BOOK III

Chapter 1321,402 wordsPublic domain

_69. The Nut-Brown Maid_

_He._ _Be it right or wrong, these men among On women do complain; Affirming this, how that it is A labour spent in vain To love them wele; for never a dele[439] They love a man again: For let a man do what he can Their favour to attain, Yet if a new to them pursue, Their first true lover than[440] Laboureth for naught; for from her thought He is a banished man._

_She._ _I say not nay, but that all day It is both written and said That woman’s faith is, as who saith All utterly decay’d: But nevertheless, right good witnèss In this case might be laid That they love true and continùe: Record the Nut-brown Maid, Which, when her love came her to prove, To her to make his moan, Would not depart; for in her heart She loved but him alone._

III

_He._ _Then between us let us discuss What was all the manere Between them two: we will also Tell all the pain in fere[441] That she was in. Now I begin, So that ye me answere: Wherefore all ye that present be, I pray you, give an ear. I am the Knight. I come by night, As secret as I can, Saying,_ Alas! thus standeth the case, I am a banished man.

_She._ _And I your will for to fulfil In this will not refuse; Trusting to show, in wordès few, That men have an ill use-- To their own shame--women to blame, And causeless them accuse. Therefore to you I answer now, All women to excuse:_ Mine own heart dear, with you what cheer? I pray you, tell anone; For, in my mind, of all mankind I love but you alone.

_He._ It standeth so: a deed is do Whereof great harm shall grow: My destiny is for to die A shameful death, I trow; Or else to flee. The t’ one must be. None other way I know But to withdraw as an outlàw, And take me to my bow. Wherefore adieu, mine own heart true! None other rede I can[442]: For I must to the green-wood go, Alone, a banished man.

_She._ O Lord, what is this worldis bliss, That changeth as the moon! My summer’s day in lusty May Is darked before the noon. I hear you say, farewell: Nay, nay, We dèpart not so soon. Why say ye so? whither will ye go? Alas! what have ye done? All my welfàre to sorrow and care Should change, if ye were gone: For, in my mind, of all mankind I love but you alone.

VII

_He._ I can believe it shall you grieve, And somewhat you distrain[443]; But afterward, your painès hard Within a day or twain Shall soon aslake; and ye shall take Comfort to you again. Why should ye ought? for, to make thought, Your labour were in vain. And thus I do; and pray you to, As hartèly as I can: For I must to the green-wood go, Alone, a banished man.

VIII

_She._ Now, sith that ye have showed to me The secret of your mind, I shall be plain to you again, Like as ye shall me find. Sith it is so that ye will go, I will not live behind. Shall never be said the Nut-brown Maid Was to her love unkind. Make you readỳ, for so am I, Although it were anone: For, in my mind, of all mankind I love but you alone.

_He._ Yet I you rede to take good heed What men will think and say: Of young, of old, it shall be told That ye be gone away Your wanton will for to fulfil, In green-wood you to play; And that ye might for your delight No longer make delay. Rather than ye should thus for me Be called an ill womàn Yet would I to the green-wood go, Alone, a banished man.

_She._ Though it be sung of old and young That I should be to blame, Theirs be the charge that speak so large In hurting of my name: For I will prove that faithful love It is devoid of shame; In your distress and heaviness To part with[444] you the same: And sure all tho[445] that do not so True lovers are they none: For, in my mind, of all mankind I love but you alone.

_He._ I counsel you, Remember how It is no maiden’s law Nothing to doubt, but to run out To wood with an outlàw. For ye must there in your hand bear A bow readỳ to draw; And as a thief thus must you live Ever in dread and awe; Whereby to you great harm might grow: Yet had I liever than That I had to the green-wood go, Alone, a banished man.

XII

_She._ I think not nay but as ye say; It is no maiden’s lore; But love may make me for your sake, As I have said before, To come on foot, to hunt and shoot, To get us meat and store; For so that I your company May have, I ask no more. From which to part it maketh my heart As cold as any stone; For, in my mind, of all mankind I love but you alone.

XIII

_He._ For an outlàw this is the law, That men him take and bind: Without pitie, hangèd to be, And waver with the wind. If I had need (as God forbede!) What socours could ye find? Forsooth, I trow, you and your bow For fear would draw behind. And no mervail; for little avail Were in your counsel than: Wherefore I’ll to the green-wood go, Alone, a banished man.

XIV

_She._ Right well know ye that women be But feeble for to fight; No womanhede it is, indeed, To be bold as a knight: Yet in such fear if that ye were With enemies day and night, I would withstand, with bow in hand, To grieve them as I might, And you to save; as women have From death men many one: For, in my mind, of all mankind I love but you alone.

_He._ Yet take good hede; for ever I drede That ye could not sustain The thorny ways, the deep vallèys, The snow, the frost, the rain, The cold, the heat; for dry or wete, We must lodge on the plain; And, us above, no other roof But a brake bush or twain: Which soon should grieve you, I believe; And ye would gladly than That I had to the green-wood go, Alone, a banished man.

XVI

_She._ Sith I have here been partynere With you of joy and bliss, I must alsò part of your woe Endure, as reason is: Yet I am sure of one pleasùre, And shortly it is this-- That where ye be, me seemeth, pardé, I could not fare amiss. Without more speech I you beseech That we were shortly gone; For, in my mind, of all mankind I love but you alone.

XVII

_He._ If ye go thyder, ye must consider, When ye have lust to dine, There shall no meat be for to gete, Nether bere, ale, ne wine, Ne shetès clean, to lie between, Made of the thread and twine; None other house, but leaves and boughs, To cover your head and mine. Lo, mine heart sweet, this ill diète Should make you pale and wan: Wherefore I’ll to the green-wood go, Alone, a banished man.

XVIII

_She._ Among the wild deer such an archère, As men say that ye be, Ne may not fail of good vitayle Where is so great plentè: And water clear of the rivere Shall be full sweet to me; With which in hele[446] I shall right wele Endure, as ye shall see; And, or we go, a bed or two I can provide anone; For, in my mind, of all mankind I love but you alone.

XIX

_He._ Lo yet, before, ye must do more, If ye will go with me: As, cut your hair up by your ear, Your kirtle by the knee; With bow in hand for to withstand Your enemies, if need be: And this same night, before daylight, To woodward will I flee. If that ye will all this fulfil, Do it shortly as ye can: Else will I to the green-wood go, Alone, a banished man.

_She._ I shall as now do more for you Than ’longeth to womanhede; To short my hair, a bow to bear, To shoot in time of need. O my sweet mother! before all other For you I have most drede! But now, adieu! I must ensue Where fortune doth me lead. All this make ye: Now let us flee; The day cometh fast upon: For, in my mind, of all mankind I love but you alone.

XXI

_He._ Nay, nay, not so; ye shall not go, And I shall tell you why-- Your appetite is to be light Of love, I well espy: For, right as ye have said to me, In likewise hardily Ye would answere whosoever it were, In way of companỳ: It is said of old, Soon hot, soon cold; And so is a womàn: Wherefore I to the wood will go, Alone, a banished man.

XXII

_She._ If ye take heed, it is no need Such words to say to me; For oft ye prayed, and long assayed, Or I loved you, pardè: And though that I of ancestry A baron’s daughter be, Yet have you proved how I you loved, A squire of low degree; And ever shall, whatso befall, To die therefore anone; For, in my mind, of all mankind I love but you alone.

XXIII

_He._ A baron’s child to be beguiled, It were a cursèd deed! To be felàw with an outlaw-- Almighty God forbede! Yet better were the poor squyere Alone to forest yede[447] Than ye shall say another day That by my cursèd rede Ye were betrayed. Wherefore, good maid, The best rede that I can, Is, that I to the green-wood go, Alone, a banished man.

XXIV

_She._ Whatever befall, I never shall Of this thing be upbraid: But if ye go, and leave me so, Then have ye me betrayed. Remember you wele, how that ye dele; For if ye, as ye said, Be so unkind to leave behind Your love, the Nut-brown Maid, Trust me trulỳ that I shall die Soon after ye be gone: For, in my mind, of all mankind I love but you alone.

XXV

_He._ If that ye went, ye should repent; For in the forest now I have purveyed me of a maid Whom I love more than you: Another more fair than ever ye were I dare it well avow; And of you both each should be wroth With other, as I trow: It were mine ease to live in peace; So will I, if I can: Wherefore I to the wood will go, Alone, a banished man.

XXVI

_She._ Though in the wood I understood Ye had a paramour, All this may nought remove my thought, But that I will be your’: And she shall find me soft and kind And courteis every hour; Glad to fulfil all that she will Command me, to my power: For had ye, lo, an hundred mo, Yet would I be that one: For, in my mind, of all mankind I love but you alone.

XXVII

_He._ Mine own dear love, I see the prove That ye be kind and true; Of maid, of wife, in all my life, The best that ever I knew. Be merry and glad; be no more sad; The case is changèd new; For it were ruth that for your truth Ye should have cause to rue. Be not dismayed, whatsoever I said To you when I began; I will not to the green-wood go; I am no banished man.

XXVIII

_She._ These tidings be more glad to me Than to be made a queen, If I were sure they should endure; But it is often seen When men will break promise they speak The wordis on the splene[448]. Ye shape some wile me to beguile, And steal from me, I ween: Then were the case worse than it was, And I more wo-begone: For, in my mind, of all mankind I love but you alone.

XXIX

_He._ Ye shall not nede further to drede: I will not disparàge You (God defend), sith you descend Of so great a linàge. Now understand: to Westmoreland, Which is my heritage, I will you bring; and with a ring, By way of marriàge I will you take, and lady make, As shortly as I can: Thus have you won an Earle’s son, And not a banished man.

XXX

_Here may ye see that women be In love meek, kind, and stable; Let never man reprove them than, Or call them variable; But rather pray God that we may To them be comfortable; Which sometime proveth such as He loveth, If they be charitable. For sith men would that women should Be meek to them each one; Much more ought they to God obey, And serve but Him alone._

FOOTNOTES:

[439] never a dele = never a bit.

[440] than = then.

[441] in fere = in company, together.

[442] rede I can = counsel I know.

[443] distrain = distress.

[444] part with = share with.

[445] tho = those.

[446] hele = health.

[447] yede = went.

[448] on the splene = in haste.

_70. Fause Foodrage_

King Easter has courted her for her lands, King Wester for her fee, King Honour for her comely face, And for her fair bodie.

They had not been four months married, As I have heard them tell, Until the nobles of the land Against them did rebel.

III

And they cast kevils[449] them amang, And kevils them between; And they cast kevils them amang, Wha suld gae kill the king.

O, some said yea, and some said nay, Their words did not agree; Till up and got him, Fause Foodrage, And swore it suld be he.

When bells were rung, and mass was sung, And a’ men bound to bed, King Honour and his gay ladye In a high chamber were laid.

Then up and raise him, Fause Foodrage, When a’ were fast asleep, And slew the porter in his lodge, That watch and ward did keep.

VII

O four-and-twenty silver keys Hang hie upon a pin; And aye, as ae door he did unlock, He has fasten’d it him behin’.

VIII

Then up and raise him, King Honour, Says--‘What means a’ this din? Or what’s the matter, Fause Foodrage, Or wha has loot you in?’--

‘O ye my errand weel sall learn, Before that I depart.’-- Then drew a knife, baith lang and sharp, And pierced him to the heart.

Then up and got the Queen hersell, And fell low down on her knee, ‘O spare my life, now, Fause Foodrage! For I never injured thee.

‘O spare my life, now, Fause Foodrage! Until I lighter be! And see gin it be lad or lass, King Honour has left me wi’.’--

XII

‘O gin it be a lass,’ he says, ‘Weel nursèd it sall be; But gin it be a lad bairn, He sall be hangèd hie.

XIII

‘I winna spare for his tender age, Nor yet for his hie hie kin; But soon as e’er he born is, He sall mount the gallows pin.’--

XIV

O four-and-twenty valiant knights Were set the Queen to guard; And four stood aye at her bour door, To keep both watch and ward.

But when the time drew near an end, That she suld lighter be, She cast about to find a wile, To set her body free.

XVI

O she has birled these merry young men With the ale but and the wine, Until they were a’ deadly drunk As any wild-wood swine.

XVII

‘O narrow, narrow is this window, And big, big am I grown!’-- Yet through the might of Our Ladye, Out at it she is gone.

XVIII

She wander’d up, she wander’d down, She wander’d out and in, And, at last, into the very swine’s stythe The Queen brought forth a son.

XIX

Then they cast kevils them amang, Which suld gae seek the Queen; And the kevil fell upon Wise William, And he sent his wife for him.

O when she saw Wise William’s wife, The Queen fell on her knee: ‘Win up, win up, madam!’ she says: ‘What needs this courtesie?’--

XXI

‘O out o’ this I winna rise, Till a boon ye grant to me; To change your lass for this lad bairn, King Honour left me wi’.

XXII

‘And ye maun learn my gay goss-hawk Right weel to breast a steed; And I sall learn your turtle dow[450] As weel to write and read.

XXIII

‘And ye maun learn my gay goss-hawk To wield both bow and brand; And I sall learn your turtle dow To lay gowd[451] wi’ her hand.

XXIV

‘At kirk and market when we meet, We’ll dare make nae avowe, But--“Dame, how does my gay goss-hawk?” “Madame, how does my dow?”’

XXV

When days were gane, and years came on, Wise William he thought lang; And he has ta’en King Honour’s son A-hunting for to gang.

XXVI

It sae fell out, at this huntìng, Upon a simmer’s day, That they came by a fair castell, Stood on a sunny brae.

XXVII

‘O dinna ye see that bonny castell, Wi’ halls and towers sae fair? Gin ilka man had back his ain, Of it you suld be heir.’--

XXVIII

‘How I suld be heir of that castell, In sooth, I canna see; For it belangs to Fause Foodrage, And he is na kin to me.’--

XXIX

‘O gin ye suld kill him, Fause Foodrage, You would do but what was right; For I wot he kill’d your father dear, Or ever ye saw the light.

