BOOK II

Chapter 1225,430 wordsPublic domain

_35. Hynd Horn_

Hynd Horn’s bound, love, and Hynd Horn’s free, _With a hey lillelu and a how lo lan;_ Where was ye born, or in what countrie? _And the birk and the broom blows bonnie._

‘In good greenwood, there I was born, And all my forbears me beforn.

III

‘O seven long years I served the King, And as for wages I never gat nane;

‘But ae sight o’ his ae daughter. And that was thro’ an auger-bore.’

Seven long years he served the King, And it’s a’ for the sake of his daughter Jean.

The King an angry man was he; He sent young Hynd Horn to the sea.

VII

He’s gi’en his luve a silver wand Wi’ seven silver laverocks[255] sittin’ thereon.

VIII

She’s gi’en to him a gay gold ring Wi’ seven bright diamonds set therein.

‘As lang’s these diamonds keep their hue, Ye’ll know I am a lover true:

‘But when the ring turns pale and wan, Ye may ken that I love anither man.’

He hoist up sails and awa’ sail’d he Till that he came to a foreign countrie.

XII

One day as he look’d his ring upon, He saw the diamonds pale and wan.

XIII

He’s left the seas and he’s come to the land, And the first that he met was an auld beggar man.

XIV

‘What news, what news? thou auld beggar man, For it’s seven years sin I’ve seen land.’

‘No news,’ said the beggar, ‘no news at a’, But there is a wedding in the King’s ha’.

XVI

‘But there is a wedding in the King’s ha’ That has halden these forty days and twa.’

XVII

‘Cast off, cast off thy auld beggar weed[256], And I’ll gi’e thee my gude grey steed:

XVIII

‘And lend to me your wig o’ hair To cover mine, because it is fair.’--

XIX

‘My begging weed is na for thee, Your riding steed is na for me.’

But part by right and part by wrang Hynd Horn has changed wi’ the beggar man.

XXI

The auld beggar man was bound for to ride, But young Hynd Horn was bound for the bride.

XXII

When he came to the King’s gate, He sought a drink for Hynd Horn’s sake.

XXIII

The bride came trippin’ down the stair, Wi’ the scales o’ red gowd in her hair;

XXIV

Wi’ a cup o’ the red wine in her hand, And that she gae to the auld beggar man.

XXV

Out o’ the cup he drank the wine, And into the cup he dropt the ring.

XXVI

‘O got ye this by sea or land? Or got ye it of a dead man’s hand?’--

XXVII

‘I got it na by sea nor land, But I got it, madam, of your own hand.’

XXVIII

‘O, I’ll cast off my gowns o’ brown, And beg with you frae town to town.

XXIX

‘O, I’ll cast off my gowns o’ red, And I’ll beg wi’ you to win my bread.

XXX

‘O I’ll take the scales o’ gowd frae my hair, And I’ll follow you for evermair.’

XXXI

She has cast awa’ the brown and the red, And she’s follow’d him to beg her bread.

XXXII

She has ta’en the scales o’ gowd frae her hair And she’s follow’d him for evermair.

XXXIII

But atween the kitchen and the ha’ He has let his cloutie[257] cloak down fa’.

XXXIV

And the red gowd shinèd over him a’, _With a hey lillelu, and a how lo lan_; And the bride frae the bridegroom was stown[258] awa’, _And the birk and the broom blows bonnie_.

FOOTNOTES:

[255] laverocks = larks.

[256] weed = clothes.

[257] cloutie = full of clouts, patched.

[258] stown = stolen.

_36. Hynd Etin_

May Margaret sits in her bower door Sewing her silken seam; She heard a note in Elmond’s wood, And wish’d she there had been.

She loot[259] the seam fa’ frae her side, The needle to her tae[260], And she is on to Elmond’s wood As fast as she could gae.

III

She hadna pu’d a nut, a nut, Nor broken a branch but ane, Till by there came the Hynd Etin, Says, ‘Lady, lat alane.

‘O why pu’ ye the nut, the nut, Or why break ye the tree? For I am forester o’ this wood: Ye should spier[261] leave at me.’--

‘I’ll ask leave at nae living man, Nor yet will I at thee; My father is king o’er a’ this realm, This wood belongs to me.’

The highest tree in Elmond’s wood, He’s pu’d it by the reet[262], And he has built for her a bower Near by a hallow seat[263].

VII

He’s kept her there in Elmond’s wood For six lang years and ane, Till six pretty sons to him she bare, And the seventh she’s brought hame.

VIII

It fell out ance upon a day He’s to the hunting gane, And a’ to carry his game for him He’s tane his eldest son.

‘A question I will ask, father, Gin ye wadna angry be.’-- ‘Say on, say on, my bonny boy, Ye’se nae be quarrell’d by me.’

‘I see my mither’s cheeks aye weet, I never can see them dry; And I wonder what aileth my mither To mourn [sae constantly].’--

‘Your mither was a king’s daughtèr, Sprung frae a high degree; She might hae wed some worthy prince Had she na been stown[264] by me.

XII

‘Your mither was a king’s daughtèr Of noble birth and fame, But now she’s wife o’ Hynd Etin, Wha ne’er gat christendame.

XIII

‘But we’ll shoot the buntin’ o’ the bush, The linnet o’ the tree, And ye’se tak’ them hame to your dear mither, See if she’ll merrier be.’

XIV

It fell upon anither day, He’s to the hunting gane And left his seven [young] children To stay wi’ their mither at hame.

‘O I will tell to you, mither, Gin ye wadna angry be.’-- ‘Speak on, speak on, my little wee boy, Ye’se nae be quarrell’d by me.’--

XVI

‘As we came frae the hind-hunting, We heard fine music ring.’-- ‘My blessings on you, my bonny boy, I wish I’d been there my lane.’

XVII

They wistna weel where they were gaen, Wi’ the stratlins[265] o’ their feet; They wistna weel where they were gaen, Till at her father’s yate[266].

XVIII

‘I hae nae money in my pocket, But royal rings hae three; I’ll gie them you, my little young son, And ye’ll walk there for me.

XIX

‘Ye’ll gi’e the first to the proud portèr And he will let you in; Ye’ll gi’e the next to the butler-boy And he will show you ben[267];

‘Ye’ll gi’e the third to the minstrel That plays before the King; He’ll play success to the bonny boy Came thro’ the wood him lane.’

XXI

He ga’e the first to the proud portèr And he open’d and let him in; He ga’e the next to the butler-boy, And he has shown him ben.

XXII

He ga’e the third to the minstrel That play’d before the King, And he play’d success to the bonny boy Came thro’ the wood him lane.

XXIII

Now when he came before the King, Fell low upon his knee; The King he turn’d him round about, And the saut tear blint[268] his e’e.

XXIV

‘Win up, win up, my bonny boy, Gang frae my companie; Ye look sae like my dear daughtèr, My heart will burst in three.’--

XXV

‘If I look like your dear daughtèr, A wonder it is none; If I look like your dear daughtèr, I am her eldest son.’--

XXVI

‘Will ye tell me, ye little wee boy, Where may my Margaret be?’-- ‘She’s just now standing at your yates, And my six brithers her wi’.’--

XXVII

‘O where are a’ my porter-boys That I pay meat and fee, To open my yates baith wide and braid, Let her come in to me?’

XXVIII

When she cam’ in before the King, Fell low down on her knee: ‘Win up, win up, my daughter dear, This day ye’se dine wi’ me.’--

XXIX

‘Ae bit I canna eat, father, Nor ae drop can I drink, Until I see my mither dear, For lang for her I think.’

XXX

When she cam’ in before the queen, Fell low down on her knee; ‘Win up, win up, my daughter dear, This day ye’se dine wi’ me.’--

XXXI

‘Ae bit I canna eat, mither, Nor ae drop can I drink, Until I see my sister dear, For lang for her I think.’

XXXII

When that these twa sisters met, She hail’d her courteouslie; ‘Come ben, come ben, my sister dear, This day ye’se dine wi’ me.’--

XXXIII

‘Ae bit I canna eat, sister, Nor ae drop can I drink, Until I see my dear husband, So lang for him I think.’--

XXXIV

‘O where are a’ my rangers bold That I pay meat and fee, To search the forest far an’ wide, And bring Etin back to me?’

XXXV

Out it speaks the little wee boy: ‘Na, na, this mauna be; Without ye grant a free pardon, I hope ye’ll nae him see.’--

XXXVI

‘O here I grant a free pardon, Well seal’d by my own han’; Ye may mak’ search for Young Etin As soon as ever ye can.’

XXXVII

They search’d the country wide and braid, The forests far and near, And they found him into Elmond’s wood, Tearing his yellow hair.

XXXVIII

‘Win up, win up now, Hynd Etin, Win up an’ boun[269] wi’ me; We’re messengers come frae the court; The King wants you to see.’--

XXXIX

‘O lat them tak’ frae me my head, Or hang me on a tree; For since I’ve lost my dear lady, Life’s no pleasure to me.’--

‘Your head will na be touch’d, Etin, Nor you hang’d on a tree; Your lady’s in her father’s court And a’ he wants is thee.’

XLI

When he cam’ in before the King, Fell low down on his knee; ‘Win up, win up now, Young Etin, This day ye’se dine wi’ me.’

XLII

But as they were at dinner set The wee boy ask’d a boon: ‘I wish we were in a good kirk For to get christendoun.

XLIII

‘For we hae lived in gude green wood This seven years and ane; But a’ this time since e’er I mind Was never a kirk within.’--

XLIV

‘Your asking’s na sae great, my boy, But granted it sall be; This day to gude kirk ye sall gang And your mither sall gang you wi’.’

XLV

When unto the gude kirk she came, She at the door did stan’; She was sae sair sunk down wi’ shame, She couldna come farther ben.

XLVI

Then out and spak’ the parish priest, And a sweet smile ga’e he: ‘Come ben, come ben, my lily-flower, Present your babes to me.’

XLVII

Charles, Vincent, Sam and Dick, And likewise John and James; They call’d the eldest Young Etin, Which was his father’s name.

FOOTNOTES:

[259] loot = let.

[260] tae = toe.

[261] spier = ask.

[262] reet = root.

[263] hallow seat = holy man’s or hermit’s cave.

[264] stown = stolen.

[265] stratlins =? stragglings.

[266] yate = gate.

[267] ben = further in.

[268] blint = blinded.

[269] boun = go.

_37. Erlinton_

Erlinton had a fair daughter; I wat he wear’d her in[270] a great sin; For he has built a bigly bower, And a’ to put that lady in.

An’ he has warn’d her sisters six, An’ sae has he her brethren se’en, Outher to watch her a’ the night, Or else to seek her morn an’ e’en.

III

She hadna been i’ that bigly bower, Na not a night but barely ane, Till there was Willie, her ain true love, Chapp’d[271] at the door, cryin’ ‘Peace within!’

‘O whae is this at my bower door, That chaps sae late, nor kens the gin[272]?’-- ‘O it is Willie, your ain true love, I pray you rise an’ let me in.’--

‘For a’ sae weel as I like ye, Willie, For a’ sae weel as I ken the gin, I wadna for ten thousand pounds, love, Na, no this night wad I let ye in.

‘But in the green-wood is a wake[273], And at the wake there is a wane[274], An’ there I’ll come as sune the morn, love, Na, no a mile but barely ane.

VII

‘On my right hand I’ll have a glo’[275], love, And on my left hand I’ll have nane; I’ll have wi’ me my sisters six, love, And we will wauk the wood our lane[276].’

VIII

Then she’s gane to her bed again, She has layen till the cock crew thrice, An’ then she said to her sisters a’, ‘Maidens, ’tis time for us to rise.’

She pat on her back her silken gown, An’ on her breast a siller pin, An’ she’s ta’en her sisters by the hand, An’ to the green-wood she is gane.

They hadna wauk’d in the bonny green-wood, Na no an hour but barely ane, Till up start Willie, her ain true love, Wha frae her sisters has her ta’en.

An’ he has kiss’d her sisters six, An’ he has sent them hame again, But he has keepit his ain true love, Sayin’ ‘We’ll wauk the woods our lane.’

XII

They hadna wauk’d in the bonnie green-wood Na no an hour but barely ane, Till up start fifteen o’ the bravest outlaws That ever bare either blood or bane.

XIII

Then up bespake the foremost knight,-- An’ O but he spake angrilỳ: Says, ‘Yield to me thy ladye bright, This night shall wauk the woods wi’ me.’--

XIV

‘I like her weel, my ladye bright, And O my life but it lies me near! But before I lose my ladye bright I’ll rather lose my life sae dear.’

But up an’ spake the second knight-- I wat he spake right boustruslie-- Says, ‘Baith your life an’ your ladye bright This night shall wauk the woods wi’ me.’--

XVI

‘My ladye is my warldis meed[277]: My life I winna yield to nane; But if ye be men of your manheid, Ye’ll only fight me ane by ane.--

XVII

‘O sit ye down, my dearest dear, Sit down an’ hold my milk-white steed, An’ see that ye dinna change your cheer Until ye see my body bleed.’

XVIII

He set his back unto an aik[278], He set his feet against a stane, He’s feightin a’ these fifteen outlaws, An’ kill’d them a’ but barely ane.

XIX

An’ he has gane to his ladye dear, I wat he kiss’d her cheek an’ chin-- ‘Thou art mine ain, I have bought thee dear, An’ now we will wauk the woods our lane.’

FOOTNOTES:

[270] wear’d her in = led her into.

[271] chapp’d = knocked.

[272] gin = trick, or sleight, of the door-latch.

[273] wake (_obscure_).

[274] wane = dwelling, arbor.

[275] glo’ = glove.

[276] our lane = we alone.

[277] warldis meed = world’s reward, most precious thing in the world: _or perhaps corrupted from_ warldis make, mate.

[278] aik = oak.

_38. Earl Brand_

O did ye ever hear o’ brave Earl Brand? _Ay lally, o lilly lally_ He courted the King’s daughter o’ fair England _All i’ the night sae early_.

She was scarcely fifteen years that tide[279] Till sae boldly she came to his bedside.

III

‘O Earl Bran’, fain wad I see A pack of hounds let loose on the lea.’--

‘O lady, I have no steeds but one, But thou shall ride, and I will run.’--

‘O Earl Bran’, my father has two, And thou shall have the best of tho’.’--

They have ridden o’er moss and moor, And they have met neither rich nor poor,

VII

Until they met with old Carl Hood: --He’s aye for ill and never for good.

VIII

‘Earl Bran’, if ye love me, Seize this old carl, and gar him die.’--

‘O lady fair, it wad be sair To slay an old man that has grey hair.

‘O lady fair, I’ll no do sae; I’ll gie him a pound and let him gae.’

‘O where hae ye ridden this lee-lang[280] day? Or where hae ye stolen this lady away?’--

XII

‘I have not ridden this lee-lang day, Nor yet have I stolen this lady away.

XIII

‘She is my only, my sick sistèr, Which I have brought from Winchester.’--

XIV

‘If she be sick and like to dead, Why wears she the ribbon sae red?

‘If she be sick and like to die, Then why wears she the gold on high?’

XVI

When came the carl to this lady’s yett[281], Rudely, rudely he rapp’d thereat.

XVII

‘O where’s the lady o’ this ha’?’-- ‘She’s out with her maids to play at the ba’.’--

XVIII

‘Ha, ha, ha! ye are a’ mista’en; Gae count your maidens o’er again.

XIX

‘I met her far beyond the lea, With the young Earl Brand, his leman to be.’

Her father arm’d of his men fifteen, And they’re ridden after them all-by-dene[282].

XXI

O’er her left shoulder the lady look’d then: ‘O Earl Bran’, we both are ta’en!’--

XXII

‘If they come on me ane by ane, Ye may stand by and see them slain.

XXIII

‘But if they come on me ane and all, Ye may stand by and see me fall.’

XXIV

They have come on him ane by ane, And fourteen men he has them slain.

XXV

But the fifteenth man behind stole round, And he’s gi’en him a deadly wound.

XXVI

But for a’ sae wounded as Earl Brand was He has set his lady on her horse.

XXVII

They rode till they came to the water o’ Doune. And there he lighted to wash his wound.

XXVIII

‘O Earl Bran’, I see your heart’s bloud!’-- ‘It’s na but the glent[283] o’ my scarlet hood.’

XXIX

They rode till they came to his mother’s yett, So faint and feebly he rapp’d thereat.

XXX

‘O my son’s slain, he’s falling to swoun, And a’ for the sake of an English loun!’--

XXXI

‘So say not sae, my dearest mother, But marry her to my youngest brother.

XXXII

‘This has not been the death o’ ane, But it’s been the death o’ fair seventeen.’

FOOTNOTES:

[279] tide = time, season.

[280] lee-lang = live-long.

[281] yett = gate.

[282] all-by-dene = all together.

