THE MOURNING LADY.
SONG XV.
1
Bright shone the birks with morning dew,
And ruddy hung the clust'ring rowan;
Sweet smell'd the clover from the holm,
And clear the wave of Clouden flowing;
With me came forth the cloudless sun,
The forest tops and streams adorning;
When by Lincluden's tow'rs a dame,
Disturb'd with sighs the silent morning.
2
On rosie palm her cheek reclin'd,
As down she press'd the clover blossom;
And through her hanks of raven hair
Her fair front shone and snowy bosom;
Tear-wet her uncomforted cheek,
Its rosie lustre fast was losing;
And sad her eyes appear'd, like stars
Grown sick with golden morn disclosing.
3
“Fair com'st thou like a bridegroom forth,
Sweet sun rejoicing 'mongst the blossom;
Cold night-drops cluster 'mang my locks,
And colder dreep adown my bosom.
The sward anointing by the grove,
Where sleeps the best and truest lover;
The noblest heart, and purest mind,
That ere the bloomy turf did cover.
4
“No daisy soon shall blossom there,
Nor thyme with fragrant fleece be creeping;
I'll wear them with my nightly knees,
I'll drown them with my daily weeping.
I never lov'd a heart but one,
Yet loot that heart for me be broken;
I got but one token of my love,
And oh! that was a bloody token.
5
“I'll wear no gold sprig in my locks,
Nor ruby ring, nor diamond lacing;
I've lost a gem of heavenly worth,
And nought can be that gem replacing.
My love he was a bonnie flow'r,
That blossom'd forth in humble splendour;
But, I broke down the flow'r I lov'd,
And trode it 'neath my foot of grandeur.
6
“Oh had I wet his cheeks with tears,
Which now on his lone grave I'm shedding;
Oh had I pour'd my soul out thus,
When love his clay-cold cheeks did redden:
My love-seat ne'er had been this bow'r,
Nor my bridal couch this grassy cover;
Nor the bridegroom who maun lie to my breasts,
Had been the sods which hap my lover.”
