Delphi Complete Poetical Works of Algernon Charles Swinburne (Illustrated) (Delphi Poets Series)

by Algernon Charles Swinburne

  There’s nae man of your name, Earl Robert,

  Shall get her fair body.

  O then he came by Waterswa’,

  The rain was sair and strang;

  Fair Annie sat in a bower-window,

  And her gold hair was grown lang.

  Gin I might swim to ye, Robert,

  I wad never spare for gloves or gown;

  I wad never spare for the cold water,

  But I have sore fear to drown.

  Now God thee hold, thou fair Annie,

  The wa’s are hard to leap;

  The water is ill to swim, Annie,

  And the brigg is ill to keep.

  Gin I should open to ye, Robert,

  I wis it were open shame:

  It were great pity of me, Robert,

  For I gang but sick and lame.

  O twice I cuttit the silk string through

  That was upon my back;

  And twice I cuttit the gown away

  That wadn’a haud me slack.

  It’s ill wi’ me the night, Robert,

  It’s weel wi’ my leman;

  For the wine that comes in my fingers,

  I spill it on my han’;

  And the meat that’s in my very mouth,

  I wot it feeds a man.

  Gin I may win to ye, Annie,

  I think ye’ll keep me weel.

  I were the liefer of you, Robert,

  But for the doors of shut steel.

  Gin I may win to ye, Annie,

  The tane o’ us should weel fare.

  There’s three men keep the ways, Robert,

  Between the gate and the water-stair.

  I wot the night there’s deep water,

  Runs red upon the brim:

  It’s full between the wa’s, Annie,

  This were but ill to swim.

  There’s rain the night in Carrilees,

  I wot the rain is rank;

  There be twa fathoms of strang water

  Between it bank and bank.

  But he’s rid out through Carrilees’ brow,

  I wot, baith wet and wan;

  Annie lay in her chamber-window,

  She was a glad woman.

  Between the gate and the water-stair

  He made him room to stand;

  The wet ran frae his knees and feet,

  It ran upon his hand.

  And he’s won through to her chamber,

  He’s kissed her neist the chin:

  “O gin ye’ll keep me out, Annie,

  Is there ony will take me in?”

  Up then gat her auld father,

  Between the wall and her bed feet;

  “Is there ony breath in your lips, Earl Robert,

  To gar a dead mouth smell sweet?”

  He’s tane her by the gold girdle,

  He’s garr’d it break atwain;

  There’s nae room here for Earl Robert,

  The ways are sae fou’ o’ rain.

  He’s tane a keen sword in his hand,

  He’s set him to the wa’;

  And the very heart’s blood of Earl Robert,

  I wot he’s garr’d it fa’.

  Out then spak she, fair Annie,

  At the bed’s foot where she lay;

  “There’s a time for you the night, father,

  And a time for us the day.

  “O gin ye dig na deep, father,

  I wot ye maun dig wide;

  And set my lord to the nether hand,

  And my bairn to the green side.

  “Ye’ll set my head to his foot, father,

  That he be neist the sun;

  For a’ that was between us twa,

  I think it’s a’ weel done.”

  THE KING’S AE SON

  Quo’ the bracken-bush to the wan well-head,

  “O whatten a man is this man dead?”

  “O this is the King’s ae son,” quo’ she,

  “That lies here dead upon my knee.”

  “What will ye do wi’ the King’s ae son?”

  “The little fishes shall feed him on.”

  “What will ye strew for his body’s bed?”

  “Green stanes aneath his head.”

  “What will ye gie for his body’s grace?”

  “Green leaves abune his face.”

  “What will ye do wi’ the rings on his hand?”

  “Hide them ower wi’ stane and sand.”

  “What will ye do wi’ the gowd in his hair?”

  “Hide it ower wi’ rushes fair.”

  “What shall he have when the hill-winds blow?”

  “Cauld rain and routh of snow.”

  “What shall he get when the birds fly in?”

  “Death for sorrow, and sorrow for sin.”

  “What shall come to his father, the King?”

  “Long life and a heavy thing.”

  “What shall come to his mother, the Queen?”

  “Grey hairs and a bitter teen.”

  “What to his leman, that garr’d him be slain?”

  “Hell’s pit and hell’s pain.”

  LADY MAISIE’S BAIRN

  “GIN ye winna cease for the pity of him,

  O cease for the pity of me;

  There was never bairn born of a woman

  Between the sea-wind and the sea,

  There was never bairn born of a woman

  That was born so bitterly.”

  The ship drove hard upon the wind,

  I wot it drove full mightily;

  But the fair gold sides upon the ship

  They were bursten with the sea.

