Posthumous Poems/Burd Margaret

by Algernon Charles Swinburne

BURD MARGARET

"O wua will get me wheaten bread
 And wha will get me wine?
And wha will build me a gold cradle
 To rock this child of mine?

"There's nane will drink of bitter wine,
 Nor eat of bitter bread;
There's nane will ca' me a clean maiden
 When my body is dead.

"Nae silk maun come upon my feet,
 Nae gowd into my hair;
My brothers smite me on the mouth,
 Where nae man shall kiss mair."

She held her hands in the wan water
 Till the fingers were a' red;
Her face was like nae fair burd's face
 That has her maidenhead.

She's streekit the water on her hair,
 She's signed it owre her chin,
She's streekit the water on her lips
 To let the draps gang in.

The tears ran through her fair sma' mouth;
 The white bones small and thin
Were waxen sharper in her lang throat,
 And in her wrist and chin.

"Gin my mither had wist o' this
 When she was left wi' me,
I wot these arms that are waxen lean
 Had ne'er gaun round a man's body.

"Gin my mither had dreamed a dream
 That sic a kail should fall on me,
She had bound me between her smock and her kirtle
 And cast me ower the sea.

"She had row'd me between her smock and her kirtle,
 Let me to swim or sink;
And I had drunken o' the saut water
 Instead of tears to drink.

"The bairn that is waxen me within,
 It is waxen a pain to me;
But weel lie he and ever weel
 That made my bairn's body.

"The white that was in my twa brows,
 I wot it is waxen red;
But weel lie he and ever weel
 That had my maidenhead.

"O weel be to the fair red roses
 Stood high against my chin;
But ill be to the good green leaves,
 For they were half the sin.

"O weel be to the little bird
 Sang low against my knee;
But ill be to my fause nourice,
 She had sma' reck of me.

"O weel be to the fair red roses
 Stood high against my face;
But ill be to the bonny rowan,
 I wish it never grace."

Burd Margaret lay in the rank water-grass
 By the fairest ford in Tyne;
And between the grass and the aspen leaf,
 She saw their armour shine.

The first of them had fair Milan coats,
 The second had but pikes and jacks;
The third had coats of fair scarlet,
 And gold across their caps.

There were three and three wi' bits of steel,
 And three and three wi' siller fine,
And three and three wi' bits of gold,
 Was red as fair new wine.

"Whatten men be these that rin," she said,
 "Or whatten men be these that ride?
Either ye be thieves frae the north border,
 Or men that look a bride."

"Gin I be rid frae the north border
 And my braw bride won south,
I'll gar her clip me round the body
 And kiss me on the mouth."

"I think ye be nae knight," she said,
 "Nae knight that wons about;
There was never man but a devil
 That had sae lang a snout.

"Gin I should kiss your mouth," she said.
 "I wis I had kissed a loon;
I think ye be some clouted carter,
 Albeit ye wear steel shoon."

"I am Lord Hugh of Burnieshaw,
 Ye may weel ken the face o' me;
And I wad hae back the bonnie lad bairn
 That I left here wi' thee."

"Gin ye be Hughie of Burnieshaw,
 As I trow a better may have been,
Tell me what words I said to you,
 When the rowans were green."

"O first ye pu'd the green berry,
 And syne ye pu'd the red;
And the first word that ever ye spak
 Was to complain your maidenhead.

"O first ye pu'd the red hollin,
 And syne ye pu'd the green:
And the first word ye spak to me
 Ye grat fu' sair between."

"Gin ye be Hughie of Burnieshaw,
 As I think weel ye'll never be,
Here have ye back your bonny lad bairn,
 That sair has troubled me."

She's caught her hand to his bridle-rein,
 Held up her mouth to touch his chin;
"Ye garred me pw' the girdle straight
 That the fair knave bairn was in."

"What needs ye flur and mock, Margaret?
 What needs ye scorn at me?
Ye never gat harm of your fause brothers,
 But ye gat aye the mair gude o' me."

He's put his hands to her body,
 He's laid her thwart his selle;
And ye that hae gotten a bonny sitter
 Gar keep the neist yoursell.

Aye they rode weel, and aye better,
 Until the moon was nigh to sheen;
And aye the tears ran in her breast,
 And aye in the gold between.

"O whether is yon a cry of carlies,
 Or men that cry on me?"
"Bide still, bide still now, Burd Margaret,
 For ye hear naething but the sea."

"O whatten is yonder noise," she said,
 "That I hear cry on us behind?"
"Haud ye by my sleeve now, Burd Margaret,
 For ye hear naething but the wind."

Aye they rode weel, and aye better,
 Until the moon was waxen weak;
And aye she laid her face to his,
 And her tears ran by his cheek.

Aye when he kissed her bonny een,
 I wot they grat fu' sair;
Aye when she laid her head to his,
 I wot the tears ran through his hair.

Aye they rode slow, and aye slower,
 Till the moon's time was a' done;
Between the road and the saddle
 She thought to bear a son.

There she saw her first brother,
 Stood back to a fair tree;
Said "Grace go with our bonny sister
 To ride in sic a companie."

Said "Grace go with our bonnie sister,
 To wear her gown aside;
It is not meet for a good woman
 To set her girdle wide."

He's stricken the first across the neck,
 Shorn clean his beard and hair;
"How haud ye weel, my fair brother,
 Ye'se get of me nae mair."

He's cloven the second through the chin,
 The third upon the knee;
"Now haud ye weel, my three brothers,
 Ye'se get nae mair of me."

They set her in a fair bride-bed,
 Full glad she was the morn;
And between the silk and the braw geld claith,
 The fair knave bairn was born.

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