Part 66

12 ‘Petter,’ quoeth he, ‘I must saill the sea, Toe looke an enemye, God be my speede! As thowe arte ould, I have chossen the Of a hundreth gunners to be the headde.’

13 He said, If your Honor have chossen me Of a hundreth gunners to be the headd, On your mayn-mast-tre let me be hangd, If I miss thre mille a pennye breed.

14 Then next of all my lord up cald, A noble boweman he was ane; In Yorkeshier was this gentleman borne, And William Horsley height his name.

15 ‘Horsley,’ saide he, ‘I must saill the sea, To meete an enemee, thow must knowe; I have oft [been] told of thy artillorye, But of thy shootinge I never sawe.

16 ‘Yet fore thye drawght that thowe dost drawe, Of a hundreth bowemen to be the heade;’ Said Horsley then, Let me be hang[d]e, If I mis twelve score a twelt penc[e] breed.

17 Yea, pickmen more, and bowmen both, This worthë Howward tooke to the sea; On the morowe after midsomer moneth Out of Temes mouth saillëd he.

18 Hee had not sailled one daie but three, After his Honor tooke to the sea, When he mette with one Harrie Huntte, In Newcastell ther dwelte hee.

19 When he sawe the lion of England out blaisse, The streemers and the roose about his eye, Full soonne he let his toppe-saill fall; That was a tooken of curtissie.

20 My lord he cald of Henry Huntte, Bad Harry Hunt both stay and stande; Saies, Tell me where thy dwellinge is, And whome unto thye shippe belonnges.

21 Henrye Hunt he answered, sore he sight, With a woefull hart and a sorrowefull minde, ‘I and this shippe doth both belonge Unto the Newe Castell that stands upon Tyne.’

22 ‘But haist thowe harde,’ said my lord Charles Hawward, ‘Wher thowe haist travelled, by daie or by night, Of a robber that lies abroode on the sea, They call him Sir Andrewe Barton, knight?’

23 ‘Yes,’ Harye answered, sore he sight, With a woefull hart thus did he saye; ‘Mary, overwell I knowe that wight, I was his pressoner yesterdaie.

24 ‘Toe frome home, my lord, that I was boune, A Burgess voyage was boune so faire, Sir Andrewe Barton met with me, And robd me of mye merchantes-waire.

25 ‘And I ame a man in mickle debte, And everye one craves his owne of mee; And I am boune to London, my lorde, Fore toe comepleanne to good King Henrye.’

26 ‘But even I pray the,’ saies Lord Charlles Howeerd, ‘Henrye, let me that robber see, Where that Scoott hath teyne from the a grootte, I’le paye the back a shillinge,’ said hee.

27 ‘Nay, God forbid! yea, noble lord, I heare your Honor speake amisse; Christ keepe yowe out of his companye! Ye wott not what kine a man he is.

28 ‘He is brase within and steelle without, He beares beames in his topcastle hye, He hath threscore peece on ether side, Besides, my lorde, well mande is he.

29 ‘He hath a pennis is dearelye deighte, She is dearelye deighte and of mickell pried; His pennis hath ninescorre men and more, And thirtene peece on ethere side.

30 ‘Were yowe twentie shippes, my lorde, As your Honor is but one, Ethere bye lerbord or by lowe That Scootte would overcome yowe, everye one.’

31 ‘Marye, that’s ill hartinge,’ saies my lord Charlls Howeward, ‘Harye, to welcome a stranger to the sea; I’le ether bringe thatt Scootte and his shippe toe England, Or into Scootteland hee [’s] carrye me.’

32 ‘Well, since the matter is soe flatte, Take heed, I’le tell yowe this before; If yowe Sir Andrewe chance toe borde, Let noe man toe his topcastle goe.

33 ‘Excepte yowe have a gunner goode That can well marke with his eye; First seeke to gette his pennis sunk, The soonner overcome his selfe may bee.

34 ‘Yesterdaie I was Sir Andrewe’s pressonner, And ther he tooke me sworne,’ saide hee; ‘Before I’le leave off my serving God, My wild-maide oeth may brooken be.