  “O I am sae fain for you, Lord John,

  Gin ye be no sae fain;

  How shall I bear wi’ my body,

  It is sae full of pain?

  “O I am sae fain of your body,

  Ye are no sae fain of me;”

  But the sails are riven wi’ the wind

  And the sides are full of sea.

  O when she saw the sails riven,

  The sair pain bowed her back;

  But when she saw the sides bursten,

  I wot her very heart brak.

  The wind waxed in the sea between,

  The rain waxed in the land;

  Lord John was happéd wi’ saut sea-faem,

  Lady Maisie wi’ sea-sand;

  And the little bairn between them twa

  That was to her right hand.

  The rain rains sair on Duriesdyke

  To the land side and the sea;

  There was never bairn born of a woman

  That was born mair bitterly.

  WEARIESWA’

  THE wind wears ower the Wearieswa’

  To the right and the left hand;

  The wind wears ower by the Wearieswa’

  And under by the sea-sand.

  Every bolt in Wearieswa’

  Wi’ siller was it sparred;

  Every gate in Wearieswa’

  Wi’ red gold was it barred.

  Every window in Wearieswa’

  It was hasped in nickal keen;

  Every bower in Wearieswa’

  It was set wi’ rushes clean.

  There wonneth a woman in the Wearieswa’,

  A strong spell is her upon;

  He that shall kiss her mouth for love

  Of his life he is fordone.

  There is nae man made of a woman

  As the grass grows and the corn,

  But gin he have kissed that lady’s mouth

  Of his lips he is forlorn.

  Lord Robert is ridden to the Wearieswa’

  Between the low ling and the heather hie

  A wind was comen out of Wearieswa’

  Between the hielands and the sea.

  O whatten a wind is this weary wind

  A weary wind to me?

  It’s neither a scart o’ the mill-water,

  Nor yet a wind o’ the sea.

  Lady Janet looked ower by a little window,

  S
he was fain of any man;

  For the lack of love that was her in

  All her body was wan.

  She’s laid her chin out ower the wa’ stanes,

  All her body was weak;

  The tears fell over in her face wan,

  Betwixen mouth and cheek.

  Gin I kissed that lady on her lips

  The better man would I be;

  . Gin I kissed that lady on her hands twain

  ‘Twere pain of my body.

  O gin ye should kiss my weary hands

  Your teen would be fu’ sair;

  And gin ye should kiss my heavy mouth

  Your teen wad be mickle mair.

  But ye’ll gae down to yon wan water-side,

  Gar make a ship of ashen tree;

  And ye maun sail by seven ways

  Between the faem and the green sea.

  The first water ye’ll sail upon

  Men call it Wearieswyte;

  Whoso cometh to that water

  He shall have little delight

  The neist water ye’ll sail upon

  Men call it Wearieswan;

  Whoso cometh to that water

  He is nae sicker man.

  The neist water ye’ll sail upon

  Men call it Weariesway;

  Whoso cometh to that water

  He wins the better away.

  The neist water ye’ll sail upon

  Men call it Wearieswoe;

  Whoso cometh to that water

  He shall neither stand nor go.

  The neist water ye’ll sail upon

  Men call it Weariesween;

  Whoso cometh to that water

  Of his body he shall have teen.

  The neist water ye’ll sail upon

  Men call it Weariesyett;

  Whoso cometh to that water

  An ill wonning he shall get

  The last water ye’ll sail upon

  Men call it Wearieshead;

  Whoso cometh to that water

  It were better for him to be dead.

  And gin the sair sea scathe you not

  Nor the sea-worms in the sea,

  This weary weird that is me upon

  Ye shall take off from me.

  And gin the water win you not upon

  Ye shall have good harbouring,

  When ye come back to Wearieswa’,

  About the fair birk flowering.

  And ye maun be yoursell alane

  And I with a’ my men,

  And ye maun stand low down them amang

  To see if I shall you ken.

  Gin the wan water win me not upon

  Between the sea-banks and the sea,

  Then I’ll come back for your sake, Janet, —

  A token I’ll hae wi’ me.

  But how shall ye be seen, Hynd Robert,

  O how shall ye be known,

  Amang so mony gentlemen

  That wear the gold alone?

  O where they wear the goodly bright gold

  I shall wear yellow and black;

  And a little green hood behind my hair

  To hang down at my back.

  But how shall ye be kent, Janet,

  Or how shall ye be seen,

  Amang so many goodly ladies

  That ye maun gang between?

  O where they wear a ring, Robert,

  I shall wear two and three,

  And a girdle with a fair white stane,

  And by that ye shall ken me.

