The Daemon Lover

‘O where hae ye been, my long, long love,
These seven long years and more?’--
‘O I’m come to seek my former vows,
That ye promised me before.’--

‘Awa’ wi’ your former vows,’ she says,
‘For they will breed but strife;
Awa’ wi’ your former vows,’ she says,
‘For I am become a wife.

‘I am married to a ship-carpenter,
A ship-carpenter he’s bound;
I wadna he kenn’d my mind this nicht
For twice five hundred pound.’

He turn’d him round and round about,
And the tear blinded his e’e:
‘I wad never hae trodden on Irish ground
If it hadna been for thee.

‘I might hae had a noble lady,
Far, far beyond the sea;
I might hae had a noble lady,
Were it no for the love o’ thee.’--

‘If ye might hae had a noble lady,
Yoursel’ ye had to blame;
Ye might hae taken the noble lady,
For ye kenn’d that I was nane.’--

‘O fause are the vows o’ womankind,
But fair is their fause bodie:
I wad never hae trodden on Irish ground,
Were it no for the love o’ thee.’--

‘If I was to leave my husband dear,
And my wee young son alsua,
O what hae ye to tak’ me to,
If with you I should gae?’--

‘I hae seven ships upon the sea,
The eighth brought me to land;
With mariners and merchandise,
And music on every hand.

‘The ship wherein my love sall sail
Is glorious to behowd;
The sails sall be o’ the finest silk,
And the mast o’ beaten gowd.’

She has taken up her wee young son,
Kiss’d him baith cheek and chin;
‘O fare ye weel, my wee young son,
For I’ll never see you again!’

She has put her foot on gude ship-board,
And on ship-board she has gane,
And the veil that hangit ower her face
Was a’ wi’ gowd begane.

She hadna sail’d a league, a league,
A league but barely twa,
Till she minded on her husband she left
And her wee young son alsua.

‘O haud your tongue o’ weeping,’ he says,
‘Let a’ your follies a-bee;
I’ll show where the white lilies grow
On the banks o’ Italie.’

She hadna sail’d a league, a league,
A league but barely three,
Till grim, grim grew his countenance
And gurly grew the sea.

‘What hills are yon, yon pleasant hills,
The sun shines sweetly on?’--
‘O yon are the hills o’ Heaven,’ he said,
‘Where you will never won.’--

‘O whaten-a mountain is yon,’ she said,
‘Sae dreary wi’ frost and snae?’--
‘O yon is the mountain o’ Hell,’ he said,
‘Where you and I will gae.

‘But haud your tongue, my dearest dear,
Let a’ your follies a-bee,
I’ll show where the white lilies grow,
In the bottom o’ the sea.’

And aye as she turn’d her round about,
Aye taller he seem’d to be;
Until that the tops o’ that gallant ship
Nae taller were than he.

He strack the top-mast wi’ his hand,
The fore-mast wi’ his knee;
And he brake that gallant ship in twain,
And sank her in the sea.