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Anonymous ( Неизвестный автор) Carlisle Yetts WHITE was the rose in his gay bonnet, As he faulded me in his broached plaidie, His hand whilk clasped the truth luve, O it was ay in battle ready! His long, long hair in yellow hanks Waved o’er his cheeks sae sweet and ruddie; But now they wave o’er Carlisle yetts In dripping ringlets clotting bloodie. My father’s blood ’s in that flower-tap, My brother’s in that hare-bell’s blossom, This white rose was steeped in my luve’s blood, An’ I ’ll ay wear it in my bosom. * * * * * When I came first by merry Carlisle, Was ne’er a town sae sweetly seeming; The White Rose flaunted owre the wall, The thristled banners far were streaming! When I came next by merry Carlisle, O sad, sad seemed the town an’ eerie! The auld, auld men came out an’ wept, “O maiden, come ye to seek yere dearie?” * * * * * There ’s ae drop o’ blude atween my breasts, An’ twa in my links o’ hair sae yellow; The tane I ’ll ne’er wash, an’ the tither ne’er kame, But I ’ll sit an’ pray aneath the willow. Wae, wae upon that cruel heart, Wae, wae upon that hand sae bloodie, Which feasts in our richest Scottish blude, An’ makes sae mony a doleful widow. Anonymous's other poems: Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1214 |
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