[283] glent = gleam.

_39. The Douglas Tragedy_

‘Rise up, rise up, now Lord Douglas,’ she says, ‘And put on your armour so bright; Let it never be said that a daughter of thine Was married to a lord under night.

‘Rise up, rise up, my seven bold sons, And put on your armour so bright, And take better care of your youngest sister, For your eldest’s awa the last night.’

III

He’s mounted her on a milk-white steed, And himself on a dapple grey, With a bugelet horn hung down his side; And lightly they rode away.

Lord William look’d o’er his left shoulder, To see what he could see, And there he spy’d her seven brethren bold Come riding over the lea.

‘Light down, light down, Lady Margret,’ he said, ‘And hold my steed in your hand, Until that against your seven brethren bold, And your father, I mak’ a stand.’

O, there she stood, and bitter she stood, And never did shed one tear, Until that she saw her seven brethren fa’, And her father, who lov’d her so dear.

VII

‘O hold your hand, Lord William!’ she said, ‘For your strokes they are wondrous sair; True lovers I can get many an ane, But a father I can never get mair.’

VIII

O she’s ta’en out her handkerchief, It was o’ the holland sae fine, And aye she dighted[284] her father’s wounds, That were redder than the wine.

‘O chuse, O chuse, Lady Margret,’ he said, ‘O whether will ye gang or bide?’ ‘I’ll gang, I’ll gang, Lord William,’ she said, ‘For ye’ve left me no other guide.’

He’s lifted her on a milk-white steed, And himself on a dapple grey, With a bugelet horn hung down by his side; And slowly they baith rade away.

O they rade on, and on they rade, And a’ by the light of the moon, Until they came to yon wan water, And there they lighted doun.

XII

They lighted doun to tak’ a drink Of the spring that ran sae clear, And doun the stream ran his gude heart’s blood, And sair she gan to fear.

XIII

‘Hold up, hold up, Lord William,’ she says, ‘For I fear that you are slain.’-- ‘’Tis naething but the shadow of my scarlet cloak, That shines in the water sae plain.’

XIV

O they rade on, and on they rade, And a’ by the light of the moon, Until they cam’ to his mother’s ha’ door, And there they lighted doun.

‘Get up, get up, lady mother,’ he says, ‘Get up, and let me in! Get up, get up, lady mother,’ he says, ‘For this night my fair lady I’ve win.

XVI

‘O mak my bed, lady mother,’ he says, ‘O mak it braid and deep, And lay Lady Margret close at my back, And the sounder I will sleep.’

XVII

Lord William was dead lang ere midnight, Lady Margret lang ere day, And all true lovers that go thegither, May they have mair luck than they!

XVIII

Lord William was buried in St. Mary’s kirk, Lady Margret in Mary’s quire; Out o’ the lady’s grave grew a bonny red rose, And out o’ the knight’s a brier.

XIX

And they twa met, and they twa plat[285], And fain they wad be near; And a’ the warld might ken right weel They were twa lovers dear.

But bye and rade the Black Douglas, And wow but he was rough! For he pull’d up the bonny brier, And flang ’t in St. Mary’s Lough.

FOOTNOTES:

[284] dighted = dressed.

[285] plat = pleated.

_40. Glasgerion_

Glasgerion was a King’s own son, And a harper he was good; He harpèd in the King’s chamber Where cup and candle stood, And so did he in the Queen’s chamber, Till ladies waxèd wood[286].

And then bespake the King’s daughter And these words thus said she: [‘There’s never a stroke comes over this harp, But it glads the heart of me.’]

III

Said, ‘Strike on, strike on, Glasgerion, Of thy striking do not blin[287]; There’s never a stroke comes over thine harp But it glads my heart within.’

‘Fair might you fall, lady,’ quoth he; ‘Who taught you now to speak? I have loved you, lady, seven year; My heart I durst ne’er break.’--

‘But come to my bower, my Glasgerion, When all men are at rest; As I am a lady true of my promise, Thou shalt be a welcome guest.’

But home then came Glasgerion, A glad man, Lord, was he! ‘And come thou hither, Jack, my boy, Come hither unto me.

VII

‘For the King’s daughter of Normandye Her love is granted me; And before the cock have crowen At her chamber must I be.’

VIII

‘But come you hither, master,’ quoth he, ‘Lay your head down on this stone; For I will waken you, master dear, Afore it be time to gone.’

But up then rose that lither[288] lad, And did on hose and shoon; A collar he cast upon his neck, He seemèd a gentleman.

And when he came to that lady’s chamber He tirl’d[289] upon a pin; The lady was true of her promise, Rose up and let him in.

He did not kiss that lady gay When he came nor when he yode[290]; And sore mistrusted that lady gay He was of some churle’s blood.

XII

But home then came that lither lad, And did off his hose and shoon, And cast that collar from ’bout his neck; He was but a churlè’s son: ‘Awaken,’ quoth he, ‘my master dear, I hold it time to be gone.

XIII

‘For I have saddled your horse, master, Well bridled I have your steed; Have not I served a good breakfast When time comes I have need?’

XIV

But up then rose good Glasgerion, And did on both hose and shoon, And cast a collar about his neck; He was a Kingé’s son.

And when he came to that lady’s chamber, He tirl’d upon a pin; The lady was more than true of her promise, Rose up, and let him in.

XVI

Says, ‘Whether have you left with me Your bracelet or your glove? Or are you back return’d again To know more of my love?’

XVII

Glasgerion swore a full great oath By oak and ash and thorn, ‘Lady, I was never in your chamber Sith the time that I was born.’--

XVIII

‘O then it was your little foot-page Falsely hath beguiled me’: And then she pull’d forth a little pen-knife That hangèd by her knee, Says, ‘There shall never no churlè’s blood Spring within my bodye.’

XIX

But home then went Glasgerion, A woe man, Lord, was he; Sayes, ‘Come hither, thou Jack, my boy, Come thou hither to me.

‘For if I had kill’d a man to-night, Jack, I would tell it thee, But if I have not kill’d a man to-night, Jack, thou hast killéd three!’

XXI

And he pull’d out his bright brown sword, And dried it on his sleeve, And he smote off that lither lad’s head And ask’d no man no leave.

XXII

He set the sword’s point till his breast, The pommel till a stone; Through the falseness of that lither lad These three lives wern all gone.

FOOTNOTES:

[286] wood = crazy, wild with delight.

[287] blin = stint, cease.

[288] lither = rascally, vile.

[289] tirl’d = rattled.

[290] yode = went.

_41. King Estmere_

Hearken to me, gentlemen, Come and you shall heare; Ile tell you of two of the boldest brether That ever bornè were.

The tone of them was Adler Younge, The tother was Kyng Estmere; They were as bolde men in their deeds As any were, farr and neare.

III

As they were drinking ale and wine Within his brother’s hall, ‘When will ye marry a wyfe, brother, A wyfe to glad us all?’

Then bespake him Kyng Estmere, And answered him hartilye: ‘I know not that ladye in any land, That’s able to marrye with mee.’--

‘Kyng Adland hath a daughter, brother, Men call her bright and sheene; If I were kyng here in your stead, That ladye shold be my queene.’--

Saies, ‘Reade me, reade me, deare brother, Throughout merry England, Where we might find a messenger Betwixt us towe to sende.’--

VII

Saies, ‘You shal ryde yourselfe, brother, Ile beare you companye; Many a man throughe fals messengers is deceived, And I feare lest soe shold wee.’

VIII

Thus they renisht[291] them to ryde, Of twoe good renisht steeds, And when they came to Kyng Adland’s halle, Of redd gold shone their weeds[292].

And when they came to Kyng Adland’s halle, Before the goodlye gate, There they found good Kyng Adland Rearing[293] himselfe theratt.

‘Now Christ thee save, good Kyng Adland; Now Christ you save and see.’-- Sayd, ‘You be welcome, Kyng Estmere, Right hartilye to mee.’

‘You have a daughter,’ said Adler Younge, ‘Men call her bright and sheene; My brother wold marrye her to his wiffe, Of Englande to be queene.’--

XII

‘Yesterday was att my deere daughter Kyng Bremor his sonne of Spayn, And then she nickèd[294] him of naye, And I doubt sheele do you the same.’--

XIII

‘The Kyng of Spayne is a foule paynim, And ’lieveth on Mahound, And pitye it were that fayre ladye Shold marry a heathen hound.

XIV

‘But grant to me,’ sayes Kyng Estmere, ‘For my love I you praye, That I may see your daughter deere Before I goe hence awaye.’--

‘Although itt is seven yeers and more Since my daughter was in halle, She shall come once downe for your sake, To glad my guestès alle.’

XVI

Downe then came that mayden fayre, With ladyes laced in pall[295], And halfe a hundred of bold knightes, To bring her from bowre to hall, And as many gentle squiers, To tend upon them all.

XVII

The talents of golde were on her head sette Hanged low downe to her knee, And everye ring on her small finger Shone of the chrystall free.

XVIII

Saies, ‘God you save, my deere madam,’ Saies, ‘God you save and see!’-- Said, ‘You be welcome, Kyng Estmere, Right welcome unto mee.

XIX

‘And, if you love me, as you saye, Soe well and hartilee, All that ever you are comen about Soone sped now itt shal bee.’

Then bespake her father deare: ‘My daughter, I saye naye; Remember well the Kyng of Spayne, What he sayd yesterdaye.

XXI

‘He wold pull downe my halles and castles, And reave me of my lyfe; I cannot blame him if he doe, If I reave him of his wyfe.’--

XXII

‘Your castles and your towres, father, Are stronglye built aboute, And therefore of the Kyng his sonne of Spaine Wee neede not stande in doubt.

XXIII

‘Plight me your troth, nowe, Kyng Estmere, By heaven and your righte hand, That you will marrye me to your wyfe, And make me queene of your land.’

XXIV

Then Kyng Estmere he plight his troth, By heaven and his righte hand, That he wolde marrye her to his wyfe, And make her queene of his land.

XXV

And he tooke leave of that ladye fayre, To goe to his owne countree, To fetche him dukes and lordes and knightes, That marryed they might bee.

XXVI

They had not ridden scant a myle, A myle forthe of the towne, But in did come the Kyng of Spayne, With kempès[296] many one.

XXVII

But in did come the Kyng of Spayne, With manye a bold barone, Tone day to marrye Kyng Adland’s daughter, Tother daye to carrye her home.

XXVIII

Shee sent one after Kyng Estmere, In all the spede might bee, That he must either turne againe and fighte, Or goe home and loose his ladye.

XXIX

One whyle then the page he went, Another while he ranne; Till he had oretaken Kyng Estmere, I-wis he never blanne[297].

XXX

‘Tydings, tydings, Kyng Estmere!’-- ‘What tydings nowe, my boye?’-- ‘O tydinges I can tell to you, That will you sore annoye.

XXXI

‘You had not ridden scant a mile, A mile out of the towne, But in did come the Kyng of Spayne, With kempès many a one:

XXXII

‘But in did come the Kyng of Spayne, With manye a bold barone, Tone daye to marrye Kyng Adland’s daughter, Tother daye to carry her home.

XXXIII

‘My ladye fayre she greetes you well, And ever-more well by mee; You must either turne againe and fighte, Or goe home and loose your ladye.’--

XXXIV

Saies, ‘Reade me, reade me, deere brother, My reade shall ryse[298] at thee; Whether it is better to turne and fighte, Or goe home and loose my ladye.’

XXXV

‘Now hearken to me,’ sayes Adler Yonge, ‘And your reade must rise at me; I quicklye will devise a waye To sette thy ladye free.

XXXVI

‘My mother was a westerne woman, And learned in gramarye, And when I learnèd at the schole, Something shee taught itt mee.

XXXVII

‘There growes an hearbe within this field, And iff it were but knowne, His color, which is whyte and redd, It will make blacke and browne.

XXXVIII

‘His color, which is browne and blacke, Itt will make redd and whyte; That sworde is not in all Englande Upon his coate will byte.

XXXIX

‘And you shal be a harper, brother, Out of the north countrye, And Ile be your boy, soe faine of fighte, And beare your harpe by your knee.

‘And you shal be the best harper That ever tooke harpe in hand, And I wil be the best singer That ever sung in this lande.

XLI

‘Itt shal be written in our forheads, All and in grammarye, That we towe are the boldest men That are in all Christentye.’

XLII

And thus they renisht them to ryde, Of tow good renisht steedes, And when they came to Kyng Adland’s halle, Of redd gold shone their weedes.

XLIII

And whan they came to Kyng Adland’s halle Untill the fayre hall yate[299], There they found a proud portèr, Rearing himselfe thereatt.

XLIV

Sayes, ‘Christ thee save, thou proud porter,’ Sayes, ‘Christ thee save and see!’-- ‘Nowe you be welcome,’ sayd the porter, ‘Of what land soever ye bee.’

XLV

‘Wee beenè harpers,’ sayd Adler Younge, ‘Come out of the northe countrye; Wee beenè come hither untill this place This proud weddinge for to see.’--

XLVI

Sayd, ‘And your color were white and redd, As it is blacke and browne, I wold saye Kyng Estmere and his brother Were comen untill this towne.’

XLVII

Then they pulled out a ryng of gold, Layd itt on the porter’s arme: ‘And ever we will thee, proud portèr, Thow wilt saye us no harme.’

XLVIII

Sore he looked on Kyng Estmere, And sore he handled the ryng, Then opened to them the fayre hall yates, He lett for no kind of thyng.

XLIX

Kyng Estmere he stabled his steede Soe fayre att the hall-bord; The froth that came from his brydle bitte Light in Kyng Bremor’s beard.

Saies, ‘Stable thy steed, thou proud harpèr,’ Saies, ‘Stable him in the stalle; It doth not beseeme a proud harpèr To stable his steed in a kyng’s halle.’

‘My ladde he is so lither[300],’ he said, ‘He will doe nought that’s meete; And is there any man in this hall Were able him to beate?’

LII

‘Thou speakst proud words,’ sayes the Kyng of Spaine, ‘Thou harper, here to mee; There is a man within this halle Will beate thy ladd and thee.’--

LIII

‘O let that man come downe,’ he said, ‘A sight of him wold I see; And when hee hath beaten well my ladd, Then he shall beate of mee.’

LIV

Downe then came the kemperye man, And lookèd him in the eare; For all the gold that was under heaven, He durst not neigh[301] him neare.

‘And how nowe, kempe,’ said the Kyng of Spaine, ‘And how, what aileth thee?’-- He saies, ‘It is writt in his forhead, All and in gramarye, That for all the gold that is under heaven, I dare not neigh him nye.’

LVI

Then Kyng Estmere pull’d forth his harpe, And play’d a pretty thinge; The ladye upstart from the borde, And wold have gone from the king.

LVII

‘Stay thy harpe, thou proud harpèr, For God’s love I pray thee; For and thou playes as thou beginns, Thou’lt till[302] my bryde from mee.’

LVIII

He stroake upon his harpe againe, And play’d a pretty thinge; The ladye lough a loud laughter, As shee sate by the king.

LIX

Saies, ‘Sell me thy harpe, thou proud harpèr, And thy stringës all; For as many gold nobles thou shall have, As heere bee ringes in the hall.’

‘What wold ye doe with my harpe,’ he sayd, ‘If I did sell itt yee?’-- ‘To playe my wiffe and me a fitt[303], When abed together wee bee.’

LXI

‘Now sell me,’ quoth hee, ‘thy bryde soe gay, As shee sitts by thy knee; And as many gold nobles I will give As leaves been on a tree.’

LXII

‘And what wold ye doe with my bryde soe gay, Iff I did sell her thee? More seemelye it is for her fayre bodye To lye by mee then thee.’

LXIII

Hee played agayne both loud and shrille, And Adler he did syng, ‘O ladye, this is thy owne true love, Noe harper, but a kyng.

LXIV

‘O Ladye, this is thy owne true love, As playnlye thou mayest see, And Ile rid thee of that foule paynim Who partes thy love and thee.’

LXV

The ladye looked, the ladye blushte, And blushte and lookt agayne, While Adler he hath drawne his brande, And hath the Sowdan slayne.

LXVI

Up then rose the kemperye men, And loud they gan to crye: ‘Ah! traytors, yee have slayne our kyng, And therefore yee shall dye.’

LXVII

Kyng Estmere threwe the harpe asyde, And swith[304] he drew his brand, And Estmere he and Adler Yonge Right stiffe in stour[305] can stand.

LXVIII

And aye their swordes soe sore can byte, Throughe help of gramarye, That soone they have slayne the kempery men, Or forst them forth to flee.

LXIX

Kyng Estmere tooke that fayre ladye, And marryed her to his wiffe, And brought her home to merry England, With her to lead his life.

FOOTNOTES:

[291] renisht = _perhaps for_ ‘revisht’, dressed, arrayed.

[292] weeds = garments.

