Sir Walter Scott.

1771-1832

556   Proud Maisie

PROUD Maisie is in the wood,
   Walking so early;
Sweet Robin sits on the bush,
  Singing so rarely.

‘Tell me, thou bonny bird,
   When shall I marry me?’
—‘When six braw gentlemen
  Kirkward shall carry ye.’

‘Who makes the bridal bed,
   Birdie, say truly?’
—‘The grey-headed sexton
  That delves the grave duly.

‘The glow-worm o’er grave and stone
   Shall light thee steady;
The owl from the steeple sing
  Welcome, proud lady!’

557   Brignall Banks

O BRIGNALL banks are wild and fair,
    And Greta woods are green,
And you may gather garlands there,
    Would grace a summer queen:
And as I rode by Dalton Hall,
    Beneath the turrets high,
A Maiden on the castle wall
    Was singing merrily:—

‘O, Brignall banks are fresh and fair,
   And Greta woods are green!
I’d rather rove with Edmund there
   Than reign our English Queen.’

‘If, Maiden, thou wouldst wend with me
   To leave both tower and town,
Thou first must guess what life lead we,
   That dwell by dale and down:
And if thou canst that riddle read,
   As read full well you may,
Then to the green-wood shalt thou speed
   As blithe as Queen of May.’

Yet sung she, ‘Brignall banks are fair,
   And Greta woods are green!
I’d rather rove with Edmund there
   Than reign our English Queen.

‘I read you by your bugle horn
   And by your palfrey good,
I read you for a Ranger sworn
   To keep the King’s green-wood.’
‘A Ranger, Lady, winds his horn,
   And ’tis at peep of light;
His blast is heard at merry morn,
   And mine at dead of night.’

Yet sung she, ‘Brignall banks are fair,
   And Greta woods are gay!
I would I were with Edmund there,
   To reign his Queen of May!
‘With burnish’d brand and musketoon
   So gallantly you come,
I read you for a bold Dragoon,
   That lists the tuck of drum.’
‘I list no more the tuck of drum,
   No more the trumpet hear;
But when the beetle sounds his hum,
   My comrades take the spear.

‘And O! though Brignall banks be fair,
   And Greta woods be gay,
Yet mickle must the maiden dare,
   Would reign my Queen of May!

‘Maiden! a nameless life I lead,
    A nameless death I’ll die;
The fiend whose lantern lights the mead
   Were better mate than I!
And when I’m with my comrades met
   Beneath the green-wood bough,
What once we were we all forget,
   Nor think what we are now.’

558   Lucy Ashton’s Song

LOOK not thou on beauty’s charming;
Sit thou still when kings are arming;
Taste not when the wine-cup glistens;
Speak not when the people listens;
Stop thine ear against the singer;
From the red gold keep thy finger;
Vacant heart and hand and eye,
Easy live and quiet die.