There was Father Auld himsel',
The Lombard frae the hostelry,
And the lawyer Peter Fell.

All goodly men we singled out,
Waled them well, and singled out,
And drew them by the left hand in;
Mysie the priest, and Elspie won
The Lombard, Nort the lawyer carle,
I mysel' the provost's son.

Then, with cantrip kisses seven,

Three times round with kisses seven,
Warp'd and woven there spun we
Arms and legs and flaming hair,
Like a whirlwind on the sea.

Like a wind that sucks the sea,

Over and in and on the sea,
Good sooth it was a mad delight;
And every man of all the four
Shut his eyes and laugh'd outright.

Laugh'd as long as they had breath,

Laugh'd while they had sense or breath;

And close about us coil'd a mist

Of gnats and midges, wasps and flies,
Like the whirlwind shaft it rist.

Drawn up I was right off my feet,
Into the mist and off my feet;
And, dancing on each chimney-top,
I saw a thousand darling imps
Keeping time with skip and hop.

stour] dust.

And on the provost's brave ridge-tile,
On the provost's grand ridge-tile,
The Blackamoor first to master me
I saw, I saw that winsome smile,
The mouth that did my heart beguile,
And spoke the great Word over me,
In the land beyond the sea.

I call'd his name, I call'd aloud,
Alas! I call'd on him aloud;
And then he fill'd his hand with stour,
And threw it towards me in the air;
My mouse flew out, I lost my pow'r!

My lusty strength, my power were gone;
Power was gone, and all was gone.
He will not let me love him more!
Of bell and whip and horse's tail
He cares not if I find a store.

But I am proud if he is fierce!

I am as proud as he is fierce;
I'll turn about and backward go,
If I meet again that Blackamoor,

And he'll help us then, for he shall know
I seek another paramour.

And we'll gang once more to yon town,
Wi' better luck to yon town;

We'll walk in silk and cramoisie,
And I shall wed the provost's son
My lady of the town I'll be!

cramoisie] crimson.

732.

For I was born a crown'd king's child,
Born and nursed a king's child,
King o' a land ayont the sea,
Where the Blackamoor kiss'd me first,
And taught me art and glamourie.

Each one in her wame shall hide

Her hairy mouse, her wary mouse,
Fed on madwort and agramie,-
Wear amber beads between her breasts,
And blind-worm's skin about her knee.

The Lombard shall be Elspie's man,
Elspie's gowden husband-man;
Nort shall take the lawyer's hand;
The priest shall swear another vow:
We'll dance again the saraband!

AUBREY DE VERE

Serenade

SOFTLY, O midnight Hours!

Move softly o'er the bowers

Where lies in happy sleep a girl so fair!

For ye have power, men say,

Our hearts in sleep to sway,

And cage cold fancies in a moonlight snare.

Round ivory neck and arm

Enclasp a separate charm;

1814-1902

Hang o'er her poised, but breathe nor sigh nor prayer:

Silently ye may smile,

But hold your breath the while,

And let the wind sweep back your cloudy hair!

ayont] beyond.

glamourie] wizardry.

Bend down your glittering urns,

Ere yet the dawn returns,

And star with dew the lawn her feet shall tread;
Upon the air rain balm,

Bid all the woods be calm,

Ambrosial dreams with healthful slumbers wed;

That so the Maiden may

With smiles your care repay,

When from her couch she lifts her golden head;
Waking with earliest birds,

Ere yet the misty herds

Leave warm 'mid the gray grass their dusky bed.

COUNT each affliction, whether light or grave,
God's messenger sent down to thee; do thou
With courtesy receive him; rise and bow;
And, ere his shadow pass thy threshold, crave
Permission first his heavenly feet to lave;

Then lay before him all thou hast; allow
No cloud of passion to usurp thy brow,
Or mar thy hospitality; no wave

Of mortal tumult to obliterate

The soul's marmoreal calmness: Grief should be, Like joy, majestic, equable, sedate;

Confirming, cleansing, raising, making free;

Strong to consume small troubles; to commend

Great thoughts, grave thoughts, thoughts lasting to the end.

734.

ON

GEORGE FOX

The County of Mayo

FROM THE IRISH OF THOMAS LAVELLE

1815-?

N the deck of Patrick Lynch's boat I sat in woful plight, Through my sighing all the weary day and weeping all the night;

Were it not that full of sorrow from my people forth I go, By the blessed sun! 'tis royally I'd sing thy praise, Mayo!

When I dwelt at home in plenty, and my gold did much abound,

In the company of fair young maids the Spanish ale went round

'Tis a bitter change from those gay days that now I'm forced to go

And must leave my bones in Santa Cruz, far from my own

Mayo.

They are alter'd girls in Irrul now; 'tis proud they'r grown and high,

With their hair-bags and their top-knots, for I pass their buckles by

But it's little now I heed their airs, for God will have it so. That I must depart for foreign lands and leave my sweet Mayo.

'Tis my grief that Patrick Loughlin is not Earl of Irru! still, And that Brian Duff no longer rules as Lord upon the hill: And that Colonel Hugh McGrady should be lying dead! and low,

And I sailing, sailing swiftly from the county of Mayo.