BOOK XVII - DEATH 216 - A LYKE-WAKE DIRGE THIS ae nighte, this ae nighte, =_Every nighte and alle,_ Fire, and sleet, and candle-lighte; =_And Christe receive thye saule._ When thou from hence away art paste, =_Every nighte and alle,_ To Whinny-muir thou comest at laste; =_And Christe receive thye saule._ If ever thou gayest hosen and shoon, =_Every nighte and alle,_ Sit thee down and put them on; =_And Christe receive thye saule._ If hosen and shoon thou ne'er gayest nane, =_Every nighte and alle,_ The whinnes sall pricke thee to the bare bane; =_And Christe receive thye saule._ From Whinny-muir when thou mayst passe, =_Every nighte and alle,_ To Brig o' Dread thou comest at laste; =_And Christe receive thye saule._ From Brig o' Dread when thou mayst passe =_Every nighte and alle,_ To purgatory fire thou comest at laste; =_And Christe receive thye saule._ If ever thou gavest meate or drinke, =_Every nighte and alle,_ The fire sall never make thee shrinke; =_And Christe receive thye saule._ If meate or drinke thou gavest nane, =_Every nighte and alle,_ The fire will burn thee to the bare bane; =_And Christe receive thye saule._ This ae nighte, this ae nighte, =_Every nighte and alle,_ Fire, and sleet, and candle-lighte; =_And Christe receive thye saule._ 217 - EDWARD "WHY dois your brand sae drap wi' bluid, ====Edward, Edward? Why dois your brand sae drap wi' bluid, =And why sae sad gang ye O?" "O I hae killed my hawk sae guid, ====Mither, mither; O I hae killed my hawk sae guid, =And I had nae mair bot he O." "Your hawk's bluid was never sae reid, ====Edward, Edward; Your hawk's bluid was never sae reid, =My dear son, I tell thee O." "O I hae killed my reid-roan steed, ====Mither, mither; O I hae killed my reid-roan steed, =That erst was sae fair and free O." "Your steed was auld, and ye hae gat mair, ====Edward, Edward; Your steed was auld, and ye hae gat mair, =Some other dule ye dree O." "O I hae killed my fader dear, ====Mither, mither; O I hae killed my fader dear, =Alas, and wae is me O!" "And whatten penance will ye dree for that, ====Edward, Edward? And whatten penance will ye dree for that? =My dear son, now tell me O." "I'll set my feet in yonder boat, ====Mither, mither; I'll set my feet in yonder boat, =And I'll fare over the sea O." "And what will ye do wi' your towers and your ha', ====Edward, Edward? And what will ye do wi' your towers and your ha', =What were sae fair to see O?" "I'll let them stand till they down fa', ====Mither, mither; I'll let them stand till they down fa', =For here never mair maun I be O." "And what will ye leave to your bairns and your wife, ====Edward, Edward? And what will ye leave to your bairns and your wife, =When ye gang over the sea O?" "The warldis room, lat them beg thro' Life, ====Mither, mither; The warldis room, lat them beg thro' life, =For hame never mair will I see O." "And what will ye leave to your ain mither dear, ====Edward, Edward? And what will ye leave to your ain mither dear? =My dear son, now tell me O." "The curse of hell frae me sall ye bear, ====Mither, mither; The curse of hell frae me sall ye bear, =Sic counsels ye gave to me O." 218 - THE TWA CORBIES As I was walking all alane, I heard twa corbies makin' a mane; The tane unto the t'other say, "Where sall we gang and dine the day?" "In ahint yon auld fail dyke, I wot there lies a new-slain knight; And naebody kens that he lies there But his hawk and his hound and his lady fair. "His hound is to the hunting gane, His hawk to fetch the wild fowl hame, His lady has ta'en another mate, Sae we may mak' our denner sweet. "Ye'll sit on his white hause-bane, And I'll pike out his bonny blue een, Wi' ae lock o' his gowden hair We'll theek our nest when it grows bare. "Mony a ane for him maks mane, But nane sall ken where he is gane; Ower his white banes when they are bare The wind sall blaw for evermair." 