That eyes of none should weep for me.
O what have ye done with your straight bright sword,
That shone so for the gold of it?
It slipped in the water of the ford,
Where my right hand left hold of it.
O what have ye done with your fair new bride,
I would be lying at her side,
And O but she were glad of me!
O what have ye done with the soft warm hair
She cut from off the head of her?
I laid it on her bosom bare,
And no more shall be said of her.
A LAY OF LILIES
There be five lilies growing on a hill;
There be five maidens dwelling under it.
Square sets the grey gaunt castle where they dwell,
And thro’ dead grass the moths at evening flit
About and under it.
The girls are like the lilies, very white.
The first is fairest for her pale hair’s gold,
One for her cheeks, one for her eyes’ delight,
One for her smile round which the dimples fold,
One for her warm lips’ mould.
Five lilies blow about the blowing hill,
And the five maidens walk by three and two
Each morning from the grey place where they dwell,
To feel the wind wherein those lilies blow.
All this is years ago.
And the first every morning that she came
Put her pure lips upon the petals pure,
And her hair on the sceptre’s golden flame
Which standeth like a planted spear secure
Straight in the petals pure.
The second every time would stoop and take
One leaf ; so day by day the lily sank
From the stalk bare as winter for her sake;
And day by day the torn petals shrank
Till all the lily sank.
THE QUEEN’S TRAGEDY
I do not think that God has cared for us.
I said that, seeing when they took my lord
And got about him with their wicked hands,
Their long brown fingers clenched about his hair,
And smote and slew him. Do not touch me, girls;
I did not bid you swarm all round my bed
With faces heaped on faces; for indeed
And I may strike you if you trouble me.
Now sometimes, if my lord would come to me
Out of the hot black ceremonial troop
Wherethro’ I see him riding in my dreams,
I would not kiss him on the buried mouth;
For, verily, I tell you as things be,
There have been worms about it. See my lips,
Shall they kiss where the worms have been? for once
He said, Those lips have caught the lips,
Shall they kiss where the worms have been? for once
He said, Those lips have caught the shadowed crown
Of petals stained with sunlight in their dew,
So the dear smile clings at them, comes and goes,
And makes me faint with wonder of her smile.’
I pray you very humbly of my love,
Let not the fair light hurt me; so it comes
And crawls about me, sliding out and in,
Till one must weep or curse, and I would rest.
I do not love the sky nor light that grows
Up in the morning, slow as if a prayer I with my heart,
Began to alter in the dying voice,
And trembled and clomb higher in the throat.
That is the sky’s prayer, prayed in psalms of light;
And prayer is vain. Moreover I have prayed
And seen no face of God nor any saint,
And have not peace; so I hate light, for there
Sits God with all His saints and laugh at me,
They mock me in the sun and in the moon,
They mock me in the rainfall and the stars.
Dear Christ, if they had only strangled him,
If they had only stabbed him where he slept,
His hands in mine, his face against the lamp,
The lamp that made thin patterns on the wall,
I think I could have lived then, certainly..
I had been very patient, and Thou, Lord,
Hadst wondered for my patience and come down
To help me, putting Thy calm hands in mine
Even where his lay, and spoken blessed words,
And loosened all my heart to make me die.
I know not why men call Thee merciful;
For this was not. And now Thou seest me here,
I wonder in Thy light and in Thy shade, I scorn.
BORDER BALLADS
LORD SOULIS
LORD SOULIS is a keen wizard,
A wizard mickle of lear:
Who cometh in bond of Lord Soulis,
Thereof he hath little cheer.
He has three braw castles to his hand,
That wizard mickle of age;
The first of Estness, the last of Westness,
The middle of Hermitage.
He has three fair mays into his hand,
The least is good to see;
The first is Annet, the second is Janet,
The third is Marjorie.
The firsten o’ them has a gowden crown,
The neist has a gowden ring;
The third has sma’ gowd her about,
She has a sweeter thing.
The firsten o’ them has a rose her on,
The neist has a marigold;
The third of them has a better flower,
The best that springeth ower wold.
The kisses that are her mouth within,
There is no man knoweth of any one;
She is a pure maid of her body,
The best that standeth under sun.
And Estness was a bonny castle,
It stood upon a sea;
The green for Ann et, the yellow for Janet,
The brown for Marjorie.