XXX

‘And gin ye suld kill him, Fause Foodrage, There is no man durst you blame; For he keeps your mother a prisoner, And she darna take ye hame.’--

XXXI

The boy stared wild like a gray goss-hawk; Says--‘What may a’ this mean?’-- ‘My boy, ye are King Honour’s son, And your mother’s our lawful Queen.’--

XXXII

‘O gin I be King Honour’s son, By Our Ladye I swear, This night I will that traitor slay, And relieve my mother dear!’--

XXXIII

He has set his bent bow to his breast And leaped the castell wa’; And soon he has seized on Fause Foodrage, Wha loud for help ’gan ca’.

XXXIV

‘O haud your tongue, now, Fause Foodrage, Frae me ye shanna flee!’-- Syne pierced him through the fause, fause heart, And set his mother free.

XXXV

And he has rewarded Wise William Wi’ the best half of his land; And sae has he the turtle dow, Wi’ the truth o’ his right hand.

FOOTNOTES:

[449] kevils = lots.

[450] dow = dove.

[451] lay gowd = embroider in gold.

_71. The Fair Flower of Northumberland_

It was a knight in Scotland born, _Follow, my love, come over the strand_-- Was taken prisoner and left forlorn, Even by the good Earl of Northumberland.

Then was he cast in prison strong, _Follow, my love, come over the strand_-- Where he could not walk nor lie along, Even by the good Earl of Northumberland.

III

And as in sorrow thus he lay, _Follow, my love, come over the strand_-- The Earl’s sweet daughter walk’d that way, And she the faire flower of Northumberland.

And loud to her this knight did crie, _Follow, my love, come over the strand_-- The salt teares standing in his eye, And she the faire flower of Northumberland.

‘Faire lady,’ he said, ‘take pity on me, _Follow, my love, come over the strand_-- And let me not in prison dee[452], And you the faire flower of Northumberland.’--

‘Faire sir, how should I take pity on thee? _Follow, my love, come over the strand_-- Thou being a foe to our countrie, And I the faire flower of Northumberland.’

VII

‘Faire lady, I am no foe,’ he said, _Follow, my love, come over the strand_-- ‘Through thy sweet love here was I stay’d, For thee, the faire flower of Northumberland.’--

VIII

‘Why shouldst thou come here for love of me, _Follow, my love, come over the strand_-- Having wife and children in thy countrie? --And I the faire flower of Northumberland.’--

‘I swear by the blessèd Trinitie, _Follow, my love, come over the strand_-- I have no wife nor children, I, But I’ll make you my ladye in faire Scotland.

‘I swear by Him that was crown’d with thorn, _Follow, my love, come over the strand_-- That I never had wife since the day I was born, But I live a free lord in faire Scotland.’--

She stole from her father’s pillow the key, _Follow, my love, come over the strand_-- And soon out of prison she’s set him free To wend with her into faire Scotland.

XII

Likewise much gold she got by sleight, _Follow, my love, come over the strand_-- And all to help this forlorne knight To wend from her father to faire Scotland.

XIII

She’s led him down to her father’s stable, _Follow, my love, come over the strand_-- And she’s stolen two steeds both wight[453] and able, To carry them on to faire Scotland.

XIV

They rode till they came to a water clear, _Follow, my love, come over the strand_-- ‘Good Sir, how should I follow you here, And I the faire flower of Northumberland?

‘The water is rough and wonderful steepe, _Follow, my love, come over the strand_-- And on my saddle I shall not keepe, And I the faire flower of Northumberland.’--

XVI

‘Fear not the ford, faire lady,’ quoth he, _Follow, my love, come over the strand_-- ‘For long I cannot stay for thee, And thou the faire flower of Northumberland.’

XVII

From top to toe all wet was she: _Follow, my love, come over the strand_-- ‘This have I done for love of thee, And I the faire flower of Northumberland.’

XVIII

They rode till they came to a Scottish moss, _Follow, my love, come over the strand_-- He bade her light off from her father’s horse, Says, ‘Go, get you back to Northumberland.

XIX

‘For I have a wife and children five, _Follow, my love, come over the strand_-- In Edenborrow they be alive, So get thee home to Northumberland.’--

‘Have pity on me as I had it on thee! _Follow, my love, come over the strand_-- A cook in your kitchen I will be, Even I, the faire flower of Northumberland.

XXI

‘Or take me by the body so meek, _Follow, my love, come over the strand_-- And throw me in the water so deep, For I darena go back to Northumberland.’

XXII

He turn’d him around and he thought of a plan, _Follow, my love, come over the strand_-- He bought an old horse and he hired an old man To carry her back to Northumberland.

XXIII

When she came thro’ her father’s ha’, _Follow, my love, come over the strand_-- She louted[454] her low amongst them a’, She was the faire flower of Northumberland.

XXIV

Down came her father, he saw her and smiled, _Follow, my love, come over the strand_-- ‘You arena the first the false Scots have beguiled, And ye’re aye welcome back to Northumberland!’

FOOTNOTES:

[452] dee = die.

[453] wight = sturdy.

[454] louted = bowed.

_72. Young John_

A fair maid sat in her bower-door, Wringing her lily hands, And by it came a sprightly youth, Fast tripping o’er the strands.

‘Where gang ye, young John,’ she says, ‘Sae early in the day? It gars me think, by your fast trip, Your journey’s far away.’

III

He turn’d about wi’ a surly look, And said, ‘What’s that to thee? I’m gaen to see a lovely maid, Mair fairer far than ye.’--

‘Now hae ye play’d me this, fause love, In simmer, ’mid the flowers? I shall repay ye back again, In winter, ’mid the showers.

‘But again, dear love, and again, dear love, Will ye not turn again? For as ye look to other women, Sall I to other men.’--

‘Go make your choice of whom you please, For I my choice will have; I’ve chosen a maid more fair than thee, I never will deceive.’

VII

She’s kilted up her claithing fine, And after him gaed she; But aye he said, ‘Ye’ll turn again, Nae farther gang wi’ me.’--

VIII

‘But again, dear love, and again, dear love, Will ye ne’er love me again? Alas, for loving you sae well, And you nae me again!’

The firstan town that they cam’ till, He bought her brooch and ring; And aye he bade her turn again, And nae farther gang wi’ him.

‘But again, dear love, and again, dear love, Will ye ne’er love me again? Alas, for loving you sae well, And you nae me again!’

The nextan town that they cam’ till, He bought her muff and gloves; But aye he bade her turn again, And choose some other loves.

XII

‘But again, dear love, and again, dear love, Will ye ne’er love me again? Alas, for loving you sae well, And you nae me again!’

XIII

The nextan town that they cam’ till, His heart it grew mair fain, And he was as deep in love wi’ her As she was ower again.

XIV

The nextan town that they cam’ till, He bought her wedding gown, And made her lady of ha’s and bowers, Into sweet Berwick town.

_73. Lady Maisry_

The young lords o’ the north country Have all a-wooing gone, To win the love of Lady Maisry, But o’ them she wou’d hae none.

O they hae courted Lady Maisry Wi’ a’ kin kind of things; An’ they hae sought her Lady Maisry Wi’ brooches an’ wi’ rings.

III

An’ they ha’ sought her Lady Maisry Frae father and frae mother; An’ they ha’ sought her Lady Maisry Frae sister an’ frae brother.

An’ they ha’ follow’d her Lady Maisry Thro’ chamber an’ thro’ ha’; But a’ that they cou’d say to her, Her answer still was Na.

‘O haud your tongues, young men,’ she says, ‘An’ think nae mair o’ me; For I’ve gi’en my love to an English lord, An’ think nae mair o’ me.’

Her father’s kitchy-boy heard that, An ill death may he dee! An’ he is on to her brother, As fast as gang cou’d he.

VII

‘O is my father an’ my mother well, But an’ my brothers three? Gin my sister Lady Maisry be well, There’s naething can ail me.’--

VIII

‘Your father an’ your mother is well, But an’ your brothers three; Your sister Lady Maisry’s well, So big wi’ bairn gangs she.’

‘Gin this be true you tell to me, My malison light on thee! But gin it be a lie you tell, You sal be hangit hie.’

He’s done him to his sister’s bow’r, Wi’ meikle doole an’ care; An’ there he saw her Lady Maisry Kaiming her yellow hair.

‘O wha is aught[455] that bairn,’ he says, ‘That ye sae big are wi’? And gin ye winna own the truth, This moment ye sall dee.’

XII

She turn’d her right and roun’ about, An’ the kame fell frae her han’; A trembling seiz’d her fair body, An’ her rosy cheek grew wan.

XIII

‘O pardon me, my brother dear, An’ the truth I’ll tell to thee; My bairn it is to Lord William, An’ he is betroth’d to me.’--

XIV

‘O cou’d na ye gotten dukes, or lords, Intill your ain country, That ye draw up wi’ an English dog, To bring this shame on me?

‘But ye maun gi’ up the English lord, Whan your young babe is born; For, gin you keep by him an hour langer, Your life sall be forlorn[456].’--

XVI

‘I will gi’ up this English blood, Till my young babe be born; But the never a day nor hour langer, Tho’ my life should be forlorn.’--

XVII

‘O whare is a’ my merry young men, Whom I gi’ meat and fee, To pu’ the thistle and the thorn, To burn this woman wi’?’--

XVIII

She turn’d her head on her left shoulder, Saw her girdle hang on a tree; ‘O God bless them wha gave me that, They’ll never give more to me.

XIX

‘O whare will I get a bonny boy, To help me in my need, To rin wi’ haste to Lord William, And bid him come wi’ speed?’--

O out it spake a bonny boy, Stood by her brother’s side: ‘O I would run your errand, lady, O’er a’ the world sae wide.

XXI

‘Aft have I run your errands, lady, Whan blawn baith win’ and weet; But now I’ll rin your errand, lady, Wi’ saut tears on my cheek.’

XXII

O whan he came to broken briggs, He bent his bow and swam, An’ whan he came to the green grass growin’ He slack’d his shoone and ran.

XXIII

O whan he came to Lord William’s gates, He baed[457] na to chap[458] or ca’, But set his bent bow till his breast, An’ lightly lap’ the wa’; An’, or the porter was at the gate, The boy was i’ the ha’.

XXIV

‘O is my biggins[459] broken, boy? Or is my towers won? Or is my lady lighter yet, Of a dear daughter or son?’--

XXV

‘Your biggin is na broken, sir, Nor is your towers won; But the fairest lady in a’ the land For you this day maun burn.’--

XXVI

‘O saddle me the black, the black, Or saddle me the brown; O saddle me the swiftest steed That ever rade frae a town!’

XXVII

Or he was near a mile awa’, She heard his wild horse sneeze: ‘Mend up the fire, my false brother, It’s na come to my knees.’

XXVIII

O whan he lighted at the gate, She heard his bridle ring; ‘Mend up the fire, my false brother, It’s far yet frae my chin.

XXIX

‘Mend up the fire to me, brother, Mend up the fire to me; For I see him comin’ hard an’ fast, Will soon mend it up to thee.

XXX

‘O gin my hands had been loose, Willy, Sae hard as they are boun’, I would have turn’d me frae the gleed[460], And casten out your young son.’--

XXXI

‘O I’ll gar burn for you, Maisry, Your father an’ your mother; An’ I’ll gar burn for you, Maisry, Your sister an’ your brother.

XXXII

‘An’ I’ll gar burn for you, Maisry, The chief of a’ your kin; An’ the last bonfire that I come to, Mysel’ I will cast in.’

FOOTNOTES:

[455] aught = owed.

[456] forlorn = lost to you.

[457] baed = abode, tarried.

[458] chap = knock.

[459] biggins = buildings.

[460] gleed = glowing fire, embers.

_74. Bonny Bee Ho’m_

By Arthur’s Dale as late I went I heard a heavy moan; I heard a ladie lamenting sair, And ay she cried ‘Ohone!

‘Ohone, alas! what shall I do, Tormented night and day! I never loved a love but ane, And now he’s gone away.

III

‘But I will do for my true-love What ladies wou’d think sair; For seven year shall come and go Ere a kaim[461] gang in my hair.

‘There shall neither a shoe gang on my foot, Nor a kaim gang in my hair, Nor e’er a coal nor candle-light Shine in my bower nae mair.’

She thought her love had been on the sea, Fast sailing to Bee Ho’m; But he was in a quiet cham’er[462], Hearing his ladie’s moan.

‘Be husht, be husht, my ladie dear, I pray thee mourn not so; For I am deep sworn on a book To Bee Ho’m for to go.’

VII

She has gien him a chain of the beaten gowd, And a ring with a ruby stone: ‘As lang as this chain your body binds, Your blude can never be drawn.

VIII

‘But gin this ring shou’d fade or fail, Or the stone shou’d change its hue, Be sure your love is dead and gone, Or she has proved untrue.’

He had no been at Bonny Bee Ho’m A twelve month and a day, Till, looking on his gay gowd ring, The stone grew dark and gray.

‘O ye take my riches to Bee Ho’m, And deal them presentlie, To the young that canna, the auld that maunna, And the blind that does not see.

‘Fight on, fight on, my merry men all! With you I’ll fight no more; But I will gang to some holy place And pray to the King of Glore[463].’

FOOTNOTES:

[461] kaim = comb.

[462] cham’er = chamber.

[463] Glore = Glory.

_75. Sir Patrick Spens_

I. _The Sailing._

The king sits in Dunfermline town Drinking the blude-red wine; ‘O whare will I get a skeely[464] skipper To sail this new ship o’ mine?’

O up and spak an eldern knight, Sat at the king’s right knee: ‘Sir Patrick Spens is the best sailor That ever sail’d the sea.’

III

Our king has written a braid letter, And seal’d it with his hand, And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens, Was walking on the strand.

‘To Noroway, to Noroway, To Noroway o’er the faem; The king’s daughter o’ Noroway, ’Tis thou must bring her hame.’

The first word that Sir Patrick read So loud, loud laugh’d he; The neist word that Sir Patrick read The tear blinded his e’e.

‘O wha is this has done this deed And tauld the king o’ me, To send us out, at this time o’ year, To sail upon the sea?

VII

‘Be it wind, be it weet, be it hail, be it sleet, Our ship must sail the faem; The king’s daughter o’ Noroway, ’Tis we must fetch her hame.’

VIII

They hoysed their sails on Monenday morn Wi’ a’ the speed they may; They hae landed in Noroway Upon a Wodensday.

