The masts that were like the beaten gold, 45 Bent not on the heaving seas; But the sails, that were o' the taffetie, Fill'd not in the east land breeze.--
They had not sailed a league, a league, A league but barely three, 50 Until she espied his cloven foot, And she wept right bitterlie.
"O hold your tongue of your weeping," says he, "Of your weeping now let me be; I will show you how the lilies grow 55 On the banks of Italy."--
"O what hills are yon, yon pleasant hills, That the sun shines sweetly on?"-- "O yon are the hills of heaven," he said, "Where you will never win."-- 60
"O whaten a mountain is yon," she said, "All so dreary wi' frost and snow?"-- "O yon is the mountain of hell," he cried, "Where you and I will go."
And aye when she turn'd her round about, 65 Aye taller he seem'd for to be; Until that the tops o' that gallant ship Nae taller were than he.
The clouds grew dark, and the wind grew loud, And the levin fill'd her ee; 70 And waesome wail'd the snaw-white sprites Upon the gurlie sea.
He strack the tap-mast wi' his hand, The fore-mast wi' his knee; And he brake that gallant ship in twain, 75 And sank her in the sea.
From Buchan's _Ballads of the North of Scotland_, (i. 214.)
(See the preface to the last ballad but one.)
"O are ye my father, or are ye my mother? Or are ye my brother John? Or are ye James Herries, my first true love, Come back to Scotland again?"
"I am not your father, I am not your mother, 5 Nor am I your brother John; But I'm James Herries, your first true love, Come back to Scotland again."
"Awa', awa', ye former lovers, Had far awa' frae me; 10 For now I am another man's wife, Ye'll ne'er see joy o' me."
"Had I kent that ere I came here, I ne'er had come to thee; For I might hae married the king's daughter, 15 Sae fain she wou'd had me.
"I despised the crown o' gold, The yellow silk also; And I am come to my true love, But with me she'll not go." 20
"My husband he is a carpenter, Makes his bread on dry land, And I hae born him a young son,-- Wi' you I will not gang."
"You must forsake your dear husband, 25 Your little young son also, Wi' me to sail the raging seas, Where the stormy winds do blow."
"O what hae you to keep me wi', If I should with you go? 30 If I'd forsake my dear husband, My little young son also?"