Poems and Ballads and Atalanta in Calydon
Page 28
In the June-days.
To her all dews that fall
And rains are musical;
Her flowers are fed from all,
Her joy from these;
In the deep-feathered firs
Their gift of joy is hers,
In the least breath that stirs
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Across the trees.
She grows with greenest leaves,
Ripens with reddest sheaves,
Forgets, remembers, grieves,
And is not sad;
The quiet lands and skies
Leave light upon her eyes;
None knows her, weak or wise,
Or tired or glad.
None knows, none understands,
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What flowers are like her hands;
Though you should search all lands
Wherein time grows,
What snows are like her feet,
Though his eyes burn with heat
Through gazing on my sweet,
Yet no man knows.
Only this thing is said;
That white and gold and red,
God’s three chief words, man’s bread
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And oil and wine,
Were given her for dowers,
And kingdom of all hours,
And grace of goodly flowers
And various vine.
This is my lady’s praise:
God after many days
Wrought her in unknown ways,
In sunset lands;
This was my lady’s birth;
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God gave her might and mirth
And laid his whole sweet earth
Between her hands.
Under deep apple-boughs
My lady hath her house;
She wears upon her brows
The flower thereof;
All saying but what God saith
To her is as vain breath;
She is more strong than death,
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Being strong as love.
The King’s Daughter
We were ten maidens in the green corn,
Small red leaves in the mill-water:
Fairer maidens never were born,
Apples of gold for the king’s daughter.
We were ten maidens by a well-head,
Small white birds in the mill-water:
Sweeter maidens never were wed,
Rings of red for the king’s daughter.
The first to spin, the second to sing,
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Seeds of wheat in the mill-water;
The third may was a goodly thing,
White bread and brown for the king’s daughter.
The fourth to sew and the fifth to play,
Fair green weed in the mill-water;
The sixth may was a goodly may,
White wine and red for the king’s daughter.
The seventh to woo, the eighth to wed,
Fair thin reeds in the mill-water;
The ninth had gold work on her head,
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Honey in the comb for the king’s daughter.
The ninth had gold work round her hair,
Fallen flowers in the mill-water;
The tenth may was goodly and fair,
Golden gloves for the king’s daughter.
We were ten maidens in a field green,
Fallen fruit in the mill-water;
Fairer maidens never have been,
Golden sleeves for the king’s daughter.
By there comes the king’s young son,
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A little wind in the mill-water;
‘Out of ten maidens ye’ll grant me one,’
A crown of red for the king’s daughter.
‘Out of ten mays ye’ll give me the best,’
A little rain in the mill-water;
A bed of yellow straw for all the rest,
A bed of gold for the king’s daughter.
He’s ta’en out the goodliest,
Rain that rains in the mill-water;
A comb of yellow shell for all the rest,
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A comb of gold for the king’s daughter.
He’s made her bed to the goodliest,
Wind and hail in the mill-water;
A grass girdle for all the rest,
A girdle of arms for the king’s daughter.
He’s set his heart to the goodliest,
Snow that snows in the mill-water;
Nine little kisses for all the rest,
An hundredfold for the king’s daughter.
He’s ta’en his leave at the goodliest,
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Broken boats in the mill-water;
Golden gifts for all the rest,
Sorrow of heart for the king’s daughter.
‘Ye’ll make a grave for my fair body,’
Running rain in the mill-water;
‘And ye’ll streek my brother at the side of me,’
The pains of hell for the king’s daughter.
After Death
The four boards of the coffin lid
Heard all the dead man did.
The first curse was in his mouth,
Made of grave’s mould and deadly drouth.
The next curse was in his head,
Made of God’s work discomfited.
The next curse was in his hand,
Made out of two grave-bands.
The next curse was in his feet,
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Made out of a grave-sheet.
‘I had fair coins red and white,
And my name was as great light;
I had fair clothes green and red,
And strong gold bound round my head.
But no meat comes in my mouth,
Now I fare as the worm doth;
And no gold binds in my hair,
Now I fare as the blind fare.
My live thews were of great strength,
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Now am I waxen a span’s length;
My live sides were full of lust,
Now are they dried with dust.’
The first board spake and said:
‘Is it best eating flesh or bread?’
The second answered it:
‘Is wine or honey the more sweet?’
The third board spake and said:
‘Is red gold worth a girl’s gold head?’
The fourth made answer thus:
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‘All these things are as one with us.’
The dead man asked of them:
‘Is the green land stained brown with flame?
Have they hewn my son for beasts to eat,
And my wife’s body for beasts’ meat?
Have they boiled my maid in a brass pan,
And built a gallows to hang my man?’
The boards said to him:
‘This is a lewd thing that ye deem.
Your wife has gotten a golden bed,
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All the sheets are sewn with red.
Your son has gotten a coat of silk,
The sleeves are soft as curded milk.
Your maid has gotten a kirtle new,
All the skirt has braids of blue.
Your man has gotten both ring and glove,
Wrought well for eyes to love.’
