For de good Talbot is made a lord, Lilli, &c. And with brave lads is coming aboard: Lilli, &c. Who all in France have taken a sware, Dat dey will have no protestant heir. Ara! but why does he stay behind? Ho! by my shoul 'tis a protestant wind. But see de Tyrconnel is now come ashore, And we shall have commissions gillore. Lilli, &c. And he dat will not go to de mass, Lilli, &c. Shall be turn out, and look like an ass. Lilli, &c. Now, now de hereticks all go down, Lilli, &c. By Chrish and shaint Patrick, de nation's our own. Lilli, &c. Dare was an old prophesy found in a bog, Lilli, &c. Ireland shall be rul'd by an ass, and a dog.' 45 Lilli, &c. Ver. 43, What follows is not in some copies. And now dis prophesy is come to pass, Lilli, &c. For Talbot's de dog, and JA**s is de ass. Lilli, &c. The foregoing song is attributed to Lord Wharton in a small pamphlet, intitled, A true relation of the several facts and circumstances of the intended riot and tumult on Q. Elizabeth's birth-day &c,' 3d. ed. Lond. 1712, pr. 2d.— See p. 5, viz.-A late Viceroy [of Ireland,] who has so often boasted himself upon his talent for mischief, invention, lying, and for making a certain Lilliburlero song; with which, if you will believe himself, he sung a deluded Prince out of Three Kingdoms.' XXIV. THE BRAES OF YARROW, IN IMITATION OF THE ANCIENT SCOTS MANNER, -was written by William Hamilton, of Bangour, Esq; who died March 25, 1754, aged 50. It is printed from an elegant edition of his Poems published at Edinburgh, 1760, 12mo. This song was written in imitation of an old Scottish ballad on a similar subject, with the same burden to each stanza.1 A. BUSK ye, busk ye, my bonny bonny bride, Busk ye, busk ye, my winsome marrow, And think nae mair on the Braes of Yarrow. B. Where gat ye that bonny bonny bride? Puing the birks on the Braes of Yarrow. Weep not, weep not, my bonny bonny bride, Puing the birks on the Braes of Yarrow. 5 10 1 Wordsworth, in his exquisite 'Yarrow Unvisited,' quotes this Ballad.—ED. B. Why does she weep, thy bonny bonny bride? Puing the birks on the Braes of Yarrow? 15 A. Lang maun she weep, lang maun she, maun she weep, Lang maun she weep with dule and sorrow; 20 For she has tint her luver, luver dear, Her luver dear, the cause of sorrow; That eir pu'd birks on the Braes of Yarrow. Why rins thy stream, O Yarrow, Yarrow, reid? 25 Hung on the bonny birks of Yarrow? What's yonder floats on the rueful rueful flude? O'tis he the comely swain I slew Upon the duleful Braes of Yarrow. Wash, O wash his wounds, his wounds in tears, And lay him on the Braes of Yarrow. Then build, then build, ye sisters, sisters sad, And weep around in waeful wise His hapless fate on the Braes of Yarrow. 30 35 40 Curse ye, curse ye, his useless, useless shield, His comely breast on the Braes of Yarrow. Did I not warn thee, not to, not to luve? And warn from fight? but to my sorrow Too rashly bauld a stronger arm 45 Thou mett'st, and fell'st on the Braes of Yarrow. Sweet smells the birk, green grows, green grows the grass, Yellow on Yarrow's bank the gowan, Fair hangs the apple frae the rock, Sweet the wave of Yarrow flowan. 50 Flows Yarrow sweet? as sweet, as sweet flows As green its grass, its gowan as yellow, Fair was thy luve, fair fair indeed thy luve, Busk ye, then, busk, my bonny bonny bride, And think nae mair on the Braes of Yarrow. C. How can I busk a bonny bonny bride, 55 60 65 How luve him upon the banks of Tweed, That slew my luve on the Braes of Yarrow? O Yarrow fields, may never never rain, The boy put on his robes, his robes of green, 70 75 The boy took out his milk-white, milk-white steed, Unheedful of my dule and sorrow: But ere the toofall of the night He lay a corps on the Braes of Yarrow. Much I rejoyc'd that waeful waeful day; I sang, my voice the woods returning: 80 What can my barbarous barbarous father do, 85 My luver's blood is on thy spear, How canst thou, barbarous man, then wooe me? My happy sisters may be, may be proud With cruel, and ungentle scoffin', May bid me seek on Yarrow's Braes My brother Douglas may upbraid, upbraid, And strive with threatning words to muve me: 90 |