BONNIE GEORGE CAMPBELL

(From Motherwell's Minstrelsy, 1827. Date of ballad uncertain)

HELEN OF KIRCONNELL

PART SECOND

(From Scott's Border Minstrelsy, 1802–3)

I wish I were where Helen lies!
Night and day on me she cries;
O that I were where Helen lies,
On fair Kirconnell Lee!

5 Curst be the heart that thought the thought,
And curst the hand that fired the shot,
When in my arms burd Helen dropt,
And died to succour me!

O think na ye my heart was sair,

10 When my love dropt down and spak nae mair! There did she swoon wi' mickle care

On fair Kirconnell Lee.

As I went down the water-side, None but my foe to be my guide, 15 None but my foe to be my guide, On fair Kirconnell Lee!

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I lighted down, my sword did draw,
I hacked him in pieces sma',

I hacked him in pieces sma',

For her sake that died for me.

O. Helen fair, beyond compare!
I'll make a garland of thy hair,
Shall bind my heart for evermair,
Until the day I die.

25 O that I were where Helen lies!
Night and day on me she cries;
Out of my bed she bids me rise,
Says, "Haste, and come to me!"

O Helen fair! O Helen chaste! 30 If I were with thee, I were blest, Where thou lies low, and takes thy rest, On fair Kirconnell Lee.

I wish my grave were growing green, A winding-sheet drawn ower my een 35 And I in Helen's arms lying,

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On fair Kirconnell Lee.

I wish I were where Helen lies!
Night and day on me she cries;
And I am weary of the skies,

For her sake that died for me.

PART SECOND

SPENSER TO DRYDEN.

EDMUND SPENSER

Cir. 1552-1599

THE FAERIE QUEENE

(From the First Book, which contains The Legend of the Knight of the Red Crosse, or of Holinesse, published with Bks. II. and III., 1590)

I.

Lo! I, the man whose Muse whylome did maske,
As time her taught, in lowly Shephards weeds,
Am now enforst, a farre unfitter taske,

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For trumpets sterne to chaunge mine oaten reeds, And sing of knights and ladies gentle deeds; Whose praises having slept in silence long, Me, all too meane, the sacred Muse areeds To blazon broade emongst her learned throng: Fierce warres and faithfull loves shall moralize my

song.

II.

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Helpe then, O holy virgin, chiefe of nyne,
Thy weaker novice to performe thy will;
Lay forth out of thine everlasting scryne
The antique rolles, which there lye hidden still,
Of Faerie knights, and fayrest Tanaquill,
Whom that most noble Briton Prince so long
Sought through the world, and suffered so much ill,
That I must rue his undeserved wrong:

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O, helpe thou my weake wit, and sharpen my dull tong!

III.

And thou, most dreaded impe of highest Jove,
Faire Venus sonne, that with thy cruell dart
At that good knight so cunningly didst rove,
That glorious fire it kindled in his hart;
Lay now thy deadly heben bowe apart,

And with thy mother mylde come to mine ayde;
Come, both; and with you bring triumphant Mart,
In loves and gentle jollities arraid,

After his murderous spoyles and bloudie rage allayd.

IV.

And with them eke, O Goddesse heavenly bright,
Mirrour of grace, and maiestie divine,

Great ladie of the greatest Isle, whose light

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Like Phoebus lampe throughout the world doth

shine,

Shed thy faire beames into my feeble eyne,
And raise my thoughtes, too humble and too vile,
To thinke of that true glorious type of thine,
The argument of mine afflicted stile:

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The which to heare vouchsafe, O dearest Dread, a

while.

CANTO I.

The patron of true Holinesse,
Foule Errour doth defeate;
Hypocrisie, him to entrappe,
Doth to his home entreate.

I.

A gentle Knight was pricking on the plaine,
Ycladd in mightie armes and silver shielde,
Wherein old dints of deepe woundes did remaine,
The cruell markes of many a bloody fielde;

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