Appendix
“A lamentable new ditty, made upon the death of a worthy gentleman named George Stoole, dwelling sometime on Gate-side Moore, and sometime at New-Castle in Northumberland: with his penitent end. To a delicate Scottish tune.” Roxburghe Collection, I, 186, 187. Roxburghe Ballads, ed. W. Chappell, I, 576. Previously printed by [Ritson], Northumberland Garland, Newcastle, 1793, p. 33 (p. 43 of Haslewood’s reprint, London, 1809), and in Bell’s Rhymes of Northern Bards, p. 162.
1 Come, you lusty northerne lads, That are so blith and bonny, Prepare your hearts to be full sad, To hear the end of Georgey. Heigh-ho, heigh-ho, my bon[n]y love, Heigh-ho, heigh-ho, my bonny! Heigh-ho, heigh-ho, my owne deare love, And God be with my Georgie!
2 When Georgie to his triall came, A thousand hearts were sorry; A thousand lasses wept full sore, And all for love of Georgy.
3 Some did say he would escape, Some at his fall did glory; But these were clownes and fickle friends, And none that lovëd Georgy.
4 Might friends have satisfide the law, Then Georgie would find many; Yet bravely did he plead for life, If mercy might be any.
5 But when this doughty carle was cast, He was full sad and sorry; Yet boldly did he take his death, So patiently dyde Georgie.
6 As Georgie went up to the gate, He tooke his leave of many; He tooke his leave of his lard’s wife, Whom he lovd best of any.
7 With thousand sighs and heavy lookes, Away from thence he parted Where he so often blith had beene, Though now so heavy-hearted.
8 He writ a letter with his owne hand, He thought he writ it bravely; He sent to New-castle towne, To his belovëd lady.
9 Wherein he did at large bewaile The occasion of his folly, Bequeathing life unto the law, His soule to heaven holy.
10 ‘Why, lady, leave to weepe for me! Let not my ending grieve ye! Prove constant to the man you love, For I cannot releeve ye.
11 ‘Out upon the, Withrington! And fie upon the, Phœnix! Thou hast put downe the doughty one That stole the sheepe from Anix.
12 ‘And fie on all such cruell carles Whose crueltie’s so fickle To cast away a gentleman, In hatred, for so little!
13 ‘I would I were on yonder hill, Where I have beene full merry, My sword and buckeler by my side, To fight till I be weary.
14 ‘They well should know, that tooke me first, Though hopes be now forsaken, Had I but freedome, armes, and health, I’de dye ere I’de be taken.
15 ‘But law condemns me to my grave, They have me in their power; Ther’s none but Christ that can mee save At this my dying houre.’
16 He calld his dearest love to him, When as his heart was sorry, And speaking thus, with manly heart, ‘Deare sweeting, pray for Georgie.’
17 He gave to her a piece of gold, And bade her give ‘t her barnes, And oft he kist her rosie lips, And laid him into her armes.
18 And comming to the place of death, He never changëd colour; The more they thought he would looke pale, The more his veines were fuller.
19 And with a cheerefull countenance, Being at that time entreated For to confesse his former life, These words he straight repeated.
20 ‘I never stole no oxe nor cow, Nor never murdered any; But fifty horse I did receive Of a merchant’s man of Gory.
21 ‘For which I am condemnd to dye, Though guiltlesse I stand dying; Deare gracious God, my soule receive! For now my life is flying.’
22 The man of death a part did act Which grieves mee tell the story; God comfort all are comfortlesse, And did[e] so well as Georgie! Heigh-ho, heigh-ho, my bonny love, Heigh-ho, heigh[-ho], my bonny, Heigh-ho, heigh-ho, mine own true love, Sweet Christ receive my Georgie!
1. Burden to st. 1: honny in the second line.
10^3. the ney.
14^2. whoops.
14^4. dye are.
“The Life and Death of George of Oxford. To a pleasant tune, called Poor Georgy.” Roxburghe Collection, IV, 53, Pepys, II, 150, Jersey, I, 86, Huth, I, 150, according to Mr J. W. Ebsworth, Roxburghe Ballads, VII, 70, 1890. It was printed for P. Brooksby, whose time Mr Ebsworth gives as between 1671 and 1692.
1 As I went over London Bridge, All in a misty morning, There did I see one weep and mourn, Lamenting for her Georgy. His time it is past, his life it will not last, Alack and alas, there is no remédy! Which makes the heart within me ready to burst in three, To think on the death of poor Georgy.
2 ‘George of Oxford is my name, And few there’s but have known me; Many a mad prank have I playd, But now they’ve overthrown me.’
3 O then bespake the Lady Gray; ‘I’le haste me in the morning, And to the judge I’le make my way, To save the life of Georgy.
4 ‘Go saddle me my milk-white steed, Go saddle me my bonny, That I may to New-Castle speed, To save the life of Georgy.’
5 But when she came the judge before, Full low her knee she bended; For Georgy’s life she did implore, That she might be befriended.
6 ‘O rise, O rise, fair Lady Gray, Your suit cannot be granted; Content your self as well you may, For Georgy must be hanged.’
7 She wept, she waild, she [w]rung her hands, And ceasëd not her mourning; She offerd gold, she offerd lands, To save the life of Georgy.
8 ‘I have travelld through the land, And met with many a man, sir, But, knight or lord, I bid him stand; He durst not make an answer.
9 ‘The Brittain bold that durst deny His money for to tender, Though he were stout as valiant Guy, I forced him to surrender.
10 ‘But when the money I had got, And made him cry peccavi, To bear his charge and pay his shot, A mark or noble gave I.
11 ‘The ladies, when they had me seen, Would ner have been affrighted; To take a dance upon the green With Georgy they delighted.
12 ‘When I had ended this our wake, And fairly them bespoken, Their rings and jewels would I take, To keep them for a token.’
13 The hue-and-cry for George is set, A proper handsome fellow, With diamond eyes as black as jet, And locks like gold so yellow.
14 Long it was, with all their art, Ere they could apprehend him, But at the last his valiant heart No longer could defend him.
15 ‘I ner stole horse nor mare in my life, Nor cloven foot, or any, But once, sir, of the king’s white steeds, And I sold them to Bohemia.’
16 Georgy he went up the hill, And after followed many; Georgy was hanged in silken string, The like was never any.
* * * * *
The burden (here given with only the first stanza) is from time to time varied.
3^1, 6^1. Oh.
After 7. George’s Confession.
210
BONNIE JAMES CAMPBELL
#A.# Herd’s MSS, I, 40, II, 184.
#B.# Finlay’s Scottish Ballads, 1808, I, xxxiii.
#C.# ‘Bonnie George Campbell,’ Smith’s Scotish Minstrel, V, 42.
#D.# Cunningham’s Songs of Scotland, III, 2.
#A# was copied by Sir Walter Scott (with slight variations) into a MS. at Abbotsford, ‘Scottish Songs,’ fol. 68 (1795–1806). The first half is printed from notes of Scott in Laing’s edition of Sharpe’s Ballad Book, pp. 143, 156 f, and to these two stanzas, nearly as here printed, there are added in the second case, p. 157, the following verses, which are evidently modern, with the exception of the last:
His hawk and his hounds they are wandered and gane, His lady sits dowie and weary her lane, His bairns wi greetin hae blinded their een, His croft is unshorn, and his meadow grows green.
Scott subjoins, “I never heard more of this.” He was familiar with Herd’s MSS.
#C#, like many things in the Scotish Minstrel, has passed through editorial hands, whence the ‘never return’ of st. 4, and ‘A plume in his helmet, a sword at his knee,’ st. 5. This copy furnished the starting point for Allan Cunningham, III, 1, who, however, substitutes Finlay’s ‘wife’ for the Minstrel’s ‘bryde,’ and presents her with three bairns.
Motherwell made up his ‘Bonnie George Campbell’ (Minstrelsy, p. 44) from #B#, #C#, #D#. In a manuscript copied out by a granddaughter of Lord Woodhouselee (1840–50), #D# is combined with Cunningham’s ballad.
Motherwell says that this ballad “is probably a lament for one of the adherents of the house of Argyle who fell in the battle of Glenlivet, stricken on Thursday, the third day of October, 1594.” Sir Robert Gordon observes that Argyle lost in this battle his two cousins, Archibald and James Campbell: Genealogical History of Sutherland, p. 229. Maidment, Scotish Ballads, 1868, I, 240, chooses to think that “there can be little doubt” that the ballad refers to the murder of Sir John Campbell of Calder by one of his own surname, in 1591, and alters the title accordingly to ‘Bonnie John Campbell.’ Motherwell has at least a name to favor his supposition. But Campbells enow were killed, in battle or feud, before and after 1590, to forbid a guess as to an individual James or George grounded upon the slight data afforded by the ballad.
Motherwell’s ballad is translated by Wolff, Halle der Völker, I, 79, Hausschatz, p. 225.
* * * * *
A
Herd’s MSS, I, 40, II, 184.
1 O it’s up in the Highlands, and along the sweet Tay, Did bonie James Campbell ride monie a day.
2 Sadled and bridled, and bonie rode he; Hame came horse, hame came sadle, but neer hame cam he.
3 And doun cam his sweet sisters, greeting sae sair, And down cam his bonie wife, tearing her hair.
4 ‘My house is unbigged, my barn’s unbeen, My corn’s unshorn, my meadow grows green.’
* * * * * *
* * * * *
B
Finlay’s Scottish Ballads, 1808, I, xxxiii.
1 Saddled and briddled and booted rade he; Toom hame cam the saddle, but never cam he.
2 Down cam his auld mither, greetin fu sair, And down cam his bonny wife, wringin her hair.
3 Saddled and briddled and booted rade he; Toom hame cam the saddle, but never cam he.
* * * * *
C
Smith’s Scotish Minstrel, V, 42.
1 Hie upon Hielands, and laigh upon Tay, Bonnie George Campbell rode out on a day.
2 He saddled, he bridled, and gallant rode he, And hame cam his guid horse, but never cam he.
3 Out cam his mother dear, greeting fu sair, And out cam his bonnie bryde, riving her hair.
4 ‘The meadow lies green, the corn is unshorn, But bonnie George Campbell will never return.’
5 Saddled and bridled and booted rode he, A plume in his helmet, a sword at his knee.
6 But toom cam his saddle, all bloody to see, Oh, hame cam his guid horse, but never cam he!
* * * * *
D
Cunningham’s Songs of Scotland, III, 2, communicated by Mr Yellowlees.
1 High upon Highlands, and low upon Tay, Bonnie George Campbell rode out on a day.
2 ‘My meadow lies green, and my corn is unshorn, My barn is to build, and my babe is unborn.
* * * * *
#A# is written, and #C# printed, in stanzas of four long lines.
#A.# 1^1. Sharpe, 143, O wanting.
1^2. Scottish Songs and Sharpe, and wanting.
2^2. Scottish Songs, and gallant, as in #C#.
2^4. Sharpe, but hame cam na he.
4^4. Scottish Songs, meadows grow green.
211
BEWICK AND GRAHAM
#a.# ‘The Song of Bewick and Grahame,’ a stall-copy, in octavo, British Museum, 11621. e. 1. (4.) #b.# ‘A Remarkable and Memorable Song of Sir Robert Bewick and the Laird Graham,’ broadside, Roxburghe Ballads, III, 624. #c.# ‘A Remarkable and Memorable Song of Sir Robert Bewick and the Laird Graham,’ broadside, Percy papers. #d.# ‘Bewick and Graham’s Garland,’ M. Angus and Son, Newcastle, Bell Ballads, Abbotsford Library, P. 5, vol. i, No 60. #e.# Broadside, in “A Jolly Book of Garlands collected by John Bell in Newcastle,” No 29, Abbotsford Library, E. 1. #f.# ‘Bewick and Graham,’ chapbook, Newcastle, W. Fordyce. #g.# “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 145, Abbotsford. #h.# ‘Chirstie Græme,’ the same, No 89.
No copy of this ballad earlier than the last century is known to me. The Museum Catalogue gives a conjectural date of 1740 to #a# and of 1720 to #b#, and, conjecturally again, assigns both to Newcastle. #c#, #d#, #e# are also without date. #c# may be as old as #b#; #d#, #e# are at least not old, and #f# is of this century. The ballad was given under the title ‘Græme and Bewick,’ in Scott’s Minstrelsy, 1803, III, 93, “from the recitation of a gentleman” who remembered it but imperfectly. In a succeeding edition, III, 66, 1833, deficiencies were partly supplied and some different readings adopted “from a copy obtained by the recitation of an ostler in Carlisle.” The first copy (entitled ‘Chirstie Græme’) was sent Scott by William Laidlaw, January 3, 1803 (Letters, vol. i, No 78), as taken down by him from the singing of Mr Walter Grieve, in Craik, on Borthwick Water. It is preserved in “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 89, Abbotsford (#h#); and in the same volume, No 145, is what is shown by internal evidence to be the ostler’s copy (#g#). Both copies were indisputably derived from print, though #h# may have passed through several mouths. #g# agrees with #b-f# closely as to minute points of phraseology which it is difficult to believe that a reciter would have retained. It looks more like an immediate, though faulty, transcript from print. Of many deviations, though most may be charge-able to a bad copyist, or, if one pleases, a bad memory, others indicate an original which differed in some particulars from #b-f#; and the same may perhaps be true of #h#, which is, however, of only very trifling value.[92]
‘The Brothers-in-Arms,’ Maidment, Scotish Ballads and Songs, 1868, II, 150, is Scott’s later copy.
Old Graham and old Bewick are drinking together at Carlisle. Graham proposes the health of their respective sons. Bewick demurs. Young Graham is no peer for young Bewick, who is good at both books and arms, whereas Graham is no scholar. Old Graham goes home mortified and angry, repeats to his son Christy what Bewick had said, and bids him, as he would have his blessing, prove that he can at least hold his own in a fight with young Bewick. Christy is ‘faith and troth,’ or sworn-brother, to young Bewick, and begs his father to forbear. The father insists; Christy may make his choice, to fight with young Bewick or with himself. Christy, upon reflection, concludes that it would be a less crime to kill his sworn-brother than to kill his father, but swears that, should it be his lot to kill his friend, he will never come home alive. He arms himself and goes to seek his comrade. Bewick, who has been teaching his five scholars their fence, and apparently also their psalms, is walking in his father’s close, with his sword under his arm, and sees a man in armor riding towards him. Recognizing Graham, he welcomes him affectionately. Graham informs him that he has come to fight with him, rehearses the scene with old Graham, and puts by all his friend’s remonstrances and the suggestion that the fathers may be reconciled through arbitrators. Forced to fight, Bewick vows, as Graham had done, that, if it be his fortune to kill his brother, he will never go home alive. Graham throws off his armor that he may have no advantage; they fight two hours with no result, and then Graham gives Bewick one of those ‘ackward’ strokes which have determined several duels in foregoing ballads. The wound is deadly; Bewick intreats Graham to fly the country; Graham swears that his vow shall be kept, leaps on his sword and is the first to die. Old Bewick comes up and is disposed to congratulate his son on his victory. Young Bewick begs him to make one grave for both, and to lay young Graham on the sunny side, for he had been the better man. The two fathers indulge in exclamations of grief.
I am persuaded that there was an older and better copy of this ballad than those which are extant. The story is so well composed, proportion is so well kept, on the whole, that it is reasonable to suppose that certain passages (as stanzas 3, 4, 50) may have suffered some injury. There are also phrases which are not up to the mark of the general style, as the hack-rhymester lines at 7^3, 19^2. But it is a fine-spirited ballad as it stands, and very infectious.
“The ballad is remarkable,” observes Sir Walter Scott, “as containing probably the very latest allusion to the institution of brotherhood in arms.” And he goes on to say: “The quarrel of the two old chieftains over their wine is highly in character. Two generations have not elapsed [1803] since the custom of drinking deep and taking deadly revenge for slight offences produced very tragical events on the border; to which the custom of going armed to festive meetings contributed not a little.”
Scott’s later edition is translated by Loève-Veimars, p. 323; by Rosa Warrens, Schottische Volkslieder der Vorzeit, p. 99, No 22.
* * * * *
1 Old Grahame [he] is to Carlisle gone, Where Sir Rob_ert_ Bewick there met he; In arms to the wine they are gone, And drank till they were both merry.
2 Old Grahame he took up the cup, And said, ‘Brother Bewick, here’s to thee; And here’s to our two sons at home, For they live best in our country.’
3 ‘Nay, were thy son as good as mine, And of some books he could but read, With sword and buckler by his side, To see how he could save his head,
4 ‘They might have been calld two bold brethren Where ever they did go or ride; They might [have] been calld two bold brethren, They might have crackd the Border-side.
