Northumberland Yesterday And To Day, Jean F. Terry [learn to read activity book .txt] 📗

And She The Fair Flower Of Northumberland.

 

  Then She Sat Down Full Heavily,

  (Follow, My Love, Come Over The Strand)

  At Length Two Knights Came Riding By,

  And She The Fair Flower Of Northumberland.

 

  Two Gallant Knights Of Fair England,

  (Follow, My Love, Come Over The Strand)

  And There They Found Her On The Strand,

  Even She The Fair Flower Of Northumberland.

 

  She Fell Down Humbly On Her Knee,

  (Follow, My Love, Come Over The Strand)

  Crying, "Courteous Knights, Take Pity On Me,

  Even I The Fair Flower Of Northumberland.

 

  "I Have Offended My Father Dear,

  (Follow, My Love, Come Over The Strand)

  For A False Knight That Brought Me Here,

  Even I The Fair Flower Of Northumberland."

 

  They Took Her Up Beside Them Then,

  (Follow, My Love, Come Over The Strand)

  And Brought Her To Her Father Again,

  And She The Fair Flower Of Northumberland.

 

  Now All You Fair Maids, Be Warned By Me,

  (Follow, My Love, Come Over The Strand)

  Scots Never Were True, Nor Ever Will Be,

  To Lord, Nor Lady, Nor Fair England.

 

 

 

 

 

  Whittingham Fair.

 

  Are You Going To Whittingham Fair

  (Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, And Thyme),

  Remember Me To One That Lives There,

  For Once She Was A True Lover Of Mine.

 

  Tell Her To Make Me A Cambric Shirt,

  (Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, And Thyme),

  Without Any Seam Or Needlework,

  Then She Shall Be A True Lover Of Mine.

 

  Tell Her To Wash It In Yonder Well,

  (Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, And Thyme),

  Where Never Spring Water Or Rain Ever Fell,

  And She Shall Be A True Lover Of Mine.

 

  Tell Her To Dry It On Yonder Thorn,

  (Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, And Thyme),

  Which Never Bore Blossom Since Adam Was Born.

  Then She Shall Be A True Lover Of Mine.

 

  Now He Has Asked Me Questions Three,

  (Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, And Thyme),

  I Hope He'll Answer As Many For Me,

  Before He Shall Be A True Lover Of Mine.

 

  Tell Him To Buy Me An Acre Of Land,

  (Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, And Thyme),

  Betwixt The Salt Water And The Sea Sand,

  Then He Shall Be A True Lover Of Mine.

 

  Tell Him To Plough It With A Ram's Horn.

  (Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, And Thyme),

  And Sow It All Over With One Pepper Corn.

  And He Shall Be A True Lover Of Mine.

 

  Tell Him To Shear't With A Sickle Of Leather,

  (Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, And Thyme),

  And Bind It Up With A Peacock Feather,

  And He Shall Be A True Lover Of Mine.

 

  Tell Him To Thrash It On Yonder Wall,

  (Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, And Thyme),

  And Never Let One Corn Of It Fall,

  Then He Shall Be A True Lover Of Mine.

 

  When He Has Done And Finished His Work,

  (Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, And Thyme),

  O Tell Him To Come And He'll Have His Shirt,

  And He Shall Be A True Lover Of Mine.

 

 

 

 

  O The Oak And The Ash.

 

 

  A North Country Mayde Up To London Had Strayed,

  Although With Her Nature It Did Not Agree.

  Which Made Her Repent, And Often Lament,

  Still Wishing Again In The North For To Be.

    "O The Oak And The Ash And The Bonny Ivy Tree,

    They Are All Growing Green In My North Countrie!"

 

  "O Fain Wad I Be In The North Countrie

  Where The Lads And The Lasses Are All Making Hay;

  O There Wad I See What Is Pleasant To Me,--

  A Mischief 'Light On Them Enticed Me Away!

