Chapter 6

12. They lighted down to tak' a drink Of the spring that ran sae clear: And down the stream ran his gude heart's blood, And sair she gan to fear.

13. 'Hold up, hold up, Lord William,' she says, 'For I fear that you are slain!' ''Tis naething but the shadow of my scarlet cloak, That shines in the water sae plain.'

14. O they rade on, and on they rade, And a' by the light of the moon, Until they cam' to his mother's ha' door, And there they lighted down.

15. 'Get up, get up, lady mother,' he says, 'Get up, and let me in! Get up, get up, lady mother,' he says, 'For this night my fair ladye I've win.

16. 'O mak' my bed, lady mother,' he says, 'O mak' it braid and deep, And lay Lady Margret close at my back, And the sounder I will sleep.'

17. Lord William was dead lang ere midnight, Lady Margret lang ere day, And all true lovers that go thegither, May they have mair luck than they!

18. Lord William was buried in St. Mary's kirk, Lady Margret in Mary's quire; Out o' the lady's grave grew a bonny red rose, And out o' the knight's a briar.

19. And they twa met, and they twa plat, And fain they wad be near; And a' the warld might ken right weel, They were twa lovers dear.

20. But bye and rade the Black Douglas, And wow but he was rough! For he pull'd up the bonny brier, And flang't in St. Mary's Loch.

[Annotations: 8.3: 'dighted,' dressed.]

THE CHILD OF ELL

(_Fragment: from the Percy Folio_)

1. ... ... ... ... ... ... Sayes, 'Christ thee saue, good child of Ell, Christ saue thee & thy steede!

2. 'My father sayes he will noe meate, Nor his drinke shall doe him noe good, Till he haue slaine the child of Ell, & haue seene his hart's blood.'

3. 'I wold I were in my sadle sett, & a mile out of the towne, I did not care for your father & all his merrymen.

4. 'I wold I were in my sadle sett & a litle space him froe, I did not care for your father & all that long him to!'

5. He leaned ore his saddle bow, To kisse this lady good; The teares that went them 2 betweene Were blend water & blood.

6. He sett himselfe on one good steed, This lady on one palfray, & sett his litle horne to his mouth, & roundlie he rode away.

7. He had not ridden past a mile, A mile out of the towne, Her father was readye with her 7 brether, He said, 'Sett thou my daughter downe! For it ill beseemes thee, thou false churles sonne, To carry her forth of this towne!'

8. 'But lowd thou lyest, Sir Iohn the Knight, Thou now doest lye of me; A knight me gott, & a lady me bore; Soe neuer did none by thee.

9. 'But light now downe, my lady gay, Light downe & hold my horsse, Whilest I & your father & your brether Doe play vs at this crosse.

10. 'But light now downe, my owne trew loue, & meeklye hold my steede, Whilest your father [and your brether] bold ... ... ...

[Annotations: 1.3: The maiden is speaking. 5.4: 'blend,' blended, mixed. 6.2: 'on': the MS. gives 'of.' 10.3: The rest (about nine stt.) is missing.]

LORD THOMAS AND FAIR ANNET

+The Text+ is from Percy's _Reliques_ (vol. ii., 1765: vol. iii., 1767). In the latter edition he also gives the English version of the ballad earlier in the same volume.

+The Story.+--This ballad, as it is one of the most beautiful, is also one of the most popular. It should be compared with _Fair Margaret and Sweet William_, in which the forlorn maid dies of grief, not by the hand of her rival.

A series of Norse ballads tell much the same tale, but in none is the 'friends' will' a crucial point. Chansons from Burgundy, Bretagne, Provence, and northern Italy, faintly echo the story.

Lord Thomas his mither says that Fair Annet has no 'gowd and gear'; yet later on we find that Annet's father can provide her with a horse shod with silver and gold, and four-and-twenty silver bells in his mane; she is attended by a large company, her cleading skinkles, and her belt is of pearl.

LORD THOMAS AND FAIR ANNET

1. Lord Thomas and Fair Annet Sate a' day on a hill; Whan night was cum, and sun was sett, They had not talkt their fill.

2. Lord Thomas said a word in jest, Fair Annet took it ill: 'A, I will nevir wed a wife Against my ain friends' will.'

3. 'Gif ye wull nevir wed a wife, A wife wull neir wed yee': Sae he is hame to tell his mither, And knelt upon his knee.

4. 'O rede, O rede, mither,' he says, 'A gude rede gie to mee: O sall I tak the nut-browne bride, And let Faire Annet bee?'