[293] rearing = leaning.

[294] nickèd = refused.

[295] pall = fine cloth.

[296] kempès = fighting-men.

[297] blanne = halted.

[298] My reade shall ryse = my counsel shall arise, or spring, from thee.

[299] yate = gate.

[300] lither = naughty.

[301] neigh = come nigh, approach.

[302] till = entice.

[303] fitt = strain of music.

[304] swith = swiftly.

[305] stour = press of fighting.

_42. Fair Annie_

‘It’s narrow, narrow, mak your bed, And learn to lie your lane; For I’m gaun owre the sea, Fair Annie, A braw Bride to bring hame. Wi’ her I will get gowd and gear, Wi’ you I ne’er gat nane.

‘But wha will bake my bridal bread, Or brew my bridal ale? And wha will become my bright Bride, That I bring owre the dale?’--

III

‘It’s I will bake your bridal bread, And brew your bridal ale; And I will welcome your bright Bride, That you bring owre the dale.’--

‘But she that welcomes my bright Bride Maun gang like maiden fair; She maun lace on her robe sae jimp[306], And comely braid her hair.

‘Bind up, bind up your yellow hair, And tie it on your neck; And see you look as maiden-like As the day that first we met.’--

‘O how can I gang maiden-like, When maiden I am nane? Have I not borne six sons to thee, And am wi’ child again?’--

VII

‘I’ll put cooks into my kitchen, And stewards in my hall, And I’ll have bakers for my bread, And brewers for my ale; But you’re to welcome my bright Bride, That I bring owre the dale.’

VIII

Three months and a day were gane and past, Fair Annie she gat word That her love’s ship was come at last, Wi’ his bright young Bride aboard.

She’s ta’en her young son in her arms, Anither in her hand; And she’s gane up to the highest tower, Looks over sea and land.

‘Come doun, come doun, my mother dear, Come aff the castle wa’! I fear if langer ye stand there, Ye’ll let yoursell doun fa’.’

She’s ta’en a cake o’ the best bread, A stoup o’ the best wine, And a’ the keys upon her arm, And to the yett[307] is gane.

XII

‘O ye’re welcome hame, my ain gude lord, To your castles and your towers; Ye’re welcome hame, my ain gude lord, To your ha’s, but and your bowers. And welcome to your hame, fair lady! For a’ that’s here is yours.’

XIII

‘O whatna lady’s that, my lord, That welcomes you and me? Gin I be lang about this place, Her friend I mean to be.’

XIV

Fair Annie served the lang tables Wi’ the white bread and the wine; But ay she drank the wan water To keep her colour fine.

And aye she served the lang tables Wi’ the white bread and the brown, And aye she turn’d her round about, Sae fast the tears fell doun.

XVI

She took a napkin lang and white, And hung it on a pin; It was to wipe away the tears, As she gaed out and in.

XVII

When bells were rung and mass was sung, And a’ men bound for bed, The bridegroom and the bonny Bride In ae chamber were laid.

XVIII

Fair Annie’s ta’en a harp in her hand, To harp thir twa asleep; But ay, as she harpit and she sang, Fu’ sairly did she weep.

XIX

‘O gin my sons were seven rats, Rinnin’ on the castle wa’, And I mysell a great grey cat, I soon wad worry them a’!

‘O gin my sons were seven hares, Rinnin’ owre yon lily lea, And I mysell a good greyhound, Soon worried they a’ should be!’

XXI

Then out and spak the bonny young Bride, In bride-bed where she lay: ‘That’s like my sister Annie,’ she says; ‘Wha is it doth sing and play?

XXII

‘I’ll put on my gown,’ said the new-come Bride, ‘And my shoes upon my feet; I will see wha doth sae sadly sing, And what is it gars her greet.

XXIII

‘What ails you, what ails you, my housekeeper, That ye mak sic a mane? Has ony wine-barrel cast its girds, Or is a’ your white bread gane?’--

XXIV

‘It isna because my wine is spilt, Or that my white bread’s gane; But because I’ve lost my true love’s love, And he’s wed to anither ane.’--

XXV

‘Noo tell me wha was your father?’ she says, ‘Noo tell me wha was your mither? And had ye ony sister?’ she says, ‘And had ye ever a brither?’--

XXVI

‘The Earl of Wemyss was my father, The Countess of Wemyss my mither, Young Elinor she was my sister dear, And Lord John he was my brither.’--

XXVII

‘If the Earl of Wemyss was your father, I wot sae was he mine; And it’s O my sister Annie! Your love ye sallna tyne[308].

XXVIII

‘Tak your husband, my sister dear; You ne’er were wrang’d for me, Beyond a kiss o’ his merry mouth As we cam owre the sea.

XXIX

‘Seven ships, loaded weel, Cam owre the sea wi’ me; Ane o’ them will tak me hame, And six I’ll gie to thee.’

FOOTNOTES:

[306] jimp = slender, trim.

[307] yett = gate.

[308] tyne = lose.

_43. The Lass of Lochroyan_

‘O wha will shoe my bonny foot? And wha will glove my hand? And wha will bind my middle jimp[309] Wi’ a lang, lang linen band?

‘O wha will kame[310] my yellow hair, With a haw bayberry[311] kame? And wha will be my babe’s father Till Gregory come hame?’--

III

‘Thy father, he will shoe thy foot, Thy brother will glove thy hand, Thy mither will bind thy middle jimp Wi’ a lang, lang linen band.

‘Thy sister will kame thy yellow hair, Wi’ a haw bayberry kame; The Almighty will be thy babe’s father Till Gregory come hame.’--

‘And wha will build a bonny ship, And set it on the sea? For I will go to seek my love, My ain love Gregory.’

Up then spak her father dear, A wafu’ man was he; ‘And I will build a bonny ship, And set her on the sea.

VII

‘And I will build a bonny ship, And set her on the sea, And ye sal gae and seek your love, Your ain love Gregory.’

VIII

Then he’s gart build a bonny ship, And set it on the sea, Wi’ four-and-twenty mariners, To bear her company.

O he’s gart build a bonny ship, To sail on the salt sea; The mast was o’ the beaten gold, The sails o’ cramoisie[312].

The sides were o’ the gude stout aik, The deck o’ mountain pine, The anchor o’ the silver shene, The ropes o’ silken twine.

She hadna sail’d but twenty leagues, But twenty leagues and three, When she met wi’ a rank reiver[313], And a’ his companie.

XII

‘Now are ye Queen of Heaven hie, Come to pardon a’ our sin? Or are ye Mary Magdalane, Was born at Bethlehem?’--

XIII

‘I’m no the Queen of Heaven hie, Come to pardon ye your sin, Nor am I Mary Magdalane, Was born in Bethlehem.

XIV

‘But I’m the lass of Lochroyan, That’s sailing on the sea To see if I can find my love, My ain love Gregory.’--

‘O see na ye yon bonny bower? It’s a’ covered owre wi’ tin? When thou hast sail’d it round about, Lord Gregory is within.’

XVI

And when she saw the stately tower, Shining both clear and bright, Whilk stood aboon the jawing[314] wave, Built on a rock of height,

XVII

Says, ‘Row the boat, my mariners, And bring me to the land, For yonder I see my love’s castle, Close by the salt sea strand.’

XVIII

She sail’d it round, and sail’d it round, And loud and loud cried she, ‘Now break, now break your fairy charms, And set my true-love free!’

XIX

She’s ta’en her young son in her arms, And to the door she’s gane, And long she knock’d, and sair she ca’d, But answer got she nane.

‘O open, open, Gregory! O open! if ye be within; For here’s the lass of Lochroyan, Come far fra kith and kin.

XXI

‘O open the door, Lord Gregory! O open and let me in! The wind blows loud and cauld, Gregory, The rain drops fra my chin.

XXII

‘The shoe is frozen to my foot, The glove unto my hand, The wet drops fra my yellow hair, Na langer dow[315] I stand.’

XXIII

O up then spak his ill mither, --An ill death may she die! ‘Ye’re no the lass of Lochroyan, She’s far out-owre the sea.

XXIV

‘Awa’, awa’, ye ill woman, Ye’re no come here for gude; Ye’re but some witch or wil’ warlock, Or mermaid o’ the flood.’--

XXV

‘I am neither witch nor wil’ warlock, Nor mermaid o’ the sea, But I am Annie of Lochroyan, O open the door to me!’--

XXVI

‘Gin ye be Annie of Lochroyan, As I trow thou binna she, Now tell me of some love-tokens That pass’d ’tween thee and me.’

XXVII

‘O dinna ye mind, love Gregory, As we sat at the wine, We changed the rings frae our fingers? And I can shew thee thine.

XXVIII

‘O yours was gude, and gude enough, But ay the best was mine, For yours was o’ the gude red gowd, But mine o’ the diamond fine.

XXIX

‘Yours was o’ the gude red gowd, Mine o’ the diamond fine; Mine was o’ the purest troth, But thine was false within.’--

XXX

‘If ye be the lass of Lochroyan, As I kenna thou be, Tell me some mair o’ the love-tokens Pass’d between thee and me.’--

XXXI

‘And dinna ye mind, love Gregory! As we sat on the hill, Thou twin’d me o’ my maidenheid, Right sair against my will?

XXXII

‘Now open the door, love Gregory! Open the door! I pray; For thy young son is in my arms; And will be dead ere day.’--

XXXIII

‘Ye lie, ye lie, ye ill woman, So loud I hear ye lie; For Annie of the Lochroyan Is far out-owre the sea.’

XXXIV

Fair Annie turn’d her round about: ‘Weel, sine that it be sae, May ne’er woman that has borne a son Hae a heart sae fu’ o’ wae!

XXXV

‘Tak down, tak down that mast o’ gowd, Set up a mast of tree; It disna become a forsaken lady To sail sae royallie.’

XXXVI

When the cock had crawn, and the day did dawn, And the sun began to peep, Up then raise Lord Gregory, And sair, sair did he weep.

XXXVII

‘O I hae dream’d a dream, mither, I wish it may bring good! That the bonny lass of Lochroyan At my bower window stood.

XXXVIII

‘O I hae dream’d a dream, mither, The thought o’t gars me greet! That fair Annie of Lochroyan Lay dead at my bed-feet.’--

XXXIX

‘Gin it be for Annie of Lochroyan That ye mak a’ this mane, She stood last night at your bower-door, But I hae sent her hame.’--

‘O wae betide ye, ill woman, An ill death may ye die! That wadna open the door yoursell Nor yet wad waken me.’

XLI

O he’s gane down to yon shore-side, As fast as he could dree, And there he saw fair Annie’s bark A rowing owre the sea.

XLII

‘O Annie, Annie,’ loud he cried, ‘O Annie, O Annie, bide!’ But ay the mair he cried ‘Annie,’ The braider grew the tide.

XLIII

‘O Annie, Annie, dear Annie, Dear Annie, speak to me!’ But ay the louder he ’gan call, The louder roar’d the sea.

XLIV

The wind blew loud, the waves rose hie And dash’d the boat on shore; Fair Annie’s corpse was in the faem, The babe rose never more.

XLV

Lord Gregory tore his gowden locks And made a wafu’ moan; Fair Annie’s corpse lay at his feet, His bonny son was gone.

XLVI

O cherry, cherry was her cheek, And gowden was her hair, And coral, coral was her lips, Nane might with her compare!

XLVII

Then first he kiss’d her pale, pale cheek, And syne he kiss’d her chin, And syne he kiss’d her wane, wane lips, There was na breath within.

XLVIII

‘O wae betide my ill mither, An ill death may she die! She turn’d my true-love frae my door, Who cam so far to me.

XLIX

‘O wae betide my ill mither, An ill death may she die! She has no been the deid[316] o’ ane, But she’s been the deid of three.’

Then he’s ta’en out a little dart, Hung low down by his gore[317], He thrust it through and through his heart, And words spak never more.

FOOTNOTES:

[309] jimp = slim.

[310] kame = comb.

[311] haw bayberry =? _a corruption for_ ‘braw ivory’: _or_ bayberry _may_ = laurel-wood.

[312] cramoisie = crimson.

[313] reiver = robber.

[314] jawing = surging.

[315] dow = can.

[316] deid = death.

[317] gore = skirt, waist.

_44. Young Bekie_

Young Bekie was as brave a knight As ever sail’d the sea; And he’s doen him to the court of France, To serve for meat and fee.

He had nae been i’ the court of France A twelvemonth nor sae long, Til he fell in love with the king’s daughter, And was thrown in prison strong.

III

The king he had but ae daughter, Burd Isbel was her name; And she has to the prison-house gane, To hear the prisoner’s mane.

‘O gin a lady wou’d borrow[318] me, At her stirrup-foot I wou’d rin; Or gin a widow wou’d borrow me, I wou’d swear to be her son.

‘Or gin a virgin wou’d borrow me, I wou’d wed her wi’ a ring; I’d gie her ha’s, I’d gie her bowers, The bonny towrs o’ Linne.’

O barefoot, barefoot gaed she but[319], And barefoot came she ben[320]; It was no for want o’ hose and shoone, Nor time to put them on;

VII

But a’ for fear that her father dear Had heard her making din: She’s stown the keys o’ the prison-house door And latten the prisoner gang.

VIII

O whan she saw him, Young Bekie, Her heart was wondrous sair! For the mice but and the bold rottons[321] Had eaten his yallow hair.

She’s gi’en him a shaver for his beard, A comber till his hair, Five hunder pound in his pocket, To spen’ and nae to spair.

She’s gi’en him a steed was good in need, An’ a saddle o’ royal bone[322], A leash o’ hounds o’ ae litter, And Hector callèd one.

Atween this twa a vow was made, ’Twas made full solemnly. That or three years was come an’ gane, Well married they should be.

XII

He had nae been in ’s ain country A twelvemonth till an end, Till he’s forc’d to marry a duke’s daughter, Or than[323] lose a’ his land.

XIII

‘Ohon, alas!’ says Young Bekie, ‘I know not what to dee; For I canno win to Burd Isbel, An’ she kensnae to come to me.’

XIV

O it fell once upon a day Burd Isbel fell asleep, And up it starts the Billy Blind[324], And stood at her bed-feet.

‘O waken, waken, Burd Isbel, How can you sleep so soun’, Whan this is Bekie’s wedding day, An’ the marriage gaïn on?

XVI

‘Ye do ye to your mither’s bowr, Think neither sin nor shame; An’ ye tak twa o’ your mither’s marys[325], To keep ye frae thinking lang.

XVII

‘Ye dress yoursel’ in the red scarlèt, An’ your marys in dainty green, An’ ye pit girdles about your middles Wou’d buy an earldome.

XVIII

‘O ye gang down by yon sea-side, An’ down by yon sea-stran’; Sae bonny will the Hollan’s boats Come rowin’ till your han’.

XIX

‘Ye set your milke-white foot abord, Cry, Hail ye, Domine! An’ I shal be the steerer o’t, To row you o’er the sea.’

She’s tane her till her mither’s bowr, Thought neither sin nor shame, And she took twa o’ her mither’s marys, To keep her frae thinking lang.

XXI

She dress’d hersel’ i’ the red scarlèt, Her marys i’ dainty green, And they pat girdles about their middles Wou’d buy an earldome.

XXII

And they gid down by yon sea-side, And down by yon sea-stran’; Sae bonny did the Hollan’s boats Come rowin’ to their han’.

XXIII

She set her milke-white foot on board, Cried, Hail ye, Domine! And the Billy Blind was the steerer o’t, To row her o’er the sea.

XXIV

Whan she came to young Bekie’s gate, She heard the music play; Sae well she kent frae a’ she heard, It was his wedding day.

XXV

She’s pitten her han’ in her pocket, Gi’en the porter guineas three; ‘Hae, tak ye that, ye proud portèr, Bid the bride-groom speake to me.’

XXVI

O whan that he cam up the stair, He fell low down on his knee: He hail’d the king, and he hail’d the queen, And he hail’d him, Young Bekie.

XXVII

‘O I’ve been porter at your gates This thirty years an’ three; But there’s three ladies at them now, Their like I never did see.

XXVIII

‘There’s ane o’ them dress’d in red scarlèt, An’ twa in dainty green, An’ they hae girdles about their middles Wou’d buy an earldome.’

XXIX

Then out it spake the bierly[326] bride, Was a’ goud to the chin; ‘Gin she be braw without,’ she says, ‘We’s be as braw within.’

XXX

Then up it starts him, Young Bekie, And the tears was in his e’e: ‘I’ll lay my life it’s Burd Isbel, Come o’er the sea to me.’

XXXI

O quickly ran he down the stair, And whan he saw ’t was shee, He kindly took her in his arms, And kiss’d her tenderly.

XXXII

‘O hae ye forgotten, Young Bekie, The vow ye made to me, Whan I took you out o’ the prison strong, Whan ye was condemn’d to die?

