Bliss Carman, et al., eds. The World’s Best Poetry. 1904.
V. Death and BereavementMinstrels Song
Thomas Chatterton (17527#150;1770)O
O, drop the briny tear with me!
Dance no more at holiday;
Like a running river be.
My love is dead,
Gone to his death-bed,
All under the willow-tree.
White his neck as the summer snow,
Ruddy his face as the morning light;
Cold he lies in the grave below.
My love is dead, etc.
Quick in dance as thought can be;
Deft his tabor, cudgel stout;
O, lie lies by the willow-tree!
My love is dead, etc.
In the briered dell below;
Hark! the death-owl loud doth sing
To the nightmares as they go.
My love is dead, etc.
Whiter is my-true-love’s shroud,
Whiter than the morning sky,
Whiter than the evening cloud.
My love is dead, etc.
Shall the barren flowers be laid,
Nor one holy saint to save
All the coldness of a maid.
My love is dead, etc.
Round his holy corse to gre;
Ouphant fairy, light your fires;
Here my body still shall be.
My love is dead, etc.
Drain my heart’s blood away;
Life and all its good I scorn,
Dance by night, or feast by day.
My love is dead, etc.
Bear me to your lethal tide.
I die! I come! my true-love waits….
Thus the damsel spake, and died.