The English and Scottish popular ballads, volume 2 (of 5)
Scene 8, Dyce, II, 170:
When it was grown to dark midnight, And all were fast asleep, In came Margaret's grimly ghost, And stood at William's feet.
The first half of stanza 2 is given, in Act 3, Scene 5, Dyce, p. 196, with more propriety than in the broadsides, thus:
You are no love for me, Margaret, I am no love for you.
The fifth stanza of the ballad, as cited in 'The Knight of the Burning Pestle,' says the editor of the Reliques, has "acquired an importance by giving birth to one of the most beautiful ballads in our own or any language" [that is, 'Margaret's Ghost'], "the elegant production of David Mallet, Esq., who, in the last edition of his poems, 3 vols, 1759, informs us that the plan was suggested by the four verses quoted above, which he supposed to be the beginning of some ballad now lost."[119] The ballad supposed to be lost has been lately recovered, in a copy of the date 1711, with the title 'William and Margaret, an Old Ballad,' and turns out to be substantially the piece which Mallet published as his own in 1724, Mallet's changes being comparatively slight. 'William and Margaret' is simply 'Fair Margaret and Sweet William' rewritten in what used to be called an elegant style. Nine of the seventeen stanzas are taken up with a rhetorical address of Margaret to false William, who then leaves his bed, raving, stretches himself on Margaret's grave, thrice calls her name, thrice weeps full sore, and dies. See The Roxburghe Ballads, in the Ballad Society's reprint, III, 671, with Mr Chappell's remarks there, and in the Antiquary, January, 1880. The ballad of 1711 seems to have been founded upon some copy of the popular form earlier than any we now possess, or than any known to me, for the last half of stanza 5 runs nearly as it occurs in Beaumont and Fletcher (see also #B# 7), thus:
In glided Margaret's grimly ghost, And stood at William's feet.
'Fair Margaret and Sweet William' begins like 'Lord Thomas and Fair Annet,' and from the fifth stanza on is blended with a form of that ballad represented by versions #E-H#. The _brown_ girl, characteristic of 'Lord Thomas and Fair Annet,' has slipped into #A# 14, 15, #B# 8, of 'Fair Margaret and Sweet William.' The catastrophe of 'Fair Margaret and Sweet William' is repeated in 'Lord Lovel,' and it will be convenient to notice under the head of the latter, which immediately follows, some ballads out of English which resemble both, especially in the conclusion.
* * * * *
#A c# is translated by Bodmer, II, 31, Döring, p. 199; #A d# by Herder, 1778, I, 124, von Marées, p. 40, Knortz, Lieder u. Romanzen Alt-Englands, No 61.
A
#a.# Douce Ballads, I, fol. 72. #b.# Ritson, A Select Collection of English Songs, 1783, II, 190. #c.# Percy's Reliques, 1765, III, 121. #d.# Percy's Reliques, 1767, III, 119.
1 As it fell out on a long summer's day, Two lovers they sat on a hill; They sat together that long summer's day, And could not talk their fill.
2 'I see no harm by you, Margaret, Nor you see none by me; Before tomorrow eight a clock A rich wedding shall you see.'
3 Fair Margaret sat in her bower-window, A combing of her hair, And there she spy'd Sweet William and his bride, As they were riding near.
4 Down she layd her ivory comb, And up she bound her hair; She went her way forth of her bower, But never more did come there.
5 When day was gone, and night was come, And all men fast asleep, Then came the spirit of Fair Margaret, And stood at William's feet.
6 'God give you joy, you two true lovers, In bride-bed fast asleep; Loe I am going to my green grass grave, And am in my winding-sheet.'
7 When day was come, and night was gone, And all men wak'd from sleep, Sweet William to his lady said, My dear, I have cause to weep.
8 'I dreamd a dream, my dear lady; Such dreams are never good; I dreamd my bower was full of red swine, And my bride-bed full of blood.'
9 'Such dreams, such dreams, my honoured lord, They never do prove good, To dream thy bower was full of swine, And [thy] bride-bed full of blood.'
10 He called up his merry men all, By one, by two, and by three, Saying, I'll away to Fair Margaret's bower, By the leave of my lady.
11 And when he came to Fair Margaret's bower, He knocked at the ring; So ready was her seven brethren To let Sweet William in.
12 He turned up the covering-sheet: 'Pray let me see the dead; Methinks she does look pale and wan, She has lost her cherry red.
13 'I'll do more for thee, Margaret, Than any of thy kin; For I will kiss thy pale wan lips, Tho a smile I cannot win.'
14 With that bespeak her seven brethren, Making most pitious moan: 'You may go kiss your jolly brown bride, And let our sister alone.'
15 'If I do kiss my jolly brown bride, I do but what is right; For I made no vow to your sister dear, By day or yet by night.
16 'Pray tell me then how much you'll deal Of your white bread and your wine; So much as is dealt at her funeral today Tomorrow shall be dealt at mine.'
17 Fair Margaret dy'd today, today, Sweet William he dy'd the morrow; Fair Margaret dy'd for pure true love, Sweet William he dy'd for sorrow.
18 Margaret was buried in the lower chancel, Sweet William in the higher; Out of her breast there sprung a rose, And out of his a brier.
19 They grew as high as the church-top, Till they could grow no higher, And then they grew in a true lover's knot, Which made all people admire.
20 There came the clerk of the parish, As you this truth shall hear, And by misfortune cut them down, Or they had now been there.
B
Communicated to Percy by the Dean of Derry, as written down from memory by his mother, Mrs Bernard; February, 1776.
1 Sweet William would a wooing ride, His steed was lovely brown; A fairer creature than Lady Margaret Sweet William could find none.
2 Sweet William came to Lady Margaret's bower, And knocked at the ring, And who so ready as Lady Margaret To rise and to let him in.
3 Down then came her father dear, Clothed all in blue: 'I pray, Sweet William, tell to me What love's between my daughter and you?'
4 'I know none by her,' he said, 'And she knows none by me; Before tomorrow at this time Another bride you shall see.'
5 Lady Margaret at her bower-window, Combing of her hair, She saw Sweet William and his brown bride Unto the church repair.
6 Down she cast her iv'ry comb, And up she tossd her hair, She went out from her bowr alive, But never so more came there.
7 When day was gone, and night was come, All people were asleep, In glided Margaret's grimly ghost, And stood at William's feet.
8 'How d'ye like your bed, Sweet William? How d'ye like your sheet? And how d'ye like that brown lady, That lies in your arms asleep?'
9 'Well I like my bed, Lady Margaret, And well I like my sheet; But better I like that fair lady That stands at my bed's feet.'
10 When night was gone, and day was come, All people were awake, The lady waket out of her sleep, And thus to her lord she spake.
11 'I dreamd a dream, my wedded lord, That seldom comes to good; I dreamd that our bowr was lin'd with white swine, And our brid-chamber full of blood.'
12 He called up his merry men all, By one, by two, by three, 'We will go to Lady Margaret's bower, With the leave of my wedded lady.'
13 When he came to Lady Margaret's bower, He knocked at the ring, And who were so ready as her brethren To rise and let him in.
14 'Oh is she in the parlor,' he said, 'Or is she in the hall? Or is she in the long chamber, Amongst her merry maids all?'
15 'She's not in the parlor,' they said, 'Nor is she in the hall; But she is in the long chamber, Laid out against the wall.'
16 'Open the winding sheet,' he cry'd, 'That I may kiss the dead; That I may kiss her pale and wan Whose lips used to look so red.'
17 Lady Margaret [died] on the over night, Sweet William died on the morrow; Lady Margaret died for pure, pure love, Sweet William died for sorrow.
18 On Margaret's grave there grew a rose, On Sweet William's grew a briar; They grew till they joind in a true lover's knot, And then they died both together.
C
Communicated to Percy by Rev. P. Parsons, of Wye, April 7, 1770.
1 As Margaret stood at her window so clear, A combing back her hair, She saw Sweet William and his gay bride Unto the church draw near.
2 Then down she threw her ivory comb, She turned back her hair; There was a fair maid at that window, She's gone, she'll come no more there.
3 In the night, in the middle of the night, When all men were asleep, There walkd a ghost, Fair Margaret's ghost, And stood at his bed's feet.
4 Sweet William he dremed a dream, and he said, 'I wish it prove for good; My chamber was full of wild men's wine, And my bride-bed stood in blood.'
5 Then he calld up his stable-groom, To saddle his nag with speed: 'This night will I ride to Fair Margaret's bowr, With the leave of my lady.
6 'Oh is Fair Margaret in the kitchen? Or is she in the hall? . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
7 'No, she is not in the kitchen,' they cryed, 'Nor is she in the hall; But she is in the long chamber, Laid up against the wall.'
8 Go with your right side to Newcastle, And come with your left side home, There you will see those two lovers Lie printed on one stone.
* * * * *
#A. a.#
Fair Margaret's Misfortune, or, Sweet William's Frightful Dreams on his Wedding Night. With the Sudden Death and Burial of those Noble Lovers.... Printed for S. Bates, at the Sun and Bible, in Gilt-Spur Street. _Sarah Bates published about 1685. Chappell._
3^1. set.
4^1. lay.
5^4. Which causd him for to weep: _caught probably from 7^4. See the quotation in Beaumont and Fletcher, and the other broadside copies._
13^2. my kin.
18^1. channel.
#b.# 1^1. out upon a day.
1^3. a long.
2^4. you shall.
3^4. a riding.
4^3. went away first from the.
4^4. more came.
5^4. And stood at William's bed-feet.
6^1. you true.
6^3. grass green.
6^4. I am.
9^4. thy bride-bed.
10^1. called his.
12^1. Then he.
12^3. she looks both.
14^1. the seven.
14^3, 15^1. brown dame.
16^2. Of white.
18^2. And William.
19^3. there they.
19^4. all the.
20^1. Then.
#c.# 2^3. at eight.
2^4. you shall.
3^3. She spyed.
3^4. a riding.
4^4. more came.
5^3. There came.
5^4. And stood at William's feet.
6^1. you lovers true.
6^4. I'm.
9^4. And they.
12^1. Then he.
14^1. the seven.
17. William dyed.
18^2. And William.
19^3. there they.
19^4. Made all the folke.
20^1. Then.
#d.#
_Variations not found in_ #c#: "Communicated by a lady of the first distinction, as she had heard this song repeated in her infancy."
3^2. Combing her yellow hair.
3^3. There she spyed.
4. Then down she layd her ivory combe, And braided her hair in twain; She went alive out of her bower, But neer came alive in't again.
6. 'Are you awake, Sweet William?' shee said, 'Or, Sweet William, are you asleep? God give you joy of your gay bride-bed, And me of my winding-sheet.'
11^3. And who so ready as her.
15^3. I neer made a vow to yonder poor corpse.
16. 'Deal on, deal on, my merry men all, Deal on your cake and your wine; For whatever is dealt at her funeral today Shall be dealt tomorrow at mine.'
19^1. They grew till they grew unto the.
19^2. And then they.
19^3. they tyed.
19^4. the people.
#C.#
"The ballad of Sweet William," _writes Parsons to Percy_, "was the same as yours in the stanzas I have omitted.... The person from whom I took the thirty-fifth line [_thirty-first, here_ 4^3] sang it thus:
My chamber was full of wild men's wine,
which is absolute nonsense, yet, if altered to 'wild men and swine,' is perfect sense."
[118] "The common title of this ballad, which is a favorite of the stalls, is 'Fair Margaret's Misfortunes:'" Motherwell, Minstrelsy, p. lxviii, note 18.
[119] Reliques, 1765, III, 121, 310.
75
LORD LOVEL
#A.# 'Lady Ouncebell,' communicated to Bishop Percy by the Rev. P. Parsons, of Wye, 1770 and 1775.
#B.# 'Lord Lavel,' Kinloch MSS, I, 45.
#C.# 'Lord Travell,' communicated by Mr Alexander Laing, of Newburgh-on-Tay.
#D.# 'Lord Lovel,' Kinloch MSS, VII, 83; Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 31.
#E.# Communicated by Mr J. F. Campbell, of Islay, as learned about 1850.
#F.# 'Lord Lovel,' communicated by Mr Robert White, of Newcastle-on-Tyne.
#G.# 'Lord Revel,' Harris MS., fol. 28b.
#H.# 'Lord Lovel.' #a.# Broadside in Dixon's Ancient Poems, Ballads and Songs of the Peasantry of England, p. 78, Percy Society, vol. XIX. #b.# Davidson's Universal Melodist, I, 148.
#I.# Percy Papers, communicated by Principal Robertson.
#I# is made up of portions of several ballads. The first stanza is derived from 'Sweet William's Ghost,' the second and third possibly from some form of 'Death and the Lady,' 4-11 from 'Lady Maisry.' The eighth stanza of #E# should, perhaps, be considered as taken from 'Lord Thomas and Fair Annet,' since in no other copy of 'Lord Lovel' and in none of 'Fair Margaret and Sweet William' does the hero die by his own hand.
In 'Fair Margaret and Sweet William,' as also in 'Lord Thomas and Fair Annet,' a lover sacrifices his inclination to make a marriage of interest. In 'Lord Lovel' the woman dies, not of affection betrayed, but of hope too long deferred, and her laggard but not unfaithful lover sinks under his remorse and grief. 'Lord Lovel' is peculiarly such a ballad as Orsino likes and praises: it is silly sooth, like the old age. Therefore a gross taste has taken pleasure in parodying it, and the same with 'Young Beichan.' But there are people in this world who are amused even with a burlesque of Othello.[120]
There are several sets of ballads, very common in Germany and in Scandinavia, which, whether they are or are not variations of the same original, at least have a great deal in common with 'Lord Lovel' and 'Fair Margaret and Sweet William.'
Of these, one which more closely resembles the English is 'Der Ritter und die Maid,' of German origin, but found also further north.[121]
A knight and maid have been together till morning. She weeps; he tells her that he will pay for her honor, will give her an underling and money. She will have none but him, and will go home to her mother. The mother, on seeing her, asks why her gown is long behind and short before, and offers her meat and drink. The daughter refuses them, goes to bed, and dies. So far there is no dallying with the innocence of love, as in the English ballad; the German knight is simply a brutal man of pleasure. But now the knight has a dream, as in 'Fair Margaret and Sweet William;' it is that his love has died. He bids his squire or groom to saddle, and rides to find out what has happened. On his way he hears an ominous bell; further on he sees a grave digging; then he meets men carrying a bier. Set down the bier, he cries, that I may see my love. He turns back the cloth and looks at the dead. She has suffered for him, he will suffer for her. He draws his sword and runs it through his heart. They are buried in one coffin, or in the same grave. In some of the ballads lilies rise from the grave; in a Swedish version ('Jungfruns död'), a linden, the leaves of which intermingle.
Next to this we may put a Norwegian and a Swedish ballad, which, having perhaps lost something at the beginning, cannot safely be classed: 'Maarstíg aa hass möy,' Bugge, p. 127, No 26, A, B; 'Herr Malmstens dröm,' Afzelius, III, 104, No 85. Maarstíg dreams that his love's gold ring has got upon another finger, that her gold belt is off her lithe waist, her cloak or her hair is cut to bits, her shoes are full of blood; Malmsten that his love's heart breaks. The pages are ordered to saddle, and Maarstíg, or Malmsten, rides to find what there is in the dream. Maarstíg encounters two maids, who are just from a wake. "Who is dead?" "Maalfrí, thy sweet love." He rides on, meets the bier, bids the bearers set it down, and looks at the dead. Let them dig the grave, he cries, wide and deep, it shall be his bride-house; let them dig the grave deep and long, that is where bride and bridegroom shall go. He sets his sword against a stone, and falls on it. With slight variations, the course of the story is the same for Malmsten. Another Swedish ballad, 'Den sörjande,' Djurklou, p. 106, No 7, lacks even so much introduction as the dream. The lover orders his horse, hears the funeral bell, sees the grave-digging, meets the bier, looks at his dead mistress, and kills himself. A fragment in Dybeck's Runa, 1845, p. 15, begins with the ride and stops short of the death.
These last ballads apparently give us the middle and end of a story which has also some sort of beginning in the following: Danish, 'Den elskedes Død,' Kristensen, II, 39, No 20, A-D, and in many unprinted copies from oral tradition, besides two from MSS of the sixteenth century, communicated to me by Grundtvig; Swedish, 'Hertig Nils,' Arwidsson, II, 21, No 72, 'Peder Palleson,' Arwidsson, No 71, II, 18, 437; Norwegian, 'Herr Stragi,' Landstad, p. 537, No 61.[122] A lover and his mistress have parted, have been long parted. She is sick, dying, or even dead. In the Danish manuscript copies we are distinctly told that she has grieved herself to death on his account. Word is sent him by carrier-pigeons, a bird, a page; or he is informed by a spae-wife (Landstad). He leaps over the table, spilling mead and wine (Kristensen), and rides faster than the doves fly. The rest of the tale is much as before, with those minor diversities that are to be expected. The lover commonly kills himself, but dies of heart-break in 'Peder Palleson' and one of the sixteenth century Danish copies. In the latter he hears the bells, says he shall never arrive alive, dies without the house and she within; in the former the maid dies in the upper room, the swain on the wild moor. In the Danish manuscript copies the man is laid south in the churchyard, the maid north [west, east], two roses spring from their breasts and span the church-roof, and there they shall stay till doom; in Kristensen it is two lilies, in Arwidsson a linden.
With these last may belong a German ballad of a young Markgraf, who marries a very young wife, goes for her mother upon the approach of a threatening childbirth, and, returning, has encounters similar to those in 'Der Ritter und die Maid.' In some instances it is a Reiter, or Jäger, "wohlgemuth," not married, or in secret relations with his love, who, coming to a wood or heath, hears a bell that alarms him; etc. In the end he generally kills himself, sometimes dies of a broken heart. Lilies in several cases rise from the young woman's grave, or their grave.[123]
A Romaic ballad has the characteristic features of the English, German, and Scandinavian stories, with a beginning of its own, as these also have: 'Ἡ Ευγενουλα,' 'Ὁ Χαρος και ἡ Κορη,' etc. (1) Zambelios, p. 715, 2==Passow, No 415; (2) Passow, No 418; (3) Fauriel, p. 112, No 6==Passow, No 417; (4) Marcellus, II, 72==Passow, No 414; (5) Chasiotis, p. 169, No 5; (6) Passow, No 416; (7) Aravandinos, p. 285, No 472; (8) Tommaseo, III, 307 f; (9) Jeannaraki, p. 239, No 301; and no doubt elsewhere, for the ballad is a favorite. A young girl, who has nine brothers and is betrothed (or perhaps newly married) to a rich pallikar, professes not to fear Death. Death immediately shows his power over her. Her lover, coming with a splendid train to celebrate his nuptials, sees a cross on her mother's gate, a sign that some one has died. In (2) he lifts a gold handkerchief from the face of the dead, and sees that it is his beloved. Or he finds a man digging a grave, and asks for whom the grave is, and is told. "Make the grave deep and broad," he cries; "make it for two," and stabs himself with his dagger. A clump of reeds springs from one of the lovers, a cypress [lemon-tree] from the other, which bend one towards the other and kiss whenever a strong breeze blows.[124]
In a Catalan ballad, a young man hears funeral bells, asks for whom they ring, is told that it is for his love, rides to her house, finds the balcony hung with black, kneels at the feet of the dead, and uncovers her face. She speaks and tells him where his gifts to her may be found, then bids him order the carpenter to make a coffin large enough for two. He draws his dagger and stabs himself; there are two dead in one house! 'La mort de la Nuvia,' Briz y Candi, I, 135, Milá, Romancerillo, p. 321 f, No 337 #A#_{ll}, #B#_{ll}; found also in Majorca.
As will readily be supposed, some of the incidents of this series of ballads are found in traditional song in various connections.
* * * * *
#D# is translated by Grundtvig, Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, p. 194, No 29; by Rose Warrens, Schottische Volkslieder der Vorzeit, p. 115, No 25.
A
Percy Papers, communicated by the Rev. P. Parsons, of Wye, from singing; May 22, 1770, and April 19, 1775.
1 'And I fare you well, Lady Ouncebell, For I must needs be gone, And this time two year I'll meet you again, To finish the loves we begun.'
2 'That is a long time, Lord Lovill,' said she, 'To live in fair Scotland;' 'And so it is, Lady Ouncebell, To leave a fair lady alone.'
3 He had not been in fair Scotland Not half above half a year, But a longin mind came into his head, Lady Ouncebell he woud go see her.
4 He called up his stable-groom, To sadle his milk-white stead; Dey down, dey down, dey down dery down, I wish Lord Lovill good speed.
5 He had not been in fair London Not half above half a day, But he heard the bells of the high chapel ring, They rang with a ceserera.
6 He asked of a gentleman, That set there all alone, What made the bells of the high chapel ring, The ladys make all their moan.
7 'One of the king's daughters are dead,' said he, 'Lady Ouncebell was her name; She died for love of a courtous young night, Lord Lovill he was the same.'
8 He caused her corps to be set down, And her winding sheet undone, And he made a vow before them all He'd never kiss wowman again.
9 Lady Ouncebell died on the yesterday, Lord Lovill on the morrow; Lady Ouncebell died for pure true love, Lord Lovill died for sorrow.
10 Lady Ouncebell was buried in the high chancel, Lord Lovill in the choir; Lady Ouncebell's breast sprung out a sweet rose, Lord Lovill's a bunch of sweet brier.
11 They grew till they grew to the top of the church, And then they could grow no higher; They grew till they grew to a true-lover's not, And then they tyed both together.
12 An old wowman coming by that way, And a blessing she did crave, To cut off a bunch of that true-lover's not, And buried them both in one grave.
B
Kinloch MSS, I, 45, from the recitation of Mary Barr, of Lesmahago, "aged upwards of 70," May, 1827.
1 Lord Lavel he stands at his stable-door, Kaiming his milk-white steed; And by and cam Fair Nancybelle, And wished Lord Lavel good speed.
2 'O whare are ye going, Lord Lavel?' she said, 'I pray ye tell to me:' 'O I am going to merry England, To win your love aff me.'
3 'And when will ye return again?' she said, 'Lord Lavel, pray tell to me:' 'Whan seven lang years are past and gane, Fair Nancybelle, I'll return to thee.'
4 ''T is too lang, Lord Lavel,' she said, ''T is too lang for me; 'T is too long, Lord Lavel,' she said, 'A true lover for to see.'
* * * * * * *
5 He had na been in merry England A month but barely three, Till languishing thoughts cam into his mind, And Nancybelle fain wad he see.
6 He rade, and he rade, alang the hieway, Till he cam to yonder toun; He heard the sound o a fine chapel-bell, And the ladies were mourning roun.
7 He rade, and he rade, alang the hieway, Till he cam to yonder hall; He heard the sound o a fine chapel-bell, And the ladies were mourning all.
8 He asked wha it was that was dead, The ladies did him tell: They said, It is the king's daughter, Her name is Fair Nancybelle; She died for the love of a courteous young knicht, His name is Lord Lavel.
9 'O hast thou died, Fair Nancybelle, O hast thou died for me! O hast thou died, Fair Nancybelle! Then I will die for thee.'
10 Fair Nancybelle died, as it might be, this day, Lord Lavel he died tomorrow; Fair Nancybelle died with pure, pure love, Lord Lavel he died with sorrow.
11 Lord Lavel was buried in Mary's kirk, Nancybelle in Mary's quire; And out o the ane there grew a birk, Out the other a bonny brier.
12 And ae they grew, and ae they threw, Until they twa did meet, That ilka ane might plainly see They war twa lovers sweet.
C
Communicated by Mr Alexander Laing, 1873, as taken down from the recitation of Miss Fanny Walker, of Mount Pleasant, near Newburgh-on-Tay.
1 Lord Travell stands in his stable-door, Dressing his milk-white steed, An bye comes Lady Ounceville: 'I wish you muckle speed.
2 'Oh whar are ye gaun, Lord Travell?' she says, 'Whar are gaun frae me?' 'I am gaun to London town, Some strange things for to see.'
3 'Whan will ye be back, Lord Travell?' she says, 'Whan will ye be back to me?' 'I will be back in seven lang years, To wed my gay ladie.'
4 'Oh that is too lang for me,' she says, 'Oh that is too lang for me; Oh that is too lang for me,' she says, 'To wed thy gay ladie.'
5 He hadna been in London town A week but only three, Whan a boding voice thirld in his ear, That Scotland he maun see.
6 He rade an he rode alang the highway, Till he cam to yon little town: 'Oh is there ony body dead? The bells they mak sic a sound.'
7 He rade an he rode alang the highway, Till he cam to yon little town: 'Oh is there ony body dead? The folk gae mournin round.'
8 'Oh yes indeed, there is ane dead, Her name is Ounceville; An she has died for a courteous knicht, His name is Lord Travell.'
9 'Oh hand ye aboot, ye gentlemen, The white bread an the wine, For the morn's nicht aboot this time Ye'll do the same for mine!'
D
Kinloch MSS, VII, 83, from the recitation of a lady of Roxburghshire; Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 31.
1 Lord Lovel stands at his stable-door, Mounted upon a grey steed, And bye cam Ladie Nanciebel, And wishd Lord Lovel much speed.
2 'O whare are ye going, Lord Lovel? My dearest, tell unto me:' 'I am going a far journey, Some strange countrey to see.
3 'But I'll return in seven long years, Lady Nanciebel to see:' 'Oh seven, seven, seven long years, They are much too long for me.'
* * * * * * *
4 He was gane about a year away, A year but barely ane, Whan a strange fancy cam intil his head That faire Nanciebel was gane.
5 It's then he rade, and better rade, Untill he cam to the toun, And there he heard a dismal noise, For the church bells au did soun.
6 He asked what the bells rang for; They said, It's for Nanciebel; She died for a discourteous squire, And his name is Lord Lovel.
7 The lid of the coffin he opened up, The linens he faulded doun, And ae he kissd her pale, pale lips, And the tears cam trinkling doun.
8 'Weill may I kiss these pale, pale lips, For they will never kiss me; I'll mak a vow, and I'll keep it true, That I'll neer kiss ane but thee.'
9 Lady Nancie died on Tuesday's nicht, Lord Lovel upon the niest day; Lady Nancie died for pure, pure love, Lord Lovel for deep sorraye.
E
Communicated by J. F. Campbell, Esq., as learned from the singing of an English gentleman, about 1850.
1 'Now fare ye well, Lady Oonzabel, For I must needs be gone, To visit the king of fair Scotland, Oh I must be up and ride.'
2 So he called unto him his little foot-page, To saddle his milk-white steed; Hey down, hey down, hey derry, hey down, How I wish my Lord Lovel good speed!
3 He had not been in fair Scotland, Not passing half a year, When a lover-like thought came into his head, Lady Oonzabel he would go see her.
4 So he called unto him his little foot-page, To saddle his milk-white steed; Hey down, hey down, hey derry, hey down, How I wish my Lord Lovel good speed.
5 He had not been in fair England, Not passing half a day, When the bells of the high chappel did ring, And they made a loud sassaray.
6 He asked of an old gentleman Who was sitting there all alone, Why the bells of the high chappel did ring, And the ladies were making a moan.
7 'Oh, the king's fair daughter is dead,' said he; 'Her name's Lady Oonzabel; And she died for the love of a courteous young knight, And his name it is Lord Lovel.'
* * * * * * *
8 He caused the bier to be set down, The winding sheet undone, And drawing forth his rapier bright, Through his own true heart did it run.
9 Lady Oonzabel lies in the high chappel, Lord Lovel he lies in the quier; And out of the one there grew up a white rose, And out of the other a brier.
10 And they grew, and they grew, to the high chappel top; They could not well grow any higher; And they twined into a true lover's knot, So in death they are joined together.
F
Communicated by Mr Robert White, of Newcastle-on-Tyne.
1 As Lord Lovel was at the stable-door, Mounting his milk-white steed, Who came by but poor Nancy Bell, And she wished Lovel good speed.
2 'O where are ye going, Lord Lovel?' she said, 'How long to tarry from me?' 'Before six months are past and gone, Again I'll return to thee.'
3 He had not been a twelvemonth away, A twelvemonth and a day, Till Nancy Bell grew sick and sad, She pined and witherd away.
4 The very first town that he came to, He heard the death-bell knell; The very next town that he came to, They said it was Nancy Bell.
5 He orderd the coffin to be broke open, The sheet to be turned down, And then he kissd her cold pale lips, Till the tears ran tricklin down.
6 The one was buried in St. John's church, The other in the choir; From Nancy Bell sprang a bonny red rose, From Lord Lovel a bonny briar.
7 They grew, and they grew, to the height o the church, To they met from either side, And at the top a true lover's knot Shows that one for the other had died.
G
Harris MS., fol. 28 b, from the recitation of Mrs Molison, Dunlappie.
1 Lord Revel he stands in his stable-door, He was dressing a milk-white steed; A lady she stands in her bour-door, A dressin with haste an speed.
2 'O where are you goin, Lord Revel,' she said, 'Where are you going from me?' 'It's I am going to Lonnon toun, That fair city for to see.'
3 'When will you be back, Lord Revel?' she said, 'When will you be back to me?' 'I will be back in the space of three years, To wed you, my gey ladie.'
4 'That's too long a time for me,' she said, 'That's too long a time for me; For I'll be dead long time ere that, For want of your sweet companie.'
5 He had not been in Lonnon toun A month but barely three, When word was brought that Isabell Was sick, an like to dee.
6 He had not been in Lonnon toun A year but barely ane, When word was brought from Lonnon toun That Isabell was gane.
7 He rode an he rode along the high way, Till he came to Edenborrow toon: Is there any fair lady dead,' said he, 'That the bells gie such a tone?'
8 'Oh yes, there's a ladie, a very fine ladie, Her name it is Isabell; She died for the sake of a young Scottish knight, His name it is Lord Revel.'
9 'Deal well, deal well at Isabell's burial The biscuit and the beer, An gainst the morrow at this same time You'll aye deal mair and mair.
10 'Deal well, deal well at Isabell's burial The white bread and the wine, An gainst the morn at this same time You'll deal the same at mine.'
11 They dealt well, dealt weel at Isabell's burial The biscuit an the beer, And gainst the morn at that same time They dealt them mair an mair.
12 They dealt weel, dealt weel at Isabell's burial The white bread an the wine, An gainst the morn at that same time They dealt the same again.
H
#a.# London broadside of 1846, in Dixon's Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs of the Peasantry of England, p. 78, Percy Society, vol. XIX. #b.# Davidson's Universal Melodist, I, 148.
1 Lord Lovel he stood at his castle-gate, Combing his milk-white steed, When up came Lady Nancy Belle, To wish her lover good speed, speed, To wish her lover good speed.
2 'Where are you going, Lord Lovel?' she said, 'Oh where are you going?' said she; 'I'm going, my Lady Nancy Belle, Strange countries for to see.'
3 'When will you be back, Lord Lovel?' she said, 'Oh when will you come back?' said she; 'In a year or two, or three, at the most, I'll return to my fair Nancy.'
4 But he had not been gone a year and a day, Strange countries for to see, When languishing thoughts came into his head, Lady Nancy Belle he would go see.
5 So he rode, and he rode, on his milk-white steed, Till he came to London town, And there he heard St Pancras bells, And the people all mourning round.
6 'Oh what is the matter?' Lord Lovel he said, 'Oh what is the matter?' said he; 'A lord's lady is dead,' a woman replied, 'And some call her Lady Nancy.'
7 So he ordered the grave to be opened wide, And the shroud he turned down, And there he kissed her clay-cold lips, Till the tears came trickling down.
8 Lady Nancy she died, as it might be, today, Lord Lovel he died as tomorrow; Lady Nancy she died out of pure, pure grief, Lord Lovel he died out of sorrow.
9 Lady Nancy was laid in St. Pancras church, Lord Lovel was laid in the choir; And out of her bosom there grew a red rose, And out of her lover's a briar.
10 They grew, and they grew, to the church-steeple too, And then they could grow no higher; So there they entwined in a true-lover's knot, For all lovers true to admire.
I
Percy Papers, communicated by Principal Robertson, the historian.
1 There came a ghost to Helen's bower, Wi monny a sigh and groan: 'O make yourself ready, at Wednesday at een, Fair Helen, you must be gone.'
2 'O gay Death, O gallant Death, Will you spare my life sae lang Untill I send to merry Primrose, Bid my dear lord come hame?'
3 'O gay Helen, O galant Helen, I winna spare you sae lang; But make yoursell ready, again Wednesday at een, Fair Helen, you must be gane.'
4 'O where will I get a bonny boy, That would win hose and shoon, That will rin fast to merry Primrose, Bid my dear lord come soon?'
5 O up and speak a little boy, That would win hose and shoon: 'Aft have I gane your errants, lady, But by my suth I'll rin.'
6 When he came to broken briggs He bent his bow and swam, And when he came to grass growing He cast off his shoon and ran.
7 When he came to merry Primrose, His lord he was at meat: 'O my lord, kend ye what I ken, Right little wad ye eat.'
8 'Is there onny of my castles broken doun, Or onny of my towers won? Or is Fair Helen brought to bed Of a doughter or a son?'
9 'There's nane of [your] castles broken doun, Nor nane of your towers won, Nor is Fair Helen brought to bed Of a doghter or a son.'
10 'Gar sadle me the black, black steed, Gar sadle me the brown; Gar sadle me the swiftest horse Eer carried man to town.'
11 First he bursted the bonny black, And then he bursted the brown, And then he bursted the swiftest steed Eer carried man to town.
12 He hadna ridden a mile, a mile, A mile but barelins ten, When he met four and twenty gallant knights, Carrying a dead coffin.
13 'Set down, set down Fair Helen's corps, Let me look on the dead;' And out he took a little pen-knife, And he screeded the winding-sheet.
14 O first he kist her rosy cheek, And then he kist her chin, And then he kist her coral lips, But there's nae life in within.
15 'Gar deal, gar deal the bread,' he says, 'The bread bat an the wine, And at the morn at twelve o'clock Ye's gain as much at mine.'
16 The tane was buried in Mary's kirk, The tother in Mary's choir, And out of the tane there sprang a birch, And out of the tother a briar.
17 The tops of them grew far sundry, But the roots of them grew neer, And ye may easy ken by that They were twa lovers dear.
* * * * *
#A.#
_The copy sent Percy in 1770 was slightly revised by Parsons; the original was communicated in 1775._
3^3. along in.
4^4. coud speed.
6^3. make.
6^4. their mourn.
10^4. _Parsons corrects ~bunch~ to ~branch~._
#G.#
7^4. bell.
#H. a.#
10^1. church-steeple too, _perhaps a misprint for_ top.
#b.#
_This is an attempt to burlesque the broadside by vulgarizing two or three words, as ~lovier~, ~buzzum~, and inserting one stanza._
2^4, 4^2. Foreign countries.
3^3. In a year, or two or three, or four.
4^1. twelve months and a day.
6^3. dead, the people all said.
7^2. to be turned.
7^4. Whilst.
_After_ 7:
Then he flung his self down by the side of the corpse, With a shivering gulp and a guggle; Gave two hops, three kicks, heavd a sigh, blew his nose, Sung a song, and then died in the struggle.
10^1. church-steeple top.
10^3. they twin'd themselves into.
#I.#
3^2. 'you,' _as if changed or supplied_.
5^2. _Crossed out. In a different hand_, Just at the lady's chin.
7^4. would wad ye.
11^3. swifted.
13^4. _Perhaps_ scrieded.
[120] It can scarcely be too often repeated that such ballads as this were meant only to be sung, not at all to be recited. As has been well remarked of a corresponding Norwegian ballad, 'Lord Lovel' is especially one of those which, for their due effect, require the support of a melody, and almost equally the comment of a burden. No burden is preserved in the case of 'Lord Lovel,' but we are not to infer that there never was one. The burden, which is at least as important as the instrumental accompaniment of modern songs, sometimes, in these little tragedies, foreshadows calamity from the outset, sometimes, as in the Norwegian ballad referred to, is a cheerful-sounding formula, which in the upshot enhances by contrast the gloom of the conclusion. "A simple but life-like story, supported by the burden and the air, these are the means by which such old romances seek to produce an impression:" Landstad, to 'Herr Stragi,' p. 541.
[121] (1), 'Das Lied vom Herren und der Magd,' 1771, Düntzer u. Herder, Briefe Goethe's an Herder, I, 157. (2), 'Eyn klegliche Mordgeschicht, von ey'm Graven vnnde eyner Meyd,' Nicolai, Eyn feyner kleyner Almanach, 1777, I, 39, No 2; with variations, Kretzschmer, I, 89, No 54, Uhland, p. 220, No 97 A. (3), 'Der Ritter und das Mägdlein,' Erk, Liederhort, p. 81, No 26, a traditional variety of (2). (4), Wunderhorn, 1806, I, 50==Erlach, II, 531, Mittler, No 91. (5), 'Des Prinzen Reue,' Meinert, p. 218, 1817. (6), Alemannia, II, 185, after a manuscript of von Arnim. (7), Erk's edition of the Wunderhorn, IV, 304. (8), Hoffmann u. Richter, Schlesische Volkslieder, p. 9, No 4. (9), Erk u. Irmer, IV, 62, No 56. (10), 'Zu späte Reue,' Fiedler, p. 161. (11), 'Der Erbgraf,' Simrock, p. 33, No 12, compounded, but partly oral. (12), 'Der Ritter und seine Dame,' Pröhle, p. 19, No 13. (13), Meier, p. 316, No 177. (14-16), Ditfurth, II, 4-8, Nos 6, 7, 8. (17-22), Wagner, in Deutsches Museum, 1862, II, 758-68. (23), 'Der Herr und seine Dame,' Peter, I, 193, No 10. (24), Parisius, p. 33, No 10. (25), Adam Wolf, p. 11, No 6. (26), Alfred Müller, p. 98. (27), 'Die traurige Begegnung,' Paudler, p. 21, No 13.
Scandinavian, from the German: 'Ungersvennens Dröm,' Fagerlund, Anteckningar, p. 196; 'Jungfruns död,' Wigström, Folkdiktning, I, 52; and besides these Swedish copies, a Danish broadside, from the beginning of this century, which is very common. 'Stolten Hellelille,' "Tragica, No 22," 1657, Danske Viser, III, 184, No 130 (translated by Prior, III, 214), a somewhat artificial piece, has the outline of 'Der Ritter u. die Maid,' and is a hundred years older than any known copy of the German ballad.
A Wendish ballad, founded on the German, is very like (4): Haupt and Schmaler, I, 139, No 136.
A Dutch ballad, in the Antwerpener Liederbuch, No 45, Hoffmann, Niederländische Volkslieder, p. 61, No 15, Willems, p. 154, No 60, Uhland, No 97 B, has some points of the above, but is a very different story.
[122] There is a Finnish form of this ballad, probably derived from the Swedish; also another Swedish version in Westergötlands Fornminnesförenings Tidskrift, 1869, häfte 1, which I have not yet seen.
[123] (1), "Bothe, Frühlings-Almanach," p. 132, 1806; 'Hans Markgraf,' Büsching u. von der Hagen, p. 30; Erlach, II, 136; Mittler, No 133. (2), 'Alle bei Gott die sich lieben,' Wunderhorn, II, 250, 1808, Mittler, No 128. (3), 'Alle bei Gott die sich lieben,' Hoffmann u. Richter, p. 12, No 5, Mittler, No 132. (4), 'Der Graf u. die Bauerntochter,' Ditfurth, II, 8, No 9. (5), 'Vom jungen Markgrafen,' Pogatschnigg u. Hermann, II, 179, No 595. (6), 'Die junge Mutter,' Paudler, p. 22, No 14.
(7), 'Jungfer Dörtchen ist todt,' Parisius, p. 36, No 10. (8), 'Liebchens Tod,' Erk u. Irmer, VI, 4, No 2; Mittler, No 130. (9), 'Jägers Trauer,' Pröhle, p. 86, No 57; Mittler, No 129. (10), 'Das unverdiente Kränzlein,' Meinert, p. 32; Mittler, No 131. For plants springing from lovers' graves, as here and in Nos 73, 74, see vol. i, 96 ff.
[124] In (2) the lover is warned of mishap by a bird, and the bird is a nightingale, as in Kristensen, II, No 20 A. A bird of some sort figures in all the Danish ballads referred to, printed and unprinted, and in the Swedish 'Hertig Nils;' also in the corresponding Finnish ballad. The nightingale warns to the same effect in a French ballad, Beaurepaire, p. 52. The lover goes straight to his mistress's house, and learns that they are burying her; then makes for the cemetery, hears the bells, the priests chanting, etc., and approaches the bier. The dead gives him some information, followed by some admonition.
76
THE LASS OF ROCH ROYAL
#A.# 'Fair Isabell of Rochroyall,' Elizabeth Cochrane's Song-Book, p. 151, No 114.
#B.# 'The Bonny Lass of Lochroyan, or Lochroyen,' Herd's MSS, I, 144, II, 60; Herd's Scottish Songs, 1776, I, 149.
#C.# 'Lord Gregory,' Pitcairn's MSS, III, 1.
#D.# 'Fair Anny,' Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 27; 'Fair Annie of Lochroyan,' Jamieson's Popular Ballads, I, 36.
#E.# #a.# 'Love Gregor,' Alexander Fraser Tytler's Brown MS., No 2. #b.# 'The Lass of Lochroyan,' Scott's Minstrelsy, II, 49, 1802.
#F.# Herd's MSS, I, 31, II, 65.
#G.# 'Love Gregory,' Buchan's MSS, II, 149; Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 198; Dixon, Scottish Traditional Versions of Ancient Ballads, Percy Society, vol. xvii, p. 60.
#H.# 'The Lass of Aughrim,' an Irish version, communicated by Mr G. C. Mahon, of Ann Arbor, Michigan.
#I.# 'Oh open the door, Lord Gregory,' Johnson's Museum, I, 5, No 5, four stanzas.
#J.# Motherwell's Note-Book, p. 12, two stanzas.
#K.# Stenhouse's Johnson's Museum, IV, *107, one stanza.
* * * * *
#A#, never as yet published, is from a manuscript of the first half of the last century. #B#, the earliest printed copy, was given by Herd, from his manuscript, in 1776, with his usual fidelity. Scott followed, in 1802, with a copy obtained from Mrs Brown by Alexander Fraser Tytler in 1800, introducing six stanzas from #B# and five from #F#, and a few readings from two recited copies. This compounded copy is the one that is most generally known. Jamieson printed, in 1806, #D#, a version written down from Mrs Brown's recitation in 1783, giving it not quite _verbatim_, as he says (he changes, for instance, Rochroyal to Lochroyan), but in general adhering to his text. #E a#, the copy principally used by Scott, is, to a considerable extent, a repetition of #D#, but is by no means an imperfectly remembered version of its predecessor (which was written down seventeen years earlier), filled out by Mrs Brown's improvised inventions. #E a# has stanzas not found in #D#, two of which occur in #B#, and is to be regarded as a blending of two independent versions known to Mrs Brown, which no doubt had much in common, though not so much as #D# and #E a#. The whole of the fragment #F# has not been published hitherto, but five of the eight stanzas are interpolated into Scott's copy, including the two last, which are shown by the very style to be spurious. Fairy charms have been exercised on Lord Gregory, according to the final stanza of #F#, and Lord Gregory calls his dame "witch mother" in #C# 10. But there appears to be no call for magic or witchcraft in the case. A man who is asleep is simply not informed by an ill disposed mother that a woman whom he would like to see is at the door; that is all.[125]
#A#, the oldest copy, has a preliminary history wanting in the others. Isabel of Rochroyal has a dream about her lover. She orders her horse, to ride till she comes to some hold. She meets a company, who ask her questions about a first and a second young may, which _she_ seems to understand, but which are not made intelligible to us. They then ask whether she be Isabel of Rochroyal, and she answers that she is that same lady, banished from kith and kin; why, we are not informed, but we might conjecture that it would be on account of her relations with Love Gregory. She is directed to Gregory's castle, tirls at the pin, and begs admission. Gregory's mother answers as and for her son, and demands proofs of her being the lass of Rochroyal. These are given, and the mother says that Gregory is gone to sea. Hereupon Isabel breaks out into exclamations as to her helpless condition; who will take care of her? who will be the bairn's father till Gregory come home? The mother replies that she will do all that is necessary for her, but there is none to be her bairn's father till Gregory return. This is in itself unnatural, since the mother is hostile to her son's love, and it is counter to what we read in the other versions. In #B# as in #A#, to be sure, the lass is said to be banished from her kin, but her kin nevertheless show a disposition to do all that is in their power in the way of kind attentions. The other copies say nothing of her family being alienated. The father in #D# even furnishes his daughter with a bonny ship, to go to her true-love. If we seek to reconcile these accounts, we must take the banishment as a separation for which only the fates are responsible, and suppose that verses are lost in #A# after 17 which narrated Annie's return to her own family. The lass says, st. 22, that she will set her foot on ship-board, having been told by the mother, st. 17, that Gregory is on the sea. Gregory, in turn, has his dream, that his love has been knocking at the door, and his mother tells him that she has not been gone half an hour, and gets his curses for not informing him. Gregory orders his swiftest horse, to ride till he comes to some hold, and presently meets a funeral train who are carrying his love to burial. This conclusion, found also in #B#, #C#, is that of 'Lord Lovel' and 'Fair Margaret and Sweet William,' and must perhaps be set aside as not the original one. In #B# Gregory kills himself, as Lord Lovel does in one copy, #E#.
The whole story as #A# actually stands, notwithstanding that the lass says she will take ship, seems to pass on land. Two different relations may have been confounded. In the other versions Love Gregory is somewhere over sea, and in #B#, #F# his lass is indebted for his direction, not to a company who are raking over the lea, but to a sea-rover, who shows a consideration not to be looked for from his class.[126] The maid, repulsed by Gregory's mother, and supposing herself to be cast off by Gregory himself, sails away from his castle, and in #D#, #E# encounters a storm, and is wrecked. In #D# Gregory rushes to the strand near which his castle lies, sees Annie sailing away, witnesses the wreck of her vessel, plunges into the sea and brings her body to land, and dies of heartbreak. So in #E#, with the difference that Annie's body is thrown ashore by the waves, and that the tale does not finish with the death of Gregory, which we know must have followed.
Why the lovers are parted, why Gregory winna come to the lass, and she must go to him, is not accounted for in #C-G#. We may deduce from #A# and #B#, though the story in these versions as we have it is not altogether consistent, that the lass was banished from kith and kin on account of her connection with Gregory (which in #B# 16 and #H# 9 is said to have been irregular) and flying to her lover, found no acceptance with his mother.
Cunningham has rewritten this ballad, Scottish Songs, I, 298, and several songs have been composed on the story: by Burns and Dr Wolcott (Peter Pindar), Thomson's Select Melodies of Scotland, I, 37, ed. 1822; Jamieson, Popular Ballads, I, 46; and by an anonymous writer in a London periodical, cited by Dixon, Scottish Traditional Versions of Ancient Ballads, p. 99.
Roch- or Rough-royal, #A#, #D#, #E#, #F#, Ruchlawhill, #C#, I have not found, but there is a Rough castle in Stirlingshire. Loch Ryan runs up into the north-west corner of Wigtown, a shire at the south-west extremity of Scotland. Aughrim is in the county of Roscommon, Ireland.
As the mother in this ballad, feigning to be her son, requires the lady at the gate to legitimate herself by mentioning some of the tokens which have been exchanged between her and her lover, so in other ballads a wife demands conclusive proofs that a man claiming to be her long absent husband is what he pretends to be. E. g., some forms of the French ballad of 'Germaine:'
'Ouvre ta port', Germin', c'est moi qu'est ton mari.' 'Donnez-moi des indic's de la première nuit, Et par là je croirai que vous êt's mon mari.'
'T'en souviens-tu, Germin', de la première nuit, Où tu étais monté' sur un beau cheval gris, Placée entre tes frèr's et moi ton favori?'
'Donnez-moi des indic's de la deuxième nuit, Et par là je croirai que vous êt's mon mari, Et par là je croirai que vous êt's mon mari.'
'T'en souviens-tu, Germin', de la deuxième nuit? En te serrant les doigts ton anneau y cassa, Tu en as la moitié, et l'autre la voilà.'
Champfleury, Chansons populaires des Provinces, p. 196.
Cf. Poésies pop. de la France, MS., IV, fol. 189; Puymaigre, p. 11, 2d ed., I, 50 f; Beaurepaire, p. 76; Fleury, p. 267; Rathery, in Le Moniteur, Aug. 26, 1853, p. 945 f, 'Le Sire de Créqui;' Wolf, Volkslieder aus Venetien, No 81, p. 59; Ferraro, Canti p. monferrini, No 26, p. 33. And again in Romaic: Ἡ Αναγνωρισις, etc.; Fauriel, II, 422-25; Tommaseo, III, 141-44, 148-50; Marcellus, Chants du Peuple en Grèce, I, 328; Schmidt, Griechische Märchen, u. s. w., p. 192, No 57; Chasiotis, p. 89, No 28; Zambelios, p. 718, No 5; Jeannaraki, p. 237, No 300; Aravandinos, pp 209, 211, Nos 347, 348; Passow, pp 321-28, Nos 441-446; Manousos, p. 103==Fauriel, II, 423. Several of the ballads in Passow are of course repetitions.[127]
* * * * *
#D# is translated, after Jamieson, by Grundtvig, Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, No 16; #E b#, Scott's compounded version, by Schubart, p. 93, Doenniges, p. 33, Gerhard, p. 21, Wolff, Halle der Völker, I, 52, and by Rosa Warrens, Schottische Volkslieder der Vorzeit, No 39, with a change or two from Aytoun; Allingham's compounded version by Knortz, Lieder u. Romanzen Alt-Englands, No 63.
A
#E.# Cochrane's Songbook, p. 151, No 114.
1 Fair Isabell of Rochroyall, She dreamed where she lay, She dreamd a dream of her love Gregory, A litle before the day.
2 O huly, huly rose she up, And huly she put on, And huly, huly she put on The silks of crimsion.
3 'Gar sadle me the black,' she sayes, 'Gar sadle me the broun; Gar sadle me the swiftest steed That ever rode the toun.
4 'Gar shoe him with the beat silver, And grind him with the gold; Gar put two bells on every side, Till I come to some hold.'
5 She had not rode a mile, a mile, A mile but barely three, Till that she spyed a companie Come rakeing oere the lee.
6 'O whether is this the first young may, That lighted and gaed in; Or is this the second young may, That neer the sun shined on? Or is this Fair Isabell of Roch Royall, Banisht from kyth and kin.'
7 'O I am not the first young may, That lighted and gaed in; Nor neither am I the second young may, That neer the sun shone on;
8 'But I'm Fair Isabell of Roch Royall Banisht from kyth and kin; I'm seeking my true-love Gregory, And I woud I had him in.'
9 'O go your way to yon castle, And ride it round about, And there you'll find Love Gregory; He's within, without any doubt.'
10 O she's away to yon castle, She's tirled at the pin: 'O open, open, Love Gregory, And let your true-love in.'
11 'If you be the lass of the Rochroyall, As I trow not you be, You will tell me some of our love-tokens, That was betwixt you and me.'
12 'Have you not mind, Love Gregory, Since we sat at the wine; When we changed the rings off our fingers, And ay the worst fell mine?
13 'Mine was of the massy gold, And thine was of the tin; Mine was true and trusty both, And thine was false within.'
14 If you be [the] lass of the Roch Royall, As I trow not you be, You will tell me some other love-token That was betwixt you and me.'
15 'Have you not mind, Love Gregory, Since we sat at the wine, We changed the smocks off our two backs, And ay the worst fell mine?
16 'Mine was of the holland fine, And thine was course and thin; So many blocks have we two made, And ay the worst was mine.'
17 'Love Gregory, he is not at home, But he is to the sea; If you have any word to him, I pray you leave 't with me.'
* * * * * * *
18 'O who will shoe my bony foot? Or who will glove my hand? Or who will bind my midle jimp With the broad lilly band?
19 'Or who will comb my bony head With the red river comb? Or who will be my bairn's father Ere Gregory he come home?'
20 'O I's gar shoe thy bony foot, And I's gar glove thy hand, And I's gar bind thy midle jimp With the broad lilly band.
21 'And I's gar comb thy bony head With the red river comb; But there is none to be thy bairn's father Till Love Gregory he come home.
22 'I'll set my foot on the ship-board, God send me wind and more! For there's never a woman shall bear a son Shall make my heart so sore.'
23 'I dreamed a dream now since yestreen, That I never dreamed before; I dreamd that the lass of the Rochroyall Was knocking at the door.'
24 'Ly still, ly still, my é dear son, Ly still, and take a sleep; For it's neither ane hour, nor yet a half, Since she went from the gate.'
25 'O wo be to you, ill woman, And ane ill death mott you die! For you might have come to my bed-side, And then have wakened me.
26 'Gar sadle me the black,' he sayes, 'Gar sadle me the broun; Gar sadle me the swiftest steed That ever rode the toun.
27 'Gar shoe him with the beat silver, Gar grind him with the gold; Cause put two bells on every side, Till I come to some hold.'
28 They sadled him the black, the black, So did they him the broun; So did they him the swiftest steed That ever rode to toun.
29 They shoed him with the beat silver, They grind him with the gold; They put two bells on every side, Till he came to some hold.
30 He had not rode a mile, a mile, A mile but barely three, Till that he spyed her comely corps Come raking oere the lee.
31 'Set doun, set doun these comely corps, Let me look on the dead:' And out he's ta'en his little pen-knife, And slitted her winding sheet.
32 And first he kist her cheek, her cheek, And then he kist her chin; And then he kist her rosy lips, But there was no breath within.
33 'Gar deall, gar deall for my love sake The spiced bread and the wine; For ere the morn at this time So shall you deall for mine.
34 'Gar deall, gar deall for my love sake The pennys that are so small; For ere the morn at this time, So shall you deall for all.'
35 The one was buried in Mary kirk, The other in Mary quire; Out of the one there sprung a birk, Out of the other a bryar; So thus you may well know by that They were two lovers dear.
B
Herd's MS, I, 144; II, 60, the first ten lines; Herd's Scottish Songs, 1776, I, 149.
1 'O wha will shoe thy bonny feet? Or wha will glove thy hand? Or wha will lace thy midle jimp, With a lang, lang London whang?
2 'And wha will kame thy bonny head, With a tabean brirben kame? And wha will be my bairn's father, Till Love Gregory come hame?'
3 'Thy father'll shoe his bonny feet, Thy mither'll glove his hand; Thy brither will lace his middle jimp, With a lang, lang London whang.
4 'Mysel will kame his bonny head, With a tabean brirben kame; And the Lord will be the bairn's father, Till Love Gregory come hame.'
5 Then she's gart build a bonny ship, It's a' cored oer with pearl, And at every needle-tack was in't There hang a siller bell.
6 And she's awa ... To sail upon the sea; She's gane to seek Love Gregory, In lands whereer he be.
7 She hadna saild a league but twa, O scantly had she three, Till she met with a rude rover, Was sailing on the sea.
8 'O whether is thou the Queen hersel, Or ane o her maries three? Or is thou the lass of Lochroyan, Seeking Love Gregory?'
9 'O I am not the Queen hersell, Nor ane o her maries three; But I am the lass o Lochroyan, Seeking Love Gregory.
10 'O sees na thou yone bonny bower? It's a' cored oer with tin; When thou hast saild it round about, Love Gregory is within.'
11 When she had saild it round about, She tirled at the pin: 'O open, open, Love Gregory, Open, and let me in! For I am the lass of Lochroyan, Banisht frae a' my kin.'
12 'If thou be the lass of Lochroyan, As I know no thou be, Tell me some of the true tokens That past between me and thee.'
13 'Hast thou na mind, Love Gregory, As we sat at the wine, We changed the rings aff ither's hands, And ay the best was mine?
14 'For mine was o the gude red gould, But thine was o the tin; And mine was true and trusty baith, But thine was fa'se within.
15 'If thou be the lass of Lochroyan, As I know na thou be, Tell me some mair o the true tokens Past between me and thee.'
16 'And has na thou na mind, Love Gregory, As we sat on yon hill, Thou twin'd me of my [maidenhead,] Right sair against my will?
17 'Now open, open, Love Gregory, Open, and let me in! For the rain rains on my gude cleading, And the dew stands on my chin.'
18 Then she has turnd her round about: 'Well, since that it be sae, Let never woman that has born a son Hae a heart sae full of wae.
19 'Take down, take down that mast o gould, Set up a mast of tree; For it dinna become a forsaken lady To sail so royallie.'
20 'I dreamt a dream this night, mother, I wish it may prove true, That the bonny lass of Lochroyan Was at the gate just now.'
21 'Lie still, lie still, my only son, And sound sleep mayst thou get, For it's but an hour or little mair Since she was at the gate.'
22 Awa, awa, ye wicket woman, And an ill dead may ye die! Ye might have ither letten her in, Or else have wakened me.
23 'Gar saddle to me the black,' he said, 'Gar saddle to me the brown; Gar saddle to me the swiftest steed That is in a' the town.'
24 Now the first town that he cam to, The bells were ringing there; And the neist toun that he cam to, Her corps was coming there.
25 'Set down, set down that comely corp, Set down, and let me see Gin that be the lass of Lochroyan, That died for love o me.'
26 And he took out the little penknife That hang down by his gare, And he's rippd up her winding-sheet, A lang claith-yard and mair.
27 And first he kist her cherry cheek, And syne he kist her chin, And neist he kist her rosy lips; There was nae breath within.
28 And he has taen his little penknife, With a heart that was fou sair, He has given himself a deadly wound, And word spake never mair.
C
Pitcairn's MSS, III, 1, from the singing of Widow Stevenson.
* * * * * * *
1 She sailed west, she sailed east, She sailed mony a mile, Until she cam to Lord Gregor's yett, And she tirled at the pin.
2 'It's open, open, Lord Gregory, Open, and let me in; For the rain drops on my gouden hair, And drops upon your son.'
3 'Are you the Queen of Queensberry? Or one of the marys three? Or are you the lass of Ruchlaw hill, Seeking Lord Gregory?'
4 'I'm not the Queen of Queensberry, Nor one of the marys three; But I am the bonny lass of Ruchlawhill, Seeking Lord Gregory.'
5 'Awa, awa, ye fause thief, I will not open to thee Till you tell me the first token That was tween you and me.'
6 'Do not you mind, Lord Gregory, When we birled at the wine, We changed the rings of our fingers, And ay the best was mine?
7 'For mine was true and trusty goud, But yours it was of tin; Mine was of the true and trusty goud, But yours was fause within.'
8 She turned about her bonny ship, Awa then did she sail: 'The sun shall never shine on man That made my heart so sare.'
9 Then up the old mother she got, And wakened Lord Gregory: 'Awa, awa, ye fause gudeson, A limmer was seeking thee.'
10 'It's woe be to you, witch-mother, An ill death may you die! For you might hae set the yet open, And then hae wakened me.'
11 It's up he got, and put on his clothes, And to the yet he ran; The first sight of the ship he saw, He whistled and he sang.
12 But whan the bonny ship was out o sight, He clapped his hands and ran, . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
13 The first kirktoun he cam to, He heard the death-bell ring, The second kirktoun he cam to, He saw her corpse come in.
14 'Set down, set down this bonny corpse, That I may look upon; If she died late for me last night, I'll die for her the morn.
15 'Be merry, merry, gentlemen, Be merry at the bread and wine; For by the morn at this time o day You'll drink as much at mine.'
16 The one was buried in Mary's isle, The other in Mary's quire; Out of the one there grew a thorn, And out of the other a brier.
17 And aye they grew, and aye they blew, Till their twa taps did meet; And every one that passed thereby Might see they were lovers sweet.
D
Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 27; Jamieson's Popular Ballads, I, 36.
1 'O wha will shoe my fu fair foot? An wha will glove my han? An wha will lace my middle gimp Wi the new made London ban?
2 'Or wha will kemb my yallow hair, Wi the new made silver kemb? Or wha'll be father to my young bairn, Till Love Gregor come hame?'
3 Her father shoed her fu fair foot, Her mother glovd her han; Her sister lac'd her middle gimp Wi the new made London ban.
4 Her brother kembd her yallow hair, Wi the new made silver kemb, But the king o heaven maun father her bairn, Till Love Gregor come hame.
5 'O gin I had a bony ship, An men to sail wi me, It's I would gang to my true-love, Since he winna come to me.'
6 Her father's gien her a bonny ship, An sent her to the stran; She's tane her young son in her arms, An turnd her back to the lan.
7 She had na been o the sea saillin About a month or more, Till landed has she her bonny ship Near her true-love's door.
8 The night was dark, an the win blew caul, An her love was fast asleep, An the bairn that was in her twa arms Fu sair began to weep.
9 Long stood she at her true-love's door, An lang tirld at the pin; At length up gat his fa'se mither, Says, Wha's that woud be in?
10 'O it is Anny of Roch-royal, Your love, come oer the sea, But an your young son in her arms; So open the door to me.'
11 'Awa, awa, you ill woman, You've na come here for gude, You're but a witch, or wile warlock, Or mermaid o the flude.'
12 'I'm na a witch, or wile warlock, Nor mermaiden,' said she; 'I'm but Fair Anny o Roch-royal; O open the door to me.'
13 'O gin ye be Anny o Roch-royal, As [I] trust not ye be, What taiken can ye gie that ever I kept your company?'
14 'O dinna ye mind, Love Gregor,' she says, 'Whan we sat at the wine, How we changed the napkins frae our necks, It's na sae lang sin syne?
15 'An yours was good, an good enough, But nae sae good as mine; For yours was o the cumbruk clear, But mine was silk sae fine.
16 'An dinna ye mind, Love Gregor,' she says, 'As we twa sat at dine, How we changed the rings frae our fingers, But ay the best was mine?
17 'For yours was good, an good enough, Yet nae sae good as mine; For yours was of the good red gold, But mine o the diamonds fine.
18 'Sae open the door now, Love Gregor, An open it wi speed, Or your young son that is in my arms For cauld will soon be dead.'
19 'Awa, awa, you ill woman, Gae frae my door for shame; For I hae gotten another fair love, Sae ye may hye you hame.'
20 'O hae you gotten another fair love, For a' the oaths you sware? Then fair you well now, fa'se Gregor, For me you's never see mair.'
21 O heely, heely gi'd she back, As the day began to peep; She set her foot on good ship-board, An sair, sair did she weep.
22 Love Gregor started frae his sleep, An to his mither did say, I dreamd a dream this night, mither, That maks my heart right wae.
23 'I dreamd that Anny of Roch-royal, The flowr o a' her kin, Was standin mournin at my door, But nane would lat her in.'
24 'O there was a woman stood at the door, Wi a bairn intill her arms, But I woud na lat her within the bowr, For fear she had done you harm.'
25 O quickly, quickly raise he up, An fast ran to the stran, An there he saw her Fair Anny, Was sailin frae the lan.
26 An 'Heigh, Anny!' an 'Hou, Anny! O Anny, speak to me!' But ay the louder that he cried Anny, The louder roard the sea.
27 An 'Heigh, Anny!' an 'Hou, Anny! O Anny, winna you bide?' But ay the langer that he cried Anny, The higher roard the tide.
28 The win grew loud, an the sea grew rough, An the ship was rent in twain, An soon he saw her Fair Anny Come floating oer the main.
29 He saw his young son in her arms, Baith tossd aboon the tide; He wrang his hands, than fast he ran, An plung'd i the sea sae wide.
30 He catchd her by the yallow hair, An drew her to the strand, But cauld an stiff was every limb Before he reachd the land.
31 O first he kissd her cherry cheek, An then he kissd her chin; An sair he kissd her ruby lips, But there was nae breath within.
32 O he has mournd oer Fair Anny Till the sun was gaing down, Then wi a sigh his heart it brast, An his soul to heaven has flown.
E
#a.# Alexander Fraser Tytler's Brown MS., No 2, written down from Mrs Brown's recitation in 1800. #b.# Scott's Minstrelsy, II, 49, 1802.
1 'O wha will shoe my fu fair foot? And wha will glove my hand? And wha will lace my middle jimp, Wi the new made London band?
2 'And wha will kaim my yellow hair, Wi the new made silver kaim? And wha will father my young son, Till Love Gregor come hame?'
3 'Your father will shoe your fu fair foot, Your mother will glove your hand; Your sister will lace your middle jimp Wi the new made London band.
4 'Your brother will kaim your yellow hair, Wi the new made silver kaim; And the king of heaven will father your bairn, Till Love Gregor come haim.'
5 'But I will get a bonny boat, And I will sail the sea, For I maun gang to Love Gregor, Since he canno come hame to me.'
6 O she has gotten a bonny boat, And sailld the sa't sea fame; She langd to see her ain true-love, Since he could no come hame.
7 'O row your boat, my mariners, And bring me to the land, For yonder I see my love's castle, Closs by the sa't sea strand.'
8 She has taen her young son in her arms, And to the door she's gone, And lang she's knocked and sair she ca'd, But answer got she none.
9 'O open the door, Love Gregor,' she says, 'O open, and let me in; For the wind blaws thro my yellow hair, And the rain draps oer my chin.'
10 'Awa, awa, ye ill woman, You'r nae come here for good; You'r but some witch, or wile warlock, Or mer-maid of the flood.'
11 'I am neither a witch nor a wile warlock, Nor mer-maid of the sea, I am Fair Annie of Rough Royal; O open the door to me.'
12 'Gin ye be Annie of Rough Royal-- And I trust ye are not she-- Now tell me some of the love-tokens That past between you and me.'
13 'O dinna you mind now, Love Gregor, When we sat at the wine, How we changed the rings frae our fingers? And I can show thee thine.
14 'O yours was good, and good enneugh, But ay the best was mine; For yours was o the good red goud, But mine o the dimonds fine.
15 'But open the door now, Love Gregor, O open the door I pray, For your young son that is in my arms Will be dead ere it be day.'
16 'Awa, awa, ye ill woman, For here ye shanno win in; Gae drown ye in the raging sea, Or hang on the gallows-pin.'
17 When the cock had crawn, and day did dawn, And the sun began to peep, Then it raise him Love Gregor, And sair, sair did he weep.
18 'O I dreamd a dream, my mother dear, The thoughts o it gars me greet, That Fair Annie of Rough Royal Lay cauld dead at my feet.'
19 'Gin it be for Annie of Rough Royal That ye make a' this din, She stood a' last night at this door, But I trow she wan no in.'
20 'O wae betide ye, ill woman, An ill dead may ye die! That ye woudno open the door to her, Nor yet woud waken me.'
21 O he has gone down to yon shore-side. As fast as he could fare; He saw Fair Annie in her boat, But the wind it tossd her sair.
22 And 'Hey, Annie!' and 'How, Annie! O Annie, winna ye bide?' But ay the mair that he cried Annie, The braider grew the tide.
23 And 'Hey, Annie!' and 'How, Annie! Dear Annie, speak to me!' But ay the louder he cried Annie, The louder roard the sea.
24 The wind blew loud, the sea grew rough, And dashd the boat on shore; Fair Annie floats on the raging sea, But her young son raise no more.
25 Love Gregor tare his yellow hair, And made a heavy moan; Fair Annie's corpse lay at his feet, But his bonny young son was gone.
26 O cherry, cherry was her cheek, And gowden was her hair, But clay cold were her rosey lips, Nae spark of life was there.
27 And first he's kissd her cherry cheek, And neist he's kissed her chin; And saftly pressd her rosey lips, But there was nae breath within.
28 'O wae betide my cruel mother, And an ill dead may she die! For she turnd my true-love frae my door, When she came sae far to me.'
F
Herd MS., I, 31, II, 65.
1 'O wha will lace my steys, mother? O wha will gluve my hand? O wha will be my bairn's father, While my luve cums to land?'
2 'O sall I lace your steys, dochter, O sall I gluve your hand; And God will be your bairn's father, While your luve cums to land.'
3 Now she's gard build a bonie schip, Forbidden she wad nae be; She's gane wi four score mariners, Sailand the salt, salt sea.
4 They had nae saild but twenty legues, Bot twenty legues and three, When they met wi the ranke robers, And a' their companie.
5 'Now whether are ye the Queen hersell? For so ye weel micht bee, Or are ye the lass o the Ruch Royal, Seekand Lord Gregorie?'
6 'O I am neither the Queen,' she sed, 'Nor sick I seem to be; But I am the lass o the Ruch Royal, Seekand Lord Gregorie.'
* * * * * * *
7 And when she saw the stately tower, Shynand sae cleere and bricht, Whilk proud defies the jawing wave, Built on a rock a hicht,
8 Sche sailed it round, and sailed it sound, And loud, loud cried she, 'Now break, now break, ye fairy charms, And let the prisoner free.'
G
Buchan's MSS. II, 149; Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 198.
1 It fell on a Wodensday, Love Gregory's taen the sea, And he has left his lady Janet, And a weary woman was she.
2 But she had na been in child-bed A day but barely three, Till word has come to Lady Janet Love Gregory she would never see.
3 She's taen her mantle her middle about, Her cane into her hand, And she's awa to the salt-sea side, As fast as she could gang.
4 'Whare will I get a curious carpenter, Will make a boat to me? I'm going to seek him Love Gregory, In's lands where eer he be.'
5 'Here am I, a curious carpenter, Will make a boat for thee, And ye may seek him Love Gregory, But him ye'll never see.'
6 She sailed up, she sailed down, Thro many a pretty stream, Till she came to that stately castle, Where Love Gregory lay in.
7 'Open, open, Love Gregory, O open, and lat me in; Your young son is in my arms, And shivering cheek and chin.'
8 'Had awa, ye ill woman, Had far awa frae me; Ye're but some witch, or some warlock, Or the mermaid, troubling me.
9 'My lady she's in Lochranline, Down by Lochlearn's green; This day she wadna sail the sea, For goud nor warld's gain.
10 'But if ye be my lady Janet, As I trust not well ye be, Come tell me oer some love-token That past 'tween thee an me.'
11 'Mind on, mind on now, Love Gregory, Since we sat at the wine; The rings that were on your fingers, I gied thee mine for thine.
12 'And mine was o the good red goud, Yours o the silly tin, And mine's been true, and very true, But yours had a fause lynin.
13 'But open, open, Love Gregory, Open, and let me in; Your young son is in my arms, He'll be dead ere I win in.'
14 'Had awa, ye ill woman, Had far awa frae me; Ye're but some witch, or some warlock, Or the mermaid, troubling me.
15 'But if ye be my lady Janet, As I trust not well ye be; Come tell me o'er some love-token That past tween thee and me.'
16 'Mind on, mind on, Love Gregory, Since we sat at the wine; The shifts that were upon your back, I gave thee mine for thine.
17 'And mine was o the good holland, And yours o the silly twine, And mine's been true, and very true, But yours had fause lynin.'
* * * * * * *
H
Communicated by Mr G. C. Mahon, of Ann Arbor, Michigan, as sung by a laborer, at Tyrrelspass, West Meath, Ireland, about 1830.
1 'Oh who'll comb my yellow locks, With the brown berry comb? And who'll be the child's father, Until Gregory comes home?'
2 'Oh ... . . . . . . . And God will be the child's father, Until Gregory comes home.'
* * * * * * *
3 'The dew wets my yellow locks, The rain wets my skin, The babe's cold in my arms, Oh Gregory, let me in!'
4 'Oh if you be the lass of Aughrim, As I suppose you not to be, Come tell me the last token Between you and me.' The dew wets, etc.
5 'Oh Gregory, don't you remember One night on the hill, When we swapped rings off each other's hands, Sorely against my will?' Mine was of the beaten gold, Yours was but black tin.' The dew wets, etc.
6 'Oh if you be the lass of Aughrim, As I suppose you not to be, Come tell me the last token Between you and me.' The dew wets, etc.
7 'Oh Gregory don't you remember One night on the hill, When we swapped smocks off each other's backs, Sorely against my will? Mine was of the holland fine, Yours was but Scotch cloth.' The dew wets, etc.
8 'Oh if you be the lass of Aughrim, As I suppose you not to be, Come tell me the last token Between you and me.' The dew wets, etc.
9 'Oh Gregory, don't you remember, In my father's hall, When you had your will of me? And that was worse than all.' . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The dew wets, etc.
I
Johnson's Museum, I, 5, No 5, 1787.
1 'Oh open the door, Lord Gregory, Oh open, and let me in; The rain rains on my scarlet robes, The dew drops oer my chin.'
2 'If you are the lass that I lovd once, As I true you are not she, Come give me some of the tokens That past between you and me.'
3 'Ah wae be to you, Gregory, An ill death may you die! You will not be the death of one, But you'll be the death of three.
4 'Oh don't you mind, Lord Gregory, 'Twas down at yon burn-side We changd the ring of our fingers, And I put mine on thine?'
J
Motherwell's Note-Book, p. 12.
1 'O wha will shoe my pretty little foot? And wha will glove my hand? And who will lace my middle jimp Wi this lang London whang?
2 'And wha will comb my yellow, yellow hair, Wi this fine rispen kame? And wha will be my bairn's father, Till Lord Gregory come hame?'
K
Stenhouse's Johnson's Museum, IV, *107, communicated by Kirkpatrick Sharpe, "as generally sung by the people of Galloway and Dumfriesshire."
'O open the door, Love Gregory, O open, and let me in; The wind blows through my yellow hair, And the dew draps oer my chin.'
* * * * *
#A.#
8^2. kine.
11. His mother: _margin of the MS._
20. Mother: _margin_.
22. Lady.
23. Gregory: _margin_.
24. Mother: _margin_.
#B.#
1^3. who.
2^2, 4^2. _Herd prints_ Tabean birben.
12. His mother speaks to her from the house and she thinks it him: _margin of the MS._
14^1. has (?).
_15 _follows_ 17 in the MS._
16^3. _Herd prints_ maidenhead.
20. The son speaks: _margin_.
25^1. corp(?).
#C.#
_After 2._ Then Lord Gregory's mother answers, counterfeiting her son.
_After 4._ The mother, still counterfeiting her son, says.
_The old woman who sang the ballad, says Pitcairn_, murmured over these words as a sort of recitative, and then resumed the song, with a slight variation of voice.
#D.#
3^4. linnen; _probably a way of pronouncing_ London.
_Jamieson adopts several readings from_ #E# a, _besides making some slight alterations of his own, and inserts these two stanzas_, "from memory," _between 21 and 22_:
Tak down, tak down the mast o goud, Set up the mast o tree; Ill sets it a forsaken lady To sail sae gallantlie.
Tak down, tak down the sails o silk, Set up the sails o skin; Ill sets the outside to be gay Whan there's sic grief within.
_For the first of these see_ #B# 19.
#E. a.#
quha, ze, _etc._, _of the MS. are printed_ wha, ye, _etc._
#b.#
_Scott's version, described as composed from #B#, #E a#, #F#, and two recited copies, is rather #E a#, excepting 6^{3, 4} and 16, interpolated with six stanzas from #B#, five from #F#, and two lines from other sources, with a few verbal changes. It is, neglecting these verbal changes (also in part derived from #B#, #E a#, #F#), made up thus_:
1-5==#E a# 1-5; 6==#F# 3^1 + #F# 3^4 + _two lines from other sources_; 7-9==#F# 4-6; 10==#B# 10; 11==#F# 7; 12==#E a# 7; 13==#F# 8; 14-20==#E a# 8-14; 21==#B# 16; 22==#E a# 15; 23-25==#B# 15, 18, 19; 26==#E a# 17; 27==#B# 20; 28-38==#E a# 18-28; 39==#E a# 28^{1-3} + #B# 25^4.
_Scott has_ Lord Gregory _for_ Love Gregor, _or_ Love Gregory, _throughout, and_ Lochroyan _for_ Rough (Roch) Royal.
3^4. Till Lord Gregory come to land.
6^{3, 4}.
The sails were o the light-green silk, The tows o taffety.
24^{3, 4}. Fair Annie floated through the faem, But the babie raise no more.
#G.#
4^4. Ands lands: _Buchan prints_ In's.
6^2. For mony: _Buchan prints_ Thro mony.
12^4. fause reason: _Buchan prints_ fause lynin.
14^3. _Buchan prints_ or vile warlock.
#H.#
"I find myself quite unable to arrange the fragments of the 'Lass of Aughrim' in anything like decent symmetry. The idea that I have of the arrangement is that the Lass begins with a sort of soliloquy, lamenting her condition; that she sings this at the door of a castle, shut against her; that she hears Gregory's voice within, and then appeals to him for admittance; and then comes the dialogue between them.
"The [third] stanza, as I heard the thing sung, was repeated as a burden after all the succeeding stanzas, even when the Lad and not the Lass speaks; but I do not think it followed the [first two] stanzas; they were a sort of introduction." _Mr Mahon, December, 1884, May, 1885._
[125] Jamieson tells us, p. 44, that when a boy he had frequently heard the ballad chanted in Morayshire, and no mention was ever made of "fairy charms."
[126] #C# 3, 4 are evidently misplaced, and belong in that part of the story where #B# 8, 9 occur.
[127] Liebrecht has noted many of the above in his 'Volkskunde.' A man requires identification of a woman in a very ill preserved ballad in Motherwell's MS., p. 320.
77
SWEET WILLIAM'S GHOST
#A.# 'Sweet William's Ghost,' Ramsay's Tea Table Miscellany, "4th volume, 1740;" here from the London edition of 1763, p. 324.
#B.# Herd's MSS, I, 177, II, 49, stanzas 27 ff.
#C.# 'Marjorie and William,' Motherwell's MS., p. 262, 'William and Marjorie,' Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 186.
#D.# Dr Joseph Robertson's Note-Book, 'Adversaria,' p. 86.
#E.# 'Sweet William and May Margaret,' Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 241.
#F.# Jamieson's Popular Ballads, I, 83, stanzas 26 ff.
#G.# Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, III, 183, ed. 1833.
Ramsay's copy, #A#, was reprinted by Percy, Reliques, 1765, III, 128, and by Herd, 1769, p. 194, 1776, I, 76. Percy remarks that the concluding stanza seems modern. There can be no doubt that both that and the one before it are modern; but, to the extent of Margaret's dying on her lover's grave, they are very likely to represent original verses not remembered in form. #B# constitutes, in Herd's MSS, and #F#, in Jamieson's Popular Ballads, the termination of a copy of 'Clerk Saunders.' Scott appended the three stanzas given as #G# to the later edition of his _rifacimento_ of the copies of 'Clerk Saunders' in Herd's MSS, and says of them: "I am informed by the reciter that it was usual to separate from the rest that part of the ballad which follows the death of the lovers, as belonging to another story." The first part of #F# was evidently derived from 'Proud Lady Margaret,' No. 47.
Motherwell notes, Minstrelsy, p. lxiii, 6, that in recited copies he had heard this stanza repeated, "which does not occur in printed copies" (and can easily be spared), after #A# 14.[128]
My meikle tae is my gavil-post, My nose is my roof-tree, My ribs are kebars to my house, And there is nae room for thee.
The story of this ballad seems to have become disordered in most of the versions. #A# alone, the first published, has perhaps retained the original form. The principal idea is, however, preserved in all the full versions, #A-E#; the dead lover returns to ask back his unfulfilled troth-plight. His mistress, not knowing that he is dead, demands that he shall first come within her bower and kiss her, #A#, #B#, #C#. He answers that if he does this her days will not be long. She persists; he shall take her to kirk,[129] and wed her with a ring, #A#, #E#. He then tells her distinctly that he is dead, and she returns to him his faith and troth. She streaks her troth on a long wand and gives it to him through a window, #B#. In #A# she stretches out her white hand, "to do her best;" in #C# "takes up" her white hand, and strikes him on the breast; in #E# takes her white hand and smooths it on his breast; all of which are possibly corruptions of the ceremony performed in #B#. In #D# she takes a silver key and strikes him three times on the breast. She follows the dead till he comes to his grave, #A#, #B#, #C#, #D# (?) #F#, which is wrongly said in #A#, #E# to be far beyond the sea. She asks if there is room for her in his grave, and is told there is not, #A#, #F# [there is room, #B#, #D#]. She dies at his grave, #A#; is told that her days will not be long, #F#; in #G#, goes weeping away.
Margaret will not give William back his faith and troth, in #B#, #D#, #E#, unless he resolves certain questions about the state of the dead; what becomes of women that die in travail; where the women go who hang themselves for sin; where unbaptized children. Mere curiosity does not sort well with this very seriously conceived ballad, and these passages have probably grown out of a not unnatural inquiry on the part of Margaret as to her lover's personal state, extended in #E# 12 to "tell me the pleasures o heaven, and pains o hell how they be." The scene at the grave in #C# 11-13 may be judged grotesque, but is not trivial or unimpressive. These verses may be supposed not to have belonged to the earliest form of the ballad, and one does not miss them from #A#, but they cannot be an accretion of modern date.
Sir Walter Scott informs us, in the Advertisement to The Pirate, that the lady whose affections had been engaged by Goff, the historical prototype of Cleveland, "went up to London to see him before his death, and that, arriving too late, she had the courage to request a sight of his body; and then touching the hand of the corpse, she formally resumed the troth-plight which she had bestowed." "Without going through this ceremony," Scott goes on to say, "she could not, according to the superstition of the country, have escaped a visit from the ghost of her departed lover, in the event of her bestowing upon any living suitor the faith which she had plighted to the dead."[130]
'Sweet William's Ghost' has much in common with one of the most beautiful and celebrated of the Scandinavian ballads, and may well be a different development of the same story:
#Danish.# 'Fæstemanden i Graven' ('Aage og Else'), Grundtvig, No 90, II, 492-97, III, 870-74, #A# from a manuscript of the seventeenth century, #B# from about 1700, #C# from recent tradition. #Swedish.# 'Sorgens Magt,' #A#, #B#, Afzelius, No 6, I, 29, II, 204; #C#, Arwidsson, No 91, II, 103; #D#, Wigström, Skånska Visor, No 8, the same, Folkdiktning, I, 17, No 6, 'Den döde brudgummen:' all from recent tradition.
According to the oldest version, Danish #A#,[131] from which the others do not materially vary, a man dies just as he is to be married. His love grieves for him passionately. The dead hears her under the ground, comes to her bower with his coffin on his back, and knocks. She lets him in after he has proved himself to be "a spirit of health" by uttering the name of Jesus, combs his hair, and asks him how it is under the black earth (cf. English, #E# 12). It is like the bliss of heaven. May she follow him into his grave? It is like blackest hell. Every time she weeps for him his coffin is filled with lappered blood. But when she sings and is happy, his grave is all hung with rose-leaves. The cock crows, the white, the red, the black; he takes up his coffin and goes wearily back to the graveyard. His love follows through the mirk wood (so Swedish #A# 9, cf. English #B# 11), to the churchyard, and into the church. Then his yellow hair falls away, his rosy color wans. He bids her go home and never weep for him more. "Look up at the sky, the night is going;" and as she looks he slips into his grave. She goes sadly home, prays God that she may not live out a year and a day, falls sick, and dies within a month.
The Scandinavian ballad agrees in many particulars with the conclusion of the second lay of Helgi Hundingsbani in the older Edda. Helgi, having been slain by Sigrún's brother, is bitterly bewailed by Sigrún. He quits his barrow to come to her. Sigrún will kiss him, but his hair is thick with hoar-frost, he is drenched in blood, and how is this? These are the grim tears that Sigrún has shed, every one of which falls on his breast. Sigrún says she will sleep in his arms as though he were alive, and goes into the barrow with him. The end of the story is lost; according to a prose tradition which professes to supply the close, Sigrún soon died of grief. The source of the later ballads is perceptible here.
In the English ballad the dead lover returns of his own motion, simply to ask back his troth; in the Scandinavian, his betrothed grieves him out of his grave, "hon sörjer sin fästeman ur graf," and the object of his visit is to admonish her to restrain her tears, which prevent his happy repose. A fragmentary story with this turn, which perhaps may even have been a variety of 'Sweet William's Ghost,' will be found in the ballad which follows this.
In a somewhat popular German ballad, 'Der todte Freier,' a dead man comes to the window of his betrothed in the night and calls her. She does not recognize him; says he smells of the ground. He has been eight years in the ground, and that may be. He bids her summon father, mother, and friends, for her bridegroom has come. She is decked as for her wedding; at the first sound of the bell makes her will or receives the sacrament, and dies at the second.[132]
A young man goes to the grave of his betrothed and asks his love-tokens back; she refers him to her mother, and tells him she will join him in a year: Haupt u. Schmaler, I, 88, No 55. This returning of gifts by the dead is not an infrequent phenomenon: Čelakowský, I, 4, No 2==Wenzig, Slawische Volkslieder, p. 57, and III, 16, No 6; Beaurepaire, p. 53, Le Héricher, Lit. pop. de Normandie, p. 160 f; Briz y Candi, I, 140, Milá, Observaciones, p. 155, No 50, Milá, Romancerillo, pp 320-22, No 337, #D#, #E#, #A#^{11}, #B#^{11}.
* * * * *
#A# is translated by Grundtvig, Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, p. 34, No 4; by Herder, Book III, No 8; Bodmer, II, 36; Wackernagel, Altdeutsche Blätter, I, 189; Döring, p. 391; Knortz, Lieder u. Romanzen Alt-Englands, p. 86, No 23; von Marées, p. 24. #C# by Grundtvig, p. 319, No 90; Wolff, Halle der Völker, I, 30, Hausschatz, p. 205; Knortz, as above, p. 179, No 49. A compound of #D#, #C#, #A#, by Rosa Warrens, Schottische Volkslieder, p. 53, No 12.
A
Ramsay's Tea Table Miscellany, "4th volume, 1740;" here from the London edition of 1763, p. 324.
1 There came a ghost to Margret's door, With many a grievous groan, And ay he tirled at the pin, But answer made she none.
2 'Is that my father Philip, Or is't my brother John? Or is't my true-love, Willy, From Scotland new come home?'
3 ''Tis not thy father Philip, Nor yet thy brother John; But 'tis thy true-love, Willy, From Scotland new come home.
4 'O sweet Margret, O dear Margret, I pray thee speak to me; Give me my faith and troth, Margret, As I gave it to thee.'
5 'Thy faith and troth thou's never get, Nor yet will I thee lend, Till that thou come within my bower, And kiss my cheek and chin.'
6 'If I shoud come within thy bower, I am no earthly man; And shoud I kiss thy rosy lips, Thy days will not be lang.
7 'O sweet Margret, O dear Margret, I pray thee speak to me; Give me my faith and troth, Margret, As I gave it to thee.'
8 'Thy faith and troth thou's never get, Nor yet will I thee lend, Till you take me to yon kirk, And wed me with a ring.'
9 'My bones are buried in yon kirk-yard, Afar beyond the sea, And it is but my spirit, Margret, That's now speaking to thee.'
10 She stretchd out her lilly-white hand, And, for to do her best, 'Hae, there's your faith and troth, Willy, God send your soul good rest.'
11 Now she has kilted her robes of green A piece below her knee, And a' the live-lang winter night The dead corp followed she.
12 'Is there any room at your head, Willy? Or any room at your feet? Or any room at your side, Willy, Wherein that I may creep?'
13 'There's no room at my head, Margret, There's no room at my feet; There's no room at my side, Margret, My coffin's made so meet.'
14 Then up and crew the red, red cock, And up then crew the gray: 'Tis time, tis time, my dear Margret, That you were going away.'
15 No more the ghost to Margret said, But, with a grievous groan, Evanishd in a cloud of mist, And left her all alone.
16 'O stay, my only true-love, stay,' The constant Margret cry'd; Wan grew her cheeks, she closd her een, Stretchd her soft limbs, and dy'd.
B
Herd's MSS, I, 177, II, 49, stanzas 27 ff.
1 Whan bells war rung, an mass was sung, A wat a' man to bed were gone, Clark Sanders came to Margret's window, With mony a sad sigh and groan.
2 'Are ye sleeping, Margret,' he says, 'Or are ye waking, presentlie? Give me my faith and trouthe again, A wat, trew-love, I gied to thee.'
3 'Your faith and trouth ye's never get, Nor our trew love shall never twain, Till ye come with me in my bower, And kiss me both cheek and chin.'
4 'My mouth it is full cold, Margret, It has the smell now of the ground; And if I kiss thy comely mouth, Thy life-days will not be long.
5 'Cocks are crowing a merry mid-larf, I wat the wild fule boded day; Gie me my faith and trouthe again, And let me fare me on my way.'
6 'Thy faith and trouth thou shall na get, Nor our trew love shall never twin, Till ye tell me what comes of women Awat that dy's in strong traveling.'
7 'Their beds are made in the heavens high, Down at the foot of our good Lord's knee, Well set about wi gilly-flowers, A wat sweet company for to see.
8 'O cocks are crowing a merry midd-larf, A wat the wilde foule boded day; The salms of Heaven will be sung, And ere now I'le be misst away.'
9 Up she has tain a bright long wand, And she has straked her trouth thereon; She has given [it] him out at the shot-window, Wi many a sad sigh and heavy groan.
10 'I thank you, Margret, I thank you, Margret, And I thank you hartilie; Gine ever the dead come for the quick, Be sure, Margret, I'll come again for thee.'
11 It's hose an shoon an gound alane She clame the wall and followed him, Untill she came to a green forest, On this she lost the sight of him.
12 'Is their any room at your head, Sanders? Is their any room at your feet? Or any room at your twa sides? Whare fain, fain woud I sleep.'
13 'Their is na room at my head, Margret, Their is na room at my feet; There is room at my twa sides, For ladys for to sleep.
14 'Cold meal is my covering owre, But an my winding sheet; My bed it is full low, I say, Down among the hongerey worms I sleep.
15 'Cold meal is my covering owre, But an my winding sheet; The dew it falls na sooner down Then ay it is full weet.'
C
Motherwell's MS., p. 262, Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 186, from the recitation of Mrs McCormick, and learned by her in Dumbarton, from an old woman, thirty years before: January 19, 1825.
1 Lady Marjorie, Lady Marjorie, Sat sewing her silken seam; By her came a pale, pale ghost, With many a sich and mane.
2 'Are ye my father, the king?' she says, 'Or are ye my brother John? Or are you my true-love, Sweet William, From England newly come?'
3 'I'm not your father, the king,' he says, 'No, no, nor your brother John; But I'm your true love, Sweet William, From England that's newly come.'
4 'Have ye brought me any scarlets so red? Or any silks so fine? Or have ye brought me any precious things, That merchants have for sale?'
5 'I have not brought you any scarlets sae red, No, no, nor the silks so fine; But I have brought you my winding-sheet, Oer many's the rock and hill.
6 'O Lady Marjory, Lady Marjory, For faith and charitie, Will you give to me my faith and troth, That I gave once to thee?'
7 'O your faith and troth I'll not give thee, No, no, that will not I, Until I get one kiss of your ruby lips, And in my arms you come [lye].'
8 'My lips they are so bitter,' he says, 'My breath it is so strong, If you get one kiss of my ruby lips, Your days will not be long.
9 'The cocks they are crowing, Marjory,' he says, 'The cocks they are crawing again; It's time the deid should part the quick, Marjorie, I must be gane.'
10 She followed him high, she followed him low, Till she came to yon church-yard; O there the grave did open up, And young William he lay down.
11 'What three things are these, Sweet William,' she says, 'That stands here at your head?' 'It's three maidens, Marjorie,' he says, 'That I promised once to wed.'
12 'What three things are these, Sweet William,' she says, 'That stands here at your side?' 'It is three babes, Marjorie,' he says, 'That these three maidens had.'
13 'What three things are these, Sweet William,' she says, 'That stands here at your feet?' 'It is three hell-hounds, Marjorie,' he says, 'That's waiting my soul to keep.'
14 She took up her white, white hand, And she struck him in the breast, Saying, Have there again your faith and troth, And I wish your soul good rest.
D
From tradition: Dr Joseph Robertson's Note-Book, "Adversaria," p. 86.
1 Lady Margaret was in her wearie room, Sewin her silken seam, And in cam Willie, her true-love, Frae Lundin new come hame.
2 'O are ye my father Philip, Or are ye my brither John? Or are ye my true-love, Willie, Frae London new come home?'
3 'I'm nae your father Philip, Nor am I your brother John; But I am your true-love, Willie, An I'm nae a levin man.
4 'But gie me my faith and troth, Margrat, An let me pass on my way; For the bells o heaven will be rung, An I'll be mist away.'
5 'Yere faith and troth ye'se never get, Till ye tell me this ane; Till ye tell me where the women go That hang themsell for sin.'
6 'O they gang till the low, low hell, Just by the devil's knee; It's a' clad ower wi burnin pitch, A dreadfu sicht to see.'
7 'But your faith and troth ye'se never get, Till you tell me again; Till you tell me where the children go That die without a name.'
8 'O they gang till the high, high heaven, Just by our Saviour's knee, An it's a' clad ower wi roses red, A lovelie sicht to see.
9 'But gie me my faith and troth, Margrat, And let me pass on my way; For the psalms o heaven will be sung, An I'll be mist away.'
10 'But your faith and troth yese never get Till ye tell me again; Till ye tell me where the women go That die in child-beddin.'
11 'O they gang till the hie, hie heaven, Just by our Saviour's knee, And every day at twal o clock They're dipped oer the head.
12 'But gie me my faith and troth, Margret, And let me pass on my way; For the gates o heaven will be shut, And I'll be mist away.'
13 Then she has taen a silver key, Gien him three times on the breast; Says, There's your faith and troth, Willie, I hope your soul will rest.
14 'But is there room at your head, Willie? Or is there room at your feet? Or is there room at any o your sides, To let in a lover sweet?'
15 'There is nae room at my head, Margrat, There's nae room at my feet, But there is room at baith my sides, To lat in a lover sweet.'
E
Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 241.
1 As May Margret sat in her bouerie, In her bouer all alone, At the very parting o midnicht She heard a mournfu moan.
2 'O is it my father? O is it my mother? Or is it my brother John? Or is it Sweet William, my ain true-love, To Scotland new come home?'
3 'It is na your father, it is na your mother, It is na your brother John; But it is Sweet William, your ain true-love, To Scotland new come home.'
4 'Hae ye brought me onie fine things, Onie new thing for to wear? Or hae ye brought me a braid o lace, To snood up my gowden hair?'
5 'I've brought ye na fine things at all, Nor onie new thing to wear, Nor hae I brought ye a braid of lace, To snood up your gowden hair.
6 'But Margaret, dear Margaret, I pray ye speak to me; O gie me back my faith and troth, As dear as I gied it thee.'
