Part 55

3 He called on his servants all, By one, by two, by three: ‘Go hunt, go hunt that wild woman, Go hunt her far from me!’

4 They hunted her high, they hunted her low, They hunted her over the plain, And the red scarlet robes Lady Margaret had on Would never be mended again.

5 They hunted her high, they hunted her low, They hunted her over the plain, Till at last she spy’d a tall young man, As he was riding alane.

6 ‘Some relief, some relief, thou tall young man! Some relief I pray thee grant me! For I am a lady deep wronged in love, And chased from my own countrie.’

7 ‘No relief, no relief, thou lady fair, No relief will I grant unto thee Till once thou renounce all the men in the world My wedded wife for to be.’

8 Then he set her on a milk-white steed, Himself upon a gray, And he has drawn his hat over his face, And chearfully they rode away.

9 Lady Margaret was at her bower-window, Sewing her silken seam, And there she spy’d, like a wandering bodie, Lord Thomas begging alane.

10 ‘Some relief, some relief, thou lady fair! Some relief, I pray thee grant me! For I am a puir auld doited carle, And banishd from my ain countrie.’

11 ‘No relief, no relief, thou perjured man, No relief will I grant unto thee; For oh, if I had thee within my bower, There hanged dead thou would be.’

12 ‘No such thing, Lady Margaret,’ he said, ‘Such a thing would never be; For with my broadsword I would kill thy wedded lord, And carry thee far off with me.’

13 ‘Oh no, no! Lord Thomas,’ she said, ‘Oh, no such things must be; For I have wine in my cellars, And you must drink with me.’

14 Lady Margaret then called her servants all, By one, by two, by three: ‘Go fetch me the bottles of blude-red wine, That Lord Thomas may drink with me.’

15 They brought her the bottles of blude-red wine, By one, by two, by three, And with her fingers long and small She poisond them all three.

16 She took the cup in her lilly-white hand, Betwixt her finger and her thumb, She put it to her red rosy lips, But never a drop went down.

17 Then he took the cup in his manly hand, Betwixt his finger and his thumb, He put it to his red rosy lips, And so merrily it ran down.

18 ‘Oh, I am wearied drinking with thee, Margaret! I am wearied drinking with thee!’ ‘And so was I,’ Lady Margaret said, ‘When thou hunted thy hounds after me.’

19 ‘But I will bury thee, Lord Thomas,’ she said, ‘Just as if thou wert one of my own; And when that my good lord comes home I will say thou’s my sister’s son.’

* * * * *

B

Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 43.

1 Clerk Tamas lovd her fair Annie As well as Mary lovd her son; But now he hates her fair Annie, And hates the lands that she lives in.

2 ‘Ohon, alas!’ said fair Annie, ‘Alas! this day I fear I’ll die; But I will on to sweet Tamas, And see gin he will pity me.’

3 As Tamas lay ower his shott-window, Just as the sun was gaen down, There he beheld her fair Annie, As she came walking to the town.

4 ‘O where are a’ my well-wight men, I wat, that I pay meat and fee, For to lat a’ my hounds gang loose To hunt this vile whore to the sea.’

5 The hounds they knew the lady well, And nane o them they woud her bite, Save ane that is ca’d Gaudywhere, I wat he did the lady smite.

6 ‘O wae mat worth ye, Gaudywhere! An ill reward this is to me; For ae bit that I gae the lave, I’m very sure I’ve gien you three.

7 ‘For me, alas! there’s nae remeid, Here comes the day that I maun die; I ken ye lovd your master well, And sae, alas for me! did I.’

8 A captain lay ower his ship-window, Just as the sun was gaen down; There he beheld her fair Annie, As she was hunted frae the town.

9 ‘Gin ye’ll forsake father and mither, And sae will ye your friends and kin, Gin ye’ll forsake your lands sae broad, Then come and I will take you in.’

10 ‘Yes, I’ll forsake baith father and mither, And sae will I my friends and kin; Yes, I’ll forsake my lands sae broad, And come, gin ye will take me in.’

11 Then a’ thing gaed frae fause Tamas, And there was naething byde him wi; Then he thought lang for Arrandella, It was fair Annie for to see.

12 ‘How do ye now, ye sweet Tamas? And how gaes a’ in your countrie?’ ‘I’ll do better to you than ever I’ve done, Fair Annie, gin ye’ll come an see.’

13 ‘O Guid forbid,’ said fair Annie, ‘That e’er the like fa in my hand! Woud I forsake my ain gude lord And follow you, a gae-through-land?