XXXIII

‘I gae you a steed was good in need, An’ a saddle o’ royal bone, A leash o’ hounds o’ ae litter, An’ Hector callèd one.’

XXXIV

It was well kent what the lady said, That it wasnae a lee, For at ilka word the lady spake, The hound fell at her knee.

XXXV

‘Tak hame, tak hame your daughter dear, A blessing gae her wi’! For I maun marry my Burd Isbel, That’s come o’er the sea to me.’

XXXVI

‘Is this the custom o’ your house, Or the fashion o’ your lan’, To marry a maid in a May mornin’, An’ to send her back at even?’

FOOTNOTES:

[318] borrow = ransom.

[319] but = out.

[320] ben = in.

[321] rottons = rats.

[322] royal bone = ivory.

[323] Or than = Or else.

[324] Billy Blind = a friendly household fairy. See p. 80.

[325] marys = maids.

[326] bierly = stately.

_45. Young Beichan_

(_Another version of the foregoing_)

In London was Young Beichan born, He long’d strange countries for to see; But he was ta’en by a savage Moor Who handled him right cruellie.

For he view’d the fashions of that land, Their way of worship viewèd he; But to Mahound or Termagant Would Beichan never bend a knee.

III

So thro’ every shoulder they’ve bored a bore, And thro’ every bore they’ve putten a tree, And they have made him trail the wine And spices on his fair bodie.

They’ve casten him in a dungeon deep, Where he could neither hear nor see; And fed him on nought but bread and water Till he for hunger’s like to die.

This Moor he had but ae daughter, Her name was callèd Susie Pye, And every day as she took the air She heard Young Beichan sadly crie:

‘My hounds they all run masterless, My hawks they flie from tree to tree, My youngest brother will heir my lands; Fair England again I’ll never see!

VII

‘O were I free as I hae been, And my ship swimming once more on sea, I’d turn my face to fair England And sail no more to a strange countrie!’

VIII

Young Beichan’s song for thinking on All night she never closed her e’e; She’s stown[327] the keys from her father’s head Wi’ mickle gold and white monie.

And she has open’d the prison doors: I wot she open’d twa or three Ere she could come Young Beichan at, He was lock’d up so curiouslie.

‘O hae ye any lands or rents, Or cities in your own countrie, Cou’d free you out of prison strong And cou’d maintain a lady free?’--

‘O London city is my own, And other cities twa or three; I’ll give them all to the lady fair That out of prison will set me free.’

XII

O she has bribed her father’s men Wi’ mickle gold and white monie, She’s gotten the keys of the prison strong, And she has set Young Beichan free.

XIII

She’s fed him upon the good spice-cake, The Spanish wine and the malvoisie; She’s broken a ring from off her finger And to Beichan half of it gave she.

XIV

‘Go set your foot on good shipboard, And haste you back to your own countrie, But before that seven years has an end, Come back again, love, and marry me.’

It was long or seven years had an end She long’d full sore her love to see; So she’s set her foot on good ship-board And turn’d her back on her own countrie.

XVI

She’s sailèd east, she’s sailèd west, She’s sailèd all across the sea, And when she came to fair England The bells were ringing merrilie.

XVII

‘O whose are a’ yon flock o’ sheep? And whose are a’ yon flock o’ kye[328]? And whose are a’ yon pretty castles, That I so often do pass by?’

XVIII

‘O they are a’ Lord Beichan’s sheep, And they are a’ Lord Beichan’s kye, And they are a’ Lord Beichan’s castles That you so often do pass by.

XIX

‘O there’s a wedding in yonder ha’, Has lasted thirty days and three; Lord Beichan will not bed wi’ his bride For love of one that’s ’yond the sea.’

When she came to Young Beichan’s gate She tirlèd[329] softly at the pin; So ready was the proud portèr To open and let this lady in.

XXI

‘Is this Young Beichan’s gates?’ she says, ‘Or is that noble lord within?’-- ‘He’s up the stairs wi’ his bonny bride, For this is the day o’ his weddin’.’--

XXII

‘O has he taken a bonny bride, And has he clean forgotten me?’ And sighing said that ladye gay, ‘I wish I were in my own countrie!’

XXIII

She’s putten her hand in her pockèt And gi’en the porter guineas three; Says, ‘Take ye that, ye proud portèr, And bid the bridegroom speak with me.’

XXIV

And she has ta’en her gay gold ring, That with her love she brake so free; Says, ‘Gie him that, ye proud portèr, And bid the bridegroom speak with me.’

XXV

O when the porter came up the stair, He’s kneelèd low upon his knee: ‘Won[330] up, won up, ye proud portèr, And what makes a’ this courtesie?’--

XXVI

‘O I’ve been porter at your gates I’m sure this thirty years and three, But there is a lady stands thereat The fairest I did ever see.’

XXVII

It’s out then spake the bride’s mother, --Aye, and an angry woman was she-- ‘Ye might have excepted our bonny bride, And twa or three of our companie.’

XXVIII

‘My dame, your daughter’s fair enough, And aye the fairer mote she be! But the fairest time that ever she was, She’ll no compare wi’ this ladye.

XXIX

‘For on every finger she has a ring, And on the mid-finger she has three, And as mickle gold she has on her brow ’Would buy an earldome o’ land to me.

XXX

‘And this golden ring that’s broken in twa, She sends the half o’ this golden ring, And bids you speak with a lady fair, That out o’ prison did you bring.’

XXXI

Then up and started Young Beichan And sware so loud by Our Ladye, ‘It can be none but Susie Pye, That has come over the sea to me!

XXXII

O quickly ran he down the stair, Of fifteen steps he made but three; He’s ta’en his bonny love in his arms And kiss’d and kiss’d her tenderlie.

XXXIII

‘O have ye ta’en another bride, And have ye quite forsaken me? And have ye clean forgotten her That gave you life and libertie?’

XXXIV

She’s lookèd over her left shoulder To hide the tears stood in her e’e; ‘Now fare-thee-well, Young Beichan,’ she says-- ‘I’ll strive to think no more on thee.’

XXXV

‘O never, never, Susie Pye, For surely this can never be, That ever I shall wed but her That’s done and dreed[331] so much for me!’

XXXVI

Then up bespake the bride’s mother-- She never was heard to speak so free: ‘Ye’ll not forsake my only daughter, Though Susie Pye has cross’d the sea.’

XXXVII

‘Take home, take home your daughter, madam, She’s never a bit the worse for me; For saving a kiss of her bonny lips Of your daughter’s body I am free.’

XXXVIII

He’s ta’en her by the milk-white hand And led her to yon fountain-stone[332]; He’s changed her name from Susie Pye And call’d her his bonny love Lady Joan.

FOOTNOTES:

[327] stown = stolen.

[328] kye = kine, cattle.

[329] tirlèd = rattled.

[330] won = win, get.

[331] dreed = suffered.

[332] fountain-stone = font.

_46. Childe Waters_

Childe Waters in his stable stood Stroking his milk-white steed: To him came a fair young lady As ever wore woman’s weed.

Says, ‘Christ you save, Childe Waters!’ Says, ‘Christ you save and see! My girdle of gold, which was too long, Is now too short for me.

III

‘And all is with one child of yours I feel stir at my side: My gown of green, it is too strait; Before it was too wide.’--

‘If the child be mine, Burd Ellen,’ he said, ‘Be mine as you do swear, Take you Cheshire and Lancashire both, And make that child your heir.’

She says, ‘I would rather have one kiss, Childe Waters, of thy mouth Than I would have Cheshire and Lancashire both, That lies by north and south.’--

‘To-morrow, Ellen, I must ride Far into the north countrye.’-- ‘Then I will run low by your side: Your foot-page let me be!’--

VII

‘If you will be my foot-page, Ellen, As you do tell it me, Then you must cut your gown of green An inch above your knee.’

VIII

Childe Waters leapt on his milk-white steed, And fast away did ride: Burd Ellen has kilted her gay clothing, And ran low by his side.

All this long day Childe Waters rode, She barefoot by his side; Yet was he never so courteous a knight As to say, ‘Burd Ellen, ride.’

He has ridden, and she has run, And barefoot through the broom; Yet was he never so courteous a knight As to say, ‘Put on your shoon.’

‘Ride softly,’ she said, ‘Childe Waters! O why do you ride so fast? The child which is no man’s but yours My body it will brast.’

XII

He has ridden on high horseback, And she’s run low beside, Until they came to a wan water-- I think men call it Clyde.

XIII

Says, ‘See’st yon water, Ellen, That flows from bank to brim?’-- ‘I trust to God, Childe Waters You will never see me swim.’

XIV

The firsten step Burd Ellen stept, The water came to her knee; ‘Ochon, alas!’ said Burd Ellen, ‘This water’s o’er deep for me!’

The neisten step Burd Ellen stept, The water came to her middle; And sighing said Burd Ellen, ‘I’ve wetted my golden girdle!’

XVI

The thirden step Burd Ellen slept, The water came to her pap; And the bairn that was in her two sides For cold began to quake.

XVII

‘Lie still, lie still, my own dear babe! Ye work your mother woe; Your father that rides on high horseback Cares little for us two.’

XVIII

About the midst of Clyde-water There was a yeard-fast[333] stone: He lightly turn’d his horse about And took Burd Ellen on.

XIX

When she over the water won, She then came to his knee: Says, ‘How far is it to your lodgin’ Where we this night may be?’--

‘Seest thou not yon castle, Ellen? Of red gold shines the gate: There is twenty-and-four fair ladies And one my worldly mate.

XXI

‘Seest thou not yon castle, Ellen? Of red gold shines the tower: There is twenty-and-four fair ladies, And one my paramour.

XXII

‘Seest thou not yon castle, Ellen, That shines so fair to see? There’s a lady in it, Ellen, Will sunder you and me.’--

XXIII

‘I do see the castle, Childe Waters: Of red gold shines the gate. God give you good then of yourself, And of your worldly mate!

XXIV

‘I wish no ill to your lady; She ne’er wish’d none to me; But I wish the maid most of your love Dries[334] this and more for thee.

XXV

‘I wish no ill to your lady; She ne’er comes in my thought; But I wish the maid most of your love That dearest has you bought.’--

XXVI

‘But my hounds shall eat of the bread of wheat, And you of the bread of bran; And you shall curse the heavy hour That ever your love began.

XXVII

‘But my horse shall drink of the good red wine, And you of the water wan; And you will sigh and say “Alas, That ever I loved a man!”’--

XXVIII

‘O, I will drink of the wan water, And eat of the bread of bran; And aye will I bless the happy hour That ever I loved a man.’

XXIX

O four-and-twenty gay ladies Were playing at the ball, But Ellen, the fairest lady, Must bring his steed to stall.

XXX

And four-and-twenty gay ladies Were playing at the chess, But Ellen, the fairest lady, Must bring his horse to grass.

XXXI

When bells were rung, and mass was sung, And a’ men bound to meat, Burd Ellen was at the bye-table Among the foot-men set.

XXXII

‘O eat and drink, my bonny boy, The white bread and the beer.’-- ‘The never a bit can I eat or drink, My heart’s so full of fear.’--

XXXIII

‘O eat and drink, my bonny boy, The white bread and the wine.’-- ‘O I cannot eat nor drink, master, My heart’s so full of pine[335].’

XXXIV

But out and spake Childe Waters’ mother, And a skilly[336] dame was she: ‘Where met ye with that little foot-page That looks so sad on thee?

XXXV

‘Sometimes his cheek is rosy red, And sometimes deadly wan; He’s liker a woman big with bairn Than a young lord’s serving-man.’

XXXVI

And then bespake Childe Waters’ sister, And these were the words said she: ‘You have the prettiest foot-page, brother, Let him go into chamber with me.’--

XXXVII

‘It is more meet for a little foot-page, That has run through moss and mire, To take his supper upon his knee, And sit by the kitchen fire, Than to go into chamber with any lady That wears so rich attire.

XXXVIII

‘Rise up, rise up, my bonny boy; Give my horse corn and hay.’-- ‘O that I will, my master dear, As quickly as I may.’

XXXIX

She’s ta’en the hay under her arm, The corn into her hand, And she’s gone to the great stable As fast as e’er she can.

‘O room ye round, my bonny brown steeds! O room ye near the wall! For this pain that strikes me through my sides Full soon will gar me fall.’

XLI

She’s lean’d her back against the wall, Strong travail seized her on; And even among the great horse’ feet Burd Ellen brought forth her son.

XLII

And that beheard Childe Waters’ mother, Sat in her bower alone. ‘Rise up, rise up, Childe Waters,’ she said, ‘Seek neither hose nor shoon!’

XLIII

She said, ‘Rise up, thou Childe Waters, I think thou’rt a cursèd man; For yonder’s a ghost in thy stable That grievously doth groan, Or else some woman labours of child, She is so woe-begone.’

XLIV

But up then rose Childe Waters, Stay’d neither for hose nor shoon, And he’s doen him to the stable-door Wi’ the clear light of the moon.

XLV

And when he came to the stable-door, Full still there he did stand, That he might hear Burd Ellen, How she made her monand[337].

XLVI

She said, ‘Lullabyè, my own dear child! Lùllabye, dear child dear! I would thy father were a king, Thy mother laid on a bier!’--

XLVII

‘O open the door, Burd Ellen! O open and let me in! I want to see if my steed be fed, Or my greyhounds fit to rin.’--

XLVIII

‘How can I open, how shall I open, How can I open to thee, When lying amang your great steeds’ feet, Your young son on my knee?’

XLIX

He strack the door hard wi’ his foot, And push’d it wi’ his knee; And iron locks and iron bars Into the floor flung he. ‘Be not afraid, Burd Ellen,’ he says, ‘There’s none comes in but me.’

‘An asking, an asking, Childe Waters, An asking I beg of thee: May the meanest maid about your house Bring a glass o’ water to me!’

Up he has ta’en his bonny young son, Gar’d wash him wi’ the milk; And up he has taken his fair lady, Gar’d row[338] her in the silk.

LII

‘Peace now,’ he said, ‘Burd Ellen, And be of good cheer, I pray; Your bridal and your churching both Shall be upon one day.’

FOOTNOTES:

[333] yeard-fast = fast in earth.

[334] Dries = endures.

[335] pine = pain.

[336] skilly = wise, knowledgeable.

[337] monand = moaning.

[338] row = wrap.

_47. Childe Maurice_

Childe Maurice hunted the Silver Wood, He whistled and he sang: ‘I think I see the woman yonder That I have lovèd lang.’

He callèd to his little man John, ‘You don’t see what I see; For yonder I see the very first woman That ever lovèd me.’

III

He says, ‘Come hither, my little man John, That I pay meat and fee, For thou shalt go to John Steward’s wife And greet her well from me;

‘And as it falls as many times As knots be knit in a kell[339], Or merchantmen go to leeve[340] Londòn To buy ware or to sell;

‘And as it falls as many times As any heart can think, Or school-masters are in any school Writing with pen and ink.

‘Here is a glove, a glove,’ he says, ‘Lined wi’ the silver-gris[341]; Bid her to come to Silver Wood To speak with Childe Maurice.

VII

‘And here is a ring, a ring,’ he says, ‘A ring of the precious stone: He prays her come to Silver Wood And ask the leave of none.’--

VIII

‘Well do I love your errand, master, But better I love my life. Would ye have me go to John Steward’s castle, To tryst away his wife?’--

‘Do not I give you meat?’ he says, ‘Do not I give you fee? How daur you stop my errand When that I bid you flee?’

This little man John one while he yode[342], Another while he ran; Until he came to John Steward’s castle I wis he never blan[343].

He ask’d no porter’s leave, but ran Up hall and bower free, And when he came to John Steward’s wife, Says, ‘God you save and see!

XII

‘I come, I am come from Childe Maurice-- A message unto thee! And Childe Maurice he greets you well, And ever so well from me,

XIII

‘And as it falls as oftentimes As knots be knit in a kell, Or merchantmen go to leeve Londòn To buy ware or to sell;

XIV

‘And as oftentimes he greets you well As any heart can think, Or schoolmasters are in any school Writing with pen and ink.

‘Here is a glove, a glove,’ he says, ‘Lined wi’ the silver-gris; Ye’re bidden to come to Silver Wood To speak with Childe Maurice.

XVI

‘And here is a ring, a ring of gold, Set wi’ the precious stone: He prays you to come to Silver Wood And ask the leave of none.’--

XVII

‘Now peace, now peace, thou little man John, For Christ’s sake I pray thee! For gif my lord heard one o’ thy words Thou must be hangèd hie!’

XVIII

O aye she stampèd with her foot And winkèd with her e’e; But for all that she could say or do Forbidden he would not be.

XIX

‘It’s surely to my bower-woman, It cannot be to me!’-- ‘Nay, I brought it to John Steward’s lady, And I trow that thou art she.’

