Part 53

2 Mony a knight there courted her, And gentlemen o high degree, But it was Thomas o Yonderdale That gaind the love o this ladie.

3 Now he has hunted her till her bower, Baith late at night and the mid day, But when he stole her virgin rose Nae mair this maid he would come nigh.

4 But it fell ance upon a time Thomas her bower he walkëd by; There he saw her Lady Maisry, Nursing her young son on her knee.

5 ‘O seal on you, my bonny babe, And lang may ye my comfort be! Your father passes by our bower, And now minds neither you nor me.’

6 Now when Thomas heard her speak, The saut tear trinkled frae his ee; To Lady Maisry’s bower he went, Says, Now I’m come to comfort thee.

7 ‘Is this the promise ye did make Last when I was in your companie? You said before nine months were gane Your wedded wife that I should be.’

8 ‘If Saturday be a bonny day, Then, my love, I maun sail the sea; But if I live for to return, O then, my love, I’ll marry thee.’

9 ‘I wish Saturday a stormy day, High and stormy be the sea, Ships may not sail, nor boats row, But gar true Thomas stay wi me.’

10 Saturday was a bonny day, Fair and leesome blew the wind; Ships did sail, and boats did row, Which had true Thomas to unco ground.

11 He hadna been on unco ground A month, a month but barely three, Till he has courted anither maid, And quite forgotten Lady Maisry.

12 Ae night as he lay on his bed, In a dreary dream dreamed he That Maisry stood by his bedside, Upbraiding him for’s inconstancie.

13 He’s calld upon his little boy, Says, Bring me candle, that I see; And ye maun gang this night, [my] boy, Wi a letter to a gay ladie.

14 ‘It is my duty you to serve, And bring you coal and candle-light, And I would rin your errand, master, If’t were to Lady Maisry bright.

15 ‘Tho my legs were sair I coudna gang, Tho the night were dark I coudna see, Tho I should creep on hands and feet, I woud gae to Lady Maisry.’

16 ‘Win up, win up, my bonny boy, And at my bidding for to be; For ye maun quickly my errand rin, For it is to Lady Maisry.

17 ‘Ye’ll bid her dress in the gowns o silk, Likewise in the coats o cramasie; Ye’ll bid her come alang wi you, True Thomas’s wedding for to see.

18 ‘Ye’ll bid her shoe her steed before, And a’ gowd graithing him behind; On ilka tip o her horse mane, Twa bonny bells to loudly ring.

19 ‘And on the tor o her saddle A courtly bird to sweetly sing; Her bridle-reins o silver fine, And stirrups by her side to hing.’

20 She dressd her in the finest silk, Her coats were o the cramasie, And she’s awa to unco land, True Thomas’s wedding for to see.

21 At ilka tippet o her horse mane, Twa bonny bells did loudly ring, And on the tor o her saddle A courtly bird did sweetly sing.

22 The bells they rang, the bird he sang, As they rode in yon pleasant plain; Then soon she met true Thomas’s bride, Wi a’ her maidens and young men.

23 The bride she garned round about, ‘I wonder,’ said she, ‘who this may be? It surely is our Scottish queen, Come here our wedding for to see.’

24 Out it speaks true Thomas’s boy, ‘She maunna lift her head sae hie; But it’s true Thomas’s first love, Come here your wedding for to see.’

25 Then out bespake true Thomas’s bride, I wyte the tear did blind her ee; If this be Thomas’s first true-love, I’m sair afraid he’ll neer hae me.

26 Then in it came her Lady Maisry, And aye as she trips in the fleer, ‘What is your will, Thomas?’ she said, ‘This day, ye know, ye calld me here.’

27 ‘Come hither by me, ye lily flower, Come hither and set ye down by me, For ye’re the ane I’ve call’d upon, And ye my wedded wife maun be.’

28 Then in it came true Thomas’s bride, And aye as she trippd on the stane, ‘What is your will, Thomas?’ she said, ‘This day, ye know, ye calld me hame.’

29 ‘Ye hae come on hired horseback, But ye’se gae hame in coach sae free; For here’s the flower into my bower I mean my wedded wife shall be.’

30 ‘O ye will break your lands, Thomas, And part them in divisions three; Gie twa o them to your ae brother, And cause your brother marry me.’

31 ‘I winna break my lands,’ he said, ‘For ony woman that I see; My brother’s a knight o wealth and might, He’ll wed nane but he will for me.’

* * * * *

#b.#

1^4. And a’ stood.

2^1. And mony knight.

2^4. this gay.

