Lady Anne Bothwell's Lament 1019

Ask blessing, babe, be not afraid,
His sugared words hath me betrayed.

Then may'st thou joy and be right glad;
Although in woe I seem to moan,
Thy father is no rascal lad,

A noble youth of blood and bone:
His glancing looks, if he once smile,
Right honest women may beguile.

Come, little boy, and rock asleep;
Sing lullaby and be thou still;
I, that can do naught else but weep,
Will sit by thee and wail my fill:
God bless my babe, and lullaby
From this thy father's quality.

Nicholas Breton [1545?-1626?]

LADY ANNE BOTHWELL'S LAMENT
BALOW, my babe, lie still and sleep!
It grieves me sore to see thee weep.
Wouldst thou be quiet I'se be glad,
Thy mourning makes my sorrow sad:
Balow my boy, thy mother's joy,
Thy father breeds me great annoy—
Balow, la-low!

When he began to court my love,
And with his sugared words me move,
His feignings false and flattering cheer
To me that time did not appear:
But now I see most cruelly

He cares ne for my babe nor me—
Balow, la-low!

Lie still, my darling, sleep awhile,

And when thou wak'st thou'll sweetly smile:

But smile not as thy father did,

To cozen maids: nay, God forbid!

But yet I fear thou wilt go near
Thy father's heart and face to bear-
Balow, la-low!

I cannot choose but ever will
Be loving to thy father still;
Where'er he go, where'er he ride,
My love with him doth still abide;
In weal or woe, where'er he go,
My heart shall ne'er depart him fro—
Balow, la-low!

But do not, do not, pretty mine,
To feignings false thy heart incline!
Be loyal to thy lover true,

And never change her for a new:
If good or fair, of her have care
For women's banning's wondrous sair-
Balow, la-low!

Bairn, by thy face I will beware;
Like Sirens' words, I'll come not near;
My babe and I together will live;
He'll comfort me when cares do grieve.
My babe and I right soft will lie,
And ne'er respect man's cruelty-
Balow, la-low!

Farewell, farewell, the falsest youth
That ever kissed a woman's mouth!
I wish all maids be warned by me
Never to trust man's courtesy;
For if we do but chance to bow,
They'll use us then they care not how-
Balow, la-low!

A WOMAN'S LOVE

Unknown

A SENTINEL angel, sitting high in glory,
Heard this shrill wail ring out from Purgatory:
"Have mercy, mighty angel, hear my story!

"I loved, and, blind with passionate love, I fell. Love brought me down to death, and death to Hell; For God is just, and death for sin is well.

"I do not rage against His high decree,
Nor for myself do ask that grace shall be;
But for my love on earth who mourns for me.

"Great Spirit! Let me see my love again And comfort him one hour, and I were fain To pay a thousand years of fire and pain."

Then said the pitying angel, "Nay, repent
That wild vow! Look, the dial-finger's bent
Down to the last hour of thy punishment!"

But still she wailed, "I pray thee, let me go!
I cannot rise to peace and leave him so.
O, let me soothe him in his bitter woe!"

The brazen gates ground sullenly ajar,
And upwards, joyous, like a rising star,
She rose and vanished in the ether far.

But soon adown the dying sunset sailing,
And like a wounded bird her pinions trailing,
She fluttered back, with broken-hearted wailing,

She sobbed, "I found him by the summer sca
Reclined, his head upon a maiden's knee,-
She curled his hair and kissed him. Woe is me!"

She wept, "Now let my punishment begin!

I have been fond and foolish.

Let me in

To expiate my sorrow and my sin."

The angel answered, "Nay, sad soul, go higher!
To be deceived in your true heart's desire
Was bitterer than a thousand years of fire!"

John Ilay [1838-1905]

A TRAGEDY

SHE was only a woman, famished for loving,
Mad with devotion, and such slight things;
And he was a very great musician,

And used to finger his fiddle-strings.

Her heart's sweet gamut is cracking and breaking For a look, for a touch,-for such slight things; But he's such a very great musician

Grimacing and fingering his fiddle-strings.

Théophile Marzials [1850–

"MOTHER, I CANNOT MIND MY WHEEL”

MOTHER, I cannot mind my wheel;
My fingers ache, my lips are dry:

O, if you felt the pain I feel!
But O, who ever felt as I?

No longer could I doubt him true-
All other men may use deceit;
He always said my eyes were blue,
And often swore my lips were sweet.
Walter Savage Landor [1775-1864]

AIRLY BEACON

AIRLY Beacon, Airly Beacon;

O the pleasant sight to see
Shires and towns from Airly Beacon,
While my love climbed up to me!

Airly Beacon, Airly Beacon;

O the happy hours we lay
Deep in fern on Airly Beacon,
Courting through the summer's day!

Airly Beacon, Airly Beacon;
O the weary haunt for me,
All alone on Airly Beacon,
With his baby on my knee!

Charles Kingsley [1819-1875]

From the Harbor Hill

1023

A SEA CHILD

THE lover of child Marjory

Had one white hour of life brim full;

Now the old nurse, the rocking sea,

Hath him to lull.

The daughter of child Marjory

Hath in her veins, to beat and run,

The glad indomitable sea,

The strong white sun.

Bliss Carman [1861

FROM THE HARBOR HILL

"Is it a sail?" she asked.

"No," I said.

"Only a white sea-gull with its pinions spread."

"Is it a spar?" she asked.
"No," said I.

"Only the slender light-house tower against the sky."

"Flutters a pennant there?"

"No," I said.

"Only a shred of cloud in the sunset red."

"Surely a hull, a hull!"

"Where?" I cried.

"Only a rock half-bared by the ebbing tide."

"Wait you a ship?" I asked.

"Aye!" quoth she.

"The Harbor Belle; her mate comes home to marry me.

"Surely the good ship hath

Met no harm?"

Was it the west wind wailed or the babe on her arm?

"The Harbor Belle !" she urged.

Naught said I.

For I knew o'er the grave o' the Harbor Belle the sea-gulls fly.

Gustav Kobbé [1857