Out then spake the wily nurse, Wi’ the bairn just on her knee: ‘If this be come from Childe Maurice It’s dear welcome to me.’--

XXI

‘Thou liest, thou liest, thou wily nurse, So loud as I hear thee lie! I brought it to John Steward’s lady, And I trow thou be not she.’

XXII

Then up and rose him John Steward, And an angry man was he: ‘Did I think there was a lord in the world My lady loved but me!’

XXIII

He struck the table wi’ his foot, And kepp’d[344] it with his knee, Till silver cup and ezar[345] dish In flinders they did flee.

XXIV

He call’d unto his horse-keeper, ‘Make ready you my steed!’ So did he to his chamberlain, ‘Go fetch my lady’s weed[346]!’

XXV

O he dress’d himself in the holland smock, [The mantle and the snood], And he cast a lease[347] upon his back, And he rode to Silver Wood.

XXVI

And when he came to Silver Wood, No body saw he there But Childe Maurice upon a block Combing his yellow hair.

XXVII

Childe Maurice sat in Silver Wood, He whistled and he sang: ‘I think I see the woman come That I have lovèd lang.’

XXVIII

But then stood up him Childe Maurice His mother to help from horse: ‘O alas, alas!’ says Childe Maurice, ‘My mother was ne’er so gross!’

XXIX

‘No wonder, no wonder,’ John Steward he said, ‘My lady loved thee well, For the fairest part of my body Is blacker than thy heel.’

XXX

John Steward had a little brown sword That hung low down by his knee; He has cut the head off Childe Maurice And the body put on a tree.

XXXI

And he prick’d the head on his sword’s point, Went singing there beside, And he rode till he came to the castle Whereas his lady ly’ed[348].

XXXII

And when he came to his lady-- Look’d o’er the castle-wall-- He threw the head into her lap, Saying ‘Lady, tak’[349] the ball!’

XXXIII

Says, ‘Dost thou know Childe Maurice’ head, If that thou dost it see? And lap it soft, and kiss it oft, For thou loved’st him better than me.’

XXXIV

But when she look’d on Childe Maurice’ head She ne’er spake words but three: ‘I never bare no child but one, And you have slain him, trulye.’

XXXV

And she has taken the bloody head And kiss’d it, cheek and chin: ‘I was once as full o’ Childe Maurice As the hip is o’ the stane.

XXXVI

‘I got him in my mother’s bower Wi’ mickle sin and shame; I brought him up in the good greenwood Under the shower and rain.’

XXXVII

And she has taken her Childe Maurice And kiss’d him, mouth and chin: ‘O better I love my Childe Maurice Than all my royal kin!’

XXXVIII

‘Woe be to thee!’ John Steward he said, And a woe, woe man was he; ‘For if you had told me he was your son He had never been slain by me.’

XXXIX

Says, ‘Wicked be my merry men all, I gave meat, drink and cloth! But could they not have holden me When I was in all that wrath?’

FOOTNOTES:

[339] kell = hair-net, i. e. give her as many greetings as there are meshes in a net.

[340] leeve = lovely.

[341] silver-gris = a fur of silver-grey.

[342] yode = walked.

[343] blan = stopped, stayed.

[344] kepp’d = caught.

[345] ezar =? _for_ ‘mazer,’ maple.

[346] weed = clothing.

[347] lease = leash, thong.

[348] ly’ed = lived.

[349] tak’ = take, catch.

_48. Brown Adam_

O wha would wish the wind to blau Or the green leaves fa’ therewith? Or wha would wish a lealer love Than Brown Adam the Smith?

But they hae banish’d Brown Adam, Frae father and frae mither; And they hae banish’d Brown Adam, Frae sister and frae brither.

III

And they hae banish’d Brown Adam Frae the flow’r o’ a’ his kin; And he’s biggit[350] a bow’r i’ the good green-wood Between his ladye and him.

O it fell once upon a day Brown Adam he thought long, And he is to the green-wood As fast as he could gang.

He has ta’en his bow his arm over, His sword intill his han’, And he is to the good green-wood To hunt some venison.

O he’s shot up, and he’s shot down The bunting on the breer[351]; And he’s sent it hame to his ladye, Bade her be of good cheer.

VII

O he’s shot up, and he’s shot down, The linnet on the thorn, And sent it hame to his ladye, Said he’d be hame the morn.

VIII

When he cam’ till his lady’s bow’r-door He stood a little forbye, And there he heard a fu’ fause knight Tempting his gay ladye.

O he’s ta’en out a gay gold ring Had cost him mony a poun’; ‘O grant me love for love, ladye, And this sall be your own.’--

‘I lo’e Brown Adam well,’ she says, ‘I wot sae does he me; I wadna gie Brown Adam’s love For nae fause knight I see.’

Out he has ta’en a purse of gold Was a’ fu’ to the string; ‘O grant me love for love, ladye, And a’ this sall be thine.’--

XII

‘I lo’e Brown Adam well,’ she says, ‘An’ I ken sae does he me; An’ I wadna be your light leman For mair nor ye could gie.’

XIII

Then out he drew his lang, lang bran’, And he’s flash’d it in her e’en: ‘Now grant me love for love, lady, Or thro’ you this sall gang.’--

XIV

‘O,’ sighing said that gay ladye, ‘Brown Adam tarries lang!’-- Then up and starts him Brown Adam, Says, ‘I’m just to your hand.’

He’s gar’d him leave his bow, his bow, He’s gar’d him leave his brand; He’s gar’d him leave a better pledge-- Four fingers o’ his right hand.

FOOTNOTES:

[350] biggit = built.

[351] breer = briar.

_49. Jellon Grame_

O Jellon Grame sat in Silverwood, He sharp’d his broadsword lang; And he has call’d his little foot-page An errand for to gang.

‘Win up, my bonny boy,’ he says, ‘As quickly as ye may; For ye maun gang for Lillie Flower Before the break of day.’--

III

The boy has buckled his belt about, And through the green-wood ran; And he came to the ladye’s bower Before the day did dawn.

‘O sleep ye, wake ye, Lillie Flower? The red sun’s on the rain; Ye’re bidden come to Silverwood, But I doubt ye’ll never win hame.’

She hadna ridden a mile, a mile, A mile but barely three, Ere she came to a new-made grave Beneath a green aik tree.

O then up started Jellon Grame Out of a bush thereby; ‘Light down, light down, now, Lillie Flower, For it’s here that ye maun lye.’

VII

She lighted aff her milk-white steed, And kneel’d upon her knee; ‘O mercy, mercy, Jellon Grame, For I’m no prepared to die!

VIII

‘Your bairn, that stirs between my sides, Maun shortly see the light; But to see it weltering in my blood Would be a piteous sight.’--

‘O should I spare your life,’ he says, ‘Until that bairn were born, Full weel I ken your auld father Would hang me on the morn.’--

‘O spare my life now, Jellon Grame! My father ye needna dread! I’ll keep my babe in gude green-wood, Or wi’ it I’ll beg my bread.’--

He took nae pity on Lillie Flower, Though she for life did pray; But pierced her through the fair body As at his feet she lay.

XII

He felt nae pity for Lillie Flower, Where she was lying dead; But he felt some for the bonny bairn That lay weltering in her bluid.

XIII

Up has he ta’en that bonny boy, Given him to nurses nine; Three to sleep, and three to wake, And three to go between.

XIV

And he bred up that bonny boy, Call’d him his sister’s son; And he thought nae eye could ever see The deed that had been done.

O so it fell upon a day, When hunting they might be, They rested them in Silverwood, Beneath that green aik tree.

XVI

And many were the green-wood flowers Upon that grave that grew, And marvell’d much that bonny boy To see their lovely hue.

XVII

‘What’s paler than the primrose wan? What’s redder than the rose? What’s fairer than the lilye flower On this wee know[352] that grows?’--

XVIII

O out and answer’d Jellon Grame, And he spak hastilie: ‘Your mother was a fairer flower, And lies beneath this tree.

XIX

‘More pale she was, when she sought my grace, Than primrose pale and wan; And redder than rose her ruddy heart’s blood, That down my broadsword ran.’--

Wi’ that the boy has bent his bow, It was baith stout and lang; And thro’ and thro’ him, Jellon Grame, He gar’d an arrow gang.

XXI

Says,--‘Lie ye there, now, Jellon Grame! My malisoun gang you wi’! The place that my mother lies buried in Is far too good for thee.’

FOOTNOTES:

[352] wee know = little hillock.

_50. Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard_

_O wow for day! And, dear, gin it were day! Gin it were day, and I were away-- For I ha’ na lang time to stay._

As it fell on one holy-day, As many be in the year, When young men and maids together did go Their matins and mass to hear,

Little Musgrave came to the church-door-- The priest was at private mass-- But he had more mind of the fair women Than he had of Our Lady’s grace.

III

The one of them was clad in green, Another was clad in pall[353], And then came in my Lord Barnard’s wife, The fairest amongst them all.

She cast an eye on Little Musgrave As bright as the summer sun; And then bethought him Little Musgrave, ‘This lady’s heart have I won.’

Quoth she, ‘I have loved thee, Little Musgrave, Full long and many a day.’-- ‘So have I loved you, fair ladye, Yet never word durst I say.’--

‘But I have a bower at Bucklesfordberry, Full daintily it is dight; If thou’lt wend thither, thou Little Musgrave, Thou’s lig[354] in my arms all night.’

VII

Quoth he, ‘I thank thee, fair ladye, This kindness thou showest to me; And whether it be to my weal or woe This night I will lodge with thee.’

VIII

With that beheard a little tiny page, By his lady’s coach as he ran. Says, ‘Although I am my lady’s foot-page, Yet I am Lord Barnard’s man.’

Then he’s cast off his hose and shoon, Set down his feet and ran, And where the bridges were broken down He bent his bow and swam.

‘Awake! awake! thou Lord Barnard, As thou art a man of life! Little Musgrave is at Bucklesfordberry Along with thy own wedded wife.’--

‘If this be true, thou little tiny page, This thing thou tellest to me, Then all the land in Bucklesfordberry I freely will give to thee.

XII

‘But if it be a lie, thou little tiny page, This thing thou tellest to me, On the highest tree in Bucklesfordberry Then hangèd shall thou be.’

XIII

He callèd up his merry men all: ‘Come saddle me my steed; This night must I to Bucklesfordberry, For I never had greater need.’

XIV

But some they whistled, and some they sung, And some they thus could say, Whenever Lord Barnard’s horn it blew: _‘Away, Musgrave, away!..._

‘Methinks I hear the threstle cock, Methinks I hear the jay; Methinks I hear Lord Barnard’s horn, _Away, Musgrave, away!_’--

XVI

‘Lie still, lie still, thou little Musgrave, And huggle me from the cold; ’Tis nothing but a shepherd’s boy A-driving his sheep to the fold.’

XVII

By this, Lord Barnard came to his door And lighted a stone upon; And he’s pull’d out three silver keys, And open’d the doors each one.

XVIII

He lifted up the coverlet, He lifted up the sheet: ‘Dost thou like my bed, Little Musgrave? Dost thou find my lady sweet?’--

XIX

‘I find her sweet,’ quoth Little Musgrave, ‘The more ’tis to my pain; I would gladly give three hundred pounds That I were on yonder plain.’--

‘Arise, arise, thou Little Musgrave, And put thy clothès on; It shall ne’er be said in my country I have kill’d a naked man.

XXI

‘I have two swords in one scabbard, They are both sharp and clear; Take you the best, and I the worst, We’ll end the matter here.’

XXII

The first stroke Little Musgrave struck, He hurt Lord Barnard sore; The next stroke that Lord Barnard struck, Little Musgrave ne’er struck more.

XXIII

With that bespake this fair lady, In bed where as she lay: ‘Although thou’rt dead, thou Little Musgrave, Yet I for thee will pray.

XXIV

‘And wish well to thy soul will I So long as I have life; So will I not for thee, Barnard, Although I’m thy wedded wife.’

XXV

He cut her paps from off her breast; Great pity it was to see That some drops of this lady’s heart’s blood Ran trickling down her knee.

XXVI

‘Woe worth you, woe worth, my merry men all, You were ne’er born for my good! Why did you not offer to stay my hand When you saw me wax so wood[355]?

XXVII

‘For I have slain the fairest lady That ever wore woman’s weed, Soe I have slain the fairest lady That ever did woman’s deed.

XXVIII

‘A grave, a grave,’ Lord Barnard cried, ‘To put these lovers in! But lay my lady on the upper hand, For she comes of the nobler kin.’

FOOTNOTES:

[353] pall = fine cloth.

[354] lig = lie.

[355] wood = mad, fierce.

_51. Lord Ingram and Childe Vyet_

Lord Ingram and Childe Vyet Were both born in one hall; Laid both their hearts on one lady; The worse did them befall.

Lord Ingram woo’d Lady Maisry From father and from mother; Lord Ingram woo’d Lady Maisry From sister and from brother;

III

Lord Ingram woo’d Lady Maisry With leave of all her kin; And every one gave full consent, But she said ‘no’ to him.

Now it fell out, upon a day She was dressing of her head, That in did come her father dear, Wearing the gold so red.

‘Get up now, Lady Maisry, Put on your wedding-gown; For Lord Ingram he will be here, Your wedding must be done.’--

‘I’d rather be Childe Vyet’s wife, The white fish for to sell, Before I were Lord Ingram’s wife, To wear the silk so well.

VII

‘I’d rather be Childe Vyet’s wife, With him to beg my bread, Before I were Lord Ingram’s wife, To wear the gold so red....

VIII

‘O where will I get a bonny boy, Will win gold to his fee, And will run unto Childe Vyet With this letter from me?’--

‘O here I am, the boy,’ says one, ‘Will win gold to my fee, And carry away any letter To Childe Vyet from thee.’

The first line that Childe Vyet read, A grievèd man was he; The next line that Childe Vyet read, A tear blinded his e’e. ‘I wonder what ails my one brother, He’ll not let my love be!

‘But I’ll send to my brother’s bridal-- The gammons o’ the swine-- With four and twenty buck and roe, And ten tun of the wine; And bid my love be blithe and glad, And I will follow syne.’

XII

There was no groom in that castle But got a gown of green; And all was blithe, and all was glad, But Lady Maisry was neen[356].

XIII

There was no cook in that kitchen But got a gown of grey; And all was blithe, and all was glad, But Lady Maisry was wae.

XIV

O sweetly play’d the merry organs Within her mother’s bower; But dumb stood Lady Maisry, And let the tears down pour.

O sweetly play’d the harp so fine Within her father’s hall; But still stood Lady Maisry, And let the tears down fall.

XVI

’Tween Mary Kirk and the castle Was all spread o’er with garl[357], To keep Lady Maisry and her maidens From tramping on the marl.

XVII

From Mary Kirk to the castle Was spread a cloth of gold, To keep Lady Maisry and her maidens From treading upon the mould.

XVIII

When mass was sung, and bells were rung, And all men bound for bed, Lord Ingram and Lady Maisry In one bed they were laid.

XIX

When they were laid into one bed, It was both soft and warm; He laid his hand over her side, Says, ‘I think you are with bairn.’--

‘I told you once, so did I twice, When ye came for my wooer, That Childe Vyet, your one brother, One night lay in my bower.

XXI

‘I told you twice, I told you thrice, Ere ye came me to wed, That Childe Vyet, your one brother, One night lay in my bed.’--

XXII

‘O father your bairn on me, Maisry, And on no other man; And I’ll gie him to his dowry Full fifty ploughs of land.’--

XXIII

‘I will not father my bairn on you, Nor on no wrongeous man, Though ye’d give him to his dowry Five thousand ploughs of land.’

XXIV

He has taken out his trusty sword And laid it between them tway; Says, ‘Lie you there, you ill woman, A maid for me till day.’

XXV

Then in it came him Childe Vyet, Shed back his yellow hair, And gave Lord Ingram to the heart A deep wound and a sair.

XXVI

Then up did start him Lord Ingram Shed back his coal-black hair, And gave Childe Vyet to the heart A deep wound and a sair.

XXVII

There was no pity for those two lords, In bower where they lay slain; But all was for Lady Maisry, In bower where she went brain[358].

XXVIII

Says, ‘If I have been an ill woman, Alas, and woe is me! And if I have been an ill woman, A good woman I’ll be.

XXIX

‘Ye’ll take from me my silk attire, Bring me a palmer’s weed; And for their sakes the world thoro’ I’ll gang and beg my bread.

XXX

‘If I gang a step for Childe Vyet, For Lord Ingram I’ll gang three; All for the honour that he paid At Mary Kirk to me.’

FOOTNOTES:

[356] neen = none, not.

[357] garl =? gravel.

[358] brain = mad.

_52. Fair Janet_

‘Ye maun gang to your father, Janet, Ye maun gang to him sune; Ye maun gang to your father, Janet, In case that his days are dune.’

