MAY OF THE MORIL GLEN
I willtell you of ane wondrous tale,As ever was told by man,Or ever was sung by minstrel meetSince this base world began:—It is of ane May, and ane lovely May,That dwelt in the Moril Glen,The fairest flower of mortal frame,But a devil amongst the men;For nine of them sticket themselves for love,And ten leaped in the main,And seven-and-thirty brake their hearts,And never loved women again.But this bonnie May, she never knewA father’s kindly claim;She never was blessed in holy Church,Nor christened in holy name.But there she lived an earthly flowerOf beauty so supreme,Some feared she was of the Mermaid’s brood,Come out of the salt sea faeme.Some said she was found in a Fairy Ring,And born of the Fairy Queen;For there was a rainbow behind the moonThat night she first was seen.And no man could look on her faceAnd eyne that beamed so dearBut felt a sting go through his heart,Far sharper than a spear.So that around the Moril GlenOur brave young men did lie,With limbs as lydder and as litheAs duddis hung out to dry.And aye the tears ran down in streamsO’er cheeks right woe-begone;And aye they gasped, and they gratte,And thus made piteous moan:—“Alack! that I had ever been born,Or dandelit on the knee;Or rockit in ane cradle bed,Beneath a mother’s e’e!“For love is like the fiery flameThat quivers through the rain,And love is like the pang of deathThat splits the heart in twain.“If I had loved earthly thingOf earthly blithesomeness,I might have been beloved again,And bathed in earthly bliss.“But I have loved ane freakish FayOf frowardness and sin,With heavenly beauty on the face,And heart of stone within!”
I willtell you of ane wondrous tale,As ever was told by man,Or ever was sung by minstrel meetSince this base world began:—It is of ane May, and ane lovely May,That dwelt in the Moril Glen,The fairest flower of mortal frame,But a devil amongst the men;For nine of them sticket themselves for love,And ten leaped in the main,And seven-and-thirty brake their hearts,And never loved women again.But this bonnie May, she never knewA father’s kindly claim;She never was blessed in holy Church,Nor christened in holy name.But there she lived an earthly flowerOf beauty so supreme,Some feared she was of the Mermaid’s brood,Come out of the salt sea faeme.Some said she was found in a Fairy Ring,And born of the Fairy Queen;For there was a rainbow behind the moonThat night she first was seen.And no man could look on her faceAnd eyne that beamed so dearBut felt a sting go through his heart,Far sharper than a spear.So that around the Moril GlenOur brave young men did lie,With limbs as lydder and as litheAs duddis hung out to dry.And aye the tears ran down in streamsO’er cheeks right woe-begone;And aye they gasped, and they gratte,And thus made piteous moan:—“Alack! that I had ever been born,Or dandelit on the knee;Or rockit in ane cradle bed,Beneath a mother’s e’e!“For love is like the fiery flameThat quivers through the rain,And love is like the pang of deathThat splits the heart in twain.“If I had loved earthly thingOf earthly blithesomeness,I might have been beloved again,And bathed in earthly bliss.“But I have loved ane freakish FayOf frowardness and sin,With heavenly beauty on the face,And heart of stone within!”
I willtell you of ane wondrous tale,As ever was told by man,Or ever was sung by minstrel meetSince this base world began:—
I willtell you of ane wondrous tale,
As ever was told by man,
Or ever was sung by minstrel meet
Since this base world began:—
It is of ane May, and ane lovely May,That dwelt in the Moril Glen,The fairest flower of mortal frame,But a devil amongst the men;
It is of ane May, and ane lovely May,
That dwelt in the Moril Glen,
The fairest flower of mortal frame,
But a devil amongst the men;
For nine of them sticket themselves for love,And ten leaped in the main,And seven-and-thirty brake their hearts,And never loved women again.
For nine of them sticket themselves for love,
And ten leaped in the main,
And seven-and-thirty brake their hearts,
And never loved women again.
But this bonnie May, she never knewA father’s kindly claim;She never was blessed in holy Church,Nor christened in holy name.
But this bonnie May, she never knew
A father’s kindly claim;
She never was blessed in holy Church,
Nor christened in holy name.
But there she lived an earthly flowerOf beauty so supreme,Some feared she was of the Mermaid’s brood,Come out of the salt sea faeme.
