BURD HELEN. 135 BURD HELEN. I WISH I were where Helen lies; Curst be the heart that thought the thought, O think na but my heart was sair When my Love dropt down and spak nae mair! As I went down the water-side, I lighted down my sword to draw, For her sake that died for me. O Helen fair, beyond compare! 136 BURD HELEN. O that I were where Helen lies! O Helen fair! O Helen chaste! I wish my grave were growing green, On fair Kirconnell Lee. I wish I were where Helen lies! For her sake that died for me. Anonymous. EDWARD OF THE BLOODY BRAND. 137 EDWARD OF THE BLOODY BRAND. "WHY does your brand so drop with blood? Why does your brand so drop with blood, "O! I have killed my hawk so good, O! I have killed my hawk so good, "Your hawk's blood was never so red, Your hawk's blood was never so red, "O! I have killed my red roan steed, O! I have killed my red roan steed, "Your steed was old and ye have got more, Your steed was old and ye have got more, 138 EDWARD OF THE BLOODY BRAND. "O! I have killed my father dear, Mother! Mother! O! I have killed my father dear, "And what penance will ye drie for that? And what penance will ye drie for that? "I'll set my feet in yonder boat, Mother! Mother! I'll set my feet in yonder boat, "And what will you do with your towers and your hall? Edward! Edward! And what will you do with your towers and your hall, That were so fair to see, O?" "I'll let them stand till they down fall, Mother! Mother! I'll let them stand till they down fall, For here never more must I be, O!” "And what will you leave to your bairns and your wife? Edward! Edward! And what will you leave to your bairns and your wife, When you go over the sea, O?” "The world's room, let them beg through life, Mother! Mother! The world's room, let them beg through life, A SONG OF INDIFFERENCE. "And what will you leave to your own mother dear? And what will you leave to your own mother dear? "The curse of hell from me shall you bear, The curse of hell from me shall you bear, Sir David Dalrymple (Lord Hailes). A SONG OF INDIFFERENCE. BLOW, blow, thou winter wind, As man's ingratitude; Thy tooth is not so keen Because thou art not seen, Although thy breath be rude. Heigh ho! sing heigh ho! unto the green holly: Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, Thou dost not bite so nigh Though thou the waters warp, Thy sting is not so sharp As friend remember'd not. Heigh ho! sing heigh ho! unto the green holly: This life is most jolly. W. Shakespeare. 139 |