_II. The Return._

‘Mak ready, mak ready, my merry men a’! Our gude ship sails the morn.’-- ‘Now ever alack, my master dear, I fear a deadly storm.

‘I saw the new moon late yestreen Wi’ the auld moon in her arm; And if we gang to sea, master, I fear we’ll come to harm.’

They hadna sail’d a league, a league, A league but barely three, When the lift[465] grew dark, and the wind blew loud, And gurly grew the sea.

XII

The ankers brak, and the topmast lap[466], It was sic a deadly storm: And the waves cam owre the broken ship Till a’ her sides were torn.

XIII

‘O where will I get a gude sailor To tak’ my helm in hand, Till I get up to the tall topmast To see if I can spy land?’--

XIV

‘O here am I, a sailor gude, To tak’ the helm in hand, Till you go up to the tall topmast, But I fear you’ll ne’er spy land.’

He hadna gane a step, a step, A step but barely ane, When a bolt flew out of our goodly ship, And the saut sea it came in.

XVI

‘Go fetch a web o’ the silken claith, Another o’ the twine, And wap[467] them into our ship’s side, And let nae the sea come in.’

XVII

They fetch’d a web o’ the silken claith, Another o’ the twine, And they wapp’d them round that gude ship’s side, But still the sea came in.

XVIII

O laith, laith were our gude Scots lords To wet their cork-heel’d shoon; But lang or a’ the play was play’d They wat their hats aboon.

XIX

And mony was the feather bed That flatter’d[468] on the faem; And mony was the gude lord’s son That never mair cam hame.

O lang, lang may the ladies sit, Wi’ their fans into their hand, Before they see Sir Patrick Spens Come sailing to the strand!

XXI

And lang, lang may the maidens sit Wi’ their gowd kames[469] in their hair, A-waiting for their ain dear loves! For them they’ll see nae mair.

XXII

Half-owre, half-owre to Aberdour, ’Tis fifty fathoms deep; And there lies gude Sir Patrick Spens, Wi’ the Scots lords at his feet!

FOOTNOTES:

[464] skeely = skilful.

[465] lift = sky.

[466] lap = sprang.

[467] wap = wrap.

[468] flatter’d = tossed afloat.

[469] kames = combs.

_76. The Lord of Lorn_

It was the worthy Lord of Lorn, He was a lord of high degree; And he has set his one young son To school, to learn civility.

He learn’d more learning in one day Than other children did in three; And then bespake the schoolmaster, Unto the heir of Lorn said he:

III

‘In faith thou art the honestest boy That ere I blinkt on with mine e’e; I think thou be some easterling born, The Holy Ghost it is with thee.’

He said he was no easterling born, The child thus answer’d courteouslye: ‘My father he is the Lord of Lorn, And I his one young son, perdie.’

The schoolmaster turn’d round about, His angry mind he could not ’swage; He marvell’d the child could speak so wise, He being of so tender age.

He girt the saddle to the steed, A golden bridle done him upon; He took his leave of his schoolfellows, And home this Child of Lorn has gone.

VII

And when he came to his father dear He kneelèd down upon his knee: ‘God’s blessing, father, I would ask, If Christ would grant you to give it me.’--

VIII

‘Now God thee bless, my son, my heir, His servant in heaven that thou may be! What tidings hast thou brought me, child? Thou art comen home so hastilye.’--

‘Good tidings, father, I have you brought, Good tidings I hope it is to thee; There’s never a book in all Scotland But I can read it truëlye.’

A joyèd man his father was All in the place where he did stand: ‘My son, thou shalt go into France, To learn the speeches of ilka land.’

‘Who shall go with him?’ said his lady; ‘Husband, we have no more but he.’-- ‘Madam,’ he saith, ‘my hend[470] steward, For he hath been true to you and me.’

XII

She call’d the steward to an account, A thousand pound she gave him anon; Says, ‘Steward, I’ll give thee as mickle more If thou be as good to my one son.’--

XIII

‘If I be false unto my young lord, Then God be the like to me indeed!’ --So now to France they both are gone, And the God [of Heaven] be their good speed!

XIV

Over the sea into France land They had not been three weeks to an end, But meat and drink the child got none, Nor penny of money in purse to spend.

The child ran to a river’s side; He was fain to drink the water thin; And after follow’d the false steward To drown the bonny boy therein.

XVI

‘But nay, by Mary!’ said the child, He askèd mercy pitifullye; ‘Good Steward, let me have my life, And all I have I will give to thee!’

XVII

Mercy to him the steward did take, And pull’d the child out o’er the brim But, ever alack, the more pitye! He took his clothing even from him.

XVIII

Says, ‘Do thou me off that velvet gown, The crimson hose beneath thy knee, And do me off thy cordinant[471] shoon That are buckled with the gold so free.

XIX

‘Do thou me off thy satin doublèt, Thy shirtband wrought wi’ glisterin’ gold, And do me off thy golden chain About thy neck with many a fold.

‘And do me off thy velvet hat, With feather in it that is so fine; And all unto thy silken shirt, That’s work’d with many a golden seam.’

XXI

But when the child was naked stript, With skin as white as the lily flow’r, He might, for his body and his bewtie, Have been a princess’ paramour.

XXII

He put him in an old kelter[472] coat, And hose of the same above the knee, And he bade him go to a shepherd’s house, To tend sheep on a lonely lee.

XXIII

The child said, ‘What shall be my name? Prithee, good Steward, tell to me.’-- ‘Thy name shall be Poor Disaware, To tend sheep on a lonely lee.’

XXIV

The child came to the shepherd’s house-- O Lord! he weepèd pitifullye-- Says, ‘Do you not want a servant-boy, To tend your sheep on a lonely lee?’

XXV

‘I have no child,’ the shepherd said, ‘My boy, thou’st tarry and dwell with me; My living, my house, but and my goods, I’ll make thee heir of them all, perdie.’

XXVI

And then bespake the shepherd’s wife Unto the child so tenderlye: ‘Thou must take the sheep and go to the field, And tend them upon the lonely lee.’

XXVII

Now let us leave talk of the child That is tending sheep on the lonely lee, And we’ll talk more of the false steward, Of him and of his treacherye.

XXVIII

He bought himself a suit of apparel That any lord might a-seem’d to worn; He went a-wooing to the Duke’s daughter, And call’d himself the Lord of Lorn.

XXIX

The Duke he welcomed the [brisk] young lord With three baked stags and the Rhenish wine: If he had wist him the false steward, With the devil he’d have bade him dine.

XXX

But when they were at supper set With dainty delicates that was there, The Duke said, ‘If thou’lt wed my daughter I’ll give thee a thousand pound a year.’

XXXI

Then hand in hand the steward her took, And plight that lady his troth alone, That she should be his married wife, And he would make her the Lady of Lorn.

XXXII

The lady would see the roebuck run Up hills and dales and the forest free, When she was ’ware of a shepherd’s boy Was tending sheep on a lonely lee.

XXXIII

And ever he sigh’d and made his moan [Unto himself] most pitifullye, ‘My father is the Lord of Lorn, And knows not what’s become of me!’

XXXIV

O then bespake the lady gay And to her maid she spake anon, ‘Go fetch me hither yon shepherd’s boy: I’ll know why he doth make his moan.’

XXXV

But when he came to that lady fair He fell down low upon his knee; He was [of birth and] so brought up He needed not to learn courtesye.

XXXVI

‘What is thy name? Where wast thou born? For whose sake makest thou this moan?’-- ‘I am Poor Disaware, in Scotland born, And I mourn one dead these years agone.’--

XXXVII

‘Tell me [of Scotland], thou bonny child, Tell me the truth and do not lee: Knowest thou there the young Lord of Lorn? He is come into France a-wooing of me.’--

XXXVIII

‘Yes, that I do, madam,’ he said, ‘I know that lord, yea, verilye; The Lord of Lorn is a worthy lord, If he were at home in his own countrye.’--

XXXIX

‘Wilt leave thy sheep, thou bonny child, And come in service unto me?’-- ‘[I thank you, madam]; yea, forsooth, And at your bidding I will be.’

When the steward look’d upon the child He ’gan bewrail[473] him villainouslye: ‘Where wast thou born, thou vagabone? Thou art a thief, I will prove thee.’

XLI

‘Ha’ done! ha’ done!’ said the lady gay, ‘Peace, Lord of Lorn, I do pray thee! Without you bear him more good will, No favour will you get of me.’

XLII

O then bespake the false steward, ‘Believe me or no, I tell to thee, At Aberdonie, beyond the seas, His father robbèd thousands three.’

XLIII

But then bespake the Duke of France (The child was pleasant to his e’e), Says, ‘Boy, if thou love horses well, My groom of stables thou shalt be.’

XLIV

The child applied his office so well Till that twelve months drew to an end; He was so courteous and so true That every man became his friend.

XLV

He led a gelding forth one morning, To water him at the water so free-- The gelding up, and with his head He hit the child above the e’e.

XLVI

‘Woe worth thee, gelding!’ said the child, ‘Woe worth the mare that foalèd thee! Thou little knowest the Lord of Lorn: Thou’st stricken a lord of high degree.’

XLVII

The lady was in her garden green, And heard the child that made this moan: All weeping [straight] she ran to him And left her maidens all alone.

XLVIII

‘Sing on thy song, thou stable groom, I will release thee of thy pain.’-- ‘Nay, lady, I have made an oath; I dare not tell my tale again.’--

XLIX

‘Sing on thy song, then, to thy gelding, And so thy oath shall savèd be.’-- But when he told his horse the tale, O the lady wept full tenderlye.

She sent in for her father the Duke: ‘O sick I am, and like to dee! Put off my wedding, father,’ she said, ‘For the love of God, these monthës three.’

The lady she did write a letter Full speedily with her own hand; She has sent it to the Lord of Lorn Wheras he dwelt in fair Scotland.

LII

When the Lord of Lorn had read the letter His lady wept, Lord! bitterlye; ‘Peace, Lady of Lorn, for Christ his love! And wroken[474] upon him I will be.’

LIII

The old lord call’d up his merry men, And all that he gave cloth and fee, With seven lords to ride beside him, And into the land of France rides he.

LIV

The wind was good, and they did sail Five hundred men into France land, Till they were ’ware of the Heir of Lorn, Stood with a porter’s staff in ’s hand.

The lords then cast their hats into air, The serving-men fell on their knee. ‘What fools be yonder,’ said the steward, ‘That makes the porter courtesye?’

LVI

‘Thou’rt a false thief,’ said the Lord of Lorn, ‘[This child, thy master] to betray!’ And they set the castle round about, A swallow could not have flown away.

LVII

And when they had taken the false steward, By the law of France all hastilye A quest of lords there chosen was That judged this traitor he must dee.

LVIII

First they took him and hang’d him half, And then they lat him down anon, And quarter’d and put him in boiling lead, And there he was sodden, breast and bone.

LIX

O then bespake the Lord of Lorn, With many other lordës mo, ‘Sir Duke, if you be as willing as we, We’ll have a marriage before we go.’

But then bespake the Duke of France, Unto the Child of Lorn right there: Says, ‘Heir of Lorn, if thou’lt marry my daughter, I’ll mend thy living a thousand a year.’

LXI

But then bespake that Child of Lorn, And answer’d the Duke right merrilye: ‘I had rather have her with a ring of gold Than all the gold you can proffer to me.’

FOOTNOTES:

[470] hend = courteous.

[471] cordinant = of Cordovan leather.

[472] kelter = of undyed wool.

[473] bewrail = rail at.

[474] wroken = revenged.

_77. Edom o’ Gordon_

It fell about the Martinmas, When the wind blew shrill and cauld, Said Edom o’ Gordon to his men, ‘We maun draw to a hauld[475].

‘And what a hauld sall we draw to, My merry men and me? We will gae to the house o’ the Rodes, To see that fair ladye.’

III

The lady stood on her castle wa’, Beheld baith dale and down; There she was ’ware of a host of men Cam’ riding towards the town[476].

‘O see ye not, my merry men a’, O see ye not what I see? Methinks I see a host of men; I marvel wha they be.’

She ween’d it had been her lovely lord, As he cam riding hame; It was the traitor, Edom o’ Gordon, Wha reck’d nae sin nor shame.

She had nae sooner buskit[477] hersell, And putten on her gown, But Edom o’ Gordon an’ his men Were round about the town.

VII

They had nae sooner supper set, Nae sooner said the grace, But Edom o’ Gordon an’ his men Were lighted about the place.

VIII

The lady ran up to her tower-head, Sae fast as she could hie, To see if by her fair speeches She could wi’ him agree.

‘Come doun to me, ye lady gay, Come doun, come doun to me; This night sall ye lig within mine arms, To-morrow my bride sall be.’--

‘I winna come down, ye fals Gordon, I winna come down to thee; I winna forsake my ain dear lord, That is sae far frae me.’--

‘Gie owre your house, ye lady fair, Gie owre your house to me; Or I sall brenn yoursel’ therein, But and your babies three.’--

XII

‘I winna gie owre, ye fals Gordon, To nae sic traitor as yee; And if ye brenn my ain dear babes, My lord sall make ye dree[478].

XIII

‘Now reach my pistol, Glaud, my man, And charge ye weel my gun; For, but an I pierce that bluidy butcher, My babes, we been undone!’

XIV

She stood upon her castle wa’, And let twa bullets flee: She miss’d that bluidy butcher’s heart, And only razed his knee.

‘Set fire to the house!’ quo’ fals Gordon, All wud[479] wi’ dule and ire: ‘Fals lady, ye sall rue this deid As ye brenn in the fire!’--

XVI

‘Wae worth, wae worth ye, Jock, my man! I paid ye weel your fee; Why pu’ ye out the grund-wa’[480] stane, Lets in the reek to me?

XVII

‘And e’en wae worth ye, Jock, my man! I paid ye weel your hire; Why pu’ ye out the grund-wa’ stane, To me lets in the fire?’--

XVIII

‘Ye paid me weel my hire, ladye, Ye paid me weel my fee: But now I’m Edom o’ Gordon’s man, Maun either do or dee.’