Janet’s awa’ to her father As fast as she could hie: ‘O what’s your will wi’ me, father? O what’s your will wi’ me?’--

III

‘My will wi’ you, Fair Janet,’ he said, ‘It is both bed and board; Some say that ye love Sweet Willie, But ye maun wed a French lord.’

Janet’s awa to her chamber As fast as she could go; Wha’s the first ane that tappèd there, But Sweet Willie her jo[359]?

‘O we maun part this love, Willie, That has been lang between; There’s a French lord coming o’er the sea To wed me wi’ a ring.’--

‘If we maun part this love, Janet, It causeth mickle woe; If we maun part this love, Janet, It makes me in mourning go.’--

VII

‘But ye maun gang to your three sisters, Meg, Marion and Jean; Tell them to come to Fair Janet, In case that her days are dune.’

VIII

Willie’s awa’ to his three sisters, Meg, Marion and Jean: ‘O haste and gang to Fair Janet, I fear that her days are dune!’

Some drew to them their silken hose, Some drew to them their shoon, Some drew to them their silk manteils, Their coverings to put on; And they’re awa’ to Fair Janet By the hie light o’ the moon....

‘O I have borne this babe, Willie, Wi’ mickle toil and pain; Take hame, take hame your babe, Willie, For nurse I dare be nane.’

He’s ta’en his young son in his arms And kiss’d him cheek and chin, And he’s awa’ to his mother’s bower By the hie light o’ the moon.

XII

‘O open, open, mother!’ he says, ‘O open, and let me in! The rain rains on my yellow hair And the dew drops o’er my chin; And I hae my young son in my arms,-- I fear that his days are dune.’

XIII

Then with her fingers long and sma’ She lifted up the pin, And with her arms sae long and sma’ Received the baby in.

XIV

‘Gae back, gae back now, Sweet Willie, And comfort your fair ladye; For where ye had but ae nourice Your young son shall hae three.’

Willie he was scarce awa’ And Janet put to bed, When in and came her father dear: ‘Mak’ haste, and busk[360] the bride!’--

XVI

‘There’s a sair pain in my head, father, There’s a sair pain in my side; And ill, O ill I am, father, This day for to be a bride!’--

XVII

‘O ye maun busk this bonny bride, And put a gay mantle on; For she shall wed this auld French lord, Gin she should die this morn.’

XVIII

Some put on the gay green robes, And some put on the brown; But Janet put on the scarlet robes, Shone foremost thro’ the town.

XIX

And some they mounted the black steed, And some mounted the brown; But Janet mounted the milk-white steed, Rode foremost thro’ the town.

‘O wha will guide your horse, Janet? O wha will guide him best?’-- ‘O wha but Willie, my true-love? He kens I love him best.’

XXI

And when they came to Mary’s kirk To tie the holy ban’, Fair Janet’s colour gaed and came, And her cheek look’d pale and wan.

XXII

When dinner it was past and done, And dancing to begin, ‘O we’ll go take the bride’s maidens, And we’ll go fill the ring.’

XXIII

O ben then came the auld French lord, Saying, ‘Bride, will ye dance wi’ me?’-- ‘Awa’, awa’, ye auld French lord! Your face I downa see.’

XXIV

O ben then came Sweet Willie, He came with ane advance: ‘O I’ll go tak’ the bride’s maidens, And we’ll go tak’ a dance.’--

XXV

‘I’ve seen ither days wi’ you, Willie, And so has mony mae[361], Ye would hae danced wi’ me mysel’, Let a’ my maidens gae.’

XXVI

O ben now came Sweet Willie, Saying, ‘Bride, will ye dance wi’ me?’-- ‘Ay, by my sooth, and that I will Gin my back should break in three.’

XXVII

She hadna danced her o’er the floor, She hadna turn’d but thrice, When she fell doun at Willie’s feet, And up did never rise.

XXVIII

Willie’s ta’en the key of his coffer And gi’en it to his man: ‘Gae hame, and tell my mother dear My horse he has me slain; And bid her be kind to my young son, For father he has nane.’

FOOTNOTES:

[359] jo = sweetheart.

[360] busk = array.

[361] mae = more.

_53. Old Robin of Portingale_

God! let never soe old a man Marry soe young a wife As did old Robin of Portingale! He may rue all the days of his life.

For the Mayor’s daughter of Lin, God wot, He chose her to his wife, And thought to have lived in quietnesse With her all the dayes of his life.

III

They had not in their wed-bed laid, Scarcely were both on sleepe, But up she rose, and forth she goes To Sir Gyles, and fast can weepe.

Saies, ‘Sleepe you, wake you, faire Sir Gyles? Or be you not within? [Or hear you not your true love That tirleth at the pin?’]--

‘But I am waking, sweete,’ he said, ‘Lady, what is your will?’-- I have unbethought[362] me of a wile How my wed lord we shall spill.

‘Four and twenty knights,’ she sayes, ‘That dwells about this towne, E’en four and twenty of my next cozens Will help to ding[363] him downe.’

VII

With that beheard his little foot-page, Was watering his master’s steed; Soe [sore a hearing it was to him] His very heart did bleed.

VIII

He mournèd, sikt[364], and wept full sore; I swear by the Holy Rood The teares he for his master wept Were blent water and bloude.

With that beheard his dear mastèr As he in his garden sate; Sayes, ‘Ever alack, my little page, What causes thee to weepe?

‘Hath any one done to thee wronge, Any of thy fellowes here? Or is any of thy good friends dead, What makes thee shed such teares?

‘Or if it be my head-cookes-man Griev’d againe[365] he shall be, Nor noe man within my house Shall doe wrong unto thee.’--

XII

‘But it is not your head-cookes-man, Nor none of his degree; But or tomorrow, ere it be noone You are deemèd[366] to die.

XIII

‘And of that thanke your head-steward, And, after, your ladie fair.’-- ‘If it be true, my little foot-page, Of my land I’ll make thee heir.’--

XIV

‘If it be not true, my deare master, God let me never thye[367].’-- ‘If it be not true, thou little foot-page, A dead corse shalt thou be.’

He callèd down his head-cookes-man In kitchen supper to dress; ‘All and anon, my deere master! Anon at your request!’--

XVI

[‘Let supper be drest, and of the best Let it preparèd be] And call you downe my faire lady, This night to supp with mee.’

XVII

And downe then came that fair lady, ’Was clad all in purple and palle[368]; The rings that were upon her fingers Cast light thorrow the hall.

XVIII

‘What is your will, my owne wed lord, What is your will with mee?’-- ‘’Tis I am sicke, fayre lady, Sore sicke and like to dye.’--

XIX

‘But an you be sicke, my owne wed lord, Soe sore it grieveth mee; But my five maidens and my selfe [Will bedd you presentlye].

‘And at the waking of your first sleepe You shall have a hott drinke made, And at the waking of your next sleepe Your sorrowes will have a slake.’

XXI

He put a silk cote on his backe ’Was thirteen inches folde, And put a steele cap upon his head ’Was gilded with good red gold.

XXII

And he layd a bright browne sword by his side, And another at his feete, And full well knew Old Robin then Whether he shold wake or sleepe.

XXIII

And about the middle time of the night Came twenty-four Knights in; Sir Gyles he was the foremost man, Soe well he knew that ginne[369].

XXIV

Old Robin with a bright browne sword Sir Gyles’ head he did winne, Soe did he all those twenty-four, Ne’er a one went quicke[370] out [agen];

XXV

None but one little 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 one].

XXVI

Upp then came that ladie light, With torches burning bright; Shee thought to have brought Sir Gyles a drinke, But shee found her owne wed Knight.

XXVII

And the first thing that shee stumbled upon Was of Sir Gyles his foote; Sayes, ‘Ever alacke, and woe is me, Here lies my sweet hart-roote[371]!’

XXVIII

And the second thing shee stumbled upon Was of Sir Gyles his head; Sayes, ‘Ever alacke, and woe is me, Here lyes my true-love deade!’

XXIX

He cut the papps beside her brest, And bade her wish her will; And he cutt the eares beside her heade, And bade her wish on still.

XXX

‘Mickle is the men’s blood I have spent To doe thee and me some good’; Sayes, ‘Ever alacke, my fayre lady, I thinke that I was woode[372]!’

XXXI

And he shope[373] the cross on his right sho’lder Of the white flesh and the redd, And he went him into the Holy Land, Wheras Christ was quicke and deade.

FOOTNOTES:

[362] unbethought = bethought.

[363] ding = smite.

[364] sikt = sighed.

[365] againe = in return.

[366] deemèd = doomed.

[367] thye = thrive.

[368] palle = fine cloth.

[369] ginne = gin, contrivance, here a door-latch.

[370] quicke = alive.

[371] hart-roote = heart-root, dear one.

[372] woode = mad.

[373] shope = shaped, made.

_54. Lord Thomas and Fair Annet_

Lord Thomas and Fair Annet Sat all day on a hill; When night was come, and sun was set, They had not talk’d their fill.

Lord Thomas said a word in jest, Fair Annet took it ill: ‘I’ll never wed a tocherless[374] maid Against my ain friends’ will.’--

III

‘Gif ye’ll not wed a tocherless wife, A wife will ne’er wed ye: Fare ye well now, Lord Thomas, It’s fare ye well a wee.’

O Annet she’s gane till her bower, Lord Thomas down the den; And he’s come till his mither’s bower By the lee[375] light o’ the moon.

‘O sleep ye, wake ye, mither?’ he says, ‘Or are ye the bower within?’-- ‘I sleep right aft, I wake right aft; What want ye with me, son?

‘Where have ye been a’ night, Thomas? O wow, ye’ve tarried long!’-- ‘I have been courtin’ Fair Annet, And she is frae me gone.

VII

‘O rede[376], O rede, mither,’ he says, ‘A gude rede gie to me: O sall I tak’ the nut-brown bride, And let Fair Annet be?’--

VIII

‘The nut-brown bride has gold and gear, Fair Annet she’s got nane; And the little beauty Fair Annet has O it will soon be gane.

‘It’s an’ ye wed the nut-brown bride, I’ll heap gold wi’ my hand; But an’ ye wed her, Fair Annet, I’ll straik[377] it wi’ a wand.

‘The nut-brown bride has sheep and kye, Fair Annet she’s got nane; Son Thomas, for my benison Bring ye the brown bride hame.’--

‘But alas, alas!’ says Lord Thomas, ‘O fair is Annet’s face!’-- ‘But what matter for that, son Thomas? She has nae ither grace.’--

XII

‘Alas, alas!’ says Lord Thomas, ‘But white is Annet’s hand!’-- ‘What matter for that, son Thomas? She has not a fur’[378] o’ land.’--

XIII

‘Sheep will die in cots, mither, And owsen[379] die in byre; And what is warldis wealth to me, An’ I getna my heart’s desire?’

XIV

And he has till his sister gane: ‘Now, sister, rede ye me; O sall I marry the nut-brown bride And set Fair Annet free?’--

‘I’se rede ye tak’ Fair Annet, Thomas, And let the brown bride alane, Lest ye should sigh and say Alas! What is this we brought hame?’--

XVI

‘No, I will tak’ my mither’s counsel, And marry me out of hand; And I will tak’ the nut-brown bride; Fair Annet may leave the land.’

XVII

Up then rose Fair Annet’s father Twa hours or it were day, And he is gone to Fair Annet, To the bower wherein she lay.

XVIII

‘Rise up, rise up, Fair Annet,’ he says, ‘Put on your silken sheen; Ye are bidden come to St. Mary’s Kirk, To see a rich weddin’.’...

XIX

‘My maids, gae to my dressing-room And dress to me my hair; Where’er ye laid a plait before See ye lay ten times mair.

‘My maids gae to my dressing-room And dress to me my smock, The one half is o’ the holland fine, The other o’ needle-work.’

XXI

At yae[380] tett[381] o’ her horse’s mane Was tied a silver bell, And yae tift[382] o’ the norland wind It gar’d them a’ to knell.

XXII

Four and twenty gay good knights Rade by Fair Annet’s side, And four and twenty fair ladies As gin she had been a bride.

XXIII

And when she came to Mary’s Kirk, She shimmer’d like the sun; The belt that was about her waist Was a’ wi’ pearls bedone[383].

XXIV

And when she came to Mary’s Kirk, And sat down in the deas[384], The cleiding[385] that Fair Annet had on Enlighten’d a’ that place.

XXV

She sat her by the nut-brown bride, And her e’en they were sae clear, Lord Thomas he clean forgat the bride When Fair Annet drew near.

XXVI

He had a rose into his hand, He gave it kisses three, And reaching by the nut-brown bride, Laid it on Annet’s knee.

XXVII

‘O wha is this, my father dear, Blinks in Lord Thomas’s e’e?’-- ‘O this Lord Thomas’s first true-love Before he lovèd thee.’

XXVIII

Up then spake the nut-brown bride-- She spake wi’ mickle spite: ‘And where gat ye the rose-water That washes thy face so white?’--

XXIX

‘O I did get my rose-water Where ye will ne’er get nane, For I did get that very rose-water Into my mither’s wame[386].’

XXX

The bride she drew a long bodkin Frae out her gay head-gear, And strake Fair Annet to the heart, That word spak’ never mair.

XXXI

‘O Christ thee save!’ Lord Thomas he said, ‘Methinks thou look’st wondrous wan; Thou was used to look with as fresh a colour As ever the sun shined on.’

XXXII

‘O art thou blind, Lord Thomas?’ she said, ‘Or canst thou not very well see? Or dost thou not see my own heart’s blood Runs trickling down my knee?’

XXXIII

Lord Thomas he saw Fair Annet was pale, And marvellèd what mote be; But when he saw her dear heart’s blood, All wood-wroth[387] waxèd he.

XXXIV

He drew his dagger frae his side, That was so sharp and meet, And drave it into the nut-brown bride, That fell dead at his feet.

XXXV

‘Now stay for me, dear Annet,’ he said, ‘Now stay, my dear!’ he cried; Then strake the dagger untill his heart, And fell dead by her side.

FOOTNOTES:

[374] tocherless = without a dowry.

[375] lee = calm, pleasant.

[376] rede = counsel.

[377] straik = stroke, as one might smooth over the top of a bushel of corn to make it bare measure.

[378] fur’ = furrow.

[379] owsen = oxen.

[380] yae = each.

[381] tett = tuft.

[382] tift = puff, whiff.

[383] bedone = adorned.

[384] deas = daïs, pew.

[385] cleiding = clothing.

[386] wame = womb.

[387] wood-wroth = mad with rage.

_55. Rose the Red and White Lily_

O Rose the Red and White Lilly, Their mother dear was dead, And their father married an ill woman Wish’d them twa little gude.

Yet she had twa as fu’ fair sons As e’er brake manis bread; And Bold Arthur he lo’ed her White Lilly And Brown Robin Rose the Red.

III

O they hae biggit a bigly[388] tow’r, And strawn it o’er wi’ sand; There was mair mirth i’ these ladies’ bow’r Than in a’ their father’s land.

But out and spake their step-mither, At the stair-foot stood she: ‘I’m plaguit wi’ your troublesome noise! What makes[389] your melodie?

‘O Rose the Red, ye sing too loud, White Lilly, your voice is strang: But gin I live and bruik[390] my life, I’ll gar ye change your sang.’

She’s call’d her son, Brown Robin, ‘Come hither, my son, to me; It fears me sair, my eldest son, That ye maun sail the sea.’--

VII

‘Gin it fear you sair, my mither dear, Your bidding I maun dee; But be never warse to Rose the Red Than ye ha’ been to me.’--

VIII

‘O haud your tongue, my eldest son, For sma’ sall be her part; You’ll ne’er get kiss o’ her comely mouth, Tho’ you sh’uld break your heart.’

She’s call’d her son, Bold Arthur: ‘Come hither, my son, to me; It fears me sair, my youngest son, That ye maun sail the sea.’--

‘Gin it fear you sair, my mither dear, Your bidding I maun dee; But be never warse to White Lilly Than ye ha’ been to me.’--

‘O haud your tongue, my yongest son, For sma’ sall be her part; You’ll ne’er get kiss o’ White Lilly’s mouth Tho’ it break your very heart.’

XII

When Rose the Red and White Lilly Saw their twa loves were gane, Then stoppit ha’ they their loud, loud sang For and the still mournin’: And their step-mither stood forbye, To hear the maiden’s mane[391].

XIII

Then out it spake her White Lilly: ‘My sister, we’ll be gane; Why should we stay in Burnèsdale To waste our youth in pain?’

XIV

Then cuttit ha’ they their green clothing A little below their knee, And sae ha’ they their yellow hair A little abune their bree[392]; And they’re do’en them to haly chapel, Was christen’d by Our Ladye.

There ha’ they changed their ain twa names, Sae far frae ony town; And the tane o’ them hight[393] Sweet Willy, And the tither Roge the Roun[394].

