She kissed him where his brow was marked
With the bitter brand of dole—
“Herluin, oh Herluin!
God’s peace upon thy soul!
“Now lay thee down, oh Herluin,
And sleep i’ the kindly mould—
He rests full well whose heart is still,
Whose burning brow is cold.
“And sleep thou sound, oh Herluin,
Amid the song o’ the stream!
For I have heard a secret word
From an angel, in a dream.
“And I swear to thee by the ring of gold,
And I swear by cross and pall,
And I swear to thee by my broken heart,
That love is lord of all.”
This is the rime of Sir Herluin,
Who sleeps where he lay and died—
With a whin at his head, and a whin at his feet,
And the lean sand for a winding-sheet,
And a mourning pine beside.
BOTHWELL’S SOOTHSAYING
Oh, the goodwives they go out and in,
And gossip beside the well;
But the witless wife, she fares alone,
With never a tale to tell.
Oh, the goodwives go to the holy kirk,
And bow their knees to pray;
But the witless wife, she steeks her door,
And keeps no holy-day.
Oh, the lasses and lads run up and down,
Their gleeful games to tread,
And they fleer and flout at the witless wife
That goes with a shaking head.
But when she turns on them, lasses and lads,
They take to their heels and flee,
For they fear the curse of the witless wife
And the look of her blinking e’e.