7 'Your faith and troth ye sanna get, Nor will I wi ye twin, Till ye come within my bouer, And kiss me, cheek and chin.'
8 'O should I come within your bouer, I am na earthly man; If I should kiss your red, red lips, Your days wad na be lang.
9 'O Margaret, dear Margaret, I pray ye speak to me; O gie me back my faith and troth, As dear as I gied it thee.'
10 'Your faith and troth ye sanna get, Nor will I wi ye twin, Till ye tak me to yonder kirk, And wed me wi a ring.'
11 'My banes are buried in yon kirk-yard, It's far ayont the sea; And it is my spirit, Margaret, That's speaking unto thee.'
12 'Your faith and troth ye sanna get, Nor will I twin wi thee, Till ye tell me the pleasures o heaven, And pains of hell how they be.'
13 'The pleasures of heaven I wat not of, But the pains of hell I dree; There some are hie hangd for huring, And some for adulterie.'
14 Then Margret took her milk-white hand, And smoothd it on his breast: 'Tak your faith and troth, William, God send your soul good rest!'
F
Jamieson's Popular Ballads, I, 83, stanzas 26 ff.
1 When seven years were come and gane, Lady Margaret she thought lang; And she is up to the hichest tower, By the lee licht o the moon.
2 She was lookin oer her castle high, To see what she might fa, And there she saw a grieved ghost, Comin waukin oer the wa.
3 'O are ye a man of mean,' she says, 'Seekin ony o my meat? Or are you a rank robber, Come in my bower to break?'
4 'O I'm Clerk Saunders, your true-love, Behold, Margaret, and see, And mind, for a' your meikle pride, Sae will become of thee.'
5 'Gin ye be Clerk Saunders, my true-love, This meikle marvels me; O wherein is your bonny arms, That wont to embrace me?'
6 'By worms they're eaten, in mools they're rotten, Behold, Margaret, and see, And mind, for a' your mickle pride, Sae will become o thee.'
* * * * * * *
7 O, bonny, bonny sang the bird, Sat on the coil o hay; But dowie, dowie was the maid That followd the corpse o clay.
8 'Is there ony room at your head, Saunders? Is there ony room at your feet? Is there ony room at your twa sides, For a lady to lie and sleep?'
9 'There is nae room at my head, Margaret, As little at my feet; There is nae room at my twa sides, For a lady to lie and sleep.
10 'But gae hame, gae hame now, May Margaret, Gae hame and sew your seam; For if ye were laid in your weel made bed, Your days will nae be lang.'
G
Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, III, 183, ed. 1833, the last three stanzas.
* * * * * * *
1 'But plait a wand o bonny birk, And lay it on my breast, And shed a tear upon my grave, And wish my saul gude rest.
2 'And fair Margret, and rare Margret, And Margret o veritie, Gin eer ye love another man, Neer love him as ye did me.'
3 Then up and crew the milk-white cock, And up and crew the grey; The lover vanishd in the air, And she gaed weeping away.
* * * * *
#A.#
8^3. yon kirk-yard.
#B.#
1^2, _~And every one~ is substituted for ~A wat a' man~, no doubt by a reviser._
1^4, 9^4. grown.
5^1, 8^1. _~mid larf~, ~midd larf~ I retain, though I do not understand ~larf~._
9^2. _~on it~ struck out at the end of the line, and ~thereon~ written over. Qy ~it on~?_
14^4. _A line is drawn through ~Down~ and ~the~._
15^1. _~is my bed~, written after ~weet~, is struck out._
_The copy in Herd's second volume is a transcript of the other, and its variations have no apparent authority._
#C.#
7^4. _MS. ~come (lye)~._
9^4. _~away~ written over ~be gane~._
10^2. _Motherwell prints ~churchyard green~._
14^1. _~white~ thrice._
_Motherwell makes not a few slight changes in printing._
#D.#
15^1. at my head, Willie.
#E.#
_8 follows 10 in Kinloch._
[128] Motherwell probably meant 13.
[129] So #E# 10; #A# 9 has, in Ramsay, kirk-yard, which obviously requires to be corrected.
[130] In a note in the Kinloch MSS, VII, 277, Kinloch says that Sir Walter Scott told him that he had received this story from an old woman in Shetland.
[131] The ballad has been often translated, mostly after the compounded form in the Danske Viser, No 29: Prior, III, 76 (Danish #A#), 81; "London Magazine, 1820, I, 152;" Borrow, Foreign Quarterly Review, 1830, VI, 62, and p. 47 of his Romantic Ballads; Buchanan, p. 112.
[132] Hoffmann von Fallersleben in Deutsches Museum, 1852, II, 162==Erk's Wunderhorn, IV, 73, and Liederhort, p. 75, No 24^a, Mittler, No 545; Wagner in Deutsches Museum, 1862, II, 802, 803; Liederhort, No 24, p. 74; Ditfurth, II, 1, No 2; Meier, p. 355, No 201; Peter, I, 199, No 14; A. Müller, p. 95; Meinert, p. 3==Erlach, IV, 196, Erk's Wunderhorn, IV, 74, Liederhort, p. 76, No 24^b, Zuccalmaglio, p. 130, No 60, Mittler, No 544; Schleicher, Volkstümliches aus Sonneberg, p. 112, No 22.
78
THE UNQUIET GRAVE
#A.# 'The Unquiet Grave,' Folk-Lore Record, I, 60, 1868.
#B.# Notes and Queries, Fifth Series, VII, 486.
#C.# Notes and Queries, Fifth Series, VII, 387.
#D.# 'The Ghost and Sailor,' Buchan's MSS, I, 268.
The vow in the second stanza of all the copies is such as we find in 'Bonny Bee-Ho'm,' and elsewhere (see p. 156f of this volume), and #A#, #B#, #D# 4, 5, #C# 3, 4 are nearly a repetition of 'Sweet William's Ghost,' #A# 5, 6, #B# 3, 4, #C# 7, 8, #D# 7, 10. This may suggest a suspicion that this brief little piece is an aggregation of scraps. But these repetitions would not strike so much if the ballad were longer, and we must suppose that we have it only in an imperfect form. Even such as it is, however, this fragment has a character of its own. It exhibits the universal popular belief that excessive grieving for the dead interferes with their repose. We have all but had 'The Unquiet Grave' before, as the conclusion of two versions of 'The Twa Brothers:'
She ran distraught, she wept, she sicht, She wept the sma brids frae the tree, She wept the starns adown frae the lift, She wept the fish out o the sea.
'O cease your weeping, my ain true-love, Ye but disturb my rest;' 'Is that my ain true lover, John, The man that I loe best?'
''Tis naething but my ghaist,' he said, 'That's sent to comfort thee; O cease your weeping, my true-love, And 'twill gie peace to me.'
(I, 440, #C# 18-20.)
She put the small pipes to her mouth, And she harped both far and near, Till she harped the small birds off the briers, And her true-love out of the grave.
'What's this? what's this, Lady Margaret?' he says, 'What's this you want of me?' 'One sweet kiss of your ruby lips, That's all I want of thee.'
'My lips they are so bitter,' he says, 'My breath it is so strong, If you get one kiss of my ruby lips, Your days will not be long.'
(I, 439, #B# 10-12.)
Sir Walter Scott has remarked that the belief that excessive grieving over lost friends destroyed their peace was general throughout Scotland: Redgauntlet, Note 2 to Letter XI. See also Gregor's Notes on the Folk-Lore of the North-East of Scotland, p. 69. We have recent testimony that this belief survives in England (1868), Folk Lore Record, I, 60. It was held in Ireland that inordinate tears would pierce a hole in the dead: Killinger, Erin, VI, 65, 449 (quoting a writer that I have not identified).
The common notion is that tears wet the shroud or grave-clothes. Scott relates a story of a Highlander who was constrained to come back and say to a kinswoman: My rest is disturbed by your unnecessary lamentation; your tears scald me in my shroud.
Mrs Grant of Laggan tells a similar story. An only sister had lost an only brother. Night after night she sat up, weeping incessantly and calling upon his name. At length her brother appeared to her in his shroud, and seemed wet and shivering. "Why," said he, "am I disturbed with the extravagance of thy sorrow? Till thou art humble and penitent for this rebellion against the decrees of Providence, every tear thou sheddest falls on this dark shroud without drying, and every night thy tears still more chill and encumber me." Essays on the Superstitions of the Highlanders of Scotland, ed. New York, 1813, p. 95 f.
A dead boy appears to his mother, and begs her to cease weeping, for all her tears fall upon his shirt and wet it so that he cannot sleep. The mother gives heed, her child comes again and says, Now my shirt is dry, and I have peace. Grimms, K. u. H. märchen, No 109.
In another form of this tradition a child has to carry all its mother's tears in a large pitcher, and cannot keep up with a happy little band to which it would belong, 'Die Macht der Thränen,' Erk, Neue Sammlung, III, I, No 35==Wunderhorn, IV, 95, Liederhort, p. 8, No 3, Mittler, No 557; Hoffmann u. Richter, p. 341, No 290; Börner, Volkssagen aus dem Orlagau, pp 142, 152; or lags behind because its clothes are heavy with these tears, Geiler von Kaisersberg's Trostspiegel, 1510, cited by Rochholz in Wolf's Zeitschrift für deutsche Mythologie, II, 252; Thomas Cantipratensis, Bonum Universale, "l. ii, c. 53, § 17," about 1250; or the child collects its mother's tears in its hands, Müllenhoff, No 196.
A wife's tears wet her dead husband's shirt in the German ballad 'Der Vorwirth:' Meinert, p. 13==Erk's Wunderhorn, IV, 96, Erk's Liederhort, p. 160, No 46^a, Mittler, No 555; Hoffmann in Deutsches Museum, 1852, II, 161==Wunderhorn, IV, 98, Liederhort, p. 158, No 46, Mittler, No 556; Peter, I, 200, No 15.
Saint Johannes Eleemosynarius and a couple of his bishops are fain to rise from their graves because their stoles are wet through with a woman's tears, Legenda Aurea, c. 27, § 12, Grässe, p. 132, last half of the thirteenth century (cited by Liebrecht); and Saint Vicelin, because his robes are drenched with the tears of his friend Eppo, Helmold, Chronica Slavorum, l. i, 78, p. 15, ed. Lappenberg, last half of the twelfth century (cited by Müllenhoff).
Sigrún weeps bitter tears for Helgi's death every night ere she sleeps. The hero comes out of his mound to comfort her, but also to tell her how she discommodes him. He is otherwise well off, but every drop pierces, cold and bloody, to his breast: Helgakviða Hundingsbana II, 45. So in some of the ballads which apparently derive from this lay, the tears of Else or Kerstin fill her lover's coffin with blood: Grundtvig, II, 495, 497, No 90, #A# 17, #B# 8; Afzelius, I, 31, No 6, st. 14, Wigström, Folkdiktning, I, 18, st. 9.
Almost the very words of the Highland apparition in Scott's tale are used by an Indian sage to a king who is inconsolable for the loss of his wife; "the incessant tears of kinsfolk burn the dead, so it is said:" Kâlidâsas, Raghuvansa, VIII, 85, ed. Stenzler, p. 61 of his translation. Another representation is that the dead have to swallow the rheum and tears of their mourning relations, and therefore weeping must be abstained from: Yâjnavalkya's Gesetzbuch, Sanskrit u. Deutsch, Stenzler, III, 11, p. 89.
The ancient Persians also held that immoderate grief on the part of survivors was detrimental to the happiness of the dead. Weeping for the departed is forbidden, because the water so shed forms an impediment before the bridge Tchînavar (over which souls pass to heaven). Sad-der, Porta XCVII, Hyde, Veterum Persarum et Parthorum Religionis Historia, p. 486, ed. Oxford, 1700. Again, Ardai Viraf, seeing a deep and fetid river, which is carrying away a multitude of souls in all the agony of drowning, and asking what this is, is told: The river that you see before you is composed of the tears of mankind, tears shed, against the express command of the Almighty, for the departed; therefore, when you return again to the earth inculcate this to mankind, that to grieve immoderately is in the sight of God a most heinous sin; and the river is constantly increased by this folly, every tear making the poor wretches who float on it more distant from ease and relief. The Ardai Viraf Nameh, translated from the Persian, by J. A. Pope, London, 1816, p. 53 f.[133]
The Greeks and Romans also reprehend obstinate condolement as troubling the dead, and perhaps, if we had the popular views on the subject, these might be found to have taken an expression like some of the above. In Lucian De Luctu, c. 16, the ghost of a son who had died in the bloom of youth is made to reproach the disconsolate father in these words: ω κακοδαιμον ανθρωπε, τι κεκραγας; τι δε μοι παρεχεις πραγματα;[134]
See, also, Maurer, Isländische Volkssagen, p. 312 f, No 9; Luzel, I, 65, 'La jeune fille et l'âme de sa mère;' Karadshitch, I, 272, No 368, Talvj, I, 84, ed. 1853; Kapper, Gesänge der Serben, II, 116; Nibelungen, 2302, ed. Bartsch; Blaas, in Germania, XXV, 429, No 34; Grimm, Deutsche Mythologie, III, 447, No 397; Müllenhoff, No 195; Wunderhorn, IV, 94, last stanza; Wolf, Beiträge zur deutschen Mythologie, I, 215, No 149.
A
Communicated to the Folk Lore Record, I, 60, by Miss Charlotte Latham, as written down from the lips of a girl in Sussex.
1 'The wind doth blow today, my love, And a few small drops of rain; I never had but one true-love, In cold grave she was lain.
2 'I'll do as much for my true-love As any young man may; I'll sit and mourn all at her grave For a twelvemonth and a day.'
3 The twelvemonth and a day being up, The dead began to speak: 'Oh who sits weeping on my grave, And will not let me sleep?'
4 ''Tis I, my love, sits on your grave, And will not let you sleep; For I crave one kiss of your clay-cold lips, And that is all I seek.'
5 'You crave one kiss of my clay-cold lips; But my breath smells earthy strong; If you have one kiss of my clay-cold lips, Your time will not be long.
6 ''Tis down in yonder garden green, Love, where we used to walk, The finest flower that ere was seen Is withered to a stalk.
7 'The stalk is withered dry, my love, So will our hearts decay; So make yourself content, my love, Till God calls you away.'
B
Notes and Queries, Fifth Series, VII, 436, cited by W. R. S. R., from the Ipswich Journal, 1877: from memory, after more than seventy years.
1 'How cold the wind do blow, dear love, And see the drops of rain! I never had but one true-love, In the green wood he was slain.
2 'I would do as much for my own true-love As in my power doth lay; I would sit and mourn all on his grave For a twelvemonth and a day.'
3 A twelvemonth and a day being past, His ghost did rise and speak: 'What makes you mourn all on my grave? For you will not let me sleep.'
4 'It is not your gold I want, dear love, Nor yet your wealth I crave; But one kiss from your lily-white lips Is all I wish to have.
5 'Your lips are cold as clay, dear love, Your breath doth smell so strong;' 'I am afraid, my pretty, pretty maid, Your time will not be long.'
C
"From a yeoman in Suffolk, who got it from his nurse;" B. Montgomerie Ranking, in Notes and Queries, Fifth Series, VII, 387.
1 'Cold blows the wind oer my true-love, Cold blow the drops of rain; I never, never had but one sweetheart, In the greenwood he was slain.
2 'I did as much for my true-love As ever did any maid; . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
* * * * * * *
3 'One kiss from your lily-cold lips, true-love, One kiss is all I pray, And I'll sit and weep all over your grave For a twelvemonth and a day.'
4 'My cheek is as cold as the clay, true-love, My breath is earthy and strong; And if I should kiss your lips, true-love, Your life would not be long.'
D
Buchan's MSS, I, 268.
1 'Proud Boreas makes a hideous noise, Loud roars the fatal fleed; I loved never a love but one, In church-yard she lies dead.
2 'But I will do for my love's sake What other young men may; I'll sit and mourn upon her grave, A twelvemonth and a day.'
3 A twelvemonth and a day being past, The ghost began to speak: 'Why sit ye here upon my grave, And will not let me sleep?'
4 'One kiss of your lily-white lips Is all that I do crave; And one kiss of your lily-white lips Is all that I would have.'
5 'Your breath is as the roses sweet, Mine as the sulphur strong; If you get one kiss of my lips, Your days would not be long.
6 'Mind not ye the day, Willie, Sin you and I did walk? The firstand flower that we did pu Was witherd on the stalk.'
7 'Flowers will fade and die, my dear, Aye as the tears will turn; And since I've lost my own sweet-heart, I'll never cease but mourn.'
8 'Lament nae mair for me, my love, The powers we must obey; But hoist up one sail to the wind, Your ship must sail away.'
[133] Rochholz has cited the Raghuvansa in Deutscher Unsterblichkeits Glaube, p. 208; the other oriental citations are made by Kuhn, Wolf's Zeitschrift für deutsche Mythologie, I, 62 f.
[134] Schenkl, in Germania, XI, 451 f; who also cites Tibullus, I, 1, 67, Propertius, IV, 11, 1, and inscriptions, as Gruter, p. 1127, 8.
79
THE WIFE OF USHER'S WELL
#A.# 'The Wife of Usher's Well,' Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, II, 111, ed. 1802.
#B.# 'The Clerk's Twa Sons o Owsenford,' stanzas 18-23, Kinloch MSS, V, 403.
#B# forms the conclusion, as already said, to a beautiful copy of 'The Clerk's Twa Sons o Owsenford,' recited by the grandmother of Robert Chambers.
A motive for the return of the wife's three sons is not found in the fragments which remain to us. The mother had cursed the sea when she first heard they were lost, and can only go mad when she finds that after all she has not recovered them; nor will a little wee while, #B# 5, make any difference. There is no indication that the sons come back to forbid obstinate grief, as the dead often do. But supplying a motive would add nothing to the impressiveness of these verses. Nothing that we have is more profoundly affecting.
* * * * *
#A# is translated by Grundtvig, Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, No 14; by Freiligrath, Zwischen den Garben, II, 227, ed. Stuttgart, 1877; by Doenniges, p. 61; by Rosa Warrens, Schottische Volkslieder, No 9, with insertion of #B# 5, 6; and by Knortz, Lieder und Romanzen Alt-Englands, p. 227, after Allingham.
A
Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, II, 111, 1802, from the recitation of an old woman residing near Kirkhill, in West Lothian.
1 There lived a wife at Usher's Well, And a wealthy wife was she; She had three stout and stalwart sons, And sent them oer the sea.
2 They hadna been a week from her, A week but barely ane, Whan word came to the carline wife That her three sons were gane.
3 They hadna been a week from her, A week but barely three, Whan word came to the carlin wife That her sons she'd never see.
4 'I wish the wind may never cease, Nor fashes in the flood, Till my three sons come hame to me, In earthly flesh and blood.'
5 It fell about the Martinmass, When nights are lang and mirk, The carlin wife's three sons came hame, And their hats were o the birk.
6 It neither grew in syke nor ditch, Nor yet in ony sheugh; But at the gates o Paradise, That birk grew fair eneugh.
* * * * * * *
7 'Blow up the fire, my maidens, Bring water from the well; For a' my house shall feast this night, Since my three sons are well.'
8 And she has made to them a bed, She's made it large and wide, And she's taen her mantle her about, Sat down at the bed-side.
* * * * * * *
9 Up then crew the red, red cock, And up and crew the gray; The eldest to the youngest said, 'Tis time we were away.
10 The cock he hadna crawd but once, And clappd his wings at a', When the youngest to the eldest said, Brother, we must awa.
11 'The cock doth craw, the day doth daw, The channerin worm doth chide; Gin we be mist out o our place, A sair pain we maun bide.
12 'Fare ye weel, my mother dear! Fareweel to barn and byre! And fare ye weel, the bonny lass That kindles my mother's fire!'
B
Kinloch MSS, V, 403, stanzas 18-23. In the handwriting of James Chambers, as sung to his maternal grandmother, Janet Grieve, seventy years before, by an old woman, a Miss Ann Gray, of the Neidpath Castle, Peeblesshire: January 1, 1829.
1 The hallow days o Yule are come, The nights are lang an dark, An in an cam her ain twa sons, Wi their hats made o the bark.
2 'O eat an drink, my merry men a', The better shall ye fare, For my twa sons the are come hame To me for evermair.'
3 She has gaen an made their bed, An she's made it saft an fine, An she's happit them wi her gay mantel, Because they were her ain.
4 O the young cock crew i the merry Linkem, An the wild fowl chirpd for day; The aulder to the younger did say, Dear brother, we maun away.
5 'Lie still, lie still a little wee while, Lie still but if we may; For gin my mother miss us away She'll gae mad or it be day.'
6 O it's they've taen up their mother's mantel, An they've hangd it on the pin: 'O lang may ye hing, my mother's mantel, Or ye hap us again!'
* * * * *
#A.#
4^2. fishes. _The correction is suggested in ed. 1833 of the Border Minstrelsy. Aytoun reads ~freshes~._
80
OLD ROBIN OF PORTINGALE
Percy MS., p. 90; Hales and Furnivall, I, 235.
This fine ballad was printed in the Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, III, 48, ed. of 1765, "with considerable corrections." The information given by a page, the reward promised and the alternative punishment threatened him, the savage vengeance taken on the lady and the immediate remorse, are repeated in 'Little Musgrave,' No 81. So the "Sleep you, wake you" of 4^1, a frequent formula for such occasions,[135] which we find in 'Earl Brand,' No 7, #D# 1, 'King Arthur and King Cornwall,' No 30, st. 49^3; 'Clerk Saunders,' No 69, #F# 4; 'Willie and Lady Maisry,' No 70, #B# 2, 11; 'The Bent sae Brown,' No 71, st. 5; 'Lord Thomas and Fair Annet,' No 73, #E# 5; 'Sweet William's Ghost,' No 77, #B# 2; 'Jellon Grame,' #A# 4; 'The Drowned Lovers,' Buchan, I, 140, st. 11; 'Jock o the Side,' Caw's Museum, st. 16; 'Kinmont Willie,' Scott, st. 35; 'The Baron of Brackley,' Scarce Ancient Ballads, st. 2; the song or ballad in 'King Lear,' III, 6, 40; Ravenscroft's Pammelia, 1609, No 30; the interlude of 'The Four Elements' (Steevens); Íslenzk Fornkvæði, II, 115, st. 26, 27; 'Der todte Freier,' Erk's Liederhort, p. 75, No 24^a, Deutsches Museum, 1852, II, 167==Mittler No 545, Wunderhorn, IV, 73, etc., and Deutsches Museum, 1862, II, 803, No 10; Ampère, Instructions, p. 36; Coussemaker, No 48, st. 5; Kolberg, Pieśni ludu Polskiego, No 7e, st. 8; etc.
Old Robin, instead of attaching a cross of red cloth to the right shoulder of his coat or cloak, shapes the cross _in_ his shoulder "of white flesh and of red," st. 32; that is, burns the cross in with a hot iron, as was done sometimes by the unusually devout or superstitious, or for a pious fraud: Mabillon, Annales, ad annum 1095, cited by Michaud, Histoire des Croisades, I, 110, note, ed. 1825.
* * * * *
Translated by Bodmer, I, 153; by Knortz, Lieder und Romanzen Alt-Englands, No 66.
* * * * *
1 God let neuer soe old a man Marry soe yonge a wiffe As did Old Robin of Portingale; He may rue all the dayes of his liffe.
2 Ffor the maiors daughter of Lin, God wott, He chose her to his wife, And thought to haue liued in quiettnesse W_i_th her all the dayes of his liffe.
3 They had not in their wed-bed laid, Scarcly were both on sleepe, But vpp shee rose, and forth shee goes To S_i_r Gyles, and fast can weepe.
4 Saies, Sleepe you, wake you, faire S_i_r Gyles? Or be not you w_i_thin? . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
5 'But I am waking, sweete,' he said, 'Lady, what is yo_u_r will?' 'I haue vnbethought me of a wile, How my wed lord we shall spill.
6 'Four and twenty knights,' she sayes, '_Tha_t dwells about this towne, Eene four and twenty of my next cozens, Will helpe to dinge him downe.'
7 W_i_th _tha_t beheard his litle foote-page, As he was watering his m_aste_rs steed; Soe s ... His verry heart did bleed.
8 He mourned, sikt, and wept full sore; I sweare by the holy roode, The teares he for his master wept Were blend water and bloude.
9 W_i_th _tha_t beheard his deare m_aster_, As [he] in his garden sate; Says, Euer alacke, my litle page, What causes thee to weepe?
10 'Hath any one done to thee wronge, Any of thy fellowes here? Or is any of thy good friends dead, W_hi_ch makes thee shed such teares?
11 'Or if it be my head-kookes-man, Greiued againe he shalbe, Nor noe man w_i_thin my howse Shall doe wrong vnto thee.'
12 'But it is not yo_u_r head-kookes-man, Nor none of his degree; But [f]or to morrow, ere it be noone, You are deemed to die.
13 'And of that thanke yo_u_r head-steward, And after, yo_u_r gay ladie:' 'If it be true, my litle foote-page, Ile make thee heyre of all my land.'
14 'If it be not true, my deare m_aste_r, God let me neuer thye:' 'If it be not true, thou litle foot-page, A dead corse shalt thou be.'
15 He called downe his head-kookes-man, Cooke in kitchen sup_er_ to dresse: 'All and anon, my deare m_aster_, Anon att yo_u_r request.'
16 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 'And call you downe my faire lady, This night to supp w_i_th mee.'
17 A_n_d downe then came _tha_t fayre lady, Was cladd all in purple and palle; The rings _tha_t were vpon her fingers Cast light thorrow the hall.
18 'What is yo_u_r will, my owne wed lo_rd_, What is yo_u_r will w_i_th mee?' 'I am sicke, fayre lady, Sore sicke, and like to dye.'
19 'But and you be sicke, my owne wed lo_rd_, Soe sore it greiueth mee; But my fiue maydens and my selfe Will goe and make yo_u_r bedd.
20 '_An_d at the wakening of yo_u_r first sleepe You shall haue a hott drinke made, And at the wakening of yo_u_r next sleepe Yo_u_r sorrowes will haue a slake.'
21 He put a silke cote on his backe, Was thirteen inches folde, And put a steele cap vpon his head, Was gilded w_i_th good red gold.
22 An_d_ he layd a bright browne sword by his side, And another att his ffeete, And full well knew Old Robin then Whether he shold wake or sleepe.
23 And about the middle time of the night Came twenty four good knights in; S_i_r Gyles he was the formost man, Soe well he knew _tha_t ginne.
24 Old Robin, w_i_th a bright browne sword, S_i_r Gyles head he did winne; Soe did he all those twenty four, Neu_er_ a one went quicke out [agen].
25 None but one litle foot-page, Crept forth at a window of stone, And he had two armes when he came in, And [when he went out he had none].
26 Vpp then came _tha_t ladie light, W_i_th torches burning bright; Shee thought to haue brought S_i_r Gyles a drinke, But shee found her owne wedd k_nigh_t.
27 And the first thinge _tha_t this ladye stumbled vpon Was of S_i_r Gyles his ffoote; Sayes, Euer alacke, and woe is me, Here lyes my sweete hart-roote!
28 And the _secon_d thing _tha_t this ladie stumbled on Was of S_i_r Gyles his head; Sayes, Euer alacke, and woe is me, Heere lyes my true-loue deade!
29 Hee cutt the papps beside he[r] brest, And bad her wish her will; And he cutt the eares beside her heade, And bade her wish on still.
30 'Mickle is the mans blood I haue spent, To doe thee and me some good;' Sayes, Euer alacke, my fayre lady, I thinke _tha_t I was woode!
31 He calld then vp his litle foote-page, And made him heyre of all his land, . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
32 And he shope the crosse in his right sholder, Of the white flesh and the redd, And he went him into the holy land, Wheras Christ was quicke and dead.
* * * * *
6^{1, 3}, 23^2, 24^3. 24.
8^1. sist.
11^1, 12^1. bookes man: _cf._ 15^1.
14^2. never dye.
15^2. _~Cooke~ seems to be wrongly repeated._
19^3. 5.
20^3. first sleep.
21^2. 13.
25^3. 2.
25^4. _So Hales and Furnivall._
26^1. ladie bright. _Qy_ fayre?
26^2. burning light.
28^1. 2^d.
30^2. thee & and.
32^3. sent him.
And _always for_ &.
[135] As Sir Frederick Madden has observed, who cites some of the instances given.
81
LITTLE MUSGRAVE AND LADY BARNARD
#A.# 'Little Musgrave and the Lady Barnard.' #a.# Wit Restord, 1658, in the reprint "Facetiæ," London, 1817, I, 293. #b.# Wit and Drollery, 1682, p. 81.
#B.# Percy MS., p. 53; Hales and Furnivall, I, 119.
#C. a.# 'Little Mousgrove and the Lady Barnet,' Pepys Ballads, I, 364. #b.# Pepys Ballads, III, 314. #c.# Roxburghe Ballads, III, 146. #d.# Roxburghe Ballads, III, 340. #e.# Bagford Ballads, I, 36.
#D.# 'Lord Barnard,' Kinloch MSS, I, 287.
#E.# 'Young Musgrave,' Campbell MSS, II, 43.
#F.# 'Lord Barnaby,' Jamieson's Popular Ballads, I, 170.
#G.# 'Wee Messgrove,' Motherwell's MS., p. 643.
#H.# 'Little Musgrave,' Motherwell's MS., p. 120.
#I.# 'Little Sir Grove,' Motherwell's MS., p. 305.
#J.# 'Lord Barnabas' Lady,' Motherwell's MS., p. 371.
#K.# Dr Joseph Robertson's Journal of Excursions, No 5.
#L.# 'Lord Barnett and Little Munsgrove,' Buchan's MSS, I, 27: Scottish Traditional Versions of Ancient Ballads, Percy Society, XVII, 21.
#M.# 'Little Mushiegrove,' Motherwell's Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. xx, XXI, one stanza.
#N.# 'Little Massgrove,' communicated by Miss Reburn, as learned in County Meath, Ireland, two stanzas.
A copy of this ballad in Dryden's Miscellany, III, 312, 1716, agrees with the one in Wit and Drollery. That in Ritson's Select Collection of English Songs, II, 215, 1783, agrees with Dryden's save in two or three words. The broadside #C a# was printed for Henry Gosson, who is said by Chappell to have published from 1607 to 1641. If the lower limit be correct, this is the earliest impression known.[136] The other broadsides, #C b-e#, are later, but all of the seventeenth century. Percy inserted the ballad in his Reliques, III, 67, 1765, making a broadside in the British Museum his basis, and correcting as usual.
Percy remarks: This ballad is ancient, and has been popular; we find it quoted in many old plays. Cases cited by him are: Beaumont and Fletcher's Knight of the Burning Pestle, V, 3, Dyce II, 223, of about 1611:
And some they whistled, and some they sung, Hey down, down And some did loudly say, Ever as the lord Barnet's horn blew, Away, Musgrave, away!
Again, Sir William Davenant's play 'The Wits,' where Sir Thwack boasts, "I sing Musgrove, and for the Chevy Chase no lark comes near me," Act III, p. 194, of ed. 1672; and 'The Varietie,' a comedy, Act IV, 1649. In Beaumont and Fletcher's 'Bonduca,' V, 2, Dyce, V, 88, dating before March, 1619, we find this stanza, which is perhaps #A# 26, loosely remembered:
She set the sword unto her breast, Great pity it was to see That three drops of her life-warm blood Run trickling down her knee.
And two stanzas in Fletcher's 'Monsieur Thomas,' IV, 11, Dyce VII, 375, earlier than 1639, may well be #A# 11, 12 parodied:
If this be true, thou little tiny page, This tale that thou tellst me, Then on thy back will I presently hang A handsome new livery.
But if this be false, thou little tiny page, As false it well may be, Then with a cudgel of four foot long I'll beat thee from head to toe.
Jamieson says, in a prefatory note to #F#, that he had heard 'Little Musgrave' repeated, with very little variation, both in Morayshire and the southern counties of Scotland. All the Scottish versions are late, and to all seeming derived, indirectly or immediately, from print.[137] As a recompense we have a fine ballad upon the same theme, 'The Bonny Birdy,' which is not represented in England.
In the English broadside and most of the northern versions the lovers try a bribe, a threat, or both, to make the page keep counsel. In some of these Musgrave, when detected, ejaculates a craven imprecation of woe to the fair woman that lies in his arms asleep, #G# 23, #H# 16, #I# 14, #J# 20, #L# 37. In #I# the men are brothers; in #E#, #F# Musgrave has a wife of his own; in #C#, #G# Lord Barnard kills himself; in #E# he is hanged! None of these divergences from the story as we have it in #A# are improvements, but it is an improvement that the lady should die by stroke of steel as in #C#, #E#, #H#, #J#, #K#, #L#, in exchange for the barbarity of #A#. The penance in #L# is a natural and common way of ending such a tragedy. The collecting of the lady's heart's blood in a basin of pure silver, #G# 28-30, is probably borrowed from 'Lammikin,' where this trait is very effective.
The heathen child, #B# 13^1, is a child unchristened. An unbaptized child seems still to be called so in Norway, and so is a woman between childbirth and churching. In modern Icelandic usage a boy or girl before confirmation is called heathen, from confusion between baptism and confirmation: Ivar Aasen, at the word heiden; Vigfusson, at the word heiðinn.[138]
#K# 12,
O he's taen out a lang, lang brand, And stripped it athwart the straw,
explains a corruption in #E# 18^2, where the manuscript reads, He's struck _her_ in the straw, and another in #J# 9. The sword is wiped or whetted on straw in 'Clerk Saunders,' #A# 15, #C# 13, #D# 8, #G# 17; 'Willie and Lady Maisry,' #B# 19; 'Lord Thomas and Fair Annet,' #B# 36; 'Lady Diamond,' Buchan, II, 206, st. 8. Child Maurice dries his sword on the grass, John Steward dries his on his sleeve, #A# 27, 28; Glasgerion dries his sword on his sleeve, #A# 22; Horn wipes his sword on his arm, King Horn, ed. Wissmann, 622 f.
A
#a.# Wit Restord, 1658, in the reprint 'Facetiæ,' London, 1817, I, 293. #b.# Wit and Drollery, 1682, p. 81.
1 As it fell one holy-day, Hay downe As many be in the yeare, When young men and maids together did goe, Their mattins and masse to heare,
2 Little Musgrave came to the church-dore; The preist was at private masse; But he had more minde of the faire women Then he had of our lady['s] grace.
3 The one of them was clad in green, Another was clad in pall, And then came in my lord Bernard's wife, The fairest amonst them all.
4 She cast an eye on Little Musgrave, As bright as the summer sun; And then bethought this Little Musgrave, This lady's heart have I woonn.
5 Quoth she, I have loved thee, Little Musgrave, Full long and many a day; 'So have I loved you, fair lady, Yet never word durst I say.'
6 'I have a bower at Buckelsfordbery, Full daintyly it is deight; If thou wilt wend thither, thou Little Musgrave, Thou 's lig in mine armes all night.'
7 Quoth he, I thank yee, faire lady, This kindnes thou showest to me; But whether it be to my weal or woe, This night I will lig with thee.
8 With that he heard, a little tynë page, By his ladye's coach as he ran: 'All though I am my ladye's foot-page, Yet I am Lord Barnard's man.
9 'My lord Barnard shall knowe of this, Whether I sink or swim;' And ever where the bridges were broake He laid him downe to swimme.
10 'A sleepe or wake, thou Lord Barnard, As thou art a man of life, For Little Musgrave is at Bucklesfordbery, A bed with thy own wedded wife.'
11 'If this be true, thou little tinny page, This thing thou tellest to me, Then all the land in Bucklesfordbery I freely will give to thee.
12 'But if it be a ly, thou little tinny page, This thing thou tellest to me, On the hyest tree in Bucklesfordbery Then hanged shalt thou be.'
13 He called up his merry men all: 'Come saddle me my steed; This night must I to Buckellsfordbery, For I never had greater need.'
14 And some of them whistld, and some of them sung, And some these words did say, And ever when my lord Barnard's horn blew, 'Away, Musgrave, away!'
15 'Methinks I hear the thresel-cock, Methinks I hear the jaye; Methinks I hear my lord Barnard, And I would I were away.'
16 'Lye still, lye still, thou Little Musgrave, And huggell me from the cold; 'Tis nothing but a shephard's boy, A driving his sheep to the fold.
17 'Is not thy hawke upon a perch? Thy steed eats oats and hay; And thou a fair lady in thine armes, And wouldst thou bee away?'
18 With that my lord Barnard came to the dore, And lit a stone upon; He plucked out three silver keys, And he opend the dores each one.
19 He lifted up the coverlett, He lifted up the sheet: 'How now, how now, thou Littell Musgrave, Doest thou find my lady sweet?'
20 'I find her sweet,' quoth Little Musgrave, 'The more 'tis to my paine; I would gladly give three hundred pounds That I were on yonder plaine.'
21 'Arise, arise, thou Littell Musgrave, And put thy clothës on; It shall nere be said in my country I have killed a naked man.
22 'I have two swords in one scabberd, Full deere they cost my purse; And thou shalt have the best of them, And I will have the worse.'
23 The first stroke that Little Musgrave stroke, He hurt Lord Barnard sore; The next stroke that Lord Barnard stroke, Little Musgrave nere struck more.
24 With that bespake this faire lady, In bed whereas she lay: 'Although thou'rt dead, thou Little Musgrave, Yet I for thee will pray.
25 'And wish well to thy soule will I, So long as I have life; So will I not for thee, Barnard, Although I am thy wedded wife.'
26 He cut her paps from off her brest; Great pitty it was to see That some drops of this ladie's heart's blood Ran trickling downe her knee.
27 'Woe worth you, woe worth, my mery men all You were nere borne for my good; Why did you not offer to stay my hand, When you see me wax so wood?
28 'For I have slaine the bravest sir knight That ever rode on steed; So have I done the fairest lady That ever did woman's deed.
29 'A grave, a grave,' Lord Barnard cryd, 'To put these lovers in; But lay my lady on the upper hand, For she came of the better kin.'
B
Percy MS., p. 53, Hales and Furnivall, I, 119.
* * * * * * *
1 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 'Ffor this same night att [Bucklesfeildberry] Litle Musgreue is in bed w_i_th thy wife.'
2 'If it be trew, thou litle foote-page, This tale thou hast told to mee, Then all my lands in Buckle[s]feildberry I'le freely giue to thee.
3 'But if this be a lye, thou little foot-page, This tale thou hast told to mee, Then on the highest tree in Bucklesfeildberry All hanged that thou shalt bee.'
4 Saies, Vpp and rise, my merrymen all, And saddle me my good steede, For I must ride to Bucklesfeildberry; God wott I had neuer more need!
5 But some they whistled, and some thé sunge, And some they thus cold say, When euer as Lo_rd_ Barnetts horne blowes, 'Away, Musgreue, away!'
6 'Mie thinkes I heare the throstlecocke, Me thinkes I heare the iay, Me thinkes I heare Lo_rd_ Barnetts horne, Away, Musgreue, away!'
7 'But lie still, lie still, Litle Musgreue, And huddle me from the cold, For it is but some sheaperds boy, Is whistling sheepe ore the mold.
8 'Is not thy hauke vpon a pearch, Thy horsse eating corne and hay? And thou, a gay lady in thine armes, And yett thou wold goe away!'
9 By this time Lo_rd_ Barnett was come to the dore, And light vpon a stone, And he pulled out three silver kayes, And opened the dores euery one.
10 And first he puld the couering downe, And then puld downe the sheete; Saies, How now? How now, Litle Musgreue? Dost find my gay lady sweet?
11 'I find her sweete,' saies Litle Musgreue, 'The more is my greefe and paine;' . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
* * * * * * *
12 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 'Soe haue I done the fairest lady _Tha_t euer wore womans weede.
13 'Soe haue I done a heathen child, W_hi_ch ffull sore greiueth mee, For w_hi_ch Ile repent all the dayes of my life, And god be with them all three!'
C
#a.# Pepys Ballads, I, 364, No 187. #b.# Pepys Ballads, III, 314, No 310. #c.# Roxburghe Ballads, III, 146. #d.# Roxburghe Ballads, III, 340. #e.# Bagford Ballads, I, 36.
1 As it fell on a light holyday, As many more does in the yeere, Little Mousgrove would to the church and pray, To see the faire ladyes there.
2 Gallants there were of good degree, For beauty exceeding faire, Most wonderous lovely to the eie, That did to that church repaire.
3 Some came downe in red velvet, And others came downe in pall, But next came downe my Lady Barnet, The fairest amongst them all.
4 She cast a looke upon Little Mousgrove, As bright as the summer's sunne; Full well perceived then Little Mousgrove Lady Barnet's love he had wonne.
5 Then Lady Barnet most meeke and mild Saluted this Little Mousgrove, Who did repay her kinde courtesie With favour and gentle love.
6 'I have a bower in merry Barnet, Bestrowed with cowslips sweet; If that it please you, Little Mousgrove, In love me there to meete,
7 'Within mine armes one night to sleepe, For you my heart have wonne, You need not feare my suspicious lord, For he from home is gone.'
8 'Betide me life, betide me death, This night I will sleepe with thee, And for thy sake I'le hazzard my breath, So deare is thy love to me.'
9 'What shall wee doe with our little foot-page, Our counsell for to keepe, And watch for feare Lord Barnet comes, Whilest wee together doe sleepe?'
10 'Red gold shall be his hier,' quoth he, 'And silver shall be his fee, If he our counsell safely doe keepe, That I may sleepe with thee.'
11 'I will have none of your gold,' said he, 'Nor none of your silver fee; If I should keepe your counsell, sir, 'Twere great disloyaltie.
12 'I will not be false unto my lord, For house nor yet for land; But if my lady doe prove untrue, Lord Barnet shall understand.'
13 Then swiftly runnes the little foot-page, Unto his lord with speed, Who then was feasting with his deare friends, Not dreaming of this ill deede.
14 Most speedily the page did haste, Most swiftly did he runne, And when he came to the broken bridge He lay on his brest and swumme.
15 The page did make no stay at all, But went to his lord with speed, That he the truth might say to him Concerning this wicked deed.
16 He found his lord at supper then, Great merriment there they did keepe: 'My lord,' quoth he, 'this night, on my word, Mousgrove with your lady does sleepe.'
17 'If this be true, my little foot-page, And true as thou tellest to me, My eldest daughter I'le give to thee, And wedded thou shalt be.
18 'If this be a lye, my little foot-page, And a lye as thou tellest to mee, A new paire of gallowes shall straight be set, And hanged shalt thou be.'
19 'If this be a lye, my lord,' said he, 'A lye that you heare from me, Then never stay a gallowes to make, But hang me up on the next tree.'
20 Lord Barnet then cald up his merry men, Away with speed he would goe; His heart was so perplext with griefe, The truth of this he must know.
21 'Saddle your horses with speed,' quoth he, 'And saddle me my white steed; If this be true as the page hath said, Mousgrove shall repent this deed.'
22 He charg'd his men no noise to make, As they rode all along on the way; 'Nor winde no hornes,' quoth he, 'on your life, Lest our comming it should betray.'
23 But one of the men, that Mousgrove did love, And respected his friendship most deare, To give him knowledge Lord Barnet was neere, Did winde his bugle most cleere.
24 And evermore as he did blow, 'Away, Mousgrove, and away; For if I take thee with my lady, Then slaine thou shalt be this day.'
25 'O harke, fair lady, your lord is neere, I heare his little horne blow; And if he finde me in your armes thus, Then slaine I shall be, I know.'
26 'O lye still, lye still, Little Mousgrove, And keepe my backe from the cold; I know it is my father's shepheard, Driving sheepe to the pinfold.'
27 Mousgrove did turne him round about, Sweete slumber his eyes did greet; When he did wake, he then espied Lord Barnet at his bed's feete.
28 'O rise up, rise up, Little Mousgrove, And put thy clothës on; It shall never be said in faire England I slew a naked man.
29 'Here's two good swords,' Lord Barnet said, 'Thy choice, Mousgrove, thou shalt make; The best of them thy selfe shalt have, And I the worst will take.'
30 The first good blow that Mousgrove did strike, He wounded Lord Barnet sore; The second blow that Lord Barnet gave, Mousgrove could strike no more.
31 He tooke his lady by the white hand, All love to rage did convert, That with his sword, in most furious sort, He pierst her tender heart.
32 'A grave, a grave,' Lord Barnet cryde, 'Prepare to lay us in; My lady shall lie on the upper side, Cause she's of the better kin.'
33 Then suddenly he slue himselfe, Which grieves his friends full sore; The deaths of these thra worthy wights With teares they did deplore.
34 This sad mischance by lust was wrought; Then let us call for grace, That we may shun this wicked vice, And mend our lives apace.
D
Kinloch MSS, I, 287.
1 There were four and twenty gentlemen A playing at the ba, And lusty Lady Livingstone Cuist her ee out oure them a'.
2 She cuist her ee on Lord Barnard, He was baith black and broun; She cuist her ee on Little Musgrave, As bricht as the morning sun.
3 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 'What'll I gie ye, my Little Musgrave, Ae nicht wi me to sleep?'
4 'Ae nicht wi you to sleep,' he says, 'O that wad breed meikle strife; For the ring on your white finger Shows you Lord Barnard's wife.'
5 'O Lord Barnard he is gane frae hame, He'll na return the day; He has tane wi him a purse o goud, For he's gane hind away.'
6 Up startit then the wylie foot-page, . . . . . . . 'What will ye gie to me,' he said, 'Your council for to keep?'
7 'O goud sall be my little boy's fee, And silver sall be his hire; But an I hear a word mair o this, He sall burn in charcoal fire.'
8 But the wylie foot-page to the stable went, Took out a milk-white steed, And away, away, and away he rade, Away wi meikle speed.
9 It's whan he cam to the water-side, He smoothd his breist and swam, And whan he cam to gerss growing, He set down his feet and ran.
10 'Whan he cam to Lord Barnard's towr Lord Barnard was at meat; He said, 'If ye kend as meikle as me, It's little wad ye eat.'
11 'Are onie o my castles brunt?' he says, 'Or onie my towrs won? Or is my gay ladie broucht to bed, Of a dochter or a son?'
12 'There is nane o your castles brunt, Nor nane o your towrs won; Nor is your gay ladie broucht to bed, Of a dochter or a son.
13 'But Little Musgrave, that gay young man, Is in bed wi your ladie, . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
14 'If this be true ye tell to me, It's goud sall be your fee; But if it be fause ye tell to me, I'se hang ye on a tree.'
* * * * * * *
15 Whan they cam to yon water-side, They smoothd their breists and swam; And whan they cam to gerss growing, They set doun their feet and ran.
* * * * * * *
16 'How do ye like my sheets?' he said, 'How do ye like my bed? And how do ye like my gay ladie, Wha's lying at your side?'
17 'O I do like your sheets,' he said, 'Sae do I like your bed; But mair do I like your gay ladie, Wha's lying at my side.'
18 'Get up, get up, young man,' he said, 'Get up as swith 's ye can; Let it never be said that Lord Barnard Slew in bed a nakit man.'
* * * * * * *
19 'How do ye like his bluidy cheeks? Or how do ye like me?' 'It's weill do I like his bluidy cheeks, Mair than your haill bodie.'
20 Then she has kissd his bluidy cheeks, It's oure and oure again.' . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
E
Campbell MSS, II, 43.
1 Four and twenty gay ladies Were playing at the ba, And [out] came Lord Barnaby's lady, The fairest o them a'.
2 She coost her eyes on Little Musgrave, And he on her again; She coost her eyes on Little Musgrave, As they twa lovers had been.
3 'I have a hall in Mulberry, It stands baith strong and tight; If you will go to there with me, I'll lye with you all night.'
4 'To lye with you, madam,' he says, 'Will breed both sturt and strife; I see by the rings on your fingers You are Lord Barnaby's wife.'
5 'Lord Barnaby's to the hunting gone, And far out oer the hill, And he will not return again Till the evening tide untill.'
6 They were not well lain down, Nor yet well fallen asleep, Till up started Lord Barnaby's boy, Just up at their bed-feet.
7 She took out a little penknife, Which hung down low by her gair: 'If you do not my secret keep, A word ye's neer speak mair.'
8 The laddie gae a blythe leer look, A blythe leer look gave he, And he's away to Lord Barnaby, As fast as he can hie.
* * * * * * *
9 'If these tidings binna true, These tidings ye tell to me, A gallows-tree I'll gar be made And hanged ye shall be.
10 'But if these tidings are true, These tidings ye tell me, The fairest lady in a' my court I'll gar her marry thee.'
11 He's taen out a little horn, He blew baith loud and sma, And aye the turning o the tune 'Away, Musgrave, awa!'
12 They were not well lain down, Nor yet well fallen asleep, Till up started Lord Barnaby, Just up at their bed-feet.
13 'O how like ye my blankets, Musgrave? And how like ye my sheets? And how like ye my gay lady, So sound in your arms that sleeps?'
14 'Weel I like your blankets, Sir, And far better yere sheets; And better far yere gay lady, So sound in my arms that sleeps.'
15 'Get up, get up, now, Little Musgrave, And draw to hose and sheen; It's neer be said in my country I'd fight a naked man.
16 'There is two swords into my house, And they cost me right dear; Take you the best, and I the worst, I'll fight the battle here.'
17 The first stroke that Lord Barnaby gave, It was baith deep and sore; The next stroke that Lord Barnaby gave, A word he never spoke more.
18 He's taen out a rappier then, He's struck it in the straw, And thro and thro his lady's sides He gard the cauld steel gae.
19 'I am not sae wae for Little Musgrave, As he lys cauld and dead; But I'm right wae for his lady, For she'll gae witless wud.
20 'I'm not sae wae for my lady, For she lies cauld and dead; But I'm right wae for my young son, Lies sprawling in her blood.'
21 First crew the black cock, And next crew the sparrow; And what the better was Lord Barnaby? He was hanged on the morrow.
F
Jamieson's Popular Ballads and Songs, I, 170.
1 'I have a tower in Dalisberry, Which now is dearly dight, And I will gie it to Young Musgrave, To lodge wi me a' night.'
2 'To lodge wi thee a' night, fair lady, Wad breed baith sorrow and strife; For I see by the rings on your fingers You're good Lord Barnaby's wife.'
3 'Lord Barnaby's wife although I be, Yet what is that to thee? For we'll beguile him for this ae night, He's on to fair Dundee.
4 'Come here, come here, my little foot-page, This gold I will give thee, If ye will keep thir secrets close 'Tween Young Musgrave and me.
5 'But here I hae a little pen-knife, Hings low down by my gare; Gin ye winna keep thir secrets close, Ye'll find it wonder sair.'
6 Then she's taen him to her chamber, And down in her arms lay he; The boy coost aff his hose and shoon, And ran to fair Dundee.
7 When he cam to the wan water, He slackd his bow and swam, And when he cam to growin grass, Set down his feet and ran.
8 And when he cam to fair Dundee, Wad neither chap nor ca, But set his braid bow to his breast, And merrily jumpd the wa.
9 'O waken ye, waken ye, my good lord, Waken, and come away!' 'What ails, what ails my wee foot-page, He cries sae lang ere day?
10 'O is my bowers brent, my boy? Or is my castle won? Or has the lady that I loe best Brought me a daughter or son?'
11 'Your ha's are safe, your bowers are safe, And free frae all alarms, But, oh! the lady that ye loe best Lies sound in Musgrave's arms.'
12 'Gae saddle to me the black,' he cried, 'Gae saddle to me the gray; Gae saddle to me the swiftest steed, To hie me on my way.'
13 'O lady, I heard a wee horn toot, And it blew wonder clear; And ay the turning o the note, Was, Barnaby will be here!
14 'I thought I heard a wee horn blaw, And it blew loud and high; And ay at ilka turn it said, Away, Musgrave, away!'
15 'Lie still, my dear, lie still, my dear, Ye keep me frae the cold; For it is but my father's shepherds, Driving their flocks to the fold.'
16 Up they lookit, and down they lay, And they're fa'en sound asleep; Till up stood good Lord Barnaby, Just close at their bed-feet.
17 'How do you like my bed, Musgrave? And how like ye my sheets? And how like ye my fair lady, Lies in your arms and sleeps?'
18 'Weel like I your bed, my lord, And weel like I your sheets, But ill like I your fair lady, Lies in my arms and sleeps.
19 'You got your wale o se'en sisters, And I got mine o five; Sae tak ye mine, and I's tak thine, And we nae mair sall strive.'
20 'O my woman's the best woman That ever brak world's bread, And your woman's the worst woman That ever drew coat oer head.
21 'I hae twa swords in ae scabbert, They are baith sharp and clear; Tak ye the best, and I the warst, And we'll end the matter here.
22 'But up, and arm thee, Young Musgrave, We'll try it han to han; It's neer be said o Lord Barnaby, He strack at a naked man.'
23 The first straik that Young Musgrave got, It was baith deep and sair, And down he fell at Barnaby's feet, And word spak never mair.
* * * * * * *
24 'A grave, a grave,' Lord Barnaby cried, 'A grave to lay them in; My lady shall lie on the sunny side, Because of her noble kin.'
25 But oh, how sorry was that good lord, For a' his angry mood, Whan he beheld his ain young son All weltring in his blood!
G
Motherwell's MS., p. 643, from the recitation of Mrs McConechie, Kilmarnock.
1 Lord Barnard's awa to the green wood, To hunt the fallow deer; His vassals a' are gane wi him, His companie to bear.
2 His lady wrate a braid letter, And seald it wi her hand, And sent it aff to Wee Messgrove, To come at her command.
3 When Messgrove lookt the letter on, A waefu man was he; Sayin, Gin I'm gript wi Lord Barnard's wife, Sure hanged I will be.
4 When he came to Lord Barnard's castel He tinklit at the ring, And nane was so ready as the lady hersell To let Wee Messgrove in.
5 'Welcome, welcome, Messgrove,' she said, 'You're welcome here to me; Lang hae I loed your bonnie face, And lang hae ye loed me.
6 'Lord Barnard is a hunting gane, I hope he'll neer return, And ye sall sleep into his bed, And keep his lady warm.'
7 'It cannot be,' Messgrove he said, 'I ween it cannot be; Gin Lord Barnard suld come hame this nicht, What wuld he do to me?'
8 'Ye naething hae to fear, Messgrove, Ye naething hae to fear; I'll set my page without the gate, To watch till morning clear.'
9 But wae be to the wee fut-page, And an ill death mat he die! For he's awa to the green wood, As hard as he can flee.
10 And whan he to the green wood cam, 'Twas dark as dark could bee, And he fand his maister and his men Asleep aneth a tree.
11 'Rise up, rise up, maister,' he said, 'Rise up, and speak to me; Your wife's in bed wi Wee Messgrove, Rise up richt speedilie.'
12 'Gin that be true ye tell to me, A lord I will mak thee; But gin it chance to be a lie, Sure hanged ye sall be.'
13 'It is as true, my lord,' he said, 'As ever ye were born; Messgrove's asleep in your lady's bed, All for to keep her warm.'
14 He mounted on his milk-white steed, He was ane angry man; And he reachd his stately castell gate Just as the day did dawn.
15 He put his horn unto his mouth, And he blew strong blasts three; Sayin, He that's in bed with anither man's wife, He suld be gaun awa.
16 Syne out and spak the Wee Messgrove, A frichtit man was he; 'I hear Lord Barnard's horn,' he said, 'It blaws baith loud and hie.'
17 'Lye still, lye still, my Wee Messgrove, And keep me frae the cauld; 'Tis but my father's shepherd's horn, A sounding in the fauld.'
18 He put his horn unto his mouth, And he blew loud blasts three; Saying, He that's in bed wi anither man's wife, 'Tis time he was awa.
19 Syne out and spak the Wee Messgrove, A frichtit man was he: 'Yon surely is Lord Barnard's horn, And I maun een gae flee.'
20 Lye still, lye still, Messgrove,' she said, 'And keep me frae the cauld; 'Tis but my father's shepherd's horn, A sounding in the fauld.'
21 And ay Lord Barnard blew and blew, Till he was quite wearie; Syne he threw down his bugle horn, And up the stair ran he.
22 'How do you like my blankets, Sir? How do you like my sheets? How do ye like my gay ladie, That lies in your arms asleep?'
23 'Oh weel I like your blankets, Sir, And weel I like your sheet; But wae be to your gay ladie, That lyes in my arms asleep!'
24 'I'll gie you ae sword, Messgrove, And I will take anither; What fairer can I do, Messgrove, Altho ye war my brither?'
25 The firsten wound that Messgrove gat, It woundit him richt sair; And the second wound that Messgrove gat, A word he neer spak mair.
26 'Oh how do ye like his cheeks, ladie? Or how do ye like his chin? Or how do ye like his fair bodie, That there's nae life within?'
27 'Oh weel I like his cheeks,' she said, 'And weel I like his chin; And weel I like his fair bodie, That there's nae life within.'
28 'Repeat these words, my fair ladie, Repeat them ower agane, And into a basin of pure silver I'll gar your heart's bluid rin.'
29 'Oh weel I like his cheeks,' she said, 'And weel I like his chin; And better I like his fair bodie Than a' your kith and kin.'
30 Syne he took up his gude braid sword, That was baith sharp and fine, And into a basin of pure silver Her heart's bluid he gart rin.
31 'O wae be to my merrie men, And wae be to my page, That they didna hald my cursed hands When I was in a rage!'
32 He leand the halbert on the ground, The point o 't to his breast, Saying, Here are three sauls gaun to heaven, I hope they'll a' get rest.
H
Motherwell's MS., p. 120.
1 Little Musgrove is to the church gone, Some ladies for to sply; Doun came one drest in black, And one came drest in brown, And down and came Lord Barlibas' lady, The fairest in a' the town.
* * * * * * *
2 'I know by the ring that's on your finger That you'r my Lord Barlibas' lady:' 'Indeed I am the Lord Barlibas' lady, And what altho I bee?'
* * * * * * *
3 'Money shall be your hire, foot-page, And gold shall be your fee; You must not tell the secrets That's between Musgrove and me.'
4 'Money shall not be hire,' he said, 'Nor gold shall be my fee; But I'll awa to my own liege lord, With the tidings you've told to me.'
5 When he cam to the broken brig, He coost aff his clothes and he swimd, And when he cam to Lord Barlibas' yett, He tirled at the pin.
6 'What news, what news, my little foot-page? What news have ye brocht to me? Is my castle burnt?' he said, 'Or is my tower tane? Or is my lady lighter yet, Of a daughter or son?'
7 'Your castle is not burnt,' he says, 'Nor yet is your tower tane, Nor yet is your lady brocht to bed, Of a daughter or a son; But Little Musgrove is lying wi her, Till he thinks it is time to be gane.'
8 'O if the news be a lie,' he says, 'That you do tell unto me, I'll ca up a gallows to my yard-yett, And hangd on it thou shallt be.
9 'But if the news be true,' he says, 'That you do tell unto me, I have a young fair dochter at hame, Weel wedded on her you shall be.'
10 He called upon his merry men, By thirties and by three: 'Put aff the warst, put on the best, And come along with me.'
11 He put a horn to his mouth, And this he gard it say: 'The man that's in bed wi Lord Barlibas' lady, It's time he were up and away.'
12 'What does yon trumpet mean?' he sayd, 'Or what does yon trumpet say? I think it says, the man that's in bed wi Lord Barlibas' lady, It's time he were up and away.'
13 'O lie you still, my Little Musgrove, And cover me from the cold, For it is but my father's sheepherd, That's driving his sheep to the fold.'
14 . . . . . . . In a little while after that, Up started good Lord Barlibas, At Little Musgrove his feet.
15 'How do you like my blankets?' he says, 'Or how do you like my sheets? Or how do you like mine own fair lady, That lies in your arms and sleeps?'
16 'I like your blankets very well, And far better your sheets; But woe be to this wicked woman, That lies in my arms and sleeps!'
17 'Rise up, rise up, my Little Musgrove, Rise up, and put your clothes on; It's neer be said on no other day That I killed a naked man.
18 'There is two swords in my chamber, I wot they cost me dear; Take you the best, give me the warst, We'll red the question here.'
19 The first stroke that Lord Barlibas struck, He dang Little Musgrove to the ground; The second stroke that Lord Barlibas gave Dang his lady in a deadly swound.
20 'Gar mak, gar mak a coffin,' he says, 'Gar mak it wide and long, And lay my lady at the right hand, For she's come of the noblest kin.'
I
Motherwell's MS., p. 305, from the recitation of Rebecca Dunse, 4th May, 1825: one of her mother's songs, an old woman.
* * * * * * *
1 'It's gold shall be your hire,' she says, 'And silver shall be your fee, If you will keep the secrets Between Little Sir Grove and me.'
2 'Tho gold should be my hire,' he says, 'And silver should be my fee, It's I'll not keep the secret Betwixt Little Sir Grove and thee.'
3 Up he rose, and away he goes, And along the plain he ran, And when he came to Lord Bengwill's castle, He tinkled at the pin; And who was sae ready as Lord Bengwill himsell To let this little page in.
4 'Is any of my towers burnt?' he said, 'Or any of my castles taen? Or is Lady Bengwill brought to bed, Of a daughter or a son?'
5 'It's nane of your towers are burnt,' he said, 'Nor nane of your castles taen; But Lady Bengwill and Little Sir Grove To merry bed they are gane.'
6 'If this be true that you tell me, Rewarded you shall be; And if it's a lie that you tell me, You shall be hanged before your ladie's ee.
7 'Get saddled to me the black,' he says, 'Get saddled to me the brown; Get saddled to me the swiftest steed That ever man rode on.'
8 The firsten town that he came to, He blew baith loud and schill, And aye the owre-word o the tune Was, 'Sir Grove, I wish you well.'
9 The nexten town that he came to, He blew baith loud and long, And aye the owre-word of the tune Was 'Sir Grove, it is time to be gone.'
10 'Is yon the sound of the hounds?' he says, 'Or is yon the sound of the deer? But I think it's the sound of my brother's horn, That sounds sae schill in my ear.'
11 'Lye still, lye still, Sir Grove,' she says, 'And keep a fair lady from cold; It's but the sound of my father's herd-boys, As they're driving the sheep to the fold.'
12 They lay down in each other's arms, And they fell fast asleep, And neer a one of them did wake Till Lord Bengwill stood at their feet.
13 'How do you love my soft pillow? Or how do you love my sheets? Or how do you love my fair lady, That lies in your arms and sleeps?'
14 'Full well I love your soft pillow, Far better I love your sheets; But woe be to your fair lady, That lies in my arms and sleeps!'
15 'Rise up, rise up, Sir Grove,' he says, 'Some clothes there put you upon; Let it never be said in fair England I fought with a naked man.'
16 'Oh where shall I go, or where shall I fly, Or where shall I run for my life? For you've got two broadswords into your hand, And I have never a knife.'
17 'You shall take the one sword,' he says, 'And I shall take the other, And that is as fair I'm sure to day As that you are my born brother.'
18 'Hold your hand, hold your hand, my brother dear, You've wounded me full sore; You may get a mistress in every town, But a brother you'll never get more.'
19 The very first stroke that Lord Bengwill gave him, He wounded him full sore; The very next stroke that Lord Bengwill gave him, A word he never spoke more.
20 He's lifted up Lady Bengwill, And set her on his knee, Saying, Whether do you love Little Sir Grove Better than you do me?
21 'Full well I love your cherry cheeks, Full well I love your chin, But better I love Little Sir Grove, where he lies, Than you and all your kin.'
* * * * * * *
22 'A grave, a grave,' Lord Bengwill cried, 'To put these lovers in, And put Lady Bengwill uppermost, For she's come of the noblest kin.'
J
Motherwell's MS., p. 371, from the recitation of Agnes Lyle, Kilbarchan.
1 Four and twenty ladies fair Was playing at the ba, And out cam the lady, Barnabas' lady, The flower amang them a'.
2 She coost an ee on Little Mossgrey, As brisk as any sun, And he coost anither on her again, And they thocht the play was won.
3 'What would you think, Little Mossgrey, To lye wi me this nicht? Good beds I hae in Barnabey, If they were ordered richt.'
4 'Hold thy tongue, fair lady,' he says, 'For that would cause much strife; For I see by the rings on your fingers That you're Lord Barnabas' wife.'
5 'Lord Barnabas' lady indeed I am, And that I'll let you ken, But he's awa to the king's court, And I hope he'll neer come hame.'
6 Wi wrapped arms in bed they lay Till they fell both asleep, When up and starts Barnabas' boy, And stood at their bed-feet.
7 'How likes thou the bed, Mossgrey? Or how likes thou the sheets? Or how likes thou my master's lady, Lyes in thy arms and sleeps?'
8 'Weel I love the bed,' he said, 'And far better the sheets; But foul may fa your master's lady, Lies in my arms and sleeps!'
9 She pulled out a rusty sword, Was sticking by the stroe; Says, Tell no tidings of me, my boy, Or thou'll neer tell no moe.
10 He's awa to the king's court, As fast as he can dree; He's awa to the king's court, For to tell Barnaby.
11 'Are there any of my biggins brunt? Or any of my young men slain? Or is my lady brocht to bed, Of a dochter or a son?'
12 'There is none of your biggings brunt, There's none of your young men slain; But Little Mossgrey and your lady They are both in a bed within.'
13 'If that be true, my bonnie boy, Thou tellest unto me, I have not a dochter but only one, And married ye shall be.
14 'But if it be a lie, my bonnie boy, You're telling unto me, On the highest tree of Bailsberry, Thereon I'll gar hang thee.'
15 There was a man in the king's court Had a love to Little Mossgrey; He took a horn out of his pocket, And blew both loud and hie: 'He that's in bed wi Barnabas' lady, It's time he were away!'
16 'Oh am I not the maddest man Ere lay in a woman's bed! I think I hear his bridle ring, But and his horse feet tread.'
17 'Lye still, lye still, Little Mossgrey, And keep me from the cold; It's but my father's small sheep-herd, Calling his sheep to the fold.'
18 With wrapped arms in bed they lay Till they fell both asleep, Till up and darts Barnabas himsell, And stood at their bed-fit.
19 'How likest thou the bed, Mossgrey? And how loves thou the sheets? And how loves thou my lady fair, Lyes in your arms and sleeps?'
20 'Well I love your bed,' he says, 'And far better your sheets; But foul may fa your lady fair, Lyes in my arms and sleeps!'
21 'Rise, O rise, Little Mossgrey, Put on your hose and shoon; I'll neer hae't said in a far countrie I killed a naked man.'
22 Slowly, slowly rose he up, And slowly put he on, And slowly down the stairs he goes, And thinking to be slain.
23 'Here's two swords,' Barnabas said, 'I wad they cost me dear; Tak thou the best, I'll tak the warst, We'll try the battle here.'
24 The first stroke that Mossgrey got, It was baith sharp and sore; And the next stroke his lady got, One word she neer spak more.
25 'Ye'll mak a coffin large and wide, And lay this couple in; And lay her head on his right hand, She's come o the highest kin.'
K
Dr Joseph Robertson's Journal of Excursions, No 5, taken down from a man in the parish of Leochel, Aberdeenshire, February 12, 1829.
1 It's four and twenty bonny boys Were playin at the ba, And out it cums Lord Barnet's ladie, And playit out ower them a'.
2 And aye she shot it's Little Mousgray, As clear as any sun: 'O what wad ye gie, it's Little Mousgray, It's in o my arms to won?'
3 'For no, for no, my gay ladie, For no, that maunna be; For well ken I by the rings on your fingers, Lord Barnet's ladie are ye.'
4 When supper was over, and mass was sung, And a' man boun for bed, It's Little Mousgray and that lady In ae chamber was laid.
5 It's up and starts her little foot-page, Just up at her bed-feet: 'Hail weel, hail weel, my little foot-page, Hail well this deed on me, An ever I lee my life to brook, I 'se pay you well your fee.'
6 Out it spaks it's Little Mousgray: 'I think I hear a horn blaw; She blaws baith loud and shill at ilka turning of the tune, Mousgray, gae ye your wa!'
7 'Lie still, lie still, it's Little Mousgray, Had the caul win frae my back; It's bat my father's proud shepherds, The're huntin their hogs to the fauld.'
8 O up it starts the bold Barnet: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
9 'Win up, win up, it's Little Mousgray, Draw ti your stockins and sheen; I winna have it for to be said I killed a naked man.
10 'There is two swords in my scabbart, They cost me many a pun; Tak ye the best, and I the warst, And we sall to the green.'
11 The firsten strok Lord Barnet strak, He wound Mousgray very sore; The nexten stroke Lord Barnet strak, Mousgray spak never more.
12 O he's taen out a lang, lang brand, And stripped it athwart the straw, And throch and throu his ain ladie And he's gart it cum and ga.
13 There was nae main made for that ladie, In bower whar she lay dead! But a' was for her bonny young son, Lay blobberin amang the bluid.
L
Buchan's MSS, I, 27; Scottish Traditional Versions of Ancient Ballads, Percy Society, XVII, 21.
1 Four an twenty handsome youths Were a' playing at the ba, When forth it came him Little Munsgrove, The flower out ower them a'.
2 At times he lost, at times he wan, Till the noon-tide o the day, And four an twenty gay ladies Went out to view the play.
3 Some came down in white velvet, And other some in green; Lord Burnett's lady in red scarlet, And shin'd like ony queen.
4 Some came down in white velvet, And other some in pale; Lord Burnett's lady in red scarlet, Whose beauty did excell.
5 She gae a glance out ower them a', As beams dart frae the sun; She fixed her eyes on Little Munsgrove, For him her love lay on.
6 'Gude day, gude day, ye handsome youth, God make ye safe and free; What woud ye gie this day, Munsgrove, For ae night in bower wi me?'
7 'I darena for my lands, lady, I darena for my life; I ken by the rings on your fingers Ye are Lord Burnett's wife.'
8 'It woud na touch my heart, Munsgrove, Nae mair than 't woud my tae, To see as much o his heart's blood As twa brands coud let gae.
9 'I hae a bower in fair Strathdon, And pictures round it sett, And I hae ordered thee, Munsgrove, In fair Strathdon to sleep.'
10 Her flattering words and fair speeches, They were for him too strong, And she's prevailed on Little Munsgrove With her to gang along.
11 When mass was sung, and bells were rung, And a' man bound for bed, Little Munsgrove and that lady In ae chamber were laid.
12 'O what hire will ye gie your page, If he the watch will keep, In case that your gude lord come hame When we're fair fast asleep?'
13 'Siller, siller's be his wage, And gowd shall be his hire; But if he speak ae word o this, He'll die in a burning fire.'
14 'The promise that I make, Madam, I will stand to the same; I winna heal it an hour langer Than my master comes hame.'
15 She's taen a sharp brand in her hand, Being in the tidive hour; He ran between her and the door, She never saw him more.
16 Where he found the grass grow green, He slacked his shoes an ran, And where he found the brigs broken, He bent his bow an swam.
17 Lord Burnett ower a window lay, Beheld baith dale and down; And he beheld his ain foot-page Come hastening to the town.
18 'What news, what news, my little wee boy, Ye bring sae hastilie?' 'Bad news, bad news, my master,' he says, 'As ye will plainly see.'
19 'Are any of my biggins brunt, my boy? Or are my woods hewed down? Or is my dear lady lighter yet, O dear daughter or son?'
20 'There are nane o your biggins brunt, master, Nor are your woods hewn down; Nor is your lady lighter yet, O dear daughter nor son.
21 'But ye've a bower in fair Strathdon, And pictures round it sett, Where your lady and Little Munsgrove In fair Strathdon do sleep.'
22 'O had your tongue! why talk you so About my gay ladye? She is a gude and chaste woman As in the North Countrie.'
23 'A word I dinna lie, my lord, A word I dinna lie; And if ye winna believe my word, Your ain twa een shall see.'
24 'Gin this be a true tale ye tell, That ye have tauld to me, I'll wed you to my eldest daughter, And married you shall be.
25 'But if it be a fause story That ye hae tauld to me, A high gallows I'll gar be built, And hanged shall ye be.'
26 He's called upon his landlady, The reckoning for to pay, And pulled out twa hands fou o gowd; Says, We'll reckon anither day.
27 He called upon his stable-groom, To saddle for him his steed, And trampled ower yon rocky hills Till his horse hoofs did bleed.
28 There was a man in Lord Burnett's train Was ane o Munsgrove's kin, And aye as fast as the horsemen rade, Sae nimbly 's he did rin.
29 He set a horn to his mouth, And he blew loud and sma, And aye at every sounding's end, 'Awa, Munsgrove, awa!'
30 Then up it raise him Little Munsgrove, And drew to him his sheen; 'Lye still, lye still,' the lady she cried, 'Why get ye up sae seen?'
31 'I think I hear a horn blaw, And it blaws loud and sma; And aye at every sounding's end, Awa, Munsgrove, awa!'
32 'Lye still, lye still, ye Little Munsgrove, Had my back frae the wind; It's but my father's proud shepherd, Caing his hogs to town.'
33 'I think I hear a horn blaw, And it blaws loud and shrill, And aye at every sounding's end Bids Munsgrove take the hill.'
34 'Lye still, my boy, lye still, my sweet, Had my back frae the cauld; It's but the sugh o the westlin wind, Blawing ower the birks sae bauld.'
35 He turned him right and round about, And he fell fast asleep; When up it started Lord Burnett, And stood at their bed-feet.
36 'Is't for love o my blankets, Munsgrove? Or is't for love o my sheets? Or is't for love o my gay lady? Sae soun in your arms she sleeps!'
37 'It's nae for love o your blankets, my lord, Nor yet for love o your sheets; But wae be to your gay ladye, Sae soun in my arms she sleeps!'
38 'Win up, win up, ye Little Munsgrove, Put all your armour an; It's never be said anither day I killed a naked man.
39 'I hae twa brands in ae scabbard, Cost me merks twenty-nine; Take ye the best, gie me the warst, For ye're the weakest man.'
40 The first an stroke that Munsgrove drew Wounded Lord Burnett sair; The next an stroke Lord Burnett drew, Munsgrove he spake nae mair.
41 He turned him to his ladye then, And thus to her said he: 'All the time we've led our life I neer thought this o thee.
42 'How like ye now this well-faird face, That stands straight by your side? Or will ye hate this ill-faird face, Lyes weltering in his blude?'
43 'O better love I this well-faird face, Lyes weltering in his blude, Then eer I'll do this ill-faird face, That stands straight by my side.'
44 Then he's taen out a sharp dagger, It was baith keen and smart, And he has wounded that gay ladye A deep wound to the heart.
45 'A grave, a grave,' cried Lord Burnett, 'To bury these two in, And lay my ladye in the highest flat, She's chiefest o the kin.
46 'A grave, a grave,' said Lord Burnett, 'To bury these two in; Lay Munsgrove in the lowest flat, He's deepest in the sin.
47 'Ye'll darken my windows up secure, Wi staunchions round about, And there is not a living man Shall eer see me walk out.
48 'Nae mair fine clothes my body deck, Nor kame gang in my hair, Nor burning coal nor candle light Shine in my bower mair.'
M
Motherwell's Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. xx, XXI.
It fell upon a Martinmas time, When the nobles were a' drinking wine, That Little Mushiegrove to the kirk he did go, For to see the ladies come in.
N
Communicated by Miss Margaret Reburn, as heard in County Meath, Ireland, about 1860.
1 'How do you like my rug?' he said, 'And how do you like my sheets? And how do you like my false ladie, That lies in your arms asleep?'
2 'Well I like your rug my lord, And well I like your sheets; But better than all your fair ladie, That lies in my arms asleep.'
* * * * *
#A. a.#
3^2. in pale.
6^2. geight.
6^3. wilt wed.
9^2. or sinn.
17^3. thou fair.
29^3. on upper.
#b.#
1^4. Their masses and mattins.
2^2. _omits_ private.
3^2. pale.
3^4. among.
4^4. I have.
5^4. Yet word I never durst.
6^2. daintily bedight.
7^1. lady fair.
7^2. you shew.
7^4. will I.
8^1. All this was heard by.
8^3. Quo he, though I am my ladies page.
8^4. my lord.
9^2. Although I lose a limb.
9^3. whereas.
10^4. thy none.
11^4. _omits_ will.
14^3. when as the.
14^4. Away, thou little Musgrave.
15^3. Bernards horn.
16^4. to fold.
17^1. the perch.
17^3. thy fair.
18^2. lighted upon a stone.
19^4. Doest find my lady so sweet.
20^3. hunder'd pound.
21^4. That I killed.
25^3. not do.
25^4. Though I.
26^1. _omits_ That: heart.
27^2. ne're were.
28^2. on a.
#B.#
5^4. Musgerue.
_6 is written in the MS. after 8, but a marginal note by the scribe directs this stanza to be put two higher than it is written._ Furnivall.
8^4. awaw.
9^3. out 3.
11^2. _Between here and 12^3 half a page is gone._
13^4. all 3.
#C.#
#a.# The lamentable Ditty of Little Mousgrove and the Lady Barnet... London, printed for H. Gosson. _Stanzas of eight lines._
#b.# London: printed for J. Clark, W. Thackeray, and T. Passenger.
#c.# A Lamentable Ballad of the Little Musgrove and the Lady Barnet... London, printed for F. Coles, T. Vere, J. Wright, and J. Clarke.
#e.# London: printed by and for W. O., and are to be sold by the Booksellers.
#a.#
15^3. might lay.
_After_ 16: The second part.
#b., c.#
Musgrove _throughout_.
1^1. light _wanting_.
1^2. more be.
2^4. which did to the.
3^2. some came. #c.# pale.
3^3. The next: the lady.
3^4. #c.# among.
4^1. upon.
4^3. well thou perceived.
5^1. The: most _wanting_.
5^3. #b.# reply.
6^3. that you please.
7^2. my love.
8^1. #b.# my life: my death.
8^2. will lye.
8^4. #c.# my love to thee.
9^3. come.
9^4. While: doe _wanting_.
10^3. So he: doe _wanting_.
11^1. he said.
13^1. ran this.
13^3. #b.# He then.
13^3. his own.
14^2. #c.# he did.
14^4. bent his.
15^2. to the.
15^3. #b.# my say. #c.# may say.
16^2. there _wanting_. #c.# did make.
16^3. upon.
16^4. doth.
17^2. that thou. #b.# telst.
17^2. to _wanting_.
18^2. as _wanting_. #b.# to _wanting_.
18^3. shall be set up.
18^4. thou shalt.
19^2. thou hearest of. #c.# And a.
19^3. Never stay a pair of gallows to make. #b.# to _wanting_.
19^4. me on.
20^1. Lord Barnet calld his merry men all.
20^3. was so.
21^1. he said.
21^4. #b.# his deed.
22^1. to make no noise.
22^2. all... on _wanting_.
22^3. horn.
23^1. #c.# of them that.
23^3. him notice: was come.
23^4. wind the.
24^1. did sound.
24^3. if he.
26^4. into the.
27^3. awake: did espy. #b.# then he.
27^4. the beds.
28^2. cloathing.
28^3. #c.# never shall.
28^3. England fair.
28^4. That I.
29^1. #b.# Here is two swords.
29^2. #c.# The choice: Musgrove shall.
29^3. shall.
30^1. good _wanting_.
30^{1, 3}. that _wanting_.
31^2. did _wanting_.
31^3. And with: furious wise.
32^4. she's the better skin: #c.# she is.
33^2. #b.# grieved. #c.# grievd.
33^3. #c.# death of these worthy.
34^1. #c.# mischief.
34^3. #b.# shun the.
34^4. And fly from sin.
#d.#
1^1. a high.
9^1. with this.
11^3. counsel, Madam.
21^2. my milk-white.
23^4. wind his bugle horn clear.
33^3. these three lovely.
#e.#
1^1. a high.
1^3. Little _wanting_.
3^3. Then next.
8^1. my life: my death.
13^3. He then.
15^3. might tell to.
19^2. that _wanting_.
26^4. unto the.
28^2. an _for_ on.
29^1. Here is two.
29^2. Musgrove thy choice now make.
31^3. most _wanting_.
34^3. shun the.
#E.#
10^1. this tidings.
12^3. Banburry.
15^3. It neer.
18^2. struck her.
19^4. wud: (with it) _in margin_.
#G.#
10^1. (cam) to the green wood cam.
#H.#
13^1. Oh.
#I.#
9^3. old word.
#K.#
2^1. _Corrupt_: cf. #A#4, #C#4, #D#2, _etc._
13^2. lay slain.
#L.#
9^4 On.
48^1. decks.
[136] #C a# was most obligingly copied, and #C b# collated, for me by Professor Skeat with his own hand.
[137] #L#, one of two copies in Buchan's MSS, would certainly have been but the slightest loss if omitted, as another, MSS II, 152, being a broadside made over for the stalls, has been.
[138] Pagani appellati interdum infantes quorum certis ex causis differebatur baptismus; Ducange, s. v. Pagani, who cites, Infans infirmus et paganus commendatus presbytero, etc. Ethnicus was used in the same way.
82
THE BONNY BIRDY
Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 42; Jamieson's Popular Ballads, I, 162.
Jamieson, in printing this ballad, gave the husband the name Lord Randal, made many changes, and introduced several stanzas, "to fill up chasms." But the chasms, such as they are, are easily leapt by the imagination, and Jamieson's interpolations are mere bridges of carpenter's work. The admirably effective burden is taken into the story at stanza 11. As Jamieson remoulds the ballad, it is no burden, but a part of the dialogue throughout.
The main part of the action is the same as in 'Little Musgrave.' The superior lyrical quality of the Scottish ballad makes up for its inferiority as a story, so that on the whole it cannot be prized much lower than the noble English ballad.
* * * * *
Cunningham has rewritten the ballad in his own style, pretending, as often, to have known another recited copy: 'Sir Hugh,' Songs of Scotland, II, 130.
1 There was a knight, in a summer's night, Was riding oer the lee, diddle An there he saw a bonny birdy, Was singing upon a tree. diddle O wow for day! diddle An dear gin it were day! diddle Gin it were day, an gin I were away! For I ha na lang time to stay. diddle
2 'Make hast, make hast, ye gentle knight, What keeps you here so late? Gin ye kent what was doing at hame, I fear you woud look blate.'
3 'O what needs I toil day an night, My fair body to kill, Whan I hae knights at my comman, An ladys at my will?'
4 'Ye lee, ye lee, ye gentle knight, Sa loud's I hear you lee; Your lady's a knight in her arms twa That she lees far better nor the.'
5 'Ye lee, you lee, you bonny birdy, How you lee upo my sweet! I will tak out my bonny bow, An in troth I will you sheet.'
6 'But afore ye hae your bow well bent, An a' your arrows yare, I will flee till another tree, Whare I can better fare.'
7 'O whare was you gotten, and whare was ye clecked? My bonny birdy, tell me:' 'O I was clecked in good green wood, Intill a holly tree; A gentleman my nest herryed, An ga me to his lady.
8 'Wi good white bread an farrow-cow milk He bade her feed me aft, An ga her a little wee simmer-dale wanny, To ding me sindle and saft.
9 'Wi good white bread an farrow-cow milk I wot she fed me nought, But wi a little wee simmer-dale wanny She dang me sair an aft: Gin she had deen as ye her bade, I woudna tell how she has wrought.'
10 The knight he rade, and the birdy flew, The live-lang simmer's night, Till he came till his lady's bowr-door, Then even down he did light: The birdy sat on the crap of a tree, An I wot it sang fu dight.
11 'O wow for day! diddle An dear gin it were day! diddle Gin it were day, an gin I were away! For I ha na lang time to stay.' diddle
12 'What needs ye lang for day, diddle. An wish that you were away? diddle Is no your hounds i my cellar, Eating white meal an gray?' diddle O wow, etc.
13 'Is nae your steed in my stable, Eating good corn an hay? An is nae your hawk i my perch-tree, Just perching for his prey? An is nae yoursel i my arms twa? Then how can ye lang for day?'
14 'O wow for day! diddle An dear gin it were day! diddle For he that's in bed wi anither man's wife Has never lang time to stay.' diddle
15 Then out the knight has drawn his sword, An straiked it oer a strae, An thro and thro the fa'se knight's waste He gard cauld iron gae: An I hope ilk ane sal sae be servd That treats ane honest man sae.
* * * * *
_The burden stands thus in the manuscript after the first stanza_:
O wow for day, diddle An dear gin it were day, diddle Gin it were day, diddle I were away, For I ha na lang time to stay. diddle
13^1. nae you. (?)
83
CHILD MAURICE
#A.# 'Childe Maurice,' Percy MS., p. 346; Hales and Furnivall, II, 502.
#B.# 'Child Noryce,' Motherwell's MS., p. 255; Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 282.
#C.# 'Bob Norice,' Motherwell's MS., p. 510.
#D.# 'Gill Morice,' Motherwell's MS., p. 480.
#E.# 'Chield Morice,' Motherwell's MS., p. 165; Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 269.
#F. a.# 'Gil Morrice,' Percy's Reliques, III, 93, 1765. #b.# Letter of T. Gray, June, 1757 (?).
#G.# Jamieson's Popular Ballads, I, 18, three stanzas; Jamieson, in The Scots Magazine, 1803, LXV, 698, two stanzas.
#A# was printed from the Percy manuscript by Jamieson, in his Popular Ballads, I, 8. Of #B# Motherwell says, 1827: "By testimony of a most unexceptionable description, but which it would be tedious here to detail, the editor can distinctly trace this ballad as existing in its present shape at least a century ago."
In his preface to the copy of the ballad in the Reliques of Ancient Poetry (#F#), Percy remarks: "The following piece has lately run through two editions in Scotland, the second printed at Glasgow in 1755, 8vo. Prefixed to them both is an advertisement, setting forth that the preservation of this poem was owing 'to a lady, who favored the printers with a copy as it was carefully collected from the mouths of old women and nurses;' and 'any reader that can render it more correct or complete' is desired to oblige the public with such improvements. In consequence of this advertisement sixteen additional verses have been produced and handed about in manuscript, which are here inserted in their proper places." The copy printed in 1755[139] and earlier had already "received very considerable modern improvements," as Percy goes on to say, the most noticeable of which is a conclusion of eight stanzas, in the taste of the middle of the last century. These, as also the four stanzas which had been handed about in manuscript, are omitted from this reprint.
Home's tragedy of Douglas, produced in Edinburgh in 1756, was founded upon the story of Gil Morice, and the popularity of the play seems to have given vogue to the ballad.[140] The sophisticated copy passed into recitation, and may very likely have more or less infected those which were repeated from earlier tradition. An old woman (Mrs Thomson, the reciter of #E#), who was born about the time when the ballad was printed, told Motherwell that she had learned 'Chield Morice' in her infancy from her grandmother, but at a later period of her life committed to memory 'Gil Morice,' "which began, with young lasses like her, to be a greater favorite and more fashionable than the set which her grandmother and old folks used to sing."[141]
Gray writes to Mason, June, 1757 (?): "I have got the old Scotch ballad on which Douglas was founded; it is divine, and as long as from hence [Cambridge] to Aston."[142] He cites the first fifteen lines.
The copy in Smith's Scottish Minstrel, III, 106, is Herd's (Percy's), with omissions and changes. 'Child Nourice,' a fragment, in Buchan's MSS, I, 143, is of recent make.
The name of Barnard, a name, says Aytoun, quite foreign to Scotland, may have been adopted from 'Little Musgrave.' There is a marked similarity in the conclusion of the two ballads.
Aytoun, in his compilation, I, 147, 149, rejects the two stanzas, #F# 13, 14, beginning, "And when he came to broken brigue," as taken from 'Lady Maisry.' These stanzas are the most favorite of all commonplaces, and belong as much to one ballad as another. They occur in one version or another of 'Lord Ingram,' 'Little Musgrave,' 'The Clerk's Twa Sons,' etc., and wearisomely often in the ballads in Buchan's collection.
The popularity of 'Gil Morice' since the middle of the last century has caused the story to be localized. The green wood, says Motherwell, was believed to be "the ancient forest of Dundaff, in Stirlingshire, and Lord Barnard's castle to have occupied a precipitous cliff overhanging the Water of Carron, on the lands of Halbertshire." Gil Morice, "according to the unvarying traditions of the country, was remarkable for the extreme length and loveliness of his yellow hair." Motherwell considers that the embellishments of the ballad may have been suggested by these traditions. But why should not these traditions have been derived from the embellished ballad? There had already been nearly fourscore years for them to grow up at the date of the publication of his Minstrelsy.
* * * * *
#B# is translated by Wolff, Halle der Völker, I, 11, Hausschatz, p. 222; #F# by Loève-Veimars, p. 316, with some retrenchment; Allingham's copy by Knortz, Lieder u. Romanzen Alt-Englands, No 31.
A
Percy MS., p. 346; Hales and Furnivall, II, 502.
1 Childe Maurice hunted ithe siluer wood, He hunted itt round about, And noebodye _tha_t he ffound therin, Nor none there was w_i_th-out.
2 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . And he tooke his siluer combe in his hand, To kembe his yellow lockes.
3 He sayes, Come hither, thou litle ffoot-page, _Tha_t runneth lowlye by my knee, Ffor thou shalt goe to Iohn Stewards wiffe And pray her speake w_i_th mee.
4 ' . . . . . . . . . . . . . . I, and greete thou doe _tha_t ladye well, Euer soe well ffroe mee.
5 'And, as itt ffalls, as many times As knotts beene knitt on a kell, Or marchant men gone to leeue London, Either to buy ware or sell.
6 'And, as itt ffalles, as many times As any hart can thinke, Or schoole-masters are in any schoole-house, Writting w_i_th pen and inke: Ffor if I might, as well as shee may, This night I wold w_i_th her speake.
7 'And heere I send her a mantle of greene, As greene as any grasse, And bidd her come to the siluer wood, To hunt w_i_th Child Maurice.
8 'And there I send her a ring of gold, A ring of p_re_cyous stone, And bidd her come to the siluer wood, Let ffor no kind of man.'
9 One while this litle boy he yode, Another while he ran, Vntill he came to Iohn Stewards hall, I-wis he neuer blan.
10 And of nurture the child had good, Hee ran vp hall and bower ffree, And when he came to this lady ffaire, Sayes, God you saue and see!
11 'I am come ffrom Ch[i]ld Maurice, A message vnto thee; And Child Maurice, he greetes you well, And euer soe well ffrom mee.
12 'And, as itt ffalls, as oftentimes As knotts beene knitt on a kell, Or marchant-men gone to leeue London, Either ffor to buy ware or sell.
13 'And as oftentimes he greetes you well As any hart can thinke, Or schoolem_aster_s [are] in any schoole, Wryting w_i_th pen and inke.
14 'And heere he sends a mantle of greene, As greene as any grasse, And he bidds you come to the siluer wood, To hunt w_i_th Child Maurice.
15 'And heere he sends you a ring of gold, A ring of the p_re_cyous stone; He prayes you to come to the siluer wood, Let ffor no kind of man.'
16 'Now peace, now peace, thou litle ffoot-page, Ffor Christes sake, I pray thee! Ffor if my lo_rd_ heare one of these words, Thou must be hanged hye!'
17 Iohn Steward stood vnder the castle-wall, And he wrote the words euerye one, . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
18 And he called vnto his hors-keep_er_, 'Make readye you my steede!' I, and soe hee did to his chamberlaine, 'Make readye thou my weede!'
19 And he cast a lease vpon his backe, And he rode to the siluer wood, And there he sought all about, About the siluer wood.
20 And there he ffound him Child Maurice Sitting vpon a blocke, W_i_th a siluer combe in his hand, Kembing his yellow locke[s.]
* * * * * * *
21 But then stood vp him Child Maurice, And sayd these words trulye: 'I doe not know yo_u_r ladye,' he said, 'If _tha_t I doe her see.'
22 He sayes, How now, how now, Child Maurice? Alacke, how may this bee? Ffor thou hast sent her loue-tokens, More now then two or three.
23 'Ffor thou hast sent her a mantle of greene, As greene as any grasse, And bade her come to the siluer woode, To hunt w_i_th Child Maurice.
24 'And thou [hast] sent her a ring of gold, A ring of p_re_cyous stone, And bade her come to the siluer wood, Let ffor noe kind of man.
25 'And by my ffaith, now, Child Maurice, The tone of vs shall dye!' 'Now be my troth,' sayd Child Maurice, 'And _tha_t shall not be I.'
26 But hee pulled forth a bright browne sword, And dryed itt on the grasse, And soe ffast he smote att Iohn Steward, I-wisse he neuer [did] rest.
27 Then hee pulled fforth his bright browne sword, And dryed itt on his sleeue, And the ffirst good stroke Iohn Stewart stroke, Child Maurice head he did cleeue.
28 And he pricked itt on his swords poynt, Went singing there beside, And he rode till he came to _tha_t ladye ffaire, Wheras this ladye lyed.
29 And sayes, Dost thou know Child Maurice head, If _tha_t thou dost itt see? And lapp itt soft, and kisse itt offt, Ffor thou louedst him better than mee.'
30 But when shee looked on Child Maurice head, Shee neuer spake words but three: 'I neuer beare no child but one, And you haue slaine him trulye.'
31 Sayes, Wicked be my merrymen all, I gaue meate, drinke, and clothe! But cold they not haue holden me When I was in all _tha_t wrath!
32 'Ffor I haue slaine one of the curteousest k_nigh_ts _Tha_t euer bestrode a steed, Soe haue I done one [of] the fairest ladyes _Tha_t euer ware womans weede!'
B
Motherwell's MS., p. 255; Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 282. From the singing of Widow McCormick, Paisley, January 19, 1825. Learned by her of an old woman in Dumbarton: Motherwell's Note Book, fol. 4.
1 Child Noryce is a clever young man, He wavers wi the wind; His horse was silver-shod before, With the beaten gold behind.
2 He called to his little man John, Saying, You don't see what I see; For O yonder I see the very first woman That ever loved me.
3 'Here is a glove, a glove,' he said, 'Lined with the silver grey; You may tell her to come to the merry green-wood, To speak to Child Nory.
4 'Here is a ring, a ring,' he says, 'It's all gold but the stane; You may tell her to come to the merry green-wood, And ask the leave o nane.'
5 'So well do I love your errand, my master, But far better do I love my life; O would ye have me go to Lord Barnard's castle, To betray away his wife?'
6 'O don't I give you meat,' he says, 'And don't I pay you fee? How dare you stop my errand?' he says; 'My orders you must obey.'
7 O when he came to Lord Bernard's castle, He tinkled at the ring; Who was as ready as Lord Barnard himself To let this little boy in?
