SONG FROM ÆLLA
by: Thomas Chatterton (1752-1770)
 SING unto
my roundelay,
- O drop the briny tear with me;
- Dance no more at holyday,
- Like a running river be:
- My love is dead,
- Gone to his death-bed
- All under the willow-tree.
-
- Black his cryne [1] as the winter
night,
- White his rode [2] as the summer
snow,
- Red his face as the morning light,
- Cole he lies in the grave below:
- My love is dead,
- Gone to his death-bed
- All under the willow-tree.
-
- Sweet his tongue as the throstle's note,
- Quick in dance as thought can be,
- Deft his tabor, cudgel stout;
- O he lies by the willow-tree!
- My love is dead,
- Gone to his death-bed
- All under the willow-tree.
-
- Hark! the raven flaps his wing
- In the brier'd dell below;
- Hark! the death-owl loud doth sing
- To the nightmares, as they go:
- My love is dead,
- Gone to his death-bed
- All under the willow-tree.
-
- See! the white moon shines on high;
- Whiter is my true-love's shroud:
- Whiter than the morning sky,
- Whiter than the evening cloud:
- My love is dead,
- Gone to his death-bed
- All under the willow-tree.
-
- Here upon my true-love's grave
- Shall the barren flowers be laid;
- Not one holy saint to save
- All the coldness of a maid:
- My love is dead,
- Gone to his death-bed
- All under the willow-tree.
-
- With my hands I'll dent the briers
- Round his holy corse to gre [3]:
- Ouph [4] and fairy, light your
fires,
- Here my body still shall be:
- My love is dead,
- Gone to his death-bed
- All under the willow-tree.
-
- Come, with acorn-cup and thorn,
- Drain my heartès blood away;
- Life and all its good I scorn,
- Dance by night, or feast by day:
- My love is dead,
- Gone to his death-bed
- All under the willow-tree.
MORE
POEMS BY THOMAS CHATTERTON
1
cryne - hair
2
rode - complexion
3
gre - grow
4
ouph - elf |
|
