The Haunted Hour Part 29

"I am no love for you, Margaret, You are no love for me.

Before to-morrow at eight of the clock, A rich wedding you shall see."

Fair Margaret sat in her bower-window Combing her yellow hair; There she espied sweet William and his bride, As they were a-riding near.

Down she laid her ivory comb, And up she bound her hair; She went away out of her bower, And never returned there.

When day was gone and night was come, And all men fast asleep, There came the spirit of fair Marg'ret, And stood at William's feet.

"Are you awake, sweet William?" she said, "Or, William, are you asleep?

G.o.d give you joy of your gay bride-bed, And me of my winding sheet."

When day was come and night was gone, And all men waked in from sleep, Sweet William to his ladye said,-- "Alas I have cause to weep.

"I dreamt a dream, my dear ladye,-- Such dreams are never good,-- I dreamt my bower was full of red swine, And the walls ran down with blood."

He called up his merrymen all, By one, by two, and by three; Saying, "I'll away to fair Margaret's bower, By the leave of my ladye."

And when he came to fair Margaret's bower, He knocked at the ring; And who so ready as her seven brethren, To let sweet William in.

He turned down the covering-sheet, To see the face of the dead; "Methinks she looks all pale and wan; She hath lost her cherry red.

"I would do more for thee, Margaret, Than would any of thy kin.

And I will kiss thy pale cold lips, Though a smile I cannot win."

With that bespake the seven brethren, Making most piteous moan, "You may go and kiss your jolly brown bride, And let our sister alone!"

"If I do kiss my jolly brown bride, I do but what is right; I ne'er made a vow to yonder poor corpse, By day, nor yet by night."

"Deal on, deal on, ye merrymen all, Deal on your cake and wine.

Whatever is dealt at her funeral to-day, Shall be dealt to-morrow at mine!"

Fair Margaret died as it might be to-day, Sweet William he died the morrow, Fair Margaret died for pure true love, Sweet William he died for sorrow.

Margaret was buried in the lower chancel, And William in the higher; And out of her breast there sprang a rose tree, And out of his a brier.

They grew till they grew unto the church-top, And when they could grow no higher; And there they tied a true lover's knot, Which made all the people admire.

At last the clerk of the parish came, As the truth doth well appear, And by misfortune he cut them down, Or else they had now been here.

SWEET WILLIAM'S GHOST

There came a ghost to Marjorie's door, Wi' many a grievous moan, And aye he tirled at the pin, But answer made she none.

"Oh, say, is that my father?

Or is't my brother John?

Or is it my true love w.i.l.l.y, From Scotland new come home?"

"'Tis not thy father, Marjorie, Nor not thy brother John; But 'tis thy true love w.i.l.l.y From Scotland new come home.

"Oh Marjorie sweet! oh Marjorie dear!

For faith and charitie, Will ye gie me back my faith and troth That I gave once to thee?"

"Thy faith and troth thou gavest to me, And again thou'lt never win, Until thou come within my bower And kiss me cheek and chin."

"My lips they are sae bitter," he says, "My breath it is sae strang, If ye get ae kiss from me to-night, Your days will not be lang.

"The c.o.c.ks are crawing, Marjorie,-- The c.o.c.ks are crawing again: The dead wi' the quick they mustna stay, And I must needs be gone."

She followed him high, she followed him low, Till she came to yon church-yard green, And there the deep grave opened up, And young William he lay down.

"What three things are these, sweet William, That stand beside your head?"

"O it's three maidens, Marjorie, That once I promised to wed."

"What three things are these, sweet William, That stand close at your side?"

"O it's three babes," he says, "Marjorie, That these three maidens had."

"What three things are these, sweet William, That lie close at thy feet?"

"O it's three h.e.l.l-hounds, Marjorie, That's waiting my soul to keep."

And she took up her white, white hand, And struck him on the breast; Saying, "Have here again thy faith and troth, And I wish your soul good rest."

CLERK SAUNDERS

Clerk Saunders and may Margaret Walked ower yon garden green; And deep and heavy was the love That fell thir twa between.

"A bed, a bed," Clerk Saunders said, "A bed for you and me!"

"Fye na, fye na," said may Margaret, "Till anes we married be!"

"Then I'll take the sword frae my scabbard And slowly lift the pin; And you may swear, and save your aith, Ye ne'er let Clerk Saunders in.

"Take your napkin in your hand, Tie up your bonnie een, And you may swear and save your aith, Ye saw me na since yestreen."

It was about the midnight hour, When they asleep were laid, When in and came her seven brothers, Wi' torches burning red:

When in and came her seven brothers, Wi' torches burning bright: They said, "We hae but one sister, And behold her lying with a knight!"

Then out and spake the first o' them, "We will awa' and let them be."

And out and spake the second o' them, "His father has nae mair but he."

And out and spake the third o' them, "I wot that they are lovers dear."

And out and spake the fourth o' them, "They hae been in love this mony a year."

Then out and spake the fifth o' them, "It were great sin true love to twain,"

And out and spake the sixth o' them, "It were shame to slay a sleeping man."

Then up and gat the seventh o' them, And never a word spake he; But he has striped his bright brown brand Out through Clerk Saunders' fair bodye.

Clerk Saunders he started, and Margaret she turned, Into his arms as asleep she lay; And sad and silent was the night That was atween thir twae.