8 'Here is a glove, a glove,' he says, 'Lined with the silver grey; You are bidden to come to the merry green-wood, To speak to Child Nory.
9 'Here is a ring, a ring,' he says, 'It's all gold but the stane; You are bidden to come to the merry green-wood, And ask the leave o nane.'
10 Lord Barnard he was standing by, And an angry man was he: 'O little did I think there was a lord in the world My lady loved but me!'
11 O he dressed himself in the holland smock, And garments that was gay, And he is away to the merry green-wood, To speak to Child Nory.
12 Child Noryce sits on yonder tree, He whistles and he sings: 'O wae be to me,' says Child Noryce, 'Yonder my mother comes!'
13 Child Noryce he came off the tree, His mother to take off the horse: 'Och alace, alace,' says Child Noryce, 'My mother was neer so gross!'
14 Lord Barnard he had a little small sword, That hung low down by his knee; He cut the head off Child Noryce, And put the body on a tree.
15 And when he came home to his castell, And to his ladie's hall, He threw the head into her lap, Saying, Lady, there's a ball!
16 She turned up the bloody head, She kissed it frae cheek to chin: 'Far better do I love this bloody head Than all my royal kin.
17 'When I was in my father's castel, In my virginity, There came a lord into the North, Gat Child Noryce with me.'
18 'O wae be to thee, Lady Margaret,' he sayd, 'And an ill death may you die; For if you had told me he was your son, He had neer been slain by me.'
C
Motherwell's MS., p. 510, from the singing of Mrs Storie, wife of William Storie, laborer, Lochwinnoch. A song of Mrs Storie's grandmother.
1 Bob Norice is to the grein-wud gane, He is awa wi the wind; His horse is siller-shod afore, In the shynand gowd ahind.
2 He said unto his wee boy John, I sie what ye dinna sie; I see the [first] woman that I eer luvit, Or ever luvit me.
3 'Gae tak to hir this pair o gluvis, They're o the siller-gray, And tell her to cum to the merrie grein-wud An speik to Bob Norice.
4 'Gae tak to her this gay gowd ring, And it's aw gowd but the stane, And tell her to cum to the merrie grein-wud, And ask the leive o nane.
5 'Gae tak to her this braw manteil, It's a' silk but the sleive, And tell her to cum to the merrie green-wud, And ax nae bauld Barnet's leive.'
6 'I daurna gang to Lord Barnet's castel, I daurna gang for my lyfe; I daurna gang to Lord Barnet's castell, To twyne him o his wife.'
7 'Do I nae pay you gowd?' he said, 'Do I nae pay you fee? How daur you stand my bidding, Sir, Whan I bid you to flee?'
8 'Gif I maun gang to Lord Barnet's castel, Sae sair agane my will, I vow a vow, and I do protest, It sall be dune for ill.'
9 But whan he came to Lord Barnet's castel He tinklet at the ring; Tha war nane sae ready as Lord Barnet himsell To let the wee calland in.
10 'What news, what news, my bonnie wee boy? What news hae ye to me?' 'Nae news, nae news, Lord Barnet,' he said, 'But your ladie I fain would see.
11 'Here is a pair o gluves to her, Thay'r o the silver gray; And tell her to cum to the merrie green-wud, And speik to Bob Norice.
12 'Here is a gay gowd ring to her, It's aw gowd but the stane; And she maun cum to the merrie green-wud, And speir the leive o nane.
13 'Here is a gay manteil to her, It's aw silk but the sleive; And she maun cum to the merrie grein-wud, And ask not bauld Barnet's leive.'
14 Then out bespack the yellow nurse, Wi the babie on her knee, Sayand, Gif thay be cum frae Bob Norice, They are welcum to me.
15 'O haud your tung, ye yellow nurse, Aloud an I heir ye lie; For they're to Lord Barnet's lady, I trew that this be she.'
16 Lord Barnet's to a dressing-room, And buskt him in woman's array, And he's awa to the merrie green-wud, To speik to Bob Norrice.
17 Bob Norrice he sits on a tree, He is whissland and singand; Says, Merrie, merrie may my hert be, I see my mither cumand.
18 Bob Norice he cam doun frae the trie, To help his mother to licht fra her horss; 'Och alace, alace,' says Bob Norice, 'My mither was neer sae gross!'
19 Lord Barnet had a not-brown sword, That hung down by his knee, And he has cut Bob Norice heid Aff frae his fair bodie.
20 He tuke the bluidy head in his hand, And he brocht it to the ha, And flang it into his lady's lap, Sayand, Lady, there is a ba!
21 She took the bluidy heid in her hand, And kisst it frae cheik to chin, Sayand, Better I lyke that well faurit face Nor aw my royal kin.
22 'Whan I was in my father's bour, A' in my dignity, An Englis lord a visit came, Gat Bob Norice wi me.'
23 Then out bespak Lord Barnet syne, And a wae, wae man was he, Sayand, Gif I had kent he was your son, He wuld neer been killit be me.
D
Motherwell's MS., p. 480, from the recitation of Widow Michael, a very old woman, as learned by her in Banffshire seventy years before. August, 1826.
1 Gill Morice stood in stable-door, With red gold shined his weed; A bonnie boy him behind, Dressing a milk-white steed.
2 'Woe's me for you, maister, Your name it waxes wide; It is not for your rich, rich robes, Nor for your meikle pride, But all is for yon lord's ladie, She lives on Ithan side.'
3 'Here's to thee, my bonnie wee boy, That I pay meat and fee; You will run on to Ithan side An errand unto me.'
4 'If ye gar me that errand run, Sae sair against my will, I'll make a vow, and keep it true, I'll do your errand ill.'
5 'I fear nae ill of thee, boy, I fear nae ill of thee; I fearna ill of my bonnie boy, My sister's son are ye.
6 'Ye'll tak here this green manteel, It's lined with the frieze; Ye'll bid her come to gude green-wood, To talk with Gill Morice.
7 'Ye'll tak here this sark o silk, Her ain hand sewed the sleeve; Ye'll bid her come to gude green-wood, And ask not Burnard's leave.'
8 When he gade to Ithan side They were hailing at the ba, And four and twenty gay ladyes They lookd ower castle wa.
9 'God mak you safe, you ladies all, God mak you safe and sure; But Burnard's lady amang you all, My errand is to her.
10 'Ye'll tak here this green manteel, It's a' lined wi the frieze; Ye're bidden come to gude green-wood And speak to Gill Morice.
11 'Ye'll tak here this sark of silk, Your ain hand sewed the sleeve; Ye're bidden come to gude green-wood, And ask not Burnard's leave.'
12 Up it stood the little nurice, She winked with her ee: 'Welcome, welcome, bonnie boy, With luve-tidings to me.
13 'Ye lie, ye lie, ye false nurice, Sae loud's I hear ye lie; It's to the lady of the house, I'm sure ye are not shee.'
14 Then out and spoke him bold Burnard, Behind the door stood he: 'I'll go unto gude green-wood, And see what he may be.
15 'Come, bring to me the gowns of silk, Your petticoats so small, And I'll go on to gude green-wood, I'll try with him a fall.'
16 Gill Morice stood in gude green-wood, He whistled and he sang: 'I think I see the woman come That I have loved lang.'
17 'What now, what now, ye Gill Morice, What now, and how do ye? How lang hae ye my lady luved? This day come tell to me.'
18 'First when I your lady loved, In green-wood amang the thyme, I wot she was my first fair love Or ever she was thine.
19 'First when I your lady loved, In green-wood amang the flouirs, I wot she was my first fair love Or ever she was yours.'
20 He's taen out a lang, lang brand That he was used to wear, And he's taen aff Gill Morice head, And put it on a spear: The soberest boy in a' the court Gill Morice head did bear.
21 He's put it in a braid basin, And brocht it in the ha, And laid it in his lady's lap; Said, Lady, tak a ba!
22 'Play ye, play ye, my lady,' he said, 'Play ye frae ha to bower; Play ye wi Gill Morice head, He was your paramour.'
23 'He was not my paramour, He was my son indeed; I got him in my mother's bower, And in my maiden-weed.
24 'I got him in my mother's bower, Wi meikle sin and shame; I brocht him up in good green-wood, Got mony a shower o rain.
25 'But I will kiss his bluidy head, And I will clap his chin; I'll make a vow, and keep it true, I'll never kiss man again.
26 'Oftimes I by his cradle sat, And fond to see him sleep; But I may walk about his grave, The saut tears for to weep.'
27 'Bring cods, bring cods to my ladye, Her heart is full of wae;' 'None of your cods, Burnet,' she says, 'But lay me on the strae.'
28 'Pox on you, my lady fair, That wudna telled it me; If I had known he was your son, He had not been slain by me; And for ae penny ye wud hae gien I wud hae gien him three.'
29 'Keep weel your land, Burnet,' she said, 'Your land and white monie; There's land eneuch in Norroway Lies heirless I wot the day.'
30 The one was killed in the mornin air, His mother died at een, And or the mornin bells was rung The threesome were a' gane.
E
Motherwell's MS., p. 165; Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 269. From the recitation of Mrs Thomson, Kilbarchan, seventy years of age, as learned from her mother at the Water of Leven, Dumbarton, when she was ten years old. March, 1825.
1 Chield Morrice was an earl's son, His name it waxed wide; It was nae for his parentage, Nor yet his meikle pride, But it was for a lady gay, That lived on Carron side.
2 'O Willie, my man, my errand gang, And you maun rin wi speed; When other boys run on their feet, On horseback ye shall ride.
3 'O master dear, I love you weel, And I love you as my life, But I will not go to Lord Barnard's ha, For to tryst forth his wife.
4 'For the baron he's a man of might, He neer could bide a taunt, And ye shall see or it be late How meikle ye'll hae to vaunt.'
5 'O you must rin my errand, Willie, And you must rin wi speed, And if you don't obey my high command I'll gar your body bleed.
6 'And here it is a gay manteel, It's a' gowd but the hem; Bid her come speak to Chield Morice, Bring naebody but her lane.
7 'And here it is a holland smock, Her own hand sewed the sleeve; Bid her come speak to Chield Morice, Ask not the baron's leave.'
8 'Since I must run this errand for you, So sore against my will, I've made a vow, and I'll keep it true, It shall be done for ill.'
9 For he did not ask the porter's leave, Tho he stood at the gate, But straight he ran to the big hall, Where great folk sat at meat.
10 'Good hallow, gentle sir and dame, My errand canna wait; Dame, ye must go speak to Chield Morice, Before it be too late.
11 'And here it is a gay manteel, It's a' goud but the hem; Ye must come speak to Child Morice, Bring nae body but your lane.
12 'And here it is a holland smock, Your ain hand sewed the sleeve; You must come speak to Chield Morice, Ask not the baron's leave.'
13 O aye she stamped wi her foot, And winked wi her ee, But a' that she could say or do, Forbidden he wad na be.
14 'It's surely to my bouir-woman, It canna be to me:' 'I brocht it to Lord Barnard's lady, And I trow that thou art she.'
15 Out then spak the wylie nurse, Wi the bairn just on her knee: 'If this be come fra Chield Morice, It's dear welcome to me.'
16 'Thou lies, thou lies, thou wylie nurse, Sae loud's I hear thee lie; I brought it to Lord Barnard's lady, And I trow thou binna she.'
17 Then up and rose him the bold baron, And an angry man was he; He took the table wi his foot, And keppd it wi his knee, Till silver cup and ezar dish In flinders they did flee.
18 'Go bring me one of thy cleeding, That hings upon the pin, And I'll awa to the good green-wood, And crack wi your leman.'
19 'I would have you stay at home, Lord Barnard, I would have you stay at home; Never wyte a man for violence douce That never thought you wrong.'
20 And when he to the green-wood went, No body saw he there But Chield Morice, on a milk-white steed, Combing down his yellow hair.
21 Chield Morice sat in the gay green-wood, He whistled and he sang: 'O what means a' thir folks coming? My mother tarries lang.'
22 'No wonder, no wonder, Chield Morice,' he said, 'My lady loved thee weel; For the whitest bit of my body Is blacker than thy heel.
23 'But nevertheless now, Chield Morice, For a' thy gay beautie, O nevertheless, Chield Morice, Thy head shall go with me.'
24 He had a rapier by his side, Hung low down by his knee; He struck Chield Morrice on the neck, Till aff his head did flee.
25 Then he's taen up that bloody head, And stuck it on a spear, And the meanest man in a' his train Gat Chield Morice head to bear.
26 The lady looked owre the castle-wa, Wi meikle dool and down, And there she saw Chield Morice head, Coming trailing to the town.
27 But he's taen up this bluidy head, And dashed it gainst the wa: 'Come down, come down, you ladies fair, And play at this foot-ba.'
28 Then she's taen up this bluidy head, And she kissed it both cheek and chin: 'I would rather hae a kiss o that bluidy head Than a' thy earldom.
29 'I got him in my father's bouir, Wi meikle sin and shame, And I brought him up in gay green-wood, Beneath the heavy rain.
30 'Many a day have I rockd thy cradle, And fondly seen thee sleep, But now I'll go about thy grave, And sore, sore will I weep.'
31 'O woe be to thee, thou wild woman, And an ill deid may thou die! For if ye had tauld me he was your son, He should hae ridden and gane wi me.'
32 'O hold your tongue, you bold baron, And an ill death may ye die! He had lands and rents enew of his ain, He needed nane fra thee.'
33 'Then I'll curse the hand that did the deed, The heart that thought him ill, The feet that carried me speedilie This comely youth to kill.'
34 This lady she died gin ten o'clock, Lord Barnard died gin twall, And bonnie boy now, Sweet Willie, What's come o him I canna tell.
F
#a.# Percy's Reliques, III, 93, 1765. #b.# Letter of T. Gray to Mason, June, 1757 (?): Gray's Works, ed. Gosse, II, 316.
1 Gil Morrice was an erles son, His name it waxed wide; It was nae for his great riches, Nor yet his mickle pride, Bot it was for a lady gay, That livd on Carron side.
2 'Whair sall I get a bonny boy, That will win hose and shoen, That will gae to Lord Barnard's ha, And bid his lady cum?
3 'And ye maun rin errand, Willie, And ye may rin wi pride; When other boys gae on their foot, On horseback ye sall ride.'
4 'O no! Oh no! my master dear, I dare nae for my life; I'll no gae to the bauld baron's, For to triest furth his wife.'
5 'My bird Willie, my boy Willie, My dear Willie,' he sayd, 'How can ye strive against the stream? For I sall be obeyd.'
6 'Bot, O my master dear,' he cry'd, 'In grene-wod ye're your lain; Gi owre sic thochts, I walde ye rede, For fear ye should be tain.'
7 'Haste, haste, I say, gae to the ha, Bid hir cum here wi speid; If ye refuse my heigh command, I'll gar your body bleid.
8 'Gae bid hir take this gay mantel, 'Tis a' gowd but the hem; Bid hir cum to the gude grene-wode, And bring nane bot hir lain.
9 'And there it is, a silken sarke, Hir ain hand sewd the sleive; And bid hir cum to Gill Morice, Speir nae bauld baron's leave.'
10 'Yes, I will gae your black errand, Though it be to your cost; Sen ye by me will nae be warnd, In it ye sall find frost.
11 'The baron he's a man of might, He neir could bide to taunt; As ye will see, before it's nicht, How sma ye hae to vaunt.
12 'And sen I maun your errand rin, Sae sair against my will, I'se mak a vow, and keip it trow, It sall be done for ill.'
13 And when he came to broken brigue, He bent his bow and swam; And when [he] came to grass growing, Set down his feet and ran.
14 And when he came to Barnard's ha, Would neither chap nor ca, Bot set his bent bow to his breist, And lichtly lap the wa.
15 He wauld nae tell the man his errand, Though he stude at the gait; Bot straiht into the ha he cam, Whair they were set at meit.
16 'Hail! hail! my gentle sire and dame, My message winna waite; Dame, ye maun to the gude grene-wod, Before that it be late.
17 'Ye're bidden tak this gay mantel, 'Tis a' gowd bot the hem; You maun gae to the gude grene-wode, Evn by your sel alane.
18 'And there it is, a silken sarke, Your ain hand sewd the sleive; Ye maun gae speik to Gill Morice, Speir nae bauld baron's leave.'
19 The lady stamped wi hir foot, And winked wi hir ee; But a' that she coud say or do, Forbidden he wad nae bee.
20 'It's surely to my bowr-woman; It neir could be to me:' 'I brocht it to Lord Barnard's lady; I trow that ye be she.'
21 Then up and spack the wylie nurse, The bairn upon hir knee: 'If it be cum frae Gill Morice, It's deir welcum to mee.'
22 'Ye leid, ye leid, ye filthy nurse, Sae loud's I heire ye lee; I brocht it to Lord Barnard's lady; I trow ye be nae shee.'
23 Then up and spack the bauld baron, An angry man was hee; He's tain the table wi his foot, Sae has he wi his knee, Till siller cup and ezar dish In flinders he gard flee.
24 'Gae bring a robe of your cliding, That hings upon the pin, And I'll gae to the gude grene-wode, And speik wi your lemman.'
25 'O bide at hame, now, Lord Barnard, I warde ye bide at hame; Neir wyte a man for violence That neir wate ye wi nane.'
26 Gil Morice sate in gude grene-wode, He whistled and he sang: 'O what mean a' the folk coming? My mother tarries lang.'
27 The baron came to the grene-wode, Wi mickle dule and care, And there he first spied Gill Morice, Kameing his yellow hair.
28 'Nae wonder, nae wonder, Gill Morice, My lady loed thee weel; The fairest part of my body Is blacker than thy heel.
29 'Yet neir the less now, Gill Morice, For a' thy great bewty, Ye's rew the day ye eir was born; That head sall gae wi me.'
30 Now he has drawn his trusty brand, And slaited on the strae, And thro Gill Morice fair body He's gard cauld iron gae.
31 And he has tain Gill Morice head, And set it on a speir; The meanest man in a' his train Has gotten that head to bear.
32 And he has tain Gill Morice up, Laid him across his steid, And brocht him to his painted bowr, And laid him on a bed.
33 The lady sat on castil-wa, Beheld baith dale and doun, And there she saw Gill Morice head Cum trailing to the toun.
34 'Far better I loe that bluidy head, Bot and that yellow hair, Than Lord Barnard, and a' his lands, As they lig here and thair.'
35 And she has tain hir Gill Morice, And kissd baith mouth and chin: 'I was once as fow of Gill Morice As the hip is o the stean.
36 'I got ye in my father's house, Wi mickle sin and shame; I brocht thee up in gude green-wode, Under the heavy rain.
37 'Oft have I by thy cradle sitten, And fondly seen thee sleip; Bot now I gae about thy grave, The saut tears for to weip.'
38 And syne she kissd his bluidy cheik, And syne his bluidy chin: 'O better I loe my Gill Morice Than a' my kith and kin!'
39 'Away, away, ye ill woman, And an il deith mait ye dee! Gin I had kend he'd bin your son, He'd neir bin slain for mee.'
G
Jamieson's Popular Ballads, I, 18; Jamieson, in The Scots Magazine, 1803, LXV, 698, stanzas 1, 3.
1 Gil Morrice sat in silver wood, He whistled and he sang: 'Whar sall I get a bonny boy My errand for to gang?'
2 He ca'd his foster-brither Willie: 'Come, win ye hose and shoon, And gae unto Lord Barnard's ha, And bid his lady come.'
* * * * * * *
3 And she has taen the bloody head, And cast it i the brim, Syne gathered up her robes o green, And fast she followed him.
* * * * *
#A.#
1^1. siluen: _compare 7^3, 8^3, 14^3, 15^3, etc._
2^{3, 4}. _In the MS., these go with 3: compare 20._
3^2. rumeth.
4^{3, 4}. _These precede what is printed as 6._
5^1, 6^1, 12^1. out many.
6^3. as schoole masters: _compare 13^3._
6^{5, 6}. _These lines may be the last half of a stanza. There is nothing corresponding in the page's repetition of his master's message._
17^{1, 2}. _Joined in the MS. with 18._
18^4. then my.
21. _At least one stanza must be lost after 20._
22^{1, 2} _precede 21, and 22^{3, 4} make a stanza with 21^{3, 4}: the order being 22^{1, 2}, 21, 22^{3, 4}._
22^4. 2 or 3.
26^1. _Only half the ~n~ in the MS. Furnivall._
30^2. but 3.
32^1. curteouset.
And _for_ & _throughout._
#B.#
2^3. For _is a later insertion._
2^3, 6^1. Oh.
6^{1, 2}. _Originally_, O do I not, And do I not.
9^3. to go to: come _written over_ go.
13^2, 14^3. of.
14^2. That _is a later insertion._
18^2. And _is a later insertion._
18^4. _Originally_, He should neer have been.
#C.#
"This ballad was forwarded to me by my good friend Andrew Crawfurd, of John's Hill, Lochwinnoch. He wrote it from the recitation of Mrs Storie, wife of William Storie, laborer, in Lochwinnoch. It was a song of Mrs Storie's grandmother. It is queried if this should not be Babe Norice.... The interlineary corrections were made in consequence of Mrs Storie singing the ballad over to myself." _Motherwell. The interlineary corrections have been adopted. The earlier readings follow._
Barnard _for_ Barnet.
5^4. speir nae bauld baron's.
6^1. Barnard's ha.
8^3. and I doubly vow.
10^1. wee lad.
12^1. gay _wanting._
13^1. braw manteil.
13^4. nae bauld baron's.
16^1. to a busking gane.
16^2. drest him.
19^1. Barnard liftit his.
19^3. has sneddit.
19^4. And aff frae his bodie.
20^4. lady _wanting._
_The affected spelling I suppose to be Crawfurd's._
7^4, 9^1. quhan.
_In the Appendix to his Minstrelsy, p. xvii, Motherwell adopts the reading ~Babe Norice~ in 1^1, and prints ~burning gowd~ in 1^4._
#D.#
"This copy is from the recitation of Margaret Paterson, _alias_ widow Michael, a very old woman residing at Dovecote Ha, Barhead. She is a native of Banffshire, and learned the ballad there in her infancy. She mentions that she has heard it sung with many variations, but this copy was considered to be the right way. It is seventy years since she committed it to her memory. 4th August, 1826." _Motherwell._
#E.#
_In his Minstrelsy, p. 269, Motherwell says that the reciter learned the ballad from her grandmother. He goes on to say:_ She mentions that at a later period of her life she also committed to memory 'Gill Morice,' which began with young lasses like her to be a greater favorite and more fashionable than the set which her grandmother and other old folks used to sing, under the title of 'Chield Morice.'
17^5. _Written ~and dezar dish~, the ~d~ of ~and~ being carried on to the word following._
19^3. douce _makes no apparent sense. Motherwell prints done._
20^1. _Stood originally_ And when he came to the green wood.
26^2. _No doubt a corruption of the familiar_ Beheld baith dale and down.
29^4. heaviy, _perhaps representing the actual sound. Motherwell prints_ heavy.
#F. a.#
_In eight-line stanzas. ~Wh~ and ~y~ are substituted for the initial ~quh~ and ~z~ cherished by ballad imitators._
5^4. shall.
30^4. He's gar.
#b.#
1^2. fame it wexed.
1^4. Nae for.
1^6. Carron's.
3^1. Ye maun rin this.
3^2. maun rin.
3^3. feet.
4^1. Ah na, ah na.
_The four stanzas which follow, "~produced and handed about in manuscript~," in consequence of an advertisement, were introduced into his copy by Percy._
_After 26:_
His hair was like the threeds of gold, Drawne frae Minerva's loome; His lipps like roses drapping dew, His breath was a' perfume.
His brow was like the mountain snae, Gilt by the morning beam; His cheeks like living roses glow, His een like azure stream.
The boy was clad in robes of grene, Sweete as the infant spring, And like the mavis on the bush He gart the vallies ring.
_After 27:_
That sweetly wavd around his face, That face beyond compare; He sang sae sweet, it might dispel A' rage but fell dispair.
_The following stanzas were appended to the ballad in the edition reprinted by Percy:_
'Obraid me not, my Lord Barnard, Obraid me not for shame! With that saim speir O pierce my heart, And put me out o pain.
'Since nothing bot Gill Morice head Thy jelous rage could quell, Let that saim hand now tak hir life That neir to thee did ill.
'To me nae after days nor nichts Will eir be saft or kind; I'll fill the air with heavy sighs, And greet till I am blind.'
'Enouch of blood by me's bin spilt, Seek not your death frae mee; I rather lourd it had been my sel Than eather him or thee.
'With waefo wae I hear your plaint; Sair, sair I rew the deid, That eir this cursed hand of mine Had gard his body bleid.
'Dry up your tears, my winsom dame, Ye neir can heal the wound; Ye see his head upon the speir, His heart's blude on the ground.
'I curse the hand that did the deid, The heart that thocht the ill, The feet that bore me wi sik speid The comely youth to kill.
'I'll ay lament for Gill Morice, As gin he were my ain; I'll neir forget the dreiry day On which the youth was slain.'
_The copy lent me by Mr Macmath lacks the four stanzas inserted by Percy, but has the eight given immediately above. The following are the variations from #F#._
2^1. will I.
7^4. thy body.
10^2. thy cost.
18^3. maun cum.
26^1. sits.
26^3. means a' these folks.
26^4. she tarrys.
27^1. And whan he cam to guid.
27^3. first saw.
27^4. Kemeing down.
28^2. Than my, _misprint_.
30^4. gard.
34^4. they lay.
35^4. hip was.
_The eight stanzas follow which are printed immediately above._
[139] The edition of 1755 is not known now to exist. Mr David Laing showed Motherwell a copy, without place or date, with the title: Gill Morice, An Ancient Scots Poem. The foundation of the tragedy called Douglas, as it is now acted in the Concert-Hall, Canongate. There was no material difference between this edition and that which was reprinted in the Reliques, except that it lacked the four stanzas which Percy introduced. Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 259, note.
In Herd's MSS, I, 7, II, 70, there are half a dozen more stanzas, from The Weekly Magazine, August 13, 1772, which continue the story still further. My lady flings herself over a craig, my lord seeks death in battle. But, as Sir Walter Scott notes in the margin, these verses are "formed on the conclusion of Douglas, which tragedy is founded on the original ballad." These stanzas are printed by Jamieson, I, 21.
Mr Macmath has communicated to me an early copy of 'Gil Morice,' without place or date, in conjunction with a parody, entitled The Seven Champions of the Stage, printed in 1757, which satirizes Parson Home's efforts to get his Agis and his Douglas acted by Garrick. This copy of 'Gil Morice' might be another edition of that which Mr Laing possessed. Its variations, which are of slight consequence, will be given in the notes to #F#.
[140] The name of the heroine in the tragedy of Douglas was originally Lady Barnard, as in the ballad; it was altered to Lady Randolph when the play was produced in London. Motherwell, p. 257, note.
[141] Minstrelsy, p. 269, note. Mr Aytoun considers that #E# is only the copy printed in the middle of the last century purged, in the process of oral transmission, of what was not to the popular taste, "and altered more." There is no doubt that a copy learned from print may be transformed in this way, but it is certain that old tradition does not come to a stop when a ballad gets into print. Mrs Thomson's account of the matter Aytoun does not heed. It is difficult to understand why Aytoun printed the stanzas from Percy's Reliques, at I, 149 f, 2d ed., except as a simple courtesy to his correspondent.
[142] Already cited in The Ballad Minstrelsy of Scotland, Glasgow, 1871, p. 316.
84
BONNY BARBARA ALLAN
#A. a.# 'Bonny Barbara Allan,' Tea-Table Miscellany, IV, 46, ed. 1740; here from the edition of London, 1763, p. 343. #b.# 'Sir John Grehme and Barbara Allan,' Percy's Reliques, 1765, III, 131.
#B. a.# 'Barbara Allen's Cruelty,' etc., Roxburghe Ballads, II, 25; reprint of the Ballad Society, III, 433. #b.# Roxburghe Ballads, III, 522. #c.# Broadside formerly belonging to Percy. #d.# Percy's Reliques, 1765, III, 125.
#C.# 'Barbara Allan,' Motherwell's MS., p. 288, from recitation.
#A a# is wrongly said by Stenhouse, The Scots Musical Museum, IV, 213, to have appeared in Ramsay's Miscellany in 1724. It is not even in the edition of 1733, but, according to Mr Chappell, was first inserted in that of 1740. Ramsay's copy is repeated in Herd, 1769, p. 29, 1776, I, 19, Johnson's Museum, p. 230, No 221, and Ritson's Scotish Song, II, 196. #C# was perhaps derived from Ramsay, but possibly may have come down by purely oral tradition. Some later copies of #B# have Reading Town for Scarlet Town (Chappell).
The Scottish ballad is extended in Buchan's MSS, I, 90, Motherwell's MS., p. 671, to forty-one stanzas. In this amplified copy, which has no claim to be admitted here, the dying lover leaves his watch and gold ring, his Bible and penknife, a mill and thirty ploughs, nine meal-mills and the freights of nine ships, all to tocher Barbara Allan. This is the ballad referred to by Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe in Stenhouse's edition of the Museum, IV, 300*, as sung by the peasantry of Allandale. Doubtless it was learned by them from some stall-print.
Pepys makes this entry in his Diary, January 2, 1666: "In perfect pleasure I was to hear her [Mrs Knipp, an actress] sing, and especially her little Scotch song of Barbary Allen." Goldsmith, in his third essay, 1765, p. 14, writes: The music of the finest singer is dissonance to what I felt when an old dairy-maid sung me into tears with 'Johnny Armstrong's Last Good-night,' or 'The Cruelty of Barbara Allen.'[143]
* * * * *
#A b# is translated by Loève-Veimars, p. 379, von Marées, p. 34; #B d# by Bodmer, I, 85.
A
#a.# The Tea-Table Miscellany, IV, 46, ed. 1740; here from the London edition of 1763, p. 343. #b.# Percy's Reliques, III, 131, ed. 1765, "with a few conjectural emendations from a written copy."
1 It was in and about the Martinmas time, When the green leaves were a falling, That Sir John Græme, in the West Country, Fell in love with Barbara Allan.
2 He sent his men down through the town, To the place where she was dwelling: 'O haste and come to my master dear, Gin ye be Barbara Allan.'
3 O hooly, hooly rose she up, To the place where he was lying, And when she drew the curtain by, 'Young man, I think you're dying.'
4 'O it's I'm sick, and very, very sick, And 'tis a' for Barbara Allan:' 'O the better for me ye's never be, Tho your heart's blood were a spilling.
5 'O dinna ye mind, young man,' said she, 'When ye was in the tavern a drinking, That ye made the healths gae round and round, And slighted Barbara Allan?'
6 He turnd his face unto the wall, And death was with him dealing: 'Adieu, adieu, my dear friends all, And be kind to Barbara Allan.'
7 And slowly, slowly raise she up, And slowly, slowly left him, And sighing said, she coud not stay, Since death of life had reft him.
8 She had not gane a mile but twa, When she heard the dead-bell ringing, And every jow that the dead-bell geid, It cry'd, Woe to Barbara Allan!
9 'O mother, mother, make my bed! O make it saft and narrow! Since my love died for me to-day, I'll die for him to-morrow.'
B
#a.# Roxburghe Ballads, II, 25; reprint of the Ballad Society, III, 433. #b.# Roxburghe Ballads, III, 522. #c.# A broadside formerly belonging to Bishop Percy, #d.# Percy's Reliques, 1765, III, 125.
1 In Scarlet Town, where I was bound, There was a fair maid dwelling, Whom I had chosen to be my own, And her name it was Barbara Allen.
2 All in the merry month of May, When green leaves they was springing, This young man on his death-bed lay, For the love of Barbara Allen.
3 He sent his man unto her then, To the town where she was dwelling: 'You must come to my master dear, If your name be Barbara Allen.
4 'For death is printed in his face, And sorrow's in him dwelling, And you must come to my master dear, If your name be Barbara Allen.'
5 'If death be printed in his face, And sorrow's in him dwelling, Then little better shall he be For bonny Barbara Allen.'
6 So slowly, slowly she got up, And so slowly she came to him, And all she said when she came there, Young man, I think you are a dying.
7 He turnd his face unto her then: 'If you be Barbara Allen, My dear,' said he, 'come pitty me, As on my death-bed I am lying.'
8 'If on your death-bed you be lying, What is that to Barbara Allen? I cannot keep you from [your] death; So farewell,' said Barbara Allen.
9 He turnd his face unto the wall, And death came creeping to him: 'Then adieu, adieu, and adieu to all, And adieu to Barbara Allen!'
10 And as she was walking on a day, She heard the bell a ringing, And it did seem to ring to her 'Unworthy Barbara Allen.'
11 She turnd herself round about, And she spy'd the corps a coming: 'Lay down, lay down the corps of clay, That I may look upon him.'
12 And all the while she looked on, So loudly she lay laughing, While all her friends cry'd [out] amain, 'Unworthy Barbara Allen!'
13 When he was dead, and laid in grave, Then death came creeping to she: 'O mother, mother, make my bed, For his death hath quite undone me.
14 'A hard-hearted creature that I was, To slight one that lovd me so dearly; I wish I had been more kinder to him, The time of his life when he was near me.'
15 So this maid she then did dye, And desired to be buried by him, And repented her self before she dy'd, That ever she did deny him.
C
Motherwell's MS., p. 288; from Mrs Duff, Kilbirnie, February 9, 1825.
1 It fell about the Lammas time, When the woods grow green and yellow, There came a wooer out of the West A wooing to Barbara Allan.
2 'It is not for your bonny face, Nor for your beauty bonny, But it is all for your tocher good I come so far about ye.'
3 'If it be not for my comely face, Nor for my beauty bonnie, My tocher good ye'll never get paid Down on the board before ye.'
4 'O will ye go to the Highland hills, To see my white corn growing? Or will ye go to the river-side, To see my boats a rowing?'
5 O he's awa, and awa he's gone, And death's within him dealing, And it is all for the sake of her, His bonnie Barbara Allan.
6 O he sent his man unto the house, Where that she was a dwelling: 'O you must come my master to see, If you be Barbara Allan.'
7 So slowly aye as she put on, And so stoutly as she gaed till him, And so slowly as she could say, 'I think, young man, you're lying.'
8 'O I am lying in my bed, And death within me dwelling; And it is all for the love of thee, My bonny Barbara Allan.'
9 She was not ae mile frae the town, Till she heard the dead-bell ringing: 'Och hone, oh hone, he's dead and gone, For the love of Barbara Allan!'
* * * * *
#A. b.#
1^3. o the.
4^4. a _wanting_.
5^1. Remember ye nat in the tavern, sir.
5^2. Whan ye the cups wer fillan.
5^3. How ye.
6^4. And _wanting_.
7^1. Then hooly, hooly.
7^2. And hooly, hooly.
8^2. deid-bell knellan.
8^3. that _wanting_.
8^4. It _wanting_.
9^4. I 'se.
#B. a.#
Barbara Allen's Cruelty, or, The Youngman's Tragedy. With Barbara Allen's Lamentation for her Unkindness to her Lover and her Self.... Printed for P. Brooksby, J. Deacon, J. Blare, J. Back. Black Letter.
13^4. undone we.
#b.#
Barbara Allen's Cruelty, or, The Young Man's Tragedy. _No name of printer._
1^3. for my own.
2^2. they were.
2^4. the sake of.
3^4. name is.
4^4. thy name is.
5^3. Then _wanting_.
6^1. she came to him.
6^3. came to him.
6^4. a _wanting_.
7^2. you are.
7^4. As I am on my death-bed lying.
8^1. If you are on your death-bed lying.
8^3. from your.
8^4. Then farewell: said _wanting_.
9^2. on him.
9^3. and _wanting_: to you all.
10^1. And _wanting_: out one day.
10^2. bells.
10^3. And they.
11^2. And saw.
11^3. corps said she.
12^3. cry'd out.
13^1. in his.
13^4. will quite undo me.
14^1. A _wanting_.
14^3. more kind.
14^4. In time of life.
15^3. eer.
16. As she was lying down to die, A sad feud she fell in; She said, I pray take warning by Hard-hearted Barbara Allen.
#c.#
_Title the same as in #a#._ Printed and sold at the Printing-office in Bow-Church-Yard, London.
1^3. for my own.
2^2. they wore.
3^4. name is.
4^3. And thou.
4^4. thy name is.
5^3. O little.
6^1. she came to him.
6^3. came to him.
6^4. a _wanting_.
7^2. you are.
7^4. As I am on my death-bed lying.
8^3. from your.
8^4. Then farewell: said _wanting_.
9^2. on him.
9^3. to you all.
10^1. And _wanting_: out one day.
10^2. bells.
10^3. And they.
11^2. And espy'd.
11^3. corps said she.
12^3. cry'd out.
13^4. will quite undo me.
14^1. A _wanting_.
14^3. more kind.
14^4. In time of life.
15^4. eer.
16 _as in_ #b#.
_#d# was "given, with some corrections, from an old printed copy in the editor's possession." That these corrections were considerable, we know from the [***] at the end. The old printed copy is very likely to have been #c#, and, if so, the ballad was simply written over. It does not seem necessary to give the variations under the circumstances. In 2^3 Percy has ~Yong Jemmye Grove~._
#C.#
2^1. bonny _should perhaps be ~comely~, as in 3^1._
4^2. _Originally written_ To see my white... courting.
5^2. _Originally_ dwelling.
5^3. _Originally_ it's.
5^4. The _is written over ~His~, probably as a conjecture._
7^2. _After ~stoutly~, ~slowly?~ as a conjectural emendation._
7^4. lying. _'An ingenious friend' of Percy's suggested the transposition of ~lying~ and ~dying~ in #A# 3^{2, 4}._
[143] Pepys is cited by James Farquhar Graham, The Scottish Songs, II, 157, and Goldsmith by Chappell, The Roxburghe Ballads, III, 433.
85
LADY ALICE
#A.# 'Lady Alice.' #a.# Bell's Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs of the Peasantry of England, p. 127. #b.# Notes and Queries, Second Series, I, 418. #c.# Notes and Queries, Second Series, I, 354.
#B.# 'Giles Collins and Proud Lady Anna,' Gammer Gurton's Garland, p. 38, ed. 1810.
This little ballad, which is said to be still of the regular stock of the stalls, is a sort of counterpart to 'Lord Lovel.' A writer in Notes and Queries, Second Series, I, 418, says: This old song was refined and modernized by the late Richard Westall, R. A.
A
#a.# Bell's Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs of the Peasantry of England, p. 127, a stall copy. #b.# Edward Hawkins, in Notes and Queries, Second Series, I, 418. #c.# Notes and Queries, Second Series, I, 354, as heard sung forty years before 1856, "Uneda," Philadelphia.
1 Lady Alice was sitting in her bower-window, Mending her midnight quoif, And there she saw as fine a corpse As ever she saw in her life.
2 'What bear ye, what bear ye, ye six men tall? What bear ye on your shoulders?' 'We bear the corpse of Giles Collins, An old and true lover of yours.'
3 'O lay him down gently, ye six men tall, All on the grass so green, And tomorrow, when the sun goes down, Lady Alice a corpse shall be seen.
4 'And bury me in Saint Mary's church, All for my love so true, And make me a garland of marjoram, And of lemon-thyme, and rue.'
5 Giles Collins was buried all in the east, Lady Alice all in the west, And the roses that grew on Giles Collins's grave, They reached Lady Alice's breast.
6 The priest of the parish he chanced to pass, And he severed those roses in twain; Sure never were seen such true lovers before, Nor eer will there be again.
B
Gammer Gurton's Garland, p. 38, ed. 1810.
1 Giles Collins he said to his old mother, Mother, come bind up my head, And send to the parson of our parish, For tomorrow I shall be dead. dead, For tomorrow I shall be dead.
2 His mother she made him some water-gruel, And stirrd it round with a spoon; Giles Collins he ate up his water-gruel, And died before 't was noon.
3 Lady Anna was sitting at her window, Mending her night-robe and coif; She saw the very prettiest corpse She'd seen in all her life.
4 'What bear ye there, ye six strong men, Upon your shoulders so high?' 'We bear the body of Giles Collins, Who for love of you did die.'
5 'Set him down, set him down,' Lady Anna she cry'd, 'On the grass that grows so green; Tomorrow, before the clock strikes ten, My body shall lye by hisn.'
6 Lady Anna was buried in the east, Giles Collins was buried in the west; There grew a lilly from Giles Collins That touchd Lady Anna's breast.
7 There blew a cold north-easterly wind, And cut this lilly in twain, Which never there was seen before, And it never will again.
* * * * *
#A. a.#
1^2. At midnight mending her quoif.
#b.#
1^2. Mending her midnight coif.
3^3. before the sun.
4. _wanting._
5^3. grow, _misprinted_.
6^1. pass by.
6^2. And severd these.
6^4. ever there will.
#c.#
1^1. at her.
1^2. A mending her midnight coif.
1^3. the finest corpse.
1^4. That ever.
2^2. Upon your shoulders strong.
2^3. Sir Giles.
3, 4. _wanting._
5^1. Lady Alice was.
5^2. Giles Collins all.
5^3. A lily grew out of.
5^4. And touched.
6. _wanting._
86
YOUNG BENJIE
#A.# 'Young Benjie,' Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, III, 251, ed. 1803; III, 10, ed. 1833.
#B.# 'Bondsey and Maisry,' Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 265.
'Verkel Vejemandsøn,' Grundtvig, IV, 151, No 198, invites a comparison with 'Young Benjie,' although the ballads, in the form in which they are now extant, are widely divergent. Verkel Vejemandsøn, seeing maid Gundelild shining in her virgin crown, makes a fiendish vow to rob her of it. He rides up to her house and asks where her father and mother are. They are away from home. He carries her off on his horse into the thickest of a wood, and bids her hold the beast while he makes a bed of leaves. He loses her in the thicket, and cannot find her, though he looks for her a day and two days. She goes to the strand and throws herself into the sea, saying, It was a very different bride-bed that my mother meant me to have. She is drawn out in a fisherman's net. Verkel swears that he has not seen her for eight years, but he is convicted of his crime, on evidence not given, and "clothes three stakes;" that is, he is hanged, and parts of his body are exposed on the wheels which crown the three posts of a gallows.
Sir Walter Scott's observations on the passage in which the drowned maid reveals the author of her death are too interesting to be spared:
"In this ballad the reader will find traces of a singular superstition, not yet altogether discredited in the wilder parts of Scotland. The lykewake, or watching a dead body, in itself a melancholy office, is rendered, in the idea of the assistants, more dismally awful by the mysterious horrors of superstition. In the interval betwixt death and interment, the disembodied spirit is supposed to hover round its mortal habitation, and, if invoked by certain rites, retains the power of communicating, through its organs, the cause of its dissolution. Such inquiries, however, are always dangerous, and never to be resorted to unless the deceased is suspected to have suffered _foul play_, as it is called. It is the more unsafe to tamper with this charm in an unauthorized manner, because the inhabitants of the infernal regions are, at such periods, peculiarly active. One of the most potent ceremonies in the charm, for causing the dead body to speak, is setting the door ajar, or half open. On this account the peasants of Scotland sedulously avoid leaving the door ajar while a corpse lies in the house. The door must either be left wide open or quite shut; but the first is always preferred, on account of the exercise of hospitality usual on such occasions. The attendants must be likewise careful never to leave the corpse for a moment alone, or, if it is left alone, to avoid, with a degree of superstitious horror, the first sight of it.
"The following story, which is frequently related by the peasants of Scotland, will illustrate the imaginary danger of leaving the door ajar. In former times a man and his wife lived in a solitary cottage on one of the extensive Border fells. One day the husband died suddenly, and his wife, who was equally afraid of staying alone by the corpse, or leaving the dead body by itself, repeatedly went to the door, and looked anxiously over the lonely moor for the sight of some person approaching. In her confusion and alarm she accidentally left the door ajar, when the corpse suddenly started up and sat in the bed, frowning and grinning at her frightfully. She sat alone, crying bitterly, unable to avoid the fascination of the dead man's eye, and too much terrified to break the sullen silence, till a Catholic priest, passing over the wild, entered the cottage. He first set the door quite open, then put his little finger in his mouth, and said the paternoster backwards; when the horrid look of the corpse relaxed, it fell back on the bed, and behaved itself as a dead man ought to do.
"The ballad is given from tradition. I have been informed by a lady of the highest literary eminence [Miss Joanna Baillie], that she has heard a ballad on the same subject, in which the scene was laid upon the banks of the Clyde. The chorus was,
O Bothwell banks bloom bonny,
and the watching of the dead corpse was said to have taken place in Bothwell church."
* * * * *
#A# is translated by Schubart, p. 164; by Gerhard, p. 88; by Knortz, Schottische Balladen, No 31.
A
Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, III, 251, ed. 1803; III, 10, ed. 1833. From tradition.
1 Of a' the maids o fair Scotland The fairest was Marjorie, And Young Benjie was her ae true-love, And a dear true-love was he.
2 And wow! but they were lovers dear, And loved fu constantlie; But ay the mair, when they fell out, The sairer was their plea.
3 And they hae quarrelled on a day, Till Marjorie's heart grew wae, And she said she'd chuse another luve, And let Young Benjie gae.
4 And he was stout, and proud-hearted, And thought o't bitterlie, And he's gaen by the wan moon-light To meet his Marjorie.
5 'O open, open, my true-love, O open, and let me in!' 'I dare na open, Young Benjie, My three brothers are within.'
6 'Ye lied, ye lied, ye bonny burd, Sae loud 's I hear ye lie; As I came by the Lowden banks, They bade gude een to me.
7 'But fare ye weel, my ae fause love, That I hae loved sae lang! It sets ye chuse another love, And let Young Benjie gang.'
8 Then Marjorie turned her round about, The tear blinding her ee: 'I darena, darena let thee in, But I'll come down to thee.'
9 Then saft she smiled, and said to him, O what ill hae I done? He took her in his armis twa, And threw her oer the linn.
10 The stream was strang, the maid was stout, And laith, laith to be dang, But ere she wan the Lowden banks Her fair colour was wan.
11 Then up bespak her eldest brother, 'O see na ye what I see?' And out then spak her second brother, 'It's our sister Marjorie!'
12 Out then spak her eldest brother, 'O how shall we her ken?' And out then spak her youngest brother, 'There's a honey-mark on her chin.'
13 Then they've taen up the comely corpse, And laid it on the grund: 'O wha has killed our ae sister, And how can he be found?
14 'The night it is her low lykewake, The morn her burial day, And we maun watch at mirk midnight, And hear what she will say.'
15 Wi doors ajar, and candle-light, And torches burning clear, The streikit corpse, till still midnight, They waked, but naething hear.
16 About the middle o the night The cocks began to craw, And at the dead hour o the night The corpse began to thraw.
17 'O wha has done the wrang, sister, Or dared the deadly sin? Wha was sae stout, and feared nae dout, As thraw ye oer the linn?'
18 'Young Benjie was the first ae man I laid my love upon; He was sae stout and proud-hearted, He threw me oer the linn.'
19 'Sall we Young Benjie head, sister? Sall we Young Benjie hang? Or sall we pike out his twa gray een, And punish him ere he gang?'
20 'Ye mauna Benjie head, brothers, Ye mauna Benjie hang, But ye maun pike out his twa gray een, And punish him ere he gang.
21 'Tie a green gravat round his neck, And lead him out and in, And the best ae servant about your house To wait Young Benjie on.
22 'And ay, at every seven year's end, Ye'll tak him to the linn; For that's the penance he maun drie, To scug his deadly sin.'
B
Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 265.
1 'O come along wi me, brother, Now come along wi me; And we'll gae seek our sister Maisry, Into the water o Dee.'
2 The eldest brother he stepped in, He stepped to the knee; Then out he jumpd upo the bank, Says, This water's nae for me.
3 The second brother he stepped in, He stepped to the quit; Then out he jumpd upo the bank, Says, This water's wondrous deep.
4 When the third brother stepped in, He stepped to the chin; Out he got, and forward wade, For fear o drowning him.
5 The youngest brother he stepped in, Took's sister by the hand; Said, Here she is, my sister Maisry, Wi the hinny-draps on her chin.
6 'O if I were in some bonny ship, And in some strange countrie, For to find out some conjurer, To gar Maisry speak to me!'
7 Then out it speaks an auld woman, As she was passing by: 'Ask of your sister what you want, And she will speak to thee.'
8 'O sister, tell me who is the man That did your body win? And who is the wretch, tell me, likewise, That threw you in the lin?'
9 'O Bondsey was the only man That did my body win; And likewise Bondsey was the man That threw me in the lin.'
10 'O will we Bondsey head, sister? Or will we Bondsey hang? Or will we set him at our bow-end, Lat arrows at him gang?'
11 'Ye winna Bondsey head, brothers, Nor will ye Bondsey hang; But ye'll take out his twa grey een, Make Bondsey blind to gang.
12 'Ye'll put to the gate a chain o gold, A rose garland gar make, And ye'll put that in Bondsey's head, A' for your sister's sake.'
87
PRINCE ROBERT
#A.# 'Prince Robert,' Scott's Minstrelsy, II, 124, ed. 1802; III, 269, ed. 1833.
#B.# 'Earl Robert,' Motherwell's MS., p. 149; Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 200.
#C.# 'Lord Robert and Mary Florence,' Motherwell's MS., p. 321.
#D.# 'Prince Robert,' Harris MS., fol. 29.
Prince Robert's mother poisons him because he has married against her will. He sends for his bride to come, but she is in time only for the funeral. The mother will give her nothing of her son's, not even the ring on his finger, all that she asks for. The bride's heart breaks before the mother's face.
There are other ballad-stories of a mother's poisoning because of displeasure at a son's match, but I know of none which demands comparison with this very slender tale.
* * * * *
#A# is translated by Schubart, p. 122; by Doenniges, p. 57; #A# and #B# combined by Rosa Warrens, Schottische Volkslieder, No 36.
A
Scott's Minstrelsy, II, 124, ed. 1802; III, 269, ed. 1833: from the recitation of Miss Christian Rutherford.
1 Prince Robert has wedded a gay ladye, He has wedded her with a ring; Prince Robert has wedded a gay ladye, But he daur na bring her hame.
2 'Your blessing, your blessing, my mother dear, Your blessing now grant to me!' 'Instead of a blessing ye sall have my curse, And you'll get nae blessing frae me.'
3 She has called upon her waiting-maid, To fill a glass of wine; She has called upon her fause steward, To put rank poison in.
4 She has put it to her roudes lip, And to her roudes chin; She has put it to her fause, fause mouth, But the never a drop gaed in.
5 He has put it to his bonny mouth, And to his bonny chin, He's put it to his cherry lip, And sae fast the rank poison ran in.
6 'O ye hae poisoned your ae son, mother, Your ae son and your heir; O ye hae poisoned your ae son, mother, And sons you'll never hae mair.
7 'O where will I get a little boy, That will win hose and shoon, To rin sae fast to Darlinton, And bid Fair Eleanor come?'
8 Then up and spake a little boy, That wad win hose and shoon, 'O I'll away to Darlinton, And bid Fair Eleanor come.'
9 O he has run to Darlinton, And tirled at the pin; And wha was sae ready as Eleanor's sell To let the bonny boy in?
10 'Your gude-mother has made ye a rare dinour, She's made it baith gude and fine; Your gude-mother has made ye a gay dinour, And ye maun cum till her and dine.'
11 It's twenty lang miles to Sillertoun town, The langest that ever were gane; But the steed it was wight, and the ladye was light, And she cam linkin in.
12 But when she came to Sillertoun town, And into Sillertoun ha, The torches were burning, the ladies were mourning, And they were weeping a'.
13 'O where is now my wedded lord, And where now can he be? O where is now my wedded lord? For him I canna see.'
14 'Your wedded lord is dead,' she says, 'And just gane to be laid in the clay; Your wedded lord is dead,' she says, 'And just gane to be buried the day.
15 'Ye'se get nane o his gowd, ye 'se get nane o his gear, Ye'se get nae thing frae me; Ye'se na get an inch o his gude broad land, Tho your heart suld burst in three.'
16 'I want nane o his gowd, I want nane o his gear, I want nae land frae thee; But I'll hae the ring that's on his finger, For them he did promise to me.'
17 'Ye'se na get the ring that's on his finger, Ye'se na get them frae me; Ye'se na get the ring that's on his finger, An your heart suld burst in three.'
18 She's turn'd her back unto the wa, And her face unto a rock, And there, before the mother's face, Her very heart it broke.
19 The tane was buried in Marie's kirk, The tother in Marie's quair, And out o the tane there sprang a birk, And out o the tother a brier.
20 And thae twa met, and thae twa plat, The birk but and the brier, And by that ye may very weel ken They were twa lovers dear.
B
Motherwell's MS. p. 149; Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 200; from the recitation of Mrs Thomson, Kilbarchan, a native of Bonhill, Dumbartonshire, aged betwixt sixty and seventy.
1 It's fifty miles to Sittingen's Rocks, As eer was ridden or gane; And Earl Robert has wedded a wife, But he dare na bring her hame. And Earl Robert has wedded a wife, But he dare na bring her hame.
2 His mother, she called to her waiting-maid, To bring her a pint o wine: 'For I dinna weel ken what hour of the day That my son Earl Robert shall dine.'
3 She's put it to her fause, fause cheek, But an her fause, fause chin; She's put it to her fause, fause lips, But never a drap went in.
4 But he's put it to his bonny cheek, Aye and his bonny chin; He's put it to his red rosy lips, And the poison went merrily doun.
5 'O where will I get a bonny boy, That will win hose and shoon, That will gang quickly to Sittingen's Rocks, And bid my lady come?'
6 It's out then speaks a bonny boy, To Earl Robert was something akin: 'Many a time have I ran thy errand, But this day wi the tears I'll rin.'
7 Bat when he came to Sittingin's Rocks, To the middle of a' the ha, There were bells a ringing, and music playing, And ladies dancing a'.
8 'What news, what news, my bonny boy? What news have ye to me? Is Earl Robert in very good health, And the ladies of your countrie?'
9 'O Earl Robert's in very good health, And as weel as a man can be; But his mother this night has a drink to be druken, And at it you must be.'
10 She called to her waiting-maid, To bring her a riding-weed, And she called to her stable-groom, To saddle her milk-white steed.
11 But when she came to Earl Robert's bouir, To the middle of a' the ha, There were bells a ringing, and sheets doun hinging, And ladies mourning a'.
12 'I've come for none of his gold,' she said, 'Nor none of his white monie, Excepting a ring of his smallest finger, If that you will grant me.'
13 'Thou'll not get none of his gold,' she said, 'Nor none of his white monie; Thou'll not get a ring of his smallest finger, Tho thy heart should break in three.'
14 She set her foot unto a stane, Her back unto a tree; She set her foot unto a stane, And her heart did break in three.
15 The one was buried in Mary's kirk, The other in Mary's quire; Out of the one there grew a birk, From the other a bonnie brier.
16 And these twa grew, and these twa threw, Till their twa craps drew near; So all the warld may plainly see That they loved each other dear.
C
Motherwell's MS., p. 321, from Agnes Laird, Kilbarchan, June 21, 1825.
1 Lord Robert and Mary Florence, They were twa children young; They were scarse seven years of age Till love began to spring.
2 Lord Robert loved Mary Florence, And she lovd him above power; But he durst not for his cruel mother Bring her unto his bower.
3 It was nineteen miles to Strawberry Castle, As good as ever was rode or gane, But the lord being light, and the steed being swift, Lord Robert was hame gin noon.
4 'A blessing, a blessing, dear mother,' he cries, 'A blessing I do crave!' 'A blessing, a blessing, my son Lord Robert, And a blessing thou shalt have.'
5 She called on her chamber-maid To fill up a glass of wine, And so clever was her cursed fingers To put the rank poison in.
6 'O wae be to you, mother dear,' he cries, 'For working such a wae; For poisoning of your son Lord Robert, And children you have nae mae.
7 'O where will I get a pretty little boy That'll rin him my errands sune? That will rin unto Strawberry Castle, And tell Mary Florence to cum?'
8 'Here am I, a pretty little boy, Your eldest sister's son, That will rin unto Strawberry Castle, And tell Mary Florence to come.'
9 When he came unto Strawberry Castle He tirled at the pin, And so ready was Mary Florence hersell To open and let him in.
10 'What news, what news, my pretty little boy? What news hast thou brocht here?' With sichin and sabbin and wringing his hands, No message he could refer.
11 'The news that I have gotten,' he says, 'I cannot weel declair; But my grandmother has prepard a feast, And fain she would hae thee thair.'
12 She called on her stable-groom To dress her swiftest steed; For she knew very weel by this pretty little boy That Lord Robert was dead.
13 And when she came to Knotingale Castle She tirled at the pin, And so ready was Lord Robert's mother To open and let her in.
14 'What news, what news, Mary Florence?' she says, 'What news has thou to me?' 'I came to see your son Lord Robert, And fain would I him see.
15 'I came not for his gude red gold, Nor for his white monie, But for the ring on his wee finger, And fain would I it see.'
16 'That ring thou cannot see, Mary Florence, That ring thou'll never see; For death was so strong in Lord Robert's breast That the gold ring burst in three.'
17 She has set her foot unto a stone, Her back unto a tree; Before she left Knotingale Castle Her heart it brak in three.
D
Harris MS., fol. 29, from the recitation of Mrs Molison.
1 Prince Robert he has wedded a wife, An he daurna bring her hame; The queen ... His mither was much to blame.
* * * * * * *
2 'It is the fashion in oor countrie, mither, I dinna ken what it is here, To like your wife better than your mither, That... bought you sae dear.'
3 She called upon her best marie, An tippet her wi a ring, To bring to her the rank poison, To gie Prince Robert a dram.
4 She put it to her cheek, her cheek, She put it to her chin; She put it to her fause, fause lips, But neer a drap gaed in.
5 She put it to his cheek, his cheek, She put it to his chin; She put it to his rosy lips, An the rank poison gaed in.
6 'Whare will I get a bonnie boy, Wha will win meat an fee, Wha will rin on to... bower, Bring my gude ladie to me?'
7 'Here am I, a bonnie boy, Willin to win meat an fee, Wha will rin on to... bower, An bring your gude ladie.'
8 'Whan you come to broken brig, Tak aff your coat an swim; An whan you come to grass growin, Tak aff your shoon an rin.'
9 An whan he cam to broken brig, He coost his coat an swam, An whan he cam to grass growin, Set doon his feet an ran.
10 An whan he cam to the ladie's bower, He fand her a' her lane, . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
* * * * * * *
11 An syne she kissed his wan, wan lips, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
* * * * *
#A.#
13^1, 13^3. Oh.
16^3, 17^1, 17^3. ring, _ed. 1802;_ rings, _ed. 1833._
#B.#
2^2. _Changed in the MS. to_ O bring me.
7^2, 11^2. a' _added later._
9^2. a _added later._
15^3. grew an; _the next word looks like ~buk~, but is erased, and ~birk~ substituted. Motherwell printed ~bush~._
88
YOUNG JOHNSTONE
#A.# 'The Cruel Knight,' Herd, The Ancient and Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p. 305; I, 165, ed. 1776.
#B. a.# 'Young Johnstone,' Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 193. #b.# 'The Young Johnstone,' Finlay's Scottish Historical and Romantic Ballads, II, 71.
#C.# 'Sweet William and the Young Colonel,' Motherwell's MS., p. 310.
#D.# 'Johnston Hey and Young Caldwell,' Motherwell's MS., p. 639.
#E.# 'Lord John's Murder,' Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 20.
#F.# 'Young Johnston,' Motherwell's Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. xx, XVIII, one stanza.
Pinkerton inserted Herd's 'Cruel Knight,' #A#, in his Select Scotish Ballads, I, 69, with alterations and omissions. Motherwell enters in his Note-Book, p. 6, that he had received from Mrs Gentles, Paisley, 'The Young Johnstone,' "different in some measure from the copy in Finlay's Ballads." Of the version printed in his Minstrelsy (#B a#), undoubtedly that which was derived from Mrs Gentles, he says, "for a few verbal emendations recourse has been had to Mr Finlay's copy (#B b#)." These versions should therefore not have differed considerably, Finlay suppressed "Young Johnstone's reason for being sae late a coming in," "as well as a concluding stanza of inferior merit;" in this rejection he was not followed by Motherwell. Christie, I, 156, gives #E# "with some alterations from the way it was sung" by an old woman; petty variations, such as one must think could not have impressed themselves upon a memory unapt to retain things of more importance. 'Young Johnstone' in Chambers's Twelve Romantic Scottish Ballads, p. 19, is made up mostly from #B a#, #B b#, #E#, like the copy in the same editor's Scottish Ballads, p. 293, but handles tradition very freely.
#E# seems to be #A# altered, or imperfectly remembered, with the addition of a few stanzas. Motherwell remarks of his version, what is true of all the others but #E#, that the ballad throws no light on Young Johnstone's motive for stabbing his lady. An explanation was afforded by the reciter: "The barbarous act was committed unwittingly, through Young Johnstone's suddenly waking from sleep, and, in that moment of confusion and alarm, unhappily mistaking his mistress for one of his pursuers." And this is the turn which is given to the act in #E# 13:
'Ohon, alas, my lady gay, To come sae hastilie! I thought it was my deadly foe, Ye had trysted into me.'
The apology may go for what it is worth. Awake or waking, Young Johnstone's first instinct is as duly to stab as a bull-dog's is to bite.
#C# 5, 9, 13 are taken from 'The Lass of Roch Royal:' cf. No 76, #B# 17, #C# 2, #E# 9, #H# 3. #D# 6 recalls 'Fair Margaret and Sweet William,' No 74, #A# 8, #B# 11; #A# 13, #B# 25, #C# 26, #D# 30, #E# 15, 'Lord Thomas and Fair Annet,' No 73, #B# 34, #D# 17; #D# 31, 32, 'The Twa Brothers,' No 49, #B# 4, #C# 4, 5, #D# 5, 7, #E# 6, 7, #F# 5, 6, #G# 4, 5.
* * * * *
#A#, with the last two stanzas of #B a#, is translated by Rosa Warrens, Schottische Volkslieder, No 27; #E# by Gerhard, p. 157; Aytoun, II, 110 by Knortz, Schottische Balladen, No 30, p. 94, with abridgment; Pinkerton's copy by Grundtvig, No 20, p. 136.
A
Herd's Ancient and Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p. 305.
1 The knight stands in the stable-door, As he was for to ryde, When out then came his fair lady, Desiring him to byde.
2 'How can I byde? how dare I byde? How can I byde with thee? Have I not killd thy ae brother? Thou hadst nae mair but he.'
3 'If you have killd my ae brother, Alas, and woe is me! But if I save your fair body, The better you'll like me.'
4 She's tane him to her secret bower, Pinnd with a siller pin, And she's up to her highest tower, To watch that none come in.
5 She had na well gane up the stair, And entered in her tower, When four and twenty armed knights Came riding to the door.
6 'Now God you save, my fair lady, I pray you tell to me, Saw you not a wounded knight Come riding by this way?'
7 'Yes, bloody, bloody was his sword, And bloody were his hands; But if the steed he rides be good, He's past fair Scotland's strands.
8 'Light down, light down then, gentlemen, And take some bread and wine; The better you will him pursue When you shall lightly dine.'
9 'We thank you for your bread, lady, We thank you for your wine; I would gie thrice three thousand pounds Your fair body was mine.'
10 Then she's gane to her secret bower, Her husband dear to meet; But he drew out his bloody sword, And wounded her sae deep.
11 'What aileth thee now, good my lord? What aileth thee at me? Have you not got my father's gold, But and my mother's fee?'
12 'Now live, now live, my fair lady, O live but half an hour, There's neer a leech in fair Scotland But shall be at thy bower.'
13 'How can I live? how shall I live? How can I live for thee? See you not where my red heart's blood Runs trickling down my knee?'
* * * * * * *
B
#a.# Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 193, from the recitation of Mrs Gentles, Paisley, #b.# Finlay's Scottish Ballads, II, 71, from two recited copies.
1 Young Johnstone and the young Colnel Sat drinking at the wine: 'O gin ye wad marry my sister, It's I wad marry thine.'
2 'I wadna marry your sister For a' your houses and land; But I'll keep her for my leman, When I come oer the strand.
3 'I wadna marry your sister For a' your gowd so gay; But I'll keep her for my leman, When I come by the way.'
4 Young Johnstone had a little small sword, Hung low down by his gair, And he stabbed it through the young Colnel, That word he neer spak mair.
5 But he's awa to his sister's bower, He's tirled at the pin: 'Whare hae ye been, my dear brither, Sae late a coming in?' 'I hae been at the school, sister, Learning young clerks to sing.'
6 'I've dreamed a dreary dream this night, I wish it may be for good; They were seeking you with hawks and hounds, And the young Colnel was dead.'
7 'Hawks and hounds they may seek me, As I trow well they be; For I have killed the young Colnel, And thy own true-love was he.'
8 'If ye hae killed the young Colnel, O dule and wae is me! But I wish ye may be hanged on a hie gallows, And hae nae power to flee.'
9 And he's awa to his true-love's bower, He's tirled at the pin: 'Whar hae ye been, my dear Johnstone, Sae late a coming in?' 'It's I hae been at the school,' he says, 'Learning young clerks to sing.'
10 'I have dreamed a dreary dream,' she says, 'I wish it may be for good; They were seeking you with hawks and hounds, And the young Colnel was dead.'
11 'Hawks and hounds they may seek me, As I trow well they be; For I hae killed the young Colnel, And thy ae brother was he.'
12 'If ye hae killed the young Colnel, O dule and wae is me! But I care the less for the young Colnel, If thy ain body be free.
13 'Come in, come in, my dear Johnstone, Come in and take a sleep; And I will go to my casement, And carefully I will thee keep.'
14 He had not weel been in her bower-door, No not for half an hour, When four and twenty belted knights Came riding to the bower.
15 'Well may you sit and see, lady, Well may you sit and say; Did you not see a bloody squire Come riding by this way?'
16 'What colour were his hawks?' she says, 'What colour were his hounds? What colour was the gallant steed, That bore him from the bounds?'
17 'Bloody, bloody were his hawks, And bloody were his hounds; But milk-white was the gallant steed, That bore him from the bounds.'
18 'Yes, bloody, bloody were his hawks, And bloody were his hounds; And milk-white was the gallant steed, That bore him from the bounds.
19 'Light down, light down now, gentlemen, And take some bread and wine; And the steed be swift that he rides on, He's past the brig o Lyne.'
20 'We thank you for your bread, fair lady, We thank you for your wine; But I wad gie thrice three thousand pound That bloody knight was taen.'
21 'Lie still, lie still, my dear Johnstone, Lie still and take a sleep; For thy enemies are past and gone, And carefully I will thee keep.'
22 But Young Johnstone had a little wee sword, Hung low down by his gair, And he stabbed it in fair Annet's breast, A deep wound and a sair.
23 'What aileth thee now, dear Johnstone? What aileth thee at me? Hast thou not got my father's gold, Bot and my mither's fee?'
24 'Now live, now live, my dear ladye, Now live but half an hour, And there's no a leech in a' Scotland But shall be in thy bower.'
25 'How can I live? how shall I live? Young Johnstone, do not you see The red, red drops o my bonny heart's blood Rin trinkling down my knee?
26 'But take thy harp into thy hand, And harp out owre yon plain, And neer think mair on thy true-love Than if she had never been.'
27 He hadna weel been out o the stable, And on his saddle set, Till four and twenty broad arrows Were thrilling in his heart.
C
Motherwell's MS., p. 310, from the recitation of Jeanie Nicol, May 4, 1825.
1 Sweet William and the young Colnel One day was drinking wine: 'It's I will marry your sister, If ye will marry mine.'
2 'I will not marry your sister, Altho her hair he brown; But I'll keep her for my liberty-wife, As I ride thro the town.'
3 William, having his two-edged sword, He leaned quite low to the ground, And he has given the young Colnel A deep and a deadly wound.
4 He rade, he rade, and awa he rade, Till he came to his mother's bower; 'O open, open, mother,' he says, 'And let your auld son in.
5 'For the rain rains owre my yellow hair, And the dew draps on my chin, And trembling stands the gallant steed That carries me from the ground.'
6 'What aileth thee, Sweet William?' she says, 'What harm now hast thou done?' 'Oh I hae killed the young Colnel, And his heart's blood sair does run.'
7 'If ye hae killed the young Colnel, Nae shelter ye'll get frae me; May the two-edged sword be upon your heart, That never hath power to flee!'
8 He rade, he rade, and awa he rade, Till he came to his sister's bower; 'Oh open, open, sister,' he says, 'And let your brother in.
9 'For the rain rains on my yellow hair, And the dew draps on my chin, And trembling stands the gallant steed That carries me from the ground.'
10 'What aileth thee, Sweet William?' she says, 'What harm now hast thou done?' 'Oh I have killed the young Colnel, And his heart's blood sair doth run.'
11 'If ye hae killed the young Colnel, Nae shelter ye'll get frae me; May the two-edged sword be upon your heart, That never hath power to flee!'
12 He rade, he rade, and awa he rade, Till he came to his true-love's bower; 'Oh open, oh open, my true-love,' he says, 'And let your sweetheart in.
13 'For the rain rains on my yellow hair, And the dew draps on my chin, And trembling stands the gallant steed That carries me from the ground.'
14 'What aileth thee, Sweet William?' she says, 'What harm now hast thou done?' 'Oh I hae killed thy brother dear, And his heart's blood sair doth run.'
15 'If ye hae killed my brother dear, It's oh and alace for me! But between the blankets and the sheets It's there I will hide thee!'
16 She's taen him by the milk-white hand, She's led him thro chambers three, Until she came to her own chamber: 'It's there I will hide thee.
17 'Lye down, lye down, Sweet William,' she says, 'Lye down and take a sleep; It's owre the chamber I will watch, Thy fair bodie to keep.'
18 She had not watched at the chamber-door An hour but only three, Till four and twenty belted knichts Did seek his fair bodie.
19 'O did you see the hunt?' she says, 'Or did you see the hounds? Or did you see that gallant steed, That last rade thro the town?'
20 'What colour was the fox?' they said, 'What colour was the hounds? What colour was the gallant steed, That's far yont London toun?'
21 'O dark grey was the fox,' she said, 'And light grey was the hounds, But milk-white was the gallant steed That's far yont London town.'
22 'Rise up, rise up, Sweet William,' she says, 'Rise up, and go away; For four and twenty belted knights Were seeking thy bodye.'
23 Sweet William, having his two-edged sword, He leaned it quite low to the ground, And he has given his own true-love A deep and a deadly wound.
24 'What aileth thee, Sweet William?' she says, 'What harm now have I done? I never harmed a hair of your head Since ever this love began.'
25 'Oh live, oh live, my own true-love, Oh live but half an hour, And the best doctor in London town Shall come within thy bower.'
26 'How can I live? how shall I live? How can I live half an hour? For don't you see my very heart's blood All sprinkled on the floor?'
27 William, having his two-edged sword, He leaned it quite low to the ground, And he has given his own bodie A deep and a deadly wound.
D
Motherwell's MS., p. 639, from the recitation of an Irishwoman, wife of John French, a porter at the quay of Ayr.
1 Johnston Hey and Young Caldwell Were drinking o the wine: 'O will ye marry my sister? And I will marry thine.'
2 'I winna marry your sister, Altho her locks are broun; But I'll make her my concubine, As I ride through the toun.'
3 Syne Johnston drew a gude braid sword, That hang down by his knee, And he has run the Young Caldwell Out through the fair bodie.
4 Up he gat, and awa he rade, By the clear light o the moon, Until he came to his mother's door, And there he lichtit doun.
5 'Whare hae ye been, son Willie,' she said, 'Sae late and far in the night?' 'O I hae been at yon new slate house, Hearing the clergy speak.'
6 'I dreamd a dream, son Willie,' she said, 'I doubt it bodes nae gude; That your ain room was fu o red swine, And your bride's bed daubd wi blude.'
7 'To dream o blude, mither,' he said, 'It bodeth meikle ill; And I hae slain a Young Caldwell, And they're seeking me to kill.'
8 'Gin ye hae slain a Young Caldwell, Alace and wae is me! But gin your fair body's free frae skaith, The easier I will be.'
9 Up he gat, and awa he rade, By the clear licht o the mune, Until he cam to his sister's bower, And there he lichtit doun.
10 'Whare hae ye been, brither,' she said, 'Sae late and far in the night?' 'O I hae been in yon new slate house, Hearing the clergy speak.'
11 'I dreamd a dream, brither,' she said, 'I doubt it bodes nae gude; I dreamd the ravens eat your flesh, And the lions drank your blude.'
12 'To dream o blude, sister,' he said, 'It bodeth meikle ill; And I hae slain a Young Caldwell, And they're seeking me to kill.'
13 'Gin ye hae slain a Young Caldwell, Alace and wae is me! To be torn at the tail o wild horses Is the death I weet ye'll die.'
14 Up he gat, and awa he rade, By the clear light o the mune, Untill he cam to his true-love's bower, And there he lichtit doun.
15 'Whare hae ye been, Love Willie,' she said, 'Sae late and far in the night?' 'O I hae been in yon new sklate house, Hearing the clergy speak.'
16 'I dreamd a dream, Willie,' she said, 'I doubt it bodes nae gude; I dreamd the ravens ate your flesh, And the lions drank your blude.'
17 'To dream o ravens, love,' he said, 'Is the loss o a near friend; And I hae killd your brither dear, And for it I'll be slain.'
18 'Gin ye hae slain my ae brither, Alace and wae is me! But gin your fair body's free frae skaith, The easier I will be.
19 'Lye doun, lye doun, Love Willie,' she said, 'Lye doun and tak a sleep; And I will walk the castel wa, Your fair bodie to keep.'
20 He laid him doun within her bowr, She happit him wi her plaid, And she's awa to the castle-wa, To see what would betide.
21 She hadna gane the castle round A time but only three, Till four and twenty beltit knichts Cam riding ower the lea.
22 And whan they came unto the gate, They stude and thus did say: 'O did ye see yon bludie knicht, As he rade out this way?'
23 'What colour was his hawk?' she said, 'What colour was his hound? What colour was the gudely steed The bludie knicht rade on?'
24 'Nut-brown was his hawk,' they said, 'And yellow-fit was his hound, And milk-white was the goodly steed The bluidie knicht rade on.'
25 'Gin nut-brown was his hawk,' she said, 'And yellow-fit was his hound, And milk-white was the gudely steed, He's up to London gone.'
26 They spurrd their steeds out ower the lea, They being void o fear; Syne up she gat, and awa she gade, Wi tidings to her dear.
27 'Lye still, lye still, Love Willie,' she said, 'Lye still and tak your sleep;' Syne he took up his good braid sword, And wounded her fu deep.
28 'O wae be to you, Love Willie,' she said, 'And an ill death may ye die! For first ye slew my ae brither, And now ye hae killd me.'
29 'Oh live, oh live, true-love,' he said, 'Oh live but ae half hour, And there's not a docter in a' London But sall be in your bower.'
30 'How can I live, Love Willie,' she said, 'For the space of half an hour? Dinnae ye see my clear heart's blood A rinnin down the floor?
31 'Tak aff, tak aff my holland sark, And rive't frae gare to gair, And stap it in my bleeding wounds; They'll may be bleed nae mair.'
32 Syne he took aff her holland sark, And rave't frae gare to gair, And stappit it in her bleeding wounds, But aye they bled the mair.
33 'Gae dress yoursell in black,' she said, 'And gae whistling out the way, And mourn nae mair for your true-love When she's laid in the clay.'
34 He leaned his halbert on the ground, The point o't to his breast, Saying, Here three sauls ['s] gaun to heaven; I hope they'll a' get rest.
E
Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 20.
1 Lord John stands in his stable door, Says he, I will gae ride, His lady, in her bigly bower? Desired him to bide.
2 'How can I bide? how can I bide? How shall I bide wi thee? When I hae killd your ae brother; You hae nae mair but he.'
3 'If ye hae killd my ae brother, Alas, and wae is me! If ye be well yoursell, my love, The less matter will be.
4 'Ye'll do you to yon bigly bower, And take a silent sleep, And I'll watch in my highest tower, Your fair body to keep.'
5 She has shut her bigly bower, All wi a silver pin, And done her to the highest tower, To watch that nane come in.
6 But as she looked round about, To see what she could see, There she saw nine armed knights Come riding oer the lea.
7 'God make you safe and free, lady, God make you safe and free! Did you see a bludy knight Come riding oer the lea?'
8 'O what like was his hawk, his hawk? And what like was his hound? If his steed has ridden well, He's passd fair Scotland's strand.
9 'Come in, come in, gude gentlemen, And take white bread and wine; And aye the better ye'll pursue, The lighter that ye dine.'
10 'We thank you for your bread, lady, We thank you for the wine, And I woud gie my lands sae broad Your fair body were mine.'
11 She has gane to her bigly bower, Her ain gude lord to meet; A trusty brand he quickly drew, Gae her a wound sae deep.
12 'What harm, my lord, provokes thine ire To wreak itself on me, When thus I strove to save thy life, Yet served for sic a fee?'
13 'Ohon, alas, my lady gay, To come sae hastilie! I thought it was my deadly foe, Ye had trysted into me.
14 'O live, O live, my gay lady, The space o ae half hour, And nae a leech in a' the land But I'se bring to your bower.'
15 'How can I live? how shall I live? How can I live for thee? Ye see my blude rin on the ground, My heart's blude by your knee.
16 'O take to flight, and flee, my love, O take to flight, and flee! I woudna wish your fair body For to get harm for me.'
17 'Ae foot I winna flee, lady, Ae foot I winna flee; I've dune the crime worthy o death, It's right that I shoud die.
8 'O deal ye well at my love's lyke The beer but an the wine; For ere the morn, at this same time, Ye'll deal the same at mine.'
F
Motherwell's Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. xx, XVIII.
As Willie and the young Colnel Were drinking at the wine, 'O will ye marry my sister?' says Will, 'And I will marry thine.'
* * * * *
#A.#
10^4. very deep, _in the edition of 1776._
#B. a.#
4^1. _Motherwell informs us, ~p. 200~, that the original reading was ~little small sword~; also ~he stabbed~ in 4^3._
#b.#
_Finlay's version is compounded from two, and Motherwell's, since it adopts readings from Finlay's, is compounded from three; but Motherwell's has nevertheless been preferred, on account of its retaining stanzas which Finlay omitted. Besides, Motherwell gives us to understand that his changes are few._
3^2. gowd and fee.
3^4. come oer the sea.
4^1. nut-brown sword.
4^3. he ritted.
5^2. And he's.
5^3. dear Johnstone.
5^{5, 6}. _wanting._
6^1, 10^1. dreamed a dream this night, she says.
6^2, 10^2. be good.
7^1, 11^1. They are seeking me with hawks and hounds.
8^2, 12^2. A dule.
9^1. his lover's.
9^{5, 6}. _wanting._
12^3. But I gie na sae much for.
12^4. is free.
13^4. I'll thee.
14^{1, 2}. She hadna weel gane up the stair, And entered in her tower.
14^3. Till.
14^4. the door.
15^{1, 2}. O did you see a bloody squire, A bloody squire was he.
15^3. O did you see.
15^4. riding oer the lea.
16^1. she cried.
17^3. And.
19^1. But light ye down now.
19^3. be good he rides upon.
19^4. of Tyne.
20^1. bread, ladie.
20^3. But _wanting_: pounds.
20^4. Your fair bodie was mine.
21^{3, 4}. For there's four and twenty belted knights Just gone out at the gate.
22^1. had a wee penknife.
22{3, 4}. And he ritted it through his dear ladie, And wounded her sae sair.
25. How can I live, my dear Johnstone? How can I live for thee? O do ye na see my red heart's blood Run trickling down my knee?
26. But go thy way, my dear Johnstone, And ride along the plain, And think no more of thy true love Than she had never been.
27. _wanting._
#C.#
19^1. Oh.
25^1. O: _the first_.
#D.#
1^3, 5^3, 15^3. Oh.
15^1. he been.
18^1. ae _corrected from_ ain.
19^3. wa _corrected from_ round.
24^1. she said.
29^1. O: _the first_.
Caldwell _is an obvious corruption of_ Colonel.
#E.#
_The alterations according to the singing of Christie's old woman are, as usual with him in such cases, utterly insignificant._
2^1. How can I bide, how shall.
2^2. How can.
3^4. will it.
6^3. she did see.
10^2. for your.
15^3. rins.
89
FAUSE FOODRAGE
#A.# 'Fa'se Footrage,' Alexander Fraser Tytler's Brown MS., No 3.
#B.# 'The Eastmure King and the Westmure King, Motherwell's MS., p. 341.
#C.# 'Eastmuir King,' Harris MS., No 18, fol. 22.
#A# was printed in the Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, II, 73, 1802, "chiefly" from Mrs Brown's MS.; in fact, with not quite forty petty alterations. Scott remarks that the ballad has been popular in many parts of Scotland. Christie, I, 172, had heard it sung by an old Banffshire woman, who died in 1866, at the age of nearly eighty, with very little difference from Scott's copy.[144]
The resemblance of the verse in #A# 31, 'The boy stared wild like a gray gose-hawke,' to one in 'Hardyknute,' 'Norse een like gray goss-hawk stared wild,' struck Sir Walter Scott as suspicious, and led him "to make the strictest inquiry into the authenticity of the song. But every doubt was removed by the evidence of a lady of high rank [Lady Douglas of Douglas, sister to Henry, Duke of Buccleuch, as we are informed in the edition of 1833], who not only recollected the ballad as having amused her infancy, but could repeat many of the verses." It is quite possible that Mrs Brown may unconsciously have adopted this verse from the tiresome and affected Hardyknute, so much esteemed in her day. One would be only too glad were this the only corruption which the ballad had undergone. On the contrary, while not calling in question the substantial genuineness of the ballad, we must admit that the form in which we have received it is an enfeebled one, without much flavor or color; and some such feeling no doubt affected Sir Walter's mind, more than the reminiscence of 'Hardyknute,' which, of itself, is of slight account.
A tale 'How the king of Estmure Land married the king's daughter of Westmure Land' is mentioned in "The Complaint of Scotland," and there has been considerable speculation as to what this tale might be, and also as to what localities Estmure Land and Westmure Land might signify. Seeing no clue to a settlement of these questions, I pass them by, with the simple comment that no king of Estmure Land marries the king of Westmure Land's daughter in this ballad or any other.
Three kings (King Easter and King Wester, #A#, the Eastmure king and the Westmure king, #B#, #C#, and King Honor, #A#, the king of Onorie, #B#, King Luve, #C#), court a lady, and the third, who woos for womanhood and beauty, #B#, wins her. The Eastmure king, #B#, the Westmure, #C#, kills his successful rival on his wedding-day. According to the prosaic, not at all ballad-like, and evidently corrupted account in #A#, there is a rebellion of nobles four months after the marriage, and a certain False Foodrage takes it upon himself to kill the king. The murderer spares the queen, and if she gives birth to a girl will spare her child also, but if she bears a boy the boy is to die.
In #A# the queen escapes from custody before her time comes, and gives birth to a boy in the swines' sty. Lots are cast to see who shall go find the queen (the narrative is very vague here), and the lot falls on Wise William, who sends his wife in his stead. The queen induces this woman to exchange children with her, Wise William's wife having a girl. After some years Wise William reveals to the boy that he is rightful lord of the castle (and we may suppose royal dignity) which False Foodrage has usurped. The boy kills False Foodrage and marries Wise William's daughter. Some of these incidents are wanting in #B#. For Wise William's wife we have simply a poor woman in the town.
'Fause Foodrage' is closely related to a Scandinavian ballad, especially popular in Denmark, where it is found in not less than twenty-three manuscripts:
#Danish.# #A#, 'Ung Villum,' Danske Viser, No 126, III, 135, 66 stanzas; #B#, 'Vold og Mord,' Levninger, II, 64, No 12, 64 stanzas; #C#, 'Lille Villum,' Kristensen, I, 305, No 111, 15 stanzas; also, Tragica, No 18, not seen. #Icelandic.# 'Kvæði af Loga í Vallarhlíð,' Íslenzk fornkvæði, I, 235, No 28, 55 stanzas. #Swedish.# 'Helleman Unge,' Arwidsson, I, 132, No 15, 13 stanzas (imperfect). #Färöe#, in unprinted copies. There are more incidents in the Danish ballad, and too many, but something, without doubt, has been lost from the English, which, however, preserves these essential points: A man that has wedded a woman who had another lover is killed by his competitor shortly after his marriage; a boy is born, who is passed off as a girl; this boy, before he has attained manhood, slays his father's murderer.
In the Danish 'Young William,' #A#, Svend of Voldesløv, rich in gold, woos Lisbet, who prefers William for his good qualities. Svend shuts himself up in his room, sick with grief. His mother and sister come and go. The mother will get him a fairer maid, and gives him the good rede not to distress himself about a girl that is plighted to another man. The sister gives a bad rede, to kill William, and so get the bride. The mother remarks that a son is coming into being who would revenge his father's death. The business can be done, says Svend, before that son is born, and immediately after takes occasion to meet William as he is passing through a wood, and kills him. Forty weeks gone, Lisbet gives birth to a son, but Svend is told that she has borne a daughter. Young William attains to the age of eighteen, and is a stalwart youth, given to games of strength. One day when he is putting the stone with a peasant, the two fall out, and the peasant, being roughly treated, calls out, You had better avenge your father's death. Young William hastens to his mother, and asks whether his father's death had been by violence, and, if so, who killed him. The mother thinks him too young to wield a sword: he must summon Svend to a court. This is done. Svend informs his uncle that he is summoned to court by William, and asks what he is to do. The uncle had always been told that Lisbet's child was a girl. I shall never live to see the day, says Svend, when I shall beat a woman at tricks. Svend goes to the court, attended by many of his uncle's men. William charges him with the murder of his father, for which no compensation has been offered. Svend says not a penny will be paid, and William draws his sword and cuts him down. For killing Svend William is summoned to court by Svend's brother, Nilus. Nilus demands amends. William says they are quit, with brother against father, and he will marry Nilus's sister (whom he has already carried off). Never, says Nilus, for which William finds it necessary to kill _him_. He then rides to his mother, who asks what amends have been offered for his father's death, and, on hearing that William has killed both the murderer and his brother, clasps him to her heart, for all her grief is now over.
No other Scandinavian copy besides Danish #A# has the killing of Nilus, which may be regarded as an aftergrowth. In the Icelandic version, the sister, so far from putting her brother up to the murder, bursts into tears when her brother tells what he has done, because she knows that revenge will follow. The murderer offers himself to his former love in place of her husband, at the very moment when she is bowed in anguish over the dead body. She replies significantly, He is not far from me that shall revenge him. All the Scandinavian copies have the three chief points of the story except the Swedish, which lacks the first half.
Another Scandinavian ballad has many of the features of 'Young William:' #Danish#, 'Liden Engel,' #A#, Danske Viser, No 127, III, 147; #B#, Levninger, II, 82, No 13; #C#, Kristensen, I, 254, No 97, a fragment. #Norwegian#, 'Unge Ingelbrett,' Bugge, p. 110, No 23, derived from the Danish. According to Danish #A#, and for the most part #B#, Liden Engel (who, by the way, is of Westerris) carries off a bride by force. Her brother burns him and all his people in a church in which they have taken refuge, the lady being saved by lifting her on shields up to a window, whence she is taken by her natural friends. It is the mother that suggests the setting of the church on fire, and the first act of the daughter, after getting out of the church with singed hair, is to fall on her bare knees and pray that she may have a son who will take vengeance on her brother. A son is born, and called after his father, but his existence is as far as possible kept secret. As he grows up his mother is always saying to him, Thine uncle was the death of thy father. The boy wishes to serve the king; the mother says, Go, but remember thy father's death. The king observes that the youth has always a weight on his mind, and on his asking the cause Little Engel answers that his uncle had slain his father and paid no boot. The king says, If you wish to revenge his death, as it is quite proper you should, I will lend you three hundred men. When the uncle is informed that Little Engel is coming against him he declares that he had never heard of such a person before: so the secret has been well kept. Little Engel burns his uncle and all his people in a stone chamber in which they had shut themselves up.
In the Norwegian-Danish ballad Engel, or Ingelbrett, the second simply kills his uncle with a sword. The offence given in this case is not the carrying off a bride by force, but the omitting to ask the brother's consent to the marriage, though that of all the rest of the family had been obtained: another instance of the danger of such neglect in addition to those already mentioned in the preface to 'The Cruel Brother,' I, 142.
'Fause Foodrage' has some affinity with 'Jellon Grame.'
* * * * *
Scott's copy is translated by Schubart, p. 102; Wolff, Halle der Völker, I, 33, and Hausschatz, p. 211; Doenniges, p. 51; Knortz, Schottische Balladen, No 28.
'Ung Villum' is translated by Prior, III, 422, No 170; 'Liden Engel' by the same, III, 379, No 164.
A
Alexander Fraser Tytler's Brown MS., No 3.
1 King Easter has courted her for her gowd, King Wester for her fee, King Honor for her lands sae braid, And for her fair body.
2 They had not been four months married, As I have heard them tell, Until the nobles of the land Against them did rebel.
3 And they cast kaivles them amang, And kaivles them between, And they cast kaivles them amang Wha shoud gae kill the king.
4 O some said yea, and some said nay, Their words did not agree; Till up it gat him Fa'se Footrage, And sware it shoud be he.
5 When bells were rung, and mass was sung. And a' man boon to bed, King Honor and his gay ladie In a hie chamer were laid.
6 Then up it raise him Fa'se Footrage, While a' were fast asleep, And slew the porter in his lodge, That watch and ward did keep.
7 O four and twenty silver keys Hang hie upon a pin, And ay as a door he did unlock, He has fastend it him behind.
8 Then up it raise him King Honor, Says, What means a' this din! Now what's the matter, Fa'se Footrage? O wha was't loot you in?
9 'O ye my errand well shall learn Before that I depart;' Then drew a knife baith lang and sharp And pierced him thro the heart.
10 Then up it got the Queen hersell, And fell low down on her knee: 'O spare my life now, Fa'se Footrage! For I never injured thee.
11 'O spare my life now, Fa'se Footrage! Until I lighter be, And see gin it be lad or lass King Honor has left me wi.'
12 'O gin it be a lass,' he says, 'Well nursed she shall be; But gin it be a lad-bairn, He shall be hanged hie.
13 'I winna spare his tender age, Nor yet his hie, hie kin; But as soon as eer he born is, He shall mount the gallows-pin.'
14 O four and twenty valiant knights Were set the Queen to guard, And four stood ay at her bower-door, To keep baith watch and ward.
15 But when the time drew till an end That she should lighter be, She cast about to find a wile To set her body free.
16 O she has birled these merry young men Wi strong beer and wi wine, Until she made them a' as drunk As any wallwood swine.
17 'O narrow, narrow is this window, And big, big am I grown!' Yet thro the might of Our Ladie Out at it she has won.
18 She wanderd up, she wanderd down, She wanderd out and in, And at last, into the very swines' stye, The Queen brought forth a son.
19 Then they cast kaivles them amang Wha should gae seek the Queen, And the kaivle fell upon Wise William, And he's sent his wife for him.
20 O when she saw Wise William's wife, The Queen fell on her knee; 'Win up, win up, madame,' she says, 'What means this courtesie?'
21 'O out of this I winna rise Till a boon ye grant to me, To change your lass for this lad-bairn King Honor left me wi.
22 'And ye maun learn my gay gose-hawke Well how to breast a steed, And I shall learn your turtle-dow As well to write and read.
23 'And ye maun learn my gay gose-hawke To wield baith bow and brand, And I shall learn your turtle-dow To lay gowd wi her hand.
24 'At kirk or market where we meet, We dare nae mair avow But, Dame how does my gay gose-hawk? Madame, how does my dow?'
25 When days were gane, and years came on, Wise William he thought long; Out has he taen King Honor's son, A hunting for to gang.
26 It sae fell out at their hunting, Upon a summer's day, That they cam by a fair castle, Stood on a sunny brae.
27 'O dinna ye see that bonny castle, Wi wa's and towers sae fair? Gin ilka man had back his ain, Of it you shoud be heir.'
28 'How I shoud be heir of that castle In sooth I canna see, When it belongs to Fa'se Footrage, And he's nae kin to me.'
29 'O gin ye shoud kill him Fa'se Footrage, You woud do what is right; For I wot he killd your father dear, Ere ever you saw the light.
30 'Gin ye should kill him Fa'se Footrage, There is nae man durst you blame; For he keeps your mother a prisoner, And she dares no take you hame.'
31 The boy stared wild like a gray gose-hawke, Says, What may a' this mean! 'My boy, you are King Honor's son, And your mother's our lawful queen.'
32 'O gin I be King Honor's son, By Our Ladie I swear, This day I will that traytour slay, And relieve my mother dear.'
33 He has set his bent bow till his breast, And lap the castle-wa, And soon he's siesed on Fa'se Footrage, Wha loud for help gan ca.
34 'O hold your tongue now, Fa'se Footrage, Frae me you shanno flee;' Syne pierced him through the foul fa'se heart, And set his mother free.
35 And he has rewarded Wise William Wi the best half of his land, And sae has he the turtle-dow Wi the truth of his right hand.
B
Motherwell's MS., p. 341.
1 The Eastmure king, and the Westmure king, And the king of Onorie, They have all courted a pretty maid, And guess wha she micht be.
2 The Eastmure king courted her for gold, And the Westmure king for fee, The king of Onore for womanheid, And for her fair beautie.
3 The Eastmure king swore a solemn oath, He would keep it till May, That he would murder the king of Onore, Upon his wedding day.
4 When bells was rung, and psalms was sung. And all men boune for sleep, Up and started the Eastmure king At the king of Onore's head.
5 He has drawn the curtains by-- Their sheets was made of dorn-- And he has murdered the king of Onore, As innocent as he was born.
6 This maid she awak'd in the middle of the night, Was in a drowsy dream; She found her bride's-bed swim with blood, Bot and her good lord slain.
7 'What will the court and council say? What will they say to me? What will the court and council say But this night I've murderd thee?'
8 Out and speaks the Eastmure king: 'Hold your tongue, my pretty may, And come along with me, my dear, And that court ye'll never see.'
9 He mounted her on a milk-white steed, Himself upon a gray; She turnd her back against the court, And weeping rode away.
10 'Now if you be with child,' he says, 'As I trew well you be, If it be of a lassie-bairn, I'll give her nurses three.
