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Nay, never ask this week, fair lord,
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
And fades awa' like morning dew.
Now Arthur-seat sall be my bed;
The sheets shall ne'er be 'filed by me:
Since my true Love has forsaken me.
Marti'mas wind, when wilt thou blaw
'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;
I had locked my heart in a case of gowd
And I myself were dead and gane,
THE BANKS O' DOON
E banks and braes o' bonnie Doon,
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;
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:
Long, long shall I rue thee
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.
INCE there's no help, come let us kiss and part,
Nay I have done, you get no more of me;
That we one jot of former love retain.
-Now if thou wouldst, when all have given him over,
HILST I was dear and thou wert kind,
Upon thy snowy breast reclined,
Not Persia's king so blest as I.
Whilst I to thee was all in all,
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!
I dote on Calaïs and I
Am all his passion, all his care,
For whom a double death I'd die,
So fate the darling boy would spare!
1 Translated by Sir Theodore Martin.