XIX

O then bespake her little son, Sat on the nurse’s knee: Says, ‘Mither dear, gie owre this house, For the reek it smithers me.’--

‘I wad gie a’ my gowd, my bairn, Sae wad I a’ my fee, For ae blast o’ the western wind, To blaw the reek frae thee.’

XXI

O then bespake her dochter dear-- She was baith jimp[481] and sma’: ‘O row[482] me in a pair o’ sheets, And tow me owre the wa’!’

XXII

They row’d her in a pair o’ sheets, And tow’d her owre the wa’; But on the point o’ Gordon’s spear She gat a deadly fa’.

XXIII

O bonnie, bonnie was her mouth, And cherry were her cheiks, And clear, clear was her yellow hair, Whereon the red blood dreips.

XXIV

Then wi’ his spear he turn’d her owre; O gin her face was wane! He said, ‘Ye are the first that e’er I wish’d alive again.’

XXV

He turn’d her owre and owre again; O gin her skin was white! ‘I might hae spared that bonnie face To hae been some man’s delight.

XXVI

‘Busk and boun[483], my merry men a’, For ill dooms I do guess; I canna look in that bonnie face As it lies on the grass.’--

XXVII

‘Wha looks to freits[484], my master dear, It’s freits will follow them; Let it ne’er be said that Edom o’ Gordon Was daunted by a dame.’

XXVIII

But when the lady saw the fire Come flaming owre her head, She wept, and kiss’d her children twain, Says, ‘Bairns, we been but dead.’

XXIX

The Gordon then his bugle blew, And said, ‘Awa’, awa’! This house o’ the Rodes is a’ in a flame; I hauld it time to ga’.’

XXX

And this way lookit her ain dear lord, As he cam owre the lea; He saw his castle a’ in a lowe[485], As far as he could see.

XXXI

Then sair, O sair, his mind misgave, And all his heart was wae: ‘Put on, put on, my wighty[486] men, Sae fast as ye can gae.

XXXII

‘Put on, put on, my wighty men, Sae fast as ye can drie! For he that’s hindmost o’ the thrang Sall ne’er get good o’ me.’

XXXIII

Then some they rade, and some they ran, Out-owre the grass and bent; But ere the foremost could win up, Baith lady and babes were brent.

XXXIV

And after the Gordon he is gane, Sae fast as he might drie; And soon i’ the Gordon’s foul heart’s blude He’s wroken[487] his dear ladye.

FOOTNOTES:

[475] hauld = place of shelter.

[476] town = stead.

[477] buskit = attired.

[478] dree = suffer.

[479] wud = mad.

[480] grund-wa’ = ground-wall.

[481] jimp = slender, trim.

[482] row = wrap.

[483] Busk and boun = trim up and prepare to go.

[484] freits = ill omen.

[485] lowe = flame.

[486] wighty = sturdy, active.

[487] wroken = avenged.

_78. Lamkin_

It’s Lamkin was a mason good As ever built wi’ stane; He built Lord Wearie’s castle, But payment got he nane.

‘O pay me, Lord Wearie, Come, pay to me my fee.’-- ‘I canna pay you, Lamkin, For I maun gang o’er the sea.’--

III

‘O pay me now, Lord Wearie, Come, pay me out o’ hand.’-- ‘I canna pay you, Lamkin, Unless I sell my land.’--

‘O gin ye winna pay me, I here sall mak’ a vow Before that ye come hame again, Ye sall hae cause to rue.’

Lord Wearie got a bonny ship, To sail the saut sea faem; Bade his lady weel the castle keep, Ay till he should come hame.

‘Gae bar the doors,’ the lady said, ‘Gae well the windows pin; And what care I for Lamkin Or any of his gang?’

VII

But the nourice was a fause limmer[488] As e’er hung on a tree; She laid a plot wi’ Lamkin, Whan her lord was o’er the sea.

VIII

She laid a plot wi’ Lamkin, When the servants were awa’, Loot him in at a little shot-window[489], And brought him to the ha’.

‘O whare’s a’ the men o’ this house, That ca’ me the Lamkin?’-- ‘They’re at the barn-well thrashing; ’Twill be lang ere they come in.’--

‘And whare’s the women o’ this house, That ca’ me the Lamkin?’-- ‘They’re at the far well washing; ’Twill be lang ere they come in.’--

‘And whare’s the bairns o’ this house, That ca’ me the Lamkin?’-- ‘They’re at the school reading; ’Twill be night or they come hame.’--

XII

‘O whare’s the lady o’ this house, That ca’s me the Lamkin?’-- ‘She’s up in her bower sewing, But we soon can bring her down.’

XIII

Then Lamkin’s tane a sharp knife, That hung down by his gare[490], And he has gi’en the bonny babe A deep wound and a sair.

XIV

Then Lamkin he rockèd, And the fause nourice sang, Till frae ilka bore[491] o’ the cradle The red blood out sprang.

Then out it spak’ the lady, As she stood on the stair: ‘What ails my bairn, nourice, That he’s greeting[492] sae sair?

XVI

‘O still my bairn, nourice, O still him wi’ the pap!’-- ‘He winna still, lady, For this nor for that.’--

XVII

‘O still my bairn, nourice, O still him wi’ the wand!’-- ‘He winna still, lady, For a’ his father’s land.’--

XVIII

‘O still my bairn, nourice, O still him wi’ the bell!’-- ‘He winna still, lady, Till ye come down yoursel’.’--

XIX

O the firsten step she steppit, She steppit on a stane; But the neisten step she steppit, She met him Lamkin.

‘O mercy, mercy, Lamkin, Hae mercy upon me! Though you hae ta’en my young son’s life, Ye may let mysel’ be.’--

XXI

‘O sall I kill her, nourice, Or sall I lat her be?’-- ‘O kill her, kill her, Lamkin, For she ne’er was good to me.’--

XXII

‘O scour the bason, nourice, And mak’ it fair and clean, For to keep this lady’s heart’s blood, For she’s come o’ noble kin.’--

XXIII

‘There need nae bason, Lamkin, Lat it run through the floor; What better is the heart’s blood O’ the rich than o’ the poor?’

XXIV

But ere three months were at an end, Lord Wearie came again; But dowie[493], dowie was his heart When first he came hame.

XXV

‘O wha’s blood is this,’ he says, ‘That lies in the cham’er[494]?’-- ‘It is your lady’s heart’s blood; ’Tis as clear as the lamer[495].’--

XXVI

‘And wha’s blood is this,’ he says, ‘That lies in my ha’?’-- ‘It is your young son’s heart’s blood; ’Tis the clearest ava’[496].’

XXVII

O sweetly sang the black-bird That sat upon the tree; But sairer grat Lamkin, When he was condemn’d to dee.

XXVIII

And bonny sang the mavis Out o’ the thorny brake; But sairer grat the nourice, When she was tied to the stake.

FOOTNOTES:

[488] limmer = wretch, jade.

[489] shot-window = a window opening on a hinge.

[490] gare = a seam of the skirt.

[491] bore = hole, crevice.

[492] greeting = wailing, crying.

[493] dowie = heavy, sorrowful.

[494] cham’er = chamber.

[495] lamer = amber.

[496] ava’ = of all.

_79. Hugh of Lincoln_

_and The Jew’s Daughter_

A’ the boys of merry Lincoln Were playing at the ba’[497], And by it came him sweet Sir Hugh, And he play’d o’er them a’.

He kick’d the ba’ with his right foot, And catch’d it wi’ his knee, And thro’-and-thro’ the Jew’s window He gar’d the bonny ba’ flee.

III

He’s doen[498] him to the Jew’s castell, And walk’d it round about; And there he saw the Jew’s daughter At the window looking out.

‘Throw down the ba’, ye Jew’s daughter, Throw down the ba’ to me!’-- ‘Never a bit,’ says the Jew’s daughter, ‘Till up to me come ye.’--

‘How will I come up? How can I come up? How can I come up to thee? I winna come up, I darena come up, Without my play-feres[499] three.’

She’s ta’en her to the Jew’s garden, Where the grass grew long and green, She’s pu’d an apple red and white To wyle the pretty boy in.

VII

She’s wyled him in through ae dark door, And sae has she through nine; She’s laid him on a dressing table, And stickit him like a swine.

VIII

And first came out the thick, thick blood, And syne came out the thin, And syne came out the bonny heart’s blood; There was no more within.

She’s row’d[500] him in a cake o’ lead, Bade him lie still and sleep; She’s thrown him into Our Lady’s draw-well, Was fifty fathom deep.

When bells were rung, and mass was sung, And a’ the bairns came hame, Then every lady had hame her son, But Lady Helen had nane.

She’s ta’en her mantle her about, Her coffer by the hand, And she’s gone out to seek her son, And wander’d o’er the land.

XII

She’s doen her to the Jew’s castell Where a’ were fast asleep; Cries, ‘Bonnie Sir Hugh, O pretty Sir Hugh, I pray you to me speak!’

XIII

She near’d Our Lady’s deep draw-well, And fell down on her knee: ‘Where’er ye be, my sweet Sir Hugh, I pray you speak to me!’--

XIV

‘O the lead is wondrous heavy, mother, The well is wondrous deep; The little penknife sticks in my throat, And I downa[501] to ye speak.

‘Gae hame, gae hame, my mither dear, Prepare my winding sheet, And at the back o’ merry Lincoln The morn I will you meet.’

XVI

Now Lady Helen is gane hame, Made him a winding sheet, And at the back o’ merry Lincoln The dead corpse did her meet.

XVII

And a’ the bells o’ merry Lincoln Without men’s hands were rung; And a’ the books o’ merry Lincoln Were read without man’s tongue; And never was such a burial Sin’ Adam’s day begun.

FOOTNOTES:

[497] ba’ = ball, football.

[498] doen = betaken.

[499] play-feres = playfellows.

[500] row’d = wrapped.

[501] downa = cannot, have not the force to.

_80. The Heir of Linne_

The bonny heir, and the well-faur’d[502] heir, The weary heir o’ Linne-- Yonder he stands at his father’s yetts[503], And naebody bids him in.

‘O see for he gangs, and see for he stands, The unthrifty heir o’ Linne! O see for he stands on the cauld causey[504], And nane bids him come in!’

III

His father and mother were dead him fro’, And so was the head o’ his kin; To the cards and dice that he did run, Did neither cease nor blin[505].

To drink the wine that was so clear With all he would mak’ merrye; And then bespake him John o’ the Scales, To the heir of Linne said he:

‘How doest thou, thou Lord of Linne Doest want or gold or fee? Wilt thou not sell thy lands so broad To such a good fellow as me?’

He told the gold upon the board, Wanted never a bare pennye: ‘The gold is thine, the land is mine, The heir of Linne I will be.’

VII

‘Here’s gold enow,’ saith the heir of Linne, ‘For me and my companye.’ He drank the wine that was so clear, And with all he made merrye.

VIII

Within three quarters of a year His gold it waxèd thin; His merry men were from him gone, Bade him, ‘To the de’il ye’se gang!’

‘Now well-a-day!’ said the heir of Linne, ‘I have left not one pennye. God be with my father!’ he said, ‘On his land he lived merrilye.’

His nourice at her window look’d, Beholding dale and down, And she beheld this distress’d young man Come walking to the town.

‘O see for he gangs, and see for he stands, The weary heir o’ Linne! O see for he stands on the cauld causey, And nane bids him come in!’--

XII

‘Sing owre again that sang, nourice, The sang ye sung just now.’-- ‘I never sung a sang i’ my life But I would sing owre to you.

XIII

‘Come here, come here, Willy,’ she said, ‘And rest yoursel’ wi’ me; I hae seen you in better days, And in jovial companye.’--

XIV

‘Gie me a sheave[506] o’ your bread, nourice, And a bottle o’ your wine, And I will pay it you owre again When I am Lord of Linne.’--

‘Ye’se get a sheave o’ my bread, Willy, And a bottle o’ my wine; But ye’ll pay me when the seas gang dry, For ye’ll ne’er be Lord o’ Linne.’

XVI

Then he turn’d him right and round about, As will a woman’s son, And aff he set and bent his way And cam’ to the house o’ Linne.

XVII

But when he cam’ to that castle, They were set down to dine; A score of nobles there he saw, Sat drinking at their wine.

XVIII

Then some bade gie him beef and fish, And some but bane and fin, And some bade gie him naething at a’, But let the palmer gang.

XIX

Then out it speaks him John o’ Scales, A saucy word spak’ he: ‘Put round the cup, give the beggar a sup, Let him fare on his way.’

Then out it speaks Sir Ned Magnew, Ane o’ young Willy’s kin: ‘This youth was ance a sprightly boy As ever lived in Linne.’

XXI

He turn’d him right and round about, As will a woman’s son, Then minded him on a little wee key That his mother left to him.

XXII

His mother left him this little wee key A little before she deed; And bade him keep this little wee key Till he was in maist need.

XXIII

Then forth he went, these nobles left All drinking in the room; Wi’ walking rod intill his hand He walk’d the castle roun’:

XXIV

Till that he found a little door, And therein slipp’d the key; And there he found three chests in fere[507] Of the red and the white monie.

XXV

Back then through the nobles a’ He went and did not blin, Until he cam’ where John o’ the Scales Was seated [at the wine].

XXVI

Then out and spake it John o’ Scales, He spake wi’ mock and jeer: ‘I’d gie a seat to the Lord o’ Linne If sae be that he were here.

XXVII

‘When the lands o’ Linne a-selling were A’ men said they were free; I will sell them twenty pound better cheap Nor ever I bought of thee.’--

XXVIII

‘I tak’ ye to witness, nobles a’!’ --He cast him a God’s pennye[508]-- ‘I will buy them twenty pound better cheap Nor ever he bought of me.’

XXIX

He’s done him to the gaming-table, For it stood fair and clean; And there he’s tould as much rich gold As free’d the lands o’ Linne.

XXX

He told the gold there over the board, Wanted never a broad pennye; ‘The gold is thine, the land is mine, Lord o’ Linne again I’ll be.’

XXXI

‘Well-a-day!’ said John o’ the Scales’ wife, ‘Well-a-day, and woe is me! Yesterday I was the Lady o’ Linne, And now I’m a naebodye!’

XXXII

But ‘Fare thee well,’ said the heir of Linne, ‘Now John o’ the Scales!’ said he: ‘A curse light on me if ever again My lands be in jeopardye!’

