Part 2

_Fine flowers in the valley,_

Ye did na prove to me sae kind,"

_And the green leaves they grow rarely._

(_howket,_ digged. _clead_, clad.)

YOUNG HUNTING

"O Lady, rock never your young son,

One hour longer for me;

For I have a sweetheart in Garlicks Wells,

I love thrice better than thee.

"The very soles of my love's feet

Is whiter than thy face:"

"But, nevertheless, now, Young Hunting,

Ye'll stay with me a' night?"

She has birled in him, Young Hunting,

The good ale and the beer;

Till he was as love-drunken

As any wild-wood steer.

She has birled in him, Young Hunting,

The good ale and the wine:

Till he was as love-drunken

As any wild-wood swine.

Up she has ta'en him, Young Hunting,

And she has had him to her bed.

*****

And she has minded her of a little penknife,

That hangs low down by her gare,

(_birled in_, poured out drink for. _gare_, skirt.)

And she has gi'en him, Young Hunting,

A deep wound and a sair.

Out and spake the bonny bird

That flew abune her head;

"Lady! keep weel your green clothing

Frae that good lords blood."--

"O better I'll keep my green clothing

Frae that good lord's blood,

Nor thou can keep thy flattering tongue,

That flatters in thy head."

"Light down, light down, my bonny bird,

Light down upon my hand;

*****

"O siller, O siller shall be thy hire,

An' goud shall be thy fee,

An' every month into the year

Thy cage shall changed be."

"I winna light down, I shanna light down,

I winna light on thy hand;

Full soon, soon wad ye do to me

As ye done to Young Hunting."

She has booted and spurred him, Young Hunting,

As he been ga'en to ride,

A hunting-horn about his neck

An' the sharp sword by his side.

And she has had him to yon water,

For a' man calls it Clyde.

*****

The deepest pot intill it all

She has putten Young Hunting in;

A green turf upon his breast,

To hold that good lord down.

It fell once upon a day

The king was going to ride,

And he sent for him, Young Hunting,

To ride on his right side.

She has turned her right and round about,

She swear now by the corn,

"I saw na thy son, Young Hunting,

Since yesterday at morn."

She has turned her right and round about,

She swear now by the moon,

"I saw na thy son, Young Hunting,

Since yesterday at noon.

"It fears me sair in Clydes water,

That he is drown'd therein."--

O they hae sent for the kings duckers

To duck for Young Hunting.

They ducked in at the [tae] water-bank,

They ducked out at the other;

(_pot_, hole.)

"We'll duck nae mair for Young Hunting

Although he were our brother."

Out and spake the bonny bird

That flew abune their heads.

*****

"O he's na drowned in Clyde's water,

'He is slain and put therein;

The lady that lives in yon castle

Slew him and put him in.

"Leave off your ducking on the day,

And duck upon the night;

Wherever that sackless knight lies slain,

The candles will shine bright."--

They left off their ducking on the day,

And duck'd upon the night;

And where that sackless knight lay slain,

The candles shone full bright.

The deepest pot intill it a',

They got Young Hunting in;

A green turf upon his breast,

To hold that gude lord down.

O they ha sent off men to the wood

To hew down both thorn and fern,

That they might get a great bonfire

To burn that lady in.

(_sackless_, guiltless.)

The Twa Corbies

"Put na the wite on me," she said,

"It was [my] may Catherine:"

When they had taen her, may Catherine,

In the bonfire set her in.

It wadna take upon her cheeks,

Nor take upon her chin;

Nor yet upon her yellow hair,

To heal the deadly sin.

Out they ta en her, may Catherine,

And they put that lady in;

O it took upon her cheek, her cheek,

An it took upon her chin;

An it took upon her fair body--

She burn'd like [holly-green].

THE TWA CORBIES

|As I was walking all alane,

I heard twa corbies making a mane;

The tane unto the t'other say,

"Where sall we gang and dine to-day?"--

(_wite_, blame,)

"In behint yon auld fail dyke,

I wot there lies a new-slain knight;

And naebody kens that he lies there,

But his hawk, his hound, and lady fair.

