图书图片
PDF
ePub

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.

85

He had a rose into his hand,

He gae it kisses three,
And reaching by the nut-browne bride,

Laid it on fair Annets knee.

[merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors]

Lord Thomas he saw fair Annet wex pale,

And marvelit what mote bee :
But whan he saw her dear hearts blude,

A’ wood-wroth wexed hee.

2

He

105

He drew his dagger, that was fae sharp,

That was fae sharp and meet,
And drave it into the nut-browne bride,

That fell deid at his feit.

110

Now ftay for me, dear Annet, he sed,

Now ftay, my dear, he cry'd;
Than strake the dagger untill his heart,

And fell deid by her side.

Lord Thomas was buried without kirk-wa',

Fair Annet within the quiere ;
And o' the tane thair grew a birk,

The other a bonny briere.

[ocr errors]

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

VI.

CORY DON's DOLEFUL KNEL L.

This little fimple elegy is given, with some correctionis from two copies

, one of which is in The golden garland of frincely delights."

The burt hen of the song, DING DONG, &c. is at present appropriated to burlesque subjects, and therefore may excite only ludicrous ideas in a modern reader ; but in the time of our poet it usually accompanied the most folemn and mournful frains. Of this kind is that fine aerial Dirge in Shakespear's Tempest,

Full fadom five thy father lies,

Of his bones are corrall made ;
Those are pearles that cuere his eyes';

Nothing of him, that doth fade,
But doth fuffer a fea-change
Into something rich and strange :

Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell,
Harke now I heare them, Ding dong bell."

[“ Burt herr, Ding dong.”]

[ocr errors]

I make no doubt but the poet intended to conclude this air in a manner the most folemn and expresive of melancholy.

[ocr errors]

Y Phillida, adieu love!

For evermore farewel !
Ay me! I've lost my true love,
And thus I ring her knell,

Ding dong, ding dong, ding dong,

My Phillida is dead !
l'll stick a branch of willow

At my fair Phillis' head,

5

For

[merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small]
[blocks in formation]

In fable will I mourne ;

Blacke shall be all my weede,
Ay me! I am forlorne,
Now Phillida is dead.

Ding dong, ding dong, ding dong,

My Phillida is dead !
I'll stick a branch of willow

Ai my fair Phillis' head,

45

VII. K.

« 上一页继续 »