But there she lived an earthly flower
Of beauty so supreme,
Some feared she was of the Mermaid’s brood,
Come out of the salt sea faeme.
Some said she was found in a Fairy Ring,And born of the Fairy Queen;For there was a rainbow behind the moonThat night she first was seen.
Some said she was found in a Fairy Ring,
And born of the Fairy Queen;
For there was a rainbow behind the moon
That night she first was seen.
And no man could look on her faceAnd eyne that beamed so dearBut felt a sting go through his heart,Far sharper than a spear.
And no man could look on her face
And eyne that beamed so dear
But felt a sting go through his heart,
Far sharper than a spear.
So that around the Moril GlenOur brave young men did lie,With limbs as lydder and as litheAs duddis hung out to dry.
So that around the Moril Glen
Our brave young men did lie,
With limbs as lydder and as lithe
As duddis hung out to dry.
And aye the tears ran down in streamsO’er cheeks right woe-begone;And aye they gasped, and they gratte,And thus made piteous moan:—
And aye the tears ran down in streams
O’er cheeks right woe-begone;
And aye they gasped, and they gratte,
And thus made piteous moan:—
“Alack! that I had ever been born,Or dandelit on the knee;Or rockit in ane cradle bed,Beneath a mother’s e’e!
“Alack! that I had ever been born,
Or dandelit on the knee;
Or rockit in ane cradle bed,
Beneath a mother’s e’e!
“For love is like the fiery flameThat quivers through the rain,And love is like the pang of deathThat splits the heart in twain.
“For love is like the fiery flame
That quivers through the rain,
And love is like the pang of death
That splits the heart in twain.
“If I had loved earthly thingOf earthly blithesomeness,I might have been beloved again,And bathed in earthly bliss.
“If I had loved earthly thing
Of earthly blithesomeness,
I might have been beloved again,
And bathed in earthly bliss.
“But I have loved ane freakish FayOf frowardness and sin,With heavenly beauty on the face,And heart of stone within!”
“But I have loved ane freakish Fay
Of frowardness and sin,
With heavenly beauty on the face,
And heart of stone within!”
Butword’s gone East, and word’s gone West,’Mong high and low degree,While it went to the King upon the throne,And ane wrathful man was he.“What!” said the King, “and shall we sitIn sackcloth mourning sad,While all mine lieges of the landFor ane young quean run mad?“Go, saddle me my milk-white steed,Of true Megaira brode;I will go and see this wondrous dame,And prove her by the Rode.“And if I find her Elfin Queen,Or thing of Fairy kind,I will burn her into ashes small,And sift them on the wind.”The King hath chosen four-score Knights,All busked gallantlye,And he is away to the Moril Glen,As fast as he can dree.And when he came to the Moril Glen,Ae morning fair and clear,This lovely May on horseback rodeTo hunt the fallow deer.Her palfrey was of snowy hue,A pale unearthly thing,That revelled over hill and daleLike bird upon the wing.Her screen was like a net of gold,That dazzled as it flew;Her mantle was of the rainbow’s red,Her rail of its bonny blue.A golden comb with diamonds bright,Her seemly virgin crown,Shone like the new moon’s lady-lightO’er cloud of amber brown.The lightning that shot from her eyne,Flickered like Elfin brand;It was sharper nor the sharpest spearIn all Northumberland.The King he wheeled him round about,And calleth to his men,“Yonder she comes, this wierdly Witch,This spirit of the glen!“Come, rank your master up behind,This serpent to belay;I’ll let you hear me put her down,In grand polemic way.”Swift came the maid o’er strath and stron—Nae dantonit dame was she,—Until the King her path withstoodIn might and majestye.The virgin cast on him a look,With gay and graceful air,As on something below her note,That ought not to have been there.The King, whose belt was like to burst,With speeches most divine,Now felt ane throbbing of the heart,And quaking of the spine.And aye he gasped for his breath,And gaped in dire dismay,And waved his arm, and smote his breast;But word he could not say.The spankie grewis they scoured the dale,The dun deer to restrain;The virgin gave her steed the rein,And followed, might and main.“Go bring her back,” the King he cried;“This reifery must not be.Though you should bind her hands and feet,Go, bring her back to me.”The deer she flew, the garf and grewThey followed hard behind;The milk-white palfrey brushed the dewFar fleeter nor the wind.But woe betide the Lords and Knights,That taiglit in the dell!For though with whip and spur they plied,Full far behind they fell.They looked out o’er their left shoulders,To see what they might see,And there the King, in fit of love,Lay spurring on the lea.And, aye, he battered with his feet,And rowted with despair,And pulled the grass up by the roots,And flung it on the air!“What ails, what ails my royal Liege?Such grief I do deplore.”“Oh, I’m bewitched,” the King replied,“And gone forevermore!“Go, bring her back!—go, bring her back!—Go, bring her back to me!For I must either die of love,Or own that dear Ladye!”The deer was slain; the royal trainThen closed the virgin round,And then her fair and lily handsBehind her back were bound.But who should bind her winsome feet?