cry,
But my Love's heart grown cauld to me.
When we came in by Glasgow town
We were a comely sight to see;
My Love was clad in the black velvét,
And I mysell in cramasie.
But had I wist, before I kist,
That love had been sae ill to win,
I had lockt my heart in a case of gowd
And pinn'd it with a siller pin.
And oh, if my young babe were born,
And set upon the nurse's knee,
And I mysell were dead and gane,
And the green grass growing over me!

The Braes o'Yarrow
Late at e'en, drinking the wine,
And ere they paid the lawing,
They set a combat them between,
To fight it in the dawing.
'What though ye be my sister's lord
We'll cross our swords to-morrow.'
'What though my wife your sister be,
I'll meet ye then on Yarrow.'
'O stay at hame, my ain gude lord!
O stay, my ain dear marrow!
My cruel brither will you betray
On the dowie banks of Yarrow.'
'O fare ye weel, my lady dear!
And put aside your sorrow;
For if I gae, I'll sune return
Frae the bonny banks o' Yarrow.'
She kiss'd his cheek, she kaimed his hair,
As oft she'd done before, O;
She belted him with his gude brand,
And he's awa' to Yarrow.
When he gaed up the Tennies bank,
As he gaed mony a morrow,
Nine armed men lay in a den
On the dowie braes o' Yarrow.
'O come ye here to hunt or hawk
The bonny Forest thorough?
Or come ye here to wield your brand
Upon the banks o' Yarrow?'
'I come not here to hunt or hawk
As oft I've dune before, O,
But I come here to wield my brand
Upon the banks o' Yarrow.
'If ye attack me nine to ane,
That God may send ye sorrow!--
Yet will I fight while stand I may,
On the bonny banks o' Yarrow.'
Two has he hurt, and three has slain,
On the bloody braes o' Yarrow;
But the stubborn knight crept in behind,
And pierced his body thorough.
'Gae hame, gae hame, you brither John,
And tell your sister sorrow,--


To come and lift her leafu' lord
On the dowie banks o' Yarrow.'
Her brither John gaed ower the hill,
As oft he'd dune before, O;
There he met his sister dear,
Cam' rinnin' fast to Yarrow.
'I dreamt a dream last night,' she says,
'I wish it binna sorrow;
I dreamt I pu'd the heather green
Wi' my true love on Yarrow.'
'I'll read your dream, sister,' he says,
'I'll read it into sorrow;
Ye're bidden go take up your love,
He's sleeping sound on Yarrow.'
She's torn the ribbons frae her head
That were baith braid and narrow;
She's kilted up her lang claithing,
And she's awa' to Yarrow.
She's ta'en him in her arms twa,
And gi'en him kisses thorough;
She sought to bind his many wounds,
But he lay dead on Yarrow.
'O haud your tongue,' her father says,
'And let be a' your sorrow;
I'll wed you to a better lord
Than him you lost on Yarrow.'
'O haud your tongue, father,' she says,
'Far warse ye make my sorrow;
A better lord could never be
Than him that lies on Yarrow.'
She kiss'd his lips, she kaimed his hair,
As aft she'd dune before, O;
And there with grief her heart did break
Upon the banks o' Yarrow.

The Braes o'Yarrow
Late at e'en, drinking the wine,
And ere they paid the lawing,
They set a combat them between,
To fight it in the dawing.
'What though ye be my sister's lord
We'll cross our swords to-morrow.'
'What though my wife your sister be,
I'll meet ye then on Yarrow.'
'O stay at hame, my ain gude lord!
O stay, my ain dear marrow!
My cruel brither will you betray
On the dowie banks of Yarrow.'
'O fare ye weel, my lady dear!
And put aside your sorrow;
For if I gae, I'll sune return
Frae the bonny banks o' Yarrow.'
She kiss'd his cheek, she kaimed his hair,
As oft she'd done before, O;
She belted him with his gude brand,
And he's awa' to Yarrow.
When he gaed up the Tennies bank,
As he gaed mony a morrow,
Nine armed men lay in a den
On the dowie braes o' Yarrow.
'O come ye here to hunt or hawk
The bonny Forest thorough?
Or come ye here to wield your brand
Upon the banks o' Yarrow?'
'I come not here to hunt or hawk
As oft I've dune before, O,
But I come here to wield my brand
Upon the banks o' Yarrow.
'If ye attack me nine to ane,
That God may send ye sorrow!--
Yet will I fight while stand I may,
On the bonny banks o' Yarrow.'
Two has he hurt, and three has slain,
On the bloody braes o' Yarrow;
But the stubborn knight crept in behind,
And pierced his body thorough.
'Gae hame, gae hame, you brither John,
And tell your sister sorrow,--