XVI

Between this twa a vow was made, And they sware it to fulfil; That at three blasts o’ a bugle-horn She’d come her sister till.

XVII

Now Sweet Willy’s gane to the Kingis court, Her true-love there to see, And Roge the Roun to good green-wood, Brown Robin’s man to be.

XVIII

As it fell out upon a day They a’ did put the stane, Fu’ seven feet ayont them a’ She gar’d the puttin’-stane gang.

XIX

She lean’d her back against an oak, And ga’e a loud Ohone! Then out it spake him Brown Robin, ‘But that’s a woman’s moan!’

‘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.’

XXI

‘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 bow’r whaever sae likes Will find a lady there.’

XXII

About the tenth hour of the night The lady’s bow’r-door was broken; And ere the first hour of the night The bonny knave-bairn[395] was gotten.

XXIII

When days were gane, and months were run, Rose the Red took travailing; And sair she cried for a bow’r-woman, Her pine[396] to wait upon.

XXIV

Then out it spake him Brown Robin: ‘Now what needs a’ this din? For what cou’d any woman do But I cou’d do the same?’--

XXV

‘It was never my mither’s fashion, Nor sall it e’er be mine, That belted Knights shou’d e’er stand by Where ladies dreed[397] their pine.

XXVI

‘But tak’ ye up my bugle-horn, And blaw three blasts for me; I’ve a brither in the Kingis court Will come me quickly ti’.’--

XXVII

‘O gin ye hae a brither on earth That ye love better nor me, Ye blaw the horn yoursel’,’ he says, ‘For ae blast I’ll not gie.’

XXVIII

She set the horn untill her mouth, And blawn three blasts sae shrill; Sweet Willy heard i’ the Kingis court, And came her quickly till....

XXIX

[Word is to the kitchen gane, And word is to the ha’, Bold Arthur’s lost his little foot-page, To the green-wood stown awa’.]

XXX

And word has gane to the Kingis court, To the King himsel’ [at dine] ‘Now, by my fay,’ the King can say, [‘Sweet Willy we maun find.’]

XXXI

‘Bring me my steed,’ then cry’d the King, ‘My bow and arrows keen; I’ll ride mysel’ to good green-wood An’ see what’s to be seen.’

XXXII

‘An’t please your grace,’ says Bold Arthur, ‘My liege I’ll gang you wi’, An’ try to find my little foot-page That’s stray’d awa’ frae me.’

XXXIII

O they have hunted in good green-wood The back but and the rae. And they’ve drawn near Brown Robin’s bow’r About the close of day.

XXXIV

Then out it spak’ the King in haste, Says, ‘Arthur, look an’ see Gin that be no your little foot-page That leans against yon tree?’

XXXV

Bold Arthur took his bugle-horn, And blew a blast sae shrill, Sweet Willy started at the sound And ran him quickly till.

XXXVI

‘O wanted ye your meat, Willy? Or wanted ye your fee? Or get ye ever an angry word, That ye ran awa’ frae me?’--

XXXVII

‘I wanted nought, my master dear; To me ye aye was good; I came but to see my ae brither That wons[398] in this green-wood.’

XXXVIII

Then out and spak’ the King again, Says, ‘Bonny boy, tell to me Who lives into yon bigly bow’r, Stands by yon green oak-tree?’

XXXIX

‘O pardon me,’ says Sweet Willy, ‘My liege, I daurna tell; And I pray you go no near that bow’r, For fear they do you fell[399].’--

‘O haud your tongue, my bonny boy. For I winna be said nay; But I will gang that bow’r within, Betide me weal or wae.’

XLI

They’ve lighted off their milk-white steeds, And saftly enter’d in; And then they saw her, Rose the Red, Nursing her bonny young son.

XLII

‘Now, by the rood,’ the King could say, ‘This is a comely sight; I trow, instead of a forrester, This is a lady bright!’

XLIII

Then out it spake White Lilly And fell down on her knee: ‘O pardon us, my gracious liege, An’ our story I’ll tell to thee.

XLIV

‘Our father was a wealthy lord, That wonn’d in Barnèsdale; But we had a wicked step-mother, That wrought us mickle bale[400].

XLV

‘Yet she had twa as fu’ fair sons As ever the sun did see; An’ the tane o’ them lo’ed my sister dear, An’ the tother said he lo’ed me.’

XLVI

Then out and spak’ him Bold Arthur, As by the King he stood, ‘Now, this should be my White Lilly, An’ that should be Rose the Red!’

XLVII

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.

XLVIII

The King has ta’en him by the hand And bade him naething dread; Says, ‘Ye maun leave the good green-wood, Come to the court wi’ speed.’

XLIX

Then up he took Brown Robin’s son, And set him on his knee; Says, ‘Gin ye live to wield a bran’, My bowman ye sall be.’

The King he sent for robes o’ green, And girdles o’ shining gold; He gart the ladies be array’d Most comely to behold.

They’ve doen them unto Mary Kirk, And there gat fair weddìng, And whan the news spread o’er the lan’, For joy the bells did ring.

LII

Then out it spak’ her Rose the Red, And a hearty laugh laugh’d she; ‘I wonder what would our step-dame say, Gin she this sight did see!’

FOOTNOTES:

[388] bigly = commodious, habitable.

[389] makes = means.

[390] bruik = brook enjoy.

[391] mane = moan.

[392] abune their bree = above their brows.

[393] hight = was called.

[394] Roun = roan, red.

[395] knave-bairn = man-child.

[396] pine = pain.

[397] dreed = endured.

[398] wons = dwells.

[399] fell = kill.

[400] bale = harm.

_56. Leesome Brand_

_or, The Sheath and the Knife_

‘There is a feast in your father’s house, _The broom blooms bonnie and sae it is fair_-- It becomes you and me to be very douce[401], _And we’ll never gang down to the broom nae mair.’_

But it is talk’d all over [the land], ‘Lady Marget’s plighted to Leesome Brand.’

III

He’s done him to her father’s stable And tane twa steeds baith wicht[402] and able:

Ane for him, and another for her To carry them baith wi’ might and virr[403].

When they had ridden about six mile, Lady Marget then began to fail.

‘O gin I had but a gude midwife Here this day to save my life!

VII

‘Ye’ll take your arrow and your bow And ye will hunt the deer and roe.

VIII

‘But be sure ye touch not the milk-white hynde, For she is o’ the woman-kind.’

He took sic pleasure in deer and rae Till he forgot his ladye gay.

Till by it came that milk-white hynde, And then he mind on his ladye syne.

He heard her gie a loud, loud cry, He shot his bow, and he let her lie.

XII

When he saw she was lying still, He threw down his bow and came running her till[404];

XIII

But he found his ladye lying dead, Likewise her young son at her head.

XIV

He’s houkit[405] a grave, long, large and wide, He’s buried his auld[406] son doun by her side.

It was nae wonder his heart was sair When he shool’d[407] the mools[408] on her yellow hair.

XVI

His mother lay owre her castle wa’; There was music and minstrels and dancing and a’.

XVII

[She said as she look’d owre] dale and down, ‘My son comes merrilie to the toun.’--

XVIII

‘Seek nae minstrels to play in your room, Your son comes sorry to the toun.

XIX

‘O I hae lost my gowden knife; I rather had lost my ain sweet life!

‘And I hae lost a far better thing, The gilded sheath that it was in.’--

XXI

‘Are there nae gowdsmiths here in Fife Can make to you anither knife?

XXII

‘Are there nae sheath-makers in the land Can make a sheath to Leesome Brand?’--

XXIII

‘There are nae gowdsmiths here in Fife Can make to me sic a gowden knife;

XXIV

‘Nor nae sheath-makers in the land Can make to me sic a sheath again.

XXV

‘For I’ve lost my lady I loved sae dear, _The broom blooms bonnie and sae it is fair_-- Likewise the son she did me bear, _And we’ll never gang doun to the broom nae mair._’

FOOTNOTES:

[401] douce = quiet.

[402] wicht = sturdy.

[403] virr = vigour.

[404] her till = to her.

[405] houkit = dug.

[406] auld = eldest, first-born.

[407] shool’d = shovelled.

[408] mools = mould.

_57. Babylon_

_or, The Bonnie Banks o’ Fordie_

There where three ladies live in a bower-- _Eh, wow, bonnie!_ And they went out to pull a flower _On the bonnie banks o’ Fordie._

They hadna pu’ed a flower but ane, When up started to them a banisht man.

III

He’s ta’en the first sister by her hand, And he’s turn’d her round and made her stand.

‘It’s whether will ye be a rank robber’s wife, Or will ye die by my wee pen-knife?’

‘It’s I’ll not be a rank robber’s wife, But I’ll rather die by your wee pen-knife.’

He’s killed this may, and he’s laid her by, For to bear the red rose company.

VII

He’s ta’en the second ane by the hand, And he’s turn’d her round and made her stand.

VIII

‘It’s whether will ye be a rank robber’s wife, Or will ye die by my wee pen-knife?’

‘It’s I’ll not be a rank robber’s wife, But I’ll rather die by your wee pen-knife.’

He’s killed this may, and he’s laid her by, For to bear the red rose company.

He’s taken the youngest ane by the hand, And he’s turn’d her round and made her stand.

XII

Says, ‘Will ye be a rank robber’s wife, Or will ye die by my wee pen-knife?’

XIII

‘It’s I’ll not be a rank robber’s wife, Nor will I die by your wee pen-knife.

XIV

‘For in this wood a brother I hae; And gin ye kill me, it’s he’ll kill thee.’

‘What’s thy brother’s name? come tell to me.’ ‘My brother’s name is Baby Lon.’

XVI

‘O sister, sister, what have I done! O have I done this ill to thee!

XVII

‘O since I’ve done this evil deed, Good sall never be my meed.’

XVIII

He’s taken out his wee pen-knife, _Eh, wow, bonnie!_ And he’s twyn’d[409] himsel’ o’ his ain sweet life _On the bonnie banks o’ Fordie_.

FOOTNOTES:

[409] twyned = taken away, bereaved.

_58. Prince Robert_

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.

‘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.’

III

She has call’d upon her waiting-maid, To fill her a glass of wine; She has called upon her fause steward, To put rank poison in.

She his put it to her roudès[410] lip, And to her roudès chin; She has put it to her fause, fause mouth, But the never a drop gaed in.

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.

‘O ye hae poison’d 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.

VII

‘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?’

VIII

Then up and spake a little boy, That wad win hose and shoon, ‘O I’ll away to Darlinton, And bid Fair Eleanor come.’

O he has run to Darlinton, And tirlèd at the pin; And wha was sae ready as Eleanor’s sel’ To let the bonny boy in?

‘Your gude-mother’s made ye a rare dinour, She’s made it baith gude and fine; Your gude-mother’s made ye a gay dinour, And ye maun come till her and dine.’

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.

XII

But when she came to Sillertoun town, And into Sillertoun ha’, The torches were burning, the ladies were mourning, And they were weeping a’.

XIII

‘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.’--

XIV

‘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.

‘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.’

XVI

‘I want nane o’ his gowd, I want nane o’ his gear, I want nae land frae thee; But I’ll hae the rings that’s on his finger, For them he did promise to me.’

XVII

‘Ye’se na get the rings that’s on his finger, Ye’se na get them frae me; Ye’se na get the rings that’s on his finger, An’ your heart suld burst in three.’

XVIII

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.

FOOTNOTES:

[410] roudès = hag-like.

_59. Young Andrew_

As I was cast in my first sleepe, A dreadfull draught[411] in my mind I drew, For I was dreamèd of a young man, Some men callèd him Yonge Andrew.

The moone shone bright, and it cast a fayre light: ‘Welcome,’ says she, ‘my honey, my sweete! For I have loved thee this seven long yeare, And our chance it was we co’ld never meete’

III

Then he tooke her in his armès two And kissèd her both cheeke and chin, And twise or thrise he kissèd this may[412] Before they two did part in twin.

‘Faire maid I cannot do as I wo’ld; [Yet what I can will I pleasure thee] Goe home and fett[413] thy father’s red gold, And I’le goe to the church and marry thee.’

This ladye is gone to her father’s hall, And well she knew where his red gold [lain], And counted forth five hundred pound, Besides all other jewels and chaines:

And brought it all to Younge Andrew, It was well counted upon his knee: Then he tooke her by the lilye-white hand And led her up to an hill sae hie.

VII

She had on a gowne of blacke velvett, (A pityfull sight after ye shall see) ‘Put off thy clothes, bonny wenche,’ he sayes, ‘For no foot further thou’st gang with mee.’

VIII

But then she put off her gowne of velvett, With many a salt teare from her e’e, And in a kirtle of fine breaden[414] silke She stood before Yonge Andrew’s e’e.

Sayes, ‘O put off thy kirtle of silke, For some and all shall goe with mee; Unto my owne lady I must it beare, Whom I must needs love better than thee!’

Then she put off her kirtle of silke, With many a salt teare still from her e’e; In a petticoate of scarlett redd She stood before Yonge Andrew’s e’e.

Sayes, ‘O put off thy petticoate, For some and all shall goe with mee; Unto my owne ladye I will it beare, That dwells soe far in a strange countrye.’

XII

But then she put off her petticoate, With many a salt teare still from her e’e, And in a smocke of brave white silk She stood before Yonge Andrew’s e’e.

XIII

Sayes, ‘O put off thy smocke of silke, For some and all shall goe with me; Unto my owne ladye I will it beare, That dwells soe far in a strange countrye.’--

XIV

Sayes, ‘O remember, Yonge Andrew, Once of a woman you were borne; And for the birth that Marye bore I pray you let my smocke be upon!’--

Sayes, ‘Yes, fayre ladye I know it well, Once of a woman I was borne; Yet for noe birth that Marye bore Thy smocke shall not be left upon.’

XVI

But then she put off her headgeare fine-- She had billaments[415] worth a hundred pound-- The hayre was upon that bonny wench’ head Cover’d her bodye downe to the ground.

XVII

Then he pull’d forth a Scottish brand, And held it there in his owne right hand; Sayes, ‘Whether wilt dye upon my sword’s point, Or thou wilt goe naked home againe?’--

XVIII

‘Life is sweet,’ then, ‘Sir,’ said she, ‘Therefore I pray you leave me with mine; Before I wo’ld dye on your sword’s point I had rather goe naked home againe.

XIX

‘My father,’ she sayes, ‘is a right good earle As any remaines in his owne countrye; Gif ever he doe your bodye take, You are sure to flower a gallow-tree.

‘And I have seven brethren,’ she sayes, ‘And they are all hardy men and bold; Gif ever they doe your bodye take You’ll never again gang quicke over molde.’--

XXI

‘If your father be a right good earle As any remaines in his owne countrye, Tush! he shall never my bodye take, I’ll gang soe fast and over the sea.

XXII

‘If you have seven brethren,’ he sayes, ‘If they be never soe hardy and bold, Tush! they shall never my bodye take, I’ll gang soe fast over Scottish molde.’

XXIII

This ladye is gone to her father’s hall, Where every body their rest did take; For but the Earle which was her father Lay wakin’ for his deere daughter’s sake.

XXIV

‘But who is that,’ her father can say-- ‘Who is’t soe privily knows the pinn?’ ‘It’s Helen, your owne deere daughter, father, I pray you rise and lett me in!

XXV

[‘I pray you, pray you, lett me in!’--] ‘Noe, by my hood!’ quoth her father then; ‘My house thou’st never come within, Without I had my red gold againe.’

XXVI

‘Nay, nay, your gold is gone, father, [Yet I pray you rise and let me in!’] ‘Then naked thou came into this world, And naked thou shalt return againe.’

XXVII

‘Nay, God forgave His death, father, And soe I hope you will doe mee.’ ‘Away, away, thou cursèd woman! Pray God an ill death thou may dee!’

XXVIII

I’ the morning, when her father got upp, A pittyful sight there he might see; His owne deere daughter was dead, without clothes,-- And this was the end of that bonny ladye.

XXIX

But let us leave talking of this ladye And talke some more of Yonge Andrew: For false he was to this bonny ladye-- More pitty that he had not beene true!

XXX

He was not gone in the forest a mile, Or half a mile into the heart of Wales, But a shee-wolfe caught him by such a wyle That hee must come to tell noe more tales.

XXXI

And now Yonge Andrew he is dead, But he never was buryèd under molde; And there as the wolfe devourèd him There lyès all this great Earle’s gold.

FOOTNOTES:

[411] draught = picture.

[412] may = maid.

[413] fett = fetch.

[414] breaden = braided.

[415] billaments = habiliments.

_60. The Gay Goshawk_

‘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.’--

‘O how can I your true-love ken, Or how can I her know? Whan frae her mouth I never heard couth[416], Nor wi’ my eyes her saw.’--

III

‘O well sall ye my true-love ken, As soon as you her see; For, of a’ the flow’rs in fair England, The fairest flow’r is she.