219 - LORD RANDAL "OH, where have you been, Lord Randal, my son? Oh, where have you been, my handsome young man?" "I hae been to the wild wood; mother, mak' my bed soon; For I'm weary wi' hunting, and fain wad lie doun." "Where gat ye your dinner, Lord Randal, my son? Where gat ye your dinner, my handsome young man?" "I dined wi' my true love; mother, mak' my bed soon; For I'm weary wi' hunting, and fain wad lie doun." "What gat ye to your dinner, Lord Randal, my son? What gat ye to your dinner, my handsome young man?" "I gat eels boiled in broo; mother, mak' my bed soon; For I'm weary wi' hunting, and fain wad lie doun." "What became of your bloodhounds, Lord Randal, my son? What became of your bloodhounds, my handsome young man?" "Oh, they swelled and they dee'd; mother, mak' my bed soon; For I'm weary wi' hunting, and fain wad lie doun." "Oh, I fear ye are poisoned, Lord Randal, my son! Oh, I fear ye are poisoned, my handsome young man!" "Oh, yes, I am poisoned; mother, mak' my bed soon; For I'm sick at the heart, and fain wad lie doun." 220 - YOUTH AND DEATH O THEN bespake her little son, =Sat on the nurse's knee: Says, "Mither dear, gie owre this house, =For the reek it smithers me." "I wad gie a' my gowd, my bairn, =Sae wad I a' my fee, For ae blast o' the western wind, =To blaw the reek frae thee." O then bespake her dochter dearó =She was baith jump and sma': "O row me in a pair o' sheets, =And tow me owre the wa'." They row'd her in a pair o' sheets, =And tow'd her owre the wa'; But on the point o' Gordon's spear =She gat a deadly fa.' O bonnie, bonnie was her mouth, =And cherry were her cheeks, And clear, clear was her yellow hair, =Whereon the red bluid dreips. Then wi' his spear he turn'd her owre; =O gin her face was wan! He said, "Ye are the first that e'er =I wished alive again." He turn'd her owre and owre again; =O gin her skin was white! "I might hae spared that bonnie face =To hae been some man's delight. "Busk and boun, my merry men a', =For ill dooms I do guess; I canna look in that bonnie face =As it lies on the grass." 221 - BONNIE GEORGE CAMPBELL HIE upon Hielands, =And laigh upon Tay, Bonnie George Campbell =Rode out on a day. He saddled, he bridled, =And gallant rode he; And hame cam his guid horse, =But never cam he. Out cam his mother dear, =Greetin' fu' sair; And out cam his bonnie bride =Rivin' her hair. "The meadow lies green, =The corn is unshorn; But bonnie George Campbell =Will never return." Saddled and bridled =And booted rode he, A plume in his helmet, =A sword at his knee. But toom cam his saddle =All bluidy to see; Oh, hame cam his guid horse, =But never cam he. 222 - ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF BERNARD STEWART, LORD OF AUBIGNY O DUILFULL death! O dragon dolorous! =Why hes thow done so dulfullie devoir The prince of knychtheid, nobill and chivilrous, =The witt of weiris, of armes and honour, =The crop of curage, the strenth of armes in stour, The fame of France, the fame of Lumbardy, =The choiss of chiftanes, most awfull in armour, The charbunckell, cheif of every chevilrie! Pray now for him, all that him loveit heir! =And for his saull mak intercessioun Unto the Lord that hes him bocht so deir, =To gif him mercie and remissioun, =And namelie we of Scottis natioun, Intill his lyff whom most he did affy, =Foryett we nevir into our orisoun To pray for him, the hour of chivelrie. =======_William Dunbar_. 