The dead man answered thus:
‘What good gift shall God give us?’
The boards answered him anon:
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‘Flesh to feed hell’s worm upon.’
May Janet
(BRETON)
‘Stand up, stand up, thou May Janet,
And go to the wars with me.’
He’s drawn her by both hands
With her face against the sea.
‘He that strews red shall gather white,
He that sows white reap red,
Before your face and my daughter’s
Meet in a marriage-bed.
‘Gold
coin shall grow in the yellow field,
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Green coin in the green sea-water,
And red fruit grow of the rose’s red,
Ere your fruit grow in her.’
‘But I shall have her by land,’ he said,
‘Or I shall have her by sea,
Or I shall have her by strong treason
And no grace go with me.’
Her father’s drawn her by both hands,
He’s rent her gown from her,
He’s ta’en the smock round her body,
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Cast in the sea-water.
The captain’s drawn her by both sides
Out of the fair green sea;
‘Stand up, stand up, thou May Janet,
And come to the war with me.’
The first town they came to
There was a blue bride-chamber;
He clothed her on with silk
And belted her with amber.
The second town they came to
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The bridesmen feasted knee to knee;
He clothed her on with silver,
A stately thing to see.
The third town they came to
The bridesmaids all had gowns of gold;
He clothed her on with purple,
A rich thing to behold.
The last town they came to
He clothed her white and red,
With a green flag either side of her
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And a gold flag overhead.
The Bloody Son
(FINNISH)
‘O where have ye been the morn sae late,
My merry son, come tell me hither?
O where have ye been the morn sae late?
And I wot I hae not anither.’
‘By the water-gate, by the water-gate,
O dear mither.’
‘And whatten kin’ o’ wark had ye there to make,
My merry son, come tell me hither?
And whatten kin’ o’ wark had ye there to make?
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And I wot I hae not anither.’
‘I watered my steeds with water frae the lake,
O dear mither.’
‘Why is your coat sae fouled the day,
My merry son, come tell me hither?
Why is your coat sae fouled the day?
And I wot I hae not anither.’
‘The steeds were stamping sair by the weary banks of clay,
O dear mither.’
‘And where gat ye thae sleeves of red,
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My merry son, come tell me hither?
And where gat ye thae sleeves of red?
And I wot I hae not anither.’
‘I have slain my ae brither by the weary water-head,
O dear mither.’
‘And where will ye gang to mak your mend,
My merry son, come tell me hither?
And where will ye gang to mak your mend?
And I wot I hae not anither.’
‘The warldis way, to the warldis end,
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O dear mither.’
‘And what will ye leave your father dear,
My merry son, come tell me hither?
And what will ye leave your father dear?
And I wot I hae not anither.’
‘The wood to fell and the logs to bear,
For he’ll never see my body mair,
O dear mither.’
‘And what will ye leave your mither dear,
My merry son, come tell me hither?
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And what will ye leave your mither dear?
And I wot I hae not anither.’
‘The wool to card and the wool to wear,
For ye’ll never see my body mair,
O dear mither.’
‘And what will ye leave for your wife to take,
My merry son, come tell me hither?
And what will ye leave for your wife to take?
And I wot I hae not anither.’
‘A goodly gown and a fair new make,
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For she’ll do nae mair for my body’s sake,
O dear mither.’
‘And what will ye leave your young son fair,
My merry son, come tell me hither?
And what will ye leave your young son fair?
And I wot ye hae not anither.’
‘A twiggen school-rod for his body to bear,
Though it garred him greet he’ll get nae mair,
O dear mither.’
‘And what will ye leave your little daughter sweet,
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My merry son, come tell me hither?
And what will ye leave your little daughter sweet?
And I wot ye hae not anither.’
‘Wild mulberries for her mouth to eat,
She’ll get nae mair though it garred her greet,
O dear mither.’
‘And when will ye come back frae roamin’,
My merry son, come tell me hither?
And when will ye come back frae roamin’?
And I wot I hae not anither.’
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‘When the sunrise out of the north is comen,
O dear mither.’
‘When shall the sunrise on the north side be,
My merry son, come tell me hither?
When shall the sunrise on the north side be?
And I wot I hae not anither.’
‘When chuckie-stanes shall swim in the sea,
O dear mither.’
‘When shall stanes in the sea swim,
My merry son, come tell me hither?
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When shall stanes in the sea swim?
And I wot I hae not anither.’
‘When birdies’ feathers are as lead therein,
O dear mither.’
‘When shall feathers be as lead,
My merry son, come tell me hither?
When shall feathers be as lead?
And I wot I hae not anither.’
‘When God shall judge between the quick and dead,
O dear mither.’
The Sea-Swallows
This fell when Christmas lights were done,
(Red rose leaves will never make wine)
But before the Easter lights begun;
The ways are sair fra’ the Till to the Tyne.
Two lovers sat where the rowan blows
And all the grass is heavy and fine,
By the gathering-place of the sea-swallows
When the wind brings them over Tyne.
Blossom of broom will never make bread,