5. 'The nut-browne bride haes gowd and gear, Fair Annet she has gat nane; And the little beauty Fair Annet haes, O it wull soon be gane.'

6. And he has till his brother gane: 'Now, brother, rede ye mee; A, sall I marrie the nut-browne bride, And let Fair Annet bee?'

7. 'The nut-browne bride has oxen, brother, The nut-browne bride has kye: I wad hae ye marrie the nut-browne bride, And cast Fair Annet bye.'

8. 'Her oxen may dye i' the house, billie, And her kye into the byre, And I sall hae nothing to mysell Bot a fat fadge by the fyre.'

9. And he has till his sister gane: 'Now sister, rede ye mee; O sall I marrie the nut-browne bride, And set Fair Annet free?'

10. 'I'se rede ye tak Fair Annet, Thomas, And let the browne bride alane; Lest ye sould sigh, and say, Alace, What is this we brought hame!'

11. 'No, I will tak my mither's counsel, And marrie me owt o' hand; And I will tak the nut-browne bride; Fair Annet may leive the land.'

12. Up then rose Fair Annet's father, Twa hours or it wer day, And he is gane into the bower Wherein Fair Annet lay.

13. 'Rise up, rise up, Fair Annet,' he says, 'Put on your silken sheene; Let us gae to St. Marie's kirke, And see that rich weddeen.'

14. 'My maides, gae to my dressing-roome, And dress to me my hair; Whaireir yee laid a plait before, See yee lay ten times mair.

15. 'My maides, gae to my dressing-room, And dress to me my smock; The one half is o' the holland fine, The other o' needle-work.'

16. The horse Fair Annet rade upon, He amblit like the wind; Wi' siller he was shod before, Wi' burning gowd behind.

17. Four and twanty siller bells Wer a' tyed till his mane, And yae tift o' the norland wind, They tinkled ane by ane.

18. Four and twanty gay gude knichts Rade by Fair Annet's side, And four and twanty fair ladies, As gin she had bin a bride.

19. And whan she cam to Marie's kirk, She sat on Marie's stean: The cleading that Fair Annet had on It skinkled in their een.

20. And whan she cam into the kirk, She shimmered like the sun; The belt that was about her waist, Was a' wi' pearles bedone.

21. She sat her by the nut-browne bride, And her een they wer sae clear, Lord Thomas he clean forgat the bride, Whan Fair Annet drew near.

22. He had a rose into his hand, He gae it kisses three, And reaching by the nut-browne bride, Laid it on Fair Annet's knee.

23. Up than spak the nut-browne bride, She spak wi' meikle spite: 'And whair gat ye that rose-water, That does mak yee sae white?'

24. 'O I did get the rose-water Whair ye wull neir get nane, For I did get that very rose-water Into my mither's wame.'

25. The bride she drew a long bodkin Frae out her gay head-gear, And strake Fair Annet unto the heart, That word spak nevir mair.

26. Lord Thomas he saw Fair Annet wex pale, And marvelit what mote bee; But whan he saw her dear heart's blude, A' wood-wroth wexed hee.

27. He drew his dagger, that was sae sharp, That was sae sharp and meet, And drave it into the nut-browne bride, That fell deid at his feit.

28. 'Now stay for me, dear Annet,' he sed, 'Now stay, my dear,' he cry'd; Then strake the dagger untill his heart, And fell deid by her side.

29. Lord Thomas was buried without kirk-wa', Fair Annet within the quiere, And o' the tane thair grew a birk, The other a bonny briere.

30. And ay they grew, and ay they threw, As they wad faine be neare; And by this ye may ken right weil They were twa luvers deare.

[Annotations: 4.1: 'rede,' advise. 4.3: 'nut-browne' here = dusky, not fair; cp.:-- 'In the old age black was not counted fair.' --Shakespeare, _Sonnet_ CXXVII. 8.4: 'fadge,' _lit._ a thick cake; here figuratively for the thick-set 'nut-browne bride.' 17.3: 'yae tift,' [at] every puff. 19.2: 'stean,' stone. 19.3: 'cleading,' clothing. 19.4: 'skinkled,' glittered. 24.3,4: _i.e._ I was born fair. 26.4: 'wood-wroth,' raging mad. 29, 30: This conclusion to a tragic tale of true-love is common to many ballads; see _Fair Margaret and Sweet William_ and especially _Lord Lovel_. 30.1: 'threw,' intertwined.]