8^3. return again.

10^1. And Saturday.

10^4. took true.

13^2. I may see.

13^3. my boy.

16^2. ye maun be.

24^3. ain first.

30^3. Gie ane.

31 ‘O I will break my lands,’ he said, ‘And ae third will I gie to thee; But my brother’s ane o wealth and might, And he’ll wed nane but he will for me.’

254

LORD WILLIAM, OR, LORD LUNDY

#A.# Motherwell’s MS., p. 361. ‘Sweet William,’ Motherwell’s Minstrelsy, p. 307.

#B.# ‘Lord Lundy,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 57.

#C.# ‘Lord William,’ Buchan’s MSS, II, 126; Dixon, Scottish Traditional Versions of Ancient Ballads, p. 57, Percy Society, vol. xvii.

Sweet William (Lord William’s son, or Lord William) and the Baillie’s daughter (Lord Lundy’s daughter) have been lovers: they have in fact been over-sea together, learning “some unco lair.” The young woman’s father recalls her from her studies abroad, and requires her to marry a Southland lord (the young prince of England). She will submit to her father’s will, though she had rather die. In #A# she sends a letter to William by a bird. The minister has begun the marriage-service, when the lover enters the church with a party of armed men and bids the bridegroom stand back; the bride shall join with him. The father fumes; would shoot William if he had a pistol, #A#; will give his daughter no dowry, #B#. William of course cares not the least for dowry; he has what he wants. He tells his ‘foremost man’ to lift his bride on her horse, and sends commendations to her mother.

#A# 4, #B# 10, 11, #C# 6, 7, may be borrowed from ‘Fair Janet,’ No 64, #G# 1, 2, II, 110.

* * * * *

A

Motherwell’s MS., p. 361; from the recitation of Agnes Lyle, an old woman of Kilbarchan.

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

2 In one broad buke they learned baith, In one broad bed they lay; But when her father came to know He gart her come away.

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

4 ‘I must marry that Southland lord, Father, an it be your will; But I rather it were my burial-day, My grave for to fill.’

5 She walked up, she walked down, Had none to make her moan, Nothing but the pretty bird Sat on the causey-stone.

6 ‘If thou could speak, wee bird,’ she says, ‘As weell as thou can flee, I would write a long letter To Will ayont the sea.’

7 ‘What thou wants wi Will,’ it says, ‘Thou’ll seal it with thy ring, Tak a thread o silk and anither o twine, About my neck will hing.’

8 What she wanted wi Willie She sealed it wi a ring, Took a thread of silk, another o twine, About its neck did hing.

9 This bird flew high, this bird flew low, This bird flew owre the sea, Until it entered the same room Wherein was Sweet Willie.

10 This bird flew high, this bird flew low, Poor bird, it was mistaen! It let the letter fa on Baldie’s breist, Instead of Sweet William.

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

12 ‘Come saddle to me my horse,’ he said, ‘The brown and a’ that’s speedie, And I’ll awa to Old England, To bring home my ladie.’

13 Awa he gaed, awa he rade, Awa wi mickle speed; He lichtit at every twa miles’ end, Lichtit and changed his steed.

14 When she entered the church-style, The tear was in her ee; But when she entered the church-door A blythe sicht did she see.

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

16 ‘Stand off, stand off, you braw bridegroom, Stand off a little wee; Stand off, stand off, you braw bridegroom, For the bride shall join wi me.’

17 Up and spak the bride’s father, And an angry man was he; ‘If I had pistol, powther and lead, And all at my command, I would shoot thee stiff and dead In the place where thou dost stand.’

18 Up and spoke then Sweet William, And a blithe blink from his ee; ‘If ye neer be shot till I shoot you, Ye’se neer be shot for me.

19 ‘Come out, come out, my foremost man, And lift my lady on; Commend me all to my good-mother, At night when ye gang home.’

* * * * *

B

Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 57.

1 Lord William has but ae dear son, In this world had nae mair; Lord Lundie had but ae daughter, And he will hae nane but her.

2 They dressed up in maids’ array, And passd for sisters fair; With ae consent gaed ower the sea, For to seek after lear.

3 They baith did eat at ae braid board, In ae bed baith did lye; When Lord Lundie got word o that, He’s taen her soon away.

4 When Lord Lundie got word of that, An angry man was he; He wrote his daughter on great haste To return right speedilie.

5 When she looked the letter upon, A light laugh then gae she; But ere she read it till an end The tear blinded her ee.

6 ‘Bad news, bad news, my love Willie, Bad news is come to me; My father’s written a braid letter, Bids me gae speedilie.