FOOTNOTES:

[502] well-faur’d = well favoured.

[503] yetts = gates.

[504] causey = causeway, pavement.

[505] blin = stint, check.

[506] sheave = slice.

[507] in fere = together.

[508] God’s pennye = earnest or luck-penny.

_81. Fair Mary of Wallington_

When we were silly sisters seven, --Sisters were so fair,-- Five of us were brave knights’ wives, And died in childbed lair[509].

Up then spake Fair Mary, Marry wou’d she nane; If ever she came in man’s bed, The same gate[510] wad she gang.

III

‘Make no vows, Fair Mary, For fear they broken be; Here’s been the Knight of Wallington, Asking good will of thee.’--

‘If here’s been the knight, mother, Asking good will of me, Within three quarters of a year You may come bury me.’

But when she came to Wallington, And into Wallington hall, There she spy’d her [lord’s] mother, Walking about the wall.

‘You’re welcome, welcome, daughter dear, To thy castle and thy bowers.’-- ‘I thank you kindly, mother, I hope they’ll soon be yours.’

VII

She had not been in Wallington Three quarters and a day, Till upon the ground she could not walk, She was a weary prey.

VIII

She had not been in Wallington Three quarters and a night, Till on the ground she could not walk, She was a weary wight.

‘Is there ne’er a boy into this town, Who’ll win him hose and shoon, That will run to fair Paddington, And bid my mother come?’

Up then spake a little boy, Near unto her a-kin: ‘Full oft I have your errands gone, But now I will it run.’

Then she call’d her waiting-maid To bring up bread and wine: ‘Eat and drink, my bonny boy, Thou’ll ne’er eat more of mine.

XII

‘Give my respects to my mother, She sits in her chair of stone, And ask her how she likes the news, Of seven to have but one?

XIII

‘Give my respects to my mother, As she sits in her chair of oak, And bid her come to my sickening, Or my merry lake-wake[511].

XIV

‘Give my love to my brothers William, Ralph, and John, And to my sister Betty fair, And to her white as bone:

‘And bid her keep her maidenhead, Be sure [to keep it lang:] For if e’er she come into man’s bed, The same gate will she gang.’

XVI

Away this little boy is gone, As fast as he could run; When he came where brigs were broke, He laid him down and swum.

XVII

When he saw the lady, he said, ‘Lord may your keeper be!’-- ‘What news, my pretty boy, Hast thou to tell to me?’--

XVIII

‘Your daughter Mary orders me As you sit in a chair of stone, To ask you how you like the news, Of seven to have but one?

XIX

‘Your daughter gives you her commands, As you sit in a chair of oak, And bids you come to her sickening, Or her merry lake-wake.

‘She gives command to her brothers William, Ralph, and John, [And] to her sister Betty fair, And to her white as bone.

XXI

‘She bids her keep her maidenhead, Be sure [to keep it lang:] For if e’er she come into man’s bed, The same gate will she gang.’

XXII

She kickt the table with her foot, She kickt it with her knee, The silver plate into the fire, So far she made it flee.

XXIII

Then she call’d her waiting-maid To bring her riding-hood, So did she on her stable-groom To bring her riding-steed.

XXIV

‘Go saddle to me the black, the black, Go saddle to me the brown, Go saddle to me the swiftest steed That e’er rid to Wallington!’

XXV

When they came to Wallington, And into Wallington hall, There she spy’d her son Fenwick, Walking about the wall.

XXVI

‘God save you, my dearest son, Lord may your keeper be! Tell me where is my daughter fair, That used to walk with thee?’

XXVII

He turn’d his head him round about, The tears did fill his e’e: ‘’Tis a month,’ he said, ‘since Fair Mary Took her chambers from me.’

XXVIII

She went on [to her daughter’s chamber]; And there were in the hall Four and twenty ladies, Letting the tears down fall.

XXIX

Her daughter had a scope[512] into Her cheek and eke her chin, All to keep in her dear life Till her dear mother came.

XXX

‘Come take the rings off my fingers, The skin it is so white, And give them to my mother dear, For she was all the wyte[513].

XXXI

‘Come take the rings off my fingers, The veins they are so red, Give them to Sir William Fenwick, I’m sure his heart will bleed.’

XXXII

Then she took out a razor That was both sharp and fine, And out of her left side she has taken The heir of Wallington.

XXXIII

There is a race in Wallington, And that I rue full sare; Tho’ the cradle it be full spread up, The bride-bed is left bare.

FOOTNOTES:

[509] lair = lying-in.

[510] gate = way.

[511] lake-wake = lyke-wake, corpse-watching.

[512] scope = bandage, gag.

[513] wyte = blame, cause of trouble.

_82. Young Waters_

About Yule, when the wind blew cule, And the round tables began, O there is come to our King’s court Mony a well-favor’d man.

The Queen luikt owre the castle-wa’ Beheld baith dale and down, And there she saw Young Waters Come riding to the town.

III

His footmen they did rin before, His horsemen rade behind; Ane mantel of the burning gowd Did keip him frae the wind.

Gowden-graith’d[514] his horse before, And siller-shod behind; The horse Young Waters rade upon Was fleeter than the wind.

Out then spak’ a wylie lord, Unto the Queen said he: ‘O tell me wha’s the fairest face Rides in the company?’--

‘I’ve sene lord, and I’ve sene laird, And knights of high degree, Bot a fairer face than Young Waters’ Mine eyne did never see.’

VII

Out then spake the jealous King, And an angry man was he: ‘O if he had bin twice as fair, You micht have excepted me.’

VIII

‘You’re neither laird nor lord,’ she says, ‘But the King that wears the crown; There is not a knight in fair Scotland But to thee maun bow down.’

For a’ that she cou’d do or say, Appeas’d he wad nae bee, But for the words which she had said, Young Waters he maun dee.

They hae ta’en Young Waters, And put fetters to his feet; They hae ta’en Young Waters, and Thrown him in dungeon deep.

‘Aft have I ridden thro’ Stirling town, In the wind but and the weet; But I neir rade thro’ Stirling town Wi’ fetters at my feet.

XII

‘Aft have I ridden thro’ Stirling town, In the wind but and the rain; But I neir rade thro’ Stirling town Neir to return again.’

XIII

They hae ta’en to the heiding-hill[515] His young son in his craddle; And they hae ta’en to the heiding-hill His horse but and his saddle.

XIV

They hae ta’en to the heiding-hill His lady fair to see; And for the words the Queen had spoke Young Waters he did dee.

FOOTNOTES:

[514] graith’d = harnessed.

[515] heiding-hill = beheading mound.

_83. The Queen’s Marie_

Marie Hamilton’s to the kirk gane, Wi’ ribbons in her hair; The King thought mair o’ Marie Hamilton Than ony that were there.

Marie Hamilton’s to the kirk gane Wi’ ribbons on her breast; The King thought mair o’ Marie Hamilton Than he listen’d to the priest.

III

Marie Hamilton’s to the kirk gane, Wi’ gloves upon her hands; The King thought mair o’ Marie Hamilton Than the Queen and a’ her lands.

She hadna been about the King’s court A month, but barely ane, Till she was beloved by a’ the King’s court, And the King the only man.

She hadna been about the King’s court A month, but barely three, Till frae the King’s court Marie Hamilton, Marie Hamilton durstna be.

The King is to the Abbey gane, To pu’ the Abbey tree, To scale[516] the babe frae Marie’s heart; But the thing it wadna be.

VII

O she has row’d[517] it in her apron, And set it on the sea-- ‘Gae sink ye or swim ye, bonny babe, Ye’se get nae mair o’ me.’

VIII

Word is to the kitchen gane, And word is to the ha’, And word is to the noble room Amang the ladies a’, That Marie Hamilton’s brought to bed, And the bonny babe’s miss’d and awa’.

Scarcely had she lain down again, And scarcely fa’en asleep, When up and started our gude Queen Just at her bed-feet; Saying--‘Marie Hamilton, where’s your babe? For I am sure I heard it greet[518].’--

‘O no, O no, my noble Queen! Think no sic thing to be; ’Twas but a stitch into my side, And sair it troubles me!’--

‘Get up, get up, Marie Hamilton: Get up and follow me; For I am going to Edinburgh town, A rich wedding for to see.’

XII

O slowly, slowly rase she up, And slowly put she on; And slowly rade she out the way Wi’ mony a weary groan.

XIII

The Queen was clad in scarlet, Her merry maids all in green; And every town that they cam to, They took Marie for the Queen.

XIV

‘Ride hooly[519], hooly, gentlemen, Ride hooly now wi’ me! For never, I am sure, a wearier burd Rade in your companie.’

But little wist Marie Hamilton, When she rade on the brown, That she was gaen to Edinburgh town, And a’ to be put down.

XVI

‘Why weep ye sae, ye burgess wives, Why look ye sae on me? O I am going to Edinburgh town, A rich weddìng to see.’

XVII

When she gaed up the tolbooth stairs, The corks frae her heels did flee; And lang or e’er she cam down again, She was condemn’d to die.

XVIII

When she cam to the Netherbow port, She laugh’d loud laughters three; But when she came to the gallows foot The tears blinded her e’e.

XIX

‘Yestreen the Queen had four Maries, The night she’ll hae but three; There was Marie Seaton, and Marie Beaton, And Marie Carmichael, and me.

‘O often have I dress’d my Queen, And put gowd upon her hair; But now I’ve gotten for my reward The gallows to be my share.

XXI

‘Often have I dress’d my Queen And often made her bed; But now I’ve gotten for my reward The gallows tree to tread.

XXII

‘I charge ye all, ye mariners, When ye sail owre the faem, Let neither my father nor mother get wit But that I’m coming hame.

XXIII

‘I charge ye all, ye mariners, That sail upon the sea, That neither my father nor mother get wit The dog’s death I’m to die.

XXIV

‘For if my father and mother got wit, And my bold brethren three, O mickle wad be the gude red blude This day wad be spilt for me!

XXV

‘O little did my mother ken, The day she cradled me, The lands I was to travel in Or the death I was to die!’

FOOTNOTES:

[516] scale = drive away, get rid of.

[517] row’d = wrapped.

[518] greet = wail, cry.

[519] hooly = gently.

_84. The Outlaw Murray_

Ettrick Forest is a fair forest, In it grows many a seemly tree; There’s hart and hind, and dae and rae, And of a’ wild beasts great plentie.

There’s a castle, bigg’d[520] wi’ lime and stane; O gif it stands not pleasantlie! In the fore-front o’ that castle fair, Twa unicorns are bra’ to see; There’s the picture of a knight, and a lady bright, And the green hollìn[521] abune their bree[522].

III

There an Outlaw keeps five hundred men, He keeps a royal companie, His merry men are a’ in ae livery clad, O’ the Lincoln green sae gay to see; He and his lady in purple clad, O gin they live not royallie!

Word is gane to our noble King, In Edinburgh where that he lay, That there was an Outlaw in Ettrick Forest, Counted him nought, nor his courtrie[523] gay.

‘I make a vow,’ then the gude King said, ‘Unto the Man that dear bought me, I’se either be King of Ettrick Forest, Or King of Scotland that Outlaw’s be!’

Then spake the Earl hight Hamilton, And to the noble King said he, ‘My sovereign prince, some counsel take, First at your nobles, syne at me.

VII

‘I rede[524] ye, send yon braw Outlaw till, And see gif your man come will he: Desire him come and be your man, And hold of you yon forest free.

VIII

‘Gif he refuses to do that, We’ll conquess baith his lands and he! Or else we’ll throw his castle down, And mak’ a widow o’ his gay ladye.’

The King call’d on a gentleman, James Boyd (the Earl of Arran his brother was he); When James he came before the King, He kneel’d before him on his knee.

‘Welcome, James Boyd!’ said our noble King, ‘A message ye maun gang for me: Ye maun hie to Ettrick Forest, To yon Outlàw, where dwelleth he.

‘Ask him of whom he holds his lands, Or man wha may his master be, And desire him come and be my man, And hold of me yon forest free.

XII

‘To Edinburgh to come and gang, A safe warrànt I sall him gie; And gif he refuses to do that, We’ll conquess baith his lands and he.

XIII

‘Thou mayst vow I’ll cast his castle down, And mak’ a widow o’ his gay ladye; I’ll hang his merry men, pair by pair, In ony frith[525] where I may them see.’

XIV

James Boyd took his leave o’ the noble King, To Ettrick Forest fair cam’ he; Down Birkendale Brae when that he cam’, He saw the fair forest wi’ his e’e.

Baith dae and rae, and hart and hin’, And of a’ wild beasts great plentie; He heard the bows that boldly ring, And arrows whidderand[526] him near by.

XVI

Of that fair castle he got a sight; The like he ne’er saw wi’ his e’e! On the fore-front o’ that castle fair, Twa unicorns were bra’ to see; The picture of a knight, and lady bright, And the green hollìn abune their bree.

XVII

Thereat he spyed five hundred men, Shooting with bows on Newark Lee; They were a’ in ae livery clad, O’ the Lincoln green sae gay to see.

XVIII

His men were a’ clad in the green, The knight was armèd cap-a-pie, With a bended bow, on a milkwhite steed; And I wot they rank’d right bonnilie.

XIX

Thereby Boyd kend he was master man, And servèd him in his ain degree: ‘God mote thee save, brave Outlaw Murray! Thy ladye, and all thy chivalrie!’-- ‘Marry, thou’s welcome, gentleman, Some king’s messenger thou seems to be.’--

‘The King of Scotland sent me here, And, gude Outlàw, I am sent to thee; I wad wot of whom ye hold your lands, Or man wha may thy master be?’--

XXI

‘Thir lands are mine,’ the Outlaw said; ‘I own nae king in Christentie; Frae Soudron[527] I this forest wan, When the King nor his knights were not to see.’--

XXII

‘He desires you’ll come to Edinburgh, And hauld of him this forest free; And, gif ye refuse to do this thing, He’ll conquess baith thy lands and thee. He hath vow’d to cast thy castle down, And mak’ a widow o’ thy gay ladye;

XXIII

‘He’ll hang thy merry men, pair by pair, In ony frith where he may them find.’-- ‘Ay, by my troth!’ the Outlaw said, ‘Than wad I think me far behind.

