Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
Scotland: Vols. VI–VIII. 1876–79.
The Brides of Quair
By Isabella Craig Knox (18311903)A
At evenfall, in noontide glare;
Upon the silent hills looked forth
The many-windowed House of Quair.
Browsed on the lawn the timid hare;
The great trees grew i’ the avenue,
Calm by the sheltered House of Quair.
The alders sickened all the air;
There came no murmur from the streams,
Though nigh flowed Leithen, Tweed, and Quair.
And men to court and camp repair,
Their part to fill, of good or ill,
While women keep the House of Quair.
And one is maiden-like and fair,
And day by day they seek the paths
About the lonely fields of Quair.
The summer clouds reflected there,
The maiden loves in pensive dreams
To hang o’er silver Tweed and Quair.
Sits stately in her oaken chair—
A stately dame of ancient name—
The mother of the House of Quair.
With heavy drooping golden hair,
And listens to her frequent plaint,—
“Ill fare the brides that come to Quair.
And more than one hath died of care,
And more than one hath sorely sinned,
Left lonely in the House of Quair.
I had not in his heart a share,
And now—may God forfend her ill—
Thy brother brings his bride to Quair.”
They kissed her on the winding stair,
They led her to the chamber high,
The fairest in the House of Quair.
And mark the scene how passing fair,
Among whose ways the quiet days
Would linger o’er the wife of Quair.
“But what although ’t were bleak and bare—”
She looked the love she did not speak,
And broke the ancient curse of Quair.
His dangers and his toils I ’ll share.”
What need be said,—she was not one
Of the ill-fated brides of Quair.