May of the Moril Glen
Part I
I will tell you of ane wondrous tale,
As ever was told by man,
Or ever was sung by minstrel meet
Since this base world began:—
It is of ane May, and ane lovely May,
That dwelt in the Moril Glen,
The fairest flower of mortal frame,
But a devil amongst the men;
For nine of them sticket themselves for love,
And ten leaped in the main,
And seven-and-thirty brake their hearts,
And never loved women again.
But this bonnie May, she never knew
A father’s kindly claim;
She never was blessed in holy Church,
Nor christened in holy name.
But there she lived an earthly flower
Of beauty so supreme,
Some feared she was of the Mermaid’s brood,
Come out of the salt sea faeme.
Some said she was found in a Fairy Ring,
And born of the Fairy Queen;
For there was a rainbow behind the moon
That night she first was seen.
And no man could look on her face
And eyne that beamed so dear
But felt a sting go through his heart,
Far sharper than a spear.
So that around the Moril Glen
Our brave young men did lie,
With limbs as lydder and as lithe
As duddis hung out to dry.
And aye the tears ran down in streams
O’er cheeks right woe-begone;
And aye they gasped, and they gratte,
And thus made piteous moan:—
“Alack! that I had ever been born,
Or dandelit on the knee;
Or rockit in ane cradle bed,
Beneath a mother’s e’e!
“For love is like the fiery flame
That quivers through the rain,
And love is like the pang of death
That splits the heart in twain.
“If I had loved earthly thing
Of earthly blithesomeness,
I might have been beloved again,
And bathed in earthly bliss.
“But I have loved ane freakish Fay
Of frowardness and sin,
With heavenly beauty on the face,
And heart of stone within!”