5 ‘Thy son is bad, and is but a lad, And bully to my son cannot be; For my son Bewick can both write and read, And sure I am that cannot he.’
6 ‘I put him to school, but he would not learn, I bought him books, but he would not read; But my blessing he’s never have Till I see how his hand can save his head.’
7 Old Grahame called for an account, And he askd what was for to pay; There he paid a crown, so it went round, Which was all for good wine and hay.
8 Old Grahame is into the stable gone, Where stood thirty good steeds and three; He’s taken his own steed by the head, And home rode he right wantonly.
9 When he came home, there did he espy, A loving sight to spy or see, There did he espy his own three sons, Young Christy Grahame, the foremost was he.
10 There did he espy his own three sons, Young Christy Grahame, the foremost was he: ‘Where have you been all day, father, That no counsel you would take by me?’
11 ‘Nay, I have been in Carlisle town, Where Sir Robert Bewick there met me; He said thou was bad, and calld thee a lad, And a baffled man by thou I be.
12 ‘He said thou was bad, and calld thee a lad, And bully to his son cannot be; For his son Bewick can both write and read, And sure I am that cannot thee.
13 ‘I put thee to school, but thou would not learn. I bought thee books, but thou would not read; But my blessing thou’s never have Till I see with Bewick thou can save thy head.’
14 ‘Oh, pray forbear, my father dear; That ever such a thing should be! Shall I venture my body in field to fight With a man that’s faith and troth to me?’
15 ‘What’s that thou sayst, thou limmer loon? Or how dare thou stand to speak to me? If thou do not end this quarrel soon, Here is my glove thou shalt fight me.’
16 Christy stoopd low unto the ground, Unto the ground, as you’ll understand: ‘O father, put on your glove again, The wind hath blown it from your hand.’
17 ‘What’s that thou sayst, thou limmer loon? Or how dare thou stand to speak to me? If thou do not end this quarrel soon, Here is my hand thou shalt fight me.’
18 Christy Grahame is to his chamber gone, And for to study, as well might be, Whether to fight with his father dear, Or with his bully Bewick he.
19 ‘If it be [my] fortune my bully to kill, As you shall boldly understand, In every town that I ride through, They’ll say, There rides a brotherless man!
20 ‘Nay, for to kill my bully dear, I think it will be a deadly sin; And for to kill my father dear, The blessing of heaven I neer shall win.
21 ‘O give me your blessing, father,’ he said, ‘And pray well for me for to thrive; If it be my fortune my bully to kill, I swear I’ll neer come home alive.’
22 He put on his back a good plate-jack, And on his head a cap of steel, With sword and buckler by his side; O gin he did not become them well!
23 ‘O fare thee well, my father dear! And fare thee well, thou Carlisle town! If it be my fortune my bully to kill, I swear I’ll neer eat bread again.’
24 Now we’ll leave talking of Christy Grahame, And talk of him again belive; But we will talk of bonny Bewick, Where he was teaching his scholars five.
25 Now when he had learnd them well to fence, To handle their swords without any doubt, He’s taken his own sword under his arm, And walkd his father’s close about.
26 He lookd between him and the sun, To see what farleys he coud see; There he spy’d a man with armour on, As he came riding over the lee.
27 ‘I wonder much what man yon be That so boldly this way does come; I think it is my nighest friend, I think it is my bully Grahame.
28 ‘O welcome, O welcome, bully Grahame! O man, thou art my dear, welcome! O man, thou art my dear, welcome! For I love thee best in Christendom.’
29 ‘Away, away, O bully Bewick, And of thy bullyship let me be! The day is come I never thought on; Bully, I’m come here to fight with thee.’
30 ‘O no! not so, O bully Grahame! That eer such a word should spoken be! I was thy master, thou was my scholar: So well as I have learnëd thee.’
31 ‘My father he was in Carlisle town, Where thy father Bewick there met he; He said I was bad, and he calld me a lad, And a baffled man by thou I be.’
32 ‘Away, away, O bully Grahame, And of all that talk, man, let us be! We’ll take three men of either side To see if we can our fathers agree.’
33 ‘Away, away, O bully Bewick, And of thy bullyship let me be! But if thou be a man, as I trow thou art, Come over this ditch and fight with me.’
34 ‘O no! not so, my bully Grahame! That eer such a word should spoken be! Shall I venture my body in field to fight With a man that’s faith and troth to me?’
35 ‘Away, away, O bully Bewick, And of all that care, man, let us be! If thou be a man, as I trow thou art, Come over this ditch and fight with me.’
36 ‘Now, if it be my fortune thee, Grahame, to kill, As God’s will’s, man, it all must be; But if it be my fortune thee, Grahame, to kill, ’Tis home again I’ll never gae.’
37 ‘Thou art of my mind then, bully Bewick, And sworn-brethren will we be; If thou be a man, as I trow thou art, Come over this ditch and fight with me.’
38 He flang his cloak from [off] his shoulders, His psalm-book out of his hand flang he, He clapd his hand upon the hedge, And oer lap he right wantonly.
39 When Grahame did see his bully come, The salt tear stood long in his eye: ‘Now needs must I say that thou art a man, That dare venture thy body to fight with me.
40 ‘Now I have a harness on my back; I know that thou hath none on thine; But as little as thou hath on thy back, Sure as little shall there be on mine.’
41 He flang his jack from off his back, His steel cap from his head flang he; He’s taken his sword into his hand, He’s tyed his horse unto a tree.
42 Now they fell to it with two broa[d swords], For two long hours fought Bewick [and he]; Much sweat was to be seen on them both, But never a drop of blood to see.
43 Now Grahame gave Bewick an ackward stroke, An ackward stroke surely struck he; He struck him now under the left breast, Then down to the ground as dead fell he.
44 ‘Arise, arise, O bully Bewick, Arise, and speak three words to me! Whether this be thy deadly wound, Or God and good surgeons will mend thee.’
45 ‘O horse, O horse, O bully Grahame, And pray do get thee far from me! Thy sword is sharp, it hath wounded my heart, And so no further can I gae.
46 ‘O horse, O horse, O bully Grahame, And get thee far from me with speed! And get thee out of this country quite! That none may know who’s done the deed.’
47 ‘O if this be true, my bully dear, The words that thou dost tell to me, The vow I made, and the vow I’ll keep; I swear I’ll be the first that die.
48 Then he stuck his sword in a moody-hill, Where he lap thirty good foot and three; First he bequeathed his soul to God, And upon his own sword-point lap he.
49 Now Grahame he was the first that died, And then came Robin Bewick to see; ‘Arise, arise, O son!’ he said, ‘For I see thou’s won the victory.
50 ‘Arise, arise, O son!’ he said, ‘For I see thou’s won the victory:’ ‘[Father, co]uld ye not drunk your wine at home, [And le]tten me and my brother be?
51 ‘Nay, dig a grave both low and wide, And in it us two pray bury; But bury my bully Grahame on the sun-side, For I’m sure he’s won the victory.’
52 Now we’ll leave talking of these two brethren, In Carlisle town where they lie slain, And talk of these two good old men, Where they were making a pitiful moan.
53 With that bespoke now Robin Bewick: ‘O man, was I not much to blame? I have lost one of the liveliest lads That ever was bred unto my name.’
54 With that bespoke my good lord Grahame: ‘O man, I have lost the better block; I have lost my comfort and my joy, I have lost my key, I have lost my lock.
55 ‘Had I gone through all Ladderdale, And forty horse had set on me, Had Christy Grahame been at my back, So well as he woud guarded me.’
56 I have no more of my song to sing, But two or three words to you I’ll name; But ‘twill be talk’d in Carlisle town That these two [old] men were all the blame.
* * * * *
#a.#
The Song of Bewick and Grahame: containing an account how the Lord Grahame met with Sir Robert Bewick in the town of Carlisle, and, going to the tavern, a dispute happened betwixt them which of their sons was the better man; how Grahame rode away in a passion, and, meeting with his son, persuaded him to go and fight young Bewick, which he did accordingly; and how it prov’d both their deaths.
Licensd and enterd according to order.
2^4. love, #b-g# have live; #h#, like us.
11^4. thou. Cf. 31^4.
13^4. you can.
18^2. might he.
25^1, 36^1, 40^1, 42^1, 43^1, 49^1. Nay for Now.
37^1. art in mind then. #b#, #c#, #e#, #f#. art then of my mind.
40^{2,4}. of for on.
41^3. spear for sword: so #b-f#, but #g#, #k#, sword.
42^{1,2}, 50^{3,4}. The top corner is torn off: cf. #b-f#.
#b-f.#
A remarkable and memorable Song [#f#, Remarkable and memorable History] of Sir Robert Bewick and the Laird Graham, giving an account of Laird Graham’s meeting with Sir Robert Bewick in the town of Carlisle, and, they going to a tavern, a dispute happened betwixt them which of their sons was the best man. How Graham rode home in a passion, and caused his son to fight young Bewick, which proved their deaths.
1^1. #b#, #c#, #d#, #e#. he is. #f.# he has.
1^4. #b.# drink.
2^1. #d.# he wanting.
2^4. live best.
3^4. #b.# safe.
4^2. do go.
4^3. might have.
5^1. he is. 5^{3,4}. Wanting.
6^4. how he can.
7^1. he calld.
7^2. what there was to.
7^4. #b#, #d#, #e#, #f#. good wanting.
8^1. is to.
9^1. came there he did.
9^3. #d.# spy.
10^{1,2}. Wanting.
10^4. you’ll take.
11^1. been at.
11^{3,4}. #d.# Wanting.
11^3. #f.# wast. #b.# calld thou. #e.# he called.
11^4. #b.# a wanting. #b#, #c#, #e#, #f#. by thee.
12^1. #d#, #f#. wast. #e.# he called.
12^4. #b#, #c#, #d#, #e#. cannot be.
13^1. #b#, #d#, #f#. wouldst.
13^2. #b#, #d#, #e#, #f#. wouldst.
13^3. #e.# blessings.
13^4. d, e. see if with. b, d, e, f. thou canst.
14^3. #d.# in a.
15^1. #d.# you say, you. #e.# thou says.
15^2. #d#, #e#, #f#. dare you.
16^1. #d#, #e#. Christy he.
17^2. dare you. #f.# Or wanting.
17^3. If you.
18^2. might be. #c.# for no study, wrongly.
19^1. be my.
19^3. #d.# town as.
20^1. my brother.
20^2. it were.
20^4. #d.# blessings.
21^2. me then to.
21^4. #b#, #d#, #e#, #f#. I shall, #b#-#f#. never.
22^1. good old. #b#, #d#, #e#, #f#. jacket. #c.# jack.
22^4. weel.
23^1. #b.# O fare the torn away. #d.# weel.
23^2. #b.# And fa torn away.
23^4. #c#, #d#, #e#. I’ll swear.
24^1. leave off. #d#, #e#, #f#. we leave.
24^2. #b#, #c#, #f#. of them.
25^1. #b#, #d#, #e#, #f#. Now, #c.# Nay. #b#-#f#. learned: well wanting.
25^3. own wanting.
26^1. #b#, #c#. between them.
26^3. #b#, #c#, #d#, #e#. espy’d. #f.# And espied.
27^2. doth.
27^3. #b.# is wanting.
28^1. my bully.
29^3. #b#, #c#, #e#, #f#. come that I neer. #d.# come neer.
29^4. #b#, #c#, #d#, #e#. come hither.
30^1. #d.# my bully.
30^3. #b#, #d#, #e#, #f#. and thou wast. #c.# and thou was.
30^4. #b#, #c#, #d#. as wanting, #b.# have wanting.
31^3. #d#, #e#, #f#. he wanting.
31^4. #d.# a wanting. #f.# by you.
32^2. all wanting.
32^3. on either. #b#, #c.# make.
33^3, 35^3, 37^3. #b#, #c#, #e#. I true.
33^3. #d.# thou be.
34^3. #d.# in a.
34^4. #b.# truth.
35^1. thou for O.
35^2. all that wanting.
36^1. #b#, #c#, #d#, #e#. Nay. #f.# Now.
36^2. will. #b#, #c#. almost.
36^3. #f.# But wanting.
36^4. #d.# I’d.
37^1. #b#, #c#, #e#, #f#. art then of my mind. #d.# then wanting.
37^2. #d#, #e#, #f#. we will.
38^1. from off. #d.# flung. #b.# shoulder.
38^2. #b#, #c#, #d#, #e#. book from off (#d#, from) his shoulders.
39^2. tears.
39^3. that wanting.
40^1. Nay.
40^2. none on. #f.# hast.
40^3. #c#, #d#, #f#. hast.
40^4. be on. #f#. Sure wanting.
41^1. jacket.
41^2. #b#, #c#, #d#, #e#. from off. #f.# cap of steel.
41^3. his spear.
42^1. #b#, #d#, #e#, #f#. Now. #c.# Nay. #b#-#f#. broad swords.
42^2. and he.
43^1. #b#, #d#, #e#, #f#. Now. #c.# Nay.
43^3. #f.# now wanting.
44^3. #d#, #e#. Were this to be.
45^3. #b#, #c#, #f#. it is. #d.# has wounded.
46^4. That not one.
47^1. Oh.
47^2. #b#, #d#, #e#. doth.
47^4. #d#, #e#, #f#. first to.
48^1. #b#, #c#. struck, #b#-#f#. mould hill.
48^2. #b#, #c#, #d#, #e#. Then he leapd. #f.# And he leapt. #b#-#f#. feet.
48^4. sword leapd he.
49^1. #b#, #d#, #e#, #f#. Now. #c.# Nay.
49^2. then Robert (#d#, #e#, #f#, Sir Robert) Bewick came. #c.# see wanting.
50^{1,2}. #d#, #f#. Wanting.
50^3. #b#, #c#, #d#, #e#. Father, could you not drink. #f.# could not you drink.
50^4. And letten: my bully.
51^1. #f.# Now.
52^1. leave of, off: these bold.
52^2. they were.
53^1. #b#, #c#, #d#, #e#. Robert, #b.# Berwick.
54^1. #d#, #e#, #f#. laird.
55^1. Lauderdale.
55^2. #d.# horses set.
55^4. well he would have.
56^2. #b#, #d#, #e#, #f#. to you wanting. #f.# I will.
56^3. #f.# But wanting.
56^4. #b#, #c#. two old.
Readings found only in #f# which have an editorial character.
6^3. he shall.
12^4. And sure I cannot say that of thee.
13^3. thou shalt.
13^4. Till with Bewick thou canst.
22^4. And O he did become.
29^4. Bully wanting: I’m hither come to fight with thee.
38^2. psalm-book from his pouch.
44^3. Is this to be thy deadly wound.
53^1. And now up spake Sir Robert Bewick.
54^1. With that up spake my good laird.
#g.#
(Only partially collated.)
1^2. he is.
2^2. Billy Bewick.
2^4. leave (==live).
5^2. billy, and always.
5^{3,4}. Wanting.
6^4. see with Bewick he can. Cf. 13^4.
7^4. good wine, as in #a#, #c#.
10^{1,2}. Wanting.
10^4. you will take.
12^4. cannot be.
13^{1,2}. would.
13^3. thou shall.
14^2. should spoken be. Cf. 30^2.
20^1. my brother.
20^2. think that were.
22^1. good ould jack.
24^1. leave of.
25^1, 36^1, 40^1, 42^1, 43^1, 44^1. Nay.
25^1. had teacht.
28^1. my billey.
30^1. my billy.
30^4. have teacht.
31^4. by thou.
35^1. thou for O.
36^2. will.
36^3. Nay for But.
37^1. then wanting.
38^1. from of his back.
38^2. book from his shoulders.
39^2. tear.
39^4. in feald to fight.
40^4. Sure wanting.
41^1. jacket from.
41^3. sword for spear: much better.
48^1. mould hill.
48^2. feet.
48^4. lept.
50^4. my billy.
51^3. sunney side.
52^1. leave of: thease bould.
52^2. they were.
53^4. was born.
55^4. well he would a.
56^4. two old.
#h.#
2^4. like us best.
5^2. billie, and always.
41^3. he stuck his sword into the grund.
48^1. moudie hill.
51^3. on the sunny side.
The Common Place Book of Ancient and Modern Ballad, etc., p. 292, gives 18 thus:
Then Christie Graham’s to his chamber gane, And his thoughts within him made him sick, Whether he suld fight wi his auld father, Or wi his billie, learnd Bewick.
212
THE DUKE OF ATHOLE’S NURSE
#A.# Cromek’s Select Scotish Songs, 1810, II, 196.
#B.# Skene MS., p. 10.
#C.# ‘Duke of Athole’s Gates,’ Kinloch MSS, I, 335.