35 ‘Will yowe lend me sexe peece of ordenance, my lord, To carye into my shippe with mee? Toe morrowe by seven a clocke, and souner, In the morne yowe shall Sir Andrewe see.

36 ‘Fore I will set yowe a glasse, my lord, That yowe shall saille forth all this night; Toe morrowe be seven a clocke, and souner, Yow’s se Sir Andrewe Barton, knight.’

37 Nowe will we leave talkinge of Harry Hunt; The worthye Howwarde tooke to the sea; By the morne, by seven a clocke, and souner, My lord hee did Sir Andrewe see.

38 A larborde, wher Sir Andrewe laye, They saide he tould his gold in the light; ‘Nowe, by my faith,’ saide my lord Charlles Howwarde, ‘I se yonne Scootte, a worthë wight!

39 ‘All our greatt ordienance wee’ll take in; Fetch downe my streemers,’ then saide hee, ‘And hange me forth a white willowe-wande, As a marchante-man that sailles by the sea.’

40 By Sir Andrewe then mye lord he past, And noe topsaille let fall would hee: ‘What meanes yonne English dogg?’ he saies, ‘Dogs doe knowe noe curtissie.

41 ‘For I have staid heare in this place Admirall more then yearës three; Yet was not ther Englisheman or Portingaill Could passe by me with his liffe,’ saide he.

42 ‘Once I met with the Portingaills, Yea, I met with them, ye, I indeed; I salted thirtie of ther heades, And sent them home to eate with breade.

43 ‘Nowe by me is yoen pedler past; It greves me at the hart,’ said hee; ‘Fetch me yoen English dogs,’ he saide, ‘I’le hange them al on my mayn-mast-tree.’

44 Then his pennis shotte of a peec[e] of ordenance; The shootte my lord might verye well ken, Fore he shootte downe his missonne-mast, And kild fifteen of my lordë’s men.

45 ‘Come hether, Peter Simond,’ said my lord Charles Howward, ‘Letes se thi word standis in steede; On my mayn-mast-tre thowe must be hunge, If thowe misse three mill a penney breed.’

46 Petter was ould, his hart was bould; He tooke a peece frome hie and laid hir beloue; He put in a chean of yeard[ë]s nine, Besides all other greate shoote and smalle.

47 And as he maide that gune to goe, And verye well he marke[d] with his eie, The first sight that Sir Andrewe sawe, He sawe his penis sunke in the sea.

48 When Sir Andrewe sawe his pennis sunke, That man in his hart was no thinge well: ‘Cut me my cabells! let me be lousse! I’le fetch yoen English dogges me selne.’

49 When my lord sawe Sir Andrewe from his anker loouse, Nay, Lord! a mighty man was hee: ‘Let my drumes strike up and my trumpetes sound, And blaise my banners vailliantlie.’

50 Peter Simon’s sonne shoote of a gune; That Sir Andrewe might very well ken; Fore he shoott throughe his over-decke, And kild fifttie of Sir Andrewe’s men.

51 ‘Ever alack!’ said Sir Andrewe Barton, ‘I like not of this geare,’ saide hee; ‘I doubt this is some English lorde That’s comed to taik me on the sea.’

52 Harrye Hunt came in on the other side; The shoote Sir Andrewe might very well ken; Fore he shoote downe his misson-mast, And kild other fortye of his men.

53 ‘Ever alacke!’ said Sir Andrewe Barton, ‘What maye a trewe man thinke or saye? He is becomed my greatest enymye That was my pressonner yesterdaie.

54 ‘Yet feare no English dogges,’ said Sir Andrew Barton, ‘Nor fore ther forse stand ye [in] no awe; My hands shall hange them all my selfe, Froe once I let my beames downe fawe.

55 ‘Come hether quick, thou Girdon goode, And come thou hether at my call, Fore heare I may noe longer staye; Goe up and let my beames down fall.’

56 Then he swarmd up the maine-mast-tree, With mickell might and all his maine; Then Horsley with a broode-headed arrowe Stroke then Girdon throughe the weame.

