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Gordon of Brackley Down Deeside cam Inveraye Whistlin' and playing, An' called loud at Brackley gate Ere the day dawning-- 'Come, Gordon of Brackley. Proud Gordon, come down, There's a sword at your threshold Mair sharp than your own.' 'Arise now, gay Gordon,' His lady 'gan cry, 'Look, here is bold Inveraye Driving your kye.' 'How can I go, lady, An' win them again, When I have but ae sword, And Inveraye ten?' 'Arise up, my maidens, Wi' roke and wi' fan, How blest had I been Had I married a man! Arise up, my maidens, Tak' spear and tak' sword, Go milk the ewes, Gordon, An' I will be lord.' The Gordon sprung up Wi' his helm on his head, Laid his hand on his sword, An' his thigh on his steed, An' he stooped low, and said, As he kissed his young dame, 'There's a Gordon rides out That will never ride hame.' There rode with fierce Inveraye Thirty and three, But wi' Brackley were nane But his brother and he; Twa gallanter Gordons Did never blade draw, But against three-and-thirty Wae's me! what are twa? Wi' sword and wi' dagger They rushed on him rude; The twa gallant Gordons Lie bathed in their blude. Frae the springs o' the Dee To the mouth o' the Tay, The Gordons mourn for him, And curse Inveraye. 'O were ye at Brackley? An' what saw ye there? Was his young widow weeping An' tearing her hair?' 'I looked in at Brackley, I looked in, and oh! There was mirth, there was feasting, But naething o' woe. 'As a rose bloomed the lady, An' blithe as a bride, As a bridegroom bold Inveraye Smiled by her side. Oh! she feasted him there As she ne'er feasted lord, While the blood of her husband Was moist on his sword. 'In her chamber she kept him Till morning grew gray, Thro' the dark woods of Brackley She shewed him the way. 'Yon wild hill,' she said, 'Where the sun's shining on, Is the hill of Glentanner,-- One kiss, and begone!'' There's grief in the cottage, There's grief in the ha', For the gude, gallant Gordon That's dead an' awa'. To the bush comes the bud, An' the flower to the plain, But the gude and the brave They come never again. Andrew Lang's other poems: Poems of another poets with the same name (Стихотворения других поэтов с таким же названием): Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1211 |
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Английская поэзия. Адрес для связи eng-poetry.ru@yandex.ru |