PART II.

Of a blind beggars daughter so bright,[L1] That late was betrothed to a young knight, All the whole discourse therof you did see, But now comes the wedding of pretty Bessee.

It was in a gallant palace most brave, 5 Adorned with all the cost they could have, This wedding it was kept most sumptuously, And all for the love of pretty Bessee.

And all kind of dainties and delicates sweet Was brought to their banquet, as it was thought meet; 10 Partridge, and plover, and venison most free, Against the brave wedding of pretty Bessee.

The wedding thro' England was spread by report, So that a great number thereto did resort, Of nobles and gentles of every degree, 15 And all for the fame of pretty Bessee.

To church then away went this gallant young knight, His bride followed after, an angel most bright, With troops of ladies, the like was ne'er seen, As went with sweet Bessee of Bednall Green. 20

This wedding being solemnized then, With music performed by skilfullest men, The nobles and gentles sat down at that tide,[L23] Each one beholding the beautiful bride.

But after the sumptuous dinner was done, 25 To talk and to reason a number begun, And of the Blind Beggars daughter most bright, And what with his daughter he gave to the knight.

Then spoke the nobles, "Much marvel have we This jolly blind beggar we cannot yet see!" 30 "My lords," quoth the bride, "my father so base Is loathe with his presence these states to disgrace."

"The praise of a woman in question to bring, Before her own face, is a flattering thing; But we think thy fathers baseness," quoth they, 35 "Might by thy beauty be clean put away."

They no sooner this pleasant word spoke, But in comes the beggar in a silken cloak, A velvet cap and a feather had he, And now a musician, forsooth, he would be. 40

And being led in, from catching of harm, He had a dainty lute under his arm; Said, "Please you to hear any music of me, A song I will give you of pretty Bessee."

With that his lute he twanged straightway, 45 And thereon began most sweetly to play, And after a lesson was played two or three, He strained out this song most delicately:--

_"A beggars daughter did dwell on a green, Who for her beauty might well be a queen,[L50] 50 A blythe bonny lass, and dainty was she, And many one called her pretty Bessee._

_"Her father he had no goods nor no lands, But begged for a penny all day with his hands, And yet for her marriage gave thousands three, 55 Yet still he hath somewhat for pretty Bessee._

_"And here if any one do her disdain, Her father is ready with might and with main, To prove she is come of noble degree, Therefore let none flout at my pretty Bessee."_ 60

With that the lords and the company round With a hearty laughter were ready to swound; At last said the lords, "Full well we may see, The bride and the bridegroom's beholden to thee."

With that the fair bride all blushing did rise, 65 With chrystal water all in her bright eyes; "Pardon my father, brave nobles," quoth she, "That through blind affection thus doats upon me."

"If this be thy father," the nobles did say, "Well may he be proud of this happy day, 70 Yet by his countenance well may we see, His birth with his fortune could never agree.

"And therefore, blind beggar, we pray thee bewray, And look that the truth to us thou dost say,[L74] Thy birth and thy parentage what it may be, 75 E'en for the love thou bearest to pretty Bessee."

"Then give me leave, ye gentles each one, A song more to sing and then I'll begone; And if that I do not win good report, Then do not give me one groat for my sport:-- 80

_"When first our king his fame did advance, And sought his title in delicate France, In many places great perils past he, But then was not born my pretty Bessee._

_"And at those wars went over to fight, 85 Many a brave duke, a lord, and a knight, And with them young Monford of courage so free, But then was not born my pretty Bessee._

_"And there did young Monford with a blow on the face Lose both his eyes in a very short space; 90 His life had been gone away with his sight, Had not a young woman gone forth in the night._

_"Among the slain men, her fancy did move[L93] To search and to seek for her own true love, Who seeing young Monford there gasping to die, 95 She saved his life through her charity._

_"And then all our victuals in beggars attire, At the hands of good people we then did require; At last into England, as now it is seen, We came, and remained in Bednall Green._ 100

_"And thus we have lived in Fortune's despyght, Though poor, yet contented, with humble delight, And in my old years, a comfort to me, God sent me a daughter, called pretty Bessee._

_"And thus, ye nobles, my song I do end, 105 Hoping by the same no man to offend; Full forty long winters thus I have been, A silly blind beggar of Bednall Green."_

Now when the company every one Did hear the strange tale he told in his song, 110 They were amazed, as well as they might be, Both at the blind beggar and pretty Bessee.

With that the fair bride they all bid embrace, Saying, "You are come of an honourable race; Thy father likewise is of high degree, 115 And thou art right worthy a lady to be."

Thus was the feast ended with joy and delight; A happy bridegroom was made the young knight, Who lived in great joy and felicity, With his fair lady, dear pretty Bessee. 120

1-4. This stanza is wrongly placed at the end of the First Part in the copy from which we reprint. In ed. 1723 it does not occur. v. 3. therof you did, Percy, for, _therefore you may_.

23. gentlemen down at the side.

50. may.

74. look to us then the truth.

93. said men.

THE FAMOUS FLOWER OF SERVING-MEN

OR,

THE LADY TURNED SERVING-MAN.

From _A Collection of Old Ballads_, i. 216. Percy's edition, (iii. 126,) was from a written copy, "containing some improvements, (perhaps modern ones.") Mr. Kinloch has printed a fragment of this piece in its Scottish dress, as taken down from the recitation of an old woman in Lanark,--_Sweet Willie_, p. 96. Several of the verses in the following are found also in _The Lament of the Border Widow_; see _ante_, iii. 86.

A similar story is found in Swedish and Danish: _Liten Kerstin_, or _Stolts Botelid, Stalldräng, Svenska Folk-Visor_, ii. 15, 20, Arwidsson, ii. 179: _Stolt Ingeborgs Forklædning, Danske Viser_, No. 184.

You beauteous ladies, great and small, I write unto you one and all, Whereby that you may understand What I have suffer'd in this land.

I was by birth a lady fair, 5 My father's chief and only heir, But when my good old father died, Then I was made a young knight's bride.

And then my love built me a bower, Bedeck'd with many a fragrant flower; 10 A braver bower you ne'er did see, Than my true love did build for me.

But there came thieves late in the night, They robb'd my bower, and slew my knight, And after that my knight was slain, 15 I could no longer there remain.

My servants all from me did fly, In the midst of my extremity, And left me by myself alone, With a heart more cold than any stone. 20

Yet, though my heart was full of care, Heaven would not suffer me to despair; Wherefore in haste I chang'd my name From Fair Elise to Sweet William.

And therewithall I cut my hair, 25 And dress'd myself in man's attire, My doublet, hose, and beaver hat, And a golden band about my neck.

With a silver rapier by my side, So like a gallant I did ride; 30 The thing that I delighted on, It was to be a serving-man.

Thus in my sumptuous man's array I bravely rode along the way; And at the last it chanced so, 35 That I to the king's court did go.

Then to the king I bow'd full low, My love and duty for to show; And so much favour I did crave, That I a serving-man's place might have. 40

"Stand up, brave youth," the king replied, "Thy service shall not be denied; But tell me first what thou canst do; Thou shalt be fitted thereunto.

"Wilt thou be usher of my hall, 45 To wait upon my nobles all? Or wilt thou be taster of my wine, To wait on me when I do dine?

"Or wilt thou be my chamberlain, To make my bed both soft and fine? 50 Or wilt thou be one of my guard? And I will give thee thy reward."

Sweet William, with a smiling face, Said to the king, "If't please your grace To show such favour unto me, 55 Your chamberlain I fain would be."

The king then did the nobles call, To ask the counsel of them all; Who gave consent Sweet William he The king's own chamberlain should be. 60

Now mark what strange thing came to pass: As the king one day a hunting was, With all his lords and noble train, Sweet William did at home remain.

Sweet William had no company then 65 With him at home, but an old man; And when he saw the house was clear, He took a lute which he had there:

Upon the lute Sweet William play'd, And to the same he sung and said, 70 With a sweet and noble voice, Which made the old man to rejoice:

"My father was as brave a lord As ever Europe did afford, My mother was a lady bright, 75 My husband was a valiant knight:

"And I myself a lady gay, Bedeck'd with gorgeous rich array; The bravest lady in the land Had not more pleasure at command. 80

"I had my music every day, Harmonious lessons for to play; I had my virgins fair and free, Continually to wait on me.

"But now, alas! my husband's dead, 85 And all my friends are from me fled; My former joys are pass'd and gone, For I am now a serving-man."

At last the king from hunting came, And presently, upon the same, 90 He called for this good old man, And thus to speak the king began:

"What news, what news, old man?" quoth he; "What news hast thou to tell to me?" "Brave news," the old man he did say, 95 "Sweet William is a lady gay."

"If this be true thou tell'st to me I'll make thee lord of high degree; But if thy words do prove a lie, Thou shall be hang'd up presently." 100

But when the king the truth had found, His joys did more and more abound: According as the old man did say, Sweet William was a lady gay.

Therefore the king without delay 105 Put on her glorious rich array, And upon her head a crown of gold, Which was most famous to behold.

And then, for fear of further strife, He took Sweet William for his wife: 110 The like before was never seen,-- A serving-man to be a queen.

THE FAIR FLOWER OF NORTHUMBERLAND.

_Ritson's Ancient Songs and Ballads_, ii. 75.

Preserved in Thomas Deloney's _History of Jack of Newbery_, whence it was extracted by Ritson. In that extraordinary book, _The Minstrelsy of the English Border_, (p. 201,) Ritson's copy is inserted without acknowledgment, and with a few alterations for the worse. Scottish versions of this ballad are given by Kinloch, (_The Provost's Dochter_, p. 131,) and by Buchan, (_The Betrayed Lady_, ii. 208.) The former of these is printed in our Appendix.

It was a Knight in Scotland born, _Follow, my love, come over the strand_, Was taken prisoner, and left forlorn, Even by the good Earl of Northumberland.

Then was he cast in prison strong, 5 _Follow, my love, 'come' over the strand_, Where he could not walk nor lye along, Even by the good Earl of Northumberland.

And as in sorrow thus he lay, _Follow, my love, come over the strand_, 10 The Earl [s] sweet daughter walks that way, And she is the fair Flower of Northumberland.

And passing by like an angel bright, _Follow, my love, come over the strand_, The prisoner had of her a sight, 15 And she the fair Flower of Northumberland.

And aloud to her this knight did cry, _Follow, my love, come over the strand_, The salt tears standing in his eye, And she the fair Flower of Northumberland.

"Fair lady," he said, "take pity on me, 21 _Follow, my love, come over the strand_, And let me not in prison die, And you the fair Flower of Northumberland."

"Fair Sir, how should I take pity on thee, 25 _Follow, my love, come over the strand_, Thou being a foe to our country, And I the fair Flower of Northumberland."

"Fair lady, I am no foe," he said, _Follow, my love, come over the strand_, 30 "Through thy sweet love here was I stay'd, For thee, the fair Flower of Northumberland."

"Why shouldst thou come here for love of me, _Follow, my love, come over the strand_, Having wife and children in thy country, 35 And I the fair Flower of Northumberland."

"I swear by the blessed Trinity, _Follow, my love, come over the strand_, I have no wife nor children, I, Nor dwelling at home in merry Scotland. 40

"If courteously thou wilt set me free, _Follow, my love, come over the strand_, I vow that I will marry thee, So soon as I come in fair Scotland.

"Thou shalt be a lady of castles and towers, 45 _Follow, my love, come over the strand_, And sit like a queen in princely bowers, Were I at home in fair Scotland."

Then parted hence this lady gay, _Follow, my love, come over the strand_, 50 And got her fathers ring away, To help this knight into fair Scotland.

Likewise much gold she got by sleight, _Follow, my love, come over the strand_, And all to help this forlorn knight, 55 To wend from her father to fair Scotland.

Two gallant steeds, both good and able, _Follow, my love, come over the strand_, She likewise took out of the stable, To ride with the knight into fair Scotland. 60

And to the jaylor she sent this ring, _Follow, my love, come over the strand_, The knight from prison forth 'to' bring, To wend with her into fair Scotland.

This token set the prisoner free, 65 _Follow, my love, come over the strand_, Who straight went to this fair lady, To wend with her into fair Scotland.

A gallant steed he did bestride, _Follow, my love, come over the strand_, 70 And with the lady away did ride, And she the fair Flower of Northumberland.

They rode till they came to a water clear, _Follow, my love, come over the strand_, "Good Sir, how should I follow you here, 75 And I the fair Flower of Northumberland?

"The water is rough and wonderful deep, _Follow, my love, come over the strand_, And on my saddle I shall not keep, And I the fair Flower of Northumberland." 80

"Fear not the foard, fair lady," quoth he, _Follow, my love, come over the strand_, "For long I cannot stay for thee, And thou the fair Flower of Northumberland."

The lady prickt her wanton steed, 85 _Follow, my love, come over the strand_, And over the river swom with speed, And she the fair Flower of Northumberland.

From top to toe all wet was she, _Follow, my love, come over the strand_; 90 "Thus have I done for love of thee, And I the fair Flower of Northumberland."

Thus rode she all one winters night, _Follow, my love, come over the strand_, Till Edenborough they saw in sight, 95 The fairest town in all Scotland.

"Now chuse," quoth he, "thou wanton flower, _Follow, my love, come over the strand_, 'Whether' thou wilt be my paramour, Or get thee home to Northumberland. 100

"For I have wife, and children five, _Follow, my love, come over the strand_; In Edenborough they be alive, Then get thee home to fair England.

"This favour thou shalt have to boot, 105 _Follow, my love, come over the strand_; I'le have 'thy' horse, go thou on foot, Go, get thee home to Northumberland."

"O false and faithless knight," quoth she, _Follow, my love, come over the strand_, 110 "And canst thou deal so bad with me, And I the fair Flower of Northumberland?

"Dishonour not a ladies name, _Follow, my love, come over the strand_, But draw thy sword and end my shame, 115 And I the fair Flower of Northumberland."

He took her from her stately steed, _Follow, my love, come over the strand_, And left her there in extream need, And she the fair Flower of Northumberland. 120

Then sat she down full heavily, _Follow, my love, come over the strand_; At length two knights came riding by, Two gallant knights of fair England.

She fell down humbly on her knee, 125 _Follow, my love, come over the strand_, Saying, "Courteous 'knights,' take pity on me, And I the fair Flower of Northumberland.

"I have offended my father dear, _Follow, my love, come over the strand_, 130 And by a false knight, who brought me here From the good Earl of Northumberland."

They took her up behind them then _Follow, my love, come over the strand_, And brought her to her father again, 135 And he the good Earl of Northumberland.

All you fair maidens be warned by me, _Follow, my love, come over the strand_, Scots never were true, nor never will be, To lord, nor lady, nor fair England. 140

GENTLE HERDSMAN, TELL TO ME.

From _Reliques of Ancient English Poetry_, ii. 82.

"The scene of this beautiful old ballad is laid near Walsingham, in Norfolk, where was anciently an image of the Virgin Mary, famous over all Europe for the numerous pilgrimages made to it, and the great riches it possessed. Erasmus has given a very exact and humorous description of the superstitions practised there in his time. See his account of the Virgo Parathalassia, in his colloquy entitled, _Peregrinatio Religionis Ergo_. He tells us, the rich offerings in silver, gold, and precious stones that were there shown him were incredible, there being scarce a person of any note in England, but what some time or other paid a visit or sent a present to Our Lady of Walsingham. At the dissolution of the monasteries in 1538, this splendid image, with another from Ipswich, was carried to Chelsea, and there burnt in the presence of commissioners; who, we trust, did not burn the jewels and the finery.

"This poem is printed from a copy in the Editor's folio MS. which had greatly suffered by the hand of time; but vestiges of several of the lines remaining, some conjectural supplements have been attempted, which, for greater exactness, are in this one ballad distinguished by italics." PERCY.

Gentle heardsman, tell to me, Of curtesy I thee pray, Unto the towne of Walsingham Which is the right and ready way.

"Unto the towne of Walsingham 5 The way is hard for to be gon; And verry crooked are those pathes For you to find out all alone."

Weere the miles doubled thrise, And the way never soe ill, 10 Itt were not enough for mine offence, Itt is soe grievous and soe ill.

"Thy yeeares are young, thy face is faire, Thy witts are weake, thy thoughts are greene; Time hath not given thee leave, as yett, 15 For to committ so great a sinne."

Yes, heardsman, yes, soe woldest thou say, If thou knewest soe much as I; My witts, and thoughts, and all the rest, Have well deserved for to dye. 20

I am not what I seeme to bee, My clothes and sexe doe differ farr: I am a woman, woe is me! _Born_ to greeffe and irksome care.

_For_ my beloved, and well-beloved, 25 _My wayward cruelty could kill: And though my teares will nought avail, Most dearely I bewail him_ still.

_He was the flower of n_oble wights, _None ever more sincere colde_ bee; 30 _Of comely mien and shape_ hee was, _And tenderlye he_e loved mee.

_When thus I saw he lo_ved me well, _I grewe so proud his pa_ine to see, _That I, who did not_ know myselfe, 35 _Thought scorne_ of _such a youth_ as hee.

And grew soe coy and nice to please, As women's lookes are often soe, He might not kisse, nor hand forsooth, Unlesse I willed him soe to doe. 40

Thus being wearyed with delayes[L41] To see I pittyed not his greeffe, He gott him to a secrett place, And there he dyed without releeffe.

And for his sake these weeds I weare, 45 And sacriffice my tender age; And every day Ile begg my bread, To undergoe this pilgrimage.

Thus every day I fast and pray, And ever will doe till I dye; 50 And gett me to some secrett place, For soe did hee, and soe will I.

Now, gentle heardsman, aske no more, But keepe my secretts I thee pray: Unto the towne of Walsingham 55 Show me the right and readye way.

"Now goe thy wayes, and God before! For he must ever guide thee still: Turne downe that dale, the right hand path, And soe, faire pilgrim, fare thee well!" 60

41-52. Stanzas 11, 12, 13, have been paraphrased by Goldsmith in his ballad of _Edwin and Emma_.

AS I CAME FROM WALSINGHAM.

From _The Garland of Good Will_, as reprinted by the Percy Society, vol. XXX. p. 111. Percy's copy was communicated to him by Shenstone, and was retouched by that poet.

"The pilgrimage to Walsingham," remarks the Bishop, "suggested the plan of many popular pieces. In the Pepys collection, vol. i. p. 226, is a kind of interlude in the old ballad style, of which the first stanza alone is worth reprinting.

As I went to Walsingham, To the shrine with speede, Met I with a jolly palmer In a pilgrimes weede. 'Now God you save, you jolly palmer!' 'Welcome, lady gay! Oft have I sued to thee for love.' 'Oft have I said you nay.'

