Steek yer een, my wee tot, ye'll see Daddy then; He's in below the bed claes, to cuddle ye he's fain; Noo nestle to his bosie, sleep and dream yer fill, Till Wee Davie Daylicht comes keekin' owre the hill. James Ferguson MOTHER-SONG (From "Prince Lucifer") WHITE little hands! Pink little feet! Dimpled all over, Sweet, sweet, sweet! What dost thou wail for? The unknown? the unseen? The ills that are coming, The joys that have been? Cling to me closer, Closer and closer, Till the pain that is purer Hath banished the grosser. Thy hunger is freeing, That was born in a dream, love, Little fingers that feel For their home on my breast, For their nurture, their rest! Till the dew of thy sleep, dear, Lies soft on thine eyes. Alfred Austin SEPHESTIA'S LULLABY (From "Menaphon") WEEP not, my wanton, smile upon my knee; thee. Mother's wag, pretty boy, Last his sorrow, first his joy. Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee; thee. Streaming tears that never stint, A Fell by course from his eyes, Father's sorrow, father's joy. Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee; When thou art old there's grief enough for thee. The wanton smiled, father wept, More he crowed, more we cried, He must go, he must kiss Father's sorrow, father's joy. Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee, When thou art old there's grief enough for thee. Robert Greene CRADLE SONG SLEEP, sleep, beauty bright, Sleep, sleep; in thy sleep Little sorrows sit and weep. Sweet babe, in thy face As thy softest limbs I feel O the cunning wiles that creep When thy little heart doth wake, Then the dreadful night shall break. LULLABY OF AN INFANT CHIEF O, HUSH thee, my babie, thy sire was a knight, Thy mother a lady, both lovely and bright; The woods and the glens, from the towers which we see, They are all belonging, dear babie, to thee. O ho ro, i ri ri, cadul gu lo. O, fear not the bugle, though loudly it blows, It calls but the warders that guard thy re pose; Their bows would be bended, their blades would be red, Ere the step of a foeman draws near to thy bed. O, hush thee, my babie, the time soon will come, When thy sleep shall be broken by trumpet and drum; Then hush thee, my darling, take rest while you may, For strife comes with manhood, and waking with day. O ho ro, i ri ri, cadul gu lo. Walter Scott |