Delphi Poetry Anthology: The World's Greatest Poems (Delphi Poets Series Book 50)

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Delphi Poetry Anthology: The World's Greatest Poems (Delphi Poets Series Book 50) Page 57

by Homer

She sat her by the nut-browne bride,

  And her een they wer sae clear,

  Lord Thomas he clean forgat the bride,

  Whan Fair Annet drew near.

  He had a rose into his hand, 85

  He gae it kisses three,

  And reaching by the nut-browne bride,

  Laid it on Fair Annet’s knee.

  Up then spak the nut-browne bride,

  She spak wi meikle spite: 90

  “And whair gat ye that rose-water,

  That does mak yee sae white?”

  “O I did get the rose-water

  Whair ye wull neir get nane,

  For I did get that very rose-water 95

  Into my mither’s wame.”

  The bride she drew a long bodkin

  Frae out her gay head-gear,

  And strake Fair Annet unto the heart,

  That word spak nevir mair. 100

  Lord Thomas he saw Fair Annet wex pale,

  And marvelit what mote bee;

  But whan he saw her dear heart’s blude,

  A’ wood-wroth wexed hee.

  He drew his dagger, that was sae sharp, 105

  That was sae sharp and meet,

  And drave it into the nut-browne bride,

  That fell deid at his feit.

  “Now stay for me, dear Annet,” he sed,

  “Now stay, my dear,” he cry’d; 110

  Then strake the dagger untill his heart,

  And fell deid by her side.

  Lord Thomas was buried without kirkwa,

  Fair Annet within the quiere,

  And o the tane thair grew a birk, 115

  The other a bonny briere.

  And ay they grew, and ay they threw,

  As they wad faine be neare;

  And by this ye may ken right weil

  They were twa luvers deare. 120

  List of Poems in Alphabetical Order

  List of Poets in Alphabetical Order

  Love Gregor

  Traditional Ballads

  “O WHA will shoe my fu fair foot?

  And wha will glove my hand?

  And wha will lace my middle jimp,

  Wi the new made London band?

  “And wha will kaim my yellow hair, 5

  Wi the new made silver kaim?

  And wha will father my young son,

  Till Love Gregor come hame?”

  “Your father will shoe your fu fair foot,

  Your mother will glove your hand; 10

  Your sister will lace your middle jimp

  Wi the new made London band.

  “Your brother will kaim your yellow hair,

  Wi the new made silver kaim;

  And the king of heaven will father your bairn, 15

  Till Love Gregor come haim.”

  “But I will get a bonny boat,

  And I will sail the sea,

  For I maun gang to Love Gregor,

  Since he canno come hame to me.” 20

  O she has gotten a bonny boat,

  And sailld the sa’t sea fame;

  She langd to see her ain true-love,

  Since he could no come hame.

  “O row your boat, my mariners, 25

  And bring me to the land,

  For yonder I see my love’s castle,

  Closs by the sa’t sea strand.”

  She has taen her young son in her arms,

  And to the door she’s gone, 30

  And lang she’s knocked and sair she ca’d,

  But answer got she none.

  “O open the door, Love Gregor,” she says,

  “O open, and let me in;

  For the win blaws thro my yellow hair, 35

  And the rain draps oer my chin.”

  “Awa, awa, ye ill woman,

  You’r nae come here for good;

  You’r but some witch, or wile warlock,

  Or mer-maid of the flood.” 40

  “I am neither a witch nor a wile warlock,

  Nor mer-maid of the sea,

  I am Fair Annie of Rough Royal;

  O open the door to me.”

  “Gin ye be Annie of Rough Royal — 45

  And I trust ye are not she —

  Now tell me some of the love-tokens

  That past between you and me.”

  “O dinna you mind now, Love Gregor,

  When we sat at the wine, 50

  How we changed the rings frae our fingers?

  And I can show thee thine.

  “O yours was good, and good enneugh,

  But ay the best was mine;

  For yours was o the good red goud, 55

  But mine o the dimonds fine.

  “But open the door now, Love Gregor,

  O open the door I pray,

  For your young son that is in my arms

  Will be dead ere it be day.” 60

  “Awa, awa, ye ill woman,

  For here ye shanno win in;

  Gae drown ye in the raging sea,

  Or hang on the gallows-pin.”

  When the cock had crawn, and day did dawn, 65

  And the sun began to peep,

  Then it raise him Love Gregor,

  And sair, sair did he weep.

  “O I dreamd a dream, my mother dear,

  The thoughts o it gars me greet, 70

  That Fair Annie of Rough Royal

  Lay cauld dead at my feet.”

  “Gin it be for Annie of Rough Royal

  That ye make a’ this din,

  She stood a’ last night at this door, 75

  But I trow she wan no in.”

