VIII.

THE ROMAUNT OF ST. MARY’S WYND.

I.
Of Scotland’s cities, still the rarest
  Is ancient Edinburgh town;
And of her ladies, still the fairest
  There you see walk up and down: 
Be they gay, or be they gayless,
  There they beck and there they bow,
From the Castle to the Palace,
  In farthingale and furbelow.

Says Lady Jane to Lady Janet,
  “Thy gown, I vow, is stiff and grand;
Though there were feint a body in it,
  Still I trow that it would stand.” 
And Lady Janet makes rejoinder: 
  “Thy boddice, madam, is sae tend,
The bonny back may crack asunder,
  But, by my faith, it winna bend.”

But few knew one both fairer, kinder,
  The fair maid of St. Mary’s Wynd;
Among the great you will not find her,
  For she was of the humbler kind. 
For her minnie spinning, plodding,
  She wore no ribbons to her shune,
No mob-cap on her head nid-nodding,
  But aye the linsey-woolsey gown.

No Lady Jane in silks and laces,
  How fair soever she might be,
Could match the face—­the nature’s graces
  Of this poor, humble Marjorie: 
Her eyes they were baith mirk and merry,
  Her lire was as the lily fair,
Her lips were redder than the cherry,
  And flaxen was her glossy hair.

Ye bucks who wear the coats silk-braided,
  With satin ribbons at your knee,
And cambric ruffles starched and plaited,
  With cocked bonnets all ajee,
Who walk with mounted canes at even,
  Up and down so jauntilie,
Ye would have given a blink of heaven
  For one sweet smile from Marjorie.

But Marjory’s care was aye her minnie,
  And day by day she sat and span;
Nor did she think it aught but sin aye,
  To bear the stare of gentleman: 
She doated on her own dear Willie,
  For dear to her fond heart was he,
Who, though his sire was poor, yet still he
  Was far above the low degree.

It was aye said his father’s father
  Did claim some Spanish pedigree,
Which many well believed, the rather
  That he was not of our countrie: 
His skin was brown as nut of hazel,
  His eye was black as Scottish sloe,
And all so bright that it would dazzle
  The eye that looked that eye into.

There came into his head a notion,
  Which wrought and wrought within his brain,
That he would cross th’ Atlantic Ocean,
  And seek the land of Spanish Main;
And there amass a routh of treasure,
  And then come back with bosom leal
To his own Marjory, and release her
  From rock and reel and spinning wheel.

Up spake the minnie—­it did not please her
  That he should “gae sae far frae hame:” 
“Thou’lt reap less in yon Abiezer
  Than thou wilt glean in this Ephraim;
For there’s a proverb faileth never;
  A lintie safe within the hand,
Though lean and lank, is better ever
  Than is a fat finch on the wand.”