Appendix
Herd’s MSS, I, 55, II, 187; Herd’s Scottish Songs, 1776, II, 6.
1 ‘O my bonie, bonie may, Will ye not rue upon me? A sound, sound sleep I’ll never get Untill I lie ayon thee.
2 ‘I’ll gie ye four-and-twenty good milk-kye, Wer a’ caft in ae year, may, And a bonie bull to gang them by, That blude red is his hair, may.’
3 ‘I hae nae houses, I hae nae land, I hae nae gowd or fee, sir; I am oer low to be your bryde, Your loon I’ll never be, sir.’
* * * * * *
Motherwell’s MS., p. 37; from the recitation of Thomas Risk, smith, learned by him in his youth at St Ninian’s, Stirlingshire.
1 Montrose he had a poor shepherd, And a poor shepherd was he; He had as fair a daughter As ever you could see, And an earl has fallen in love wi her, And his bride now she must be.
2 The earl he came to the shepherd’s door, And he tirled at the pin; Slowly rose the fair maid For to let the earl in.
3 ‘Good day, good day, fair maid,’ he says; ‘Good day, good day,’ said she; ‘Good day unto thee, noble sir, What is thy will with me?’
4 ‘I’m so possessed with love to thee, That I cannot gang nor stand Till you go unto yonder church, To give me thy right hand.’
5 ‘Oh, no, oh no,’ the fair maid says, ‘Oh that can never be; For thou art a lord of good estate, And I but of mean degree.
6 ‘Oh no, oh no,’ the fair maid says, ‘Thou’rt rich and I am poor; And I am owre mean to be thy wife, Too good to be thy whore.
7 ‘I can shape, and I can sew, And cows and yowes can milk, But I was neer brought up in a lady’s room, To sew satin nor silk.
8 ‘And if you had your will of me Ye wud me soon forget; Ye wad gar turn me doun your stairs And bar on me your yett.’
9 ‘Oh no, oh no,’ the earl says, ‘For so shall never be; For this night or I eat or drink My honoured bride you shall be.’
10 ‘My father he’s a poor shepherd, He’s herding on yon hill; You may go to my old father, And ask at him his will.’
11 The earl he went to the poor shepherd, Who was herding on the lea; ‘Good day, good day, shepherd,’ he says; ‘Good day, good day,’ said he, Good day unto your honour, sir; What is your will with me?’
12 ‘Oh you have a fair daughter; Will ye give her to me, Silk and satin she shall wear, And, shepherd, so shall ye.’
13 ‘It’s true I have a fair daughter, But I’ll not give her to thee; For thou art a lord of good estate, And she but of mean degree.
14 ‘The reason is, thou art too rich, And my daughter is too poor; She is ower mean to be thy wife, Too good to be thy whoore.
15 ‘She can shape, etc. (as verse 7).
16 ‘And if you had your will of her, etc. (8).
17 ‘Oh no, oh no,’ the earl says, etc. (9).
18 The earl he to the fair maid again, Who was spinning at her wheel; She had but one petticoat on her, But oh she set it weel!
19 ‘Cast off, cast off that petticoat That you were wont to wear, And put on a gown of the satin silk, With a garland in your hair.’
20 She cast off the petticoat That she was wont to wear, And she put on a gown of the satin silk, With a garland in her hair.
21 Many, many was there that night To bear them company; And she is the earl’s wife, She’s thrice fairer than he.
Motherwell’s MS., p. 252; from the recitation of Mrs Crum, Dumbarton, 7 April, 1825.
1 ‘O fair maid and true maid, Will ye not on me rue, maid? Here’s my hand, my heart’s command, I’ll come and go by you, maid.
2 ‘I’ve four-and-twenty good milk-kye, A’ calved in a[e] year, maid, And a bonnie bill to eisin them, Just as red as your hair, maid.’
3 ‘Your kye go as far in my heart As they go in my heel, sir; And, altho I be but a shepherd’s dochter, I love my body weel, sir.
4 ‘I love my body weel, sir, And my maidenhead far better; And I’ll keep it to marry me, Because I’m scarse o tocher.’