To come and lift her leafu' lord
On the dowie banks o' Yarrow.'
Her brither John gaed ower the hill,
As oft he'd dune before, O;
There he met his sister dear,
Cam' rinnin' fast to Yarrow.
'I dreamt a dream last night,' she says,
'I wish it binna sorrow;
I dreamt I pu'd the heather green
Wi' my true love on Yarrow.'
'I'll read your dream, sister,' he says,
'I'll read it into sorrow;
Ye're bidden go take up your love,
He's sleeping sound on Yarrow.'
She's torn the ribbons frae her head
That were baith braid and narrow;
She's kilted up her lang claithing,
And she's awa' to Yarrow.
She's ta'en him in her arms twa,
And gi'en him kisses thorough;
She sought to bind his many wounds,
But he lay dead on Yarrow.
'O haud your tongue,' her father says,
'And let be a' your sorrow;
I'll wed you to a better lord
Than him you lost on Yarrow.'
'O haud your tongue, father,' she says,
'Far warse ye make my sorrow;
A better lord could never be
Than him that lies on Yarrow.'
She kiss'd his lips, she kaimed his hair,
As aft she'd dune before, O;
And there with grief her heart did break
Upon the banks o' Yarrow.

She'll Be Comin' Round the Mountain
She'll be comin' round the mountain,
When she comes.
She'll be comin' round the mountain,
When she comes.
She'll be comin' round the mountain,
She'll be comin' round the mountain,
She'll be comin' round the mountain,
When she comes.
She'll be drivin' six white horses,
When she comes.
She'll be drivin' six white horses,
When she comes.
She'll be drivin' six white horses,
She'll be drivin' six white horses,
She'll be drivin' six white horses,
When she comes.
Oh we'll all go to meet her,
When she comes.
Oh we'll all go to meet her,
When she comes.
We will kill the old red rooster,
We will kill the old red rooster,
And we'll all have chicken and dumplin',
When she comes.

Sir Patrick Spence
The king sits in Dumferling toune,
Drinking the blude-reid wine:
"O whar will I get guid sailor,
To sail this schip of mine?"
Up and spak an eldern knicht,
Sat at the kings richt kne:
"Sir Patrick Spence is the best sailor
That sails upon the se."
The king has written a braid letter,
And signd it wi his hand,
And sent it to Sir Patrick Spence,
Was walking on the sand.
The first line that Sir Patrick red,
A loud lauch lauched he;
The next line that Sir Patrick red,
The teir blinded his ee.
"O wha is this has don this deid,
This ill deid don to me,
To send me out this time o' the yeir,
To sail upon the se!
"Mak hast, mak haste, my mirry men all,
Our guid schip sails the morne:"
"O say na sae, my master deir,
For I feir a deadlie storme.
"Late late yestreen I saw the new moone,
Wi the auld moone in hir arme,
And I feir, I feir, my deir master,
That we will cum to harme."
O our Scots nobles wer richt laith
To weet their cork-heild schoone;
Bot lang owre a' the play wer playd,
Thair hats they swam aboone.
O lang, lang may their ladies sit,
Wi thair fans into their hand,
Or eir they se Sir Patrick Spence
Cum sailing to the land.
O lang, lang may the ladies stand,
Wi thair gold kems in their hair,
Waiting for thair ain deir lords,
For they'll se thame na mair.
Haf owre, haf owre to Aberdour,
It's fiftie fadom deip,


And thair lies guid Sir Patrick Spence,
Wi the Scots lords at his feit.

I Saw Three Ships
I saw three ships come sailing in
On Christmas day, on Christmas day;
I saw three ships come sailing in
On Christmas day in the morning.
And what was in those ships all three,
On Christmas day, on Christmas day?
And what was in those ships all three,
On Christmas day in the morning?
Our Saviour Christ and his lady,
On Christmas day, on Christmas day;
Our Saviour Christ and his lady,
On Christmas day in the morning.
Pray whither sailed those ships all three,
On Christmas day, on Christmas day?
Pray whither sailed those ships all three,
On Christmas day in the morning?
O they sailed into Bethlehem,
On Christmas day, on Christmas day;
O they sailed into Bethlehem,
On Christmas day in the morning.
And all the bells on earth shall ring,
On Christmas day, on Christmas day;
And all the bells on earth shall ring,
On Christmas day in the morning.
And all the Angels in Heaven shall sing,
On Christmas day, on Christmas day;
And all the Angels in Heaven shall sing,
On Christmas day in the morning.
And all the Souls on Earth shall sing,
On Christmas day, on Christmas day;
And all the Souls on Earth shall sing,
On Christmas day in the morning.
Then let us all rejoice amain,
On Christmas day, on Christmas day;
Then let us all rejoice amain,
On Christmas day in the morning.

Godfrey Gordon
Godfrey Gordon Gustuvus Gore
The boy who'd never shut the door
His Father would Plead and mother implore
Godfrey Gordon Please Shut the door.

