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EBBA 31183

British Library - Roxburghe
Ballad XSLT Template
A Delectable [New BALLAD,] INTITULED,
Leader-Haughs and Yarow.
To its own Proper Tune.

WHen PHOEBUS bright, the Azure Skies
with golden rayes enlightneth
These things Sublunar he espies;
[Herbs, Trees] and Plants he quickneth:
Among all tho[se he] makes [his choise,]
And gladly goes he thorow,
With Radiant Beams, and Silver streams,
Through Leader-Haughs and [Yarow.]

When Aries, t[he] day and night
[In] equal length divideth,
Old [frosty] Saturn takes the flight,
No longer he abideth:
Then Flora Queen, with Mantle green,
Casts off her former sorrow,
And vows to dwell with Caeres sell
In Leader Haughs and Yarow.

Pan playing on his Oaten reed,
with Sheepherds him attending,
Doth here resort their flocks to feed,
The Hill, and Haughs commending:
With bottle, bag, and staff with knag,
and all singing good Morrow,
They swear no Fields more pleasure yields,
Then Leader Haught and Yarow.

One House there stands on [Lead]er side
Surmounting my descryving,
With Ease rooms rair, and Windows fair,
Like Daedalus contriving:
Men passing by, do often say
In South it has no marrow;
It stands as fair on Leader side
As Newwark does on Yarow

A mile below, who list to ride,
Theyl heare the Mavis singing,
Into St. Leonards bank shel bide,
Sweet Birks her head or hinging:
The Lint white loud, and progne proud,
With tender throats and narrow,
Into St. Leonards banks do sing
As sweetly as in Yarow.

The Lapwing lilteth or the Lie,
With nimble wings she sporteth,
But vowes shel not come near the Tree
Where philomel resorteth:
By break of day, the Lark can say,
Ie bid you all good morrow,
Ile yout and yell, for I may dwell
In Leader Haughs and Yarow.

Parke, wanton walls, and wooden cleugh,
The East and Wester Mainses,
The Forrest of Lawders fair enough,
The Corns are good in blanslies;
Where Oats are fine and sold by kind,
That if ye search all thorow
Mearns, buchan, Marr, none better are,
Then Leader Haughs and Yarow.

In burn Milne boge, and whitstead Shawes,
The fearful Hare she haunteth,
Bridge haugh and broad wood shiel she knawes
To the chapel wood frequenteth:
Yet when she irks, to Kaidstie Birks,
She runs and sighs for sorrow,
That she should leave sweet Leader Haughs
And cannot win to Yarow.

What sweeter Musick would ye hear,
The[n hounds and Bieglies crying,]
The [Hare waits not but flees for fe]ar,
[their hard pursuit defying,]
[But yet her strength it fails] at length,
[no bielding can she] borrow,
[At Haggs Clockmas nor] Sortlesfield
[but longs to] be at Yarow,

[For Rackwood, Ringwood] Rival, Aymer,
[still thinking] for [to] view her,
[But O! to fail her strength] begins,
[no cu]nning can rescue her:
Oer [du]bbe and dike, or seugh and syke,
Shel run the fields all thorow,
Yet ends her dayes in Leader Haughs,
And bids farewell to Yarow.

Thou Ersington and Colden knowes,
Where Humes had once commanding,
And Dry Grange with thy milk white Ewes,
Twixt Tweed and Leader standing:
The Birds that flees through Rid path trees
And Gledswood banks all thorow,
May Chant and Sing, sweet Leader Haughs,
And the bony Banks of Yarow.

But BURN cannot his grief asswage,
While as his dayes endureth,
To see the Changes of this Age,
Which day and time procureth;
For many a place stands in hard case.
Where Burns were blyth beforrow,
With Humes that dwelt on Leader side,
And Scots that dwelt in Yarow.

The words of BURN the Violer.

What? shall my Viol silent be,
or leave her wonted Scriding?
But choise some sadder Elegie,
Not Sports and Mirds deriding:
It must be faine with lower strain,
Then it was wont beforrow,
To sound the praise of Leader Haughs,
And the bony Banks of Yarow.

But floods has overflown the Banks,
The greenish Haughs disgracing,
And Trees in Woods grows thin in ranks
About the fields defacing:
For Waters waxes, Woods do waind;
More, if I could for sorrow,
In rural verse, I could rehearse,
Of Leader Haughs and Yarow.

But sighs and sobs orsets my breath,
Sore saltish tears forth sending,
All things Sublunar here on Earth
Are subject to an ending:
So must my Song, though some what long,
Yet late at even and Morrow,
Ile sigh and sing, sweet Leader Haughs,
And the bony Banks of YAROW.

Hic terminus h[are]t.


FINIS.

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