11 'If it be a lassie-bairn, If you please she'll get five; But if it be a bonnie boy, I will not let him live.'
12 Word is to the city gone, And word is to the town, And word is to the city gone, She's delivered of a son.
13 But a poor woman in the town In the same case does lye, Wha gived to her her woman-child, Took awa her bonnie boy.
14 At kirk or market, whereer they met, They never durst avow, But 'Thou be kind to my boy,' she says, 'I'll be kind to your bonnie dow.'
15 This boy was sixteen years of age, But he was nae seventeen, When he is to the garden gone, To slay that Eastmure king.
16 'Be aware, be aware, thou Eastmure king, Be aware this day of me; For I do swear and do declare Thy botcher I will be.'
17 'What aileth thee, my bonnie boy? What aileth thee at me? I'm sure I never did thee wrang; Thy face I neer did see.'
18 'Thou murdered my father dear, When scarse conceived was I; Thou murdered my father dear, When scarse conceived was me:' So then he slew that Eastmure king, Beneath that garden tree.
C
Harris MS., No 18, fol. 22: derived from Jannie Scott, an old Perthshire nurse, about 1790.
1 Eastmuir king, and Wastmuir king, And king o Luve, a' three, It's they coost kevils them amang, Aboot a gay ladie.
2 Eastmuir king he wan the gowd, An Wastmuir king the fee, But king o Luve, wi his lands sae broad, He's won the fair ladie.
3 Thae twa kings, they made an aith, That, be it as it may, They wad slay him king o Luve, Upon his waddin day.
4 Eastmuir king he brak his aith, An sair penance did he; But Wastmuir king he made it oot, An an ill deid mat he dee!
* * * * *
#B.#
4^4. Onore's feet _originally_.
5^3. Onores.
[144] "As far as he can remember, the old woman gave the story in fewer verses." Christie gives the ballad from Scott (omitting stanzas 10-18), "with slight alterations from the way she sung it." These alterations are: 1^1, has _omitted_. 4^1, Then some _for_ O some. 26^3, fair castle _for_ bonny castle (bonny in Scott, 1833; fair in Scott, 1802). 29^2, is right _for_ was right. 29^4. Ere ever you _for_ Or ever ye. Dean Christie's memory, it seems, retains the most inconsiderable variations, while it is not so good for larger things. See the note at Christie, I, 128, 'Willie and Earl Richard's Daughter,' in this volume, and other ballads.
90
JELLON GRAME.
#A. a.# 'Jellon Grame and Lillie Flower,' A. Fraser Tytler's Brown MS., No 4. #b.# 'Jellon Grame,' Scott's Minstrelsy, II, 20, 1802.
#B.# 'Hind Henry,' Motherwell's MS., p. 443.
#C.# 'May-a-Row,' Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 231.
#D.# 'Lady Margerie,' Cromek's Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song, p. 222.
'Jellon Grame' was first given to the world in Scott's Minstrelsy, in 1802. The editor says of this copy, #A b#, "This ballad is published from tradition, with some conjectural emendations. It is corrected by a copy in Mrs Brown's MS. [#A a#], from which it differs in the concluding stanzas. Some verses are apparently modernized." The only very important difference between Scott's version and Mrs Brown's is its having four stanzas of its own, the four before the last two, which are evidently not simply modernized, but modern.
There is a material difference between the story furnished by #A# and what we learn from the three other copies. Jellon Grame sends for his love Lillie Flower to come to the wood. She is very eager to go, though warned by the messenger that she may never come back. Jellon Grame, who has already dug her grave, kills her because her father will hang him when it is discovered that she has had a child by him. He brings up the child as his sister's son. One day, when the boy asks why his mother does not take him home, Jellon Grame (very unnaturally) answers, I slew her, and there she lies: upon which the boy sends an arrow through him.
In #B#, #C#, #D#, the man is Henry, Hind Henry, #B#, #C#; the maid is May Margerie, #B#, May-a-Roe, #C#, Margerie, #D#. Margerie, in #B#, receives a message to come to the wood to make her love a shirt, which surprises her, for no month had passed in the year that she had not made him three. Nevertheless, she goes, though warned by her mother that there is a plot against her life. She is stopped in the wood by Hind Henry, who kills her because she loves Brown Robin. Word is carried that Margerie has been slain; her sister hastens to the wood, takes under her care the child which Margerie was going with, and calls him Brown Robin, after his father. The lad goes to the wood one day after school to pull a hollin wand, and meets Hind Henry at the place where the mother had been killed. No grass is growing just there, and the boy asks Hind Henry why this is so. Hind Henry, not less frank than Jellon Grame, says, That is the very spot where I killed your mother. The boy catches at Henry's sword and runs him through.
#C# has nearly the same incidents as #B#, diluted and vulgarized in almost twice as many verses. Brown Robin is made to be Hind Henry's brother. The sister does not appear in the action, and the child is brought up by the murderer, as in #A#, but is named Robin Hood, after that bold robber. On hearing from Hind Henry how his mother had come to her death, young Robin sends an arrow to his heart.
A story is supplied from the "traditions of Galloway" for the fragmentary, and perhaps heterogeneous, verses called #D#; I suppose by Allan Cunningham. Margerie was beloved by two brothers, and preferred the elder. Henry, the younger, forged a billet to her by which he obtained a meeting in a wood, when he reproached her for not returning his feelings: sts 1, 2. "She expostulated with him on the impropriety of bringing her into an unfrequented place for the purpose of winning affections which, she observed, were not hers to bestow;" but expostulations as to improprieties producing but slight effect in "those rude times," told him plainly that she was with child by his brother. Henry drew his sword and killed Margerie. The elder brother, who was hunting, was apprised of mischief by the omens in stanza 4. "Astonished at this singular phenomenon, he immediately flew to the bower of his mistress, where a page informed him she was gone to the 'silver wood,' agreeably to his desire. Thither he spurred his horse, and, meeting Henry with his bloody sword still in his hand, inquired what he had been killing." The other replied as in stanza 5. "A mutual explanation took place, and Henry fell by the sword of his unhappy brother."
The resemblance of this ballad at the beginning to 'Child Maurice' will not escape notice. Silver Wood, or the silver wood, is found in 'Child Maurice,' #A# 1, #G# 1. #A# 14, #B# 10, #C# 15, is a commonplace: see No 66, #A# 28, 29, #B# 20, 21, #D# 9, #E# 40; No 70, #B# 25; No 81, #K# 13. #B# 13 is found in 'Willie and Earl Richard's Daughter,' #B# 24: cf. #A# 15. The phenomenon in #D# 4 we have had in No 65, #D# 17.
'Jellon Grame,' and particularly versions #B#, #C#, #D#, may be regarded as a counterpart to 'Fause Foodrage,' and especially to versions #B#, #C#, of that ballad. In 'Fause Foodrage,' #B#, #C#, and 'Jellon Grame,' #B#, #C#, #D#, a woman has two lovers. The one who is preferred is killed by the other in 'Fause Foodrage;' in 'Jellon Grame' the woman herself is killed by the lover she has rejected. This kind of interchange is familiar in ballads. In both 'Fause Foodrage' and 'Jellon Grame' the son of the woman, before he comes to manhood, takes vengeance on the murderer.
'Jellon Grame,' as well as 'Fause Foodrage,' has certainly suffered very much in transmission. It is interesting to find an ancient and original trait preserved even in so extremely corrupted a version as #C# of the present ballad, a circumstance very far from unexampled. In stanza 18 we read that the child who is to avenge his mother "grew as big in ae year auld as some boys woud in three," and we have a faint trace of the same extraordinary thriving in #B# 15: "Of all the youths was at that school none could with him compare." So in one of the Scandinavian ballads akin to 'Fause Foodrage,' and more remotely to 'Jellon Grame,' the corresponding child grows more in two months than other boys in eight years:
Mei voks unge Ingelbrett í dei maanar tvaa hell híne smaabonni vokse paa aatte aar.
Bugge, Norske Folkeviser, No 23, st. 17, p. 113.
This is a commonplace: so again Bugge, No 5, sts 7, 8, p. 23. Compare Robert le Diable, and Sir Gowther.
In #B# 14 we are told that the boy was called by his father's name (#C# 17 is corrupted). This is a point in the corresponding Scandinavian ballads: Danske Viser, No 126, st. 21, No 127, st. 34; Levninger, No 12, st. 26, No 13, st. 18; Íslenzk fornkvæði, No 28, st. 33b; Bugge, No 23, st. 16; Kristensen, I, No 97, sts 7, 11, No 111, st. 9.
* * * * *
#A b# is translated by Schubart, p. 69; by Arndt, Blütenlese, p. 234.
A
#a.# A. Fraser Tytler's Brown MS., No 4. #b.# Scott's Minstrelsy, II, 20, 1802.
1 O Jellon Grame sat in Silver Wood, He whistled and he sang, And he has calld his little foot-page, His errand for to gang.
2 'Win up, my bonny boy,' he says, 'As quick as eer you may; For ye maun gang for Lillie Flower, Before the break of day.'
3 The boy he's buckled his belt about, And thro the green-wood ran, And he came to the ladie's bower-door, Before the day did dawn.
4 'O sleep ye, or wake ye, Lillie Flower? The red run's i the rain:' 'I sleep not aft, I wake right aft; Wha's that that kens my name?'
5 'Ye are bidden come to Silver Wood, But I fear you'll never win hame; Ye are bidden come to Silver Wood, And speak wi Jellon Grame.'
6 'O I will gang to Silver Wood, Though I shoud never win hame; For the thing I most desire on earth Is to speak wi Jellon Grame.'
7 She had no ridden a mile, a mile, A mile but barely three, Ere she came to a new made grave, Beneath a green oak tree.
8 O then up started Jellon Grame, Out of a bush hard bye: 'Light down, light down now, Lillie Flower, For it's here that ye maun ly.'
9 She lighted aff her milk-white steed, And knelt upon her knee: 'O mercy, mercy, Jellon Grame! For I'm nae prepar'd to die.
10 'Your bairn, that stirs between my sides, Maun shortly see the light; But to see it weltring in my blude Woud be a piteous sight.'
11 'O shoud I spare your life,' he says, 'Until that bairn be born, I ken fu well your stern father Woud hang me on the morn.'
12 'O spare my life now, Jellon Grame! My father ye neer need dread; I'll keep my bairn i the good green wood, Or wi it I'll beg my bread.'
13 He took nae pity on that ladie, Tho she for life did pray; But pierced her thro the fair body, As at his feet she lay.
14 He felt nae pity for that ladie, Tho she was lying dead; But he felt some for the bonny boy, Lay weltring in her blude.
15 Up has he taen that bonny boy, Gien him to nurices nine, Three to wake, and three to sleep, And three to go between.
16 And he's brought up that bonny boy, Calld him his sister's son; He thought nae man would eer find out The deed that he had done.
17 But it sae fell out upon a time, As a hunting they did gay, That they rested them in Silver Wood, Upon a summer-day.
18 Then out it spake that bonny boy, While the tear stood in his eye, 'O tell me this now, Jellon Grame, And I pray you dinna lie.
19 'The reason that my mother dear Does never take me hame? To keep me still in banishment Is baith a sin and shame.'
20 'You wonder that your mother dear Does never send for thee; Lo, there's the place I slew thy mother, Beneath that green oak tree.'
21 Wi that the boy has bent his bow, It was baith stout and lang, And through and thro him Jellon Grame He's gard an arrow gang.
22 Says, Lye you thare now, Jellon Grame, My mellison you wi; The place my mother lies buried in Is far too good for thee.
B
Motherwell's MS., p. 443.
1 Word has come to May Margerie, In her bower where she sat: 'You are bid come to good green-wood, To make your love a shirt.'
2 'I wonder much,' said May Margerie, 'At this message to me; There is not a month gone of this year But I have made him three.'
3 Then out did speak her mother dear, A wise woman was she; Said, Stay at home, my daughter May, They seek to murder thee.
4 'O I'll cast off my gloves, mother, And hang them up, I say; If I come never back again, They will mind you on May.
5 'Go saddle my horseback,' she said, 'It's quick as ever you may, And we will ride to good green-wood; It is a pleasant day.'
6 And when she came to good green-wood, It's through it they did ride; Then up did start him Hind Henry, Just at the lady's side.
7 Says, Stop, O stop, you May Margerie, Just stop I say to thee; The boy that leads your bridle reins Shall see you red and blue.
8 It's out he drew a long, long brand, And stroked it ower a strae, And through and through that lady's sides He made the cauld weapon gae.
9 Says, Take you that now, May Margerie, Just take you that from me, Because you love Brown Robin, And never would love me.
10 There was less pity for that lady, When she was lying dead, As was for her bony infant boy, Lay swathed amang her bleed.
11 The boy fled home with all his might, The tear into his ee: 'They have slain my lady in the wood, With fear I'm like to die.'
12 Her sister's ran into the wood, With greater grief and care, Sighing and sobbing all the way, Tearing her cloaths and hair.
13 Says, I'll take up that fair infant, And lull him on my sleeve; Altho his father should wish me woe, His mother to me was leeve.
14 Now she has taken the infant up, And she has brought him hame, And she has called him Brown Robin, That was his father's name.
15 And when he did grow up a bit, She put him to the lair, And of all the youths was at that school None could with him compare.
16 And it fell once upon a day A playtime it was come, And when the rest went from the school, Each one to their own home,
17 He hied him unto good green-wood, And leapt from tree to tree; It was to pull a hollin wand, To play his ownself wi.
18 And when he thus had passed his time, To go home he was fain, He chanced to meet him Hind Henry, Where his mother was slain.
19 'O how is this,' the youth cried out, 'If it to you is known, How all this wood is growing grass, And on that small spot grows none?'
20 'Since you do wonder, bonnie boy, I shall tell you anon; That is indeed the very spot I killed your mother in.'
21 He catched hold of Henry's brand, And stroked it ower a strae, And thro and thro Hind Henry's sides He made the cauld metal gae.
22 Says, Take you that, O Hind Henry, O take you that from me, For killing of my mother dear, And her not hurting thee.
C
Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 231.
1 When spring appeard in all its bloom, And flowers grew fresh and green, As May-a-Roe she set her down, To lay gowd on her seam.
2 But word has come to that lady, At evening when 't was dark, To meet her love in gude greenwood, And bring to him a sark.
3 'That's strange to me' said May-a-Roe, 'For how can a' this be? A month or twa is scarcely past Sin I sent my lovie three.'
4 Then May-a-Roe lap on her steed, And quickly rade away; She hadna ridden but hauf a mile, Till she heard a voice to say:
5 'Turn back, turn back, ye ventrous maid, Nae farther must ye go; For the boy that leads your bridle rein Leads you to your overthrow.'
6 But a' these words she neer did mind, But fast awa did ride; And up it starts him Hynde Henry, Just fair by her right side.
7 'Ye'll tarry here, perfidious maid, For by my hand ye 'se dee; Ye married my brother, Brown Robin, Whan ye shoud hae married me.'
8 'O mercy, mercy, Hynde Henry, O mercy have on me! For I am eight months gane wi child, Therefore ye'll lat me be.'
9 'Nae mercy is for thee, fair maid, Nae mercy is for thee; You married my brother, Brown Robin, Whan ye shoud hae married me.'
10 'Ye will bring here the bread, Henry, And I will bring the wine, And ye will drink to your ain love, And I will drink to mine.'
11 'I winna bring here the bread, fair maid, Nor yet shall ye the wine, Nor will I drink to my ain love, Nor yet shall ye to thine.'
12 'O mercy, mercy, Hynde Henry, Until I lighter be! Hae mercy on your brother's bairn, Tho ye hae nane for me.'
13 'Nae mercy is for thee, fair maid, Nae mercy is for thee; Such mercy unto you I'll gie As what ye gae to me.'
14 Then he's taen out a trusty brand, And stroakd it ower a strae, And thro and thro her fair body He's gart cauld iron gae.
15 Nae meen was made for that lady, For she was lying dead; But a' was for her bonny bairn, Lay spartling by her side.
16 Then he's taen up the bonny bairn, Handled him tenderlie, And said, Ye are o my ain kin, Tho your mother ill used me.
17 He's washen him at the crystal stream, And rowd him in a weed, And namd him after a bold robber Who was calld Robin Hood.
18 Then brought to the next borough's town, And gae him nurses three; He grew as big in ae year auld As some boys woud in three.
19 Then he was sent to guid squeel-house, To learn how to thrive; He learnd as muckle in ae year's time As some boys would in five.
20 But I wonder, I wonder,' said little Robin, 'Gin eer a woman bare me; For mony a lady spiers for the rest, But nae ane spiers for me.
21 'I wonder, I wonder,' said little Robin, 'Were I of woman born; Whan ladies my comrades do caress, They look at me wi scorn.'
22 It fell upon an evening-tide, Was ae night by it lane, Whan a' the boys frae guid squeel-house Were merrily coming hame,
23 Robin parted frae the rest, He wishd to be alane; And when his comrades he dismist, To guid greenwood he's gane.
24 When he came to guid greenwood, He clamb frae tree to tree, To pou some o the finest leaves, For to divert him wi.
25 He hadna pu'd a leaf, a leaf, Nor brake a branch but ane, Till by it came him Hynde Henry, And bade him lat alane.
26 'You are too bauld a boy,' he said, 'Sae impudent you be, As pu the leaves that's nae your ain, Or yet to touch the tree.'
27 'O mercy, mercy, gentleman, O mercy hae on me! For if that I offence hae done, It was unknown to me.'
28 'Nae boy comes here to guid greenwood But pays a fine to me; Your velvet coat, or shooting-bow, Which o them will ye gie?'
29 'My shooting-bow arches sae well, Wi it I canno part; Lest wer't to send a sharp arrow To pierce you to the heart.'
30 He turnd him right and round about, His countenance did change: 'Ye seem to be a boy right bauld; Why can ye talk sae strange?
31 'I'm sure ye are the bauldest boy That ever I talkd wi; As for your mother, May-a-Roe, She was neer sae bauld to me.'
32 'O, if ye knew my mother,' he said, 'That's very strange to me; And if that ye my mother knew, It's mair than I coud dee.'
33 'Sae well as I your mother knew, Ance my sweet-heart was she; Because to me she broke her vow, This maid was slain by me.'
34 'O, if ye slew my mother dear, As I trust ye make nae lie, I wyte ye never did the deed That better paid shall be.'
35 'O mercy, mercy, little Robin, O mercy hae on me!' 'Sic mercy as ye pae my mother, Sic mercy I'll gie thee.
36 'Prepare yourself, perfidious man, For by my hand ye 'se dee; Now come's that bluidy butcher's end Took my mother frae me.'
37 Then he hae chosen a sharp arrow, That was baith keen and smart, And let it fly at Hynde Henry, And piercd him to the heart.
38 These news hae gaen thro Stirling town, Likewise thro Hunting-ha; At last it reachd the king's own court, Amang the nobles a'.
39 When the king got word o that, A light laugh then gae he, And he's sent for him little Robin, To come right speedilie.
40 He's putten on little Robin's head A ribbon and gowden crown, And made him ane o's finest knights, For the valour he had done.
D
Cromek's Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song, p. 222.
* * * * * * *
1 'D'ye mind, d'ye mind, Lady Margerie, When we handed round the beer? Seven times I fainted for your sake, And you never dropt a tear.
2 'D'ye mind, d'ye mind, Lady Margerie, When we handed round the wine? Seven times I fainted for your sake, And you never fainted once for mine.'
* * * * * * *
3 And he's taen the baby out of her womb And thrown it upon a thorn: 'Let the wind blow east, let the wind blow west, The cradle will rock its lone.'
* * * * * * *
4 But when brother Henry's cruel brand Had done the bloody deed, The silver-buttons flew off his coat, And his nose began to bleed.
* * * * * * *
5 'O I have been killing in the silver wood What will breed mickle woe; I have been killing in the silver wood A dawdy and a doe.'
* * * * * * *
* * * * *
#A. a.#
10^4. piteouus.
#b.#
1^2. he sharpd his broad-sword lang.
1^4. An errand.
2^2. quickly as ye.
3^1. boy has.
3^3. ladye's bower.
4^1. or _omitted._
4^2. red sun's on.
4^{3, 4}. _wanting._
5^{1, 2}. _as_ 4^{3, 4}: I doubt ye'll.
5^{3, 4}. _wanting._
6. _wanting._
7^1. had na.
8^2. there bye.
9^4. no.
11^2. were born.
11^3. Full weel I ken your auld.
12^2. ye need na.
12^3. babe in gude.
13^1. on Lillie Flower.
14^1. for Lillie Flower.
14^2. Where she.
14^3. bonny bairn.
14^4. That lay.
15^3. Three to sleep and three to wake.
16^1. he bred.
16^3. And he thought no eye could ever see.
17^1. O so it fell upon a day.
17^2. When hunting they might be.
17^3. That _omitted._
17^4. Beneath that green aik tree.
18-20. And mony were the green wood flowers Upon the grave that grew, And marvelld much that bonny boy To see their lovely hue.
'What's paler than the prymrose wan? What's redder than the rose? What's fairer than the lilye flower On this wee know that grows?'
O out and answered Jellon Grame, And he spake hastilie; 'Your mother was a fairer flower, And lies beneath this tree.
'More pale she was, when she sought my grace, Than prymrose pale and wan, And redder than rose her ruddy heart's blood, That down my broad-sword ran.'
22^1. Lie ye.
22^2. gang you wi.
#B.#
12^1. sisters ran: into _altered to_ unto.
91
FAIR MARY OF WALLINGTON
#A.# 'Fair Mary of Wellington,' Lovely Jenny's Garland, three copies, as early as 1775.
#B.# 'Lady Mazery,' Herd's MSS: #a#, I, 186; #b#, II, 89.
#C.# 'The Bonny Earl of Livingston,' Alexander Fraser Tytler's Brown MS., No 5.
#D.# 'The Laird o Livingstone,' Dr John Hill Burton's MS., No 2.
#E.# 'Mild Mary,' Motherwell's MS., p. 123.
#F.# 'Lord Darlington.' #a.# Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 183. #b.# The Borderer's Table Book, VII, 178.
'Fair Mary of Wallington' was communicated to Bishop Percy, with other "old Scots Songs," in 1775, by Roger Halt, and presumably in a copy of the garland from which it is here printed. #A# was given by Ritson, from an inferior edition, with corrections, and the title changed to 'Fair Mabel of Wallington,' in The Northumberland Garland, 1793, p. 38 of the reprint of Northern Garlands, 1809. Ritson's copy is repeated in Bell's Rhymes of Northern Bards, 1812, p. 147, and in Richardson's Borderer's Table Book, VI, 141.
The story is very well preserved and very well told in #A#. All the seven sisters of a family are destined to die of their first child. Five having so died already, one of the remaining two expresses a resolution never to marry, since she is sure that she will go the way of the others. She is told that a knight has been there, asking for her hand. Then in three quarters of a year they may come to her burial. When her husband's mother welcomes her to her castle and bowers, the bride responds, under the operation of her melancholy conviction, I think they 'll soon be yours. At the end of three quarters of a year she sends messages to her family: to her mother to come to her sickening or her wake;[145] to her sister to remain in maidenhood, and escape the doom of the family. When the mother arrives the young wife is in extremities.[146] She gives rings to her mother, who is all to blame, gives rings to her husband, and with a razor opens her side, and takes out an heir for the house. In #D# we are told that five boys had been cut from their mothers, Mary's sisters, before. In #B# the remaining sister declares that no man shall ever lie by her side; but her mother says she shall marry though she live but three quarters of a year: so, nearly, in #C#.
A Breton ballad, 'Pontplancoat,' #A#, Luzel, I, 382, #B#, p. 386, exhibits such correspondences with the English and Scottish that we cannot hesitate to assume that it has the same source.
In the first version Pontplancoat marries Marguerite for his third wife. He is obliged by affairs to leave her, and has a dream which disturbs him so much that he returns home the same night. This dream is that his wife has been three days in travail, and it proves true. A spoon is put in the lady's mouth, an incision made in her right side, and a son taken out. This is Pontplancoat's third son, and each of them has been extracted from his mother's side. He has had three wives of the name of Marguerite, and they have all died in this way.
Marguerite, in the other version, is told by her mother that she is to marry Pontplancoat. Marguerite signifies her obedience, but Pontplancoat has already had four wives of her name, all of whom "had been opened," and she shall be the fifth. As before, Pontplancoat is obliged to go away, and during his absence he receives letters which inform him that his wife is in labor and that the chances are against a normal delivery. He returns instantly. The lady has been three days in labor. A silver ball is put into her mouth, her right side opened with a knife, and a son extracted. Pontplancoat has four sons besides, all of whom have been brought into the world in this way.
English #A# is localized in Northumberland, and Mary made the wife of a Sir William Fenwick of Wellington. According to notes of Percy, he had not been able to find a Sir William Fenwick, lord of Wallington, with a wife of the name of Mary. Were a Sir William and Lady Mary Fenwick authenticable, a nice historical question would arise between them and some baron and baroness of the family Pontplancoat in Finistère, Brittany.
An extensively disseminated Scandinavian ballad has been assumed to be of kin with 'Mary of Wallington,' and in one version or another has resemblances which may possibly come from unity of origin, but the general likeness is certainly not striking. The published texts are: #Norwegian#, 'Maalfrí,' Bugge, Gamle norske Folkeviser, p. 122, No 25, #A#, #B#. #Icelandic#, 'Málfríðar kvæði,' Íslenzk fornkvæði, I, 208, No 24, #A#-#D#. #Swedish#, 'Herr Peder och Malfred,' Afzelius, I, 70, No 14. #Danish#, #A#, 'Esben og Malfred,' "Tragica, No 26," Danske Viser, III, 208, No 133; #B#, #C#, Kristensen, I, 232, No 87, #A#, #B#; #D#, #E#, 'Malfreds Død,' Kristensen, II, 232, No 69, #A#, #B#; #F#, 'Liden Malfreds Vise,' Feilberg, Fra Heden, p. 119; #G#, 'Herr Peder og Liden Malfred,' Berggreen's Danske Folkesange, 3d ed., p. 172, No 88. The Danish ballad is preserved in ten manuscripts, and Grundtvig possessed not less than twenty-two traditionary Danish versions and two Swedish, which he did not live to print.
The Norwegian ballad is most like, or least unlike, the English. Maalfrí, a king's only daughter, is married to Karl, king of England. It was spaed to her when she was yet a maid that she should die of her twelfth lying in; she has already born eleven children. The king purposing to leave her for a time, she reminds him of the prophecy. He defies spaewives and goes, but after three days dreams that Maalfrí's cloak is cut in two, that her hair is cut to bits, etc.; and this sends him home, when he learns that two sons have been cut from her side. He throws himself on his sword. Maalfrí, Malfred, is, in the other Norse ballads, also an only daughter, and dies in her twelfth child-birth, in all but Icelandic #B#, #C#, #D#, where the first is fatal to her. There are no other important diversities, and the resemblances in the details of the Norse and the English ballads are these two: the wife being fated to die of her first child in Icelandic #B#, #C#, #D#, and the Cæsarean operation in the Norwegian versions.
It is barely worth mentioning that there is also a German ballad, in which a maid (only eleven years old in most of the versions) begs her mother not to give her to a husband, because she will not live more than a year if married, and dies accordingly in child-birth: 'Hans Markgraf,' "Bothe, Frühlings-Almanach, 1806, p. 132," reprinted in Büsching und von der Hagen's Volkslieder, p. 30, Erlach, II, 136, Mittler, No 133; "Alle bei Gott die sich lieben," Wunderhorn, 1808, II, 250, Erlach, IV, 127, Mittler, No 128; Hoffmann und Richter, Schlesische Volkslieder, p. 12, No 5, Mittler, No 132. To these may be added 'Der Graf und die Bauerntochter,' Ditfurth, II, 8, No 9; 'Der Mutter Fluch,' Meinert, p. 246. In these last it is the mother who objects to the marriage, on account of her daughter's extreme youth.[147]
A
Lovely Jenny's Garland, three copies, as early as 1775, but without place or date.
1 When we were silly sisters seven, sisters were so fair, Five of us were brave knights' wives, and died in childbed lair.
2 Up then spake Fair Mary, marry woud she nane; If ever she came in man's bed, the same gate wad she gang.
3 'Make no vows, Fair Mary, for fear they broken be; Here's been the Knight of Wallington, asking good will of thee.'
4 'If here's been the knight, mother, asking good will of me, Within three quarters of a year you may come bury me.'
5 When she came to Wallington, and into Wallington hall, There she spy'd her mother dear, walking about the wall.
6 'You're welcome, daughter dear, to thy castle and thy bowers;' 'I thank you kindly, mother, I hope they'll soon be yours.'
7 She had not been in Wallington three quarters and a day, Till upon the ground she could not walk, she was a weary prey.
8 She had not been in Wallington three quarters and a night, Till on the ground she coud not walk, she was a weary wight.
9 'Is there neer a boy in this town, who'll win hose and shun, That will run to fair Pudlington, and bid my mother come?'
10 Up then spake a little boy, near unto a-kin; 'Full oft I have your errands gone, but now I will it run.'
11 Then she calld her waiting-maid to bring up bread and wine: 'Eat and drink, my bonny boy, thou'll neer eat more of mine.
12 'Give my respects to my mother, [as] she sits in her chair of stone, And ask her how she likes the news, of seven to have but one.
13 ['Give my respects to my mother, as she sits in her chair of oak, And bid her come to my sickening, or my merry lake-wake.]
14 'Give my love to my brother William, Ralph, and John, And to my sister Betty fair, and to her white as bone.
15 'And bid her keep her maidenhead, be sure make much on 't, For if eer she come in man's bed, the same gate will she gang.'
16 Away this little boy is gone, as fast as he could run; When he came where brigs were broke, he lay down and swum.
17 When he saw the lady, he said, Lord may your keeper be! 'What news, my pretty boy, hast thou to tell to me?'
18 'Your daughter Mary orders me, as you sit in a chair of stone, To ask you how you like the news, of seven to have but one.
19 'Your daughter gives commands, as you sit in a chair of oak, And bids you come to her sickening, or her merry lake-wake.
20 'She gives command to her brother William, Ralph, and John, [And] to her sister Betty fair, and to her white as bone.
21 'She bids her keep her maidenhead, be sure make much on 't, For if eer she came in man's bed, the same gate woud she gang.'
22 She kickt the table with her foot, she kickt it with her knee, The silver plate into the fire, so far she made it flee.
23 Then she calld her waiting-maid to bring her riding-hood, So did she on her stable-groom to bring her riding-steed.
24 'Go saddle to me the black [the black,] go saddle to me the brown, Go saddle to me the swiftest steed that eer rid [to] Wallington.'
25 When they came to Wallington, and into Wallington hall, There she spy'd her son Fenwick, walking about the wall.
26 'God save you, dear son, Lord may your keeper be! Where is my daughter fair, that used to walk with thee?'
27 He turnd his head round about, the tears did fill his ee: ''T is a month,' he said, 'since she took her chambers from me.'
28 She went on ... and there were in the hall Four and twenty ladies, letting the tears down fall.
29 Her daughter had a scope into her cheek and into her chin, All to keep her life till her dear mother came.
30 'Come take the rings off my fingers, the skin it is so white, And give them to my mother dear, for she was all the wite.
31 'Come take the rings off my fingers, the veins they are so red, Give them to Sir William Fenwick, I'm sure his heart will bleed.'
32 She took out a razor that was both sharp and fine, And out of her left side has taken the heir of Wallington.
33 There is a race in Wallington, and that I rue full sare; Tho the cradle it be full spread up, the bride-bed is left bare.
B
Herd's MSS: #a#, I, 186; #b#, II, 89.
1 'When we were sisters seven, An five of us deyd wi child, And there is nane but you and I, Mazery, And we'll go madens mild.'
2 But there came knights, and there came squiers, An knights of high degree; She pleasd hersel in Levieston, Thay wear a comly twa.
3 He has bought her rings for her fingers, And garlands for her hair, The broochis till her bosome braid; What wad my love ha mair? And he has brought her on to Livingston, And made her lady thear.
4 She had na been in Liveingston A twelvemonth and a day, Till she was as big wi bairn As ony lady could gae.
5 The knight he knocked his white fingers, The goude rings flew in twa: 'Halls and bowers they shall go wast Ere my bonny love gie awa!'
6 The knight he knocked his white fingers, The goude rings flew in foure: 'Halls and bowers they shall go waste Eren my bonny lady gie it ore!'
7 The knight he knocked his white fingers, The lady[s] sewed and sung; It was to comfort Lady Mazery, But her life-days wear na long.
8 'O whare will I get a bonny boy, That will win both hoos and shoon, That will win his way to Little Snoddown, To my mother, the Queen?'
9 Up and stands a bonny boy, Goude yellow was his hair; I wish his mother mickle grace at him, And his trew-love mickle mare.
10 'Here am I a bonny boy, That will win baith hoos an shoon, That will win my way to Little Snoddown, To thy mother, the Queen.'
11 'Here is the rings frae my fingers, The garlonds frae my hair, The broches fray my bosom braid; Fray me she'll nere get mare.
12 'Here it is my weeding-goun, It is a' goude but the hem; Gi it to my sister Allen, For she is left now bird her lane.
13 'When you come whare brigs is broken, Ye'l bent your bow and swim; An when ye come whare green grass grows, Ye'l slack your shoon and run.
14 'But when you come to yon castle, Bide neither to chap nor ca, But you'l set your bent bow to your breast, And lightly loup the wa, And gin the porter be half-gate, Ye'll be ben throw the ha.'
15 O when he came whare brigs was broken, He bent his bow and swam; An when he came where green grass grows, He slackd his shoon an ran.
16 And when he came to yon castel, He stayed neither to chap no ca'l, But bent his bow unto his breast, And lightly lap the wa'l; And gin the porter was hafe-gate, He was ben throw the ha'l.
17 'O peace be to you, ladys a'l! As ye sit at your dine Ye ha little word of Lady Mazerë, For she drees mickel pine.
18 'Here is the rings frae her fingers, The garlands frae her hair, The broches frae her bosome brade; Fray her ye'l nere get mare.
19 'Here it is her weeding-goun, It is a' goude but the hem; Ye'll ge it to her sister Allen, For she is left bird her lane.'
20 She ca'd the table wi her foot, And coped it wi her tae, Till siller cups an siller cans Unto the floor did gae.
21 'Ye wash, ye wash, ye bonny boy, Ye wash, and come to dine; It does not fit a bonny boy His errant for to tine.
22 'Ge saddle to me the black, the black, Ge saddle to me the brown, Ge saddle to me the swiftest steed That ever rid frae a town.'
23 The first steed they saddled to her, He was the bonny black; He was a good steed, an a very good steed, But he tiyrd eer he wan the slack.
24 The next steed they saddled to her, He was the bonny brown; He was a good steed, an a very good steed, But he tiyird ere he wan the town.
25 The next steed they saddled to her, He was the bonny white; Fair fa the mair that fo'd the fole That carried her to Mazeree['s] lear!
26 As she gaed in at Leivingston, Thair was na mickel pride; The scobs was in her lovely mouth, And the razer in her side.
27 'O them that marrys your daughter, lady, I think them but a foole; A married man at Martimass, An a widdow the next Yule!'
28 'O hold your toung now, Livingston, Let all your folly abee; I bear the burden in my breast, Mun suffer them to dee.'
29 Out an speaks her Bird Allen, For she spake ay through pride; 'That man shall near be born,' she says, 'That shall ly down by my side.'
30 'O hold your toung now, Bird Allen, Let all your folly abee; For you shall marry a man,' she says, 'Tho ye shoud live but rathes three.'
C
Alexander Fraser Tytler's Brown MS., No 5.
1 'O we were sisters seven, Maisry, And five are dead wi child; There is nane but you and I, Maisry, And we'll go maidens mild.'
2 She hardly had the word spoken, And turnd her round about, When the bonny Earl of Livingston Was calling Maisry out.
3 Upon a bonny milk-white steed, That drank out of the Tyne, And a' was for her Ladie Maisry, To take her hyne and hyne.
4 Upon a bonny milk-white steed, That drank out o the Tay, And a' was for her Lady Maisry, To carry her away.
5 She had not been at Livingston A twelve month and a day, Until she was as big wi bairn As any ladie coud gae.
6 She calld upon her little foot-page, Says, Ye maun run wi speed, And bid my mother come to me, For of her I'll soon have need.
7 'See, there is the brootch frae my hause-bane, It is of gowd sae ried; Gin she winna come when I'm alive, Bid her come when I am dead.'
8 But ere she wan to Livingston, As fast as she coud ride, The gaggs they were in Maisry's mouth, And the sharp sheers in her side.
9 Her good lord wrang his milk-white hands, Till the gowd rings flaw in three: 'Let ha's and bowers and a' gae waste, My bonny love's taen frae me!'
10 'O hold your tongue, Lord Livingston, Let a' your mourning be; For I bare the bird between my sides, Yet I maun thole her to die.'
11 Then out it spake her sister dear, As she sat at her head: 'That man is not in Christendoom Shall gar me die sicken dead.'
12 'O hold your tongue, my ae daughter, Let a' your folly be, For ye shall be married ere this day week Tho the same death you should die.'
D
Dr John Hill Burton's MS., No 2.
1 'Here it is was sisters seven, And five is died with child; Was non but you and I, Hellen, And we'se be maidens mild.'
2 They hadna been maidens o bonny Snawdon A twalvemonth and a day, When lairds and lords a courting came, Seeking Mary away.
3 The bonny laird of Livingstone, He liket Mary best; He gae her a ring, a royal ring, And he wedded her at last.
4 She hed na been lady o Livingstone A twalvemonth and a day, When she did go as big wi bairn As iver a woman could be.
* * * * * * *
7 The knights were wringin their white fingers, And the ladys wer tearin their hair; It was a' for the lady o Livingstone, For a word she never spake mare.
8 Out and spake her sister Hellen, Where she sat by her side; 'The man shall never be born,' she said, 'Shall ever make me his bride.
9 'The man,' she said, 'that would merry me, I'de count him but a feel, To merry me at Whitsunday, And bury me at Yele.'
10 Out and spak her mother dear, Whare she sat by the fire: 'I bare this babe now from my side, Maun suffer her to die.
11 'And I have six boys now to my oyes, And none of them were born, But a hole cut in their mother's side, And they from it were shorne.'
12 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
E
Motherwell's MS., p. 123, from the recitation of Mrs Macqueen, Lochwinnoch.
1 'Arise, arise, dochter,' she said, 'My bidding to obey; The bravest lord in all Scotland This night asked you of me.'
2 'O haud your tongue, mother,' she said, 'These words they do me wrang; For gin I lye in a man's bed, My days will no be lang.
3 'There were seven sisters o us a', We were a' clad in white; And five of them were married, And in child-bed they died.'
4 'Ye shall not be drest in black, Nor sall ye be in broun; But ye'se be drest in shining gowd, To gae glittering thro the town.
5 'Your father sall ride before you,' she said, 'And your brother sall ride ahin; Your horses fore-feet siller shod, And his hind anes wi gowd shall shine.
6 'Wi four and twenty buirdlie men Atween ye and the wun, And four and twenty bonnie mays Atween ye and the sun.
7 'Four and twenty milk-white geese, Stretching their wings sae wide, Blawing the dust aff the high-way, That Mild Mary may ride.'
8 They took to them their milk-white steeds, Set her upon a grey, And wi a napkin in her hand Weeping she rade away.
9 O they rade on that lee-lang nicht, And part o the neist day also, And syne she saw her auld good mother Stand in the gates below.
10 'You'r welcome, welcome, dochter,' she said, 'To your biggins and your bowers;' 'I thank ye kindly, mither,' she said, 'But I doubt they'll sune be yours.'
* * * * * * *
F
#a.# Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 183. #b.# The Borderer's Table Book, VII, 178, communicated by J. H. Dixon; "transcribed from a MS. copy in possession of an antiquarian friend," collated with #a#.
1 'O we were seven brave sisters, Five of us died wi child, And nane but you and I, Maisry, So we'll gae maidens mild.'
2 'O had your tongue, now Lady Margaret, Let a' your folly be; I'll gar you keep your true promise To the lad ayont the sea.'
3 'O there is neither lord nor knight My love shall ever won, Except it be Lord Darlington, And here he winna come.'
4 But when the hour o twall was past, And near the hour o one, Lord Darlington came to the yetts, Wi thirty knights and ten.
5 Then he has wedded Lady Margaret, And brought her oer the sea, And there was nane that lived on earth Sae happy as was she.
6 But when nine months were come and gane Strong travailling took she, And nae physician in the land Could ease her maladie.
7 'Where will I get a little wee boy, Will won baith meat and fee, That will gae on to Seaton's yetts, Bring my mother to me?'
8 'O here am I, a little wee boy, That will won meat and fee, That will gae on to Seaton's yetts, And bring your mother to thee.'
9 Then he is on to Seaton's yetts, As fast as gang could he; Says, Ye must come to Darlington, Your daughter for to see.
10 But when she came to Darlington, Where there was little pride, The scobbs were in the lady's mouth, The sharp sheer in her side.
11 Darlington stood on the stair, And gart the gowd rings flee: 'My ha's and bowers and a' shall gae waste, If my bonny love die for me.'
12 'O had your tongue, Lord Darlington, Let a' your folly be; I boor the bird within my sides, I'll suffer her to die.
13 'But he that marries my daughter, I think he is a fool; If he marries her at Candlemas, She'll be frae him ere Yule.
14 'I had seven ance in companie, This night I go my lane; And when I come to Clyde's water, I wish that I may drown.'
* * * * *
#A.#
_The copy of the garland here used is much more correct than the other two, but still not carefully printed. The garland gives the ballad in eight stanzas of eight verses._
1^1. so were sisters.
6^2. bower: _perhaps we should read_ towers.
8^2. weight, _which makes sense, but, taking rhyme into account, the change seems requisite: cf. 30^2_.
15^2. came: come _in the other copies_.
16^2. swim.
19^1. of aik?
19^2. weary lake-wake? _if so, also 13^2_.
27^1. his eyes.
28^2. downfal.
30^1. finger.
30^2. weight.
31^1. of: veine.
#B. a.#
_Stanzas 5-7 should come after 26, but the changes which have been traditionally made in 7, to adapt the passage to its actual position, render the restoration of the right order impracticable. 7^1 is not comforting._
2^2. An lords?
3^3. brooch is.
12^4. now to bird: _cf. 19^4_.
13^2. bent: _so the other copy_.
13^4. Ye.
14^2. clap nor cae': _cf. 16^2_.
15^1. come.
16^2. war (?).
17^1. a^l.
19^3. to my.
20^2. coped: caped?
21. _After this these lines are struck out_:
Nor yet do (to?) a well-ford made Her errant for to set (let?).
22^1. Ga.
23^4. stack (?).
29^2. throught.
30^4. luve, _in my copy_.
_The spelling is in several places doubtful._
#b# _appears to be a transcript of #a#: the spelling is somewhat regulated._
3^3. broatch is.
6^2. in twa.
8^2. wun.
8^3. will rin.
8^3, 10^3. Little Snod Down.
9^3. of him.
12^4. bird her lane.
16^3. into.
18^3. broch is.
20^2. caped it.
21^{1, 2}. Gae wash.
22^{1, 2, 3}. Go, Go, Gae.
23^4. slack.
25^4. lear _wanting_.
26^3. scobs _wanting_.
30^4. live: rather.
#C.#
10^4. here: e _added in different ink_.
#D.#
1^4. maiden.
7^1. ringin.
9^1. that w^d.
10^3. I hear.
#E.#
6^2. the win' _originally: ~i~ seems to have been changed to_ u.
#F. a.#
13^1. But her.
#b.#
2^4. the lord.
3^2. my true love eer shall be.
3^4. And he winna come here to me.
5^1. It's he.
6^3. And neer a leech in a'.
7^2. That will win meat.
7^4. And bring your.
8. O out then spake the little foot-page, And knelt on bended knee: O here, _etc._
8^2. will win both.
11^1. Lord Darlington.
12^3. side.
13^1. He that marries a daughter o mine.
13^2. I wot.
13^3. Candemas tide.
13^4. at Yule.
14^3. When I come to the salt water.
[145] The stanza which should convey this part of the message is wanting, but may be confidently supplied from the errand-boy's repetition.
[146] The three steeds in #B# 23-25, the tiring out of the black and of the brown, and the endurance of the white, are found in 'Lady Maisry,' No 65, #B#, #C#, #E#, #F#, and this passage perhaps belongs to that ballad. It may, however, have been a commonplace. There is something similar in Bugge, p. 130, No 26 #B#, 6-8, and Landstad, p. 512, No 57, 24-27. For the milk-white geese, #E# 7, see No 66, #C# 22, No 73, #A#, note.
[147] Uhland, Schriften zur Geschichte der Dichtung und Sage, IV, 107, cites the chair of stone in English #A# 12, 18, as bringing to mind Bothe, st. 14, Wunderhorn, st. 12, where the mother sits down auf einen breiten Stein, an ein harten Stein, and breaks her heart. The chair of stone in the English ballad, like the chair of oak, is a customary seat of the mother's, and she is very far from breaking her heart. Nothing can be built on such accidents.
92
BONNY BEE HOM
#A.# 'Bonny Bee Ho'm,' Alexander Fraser Tytler's Brown MS., No 6; Jamieson's Popular Ballads, I, 185.
#B.# 'The Enchanted Ring,' Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 169.
#A# was given from the manuscript by Jamieson "verbatim," that is, with a few slight variations; the first stanza earlier, in the Scots Magazine, October, 1803, p. 700.
For the ring (chain, #A# 7) that makes a man invulnerable, and that which indicates by the discoloration of the stone that his love is dead or untrue, see 'Hind Horn,' I, 200 f; for the vows in #A# 3, 4, #B# 3, 'Clerk Saunders,' at p. 156 f of this volume.[148] The like vows are adopted into a song called 'The Lowlands of Holland,' found in Herd's MSS, I, 97, and inserted in his Scottish Songs, 1776, II, 2; a fragment, but all that concerns us.[149]
1 'My love has built a bony ship, and set her on the sea, With seven score good mariners to bear her company; There's three score is sunk, and three score dead at sea, And the Lowlands of Holland has twin'd my love and me.
2 'My love he built another ship, and set her on the main, And nane but twenty mariners for to bring her hame; But the weary wind began to rise, and the sea began to rout, My love then and his bonny ship turnd withershins about.
3 'There shall neither coif come on my head nor comb come in my hair; There shall neither coal nor candle-light shine in my bower mair; Nor will I love another one until the day I die, For I never lovd a love but one, and he's drowned in the sea.'
4 'O had your tongue, my daughter dear, be still and be content; There are mair lads in Galloway, ye neen nae sair lament:' 'O there is none in Gallow, there's none at a' for me, For I never lovd a love but one, and he's drowned in the sea.'
* * * * *
A
Alexander Fraser Tytler's Brown MS., No 6.
1 By Arthur's Dale as late I went I heard a heavy moan; I heard a ladie lammenting sair, And ay she cried Ohone!
2 'Ohon, alas! what shall I do, Tormented night and day! I never loved a love but ane, And now he's gone away.
3 'But I will do for my true-love What ladies woud think sair; For seven year shall come and go Ere a kaim gang in my hair.
4 'There shall neither a shoe gang on my foot, Nor a kaim gang in my hair, Nor eer a coal nor candle-light Shine in my bower nae mair.'
5 She thought her love had been on the sea, Fast sailling to Bee Hom; But he was in a quiet chamer, Hearing his ladie's moan.
6 'Be husht, be husht, my ladie dear, I pray thee mourn not so; For I am deep sworn on a book To Bee Hom for to go.'
7 She has gien him a chain of the beaten gowd, And a ring with a ruby stone: 'As lang as this chain your body binds, Your blude can never be drawn.
8 'But gin this ring shoud fade or fail, Or the stone shoud change its hue, Be sure your love is dead and gone, Or she has proved untrue.'
9 He had no been at Bonny Bee Hom A twelve month and a day, Till, looking on his gay gowd ring, The stone grew dark and gray.
10 'O ye take my riches to Bee Hom, And deal them presentlie, To the young that canna, the auld that maunna, And the blind that does not see.'
11 Now death has come into his bower, And split his heart in twain; So their twa souls flew up to heaven, And there shall ever remain.
B
Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 169.
1 In Lauderdale I chanc'd to walk, And heard a lady's moan, Lamenting for her dearest dear, And aye she cried, Ohon!
2 'Sure never a maid that eer drew breath Had harder fate than me; I'd never a lad but one on earth, They forc'd him to the sea.
3 'The ale shall neer be brewin o malt, Neither by sea nor land, That ever mair shall cross my hause, Till my love comes to hand.
4 'A handsome lad, wi shoulders broad, Gold yellow was his hair; None of our Scottish youths on earth That with him could compare.'
5 She thought her love was gone to sea, And landed in Bahome; But he was in a quiet chamber, Hearing his lady's moan.
6 'Why make ye all this moan, lady? Why make ye all this moan? For I'm deep sworn on a book, I must go to Bahome.
7 'Traitors false for to subdue Oer seas I'll make me boun, That have trepand our kind Scotchmen, Like dogs to ding them down.'
8 'Weell, take this ring, this royal thing, Whose virtue is unknown; As lang's this ring's your body on, Your blood shall neer be drawn.
9 'But if this ring shall fade or stain, Or change to other hue, Come never mair to fair Scotland, If ye're a lover true.'
10 Then this couple they did part, With a sad heavy moan; The wind was fair, the ship was rare, They landed in Bahome.
11 But in that place they had not been A month but barely one, Till he lookd on his gay gold ring, And riven was the stone.
12 Time after this was not expir'd A month but scarcely three, Till black and ugly was the ring, And the stone was burst in three.
13 'Fight on, fight on, you merry men all, With you I'll fight no more; I will gang to some holy place, Pray to the King of Glore.'
14 Then to the chapel he is gone, And knelt most piteouslie, For seven days and seven nights, Till blood ran frae his knee.
15 'Ye'll take my jewels that's in Bahome, And deal them liberallie, To young that cannot, and old that mannot, The blind that does not see.
16 'Give maist to women in child-bed laid, Can neither fecht nor flee; I hope she's in the heavens high, That died for love of me.'
17 The knights they wrang their white fingers, The ladies tore their hair; The women that neer had children born, In swoon they down fell there.
18 But in what way the knight expir'd, No tongue will eer declare; So this doth end my mournful song, From me ye'll get nae mair.
* * * * *
#A.#
10^3. To the young that canna The auld that that maunna.
#B.#
11^3. Till they.
12^4. And stone.
[148] Also 'Bonny Molly Stewart,' Maidment's Scotish Ballads and Songs, 1859, p. 128, and the Reply to 'Cromlet's Lilt,' Maidment's Scotish Ballads and Songs, Historical and Traditionary, 1868, II, 59.
[149] There are six double stanzas in Johnson's Museum, p. 118, to which Stenhouse, IV, 115, adds a concluding one, the fourth of Herd's. "This ballad," Stenhouse was informed, "was composed about the beginning of the last century by a young widow in Galloway, whose husband was drowned on a voyage to Holland." His authority was probably traditional, and all the information except the date, and, to be accurate, the widowhood, is found in the song itself. Motherwell, Minstrelsy, Introduction, p. lxxii, note 37, observes that neither Herd's nor Johnson's copy is so full "as one which may occasionally be met with in stall editions published about sixty years ago:" 1827. Logan, who prints two vulgar versions, or rather perversions, in which a bridegroom is pressed into the king's sea-service on the night of his marriage, Pedlar's Pack, p. 22, says: "A more lengthened version of the same ballad in the Scotch dialect will be found in Book First of A Selection of Scots Songs, Harmonised.... By Peter Urbani, Professor of Music, Edinburgh, circa 1794." Christie, I, 236, says that 'The Lowlands of Holland' was sung in his father's family, in Aberdeenshire, as far back as the middle of the last century. Herd's copy is translated by Talvj, Charakeristik, p. 594.
93
LAMKIN
#A.# 'Lamkin,' Jamieson's Popular Ballads, I, 176.
#B.# 'Lambert Linkin,' Motherwell's MS., p. 15; Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 290.
#C.# 'Lamerlinkin,' Motherwell's MS., p. 9.
#D.# 'Bold Rankin,' Maidment's New Book of Old Ballads, p. 73; Whitelaw's Book of Scottish Ballads, p. 246, V.
#E.# 'Lambkin,' Kinloch MSS, V, 246; retouched by Kinloch, II, 27.
#F.# 'Long Lankyn.' #a.# Notes and Queries, Second Series, II, 324. #b.# Notes and Queries, Fourth Series, II, 281.
#G.# 'Long Lonkin,' Richardson's Borderer's Table Book, 1846, VIII, 410; Fisher's Drawing Room Scrap Book, 1835, p. 11.
#H.# 'Bauld Rankin,' Kinloch MSS, I, 306.
#I.# Skene MSS, p. 75.
#J.# 'Lammikin,' Kinloch MSS, V, 371.
#K.# 'Long Longkin,' Percy Papers, communicated by Rev. P. Parsons, 1775.
#L.# 'Lamkin,' Motherwell's MS., p. 14.
#M.# 'Cruel Lammikin.' #a.# Dr Joseph Robertson's Note-Book, Adversaria, p. 60. #b.# Kinloch MSS, VI, 31.
#N.# 'Lamkin,' Dr Joseph Robertson's Note-Book, Journal of Excursions, No 2.
#O.# 'Lammikin,' Kinloch MSS, V, 375.
#P.# 'Lammikin,' Herd's MSS, I, 25; Herd's Scottish Songs, 1776, I, 145.
#Q.# 'Lammikin,' Finlay's Scottish Ballads, II, 45.
#R.# 'Lammikin,' Finlay's Scottish Ballads, II, 55.
#S.# 'Lambkin,' Motherwell's Note-Book, fol. 13.
#T.# Recited by Ellen Healy, as sung by a woman living near Killarney.
#U.# 'Lamkin.' #a.# Allingham's Ballad Book, p. xxxiii. #b.# The same, p. 297, No 56.
#V.# Harris MS., No 28, fol. 27b.
'Lammikin: an Old Scotch Ballad,' Aberdeen, Lewis and James Smith, 1862, said to be edited by the Rev. Dr John Burnett Pratt, Episcopal minister at Cruden, Aberdeenshire, is made up of #A#, #B#, #P#, #Q#, #R#, with such alterations as seemed good to the editor, and a few interpolated stanzas.
'Long Lonkin,' edited by A. O. Bell, C. E., York, 1846 (Notes and Queries, Fourth Series, III, 93), I have not seen, but presume it to be a compounded copy.
The story is told without material variation in all the numerous versions. A mason has built a castle for a nobleman, cannot get his pay, and therefore seeks revenge. The name given the builder is Lamkin, #A#, #C#, #E#, #L#, #M#, #N#, #S#, #U#; Lammikin, #J#, #O#, #P#, #Q#; Lankin, Lonkin, #F b#, #G#, #I#; Lantin, #T#; Long Lankyn, or Long Longkin, #F a#, #G#, #K#; Rankin, #D#, #H#; Balankin, or Lambert Linkin, #B#; Balcanqual, #R#. That of the nobleman is Lord Wearie, Weire, #A#, #M#, #P#, #Q#, #U b#; Lord Earie, #N#; Erley, Earley, #J#; Murray, #I#; Arran, #C#; Montgomery, #E#; Cassilis, #S#; he is lord of Prime Castle, #B#. The lord, having occasion to leave his family, fears mischief from the man whom he has wronged, and enjoins his wife to keep the castle well fastened. Precautions are taken, but nevertheless his enemy effects an entrance through some aperture that has not been secured, #B#, #C#, #F#, #G#, #H#, #P#, #R#, #U b#, or by connivance with a nurse, #A#, #D#, #E#, #I#. Most of the servants are away. To get at the lady, Lamkin, as we may call him, by advice of the nurse inflicts some hurt on the babe in the cradle, stabbing it, or "nipping" it, and its cries bring the mother down. The lady proffers large sums of gold to save her life, but Lamkin does not care for gold now. He gloats over his opportunity, and bids the nurse, or a maid-servant, or even one of the daughters of the house, to scour a silver bason to hold the lady's noble blood. The lord has a presentiment of calamity at home, and, returning, finds his house red with the blood of his wife and child. Lamkin is hanged, #B#, #F#, #I#, or burned, #C#, #H#, or boiled in a pot full of lead, #D#. The nurse is burned, #A#, #B#, #D#, #F#, #H#, or hanged, #C#, #Q#, or boiled in a caldron, #I#.[150]
In #K#, the oldest version, except perhaps #P#, which is greatly inferior, Lady Betty is called down by Longkin to see her mother's blood running, then Lady Nelly to see her sister's blood running, Lady Jenny to see Lady Nelly's, etc. In #F#, #T#, the mother, very unnaturally, offers Lamkin her daughter as wife, in ransom of her own life. In #C#, #D#, a servant offers her life for her lady; in #D#, #G#, #K#, a daughter for her mother.
Motherwell remarks, p. lxx of his Minstrelsy, note 27: "There is a 'Lambirkyns wod' near Dupplin, in Perthshire. Can this have got its name from the cruel mason who the ballad assures us 'lived in the wode'? If so, it must be very ancient. It is localized, too, I believe, at Balwearie, in Fifeshire; but there are few places where the ballad is remembered but which have also some ancient edifice in the neighborhood reared by the hands of Lammikin.[151] Indeed, it seems questionable how some Scottish lairds could well afford to get themselves seated in the large castles they once occupied unless they occasionally treated the mason after the fashion adopted in this ballad." And again, at p. 291: "There can be little doubt that the epithet Linkin Mr Lambert acquired from the secrecy and address with which he insinuated him into that notable strength [Prime Castle]. Indeed, all the names of Lammerlinkin, Lammikin, Lamkin, Lankin, Linkin, Belinkin, can easily be traced out as abbreviations of Lambert Linkin." It might be inferred, however, from the mason's seemingly resentful inquiry in #A# 8-11, #J# 3-6, Where's the men, women, bairns, lady, that call me Lamkin? that the view in these particular versions was that Lamkin was a sobriquet applied in derision of the meekness with which the builder had submitted to his injury. Linkin, it will be observed, occurs only in #B#, and it is far more likely that Lamkin, or Lammikin, which is found in a full dozen copies, is a simply ironical designation for the bloody mason, the terror of countless nurseries.[152]
* * * * *
#A# is translated by Talvj, Versuch, etc., p. 571; Allingham's ballad by Knortz, Lieder und Romanzen Alt-Englands, p. 162.
A
Jamieson's Popular Ballads, I, 176, communicated by Mrs Brown.
1 It's Lamkin was a mason good as ever built wi stane; He built Lord Wearie's castle, but payment got he nane.
2 'O pay me, Lord Wearie, come, pay me my fee:' 'I canna pay you, Lamkin, for I maun gang oer the sea.'
3 'O pay me now, Lord Wearie, come, pay me out o hand:' 'I canna pay you, Lamkin, unless I sell my land.'
4 'O gin ye winna pay me, I here sall mak a vow, Before that ye come hame again, ye sall hae cause to rue.'
5 Lord Wearie got a bonny ship, to sail the saut sea faem; Bade his lady weel the castle keep, ay till he should come hame.
6 But the nourice was a fause limmer as eer hung on a tree; She laid a plot wi Lamkin, whan her lord was oer the sea.
7 She laid a plot wi Lamkin, when the servants were awa, Loot him in at a little shot-window, and brought him to the ha.
8 'O whare's a' the men o this house, that ca me Lamkin?' 'They're at the barn-well thrashing; 'twill be lang ere they come in.'
9 And whare's the women o this house, that ca me Lamkin?' 'They're at the far well washing; 'twill be lang ere they come in.'
10 'And whare's the bairns o this house, that ca me Lamkin?' 'They're at the school reading; 'twill be night or they come hame.'
11 'O whare's the lady o this house, that ca's me Lamkin?' 'She's up in her bower sewing, but we soon can bring her down.'
12 Then Lamkin's tane a sharp knife, that hang down by his gaire, And he has gien the bonny babe a deep wound and a sair.
13 Then Lamkin he rocked, and the fause nourice sang, Till frae ilkae bore o the cradle the red blood out sprang.
14 Then out it spak the lady, as she stood on the stair: 'What ails my bairn, nourice, that he's greeting sae sair?
15 'O still my bairn, nourice, O still him wi the pap!' 'He winna still, lady, for this nor for that.'
16 'O still my bairn, nourice, O still him wi the wand!' 'He winna still, lady, for a' his father's land.'
17 'O still my bairn, nourice, O still him wi the bell!' 'He winna still, lady, till ye come down yoursel.'
18 O the firsten step she steppit, she steppit on a stane; But the neisten step she steppit, she met him Lamkin.
19 'O mercy, mercy, Lamkin, hae mercy upon me! Though you've taen my young son's life, ye may let mysel be.'
20 'O sall I kill her, nourice, or sall I lat her be?' 'O kill her, kill her, Lamkin, for she neer was good to me.'
21 'O scour the bason, nourice, and mak it fair and clean, For to keep this lady's heart's blood, for she's come o noble kin.'
22 'There need nae bason, Lamkin, lat it run through the floor; What better is the heart's blood o the rich than o the poor?'
23 But ere three months were at an end, Lord Wearie came again; But dowie, dowie was his heart when first he came hame.
24 'O wha's blood is this,' he says, 'that lies in the chamer?' 'It is your lady's heart's blood; 'tis as clear as the lamer.'
25 'And wha's blood is this,' he says, 'that lies in my ha?' 'It is your young son's heart's blood; 'tis the clearest ava.'
26 O sweetly sang the black-bird that sat upon the tree; But sairer grat Lamkin, when he was condemnd to die.
27 And bonny sang the mavis, out o the thorny brake; But sairer grat the nourice, when she was tied to the stake.
B
Motherwell's MS., p. 15; from the recitation of Mrs Thomson, Kilbarchan, February 25, 1825.
1 Balankin was as gude a mason as eer picked a stane; He built up Prime Castle, but payment gat nane.
2 The lord said to his lady, when he was going abroad, O beware of Balankin, for he lyes in the wood.
3 The gates they were bolted, baith outside and in; At the sma peep of a window Balankin crap in.
4 'Good morrow, good morrow,' said Lambert Linkin: 'Good morrow to yoursell, sir,' said the false nurse to him.
5 'O where is your good lord?' said Lambert Linkin: 'He's awa to New England, to meet with his king.'
6 'O where is his auld son?' said Lambert Linkin: 'He's awa to buy pearlings, gin our lady lye in.'
7 'Then she'll never wear them,' said Lambert Linkin: 'And that is nae pity,' said the false nurse to him.
8 'O where is your lady?' said Lambert Linkin: 'She's in her bower sleeping,' said the false nurse to him.
9 'How can we get at her?' said Lambert Linkin: 'Stab the babe to the heart, wi a silver bokin.'
10 'That would be a pity,' said Lambert Linkin: 'No pity, no pity,' said the false nurse to him.
11 Balankin he rocked, and the false nurse she sang, Till all the tores of the cradle wi the red blood down ran.
12 'O still my babe, nurice, O still him wi the knife!' 'He'll no be still, lady, tho I lay doun my life.'
13 'O still my babe, nurice, O still him wi the kame!' 'He'll no be still, lady, till his daddy come hame.'
14 'O still my babe, nurice, O still him wi the bell!' 'He'll no be still, lady, till ye come doun yoursell.'
15 'It's how can I come down, this cauld winter nicht, Without eer a coal, or a clear candle-licht?'
16 'There's two smocks in your coffer, as white as a swan; Put one of them about you, it will shew you licht down.'
17 She took ane o them about her, and came tripping doun; But as soon as she viewed, Balankin was in.
18 'Good morrow, good morrow,' said Lambert Linkin: 'Good morrow to yoursell, sir,' said the lady to him.
19 'O save my life, Balankin, till my husband come back, And I'll gie you as much red gold as you'll hold in your hat.'
20 'I'll not save your life, lady, till your husband come back, Tho you would give me as much red gold as I could hold in a sack.
21 'Will I kill her?' quo Balankin, 'will I kill her, or let her be?' 'You may kill her,' said the false nurse, 'she was neer good to me; And ye'll be laird of the castle, and I'll be ladie.'
22 Then he cut aff her head fram her lily breast-bane, And he hung't up in the kitchen, it made a' the ha shine.
23 The lord sat in England, a drinking the wine: 'I wish a' may be weel with my lady at hame; For the rings of my fingers the're now burst in twain!'
24 He saddled his horse, and he came riding doun, But as soon as he viewed, Balankin was in.
25 He had na weel stepped twa steps up the stair, Till he saw his pretty young son lying dead on the floor.
26 He had not weel stepped other twa up the stair, Till he saw his pretty lady lying dead in despair.
27 He hanged Balankin out over the gate, And he burnt the fause nurice, being under the grate.
C
Motherwell's MS., p. 9: from Edward King, weaver, Kilbarchan, taken from the recitation of his mother, an old woman.
1 Lamerlinkin, as gude a mason as eer laid a stane, Built a house to Lord Arran, but entrance had nane.
2 Says the lord to his lady, when going abroad, Take care of Lamerlinkin, wha bides in the wood.
3 'I care not for Lamkin, nor none of his kin; My house is plastered outside, and bolted within.'
4 The gates they were locked, baith outside and in, But there was a wee hole that let Lamkin creep in.
5 'Good woman, good woman,' said Lamerlinkin: 'Good woman, good woman,' said the fause nurse to him.
6 'Where's the lord o this house? is he not within?' 'He's up in Old England, he's dining wi the king.'
7 'Where's the lady of this house? or is she not within?' 'She's up in her high room, and cannot come down.'
8 'Where is the maids o this house? or are they not within?' 'They are at the well washing, and cannot get in.'
9 'Where is the men o this house? or are they not within?' 'They are at the barn threshing, and cannot win hame.'
10 'O what will I do, to mak her come doun?' 'We'll kill her auld son, to mak her come doun.'
11 He took out a pen-knife, baith pointed and sharp, And he stabbed the babie three times in the heart.
12 Lamerlinkin did rock, and the fause nurse did sing; Ower the four-cornered cradle the red blood did spring.
13 'O please my babie, nurse, O please him wi wands!' 'He'll no be pleased, madam, for a' his father's lands.'
14 'O please my babie, nurse, O please him wi keys!' 'He'll no be pleased, madam, let me do what I please.'
15 'O please my babie, nurse, O please him with bells!' 'He'll no be pleased, madam, till you come down yoursell.
16 'How can I come doun this cold frosty night, Without coal or candle for to shew me light?'
17 'The gold rings on your finger are bright as the sun; You may see to cum doun the stair with the light o them.'
18 O then she came doun the stair, stepping step by step; So ready was Lamkin to grip her in his lap.
19 'Save my life, Lamkin, till five minutes break, And I'll give thee gold, the fu o a peck.'
20 'I'll no save your life, till five minutes break, Tho thou should give me gold, the fu of a sack.'
21 'O Jeany, O Jeany, O scour the bason clean, That your lady's noble blood may be kepped clean.'
22 'O no, no, no, Lambkin, my heart will be sare; O take my life, Lambkin, let my lady go.'
* * * * * * *
23 He sent for the false nurse, to give her her fee; All the fee that he gave her was to hang her on a tree.
24 He sent for Lamerlinkin, to give him his hire; All the hire that he gave him was to burn him in the fire.
D
Maidment's New Book of Old Ballads, p. 73, No XX; Whitelaw's Book of Scottish Ballads, p. 246, No V: from a manuscript copy, in the possession of W. H. Logan, Edinburgh, derived from oral tradition.
1 Said the lord to his lady, Beware of Rankin; For I am going to England, to wait on the king.
2 'No fears, no fears,' said the lady, said she, 'For the doors shall be bolted, and the windows pindee.
3 'Go bar all the windows, both outside and in; Don't leave a window open, to let Bold Rankin in.'
4 She has barred all the windows, both outside and in; But she left one of them open, to let Bold Rankin in.
5 'O where is the master of this house?' said Bold Rankin; 'He's up in Old England,' said the false nurse to him.
6 'O where is the mistress of this house?' said Bold Rankin; 'She's up in the chamber sleeping,' said the false nurse to him.
7 'O how shall we get her down?' said Bold Rankin; 'By piercing the baby,' said the false nurse to him.
8 'Go please the baby, nursy, O go please it with a bell;' 'It will not be pleased, madam, till you come down yoursel.'
9 'How can I come down stairs, so late into the night, Without coal or candle, to shew me the light?
10 'There is a silver bolt lies on the chest-head; Give it to the baby, give it sweet milk and bread.'
11 She rammed the silver bolt up the baby's nose, Till the blood it came trinkling down the baby's fine clothes.
12 'Go please the baby, nursie, go please it with the bell:' 'It will not please, madam, till you come down yoursel.
13 'It will neither please with breast-milk, nor yet with pap; But I pray, loving lady, Come and roll it in your lap.'
14 The first step she stepit, she steppit on a stone; And the next step she stepit, she met Bold Rankin.
15 'O Rankin, O Rankin, spare me till twelve o'clock, And I will give you as many guineas as you can carry on your back.'
16 'What care I for as many guineas as seeds into a sack, When I cannot keep my hands off your lily-white neck?'
17 'O will I kill her, nursie, or let her abee?' 'O kill her,' said the false nurse, 'she was never good to me.'
18 'Go scour the bason, lady, both outside and in, To hold your mother's heart's blood, sprung from a noble kin.'
19 'To hold my mother's heart's blood would make my heart full woe; O rather kill me, Rankin, and let my mother go.'
20 'Go scour the bason, servants, both outside and in, To hold your lady's heart's blood, sprung from a noble kin.'
21 'To hold my lady's heart's blood would make my heart full woe; O rather kill me, Rankin, and let my lady go.'
22 'Go scour the bason, nursy, both outside and in, To hold your lady's heart's blood, sprung from a noble kin.'
23 'To hold my lady's heart's blood would make my heart full glad; Ram in the knife, Bold Rankin, and gar the blood to shed.
24 'She's none of my comrades, she's none of my kin; Ram in the knife, Bold Rankin, and gar the blood rin.'
25 'O will I kill her, nursy, or let her abee?' 'O kill her,' said the false nurse, 'she was never good to me.'
* * * * * * *
26 'I wish my wife and family may be all well at home; For the silver buttons of my coat they will not stay on.'
27 As Betsy was looking oer her window so high, She saw her dear father come riding by.
28 'O father, dear father, don't put the blame on me It was false nurse and Rankin that killed your lady.'
29 O was n't that an awful sight, when he came to the stair, To see his fairest lady lie bleeding there!
30 The false nurse was burnt on the mountain hill-head, And Rankin was boiled in a pot full of lead.
E
Kinloch MSS, V, 246, from Mary Barr.
1 Lambkin was as good a mason as ever laid stone; He builded Lord Montgomery's castle, but payment got none.
2 He builded the castle without and within; But he left an open wake for himself to get in.
3 Lord Montgomery said to his lady, when he went abroad, Take care of Bold Lambkin, for he is in the wood.
4 'Gar bolt the gate, nourice, without and within, Leave not the wake open, to let Bold Lambkin in.'
5 She bolted the gates, without and within, But she left the wake open, to let Bold Lambkin in.
6 'Gude morrow, gude morrow,' says Bold Lambkin then; 'Gude morrow, gude morrow,' says the false nurse to him.
7 'Where is Lord Montgomery? or where is he gone?' 'He is gone up to England, to wait on the king.'
8 'Where are the servants? and where are they gone?' 'They are all up to England, to wait upon him.'
9 'Where is your lady? or where is she gone?' 'She is in her bower sitting, and sewing her seam.'
10 'O what shall we do for to make her come down?' 'We'll kill the pretty baby, that's sleeping so sound.'
11 Lambkin he rocked, and the false nurse she sung, And she stabbed the babe to the heart with a silver bodkin.
12 'O still my babe, nourice, O still him with the pap:' 'He'll no be stilled, madam, for this nor for that.'
13 'O still my babe, nourice, go still him with the keys:' 'He'll no be stilled, madam, let me do what I please.'
14 'O still my babe, nourice, go still him with the bell:' 'He'll no be stilled, madam, till you come down yoursel.'
15 'How can I come down, this cold winter night, When there's neither coal burning, nor yet candle-light?'
16 'The sark on your back is whiter than the swan; Come down the stair, lady, by the light of your hand.'
17 The lady she cam down the stair trip for trap; Who so ready as Bold Lambkin to meet her in the dark?
18 'Gude morrow, gude morrow,' said Bold Lambkin then; 'Gude morrow, gude morrow,' said the lady to him.
19 'O where is Lord Montgomery? or where is he gone?' 'O he is up to England, to wait on the king.'
20 'O where are your servants? or where are they gone?' 'They are all up to England, to wait upon him.
21 'I'll give you as much gold, Lambkin, as you'll put in a peck, If you'll spare my life till my lord comes back.'
22 'Tho you would [give] me as much as I could put in a sack, I would not spare thy life till thy lord comes back.'
23 Lord Montgomery sate in England, drinking with the king; The buttons flew off his coat, all in a ring.
24 'God prosper, God prosper my lady and son! For before I get home they will all be undone.'
F
#a.# Notes and Queries, Second Series, II, 324, as sung by a nurse nearly a century ago [1856] in Northumberland. #b.# Notes and Queries, Fourth Series, II, p. 281, from Northamptonshire, communicated by Mr B. H. Cowper.
1 Said my lord to his ladye, as he mounted his horse, (_bis_) Take care of Long Lankyn, who lies in the moss. (_bis_)
2 Said my lord to his ladye, as he rode away, Take care of Long Lankyn, who lies in the clay.
3 Let the doors be all bolted, and the windows all pinned, And leave not a hole for a mouse to creep in.
4 Then he kissed his fair ladye, and he rode away; He must be in London before break of day.
5 The doors were all bolted, and the windows were pinned, All but one little window, where Long Lankyn crept in.
6 'Where is the lord of this house?' said Long Lankyn: 'He is gone to fair London,' said the false nurse to him.
7 'Where is the ladye of this house?' said Long Lankyn: 'She's asleep in her chamber,' said the false nurse to him.
8 'Where is the heir of this house?' said Long Lankyn: 'He's asleep in his cradle,' said the false nurse to him.
* * * * * * *
9 'We'll prick him, and prick him, all over with a pin, And that will make your ladye to come down to him.'
10 So he pricked him and pricked, all over with a pin, And the nurse held a basin for the blood to run in.
11 'Oh nurse, how you sleep! Oh nurse, how you snore!' And you leave my little son Johnstone to cry and to roar.'
12 'I've tried him with suck, and I've tried him with pap; So come down, my fair ladye, and nurse him in your lap.'
13 'Oh nurse, how you sleep! Oh nurse, how you snore! And you leave my little son Johnstone to cry and to roar.'
14 'I've tried him with apples, I've tried him with pears; So come down, my fair ladye, and rock him in your chair.'
15 'How can I come down, 'tis so late in the night, When there's no candle burning, nor fire to give light?'
16 'You have three silver mantles as bright as the sun; So come down, my fair ladye, by the light of one.'
* * * * * * *
17 'Oh spare me, Long Lankyn, oh spare me till twelve o'clock, You shall have as much gold as you can carry on your back.'
18 'If I had as much gold as would build me a tower,' . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
19 'Oh spare me, Long Lankyn, oh spare me one hour, You shall have my daughter Betsy, she is a sweet flower.'
20 'Where is your daughter Betsy? she may do some good; She can hold the silver basin, to catch your heart's blood.'
* * * * * * *
21 Lady Betsy was sitting in her window so high, And she saw her father, as he was riding by.
22 'Oh father, oh father, don't lay the blame on me; 'Twas the false nurse and Long Lankyn that killed your ladye.'
* * * * * * *
23 Then Long Lankyn was hanged on a gallows so high, And the false nurse was burnt in a fire just by.
G
Richardson's Borderer's Table Book, VIII, 410, 1846, communicated by Mrs Blackett, Newcastle, as taken down from the recitation of an old woman of Ovington, Northumberland, "several years ago;" previously in Fisher's Drawing Room Scrap Book, 1835, p. 11.
1 The lord said to his ladie, as he mounted his horse, Beware of Long Lonkin, that lies in the moss.
2 The lord said to his ladie, as he rode away, Beware of Long Lonkin, that lies in the clay.
3 'What care I for Lonkin, or any of his gang? My doors are all shut, and my windows penned in.'
4 There were six little windows, and they were all shut, But one little window, and that was forgot.
5 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . And at that little window long Lonkin crept in.
6 'Where's the lord of the hall?' says the Lonkin: 'He's gone up to London,' says Orange to him.
7 'Where's the men of the hall?' says the Lonkin: 'They're at the field ploughing,' says Orange to him.
8 'Where's the maids of the hall?' says the Lonkin: 'They're at the well washing,' says Orange to him.
9 'Where's the ladies of the hall?' says the Lonkin: 'They're up in their chambers,' says Orange to him.
10 'How shall we get them down?' says the Lonkin: 'Prick the babe in the cradle,' says Orange to him.
11 'Rock well my cradle, and bee-ba my son; You shall have a new gown when the lord he comes home.'
12 Still she did prick it, and bee-ba she cried: 'Come down, dearest mistress, and still your own child.'
13 'Oh still my child, Orange, still him with a bell:' 'I can't still him, ladie, till you come down yoursell.'
* * * * * * *
14 'Hold the gold basin, for your heart's blood to run in,' . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
15 'To hold the gold basin, it grieves me full sore; Oh kill me, dear Lonkin, and let my mother go.'
H
Kinloch MSS, I, 306.
1 Bauld Rankin was as gude a mason as eer biggit wi stane; He has biggit a bonny castle, but siller he gat nane.
* * * * * * *
2 'Gae bar the gates,' the lady said, 'gae bar them out and in; Leave not a door open, lest Rankin should come in.'
3 They've bard them on the outer side, sae hae they on the in; But left the cellar-door open, and Bauld Rankin crap in.
4 'Where's a' the women o the house?' says Bauld Rankin: 'They're at the well washing,' says the fause nurse to him.
5 'Where's a' the men of this house?' says the Bauld Rankin: 'They are at the barn thrashing,' says the fause nurse to him.
6 'Where's the lady of this house?' says the Bauld Rankin: 'She's in the chamber, sleeping,' says the fause nurse to him.
7 'How will we get her wakent? how will we get her down?' 'We'll pierce the baby's heart's blood,' says the fause nurse to him.
* * * * * * *
8 'Come, please the babe, nurse, come please it wi the keys:' 'It'll no be pleased, madam, tho I'll down on my knees.'
9 'Come, please the babe, nurse, come, please it wi the knife:' 'It'll no be pleased, madam, should I lay down my life.'
10 'Come, please the babe, nurse, come, please it wi the bell:' 'It'll no be pleased, madam, till ye come down yoursel.'
11 'How can I come down, how can I come, sae late in the night, And neither coal nor candle, for to shew me light?'
12 The first step she steppit, she steppit on a stane; The next step she steppit, she met the Bauld Rankin.
13 'O spare my life, Rankin, O spare it most dear! I'll gie you as monie guineas as birds in the air.
14 'O spare my life, Rankin, O save it most sweet! I'll gie you as monie guineas as there's stanes in the street.'
* * * * * * *
15 'I wish my wife and bairns may be all well at hame; For the buttons on my waistcoat they winna bide on.
16 'I wish my wife and family may be all well at home; For the rings upon my fingers they winna bide on.'
* * * * * * *
17 He has kindled a big bane-fire, in the middle o the closs, And he has burned Bauld Rankin, likewise the fause nurse.
I
Skene MSS, p. 75, North of Scotland, 1802-03.
1 Lanckin was as guid a mason as ever did use stane; He biggit Lord Murray's house, an payment neer got nane.
2 It fell ance on a day Lord Murray went frae hame, An Lankin came to the fause nourice, . . . . . . .
* * * * * * *
3 'O still my bairn, nourice, still him wi the knife:' 'He winna still, lady, Tho I should lay down my life.'
4 'O still my bairn, nurice, still him wi the bell:' 'He winna still, lady, till ye come down yersel.'
5 The first [step she steppit], she came on the marble stane; The next step [she steppit], she met him Lankin.
6 'O spare my life, Lankin, an I'll gie ye a peck o goud; An that dinna please ye, I'll heap it wi my hand.'
7 'O will I kill the lady, nurice, or will I lat her be?' 'O kill her, Lankin, she was never guid to me.'
8 'O wanted ye yer meat, nurice? or wanted ye yer fee? Or wanted ye the othir bounties ladys are wont to gie?'
9 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 'O kill her, Lankin, she was never guid to me.'
10 'Gae wash a bason, nurice, an ye wash it clean, To cape this ladie's blood; she is come o high kine.'
11 'I winna wash a bason, nor will I wash it clean, To cape this ladie's blood, tho she's come o high kine.'
* * * * * * *
12 Bonny sang yon bird, as he sat upon the tree, But sare grat Lankin, for he was hangit hie.
13 Bonny sang the bird, that sat upon the hill, But sare grat the nurice, whan the caudron gan to boil.
14 . . . . . . . Lankin was hangit hie, And the fause nourice burnt in the caudron was she.
J
Kinloch MSS, V, 371, in the handwriting of Dr John Hill Burton.
1 O Lammikin was as good a mason as ever bigget stane; He's bigget Lord Erley's castle, but money he got nane.
2 It fell out upon a time Lord Earley went from home; He left his lady in his castle, but and his young son.
* * * * * * *
3 'Where is the lord o this house, that calls me Lammikin?' 'He's on the sea sailing, he will not come home.'
4 'Where are the men o this house, that call me Lammikin?' 'They are at the barn threshing, they will not come in.'
5 'Where are the maids of this house, that call me Lammikin?' 'They are at the well washing, they will not come in.'
6 'Where is the lady o this house, that calls me Lammikin?' 'She's in her room shewing, she will not come down.'
7 'How shall we contrive for to make her come down?' 'We'll stick her dear infant, and make her come down.'
8 O Lammikin he rocket, and the fause nurice sung, While out o the cradle the infant's blude sprung.
9 'O still my bairn, nurice,' the lady did cry: 'He will not still, lady, for you nor for I.'
10 'O still my bairn, nurice, still him wi the wan:' 'He will not still, lady, for a' his father's lan.'
11 'Oh still my bairn, nurice, still him wi the keys:' 'Oh he winna still, lady, for a' his father's leys.'
12 'Oh still my bairn, nurice, still him wi the bell:' 'Oh he winna still, lady, till ye come down yersell.'
13 The firsten step that lady stepped, it was upon a stone; The nexten step that lady stepped, she saw him Lammikin.
14 The nexten step that lady stepped was in her own child's blood, . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
* * * * * * *
15 'Oh will I kill her, nurice, or will I let her be?' 'Kill her, dear Lammikin, she was never gude to me.'
16 'Oh wanted you meat, nurice? or wanted you fee? Or wanted you anything that a lady can gie?'
17 'I wanted no meat, lady, nor wanted I fee, But I wanted mony a thing that a lady could gie.'
* * * * * * *
K
Communicated to Percy by Rev. P. Parsons, of Wye, near Ashford, Kent, April 19, 1775.
1 My lord said to my lady, when he went from home, Take care of Long Longkin, he lies in the lone.
2 My lady said to my lord, when he went abroad, . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
3 'I care not for Longkin, nor none of his kin, For my gate 's fast barrd, and my windows shut in.'
4 My lord was not gone many miles from the place, Untill the false Longkin came straight to the place.
* * * * * * *
5 'Pinch the bairn, nourry, pinch it very sore, Untill the mother shall come down below.'
6 'Still the bairn, nury, still it with the pap:' 'It wont be stilld, madam, with neither this nor that.'
7 'Still the bairn, nury, still it with a bell:' 'It wont be stilld, madam, till you cum down yoursell.'
* * * * * * *
8 'Come down, Lady Betty, the flower of all your kin, And see your mother's heart's blood, so freely running.
9 Down came Lady Betty, her heart full of woe: 'Oh take my life, Longkin, and let my mother go.'
10 'Come down, Lady Nelly, the flower of all your kin, And see your sister's heart's blood, so freely running.'
11 Down came Lady Nelly, her heart full of woe: 'Oh take my life, Longkin, and let my sister go.'
12 'Come down, Lady Jenny, etc.
L
Motherwell's MS., p. 14, from Mr W. Steele, Greenock.
* * * * * * *
1 'O where's the men of this house?' quo the Lamkin: 'They're in the barn threshing,' quo the false nurse within.
2 'O where's the women of the house?' quo the Lamkin: 'They're at the well washing,' quo the false nurse within.
3 'O where's the lord of this house?' quo the Lamkin: 'He's in the wood hunting,' quo the false nurse within.
4 'O where's the lady of the house?' quo the Lamkin: 'She's in her bower dressing,' quo the false nurse within.
* * * * * * *
5 'O please my babie, nourrice, O please him with the keys:' 'He'll no be pleased, madam, let me do what I please.'
6 'O please my babie, nourrice, O please him with the bell:' 'He'll no be pleased, madam, till ye come down yoursell.'
* * * * * * *
7 There was blood in the chaumer, and blood in the ha, And blood in his ladie's room, which he liked warst of a'.
* * * * * * *
M
#a.# Dr Joseph Robertson's Note-Book, Adversaria, p. 60, from tradition. #b.# Kinloch MSS, VI, 31, in Dr Robertson's handwriting.
* * * * * * *
1 But it fell out upon a day Lord Wearie was to gae frae hame, And he has left his lady gay In his castell to stay her lane.
* * * * * * *
2 Lamkin rocked, and fausse nourice sang, And a' the four tors o the cradle red blood sprang.
3 'O still my bairn, nourice, O still him wi the wan: 'He winna still, lady, for a' his father's lan.'
4 'O still my bairn, nourice, O still him wi the keys: 'He winna still, lady, for a' his father's leys.'
5 'O still my bairn, nourice, O still him wi the pap:' 'He winna still, lady, for this nor for that.'
6 'O still my bairn, nourice, O still him wi the bell:' 'He winna still, lady, untill ye cum down yersell.'
7 The firsten step she steppet, she stepped on a stane, And the nexten step she stepped, she keppit him fause Lamkin.
8 The thirden step she steppit, she saw her young son's red blood run on, . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
9 'Ye've killed my bairn, Lamkin, but lat mysell be; Ye'se be as weel payit a mason as was ever payd a fee.'
N
Dr Joseph Robertson's Journal of Excursions, 1828-29, No 2.
1 Lamkin was as gude a mason as ever biggit stone; He biggit Laird Earie's house, and payment he got none.
2 O it fell ance upon a day Laird Earie went from home, And Lamkin came cravin his lady alone.
3 'O far's the laird o this place? O neerice, tell me:' 'He's on the sea sailin, O Lamkin,' said she.
4 'O far's the lady o this place? neerice, tell me:' 'She's up the stair dressin, O Lamkin,' said she.
5 'O far's the bairns o this place? neerice, tell me:' 'The're at the scheel... O Lamkin,' said she. 'O will I get a word o her, neerice?' said he.
* * * * * * *
6 The first step that lady steppet she steppd on a stone; The next step that lady stept she met wi Lamkin.
* * * * * * *
7 Ere the basin was washen, or haf made clean, The ladie's heart-bleed was rinnin in the reem.
O
Kinloch MSS, V, 375, from Mrs Forbes, Milne's Court, Edinburgh, in the handwriting of Robert Chambers.
* * * * * * *
1 'You have two bright diamonds, as bright as the stars, Put one on each finger, they'll show you doun stairs.'
2 The first step this lady took, she dreaded no harm; But the second step this lady took, she was in Lammikin's arms.
3 'Will I kill her, nursie, or will I let her be?' 'Oh yes, kill her, Lammikin, she was never gude to me.'
4 'How can [ye] say so, nursie? how can ye say so? For your head neer did ache but my heart it was sore.
5 'Oh spare my life, nursie, oh spare my life, spare; Ye'll have as mony gowd guineas as there's birds in the air.
6 'Oh spare my life, nursie, till my lord comes back; Ye'll have as mony gowd guineas as the fou of a sack.'
7 'Oh yes kill her and... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
8 'Go scour the silver basin, go scour it fine, For our lady's heart's blude is gentle to tine.
9 'Go scour the silver skewer, oh scour it richt fine, For our lady's heart's blude is gentle to tine.'
P
Herd's MSS, I, 25.
1 A better mason than Lammikin nevir builded wi the stane, Wha builded Lord Weire's castill, but wages nevir gat nane.
* * * * * * *
2 They stecked doors, they stecked yates, close to the cheik and the chin; They stecked them a' but a little wickit, and Lammikin crap in.
3 'Now where's the lady of this castle? nurse, tell to Lammikin:' 'She's sewing up intill her bowir,' the fals nourrice she sung.
4 'What sall we do, what sall we say, to gar her cum there down?' 'We'll nip the baby in the cradle,' the fals nourrice she sung.
5 Lammikin nipped the bonie babe, while loud fals nourice sings; Lammikin nipped the bony babe, while hich the red blude springs.
6 'O gentil nourice, please my babe, O please him wi the keys:' 'He'll no be pleased, gay lady, gin I'd sit on my knees.'
7 'Gude gentil nourice, please my babe, O please him wi a knife:' 'He winna be pleased, mistress myne, gin I wad lay down my lyfe.'
8 'Sweet nourice, loud, loud cries my babe, O please him wi the bell:' 'He winna be pleased, gay lady, till ye cum down yoursell.'
Q
Finlay's Scottish Ballads, II, 45.
1 Lammikin was as gude a mason as ever hewed a stane; He biggit Lord Weire's castle, but payment gat he nane.
* * * * * * *
2 'Where are the lads o this castle?' says the Lammikin: 'They are a' wi Lord Weire, hunting,' the false nourice did sing.
3 'Where are the lasses o this castle?' says the Lammikin: 'They are a' out at the washing,' the false nourice did sing.
4 'But where's the lady o this house?' says the Lammikin: 'She is in her bower sewing,' the false nourice did sing.
5 'Is this the bairn o this house?' says the Lammikin: 'The only bairn Lord Weire aughts,' the false nourice did sing.
* * * * * * *
6 'Still my bairn, nourice, O still him if ye can:' 'He will not still, madam, for a' his father's lan.'
7 'O gentle nourice, still my bairn, O still him wi the keys:' 'He will not still, fair lady, let me do what I please.'
8 'O still my bairn, kind nourice, O still him wi the ring:' 'He will not still, my lady, let me do any thing.'
* * * * * * *
9 The first step she stepped, she stepped on a stane; The next step she stepped, she met the Lammikin.
* * * * * * *
10 'O nourice, wanted ye your meat? or wanted ye your fee? Or wanted ye for any thing a fair lady could gie?'
11 'I wanted for nae meat, ladie, I wanted for nae fee; But I wanted for a hantle a fair lady could gie.'
* * * * * * *
12 'I wish a' may be weel,' he says, 'wi my ladie at hame; For the rings upon my fingers are bursting in twain.'
* * * * * * *
13 'There's bluid in my nursery, there's bluid in my ha, There's bluid in my fair lady's bower, an that's warst of a'.'
14 O sweet, sweet sang the birdie, upon the bough sae hie, But little cared false nourice for that, for it was her gallows-tree.
* * * * * * *
R
Finlay's Scottish Ballads, II, 55, "from a manuscript formerly written by an old lady."
1 When Sir Guy and his train gaed to hunt the wild boar, He gard bar up his castle, behind and before.
2 And he bade his fair lady guard weel her young son, For wicked Balcanqual great mischief had done.
3 So she closed a' the windows, without and within, But forgot the wee wicket, and Balcanqual crap in.
* * * * * * *
4 Syne Balcanqual he rocked, and fause nourice sang, Till through a' the cradle the baby's blood sprang.
5 'O please the bairn, nourice, and please him wi the keys:' 'He'll no be pleased, madam, for a' that he sees.'
6 And Balcanqual ay rocked, while fause nourice sang, And through a' the cradle the baby's blood ran.
7 'Please the bairn, nourice, and please him wi the knife:' 'He'll no be pleased, madam, tho I'd gie my life.'
8 And Balcanqual still rocked, and fause nourice sang, While through a' the cradle the baby's blood ran.
9 'Now please the bairn, nourice, and please him wi the bell:' 'He'll no be pleased, madam, till ye come yoursell.'
10 Down came this fair lady, tripping down the stair, To see her sick bairn, but returned never mair.
11 'Now scour the bason, Jenny, and scour 't very clean, To haad this lady's blood, for she's of noble kin.'
* * * * * * *
S
Motherwell's Note-Book, fol. 13.
1 Lambkin was as brave a builder as eer built a stane, And he built Lord Cassillis house, an for payment he gat nane.
2 My lord said to my lady, when he went abroad, Tak care o fause Lamkin, for he sleeps in the wood.
T
Recited to me by Ellen Healy, January 14, 1881, as sung by Moll Lochnie, a woman of about seventy, at a place near Killarney, before 1867.
1 'Where is the lord? or is he within?' 'He's gone to New England, to dine with the king.'
2 'Where is his horses? or where is his men?' 'They're gone to New England, to wait upon him.'
3 'Where is his lady? or is she within?' 'She's in her bedchamber, all in her lying in.'
4 'Can I get at her, with thousands of lands? Can I get at her, to make her understand?'
5 'You cannot get at her, with thousands of lands; You cannot get at her, to make her understand.'
6 'Lady, come down, and please your child,' . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
7 'Can't you please my child with white bread and breast-wine?' 'O lady, come down, and please him awhile.'
8 'How can I go down, this cold winter's night, Without a fire in the kitchen, or candle to light?'
9 'You've got nine bright lamps, just as bright as the king; Lady, come down, and light one of them.'
10 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . False Lantin he took her so brave in his arms.
11 Saying, Where is your friend, or where is your foe, That will hold the gold basin, your heart's blood to flow?
12 'My nurse is not my friend, my nurse is my foe; She'll hold the gold basin, my heart's blood to flow.
13 'O spare my life for one summer's day, And I'll give you as much money as there's sand in the sea.'
14 'I'll not spare your life for one summer's day, And I wont have as much money as there's sand in the sea.'
15 'O spare me my life until one o'clock, And I'll give you Queen Betsie, the flower of the flock.'
16 'O mama, dear mama, then please him awhile; My dada is coming, he's dressed in great style.'
17 False Lantin he heard the words from the high, Saying, Your mama is dead, and away I will fly.
18 'O dada, dear dada, do not blame me, 'Tis nurse and false Lantin betrayed your ladie.'