5 This knicht he turned his bridle about, While the tear stood in his ee; And he’s awa to her father gane, As fast as he could dree.
6 ‘Gude een, gude een, you gude auld man,’ ‘Gude een, you earl’s knicht, sir;’ ‘But you have a fair dochter,’ he says, ‘Will you grant her to me, sir? O silks and satins she shall wear, Indeed and so shall ye, sir.’
7 ‘I have a fair dochter,’ he says, ‘She’s fair of blood and bane, sir; But an ye had your will o her Ye wud leave her alane, sir.’
8 ‘Ye would steek her not your chamber-doors, And bar her at your yett, sir; And an ye had your will o her Ye wud her soon forget, sir.’
9 This knicht he turned his bridle about, While the tear stood in his ee, And he’s awa to this fair maid gane, As fast as he could drie.
10 ‘O fair maid and true maid, Will ye not on me rue, maid? Here’s my hand, my heart’s command, I’ll come and go by you, maid.
11 ‘Cast aff, cast aff your gay black gowns, Put on your gowns of silk, maid; Cast aff, cast aff your gay black snoods, Put the garlands on your hair, maid.’
12 ‘It’s I can bake, and I can brew, And good kye can I milk, sir; But I was neer born in the time o the year To wear the gowns o silk, sir.
13 ‘Yestreen I was a shepherd’s dochter, Whistling my hogs to the hill; But the nicht I am an earl’s lady, I may wear what I will.’
Johnson’s Museum, No 397, p. 410.
As I went out ae May morning, A May morning it chanc’d to be, There I was aware of a weelfar’d maid, Cam linkin oer the lea to me.
O but she was a weelfar’d maid, The bonniest lass that’s under the sun; I spier’d gin she could fancy me, But her answer was, I am too young.
‘To be your bride I am too young, To be your loun wad shame my kin; So therefore, pray, young man, begone, For you never, never shall my favour win.’
237
THE DUKE OF GORDON’S DAUGHTER
#a.# ‘The Duke of Gordon’s Daughter,’ The Duke of Gordon’s Garland, Percy Papers, and another edition in a volume of garlands formerly in Heber’s library. #b.# ‘The Duke of Gordon’s Daughters,’ a stall-copy, printed for John Sinclair, Dumfries. #c.# ‘The Duke of Gordon’s Daughters,’ Stirling, printed by M. Randall. #d.# ‘The Duke of Gordon’s Three Daughters,’ Peterhead, printed by P. Buchan. #e.# ‘The Duke of Gordon’s Three Daughters,’ Kinloch MSS, I, 125. #f.# ‘The Duke o Gordon’s Daughters,’ Murison MS., p. 90, Aberdeenshire. #g.# ‘The Duke o Gordon’s Daughter,’ Gibb MS., p. 13, No 3, from the recitation of Mrs Gibb, senior. #h.# ‘The Duke of Gordon’s Three Daughters,’ Macmath MS., p. 31, a fragment recited by Mrs Macmath, senior, in 1874, and learned by her fifty years before.
A copy of #a# was reprinted by Ritson, Scotish Songs, 1794, II, 169. (There are three slight variations in Ritson, two of which are misprints.) Fifteen stanzas are given from Ritson in Johnson’s Musical Museum, ‘The Duke of Gordon has three daughters,’ No 419, p. 431, 1797 (with a single variation and the correction of a misprint). Smith’s Scotish Minstrel, IV, 98, repeats the stanzas in the Museum, inserting a few words to fill out lines for singing. Christie, Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 2, has made up a ballad from three “traditional” copies. A fragment of four stanzas in Notes and Queries, Second Series, VII, 418, requires no notice.
Burns gave the first stanza as follows (Cromek’s Reliques, p. 229, ed, 1817; Cromek’s Select Scotish Songs, I, 86, 1810):
The lord o Gordon had three dochters, Mary, Marget, and Jean; They wad na stay at bonie Castle Gordon, But awa to Aberdeen.
The first sister’s name is given as Mary in #e# also.