14 ‘Yet nevertheless now, sweet Tamas, Ye’ll drink a cup o wine wi me, And nine times in the live lang day Your fair claithing shall changed be.’

15 Fair Annie pat it till her cheek, Sae did she till her milk-white chin, Sae did she till her flattering lips, But never a drap o wine gaed in.

16 Tamas pat it till his cheek, Sae did he till his dimpled chin; He pat it till his rosy lips, And then the well o wine gaed in.

17 ‘These pains,’ said he, ‘are ill to bide; Here is the day that I maun die; O take this cup frae me, Annie, For o the same I am weary.’

18 ‘And sae was I o you, Tamas, When I was hunted to the sea; But I’se gar bury you in state, Which is mair than ye’d done to me.’

* * * * *

#A. a.#

12^1. (no such thing) _a second time_; _inserted apparently by Motherwell_.

_Interlineations_: 2^2. what he might spy. 2^4. riding by.

8^3. his broadsword from his side.

8^4. And slowly.

9^2. To see what she might spy.

9^3. spy’d Lord Thomas.

9^4. A begging along the highway.

10^3. puir oppressed man.

15^1. They glowred, but they brought the blude-red wine.

#b.#

1^1. is a.

1^2. the green wood oer.

1^3. Lady Margaret has followed him.

1^4. To seek her own true-love.

2. _Wanting._

3^1. He has called up his merrie men all.

3^3. Hunt away, hunt away this.

3^4. her away from.

4^1, 5^1. and they.

4^2, 5^2. Till she ran quite over.

4^3. The scarlet robes.

4^4. They can never.

5^3. And there she spied.

5^4. Just as.

6^2. Some relief, some relief grant me.

6^3. lady that is deep, deep in.

6^4. And I am banished from.

7^1. fair ladie.

7^2. No relief, no relief I’ll grant thee.

7^3. Unless you forsake: in this.

7^4. And my: you will be.

8^1. He has mounted her.

8^2. And himself on a dapple.

8^3. The buglet horn hung done by there side.

8^4. And so slowly as they both.

9^1. One day L. M. at her castle-window.

9^2. Was sewing.

9^3. espied L. T.

9^4. A begging all.

10^1. fair ladie.

10^2. Some relief, some relief grant me.

10^{3,4}, 11. No relief, no relief, Lord Thomas, she said, But hanged thou shalt be.

12^1. O no, O no, Lady.

12^2. For no such things must be.

12^3. But with: I will.

12^4. And I’ll ride far off with thee.

13^1. O no, O no.

13^2. O no: must not.

14^1. She has called up her.

14^2, 15^2. and by.

14^3. Go bring to me a bottle of wine.

15^1. her up a bottle of wine.

15^3. so long.

15^4. The rank poison in put she.

16, 17. _Wanting._

18^1. I’m wearied, I’m wearied, Lady Margaret, he said.

18^2. O I’m: talking to.

18^3. I, Lord Thomas, she.

18^4. you hounded your dogs.

19^1. bury you as one of my own.

19^2. And all in my own ground.

19^4. say you’re.

261

LADY ISABEL

‘Lady Isabel,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 129.

Lady Isabel’s step-mother accuses her of being her father’s leman; he gives her finer gowns than he gives his wife. Isabel replies that, in the first place, she is young, which is reason enough why her gowns should be fairer; but that, as a matter of fact, a lover of hers over seas sends her ten gowns to one that her father buys her. The step-mother invites Isabel to take wine with her. Isabel wishes first to go to a church. At this church she sees her own mother, and asks whether she shall flee the country or drink what has been prepared for her. Her mother enjoins her to drink the dowie drink; before she is cold she will be in a better place. Upon returning, Isabel is again pressed to take wine, and again begs to be excused for the moment; she wishes to see her maids in the garden. She gives her maids ring and brooch. A third time the step-mother proposes that they shall take wine together; the daughter, with due courtesy, begs the elder to begin. The step-mother goes through certain motions customary in ballads of this description, and swallows not a drop; Isabel duly repeats the mummery, but drinks. She has time to tell this wicked dame that their beds will be made very far apart. The step-mother goes mad.

Stanzas 20, 21, as has already been intimated, are a commonplace, and a foolish one. Stanza 24, in various forms, not always well adapted to the particular circumstances, ends several ballads: as No 64, #F#; No 65, #H#; No 66, #A# 28, 29, #B# 20, 21; No 67, #B#; No 70, #B#.