XXIV

‘Ere the King my fair country get, This land that’s nativest to me, Mony o’ his nobles sall be cauld, Their ladies sall be right wearíe.’

XXV

Then spak’ his lady, fair of face: She said, ‘’Twere without consent of me, That an outlaw suld come before a King; I am right rad[528] of treasonrie. Bid him be gude to his lords at hame, For Edinburgh my lord sall never see.’

XXVI

James Boyd took his leave o’ the Outlaw keen, To Edinboro’ boun’ is he; When James he cam’ before the King, He kneelèd lowly on his knee.

XXVII

‘Welcome, James Boyd!’ said our noble King, ‘What forest is Ettrick Forest free?’-- ‘Ettrick Forest is the fairest forest That ever man saw wi’ his e’e.

XXVIII

‘There’s the dae, the rae, the hart, the hin’, And of a’ wild beasts great plentie; There’s a pretty castle of lime and stane, O gif it stands not pleasantlie!

XXIX

‘There’s in the fore-front o’ that castle Twa unicorns, sae bra’ to see, There’s the picture of a knight, and a lady bright, Wi’ the green hollìn abune their bree.

XXX

‘There the Outlaw keeps five hundred men, He keeps a royal companie; His merry men in ae livery clad, O’ the Lincoln green sae gay to see: He and his lady in purple clad; O gin they live not royallie!

XXXI

‘He says, yon forest is his ain, He wan it frae the Soudronie; Sae as he wan it, sae will he keep it, Contrair all kings in Christentie.’--

XXXII

‘Gar warn me Perthshire, and Angus baith, Fife, up and down, and Lothians three, And graith[529] my horse,’ said our noble King, ‘For to Ettrick Forest hie will I me.’

XXXIII

Then word is gane the Outlaw till, In Ettrick Forest, where dwelleth he, That the King was comand to Ettrick Forest, To conquess baith his lands and he.

XXXIV

‘I mak’ a vow,’ the Outlaw said, ‘I mak’ a vow, and that trulie: Were there but three men to tak’ my part, Yon King’s coming full dear suld be!’

XXXV

Then messengers he callèd forth, And bade them hie them speedilye: ‘Ane of ye gae to Halliday, The Laird of the Corehead is he.

XXXVI

‘He certain is my sister’s son; Bid him come quick and succour me; The King comes on for Ettrick Forest, And landless men we a’ will be.’--

XXXVII

‘What news? what news?’ said Halliday, ‘Man, frae thy master unto me?’-- ‘Not as ye would; seeking your aid; The King’s his mortal enemie.’--

XXXVIII

‘Ay, by my troth!’ said Hailiday, ‘Even for that it repenteth me; For gif he lose fair Ettrick Forest, He’ll tak’ fair Moffatdale frae me.

XXXIX

‘I’ll meet him wi’ five hundred men, And surely mair, if mae may be; And before he gets the forest fair, We a’ will die on Newark Lee!’

The Outlaw call’d a messenger, And bid him hie him speedilye To Andrew Murray of Cockpool: ‘That man’s a dear cousin to me; Desire him come and mak’ me aid With a’ the power that he may be.’

XLI

‘It stands me hard,’ Andrew Murray said, ‘Judge gif it stand na hard wi’ me; To enter against a king wi’ crown, And set my lands in jeopardie! Yet, if I come not on the day, Surely at night he sall me see.’

XLII

To Sir James Murray of Traquair, A message came right speedilie: ‘What news? what news?’ James Murray said, ‘Man, frae thy master unto me?’--

XLIII

‘What needs I tell? for weel ye ken The King’s his mortal enemie; And now he is coming to Ettrick Forest, And landless men ye a’ will be.’

XLIV

‘And, by my troth,’ James Murray said, ‘Wi’ that Outlaw will I live and dee; The King has gifted my lands lang syne-- It cannot be nae warse wi’ me.’

XLV

The King was comand thro’ Cadden Ford, And full five thousand men was he; They saw the dark forest them before, They thought it awsome for to see.

XLVI

Then spak’ the Earl hight Hamilton, And to the noble King said he, ‘My sovereign prince, some counsel tak’, First at your nobles, syne at me.

XLVII

‘Desire him meet thee at Permanscore, And bring four in his companie; Five earls sall gang yoursell before, Gude cause that you suld honour’d be.

XLVIII

‘And, gif he refuses to do that, With fire and sword we’ll follow thee; There sall never a Murray, after him, Hold land in Ettrick Forest free.’

XLIX

The King then call’d a gentleman, Royal banner-bearer there was he, James Hope Pringle of Torsonse by name; He cam’ and kneel’d upon his knee.

‘Welcome, James Pringle of Torsonse! A message ye maun gae for me: Ye maun gae to yon Outlaw Murray, Surely where boldly bideth he.

‘Bid him meet me at Permanscore, And bring four in his companie; Five earls sall come mysell before, Gude reason I suld honour’d be.

LII

‘And gif he refuses to do that, Bid him look for nae good o’ me; There sall never a Murray, after him, Have land in Ettrick Forest free.’

LIII

James cam’ before the Outlaw keen, And servèd him in his ain degree.-- ‘Welcome, James Pringle of Torsonse! What message frae the King to me?’--

LIV

‘He bids ye meet him at Permanscore, And bring four in your company; Five earls shall gang himsell before, Nae mair in number will he be.

‘And gif you refuse to do that, (I freely here upgive wi’ thee,) He’ll cast your bonny castle down, And mak’ a widow o’ your gay ladye. There will never a Murray, after thysell, Have land in Ettrick Forest free.’--

LVI

‘It stands me hard,’ the Outlaw said, ‘Judge gif it stands na hard wi’ me: What reck o’ the losing of mysell?-- But a’ my offspring after me!

LVII

‘Auld Halliday, young Halliday, Ye sall be twa to gang wi’ me; Andrew Murray, and Sir James Murray, We’ll be nae mae in companie.’

LVIII

When that they cam’ before the King, They fell before him on their knee: ‘Grant mercy, mercy, noble King! E’en for his sake that dyed on tree.’

LIX

‘Siccan[530] like mercy sall ye have; On gallows ye sall hangit be!’-- ‘Over God’s forbode,’ quoth the Outlaw then, ‘I hope your grace will better be! Else, ere you come to Edinburgh port, I trow thin guarded sall ye be.

‘Thir lands of Ettrick Forest fair, I wan them from the enemie; Like as I wan them, sae will I keep them, Contrair a’ kings in Christentie.’

LXI

All the nobles the King about, Said pity it were to see him dee. ‘Yet grant me mercy, sovereign prince, Extend your favour unto me!

LXII

‘I’ll give thee the keys of my castell, Wi’ the blessing o’ my gay ladye, Gin thou’lt make me sheriff of this forest, And a’ my offspring after me.’--

LXIII

‘Wilt thou give me the keys of thy castell, Wi’ the blessing of thy gay ladye? I’se make thee sheriff of Ettrick Forest, Surely while upward grows the tree; If you be not traitor to the King, Forfaulted[531] sall thou never be.’

LXIV

‘But, Prince, what sall come o’ my men? When I gae back, traitor they’ll ca’ me. I had rather lose my life and land, Ere my merry men rebukèd me.’--

LXV

‘Will your merry men amend their lives, An’ a’ their pardons I grant thee? Now, name thy lands where’er they lie, And here I render them to thee.’--

LXVI

‘Fair Philiphaugh is mine by right, And Lewinshope still mine shall be; Newark, Foulshiells, and Tinnès baith, My bow and arrow purchased me.

LXVII

‘And I have native steads to me, The Newark Lee and Hanginshaw; I have mony steads in Ettrick Forest, But them by name I dinna knaw.’

LXVIII

The keys of the castle he gave the King, Wi’ the blessing o’ his fair ladye; He was made sheriff of Ettrick Forest, Surely while upward grows the tree; And if he was na traitor to the King, Forfaulted he suld never be.

LXIX

Wha ever heard, in ony times, Siccan an outlaw in his degree Sic favour get before a King, As did Outlaw Murray of the forest free?

FOOTNOTES:

[520] bigg’d = built.

[521] hollin = holly.

[522] bree = brow.

[523] courtrie = courtiers.

[524] rede = advise.

[525] frith = wood.

[526] whidderand = whizzing.

[527] Soudron = Southron, English.

[528] rad = afraid.

[529] graith = harness.

[530] siccan = such.

[531] Forfaulted = forfeited.

_85. Glenlogie_

Four-and-twenty nobles rade to the King’s ha’, But bonny Glenlogie was the flow’r o’ them a’.

Lady Jeanie Melville cam’ trippin’ down the stair; When she saw Glenlogie her hairt it grew sair.

III

She call’d to the footman that ran by his side: Says, ‘What is your lord’s name, an’ where does he bide?’--

‘His name is Glenlogie when he is from home: He’s of the gay Gordons, his name it is John.’--

‘Glenlogie, Glenlogie, an you will prove kind, My love is laid on you; I am tellin’ my mind.’--

He turn’d about lightly, as the Gordons do a’; Says, ‘I thank you, Lady Jeanie, but I’m promised awa’.’

VII

She call’d on her maidens her bed for to make, Her rings from her fingers she did them a’ break.

VIII

‘Where will I get a bonny boy, to win hose and shoon, To go to Glenlogie and bid Logie come?’

When Glenlogie got the letter, amang noblemen, ‘I wonder,’ said Glenlogie, ‘what does young women mean?

‘I wonder i’ the warld what women see at me, That bonny Jeanie Melville for my sake shou’d dee?

‘O what is my lineage, or what is my make, That bonny Jeanie Melville shou’d dee for my sake?

XII

‘Go saddle my black horse, go saddle him soon, Till I ride to Bethelnie, to see Lady Jean!’

XIII

When he came to Bethelnie, he rade round about, And he saw Jeanie’s father at the window look out.

XIV

When he came to the gateway, small mirth was there; But was weepin’ and wailin’, a’ tearin’ their hair.

O pale and wan look’d she when Glenlogie came ben, But red ruddy grew she whene’er he sat down.

XVI

‘Turn round Jeanie Melville, turn round to this side, And I’ll be the bridegroom, and you’ll be the bride!’

XVII

O ’twas a merry weddin’, and the portion down told, Of bonny Jeanie Melville, scarce sixteen years old!

_86. Lady Elspat_

‘O brent’s[532] your brow, my Lady Elspat; O gowden yellow is your hair! Of a’ the maids o’ fair Scotland There’s nane like Lady Elspat fair.’

‘Perform your vows,’ she says, ‘Sweet William; The vows which ye ha’ made to me; And at the back o’ my mither’s castle This night I’ll surely meet wi’ thee.’

III

But wae be to her brother’s page, Wha heard the words this twa did say! He’s tauld them to her lady mither, Wha wrought Sweet William mickle wae.

For she’s ta’en him, Sweet William, And she’s gar’d bind him wi’s bow-string. Till the red blood o’ his fair body Frae ilka nail o’ his hand did spring.

O it fell ance upon a time That the Lord Justice came to town; Out she has ta’en him, Sweet William, Brought him before the Lord Justice boun’.

‘And what is the crime now, madame,’ he says, ‘Has been committed by this young man?’-- ‘O he has broken my bonny castle, That was well biggit[533] wi’ lime and stane.

VII

‘And he has broken my bonny coffers, That was well bandit[534] wi’ aiken[535] ban’; And he has stolen my rich jewels; I wot he has them every ane.’

VIII

Then out it spak’ her Lady Elspat As she sat by the Lord Justice’ knee: ‘Now ye hae tauld your tale, mither, I pray, Lord Justice, you’ll now hear me.

‘He hasna broken her bonny castle, That was well biggit wi’ lime and stane; Nor has he stolen her rich jewels, For I wot she has them every one.

‘But tho’ he was my first true love, And tho’ I had sworn to be his bride, ’Cause he had not a great estate She would this way our loves divide.’

Then out it spak’ the Lord Justice (I wot the tear was in his e’e): ‘I see nae fault in this young man; Sae loose his bands, and set him free.

XII

‘Tak’ back your love now, Lady Elspat, And my best blessing you baith upon! For gin he be your first true love, He is my eldest sister’s son.

XIII

‘There is a steed within my stable Cost me baith gowd and white monèy; Ye’se get as mickle o’ my free land As he’ll ride about in a summer’s day.’

FOOTNOTES:

[532] brent = straight, smooth.

[533] biggit = built.

[534] bandit = bound.

[535] aiken = oaken.

_87. Jamie Douglas_

I was a lady of high renown As ever lived in the north countrie; I was a lady of high renown When the Earl Douglas luvèd me.

And when we came through Glasgow toun, We were a comely sight to see; My gude lord in the black velvèt, And I mysel’ in cramasie[536].

III

But when we came to Douglas toun, We were a fine sight to behold: My gude lord in the cramasie And I mysel’ in the shining gold.

And when that my auld[537] son was born And set upon his nurse’s knee, I was happy a woman as e’er was born, And my gude lord he luvèd me.

But O an my young son was born And set upon his nurse’s knee And I mysel’ were dead and gane, For a maid again I’ll never be!

There cam’ a man into this house, And Jamie Lockhart was his name, And it was told to my gude lord That I was owre in love wi’ him.

VII

O wae be unto thee, Blackwòod, And ae an ill death may ye dee! For ye was the first and foremost man That parted my gude lord and me.

VIII

I sent a word to my gude lord, ‘Come down, and sit, and dine wi’ me, And I’ll set thee on a chair of gowd, And a siller towel on thy knee.’--

‘When cockle-shells turn silver bells, And mussell grow on every tree, When frost and snow turns fire to burn, Then I’ll sit down and dine wi’ thee.’

When that my father he had word That my gude lord had forsaken me, He sent a fifty brisk dragoons To fetch me home to my ain countrie.

‘Fare thee well, my Jamie Douglas! Fare thee well, ever dear to me! But O, an my young babe were born And set upon some nourice’ knee!

XII

‘And fare thee well, my pretty palace! And fare ye well, my children three! God grant your father grace to be kind, More kind to you than he was to me!’