The pilgrimages undertaken on pretence of religion were often productive of affairs of gallantry, and led the votaries to no other shrine than that of Venus.[1]"

"The following ballad was once very popular; it is quoted in Fletcher's '_Knight of the Burning Pestle_,' Act ii. sc. ult., and in another old play, called "_Hans Beer-pot, his invisible Comedy_, &c. 4to 1618, Act i."

"_As I went to Walsingham_ is quoted in Nashe's _Have with you to Saffron-Walden_, 1596, sign. L."

CHAPPELL.

[1]

'Hermets on a heape, with hoked staves, Wenten to Walsingham, and her wenches after.'

_Visions of Pierce Plowman_, fo. i.

"As you came from the holy-land Of Walsingham, Met you not with my true love By the way as you came?"

"How should I know your true love, 5 That have met many a one, As I came from the holy-land, That have come, that have gone?"

"She is neither white nor brown, But as the heavens fair; 10 There is none hath a form so divine, On the earth, in the air."

"Such a one did I meet, good sir, With angellike face, Who like a queen did appear 15 In her gait, in her grace."

"She hath left me here all alone, All alone and unknown, Who sometime lov'd me as her life, And call'd me her own." 20

"What's the cause she hath left thee alone, And a new way doth take, That sometime did love thee as her life, And her joy did thee make?"

"I loved her all my youth, 25 But now am old, as you see; Love liketh not the fallen fruit, Nor the withered tree.

"For love is a careless child, And forgets promise past; 30 He is blind, he is deaf, when he list, And in faith never fast.

"For love is a great delight, And yet a trustless joy; He is won with a word of despair, 35 And is lost with a toy.

"Such is the love of womankind, Or the word abus'd, Under which many childish desires And conceits are excus'd. 40

"But love is a durable fire, In the mind ever burning; Never sick, never dead, never cold, From itself never turning."

KING COPHETUA AND THE BEGGAR-MAID.

From Richard Johnson's _Crowne-Garland of Goulden Roses_, (1612,) as reprinted by the Percy Society, vi. 45. It is there simply entitled _A Song of a Beggar and a King_. Given in Percy's _Reliques_, i. 202, "corrected by another copy."

This story, and it would appear this very ballad, is alluded to by Shakespeare and others of the dramatists.

Thus, the 13th verse is partly quoted in _Romeo and Juliet_, A. ii. sc. 1:

"Young Adam Cupid, he that shot so trim, When King Cophetua loved the beggar-maid."

Again in _Love's Labour's Lost_, (printed in 1598,) A. i. sc. 2.

_Arm._ Is there not a ballad, boy, of the King and the Beggar?

_Moth._ The world was very guilty of such a ballad some three ages since, but, I think, now 'tis not to be found.

See also _Henry Fourth_, P. ii. A. v. sc. 3, _Richard Second_, A. v. sc. 3, and Ben Jonson's _Every Man in his Humour_, A. iii. sc. 4,--all these cited by Percy.

In _A Collection of Old Ballads_, i. 138, is a _rifacimento_ of this piece, in a different stanza, but following the story closely and preserving much of the diction. It is also printed in Evans's _Old Ballads_, ii. 361.

I read that once in Affrica A prince that there did raine, Who had to name Cophetua, As poets they did faine. From natures workes he did incline, 5 For sure he was not of my minde, He cared not for women-kind, But did them all disdain. But marke what happen'd by the way; As he out of his window lay, 10 He saw a beggar all in grey, Which did increase his paine.

The blinded boy that shootes so trim From heaven downe so high, He drew a dart and shot at him, 15 In place where he did lye: Which soone did pierce him to the quick, For when he felt the arrow prick, Which in his tender heart did stick, He looketh as he would dye. 20 "What sudden change is this," quoth he, "That I to love must subject be, Which never thereto would agree, But still did it defie?"

Then from his window he did come, 25 And laid him on his bed; A thousand heapes of care did runne Within his troubled head. For now he means to crave her love, And now he seeks which way to proove 30 How he his fancie might remove, And not this beggar wed. But Cupid had him so in snare, That this poore beggar must prepare A salve to cure him of his care, 35 Or els he would be dead.

And as he musing thus did lie, He thought for to devise How he might have her company, That so did maze his eyes. 40 "In thee," quoth he, "doth rest my life; For surely thou shalt be my wife, Or else this hand with bloody knife, The gods shall sure suffice." Then from his bed he 'soon' arose, 45 And to his pallace gate he goes; Full little then this beggar knowes When she the king espies[L48].

"The gods preserve your majesty," The beggars all gan cry; 50 "Vouchsafe to give your charity, Our childrens food to buy!" The king to them his purse did cast, And they to part it made great haste; This silly woman was the last 55 That after them did hye. The king he cal'd her back again, And unto her he gave his chaine; And said, "With us you shall remain Till such time as we dye. 60

"For thou," quoth he, "shalt be my wife, And honoured like the queene; With thee I meane to lead my life, As shortly shall be seene: Our wedding day shall appointed be, 65 And every thing in their degree; Come on," quoth he, "and follow me, Thou shalt go shift thee cleane. What is thy name?--go on," quoth he. "Penelophon, O King!" quoth she; 70 With that she made a lowe courtsey; A trim one as I weene.

Thus hand in hand along they walke Unto the kings palace: The king with courteous, comly talke 75 This beggar doth embrace. The beggar blusheth scarlet read, And straight againe as pale as lead, But not a word at all she said, She was in such amaze. 80 At last she spake with trembling voyce, And said, "O King, I do rejoyce That you will take me for your choice, And my degree so base!"

And when the wedding day was come, 85 The king commanded straight The noblemen, both all and some, Upon the queene to waight. And she behavd herself that day As if she had never walkt the way; 90 She had forgot her gowne of gray, Which she did wear of late. The proverb old is come to passe, The priest, when he begins the masse, Forgets that ever clarke he was; 95 He knowth not his estate.

Here you may read Cophetua, Through fancie long time fed, Compelled by the blinded boy The beggar for to wed: 100 He that did lovers lookes disdaine, To do the same was glad and fain, Or else he would himself have slaine, In stories as we read. Disdaine no whit, O lady deere, 105 But pitty now thy servant heere, Lest that it hap to thee this yeare, As to the king it did.

And thus they lead a quiet life During their princely raigne, 110 And in a tombe were buried both, As writers shew us plaine. The lords they tooke it grievously, The ladies tooke it heavily, The commons cryed pittiously, 115 Their death to them was pain. Their fame did sound so passingly, That it did pierce the starry sky, And throughout all the world did flye To every princes realme. 120

48, espied.

THE SPANISH LADY'S LOVE.

From _The Garland of Good-Will_, as reprinted by the Percy Society, xxx. 125. Other copies, slightly different, in _A Collection of Old Ballads_, ii. 191, and in Percy's _Reliques_, ii. 246.

Percy conjectures that this ballad "took its rise from one of those descents made on the Spanish coasts in the time of Queen Elizabeth." The weight of tradition is decidedly, perhaps entirely, in favor of the hero's having been one of Essex's comrades in the Cadiz expedition, but _which_ of his gallant captains achieved the double conquest of the Spanish Lady is by no means satisfactorily determined. Among the candidates put forth are Sir Richard Levison of Trentham, Staffordshire, Sir John Popham of Littlecot, Wilts, Sir Urias Legh of Adlington, Cheshire, and Sir John Bolle of Thorpe Hall, Lincolnshire. The right of the last to this distinction has been recently warmly contended for, and, as is usual in similar cases, strong circumstantial evidence is urged in his favor. The reader will judge for himself of its probable authenticity.

"On Sir John Bolle's departure from Cadiz," it is said, "the Spanish Lady sent as presents to his wife a profusion of jewels and other valuables, among which was her portrait drawn in green; plate, money, and other treasures." Some of these articles are maintained to be still in possession of the family, and also a portrait of Sir John, drawn in 1596, at the age of thirty-six, in which he wears the gold chain given him by his enamored prisoner. See _The Times_ newspaper of April 30 and May 1, 1846, (the latter article cited in _Notes and Queries_, ix. 573,) and the _Quarterly Review_, Sept. 1846, Art. III. The literary merits of the ballad are also considered in the _Edinburgh Review_, of April, 1846.

Shenstone has essayed in his _Moral Tale of Love and Honour_ to bring out "the Spanish Ladye and her Knight in less grovelling accents than the simple guise of ancient record," while Wordsworth, in a more reverential spirit, has taken this noble old romance as the model of his _Armenian Lady's Love_.

Will you hear a Spanish lady, How she woo'd an English man? Garments gay as rich as may be, Decked with jewels, had she on; Of a comely countenance and grace was she, 5 And by birth and parentage of high degree.

As his prisoner there he kept her, In his hands her life did lie; Cupid's bands did tie her faster, By the liking of an eye; 10 In his courteous company was all her joy, To favour him in any thing she was not coy.

At the last there came commandment For to set the ladies free, With their jewels still adorned, 15 None to do them injury: "Alas," then said this lady gay, "full woe is me; O let me still sustain this kind captivity!

"O gallant captain, shew some pity To a lady in distress; 20 Leave me not within the city, For to die in heaviness; Thou hast set this present day my body free, But my heart in prison strong remains with thee."

"How should'st thou, fair lady, love me, 25 Whom thou know'st thy country's foe? Thy fair words make me suspect thee; Serpents are where flowers grow." "All the evil I think to thee, most gracious knight, God grant unto myself the same may fully light! 30

"Blessed be the time and season, That you came on Spanish ground; If you may our foes be termed, Gentle foes we have you found. With our city, you have won our hearts each one; 35 Then to your country bear away that is your own."

"Rest you still, most gallant lady, Rest you still, and weep no more; Of fair lovers there are plenty; Spain doth yield a wondrous store." 40 "Spaniards fraught with jealousie we often find; But English men throughout the world are counted kind.

"Leave me not unto a Spaniard; You alone enjoy my heart; I am lovely, young, and tender, 45 And so love is my desert. Still to serve thee day and night my mind is prest; The wife of every English man is counted blest."

"It would be a shame, fair lady, For to bear a woman hence; 50 English soldiers never carry Any such without offence." "I will quickly change myself, if it be so, And like a page I'll follow thee, where'er thou go."

"I have neither gold nor silver 55 To maintain thee in this case, And to travel, 'tis great charges, As you know, in every place." "My chains and jewels every one shall be thine own, And eke ten thousand pounds in gold that lies unknown." 60

"On the seas are many dangers; Many storms do there arise, Which will be to ladies dreadful, And force tears from wat'ry eyes." "Well in worth I could endure extremity, 65 For I could find in heart to lose my life for thee."

"Courteous lady, be contented; Here comes all that breeds the strife; I in England have already A sweet woman to my wife: 70 I will not falsifie my vow for gold or gain, Nor yet for all the fairest dames that live in Spain."

"Oh how happy is that woman That enjoys so true a friend! Many days of joy God send you! 75 Of my suit I'll make an end: On my knees I pardon crave for this offence, Which love and true affection did first commence.

"Commend me to thy loving lady; Bear to her this chain of gold, 80 And these bracelets for a token; Grieving that I was so bold. All my jewels in like sort bear thou with thee, For these are fitting for thy wife, and not for me.

"I will spend my days in prayer, 85 Love and all her laws defie; In a nunnery will I shroud me, Far from other company: But ere my prayers have end, be sure of this, [To pray] for thee and for thy love I will not miss. 90

"Thus farewell, most gentle captain, And farewell my heart's content! Count not Spanish ladies wanton, Though to thee my love was bent: Joy and true prosperity goe still with thee!" 95 "The like fall ever to thy share, most fair lady."

PATIENT GRISSEL.

The story of Griselda was first told in the _Decameron_. Boccaccio derived the incidents from Petrarch, and Petrarch seems to have communicated them also to Chaucer, who (in his _Clerk of Oxenford's Tale_) first made known the tale to English readers. The theme was subsequently treated in a great variety of ways.[2] Two plays upon the subject are known to have been written, one of which (by Dekker, Chettle and Haughton) has been printed by the Shakespeare Society, while the other, an older production of the close of Henry VIII.'s reign, is lost. About the middle of the sixteenth century, (1565,) a _Song of Patient Grissell_ is entered in the Stationers' Registers, and a prose history the same year. The earliest edition of the popular prose history as yet recovered, dated 1619, has been reprinted in the third volume of the Percy Society's Publications.

The ballad here given is taken from Thomas Deloney's _Garland of Good Will_, a collection which was printed some time before 1596. It was circulated after that time, and probably even before the compilation of the Garland, as a broadside, in black-letter, and also, with the addition of a prose introduction and conclusion, as a tract or chap-book. In this last form it is printed in the above-mentioned volume of the Percy Society. The ballad in its proper simplicity is inserted in _A Collection of Old Ballads_, i. 252.

Percy's _Patient Countess_ (_Reliques_, i. 310) is extracted from _Albion's England_.

The title in _The Garland of Good Will_ is, _Of Patient Grissel and a Noble Marquess_. _To the tune of the Bride's Good Morrow._ Percy Society, vol. XXX. p. 82.

[2] For the bibliography see Grässe's _Sagenkreise_, p. 282. The story is also found, says some one, in the Swedish saga of _Hakon Borkenbart_.

A noble marquess, as he did ride a-hunting, Hard by a river side, A proper maiden, as she did sit a-spinning, His gentle eye espy'd: Most fair and lovely, and of comely grace was she, 5 Although in simple attire; She sang most sweetly, with pleasant voice melodiously, Which set the lord's heart on fire. The more he lookt, the more he might; Beauty bred his hearts delight, 10 And to this damsel he went. "God speed," quoth he, "thou famous flower, Fair mistress of this homely bower, Where love and vertue live with sweet content."

With comely gesture and modest mild behaviour 15 She bad him welcome then; She entertain'd him in a friendly manner, And all his gentlemen. The noble marquess in his heart felt such flame Which set his senses all at strife; 20 Quoth he, "Fair maiden, shew soon what is thy name: I mean to take thee to my wife." "Grissel is my name," quoth she, "Far unfit for your degree; A silly maiden, and of parents poor." 25 "Nay, Grissel, thou art rich," he said, "A vertuous, fair, and comely maid; Grant me thy love, and I will ask no more."

At length she consented, and being both contented, They married were with speed; 30 Her country russet was turn'd to silk and velvet, As to her state agreed: And when that she was trimly attired in the same, Her beauty shin'd most bright, Far staining every other brave and comely dame 35 That did appear in sight.[L36] Many envied her therefore, Because she was of parents poor, And twixt her lord and her great strife did raise: Some said this, and some said that, 40 Some did call her beggar's brat, And to her lord they would her oft dispraise.

"O noble marquess," quoth they, "why do you wrong us, Thus basely for to wed, That might have got an honourable lady 45 Into your princely bed? Who will not now your noble issue still deride, Which shall be hereafter born, That are of blood so base by the mother's side, The which will bring them to scorn? 50 Put her, therefore, quite away; Take to you a lady gay, Whereby your lineage may renownèd be." Thus every day they seem'd to prate At malic'd Grissel's good estate, 55 Who took all this most mild and patiently.

When that the marquess did see that they were bent thus Against his faithful wife, Whom most dearly, tenderly, and intirely He loved as his life; 60 Minding in secret for to prove her patient heart, Thereby her foes to disgrace; Thinking to play a hard discourteous part, That men might pity her case,-- Great with child this lady was, 65 And at length it came to pass, Two lovely children at one birth she had; A son and daughter God had sent, Which did their father well content, And which did make their mothers heart full glad. 70

Great royal feasting was at the childrens christ'ning, And princely triumph made; Six weeks together, all nobles that came thither Were entertain'd and staid. And when that these pleasant sportings quite were done, 75 The marquess a messenger sent For his young daughter and his pretty smiling son, Declaring his full intent, How that the babes must murthered be, For so the marquess did decree. 80 "Come, let me have the children," he said: With that fair Grissel wept full sore, She wrung her hands, and said no more; "My gracious lord must have his will obey'd."

She took the babies from the nursing-ladies, 85 Between her tender arms; She often wishes, with many sorrowful kisses, That she might help their harms. "Farewel," quoth she, "my children dear; Never shall I see you again; 90 'Tis long of me, your sad and woful mother dear, For whose sake you must be slain. Had I been born of royal race, You might have liv'd in happy case; But now you must die for my unworthiness. 95 "Come, messenger of death," quoth she, "Take my despised babes to thee, And to their father my complaints express."

He took the children, and to his noble master He brought them forth with speed; 100 Who secretly sent them unto a noble lady, To be nurst up indeed. Then to fair Grissel with a heavy heart he goes, Where she sat mildly all alone; A pleasant gesture and a lovely look she shows, 105 As if grief she had never known. Quoth he, "My children now are slain; What thinks fair Grissel of the same? Sweet Grissel, now declare thy mind to me." "Since you, my lord, are pleas'd with it, 110 Poor Grissel thinks the action fit; Both I and mine at your command will be."

"The nobles murmur, fair Grissel, at thine honour, And I no joy can have Till thou be banisht from my court and presence, 115 As they unjustly crave. Thou must be stript out of thy stately garments; And as thou camest to me, In homely gray, instead of silk and purest pall, Now all thy cloathing must be. 120 My lady thou must be no more, Nor I thy lord, which grieves me sore; The poorest life must now content thy mind: A groat to thee I may not give, Thee to maintain, while I do live; 125 'Gainst my Grissel such great foes I find."

When gentle Grissel heard these woful tidings, The tears stood in her eyes; She nothing said, no words of discontentment Did from her lips arise. 130 Her velvet gown most patiently she stript off, Her girdle of silk with the same; Her russet gown was brought again with many a scoff; To bear them all, herself [she] did frame. When she was drest in this array, 135 And ready was to part away, "God send long life unto my lord," quoth she; "Let no offence be found in this, To give my lord a parting kiss." With wat'ry eyes, "Farewel, my dear!" quoth he. 140

From stately palace, unto her father's cottage, Poor Grissel now is gone; Full fifteen winters she lived there contented, No wrong she thought upon; And at that time thro' all the land the speeches went, 145 The marquess should married be Unto a noble lady of high descent, And to the same all parties did agree. The marquess sent for Grissel fair The bride's bed-chamber to prepare, 150 That nothing should therein be found awry; The bride was with her brother come, Which was great joy to all and some; And Grissel took all this most patiently.

And in the morning when that they should be wedded, 155 Her patience now was try'd; Grissel was charged in princely manner For to attire the bride. Most willingly she gave consent unto the same; The bride in her bravery was drest, 160 And presently the noble marquess thither came, With all the ladies at his request. "Oh Grissel, I would ask of thee If to this match thou wouldst agree? Methinks thy looks are waxed wondrous coy." 165 With that they all began to smile, And Grissel she replies the while, "God send lord marquess many years of joy!"

