« PreviousContinue »
MONTGOMERY'S MATCHLESS MARGARET.
Ye lovers leal forbear to style
Your ladies fairest of the fair ;
And they maun hope to shine nae mair.
The brightest e'er in crowns was set,
Montgomery's matchless Margaret.
Her noble birth and royal blood;
Of native gifts and graces good-
Mair sweet than roses newly wet
But won not matchless Margaret.
The noblest that's beneath the sun :
And wander'd till my locks were wet
My loved, my matchless Margaret.
[A modernized version by Allan Cupningham. For the original words see Laing's Edition of Montgomery's Poems, p. 161.]
ARMSTRONG'S GOOD NIGHT.
This night is my departing night,
For here nae langer must I stay;
But wishes me away.
What I have done thro' lack of wit,
never, never can recall;
[“ These verses are said to have been composed by one of the Armstrongs, executed for the murder of Sir John Carmichael of Edrom, Warden of the Middle Marches."-Scott.
"The music of the most accomplished singer is dissonance to what I felt when an old dairy-maid sung me into tears with Johnie Arm. strong's Last Goodnight."-GOLDSMITH.
The above is printed from Sir Walter Scott's copy—there are many variations in lines and many fabrications of verses in different Ballad Books totally unworthy of being here inserted.]
I'LL NEVER LOVE THEE MORE.
JAMES GRAHAME, MARQUIS OF MONTROSE.
Born 1612-Hanged 1650.
My dear and only love, I pray
That little world of thee
But purest inonarchy;
For if confusion have a part,
Which virtuous souls abhor, I'll call a synod in my heart,
And never love thee more. As Alexander I will reign,
And I will reign alone, My thoughts did evermore disdain
A rival on my throne. He either fears his fate too much,
Or his deserts are small, Who dares not put it to the touch,
To gain or lose it all. But I will reign, and govern still,
And always give the law,
And all to stand in awe :
Thou storm or vex me sore,
I'll never love thee more. And in the empire of thy heart,
Where I should solely be, If others do pretend a part,
Or dare to share with me;
Or go on such a score,
And never love thee more.
Thy love and constant word, I'll make thee famous by my pen,
And glorious by my sword.
I'll serve thee in such noble ways,
As ne'er was known before ;
And love thee more and more.
[From Watson's Collection, 1711.)
THE BLYTHSOME BRIDAL.
FRANCIS SEMPLE OF BELTREES.
Fy let us a' to the bridal,
For there will be lilting there;
The lass wi' the gowden hair.
And bannocks o' barley-meal ;
To relish a cog of good ale.
And there will be Sawney the sutor,
And Will wi’ the meikle mou'; And there will be Tam the blutter,
With Andrew the tinkler, I trow; And there will be bow-legged Robie,
With thumbless Katy's goodman ; And there will be blue-checked Dobie,
And Laurie the laird of the land.