Waly, Waly, Love Be Bonny. A Scottish Song

O waly, waly up the bank,
And waly, waly down the brae,
And waly, waly yon burn side,
Where I and my love wer wont to gae.
I leant my back unto an aik,
I thought it was a trusty tree;
But first it bow'd, and syne it brak,
Sae my true love did lichtly me.

O waly, waly, gin love be bonny,
A little time while it is new;
But when its auld, it waxeth cauld,
And fades awa' like morning dew.
O wherefore shuld I busk my head?
Or wherefore shuld I kame my hair?
For my true love has me forsook,
And says he'll never loe me mair.

Now Arthur-Seat sall be my bed,
The sheets shall neir be fyl'd by me:

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poem by Anonymous Olde English
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Alison

Bytuene Mershe and Averil
When spray biginneth to springe,
The lutel foul hath hire wyl
On hyre lud to synge:
Ich libbe in love-longinge
For semlokest of alle thynge,
He may me blisse bringe,
Ich am in hire baundoun.
An hendy hap ichabbe y-hent,
Ichot from hevene it is me sent,
From alle wymmen my love is lent
And lyht on Alysoun.

On heu hire her is fayr ynoh,
Hire browe broune, hire eye blake;
With lossum chere he on me loh;
With middel smal and wel y-make;
Bote he me wolle to hire take
For to buen hire owen make,
Long to lyven ichulle forsake

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My Heart is High Above

MY heart is high above, my body is full of bliss,
For I am set in luve as well as I would wiss
I luve my lady pure and she luvis me again,
I am her serviture, she is my soverane;
She is my very heart, I am her howp and heill,
She is my joy invart, I am her luvar leal;
I am her bond and thrall, she is at my command;
I am perpetual her man, both foot and hand;
The thing that may her please my body sall fulfil;
Quhatever her disease, it does my body ill.
My bird, my bonny ane, my tender babe venust,
My luve, my life alane, my liking and my lust!
We interchange our hairtis in others armis soft,
Spriteless we twa depairtis, usand our luvis oft.
We mourn when licht day dawis, we plain the nicht is short, 15
We curse the cock that crawis, that hinderis our disport.
I glowffin up aghast, quhen I her miss on nicht,
And in my oxter fast I find the bowster richt;
Then languor on me lies like Morpheus the mair,
Quhilk causes me uprise and to my sweet repair.

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The Forsaken Bride

O waly waly up the bank,
And waly waly down the brae,
And waly waly yon burn-side
Where I and my Love wont to gae!
I leant my back unto an aik,
I thought it was a trusty tree;
But first it bow'd, and syne it brak,
Sae my true Love did lichtly me.

O waly waly, but love be bonny
A little time while it is new;
But when 'tis auld, it waxeth cauld
And fades awa' like morning dew.
O wherefore should I busk my head?
Or wherefore should I kame my hair?
For my true Love has me forsook,
And says he'll never lo'e me mair.

Now Arthur-seat sall be my bed,
The sheets shall ne'er be prest by me,

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Alli Verifiglioli Delle Muse

Ye moderne Lawreats famousd for your writ,
VVho for your pregnance may in Delos dwelt,
On your sweete lines eternitie doth sit,
Their browes enobling with applause and lawrell.
Triumph and honor ay inuest your writ,
Ye fett your penns from wing of singing swanne,
VVhen sweetely warbling to her selfe she flotes
Adowne Meander streames, and like to Organ
Imparts into her quils melodious notes.

Ye from the father of delicious phrases,
Borrow such hymns as make your mistresse liue
VVhen time is dead, nay Hermes tunes the praises,
VVhich ye in sonnets to your mistresse giue.

Report throughout our westerne Isle doth ring,
The sweete tun'd accents of your Delian sonnetrie,
VVhich to Apollos violine ye sing,
Oh then your high straines drowne his melodie.

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Love Will Find Out the Way

Over the mountains
And over the waves,
Under the fountains
And under the graves;
Under floods that are deepest,
Which Neptune obey,
Over rocks that are steepest,
Love will find out the way.

When there is no place
For the glow-worm to lie,
When there is no space
For receipt of a fly;
When the midge dares not venture
Lest herself fast she lay,
If Love come, he will enter
And will find out the way.

You may esteem him
A child for his might;

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Jephthah Judge of Israel

Have you not heard these many years ago,
Jeptha was judge of Israel?
He had one only daughter and no mo,
The which he loved passing well.
And as by lott,
God wot,
It so came to pass,
As Gods will was,
That great wars there should be,
And none should be chosen chief but he.

And when he was appointed judge,
And chieftain of the company,
A solemn vow to God he made,
If he returned with victory,
At his return,
To burn
The first live thing,
****
That should meet with him then,

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Grendel

Then a powerful demon, a prowler through the dark,
nursed a hard grievance. It harrowed him
to hear the din of the loud banquet
every day in the hall, the harp being struck
and the clear songs of a skilled poet
telling the mastery of man's beginnings,
How the Almighty had made the earth
a gleaming plain girdled with waters;
in his splendour He set the sun and the moon
to be earth's lamplight, lanterns for men,
and filled the broad lap of the world
with branches and leaves; and quickened life
in every other thing that moved.

So times were pleasant for the people there
until finally one, a fiend out of hell,
began to work his evil in the world.
Grendel was the name of the grim demon
haunting the marches, marauding around the heath
and the desolate fens; he had dwelt for a time

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Corydon's Doleful Knell

My Phillida, adieu love!
For evermore farewel!
Ay me! I've lost my true love,
And thus I ring her knell,
Ding dong, ding dong, ding dong,
My Phillida is dead!
I'll stick a branch of willow
At my fair Phillis' head.

For my fair Phillida
Our bridal bed was made;
But 'stead of silkes so gay,
She in her shroud is laid.
Ding dong, ding dong, ding dong.

Her corpse shall be attended
By maides in fair array,
Till the obsequies are ended,
And she is wrapt in clay.
Ding dong, ding dong, ding dong.

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The Jolly Beggar II

THERE was a jolly beggar, and a begging he was bound,
And he took up his quarters into a landart town.
Fa la la, etc.
He wad neither ly in barn, nor yet wad he in byre,
But in ahint the ha-door, or else afore the fire.
The beggar’s bed was made at een wi good clean straw and hay,
And in ahint the ha-door, and there the beggar lay.
raise the goodman’s dochter, and for to bar the door,
And there she saw the beggar standin i the floor.
He took the lassie in his arms and to the bed he ran,
‘O hooly, hooly wi me, sir! ye’ll waken our goodman.’
The beggar was a cunnin loon, and neer a word he spake
Until he got his turn done, syne he began to crack.
‘Is there ony dogs into this town? maiden, tell me true.’
‘And what wad ye do wi them, my hinny and my dow?’
‘They’ll rive a’ my mealpocks, and do me meikle wrang.’
‘O dool for the doing o’t! are ye the poor man?’
Then she took up the mealpocks and flang them oer the wa:
‘The d--l gae wi the mealpocks, my maidenhead and a’!
‘I took ye for some gentleman, at least the Larid of Brodie;

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