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Molly of the North Country

My love she was born in the north country wide,
Where's lofty hills and mountains all round on every side;
She's one of the fairest creatures that ever my eyes did see,
She exceeds all the maids in the north country.

My parents separated me and my dear,
Which caused me to weep and shed many a tear;
Asleep I do mourn, and awake I do cry,
And 'tis all for the sake of my darling I die.

Come saddle my horse that I may go ride
In search of my true love, let what will betide.
O'er lofty hills and mountains I'll wander and I'll rove

A Valentine to My Mother

My blessed Mother dozing in her chair
On Christmas Day seemed an embodied Love,
A comfortable Love with soft brown hair
Softened and silvered to a tint of dove,
A better sort of Venus with an air
Angelical from thoughts that dwell above,
A wiser Pallas in whose body fair
Enshrined a blessed soul looks out thereof.
Winter brought Holly then; now Spring has brought
Paler and frailer Snowdrops shivering;
And I have brought a simple humble thought
—I her devoted duteous Valentine—,
A lifelong thought which thrills this song I sing,

Madrigal: To his Lady Selvaggia Vergiolesi; likening his Love to a search for Gold

Iam all bent to glean the golden ore
Little by little from the river-bed;
Hoping the day to see
When Crœsus shall be conquered in my store.
Therefore, still sifting where the sands are spread,
I labour patiently:
Till, thus intent on this thing and no more,—
If to a vein of silver I were led,
It scarce could gladden me.
And, seeing that no joy's so warm i' the core
As this whereby the heart is comforted
And the desire set free,—
Therefore thy bitter love is still my scope,
Lady, from whom it is my life's sore theme

Calvary

A dying figure against the sky;
Laughter mocking a piteous cry;
Terror, silence, an anguished plea:
“Father, forgive them, they do not see!”

Piercing the darkness like singing flame,
“My Love shall enfold them!” the answer came.

A dying figure against the sky;
Laughter mocking a piteous cry;
Terror, silence, an anguished plea:
“Father, forgive them, they do not see!”

Piercing the darkness like singing flame,
“My Love shall enfold them!” the answer came.

The Blacksmith

A blacksmith courted me, nine months and better.
He fairly won my heart, wrote me a letter.
With his hammer in his hand, he looked so clever,
And if I was with my love, I'd live for ever.

And where is my love gone, with his cheek like roses,
And his good black billycock on, decked with primroses?
I'm afraid the scorching sun will shine and burn his beauty,
And if I was with my love, I'd do my duty.

Strange news is come to town, strange news is carried,
Strange news flies up and down that my love is married.

Translation Of A Romaic Love Song

Ah! Love was never yet without
The pang, the agony, the doubt,
Which rends my heart with ceaseless sigh,
While day and night roll darkling by.

Without one friend to hear my woe,
I faint, I die beneath the blow.
That Love had arrows well I knew;
Alas! I find them poison'd too.

Birds, yet in freedom, shun the net
Which Love around your haunts hath set;
Or, circled by his fatal fire,
Your hearts shall burn, your hopes expire.

A bird of free and careless wing
Was I through many a smiling spring;

Two Truths

Darling,' he said, 'I never meant
To hurt you;' and his eyes were wet.
'I would not hurt you for the world:
Am I to blame if I forget?'

'Forgive my selfish tears!' she cried,
'Forgive! I knew that it was not
Because you meant to hurt me, sweet-
I knew it was that you forgot!'

But all the same, deep in her heart
Rankled this thought, and rankles yet,-
'When love is at its best, one loves
So much that he cannot forget.'

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