The Land of Song Volume Ii Part 8

"If pall and vair no more I wear, Nor thou the crimson sheen, As warm, we'll say, is the russet gray; As gay the forest green.

"And, Richard, if our lot be hard, And lost thy native land, Still Alice has her own Richard, And he his Alice Brand."

II.

'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in good greenwood, So blithe Lady Alice is singing; On the beech's pride and oak's brown side, Lord Richard's ax is ringing.

Up spoke the moody Elfin King, Who wonn'd within the hill,-- Like wind in the porch of a ruined church, His voice was ghostly shrill.

"Why sounds yon stroke on beach and oak, Our moonlight circle's screen?

Or who comes here to chase the deer, Beloved of our Elfin Queen?

Or who may dare on wold to wear The fairies' fatal green?

"Up, Urgan, up! to yon mortal hie, For thou wert christened man: For cross or sign thou wilt not fly, For muttered word or ban.

"Lay on him the curse of the withered heart, The curse of the sleepless eye; Till he wish and pray that his life would part, Nor yet find leave to die!"

III.

'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in good greenwood, Though the birds have stilled their singing; The evening blaze doth Alice raise, And Richard is f.a.gots bringing.

Up Urgan starts, that hideous dwarf, Before Lord Richard stands, And as he crossed and blessed himself, "I fear not sign," quoth the grisly elf, "That is made with b.l.o.o.d.y hands."

But out then spoke she, Alice Brand, That woman void of fear,-- "And if there's blood upon his hand, 'Tis but the blood of deer."

"Now loud thou liest, thou bold of mood!

It cleaves unto his hand, The stain of thine own kindly blood, The blood of Ethert Brand."

Then forward stepped she, Alice Brand, And made the holy sign,-- "And if there's blood on Richard's hand, A spotless hand is mine.

"And I conjure thee, Demon elf, By Him whom Demons fear, To show us whence thou art thyself, And what thine errand here?"

IV.

"'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in Fairyland, When fairy birds are singing, When the court doth ride by their monarch's side, With bit and bridle ringing:

"And gayly s.h.i.+nes the Fairyland-- But all is glistening show, Like the idle gleam that December's beam Can dart on ice and snow.

"And fading, like that varied gleam, Is our inconstant shape, Who now like knight and lady seem, And now like dwarf and ape.

"It was between the night and day, When the Fairy King has power, That I sunk down in a sinful fray, And 'twixt life and death, was s.n.a.t.c.hed away, To the joyless Elfin bower.

"But wist I of a woman bold, Who thrice my brow durst sign, I might regain my mortal mold, As fair a form as thine."

She crossed him once--she crossed him twice-- That lady was so brave; The fouler grew his goblin hue, The darker grew the cave.

She crossed him thrice, that lady bold!

He rose beneath her hand The fairest knight on Scottish mold, Her brother, Ethert Brand!

Merry it is in good greenwood, When the mavis and merle are singing; But merrier were they in Dumfermline gray When all the bells were ringing.

SIR WALTER SCOTT.

FOR A' THAT, AND A' THAT.

Is there, for honest poverty, That hangs his head, and a' that?

The coward slave, we pa.s.s him by, We dare be poor for a' that!

For a' that, and a' that, Our toils obscure, and a' that; The rank is but the guinea's stamp, The man's the gowd for a' that!

What tho' on hamely fare we dine, Wear hoddin gray, and a' that; Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine, A man's a man, for a' that!

For a' that, and a' that, Their tinsel show, and a' that; The honest man, though e'er sae poor, Is king o' men for a' that!

Ye see yon birkie, ca'd a lord, Wha struts, and stares, and a' that: Though hundreds wors.h.i.+p at his word, He's but a coof for a' that: For a' that, and a' that, His riband, star, and a' that; The man of independent mind, He looks and laughs at a' that.

[Ill.u.s.tration: ROBERT BURNS.]

A king can make a belted knight, A marquis, duke, and a' that; But an honest man's aboon his might!

Guid faith, he mauna fa' that; For a' that, and a' that, Their dignities, and a' that; The pith o' sense, and pride o' worth, Are higher ranks than a' that.

Then let us pray that come it may-- As come it will, for a' that-- That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth, May bear the gree, and a' that!

For a' that, and a' that, It's comin' yet for a' that; That man to man, the warld o'er, Shall brothers be for a' that!

ROBERT BURNS.

THE CHILDREN IN THE WOOD.

Now ponder well, you parents dear, These words which I shall write; A doleful story you shall hear, In time brought forth to light.

A gentleman of good account In Norfolk dwelt of late, Who did in honor far surmount Most men of his estate.

Sore sick he was, and like to die, No help his life could save; His wife by him as sick did lie, And both possessed one grave.

No love between these two was lost, Each was to other kind; In love they lived, in love they died, And left two babes behind.

The one, a fine and pretty boy, Not pa.s.sing three years old; The other, a girl more young than he, And framed in beauty's mold.

The father left his little son, As plainly doth appear, When he to perfect age should come, Three hundred pounds a year.

And to his little daughter Jane, Five hundred pounds in gold, To be paid down on her marriage day, Which might not be controlled: But if the children chanced to die Ere they to age should come, Their uncle should possess their wealth; For so the will did run.

"Now, brother," said the dying man, "Look to my children dear; Be good unto my boy and girl, No friends else have they here: To G.o.d and you I recommend My children dear this day; But little while be sure we have Within this world to stay.