Frankie and Johnnie
Frankie and Johnnie were lovers,
O, my Gawd, how they could love,
They swore to be true to each other,
As true as the stars above;
He was her man, but he done her wrong.
Frankie was a good woman,
As everybody knows,
Gave her man a hundred dollars,
To get him a suit of clothes;
He was her man, but he done her wrong.
Frankie and Johnnie went walking,
Johnnie in his bran' new suit,
"Oh, my Gawd," said Frankie,
"But don't my Johnnie look cute?"
He was her man, but he done her wrong.
Frankie went down to Memphis,
Went on the morning train,
Paid a hundred dollars,
Got Johnnie a watch and chain;
He was her man, but he done her wrong.
Frankie lived in a crib-house,
Crib-house with only two doors,
Gave her money to Johnnie,
He spent it on those parlour whores;
He was her man, but he done her wrong.
Frankie went down to the corner,
Went for a bucket of beer,
She said, "Oh, Mr. Bar-tender,
Has my loving Johnnie been here?
He is my man, and he's done me wrong."
"I won't make you no trouble,
I won't tell you no lie,
But I saw Johnnie an hour ago
With a girl named Nellie Bly;
He is your man, and he's doing you wrong."
Frankie went to the hock-shop,
Bought her a big forty-four,
Aimed that gun at the ceiling,
Shot a big hole in the floor;
"Now where's my man that's doing me wrong?"
Frankie went down to the hook-shop,
Looked in at a window so high,
There she saw her Johnnie,
Loving up Nellie Bly,


He was her man, but he done her wrong.
Frankie went up to the front door,
She rang the front-door bell,
Said, "Stand back, all you chippies,
Or I'll blow you all to hell;
I want my man, who's done me wrong."
Frankie went into the hook-shop,
She didn't go there for fun,
'Cause underneath her kimona
She toted that forty-four gun;
He was her man, but he done her wrong.
Frankie looked in at the keyhole,
And there before her eye,
She saw her Johnnie on the sofa,
A loving up Nellie Bly;
He was her man, but he done her wrong.
Frankie threw back her kimona,
Took out the little forty-four,
Roota-toot-toot, three times she shoot,
Right through that hardwood door;
He was her man, but he done her wrong.
Johnnie grabbed off his Stetson,
Said, "Oh, Gawd, Frankie, don't shoot!"
But she pressed hard on the trigger,
And the gun went roota-toot-toot;
He was her man, but he done her wrong.
"Roll me over easy,
Oh, roll me over slow,
Roll me over on my right side,
'Cause my left side hurts me so."
He was her man, but he done her wrong.
"Bring out your rubber-tyred buggy,
Bring out your rubber-tyred hack,
I'll take my man to the graveyard,
But I won't bring him back;
He was my man, but he done me wrong."
They brought out the rubber-tyred hearses,
They brought out the rubber-tyred hack,
Thirteen men went to the graveyard,
But only twelve came back;
He was her man, but he done her wrong.
"Bring 'round a hundred policemen,
Bring 'em around to-day,


And lock me in that jail-house,
Then throw the key away;
I shot my man, 'cause he done me wrong.
"I've saved up a little money,
I'll save up a little more,
I'll send it all to his widow,
And say it's from the girl next door;
He was my man, but he done me wrong."
Frankie went to the madame,
She fell down on her knees,
"Forgive me, Mrs. Halcome,
Forgive me, if you please;
I've killed my man, 'cause he done me wrong."
"Forgive you, Frankie darling?
Forgive you I never can.
Forgive you, Frankie darling,
For shooting your only man?
For he was your man, though he done you wrong."
Frankie went to the coffin,
Looked down at his face,
Said, "Oh, Lord, have mercy on me,
I'd like to take his place;
He was my man, but he done me wrong."
A rubber-tyred buggy,
A rubber-tyred hack,
Took poor Frankie to the jail-house
But it didn't bring her back;
He was her man, but he done her wrong.
Frankie sat in her prison,
Had no electric fan,
Told her little sister,
Never marry no sporting man;
"I had a man, but he done me wrong."
The Sheriff took Frankie to the gallows,
Hung her until she died,
They hung her for killing Johnnie,
And the undertaker waited outside;
She killed her man, 'cause he done her wrong.

