CXXXVII THE DÆMON LOVER 'O where have you been, my long, long, love, This long seven years and more?' 'O I'm come to seek my former vows Ye granted me before.' "O hold your tongue of your former vows, O hold your tongue of your former vows, He turn'd him right and round about, 'I would never have trodden on Irish ground, If it had not been for thee. 'I might have had a king's daughter, I might have had a king's daughter, 'If ye might have had a king's daughter, Ye might have taken the king's daughter, 'O false are the vows of womankind, But fair is their false bodie; I never would have trodden on Irish ground Had it not been for love of thee.' T 'If I was to leave my husband dear, O what have you to take me to, 'I have seven ships upon the sea, She has taken up her two little babes, She set her foot upon the ship, No mariners could she behold; But the sails were of the taffetie, And the masts of the beaten gold. She had not sail'd a league, a league, The masts that were like the beaten gold And the sails that were of the taffetie They had not sail'd a league, a league, And she wept right bitterly. 'O hold your tongue of your weeping,' says he, 'Of your weeping now let me be; I will show you how the lilies grow 'O what hills are yon, yon pleasant hills, O what a mountain is yon,' she said, 'All so dreary with frost and snow?' 'O yon is the mountain of hell,' he cried, 'Where you and I will go.' And aye when she turn'd her round about Until that the tops of that gallant ship The clouds grew dark and the wind grew loud, And waesome wail'd the snow-white sprites He struck the topmast with his hand, The foremast with his knee; And he brake that gallant ship in twain, And sank her in the sea. Old Ballad CXXXVIII THE NIGHTINGALE AND THE GLOW WORM A Nightingale that all day long W. Cowper CXXXIX THE LADY TURNED SERVING-MAN You beauteous ladies great and small, Whereby that you may understand What I have suffer'd in this land. I was by birth a lady fair, My father's chief and only heir, And then my love built me a bower, But there came thieves late in the night, They robb'd my bower, and slew my knight, And after that my knight was slain I could no longer there remain. My servants all from me did fly With a heart more cold than any stone. Yet, though my heart was full of care, |