Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE COUSINS, by JANET HAMILTON



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THE COUSINS, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Twa bonny young lassies, fair cousins, I ween
Last Line: "again I s'all meet her an' nevermair part."
Alternate Author Name(s): Hamilton, Janet Thompson
Subject(s): Cousins


LILY.

TWA bonny young lassies, fair cousins, I ween.
Mair brichter or bonnier ever were seen—
Ane fair as the lily, ane ruddy and broun,
An' the twa were the brag an' pride o' oor toun.

But Lily, fair Lily, was counted the queen,
As sharp as a needle, an' trig as a preen;
Her hair was sae gowden, her een were sae blue,
Sae white an' sae sunny her bonny brent broo.

In a wee hoose she leev'd wi' her mither alane,
A puir widow bodie, wha but her had nane
To help her an' cheer her by nicht an' by day,
For Lily was warkrife, tho' blythesome an' gay.

And Lily had wooers. The ane she lo'ed best
Was Willie, the blacksmith, wha aften had press'd
For a promise that she wad be his evermair;
But mither she thocht him ower sweet to be fair.

"O Lily, tak' tent; it's no lang since ye saw
The chiel', an' o' him ye ken naething ava.
His een are sae pawkie, his speech is sae fine.
I'm wae since thou tauld me he sune wad be thine."

But Lily had promis'd, an' wadna withdraw
The troth she had gien; an' the puir mither saw
She wad lose her sweet bairn, for sune they were wed,
An' far to the nor' lan' fair Lily was led.

An' Willie to her was aye lovin' an' dear
Till a bairnie was born in the end o' the year,
An' sune he grew thochtfu', but no the less kind;
But Lily jaloused he was troubled in mind.

Three towmonds gaed by, an' she neer thocht them lang.
Ae day she was singin' an' workin' fu' thrang,
Her bairnie was trottin' aboot on the floor,
Whan a woman cam' in an' steekit the door.

Then oot spak' the stranger, "There needna be strife
Atween us, for, ken ye, I'm Willie's true wife.
The proofs o' oor marriage I bear on my breast;
Ye'll see them, an' that will set matters to rest."

Syne oot frae her bosom some papers she drew.
"Read, lassie, an' see if my words binna true.
Oor marriage certificate's valid and fair,
Wi' the minister's name an' the witnesses' there.

"I cam' frae the border; it's there I was bred;
There Willie he coorted me; there we were wed.
Seven towmonds hae gane since he made me his wife;
It's four since we pairted in anger an' strife."

Whan Lily had read it, wi' sorrow and shame
She said in her heart, "It's mysel' I've to blame.
To mither's gude counsel I wadna gae heed,
An' noo o' her counsel I'm sairly in need.

"O, did she but ken o' this sorrowfu' day,
Fu' weel I can guess what my mither wad say,
'Come back to me, lassie, a' s'all be forgien,
Baith thee an' thy bairn s'all be welcome, I ween.'"

An' then o' her claes she made up a bit pack,
Teuk bread in her pouch, and her bairn on her back,
Set aff thro' the muirs at the tap o' her speed,
Prayin' God to forgie and help her in need.

She wadit the burnie, and speel'd ower the stile,
To wun the hie road she gaed mony a mile,
Then sairly forfochten, an' maist like to drap,
Sat doun on the grass wi' the bairn in her lap.

When she rase to her feet, and leukit aroun',
The bairnie was sleepin', the sun was gaun doun;
A lanely farm steadin' stood by the road side,
An' there for the nicht she gat welcome to bide.

She tauld them the name o' the parish and toun
Whaur dwelt her ain mither—to her she was boun'.
The wife said, "Puir lassie, it's thretty miles lang;
The road ye maun travel, if there ye wad gang.

"But God to the shorn lambie tempers the win',
The place ye are seekin' He'll help ye to fin';
But wow ye'll be weary an' unco forfairn
Wi' the bundle ye carry, forbye the bit bairn."

"A stout heart," said Lily, "befits a stey brae.
I'll carry my burden as far as I may,
An' shou'd I be weary, sair weary," quo' she,
"It's hame to my mither, it's hame I maun be."

Her feet they were blister'd, her back like to break,
The bairn on her shouthers, his arms roun' her neck:
But neist day at gloamin' she wan to the toun,
And there at her mither's door-cheek she sat doun.

It wasna that lang till the mither cam' oot;
Whan Lily she saw she grew white as a clout.
"O, hoo got ye speerin's? an' hoo did ye win
To me, my dear lassie? fye! come awa' in."

Sae saftly she wash'd her puir Lily's sair feet.
"Say naething, my lass, till I get ye some meat,"
An' syne the wee callan' she kin'ly teuk up,
An' he sat on her knee and drank o' her cup.

"O mither!" said Lily, an' dichtit her een,
"But you on the yirth I hae nae ither freen;
And as lang as we leeve, thegither we'll bide;—
O dool on the day when I gaed frae your side."

Then tauld she her mither a' things that befel;
But what cam' o' Willie she never heard tell.
Noo the bairn's grown a man, an' works for his mither,
Wha says, "Like her laddie there's no sic anither."

BESSIE.

An noo I maun tell ye o' bright Bessie Broun,
Wi' her saft dimpled cheek sae rosy an' roun',
Wi' hair like the blackbird, the licht o' her een
Like the sweet dewy star o' the gloamin', I ween.

The sang o' the lintie, that bigs in the brier,
Was like the dear lassie's, sae sweet an' sae clear;
The smile was sae witching that played roun' her mou',
The chiels were aye comin' fair Bessie to woo.

Amang them was ane, whan he tirl'd the pin,
That Bessie, saft blushin', wad bid to come in;
He socht, she had gien him, her young lovin' heart,
An' ne'er had she dream'd that ere lang they maun part.

She was couthie an' mensefu' in manner; her mind,
By muckle gude readin', was bricht an' refined;
An' aye to her knee the wee bairnies wad speel,
An' a' the gude neebors they likit her weel.

The day it was set when she wad be a bride,
An' Bessie was eident the braws to provide;
But wha disna ken that there's mony a slip
Has happened atween the fu' cup an' the lip?

Ae dreepin' hairst day she was oot in the weet,
An' gat a sair cauld, an' was laid aff her feet;
An' a' thro' the winter sae sairly she dwined,
Her young hopes were blighted, but she was resign'd.

The snawdrap an' crocus peep'd oot thro' the snaw,
But Bessie, dear Bessie, the blumes never saw;
Her true lover, Geordie, an' mither sae dear,
Were a' that she wanted to see or to hear.

Sair, sair was his heart, but hoo caum were his leuks
Whan to her he was readin' the best o' a' beuks;
She leuk'd in his een whan she cudna weel speak,
For the rose o' the hectic was bricht on her cheek.

She dee'd in his arms as he knelt by her side.
He ne'er wooed anither, or socht for a bride;
"Tho' noo she's gane frae me," he said in his heart,
"Again I s'all meet her an' nevermair part."





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