"Ye'll sit on his white hause-bane,[84]
And I'll pick out his bonny blue een;
Wi' ae[85] lock o' his gowden hair,
We'll theck[86] our nest when it grows bare.
"Mony a one for him makes mane,
But nane sail ken where he is gane;
O'er his white banes, when they are bare,
The wind sail blow for evermair."
BONNIE GEORGE CAMPBELL.
Hie upon Highlands and low upon Tay,
Bonnie George Campbell rade out on a day.
Saddled and bridled and gallant rade he;
Hame cam' his horse, but never cam' he.
Out came his auld mother, greeting[87] fu' sair;
And out cam' his bonnie bride, riving her hair.
Saddled and bridled and booted rade he;
Toom[88] hame cam' the saddle, but never cam' he.
"My meadow lies green and my corn is unshorn;
My barn is to bigg[89] and my babie's unborn."
Saddled and bridled and booted rade he;
Toom cam' the saddle, but never cam' he.
[Footnote 82: The two ravens.]
[Footnote 83: Turf.]
[Footnote 84: Neck-bone.]
[Footnote 85: One.]
[Footnote 86: Thach.]
[Footnote 87: Weeping.]
[Footnote 88: Empty.]
[Footnote 89: Build.]
EDMUND SPENSER.
THE SUITOR'S LIFE.
Full little knowest thou that hast not tride,
What hell it is in suing long to bide;
To lose good days that might be better spent;
To wast long nights in pensive discontent:
To speed to-day, to be put back to-morrow;
To feed on hope, to pine with feare and sorrow;
To have thy prince's grace, yet want her peere's[90]:
To have thy asking, yet waite manie yeers,
To fret thy soule with crosses and with cares;
To eate thy heart through comfortlesse dispaires:
To fawne, to crowche, to waite, to ride, to ronne,
To spend, to give, to want, to be undone!
THE MUSIC OF THE BOWER OF BLISS.
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