"His hound is to the hunting gane,

His hawk, to fetch the wild-fowl hame,

His lady's ta'en another mate,

So we may mak our dinner sweet.

"Ye'll sit on his white hals-bane,

And I'll pick out his bonny blue een:

Wi' ae lock o' his gowden hair,

We'll theek our nest when it grows bare.

"Mony a one for him makes mane,

But nane sail ken where he is gane:

O'er his white banes, when they are bare,

The wind sail blaw for evermair."--

THE DOWIE DENS O' YARROW

|Late at e'en, drinking the wine,

Or early in the morning,

They set a combat them between,

To fight it in the dawning.

(_fail dyke_, wall of sods. _hals-bane_, neck-bone. _theek_, thatch.)

"O stay at hame, my noble lord,

O stay at hame, my marrow!

My cruel brother will you betray

On the dowie houms of Yarrow.

"O fare ye weel, my lady gay!

O fare ye weel, my Sarah!

For I maun gae, though I ne'er return

Frae the dowie banks o' Yarrow."

She kiss'd his cheek, she kaim'd his hair,

As she had done before, O;

She belted on his noble brand,

And he's away to Yarrow.

O he's gane up yon high, high hill,

I wot he gaed wi' sorrow,

An' in a den spied nine arm'd men,

I' the dowie houms of Yarrow.

(_marrow_, mate. _houms_, marshes. _dowie_, gloomy.)

"O are ye come to drink the wine,

As ye hae doon before, oh?

Or are ye come to wield the brand,

On the bonny banks of Yarrow?"--

"I am no come to drink the wine,

As I hae doon before, oh,

But I am come to wield the brand,

On the dowie houms of Yarrow."

Four he hurt, and five he slew,

On the dowie houms of Yarrow,

Till that stubborn knight came him behind,

And ran his body thorough.

"Gae hame, gae hame, good-brother John,

And tell your sister Sarah,

To come and lift her noble lord;

Who's sleepin sound on Yarrow."--

"Yestreen I dream'd a dolefu' dream;

I kenn'd there wad be sorrow!

I dream'd I pu'd the heather green,

On the dowie banks o' Yarrow."

She gaed up yon high, high hill--

I wot she gaed wi' sorrow--

An' in a den spied nine dead men,

On the dowie houms of Yarrow.

She kissed his cheek, she kaim'd his hair,

As oft she did before, O;

She drank the red blood frae him ran,

On the dowie houms of Yarrow.

"O haud your tongue, my daughter dear!

For what needs a ' this sorrow;

I'll wed ye on a better lord,

Than him you lost on Yarrow."--

"O haud your tongue, my father dear!

And dinna grieve your Sarah;

A better lord was never born

Than him I lost on Yarrow.

"Take hame your ousen, take hame your kye,

For they hae bred our sorrow;

I wish that they had a' gane mad

When they came first to Yarrow."

GRÆME AND BEWICK

|Gude Lord Græme is to Carlisle gane,

Sir Robert Bewick there met he,

And arm in arm to the wine they did go,

And they drank till they were baith merry.

Gude Lord Græme has ta en up the cup,

"Sir Robert Bewick, and heres to thee!

And here's to our twa sons at hame!

For they like us best in our ain country."--

"O were your son a lad like mine,

And learn'd some books that he could read,

They might hae been twa brethren bold,

And they might hae bragged the Border side.

(_bragged_, defied.)

"But your son's a lad, and he is but bad,

And billy to my son he canna be;"

*****

"[I] sent him to the schools, and he wadna learn;

[I] bought him books, and he wadna read;

But my blessing shall he never earn,

Till I see how his arm can defend his head."--

Gude Lord Græme has a reckoning call'd,

A reckoning then called he;

And he paid a crown, and it went roun',

It was all for the gude wine and free.

And he has to the stable gane,

Where there stood thirty steeds and three;

He's ta'en his ain horse amang them a',

And hame he rade sae manfully.

