The Mermaiden.
[William Motherwell.—Set to music in R. A. Smith's Scottish Minstrel.]
The nicht is mirk, and the wind blaws schill,
And the white faem weets my bree,
And my mind misgi'es me, gay maiden,
That the land we sall never see!
Then up and spak' the mermaiden,
And she spak' blythe and free,
"I never said to my bonnie bridegroom,
That on land we suld weddit be.
"Oh! I never said that ane erthlie preest
Our bridal blessing should gi'e,
And I never said that a landwart bouir
Should hald my luve and me."
And whare is that preest, my bonnie maiden,
If ane erthlie wicht is na he?
"Oh! the wind will sough, and the sea will rair,
When weddit we twa sall be."
And whare is that bouir, my bonnie maiden,
If on land it suld na be?
"Oh! my blythe bouir is low," said the mermaiden,
"In the bonnie green howes o' the sea:
My gay bouir is biggit o' the gude ships' keels,
And the banes o' the drowned at sea;
The fisch are the deer that fill my parks,
And the water waste my drurie.
"And my bouir is sklaitit wi' the big blue waves,
And paved wi' the yellow sand,
And in my chalmers grow bonnie white flowers
That never grew on land.
And have ye e'er seen, my bonnie bridegroom,
A leman on earth that wuld gi'e
Aiker for aiker o' the red ploughed land,
As I'll gi'e to thee o' the sea?
The mune will rise in half ane hour,
And the wee bricht sterns will shine;
Then we'll sink to my bouir 'neath the wan water
Full fifty fathom and nine."
A wild, wild skreich, gi'ed the fey bridegroom,
And a loud, loud laugh, the bride;
For the mune raise up, and the twa sank down
Under the silver'd tide.