Muckle-Mouth Meg

781

MUCKLE

MUCKLE-MOUTH MEG

FROWNED the Laird on the Lord: "So, red-handed I catch thee?

Death-doomed by our Law of the Border!

We've a gallows outside and a chiel to dispatch thee:
Who trespasses-hangs: all's in order."

He met frown with smile, did the young English gallant:
Then the Laird's dame: "Nay, Husband, I beg!

He's comely: be merciful! Grace for the callant
-If he marries our Muckle-mouth Meg!"

"No mile-wide-mouthed monster of yours do I marry:
Grant rather the gallows!" laughed he.

"Foul fare kith and kin of you-why do you tarry?"
"To tame your fierce temper!" quoth she.

"Shove him quick in the Hole, shut him fast for a week:
Cold, darkness, and hunger work wonders:
Who lion-like roars, now mouse-fashion will squeak,
And 'it rains' soon succeed to 'it thunders.""

A week did he bide in the cold and dark
--Not hunger: for duly at morning
In flitted a lass, and a voice like a lark

Chirped, "Muckle-mouth Meg still ye're scorning?
"Go hang, but here's parritch to hearten ye first!"
"Did Meg's muckle-mouth boast within some
Such music as yours, mine should match it or burst:
No frog-jaws! So tell folk, my Winsome!"

Soon week came to end, and, from Hole's door set wide,
Out he marched, and there waited the lassie:
"Yon gallows, or Muckle-mouth Meg for a bride!
Consider! Sky's blue and turf's grassy:

"Life's sweet; shall I say ye wed Muckle-mouth Meg?"
"Not I," quoth the stout heart: "too eerie

The mouth that can swallow a bubblyjock's egg:
Shall I let it munch mine? Never, Dearie!"

"Not Muckle-mouth Meg? Wow, the obstinate man! Perhaps he would rather wed me!"

"Ay, would he-with just for a dowry your can!" "I'm Muckle-mouth Meg," chirruped she.

"Then so-so-so-so-" as he kissed her apace

"Will I widen thee out till thou turnest

From Margaret Minnikin-mou', by God's grace,
To Muckle-mouth Meg in good earnest!"

Robert Browning [1812-1889]

MUCKLE-MOU'D MEG

"OH, what hae ye brought us hame now, my brave lord, Strappit flaught owre his braid saddle-bow?

Some bauld Border reiver to feast at our board,

An' harry our pantry, I trow.

He's buirdly an' stalwart in lith an' in limb;

Gin ye were his master in war

The field was a saft eneugh litter for him,

Ye needna hae brought him sae far.

Then saddle an' munt again, harness an' dunt again,
An' when ye gae hunt again, strike higher game."

"Hoot, whisht ye, my dame, for he comes o' gude kin, An' boasts o' a lang pedigree;

This night he maun share o' our gude cheer within,
At morning's gray dawn he maun dee.

He's gallant Wat Scott, heir o' proud Harden Ha',
Wha ettled our lands clear to sweep;

But now he is snug in auld Elibank's paw,

An' shall swing frae our donjon-keep.

Though saddle an' munt again, harness an' dunt again, 'I'll ne'er when I hunt again strike higher game."

"Is this young Wat Scott? an' wad ye rax his craig,
When our daughter is fey for a man?

Gae, gaur the loun marry our muckle-mou'd Meg,
Or we'll ne'er get the jaud aff our han'!"

Glenlogie

"Od! hear our gudewife, she wad fain save your life; Wat Scott, will ye marry or hang?"

But Meg's muckle mou set young Wat's heart agrue.

Wat swore to the woodie he'd gang.

783

Ne'er saddle nor munt again, harness nor dunt again,
Wat ne'er shall hunt again, ne'er see his hame.

Syne muckle-mou'd Meg pressed in close to his side,
An' blinkit fu' sleely and kind,

But aye as Wat glowered at his braw proffered bride,
He shook like a leaf in the wind.

