"My mother was white, with cheeks of red, But thou art pale and like to the dead."

"How should I be fair and fine?

I have been dead; pale cheeks are mine.

"How should I be white and red, So long, so long have I been dead?"

When she came in at the chamber door, There stood the small children weeping sore.

One she braided and one she brushed, The third she lifted, the fourth she hushed.

The fifth she took on her lap and pressed, As if she would suckle it at her breast.

Then to her eldest daughter said she, "Do thou bid Svend Dyring come hither to me."

Into the chamber when he came She spake to him in anger and shame.

"I left behind me both ale and bread; My children hunger and are not fed.

"I left behind me the quilts of blue; My children lie on the straw ye strew.

"I left behind me the great wax light; My children lie in the dark at night.

"If I come again into your hall, As cruel a fate shall you befall!

"Now crows the c.o.c.k with feathers red, Back to the earth must all the dead.

"Now crows the c.o.c.k with feathers swart; The gates of heaven fly wide apart.

"Now crows the c.o.c.k with feathers white; I can abide no longer to-night."

Whenever they heard the watch-dogs wail, They gave the children bread and ale.

Whenever they heard the watch-dogs bay, They feared lest the dead were on their way.

Whenever they heard the watch-dogs bark, _I myself was young._ They feared the dead out there in the dark.

_Fair words gladden so many a heart._

THE DEAD MOTHER: ROBERT BUCHANAN

1

As I lay asleep, as I lay asleep, Under the gra.s.s as I lay so deep, As I lay asleep in my cotton serk Under the shade of Our Lady's Kirk, I waken'd up in the dead of night, I waken'd up in my death-serk white, And I heard a cry from far away, And I knew the voice of my daughter May: "Mother, Mother, come hither to me!

Mother, Mother, come hither and see!

Mother, Mother, Mother dear, Another Mother is sitting here: My body is bruised and in pain I cry, On straw in the dark afraid I lie, I thirst and hunger for drink and meat, And Mother, Mother, to sleep were sweet!"

I heard the cry, though my grave was deep, And awoke from sleep, and awoke from sleep.

2

I awoke from sleep, I awoke from sleep, Up I rose from my grave so deep!

The earth was black, but overhead The stars were yellow, the moon was red; And I walk'd along all white and thin, And lifted the latch and enter'd in, And reached the chamber as dark as night, And though it was dark, my face was white: "Mother, Mother, I look on thee!

Mother, Mother, you frighten me!

For your cheeks are thin and your hair is gray!"

But I smiled and kissed her fears away, I smooth'd her hair and I sang a song, And on my knee I rocked her long: "O Mother, Mother, sing low to me-- I am sleepy now, and I cannot see!"

I kissed her, but I could not weep, And she went to sleep, and she went to sleep.

3

As we lay asleep, as we lay asleep, My May and I, in our grave so deep, As we lay asleep in the midnight mirk, Under the shade of Our Lady's Kirk, I waken'd up in the dead of night, Though May my daughter lay warm and white, For I heard the cry of a little one, And I knew 'twas the voice of Hugh my son: "Mother, Mother, come hither to me; Mother, Mother, come hither and see!

Mother, Mother, Mother dear, Another Mother is sitting here: My body is bruised and my heart is sad, But I speak my mind and call them bad; I thirst and hunger night and day, And were I strong I would fly away!"

I heard the cry, though my grave was deep, And awoke from sleep, and awoke from sleep!

4

I awoke from sleep, I awoke from sleep, Up I rose from my grave so deep, The earth was black, but overhead The stars were yellow, the moon was red; And I walk'd along all white and thin, And lifted the latch and enter'd in.

"Mother, Mother, and art thou here?

I know your face and I feel no fear; Raise me, Mother, and kiss my cheek, For oh I am weary and sore and weak."

I smoothed his hair with a mother's joy, And he laugh'd aloud, my own brave boy: I raised and held him on my breast, Sang him a song, and bade him rest.

"Mother, Mother, sing low to me-- I am sleepy now and I cannot see!"

I kissed him and I could not weep, As he went to sleep, as he went to sleep.

5

As I lay asleep, as I lay asleep, With my girl and boy in my grave so deep, As I lay asleep, I awoke in fear, Awoke, but awoke not my children dear, And I heard a cry so low and weak From a tiny voice that could not speak; I heard the cry of a little one, My bairn that could neither talk nor run, My little, little one, uncaress'd, Starving for lack of the milk of the breast; And I rose from sleep and enter'd in, And found my little one, pinch'd and thin, And croon'd a song, and hush'd its moan, And put its lips to my white breast-bone; And the red, red moon that lit the place Went white to look at the little face, And I kiss'd and kiss'd and I could not weep, As it went to sleep, as it went to sleep.

6

As it lay asleep, as it lay asleep, I set it down in the darkness deep, Smooth'd its limbs and laid it out, And drew the curtains round about; Then into the dark, dark room I hied Where he lay awake at the woman's side, And though the chamber was black as night, He saw my face, for it was so white; I gazed in his eyes, and he shrieked in pain, And I knew he would never sleep again, And back to my grave went silently, And soon my baby was brought to me; My son and daughter beside me rest, My little baby is on my breast; Our bed is warm and our grave is deep, But he cannot sleep, he cannot sleep!

LEGENDS AND BALLADS OF THE DEAD

THE FOLK OF THE AIR: WM. BUTLER YEATS

O'Driscoll drove with a song, The wild duck and the drake From the tall and the tufted weeds Of the drear Heart Lake.

And he saw how the weeds grew dark At the coming of night tide, And he dreamed of the long dark hair Of Bridget his bride.

He heard while he sang and dreamed A piper pa.s.sing away, And never was piping so sad, And never was piping so gay.

And he saw young men and young girls Who danced on a level place, And Bridget his bride among them, With a sad and a gay face.

The dancers crowded about him, And many a sweet thing said, And a young man brought him red wine, And a young girl white bread.

But Bridget drew him by the sleeve, Away from the merry bands, To old men playing at cards With a twinkling of ancient hands.