Translated by Gerhard, p. 161.

* * * * *

1 ‘T was early on a May morning Lady Isabel combd her hair; But little kent she, or the morn She woud never comb it mair.

2 ‘T was early on a May morning Lady Isabel rang the keys; But little kent she, or the morn A fey woman she was.

3 Ben it came her step-mother, As white ‘s the lily flower: ‘It’s tauld me this day, Isabel, You are your father’s whore.’

4 ‘O them that tauld you that, mother, I wish they neer drink wine; For if I be the same woman My ain sell drees the pine.

5 ‘And them that’s tauld you that, mother, I wish they neer drink ale; For if I be the same woman My ain sell drees the dail.’

6 ‘It may be very well seen, Isabel, It may be very well seen; He buys to you the damask gowns, To me the dowie green.’

7 ‘Ye are of age and I am young, And young amo my flowers; The fairer that my claithing be, The mair honour is yours.

8 ‘I hae a love beyond the sea, And far ayont the faem; For ilka gown my father buys me, My ain luve sends me ten.’

9 ‘Come ben, come ben now, Lady Isabel, And drink the wine wi me; I hae twa jewels in ae coffer, And ane o them I’ll gie [ye].’

10 ‘Stay still, stay still, my mother dear, Stay still a little while, Till I gang into Marykirk; It’s but a little mile.’

11 When she gaed on to Marykirk, And into Mary’s quire, There she saw her ain mother Sit in a gowden chair.

12 ‘O will I leave the lands, mother? Or shall I sail the sea? Or shall I drink this dowie drink That is prepar’d for me?’

13 ‘Ye winna leave the lands, daughter, Nor will ye sail the sea, But ye will drink this dowie drink This woman’s prepar’d for thee.

14 ‘Your bed is made in a better place Than ever hers will be, And ere ye’re cauld into the room Ye will be there wi me.’

15 ‘Come in, come in now, Lady Isabel, And drink the wine wi me; I hae twa jewels in ae coffer, And ane o them I’ll gie [ye].’

16 ‘Stay still, stay still, my mother dear, Stay still a little wee, Till I gang to yon garden green, My Maries a’ to see.’

17 To some she gae the broach, the broach, To some she gae a ring; But wae befa her step-mother! To her she gae nae thing.

18 ‘Come in, come in now, Lady Isabel, And drink the wine wi me; I hae twa jewels in ae coffer, And ane o them I’ll gie [ye].’

19 Slowly to the bower she came, And slowly enterd in, And being full o courtesie, Says, Begin, mother, begin.

20 She put it till her cheek, her cheek, Sae did she till her chin, Sae did she till her fu fause lips, But never a drap gaed in.

21 Lady Isabel put it till her cheek, Sae did she till her chin, Sae did she till her rosy lips, And the rank poison gaed in.

22 ‘O take this cup frae me, mother, O take this cup frae me; My bed is made in a better place Than ever yours will be.

23 ‘My bed is in the heavens high, Amang the angels fine; But yours is in the lowest hell, To drie torment and pine.’

24 Nae moan was made for Lady Isabel In bower where she lay dead, But a’ was for that ill woman, In the fields mad she gaed.

262

LORD LIVINGSTON

‘Lord Livingston,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 39.

As far as can be made out, Livingston and Seaton engage themselves to play against one another at some game, the victor expecting to stand the better in the eyes of a lady. They then proceed to Edinburgh castle, where a lady, whose ‘gowns seem like green,’ marshals the company in pairs, and chooses Livingston for her own partner. This preference enrages Seaton, who challenges Livingston to fight with him the next day. Up to this point the pairing may have been for a dance, or what not, but now we are told that Livingston and the fair dame are laid in the same bed, and further on that they were wedded that same night. In the morning Livingston arms himself for his fight; he declines to let his lady dress herself in man’s clothes and fight in his stead. On his way ‘to plain fields’ a witch warns him that she has had the dream which Sweet William dreams in No 74, and others elsewhere. Livingston is ‘slain,’ but for all that stands presently bleeding by his lady’s knee: see No 73, #B# 34, #D# 17. She begs him to hold out but half an hour, and every leech in Edinburgh shall come to him: see No 88, #A# 12, etc. He orders his lands to be dealt to the auld that may not, the young that cannot, etc.: see No 92, #A# 10, #B# 15. The lady declares that it was known from her birth that she was to marry a knight and lose him the next day. She will now do for his sake what other ladies would not be equal to (and which nevertheless many other ballad-ladies have undertaken, as in No 69 and elsewhere). When seven years are near an end her heart breaks.

