|
|||||||||||
 |
|||||||||||
  |
|||||||||||
 |
 |
 |
|||||||||
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|||
|
|
|
|
THE GYPSIES’ LAMENT©by Gabrielle Griswold ('44)Down, down, the gypsy came From the north where the curlew cries, Her skirts ablaze with spangles, And the love light in her eyes, Down to the southern waters ‘Neath windswept southern skies, Her heart dancing a saraband, And the love light in her eyes, To meet her pirate lover Back from the Spanish Main, And bring him news of the counties And lie in his arms again. “Tis I, my bonny sweetheart, Back from the Spanish main, With my ship’s hold filled with treasure, And I in thy arms again. “With pearls I’ll braid thy tresses, With rubies thy gowns deck, Gold rings upon thy fingers, Gold chains around thy neck. “But first a kiss, a quaff of ale, And a toast to the Spanish main, Ere we sail away tomorrow Where we’ll ne’er know want again.” But the daylight scarce was fading When the evil tidings came: The king was hot for pirate gold, And for pirate blood the same. “He’ll hunt us through the counties To the kingdom’s very bourn Unless we take to the sea again. We’d best set sail at morn.” But the king’s men soon came riding, Bound straight for the tavern door. Ere the twain had sought their chamber, They could hear the hoof-beats roar. “It’s us for a horse of fire, lass, And a race to a farther shore. We’ll board for France where the English king Can harry us no more.” Up sprang they to their saddles, Their treasure left behind Save for the pearls around her neck He’d just had time to wind. Across the moors they galloped, The king’s men followed fast. It was a race for life or death, A contest to the last. Nearer the fateful shore they came, And there a trap was set By a trait’rous dog who loved the lass But the pirate would forget. “I’ll save thee, lass, if thou wilt stay With me and let him go,” So spake the cur, but she Reviled him and said no. “Not for the world would I My loyal love desert, Least for a cur like thee Who grovels in the dirt! “I’ll live in freedom with my love Or die, if needs must be, But I’ll not gratify thy lust Nor thy false heart,” spat she. The time they lost, lost them also, And the king’s men caught up fast, Gaining, while they’d still miles to go, And captured them at last. No laggards, they their weapons drew, His sword and her swift dagger, And all around them king’s men slew, Whose death ended their swagger. But numbers finally won the day, As sadly must be told (And never will the truth be known Who made off with the gold). “Our cause is lost!” the pirate cried, Then round her his arms threw. Down, down, they fell together, Still free, their love still true. “It was a noble try,” he breathed. “I’d hoped to spare thee pain, But after this in t’other’s arms We ne’er shall lie again.” From all around the people flocked Who’d heard what came to pass And mourned the loyal lovers As they bled into the grass. The Romany still mourn them Up north where the curlew cries, And ne’er forget the gypsy lass With love light in her eyes. And sometimes in the southern grass Someone, with mild surprise, Still chances on an errant pearl -- And ponders how love dies. |
|
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
||||
|
|
|
||
