THE ROSE AND THE GAUNTLET. Ay, press your hand upon my heart, And press it mair and mair, Or it will burst the silken twine, Sae strang is its despair. Oh, wae's me for the hour, Willie, Oh, wae's me for the time, Willie, That gart me luve thee sae! Oh, dinna mind my words, Willie- But oh, it's hard to live, Willie, And dree a warld's shame! Het tears are hailin' ower your cheek, I'm weary o' this warld, Willie, I canna live as I ha'e lived, Or be as I should be. But fauld unto your heart, Willie, The heart that still is thine, And kiss ance mair the white, white cheek Ye said was red langsyne. A stoun' gaes through my heid, Willie - Anither, and anither yet! How fast my life-strings break! Fareweel! fareweel! through yon kirk-yard Step lichtly for my sake! The lav'rock in the lift, Willie, Abune the clay-cauld deid; But oh, remember me, Willie, be! On land where'er ye And oh, think on the leal, leal heart, And oh, think on the cauld, cauld mools That kiss the cheek, and kiss the chin, Ye never sall kiss mair! 313 WILLIAM MOTHERWELL. The Rose and the Gauntlet. Low spake the knight to the peasant-girl: "Thou shalt have pomp, and wealth, and pleasure, Joys beyond thy fancy's measure; Here with my sword and horse I stand, To bear thee away to my distant land. "Take, thou fairest! this full-blown rose, The maiden exclaimed, "Thou seest, sir knight, And, like the rose thou hast torn and scattered, She trembled and blushed, and her glances fell; But she turned from the knight, and said, “Farewell!" "Not so," he cried, "will I lose my prize; I heed not thy words, but I read thine eyes." He lifted her up in his grasp of steel, And he mounted and spurred with furious heel; But her cry drew forth her hoary sire, Who snatched his bow from above the fire. Swift from the valley the warrior fled, And the weight that pressed on the fleet-foot horse Was the living man, and the woman's corse. |