The marquis was movèd to see his best belovèd Thus patient in distress; 170 He stept unto her, and by the hand he took her; These words he did express: "Thou art the bride, and all the brides I mean to have; These two thy own children be." The youthful lady on her knees did blessing crave, 175 The brother as willing as she. "And you that envy her estate, Whom I have made my loving mate, Now blush for shame, and honour vertuous life; The chronicles of lasting fame 180 Shall evermore extol the name Of patient Grissel, my most constant wife."

36, G. G. W., in her sight.

THE KING OF FRANCE'S DAUGHTER.

From Thomas Deloney's _Garland of Good Will_, as reprinted by the Percy Society, vol. xxx. p. 52. Other copies are in _Old Ballads_, (1723,) i. 181, Ritson's _Ancient Songs_, ii. 136, and Percy's _Reliques_, iii. 207,--the last altered by the editor.

In the days of old, When fair France did flourish, Stories plainly told Lovers felt annoy. The king a daughter had, 5 Beauteous, fair, and lovely, Which made her father glad, She was his only joy. A prince of England came, Whose deeds did merit fame, 10 He woo'd her long, and lo, at last, Look, what he did require,[L12] She granted his desire, Their hearts in one were linked fast. Which when her father proved, 15 Lord, how he was moved And tormented in his mind; He sought for to prevent them, And to discontent them,-- Fortune crosses lovers kind. 20

Whenas these princely twain Were thus debarr'd of pleasure, Through the king's disdain, Which their joys withstood, The lady lockt up close 25 Her jewels and her treasure, Having no remorse Of state or royal blood. In homely poor array, She went from court away,[L30] 30 To meet her love and heart's delight; Who in a forest great, Had taken up his seat, To wait her coming in the night. But lo, what sudden danger, 35 To this princely stranger, Chancèd as he sat alone, By outlaws he was robbed, And with poinard stabbed, Uttering many a dying groan. 40

The princess, armed by him, And by true desire, Wandering all that night, Without dread at all, Still unknown, she past 45 In her strange attire, Coming at the last Within echo's call. "You fair woods," quoth she, "Honoured may you be, 50 Harbouring my heart's delight, Which doth encompass here, My joy and only dear, My trusty friend, and comely knight. Sweet, I come unto thee, 55 Sweet, I come to wooe thee, That thou may'st not angry be; For my long delaying, And thy courteous staying, Amends for all I make to thee." 60

Passing thus alone Through the silent forest, Many a grievous groan Sounded in her ear; Where she heard a man 65 To lament the sorest Chance that ever came, Forc'd by deadly fear. "Farewel, my dear!" quoth he, "Whom I shall never see, 70 For why, my life is at an end; For thy sweet sake I die, Through villain's cruelty, To shew I am a faithful friend. Here lie I a-bleeding, 75 While my thoughts are feeding On the rarest beauty found; O hard hap that may be, Little knows my lady My heart-blood lies on the ground!" 80

With that he gave a groan That did break asunder All the tender strings Of his gentle heart: She, who knew his voice, 85 At his tale did wonder; All her former joys Did to grief convert. Straight she ran to see Who this man should be, 90 That so like her love did speak; And found, whenas she came, Her lovely lord lay slain, Smeer'd in blood which life did break. Which when that she espied, 95 Lord, how sore she cried! Her sorrows could not counted be; Her eyes like fountains running, While she cryed out, "My darling, Would God that I had dy'd for thee!" 100

His pale lips, alas! Twenty times she kisséd, And his face did wash With her brinish tears; Every bleeding wound 105 Her fair face bedewed, Wiping off the blood With her golden hairs. ["Speak, my love," quoth she,][L109] "Speak, fair prince, to me; 110 One sweet word of comfort give; Lift up thy fair eyes, Listen to my cries, Think in what great grief I live." All in vain she sued, 115 All in vain she wooed, The prince's life was fled and gone; There stood she still mourning 'Till the sun's returning, And bright day was coming on. 120

In this great distress Quoth this royal lady, "Who can now express What will become of me? To my father's court 125 Never will I wander, But some service seek Where I may placed be." Whilst she thus made her moan, Weeping all alone, 130 In this deep and deadly fear, A forester all in green, Most comely to be seen, Ranging the wood did find her there, Round beset with sorrow. 135 "Maid," quoth he, "good morrow. What hard hap hath brought you here?" "Harder hap did never Chance to a maiden ever; Here lies slain my brother dear. 140

"Where might I be plac'd, Gentle forester tell me; Where might I procure A service in my need? Pains I will not spare, 145 But will do my duty; Ease me of my care, Help my extream need." The forester all amazed On her beauty gazed, 150 'Till his heart was set on fire: "If, fair maid," quoth he, "You will go with me, You shall have your heart's desire." He brought her to his mother, 155 And above all other He set forth this maiden's praise: Long was his heart inflamed, At length her love he gained, So fortune did his glory raise. 160

Thus unknown he matcht With the king's fair daughter; Children seven he had, Ere she to him was known. But when he understood 165 She was a royal princess, By this means at last He shewèd forth her fame: He cloath'd his children then[L169] Not like other men, 170 In party colours strange to see; The right side cloth of gold, The left side to behold Of woollen cloth still framèd he. Men thereat did wonder, 175 Golden fame did thunder This strange deed in every place; The king of France came thither[L178] Being pleasant weather, In the woods the hart to chase. 180

The children there did stand, As their mother willèd, Where the royal king Must of force come by; Their mother richly clad 185 In fair crimson velvet, Their father all in gray, Most comely to the eye. When this famous king, Noting every thing, 190 Did ask him how he durst be so bold, To let his wife to wear, And deck his children there, In costly robes of pearl and gold,-- The forester bold replièd, 195 And the cause descrièd, And to the king he thus did say: "Well may they by their mother Wear rich gold like other, Being by birth a princess gay." 200

The king upon these words More heedfully beheld them, Till a crimson blush His conceit did cross. "The more I look," quoth he, 205 "Upon thy wife and children, The more I call to mind My daughter whom I lost." "I am that Child," quoth she, Falling on her knee; 210 "Pardon me my soveraign liege!" The king perceiving this His daughter dear did kiss, Till joyful tears did stop his speech. With his train he turnèd, 215 And with her sojournèd; Straight he dubb'd her husband knight; He made him Earl of Flanders, One of his chief commanders;-- Thus was their sorrow put to flight. 220

12, Took.

30, to court.

109, from _Old Ballads_, 1723.

169-174. "This will remind the reader of the livery and device of Charles Brandon, a private gentleman, who married the Queen Dowager of France, sister of Henry VIII. At a tournament which he held at his wedding, the trappings of his horse were half cloth of gold, and half frieze, with the following motto:

'Cloth of Gold, do not despise, Tho' thou art matcht with Cloth of Frize; Cloth of Frize, be not too bold, Tho' thou art matcht with Cloth of Gold.'

See Sir W. Temple's Misc. vol. iii. p. 356." PERCY.

178, king he coming.

CONSTANCE OF CLEVELAND.

From Collier's _Book of Roxburghe Ballads_, p. 163.

"This romantic ballad, in a somewhat plain and unpretending style, relates incidents that may remind the reader of the old story of Titus and Gisippus, which was told in English verse by Edw. Lewicke, as early as 1562: the ballad is not so ancient by, perhaps, thirty or forty years; and the printed copy that has come down to our day is at least fifty years more recent than the date when we believe the ballad to have been first published. The title the broadside ('Printed for F. Coles, J. W., T. Vere, W. Gilbertson,') bears is, '_Constance of Cleveland: A very excellent Sonnet of the most fair Lady Constance of Cleveland, and her disloyal Knight_.' We conclude that the incidents are mere invention, but _Constance of Rome_ is the name of a play, by Drayton, Munday and Hathway, mentioned in Henslowe's Diary under the year 1600, (p. 171.) The tune of _Crimson Velvet_ was highly popular in the reigns of Elizabeth and her successor."

To the Tune of _Crimson Velvet_.

It was a youthfull knight Lov'd a gallant lady; Fair she was and bright, And of vertues rare: Herself she did behave 5 So courteously as may be; Wedded they were brave; Joy without compare. Here began the grief, Pain without relief: 10 Her husband soon her love forsook, To women lewd of mind, Being bad inclin'd, He only lent a pleasant look. The lady she sate weeping, 15 While that he was keeping Company with others moe: Her words, "My love, beleeve not, Come to me, and grieve not; Wantons will thee overthrow." 20

His fair Ladie's words Nothing he regarded; Wantonnesse affords Such delightfull sport. While they dance and sing, 25 With great mirth prepared, She her hands did wring In most grievous sort. "O what hap had I Thus to wail and cry, 30 Unrespected every day, Living in disdain, While that others gain All the right I should enjoy! I am left forsaken, 35 Others they are taken: Ah my love! why dost thou so? Her flatteries beleeve not, Come to me, and grieve not; Wantons will thee overthrow." 40

The Knight with his fair peece At length the Lady spied, Who did him daily fleece Of his wealth and store: Secretly she stood, 45 While she her fashions tryed, With a patient mind, While deep the strumpet swore. "O Sir Knight, O Sir Knight," quoth she, "So dearly I love thee, 50 My life doth rest at thy dispose: By day, and eke by night, For thy sweet delight, Thou shalt me in thy arms inclose. I am thine for ever; 55 Still I will persever True to thee, where ere I go." "Her flatteries believe not, Come to me, and grieve not; Wantons will thee overthrow." 60

The vertuous Lady mild Enters then among them, Being big with child As ever she might be: With distilling tears 65 She looked then upon them; Filled full of fears, Thus replyed she: "Ah, my love and dear! Wherefore stay you here, 70 Refusing me, your loving wife, For an harlot's sake, Which each one will take; Whose vile deeds provoke much strife? Many can accuse her: 75 O my love, O my love, refuse her! With thy lady home return. Her flatteries beleeve not, Come to me, and grieve not; Wantons will thee overthrow." 80

All in a fury then The angry Knight up started, Very furious when He heard his Ladie's speech. With many bitter terms 85 His wife he ever thwarted, Using hard extreams, While she did him beseech. From her neck so white He took away in spite 90 Her curious chain of purest gold, Her jewels and her rings, And all such costly things As he about her did behold. The harlot in her presence 95 He did gently reverence, And to her he gave them all: He sent away his Lady, Full of wo as may be, Who in a swound with grief did fall. 100

At the Ladie's wrong The harlot fleer'd and laughed; Enticements are so strong, They overcome the wise. The Knight nothing regarded 105 To see the Lady scoffed: Thus was she rewarded For her enterprise. The harlot, all this space, Did him oft embrace; 110 She flatters him, and thus doth say: "For thee Ile dye and live, For thee my faith Ile give, No wo shall work my love's decay; Thou shalt be my treasure, 115 Thou shalt be my pleasure, Thou shalt be my heart's delight: I will be thy darling, I will be thy worldling, In despight of fortune's spight." 120

Thus he did remain In wastfull great expences, Till it bred his pain, And consumed him quite. When his lands were spent, 125 Troubled in his sences, Then he did repent Of his late lewd life. For relief he hies, For relief he flyes 130 To them on whom he spent his gold: They do him deny, They do him defie; They will not once his face behold. Being thus distressed, 135 Being thus oppressed, In the fields that night he lay; Which the harlot knowing, Through her malice growing, Sought to take his life away. 140

A young and proper lad They had slain in secret For the gold he had, Whom they did convey By a ruffian lewd 145 To that place directly, Where the youthful Knight Fast a sleeping lay. The bloody dagger than, Wherewith they kill'd the man, 150 Hard by the Knight he likewise laid, Sprinkling him with blood, As he thought it good, And then no longer there he stayd. The Knight, being so abused, 155 Was forthwith accused For this murder which was done; And he was condemned That had not offended; Shamefull death he might not shun. 160

When the Lady bright Understood the matter, That her wedded Knight Was condemn'd to dye, To the King she went 165 With all the speed that might be, Where she did lament Her hard destiny. "Noble King!" quoth she, "Pitty take on me, 170 And pardon my poor husbands life; Else I am undone, With my little son: Let mercy mitigate this grief." "Lady fair, content thee; 175 Soon thou wouldst repent thee, If he should be saved so: Sore he hath abus'd thee, Sore he hath misus'd thee; Therefore, Lady, let him go." 180

"O my liege!" quoth she, "Grant your gracious favour: Dear he is to me, Though he did me wrong." The King reply'd again, 185 With a stern behaviour, "A subject he hath slain, Dye he shall ere long: Except thou canst find Any one so kind, 190 That will dye and set him free." "Noble King!" she said, "Glad am I apaid; That same person will I be. I will suffer duly, 195 I will suffer truly, For my love and husbands sake." The King thereat amazed, Though he her beauty praised, He bad from thence they should her take.

It was the King's command, 201 On the morrow after She should out of hand To the scaffold go: Her husband was 205 To bear the sword before her; He must eke, alas! Give the deadly blow. He refus'd the deed; She bid him to proceed, 210 With a thousand kisses sweet. In this wofull case They did both imbrace, Which mov'd the ruffians in that place Straight for to discover 215 This concealed murder; Whereby the lady saved was. The harlot then was hanged, As she well deserved: This did vertue bring to passe. 220

WILLOW, WILLOW, WILLOW.

From Percy's _Reliques_, i. 210.

This is the "song of willow" from which Desdemona sings snatches in the Fourth Act of _Othello_, (Sc. 3.) The portions which occur in Shakespeare are the first stanza, and fragments of the fifth, sixth, and seventh; he also introduces a couplet which does not belong to the ballad as here given.

The Second Part is very likely a separate composition. Songs upon this model or with the same burden were not infrequent. See one in Park's _Heliconia_, Part i. 132, and another in _The Moral Play of Wit and Science_, (Shakespeare Society,) p. 86.

Percy gave this song from a black-letter copy in the Pepys collection, entitled _A Lover's Complaint, being forsaken of his Love_. Another version, differing principally in arrangement, is printed in the above cited publication of the Shakespeare Society, p. 126, from a MS. in the British Museum, "written about the year 1633."

A poore soule sat sighing under a sicamore tree; _O willow, willow, willow!_ With his hand on his bosom, his head on his knee. _O willow, willow, willow!_ _O willow, willow, willow!_ 5 _Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garland._

He sigh'd in his singing, and after each grone, _Come willow, &c._ "I am dead to all pleasure, my true-love is gone. _O willow, &c._ 10 _Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garland._

"My love she is turned; untrue she doth prove; _O willow, &c._ She renders me nothing but hate for my love. _O willow, &c._ 15 _Sing, O the greene willow, &c._

"O pitty me," cried he, "ye lovers, each one; _O willow, &c._ Her heart's hard as marble; she rues not my mone. _O willow, &c._ 20 _Sing, O the greene willow, &c."_

The cold streams ran by him, his eyes wept apace; _O willow, &c._ The salt tears fell from him, which drowned his face. _O willow, &c._ 25 _Sing, O the greene willow, &c._

The mute birds sate by him, made tame by his mones; _O willow, &c._ The salt tears fell from him, which softened the stones. _O willow, &c._ 30 _Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garland._

"Let nobody blame me, her scornes I do prove; _O willow, &c._ She was borne to be faire; I, to die for her love. _O willow, &c._ 35 _Sing, O the greene willow, &c._

"O that beauty should harbour a heart that's so hard! _Sing willow, &c._ My true love rejecting without all regard. _O willow, &c._ 40 _Sing, O the greene willow, &c._

"Let love no more boast him in palace or bower; _O willow, &c._ For women are trothles, and flote in an houre. _O willow, &c._ 45 _Sing, O the greene willow, &c._

"But what helps complaining? In vaine I complaine: _O willow, &c._ I must patiently suffer her scorne and disdaine. _O willow, &c._ 50 _Sing, O the greene willow, &c._

"Come, all you forsaken, and sit down by me, _O willow, &c._ He that 'plaines of his false love, mine's falser than she. _O willow, &c._ 55 _Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garland._

"The willow wreath weare I, since my love did fleet; _O willow, &c._ A garland for lovers forsaken most meete. _O willow, &c._ 60 _Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garland!_"

PART THE SECOND.

"Lowe lay'd by my sorrow, begot by disdaine, _O willow, willow, willow!_ Against her too cruell, still, still I complaine. _O willow, willow, willow!_ _O willow, willow, willow!_ 5 _Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garland!_

"O love too injurious, to wound my poore heart, _O willow, &c._ To suffer the triumph, and joy in my smart! _O willow, &c._ 10 _Sing, O the greene willow, &c._

"O willow, willow, willow! the willow garlànd, _O willow, &c._ A sign of her falsenesse before me doth stand. _O willow, &c._ 15 _Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garland._

"As here it doth bid to despair and to dye, _O willow, &c._ So hang it, friends, ore me in grave where I lye. _O willow, &c._ 20 _Sing, O the greene willow, &c._

"In grave where I rest mee, hang this to the view, _O willow, &c._ Of all that doe knowe her, to blaze her untrue. _O willow, &c._ 25 _Sing, O the greene willow, &c._

"With these words engraven, as epitaph meet, _O willow, &c._ 'Here lyes one, drank poyson for potion most sweet.' _O willow, &c._ 30 _Sing, O the greene willow, &c._

"Though she thus unkindly hath scorned my love, _O willow, &c._ And carelesly smiles at the sorrowes I prove; _O willow, &c._ 35 _Sing, O the greene willow, &c._

"I cannot against her unkindly exclaim, _O willow, &c._ Cause once well I loved her, and honoured her name. _O willow, &c._ 40 _Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garland._

"The name of her sounded so sweete in mine eare, _O willow, &c._ It rays'd my heart lightly, the name of my deare; _O willow, &c._ 45 _Sing, O the greene willow, &c._

"As then 'twas my comfort, it now is my griefe; _O willow, &c._ It now brings me anguish; then brought me reliefe. _O willow, &c._ 50 _Sing, O the greene willow, &c._

"Farewell, faire false hearted, plaints end with my breath! _O willow, willow, willow!_ Thou dost loath me, I love thee, though cause of my death. _O willow, willow, willow!_ 55 _O willow, willow, willow!_ _Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garland._"

GREENSLEEVES.

From _A Handefull of Pleasant Delites_, &c., London, 1584, as reprinted in Park's _Heliconia_, vol. ii. p. 23. It is there entitled _A New Courtly Sonet of the Lady Greensleeves. To the new Tune of Greensleeves_.

"The earliest mention of the ballad of _Green Sleeves_, in the Registers of the Stationers' Company, is in September, 1580, when Richard Jones had licensed to him _A New Northern Dittye of the Lady Green Sleeves_."

"_Green Sleeves_, or _Which nobody can deny_, has been a favorite tune from the time of Elizabeth to the present day, and is still frequently to be heard in the streets of London to songs with the old burden, _Which nobody can deny_. It will also be recognized as the air of _Christmas comes but once a year_, and many another merry ditty." CHAPPELL'S _Popular Music of the Olden Time_, p. 227.

