No
one, it is to be feared, is left, in Europe at least, whose
knowledge of the subject is so wide and scientific as that of
Professor Child. It is to be hoped that some pupil of his may
complete the task in his sense, if, indeed, he has left it
unfinished.
Ballad: Sir Patrick Spens
(Border Minstrelsy.)
The king sits in Dunfermline town,
Drinking the blude-red wine o:
"O whare will I get a skeely skipper
To sail this new ship of mine o?"
O up and spake an eldern-knight,
Sat at the king's right knee:
"Sir Patrick Spens is the best sailor
That ever saild the sea."
Our king has written a braid letter,
And seald it with his hand,
And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens,
Was walking on the strand.
"To Noroway, to Noroway,
To Noroway oer the faem;
The king's daughter of Noroway,
'Tis thou maun bring her hame."
The first word that Sir Patrick read,
Sae loud, loud laughed he;
The neist word that Sir Patrick read,
The tear blinded his ee.
"O wha is this has done this deed,
And tauld the king o me,
To send us out, at this time of the year,
To sail upon the sea?"
"Be it wind, be it weet, be it hall, be it sleet,
Our ship must sail the faem;
The king's daughter of Noroway,
'Tis we must fetch her hame."
They hoysed their sails on Monenday morn,
Wi' a' the speed they may;
They hae landed in Noroway,
Upon a Wodensday.
They hadna been a week, a week
In Noroway but twae,
When that the lords o Noroway
Began aloud to say:
"Ye Scottishmen spend a' our king's goud,
And a' our queenis fee.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25