And lang, lang, may the maidens sit, For them they'll see nae mair. O forty miles off Aberdeen 'Tis fifty fathoms deep And there lies gude sir Patrick Spens, THE DOUGLAS TRAGEDY "RISE up, rise up, now, Lord Douglas,” she says, Let it never be said that a daughter of thine "Rise up, rise up, my seven bold sons, And put on your armour so bright, He's mounted her on a milk-white steed, With a bugelet horn hung down by his side, And lightly they rode away. 100 5 10 Lord William lookit o'er his left shoulder, To see what he could see, And there he spy'd her seven brethren bold, 15 Come riding o'er the lee. "Light down, light down, lady Marg'ret," he said, "And hold my steed in your hand, Until that against your seven brethren bold, And your father, I make a stand.". 20 She held his steed in her milk-white hand, Until that she saw her seven brethren fa' And her father hard fighting, who loved her so dear. "O hold your hand, Lord William!" she said, "For your strokes they are wondrous sair; 25 True lovers I can get many a ane But a father I can never get mair." O, she's ta'en out her handkerchief, It was o' the holland sae fine; 30 And aye she dighted her father's bloody wounds, "O chuse, O chuse, lady Margret," he said, He's lifted her on a milk-white steed, With a bugelet horn hung down by his side, O they rade on, and on they rade, They lighted down to take a drink Of the spring that ran sae clear, And down the stream ran his gude heart's blood, And sair she 'gan to fear. 35 40 45 "Hold up, hold up, lord William," she says, "For I fear that you are slain!". ""Tis naething but the shadow of my scarlet cloak, That shines on the water sae plain.". O they rade on, and on they rade, 50 And a' by the light of the moon, Until they came to his mother's ha' door, 55 "Get up, get up, lady mother," he says, "Get up, and let me in! Get up, get up, lady mother," he says, 60 "O mak my bed, lady mother," he says, Lord William was dead lang ere midnight, 65 And all true lovers that go togither, May they have mair luck than they! Lord William was buried in St. Marie's kirk, Out o' the lady's grave grew a bonny red rose, And out o' the knight's a brier. And they twa met, and they twa plat, 70 And a' the warld might ken right weel, 75 But bye and rade the Black Douglas, For he pull'd up the bonny brier, 80 THOMAS THE RYMER TRUE Thomas lay o'er yond grassy bank, A ladie that was brisk and bold, Her skirt was of the grass-green silk, 5 Her mantle of the velvet fine, At ilka tett of her horse's mane Hung fifty silver bells and nine. True Thomas he took off his hat And bowed him low down till his knee: 'All hail, thou mighty Queen of Heaven! For your peer on earth I never did see.' 'O no, O no, True Thomas,' she says, 'That name does not belong to me; I am but the queen of fair Elfland, And I'm come here for to visit thee. 'Harp and carp, Thomas,' she said, 'Betide me weal, betide me woe, That weird shall never daunton me;' Syne he has kissed her rosy lips All underneath the Eildon Tree. 10 15 20 'But ye maun go wi' me now, Thomas, True Thomas, ye maun go wi' me, For ye maun serve me seven years, Thro' weel or wae as may chance to be.' She turned about her milk-white steed, And took True Thomas up behind, And aye when e'er her bridle rang, For forty days and forty nights He wade thro' red blude to the knee, And he saw neither sun nor moon, But heard the roaring of the sea. O they rade on and further on, Until they came to a garden green: 'Light down, light down, ye ladie free, Some of that fruit let me pull to thee.' O no, O no, True Thomas,' she says, 25 30 35 40 For a' the plagues that are in hell But I have a loaf here in my lap, 45 Likewise a bottle of claret wine, And here ere we go farther on, We'll rest a while, and ye may dine.' When he had eaten and drunk his fill, 'Lay down your head upon my knee,' The lady sayd, 'ere we climb yon hill, And I will show you ferlies three. 50 |