 | Poems by Three Friends |  |
42
THE BARD OF YARROW;
A TRIBUTE TO THE MEMORY OF WILLIAM HAMILTON, Author of the beautiful Song, after the ancient Scotish manner, entitled “THE BRAES OF YARROW.”
Weep ye, weep ye, my fair Scotish maids,
Weep ye, weep ye with dule and sorrow,
Weep ye, weep ye my fair Scotish maids,
Fast flow your tears by the Braes of Yarrow.
Weep ye, weep ye with dule and sorrow,
Weep ye, weep ye my fair Scotish maids,
Fast flow your tears by the Braes of Yarrow.
Why should they weep, the fair Scotish maids,
Why should they weep with dule and sorrow?
Hushed, ah hushed are the sweetly-plaintive notes,
Hushed are the notes of the Bard of Yarrow.
Why should they weep with dule and sorrow?
Hushed, ah hushed are the sweetly-plaintive notes,
Hushed are the notes of the Bard of Yarrow.
43
Ah why does his reed, his reed no more
Echo the lay that softens sorrow,
And bids flow the tear—ah why, ah why
Hushed are the notes of the Bard of Yarrow?
Echo the lay that softens sorrow,
And bids flow the tear—ah why, ah why
Hushed are the notes of the Bard of Yarrow?
Yes they shall flow, the tears shall flow,
Flow o'er the lay that softens sorrow,
For cold is his hand, and low lies the Bard,
Where murmurs the rippling wave of Yarrow.
Flow o'er the lay that softens sorrow,
For cold is his hand, and low lies the Bard,
Where murmurs the rippling wave of Yarrow.
Sweet, ah sweet are the earliest flowers
That Spring in her wild forest-glen discloses,
The orchis that blooms with the green-mantled lily,
And gay daffodils with the pale primroses.
That Spring in her wild forest-glen discloses,
The orchis that blooms with the green-mantled lily,
And gay daffodils with the pale primroses.
As sweet was his song, but the loveliest flower,
Blossoms to day, and dies to morrow:
Not so his lay, it shall live for ever,
The lay that has told of the Braes of Yarrow.
Blossoms to day, and dies to morrow:
Not so his lay, it shall live for ever,
The lay that has told of the Braes of Yarrow.
44
Sweet o'er his tomb let the wild rose blossom,
His green sod be spangled with daisies fair,
But weed ye, weed ye the noxious nettle,
And let not the nightshade flourish there.
His green sod be spangled with daisies fair,
But weed ye, weed ye the noxious nettle,
And let not the nightshade flourish there.
And gather, gather, ye maidens gather
Around his grave with dule and sorrow,
Oft let the loveliest forms of beauty,
Bend o'er his tomb by the Braes of Yarrow.
Around his grave with dule and sorrow,
Oft let the loveliest forms of beauty,
Bend o'er his tomb by the Braes of Yarrow.
There weep ye, weep ye my fair Scotish maids,
Weep ye, weep ye with dule and sorrow,
Weep ye, weep ye, my fair Scotish maids,
Fast flow your tears for the Bard of Yarrow.
Weep ye, weep ye with dule and sorrow,
Weep ye, weep ye, my fair Scotish maids,
Fast flow your tears for the Bard of Yarrow.
| Poems by Three Friends | |