57 And he fell backe to the hatches againe, And in that wound full sore did bleed; The blood that ran soe fast from hime, They said it was the Girdon’s deed.

58 ‘Come hether, thow James Hamelton, Thowe my sister’s sonne, I have noe moe; I’le give the five hundreth pound,’ he saide, ‘Ife thowe wilt toe the top[ca]saille goe.’

59 Then he swarmd up the mayn-mast-tree. With mickell might and all his mayne; Then Horsley with a broode-arrowe-head Tooke hime in at the buttuke of the utuer beame.

60 Yet frome the tre he would not parte, But up in haist he did prossed; Then Horsley with anotheir arrowe Strooke then Hamelton throughe the heade.

61 When Sir Andrewe sawe his sister’s sonne slayne, That man in his heart was nothinge well: ‘Fight, maisters!’ said Sir Andrewe Barton, ‘It’s time I’le to the top myselne.’

62 Then he put on the armere of prooffe, And it was guilt with gold full cleare: ‘My brother John of Barton,’ he saide, ‘Full longe against Portingaill he it weare.’

63 When he had on that armore of prooffe, Yea, on his bodye he had that on, Marry, they that sawe Sir Andrewe Barton Said arrowes nor guns he feared none.

64 Yet Horsley drewe a broode-headed arrowe, With mickell might and all his mayne; That shaft against Sir Andrewe’s brest Came back to my lord Howwarde’s shippe agayne.

65 When my lord he sawe that arrowe comme, My lord he was a woefull wight; ‘Marke well thine ame, Horsley,’ he saide, ‘Fore that same shoote I’le make the knight.’

66 ‘Ever alacke!’ said Horsley then, ’ For howe soe ever this geare doth goe, If I for my service louse my heade, I have in this shippe but arrowe[s] towe.’

67 Yet he mar[k]t hime with the one of them, In a previe place and a secrete pert; He shoote hime in at the left oxtere, The arrowe quiett throughe [the] harte.

68 ‘Feight, maisters!’ said Sir Andrewe Barton, ‘I’se a lettle hurt, but I ame not slayne; I’le lie me downe and bleede a whill, I’le risse and feight with yowe agayne.

69 ‘Yet feare noe English dogges,’ said Sir Andrewe Barton, ‘Nore fore there force stand ye [in] noe awe; Stick stifeley to Sir Andrewe Barton, Feight till ye heare my whisstill blowe.’

70 The could noe skill of the whisstill heare; Quoeth Hary Hunt, I der lay my heade, My lord, yowe maye take the shippe when yowe will, I se Sir Andrewe Barton [’s] deade.

71 And then they borded that noble shippe, On both the sides, with all ther men; Ther was eighten [score] Scootes a live, Besides all other was hurte and slayne.

72 Then up my lord tooke Sir Andrewe Barton, And of he cutt the dead man’s head: ‘I would forsweare England for twenty years, Toe have the quicke as thowe art deade.

73 But of he cut the dead man’s heade, And bounde his bodye toe borden tre, And tiede five hundreth angels about his midle, That was toe cause hime buried toe bee.

74 Then they sailled toe Ingland agayne, With mickle merienes, as I weane; They entred Englishe land agayn On the night before S^{te} Maudlen even.

75 Toe mete my lord came the kinge an quen, And many nobles of hie degree; They came fore noe kind of thinge But Sir Andrewe Barton they would see.

76 Quoth my lord, Yowe may thanke Allmighty God, And foure men in the shippe with mee, That ever we scaipt Sir Andrewe [’s] hands; England had never such an enniemie.

77 ‘That’s Henrye Hunt and Petter Symon, William Horsley and Petter Symon [’s] sonne; Reward all thoesse fore there paynes, They did good service att that time.’

78 ‘Henry Hunt shall have his whistle and chean, A noble a daie I’le give him,’ quoeth hee, ‘And his coustome betwexte Trent tid and Tyne, Soe longe as he doth use the sea.

79 ‘Petter Symon shall have a crowne a daie, Halfe a crowne I’le give his sonne; That was fore a shoott he sente Sir Andrew Barton with his gune.