    O The Oak And The Ash And The Bonny Ivy Tree,

    They Are All Growing Green In My North Countrie!"

 

  "Then Farewell My Father, And Farewell My Mother,

  Until I Do See You I Nothing But Mourn;

  Remembering My Brothers, My Sisters, And Others--

  In Less Than A Year I Hope To Return.

    O The Oak And The Ash And The Bonny Ivy Tree.

    They Are All Growing Green In My North Countrie!"

 

 

 

 

  Sair Feyl'd, Hinny!

 

 

     "Sair Feyl'd, Hinny!

      Sair Feyl'd Now,

      Sair Feyl'd, Hinny,

      Sin' Aw Ken'd Thou.

  Aw Was Young And Lusty,

  Aw Was Fair And Clear;

  Aw Was Young And Lusty

  Mony A Lang Year.

      Sair Feyl'd, Hinny!

      Sair Feyl'd Now;

      Sair Feyl'd, Hinny,

      Sin' Aw Ken'd Thou.

 

  "When Aw Was Young And Lusty

  Aw Cud Lowp U Dyke;

  But Now Aw'm Aud And Still.

  Aw Can Hardly Stop A Syke.

      Sair Feyl'd, Hinny!

      Sair Feyl'd Now,

      Sair Feyl'd Hinny,

      Sin' Aw Ken'd Thou.

 

  "When Aw Was Five And Twenty

  Aw Was Brave An Bauld.

  Now At Five An' Sixty

  Aw'm Byeth Stiff An' Cauld.

      Sair Feyl'd, Hinny!

      Sair Feyl'd Now.

      Sair Feyl'd, Hinny,

      Sin' Aw Ken'd Thou"

 

  Thus Said The Aud Man

  To The Oak Tree;

  "Sair Feyl'd Is Aw

  Sin' Aw Kenn'd Thee!

      Sair Feyl'd, Hinny!

      Sair Feyl'd Now;

      Sair Feyl'd, Hinny,

      Sin' Aw Ken'd Thou."

 

 

 

 

  Aw Wish Yoe Muther Wad Cum!

 

 

  "Cum, Geordy, Haud The Bairn,

  Aw's Sure Aw'll Not Stop Lang,

  Aw'd Tyek The Jewl Me-Sel,

  But Really Aw's Not Strang.

  Thor's Flooer And Coals Te Get,

  The Hoose-Torns Thor Not Deun,

  So Haud The Bairn For Fairs,

  Ye're Often Deun'd For Fun!"

 

  Then Geordy Held The Bairn,

  But Sair Agyen His Will,

  The Poor Bit Thing Wes Gud,

  But Geordy Had Ne Skill,

  He Haddint Its Muther's Ways,

  He Sat Both Stiff An' Num,--

  Before Five Minutes Wes Past

  He Wished Its Muther Wad Cum!

 

  His Wife Had Scarcely Gyen,

  The Bairn Begun Te Squall,

  Wi' Hikin't Up An' Doon

  He'd Let The Poor Thing Fall,

  It Waddent Haud Its Tung,

  Tho' Sum Aud Teun He'd Hum,--

  'Jack An' Gill Went Up A Hill'--

  "Aw Wish Yor Muther Wad Cum!"

 

  "What Weary Toil," Says He,

  "This Nursin Bairns Mun Be,

  A Bit On't's Weel Eneuf,

  Ay, Quite Eneuf For Me;

  Te Keep A Crying Bairn,

  It May Be Grand Te Sum,

  A Day's Wark's Not As Bad--

  Aw Wish Yor Muther Wad Cum.

 

  "Men Seldom Give A Thowt

  Te What Thor Wives Indure,

  Aw Thowt She'd Nowt Te De

  But Clean The Hoose, Aw's Sure.

  Or Myek Me Dinner An' Tea--

  It's Startin' Te Chow Its Thumb,

  The Poor Thing Wants Its Tit,

  Aw Wish Yor Muther Wad Cum."