_Greensleeves_ is twice alluded to by Shakespeare in _The Merry Wives of Windsor_; Act ii. Sc. 1; Act v. Sc. 5.

Alas, my love, ye do me wrong To cast me oft discurteously, And I have loved you so long, Delighting in your companie. _Greensleeves was all my joy_, _Greensleeves was my delight_, _Greensleeves was my heart of gold_, _And who but Ladie Greensleeves_.

I have been readie at your hand 5 To grant what ever you would crave; I have both waged life and land, Your love and good will for to have. _Greensleeves was all my joy, &c._

I bought thee kerchers to thy head That were wrought fine and gallantly; 10 I kept thee both at boord and bed, Which cost my purse well favouredly. _Greensleeves was all my joie, &c._

I bought thee peticotes of the best, The cloth so fine as fine might be; I gave thee jewels for thy chest, 15 And all this cost I spent on thee. _Greensleeves was all my joie, &c._

Thy smock of silke, both faire and white, With gold embrodered gorgeously, Thy peticote of sendall right, And this I bought thee gladly.[L20] 20 _Greensleeves was all my joie, &c._

Thy girdle of gold so red, With pearles bedecked sumtuously,-- The like no other lasses had,-- And yet thou wouldest not love me. _Greensleeves was all my joie, &c._

Thy purse, and eke thy gay guilt knives, 25 Thy pincase, gallant to the eie,-- No better wore the burgesse wives,-- And yet thou wouldst not love me. _Greensleeves was all my joy, &c._

Thy crimson stockings, all of silk, With golde all wrought above the knee; 30 Thy pumps, as white as was the milk, And yet thou wouldst not love me. _Greensleeves was all my joie, &c._

Thy gown was of the grassie green, Thy sleeves of satten hanging by, Which made thee be our harvest queen, 35 And yet thou wouldst not love me. _Greensleeves was all my joie, &c._

Thy garters fringed with the golde, And silver aglets hanging by, Which made thee blithe for to beholde,-- And yet thou wouldst not love me. 40 _Greensleeves was all my joie, &c._

My gayest gelding I thee gave, To ride where ever liked thee, No ladie ever was so brave, And yet thou wouldst not love me. _Greensleeves was all my joie, &c._

My men were clothed all in green, 45 And they did ever wait on thee; All this was gallant to be seen, And yet thou wouldst not love me. _Greensleeves was all my joie, &c._

They set thee up, they took thee downe, They served thee with humilitie; 50 Thy foote might not once touch the ground, And yet thou wouldst not love me. _Greensleeves was all my joie, &c._

For everie morning, when thou rose, I sent thee dainties, orderly, To cheare thy stomack from all woes, 55 And yet thou wouldst not love me. _Greensleeves was all my joie, &c._

Thou couldst desire no earthly thing But stil thou hadst it readily; Thy musicke still to play and sing, And yet thou wouldst not love me. 60 _Greensleeves was all my joie, &c._

And who did pay for all this geare, That thou didst spend when pleased thee? Even I that am rejected here, And thou disdainst to love me. _Greensleeves was all my joie, &c._

Wel, I wil pray to God on hie 65 That thou my constancie maist see, And that yet once before I die Thou will vouchsafe to love me. _Greensleeves was all my joie, &c._

Greensleeves, now farewel, adue! God I pray to prosper thee, 70 For I am stil thy lover true; Come once againe, and love me! _Greensleeves was all my joie, &c._

20, And thus.

ROBENE AND MAKYNE.

This exceedingly pretty pastoral, the earliest poem of the kind in the Scottish language, is ascribed in the Bannatyne MS., where it is preserved, to Robert Henryson, who appears to have written in the latter half of the fifteenth century. All that is certainly known of the author is that he was chief schoolmaster of Dunfermline.

_Robene and Makyne_ was first printed by Ramsay in his _Evergreen_, (i. 56,) and afterwards by Lord Hailes, in _Ancient Scottish Poems published from the MS. of George Bannatyne_, (p. 98.) Some freedoms were taken with the text by Ramsay, and one line was altered by Lord Hailes. Our copy is given from Sibbald's _Chronicle of Scottish Poetry_, (i. 115,) where the manuscript is faithfully adhered to.

Robene sat on gud grene hill, Keipand a flok of fie: Mirry Makyne said him till, "Robene, thow rew on me; I haif thé luvit, lowd and still, 5 Thir yeiris two or thré; My dule in dern bot gif thow dill, Doutles bot dreid I dé."

Robene answerit, "Be the rude, Na thing of lufe I knaw, 10 Bot keipis my scheip undir yone wud; Lo quhair thay raik on raw. Quhat hes marrit thé in thy mude, Makyne, to me thow schaw; Or quhat is love, or to be lude? 15 Faine wald I leir that law."

"At luvis lair gife thow will leir, Tak thair ane A, B, C; Be kynd, courtas, and fair of feir, Wyse, hardy, and fré. 20 Sé that no denger do thé deir, Quhat dule in dern thow dré; Preiss thé with pane at all poweir, Be patient and previe."

Robene answerit her agane: 25 "I wait nocht quhat is luve, Bot I haif mervell in certaine, Quhat makis thé this wanrufe; The weddir is fair, and I am fane, My scheip gois haill aboif, 30 And we wald play us in this plane, They wald us bayth reproif."

"Robene, tak tent unto my taill, And wirk all as I reid, And thow sall haif my hairt all haill, 35 Eik and my madinheid. Sen God sendis bute for baill, And for murning remeid, I dern with thé bot gif I daill, Dowbtles I am bot deid." 40

"Makyne, to morne this ilka tyde, And ye will meit me heir; Perventure my scheip ma gang besyd, Quhyll we haif liggit full neir: Bot maugre haif I, and I byd, 45 Fra they begin to steir; Quhat lyis on hairt I will nocht hyd; Makyne, than mak gud cheir."

"Robene, thou reivis me roiss and rest; I luve bot thé allone." 50 "Makyne, adew, the sone gois west, The day is neirhand gone." "Robene, in dule I am so drest, That lufe will be my bone." "Ga lufe, Makyne, quhair evir thou list, 55 For leman I lue none."

"Robene, I stand in sic a style, I sicht, and that full sair." "Makyne, I haif bene heir this quyle: At hame God gif I wair!" 60 "My hinny, Robene, talk ane quhyle, Gif thou wilt do na mair." "Makyne, sum uthir man begyle, For hamewart I will fair."

Robene on his wayis went, 65 As licht as leif of tré; Makyne murnit in her intent, And trowd him nevir to sé. Robene brayd attour the bent; Than Makyne cryit on hie, 70 "Now ma thow sing, for I am schent! Quhat alis lufe with me?"

Makyne went hame withouttin faill, Full werry eftir cowth weip: Than Robene in a ful fair daill 75 Assemblit all his scheip. Be that sum parte of Makyne's ail Out throw his hairt cowd creip; He followit hir fast thair till assail, And till her tuke gude keep. 80

"Abyd, abyd, thou fair Makyne, A word for ony thing; For all my luve it sall be thyne, Withouttin departing. All haill! thy harte for till haif myne, 85 Is all my cuvating; My scheip to morn, quhill houris nyne, Will neid of no keping."

"Robene, thou hes hard soung and say, In gestis and storeis auld, 90 _The man that will not quhen he may, Sall haif nocht quhen he wald._ I pray to Jesu every day, Mot eik thair cairis cauld, That first preissis with thé to play, 95 Be firth, forrest, or fawld."

"Makyne, the nicht is soft and dry, The wedder is warme and fair, And the grene woud rycht neir us by To walk attour all quhair: 100 Thair ma na janglour us espy, That is to lufe contrair; Thairin, Makyne, bath ye and I, Unsene we ma repair."

"Robene, that warld is all away, 105 And quyt brocht till ane end, And nevir again thereto, perfay, Sall it be as thou wend; For of my pane thou maide it play, And all in vane I spend: 110 As thou hes done, sa sall I say, Murne on, I think to mend."

"Makyne, the howp of all my heill, My hairt on thé is sett, And evir mair to thé be leill, 115 Quhile I may leif but lett; Nevir to faill, as utheris faill, Quhat grace that evir I gett." "Robene, with thé I will not deill; Adew, for thus we mett." 120

Makyne went hame blyth anewche, Attoure the holtis hair; Robene murnit, and Makyne lewche; Scho sang, he sichit sair: And so left him, bayth wo and wreuch, 125 In dolour and in cair, Kepand his hird under a huche, Amang the holtis hair.

APPENDIX.

LORD BEICHAN AND SUSIE PYE. See p. 1.

_From Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads_, p. 260.

Young Beichan was in London born, He was a man of hie degree; He past thro' monie kingdoms great, Until he cam unto Grand Turkie.

He view'd the fashions of that land, 5 Their way of worship viewed he; But unto onie of their stocks He wadna sae much as bow a knee:

Which made him to be taken straight, And brought afore their hie jurie; 10 The savage Moor did speak upricht, And made him meikle ill to dree.

In ilka shoulder they've bor'd a hole, And in ilka hole they've put a tree; They've made him to draw carts and wains, 15 Till he was sick and like to dee.

But young Beichan was a Christian born, And still a Christian was he; Which made them put him in prison strang, And cauld and hunger sair to dree; 20 And fed on nocht but bread and water, Until the day that he mot dee.

In this prison there grew a tree, And it was unco stout and strang; Where he was chained by the middle, 25 Until his life was almaist gane.

The savage Moor had but ae dochter, And her name it was Susie Pye; And ilka day as she took the air, The prison door she passed bye. 30

But it fell ance upon a day, As she was walking, she heard him sing; She listen'd to his tale of woe, A happy day for young Beichan!

"My hounds they all go masterless, 35 My hawks they flee frae tree to tree, My youngest brother will heir my lands, My native land I'll never see."

"O were I but the prison-keeper, As I'm a ladie o' hie degree, 40 I soon wad set this youth at large, And send him to his ain countrie."

She went away into her chamber, All nicht she never clos'd her ee; And when the morning begoud to dawn, 45 At the prison door alane was she.

She gied the keeper a piece of gowd, And monie pieces o' white monie, To tak her thro' the bolts and bars; The lord frae Scotland she lang'd to see;-- 50 She saw young Beichan at the stake, Which made her weep maist bitterlie.

"O hae ye got onie lands," she says, "Or castles in your ain countrie? It's what wad ye gie to the ladie fair 55 Wha out o' prison wad set you free?"

"It's I hae houses, and I hae lands, Wi' monie castles fair to see, And I wad gie a' to that ladie gay, Wha out o' prison wad set me free." 60

The keeper syne brak aff his chains, And set Lord Beichan at libertie:-- She fill'd his pockets baith wi' gowd, To tak him till his ain countrie.

She took him frae her father's prison, 65 And gied to him the best o' wine; And a brave health she drank to him; "I wish, Lord Beichan, ye were mine!

"It's seven lang years I'll mak a vow, And seven lang years I'll keep it true; 70 If ye'll wed wi' na ither woman, It's I will wed na man but you."

She's tane him to her father's port, And gien to him a ship o' fame:-- "Farewell, farewell, my Scottish lord, 75 I fear I'll ne'er see you again."

Lord Beichan turn'd him round about, And lowly, lowly, loutit he:-- "Ere seven lang years come to an end, I'll tak you to mine ain countrie." 80

* * * *

Then when he cam to Glasgow town, A happy, happy man was he; The ladies a' around him thrang'd, To see him come frae slaverie.

His mother she had died o' sorrow, 85 And a' his brothers were dead but he; His lands they a' were lying waste, In ruins were his castles free.

Na porter there stood at his yett Na human creature he could see, 90 Except the screeching owls and bats, Had he to bear him companie.

But gowd will gar the castles grow, And he had gowd and jewels free; And soon the pages around him thrang'd, 95 To serve him on their bended knee.

His hall was hung wi' silk and satin, His table rung wi' mirth and glee; He soon forgot the lady fair, That lows'd him out o' slaverie. 100

Lord Beichan courted a lady gay, To heir wi' him his lands sae free, Ne'er thinking that a lady fair Was on her way frae Grand Turkie.

For Susie Pye could get na rest, 105 Nor day nor nicht could happy be, Still thinking on the Scottish Lord, Till she was sick and like to dee.

But she has builded a bonnie ship, Weel mann'd wi' seamen o' hie degree; 110 And secretly she stept on board, And bid adieu to her ain countrie.

But whan she cam to the Scottish shore, The bells were ringing sae merrilie; It was Lord Beichan's wedding day, 115 Wi' a lady fair o' hie degree.

But sic a vessel was never seen; The very masts were tapp'd wi' gold; Her sails were made o' the satin fine, Maist beautiful for to behold. 120

But whan the lady cam on shore, Attended wi' her pages three, Her shoon were of the beaten gowd, And she a lady of great beautie.

Then to the skipper she did say, 125 "Can ye this answer gie to me-- Where are Lord Beichan's lands sae braid? He surely lives in this countrie."

Then up bespak the skipper bold,-- For he could speak the Turkish tongue,-- 130 "Lord Beichan lives not far away; This is the day of his wedding."

"If ye will guide me to Beichan's yetts, I will ye well reward," said she,-- Then she and all her pages went, 135 A very gallant companie.

When she cam to Lord Beichan's yetts, She tirl'd gently at the pin; Sae ready was the proud porter To let the wedding guests come in. 140

"Is this Lord Beichan's house," she says, "Or is that noble lord within?" "Yes, he is gane into the hall, With his brave bride and monie ane."

"Ye'll bid him send me a piece of bread, 145 Bot and a cup of his best wine; And bid him mind the lady's love That ance did lowse him out o' pyne."

Then in and cam the porter bold,-- I wat he gae three shouts and three,-- 150 "The fairest lady stands at your yetts That ever my twa een did see."

Then up bespak the bride's mither,-- I wat an angry woman was she,-- "You micht hae excepted our bonnie bride, 155 Tho' she'd been three times as fair as she."

"My dame, your daughter's fair enough, And aye the fairer mot she be! But the fairest time that e'er she was, She'll na compare wi' this ladie. 160

"She has a gowd ring on ilka finger, And on her mid-finger she has three; She has as meikle gowd upon her head, As wad buy an earldom o' land to thee.

"My lord, she begs some o' your bread, 165 Bot and a cup o' your best wine, And bids you mind the lady's love That ance did lowse ye out o' pyne."

Then up and started Lord Beichan,-- I wat he made the table flee,-- 170 "I wad gie a' my yearlie rent 'Twere Susie Pye come owre the sea."

Syne up bespak the bride's mother,-- She was never heard to speak sae free,-- "Ye'll no forsake my ae dochter, 175 Tho' Susie Pye has cross'd the sea?"

"Tak hame, tak hame, your dochter, madam, For she is ne'er the waur o' me; She cam to me on horseback riding, And she sall gang hame in chariot free." 180

He's tane Susie Pye by the milk-white hand, And led her thro' his halls sae hie: "Ye're now Lord Beichan's lawful wife, And thrice ye're welcome unto me."

Lord Beichan prepar'd for another wedding, 185 Wi' baith their hearts sae fu' o' glee;-- Says, "I'll range na mair in foreign lands, Sin Susie Pye has cross'd the sea.

"Fy! gar a' our cooks mak ready; And fy! gar a' our pipers play; 190 And fy! gar trumpets gae thro' the toun, That Lord Beichan's wedded twice in a day!"

SWEET WILLIAM. See p. 29.

"Given from the chanting of an old woman. It has never been before printed." Motherwell's _Minstrelsy_, p. 307.

Other versions may be seen in that careless publication of the Percy Society, _Scottish Traditional Versions of Ancient Ballads_, vol. xvii. p. 57, _Lord William_, and in Buchan's _Ballads of the North of Scotland_, ii. 57, _Lord Lundy_.

Sweet William's gane over seas, Some unco lair to learn, And our gude Bailie's ae dochter Is awa to learn the same.

In ae braid buik they learned baith, 5 In ae braid bed they lay; But when her father cam to know, He gart her come away.

"It's you must marry that Southland lord, His lady for to be; 10 It's ye maun marry that Southland lord, Or nocht ye'll get frae me."

"I must marry that Southland lord, Father, an it be your will; But I'd rather it were my burial day, 15 My grave for to fill."

She walked up, she walked down, Had nane to mak her moan, Nothing but the pretty bird Sat on the causey stone. 20

"If thou could speak, wee bird," she says, "As weel as thou can flee, I would write a lang letter To Will ayont the sea."

"What thou wants wi' Will," it says, 25 "Thou'll seal it wi' thy ring; Tak a thread o' silk, and anither o' twine, And about my neck it hing."

What she wanted wi' Willie She sealed it wi' a ring; 30 Took a thread o' silk, anither of twine, About its neck did hing.

This bird flew high, this bird flew low, This bird flew owre the sea, Until it entered the same chamber 35 Wherein was sweet Willie.

This bird flew high, this bird flew low,-- Poor bird, it was mista'en,-- It loot the letter fa' on Baldie's breast, Instead of sweet William. 40

"Here's a letter, William," he says, "I'm sure it's not to me; And gin the morn gin twelve o'clock Your love shall married be."

"Come saddle to me my horse," he said, 45 "The brown and a' that's speedie, And I'll awa' to Old England, To bring hame my ladie."

Awa he gade, awa he rade, Awa wi' meikle speed; 50 He lichtit at every twa miles' end, Lichtit and changed his steed.

When she entered the church style, The tear was in her e'e; But when she entered the church door, 55 A blythe sight did she see.

"O hold your hand, you minister, Hold it a little wee, Till I speak wi' the bonnie bride, For she's a friend to me. 60

"Stand off, stand off, you braw bridegroom, Stand off a little wee; Stand off, stand off, you braw bridegroom, For the bride shall join wi' me."

Up and spak the bride's father, 65 And an angry man was he,-- "If I had pistol, powther and lead, And all at my command, It's I would shoot thee stiff and dead, In the place where thou dost stand." 70

Up and spoke then sweet William, And a blithe blink from his e'e: "If ye ne'er be shot till I shoot you, Ye'se ne'er be shot for me.

"Come out, come out, my foremost man, 75 And lift my lady on; Commend me all to my goodmother, At night when you gang home."

YOUNG CHILD DYRING. See p. 29.

Translated from the _Kj[oe]mpeviser_, in _Illustrations of Northern Antiquities_, p. 335.