#D.# ‘Duke of Athole’s Nurse,’ Kinloch MSS, I, 337.
#E.# #a.# ‘Duke o Athole’s Nourice,’ Kinloch MSS, VII, 171. #b.# ‘The Duke of Athol’s Nourice,’ Kinloch’s Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 127.
#F.# ‘The Duke of Athole’s Nurse.’ #a.# Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 23. #b.# Christie’s Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 80.
#M#, #N# of No 214 have stanzas belonging here. #M# 1, 3 = #A# 3, 5; #N# 4, 6, 7 = #A# 2, 4, 5. #A# 1^{1,2}, 2 nearly, are found in No 213, ‘Sir James the Rose,’ 4^{1,2}, 5, where also there is a treacherous leman.
#B.# The ‘new-come darling’ of the Duke of Athole offers the duke’s nurse a ring if she will carry a word to her leman. This leman had previously been the nurse’s lover, and comes to tell her that another has now possession of his heart. The nurse plans revenge, but dissimulates; she tells the faithless fellow to go for the night to an ale-house, and she will meet him there in the morning. But instead of the nurse he sees a band of men, her seven brothers (nine brothers, #F#), coming towards the house, and easily divines that they are come to slay him. He appeals to the landlady to save him; she dresses him in woman’s clothes and sets him to her baking. The seven brothers ask the landlady if she had a lodger last night; they are come to pay his reckoning. A lodger had been there, but he did not stay till morning. They search the house and stab the beds, often passing the sham baking-maid without detecting the disguise.
#C-F# have nothing about the ‘new-come darling,’ but begin at once with the nurse, who longs for her lover, and would give her half-year’s fee to see him. He appears, and avows to her that another woman has gained his heart.
* * * * *
A
Cromek’s Select Scotish Songs, 1810, II, 196, 194; sent, with other fragments, by Robert Burns to William Tytler, August, 1790; stanzas 2–6.
* * * * *
1 ‘Where shall I gang, my ain true love? Where shall I gang to hide me? For weel ye ken i yere father’s bowr It wad be death to find me.’
2 ‘O go you to yon tavern-house, An there count owre your lawin, An, if I be a woman true, I’ll meet you in the dawin.’
3 O he’s gone to yon tavern-house, An ay he counted his lawin, An ay he drank to her guid health Was to meet him in the dawin.
4 O he’s gone to yon tavern-house, An counted owre his lawin, When in there cam three armed men, To meet him in the dawin.
5 ‘O woe be unto woman’s wit! It has beguiled many; She promised to come hersel, But she sent three men to slay me.’
* * * * *
B
Skene MS., p. 10; taken down in the north of Scotland, 1802–3.
1 ‘Ye are the Duke of Athol’s nurse, And I’m the new-come darling; I’ll gie you my gay gold rings To get ae word of my leman.’
2 ‘I am the Duke of Athol’s nurse, And ye’re the new-come darling; Keep well your gay gold rings, Ye sall get twa words o your leman.’
3 He leand oure his saddle-bow, It was not for to kiss her: ‘Anither woman has my heart, And I but come here to see ye.’
4 ‘If anither woman has your heart, O dear, but I am sorry! Ye hie you down to yon ale house, And stay untill ‘t be dawing, And if I be a woman true I’ll meet you in the dawing.’
5 He did him down to yon ale-house, And drank untill ’twas dawing; He drank the bonnie lassie’s health That was to clear his lawing.
6 He lookit out of a shot-window, To see if she was coming, And there he seed her seven brithers, So fast as they were running!
7 He went up and down the house, Says, ‘Landlady, can you save me? For yonder comes her seven brithers, And they are coming to slay me.’
8 So quick she minded her on a wile How she might protect him! She dressd him in a suit of woman’s attire And set him to her baking.
9 ‘Had you a quarterer here last night, Or staid he to the dawing? Shew us the room the squire lay in, We are come to clear his lawing.’
10 ‘I had a quarterer here last night, But he staid not to the dawing; He called for a pint, and paid as he went, You have nothing to do with his lawing.’
11 They searchd the house baith up and down, The curtains they spaird not to rive em, And twenty times they passd The squire at his baking.
* * * * *
C
Kinloch MSS, I, 335.
1 As I went down by the Duke of Athole’s gates, Where the bells of the court were ringing, And there I heard a fair maid say, O if I had but ae sight o my Johnie!
2 ‘O here is your Johnie just by your side; What have ye to say to your Johnie? O here is my hand, but anither has my heart, So ye’ll never get more o your Johnie.’
3 ‘O ye may go down to yon ale-house, And there do sit till the dawing; And call for the wine that is very, very fine, And I’ll come and clear up your lawing.’
4 So he’s gane down to yon ale-house, And he has sat till the dawing; And he’s calld for the wine that’s very, very fine, But she neer cam to clear up his lawing.
5 Lang or the dawing he oure the window looks, To see if his true-love was coming, And there he spied twelve weel armd boys, Coming over the plainstanes running.
6 ‘O landlady, landlady, what shall I do? For my life it’s not worth a farthing!’ ‘O young man,’ said she, ‘tak counsel by me, And I will be your undertaking.
7 ‘I will clothe you in my own body-clothes And I’ll send you like a girl to the baking:’ And loudly, loudly they rapped at the door, And loudly, loudly they rappëd.
8 ‘O had you any strangers here late last night? Or were they lang gane or the dawing? O had you any strangers here late last night? We are now come to clear up his lawing.’
9 ‘O I had a stranger here late last night, But he was lang gane or the dawing; He called for a pint, and he paid it as he went, And ye’ve no more to do with his lawing.’
10 ‘O show me the room that your stranger lay in, If he was lang gane or the dawing:’ She showed them the room that her stranger lay in, But he was lang gane or the dawing.
11 O they stabbed the feather-bed all round and round, And the curtains they neer stood to tear them; And they gade as they cam, and left a’ things undone, And left the young squire by his baking.
* * * * *
D
Kinloch MSS, I, 337.
1 As I cam in by the Duke of Athole’s gate, I heard a fair maid singing, Wi a bonny baby on her knee, And the bells o the court were ringing.
2 ‘O it’s I am the Duke of Athole’s nurse, And the place does well become me; But I would gie a’ my half-year’s fee Just for a sight o my Johnie.
* * * * * *
3 ‘If ye’ll gae down to yon ale-house, And stop till it be dawing, And ca for a pint o the very, very best, And I’ll come and clear up your lawing.’
4 O he’s gane down to yon ale-house, And stopt till it was dawing; He ca’d for a pint o the very, very best, But she cam na to clear up his lawing.
5 He looked out at the chamber-window, To see if she was coming; And there he spied ten armed men, Across the plain coming running.
6 ‘O landlady, landlady, what shall I do? For my life is not worth a farthing; I paid you a guinea for my lodging last night, But I fear I’ll never see sun shining.’
7 ‘If ye will be advised by me, I’ll be your undertaking; I’ll dress you up in my ain body-clothes And set you to the baking.’
8 So loudly at the door they rapt, So loudly are they calling, ‘O had you a stranger here last night, Or is he within your dwalling?’
9 ‘O I had a stranger here last night, But he wos gane or dawing; He ca’d for a pint, and he paid it or he went, And I hae nae mair to do wi his lawing.’
10 They stabd the feather-beds round and round, The curtains they spared na to tear them; But they went as they came, and left a’ things undone, And the young man busy baking.
* * * * *
E
#a.# Kinloch MSS, VII, 171; from the recitation of Mrs Charles, Torry. #b.# Kinloch’s Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 127.
1 ‘I am the Duke o Athole’s nurse, My part does weill become me, And I wad gie aw my half-year’s fee For ae sicht o my Johnie.’
2 ‘Keep weill, keep weill your half-year’s fee, For ye’ll soon get a sicht o your Johnie; But anither woman has my heart, And I’m sorry for to leave ye.’
3 ‘Ye’ll dow ye doun to yon changehouse, And ye’ll drink till the day be dawin; At ilka pint’s end ye’ll drink my health out, And I’ll come and pay for the lawin.’
4 Ay he ranted and he sang, And drank till the day was dawin, And ay he drank the bonnie lassy’s health That was coming to pay the lawin.
5 He spared na the sack, tho it was dear, The wine nor the sugar-candy, . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
6 He’s dune him to the shot-window, To see an she was coming, And there he spied twelve armed men, That oure the plain cam rinning.
7 He’s dune him doun to the landlady, To see gin she wad protect him; She’s buskit him up into women’s claiths And set him till a baking.
8 Sae loudly as they rappit at the yett, Sae loudly as they callit, ‘Had ye onie strangers here last nicht, That drank till the day was dawin?’
* * * * * *
* * * * *
F
#a.# Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 23. #b.# Christie’s Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 80.
1 As I gaed in yon greenwood-side, I heard a fair maid singing; Her voice was sweet, she sang sae complete That all the woods were ringing.
2 ‘O I’m the Duke o Athole’s nurse, My post is well becoming; But I woud gie a’ my half-year’s fee For ae sight o my leman.’
3 ‘Ye say, ye’re the Duke o Athole’s nurse, Your post is well becoming; Keep well, keep well your half-year’s fee, Ye’se hae twa sights o your leman.’
4 He leand him ower his saddle-bow And cannilie kissd his dearie: ‘Ohon and alake! anither has my heart, And I darena mair come near thee.’
5 ‘Ohon and alake! if anither hae your heart, These words hae fairly undone me; But let us set a time, tryst to meet again, Then in gude friends you will twine me.
6 ‘Ye will do you down to yon tavern-house And drink till the day be dawing, And, as sure as I ance had a love for you, I’ll come there and clear your lawing.
7 ‘Ye’ll spare not the wine, altho it be fine, Nae Malago, tho it be rarely, But ye’ll aye drink the bonnie lassie’s health That’s to clear your lawing fairly.’
8 Then he’s done him down to yon tavern-house And drank till day was dawing, And aye he drank the bonny lassie’s health That was coming to clear his lawing.
9 And aye as he birled, and aye as he drank, The gude beer and the brandy, He spar’d not the wine, altho it was fine, The sack nor the sugar candy.
10 ‘It’s a wonder to me,’ the knight he did say, ‘My bonnie lassie’s sae delaying; She promisd, as sure as she loved me ance, She woud be here by the dawing.’
11 He’s done him to a shott-window, A little before the dawing, And there he spied her nine brothers bauld, Were coming to betray him.
12 ‘Where shall I rin? where shall I gang? Or where shall I gang hide me? She that was to meet me in friendship this day Has sent nine men to slay me!’
13 He’s gane to the landlady o the house, Says, ‘O can you supply me? For she that was to meet me in friendship this day Has sent nine men to slay me.’
14 She gae him a suit o her ain female claise And set him to the baking; The bird never sang mair sweet on the bush Nor the knight sung at the baking.
15 As they came in at the ha-door, Sae loudly as they rappit! And when they came upon the floor, Sae loudly as they chappit!
16 ‘O had ye a stranger here last night, Who drank till the day was dawing? Come show us the chamber where he lyes in, We’ll shortly clear his lawing.’
17 ‘I had nae stranger here last night That drank till the day was dawing; But ane that took a pint, and paid it ere he went, And there’s naething to clear o his lawing.’
18 A lad amang the rest, being o a merry mood, To the young knight fell a-talking; The wife took her foot and gae him a kick, Says, Be busy, ye jilt, at your baking.
19 They stabbed the house baith but and ben, The curtains they spared nae riving, And for a’ that they did search and ca, For a kiss o the knight they were striving.
#E. a.#
1^1. nurse altered to nurice.
3^3. drink the bonnie out, originally.
4^1. drank struck out for sang.
7^2. and struck out before gin.
8^2. callit changed in pencil to were calling.
#b.#
The printed copy seems to have been made up from #a# and Kinloch’s other versions.
1. Preceded by these two lines, taken from #D#:
As I cam in by Athol’s yetts, I heard a fair maid singing.
1^2. And I wat it weel does set me.
3^2. ye’ll omitted. 3^3. drink the lass’ health.
3^4. That’s coming to pay the. (This stanza occurs in Motherwell’s Note-Book, p. 46, where it is credited to a MS.)
After 3:
He hied him doun to yon change-house, And he drank till the day was dawing, And at ilka pint’s end he drank the lass’ health That was coming to pay for his lawing.
4^1. and aye.
6^2. see gin she war.
6^3. There he saw the duke and a’ his merry men.
6^4. the hill. 7^1. doun omitted.
7^3. She buskit: woman’s.
8^2. they war calling.
8^3. Had ye a young man here yestreen.
After 8:
‘He drank but ae pint, and he paid it or he went, And ye’ve na mair to do wi the lawing.’ They searchit the house a’ round and round, And they spared na the curtains to tear them,
While the landlady stood upo the stair-head, Crying, ‘Maid, be busy at your baking!’ They gaed as they cam, and left a’ undone, And left the bonnie maid at her baking.
#F. b.#
“Some alterations made from the way it was sung” by the editor’s maternal grandfather.
4^2. And kindly said, My dearie.
6^3. as you ance had a love for me.
11^4. That were.
12^2. Where shall I gang to hide me.
14^4. Than the.
213
SIR JAMES THE ROSE
‘Sir James the Rose.’ #a.# From a stall-tract of about 1780, Abbotsford library. #b.# Motherwell’s Minstrelsy, p. 321. #c.# Sir James the Rose’s Garland, one of a volume of the like from Heber’s library. #d.# Motherwell’s MS., p. 281; from the recitation of Mrs Gentles, of Paisley. #e.# Herd’s MSS, I, 82. #f.# The same, II, 42. #g.# ‘Sir James the Rose,’ Pinkerton’s Scottish Tragic Ballads, 1781, p. 61.
#b#, says Motherwell, “is given as it occurs in early stall-prints, and as it is to be obtained from the recitations of elderly people.” Most of the variations are derived from #d#. #c# may have been printed earlier than #a#, but is astonishingly faulty. #d#, well remembered from print, is what Motherwell meant by “the recitations of elderly people.” #e# was obtained by Herd, probably from recitation, as early as 1776, but must have been learned from print. #f# is #e# with a few missing lines supplied. #g#, says Pinkerton, “is given from a modern edition in one sheet 12mo,” but was beyond question considerably manipulated by the editor. All the important variations are certainly his work.
The copy in Buchan’s Gleanings, p. 9, is #g#. Whitelaw, in his Book of Scotish Ballads, p. 39, has combined #b# and #g#.
Half a dozen lines preserved by Burns, Cromek’s Select Scotish Songs, II, 196 (see the preface to No 212), seem to belong to this ballad.
‘Sir James the Ross, A Historical Ballad’ (sometimes called ‘The Buchanshire Tragedy’), was composed by the youthful Michael Bruce ([+] 1767) upon the story of the popular ballad, and has perhaps enjoyed more favor with “the general” than the original.[93] ‘Elfrida and Sir James of Perth,’ Caw’s Poetical Museum, 1784, p. 290 (probably taken, as most of the pieces are by the collector said to be, from some periodical publication), looks more like an imitation of Bruce’s ballad than of its prototype. It is in fact a stark plagiarism.
Sir James the Rose has killed a squire, and men are out to take him. A nurse at the house of Marr is his leman, and he resorts to her in the hope that she may befriend him. She advises him to go to an ale-house for the night, promising to meet him there in the morning; he says he will do so, but, perhaps from distrust, which proves to be well grounded, prefers to wrap himself in his plaid and sleep under the sky. The party sent out to take him question the nurse, who at first makes a deceptive answer, then gives them a direction to his hiding-place. They find James the Rose asleep and take away his arms; he wakes and begs for mercy, and is told that he shall have such as he has given. He appeals to his servant to stay by him till death, and then to take his body to Loch Largan (Loughargan), for which service the man shall have his clothes and valuables. The avengers cut out his heart and take it to his leman at the house of Marr; she raves over her treachery, and is ‘born away’ bodily, to be seen no more.
#e#, #f#, it may be by accident, lack the vulgar passage 18, 19, which may be a later addition, for nothing is said of a man being in attendance when Sir James goes to his lair. The leader of the band that takes Sir James the Rose is Sir James the Graham, Sir James Graham, in #c#, #e#, #f#; a simple error, evidently. No motive is furnished in #a-f# for the woman’s betraying her leman. #g# makes her offer information on condition of getting a proper reward, and she is promised Sir James’s purse and brechan, but in the end is tendered his bleeding heart and his bleeding tartan, whatever that may be other than his brechan. This must be one of Pinkerton’s improvements. The moral tag, st. 24, is dropped, or wanting, in #c#, #e#, #f#, #g#.
