Part 7

30. 'O I'll gar burn for you, Maisry, Your father an' your mother; An' I'll gar burn for you, Maisry, Your sister an' your brother.

31. 'An' I'll gar burn for you, Maisry, The chief of a' your kin; An' the last bonfire that I come to, Mysel' I will cast in.'

[Annotations: 5.1: 'ha'd' = _haud_, hold. 9.2: 'mailison,' curse. 11.1: 'is aught,' owns. 15.4: 'forlorn,' forfeit. 20.2: _i.e._ in driving wind and rain. 21: A stock ballad-stanza. 22.2: 'baed,' stayed; 'chap,' knock. 22.4: 'lap,' leapt. 23.1: 'biggins,' buildings. 29.3: 'gleed,' burning coal, fire. 30.1: 'gar,' make, cause.]

THE CRUEL BROTHER

+The Text+ is that obtained in 1800 by Alexander Fraser Tytler from Mrs. Brown of Falkland, and by him committed to writing. The first ten and the last two stanzas show corruption, but the rest of the ballad is in the best style.

+The Story+ emphasises the necessity of asking the consent of a brother to the marriage of his sister, and therefore the title _The Cruel Brother_ is a misnomer. In ballad-times, the brother would have been well within his rights; it was rather a fatal oversight of the bridegroom that caused the tragedy.

Danish and German ballads echo the story, though in the commonest German ballad, _Graf Friedrich_, the bride receives an _accidental_ wound, and that from the bridegroom's own hand.

The testament of the bride, by which she benefits her friends and leaves curses on her enemies, is very characteristic of the ballad-style, and is found in other ballads, as _Lord Ronald_ and _Edward, Edward_. In the present case, 'sister Grace' obtains what would seem to be a very doubtful benefit.

THE CRUEL BROTHER

1. There was three ladies play'd at the ba', _With a hey ho and a lillie gay_ There came a knight and played o'er them a', _As the primrose spreads so sweetly_.

2. The eldest was baith tall and fair, But the youngest was beyond compare.

3. The midmost had a graceful mien, But the youngest look'd like beautie's queen.

4. The knight bow'd low to a' the three, But to the youngest he bent his knee.

5. The ladie turned her head aside; The knight he woo'd her to be his bride.

6. The ladie blush'd a rosy red, And say'd, 'Sir knight, I'm too young to wed.'

7. 'O ladie fair, give me your hand, And I'll make you ladie of a' my land.'

8. 'Sir knight, ere ye my favour win, You maun get consent frae a' my kin.'

9. He's got consent frae her parents dear, And likewise frae her sisters fair.

10. He's got consent frae her kin each one, But forgot to spiek to her brother John.

11. Now, when the wedding day was come, The knight would take his bonny bride home.

12. And many a lord and many a knight Came to behold that ladie bright.

13. And there was nae man that did her see, But wish'd himself bridegroom to be.

14. Her father dear led her down the stair, And her sisters twain they kiss'd her there.

15. Her mother dear led her thro' the closs, And her brother John set her on her horse.

16. She lean'd her o'er the saddle-bow, To give him a kiss ere she did go.

17. He has ta'en a knife, baith lang and sharp, And stabb'd that bonny bride to the heart.

18. She hadno ridden half thro' the town, Until her heart's blude stain'd her gown.

19. 'Ride softly on,' says the best young man, 'For I think our bonny bride looks pale and wan.'

20. 'O lead me gently up yon hill, And I'll there sit down, and make my will.'

21. 'O what will you leave to your father dear?' 'The silver-shod steed that brought me here.'

22. 'What will you leave to your mother dear?' 'My velvet pall and my silken gear.'

23. 'What will you leave to your sister Anne?' 'My silken scarf and my gowden fan.'

24. 'What will you leave to your sister Grace?' 'My bloody cloaths to wash and dress.'

25. 'What will you leave to your brother John?' 'The gallows-tree to hang him on.'

26. 'What will you leave to your brother John's wife?' 'The wilderness to end her life.'

27. This ladie fair in her grave was laid, And many a mass was o'er her said.

28. But it would have made your heart right sair, To see the bridegroom rive his hair.

1.2,4: It should be remembered that the refrain is supposed to be sung with each verse, here and elsewhere. 15.1: 'closs,' close. 28.2: 'rive,' tear.

THE NUTBROWN MAID

+The Text+ is from Arnold's _Chronicle_, of the edition which, from typographical evidence, is said to have been printed at Antwerp in 1502 by John Doesborowe. Each stanza is there printed in six long lines. Considerable variations appear in later editions. There is also a Balliol MS. (354), which contains a contemporary version, and the Percy Folio contains a corrupt version.