Frankie and Johnnie
Frankie and Johnnie were lovers,
O, my Gawd, how they could love,
They swore to be true to each other,
As true as the stars above;
He was her man, but he done her wrong.
Frankie was a good woman,
As everybody knows,
Gave her man a hundred dollars,
To get him a suit of clothes;
He was her man, but he done her wrong.
Frankie and Johnnie went walking,
Johnnie in his bran' new suit,
"Oh, my Gawd," said Frankie,
"But don't my Johnnie look cute?"
He was her man, but he done her wrong.
Frankie went down to Memphis,
Went on the morning train,
Paid a hundred dollars,
Got Johnnie a watch and chain;
He was her man, but he done her wrong.
Frankie lived in a crib-house,
Crib-house with only two doors,
Gave her money to Johnnie,
He spent it on those parlour whores;
He was her man, but he done her wrong.
Frankie went down to the corner,
Went for a bucket of beer,
She said, "Oh, Mr. Bar-tender,
Has my loving Johnnie been here?
He is my man, and he's done me wrong."
"I won't make you no trouble,
I won't tell you no lie,
But I saw Johnnie an hour ago
With a girl named Nellie Bly;
He is your man, and he's doing you wrong."
Frankie went to the hock-shop,
Bought her a big forty-four,
Aimed that gun at the ceiling,
Shot a big hole in the floor;
"Now where's my man that's doing me wrong?"
Frankie went down to the hook-shop,
Looked in at a window so high,
There she saw her Johnnie,
Loving up Nellie Bly,


He was her man, but he done her wrong.
Frankie went up to the front door,
She rang the front-door bell,
Said, "Stand back, all you chippies,
Or I'll blow you all to hell;
I want my man, who's done me wrong."
Frankie went into the hook-shop,
She didn't go there for fun,
'Cause underneath her kimona
She toted that forty-four gun;
He was her man, but he done her wrong.
Frankie looked in at the keyhole,
And there before her eye,
She saw her Johnnie on the sofa,
A loving up Nellie Bly;
He was her man, but he done her wrong.
Frankie threw back her kimona,
Took out the little forty-four,
Roota-toot-toot, three times she shoot,
Right through that hardwood door;
He was her man, but he done her wrong.
Johnnie grabbed off his Stetson,
Said, "Oh, Gawd, Frankie, don't shoot!"
But she pressed hard on the trigger,
And the gun went roota-toot-toot;
He was her man, but he done her wrong.
"Roll me over easy,
Oh, roll me over slow,
Roll me over on my right side,
'Cause my left side hurts me so."
He was her man, but he done her wrong.
"Bring out your rubber-tyred buggy,
Bring out your rubber-tyred hack,
I'll take my man to the graveyard,
But I won't bring him back;
He was my man, but he done me wrong."
They brought out the rubber-tyred hearses,
They brought out the rubber-tyred hack,
Thirteen men went to the graveyard,
But only twelve came back;
He was her man, but he done her wrong.
"Bring 'round a hundred policemen,
Bring 'em around to-day,


And lock me in that jail-house,
Then throw the key away;
I shot my man, 'cause he done me wrong.
"I've saved up a little money,
I'll save up a little more,
I'll send it all to his widow,
And say it's from the girl next door;
He was my man, but he done me wrong."
Frankie went to the madame,
She fell down on her knees,
"Forgive me, Mrs. Halcome,
Forgive me, if you please;
I've killed my man, 'cause he done me wrong."
"Forgive you, Frankie darling?
Forgive you I never can.
Forgive you, Frankie darling,
For shooting your only man?
For he was your man, though he done you wrong."
Frankie went to the coffin,
Looked down at his face,
Said, "Oh, Lord, have mercy on me,
I'd like to take his place;
He was my man, but he done me wrong."
A rubber-tyred buggy,
A rubber-tyred hack,
Took poor Frankie to the jail-house
But it didn't bring her back;
He was her man, but he done her wrong.
Frankie sat in her prison,
Had no electric fan,
Told her little sister,
Never marry no sporting man;
"I had a man, but he done me wrong."
The Sheriff took Frankie to the gallows,
Hung her until she died,
They hung her for killing Johnnie,
And the undertaker waited outside;
She killed her man, 'cause he done her wrong.

England
Oh, England!
Sick in head and sick in heart,
Sick in whole and every part:
And yet sicker thou art still
For thinking that thou art not ill.

Alysoun
An hendy hap ichabbe yhent;
Ichot, from hevene it is me sent;
From alle wymmen mi loue is lent,
And lyght on Alysoun.
Bytuen{.e} Mersh and Averil,
When spray biginneth to spring{.e},
The lutel foul hath hir{.e} wyl
On hyr{.e} lud to syng{.e}.
Ich libbe in love longing{.e}
For semlokest of all{.e} thing{.e}.
He may me bliss{.e} bring{.e};
Icham in hire baundoun.
On heu hire her is fayr ynoh,
Hire brow{.e} broune, hire ey{.e} blak{.e};
With lossum chere he on me loh;
With middel smal, and wel ymak{.e}.
Bote he me woll{.e} to hire tak{.e},
Fort{.e} buen hire owen mak{.e},
Longe to lyven ichulle forsak{.e},
And fey{.e} fallen adoun.
Niht{.e}s when y wende and wak{.e},
Forthi myn wong{.e}s waxeth won;
Levedi, al for thin{.e} sak{.e}
Longinge is ylent me on.
In world nis non so wyter mon,
That al hire bounté tell{.e} con.
Hire swyre is whittore then the swon,
And feyrest may in toune.
Icham for wowyng al forwake,
Wery so water in wor{.e}.
Lest eny rev{.e} me my mak{.e},
Ychabbe y-yern{.e}d yor{.e}.
Betere is tholien whyl{.e} sor{.e}
Then mournen evermor{.e}.
Geynest under gor{.e},
Herkn{.e} to my roun.