—That bred such strife and pain,That sixteen brave and belted KnightsLay gasping on the plain.And when she came before the King,Ane ireful carle was he;Saith he, “Dame, you must be my love,Or burn beneath ane tree.”“No, I can ne’er be love to thee,Nor any lord thou hast;For you are married men each one,And I a maiden chaste.“But here I promise, and I vowBy Scotland’s King and Crown,Who first a widower shall prove,Shall claim me as his own.”The King hath mounted his milk-white steed,—One word he said not more,—And he is away from the Moril Glen,As ne’er rode King before.And every Lord and every KnightMade off his several way,All galloping as they had been mad,Withoutten stop or stay.But there was never such dole and painIn any land befel;For there is wickedness in man,That grieveth me to tell.There was one eye, and one alone,Beheld the deeds were done;But the lovely Queen of Fair ScotlandNe’er saw the morning sun.And seventy-seven wedded dames,As fair as e’er were born,The very pride of all the land,Were dead before the morn.
Butword’s gone East, and word’s gone West,’Mong high and low degree,While it went to the King upon the throne,And ane wrathful man was he.“What!” said the King, “and shall we sitIn sackcloth mourning sad,While all mine lieges of the landFor ane young quean run mad?“Go, saddle me my milk-white steed,Of true Megaira brode;I will go and see this wondrous dame,And prove her by the Rode.“And if I find her Elfin Queen,Or thing of Fairy kind,I will burn her into ashes small,And sift them on the wind.”The King hath chosen four-score Knights,All busked gallantlye,And he is away to the Moril Glen,As fast as he can dree.And when he came to the Moril Glen,Ae morning fair and clear,This lovely May on horseback rodeTo hunt the fallow deer.Her palfrey was of snowy hue,A pale unearthly thing,That revelled over hill and daleLike bird upon the wing.Her screen was like a net of gold,That dazzled as it flew;Her mantle was of the rainbow’s red,Her rail of its bonny blue.A golden comb with diamonds bright,Her seemly virgin crown,Shone like the new moon’s lady-lightO’er cloud of amber brown.The lightning that shot from her eyne,Flickered like Elfin brand;It was sharper nor the sharpest spearIn all Northumberland.The King he wheeled him round about,And calleth to his men,“Yonder she comes, this wierdly Witch,This spirit of the glen!“Come, rank your master up behind,This serpent to belay;I’ll let you hear me put her down,In grand polemic way.”Swift came the maid o’er strath and stron—Nae dantonit dame was she,—Until the King her path withstoodIn might and majestye.The virgin cast on him a look,With gay and graceful air,As on something below her note,That ought not to have been there.The King, whose belt was like to burst,With speeches most divine,Now felt ane throbbing of the heart,And quaking of the spine.And aye he gasped for his breath,And gaped in dire dismay,And waved his arm, and smote his breast;But word he could not say.The spankie grewis they scoured the dale,The dun deer to restrain;The virgin gave her steed the rein,And followed, might and main.“Go bring her back,” the King he cried;“This reifery must not be.Though you should bind her hands and feet,Go, bring her back to me.”The deer she flew, the garf and grewThey followed hard behind;The milk-white palfrey brushed the dewFar fleeter nor the wind.But woe betide the Lords and Knights,That taiglit in the dell!For though with whip and spur they plied,Full far behind they fell.They looked out o’er their left shoulders,To see what they might see,And there the King, in fit of love,Lay spurring on the lea.And, aye, he battered with his feet,And rowted with despair,And pulled the grass up by the roots,And flung it on the air!“What ails, what ails my royal Liege?Such grief I do deplore.”“Oh, I’m bewitched,” the King replied,“And gone forevermore!“Go, bring her back!—go, bring her back!—Go, bring her back to me!For I must either die of love,Or own that dear Ladye!”The deer was slain; the royal trainThen closed the virgin round,And then her fair and lily handsBehind her back were bound.But who should bind her winsome feet?—That bred such strife and pain,That sixteen brave and belted KnightsLay gasping on the plain.And when she came before the King,Ane ireful carle was he;Saith he, “Dame, you must be my love,Or burn beneath ane tree.”“No, I can ne’er be love to thee,Nor any lord thou hast;For you are married men each one,And I a maiden chaste.“But here I promise, and I vowBy Scotland’s King and Crown,Who first a widower shall prove,Shall claim me as his own.”The King hath mounted his milk-white steed,—One word he said not more,—And he is away from the Moril Glen,As ne’er rode King before.And every Lord and every KnightMade off his several way,All galloping as they had been mad,Withoutten stop or stay.But there was never such dole and painIn any land befel;For there is wickedness in man,That grieveth me to tell.There was one eye, and one alone,Beheld the deeds were done;But the lovely Queen of Fair ScotlandNe’er saw the morning sun.And seventy-seven wedded dames,As fair as e’er were born,The very pride of all the land,Were dead before the morn.
