Sir Marmaduke Maxwell, A Dramatic Poem :: :: University of Virginia Library

There's kames o'honey 'tween my luve's lips,
An' gold amang her hair,
Her breasts are lapt in a holie veil;
Nae mortal een look there.
What lips dare kiss, or what hand dare touch,
Or what arm o' luve dare span
The honey lips, the creamy palm,
Or the waist o' Lady Ann!

175

2

She kisses the lips o' her bonnie red rose,
Wat wi' the blobs o' dew;
But nae gentle lip, nor semple lip,
Maun touch her Ladie mou.
But a broider'd belt, wi' a buckle o' gold,
Her jimpy waist maun span—
O she's an armfu' fit for heaven,
My bonnie Ladie Ann.

3

Her bower casement is latticed wi' flowers,
Tied up wi' silver thread,
An' comely sits she in the midst,
Men's longing een to feed.
She waves the ringlets frae her cheek,
Wi' her milky, milky han',
An' her cheeks seem touch'd wi' the finger o' God,
My bonnie Ladie Ann!

4

The morning cloud is tassel'd wi' gold,
Like my luve's broider'd cap,
An' on the mantle which my luve wears
Is monie a golden drap.
Her bonnie eebrow's a holie arch
Cast by no earthlie han';
An' the breath o' Heaven's atween the lips
O' my bonnie Ladie Ann!

176

5

I am her father's gardener lad,
An' poor, poor is my fa';
My auld mither gets my sair-won fee,
Wi' fatherless bairnies twa.
My een are bauld, they dwall on a place
Where I darena mint my han',
But I water, and tend, and kiss the flowers
O' my bonnie Lady Ann.

I'LL GANG NAE MAIR TO YON TOWN.

1

I'll gang nae mair to yon town,
Betide me joy, betide me pain;
I've tint my heart in yon town,
And dare na gang the gate again.
The sun shall cease to thowe the snaw,
The corn to shoot wi' simmer rain,
When I gang back to yon town,
And see the gate my heart has gane.

178

2

Yestreen I went to yon town,
Wi' heart in pleasure panting free,
As stag won from the hunter's snare,
Or birdie building on the tree;
But ae half-hour tint all my peace,
And lair'd my soul in dool and pain,
And weary fa' the witchcraft wit
That winna let it free again.

3

Had I but been by fortune's hand
In the silk lap of grandeur thrown,
And she had trimm'd the humblest home
That ever rose in Caledon;
I'd clad her in a starry robe,
And claspt her to my bosom fain;
And blest the happy hour I went
To see the mirthsome town again.

4

She's fairer than a summer morn,
And purer than the spotless sky;
Far is the journey to her heart,
She measures in her haughty eye.
But she is sweeter than the rose
New bathed amang the balmy rain—
And I maun gang to yon town,
And see the lovesome maid again.

179

THE WANTON WIFE.

1

Nith, trembling to the reapers' song,
Warm glimmer'd in the morning sun,
And murmur'd up the greenwood glen,
Where Kate the wanton cummer wonne.
Her tongue aye wagg'd wi' graceless wit,
Stay'd by nor kirk nor gospel ban;
And aye she wish'd the kirk-yard mools
Were green aboon her auld goodman.

2

Her auld goodman dropt in at e'en,
Wi' harvest-hook sore toil'd was he;
Sma' was his cog, and cauld his kale,
Yet anger never raised his ee.
He blest the little, and was blythe,—
While Kate wi' clamorous tongue began;
Now sorrow clap thy auld bald pow,
And dance w'ye to the mools, goodman.

3

He look'd at her, but did nae speak,
And down he lay in dool and pine;
While she sat singing in the nook,
And touting at the rosy wine.
The lark amid the morning grey,
That wont to cheer him workward gaun,
Next morning miss'd among the dew
The blythe and dainty auld goodman.

180

4

The third morn-dew on bank and tree
'Gan in the rising sun to glow,
When sung the wanton wife to see
His feet gaun foremost o'er the knowe.
The first flight of the winter rime,
That on the kirk-yard sward had faun,
She skift it from his lowly grave,
A-kirking wi' her new goodman.

5

A dainty dame I wot she was;
Baith brent and burnish'd was her brow
'Mang curling love-locks, and her lips
Were daisies born 'mang may-day dew;
And lightsome was she in the dance,
When ha' was het, or kirn was wan;
Her hands seem'd drifts of virgin snow,
In cauld December's bosom faun.

6

But long ere winter's winds flew by,
She skirled in her lonesome howe;
Her husband wi' a hazel rung
Began to kame her wanton powe.
Her hearth was quench'd with woe and care,
Toom grew her chest, and cauld her pan
And driegh and dowie wax'd the night,
Ere beltane, with her new goodman.

181

7

She dreary sits 'tween naked wa's,
Her cheeks ne'er dimpling into mirth,
Half happit, haurling out of doors,
And hunger-haunted at her hearth.
Her faded eyes are full of tears,
Her voice is changed, her cheek is wan;
And loud and bitter are her sobs,
When she thinks on her auld goodman.

