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JOANNA BAILLIE (1762-1851)

From THE BEACON

1812

FISHERMAN'S SONG

No fish stir in our heaving net,

And the sky is dark and the night is wet; And we must ply the lusty oar, For the tide is ebbing from the shore; 5 And sad are they whose faggots burn, So kindly stored for our return.

Our boat is small, and the tempest raves, And naught is heard but the lashing waves And the sullen roar of the angry sea 10 And the wild winds piping drearily; Yet sea and tempest rise in vain, We'll bless our blazing hearths again.

Push bravely, mates! Our guiding star Now from its towerlet streameth far, 15 And now along the nearing strand, See, swiftly moves yon flaming brand: Before the midnight watch be past We'll quaff our bowl and mock the blast.

10

WOO'D AND MARRIED AND A'

1822

The bride she is winsome and bonny,
Her hair it is snooded1 sae sleek,
And faithfu' and kind is her Johnny,
Yet fast fa' the tears on her cheek.
5 New pearlins2 are cause of her sorrow,
New pearlins and plenishing3 too;
The bride that has a' to borrow
Has e'en right mickle ado.

Woo'd and married and a'!
Woo'd and married and a'!
Is na' she very weel aff

To be woo'd and married at a'?

Her mither then hastily spak,

"The lassie is glaikit1 wi' pride;

15 In my pouch I had never a plack
On the day when I was a bride.
E'en tak to your wheel and be clever,
And draw out your thread in the sun;
The gear that is gifted' it never
Will last like the gear that is won.

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She's ta'en like a cout1 frae the heather,
Wi' sense and discretion to learn.
Half husband, I trow, and half daddy,
As humor inconstantly leans,

The chiel2 maun3 be patient and steady
That yokes wi' a mate in her teens.

A kerchief sae douce and sae neat
O'er her locks that the wind used to
blaw!

I'm baith like to laugh and to greet When I think of her married at a'!''

Then out spak the wily bridegroom,
Weel waled were his wordies, I ween,
"I'm rich, though my coffer be toom,
Wi' the blinks o' your bonny blue e'en.
I'm prouder o' thee by my side,

Though thy ruffles or ribbons be few, Than if Kate o' the Croft were my bride Wi' purfles and pearlins enow.

Dear and dearest of ony!

Ye're woo'd and buikits and a'! And do ye think scorn o' your Johnny, And grieve to be married at a'?"

She turn'd, and she blush'd, and she smiled,

And she looked sae bashfully down; The pride o' her heart was beguiled,

And she played wi' the sleeves o' her

gown.

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A SCOTCH SONG
1822

The gowan12 glitters on the sward,
The lavrock's18 in the sky,

And collie on my plaid keeps ward, And time is passing by.

Oh no! sad and slow.

And lengthened on the ground,
The shadow of our trysting bush,
It wears so slowly round!

My sheep-bell tinkles frae the west,
My lambs are bleating near,

But still the sound that I lo'e best,

1 colt

2 fellow

3 must

4 tidy

$ chosen

6 empty

7 trimmings

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een,

The lovely lass of Preston Mill.

Quo' I, "Sweet lass, will ye gang wi' me,
Where blackcocks craw, and plovers
cry?

Six hills are woolly wi' my sheep,
Six vales are lowing wi' my kye:
I hae looked lang for a weel-faur'd1 lass,
By Nithsdale's holmes2 an' monie a
hill;"

She hung her head like a dew-bent rose,-
The lovely lass of Preston Mill.

25 Quo' I, "Sweet maiden, look nae down,
But gie's a kiss, and gang wi' me:"
A lovelier face, O, never looked up,
And the tears were drapping frae her ee:

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“I hae a lad, wha's far awa',

That weel could win a woman's will;
My heart's already fu' o' love,"

Quo' the lovely lass of Preston Mill.

"Now wha is he wha could leave sic a lass, To seek for love in a far countree?"35 Her tears drapped down like simmer dew; I fain wad kissed them frae her ee. I took but ane o' her comely cheek; "For pity's sake, kind sir, be still! My heart is fu' o' other love,"

40

Quo' the lovely lass of Preston Mill.

She stretched to heaven her twa white hands,

And lifted up her watery ee:

"Sae lang's my heart kens aught o' God, Or light is gladsome to my ee;

45 While woods grow green, and burns rin

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And cauld at my feet,

And the finger o' death's at my een, Closing them to sleep.

Let nane tell my father,

Or my mither sae dear:

I'll meet them baith in heaven

At the spring o' the year.

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When the kye comes hame,

When the kye comes hame, "Tween the gloaming and the mirk,1

When the kye comes hame.

"Tis not beneath the coronet,
Nor canopy of state,

15 'Tis not on couch of velvet,
Nor arbor of the great-
'Tis beneath the spreading birk,2
In the glen without the name,
Wi' a bonnie, bonnie lassie,
When the kye comes hame.

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When the kye comes hame, etc.

There the blackbird bigs her nest
For the mate he lo'es to see,
And on the topmost bough,

Oh, a happy bird is he;

Where he pours his melting ditty,

And love is a' the theme,
And he'll woo his bonnie lassie
When the kye comes hame.

When the kye comes hame, etc.

When the blewart bears a pearl,
And the daisy turns a pea,
And the bonnie lucken-gowan
Has fauldit up her ee,

35 Then the laverock' frae the blue lifts
Drops down, an' thinks nae shame
To woo his bonnie lassie
When the kye comes hame,
When the kye comes hame, etc.

40 See yonder pawkie" shepherd,
That lingers on the hill,
His ewes are in the fauld,
An' his lambs are lying still;
Yet he downa gang1o to bed,
For his heart is in a flame
To meet his bonnie lassie
When the kye comes hame.

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When the kye comes hame, etc.

When the little wee bit heart
Rises high in the breast,

An' the little wee bit starn11
Rises red in the east,
Oh there's a joy sae dear,
That the heart can hardly frame,
55 Wi' a bonnie, bonnie lassie,
When the kye comes hame!
When the kye comes hame, etc.

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50 The land of vision, it would seem, A still, an everlasting dream.

In yon green wood there is a waik,1
And in that waik there is a wene,2

And in that wene there is a maike;8 55 That neither has flesh, nor blood, nor bane;

And down in yon greenwood he walks his lane.*

In that green wene Kilmeny lay, Her bosom hap'd' wi' flowerets gay; But the air was soft, and the silence deep, 60 And bonny Kilmeny fell sound asleep. She kenned nae mair, nor open'd her ee, Till wak'd by the hymns of a far countrye.

She woke on a couch of silk sae slim, All striped wi' the bars of the rainbow's rim;

65 And lovely beings round were rife,

Who erst had travelled mortal life;
And aye they smiled and 'gan to speer,"
"What spirit has brought this mortal
here?"

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