This should not be considered as a ballad proper; it is rather a 'dramatic lyric.' Its history, however, is quite as curious as that of many ballads. It occurs, as stated above, in the farrago known as the _Chronicle_ of Richard Arnold, inserted between a list of the 'tolls' due on merchandise entering or leaving the port of Antwerp, and a table giving Flemish weights and moneys in terms of the corresponding English measures. Why such a poem should be printed in such incongruous surroundings, what its date or who its author was, are questions impossible to determine. Its position here is perhaps almost as incongruous as in its original place.

From 3.9 to the end of the last verse but one, it is a dialogue between an earl's son and a baron's daughter, in alternate stanzas; a prologue and an epilogue are added by the author.

Matthew Prior printed the poem in his works, in order to contrast it with his own version, _Henry and Emma_, which appealed to contemporary taste as more elegant than its rude original.

THE NUTBROWN MAID

1. Be it right, or wrong, these men among On women do complaine; Affermyng this, how that it is A labour spent in vaine, To loue them wele; for neuer a dele, They loue a man agayne; For lete a man do what he can, Ther fouour to attayne, Yet, yf a newe to them pursue, Ther furst trew louer than Laboureth for nought; and from her though[t] He is a bannisshed man.

2. I say not nay, bat that all day It is bothe writ and sayde That womans fayth is as who saythe All utterly decayed; But neutheles, right good wytnes In this case might be layde; That they loue trewe, and contynew, Recorde the Nutbrowne maide: Which from her loue, whan, her to proue, He cam to make his mone, Wolde not departe, for in her herte, She louyd but hym allone.

3. Than betwene us lete us discusse, What was all the maner Betwene them too; we wyll also Tell all they payne in fere, That she was in; now I begynne, Soo that ye me answere; Wherfore, ye, that present be I pray you geue an eare. I am the knyght; I cum be nyght, As secret as I can; Sayng, alas! thus stondyth the cause, I am a bannisshed man.

4. And I your wylle for to fulfylle In this wyl not refuse; Trusting to shewe, in wordis fewe, That men haue an ille use To ther owne shame wymen to blame, And causeles them accuse; Therfore to you I answere nowe, All wymen to excuse,-- Myn owne hert dere, with you what chiere? I prey you, tell anoon; For, in my mynde, of all mankynde I loue but you allon.

5. It stondith so; a dede is do, Wherfore moche harme shal growe; My desteny is for to dey A shamful dethe, I trowe; Or ellis to flee: the ton must bee. None other wey I knowe, But to withdrawe as an outlaw, And take me to my bowe. Wherefore, adew, my owne hert trewe, None other red I can: For I muste to the grene wode goo, Alone a bannysshed man.

6. O Lorde, what is this worldis blisse, That chaungeth as the mone! My somers day in lusty may Is derked before the none. I here you saye farwel: nay, nay, We depart not soo sone. Why say ye so? wheder wyll ye goo? Alas! what haue ye done? Alle my welfare to sorow and care Shulde chaunge, yf ye were gon; For, in [my] mynde, of all mankynde I loue but you alone.

7. I can beleue, it shal you greue, And somwhat you distrayne; But, aftyrwarde, your paynes harde Within a day or tweyne Shall sone aslake; and ye shall take Comfort to you agayne. Why shuld ye nought? for, to make thought, Your labur were in vayne. And thus I do; and pray you, loo, As hertely as I can; For I must too the grene wode goo, Alone a banysshed man.

8. Now, syth that ye haue shewed to me The secret of your mynde, I shalbe playne to you agayne, Lyke as ye shal me fynde. Syth it is so, that ye wyll goo, I wol not leue behynde; Shall neuer be sayd, the Nutbrowne mayd, Was to her loue unkind: Make you redy, for soo am I, All though it were anoon; For, in my mynde, of all mankynde I loue but you alone.

9. Yet I you rede take good hede Whan men wyl thynke, and sey; Of yonge, and olde, it shalbe tolde, That ye be gone away, Your wanton wylle for to fulfylle, In grene wood you to play; And that ye myght from your delyte Noo lenger make delay: Rather than ye shuld thus for me Be called an ylle woman, Yet wolde I to the grene wodde goo, Alone a banyshed man.

10. Though it be songe of olde and yonge, That I shuld be to blame, Theirs be the charge, that speke so large In hurting of my name: For I wyl proue that feythful loue It is deuoyd of shame; In your distresse and heuynesse, To parte wyth you, the same: And sure all thoo, that doo not so, Trewe louers ar they noon; But, in my mynde, of all mankynde I loue but you alone.

