| |
| ABOUT Glenkindie and his man | |
| A false ballant hath long been writ; | |
| Some bootless loon had written it, | |
| Upon a bootless plan: | |
| But I have found the true at last, | 5 |
| And here it is,—so hold it fast! | |
| ’T was made by a kind damosel | |
| Who lov’d him and his man right well. | |
| |
| Glenkindie, best of harpers, came | |
| Unbidden to our town; | 10 |
| And he was sad, and sad to see, | |
| For love had worn him down. | |
| |
| It was love, as all men know, | |
| The love that brought him down, | |
| The hopeless love for the King’s daughter, | 15 |
| The dove that heir’d a crown. | |
| |
| Now he wore not that collar of gold, | |
| His dress was forest green; | |
| His wondrous fair and rich mantel | |
| Had lost its silvery sheen. | 20 |
| |
| But still by his side walk’d Rafe, his boy. | |
| In goodly cramoisie: | |
| Of all the boys that ever I saw | |
| The goodliest boy was he. | |
| |
| O Rafe the page! O Rafe the page! | 25 |
| Ye stole the heart frae me: | |
| O Rafe the page! O Rafe the page! | |
| I wonder where ye be: | |
| We ne’er may see Glenkindie more, | |
| But may we never see thee? | 30 |
| |
| Glenkindie came within the hall; | |
| We set him on the dais, | |
| And gave him bread, and gave him wine, | |
| The best in all the place. | |
| |
| We set for him the guests’ high chair, | 35 |
| And spread the naperie: | |
| Our Dame herself would serve for him, | |
| And I for Rafe, perdie! | |
| |
| But down he sat on a low low stool, | |
| And thrust his long legs out, | 40 |
| And lean’d his back to the high chair, | |
| And turn’d his harp about. | |
| |
| He turn’d it round, he strok’d the strings, | |
| He touch’d each tirling-pin, | |
| He put his mouth to the sounding-board | 45 |
| And breath’d his breath therein. | |
| |
| And Rafe sat over against his face, | |
| And look’d at him wistfullie: | |
| I almost grat ere he began, | |
| They were so sad to see. | 50 |
| |
| The very first stroke he strack that day, | |
| We all came crowding near; | |
| And the second stroke he strack that day, | |
| We all were smit with fear. | |
| |
| The third stroke that he strack that day, | 55 |
| Full fain we were to cry; | |
| The fourth stroke that he strack that day, | |
| We thought that we would die. | |
| |
| No tongue can tell how sweet it was, | |
| How far, and yet how near: | 60 |
| We saw the saints in Paradise, | |
| And bairnies on their bier. | |
| |
| And our sweet Dame saw her good lord— | |
| She told me privilie: | |
| She saw him as she saw him last, | 65 |
| On his ship upon the sea. | |
| |
| Anon he laid his little harp by, | |
| He shut his wondrous eyes; | |
| We stood a long time like dumb things, | |
| Stood in a dumb surprise. | 70 |
| |
| Then all at once we left that trance, | |
| And shouted where we stood; | |
| We clasp’d each other’s hands and vow’d | |
| We would be wise and good. | |
| |
| Soon he rose up and Rafe rose too, | 75 |
| He drank wine and broke bread; | |
| He clasp’d hands with our trembling Dame, | |
| But never a word he said; | |
| They went,—Alack and lack-a-day! | |
| They went the way they came. | 80 |
| |
| I follow’d them all down the floor, | |
| And O but I had drouth | |
| To touch his cheek, to touch his hand, | |
| To kiss Rafe’s velvet mouth! | |
| |
| But I knew such was not for me. | 85 |
| They went straight from the door; | |
| We saw them fade within the mist, | |
| And never saw them more. | |
| |