7 ‘Set trysts, set trysts, my love Willie, Set trysts, I pray, wi me; Set trysts, set trysts, my love Willie, When will our wedding be.’

8 ‘On Wednesday, on Wednesday, The first that ever ye see; On Wednesday at twelve o’clock, My dear, I’ll meet wi thee.’

9 When she came to her father’s ha, He hailed her courteouslie; Says, I’ll forgie offences past, If now ye’ll answer me.

10 ‘Will ye marry yon young prince, Queen of England to be? Or will you marry Lord William’s son, Be loved by nane but he?’

11 ‘I will marry yon young prince, Father, if it be your will; But I woud rather I were dead and gane, My grave I woud win till.’

12 When she was in her saddle set, She skyred like the fire, To go her bridegroom for to meet, For whom she’d nae desire.

13 On every tippet o her horse mane There hang a siller bell, And whether the wind blew east or west They gae a sundry knell.

14 And when she came to Mary’s kirk She skyred like the fire; There her young bridegroom she did meet, For whom she’d nae desire.

15 She looked ower her left shoulder, The tear blinded her ee; But looking ower her right shoulder, A blythe sight then saw she.

16 There she saw Lord William’s son, And mony a man him wi, Wi targes braid and glittering spears All marching ower the lee.

17 The minister looked on a book Her marriage to begin: ‘If there is naething to be said, These two may join in ane.’

18 ‘O huly, huly, sir,’ she said, ‘O stay a little wee; I hae a friend to welcome yet That’s been a dear friend to me.’

19 O then the parson he spake out, A wise word then spake he; ‘You might hae had your friends welcomd Before ye’d come to me.’

20 Then in it came the bride’s first love, And mony a man him wi: ‘Stand back, stand back, ye jelly bridegroom, Bride, ye maun join wi me.’

21 Then out it speaks him Lord Lundie, An angry man was he; ‘Lord William’s son will hae my daughter Without leave askd of me.

22 ‘But since it’s sae that she will gang, And proved sae fause to thee, I’ll make a vow, and keep it true, Nae portion shall I gie.’

23 Then out it speaks the bride’s first love, And [a] light laugh then gae he; ‘I’ve got the best portion now, my lord, That ye can gie to me.

24 ‘Your gude red gold I value not, Nor yet your white monie; I hae her by the hand this day That’s far dearer to me.

25 ‘So gie the prince a coffer o gold When he gaes to his bed, And bid him clap his coffer o gold, And I’ll clap my bonny bride.’

* * * * *

C

Buchan’s MSS, II, 126.

1 Lord William has gane oer the sea For to seek after lear; Lord Lundie had but ae daughter, And he’d wed nane but her.

2 Upon a book they both did read, And in ae bed did ly: ‘But if my father get word of this, I’ll soon be taen away.’

3 ‘Your father’s gotten word of this, Soon married then ye’ll be; Set trysts, set trysts wi me, Janet, Set trysts, set trysts wi me.

4 ‘Set trysts, set trysts wi me, Janet, When your wedding-day’s to be; ‘On Saturday, the first that comes, Must be my wedding-day.’

5 ‘Bad news, bad news is come, Janet, Bad news is come to me; Your father’s gotten word of this, Soon married then ye’ll be.’

6 ‘O will ye marry the young prince, daughter, The queen of England to be? Or will ye marry Lord William, And die immediately?’

7 ‘O I will marry the young prince, father, Because it is your will; But I wish it was my burial-day, For my grave I could gang till.’

8 When they gaed in into the kirk, And ae seat they sat in, The minister took up the book, The marriage to begin.

9 ‘Lay down the book, O dear, kind sir, And wait a little wee; I have a lady to welcome yet, She’s been a good friend to me.’

10 Out then spake the minister, An angry man was he; ‘You might have had your ladies welcomd Before ye came to me.’

11 She looked oer her left shoulder, And tears did blind her ee; But she looked oer her right shoulder, And a blythe sight saw she, For in there came him Lord William, And his valiant company.

12 And in there came him Lord William, His armour shining clear, And in it came him Lord William, And many glittering spear.

13 ‘Stand by, stand by, ye bonny bridegroom, Stand by, stand by,’ said he; ‘Stand by, stand by, ye bonny bridegroom, Bride, ye maun join wi me.

14 ‘Let the young prince clap his coffer of gold When he gangs to his bed; Let the young prince clap his coffer of gold, But I’ll clap my bonny bride.’

