« ElőzőTovább »
In a kingdom by the sea,
By the name of Annabel Lee;
Than to love and be loved by me.
In this kingdom by the sea ;
I and my Annabel Lee ;
Coveted her and me.
In this kingdom by the sea,
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
And bore her away from me,
In this kingdom by the sea.
Went envying her and me;
In this kingdom by the sea)
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.
Of those who were older than we
Of many far wiser than we;
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
In her sepulchre there by the sea,
IF I had thought thou couldst have died,
I might not weep for thee;
That thou couldst mortal be:
The time would e'er be o'er,
And thou shouldst smile no more !
And think 'twill smile again ;
That I must look in vain !
What thou ne'er left'st unsaid ;
Sweet Mary! thou art dead.
All cold and all serene-
And where thy smiles have been !
Thou seemest still mine own;
And I am now alone !
Thou hast forgotten me ;
In thinking too of thee :
Of light ne'er seen before,
Twist ye, Twine ye
Twist ye, twine ye ! even so,
While the mystic twist is spinning,
To Lucasta, on going to the Wars
T'ELL me not (sweet) I am unkind,
That from the nunnery
To war and arms I fly.
True : a new mistress now I chase,
The first foe in the field ;
A sword, a horse, a shield.
As you too shall adore ;
The Demon Lover
'O WHERE have you been, my long, long love,
This long seven years and mair?' 'O I'm come to seek my former vows
Ye granted me before.'
For they will breed sad strife ;
For I am become a wife.'
And the tear blinded his e'e :
If it had not been for thee.
Far, far beyond the sea ;
Had it not been for love othee.'
Yer sel ye had to blame;
For ye kend that I was nane.'
But fair is their faulse bodie ;
Had it not been for love othee.
And my two babes also,
If with you I should go ?'
The eighth brought me to land ;
And music on every hand.'
Kissed them baith cheek and chin ; “O fare ye weel, my ain twa babes,
For I'll never see you again.'
She set her foot upon the ship,
No mariners could she belold; But the sails were o' the taffetie
And the masts o' the beaten gold.
She had not sailed a league, a league,
A league but barely three,
And drumlie grew his e'e.
The masts, that were like the beaten gold,
Bent not on the heaving seas ;
Fill'd not in the east land breeze.
They had not sailed a league, a league,
A league but barely three, Until she espied his cloven foot,
And she wept right bitterlie. "O hold your tongue of your weeping,' says he,
'Of your weeping now let me be ; I will show you how the lilies grow
On the banks of Italy.
• O what hills are yon, yon pleasant hills,
That the sun shines sweetly on?' 'Oyon are the hills of heaven,' he said,
Where you will never win.' 'O whaten a mountain is yon,' she said,
* All so dreary wi' frost and snow ?' Oyon is the mountain of hell,' he cried, • Where
and I will go.'
And aye when she turn'd her round about,
Aye taller he seemed to be ;
Nae taller were than he.
The clouds grew dark, and the wind grew loud,
And the leven filled her e'e ;
Upon the gurlie sea.