Butword’s gone East, and word’s gone West,’Mong high and low degree,While it went to the King upon the throne,And ane wrathful man was he.
Butword’s gone East, and word’s gone West,
’Mong high and low degree,
While it went to the King upon the throne,
And ane wrathful man was he.
“What!” said the King, “and shall we sitIn sackcloth mourning sad,While all mine lieges of the landFor ane young quean run mad?
“What!” said the King, “and shall we sit
In sackcloth mourning sad,
While all mine lieges of the land
For ane young quean run mad?
“Go, saddle me my milk-white steed,Of true Megaira brode;I will go and see this wondrous dame,And prove her by the Rode.
“Go, saddle me my milk-white steed,
Of true Megaira brode;
I will go and see this wondrous dame,
And prove her by the Rode.
“And if I find her Elfin Queen,Or thing of Fairy kind,I will burn her into ashes small,And sift them on the wind.”
“And if I find her Elfin Queen,
Or thing of Fairy kind,
I will burn her into ashes small,
And sift them on the wind.”
The King hath chosen four-score Knights,All busked gallantlye,And he is away to the Moril Glen,As fast as he can dree.
The King hath chosen four-score Knights,
All busked gallantlye,
And he is away to the Moril Glen,
As fast as he can dree.
And when he came to the Moril Glen,Ae morning fair and clear,This lovely May on horseback rodeTo hunt the fallow deer.
And when he came to the Moril Glen,
Ae morning fair and clear,
This lovely May on horseback rode
To hunt the fallow deer.
Her palfrey was of snowy hue,A pale unearthly thing,That revelled over hill and daleLike bird upon the wing.
Her palfrey was of snowy hue,
A pale unearthly thing,
That revelled over hill and dale
Like bird upon the wing.
Her screen was like a net of gold,That dazzled as it flew;Her mantle was of the rainbow’s red,Her rail of its bonny blue.
Her screen was like a net of gold,
That dazzled as it flew;
Her mantle was of the rainbow’s red,
Her rail of its bonny blue.
A golden comb with diamonds bright,Her seemly virgin crown,Shone like the new moon’s lady-lightO’er cloud of amber brown.
A golden comb with diamonds bright,
Her seemly virgin crown,
Shone like the new moon’s lady-light
O’er cloud of amber brown.
The lightning that shot from her eyne,Flickered like Elfin brand;It was sharper nor the sharpest spearIn all Northumberland.
The lightning that shot from her eyne,
Flickered like Elfin brand;
It was sharper nor the sharpest spear
In all Northumberland.
The King he wheeled him round about,And calleth to his men,“Yonder she comes, this wierdly Witch,This spirit of the glen!
The King he wheeled him round about,
And calleth to his men,
“Yonder she comes, this wierdly Witch,
This spirit of the glen!
“Come, rank your master up behind,This serpent to belay;I’ll let you hear me put her down,In grand polemic way.”
“Come, rank your master up behind,
This serpent to belay;
I’ll let you hear me put her down,
In grand polemic way.”