This ballad, or something like it, was known at the end of the last century. The story has a faint resemblance to that of ‘Armstrong and Musgrave,’ a broadside printed in the last quarter of the seventeenth century: Crawford Ballads, No 123, Old Ballads, 1723, I, 175; Evans, Old Ballads, 1777, II, 70. Pinkerton acknowledges that he composed the ‘Lord Livingston’ of his Tragic Ballads, 1781, p. 69, but he says that he had “small lines from tradition.” (Ancient Scotish Poems, 1786, I, cxxxi.) Pinkerton’s ballad is the one which Buchan refers to, II, 308. It is translated by Grundtvig, Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, p. 139, No 21.

* * * * *

1 It fell about the Lammas time, When wightsmen won their hay, A’ the squires in merry Linkum Went a’ forth till a play.

2 They playd until the evening tide, The sun was gaeing down; A lady thro plain fields was bound, A lily leesome thing.

3 Two squires that for this lady pledged, In hopes for a renown, The one was calld the proud Seaton, The other Livingston.

4 ‘When will ye, Michaell o Livingston, Wad for this lady gay?’ ‘To-morrow, to-morrow,’ said Livingston, ‘To-morrow, if you may.’

5 Then they hae wadded their wagers, And laid their pledges down; To the high castle o Edinbro They made them ready boun.

6 The chamber that they did gang in, There it was daily dight; The kipples were like the gude red gowd, As they stood up in hight, And the roof-tree like the siller white, And shin’d like candles bright.

7 The lady fair into that ha Was comely to be seen; Her kirtle was made o the pa, Her gowns seemd o the green.

8 Her gowns seemd like green, like green, Her kirtle o the pa; A siller wand intill her hand, She marshalld ower them a’.

9 She gae every knight a lady bright, And every squire a may; Her own sell chose him Livingston, They were a comely tway.

10 Then Seaton started till his foot, The fierce flame in his ee: ‘On the next day, wi sword in hand, On plain fields meet ye me.’

11 When bells were rung, and mass was sung, And a’ man bound for bed, Lord Livingston and his fair dame In bed were sweetly laid.

12 The bed, the bed where they lay in Was coverd wi the pa; A covering o the gude red gowd Lay nightly ower the twa.

13 So they lay there, till on the morn The sun shone on their feet; Then up it raise him Livingston To draw to him a weed.

14 The first an weed that he drew on Was o the linen clear; The next an weed that he drew on, It was a weed o weir.

15 The niest an weed that he drew on Was gude iron and steel; Twa gloves o plate, a gowden helmet, Became that hind chiel weel.

16 Then out it speaks that lady gay— A little forbye stood she— ‘I’ll dress mysell in men’s array, Gae to the fields for thee.’

17 ‘O God forbid,’ said Livingston, ‘That eer I dree the shame; My lady slain in plain fields, And I coward knight at hame!’

18 He scarcely travelled frae the town A mile but barely twa Till he met wi a witch-woman, I pray to send her wae!

19 ‘This is too gude a day, my lord, To gang sae far frae town; This is too gude a day, my lord, On field to make you boun.

20 ‘I dreamd a dream concerning thee, O read ill dreams to guid! Your bower was full o milk-white swans, Your bride’s bed full o bluid.’

21 ‘O bluid is gude,’ said Livingston, ‘To bide it whoso may; If I be frae yon plain fields, Nane knew the plight I lay.’

22 Then he rade on to plain fields As swift’s his horse coud hie, And there he met the proud Seaton, Come boldly ower the lee.

23 ‘Come on to me now, Livingston, Or then take foot and flee; This is the day that we must try Who gains the victorie.’

24 Then they fought with sword in hand Till they were bluidy men; But on the point o Seaton’s sword Brave Livingston was slain.

25 His lady lay ower castle-wa, Beholding dale and down, When Blenchant brave, his gallant steed, Came prancing to the town.

26 ‘O where is now my ain gude lord He stays sae far frae me?’ ‘O dinna ye see your ain gude lord Stand bleeding by your knee?’

27 ‘O live, O live, Lord Livingston, The space o ae half hour, There’s nae a leech in Edinbro town But I’ll bring to your door.’

28 ‘Awa wi your leeches, lady,’ he said, ‘Of them I’ll be the waur; There’s nae a leech in Edinbro town That can strong death debar.