19 'I'll bury my mama against the wall, And I'll bury my baba, white all, white all.'
U
#a.# The Ballad Book, by William Allingham, p. xxxiii, part of a version sung by a nurse in the family of a relative in Ireland. #b.# The same, p. 297, No 56, a compounded version.
1 As my lord and my lady were out walking one day, Says my lord to my lady, Beware of Lamkin.
2 'O why should I fear him, or any such man, When my doors are well barrd, and my windows well pinnd?'
* * * * * * *
3 'O keep your gold and silver, it will do you some good; It will buy you a coffin, when you are dead.'
4 There's blood in the kitchen, and blood in the hall, And the young Mayor of England lies dead by the wall.
V
Harris MS., No 28, fol. 27 b, Miss Seymour, Lethnot.
I wald be very sorry to wash a basin clean, To haud my mither's heart's blude, that's comin, an I ken.
* * * * *
#C.#
21^2, 22^2. _Motherwell suggests ~mother~ for ~lady~._
_After_ 22, "a stanza, forgotten by the reciter, which purported that on the night his lady was murdered, the ring on Lord Arran's finger broke."
#F. b.#
1^1. he got on.
1^2, 2^2. who lives.
3^1. The doors are... windows are.
3^2. There is not... where a mouse can.
4^2. For he.
5^1. the windows all pinned.
5^2. But one: Lankin.
7^2. she's in her high chamber.
8^1. young heir.
9^1. we'll prick him, we'll.
10^1. They pricked him, they.
10^2. false nurse... drop in.
11^2. my son Johnson.
12^2, 14^2, 16^2. Come down.
13. _wanting._
14^2. and nurse.
15^2. And there 's no fire burning, nor lamp.
16^2. all by.
17^2. much money.
18. _wanting._
19, 20, 21. Nancy.
20^2. golden basin.
22^2, 23^1. Long _wanting_.
23^2. close by.
#G.#
"A friend of the lady who contributed our copy of this ballad gave a transcript to Miss Landon, who published it in the Drawing Room Scrap Book for 1835, in which, without any authority, she lays the scene of the murder in Cumberland."
_Variations in the Drawing Boom Scrap Book_: 7^1, 8^1, 9^1. Where are.
11, 13 _are given in_ Halliwell's Nursery Rhymes of England, _ed._ 1874, p. 212, No 403, _with only this variation_: 11^2, when ye lord.
#I.#
5^1. marble stane, _indistinct in the MS._
7^1. O... her gang.
#K.#
_After_ 4. He was in league with the nurse, who let him in to one of the low rooms.
_After_ 12. Whilst he and the nurse are plundering the house, the lord comes home, and avenges himself upon these wicked villains.
#L.#
2^1. woman.
#M. a.#
_After_ 1. And a' the servants were frae hame; Lamkin made up wi the fauss norice.
2 _follows_ 8.
#b.#
_Begins with a stanza very near to_ #N# 1:
Lamkin was as gude a mason As ever laid a stane, And he has built Lord Wearie a castle. But payment he got nane.
1^1. once upon: Wearie went frae.
2 _follows_ 6.
2^1. Lamkin he rockit and the.
2^2. Till to the four tors o the cradle the.
3^1. a wand.
8 is _omitted_.
9^2. as eer was paid.
#N.#
6^1. first steppd.
#P.#
_Eleven of the nineteen stanzas of Herd's version are spurious, and many of the others have been tampered with. The metre is disturbed or changed._
_Stanza 4 is omitted in Herd's printed copy._
_After_ 1 _follow_:
'Sen ye winnae gie me my guerdon, lord, Sen ye winnae gie me my hyre, Yon proud castle, sae stately built, I sall gar reck wi the fyre.
'Sen ye winna gie me my wages, lord, Ye sall hae caus to rue:' And syne he brewed a black revenge, And syne he vowed a vow.
'Now byde at hame, my luve, my lyfe, I warde ye byde at hame; Oh gang nae to this day's hunting, To leave me a' my lane.
'Yestrene, yestrene, I dreamt my bower Of red, red blude was fu; Gin ye gang to this black hunting, I sall hae caus to rue.'
'Wha looks to dreams, my winsome dame? Ye hae nae caus to feare:' And syne he's kist her comely cheik, And syne the starting teare.
And syne he's gane to the good greene wode, And she to her painted bowir, And she's gard steck doors, windows, yates, Of castle, ha and tower.
_After 8 follow these five stanzas, found also in Herd's MSS, II, 97_:
And when she saw the red, red blude, A loud scrich scriched she: 'O monster, monster, spare the child Wha never skaithed thee.
'O spare, gif in your bluidy briest Albergs not heart of stane; O spare, and ye sall hae of gould What ye can carry hame.'
'Dame, I want not your gowd,' he sayd, 'Dame, I want not your fee; I hae been wronged by your lord, Ye sall black vengence drie.
'Here are nae serfs to guard your halls, Nae trusty spearsmen here; They sound the horn in good greene wode, And chase the doe and deer.
'Tho merry sounds the gude greene wode, Wi huntsmen hounds and horn, Your lord sall rue eer sets yon sun He hes done me skaith and scorn.'
* * * * * * *
_For_ quha, ze, _etc._, wha, ye _are printed_.
#Q.#
_Of the thirty-five stanzas printed by Finlay, seventeen, or 2, 3, 5-9, 12 (?), 14, 16 (?), 18, 19, 21-25, are derived from Herd's version_, #P#, _all his spurious verses being retained_. _There are some variations, due to imperfect recollection. Of the remaining eighteen, 4, 28, 29, 31, 34 are clearly by a modern pen. There are some twelve genuine stanzas, 1, 10, 11, 13, 15, 17, 20, 26, 27, 30, 32, 33, which are independent of Herd. Two more, Finlay's 12, 16, have been left with these because they vary considerably from Herd, and may possibly be traditional. So may the following be, Finlay's 35 and last; but I think it is not._
They carried him a' airts o wind, And mickle pain had he; At last before Lord Weire's gate They hanged him on the tree.
#R.#
_This second version of Finlay's has been written over. His fourth stanza and his last six owe nothing to tradition. Finlay himself_ "restored" the name of Balwearie from a recited copy "in preference to that of Sr. Guy, or Gray, which the MS. bears, as it makes the ballad _appear_ more decidedly local."
_After 3_:
Then up spak fause nourice: 'haste up to the tower, Somebody knocks at the gate, bauldly and dowr.'
_After 11_:
She's lifted her baby, and kissed cheek and chin, And his ance rosy lips, but nae breath was within.
'Fare weel, my sweet baby, ye've left me alane; But I see my death coming, I needna make mane.'
They've taen this fair lady, and tied her wi bands, And in her sweet heart's blood they've dipped their hands.
For Balcanqual and nourice had vowd her to slae, Because their ill deeds made Balwearie their fae.
Balwearie and his train cam hame weary at een, Nae voice gied them welcome, nae light could be seen.
'Open, dear lady, my castle to me:' Nae voice gied an answer, nae voice was to gie.
#S.#
"Lambkin.... 27 stanzas."
#T.#
_After 5_: "The nurse said this, and the false Lantin stabbed the baby. He bribed the nurse to make the lady come down and please the child. It told how he stabbed the baby, what kind of knife he had, and how he put it through the baby."
#U. b.#
_Allingham's copy is principally composed of 14 stanzas of #A#, 9 of #G#, 5 of #Q#, 1 of #B#. So much of the following stanzas as is in larger type may be regarded as derived, partially or wholly, from the_ "copy taken down from the mouth of an Irish nurse in the family of a relative of the editor."
6 What care I for Lamkin, or any of his gang? I'll keep my doors weel guarded, my windows all pennd in.'
7 When all the doors were guarded, and all the windows shut, There was still one little window, and that one was forgot.
13 'And how are we to bring her down?' says the Lamkin: 'Pinch the babe in the cradle here,' says the fause nourice to him.
18 The first step the lady stepped, she stepped on a stane; The last step the lady stepped, there she met Lamkin.
19 'O mercy, mercy, Lamkin, have mercy upon me! O harm ye not my little son, I pray you let him be.'
23 Lord Weare he sat in England, a drinking o the wine; He felt his heart fu heavy at this very same time.
25 He sailed in his bonny ship upon the saut sea-faem; He leapd up on his horse and swiftly he rade hame.
27 'O whas blude is this,' he says, 'that lies in the bower?' 'It is your lady's heart's blude, where Lamkin he slew her.'
[150] Of boiling to death see Ducange, Caldariis decoquere, and other places cited by Robertson, Materials for the History of Thomas Becket, I, xxxii, note, and 128. This was especially a punishment for coiners, and was sanctioned as the penalty for poisoners by a statute of 22 Henry VIII, c. 29, repealed 1 Edward VI.
[151] More about the locality in Notes and Queries, First Series, II, 270.
[152] "Balcanquel is an ancient Scottish surname, and is sometimes corrupted, for the more agreeable sound, into Beluncan. All reciters agree that Lammikin, or Lambkin, is not the name of the hero, but merely an epithet." Finlay, Scottish Ballads, II. 56.
94
YOUNG WATERS
Percy's Reliques, 1765, II, 172.
Percy took this ballad "from a copy printed not long since at Glasgow, in one sheet 8vo," and he informs us that the world was indebted for its publication to the Lady Jean Hume, sister to the Earl of Hume. Maidment, Scotish Ballads and Songs, Historical and Traditionary, II, 62, gives the title of the first edition as follows: Young Waters, an Ancient Scotish Poem, never before printed. Glasgow: printed and sold by Robert and Andrew Foulis. MDCCLV. Small 4to, pp. 8. He does not say whether he prints from the original edition. The ballad was repeated in Herd's Ancient and Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p. 238; in Ritson's Scotish Song, 1794, II, 181, with the variation of a word or two; and in Pinkerton's Select Scotish Ballads, 1783, I, 72, with arbitrary changes.
Motherwell, Minstrelsy, Introduction, p. lxviii, note 16, says he had never met with any traditionary version of this ballad. There is a copy in the Skene MSS, p. 23, which in all likelihood was learned by the writer from print. Buchan, who may generally be relied upon to produce a longer ballad than anybody else, has 'Young Waters' in thirty-nine stanzas, "the only complete version which he had ever met." Of this copy I will only say that everything which is not in the edition of 1755 (itself a little the worse for editing) is a counterfeit of the lowest description. Nevertheless it is given in an appendix; for much the same reason that thieves are photographed.
It is possible, and Aytoun, I, 93, thinks highly probable, that this ballad may have been founded on some real event in Scottish history; but Aytoun shows a commendable discretion in his conclusion that, "though various conjectures have been hazarded as to its origin, none appear sufficiently plausible to warrant their adoption," an opinion in which Maidment fully concurs. Chambers, who unhesitatingly accepted Buchan's ballad, did not, in 1829, entertain the least doubt that Young Waters was one of the Scottish nobles executed by James I after his return from his captivity in England, and very probably Walter Stuart, second son of the Duke of Albany: The Scottish Ballads, p. 34. Thirty years later he had no more doubt that the ballad was composed by Lady Wardlaw.
A Scandinavian ballad, historical to the extent that one version has historical names, exhibits the principal incidents of the short story of 'Young Waters.' #Danish.# 'Folke Lovmandsøn og Dronning Helvig,' texts of the 16th century, Grundtvig, III, 691, No 178, #A-D#.[153] #Swedish.# #A#, 'Falkvard Lagermanson,' tradition of this century, Arwidsson, II, 62, No 80. #B#, manuscript of the last century, Grundtvig, III, 697. The king and queen, Danish #B#, are Magnus I of Sweden and his wife Helvig (died 1290, 1325). Folke Lovmandsøn is in high favor with dames and maids, but especially with the queen, to whose service he is devoted. A little wee page plays the part of the wily lord of 'Young Waters' in exciting the king's jealousy. The innocent young knight is rolled down hill in a tun set with knives.
Translated by Grundtvig, No 7, p. 48; Herder, II, 68; Döring, p. 383; Allingham's copy by Knortz, Lieder und Romanzen Alt-Englands, No 8, p. 33; Buchan's by Gerhard, p. 8.
1 About Yule, when the wind blew cule, And the round tables began, A there is cum to our king's court Mony a well-favourd man.
2 The queen luikt owre the castle-wa, Beheld baith dale and down, And then she saw Young Waters Cum riding to the town.
3 His footmen they did rin before, His horsemen rade behind; Ane mantel of the burning gowd Did keip him frae the wind.
4 Gowden-graithd his horse before, And siller-shod behind; The horse Young Waters rade upon Was fleeter than the wind.
5 Out then spake a wylie lord, Unto the queen said he, 'O tell me wha's the fairest face Rides in the company?'
6 'I've sene lord, and I've sene laird, And knights of high degree, But a fairer face than Young Waters Mine eyne did never see.'
7 Out then spack the jealous king, And an angry man was he: 'O if he had been twice as fair, You micht have excepted me.'
8 'You 're neither laird nor lord,' she says, 'Bot the king that wears the crown; There is not a knight in fair Scotland But to thee maun bow down.'
9 For a' that she could do or say, Appeasd he wad nae bee, Bot for the words which she had said, Young Waters he maun dee.
10 They hae taen Young Waters, And put fetters to his feet; They hae taen Young Waters, And thrown him in dungeon deep.
11 'Aft I have ridden thro Stirling town In the wind bot and the weit; Bot I neir rade thro Stirling town Wi fetters at my feet.
12 'Aft have I ridden thro Stirling town In the wind bot and the rain; Bot I neir rade thro Stirling town Neir to return again.'
13 They hae taen to the heiding-hill His young son in his craddle, And they hae taen to the heiding-hill His horse bot and his saddle.
14 They hae taen to the heiding-hill His lady fair to see, And for the words the queen had spoke Young Waters he did dee.
* * * * *
Quhen, zoung, _etc._, _are printed_ when, young.
3^3. And _corrected to_ Ane _in the second edition of the Reliques_.
5^1. But. _Ritson, Maidment_, Out.
10^{1, 3}. Waters and: and _is carried on to the following line_.
APPENDIX.
Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 15.
1 It fell about the gude Yule time, When caps and stoups gaed roun, Down it came him Young Waters, To welcome James, our king.
2 The great, the great, rade a' together, The sma came a' behin, But wi Young Waters, that brave knight, There came a gay gatherin.
3 The horse Young Waters rade upon, It cost him hunders nine; For he was siller-shod before, And gowd-graith had behin.
4 At ilka tippit o his horse mane There hang a siller bell; The wind was loud, the steed was proud, And they gae a sindry knell.
5 The king he lay ower's castle-wa, Beheld baith dale and down, And he beheld him Young Waters, Come riding to the town.
6 He turnd him right and round about, And to the queen said he, Who is the bravest man, my dame, That ever your een did see?
7 'I've seen lairds, and I've seen lords, And knights o high degree, But a braver man than Young Waters My een did never see.'
8 He turnd him right and roun about, And ane angry man was he: 'O wae to you, my dame, the queen, Ye might hae excepted me!'
9 'Ye are nae laird, ye are nae lord, Ye are the king that wears the crown; There's nae a lord in fair Scotland But unto you maun a' bow down.'
10 'O lady, for your love-choicing, Ye shall win to your will; The morn, or I eat or drink, Young Waters I'll gar kill.'
11 'And nevertheless,' the king coud say, 'Ye might hae excepted me; Yea for yea,' the king coud say, 'Young Waters he shall die.
12 'Likewise for your ill-wyled words, Ye sall hae cause to mourn; Gin ye hadna been sae big wi child, Ye on a hill sud burn.'
13 Young Waters came before the king, Fell low down on his knee: 'Win up, win up, Young Waters, What 's this I hear o thee?'
14 'What ails the king at me,' he said, 'What ails the king at me?' 'It is tauld me the day, sir knight, Ye 've done me treasonie.'
15 'Liars will lie on fell gude men, Sae will they do on me; I wudna wish to be the man That liars on wudna lie.'
16 'Nevertheless,' the king coud say, 'In prison strang gang ye; O yea for yea,' the king coud say, 'Young Waters, ye shall die.'
17 Syne they hae taen him Young Waters, Laid him in prison strang, And left him there wi fetters boun, Making a heavy mane.
18 'Aft hae I ridden thro Striveling town Thro heavy wind and weet; But neer rade I thro Striveling town Wi fetters on my feet.
19 'Aft hae I ridden thro Striveling town Thro heavy wind and rain; But neer rade I thro Striveling town But thought to ridden't again.'
20 They brought him to the heading-hill, His horse bot and his saddle; And they brought to the heading-hill His young son in his cradle.
21 And they brought to the heading-hill His hounds intill a leish; And they brought till the heading-hill His gos-hawk in a jess.
22 King James he then rade up the hill, And mony a man him wi, And called on his trusty page To come right speedilie.
23 'Ye'll do ye to the Earl o Mar, For he sits on yon hill; Bid him to loose the brand frae his bodie, Young Waters for to kill.'
24 'O gude forbid,' the Earl he said, 'The like sud eer fa me, My bodie eer sud wear the brand That gars Young Waters die.'
25 Then he has loosd his trusty brand And casten't in the sea; Says, Never lat them get a brand Till it come back to me.
26 The scaffold it prepared was, And he did mount it hie, And a' spectators that were there, The saut tears blint their ee.
27 'O had your tongues, my brethren dear, And mourn nae mair for me; Ye're seeking grace frae a graceless face, For there is nane to gie.
28 'Ye'll tak a bit o canvas claith And pit it ower my ee; And Jack, my man, ye'll be at hand The hour that I sud die.
29 'Syne aff ye'll tak my bluidy sark, Gie it fair Margaret Grahame; For she may curse the dowie dell That brought King James him hame.
30 'Ye'll bid her mak her bed narrow, And mak it naeways wide; For a brawer man than Young Waters Will neer streek by her side.
31 'Bid her do weel to my young son, And gie him nurses three; For gin he live to be a man, King James will gar him die.'
32 He calld upon the headsman, then, A purse o gowd him gae; Says, Do your office, headsman, boy, And mak nae mair delay.
33 O head me soon, O head me clean, And pit me out o pine; For it is by the king's command; Gang head me till his min.
34 Tho by him I'm condemnd to die, I'm lieve to his ain kin; And for the truth, I'll plainly tell, I am his sister's son.
35 'Gin ye're my sister's son,' he said, 'It is unkent to me;' 'O mindna ye on your sister Bess, That lives in the French countrie?'
36 'Gin Bess then be your mither dear, As I trust well she be, Gae hame, gae hame, Young Waters, Ye'se neer be slain by me.'
37 But he lay by his napkin fine, Was saft as ony silk, And on the block he laid his neck, Was whiter than the milk.
38 Says, Strike the blow, ye headsman, boy, And that right speedilie; It's never be said, Here gaes a knight Was ance condemnd to die.
39 The head was taen frae Young Waters, And mony tears for him shed; But mair did mourn for fair Margaret, As raving she lyes mad.
[153] #D#, which is made up from the three others, is translated by Prior, II, 160, No 65.
95
THE MAID FREED FROM THE GALLOWS
#A.# Communicated to Bishop Percy, 1770.
#B.# 'The Broom o the Cathery Knowes,' Motherwell's MS., p. 290.
#C.# Notes and Queries, Sixth Series, VII, 275, 1883.
#D.# Skene MSS, p. 61, stanzas 19-24: 1802-03.
#E.# 'Lady Maisry,' Buchan's MSS, II, 186; 'Warenston and the Duke of York's Daughter,' Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 190, stanzas 16-22.
#F.# Notes and Queries, Sixth Series, VI, 476, 1882.
#G. a.# 'The Golden Key,' Notes and Queries, Sixth Series, VI, 415. #b.# The same, p. 269.
#H.# 'The Golden Ball.' #a.# Baring-Gould's Appendix to Henderson's Notes on the Folk Lore of the Northern Counties of England and the Borders, 1866, p. 333. #b.# Notes and Queries, Sixth Series, X, 354, 1884.
#D#, #E# form the conclusion of a ballad which belongs to the series of 'Mary Hamilton,' or 'The Queen's Mary,' and give an entirely wrong turn to that distressful tragedy.
#F# had become a children's game, the last stage of many old ballads: see the notes. In #G# and #H# the verses are set in a popular tale, and a characteristic explanation is furnished of the danger which the heroine has incurred: she has lost a golden key, or a golden ball, which had been entrusted to her. See, again, the notes.
All the English versions are defective and distorted, as comparison will show. In many others, both from northern and southern Europe, a young woman has fallen into the hands of corsairs; father, mother, brother, sister, refuse to pay ransom, but her lover, in one case husband, stickles at no price which may be necessary to retrieve her.
We will begin with the best ballad of the cycle, the #Sicilian# 'Scibilia Nobili,' communicated to Nuove Effemeridi Siciliane, Nuova Serie, I, 528, 1874, by Salvatore Struppa, as sung by a peasant woman in the neighborhood of Marsala, 151 verses.[154] Tunisian corsairs, learning of the marriage of the king's daughter, fit out a strong force, and when they are near port change caps, to pass for Christians. They knock at Scibilia's door, and, on her refusing to open, her husband being a-hunting, burst the door in, and carry her on board ship. Her husband goes to the shore weeping, and offers her captors her weight in gold; they will not give her up for a shipful. He begs to be allowed a word with her: why has she let herself be carried off, and who will nurse her boy? She refuses to eat, drink, or sleep. The sailors fall asleep, and Scibilia drops into the sea. They take silk ladders to recover her; she weeps always. (It would be superfluous to do more than point to the fact that the story is not well compacted, or altogether rational, as we have it.) The lady, turning to a sailor, says, Can you tell me how the wind is? If north or south, I will go to my father. No opposition is made by the pirates, who had but just now refused a shipful of gold for her. "My dear father, will you ransom me?" "For how much, my dear daughter?" "Three lions, three falcons, and four pillars of gold." "I cannot lose so much money: how much better lose you!" She is urged by her captors to eat and drink, but will not eat, drink, or sleep, for her boy is starving. She again makes for the coast, weeping ever, and the foregoing scene, from the inquiry as to the wind, is repeated with mother, brother, sister. All say it is better to lose her than so much money. She finally tries her husband, who answers, Better lose all this gold; it is enough if you are not lost. And after three days the father died. "And let him die; I will dress all in red." And after three days the mother died. "And let her die; I will dress all in yellow." And after three days the brother died. "And let him die; I will dress all in green." And after three days the sister died. "And let her die; I will dress all in white. And if my dear husband dies, I will dress in black."
#Spanish.# #A. a#, 'La Donzella,' Die Balearen in Wort und Bild geschildert, II, 263 (privately printed by the Archduke Ludwig Salvator, Leipzig, 1871, a book which I have not been able to obtain), Liebrecht, Zur Volkskunde, p. 231; #b#, Briz, Cansons de la Terra, IV, 15, from a Majorcan _revista_. #B.# 'Lo Rescat,' Briz, IV, 13. #C.# 'La Cautiva,' Milá, Romancerillo, p. 257, No 261. In #A# a maid, who is embroidering a handkerchief by the seashore, lacking silk, hails a vessel, and asks if they have any. She is invited to come aboard and see if they have what she requires. She falls asleep, and the sailors put off. This beginning is like that of another very common ballad. The maid is wakened by the singing of the sailors, and asks them to put into the port where her father is. What follows corresponds to the English ballad. "Father, will you ransom me? The Moors offer me for sale." "Dear daughter, how much do they ask?" "I am yours for a hundred crowns." "Daughter, I will not pay a penny for you." The scene is repeated with mother, brother, and sister, all of whom make the same answer as the father, and then with the lover; but his reply is, I would not give you up for all the world.
The first five stanzas of #A# are wanting in #B#, which begins, accordingly, at the point where the maid asks to have the ship put about. The sister is omitted in #B#, as also in #A b#. #C# is shortened still further, beginning with the appeal to the father, and omitting both sister and brother.
#Färöe.# 'Frísa Vísa,' communicated by Hammershaimb, with other ballads, to the Antiquarisk Tidsskrift, 1849-51, p. 95. Frisian pirates are carrying away a maid. She weeps and beats her hands, and cries, Wait, my father will ransom me; he will ransom me with his castles; he will not let me perish in Friesland. The father answers, I have only two castles; neither of them can I give up for thee; indeed thou mayst perish in Friesland. The Frisians are starting off again. The maid begs them to stop; her mother will redeem her with her kirtles. But the mother says, I have but two kirtles, and neither of them can I give up for thee; indeed thou mayst perish in Friesland. Once more the Frisians are about to put off. The maid says her lover will redeem her with his ships. The lover loyally responds, I have only two ships; both will I gladly part with for thee; thou shalt not perish in Friesland. It appears from a note of Hammershaimb that the ballad might be extended indefinitely by the maid's calling upon brother, sister, and friends to redeem her with their respective valuables.[155]
#Icelandic.# A ballad briefly mentioned at p. 20 f of the volume of the Antiquarisk Tidsskrift, before cited. The Frisians call out, Bear the Danish maid to the ships! 'Bide, Frisians, bide; my kinsfolk will redeem me.' Upon the sixth appeal, to her lover, the maid is ransomed.
#Swedish.# 'Den Bortsålda,' the same ballad as the Färöe and the Icelandic, with an absurd introductory stanza, in which the maid is said to have been sold into the heathen land by her parents for a bit of bread; whence the title. #A. a#, Afzelius, No 15, I, 73;[156] #b#, Hofberg, Nerikes Gamla Minnen, p. 256, No 5. #B.# Afzelius, I, 134. #C.# Rancken, Några prof af folksång, p. 6, No 2, with collation of three other copies. #D.# Eva Wigström, Folkdiktning, I, 62, No 29. #E.# Öberg, in Aminson, Bidrag, I, 23. #F.# Axelson, Vesterdalarne, p. 174, No 2, three stanzas, the rest said to be "entirely like" the Afzelius copies, which differ considerably. A maid is in the hands of sea-rovers, and they are on the point of rowing off with her. She wrings her hands, and calls to them to wait a while. She sees her father coming, who will redeem her with his oxen, and so she shall escape going to the heathen land to pine away. The father says he has but oxen two: the one he shall be using, the other he shall keep--låta stå; and she will not scape going to the heathen land. The sailors lower their oars. The maid wrings her hands, and calls to them again to wait; she sees her mother coming, who will redeem her with her gold caskets. The mother says she has of gold caskets but two: the one she shall be using, the other shall let stay. The maid sees her sister, who will redeem her with her gold crowns. The sister has but two gold crowns, one of which she shall be using, the other will let be. The maid sees her brother, who will redeem her with his foals. The brother has but two foals: the one he shall be using, the other he will let be, and she will not scape from going to the heathen land to pine away. Then the maid sees her true-love coming, and calls to him to redeem her with his gold rings. "Of gold rings," he says, "I have no more than twelve: with six I shall redeem thee, six thou shalt have thyself; so thou scapest going to the heathen land to pine away."
This is the story in #A#, and the chief variations of the other copies are in the things which the maid proposes to her kindred and her lover to redeem her with, and the number of these which they profess to have. The spuriousness of the introductory stanza, in which the girl is said to have been sold into the heathen land for dire need, is evident. The family have two oxen, two gold caskets, two gold crowns, two foals; or even houses, gold caskets, gold chains, mills, more than five, #B#, and no doubt everything handsome about them. In #D# the father is even a king. #E#, #F# lack this beginning. #C# concludes with a permissible imprecation on the part of the lover:
'Cursed be thy father, cursed be thy mother, Cursed be thy sister, and even so thy brother!'
In #Danish# the ballad occurs in manuscripts, and has been printed as a broadside: Bergström's Afzelius, II, 63.
#German.# #A.# Gräter's Idunna und Hermode, 1814, p. 76, communicated by Abrahamson, one of the editors of the Danske Viser, as learned by him from a maid-servant of his mother, in Sleswig, not long after 1750. #B.# 'Liebesprobe,' Kretzschmer-Zuccalmaglio, II, 54, No 22, "from North Germany," apparently a little retouched. #C.# 'Des Liebsten Liebe die grösste Liebe,' Hoffmann und Richter, p. 43, No 23, Silesia. #D.# 'Loskauf,' Erk's Liederhort, p. 136, No 40, Saxony. #E.# 'Das losgekaufte Mädchen,' Erk und Irmer, II, 52, No 53, Saxony. #F.# 'Loskauf,' Erk's Liederhort, p. 138, No 40^a, Brandenburg. #G.# 'O Schipmann,' Reiffenberg, p. 138, Westphalia. #H.# 'O Schipmann,' Reiffenberg, p. 10, No 5, Westphalia. #I.# 'Loskauf,' Uhland, p. 267, No 117, Westphalia. #J.# Köhler, in Anzeiger für deutsches Alterthum, VI, 268, from Friedrich Kind in "Abend-Zeitung, 1819, No 164, Kind's Erzählungen, 1822, p. 77," Auserwählte Unterhaltungen, Wien, 1827, I, 20. 'Die Losgekaufte,' in Kretzschmer, I, 181, is rewritten; 'Loskauf,' in Simrock, No 39, p. 90, is made up from a variety of copies. Several of the versions come very near to one another, especially #C-F#, nor is there any noteworthy difference in the story of the whole series, save a single point in the last three. A maid whom seamen are carrying off begs them to stop or put back to land; she has a father who will not abandon her. She begs her father to part with coat, house, hat, watch, or bull, to save her from drowning; the father refuses. Then, as before, she successively and vainly entreats her mother to redeem her with gold chain, ring, apron, gown, or silver trinkets; her brother with silver buckles, hat, horse, sword, or coat; her sister with apron, dress, shoes, green wreath, or pearl wreath. Two of the four relatives are wanting in #H#, #I#, #J#. All of her blood refusing to ransom the maid, she calls upon her lover to sacrifice sword, horse, ring, golden hill, to save her, or, in #H#, #I#, #J#, to sell himself to the oar, and the lover is ready in every case. The redemption is not from slavery in a foreign land, but from drowning.
#Esthonian.# The ballad is known all over Esthonia, and a copy composed of two closely resembling versions is given by Neus, Ehstnische Volkslieder, p. 109, 'Die Ausgelöste.' A girl, taken captive in war, asks that the boats may put in, in order that she may find some one to buy her off. She appeals first to her mother, who might redeem her with the best of three aprons which she possesses, one of which is of gold web, another of silver, another of brass. A daughter, answers the mother, is a thing of to-day and to-morrow; my aprons are for life. Her father is next asked to ransom her with the best of three bulls which he owns, which have a horn of gold, silver, and brass respectively. His daughter is his for two days, his bulls for life. The brother is entreated to save her by the sacrifice of the best of his three horses, which have severally manes of gold, silver, and brass. His sister is his for two days, his horse for life. The sister is asked to part with the best of her three wreaths, which are of gold, silver, brass, for an only sister's sake. A sister is hers for a month or two, her wreath for life. Finally the maid turns to her true-love, who has three hats, one of brass, one of silver, one of gold, and entreats him to devote the best to her redemption. How long lasts a hat? he exclaims. A couple of days; but my betrothed for life! Another copy of the same ballad is given by Neus in Dorpater Jahrbücher, V, 228.
The ballad is equally popular in Finland: 'Lunastettava neiti,' Kanteletar, 1864, p. 283, No 26, p. 285, No 27, ed. 1840, III, 131, 137, 273 f; Rancken, Några prof, p. 9.
In various Slavic ballads the man and maid change parts, and the man is ransomed by the generosity of his mistress when his kinsfolk have failed him.
Two #Wendish# ballads, Haupt and Schmaler, #A#, No 74, #B#, No 75, I, 107 ff, begin, like the popular German ballad 'Der Schäfer und der Edelmann,' with a shepherd's being thrown into prison by a nobleman for wearing a costume beyond his rank, and proud words besides. He sees his father coming, #A#, and asks him to pawn half a hundred sheep and get him out. The father prefers his half hundred sheep. He sees his mother coming, and asks her to pawn two cows and release him. She prefers her cows. He sees his brother coming, and asks him to pawn his horse. His brother prefers his horse. He sees his sister coming, and asks her to pawn a fine gown, but the gown again is much dearer in his sister's eyes. He sees his love coming, and asks her to pawn her coral necklace for his ransom, which she does, and he is released. In #B# he writes to father, mother, and sister to ransom him; they all tell him that if he were good for anything he would not be in prison. His love flies to him and ransoms him.[157]
#Russian.# Čelakowský, II, 106,[158] Sakharof, IV, 171, No 13. A young man in prison writes to father and mother for ransom; the whole family will have nothing to do with malefactors and robbers. His love, when written to, calls to her women to get her gold together, all that shall be needed to free him.
#Little-Russian.# Golovatsky, I, 48, No 8. An imprisoned youth writes to his father, Wilt thou ransom me, or shall I perish? How much must he give? Forty saddled horses. Better he should perish. He writes to his mother; she must give forty oxen with their yokes. She declines. He writes to his love; she must furnish forty geese with their goslings. I will spin, she says, spin lustily, buy geese, and ransom thee. No 7, I, 46, is to the same effect, but lacks the close.
#Slovenian.# 'Rodbina,' 'Kinship,' Vraz, Narodne Pěsni ilirske, p. 141.[159] A hero in prison asks his father to release him; the three horses he must give are too much. He asks his mother; the three castles she must give are too much. He asks his brother; the three rifles he must give are too much. He asks his sister; the three fair tresses she must sacrifice are too much. He asks his love; she must give her white hand. Not too much is my white hand, she says; easy to give for thee hand and life besides.
A Little-Russian ballad in Waclaw z Oleska, p. 226, and a Polish in Waldbrühl's Balalaika, p. 504, have the same theme, Love stronger than Blood (woman's love here), but do not belong with the pieces already cited as to form.
A
Communicated to Percy, April 7, 1770, by the Rev. P. Parsons, of Wey, from oral tradition.
* * * * * * *
1 'O good Lord Judge, and sweet Lord Judge, Peace for a little while! Methinks I see my own father, Come riding by the stile.
2 'Oh father, oh father, a little of your gold, And likewise of your fee! To keep my body from yonder grave, And my neck from the gallows-tree.'
3 'None of my gold now you shall have, Nor likewise of my fee; For I am come to see you hangd, And hanged you shall be.'
4 'Oh good Lord Judge, and sweet Lord Judge, Peace for a little while! Methinks I see my own mother, Come riding by the stile.
5 'Oh mother, oh mother, a little of your gold, And likewise of your fee, To keep my body from yonder grave, And my neck from the gallows-tree!'
6 'None of my gold now shall you have, Nor likewise of my fee; For I am come to see you hangd, And hanged you shall be.'
7 'Oh good Lord Judge, and sweet Lord Judge, Peace for a little while! Methinks I see my own brother, Come riding by the stile.
8 'Oh brother, oh brother, a little of your gold, And likewise of your fee, To keep my body from yonder grave, And my neck from the gallows-tree!'
9 'None of my gold now shall you have, Nor likewise of my fee; For I am come to see you hangd, And hanged you shall be.'
10 'Oh good Lord Judge, and sweet Lord Judge, Peace for a little while! Methinks I see my own sister, Come riding by the stile.
11 'Oh sister, oh sister, a little of your gold, And likewise of your fee, To keep my body from yonder grave, And my neck from the gallows-tree!'
12 'None of my gold now shall you have, Nor likewise of my fee; For I am come to see you hangd, And hanged you shall be.'
13 'Oh good Lord Judge, and sweet Lord Judge, Peace for a little while! Methinks I see my own true-love, Come riding by the stile.
14 'Oh true-love, oh true-love, a little of your gold, And likewise of your fee, To save my body from yonder grave, And my neck from the gallows-tree.'
15 'Some of my gold now you shall have, And likewise of my fee, For I am come to see you saved, And saved you shall be.'
B
Motherwell MS., p. 290, from the recitation of Widow McCormick; learned in Dumbarton.
* * * * * * *
1 'It's hold your hand, dear judge,' she says, 'O hold your hand for a while! For yonder I see my father a coming, Riding many's the mile.
2 'Have you any gold, father?' she says, 'Or have you any fee? Or did you come to see your own daughter a hanging, Like a dog, upon a tree?'
3 'I have no gold, daughter,' he says, 'Neither have I any fee; But I am come to see my ain daughter hanged, And hanged she shall be.'
4 'Hey the broom, and the bonny, bonny broom, The broom o the Cauthery Knowes! I wish I were at hame again, Milking my ain daddie's ewes.
5 'Hold your hand, dear judge,' she says, 'O hold your hand for a while! For yonder I see my own mother coming, Riding full many a mile.
6 'Have you any gold, mother?' she says, 'Or have you any fee? Or did you come to see your own daughter hanged, Like a dog, upon a tree?'
7 'I have no gold, daughter,' she says, 'Neither have I any fee; But I am come to see my own daughter hanged, And hanged she shall be.'
8 'Hey the broom, the bonnie, bonnie broom, The broom o the Cauthery Knowes! I wish I were at hame again, Milking my ain daddie's ewes.
9 'Hold your hand, dear judge,' she says, 'O hold your hand for a while! For yonder I see my ae brother a coming, Riding many's the mile.
10 'Have you any gold, brother?' she says, 'Or have you any fee? Or did you come to see your ain sister a hanging, Like a dog, upon a tree?'
11 'I have no gold, sister,' he says, 'Nor have I any fee; But I am come to see my ain sister hanged, And hanged she shall be.'
12 'Hey the broom, the bonnie, bonnie broom, The broom o the Cathery Knowes! I wish I were at hame again, Milking my ain daddie's ewes.
13 'Hold your hand, dear judge,' she says, 'O hold your hand for a while! For yonder I see my own true-love coming, Riding full many a mile.
14 'Have you any gold, my true-love?' she says, 'Or have you any fee? Or have you come to see your own love hanged, Like a dog, upon a tree?'
* * * * * * *
C
Notes and Queries, Sixth Series, VII, 275, 1883: communicated by the Rev. E. Venables, Precentor of Lincoln, as sung by a nurse-maid from Woburn, near High Wycombe, Buckinghamshire, "between fifty and sixty years ago."
1 'Hold up thy hand, most righteous judge, Hold up thy hand a while! For here I see my own dear father, Come tumbling over the stile.
2 'Oh hast thou brought me silver or gold, Or jewels, to set me free? Or hast thou come to see me hung? For hanged I shall be.
3 'If I could get out of this prickly bush, That prickles my heart so sore, If I could get out of this prickly bush, I'd never get in it no more.'
4 'Oh I have brought nor silver nor gold, Nor jewels, to set thee free; But I have come to see thee hung, For hanged thou shall be.
* * * * * * *
5 'It's I have brought thee silver and gold, And jewels, to set thee free; I have not come to see thee hung, For hanged thou shall not be.'
6 'Now I have got out of this prickly bush, That prickled my heart so sore, And I have got out of this prickly bush, I'll never get in it no more.'
D
Skene MSS, p. 61, stanzas 19-24: taken down in the north or northeast of Scotland, 1802-03.
1 . . . . . . . 'O had your hand a while! For yonder comes my father, I'm sure he'l borrow me.
2 'O some of your goud, father, An of your well won fee! To save me [frae the high hill], [And] frae the gallow-tree.'
3 'Ye 's get nane of my goud, Nor of my well won fee, For I would gie five hundred poun To see ye hangit hie.'
4 . . . . . . . 'O had yer hand a while! Yonder is my love Willie, Sure he will borrow me.
5 'O some o your goud, my love Willie, An some o yer well won fee! To save me frae the high hill, And frae the gallow-tree.'
6 'Ye's get a' my goud, And a' my well won fee, To save ye fra the headin-hill, And frae the gallow-tree.'
E
Buchan's MSS, II, 186, stanzas 16-22.
1 'Hold your hands, ye justice o peace, Hold them a little while! For yonder comes my father and mother, That 's travelld mony a mile.
2 'Gie me some o your gowd, parents, Some o your white monie, To save me frae the head o yon hill, Yon greenwood gallows-tree.'
3 'Ye 'll get nane o our gowd, daughter, Nor nane o our white monie, For we have travelld mony a mile, This day to see you die.'
4 'Hold your hands, ye justice o peace, Hold them a little while! For yonder comes him Warenston, The father of my chile.
5 'Give me some o your gowd, Warenston, Some o your white monie, To save me frae the head o yon hill, Yon greenwood gallows-tree.'
6 'I bade you nurse my bairn well, And nurse it carefullie, And gowd shoud been your hire, Maisry, And my body your fee.'
7 He's taen out a purse o gowd, Another o white monie, And he's tauld down ten thousand crowns, Says, True-love, gang wi me.
F
Notes and Queries, Sixth Series, VI, 476, 1882: "sung in Forfarshire, forty years ago."
1 'Stop, stop, ... . . . . . . . I think I see my father coming, . . . . . . .
2 'O hae ye brocht my silken cloak, Or my golden key? Or hae ye come to see me hanged, On this green gallows-tree?'
3 'I've neither brocht your silken cloak, Nor your golden key, But I have come to see you hanged, On this green gallows-tree.'
* * * * * * *
4 'I've neither brocht your silken cloak, Nor your golden key, But I am come to set you free From this green gallows-tree.'
G
#a.# Notes and Queries, Sixth Series, VI, 415, 1882. #b.# The same, p. 269.
1 'Hangman, hangman, stop a minute, . . . . . . . I think I see my father coming, . . . . . . .
2 'Father, father, have you found the key, And have you come to set me free? Or have you come to see me hanged, Upon this gallows-tree?'
* * * * * * *
3 'I have not come to see you hanged, Upon the gallows-tree, For I have found the golden key,' . . . . . . .
H
#a.# Baring-Gould's Appendix to Henderson's Notes on the Folk Lore of the Northern Counties of England and the Borders, 1866, p. 333, Yorkshire. #b.# Notes and Queries, Sixth Series, X, 354, 1884.
1 'Stop, stop! ... . . . . . . . I think I see my mother coming, . . . . . . .
2 'Oh mother, hast brought my golden ball, And come to set me free? . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
3 'I've neither brought thy golden ball, Nor come to set thee free, But I have come to see thee hung, Upon this gallows-tree.'
4 'Stop, stop! ... . . . . . . . I think I see my father coming, . . . . . . .
5 'O father, hast brought my golden ball, And come to set me free? . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
6 'I've neither brought thy golden ball, Nor come to set thee free, But I have come to see thee hung, Upon this gallows-tree.'
7 'Stop, stop! ... . . . . . . . I see my sweet-heart coming, . . . . . . .
8 'Sweet-heart, hast brought my golden ball, And come to set me free? . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
9 'Aye, I have brought thy golden ball, And come to set thee free; I have not come to see thee hung, Upon this gallows-tree.'
* * * * *
#B.#
_The title, '~The Broom o the Cathery Knowes~,' is not prefixed to the ballad, but is given in the Index._
5^4. _Changed by Motherwell to ~many's the mile~, as in 1._
12. Hey the broom, &c.
#C.#
_This version, which the Rev. E. Venables has also communicated to me in manuscript, was tagged on to a fragment of '~Hugh of Lincoln~.'_
_After 4_: "Mother, brother, sister, uncle, aunt, etc., succeed. At last comes the own true love, who replies."
#D.#
2^{3, 4}. _Restored from stanza 5._
#F.#
"It was sung in Forfarshire forty years ago by girls during the progress of some game, which I do not now distinctly recollect. A lady, at the point of being executed, cries Stop, stop! I think I see my father coming. Then, addressing her father, she asks," _as in stanza 2_; "to which the father replies," _as in stanza 3_. "Mother, brother, sister, are each addressed in turn, and give the same answer. Last of all the fair sinner sees her lover coming, and on putting the question to him is answered thus," _as in stanza 4_; "whereupon the game ends." _W. F. (2), Saline Manse, Fife._
#G. a.#
_Before stanza 1_: "I think the title of this ballad is 'The Golden Key.' The substance of it is that a woman has lost a gold key, and is about to be hung, when she exclaims, _as in stanza 1_. Then follows" _stanza 2_. _After 2_: "Father, mother, brother, sister, all in turn come up, and have not found the lost key. At last the sweet-heart appears, who exclaims triumphantly," _as in stanza 3_. "I write this from memory. I never saw it in print." _H. Fishwick._
#b.#
"A lady writes to me, My mother used to hear, in Lancashire and Cheshire, a ballad of which she only recollects three lines:
And I'm not come to set you free, But I am come to see you hanged, All under the gallows-tree.
The last line was repeated, I believe, in every verse." _William Andrews._
#H. a.#
_The verses form part of a Yorkshire story called ~The Golden Ball~. A man gives a golden ball to each of two lasses, and if either loses the ball she is to be hanged. The younger, while playing with her ball, tosses it over a park-paling; the ball runs away over the grass into a house, and is seen no more._
"Now t' lass was taken to York to be hanged. She was brought out on t' scaffold, and t' hangman said, Now, lass, tha must hang by t' neck till tha be'st dead. But she cried out, Stop, stop," _etc., stanzas 1-3_.
"Then the hangman said. Now, lass, say thy prayers, for tha must dee." _Stanzas 4-6 follow. The maid thinks she sees her brother coming, her sister, uncle, aunt, cousin. The hangman then says_, "I wee-nt stop no longer, tha's making gam of me. Tha must be hung at once. But now she saw her sweetheart coming through the crowd, and he had over head i t' air her own golden ball. So she said," _as in stanzas 7-9_.
#b.#
_Miss Kate Thompson, of Newcastle-on-Tyne, had when a child frequently been told the story of ~The Golden Ball~ by a woman who was a native of the Borderland. A rich lady possessed a golden ball, which she held in high esteem. A poor girl, her servant, had to clean this ball every day, and it was death to lose it. One day when she was cleaning the ball near a stream it disappeared. The girl was condemned to die, and had mounted the scaffold. The story was all in prose up to the execution, when the narrator broke into rhyme:_
'Stop the rope! stop the rope! For here I see my mother coming.
'Oh mother, have you brought the golden ball, And come to set me free? Or are you only here to see me die, Upon the high, high gallows-tree?'
_The mother answers that she has only come to see her die. Other relatives follow, and last of all comes the lover, who produces the ball, and the execution is stopped. Miss Thompson adds that two Northumbrian servants in her house remember the story so._
[154] Liebrecht was the first to call attention to this ballad-cycle, Zur Volkskunde, p. 222, repeating, with enlargement, an article in Zeitschrift für deutsche Philologie, IX, 53. He gives the Sicilian text, and a Balearic and a Färöe, presently to be noticed, with translations, and points out other parallels. Reifferscheid made additions in his Westfälische Volkslieder, p. 10, p. 138 ff. I have not at hand the Effemeridi for 1874.
[155] "_Legen_ kan nu fortsættes videre" might imply that the ballad was used as a game; but it is presumable that the author would have been explicit, had he meant this.
[156] Translated by George Stephens in the Foreign Quarterly Review, XXVI, 31.
[157] In the same collection, No 297, I, 297, there is no refusal on the part of the kindred, but what they offer is insufficient, and the maid succeeds by outbidding them. So in some of the corresponding German ballads, as Hoffmann und Richter, Nos 9, 10; Erk's Liederhort, Nos 51, 51^a, 51^b; Elwert, Ungedruckte Reste alten Gesangs, p. 43,==Liederhort, 51^c; Longard, p. 22, No 11; Fiedler, p. 141. In Ulmann's Lettische Volkslieder, 1874, p. 168 (cited by Reiffenberg), 'Der losgekaufte Soldat,' a conscript writes to father, mother, brother, sister, to buy him off, and they devote horses, cows, lands, dowry, to this object, but do not succeed. His mistress sells her wreath and frees him.
[158] Goetze, Stimmen des russischen Volks, p. 150; Wenzig, Slawische Volkslieder, p. 151.
[159] Translated by Anastasius Grün, Volkslieder aus Krain, p. 30.
96
THE GAY GOSHAWK
#A.# 'The Gay Goss Hawk,' Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 15, No 6.
#B.# Motherwell's MS., p. 230.
#C.# 'The Jolly Goshawk,' Motherwell's MS., p. 435; Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 353.
#D.# 'The Gay Goss-hawk,' Motherwell's Note-Book, 27; Motherwell's MS., p. 415.
#E.# 'The Gay Goss-hawk,' Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, II, 7, 1802.
#F.# Communicated by Miss Reburn, as sung in County Meath, Ireland.
#G.# 'The Scottish Squire,' Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 245.
The 'Gay Goshawk' first appeared in print in the second volume of Scott's Minstrelsy, in 1802. Scott's copy was formed partly from Mrs Brown's version, #A#, "and partly from a MS. of some antiquity _penes Edit_." This compounded copy is now given, #E#, with those portions which are contained in the Brown MS. printed in smaller type, in order that what is peculiar to the other manuscript may be distinguished. A second copy of #A# was made for William Tytler under the direction of the reciter in 1783, but has not been recovered. There were 28 stanzas, as in #A#, and the first stanza has been given by Anderson in Nichols's Illustrations, VII, 176. #C# was furnished Motherwell by Buchan from a manuscript sent him, and Buchan says that he himself took down from recitation the vilely dilated and debased #G#: Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 340.
A ballad widely known in France has the central idea of the Gay Goshawk, a maid's feigning death to escape from a father to a lover whom she is not permitted to marry, but in the development of the story there is no likeness. A version of this ballad, 'Belle Isambourg,' was printed as early as 1607 in a collection with the title Airs de Cour, p. 40, and was republished by Rathery in the Moniteur of August 26, 1853, p. 946, afterwards in Haupt's Französische Volkslieder, p. 92. The king wishes to give Fair Isambourg a husband, but her heart is fixed on a handsome knight, whom she loves more than all her kin together, though he is poor. The king shuts her up in a dark tower, thinking that this treatment will bring about a change, but it does not. Isambourg sees her lover riding towards or by the tower at full speed. She calls to him to stop, and says:
Malade et morte m'y feray, Porter en terre m'y lairray, Pourtant morte je ne seray.
Puis apres je vous prie amy, Qu'à ma chapelle a Sainct-Denis Ne m'y laissez pas enfouir.
Isambourg is now proclaimed to be dead, and is carried to burial by three princes and a knight. Her lover, hearing the knelling and chanting, puts himself in the way and bids the bearers stop. Since she has died for loving him too well, he wishes to say a De profundis. He rips open a little of the shroud, and she darts a loving smile at him. Everybody is astonished.
Other versions, derived from oral tradition, have a more popular stamp: (1.) Poésies populaires de la France, MS., III, 54, 'La fille du roi et le Prince de Guise,' learned at Maubeuge, about 1760. (2.) III, 47, 'Le beau Déon,' Auvergne. (3.) III, 49, 'La princesse de la Grand' Tour,' Berry. (4.) III, 50 (the hero being Léon), Berry. (5.) III, 53, Caudebec. (6.) III, 56, Pamiers, Languedoc. (7.) III, 57, and II, 52, Orléans. (8.) 'La fille d'un prince,' Buchon, Noëls et chants p. de la Franche-Comté, p. 82, No 16. (9.) 'La fille d'un prince,' Rondes et Chansons p. illustrées, Paris, 1876, p. 286. (10.) 'La princesse,' Guillon, Chansons p. de l'Ain, p. 87. (11.) 'La maîtresse captive,' Puymaigre, Chants p. messins, I, 87. (12.) Le Héricher, Littérature p. de Normandie, p. 153 f. (13.) 'De Dion et de la fille du roi,' Ampère, Instructions, p. 38, the first fourteen stanzas; Auvergne. (14.) G. de Nerval, La Bohème Galante, ed. 1866, p. 70, and Les Faux Saulniers, ed. 1868, p. 346, the story completed in Les Filles du Feu, ed. 1868, p. 132; or, in the collection lately made from his works, Chansons et Ballades p. du Valois, p. 16, VIII. The last two have a false termination, as already remarked under No 4, I, 42.
In these traditional versions, the father pays a visit to the princess after she has been confined seven years, and asks how she is. One side is eaten away by worms, her feet are rotting in the irons. She begs a few sous to give the jailer to loosen her fetters. Millions are at her disposal if she will give up her lover. Rather rot, is her reply. Rot, then, says her father. The lover comes by and throws a few words of writing into the tower, directing her to counterfeit death. The rest is much the same. In several versions the king yields.
There are many other ballads in which a girl, for one reason or another, feigns death. In 'Les trois capitaines,' or 'La jolie fille de la Garde,' etc., Arbaud, I, 143, Decombe, Ch. p. d'Ille-et-Vilaine, p. 150, No 51, Champfleury, Ch. p. des Provinces, p. 95, Bujeaud, II, 174, 'La Bohème Galante,' ed. 1866, p. 71 f, Chansons du Valois, p. 19, IX, Puymaigre, Vieux Auteurs, II, 478, E. Legrand, Romania, X, 369, No 6, the object is to save her honor;[160] so in Marcoaldi, p. 162, No 10, Ferraro, C. p. monferrini, p. 41, No 31. The well-disposed hostess of an inn administers a sleeping-draught, in Arbaud's ballad and in Decombe's. The object is to avoid becoming a king's mistress, in 'Kvindelist,' Grundtvig, IV, 394, No 235, 'Hertig Hillebrand och hans Syster,' Arwidsson, I, 380 No 61; in a Bohemian ballad, to avoid marrying a Turk, 'Oklamaný Turek,' 'The Turk duped,' Čelakovský, III, 11 (translated in Bowring's Cheskian Anthology, p. 129) Erben, p. 485, etc., etc.; to move a lover who is on the point of deserting, Hoffmann, Niederländische Volkslieder, p. 61, No 15, Willems, No 60, Uhland, No 97 #B#.
In 'Willie's Lyke-Wake,' No 25, I, 247, a man feigns death in order to capture a coy maid, or a maid refused him by her parents.
Birds are not seldom employed as posts in ballads: see 'Sweet William,' Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 307, Milá, Romancerillo, No 258; Hartung, Romanceiro, I, 193 (dove). A falcon carries a letter, in Afzelius, III, 116, No 87, and Milá, No 258 K, and Marko Kraljevitch sends a letter by a falcon from his prison, Karadshitch, II, 383. For a love-message of a general sort, not involving business, the nightingale is usually and rightly selected. On the other hand, a nightingale first orders a ring of a goldsmith, and afterwards delivers it to a lady, in Uhland, No 15.[161] In this ballad the goshawk is endowed with the nightingale's voice. The substitution of a parrot in #G#, a bird that we all know can talk, testifies to the advances made by reason among the humblest in the later generations.[162] A parrot, says Buchan, "is by far a more likely messenger to carry a love-letter or deliver a verbal message," II, 341. The parrot goes well with the heroine swooning on a sofa (stanza 33) and the step-dame sitting on the sofa's end (stanza 36).
Thieves drop three drops of _wax_ on the breast of a servant-girl who is feigning sleep, and she shows no sign of feeling, in a Catalan ballad, Milá, Romancerillo, p. 104, No 114, vv 13-16, Observaciones, p. 147, No 43, Briz, I, 147.[163]
Translated by Grundtvig, Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, No 32, after #E#, #C#, #G#. After #D# by Talvj, Versuch, u. s. w., p. 560; Schubart, p. 57; Doenniges, p. 19; Gerhard, p. 37; Loève-Veimars, p. 264. By Knortz, Lieder Alt-Englands, No 2, after #C#; by Rosa Warrens, Schottische Volkslieder, No 38, after #C# and #E#, sometimes following Aytoun, I, 178.
A
Jamieson-Brown MS., No 6, pt 15.
1 'O well's me o my gay goss-hawk, That he can speak and flee; He'll carry a letter to my love, Bring back another to me.'
2 'O how can I your true-love ken, Or how can I her know? Whan frae her mouth I never heard couth, Nor wi my eyes her saw.'
3 'O well sal ye my true-love ken, As soon as you her see; For, of a' the flowrs in fair Englan, The fairest flowr is she.
4 'At even at my love's bowr-door There grows a bowing birk, An sit ye down and sing thereon, As she gangs to the kirk.
5 'An four-and-twenty ladies fair Will wash and go to kirk, But well shall ye my true-love ken, For she wears goud on her skirt.
6 'An four and twenty gay ladies Will to the mass repair, But well sal ye my true-love ken, For she wears goud on her hair.'
7 O even at that lady's bowr-door There grows a bowin birk, An she set down and sang thereon, As she ged to the kirk.
8 'O eet and drink, my marys a', The wine flows you among, Till I gang to my shot-window, An hear yon bonny bird's song.
9 'Sing on, sing on, my bonny bird, The song ye sang the streen, For I ken by your sweet singin You 're frae my true-love sen.'
10 O first he sang a merry song, An then he sang a grave, An then he peckd his feathers gray, To her the letter gave.
11 '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.
12 'He bids you write a letter to him; He says he's sent you five; He canna wait your love langer, Tho you 're the fairest woman alive.'
13 'Ye bid him bake his bridal-bread, And brew his bridal-ale, An I 'll meet him in fair Scotlan Lang, lang or it be stale.'
14 She 's doen her to her father dear, Fa'n low down on her knee: 'A boon, a boon, my father dear, I pray you, grant it me.'
15 'Ask on, ask on, my daughter, An granted it sal be; Except ae squire in fair Scotlan, An him you sall never see.'
16 'The only boon, my father dear, That I do crave of the, Is, gin I die in southin lands, In Scotland to bury me.
17 'An the firstin kirk that ye come till, Ye gar the bells be rung, An the nextin kirk that ye come till, Ye gar the mess be sung.
18 'An the thirdin kirk that ye come till, You deal gold for my sake, An the fourthin kirk that ye come till, You tarry there till night.'
19 She is doen her to her bigly bowr, As fast as she coud fare, An she has tane a sleepy draught, That she had mixed wi care.
20 She's laid her down upon her bed, An soon she's fa'n asleep, And soon oer every tender limb Cauld death began to creep.
21 Whan night was flown, an day was come, Nae ane that did her see But thought she was as surely dead As ony lady coud be.
22 Her father an her brothers dear Gard make to her a bier; The tae half was o guide red gold, The tither o silver clear.
23 Her mither an her sisters fair Gard work for her a sark; The tae half was o cambrick fine, The tither o needle wark.
24 The firstin kirk that they came till, They gard the bells be rung, An the nextin kirk that they came till, They gard the mess be sung.
25 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!
26 'Lay down, lay down the bigly bier, Lat me the dead look on;' Wi cherry cheeks and ruby lips She lay an smil'd on him.
27 'O ae sheave o your bread, true-love, An ae glass o your wine, For I hae fasted for your sake These fully days is nine.
28 'Gang hame, gang hame, my seven bold brothers, Gang hame and sound your horn; An ye may boast in southin lans Your sister's playd you scorn.'
B
Motherwell's MS., p. 230: from the recitation of Mrs Bell, of Paisley, and of Miss Montgomerie, of Edinburgh, her sister.
1 Out then spoke the king of Scotland, And he spak wondrous clear: Where will I get a boy, and a pretty little boy, That will my tidings bear?
2 Out then spak a pretty little bird, As it sat on a brier: What will ye gie me, king of Scotland, he said, If I your tidings will bear?
3 'One wing of the beaten gowd, And another of the silver clear; It's all unto thee, my pretty little bird, If thou my tidings will bear.'
4 The bird flew high, the bird flew low, This bird flew to and fro, Until that he came to the king of England's dochter, Who was sitting in her bower-window.
5 'Here is a gift, a very rare gift, And the king has sent you three; He says if your father and mother winna let, You may come privately.
6 'Here is a gift, and a very rare gift, The king has sent you five; He says he will not wait any longer on you, If there be another woman alive.'
7 She's away to her mother dear, Made a low beck on her knee: 'What is your asking of me, daughter? Queen of Scotland you never shall be.'
8 'That's not my asking of thee, mother, That's not my asking of thee; But that if I die in merry England, In Scotland you will bury me.'
9 She's awa to her father dear, Made a low beck on her knee: 'What is your asking of me, daughter? Queen of Scotland you never shall be.'
10 'That's not my asking of thee, father, That's not my asking of thee; But that if I die in merry England, In Scotland you will bury me.'
11 She walked to and fro, She walked up and down, But ye wud na spoken three words to an end Till she was in a deep swoon.
12 Out then spoke an auld witch-wife, And she spoke random indeed: Honoured madam, I would have you to try Three drops of the burning lead.
13 Her mother went weeping round and round, She dropped one on her chin; 'Och and alace,' her mother did say, 'There is no breath within!'
14 Her mother went weeping round and round, She dropt one on her briest; 'Och and alace,' her mother did cry, 'For she's died without a priest!'
15 Her mother went weeping round and round, She dropped one on her toe; 'Och and alace,' her mother did cry, 'To Scotland she must goe!
16 'Call down, call down her sisters five, To make to her a smock; The one side of the bonny beaten gold, And the other of the needle-work.
17 'Call down, call down her brothers seven, To make for her a bier; The one side of the bonny beaten gold, And the other of the silver clear.'
18 Many a mile by land they went, And many a league by sea, Until that they came to the king of Scotland, Who was walking in his own valley.
19 'Here is a gift, and a very rare gift, And you to have made her your own; But now she is dead, and she's new come from her steed, And she's ready to lay in the ground.'
20 O he has opened the lid of the coffin, And likewise the winding sheet, And thrice he has kissed her cherry, cherry cheek, And she smiled on him full sweet.
21 'One hit of your bread,' she says, 'And one glass of your wine; It's all for you and your sake I've fasted long days nine.
22 'One glass of your wine,' she says, 'And one bit of your bread; For it 's all for you and for your sake I suffered the burning lead.
23 'Go home, go home, my brothers seven, You may go blow your horn; And you may tell it in merry England That your sister has given you the scorn.
24 'Go home, go home, my brothers seven, Tell my sisters to sew their seam; And you may tell it in merry England That your sister she is queen.'
C
Motherwell's MS., p. 435; communicated by Peter Buchan, from a MS. which had been sent him.
1 'O well is me, my jolly goshawk, That ye can speak and flee, For ye can carry a love-letter To my true-love from me.'
2 'O how can I carry a letter to her, When her I do not knaw? I bear the lips to her never spake, And the eyes that her never saw.'
3 'The thing of my love's face is white It's that of dove or maw; The thing of my love's face that's red Is like blood shed on snaw.
4 'And when you come to the castle, Light on the bush of ash, And sit you there and sing our loves, As she comes from the mass.
5 'And when she goes into the house, Sit ye upon the whin; And sit you there and sing our loves, As she goes out and in.'
6 And when he flew to that castel, He lighted on the ash; And there he sat and sang their loves, As she came from the mass.
7 And when she went into the house, He flew unto the whin; And there he sat and sang their loves, As she went out and in.
8 'Come hither, come hither, my maidens all, And sip red wine anon, Till I go to my west window, And hear a birdie's moan.'
9 She's gone unto her west window, And fainly aye it drew, And soon into her white silk lap The bird the letter threw.
10 'Ye're bidden send your love a send, For he has sent you twa; And tell him where he can see you, Or he cannot live ava.'
11 'I send him the rings from my white fingers, The garlands off my hair; I send him the heart that's in my breast: What would my love have mair? And at the fourth kirk in fair Scotland, Ye'll bid him meet me there.'
12 She hied her to her father dear, As fast as gang could she: 'An asking, an asking, my father dear, An asking ye grant me; That, if I die in fair England, In Scotland bury me.
13 'At the first kirk of fair Scotland, You cause the bells be rung; At the second kirk of fair Scotland, You cause the mass be sung.
14 'At the third kirk of fair Scotland, You deal gold for my sake; And the fourth kirk of fair Scotland, O there you'll bury me at.
15 'And now, my tender father dear, This asking grant you me;' 'Your asking is but small,' he said, 'Weel granted it shall be.'
16 She hied her to her mother dear, As fast as gang could she: 'An asking, an asking, my mother dear, An asking ye grant me; That if I die in fair England In Scotland bury me.
17 'And now, my tender mother dear, This asking grant you me;' 'Your asking is but small,' she said, 'Weel granted it shall be.'
18 She hied her to her sister dear, As fast as gang could she: 'An asking, an asking, my sister dear, An asking ye grant me; That if I die in fair England, In Scotland bury me.
19 'And now, my tender sister dear, This asking grant you me:' 'Your asking is but small,' she said, 'Weel granted it shall be.'
20 She hied her to her seven brothers, As fast as gang could she: 'An asking, an asking, my brothers seven, An asking ye grant me; That if I die in fair England, In Scotland ye bury me.
21 'And now, my tender brothers dear, This asking grant you me:' 'Your asking is but small,' they said, 'Weel granted it shall be.'
22 Then down as dead that lady drapd, Beside her mother's knee; Then out it spoke an auld witch-wife, By the fire-side sat she.
23 Says, Drap the hot lead on her cheek, And drop it on her chin, And drop it on her rose-red lips, And she will speak again: For much a lady young will do, To her true-love to win.
24 They drapd the het lead on her cheek, So did they on her chin; They drapt it on her red-rose lips, But they breathed none again.
25 Her brothers they went to a room, To make to her a bier; The boards of it was cedar wood, And the plates ow it gold so clear.
26 Her sisters they went to a room, To make to her a sark; The cloth of it was satin fine, And the steeking silken wark.
27 'But well is me, my jolly goshawk, That ye can speak and flee; Come shew to me any love-tokens That you have brought to me.'
28 'She sends you the rings from her fingers, The garlands from her hair; She sends you the heart within her breast; And what would you have mair? And at the fourth kirk of fair Scotland, She bids you meet her there.'
29 'Come hither, all my merry young men, And drink the good red wine; For we must on to fair Scotland, To free my love frae pine.'
30 At the first kirk of fair Scotland, They gart the bells be rung; At the second kirk of fair Scotland, They gart the mass be sung.
31 At the third kirk of fair Scotland, They dealt gold for her sake; And the fourth kirk of fair Scotland Her true-love met them at.
32 'Set down, set down the corpse,' he said, 'Till I look on the dead; The last time that I saw her face, She ruddy was and red; But now, alas, and woe is me! She's wallowit like a weed.'
33 He rent the sheet upon her face, A little above her chin; With lily-white cheeks, and lemin een, She lookt and laughd to him.
34 'Give me a chive of your bread, my love, A bottle of your wine; For I have fasted for your love These long days nine; There's not a steed in your stable But would have been dead ere syne.
35 'Go home, go home, my seven brothers, Go home and blow the horn; For you can say in the south of England Your sister gave you a scorn.
36 'I came not here to fair Scotland To lye amang the meal; But I came here to fair Scotland To wear the silks so weel.
37 'I came not here to fair Scotland To ly amang the dead; But I came here to fair Scotland To wear the gold so red.'
D
Motherwell's Note-Book, pp 27-30, Motherwell's MS., pp 415-17; from Agnes Laird, Kilbarchan, August 24, 1825.
1 'O where'll I get a pretty little bird That'll go my errand soon, That will fly to the Queen of England's dochter, And bid my trew-luve come?'
2 'Here am I, a pretty little bird, That'll go your errands soon, That will fly to the Queen of England's daughter, And bid your trew-luve come.'
3 This wee birdie's taken its flight, And it's flown owre the sea, Until it cam to the Queen of England's daughter; She's sitting in her bower-windie.
4 Then out bespoke these nine ladies, As they sat in a ring: 'O we'll awa to the west window, To hear this birdie sing.'
5 This wee birdie's taken its flight, And it's flown owre them a', And at the lady's left shoulder It loot a letter fa.
6 She has taken the letter up, And read it speedilie: 'O mother, the queen, O mother, the queen, Grant this request to me; Whenever I do chance for to die, In Scotland gar bury me.'
* * * * * * *
7 'Bring to me the red, red lead, And rub it on her chin; It's Oh and alace for my dochter Janet! But there is not a breath within.
8 'Bring to me the red, red lead, And rub it on her toe; It's Oh and alace for my daughter Janet! To Scotland she must go.'
9 'Rise up, rise up, ye seven sisters, And make her winding sheet, With the one side of the beaten gold, And the other o the needle-wark.
10 'Rise up, rise up, ye seven brethren, And make her carriage-bier, With the one side of the beaten gold, And the other o the silver clear.'
11 They've carried east, they 've carried west, They've carried her high and low, Until that they came to the king of Scotland, Was sitting in his bower-window.
12 'Here is a token of your trew-love, And here is a token come down, For she is dead, and she's ready to be buried, And she wants to be laid in your ground.'
13 He's taen out his mickle knife, And tore her winding sheet, And there she lay like the crimson red, And she smiled in his face so sweet.
14 'Go home, go home, you seven brethren, Go home and saw your corn, For she is fit for the queen of Scotland now, And she's gien you the scorn.
15 'Go home, go home, you seven sisters, Go home and sew your seam, For she is fit for the queen of Scotland now, And she's ready to be my queen.'
E
Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, II, 7, 1802; III, 151, 1833.
1 'O waly, waly, my gay goss-hawk, Gin your feathering be sheen!' 'And waly, waly, my master dear, Gin ye look pale and lean!
2 'O have ye tint at tournament Your sword, or yet your spear? Or mourn ye for the southern lass, Whom you may not win near?'
3 'I have not tint at tournament My sword, nor yet my spear, But sair I mourn for my true-love, Wi mony a bitter tear.
4 'But weel's me on ye, my gay goss-hawk, Ye can baith speak and flee; Ye sall carry a letter to my love, Bring an answer back to me.'
5 'But how sall I your true-love find, Or how suld I her know? I bear a tongue neer wi her spake, An eye that neer her saw.'
6 'O weel sall ye my true-love ken, Sae sune as ye her see, For of a' the flowers of fair England, The fairest flower is she.
7 'The red that's on my true-love's cheik Is like blood-drops on the snaw; The white that is on her breast bare Like the down o the white sea-maw.
8 'And even at my love's bouer-door There grows a flowering birk, And ye maun sit and sing thereon, As she gangs to the kirk.
9 'And four-and-twenty fair ladyes Will to the mass repair, But weel may ye my ladye ken, The fairest ladye there.'
10 Lord William has written a love-letter, Put it under his pinion gray, And he is awa to southern land, As fast as wings can gae.
11 And even at that ladye's bour There grew a flowering birk, And he sat down and sang thereon, As she gaed to the kirk.
12 And weel he kent that ladye feir Amang her maidens free, For the flower that springs in May morning Was not sae sweet as she.
13 [He lighted at the ladye's yate, And sat him on a pin, And sang fu sweet the notes o love, Till a' was cosh within.]
14 And first he sang a low, low note, And syne he sang a clear, And aye the oerword of the sang Was, Your love can no win here.
15 'Feast on, feast on, my maidens a', The wine flows you amang, While I gang to my shot-window, And hear yon bonny bird's sang.
16 'Sing on, sing on, my bonny bird, The sang ye sung yestreen; For weel I ken by your sweet singing Ye are frae my true-love sen.'
17 O first he sang a merry sang, And syne he sang a grave, And syne he peckd his feathers gray, To her the letter gave.
18 'Have there a letter from Lord William; He says he's sent ye three; He canna wait your love langer, But for your sake he 'll die.'
19 'Gae bid him bake his bridal bread, And brew his bridal ale, And I sall meet him at Mary's kirk, Lang, lang-ere it be stale.'
20 The lady's gane to her chamber, And a moanfu woman was she, As gin she had taen a sudden brash, And were about to die.
21 'A boon, a boon, my father deir, A boon I beg of thee!' 'Ask not that paughty Scotish lord, For him you neer shall see.
22 'But, for your honest asking else, Weel granted it shall be:' 'Then, gin I die in southern land, In Scotland gar bury me.
23 'And the first kirk that ye come to, Ye's gar the mass be sung, And the next kirk that ye come to, Ye's gar the bells be rung.
24 'And when ye come to St Mary's kirk, Ye's tarry there till night:' And so her father pledged his word, And so his promise plight.
25 She has taen her to her bigly bour, As fast as she could fare, And she has drank a sleepy draught, That she had mixed wi care.
26 And pale, pale grew her rosy cheek, That was sae bright of blee, And she seemed to be as surely dead As any one could be.
27 They drapt a drap o the burning red gowd, They drapt it on her chin; 'And ever alas,' her mother cried, 'There is nae life within!'
28 They drapt a drap o the burning red gowd, They drapt it on her breast-bane; 'Alas,' her seven bauld brothers said, 'Our sister's dead and gane!'
29 Then up arose her seven brethren, And hewd to her a bier; They hewd it frae the solid aik, Laid it oer wi silver clear.
30 Then up and gat her seven sisters, And sewed to her a kell, And every steek that they pat in Sewd to a siller bell.
31 The first Scots kirk that they cam to, They gard the bells be rung; The next Scots kirk that they cam to, They gard the mass be sung.
32 But when they cam to St Mary's kirk, There stude spearmen all on raw, And up and started Lord William, The chieftane amang them a'.
33 'Set down, set down the bier,' he said, 'Let me looke her upon:' But as soon as Lord William touched her hand, Her colour began to come.
34 She brightened like the lily-flower, Till her pale colour was gone; With rosy cheek, and ruby lip, She smiled her love upon.
35 'A morsel of your bread, my lord, And one glass of your wine, For I hae fasted these three lang days, All for your sake and mine.
36 'Gae hame, gae hame, my seven bauld brothers, Gae hame and blaw your horn; I trow you wad hae gien me the skaith, But I've gien you the scorn.
37 'Ah woe to you, you light woman, An ill death may you die! For we left father and mother at hame Breaking their hearts for thee.'
F
From Miss Margaret Reburn, as sung in County Meath, Ireland, about 1860.
* * * * * * *
1 She got three drops of boiling lead, And dropped them on her hand: 'Oh and alas, my daughter dear, I'd rather all my land!'
2 She got three drops of boiling lead, And dropped them on her chin: 'Oh and alas, my daughter dear, There is no life within!'
3 She got three drops of boiling lead, And dropped them on her toe: 'Oh and alas, my daughter dear, To fair Scotland you must go!'
* * * * * * *
4 'Give me a cake of the new made bread, And a cup of the new made wine, For for your sake, Lord Thomas,' she said, 'I fasted those days nine.'
G
Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 245, "from recitation."
1 When grass grew green on Lanark plains, And fruit and flowers did spring, A Scottish squire in cheerfu strains, Sae merrily thus did sing:
2 'O well fails me o my parrot That he can speak and flee; For he will carry love-letters Between my love and me.
3 'And well fails me o my parrot He can baith speak and gang; And he will carry love-letters To the maid in South England.'
4 'O how shall I your love find out? Or how shall I her know? When my tongue with her never spake, Nor my eyes her ever saw.'
5 'O what is red of her is red As blude drappd on the snaw; And what is white o her is white As milk, or the sea-maw.
6 'Even before that lady's yetts You'll find a bowing birk; And there ye'll sit, and sing thereon, Till she gaes to the kirk.
7 'Then even before that lady's yetts You'll find a bowing ash; And ye may sit and sing thereon, Till she comes frae the mass.
8 'And even before that lady's window You'll find a bed o tyme; And ye may sit and sing thereon, Till she sits down to dine.
9 'Even abeen that lady's window There's fixd a siller pin; And a' these words that I tell you, Ye'll sit and sing therein.
10 'Ye'll bid her send her love a letter, For he has sent her five; And he'll never send anither ane, To nae woman alive.
11 'Ye'll bid her send her love a letter, For he has sent her seven; And he'll never send anither send, To nae maid under heaven.'
12 This little bird then took his flight, Beyond the raging sea, And lighted at that lady's yetts, On tower o gowd sae hie.
13 Even before that lady's yetts He found a bowing birk; And there he sat, and sang thereon, Till she went to the kirk.
14 Even before that lady's yetts He found a bowing ash; And then he sat and sang thereon, Till she came frae the mass.
15 Even before that lady's window He found a bed o tyme; And then he sat and sang thereon, Till she sat down to dine.
16 Even abeen that lady's window Was fixd a siller pin; And a' the words that were tauld him, He sat and sang them in.
17 'You're bidden send your love a letter, For he has sent you five; Or he'll never send anither send, To nae woman alive.
18 'You're bidden send your love a letter, For he has sent you seven; And he'll never send anither send, To nae maid under heaven.'
19 'Sit in the hall, good ladies all, And drink the wine sae red, And I will to yon small window, And hear yon birdie's leed.
20 'Sing on, sing on, my bonny bird, The sang ye sung just now;' 'I'll sing nae mair, ye lady fair, My errand is to you.'
21 'If ye be my true-lovie's bird, Sae well's I will you ken; You will gae in at my gown-sleeve, Come out at my gown-hem.'
22 'That I am come frae your true-love, You soon shall see right plain; And read these lines below my wing, That I hae brought frae him.'
23 When she looked these lines upon, She read them, and she leuch: 'O well fails me, my true-love, now, O this I hae eneuch.
24 'Here is the broach on my breast-bane, The garlings frae my hair, Likewise the heart that is within; What woud my love hae mair?
25 'The nearest kirk in fair Scotland, Ye'll bid him meet me there:' She has gane to her dear father, Wi heart perplexd and sair.
26 When she came to her auld father, Fell low down on her knee: 'An asking, asking, father dear, I pray you grant it me.'
27 'Ask what you will, my dear daughter, And I will grant it thee; Unless to marry yon Scottish squire; That's what shall never be.'
28 'O that's the asking, father,' she said, 'That I'll neer ask of thee; But if I die in South England, In Scotland ye'll bury me.'
29 'The asking's nae sae great, daughter, But granted it shall be; And tho ye die in South England, In Scotland we'll bury thee.'
30 She has gane to her step-mother, Fell low down on her knee: 'An asking, asking, mother dear, I pray you grant it me.'
31 'Ask what ye please, my lily-white dove, And granted it shall be:' 'If I do die in South England, In Scotland bury me.'
32 'Had these words spoke been in again, I woud not granted thee; You hae a love in fair Scotland, Sae fain's you woud be tee.'
33 She scarce was to her chamber gane Nor yet was well set down, Till on the sofa where she sat Fell in a deadly swoon.
34 Her father and her seven brithers, They made for her a bier; The one half o't was gude red gowd, The other siller clear.
35 Her seven sisters were employed In making her a sark; The one half o't was cambric fine, The other needle-wark.
36 Then out it speaks her auld step-dame, Sat on the sofa's end: Ye'll drap the het lead on her cheek, Sae do you on her chin; For women will use mony a wile Their true-loves for to win.
37 Then up it raise her eldest brither, Into her bower he's gane; Then in it came her youngest brither, The het leed to drap on.
38 He drapt it by her cheek, her cheek, Sae did he by her chin; Sae did he by her comely hause; He knew life was therein.
39 The bier was made wi red gowd laid, Sae curious round about; A private entrance there contriv'd, That her breath might win out.
40 The first an kirk in fair Scotland, They gard the bells be rung; The niest an kirk in fair Scotland, They causd the mass be sung.
41 The third an kirk in fair Scotland, They passd it quietly by; The fourth an kirk in fair Scotland, Clerk Sandy did them spy.
42 'O down ye'll set this corpse o clay, Lat me look on the dead; For I may sigh, and say, alas! For death has nae remeid.'
43 Then he has cut her winding sheet A little below her chin, And wi her sweet and ruby lips She sweetly smil'd on him.
44 'Gie me a sheave o your white bread, A bottle o your wine; For I hae fasted for your sake Fully these lang days nine.
45 'Gae hame, gae hame, my seven brithers, Gae hame and blaw your trumpet; And ye may tell to your step-dame This day she is affronted.
46 'I camna here to fair Scotland To lye amo the dead; But came to be Clerk Sandy's wife, And lay gowd on my head.
47 'Gae hame, gae hame, my seven brithers, Gae hame and blaw your horn; And ye may tell in fair England In Scotland ye got the scorn.
48 'I came not here to fair Scotland To mix amang the clay; But came to be Clerk Sandy's wife, And wear gowd to my tae.'
49 'Sin ye hae gien us this ae scorn, We shall gie you anither; Ye shall hae naething to live upon But the bier that brought you hither.'
* * * * *
#A.#
_Written in stanzas of two long lines._
1. _In the Tytler-Brown MS._
O well's me o my gay goss hawke That he can speake and flee, Will carry a letter to my love, Bring another back to me.
#B.#
20^1. Oh.
24^1. by brothers.
#C.#
2^1. Oh.
12^2. shee.
_After 16_: etc., repeated as above.
_After 18^2_: etc., as above.
_After 20_: etc., as to father, mother, etc. _The verses not written out (and not printed in the Minstrelsy) have been supplied accordingly._
30^2. bells _altered in the MS. from_ mass.
26^3. clothe.
29^3. _In the Minstrelsy Motherwell has substituted ~England~ for ~Scotland~._
34^6. _Motherwell prints_ dead ere syne.
#D.#
_In his Note-Book, p. 27, Motherwell says that he got this copy of the ballad from ~Agnes Laird~; in the MS., p. 415, from ~Agnes Lyle~. Page 26 of the Note-Book shows that ~Laird~ is right._
#E.#
_The edition of 1833 inserts stanza 13, and substitutes for 27, 28 the following:_
Then spake her cruel step-minnie: 'Tak ye the burning lead, And drap a drap on her bosome, To try if she be dead.'
They took a drap o boiling lead, They drappd it on her breast; 'Alas, alas,' her father cried, 'She's dead without the priest!'
She neither chatterd with her teeth, Nor shiverd with her chin; 'Alas, alas,' her father cried, 'There is nae breath within!'
_After 36 is inserted:_
'Commend me to my grey father, That wished my saul gude rest, But wae be to my cruel step-dame, Garrd burn me on the breast.'
_And ~mother~, 37^3, is changed to ~sisters~. The step-mother clearly does not belong to this ballad._
[160] Or her soul, in a copy which terminates with a miracle, Victor Smith, Chansons du Velay, etc., Romania, IV, 114: where see note 2.
[161] See Uhland, III, 109 f, 171.
[162] The contrast presented by darker ages, when cheap literature was unknown, may be seen from these verses:
Ma mie reçoit de mes lettres Par l'alouette des champs; Elle m'envoie les siennes Par le rossignol chantant.
Sans savoir lire ni écrire Nous lisons ce qui est dedans; Il y a dedans ces lettres, 'Aime moi, je t'aime tant.'
(Le Moniteur, May 27, 1853.)
[163] The "red, red lead" of #D# 7, 8 I had at first supposed to show a carelessness about epithets, like the "roses blue" of a Danish ballad. But considering that the red lead is to be _rubbed on_, one may ask whether some occult property of minium may have been known to the mother.
97
BROWN ROBIN
#A.# 'Brown Robin.' #a.# Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 37. #b.# Abbotsford MS., "Scottish Songs."
#B.# 'Love Robbie,' Christie's Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 136.
#C.# 'Brown Robyn and Mally,' Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 299.
'Brown Robin' was No 7 in William Tytler's Brown MS. The first stanza is cited by Anderson, Nichols's Literary Illustrations, VII, 177, and there were twenty-one stanzas, as in #A a#. #A b# may have been a copy of the Tytler-Brown version. It does not seem to have been tampered with so much as other ballads in the same manuscript. The story undoubtedly stops at the right point in #A#, with the escape of the two lovers to the wood. The sequel in #C# is not at all beyond the inventive ability of Buchan's blind beggar, and some other blind beggar may have contrived the cane and the whale, the shooting and the hanging, in #B#.
Brown Robin is lover or husband of May Margerie, or May a Roe==Lillie Flower, in 'Jellon Grame,' No 90, #B# 14, #C# 7, and again of White Lilly in 'Rose the Red and White Lilly,' No 103, #A# 7 ff.
We have money given over the wall by an eloping lady, as in #B# 4, 5, #C# 5, also in 'Willie o Douglas Dale,' No 101, #C# 4, 5.
#A# 1, nearly, is stanza 5 in Jamieson's 'Glenkindie;' see p. 141 of this volume, note to #B#.
#C# is translated by Gerhard, p. 175.
A
#a.# Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 37. #b.# Abbotsford MS., "Scottish Songs."
1 The king but an his nobles a'} _bis_ Sat birling at the wine;} He would ha nane but his ae daughter To wait on them at dine.
2 She's servd them butt, she's servd them ben, Intill a gown of green, But her ee was ay on Brown Robin, That stood low under the rain.
3 She's doen her to her bigly bowr, As fast as she coud gang, An there she's drawn her shot-window, An she's harped an she sang.
4 'There sits a bird i my father's garden, An O but she sings sweet! I hope to live an see the day Whan wi my love I'll meet.'
5 'O gin that ye like me as well As your tongue tells to me, What hour o the night, my lady bright, At your bowr sal I be?'
6 'Whan my father an gay Gilbert Are baith set at the wine, O ready, ready I will be To lat my true-love in.'
7 O she has birld her father's porter Wi strong beer an wi wine, Untill he was as beastly drunk As ony wild-wood swine: She's stown the keys o her father's yates An latten her true-love in.
8 Whan night was gane, an day was come, An the sun shone on their feet, Then out it spake him Brown Robin, I'll be discoverd yet.
9 Then out it spake that gay lady: My love, ye need na doubt; For wi ae wile I've got you in, Wi anither I'll bring you out.
10 She's taen her to her father's cellar, As fast as she can fare; She's drawn a cup o the gude red wine, Hung't low down by her gare; An she met wi her father dear Just coming down the stair.
11 'I woud na gi that cup, daughter, That ye hold i your han For a' the wines in my cellar, An gantrees whare the stan.'
12 'O wae be to your wine, father, That ever't came oer the sea; 'T'is pitten my head in sick a steer I my bowr I canna be.'
13 'Gang out, gang out, my daughter dear, Gang out an tack the air; Gang out an walk i the good green wood, An a' your marys fair.'
14 Then out it spake the proud porter-- Our lady wishd him shame-- We'll send the marys to the wood, But we'll keep our lady at hame.'
15 'There's thirty marys i my bowr, There's thirty o them an three; But there's nae ane amo them a' Kens what flowr gains for me.'
16 She's doen her to her bigly bowr, As fast as she could gang, An she has dresst him Brown Robin Like ony bowr-woman.
17 The gown she pat upon her love Was o the dainty green, His hose was o the saft, saft silk, His shoon o the cordwain fine.
18 She's pitten his bow in her bosom, His arrow in her sleeve, His sturdy bran her body next, Because he was her love.
19 Then she is unto her bowr-door, As fast as she coud gang; But out it spake the proud porter-- Our lady wishd him shame-- We'll count our marys to the wood, An we'll count them back again.'
20 The firsten mary she sent out Was Brown Robin by name; Then out it spake the king himsel, 'This is a sturdy dame.'
21 O she went out in a May morning, In a May morning so gay, But she came never back again, Her auld father to see.
B
Christie's Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 136, from the recitation of an old woman in Buckie, Enzie, Banffshire.
1 'A feathered fowl's in your orchard, father, O dear, but it sings sweet! What would I give, my father dear, That bonnie bird to meet!' What would I give, etc.
2 'O hold your tongue, my daughter Mary, Let a' your folly be; There's six Scots lords tomorrow, child, That will a' dine wi me, And ye maun serve them a', Mary, As't were for meat and fee.'
3 She served them up, sae has she down, The footmen a' the same, But her mind was aye on Love Robbie, Stood out below the rain.
4 A hundred pun o pennies roun, Tied in a towel so sma, She has gien to him Love Robbie, Out oer the castle-wa; Says, Tak ye that, my love Robbie. And mysel ye may hae.
5 A hundred pun o pennies roun, Tied in a napkin white, She has gien to him Love Robbie, Out oer the garden-dyke; Says, Tak ye that, my Love Robbie, And mysel gin ye like.
6 'If this be true ye tell to me, As your tongue woudna lee, I shall be in your bigly bower Before the clock strike three; I shall be in your bigly bower, Dressd like a gay ladye.'
7 When bells were rung, and mass was sung, And all men bound for bed, Love Robbie came to Mary's bower, Dressd like a comely maid.
8 They had not kissd nor love clappëd, As lovers when they meet, Till sighing said he Love Robbie, My life, my life I doubt.
9 'Your life, your life, you Love Robbie, Your life you needna doubt; For it was wiles brought in Robbie, And wiles will lat him out.'
10 Then in it came her father dear, And stood upon the floor, And she filld the cup of good red wine, Said, Father, will ye drink more?
11 'O better I love the cup, Mary, The cup that's in your hand, Than all my barrels full of wine, On the gantrees where they stand.'
12 'O woe be to your wine, father, It eer came oer the sea! If I getna the air o good greenwood O I will surely dee.'
13 'There's seven maries in your bower, There's seven o them and three, And I'll send them to good greenwood, For flowers to shortsome thee.'
14 'There's seven maries in my bower, There's seven o them and three, But there's nae a mary mang them a' Can pu flowers to shortsome me:' 'Then by my sooth,' said her father dear, 'Let yoursel gang them wi.'
15 She dressd hersel in the royal red, Love Robbie was in dainty green; Love Robbie's brand was about his middle, And he shone like ony queen.
16 The firsten ane that took the floor, Love Robbie was that ane: 'Now by my sooth,' said the proud porter, 'She is a sonsie dame; I would not care now very much To turn her in again.'
17 'I'd fain see any woman or man, Of high or low degree, Would turn a mary in again That once came out with me.'
18 They had not been in good greenwood, Pu'd a flower but only three, Till the porter stood behind a bush, And shot him Love Robbie.
19 Now word has come to her father dear, In the chamber where he lay, Lady Mary's sick in good greenwood, And cannot come away.
20 He's taen his mantle him about, His cane into his han, And he is on to good greenwood, As fast as he could gang.
21 'O want you fish out o the fleed, Or whale out o the sea? Or is there any one alive This day has angerd thee?'
22 'I want not fish out o the fleed, Nor whale out o the sea; But woe be to your proud porter, Sae sair's he's angerd me! He's shot the fairest flower this day, That would hae comfort me.'
23 'O hold your tongue, my daughter Mary, Let a' your folly be; Tomorrow ere I eat or drink High hangëd shall he be.'
C
Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 299.
1 'There is a bird in my father's orchard, And dear, but it sings sweet! I hope to live to see the day This bird and I will meet.'
2 'O hold your tongue, my daughter Mally, Let a' your folly be; What bird is that in my orchard Sae shortsome is to thee?
3 'There are four-an-twenty noble lords The morn shoud dine wi me; And ye maun serve them a', Mally, Like one for meat and fee.'
4 She servd the nobles all as one, The horsemen much the same; But her mind was aye to Brown Robyn, Beneath the heavy rain.
5 Then she's rowd up a thousand pounds Intil a servit white, And she gae that to Brown Robyn, Out ower the garden-dyke: Says, Take ye that, my love Robyn, And mysell gin ye like.
6 'If this be true, my dame,' he said, 'That ye hae tauld to me, About the hour o twall at night, At your bower-door I'll be.'
7 But ere the hour o twall did chap, And lang ere it was ten, She had hersell there right and ready To lat Brown Robyn in.
8 They hadna kissd nor love clapped Till the birds sang on the ha; 'O,' sighing says him Brown Robyn, 'I wish I were awa!'
9 They hadna sitten muckle langer Till the guards shot ower the way; Then sighing says him Brown Robyn, 'I fear my life this day.'
10 'O had your tongue, my love Robyn, Of this take ye nae doubt; It was by wiles I brought you in, By wiles I'll bring you out.'
11 Then she's taen up a cup o wine, To her father went she; 'O drink the wine, father,' she said, 'O drink the wine wi me.'
12 'O well love I the cup, daughter, But better love I the wine; And better love I your fair body Than a' the gowd in Spain.'
13 'Wae be to the wine, father, That last came ower the sea; Without the air o gude greenwood, There's nae remeid for me.'
14 'Ye've thirty maries in your bower, Ye've thirty and hae three; Send ane o them to pu a flower, Stay ye at hame wi me.'
15 'I've thirty maries in my bower, I've thirty o them and nine; But there's nae a marie amo them a' That kens my grief and mind.
16 'For they may pu the nut, the nut, And sae may they the slae, But there's nane amo them a' that kens The herb that I woud hae.'
17 'Well, gin ye gang to gude greenwood, Come shortly back again; Ye are sae fair and are sae rare, Your body may get harm.'
18 She dressd hersell into the red, Brown Robyn all in green, And put his brand across his middle, He was a stately dame.
19 The first ane stepped ower the yett, It was him Brown Robyn; 'By my sooth,' said the proud porter, 'This is a stately dame.
20 'O wi your leave, lady,' he said, 'And leave o a' your kin, I woudna think it a great sin To turn that marie in.'
21 'O had your tongue, ye proud porter, Let a' your folly be; Ye darena turn a marie in That ance came forth wi me.'
22 'Well shall I call your maries out, And as well shall I in; For I am safe to gie my oath That marie is a man.'
23 Soon she went to gude greenwood, And soon came back again; 'Gude sooth,' replied the proud porter, 'We've lost our stately dame.'
24 'My maid's faen sick in gude greenwood, And sick and liken to die; The morn before the cocks do craw, That marie I maun see.'
25 Out it spake her father then, Says, Porter, let me know If I will cause her stay at hame, Or shall I let her go?
26 'She says her maid's sick in the wood, And sick and like to die; I really think she is too gude Nor ever woud make a lie.'
27 Then he whispered in her ear, As she was passing by, 'What will ye say if I reveal What I saw wi my eye?'
28 'If ought ye ken about the same, O heal that well on me, And if I live or brook my life, Rewarded ye shall be.'
29 Then she got leave o her father To gude greenwood again, And she is gane wi Brown Robyn, But't was lang ere she came hame.
30 O then her father began to mourn, And thus lamented he: 'O I woud gie ten thousand pounds My daughter for to see.'
31 'If ye will promise,' the porter said, 'To do nae injury, I will find out your daughter dear, And them that's gane her wi.'
32 Then he did swear a solemn oath, By a' his gowd and land, Nae injury to them's be dune, Whether it be maid or man.
33 The porter then a letter wrote, And seald it wi his hand, And sent it to that lady fair, For to return hame.
34 When she came to her father's ha, He received her joyfullie, And married her to Brown Robyn; Now a happy man was he.
35 She hadna been in her father's ha A day but barely three, Till she settled the porter well for life, Wi gowd and white monie.
* * * * *
#A. a.#
_Written in stanzas of two long lines. The first stanza, as given by Anderson, is:_
The king Val(?) and his nobles a' Sat drinking at the wine; He woud ha nane but his ae daughter To wait on them at dine.
18^1. boson: _the king's daughter must have been_ "a sturdy dame" too.
21^2. so gray. _The sun was up_: _see stanza 8_.
#b.#
1^2. Were drinking.
2^1. She served them butt.
2^2. Baith knights and gallants sheen.
2^3. was still.
3^2. might gang.
