MAIDEN-SONG. L ONG ago and long ago, And long ago still, There dwelt three merry maidens One was tall Meggan, And one was dainty May, But one was fair Margaret, More fair than I can say, Long ago and long ago. When Meggan plucked the thorny rose, Half the beasts draw nigher; Half the fishes of the streams Would dart up to admire : But when Margaret plucked a flag-flower, Or poppy hot aflame, All the beasts and all the birds And all the fishes came To her hand more soft than snow. Strawberry leaves and May-dew Strawberry leaves and May-dew "I go for strawberry-leaves," "Fair Margaret can bide at home, So these two fair sisters Went with innocent will Up the hill and down again, And round the homestead hill : While the fairest sat at home, Margaret like a queen, Born to cling and lean; Thus she sat to sing and sew. When she raised her lustrous eyes A beast peeped at the door; When she downward cast her eyes A fish gasped on the floor; When she turned away her eyes A bird perched on the sill, Warbling out its heart of love, Warbling, warbling still, With pathetic pleadings low. Light-foot May with Meggan A gracious rest and play; Sun-glow flushed their comely cheeks, Wind-play tossed their hair, While shrill as bird on topmost twig Sped a herdsman from the vale, All on fire to hear and see With floating locks he came. Looked neither north nor south, Neither east nor west, But sat him down at Meggan's feet And wooed her with a silent awe, With trouble not expressed; She sang the tears into his eyes, The heart out of his breast: She sang the heart out of his breast, Then he spoke up from his place Scanty skill to woo; But I have a will to work, And a heart for you : Bid me stay or bid me go." Then Meggan mused within herself: "Better be first with him, Than dwell where fairer Margaret sits, Who shines my brightness dim, Forever second where she sits, However fair I be: I will be lady of his love, And he shall worship me; I will be lady of his herds And stoop to his degree, At home where kids and fatlings grow." Sped a shepherd from the height Headlong down to look, (White lambs followed, lured by love Of their shepherd's crook): He turned neither east nor west, But knelt right down to May, for love Trilled her song and swelled her song With maiden coy caprice In a labyrinth of throbs, Pauses, cadences; Clear-noted as a dropping brook, Soft-noted like the bees, He hung breathless on her breath ; Then he spoke, and spread his hands. |