223 - HELEN OF KIRKCONNEL I WISH I were where Helen lies, Where night and day on me she cries; Oh that I were where Helen lies, =On fair Kirkconnel lea! Oh, Helen fair, beyond compare, I'll mak' a garland o' thy hair, Shall bind my heart for evermair, =Until the day I dee. Oh, think na ye my heart was sair, When my love dropt and spoke nae mair? She sank, and swoon'd wi' mickle care =On fair Kirkconnel lee. Curst be the heart that thocht the thocht, And curst the hand that shot the shot, When in my arms burd Helen dropt, =And died to succour me. As I went down the water side None but my foe to be my guide, None but my foe to be my guide, =On fair Kirkconnel lee; I lichtit doun, my sword did draw, I hackit him in pieces sma', I hackit him in pieces sma'. =For her sake that died for me. Oh that I were where Helen lies! Nicht and day on me she cries, Out of my bed she bids me rise: ="Oh come, my love, to me!" Oh, Helen fair! oh, Helen chaste! If I were with thee I were blest, Where thou lies low, and takes thy rest, =On fair Kirkconnel lee. I wish my grave were growin' green, A windin' sheet drawn ower my een, And I in Helen's arms lying, =On fair Kirkconnel lee. I wish I were where Helen lies; Nicht and day on me she cries; I'm sick of all beneath the skies, =Since my love died for me. 224 - THE BONNIE EARL OF MORAY YE Highland and ye Lawlands, =Oh! where hae ye been? They hae slain the Earl of Moray, =And hae laid him on the green. Now wae be to thee, Huntly, =And wherefore did you sae? I bade you bring him wi' you, =But forbade you him to slay. He was a braw gallant, =And he rid at the ring; And the bonnie Earl of Moray, =Oh! he might hae been a king. He was a braw gallant, =And he play'd at the ba'; And the bonnie Earl of Moray =Was the flower amang them a'. He was a braw gallant, =And he play'd at the glove; And the bonnie Earl of Moray, =Oh! he was the Queen's luve. Oh! lang will his lady =Look owre the castle Doune, Ere she see the Earl of Moray =Come sounding thro' the toun. 225 - THE LOWLANDS OF HOLLAND MY love he's built a bonnie ship, and set her on the sea, With seven score guid mariners to bear her companie. There's three score is sunk, and three score dead at sea; And the Lowlands of Holland hae twined my love and me. My love he built another ship, and set her on the main, And nane but twenty mariners for to bring her hame; But the weary wind began to rise, and the sea began to rout; My love then, and his bonnie ship, turned withershins about. There shall neither coif come on my head, nor kame come in my hair; There shall neither coal nor candle-licht come in my bower mair; Nor will I love another man until the day I dee. For I never loved a love but ane, and he's drown'd in the sea. O haud your tongue, my daughter dear, be still and be content; There are mair lads in Galloway, ye need na sair lament. O! there is nane in Galloway, there's nane at a' for me; For I never loved a love but ane, and he's drown'd in the sea. 226 - THE LAMENT OF THE BORDER WIDOW My love he built me a bonnie bower, And clad it a' wi' lilye flower; A brawer bower ye ne'er did see Than my true love he built for me. There came a man, by middle day, He spied his sport, and went away; And brought the king that very night, Who brake my bower, and slew my knight. He slew my knight, to me sae dear; He slew my knight, and poin'd his gear. My servants all for life did flee, And left me in extremitie. I sewed his sheet, making my maen; I watched the corpse, myself alane; I watched his body night and dar; No living creature came that way. I took his body on my back, And whiles I gaed, and whiles I sat; I digg'd a grave and laid him in, And happ'd him with the sod sae green. But think na ye my heart was sair When I laid the moul' on his yellow hair? O think na ye my heart was wae When I turn's about, awa' to gae? Nae living man I'll love again, Since that my lovely knight is slain. Wi' ae lock of his yellow hair I'll chain my heart for evermair. 