The poetical works of George MacDonald Volume Ii Part 62

Gien he can work, he s' bide.

He was a' wrang, and a' wrang, And a'thegither a' wrang; There, troth, the gudeman o' the toon Was a'thegither a' wrang!

Quo he, It's but a laddie's turn, But best the first be a sma' thing: There's a' thae weyds to gether and burn, And he's the man for a' thing!-- We yokit for the far hill-moss, There was peats to cast and ca; O' 's company we thoucht na loss, 'Twas peace till gloamin-fa'!

We war a' wrang, and a' wrang, And a'thegither a' wrang; There wasna man aboot the toon But was a'thegither a' wrang!

For, losh, or it was denner-time The toon was in a low!

The reek rase up as it had been Frae Sodom-flames, I vow.

We lowst and rade like mad, for byre And ruck bleezt a' thegither, As gien the deil had broucht the fire Frae's h.e.l.l to mak anither!

'Twas a' wrang, and a' wrang, And a'thegither a' wrang, Stick and strae aboot the place Was a'thegither a' wrang!

And luikin on, ban's neth his tails, The waesome carl stude; To see him wagglin at thae tails 'Maist drave 's a' fairly wud.

Ain wite! he cried; I tauld ye sae!

Ye're a' wrang to the last: What gart ye burn thae deevilich weyds Whan the win' blew frae the wast!

Ye're a' wrang, and a' wrang, And a'thegither a' wrang; There's no a man i' this fule warl But's a'thegither a' wrang!

_THE MERMAID_.

Up cam the tide wi' a burst and a whush, And back gaed the stanes wi' a whurr; The king's son walkit i' the evenin hush, To hear the sea murmur and murr.

Straucht ower the water slade frae the mune A glimmer o' cauld weet licht; Ane o' her horns rase the water abune, And lampit across the nicht.

Quhat's that, and that, far oot i' the gray, The laich mune bobbin afore?

It's the bonny sea-maidens at their play-- Haud awa, king's son, frae the sh.o.r.e.

Ae rock stude up like an auld aik-root, The king's son he steppit ahin'; The bonny sea-maidens cam gambolin oot, Kaimin their hair to the win'.

O merry their lauch whan they fan the warm san', For the lichtsome reel sae meet!

Ilk are flang her kaim frae her pearly ban', And tuik til her pearly feet.

But are, wha's beauty was dream and spell, Her kaim on the rock she cuist; Her back was scarce turnt whan the munelicht sh.e.l.l Was lyin i' the prince's breist!

The cluds grew grim as he watched their game, Th' win' blew up an angry tune; Ane efter are tuik up her kaim, And seaward gaed dancin doon.

But are, wi' hair like the mune in a clud, Was left by the rock her lane; Wi' flittin ban's, like a priest's, she stude, 'Maist veiled in a rush o' rain.

She spied the prince, she sank at his feet, And lay like a wreath o' snaw Meltin awa i' the win' and weet O' a wastin wastlin thaw.

He lift.i.t her, trimlin wi' houp and dreid, And hame wi' his prize he gaed, And laid her doon, like a witherin weed, Saft on a gowden bed.

A' that nicht, and a' day the neist, She never lift.i.t heid; Quaiet lay the sea, and quaiet lay her breist, And quaiet lay the kirkyard-deid.

But quhan at the gloamin a sea-breeze keen Blew intil the glimsome room, Like twa settin stars she opened her een, And the sea-flooer began to bloom.

And she saw the prince kneelin at her bed, And afore the mune was new, Careless and cauld she was wooed and wed-- But a winsome wife she grew.

And a' gaed weel till their bairn was born, And syne she cudna sleep; She wud rise at midnicht, and wan'er till morn, Hark-harkin the sough o' the deep.

Ae nicht whan the win' gaed ravin aboot, And the winnocks war speckled wi' faem, Frae room to room she strayt in and oot, And she spied her pearly kaim.

She twined up her hair wi' eager ban's, And in wi' the rainbow kaim!

She's oot, and she's aff ower the s.h.i.+nin san's And awa til her moanin hame!

The prince he start.i.t whaur he lay, He waukit, and was himlane!

He soucht far intil the mornin gray, But his bonny sea-wife was gane!

And ever and aye, i' the mirk or the mune, Whan the win' blew saft frae the sea, The sad sh.o.r.e up and the sad sh.o.r.e doon By the lanely rock paced he.

But never again on the sands to play Cam the maids o' the merry, cauld sea; He heard them lauch far oot i' the bay, But hert-alane gaed he.

_THE YERL O' WATERYDECK_.

The wind it blew, and the s.h.i.+p it flew, And it was "Hey for hame!"

But up an' cried the skipper til his crew, "Haud her oot ower the saut sea faem."

Syne up an' spak the angry king: "Haud on for Dumferline!"

Quo' the skipper, "My lord, this maunna be-- _I_'m king on this boat o' mine!"

He tuik the helm intil his han', He left the sh.o.r.e un'er the lee; Syne croodit sail, an', east an' south, Stude awa richt oot to sea.

Quo' the king, "Leise-majesty, I trow!

Here lies some ill-set plan!

'Bout s.h.i.+p!" Quo' the skipper, "Yer grace forgets Ye are king but o' the lan'!"

Oot he heild to the open sea Quhill the north wind flaughtered an' fell; Syne the east had a bitter word to say That waukent a watery h.e.l.l.

He turnt her heid intil the north: Quo' the n.o.bles, "He s' droon, by the ma.s.s!"

Quo' the skipper, "Haud afif yer lady-ban's Or ye'll never see the Ba.s.s."

The king creepit down the cabin-stair To drink the gude French wine; An' up cam his dochter, the princess fair, An' luikit ower the brine.

She turnt her face to the drivin snaw, To the snaw but and the weet; It claucht her snood, an' awa like a dud Her hair drave oot i' the sleet.

She turnt her face frae the drivin win'-- "Quhat's that aheid?" quo' she.

The skipper he threw himsel frae the win'

An' he brayt the helm alee.

"Put to yer han', my lady fair!

Haud up her heid!" quo' he; "Gien she dinna face the win' a wee mair It's faurweel to you an' me!"

To the tiller the lady she laid her han', An' the s.h.i.+p brayt her cheek to the blast; They joukit the berg, but her quarter sc.r.a.ped, An' they luikit at ither aghast.

Quo' the skipper, "Ye are a lady fair, An' a princess gran' to see, But war ye a beggar, a man wud sail To the h.e.l.l i' yer company!"

She lift.i.t a pale an' a queenly face, Her een flashed, an' syne they swam: "An' what for no to the hevin?" she says, An' she turnt awa frae him.