It was the young Child Dyring, Wi' his mither rede did he: "I will me out ride Sir Magnus's bride to see." _His leave the page takes to-day from his master._

"Will thou thee out ride, 5 Sir Magnus's bride to see? Sae beg I thee by Almighty God Thou speed thee home to me." _His leave, &c._

Syne answer'd young Child Dyrè; He rode the bride to meet; 10 The silk but and the black sendell Hang down to his horse feet. _His leave, &c._

All rode they there, the bride-folk, On row sae fair to see, Excepting Sir Svend Dyrè, 15 And far about rode he. _His leave, &c._

It was the young Child Dyrè rode Alone along the strand; The bridle was of the red gold That glitter'd in his hand. 20 _His leave, &c._

'Twas then proud Lady Ellensborg, And under weed smil'd she; "And who is he, that noble child That rides sae bold and free?" _His leave, &c._

Syne up and spak the maiden fair 25 Was next unto the bride; "It is the young Child Dyrè That stately steed does ride." _His leave, &c._

"And is't the young Child Dyrè That rides sae bold and free? 30 God wot, he's dearer that rides that steed Nor a' the lave to me!" _His leave, &c._

All rode they there, the bridal train, Each rode his steed to stall; All but Child Dyrè, that look'd whare he 35 Should find his seat in the hall. _His leave, &c._

"Sit whare ye list, my lordings; For me, whate'er betide, Here I shall sickerly sit the day, To hald the sun frae the bride." 40 _His leave, &c._

Then up spak the bride's father, And an angry man was he; "Whaever sits by my dochter the day, Ye better awa' wad be." _His leave, &c._

"It's I have intill Paris been, 45 And well my drift can spell; And ay, whatever I have to say, I tell it best my sell." _His leave, &c._

"Sooth thou hast intill Paris lear'd A worthless drift to spell, 50 And ay, whatever thou hast to say, A rogue's tale thou must tell." _His leave, &c._

Ben stept he, young Child Dyrè, Nor reck'd he wha might chide; And he has ta'en a chair in hand, 55 And set him by the bride. _His leave, &c._

'Twas lang i' the night; the bride-folk Ilk ane look'd for his bed; And young Child Dyrè amang the lave Speer'd whare he should be laid. 60 _His leave, &c._

"Without, afore the stair steps, Or laigh on the cawsway stane, And there may lye Sir Dyrè, For ither bed we've nane." _His leave, &c._

'Twas ate intill the evening; 65 The bride to bed maun ga; And out went he, Child Dyring, To rouse his menyie a'. _His leave, &c._

"Now busk and d'on your harnass, But and your brynies blae, 70 And boldly to the bride-bower Full merrily we'll gae." _His leave, &c._

Sae follow'd they to the bride-bower That bride sae young and bright, And forward stept Child Dyrè, 75 And quenched the marriage light. _His leave, &c._

The cresset they've lit up again, But and the taper clear, And followed to the bride-bower That bride without a peer. 80 _His leave, &c._

* * * * * *

And up Child Dyrè snatch'd the bride, All in his mantle blae, And swung her all so lightly Upon his ambler gray. _His leave, &c._

They lock'd the bower, they lit the torch, 85 'Twas hurry-scurry a', While merrily ay the lovers gay Rode roundly to the shaw. _His leave, &c._

In Rosen-wood they turn'd about To pray their bridal prayer; 90 "Good night and joy, Sir Magnus! For us ye'll see nae mair." _His leave, &c._

Sae rode he to the green wood, And o'er the meadow green, Till he came to his mither's bower, 95 Ere folks to bed were gane. _His leave, &c._

Out came proud Lady Metelild, In menevair sae free; She welcom'd him, Child Dyring, And his young bride him wi'. 100 _His leave, &c._

Now joys attend Child Dyring, Sae leal but and sae bold; He's ta'en her to his ain castell, His bride-ale there to hold. _His leave the page takes to-day frae his master._

BARBARA LIVINGSTON. See p. 38.

Motherwell's _Minstrelsy_, p. 304, from recitation.

Four-and-twenty ladies fair Were playing at the ba', And out cam Barbara Livingston, The flower amang them a'.

Out cam Barbara Livingston, 5 The flower amang them a';-- The lusty Laird of Linlyon[L7] Has stoun her clean awa'.

"The hielands is no for me, kind sir, The hielands is no for me; 10 But if you would my favour win, Ye 'll tak me to Dundee."

"The hielands 'll be for thee, my dear, The hielands will be for thee; To the lusty Laird o' Linlyon 15 A-married ye shall be."

When they cam to Linlyon's yetts, And lichtit on the green, Every ane spak Earse to her,-- The tears cam trickling down. 20

When they went to bed at nicht, To Linlyon she did say, "Och and alace! a weary nicht, Oh! but it's lang till day."

"Your father's steed 's in my stable, 25 He 's eating corn and hay, And you 're lying in my twa arms; What need you lang for day?"

"If I had paper, pen, and ink, And candle for to see, 30 I would write a lang letter To my love in Dundee."

They brocht her paper, pen, and ink, And candle for to see, And she did write a lang letter 35 To her love in Dundee.

When he cam to Linlyon's yetts, And lichtit on the green; But lang or he wan up the stair His love was dead and gane. 40

Woe be to thee, Linlyon, An ill death may thou die! Thou might hae ta'en anither woman, And let my lady be.

7. Mr. Jamieson has "Glenlyon," which is probably the right name. M.

LANG JOHNNY MOIR. See p. 50.

From Buchan's _Ballads of the North of Scotland_, i. 248.

There lives a man in Rynie's land, Anither in Auchindore; The bravest lad amo' them a', Was lang Johnny Moir.

Young Johnny was an airy blade, 5 Fu' sturdy, stout, and strang; The sword that hang by Johnny's side, Was just full ten feet lang.

Young Johnny was a clever youth, Fu' sturdy, stout, and wight; 10 Just full three yards around the waist, And fourteen feet in hight.

But if a' be true they tell me now, And a' be true I hear, Young Johnny's on to Lundan gane, 15 The king's banner to bear.

He hadna been in fair Lundan But twalmonths twa or three, Till the fairest lady in a' Lundan Fell in love wi' young Johnny. 20

This news did sound thro' Lundan town, Till it came to the king, That the muckle Scot had fa'in in love Wi' his daughter, Lady Jean.

When the king got word o' that, 25 A solemn oath sware he; "This weighty Scott sall strait a rope, And hanged he shall be."

When Johnny heard the sentence past, A light laugh then gae he; 30 "While I hae strength to yield my blade, Ye darena a' hang me."

The English dogs were cunning rogues; About him they did creep, And ga'e him draps o' lodomy 35 That laid him fast asleep.

Whan Johnny waken'd frae his sleep, A sorry heart had he; His jaws and hands in iron bands, His feet in fetters three. 40

"O whar will I get a little wee boy Will work for meat and fee, That will rin on to my uncle, At the foot of Benachie?"

"Here am I, a little wee boy, 45 Will work for meat and fee, That will rin on to your uncle, At the foot of Benachie."

"Whan ye come whar grass grows green, Slack your shoes and rin; 50 And whan ye come whar water's strong, Ye'll bend your bow and swim.

"And whan ye come to Benachie, Ye'll neither chap nor ca'; Sae well's ye'll ken auld Johnny there, 55 Three feet abeen them a'.

"Ye'll gie to him this braid letter, Seal'd wi' my faith and troth; And ye'll bid him bring alang wi' him The body, Jock o' Noth." 60

"Whan he came whar grass grew green, He slack't his shoes and ran; And whan he came whar water's strong, He bent his bow and swam.

And whan he came to Benachie, 65 Did neither chap nor ca'; Sae well's he kent auld Johnny there, Three feet abeen them a'.

"What news, what news, my little wee boy? Ye never were here before;" 70 "Nae news, nae news, but a letter from Your nephew, Johnny Moir.

"Ye'll take here this braid letter, Seal'd wi' his faith and troth; And ye're bidden bring alang wi' you 75 The body, Jock o' Noth."

Benachie lyes very low, The tap o' Noth lyes high; For a' the distance that's between, He heard auld Johnny cry. 80

Whan on the plain these champions met, Twa grizly ghosts to see, There were three feet between her brows, And shoulders were yards three.

These men they ran ower hills and dales, 85 And ower mountains high; Till they came on to Lundan town, At the dawn o' the third day.

And whan they came to Lundan town, The yetts were lockit wi' bands; 90 And wha were there but a trumpeter, Wi' trumpet in his hands.

"What is the matter, ye keepers all, Or what's the matter within, That the drums do beat, and bells do ring, 95 And make sic dolefu' din?"

"There's naething the matter," the keeper said, "There's naething the matter to thee; But a weighty Scot to strait the rope, And the morn he maun die." 100

"O open the yetts, ye proud keepers, Ye'll open without delay;" The trembling keeper smiling said, "O I hae not the key."

"Ye'll open the yetts, ye proud keepers, 105 Ye'll open without delay; Or here is a body at my back Frae Scotland hae brought the key."

"Ye'll open the yetts," says Jock o' Noth, "Ye'll open them at my call;" 110 Then wi' his foot he has drove in Three yards braid o' the wall.

As they gaed in by Drury-lane, And down by the town's hall; And there they saw young Johnny Moir, 115 Stand on their English wall.

"Ye're welcome here, my uncle dear, Ye're welcome unto me; Ye'll loose the knot, and slack the rope, And set me frae the tree." 120

"Is it for murder, or for theft? Or is it for robberie? If it is for ony heinous crime, There's nae remeid for thee."

"It's nae for murder, nor for theft, 125 Nor yet for robberie; A' is for the loving a gay lady, They're gaun to gar me die."

"O whar's thy sword," says Jock o' Noth, "Ye brought frae Scotland wi' thee? 130 I never saw a Scotsman yet, But coud wield a sword or tree."

"A pox upo' their lodomy On me had sic a sway; Four o' their men, the bravest four, 135 They bore my blade away."

"Bring back his blade," says Jock o' Noth, "And freely to him it gie; Or I hae sworn a black Scot's oath, I'll gar five million die." 140

"Now whar's the lady?" says Jock o' Noth, "Sae fain I would her see;" "She's lock'd up in her ain chamber, The king he keeps the key."

So they hae gane before the king, 145 With courage bauld and free; Their armour bright cast sic a light, That almost dim'd his e'e.

"O whar's the lady," says Jock o' Noth, "Sae fain as I wou'd her see; 150 For we are come to her wedding, Frae the foot o' Benachie."

"O take the lady," said the king, "Ye welcome are for me; I never thought to see sic men 155 Frae the foot o' Benachie."

"If I had ken'd," said Jock o' Noth, "Ye'd wonder'd sae muckle at me, I wou'd hae brought ane larger far By sizes three times three." 160

"Likewise if I had thought I'd been Sic a great fright to thee, I'd brought Sir John o' Erskine park; He's thretty feet and three."

"Wae to the little boy," said the King, 165 "Brought tidings unto thee; Let all England say what they will, High hanged shall he be."

"O if ye hang the little wee boy Brought tidings unto me, 170 We shall attend his burial, And rewarded ye shall be."

"O take the lady," said the king, "And the boy shall be free:" "A priest, a priest," then Johnny cried, 175 "To join my love and me."

"A clerk, a clerk," the king replied, "To seal her tocher wi' thee." Out it speaks auld Johnny then, These words pronounced he: 180

"I wantnae lands and rents at hame, I'll ask nae gowd frae thee; I am possess'd o' riches great, Hae fifty ploughs and three; Likewise fa's heir to ane estate 185 At the foot o' Benachie.

"Hae ye ony masons in this place, Or ony at your call, That ye may now send some of them, To build your broken wall?" 190

"Yes, there are masons in this place, And plenty at my call; But ye may gang frae whence ye came, Never mind my broken wall."

They've ta'en the lady by the hand, 195 And set her prison free; Wi' drums beating, and fifes playing, They spent the night wi' glee.

Now auld Johnny Moir, and young Johnny Moir, And Jock o' Noth, a' three, 200 The English lady, and little wee boy, Went a' to Benachie.

LIZIE BAILLIE. See p. 73.

From Buchan's _Ballads of the North of Scotland_, ii. 173.

It fell about the Lammas time, When flowers were fresh and green, Lizie Baillie to Gartartan went, To see her sister Jean.

She meant to go unto that place, 5 To stay a little while; But mark what fortune her befell, When she went to the isle.[L8]

It fell out upon a day, Sheep-shearing at an end, 10 Lizie Baillie she walk'd out, To see a distant friend.

But going down in a low glen, She met wi' Duncan Græme, Who courted her along the way, 15 Likewise convoyed her hame.

"My bonny Lizie Baillie, I'll row you in my plaidie, If ye'll gang ower the hills wi' me, And be a Highland ladie." 20

"I winna gang alang wi' you; Indeed I maun confess, I can neither milk cow nor ewe, Nor yet can I speak Earse."

"O never fear, Lizie," he said, 25 "If ye will gang wi' me, All that is into my place, Can speak as gude Scotch as thee.

"But for a time we now maun part; I hinna time to tarry; 30 Next when we twa meet again, Will be in Castlecarry."

When Lizie tarried out her time, Unto her father's came, The very first night she arrived, 35 Wha comes but Duncan Græme.

Says, "Bonny Lizie Baillie, A gude deed mat ye die; Altho' to me ye brake your tryst, Now I am come for thee." 40

"O stay at hame," her father said, "Your mither cannot want thee; And gin ye gang awa' this night, We'll hae a Killycrankie."

"My bonny Lizie Baillie, 45 O come to me without delay; O wou'd ye hae sae little wit, As mind what odd folks wad say?"

She wou'dna hae the Lowlandman, That wears the coat sae blue; 50 But she wou'd hae the Highlandman, That wears the plaid and trews.

Out it spake her mother then, A sorry heart had she; Says, "Wae be to his Highland face, 55 That's taen my lass frae me!"

8. The island of Inchmahome, in the Lake of Menteith.

THE RARE BALLAD OF JOHNNIE FAA AND THE COUNTESS O'CASSILIS. See p. 114.

From Sheldon's _Minstrelsy of the English Border_, p. 329. The editor (or author, as he styles himself, indifferently) of that audacious work, asserts that he has "heard this ballad sung repeatedly by Willie Faa," and has "endeavored to preserve as much of his version as recollection would allow."

There were seven Gipsies in a gang, They were both brisk and bonny O, They rode till they came to the Earl of Castle's house, And there they sung so sweetly O.

The Earl of Castle's lady came down, 5 With her waiting maid beside her O; As soon as her handsome face they saw, They cast the glamour o'er her O.

They gave to her a nutmeg brown, Which was of the belinger O; 10 She gave to them a far better thing, The ring from off her finger O.

The Earl he flang his purse to them, For wow! but they sung bonny O; Gied them red wine and manchet cake, 15 And all for the Gipsy laddie O.

The Earl wad gae hunt in Maybole woods, For blythsome was the morning O, To hunt the deer wi' the yelping curs, Wi' the huntsman bugle sounding O. 20

The Countess went doun to the ha', To hae a crack at them fairly O; "And och," she cried, "I wad follow thee, To the end o' the world or nearly O."

He kist the Countess lips sae red, 25 And her jimp white waist he cuddled O; She smoothed his beard wi' her luvely hand, And a' for her Gipsy laddie O.

"And och," she cried, "that I should love thee, And ever wrong my Earlie O; 30 I ken there's glamour in mine e'ee, To follow a Gipsy laddie O."

Quo he, "Thou art ane Earl's ladye, And that is kent fu' fairly O; But if thou comest awa wi' me, 35 Thou'lt be a queen so rarely O.

"I'm Johnny Faa o' Yetholm town,[L37] There dwall my min and daddie O; And sweet Countess, I'm nothing less Than King o' the Gipsy laddies O." 40

She pull'd off her high heel'd shoes,-- They were made of Spanish leather O,-- She put on her Highland brogues, To follow the Gipsy laddie O.

At night, when my lord came riding home, 45 Enquiring for his lady O, The waiting maid made this reply-- "She's following the Gipsy laddie O."

"O now then," quo' the bonny Earl, "That ever siccan a thing suld be; 50 All ye that love, oh never build Your nest upon the topmost tree.

"For oh the green leaves they will fall, And roots and branches wither O; But the virtue o' a leal woman, 55 I trow wad never swither O.

"Go saddle me my mylk white steed, Go saddle it so sadly O, And I will ride out oure the lea, To follow her Gipsy laddie O. 60

"Go saddle me my bonny black, And eke my gray cowt quickly O; Gin I hae not Johnny Faa his head, The de'il may claw me tightly O.

"Have you been east, or have you been west, 65 Or have you been brisk and bonny O, Or have you seen a gay lady Following a Gipsy laddie O?"

He rode all the summer's night, And part of the next morning O; 70 At length he espied his own wedded wife, She was cold, wet, and weary O.

The leddy sabbed, the leddy cried, And wrung her hands sae sadly O; And aye her moan was to the Earl, 75 To spare her Gipsy laddie O.

"Why did you leave your houses and lands, Or why did you leave your money O, Or why did you leave your own wedded lord, To follow the Gipsy laddie O?" 80

"O what care I for houses and lands, Or what care I for money O? So as I have brew'd, so I will drink, So fare you well, my honey O."

They marched them to the gallows tree, 85 Whilst the Earl stood at the window O; And aye the smile was on his lip, As he thocht on the Gipsy laddie O.

There were seven Gipsies in a gang, They were so brisk and bonny O, 90 And they're to be hang'd all in a row, For the Earl o' Castle's leddy O.

37. "Yetholm, on the borders of Northumberland, situated among the recesses of the Cheviots, has ever been the headquarters of the Gipsy tribes. The Faas, (a corruption of Fall, their original designation,) the Youngs, Armstrongs, and Gordons still look up to this straggling village as their city of refuge." SHELDON.

JAMIE DOUGLAS. See p. 135.

From Finlay's _Scottish Ballads_, ii. 4.

When I fell sick, an' very sick, An' very sick, just like to die, A gentleman of good account He cam on purpose to visit me; But his blackie whispered in my lord's ear, 5 He was owre lang in the room wi' me.

"Gae little page, an' tell your lord, Gin he will come and dine wi' me, I'll set him on a chair of gold, And serve him on my bended knee." 10

The little page gaed up the stair,-- "Lord Douglass, dine wi' your ladie: She'll set ye on a chair of gold, And serve you on her bended knee."

"When cockle shells turn silver bells, 15 When wine drieps red frae ilka tree, When frost and snaw will warm us a', Then I'll cum down an' dine wi' thee."

But whan my father gat word o' this, O what an angry man was he! 20 He sent fourscore o' his archers bauld To bring me safe to his countrie.

When I rose up then in the morn, My goodly palace for to lea', I knocked at my lord's chamber door, 25 But ne'er a word wad he speak to me.

But slowly, slowly, rose he up, And slowly, slowly, cam he down, And when he saw me set on my horse, He caused his drums and trumpets soun. 30

"Now fare ye weel my goodly palace, And fare ye weel, my children three; God grant your father grace to love you, Far more than ever he loved me."

