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Francis T. Palgrave, ed. (1824–1897). The Golden Treasury. 1875.

Anonymous

CVII. Fair Helen

I WISH I were where Helen lies;

Night and day on me she cries;

Oh that I were where Helen lies

On fair Kirconnell lea!

Curst be the heart that thought the thought,

And curst the hand that fired the shot,

When in my arms burd Helen dropt,

And died to succour me!

O think na but my heart was sair

When my Love dropt down and spak nae mair!

I laid her down wi’ meikle care

On fair Kirconnell lea.

As I went down the water-side,

None but my foe to be my guide,

None but my foe to be my guide,

On fair Kirconnell lea;

I lighted down my sword to draw,

I hackèd him in pieces sma’,

I hackèd him in pieces sma’,

For her sake that died for me.

O Helen fair, beyond compare,

I’ll make a garland of thy hair

Shall bind my heart for evermair

Until the day I die.

Oh that I were where Helen lies!

Night and day on me she cries;

Out of my bed she bids me rise,

Says, “Haste and come to me!”

O Helen fair! O Helen chaste!

If I were with thee I were blest,

Where thou lies low and takes thy rest

On fair Kirconnell lea.

I wish my grave were growing green,

A winding-sheet drawn ower my een,

And I in Helen’s arms lyíng,

On fair Kirconnell lea.

I wish I were where Helen lies;

Night and day on me she cries;

And I am weary of the skies,

Since my Love died for me.