66 Weep not, weep not, my bonny, bonny bride, Weep not, weep not, my winsome marrow; Nor let thy heart lament to leive Puing the birks on the Braes of Yarrow." B. "Why does she weep, thy bonny, bonny bride ? And why dare ye nae mair weil be seen A. " Lang maun she weep, lang maun she, maun she weep, And lang maun I nae mair weil be seen Puing the birks on the Braes of Yarrow? "For she has tint her luver, luver dear, Her luver dear, the cause of sorrow; And I hae slain the comliest swain 10 15 20 That eir pu'd birks on the Braes of Yarrow. "Why rins thy stream, O Yarrow, Yarrow, reid? 25 Why on thy braes heard the voice of sorrow? And why yon melancholious weids Hung on the bonny birks of Yarrow? "What's yonder floats on the rueful, rueful flude? 30 O'tis he, the comely swain I slew Upon the duleful Braes of Yarrow. 66 Wash, O wash his wounds, his wounds in tears, And wrap his limbs in mourning weids, 35 And lay him on the Braes of Yarrow. "Then build, then build, ye sisters, sisters sad, Ye sisters sad, his tomb with sorrow; And weep around in waeful wise 66 His hapless fate on the Braes of Yarrow. Curse ye, curse ye, his useless, useless shield, My arm that wrought the deed of sorrow, The fatal spear that pierc'd his breast, His comely breast on the Braes of Yarrow. 40 72 “Did I not warn thee not to, not to luve? And warn from fight? but to my sorrow Too rashly bauld a stronger arm Thou mett'st, and fell'st on the Braes of Yarrow. "Sweet smells the birk; green grows, green grows the grass; Yellow on Yarrow's bank the gowan; Fair hangs the apple frae the rock; Sweet the wave of Yarrow flowan. "Flows Yarrow sweet? as sweet, as sweet flows Tweed, As green its grass, its gowan as yellow, As sweet smells on its braes the birk, “Fair was thy luve, fair, fair indeed thy luve, "Busk ye, then busk, my bonny, bonny bride, C. "How can I busk a bonny, bonny bride? How can I busk a winsome marrow? How luve him upon the banks of Tweed That slew my luve on the Braes of Yarrow? "O Yarrow fields, may never, never rain Nor dew thy tender blossoms cover, For there was basely slain my luve, 45 50 55 60 65 710 My luve, as he had not been a lover. "The boy put on his robes, his robes of green, His purple vest, 'twas my awn sewing: Ah! wretched me! I little, little kenn'd 75 "The boy took out his milk-white, milk-white steed, Unheedful of my dule and sorrow; But ere the toofall of the night He lay a corps on the Braes of Yarrow. 80 "Much I rejoyc'd that waeful, waeful day; I sang, my voice the woods returning: But lang ere night the spear was flown That slew my luve, and left me mourning. "What can my barbarous, barbarous father do But with his cruel rage pursue me? 85 My lover's blood is on thy spear, How canst thou, barbarous man, then wooe me? "My happy sisters may be, may be proud May bid me seek on Yarrow's Braes With cruel and ungentle scoffin', My lover nailed in his coffin. 90 "My brother Douglas may upbraid, upbraid, And strive with threatning words to muve me; My luver's blood is on thy spear, 95 How canst thou ever bid me luve thee? "Yes, yes, prepare the bed, the bed of luve, With bridal sheets my body cover, Unbar, ye bridal maids, the door, Let in the expected husband-lover. "But who the expected husband, husband is! His hands, methinks, are bath'd in slaughter: 100 Ah me! what ghastly spectre's yon Comes, in his pale shroud, bleeding after? "Pale as he is here lay him, lay him down, O lay his cold head on my pillow; 105 Take aff, take aff these bridal weids, And crown my careful head with willow. "Pale tho' thou art, yet best, yet best beluv'd, warmth to life restore thee! my No youth lay ever there before thee. 66 Pale, pale indeed, O luvely, luvely youth! And lye all night between my breists; 110 115 A. "Return, return, O mournful, mournful bride, Thy luver heeds none of thy sighs: He lyes a corps in the Braes of Yarrow." 120 XXV. Admiral Hosier's Ghost 1 was a party song written by the ingenious author of Leonidas, on the taking of Porto Bello from the Spaniards by Admiral Vernon, Nov. 22, 1739. The case of Hosier, which is here so pathetically represented, was briefly this. In April, 1726, that commander was sent with a strong fleet into the Spanish West Indies, to block up the galleons in the ports of that country; or, should they presume to come out, to seize and carry them into England: he accordingly arrived at the Bastimentos, near Porto Bello, but being employed rather to overawe than to attack the Spaniards, with whom it was probably not our interest to go to war he continued long inactive on that station, to his own great regret. He afterwards removed to Carthagena, and remained cruising in these seas till far the greater part of his men perished deplorably by the diseases of that unhealthy climate. This brave man, seeing his best officers and men thus daily swept away, his ships exposed to inevitable destruction, and himself made the sport of the enemy, is said to have died of a broken heart. Such is the account of Smollett, compared with that of other less partial writers. The following song is commonly accompanied with a Second Part, or Answer, which being of inferior merit, and apparently written by another hand, hath been rejected. As near Porto-Bello lying On the gently swelling flood, At midnight with streamers flying 5 1 An ingenious correspondent informs the Editor, that this ballad hath also been attributed to the late Lord Bath. On a sudden shrilly sounding, Hideous yells and shrieks were heard ; A sad troop of ghosts appear'd, On them gleam'd the moon's wan lustre, You will mix your joy with tears. "See these mournful spectres sweeping Ghastly o'er this hated wave, Whose wan cheeks are stain'd with weeping: 35 These were English captains brave. Mark those numbers pale and horrid : 40 Lo, each hangs his drooping forehead "I, by twenty sail attended, Did this Spanish town affright; Nothing then its wealth defended But my orders not to fight. 2 Admiral Vernon's ship. |