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Chatterton, Thomas: Song from Ælla (Minstrel's song)

Portre of Chatterton, Thomas

Song from Ælla (Minstrel's song) (English)

O sing unto my roundelay,

  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.

 

Black his lock as the winter night,

  White his robe as the summer snow,

Red his face as the morning light;

  Cold he lies in the grave below:

         My love is dead,

         Gone to his death-bed,

         All under the willow tree.

 

Sweet his tongue as the throstle's note;

   Quick to dance as thought can be;

Deft his tabor, cudgel stout;

   O! he lies by the willow tree:

       My love lies dead,

       Gone to his death-bed,

       All under the willow tree.

 

Hark! the raven flaps his wing

   In the briered dell below;

Hark! the death-owl loud doth sing

   To the night-mares as they go;

         My love is dead,

         Gone to his death-bed,

         All under the willow tree.

 

See! the white moon shines on high;

  Whiter in my true-love's shroud,

Whiter than the morning sky,

  Whiter than the evening cloud:

       My love is dead,

       Gone to his death-bed,

       All under the willow tree.

 

Here upon my true love's grave

   Shall the barren flowers be laid,

Nor one holy saint to save

   All the coldness of a maid:

       My love is dead,

       Gone to his death-bed,

       All under the willow tree.

 

With my hands I'll bind the briers

   Round his holy corse to gre;

Ouph and fairy, light your fires-

   Here my body still shall be:

         My love is dead,

         Gone to his deasth-bed,

         All under the willow tree.

 

Come with acorn-cup and thorn,

   Drain my heart's blood away;

Life and all its good I scorn,

   Dance by night or feast by day:

         My love is dead,

         Gone to his death-bed,

         All under the willow tree.

 

Water-witches crowned with reytes,

    Bear me to your lethal tide,

I die! I come! my true love waits;-

   Thus the damsel spake and died.



Uploaded byP. T.
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