Аллен Каннингем (Allan Cunningham)

Gordon of Brackley

DOWN Dee side came Inveraye,
  Whistling and playing;
And called loud at Brackley gate,
  Ere the day dawing,
“Come, Gordon of Brackley,
  Proud Gordon, come down;
A sword ’s at your threshold,
  Mair sharp than your own.”

“Arise now, gay Gordon,”
  His lady gan cry;
“Look, there is bold Inveraye
  Driving your kye.”
“How can I go, ladye,
  To win them agen?
I have but ae sword,
  And rude Inveraye ten.”

“Arise, all my maidens,
  With roke and with fan;
How blest had I been
  Had I married a man!
Arise, all my maidens,
  Take buckler and sword;
Go milk the ewes, Gordon,
  And I shall be lord.”

The Gordon sprang up,
  Put his helm on his head;
Laid his hand on his sword,
  And his thigh on his steed,
And stooped low and said,
  As he kissed his young dame,
“There ’s a Gordon rides out
  That will never ride hame.”

Wi’ sword and wi’ dagger
  He rushed on him rude;
And the gay gallant Gordon
  Lies bathed in his blude.
Frae the sources of Dee
  To the mouth of the Spey,
The Highlanders mourn for him
  And curse Inveraye.

“O, came ye by Brackley,
  And what saw ye there?
Was his young widow weeping
  And tearing her hair?”
“I came in by Brackley,
  I came in, and O,
There was mirth, there was feasting,
  But nothing of woe.

“As a rose bloomed the lady,
  And blithe as a bride;
Like a bridegroom bold Inveraye
  Smiled at her side.
And she feasted him there,
  As she ne’er feasted lord,
Though the blood of her husband
  Was moist on his sword.”

There ’s grief in the cottage
  And tears in the ha’,
For the gay gallant Gordon
  That ’s dead and awa’.
To the bush comes the bud,
  And the flower to the plain,
But the good and the brave,
  They come never again.

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