Читать книгу Story-Telling Ballads - Various - Страница 17

It was by cock-crowing the morn,

When Meg wi’ crippled feet,

Like one that had a long way walked

Came in, her sire to greet.

“Grant me another day,” she cried,

“For young Willie Scott his life;

And throw not by the chance, your Meg

Has to become a wife.”

Sir Gideon rubbed his hands in glee,

“I grant it for your sake;

But if he then refuse your hand,

He shall his own way take.”

Much wondered the Laird o’ Oakwood Tower,

As fell the evening gloom,

They did not hang him in the morn,

As he had heard his doom.

He heard the sentry shoot the bolt,

And a kind o’ murmuring;

And then his mother and sisters two

Wi’ loud outcries break in.

And, “O my Son!” the mother cried,

“Is there no other way,

To save thee from a cruel death,

At the hands o’ a fierce Murray?

“Marry his daughter, Willie dear,

And save thy mother’s life;

Tho’ she be ugly—what of that?

She’ll make a frugal wife.”

“Mother, I will not take his terms.

Who brought ye here?” he said.

“Who, but your messenger so good,

That kind and sonsy maid.”

They passed the time in grief and woe,

Throughout the dead of night;

Nor ever they ceased to weep wi’ him,

Until the morning’s light.

The loud horn blew out o’er the lea,

Sir Gideon stood him before;

“What is thy choice, young man?” he cried,

“Or ere this deed be o’er.”

“The gallows still before the wife,”

Young Harden stoutly said.

“And wi’ the hemp around my throat,

I’ll spit on the ground ye tread.”

They led him forth to the gallows-tree;

When he saw that maiden there,

Who at her risk, unto his mother

Carried his last letter;

The thoughts o’ the gallows could not stir

The heart o’ that dauntless Chief,

But the weeping look of that young girl,

It pierced his soul wi’ grief.

And while the tear hung in her eye,

He took her lily hand;

And said, “Thy heart is far too meek,

For such a ruffian band.

“Hear me, Murray, speak my mind,

I care not for thy word,

I’d rather marry this poor maiden,

If should my life be spared,

“Then ever I’d wed thy daughter Meg.”—

Sir Gideon clapped his hand;

“A bargain! I take thee at thy word,

Young Scott where dost thou stand.”

They buckled them in holy bonds,

The priest he prayed the while;

And when the marriage knot was tied,

Sir Gideon blithe did smile.

His mother fell upon his neck,

“God bless my bairn, he’s free!

And bless the bonny lassie yet,

Who brought the word to me!”

“I give thee a father’s blessing, sir,”

The Murray blithely cried;

“For what?”—The lassie modest said,

“Meikle-Mouthed Meg’s your bride.”

Oh! then sore shame fell on the Scott,

And tears came in his eyes;

“And is my bride the scorned Meg,

That I did so despise?

“Let no man hate what he’s not seen,

The shame on me doth lay:—

I rose this morning for my death,

And it ends in my bridal day!”

(Englished. Condensed)