English Poetry I: From Chaucer to Gray.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14.
Lady Grisel Baillie
272. Werena My Heart Licht I Wad Dee
T
She biggit her bonnie bow’r doun in yon glen;
Come doun the green gait and come here away!
He said he saw naething sae lovely as me;
He hecht me baith rings and mony braw things—
And werena my heart licht, I wad dee.
Because I was twice as bonnie as she;
She raised sic a pother ’twixt him and his mother
That werena my heart’s licht, I wad dee.
The wife took a dwam and lay doun to dee;
She maned and she graned out o’ dolour and pain,
Till he vow’d he never wad see me again.
Said—What had he do wi’ the likes of me?
Appose I was bonnie, I wasna for Johnnie—
And werena my heart licht, I wad dee.
Nor dribbles o’ drink rins thro’ the draff,
Nor pickles o’ meal rins thro’ the mill-e’e—
And werena my heart licht, I wad dee.
She spied me as I cam owre the lea;
And then she ran in and made a loud din—
Believe your ain e’en, an ye trow not me.
His auld ane look’d ay as well as some’s new:
But now he lets ’t wear ony gait it will hing,
And casts himsel dowie upon the corn bing.
And a’ he dow do is to hund the tykes:
The live-lang nicht he ne’er steeks his e’e—
And werena my heart licht, I wad dee.
We should hae been gallopin’ doun in yon green,
And linkin’ it owre the lily-white lea—
And wow, gin I were but young for thee!