Francis T. Palgrave, ed. (1824–1897). The Golden Treasury. 1875.
Anonymous CVII. Fair HelenI
Night and day on me she cries;
Oh that I were where Helen lies
On fair Kirconnell lea!
And curst the hand that fired the shot,
When in my arms burd Helen dropt,
And died to succour me!
When my Love dropt down and spak nae mair!
I laid her down wi’ meikle care
On fair Kirconnell lea.
None but my foe to be my guide,
None but my foe to be my guide,
On fair Kirconnell lea;
I hackèd him in pieces sma’,
I hackèd him in pieces sma’,
For her sake that died for me.
I’ll make a garland of thy hair
Shall bind my heart for evermair
Until the day I die.
Night and day on me she cries;
Out of my bed she bids me rise,
Says, “Haste and come to me!”
If I were with thee I were blest,
Where thou lies low and takes thy rest
On fair Kirconnell lea.
A winding-sheet drawn ower my een,
And I in Helen’s arms lyíng,
On fair Kirconnell lea.
Night and day on me she cries;
And I am weary of the skies,
Since my Love died for me.