The Poetical Works of William Julius Mickle including several original pieces, with a new life of the author. By the Rev. John Sim |
 |
|
|
|
|
ESKDALE BRAES
. |
|
|
|
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
|
 | The Poetical Works of William Julius Mickle |  |
ESKDALE BRAES .
By the banks of the crystal-stream'd Esk,
Where the Wauchope her yellow wave joins,
Where the lambkins on sunny braes bask,
And wild woodbine the shepherd's bower twines.
Where the Wauchope her yellow wave joins,
Where the lambkins on sunny braes bask,
And wild woodbine the shepherd's bower twines.
Maria, disconsolate maid,
Oft sigh'd the still noon-tide away,
Or by moonlight all desolate stray'd,
While woeful she tun'd her love-lay:
Oft sigh'd the still noon-tide away,
Or by moonlight all desolate stray'd,
While woeful she tun'd her love-lay:
124
Ah, no more from the banks of the Ewes
My shepherd comes cheerly along,
Broomholm and the Deansbanks refuse
To echo the plaints of his song:
My shepherd comes cheerly along,
Broomholm and the Deansbanks refuse
To echo the plaints of his song:
No more from the echoes of Ewes,
His dog fondly barking I hear;
No more the tir'd lark he pursues,
And tells me his master draws near.
His dog fondly barking I hear;
No more the tir'd lark he pursues,
And tells me his master draws near.
Ah, woe to the wars, and the pride,
Thy heroes, O Esk, could display,
When with laurels they planted thy side,
From France and from Spain borne away.
Thy heroes, O Esk, could display,
When with laurels they planted thy side,
From France and from Spain borne away.
Oh, why did their honours decoy
My poor shepherd lad from the shore;
Ambition bewitch'd the vain boy,
And oceans between us now roar.
My poor shepherd lad from the shore;
Ambition bewitch'd the vain boy,
And oceans between us now roar.
Ah, methinks his pale corse floating by,
I behold on the rude billows tost;
Unburied his scatter'd bones lie,
Lie bleaching on some desert coast!
I behold on the rude billows tost;
Unburied his scatter'd bones lie,
Lie bleaching on some desert coast!
By this stream and the May-blossom'd thorn,
That first heard his love-tale, and his vows,
My pale ghost shall wander forlorn,
And the willow shall weep o'er my brows.
That first heard his love-tale, and his vows,
My pale ghost shall wander forlorn,
And the willow shall weep o'er my brows.
With the ghosts of the Waas will I wail,
In Warblaw woods join the sad throng,
To Hallow E'en's blast tell my tale,
As the spectres, ungrav'd, glide along.
In Warblaw woods join the sad throng,
To Hallow E'en's blast tell my tale,
As the spectres, ungrav'd, glide along.
125
Still the Ewes rolls her paly blue stream,
Old Esk still his crystal tide pours,
Still golden the Wauchope waves gleam,
And still green, oh Broomholm, are thy bowers!
Old Esk still his crystal tide pours,
Still golden the Wauchope waves gleam,
And still green, oh Broomholm, are thy bowers!
No: blasted they seem to my view,
The rivers in red floods combine!
The turtles their widow'd notes coo,
And mix their sad ditties with mine!
The rivers in red floods combine!
The turtles their widow'd notes coo,
And mix their sad ditties with mine!
Discolour'd in sorrow's dim shade,
All nature seems with me to mourn,—
Strait the village-bells merrily play'd,
And announc'd her dear Jamie's return.
All nature seems with me to mourn,—
Strait the village-bells merrily play'd,
And announc'd her dear Jamie's return.
The woodlands all May-blown appear,
The silver streams murmur new charms,
As, smiling, her Jamie drew near,
And all eager sprung into her arms.
The silver streams murmur new charms,
As, smiling, her Jamie drew near,
And all eager sprung into her arms.
The scene is laid on the banks where the two rivers of the Wauchope and Ewes join the Esk; on the banks of the former, was anciently a castle belonging to the Knights Templars, on the ruins of which was built the house at which Mr. Mickle's father resided, and where the poet was born. It was composed at the request of Mr. Ballantyne, and was to have been set to music by Mr. Commissioner Balmaine, of the Scotch excise, had not death prevented him. Both these gentlemen were born in this district.
| The Poetical Works of William Julius Mickle | |