Verses To A Child

1

O raise those eyes to me again

And smile again so joyously,

And fear not, love; it was not pain

Nor grief that drew these tears from me;

Beloved child, thou canst not tell

The thoughts that in my bosom dwell
Whene'er I look on thee!

2

Thou knowest not that a glance of thine

Can bring back long departed years

And that thy blue eyes' magic shine

Can overflow my own with tears,

And that each feature soft and fair

And every curl of golden hair,
Some sweet remembrance bears.

3

Just then thou didst recall to me

A distant long forgotten scene,

One smile, and one sweet word from thee

Dispelled the years that rolled between;

I was a little child again,

And every after joy and pain
Seemed never to have been.

4

Tall forest trees waved over me,

To hide me from the heat of day,

And by my side a child like thee

Among the summer flowerets lay.

He was thy sire, thou merry child.

Like thee he spoke, like thee he smiled,
Like thee he used to play.

5

O those were calm and happy days,

We loved each other fondly then;

But human love too soon decays,

And ours can never bloom again.

I never thought to see the day

When Florian's friendship would decay
Like those of colder men.

6


Now, Flora, thou hast but begun
To sail on life's deceitful sea,
O do not err as I have done,
For I have trusted foolishly;
The faith of every friend I loved
I never doubted till I proved


Their heart's inconstancy.

7


'Tis mournful to look back upon
Those long departed joys and cares,
But I will weep since thou alone
Art witness to my streaming tears.
This lingering love will not depart,
I cannot banish from my heart


The friend of childish years.

8


But though thy father loves me not,
Yet I shall still be loved by thee,
And though I am by him forgot,
Say wilt thou not remember me!
I will not cause thy heart to ache;
For thy regretted father's sake


I'll love and cherish thee.

Alexandrina Zenobia

Verses To A Child

1

O raise those eyes to me again

And smile again so joyously,

And fear not, love; it was not pain

Nor grief that drew these tears from me;

Beloved child, thou canst not tell

The thoughts that in my bosom dwell
Whene'er I look on thee!

2

Thou knowest not that a glance of thine

Can bring back long departed years

And that thy blue eyes' magic shine

Can overflow my own with tears,

And that each feature soft and fair

And every curl of golden hair,
Some sweet remembrance bears.

3

Just then thou didst recall to me

A distant long forgotten scene,

One smile, and one sweet word from thee

Dispelled the years that rolled between;

I was a little child again,

And every after joy and pain
Seemed never to have been.

4

Tall forest trees waved over me,

To hide me from the heat of day,

And by my side a child like thee

Among the summer flowerets lay.

He was thy sire, thou merry child.

Like thee he spoke, like thee he smiled,
Like thee he used to play.

5

O those were calm and happy days,

We loved each other fondly then;

But human love too soon decays,

And ours can never bloom again.

I never thought to see the day

When Florian's friendship would decay
Like those of colder men.

6


Now, Flora, thou hast but begun
To sail on life's deceitful sea,
O do not err as I have done,
For I have trusted foolishly;
The faith of every friend I loved
I never doubted till I proved


Their heart's inconstancy.

7


'Tis mournful to look back upon
Those long departed joys and cares,
But I will weep since thou alone
Art witness to my streaming tears.
This lingering love will not depart,
I cannot banish from my heart


The friend of childish years.

8


But though thy father loves me not,
Yet I shall still be loved by thee,
And though I am by him forgot,
Say wilt thou not remember me!
I will not cause thy heart to ache;
For thy regretted father's sake


I'll love and cherish thee.

Alexandrina Zenobia

The Parting

1

The chestnut steed stood by the gate
His noble master's will to wait,
The woody park so green and bright
Was glowing in the morning light,
The young leaves of the aspen trees
Were dancing in the morning breeze.
The palace door was open wide,
Its lord was standing there,
And his sweet lady by his side
With soft dark eyes and raven hair.
He smiling took her wary hand
And said, 'No longer here I stand;
My charger shakes his flowing mane
And calls me with impatient neigh.
Adieu then till we meet again,
Sweet love, I must no longer stay.'


2


'You must not go so soon,' she said,
'I will not say farewell.
The sun has not dispelled the shade
In yonder dewy dell;
Dark shadows of gigantic length
Are sleeping on the lawn;
And scarcely have the birds begun

To hail the summer morn;
Then stay with me a little while,'
She said with soft and sunny smile.

