 | Poems, and a tragedy |  |
xlix
ESKDALE BRAES.
By the banks of the chrystal 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;
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 persues,
And tells me his master draws near;
His dog fondly barking I hear,
No more the tir'd lark he persues,
And tells me his master draws near;
Ah, woe to the wars, and the pride,
That my heroes, Oh Esk, could display,
When with laurels they planted thy side,
From France and from Spain borne away.
That my heroes, Oh 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!
xlx
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'ens blast tell my tale,
As the spectres, ungrav'd, glide along;
In Warblaw woods join the sad throng,
To Hallow E'ens blast tell my tale,
As the spectres, ungrav'd, glide along;
Still the Ewes rolls her paly blue stream,
Old Esk still his chrystal tide pours,
Still golden the Wauchope waves gleam,
And still green, oh Broomholm, are thy bowers!
Old Esk still his chrystal 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.
| Poems, and a tragedy | |