Songs, Ballads and Stories by William Allingham ... Including Many Now First Collected: The Rest Revised and Rearranged |
 | DAY AND NIGHT SONGS.
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 | Songs, Ballads and Stories by William Allingham |  |
1
DAY AND NIGHT SONGS.
A good many of the lyrics in this volume have been published
with music, but in no case has an exclusive right been
given, and the copyright of all (for publication with music or
otherwise) remains entirely in the hands of the author. The
following were written to Irish tunes:—“The Winding Banks
of Erne;” “The Girl's Lamentation;” “Among the Heather;”
“The Bright Little Girl;” “Kate of Ballyshanny;” “Lovely
Mary Donelly;” “The Milkmaid;” “The Nobleman's Wedding.”
Although the use of words and phrases not in general use
has been avoided, some Irishisms have naturally slipt in; all, I
think, explained in the Notes; and one unusual spelling is risked
(perhaps rashly)—“redd” for the past tense of read; a change
being certainly wanted. The word “red” carries a strong colour,
and ought not to have more to do.
A good many of the lyrics in this volume have been published with music, but in no case has an exclusive right been given, and the copyright of all (for publication with music or otherwise) remains entirely in the hands of the author. The following were written to Irish tunes:—“The Winding Banks of Erne;” “The Girl's Lamentation;” “Among the Heather;” “The Bright Little Girl;” “Kate of Ballyshanny;” “Lovely Mary Donelly;” “The Milkmaid;” “The Nobleman's Wedding.” Although the use of words and phrases not in general use has been avoided, some Irishisms have naturally slipt in; all, I think, explained in the Notes; and one unusual spelling is risked (perhaps rashly)—“redd” for the past tense of read; a change being certainly wanted. The word “red” carries a strong colour, and ought not to have more to do.
111
SONG,
IN THE DUSK.
O welcome! friendly stars, one by one, two by two;
And the voices of the waterfall toning in the air;
Whilst the wavy landscape-outlines are blurr'd with falling dew;
As my rapture is with sadness, because I may not share,
And double it by sharing it with thee.
—Cloudy fire dies away on the sea.
And the voices of the waterfall toning in the air;
Whilst the wavy landscape-outlines are blurr'd with falling dew;
As my rapture is with sadness, because I may not share,
And double it by sharing it with thee.
—Cloudy fire dies away on the sea.
Now the calm shadowy earth she lies musing like a saint;
She is wearing for a halo the pure circlet of the moon;
From the mountain breathes the night-wind, steadily, though faint;
As I am breathing softly, “Ah! might some heav'nly boon
Bestow thee, my belov'd one, to my side!”
—Like a full, happy heart flows the tide.
She is wearing for a halo the pure circlet of the moon;
116
As I am breathing softly, “Ah! might some heav'nly boon
Bestow thee, my belov'd one, to my side!”
—Like a full, happy heart flows the tide.
BALLADS AND SONGS, ETC.
169
THE BALLAD OF SQUIRE CURTIS.
A venerable white-hair'd Man,
A trusty man and true,
Told me this tale, as word for word
I tell this tale to you.
A trusty man and true,
Told me this tale, as word for word
I tell this tale to you.
180
Squire Curtis had a cruel mouth,
Though honey was on his tongue;
Squire Curtis woo'd and wedded a wife,
And she was fair and young.
Though honey was on his tongue;
Squire Curtis woo'd and wedded a wife,
And she was fair and young.
But he said, “She cannot love me;
She watches me early and late;
She is mild and good and cold of mood;”—
And his liking turn'd to hate.
She watches me early and late;
She is mild and good and cold of mood;”—
And his liking turn'd to hate.
One autumn evening they rode through the woods,
Far and far away;
“The dusk is drawing round,” she said,
“I fear we have gone astray.”
Far and far away;
“The dusk is drawing round,” she said,
“I fear we have gone astray.”
He spake no word, but lighted down,
And tied his horse to a tree;
Out of the pillion he lifted her;
“'Tis a lonely place,” said she.