He thocht that I was like himsel, 35 That had a woman in every hall; But I could swear by the heavens clear, I never loved man but himsel.

As on to Embro' town we cam, My guid father he welcomed me; 40 He caused his minstrels meet to sound,-- It was nae music at a' to me.

"Now haud your tongue, my daughter dear, Leave off your weeping, let it be; For Jamie's divorcement I'll send over; 45 Far better lord I'll provide for thee."

"O haud your tongue, my father dear, And of such talking let me be; For never a man shall come to my arms, Since my lord has sae slighted me." 50

O an' I had ne'er crossed the Tweed, Nor yet been owre the river Dee, I might hae staid at Lord Orgul's gate, Where I wad hae been a gay ladie.

The ladies they will cum to town, 55 And they will cum and visit me; But I'll set me down now in the dark, For ochanie! who'll comfort me?

An' wae betide ye, black fastness,[L59] Ay, and an ill deid may ye die! 60 Ye was the first and foremost man Wha parted my true lord and me.

59: fastness, printed Fastness by Finlay, is, says Motherwell, merely falsetness, falseness.

LAIRD OF BLACKWOOD. See p. 135.

Kinloch's _Ancient Scottish Ballads_, p. 60.

"I lay sick, and very sick, And I was bad, and like to die, A friend o' mine cam to visit me;-- And Blackwood whisper'd in my lord's ear, That he was owre lang in chamber wi' me. 5

"O what need I dress up my head, Nor what need I kaim doun my hair, Whan my gude lord has forsaken me, And says he will na love me mair!

"But O! an my young babe was born, 10 And set upon some nourice knee, And I mysel war dead and gane,-- For a maid again I'll never be."--

"Na mair o' this, my dochter dear, And of your mourning let abee; 15 For a bill of divorce I'll gar write for him, A mair better lord I'll get for thee."

"Na mair o' this, my father dear, And of your folly let abee; For I wad na gie ae look o' my lord's face, 20 For a' the lords in the haill countrie.

"But I'll cast off my robes o' red, And I'll put on my robes o' blue; And I will travel to some other land, To see gin my love will on me rue. 25

"There sall na wash come on my face, There sall na kaim come on my hair; There sall neither coal nor candle licht Be seen intil my bouer na mair.

"O! wae be to thee Blackwood, 30 And an ill death may ye die, For ye've been the haill occasion Of parting my lord and me."

THE PROVOST'S DOCHTER. See p. 180.

Kinloch's _Ancient Scottish Ballads_, p. 131.

The Provost's dochter went out a walking, _A may's love whiles is easie won_; She heard a puir prisoner making his meane, And she was the fair flow'r o' Northumberland.

"Gif onie ladie wad borrow me 5 Out into this prison strang, I wad make her a ladie o' hie degree, For I am a gret lard in fair Scotland."

She has dune her to her father's bed-stock, _A may's love whiles is easie won_! 10 She has stown the keys o' monie braw lock, And she has lows'd him out o' prison strang.

She has dune her to her father's stable, _A may's love whiles is easie won_! She has tane out a steed, baith swift and able, 15 To carry them baith to fair Scotland.

Whan they cam to the Scottish corss, _A may's love whiles is easie won_! "Ye brazen-faced hure, licht aff o' my horse, And go, get ye back to Northumberland." 20

Whan they cam to the Scottish muir, _A may's love whiles is easie won_! "Get aff o' my horse, ye brazen-fac'd hure, So, go, get ye back to Northumberland."

"O pity on me! O pity!" said she, 25 "O that my love was so easie won! Have pity on me, as I had upon thee, Whan I lows'd ye out o' prison strang."

"O how can I hae pity on thee? O why was your love sae easie won? 30 Whan I hae a wife and children three, Mair worthy than a' in Northumberland."

"Cook in your kitchen I will be,-- O that my love was sae easie won! And serve your lady maist reverentlie, 35 For I darna gang back to Northumberland."

"Cook in my kitchen, ye sall not be,-- Why was your love so easie won? For I will hae na sic servants as thee, So, get ye back to Northumberland. 40

But laith was he the lassie to tyne, _A may's love whiles is easie won_! He hired an auld horse, and fee'd an auld man, To carry her back to Northumberland.

Whan she cam her father afore, 45 _A may's love whiles is easie won_! She fell at his feet on her knees sae low,-- She was the fair flow'r o' Northumberland.

"O dochter, dochter, why was ye bauld, O why was your love sae easie won! 50 To be a Scot's hure in your fifteen year auld, And ye the fair flow'r o' Northumberland!"

Her mother on her sae gentlie smil'd,-- "O that her love was sae easie won! She's na the first that the Scots hae beguil'd, 55 And she's still the fair flow'r o' Northumberland.

"She shanna want gowd, she shanna want fee, Although her love was easie won; She shanna want gowd to gain a man wi', And she'll still be the fair flow'r o' Northumberland." 60

BLANCHEFLOUR, AND JELLYFLORICE.

From Buchan's _Ballads of the North of Scotland_, i. 125.

A fragment of the ancient English romance of _Florice and Blancheflour_ is printed in Hartshorne's _Metrical Tales_, p. 81. For the complete story (hardly a trace of which is retained in the following ballad) see Ellis's _Early English Metrical Romances_.

There was a maid, richly array'd, In robes were rare to see; For seven years and something mair, She serv'd a gay ladie.

But being fond o' a higher place, 5 In service she thought lang; She took her mantle her about, Her coffer by the band.

And as she walk'd by the shore side, As blythe's a bird on tree, 10 Yet still she gaz'd her round about, To see what she could see.

At last she spied a little castle, That stood near by the sea; She spied it far, and drew it near, 15 To that castle went she.

And when she came to that castle, She tirled at the pin; And ready stood a little wee boy To lat this fair maid in. 20

"O who's the owner of this place, O porter boy, tell me?" "This place belongs unto a queen O' birth and high degree."

She put her hand in her pocket, 25 And ga'e him shillings three; "O porter bear my message well, Unto the queen frae me."

The porter's gane before the queen, Fell low down on his knee; 30 "Win up, win up, my porter boy, What makes this courtesie?"

"I ha'e been porter at your yetts, My dame, these years full three, But see a ladie at your yetts, 35 The fairest my eyes did see."

"Cast up my yetts baith wide and braid, Lat her come in to me; And I'll know by her courtesie, Lord's daughter if she be." 40

When she came in before the queen, Fell low down on her knee; "Service frae you, my dame, the queen, I pray you grant it me."

"If that service ye now do want, 45 What station will ye be? Can ye card wool, or spin, fair maid, Or milk the cows to me?"

"No, I can neither card nor spin, Nor cows I canno' milk; 50 But sit into a lady's bower, And sew the seams o' silk."

"What is your name, ye comely dame? Pray tell this unto me: "O Blancheflour, that is my name, 55 Born in a strange countrie."

"O keep ye well frae Jellyflorice; My ain dear son is he; When other ladies get a gift, O' that ye shall get three." 60

It wasna tald into the bower, Till it went thro' the ha', That Jellyflorice and Blancheflour Were grown ower great witha'.

When the queen's maids their visits paid, 65 Upo' the gude Yule day, When other ladies got horse to ride, She boud take foot and gae.

The queen she call'd her stable groom, To come to her right seen; 70 Says, "Ye'll take out yon wild waith steed, And bring him to the green.

"Ye'll take the bridle frae his head, The lighters frae his e'en; Ere she ride three times roun' the cross, 75 Her weel days will be dune."

Jellyflorice his true love spy'd, As she rade roun' the cross; And thrice he kiss'd her lovely lips, And took her frae her horse. 80

"Gang to your bower, my lily flower, For a' my mother's spite; There's nae other amang her maids, In whom I take delight.

"Ye are my jewel, and only ane, 85 Nane's do you injury; For ere this-day-month come and gang, My wedded wife ye'se be."

CHIL ETHER.

From Buchan's _Ballads of the North of Scotland_, ii. 228.

Chil Ether and Lady Maisry Were baith born at ae birth; They lov'd each other tenderlie, Boon every thing on earth.

"They ley likes na the summer shower, 5 Nor girse the mornin' dew, Better, dear Lady Maisry, Than Chil Ether loves you."

"The bonny doo likes na its mate, Nor babe at breast its mither, 10 Better, my dearest Chil Ether, Than Maisry loves her brither."

But he needs gae to gain renown, Into some far countrie; And Chil Ether has gaen abroad, 15 To fight in Paynimie.

And he has been in Paynimie A twalvemonth and a day; But never nae tidings did there come, Of his welfare to say. 20

Then she's ta'en ship, awa' to sail, Out ower the roaring faem; A' for to find him, Chil Ether, And for to bring him hame.

She hadna sail'd the sea a month, 25 A month but barely three, Until she landit on Ciper's shore, By the meen-licht sae lie.

Lady Maisry did on her green mantle, Took her purse in her hand, 30 And call'd to her her mariners, Syne walk'd up thro' the land.

She walked up, sae did she down, Till she came till castell high; There she sat down on the door stane, 35 And weepit bitterlie.

Then out it spake a sweet, sweet voice, Out ower the castell wa', "Now isna that Lady Maisry That makes sic a dolefu' fa'? 40

"But gin that be Lady Maisry, Lat her make mirth and glee; For I'm her brother, Chil Ether, That loves her tenderlie.

"But gin that be Lady Maisry, 45 Lat her take purse in hand; And gang to yonder castell wa',-- They call it Gorinand.

"Spier for the lord o' that castell, Gie'm dollars thirty-three; 50 Tell him to ransom Chil Ether, That loves you tenderlie."

She's done her up to that castell, Paid down her gude monie; And sae she's ransom'd Chil Ether, 55 And brought him hame her wi'.

YOUNG BEARWELL.

"A fragment, and now printed in the hope that the remainder of it may hereafter be recovered. From circumstances, one would almost be inclined to trace it to a Danish source; or it may be an episode of some forgotten Metrical Romance: but this cannot satisfactorily be ascertained, from its catastrophe being unfortunately wanting." _Motherwell's Minstrelsy_, p. 345.

The same is in Buchan's _Ballads of the North of Scotland_, ii. 75.

When two lovers love each other weel, Great sin it were them to twinn; And this I speak from young Bearwell; He loved a lady ying, The Mayor's daughter of Birktoun-brae, 5 That lovely leesome thing.

One day when she was looking out, When washing her milk-white hands, Then she beheld him young Bearwell,[L9] As he came in the sands. 10

Says,--"Wae 's me for you, young Bearwell, Such tales of you are tauld; They 'll cause you sail the salt sea so far As beyond Yorkisfauld."

"O shall I bide in good green wood, 15 Or stay in bower with thee?" * * * * * * * * * * * *

"The leaves are thick in good green wood, Would hold you from the rain; And if you stay in bower with me, You will be taken and slain. 20

"But I caused build a ship for you, Upon Saint Innocent's day; I 'll bid Saint Innocent be your guide, And Our Lady, that meikle may. You are a lady's first true love; 25 God carry you weel away!"

Then he sailed east and he sailed west, By many a comely strand; At length a puff of northern wind Did blow him to the land. 30

When he did see the king and court, Were playing at the ba'; Gave him a harp into his hand, Says,--"Stay, Bearwell, and play."

He had not been in the king's court 35 A twelvemonth and a day, Till there came lairds and lords enew, To court that lady gay.

They wooed her with broach and ring, They nothing could keep back; 40 The very charters of their lands Into her hands they pat.

She 's done her down to Heyvalin, With the light of the mune: Says,--"Will ye do this deed for me, 45 And will ye do it sune?

"Will ye go seek him young Bearwell, On seas wherever he be? And if I live and bruik my life, Rewarded ye shall be." 50

"Alas, I am too young a skipper, So far to sail the faem; But if I live and bruik my life, I 'll strive to bring him hame."

So he has sail'd east and then sail'd west, 55 By many a comely strand; Till there came a blast of northern wind, And blew him to the land.

And there the king and all his court Were playing at the ba'; 60 Gave him a harp into his hand, Says,--"Stay, Heyvalin, and play."

He has tane up the harp in hand, And unto play went he; And young Bearwell was the first man 65 In all that companie.

9, That.

LORD THOMAS OF WINESBERRY AND THE KING'S DAUGHTER.

From Buchan's _Ballads of the North of Scotland_, ii. 212. Another version is given in Buchan's _Gleanings_, p. 127, and a third by Kinloch, p. 93. Kinloch considers that the ballad may relate to the secret expedition of James V. to France, in 1536, in search of a wife. In the last verse of his copy of the ballad, Lord Thomas turns out to be no less a man than the King of Scotland.

Seven years the king he staid Into the land of Spain, And seven years true Thomas was His daughter's chamberlain.

But it fell ance upon a day 5 The king he did come home; She beked and she benjed ben, And did him there welcome.

"What aileth you, my daughter, Janet, You look sae pale and wan? 10 There is a dreder in your heart, Or else ye love a man."

"There is no dreder in my heart, Nor do I love a man; But it is for your long byding 15 Into the land of Spain."

"Ye'll cast aff your bonny brown gown, And lay it on a stane; And I'll tell you, my jelly Janet, If ever ye loved a man." 20

She's cast off her bonny brown gown, And laid it on a stane; Her belly was big, her twa sides high, Her colour it was quite gane.

"O is it to a man o' might, Janet? 25 Or is it till a man that's mean? Or is it to one of my poor soldiers, That I've brought hame frae Spain?"

"It's not till a man o' might," she says, "Nor yet to a man that's mean; 30 But it is to Thomas o' Winesberry, That cannot langer len'."

"O where are all my wall-wight men, That I pay meat and fee; That will gae for him, true Thomas, 35 And bring him here to me? For the morn, ere I eat or drink, High hanged shall he be."

She's turn'd her right and round about, The tear blindet her e'e; 40 "If ye do any ill to true Thomas, Ye'se never get guid o' me."

When Thomas came before the king, He glanced like the fire; His hair was like the threads o' gowd, 45 His eyes like crystal clear.

"It was nae wonder, my daughter, Janet, Altho' ye loved this man; If he were a woman, as he is a man, My bed-fellow he would been. 50

"O will ye marry my daughter Janet? The truth's in your right hand; Ye'se hae some o' my gowd, and some o' my gear, And the twalt part o' my land."

"It's I will marry your daughter Janet; 55 The truth's in my right hand; I'll hae nane o' your gowd, nor nane o' your gear, I've enough in my own land.

"But I will marry your daughter Janet, With thirty ploughs and three, 60 And four an' twenty bonny breast-mills, All on the water of Dee.

LADY ELSPAT.

Jamieson's _Popular Ballads_, ii. 191. From the recitation of Mrs. Brown.

"How brent's your brow, my Lady Elspat? How gouden yellow is your hair? O' a' the maids o' fair Scotland, There's nane like Lady Elspat fair."

"Perform your vows, sweet William," she says, 5 "The vows which ye ha' made to me; And at the back o' my mither's castell, This night I'll surely meet wi' thee."

But wae be to her brother's page, That heard the words thir twa did say; 10 He's tald them to her lady mither, Wha wrought sweet William mickle wae.

For she has ta'en him, sweet William, And she's gar'd bind him wi' his bow string, Till the red bluid o' his fair body 15 Frae ilka nail o' his hand did spring.

O it fell ance upon a time That the Lord-justice came to town; Out has she ta'en him, sweet William, Brought him before the Lord-justice boun'. 20

"And what is the crime, now, lady," he says, "That has by this young man been dane?" "O he has broken my bonny castell, That was weel biggit wi' lime and stane.

"And he has broken my bonny coffers, 25 That was weel bandit wi' aiken ban; And he has stown my rich jewels; I wot he has stown them every ane."

Then out it spak her Lady Elspat, As she sat by Lord-justice' knee; 30 "Now ye hae told your tale, mither, I pray, Lord-justice, ye'll now hear me.

"He hasna broken her bonny castell, That was weel biggit wi' lime and stane; Nor has he stown her rich jewels, 35 For I wat she has them every ane.

"But though he was my first true love, And though I had sworn to be his bride, 'Cause he hadna a great estate, She would this way our loves divide." 40

Syne out and spak the Lord-justice, I wat the tear was in his e'e; "I see nae faut in this young man; Sae loose his bands, and set him free.

"And tak your love, now, Lady Elspat, 45 And my best blessin' you baith upon; For gin he be your first true love, He is my eldest sister's son.

"There stands a steed in my stable, Cost me baith gold and white mony; 50 Ye's get as mickle o' my free land As he'll ride about in a summer's day."

THE LOVERS QUARREL; OR, CUPIDS TRIUMPH.

"This 'pleasant History,' which 'may be sung to the tune of Floras Farewell,' is here republished from a copy printed at London for F. Cotes and others, 1677, 12mo. bl. 1., preserved in the curious and valuable collection of that excellent and most respected antiquary Antony à Wood, in the Ashmolean Museum; compared with another impression, for the same partners, without date, in the editor's possession. A different copy of the poem, more in the ballad form, was published, and may be found among the king's pamphlets in the British Museum. Both copies are conjectured to have been modernized, by different persons, from some common original, which has hitherto eluded the vigilance of collectors, but is strongly suspected to have been the composition of an old North country minstrel.

"The full title is, _The Lovers Quarrel: or Cupids Triumph: being the pleasant history of Fair Rosamond of Scotland. Being daughter to the Lord Arundel, whose love was obtained by the valour of Tommy Pots: who conquered the Lord Phenix, and wounded him, and after obtained her to be his wife. Being very delightful to read_." RITSON, _Pieces of Ancient Popular Poetry_, p. 135.

Of all the lords in Scotland fair, And ladies that been so bright of blee, There is a noble lady among them all, And report of her you shall hear by me.

For of her beauty she is bright, 5 And of her colour very fair, She's daughter to Lord Arundel, Approv'd his parand and his heir.

"Ile see this bride," Lord Phenix said, "That lady of so bright a blee, 10 And if I like her countenance well, The heir of all my lands she'st be."

But when he came the lady before, Before this comely maid came he, "O God thee save, thou lady sweet, 15 My heir and parand thou shalt be."

"Leave off your suit," the lady said, "As you are a lord of high degree; You may have ladies enough at home, And I have a lord in mine own country: 20

"For I have a lover true of mine own, A serving-man of low degree, One Tommy Pots it is his name, My first love, and last that ever shall be."

"If that Tom Pots [it] is his name, 25 I do ken him right verily; I am able to spend fourty pounds a week, Where he is not able to spend pounds three."

"God give you good of your gold," she said, "And ever God give you good of your fee, 30 Tom Pots was the first love that ever I had, And I do mean him the last to be."