29 ‘Ye’ll take the lands o Livingston And deal them liberallie, To the auld that may not, the young that cannot, And blind that does na see, And help young maidens’ marriages, That has nae gear to gie.’

30 ‘My mother got it in a book, The first night I was born, I woud be wedded till a knight, And him slain on the morn.

31 ‘But I will do for my love’s sake What ladies woudna thole; Ere seven years shall hae an end, Nae shoe’s gang on my sole.

32 ‘There’s never lint gang on my head, Nor kame gang in my hair, Nor ever coal nor candle-light Shine in my bower mair.’

33 When seven years were near an end, The lady she thought lang, And wi a crack her heart did brake, And sae this ends my sang.

263

THE NEW-SLAIN KNIGHT

‘The New-Slain Knight,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 197.

A knight (who twaddles in the first person at the beginning) finds a maid sleeping under a hedge, wakes her, and tells her that he has seen a dead man in her father’s garden. She asks about the dead man’s hawk, hound, sword. His hawk and hound were gone, his horse was tied to a tree, a bloody sword lay under his head. She asks about his clothes, and receives a description, with the addition that his hair was bonny and new combed. ‘I combed it late yesterday!’ says the lady. ‘Who now will shoe my foot, and glove my hand, and father my bairn?’ The knight offers himself for all these, but the lady will commit herself only to Heaven. The knight, after knacking his fingers quite superfluously, unmasks; he has only been making a trial of her truth.

A large part of this piece is imitated or taken outright from very well known ballads (as has already been pointed out by the editor of the Ballad Minstrelsy of Scotland, 1871, p. 345): 5–8 from ‘Young Johnstone,’ No 88; 10, 11 from ‘The Lass of Roch Royal,’ No 76 (see particularly #E# 1–4, and compare No 66, #A# 24, etc.); for 13^{1,2} see No 91, #B# 5^1, 6^1, 7^1, #D# 7^{1,2}, No 257, #A# 7.

Grundtvig notes that this piece is of the same description as the Danish ‘Troskabspröven,’ Danmarks gamle Folkeviser, IV, 553, No 252, one version of which is translated by Prior, III, 289, No 146. Naturally, the fidelity of maid or wife is celebrated in the ballads of every tongue and people. This particular ballad, so far as it is original, is of very ordinary quality. The ninth stanza is pretty, but not quite artless.

Translated by Grundtvig, Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, p. 294, No 46.

* * * * *

1 My heart is lighter than the poll; My folly made me glad, As on my rambles I went out, Near by a garden-side.

2 I walked on, and farther on, Love did my heart engage; There I spied a well-faird maid, Lay sleeping near a hedge.

3 Then I kissd her with my lips And stroked her with my hand: ‘Win up, win up, ye well-faird maid, This day ye sleep oer lang.

4 ‘This dreary sight that I hae seen Unto my heart gives pain; At the south side o your father’s garden, I see a knight lies slain.’

5 ‘O what like was his hawk, his hawk? Or what like was his hound? And what like was the trusty brand This new-slain knight had on?’

6 ‘His hawk and hound were from him gone, His steed tied to a tree; A bloody brand beneath his head, And on the ground lies he.’

7 ‘O what like was his hose, his hose? And what like were his shoon? And what like was the gay clothing This new-slain knight had on?’

8 ‘His coat was of the red scarlet, His waistcoat of the same; His hose were of the bonny black, And shoon laced with cordin.

9 ‘Bonny was his yellow hair, For it was new combd down;’ Then, sighing sair, said the lady fair, ‘I combd it late yestreen.

10 ‘O wha will shoe my fu fair foot? Or wha will glove my hand? Or wha will father my dear bairn, Since my love’s dead and gane?’

11 ‘O I will shoe your fu fair foot, And I will glove your hand; And I’ll be father to your bairn, Since your love’s dead and gane.’

12 ‘I winna father my bairn,’ she said, ‘Upon an unkent man; I’ll father it on the King of Heaven, Since my love’s dead and gane.’

13 The knight he knackd his white fingers, The lady tore her hair; He’s drawn the mask from off his face, Says, Lady, mourn nae mair.

14 ‘For ye are mine, and I am thine, I see your love is true; And if I live and brook my life Ye’se never hae cause to rue.’

* * * * *

10^1, 11^1. fair fu.

264

THE WHITE FISHER

‘The White Fisher,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 200.