227 - DROWNED IN YARROW WILLY'S rare, and Willy's fair, =And Willy's wondrous bonny; And Willy hecht to marry me =Gin e'er he married ony. Yestreen I made my bed fu' braid, =This night I'll make it narrow; For a' the live-lang winter night =I lie twin'd of my marrow. O came you by yon water-side, =Pou'd you the rose or lily? Or came you by yon meadow green? =Or saw you my sweet Willy? She sought him east, she sought him west, =She sought him braid and narrow; Syne in the cleaving of a craig =She found him drown'd in Yarrow. 228 - BESSIE BELL AND MARY GRAY O BESSIE BELL and MARY GRAY, =They war twa bonnie lasses; They bigget a bower on yon burn-brae, =And theekit it ower wi' rashes. They theekit it ower wi' rashes green, =They theekit it ower wi' heather; But the pest cam frae the burrows-tound, =And slew them baith thegither. They thought to lie in Methven kirkyard =Amang their noble kin; But they maun lie in Stronach haugh =To biek forenent the sin. And Bessie Bell and Mary Gray =They war twa bonnie lasses; They bigget a bower on yon burn-brae, =And theekit it ower wi' rashes. 229 - MACPHERSON'S FAREWELL FAREWELL, ye dungeons dark and strong, =The wretch's destinie! Macpherson's time will not be long =On yonder gallows-tree. ==Sae rantingly, sae wantonly, ===Sae dauntingly gaed he; ==He play'd a spring, and danc'd it round, ===Below the gallows-tree. Oh! what is death but parting breath? =On mony a bloddy plain I've dar'd his face, and in this place =I scorn him yet again! Untie these bands from off my hands, =And bring to me my sword! And there's no a man in all Scotland =But I'll brave him at a word. I've lived a life of sturt and strife; =I die by treacherie: It burns my heart I must depart, =And not avenged be. Now farewell light-thou sunshine bright, =And all beneath the sky! May coward shame distain his name, =The wretch that dares not die! =======_Robert Burns_. 230 - KIRKBRIDE BURY me in Kirkbride, =Where the Lord's redeemed anes lie! The auld kirkyaird on the grey hillside ==Under the open sky; ==Under the open sky, =On the briest o' the brae sae steep, And side by side wi' the banes that lie =Streikt there in their hinmaist sleep. This puir dune body maun sune be dust, =But it thrills wi' a stoun' o' pride To ken it may mix with the great and just =That slumber in thee, Kirkbride. . . . Wheesht! did the saft win' speak? =Or yaumerin' nicht bird cry? Did I dream that a warm haun touch't my cheek, ==And a winsome face gaed by? ==And a winsome face gaed by, =Wi' a far-aff licht in its een- A licht that bude come frae the dazzlin' sky, =For it spak' o' the starnies' sheen. Age may be donart, and dazed, and blin', =But I'se warrant, whate'er betide, A true heart there made tryst wi' my ain, =And the tryst-word seem'd "Kirkbride." Hark! frae the far hilltaps, =And laich frae the lanesome glen, Some sweet psalm tune, like a late dew, draps ==Its wild notes doun the win'; ==Its wild notes doun the win', =Wi' a kent soun' owre my min', For we sang't on the muir, a wheen huntit men, =Wi' oor lives in oor haun langsyne; But never a voice can disturb this sang, =Were it Claver'se in a' his pride, For it's raised by the Lord's ain ransomed thrang =Forgethered abune Kirkbride. I hear May Moril's tongue =That I wistna to hear again, And there-'twas the Black M'Michael's rung ==Clear in the closin' strain; ==Clear in the closin' strain, =Frae his big heart bauld and true; It stirs my saul as in days bygane, =When his guid braidsword he drew; I needs be aff to the muirs ance mair. =For he'll miss me by his side; I' the thrang o' the battle I aye was there, =And sae maun it be in Kirkbride. Rax me my staff and plaid, =That in readiness I may be, And dinna forget that The Book be laid ==Open across my knee; ==Open across my knee, =And a text close by my thoom. And tell me true, for I scarce can see, =That the words are, "Lo! I come;" Then carry through at the cample ford, =And up by the lang hillside, And I'll wait for the comin' o' God the Lord =In a neuk o' auld Kirkbride. =======_Robert Burns_. 