And tied his horse to a tree;
Out of the pillion he lifted her;
“'Tis a lonely place,” said she.
Down a forest-alley he walk'd,
And she walk'd by his side;
“Would Heav'n we were at home!” she said,
“These woods are dark and wide!”
And she walk'd by his side;
“Would Heav'n we were at home!” she said,
“These woods are dark and wide!”
He spake no word, but still walk'd on;
The branches shut out the sky;
In the darkest place he turn'd him round—
“'Tis here that you must die.”
The branches shut out the sky;
In the darkest place he turn'd him round—
“'Tis here that you must die.”
181
Once she shriek'd and never again;
He stabb'd her with his knife;
Once, twice, thrice, and every blow
Enough to take a life.
He stabb'd her with his knife;
Once, twice, thrice, and every blow
Enough to take a life.
A grave was ready; he laid her in;
He fill'd it up with care;
Under the brambles and fallen leaves
Small sign of a grave was there.
He fill'd it up with care;
Under the brambles and fallen leaves
Small sign of a grave was there.
He rode for an hour at a steady pace,
Till unto his house came he;
On face or clothing, on foot or hand,
No stain that eye could see.
Till unto his house came he;
On face or clothing, on foot or hand,
No stain that eye could see.
He boldly call'd to his serving-man,
As he lighted at the door:
“Your Mistress is gone on a sudden journey,—
May stay for a month or more.
As he lighted at the door:
“Your Mistress is gone on a sudden journey,—
May stay for a month or more.
“In two days I shall follow her;
Let her waiting-woman know.”
“Sir,” said the serving-man, “My Lady
Came in an hour ago.”
Let her waiting-woman know.”
“Sir,” said the serving-man, “My Lady
Came in an hour ago.”
Squire Curtis sat him down in a chair,
And moved neither hand nor head.
In there came the waiting-woman,
“Alas the day!” she said.
And moved neither hand nor head.
In there came the waiting-woman,
“Alas the day!” she said.
182
“Alas! good Sir,” says the waiting-woman,
“What aileth my Mistress dear,
That she sits alone without sign or word?
There is something wrong, I fear!
“What aileth my Mistress dear,
That she sits alone without sign or word?
There is something wrong, I fear!
“Her face was white as any corpse
As up the stair she pass'd;
She never turn'd, she never spoke;
And the chamber-door is fast.
As up the stair she pass'd;
She never turn'd, she never spoke;
And the chamber-door is fast.
“She's waiting for you.” “A lie!” he shouts,
And up to his feet doth start;
“My wife is buried in Brimley Holt,
With three wounds in her heart.”
And up to his feet doth start;
“My wife is buried in Brimley Holt,
With three wounds in her heart.”
They search'd the forest by lantern light,
They search'd by dawn of day;
At noon they found the bramble-brake
And the pit where her body lay.
They search'd by dawn of day;
At noon they found the bramble-brake
And the pit where her body lay.
They carried the murder'd woman home,
Slow walking side by side.
Squire Curtis he swung upon gallows-tree,
But confess'd before he died.
Slow walking side by side.
Squire Curtis he swung upon gallows-tree,
But confess'd before he died.
The venerable trusty Man
With hair like drifted snow,
Told me this tale, as from his wife
He learn'd it long ago.
With hair like drifted snow,
Told me this tale, as from his wife
He learn'd it long ago.
183
“Her father, Sir, in early days,
Lived close by Curtis Hall;
Many's the time he heard folk tell
Of what did there befall.
Lived close by Curtis Hall;
Many's the time he heard folk tell
Of what did there befall.
“The story's true from first to last;
His name was Henry Dabb;
Died lammas last at eighty-four,—
You'll read it on the slab.”
His name was Henry Dabb;
Died lammas last at eighty-four,—
You'll read it on the slab.”
THE WONDROUS WELL.
Came north and south and east and west,
Four Pilgrims to a mountain crest,
Each vow'd to search the wide world round,
Until the Wondrous Well be found;
For even here, as old songs tell,
Shine sun and moon upon that Well;
And now, the lonely crag their seat,
The water rises at their feet.