3^3. And she has.
4^1. in yonder tree.
4^2. vow but he.
4^4. my love and I shall.
5^1. Gin ye luve me as weel, fair maid.
6^1. my auld father.
6^2. Sit drinking.
6^3. will I.
7^1. has hired the proud porter.
7^2. Wi the ale but and the.
7^{5, 6}. She's slipped aff hir silken sheen, And saftly trippd she down; She's stown the key o hir father's yate, And let hir true love in.
8^2. shined.
8^3. out and spake.
9^1. O out and spake.
9^3. As wi ae wile I hae brought.
10^{1, 2}. _wanting._
10^5. she has met her auld.
10^6. Came creeping up.
11. _wanting._
12^2. ever it crossd.
12^3. It has put.
12^4. canna stay.
13^4. Wi a'
14^1. and spake.
14^2. send him.
14^4. But keep the princess.
15^4. flowr's gude.
16^1. hied her.
16^2. Sae fast as she might.
16^{3, 4}. She's putten a goun upon hir love Was of the dainty green.
17^{1, 2}. The girdle round his stately waist Wi gowd and silver shone.
17^3. His stockings o.
17^4. And his shune o the cordovan.
18^1. She put.
18^2. up her.
18^3. her fair side next.
19. _wanting._
20^3. By the faith o my body, then said the king.
20^4. a lusty.
21^1. gaed out.
21^2. sae gay.
98
BROWN ADAM
#A.# 'Brown Adam,' Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 17.
#B.# 'Broun Edom,' Harris MS., fol. 27 b, No 26.
#C.# 'Brown Adam the Smith,' Buchan MSS, I, 46.
'Brown Adam' was No 14 of the fifteen ballads furnished William Tytler by Mrs Brown in 1783: Anderson, in Nichols's Illustrations, VII, 178. The ballad was first printed in the Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, II, 16, 1802, with the omission of Mrs Brown's second stanza, and some changes. Scott remarks that he had seen a copy printed on a single sheet.
#C# 1, 3, 6, 7 are very close to #A# 1, 2, 3, 4. #A# 2 was not printed by Scott, and if these stanzas were borrowed, #A# 2 must have been taken from the Jamieson MS., to which other cases of correspondence warrant a suspicion that one of Buchan's contributors had access. #C# has the usual marks of Buchan's copies, great length, vulgarity, and such extravagance and absurdity as are found in stanzas 23, 26, 29.
A Danish ballad, from manuscripts of the sixteenth century and later, has a remote likeness to 'Brown Adam:' 'Den afhugne Haand,' Grundtvig, No 199, IV, 153. Lawi Pedersøn, who has shown bad faith to women, makes love to Lutzelil, who knows his ways, and rejects him summarily. Lawi rides off in wrath, saying that she shall be sorry for it. The maid is afraid to go to church for nine months, but ventures at Easter. Lawi stops her in a wood. She begs him to do her no harm, feigns to be amenable, and gives him an assignation at an off-lying apartment in which she sleeps with her maids; then rides away, laughing over her successful evasion. She tells her father how she has met Lawi, and begs him to be on the watch. Lawi comes at night, knocks, and is answered, according to the formula of Danish ballads, that she has made no appointment and he cannot come in. Lawi threatens to take off the door, and does so. Lutzelil's father is standing ready with his sword, and cuts off Lawi's hand.
* * * * *
The copy in Scott's Minstrelsy is translated by Grundtvig, Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, No 45, p. 291; by Schubart, p. 65; Arndt, Blütenlese, p. 231; Rosa Warrens, Schottische Volkslieder, No 29, p. 130; Knortz, Schottische Balladen, No 2, p. 5.
A
Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 17.
1 O wha woud wish the win to blaw, Or the green leaves fa therewith? Or wha wad wish a leeler love Than Brown Adam the Smith?
2 His hammer's o the beaten gold, His study's o the steel, His fingers white are my delite, He blows his bellows well.
3 But they ha banishd him Brown Adam Frae father and frae mither, An they ha banishd him Brown Adam Frae sister and frae brither.
4 And they ha banishd Brown Adam Frae the flowr o a' his kin; An he's biggit a bowr i the good green wood Betwen his lady an him.
5 O it fell once upon a day Brown Adam he thought lang, An he woud to the green wood gang, To hunt some venison.
6 He's ta'en his bow his arm oer, His bran intill his han, And he is to the good green wood, As fast as he coud gang.
7 O he's shot up, an he's shot down, The bird upo the briar, An he's sent it hame to his lady, Bade her be of good cheer.
8 O he's shot up, an he's shot down, The bird upo the thorn, And sent it hame to his lady, And hee'd be hame the morn.
9 Whan he came till his lady's bowr-door He stood a little foreby, And there he heard a fu fa'se knight Temptin his gay lady.
10 O he's taen out a gay gold ring, Had cost him mony a poun: 'O grant me love for love, lady, An this sal be your own.'
11 'I loo Brown Adam well,' she says, 'I wot sae does he me; An I woud na gi Brown Adam's love For nae fa'se knight I see.'
12 Out has he ta'en a purse of gold, Was a' fu to the string: 'Grant me but love for love, lady, An a' this sal be thine.'
13 'I loo Brown Adam well,' she says, 'An I ken sae does he me; An I woudna be your light leman For mair nor ye coud gie.'
14 Then out has he drawn his lang, lang bran, And he's flashd it in her een: 'Now grant me love for love, lady, Or thro you this sal gang!'
15 'O,' sighing said that gay lady, 'Brown Adam tarrys lang!' Then up it starts Brown Adam, Says, I'm just at your han.
16 He's gard him leave his bow, his bow, He's gard him leave his bran; He's gard him leave a better pledge, Four fingers o his right han.
B
Harris MS., fol. 27 b, No 26.
1 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . For wha ere had a lealer luve Than Broun Edom the smith?
2 His studie was o the beaten gowd, His hammer o the pith; His cords waur o the gude green silk, That blew his bellows with.
3 It fell out ance upon a time Broun Edom he thoucht lang, That he wald gae to see his luve, By the le licht o the mune.
C
Buchan MSS, I, 46.
1 O wha woud wish the win to blaw, The green leaves fa therewith? O wha would wish a leeler luve Than Brown Adam the Smith?
2 O he forsook the royal court, And knights and lords sae gude, And he is to the black smithy, To learn to shoe a steed.
3 His hammer-shaft o gude red gowd, His studdy o the steel, His fingers whyte, and maids' delight, And blaws his bellows weel.
4 He being a favourite with the king Caused him get mony a fae, And sae their plots they did contrive To work him grief and wae.
5 Of treason then he was accused By his fause enemie, Which caused the king to make a vow That banishd he shoud be.
6 Then banishd hae they Brown Adam Frae father and frae mither, And banishd hae they him Brown Adam Frae sister and frae brither.
7 And they hae banishd him Brown Adam, The flower o a' his kin; He built a bower in gude green wood, For his true love and him.
8 But it fell ance upon a day The king's young son thought lang, And minded him on Brown Adam, Oft rade on his right han.
9 Then he sent for him Brown Adam, To shoe his milk-white steed, That he might see him ance in court, Mang knights o noble bleed.
10 When Brown Adam he read these lines, A light laugh then gae hee: 'What's this that's made their hearts to fa, They lang sae sair for mee?'
11 Then out it speaks his gay ladye: Brown Adam, bide wi mee; For if ye gang to court, I fear Your face I'll never see.
12 'Cheer up your heart, my ain true-love, Let naething cause your grief; Though I be absent for some days, Ye seen will get relief.'
13 Then he has kissd his gay ladye, And rade alang the lay, And hunted a' the wild birds there, As he rade on the way.
14 He shot the bunting o the bush, The linnet o the brier, And sent them on to gude green wood, His ladye's heart to cheer.
15 He shot the bunting o the bush, The linnet o the wand, And sent them on to his ladye, Forbade her to think lang.
16 He shot the bunting o the bush, The linnet o the thorn, And sent them on to his ladye, Said he'd be hame the morn.
17 A thought then came into his mind, As he rade on the way, Some evil in his absence might Befa his ladye gay.
18 Now when he had the prince' steed shod, And bound again to ryde, He turned his horse to Ringlewood; Some days he meant to byde.
19 But when he turned to Ringlewood, Ae foot's horse woudna ryde; Whan he turned to his luver's bower, He flew like ony glyde.
20 When he drew near to his luve's bower, There he alighted down, For the hearing o his great horse tramp Ere he wan to the town.
21 Whan he came to his luver's bower, He heard a dolefu din; He wasna aware o a fu fause knight, His true-love's bower within.
22 He bound his steed to his ain stall, And gae him corn and hay, And listened at a shott-window, To hear what he would say.
23 The first and thing the knight drew out, It was a coffer fine; It was as fu o gude black silk, Make ladyes for to shine.
24 'Ye are too lack o luve, ladye, And that's a hatefu thing; Luve me, and lat Brown Adam be, And a' this shall be thine.'
25 'O well I like Brown Adam,' she said, 'I wyte hee hates nae mee; I winna forsake him Brown Adam For a' your gifts an thee.'
26 The next and thing the knight drew out, It was a coffer small; It was as fou o shambo gluves, Woud had her hands frae caul.
27 'Ye are too lack o luve, ladye, An that's a hatefu thing; Luve me, an lat Brown Adam be, An a' this shall be thine.'
28 'O well like I Brown Adam,' she said, 'I'm sure he hates nae me; I winna forsake him Brown Adam For a' your gifts an thee.'
29 The next and thing the knight drew out It was a coffer fine; It was as fu of gude red gowd As a guinea coud get in.
30 'You are too lack o luve, ladye, And that's a hatefu thing; Luve me, and lat Brown Adam be, And a' this shall be thine.'
31 'O well I like Brown Adam,' she said, 'I'm sure hee hates nae mee; I winna forsake him Brown Adam For a' the gowd ye 'll gie.'
32 Then his mild mood did quickly change, And grew mair fierce and cruel, And then drew out a trusty brand, Which made her heart to pruel.
33 'Since I by you am slighted sae, Since I frae you maun part, I swear a vow before I gae, That this shall pierce your heart.'
34 'But still I like Brown Adam,' she said, 'I wat hee hates nae mee; And if he knew my troubles now At my call woud hee be.
35 'Although he were sax miles awa, He'd seen be at my han; But wae is me, sae may I say, Brown Adam tarries lang!'
36 He hit the door then wi his foot, Made a' the bands to flee: 'Cheer up your heart, my luve Janet, Your love's nae far frae thee.'
37 Then he drew out a trusty brand, And chassd him thro the ha; The knight jumpd to a shott-window, And woud hae been awa.
38 'Stay still, stay still,' Brown Adam said, 'Make nae sic haste frae mee; You or I maun rue the race That I came ower the lee.'
39 Then frae the knight he's taen a wad, His mantle and his brand; Likewise he's taen anither wad, His sword and his sword-hand.
40 He threw him ower the shott-window, Bade him lie there wi care, And never come back to gude green wood To marr fair ladies mair.
41 'O I am brown,' said Brown Adam, 'And I was never whyte; But my love has robes o different hues, To wear at her delyght.
42 'Her kirchies be o cambricks fine, Wi gowd pinnd to the chin; Her robes shall be o the scarlet hue She shall gang daily in.'
* * * * *
#A.#
_Anderson cites the first stanza, in exact agreement with the Jamieson MS., except that the third line begins with ~O~._
3^2. mother (?).
7^4. Beede (?).
15^2. long.
99
JOHNIE SCOT
#A.# 'Jack, the Little Scot,' Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 5.
#B.# 'McNaughtan,' Glenriddell MSS, XI, 78.
#C.# 'Johnie Scot,' Motherwell's MS., p. 213.
#D.# 'Johnnie Scot,' Motherwell's MS., p. 205.
#E.# 'McNachton,' Motherwell's MS., p. 113.
#F.# 'Bonnie Johnie Scot,' Motherwell's MS., p. 211.
#G.# 'Johnie Scott,' Motherwell's Note-Book, p. 35; Motherwell's MS., p. 394.
#H.# 'Love Johny,' Kinloch MSS, VI, 53.
#I.# 'Johnie Buneftan,' Kinloch MSS, VII, 39, 41, 43, 45, 47, 49.
#J.# Kinloch MSS, VII, 40, 42, 46, 49.
#K.# 'Johnie, the Little Scot,' Kinloch MSS, I, 311.
#L.# 'Johnnie Scott,' Campbell MSS, I, 57.
#M.# 'Lord Johnnie Scott,' Campbell MSS, II, 335.
#N.# 'Lord John,' Buchan's Gleanings, p. 122.
#O.# 'Johnie Scot,' communicated by Mr Macmath.
#P.# Motherwell's Note-Book, p. 11.
#A# was No 2 of the fifteen ballads in William Tytler's lost Brown MS.: Nichols's Illustrations, VII, 176. There is a copy of #A# in the Abbotsford MS., "Scottish Songs," fol. 24, with many wilful alterations and a few readings from tradition. The ballad printed in Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 204, is a compound of #C#, #D#, #E#, and the one in Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 77, is made up from #I#, #J#, "recited versions obtained in the north and west" of Scotland, with some slight changes.
The story of 'Willie o Winsbury,' No 100, has considerable resemblance to that of 'Johnie Scot,' but Willie's extreme beauty moves the king, the lady's father, to offer his daughter to him in marriage, without a combat. Mrs Brown's version of 'Willie o Douglas Dale,' No 101, #A#, begins with the first stanza of her version of 'Johnie Scot,' #A#. So does 'Young Betrice,' another ballad of hers, No 5 of William Tytler's MS.:
Young Betrice was as brave a knight As ever saild the sea, And he's taen him to the court of France, To serve for meat and fee.
Anderson, who cites this stanza, Nichols's Illustrations, as above, remarks: "The conduct of the story is different from that of No 2 ['Jack, the Little Scot'], which it resembles. Some of the lines are in 'Gil Morrice.'" 'Young Betrice' may possibly be a variety of 'Hugh Spencer:' see 'Hugh Spencer,' #C#.
There is resemblance to 'Child Maurice,' No 83, besides the commonplace of the messenger-boy, in the sending of a token to the lady, #A# 12, 13, #D# 6, #E# 2, #H# 4, 5, #J# 4, #M# 8, #N# 11, 12; 'Child Maurice,' #A# 7, 8, #B# 3, 4, #C# 3, 4, 5, #D#, #E# 6, 7, #F# 17, 18. In the present ballad the token is a sark of silk (#M# 8, simply shirt); so in 'Child Maurice,' #D# 7, #F# 18. The blessing on the errand-boy, #A# 8, is found in 'Fair Mary of Wallington,' No 91, #B# 9.
While John, the Scot, is in service at the English court, the king's daughter becomes with child to him. She is thrown into prison. Johnie, who has fled to Scotland, sends a messenger to her with a token which she will recognize, urging her to come to him. An answer is returned that she is in chains. Johnie resolves to go to the rescue. He is warned of the danger, but a body of Scots attends him, five hundred men, #A-D#, #O#, twenty-four, #E#, #G#, #I#; all unmarried, #B#, #D#, #E#, #G#, #H#, #I#, #O#. When he arrives at the English court, the king asks his name. His name is Pitnachton, #A# 26; McNaughtan, #B# 17, #E# 14, cf. #C# 16; Auchney, #H# 21; Buneftan, #I# 14; Johnie Scot, Love John, #C# 17, #K# 12, #L# 13, #N# 26; Earl Hector, #D# 18. The king will hang the Scot on his daughter's account. Resistance is threatened by Johnie's friends. The king has a champion who will fight them three by three, #A# 29, #B# 20, #E# 18, #F# 17, #N# 30. This champion is an Italian, #A# 29, #I# 17, #L# 16, #N# 31, #O# 8; an Itilian, #H# 27; Talliant, Tailliant, #C# 22, #D# 23, #F# 17, #G# 16. The Scot kills the Italian in a duel. In #C# 24, #D# 25, #F# 19, #G# 18, the Italian jumps over Johnie's head, skims over it like a swallow, and is apparently run through while so doing. Johnie calls for a priest to marry his love and him, the king for a clerk to write the tocher. But tocher is refused by the Scot, who wants only his dearly won lady.
The champion is described in #A# 31 as a gurious (grugous, gruous?) ghost; in #H# 27 as a greecy (frightful) ghost; in #L# 18 he is a fearsome sight, with three women's-spans between his brows and three yards between his shoulders; in the Abbotsford copy of #A#, 29, 30, a grisly sight, with a span between his eyes, between his shoulders three and three, and Johnie scarcely reaching his knee. These points are probably taken from another and a later ballad, which is perhaps an imitation, and might almost be called a parody, of Johnie Scot, 'Lang Johnny Moir:' see Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 248.
The process of striping a sword oer a stane or to the stran, #N# 28, #H# 28, striking it across the plain, #A# 32, #K# 14, is that of whetting or wiping, already noted under No 81, II, 243 f. To the places cited there may be added 'Child Maurice,' #F# 30, 'Jellon Grame,' No 90, #B# 8, 21, #C# 14, 'The Baffled Knight,' No 112, #A# 10. #G# 20^2 is a manifest corruption, a repetition of 17^2; #K# 14 has been corrected, in conformity with #A# 32.
The Rev. Andrew Hall, in his Interesting Roman Antiquities recently discovered in Fife, 1823, p. 216, relates the following story, on traditional authority.[164] James Macgill, of Lindores, had killed Sir Robert Balfour, of Denmiln, in a duel which he had wished to avoid, about the year 1679. Macgill "immediately went up to London in order to procure his pardon, which it seems the king, Charles the Second, offered to grant him upon condition of his fighting an Italian gladiator or bravo, or, as he was then called, a bully; which, it is said, none could be found to do.... Accordingly a large stage was erected for the exhibition before the king and court.... Sir James, it is said, stood on the defensive till the bully had spent himself a little, being a taller man than Sir James. In his mighty gasconading and bravadoing he actually leaped over the knight as if he would swallow him alive, but in attempting to do this a second time Sir James run his sword up through him, and then called out, 'I have spitted him; let them roast him who will.' This not only procured his pardon, but he was also knighted on the spot."
The exploit of Johnie Scot, and, if you please, of Sir James Macgill, has been achieved as well on the south side of the English Channel. The Breton seigneur Les Aubrays, or Lizandré, of St Brieux, is ordered by the French king to undertake a combat with his wild Moor. Les Aubrays asks a page, who brings the king's command, about the Moor's fashion of fighting. The Moor is master of devilish magic, and has herbs about him by virtue of which any wounds he may get are soon healed. The Breton is told, among other things, that he must throw holy water at the Moor the moment the savage draws, and when the Moor makes a leap in the air he must receive him on the point of his sword. These instructions are followed with perfect success. When the Moor is "swimming" in the air, Lizandré so disposes his sword as to take him on it. Luzel, 'Lezobre,' etc., 'Les Aubrays et le More du Roi,' second and third versions, I, 300-03, 294, 295; 'Le Géant Lizandré II, 568-71, 'Le Géant Les Aubrays,' 576-79; Poésies populaires de la France, MS., vol. i, near the beginning. Though the brave Breton is called giant in the title of Luzel's last two versions, nothing is said in the ballads of his being of unusual proportions. He is victorious in nineteen fights, but it is because of his profuse liberality to St Anne; it borders on the irreligious, therefore, to call him a giant.[165]
* * * * *
The copy in Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 204, is translated by Wolff, Halle der Völker, I, 15, Hausschatz, p. 210.
A
Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 5.
1 O Johney was as brave a knight As ever saild the sea, An he's done him to the English court, To serve for meat and fee.
2 He had nae been in fair England But yet a little while, Untill the kingis ae daughter To Johney proves wi chil.
3 O word's come to the king himsel, In his chair where he sat, That his ae daughter was wi bairn To Jack, the Little Scott.
4 'Gin this be true that I do hear, As I trust well it be, Ye pit her into prison strong, An starve her till she die.'
5 O Johney's on to fair Scotland, A wot he went wi speed, An he has left the kingis court, A wot good was his need.
6 O it fell once upon a day That Johney he thought lang, An he's gane to the good green wood, As fast as he coud gang.
7 'O whare will I get a bonny boy, To rin my errand soon, That will rin into fair England, An haste him back again?'
8 O up it starts a bonny boy, Gold yallow was his hair, I wish his mither meickle joy, His bonny love mieckle mair.
9 'O here am I, a bonny boy, Will rin your errand soon; I will gang into fair England, An come right soon again.'
10 O whan he came to broken briggs, He bent his bow and swam; An whan he came to the green grass growan, He slaikid his shoone an ran.
11 Whan he came to yon high castèl, He ran it roun about, An there he saw the king's daughter, At the window looking out.
12 'O here's a sark o silk, lady, Your ain han sewd the sleeve; You'r bidden come to fair Scotlan, Speer nane o your parents leave.
13 'Ha, take this sark o silk, lady, Your ain han sewd the gare; You're bidden come to good green wood, Love Johney waits you there.'
14 She's turnd her right and roun about, The tear was in her ee: 'How can I come to my true-love, Except I had wings to flee?
15 'Here am I kept wi bars and bolts, Most grievous to behold; My breast-plate's o the sturdy steel, Instead of the beaten gold.
16 'But tak this purse, my bonny boy, Ye well deserve a fee, An bear this letter to my love, An tell him what you see.'
17 Then quickly ran the bonny boy Again to Scotlan fair, An soon he reachd Pitnachton's towrs, An soon found Johney there.
18 He pat the letter in his han An taul him what he sa, But eer he half the letter read, He loote the tears doun fa.
19 'O I will gae back to fair Englan, Tho death shoud me betide, An I will relieve the damesel That lay last by my side.'
20 Then out it spake his father dear, My son, you are to blame; An gin you'r catchd on English groun, I fear you'll neer win hame.
21 Then out it spake a valiant knight, Johny's best friend was he; I can commaun five hunder men, An I'll his surety be.
22 The firstin town that they came till, They gard the bells be rung; An the nextin town that they came till, They gard the mess be sung.
23 The thirdin town that they came till, They gard the drums beat roun; The king but an his nobles a' Was startld at the soun.
24 Whan they came to the king's palace They rade it roun about, An there they saw the king himsel, At the window looking out.
25 'Is this the Duke o Albany, Or James, the Scottish king? Or are ye some great foreign lord, That's come a visiting?'
26 'I'm nae the Duke of Albany, Nor James, the Scottish king; But I'm a valiant Scottish knight, Pitnachton is my name.'
27 'O if Pitnachton be your name, As I trust well it be, The morn, or I tast meat or drink, You shall be hanged hi.'
28 Then out it spake the valiant knight That came brave Johney wi; Behold five hunder bowmen bold, Will die to set him free.
29 Then out it spake the king again, An a scornfu laugh laugh he; I have an Italian i my house Will fight you three by three.
30 'O grant me a boon,' brave Johney cried; 'Bring your Italian here; Then if he fall beneath my sword, I've won your daughter dear.'
31 Then out it came that Italian, An a gurious ghost was he; Upo the point o Johney's sword This Italian did die.
32 Out has he drawn his lang, lang bran, Struck it across the plain: 'Is there any more o your English dogs That you want to be slain?'
33 'A clark, a clark,' the king then cried, 'To write her tocher free;' 'A priest, a priest,' says Love Johney, 'To marry my love and me.
34 'I'm seeking nane o your gold,' he says, 'Nor of your silver clear; I only seek your daughter fair, Whose love has cost her dear.'
B
Glenriddell MSS, XI, 78: 1791.
1 Johnny's into England gane, Three quarters of a year; Johnny's into England gane, The king's banner to bear.
2 He had na been in England lang, But and a little while, Untill the king's daughter To Johnny gaes wi child.
3 Word is to the kitchin gane, And word is to the ha, And word is to the king's palace, Amang the nobles a'.
4 Word's gane to the king's palace, The palace where she sat, That his ae daughter gaes wi child To Jock, the Little Scot.
5 'If she be wi child,' he says, 'As I trow well she be, I'll put her into strang prison, And hang her till she die.'
6 But up and spak young Johnny, And O he spake in time: Is there never a bony boy here Will rin my errand soon?
7 That will gae to yon castle, And look it round about? And there he'll see a fair lady, The window looking out.
8 Up then spak a bony boy, And a bony boy was he: I'll run thy errand, Johnny, he said, Untill the day I die.
9 'Put on your gown o silk, madam, And on your hand a glove, And gang into the good green-wood, To Johnny, your true-love.'
10 'The fetters they are on my feet, And O but they are cauld! My bracelets they are sturdy steel, Instead of beaten gold.
11 'But I will write a lang letter, And seal it tenderlie, And I will send to my true-love, Before that I do die.'
12 The first look that Johnny lookd, A loud laughter gae he; But the next look that Johnny gae, The tear blinded his ee.
13 He says, I'll into England gae, Whatever may betide, And a' to seek a fair woman That sud hae been my bride.
14 But up and speaks his father, And O he spak in time: If that ye into England gae, I'm feerd ye neer come hame.
15 But up then speaks our gude Scotch king, And a brisk young man was he: He's hae five hunder o my life-guard, To bear him companie.
16 When Johnny was on saddle set, And seemly for to see, There was not a married man Into his companie.
17 When Johnny sat on saddle-seat, And seemly to behold, The hair that hang on Johnny's head Was like the threads o gold.
18 When he cam to ... He gard the bells a' ring, Untill the king and a' his court Did marvel at the thing.
19 'Is this the brave Argyle,' he said, 'That's landed and come hame? Is this the brave Argyle,' he said, 'Or James, our Scottish king?'
20 'It's no the brave Argyle,' they said, 'That's landed and come hame; But it is a brave young Scottish knight, M^cNaughtan is his name.'
21 'If M^cNaughtan be his name,' he says, 'As I trow weel it be, The fairest lady in a' my court Gangs wi child to thee.'
22 'If that she be wi child,' he says, 'As I wat weel she be, I'll mak it lord o a' my land, And her my gay lady.'
23 'I have a champion in my court Will fight you a' by three;' But up then speaks a brisk young man, And a brisk young man was he: I will fight to my life's end, Before poor Johnny die.
24 The king but and his nobles a' Went out into the plain, The queen but and her maidens a', To see young Johnny slain.
25 The first wound that Johnny gae the champion Was a deep wound and sair; The next wound that he gae the champion, He never spak mair.
26 'A priest, a priest,' young Johnny cries, 'To wed me and my love;' 'A clerk, a clerk,' the king he cries, 'To sign her tocher gude.'
27 'I'll hae nane o your goud,' he says, 'I'll hae nane o your gear, But a' I want is my true-love, For I hae bought her dear.'
28 He took out a little goat-horn, And blew baith loud and shill; The victry's into Scotland gane, Tho sair against their will.
C
Motherwell's MS., p. 213: from the recitation of Mrs Thomson, Kilbarchan.
1 O Johnie's to the hunting gone, Unto the woods sae wild, And Earl Percy's old daughter To Johnie goes with child.
2 O word is to the kitchen gone, And word is to the ha, And word is to the highest towers, Amang the nobles a'.
3 'If she be with child,' her father said, 'As woe forbid it be, I'll put her into a prison strong, And try the veritie.'
4 'But if she be with child,' her mother said, 'As woe forbid it be, I'll put her intil a dungeon dark, And hunger her till she die.'
5 Then she has wrote a braid letter, And sealed it wi her hand, And sent it to the merry green wood, Wi her own boy at command.
6 The first line of the letter he read, His heart was full of joy; But he had not read a line past two Till the salt tears blind his eye.
7 'O I must up to England go, What ever me betide, For to relieve that fair ladie That lay last by my side.'
8 Out and spak his father then, And he spak all in time: Johnie, if ye to England go, I fear ye'll neer return.
9 But out and spak his uncle then, And he spak bitterlie: Five hundred of my good life-guards Shall go along with thee.
10 When they were mounted on their steeds, They were comely to behold; The hair that hung owre Johnie's shoulders Was like the yellow gold.
11 The first town that they came to, They made the bells to ring; And when they rode the town all owre, They made the trumpets sound.
12 When they came to Earl Percy's gates, They rode them round about, And who saw he but his own true-love, At a window looking out!
13 'The doors they are bolted with iron and steel, The windows round about; My feet they are in fetters strong; And how can I get out?
14 'My garters they are of the lead, And oh but they be cold! My breast-plate's of the beaten steel, Instead of beaten gold.'
15 But when they came to Earl Percy's yett, They tirled at the pin; None was so ready as Earl Percy To open and let them in.
16 'Art thou the King of Aulsberry, Or art thou the King of Spain? Or art thou one of our gay Scots lords, M^cNachtan by thy name?'
17 'I'm not the King of Aulsberry, Nor yet the King of Spain; But I am one of our gay Scots lords, Johnie Scot I am called by name.'
18 'If Johnie Scot be thy name,' he said, 'As I trow weel it be, The fairest lady in a' our court Gaes big with child to thee.'
19 'If she be with child,' fair Johnie said, 'As I trow weel she be, I'll make it heir owre a' my land, And her my gay ladie.'
20 'But if she be with child,' her father said, 'As I trow weel she be, Tomorrow morn again eight o clock High hanged thou shalt be.'
21 But out and spak his uncle then, And he spak bitterlie: Before that we see Johnie Scot slain, We'll a' fight till we die.
22 'But is there ever a Tailliant about your court, That will fight duels three? Before that I be hanged or slain, On the Tailliant's sword I'll die.'
23 But some is to the good green wood, And some is to the plain, Either to see fair Johnie hanged, Or else to see him slain.
24 And they began at eight o clock of the morning, And they fought on till three, Till the Tailliant, like a swallow swift, Owre Johnie's head did flee.
25 But Johnie being a clever young boy, He wheeled him round about, And on the point of Johnie's broad sword The Tailliant he slew out.
26 'A priest, a priest,' fair Johnie cried, 'To wed my love and me;' 'A clerk, a clerk,' her father cried, 'To sum the tocher free.'
27 'I'll have none of your gold,' fair Johnie said, 'Nor none of your white monie; But I will have my own fair bride, For I vow that I've bought her dear.'
28 He's taen his true-love by the hand, He led her up the plain: 'Have you any more of your English dogs You want for to have slain?'
29 He took a little horn out of his pocket, He blew it baith loud and shill, And honour's into Scotland gone, In spite of England's skill.
D
Motherwell MS., p. 205: #a#, "words and tune from Mrs McNiccol," of Paisley, native of the parish of Houston; #b#, variations from "John Lindsay, cowfeeder, Wallace Street, Paisley."
1 O Johnnie Scot walks up and down Among the woods sae wild; Who but the Earl of Percy's ae daughter To him goes big with child!
2 O word is to the kitchen gone, And word's gone to the hall, And word is to King Henry gane, And amongst his nobles all.
3 O Johnnie's called his waiting-man, His name was Germanie: 'O thou must to fair England go, Bring me that fair ladie.'
4 He rode till he came to Earl Percy's gate, He tirled at the pin; 'O who is there?' said the proud porter, 'But I daurna let thee in.'
5 So he rade up, and he rode down, Till he rode it round about; Then he saw her at a wee window, Where she was looking out.
6 'O thou must go to Johnnie Scot, Unto the woods so green, In token of thy silken shirt, Thine own hand sewed the seam.'
7 'How can I go to Johnnie Scot? Or how can I get out? My breast plate's o the hard, hard iron, With fetters round about.
8 'But I will write a lang letter, And give it unto thee, And thou must take that to Johnnie Scot, See what answer he sends to me.'
9 When Johnnie looked the letter upon A sorry man was he; He had not read one line but two Till the saut tear did blind his ee.
10 'O I must to fair England go, Whatever me betide, All for to fight for that gay ladie That last lay by my side.'
11 O out and spoke his father then, And he spoke well in time: O if you to fair England go, I doubt your coming home.
12 'O no, O no,' said good King James, 'Before such a thing shall be, I'll send five hundred of my life-guards, To bear Johnnie company.'
13 When they were all on saddle set, Most pleasant to behold, The hair that hung over Johnnie's neck Was like the links of gold.
14 When they were all marching away, Most beautiful to see, There was not so much as a married man In Johnnie's company.
15 O Johnnie was the foremost man In the company that did ride; King James he was the second man, Wi his rapier by his side.
16 They rode till they came to Earl Percy's yate, They tirled at the pin: 'O who is there?' said the proud porter; 'But I daurnot let thee in.
17 'Is it the Duke of York,' he said, 'Or James, our Scotish king? Or is it one of the Scotish lords, From hunting new come home?'
18 'It's not the Duke of York,' he said, 'Nor James, our Scotish king; But it is one of the Scotish lords, Earl Hector is my name.'
19 When Johnnie came before the king, He fell low down on his knee: 'O the brawest lady in a' my court With child goes big to thee.'
20 'O if she be with child,' Johnnie said, 'As I trew well she be, I will make it heir of all my land, And her my gay ladie.'
21 'But if she be with child,' said the king, 'As I trew well she be, Before the morn at ten o clock High hanged thou shalt be.'
22 'O no, O no,' said good King James, 'Before such a thing shall be, Before that Johnnie Scot be hanged, We'll a' fight till we die.'
23 'But there is a Talliant in my court, Of men he will fight five; Go bring them out to the green wood, See wha will gain the prize.'
24 Lords and ladies flocked all, They flocked all amain, They flocked all to the green wood, To see poor Johnnie slain.
25 This Talliant he could find no way To be poor Johnnie's dead, But, like unto a swallow swift, He jumped oer Johnnie's head.
26 But Johnnie was a clever man, Cunning and crafty withal, And up on the top of his braid sword He made this Talliant fall.
27 'A priest, a priest,' then Johnnie cried, 'To marry my love and me;' 'A clerk, a clerk,' her father cried, 'To sum the tocher free.'
28 'I'll take none of your gold,' Johnnie said, 'Nor none of your other gear, But I'll just have my own true-love, This day I've won her dear.'
E
Motherwell's MS., p. 113; from the recitation of T. Risk.
1 M^cNaughton's unto England gane, The king's banner to bear: 'O do you see yon castle, boy? It's walled round about; There you will spy a fair ladye, In the window looking out.'
2 'Here is a silken sark, fair lady, Thine own hand sewed the sleeve, And thou must go to yon green wood, To Johnnie thy true-love.'
3 'The castle it is high, my boy, And walled round about; My feet are in the fetters strong, And how can I get out?
4 'My garters o the gude black iron, And they are very cold; My breast plate's of the sturdy steel, Instead of beaten gold.
5 'But had I paper, pen and ink, And candle at my command, It's I would write a lang letter To John in fair Scotland.'
6 The first line that Johnnie looked on, A loud, loud lauch leuch he; The second line that Johnnie looked on, The tear did blind his ee.
7 Says, I must unto England go, Whatever me betide, For to relieve my own fair lady, That lay last by my side.
8 Then up and spoke Johnnie's auld mither, A well spoke woman was she: If you do go to England, Johnnie, I may take farewell o thee.
9 Then up and spoke Johnnie's old father, A well spoke man was he: It's twenty-four of my gay troop Shall go along with thee.
10 When Johnie was on saddle set, Right comely to be seen, There was not so much as a married man In Johnie's companie; There was not so much as a married man, Not a one only but ane.
11 The first gude toun that Johnie came to, He made the bells be rung; The next gude toun that Johnie came to, He made the psalms be sung.
12 The next gude toun that Johnie came to, He made the drums beat round, Till the king and all his merry men A-marvelled at the sound.
13 'Are you the Duke of Mulberry, Or James, our Scotish king? Are you the Duke of Mulberry, From Scotland new come home?'
14 'I'm not the Duke of Mulberry, Nor James, our Scotish king; But I am a true Scotishman, M^cNaughtoun is my name.'
15 'If M^cNaughtoun be your name,' he said, 'As I trew well it be, The fairest lady in a' my court She goes with child to thee.
16 'If M^cNauchton be your name,' he said, 'As I trew well it be, Tomorrow morn by eight o clock O hanged you shall be.'
17 O Johnie had a bonnie little boy, His name was Germany: 'Before that we be all hanged, my sovereign, We'll fight you till we die.'
18 'Say on, say on, my bonnie little boy, It is well spoken of thee, For there is a campioun in my court Shall fight you three by three.'
19 Next morning about eight o'clock The king and his merry men, The queen and all her maidens fair, Came whistling down the green, To see the cruel fight begin, And see poor Johnnie slain.
20 They fought on, and Johnie fought on, Wi swords of tempered steel, Until the drops of red, red blood Ran prinkling down the field.
21 They fought on, and Johnie fought on, They fought so manfullie They left not a man alive in all the king's court, Not a man only but three.
22 'A priest, a priest,' poor Johnie cries, 'To wed my love and me;' 'A clerk, a clerk,' the king did cry, 'To write her portion free.'
23 'I'll have none of your gold,' he says, 'Nor none of your white money, But I will have mine own fair lady, Who has been dear to me.'
24 Johnie put a horn unto his mouth, He blew it wondrous schill; The sound is unto Scotland gane, Sair against all their will.
25 He put his horn to his mouth, He blew it ower again, And aye the sound the horn cried, 'M^cNaughtoun's cure to them!'
F
Motherwell's MS., p. 211; from the recitation of Agnes Laird, Kilbarchan, 21 June, 1825.
1 Word has to the kitchen gane, And word has to the ha, And word has to the king himsell, In the chamber where he sat, That his ae daughter gaes wi bairn To bonnie Johnie Scot.
2 Word has to the kitchen gane, And word has to the ha, And word has to the queen hersell, In the chamber where she sat, That her ae dochter gaes wi bairn To bonnie Johnie Scot.
3 'O if she be wi bairn,' he says, 'As I trew well she be, We'll put her in a prison strang, And try her verity.'
4 'O if she be wi bairn,' she says, 'As I trew weel she be, We'll put her in a dungeon dark, And hunger her till she die.'
5 Now she has written a letter, And sealed it with her hand, And sent it unto Johnie Scot, To come at her command.
6 The first lang line that he looked to, He laughed at the same; The neist lang line that he did read, The tears did blin his een.
7 'Once more to England I must go, May God be my sure guide! And all to see that lady fair That last lay by my side.'
8 Then out bespoke our Scotish king, And he spoke manfullie: I and three thousand of my guards Will bear you companye.
9 They all were mounted on horseback, So gallantly they rode; The hair that hung owre Johnie's shoulders Was like the links of goud.
10 When they came to the king of England's gate, They knocked at the pin; So ready was the king himsell To open and let them in.
11 'Are you the Duke [of York],' he says, 'Or are ye the King of Spain? Or are ye some of the gay Scots boys, From hunting now come hame?'
12 'I am not the Duke of York,' he says, 'Nor yet the King of Spain; But I am one of the gay Scots boys, From hunting just come hame.'
13 'If you are one of the Scots boys, As I trew weel you be, The fairest lady in my hall Gaes big wi child to thee.'
14 'Then if she be wi bairn,' he says, 'As I trew weel she be, I'll make him heir of a' my gear, And her my fair ladye.'
15 'If she be wi bairn,' her father says, 'As I trew weel she be, Before the morn at ten o'clock High hanged thou shall be.'
16 Then out bespake our Scotish king, And he spoke manfullie: Before that Johnie Scott be slain, We'll all fight till we die.
17 'I have a Talliant in my house We'll fight your men by three;' 'Bring out your trooper,' Johnie says, 'For fain I would him see.'
18 Some gade unto the high mountain, Some gade unto the plain, Some at high windows looked out, To see poor Johnie slain.
19 The Talliant he fought on a while, Thinking Johnie would retire, And then he, like a swallow swifte, Owre Johnie's head did flee.
20 But Johnie was a clever man, And turned about with speed, And on the edge of his broadsword He slew the Talliant dead.
21 Then he has brought the lady out, And sat her on a dapple-gray, And being mounted on before, They briskly rode away.
22 Now the honour unto Scotland came, In spite of England's skill; The honour unto Scotland came In spite of England's will.
G
Motherwell's Note-Book, p. 35, Motherwell MS., p. 394; from the singing of Agnes Lyle, of Kilbarchan, 24 August, 1825.
1 Johnie Scott's a hunting gone, To England woods so wild, Until the king's old dochter dear She goes to him with child.
2 'If she be with bairn,' her mother says, 'As I trew weel she be, We'll put her in a dark dungeon, And hunger her till she die.'
3 'If she be with bairn,' her father says, 'As oh forbid she be! We'll put her in a prison strong, And try the veritie.'
4 The king did write a long letter, Sealed it with his own hand, And he sent it to Johnie Scot, To speak at his command.
5 When Johnie read this letter long, The tear blindit his ee: 'I must away to Old England; King Edward writes for me.'
6 Out and spak his mother dear, She spoke aye in time: Son, if thou go to Old England, I fear thou'll neer come hame.
7 Out and spoke a Scotish prince, And a weel spoke man was he: Here's four and twenty o my braw troops, To bear thee companie.
8 Away they gade, awa they rade, Away they rade so slie; There was not a maried man that day In Johnie's companie.
9 The first good town that they passed thro, They made their bells to ring; The next good town that they passed thro, They made their music sing.
10 The next gude town that they passed thro, They made their drums beat round, The king and a' his gay armies Admiring at the sound.
11 When they came to the king's court, They travelled round about, And there he spied his own true-love, At a window looking out.
12 'O fain wald I come down,' she says, 'Of that ye needna dout; But my garters they're of cauld, cauld iron, And I can no win out.
13 'My garters they're of cauld, cauld iron, And it is very cold; My breast-plate is of sturdy steel, Instead o beaten gold.'
14 Out and spoke the king himsell, And an angry man was he: The fairest lady in a' my court, She goes with child to thee.
15 'If your old doughter be with child, As I trew weel she be, I'le make it heir of a' my land, And her my gay lady.'
16 'There is a Talliant in my court, This day he's killed three; And gin the morn by ten o'clock He'll kill thy men and thee.'
17 Johnie took sword into his hand, And walked cross the plain; There was many a weeping lady there, To see young Johnie slain.
18 The Talliant never knowing this, Now he'll be Johnie's dead, But, like unto a swallow swift, He flew out owre his head.
19 Johnie was a valliant man, Weel taught in war was he, And on the point of his broad sword The Talliant stickit he.
20 Johnie took sword into his hand, And walked cross the plain: 'Are there here any more of your English dogs That's wanting to be slain?
21 'A priest, a priest,' young Johnie cries, 'To wed my bride and me;' 'A clerk, a clerk,' her father cries, 'To tell her tocher wi.'
22 'I'm wanting none of your gold,' he says, 'As little of your gear; But give me just mine own true-love, I think I've won her dear.'
23 Johnie sets horn into his mouth, And he blew loud and schrill; The honour it's to Scotland come, Sore against England's will.
H
Kinloch MSS, VI, 53, in an unknown hand.
1 'Where will I gett a bony boy, That would fain win hose and shoon, That will go on to yon palace, Aud haste him back again?'
2 'Here am I, a bony boy, That would fain win hose and shoon, That will go on to yon palace, And haste me back again.'
3 'When you come to yon palace, You'l run it round about; There you'l see a gay lady, At the window looking out.
4 'Give hir this shirt of silk, Hir own hand sewed the slive, And bid her come to good green woods, Spear no hir parents' leave.
5 'Give hir this shirt of silk, boy, Hir own hand sewed the gare; You'l bid her come to good green woods, Love Johny, I'll meet hir there.'
6 When he came to yon palace, He ran it round about, And there he saw a gay lady, At the window looking out.
7 'Take here this shirt of silk, lady, Your own hand sewed the slive; You're biden come to good green woods, Spire no your parents' leave.
8 'Take here this shirt of silk, lady, Your own hand sewed the gare; You're biden come to good green woods, Love Johny'll meet you there.'
9 'The staunchens they are strong, boy, Dear, vow but they are stout! My feet they are in strong fetters, And how shall I win out?
10 'My garters is of the cold iron, Dear, vow but they are cold! And three splits of the sturdy steel, Instead of beaten goold.
11 'But I will write a braud leter, And sign it with my hand, And I will send it to Love Johny, Weel may he understand.'
12 And she has wrote [a] braud leter, And signd it with hir hand, And sent it on to Love Jony, Weel did he understand.
13 When he got this letter, A light laugh did he gie; But or he read it half down through, The salt tears blinded 's ee.
14 Says, I'll awa to fair England, What ever may betide, And all is for the fair lady That lay close by my side.
15 Out it spoke Jony's mother, And she spoke ay through pride; Says, If ye go to fair England, Sir, better to you bide.
16 When Jony was on his sadle set, And seemly to behold, Every tet o Love Jony's hair Was like the threads of goold.
17 When Jony was on his sadle set, And seemly for to see, There was not a maried man In a' Jony's company.
18 The first town that they came till, They gard the bells be rung; The next town that they came till, They gard the mess bee sung.
19 When they came to the king's palace, The drums they did beat round, And the quien and her marys all Amased at the sound.
20 'Is this the Duke of Mulberry, Or James, our Scottish king? Or is it any noble lord That's going a visiting?'
21 'It's not the Duke of Mulberry, Nor James, our Scottish king; But it is Jack, the Little Scot, And Auchney is his name.'
22 'If Auchney bee your name,' he said, 'As I trust weel it be, The fairest lady in all my court She goes with bairn to the.'
23 'If she be with bairn,' he said, 'As I doubt not nor she be, I will make it heir oer all my land, And hir my gay lady.'
24 The king he swore a solemn oath, And a solemn oath swore he, 'The morn, before I eat or drink, High hanged he shall be!'
* * * * * * *
25 The king and his nobles all Went out into the plain, And the quen and hir marys all, To see Love Johny slain.
26 They fought up, and they fought down, With swords of temperd steel, But not a drop of Johny's blood In that day he did spill.
27 Out they brought the Itilian, And a greecy ghost was he, But by the edge o Love Johny's sword That Itilian did die.
28 Johny's taen his neat drawn sword, And stript it to the stran: 'Is there any more of your English dogs That wants for to be slain?'
29 'A clerck, a clerck,' now says the king, 'To sign her tocher free;' 'A priest, a priest,' said Love Johny, 'To mary my dear and me.
30 'I fought not for your goold, your goold, I fought not for your gear, But I fought for my rose Mary, And vow! I've bought hir dear.'
I
Kinloch MSS, VII, 39, 41, 43, 45, 47, 49.
1 Johnie is up to London gane, Three quarters o the year, And he is up to London gane, The king's banner for to bear.
2 He had na been in fair London A twalmonth and a day, Till the king's ae daughter To Johnie gangs wi child.
3 O word is to the kitchen gane, And word is to the ha, And word is to the king himsel Amang his nobles a'.
* * * * * * *
4 She has wrote a braid letter, She has wrote it tenderly, And she's wrote a braid letter, To lat her Johnie see
5 That her bower is very high, It's aw weel walled about; Her feet are in the fetters strang, Her body looking out.
6 Her garters are of cauld iron, And they are very cold; Her breist-plate is o the sturdy steel, Instead o the beaten gold.
7 Whan he lookit the letter on, A licht lauch gaed he; But eer he read it til an end, The tear blindit his ee.
8 'I maun up to London gang, Whatever me betide, And louse that lady out o prison strang; She lay last by my side.'
9 Up spak Johnie's ae best man, That stood by Johnie's knie: Ye'll get twenty four o my best men, To bear ye companie.
10 When Johnie was in his saddle set, A pleasant sicht to see, There was na ae married man In Johnie's companie.
11 The first toun that he cam till, He made the mass be sung; The niest toun that he cam till, He made the bells be rung.
12 When he cam to fair London, He made the drums gae round; The king and his nobles aw They marvelld at the sound.
13 'Is this the Duke of Winesberry, Or James, the Scotish king? Or is it a young gentleman, That wants for to be in?'
14 'It's na the Duke of Winesberry, Nor James, the Scotish king; But it is a young gentleman, Buneftan is his name.'
15 Up spak the king himsel, An angry man was he: The morn eer I eat or drink Hie hangit sall he be.
16 Up spak Johnie's ae best man, That stood by Johnie's knie: Afore our master he be slain We'll aw fecht till we die.
17 Up spak the king himsel, And up spak he: I have an Italian in my court That will fecht ye manifullie.
18 'If ye hae an Italian in your court, Fu fain wad I him see; If ye hae an Italian in your court, Ye may bring him here to me.'
19 The king and his nobles aw Went tripping doun the plain, Wi the queen and her maries aw, To see fair Johnie slain.
20 Even anent the prison-door The battle did begin; . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
21 They foucht up, and they foucht doun, Wi swerds o tempered steel, Til Johnie wi his gude braidswerd Made the Italian for to yield.
22 He has kickd him with his foot, And he has kickd him oure the plain; 'Onie mair Italians in your court Ye want for to be slain?'
23 'A clerk, a clerk,' the king cried, 'To sign her tocher-fee;' 'A priest, a priest,' young Johnie said, 'To marry her and me.
24 For I want nane o your gowd, Nor nane o your weel won fee; I only want your fair dochter, I have won her mannfullie.'
J
Kinloch MSS, VII, 40, 42, 46, 49.
1 O word is to the queen hersel, In parlour whare she sat, That the king's dochter goes wi child To Jock, that little Scot.
2 O word is to the king himsel, And an angry man was he; Says, I will put her in cold prison, And hunger her till she dee.
3 The ladie was laid in cold prison, By the king, a grievous man; And up and starts a little boy, Upon her window-stane.
4 Says, Here's a silken shift, ladye, Your ane hand sewed the sleeve, And ye maun gang to yon greenwud, And of your freends speir na leave.
5 'My bouer is very hie,' said the lady, 'And it's wondrous hie round about; My feet are lockit in the iron fetters, And how can I get out?
6 'But I will write a braid letter, And seal it tenderlie, And send it to yon greenwud, And let young Johnie see.'
7 O Johnie's to his father gane, And til him did say, O I maun up to London, father, And fecht for that lady gay.
8 His father spak but ae word, Says, I speak it in time; For an ye gang to London, Johnie, I fear your coming hame.
9 And out and spak anither youth, And a pretty youth was he: Afore I see young Johnie dung I'll fecht for him till I dee.
* * * * * * *
10 He has wallowd it, he has wallowd it, He's wallowd it again; Cries, Onie mae o your English dogs That wants for to be slain?
11 He set the horn until his mouth, And he has blawn baith loud and shill; The victor's doun to Scotland gane, Richt sair against their will.
K
Kinloch MSS, I, 311.
1 Johnie's up to England gane, Three quarters o a year; Johnie's up to England gane, The king's banner to bear.
2 He had not in fair England been A month 'twas barely ane, When the fairest lady o the court To Johnie wi child is gane.
3 Word is to the kitchen gane, And word's gane to the ha; Word's gane to the high, high rooms, Among the nobles a'.
4 And word o't to the king is gane, In the chamber where he sat, His only daughter goes wi child To Johnie, the Little Scot.
5 'O if she be wi child,' he says, 'As I trow weel she be, I'll lock her up in strong prison, And punish her till she dee.'
6 Then she has wrote a long letter, And seald it without a blot, And she has sent it to fair Scotland, To Johnie, the Little Scot.
7 The first line that he did read, In laughter loud was he; But or he gat the hindmost read The tear blindit his ee.
8 'Get ready for me the black, black steed, Get ready for me the brown, And saddle to me the swiftest horse Eer carried man to town.'
9 Whan he cam to Edinburgh town, He made the bells to ring, And when he cam to merry Carlisle, He made the monks to sing.
10 When he cam to the king's gates, He made his drums beat round; The king bot and his nobles a' They wonderd at the sound.
11 'Is this [the] King of France,' he cried, 'Or is't the King of Spain? Or is it Johnie, the Little Scot, That's wanting to be slain?'
12 'It's neither the King of France,' he said, 'Nor is't the King of Spain; But it is Johnie, the Little Scot, That's come to claim his ain.'
* * * * * * *
13 They foucht it ance, they foucht it twice, They foucht it oure again, Till draps o blood, like draps o rain, War rinning to the plain.
14 Then Johnie drew a nut-brown brand, And strook it oure the plain, Saying, Are there onie mae o your Englishmen That's wanting to be slain?
15 'A clerk, a clerk,' the king he cried, 'To sign her tocher-fee;' 'A priest, a priest,' then Johnie cried, 'To marry my love and me.
16 'I'll hae nane o your gowd,' he says, 'As little o your gear; But I'll hae her, my ain true-love, For I'm sure I've coft her dear.'
L
Campbell MSS, I, 57.
1 Johnnie Scott's a hunting gane, To England's woods sae wild; The fairest flower of all England To Johnnie provd big with child.
2 It's word's going up, and word's going down, Going to the king's bower, That his dear daughter was with child, That was his daily flower.
3 'If she be with child, As I suppose she be, I'll put her into prison strong, And hunger her till she die.'
4 The king he wrote a letter broad, And sealed it with his hands, And sent it down to Johnnie Scott, In Scotland where he stands.
5 The first line that Johnnie lookd on, A merry man was he; The next line that he lookd on, The salt tears blinded his eye.
6 Out then spoke his old father, Who neer spoke out of time: And if you go to England, son, I doubt your coming home.
7 Out then spoke our Scottish James, Sitting low by Johnnie's knee: Fifteen score of my life-guards Shall ride in your company.
8 When Johnnie came to the king's court He rode it round about, And there he spied his own true-love, From the jail-window looking out.
9 'Come down, true-love,' said Johnnie Scott, 'And now you'll ride behind me; Before I leave fair England Some life shall die for thee.'
10 'My feet are in the fetters strong, I'm belted round about; My breastplate is of the stubborn steel, Instead of beaten gold.'
11 When Johnnie came to the king's bower He tinkled at the ring; Who was so ready as the king himself To let proud Johnnie in!
12 'Are ye the Duke of Marlborough,' he said, 'Or James, our Scottish king? Or are you my bastard son, From Scotland new come home?'
13 'I'm not the Duke of Marlborough,' he said, 'Nor James, our Scottish king; But I am just a good Scotch lad, And Johnnie Scott's my name.'
14 'If you be Johnnie Scott,' says he, 'As I suppose you be, The fairest flower in all England Is big with child by thee.'
15 'If she be big with child,' said he, 'As I hope her to be, I'll make it heir of all my lands, And she my gay lady.'
16 'O no,' then the king he crys, 'There's no such thing will be; There is an Italian in my court, And by his hands ye'll die.'
17 'I'll stand my ground,' says Johnnie Scott, 'I'll stand it till I die; I'll stand my ground,' says Johnnie Scott, 'One foot I'd scorn to fly.'
18 When the Italian was brought out, A fearsome sight was he; Between his brows three women's spang, His shoulders was yards three.
19 As Johnnie, being a crafty lad, Well tried at the sword was he, Upon the point of his broad sword He made the Italian die.
M
Campbell MSS, II, 335.
1 Lord Johnnie's up to England gane, Three quarters of an year; Lord Johnnie's up to England gone, The king's banner to bear.
2 He had not been in fair England, Three quarters he was not, Till the king's eldest daughter Goes with child to Lord Johnnie Scott.
3 Word has to the kitchen gone, And word's gone to the hall, And word's gone to the high, high room, Among the nobles all.
4 And word has gaen to the king himsel, In his chamber where he sat, That his eldest daughter goes wi child To good Lord Johnnie Scott.
5 'Gin that be true,' the king replied, 'As I suppose it be, I'll put her in a prison strong, And starve her till she die.'
* * * * * * *
6 'O where will I get a little page, That will win baith hose and shoon, And run into fair Scotland, And tell my love to come?'
* * * * * * *
7 'What news, what news, my little page? What news hae ye brought to me?' 'Bad news, bad news, my master dear, The king's daughter maun die.
8 'Here is a shirt, O master dear, Her ain hand sewd the sleeve; She bad me run and tell ye this, And ask nae person's leave.
9 'They have her in a prison strong, And in a dungeon deep; Her feet are in the fetters strong, And they've left her to weep.
10 'Her feet are in the cold, cold iron, Instead of beaten gold; Her garters are of the cauld, cauld iron, And O but they are cold!'
* * * * * * *
11 'A clerk, a clerk,' the king did cry, 'To cry the toucher-fee;' 'A priest, a priest,' Lord Johnnie cry'd, 'To join my love and me.
12 'I want none of your gold,' he said, 'Nor as little want I a fee; But I do want your daughter dear, My wedded wife to be.'
N
Buchan's Gleanings, p. 122.
1 Lord John he's on to England gone, To England gone is he; Love John he's on to England gone, The king's banneret to be.
2 He hadna been in fair England O but a little while, Till faen in love wi the king's daughter, And to him she's with chile.
3 Now word is to the kitchen gane, And word is to the ha, And word is to the king's high court, And that was warst of a'.
4 Out then spake the king himsell, An angry man was he: I'll put her into prison strong, And starve her till she die.
5 Love John he's on to Scotland gone, I wat he's on wi speed; Love John he's on to Scotland gone, And as good was his need.
6 He hadna been in fair Scotland But a very short tide, Till he minded on the damsel That lay last by his side.
7 'Whare will I get a bonny boy, Will win baith meat and fee, That will run on to fair England, And haste him back to me?'
8 'O here am I, a bonny boy, Will win baith meat and fee, That will run on to fair England, And haste him back to thee.'
9 'Where ye find the grass grow green, Ye'll slack your shoes and rin; And when ye find the brigs broken, Ye'll bend your bow and swim.
10 'And when ye come to the king's high court, Ye'll rin it round about, And there ye'll see a lady gay, At a window looking out.
11 'Bid her take this shirt of silk, Her ain hand sewed the sleeve; Bid her come to good green-wood, At her parents spier nae leave.
12 'Bid her take this shirt of silk, Her ain hand sewed the gair; Bid her come to good green-wood, Love John he waits her there.'
13 Where he found the grass grow green, He slackd his shoes and ran; Where he fan the brigs broken, He bent his bow and swam.
14 When he came to the king's high court, He ran it round about; And there he saw the lady gay, At the window looking out.
15 'Ye're bidden take this shirt of silk, Yere ain hand sewed the sleeve; Ye're bidden come to good green-wood, At your parents spier nae leave.
16 'Ye're bidden take this shirt of silk, Yere ain hand sewed the gair; Ye're bidden come to good green-wood, Love John he waits you there.'
17 'My feet are in the fetters strong, Instead of silken sheen; My breast-plate's of the cold iron, Instead of gold so fine.
18 'But I will write a broad letter, And seal it with my hand, And send it off to my Love Johnny, And let him understand.'
19 The first line that he looked on, A loud laughter laught he; But ere he read it to the end, The tear blinded his ee.
20 'O I will on to fair England, Whatever me betide, For to relieve the damsel That lay last by my side.'
21 Out it spake his father dear, A noble lord was he: If ye gang to England, Johnny, Ye'll neer come back to me.
22 Out it spake a noble lord, A noble lord, I wat, was he: Fifteen of our Scottish lords Will bear his honour companie.
23 The first town that they eer came till, They gart the bells be rung; The next town that they came till, They gart the mass be sung.
24 And when they came to the king's court, They gart the trumpet soun, Till the king and all his merry young men Did marvel at the tune.
25 'Is this the Duke of Marlborough, Or James, the Scottish king? Or is it else some Scottish lord, Come here a visiting?'
26 'It's not the Duke of Marlborough, Nor James, the Scottish king: It is Love John of fair Scotland, Come here a visiting.'
27 'If this be John of fair Scotland, He's dearly welcome to me; The morn ere he eat or drink, High hanged he shall be.'
28 He's taen his broadsword in his hand, And stripd it oer a stane; Then thro and thro the king's high court With broadsword now is gane.
29 They fought it up, they fought it down, Till they were weary men, When the blood, like drops of rain, Came trickling down the plain.
30 Out it spake the king himsel, Ane angry man was he: I have ane Italian within my court Will fight ye three and three.
31 Out it came that ae Italian, As pale as death was he, And on the point of Johnny's sword That ae Italian did die.
32 'A clerk, a clerk,' the king he cried, 'And seal her tocher wi;' 'A priest, a priest,' Lord John he cried, 'That we may married be.
33 'For I want neither gold,' he said, 'Nor do I want your gear; But I do want my ain true-love, For I have bought her dear.'
O
Communicated by Mr William Macmath, of Edinburgh, from his aunt, Miss Jane Webster, formerly of Airds of Kells, now (December, 1882) of Dalry, Kirkcudbrightshire, who learned it from the late Miss Jane Hannay, Newton Stewart.
* * * * * * *
1 Out then spak his auld faither, And a blythe auld man was he, Saying, I'll send five hunner o my brisk young men, To bear Johnie companie.
2 And when they were on saddle set, They were a pleasant sight for to see, For there was na ae married man In a' Johnie's companie.
3 And when they were on saddle set, They were a pleasant sight to behold, For the hair that hung down Johnie's back Was like the links of gold.
4 And when they came to Newcastle, They reined their horses about; Wha did he see but his ain Jeanie, At a window looking out!
5 'Come doun, come doun, Jeanie,' he says, 'Come doun, come doun to me;' 'I canna come doun, Johnie,' she says, 'For King Edward has bolted me.
6 'My stockings are o the heavy iron, I feel them very cold; And my breast-plate's o the sturdy steel, Instead of beaten gold.'
* * * * * * *
7 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 'I'll make it heir o a' my lands, And her my gay lady.'
8 'There is an Italian in this court; This day he has slain knights three; And before tomorrow at eight o'clock The Italian will slay thee.'
P
Motherwell's Note-Book, p. 11.
1 Johnie's up to England gone, Three quarters of a year; Johnie's up to England gone, The king's banner to bear.
2 He hadna been in fair England A month but only three, The king he had but one dochter, And she fell in love with he.
3 And word is up, and word is down, And word is to the ha, And word is to the king's court gane, Amang the nobles a'.
4 Now word is to the king himsell, On throne where he did sit, That his ae dochter goes wi child To John that little Scot.
* * * * *
#A.#
_Written in stanzas of two long lines in the Jamieson MS._
4^2, 27^2. MS. will?
8^3. I wist.
15^3. plates.
_The first stanza is given thus by Anderson in Nichols's Illustrations:_
Johnie was as brave a knight As ever sailed the sea, And he is to the English court, To serve for meat and fee.
_The Abbotsford copy omits stanzas 4, 9, 34. Most of the many changes are, beyond doubt, arbitrary, but the following are more or less countenanced by other versions._
1^{3, 4}. And he is up to fair England, The king's braid banner to bear.
_Cf._ #B#, #E#, #I#, #K#, #M#, #N#, #P#.
19^4. That should have been my bride. _Cf._ #B# 10.
30. Out then cam that Italian knight, A grisly sight to see; Between his een there was a span, Between his shoulders three and three.
And forth then came brave John the Scot, He scarcely reachd his knee; Yet on the point of Johny's brand The Italian knight did die.
_Cf._ #L# 18.
#B.#
_Written in stanzas of two lines._
16^3. And there.
#C.#
3^2. forgid.
14^3. plates.
16^4. be thy.
23^3. Johnie slain.
24^4. Johnie's dread.
26^4. free _changed in MS. to_ fee. _Cf._ #A# 33^2, #D# 27^4, #E# 22^4, #H# 29^2; fee, #I# 23^2, #K# 15^2, #M# 11^2.
#D. a.#
_The last two lines of each stanza are repeated in singing._
8^4. _Originally_ to thee.
25^2. dead _changed to_ deid.
#b.#
_Title_, Lord Johnnie Scot.
_The variations are generally written above the readings of #a#, or otherwise distinctly indicated._
1^1. It's Johnnie.
1^3. And who.
3^3. It's thou.
3^4. gay ladie.
4^1. rode till her father's gate.
5^1. It's he.
6^1. to the green woods.
6^2. To Johnnie Scot thy luve.
6^4. the sleeve.
7^1. to the green woods.
10^3. ladie gay.
11^1. out then... father dear.
11^2. spoke out.
11^3. If thou unto.
11^4. doubt thy.
12^1. Out then spoke our.
12^2. And he spoke manfullie.
13, 14. _These stanzas are often transposed._
13^4. the yellow gold.
14^2. Most pleasant for to.
18^1. I'm not.
18^2. James your.
18^3. But I'm.
20^1. he said.
21^1. he said.
22^1. Out then spoke our.
23^4. the day.
24^1. all did flock.
24^2. In coaches all amain.
24^3. all did flock.
25^4. oer his head.
26^3. on the point.
_The reciter_ had heard another ballad which detailed the same events, and but little differing in any respect, which went under the name of 'M^cNaughton's Valour,' or, 'Naughton's Valour.'
#E.#
13^4. _Originally_ now come, _altered to_ new come.
17^2. _Var._ And a well spoke boy was he.
18^3. _Var._ champion.
19^3. _Originally written_ Likewise the queen and her maidens fair.
20^4. trinkling down? _Motherwell._
25^4. _Var._ M^cNaughton and his men! "M^cNaughtoun's cure to ye!" is Devil relieve ye! _Motherwell._
#F.#
3^1, 4^1. Oh.
#G.#
8^2. the rade.
8^3. Theyre.
_The second copy has these few differences, attributable to Motherwell:_
1^2. England's.
2^1, 3^1. said.
7^4. bear him.
23^1. set unto.
23^2. schill.
23^3. Scotland gone.
#H.#
8^4. Johny I'll
19^2. They drums.
20^1. muberry.
26^3. Johny.
27^3. But but.
26, 27 _should, perhaps, be transposed; but compare_ #N# 29-31.
#I.#
2^2. _Kinloch corrects_ day _to_ while.
_After 3._ A verse a-wanting. It is about the king putting his daughter in prison.
#K.#
14^2. shook: _cf._ #A# 32^2.
#L.#
3^4. dies (?).
17^3. say.
#P.#
2^4. _Var._ goes with child to: _perhaps a change of Motherwell's_.
[164] Pointed out to Motherwell by Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe.
[165] "Les Aubrays est le nom d'une seigneurie du pays de Retz, apportée en mariage, en 1455, à Rolland de Lannion, par Guyonne de Grezy, dame des Aubrays. La ballade ne peut pas, par conséquent, être antérieure à cette époque, et nous la croyons bien plus moderne." M. Pol de Courcy, Luzel, I, 306. The ballad can be no older, unless the Seigneur Les Aubrays has displaced an earlier hero; but what means have we of deciding that question?
100
WILLIE O WINSBURY
#A.# 'Willie o Winsbury,' Campbell MSS, II, 38.
#B.# Herd's MSS, I, 29; II, 98.
#C.# 'Lord Thomas of Winsbury,' Kinloch MSS, I, 315.
#D.# Percy Papers, communicated by the Rev. P. Parsons, about 1775.
#E.# 'Johnnie Barbour,' Notes and Queries, Fifth Series, VII, 387.
#F.# 'Willie of Winsberye,' Motherwell's MS., p. 404.
#G.# 'Lord Thomas o Winsbury,' Buchan's MSS, II, 174; 'Lord Thomas of Winesberry and the King's Daughter,' Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 212.
#H.# 'Lord Thomas of Winesberrie,' Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 92.
#I.# 'Lord Thomas of Winsberry,' #a#, #b#, stall copies; #c#, Buchan's Gleanings, p. 127.
The main points of the story of this ballad are the same in all the copies. The king of Scotland, #C#, #F#, of France, #H#, #I#, has been away from home a considerable time, in Spain, #A#, #C#, #F#, #G#, a prisoner, #A#, #F#, a-hunting, #C#, #H#, #I#, and during his absence his daughter has become with child by William or Thomas of Winsbury. The father threatens to hang the young man, but on seeing him is so struck with his beauty that he exonerates his daughter, and offers her in marriage to her lover, with a large dowry. Winsbury accepts the lady, but declines gold and land, having enough of his own. In #H# he says he shall be king when he goes back to Scotland; in the other copies he appears to be only a man of very good estate.
From the hero turning out to be a royal person from Scotland, in #H#, Kinloch, Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 89, is led to imagine that the ballad may relate to James V of Scotland, who married a daughter of Francis I. His reasons are, first, that James _disguised himself_ when he went to inspect the Duke of Vendôme's daughter (to whom he was in a way betrothed), so as not to be known to her or to her parents. Secondly, that when James, not fancying this lady, passed on, it was at a _hunting_-party that he met the French princess, who became so enamored of him that she would have no other husband. That the poor princess had long been sick, and "was not able to travel out of the realm to no other countrie" (on a milk-white steed, #C# 13), and that she died about six months after her marriage, does not come into the ballad.[166] Buchan thinks Winsbury's rank to be fixed by his version, #G#, as that of a chamberlain, and therefore cannot admit the plausibility of a disguised James V.
The two English copies, #D#, #E#, both imperfect, change the hero's name to Johnnie Barbary ('lately come from Spain,' cf. #B# 5) or Johnnie Barbour. Motherwell, in a manuscript annotation to Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, mentions that he had obtained from recitation a copy in which the name was Sweet Willie of Salisbury. The change from a king to a lady neat and trim in #D# 1 is a corruption that one would have hardly looked for "from the spinning-wheel."
The stanza which notes the reluctance of the young man to come at call, #C# 9, #D# 6, #F# 12, occurs in all copies of 'The Knight and Shepherd's Daughter.'
A
Campbell MSS, II, 38.
1 The king he hath been a prisoner, A prisoner lang in Spain, O And Willie o the Winsbury Has lain lang wi his daughter at hame. O
2 'What aileth thee, my daughter Janet, Ye look so pale and wan? Have ye had any sore sickness, Or have ye been lying wi a man? Or is it for me, your father dear, And biding sae lang in Spain?'
3 'I have not had any sore sickness, Nor yet been lying wi a man; But it is for you, my father dear, In biding sae lang in Spain.'
4 'Cast ye off your berry-brown gown, Stand straight upon the stone, That I may ken ye by yere shape, Whether ye be a maiden or none.'
5 She's coosten off her berry-brown gown, Stooden straight upo yon stone; Her apron was short, and her haunches were round, Her face it was pale and wan.
6 'Is it to a man o might, Janet? Or is it to a man of fame? Or is it to any of the rank robbers That's lately come out o Spain?'
7 'It is not to a man of might,' she said, 'Nor is it to a man of fame; But it is to William of Winsburry; I could lye nae langer my lane.'
8 The king's called on his merry men all, By thirty and by three: 'Go fetch me William of Winsburry, For hanged he shall be.'
9 But when he cam the king before, He was clad o the red silk; His hair was like to threeds o gold, And his skin was as white as milk.
10 'It is nae wonder,' said the king, 'That my daughter's love ye did win; Had I been a woman, as I am a man, My bedfellow ye should hae been.
11 'Will ye marry my daughter Janet, By the truth of thy right hand? I'll gie ye gold, I'll gie ye money, And I'll gie ye an earldom o land.'
12 'Yes, I'll marry yere daughter Janet, By the truth of my right hand; But I'll hae nane o yer gold, I'll hae nane o yer money, Nor I winna hae an earldom o land.
13 'For I hae eighteen corn-mills, Runs all in water clear, And there's as much corn in each o them As they can grind in a year.'
B
Herd's MSS, I, 29; II, 98.
* * * * * * *
1 'What aileth ye, my dochter Dysmill, Ye look sae pale and wan? Hae ye had ony sair sickness, Or ill luve wi a man?
2 'Cast aff, cast aff your bony brown goun, And lay't down on the stane, And I sall tell ye ay or no Ye hae layn wi a man.'
3 She has taen aff her bony brown gown, She has laid it on the stane; Her waist was big, her side was round, Her fair colour was gane.
4 'Now is it to a man of micht, Or to a man of mean? Or is it to the ranke robber That robs upon the main?'
5 'O it's nor to a man of micht, Nor to a man of mean; But it's to Willie Winchberrie, That came frae France and Spain.'
6 The king he's turnd him round about, An angry man was he: 'Gar bring to me your fals leman, Wha sall high hanged be.'
7 Then Dysmill turnd her round about, The tear blinded her ee: 'Gin ye begin to hang, father, Ye maun begin wi mee.'
8 When Willie he cam to the king, His coat was o the silk; His hair was like the thread o gowd, His skin white as the milk.
9 'Ne wonder, ne wonder,' quoth the king, 'My dochter shoud like ye; Gin ye were a woman, as ye're a man, My bedfellow ye sould be.
10 'Now will ye marry my dochter Dysmill, By the truth o your right hand? Now will ye marry my dochter Dysmill, And be a lord o the land?'
C
Kinloch MSS, I, 315.
1 The king has been long seven years away, Long seven years away frae hame; Our king has been long seven years away, A hunting oer in Spain.
* * * * * * *
2 'What aileth thee, my ae daughter, Thou lookst so pale and wan? Hast thou had any sore sickness, Or hast thou loved man?'
3 'I have not had any sore sickness, To make me look sae wan; But it is for your own majestie, You staid sae lang in Spain.'
4 'Cast aff, cast aff thy silken gown, And lay it on yon stane, And I'll tell to thee if with child you be, Or if ye be with nane.'
5 She's casten aff her costly gown, That's made o the silk sae fine; Her stays were sae strait she could na loot, And her fair colour was wan.
6 'Oh is it to any mighty man? Or any lord of fame? Or is it to the rank robbers That I sent out o Spain?'
7 'It is no to the rank robbers That you sent out o Spain; But it is to Thomas of Winsbury, For I dought na lie my lane.'
8 'If it be to Lord Thomas,' he says, 'It's hanged shall he be:' 'If you hang Thomas of Winsbury, You'll get na mair gude o me.'
9 The king's called up his merry men all, By one, by two, and three; Lord Thomas should hae been the foremost man, But the hindmost man was he.
10 'No wonder, no wonder,' the king he said, 'My daughter loved thee; For wert thou a woman, as thou art a man, My bedfellow thou shouldst be.
11 'O will you marry my daughter dear, By the faith of thy right hand? And thou shalt reign, when I am dead, The king over my whole land.'
12 'I will marry your daughter dear, With my heart, yea and my hand; But it never shall be that Lord Winsbury Shall rule oer fair Scotland.'
13 He's mounted her on a milk-white steed, Himself on a dapple-grey, And made her a lady of as much land She could ride in a whole summer day.
D
Communicated to Percy by the Rev. P. Parsons, of Wey, apparently in 1775. "This I had from the spinning-wheel."
1 There was a lady fine and gay, She was so neat and trim; She went unto her own garden-wall, To see her own ships come in.
2 And there she spied her daughter Jane, Who lookd so pale and wan: 'What, have you had some long sickness, Or lain with some young man?'
3 'No, I have had no long sickness, Nor lain with no young man:' Her petticoats they were so short, She was full nine months gone.
4 'Oh is it by some nobleman? Or by some man of fame? Or is it by Johnny Barbary, That's lately come from Spain?'
5 'No, it is by no nobleman, Nor by no man of fame; But it is by Johnny Barbary, That's lately come from Spain.'
6 Then she calld down her merry men, By one, by two, by three; Johnny Barbary used to be the first, But now the last came he.
7 'Oh will you take my daughter Jane, And wed her out of hand? And you shall dine and sup with me, And be heir of my land.'
8 'Yes, I will take your daughter Jane, And wed her out of hand; And I will dine and sup with you, But I do not want your land.'
9 Then she calld down her merry men, With a shrill and a pleasant voice: 'Come, let us all now mery be, Since she has made such a happy choice.'
E
Notes and Queries, Fifth Series, VII, 387, 1877: communicated by B. Montgomerie Ranking, as "heard sung years ago by a West Country fisherman."
* * * * * * *
1 'Oh daughter, oh daughter,' her father he said, 'What makes you look so pale? . . . . . . . Or are you in love with any man?'
2 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 'But if it be one of my own sailor lads, High hanged he shall be.'
3 Johnnie Barbour he cam doun the stair, His shirt was of the silk; His two bonnie black een were rolling in his head, And his skin was as white as milk.
4 'Oh are you ready to marry my daughter, And take her by the hand, And to eat and drink with me at the table, And be heir of all my land?'
5 'Oh it's I am ready to marry your daughter, And take her by the hand, And to eat and drink with her at the table, And to fight for all your land.'
F
Motherwell's MS., p. 404; from the recitation of Agnes Laird, of Kilbarchan, August 24, 1825.
1 Our king hath been a poor prisoner, And a poor prisoner in Spain; O When seven long years was past and gone, Our Scotish king came hame. O
2 As he was riding along the way, He met with his dear dochter: 'What ails thee, what ails thee, my dochter dear, Thou looks so pale and wan?
3 'Have ye had any sore sickness, Or have ye lovd a man? Or is it for me, my dochter dear, I have been so long in Spain?'
4 'I have had no sore sickness, Nor yet have I loved a man; But it is for you, my father dear, Thou've been so long in Spain.'
5 'Cast aff, cast aff thy brown silk gown, And spread it on yonder stone, And I will tell you by and by Whether thou art a maid or none.'
6 She's coosten off her brown silk gown, And spread it on yonder stone, And her belly was big, and her face pale and wan, And she was about half gone.
7 'Is it to a man o micht? Or to a man of fame? Or is it to one of the rank rebels That I sent out of Spain?'
8 'It is not to a man of micht, Nor to a man of fame, Nor yet to one of the rank rebels That ye sent out o Spain; But it is to Willie o Winsberry, Thy very own serving-man.'
9 'If it be to Willie o Winsberry, As I trew well it be, Gin the morn at ten o the clock It's hanged shall he be.'
10 As the king was riding up the gate He met Willie clothed in scarlet red, And his hair was as yellow as the beam, beam gold, And his breast as white as milk.
11 'No wonder, no wonder,' quo the king, 'My dochter luvit thee; For if thou was a woman, as thou'rt a man, My bedfellow thou should be.'
12 The king called down his merry men all, By one, by two, and by three; Sweet Willie should ha been the foremost man, But the hindmost man drew he.
13 'Will you take my dochter Jean, By the faith of her richt hand? And you shall sup and dine with me, And heir the third part of my land.'
14 'I will take your dochter Jean, By the faith of her richt hand, And I will sup and dine with you, But a fig for all your land; For I've as much land in Winsberry As we'll ride in a long summer's day.'
G
Buchan's MSS, II, 174; Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 212.
1 Seven years the king he staid Into the land of Spain, And seven years True Thomas was His daughter's chamberlain.
2 But it fell ance upon a day The king he did come home; She baked and she benjed ben, And did him there welcome.
3 'What aileth you, my daughter Janet, You look sae pale and wan? There is a dreder in your heart, Or else you love a man.'
4 'There is no dreder in my heart, Nor do I love a man; But it is for your lang byding Into the land of Spain.'
5 'Ye'll cast aff your bonny brown gown, And lay it on a stone, And I'll tell you, my jelly Janet, If ever ye lovd a man.'
6 She's cast aff her bonny brown gown, And laid it on a stone; Her belly was big, her twa sides high, Her colour it was quite gane.
7 'Is it to a man o the might, Janet, Or is it till a man o the main? Or is it to one o my poor soldiers, That I brought hame frae Spain?'
8 'It's not till a man o the might,' she says, 'Nor yet to a man o the main; But it's to Thomas o Winsbury, That cannot longer len.'
9 'O where are all my wall-wight men, That I pay meat and fee, That will go for him True Thomas, And bring him in to me? For the morn, ere I eat or drink, High hanged shall he be.'
10 She's turnd her right and round about, The tear blinded her ee: 'If ye do any ill to True Thomas, Ye's never get gude o me.'
11 When Thomas came before the king He glanced like the fire; His hair was like the threads o gold, His eyes like crystal clear.
12 '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.
13 'O will ye marry my daughter Janet? The truth's in your right hand; Ye's hae some o my gold, and some o my gear, And the twalt part o my land.'
14 'It's I will marry your daughter Janet; The truth's in my right hand; I'll hae nane o your gold, nor nane o your gear, I've enough in my own land.
15 'But I will marry your daughter Janet With thirty ploughs and three, And four and twenty bonny breast-mills, And a' on the water o Dee.'
H
Kinloch's Scottish Ballads, p. 92.
1 It fell upon a time, when the proud king of France Went a hunting for five months and more, That his dochter fell in love with Thomas of Winesberrie, From Scotland newly come oer.
2 Whan her father cam hame frae hunting the deer, And his dochter before him cam, Her belly it was big, and her twa sides round, And her fair colour was wan.
3 'What ails thee, what ails thee, my dochter Janet? What maks thee to look sae wan? Ye've either been sick, and very, very sick, Or else ye hae lain wi a man.'
4 'Ye're welcome, ye're welcome, dear father,' she says, 'Ye're welcome hame to your ain, For I hae been sick, and very, very sick, Thinking lang for your coming hame.
5 'O pardon, O pardon, dear father,' she says, 'A pardon ye'll grant me:' 'Na pardon, na pardon, my dochter,' he says, 'Na pardon I'll grant thee.
6 'O is it to a man of micht, Or to a man of mean? Or is it to onie of thae rank robbers That I sent hame frae Spain?'
7 'It is not to a man of micht, Nor to a man of mean; But it is to Thomas o Winesberrie, And for him I suffer pain.'
8 'If it be to Thomas o' Winesberrie, As I trust well it be, Before I either eat or drink, Hie hangit sall he be.'
9 When this bonnie boy was brought afore the king, His claithing was o the silk, His fine yellow hair hang dangling doun, And his skin was like the milk.
10 'Na wonder, na wonder, Lord Thomas,' he says, 'My dochter fell in love wi thee, For if I war a woman, as I am a man, My bed-fellow ye shoud be.
11 'Then will ye marry my dochter Janet, To be heir to a' my land? O will ye marry my dochter Janet, Wi the truth o your richt hand?'
12 'I will marry your dochter Janet, Wi the truth o my richt hand; I'll hae nane o your gowd, nor yet o your gear, I've eneuch in fair Scotland.
13 'But I will marry your dochter Janet, I care na for your land, For she's be a queen, and I a king, Whan we come to fair Scotland.'
I
#a.# A stall copy printed by M. Randall, Stirling, #b.# A stall copy by C. Randall, Stirling. #c.# Buchan's Gleanings, p. 127.
1 It fell upon a time that the proud king of France Went a hunting for five months and more; His daughter fell in love with Lord Winsberry, Who from Scotland was newly come oer.
2 'You're welcome, welcome, dear father,' she said, 'You're welcome again to your own; For I have been sick, and very, very sick, Thinking long for your coming home.'
3 'Put off, put off your gown of green,' he says, 'And spread it on yonder green, And tell them from me that in mourning you are, Or that ye have lain with a man.'
4 She's put off her gown of green, And spread it on the strand; Her haunches were round, and her belly was big, From her face the colour is gone.
5 'O is it to a man of might,' he says, 'Or is it to a man that's mean? Or is it to one of those rank rebels, That lately from Scotland came?'
6 'O it is to a man of might,' she says, 'It is not to one that is mean; It is to Lord Thomas of Winsberry, And for him I must suffer pain.'
7 The king called up his merry men all, By one, by two, and by three: 'Go fetch me Lord Thomas of Winsberry, For tomorrow he shall die.'
8 They sought him up, they sought him down, As fast as fast could be; There they found Lord Thomas of Winsberry, Sitting under an orange tree.
9 'Get up, get up, Lord Thomas,' they said, 'Get up, and bound your way; For the king has sworn by his honoured crown That tomorrow is thy dying-day.'
10 'O what have I robbd, or what have I stolen, Or what have I killed or slain, That I should be afraid to speak to your king? For I have done him no wrong.'
11 Lord Thomas came tripping up the stair, His cloathing was of the silk; His fine yellow hair hung dangling down, His skin was white as the milk.
12 And when he came before the king He kneeled down on his knee; Says, What is your will with me, my liege, What is your will with me?
13 'I think no wonder, Lord Thomas,' he says, 'That my daughter fell in love with thee; If thou wert a woman, as thou art a man, My bed-fellow thou wouldst be.
14 'Will ye marry my daughter Jean, By the faith of thy right hand? Thou'se have part of my gold, part of my gear, And a third part of my land.'
15 'Yes, I will marry thy daughter Jean, By the faith of my right hand; I'll have none of your gold, none of your gear; I have enough in fair Scotland.'
16 He has mounted her on a milk-white steed, Himself on a dapple-grey; He's got as much land in fair Scotland As they can ride in a summer's day.
* * * * *
#A.#
O _is added, in singing, to every second and fourth verse_.
1^2. oh.
9^3. the reeds of, _in my copy_.
11^2. of my.
#B.#
Quhat, ze, _etc., are printed_ what, ye.
#C.#
9. _Given thus in Kinloch's annotated copy of his Ancient Scottish Ballads; derived, from Motherwell:_
The king called doun his merry men, By thirties and by three; Lord Thomas, that used to be the first. The hindmost man was he.
#D.#
3^2. _altered, wrongly, to_ But lain with a.
9^2. shrrill.
#F.#
O _is added, in singing, to every second and fourth verse_.
1^{3, 4}. _Thus in Motherwell's Note-Book, p. 27:_
Seven long years was past and gone When our Scotish king came home. O
16. _Given thus in Kinloch's annotated copy of his Ancient Scottish Ballads, as the concluding verse of Mr Motherwell's copies and that of Buchan:_
He mounted her on a milk-white steed, Himself on a dapple-grey, And they've as muckle land in braid Scotland As can be rode in a lang simmer's day.
#G.# _Some trifling changes are made by Buchan in printing._
8^4. ben, _printed by Buchan_ len.
#I. a.#
14^2. of my: _so_ #b.#
16^1. her _wanting_.
#b.#
2^3. and very sick.
4^{1, 2}. _wanting._
5^2. that is.
5^3. these.
8^2. As fast as they.
9^3. his _wanting_.
11^3. hang.
13^4. should be.
#c.#
2^2. You are.
3^1. Put off your.
5^2. that is.
5^3. these.
7^4. Sitting under an orange tree.
8. _wanting._
14^2. of my.
14^3. Thou'llt.
[166] "A William Wynnesbury, who was yeoman of the Guard at the time of Henry VIII, used generally to act as Lord of Misrule in the years 1508-19, and he was Friar Tuck at Greenwich in May, 1515 (see Collier's Annals of the Stage, and J. S. Brewer's Letters and Papers of Henry VIII), and this, no doubt, made the name popular with the ballad-makers." Ward, Catalogue of Romances, etc., I, 532. Undeniably the Lord Winsbury of our ballad might be said to have acted as a lord of misrule, but it was hardly an English (or Scots) ballad-maker of the sixteenth century that made this ballad; and Mr. Ward, probably, did not intend so to be understood.
101
WILLIE O DOUGLAS DALE
#A.# 'Willy o Douglass-dale,' Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 8.
#B. a.# 'Dame Oliphant, or, Willie o Douglass Dale,' Buchan MSS, II, 117. #b.# 'The Earl of Douglas and Dame Oliphant,' Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 181; 'Lord Willie Douglas,' Motherwell's MS., p. 619.
#C.# 'Douglass Dale,' Kinloch MSS, V, 327.
#A# was among the fifteen ballads furnished by Mrs Brown to William Tytler in 1783, No 8. The first stanza is cited by Dr Anderson in Nichols's Illustrations, VII, 177. There is a copy in the Abbotsford MS. "Scottish Songs," fol. 16, in which the text is considerably altered; stanzas 7, 12, 19, 22-24 are omitted, and 25 is inserted between 30 and 31. #B b# inserts two stanzas after #B a# 15, and adds one at the end. The copy in Christie's Traditional Ballad Airs, II, 32, is an abridgment of #B b# as made over in The Ballad Minstrelsy of Scotland, Glasgow, 1871, p. 63. #C# has an appendage of two stanzas which belong to another ballad, and are transferred accordingly.
The first part of the story of this ballad, or down to the birth of the boy, is repeated in 'Willie and Earl Richard's Daughter' (hitherto called 'The Birth of Robin Hood'), which immediately follows. This portion of the ballad has resemblances to 'Leesome Brand,' No 15.[167]
#A# 9, #B# 15, is a popular passage the like of which is found in many ballads: as 'Child Waters,' #A# 2, 3; 'Lady Maisry,' #H# 7, 8; 'Willie o Winsbury,' #A# 5, #C# 5, #D# 3; 'Willie and Earl Richard's Daughter, '#A# 4; 'Der Ritter und die Magd,' Düntzer u. Herder, Briefe Goethe's, I, 157, st. 6; Nicolai, I, 40, No 2, st. 6; Wunderhorn, 1806, I, 50, st. 11, Erk, IV, 304, st. 5; Erk's Liederhort, p. 81, st. 10; Hoffmann u. Richter, No. 4, st. 4; Meier, Schwäbische Volkslieder, No 177, st. 9; Ditfurth, II, Nos 6, 7, 8, st. 5; Uhland, No 97 #A#, st. 5; Mittler, No 91, st. 6; 'Schön Elselein,' 'Das Schwabentöchterlein,' Böhme, No 51^a, st. 11, No 51^b, st. 8 (==Mittler, No 218; Uhland, No 257); 'Þiðriks kvæði konúngs,' Íslenzk fornkvæði, II, 218, No 57, st. 6; Haupt u. Schmaler, V. l. der Wenden, I, 160, No 136, st. 7; Sakellarios, Τà Κυπριακá, III, 52, No 20, vv 5-9; Guillon, Ch. p. de l'Ain, 'La Fille d'un Boulanger,' p. 201, sts 1, 2; Milá, Romancerillo, 'La infanta seducida,' p. 249, No 258, l. 4; 'De la infanta y el hijo del rey de Francia,' Wolf y Hofmann, Primavera, II, 91, No 158, verses 5, 6; Aigner, Ungarische Volksdichtungen, p. 86, st. 1, p. 215, st. 2.
The very ill-timed question in #B# 20 occurs in 'Young Hunting,' No 68, #K# 8, 'Clerk Saunders,' No 69, #F# 5, Buchan, Ballads of the North of Scotland, 'Auld Matrons,' II, 238, st. 4, and 'Willie's Fatal Visit,' II, 260, st. 7. For others in this passage see 'Rose the Red and White Lily.' The bribe of gowns in #B# 29 is found in 'Young Hunting,' #B# 9, #C# 7, #K# 13.
The historical foundation for this ballad suggested in The Ballad Minstrelsy of Scotland, Glasgow, 1871, p. 63, cannot be seriously entertained.
A
Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 8.
1 O Willy was as brave a lord As ever saild the sea, And he has gane to the English court, To serve for meat and fee.
2 He had nae been at the kingis court A twelvemonth and a day, Till he longd for a sight o the king's daughter, But ane he coud never see.
3 O it fell ance upon a day To the green wood she has gane, An Willy he has followd her, With the clear light o the moon.
4 He looted him low, by her did go, Wi his hat intill his hand: 'O what's your will wi me, Sir Knight? I pray keep your hat on.'
5 'O I am not a knight, Madam, Nor never thinks to be; For I am Willy o Douglassdale, An I serve for meat and fee.'
6 'O I'll gang to my bowr,' she says, 'An sigh baith even an morn That ever I saw your face, Willy, Or that ever ye was born.
7 'O I'll gang to my bowr,' she says, 'An I'll pray baith night an day, To keep me frae your tempting looks, An frae your great beauty.'
8 O in a little after that He keepit Dame Oliphant's bowr, An the love that passd between this twa, It was like paramour.
9 'O narrow, narrow's my gown, Willy, That wont to be sae wide; An short, short is my coats, Willy, That wont to be sae side; An gane is a' my fair colour, An low laid is my pride.
10 'But an my father get word of this, He'll never drink again; An gin my mother get word of this, In her ain bowr she'll go brain; An gin my bold brothers get word this, I fear, Willy, you'll be slain.'
11 'O will you leave your father's court, An go along wi me? I'll carry you unto fair Scotland, And mak you a lady free.'
12 She pat her han in her pocket An gae him five hunder poun: 'An take you that now, Squire Willy, Till awa that we do won.'
13 Whan day was gane, and night was come, She lap the castle-wa; But Willy kepit his gay lady, He was laith to let her fa.
14 Whan night was gane, an day come in, An lions gaed to their dens, An ay the lady followd him, An the tears came hailing down.
15 'O want ye ribbons to your hair? Or roses to your shoone? Or want ye as meickle dear bought love As your ain heart can contain?'
16 'I want nae ribbons to my hair, Nor roses till my shoone; An Ohone, alas, for dear bought love! I have mair nor I can contain.'
17 O he's pu'd the oak in good green wood, An he's made to her a fire; He coverd it oer wi withred leaves, An gard it burn thro ire.
18 He made a bed i the good green wood, An he's laid his lady down, An he's coverd her oer wi fig-tree leaves, But an his ain night-gown.
19 'O had I a bunch o yon red roddins, That grows in yonder wood, But an a drink o water clear, I think it woud do me good.'
20 He's pu'd her a bunch o yon red roddins, That grew beside yon thorn, But an a drink o water clear, Intill his hunting-horn.
21 He's bent his bow, and shot the deer, An thro the green wood gane, An ere that he came back again His lady took travailing.
22 'O up ye tak that horn,' she says, 'An ye blaw a blast for me; Gin my father be in good green wood, Sae seen's he'll come me ti.'
23 'O gin there be a man on earth That ye loo better nor me, Ye blaw the horn yoursel,' he says, 'For it's never be blawn by me.'
24 O he's bent his bow, an shot the deer, An thro the green wood has he gane, An lang or he came back again His lady bare him a son.
25 O up has he tane his bonny young son, An washn him wi the milk, An up has he tane his gay lady, An rowd her i the silk.
26 He's bent his bow, and shot the deer, An thro the green wood has he gane, Till he met wi a well-fard may, Her father's flock feeding.
27 'Ye leave your father's flock feeding, An go along wi me; I'll carry you to a lady fair, Will gi you both meat and fee.'
28 O whan she came the lady before, She's fa'n down on her knee: 'O what's your will wi me, my dame? An a dame you seem to be.'
29 'O I'm Dame Oliphant, the king's daughter, Nae doubt but ye've heard o me; Will you leave your father's flock feeding, An go to Scotlan wi me?
30 'An ye sal get a nouriship Intill an earldome, An I will gar provide for the To marry some brave Scotsman.'
31 The may she keepit the bonny boy, An Willy led his lady, Untill they took their fair shippin, Then quikly hame came they.
32 The win was fair, an the sea was clear, An they a' wan safe to lan; He's haild her lady of Douglassdale, Himsel the lord within.
B
#a.# Buchan MSS, II, 117. #b.# Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 181; Motherwell's MS., p. 619.
1 Willie was an earl's ae son, And an earl's ae son was he, But he thought his father lack to sair, And his mother of low degree.
2 But he is on to fair England, To sair for meat an fee, And all was for Dame Oliphant, A woman of great beauty.
3 He hadna been in fair England A month but barely ane, Ere he dreamd that fair Dame Oliphant Gied him a gay gold ring.
4 He hadna been in fair England A month but barely four, Ere he dreamd that fair Dame Oliphant Gied him a red rose flower, Well set about with white lilies, Like to the paramour.
