'Tis not the frost, that freezes fell, Nor blawing snaw's inclemencie; 'Tis not sic cauld that makes me cry, But my Love's heart grown cauld to me. When we came in by Glasgow town We were a comely sight to see; My Love was clad in the black velvét, And I mysell in cramasie. But had I wist, before I kist, That love had been sae ill to win; I had lockt my heart in a case of gowd And pinn'd it with a siller pin. And, O! if my young babe were born, And set upon the nurse's knee, And I mysell were dead and gane, And the green grass growing over me! _Anon._ CXXXIV Upon my lap my sovereign sits And sucks upon my breast; Meantime his love maintains my life And gives my sense her rest. Sing lullaby, my little boy, Sing lullaby, mine only joy! When thou hast taken thy repast, Repose, my babe, on me; So may thy mother and thy nurse Thy cradle also be. Sing lullaby, my little boy, Sing lullaby, mine only joy! I grieve that duty doth not work All that my wishing would, Because I would not be to thee But in the best I should. Sing lullaby, my little boy, Sing lullaby, mine only joy! Yet as I am, and as I may, I must and will be thine, Though all too little for thy self Vouchsafing to be mine. Sing lullaby, my little boy, Sing lullaby, mine only joy! _Anon._ CXXXV _FAIR HELEN_ 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 but my heart was sair When my Love dropt down and spak nae mair! I laid her down 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 hackéd him in pieces sma', I hackéd him in pieces sma', For her sake that died for me. O Helen fair, beyond compare! I'll make a garland of 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 were blest, Where thou lies low and takes thy rest On fair Kirconnell lea. I wish my grave were growing green, A winding-sheet drawn ower my een, 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, Since my Love died for me. _Anon._ CXXXVI _THE TWA CORBIES_