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I

FAIR HELEN

WISH I were where Helen lies;

Night and day on me she cries; O that 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,
None but my foe to be my guide,
None but my foe to be my guide,
On fair Kirconnell lea;

I lighted down my sword to draw,
I hacked him in pieces sma',
I hacked him in pieces sma',

For her sake that died for me.

O Helen fair, beyond compare!
I'll make a garland of thy hair
Shall bind my heart for evermair
Until the day I die.

O that I were where Helen lies!
Night and day on me she cries;
Out of my bed she bids me rise,
Says, Haste and come to me!'

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O Helen fair! O Helen chaste!
If I were with thee, I were blest,
Where thou lies low and takes thy rest
On fair Kirconnell lea.

I wish my grave were growing green,
A winding-sheet drawn ower my een,
And I in Helen's arms lying,

On fair Kirconnell lea.

I wish I were where Helen lies;
Night and day on me she cries;
And I am weary of the skies,

Since my Love died for me.

ANON.

Суш

THE TWA CORBIES

S I was walking all alane

As

I heard twa corbies making a mane;

The tane unto the t'other say,

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'Where sall we gang and dine to-day?

In behint yon auld fail dyke

I wot there lies a new-slain Knight;

And naebody kens that he lies there,
But his hawk, his hound, and lady fair.

"His hound is to the hunting gane, His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame, His lady's ta'en another mate,

So we may mak our dinner sweet.

'Ye 'll sit on his white hause-bane,

And I'll pick out his bonnie blue een:
Wi' ae lock o' his gowden hair

We'll theek our nest when it grows bare.

'Mony a one for him makes mane, But nane sall ken where he is gane;

O'er his white banes, when they are bare,

The wind sall blaw for evermair.'

CIX

FAIR

TO BLOSSOMS

AIR pledges of a fruitful tree,
Why do ye fall so fast?

Your date is not so past,

But you may stay yet here awhile

To blush and gently smile,
And go at last.

What, were ye born to be

An hour or half's delight,

And so to bid good-night?

"T was pity Nature brought ye forth

Merely to show your worth,

And lose you quite.

ANON.

But you are lovely leaves, where we
May read how soon things have

Their end, though ne'er so brave: And after they have shown their pride Like you, awhile, they glide

Into the grave.

We have short time to stay, as you,
We have as short a Spring!

As quick a growth to meet decay
As you, or any thing.

We die,

As your hours do, and dry

Away

Like to the Summer's rain;

Or as the pearls of morning's dew

Ne'er to be found again.

R. HERRICK

CXI

THOUGHTS IN A GARDEN

How

vainly men themselves amaze

To win the palm, the oak, or bays,

And their incessant labours see

Crown'd from some single herb or tree, Whose short and narrow-vergéd shade Does prudently their toils upbraid; While all the flowers and trees do close To weave the garlands of Repose.

Fair Quiet, have I found thee here,
And Innocence thy sister dear?
Mistaken long, I sought you then
In busy companies of men:
Your sacred plants, if here below,
Only among the plants will grow:
Society is all but rude

To this delicious solitude.

No white nor red was ever seen

So amorous as this lovely green.

Fond lovers, cruel as their flame,

Cut in these trees their mistress' name:
Little, alas, they know or heed
How far these beauties her exceed!
Fair trees! where'er your barks I wound,
No name shall but your own be found.

When we have run our passions' heat
Love hither makes his best retreat:
The gods, who mortal beauty chase,
Still in a tree did end their race;