"A bride or a gallows, a rope or a wife!"

The morning dawned sunny and clear

Wat boldly strode forward to part wi' his life,
Till he saw Meggy shedding a tear;

Then saddle an' munt again, harness an' dunt again,
Fain wad Wat hunt again, fain wad be hame.

Meg's tear touched his bosom, the gibbet frowned high, An' slowly Wat strode to his doom;

He gae a glance round wi' a tear in his eye,

Meg shone like a star through the gloom.

She rushed to his arms, they were wed on the spot,
An' lo'ed ither muckle and lang;

Nae bauld border laird had a wife like Wat Scott';
'Twas better to marry than hang.

So saddle an' munt again, harness an' dunt again,
Elibank hunt again, Wat's snug at hame.

James Ballantine [1808–1877]

GLENLOGIE

THREESCORE O' nobles rade to the king's ha',

But bonnie Glenlogie's the flower o' them a',
Wi' his milk-white steed and his bonnie black e'e,
"Glenlogie, dear mither, Glenlogie for me!"

"O haud your tongue, dochter, ye'll get better than he";

"O say na sae, mither, for that canna be;

Though Doumlie is richer, and greater than he,

Yet if I maun tak' him, I'll certainly dee.

"Where will I get a bonnie boy, to win hose and shoon, Will gae to Glenlogie, and come again soon?"

"O here am I, a bonnie boy, to win hose and shoon, Will gae to Glenlogie and come again soon."

When he gaed to Glenlogie, 'twas "Wash and go dine"; 'Twas "Wash ye, my pretty boy, wash and go dine." "O'twas ne'er my father's fashion, and it ne'er shall be mine To gar a lady's errand wait till I dine.

"But there is, Glenlogie, a letter for thee."

The first line that he read, a low smile ga'e he;
The next line that he read, the tear blindit his e'e:
But the last line he read, he gart the table flee.

"Gar saddle the black horse, gar saddle the brown;
Gar saddle the swiftest steed e'er rade frae a town";
But lang ere the horse was brought round to the green,
O bonnie Glenlogie was two mile his lane.

When he cam' to Glenfeldy's door, sma' mirth was there; Bonnie Jean's mither was tearing her hair;

"Ye're welcome, Glenlogie, ye're welcome," said she, "Ye're welcome, Glenlogie, your Jeanie to see."

Pale and wan was she, when Glenlogie gaed ben,

But red rosy grew she whene'er he sat down;
She turned awa' her head, but the smile was in her e'e,
"O binna feared, mither, I'll maybe no dee."

Unknown

LOCHINVAR

From "Marmion"

O, YOUNG Lochinvar is come out of the west,
Through all the wide Border his steed was the best;
And, save his good broadsword, he weapon had none,
He rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone.

So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war,

There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.

785

Lochinvar

He stayed not for brake, and he stopped not for stone,
He swam the Eske river where ford there was none;

But, ere he alighted at Netherby gate,

The bride had consented, the gallant came late;

For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war,
Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar.

So boldly he entered the Netherby Hall,

Among bridesmen, and kinsmen, and brothers, and all.
Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword,
(For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word),
"O come ye in peace here, or come ye in war,
Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar?"

"I long wooed your daughter, my suit you denied;—
Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide,-
And now am I come, with this lost love of mine,
To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine.
There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far,
That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar."

The bride kissed the goblet; the knight took it up,
He quaffed off the wine, and he threw down the cup.
She looked down to blush, and she looked up to sigh,
With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye.
He took her soft hand, ere her mother could bar,-
"Now tread we a measure!" said young Lochinvar.

So stately his form, and so lovely her face,
That never a hall such a galliard did grace;

While her mother did fret, and her father did fume.
And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume;
And the bride-maidens whispered, ""Twere better by far,
To have matched our fair cousin with young Lochinvar."

One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear,
When they reached the hall-door, and the charger stood near
So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung,
So light to the saddle before her he sprung!