The Home Book of Verse Volume Ii Part 110

Walter Scott [1771-1832]

"LOUDOUN'S BONNIE WOODS AND BRAES"

"Loudoun's bonnie woods and braes, I maun lea' them a', la.s.sie; Wha can thole when Britain's faes Wad gi'e Britons law, la.s.sie?

Wha wad shun the field o' danger?

Wha frae fame wad live a stranger?

Now when freedom bids avenge her, Wha wad shun her ca', la.s.sie?

Loudoun's bonnie woods and braes Hae seen our happy bridal days, And gentle Hope shall soothe thy waes When I am far awa', la.s.sie."

"Hark! the swelling bugle sings, Yielding joy to thee, laddie, But the dolefu' bugle brings Waefu' thoughts to me, laddie.

Lanely I maun climb the mountain, Lanely stray beside the fountain, Still the weary moments countin', Far frae love and thee, laddie.

O'er the gory fields of war, When Vengeance drives his crimson car, Thou'lt maybe fa', frae me afar, And nane to close thy e'e, laddie."

"O! resume thy wonted smile!

O! suppress thy fears, la.s.sie!

Glorious honor crowns the toil That the soldier shares, la.s.sie; Heaven will s.h.i.+eld thy faithful lover Till the vengeful strife is over; Then we'll meet nae mair to sever; Till the day we dee, la.s.sie.

'Midst our bonnie woods and braes We'll spend our peaceful, happy days, As blithe's yon lightsome lamb that plays On Loudoun's flowery lea, la.s.sie."

Robert Tannahill [1774-1810]

"FARE THEE WELL"

Fare thee well and if for ever, Still for ever, fare thee well: Even though unforgiving, never 'Gainst thee shall my heart rebel.

Would that breast were bared before thee Where thy head so oft hath lain, While that placid sleep came o'er thee Which thou ne'er canst know again:

Would that breast, by thee glanced over, Every inmost thought could show!

Then thou wouldst at last discover 'Twas not well to spurn it so.

Though the world for this commend thee,-- Though it smile upon the blow, Even its praises must offend thee, Founded on another's woe:

Though my many faults defaced me, Could no other arm be found Than the one which once embraced me, To inflict a cureless wound?

Yet, oh yet, thyself deceive not; Love may sink by slow decay, But by sudden wrench, believe not Hearts can thus be torn away:

Still thine own its life retaineth;-- Still must mine, though bleeding, beat; And the undying thought which paineth Is--that we no more may meet.

These are words of deeper sorrow Than the wail above the dead; Both shall live, but every morrow Wake us from a widowed bed.

And when thou wouldst solace gather, When our child's first accents flow, Wilt thou teach her to say "Father!"

Though his care she must forego?

When her little hands shall press thee, When her lip to thine is pressed, Think of him whose prayer shall bless thee, Think of him thy love had blessed!

Should her lineaments resemble Those thou nevermore may'st see, Then thy heart will softly tremble With a pulse yet true to me.

All my faults perchance thou knowest, All my madness none can know; All my hopes, where'er thou goest, Whither, yet with thee they go.

Every feeling hath been shaken; Pride, which not a world could bow, Bows to thee,--by thee forsaken, Even my soul forsakes me now:

But 'tis done,--all words are idle,-- Words from me are vainer still; But the thoughts we cannot bridle Force their way without the will.

Fare thee well!--thus disunited, Torn from every nearer tie, Seared in heart, and lone, and blighted, More than this I scarce can die.

George Gordon Byron [1788-1824]

"MAID OF ATHENS, ERE WE PART"

Maid of Athens, ere we part, Give, oh, give me back my heart!

Or, since that has left my breast, Keep it now, and take the rest!

Hear my vow before I go, Zoe mou, sas agapo. (My life, I love you.)

By those tresses unconfined, Wooed by each Aegean wind; By those lids whose jetty fringe Kiss thy soft cheeks' blooming tinge; By those wild eyes like the roe, Zoe mou, sas agapo. (My life, I love you.)

By that lip I long to taste; By that zone-encircled waist; By all the token-flowers that tell What words can never speak so well; By love's alternate joy and woe, Zoe mou, sas agapo. (My life, I love you.)

Maid of Athens! I am gone: Think of me, sweet! when alone.

Though I fly to Istambol, Athens holds my heart and soul: Can I cease to love thee? No!

Zoe mou, sas agapo. (My life, I love you.)

George Gordon Byron [1788-1824]

"WHEN WE TWO PARTED"

When we two parted In silence and tears, Half broken-hearted, To sever for years, Pale grew thy cheek and cold, Colder thy kiss; Truly that hour foretold Sorrow to this!

The dew of the morning Sunk chill on my brow; It felt like the warning Of what I feel now.

Thy vows are all broken, And light is thy fame: I hear thy name spoken And share in its shame.

They name thee before me, A knell to mine ear; A shudder comes o'er me-- Why wert thou so dear?

They know not I knew thee Who knew thee too well: Long, long shall I rue thee Too deeply to tell.

In secret we met: In silence I grieve That thy heart could forget, Thy spirit deceive.

If I should meet thee After long years, How should I greet thee?-- With silence and tears.

George Gordon Byron [1788-1824]