 

  'What A Selfish World This Is,

  Thor's Nowt Mair Se Than Man;

  He Laffs At Wummin's Toil,

  And Winnet Nurse His Awn;--

  It's Startin' Te Cry Agyen,

  Aw See Tuts Throo Its Gum,

  Maw Little Bit Pet, Dinnet Fret,--

  Aw Wish Yor Muther Wad Cum.

 

  "But Kindness Dis A Vast.

  It's Ne Use Gettin' Vext.

  It Winnet Please The Bairn,

  Or Ease A Mind Perplext.

  At Last--Its Gyen Te Sleep,

  Me Wife'll Not Say Aw's Num,

  She'll Think Aw's A Real Gud Norse,

  Aw Wish Yor Muther Wud Cum!"

 

  _Joe Wilson_

 

 

 

 

  The Auld Fisher's Last Wish

 

 

  The Morn Is Grey, And Green The Brae, The Wind Is Frae The Wast

  Before The Gale The Snaw-White Clouds Are Drivin' Light And Fast;

  The Airly Sun Is Glintin' Forth, Owre Hill, And Dell, And Plain,

  And Coquet's Streams Are Glitterin', As They Run Frae Muir To Main.

 

  At Dewshill Wood The Mavis Sings Beside Her Birken Nest,

  At Halystane The Laverock Springs Upon His Breezy Quest;

  Wi' Eydent E'e, Aboon The Craigs, The Gled Is High In Air,

  Beneath Brent Brinkburn's Shadowed Cliff The Fox Lies In His Lair.

 

  There's Joy At Merry Thristlehaugh Tie New-Mown Hay To Win;

  The Busy Bees At Todstead-Shaw Are Bringing Honey In;

  The Trouts They Loup In Ilka Stream, The Birds On Ilka Tree;

  Auld Coquet-Side Is Coquet Still--But There's Nae Place For Me!

 

  My Sun Is Set, My Eyne Are Wet, Cauld Poortith Now Is Mine;

  Nae Mair I'll Range By Coquet-Side And Thraw The Gleesome Line;

  Nae Mair I'll See Her Bonnie Stream In Spring-Bright Raiment Drest,

  Save In The Dream That Stirs The Heart When The Weary E'e's At Rest.

 

  Oh! Were My Limbs As Ance They Were, To Jink Across The Green.

  And Were My Heart As Light Again As Sometime It Has Been,

  And Could My Fortunes Blink Again As Erst When Youth Was Sweet,

  Then Coquet--Hap What Might Beside--We'd No Be Lang To Meet'

 

  Or Had I But The Cushat's Wing, Where'er I List To Flee,

  And Wi' A Wish, Might Wend My Way Owre Hill, And Dale, And Lea.

  'Tis There I'd Fauld That Weary Wing, There Gaze My Latest Gaze.

  Content To See Thee Ance Again--Then Sleep Beside Thy Braes!

 

  --_Thomas Doublerday_.

 

 

 

 

  A Sonnet.

 

 

  Go, Take Thine Angle, And With Practised Line.

    Light As The Gossamer, The Current Sweep;

    And If Thou Failest In The Calm, Still Deep,

  In The Rough Eddy May A Prize Be Thine.

  Say Thou'rt Unlucky Where The Sunbeams Shine;

    Beneath The Shadow, Where The Waters Creep

    Perchance The Monarch Of The Brook Shall Leap--

  For Fate Is Ever Better Than Design.

 

  Still Persevere; The Giddiest Breeze That Blows,

    For Thee May Blow With Fame And Fortune Rife.

  Be Prosperous; And What Reck If It Arose

    Out Of Some Pebble With The Stream At Strife,

  Or That The Light Wind Dallied With The Boughs?

    Thou Art Successful.--Such Is Human Life!

 

  --_Thomas Doubleday_.