XIII

Then slowly, slowly rase I up, But quickly, quickly he cam’ doun, And when he saw me sit in my coach, He made his drums and trumpets sound.

XIV

When we cam’ in by Edinbro’ town, My father and mother they met me Wi’ trumpets soundin’ on every side; But it was nae music at a’ to me.

‘Now hau’d your comfort my father dear, And mother your weeping let abee! I’ll never lye in another man’s arms Since my dear lord has forsaken me.’

XVI

It’s very true, and it’s aft-times said, The hawk will flie far far frae her nest: And a’ the warld may plainly see They are far frae me that I luve best.

_Lament of Barbara, Marchioness of Douglas_

XVII

O waly, waly, up the bank, And waly, waly, doun the brae, And waly, waly, yon burn-side, Where I and my Love wont to gae!

XVIII

I lean’d my back unto an aik, I thocht it was a trustie tree; But first it bow’d and syne it brak-- Sae my true love did lichtlie[538] me.

XIX

O waly, waly, gin love be bonnie A little time while it is new! But when ’tis auld it waxeth cauld, And fades awa’ like morning dew.

O wherefore should I busk my heid, Or wherefore should I kame my hair? For my true Love has me forsook, And says he’ll never lo’e me mair.

XXI

Now Arthur’s Seat sall be my bed, The sheets sall ne’er be ’filed by me; Saint Anton’s well sall be my drink; Since my true Love has forsaken me.

XXII

Marti’mas wind, when wilt thou blaw, And shake the green leaves aff the tree? O gentle Death, when wilt thou come? For of my life I am wearìe.

XXIII

’Tis not the frost, that freezes fell, Nor blawing snaw’s inclemencie, ’Tis not sic cauld that makes me cry; But my Love’s heart grown cauld to me.

XXIV

When we cam’ in by Glasgow toun, We were a comely sicht to see; My Love was clad in the black velvèt, And I mysel’ in cramasie.

XXV

But had I wist, before I kist, That love had been sae ill to win, I had lock’d my heart in a case o’ gowd, And pinn’d it wi’ a siller pin.

XXVI

And O! if my young babe were born, And set upon the nurse’s knee; And I mysel’ were dead and gane, And the green grass growing over me!

FOOTNOTES:

[536] cramasie = crimson.

[537] auld = eldest.

[538] lichtlie = slight, treat with disrespect.

_88. Katharine Johnstone_

There was a may, and a weel-far’d[539] may, Lived high up in yon glen; Her name was Katharine Johnstone She was courted by mony men.

Doun cam’ the Laird o’ Lamington Out frae the North Countrie, All for to court this pretty may, Her bridegroom for to be.

III

He tell’d na her father, he tell’d na her mither, He tell’d na ane o’ her kin, But he tell’d the bonnie lass hersel’ An’ her consent did win.

But up then cam’ Lord Faughanwood Out frae the English Border, And for to court this pretty may, A’ mounted in good order.

He’s tell’d her father, he’s tell’d her mither, And a’ the lave[540] o’ her kin; But he’s tell’d na the bonny lass hersel’ Till on her weddin’-e’en.

She’s sent unto her first fere[541] love, Gin he would come to see, And Lamington has sent back word Weel answer’d should she be.

VII

Then he has sent a messenger Right quietly thro’ the land, For four-and-twenty armèd men To ride at his command.

VIII

The bridegroom from a high window Beheld baith dale and down, And there he spied her first fere love Cam’ riding to the toun.

She scoffèd and she scornèd him Upon her weddin’-day, And said it was the Fairy Court He saw in sic array!

When a’ were at the dinner set, Drinking the blude-red wine, In cam’ the Laird o’ Lamington The bridegroom ’should hae been.

‘O come ye here to fight, young lord? Or come ye here to play? Or come ye here to drink good wine Upon the weddin’-day?’--

XII

‘I come na here to fight,’ he said ‘I come na here to play; I’ll but lead a dance wi’ the bonny bride, And mount and go my way.’

XIII

There was a glass of the blude-red wine Was fill’d them up between, But aye she drank to Lamington, Wha her true love had been.

XIV

He’s ta’en her by the milk-white hand, And by the grass-green sleeve; He’s mounted her high behind himsel’, At her kin he’s spier’d[542] nae leave.

There were four-and-twenty bonny boys A’ clad in the Johnstone grey, They swore they would tak’ the bride again By the strong hand, if they may.

XVI

It’s up, it’s up the Cowden bank, It’s down the Cowden brae; The bride she gar’d the trumpet sound ‘It is a weel-won play!’

XVII

The blude ran down by Cowden bank And down by Cowden brae, But aye she gar’d the trumpet sound ‘It’s a’ fair play!’

XVIII

‘My blessing on your heart, sweet thing! Wae to your wilfu’ will! Sae mony a gallant gentleman’s blood This day as ye’ve gar’d spill.’

XIX

But a’ you lords of fair England, If you be English born, Come never to Scotland to seek a wife Or else ye’ll get the scorn.

They’ll haik ye up[543], and settle ye by[544], Until your weddin’-day; Then gie ye frogs instead o’ fish, And do ye foul, foul play.

FOOTNOTES:

[539] weel-far’d = well-favoured.

[540] lave = rest.

[541] fere = mate.

[542] spier’d = asked.

[543] haik ye up = hold you in suspense.

[544] settle ye by = keep you waiting aside.

_89. Johnie Armstrong_

Sum speiks of lords, sum speiks of lairds, And sick lyke men of hie degrie; Of a gentleman I sing a sang, Sum tyme called Laird of Gilnockie.

The King he wrytes a luving letter, With his ain hand sae tenderly, And he hath sent it to Johnie Armstrang, To cum and speik with him speedily.

III

The Eliots and Armstrangs did convene; They were a gallant cumpanie-- ‘We’ll ride and meit our lawful King, And bring him safe to Gilnockie.’

‘Make kinnen[545] and capon ready, then, And venison in great plentie; We’ll wellcum here our royal King; I hope he’ll dine at Gilnockie!’--

They ran their horse on the Langholme howm, And brak their spears wi’ mickle main; The ladies lukit frae their loft windows-- ‘God bring our men weel hame agen!’

When Johnie cam’ before the King, Wi’ a’ his men sae brave to see, The King he movit his bonnet to him; He ween’d he was King as weel as he.

VII

‘May I find grace, my sovereign liege, Grace for my loyal men and me? For my name it is Johnie Armstrang, And a subject of yours, my liege,’ said he.

VIII

‘Away, away, thou traitor strang! Out o’ my sight soon mayst thou be! I grantit never a traitor’s life, And now I’ll not begin wi’ thee.’--

‘Grant me my life, my liege, my King! And a bonny gift I’ll gie to thee: Full four-and-twenty milk-white steids, Were a’ foal’d in ae yeir to me.

‘I’ll gie thee a’ these milk-white steids, That prance and nicker[546] at a speir; And as mickle gude Inglish gilt[547], As four o’ their braid backs dow[548] bear.’--

‘Away, away, thou traitor strang! Out o’ my sight soon mayst thou be! I grantit never a traitor’s life, And now I’ll not begin wi’ thee!’--

XII

‘Grant me my life, my liege, my King! And a bonny gift I’ll gie to thee: Gude four-and-twenty ganging[549] mills, That gang thro’ a’ the yeir to me.

XIII

‘These four-and-twenty mills complete Sall gang for thee thro’ a’ the yeir; And as mickle of gude reid wheit, As a’ thair happers[550] dow to bear.’--

XIV

‘Away, away, thou traitor strang! Out o’ my sight soon mayst thou be! I grantit never a traitor’s life, And now I’ll not begin wi’ thee.’--

‘Grant me my life, my liege, my King! And a great great gift I’ll gie to thee: Bauld four-and-twenty sisters’ sons, Sall for thee fetch, tho’ a’ should flee!’--

XVI

‘Away, away, thou traitor strang! Out o’ my sight soon mayst thou be! I grantit never a traitor’s life, And now I’ll not begin wi’ thee.’--

XVII

‘Grant me my life, my liege, my King! And a brave gift I’ll gie to thee: All between heir and Newcastle town Sall pay their yeirly rent to thee.’--

XVIII

‘Away, away, thou traitor strang! Out o’ my sight soon mayst thou be! I grantit never a traitor’s life, And now I’ll not begin wi’ thee.’--

XIX

‘Ye lied, ye lied, now, King,’ he says, ‘Altho’ a King and Prince ye be! For I’ve luved naething in my life, I weel dare say it, but honesty:

‘Save a fat horse, and a fair woman, Twa bonny dogs to kill a deir; But England suld have found me meal and mault, Gif I had lived this hundred yeir!

XXI

‘She suld have found me meal and mault, And beef and mutton in a’ plentie; But never a Scots wyfe could have said That e’er I skaith’d[551] her a puir flee.

XXII

‘To seik het water beneith cauld ice, Surely it is a greit folie-- I have asked grace at a graceless face, But there is nane for my men and me!

XXIII

‘But had I kenn’d ere I cam’ frae hame, How thou unkind wadst been to me! I wad have keepit the Border side, In spite of all thy force and thee.

XXIV

‘Wist England’s King that I was ta’en, O gin a blythe man he wad be! For anes I slew his sister’s son, And on his breist bane brak a trie.’

XXV

John wore a girdle about his middle, Imbroider’d owre wi’ burning gold, Bespangled wi’ the same metal, Maist beautiful was to behold.

XXVI

There hung nine targats[552] at Johnie’s hat, And ilk ane worth three hundred pound-- ‘What wants that knave that a King suld have, But the sword of honour and the crown?’

XXVII

‘O where got thou these targats, Johnie, That blink sae brawlie[553] abune thy brie[554]?’-- ‘I gat them in the field fechting, Where, cruel King, thou durst not be.

XXVIII

‘Had I my horse, and harness gude, And riding as I wont to be, It suld have been tauld this hundred yeir, The meeting of my King and me!

XXIX

‘God be with thee, Kirsty, my brother, Lang live thou Laird of Mangertoun! Lang mayst thou live on the Border syde, Ere thou see thy brother ride up and doun!

XXX

‘And God be with thee, Kirsty, my son, Where thou sits on thy nurse’s knee! But an thou live this hundred yeir, Thy father’s better thou’lt never be.

XXXI

‘Farewell! my bonny Gilnock hall, Where on Esk side thou standest stout! Gif I had lived but seven yeirs mair, I wad hae gilt thee round about.’

XXXII

John murder’d was at Carlinrigg, And all his gallant companie; But Scotland’s heart was ne’er sae wae, To see sae mony brave men die--

XXXIII

Because they saved their country deir Frae Englishmen! Nane were sa bauld, Whyle Johnie lived on the Border syde, Nane of them durst cum neir his hauld.

FOOTNOTES:

[545] kinnen = rabbits.

[546] nicker = neigh.

[547] gilt = gold.

[548] dow = are able to.

[549] ganging = going.

[550] happers = mill-hoppers.

[551] skaith’d = hurt, wronged.

[552] targats = round ornaments.

[553] blink sae brawlie = glance so bravely.

[554] brie = brow.

_90. Clyde Water_

Willie stands in his stable door, And clapping at his steed, And over his white fingers His nose began to bleed.

‘Gie corn unto my horse, mither, Gie meat unto my man; For I maun gang to Margaret’s bour Before the nicht comes on.’--

III

‘O bide at hame this nicht, Willie, This ae bare nicht wi’ me: The bestan bed in a’ my house Sall be well made to thee.

‘O bide at hame this nicht, Willie, This ae bare nicht wi’ me: The bestan bird in a’ the roost At your supper, son, sall be.’--

‘A’ your beds and a’ your roosts I value not a pin; But I sall gae to my love’s gates This nicht, gif I can win.’--

‘O stay at home, my son Willie, The wind blaws cauld an’ sour; The nicht will be baith mirk and late Before ye reach her bour.’--

VII

‘O though the nicht were ever sae dark, Or the wind blew never sae cauld, I will be in my Margaret’s bour Before twa hours be tald.’--

VIII

‘O an ye gang to Margaret’s bour Sae sair against my will, I’ the deepest pot o’ Clyde’s water My malison[555] ye’se feel.’

As he rade owre yon high high hill, And doun yon dowie[556] den, The roaring that was in Clyde’s water Wad fley’d[557] five hundred men.

His heart was warm, his pride was up, Sweet Willie kentna fear; But yet his mither’s malison Aye soundit in his ear.

‘O spare, O spare me, Clyde’s water: Your stream rins wondrous strang: Mak’ me your wrack as I come back, But spare me as I gang!’

XII

Then he rade in, and further in, And he swam to an’ fro, Until he’s grippit a hazel bush That brung him to the brow.

XIII

Then he is on to Margaret’s bour, And tirlèd at the pin; But doors were steek’d and windows barr’d, And nane wad let him in.

XIV

‘O open the door to me, Marg’ret! O open and let me in! For my boots are fu’ o’ Clyde’s water And the rain rins owre my chin.’--

‘I darena open the door to you, Nor darena let you in; For my mither she is fast asleep, And I maun mak’ nae din.’--

XVI

‘O hae ye ne’er a stable?’ he says, ‘Or hae ye ne’er a barn? Or hae ye ne’er a wild-goose house Where I might rest till morn?’--

XVII

‘My barn it is fu’ o’ corn,’ she says, ‘My stable is fu’ o’ hay; My house is fu’ o’ merry young men; They winna remove till day.’--

XVIII

‘O fare ye weel then, May Marg’ret, Sin’ better may na be! I’ve gotten my mither’s malison This nicht, coming to thee.’

XIX

He’s mounted on his coal-black steed, --O but his heart was wae! But ere he came to Clyde’s water ’Twas half up owre the brae.

‘An hey, Willie! an hoa, Willie! Winna ye turn agen?’ But aye the louder that she cried He rade agenst the win’.

XXI

As he rade owre yon high high hill, And doun yon dowie den, The roaring that was in Clyde’s water Wad fley’d a thousand men.

XXII

Then he rade in, and farther in, Till he cam’ to the chine; The rushing that was in Clyde’s water Took Willie’s riding-cane.

XXIII

He lean’d him owre his saddle-bow To catch the rod by force; The rushing that was in Clyde’s water Took Willie frae his horse.

