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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=507638" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Heather Ale: A Galloway Legend</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">From the bonny bells of heather <br>They brewed a drink long-syne, <br>Was sweeter far than honey, <br>Was stronger far than wine. <br>They brewed it and they drank it, <br>And lay in a blessed swound <br>For days and days together <br>In their dwellings underground. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">There rose a king in Scotland, <br>A fell man to his foes, <br>He smote the Picts in battle, <br>He hunted them like roes. <br>Over miles of the red mountain <br>He hunted as they fled, <br>And strewed the dwarfish bodies <br>Of the dying and the dead. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Summer came in the country, <br>Red was the heather bell; <br>But the manner of the brewing <br>Was none alive to tell. <br>In graves that were like children’s <br>On many a mountain head, <br>The Brewsters of the Heather <br>Lay numbered with the dead. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The king in the red moorland <br>Rode on a summer’s day; <br>And the bees hummed, and the curlews <br>Cried beside the way. <br>The king rode, and was angry; <br>Black was his brow and pale, <br>To rule in a land of heather <br>And lack the Heather Ale. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">It fortuned that his vassals, <br>Riding free on the heath, <br>Came on a stone that was fallen <br>And vermin hid beneath. <br>Rudely plucked from their hiding, <br>Never a word they spoke: <br>A son and his aged father— <br>Last of the dwarfish folk. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The king sat high on his charger, <br>He looked on the little men; <br>And the dwarfish and swarthy couple <br>Looked at the king again. <br>Down by the shore he had them; <br>And there on the giddy brink— <br>“I will give you life, ye vermin, <br>For the secret of the drink.” </div><div style="margin:10px 0">There stood the son and father <br>And they looked high and low; <br>The heather was red around them, <br>The sea rumbled below. <br>And up and spoke the father, <br>Shrill was his voice to hear: <br>“I have a word in private, <br>A word for the royal ear. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Life is dear to the aged, <br>And honor a little thing; <br>I would gladly sell the secret,” <br>Quoth the Pict to the King. <br>His voice was small as a sparrow’s, <br>And shrill and wonderful clear: <br>“I would gladly sell my secret, <br>Only my son I fear. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">“For life is a little matter, <br>And death is nought to the young; <br>And I dare not sell my honor <br>Under the eye of my son. <br>Take him, O king, and bind him, <br>And cast him far in the deep; <br>And it ’s I will tell the secret <br>That I have sworn to keep.” </div><div style="margin:10px 0">They took the son and bound him, <br>Neck and heels in a thong, <br>And a lad took him and swung him, <br>And flung him far and strong, <br>And the sea swallowed his body, <br>Like that of a child of ten;— <br>And there on the cliff stood the father, <br>Last of the dwarfish men. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">“True was the word I told you: <br>Only my son I feared; <br>For I doubt the sapling courage <br>That goes without the beard. <br>But now in vain is the torture, <br>Fire shall never avail: <br>Here dies in my bosom <br>The secret of Heather Ale.”</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Robert+Louis+Stevenson">Robert Louis Stevenson</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=507638" data-title="Heather Ale: A Galloway Legend de Robert Louis Stevenson" data-description="From the bonny bells of heather They brewed a drink long-syne, Was sweeter far than honey, Was stronger far than wine. They brewed it and they drank it, And lay in a blessed swound For days and days together In their dwellings underground. ..."></div> </div> </div>
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