"Wae's Me for Prince Charlie" 2631

Oh! when I heard the bonny, bonny bird
The tears came drapping rarely;

I took my bonnet aff my head,

For weel I lo'ed Prince Charlie.

Quoth I: "My bird, my bonny, bonny bird,
Is that a tale ye borrow?

Or is't some words ye've learned by rote,
Or a lilt o' dool and sorrow?"
"Oh! no, no, no!" the wee bird sang,
"I've flown sin' morning early;

But sic a day o' wind and rain!—
Oh! wae's me for Prince Charlie!

"On hills that are by right his ain
He roams a lanely stranger;
On ilka hand he's pressed by want,
On ilka side by danger.

Yestreen I met him in the glen,
My heart near bursted fairly;
For sadly changed indeed was he-
Oh! wae's me for Prince Charlie!

"Dark night came on; the tempest howled
Out owre the hills and valleys;
And where was't that your prince lay down,
Whose hame should be a palace?

He ro'ed him in a Highland plaid,
Which covered him but sparely,
And slept beneath a bush o' broom-
Oh! wae's me for Prince Charlie!"

But now the bird saw some red coats, And he shook his wings wi' anger: "Oh! this is no a land for me

I'll tarry here nae langer.”

A while he hovered on the wing,

Ere he departed fairly;

But weel I mind the farewell strain,

"Twas "Wae's me for Prince Charlie!"

William Glen (1789-1826]

TRUE LOVE'S DIRGE

SOME love is light and fleets away,
Heigho! the wind and rain;
Some love is deep and scorns decay,
Ah, well-a-day! in vain.

Of loyal love I sing this lay,
Heigho! the wind and rain;
'Tis of a knight and lady gay,

Ah, well-a-day! bright twain.

He loved her, heart loved ne'er so well,
Heigho! the wind and rain;
She was a cold and proud damsel,
Ah, well-a-day! and vain.

He loved her,--oh, he loved her long,
Heigho! the wind and rain;
But she for love gave bitter wrong,
Ah, well-a-day! Disdain!

It is not meet for knight like me,
Heigho! the wind and rain;

Though scorned, love's recreant to be,
Ah, well-a-day! Refrain.

That brave knight buckled on his brand,

Heigho! the wind and rain;

And fast he sought a foreign strand,
Ah, well-a-day! in pain.

He wandered wide by land and sea
Heigho! the wind and rain;

A mirror of bright constancy.

Ah, well-a-day! in vain.

He would not chide, he would not blame, Heigho! the wind and rain;

But at each shrine he breathed her name, Ah, well-a-day! Amen!

2633

True Love's Dirge

He would not harp, he would not sing,
Heigho! the wind and rain;

That broke his heart with love-longing.
Ah, well-a-day! poor brain.

He scorned to weep, he scorned to sigh,
Heigho! the wind and rain;

But like a true knight he could die,—
Ah, well-a-day! life's vain.

The banner which that brave knight bore,
Heigho! the wind and rain;

Had scrolled on it, "Faith Evermore."

Ah, well-a-day! again.

That banner led the Christian van,
Heigho! the wind and rain;
Against Seljuck and Turcoman.

Ah, well-a-day! bright train.

The fight was o'er, the day was done,
Heigho! the wind and rain;
But lacking was that loyal one,—
Ah, well-a-day! sad pain.

They found him on the battle-field,
Heigho! the wind and rain;

With broken sword and cloven shield,

Ah, well-a-day! in twain.

They found him pillowed on the dead,
Heigho! the wind and rain;

The blood-soaked scd his bridal bed,
Ah, well-a-day! the Slain.

And his pale brow and paler cheek,
Heigho! the wind and rain;

The white moonshine did fall so meek,
Ah, well-a-day! sad strain.

They lifted up the True and Brave,
Heigho! the wind and rain;

And bore him to his lone cold grave,
Ah, well-a-day! in pain.

They buried him on that far strand,

Heigho! the wind and rain;

His face turned towards his love's own land, Ah, well-a-day! how vain!

The wearied heart was laid at rest,

Heigho! the wind and rain; To dream of her he liked best,

Ah, well-a-day! again.

They nothing said, but many a tear,

Heigho! the wind and rain;

Rained down on that knight's lowly bier,

Ah, well-a-day! amain.

They nothing said, but many a sigh,

Heigho! the wind and rain;

Told how they wished like him to die,

Ah, well-a-day! sans stain.

With solemn mass and orison,

Heigho! the wind and rain;

They reared to him a cross of stone,

Ah, well-a-day! in pain.

And on it graved with daggers bright,
Heigho! the wind and rain:

"Here lies a true and gentle knight,"

Ah, well-a-day! Amen!

William Motherwell [1797-1835]

SIR GALAHAD

My good blade carves the casques of men,
My tough lance thrusteth sure,
My strength is as the strength of ten,
Because my heart is pure.

Sir Galahad

The shattering trumpet shrilleth high,
The hard brands shiver on the steel,
The splintered spear-shafts crack and fly,
The horse and rider reel:

They reel, they roll in clanging lists,

And when the tide of combat stands, Perfume and flowers fall in showers, That lightly rain from ladies' hands.

How sweet are looks that ladies bend
On whom their favors fall!

For them I battle till the end,

To save from shame and thrall: But all my heart is drawn above,

My knees are bowed in crypt and shrine:

I never felt the kiss of love,

Nor maiden's hand in mine.

More bounteous aspects on me beam,
Me mightier transports move and thrill;
So keep I fair through faith and prayer
A virgin heart in work and will.

When down the stormy crescent goes,
A light before me swims,
Between dark stems the forest glows,
I hear a noise of hymns:

Then by some secret shrine I ride;

I hear a voice, but none are there;
The stalls are void, the doors are wide,
The tapers burning fair.

Fair gleams the snowy altar-cloth,
The silver vessels sparkle clean,
The shrill bell rings, the censer swings,
And solemn chaunts resound between.

Sometimes on lonely mountain-meres
I find a magic bark;

I leap on board; no helmsman steers:
I float till all is dark.

2635