Margaret Winefride Simpson

MADRIGAL (Gutierre de Cetina: 1520-1560)

BRICHT een, clear een, whaurfore at me
Leuk--gin ye leuk ava--wi angry gaze
Gin for sweet, gentle leuks ye win sic praise?
Gin hantle fairer to the sicht
When kin'lier yer glance in truith ye seem
Bendna on me yon wrathfu gleam,
For ne'er less luvely maun appear yer licht!
Ah, wae is me! This maddenin plicht!
Bricht een, clear een! But leuk at me
At least--sin sic a leuk is a' ye gie!

SONNET (Don Pedro Calderon de la Barca: 1600-1681)

TAHT waukened to the dawin's rosy grace
Wi herts fou heich an vantie, blythe an free,
Evenin in plicht gey peetifu sall see
Faulded to sleep in cauldrife nicht's embrace!
Yon colours vyin in the lift for place,
Yon rainbow's siller, gowd, an cramasie,
Sall o this human life example be:
Encumbered wi sae much is ae day's space!
To flouer in freshness waukened ilka rose,
An ilk ane flouered its freshness but to tine!
Baith grave an cradle in a bud repose.
Their fortunes, born that day whilk saw them dwine,
Men hae beheld brief-flouerin as thae!
Centuries hae flurished on the oors' decline.

SPRING SANG (Don Pablo Piferrer: 1817-1848)

Noo returns the merry Spring
(Pipe fou free, an dance fou fain!)
Ower the hauchs to spreid an fling
The green new goon o hope again.
Warmly blaws the breezes noo:
(Pipe fou free, an dance fou fain!)
Swiftly passes the cloods, an blue
Shows the lifts o hope again.
Blythely smiles the buddin flouer:
(Pipe fou free, an dance fou fain!)
Liltin waters sings the pouer-
The blessed pouer o hope again.
Warblin hear ye in the air?
(Pipe fou free, an dance fou fain!)
The swallae welcomes back ance mair,
Returned on wings o hope again!
Shy young lassie, fond an true,
(Pipe fou free, an dance fou fain!)
Mey brings festival to you
To fulfil yer hope again!
Luve attour the hale earth lies:
(Pipe fou free, an dance fou fain!)
Quickenin fragrances arise
To the hert o hope again.
There's soon' an green ilk gate in rowth:
(Pipe fou free, an dance fou fain!)
The greater soon', the greener growth,
The greater growes ilk hope again.
Sweets o colour, soon', an scent,
(Pipe fou free, an dance fou fain!)
Whilk in sangs o luve are blent,
Beget the sang o hope again.
By sall wier the merry Spring:
(Pipe fou free, an dance fou fain!)
But ilk year to the hauchs sall bring
The braw new goon o hope again.
The innocence o life, alack!

(The pipe forhoo--the dance refrain!)

Ance tint--like mine!--comes never back:
Wae's me! Gin mine were hope again!

SLUMBERIN MUISIC (Don Gustavo A. Becquer: 1836-1870)

IT staun's hine in the mirk neuk o the ha',
Aiblins forgotten bi its maister there,
The herp, dust-laden, quait, for whilk awa
Slow years to auld age wiers.
As 'mang the bous the sang-bird slumbers deep
Sae 'mang its strings haes muisic lain asleep
Waitin the snaw-white haun thats canny skill
Sall woo it furth ance mair!
"Alack!" thocht I, "hoo aft dis it befa'
Sae in the saul's depth genius unawaur
Slumbers, an waits like Lazarus to share
The biddin: ‘Rise! Furth noo be free to fare!'"

LUVE ONKENT (Don Manuel del Palacio: 1832-1906)

THY silent lattices hae heard me gae
Tellin my tale o true luve fond an fain;
Or noo the muin's been witness o my pain,
Companion o the dowie an the wae:
A sang re-echoin thy name sae dear
Ilk day to me fou sweet yon blythe bird sings;
An aye my luvin lilts an lichtsome springs
Fill hauch an hill an countryside wi cheer:
A' kens save thee the secret I disclose,
Withoot my will tho it proclaimed sall be
To thee bi this the hert whaur passion glows:
Aiblins onkent it sall be aye to thee,
As tribute frae the burn for ever flows
Onkent aye to the swift waves o the sea.

YOUR EEN (Ramon Rodriguez Correa)

IT'S nae yer throat sae snawy-fair,
Yer bonnie lips sae rosy-bricht,
It's nae your broo nor shinin hair;
Fair lass, that sae my hert ensnares;
It's your dear een is my delyte!
In gratitude it seems they seek
Perchance to gie my pain devaul,
An drousily the secrets speaks
Whilk, stowlins hid whaur nane mey keek,
Their awner cairies in her saul.
Scarce answer mair yer lips haes gien
Save ower an ower a falterin' "Na!":
Weel, leein then your lips haes been,
For weel bi your twa tell-tale een
I kent I was yer only jo!
Yer wirds I gie but little heed;
Yer true een sic desire compels
On them my worship waits indeed:
Aiblins yer wirds mey whiles mislead,
But lees yer een can never tell!