  “O wae betide ye, ill woman,

  An ill dead may ye die!

  That ye woudno open the door to her,

  Nor yet woud waken me.” 80

  O he has gone down to yon shore-side,

  As fast as he could fare;

  He saw Fair Annie in her boat,

  But the wind it tossed her sair.

  And “Hey, Annie!” and “How, Annie! 85

  O Annie, winna ye bide?”

  But ay the mair that he cried Annie,

  The braider grew the tide.

  And “Hey, Annie!” and “How, Annie!

  Dear Annie, speak to me!” 90

  But ay the louder he cried Annie,

  The louder roard the sea.

  The wind blew loud, the sea grew rough,

  And dashd the boat on shore;

  Fair Annie floats on the raging sea, 95

  But her young son raise no more.

  Love Gregor tare his yellow hair,

  And made a heavy moan;

  Fair Annie’s corpse lay at his feet,

  But his bonny young son was gone. 100

  O cherry, cherry was her cheek,

  And gowden was her hair,

  But clay cold were her rosy lips,

  Nae spark of life was there.

  And first he’s kissd her cherry cheek, 105

  And neist he’s kissed her chin;

  And saftly pressed her rosey lips,

  But there was nae breath within.

  “O wae betide my cruel mother,

  And an ill dead may she die! 110

  For she turnd my true-love frae my door,

  When she came sae far to me.”

  List of Poems in Alphabetical Order

  List of Poets in Alphabetical Order

  Bonny Barbara Allan

  Traditional Ballads

  IT was in and about the Martinmas time,

  When the green leaves were a falling,

  That Sir John Græme, in the West Country,

  Fell in love with Barbara Allan.

  He sent his man down through the town, 5

  To the place where she was dwelling:

  “O haste and come to my master dear,

  Gin ye be Barbara Allan.”

  O hooly, hooly rose she up,

  To the place where he was lying, 10

  And when she drew the curtain by,

  “Young man, I think you�
��re dying.”

  “O it’s I’m sick, and very, very sick,

  And ’tis a’ for Barbara Allan:”

  “O the better for me ye’s never be, 15

  Tho your heart’s blood were a spilling.

  “O dinna ye mind, young man,” said she,

  “When ye was in the tavern a drinking,

  That ye made the healths gae round and round,

  And slighted Barbara Allan?” 20

  He turned his face unto the wall,

  And death was with him dealing:

  “Adieu, adieu, my dear friends all,

  And be kind to Barbara Allan.”

  And slowly, slowly raise she up, 25

  And slowly, slowly left him,

  And sighing said, she coud not stay,

  Since death of life had reft him.

  She had not gane a mile but twa,

  When she heard the dead-bell ringing, 30

  And every jow that the dead-bell gied,

  It cry’d, Woe to Barbara Allan!

  “O mother, mother, make my bed!

  O make it saft and narrow!

  Since my love died for me to-day, 35

  I’ll die for him to-morrow.”

  List of Poems in Alphabetical Order

  List of Poets in Alphabetical Order

  The Gay Goss-Hawk

  Traditional Ballads

  “O WELL’S me o my gay goss-hawk,

  That he can speak and flee;

  He’ll carry a letter to my love,

  Bring back another to me.”

  “O how can I your true-love ken, 5

  Or how can I her know?

  Whan frae her mouth I never heard couth,

  Nor wi my eyes her saw.”

  “O well sal ye my true-love ken,

  As soon as you her see; 10

  For, of a’ the flowrs in fair Englan,

  The fairest flowr is she.

  “At even at my love’s bowr-door

  There grows a bowing birk,

  An sit ye down and sing thereon, 15

  As she gangs to the kirk.

  “An four-and-twenty ladies fair

  Will wash and go to kirk,

  But well shall ye my true-love ken,

  For she wears goud on her skirt. 20

  “An four and twenty gay ladies

  Will to the mass repair,

  But well sal ye my true-love ken,

  For she wears goud on her hair.”

  O even at that lady’s bowr-door 25

  There grows a bowin birk,

  An he set down and sang thereon,

  As she ged to the kirk.

  “O eet and drink, my marys a’,

  The wine flows you among, 30

  Till I gang to my shot-window,

  An hear yon bonny bird’s song.

  “Sing on, sing on, my bonny bird,

  The song ye sang the streen,

  For I ken by your sweet singin 35

  You’re frae my true-love sen.”

  O first he sang a merry song,

  An then he sang a grave,

  An then he peckd his feathers gray,

  To her the letter gave. 40

  Ha, there’s a letter frae your love,

  He says he sent you three;

  He canno wait your love langer,

  But for your sake he’ll die.