THE BROWN GIRL

+The Text+ of this ballad was taken down before the end of the nineteenth century by the Rev. S. Baring Gould, from a blacksmith at Thrushleton, Devon.

+The Story+ is a simple little tale which recalls _Barbara Allen_, _Clerk Sanders_, _Lord Thomas and Fair Annet_, and others. I have placed it here for contrast, and in illustration of the disdain of 'brown' maids.

THE BROWN GIRL

1. 'I am as brown as brown can be, And my eyes as black as sloe; I am as brisk as brisk can be, And wild as forest doe.

2. 'My love he was so high and proud, His fortune too so high, He for another fair pretty maid Me left and passed me by.

3. 'Me did he send a love-letter, He sent it from the town, Saying no more he loved me, For that I was so brown.

4. 'I sent his letter back again, Saying his love I valued not, Whether that he would fancy me, Whether that he would not.

5. 'When that six months were overpass'd, Were overpass'd and gone, Then did my lover, once so bold, Lie on his bed and groan.

6. 'When that six months were overpass'd, Were gone and overpass'd, O then my lover, once so bold, With love was sick at last.

7. 'First sent he for the doctor-man: "You, doctor, me must cure; The pains that now do torture me I can not long endure."

8. 'Next did he send from out the town, O next did send for me; He sent for me, the brown, brown girl Who once his wife should be.

9. 'O ne'er a bit the doctor-man His sufferings could relieve; O never an one but the brown, brown girl Who could his life reprieve.'

10. Now you shall hear what love she had For this poor love-sick man, How all one day, a summer's day, She walked and never ran.

11. When that she came to his bedside, Where he lay sick and weak, O then for laughing she could not stand Upright upon her feet.

12. 'You flouted me, you scouted me, And many another one, Now the reward is come at last, For all that you have done.'

13. The rings she took from off her hands, The rings by two and three: 'O take, O take these golden rings, By them remember me.'

14. She had a white wand in her hand, She strake him on the breast: 'My faith and troth I give back to thee, So may thy soul have rest.'

15. 'Prithee,' said he, 'forget, forget, Prithee forget, forgive; O grant me yet a little space, That I may be well and live.'

16. 'O never will I forget, forgive, So long as I have breath; I'll dance above your green, green grave Where you do lie beneath.'

FAIR MARGARET AND SWEET WILLIAM

+The Text+ is from a broadside in the Douce Ballads, with a few unimportant corrections from other stall-copies, as printed by Percy and Ritson.

+The Story+ is much the same as _Lord Thomas and Fair Annet_, except in the manner of Margaret's death.

None of the known copies of the ballad are as early in date as _The Knight of the Burning Pestle_ (a play by Beaumont and Fletcher, first produced, it is said, in 1611), in which the humorous old Merrythought sings two fragments of this ballad; stanza 5 in Act II. Sc. 8, and the first two lines of stanza 2 in Act III. Sc. 5. As there given, the lines are slightly different.

The last four stanzas of this ballad again present the stock ending, for which see the introduction to _Lord Lovel_. The last stanza condemns itself.

FAIR MARGARET AND SWEET WILLIAM

1. As it fell out on a long summer's day, Two lovers they sat on a hill; They sat together that long summer's day, And could not talk their fill.

2. 'I see no harm by you, Margaret, Nor you see none by me; Before tomorrow eight a clock A rich wedding shall you see.'

3. Fair Margaret sat in her bower-window, A combing of her hair, And there she spy'd Sweet William and his bride, As they were riding near.

4. Down she lay'd her ivory comb, And up she bound her hair; She went her way forth of her bower, But never more did come there.

5. When day was gone, and night was come, And all men fast asleep, Then came the spirit of Fair Margaret, And stood at William's feet.

6. 'God give you joy, you two true lovers, In bride-bed fast asleep; Loe I am going to my green grass grave, And am in my winding-sheet.'

7. When day was come, and night was gone, And all men wak'd from sleep, Sweet William to his lady said, 'My dear, I have cause to weep.

8. 'I dream'd a dream, my dear lady; Such dreams are never good; I dream'd my bower was full of red swine, And my bride-bed full of blood.'

9. 'Such dreams, such dreams, my honoured lord, They never do prove good, To dream thy bower was full of swine, And thy bride-bed full of blood.'

10. He called up his merry men all, By one, by two, and by three, Saying, 'I'll away to Fair Margaret's bower, By the leave of my lady.'

11. And when he came to Fair Margaret's bower, He knocked at the ring; So ready was her seven brethren To let Sweet William in.