A WEARY BODIE'S BLYTHE WHAN THE SUN GANGS DOWN.

1

A weary bodie's blythe whan the sun gangs down,
A weary bodie's blythe whan the sun gangs down:
To smile wi' his wife, and to daute wi' his weans,
Wha wadna be blythe whan the sun gangs down?

2

The simmer sun's lang, an' we've a' toiled sair,
Frae sun-rise to sun-set's a dreigh tack o' care;
But at hame for to daute 'mang our wee bits o' weans,
We think on our toils an' our cares nae mair.

182

3

The Saturday sun gangs ay sweetest down,
My bonnie boys leave their wark i' the town;
My heart loups light at my ain ingle side,
Whan my kin' blythe bairn-time is a' sitting roun'.

4

The sabbath morning comes, an' warm lowes the sun,
Ilk heart's full o' joy a' the parishen roun';
Round the hip o' the hill comes the sweet psalm tune,
An' the auld fowk a' to the preaching are bowne.

5

The hearts o' the younkers loup lightsome, to see
The gladness which dwalls in their auld grannie's ee;
An' they gather i' the sun,' side the green haw-tree,
Nae new-flown birds are sae mirthsome an' hie.

6

Tho' my sonsie dame's cheeks nae to auld age are prief,
Tho' the roses which blumed there are smit i' the leaf;
Tho' the young blinks o' luve hae a' died in her ee,
She is bonnier an' dearer than ever to me!

7

I mind when I thought the sun didnae shine
On a form half so fair, or a face so divine;
She was wooed in the parlour, and sought in the ha',
But I won her away frae the wit o' them a'.

183

8

Ance Poortith came in 'yont our hallan to keek,
But my Jeanie was nursing an' singing sae sweet,
That she laid down her powks at anither door-cheek,
An steppit blythely ben her auld shanks for to beek.

9

My hame is the mailen weel stockit an' fu,
My bairns are the flocks an' the herds which I loo;—
My Jeanie is the gold an' delight o' my ee,
She's worth a hale lairdship o' mailens to me!

10

O wha wad fade awa like a flower i' the dew,
An' nae leave a sprout for kind heaven to pu'?
Wha wad rot 'mang the mools, like the stump o' the tree,
Wi' nae shoots the pride o' the forest to be?

BRIGHT STARS DINNA PEEP IN.

1

Bright stars dinna peep in,
To see me wi' Mary,
An' O thou bright an' bonnie moon,
Don't at her window tarry.
Sair yestreen ye scared me,
Sair yestreen ye barred me,
Frae kisses kind ye marred me,
Ye peep'd sae in on Mary.

2

Mary's a winsome quean,
Light as ony fairy;
Mary's a gentle quean,
Oh I daute her dearly.
An' when the moon is moving,
She loves to go a roving,
An' then she's leal an' loving,—
My ain sweet Mary.

190

THE YOUNG MAXWELL.

1

Where gang ye, ye silly auld carle,
Wi' yere staff and shepherd fare?
I'm gaun to the hill, thou sodger man,
To shift my hirsels' lair.
Ae stride or twa took the silly auld carle,
An' a good long stride took he;
I trow thou be a freck auld carle,
Will ye show the way to me.

2

For I have ridden down bonnie Nith,
Sae have I the silver Orr,
And a' for the blood of the young Maxwell,
Which I love as a gled loves gore.
And he is gone with the silly auld carle
Adown by the rocks sae steep,
Until that they came to the auld castle,
That hangs o'er Dee sae deep.

3

The rocks were high, the woods were dark,
The Dee roll'd in his pride;
Light down and gang, thou sodger man,
For here ye mayna ride.
He drew the reins of his bonnie grey steed,
And gayly down he sprang,
His warcoat was of the scarlet fine,
Where the golden tassels hang.

191

4

He threw down his plaid, the silly auld carle,
The bonnet frae 'boon his bree,
And who was it but the young Maxwell,
And his good brown sword drew he.
Thou kill'd my father, thou vile southron,
Sae did ye my brethren three,
Which broke the heart of my ae sister
I loved as the light of my e'e.

5

Now draw thy sword, thou vile southron,
Red wet wi blood o' my kin;
That sword it cropt the fairest flower
E'er grew wi' a head to the sun;
Take ae stroke for my dear auld father,
Take twa for my brethren three,
And there's ane to thy heart for my ae sister
I loved as the light o' my e'e.

THE SHEPHERD SEEKS HIS GLOWING HEARTH.

1

The shepherd seeks his glowing hearth,
The fox calls from the mountain,
The folded flocks are white with rime,
Swans seek the silent fountain;
And midnight starless is and drear,
And Ae's wild waters swelling,
Far up the lonesome greenwood glen,
Where my fair maiden's dwelling.