Swift came the maid o’er strath and stron—Nae dantonit dame was she,—Until the King her path withstoodIn might and majestye.
Swift came the maid o’er strath and stron—
Nae dantonit dame was she,—
Until the King her path withstood
In might and majestye.
The virgin cast on him a look,With gay and graceful air,As on something below her note,That ought not to have been there.
The virgin cast on him a look,
With gay and graceful air,
As on something below her note,
That ought not to have been there.
The King, whose belt was like to burst,With speeches most divine,Now felt ane throbbing of the heart,And quaking of the spine.
The King, whose belt was like to burst,
With speeches most divine,
Now felt ane throbbing of the heart,
And quaking of the spine.
And aye he gasped for his breath,And gaped in dire dismay,And waved his arm, and smote his breast;But word he could not say.
And aye he gasped for his breath,
And gaped in dire dismay,
And waved his arm, and smote his breast;
But word he could not say.
The spankie grewis they scoured the dale,The dun deer to restrain;The virgin gave her steed the rein,And followed, might and main.
The spankie grewis they scoured the dale,
The dun deer to restrain;
The virgin gave her steed the rein,
And followed, might and main.
“Go bring her back,” the King he cried;“This reifery must not be.Though you should bind her hands and feet,Go, bring her back to me.”
“Go bring her back,” the King he cried;
“This reifery must not be.
Though you should bind her hands and feet,
Go, bring her back to me.”
The deer she flew, the garf and grewThey followed hard behind;The milk-white palfrey brushed the dewFar fleeter nor the wind.
The deer she flew, the garf and grew
They followed hard behind;
The milk-white palfrey brushed the dew
Far fleeter nor the wind.
But woe betide the Lords and Knights,That taiglit in the dell!For though with whip and spur they plied,Full far behind they fell.
But woe betide the Lords and Knights,
That taiglit in the dell!
For though with whip and spur they plied,
Full far behind they fell.
They looked out o’er their left shoulders,To see what they might see,And there the King, in fit of love,Lay spurring on the lea.
They looked out o’er their left shoulders,
To see what they might see,
And there the King, in fit of love,
Lay spurring on the lea.
And, aye, he battered with his feet,And rowted with despair,And pulled the grass up by the roots,And flung it on the air!
And, aye, he battered with his feet,
And rowted with despair,
And pulled the grass up by the roots,
And flung it on the air!
“What ails, what ails my royal Liege?Such grief I do deplore.”“Oh, I’m bewitched,” the King replied,“And gone forevermore!
“What ails, what ails my royal Liege?
Such grief I do deplore.”
“Oh, I’m bewitched,” the King replied,
“And gone forevermore!
“Go, bring her back!—go, bring her back!—Go, bring her back to me!For I must either die of love,Or own that dear Ladye!”
“Go, bring her back!—go, bring her back!—
Go, bring her back to me!
For I must either die of love,
Or own that dear Ladye!”
The deer was slain; the royal trainThen closed the virgin round,And then her fair and lily handsBehind her back were bound.
The deer was slain; the royal train
Then closed the virgin round,
And then her fair and lily hands
Behind her back were bound.
But who should bind her winsome feet?—That bred such strife and pain,That sixteen brave and belted KnightsLay gasping on the plain.
But who should bind her winsome feet?—
That bred such strife and pain,
That sixteen brave and belted Knights
Lay gasping on the plain.
And when she came before the King,Ane ireful carle was he;Saith he, “Dame, you must be my love,Or burn beneath ane tree.”
And when she came before the King,
Ane ireful carle was he;
Saith he, “Dame, you must be my love,
Or burn beneath ane tree.”
“No, I can ne’er be love to thee,Nor any lord thou hast;For you are married men each one,And I a maiden chaste.
“No, I can ne’er be love to thee,
Nor any lord thou hast;
For you are married men each one,
And I a maiden chaste.
“But here I promise, and I vowBy Scotland’s King and Crown,Who first a widower shall prove,Shall claim me as his own.”
“But here I promise, and I vow
By Scotland’s King and Crown,
Who first a widower shall prove,
Shall claim me as his own.”
The King hath mounted his milk-white steed,—One word he said not more,—And he is away from the Moril Glen,As ne’er rode King before.
The King hath mounted his milk-white steed,—
One word he said not more,—
And he is away from the Moril Glen,
As ne’er rode King before.