3


He smiled again and did not speak,
But lightly kissed her rosy cheek,
And fondly clasped her in his arms,
Then vaulted on his steed.
And down the park's smooth winding road
He urged its flying speed.
Still by the door his lady stood
And watched his rapid flight,
Until he came to a distant wood
That hid him from her sight.
But ere he vanished from her view
He waved to her a last adieu,
Then onward hastily he steered
And in the forest disappeared.


4


The lady smiled a pensive smile



And heaved a gently sigh,
But her cheek was all unblanched the while

And tearless was her eye.
'A thousand lovely flowers,' she said,
'Are smiling on the plain.


And ere one half of them are dead,
My lord will come again.
The leaves are waving fresh and green
On every stately tree,
And long before they die away
He will return to me!' Alas!
Fair lady, say not so;
Thou canst not tell the weight of woe
That lies in store for thee.

5


Those flowers will fade, those leaves will fall,
Winter will darken yonder hall;
Sweet spring will smile o'er hill and plain
And trees and flowers will bloom again,
And years will still keep rolling on,
But thy beloved lord is gone.
His absence thou shalt deeply mourn,
And never smile on his return.

The Parting

1

The chestnut steed stood by the gate
His noble master's will to wait,
The woody park so green and bright
Was glowing in the morning light,
The young leaves of the aspen trees
Were dancing in the morning breeze.
The palace door was open wide,
Its lord was standing there,
And his sweet lady by his side
With soft dark eyes and raven hair.
He smiling took her wary hand
And said, 'No longer here I stand;
My charger shakes his flowing mane
And calls me with impatient neigh.
Adieu then till we meet again,
Sweet love, I must no longer stay.'


2


'You must not go so soon,' she said,
'I will not say farewell.
The sun has not dispelled the shade
In yonder dewy dell;
Dark shadows of gigantic length
Are sleeping on the lawn;
And scarcely have the birds begun

To hail the summer morn;
Then stay with me a little while,'
She said with soft and sunny smile.

3


He smiled again and did not speak,
But lightly kissed her rosy cheek,
And fondly clasped her in his arms,
Then vaulted on his steed.
And down the park's smooth winding road
He urged its flying speed.
Still by the door his lady stood
And watched his rapid flight,
Until he came to a distant wood
That hid him from her sight.
But ere he vanished from her view
He waved to her a last adieu,
Then onward hastily he steered
And in the forest disappeared.


4


The lady smiled a pensive smile



And heaved a gently sigh,
But her cheek was all unblanched the while

And tearless was her eye.
'A thousand lovely flowers,' she said,
'Are smiling on the plain.


And ere one half of them are dead,
My lord will come again.
The leaves are waving fresh and green
On every stately tree,
And long before they die away
He will return to me!' Alas!
Fair lady, say not so;
Thou canst not tell the weight of woe
That lies in store for thee.

5


Those flowers will fade, those leaves will fall,
Winter will darken yonder hall;
Sweet spring will smile o'er hill and plain
And trees and flowers will bloom again,
And years will still keep rolling on,
But thy beloved lord is gone.
His absence thou shalt deeply mourn,
And never smile on his return.

The Consolation

Though bleak these woods and damp the ground
With fallen leaves so thickly strewn,
And cold the wind that wanders round
With wild and melancholy moan,
There is a friendly roof I know
Might shield me from the wintry blast;
There is a fire whose ruddy glow
Will cheer me for my wanderings past.


And so, though still where'er I roam
Cold stranger glances meet my eye,
Though when my spirit sinks in woe
Unheeded swells the unbidden sigh,


Though solitude endured too long
Bids youthful joys too soon decay,
Makes mirth a stranger to my tongue
And overclouds my noon of day,


When kindly thoughts that would have way
Flow back discouraged to my breast
I know there is, though far away
A home where heart and soul may rest.


Warm hands are there that clasped in mine
The warmer heart will not belie,
While mirth and truth and friendship shine
In smiling lip and earnest eye.


The ice that gathers round my heart
May there be thawed; and sweetly then
The joys of youth that now depart
Will come to cheer my soul again.


Though far I roam, this thought shall be
My hope, my comfort everywhere;
While such a home remains to me
My heart shall never know despair.


Hespera Caverndel

Parting Address From Z.Z. To A.E.

O weep not, love! each tear that springs
In those dear eyes of thine,
To me a keener suffering brings
Than if they flowed from mine.
And do not droop! however drear

The fate awaiting thee.
For my sake, combat pain and care,
And cherish life for me!


I do not fear thy love will fail,
Thy faith is true I know;
But O! my love! thy strength is frail
For such a life of woe.

Were't not for this, I well could trace
(Though banished long from thee)
Life's rugged path, and boldly face
The storms that threaten me.