XXIV

‘O how can I turn my horse’s head? How can I learn to sowm[558]? I’ve gotten my mither’s malison, And it’s here that I maun drown!’

XXV

O he swam high, and he swam low, And he swam to and fro, But he couldna spy the hazel-bush Wad bring him to the brow.

XXVI

He’s sunk and he never rase agen Into the pot sae deep ... And up it waken’d May Margaret Out o’ her drowsie sleep.

XXVII

‘Come hither, come here, my mither dear, Read me this dreary dream; I dream’d my Willie was at our gates, And nane wad let him in.’--

XXVIII

‘Lie still, lie still now, my Meggie: Lie still and tak’ your rest; Sin’ your true-love was at your gates It’s but twa quarters past.’--

XXIX

Nimbly, nimbly rase she up, And nimbly put she on; And the higher that the lady cried, The louder blew the win’.

XXX

The firstan step that she stept in, She steppit to the queet[559]: ‘Ohon, alas!’ said that lady, ‘This water’s wondrous deep.’

XXXI

The neistan step that she stept in, She waded to the knee; Says she, ‘I cou’d wade farther in, If I my love cou’d see.’

XXXII

The neistan step that she wade in, She waded to the chin; The deepest pot in Clyde’s water She got sweet Willie in.

XXXIII

‘Ye’ve had a cruel mither, Willie! And I have had anither; But we sall sleep in Clyde’s water Like sister an’ like brither.’

FOOTNOTES:

[555] malison = curse.

[556] dowie = dismal, gloomy.

[557] fley’d = frightened.

[558] sowm = swim.

[559] queet = ankle.

_91. Young Benjie_

Of a’ the maids o’ fair Scotland, The fairest was Marjorie; And young Benjie was her ae true love, And a dear true-love was he.

And wow! but they were lovers dear, And loved fu’ constantlie; But ay the mair when they fell out, The sairer was their plea[560].

III

And they hae quarrell’d on a day, Till Marjorie’s heart grew wae, And she said she’d chuse another luve, And let young Benjie gae.

And he was stout, and proud-heartèd, And thought o’t bitterlie, And he’s gaen by the wan moon-light, To meet his Marjorie.

‘O open, open, my true love! O open, and let me in!’-- ‘I dare na open, young Benjie, My three brothers are within.’--

‘Ye lied, ye lied, my bonny burd, Sae loud’s I hear ye lie; As I came by the Lowden banks, They bade gude e’en to me.

VII

‘But fare ye weel, my ae fause love, That I hae loved sae lang! It sets[561] ye chuse another love, And let young Benjie gang.’

VIII

Then Marjorie turned her round about, The tear blinding her e’e, ‘I darena, darena let thee in, But I’ll come down to thee.’

Then saft she smiled, and said to him, ‘O what ill hae I done?’ He took her in his armis twa, And threw her o’er the linn[562].

The stream was strang, the maid was stout, And laith laith to be dang[563]; But, ere she wan the Lowden banks, Her fair colour was wan.

Then up bespak her eldest brother, ‘O see na ye what I see?’ And out then spak her second brother, ‘It’s our sister Marjorie!’

XII

Out then spak her eldest brother, ‘O how shall we her ken?’ And out then spak her youngest brother, ‘There’s a honey mark on her chin.’

XIII

Then they’ve ta’en up the comely corpse, And laid it on the grund: ‘O wha has killed our ae sister, And how can he be found?

XIV

‘The night it is her low lykewake[564], The morn her burial day, And we maun watch at mirk midnight, And hear what she will say.’

Wi’ doors ajar, and candle-light, And torches burning clear, The streikit[565] corpse, till still midnight, They waked, but naething hear.

XVI

About the middle o’ the night, The cocks began to craw, And at the dead hour o’ the night, The corpse began to thraw[566].

XVII

‘O wha has done the wrang, sister, Or dared the deadly sin? Wha was sae stout, and feared nae dout, As thraw ye o’er the linn?’--

XVIII

‘Young Benjie was the first ae man, I laid my love upon; He was sae stout and proud-heartèd, He threw me o’er the linn.’--

XIX

‘Sall we young Benjie head, sister, Sall we young Benjie hang, Or sall we pike out his twa gray e’en, And punish him ere he gang?’--

‘Ye mauna Benjie head, brothers, Ye mauna Benjie hang, But ye maun pike out his twa gray e’en, And punish him ere he gang.

XXI

‘Tie a green gravat[567] round his neck, And lead him out and in, And the best ae servant about your house, To wait young Benjie on.

XXII

‘And ay, at every seven years’ end, Ye’ll tak him to the linn; For that’s the penance he maun drie[568], To scug[569] his deadly sin.’

FOOTNOTES:

[560] plea = quarrel.

[561] sets = befits.

[562] linn = stream.

[563] dang = overcome.

[564] lykewake = corpse-watching.

[565] streikit = stretched out.

[566] thraw = twist, writhe.

[567] gravat = cravat, collar.

[568] drie = endure.

[569] scug = screen, expiate.

_92. Annan Water_

Annan water’s wading deep, And my love Annie’s wondrous bonny; And I am laith she suld weet her feet, Because I love her best of ony.

‘Gar saddle me the bonny black, Gar saddle sune, and make him ready; For I will down the Gatehope-Slack, And all to see my bonny ladye.’

III

He has loupen on the bonny black, He stirr’d him wi’ the spur right sairly; But, or he wan the Gatehope-Slack, I think the steed was wae and weary.

He has loupen on the bonny grey, He rade the right gate[570] and the ready; I trow he would neither stint nor stay, For he was seeking his bonny ladye.

O he has ridden o’er field and fell, Through muir and moss, and mony a mire: His spurs o’ steel were sair to bide, And frae her fore-feet flew the fire.

‘Now, bonny grey, now play your part! Gin ye be the steed that wins my deary, Wi’ corn and hay ye’se be fed for aye, And never spur sall make you wearie.’

VII

The grey was a mare, and a right good mare; But when she wan the Annan water, She couldna hae ridden a furlong mair, Had a thousand merks been wadded[571] at her.

VIII

‘O boatman, boatman, put off your boat! Put off your boat for gowden money! I cross the drumly[572] stream the night, Or never mair I see my honey.’--

‘O I was sworn sae late yestreen, And not by ae aith, but by many; And for a’ the gowd in fair Scotland, I dare na take ye through to Annie.’--

The side was stey[573], and the bottom deep, Frae bank to brae the water pouring; And the bonny grey mare did sweat for fear, For she heard the water-kelpy[574] roaring.

O he has pu’d aff his dapperpy[575] coat, The silver buttons glancèd bonny; The waistcoat bursted aff his breast, He was sae full of melancholy.

XII

He has ta’en the ford at that stream tail; I wot he swam both strong and steady, But the stream was broad, and his strength did fail, And he never saw his bonny ladye!

XIII

O wae betide the frush[576] saugh[577] wand! And wae betide the bush of brier! It brake into my true love’s hand, When his strength did fail, and his limbs did tire.

XIV

‘And wae betide ye, Annan Water, This night that ye are a drumlie river! For over thee I’ll build a bridge, That ye never more true love may sever.’--

FOOTNOTES:

[570] gate = way.

[571] wadded = wagered.

[572] drumly = turbid.

[573] stey = steep.

[574] water-kelpy = water-sprite.

[575] dapperpy = diapered.

[576] frush = brittle.

[577] saugh = willow.

_93. Rare Willy drowned in Yarrow_

‘Willy’s rare, and Willy’s fair, And Willy’s wondrous bonny; And Willy heght[578] to marry me, Gin e’er he marryd ony.

‘Yestreen I made my bed fu’ braid, The night I’ll make it narrow, For a’ the live-long winter’s night I lie twin’d[579] of my marrow[580].

III

‘O came you by yon water-side? Pu’d you the rose or lilly? Or came you by yon meadow green? Or saw you my sweet Willy?’

She sought him east, she sought him west, She sought him braid and narrow; Sine, in the clifting[581] of a craig, She found him drown’d in Yarrow.

FOOTNOTES:

[578] heght = promised.

[579] twin’d = deprived.

[580] marrow = mate.

[581] clifting = cleft.

_94. The Duke of Gordon’s Daughter_

The Duke of Gordon had three daughters, Elizabeth, Marg’ret and Jean; They would not stay in bonny Castle Gordon, But they went to bonny Aberdeen.

They had not been in bonny Aberdeen A twelvemonth and a day, Lady Jean fell in love with Captain Ogilvie And awa’ with him she would gae.

III

Word came to the Duke of Gordon, In the chamber where he lay, Lady Jean was in love with Captain Ogilvie, And from him she would not stay.

‘Go saddle to me the black horse, And you’ll ride on the grey, And I will gang to bonny Aberdeen Forthwith to bring her away.’

They were not a mile from Aberdeen, A mile but only one, Till he met with his two daughters, But awa’ was Lady Jean.

‘Where is your sister, maidens? Where is your sister now? Say, what is become of your sister, That she is not walking with you?’

VII

‘O pardon us, honour’d father, O pardon us!’ they did say; ‘Lady Jean is wed with Captain Ogilvie, And from him she will not stay.’

VIII

[Then an angry man the Duke rade on] Till he came to bonny Aberdeen, And there did he see brave Captain Ogilvie A-training of his men on the green.

‘O woe be to thee, thou Captain Ogilvie! And an ill death thou shalt dee. For taking to thee my daughter Jean High hangit shalt thou be.’

The Duke has written a broad letter, To the King [with his own han’;] It was to hang Captain Ogilvie If ever he hang’d a man.

‘I will not hang Captain Ogilvie For no lord that I see; But I’ll gar him put off the broad scarlèt, And put on the single liver[582]ỳ.’

XII

Now word came to Captain Ogilvie, In the chamber where he lay, To cast off the gold lace and scarlet, And put on the single liverỳ.

XIII

‘If this be for bonny Jeanie Gordon, This penance I can take wi’; If this be for dear Jeanie Gordon, All this and mair will I dree[583].’

XIV

Lady Jeanie had not been married A year but only three, Till she had a babe upon every arm And another upon her knee.

‘O but I’m weary of wand’rin’! O but my fortune is bad! It sets not the Duke of Gordon’s daughter To follow a soldier lad.

XVI

‘O but I’m weary, weary wand’rin’! O but I think it lang! It sets not the Duke of Gordon’s daughter To follow a single man.

XVII

‘O hold thy tongue, Jeanie Gordon, O hold thy tongue, my lamb! For once I was a noble captain, Now for thy sake a single man.’

XVIII

But when they came to the Highland hills, Cold was the frost and snow; Lady Jean’s shoes they were all torn, No farther could she go.

XIX

‘Now woe to the hills and the mountains! Woe to the wind and the rain! My feet is sair wi’ going barefoot: No farther can I gang.

‘O were I in the glens o’ Foudlen, Where hunting I have been, I would go to bonny Castle Gordon, There I’d get hose and sheen[584]!’

XXI

When they came to bonny Castle Gordon, And standing on the green, The porter out with loud loud shout, ‘O here comes our Lady Jean!’--

XXII

‘You are welcome, bonny Jeanie Gordon, You are dear welcome to me; You are welcome, dear Jeanie Gordon, But awa’ with your Ogilvie!’

XXIII

Over-seas now went the Captain, As a soldier under command; But a message soon follow’d after, To come home for to heir his land.

XXIV

‘O what does this mean?’ says the Captain; ‘Where’s my brother’s children three?’-- ‘They are a’ o’ them dead and buried: Come home, pretty Captain Ogilvie!’

XXV

‘Then hoist up your sail,’ says the Captain, ‘And we’ll hie back owre the sea; And I’ll gae to bonny Castle Gordon, There my dear Jeanie to see.’

XXVI

He came to bonny Castle Gordon, And upon the green stood he: The porter out with a loud loud shout, ‘Here comes our Captain Ogilvie!’--

XXVII

‘You’re welcome, pretty Captain Ogilvie, Your fortune’s advanced, I hear; No stranger can come to my castle That I do love so dear.’--

XXVIII

‘Put up your hat, Duke of Gordon; Let it fa’ not from your head. It never set the noble Duke of Gordon To bow to a single soldier lad.

XXIX

‘Sir, the last time I was at your Castle, You would not let me in; Now I’m come for my wife and children, No friendship else I claim.’

XXX

Down the stair Lady Jean came tripping, With the saut tear in her e’e; She had a babe in every arm, And another at her knee.

XXXI

The Captain took her straight in his arms, --O a happy man was he!-- Saying, ‘Welcome, bonny Jeanie Gordon, My Countess o’ Cumberland to be!’

FOOTNOTES:

[582] single livery = private’s uniform.

[583] dree = endure.

[584] sheen = shoes.

_95. The Bonny Earl of Murray_

Ye Highlands and ye Lawlands, O where hae ye been? They hae slain the Earl of Murray, And hae laid him on the green.

Now wae be to thee, Huntley! And whairfore did ye sae! I bade you bring him wi’ you, But forbade you him to slay.

III

He was a braw gallant, And he rid at the ring; And the bonny Earl of Murray, O he might hae been a king!

He was a braw gallant, And he play’d at the ba’; And the bonny Earl of Murray Was the flower amang them a’!

He was a braw gallant, And he play’d at the gluve; And the bonny Earl of Murray, O he was the Queen’s luve!

O lang will his Lady Look owre the Castle Downe, Ere she see the Earl of Murray Come sounding through the town!

_96. Bonny George Campbell_

Hie upon Hielands, And laigh[585] upon Tay, Bonny George Campbell Rade out on a day: Saddled and bridled, Sae gallant to see, Hame cam’ his gude horse, But never cam’ he.

Down ran his auld mither, Greetin[586]’ fu’ sair; Out ran his bonny bride, Reaving[587] her hair; ‘My meadow lies green, And my corn is unshorn, My barn is to bigg[588], And my babe is unborn.’

III

Saddled and bridled And booted rade he; A plume in his helmet, A sword at his knee; But toom[589] cam’ his saddle A’ bluidy to see, O hame cam’ his gude horse, But never cam’ he!

FOOTNOTES:

[585] laigh = low.

[586] greeting = crying, lamenting.

[587] Reaving = tearing.

[588] bigg = build.

[589] toom = empty.