5 It fell ance upon a day Dame Oliphant thought lang, And she gaed on to good green wood, As fast as she could gang.
6 As Willie stood in his chamber-door, And as he thought it good, There he beheld Dame Oliphant, As she came thro the wood.
7 He's taen his bow his arm oer, His sword into his hand, And he is on to good green wood, As fast as he could gang.
8 And there he found Dame Oliphant, Was lying sound asleep, And aye the sounder she did sleep The nearer he did creep.
9 But when she wakend from her sleep An angry maid was she, Crying, Had far away frae me, young man, Had far away frae me! For I fear ye are the Scottish knight That beguiles young ladies free.
10 'I am not the Scottish knight, Nor ever thinks to be; I am but Willie o Douglass Dale, That serves for meat an fee.'
11 'If ye be Willie o Douglass Dale, Ye're dearly welcome to me; For oft in my sleep have I thought on You and your merry winking ee.'
12 But the cocks they crew, and the horns blew, And the lions took the hill, And Willie he gaed hame again, To his hard task and till; And likewise did Dame Oliphant, To her book and her seam.
13 Till it fell ance upon a day Dame Oliphant thought lang, And she went on to Willie's bower-yates, As fast as she could gang.
14 'O are ye asleep now, Squire Willie? O are you asleep?' said she; O waken, waken, Squire Willie, O waken, and speak to me.
15 'For the gowns that were oer wide, Willie, They winna meet on me, And the coats that were oer side, Willie, They winna come to my knee; And if the knights of my father's court get word, I'm sure they'll gar you die.'
* * * * * * *
16 But she's taen a web of the scarlet, And she tare it fine an sma, And even into Willie's arms She leapt the castle-wa; And Willie was wight and well able, And he keept her frae a fa.
17 But the cocks they crew, and the horns blew, And the lions took the hill, And Willie's ladie followed him, And the tears did twinkle still.
18 'O want ye ribbons to your hair? Or roses to your sheen? Or want ye chains about your neck? Ye'se get mair ere that be deen.'
19 'I want not ribbons to my hair, Nor roses to my sheen, And there's mair chains about my neck Nor ever I'll see deen; But I have as much dear bought love As my heart can contain.'
20 'Will ye go to the cards or dice? Or to the table ee? Or to a bed, so well down spread, And sleep till it be day?'
21 'I've mair need of the roddins, Willie, That grow on yonder thorn; Likewise a drink o Marywell water, Out of your grass-green horn.
22 'I've mair need of a fire, Willie, To had me frae the cauld; Likewise a glass of your red wine, Ere I bring my son to the fauld.'
23 He's got a bush o roddins till her, That grows on yonder thorn; Likewise a drink o Marywell water, Out of his grass-green horn.
24 He carried the match in his pocket That kindled to her the fire, Well set about wi oaken spells, That learnd oer Lincolnshire.
25 And he has bought to his lady The white bread and the wine; And the milk he milked from the goats, He fed his young son on.
26 Till it fell ance upon a day Dame Oliphant thought lang: 'O gin ye hae a being, Willie, I pray ye hae me hame.'
27 He's taen his young son in his arms, His lady by the hand, And they're down thro good green wood, As fast as they could gang.
28 Till they came to a shepherd-may, Was feeding her flocks alone; Said, Will ye gae alang wi me, And carry my bonny young son?
29 The gowns that were shapen for my back, They shall be sewd for thine; And likewise I'll gar Squire Willie Gie you a braw Scotsman.
30 When they came on to Willie's bower-yates, And far beyont the sea, She was haild the lady o Douglass Dale, And Willie an earl to be: Likewise the maid they brought awa, She got a braw Scotsman.
C
Kinloch MSS, V, 327, in the handwriting of Dr John Hill Burton.
1 Sweet Sir William of Douglas Dale, A knight's ae son was he; He dreamed of dear Dame Oliphant, Lang ere he did her see.
2 He dreamed a woman of great beauty Gave him a red rose flower, Well busket about wi the lillies white, Just like the paramour.
3 O sweet Sir William of Douglas Dale, A knight's ae son was he, And he is on to the king's high court, To serve for meat and fee.
* * * * * * *
4 Five hundred pounds of Spanish gold, Tied in a towal so white, And that she has given her Lord William, Out oer the castle-dyke.
5 Five hundred pounds of Spanish gold, Tied in a towel sae sma, And that she has given her own true-love, Out ore the castle-wa.
6 She rowed hersell in a robe o silk, To loup the castle-wa; He ceppet her in his armes twa, And he let not her get a fa.
* * * * * * *
7 The cocks do craw, and the day does daw, And the wild fowl bodes on hill; The lassie she followed her Sweet William, And let the tears down fall.
* * * * * * *
8 'O want you ribbons to your hair? Or roses to your sheen? Or want ye as much of feel daft love As your heart can contain?'
9 'I want nor ribbons to my hair, Nor roses to my sheen; I've got as much o dear bought love As my heart can contain.'
* * * * * * *
10 He carried a flint in his pocket, And he strack to her a fire, And he buskit it roun wi the leaves o oak, And gart it burn wi ire.
11 He's taen his big coat him about, And his gun into his hand, And he has gone to good green wood, To kill some venison.
12 He's taen his big coat him about, And his gun into his han, But lang ere he came back again She bare his dear young son.
13 He rowed her in his muckle coat, But in his good night-gown, And he fed her wi the good goat-milk, Till she was well able to gang.
14 He's taen his young son in his arm, His lady in his hand, And they are down thro good green wood, As fast as they can gang.
15 And they came to a shepherd's daughter, Was feeding at her sheep; Says, Will ye go to Douglass Dale, Wi my yong son to keep?
16 O I will gee you gold, maiden, And I will gee you fee, Gin ye will go to Douglas Dale, Wi my yong son and me.
17 She's taen his young son in her arm, And kissed baith cheek and chin; Says, I will go to Douglas Dale, As fast as I can win.
18 He's taen his big coat him about, And his lady in his hand, And they are off to Douglas Dale, As fast as they can gang.
19 And when they came to Douglas Dale A happy man was he, For his lady, and his young son, And his nurse, a' three.
* * * * *
#A.#
_The stanzas are written in the MS. in two long lines. The first stanza, as given by Anderson, is:_
Willie was as brave a lord As ever saild the sea, And he's gone to the English court, To serve for meat and fee.
1^3. Enlish.
6^2, 7^2, 14^1, 24^1. & _for_ an.
22^4. tie(?).
24^1. the bow.
#B. a.#
27^3. And there.
#b.#
15^1. _Omits_ For.
_After 15, inserts:_
'Dame Oliphant, Dame Oliphant, A king's daughter are ye; But woud ye leave your father and mother, And gang awa wi me?'
'O I woud leave my father and mother, And the nearest that eer betide, And I woud nae be feard to gang, Gin ye war by my side.
17^4. trinkle.
19^3. there are.
19^4. Then ever.
20^2. table play.
23^2. grow.
26^4. pray you.
_After 30, inserts:_
And lang and happy did they live, But now their days are deen, And in the kirk o sweet Saint Bride Their graves are growing green.
_Motherwell makes some alterations in his copy: as 1^3, ~laigh to sair~; 12^4, ~and toil~; ~whateer~, in the second line of the second inserted stanza, above; besides others which are purely arbitrary. He has ~table eye~ in 20^2, where Buchan prints ~table play~, and ~living~, with ~being~ written over, in 26^3._
#C.#
3^1, 8^1, 16^1. Oh.
6^3. ceppit?
16^{1, 2}. gie?
_There are appended to this version two stanzas of which Burton says_: The reciter of this ballad is obstinate in persisting that the last two stanzas belong to it. They are evidently taken from 'The Birth of Robin Hood,' and have no connection with this ballad. _See the following ballad._
[167] For the five hundred pounds in #A# 12, #C# 4, 5, cf. 'Leesome Brand,' #A# 12, 18, and the corresponding Scandinavian ballads.
102
WILLIE AND EARL RICHARD'S DAUGHTER
#A.# 'The Birth of Robin Hood,' Jamieson's Popular Ballads, II, 44.
#B.# 'The Birth of Robin Hood,' Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 1.
#C.# Kinloch's MSS, V, 330 f, two stanzas.
#A# was taken down from Mrs Brown's recitation by Jamieson in 1800, and published in his collection in 1806, "without the alteration of a single word." #C# wrongly forms the conclusion of 'Willie o Douglas Dale,' the preceding ballad. The copy in Christie's Traditional Ballad Airs, #I#, 128, is an abridgment of #B#, with a very few trivial changes.
The first half of the story in #A#, 1-9, is that of 'Willie of Douglas Dale,' #A#, 1-24, and there is a partial verbal correspondence.[168] In the latter a shepherd's daughter is engaged as nurse to the boy born in the wood, and Dame Oliphant is taken home by her lover and made lady of Douglas Dale. In the present ballad the lady's father tracks his daughter to the wood, finds the new-born child, adopts him as his grandson, and gives him the name Robin Hood, Willie [Archibald] disappearing from the scene.
The first part of #B# 4-18 is a variety of the wide-spread tragic ballad of 'Leesome Brand,' No 15. So, also, is the larger part of 'Willie o Douglas Dale,' with the tragic features dropped.
This ballad certainly does not belong to the cycle of Robin Hood, and for this reason the title hitherto borne by it could not be retained. The connection with Robin Hood was in all probability mediated by the name Brown Robin. Brown Robin plays the part of Willie [Archibald] in 'Rose the Red and White Lily,' #A# 25-29. Brown Robin's son, in 'Jellon Grame,' is called Robin after Robin Hood, #B# 14, #C# 7, 17. Brown Robin carries off his love to the wood in the ballad of the same name. The Earl of Huntingdon, #B# 3, 21, has no place in the ancient traditional ballads of Robin Hood, but is of later literary invention. #A# 17, #B# 1, #C# 1, may, however, very well have belonged to some Robin Hood ballad.
* * * * *
#A# is translated by Grundtvig, Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, p. 22, No 3.
#A#
Jamieson's Popular Ballads, II, 44, from Mrs Brown's recitation.
1 O Willie's large o limb and lith, And come o high degree, And he is gane to Earl Richard, To serve for meat and fee.
2 Earl Richard had but ae daughter, Fair as a lily-flower, And they made up their love-contract Like proper paramour.
3 It fell upon a simmer's nicht, Whan the leaves were fair and green, That Willie met his gay ladie Intil the wood alane.
4 'O narrow is my gown, Willie, That wont to be sae wide; And gane is a' my fair colour, That wont to be my pride.
5 'But gin my father should get word What's past between us twa, Before that he should eat or drink, He'd hang you oer that wa.
6 'But ye'll come to my bower, Willie, Just as the sun gaes down, And kep me in your arms twa, And latna me fa down.'
7 O whan the sun was now gane down, He's doen him till her bower, And there, by the lee licht o the moon, Her window she lookit oer.
8 Intill a robe o red scarlet She lap, fearless o harm; And Willie was large o lith and limb, And keppit her in his arm.
9 And they've gane to the gude green wood, And, ere the night was deen, She's born to him a bonny young son, Amang the leaves sae green.
10 Whan night was gane, and day was come, And the sun began to peep, Up and raise the Earl Richard Out o his drowsy sleep.
11 He's ca'd upon his merry young men, By ane, by twa, and by three: 'O what's come o my daughter dear, That she's nae come to me?
12 'I dreamt a dreary dream last night, God grant it come to gude! I dreamt I saw my daughter dear Drown in the saut sea flood.
13 'But gin my daughter be dead or sick, Or yet be stown awa, I mak a vow, and I'll keep it true, I'll hang ye ane and a'!'
14 They sought her back, they sought her fore, They sought her up and down; They got her in the gude green wood, Nursing her bonny young son.
15 He took the bonny boy in his arms, And kist him tenderlie; Says, Though I would your father hang, Your mother's dear to me.
16 He kist him oer and oer again: 'My grandson I thee claim, And Robin Hood in gude green wood, And that shall be your name.'
17 And mony ane sings o grass, o grass, And mony ane sings o corn, And mony ane sings o Robin Hood Kens little whare he was born.
18 It wasna in the ha, the ha, Nor in the painted bower, But it was in the gude green wood, Amang the lily-flower.
#B#
Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 1.
1 Mony ane talks o the grass, the grass, And mony ane o the corn, And mony ane talks o gude Robin Hood Kens little whar he was born.
2 He was gotten in a earl's ha, And in a lady's bower, And born into gude greenwood, Thro mony cauld winter's shower.
3 His father was the earl's own steward, Sprung frae sma pedigree; His mother, Earl Huntingdon's ae daughter, For he had nane else but she.
4 When nine months were near an end, And eight months they were gone, The lady's cheeks wi tears were wet, And thus she made her moan:
5 'What shall I say, my love Archibald, This day for you and me? I will be laid in cauld irons, And ye'll be hanged on tree.'
6 'What aileth my love Clementina? What gars you mourn sae sair?' 'You know,' said she, 'I'm with child to thee, These eight lang months and mair.'
7 'Will ye gae to my mother's bower, Stands on yon stately green? Or will ye gae to the gude greenwood, Where ye will not be seen?'
8 'I winna gang to your mother's bower, Stands on yon stately green; But I will on to gude greenwood, For I will not be seen.'
9 He's girt his sword down by his side, Took his lady by the hand, And they are on thro gude greenwood, As fast as they could gang.
10 With slowly steps these couple walkd, About miles scarcely three. When this lady, being sair wearied out, Lay down beneath a tree.
11 'O for a few of yon junipers, To cheer my heart again, And likewise for a gude midwife, To ease me of my pain!'
12 'I'll bring to you yon junipers, To cheer your heart again, And I'll be to you a gude midwife, To ease you of your pain.'
13 'Had far awa frae me, Archibald, For this will never dee; That's nae the fashion o our land, And it's nae be used by me.
14 'Ye'll take your small-sword by your side, Your buckler and your bow, And ye'll gae down thro gude greenwood, And hunt the deer and roe.
15 'You will stay in gude greenwood, And with the chase go on, Until yon white hind pass you by, Then straight to me ye'll come.'
16 He's girt his sword then by his side, His buckler and his bow, And he is on thro gude greenwood, To hunt the deer and roe.
17 And in the greenwood he did stay, And with the chase gaed on, Until the white hind passd him by, Then to his love he came.
18 He girt his sword then by his side, Fast thro greenwood went he, And there he found his love lie dead, Beneath the green oak tree.
19 The sweet young babe that she had born Right lively seemed to be; 'Ohon, alas!' said young Archibald, 'A mournful scene to me!
20 'Altho my sweet babe is alive, This does increase my woe; How to nourish a motherless babe Is mair than I do know.'
21 He looked east, he looked west, To see what he could see, Then spied the Earl o Huntingdon, And mony a man him wi.
22 Then Archibald fled from the earl's face, Among the leaves sae green, That he might hear what might be said, And see, and nae be seen.
23 The earl straight thro the greenwood came, Unto the green oak tree, And there he saw his daughter dead, Her living child her wi.
24 Then he's taen up the little boy, Rowed him in his gown-sleeve; Said, Tho your father's to my loss, Your mother's to me leave.
25 And if ye live until I die, My bowers and lands ye'se heir; You are my only daughter's child; But her I never had mair.
26 Ye'se hae all kinds of nourishment, And likewise nurses three; If I knew where the fause knave were, High hanged should he be.
27 His daughter he buried in gude church-yard, All in a mournful mood, And brought the boy to church that day, And christend him Robin Hood.
28 This boy was bred in the earl's ha Till he became a man, But loved to hunt in gude greenwood, To raise his noble fame.
C
Kinloch MSS, V, 330 f, the last two stanzas of 'Douglass Dale.'
1 Mony ane speaks o grass, o grass, And mony mare o corn, And mony ane sings o Robin Heed Kens little whare he was born.
2 He was born in good green wood, At the fut o yon olive tree; His father was a knight's ae son, And his mother a lady free.
* * * * *
#B.#
_Christie says of his copy that the words sung by his maternal grandfather_ "were somewhat, as far as the Editor can remember, like those given by Buchan, _and that_ some slight alterations _were made by him_ from the way the Editor heard the ballad sung."
_The alterations in Christie's eighteen stanzas are:_
1^3. mony talk.
1^4. That kenna.
8^4. Whare I will.
15^1. in the.
15^3. a white.
18^2. gaed he.
25^4. I neer.
28^1. The.
[168] Compare No 102, #A# 1^{3, 4}, and No 101, #A# 1^{3, 4}; 2^{3, 4} and 8^{3, 4}; 3 and 3; 4 and 9^{1, 2, 5, 6}; 5 and 10^{1, 2, 5, 6}; 7^1, 8^{2-4} and 13; 9^3 and 24^4. Also No 102, #A# 3, and No 101, #B# 13; 4^{1, 2}, 5^{1, 4} and 15^{1, 2, 5, 6}; 8 and 16. Also, No 102, #A# 1, and No 101, #C# 3; 8 and 6.
103
ROSE THE RED AND WHITE LILY
#A.# 'Rose the Red and White Lilly,' Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 1.
#B.# 'Rose the Red and White Lillie,' Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 67.
#C.# 'The Wedding of Robin Hood and Little John,' Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 69.
#A# was No 6 of the fifteen ballads written down by Mrs Brown for William Tytler in 1783: Anderson, in Nichols's Illustrations, VII, 176. This copy was printed by Scott in his Minstrelsy, II, 60, 1802, "chiefly from Mrs Brown's MS.," but with numerous alterations. Kinloch's annotated copy of his Ancient Scottish Ballads supplies an additional stanza of #C#; the 17th.
The story in #A# is that Rose the Red and White Lily have a bad step-mother, who, however, has two good sons that love these maids: Brown Robin, Lily, and Arthur, Rose. The maids build a bower, in which the young people make very merry, and the step-mother, to spoil sport, tells her sons that they must sail the sea. Brown Robin goes to the wood, and Arthur to the king's court. The maids disguise themselves as men, and take service with their lovers: White Lily under the name of Roge the Round, and Rose the Red under that of Sweet Willy. Before they part they make a mutual vow that at three blasts of a horn the one shall come to the other's help. Once upon a time, when Robin and his men are putting the stone, Roge sets it seven foot beyond all the rest, but, having exerted herself too much in so doing, is fain to lean her back against an oak and utters a moan, by which Brown Robin perceives that Roge is a woman. Forty weeks after this Roge has occasion for the aid of a bower-wife. Brown Robin proffers his help, but it is declined; nevertheless, with an apparent but not a real inconsistency, the lady asks him to blow her horn, for she has a brother at the court who will come to her upon the sound. Robin replies that if she has a brother whom she loves better than him she may blow the horn herself. This she does, and Sweet Willy comes at once. Brown Robin will let no man enter the bower without a fight. Rose the Red is wounded, and avows herself to be a woman. Brown Robin is distressed: he wished never to see a woman's blood, for the sake of a maid named White Lily. Roge the Round reveals herself as that same. Word comes to the king's court that Brown Robin's man has borne a son, and the king declares that he will go to the wood to inquire into this marvel. Arthur will go with him, to find a foot-page who had left him. Arrived at the wood, Arthur blows his horn, and Sweet Willy comes running to him. Arthur asks the page why he had run away, and is told that it was to see a brother that lives in the wood. The king enters the bower, and finds White Lily nursing her son. This leads to an explanation on the part of Rose the Red. Brown Robin, coming in from hunting, starts to see the king. The king bids him have no fear, but quit the wood and come to court. Brown Robin and White Lily, Arthur and Rose the Red, go to church and are married.
In #B# the two maids, ill-treated by their step-mother, betake themselves to the wood, where they meet, not Brown Robin, but Robin Hood, and take service with him. Rose and Lily change parts; Rose, under the name of Nicholas, consorting with Robin Hood, and Lily, _alias_ Roger Brown, with Little John. It is not, however, Robin Hood and Little John who turn out to be their lovers, but "a lad in the company," and "another youth among the company," stanzas 30, 51. Nothing is said of the king.
In the fragmentary #C# the maids are daughters of a king. Their proper names are not given, and we do not learn that the stepmother has a pair of sons. In consequence of the harshness of their step-mother, these king's daughters go to the wood as Nicholas and Rogee Roun, to seek Robin Hood, and they are discovered to be maids by a song which Rogee sings. Rogee is wedded to Robin Hood, and Nicholas to Little John.
It is easy to see that the Robin Hood of #B#, #C#, was suggested by the Brown Robin of #A#. The name Barnsdale in #A# 12, 51 has certainly been adopted from the Robin Hood cycle, but in the present ballad is the residence of the father of Rose and Lily, not that of Robin Hood.
The only part of the ballad which has the stamp of indubitably ancient tradition is the child-birth in the wood, and this scene is the rightful, and perhaps exclusive, property of 'Leesome Brand,' No 15: see I, 182. #A# 24-29, #B# 40-47, are found again in 'Willie o Douglas Dale,' #A# 15-17, 22, 23, #B# 18, 19, 22, 24, #C# 8-10, and the first part of 'Willie o Douglas Dale,' as well as of the ballad which immediately precedes the present, commonly called 'The Birth of Robin Hood,' is a variation of 'Leesome Brand.'
Robin Hood has no love-story in any ancient ballad, though his name has been foisted into modern love-ballads, as in 'Robin Hood and the Tanner's Daughter,' No 8 #C#. Maid Marian is a late accretion. There is a piteously vulgar broadside, in which Maid Marian, being parted from Robin Hood, dresses herself "like a page" (but armed fully), meets Robin Hood, also under disguise, and has an hour's fight with him. There is so far a resemblance in this to #A# 30 ff, #B# 49, that a woman disguised as a page fights with Robin Hood. I suppose the resemblance to be accidental, but whether it be or not, the question of 'Rose the Red and White Lily' being originally a Robin Hood ballad is not affected.
#A# 3, #B# 5, is like #C# 6 of 'The Clerk's Twa Sons o Owsenford,' No 72.
* * * * *
Scott's copy is translated by Doenniges, p. 40.
A
Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 1.
1 O Rose the Red and White Lilly, Their mother dear was dead, And their father married an ill woman, Wishd them twa little guede.
2 Yet she had twa as fu fair sons As eer brake manis bread, And the tane of them loed her White Lilly, An the tither lood Rose the Red.
3 O biggit ha they a bigly bowr, And strawn it oer wi san, And there was mair mirth i the ladies' bowr Than in a' their father's lan.
4 But out it spake their step-mother, Wha stood a little foreby: I hope to live and play the prank Sal gar your loud sang ly.
5 She's calld upon her eldest son: Come here, my son, to me; It fears me sair, my eldest son, That ye maun sail the sea.
6 'Gin it fear you sair, my mither dear, Your bidding I maun dee; But be never war to Rose the Red Than ye ha been to me.'
7 'O had your tongue, my eldest son, For sma sal be her part; You'll nae get a kiss o her comely mouth Gin your very fair heart should break.'
8 She's calld upon her youngest son: Come here, my son, to me; It fears me sair, my youngest son, That ye maun sail the sea.
9 'Gin it fear you sair, my mither dear, Your bidding I maun dee; But be never war to White Lilly Than ye ha been to me.'
10 'O haud your tongue, my youngest son, For sma sall be her part; You'll neer get a kiss o her comely mouth Tho your very fair heart should break.'
11 When Rose the Red and White Lilly Saw their twa loves were gane, Then stopped ha they their loud, loud sang, And tane up the still mournin; And their step-mother stood listnin by, To hear the ladies' mean.
12 Then out it spake her White Lilly: My sister, we'll be gane; Why should we stay in Barnsdale, To waste our youth in pain?
13 Then cutted ha they their green cloathing A little below their knee, An sae ha they there yallow hair, A little aboon there bree; An they've doen them to haely chapel, Was christened by Our Lady.
14 There ha they chang'd their ain twa names, Sae far frae ony town, An the tane o them hight Sweet Willy, An the tither o them Roge the Roun.
15 Between this twa a vow was made, An they sware it to fulfil; That at three blasts o a bugle-horn, She'd come her sister till.
16 Now Sweet Willy's gane to the kingis court, Her true-love for to see, An Roge the Roun to good green wood, Brown Robin's man to be.
17 As it fell out upon a day They a' did put the stane, Full seven foot ayont them a' She gard the puttin-stane gang.
18 She leand her back against an oak, And gae a loud Ohone! Then out it spake him Brown Robin, But that's a woman's moan!
19 'O ken ye by my red rose lip? Or by my yallow hair? Or ken ye by my milk-white breast? For ye never saw it bare?'
20 'I ken no by your red rose lip, Nor by your yallow hair; Nor ken I by your milk-white breast, For I never saw it bare; But come to your bowr whaever sae likes, Will find a lady there.'
21 'O gin ye come to my bowr within, Thro fraud, deceit, or guile, Wi this same bran that's in my han, I swear I will the kill.'
22 'But I will come thy bowr within, An spear nae leave,' quoth he; 'An this same bran that's i my han I sall ware back on the.'
23 About the tenth hour of the night The ladie's bower-door was broken, An eer the first hour of the day The bonny knave-bairn was gotten.
24 When days were gane, and months were run, The lady took travailing, And sair she cry'd for a bowr-woman, For to wait her upon.
25 Then out it spake him Brown Robin: Now what needs a' this din? For what coud any woman do But I coud do the same?
26 ''Twas never my mither's fashion,' she says, 'Nor sall it ever be mine, That belted knights shoud eer remain Where ladies dreed their pine.
27 'But ye take up that bugle-horn, An blaw a blast for me; I ha a brother i the kingis court Will come me quickly ti.'
28 'O gin ye ha a brither on earth That ye love better nor me, Te blaw the horn yoursel,' he says, 'For ae blast I winna gie.'
29 She's set the horn till her mouth, And she's blawn three blasts sae shrill; Sweet Willy heard i the kingis court, And came her quickly till.
30 Then up it started Brown Robin, An an angry man was he: 'There comes nae man this bowr within But first must fight wi me.'
31 O they hae fought that bowr within Till the sun was gaing down, Till drops o blude frae Rose the Red Came hailing to the groun.
32 She leand her back against the wa, Says, Robin, let a' be; For it is a lady born and bred That's foughten sae well wi thee.
33 O seven foot he lap a back; Says, Alas, and wae is me! I never wisht in a' my life, A woman's blude to see; An a' for the sake of ae fair maid Whose name was White Lilly.
34 Then out it spake her White Lilly, An a hearty laugh laugh she: She's lived wi you this year an mair, Tho ye kentna it was she.
35 Now word has gane thro a' the lan, Before a month was done, That Brown Robin's man, in good green wood, Had born a bonny young son.
36 The word has gane to the kingis court, An to the king himsel; 'Now, by my fay,' the king could say, 'The like was never heard tell!'
37 Then out it spake him Bold Arthur, An a hearty laugh laugh he: I trow some may has playd the loun, And fled her ain country.
38 'Bring me my steed,' then cry'd the king, 'My bow and arrows keen; I'l ride mysel to good green wood, An see what's to be seen.'
39 'An't please your grace,' said Bold Arthur, 'My liege, I'll gang you wi, An try to fin a little foot-page, That's strayd awa frae me.'
40 O they've hunted i the good green wood The buck but an the rae, An they drew near Brown Robin's bowr, About the close of day.
41 Then out it spake the king in hast, Says, Arthur, look an see Gin that be no your little foot-page That leans against yon tree.
42 Then Arthur took his bugle-horn, An blew a blast sae shrill; Sweet Willy started at the sound, An ran him quickly till.
43 'O wanted ye your meat, Willy? Or wanted ye your fee? Or gat ye ever an angry word, That ye ran awa frae me?'
44 'I wanted nought, my master dear; To me ye ay was good; I came but to see my ae brother, That wons in this green wood.'
45 Then out it spake the king again, Says, Bonny boy, tell to me Wha lives into yon bigly bowr, Stands by yon green oak tree?
46 'O pardon me,' says Sweet Willy, 'My liege, I dare no tell; An I pray you go no near that bowr, For fear they do you fell.'
47 'O baud your tongue, my bonny boy, For I winna be said nay; But I will gang that bowr within, Betide me weel or wae.'
48 They've lighted off their milk-white steeds, An saftly enterd in, An there they saw her White Lilly, Nursing her bonny yong son.
49 'Now, by the rood,' the king coud say, This is a comely sight; I trow, instead of a forrester's man, This is a lady bright!'
50 Then out it spake her Rose the Red, An fell low down on her knee: O pardon us, my gracious liege, An our story I'll tell thee.
51 Our father was a wealthy lord, That wond in Barnsdale; But we had a wicked step-mother, That wrought us meickle bale.
52 Yet she had twa as fu fair sons As ever the sun did see, An the tane o them lood my sister dear, An the tither sayd he lood me.
53 Then out it spake him Bold Arthur, As by the king he stood: Now, by the faith o my body, This shoud be Rose the Red!
54 Then in it came him Brown Robin, Frae hunting o the deer, But whan he saw the king was there, He started back for fear.
55 The king has taen him by the hand, An bade him naithing dread; Says, Ye maun leave the good green wood, Come to the court wi speed.
56 Then up he took White Lilly's son, An set him on his knee; Says, Gin ye live to wiald a bran, My bowman ye sall bee.
57 The king he sent for robes of green, An girdles o shinning gold; He gart the ladies be arrayd Most comely to behold.
58 They've done them unto Mary Kirk, An there gat fair wedding, An fan the news spread oer the lan, For joy the bells did ring.
59 Then out it spake her Rose the Red, An a hearty laugh laugh she: I wonder what would our step-dame say, Gin she this sight did see!
B
Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 67.
1 Now word is gane thro a' the land, Gude seal that it sae spread! To Rose the Red and White Lillie, Their mither dear was dead.
2 Their father's married a bauld woman, And brought her ower the sea, Twa sprightly youths, her ain young sons, Intill her companie.
3 They fixd their eyes on those ladies, On shipboard as they stood, And sware, if ever they wan to land, These ladies they woud wed.
4 But there was nae a quarter past, A quarter past but three, Till these young luvers a' were fond O other's companie.
5 The knights they harped i their bower, The ladies sewd and sang; There was mair mirth in that chamer Than a' their father's lan.
6 Then out it spak their step-mither, At the stair-foot stood she: I'm plagued wi your troublesome noise! What makes your melodie?
7 O Rose the Red, ye sing too loud, White Lillie, your voice is strang; But gin I live and brook my life, I'se gar you change your sang.
8 'We maunna change our loud, loud song For nae duke's son ye'll bear; We winna change our loud, loud song, But aye we'll sing the mair.
9 'We never sung the sang, mither, But we'll sing ower again; We'll take our harps into our hands, And we'll harp, and we'll sing.'
10 She's calld upon her twa young sons, Says, Boun ye for the sea; Let Rose the Red and White Lillie Stay in their bower wi me.
11 'O God forbid,' said her eldest son, 'Nor lat it ever be, Unless ye were as kind to our luves As gin we were them wi.'
12 'Yet never the less, my pretty sons, Ye'll boun you for the faem; Let Rose the Red and White Lillie Stay in their bowers at hame.'
13 'O when wi you we came alang, We felt the stormy sea, And where we go, ye neer shall know, Nor shall be known by thee.'
14 Then wi her harsh and boisterous word She forc'd these lads away, While Rose the Red and White Lillie Still in their bowers did stay.
15 But there was not a quarter past, A quarter past but ane, Till Rose the Red in rags she gaed, White Lillie's claithing grew thin.
16 Wi bitter usage every day, The ladies they thought lang; 'Ohon, alas!' said Rose the Red, 'She's gard us change our sang.
17 'But we will change our own fu names, And we'll gang frae the town, Frae Rose the Red and White Lillie To Nicholas and Roger Brown.
18 'And we will cut our green claithing A little aboon our knee, And we will on to gude greenwood, Twa bauld bowmen to be.'
19 'Ohon, alas!' said White Lillie, 'My fingers are but sma, And tho my hands woud wield the bow, They winna yield at a'.'
20 'O had your tongue now, White Lillie, And lat these fears a' be; There's naething that ye're awkward in But I will learn thee.'
21 Then they are on to gude greenwood, As fast as gang coud they; O then they spied him Robin Hood, Below a green aik tree.
22 'Gude day, gude day, kind sir,' they said, 'God make you safe and free:' 'Gude day, gude day,' said Robin Hood, 'What is your wills wi me?'
23 'Lo here we are, twa banishd knights, Come frae our native hame; We're come to crave o thee service, Our king will gie us nane.'
24 'If ye be twa young banishd knights, Tell me frae what countrie:' 'Frae Anster town into Fifeshire; Ye know it as well as we.'
25 'If a' be true that ye hae said, And tauld just now to me, Ye're welcome, welcome, every one; Your master I will be.
26 'Now ye shall eat as I do eat, And lye as I do lye; Ye salna wear nae waur claithing Nor my young men and I.'
27 Then they went to a ruinous house, And there they enterd in, And Nicholas fed wi Robin Hood, And Roger wi Little John.
28 But it fell ance upon a day They were at the putting-stane, Whan Rose the Red she viewd them a', As they stood on the green.
29 She hit the stane then wi her foot, And kepd it wi her knee, And spaces three aboon them a' I wyte she gard it flee.
30 She sat her back then to a tree, And gae a loud Ohon! A lad spak in the companie, I hear a woman's moan.
31 'How know you that, young man?' she said, 'How know you that o me? Did eer ye see me in that place Ae foot my ground to flee?
32 'Or know ye by my cherry cheeks? Or by my yellow hair? Or by the paps on my breast-bane? Ye never saw them bare.'
33 'I know not by your cherry cheeks, Nor by your yellow hair; But I know by your milk-white chin, On it there grows nae hair.
34 'I never saw you in that cause Ae foot your ground to flee; I've seen you stan wi sword in han Mang men's blood to the knee.
35 'But if I come your bower within, By night, or yet by day, I shall know before I go If ye be man or may.'
36 'O if you come my bower within, By night, or yet by day, As soon's I draw my trusty brand, Nae lang ye'll wi me stay.'
37 But he is haunted to her bower, Her bigly bower o stane, Till he has got her big wi bairn, And near sax months she's gane.
38 Whan three mair months were come and gane, They gaed to hunt the hynde; She wont to be the foremost ane, But now stayd far behynd.
39 Her luver looks her in the face, And thus to her said he; I think your cheeks are pale and wan; Pray, what gaes warst wi thee?
40 O want ye roses to your breast? Or ribbons to your sheen? Or want ye as muckle o dear bought luve As your heart can conteen?
41 'I want nae roses to my breast, Nae ribbons to my sheen; Nor want I as muckle dear bought luve As my heart can conteen.
42 'I'd rather hae a fire behynd, Anither me before, A gude midwife at my right side, Till my young babe be bore.'
43 'I'll kindle a fire wi a flint-stane, Bring wine in a green horn; I'll be midwife at your right side, Till your young babe be born.'
44 'That was neer my mither's custom, Forbid that it be mine! A knight stan by a lady bright Whan she drees a' her pine.
45 'There is a knight in gude greenwood, If that he kent o me, Thro stock and stane and the hawthorn Sae soon's he woud come me tee.'
46 'If there be a knight in gude greenwood Ye like better than me, If ance he come your bower within, Ane o us twa shall dee.'
47 She set a horn to her mouth, And she blew loud and shrill; Thro stock and stane and the hawthorn Brave Roger came her till.
48 'Wha's here sae bauld,' the youth replied, 'Thus to encroach on me?' 'O here I am,' the knight replied, 'Hae as much right as thee.'
49 Then they fought up the gude greenwood, Sae did they down the plain; They niddart ither wi lang braid-swords, Till they were bleedy men.
50 Then out it spak the sick woman, Sat under the greenwood tree; O had your han, young man, she said, She's a woman as well as me.
51 Then out it speaks anither youth, Amang the companie; Gin I had kent what I ken now, 'T is for her I woud dee.
52 'O wae mat worth you, Rose the Red, An ill death mat ye dee! Altho ye tauld upo yoursell, Ye might hae heald on me.'
53 'O for her sake I was content For to gae ower the sea; For her I left my mither's ha, Tho she proves fause to me.'
54 But whan these luvers were made known, They sung right joyfullie, Nae blyther was the nightingale, Nor bird that sat on tree.
55 Now they hae married these ladies, Brought them to bower and ha; And now a happy life they lead; I wish sae may we a'.
C
Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, annotated by the editor, p. 69.
1 The king has wedded an ill woman, Into some foreign land; His daughters twa, that stood in awe, They bravely sat and sang.
2 Then in became their step-mother, Sae stately steppin ben: 'O gin I live and bruik my life, I'll gar ye change your tune.'
3 'O we sang neer that sang, ladie, But we will sing again; And ye neer boor that son, ladie, We wad lay our love on.
4 'But we will cow our yellow locks A little abune our bree, And we will on to gude greenwud, And serve for meat and fee.
5 'And we will kilt our gay claithing A little below the knee, And we will on to gude greenwud, Gif Robin Hood we see.
6 'And we will change our ain twa names, When we gae frae the toun; The tane we will call Nicholas, The tither Rogee Roun.'
7 Then they hae cowd their yellow locks A little abune their bree, And they are on to gude greenwud, To serve for meat and fee.
8 And they hae kilt their gay claithing A little below their knee, And they are on to gud greenwud, Gif Robin Hood they see.
9 And they hae chang'd thair ain twa names, Whan they gaed frae the toun; The tane they've called Nicholas, The tither Rogee Roun.
10 And they hae staid in gude greenwud, And never a day thoucht lang, Till it fell ance upon a day That Rogee sang a sang.
11 'Whan we were in our father's bouer, We sewd the silken seam; But now we walk the gude greenwud, And bear anither name.
12 'When we were in our father's ha, We wore the beaten gold; But now we wear the shield sae sharp; Alas, we'll die with cold!'
13 Then up bespak him Robin Hood, As he to them drew near: 'Instead of boys to carry the bow, Two ladies we've got here'
14 So they had not been in gud greenwud A twalmonth and a day, Till Rogee Roun was as big wi bairn As onie lady could gae.
15 'O wae be to my stepmother, That garrd me leave my hame! For I'm wi bairn to Robin Hood, And near nine month is gane.
16 'O wha will be my bouer-woman? Na bouer-woman is here; O wha will be my bouer-woman, Whan that sad time draws near?'
17 Then up bespak him Robin Hood, At the foot o yon greenwud tree: O hold your tongue, fair Rogee Roun, For married ye sall be.
18 The tane was wedded to Robin Hood, And the tither to Little John; And it was a' owing to their stepmother, That garrd them leave their hame.
* * * * *
#A.#
_Written, like all the ballads in the MS., in stanzas of two long lines._
1. _Anderson cites this stanza, giving the last line_, Wist them twa little quee'd.
8^1. younges.
8^3. youngst.
13^1. greed.
21^4. sear.
26^3. beltest kights.
47^4. well?
49^1. the the king.
_Scott's variations, the contrary not being alleged, must be supposed to be his own. Scott inserts after 10:_
Sae Bauld Arthur's gane to our king's court, His hie chamberlain to be; But Brown Robin he has slain a knight, And to grene wood he did flee.
_11^{5, 6} are 12^{1, 2} in the MS., making a stanza with 12^{1, 2}; 12^{3, 4} make an eight-line stanza with 13. 11^{5, 6} are omitted by Scott._
_13^{5, 6} make the last half of a stanza in Scott, which begins:_
And left hae they that bonny bour, To cross the raging sea.
_20^{3, 4} are omitted by Scott._
_33^{5, 6} make the last half of a stanza in Scott, which runs:_
And that all for the knightly vow I swore to Our Ladye, But mair, _etc._
_57 follows 53 in Scott, and 59 is omitted._
#B.#
7^2. While Lillie.
43^2. horn green.
104
PRINCE HEATHEN
#A.# 'The Disconsolate Lady,' The Jovial Rake's Garland, n. d., p. 6, No 4.
#B.# 'Prince Heathen,' Buchan's MSS, I, 97; Motherwell's MS., p. 665.
The fragment #A# (pointed out to me by Svend Grundtvig) is partly explained by #B#, which is no doubt some stall-copy, reshaped from tradition. Motherwell's copy was derived from Buchan.
The story, which reads like an old one extremely corrupted, is none too intelligible even in the longer form. Lady Margery is sitting in her bower-door. Prince Heathen comes by and gives her a ring. She refuses him her love. He swears that he will make her greet; she swears that he shall not. He takes her maidenhead: still she will not greet. He tells her that he has killed her father, mother, and seven brothers: still she will not greet. He puts her in a vault of stone, fastened with five and thirty locks: she will not greet [go, #A#], but rues. He comes back from the mountains, and asks her how she is faring. Dying, she says. He takes her out upon the green, allowing her no female service, and she brings forth a son. How is it with her now? Dying. She asks for a drink of water: he will not give her a drop until she wraps up her young son. She has nothing to wrap the babe in; he gives her his horse-sheet; her tears fall fast. "Bonny may, now you greet!" he exclaims ["will you go now?" #A#]. But she greets not for him; it is for her young son, wrapped so roughly. Prince Heathen, satisfied, as far as we can see, now that he has subdued her proud will, orders his son to be rolled in silk and washed in milk, according to the usage of Scottish nursery: see No 5, #B# 61, #C# 82, 83, #E# 32, #F# 57, #G# 33; No 20, #C# 8; No 63, #B# 35, #C# 35, #F# 22, #J# 47; No 101, #A# 25. Having broken her spirit, he loves her well.
A
The Jovial Rake's Garland, n. d., p. 6, No 4, Bodleian Library, Douce PP, 164.
1 Lady Margery May sits in her bower, Sewing at her seem; By there comes a heathen knight, From her her maidenhead has tane.
2 He has put her in a tower strong, With double locks on fifty doors: 'Lady Margery May, will you ga now?' 'O ye heathen knight, not yet for you.
3 'I am asking, you heathen knight; What I am asking will you grant to me? Will ye let one of your waitmen A drink of your well bring to me?'
4 'Meat nor drink you shall never get, Nor out of that shall you never come, Meat nor drink shall you never get, Until you bear to me daughter or son.'
5 Thus time drew on, and further on, For travail came this young lady to; She travailed up, so did she down, But lighter could she never be.
6 'An asking, an asking, you heathen knight; An asking will you grant to me? Will you give me a scread of silk, For to row your young son wi?'
7 He took the horse-sheet in his hand, The tears came twinkling down: 'Lady Margaret May, will ye ga now?' 'O ye heathen knight, not yet for you.'
8 'I'll wash my young son with the milk, I will dry my young son with the silk; For hearts will break, and bands will bow; So dear will I love my lady now!'
B
Buchan's MSS, I, 97; Motherwell's MS., p. 665.
1 Lady Margaret sat in her bower-door, Sewing at her silken seem, When by it came Prince Heathen then, An gae to her a gay gold ring.
2 He turnd about, an gied a bow; She said, Begone, I love na you; When he sware by his yellow hair That he woud gar her greet fu sair.
3 But she sware by her milk-white skin Prince Heathen shoud gar her greet nane: 'O bonny may, winna ye greet now?' 'Ye heathenish dog, nae yet for you.'
4 He's taen her in his arms twa, Laid her between him an the wa, An ere he let her free again, Her maidenhead frae her he's taen. 'O bonny may, winna ye greet now?' 'Ye heathenish dog, nae yet for you.'
5 'I killd your father in his bed, And your gay mother by his side, And your seven brothers, ane by ane, And they were seven pretty men. O bonny may, winna ye greet now?' 'Ye heathenish dog, nae yet for you.'
6 'I'll put you in a vault o stone, Where five an thirty locks hing on; Naebody there then shall you see, For I will keep the keys wi me. O bonny may, winna ye greet now?' 'Ye heathenish dog, nae yet for you.'
7 He's put her in a vault o stone, Where five an thirty locks hing on; Naebody there coud eer her see, Prince Heathen kept the keys him wi. But ae she cried, What shall I do! The heathenish dog has gart me rue.
8 Prince Heathen from the mountains came, Attended by his armed men, And he's gane to the bonny may, And to the prison where she lay: 'O bonny may, what do you now?' 'Ye heathenish dog, dying for you.'
9 'I'll take you out upon the green, Where women ye shall neer see ane, But only me and my young men, Till ye bring daughter hame or son. O bonny may, what do you now?' 'Ye heathenish dog, dying for you.'
10 He's taen her out upon the green, Where she saw women never ane, But only him and 's merry young men, Till she brought hame a bonny young son. 'O bonny may, what do you now?' 'Ye heathenish dog, dying for you.
11 'A drink, a drink, frae Prince Heathen's hand, Though it were frae yon cauld well strong!' 'O neer a drap, Prince Heathen,' said one, 'Till ye row up your bonny young son.' 'How can I row up my bonny young son, When I hae naething to row him in?'
12 'I will lend you my horse's sheet, That will row him baith head and feet.' As soon's she took it in her han, Tears oer her cheeks down rapping ran. 'O bonny may, ye do greet now:' 'Ye heathenish dog, but nae for you.
13 'But a' is for my bonny young son; Your sheets are rough to row him in; Ohon, alas, sair may I rue That eer I saw such rogues as you!'
14 'Ye'll row my young son in the silk, An ye will wash him wi the milk, An lay my lady very saft, That I may see her very aft.' When hearts are broken, bands will bow; Sae well's he loved his lady now!
* * * * *
#A.#
3^3. writmen.
5^2. too.
#B.#
11^2. wells. _Motherwell MS._ well.
_There are some trifling deviations in Motherwell's copy._
105
THE BAILIFF'S DAUGHTER OF ISLINGTON
#a.# Printed for P. Brooksby, Boxburghe Ballads, II, 457. #b.# Printed for J. Walter, Douce Ballads, II, fol. 229. #c.# Printed for P. Brooksby, Pepys Ballads, III, 258, No 256. #d.# Printed for P. Brooksby, Roxburghe Ballads, IV, 56. #e.# Printed for P. Brooksby, Douce Ballads, II, fol. 230. #f.# An Aldermary Churchyard copy.
Reprinted in Percy's Reliques, III, 133, 1765, from the Pepys copy, #c#, but "with some improvements, communicated by a lady as she heard the same repeated in her youth;" that is, in fact, a few casual verbal variations, attributable to imperfect recollection of a broadside. There are much better in a copy which I have received from an Irish lady, partly made over by secondary tradition. Reprinted also by Ritson, A Select Collection of English Songs, II, 234, 1783, apparently from #a#, with an arbitrary change in st. 8^2, and one or two other variations. Mr F. H. Stoddard informs me that 'The Bailiff's Daughter' is still very much sung, and may be heard any day at a country cricket-match.
A fond youth and a coy maid, a bailiff's daughter, having been parted seven years, the maid disguises herself to go in quest of her lover, and meets him on her way. He asks her whether she knows the bailiff's daughter. The bailiff's daughter is dead long ago, she replies. Then he will go into a far country. The maid, assured of his faith, reveals herself, and is ready to be his bride.
This is the counterpart of a ballad found in other languages (and represented in English by Percy's cento 'The Friar of Orders Gray,' Reliques, I, 225, 1765), in which a man tells a woman that the object of her affection, lover, or more commonly husband, is dead. So runs the story in the following:
#Italian.# Marcoaldi, Canti popolari umbri, etc., p. 151, 'La prova d'amore,' Piedmontese; Gianandrea, C. p. marchigiani, p. 270, No 7, 'La prova d'amore;' Ferraro, C. p. monferrini, p. 60, No 41, 'Il ritorno,' and C. p. di Ferrara, Cento e Pontelagoscuro, p. 16, No 4, p. 105, No 18; Bernoni, C. p. veneziani, Punt. IX, No 1, 'Il ritorno dalla guerra;' Wolf, Volkslieder aus Venetien, No 91, 'La ragazza ed i soldati;' Bolza, Canzoni p. comasche, No 53, 'Il riconoscimento;' Finamore, Storie p. abruzzesi, Archivio, I, 91, No 6, 'Rusine e Ddiamóre;' Kestner, in Reifferscheid, Westfälische V. 1., p. 156, Roman.
#Spanish.# 'Caballero de lejas tierras,' Juan de Ribera, Nueve Romances, 1605, in Duran, I, 175, No 318, Wolf y Hofmann, Primavera, II, 88, No 156, and a traditional version in a note of Duran, as above, repeated in Primavera. #Catalan.# 'La vuelta del peregrino,' Milá, Observaciones, p. 111, No 12, 'El peregrino,' Romancerillo, p. 154, No 203; 'La tornada del pelegrí,' Briz, V, 65.
#Portuguese.# 'Bella Infanta,' Almeida-Garrett, II, 7; Bellermann, p. 100, No 12; Braga, C. p. do Archipelago açoriano, p. 298, No 41, Romanceiro Geral, p. 1, 'Dona Infanta,' p. 4, 'Dona Catherina;' Coelho, in Zeitschrift für romanische Philologie, III, 63, 1879 (imperfect).
#Romaic.# 'Ἡ αναγνωρισις,' Zambelios, p. 718, No 5, Kind, Anthologie, 1861, p. 126, No 5, Passow, No 442: 'Ἡ πιστη συζυγος,' Evlambios, p. 58, Marcellus, I, 332, Passow, No 444; Tommaseo, III, 148, Passow, No 445, and III, 150, Passow, No 446; Schmidt, Griechische M., S., u. V. 1., p. 192, No 57 (see note, p. 272); Marcellus, I, 328, Passow, No 441; 'Αναγνωρισμος,' Chasiotis, p. 89, No 28; Aravandinos, Nos 347-349, pp. 209-211; 'Το γυρισμα,' Oikonomides, p. 132; Jeannaraki, p. 237, No 300, with perverted conclusion; Fauriel, II, 396, Passow, No 447 (fragment). Aravandinos, No 348, is translated by Miss Garnett, Greek Folk Songs, p. 163.
* * * * *
Translated by Bodmer, I, 82; Döring, p. 85; Arndt, p. 193; Von Marées, p. 45; Knortz, Lieder u. Romanzen Alt-Englands, No 64.
1 There was a youth, and a well belovd youth, And he was a esquire's son, He loved the bayliff's daughter dear, That lived in Islington.
2 She was coy, and she would not believe That he did love her so, No, nor at any time she would Any countenance to him show.
3 But when his friends did understand His fond and foolish mind, They sent him up to fair London, An apprentice for to bind.
4 And when he had been seven long years, And his love he had not seen, 'Many a tear have I shed for her sake When she little thought of me.'
5 All the maids of Islington Went forth to sport and play; All but the bayliff's daughter dear; She secretly stole away.
6 She put off her gown of gray, And put on her puggish attire; She's up to fair London gone, Her true-love to require.
7 As she went along the road, The weather being hot and dry, There was she aware of her true-love, At length came riding by.
8 She stept to him, as red as any rose, And took him by the bridle-ring: 'I pray you, kind sir, give me one penny, To ease my weary limb.'
9 'I prithee, sweetheart, canst thou tell me Where that thou wast born?' 'At Islington, kind sir,' said she, 'Where I have had many a scorn.'
10 'I prithee, sweetheart, canst thou tell me Whether thou dost know The bailiff's daughter of Islington?' 'She's dead, sir, long ago.'
11 'Then will I sell my goodly steed, My saddle and my bow; I will into some far countrey, Where no man doth me know.'
12 'O stay, O stay, thou goodly youth! She's alive, she is not dead; Here she standeth by thy side, And is ready to be thy bride.'
13 'O farewel grief, and welcome joy, Ten thousand times and more! For now I have seen my own true-love, That I thought I should have seen no more.'
* * * * *
#a-f.#
True Love Requited, or, The Bayliff's Daughter of Islington.
The young man's friends the maid did scorn, Cause she was poor, and left forlorn; They sent the esquire to London fair, To be an apprentice seven year. And when he out on 's time was come, He met his love, a going home, And then, to end all further strife, He took the maid to be his wife.
To a North Countrey Tune, or, I have a good old mother at home.
#e#, #f# _have_ of's, of his, _in verse 5_.
#a.#
8^2. bridal ring, _and so all but_ #f#.
_At the end:_ Printed for P. Brooksby, at the Golden Ball in Pye-Corner. _Brooksby printed 1672-95: Chappell._
#b.#
1^2, a squire's.
Printed for J. Walter, at the Golden Bal[l] in Pye-Corner. _J. Walter's time is 1690-1720: Chappell._
#c.#
1^2, a _wanting_.
6^2. her _wanting_.
Printed for P. Brooksby, at the Golden Ball in Py-Corner.
#d.#
3^4. a apprentice.
6^2. her _wanting_.
9^2. was.
12^1. thou well belovd.
Printed for P. Brooksby, at the Golden Ball in West Smithfield.
#e.#
3^1. a apprentice.
6^2. her _wanting_.
6^4. inquire.
8^2. a penny.
9^2. was.
11^1. I sell _wanting_.
12^1. thou well belovd.
Printed for P. Brooksby, at the Golde[n] Ball, near the Bear Tavern, in Pye Corner.
#f.#
1^1. was was youth.
1^2. a squire's.
2^1. He was.
2^3. would she.
5^1. When all... of fair.
6^2. her ragged.
6^3. And she is.
6^4. After her... enquire.
7^1. And as.
8^1. a rose.
8^2. bridle.
8^4. For to.
9^2. Whereat.
10^2. Whether that.
11^1. I will.
11^3. And travel into.
13^3. I see.
13^4. should neer see more.
Printed and sold in Aldermary Churchyard, Bow Lane, London. "_1700, or a little later_."
106
THE FAMOUS FLOWER OF SERVING-MEN
#a.# Wood, E. 25, fol. 75, Bodleian Library. #b.# Pepys, III, 142, No 140, Magdalen College Library, Cambridge. #c.# A Collection of Old Ballads, I, 216, 1723.
This ballad was given in Percy's Reliques, III, 87, 1765, "from a written copy, containing some improvements (perhaps modern ones)." These improvements are execrable in style and in matter, so far as there is new matter, but not in so glaring contrast with the groundwork as literary emendations of traditional ballads. Ritson reprinted in A Select Collection of English Songs, II, 244, 1783, some broadside like that which was followed by #c#.[169]
'Sweet Willie' in Kinloch MSS, V, 407 and VII, 197 (the latter printed in Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 96), and also a fragment with the same title in the Harris MS., fol. 20 f, No 15, are derived from the broadside through recitation. A copy in Buchan's MSS, I, 150, is taken directly from print.
In other cases portions of the broadside appear to have entered into combination with traditional verses belonging to some other story, or possibly to some older form of this.
The Dean of Derry communicated to Percy in 1776 the following stanzas, which he wrote down from the recitation of his mother, Mrs Barnard, wife of the Bishop of Derry.[170]
1 My mother showd me a deadly spight; She sent three thieves at darksome night; They put my servants all to flight, They robd my bower, and they slew my knight.
2 They could not do me much more harm, But they slew my baby on my arm; They left me nothing to wrap it in But the bloody, bloody sheet that it lay in.
3 They left me nothing to make a grave But the bloody sword that slew my babe; All alone the grave I made, And all alone salt tears I shed.
4 All alone the bell I rung, And all alone sweet psalms I sung; I leant my head against a block, And there I cut my lovely locks.
5 I cut my locks, and chang'd my name From Fair Eleanore to Sweet William.
Scott inserted in his Border Minstrelsy, III, 83, 1803, seven stanzas under the title of 'The Lament of the Border Widow,' which show broader traces of the sheet-ballad (1-3), and also, as Aytoun has remarked, agreements with 'The Three Ravens' and with 'Fair Helen of Kirconnell' (5-7). 'The Lament of the Border Widow,' "obtained from recitation in the Forest of Ettrick," has been thought to relate to the execution of Cokburne, a border-freebooter, by James V. Those who are interested in such random inventions (as, under pardon, they must be called) will find particulars in Scott's introduction, and a repetition of the same in Maidment's Scotish Ballads and Songs, Historical and Traditionary, II, 170.[171]
1 My love he built me a bonny bower, And clad it a' wi lilye-flour; A brawer bower ye neer did see Than my true-love he built for me.
2 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.
3 He slew my knight, to me sae dear; He slew my knight, and poind his gear; My servants all for life did flee, And left me in extremitie.
4 I sewd his sheet, making my mane; I watched the corpse, myself alane; I watched his body, night and day; No living creature came that way.
5 I took his body on my back, And whiles I gaed, and whiles I sate; I diggd a grave, and laid him in, And happd him with the sod sae green.
6 But think na ye my heart was sair, When I laid the moul on his yellow hair? O think na ye my heart was wae, When I turnd about, away to gae?
7 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 evermair.
Again, there are six couplets in Johnson's Museum, p. 90, No 89, called, from the burden, 'Oh ono chrio,' which have a little of The Border Widow, and incidentally of The Flower of Serving-Men, winding up with sentiments of transcendent elegance.
Oh was I not a weary wight, Maid, wife and widow in one night!
When in my soft and yielding arms, When most I thought him free from harms,
Even at the dead time of the night, They broke my bower, and slew my knight.
With ae lock of his jet-black hair I'll tye my heart for ever mair.
Nae sly-tongued youth, or flattering swain, Shall eer untye this knott again.
Thine still, dear youth, that heart shall be, Nor pant for aught save heaven and thee.
"Dr Blacklock informed Burns that this song... was composed on the horrid massacre at Glencoe": Stenhouse's note, IV, 92.
* * * * *
The English broadside, which may reasonably be believed to be formed upon a predecessor in the popular style, has been held to have a common origin with the Scandinavian ballad 'Maid and Stable Boy,' already spoken of under 'Child Waters' at p. 84f of this volume. The points of resemblance are that a maid cuts her hair, dons man's clothes, and seeks service with a king. In the end she is married to the king's son, or to a nobleman of his court. The differences, in other respects, are considerable.
Percy's ballad is translated by Bodmer, I, 160; by Merk, Ursinus, p. 79, and Bothe, p. 307; by Döring, p. 329.
1 You beautious ladies, great and small, I write unto you one and all, Whereby that you may understand What I have suffered in this land.
2 I was by birth a lady fair, My father's chief and onely heir, But when my good old father dy'd, Then was I made a young knight's bride.
3 And then my love built me a bower, Bedeckt with many a fragrant flower; A braver bower you never did see Then my true-love did build for me.
4 But there came thieves late in the night, They rob'd my bower, and slew my knight, And after that my knight was slain, I could no longer there remain.
5 My servants all from me did flye, In the midst of my extremity, And left me by my self alone, With a heart more cold then any stone.
6 Yet, though my heart was full of care, Heaven would not suffer me to despair; Wherefore in hast I chang'd my name From Fair Elise to Sweet William.
7 And therewithal I cut my hair, And drest my self in man's attire, My doublet, hose, and bever-hat, And a golden band about my neck.
8 With a silver rapier by my side, So like a gallant I did ride; The thing that I delighted on, Was for to be a serving-man.
9 Thus in my sumptuous man's array, I bravely rode along the way; And at the last it chanced so That I unto the king's court did go.
10 Then to the king I bowed 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.
11 'Stand up, brave youth, the king replyd, 'Thy service shall not be denyd; But tell me first what thou canst do; Thou shalt be fitted thereunto.
12 'Wilt thou be usher of my hall, To wait upon my nobles all? Or wilt thou be taster of my wine, To wait on me when I shall dine?
13 'Or wilt thou be my chamberlain, To make my bed both soft and fine? Or wilt thou be one of my guard? And I will give thee thy reward.'
14 Sweet William, with a smiling face, Said to the king, If't please your grace To show such favour unto me, Your chamberlain I fain would be.
15 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.
16 Now mark what strange things came to pass; As the king one day a hunting was, With all his lords and noble train, Sweet William did at home remain.
17 Sweet William had no company then With him at home but an old man; And when he saw the coast was clear, He took a lute which he had there.
18 Upon the lute Sweet William plaid, And to the same he sung and said, With a pleasant and most noble voice, Which made the old man to rejoyce:
19 'My father was as brave a lord As ever Europe did afford; My mother was a lady bright, My husband was a valiant knight.
20 'And I my self a lady gay, Bedeckt with gorgeous rich array; The bravest lady in the land Had not more pleasures to command.
21 'I had my musick every day, Harmonious lessons for to play; I had my virgins fair and free, Continually to wait on me.
22 'But now, alas! my husband's dead, And all my friends are from me fled; My former joys are past and gone, For now I am a serving-man.'
23 At last the king from hunting came, And presently upon the same He called for the good old man, And thus to speak the king began.
24 'What news, what news, old man?' quod he; 'What news hast thou to tell to me?' 'Brave news,' the old man he did say; 'Sweet William is a lady gay.'
25 'If this be true thou tellest me I'le make thee a lord of high degree; But if thy words do prove a lye, Thou shalt be hanged up presently.'
26 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.
27 Therefore the king without delay Put on her glorious rich array, And upon her head a crown of gold, Which was most famous to behold.
28 And then, for fear of further strife, He took Sweet William for his wife; The like before was never seen, A serving-man to be a queen.
* * * * *
#a.#
Printed for J. Hose, next door but one to the Rose Inn, near Holbourn-bridge. John Hose, over against Staples-Inn, near Gray's Inn Lane, _printed, according to Chappell_, 1660-1675.
#b.#
Printed for W. Thackeray and T. Passinger. W. Thackeray's _date, Chappell, is_ 1660-1689; T. Passinger's, 1670-1682.
#a#, #b# _have for title and preface_:
The Famous Flower of Serving-men, or, The Lady turnd Serving-man.
Her lover being slain, her father dead, Her bower robd, her servants fled, She drest her self in mans attire, She trim'd her locks, she cut her hair, And therupon she changde her name From Fair Elise to Sweet William.
To a dainty tune, or Flora Farewel, Summer-Time, or Love's Tide.
_Before 19_: Sweet William's Song.
_After 22_: The end of Sweet William's Song.
#a.#
_After 8_: The Second Part, to the same tune.
#b.#
8^4. It was to.
12^4. I do.
20^4. pleasure.
#c.#
2^4. I was.
8^4. It was to.
9^4. I to.
12^4. I do.
16^1. thing.
17^3. the house.
18^3. a sweet and noble voice.
20^4. pleasure.
23^3. this good.
25^1. tellst to.
[169] Heber had a copy printed by J. Andrews, who flourished 1655-60.
[170] Mrs Barnard makes this note: I remember to have seen a printed ballad, at least seventy years since, in which this was containd, as sung by a youth, overheard by a king he servd, and exalted to become his queen. I fancy these scenes were in Germany, by the names.--Percy regards the verses as a "fragment of an older copy than that printed of 'The Lady turnd Serving-Man.'"
[171] The Border Widow's Lament has received extraordinary favor. It has been translated by Schubart, p. 209; Talvj, Charakteristik, p. 570; Fiedler, Geschichte der schottischen Liederdichtung, p. 29; Freiligrath, Zwischen den Garben, II, 229, Stuttgart, 1877; Doenniges, p. 77; Knortz, L. u. R. Alt-Englands, p. 195, No 58. Cunningham furbished up the verses a little in The Songs of Scotland, II, 97. The copy in Chambers's Scottish Songs, I, 174, is Cunningham's, all but the sixth stanza, which is from Scott.--A great deal of nonsense passes in ballads, but I am impelled to ask just here how a lover would go about to clothe a bower with lily-flower. Is the ballad lily a climbing plant?
107
WILL STEWART AND JOHN
#A.# 'Will Stewart and John,' Percy Manuscript, p. 428; Hales and Furnivall, III, 216.
#B.# 'Tring Dilly,' Campbell's MSS, II, 30.
The fragment #B# is disordered as well as mutilated. #B# 1 corresponds to #A# 18, 13; 2 to 14; 3 to 19, 40; 4 to 41, 42; 5 to 43; 6 to 35, 36; 7 to 17. It is simply a confused recollection of some parts of the ballad.
The first stanza furnishes a sort of general lyrical introduction, and does not belong to the story, to which, as I conceive, the circumstance that Adlatts Park is wide and broad is of no more special pertinence than the other which follows, that grass grows green in our countrye. See I, 7, note.
Will Stewart, of Argyle Castle, languishes with love for the Earl of Mar's daughter, and lies in care-bed. His younger brother, John, a wiser man, offers to go a-wooing for his brother, and to forward his object takes service with the Earl of Mar as chamberlain to his daughter. One Sunday, as John is conveying the lady home from church, he makes known to her that he is a messenger. The lady at first, like Shakspere's Olivia, would rather he should speak for himself, but upon hearing what John has to say for his brother is ready to love Will heartily. She bids her lover come with a hundred men to a foot-ball match on Sunday after St Andrew's day. He must play sixteen games, and if he win the greater part she shall love him the more. This tidings makes Will Stewart leap from care-bed. He chooses a hundred men from eleven score and three, dresses them in green, himself in scarlet (about which the lady had been particular), meets his mistress at the rendezvous, gives her a kiss of courtesy, and wins twelve of the sixteen games. The Earl of Mar invites Will to his house, where the Stewart avows his love for his daughter; he knows not whether the lady loves him. "God forbid!" exclaims the earl. "I would rather thou wert hanged or burned. To thy chamber, lady, or I will beat thee before the Stewart's eye." Will, with John, who renounces Mar's service, returns to Argyle Castle, and Will leaps into care-bed again. A parliament is held at Edinburgh, to which both brothers are summoned. Mar discovers that Will is an earl's son, and even the king's cousin, but this discovery has no effect to change the mind of the peremptory nobleman. Will and John go back to Argyle Castle when the parliament is done, and Will once more leaps into care-bed. John, in great concern for his brother, offers to go a-wooing for him again. He disguises himself as a beggar, comes to Mar's house on a dole-day, makes his way to the lady and sticks by her till all the beggars are gone, and then tells her that he is no beggar, but a messenger. The lady, reproached for her cruelty, says the blame is not hers, and appoints Will to meet her within three days at Martinsdale with a hundred men, they and he dressed as before. Will leaps out of care-bed, chooses a hundred of the best out of eleven score men and three, rides to Martinsdale, and finds the true lady waiting for him. They send for priest and clerk and are married, and she goes home with Will. A twelvemonth after, John is despatched to bid the Earl of Mar to a christening. John frightens the earl with an intimation that his daughter will now be returned on his hands. This brings the wilful father round. The marriage ceremony is performed over again, and Will made Earl of Mar.
As Mr Hales has remarked, Bishop Percy's Folio Manuscript, III, 215, the allusions to manners and customs are highly interesting: as, to foot-ball matches, 27; to the kiss of courtesy, 35^3; to the beating of daughters, 42^4, 43^3; to the dole-day, 66^2; to the beggar's dress and equipment, 61, 78^3.
The superfluous _that_ in 3^4, 16^3, 18^4, 38^1, 68^1, 89^2, is common in the ballads of the Percy manuscript.
A
Percy MS., p. 428; Hales and Furnivall, III, 216.
1 Adlatts parke is wyde and broad, And grasse growes greene in our countrye; Eche man can gett the loue of his ladye, But alas, I can gett none of mine!
2 Itt's by two men I sing my song, Their names is "W_i_ll_iam_ Stewart and Iohn; Will_iam_ he is the elder brother, But Iohn hee is the wiser man.
3 But Will_iam_ he is in care-bed layd, And for the loue of a ffaire ladye; If he haue not the loue of the Erle of Mar's daughter, In ffaith ffor loue _tha_t he must dye.
4 Then Iohn was sorry ffor his brother, To see him lye and languish soe: 'What doe you mourne for, brother?' he saies, 'I pray you tell to me yo_u_r woe.
5 'Doe [you] mourne for gold, brother?' he saies, 'Or doe you mourne ffor ffee? Or doe you mourne for a likesome ladye, You neuer saw her w_i_th yo_u_r eye?'
6 'I doe not mourne for gold,' he saies, 'Nor I doe not mourne for any ffee; But I doe mourne for a likesome ladye, I neere blinke on her w_i_th mine eye.'
7 'But when haruest is gotten, my deere brother-- All this is true _tha_t I tell thee-- Gentlemen, they loue hunting well, And giue wight-men their cloth and ffee.
8 'Then I'le goe a wooing ffor thy sake, In all the speed _tha_t I can gone, And for to see this likesome ladye, And hope to send thee good tydings home.'
9 Iohn Stewart is gone a wooing for his brother, Soe ffarr into ffaire Scottland, And left his brother in mikle ffeare, Vntill he heard the good tydand.
10 And when he came to the Erle of Mar's his house, Soe well he could his curtesye, And when he came before the erle, He kneeled low downe vpon his knee.
11 'O rise vp, rise vp, Iohn Steward, Rise vp, now, I doe bidd thee; How doth thy ffather, Iohn Stewart, And all the lords in his countrye?'
12 'And itt please you, my lo_rd_, my ffather is dead; My brother and I cannott agree; My brother and I am ffallen att discord, And I am come to craue a service of thee.'
13 'O welcome, welcome, Iohn Stewart, A welcome man thou art to me; I'le make thee chamberlaine to my daughter, And ffor to tend of _tha_t ladye soe ffree.
14 'And if thou wilt haue a better office, Aske, and thou shall haue itt of mee; And where I giue other men a penny of wage, Inffaith, Iohn, thou shalt haue three.'
15 And then bespake him Iohn Stewart, And these were the words said hee: There is no office in your court This day _tha_t better pleaseth mee.
16 The Ffryday is gone, the Sunday is come-- All this is true _tha_t I doe say-- And to the church that they be gone, Iohn Stewart and the lady gay.
17 And as they did come home againe-- I-wis itt was a meeten mile-- Iohn Stewart and the lady gay, They thought itt but a [little] while.
18 'I am a messenger, ladye,' he saies, 'I am a messenger to thee:' 'O speake ffor thy selfe, Iohn Stewart,' shee saies, 'A welcome man _tha_t thou shalt bee.'
19 'Nay, by my ffaith,' saies Iohn Stewart, 'W_hi_ch euer, alas, _tha_t may not bee! He hath a higher degree in honour, Allas, ladye, then euer I!
20 'He is a lo_rd_ now borne by birth, And an erle affter his ffather doth dye; His haire is yellow, his eyes beene gray; All this is true _tha_t I tell yee.
21 'He is ffine in the middle, and small in the wast, And pleasant in a woman's eye; And more nor this, he dyes for yo_u_r loue, Therefore, lady, show some pittye.'
22 'If this be soe,' then saies the lady, 'If this be true _tha_t thou tells mee, By my ffaith then, Iohn Stewart, I can loue him hartilye.
23 'Bidd him meete me att S^t Patr[i]cke's Church On Sunday after S^t Andrew's day; The fflower of Scottland will be there, And then begins our summer's play.
24 'And bidd him bring with him a hundred gunners, And rawnke ryders lett them bee, And lett them bee of the rankest ryders _Tha_t be to be ffound in _tha_t countrye.
25 'They best and worst, and all in like, Bidd him cloth them in one liuerye; And ffor his men, greene is the best, And greene now lett their liueryes bee.
26 'And clothe himselfe in scarlett redd, _Tha_t is soe seemlye ffor to see; Ffor scarlett is a ffaire coulour, And pleasant allwayes in a woman's eye.
27 'He must play sixteene games att ball, Against the men of this countrye, And if he winn the greater p_ar_t, Then I shall love him more tenderlye.'
28 What the lady said, Iohn Stewart writt, And to Argyle Castle sent it hee; And [when] Willie Steward saw the letter, Fforth of care-bed then lope hee.
29 Hee mustered together his merry men all, Hee mustered them soe louelilye; Hee thought hee had had scarson halfe a hundred, Then had hee eleuen score and three.
30 He chose fforth a hundred of the best _Tha_t were to be ffound in _tha_t countrye, He cladd them all in one coulour, And greene i-wis their liueryes bee.
31 He cladd himselfe in scarlett redd, _Tha_t is soe seemelye ffor to see; Ffor scarlett is a ffaire coulor, And seemlye in a woman's eye.
32 And then towards Patricke Church he went, With all his men in braue array, To gett a sight, if he might, And speake with his lady gay.
33 When they came to Patricke's churche, Shee kneeled downe by her mother trulye: 'O mother, if itt please you to glue me leaue, The Stewart's horsse ffaine wold I see.'
34 'I'le giue you leaue, my deere daughter, And I and my maide will goe with yee:' The lady had rather haue gone her selfe Then haue had her mother's companye.
35 When they came before Willie Steward, Soe well hee cold his curtesye: 'I wold kisse yo_u_r daughter, ladye,' he said, 'And if yo_u_r will _tha_t soe itt bee.'
36 The ladye's mother was content To doe a straunger _tha_t curtesye; And when Willie had gotten a kisse, I-wis shee might haue teemed him three.
37 Sixteen games were plaid _tha_t day there there-- This is the truth as I doe say-- Willie Stewart and his merry men, Thé carryed twelue of them away.
38 And when they games _tha_t they were done, And all they ffolkes away were gone But the Erle of Marr and Will_iam_ Stewart, The erle wold needs haue Will_iam_ home.
39 And when they came vnto the erle's howse, They walked to a garden greene; Ffor to confferr of their bussines, Into the garden they be gone.
40 'I loue your daughter,' saies Will_iam_ Stewart, 'But I cannott tell whether she loueth mee:' 'Marry, God defend,' saies the Erle of Mar, '_That_ euer soe _tha_t itt shold bee!
41 'I had rather a gallowes there was made, And hange thee ffor my daughter's sake; I had rather a ffyer were made att a stake, And burne thee ffor my daughter's sake!
42 'To chamber, to chamber, gay ladye,' he saies, 'In the deuill's name now I bidd thee! And thou gett thee not to the chamber soone, I'le beate thee before the Stewart's eye.'
43 And then bespake Will_iam_ Stewart, These were the words said hee: 'If thou beate thy daughter for my sake, Thou'st beate a hundred men and mee.'
44 Then bespake Iohn Stewart-- L_ord!_ an angry man was hee-- 'O churle, if thou wouldest not haue macht with my brother, Thou might haue answerd him curteouslye.'
45 'O hold thy peace, Iohn Stewart, And chamber thy words now, I bidd thee; If thou chamber not thy words soone, Thou'st loose a good service; soe shalt thou doe me.'
46 'Marry! hang them _tha_t cares,' saies Iohn Stewart, 'Either ffor thy service or ffor thee; Services can I haue enoughe, But brethren wee must euer bee.'
47 Will_iam_ Stewart and his brother Iohn, To Argyle Castle gon they bee; And when Willye came to Argyle Castle, Into care-bedd then lope hee.
48 A parlaiment att Edenborrow was made, The k_ing_ and his nobles all mett there; Thé sent ffor Will_iam_ Stewart and Iohn, To come amongst the other peeres.
49 Their clothing was of Scarlett redd, _Tha_t was soe seemelye ffor to see; Blacke hatts, white ffeathers plewed with gold, And sett all on their heads trulye.
50 Their stockings were of twisted silke, W_i_th garters ffringed about with gold; Their shoes were of the cordevine, And all was comelye to behold.
51 And when they came to Edenborrowe, They called ffor Iohn Stew_art_ and Willie: 'I answer in a _lord_'s roome,' saies Will Stewart, 'But an erle I hope to bee.'
52 'Come downe, come downe,' saies the Lo_rd_ of Marr, 'I knew not what was thy degree:' 'O churle, if I might not haue macht w_i_th thy daughter, Itt had not beene long of my degree.
53 'My ffather, hee is the k_ing_ his brother, And then the k_ing_ is vnckle to me; O churle, if I might not haue macht with thy daughter, Itt had not beene long of my degree.'
54 'O hold yo_u_r peace,' then sayd the k_ing_, 'Cozen William, I doe bidd thee; Infaith, cozen Will_iam_, he loues you the worsse Because you are a-kinn to mee.
55 'I'le make thee an erle with a siluer wande, And adde more honors still to thee; Thy brother Iohn shall be a lord, Of the best att home in his countrye.
56 'Thy brother Kester shalbe a k_nigh_t, Lands and liuings I will him giue, And still hee shall liue in court w_i_th mee, And I'le maintaine him whilest he doth liue.'
57 And when the p_ar_laiment was done, And all the ffolkes away were gone, Willye Stewart and Iohn his brother, To Argyle Castle they be gone.
58 But when they came to Argyle Castle, That was soe ffarr in _tha_t countrye, He thought soe much then of his loue _Tha_t into care-bedd then lope hee.
59 Iohn Stewart did see his brother soe ill, Lo_rd_, in his heart _tha_t hee was woe! 'I will goe wooing for thy sake Againe yonder gay ladye to.
60 'I'le cloth my selfe in strange array, In a beggar's habbitt I will goe, _Tha_t when I come before the Erle of Marr My clothing strange he shall not knowe.'
61 Iohn hee gott on a clouted cloake, Soe meete and low then by his knee, W_i_th four garters vpon one legg, Two aboue, and towe below trulye.
62 'But if thou be a beggar, brother, Thou art a beggar _tha_t is vnknowne; Ffor thou art one of the stoutest beggars _Tha_t euer I saw since I was borne.
63 'Heere, geeue the lady this gay gold ringe, A token to her _tha_t well is knowne; And if shee but aduise itt well, Shee'le know some time itt was her owne.'
64 'Stay, by my ffaith, I goe not yett,' Iohn Stew_art_ he can replye; 'I'le haue my bottle ffull of beere, The best _tha_t is in thy butterye.
65 'I'le haue my sachell ffilld full of meate, I am sure, brother, [it] will doe noe harme; Ffor, before I come to the Erle of Marr's his house, My lipps, I am sure, they wilbe warme.'
66 And when he came to the Erle of Marr's house, By chance itt was of the dole-day; But Iohn cold ffind no place to stand, Vntill he came to the ladye gaye.
67 But many a beggar he threw downe, And made them all with weeping say, He is the devill, hee is no beggar, _Tha_t is come fforth of some strange countrye.
68 And now the dole _tha_t itt is delte, And all the beggars be gon away, Sauing Iohn Stewart, _tha_t seemed a beggar, And the ladye _tha_t was soe gay.
69 'Lady,' sais Iohn, 'I am no beggar, As by my clothes you may thinke _tha_t I bee; I am yo_u_r servant, Iohn Stewart, And I am sent a messenger to thee.'
70 'But if thou be Iohn Stewart, As I doe thinke _tha_t thou bee, Avayle thy capp, avayle thy hoode, And I will stand and speake to thee.
71 'How doth thy brother, Iohn Stewart, And all the lo_rd_s in his countrye?' 'O ffye vpon thee, wicked woman! My brother he doth the worsse ffor thee.'
72 W_i_th _tha_t the teares stood in her eyes; O lord, shee wept soe tenderlye! Sais, Ligg the blame vnto my ffather; I pray you, Iohn Stew_art_, lay itt not to mee.
73 Comend me to my owne true-loue, _Tha_t liues soe farr in the North countrye, And bidd him meete me att Martingsdale, Ffullye w[i]thin these dayes three.
74 Hang them, sais the lady gay, _Tha_t letts their ffather witting bee! I'le proue a ladye ffull of loue, And be there by the sunn be a quarter highe.
75 And bidd him bring with him a hundred gunners, And ranke riders lett them bee; Lett them be of the rankest ryders _Tha_t be to be ffound in _tha_t countrye.
76 The best and worse, and all in like, Bidd him clothe them in one liuerye; And for his men, greene is the best, And greene now lett their lyueryes bee.
77 And cloth himselfe in scarlett redd, _Tha_t is soe seemelye for to see; For scarlett is a ffaire coulor, And pleasant in a woman's eye.
78 What they lady sayd, Iohn Stewart writt, To Argyle Castle sent itt hee; His bagg and his dish and showing horne, Unto three beggars he gaue them all three.
79 And when Willie Stewart saw the letter, Fforth of care-bed then lope hee; He thought himselfe as lustye and sound As any man in _tha_t countrye.
80 He mustered together his merrymen all, He mustered them soe louinglye; He thought he had had scarce halfe a hundred, Then had hee eleuen score and three.
81 He chose fforth a hundred of the best _Tha_t were to be found in _tha_t companye, And p_re_sentlye they tooke their horsse, And to Martingsdale posted hee.
82 And when he came to Martingsdale, He found his loue staying there trulye, For shee was a lady true of loue, And was there by [the] sunn was a qwarter highe.
83 Shee kisst Will_iam_ Stewart and his brother Iohn, Soe did shee p_ar_t of his merry men: 'If the churle, thy ffather, hee were here, He shold not haue thee backe againe.'
84 They sent ffor preist, they sent ffor clarke, And they were marryed there w_i_th speede; Will_iam_ tooke the lady home with him, And they liued together long time indeed.
85 And in twelue monthe soe they wrought, The lady shee was great w_i_th childe; The sent Iohn Stewart to the Erle off Marre, To come and christen the barne soe milde.
86 'And if this be soe,' sayes the Erle of Marre, 'Iohn Stewart, as thou tells mee, I hope in God you haue marryed my daughter, And put her bodye to honestye.'
87 'Nay, by my ffaith,' then saies Iohn Stewart, 'Ffor euer alas _tha_t shall not bee; Ffor now wee haue put her body to shame, Thou 'st haue her againe hame to thee.'
88 'I had rather make thee Erle of Marre, And marry my daughter vnto thee; For by my ffaith,' sais the Erle of Marr, 'Her marryage is marrd in our countrye.'
89 'If this be soe,' then sais Iohn Stewart, 'A marryage soone _tha_t thou shalt see; Ffor my brother William, my ffather's heyre, Shall marry thy daughter before thine eye.'
90 They sent ffor preist, the sent ffor clarke, And marryed there they were with speed; And William Stewart is Erle of Marr, And his ffather-in-law dwells w_i_th him indeed.
B
Campbell MSS, II, 30.
1 'Speak for yoursell, John Stewart,' he did say, 'Speak for yoursell, John Stewart,' he did say, 'Speak for yoursell, John Stewart,' he did say, 'And soon an answer I will gie to thee; The highest service I can give thee Is to wait on my daughter Ailly.
2 ' . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
If ever I gie a man a penny wage, I'm sure, John Stewart, ye shall hae three.'
3 'I speak not for mysell,' John Stewart he did say, 'I speak for a lord of a higher degree; The message is from my brother William, Your loving daughter's husband to be.'
4 ' . . . . . . . . . . . . . . I'll rather beat fair Ailly in my leather bang, As lang as she can either stand or gang.'
5 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 'Ye hadna beat her before my face Or ye'll beat three hundred men and me.'
6 When William came to Mulbery Hall, He kissd the ladies one and all; But when he cam to fair Ailly, She thought he might hae gaen her twa or three.
7 Between the kitchen and the garden It is calld a measured mile; That lady and that lord fell into discourse, And they thought they rode it in a short while.
Chorus: Tring dilly, tring dilly, tring ding dido, Tring dilly, tring dilly, dolo dee.
* * * * *
#A.#
2^1. by 2.
14^4. haue 3.
24^1. a 100.
27^4. love _is written in the MS. by a later hand between_ then _and_ I. _Furnivall._
29^3. a 100^d.
29^4. 11 score.
30^1. a 100.
36^4. him 3.
37^1. 16 games.
37^4. 12 of.
38^3. Marrs.
38^4. & the Erle.
40^3. March.
43^4. a 100^d: men and nee.
44^4. might _has two strokes for the_ i _in the MS. Furnivall_.
48^4. amongst _has four strokes for the_ m _in the MS. Furnivall._
51^3. in L, _MS._ _Furnivall._
52^1. Mars.
60^3. March.
61^3. 4 garters.
61^4. 2 aboue.
73^4. dayes 3.
75^1. a 100^d. Gunners _has_ m _in place of_ nn. _Furnivall._
75^3. _Two or three letters appear one over the other for the_ s _in_ ryders. _Furnivall._
78^4. vnto 3, all 3.
80^3. a 100 d.
80^4. 11 score.
81^1. a 100d.
84^3. n _instead of_ m _in_ home. _Furnivall._
85^1. in 12.
85^4. chrsten.
And _throughout for_ &.
108
CHRISTOPHER WHITE
'Christopher White,' Percy MS., p. 513; Hales and Furnivall, III, 494.
A rich merchant, burgess of Edinburgh, overhears a lady making moan for Christopher White, who is banished from England. He makes her great offers to abandon Christopher and lay her love on him. She resists these offers at first, and tells him that if she is false to Christopher she cannot be true to him. But silver and gold makes her heart turn and makes her leave good company. After she has been married two or three months tidings come to Edinburgh that all the merchants must to sea; it is for service against Spain, 17^4. The lady takes advantage of her husband's absence to write to Christopher; she sends him a hundred pound and bids him come to Edinburgh. Christopher first goes to London and obtains pardon of the king of England, then makes for Edinburgh. The lady tells him that she is a merchant's wife, and he shall have enough of the merchant's gold. Christopher, who seems not till then to have known of her marriage, begins an indignant answer, but the lady cuts him short with an offer to go to England with him. They pack up silver and gold and make off to Little England, whatever that may be (perhaps a Percy MS. phrase: see 'Hugh Spencer,' st. 34). The merchant comes back, and is told that his wife has fled with Christopher. He does not care for the loss of silver and gold, but mourns for the lady, who, he frankly owns, had given him due warning of what he might look for.
* * * * *
1 As I walked fforth one morninge, By one place _tha_t pleased mee, Wherin I heard a wandering wight, Sais, Christopher White is good companye.
2 I drew me neere, and very neere, Till I was as neere as neere cold bee; Loth I was her councell to discreene, Because I wanted companye.
3 'Say on, say on, thou well faire mayd, Why makest thou moane soe heauilye?' Sais, All is ffor one wandering wight, Is banished fforth of his owne countrye.
4 'I am the burgesse of Edenburrow, Soe am I more of townes three; I haue money and gold great store, Come, sweet wench, and ligg thy loue on mee.'
5 The merchant pulled forth a bagg of gold _Wh_ich had hundreds two or three; Sais, Euery day throughout the weeke I'le comt as much downe on thy knee.
6 'O merchant, take thy gold againe, A good liuing 't will purchase thee; If I be ffalse to Chr_istopher_ White, Merchant, I cannott be true to thee.'
7 Sais, I haue halls, soe haue I bowers, Sais, I haue shipps sayling on the sea; I ame the burgess of Edenburrowe; Come, sweete wench, ligge thy loue on mee.
8 Come on, come, thou well faire mayde, Of our matters lett vs goe throughe, For to-morrowe I 'le marry thee, And thy dwelling shalbe in Edenburrough.
9 The lady shee tooke this gold in her hand, The teares thé ffell ffast ffrom her eye; Sais, Siluer and gold makes my hart to turne, And makes me leaue good companye.
10 They had not beene marryed Not ouer monthes two or three, But tydings came to Edenburrowe _That_ all the merchants must to the sea.
11 Then as this lady sate in a deske, Shee made a loue-letter ffull round; She mad a l_ett_re to Chr_istopher_ White, And in itt shee put a hundred pound.
12 She lin'd the letter w_i_th gold soe red, And mony good store in itt was found; Shee sent itt to Chr_istopher_ White, _Tha_t was soe ffar in the Scotts ground.
13 Shee bade him then ffrankely spend, And looke _tha_t hee shold merry bee, And bid him come to Edenburrowe, Now all the merchants be to the sea.
14 But Chr_istopher_ came to leeue London, And there he kneeled lowly downe, And there hee begd his p_ar_don then, Of our noble k_ing tha_t ware the crowne.
15 But when he came to his true-loue's house, W_hi_ch was made both of lime and stone, Shee tooke him by the lily-white hand, Sais, True-loue, you are welcome home!
16 Welcome, my honey, welcome, my ioy, Welcome, my true-loue; home to mee! Ffor thou art hee _tha_t will lengthen my dayes, And I know thou art good companye.
17 Chr_istopher_, I am a merchant's wiffe; Christ_opher_, the more shall be yo_u_r gaine; Siluer and gold you shall haue enough, Of the merchant's gold _tha_t is in Spaine.
18 'But if you be a merchant's wiffe, Something tó much you are to blame; I will thee reade a loue-lett_er_ Shall sture thy stumpes, thou noble dame.
19 'Althoug I be a marchant's wiffe, ... shall ... mine ... and g ... Into England I'le goe w_i_th the.'
20 They packet vp both siluer and plate, Siluer and gold soe great plentye, And they be gon into Litle England, And the marchant must them neu_er_ see.
21 And when the merchants they came home, Their wiues to eche other can say, Heere hath beene good Chr_istopher_ White, And he hath tane thy wiffe away.
22 They haue packett vp spoone and plate, Siluer and gold great plenty, And they be gon into Litle England, And them againe thow must neu_er_ see.
23 'I care nott ffor my siluer and gold, Nor for my plate soe great plentye, But I mourne for _tha_t like-some ladye _Tha_t Chr_istopher_ White hath tane ffrom mee.
24 'But one thing I must needs confesse, This lady shee did say to me, If shee were ffalse to Chr_istopher_ White, Shee cold neu_er_ be true to mee.
25 'All young men a warning take, A warning, looke, you take by mee; Looke _tha_t you loue yo_u_r old loues best, For infaith they are best companye.'
* * * * *
1^1. mornige.
2^3. discreeme.
3^2. thom.
4^2. townes 3.
5^2. 2 or.
9^2. eyes.
10^2. 2 or 3.
11^4. 100^{li}_{:}.
15^4. yo^r are.
16^3. lenghen.
18^3. lert_er_.
18^4. stue thy.
19^{2, 3}. _The MS. is pared away at the bottom of p. 513, and the writing has perished and part of the paper is broken away at the top of p. 514. Furnivall._
20^1. siluer & plate: _see_ 22^1.
And _for_ &, _throughout_.
109
TOM POTTS
#A.# 'Thomas of Potte,' Percy MS., p. 409; Hales and Furnivall, III, 135.
#B.# 'The Lovers Quarrel, or, Cupid's Triumph,' etc. #a.# London, printed for F. Coles, and others, 1677, #b.# Pepys Merriments, I, 189; Ritson, Pieces of Ancient Popular Poetry, p. 115, 1791.
#C.# 'The Two Constant Lovers in Scotland,' etc., broadside of 1657; Ritson's Ancient Songs, 1790, p. 248.
* * * * *
All the copies here printed are of the seventeenth century, and the ballad need not be put much beyond that date. Modernized editions, differing much, were issued in the century following, perhaps earlier, some of which have a Second Part, narrating the happy married life of Tom Potts, Lord Arundel, and Fair Rosamund. See Halliwell's Descriptive Notices of Popular English Histories, p. 17, No 15, Percy Society, vol. xxiii, and the notes to #B#.
Unequal matches are common enough in ballads and romances, and very naturally, since they are an easy expedient for exciting interest, at least with those who belong to the humbler party. We have other ballad-examples of disparagement on the female side in 'The Bonny Foot-Boy' and 'Ritchie Storie.' No offence seems to be given when King Cophetua weds the Beggar-Maid, but when the Lady of the Strachy marries the Yeoman of the Wardrobe good taste is shocked. Such events would be celebrated only by fellows of the yeoman or of the foot-boy, and surely in the present case the minstrel was not much above the estate of the serving-man. Lord Jockey's reckless liberality throughout, and Lord Phenix's in the end, is a mark of the serving-man's ideal nobleman.
Tom Potts stanches his blood with a charm in #A# 75^4, #B# 82^4, just as the sons of Autolycus do that of Ulysses in Odyssey XIX, 457 f. His rejecting of his master's thirty fine horses in favor of the old white cut-tail is a ludicrous repetition of Hugh Spencer's preference of the hack he had brought over sea, and Walter of Aquitaine's predilection for his worn-out charger. See, further on, 'Hugh Spencer's Feats in France.'
There is a Lord Phenix in a sufficiently absurd ballad in Motherwell's MS., 'Jamie o Lee,' p. 654; an English nobleman who steals the Queen of Scotland's jewels and lays the blame on Jamie o Lee, a page of fifteen years, being himself, for rhyme's sake, thretty three. The page worsts his accuser in a duel and makes him confess.
Mr Macmath notes for me that Swift, in The Tale of a Tub (written about 1696), having associated Dryden's Hind and Panther with Tom Thumb, Whittington and his Cat, and other "prime productions of our society," adduces Tommy Potts as "another piece, supposed by the same hand, by way of supplement to the former:" Scott's edition, XI, 72.
The message to Strawberry Castle occurs also in No 65, #D#, #E#, #F#, and No 87 #C#.
* * * * *
#B# is translated by Bothe, p. 315.
A
Percy MS., p. 409; Hales and Furnivall, III, 135.
1 All you lords of Scottland ffaire, And ladyes alsoe, bright of blee, There is a ladye amongst them all, Of her report you shall heare of me.
2 Of her bewtye shee is soe bright, And of her colour soe bright of blee; Shee is daughter to the Lord Arrndell, His heyre apparrant ffor to bee.
3 'I'le see _tha_t bryde,' Lo_rd_ Phenix sayes, '_Tha_t is a ladye of hye degree, And iff I like her countenance well, The heyre of all my land shee'st bee.'
4 To _tha_t ladye ffayre Lord Phenix came, And to _tha_t like-some dame said hee, Now God thee saue, my ladye ffaire, The heyre of all my land tho'st bee.
5 'Leaue of yo_u_r suite,' the ladye sayd; 'You are a lord of honor ffree; You may gett ladyes enowe att home, And I haue a loue in mine owne countrye.
6 'I haue a louer true of mine owne, A servinge-man of a small degree; Thomas a Pott, itt is his name, He is the ffirst loue _tha_t euer I had, and the last _tha_t hee shalbee.'
7 'Giue Thomas a Pott then be his name, I wott I ken him soe readilye; I can spend forty pounds by weeke, And hee cannott spend pounds three.'
8 'God giue you good of yo_u_r gold,' said the ladye, 'And alsoe, _si_r, of yo_u_r ffee! Hee was the ffirst loue _tha_t euer I had, And the last, s_i_r, shall hee bee.'
9 With _tha_t Lord Phenix was sore amoued; Vnto her ffather then went hee; Hee told her ffather how itt was proued, How _tha_t his daughter's mind was sett.
10 'Thou art my daughter,' the Erle of Arrndell said, 'The heyre of all my land to bee; Thou 'st be bryde to the Lord Phenix, Daughter, giue thou'le be heyre to mee.'
11 For lacke of her loue this ladye must lose, Her foolish wooing lay all aside; The day is appoynted, and ffreinds are agreede; Shee is fforcte to be the Lo_rd_ Phenix bryde.
12 W_i_th _tha_t the lady began to muse-- A greeued woman, God wott, was shee-- How shee might Lo_rd_ Phenix beguile, And scape vnmarryed ffrom him _tha_t day.