It is very likely that the recited copies were originally learned from print. #e# and #g# have two stanzas which do not appear in #a-d#, but these may occur in some other stall-copy, or have been borrowed from some other ballad.
Ritson pointed out that George Gordon, the fourth Earl of Huntly, killed at Corrichie in 1562, had three daughters, named Elizabeth, Margaret, and Jean, and that Jean, the youngest, married Alexander Ogilvie, Laird of Boyne. These facts, however, can have no relevancy to this ballad. Ogilvie was Lady Jean Gordon’s third husband, and at the death of the second, in 1594, she was in her fiftieth year, or near to that. Her marriage with the Laird of Boyne was “for the utility and profit of her children,” of which she had a full quiver.[139]
Jean, one of the three daughters of the Duke of Gordon (there was no Duke of Gordon before 1684, but that is early enough for our ballad), falls in love with Captain Ogilvie at Aberdeen. Her father threatens to have the captain hanged, and writes to the king to ask that favor. The king refuses to hang Ogilvie, but reduces him to the ranks, makes him a ‘single’ man. The pair lead a wandering life for three years, and are blessed with as many children. At the end of that time they journey afoot to the Highland hills, and present themselves at Castle Gordon in great destitution. Lady Jean is welcomed; the duke will have nothing to do with Ogilvie. Ogilvie goes over seas as a private soldier, but is soon after sent for as heir to the earldom of Northumberland. The duke is now eager to open Castle Gordon to the Captain. Ogilvie wants nothing there but Jean Gordon, whom, with her three children, he takes to Northumberland to enjoy his inheritance.
Nothing in the story of the ballad is known to have even a shadow of foundation in fact.
* * * * *
1 The Duke of Gordon has three daughters, Elizabeth, Margaret, and Jean; They would not stay in bonny Castle Gordon, But they would go to bonny Aberdeen.
2 They had not been in Aberdeen A twelvemonth and a day Till Lady Jean fell in love with Captain Ogilvie, And away with him she would gae.
3 Word came to the Duke of Gordon, In the chamber where he lay, Lady Jean has fell in love with Captain Ogilvie, And away with him she would gae.
4 ‘Go saddle me the black horse, And you’ll ride on the grey, And I will ride to bonny Aberdeen, Where I have been many a day.’
5 They were not a mile from Aberdeen, A mile but only three, Till he met with his two daughters walking, But away was Lady Jean.
6 ‘Where is your sister, maidens? Where is your sister now? Where is your sister, maidens, That she is not walking with you?’
7 ‘O pardon us, honoured father, O pardon us,’ they did say; ‘Lady Jean is with Captain Ogilvie, And away with him she will gae.’
8 When he came to Aberdeen, And down upon the green, There did he see Captain Ogilvie, Training up his men.
9 ‘O wo to you, Captain Ogilvie, And an ill death thou shalt die; For taking to thee my daughter, Hangëd thou shalt be.’
10 Duke Gordon has wrote a broad letter, And sent it to the king, To cause hang Captain Ogilvie If ever he hanged a man.
11 ‘I will not hang Captain Ogilvie, For no lord that I see; But I’ll cause him to put off the lace and scarlet, And put on the single livery.’
12 Word came to Captain Ogilvie, In the chamber where he lay, To cast off the gold lace and scarlet, And put on the single livery.
13 ‘If this be for bonny Jeany Gordon, This pennance I’ll take wi; If this be for bonny Jeany Gordon, All this I will dree.’
14 Lady Jean had not been married, Not a year but three, Till she had a babe in every arm, Another upon her knee.
15 ‘O but I’m weary of wandering! O but my fortune is bad! It sets not the Duke of Gordon’s daughter To follow a soldier-lad.
16 ‘O but I’m weary of wandering! O but I think lang! It sets not the Duke of Gordon’s daughter To follow a single man.’
17 When they came to the Highland hills, Cold was the frost and snow; Lady Jean’s shoes they were all torn, No farther could she go.
18 ‘O wo to the hills and the mountains! Wo to the wind and the rain! My feet is sore with going barefoot, No further am I able to gang.