80 ‘Horsley, right I’le make the a knight, In Yorkshiere shall thy dwellinge be; My lord Charlles Howwarde shall be an earle, And soe was never Howward before,’ quoth he.

81 ‘Everye Englishe man shall have eightten pens a daie That did mainetayne [t]his feight soe free, And everye Scotchman a shillinge a daie Till they come atte my brother Jamie.’

_In eight-line stanzas._

1^4. chelvellrye. chevachie? _or some sort of_ vallie?

3^1. Yea.

4^2. farre.

10^3. and blause.

10^4. give the the.

14^4. height: was _interlined_.

16^2. thou’s be?

19^2. sterne. _For_ streemers, _see_ 39^2, _and_ B 33^2.

23^3. weight.

28^3. threscoree.

29^4. sidde.

30^1. Were yare. _Perhaps_ thare.

30^3. by lowe. _Cf._ #A# 29^2:==hull?

32^3. you and.

38^4, 65^2. weight.

44^4. xv^{th}.

45^2. the word.

46^3. ninee.

47^3. sawee.

52^1. sidde.

54^2. yea no.

55^1. hether, drinke.

58^2. noe more.

58^4, 66^2. goee.

59^3. _Probably_ broode-headed arrowe, _as in_ 56^3, 64^1.

59^4. utuer==outer? bane? _But I do not understand._

62^4. Portingaill they weare: _cf._ #A# 59^4.

72^3. xx^{th}.

73^3. 5: angles.

75^1. Toe might.

78^2. An noble.

79^4. gunee.

81^4. Jamie, Jamiee.

168. Flodden Field.

P, 351 b, 12. See an account of the exhumation of a corpse wrapped in a hide without a covering of lead, in Archæologia, I, 34. (G. L. K.)

169. Johnie Armstrong.

P. 367, note †. A new-born child thrown into the water by its mother tells her that she has lost Paradise: ‘L’Enfant noyé,’ La Tradition, V, 116.

172. Musselburgh Field.

P. 378. Is this the song quoted by Sir Toby in Twelfth Night, II, 3 (and hitherto unidentified), “O, the twelfth day of December”? (G. L. K.)

173. Mary Hamilton.

Pp. 379–97. #I# a was first printed in the second edition of the Minstrelsy, 1803, II, 163. (Read in 1^2, on her; in 3^2, hand.) The copy principally used was one furnished by Sharpe, which was not #A a#, and has not so far been recovered. Besides this, “copies from various quarters” were resorted to. (Half a dozen stanzas are found in #G#, but #G# itself is very likely a compilation). Eight copies from Abbotsford are now printed for the first time. Two of these may have been in Scott’s hands in time to be used, two were certainly not, and for the others we have no date.

There is only one novel feature in all these copies: in #U# 13 Mary’s paramour is a pottinger. The remark that there is no trace of an admixture of the Russian story with that of the apothecary, page 383, must therefore be withdrawn.[151] Mary in this version, as in #E#, #F#, #Q#, #T#, #U#, #V#, #Y#, is daughter of the Duke of York.

#X#, like #E#, #F#, has borrowed from No 95: see 13–15.

* * * * *

S

Finlay sent Scott, March 27, 1803, the following copy of ‘The Queen’s Marie,’ as he “had written it down from memory:” Letters addressed to Sir Walter Scott, I, No 87, Abbotsford. Stanzas 10, 9, 12 appear in the second volume of the Minstrelsy, 1802, p. 154, with the variation of a couple of words, as ‘The Lament of the Queen’s Marie’ (here #I b#). Perhaps Finlay adopted these three stanzas into his copy. Stanzas 1, 3, 6, 8, with very slight variations, were printed by Finlay in the preface to his Scottish Ballads, 1808 (#O#).

1 There lived a lord into the South, An he had daughters three; The youngest o them’s gaen to the king’s court, To learn some courtesie.

2 She had na been in the king’s court A twelvemonth an a day, When word is thro the kitchen gaen, An likewise thro the ha, That Mary Moil was gane wi child To the highest steward of a’.