"Welcome, my auld father!" said Christie Graeme,

"But where sae lang frae hame were ye?"--

"It's I hae been at Carlisle town,

And a baffled man by thee I be.

"I hae been at Carlisle town,

Where Sir Robert Bewick he met me;

He says yere a lad, and ye are but bad,

And billy to his son ye canna be.

"I sent ye to the schools, and ye wadna learn;

I bought ye books, and ye wadna read;

Therefore my blessing ye shall never earn,

Till I see with Bewick thou save my head."

"Now, God forbid, my auld father,

That ever sic a thing should be!

Billy Bewick was my master, and I was his scholar,

And aye sae weel as he learned me."

"O hold thy tongue, thou limmer loon,

And of thy talking let me be!

If thou does na end me this quarrel soon,

There is my glove, I'll fight wi' thee."

Then Christie Græme he stooped low

Unto the ground, you shall understand;--

"O father, put on your glove again,

The wind has blown it from your hand?"

What's that thou says, thou limmer loon?

How dares thou stand to speak to me?

If thou do not end this quarrel soon,

There's my right hand thou shalt fight with me."--

Then Christie Graeme's to his chamber gane,

To consider weel what then should be;

Whether he should fight with his auld father,

Or with his billy Bewick, he.

(_limmer_, rascal.)

Græme and Bewick ss' 47

"If I should kill my billy dear,

God's blessing I shall never win;

But if I strike at my auld father,

I think 'twould be a mortal sin.

"But if I kill my billy dear,

It is God's will, so let it be;

But I make a vow, ere I gang frae hame,

That I shall be the next man's die."--

Then he's put on's back a gude auld jack,

And on his head a cap of steel,

And sword and buckler by his side;

O gin he did not become them weel!

We'll leave off talking of Christie Græme,

And talk of him again belive;

And we will talk of bonny Bewick,

Where he was teaching his scholars five.

When he had taught them well to fence,

And handle swords without any doubt,

He took his sword under his arm,

And he walk'd his father's close about.

He look'd atween him and the sun,

And a' to see what there might be,

Till he spied a man in armour bright,

Was riding that way most hastily.

(_jacky_ coat of mail. _belive,_ soon.)

"O wha is yon, that came this way,

Sae hastily that hither came?

I think it be my brother dear,

I think it be young Christie Græme.

"Yere welcome here, my billy dear,

And thrice ye're welcome unto me! "--

"But I'm wae to say, I've seen the day,

When I am come to fight wi' thee.

"My fathers gane to Carlisle town,

Wi' your father Bewick there met he:

He says I'm a lad, and I am but bad,

And a baffled man I trow I be.

"He sent me to schools, and I wadna learn;

He gae me books, and I wadna read;

Sae my father's blessing I'll never earn,

Till he see how my arm can guard my head."

"O God forbid, my billy dear,

That ever such a thing should be!

We'll take three men on either side,

And see if we can our fathers agree."

"O hold thy tongue, now, billy Bewick,

And of thy talking let me be!

But if thou'rt a man, as I'm sure thou art,

Come o'er the dyke, and fight wi' me."

"But I hae nae harness, billy, on my back,

As weel I see there is on thine."--

"But as little harness as is on thy back,

As little, billy, shall be on mine."--

Then he's thrown off his coat o' mail,

His cap of steel away flung he;

He stuck his spear into the ground,

And he tied his horse unto a tree.

Then Bewick has thrown off his cloak,

And's psalter-book frae's hand flung he;

He laid his hand upon the dyke,

And ower he lap most manfully.

O they hae fought for twa lang hours;

When twa lang hours were come and gane,

The sweat drapp'd fast frae off them baith,

But a drap of blude could not be seen.

Till Græme gae Bewick an awkward stroke,

Ane awkward stroke strucken sickerly;

He has hit him under the left breast,

And dead-wounded to the ground fell he.

"Rise up, rise up, now, billy dear,

Arise and speak three words to me!

Whether thou's gotten thy deadly wound,

Or if God and good leeching may succour thee?"

(_sickerly_, surely.)

