Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland Volume XXIV Part 10

Pa.s.sions will range and pa.s.sions will change, And they leave no mortal in peace, There is nothing in man that to us seems strange That to pa.s.sion you may not trace.

The heart that will breathe the warmest love Is the first oft to cease its glow, The fairest flower in the forest grove Is often the first to dow.

A woman's eye is aye quick to see The love of a lover decay: And why from the trusty trysting tree Does Robin now stay away?

There are other trees in the wood as green, With as smooth a sward below, Where lovers may lie in the balmy e'en, And their love to each other show.

'Twas when the moon in an autumn night Threw shadows throughout the wood, She heard some sounds; and with footsteps light, Where no one could see, she stood.

She listened, and with an anxious ear, To know who these there might be: A youth was there with his mistress dear, And the youth was Robin-a-Ree.

Silent and gloomy she wandered home, And went to her bed apart, No softening tear to her eye would come, No sigh from her aching heart.

The balmy milk of a woman's breast Waxed curdled green and sour, And Mary Lee was by all confessed As changed from that fatal hour.

At times, when the moon gave little light, She sat by the Solway side, And thought, as she sat, of that happy night When he swore by the Solway tide.

Far sweeter to her the roaring wind, Than when it was solemn and low, For the waters he swore by seemed to her mind As resenting that broken vow.

Still darker and darker the cloud on her brow, Yet paler her tearless cheek; But no one her sorrow would ever know, Nor word would she ever speak.

'Tis the story old, old, so often told, To be told while time shall be, Fair Catherine, the heiress of Ravenswold, Is the wife of Robin-a-Ree.

III.

It was on an angry winter night, When Mary sat in her gloom, There came to her door an ill-doing wight--- Kildearn's drunken groom: He placed in her hand a gold-filled purse, And spoke of love's sacred flame; And well she knew the unholy source Whence the man and the money came.

"Awa and awa, thou crawling worm, On whom thy horse will tread Awa and awa, and tell Kildearn, I accept his n.o.ble meed."

She placed the purse in a cabinet old, And locked it right carefullie, "Lie there, lie there, thou ill-won gold.

Till needed thou shalt be."

IV.

The years roll on, nor Robin-a-Ree Can their onward progress stay, The years roll on, and children three, Have blessed his bridal day.

And Mary Lee is there to see, As she sat in her lonely home, Two of Kildearn's children three, Borne away to Kildearn's tomb.

But none of these years work change on her: As she seeks the lone greenwood, She sees a man lying bleeding there, While his horse beside him stood.

He called for help, where help there was none, Tho' Mary was standing near, Who spoke in a solemn eldritch tone, Words strange to the human ear:

"The hairy adder I dinna like, When I the fell creature meet, Neither like I the moon-baying tyke.

Nor the Meg-o'-moniefeet.

I canna thole the yellow-wamed ask, Sae fearful a thing to see; But mair than a', and ower them a', I hate fause Robin-a-Ree."

V.

Time puts in the sack that behind him hangs Of things both old and new, And every hour brings stranger things Than those we have bidden adieu.

The last one of those children three, Young Hector, Kildearn's pride, Has gone, in his childish mirth and glee, To play by the Solway tide.

That tide by which his father swore As true to the silvery queen-- That tide is breaking with sullen roar, And Hector no more is seen.

They may search, they may drag--the search is vain, No Hector they'll ever find; A lugger is yonder, away to the main, Borne on an eastern wind.

And there is a woman who stands in the bay, And she holds out both her hands, As if she would wave that lugger away To some of the distant lands.

And if you will trace her to her hold, Where a purse of gold was laid, You will find the drawer, but not the gold, For the purse and gold are fled.

VI.

Time flies, but sin breeds in-and-in, And a father's grief is stern; Robin is dead, and a distant kin Now calls himself Kildearn.

The moon's pale light falls on yonder tomb, By which sits a woman grey, And sings in the blast a revengeful doom, In a woman's weird way.

"Chirk! whutthroats in yon auld taff d.y.k.e, Hoot! grey owl in yon shaw, Howl out! ye auld moon-baying tyke, Ye winds mair keenly blaw, Till ye rouse to the rage o' a wintry storm The waves of the Solway sea, And wauken the brawnit connach worm On the grave o' Robin-a-Ree."

VII.

More years pa.s.sed on. Ho! near by the cove Is a s.h.i.+p with a pirate crew, All bound in honour and fear and love, To their captain, Hector Drew; Who looked through his gla.s.s at old Kildearn, As thoughts through his memory ran, And fain of that house he would something learn.

But he is an outlawed man.

Nor venture could he to come upon land, Except under cloud of night, And he and all his pirate band Lie hidden there out of sight; That he might plunder Kildearn House Of its gold and its jewelrie, Then away, and away, again to cruise Where rovers aye love to be.

But there is one who stands on the sh.o.r.e, Who knew that pirate hoy, Whose captain she bribed many years before To steal away Kildearn's boy.

She has sent the bloodhounds to the wood, They have seized them every loon, And sent them to answer for deeds of blood, To Edwin's old castled toun.

The Admiral High of old Scotland Has them tried for deeds so dark, And they are decreed by his high command To be hanged within high-water mark.

On the sands of Leith, as St. Giles struck two, And within the hem of the sea, There Captain Drew and all his crew Were hanged for piracie.

And so it is true that a woman's wile A man may with safety slight, At worst it may be but nature's guile To procure what is nature's right.

But a woman's wrath, if once inflamed By a sense of fond love betrayed, No cunning device by cunning framed Has ever that pa.s.sion laid.

THE BALLAD OF AGE AND YOUTH.

I left yon stately castle on the height, The ancient halls of lordly Ravenslee, Wherein was met, in grandeur all bedight, Of knights and dames a gallant companie; For I was in a misanthropic mood, And deemed that gay galaverie false and vain, And wished to lie or loiter in some wood, And give my fancy her unbridled rein.

I left them all in flush of pleasure's sport, Some knights with damoiselles gone forth to woo, Some listing gleemen in the ballion court, Some deep in ombre, some at lanterloo, Some gone a-hawking with the merlyon, Some at their noon-meat sipping Spanish wine, Some conning old romances on the lawn, And all to meet in hall at hour of dine.

II.

Down in Dalmossie dell I sought a nook Beneath a thick and widely-spreading tree, And there I sat to con my little book, My book of old black-letter grammarie.

All stillness in that deep and lonely dell Save hum of b.u.mble-bee on nimble wing, Or zephyr sporting round the wild blue bell, While fancy feigned some tiny tinkle-ring.

Lo! come from yonder sheiling by the burn An aged pair whom Time claimed as his own-- Their clothes all brown, and sere and sadly worn, But brushed and clean, and tentily put on.

I noted well the signs of their great eild, Their shrunken limbs, their locks of snowy hair, The wobbling walk, the bowing, bending bield, The wrinkled cheeks, and looks of dule and care.

I thought on hapless man--with changing face, Each day more furrowed as he wears along.

He looks into the gla.s.s to cry Alace!

Alace for that spring time that's past and gone!