O Helen fair! O Helen chaste! If I were with thee, I were blest, Where thou lies low, and takes thy rest, On fair Kirkconnel Lee.
I wish my grave were growing green, A winding-sheet drawn ower my een, And I in Helen’s arms lying, On fair Kirkconnel Lee.
I wish I were where Helen lies! Night and day on me she cries, And I am weary of the skies, For her sake that died for me.
Unknown.
[ TO ALTHEA FROM PRISON]
When Love with unconfinèd wings Hovers within my gates; And my divine Althea brings To whisper at the grates: When I lie tangled in her hair, And fetter’d to her eye; The Gods that wanton in the air, Know no such liberty.
When flowing cups run swiftly round With no allaying Thames, Our careless heads with roses bound, Our hearts with loyal flames; When thirsty grief in wine we steep, When healths and draughts go free, Fishes that tipple in the deep, Know no such liberty.
When, like committed linnets, I With shriller throat shall sing The sweetness, mercy, majesty, And glories of my King; When I shall voice aloud, how good He is, how great should be; Enlargèd winds that curl the flood, Know no such liberty.