  And where they wear but yellow lammer,

  I shall wear siller sheen;

  And where they gang like a queen’s handmaids,

  I shall gang like a queen.

  A kell o’ gowd abune my head

  And a band abune my eebree,

  And in every o’ them a jewel stone

  My witness for to be;

  And half my kirtle of red sendal

  To hang down at my knee;

  And half my kirtle of brown sendal

  That shall be wrought to me.

  And the shoon on my feet of yellow samite

  And by that ye shall me see.

  He’s made him a ship o’ the goodly ash

  The sides thereof were wan;

  The first water he sailed upon

  He was the heavier man.

  A’ the oars were wrought of gold

  And a’ the sails of red;

  The last water he sailed upon

  He seemed he was but dead.

  But he’s won back to Wearieswa’

  That was hard on a great sea;

  His hair was fu’ of the wan sea-water

  And he halted of his knee.

  Between the sea and the sea-banks

  He’s let his bonny ship stand;

  His clothes were fu’ of the wan rain-water

  And he halted of his hand.

  O I will draw to me a weed,

  A weed baith poor and low,

  And I will gang before my lady’s face,

  To see if she will me know.

  And he has drawn to him a weed

  A weed of yellow and black;

  But there was nae hood behind his hair

  To hang down at his back.

  The first gate that he came to

  It was little for his delight;

  The knappies that were that gate upon

  They were hewn of siller white.

  The last gate that he came by

  It was little for his ease;

  Before he had well won ower it,

  The blood ran frae his knees.

  The neist gate that he came by

  His comfort was waxen cold;

  Every bolt that gate within

  It was carven of red gold.

  And he’s gane up to the high chamber,

  He’s found that lady there,

  The red sendal on her body,

  And the red gold in her hair.

  And as he stood low and very low

  Amang thae goodly men;

  He stood amang them hoodless,

  There was nae man did him ken.

  And she spied him weel and very weel

  Gin she might his body see;

  O wha is yon gangs hoodless,

  For my love it mauna be.

  And she sought weel and very weel

  Gin she might him behold;

  She was mair fair of his fair body

  Than the rain is of the mould.

  And a’ the men that were her before

  They were red and nothing wan;

  And when she saw his goodly face,

  She weened it was another man.

  And when she looked his face upon,

  It was wan and nothing red,

  And a’ his hair was riven wi’ rain

  That rained upon his head.

  O ye’ll take out yon hoodless man,

  That hirples on the marl;

  I thought it were my love, Hynd Robert,

  It is but a hireman carl.

  And ye’ll take out yon gangrel fellow

  That hirples on the clay;

  I thought it were my love, Hynd Robert,

  That hae been lang away.

  He’s taen him down to yon wan water-stand,

  The tears fell ower his een;

  Before he was weel in his goodly ship

  The wind began to ween.

  He’s turned his face to the fair leeland,

  He was right fu’ o’ care;

  Before he was weel upon the sea,

  The water was waxen sair.

  Ye’ll cast me in the heavy water

  That is both green and black,

  And ye’ll bind my feet with a twine of silk;

  Pray for the storms to slack.

  Ye’ll cast me in the weary water

  That is both green and grey,

  And ye’ll bind my arms upon my back;

  Pray for the rains to stay.

  And they’ve cast over his fair body

 
In the water that was sae white;

  And they drove over before the wind

  A day’s space and a night.

  The first wave that cam nigh the ship

  It smote her in the side;

  And ever alas! quo’ the ae first man,

  “This water is ill to bide!”

  The neist wave that cam nigh the ship,

  It smote her in the head;

  “Haul round, haul round,” quo’ the eldest man,

  “This water maun be our deidl.”

  And they spied ower the wan sea wide

  To see gin ony help might be;

  And there they saw him, Hynd Robert,

  That fleeted upright in the sea.

  And they spied out upon the sea,

  It was a weary water and wan;

  And there they saw him, Hynd Robert

  That fleeted as a living man.

  “O whatten a weird is this, Hynd Robert,

  That is of your body,

  To fleet out ower in the easterin’ wind

  That thraws upon the sea?”

  The wind shall blaw in the wan water,

  It shall never slack for me,

  Till ye bring my lady to yon sea-sand,

  Cast her body in the sea.

  The wind shall thraw in the wild water;

  I wot it shall never bide,

  Till ye bring that lady to your sea-banks,

  Cast her body ower the ship’s side.

  They’ve had that lady to yon sea-banks

  And ower by yon heather hie;

  They bound her hands before her face,

  Cast her body in the sea.

  THE EARL OF MAR’S DAUGHTER

  IT was intill a goodly time,

  The first morning in May,