"O horse, O horse, now, billy Græme,

And get thee far from hence with speed;

And get thee out of this country,

That none may know who has done the deed."--

"O I have slain thee, billy Bewick,

If this be true thou tellest to me;

But I made a vow, ere I came frae hame,

That aye the next man I wad be."

He has pitch'd his sword in a moodie-hill,

And he has leap'd twenty lang feet and three,

And on his ain sword's point he lap,

And dead upon the ground fell he.

'Twas then came up Sir Robert Bewick,

And his brave son alive saw he;

"Rise up, rise up, my son," he said,

"For I think ye hae gotten the victorie."

"O hold your tongue, my father dear,

Of your prideful talking let me be!

Ye might hae drunken your wine in peace,

And let me and my billy be.

"Gae dig a grave, baith wide and deep,

And a grave to hold baith him and me;

But lay Christie Græme on the sunny side,

For I'm sure he won the victorie."

(_moodie-hill_, mole-hill.)

"Alack! a wae!" auld Bewick cried,

"Alack! was I not much to blame?

I'm sure I've lost the liveliest lad

That e'er was born unto my name."

"Alack! a wae!" quo' gude Lord Græme,

"Im sure I hae lost the deeper lack!

I durst hae ridden the Border through,

Had Christie Græme been at my back.

"Had I been led through Liddesdale,

And thirty horsemen guarding me,

And Christie Græme been at my back,

Sae soon as he had set me free!

"I've lost my hopes, I've lost my joy,

I've lost the key but and the lock;

I durst hae ridden the world round,

Had Christie Græme been at my back."

$$THE LAMENT OF THE BORDER WIDOW

|My love he built me a bonny bower,

And clad it a wi' lily flower,

A brawer bower ye ne er did see

Than my true love he built for me.

(_lack,_ loss.)

There came a man, by middle day,

He spied his sport, and went away;

And brought the King that very night,

Who brake my bower, and slew my knight.

He slew my knight, to me sae dear;

He slew my knight, and poin'd his gear;

My servants all for life did flee,

And left me in extremity.

I sew'd his sheet, making my mane;

I watch'd the corpse, myself alane;

I watch'd his body, night and day;

No living creature came that way.

I took his body on my back,

And whiles I gaed, and whiles I sat;

I digg'd a grave, and laid him in,

And happ'd him with the sod sae green.

But think na ye my heart was sair,

When I laid the mould on his yellow hair;

O think na ye my heart was wae,

When I turn'd about, away to gae?

Nae living man I'll love again,

Since that my lovely knight is slain;

Wi' ae lock of his yellow hair

I'll chain my heart for ever mair.

(_poind,_ seized. _happed,_ covered.)

FAIR ANNIE

|It's narrow, narrow, make your bed,

And learn to lie your lane;

For I'm gaun o'er the sea, Fair Annie,

A braw bride to bring hame.

Wi' her I will get gowd and gear;

Wi' you I ne er got nane.

"But wha will bake my bridal bread,

Or brew my bridal ale?

And wha will welcome my brisk bride,

That I bring o er the dale?"--

"It's I will bake your bridal bread,

And brew your bridal ale;

And I will welcome your brisk bride,

That you bring oer the dale."--

"But she that welcomes my brisk bride

Maun gang like maiden fair;

She maun lace on her robe sae jimp,

And braid her yellow hair."--

"But how can I gang maiden-like,

When maiden I am nane?

Have I not born seven sons to thee,

And am with child again?"--

She's ta'en her young son in her arms,

Another in her hand;

And she's up to the highest tower,

To see him come to land.

"Come up, come up, my eldest son,

And look o'er yon sea-strand,

And see your father's new-come bride,

Before she come to land."--

"Come down, come down, my mother dear,

Come frae the castle wa'!

I fear, if langer ye stand there,

Ye'll let yoursel' down fa."--

(_jimp_, slim.)

And she gaed down, and farther down,

Her love's ship for to see;

And the topmast and the mainmast

Shone like the silver free.

And she's gane down, and farther down,

The bride's ship to behold;

And the topmast and the mainmast

They shone just like the gold.