Four Pilgrims to a mountain crest,
Each vow'd to search the wide world round,
Until the Wondrous Well be found;
For even here, as old songs tell,
Shine sun and moon upon that Well;
And now, the lonely crag their seat,
The water rises at their feet.
Said One, “This Well is small and mean,
Too petty for a village-green.”
Another said, “So smooth and dumb—
From earth's deep centre can it come?”
The Third, “This water's nothing rare,
Hueless and savourless as air.”
The Fourth, “A Fane I look'd to see:
Where the true Well is, that must be.”
Too petty for a village-green.”
Another said, “So smooth and dumb—
From earth's deep centre can it come?”
The Third, “This water's nothing rare,
Hueless and savourless as air.”
The Fourth, “A Fane I look'd to see:
Where the true Well is, that must be.”
184
They rose and left the lofty crest,
One north, one south, one east, one west;
Through many seas and deserts wide
They wander'd, thirsting, till they died;
Because no other water can
Assuage the deepest thirst of man.
—Shepherds who by the mountain dwell,
Dip their pitchers in that Well.
One north, one south, one east, one west;
Through many seas and deserts wide
They wander'd, thirsting, till they died;
Because no other water can
Assuage the deepest thirst of man.
—Shepherds who by the mountain dwell,
Dip their pitchers in that Well.
THE MAIDS OF ELFIN-MERE.
'Twas when the spinning-room was here.
Came Three Damsels clothed in white,
With their spindles every night;
Two and one, and Three fair Maidens,
Spinning to a pulsing cadence,
Singing songs of Elfin-Mere;
Till the eleventh hour was toll'd,
Then departed through the wold.
Came Three Damsels clothed in white,
With their spindles every night;
Two and one, and Three fair Maidens,
Spinning to a pulsing cadence,
Singing songs of Elfin-Mere;
Till the eleventh hour was toll'd,
Then departed through the wold.
Years ago, and years ago;
And the tall reeds sigh as the wind doth blow.
And the tall reeds sigh as the wind doth blow.
Three white Lilies, calm and clear,
And they were loved by every one;
Most of all, the Pastor's Son,
Listening to their gentle singing,
Felt his heart go from him, clinging
Round these Maids of Elfin-Mere;
Sued each night to make them stay,
Sadden'd when they went away.
And they were loved by every one;
Most of all, the Pastor's Son,
Listening to their gentle singing,
Felt his heart go from him, clinging
Round these Maids of Elfin-Mere;
185
Sadden'd when they went away.
Years ago, and years ago;
And the tall reeds sigh as the wind doth blow.
And the tall reeds sigh as the wind doth blow.
Hands that shook with love and fear
Dared put back the village clock,—
Flew the spindle, turn'd the rock,
Flow'd the song with subtle rounding,
Till the false “eleven” was sounding;
Then these Maids of Elfin-Mere
Swiftly, softly, left the room,
Like three doves on snowy plume.
Dared put back the village clock,—
Flew the spindle, turn'd the rock,
Flow'd the song with subtle rounding,
Till the false “eleven” was sounding;
Then these Maids of Elfin-Mere
Swiftly, softly, left the room,
Like three doves on snowy plume.
Years ago, and years ago;
And the tall reeds sigh as the wind doth blow.
And the tall reeds sigh as the wind doth blow.
One that night who wander'd near
Heard lamentings by the shore,
Saw at dawn three stains of gore
In the waters fade and dwindle.
Nevermore with song and spindle
Saw we Maids of Elfin-Mere.
The Pastor's Son did pine and die;
Because true love should never lie.
Heard lamentings by the shore,
Saw at dawn three stains of gore
In the waters fade and dwindle.
Nevermore with song and spindle
Saw we Maids of Elfin-Mere.
The Pastor's Son did pine and die;
Because true love should never lie.
Years ago, and years ago;
And the tall reeds sigh as the wind doth blow.
And the tall reeds sigh as the wind doth blow.
| Songs, Ballads and Stories by William Allingham | |