‘At even at my love’s bower-door There grows a bowing birk, An’ sit ye down and sing thereon, As she gangs to the kirk.

‘An’ four-and-twenty ladies fair Will wash and go to kirk, But well sall ye my true-love ken, For she wears gowd on her skirt.

‘An’ four-and-twenty gay ladies Will to the mass repair, But well sall ye my true-love ken, For she wears gowd on her hair.’

VII

O even at that lady’s bower door There grows a bowing birk, An’ he set down and sang thereon, As she gaed to the kirk.

VIII

‘O eet and drink, my marys[417] a’, The wine flows you among, Till I gang to my shot-window[418], An’ hear yon bonny bird’s song.

‘Sing on, sing on, my bonny bird, The song ye sang the streen[419], For I ken by your sweet singin’ You’re frae my true-love sen.’

O first he sang a merry song, An’ then he sang a grave, An’ then he peck’d his feathers gray, To her the letter gave.

‘Ha, there’s a letter frae your love, He says he sent you three; He canna wait your luve langer, But for your sake he’ll dee.

XII

‘He bids you write a letter to him; He says he’s sent you five; He canna wait your luve langer, Tho’ you’re the fairest alive.’--

XIII

‘Ye bid him bake his bridal-bread, And brew his bridal-ale, An’ I’ll meet him in fair Scotland Lang, lang or it be stale.’

XIV

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!’--

‘Ask on, ask on, my daughter, An’ granted it sall be; Except ae squire in fair Scotland, An’ him you sall never see.’--

XVI

‘The only boon, my father dear, That I do crave of thee, Is, gin I die in southin lands, In Scotland to bury me.

XVII

‘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 mass be sung.

XVIII

‘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.’

XIX

She is doen her to her bigly[420] bow’r, As fast as she could fare, An’ she has tane a sleepy draught, That she had mixt wi’ care.

She’s laid her down upon her bed, An’ soon she’s fa’n asleep, And soon o’er every tender limb Cauld death began to creep.

XXI

Whan night was flown, an’ day was come, Nae ane that did her see But thought she was as surely dead As ony lady cou’d be.

XXII

Her father an’ her brothers dear Gar’d make to her a bier; The tae half was o’ guid red gold, The tither o’ silver clear.

XXIII

Her mither an’ her sisters fair Gar’d work for her a sark; The tae half was o’ cambrick fine, The tither o’ needle wark.

XXIV

The firstin kirk that they came till, They gar’d the bells be rung, An’ the nextin kirk that they came till, They gar’d the mass be sung.

XXV

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[421]!

XXVI

‘Lay down, lay down the bigly bier, Lat me the dead look on!’-- Wi’ cherry cheeks and ruby lips She lay and smil’d on him.

XXVII

‘O ae sheave[422] o’ your bread, true love, An’ ae glass o’ your wine! For I hae fasted for your sake These fully days is nine.

XXVIII

‘Gang hame, gang hame, my seven bold brothers, Gang hame and sound your horn; An’ ye may boast in southin lands Your sister’s play’d you scorn!’

FOOTNOTES:

[416] couth = word.

[417] marys = maidens.

[418] shot-window here = bow-window.

[419] the streen = yestreen.

[420] bigly = commodious.

[421] make = mate, lover.

[422] sheave = slice.

_61. Willie’s Lyke-Wake_

‘Willie, Willie, what makes you sae sad?’ _And the sun shines over the valleys and a’_-- ‘I lie sairly sick for the love of a maid.’ _Amang the blue flowers and the yellow and a’._

‘O Willie, my son, I’ll learn you a wile, How this pretty fair maid ye may beguile.

III

‘Ye maun lie doun just as ye were dead, And tak’ your windin’-sheet round your head.

‘Ye maun gie the bellman his bell-groat, To ring your dead-bell at your lover’s yett[423].’

Willie lay doun just as he war dead, And took his windin’-sheet round his head.

He gied the bellman his bell-groat To ring his dead-bell at his lover’s yett.

VII

‘O wha is this that is dead, I hear?’-- ‘O wha but Willie that lo’ed ye sae dear?’

VIII

She is hame to her father’s ain bour: ‘I’ll gang to yon lyke-wake[424] ae single hour.’--

‘Ye maun tak’ with you your brither John; It’s not meet for maidens to venture alone.’--

‘I’ll not tak’ with me my brither John, But I’ll gang along myself all alone.’

It’s when she cam’ to her true lovers yett, She dealt the red gold round for his sak’.

XII

It’s when she came to her true lover’s bed She lifted the sheet to look at the dead.

XIII

He’s ta’en her hand sae meek and sae sma’, [And ca’d her his wife before them a’].

XIV

‘Fair maid, ye cam’ without horse or boy, But I’ll send you home with a merry convoy.’

FOOTNOTES:

[423] yett = gate.

[424] lyke-wake = corpse-watching.

_62. Fair Margaret and Sweet William_

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.

‘I see no harm by you, Margaret, Nor you see none by me; Before to-morrow eight o’clock A rich wedding shall you see.’

III

Fair Margaret sat in her bower-window Combing her yellow hair, She saw Sweet William and his brown bride Unto the church draw near.

Then down she laid her ivory comb, And up she bound her hair; She went out from her bower alive But alive never more came there.

When day was gone, and night was come, And all men fast asleep, Came in the ghost of fair Margaret, And stood at William’s feet.

‘How like ye the lady, Sweet William, That lies in your arms asleep? God give you joy of your gay bride-bed, And me of my winding-sheet!’

VII

When night was gone, and day was come, And all men waked from sleep, His lady said to Sweet William, ‘My dear, I have cause to weep:

VIII

‘I dream’d a dream, Sweet William, That seldom comes to good: My bower was fill’d with wild-wood swine, And our bride-bed full of blood.’

He callèd up his merry men all, By one, by two, by three. Saying, ‘I’ll away to Fair Margaret’s bower, With the leave of my ladye.’

And when he came to Fair Margaret’s bower He knockèd at the ring; And who so ready as her seven brothers To rise and let him in?

‘O, is she in the parlour?’ he said, ‘Or is she in the hall? Or is she in the long chamber Amongst her merry maids all?’--

XII

‘No, she’s not in the parlour,’ they said, ‘Nor she’s not in the hall: But she is in the long chamber, Laid out against the wall.’--

XIII

He turnèd up the covering-sheet, And look’d upon the dead. ‘Methinks her lips are pale and wan, She has lost her cherry red.’

XIV

With that bespake the seven brothers, Making a piteous moan: ‘You may go kiss your jolly brown bride, And let our sister alone.’--

‘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 nor yet by night.

XVI

‘Deal on, deal on, my merry men all, Deal on your cake and wine! For whatever is dealt at her funeral to-day Shall be dealt to-morrow at mine.’

XVII

Fair Margaret died on the over night, Sweet William died on the morrow: Fair Margaret died for pure, pure love, Sweet William died for sorrow.

XVIII

Go with your right to Newcastle, And come with your left side home; There you will see these two lovers Lie printed on one stone.

_63. The Twa Brothers_

There were twa brethren in the North, They went to school thegither; The one unto the other said, ‘Will you try a warsle[425], brither?’

They warsled up, they warsled down, Till Sir John fell to the ground, And there was a knife in Sir Willie’s pouch Gied him a deadly wound.

III

‘Tak’ aff, tak’ aff my holland sark, Rive[426] it frae gare[427] to gare. And stap it in my bleeding wound-- ’Twill aiblins[428] bleed nae mair.’

He’s pu’it aff his holland sark, Rave it frae gare to gare, And stapt it in his bleeding wound-- But aye it bled the mair.

‘O tak’ now aff my green cleiding[429] And row[430] me saftly in, And carry me up to Chester kirk, Whar the grass grows fair and green.

‘But what will ye say to your father dear When ye gae home at e’en?’-- ‘I’ll say ye’re lying at Chester kirk, Whar the grass grows fair and green.’--

VII

‘O no, O no, when he speers[431] for me Saying, “William, whar is John?” Ye’ll say ye left me at Chester school Leaving the school alone.’

VIII

He’s ta’en him up upo’ his back, And borne him hence away, And carried him to Chester kirk, And laid him in the clay.

But when he sat in his father’s chair, He grew baith pale and wan: ‘O what blude’s that upon your brow? And whar is your brither John?’--

‘O John’s awa’ to Chester school, A scholar he’ll return; He bade me tell his father dear About him no’ to mourn.

‘And it is the blude o’ my gude grey steed; He wadna hunt for me.’-- ‘O thy steed’s blude was ne’er so red, Nor ne’er so dear to me!

XII

‘And whaten blude’s that upon your dirk? Dear Willie, tell to me.’-- ‘It is the blude o’ my ae brither And dule and wae is me!’--

XIII

‘O what sall I say to your mither? Dear Willie, tell to me.’-- ‘I’ll saddle my steed and awa’ I’ll ride, To dwell in some far countrie.’--

XIV

‘O when will ye come hame again? Dear Willie, tell to me!’-- ‘When the sun and moon dance on yon green: And that will never be!’

FOOTNOTES:

[425] warsle = wrestle.

[426] rive = tear.

[427] gare = gore.

[428] aiblins = perhaps.

[429] cleiding = clothing.

[430] row = wrap.

[431] speers = asks.

_64. The Cruel Brother_

There were three ladies play’d at the ba’, _With a hey ho! and a lily gay!_ By came a knight and he woo’d them a’ _As the primrose spreads so sweetly. Sing Annet, and Marret, and fair Maisrie, As the dew hangs i’ the wood, gay ladie!_

The first ane she was clad in red: ‘O lady fair, Will you be my bride?’

III

The midmost ane was clad in green: ‘O lady fair, will you be my queen?’

The youngest o’ them was clad in white: ‘O lady fair, be my heart’s delight!’--

‘Sir knight ere ye my favour win, Ye maun get consent frae a’ my kin.

‘Ye maun go ask my father, the King: Sae maun ye ask my mither, the Queen.

VII

‘Sae maun ye ask my sister Anne, And dinna forget my brother John.’

VIII

He has sought her from her father, the King And sae did he her mither, the Queen.

He has sought her from her sister Anne: But he has forgot her brither John.

Now when the wedding day was come, The knight would take his bonny bride home.

And many a lord and many a knight Came to behold that ladie bright.

XII

And there was nae man that did her see But wish’d himself bridegroom to be.

XIII

Her father led her down the stair, And her mither dear she kiss’d her there.

XIV

Her sister Anne led her thro’ the close, And her brother John set her on her horse.

She lean’d her o’er the saddle-bow, To give him a kiss ere she did go.

XVI

He has ta’en a knife, baith lang and sharp, And stabb’d that bonny bride to the heart.

XVII

She hadna ridden half thro’ the town, Until her heart’s blude stain’d her gown.

XVIII

‘Ride saftly up,’ said the best young man; ‘I think our bride come hooly[432] on.’

XIX

‘Ride up, ride up,’ said the second man; ‘I think our bride looks pale and wan.’

Up then comes the gay bridegroom, And straight unto the bride he came.

XXI

‘Does your side-saddle sit awry? Or does your steed [go heavily]?’--

XXII

‘O lead me gently over yon stile, For there would I sit and bleed awhile.

XXIII

‘O lead me gently up yon hill, For there would I sit and make my will.’--

XXIV

‘O what will you leave to your father dear?’-- ‘The milk-white steed that brought me here.’--

XXV

‘What will you leave to your mother dear?’-- ‘My wedding shift that I do wear.’--

XXVI

‘What will you leave to your sister Anne?’-- ‘My silken snood and my golden fan.’--

XXVII

‘What will you leave to your brother John?’-- _With a hay ho! and a lily gay!_ ‘The gallows-tree to hang him on.’ _And the primrose spreads so sweetly. Sing Annet, and Marret, and fair Maisrie, And the dew hangs i’ the wood, gay ladie!_

FOOTNOTES:

[432] hooly = slowly, softly.

_65. Edward, Edward_

‘Why does your brand sae drop wi’ blude, Edward, Edward? Why does your brand sae drop wi’ blude, And why sae sad gang ye, O?’-- ‘O I hae kill’d my hawk sae gude, Mither, mither; O I hae kill’d my hawk sae gude, And I had nae mair but he, O.’

‘Your hawk’s blude was never sae red, Edward, Edward; Your hawk’s blude was never sae red, My dear son, I tell thee, O.’-- ‘O I hae kill’d my red-roan steed, Mither, mither; O I hae kill’d my red-roan steed, That erst was sae fair and free, O.’

III

‘Your steed was auld, and ye hae got mair, Edward, Edward; Your steed was auld, and ye hae got mair; Some other dule ye dree[433], O.’-- ‘O I hae kill’d my father dear, Mither, mither; O I hae kill’d my father dear, Alas, and wae is me, O!’

‘And whatten penance will ye dree for that, Edward, Edward? Whatten penance will ye dree for that? My dear son, now tell me, O.’-- ‘I’ll set my feet in yonder boat, Mither, mither; I’ll set my feet in yonder boat, And I’ll fare over the sea, O.’

‘And what will ye do wi’ your tow’rs and your ha’, Edward, Edward? And what will ye do wi’ your tow’rs and your ha’, That were sae fair to see, O?’-- ‘I’ll let them stand till they doun fa’, Mither, mither; I’ll let them stand till they doun fa’, For here never mair maun I be, O.’

‘And what will ye leave to your bairns and your wife, Edward, Edward? And what will ye leave to your bairns and your wife, When ye gang owre the sea, O?’-- ‘The warld’s room: let them beg through life, Mither, mither; The warld’s room: let them beg through life; For them never mair will I see, O.’

VII

‘And what will ye leave to your ain mither dear, Edward, Edward? And what will ye leave to your ain mither dear, My dear son, now tell me, O?’-- ‘The curse of hell frae me sall ye bear, Mither, mither; The curse of hell frae me sall ye bear: Sic counsels ye gave to me, O!’

FOOTNOTES:

[433] dule ye dree = grief you suffer.

_66. Lord Randal_

‘O where hae ye been, Lord Randal, my son? O where hae ye been, my handsome young man?’-- ‘I hae been to the wild wood; mother, make my bed soon, For I’m weary wi’ hunting, and fain wald lie down.’

‘Where gat ye your dinner, Lord Randal, my son? Where gat ye your dinner, my handsome young man?’-- ‘I dined wi’ my true-love; mother, make my bed soon, For I’m weary wi’ hunting, and fain wald lie down.’

III

‘What gat ye to your dinner, Lord Randal, my son? What gat ye to your dinner, my handsome young man?’-- ‘I gat eels boil’d in broo’; mother, make my bed soon, For I’m weary wi’ hunting, and fain wald lie down.’

‘What became of your bloodhounds, Lord Randal, my son? What became of your bloodhounds, my handsome young man?’-- ‘O they swell’d and they died; mother, make my bed soon, For I’m weary wi’ hunting, and fain wald lie down.’

‘O I fear ye are poison’d, Lord Randal, my son! O I fear ye are poison’d, my handsome young man!’-- ‘O yes! I am poison’d; mother, make my bed soon, For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wald lie down.’

_67. The Twa Corbies_

(SCOTTISH VERSION)

As I was walking all alane, I heard twa corbies[434] making a mane: The tane unto the tither did say, ‘Whar sall we gang and dine the day?’

‘--In behint yon auld fail[435] dyke I wot there lies a new-slain knight; And naebody kens that he lies there But his hawk, his hound, and his lady fair.

III

‘His hound is to the hunting gane, His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame, His lady’s ta’en anither mate, So we may mak’ our dinner sweet.

‘Ye’ll sit on his white hause[436]-bane, And I’ll pike out his bonny blue e’en: Wi’ ae lock o’ his gowden hair We’ll theek[437] our nest when it grows bare.

‘Mony a one for him maks mane, But nane sall ken whar he is gane: O’er his white banes, when they are bare, The wind sall blaw for evermair.’

FOOTNOTES:

[434] corbies = ravens.

[435] fail = turf.

[436] hause = neck.

[437] theek = thatch.

_68. The Three Ravens_

There were three ravens sat on a tree, They were as black as they might be.

The one of them said to his make[438], ‘Where shall we our breakfast take?’

III

‘Down in yonder greenè field There lies a knight slain under his shield;

‘His hounds they lie down at his feet, So well do they their master keep;

‘His hawks they flie so eagerly, There’s no fowl dare come him nigh.

‘Down there comes a fallow doe As great with young as she might goe.

VII

‘She lift up his bloudy head And kist his wounds that were so red.

VIII

‘She gat him up upon her back And carried him to earthen lake.

‘She buried him before the prime, She was dead herself ere evensong time.

‘God send every gentleman Such hounds, such hawks, and such a leman!’

FOOTNOTES:

[438] make = mate.