The topography of traditional ballads frequently presents difficulties, both because it is liable to be changed, wholly, or, what is more embarrassing, partially, to suit a locality to which a ballad has been transported, and again because unfamiliar names, when not exchanged, are exposed to corruption. Some of the places, also, have not a dignity which entitles them to notice in gazetteers. The first point, in the case before us, would be to settle the whereabouts of the House of Marr, in the vicinity of which the scene is laid. This I am unable to do. There is a Ballechin in Logierait Parish, Perthshire. There is said to be a Baleichan in Forfarshire.[94] It is not easy to see why the heir of either of these places (Buleighan and the rest may stand for either) should wish to have his body taken to Loch Largon in Invernesshire, if Loch Largon means Loch Laggan, as seems likely.[95]
Translated by Knortz, Schottische Balladen, p. 79, after Aytoun.
* * * * *
1 O heard ye of Sir James the Rose, The young heir of Buleighen? For he has killd a gallant squire, An ‘s friends are out to take him.
2 Now he’s gone to the House of Marr, Where the nourrice was his leman; To see his dear he did repair, Thinking she would befriend him.
3 ‘Where are you going, Sir James?’ she says, ‘Or where now are you riding?’ ‘O I am bound to a foreign land, For now I’m under hiding.
4 ‘Where shall I go? Where shall I run? Where shall I go to hide me? For I have killd a gallant squire, And they’re seeking to slay me.’
5 ‘O go ye down to yon ale-house, And I’ll pay there your lawing; And, if I be a woman true, I’ll meet you in the dawing.’
6 ‘I’ll not go down to yon ale-house, For you to pay my lawing; There’s forty shillings for one supper, I’ll stay in ‘t till the dawing.’
7 He’s turnd him right and round about And rowd him in his brechan, And he has gone to take a sleep, In the lowlands of Buleighen.
8 He was not well gone out of sight, Nor was he past Milstrethen, Till four and twenty belted knights Came riding oer the Leathen.
9 ‘O have you seen Sir James the Rose, The young heir of Buleighen? For he has killd a gallant squire, And we’re sent out to take him.’
10 ‘O I have seen Sir James,’ she says, ‘For he past here on Monday; If the steed be swift that he rides on, He’s past the gates of London.’
11 But as they were going away, Then she calld out behind them; ‘If you do seek Sir James,’ she says, ‘I’ll tell you where you’ll find him.
12 ‘You’ll seek the bank above the mill, In the lowlands of Buleighen, And there you’ll find Sir James the Rose, Lying sleeping in his brechan.
13 ‘You must not wake him out of sleep, Nor yet must you affright him, Till you run a dart quite thro his heart, And thro the body pierce him.’
14 They sought the bank above the mill, In the lowlands of Buleighan, And there they found Sir James the Rose, A sleeping in his brechan.
15 Then out bespoke Sir John the Græme, Who had the charge a keeping; ‘It’s neer be said, dear gentlemen, We’ll kill him when he’s sleeping.’
16 They seizd his broadsword and his targe, And closely him surrounded; But when he wak’d out of his sleep, His senses were confounded.
17 ‘O pardon, pardon, gentlemen! Have mercy now upon me!’ ‘Such as you gave, such you shall have, And so we’ll fall upon thee.’
18 ‘Donald my man, wait me upon, And I’ll give you my brechan, And, if you stay here till I die, You’ll get my trews of tartan.
19 ‘There is fifty pounds in my pocket, Besides my trews and brechan; You’ll get my watch and diamond ring; And take me to Loch Largon.’
20 Now they have taken out his heart And stuck it on a spear, Then took it to the House of Marr, And gave it to his dear.
21 But when she saw his bleeding heart She was like one distracted; She smote her breast, and wrung her hands, Crying, ‘What now have I acted!
22 ‘Sir James the Rose, now for thy sake O but my heart’s a breaking! Curst be the day I did thee betray, Thou brave knight of Buleighen.’
23 Then up she rose, and forth she goes, All in that fatal hour, And bodily was born away, And never was seen more.
24 But where she went was never kend, And so, to end the matter, A traitor’s end, you may depend, Can be expect’d no better.
* * * * *
#a.#
From “A collection of Popular Ballads and Tales,” in six volumes, “formed by me,” says Sir W. Scott, “when a boy, from the baskets of the travelling pedlars.... It contains most of the pieces that were popular about thirty years since.” (“1810.”) Vol. IV, No 21. In stanzas of eight lines.
#b.#
1^2. Buleighan, and always.
2^3. To seek (#d#).
5^2. there pay.
5^3. maiden true (#d#).
11^1. As they rode on, man after man.
11^2. she cried.
11^3. James the Rose.
12^1. Seek ye the bank abune.
13^3. you drive (#d#).
13^4. through his (#d#).
14^1. abune (#d#).
14^4. Lying sleeping (#d#).
15^1. Up then spake (#d#).
15^3. It shall (#d#).
15^4. We killed: when a (#d#).
16^3. And (#d#).
17^4. we fall (#d#).
20^1. they’ve taen out his bleeding heart (#d#).
21^3. wrung her hands and tore her hair (#d#).
21^4. Oh, what have I.
22^1. It’s for your sake, Sir J. the R. (#d#).
22^2. That my poor heart’s (#d#).
23^3. She bodily.
24^4. Can never be no.
#c.#
1^1. Did you hear.
1^2. That young.
1^2, 7^4, 9^2. Belichan.
1^3. For wanting.
1^4. Who was sent out.
2^1. Now wanting.
2^2. nurse she was his layman.
3^2. where are you a.
3^3. I am going to some land.
3^4. For I am.
4^1. Where must: I turn.
4^2. I run.
4^3, 9^3. esquire.
4^4. And my friends are out to take me.
5^1. Go you.
5^2. There you’ll stay till the dawning.
5^4. I’ll come and pay your lawing.
6^1. down wanting.
6^2. To stay unto the dawning.
6^3. Now if you be a woman true.
6^4. [D] o (?) come and pay the lawning.
7^1. himself quite round.
7^3. he is.
8^1. not quite out.
8^2. Wanting.
8^4. ore Beligham.
9^1. did you see.
9^2. That.
9^3. For wanting.
9^4. Who was sent.
10^1. Oh yes, I seed S. J. the R.
10^2. He passed by here.
10^3. His steed was: rid.
10^4. And past.
11^1. Just as.
11^2. They thought no more upon him.
11^3. Oh if you want S. J. the R.
12^2. And the: Belighan.
12^3. And wanting.
13 as 14.
13^1. him from his.
13^2. you wanting.
13^3. But in his breast must run a dart.
14 as 13.
14^2. And lowlands.
14^4. Lying sleeping.
15^1. up bespoke Sir James the Graham.
15^2. charge in.
15^3. Let it neer: gentleman.
15^4. We killd a man a sleeping.
16^1. They have taken from him his sword and target.
16^3. wakened out of sleep.
16^4. was.
17^1. O wanting.
17^2. And now have mercy on.
17^3. Which as.
17^4. And so shall fall upon you.
18^2. Until I be a dead man.
18^3. You’ll get my hose, likewise my shoes.
18^4. Likewise my Highland brichan.
19^{1,2}. Wanting.
19^{3,4} with 20^{1,2}: 20^{3,4} with 21^{1,2}: 21^{3,4} with 22^{3,4}: 22^{1,2} wanting.
19^3. You shall have my.
19^4. If you’ll carry me to Loughargan.
20^1. tane out his bleeding heart.
20^2. And fetched it on a spear man.
20^3. And locked it to the Marr.
20^4. A present to. 21^2. She ran.
21^3. She wrung her hands and smote her breast.
21^4. Oh what have I done, what have I acted.
22^3. day I you betrayd.
22^4. of Brichan.
23^1. Then wanting.
23^2. And in.
23^3. Her body by.
23^4. never was heard tell of: more wanting.
24. Wanting.
#d.#
1^2. Buleichan, and always.
1^4. And his.
2^1. Now wanting.
2^3. To seek.
3. Wanting.
4^4. They’re seeking for to.
5^2. there I’ll pay.
5^3. a maiden.
6^1. no gae.
6^3. thirty shillings for your.
6^4. And stay until the.
8^1. He had.
8^2. And past the Mill strethan.
10^1. S. J. the Rose.
11^1. But wanting.
11^2. She cried out.
11^3. S. J. the Rose.
12^1. Search the.
13^3. you drive.
13^4. through his.
14^1. They searched: abune.
14^4. Lying sleeping.
15^1. Up then spoke.
15^3. It shall.
15^4. We killed him when a.
16^3. And.
17^4. we fall.
19^1. There is wanting.
20^1. They’ve taen out his bleeding.
20^3. And they’ve gone to.
20^4. And gien.
21^1. But wanting.
21^3. She wrung her hands and tore her hair.
21^4. Crying, Now what.
22^1. It’s for your sake, S. J. the R.
22^2. That my poor heart’s.
23^1. Then wanting.
23^2. And in.
23^3. Bodily: She prefixed later.
24^1. kent.
24^4. Cannot expect no.
#e, f.#
#e.# Another song of Sir James the Ross; this following Bruce’s ballad, which has the title (p. 73) Sir James the Rose or de Ross. #f.# Another song of Sir James de Ross.
1^1. O did ye na ken Sir.
1^2. #e.# Ballachen, and always.
#f.# 1^2, 7^4, 9^2, Ballachen;
12^2. Ballichan;
14^2. Ballichin;
22^4. Ballichen.
1^4. #e.# And they seeking, #f.# And they’re seeking.
2^1. He’s hy’d him: Moor.
2^{2–4}, 3. #e.# Wanting.
3^2. #f.# O where away are.
3^3. #f.# to some.
4^1. O where.
4^2. O whither shall I hide me.
4^4. to kill.
5^1. #e.# gan ye. #f.# gang you.
5^2. I will pay your.
5^3. And gin there be.
6^1. gang.
6^3. shillings in my purse.
6^4. We’l stake it in the.
7^1. He turnd.
7^3. is gone.
8^2. Mill Strechin.
8^3. Ere.
8^4. the Rechin.
9^1. O saw ye.
10^1. O yes, I saw S. J. the R.
10^3. And gif: swift he: on wanting.
10^4. He’s near.
11^1. They were not well gane out o sight.
11^2. Ere she.
11^3. O gin ye seek S. J. the R.
11^4. ye where to.
12^1. Ye’ll search the bush aboon the know.
13^1. him from his sleep.
13^2. Neither man you
14^1. the bush aboon the know.
14^4. Lying sleeping.
15^1. O then spake up Sir James Graham.
15^3. Let it not be.
15^4. We killd: while.
16^1. They’ve tane his broadsword from his side.
16^2. him they have for closely him.
16^3. o for of his.
17^2. O pardon me, I pray ye.
17^8. ye gae, such shall ye hae.
17^4. There is no pardon for ye.
18, 19. Wanting.
20^1. they’ve tane out his bleeding heart.
20^2. #f.# stickt it.
20^3. Then carried, #e.# Mure, #f.# Moor.
20^4. And shewd.
21^1. But wanting.
21^2. She rav’d.
21^3. And cried, Alake, a weel (well) a day.
21^4. Alas what have.
22^2. My heart it is a.
22^3. Wae to the day I thee betrayd.
22^4. Thou bold.
23^2. In that unhappy hour.
23^4. neer was heard of more.
24. Wanting.
#g.#
1^2. Buleighan, and always.
1^4. Whase friends.
2^1. has gane.
2^2. Whar nane might seek to find him.
2^4. Weining.
3^1. said.
3^2. O whar awa are ye.
3^3. I maun be bound.
3^4. And now.
4^2. I rin to lay.
4^4. And his friends seek.
5^1. yon laigh.
5^2. I sall pay there.
5^3. And as I am your leman trew.
5^4. at the.
6. Wanting.
7^1. He turnd.
7^2. And laid him doun to.
8^3. Whan.
9^4. sent to.
10^1. Yea, I: said.
10^2. He past by here.
10^3. Gin.
10^4. the Hichts of Lundie.
11^1. as wi speid they rade awa.
11^2. She leudly cryd.
11^3. Gin ye’ll gie me a worthy meid.
11^4. whar to.
12. ‘O tell, fair maid, and, on our band, Ye’se get his purse and brechan:’ ‘He’s in the bank aboon the mill, In the lawlands o Buleighan.’
13, 14. Wanting.
15^1. out and spak.
15^3. said, my stalwart feres.
15^4. We killd him whan a.
16^{3,4}. O pardon, mercy, gentlemen! He then fou loudly sounded.
17^{3,4}–19. ‘Sic as ye gae sic ye sall hae, Nae grace we shaw to thee can.’ ‘Donald my man, wait till I fa, And ye shall hae my brechan; Ye’ll get my purse, thouch fou o gowd, To tak me to Loch Lagan.’
20^1. Syne they tuke out his bleeding heart.
20^2. And set.
20^4. And shawd.
21. We cold nae gie Sir James’s purse, We cold nae gie his brechan, But ye sall ha his bleeding heart, Bot and his bleeding tartan.
22^1. O for.
22^2. My heart is now.
22^3. day I wrocht thy wae.
22^4. brave heir.
23^{2,3}. And in that hour o tein, She wanderd to the dowie glen.
23^4. never mair was sein.
24. Wanting.
214
THE BRAES O YARROW
#A.# ‘The Braes of Yarrow,’ communicated to Percy by Dr Robertson, Principal of Edinburgh.
#B.# ‘The Braes o Yarrow,’ Murison MS., p. 105.
#C.# ‘The Dowie Downs o Yarrow,’ Motherwell’s MS., p. 334; Motherwell’s Minstrelsy, p. 252.
#D.# ‘The Bonny Braes of Yarrow,’ communicated to Percy by Robert Lambe, of Norham, 1768.
#E. a.# ‘The Dowy Houms o Yarrow,’ “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” Abbotsford. #b.# ‘The Dowie Dens of Yarrow,’ Scott’s Minstrelsy III, 72, 1803, III, 143, 1833.
#F.# ‘The Dowie Dens o Yarrow,’ “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” Abbotsford.
#G.# ‘The Dowie Dens of Yarrow,’ “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” Abbotsford.
#H.# ‘The Dowie Dens of Yarrow,’ Campbell MSS, II, 55.
#I.# ‘Braes of Yarrow,’ Buchan’s MSS, II, 161; Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 203; Dixon, Scottish Traditional Versions of Ancient Ballads, p. 68, Percy Society, vol. xvii.
#J.# ‘The Dowie Glens of Yarrow,’ “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” Abbotsford.
#K.# ‘The Dowie Den in Yarrow,’ Campbell MSS, I, 8.
#L.# ‘The Dowie Dens,’ Blackwood’s Magazine, CXLVII, 741, June, 1890.
#M.# ‘Dowie Banks of Yarrow,’ “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” Abbotsford.
#N.# ‘The Yetts of Gowrie,’ “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” Abbotsford.
#O.# Herd’s MSS, I, 35, II, 181; Herd’s Ancient and Modern Scottish Songs, 1776, I, 145; four stanzas.
#P.# Cromek’s Select Scotish Songs, 1810, II, 196; two stanzas.
First published in Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, 1803 (#E b#). Scott remarks that he “found it easy to collect a variety of copies, but very difficult indeed to select from them such a collated edition as might in any degree suit the taste of ‘these more light and giddy-paced times.’” The copy principally used was #E a#. St. 12 of Scott, which suited the taste of the last century, but does not suit with a popular ballad, is from #O#, and also st. 13, and there are traces of #F#, #G#, #M#, but 5–7 have lines which do not occur in any version that I have seen.
#A# had been somewhat edited before it was communicated to Percy; the places were, however, indicated by commas. Several copies besides #O#, already referred to, have slight passages that never came from the unsophisticated people; as #J# 2, in which a page “runs with sorrow,” for rhyme and without reason, #L# 2^3, and #L# 12^{3,4}, which is manifestly taken from Logan’s Braes of Yarrow.[96] #N# has been interpolated with artificial nonsense,[97] and is an almost worthless copy; the last stanza may defy competition for silliness.
#M# 1, 3, and #N# 4, 6, 7, belong to ‘The Duke of Athole’s Nurse.’ So also does one half of a fragment sent by Burns in a letter to William Tytler, Cromek’s Select Scotish Songs, 1810, II, 194–8, which, however, has two stanzas of this ballad (#P#) and two of ‘Rare Willie’s drowned in Yarrow,’ No 215.
The fragment in Ritson’s Scotish Songs, 1794, I, lxvii, is #O#.
Herd’s MSS, I, 36, II, 182, have the following couplets, evidently from a piece treating the story of this ballad:
O when I look east my heart is sair, But when I look west it’s mair and mair, For there I see the braes of Yarrow, And there I lost for ay my marrow.
