LET not Death boast his conquering power,
She’ll rise a star that fell a flower.

396   The Bonny Earl of Murray

YE Highlands and ye Lawlands,
   O where hae ye been?
They hae slain the Earl of Murray,
   And hae laid him on the green.

Now wae be to thee, Huntley!
   And whairfore did ye sae!
I bade you bring him wi’ you.
   But forbade you him to slay.

He was a braw gallant,
   And he rid at the ring;
And the bonny Earl of Murray,
   O he might hae been a king!

He was a braw gallant,
   And he play’d at the ba’;
And the bonny Earl of Murray
   Was the flower amang them a’!

He was a braw gallant,
   And he play’d at the gluve;
And the bonny Earl of Murray,
   O he was the Queen’s luve!

O lang will his Lady
   Look owre the Castle Downe,
Ere she see the Earl of Murray
   Come sounding through the town!

397   Helen of Kirconnell

I WISH I were where Helen lies,
Night and day on me she cries;
O that I were where Helen lies,
   On fair Kirconnell lea!

Curst be the heart that thought the thought,
And curst the hand that fired the shot,
When in my arms burd Helen dropt,
   And died to succour me!

O think na ye my heart was sair,
When my Love dropp’d and spak nae mair!
There did she swoon wi’ meikle care,
   On fair Kirconnell lea.

As I went down the water side,
None but my foe to be my guide,
None but my foe to be my guide,
   On fair Kirconnell lea;

I lighted down my sword to draw,
I hackàed him in pieces sma’,
I hackàed him in pieces sma’,
   For her sake that died for me.

O Helen fair, beyond compare!
I’ll mak a garland o’ thy hair,
Shall bind my heart for evermair,
   Until the day I die!

O that I were where Helen lies!
Night and day on me she cries;
Out of my bed she bids me rise,
   Says, ‘Haste, and come to me!’

O Helen fair! O Helen chaste!
If I were with thee, I’d be blest,
Where thou lies low and taks thy rest,
   On fair Kirconnell lea.

I wish my grave were growing green,
A winding-sheet drawn owre my e’en,
And I in Helen’s arms lying,
   On fair Kirconnell lea.

I wish I were where Helen lies!
Night and day on me she cries;
And I am weary of the skies,
   For her sake that died for me.