12. He turned up the covering-sheet: 'Pray let me see the dead; Methinks she does look pale and wan, She has lost her cherry red.

13. 'I'll do more for thee, Margaret, Than any of thy kin; For I will kiss thy pale wan lips, Tho' a smile I cannot win.'

14. With that bespeak her seven brethren, Making most pitious moan: 'You may go kiss your jolly brown bride, And let our sister alone.'

15. 'If I do kiss my jolly brown bride, I do but what is right; For I made no vow to your sister dear, By day or yet by night.

16. 'Pray tell me then how much you'll deal Of your white bread and your wine; So much as is dealt at her funeral today Tomorrow shall be dealt at mine.'

17. Fair Margaret dy'd today, today, Sweet William he dy'd the morrow; Fair Margaret dy'd for pure true love, Sweet William he dy'd for sorrow.

18. Margaret was buried in the lower chancel, Sweet William in the higher; Out of her breast there sprung a rose, And out of his a brier.

19. They grew as high as the church-top, Till they could grow no higher, And then they grew in a true lover's knot, Which made all people admire.

20. There came the clerk of the parish, As you this truth shall hear, And by misfortune cut them down, Or they had now been there.

LORD LOVEL

'It is silly sooth, And dallies with the innocence of love, Like the old age.'

--_Twelfth Night_, II. 4.

+The Text.+--This ballad, concluding a small class of three--_Lord Thomas and Fair Annet_, and _Fair Margaret and Sweet William_ being the other two--is distinguished by the fact that the lady dies of hope deferred. It is a foolish ballad, at the opposite pole to _Lord Thomas and Fair Annet_, and is pre-eminently one of the class meant only to be sung, with an effective burden. The text given here, therefore, is that of a broadside of the year 1846.

+The Story+ in outline is extremely popular in German and Scandinavian literature. Of the former the commonest is _Der Ritter und die Maid_, also found north of Germany; twenty-six different versions in all, in some of which lilies spring from the grave. In a Swedish ballad a linden-tree grows out of their bodies; in Danish ballads, roses, lilies, or lindens. This conclusion, a commonplace in folk-song, occurs also in a class of Romaic ballads, where a clump of reeds rises from one of the lovers, and a cypress or lemon-tree from the other, which bend to each other and mingle their leaves whenever the wind blows. Classical readers will recall the tale of Philemon and Baucis.

For further information on this subject, consult the special section of the Introduction.

Various other versions of this ballad are named _Lady Ouncebell_, _Lord Lavel_, _Lord Travell_, and _Lord Revel_.

LORD LOVEL

1. Lord Lovel he stood at his castle-gate, Combing his milk-white steed, When up came Lady Nancy Belle, To wish her lover good speed, speed, To wish her lover good speed.

2. 'Where are you going, Lord Lovel?' she said, 'Oh where are you going?' said she; 'I'm going, my Lady Nancy Belle, Strange countries for to see.'

3. 'When will you be back, Lord Lovel?' she said, 'Oh when will you come back?' said she; 'In a year, or two, or three at the most, I'll return to my fair Nancy.'

4. But he had not been gone a year and a day, Strange countries for to see, When languishing thoughts came into his head, Lady Nancy Belle he would go see.

5. So he rode, and he rode, on his milk-white steed, Till he came to London town, And there he heard St. Pancras' bells, And the people all mourning round.

6. 'Oh what is the matter?' Lord Lovel he said, 'Oh what is the matter?' said he; 'A lord's lady is dead,' a woman replied, 'And some call her Lady Nancy.'

7. So he ordered the grave to be opened wide, And the shroud he turned down, And there he kissed her clay-cold lips, Till the tears came trickling down.

8. Lady Nancy she died, as it might be, today, Lord Lovel he died as tomorrow; Lady Nancy she died out of pure, pure grief, Lord Lovel he died out of sorrow.

9. Lady Nancy was laid in St. Pancras' Church, Lord Lovel was laid in the choir; And out of her bosom there grew a red rose, And out of her lover's a briar.

10. They grew, and they grew, to the church-steeple too, And then they could grow no higher; So there they entwined in a true-lovers' knot, For all lovers true to admire.

1.4,5: A similar repetition of the last line of each verse makes the refrain throughout. 10.1: Perhaps a misprint for 'church-steeple top.'--+Child+.

LADY MAISRY

+The Text.+--From the Jamieson-Brown MS. All the other variants agree as to the main outline of the ballad.