And Westness was a bonny castle,
It lay upon a lea;
Red wine for Annet, and white for Janet,
And water for Marjorie.
But Hermitage is a fair castle,
The fairest of the three;
Saft beds for Annet, silk sheets for Janet,
Nane sheets for Marjorie.
He made them a’ by strong cunning,
That wizard great of hand;
The twain to fall at his life’s ending,
The third alway to stand.
He made them a’ by hell’s cunning,
That wizard full of ill;
They burnt up Estness and cast down Westness,
But Hermitage standeth still.
There be twenty lords in that border,
Full twenty strong lords and three,
They have sworn an oath for Lord Soulis,
Weel wroken of him to be.
They have set a meeting at Emmethaugh,
And upon the Lilienshaw,
They will be wroken of Lord Soulis,
His body to hang and draw.
They have broken bread between them a’
At Ottershawe that’s ower the lea,
They wad plunder Estness and harry Westness,
But Hermitage they let be.
They, watered steeds by the wan Wellhaugh
Under the sweet leaves green;
Frae the Yethburn head to Christenbury,
To ride they were full keen.
When they were come to the Yethbum spait,
I wot their knees were wet;
When they were come to the Yethburn head,
There was no porter at tha yett.
When they had won to the Bloody-bush,
I wot their sides were sair:
Before they were well upon that border
They had mickle sorrow and care.
“O gin we were at the sweet Wellhaugh,
Under the merry leaves fair!”
Before they were well on the other side
He set a sair cast them between —
“O gin we were by the Emmetburn
Under the little leaves green,
Between the birks and the Emmet water,
We had the better been.”
When they came on that weary border,
He sent an ill thing them amang;
“We winna ride ower to Hermitage,
The wa’s they are too strang;
But we will ride to the low castles,
Though the ways be ill to gang.”
Out then spak Burd Marjorie’s lover,
He was a fair man of his face;
“Gin I may be wroken of Lord Soulis
I have sma’ care of my place;
“Gin I may be wroken of Lord Soulis
I have sma’ care of ony thing;
Of the wine for shedding, the sheets for
wedding,
The kirk for christening.
“I have sma’ care of my sad body
Upon the ground to gang;
Gin I wist where I might be wroken of him
I wad give it to him strang.”
Out then spak may Janet’s brother,
He was a stout knight and a keen;
“He has sent his devils us amang
To work us trouble and teen.
“Gin I wist where I might be wroken of him,
Betwixen dark and day,
I wad give baith my soul and body
To hell to fetch away.”
Out then spak Burd Annet’s father,
He was a good man full of age;
“Ye’ll speir at Estness, ye’ll speir at Westness,
But no at Hermitage.”
They turned their horse-heads round about,
Rode low down by the sand;
And a’ the way they went upon,
The devil went at their hand.
The first castle they came to,
It stood upon a sea;
The least worth chamber in a’ that castle,
It was a’ whalestooth and sandal-tree.
“O whatten a may is yonder may,
Sae fair to see upon?”
“O yonder is my daughter Annet,
Out of my ha’s was gone.”
“Gin ye’ll come hither to me, Annet,
God’s grace of me ye’se have.”
“I wadna gang out, my auld fool father,
Gin ye were graithed in your grave.”
“Give me three kisses, my daughter Annet,
Before my mouth is cold.”
“I winna come forth for nae man’s grey beard,
Till my bairn be a sennight old.”
He turned his face against the sea,
His heart brak right atwain;
“The fire of hell for your body, Annet,
Ere ye behold me again.”
“Pull off the green, and the goodly green,
Put on the black, the black,
For my father is ridden to Wearyland,
I doubt he’ll never win back.”
They turned their horse-heads round about,
Rode high upon a hill;
And a’ the gate they gaed about,
The devil them garred gang ill.
The neister castle they came to,
It was hard upon the low champaign;
The least worth bower in a’ that castle,
It was a’ white siller and green stane.
“O whatten a may is yonder may
That is sae great of her body?”
“O yonder is my sister Janet,
Was stolen by night frae me.
“Gin ye’ll come hither to me, Janet,
God’s love of me ye’se hae.”
“I wadna gang out for aye, brither,
Though ye were dead the day.”