11. I councel yow, remembre howe It is noo maydens lawe, Nothing to dought, but to renne out To wod with an outlawe; For ye must there in your hande bere A bowe to bere and drawe; And, as a theef, thus must ye lyeue, Euer in drede and awe, By whiche to yow gret harme myght grow: Yet had I leuer than, That I had too the grenewod goo, Alone a banysshyd man.

12. I thinke not nay, but as ye saye, It is noo maydens lore: But loue may make me for your sake, As ye haue said before To com on fote, to hunte, and shote, To gete us mete and store; For soo that I your company May haue, I aske noo more: From whiche to parte, it makith myn herte As colde as ony ston; For, in my mynde, of all mankynde I loue but you alone.

13. For an outlawe, this is the lawe, That men hym take and binde; Wythout pytee hanged to bee, And wauer with the wynde. Yf I had neede, (as God forbede!) What rescous coude ye finde? Forsothe, I trowe, you and your bowe Shuld drawe for fere behynde: And noo merueyle; for lytel auayle Were in your councel than: Wherfore I too the woode wyl goo Alone a banysshd man.

14. Ful wel knowe ye, that wymen bee Ful febyl for to fyght; Noo womanhed is it in deede To bee bolde as a knight: Yet, in suche fere, yf that ye were Amonge enemys day and nyght, I wolde wythstonde, with bowe in hande, To greue them as I myght, And you to saue; as wymen haue From deth many one: For, in my mynde, of all mankynde I loue but you alone.

15. Yet take good hede, for euer I drede That ye coude not sustein The thorney wayes, the depe valeis, The snowe, the frost, the reyn, The colde, the hete: for drye, or wete, We must lodge on the playn; And, us abowe, noon other roue But a brake bussh or twayne: Which sone shulde greue you, I beleue; And ye wolde gladly than That I had too the grenewode goo, Alone a banysshyd man.

16. Syth I haue here ben partynere With you of joy and blysse, I must also parte of your woo Endure, as reason is: Yet am I sure of oon plesure; And, shortly, it is this: That, where ye bee, me semeth, perde, I coude not fare amysse, Wythout more speche, I you beseche That we were soon agone; For, in my mynde, of all mankynde, I loue but you alone.

17. Yef ye goo thedyr, ye must consider, Whan ye haue lust to dyne Ther shal no mete before to gete, Nor drinke, beer, ale, ne wine; Ne shetis clene, to lye betwene, Made of thred and twyne; Noon other house but leuys and bowes To keuer your hed and myn, Loo, myn herte swete, this ylle dyet Shuld make you pale and wan; Wherfore I to the wood wyl goo, Alone, a banysshid man.

18. Amonge the wylde dere, suche an archier, As men say that ye bee, Ne may not fayle of good vitayle Where is so grete plente: And watir cleere of the ryuere Shalbe ful swete to me; Wyth whiche in hele I shal right wele Endure, as ye shal see; And, or we goo, a bed or twoo I can prouide anoon; For, in my mynde, of all mankynde I loue but you alone.

19. Loo, yet before ye must doo more, Yf ye wyl goo with me; As cutte your here up by your ere, Your kirtel by the knee; Wyth bowe in hande, for to withstonde Your enmys, yf nede bee: And this same nyght before daylyght, To woodwarde wyl I flee. And ye wyl all this fulfylle, Doo it shortely as ye can: Ellis wil I to the grenewode goo, Alone, a banysshyd man.

20. I shal as now do more for you That longeth to womanhed; To short my here, a bowe to bere, To shote in tyme of nede. O my swete mod[er], before all other For you haue I most drede: But now, adiew! I must ensue Wher fortune duth me leede. All this make ye: now lete us flee; The day cum fast upon; For, in my mynde, of all mankynde I loue but you alone.

21. Nay, nay, not soo; ye shal not goo, And I shal telle you why,-- Your appetyte is to be lyght Of loue, I wele aspie: For, right as ye haue sayd to me, In lyke wyse hardely Ye wolde answere who so euer it were, In way of company. It is sayd of olde, sone hote, sone colde; And so is a woman. Wherfore I too the woode wly goo, Alone, a banysshid man.

22. Yef ye take hede, yet is noo nede Suche wordis to say by me; For ofte ye preyd, and longe assayed, Or I you louid, parde: And though that I of auncestry A barons doughter bee, Yet haue you proued how I you loued A squyer of lowe degree; And euer shal, whatso befalle-- To dey therfore anoon; For, in my mynde, of al mankynde I loue but you alone.