She's ta'en her seven sons in her hand;

I wot she didna fail!

She met Lord Thomas and his bride,

As they came o'er the dale.

"You re welcome to your house, Lord Thomas,

You're welcome to your land;

You're welcome with your fair lady,

That you lead by the hand.

"You're welcome to your ha's, lady,

You're welcome to your bowers;

You're welcome to your hame, lady,

For a' that's here is yours."--

"I thank thee, Annie; I thank thee, Annie;

Sae dearly as I thank thee;

You're the likest to my sister Annie,

That ever I did see.

(_free,_ precious.)

"There came a knight out o er the sea,

And steal'd my sister away;

The shame scoup in his company,

And land where er he gae!"--

She hang ae napkin at the door,

Another in the ha';

And a' to wipe the trickling tears,

Sae fast as they did fa'.

And aye she served the lang tables

With white bread and with wine;

And aye she drank the wan water,

To had her colour fine.

And aye she served the lang tables,

With white bread and with brown;

And ay she turned her round about,

Sae fast the tears fell down.

And hes ta en down the silk napkin,

Hung on a silver pin;

And aye he wipes the tear trickling

Adown her cheek and chin.

And aye he turn'd him round about,

And smiled amang his men,

Says--"Like ye best the old lady,

Or her that's new come hame?"--

(_scaup_, go. _had_, hold, keep.)

When bells were rung, and mass was sung,

And a' men bound to bed,

Lord Thomas and his new-come bride,

To their chamber they were gaed.

Annie made her bed a little for bye,

To hear what they might say;

"And ever alas!" fair Annie cried,

"That I should see this day!

"Gin my seven sons were seven young rats,

Running on the castle wa',

And I were a grey cat mysel',

I soon would worry them a'.

"Gin my seven sons were seven young hares,

Running o er yon lily lea,

And I were a greyhound mysel',

Soon worried they a' should be."--

And wae and sad fair Annie sat,

And dreary was her sang;

And ever, as she sobb'd and grat,

"Wae to the man that did the wrang!"--

"My gown is on," said the new-come bride,

"My shoes are on my feet,

And I will to fair Annies chamber,

And see what gars her greet.----

(_forbye_, on one side. _grat_, wept. _gars_, makes.)

"What ails ye, what ails ye, Fair Annie,

That ye make sic a moan?

Has your wine barrels cast the girds,

Or is your white bread gone?

"O wha was't was your father, Annie,

Or wha was't was your mother?

And had you ony sister, Annie,

Or had you ony brother?"--

"The Earl of Wemyss was my father,

The Countess of Wemyss my mother;

And a ' the folk about the house,

To me were sister and brother."--

"If the Earl of Wemyss was your father,

I wot sae was he mine;

And it shall not be for lack o' gowd,

That ye your love sall tyne.

"For I have seven ships o' mine ain,

A' loaded to the brim;

And I will gie them a' to thee,

Wi' four to thine eldest son.

But thanks to a the powers in heaven

That I gae maiden hame!"

(_tyne_, lose.)

THE GAY GOSS-HAWK

|O weel's me, my gay goss-hawk,

That he can speak and flee;

Hell carry a letter to my love,

Bring back another to me."

"O how can I your true love ken,

Or how can I her know?

When frae her mouth I ne er heard couth,

Nor wi' my eyes her saw."

"O weel sail ye my true love ken,

As soon as ye her see;

For, of a the flowers of fair England,

The fairest flower is she.

(_heard, couth_, could hear.)

"And even at my love's bower-door

There grows a bowing birk;

And sit ye doun and sing thereon

As she gangs to the kirk.

"And four-and-twenty ladies fair

Will wash and to the kirk,

But well shall ye my true-love ken,

For she wears goud on her skirt.

"And four-and-twenty gay ladies

Will to the mass repair;

But weel shall ye my true love ken,

For she wears goud on her hair."

And even at the lady's bower-door

There grows a bowing birk;

And [he] sat down and sang thereon

As she gaed to the kirk.