And every Lord and every KnightMade off his several way,All galloping as they had been mad,Withoutten stop or stay.
And every Lord and every Knight
Made off his several way,
All galloping as they had been mad,
Withoutten stop or stay.
But there was never such dole and painIn any land befel;For there is wickedness in man,That grieveth me to tell.
But there was never such dole and pain
In any land befel;
For there is wickedness in man,
That grieveth me to tell.
There was one eye, and one alone,Beheld the deeds were done;But the lovely Queen of Fair ScotlandNe’er saw the morning sun.
There was one eye, and one alone,
Beheld the deeds were done;
But the lovely Queen of Fair Scotland
Ne’er saw the morning sun.
And seventy-seven wedded dames,As fair as e’er were born,The very pride of all the land,Were dead before the morn.
And seventy-seven wedded dames,
As fair as e’er were born,
The very pride of all the land,
Were dead before the morn.
Andthe bonny May of the Moril GlenIs weeping in despair,For she saw the hills of fair Scotland,Could be her home nae mair.Then there were chariots came o’er night,As silent and as soonAs shadow of ane little cloudIn the wan light of the moon.Some said they came out of the rock,And some out of the sea;And some said they were sent from HellTo bring that fair Ladye.The fairest flower of mortal framePassed from the Moril Glen;And ne’er may such a deadly eyeShine amongst Christian men!In seven chariots, gilded bright,The train went o’er the fell,All wrapt within ane shower of hail;Whither no man could tell.But there was a Ship in the Firth of Forth,The like ne’er sailed the faeme,For no man of her country knew,Her colours, or her name.Her mast was made of beaten gold,Her sails of the silken twine,And a thousand pennons streamed behind,And trembled o’er the brine.As she lay mirrored in the main,It was a comely view,So many rainbows round her playedWith every breeze that blew.And the hailstone shroud it rattled loud,Right over ford and fen,And swathed the flower of the Moril GlenFrom eyes of sinful men.And the hailstone shroud it wheeled and rowed,As wan as death unshriven,Like dead cloth of ane Angel grim,Or winding sheet of Heaven.It was a fearsome sight to seeToil through the morning grey,And whenever it reached the comely Ship,She set sail and away.She set her sail before the gale,As it began to sing,And she heaved and rocked down the tide,Unlike an earthly thing.The dolphins fled out of her wayInto the creeks of Fife,And the blackguard seals, they yowlit for dread,And swam for death and life.But aye the Ship, the bonny ShipOut o’er the green wave flew,Swift as the solan on the wing,Or terrified sea-mew.No billow breasted on her prow,Nor levelled on the lee;She seemed to sail upon the air,And never touch the sea.And away, and away went the bonny Ship,Which man never more did see;But whether she went to Heaven or Hell,Was ne’er made known to me.
Andthe bonny May of the Moril GlenIs weeping in despair,For she saw the hills of fair Scotland,Could be her home nae mair.Then there were chariots came o’er night,As silent and as soonAs shadow of ane little cloudIn the wan light of the moon.Some said they came out of the rock,And some out of the sea;And some said they were sent from HellTo bring that fair Ladye.The fairest flower of mortal framePassed from the Moril Glen;And ne’er may such a deadly eyeShine amongst Christian men!In seven chariots, gilded bright,The train went o’er the fell,All wrapt within ane shower of hail;Whither no man could tell.But there was a Ship in the Firth of Forth,The like ne’er sailed the faeme,For no man of her country knew,Her colours, or her name.Her mast was made of beaten gold,Her sails of the silken twine,And a thousand pennons streamed behind,And trembled o’er the brine.As she lay mirrored in the main,It was a comely view,So many rainbows round her playedWith every breeze that blew.And the hailstone shroud it rattled loud,Right over ford and fen,And swathed the flower of the Moril GlenFrom eyes of sinful men.And the hailstone shroud it wheeled and rowed,As wan as death unshriven,Like dead cloth of ane Angel grim,Or winding sheet of Heaven.It was a fearsome sight to seeToil through the morning grey,And whenever it reached the comely Ship,She set sail and away.She set her sail before the gale,As it began to sing,And she heaved and rocked down the tide,Unlike an earthly thing.The dolphins fled out of her wayInto the creeks of Fife,And the blackguard seals, they yowlit for dread,And swam for death and life.But aye the Ship, the bonny ShipOut o’er the green wave flew,Swift as the solan on the wing,Or terrified sea-mew.No billow breasted on her prow,Nor levelled on the lee;She seemed to sail upon the air,And never touch the sea.And away, and away went the bonny Ship,Which man never more did see;But whether she went to Heaven or Hell,Was ne’er made known to me.