  “He bids you write a letter to him; 45

  He says he’s sent you five;

  He canno wait your love langer,

  Tho you’re the fairest woman alive.”

  “Ye bid him bake his bridal-bread,

  And brew his bridal-ale, 50

  An I’ll meet him in fair Scotlan

  Lang, lang or it be stale.”

  She’s doen her to her father dear,

  Fa’n low down on her knee:

  “A boon, a boon, my father dear, 55

  I pray you, grant it me.”

  “Ask on, ask on, my daughter,

  An granted it sal be;

  Except ae squire in fair Scotlan,

  An him you sall never see.” 60

  “The only boon, my father dear,

  That I do crave of thee,

  Is, gin I die in southin lands,

  In Scotlan to bury me.

  “An the firstin kirk that ye come till, 65

  Ye gar the bells be rung,

  An the nextin kirk that ye come till,

  Ye gar the mess be sung.

  “An the thirdin kirk that ye come till,

  You deal gold for my sake, 70

  An the fourthin kirk that ye come till,

  You tarry there till night.”

  She is doen her to her bigly bowr,

  As fast as she coud fare,

  An she has tane a sleepy draught, 75

  That she had mixed wi care.

  She’s laid her down upon her bed,

  An soon she’s fa’n asleep,

  And soon oer every tender limb

  Cauld death began to creep. 80

  Whan night was flown, an day was come,

  Nae ane that did her see

  But thought she was as surely dead

  As ony lady coud be.

  Her father an her brothers dear 85

  Gard make to her a bier;

  The tae half was o guid red gold,

  The tither o silver clear.

  Her mither an her sisters fair

  Gard work for her a sark; 90

  The tae half was o cambrick fine,

  The tither o needle wark.

  The firstin kirk that they came till,

  They gard the bells be rung,

  An the nextin kirk that they came till, 95

  They gard the mess be sung.

  The thirdin kirk that they came till,

  They dealt gold for her sake,

  An the fourthin kirk that they came till,

  Lo, there they met her make! 100

  “Lay down, lay down the bigly bier.

  Lat me the dead look on;”

  Wi cheery cheeks and ruby lips

  She lay an smil’d on him.

  “O ae sheave o your bread, true-love, 105

  An ae glass o your wine,

  For I hae fasted for your sake

  These fully days is nine.

  “Gang hame, gang hame, my seven bold brothers,

  Gang hame and sound your horn; 110

  An ye may boast in southin lans

  Your sister’s playd you scorn.”

  List of Poems in Alphabetical Order

  List of Poets in Alphabetical Order

  The Three Ravens

  Traditional Ballads

  THERE were three rauens sat on a tree,

  Downe a downe, hay down, hay downe

  There were three rauens sat on a tree,

  With a downe

  There were three rauens sat on a tree, 5

  They were as blacke as they might be.

  With a downe derrie, derrie, derrie, downe, downe.

  The one of them said to his mate,

  “Where shall we our breakefast take?”

  “Downe in yonder greene field, 10

  There lies a knight slain vnder his shield.

  “His hounds they lie downe at his feete,

  So well they can their master keepe.

  “His haukes they flie so eagerly,

  There’s no fowle dare him come nie.” 15

  Downe there comes a fallow doe,

  As great with yong as she might goe.

  She lift vp his bloudy hed,

  And kist his wounds that were so red.

  She got him vp vpon her backe, 20

  And carried him to earthen lake.

  She buried him before the prime,

  She was dead herselfe ere euen-song time.

  God send euery gentleman,

  Such haukes, such hounds, and such a leman. 25

  List of Poems in Alphabetical Order

  List of Poets in Alphabetical Order

  The
Twa Corbies

  Traditional Ballads

  AS I was walking all alane,

  I heard two corbies making a mane;

  The tane unto the t’ other say,

  “Where sall we gang and dine to-day?”

  “In behint yon auld fail dyke, 5

  I wot there lies a new slain knight;

  And naebody kens that he lies there,

  But his hawk, his hound, and lady fair.

  “His hound is to the hunting gane,

  His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame, 10

  His lady’s ta’en another mate,

  So we may mak our dinner sweet.

  “Ye’ll sit on his white hause-bane,

  And I’ll pike out his bonny blue een;

  Wi ae lock o his gowden hair 15

  We’ll theek our nest when it grows bare.

  “Mony a one for him makes mane,

  But nane sall ken where he is gane;

  Oer his white banes when they are bare,

  The wind sall blaw for evermair.” 20

  List of Poems in Alphabetical Order

  List of Poets in Alphabetical Order

  Sir Patrick Spence

  Traditional Ballads

  THE KING sits in Dumferling toune,

  Drinking the blude-reid wine:

  “O whar will I get guid sailor,

  To sail this schip of mine?”

 

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