The groups #A-I# and #J-P# are distinguished by the circumstance, of no importance to the story, that the hero and heroine in the former are man and wife, in the other unmarried lovers. In all the versions (leaving out of account the fragments #O#, #P#) the family of the woman are at variance with the man. Her brothers think him an unfit match for their sister, #A# 8, #B# 2.[98] In #C# 2 the brothers have taken offence because their sister was not regarded as his equal by her husband, which is perhaps too much of a refinement for ballads, and may be a perversion. She was worth stealing in #C# as in #B#. The dispute in two or three copies appears to take the form who is the flower, or rose, of Yarrow, that is the best man, #C# 8, 9, 17, #B# 1, 12, #D# 1, 14; but this matter is muddled, cf. #C# 2, 3, #D# 2. We hear nothing about the unequal match in #D#-#I#, but in #J-L# a young lady displeases her father by refusing nine gentlemen in favor of a servant-lad.
Men who are drinking together fall out and set a combat for the next day, #B-F#, #H#, #I#. It is three lords that drink and quarrel in #B#-#D# (ten (?) in #I#). The lady fears that her three brothers will slay her husband, #B# 5, #C# 5. The lord in #D# 2 seems not to be one of the three in #D# 1, and we are probably to understand that three brothers get into a brawl with a man who has surreptitiously married their sister. Only one brother is spoken of in #A# (6), from whom treachery is looked for, #E# 2.
In #I-L# the father makes the servant-lad fight with the nine high-born suitors.
The wife tries to keep her husband at home, #A-E#, #I#; but he is confident that all will go well, and that he shall come back to her early, #A#, #B#, #C#, #I#. She kisses (washes) and combs him, and helps to arm him, #B#, #C#, #E#, #F#, #G#, #I#; so #J#, #K#.[99] He finds nine armed men awaiting him on the braes or houms of Yarrow, #A#, #E#-#G#, #I-M#, ten #B#, #D#.[100] They ask if he has come to hawk, hunt (drink), or fight; he replies that he has come to fight, #C#, #E#, #I#; cf. #A# 5, 6. Five (four) he slays and four (five) he wounds, #A#, #B#, #D#, #E#, #I#, #J#, #K#; in #F# he kills all the nine; in #L# he gets no further than the seventh; in #G# he kills all but one.
These nine, after the way of ballads, should be the lady’s brothers, and such they are in #A# 7, 8. Three of them, but only three, should be the lady’s brothers according to #B# 1–5, #C# 1–5. Three brethren are charged by the husband with a message to his lady in #D# 8, and these might be his brothers-in-law. The message is sent in #E# 9 by a good-brother, or wife’s brother, John, who clearly was not in the fight in #E#, though the husband says he is going to meet this brother John in #A# 6. This brother-in-law of #E# is probably intended by brother in #I# 8.
After the hero has successively disposed of his nine or ten antagonists (he takes them ‘man for man’), he is stabbed from behind in a cowardly way, #A#, #B#, #C#, #E#, #I#, #L#, #N#, by somebody. The tradition is much blurred here; it is a squire out of the bush, a cowardly man, a fause lord. An Englishman shoots him with an arrow out of a bush in #D#. But other reports are distinct. The lady’s father runs him through (not from behind) in #J#, #K#. Her brother springs from a bush behind and runs him through, #L#. Her brother John comes behind him and slays him, #N#. Up and rose her brother James and slew him, #M#. In #E# “that stubborn knight” comes behind him and runs his body through, and that (a) “stubborn lord” is the author of his death in #G#, #F#. Taking #E# 2, 8, 9 together, the stubborn knight, at least in #E#, may be interpreted as good-brother John, whose treachery is feared in #E# 2, who is prominent in #A# 6, and who is expressly said to slay his sister’s true-love in #N#. On the whole, the preponderance of tradition is to the effect that the hero was treacherously slain by his wife’s (love’s) brother.
Word of her husband’s death is sent or carried to the wife by her brother, brother John, #A#, #E#, #L#, #N#; her or his three brothers, #D# 8; her or his brother, #I# 8; his man John, #C# 12, by mistake; her father (?), #J#, #K#; her sister Anne, #F#, #G#, #H#. The wife has had a dream that she, her lord or true-love and she, had been pulling green heather (birk) in Yarrow, #A#, #C-F#, #I-M#, #O#.[101] The dream is explained to signify her lord’s death, and she is enjoined to fetch him home. In #A#, the dream occurs before the fight and is double, of pulling green heather and of her love coming headless home; in #B#, the lady dreams that her lord was sleeping sound in Yarrow, and in the highly vitiated #N# that ‘he had lost his life.’
The wife hurries to Yarrow;[102] up a high, high hill and down into the valley, where she sees nine (ten) dead men, #E#, #F#, #G#, #M# (nine well-armed men, wrongly, #H#).[103] She sees her true-love lying slain, finds him sleeping sound, in Yarrow, #A#, #B#, #J#, #K#. She kisses him and combs his hair, #A#, #E#, #F#, #G#, #I#, #L#, #M#; she drinks the blood that runs from him, #E# 12, #F# 11, #G# 7, #M# 9.[104]
Her hair is five quarters long; she twists it round his hand and draws him home, #C#; ties it round his middle and carries him home, #D#. She takes three lachters of her hair, ties them tight round his middle and carries him home, #B#. His hair is five quarters long! she ties it to her horse’s mane and trails him home, #K#.[105] The carrying strikes one as unpractical, the trailing as barbarous. In #L#, after the lover is slain, the surviving lords and her brother trail him by the heels to Yarrow water and throw him into a whirlpool. The lady, searching for him, sees him ‘deeply drowned.’ His hair, which we must suppose to float, is five quarters long; she twines it round her hand and draws him out. Raising no petty questions, it appears enough to say that this is the only version of fourteen in which the drowning occurs, and that the drowning of the lover is the characteristic of No 215, the next following ballad, which has otherwise been partly confused with this.[106]
The lady’s father urges her to restrain her grief; he will wed her with as good a lord as she has lost, or a better; she rejects his suggestions. Her heart breaks, #B#, #I#; she dies in her father’s arms, #D#, #F-H#, #J-L#, being at the time big with child, #B#, #D#, #F-H#, #J#.
The lady tells her father to wed his sons, #B# 12; his seven sons, #J# 18. So ‘Clerk Saunders’ (of which this may be a reminiscence, for we do not hear of seven sons in this ballad), No 69, #G# 28; cf. #A# 26, #E# 19.
She bids him take home his ousen and his kye, #E# 15, #F# 12, #G# 8, #H# 9. This I conceive to be an interpolation by a reciter who followed the tradition cited from Hogg further on.
The message to the mother to come take up her son in #I# 8 may possibly be a reminiscence from ‘Johnie Cock,’ No 114. It occurs in no other copy, and comes in awkwardly.
‘The Braes of Yarrow’ (‘Busk ye, busk ye, my bony, bony bride’), written by William Hamilton of Bangour “in imitation of the ancient Scottish manner,’ was suggested by this ballad.[107]
‘The Dowy Dens,’ Evans’s Old Ballads, 1810, III, 342, has the same foundation. ‘The Haughs o Yarrow,’ a modern piece in Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 211, repeats with a slight change the third stanza of #O#, and has further on half a stanza from ‘Willie’s rare,’ No 215.
James Hogg, in sending #E# a to Sir Walter Scott, wrote as follows: “Tradition placeth the event on which this song is founded very early. That the song hath been written near the time of the transaction appears quite evident, although, like others, by frequent singing the language is become adapted to an age not so far distant. The bard does not at all relate particulars, but only mentions some striking features of a tragical event which everybody knew. This is observable in many of the productions of early times; at least the secondary bards seem to have regarded their songs as purely temporary.
“The hero of the ballad is said to have been of the name of Scott, and is called a knight of great bravery. He lived in Ettrick, some say at Oakwood, others Kirkhope; but was treacherously slain by his brother-in-law, as related in the ballad, who had him at ill will because his father had parted with the half of all his goods and gear to his sister on her marriage with such a respectable man. The name of the murderer is said to be Annand, a name I believe merely conjectural from the name of the place where they are said both to be buried, which at this day is called Annan’s Treat, a low muir lying to the west of Yarrow church, where two huge tall stones are erected, below which the least child that can walk the road will tell you the two lords are buried that were slain in a duel.”
Sir Walter Scott, in the revised edition of his Minstrelsy, expressed a conviction that this ballad referred to a duel fought between John Scott of Tushielaw and his brother-in-law Walter Scott of Thirlestane, in which the latter was slain.[108] Contemporary entries in the records of the Presbytery of Selkirk show that John Scott, son to Walter of Tushielaw, killed Walter Scott, brother of Sir Robert of Thirlestane, in 1609. The slain Walter Scott was not, however, the brother-in-law of John of Tushielaw, for his wife was a daughter of Sir Patrick Porteous. A violent feud ensued, as might be expected, between the Scotts of Thirlestane and of Tushielaw. Seven years later, in 1616, a Walter Scott of Tushielaw made “an informal and inordinat marriage with Grizel Scott of Thirlestane without consent of her father.” The record of the elopement is three months after followed by an entry of a summons to Simeon Scott of Bonytoun (an adherent of Thirlestane) and three other Scotts “to compear in Melrose to hear themselves excommunicat for the horrible slaughter of Walter Scott” [of Tushielaw]. Disregarding the so-called duel, we have a Walter Scott of Tushielaw carrying off a wife from the Scotts of Thirlestane, with which family he was at feud; and a Walter Scott of Tushielaw horribly slaughtered by Scotts of Thirlestane. These facts correspond rather closely with the incidents of the ballad. We do not know, to be sure, that the two Walter Scotts of Tushielaw were the same person. There were Walter Scotts many; but tradition is capable of confounding the two or the three connected with this series of events. On the other hand, there is nothing in the ballad to connect it preferably with the Scotts; the facts are such as are likely to have occurred often in history, and a similar story is found in other ballads.
In the Scandinavian ballad ‘Herr Helmer,’ Helmer has married a lady whose family are at feud with him for the unatoned slaughter of her uncle; he meets her seven brothers, who will now hear of no satisfaction; there is a fight; Helmer kills six, but spares the seventh, who treacherously kills him: Afzelius, ed. Bergström, I, 264, Arwidsson, I, 155 (etc., see II, 170 of this collection, note ‡). Other forms make the last of the brothers willing to accept an arrangement: ‘Herr Helmer Blau,’ Danske Viser, IV, 251, No 209, ‘Herr Hjælm,’ Grundtvig, Danske Folkeminder, 1861, p. 81. ‘Jomfruen i Skoven,’ Danske Viser, III, 99, No 123, has also several features of our ballad. The hero, on parting from a lady with whom he has passed the night in a wood, is warned by her to avoid her seven brothers. This he is too brave to do, and he meets them. They ask him where are his hawk and his hound. He tries, unsuccessfully, to induce them to give him their sister for wife; they fight; he kills all the seven brothers, and is slain himself, in some way not explained. (These ballads are translated in Prior, III, 371, 230.)
The next ballad has been partially confused with this.
* * * * *
#E b#, Scott’s ballad, is translated by Doenniges, p. 237; by Loève-Veimars, p. 347. Knortz, Lieder und Romanzen Alt-Englands, p. 92, translates Allingham’s ballad.
* * * * *
A
Communicated to Percy by Dr William Robertson, Principal of Edinburgh.
1 ‘I dreamed a dreary dream this night, That fills my heart wi sorrow; I dreamed I was pouing the heather green Upon the braes of Yarrow.
2 ‘O true-luve mine, stay still and dine, As ye ha done before, O;’ ‘O I’ll be hame by hours nine, And frae the braes of Yarrow.’
3 I dreamed a dreary dream this night, That fills my heart wi sorrow; I dreamed my luve came headless hame, O frae the braes of Yarrow!
4 ‘O true-luve mine, stay still and dine, As ye ha done before, O;’ ‘O I’ll be hame by hours nine, And frae the braes of Yarrow.’
5 ‘O are ye going to hawke,’ she says, ‘As ye ha done before, O? Or are ye going to weild your brand, Upon the braes of Yarrow?’
6 ‘O I am not going to hawke,’ he says, ‘As I have done before, O, But for to meet your brother Jhon, Upon the braes of Yarrow.’
7 As he gade down yon dowy den, Sorrow went him before, O; Nine well-wight men lay waiting him, Upon the braes of Yarrow.
8 ‘I have your sister to my wife, ‘Ye’ think me an unmeet marrow; But yet one foot will I never flee Now frae the braes of Yarrow.’
9 ‘Than’ four he killd and five did wound, That was an unmeet marrow! ‘And he had weel nigh wan the day Upon the braes of Yarrow.’
10 ‘Bot’ a cowardly ‘loon’ came him behind, Our Lady lend him sorrow! And wi a rappier pierced his heart, And laid him low on Yarrow.
11 ‘Now Douglas’ to his sister’s gane, Wi meikle dule and sorrow: ‘Gae to your luve, sister,’ he says, ‘He’s sleeping sound on Yarrow.’
12 As she went down yon dowy den, Sorrow went her before, O; She saw her true-love lying slain Upon the braes of Yarrow.
13 ‘She swoond thrice upon his breist That was her dearest marrow; Said, Ever alace and wae the day Thou wentst frae me to Yarrow!’
14 She kist his mouth, she kaimed his hair, As she had done before, O; She ‘wiped’ the blood that trickled doun Upon the braes of Yarrow.
15 Her hair it was three quarters lang, It hang baith side and yellow; She tied it round ‘her’ white hause-bane, ‘And tint her life on Yarrow.’
* * * * *
B
Murison MS., p. 105; Old Deer, Aberdeenshire.
1 Three lords sat drinking at the wine I the bonny braes o Yarrow, An there cam a dispute them between, Who was the Flower o Yarrow.
2 ‘I’m wedded to your sister dear, Ye coont nae me your marrow; I stole her fae her father’s back, An made her the Flower o Yarrow.’
3 ‘Will ye try hearts, or will ye try hans, I the bonnie brace o Yarrow? Or will ye try the weel airmt sword, I the bonnie braes o Yarrow?’
4 ‘I winna try hearts, I winna try hans, I the bonnie braes o Yarrow, But I will try the weel airmt sword, I the bonnie braes o Yarrow.’
5 ‘Ye’ll stay at home, my own good lord, Ye’ll stay at home tomorrow; My brethren three they will slay thee, I the bonnie braes o Yarrow.’
6 ‘Bonnie, bonnie shines the sun, An early sings the sparrow; Before the clock it will strike nine An I’ll be home tomorrow.’
7 She’s kissed his mouth, an combed his hair, As she had done before, O; She’s dressed him in his noble bow, An he’s awa to Yarrow.
8 As he gaed up yon high, high hill, An doon the dens o Yarrow, An there he spied ten weel airmt men I the bonnie braes o Yarrow.
9 It’s five he wounded, an five he slew, I the bonnie braes o Yarrow; There cam a squire out o the bush, An pierced his body thorough.
10 ‘I dreamed a dream now sin the streen, God keep us a’ fae sorrow! That my good lord was sleepin soun I the bonnie braes o Yarrow.’
11 ‘O hold your tongue, my daughter dear, An tak it not in sorrow; I’ll wed you wi as good a lord As you’ve lost this day in Yarrow.’
12 ‘O haud your tongue, my father dear, An wed your sons wi sorrow; For a fairer flower neer sprang in May nor June Nor I’ve lost this day in Yarrow.’
13 Fast did she gang, fast did she rin, Until she cam to Yarrow, An there she fan her own good lord, He was sleepin soun in Yarrow.
14 She’s taen three lachters o her hair, That hung doon her side sae bonny, An she’s tied them roon his middle tight, An she’s carried him hame frae Yarrow.
15 This lady being big wi child, She was fu o grief an sorrow; Her heart did break, and then she died, She did not live till morrow.
* * * * *
C
Motherwell’s MS., pp. 334, 331, from the recitation of Agnes Lile, Kilbarchan, July 19, 1825; learned from her father, who died fourteen years earlier, at the age of eighty.
1 There were three lords birling at the wine On the dowie downs o Yarrow; They made a compact them between They would go fight tomorrow.
2 ‘Thou took our sister to be thy bride, And thou neer thocht her thy marrow; Thou stealed her frae her daddie’s back, When she was the rose o Yarrow.’
3 ‘Yes, I took your sister to be my bride, And I made her my marrow; I stealed her frae her daddie’s back, And she’s still the rose o Yarrow.’