3 She rowd it into a basket An flang’t into the sea, Saying, Sink ye soon, my bonny babe, Ye’se neer get mair o me.

4 She rowd it into a basket An flang’t into the faem, Saying, Sink ye soon, my bonny babe, I’se gang a maiden hame.

5 O whan the news cam to the king An angry man was he; He has taen the table wi his foot, An in flinders gart it flie.

6 ‘O woe be to you, ye ill woman, An ill death may ye die! Gin ye had spared the sweet baby’s life, It might have been an honour to thee.

7 ‘O busk ye, busk ye, Mary Moil, O busk, an gang wi me, For agen the morn at ten o clock A rare sight ye sall see.’

8 She wadna put on her gown o black, Nor yet wad she o brown, But she wad put on her gown o gowd, To glance thro Embro town.

9 O whan she cam to the Netherbow Port She gied loud laughters three, But whan she cam to the gallows-foot The tear blinded her ee.

10 Saying, O ye mariners, mariners, That sail upon the sea, Let not my father nor mother to wit The death that I maun die.

11 ‘For little did father or mother wit, The day they cradled me, What foreign lands I should travel in, Or what death I should die.

12 ‘Yestreen the Queen had four Maries, The night she’ll hae but three; There was Mary Seton, an Mary Beaton, An Mary Carmichael, an me.’

3^3, 4^3. _We should read_ Sink ye, soom ye, _as in A 3^3, U 14^3, X 4^3, and other copies._

* * * * *

T

Communicated to Sir Walter Scott by Mrs Christiana Greenwood, London, 21st February and 27th May, 1806, from the recitation of her mother and her aunt, who learned the ballad above fifty years before from Kirstan Scot, then an old woman, at Longnewton, near Jedburgh: Letters at Abbotsford, I, Nos 173, 189.

1 There was a duke, and he dwelt in York, And he had daughters three; One of them was an hostler-wife, And two were gay ladies.

2 O word’s gane to Queen Mary’s court, As fast as it coud gee, That Mary Hamilton’s born a bairn, And the baby they coud na see.

3 Then came the queen and a’ her maids, Swift tripping down the stair: ‘Where is the baby, Mary, That we heard weep sae sair?’

4 ‘O say not so, Queen Mary, Nor bear ill tales o me, For this is but a sore sickness That oft times troubles me.’

5 They sought it up, they sought it down, They sought it below the bed, And there the[y] saw the bonny wee babe, Lying wallowing in its bluid.

6 ‘Now busk ye, busk ye, Mary Hamilton, Busk ye and gang wi me, For I maun away to Edinbro town, A rich wedding to see.’

7 Mary wad na put on the black velvet, Nor yet wad put on the brown, But she’s put on the red velvet, To shine thro Edinbro town.

8 When she came unto the town, And near the Tolbooth stair, There stood many a lady gay, Weeping for Mary fair.

9 ‘O haud yeer tongue[s], ye ladys a’, And weep na mair for me! O haud yeer tongues, ye ladys a’, For it’s for my fault I dee.

10 ‘The king he took me on his knee And he gae three drinks to me, And a’ to put the babie back, But it wad na gang back for me.

11 ‘O ye mariners, ye mariners a’, That sail out-owr the sea, Let neither my father nor mother get wit What has become o me!

12 ‘Let neither my father nor mother ken, Nor my bauld brethren three, For muckle wad be the gude red bluid That wad be shed for me.

13 ‘Aft hae I laced Queen Mary’s back, Aft hae I kaimed her hair, And a’ the reward she’s gein to me’s The gallows to be my heir.

14 ‘Yestreen the queen had four Marys, The night she’l hae but three; There was Mary Seatoun, and Mary Beatoun, An Mary Carmichal, an me.’

* * * * *

U

‘Lament of the Queen’s Marie,’ “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 92, Abbotsford. Communicated to Scott, 7th January, 1804, by Rev. George Paxton, Kilmaurs, near Kilmarnock, Ayrshire (afterwards professor of divinity at Edinburgh); from the mouth of Jean Milne, his “aged mother, formerly an unwearied singer of Scotish songs.”