With that Lord Phenix soon was mov'd; Towards the lady did he threat; He told her father, and so it was prov'd, 35 How his [fair] daughters mind was set.

"O daughter dear, thou art my own, The heir of all my lands to be; Thou shalt be bride to the Lord Phenix, If that thou mean to be heir to me." 40

"O father dear, I am your own, And at your command I needs must be, But bind my body to whom you please, My heart, Tom Pots, shall go with thee."

Alas! the lady her fondness must leave, 45 And all her foolish wooing lay aside; The time is come her friends have appointed, That she must be Lord Phenix bride.

With that the lady began to weep; She knew not well then what to say, 50 How she might Lord Phenix deny, And escape from marriage quite away.

She call'd unto her little foot-page, Saying, "I can trust none but thee; Go carry Tom Pots this letter fair, 55 And bid him on Guildford-green meet me:

"For I must marry against my mind, Or in faith well proved it shall be; And tell to him I am loving and kind, And wishes him this wedding to see. 60

"But see that thou note his countenance well, And his colour, and shew it to me; And go thy way and hie thee again,[L63] And forty shillings I will give thee.

"For if he smile now with his lips, 65 His stomach will give him to laugh at the heart; Then may I seek another true love, For of Tom Pots small is my part.

"But if he blush now in his face, Then in his heart he will sorry be; 70 Then to his vow he hath some grace, And false to him I'le never be."

Away this lacky-boy he ran, And a full speed forsooth went he, Till he came to Strawberry-castle, 75 And there Tom Pots came he to see.

He gave him the letter in his hand; Before that he began to read, He told him plainly by word of mouth, His love was forc'd to be Lord Phenix bride. 80

When he look'd on the letter fair, The salt tears blemished his eye; Says, "I cannot read this letter fair, Nor never a word to see or spy.

"My little boy, be to me true, 85 Here is five marks I will give thee; And all these words I must peruse; And tell my lady this from me:

"By faith and troth she is my own, By some part of promise, so it's to be found; 90 Lord Phenix shall not have her night nor day, Except he can win her with his own hand.

"On Guildford-green I will her meet; Say that I wish her for me to pray, For there I'le lose my life so sweet, 95 Or else the wedding I mean to stay."

Away this lackey-boy he ran, Then as fast as he could hie; The lady she met him two miles of the way; Says, "Why hast thou staid so long, my boy? 100

"My little boy, thou art but young, It gives me at heart thou'l mock and scorn; Ile not believe thee by word of mouth, Unless on this book thou wilt be sworn."

"Now by this book," the boy did say, 105 "And Jesus Christ be as true to me, Tom Pots could not read the letter fair, Nor never a word to spy or see.

"He says, by faith and troth you are his own, By some part of promise, so it's to be found; 110 Lord Phenix shall not have you night nor day, Except he win you with his own hand.

"On Guildford-green he will you meet; He wishes you for him to pray, For there he'l lose his life so sweet, 115 Or else the wedding he means to stay."

"If this be true, my little boy, These tidings which thou tellest to me, Forty shillings I did thee promise, Here is ten pounds I will give thee. 120

"My maidens all," the lady said, "That ever wish me well to prove, Now let us all kneel down and pray, That Tommy Pots may win his love.

"If it be his fortune the better to win, 125 As I pray to Christ in trinity, Ile make him the flower of all his kin, For the young Lord Arundel he shall be."

63, high.

THE SECOND PART.

Let's leave talking of this lady fair, In prayers full good where she may be; 130 Now let us talk of Tommy Pots; To his lord and master for aid went he.

But when he came Lord Jockey before, He kneeled lowly on his knee; "What news, what news, thou Tommy Pots, 135 Thou art so full of courtesie?

"What tydings, what tydings, thou Tommy Pots, Thou art so full of courtesie? Thou hast slain some of thy fellows fair, Or wrought to me some villany." 140

"I have slain none of my fellows fair, Nor wrought to you no villany, But I have a love in Scotland fair, And I fear I shall lose her with poverty.

"If you'l not believe me by word of mouth, 145 But read this letter, and you shall see, Here by all these suspitious words That she her own self hath sent to me."

But when he had read the letter fair, Of all the suspitious words in it might be, 150 "O Tommy Pots, take thou no care, Thou'st never lose her with poverty.

"For thou'st have forty pounds a week, In gold and silver thou shalt row, And Harvy town I will give thee, 155 As long as thou intend'st to wooe.

"Thou'st have forty of thy fellows fair, And forty horses to go with thee, Forty of the best spears I have, And I myself in thy company." 160

"I thank you, master," said Tommy Pots, "That proffer is too good for me; But, if Jesus Christ stand on my side, My own hands shall set her free.

"God be with you, master," said Tommy Pots, 165 "Now Jesus Christ you save and see; If ever I come alive again, Staid the wedding it shall be."

"O God be your speed, thou Tommy Pots, Thou art well proved for a man; 170 See never a drop of blood thou spil, Nor yonder gentleman confound.

"See that some truce with him thou take, And appoint a place of liberty; Let him provide him as well as he can, 175 As well provided thou shalt be."

But when he came to Guildford-green, And there had walkt a little aside, There he was ware of Lord Phenix come, And Lady Rosamond his bride. 180

Away by the bride then Tommy Pots went, But never a word to her he did say, Till he the Lord Phenix came before; He gave him the right time of the day.

"O welcome, welcome, thou Tommy Pots, 185 Thou serving-man of low degree; How doth thy lord and master at home, And all the ladies in that country?"

"My lord and master is in good health, I trust since that I did him see; 190 Will you walk with me to an out-side, Two or three words to talk with me?

"You are a noble man," said Tom, "And born a lord in Scotland free; You may have ladies enough at home, 195 And never take my love from me."

"Away, away, thou Tommy Pots; Thou serving-man, stand thou aside; It is not a serving-man this day, That can hinder me of my bride." 200

"If I be a serving-man," said Tom, "And you a lord of high degree, A spear or two with you I'le run, Before I'le lose her cowardly.

"Appoint a place, I will thee meet, 205 Appoint a place of liberty; For there I'le lose my life so sweet, Or else my lady I'le set free."

"On Guildford-green I will thee meet; No man nor boy shall come with me." 210 "As I am a man," said Tommy Pots, "I'le have as few in my company."

And thus staid the marriage was, The bride unmarried went home again; Then to her maids fast did she laugh, 215 And in her heart she was full fain.

"My maidens all," the lady said, "That ever wait on me this day, Now let us all kneel [lowly] down, And for Tommy Pots let us all pray. 220

"If it be his fortune the better to win, As I trust to God in trinity, Ile make him the flower of all his kin, For the young Lord Arundel he shall be."

THE THIRD PART.

When Tom Pots came home again, 225 To try for his love he had but a week; For sorrow, God wot, he need not care, For four days that he fel sick.

With that his master to him came, Says, "Pray thee, Tom Pots, tell me if thou doubt Whether thou hast gotten thy gay lady, 231 Or thou must go thy love without."

"O master, yet it is unknown; Within these two days well try'd it must be; He is a lord, I am but a serving-man, 235 I fear I shall lose her with poverty."

"I prethee, Tom Pots, get thee on thy feet, My former promises kept shall be; As I am a lord in Scotland fair, Thou'st never lose her with poverty. 240

"For thou'st have the half of my lands a year, And that will raise thee many a pound; Before thou shalt out-braved be, Thou shalt drop angels with him on the ground."

"I thank you, master," said Tommy Pots, 245 "Yet there is one thing of you I would fain; If that I lose my lady sweet, How I'st restore your goods again?"

"If that thou win the lady sweet, Thou mayst well forth thou shalt pay me: 250 If thou losest thy lady, thou losest enough; Thou shalt not pay me one penny."

"You have thirty horses in one close, You keep them all both frank and free; Amongst them all there's an old white horse 255 This day would set my lady free.

"That is an old horse with a cut tail, Full sixteen years of age is he; If thou wilt lend me that old horse, Then could I win her easily." 260

"That's a foolish opinion," his master said, "And a foolish opinion thou tak'st to thee; Thou'st have a better then ever he was, Though forty pounds more it should cost me."

"O your choice horses are wild and tough, 265 And little they can skill of their train; If I be out of my saddle cast, They are so wild they'l ne'r be tain."

"Thou'st have that horse," his master said, "If that one thing thou wilt tell me;[L270] 270 Why that horse is better than any other, I pray thee, Tom Pots, shew thou to me."

"That horse is old, of stomach bold, And well can he skill of his train; If I be out of my saddle cast, 275 He'l either stand still, or turn again."

"Thou'st have the horse with all my heart, And my plate coat of silver free; An hundred men to stand at thy back, To fight if he thy master be." 280

"I thank you master," said Tommy Pots, "That proffer is too good for me; I would not for ten thousand pounds, Have man or boy in my company.

"God be with you, master," said Tommy Pots, 285 "Now, as you are a man of law, One thing let me crave at your hand; Let never a one of my fellows know.

"For if that my fellows they did wot, Or ken of my extremity, 290 Except you keep them under a lock, Behind me I'm sure they would not be."

But when he came to Guildford-green, He waited hours two or three; There he was ware of Lord Phenix come, 295 And four men in his company.

"You have broken your vow," said Tommy Pots, "The vow which you did make to me; You said you would bring neither man nor boy, And now has brought more than two or three." 300

"These are my men," Lord Phenix said, "Which every day do wait on me; If any of them dare proffer to strike, I'le run my spear through his body."

"I'le run no race now," said Tommy Pots, 305 "Except now this may be; If either of us be slain this day, The other shall forgiven be."

"I'le make that vow with all my heart, My men shall bear witness with me; 310 And if thou slay me here this day, In Scotland worse belov'd thou never shalt be."

They turn'd their horses thrice about, To run the race so eagerly; Lord Phenix he was fierce and stout, 315 And ran Tom Pots through the thick o' th' thigh.

He bor'd him out of the saddle fair, Down to the ground so sorrowfully: "For the loss of my life I do not care, But for the loss of my fair lady. 320

"Now for the loss of my lady sweet, Which once I thought to have been my wife, I pray thee, Lord Phenix, ride not away, For with thee I would end my life."

Tom Pots was but a serving-man, 325 But yet he was a doctor good; He bound his handkerchief on his wound, And with some kind of words he stancht his blood.[L329]

He leapt into his saddle again, The blood in his body began to warm; 330 He mist Lord Phenix body fair, And ran him through the brawn of the arm.

He bor'd him out of his saddle fair, Down to the ground most sorrowfully; Says, "Prethee, Lord Phenix, rise up and fight, 335 Or yield my lady unto me."

"Now for to fight I cannot tell, And for to fight I am not sure; Thou hast run me throw the brawn o' the arm, That with a spear I may not endure. 340

"Thou'st have the lady with all my heart; It was never likely better to prove With me, or any nobleman else, That would hinder a poor man of his love."

"Seeing you say so much," said Tommy Pots, 345 I will not seem your butcher to be; But I will come and stanch your blood, If any thing you will give me."

As he did stanch Lord Phenix blood, Lord! in his heart he did rejoice; 350 "I'le not take the lady from you thus, But of her you'st have another choice.

"Here is a lane of two miles long; At either end we set will be; The lady shall stand us among, 355 Her own choice shall set her free."

"If thou'l do so," Lord Phenix said, "To lose her by her own choice it's honesty; Chuse whether I get her, or go her without, Forty pounds I will give thee." 360

But when they in that lane was set, The wit of a woman for to prove, "By the faith of my body," the lady said, "Then Tom Pots must needs have his love."

Towards Tom Pots the lady did hie, 365 To get behind him hastily; "Nay stay, nay stay," Lord Phenix said, "Better proved it shall be.

"Stay you with your maidens here, In number fair they are but three; 370 Tom Pots and I will go behind yonder wall, That one of us two be proved to dye."

But when they came behind the wall, The one came not the other nigh; For the Lord Phenix had made a vow, 375 That with Tom Pots he would never fight.

"O give me this choice," Lord Phenix said, "To prove whether true or false she be, And I will go to the lady fair, And tell her Tom Pots slain is he." 380

When he came from behind the wall, With his face all bloody as it might be, "O lady sweet, thou art my own, For Tom Pots slain is he.

"Now have I slain him, Tommy Pots, 385 And given him deaths wounds two or three; O lady sweet, thou art my own; Of all loves, wilt thou live with me?"

"If thou hast slain him, Tommy Pots, And given him deaths wounds two or three, 390 I'le sell the state of my fathers lands, But hanged shall Lord Phenix be."

With that the lady fell in a swound, For a grieved woman, God wot, was she; Lord Phenix he was ready then, 395 To take her up so hastily.

"O lady sweet, stand thou on thy feet, Tom Pots alive this day may be; I'le send for thy father, Lord Arundel, 400 And he and I the wedding will see.

"I'le send for thy father, Lord Arundel, And he and I the wedding will see; If he will not maintain you well, Both lands and livings you'st have of me."

"I'le see this wedding," Lord Arundel said, 405 "Of my daughters luck that is so fair; Seeing the matter will be no better, Of all my lands Tom Pots shall be the heir."

With that the lady began for to smile, For a glad woman, God wot, was she; 410 "Now all my maids," the lady said, "Example you may take by me.

"But all the ladies of Scotland fair, And lasses of England that well would prove, Neither marry for gold nor goods, 415 Nor marry for nothing but only love.

"For I had a lover true of my own, A serving-man of low degree; Now from Tom Pots I'le change his name, For the young Lord Arundel he shall be." 420

v. 270, me tell.

329, _i. e._ he made use of a charm for that purpose.

THE MERCHANT'S DAUGHTER OF BRISTOW.

From Collier's _Book of Roxburghe Ballads_, p. 104.

"This narrative ballad, which is full of graceful but unadorned simplicity, is mentioned in Fletcher's _Monsieur Thomas_, (Act iii. Sc. 3,) by the name of _Maudlin the Merchant's Daughter_. Two early editions of it are known: one without printer's name, (clearly much older than the other,) is that which we have used; we may conclude that it was written considerably before James I. came to the throne. It was last reprinted in 1738, but in that impression it was much modernized and corrupted."

Behold the touchstone of true love, Maudlin the Merchant's Daughter of Bristow towne, Whose firme affection nothing could move; This favour beares the lovely browne.

A gallant youth was dwelling by, 5 Which many yeares had borne this lady great good will; Shee loved him so faithfully, But all her friends withstood it still.

The young man now, perceiving well He could not get nor win the favour of her friends, 10 The force of sorrow to expell To view strange countreys hee intends.

And now, to take his last farewell Of his true love, his faire and constant Maudlen, With musicke sweete that did excell 15 Hee plaies under her window then.

"Farewell," quoth he, "mine owne true love, Farewell, my deare, and chiefest treasure of my heart! Through fortune's spight, that false did prove, I am inforc'd from thee to part, 20

"Into the land of Italy: There wil I waile, and weary out my dayes in wo; Seeing my true love is kept from mee, I hold my life a mortal fo.

"Faire Bristow towne, therefore, adieu, 25 For Padua shall bee my habitation now; Although my love doth lodge in thee, To whom alone my heart I vow."

With trickling teares this hee did sing, With sighs and sobs descending from his heart full sore: Hee said, when he his hands did wring, 31 "Farewell, sweet love, for evermore!"

Fair Maudlin, from a window high Beholding her true love with musicke where hee stood, But not a word she durst reply, 35 Fearing her parents angry mood.

In teares she spent this dolefull night, Wishing (though naked) with her faithfull friend: She blames her friends, and fortune's spight, That wrought their loves such lucklesse end. 40

And in her heart shee made a vow Cleane to forsake her country and her kinsfolkes all, And for to follow her true love, To bide all chance that might befall.

The night is gone, and the day is come, 45 And in the morning very early shee did rise: She gets her downe in a lower roome, Where sundrie seamen she espies.

A gallant master amongst them all, (The master of a faire and goodlie ship was he) 50 Who there stood waiting in the hall, To speake with her father, if it might be.

She kindly takes him by the hand: "Good sir," said shee, "would you speake with any heere?" Quoth he, "Faire maid, therefore I stand:" 55 "Then, gentle sir, I pray you draw neere."

Into a pleasant parlour by, With hand in hand she brings the seaman all alone; Sighing to him most piteously, She thus to him did make her moane. 60

Shee falls upon her tender knee: "Good sir," she said, "now pittie you a woman's woe, And prove a faithfull friend to me, That I my griefe to you may shew."

"Sith you repose your trust," he said, 65 "To me that am unknowne, and eke a stranger heere, Be you assur'd, most proper maid, Most faithfull still I will appeare."

"I have a brother, then," quoth shee, "Whom as my life I love and favour tenderlie: 70 In Padua, alas! is he, Full sicke, God wot, and like to die.

"And faine I would my brother see, But that my father will not yeeld to let me goe; Wherefore, good sir, be good to mee, 75 And unto me this favour shew.

"Some ship-boye's garment bring to mee, That I disguis'd may goe away from hence unknowne; And unto sea Ile goe with thee, If thus much favour may be showne." 80

"Faire maid," quoth he, "take heere my hand: I will fulfill each thing that you desire, And set you safe in that same land, And in that place that you require."

She gave him then a tender kisse, 85 And saith, "Your servant, gallant master, will I be, And prove your faithfull friend for this: Sweet master, then, forget not me."

This done, as they had both decreed, Soone after (early) before the breake of day, 90 He brings her garments then with speed, Wherein she doth her selfe array:

And ere her father did arise, Shee meets her master as he walkes in the hall: Shee did attend on him likewise, 95 Even till her father did him call.

But ere the Merchant made an end Of all the matters to the master he could say, His wife came weeping in with speed, Saying, "Our daughter is gone away!" 100

The Merchant, thus amaz'd in mind, "Yonder vile wretch intic'd away my child," quoth he; "But, well I wot, I shall him find At Padua, in Italy."

With that bespake the master brave: 105 "Worshipfull master, thither goes this pretty youth, And any thing that you would have, He will performe it, and write the truth."

"Sweet youth," quoth hee, "if it be so, Beare me a letter to the English merchants there, 110 And gold on thee I will bestow: My daughter's welfare I do feare."

Her mother takes her by the hand; "Faire youth," qd she, "if there thou dost my daughter see, Let me thereof soone understand, 115 And there is twenty crownes for thee."

Thus, through the daughter's strange disguise, The mother knew not when shee spake unto her child; And after her master straightway shee hies, Taking her leave with countenance milde. 120

Thus to the sea faire Maudlin is gone With her gentle master; God send them a merry wind; Where wee a while must let them alone, Till you the second part doe find.

THE SECOND PART.

"Welcome, sweete Maudlin, from the sea, 125 Where bitter stormes and tempests doe arise: The plesant bankes of Italy Wee may behold with mortal eyes."