4 He is hame to his lady gane, As he had dune before! O; Says, Madam, I must go and fight On the dowie downs o Yarrow.
5 ‘Stay at hame, my lord,’ she said, ‘For that will cause much sorrow; For my brethren three they will slay thee, On the dowie downs o Yarrow.’
6 ‘Hold your tongue, my lady fair, For what needs a’ this sorrow? For I’ll be hame gin the clock strikes nine, From the dowie downs o Yarrow.’
7 She wush his face, she kamed his hair, As she had dune before, O; She dressed him up in his armour clear, Sent him furth to fight on Yarrow.
8 ‘Come you here to hawk or hound, Or drink the wine that’s so clear, O? Or come you here to eat in your words, That you’re not the rose o Yarrow?’
9 ‘I came not here to hawk or hound, Nor to drink the wine that’s so clear, O; Nor I came not here to eat in my words, For I’m still the rose o Yarrow.’
10 Then they a’ begoud to fight, I wad they focht richt sore, O, Till a cowardly man came behind his back, And pierced his body thorough.
11 ‘Gae hame, gae hame, it’s my man John, As ye have done before, O, And tell it to my gay lady That I soundly sleep on Yarrow.’
12 His man John he has gane hame, As he had dune before, O, And told it to his gay lady, That he soundly slept on Yarrow.
13 ‘I dreamd a dream now since the streen, God keep us a’ frae sorrow! That my lord and I was pu’ing the heather green From the dowie downs o Yarrow.’
14 Sometimes she rade, sometimes she gaed, As she had dune before, O, And aye between she fell in a soune, Lang or she cam to Yarrow.
15 Her hair it was five quarters lang, ’Twas like the gold for yellow; She twisted it round his milk-white hand, And she’s drawn him hame from Yarrow.
16 Out and spak her father dear, Says, What needs a’ this sorrow? For I’ll get you a far better lord Than ever died on Yarrow.
17 ‘O hold your tongue, father,’ she said, ‘For ye’ve bred a’ my sorrow; For that rose’ll neer spring sae sweet in May As that rose I lost on Yarrow.’
* * * * *
D
Communicated to Percy by Robert Lambe, Norham, April 16, 1768.
1 There were three lords drinking of wine On the bonny braes of Yarrow; There fell a combat them between, Wha was the rose of Yarrow.
2 Up then spak a noble lord, And I wot it was bot sorrow: ‘I have as fair a flower,’ he said, ‘As ever sprang on Yarrow.’
3 Then he went hame to his ain house, For to sleep or the morrow, But the first sound the trumpet gae Was, Mount and haste to Yarrow.
4 ‘Oh stay at hame,’ his lady said, ‘Oh stay untill the morrow, And I will mount upon a steed, And ride with you to Yarrow.’
5 ‘Oh hawd your tongue, my dear,’ said he, ‘And talk not of the morrow; This day I have to fight again, In the dowy deans of Yarrow.’
6 As he went up yon high, high hill, Down the dowy deans of Yarrow, There he spy’d ten weel armd men, There was nane o them his marrow.
7 Five he wounded and five he slew, In the dowy deans of Yarrow, But an English-man out of a bush Shot at him a lang sharp arrow.
8 ‘Ye may gang hame, my brethren three, Ye may gang hame with sorrow, And say this to my fair lady, I am sleeping sound on Yarrow.’
9 ‘Sister, sister, I dreamt a dream— You read a dream to gude, O! That I was puing the heather green On the bonny braes of Yarrow.’
10 ‘Sister, sister, I’ll read your dream, But alas! it’s unto sorrow; Your good lord is sleeping sound, He is lying dead on Yarrow.’
11 She as pu’d the ribbons of her head, And I wot it was wi sorrow, And she’s gane up yon high, high hill, Down the dowy deans of Yarrow.
12 Her hair it was five quarters lang, The colour of it was yellow; She as ty’d it round his middle jimp, And she as carried him frae Yarrow.
13 ‘O hawd your tongue!’ her father says, ‘What needs a’ this grief and sorrow? I’ll wed you on as fair a flower As ever sprang on Yarrow.’
14 ‘No, hawd your tongue, my father dear, I’m fow of grief and sorrow; For a fairer flower ne[v]er sprang Than I’ve lost this day on Yarrow.’
15 This lady being big wi bairn, And fow of grief and sorrow, She as died within her father’s arms, And she died lang or the morrow.
* * * * *
E
#a.# In the handwriting of James Hogg, the Ettrick Shepherd, about 1801; now in a volume with the title “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 136, Abbotsford. #b.# Scott’s Minstrelsy, III, 72, 1803, III, 143, 1833.
1 Late at een, drinkin the wine, Or early in a mornin, The set a combat them between, To fight it in the dawnin.
2 ‘O stay at hame, my noble lord! O stay at hame, my marrow! My cruel brother will you betray, On the dowy houms o Yarrow.’
3 ‘O fare ye weel, my lady gaye! O fare ye weel, my Sarah! For I maun gae, tho I neer return Frae the dowy banks o Yarrow.’
4 She kissd his cheek, she kaimd his hair, As she had done before, O; She belted on his noble brand, An he’s awa to Yarrow.
5 O he’s gane up yon high, high hill— I wat he gaed wi sorrow— An in a den spied nine armd men, I the dowy houms o Yarrow.
6 ‘O ir ye come to drink the wine, As ye hae doon before, O? Or ir ye come to wield the brand, On the bonny banks o Yarrow?’
7 ‘I im no come to drink the wine, As I hae don before, O, But I im come to wield the brand, On the dowy houms o Yarrow.’
8 Four he hurt, an five he slew, On the dowy houms o Yarrow, Till that stubborn knight came him behind, An ran his body thorrow.
9 ‘Gae hame. gae hame, good-brother John, An tell your sister Sarah To come an lift her noble lord, Who’s sleepin sound on Yarrow.’
10 ‘Yestreen I dreamd a dolefu dream; I kend there wad be sorrow; I dreamd I pu’d the heather green, On the dowy banks o Yarrow.’
11 She gaed up yon high, high hill— I wat she gaed wi sorrow— An in a den spy’d nine dead men, On the dowy houms o Yarrow.
12 She kissd his cheek, she kaimd his hair, As oft she did before, O; She drank the red blood frae him ran, On the dowy houms o Yarrow.
13 ‘O haud your tongue, my douchter dear, For what needs a’ this sorrow? I’ll wed you on a better lord Than him you lost on Yarrow.’
14 ‘O haud your tongue, my father dear, An dinna grieve your Sarah; A better lord was never born Than him I lost on Yarrow.
15 ‘Tak hame your ousen, tak hame your kye, For they hae bred our sorrow; I wiss that they had a’ gane mad Whan they cam first to Yarrow.’
* * * * *
F
“From Nelly Laidlaw.” In the handwriting of William Laidlaw, “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 20 a, Abbotsford.
1 Late in the eenin, drinkin the wine, Or early in the mornin, The set a combat them between, To fight it out i the dawnin.
2 She’s kissd his lips, an she’s caimd his hair, As she did ay afore, O, She’s belted him in his noble brown, Afore he gaed to Yarrow.
3 Then he’s away oer yon high hill— A wait he’s gane wi sorrow— An in a den he spied nine armd men, On the dowie banks o Yarrow.
4 ‘If I see ye a’, ye ‘r nine for ane, But ane’s [un]equal marrow; Yet as lang’s I’m able wield my brand, I’ll fight an bear ye marrow.
5 ‘There are twa swords into my sheath, The’re ane and equal marrow; Now wale the best, I’ll take the warst, An, man for man, I’ll try ye.’
6 He has slain a’ the nine men, A ane an equal marrow, But up there startit a stuborn lord, That gard him sleep on Yarrow.
* * * * * *
7 ‘Gae hame, gae hame, my sister Anne, An tell yer sister Sarah That she may gang an seek her lord, He’s lyin sleepin on Yarrow.’
8 ‘I dreamd a dream now sin yestreen, I thought it wad be sorrow; I thought I was pouin the hether green On the dowie banks o Yarrow.’
9 Then she’s away oer yon high hill— I wat she’s gane wi sorrow— And in a den she’s spy’d ten slain men, On the dowie banks o Yarrow.
10 ‘My love was a’ clad oer last night Wi the finest o the tartan, But now he’s a’ clad oer wi red, An he’s red bluid to the garten.’
11 She’s kissd his lips, she’s caimd his hair, As she had done before, O; She drank the red bluid that frae him ran, On the dowie banks o Yarrow.
12 ‘Tak hame your ousen, father, and yer kye, For they’ve bred muckle sorrow; I wiss that they had a’ gaen mad Afore they came to Yarrow.’
13 ‘O haud yer tongue, my daughter dear, For this breeds ay but sorrow; I’ll wed you to a better lord Than him you lost on Yarrow.’
14 ‘O haud yer tongue, my father dear, For ye but breed mair sorrow; A better rose will never spring Than him I’ve lost on Yarrow.’
15 This lady being big wi child, An fu o lamentation, She died within her father’s arms, Amang this stuborn nation.
* * * * *
G
“Carterhaugh, June 15, 1802.” “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 135, Abbotsford.
* * * * * *
1 She kissd his mouth and she combd his hair, As she had done before, O, She belted him in his noble broun, Before he went to Yarrow.
2 O he’s gone up yon high, [high] hill— I wat it was with sorrow— In a den he spied nine weal armd men, On the bonny banks of Yarrow.
3 ‘I see that you are nine for one, Which are of an unequal marrow; As lang’s I’m able to wield my bran, I’ll fight and be your marrow.’
4 O he has killed them a’ but one, Which bred to him great sorrow; For up and rose that stubborn lord, Made him sleep sound in Yarrow.
5 ‘Rise up, rise up, my daughter Ann, Go tell your sister Sarah She may rise up go lift her lord; He’s sleeping sound in Yarrow.’
6 She’s gone up yon high, high hill— I wat it was with sorrow— And in a den she spied nine slain men, On the dowie banks o Yarrow.
7 O she kissed his mouth, and she combd his hair, As she had done before, O; She drank the bleed that from him ran, On the dowie banks o Yarrow.
8 ‘Take hame your oxen, tak hame your kye, They’ve bred to me great sorrow; I wish they had all now gone mad First when they came to Yarrow.’
9 ‘O hold your tongue now, daughter dear, These words to me’s great sorrow; I’ll wed you on a better lord Than you have lost on Yarrow.’
10 ‘O hold your tongue now, father dear, These words to me’s great sorrow; A brighter O shall there never spread Than I have lost in Yarrow.’
11 This lady being big with child, And full of lamentation, She died unto her father’s arms, Among the stubborn nation.
* * * * *
H
Campbell MSS, II, 55.
1 ’Twas late at evening drinking wine, And early in the morning, He set a combat them among, And he fought it in the morning.
* * * * * *
2 ‘I have two swords by my side, They cost me both gold and money; Take ye the best, I’ll take the worst, Come man for man, I’ll try ye.’
3 He has foughten them all round, His equal man and marrow, While up bespake the stubborn lord, ‘He’s made them sleep in Yarrow.’
4 He says, Go home, my daughter Ann, And tell your sister Sarah To come and lift her stubborn lord; The lad’s made him sleep in Yarrow.
5 As she gaed up yon high, high hill, I wot she gaed right sorrow, And in a den spied nine well armd men, In the dowie dens of Yarrow.
6 ‘My love was dressd in the finest robes, And of the finest tartan, And now he’s a’ clad oer wi red, He’s bloody to the gartan!’
7 ‘O hold yer tongue, daughter!’ he says, ‘That would breed but sorrow; Ye shall be wed to a finer lord Than the one you’ve lost in Yarrow.’
8 ‘Hold your tongue, father!’ she says, ‘For that will breed but sorrow; A finer lord can neer be born Than the one I’ve lost in Yarrow.
9 ‘Take hame yer ox, and take hame yer kye, You’ve bred me muckle sorrow; I wish they’d a’ gane mad that day, That day they came to Yarrow.’
10 This woman being big wi child, And full of lamentation, She died into her father’s arms, Among that stubborn nation.
* * * * *
I
Buchan’s MSS, II, 161.
1 Ten lords sat drinking at the wine Intill a morning early; There fell a combat them among, It must be fought, nae parley.
2 ‘O stay at hame, my ain gude lord! O stay, my ain dear marrow!’ ‘Sweetest min, I will be thine, An dine wi you tomorrow.’
3 She kissd his lips, an combed his hair, As she had done before O, Gied him a brand down by his side, An he is on to Yarrow.
4 As he gaed oer yon dowey knowe, As he had dane before O, Nine armed men lay in a den, Upo the braes o Yarrow.
5 ‘O came ye here to hunt or hawk, As ye hae dane before O? Or came ye here to wiel your brand, Upo the braes o Yarrow?’
6 ‘I came nae here to hunt nor hawk, As I hae done before O; But I came here to wiel my brand, Upo the braes o Yarrow.’
7 Four he hurt, an five he slew, Till down it fell himsell O; There stood a fause lord him behin, Who thrust his body thorrow.
8 ‘Gae hame, gae hame, my brother John, An tell your sister sorrow; Your mither woud come take up her son, Aff o the braes o Yarrow.’
9 As he gaed oer yon high, high hill, As he had dane before O, There he met his sister dear, Came rinnin fast to Yarrow.
10 ‘I dreamd a dream last night,’ she says, ‘I wish it binna sorrow; I dreamd I was puing the heather green Upo the braes o Yarrow.’
11 ‘I’ll read your dream, sister,’ he says, ‘I’ll read it into sorrow; Ye’re bidden gae take up your luve, He’s sleeping sound on Yarrow.’
12 She’s torn the ribbons frae her head— They were baith thick an narrow— She’s kilted up her green claithing, An she’s awa to Yarrow.
13 She’s taen him in her arms twa, An gaen him kisses thorough, An wi her tears she bath’d his wounds, Upo the braes o Yarrow.
14 Her father, looking oer the castle-wa, Beheld his daughter’s sorrow; ‘O had your tongue, daughter,’ he says, ‘An lat be a’ your sorrow! I’ll wed you wi a better lord Than he that died on Yarrow.’
15 ‘O had your tongue, father,’ she says, ‘An lat be till tomorrow! A better lord there coudna be Than he that died on Yarrow.’
16 She kissd his lips, an combd his hair, As she had done before O, An wi a crack her head did brack, Upo the braes o Yarrow.
* * * * *
J
Taken down from the singing of Marion Miller, in Threepwood, in the parish of Melrose. In Thomas Wilkie’s handwriting, “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 107, Abbotsford. Another copy in Thomas Wilkie’s MS., 1813–15, p. 57, No 67 of “Scotch Ballads,” etc.
1 In Thoro town there lives a maid, I am sure she has no marrow; For she has forsaken both lords and knights, And loved a servant-lad in Galla.
2 Evening and morning her page he ran, Her page he ran wi sorrow, With letters bound, just frae the town, To the servant-lad in Galla.
3 Her father he got word of that, And he’s bred all her sorrow; He sent him forth to fight wi nine, In the dowie glens of Yarrow.
4 She washd his face, she combd his hair, She thought he had no marrow; Wi a thrusty rapier by his side, She sent him forth to Yarrow.
5 She’s taen fareweel of him that day, As she had done before, O, And she’s comd back to her bonny bower, But her love’s away to Yarrow.
6 He wanderd up, he wandred down, His heart was full of sorrow; There he spied nine gentlemen, Watering their steeds in Yarrow.
7 ‘O come away, young man,’ they said, ‘I’m sure ye’r no our marrow; Ye’r welcome here, young man,’ they said, ‘For the bonny lass o Thorro.’
8 ‘Nine against one, weel do ye ken, That’s no an equal marrow; Yet for my love’s sake I’ll venture my life, In the dowie glens of Yarrow.’
9 Five was wounded, and four was slain, Amongst them a’ he had no marrow; He’s mounted on his horse again, Cries, I have won the bonny lass of Thorro!
10 Up then spake her father dear— And he’s bred all her sororw— And wi a broad sword ran him through, In the dowie glens of Yarrow.
11 ‘I have dreamd a dream, father, I doubt I have dreamd for sorrow; I dreamd I was pouing the heather green Wi my true love in Yarrow.’
12 ‘O I will read your dream, daughter, Although it be for your sorrow; Go, and ye’ll find your love lying sound, In a heather-bush in Yarrow.’
13 She’s calld on her maidens then— Her heart was full of sorrow— And she’s away wi her maidens twa, To the dowie glens o Yarrow.
14 She wandered up, she wandred down, In the dowie glens of Yarrow, And there she spied her love lying sound, In a heather-bush in Yarrow.
15 She’s washd him in the clear well-strand, She’s dry’d him wi the holland, And aye she sighd, and said, Alass! For my love I had him chosen.