23. A barons childe to be begyled, It were a curssed dede; To be felow with an outlawe, Almyghty God forbede. Yet bettyr were the power squyere Alone to forest yede, Than ye shal saye another day, That, be [my] wyked dede, Ye were betrayed: wherfore, good maide, The best red that I can, Is, that I too the grenewode goo, Alone, a banysshed man.

24. Whatso euer befalle, I neuer shal Of this thing you upbrayd: But yf ye goo, and leue me soo, Than haue ye me betraied. Remembre you wele, how that ye dele For, yf ye as the[y] sayd, Be so unkynde, to leue behynde Your loue, the notbrowne maide, Trust me truly, that I [shall] dey Sone after ye be gone; For, in my mynde, of all mankynde I loue but you alone.

25. Yef that ye went, ye shulde repent; For in the forest nowe I haue purueid me of a maide, Whom I loue more than you; Another fayrer, than euer ye were, I dare it wel auowe; And of you bothe eche shulde be wrothe With other, as I trowe; It were myn ease, to lyue in pease, So wyl I, yf I can: Wherfore I to the wode wyl goo, Alone a banysshid man.

26. Though in the wood I undirstode Ye had a paramour, All this may nought reineue my thought, But that I wil be your; And she shal fynde me soft and kynde, And curteis euery our; Glad to fulfylle all that she wylle Commaunde me to my power: For had ye, loo, an hundred moo, Yet wolde I be that one, For, in my mynde, of all mankynde, I loue but you alone.

27. Myn owne dere loue, I see the proue That ye be kynde and trewe, Of mayde, and wyf, in al my lyf, The best that euer I knewe. Be mery and glad, be no more sad, The case is chaunged newe; For it were ruthe, that, for your trouth, Ye shuld haue cause to rewe. Be not dismayed; whatsoeuer I sayd To you, whan I began, I wyl not too the grene wod goo, I am noo banysshyd man.

28. This tidingis be more glad to me, Than to be made a quene, Yf I were sure they shuld endure; But it is often seen, When men wyl breke promyse, they speke The wordis on the splene; Ye shape some wyle me to begyle And stele fro me, I wene: Than were the case wurs than it was, And I more woobegone: For, in my mynde, of al mankynde I loue but you alone.

29. Ye shal not nede further to drede; I wyl not disparage You, (God defende!) syth you descend Of so grete a lynage. Now understonde; to Westmerlande, Whiche is my herytage, I wyl you brynge; and wyth a rynge, By wey of maryage I wyl you take, and lady make, As shortly as I can: Thus haue ye wone an erles son And not a banysshyd man.

30. Here may ye see, that wymen be In loue, meke, kinde, and stable; Late neuer man repreue them than, Or calle them variable; But rather prey God that we may To them be comfortable; Whiche somtyme prouyth suche as loueth, Yf they be charitable. For sith men wolde that wymen sholde Be meke to them echeon, Moche more ought they to God obey, And serue but Hym alone.

[Annotations: 1.1: 'among,' from time to time. 1.5: 'neuer a dele,' not at all. 3.4: 'they' = the. 'in fere,' in company. 'and fere' (= fear) is usually printed. 5.1: 'do,' done. 5.5: 'ton,' one. 5.10: _i.e._ I know no other advice. 6.4: 'derked,' darkened. 6.7: 'wheder,' whither. 7.2: 'distrayne,' affect. 7.5: 'aslake,' abate. 10.9: 'thoo,' those. 11.3: 'renne,' run. 11.6: A later edition of the _Chronicle_ reads-- 'A bowe, redy to drawe.' 13.6: 'rescous,' rescue. Another edition has 'socurs.' 15.7: 'abowe,' above; 'roue,' roof. 18.7: 'hele,' health. 19.3: 'here,' hair; 'ere,' ear. 19.9: 'And,' If. 20.7: 'ensue,' follow. 22.2: The type is broken in the 1502 edition, which reads 'to say be....' 23.6: 'yede,' went. 25.3: 'purueid (= purveyed) me,' provided myself. 26.9: 'moo' = mo, _i.e._ more. 30.10: 'echeon,' each one.]

FAIR JANET

+The Text.+--Of seven or eight variants of this ballad, only three preserve the full form of the story. On the whole, the one here given--from Sharp's _Ballad Book_, as sung by an old woman in Perthshire--is the best, as the other two--from Herd's _Scots Songs_, and the Kinloch MSS.--are slightly contaminated by extraneous matter.