Andthe bonny May of the Moril GlenIs weeping in despair,For she saw the hills of fair Scotland,Could be her home nae mair.
Andthe bonny May of the Moril Glen
Is weeping in despair,
For she saw the hills of fair Scotland,
Could be her home nae mair.
Then there were chariots came o’er night,As silent and as soonAs shadow of ane little cloudIn the wan light of the moon.
Then there were chariots came o’er night,
As silent and as soon
As shadow of ane little cloud
In the wan light of the moon.
Some said they came out of the rock,And some out of the sea;And some said they were sent from HellTo bring that fair Ladye.
Some said they came out of the rock,
And some out of the sea;
And some said they were sent from Hell
To bring that fair Ladye.
The fairest flower of mortal framePassed from the Moril Glen;And ne’er may such a deadly eyeShine amongst Christian men!
The fairest flower of mortal frame
Passed from the Moril Glen;
And ne’er may such a deadly eye
Shine amongst Christian men!
In seven chariots, gilded bright,The train went o’er the fell,All wrapt within ane shower of hail;Whither no man could tell.
In seven chariots, gilded bright,
The train went o’er the fell,
All wrapt within ane shower of hail;
Whither no man could tell.
But there was a Ship in the Firth of Forth,The like ne’er sailed the faeme,For no man of her country knew,Her colours, or her name.
But there was a Ship in the Firth of Forth,
The like ne’er sailed the faeme,
For no man of her country knew,
Her colours, or her name.
Her mast was made of beaten gold,Her sails of the silken twine,And a thousand pennons streamed behind,And trembled o’er the brine.
Her mast was made of beaten gold,
Her sails of the silken twine,
And a thousand pennons streamed behind,
And trembled o’er the brine.
As she lay mirrored in the main,It was a comely view,So many rainbows round her playedWith every breeze that blew.
As she lay mirrored in the main,
It was a comely view,
So many rainbows round her played
With every breeze that blew.
And the hailstone shroud it rattled loud,Right over ford and fen,And swathed the flower of the Moril GlenFrom eyes of sinful men.
And the hailstone shroud it rattled loud,
Right over ford and fen,
And swathed the flower of the Moril Glen
From eyes of sinful men.
And the hailstone shroud it wheeled and rowed,As wan as death unshriven,Like dead cloth of ane Angel grim,Or winding sheet of Heaven.
And the hailstone shroud it wheeled and rowed,
As wan as death unshriven,
Like dead cloth of ane Angel grim,
Or winding sheet of Heaven.
It was a fearsome sight to seeToil through the morning grey,And whenever it reached the comely Ship,She set sail and away.
It was a fearsome sight to see
Toil through the morning grey,
And whenever it reached the comely Ship,
She set sail and away.
She set her sail before the gale,As it began to sing,And she heaved and rocked down the tide,Unlike an earthly thing.
She set her sail before the gale,
As it began to sing,
And she heaved and rocked down the tide,
Unlike an earthly thing.
The dolphins fled out of her wayInto the creeks of Fife,And the blackguard seals, they yowlit for dread,And swam for death and life.
The dolphins fled out of her way
Into the creeks of Fife,
And the blackguard seals, they yowlit for dread,
And swam for death and life.
But aye the Ship, the bonny ShipOut o’er the green wave flew,Swift as the solan on the wing,Or terrified sea-mew.
But aye the Ship, the bonny Ship
Out o’er the green wave flew,
Swift as the solan on the wing,
Or terrified sea-mew.
No billow breasted on her prow,Nor levelled on the lee;She seemed to sail upon the air,And never touch the sea.
No billow breasted on her prow,
Nor levelled on the lee;
She seemed to sail upon the air,
And never touch the sea.
And away, and away went the bonny Ship,Which man never more did see;But whether she went to Heaven or Hell,Was ne’er made known to me.
And away, and away went the bonny Ship,
Which man never more did see;
But whether she went to Heaven or Hell,
Was ne’er made known to me.
The Ettrick Shepherd. (Condensed)