 

 

 

 

  A Vision Of Joyous-Garde.

 

 

  "And So Sir Launcelot Brought Sir Tristan And La Beate Isoud Unto

  Joyous-Gard, The Which Was His Owne Castle That Hee Had Wonne With His

  Owne Hands."--_Malory_.

 

  "Bamburgh ... The Great Rock-Fortress That Was Known To The Celts As

  Dinguardi, And Was To Figure In Arthurian Romance As Joyous Garde ...

  "--_C.J. Bates_ (History Of Northumberland).

 

    I Wandered Under Winter Stars

    The Lone Northumbrian Shore;

  And Night Lay Deep In Silence On The Sea.

    Save Where, Unceasingly,

    Among The Pillared Scaurs

  Of Perilous Farnes, Wild Waves For Ever More

    Breaking In Foam,

  Sounded As Some Far Strife Through The Star-Haunted Gloam.

 

    Before Me, Looming Through The Night,

    Darker Than Night's Sad Heart,

  King Ida's Castle On The Sheer Crag Set

    Waked Darker Sorrow Yet

    Within Me For The Light,

  Beauty, And Might Of Old Loves Rent Apart,

    Time-Broken, Spent,

  And Strewn As Old Dead Winds Among The Salt-Sea Bent.

 

    Till, Dreaming Of The Glittering Days,

    And Eves With Beauty Starred,

  Time Fell From Me As Some Night-Cloud Withdrawn,

    And In Enchanted Dawn,

    All In A Golden Haze,

  I Saw The Gleaming Towers Of Joyous Garde

    In Splendour Rise,

  Tall, Pinnacled, And White To My Dream-Laden Eyes.

 

    While Thither, As In Days Of Old,

    Launcelot Homeward Came,

  War-Wearied, And Yet Wearier Of The Strife

    Of Love That Tore His Life;

 

    Burning, Beneath The Cold

  Armour Of Steel, A Never-Dying Flame:

    The Fierce Desire

  Consuming Honour's Gold On The Heart's Altar Fire!

 

    And Thither In Great Love He Brought

    The Fugitives Of Love,

  Isoud And Tristram Fleeing From King Mark.

    One Day 'Twixt Dark And Dark

    These Lovers, By Fate Caught

  In Love's Bright Web, Dreamed With Blue Skies Above

    Of Love No Tide

  Of Wavering Life May Part, Or Death's Swift Sea Divide.

 

    But Launcelot, In Their Bliss Forlorn,

    Fled From The Laughter Clear

  Of Happy Lovers, And Love's Silent Noon;

    All Night Beneath The Moon

    He Strode, His Spirit Torn

  For Guenevere! All Night On Guenevere

    He Cried Aloud

  Unto The Moonlit Foam And Every Windy Cloud.

 

         *       *       *       *       *

 

    Then Faded, Quivering, From My Sight

    The Memory-Woven Dream.

  The Towers Of Joyous Garde Shall Never More

    Lighten That Desolate Shore;

    No Longe'r Through The Night

  Wrestling With Love, Beneath The Pale Moon Gleam

    That Anguished Form!--

  But Keen With Snow And Wind, And Loud With Gathering Storm.

 

  _--Wilfrid W. Gibson_.

 

  (In "The Northern Counties Magazine," March, 1901).

 

 

 

 

  My North Countrie.

 

 

  O Though Here Fair Blows The Rose, And The Woodbine Waves On High,

  And Oak, And Elm, And Bracken Fronds Enrich The Rolling Lea,

  And Winds, As If In Arcady, Breathe Joy As They Go By,

  Yet I Yearn And I Pine For My North Countrie!

 

  I Leave The Drowsing South, And In Thought I Northward Fly,

  And Walk The Stretching Moors That Fringe The Ever-Calling Sea,

  And Am Gladdened As The Gales That Are So Bitter-Sweet Rush By.

  While Grey Clouds Sweetly Darken O'er