Classic and Contemporary Poetry
A BALLAD OF LAUDERDALE, by PHOEBE CARY Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: A shepherd's child young barbara grew Last Line: The song that won his heart! Subject(s): Love | ||||||||
A SHEPHERD'S child young Barbara grew, A wild flower of the vale; While gallant Duncan was the heir Of the Laird of Lauderdale. He sat at ease in bower and hall With ladies gay and fine; She led her father's sheep at morn, At eve she milked the kine. O'er field and fell his steed he rode, The foremost in the race; She bounded graceful as the deer He followed in the chase. Yet oft he left his pleasant friends, And, musing, walked apart; For vague unrest and soft desire Were stirring in his heart. One morn, when others merrily Wound horn within the wood, He on the hill-side strayed alone, In tender, thoughtful mood. And there, with yellow snooded hair, And plaid about her flung, Tending her pretty flock of sheep, Fair Barbara sat and sung. The very heath-flower bent to hear, The echoes seemed to pause, As sweet and clear the maiden sang The song of "Leader Haughs." And, while young Duncan, gazing, stood Enchanted by the sound, He from the arrows of her eyes Received a mortal wound! "Sweet maid," he cried, "the first whose power Hath ever held me fast; Now take my love, or scorn my love, You still shall be the last!" She felt her heart with pity move, Yet hope within her died; She knew her friendless poverty, She knew his wealth and pride. "Alas! your father's scorn," she said, "Alas! my humble state." "'T were pity," Duncan gayly cried, But love were strong as hate!" He took her little trembling hand, He kissed her fears away; "Whate'er the morrow brings," he said, "We'll live and love to-day!" So all the summer through they met, Nor thought what might betide, Till the purple heather all about The hills grew brown and died. One eve they, parting, lingered long Together in the dell, When suddenly a shadow black As fate between them fell. The hot blood rushed to Duncan's brow, The maiden's cheek grew pale, For right across their pathway frowned The Laird of Lauderdale. Ah! cruel was the word he spake, And cruel was his deed; He would not see the maiden's face, Nor hear the lover plead. He called his followers, in wrath, They came in haste and fright; They tore the youth from out her arms, They bore him from her sight. And he at eve may come no more; Her song no more she trills; Her cheek is whiter than the lambs She leads along the hills. For Barbara now is left alone Through all the weary hours, While Duncan pines a prisoner, fast Within his father's towers. And autumn goes, and spring-time comes, And Duncan, true and bold, Has scorned alike his father's threats And bribes of land and gold. And autumn goes, and spring-time comes, And Barbara sings and smiles: "'T is fair for love," she softly says, "To use love's arts and wiles." No other counselor hath she But her own sweet constancy; Yet hath her wit devised a way To set her true love free. One night, when slumber brooded deep O'er all the peaceful glen, She baked a cake, the like of which Was never baked till then. For first she took a slender cord, And wound it close and small; Then in the barley bannock safe She hid the mystic ball. Next morn her father missed his child, He searched the valley round; But not a maid like her within Twice twenty miles was found. For she hath ta'en the maiden snood And the bright curls from her head, And now she wears the bonnet blue Of a shepherd lad instead. And she hath crossed the silent hills, And crossed the lonely vale; And safe at morn she stands before The towers of Lauderdale. And not a hand is raised to harm The pretty youth and tall, With just a bannock in his scrip, Who stands without the wall. Careless awhile he wanders round, But when the daylight dies He comes and stands beneath the tower Where faithful Duncan lies. Fond man! nor sunset dyes he sees, Nor stars come out above; His thoughts are all upon the hills, Where first he learned to love; When suddenly he hears a voice, That makes his pulses start -- A sweet voice singing "Leader Haughs," The song that won his heart. He leans across the casement high; A minstrel boy he spies; He knows the maiden of his love Through all her strange disguise! She made a sign, she spake no word, And never a word spake he; She took the bannock from her scrip And brake it on her knee! She threw the slender cord aloft, He caught and made it fast; One moment more and he is safe, Free as the winds at last! No time is this for speech or kiss, No time for aught but flight; His good steed standing in the stall Must bear them far to-night. So swiftly Duncan brought him forth, He mounted hastily; "Now, set your foot on mine," he said, "And give your hand to me!" He lifts her up; they sweep the hills, They ford the foaming beck; He kisses soft the loving hands That cling about his neck. In vain at morn the Laird, in wrath, Would follow where they fled; They're o'er the Border, far away, Before the east is red. And when the third day's sun at eve Puts on his purple state, Brave Duncan checks his foaming steed Before his father's gate. Out came the Laird, with cruel look, With quick and angry stride; When at his feet down knelt his son, With Barbara at his side, "Forgive me, father," low he said, No single word she spake; But the tender face she lifted up Plead for her lover's sake. She raised to him her trembling hands, In her eyes the tears were bright, And any but a heart of stone Had melted at the sight. "Let love," cried Duncan, "bear the blame, Love would not be denied; Fast were we wedded yestermorn, I bring you here my bride!" Then the Laird looked down into her eyes, And his tears were near to fall; He raised them both from off the ground, He led them toward the Hall. Wondering the mute retainers stood, "Why give you not," he said, "The homage due unto my son, And to her whom he hath wed?" Then every knee was lowly bent, And every head was bare; "Long live," they cried, "his fair young bride, And our master's honored heir! Years come and go, and in his stall The good steed idly stands; The Laird is laid with his line to rest, By his children's loving hands. And now within the castle proud They lead a happy life; For he is Laird of Lauderdale, And she his Lady wife. And oft, when hand in hand they sit, And watch the day depart, She sings the song of "Leader Haughs," The song that won his heart! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE INVENTION OF LOVE by MATTHEA HARVEY TWO VIEWS OF BUSON by ROBERT HASS A LOVE FOR FOUR VOICES: HOMAGE TO FRANZ JOSEPH HAYDN by ANTHONY HECHT AN OFFERING FOR PATRICIA by ANTHONY HECHT LATE AFTERNOON: THE ONSLAUGHT OF LOVE by ANTHONY HECHT A SWEETENING ALL AROUND ME AS IT FALLS by JANE HIRSHFIELD A LEGEND OF THE NORTHLAND by PHOEBE CARY |
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