16 His hair it was three quarters long, Three quarters long and yellow; And she’s rapt it round her middle small, And brought it home to Thorro.
17 ‘O hold your tongue, my daughter dear, And talk no more of sorrow; I’ll soon wed you on a better match Than your servant-lad in Galla.’
18 ‘O you may wed a’ your seven sons, I wish you may wed them in sorrow: O you may wed a’ your seven sons, For you’ll neer wed the bonny lass of Thoro.’
19 This lady being big wi child, And her heart was full wi sorrow, She died between her father’s arms, In the bonny house of Thorro.
* * * * *
K
Campbell MS., I, 8; “communicated by Janet Ormstone, Innerleithen, who sung it to a beautiful old air.”
1 There lived a lady in the south, She thought she had not her marrow; And she was courted by nine gentlemen, In the dowie dens in Yarrow.
2 All their offers they proved in vain, She thought that they were not her marrow; She has forsaken a’ the nine, Loved a servant-lad on Galla.
3 Up bespoke her father dear, Who bred them a’ this sorrow; You must go far, far to fight the nine, In the dowie den in Yarrow.’
4 She washd his face, she combd his hair, Her heart being full of sorrow, With a rusted rapier down by his side, To fight his foes in Yarrow.
5 He’s ridden east, he’s ridden west, He’s ridden into Yarrow, And there he espied all the nine, Watering their steeds in Yarrow.
6 ‘Ye’r welcome, welcome, young man,’ they said, ‘But I think ye are not our marrow;’ ‘But I’ll fight ye all out, one by one, In the dowie dens o Yarrow.’
7 Four he has wounded, five he has slain, He left them a’ sound in Yarrow; He turned him round with rejoyfull looks, Says, I wone the lady of Thoro.
8 Up then spoke her father dear, Who bred them a’ this sorrow; He’s taen out a broadsword and run him through, In the dowie dens o Yarrow.
9 ‘I dreamed a dream last night,’ she says, ‘I fear it is for sorrow; I dreamd I was pulling the heather green With my true love in Yarrow.’
10 ‘I’ll read your dream now, daughter dear, I fear it is for sorrow; You will find your true-love lying sound, In a heather bush in Yarrow.’
11 She’s ridden east, she’s ridden west, She’s ridden into Yarrow; There she found her true lover sound, In a heather bush in Yarrow.
12 His hair it was five quarters lang, It was baith lang and yellow; She’s tied it to her horse’s mane, She’s trailed him home from Yarrow.
13 ‘O woe be to you, father dear! You’ve bred me all this sorrow;’ So she died between her father’s arms, In the dowie dens o Yarrow.
* * * * *
L
Blackwood’s Magazine, CXLVII, 741, June, 1890; communicated by Professor John Veitch, as received from William Welsh, a Peeblesshire cottar and poet, born 1799, whose mother used to recite the ballad, and whose grandmother had a copy in her father’s handwriting.
1 At Dryhope lived a lady fair, The fairest flower in Yarrow, And she refused nine noble men For a servan lad in Gala.
2 Her father said that he should fight The nine lords all to-morrow, And he that should the victor be Would get the Rose of Yarrow.
3 Quoth he, You’re nine, an I’m but ane, And in that there’s no much marrow; Yet I shall fecht ye, man for man, In the dowie dens o Yarrow.
4 She kissed his lips, and combed his hair, As oft she’d done before, O, An set him on her milk-white steed, Which bore him on to Yarrow.
5 When he got oer yon high, high hill, An down the dens o Yarrow, There did he see the nine lords all, But there was not one his marrow.
6 ‘Now here ye’re nine, an I’m but ane, But yet I am not sorrow; For here I’ll fecht ye, man for man, For my true love in Yarrow.’
7 Then he wheeld round, and fought so fierce Till the seventh fell in Yarrow, When her brother sprang from a bush behind, And ran his body thorough.
8 He never spoke more words than these, An they were words o sorrow; ‘Ye may tell my true love, if ye please, That I’m sleepin sound in Yarrow.’
9 They’ve taen the young man by the heels And trailed him like a harrow, And then they flung the comely youth In a whirlpool o Yarrow.
10 The lady said, I dreamed yestreen— I fear it bodes some sorrow— That I was pu’in the heather green On the scroggy braes o Yarrow.’
11 Her brother said, I’ll read your dream, But it should cause nae sorrow; Ye may go seek your lover hame, For he’s sleepin sound in Yarrow.
12 Then she rode oer yon gloomy height, An her heart was fu o sorrow, But only saw the clud o night, Or heard the roar o Yarrow.
13 But she wandered east, so did she wast, And searched the forest thorough, Until she spied her ain true love, Lyin deeply drowned in Yarrow.
14 His hair it was five quarters lang, Its colour was the yellow; She twined it round her lily hand, And drew him out o Yarrow.
15 She kissed his lips, and combed his head, As oft she’d done before, O; She laid him oer her milk-white steed, An bore him home from Yarrow.
16 She washed his wounds in yon well-strand, And dried him wi the hollan, And aye she sighed, and said, Alas! For my love I had him chosen.
17 ‘Go hold your tongue,’ her father said, ‘There’s little cause for sorrow; I’ll wed ye on a better lad Than ye hae lost in Yarrow.’
18 ‘Haud your ain tongue, my faither dear, I canna help my sorrow; A fairer flower neer sprang in May Than I hae lost in Yarrow.
19 ‘I meant to make my bed fu wide, But you may make it narrow; For now I’ve nane to be my guide But a deid man drowned in Yarrow.’
20 An aye she screighed, and cried Alas! Till her heart did break wi sorrow, An sank into her faither’s arms, Mang the dowie dens o Yarrow.
* * * * *
M
In the handwriting of James Hogg, the Ettrick Shepherd (later than #E a#). “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 11 a, Abbotsford.
1 O ay he sat, and ay he drank, An ay he counted the laying, An ay he drank to the lass’es health Was to meet him in the dawning.
2 Up he gaes on yon high, high hill, An a wat he gaes wi sorrow, An in a den he spy’d nine well armd men, On the dowie banks of Yarrow.
3 ‘Oh woe be to young women’s wit! For the’ve bred to me meikle sorrow; She promisd for to meet me here, An she’s sent nine men to slay me.
4 ‘But there is two swords in my scabba[rd], They cost me gold and money; Tak ye the best, and I’ll tak the wa[rst], An come man for man, I’ll not fly yo[u].’
5 Ay he stood, an ay he fought, Till it was near the dawning, Then up an rose her brother James, An has slain him in the dawning.
6 ‘O the last night I dreamd a dream, God keep us a’ frae sorrow! I dreamd I was powing the heather green In the dowie banks of Yarrow.’
7 Up she gaes on yon high, high hill, An a wat she gaes with sorrow, An in a den she spy’d nine slain men, In the dowie banks of Yarrow.
8 ‘O the last time I saw my love He was a’ clad oer in tartan; But now he’s a’ clad oer in red, An he’s a’ blood to the gartin.’
9 She kist his mouth, an she’s combd his hair, As she had done before, O, She drank the blood that from him ran, In the dowie banks of Yarrow.
10 ‘O hold your tongue now, daughter,’ he says, ‘An breed to me no more sorrow; For I’ll wed you on a better match Than you have lost on Yarrow.’
11 ‘Hold your tongue now, father,’ she says, ‘An breed to me no more sorrow; For a better rose will never spring Than I have lost on Yarrow.’
* * * * *
N
Communicated to Scott by Mrs Christiana Greenwood, London, May 27, 1806 (Letters, I, No 189); presumably learned by her at Longnewton, near Jedburgh. “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 84, Abbotsford.
1 The cock did craw, and the day did daw, And the moon shone fair and clearly; Sir James gade out o his castle-yett, To meet fair Anne, his dearie.
2 ‘O come down, come down, my true-love Anne; And speak but ae word to me! But ae kiss o your bonny mouth Wad yield much comfort to me.’
3 ‘O how can I come down?’ she says, ‘Or how can I win to thee? When there is nane that I can trust Wad safe convey me to thee.
4 ‘But gang doun, gang doun, to yon hostess’ house, And there take on yere lawing, And, as I’m a woman kind and true, I’ll meet you at the dawing.’
5 Then he gade thro the good green-wood, And oer the moor sae eerie, And lang he stayd, and sair he sighd, But he never mair saw his dearie.
6 And ay he sat, and lang he drank, And ay he counted his lawing, Till fifteen men did him surround, To slay him or the dawing.
7 ‘O she promisd ance to meet me this night, But I find she has deceived me; She promisd ance to meet me this night, And she’s sent fifteen to slay me!
8 ‘There are twa swords in my scabard, They cost me gowd and money; Take ye the best, and gie me the warst, And man for man I’ll try ye.’
9 Then they fought on, and on they fought, Till maist o them were fallen, When her brother John cam him behind, And slew him at the dawing.
10 Then he’s away to his sister Anne, To the chamber where’s she’s lying: ‘Come doun, come doun, my sister Anne, And take up your true-love Jamie!
11 ‘Come doun, come doun now, sister Anne! For he’s sleeping in yon logie; Sound, sound he sleeps, nae mair to wake, And nae mair need ye be vogie.’
12 ‘I dreamd a drearie dream yestreen, Gin it be true, it will prove my sorrow; I dreamd my luive had lost his life, Within the yetts o Gowrie.
13 ‘O wae betide ye, lassies o Gowrie For ye hae sleepit soundly; Gin ye had keepit your yetts shut, Ye might hae sav’d the life o my Jamie.
14 ‘Yestreen my luive had a suit o claise Were o the finest tartan; But lang or ere the day did daw They war a’ red bluid to the garten.
15 ‘Yestreen my luive had a suit o claise Were o the apple reamin; But lang or ere the day did daw The red bluid had them streamin.’
16 In yon fair ha, where the winds did blaw, When the moon shone fair and clearly, She’s thrawn her green skirt oer her head, And ay she cried out mercy.
* * * * *
O
Herd’s MSS, I, 35, II, 181.
1 ‘I dreamd a dreary dream last night, God keep us a’ frae sorrow! I dreamd I pu’d the birk sae green Wi my true luve on Yarrow.’
2 ‘I’ll read your dream, my sister dear, I’ll tell you a’ your sorrow; You pu’d the birk wi your true luve, He’s killd, he’s killd on Yarrow!’
3 ‘O gentle wind, that blaweth south To where my love repaireth, Convey a kiss from his dear mouth, And tell me how he fareth!
4 ‘But oer yon glen run armed men, Have wrought me dule and sorrow; They’ve slain, they’ve slain the comliest swain, He bleeding lies on Yarrow.’
* * * * *
P
Cromek’s Select Scotish Songs, 1810, II, 196, the seventh and tenth stanzas; sent by Burns to William Tytler in 1790.
1 ‘Get up, get up now, sister Ann, I fear we’ve wrought you sorrow; Get up, ye’ll find your true love slain, Among the banks of Yarrow.’
2 ‘I made my love a suit of clothes, I clad him all in tartan, But ere the morning sun arose, He was a’ bluid to the gartan.’
* * * * *
#A.#
The words in ’ ’ are so distinguished in the MS., and are of course emendations. ‘Than,’ 9^1, is obviously an insertion; ‘Now Douglas,’ 11^1, is entirely unauthorized, and, as before said, is taken from Hamilton’s ballad; ‘wiped,’ 14^3, is probably substituted for drank, cf. 12^3, etc.; and ‘her,’ 15^3, is very likely to have been his.
#B.#
12^1. Var. O father dear, I pray forbear.
#C.#
7^1. He.
7^3. SHe, originally He.
9^{1,3}. a in came is not closed; possibly cume. A few changes were, as usual, made by Motherwell in printing.
#D.#
1^4. Wha is blotted.
#E. b.#
A minute collation of a copy constructed by Scott would be useless and deceptive, and therefore only the larger variations will be noted.
1^2. And ere they paid the lawing.
5^1. As he gaed up the Tennies bank.
6^{1,2}. O come ye here to part your land, The bonnie forest thorough.
7^{1,2}. I come not here to part my land, And neither to beg nor borrow.
After 7:
If I see all, ye’re nine to ane, (Cf. #F# 4^1.) And that’s an unequal marrow; (Cf. #G# 3^2.) Yet will I fight while lasts my brand, (Cf. #F# 4^3, #G# 3^3.) On the bonny banks of Yarrow. (Cf. #E a# 6^4.)
10^4. Wi my true love, on Yarrow. (Cf. #O# 1^4.)
After 10, two stanzas which are nearly #O# 3, 4.
11^3. ten slain men. (Cf. #F# 9^3.)
12^{2,3}. She searchd his wounds all thorough; She kissd them till her lips grew red.
13^2. For a’ this breeds but sorrow. (Cf. #F# 13^2.)
14^2. Ye mind me but of sorrow.
14^{3,4}. A fairer rose did never bloom Than now lies croppd on Yarrow.
(Cf. #M# 11^{3,4}.)
Scott gives in a note, III, 79, 1803, “the last stanza, as (since?) it occurs in most copies.” (Cf. #F#, #G#, #H#.)
That lady, being big with child, And full of consternation, She swooned in her father’s arms, Amidst that stubborn nation.
#F.#
2^3. browns, and so again #G# 1^3. A derivation from bruny, mail-coat, is scarcely to be thought of. Apparently a corruption of brand, (cf. #E# 4^3); but brand occurs in #F# 4^3, #G# 3^3.
#G.#
1^2. before him. 1^3. and his noble brouns.
10^3. shalt.
#H.#
3, 4. The stubborn lord in 3^3 is the wife’s father, and the race, or family, is stubborn according to 10. Stubborn folk think opposers stubborn, no doubt; still the epithet is unlikely in 4^3. Lad I suppose to refer to the man who in the other versions stabs from behind.
5^3. dern for den. The nine men must be dead, as in #E# 11, #F# 9, #G# 6. The well armd belongs to an earlier (lost) stanza, corresponding to #E# 5, #F# 3, #G# 2.
#I.# Variations in Buchan’s printed copy:
1^1. Ten lords. The lords in my copy of the MS., but, as Dixon has also Ten, I presume The to be an error. Otherwise I should have read Th[re]e, as in #B#, #C#, #D#.
4^2. As aft he’d.
7^4. thrust him thro body and mell, O.
8^3. mother to. 14^4. ower his.
#J.#
The first copy seems to be the earlier, and that which was transcribed into the MS. to have been slightly edited, but the variations are few, mostly spellings. The first copy has no title. The title of the second is altered from The Braes of Yarrow to The Dowie Glens of Yarrow. At the end of the second is this note: This song I took down from Marion Miller in Threepwood, in the Parish of Melrose. The air was plaintive and extremely wild. I consider this song more valuable on account that Mern had never sung it to any but myself for fifteen years, and she had almost said, or rather promised, that she would never sing it to another.
Thoro, 1^1, etc., is spelt Thorough, Thorrough, in the first copy, Thorough, Thorrough, Thorro, Thoro, in the second; but in the latter ugh is struck out wherever it occurs.
4^3. thrusty, in both; i.e., trusty.
11^3. the (birks) heather green, in both.
First. 5^2, 17^1, 18^1. oh, Oh.
Second. 5^2. What she had neer done before, O.
6^2, 19^2. was filled wi.
9^1. Five he. 9^2. nae. 9^3. steed.
12^2. to your.
18^2. wi for in.
#K.#
3^3. far far should probably be forth, as in #J#; possibly forth for.
#L.#
12^{3,4}, 13^{1,2}. Compare Logan’s Braes of Yarrow.
They sought him east, they sought him west, They sought him all the forest thorough; They only saw the cloud of night They only heard the roar of Yarrow.
#O.#
“A fragment, to the tune of Leaderhaughs and Yarrow.”
215
RARE WILLIE DROWNED IN YARROW, OR, THE WATER O GAMRIE
#A.# ‘Willy’s rare and Willy’s fair,’ Thomson’s Orpheus Caledonius, II, 110, 1733.
#B. a.# Cromek’s Select Scotish Songs, 1810, II, 196. #b.# Stenhouse, Musical Museum, 1853, IV, 464.
#C.# ‘The Dowie Dens o Yarrow,’ Gibb MS., p. 37.
#D.# Skene MS., p. 47.
#E.# ‘Willie’s drowned in Gamery,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 245.
#F.# ‘The Water o Gamery,’ Buchan’s MSS, II, 159. Dixon, Scottish Traditional Versions of Ancient Ballads, p. 66, Percy Society, vol. xvii.
#G.# ‘The Water o Ganrie,’ Motherwell’s MS., p. 637.
#H.# ‘The Water o Gemrie,’ Campbell MSS, II, 78.
