Ballads, Lyrics and Poems of Old France | Page 9

will wed to-morrow.
'Tis all for a rose,
That I gave her not,
And I would that it grew
In
the garden plot.
And I would the rose-tree
Were still to set,
That my love Marie

Might love me yet.
BALLADS OF MODERN GREECE.
THE BRIGAND'S GRAVE.
The moon came up above the hill,
The sun went down the sea;
Go,
maids, and fetch the well-water,
But, lad, come here to me.
Gird on my jack and my old sword,
For I have never a son;
And
you must be the chief of all
When I am dead and gone.
But you must take my old broad sword,
And cut the green bough of
the tree,
And strew the green boughs on the ground
To make a soft
death bed for me.
And you must bring the holy priest
That I may sained be;
For I have
lived a roving life
Fifty years under the greenwood tree.
And you shall make a grave for me,
And make it deep and wide;

That I may turn about and dream
With my old gun by my side.
And leave a window to the east,
And the swallows will bring the

spring;
And all the merry month of May
The nightingales will sing.
THE SUDDEN BRIDAL.
It was a maid lay sick of love,
All for a leman fair;
And it was three
of her bower-maidens
That came to comfort her.
The first she bore a blossomed branch,
The second an apple brown,

The third she had a silk kerchief,
And still her tears ran down.
The first she mocked, the second she laughed -
'We have loved
lemans fair,
We made our hearts like the iron stone
Had little teen
or care.'
'If ye have loved 'twas a false false love,
And an ill leman was he;

But her true love had angel's eyes,
And as fair was his sweet body.
And I will gird my green kirtle,
And braid my yellow hair,
And I
will over the high hills
And bring her love to her.'
'Nay, if you braid your yellow hair,
You'll twine my love from me.'

'Now nay, now nay, my lady good,
That ever this should be!'
'When you have crossed the western hills
My true love you shall meet,

With a green flag blowing over him,
And green grass at his feet.'
She has crossed over the high hills,
And the low hills between,
And
she has found the may's leman
Beneath a flag of green.
'Twas four and twenty ladies fair
Were sitting on the grass;
But he
has turned and looked on her,
And will not let her pass.
'You've maidens here, and maidens there,
And loves through all the
land;
But what have you made of the lady fair
You gave the
rose-garland?'

She was so harsh and cold of love,
To me gave little grace;
She
wept if I but touched her hand,
Or kissed her bonny face.
'Yea, crows shall build in the eagle's nest,
The hawk the dove shall
wed,
Before my old true love and I
Meet in one wedding bed.'
When she had heard his bitter rede
That was his old true love,
She
sat and wept within her bower,
And moaned even as a dove.
She rose up from her window seat,
And she looked out to see;
Her
love came riding up the street
With a goodly company.
He was clad on with Venice gold,
Wrought upon cramoisie,
His
yellow hair shone like the sun
About his fair body.
'Now shall I call him blossomed branch
That has ill knots therein?

Or shall I call him basil plant,
That comes of an evil kin?
'Oh, I shall give him goodly names,
My sword of damask fine;
My
silver flower, my bright-winged bird,
Where go you, lover mine?'
'I go to marry my new bride,
That I bring o'er the down;
And you
shall be her bridal maid,
And hold her bridal crown.'
'When you come to the bride chamber
Where your fair maiden is,

You'll tell her I was fair of face,
But never tell her this,
'That still my lips were lips of love,
My kiss love's spring-water,

That my love was a running spring,
My breast a garden fair.
'And you have kissed the lips of love
And drained the well-water,

And you have spoiled the running spring,
And robbed the fruits so
fair.'

'Now he that will may scatter nuts,
And he may wed that will;
But
she that was my old true love
Shall be my true love still.'
GREEK FOLK SONGS.
IANNOULA.
All the maidens were merry and wed
All to lovers so fair to see;

The lover I took to my bridal bed
He is not long for love and me.
I spoke to him and he noting said,
I gave him bread of the wheat so
fine,
He did not eat of the bridal bread,
He did not drink of the
bridal wine.
I made him a bed was soft and deep,
I made him a bed to sleep with
me;
'Look on me once before you sleep,
And look on the flower of
my fair body.
'Flowers of April, and fresh May-dew,
Dew of April and buds of May;

Two white blossoms that bud for you,
Buds that blossom before
the day.'
THE TELL-TALES.
All in the mirk midnight when I was beside you,
Who