Ballads of Irish chivalry By Robert Dwyer Joyce: Edited, with Annotations, by his brother P. W. Joyce |
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THE RED ROSE AND THE WHITE. |
 | Ballads of Irish chivalry |  |
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THE RED ROSE AND THE WHITE.
I
The Red Rose to the White Rose spakeWithin the garden fair:—
“O sister, sister, I shall make
A garland for her hair—
A garland for my lady gay
In spring-time of the year,
And she shall bloom ere next blithe May,
A bride without a peer.”
II
“List ye, my sister,” said the White,“Perchance 'tis I may rest
Among her locks of golden light,
And on her gentle breast,—
Her breast that's like my pearly leaves
In spring-time of the year,
For Nature also works and weaves
Sad garlands for a bier.”
III
“Now, cease thy boding voice of woe!”The Red Rose cries again:
“See where in pride of beauty's glow
Forth walks she with her train;
Bright as the morn all glittering
In spring-time of the year:
Can death e'er strike so fair a thing,
That maid without a peer?”
IV
When flowers were smiling through the land,In glen and forest tall,
Young Lady Anne looked down the strand,
From Mallow's castle wall;
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In spring-time of the year,
Her own young knight, with hawk on hand,
That morning mild and clear.
V
“Come down, come down, O lady sweet,We'll range the greenwoods fair,
With hawk and hound and courser fleet,
To chase the timid hare;
To rouse the pheasant from the woods
In spring-time of the year,
And start the heron where she broods
'Mid sedges tall and sere.”
VI
She's mounted on the gallant bay,And he upon the black;
They've hunted all the livelong day
Through glen and forest track;
They're resting now 'neath a hawthorn spray,
In spring-time of the year,
Beside Queen Cleena's rock so gray,
With foliage rustling near.
VII
Across her face a cold blast blew—'Twas sent by some dark fay—
It blighted her though no one knew,
That sweet and sunny day.
Yet glad she rode towards Mallow's wall
In spring-time of the year,
And blithely sat she in the hall
Beside her lover dear.
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VIII
At eve they made the altar brightFor morning's bridal train;
But Lady Anne slept sound that night
And never woke again.
The Red Rose it was dead and gone
In spring-time of the year;
The White Rose 'mid her bright locks shone,
And decked her mournful bier.
IX
“She died not!”—still the peasants say—“But in Queen Cleena's hall
She lives with elf-maids bright and gay,
The fairest of them all;
Each night upon her gallant bay,
In spring-time of the year,
She rideth round that rock so grey,
In the ghostly moonlight clear!”
| Ballads of Irish chivalry | |