Fear not for me I've
steeled my mind
Sorrow and strife to greet,
Joy with my love I leave behind,
Care with my friends I meet.

A mother's sad reproachful eye,
A father's scowling brow But
he may frown, and she may sigh;
I will not break my vow!

I love my mother, I revere
My sire, but doubt not me.
Believe that Death alone can tear
This faithful heart from thee.

Zerona

Parting Address From Z.Z. To A.E.

O weep not, love! each tear that springs
In those dear eyes of thine,
To me a keener suffering brings
Than if they flowed from mine.
And do not droop! however drear

The fate awaiting thee.
For my sake, combat pain and care,
And cherish life for me!


I do not fear thy love will fail,
Thy faith is true I know;
But O! my love! thy strength is frail
For such a life of woe.

Were't not for this, I well could trace
(Though banished long from thee)
Life's rugged path, and boldly face
The storms that threaten me.

Fear not for me I've
steeled my mind
Sorrow and strife to greet,
Joy with my love I leave behind,
Care with my friends I meet.

A mother's sad reproachful eye,
A father's scowling brow But
he may frown, and she may sigh;
I will not break my vow!

I love my mother, I revere
My sire, but doubt not me.
Believe that Death alone can tear
This faithful heart from thee.

Zerona

Power of Love

Love, indeed thy strength is mighty
Thus, alone, such strife to bear Three
'gainst one, and never ceasing Death,
and Madness, and Despair!
'Tis not my own strength has saved me;
Health, and hope, and fortitude,
But for love, had long since failed me;
Heart and soul had sunk subdued.

Often, in my wild impatience,
I have lost my trust in Heaven,
And my soul has tossed and struggled,
Like a vessel tempestdriven;


But the voice of my beloved
In my ear has seemed to say '
O, be patient if thou lov'st me!'
And the storm has passed away.

When outworn with weary thinking,
Sight and thought were waxing dim,
And my mind began to wander,
And my brain began to swim,

Then those hands outstretched to save me
Seemed to call me back again Those
dark eyes did so implore me
To resume my reason's reign,

That I could not but remember
How her hopes were fixed on me,
And, with one determined effort,
Rose, and shook my spirit free.

When hope leaves my weary spirit All
the power to hold it gone That
loved voice so loudly prays me,
'For my sake, keep hoping on,'

That, at once my strength renewing,
Though Despair had crushed me down,
I can burst his bonds asunder,
And defy his deadliest frown.

When, from nights of restless tossing,
Days of gloom and pining care,
Pain and weakness, still increasing,
Seem to whisper 'Death is near,'

And I almost bid him welcome,
Knowing he would bring release,
Weary of this restless struggle



Longing to repose in peace,

Then a glance of fond reproval

Bids such selfish longings flee
And a voice of matchless music

Murmurs 'Cherish life for me!'

Roused to newborn strength and courage,

Pain and grief, I cast away,
Health and life, I keenly follow,

Mighty Death is held at bay.

Yes, my love, I will be patient!

Firm and bold my heart shall be:
Fear not though
this life is dreary,

I can bear it well for thee.

Let our foes still rain upon me

Cruel wrongs and taunting scorn;
'Tis for thee their hate pursues me,

And for thee, it shall be borne!

A.E.

Monday Night May 11th 1846 / Domestic Peace

Why should such gloomy silence reign;
And why is all the house so drear,
When neither danger, sickness, pain,
Nor death, nor want have entered here?
We are as many as we were
That other night, when all were gay,
And full of hope, and free from care;
Yet, is there something gone away.


The moon without as pure and calm
Is shining as that night she shone;
but now, to us she brings no balm,
For something from our hearts is gone.


Something whose absence leaves a void,
A cheerless want in every heart.
Each feels the bliss of all destroyed
And mourns the change but
each apart.


The fire is burning in the grate
As redly as it used to burn,
But still the hearth is desolate
Till Mirth and Love with Peace return.


'Twas Peace that flowed from heart to heart
With looks and smiles that spoke of Heaven,
And gave us language to impart
The blissful thoughts itself had given.


Sweet child of Heaven, and joy of earth!
O, when will Man thy value learn?
We rudely drove thee from our hearth,
And vainly sigh for thy return.

Lines Written at Thorp Green

That summer sun, whose genial glow
Now cheers my drooping spirit so
Must cold and distant be,
And only light our northern clime
With feeble ray, before the time
I long so much to see.
And this soft whispering breeze that now
So gently cools my fevered brow,
This too, alas, must turn To
a wild blast whose icy dart
Pierces and chills me to the heart,
Before I cease to mourn.


And these bright flowers I love so well,
Verbena, rose and sweet bluebell,
Must droop and die away.
Those thick green leaves with all their shade
And rustling music, they must fade
And every one decay.