+The Story+ is a simple ballad-tale of 'true-love twinned'; but the episode of the dancing forms a link with a number of German and Scandinavian ballads, in which compulsory dancing and horse-riding is made a test of the guilt of an accused maiden. In the Scotch ballad the horse-riding has shrunk almost to nothing, and the dancing is not compulsory. The resemblance is faint, and the barbarities of the Continental versions are happily wanting in our ballad.

FAIR JANET

1. 'Ye maun gang to your father, Janet, Ye maun gang to him soon; Ye maun gang to your father, Janet, In case that his days are dune.'

2. Janet's awa' to her father, As fast as she could hie: 'O what's your will wi' me, father? O what's your will wi' me?'

3. 'My will wi' you, Fair Janet,' he said, 'It is both bed and board; Some say that ye lo'e Sweet Willie, But ye maun wed a French lord.'

4. 'A French lord maun I wed, father? A French lord maun I wed? Then, by my sooth,' quo' Fair Janet, 'He's ne'er enter my bed.'

5. Janet's awa' to her chamber, As fast as she could go; Wha's the first ane that tapped there, But Sweet Willie her jo?

6. 'O we maun part this love, Willie, That has been lang between; There's a French lord coming o'er the sea, To wed me wi' a ring; There's a French lord coming o'er the sea, To wed and tak' me hame.'

7. 'If we maun part this love, Janet, It causeth mickle woe; If we maun part this love, Janet, It makes me into mourning go.'

8. 'But ye maun gang to your three sisters, Meg, Marion, and Jean; Tell them to come to Fair Janet, In case that her days are dune.'

9. Willie's awa' to his three sisters, Meg, Marion, and Jean: 'O haste, and gang to Fair Janet, I fear that her days are dune.'

10. Some drew to them their silken hose, Some drew to them their shoon, Some drew to them their silk manteils, Their coverings to put on, And they're awa' to Fair Janet, By the hie light o' the moon.

... ... ...

11. 'O I have born this babe, Willie, Wi' mickle toil and pain; Take hame, take hame, your babe, Willie, For nurse I dare be nane.'

12. He's tane his young son in his arms, And kisst him cheek and chin, And he's awa' to his mother's bower, By the hie light o' the moon.

13. 'O open, open, mother,' he says, 'O open, and let me in; The rain rains on my yellow hair, And the dew drops o'er my chin, And I hae my young son in my arms, I fear that his days are dune.'

14. With her fingers lang and sma' She lifted up the pin, And with her arms lang and sma' Received the baby in.

15. 'Gae back, gae back now, Sweet Willie, And comfort your fair lady; For where ye had but ae nourice, Your young son shall hae three.'

16. Willie he was scarce awa', And the lady put to bed, When in and came her father dear: 'Make haste, and busk the bride.'

17. 'There's a sair pain in my head, father, There's a sair pain in my side; And ill, O ill, am I, father, This day for to be a bride.'

18. 'O ye maun busk this bonny bride, And put a gay mantle on; For she shall wed this auld French lord, Gin she should die the morn.'

19. Some put on the gay green robes, And some put on the brown; But Janet put on the scarlet robes, To shine foremost throw the town.

20. And some they mounted the black steed, And some mounted the brown; But Janet mounted the milk-white steed, To ride foremost throw the town.

21. 'O wha will guide your horse, Janet? O wha will guide him best?' 'O wha but Willie, my true love? He kens I lo'e him best.'

22. And when they cam' to Marie's kirk, To tye the haly ban', Fair Janet's cheek looked pale and wan, And her colour gaed and cam'.

23. When dinner it was past and done, And dancing to begin, 'O we'll go take the bride's maidens, And we'll go fill the ring.'

24. O ben then cam' the auld French lord, Saying, 'Bride, will ye dance with me?' 'Awa', awa', ye auld French Lord, Your face I downa see.'

25. O ben then cam' now Sweet Willie, He cam' with ane advance: 'O I'll go tak' the bride's maidens, And we'll go tak' a dance.'

26. 'I've seen ither days wi' you, Willie, And so has mony mae, Ye would hae danced wi' me mysel', Let a' my maidens gae.'

27. O ben then cam' now Sweet Willie, Saying, 'Bride, will ye dance wi' me?' 'Aye, by my sooth, and that I will, Gin my back should break in three.'

28. She had nae turned her throw the dance, Throw the dance but thrice, Whan she fell doun at Willie's feet, And up did never rise.

29. Willie's ta'en the key of his coffer, And gi'en it to his man: 'Gae hame, and tell my mother dear My horse he has me slain; Bid her be kind to my young son, For father has he nane.'