Nay, never ask this week, fair lord, François Villon 124 O WALY WALY WALY waly up the bank, And waly waly down the brae, And waly waly yon burnside Where I and my Love wont to gae! I leant my back unto an aik, I thought it was a trusty tree; O waly waly, but love be bonny Now Arthur-seat sall be my bed; The sheets shall ne'er be 'filed by me: Aik: oak Burnside: brookside Syne: afterwards 125 Marti'mas wind, when wilt thou blaw And shake the green leaves aff the tree? 'Tis not the frost, that freezes fell, But my Love's heart grown cauld to me, But had I wist, before I kist, That love had been sae ill to win; And I myself were dead and gane, THE BANKS O' DOON E banks and braes o' bonnie Doon, Old Ballad How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair? How can ye chant, ye little birds, And I sae weary, fu' o' care? Thou'lt break my heart, thou warbling bird, That wantons through the flowering thorn; Departed-never to return. Braes: hillsides Fell: severely Wist: known Aft hae I roved by bonnie Doon, And fondly sae did I o' mine. They know not I knew thee Who knew thee too well: In secret we met: In silence I grieve That thy heart could forget, If I should meet thee After long years, How should I greet thee? With silence and tears. Lord Byron 127 LOVE'S FAREWELL INCE there's no help, come let us kiss and part,— SINCE Nay I have done, you get no more of me; And I am glad, yea, glad with all my heart, That we one jot of former love retain. -Now if thou wouldst, when all have given him over, Michael Drayton 28 THE RECONCILIATION1 HORACE WHILST I was dear and thou wert kind, And I, and I alone, might lie Upon thy snowy breast reclined, Not Persia's king so blest as I. LYDIA Whilst I to thee was all in all, HORACE I now am Thracian Chloë's slave, With hand and voice that charms the air, For whom even death itself I'd brave, So fate the darling girl would spare! LYDIA I dote on Calaïs—and I Am all his passion, all his care, So fate the darling boy would spare! 1 Translated by Sir Theodore Martin. |