"O eat and drink, my Maries a',

The wine flows you among,

Till I gang to my shot-window,

And hear yon bonny bird's song.

"Sing on, sing on, my bonny bird,

The song ye sang [yestreen];

For I ken, by your sweet singing,

Ye're frae my true love sen."

(_birk,_ birch. _shot-windoiv_, projecting window. _sen,_ sent.)

O first he sang a merry song,

And then he sang a grave;

And then he pick'd his feathers gray,

To her the letter gave.

"Ha, there's a letter frae your love,

He says he sent you three;

He canna wait your love langer,

But for your sake he'll die.

"He bids you write a letter to him;

He says he's sent ye five;

He canna wait your love langer,

Tho' you're the fairest woman alive."

"Ye bid him bake his bridal bread,

And brew his bridal ale;

And I'll meet him in fair Scotland,

Lang, lang ere it be stale."

She's doen to her father dear,

Fa'en low down on her knee:

"A boon, a boon, my father dear,

I pray you, grant it me."

"Ask on, ask on, my daughter,

An granted it shall be;

Except ae squire in fair Scotland,

An him you shall never see."

"The only boon, my father dear,

That I do crave of thee,--

Is, gin I die in Southern lands,

In Scotland to bury me.

"And the first in kirk that ye come till,

Ye gar the bells be rung;

And the nextin kirk that ye come to,

Ye gar the mass be sung.

"And the thirdin kirk that ye come till,

You deal gold for my sake.

And the fourthin kirk that ye come till,

You tarry there till night."

She has doen her to her bigly bower

As fast as she could fare;

And she has ta'en a sleepy draught,

That she had mix'd wi' care.

(_gar,_ make. _bigly,_ big.)

The Gay Goss-Hawk ss' 63

She's laid her down upon her bed,

An soon she fa en asleep,

And soon o'er every tender limb

Cold death began to creep.

When night was flown, and day was come,

Nae ane that did her see

But thought she was a surely dead,

As ony lady could be.

Her father and her brothers dear

Gar'd make to her a bier;

The tae half was o' gude red gold,

The tither o' silver clear.

Her mither and her sisters fair

Gar'd work for her a sark;

The tae half was o' cambric fine

The tither o' needle wark.

An the first in kirk that they came till,

They gar'd the bells be rung;

The nextin kirk that they came till,

They gar'd the mass be sung.

The thirdin kirk that they came till,

They dealt gold for her sake,

An' the fourthin kirk that they came till,

Lo, there they met her make.

(_make_, mate.)

"Lay down, lay down the bigly bier,"

"Let me the dead look on:"

Wi' cherry cheeks and ruby lips

She lay and smiled on him.

"O ae shave of your bread, true love,

An' ae glass of your wine;

For I hae fasted for your sake

These fully days is nine.

"Gang hame, gang hame, my seven bold

brithers,

Gang hame and sound your horn!

And ye may boast in southern lands

Your sister's played you scorn."

BROWN ADAM

|O wha wad wish the wind to blaw,

Or the green leaves fa' therewith?

Or wha wad wish a lealer love

Than Brown Adam the Smith?

His hammer's o' the beaten gold,

His study's o' the steel,

(_study_, that which stands, i.e. the anvil (?))

His fingers white, are my delight,

He blows his bellows weel.

But they hae banish'd him, Brown Adam,

Frae father and frae mother;

And they hae banish'd him, Brown Adam,

Frae sister and frae brother.

And they hae banish'd Brown Adam,

Frae the flower o' a' his kin;

And he's bigged a bower i' the gude greenwood

Between his lady and him.

O it fell once upon a day,

Brown Adam he thought lang;

An' he would to the green-wood gang,

To hunt some venison.

He has ta'en his bow his arm o'er,

His bran' intill his han',

And he is to the gude green-wood

As fast as he could gang.

O he's shot up, and he's shot down,

The bird upon the briar;

And he sent it hame to his lady,

Bade her be of gude cheer.

O he's shot up, and he's shot down,

The bird upon the thorn;