“O ye’ll gang down to me, Janet,
For God’s sweet mercy and mine;
For I have sought ye the lang lands ower,
These eight months wearing nine.”
“I winna gang forth for nae brither,
Though his body should be lorn;
I winna gang forth for nae man’s face,
Till Lord Soulis’ bairn be bom.”
He turned his face against the brigg,
His heart brak right in three;
“The sorrow of hell for you, Janet,
And the warld’s sorrow for me.”
“Take down the red, and the bonny red,
Set up the black, the black:
For my brother is ridden to Wearieswood,
I wot he’ll never win back.”
They turned their horse-heads round about,
Rode back a day and twain:
And a’ the rivers they rode upon
The devil rode at their rein.
The third castle they came to,
It was the castle of Hermitage;
There is nae man may break the sides of it,
Though the stanes therein are great of age.
“O whatten a may is yonder may,
That looks like ony flower?”
“O yon is my very love, Marjorie,
Was borne out of my bower.”
The bower Lady Marjorie was in,
It had neither white cloths nor red,
There were nae rushes to the bower floors,
And nae pillows to the bed.
“O will ye come down but a very little,
For God’s sake or for me?
Or will ye kiss me a very little,
But six poor kisses and three?”
She’s leaned hersell to that window,
For sorrow she couldna stand;
She’s bound her body by that window,
With iron at her hand.
She’s sworn by tree and by tree’s leaf,
By aits and rye and corn,
“Gin ye hadna come the night,” she says,
“I had been but dead the morn.”
She’s kissed him under the bower-bar
Nine goodly times and ten;
And forth is come that keen wizard
In the middest of his men.
And forth is come that foul wizard,
God give him a curse and caret
Says “the life is one time sweet to have
And the death is three times sair.”
Forth is come that strong wizard,
God give him a heavy day!
Says “ye shall have joy of your leman’s body
When April cometh after May.”
Between the hill and the wan water
In fields that were full sweet,
There was riding and running together,
And many a man gat red-shod feet.
Between the wa’s and the Hermitage water,
In ways that were waxen red
There was cleaving of caps and shearing of jack,
And many a good man was there dead.
They have taken that strong wizard
To bind him by the hands:
The links of airn brast off his body
Like splints of bursten birken wands.
And they have taken that keen wizard
To bind him by the hause-bane;
The links of aim brast off his body
As blossom that is burst wi’ rain.
And they have taken that foul wizard
To bind him by the feet:
The links of airn brast off his body
As berries that are burst with heat
They have putten fire upon his flesh,
For nae fire wad it shrink:
They have casten his body in the wan well-head,
For nae water wad it sink.
Up then gat the fiend Borolallie,
Bade them “Give ower and let me:
Between warld’s fire and warld’s water
He gat a gift of me;
<
br /> Till fire come out of wan water,
There’s nane shall gar him dee.”
“A rede, a rede, thou foul Borolallie,
A good rede out of hand;
Shall we be wroken of Lord Soulis
By water or by land?
Or shall we be wroken a great way off,
Or even whereas we stand?”
And up it spak him, foul Borolallie,
Between the tree and the leaf o’ the tree;
“Ye maunna be wroken of Lord Soulis
By land neither by sea;
Between red fire and wan water
Weel wroken ye shall be.”
And up it spak him, foul Borolallie,
Between Lord Soulis and them a’:
“Ye maunna be wroken of Lord Soulis
Betwixen house and ha’;
But ye maun take him to the Ninestane rigs
And take his life awa’.”
They have taken him to the Ninestane rigs
His foul body to slay;
Between the whins and the whinstanes
He had a weary way.
They have taken him to the Ninestane rigs
His foul body to spill:
Between the green broom and the yellow
He gat a bitter ill.
They had a sair cast with his foul body,
There was nae man wist what to do;
“And O gin his body were weel sodden,
Weel sodden and suppit in broo!”
And out it spak him, foul Borolallie,
Says “whatten a coil’s this coil?
Ye’ll mak a fire on the Ninestane rigs,
For a pot thereon to boil.”
And out it spak him, foul Borolallie,
Says “whatten a din’s this din?
Ye’ll boil his body within the brass,
The brass to boil him in.”
They boiled his body on the Ninestane rigs
Delphi Complete Poetical Works of Algernon Charles Swinburne (Illustrated) (Delphi Poets Series) Page 157