#A# was inserted in the fourth volume of The Tea-Table Miscellany, and stands in the edition of 1763 at p. 321, ‘Rare Willie drowned in Yarrow,’ It is given in Herd’s Ancient and Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p. 197 (with two or three trifling changes); in Johnson’s Museum, p. 542, No 525. #F# is epitomized in Christie’s Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 66, “with some changes from the way the editor has heard it sung.”
The fragment in Cromek’s Select Scotish Songs, 1810, II, 196, sent by Burns in a letter to William Tytler, 1790, belongs, as already said, mostly with ‘The Duke of Athole’s Nurse,’ but has two stanzas of ‘Willie drowned in Yarrow’ (#B#).
‘The Braes of Yarrow,’ Ritson’s Scotish Song, I, 154, composed upon the story of this ballad by the Rev. John Logan (1748–88), has two of the original lines (nearly):
They sought him east, they sought him west, They sought him all the forest thorough.
Willie is drowned in Yarrow according to the older (southern) tradition, #A#; also #B#, #C#. In the northern copies, #D#, #E#, #F#, with which #G#, #H#, agree, the scene is transferred to Gamrie, on the coast of the Moray Frith, where, as Christie remarks, “there is no water that Willie could have been drowned in but the sea, on his way along the sands to the old kirk.”[109] In the ballad which follows this, a western variety of the same story, Willie is drowned in the Clyde.
#C# 2, 3, 5, 6, belong to the preceding ballad, and 4 is common to that and this.
#A# 2 would come in better at the end of the story (as it does in #C#, a copy of slight authority), if it might properly find a place anywhere in the ballad. But this stanza suits only a woman who has been for some time living with her husband. A woman on her wedding-day could have no call to make her bed broad in her mother’s house, whether yestreen or the morrow. I therefore conclude that #A# 2 does not belong to this ballad.[110]
#D-H.# Rare Willie has promised to marry Meggie, #E# (also #A#, #C#, #D#). His mother would give her the wale of all her other sons, but not Willie; she will have him only; #D#, #E# (cf. #G# 1). The bridegroom, with a large company, is mounted to ride for the bride; he tells his friends to go forward, he has forgotten to ask his mother’s blessing; #D#, #E#, #F#, #H#. He receives the blessing, #D#, #F#, #H#; her blessing goes not with him, #G#; he gets her heavy curse, #E#; even in #F# his mother, after giving her blessing, says that he will never see his wedding. (The mother’s curse is the characteristic feature of the next following ballad.) The bridal party come to the river, or burn, of Gamrie; all the others pass the stream safely, but Willie is washed from his saddle, #D-H#. The rest ride on to the kirk of Gamrie. The bride asks where is the man who was to marry her, and is told that Willie is drowned. She tears the ribbons from her hair and runs to the river, plunges in, and finds Willie in the deepest pot, the middle, the deepest weil. She will make her bed with him in Gamrie; both mothers shall be alike sorry; #D-G#.
In #H#, Willie’s horse comes home with an empty saddle. His mother is sure that her son is dead; her daughter tries in vain to persuade her that all is well; Meggie takes her lover’s body from the river and lays it on the grass; she will sleep with him in the same grave at Gamrie.
In #A#, #B#, the drowned body is found in the cleft of a rock, the clifting or clintin of a craig; in #C# 4 neath a buss of brume, that stanza belonging, as most of the copy does, to the preceding ballad; cf. #J# 14, #K# 11 of No 214. The bride ties three links of her hair, which is three quarters long, round Willie’s waist, and draws him out of the water, #B# 2, #C# 5; for the hair, cf. No 214, where also it is not advantageously used. The bride’s tearing the ribbons from her head, #D# 12, #E# 15, #F# 8, #G# 7, #H# 14, is found also in No 214, #D# 11, #I# 12, but is inappropriate there. A brother, brother John, whether the man’s or the woman’s, tells the bad news in No 214, #A# 11, #E# 9, #I# 8, #L# 11, #N# 9, 10, as here #D# 11, #E# 14, #F# 7, #G# 6, #H# 13.
‘Annan Water,’ a ballad in which a lover is drowned on his way to visit his mistress, is given in an appendix.
* * * * *
A
Thomson’s Orpheus Caledonius, II, 110, 1733.
1 ‘Willy’s rare, and Willy’s fair, And Willy’s wondrous bony, And Willy heght to marry me, Gin eer he marryd ony.
2 ‘Yestreen I made my bed fu brade, The night I’ll make it narrow, For a’ the live-long winter’s night I lie twin’d of my marrow.
3 ‘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?’
4 She sought him east, she sought him west, She sought him brade and narrow; Sine, in the clifting of a craig, She found him drownd in Yarrow.
* * * * *
B
#a.# Cromek’s Select Scotish Songs, 1810, II, 196; eighth and ninth stanzas of a fragment sent William Tytler by Burns in 1790. #b.# Stenhouse’s edition of the Musical Museum, 1853, IV, 464.
1 She sought him east, she sought him west, She sought him braid and narrow, Till in the clintin of a craig She found him drownd in Yarrow.
2 She’s taen three links of her yellow hair, That hung down lang and yellow, And she’s tied it about sweet Willie’s waist, An drawn him out o Yarrow.
* * * * *
C
Gibb MS., No 7, p. 37; from recitation. “Traced to Eppie Fraser, daughter of a tramp, and unable to read, circa 1840.”
1 ‘Willie’s fair, an Willie’s rare, An Willie’s wondrous bonny, An Willie’s promised to marry me, If eer he marry ony.’
2 ‘O sister dear, I’ve dreamed a dream, I’m afraid it’s unco sorrow; I dreamed I was pu’in the heather green, In the dowie dens o Yarrow.’
3 ‘O sister dear, I’ll read your dream, I’m afraid it will be sorrow; Ye’ll get a letter ere it’s een Your lover’s drowned in Yarrow.’
4 She socht him up, she socht him doun, In mickle dule an sorrow; She found him neath a buss o brume, In the dowie dens o Yarrow.
5 Her hair it was three quarters lang, Its colour it was yallow; She tied it to his middle sma, An pu’ed him oot o Yarrow.
6 ‘My bed it was made wide yestreen, The nicht it sall be narrow; There’s neer a man lie by my side Since Willie’s drowned in Yarrow.’
* * * * *
D
Skene MS., p. 47; taken down from recitation in the north of Scotland, 1802–3.
1 ‘Willie’s fair, and Willie’s rare, An he is wondrous bonnie, An Willie has promist to marry me, Gin ever he marry ony.’
2 ‘Ye’s get Jammie, or ye’s [get] Johnnie, Or ye’s get bonny Peter; Ye’s get the wale o a’ my sons, But leave me Willie the writer.’
3 ‘I winna hae Jamie, I winna hae Johnie, I winna hae bonny Peter; I winna hae ony o a’ your sons, An I get na Willie the writer.’
4 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . There was threescore and ten brisk young men Was boun to briddal-stool wi him:
5 ‘Ride on, ride on, my merry men a’, I forgot something behind me; I forgat my mither’s blessing, To hae to bride-stool wi me.’
6 ‘God’s blessin an mine gae wi ye, Willie, God’s blessing an mine gae wi ye; For ye’re nae ane hour but bare nineteen, Fan ye’re gauin to meet your Meggie.’
7 They rode on, and farther on, Till they came to the water of Gamrie, An they a’ wan safe through, Unless it was sweet Willie.
8 The first ae step that Willie’s horse steppit, He steppit to the bridle; The next ae step that Willie’s horse steppit, Toom grew Willie’s saddle.
9 They rod on, an farther on, Till they came to the kirk of Gamrie. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
10 Out spak the bonny bride, . . . . . . . ‘Whar is the man that’s to gie me his han This day at the kirk of Gamrie?’
11 Out spak his brother John, An O bat he was sorrie! ‘It fears me much, my bonny bride, He sleeps oure soun in Gamerie.’
12 The ribbons that were on her haír— An they were thick and monny— She rive them a’, let them down fa, An is on[to] the water o Gamerie.
13 She sought it up, she sought it down, She sought it braid and narrow; An in the deepest pot o Gamerie, There she got sweet Willie.
14 She has kissd his comely mouth, As she had done before [O]: ‘Baith our mithers sall be alike sorry, For we’s baith sleep in Gamery.’
* * * * *
E
Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, #I#, 245.
1 ‘O Willie is fair, and Willie is rare, And Willie is wondrous bonny, And Willie says he’ll marry me, Gin ever he marry ony.’
2 ‘O ye’se get James, or ye’se get George, Or ye’s get bonny Johnnie; Ye’se get the flower o a’ my sons, Gin ye’ll forsake my Willie.’
3 ‘O what care I for James or George, Or yet for bonny Peter? I dinna value their love a leek, An I getna Willie the writer.
4 ‘O Willie has a bonny hand, And dear but it is bonny!’ ‘He has nae mair for a’ his land; What woud ye do wi Willie?’
5 ‘O Willie has a bonny face, And dear but it is bonny!’ ‘But Willie has nae other grace; What woud ye do wi Willie?’
6 ‘Willie’s fair, and Willie’s rare, And Willie’s wondrous bonny; There’s nane wi him that can compare, I love him best of ony.’
7 On Wednesday, that fatal day, The people were convening; Besides all this, threescore and ten, To gang to the bride-steel wi him.
8 ‘Ride on, ride on, my merry men a’, I’ve forgot something behind me; I’ve forgot to get my mother’s blessing, To gae to the bride-steel wi me.’
9 ‘Your Peggy she’s but bare fifteen, And ye are scarcely twenty; The water o Gamery is wide and braid; My heavy curse gang wi thee!’
10 Then they rode on, and further on, Till they came on to Gamery; The wind was loud, the stream was proud, And wi the stream gaed Willie.
11 Then they rode on, and further on, Till they came to the kirk o Gamery; And every one on high horse sat, But Willie’s horse rade toomly.
12 When they were settled at that place, The people fell a mourning, And a council held amo them a’, But sair, sair wept Kinmundy.
13 Then out it speaks the bride hersell, Says, What means a’ this mourning? Where is the man amo them a’ That shoud gie me fair wedding?
14 Then out it speaks his brother John, Says, Meg, I’ll tell you plainly; The stream was strong, the clerk rade wrong, And Willie’s drownd in Gamery.
15 She put her hand up to her head, Where were the ribbons many; She rave them a’, let them down fa’, And straightway ran to Gamery.
16 She sought it up, she sought it down, Till she was wet and weary; And in the middle part o it, There she got her deary.
17 Then she stroakd back his yellow hair, And kissd his mou sae comely: ‘My mother’s heart’s be as wae as thine! We’se baith asleep in the water o Gamery.’
* * * * *
F
Buchan MSS, II, 159.
1 Whan Willie was in his saddle set, And all his merry men wi him, ‘Stay still, stay still, my merry men all, I’ve forgot something behind me.
2 ‘Gie me God’s blessing an yours, mither, To hae me on to Gamery; Gie me God’s blessing an yours, mither, To gae to the bride-stool wi me.’
3 ‘I’ll gie ye God’s blessing an mine, Willie, To hae you on to Gamery; Ye’s hae God’s blessing an mine, Willie, To gae to the bride-stool wi you.
4 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ‘But Gamery it is wide and deep, An ye’ll never see your wedding;’
5 Some rede back, an some rede fore, An some rede on to Gamery; The bonniest knight’s saddle among them all Stood teem in the Water o Gamery.
6 Out it spake the bride hersell, Says, What makes all this riding? Where is the knight amongst you all Aught me this day for wedding?
7 Out it spake the bridegroom’s brother, Says, Margaret, I’ll tell you plainly; The knight ye should hae been wedded on Is drownd in the Water o Gamery.
8 She’s torn the ribbons aff her head— They were baith thick an mony— She kilted up her green claithing, And she has passed the Gamery.
9 She’s plunged in, so did she down, That was baith black an jumly, And in the middle o that water She found her ain sweet Willie.
10 She’s taen him in her arms twa And gied him kisses many: ‘My mother’s be as wae as thine! We’ll baith lie in the Water o Gamery.’
* * * * *
G
Motherwell’s MS., p. 637; from the recitation of the wife of James Baird, forester at Dalrymple.
1 ‘O stay at hame, my ain son Willie, And let your bride tak Johnie! O stay at hame, my ain son Willie! For my blessing gaes not wi thee.’
2 ‘I canna stay, nor I winna stay, And let my bride tak Johnie; I canna stay, nor I winna stay, Though your blessing gaes na wi me.
3 ‘I have a steed in my stable That cost me monie a pennie, And on that steed I winna dread To ride the water o Genrie.’
4 The firsten step that Willie stept, He steppit to the bellie; The wind blew loud, the stream ran proud, And awa wi it gaed Willie.
5 And when the bride gaed to the kirk, Into the kirk o Ganrie, She cuist her ee among them a’, But she sawna her love Willie.
6 Out and spak her auld brither, Saying, Peggie, I will tell thee; The man ye should been married till Lyes in the water o Genrie.
7 She tore the ribbons aff her head, That were baith rich and manie, And she has kiltit up her coat, And ran to the water o Ganrie.
8 She’s sought him up, sae did she doun, Thro a’ the water o Ganrie; In the deepest weil in a’ the burn, Oh, there she fand her Willie!
9 She has taen him in her arms twa, Sae fondly as she kisst him! Said, ‘My mither sall be wae as thine,’ And she’s lain doun aside him.
* * * * *
H
Campbell MSS, II, 78.
1 They were saddled a’, they were briddled a’, Bridegroom and a’ was ready; ‘Stop,’ says he, ‘my nobles a’, For I’ve left something behind me.
2 ‘It is your blessing, mother dear, To bound [to] the bride-styl with me:’ ‘God’s blessing now, my son,’ says she, ‘And mine and a’ gang wi ye!
3 ‘For ye are scarce nineteen years of age When ye met in wi bonny Maggie, And I’m sure, my dear, she’ll welcome you This day in the kirk o Gemrie.’
4 It’s they have ridden up, it’s they have ridden down, And joy was in their gallant company; It’s they have ridden up, and they have ridden down, Till they came to the water o Gemrie.
5 When they came to the water, it was flooded; In the middle Sweet William he fell; The spray brook over his horse’s mane, And the wind sang his funeral knell.
6 ‘O much is the pity! O much is the pity!’ Cried that joyful company; ‘O much is the pity! O much is the pity!’ But alas! now are woeful and wae.
7 Hame and hame came his stead, And ran to its ain stable; They’ve gien it corn and hay to eat, As much as it was able.
8 His mother she was a waefu woman, As dung as woman could be; ‘My son,’ says she, ‘is either hurt or slain, Or drowned in the waters of Gemrie.’
9 It’s up and spak her daughter Ann: ‘What needs be a’ this mourning? He’s lighted at yon bonny kirk-style, And his steed has run away from him.’
10 ‘O had yer tongue, my daughter Ann, Nor scold na me about mourning; Hadna my son there men enew To hae taken his steed from him?’
11 They’ve ridden up, they’ve ridden down, Till they came to the kirk o Gemrie; There they saw his winsome bride, Alone at the kirk-style standing.
12 ‘Where away is the man,’ says she, ‘That promised me fair wedding? This day he vowd to meet me here, But O he’s lang o coming!’
13 Up and spak his brother John, Says, ‘Meg, I’ll tell ye plainly; The stream was strang, and we rade wrang, And he’s drownd in the water o Gemrie.’
14 She’s torn the ribons frae her hair, That were baith thick and many; She’s torn them a’, lettin them fa’, And she’s away to the waters o Gemrie.
15 She[’s] sought him up, she’s sought him down, Until that she’s gotten his body, And she’s laid it on the green, green grass, And flung her mantle oer him.
16 ‘O Willie was red, but O now he’s white! And Willie was wondrous bonny, And Willie he said he’d marry me, Gin ere he married oney.
17 ‘He was red, he was white, he was my delight, And aye, aye I thought him bonny; But now since Willie has dy’d for me, I will sleep wi him in the same grave at Gemrie.’
* * * * *
#B. b.#
“The editor has often heard the following additional stanza [the second], though it is omitted by Thomson.”
2^1. links o her gowden locks.
2^3. She’s tied them about.
#D.#
Not divided into stanzas in the MS.
#E.#
Variations in Christie, I, 66:
2^{1–3}. ye’ll.
6^1. O Willie’s.
7^3. And there were mair than threescore and ten.
14^4. at Gamery.
15^2. Where she had ribbons.
15^3. And tore them a’ and let.
15^4. And syne she ran.
16^4. ’Twas there.
17^1. She straiked back.
17^4. We’ll baith sleep.
#G.#
6^1. Originally But out.
#H.#
2^2. bound the bridgestyle.