 | [Poems by Whittier in] A Study of Whittier's Apprenticeship as a Poet |  |
ALLAN GRAEME
Ken ye maidens, wha is he
Wi' the mirk an' mournfu' bree,
Wi' the wild, an' wanderin' e'e,
That across the moorlan's cam';
Seems he not o' foreign mien,
Far along our braes sae green,
None sae sad are ever seen,
Hush! he comes! 'tis Allan Graeme.
Wi' the mirk an' mournfu' bree,
Wi' the wild, an' wanderin' e'e,
That across the moorlan's cam';
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Far along our braes sae green,
None sae sad are ever seen,
Hush! he comes! 'tis Allan Graeme.
“Allan Graeme—frae whence art thou?
Care hath dimm'd thy bonnie brow,
Thou art pale an' mournfu' now!
Allan speak! thy sorrows name.”
Like the tree, the north win' gars,
Shake sae wildly, when it blaws,
Nightly o'er the wintry braes,
Shook the form o' Allan Graeme.
Care hath dimm'd thy bonnie brow,
Thou art pale an' mournfu' now!
Allan speak! thy sorrows name.”
Like the tree, the north win' gars,
Shake sae wildly, when it blaws,
Nightly o'er the wintry braes,
Shook the form o' Allan Graeme.
An' he answer'd wild an' fierce,
“Dinna read my aspect thus,
Nane o' ye maun know the curse,
Graven there in words of flame;
Tak' ye're bonnie han's frae mine,
See ye not the guilty sign?
Bluid hath darken'd ilka line,
I' the han' o' Allan Graeme.”
“Dinna read my aspect thus,
Nane o' ye maun know the curse,
Graven there in words of flame;
Tak' ye're bonnie han's frae mine,
See ye not the guilty sign?
Bluid hath darken'd ilka line,
I' the han' o' Allan Graeme.”
“Allan Graeme—it canna be,
Nane were ance mair kind than thee,
Nane wad e'er hae thought to see,
Ane sae noble bow'd wi' shame;
Speak! relate thy wrangs to us,
Wha has dar'd to use thee thus?
Wha has dar'd to fix a curse
On the head o' Allan Graeme?”
Nane were ance mair kind than thee,
Nane wad e'er hae thought to see,
Ane sae noble bow'd wi' shame;
Speak! relate thy wrangs to us,
Wha has dar'd to use thee thus?
Wha has dar'd to fix a curse
On the head o' Allan Graeme?”
“Ken ye not the curse was giv'n,
By an a' avengin' heaven,
Haunted now, to phrensy driv'n,
Maidens, I have left my hame;
As ye shun the tremblin' scaur,
When the torrent comes to war,
Shun me, maidens! fly me far,
Shun the path o' Allan Graeme.”
By an a' avengin' heaven,
Haunted now, to phrensy driv'n,
Maidens, I have left my hame;
As ye shun the tremblin' scaur,
When the torrent comes to war,
Shun me, maidens! fly me far,
Shun the path o' Allan Graeme.”
Haverhill Gazette, October 6, 1827
| [Poems by Whittier in] A Study of Whittier's Apprenticeship as a Poet | |