+The Story.+--Lady Maisry, refusing the young lords of the north country, and saying that her love is given to an English lord, is suspected by her father's kitchy-boy, who goes to tell her brother. He charges her with her fault, reviles her for 'drawing up with an English lord,' and commands her to renounce him. She refuses, and is condemned to be burned. A bonny boy bears news of her plight to Lord William, who leaps to boot and saddle; but he arrives too late to save her, though he vows vengeance on all her kin, and promises to burn himself last of all.

Burning was the penalty usually allotted in the romances to a girl convicted of unchastity.

LADY MAISRY

1. The young lords o' the north country Have all a wooing gone, To win the love of Lady Maisry, But o' them she woud hae none.

2. O they hae courted Lady Maisry Wi' a' kin kind of things; An' they hae sought her Lady Maisry Wi' brotches an' wi' rings.

3. An' they ha' sought her Lady Maisry Frae father and frae mother; An' they ha' sought her Lady Maisry Frae sister an' frae brother.

4. An' they ha' follow'd her Lady Maisry Thro' chamber an' thro' ha'; But a' that they coud say to her, Her answer still was Na.

5. 'O ha'd your tongues, young men,' she says, 'An' think nae mair o' me; For I've gi'en my love to an English lord, An' think nae mair o' me.'

6. Her father's kitchy-boy heard that, An ill death may he dee! An' he is on to her brother, As fast as gang coud he.

7. 'O is my father an' my mother well, But an' my brothers three? Gin my sister Lady Maisry be well, There's naething can ail me.'

8. 'Your father an' your mother is well, But an' your brothers three; Your sister Lady Maisry's well, So big wi' bairn gangs she.'

9. 'Gin this be true you tell to me, My mailison light on thee! But gin it be a lie you tell, You sal be hangit hie.'

10. He's done him to his sister's bow'r, Wi' meikle doole an' care; An' there he saw her Lady Maisry Kembing her yallow hair.

11. 'O wha is aught that bairn,' he says, 'That ye sae big are wi'? And gin ye winna own the truth, This moment ye sall dee.'

12. She turn'd her right and roun' about, An' the kem fell frae her han'; A trembling seiz'd her fair body, An' her rosy cheek grew wan.

13. 'O pardon me, my brother dear, An' the truth I'll tell to thee; My bairn it is to Lord William, An' he is betroth'd to me.'

14. 'O coud na ye gotten dukes, or lords, Intill your ain country, That ye draw up wi' an English dog, To bring this shame on me?

15. 'But ye maun gi' up the English lord, Whan youre young babe is born; For, gin you keep by him an hour langer, Your life sall be forlorn.'

16. 'I will gi' up this English blood, Till my young babe be born; But the never a day nor hour langer, Tho' my life should be forlorn.'

17. 'O whare is a' my merry young men, Whom I gi' meat and fee, To pu' the thistle and the thorn, To burn this wile whore wi'?'

18. 'O whare will I get a bonny boy, To help me in my need, To rin wi' hast to Lord William, And bid him come wi' speed?'

19. O out it spake a bonny boy, Stood by her brother's side: 'O I would run your errand, lady, O'er a' the world wide.

20. 'Aft have I run your errands, lady, Whan blawn baith win' and weet; But now I'll rin your errand, lady, Wi' sa't tears on my cheek.'

21. O whan he came to broken briggs, He bent his bow and swam, An' whan he came to the green grass growin', He slack'd his shoone and ran.

22. O whan he came to Lord William's gates, He baed na to chap or ca', But set his bent bow till his breast, An' lightly lap the wa'; An', or the porter was at the gate, The boy was i' the ha'.

23. 'O is my biggins broken, boy? Or is my towers won? Or is my lady lighter yet, Of a dear daughter or son?'

24. 'Your biggin is na broken, sir, Nor is your towers won; But the fairest lady in a' the lan' For you this day maun burn.'

25. 'O saddle me the black, the black, Or saddle me the brown; O saddle me the swiftest steed That ever rade frae a town.'

26. Or he was near a mile awa', She heard his wild horse sneeze: 'Mend up the fire, my false brother, It's na come to my knees.'

27. O whan he lighted at the gate, She heard his bridle ring; 'Mend up the fire, my false brother, It's far yet frae my chin.

28. 'Mend up the fire to me, brother, Mend up the fire to me; For I see him comin' hard an' fast, Will soon men' 't up to thee.

29. 'O gin my hands had been loose, Willy, Sae hard as they are boun', I would have turn'd me frae the gleed, And castin out your young son.'