But if the sunny summer time
And woods and meadows in their prime
Are sweet to them that roam Far
sweeter is the winter bare
With long dark nights and landscapes drear
To them that are at Home!

Home


How brightly glistening in the sun
The woodland ivy plays!

While yonder beeches from their barks
Reflect his silver rays.

That sun surveys a lovely scene
From softly smiling skies;

And wildly through unnumbered trees
The wind of winter sighs:

Now loud, it thunders o'er my head,
And now in distance dies.

But give me back my barren hills
Where colder breezes rise;

Where scarce the scattered, stunted trees
Can yield an answering swell,

But where a wilderness of heath
Returns the sound as well.

For yonder garden, fair and wide,
With groves of evergreen,

Long winding walks, and borders trim,
And velvet lawns between;

Restore to me that little spot,
With grey walls compassed round,

Where knotted grass neglected lies,
And weeds usurp the ground.

Though all around this mansion high
Invites the foot to roam,

And though its halls are fair within Oh,
give me back my HOME!

Acton

Call Me Away

Call me away; there's nothing here,
That wins my soul to stay;
Then let me leave this prospect drear,
And hasten far away.
To our beloved land I'll flee,
Our land of thought and soul,
Where I have roved so oft with thee,
Beyond the world's control.

I'll sit and watch those ancient trees,
Those Scotch firs dark and high;
I'll listen to the eerie breeze,
Among their branches sigh.

The glorious moon shines far above;
How soft her radiance falls,
On snowy heights, and rock, and grove;
And yonder palace walls!

Who stands beneath yon fir trees high?
A youth both slight and fair,
Whose bright and restless azure eye

Proclaims him known to care,
Though fair that brow, it is not smooth;
Though small those features, yet in sooth

Stern passion has been there.

Now on the peaceful moon are fixed
Those eyes so glistening bright,
But trembling teardrops hang betwixt,
And dim the blessed light.

Though late the hour, and keen the blast,
That whistles round him now,
Those raven locks are backward cast,
To cool his burning brow.

His hands above his heaving breast
Are clasped in agony '
O Father! Father! let me rest!
And call my soul to thee!

I know 'tis weakness thus to pray;
But all this cankering care This
doubt tormenting night and day
Is more than I can bear!

With none to comfort, none to guide
And none to strengthen me.
Since thou my only friend hast died I've
pined to follow thee!
Since thou hast died! And did he live


What comfort could his counsel give To
one forlorn like me?

Would he my Idol's form adore Her
soul, her glance, her tone?
And say, "Forget for ever more

Her kindred and thine own;
Let dreams of her thy peace destroy,
Leave every other hope and joy

And live for her alone"?'

He starts, he smiles, and dries the tears,
Still glistening on his cheek,
The lady of his soul appears,
And hark! I hear her speak


'Aye, dry thy tears; thou wilt not weep While
I am by thy side Our
foes all day their watch may keep

But cannot thus divide
Such hearts as ours; and we tonight
Together in the clear moon's light

Their malice will deride.

No fear our present bliss shall blast
And sorrow we'll defy.
Do thou forget the dreary past,
The dreadful future I.'

Forget it? Yes, while thou art by
I think of nought but thee,
'Tis only when thou art not nigh
Remembrance tortures me.

But such a lofty soul to find,
And such a heart as thine,
In such a glorious form enshrined

And still to call thee mine Would
be for earth too great a bliss,
Without a taint of woe like this,

Then why should I repine?

An Orphan's Lament

She's gone and
twice the summer's sun
Has gilt Regina's towers,
And melted wild Angora's snows,
And warmed Exina's bowers.
The flowerets twice on hill and dale
Have bloomed and died away,
And twice the rustling forest leaves
Have fallen to decay,


And thrice stern winter's icy hand
Has checked the river's flow,
And three times o'er the mountains thrown
His spotless robe of snow.


Two summers springs and autumns sad
Three winters cold and grey And
is it then so long ago
That wild November day!


They say such tears as children weep
Will soon be dried away,
That childish grief however strong
Is only for a day,


And parted friends how dear soe'er
Will soon forgotten be;
It may be so with other hearts,
It is not thus with me.


My mother, thou wilt weep no more
For thou art gone above,
But can I ever cease to mourn
Thy good and fervent love?


While that was mine the world to me
Was sunshine bright and fair;
No feeling rose within my heart
But thou couldst read it there.


And thou couldst feel for all my joys
And all my childish cares
And never weary of my play
Or scorn my foolish fears.


Beneath thy sweet maternal smile
All pain and sorrow fled,
And even the very tears were sweet
Upon thy bosom shed.


Thy loss can never be repaired;
I shall not know again
While life remains, the peaceful joy



That filled my spirit then.


Where shall I find a heart like thine
While life remains to me,
And where shall I bestow the love
I ever bore for thee?


A.H.