Poems by the late John Bethune :: :: University of Virginia Library

Oh! list to my lay, ye lovely, ye gay,
For sad, sad's the tale that it tells unto you;
And pity, ye maids, who in love's sweetest shades,
Ha'e the lads that are dearest aye nearest in view:

Ae morning o' May, while the first beams o' day
Were sprinkling wi' roses the bonny blue sky,
A gallant ship rode, wi' her canvass abroad,
'Mid the roar o' the wild waves and waterfowls' cry;

And aft frae the mast, her kind mariners' cast
A waefu' look back to their friends on the quay,
Who watch'd o'er her way, as she dash'd through the spray,
And lit wi' her white sails the waste o' the sea.

Fathers and mothers, and sisters and brothers,
There linger'd to gaze on that gallant ship's crew;
And wi' hearts fu' o' fears, and e'en fu' o' tears,
They bade their sad sailors a silent adieu.

But oh! what is she wi' the tear in her e'e,
And the blush on her cheek sae enchantingly fair?
Why heaves she sae high her young breast wi' a sigh?
Nae father nor friend has the lone maiden there.

244

Apart from the rest, in a simple robe dress'd,
And shame-faced, and silent, and trembling she stood,
To watch the proud vessel, wi' prouder waves wrestle,
As gaily she dash'd through the white foaming flood.

In silence and yearning, the crowd was returning,
Apart, to their homes, now deserted by those
Whose eyes' lovely light had illum'd them last night,
Whose songs o' the ocean had soothed their repose.

But why does that maid draw around her her plaid,
And linger alane on the cauld narrow quay?
And why does she mark that foreign-bound bark,
As if a' that she loved on the earth were at sea?

A voice on the blast told the secret at last—
The cause o' her blushes, the cause o' her pain—
A scream from the girl gave the tidings of peril,
And each eye turn'd back to the bark on the main.

Every broad bending sail flutter'd loose in the gale—
A boat was flung off by the crew from her bow;
And all could perceive, as they gazed but to grieve,
That the poor maiden's lover was drowning below.

245

She saw him nae mair at the kirk or the fair,
For cauld, cauld he lay in the deep rolling sea:
Herswimming brain burn'd a moment, then turn'd!
A poor homeless stranger, and maniac, was she!

And mony a lang day, by the rock-girded bay,
She sang her sad dirges in sickness and sorrow,
Till the sea-mews on high, to her seem'd to cry,
“Thy sailor—thy lover—he'll meet thee tomorrow!”

And she spread by the wave all the gifts which he gave,
And smilingly kiss'd them, then droopingly sigh'd;
And his offerings of pearl, and sea-shells, and coral,
She press'd to her quick-beating heart as she died!