1 ‘My father was the Duke of York, My mother a gay ladye, And I myself a daintie dame; The queen she sent for me.

2 ‘But the queen’s meat it was sae sweet, And her clothing was sae rare, It made me long for a young man’s bed, And I rued it evermair.’

3 But word is up, and word is down, Amang the ladyes a’, That Marie’s born a babe sin yestreen, That babe it is awa.

4 But the queen she gat wit of this, She calld for a berry-brown gown, And she’s awa to Marie’s bower, The bower that Marie lay in.

5 ‘Open your door, my Marie,’ she says, ‘My bonny and fair Marie; They say you have born a babe sin yestreen, That babe I fain wad see.’

6 ‘It is not sae wi me, madam, It is not sae wi me; It is but a fit of my sair sickness, That oft times troubles me.’

7 ‘Get up, get up, my Marie,’ she says, ‘My bonny and fair Marie, And we’ll away to Edinburgh town, And try the verity.’

8 Slowly, slowly, gat she up, And slowly pat she on, And slowly went she to that milk-steed, To ride to Edinburgh town.

9 But when they cam to Edinburgh, And in by the Towbooth stair, There was mony a virtuous ladye Letting the tears fa there.

10 ‘Why weep ye sae for me, madams? Why weep ye sae for me? For sin ye brought me to this town This death ye gar me die.’

11 When she cam to the Netherbow Port, She gae loud laughters three; But when she cam to the gallows-foot The tear blinded her ee.

12 ‘Yestreen the queen had four Maries, The night she’ll hae but three; There was Marie Seton, and Marie Beatoun, And Marie Carmichael, and me.

13 ‘My love he was a pottinger, Mony drink he gae me, And a’ to put back that bonnie babe, But alas! it wad na do.

14 ‘I pat that bonny babe in a box, And set it on the sea; O sink ye, swim ye, bonny babe! Ye’s neer get mair o me.

15 ‘O all ye jolly sailors, That sail upon the sea, Let neither my father nor mother ken The death that I maun die.

16 ‘But if my father and mother kend The death that I maun die, O mony wad be the good red guineas That wad be gien for me.’

* * * * *

V

“Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 9, Abbotsford; in the handwriting of William Laidlaw.

1 ‘My father was the Duke of York, My mother the gay ladie, An I myself a maiden bright, An the queen desired me.’

2 But there word gane to the kitchen, There’s word gane to the ha, That Mary mild she gangs wi child To the uppermost stewart of a’.

3 Than they sought but, and they sou[ght] ben, They sought aneath the bed, An there the fand the bonnie lad-bairn, Lyin lappin in his blood.

4 ‘Gae buss ye, Marie Hamilton, Gae buss ye, buss ye bra, For ye maun away to Edin[brough] town, The queen’s birthday ...’

5 She wadna put on her black, bla[ck] silk, Nor wad she put on the brown, But she pat on the glisterin stufs, To glister in Edinbrough town.

6 An whan she cam to the water-gate Loud laughters gae she three, But whan she cam to the Netherbow Port The tear blinded Marie’s ee.

7 ’Twas up than spak Queen Marie’s nurse, An a sorry woman was she: ‘Whae sae clever o fit and ready o wit Has telld sic news o thee!’

8 ‘Oft have I Queen Marie’s head Oft have I caimd her hair, An a’ the thanks I’ve gotten for that Is the gallows to be my heir!

9 ‘Oft have I dressd Queen Marie’s head, An laid her in her bed, An a’ the thanks I’ve gotten for that Is the green gallows-tree to tread!

10 ‘O spare, O spare, O judge,’ she cried, ‘O spair a day for me!’ ‘There is nae law in our land, ladie, To let a murderer be.’

11 ‘Yestreen the queen had four Maries, The night she’ll hae but three; There was Marie Seaton, and Ma[rie] Bea[ton], An Marie Carmichael, an me.

12 ‘O if my father now but kend The death that I’m to die, O muckle, muckle wad be the red gowd That he wad gie for me.

13 ‘An if my brothers kend the death That I am now to die, O muckle, muckle wad be the red blood That wad be shed for me.’

2^{3,4}. Or: