LORD RANDAL.
SONG XLVI.
1
The cold wind swept a starless sky,
The hills were grimed with snaw,
At mirk midnight a lady's voice,
Rose by the castle wa'—
“Oh come, Lord Randal, open your door,
Oh open and let me in,
The snaw hangs on my scarlet robes,
The sleet drips down my chin.
2
“Light throb'd my heart in maiden pride,
When first ye kiss'd my glove,
Fair Clouden on thy faithless bank,
And won my virgin love;
Now sweet wad blaw the wind that froze,
The death drap in mine e'e,
Soon may the spring-time gowan grace,
The turf to cover me,”
3
Low sank her voice, faint plaining wild,
The turret tops amang,
Lord Randal started from his couch,
Wide every portal sprang;
Mournful called he his true love's name,
Down rained the bitter tear,
But ah, ne'er mortal voice again,
Might win that lady's ear.
