"Oh, if I had a bonny ship,

And men to sail wi' me,

It's I would gang to my true Love,
Since he winna come to me!"

Then she's gar'd build a bonny boat,
To sail the salt, salt sea:

The sails were of the light-green silk,
And the ropes of taffetie.

She had not been on the sea sailing
About a month or more,

Till landed has she her bonny ship
Near to her true Love's door.

She's ta'en her young son in her arms,
And to the door she's gane;

And long she knocked, and sair she called,

But answer got she nane.

"Oh, open the door, Lord Gregory! Oh, open, and let me in!

For the wind blows through my yellow hair, And the rain drops o'er my chin."

Long stood she at Lord Gregory's door,

And long she tirled the pin;

At length up gat his false mother,

Says, "Who's that, would be in?"

"Oh, it's Annie of Lochroyan,

Your Love, come o'er the sea,

THE LASS OF LOCHROYAN

But and your young son in her arms;
So open the door to me."

"Away, away, ye ill woman!

You're not come here for gude; You're but a witch, or a vile warlock, Or a mermaid o' the flood."

"I'm no a witch, nor vile warlock,
Nor mermaiden," said she ;
"But I am Annie of Lochroyan, –
Oh, open the door to me!"

"If thou be Annie of Lochroyan, (As I trow ye binna she),

Now tell me some of the love-tokens

That passed 'tween me and thee."

"Oh, dinna ye mind, Lord Gregory,

As we sat at the wine,

135

How we changed the rings from our fingers, And I can show thee thine ?

"Oh, yours was good, and good enough,
But not so good as mine;

For yours was o' the good red gold,
But mine of the diamond fine.

"So open the door, Lord Gregory,
And open it with speed;

Or your young son that's in my arms
For cold will soon be dead."

"Away, away, ye ill woman!

Go from my

door for shame!

For I have gotten another Love,
So you may hie you hame."

Fair Annie turned her round about;

"Well! since that it be sae,

May never a woman, that has borne a son,
Have a heart so full of wae!

"Take down, take down, the mast of gold, up the mast o' tree;

Set

It ill becomes a forsaken lady

To sail so gallantlie."

Lord Gregory started from his sleep,

And to his mother did say,

"I dreamt a dream, this night, mother, That makes my heart right wae.

"I dreamt that Annie of Lochroyan,
The flower of all her kin,
E'en now was standing at my door,
But none would let her in."

"Oh, there was a woman stood at the door, With a bairn intill her arm;

But I could not let her come within,
For fear she had done you harm."

"O wae betide ye, ill woman! An ill death may ye dee,

THE LASS OF LOCHROYAN

That wadna open the door to her,
Nor yet would waken me!'

Oh, he's gone down to yon shore side
As fast as he could fare;

He saw fair Annie in the boat,

But the wind it tossed her sair.

And "Hey, Annie!" and "How, Annie!
O Annie, winna ye bide?"

But aye the mair he cried "Annie,"
The broader grew the tide.

And "Hey, Annie!" and "How, Annie!

O Annie, speak to me!"

But aye

the louder he cried "Annie,"

The louder roared the sea.

The wind blew loud, the sea grew rough,

And the ship was rent in twain : And soon he saw his fair Annie Come floating o'er the main.

He saw his young son in her arms,
Both tossed above the tide ;

He wrang his hands, and fast he ran
And plunged in the sea sae wide.

He catched her by the yellow hair,
And drew her up on the sand;
But cold and stiff was every limb
Before he reached the land.

137

And then he kissed her on the cheek,

And kissed her on the chin;
And sair he kissed her on the lips:

But there was no breath within.

"Oh, wae betide my cruel mother! An ill death may she dee!

She turned fair Annie from my door,

Wha died for love of me e!"

Unknown.

TO LUCASTA, ON GOING TO THE WARS

TELL me not (sweet) I am unkind,
That from the nunnery

Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind
To war and arms I fly.

True, a new mistress now I chase,
The first foe in the field;

And with a stronger faith embrace
A sword, a horse, a shield.

Yet this inconstancy is such,
As you, too, shall adore ;

I could not love thee, dear, so much,
Loved I not honor more.

Richard Lovelace.

SONG

UNDER the greenwood tree

Who loves to lie with me,