15 Out it spake him Lord Lundie, And an angry man was he; ‘My daughter will marry him Lord William, It seems, in spite of me.’

* * * * *

#A, C.#

_Motherwell and Dixon have made a few slight changes._

255

WILLIE’S FATAL VISIT

Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 259.

A maid, Meggie, inquires after her lover, Willie, and is told that he will be with her at night. Willie tirls the pin and is admitted. He is given the option of cards, wine, or bed, and chooses the bed, a too familiar commonplace in Buchan’s ballads. Meggie charges the cock not to crow till day, but the cock crows an hour too soon. Willie dons his clothes, and in a dowie den encounters a grievous ghost, which, wan and weary though it be, smiles upon him; smiles, we may suppose, to have caught him. Willie has travelled this road often, and never uttered a prayer for safety; but he will never travel that road again. The ghost tears him to pieces, and hangs a bit ‘on every seat’ of Mary’s kirk, the head right over Meggie’s pew! Meggie rives her yellow hair.

The first half of this piece is a medley of ‘Sweet William’s Ghost,’ ‘Clerk Saunders,’ and ‘The Grey Cock.’ For 1^{3–6}, 2, compare No 77, #A#, #E#, 2, 3, No 248, 1; for 5–8, No 69, #F# 3–6, No 70, #B# 2, 4; for 9, 10, No 248, 6, 7. 13 is caught, or taken, from ‘Clyde’s Water,’ No 216, #A# 7.

Stanzas 15–17, wherever they came from, are too good for the setting: nothing so spirited, word or deed, could have been looked for from a ghost wan, weary, and smiling.

* * * * *

1 ’Twas on an evening fair I went to take the air, I heard a maid making her moan; Said, Saw ye my father? Or saw ye my mother? Or saw ye my brother John? Or saw ye the lad that I love best, And his name it is Sweet William?

2 ‘I saw not your father, I saw not your mother, Nor saw I your brother John; But I saw the lad that ye love best, And his name it is Sweet William.’

3 ‘O was my love riding? or was he running? Or was he walking alone? Or says he that he will be here this night? O dear, but he tarries long!’

4 ‘Your love was not riding, nor yet was he running, But fast was he walking alone; He says that he will be here this night to thee, And forbids you to think long.’

5 Then Willie he has gane to his love’s door, And gently tirled the pin: ‘O sleep ye, wake ye, my bonny Meggie, Ye’ll rise, lat your true love in.’

6 The lassie being swack ran to the door fu snack, And gently she lifted the pin, Then into her arms sae large and sae lang She embraced her bonny love in.

7 ‘O will ye gang to the cards or the dice, Or to a table o wine? Or will ye gang to a well-made bed, Well coverd wi blankets fine?’

8 ‘O I winna gang to the cards nor the dice. Nor yet to a table o wine; But I’ll rather gang to a well-made bed, Well coverd wi blankets fine.’

9 ‘My braw little cock, sits on the house tap, Ye’ll craw not till it be day, And your kame shall be o the gude red gowd, And your wings o the siller grey.’

10 The cock being fause untrue he was, And he crew an hour ower seen; They thought it was the gude day-light, But it was but the light o the meen.

11 ‘Ohon, alas!’ says bonny Meggie then, ‘This night we hae sleeped ower lang!’ ‘O what is the matter?’ then Willie replied, ‘The faster then I must gang.’

12 Then Sweet Willie raise, and put on his claise, And drew till him stockings and sheen, And took by his side his berry-brown sword, And ower yon lang hill he’s gane.

13 As he gaed ower yon high, high hill, And down yon dowie den, Great and grievous was the ghost he saw, Would fear ten thousand men.

14 As he gaed in by Mary kirk, And in by Mary stile, Wan and weary was the ghost Upon sweet Willie did smile.

15 ‘Aft hae ye travelld this road, Willie, Aft hae ye travelld in sin; Ye neer said sae muckle for your saul As My Maker bring me hame!

16 ‘Aft hae ye travelld this road, Willie, Your bonny love to see; But ye’ll never travel this road again Till ye leave a token wi me.’

17 Then she has taen him Sweet Willie, Riven him frae gair to gair, And on ilka seat o Mary’s kirk O Willie she hang a share; Even abeen his love Meggie’s dice, Hang’s head and yellow hair.

18 His father made moan, his mother made moan, But Meggie made muckle mair; His father made moan, his mother made moan, But Meggie reave her yellow hair.

