The tall Knicht when he passed it by But on they rade, and better rade, O loud, loud nichered the bay steed "I'm wearie o' this eerie road," "It's no the sinkin' o' the sun That gloamins sae the ground, The heicht it is o' Sillarwood That shadows a' around." Methocht, Sir Knicht, broad Sillarwood A pleasant bield wud be, With nuts on ilka hazel bush, And birds on ilka tree But oh the dimness o' this wood Is terrible to me!" "The trees, ye see, seem wondrous big, The branches wondrous braid, Then marvel nae if sad suld be The path we hae to tread !" Thick grew the air, thick grew the trees, Thick hung the leaves around, And deeper did the Ettin's voice In the dread dimness sound"I think," said Maiden Marjorie, "I hear a horn and hound!" "Ye weel may hear the hound," he said, "Ye weel may hear the horn, For I can hear the wild halloo That freichts the face o' Morn! "The Hunters fell o' Sillarwood They hunt all day, they hunt all nicht, "The Hunters fell o' Sillarwood "And I the Laird o' Sillarwood "Ho! look beside yon bonny birkThe latest blink of day Is gleamin' on a comely heap Of freshly dug red clay; "Richt cunning hands they were that digged Forenent the birken tree Where every leaf that draps, frore maid, It's they can lie on lily breast "And they will hap thy lily breist Nor tell thy freres how Marjorie "The bed is strewed, Maid Marjorie, Wi' bracken and wi' brier, And ne'er will gray cock clarion wind Ye wedded have the Ettin stark- XCII. LIKE A WORN GRAY-HAIRED MARINER. LIKE a worn gray-haired mariner whom the sea Hath wrecked, then flung in mockery ashore, To clamber some gaunt cliff, and list the roar Of wave pursuing wave unceasingly; His native land, dear home, and toil-won store Inexorably severed from his sight; His sole companions Hopelessness and GriefWho feels his day will soon be mirkest night— Who from its close alone expects relief Praying life's sands, in pity, to descend And rid him of life's burden,-So do I Gaze on the world, and time fast surging by, Drifting away each hope with each tried friend Leaving behind a waste where desolate I may die. XCIII. CHOICE OF DEATH. MIGHT I, without offending, choose The death that I would die, Aneath a Syrian sky. Upon a glorious plain of war, Upon the solemn battle-eve, High o'er the thunders of the charge XCIV. FRIENDSHIP AND LOVE. OFT have I sighed for pleasure past, But far the heaviest drop of all Why did our bosoms ever beat My fear it was when other scenes, Should greet thee, thou would'st haply be In old frequented places. 'Tis even so-the thrall of love, Past ties to thee seem common- Old friend, adieu! I blame thee not, Since thou surrenderest all for her, While he who Friendship's dream hath known, XCV. THE LAY OF GEOFFROI RUDEL. WITH faltering step would I depart, From home and friend that claimed my heart— And the big tear would dim mine eye, Fixed on the scenes of early years, (Each spot some pleasure past endears) And I would mingle with a sigh The accents of the farewell lay— But for my love that's far way ! Friends and dear native land, adieu ! |