Classic Poem

In London was young Beichan born,
— He longed strange countries for to see;
But he was ta'ndash by a savage Moor,
— Who handled him right cruellie;

For he viewed the fashions of that land:
— Their way of worship viewed he;
But to Mahound, or Termagant,
— Would Beichan never bend a knee.

So in every shoulder they've putten a bore,
— In every bore they've putten a tree,
And they have made him trail the wine
— And spices on his fair bodie.

They've casten him in a dungeon deep,
— Where he could neither hear nor see;
And fed him on naught but bread and water,
— Till he for hunger's like to dee.

This Moor he had but ae daughter,
— Her name was called Susie Pye;
And every day as she took the air,
— Near Beichan's prison she passed by.

And so it fell upon a day,
— About the middle time of Spring,
As she was passing by that way,
— She heard young Beichan sadly sing:

" My hounds they all run masterless,
— My hawks they fly frae tree to tree;
My youngest brother will heir my lands;
— Fair England again I'll never see.

" Oh were I free as I hae been,
— And my ship swimming once more on sea,
I'd turn my face to fair England,
— And sail no more to a strange countrie! "

All night long no rest she got,
— Young Beichan's song for thinking on;
She's stown the keys from her father's head,
— And to the prison strang is gone.

And she has opened the prison doors,
— I wot she opened two or three,
Ere she could come young Beichan at,
— He was locked up so curiouslie.

But when she cam' young Beichan till,
— Sore wondered he that may to see;
He took her for some fair captive:
— " Fair lady, I pray, of what countrie? "

" O have ye any lands, " she said,
— " Or castles in your ain countrie,
That ye could give a lady fair,
— From prison strang to set you free? "

" Near London town I have a hall,
— And other castles two or three;
I'll give them all to the lady fair
— That out of prison will set me free. "

" Give me the truth of your right hand,
— The truth of it give unto me,
That for seven years ye'll no lady wed,
— Unless it be alang wi' me. "

" I'll give thee the truth of my right hand,
— The truth of it I'll freely gie,
That for seven years I'll stay unwed,
— For the kindness thou dost show to me. "

And she has bribed the proud warder
— Wi' mickle gold and white monie;
She's gotten the keys of the prison strang,
— And she has set young Beichan free.

She's gi'ndash him to eat the good spice-cake;
— She's gi'ndash him to drink the blude-red wine;
She's bidden him sometimes think on her
— That sae kindly freed him out o' pine.

And she has broken her finger ring,
— And to Beichan half of it gave she;
" Keep it to mind you of that love
— The lady bore that set you free.

" And set your foot on good ship-board,
— And haste ye back to your ain countrie;
And before that seven years have an end,
— Come back again, love, and marry me. "

But lang ere seven years had an end,
— She longed full sore her love to see;
So she's set her foot on good ship-board.
— And turned her back to her ain countrie.

She sailed east, she sailed west,
— Till to fair England's shore she came;
Where a bonny shepherd she espied,
— Feeding his sheep upon the plain.

" What news, what news, thou bonny shepherd?
— What news has thou to tell to me? "
" Such news I hear, ladie, " he says,
— " The like was never in this countrie.

" There is a wedding in yonder hall,
— And ever the bells ring merrilie;
It is Lord Beichan's wedding-day
— Wi' a lady fair o' high degree. "

She's putten her hand in her pocket,
— Gi'ndash him the gold and white monie;
" Here, take ye that, my bonny boy,
— All for the news thou tell'st to me. "

When she came to young Beichan's gate,
— She tirled softly at the pin:
So ready was the proud porter
— To open and let this lady in.

" Is this young Beichan's hall, " she said,
— " Or is that noble lord within? "
" Yea, he's in the hall among them all,
— And this is the day o' his weddin'. "

" And has he wed anither love?
— And has he clean forgotten me? "
And, sighin', said that ladie gay,
— " I wish I were in my ain countrie. "

And she has ta'ndash her gay gold ring,
— That with her love she brake sae free;
Says, " Gie him that, ye proud porter,
— And bid the bridegroom speak wi' me. "

When the porter came his lord before,
— He kneeled low upon his knee —
" What aileth thee, my proud porter,
— Thou art so full of courtesie? "

" I've been porter at your gates,
— It's now for thirty years and three;
But there stands a lady at them now,
— The like o' her did I never see;

" For on every finger she has a ring,
— And on her mid-finger she has three;
And meikle gold aboon her brow.
— Sae fair a may did I never see. "

It's out then spak the bride's mother,
— Aye and an angry woman was she:
" Ye might have excepted our bonny bride,
— And twa or three of our companie. "

" O haud your tongue, thou bride's mother,
— Of all your folly let me be;
She's ten times fairer nor the bride,
— And all that's in your companie.

" And this golden ring that's broken in twa,
— This half o' a golden ring sends she:
" Ye'll carry that to Lord Beichan," she says,
— " And bid him come an' spak wi' me."

" She begs one sheave of your white bread,
— But and a cup of your red wine;
And to remember the lady's love,
— That last relieved you out of pine. "

" O well-a-day! " said Beichan then,
— " That I so soon have married me!
For it can be none but Susie Pye,
— That for my love has sailed the sea. "

And quickly hied he down the stair;
— Of fifteen steps he made but three;
He's ta'ndash his bonny love in his arms,
— And kist, and kist her tenderlie.

" O hae ye ta'ndash anither bride?
— And hae ye quite forgotten me?
And hae ye quite forgotten her,
— That gave you life and libertie? "

She lookit o'er her left shoulder,
— To hide the tears stood in her e'e;
" Now fare thee well, young Beichan, " she says,
— " I'll try to think no more on thee. "

" O never, never, Susie Pye,
— For surely this can never be;
Nor ever shall I wed but her
— That's done and dreed so much for me. "

Then out and spak the forenoon bride:
— " My lord, your love it changeth soon;
This morning I was made your bride,
— And another's chose ere it be noon. "

" O haud thy tongue, thou forenoon bride;
— Ye're ne'er a whit the worse for me;
And whan ye return to your own land,
— A double dower I'll send wi' thee. "

He's ta'ndash Susie Pye by the white hand,
— And gently led her up and down;
And ay, as he kist her red rosy lips,
— " Ye're welcome, jewel, to your own. "

He's ta'ndash her by her milk-white hand,
— And led her to yon fountain stane;
He's changed her name from Susie Pye,
— And called her his bonny love, Lady Jane.