 | Romantic Ballads and Poems of Phantasy |  |
63
THE DEITH-TIDE.
65
“Wi' a risin' win',
An' a flowin' tide,
There's a deith tae be;
When the win gaes back
An' the tide's at the slack,
There's a spirit free.”
—Fragment of a Highland Folksong.
An' a flowin' tide,
There's a deith tae be;
When the win gaes back
An' the tide's at the slack,
There's a spirit free.”
—Fragment of a Highland Folksong.
The weet saut wind is blawing
Upon the misty shore:
And like a stormy snawing
The deid go streaming o'er:—
Upon the misty shore:
And like a stormy snawing
The deid go streaming o'er:—
The wan drown'd deid sail wildly
Frae out each drumly wave:
It's O and O for the weary sea
And O for a quiet grave.
Frae out each drumly wave:
It's O and O for the weary sea
And O for a quiet grave.
66
“Whose voice is that is calling
Frae out the deid-wrack there,
What saut tears these aye falling
Upon my rain-weet hair?
Frae out the deid-wrack there,
What saut tears these aye falling
Upon my rain-weet hair?
“What white thing blawing, blawing
Before the moaning gale,
The grey thing 'mid the snawing,
The white thing 'mid the hail?”
Before the moaning gale,
The grey thing 'mid the snawing,
The white thing 'mid the hail?”
The wan drown'd deid sail wildly
Frae oot each drumly wave:
It's O and O for the weary sea
And O for a quiet grave.
Frae oot each drumly wave:
It's O and O for the weary sea
And O for a quiet grave.
“O wha be ye that's mournin'
Down by the saut sea-shore—
Mournin', mournin', mournin'
Alang the saut sea-shore:
Down by the saut sea-shore—
Mournin', mournin', mournin'
Alang the saut sea-shore:
“O weel I ken my dearie,
My dear love lost lang-syne:
O weep nae mair my dearie
Your tears o' bitter brine:
My dear love lost lang-syne:
O weep nae mair my dearie
Your tears o' bitter brine:
67
“The weet saut win' is falling,
An' hear ye not the tide,
The deith-tide calling, calling?
O come wi' me, my bride!
An' hear ye not the tide,
The deith-tide calling, calling?
O come wi' me, my bride!
“O come wi' me, my marrow,
Ye'll sleep love's sleep at last,
No in a cauld bed narrow
But swirlin' on the blast—
Ye'll sleep love's sleep at last,
No in a cauld bed narrow
But swirlin' on the blast—
“O come wi' me my ain ain Jean—
What gars ye grow sae chill?”
“O I fear your hollow burnin' een,
An' your voice sae thin an' shrill!”
What gars ye grow sae chill?”
“O I fear your hollow burnin' een,
An' your voice sae thin an' shrill!”
“O come wi' me my marrow,
Sae sweet sall be your sleep,
No in a cauld bed narrow
But in the swayin' deep.”
Sae sweet sall be your sleep,
No in a cauld bed narrow
But in the swayin' deep.”
The wan drown'd deid sail wildly
Frae back the weary land:
It's O and O for the saut deep sea
Ayont the barren strand.
Frae back the weary land:
It's O and O for the saut deep sea
Ayont the barren strand.
68
“O weel my soul is flying
Abune the faem wi' thee:
My bodie white cauld cauld is lying
Beside the gurly sea:
Abune the faem wi' thee:
My bodie white cauld cauld is lying
Beside the gurly sea:
“O gie tae me your shadowy han'
An' swift your phantom-kiss,
It's drear, sae drear, within the mirk
Here where the white waves hiss!”
An' swift your phantom-kiss,
It's drear, sae drear, within the mirk
Here where the white waves hiss!”
The wan drown'd deid sail wildly
Frae back the weary land;
It's O and O for the saut deep sea
Ayont the barren strand.
Frae back the weary land;
It's O and O for the saut deep sea
Ayont the barren strand.
| Romantic Ballads and Poems of Phantasy | |