Waiting thus in weariness She marked the nightingale Telling, if any one would heed, Its old complaining tale. Then lifted she her voice and sang, Answering the bird: Then lifted she her voice and sang, Such notes were never heard From any bird when Spring's in blow. The king of all that country Coursing far, coursing near, Curbed his amber-bitted steed, Coursed amain to hear; All his princes in his train, Squire, and knight, and peer, With his crown upon his head, His sceptre in his hand, Down he fell at Margaret's knees Lord king of all that land, To her highness bending low. Every beast and bird and fish Came mustering to the sound, Every man and every maid From miles of country round: Meggan on her herdsman's arm, With her shepherd, May, Flocks and herds trooped at their heels Along the hillside way; No foot too feeble for the ascent, Not any head too gray; Some were swift and none were slow. So Margaret sang her sisters home In their marriage mirth; Sang free birds out of the sky, Beasts along the earth, Sang up fishes of the deep,-- All breathing things that move Sang from far and sang from near To her lovely love; Sang together friend and foe; Sang a golden-bearded king Straightway to her feet, Sang him silent where he knelt In eager anguish sweet. But when the clear voice died away, When longest echoes died, He stood up like a royal man And claimed her for his bride. So three maids were wooed and won In a brief May-tide, Long ago and long ago. JESSIE CAMERON. "Jessie, Jessie Cameron, Hear me but this once," quoth he. "Good luck go with you, neighbor's son, But I'm no mate for you," quoth she. Day was verging toward the night There beside the moaning sea, Dimness overtook the light There where the breakers be. "O Jessie, Jessie Cameron, I have loved you long and true."-- "Good luck go with you, neighbor's son, But I'm no mate for you." She was a careless, fearless girl, And made her answer plain; Outspoken she to earl or churl, Kind-hearted in the main, But somewhat heedless with her tongue, And apt at causing pain; A mirthful maiden she and young, Most fair for bliss or bane. "O, long ago I told you so, I tell you so to-day: Go you your way, and let me go Just my own free way."