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The poetical works of George MacDonald in two volumes — Volume 2
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And she spied her pearly kaim.
She twined up her hair wi' eager ban's,
And in wi' the rainbow kaim!
She's oot, and she's aff ower the shinin san's
And awa til her moanin hame!
The prince he startit whaur he lay,
He waukit, and was himlane!
He soucht far intil the mornin gray,
But his bonny sea-wife was gane!
And ever and aye, i' the mirk or the mune,
Whan the win' blew saft frae the sea,
The sad shore up and the sad shore doon
By the lanely rock paced he.
But never again on the sands to play
Cam the maids o' the merry, cauld sea;
He heard them lauch far oot i' the bay,
But hert-alane gaed he.
THE YERL O' WATERYDECK
The wind it blew, and the ship it flew,
And it was "Hey for hame!"
But up an' cried the skipper til his crew,
"Haud her oot ower the saut sea faem."
Syne up an' spak the angry king:
"Haud on for Dumferline!"
Quo' the skipper, "My lord, this maunna be—
I'm king on this boat o' mine!"
He tuik the helm intil his han',
He left the shore un'er the lee;
Syne croodit sail, an', east an' south,
Stude awa richt oot to sea.
Quo' the king, "Leise-majesty, I trow!
Here lies some ill-set plan!
'Bout ship!" Quo' the skipper, "Yer grace forgets
Ye are king but o' the lan'!"
Oot he heild to the open sea
Quhill the north wind flaughtered an' fell;
Syne the east had a bitter word to say
That waukent a watery hell.
He turnt her heid intil the north:
Quo' the nobles, "He s' droon, by the mass!"
Quo' the skipper, "Haud afif yer lady-ban's
Or ye'll never see the Bass."
The king creepit down the cabin-stair
To drink the gude French wine;
An' up cam his dochter, the princess fair,
An' luikit ower the brine.
She turnt her face to the drivin snaw,
To the snaw but and the weet;
It claucht her snood, an' awa like a dud
Her hair drave oot i' the sleet.
She turnt her face frae the drivin win'—
"Quhat's that aheid?" quo' she.
The skipper he threw himsel frae the win'
An' he brayt the helm alee.
"Put to yer han', my lady fair!
Haud up her heid!" quo' he;
"Gien she dinna face the win' a wee mair
It's faurweel to you an' me!"
To the tiller the lady she laid her han',
An' the ship brayt her cheek to the blast;
They joukit the berg, but her quarter scraped,
An' they luikit at ither aghast.
Quo' the skipper, "Ye are a lady fair,
An' a princess gran' to see,
But war ye a beggar, a man wud sail
To the hell i' yer company!"
She liftit a pale an' a queenly face,
Her een flashed, an' syne they swam:
"An' what for no to the hevin?" she says,
An' she turnt awa frae him.
Bot she tuik na her han' frae the gude ship's helm
Till the day begouth to daw;
An' the skipper he spak, but what was said
It was said atween them twa.
An' syne the gude ship she lay to,
Wi' Scotlan' hyne un'er the lee;
An' the king cam up the cabin-stair
Wi' wan face an' bluidshot ee.
Laigh loutit the skipper upo' the deck;
She twined up her hair wi' eager ban's,
And in wi' the rainbow kaim!
She's oot, and she's aff ower the shinin san's
And awa til her moanin hame!
The prince he startit whaur he lay,
He waukit, and was himlane!
He soucht far intil the mornin gray,
But his bonny sea-wife was gane!
And ever and aye, i' the mirk or the mune,
Whan the win' blew saft frae the sea,
The sad shore up and the sad shore doon
By the lanely rock paced he.
But never again on the sands to play
Cam the maids o' the merry, cauld sea;
He heard them lauch far oot i' the bay,
But hert-alane gaed he.
THE YERL O' WATERYDECK
The wind it blew, and the ship it flew,
And it was "Hey for hame!"
But up an' cried the skipper til his crew,
"Haud her oot ower the saut sea faem."
Syne up an' spak the angry king:
"Haud on for Dumferline!"
Quo' the skipper, "My lord, this maunna be—
I'm king on this boat o' mine!"
He tuik the helm intil his han',
He left the shore un'er the lee;
Syne croodit sail, an', east an' south,
Stude awa richt oot to sea.
Quo' the king, "Leise-majesty, I trow!
Here lies some ill-set plan!
'Bout ship!" Quo' the skipper, "Yer grace forgets
Ye are king but o' the lan'!"
Oot he heild to the open sea
Quhill the north wind flaughtered an' fell;
Syne the east had a bitter word to say
That waukent a watery hell.
He turnt her heid intil the north:
Quo' the nobles, "He s' droon, by the mass!"
Quo' the skipper, "Haud afif yer lady-ban's
Or ye'll never see the Bass."
The king creepit down the cabin-stair
To drink the gude French wine;
An' up cam his dochter, the princess fair,
An' luikit ower the brine.
She turnt her face to the drivin snaw,
To the snaw but and the weet;
It claucht her snood, an' awa like a dud
Her hair drave oot i' the sleet.
She turnt her face frae the drivin win'—
"Quhat's that aheid?" quo' she.
The skipper he threw himsel frae the win'
An' he brayt the helm alee.
"Put to yer han', my lady fair!
Haud up her heid!" quo' he;
"Gien she dinna face the win' a wee mair
It's faurweel to you an' me!"
To the tiller the lady she laid her han',
An' the ship brayt her cheek to the blast;
They joukit the berg, but her quarter scraped,
An' they luikit at ither aghast.
Quo' the skipper, "Ye are a lady fair,
An' a princess gran' to see,
But war ye a beggar, a man wud sail
To the hell i' yer company!"
She liftit a pale an' a queenly face,
Her een flashed, an' syne they swam:
"An' what for no to the hevin?" she says,
An' she turnt awa frae him.
Bot she tuik na her han' frae the gude ship's helm
Till the day begouth to daw;
An' the skipper he spak, but what was said
It was said atween them twa.
An' syne the gude ship she lay to,
Wi' Scotlan' hyne un'er the lee;
An' the king cam up the cabin-stair
Wi' wan face an' bluidshot ee.
Laigh loutit the skipper upo' the deck;
Другие электронные книги автора George MacDonald
Последний отзыв
Книгу прочитать не могу, везде ЛитРес свой нос сунул, как и где скачать полную версию бесплатно!?!?