13 Shee called to her her litle ffoote-page, To Iacke her boy, soe tenderlye; Sayes, Come thou hither, thou litle ffoote-page, For indeed I dare trust none but thee.
14 To Strawberry Castle, boy, thou must goe, To Thomas Pott there as hee can bee, And giue him here this letter ffaire, And on Guilford Greene bidd him meete me.
15 Looke thou marke his contenance well, And his colour tell to mee; And hye thee ffast, and come againe, And forty shillings I will giue thee.
16 For if he blush in his fface, Then in his hart hee'se sorry bee; Then lett my ffather say what hee will, For false to Potts I'le neuer bee.
17 And giue hee smile then with his mouth, Then in his heart hee'le merry be; Then may hee gett him a loue where-euer he can, For small of his companye my p_ar_t shalbe.
18 Then one while _tha_t the boy hee went, Another while, God wott, rann hee, And when hee came to Strawberry Castle, There Thomas Potts hee see.
19 Then he gaue him this letter ffaire, And when he began then for to reade, They boy had told him by word of mouth His loue must be the Lord Phenix bryde.
20 With _tha_t, Thomas a Pott began to blushe, The teares trickeled in his eye: 'Indeed this letter I cannot reede, Nor neuer a word to see or spye.
21 'I pray thee, boy, to me thou'le be trew, And heer 's fiue marke I will giue thee; And all these words thou must peruse, And tell thy lady this ffrom mee.
22 'Tell her by ffaith and troth shee is mine owne, By some p_ar_t of p_ro_mise, and soe itt's be found; Lo_rd_ Phenix shall neu_er_ marry her, by night nor day, W_i_thout he can winn her w_i_th his hand.
23 'On Gilford Greene I will her meete, And bidd _tha_t ladye ffor mee pray; For there I'le loose my liffe soe sweete, Or else the wedding I will stay.'
24 Then backe againe the boy he went, As ffast againe as he cold hye; The ladye mett him fiue mile on the way: 'Why hast thou stayd soe long?' saies shee.
25 'Boy,' said the ladye, 'thou art but younge; To please my mind thou 'le mocke and scorne; I will not beleeue thee on word of mouth, Vnlesse on this booke thou wilt be sworne.'
26 'Marry, by this booke,' the boy can say, 'As Christ himselfe be true to mee, Tho_mas_ Pott cold not his letter reade For teares trickling in his eye.'
27 'If this be true,' the ladye sayd, 'Thou bonny boy, thou tells to mee, Forty shillings I did thee p_ro_mise, But heere's ten pounds I'le giue itt thee.
28 'All my maids,' the lady sayd, '_Tha_t this day doe waite on mee, Wee will ffall downe vpon our knees, For Tho_mas_ Pott now pray will wee.
29 'If his ffortune be now ffor to winn-- Wee will pray to Christ in Trinytye-- I'le make him the fflower of all his kinn, Ffor they Lo_rd_ of Arrundale he shalbe.'
30 Now lett vs leaue talking of this ladye faire, In her prayer good where shee can bee; And I'le tell you hou Tho_mas_ Pott For ayd to his lo_rd_ and m_aster_ came hee.
31 And when hee came Lo_rd_ Iockye before, He kneeled him low downe on his knee; Saies, Thou art welcome, Tho_mas_ Pott, Thou art allwayes full of thy curtesye.
32 Has thou slaine any of thy ffellowes, Or hast thou wrought me some villanye? 'Sir, none of my ffellowes I haue slaine, Nor I haue wrought you noe villanye.
33 'But I haue a loue in Scottland ffaire, I doubt I must lose her through pouertye; If you will not beleeue me by word of mouth, Behold the letter shee writt vnto mee.'
34 When Lo_rd_ Iockye looked the letter vpon, The tender words in itt cold bee, 'Tho_mas_ Pott, take thou no care, Thou 'st neuer loose her throughe pouertye.
35 'Thou shalt have forty pounds a weeke, In gold and siluer thou shalt rowe, And Harbye towne I will thee allowe As longe as thou dost meane to wooe.
36 'Thou shalt haue fortye of thy ffellowes ffaire, And forty horsse to goe with thee, And forty speares of the best I haue, And I my-selfe in thy companye.'
37 'I thanke you, m_aster_,' sayd Tho_mas_ Pott, 'Neither man nor boy shall goe with mee; I wold not ffor a thousand pounds Take one man in my companye.'
38 'Why then, God be with thee, Tho_mas_ Pott! Thou art well knowen and proued for a man; Looke thou shedd no guiltlesse bloode, Nor neuer confound no gentlman.
39 'But looke thou take with him some truce, Apoint a place of lybertye; Lett him p_ro_vide as well as hee cann, And as well p_ro_vided thou shalt bee.'
40 And when Tho_mas_ Pott came to Gilford Greene, And walked there a litle beside, Then was hee ware of the Lo_rd_ Phenix, And with him Ladye Rozamund his bryde.
41 Away by the bryde rode Tho_mas_ of Pott, But noe word to her _tha_t he did say; But when he came Lo_rd_ Phenix before, He gaue him the right time of the day.
42 'O thou art welcome, Tho_mas_ a Potts, Thou serving-man, welcome to mee! How ffares they lo_rd_ and m_aster_ att home, And all the ladyes in thy cuntrye?'
43 'S_i_r, my lo_rd_ and my m_aster_ is in verry good health, I wott I ken itt soe readylye; I pray you, will you ryde to one outsyde, A word or towe to talke w_i_th mee.
44 'You are a nobleman,' sayd Tho_mas_ a Potts, 'Yee are a borne lo_rd_ in Scottland ffree; You may gett ladyes enowe att home; You shall neuer take my loue ffrom mee.'
45 'Away, away, thou Tho_mas_ a Potts! Thou seruing-man, stand thou a-side! I wott there's not a serving-man this day, I know, can hinder mee of my bryde.'
46 'If I be but a seruing-man,' sayd Tho_mas_, 'And you are a lord of honor ffree, A speare or two I'le w_i_th you runn, Before I'le loose her thus cowardlye.'
47 'On Gilford Greene,' Lo_rd_ Ph_enix_ saies, 'I'le thee meete; Neither man nor boy shall come hither w_i_th mee;' 'And as I am a man,' said Tho_mas_ a Pott, 'I'le haue as ffew in my companye.'
48 W_i_th _that_ the wedding-day was stayd, The bryde went vnmarryed home againe; Then to her maydens ffast shee loughe, And in her hart shee was ffull ffaine.
49 'But all my mayds,' they ladye sayd, '_That_ this day doe waite on mee, Wee will ffall downe againe vpon our knees, For Tho_mas_ a Potts now pray will wee.
50 'If his ffortune be ffor to winn-- Wee'le pray to Christ in Trynitye-- I'le make him the fflower of all his kinn, For the Lo_rd_ of Arrundale he shalbe.'
51 Now let vs leaue talking of this lady fayre, In her prayers good where shee can bee; I'le tell you the troth how Tho_mas_ a Potts For aide to his lord againe came hee.
52 And when he came to Strawberry Castle, To try ffor his ladye he had but one weeke; Alacke, ffor sorrow hee cannott fforbeare, For four dayes then he ffell sicke.
53 W_i_th _tha_t his lo_rd_ and m_aster_ to him came, Sayes, I pray thee, Tho_mas_, tell mee w_i_thout all doubt, Whether hast thou gotten the bonny ladye, Or thou man gange the ladye w_i_thoute.
54 'Marry, m_aster_, yett _tha_t matter is vntryde; W_i_thin two dayes tryed itt must bee; He is a lo_rd_, and I am but a seruing-man, I doubt I must loose her through pouertye.' 'Why, Tho_mas_ a Pott, take thou no care; Thou'st neuer loose her through pouertye.
55 'Thou shalt haue halfe my land a yeere, And _tha_t will raise thee many a pound; Before thou shalt loose thy bonny ladye, Thou shalt drop angells w_i_th him to the ground.
56 'And thou shalt haue forty of thy ffellowes ffaire, And forty horsses to goe w_i_th thee, And forty speres of the best I haue, And I my-selfe in thy companye.'
57 'I thanke you, m_aster_,' sayd Tho_mas_ a Potts, 'But of one thinge, s_i_r, I wold be ffaine; If I shold loose my bonny ladye, How shall I increase yo_u_r goods againe?'
58 'Why, if thou winn thy lady ffaire, Thou maye well fforth for to pay mee; If thou loose thy lady, thou hast losse enoughe; Not one penny I will aske thee.'
59 'M_aster_, you haue thirty horsses in one hold, You keepe them ranke and royallye; There's an old horsse,--for him you doe not care-- This day wold sett my lady ffree.
60 '_Tha_t is a white, w_i_th a cutt tayle, Ffull sixteen yeeres of age is hee; Giffe you wold lend me _tha_t old horsse, Then I shold gett her easilye.'
61 'Thou takes a ffoolish p_ar_t,' the Lo_rd_ Iockye sayd 'And a ffoolish p_ar_t thou takes on thee; Thou shalt haue a better then euer he was, _Tha_t forty pounds cost more nor hee.'
62 'O m_aster_, those horsses beene wild and wicked, And litle they can skill of the old traine; Giffe I be out of my saddle cast, They beene soe wild they'le neuer be tane againe.
63 'Lett me haue age, sober and wise; Itt is a p_ar_t of wisdome, you know itt plaine; If I be out of my sadle cast, Hee'le either stand still or turne againe.'
64 'Thou shalt haue _tha_t horsse w_i_th all my hart, And my cote-plate of siluer ffree, And a hundred men att thy backe, For to fight if neede shalbee.'
65 'I thanke you, m_aster_,' said Tho_mas_ a Potts, 'Neither man nor boy shall goe w_i_th mee; As you are a lord off honor borne, Let none of my ffellowes know this of mee.
66 'Ffor if they wott of my goinge, I wott behind me they will not bee; W_i_thout you keepe them vnder a locke, Vppon _tha_t greene I shall them see.'
67 And when Tho_mas_ came to Gilford Greene, And walked there some houres three, Then was he ware of the Lo_rd_ Phenix, And four men in his companye.
68 'You haue broken yo_u_r vow,' sayd Tho_mas_ a Pott, 'Yo_u_r vowe _tha_t you made vnto mee; You said you wold come yo_u_r selfe alone, And you haue brought more then two or three.'
69 'These are my waiting-men,' Lo_rd_ Phenix sayd, '_Tha_t euery day doe waite on mee; Giffe any of these shold att vs stirr, My speare shold runn throwe his bodye.'
70 'I'le runn noe race,' said Tho_mas_ Potts, 'Till _tha_t this othe heere made may bee: If the one of vs be slaine, The other fforgiuen _tha_t hee may bee.'
71 'I'le make a vow,' Lo_rd_ Phenix sayes, 'My men shall beare wittnesse w_i_th thee, Giffe thou slay mee att this time, Neuer the worsse beloued in Scottland thou shalt bee.'
72 Then they turned their horsses round about, To run the race more egarlye; Lo_rd_ Phenix he was stiffe and stout, He has runn Tho_mas_ quite thorrow the thye.
73 And beere Tho_mas_ out of his saddle ffaire; Vpon the ground there did hee lye; He saies, For my liffe I doe not care, But ffor the loue of my ladye.
74 But shall I lose my ladye ffaire? I thought shee shold haue beene my wiffe; I pray thee, Lo_rd_ Phenix, ryde not away, For w_i_th thee I will loose my liffe.
75 Tho Tho_mas_ a Potts was a seruing-man, He was alsoe a phisityan good; He clapt his hand vpon his wound, W_i_th some kind of words he stauncht the blood.
76 Then into his sadle againe hee leepe; The blood in his body began to warme; He mist Lo_rd_ Phenix bodye there, But he run him quite throw the brawne of the arme.
77 And he bore him quite out of his saddle ffaire; Vpon the ground there did he lye; He said, I pray thee, Lo_rd_ Phenix, rise and ffight, Or else yeeld this ladye sweete to mee.
78 'To ffight w_i_th thee,' q_uo_th Phenix, 'I cannott stand, Nor ffor to ffight, I cannott, sure; Thou hast run me through the brawne of the arme; Noe longer of thy spere I cannott endure.
79 'Thou'st haue _tha_t ladye w_i_th all my hart, Sith itt was like neuer better to proue. Nor neuer a noble-man this day, _Tha_t will seeke to take a pore man's loue.'
80 'Why then, be of good cheere,' saies Tho_mas_ Pott, 'Indeed your bucher I'le neuer bee, For I'le come and stanche yo_u_r bloode, Giff any thankes you'le giue to mee.'
81 As he was stanching the Phenix blood, These words Tho_mas_ a Pott cann to him proue: 'I'le neuer take a ladye of you thus, But here I'le giue you another choice.
82 'Heere is a lane of two miles longe; Att either end sett wee will bee; The ladye shall sitt vs betweene, And soe will wee sett this ladye ffree.'
83 'If thou'le doe soe,' Lo_rd_ Phenix sayes, 'Tho_mas_ a Pott, as thou dost tell mee, Whether I gett her or goe without her, Heere's forty pounds I'le giue itt thee.'
84 And when the ladye there can stand, A woman's mind that day to proue, 'Now, by my ffaith,' said this ladye ffaire, 'This day Tho_mas_ a Pott shall haue his owne loue.'
85 Toward Tho_mas_ a Pott the lady shee went, To leape behind him hastilye; 'Nay, abyde a while,' sayd Lo_rd_ Phenix, 'Ffor better yett proued thou shalt bee.
86 'Thou shalt stay heere with all thy maids-- In number with thee thou hast but three-- Tho_mas_ a Pott and I'le goe beyond yonder wall, There the one of vs shall dye.'
87 And when they came beyond the wall, The one wold not the other nye; Lo_rd_ Phenix he had giuen his word W_i_th Tho_mas_ a Pott neuer to ffight.
88 'Giue me a choice,' Lo_rd_ Phenix sayes, 'Tho_mas_ a Pott, I doe pray thee; Lett mee goe to yonder ladye ffaire, To see whether shee be true to thee.'
89 And when hee came _tha_t ladye too, Vnto that likesome dame sayd hee, Now God thee saue, thou ladye ffaire, The heyre of all my land thou'st bee.
90 Ffor this Tho_mas_ a Potts I haue slaine; He hath more then deadlye wounds two or three; Thou art mine owne ladye, he sayd, And marryed together wee will bee.
91 The ladye said, If Tho_mas_ a Potts this day thou haue slaine, Thou hast slaine a better man than eu_er_ was thee; And I'le sell all the state of my lande But thou'st be hanged on a gallow-tree.
92 With _tha_t they lady shee ffell in a soone; A greeued woman, I wott, was shee; Lo_rd_ Phenix hee was readye there, Tooke her in his armes most hastilye.
93 'O Lo_rd_, sweete, and stand on thy ffeete, This day Tho_mas_ a Pott aliue can bee; I'le send ffor thy father, the Lo_rd_ of Arrundale, And marryed together I will you see: Giffe hee will not maintaine you well, Both gold and land you shall haue from me.'
94 'I'le see _tha_t wedding,' my Lo_rd_ of Arrundale said, 'Of my daughter's loue _tha_t is soe ffaire; And sith itt will no better be, Of all my land Tho_mas_ a Pott shall be my heyre.'
95 'Now all my maids,' the ladye said, 'And ladyes of England, faire and ffree, Looke you neuer change yo_ur_ old loue for no new, Nor neuer change for no pouertye.
96 'Ffor I had a louer true of mine owne, A seruing-man of a small degree; Ffrom Tho_mas_ a Pott I'le turne his name, And the Lo_rd_ of Arrundale hee shall bee.'
B
#a.# London, printed for F. Coles, and others, 1677, Bodleian Library, Wood, 259. #b.# Pepys Penny Merriments, I, 189, Magdalen College Library, Cambridge.
1 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.
2 For of her beauty she is bright, And of her colour very fair; She's daughter to Lord Arundel, Approvd his parand and his heir.
3 'I'le see this bride,' Lord Phenix said, 'That lady of so bright a blee, And if I like her countenance well, The heir of all my lands she'st be.'
4 But when he came the lady before, Before this comely maid came he, 'O God thee save, thou lady sweet, My heir and parand thou shalt be.'
5 '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.
6 '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.'
7 'If that Tom Pots is his name, I do ken him right verily; I am able to spend fourty pounds a week, Where he is not able to spend pounds three.'
8 'God give you good of your gold,' she said, 'And ever God give you good of your fee; Tom Pots was the first love that ever I had, And I do mean him the last to be.'
9 With that Lord Phenix soon was movd; Towards the lady did he threat; He told her father, and so it was provd, How his daughter's mind was set.
10 '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.'
11 '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.'
12 Alas! the lady her fondness must leave, And all her foolish wooing lay aside; The time is come, her friends have appointed, That she must be Lord Phenix bride.
13 With that the lady began to weep; She knew not well then what to say, How she might Lord Phenix deny, And escape from marriage quite away.
14 See calld unto her little foot-page, Saying, I can trust none but thee; Go carry Tom Pots this letter fair, And bid him on Guilford Green meet me.
15 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.
16 But see that thou note his countenance well, And his colour, and shew it to me; And go thy way and hie thee again, And forty shillings I will give thee.
17 For if he smile now with his lips, 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.
18 But if he blush now in his face, Then in his heart he will sorry be; Then to his vow he hath some grace, And false to him I will never be.
19 Away this lacky-boy he ran, And a full speed forsooth went he, Till he came to Strawberry Castle, And there Tom Pots came he to see.
20 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.
21 When he lookd 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.
22 My little boy, be to me true, Here is five marks I will give thee; And all these words I must peruse, And tell my lady this from me.
23 By faith and troth she is my own, By some part of promise, so it's to be found; Lord Phoenix shall not have her night nor day, Except he can win her with his own hand.
24 On Guilford Green I will her meet; Say that I wish her for me to pray; For there I'le lose my life so sweet, Or else the wedding I mean to stay.
25 Away this lackey-boy he ran, Even 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?
26 My little boy, thou art but young, It gives me at heart thou'l mock and scorn; I'le not believe thee by word of mouth, Unless on this book thou wilt be sworn.
27 'Now by this book,' the boy did say, 'And Jesus Christ be as true to me, Tom Pots could not read the letter fair, Nor never a word to spy or see.
28 'He says, by faith and troth you are his own, By some part of promise, so it's to be found; L_ord_ Phenix shall not have you night nor day, Except he win you with his own hand.
29 'On Guilford Green he will you meet; He wishes you for him to pray; For there he'l lose his life so sweet, Or else the wedding he means to stay.'
30 '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.
31 '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.
32 'If it be his fortune the better to win, As I pray to Christ in Trinity, I'le make him the flower of all his kin, For the young Lord Arundel he shall be.'
33 Let's leave talking of this lady fair, In prayers full good where she may be; Now let us talk of Tommy Pots; To his lord and master for aid went he.
34 But when he came Lord Jockey before, He kneeled lowly on his knee: 'What news, what news, thou Tommy Pots, Thou art so full of courtesie?
35 '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.'
36 '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.
37 'If you'l not believe me by word of mouth, But read this letter, and you shall see, Here by all these suspitious words That she her own self hath sent to me.'
38 But when he had read the letter fair, Of all the suspitious words in it might be, 'O Tommy Pots, take thou no care, Thou'st never lose her with poverty.
39 'For thou'st have forty pounds a week, In gold and silver thou shalt row, And Harvy Town I will give thee As long as thou intendst to wooe.
40 'Thou'st have forty of thy fellows fair, And forty horses to go with thee, Forty of the best spears I have, And I my self in thy company.'
41 '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.
42 'God be with you, master,' said Tommy Pots, 'Now Jesus Christ you save and see; If ever I come alive again, Staid the wedding it shall be.'
43 'O God be your speed, thou Tommy Pots, Thou art well proved for a man; See never a drop of blood thou spil, Nor yonder gentleman confound.
44 'See that some truce with him you take, And appoint a place of liberty; Let him provide him as well as he can, As well provided thou shalt be.'
45 But when he came to Guilford Green, And there had walkt a little aside, There was he ware of Lord Phenix come, And Lady Rosamond his bride.
46 Away by the bride then Tommy Pots went, But never a word to her did say, Till he the Lord Phenix came before; He gave him the right time of the day.
47 'O welcome, welcome, thou Tommy Pots, Thou serving-man of low degree; How doth thy lord and master at home, And all the ladies in that countrey?'
48 'My lord and master is in good health, I trust since that I did him see; Will you walk with me to an out-side, Two or three words to talk with me?
49 'You are a noble man,' said Tom, 'And born a lord in Scotland free; You may have ladies enough at home, And never take my love from me.'
50 '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.'
51 '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.
52 'Appoint a place, I will thee meet, Appoint a place of liberty; For there I'le lose my life so sweet, Or else my lady I'le set free.'
53 'On Guilford Green I will thee meet; No man nor boy shall come with me:' 'As I am a man,' said Tommy Pots, 'I'le have as few in my company.'
54 And thus staid the marriage was, The bride unmarried went home again; Then to her maids fast did she laugh, And in her heart she was full fain.
55 'My maidens all,' the lady said, 'That ever wait on me this day, Now let us all kneel down, And for Tommy Pots let us all pray.
56 'If it be his fortune the better to win, As I trust to God in Trinity, I'le make him the flower of all his kin, For the young Lord Arundel he shall be.'
57 When Tom Pots came home again, 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.
58 With that his master to him came, Says, Pray thee, Tom Pots, tell me if tho doubt Whether thou hast gotten thy gay lady, Or thou must go thy love without.
59 '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, I fear I shall lose her with poverty.'
60 '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.
61 '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.'
62 'I thank you, master,' said Tommy Pots, 'Yet there is one thing of you I would fain; If that I lose my lady sweet, How I'st restore your goods again?'
63 'If that thou win the lady sweet, Thou mayst well forth, thou shalt pay me; If thou loosest thy lady, thou losest enough; Thou shalt not pay me one penny.'
64 'You have thirty horses in one close, You keep them all both frank and free; Amongst them all there's an old white horse This day would set my lady free.
65 '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.'
66 '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 cost me.'
67 'O your choice horses are wild and tough, And little they can skill of their train; If I be out of my saddle cast, They are so wild they'l ner be tain.'
68 'Thou'st have that horse,' his master said, 'If that one thing thou wilt tell me; Why that horse is better than any other, I pray thee, Tom Pots, shew thou to me.'
69 'That horse is old, of stomach bold, And well can he skill of his train; If I be out of my saddle cast, He'l either stand still or turn again.'
70 '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.'
71 '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.
72 'God be with you, master,' said Tommy Pots; 'Now, as you are a man of law, One thing let me crave at your hand; Let never a one of my fellows know.
73 'For if that my fellows they did wot, Or ken of my extremity, Except you keep them under a lock, Behind me I am sure they would not be.'
74 But when he came to Guilford Green, He waited hours two or three; There he was ware of Lord Phenix come, And four men in his company.
75 '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.'
76 'These are my men,' Lord Phenix said, 'Which every day do wait on me; [If] any of these dare proffer to strike, I'le run my spear through his body.'
77 'I'le run no race now,' said Tommy Pots, 'Except now this may be; If either of us be slain this day, The other shall forgiven be.'
78 'I'le make that vow with all my heart, My men shall bear witness with me; And if thou slay me here this day, In Scotland worse belovd thou never shalt be.'
79 They turnd their horses thrice about, To run the race so eagerly; Lord Phenix he was fierce and stout, And ran Tom Pots through the thick o th' thigh.
80 He bord 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.
81 '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.'
82 Tom Pots was but a serving-man, But yet he was a doctor good; He bound his handkerchief on his wound, And with some kind of words he stancht his blood.
83 He leapt into his saddle again, The blood in his body began to warm; He mist Lord Phenix body fair, _And_ ran him through the brawn of the arm.
84 He bord him out of his saddle fair, Down to the ground most sorrowfully; Says, Prethee, Lord Phenix, rise up and fight, Or yield my lady unto me.
85 'Now for to fight I cannot tell, And for to fight I am not sure; Thou hast run me throw the brawn o th' arm, That with a spear I may not endure.
86 '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.'
87 'Seeing you say so much,' said Tommy Pots, 'I will not seem your butcher to be; But I will come and stanch your blood, If any thing you will give me.'
88 As he did stanch Lord Phenix blood, Lord, in his heart he did rejoyce! 'I'le not take the lady from you thus, But of her you'st have another choice.
89 'Here is a lane of two miles long; At either end we set will be; The lady shall stand us among, Her own choice shall set her free.'
90 '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.'
91 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.'
92 Towards Tom Pots the lady did hie, To get on behind him hastily; 'Nay stay, nay stay,' Lord Phenix said, 'Better proved it shall be.
93 'Stay you with your maidens here here-- In number fair they are but three-- Tom Pots and I will go behind yonder wall, That one of us two be proved to dye.'
94 But when they came behind the wall, The one came not the other nigh; For the Lord Phenix had made a vow, That with Tom Pots he would never fight.
95 '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.'
96 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 have I.
97 'Now have I slain him, Tommy Pots, And given him death's wounds two or three; O lady sweet, thou art my own; Of all loves, wilt thou live with me?'
98 'If thou hast slain him, Tommy Pots, And given him death's wounds two or three, I'le sell the state of my father's lands But hanged shall Lord Phenix be.'
99 With that the lady fell in a swound, For a grieved woman, God wot, was she; Lord Phenix he was ready then To take her up so hastily.
100 'O lady sweet, stand thou on thy feet, Tom Pots alive this day may be; I'le send for thy father, Lord Arundel, And he and I the wedding will see.
101 '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.'
102 'I'le see this wedding,' Lord Arundel said, 'Of my daughter's luck that is so fair; Seeing the matter will be no better, Of all my lands Tom Pots shall be the heir.'
103 With that the lady began for to smile, For a glad woman, God wot, was she; 'Now all my maids,' the lady said, 'Example you may take by me.
104 'But all the ladies of Scotland fair, And lasses of England that well would prove, Neither marry for gold nor goods, Nor marry for nothing but only love.
105 '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.'
C
A white letter sheet in five columns, "published May 29, 1657," The King's Pamphlets, British Museum, 669, f. 20, 55.
1 In Scotland there are ladies fair, There's ladies of honor and high degree, Hey down, down a down derry But one excels above all the rest, And the Earl of Arundel's daughter is she. With hey down, derry down, Lang derry down derry
2 Both knights and lords of great account Comes thither a wooing for this ladie's sake: It fell on a day that E_arl_ Arundell said, Daughter, which of these lords will you take?
3 Or which of them now likes thee best? Speak truth to me, but do not lie; Speak truth to me, and do not jest, Who must heir my livings when as I die?
4 Lord Fenix is a lord of high degree, And hath both lands and livings free; I tell thee, daughter, thou shalt him have, If thou wilt take any counsell at me.
5 With that the young lady fell down of her knee, And trickling tears ran down her eye: 'As you are my father, and loves me dear, My heart is set where it must be.
6 'On a serving-man which is so poor, For all he hath is but pounds three; He was the first lover that ere I had, And the last I mean him for to be.'
7 With that her father was sore offended, And fast he rode at that same tide, Untill he to the Lord Fenix came, And said, Take thee my daughter for thy bride.
8 The yong ladie cald up Jack, her foot-boy: 'I dare trust no man alive but thee; Thou must go my earand to Strawbery Castle, To the place where Tomy o'th Potts doth lye.
9 'And carry this letter, in parchment fair, That I have sealed with mine own hand; And when Tomey looks this letter upon, Be sure his countenance thou understand.
10 'And if he either laugh or smile, He is not sorry at his heart; I must seek a new love where I will, For small of Tomey must be my part.
11 'But if he wax red in the face, And tricling tears fall from his eyes, Then let my father say what he will, For true to Tomey I'le be always.
12 'And thou must tell him by word of mouth, If this letter cannot be read at that tyde, That this day sennight, and no longer hence, I must be Lord William Fenix bride.'
13 The boy took leave of his lady gay, And to Strawbery Castle he did him fast hie; A serving-man did guide him the way To the place where Tomey o'th Pots did lie.
14 'O Christ thee save, good Tomey o'th Pots, And Christ thee save as I thee see; Come read this letter, Tomey o'th Potts, As thy true-love hath sent to thee.'
15 Then Tomey he waxed red in the face, And trickling tears ran down his eyes; But never a letter could he read, If he should be hanged on th' gallow-tree.
16 'Shee bid me tell you by word of mouth, If this letter could not be read at this tide, That this day sennight, and no longer hence, She must be Lord William Fenix bride.'
17 'Now in faith,' said Tomey, 'she is mine own, As all hereafter shall understand; Lord Fenix shall not marry her, by night or day, Unless he win her by his own hand.
18 'For on Gilforth Green I will her meet, And if she love me, bid her for me pray; And there I will lose my life so sweet, Or else her wedding I will stay.'
19 He cald this boy unto accounts; Think whether he loved this lady gay! He gave him forty shilling for his message, And all he had was but pounds three.
20 The boy took his leave of Tomey o'th Potts, Fearing that he had staid too late; The young lady did wait of his comming, And met him five miles out of the gate.
21 'O boney boy, thou art not of age, Therefore thou canst both mock and scorn; I will not beleeve what my love hath said, Unlesse thou on this book be sworn.'
22 'Now, in faith, gay lady, I will not lye,' And kist the book full soon did he: 'One letter he could not read at that time, If he should have been hangd at gallo-tree.
23 'He said in faith you are his own, As all hereafter shall understand; Lord Fenix shall not marry you by night or day, Unlesse he winn you with his own hand.
24 'For on Gilforth Green he will you meet, And if you love him, you must for him pray; And there he will lose his life so sweet, Or else your wedding he will stay.'
25 Let us leave talking of the boy, That with his gay lady is turned home; Now let us go talk of Tomey o'th Potts, And how to his master he is gone.
26 When Tomey came his master before, He kneeled down upon his knee: 'What tidings hast thou brought, my man, As that thou makes such courtesie?'
27 'O Christ you save, dear master,' he said, 'And Christ you save as I you see; For God's love, master, come read me this letter, Which my true love hath sent to me.'
28 His master took this letter in hand, And looked ore it with his eye; 'In faith, I am fain, my man,' he said, 'As thou hast a lady so true to thee.'
29 'I have a lady true to me, And false to her I'le never be; But ere this day sennight, and no longer hence, I must lose my love through povertie.
30 'Lord Fenix he will her have, Because he hath more wealth then I:' 'Now hold thy tongue, my man,' he said, 'For before that day many a one shall die.
31 'O Tomey,' said he, 'I love thee well, And something for thee I will doo; For Strawbery Castle shall be thine own So long as thou dost mean to woo.
32 'One half of my lands I'le give thee a year, The which will raise thee many a pound; Before that thou lose thy bonny sweet-hart, Thou shalt drop angels with him to the ground.
33 'I have thirty steeds in my stable strong. Which any of them is good indeed, And a bunch of spears hangs them among, And a nag to carry thee swift with speed.
34 'My sute of armour thou shalt put on-- So well it becomes thy fair body-- And when thou comst on Gilford Green Thou'll look more like a lord then he.
35 'My men shall all rise and with thee go, And I my self with thee will ride; And many a bloody wound will we make Before that thou shalt lose thy bride.'
36 'Now Christ reward you, dear master,' he said, 'For the good will you bear to me; But I trust to God, in a little space, With my own hands to set her free.
37 'I'le none of your horses, master,' he said, 'For they cannot well skill of their trade; None but your gray nag that hath a cut tail, For hee'll either stand or turn again.
38 'One spear, master, and no more, No more with me that I will take, And if that spear it will not serve my turn, I'le suffer death for my true-love's sake.'
39 Early in the morning, when day did spring, On Gilforth Green betime was he; There did he espie Lord Fenix comming, And with him a royall company.
40 Gold chains about their necks threescore, Full well might seem fine lords to ride; The young lady followed far behind, Sore against her will that she was a bride.
41 There Tomey passed this lady by, But never a word to her did say; Then straight to Lord Fenix he is gone, And gives him the right time of the day.
42 'O Christ you save, Lord Fenix,' he said, 'And Christ you save as I you see;' 'Thou art welcome, Tomey o'th Potts,' he said, 'A serving-man into our company.
43 'O how doth thy master, Tomy o'th Potts? Tell me the truth and do not lye;' 'My master is well,' then Tomey replide, 'I thank my lord, and I thank not thee.
44 'O Christ you save Lord Fenix,' he said, 'And Christ you save as I you see; You may have choyce of ladies enough, And not take my true-love from me.'
45 With that Lord Fenix was sore offended, And fast away he rode at that tide; 'God forbid,' Lord Fenix he said, 'A serving-man should hold me from my bride!'
46 But afterward Tomey did him meet, As one that came not thither to flye, And said, Lord Fenix, take thou my love, For I will not lose her cowardly.
47 'O meet me here tomorrow,' he said; 'As thou art a man, come but thy sell; And if that I come [with] any more, The divell fetch my soul to hell.'
48 And so this wedding-day was staid, The lady and lords they turned home; The lady made merry her maidens among, And said, Tomey I wish thou may win thy own.
49 Early in the morning, when day did spring, On Gilforth Green betime was he; He waited long for Lord Fenix comming, But Lord William Fenix he could not see.
50 He waited long and very long, Untill the sun waxed very high; There was he ware of Lord Fenix coming, And with him other men three.
51 'Thou art a false thief, Lord Fenix,' he said, 'Because thou breakst thy promise with me; Thou promisedst me to come by thy self, And thou hast brought other men three.
52 'But in regard I call thee thief, Because thou hast broken promise with me, I vow, and you were as many more, Forsaken sure you should not be.'
53 'These are my men,' Lord Fenix said, 'That every day do wait on me; If any of them do strike a stroke, In faith then hanged he shall be.'
54 They fetcht a race and rode about, And then they met full eagerly; Lord Fenix away by Tomey's body glowd, And he ran him quite thorow the thigh.
55 Out of his saddle bore him he did, And laid his body on the ground; His spear he ran thorow Tomey's thigh, In which he made a grievous wound.
56 But Tomey quickly start up again; For as he was a physitian good, He laid his hand upon the wound, And quickly he did stanch the blood.
57 Full lightly he leaped to his saddle again, Forth of it long he did not stay; For he weighed more of the ladie's love Then of any life he had that day.
58 They fetched a race and rode about, The blood in Tomey's body began to warm; He away by Lord Fenix body glowde, And he ran him quite through the arm.
59 Out of his saddle bore him he hath, Of from his steed that mounted so high; 'Now rise and fight, Lord Fenix,' he said, 'Or else yeeld the lady unto me.'
60 'I'll yeeld the lady unto thee; My arm no more my spear will guide; It was never better likely to prove, To hold a poor serving-man from his bride.'
61 'But if thou wilt thus deal then with me, Lest of this matter should rise any voice, That I have gotten the victory, Then thou shalt have another choice.
62 'Yonder is a lane of two miles long; At either end then stand will we; Wee 'l set the lady in the midst, And whether she come to, take her, for me.'
63 'If thou wilt thus deal,' said Fenix then, 'Thou 'll save my credit and honor high; And whether I win her, or go without her, I'le be willing to give ten pounds to thee.'
64 There was a lane of two miles long; The lady was set in the middle that tide; She laught and made merry her maids among, And said, Tomey o'th Pots, now I 'le be thy bride.
65 Now all you ladies of high degree, And maides that married yet would be, Marry no man for goods or lands, Unlesse you love him faithfully.
66 For I had a love of my own, she said, At Strawberrie Castle there lived he; I'le change his name from Tomey o'th Pots, And the yong Earl of Arundell now he shall be.
* * * * *
#A.#
6^1. of nine.
6^3. _at the end of the stanza._
7^3. spend 40^{li}_{:}.
7^4. pounds 3.
11^3. _There is a mark like an undotted_ i, _in the MS., before the_ y _of_ appoynted. _Furnivall._
15^4. 40.
20^3. camot.
21^2, 24^3. 5.
21^3. must pursue.
27^3. 40^{s}_{.}.
27^4. 10^{li}_{.}.
29^1. wim.
33^2, 33^3. _Stanza 35 is written between these lines, "but marked by a bracket, and by Percy, to go in its proper place." Furnivall._
35^1. 40^{li}_{.}.
36^1. 40^{tye}_{.}.
36^{2, 3}. 40.
36^4. _Only half the_ n _of_ companye _in the MS. Furnivall._
37^3. 1000^{li}_{:}.
46^3. or 2.
51, 52 _are bracketed as beginning the_ 2^{d}_{:} parte.
51^4. cane.
52^4. for 4.
54^2. 2.
56^{1, 2, 3}. 40.
57^3. bomy.
59^1. 30.
60^2. 16.
61^3. the euer.
61^4. 40^{li}_{.}.
64^3. 100^{d}_{.}.
67^2. 3.
67^4. 4.
68^4. 2 or 3.
72^2. rum.
75^1. Then.
81^1. stamching.
81^2. him praie, _perhaps_.
82^1. 2.
83^4. 40^{li}_{:}.
86^2. 3.
90^2. 2 or 3.
93^5. you maintaine.
96^1. owme.
And _for_ & _throughout_.
#B.#
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.
#a.#
London, printed for F. Coles, T. Vere, J. Wright and J. Clarke. 1677.
16^3. high thee.
30^4. then pounds.
48^2. since _is torn_.
68^2. me tell.
75^4. or 3.
And _for_ & _throughout_.
_After_ 32: The Second Part.
_After_ 56: The Third Part.
#b.#
7^1. it is.
13^4. quite _wanting_.
15^1. my will.
15^3. to _wanting_.
16^1. see you.
16^2. hye thee.
17^2. give me.
18^2. merry be.
18^4. I will.
19^1. run.
24^2. So that.
25^3. three miles.
26^2. thoult.
27^3. this letter.
27^4. see or spy.
29^2. to stay.
33^1. leaving.
38^4, 60^4, 78^4. ne'r.
42^2. Christ Jesus.
44^1. him you make.
46^2. A serving-man of low degree.
48^4. to speak.
53^1. will you.
55^4. Tom.
58^2. prithee.
58^3. lady gay.
59^3. am _wanting_.
60^1. stand thou on.
61^1. the _wanting_.
63^2. mayst forthwith.
64^3. there is.
66^2. takest.
66^3. than.
66^4. pound.
69^1. of courage.
69^2. he can.
70^1. that horse.
73^1. that _wanting_.
73^3. kept.
74^4. in their.
75^4. then.
77^2. now that this.
81^4. would I.
82^4. kind of _wanting_.
85^4. I cannot.
87^1. thou say'st.
89^4. And her.
90^1. thoult.
90^2. loose: 't is.
91^4. needs must.
92^2. get behind him so.
93^3. I'le.
93^4. the one.
94^4. never try: _right?_
96^4. _Ritson prints_ slain is he.
98^3. estate.
101^4. thou'st have.
103^1. for _wanting_.
104^1. ladies in.
104^2. ladies of.
_A copy in_ "Northern Penny Histories," Bodleian Library, Douce, p. p. 172, London, William Dicey, _which may date about 1725, is somewhat modernized and has not a few petty variations. Only the following readings seem worth the noting._
9^2. fast he did.
15^1. my will.
19^3. Salisbury Castle.
44^1. you make.
60^1. stand on.
85^1. How for.
94^4. never try.
96^4. have I.
_This copy has an additional stanza:_
106. The lady she did loyal prove, As many do in Scotland know, And how they spent their days in love The Second Book shall plainly show.
#C.#
The two constant Lovers in Scotland, or, A pattern of true Love, expressed in this ensuing Dialogue between an Earls daughter in Scotland and a poor Serving-man; she refusing to marry the Lord Fenix, which her father would force her to take, but clave to her first Love, Tomey o'th Pots.
And _for_ &.
29^3. senninght.
47^2. self.
_After_ 38: The Second Part.
110
THE KNIGHT AND SHEPHERD'S DAUGHTER
#A.# 'The Beautifull Shepherdesse of Arcadia.' #a.# Roxburghe Ballads, III, 160, 161. #b.# Roxburghe Ballads, II, 30, 31. 27 stanzas.
#B.# 'Shepherd's Dochter,' Kinloch MSS, V, 255. 33 stanzas.
#C.# 'Earl Richard,' Kinloch MSS, VII, 69. 30 stanzas.
#D.# Kinloch MSS, VII, 68, fragments. 16 stanzas.
#E.# 'Earl Richard, the Queen's Brother.' #a.# Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 81. #b.# Motherwell's MS., p. 459; Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 377. 60 stanzas.
#F.# 'Earl Lithgow.' #a.# Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 91. 63 stanzas. #b.# Christie's Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 184. 22 stanzas.
#G.# 'Jo Janet,' Gibb MS., No 1. 34 stanzas.
#H.# 'The Shepherd's Daughter,' Kinloch MSS, V, 20; also, Kinloch MSS, VII, 61, and Kinloch's Scottish Ballads, p. 25. 19 stanzas.
#I.# Communicated by Dr Thomas Davidson, from his own recollection. 11 stanzas.
#J.# 'Earl Richard,' Dr J. Robertson's Journal of Excursions, No 7. 17(?) stanzas.
#K.# 'The Knight and the Shepherd's Daughter,' Motherwell's MS., p. 226. 18 stanzas.
#L.# Motherwell's Note-Book, p. 1. 3 stanzas.
The only English version of this ballad is a broadside, found in the Roxburghe Collection.[172] It was given from a black-letter copy, with changes and the omission of stanza 4, in the Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, 1765, III, 75. Hearne, in his preface to Guilielmi Neubrigensis Historia, I, lxx (cited by Percy), remarks that some impressions were adorned with the picture of a queen, meant, as he maintains, to be Elizabeth, and quotes the first stanza.[173] From this Percy infers that the ballad was popular in Elizabeth's time, a supposition probable enough in itself, and confirmed by the fifteenth stanza occurring (as Percy notes) in Fletcher's comedy of 'The Pilgrim,' 1621.[174]
Motherwell, Minstrelsy, Introduction, p. lxvi, says that the ballad was current in Scotland in many shapes (1827).
The copy in Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 13, is #C#, with the stanzas given here as #D# incorporated into it from another version.
Kinloch is fully justified in claiming for the Scottish ballad a decided superiority. The humorous artifices which the lady practises to maintain the character of a beggar's brat are, as he says, kept up with great spirit and fancy, and, as far as we know, are entirely of Scottish invention. It might perhaps be objected that in the course of tradition they have been exaggerated in later copies to a point threatening weariness.
The passage in which the knight rides off and is followed so closely by the maid, through river and all, #A# 6-8, #B# 5-10, etc., is found also in 'Child Waters,' #A# 11-16, #B# 4-11, etc., and suits both ballads perhaps equally well.
Parts of this ballad inevitably suggest a parallel with the tales belonging to the class of the 'Marriage of Sir Gawain.'[175] In the Wife of Bath's Tale, a lusty bachelor who has been out hawking meets a maid walking, and forces her to yield to his will. The offence is brought before King Arthur,[176] and the knight, as he is also called, is condemned to death. The alternative of marrying is so distasteful to him that he tries every means to avoid it. 'Take all my good,' he says to the woman, 'but let my body go.' But all for naught. Dame Ragnell makes a point of being wedded in high style; so does our shepherd's daughter in #E# 37, 38, #F# 38, 39. In Gower, the knight takes the woman on his horse and rides away sighing; and they also have a cauld and eerie ride in #E# 39. The bride becomes, if possible, more and more repulsive in the Gawain tales, and endeavors to make herself so in the ballad. As in the tales, so in the ballad, the bridegroom will not turn about and make much of her, #C# 29, #E# 56, #G# 30. The ugly woman turns out to be a king's daughter in Gower's tale, a most desirable wife in all the others; and the shepherdess is a king's daughter in #B#, #E#, #F#, #K#, and at least an excellent match in other copies. The knight is nephew to a king or emperor in three of the tales, and the queen's brother or the king's in nearly all the ballads.[177] Even the Billy Blin in #F# 60-63, #G# 31, 32, cf. #D# 15,16, looks like a remnant of the fairy machinery of the Gawain tales.
The tragic ballad of 'Ebbe Galt,' Danske Viser, II, 47, No 63, has several features in common with 'The Knight and Shepherd's Daughter.' Ebbe Galt has been drinking heavily with the king's men. Riding home through a wood, he meets in an evil hour a farmer's pretty wife, and offers her presents to show him the way to the town. She undertakes to do so, though much afraid. They come to the farmer's house. Ebbe Galt begins to ban and beat, and in the end ravishes the woman, using extreme cruelty. She says, Now you have had your will of me, with little good to either of us, for God's sake tell me your name.[178] He declares himself to be Ebbe Galt. The farmer comes home and is told all. He comforts his wife and goes to make his plaint to the king. If any man in the court has done this, says the king, it shall cost him his life. When he learns that the man is his nephew, he would rather than half Denmark not have pronounced so harsh a doom. Ebbe Galt is summoned to answer for himself. He is not much better sober than drunk, though the ballad lays the fault on ale. He tells the farmer to produce his wife; she will make no complaint. The woman gives her evidence. She had treated Ebbe Galt with all hospitality as her husband's guest. He had broken in the doors of the room where she was with her children, beaten five maids and killed three swains. Ebbe's father offers his horse and a thousand mark as ransom. The king says that he himself, if it lay in him, would have redeemed the youth with three thousand; Ebbe Galt shall die. While they are taking him off, Ebbe is flippant: he would not mind losing his life had the woman been prettier.
There is a very favorite Scandinavian ballad, see 'Tærningspillet,' Grundtvig, IV, 402, No 238, in which a fair lady challenges a young horse-boy, or boatswain, to play tables with her, and after having won from him all he has, stakes herself against his shoes or the like. The youth now wins; she makes him handsome offers, rising constantly in value, to let her off, but he will not. God pity me! she says; but he reveals to her that her case is not a bad one, for he is the best king's son in the world.[179]
An imitation of the English ballad by Laplace, 'Lise et Mainfroi,' 1740, terminates more sentimentally. The shepherdess persists that she will have the hand which the king has awarded her, until she stands before the altar. She then declares that her sense of honor has been satisfied, and resigns a very advantageous match (for she is not a princess in disguise), with "Puisses-tu du moins quelquefois te souvenir de ta bergère!" Mainfroi exclaims in a transport, Stay, deign to be my wife! the king and all the court unite in the entreaty, and Lise yields. She certainly is entitled to a statuette in porcelain. See Charles Malo, Les Chansons d'Autrefois, pp. 124-128.
* * * * *
The copy in Percy's Reliques is translated by Bodmer, I, 88.
A
#a.# Roxburghe Ballads, III, 160, 161. #b.# The same, II, 30, 31.
1 There was a shepherd's daughter Came triping on the way, And there she met a courteous knight, Which caused her to stay. Sing trang dil do lee
2 'Good morow to you, beautious maid,' These words pronounced he; 'O I shall dye this day,' he said, 'If I have not my will of thee.'
3 'The Lord forbid,' the maid reply'd, 'That such a thing should be, That ever such a courteous yong knight Should dye for love of me.'
4 He took her by the middle so small, And laid her down on the plain, And after he had had his will, He took her up again.
5 'Now you have had your wil, good sir, And put my body thus to shame, Even as you are a courteous knight, Tel me what is your name.'
6 'Some men do call me Jack, sweet heart, And some do call me John, But when I come to the king's [fair] court, They call me Sweet William.'
7 He set his foot in the stirrop, And away then did he ride; She tuckt her kirtle about her middle, And run close by his side.
8 But when she came to the broad water, She set her brest and swom, And when she was got out again, She took her heels and run.
9 He never was the courteous knight To say, Fair maid, will you ride? Nor she never was so loving a maid To say, Sir Knight, abide.
10 But when she came to the king's fair court, She knocked at the ring; So ready was the king himself To let this fair maid in.
11 'O Christ you save, my gracious leige, Your body Christ save and see! You have got a knight within your court This day hath robbed me.
12 'What hath he robbed thee of, fair maid? Of purple or of pall? Or hath he took thy gay gold ring, From off thy finger small?'
13 'He hath not robbed me, my liege, Of purple nor of pall; But he hath got my maidenhead, Which grieves me worst of all.'
14 'Now if he be a batchelor, His body I'le give to thee; But if he be a married man, High hanged shall he be.'
15 He called down his merry men all, By one, by two, and by three; Sweet William was us'd to be the first, But now the last comes hee.
16 He brought her down full forty pound, Ty'd up with[in] a glove: 'Fair maid, I give the same to the, And seek another love.'
17 'O I'le have none of your gold,' she said, 'Nor I'le have none of your fee; But I must have your fair body The king hath given me.'
18 Sweet William ran and fetcht her then Five hundred pound in gold, Saying, Fair maid, take this unto thee; Thy fault will never be told.
19 ''T is not your gold that shall me tempt,' These words then answered she, 'But I must have your own body; So the king hath granted me.'
20 'Would I had drank the fair water When I did drink the wine, That ever any shepherd's daughter Should be a fair lady of mine!
21 Would I had drunk the puddle-water When I did drink the ale, That ever any shepherd's daughter Should have told me such a tale!'
22 'A shepheard's daughter as I was, You might have let me be; I'd never come to the king's fair court To have craved any love of thee.'
23 He set her on a milk-white steed, And himselfe upon a gray; He hung a bugle about his neck, And so they rode away.
24 But when they came unto the place Where marriage rites were done, She provd her self a duke's daughter, And he but a squire's son.
25 'Now you have married me, sir knight, Your pleasures may be free; If you make me lady of one good town, I'le make you lord of three.'
26 'Accursed be the gold,' he said, 'If thou hadst not bin true, That should have parted thee from me, To have chang'd thee for a new.'
27 Their hearts being then so linked fast, And joyning hand in hand, He had both purse and person too, And all at his command.
B
Kinloch MSS, V, 255, in the handwriting of Mr Kinloch.
1 There was a shepherd's dochter Kept sheep upon yon hill, And by cam a gay braw gentleman, And wad hae had his will.
2 He took her by the milk-white hand, And laid her on the ground, And whan he got his will o her He lift her up again.
3 'O syne ye've got your will o me, Your will o me ye've taen, 'T is all I ask o you, kind sir, Is to tell to me your name.'
4 'Sometimes they call me Jack,' he said, 'Sometimes they call me John, But whan I am in the king's court, My name is Wilfu Will.'
5 Then he loup on his milk-white steed, And straught away he rade, And she did kilt her petticoats, And after him she gaed.
6 He never was sae kind as say, O lassie, will ye ride? Nor ever had she the courage to say, O laddie, will ye bide!
7 Until they cam to a wan water, Which was called Clyde, And then he turned about his horse, Said, Lassie, will ye ride?
8 'I learned it in my father's hall, I learned it for my weel, That whan I come to deep water, I can swim as it were an eel.
9 'I learned it in my mother's bower, I learned it for my better, That whan I come to broad water, I can swim like ony otter.'
10 He plunged his steed into the ford, And straught way thro he rade, And she set in her lilly feet, And thro the water wade.
11 And whan she cam to the king's court, She tirled on the pin, And wha sae ready's the king himsel To let the fair maid in?
12 'What is your will wi me, fair maid? What is your will wi me?' 'There is a man into your court This day has robbed me.'
13 'O has he taen your gold,' he said, 'Or has he taen your fee? Or has he stown your maidenhead, The flower of your bodye?'
14 'He has na taen my gold, kind sir, Nor as little has he taen my fee, But he has taen my maidenhead, The flower of my bodye.'
15 'O gif he be a married man, High hangit shall he be, But gif he be a bachelor, His body I'll grant thee.'
16 'Sometimes they call him Jack,' she said, 'Sometimes they call him John, But whan he's in the king's court, His name is Sweet William.'
17 'There's not a William in a' my court, Never a one but three, And one of them is the Queen's brother; I wad laugh gif it war he.'
18 The king called on his merry men, By thirty and by three; Sweet Willie, wha used to be foremost man, Was the hindmost a' but three.
19 O he cam cripple, and he cam blind, Cam twa-fald oer a tree: 'O be he cripple, or be he blind, This very same man is he.'
20 'O whether will ye marry the bonny may, Or hang on the gallows-tree?' 'O I will rather marry the bonny may, Afore that I do die.'
21 But he took out a purse of gold, Weel locked in a glove: 'O tak ye that, my bonny may, And seek anither love.'
22 'O I will hae none o your gold,' she says, 'Nor as little ony of your fee, But I will hae your ain body, The king has granted me.'
23 O he took out a purse of gold, A purse of gold and store; 'O tak ye that, fair may,' he said, 'Frae me ye'll neer get mair.'
24 'O haud your tongue, young man,' she says, 'And I pray you let me be; For I will hae your ain body, The king has granted me.'
25 He mounted her on a bonny bay horse, Himsel on the silver grey; He drew his bonnet out oer his een, He whipt and rade away.
26 O whan they cam to yon nettle bush, The nettles they war spread: 'O an my mither war but here,' she says, 'These nettles she wad sued.'
27 'O an I had drank the wan water Whan I did drink the wine, That eer a shepherd's dochter Should hae been a love o mine!'
28 'O may be I'm a shepherd's dochter, And may be I am nane; But you might hae ridden on your ways, And hae let me alane.'
29 O whan they cam unto yon mill, She heard the mill clap: . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
30 'Clap on, clap on, thou bonny mill, Weel may thou, I say, For mony a time thou's filled my pock Wi baith oat-meal and grey.'
31 'O an I had drank the wan water Whan I did drink the wine, That eer a shepherd's dochter Should hae been a love o mine!'
32 'O may be I'm a shepherd's dochter, And may be I am nane; But you might hae ridden on your ways, And hae let me alane.
33 'But yet I think a fitter match Could scarcely gang thegither Than the King of France's auld dochter And the Queen of Scotland's brither.'
C
Kinloch's MSS, VII, 69; apparently from the recitation of Mrs Charles of Torry, Aberdeen, born in Mearnshire.
1 There was a shepherd's dochter Kept sheep on yonder hill; Bye cam a knicht frae the High College, And he wad hae his will.
2 Whan he had got his wills o her, His will as he has taen: 'Wad ye be sae gude and kind As tell to me your name?'
3 'Some ca's me Jock, some ca's me John, Some disna ken my name, But whan I'm into the king's court, Mitchcock is my name.'
4 'Mitchcock! hey!' the lady did say, And spelt it oure again; 'If that 's your name in the Latin tongue, Earl Richard is your name!'
5 O jumpt he upon his horse, And said he wad go ride; Kilted she her green claithing, And said she wad na bide.
6 The knicht rade on, the lady ran, A live-lang simmer's day, Till they cam to a wan water Was calld the river Tay.
7 'Jump on behind, ye weill-faurd may, Or do ye chuse to ride?' 'No, thank ye, sir,' the lady said, 'I rather chuse to wade;' And afore that he was mid-water, She was at the ither side.
8 'Turn back, turn back, ye weill-faurd may, My heart will brak in three:' 'And sae did mine in yon bonny hill-side, Whan ye wad [na] lat me be.'
9 'Whare gat ye that gay claithing This day I see on thee?' 'My mither was a gude milk-nurse, And a gude nourice was she; She nursd the Earl of Stockford's daughter, And gat aw this to me.'
10 Whan she cam to the king's court, She rappit wi a ring; Sae ready as the king himsel Was to let the lady in!
11 'There is a knicht into your court This day has robbed me:' 'O has he taen your gowd,' he says, 'Or has he taen your fee?'
12 'He has na taen my gowd,' she says, 'Nor yet has he my fee; But he has taen my maiden-head, The flowr o my fair bodie.'
13 Then out bespak the queen hersel, Wha sat by the king's knee: There's na a knicht in aw our court Wad hae dune that to thee, Unless it war my brither, Earl Richard, And forbid it it war he!
14 Wad ye ken your love, Amang a hunder men? 'I wad,' said the bonnie ladie, 'Amang five hunder and ten.'
15 The king made aw his merry men pass, By ane, by twa, and three; Earl Richard us'd to be the first man, But he was hinmost man that day.
16 He cam hauping on ane foot, And winking with ae ee; But 'Ha! ha!' said the bonnie ladie, 'That same young man are ye.'
17 He's taen her up to a hie towr-head And offerd her hunder punds in a glove: 'Gin ye be a courteous maid, Ye'll choice anither love.'
18 'What care I for your hunder pund? Na mair than ye wad for mine; What's a hunder pund to me, To a marriage wi a king!'
19 Whan the marriage it was oure, And ilk ane took them horse, 'It never set a beggar's brat At nae knicht's back to be.'
20 The ladie met wi a beggar-wife, And gied her half o crown: 'Tell aw your neebours, whan ye gang hame, That Earl Richard's your gude-son.'
21 'O hold your tongue, ye beggar's brat, My heart will brak in three;' 'And sae did mine on yon bonny hill-side, Whan ye wad na let me be.'
22 Whan she cam to yon nettle-dyke, . . . . . . . 'An my auld mither she was here, Sae weill as she wad ye pu.
23 'She wad boil ye weill, and butter ye weill, And sup till she war fu, And lay her head upon her dish-doup, And sleep like onie sow.'
24 Whan she cam to Earl Richard's house, The sheets war holland fine: 'O haud awa thae linen sheets, And bring to me the linsey clouts I hae been best used in.'
25 ['Awa, awa wi your siller spoons, Haud them awa frae me; It would set me better to feed my flocks Wi the brose-cap on my knee: Sae bring to me the gude ram's horn, The spoons I've been used wi.']
26 'Hold your tongue, ye beggar's brat, My heart will brak in three;' 'And sae did mine on yon bonnie hill-side, Whan ye wadna lat me be.'
27 'I wish I had drank the well-water Whan first I drank the wine! Never a shepherd's dochter Wad hae been a love o mine.
28 'O I wish I'd drank the well-water Whan first I drank the beer, That ever a shepherd's dochter Shoud hae been my only dear!'
* * * * * * *
29 'Ye'll turn about, Earl Richard, And mak some mair o me; An ye mak me lady o ae puir plow, I can mak ye laird o three.'
30 'If ye be the Earl of Stockford's dochter, As I've taen some thouchts ye be, Aft hae I waited at your father's yett, But your face I coud never see.'
D
Kinloch's MSS, VII, 68; apparently from the recitation of Jenny Watson of Lanark, aged seventy-three. Only such portions of this version were preserved as differed considerably from #C#.
* * * * * * *
1 And he was never sae discreet As bid her loup on and ride, And she was neer sae meanly bred As for to bid him bide.
2 And whan she cam to yon water, It was running like a flude: 'I've learned it in my mither's bouer, I've learned it for my gude, That I can soum this wan water Like a fish in a flude.
3 'I've learned it in my father's bouer, I've learned it for my better, And I will soum this wan water As tho I was ane otter.'
* * * * * * *
4 'Gude day, gude day, my liege the king, Gude day, gude day, to thee;' 'Gude day,' quo he, 'my lady fair, What want ye wi me?'
* * * * * * *
5 'Gin he be a single man, His bodie I'll gie thee; But gin he be a married man, I'll hang him on a tree.'
* * * * * * *
6 He's powd out a hundred punds, Weel lockit in a glove; . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
7 'I'll hae nane o your gowd,' she said, 'Nor either o your fee; But I will hae your ain bodie The king has granted me.'
8 'O was ye gentle gotten, maid? Or was ye gentle born? Or hae ye onie gerss growing? Or hae ye onie corn?
9 'Or hae ye onie lands or rents, Lying at libertie? Or hae ye onie education, To dance alang wi me?'
10 'I was na gentle gotten, madam, Nor was I gentle born; Neither hae I gerss growing, Nor hae I onie corn.
11 'I have na onie lands or rents, Lying at libertie; Nor hae I onie education, To dance alang wi thee.'
12 He lap on ae milk-white steed, And she lap on anither, And then the twa rade out the way Like sister and like brither.
13 And whan she cam to Tyne's water, She wililie did say, Fareweil, ye mills o Tyne's water, With thee I bid gude-day.
14 Fareweil, ye mills o Tyne's water, To you I bid gud-een, Whare monie a day I hae filld my pock, Baith at midnicht and at een.
* * * * * * *
15 Whan they cam to her father's yett, She tirled on the pin; And an auld belly-blind man was sitting there, As they war entering in.
16 'The meetest marriage,' the belly-blind did cry, 'Atween the ane and the ither, Atween the Earl of Stockford's dochter And the Queen o England's brither.'
E
#a.# Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 81, from Mr Nicol of Strichen, as learned in his youth from old people. #b.# Motherwell's MS., p. 459, derived, no doubt, from Buchan.
1 Earl Richard, once upon a day, And all his valiant men so wight, He did him down to Barnisdale, Where all the land is fair and light.
2 He was aware of a damosel-- I wot fast on she did her bound-- With towers of gold upon her head, As fair a woman as could be found.
3 He said, Busk on you, fair ladye, The white flowers and the red; For I would give my bonnie ship To get your maidenhead.
4 'I wish your bonnie ship rent and rive, And drown you in the sea; For all this would not mend the miss That ye would do to me.' 'The miss is not so great, ladye; Soon mended it might be.
5 'I have four an twenty mills in Scotland, Stands on the water of Tay; You'll have them, and as much flour As they'll grind in a day.'
6 'I wish your bonnie ship rent and rive, And drown you in the sea; For all that would not mend the miss That ye would do to me.' 'The miss is not so great, ladye; Soon mended it will be.
7 'I have four an twenty milk-white cows, All calved in a day; You'll have them, and as much haind grass As they all on can gae.'
8 'I wish your bonnie ship rent and rive, And drown you in the sea; For all that would not mend the miss That ye would do to me.' 'The miss is not so great, ladye; Soon mended it might be.
9 'I have four an twenty milk-white steeds, All foaled in one year; You'll have them, and as much red gold As all their backs can bear.'
10 She turned her right and round about, And she swore by the mold; 'I would not be your love,' said she, 'For that church full of gold.'
11 He turned him right and round about, And he swore by the mess; Says, Ladye, ye my love shall be, And gold ye shall have less.
12 She turned her right and round about, And she swore by the moon; 'I would not be your love,' says she, 'For all the gold in Rome.'
13 He turned him right and round about, And he swore by the moon; Says, Ladye, ye my love shall be, And gold ye shall have none.
14 He caught her by the milk-white hand, And by the grass-green sleeve, And there has taken his will of her, Wholly without her leave.
15 The ladye frownd, and sadly blushd, And oh, but she thought shame! Says, If you are a knight at all, You surely will tell me your name.
16 'In some places they call me Jack, In other some they call me John; But when into the queen's court, O then Lithcock it is my name!'
17 'Lithcock! Lithcock!' the ladye said, And oft she spelt it ower again; 'Lithcock! it's Latin,' the ladye said, 'Richard's the English of that name.'
18 The knight he rode, the ladye ran, A live-long summer's day. Till they came to the wan water That all men do call Tay.
19 He set his horse head to the water, Just thro it for to ride, And the ladye was as ready as him The waters for to wade.
20 For he had never been as kind-hearted As to bid the ladye ride, And she had never been so low-hearted As for to bid him bide.
21 But deep into the wan water There stands a great big stone; He turned his wight horse head about, Said, Ladye fair, will ye loup on?
22 She's taken the wand was in her hand And struck it on the faem, And before he got the middle-stream The ladye was on dry land: 'By help of God and our Lady, My help lyes not in your hand!
23 'I learned it from my mother dear, Few are there that have learned better, When I come to deep water, I can swim thro like ony otter.
24 'I learned it from my mother dear, I find I learnd it for my weel, When I come to a deep water, I can swim thro like ony eel.'
25 'Turn back, turn back, you ladye fair, You know not what I see; There is a ladye in that castle That will burn you and me.' 'Betide me weel, betide me wae, That ladye I will see.'
26 She took a ring from her finger, And gave it the porter for his fee; Says, Take you that, my good porter, And bid the queen speak to me.
27 And when she came before the queen, There she fell low down on her knee; Says, There is a knight into your court This day has robbed me.
28 'O has he robbed you of your gold, Or has he robbed you of your fee?' 'He has not robbed me of my gold, He has not robbed me of my fee; He has robbed me of my maidenhead, The fairest flower of my bodie.'
29 'There is no knight in all my court, That thus has robbed thee, But you'll have the truth of his right hand, Or else for your sake he'll die:
30 'Tho it were Earl Richard, my own brother, And, Oh, forbid that it be!' Then sighing said the ladye fair, I wot the same man is he.
31 The queen called on her merry men, Even fifty men and three; Earl Richard used to be the first man, But now the hindmost man was he.
32 He's taken out one hundred pounds, And told it in his glove; Says, Take you that, my ladye fair, And seek another love.
33 'Oh, no! oh, no!' the ladye cried, 'That's what shall never be; I'll have the truth of your right hand, The queen it gave to me.'
34 ['I wish I'd drunken your water, sister, When I did drink thus of your ale, That for a carl's fair daughter It does me gar dree all this bale!]
35 'I wish I had drunk of your water, sister, When I did drink your wine, That for a carle's fair daughter It does gar me dree all this pine!'
36 'May be I am a carle's daughter, And may be never nane; When ye met me in the greenwood, Why did you not let me alane?'
37 'Will you wear the short clothes, Or will you wear the side? Or will you walk to your wedding, Or will you till it ride?'
38 'I will not wear the short clothes, But I will wear the side; I will not walk to my wedding, But I to it will ride.'
39 When he was set upon the horse, The lady him behin, Then cauld and eerie were the words The twa had them between.
40 She said, Good e'en, ye nettles tall, Just there where ye grow at the dyke; If the auld carline my mother were here, Sae weel's she would your pates pyke!
41 How she would stap you in her poke-- I wot at that she wadna fail-- And boil ye in her auld brass pan, And of ye make right good kail!
42 And she would meal you with millering, That she gathers at the mill, And make you thick as ony daigh: And when the pan was brimful,
43 Would mess you up in scuttle-dishes, Syne bid us sup till we were fou, Lay down her head upon a poke, Then sleep and snore like ony sow.
44 'Away, away, you bad woman! For all your vile words grieveth me; When you hide so little for yourself, I'm sure ye'll hide far less for me.
45 'I wish I had drunk your water, sister, When that I did drink of your wine, Since for a carle's fair daughter, It aye gars me dree all this pine.'
46 'May be I am a carle's daughter, And may be never nane; When ye met me in the good greenwood, Why did you not let me alane?
47 'Gude een, gude een, ye heather-berries, As ye're growing on yon hill; If the auld carline and her bags were here, I wot she would get meat her fill.
48 'Late, late at night, I knit our pokes, With even four an twenty knots; And in the morn at breakfast time I'll carry the keys of an earl's locks.
49 'Late, late at night, I knit our pokes, With even four an twenty strings; And if you look to my white fingers, They have as many gay gold rings.'
50 'Away, away, ye ill woman! So sore your vile words grieveth me; When you hide so little for yourself, I'm sure ye'll hide far less for me.
51 'But if you are a carle's daughter, As I take you to be, How did you get the gay cloathing In greenwood ye had on thee?'
52 'My mother, she's a poor woman, She nursed earl's children three, And I got them from a foster-sister, For to beguile such sparks as thee.'
53 'But if you be a carle's daughter, As I believe you be, How did you learn the good Latin In greenwood ye spoke to me?'
54 'My mother, she's a mean woman, She nursd earl's children three; I learnt it from their chaplain, To beguile such sparks as ye.'
55 When mass was sung, and bells were rung, And all men bound for bed, Then Earl Richard and this ladye In ae bed they were laid.
56 He turned his face unto the stock, And she her's to the stane, And cauld and dreary was the love That was these twa between.
57 Great mirth was in the kitchen, Likewise intill the ha, But in his bed lay Earl Richard, Wiping the tears awa.
58 He wept till he fell fast asleep, Then slept till light was come; Then he did hear the gentlemen That talked in the room:
59 Said, Saw ye ever a fitter match, Betwixt the ane and ither, The king of Scotland's fair dochter And the queen of England's brither?
60 'And is she the king o Scotland's fair dochter? This day, O weel is me! For seven times has my steed been saddled, To come to court with thee; And with this witty lady fair, How happy must I be!'
F
#a.# Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 91; from the recitation of an old person. #b.# Christie's Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 184.
1 Earl Lithgow he's a hunting gane, Upon a summer's day, And he's fa'en in with a weel-far'd maid, Was gathering at the slaes.
2 He's taen her by the milk-white hand, And by the grass-green sleeve; He led her to the foot of a tree, At her he spierd nae leave.
3 The lassie being well learned, She turned her right around; Says, Will ye be as good, kind sir, As tell to me your name?
4 'Whiles they call me Jack,' he says, 'And whiles they call me John; But when I'm in the queen's high court, Earl Litchcock is my name.'
5 The lassie being well learned, She spelld it ower again; Says, Litchcock is a Latin word, But Lithgow is your name.
6 The lassie being well learned, She spelld it ower again; Says, Lithgow is a gentle word, But Richard is your name.
7 She has kilted her green claithing A little abeen her knee; The gentleman rode, and the lassie ran, Till at the water o Dee.
8 When they were at the water o Dee, And at the narrow side, He turned about his high horse head, Says, Lassie, will ye ride?
9 'I learned it in my mother's bower, I wish I had learned it better, When I came to this wan water, To swim like ony otter.
10 'I learned it in my mother's bower, I wish I had learned it weel, That when I came to a wan water, To swim like ony eel.'
11 She has kilted her green claithing A little abeen her knee; The gentleman rode, the lassie swam, Thro the water o Dee: Before he was at the middle o the water, At the other side was she.
12 She sat there and drest hersell, And sat upon a stone; There she sat to rest hersell, And see how he'd come on.
13 'How mony miles hae ye to ride? How mony hae I to gang?' 'I've thirty miles to ride,' he says, 'And ye've as mony to gang.'
14 'If ye've thirty miles to ride,' she says, 'And I've as mony to gae, Ye'll get leave to gang yoursell; It will never be gane by me.'
15 She's gane to the queen's high court, And knocked at the pin; Who was sae ready as the proud porter, To let this lady in!
16 She's put her hand in her pocket, And gien him guineas three: 'Ye will gang to the queen hersell, And tell her this frae me.
17 'There is a lady at your yetts Can neither card nor spin; But she can sit in a lady's bower, And lay gold on a seam.'
18 He's gane ben thro ae lang room, And he's gane ben thro twa, Till he came to a lang, lang trance, And then came to the ha.
19 When he came before the queen, Sat low down on his knee: 'Win up, win up, my proud porter, What makes this courtesie?'
20 'There is a lady at your yetts Can neither card nor spin; But she can sit in a lady's bower, And lay gold on a seam.'
21 'If there is a lady at my yetts That cannot card nor spin, Ye'll open my yetts baith wide and braid, And let this lady in.'
22 Now she has gane ben thro ae room, And she's gane ben thro twa, And she gaed ben a lang, lang trance, Till she came to the ha.
23 When she came before the queen, Sat low down on her knee: 'Win up, win up, my fair woman, What makes such courtesie?'
24 'My errand it's to thee, O queen, My errand it's to thee; There is a man within your courts This day has robbed me.'
25 'O has he taen your purse, your purse, Or taen your penny-fee? Or has he taen your maidenhead, The flower of your bodie?'
26 'He hasna taen my purse, my purse, Nor yet my penny-fee, But he has taen my maidenhead, The flower of my bodi'
27 'It is if he be a batchelor, Your husband he shall be; But if he be a married man, High hanged he shall be.
28 'Except it be my brother, Litchcock, I hinna will it be he;' Sighd and said that gay lady, That very man is he.
29 She's calld on her merry men a', By ane, by twa, by three; Earl Litchcock used to be the first, But the hindmost man was he.
30 He came cripple on the back, Stane blind upon an ee; And sighd and said Earl Richard, I doubt this calls for me.
31 He's laid down a brand, a brand, And next laid down a ring; It's thrice she minted to the brand, But she's taen up the ring: There's not a knight in a' the court, But calld her a wise woman.
32 He's taen out a purse of gold, And tauld it on a stane; Says, Take ye that, my fair woman, And ye'll frae me be gane.
33 'I will hae nane o your purse[s] o gold, That ye tell on a stane; But I will hae yoursell,' she says, 'Another I'll hae nane.'
34 He has taen out another purse, And tauld it in a glove; Says, Take ye that, my fair woman, And choice another love.
35 'I'll hae nane o your purses o gold, That ye tell in a glove; But I will hae yoursell,' she says, 'I'll hae nae ither love.'
36 But he's taen out another purse, And tauld it on his knee; Said, Take ye that, ye fair woman, Ye'll get nae mair frae me.
37 'I'll hae nane o your purses o gold, That ye tell on your knee; But I will hae yoursell,' she says, 'The queen has granted it me.'
38 'O will ye hae the short claithing, Or will ye hae the side? Or will ye gang to your wedding, Or will ye to it ride?'
39 'I winna hae the short claithing, But I will hae the side; I winna gang to my wedding, But to it I will ride.'
40 The first town that they came till They made the mass be sung, And the next town that they came till They made the bells be rung.
41 And the next town that they came till He bought her gay claithing, And the next town that they came till They held a fair wedding.
42 When they came to Mary-kirk, The nettles grew on the dyke: 'If my auld mither, the carlin, were here, Sae well's she would you pyke.
43 'Sae well's she would you pyke' she says, 'She woud you pyke and pou, And wi the dust lyes in the mill Sae woud she mingle you.
44 'She'd take a speen intill her hand, And sup ere she be fou, Syne lay her head upon a sod, And snore like ony sow.'
45 When she came to yon mill-dams, Says, Weel may ye clap; I wyte my minnie neer gaed by you Wanting mony a lick.
46 He's drawn his hat out ower his face, Muckle shame thought he; She's driven her cap out ower her locks, And a light laugh gae she.
47 When they were wedded, and well bedded, And hame at dinner set, Then out it spake our bride hersell, And she spake never blate.
48 Put far awa your china plates, Put them far awa frae me, And bring to me my humble gockies, That I was best used wi.
49 Put far awa your siller speens, Had them far awa frae me, And bring to me my horn cutties, That I was best used wi.
50 When they were dined and well served, And to their dancing set, Out it spake our bride again, For she spake never blate.
51 If the auld carlin, my mither, were here, As I trust she will be, She'll fear the dancing frae us a', And gar her meal-bags flee.
52 When bells were rung, and mass was sung, And a' men bound for rest, Earl Richard and the beggar's daughter In ae chamber were placed.
53 'Had far awa your fine claithing, Had them far awa frae me, And bring to me my fleachy clouts, That I was best used wi.
54 'Had far awa your holland sheets, Had them far awa frae me, And bring to me my canvas clouts, That I was best used wi.
55 'Lay a pock o meal beneath my head, Another aneath my feet, A pock o seeds beneath my knees, And soundly will I sleep.'
56 'Had far awa, ye carlin's get, Had far awa frae me; It disna set a carlin's get My bed-fellow to be.'
57 'It's may be I'm a carlin's get, And may be I am nane; But when ye got me in good greenwood, How letna you me alane?'
58 'It is if you be a carlin's get, As I trust well ye be, Where got ye all the gay claithing You brought to greenwood with thee?'
59 'My mother was an auld nourice, She nursed bairns three; And whiles she got, and whiles she staw, And she kept them a' for me; And I put them on in good greenwood, To beguile fause squires like thee.'
60 It's out then spake the Billy-Blin, Says, I speak nane out of time; If ye make her lady o nine cities, She'll make you lord o ten.
61 Out it spake the Billy-Blin, Says, The one may serve the other; The King of Gosford's ae daughter, And the Queen of Scotland's brother.
62 'Wae but worth you, Billy-Blin, An ill death may ye die! My bed-fellow he'd been for seven years Or he'd kend sae muckle frae me.'
63 'Fair fa ye, ye Billy-Blin, And well may ye aye be! In my stable is the ninth horse I've killd, Seeking this fair ladie: Now we're married, and now we're bedded, And in each other's arms shall lie.'
G
Gibb MS., No 1. From recitation; traced to Mrs E. Lindsay, about 1800.
1 Jo Janet has to the greenwood gane, Wi a' her maidens free, . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
* * * * * * *
2 'Some ca me Jack, some ca me John, Some ca me Jing-ga-lee, But when I am in the queen's court Earl Hitchcock they ca me.'
3 'Hitchcock, Hitchcock,' Jo Janet she said, An spelled it ower agane, 'Hitchcock it's a Latin word; Earl Richard is your name.'
4 But when he saw she was book-learned, Fast to his horse hied he; But she kilted up her gay claithing, An fast, fast followed she.
5 Aye he rade, an aye she ran, The live-lang simmer's day, Till they came to the wan water, An a' men call it Tay.
6 She has tane the narrow fuird, An he has tane the wide, An ere he was in the middle-water, Jo Janet was at the ither side.
7 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . As swift as eel or otter.
8 An when she cam to the queen's court She tirled at the pin, An wha sae ready as the queen hersel To let Jo Janet in!
9 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 'There is a knicht into your court This day has robbed me.'
10 'Has he robbed you o your gold, fair may, Or robbed you o your fee? Or robbed you o your maidenhead, The flower o your bodie?'
11 'He has nae robbed me o my gold,' she said, 'Nor o my weel won fee, But he has robbed me o my maidenhead, The flower o my bodie.'
12 'It's if he be a married knight, It's hanged he shall be; But if he be a single knight, It's married ye sall be.
13 'There's but three knichts into my court This day hae been frae me, An ane is Earl Richard, my brither, An I hope it is na he:' Then sichin said Jo Janet, The very same man is he.
14 The queen has called on her merry men By thirty and by three; He wont to be the foremost man, But hinmost in cam he.
15 'Is this your tricks abroad, Richard, Is this your tricks abroad, Wheneer ye meet a bonny may To lay her on the road?'
* * * * * * *
16 But he took out a purse o gold, . . . . . . . Says, Tak you that, my bonny may, An seek nae mair o me.
17 'I winna hae your gold,' she said, 'I winna hae your fee; I'll hae the troth o your right hand The queen has promised me.'
* * * * * * *
18 As they rade bye yon bonny mill-town Sae fair's the nettles grew; Quoth she, If my auld mither were here, Sae finely's she wad you pu.
19 She wad you nip, she wad you clip, Sae finely's she wad you pu, An pit you on in a wee, wee pat, An sup till she were fu, Syne rowe her heid in her gown-tail, An sleep like ony soo.
20 He drew his hat down ower his broos, An a doon look gae he, But she threw her locks out ower her cocks, An nae ways dung was she.
21 'It's if ye be a beggar's brat, As I dout na but ye be, It's where gat ye the gay claithing That hings down to your knee?'
22 'My mither was nurse to Earl Marshall's dother, An a fine lady is she, An aye when she gets new claithing She casts the auld to me:' An sichin said Earl Richard, My ain true-love is she!
23 But if you be a beggar's brat, As I doutna but ye be, Where got ye the Latin words Ye said in greenwood to me?
24 'My mither was a bad woman, She served sic men as thee, An a' the gear at ever she got She waired it a' on me, An learned me weel the Latin tongue, To beguile sic sparks as thee.'
25 'Awa, awa, ye ill woman, An ill death mat ye dee! . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
26 When they were a' at supper set, An siller spoons gaen roun, It's, 'Haud awa yer siller spoons, Haud them far awa frae me, An bring to me a guid ramshorn, The thing I'm best used wi.'
27 An when they were at supper set, An the ale-caup gaen about, She took it in her arms twa, An sae clean's she lickit it oot.
28 He drew his hat doun ower his broos, An a doun look gae he, But she threw her locks out ower her cocks, An nae ways dung was she.
29 When mass was sung, and bells were rung, An a' men boun to bed, Earl Richard an Jo Janet In ae bed they were laid.
30 He turned his face unto the stock, An sair, sair did he weep; She turned her face unto the wa, An sound she fell asleep.
31 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Billie Blin stood up at their bed-feet.
32 Said, Saw ye ever a fitter match Atween the tane and the tither, The Earl Marshall['s] ae dother An the Queen o Scotland's brither?
33 'Wae be to you for an ill woman, An ill death mat ye dee! For mony's the mare and mare's foal I've bursten seekin thee.'
34 ... a cup o wine, Quoth, Here's to thee and me! If ye mak me lady o ae puir pleugh, I'll mak ye lord o three.
H
Kinloch's MSS, V, 20, in the handwriting of Mr James Beattie, 1820, and from the recitation of one of the Miss Beatties, his aunts, native in The Mearns: also Kinloch MS., VII, 61, and Kinloch's Scottish Ballads, p. 25.
1 There was a shepherd's daughter, Kept sheep on yonder hill; There came a knight o courage bright, And he wad have his will. Diddle, &c.
2 He's taen her by the milk-white hand, Gien her a gown o green; 'O take you that, fair may,' he says, 'There's nae mair o me to be seen.'
3 'Since ye have taen your wills o me, Your wills o me you've taen, Since ye have taen your wills o me, Pray tell to me your name.'
4 'O some they call me Jack, lady, And others call me John; But when I'm in the king's court, Sweet William is my name.'
5 She's kilted up her green clothing A little below her knee, And she is to the king's court, As fast as she could gae.
6 And when she came unto the king, She knelt low on her knee: 'There is a man into your court This day has robbed me.'
7 'Has he robbd you of your gold,' he says, 'Or of your white monie? Or robbd you of the flowery branch, The flower of your bodie?'
8 'He has not robbd me of my gold,' she says, 'Nor of my white monie, But he's robbd me of the flowery branch, The flower of my bodie.'
9 'O if he be a bond-man, High hanged shall he be; But if he be a free man, He'se well provide for thee.'
10 The king's called on his nobles all, By thirty and by three; Sweet William should have been the foremost man, But the hindmost man was he.
11 'Do you not mind yon shepherd's daughter, You met on yonder hill? When a' her flocks were feeding round, Of her you took your will.'
12 And he's taen out a purse o gold, And tied up in a glove; 'Take you that, fair may,' he says, 'And choice for you a love.'
13 O he's taen out three hundred pounds, Tied up in a purse; 'See, take you that, fair may,' he says, 'And that will pay the nurse.'
14 'I'll neither have your gold,' she says, 'Nor yet your white monie, But I will have the king's grant, That he has granted me.'
15 Then he's taen her on a milk-white steed, Himsell upon another, And to his castle they have rode, Like sister and like brother.
16 O ilka nettle that they came to, 'O well mote you grow! For mony a day's my minny and me Pilkit at your pow.'
17 O ilka mill that they came to, 'O well mote you clack! For monie a day's my minnie and me Buckled up our lap.'
* * * * * * *
18 'You're the king of England's ae brother, I trust well that you be; I'm the Earl of Stampford's ae daughter, And he has nae mair but me.'
19 O saw you eer such a near marriage, Between the one and the other, The Earl of Stampford's ae daughter, And the King of England's brother!
I
Communicated by Dr Thomas Davidson, from his own recollection; Aberdeenshire.
1 There was a shepherd's daughter, Kept flocks on yonder hill, And by there cam a courteous knight, Wud fain and hae his will.
* * * * * * *
2 'Some do ca me Jock,' he said, 'And some do ca me John, But when I do ride i the king's high court, Gulelmus is my name.'
* * * * * * *
3 And when she came to the kinges court She tirled at the pin, And wha was there but the king himsel, To lat this fair maid in!
4 'Now Christ you save, my lord,' she said, 'Now Christ you save and see; There is a knicht into your court This day has robbed me.
5 'He's na robbed me o my silken purse, Nor o my white money, But he's robbed me o my maidenheid, The flower o my bodie.'
6 'O gin he be a single man, Weel married sall ye be, But an he be a married man, He's hang upon a tree.'
7 Then he called up his merry men a', By one, by two, and by three, And William should a been the first, But the hindmost man was he.
8 And he cam hirplin on a stick, And blin upon an ee, But sighand said that gay ladie, That same man robbed me.
* * * * * * *
9 'Gin I had drunk the wan water, When I did drink the wine, A cairdman's daughter Should never be a true-love o mine.'
10 'Maybe I'm a cairdman's daughter, And maybe I am nane; But when ye did come to good green wood, Ye sud hae latten me alane.'
11 She set upon a milk-white steed, An himsel on a dapple grey, An she had as much lan in fair Scotlan 'S ye cud ride in a lang simmer's day.
J
Dr Joseph Robertson's Journal of Excursions, No 7. Taken down from a man in the parish of Leochel, Aberdeenshire, February 12, 1829.
* * * * * * *
1 'Some ca'ss me James, some ca'as me John, I carena what they ca me, But when I [am] at hame in my ain country, It's Lispcock that they ca me.'
2 The lassie being well beuk-learned, She spelled it ower again; Says, Lispcock in a Latin beuk Spells Erl Richard in plain.
3 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The lassie kilted up her green claithing, And fast, fast followed on.
4 Till they cam till a wide water, . . . . . . . He's turned his hie horse head about, Says, Lassie will ye ride?
5 'I learned it in my mother's bower, I wish I'd learned it better, Whanever I cam to any wide water, To soum like ony otter.'
6 The laird he chused the ford to ride, The ladie the pot to swim, And or the laird was half water, The ladie was on dry lan.
7 O he rade on to yon hie castell, He rade it richt and roun about; The laird gaed in at ae back-door, But the ladie beet to knock.
8 O out it cam the proud porter, Wi his hat into his han, . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
9 She's pitten her hand in her pocket, Pulld out guineas three, And that she's given to the proud porter, To cause her to get entrance there.
10 The proud porter ran up the stair, O fifteen steps he made but three: 'The prettiest lady stands at yer yetts That ever my een did see.'
11 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 'Goe doun, goe doun, you proud porter, Cause her to cum up to me.'
12 When she gaed in before the queen, She fell low down on her knee: 'There is a man into your courts This day has robbed me.'
13 'Has he robbed you o your fine clothing, Or o your white monie? Or taen frae you your maidenhead, The flower o your bodie?'
14 'He hasna robbed me o my fine clothing, Nor o my white monie, But he's taen frae me my maidenhead, The flower o my bodie.'
15 'O gin he be a married man, High hanged sall he be; And gin he be a batchelere, Well wedded shall ye be.'
16 O she has called in her merry young men, By thirties and by threes; Earl Richard should hae been the foremost man, But the hindmost man was he.
17 He cam limpin on a staff, And blinkin on an ee, And sichand says that gay ladie, That samen man is he.
* * * * * * *
K
Motherwell's MS., p. 226. From the recitation of Widow McCormick, Westbrae, Paisley, 1825; learned of an old woman in Dumbarton, thirty or forty years before.
1 There was a shepherd's daughter, Kept sheep on yonder hill; O by comes a courtier, And fain wud hae his will. We'll go no more a roving, A roving in the night, We'll go no more a roving, Let the moon shine neer so bright. O we'll go [no] more a roving.
2 He took her by the middle so small, And by the grass-green sleeve; He bended her body unto the ground, And of her parents he askd no leave.
3 'Now since you've got your will o me. And brought my fair bodie to shame, All the request I ask of you is, Pray tell me what's your name.'
4 'O some do call me Jack,' he says, 'And some do call me John, But when I am in the king's court, My name is Sweet William.'
5 She took her petticoats by the band, Her mantle oer her arm, And she's awa to the king's court, As fast as she could run.
6 When she came to the king's court, She tinkled at the ring; Who was so ready as the king himsel To let this fair maid in!
7 And when she came before the king, She kneeled low by his knee; 'What's this? what's this, fair maid,' he says, 'What's this you ask of me?'
8 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 'There is a knight into your court This day has robbed me.'
9 'If he robbed you of your gold,' he said, 'It's hanged he must be; If he's robbed you of your maidenhead, His body I grant to thee.'
10 'He's not robbed me of my gold,' she said, 'Nor of my white money, But he's robbed me of my maidenhead, The flower of my bodie.'
11 He's called down his merry men all, By one, by two, by three; John used to be the foremost man, But the hindmost man was he.
12 He took a long purse of gold And wrapped it in a glove: 'Here's to thee, my dearest dear, Go seek some other love.'
13 'I'll have none of your gold,' she says, 'Nor any of your white money, But I'll just have your own bodie The king has granted to me.'
14 'I wish I was drinking the well-water When I drank of the ale, Before a shepherd's daughter Would tell me such a tale.'
15 He got her on a milk-white steed, Himself upon a grey, Then on a day ... This couple rode away.
16 It's when they were coming by the nettle-bush, She said, So well may you grow! For many a day my mammy and me Hae pickled at your pow.
17 When they cam by the mill-door, she said, So well may you clatter! For many a day my mammy and me Pickled at your happer.
18 When they came to the king's court, They reckoned up their kin; She was a king's one dochter, And he but a blacksmith's son.
L
Motherwell's Note-Book, p. 1, recited by Miss Brown, of Glasgow, after a blind aunt.
* * * * * * *
1 'I learned it in my father's bower, And I learned it for the better, That every water I coudna wade, I swam it like an otter. With my low silver ee.
2 'I learned it in my father's bower, And I learned it for my weel, That every water I coudna wade, I swam it like an eel.'
* * * * * * *
3 And he cam hirpling on a stick, And leaning on a tree: 'Be he cripple, or be he blind, The same man is he.'
* * * * *
#A. a.#
The beautifull Shepherdesse of Arcadia. A new pastorell Song of a courteous young Knight and a supposed Shepheard's Daughter. To a gallant tune, called the Shepheards Delight... London, Printed for William Gilbertson. _Gilbertson published 1640-63: Chappell. Dated 1655 in the Museum Catalogue._
4, 6. _Burden_ Trang dang.
7^3. abeut.
10^1. cour.
12^4. fingets.
18^4. faults.
24^2. rights.
27^1. _Perhaps_ to linked.
_Some trivial errors of the press have been corrected._
#b.#
The Beautiful Shepherdess of Arcadia: A new Pastoral Song of a courteous young Knight and a supposed Shepherd's Daughter of Arcadia, in Peloponnesus. To the Tune of The Shepherd's Daughter, &c. London: Printed for A. M., W. O., and T. Thackeray, at the sign of the Angel in Duck [Lane]. _Dated 1680? in the Catalogue._
3^3. yong _wanting_.
4^1. about the middle.
4^2. down _wanting_.
4^3. had got.
5^1. kind sir.
5^2. thus _wanting_.
6^1. men _wanting_.
6^3. fair court.
7^1. into the.
7^2. he did.
7^3. her girdle.
9^3. was never.
10^1. But _wanting_.
11^1. save you.
11^3. got _wanting_.
12^1. of, sweet-heart.
12^4. finger.
13^2. or of.
13^4. most of.
15^3. was _wanting_.
16^2. within.
18^3. to thee.
18^4. fault.
19. not thy.
22. _wanting, in my transcript._
24^2. rites was.
25^2. will be.
25^4. make thee.
26^3. should a.
27^1. being linked so.
27^2. joyned.
#B.#
23^3. tak he.
#C.#
_#C# _and_ #D# _were derived from the recitation of Jenny Watson of Lanark and Mrs Charles of Torry, but which from which we are not distinctly told. An incidental expression of Kinloch's, MSS, VII, 59, may warrant the assigning of_ #C# _to Mrs Charles._ #C# _is written on the right hand of the MS. and_ #D# _on the left, except that the last two stanzas of_ #D# _are written on the right, and a few readings of_ #D# _are written above those of_ #C#. (_The ink of_ #D# _is blacker._)_
6. _omitted by_ Kinloch _in printing._
7^4. wade _altered to_ wyde, _according to the pronunciation._
8^4, 21^4. na _is wanting_.
14^1. Kinloch _prints_ your fause love: _in MS._ [fause].
25. _inserted at p. 23 of_ Kinloch's _interleaved copy of his_ Ancient Scottish Ballads.
#D#
1^3. frae the king's court.
3^4. Earl Richard is my name.
11^1. anie.
14^4. _Altered to_ At midday and.
16^3. cried the.
17^1. He powd out a hundred punds.
17^2. Weel lockit in a glove.
27^1. Hoch! had I drank the wan water.
27^3. That... a mill-capon.
#E. a.#
6^4. for me: _see_ 4^4, 8^4.
16^4. Oh.
34. _wanting, supplied from the MS._
44^{3, 4}, 50^{3, 4}. _unless_ hide _is for_ heed, _read_ heed, _as in_ #b#.
#b.#
1^1. on a.
13^3. ye shall be.
18^4. does.
22^1. wand she had in.
22^4. on the.
22^6. help does not lye.
23^1. omits it.
23^2. is there that has.
23^3. to a.
24^3. came.
25^6. will I.
26^2. _omits_ it.
30^4. samen.
31^1. men all.
31^4. _omits_ man.
34. _omitted in_ #a#.
43^2. we be.
44^{3, 4}. When you heed so little of yourself, I'm sure ye'll heed far less nor me.
47^{3, 4}. If the auld carle and his bags were here, I wot he would get meat his fill.
48^1, 49^1. last night.
50. Away, away, you evil woman, How sore your vile words grieve me! When you heed so little on yourself, I know you will heed less on me.
52^4. as ye.
53^1. you are.
55^1. was rung.
55^3. the ladye.
55^4. In one.
56^1. face to.
56^4. thir twa.
57^1. Great was the mirth.
57^2. into.
57^4. And wiping.
60^4. at thee.
_The variations in #b# are probably Motherwell's improvements. He does not adopt all of them in printing, but makes still other slight changes._
#F. b.#
"An epitome (_eleven eight-line stanzas_) of Buchan's version, with some slight alterations from the way the editor has heard the ballad sung."
15^1. The lady to the queen's court gaed.
15^3. And ready was.
16^2. And gae him gowd sae free.
19^2. He lout doun.
23^2. She lout doun.
30^2. And blind.
33^1, 37^1. I will not hae your purse o gowd.
33^4. And other.
39^2. Nor will I hae.
41^3. And when they came to St. Mary's kirk.
62^3. My husband.
#I.#
1^2. _Var._ Kept hogs.
8^3. sigh and.
#J.#
3^3. in, _perhaps, for_ on.
3, 4; 8, 9; 11, 12. _Written without division in the MS._
17^3. sich &.
#K.#
4^1. Oh.
17^4. Hae _added later_; pickled _altered from_ pircled.
[172] And Douce, says Mr Chappell. A Tewkesbury copy, not dated, is mentioned by Halliwell, Notes on Fugitive Tracts, etc., Percy Society, vol. xxix, p. 16, No 9.
[173]
There was a shepherd's daughter Came triping on the way, And there she met a courteous knight, Which caused her to stay. Sing trang dil do lee
[174]
He called down his merry men all, By one, by two, by three; William would fain have been the first, But now the last is he.