192

2

Wild is the night—green July's eve,
Ne'er balmier seem'd or warmer;
For I sing thy name, and muse on thee,
My mild and winsome charmer;
Thy bower sheds far its trysting light
Through the dark air of December—
Thy father's dreaming o'er his wealth,
Thy mother's in her chamber.

3

Now is the time for talk, my love,
Soft sighing, mutual wishing,
Heart-throbbings, interchange of vows,
Words breathed mid holy kissing;
All worldly maxims, wisemen's rules,
My raptured soul disdaineth;
For with my love the world is lost,
And all the world containeth.

THOU HAST VOW'D BY THY FAITH, MY JEANIE.

1

Thou hast vow'd by thy faith, my Jeanie,
By that pretty white hand of thine,
And by all the lowing stars in heaven,
That thou wad aye be mine:
And I have sworn by my faith, my Jeanie,
And by that kind heart of thine,
By all the stars sown thick o'er heaven,
That thou shalt aye be mine.

193

2

Foul fa' the hands wad loose sic bands,
And the heart wad part sic love;
But there's nae hand can loose the band,
But the finger of Him above.
Though the wee wee cot maun be my bield,
And my clothing e'er sae mean,
I should lap up rich in the faulds of love,
Heaven's armfu' of my Jean.

3

Thy white arm wad be a pillow to me,
Far softer than the down;
And love wad winnow o'er us his kind kind wings,
And sweetly we'd sleep and soun.
Come here to me, thou lass whom I love,
Come here and kneel wi' me,
The morning is full of the presence of God,
And I cannot pray but thee.

4

The wind is sweet amang the new flowers,
The wee birds sing saft on the tree,
Our goodman sits in the bonnie sunshine,
And a blythe auld bodie is he;
The Beuk maun be ta'en when he comes hame,
Wi' the holie psalmodie,
And I will speak of thee when I pray,
And thou maun speak of me.

194

MY HEART IS IN SCOTLAND.

1

My heart is in Scotland, my heart is not here,
I left it at hame with a lass I love dear:
When the twilight star shines over turret and tree,
I bless its light, Jeanie, and think upon thee.
What distance can fasten, what country can bind,
The flight of my soul, or the march of my mind?
Though hills rise atween us, and wide waters flow,
My heart is in Scotland wherever I go.

2

As the clear moon arises, O say, dost thou walk,
With the footsteps of him that's departed to talk;

196

To thy white neck and locks where yon brook slumbers calm,
Lends the woodbine its odour, the violet its balm?
Or when thou return'st to thy chamber of rest,
Dost thou mark you bright witness, hung high in the west?
To its light hold thy pure hands, far purer than snow,
And vow thou wilt love me, come gladness or woe?

3

The groves which we wooed in, the glens with their streams,
Still cheer me awake, and still charm me in dreams;
The flower and the bush, and the bank and the tree,
Come each with their tidings, my fair one, of thee;
The minutes seem'd proud of thy presence, nor flew—
Thy white arms clasp'd kinder, mair sweet thy lips grew,
And the blue sky above, and the pure flood below,
Shone and slept, for they seem'd of our rapture to know.

4

Now where are love's twilight walks? where the soft sigh,
The chaste greeting, and mild benediction of eye?
The hours when earth's glories seem'd dust at our feet?
The sorrow to sunder, the rapture to meet?
I left them in Scotland's green valleys at hame,
And far from the heaven which holds them I came:
Come wealth or come want, or come weal or come woe,
My heart is in Scotland wherever I go.

197

THE MARINER.

1

Ye winds which kiss the groves' green tops,
And sweep the mountain hoar,
O, softly stir the ocean waves
Which sleep along the shore;
For my love sails the fairest ship
That wantons on the sea:
O, bend his masts with pleasant gales,
And waft him hame to me.

2

O leave nae mair the bonnie glen,
Clear stream, and hawthorn grove,
Where first we walked in gloaming grey,
And sigh'd and look'd of love;
For faithless is the ocean wave,
And faithless is the wind—
Then leave nae mair my heart to break,
'Mang Scotland's hills behind.

198

O MY LOVE IS A COUNTRY LASS.

1

O my love is a country lass,
And I am but a country laddie;
But true love is nae gentleman,
And sweetness is nae lofty lady.
I make my bed 'mang brackens green;
My light's the moon, round, bright, an' bonnie;
And there I muse the summer night
On her, my leal and lovely Jeanie.

2

Her gown spun by her ain white hand;
Her coat sae trim of snowy plaiden;
Is there a dame in all the land
Sae lady-like in silk and satin?
Though minstrel lore is all my wealth;
Let gowks love gold and mailens many,
I'm rich enough when I have thee,
My witty, winsome, lovely Jeanie.

3

O! have you seen her at the kirk,
Her brow with meek devotion glowing?
Or got ae glance of her bright eye,
Frae 'neath her tresses dark and flowing?
Or heard her voice breathe out such words
As angels use—sweet, but not many?
And have ye dream'd of aught sinsyne,
Save her, my fair, my lovely Jeanie?