"Thankes, gentle master," then quoth shee; "A faithfull friend in sorrow hast thou beene; 130 If fortune once doth smile on mee, My thankfull heart shall well bee seene.

"Blest be the land that feedes my love! Blest be the place where as his person doth abide! No triall will I sticke to prove, 135 Whereby my true love may be tride.

"Nowe will I walke with joyful heart, To viewe the towne where as my darlinge doth remaine, And seeke him out in every part, Untill I doe his sight attaine." 140

"And I," quoth he, "will not forsake Sweete Maudlin in her sorrow up and downe: In wealth and woe thy part Ile take, And bring thee safe to Padua towne."

And after many wearie steps 145 In Padua they safely doe arrive at last: For very joy her heart it leapes; She thinkes not of her sorrowes past.

Condemned to dye hee was, alas! Except he would from his religion turne; 150 But rather then hee would to masse, In fiery flames he vow'd to burne.

Now doth Maudlin weepe and waile: Her joy is chang'd to weeping, sorrow, griefe and care; But nothing could her plaints prevaile, 155 For death alone must be his share.

Shee walkes under the prison walls, Where her true love doth lye and languish in distresse; Most wofully for foode he calls, When hunger did his heart oppresse. 160

He sighs and sobs and makes great moane: "Farewell," hee said, "sweete England, now for evermore, And all my friends that have me knowne In Bristow towne with wealth and store.

"But most of all farewell," quoth hee, 165 "My owne true love, sweet Maudlin, whom I left behind; For never more shall I see thee. Woe to thy father most unkind!

"How well were I, if thou wert here, With thy faire hands to close these wretched eyes: 170 My torments easie would appeare; My soule with joy shall scale the skies."

When Maudlin heard her lover's moane, Her eyes with teares, her heart with sorrow filled was: To speake with him no meanes is knowne, 175 Such grievous doome on him did passe.

Then she cast off her lad's attire; A maiden's weede upon her back she seemely set; To the judge's house shee did enquire, And there shee did a service get. 180

Shee did her duty there so well, And eke so prudently she did her selfe behave, With her in love her master fell; His servant's favour hee doth crave.

"Maudlin," quoth hee, "my heart's delight, 185 To whom my heart is in affection tied, Breed not my death through thy despight; A faithfull friend I will be tryed.

"Grant me thy love, faire maid," quoth hee, "And at my hands require what thou canst devise, 190 And I will grant it unto thee, Whereby thy credit may arise."

"I have a brother, sir," she said, "For his religion is now condemned to dye: In loathsome prison hee is layd, 195 Opprest with griefe and misery.

"Grant me my brother's life," shee said, "And to you my love and liking I will give." "That may not be," quoth hee, "faire maid; Except he turne, he cannot live." 200

"An English Frier there is," shee said, "Of learning great and passing pure of life, Let him to my brother be sent, And he will finish soone the strife."

Her master hearing this request, 205 The marriner in frier's weed she did array, And to her love, that lay distrest, Shee did a letter straight convey.

When hee had read these gentle lines, His heart was ravished with sudden joy; 210 Where now shee was full well hee knew: The frier likewise was not coy;

But did declare to him at large The enterprise for him his love had taken in hand. The young man did the frier charge, 215 His love should straight depart the land.

"Here is no place for her," hee said, "But woefull death and danger of her harmlesse life: Professing truth I was betraid, And fearfull flames must end my strife. 220

"For, ere I will my faith deny, And sweare my selfe to follow damned Antichrist, Ile yeeld my body for to die, To live in heaven with the highest."

"O sir!" the gentle frier said, 225 "For your sweet love recant, and save your wished life. A wofull match," quoth hee, "is made Where Christ is lost to win a wife."

When she had wrought all meanes that might To save her friend, and that she saw it would not bee, Then of the judge shee claimed her right, 231 To die the death as well as hee.

When no perswasion could prevaile, Nor change her mind in any thing that shee had said, She was with him condemned to die, 235 And for them both one fire was made.

And arme in arme most joyfully These lovers twaine unto the fire they did goe: The marriner most faithfully Was likewise partner of their woe. 240

But when the judges understood The faithfull friendship did in them remaine, They saved their lives; and afterward To England sent them home againe.

Now was their sorrow turned to joy, 245 And faithfull lovers had now their heart's desire: Their paines so well they did imploy, God granted that they did require.

And when they were to England come, And in merry Bristow arrived at the last, 250 Great joy there was to all and some That heard the dangers they had past.

Her gentle master shee desired To be her father, and at the church to give her then: It was fulfilled as shee required, 255 Unto the joy of all good men.

GLOSSARY.

[hand] Figures placed after words denote the pages in which they occur.

a', _all_.

abee, _be_.

abeen, aboif, _above_.

ae, _one_.

aglets, _tags to laces_.

airy, ery, _fearful_, _inspiring dread_.

among, 144, _from time to time_.

and, _if_.

anew, _enough_.

anewche, _enough_.

angel, _a gold coin, varying in value from about six shillings and eight pence to ten shillings_.--Halliwell's _Dict._

apaid, _satisfied_.

as who sayeth, _so to speak_.

at, _that_.

attour, _over_, _across_.

auld son, _a relative term for a boy older than the youngest_.

ava, _of all_.

ayont, _beyond_.

baill, _sorrow_.

balow, _a word used in lulling children_.

ban, _band_.

banning, _cursing_.

bed-stock, _the side of the bed further from the wall_.

begoud, _began_.

beked, 305, _made warm_?

belinger, 283 ?

bemean, 86, _disparage_.

ben, _in_.

benjed, 305, _received hospitably_, _made preparations for his comfort_?

besyd, 247, _astray_.

be that, _by that_.

bewray, _discord_.

bier, _cry_.

bierdly, _stately_.

bigged, biggit, _built_.

Billy Blin, _a benignant household fairy, like the Lubber Fiend_.

binna, _be not_.

birk, _birch_.

birling, _drinking_.

blae, _blue_.

blaewort, _blue bottle_, _witch bells_.

blee, _complexion_.

blin'd, _blinded_.

bone, 247, _bane_.

boon, _above_.

borrow, _ransom_, _rescue_.

bot dreid, 246, _without doubt_.

boud, 297 ?

bought, _a pen in the corner of a fold, into which the ewes are driven to be milked_.

bower, _chamber_, _dwelling_.

brae, _hill-side_.

braken, _female fern_.

braw, _brave_, _fine_, _handsome_.

brawn, 93, _calf of the leg_.

brayd attour the bent, 248, _strode across the grass or field_.

brent, 308, _high_, _straight_.

bride-ale, _a wedding festival so called from the brides selling ale on the wedding day, in return for which she received a large price by way of present_.

bruik, _enjoy_.

brynies, _cuirasses_.

bug, _built_.

burd, _lady_.

burn, _brook_.

busk, _dress_, _adorn_, _make ready_.

but, _out_.

but and, _but also_.

bute [boot], _help_.

ca', _called_.

caddie, _errand-boy_.

cairis, _cares_.

camovine, _camomile_.

can, _know_.

chap, _rap_.

certaine, in, _certainly_.

close, _enclosure_, _an enclosed field_.

coffer, _coif_, _a woman's head-dress_?

coft, _bought_.

cog, _milking-pail_.

confound, _destroy_.

corss, _cross_.

cowt, _colt_.

cowth, cowd, 248, _could_, _used as an auxiliary to form the preterit tense_.

crack, _merry talk_.

cramasie, _crimson_.

cruds, _curds_.

cute, _ancle_.

cuvating, _coveting_.

daurna, _dare not_.

daut, _fondle_.

dead, _death_.

dearly, _dear_.

dee, _die_.

dee, _do_.

deed, _death_.

deill, 250, _deal_; 247, _dally_?

deir, 246, _frighten_.

dele, 144, _particle_, _bit_.

departe, 147, _separate_; departing, 249, _dividing_.

dern, _secret_.

dey, _dairy woman_.

dill, _assuage_, _soothe_.

dings, _beats_.

disparage, 157, _cause to match unequally_.

distan, _distinguish_.

distrayne, _distress_.

d'on, _do on_, _don_.

dought, _dread_.

dre, _suffer_.

dreder, _dread_.

dreed, _suffered_.

drest, 247, _placed_; in dule I am so drest, _I am so plunged in sorrow_.

drie, _bear_, _endure_.

dule, _sorrow_.

dyke, _wall_.

echeon, _each one_.

een, _eyes_.

een, _one_.

enew, _enough_.

eik, _increase_.

fa', 300 ?

fair, _go_.

fa's [fa as], _I have my lot as_.

fauld-dyke, _wall of the fold_.

fawn, _fallen_.

fee, _money_, _possessions_.

feir, 246, _appearance_, _demeanor_.

fie, _cattle of any kind_, _sheep_.

firth, _an enclosed wood_, _a field within a wood_.

fit, _foot_.

forbears, _ancestors_.

forbye, _on one side_.

fou, _full_.

fra, 247, _from the time that_.

fre, free, _noble_.

fy, 260, _haste_!

gait, _way_.

gaits, _goats_.

gar, _cause_, _make_.

gare, below her, _below the gore in the edge of her skirt? or below her dress merely?_

gaucy, 76, _burly_, _strong_.

gear, _goods_.

girse, _grass_.

glamer, glamour, _a charm exercised on the eye_.

God before, _God guide you_!

haill, _healthy_; 247, _whole_.

haik up, 83, _carry off by force_, Jamieson. (?)

hald, _hold_, _heep_.

hap, _covering_; happed, _covered_.

hard, _heard_.

hardely, _assuredly_.

haud, _hold_; haud unthocht lang, _keep from growing weary_.

her, _their_.

heill, hele, _health_.

hes, _hast_.

het, _hot_.

hich, _high_.

hie, on, _aloud_.

hinna, _have not_.

hinny, _darling_.

his alane, _alone by himself_.

Hollans boats, 13. Qy. _holly-boats_?

holland, _holly_.

hooding o' grey, 66, _hodden-grey_, _cloth with the natural color of the wool_.

holtis hair, 250, _uplands bleak_.

howp, _hope_.

huche, _crag_, _steep bank_.

I dern with the bot gif I daill, 247; _unless I secretly dally with thee_?

I'st, _I shall_.

ilke, _each_; this ilka, _this same_.

intill, 83, _upon_.

intent, 248, _thought_, _mind_.

in worth, 205, _gladly_, _contentedly_.

janglour, _prater_.

jimp, _slender_.

kail-blade, _leaf of colewort_.

kail-yardie, _kitchen garden_.

kebbuck, _cheese_.

keep, _heed_.

keipand, _keeping_.

kenna, _know not_.

kep, _catch_.

kilt, kilted, _tucked up_.

kintra, _country_.

knicking, 110, _wringing_, _so as to make snap_.

knowe, _knoll_.

kye, _cows_.

laigh, _low_.

lair, lore, _doctrine_.

lake, 120, _reproach_.

lauch, _laugh_.

lave, _rest_.

laverock, _lark_.

lawe, 149, _custom_.

lax, _relief_, _release_.

lea', _leave_.

leal, _true_.

lear'd, _learned_.

lee-lang, _live-long_.

leed, _language_.

leesome, _pleasant_, _amiable_.

leif, 250, _live_.

leir, _learn_.

lend ye till, 26, _lean upon_.

len, 308, _lie concealed_.

leuch, _laughed_.

leve, 147, _remain_.

lewche, _laughed_.

ley, _lea_.

lichtit, _lighted_.

lichtly, _undervalue_.

lie, _lonely_, _sad_.

liggit, _lain_.

lighters, _blinders_.

liltin, _singing_.

lirk, _hollow_ (_of a hill_).

lodomy, _laudanum_.

long of, 211, _on account of_.

looing, _loving_.

loot, _let_.

lore, 149, _doctrine_.

loup, _leap_.

lourd, _liefer_, _rather_.

loutit, _bowed_.

lown, _loon_, _worthless fellow_.

lowse, _loose_.

lue, _love_; lude, 246, _loved_.

maining, _moaning_, _crying_.

manchet, _the finest kind of white bread_.

mane, _moan_.

marrit, 246, _marred_, _disordered_.

marys, _maids_.

maugre, 247, _ill-will_, _blame_.

maun, _must_.

may, _maid_.

meen, _moon_; meen-licht, _moon-light_.

menji, 81, _many_; menyie, _company of followers_.

min, _mother_.

mot, _may_, _might_.

mouls, _dust of the dead_.

muckle, _big_, _much_.

mude, _mood_, _mind_.

murnit, _mourned_.

nae, _not_.

neirhand, _nearly_.

niest, _next_.

nocht, _nought_.

och, ochanie, _interjections of grief_.

odd, 281, _old_.

oo, _one_.

ower great, _too familiar_.

pall, _rich cloth_.

parand; heir and parand, _heir apparent_.

pat, _put_.

perde, _par dieu_.

perfay, _par foi_.

pine, _pain_, _grief_.

pitten, _put_.

plow, _as much land as can properly be tilled by one plough in a day_.

prest, 204, _ready_.

previe, _secret_.

put down, 117, _hung_.

pyne, _pain_.

quhair, &c., _where, &c._; all quhair, _every where_.

quhill, 249, _until_.

raik on raw, 246, _range or extend themselves in a row_.

ramp, _rude_, _wild_, _violent_.

rantin', _boisterously gay_, _rollicking_.

rattons, _rats_.

recorde, _witness_.

red, _advice_, _plan_.

redding-comb, _comb for redding_, _or combing out, the hair_.

rede, reid, _advise_.

reivis, _deprivest of_.

remeve, 155, _remove or trouble_.

repreve, _reprove_.

rescous, _rescue_.

rew, _take pity_.

rigs, _ridges_.

roiss, _rest_.

rove, _roof_.

row, _roll_; row'd, _rolled_.

royal bane, 12, _the same as_ ruel bone, _an unknown material often mentioned in romances_.

rude, _rood_, _cross_.

rue, _take pity_; ruthe, _pity_.

sanna, _shall not_.

sark, _shirt_.

scant, _lessen_.

scheel, _school_.

schent, _shamed_, _disgraced_.

see, _protect_.

sen, _since_.

sendall, _a rich thin silk_.

sets, 105, _sits_, _fits_.

shaw, _thicket_, _wood_.

shealin, 66, _shed for sheep_.

she'as, _sheaths_.

sheave, _slice_.

sheens, _shines_.

she'st, _she shall_.

shill, 59, _shrill_.

shun, _soon_.

sic, siccan, _such_.

sicht, _sigh_; sichit, _sighed_.

sickerly, _certainly_.

silly, _simple_.

sith, _since_.

skill of their train, _understand their training_.

slap, 96, _a breach in a wall or hedge_.

speer'd, speir'd, _asked_.

spell; drift can spell, 267, _tell my meaning or story_.

splene, on the, 156?

spring, 65, _youth_, _young_.

sta', _stole_.

states, 169, _people of high rank_.

staw, _stole_.

staws, _stalls_.

steir, _stir_.

stey, _steep_.

stown, _stolen_.

streek'd, _stroaked_.

suspitious, "_significant_."--Ritson.

swither, _waver_.

syne, _then_.

tane, _taken_.

tapp'd, _topped_.

tent, _heed_.

Termagant, _an imaginary false god of the heathen_.

thair, _there_.

than, _then_.

thinking long, see _thought lang_.

thir, _these_.

this, _thus_.

thoo, _those_.

thought, 147, _trouble_.

thought lang, _felt the time hang heavily_, _felt ennui_.

thoust, _thou wilt_.

till, _to_, _for_; 245, _to_; till assail 248, _to assail_; till haif, 249, _to have_.

tirled at the pin, _trilled_, or _rattled, at the door-pin, or latch, to obtain entrance_.

tocher, _dowry_.

tod, _fox_.

tomorne, _to-morrow_.

ton, _one_ (_after the_).

tree, 3, 253, _stick_, _pole_, or perhaps, _whipple-tree_; 276, _staff_.

trew, _trow_.

trinkling, _trickling_.

trow, _believe_.

twalt, _twelfth_.

twinn, _part_.

tyne, _lose_.

unco, _strange_, _foreign_.

upricht, 253, _straightway_?

wae, _sad_.

waged, _staked_.

wait, _wot_, _know_.

waith, _wandering_.

wald, _would_.

wale, _choice_.

wall-wight, 306, _picked_ (waled) _strong men_, or _warriors_.

waly, _an interjection of lamentation_.

wanrufe, 246, _disquietude_.

wan up, _got up_.

wat, _wot_, _know_.

waur, _worse_.

wee, 269, _short time_.

weed, _clothes_.

weel, _well_.

weel-busket, _well trimmed_.

weel-far'd, weel-faurd, _well-favored_.

wend, 280, _weened_.

werry, 248, _weary_, _sorrowful_.

whae's aught, _who is it owns_.

whingers, "_a short hanger, used as a knife at meals and as a sword in broils_."

wight, _strong or nimble_.

win, _get_, _go_; win to, _attain or get to_; win up, _get up_.

win, _to make the harvest_.

winna, _will not_.

winsome, _pleasant_.

wisna, _know not_.

worldling, 230, _pet_?

wow, _exclamation of admiration, or surprise_.

wreuch, _wretched_.

yede, _went_.

yef, _if_.

ye'se, _ye shall_.

yestreen, _yesterday_.

yett, _gate_.

ying, _young_.

your lane, _alone by yourself_.

ze, _ye_.

* * * * *

Transcriber's Notes

Page 90, line 14: added missing apostrophe (In simmer, 'mid the flowers?)

Page 93, line 34: added missing end quotation mark (And the cauld rain on your breist.")

Page 177, line 26: added missing open quotation mark ("O come to your bed, my dearie; ...)

Page 120, line 41: added missing open quotation mark ("But wha will bake my bridal bread, ...)

Page 160, line 40: added missing (or uninked) comma ("She is dead, sir, long agoe.")

Page 168, line 12: changed period to comma (Against the brave wedding of pretty Bessee.)

Page 191, final paragraph: added closing quotation mark ( ... to no other shrine than that of Venus.[A]")

Page 192, second paragraph: open quotation mark moved to start of paragraph ("_As I went to Walsingham_ is quoted in Nashe's _Have with you to Saffron-Walden_, ...)

Note that the corrections to punctuation on pages 191 and 192 are consistent with interpreting the three paragraphs as attributed to "CHAPPELL".

Page 224, line 206: added missing open quotation mark ("Upon thy wife and children,)

Page 227, line 145: deleted erroneous opening quotation mark (So they hae gane before the king,)

Page 278, line 178: added missing period ("To seal her tocher wi' thee.")

Page 316, line 128: changed "be" to "he" (For the young Lord Arundel he shall be.")

Page 332, line 110: changed "merehants" to "merchants" (Beare me a letter to the English merchants there,)

End of Project Gutenberg's English and Scottish Ballads, Volume IV, by Various