231 - THE WAN MOON IS SETTING BEHIND THE WHITE WAVE O, OPEN the door, some pity to show, =If love it may na be, O! Tho' thou hast been false, I'll ever prove true, =O, open the door to me, O! Cauld is the blast upon my pale cheek, =But caulder thy love for me, O! The frost that freezes the life at my heart =Is naught to my pains frae thee, O! The wan moon is setting behind the white wave, =And Time is setting with me, O! False friends, false love, farewell! for mair =I'll ne'er trouble them nor thee, O! She has open'd the door, she has open'd it wide; =She sees the pale corse on the plain, O! My true love! she cried, and sank down by his side =Never to rise again, O! =======_Robert Burns_. 232 - THE FA' O' THE YEAR AFORE the Lammas tide =Had dun'd the birken tree, In a' our water-side =Nae wife was blest like me; A kind gudeman, and twa =Sweet bairns were round me here, But they're a' ta'en awa' =Sin' the fa' o' the year. Sair trouble cam' our gate, =And made me, when it cam', A bird without a mate, =A ewe without a lamb. Our hay was yet to maw, =And oue corn was to shear, When they a' dwined awa' =In the fa' o' the year. I downa look a-field, =For aye I trow I see The form that was a bield =To my wee bairns and me; But wind, and weet, and snaw, =They never mair can fear, Sin' they a' got the ca' =In the fa' o' the year. Aft on the hills at e'ens =I see him 'mang the ferns, The lover o' my teens, =The father o' my bairns: For there his plaid I saw =As gloamin' aye drew near- But my a's now awa' =Sin' the fa' o' the year. Our bonnie rigs theirsel', =Reca' my waes to mind, Our puir dumb beasties tell =O' a' that I have tined; For what our wheat will saw, =And wha our sheep will shear, Sin' my a' gaed awa' =In the fa' o' the year? My heart is growing cauld, =And will be caulder still; And sair, sair in the fauld =Will be the winter's chill; For peats were yet to ca', =Our sheep they were to smear, When my a' passed awa' =In the fa' o' the year. I ettle whiles to spin, =But wee, wee patterin' feet Come rinnin' out and in, =And then I just maun greet: I ken it's fancy a', =And faster rowes the tear, That my a' dwined awa' =In the fa' o' the year. Be kind, I Heaven abune! =To ane sae wae and lane, An' tak' her hamewards sune, =In pity o' her maen; Long ere the March winds blaw, =May she, far, far, frae here, Meet them a' that's awa' =Sin' the fa' o' the year. =======_Thomas Smibert_. 233 - THE LAST O' THE TINKLER LAY me in yon place, lad, =The gloamin's thick wi' nicht; I canna' see yer face, lad, =For my een's no richt. But it's ower late for leein', An' I ken fine I'm deein', Like an auld craw fleein' =To the last o' the licht. The kye gang to the byre, lad, =An' the sheep to the fauld, Ye'll mak' a spunk o' fire, lad, =For my he'rt's turned cauld; An' whaur the trees are meetin', There's a sound like waters beatin', An' the bird seems near to greetin', =That was aye singin' bauld. There's jist the tent to leave, lad, =I've gaithered little gear, There's jist yersel' to grieve, lad, =An' the auld dog here: An' when the morn comes creepin' An' the wauk'nin' birds are cheipin', It'll find me lyin' sleepin' =As I've slept saxty year. Ye'll rise to meet the sun, lad, =An' baith be traiv'lin west, But me that's auld an' done, lad, =I'll bide an' tak' my rest; For the grey heid is bendin', An' the auld shune's needin' mendin', But the traiv'lin's near its' endin', =And the end's aye the best. =======_Violet Jacob_. 