256

ALISON AND WILLIE

#A.# ‘My luve she lives in Lincolnshire,’ Harris MS., fol. 18 b; Mrs Harris. #b.# ‘Alison’ Buchan’s MSS., I, 231.

Alison gaily invites Willie to her wedding; he will not come unless to be the bridegroom, with her for bride. That day you will never see, says Alison; once on your horse, you will have no more mind of me than if I were dead. Willie rides slowly away, and his heart breaks with the pains of love; he dies by the way, and is left to the birds. A letter stops the wedding, and breaks Alison’s heart.

Stanza 7 must be left to those who can interpret Thomas of Erceldoune’s prophecies.

* * * * *

1 ‘My luve she lives in Lincolnshire, I wat she’s neither black nor broun, But her hair is like the thread o gowd, Aye an it waur weel kaimëd doun.’

2 She’s pued the black mask owre her face, An blinkit gaily wi her ee: ‘O will you to my weddin come, An will you bear me gude companie?’

3 ‘I winna to your weddin come, Nor [will] I bear you gude companie, Unless you be the bride yoursell, An me the bridegroom to be.’

4 ‘For me to be the bride mysel, An you the bonnie bridegroom to be— Cheer up your heart, Sweet Willie,’ she said, ‘For that’s the day you’ll never see.

5 ‘Gin you waur on your saiddle set, An gaily ridin on the way, You’ll hae nae mair mind o Alison Than she waur dead an laid in clay.’

6 When he was on his saiddle set, An slowly ridin on the way, He had mair mind o Alison Than he had o the licht o day.

7 He saw a hart draw near a hare, An aye that hare drew near a toun, An that same hart did get a hare, But the gentle knicht got neer a toun.

8 He leant him owre his saiddle-bow, An his heart did brak in pieces three; Wi sighen said him Sweet Willie, ‘The pains o luve hae taen hald o me.’

9 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . There cam a white horse an a letter, That stopped the weddin speidilie.

10 She leant her back on her bed-side, An her heart did brak in pieces three; She was buried an bemoaned, But the birds waur Willie’s companie.

* * * * *

#a.#

2^3. Oh. 10^3. He was.

#b.#

But _wanting:_ threads.

2^1. She pu’d: mask aff.

2^2. blinked blythely.

2^3. Says, Will ye.

2^4. Or: gude _wanting_.

3^2. Nor will; gude wanting.

3^4. the bonny bridegroom be.

4^2. to _wanting_.

4^3. Sweet _wanting_.

5^2. And merry.

5^3. Ye’ll mind nae mair o.

5^4. When.

6^2. An weary.

7^1. He spied: draw till.

7^2. aye the.

7^3. An _wanting_.

8^1. leand his back to his.

8^3. said that sweet.

8^4. luve’s taen.

9^{1,2}. Their wedding-day it was well set, And a’ their friends invited there.

9^3. While came.

9^4. wedding in prepare.

_Before 10^1_: She said, If Willie he be dead, A wedded wife I’ll never be.

10^1. Then leand her back to her bed-stock.

10^2. Her heart in pieces broke in three.

10^3. then was.

257

BURD ISABEL AND EARL PATRICK

#A.# ‘Burd Bell,’ Kinloch MSS, I, 211.

#B.# ‘Burd Isbel and Sir Patrick,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 76.

#C.# ‘Earl Patrick and Burd Isabel,’ Motherwell’s MS., p. 440.

Christie, Traditional Ballad Airs, II, 34, I, 42, says that an old woman in Buckie, Enzie, Banff, who died in 1866 at the age of nearly eighty, and whose father was a noted ballad-singer, sang him words which, so far as he could remember, were like those of #B#.

#A.# Unmarried Burd Isabel bears a son to Earl Patrick. He has passed his word to make her his wife in case the expected bairn should be a boy, but his mother objects. He now promises to bring her home after the demise of his parents, and in the mean while builds her a gold and silver bower (which for a reason inscrutable is ‘strawn round wi sand’). Father and mother die; Patrick takes no step to fulfil his engagement, and Isabel asks why. Patrick wishes that a hundred evils may enter him, and he ‘fa oure the brim,’ if ever he marries another; nevertheless he weds a duke’s daughter. His bride has a fancy to see his son, and Patrick sends his aunt (or his grand-aunt, or his great-grand-aunt) to fetch the boy. Isabel dares any woman to take the bairn away. Patrick comes in person. Isabel repeats the words she had used to his aunt, and reminds him of the curse which he had conditionally wished himself at their last interview. The perjured man turns to go away, the hundred evils enter him, and he falls ‘oure the brim.’