234 - THE GREEN GRASS THE dead spake together last night, =And one to the other side: ="Why are we dead?" They turned them face to face about =In the place where they were laid: ="Why are we dead?" "This is the sweet, sweet month o' May, =And the grass is green o'erhead- =Why are we dead? "The grass grows green on the long, long tracks =That I shall never tread- =Why are we dead? "The lamp shines like the glow-worm spark, =From the bield where I was bred- =Why am I dead?" The other spake: "I've wife and weans, =Yet I lie in this waesome bed- =Why am I dead? "O, I hae wife and weans at hame, =And they clamour loud for bread- =Why am I dead?" Quoth the first : "I have sweet, sweet heart, =And this night we should hae wed- =Why am I dead? "And I can see another man =Will mate her in my stead, =Now I am dead." They turned them back to back about =In the grave where they were laidó ="Why are we dead?" "I mind o' a field, a foughten field, =Where the bluid ran routh and redó =Now I am dead." "I mind o' a field, a stricken field, =And a waeful wound that bledó =Now I am dead." They turned them on their backs again, =As when their souls had sped, =And nothing further said. ====*=*=*=*=* The dead spake together last night, =And each to the other said, ="_Why are we dead?_" =======_Joseph Lee_. 235 - THE SEASON FOR DEATH ====(1) MONY a year, mony a year, =Hae I seen the snaw awa', =Hae I seen the primrose blaw And the bud upon the brier. Mony a year, mony a year, =Yule has brocht the thocht anew, =If my strength wad bear me through, If the spring wad see me here. Aft, when winter trailed awa' =And the flowers were round my feet, =Stood I 'tween the lauch and greet, Half believin' a' I saw. Aft, when bare was blawn the tree, =And the flowers were a' laid by, =Hae I braced mysel' to sigh, "Ay, it's by wi' flowers for me!" Then I wad been blithe to gang; =But I canna think to sleep =When I hear at mornin' peep Some bit mavie at his sang. =======_Walter Wingate_. ====(2) GANE were but the winter cauld, =And gane were but the snaw, I could sleep in the wild woods =Where the primroses blaw. =======_Allan Cunningham_. 236 - ANE BY ANE ANE by ane they gang awa', The Gatherer gathers great an sma', Ane by ane mak's ane an' a'. Aye when ane sets doun the cup, Ane ahint maun tak' it up, Yet thegither they will sup. Golden-heided, ripe an' strang, Shorn will be the hairst ere lang, Syne begins a better sang! =======_George Macdonald_. 237 - THE LAND O' THE LEAL I'M wearin' awa', John, Like snaw-wreaths in thaw, John; I'm wearin' awa' =To the land o' the leal. There's nae sorrow there, John, There's neither cauld nor care, John: The day is aye fair =In the land o' the leal. Our bonnie bairn's there, John, She was baith gude and fair, John; And oh! we grudged her sair =To the land o' the leal. But sorrow's sel' wears past, John, And joy 's a-comin' fast, Johnó The joy that's aye to last =In the land o' the leal. Sae dear 's that joy was bought, John, Sae free the battle fought, John, That sinfu' man e'er brought =To the land o' the leal. Oh, dry your glist'ning e'e, John! My saul langs to be free, John; And angels beckon me =To the land o' the leal. Oh, haud ye leal and true, John! Your day it's wearin' thro', John; And I'll welcome you =To the land o' the leal. Now fare ye weel, my ain John, This warld's cares are vain, John; We'll meet, and we'll be fain =In the land o' the leal. =======_Lady Nairne_. 238 - O HAPPIE DEATH O HAPPIE death, to life the readie way, =The ende of greefe, and salve of sorrowes all; O pleasant sleepe, thy paines they are bot play; =Thy coup is sweete, although it taste of gall. =Thou brings the bound and wretched out of thrall Within the port sure from the stormie blast, =For after death na mischiefe may befall, But wo, wan-chance, and perrels all are past. Of kindelie death nane suld affraied be But sich as hope for na felicitie. =======_Alexander Hume_.