19 ‘Wo to the hills and the mountains! Wo to the frost and the snow! My feet is sore with going barefoot, No farther am I able for to go.
20 ‘O if I were at the glens of Foudlen, Where hunting I have been, I would find the way to bonny Castle Gordon, Without either stockings or shoon.’
21 When she came to Castle Gordon, And down upon the green, The porter gave out a loud shout, ‘O yonder comes Lady Jean!’
22 ‘O you are welcome, bonny Jeany Gordon, You are dear welcome to me; You are welcome, dear Jeany Gordon, But away with your Captain Ogilvie.’
23 Now over seas went the captain, As a soldier under command; A message soon followed after To come and heir his brother’s land.
24 ‘Come home, you pretty Captain Ogilvie, And heir your brother’s land; Come home, ye pretty Captain Ogilvie, Be Earl of Northumberland.’
25 ‘O what does this mean?’ says the captain; ‘Where’s my brother’s children three?’ ‘They are dead and buried, And the lands they are ready for thee.’
26 ‘Then hoist up your sails, brave captain, Let’s be jovial and free; I’ll to Northumberland and heir my estate, Then my dear Jeany I’ll see.’
27 He soon came to Castle Gordon, And down upon the green; The porter gave out with a loud shout, ‘Here comes Captain Ogilvie!’
28 ‘You’re welcome, pretty Captain Ogilvie, Your fortune’s advanced I hear; No stranger can come unto my gates That I do love so dear.’
29 ‘Sir, the last time I was at your gates, You would not let me in; I’m come for my wife and children, No friendship else I claim.’
30 ‘Come in, pretty Captain Ogilvie, And drink of the beer and the wine; And thou shalt have gold and silver To count till the clock strike nine.’
31 ‘I’ll have none of your gold or silver, Nor none of your white-money; But I’ll have bonny Jeany Gordon, And she shall go now with me.’
32 Then she came tripping down the stair, With the tear into her eye; One babe was at her foot, Another upon her knee.
33 ‘You’re welcome, bonny Jeany Gordon, With my young family; Mount and go to Northumberland, There a countess thou shall be.’
* * * * *
#a.#
The Duke of Gordon’s Garland, composed of several excellent New Songs. I. The Duke of Gordon’s Daughter. II. A new song calld Newcastle Ale. Licensed and enterd according to order.
Heber’s copy differs in a few places from Percy’s, and generally for the worse.
4^2. on wanting.
7^4. she woud.
10^3. cause wanting.
13^4. will not.
16^2. think it.
18^2. and rain.
24^3. you.
24^4. And be.
32^2. tears in her eyes.
Ritson’s. 9^3. wants thee. 13^3. wants for. 31^1. gold and.
#b.#
Two copies, one in the British Museum, 1078. i. 20 (7), Printed at the St. Michael Press, by C. M’Lachlan, Dumfries, dated in the catalogue 1785?
#c.#
British Museum, 11621. b. 12 (28), dated 1810?
A beautiful old song, entitled the Duke of Gordon’s three Daughters. To which is added The Challenge. Stirling: Printed by M. Randall.
#d.#
British Museum, 1078. k. 4 (5), dated 1820? The Duke of Gordon’s Three Daughters. To which is added Mrs Burns Lament for Burns. Peterhead: Printed by P. Buchan.
#b, c, d.#
1^1. had.
1^3. stay at.
1^4. they went to.
2^1. in bonny.
2^3. Till Jean.
2^4. #b.# him went she. #c, d.# And from him she would not stay.
3^1. come.
3^{3,4}. How Lady Jean fell in love with a captain, And from him she would not stay.
4^1. to me: horse, he cry’d.
4^2. My servant shall ride on.
4^3. will go.
4^4. Forthwith to bring her away.
5^2. only one.
5^3. walking wanting.
6^{2,3}. O where.
6^4. #c, d.# not along with.
7^1. #b.# us, they did say.
7^4. And from him she would (#c, d#, will) not stay.
8^1. to bonny.
8^4. #b.# A training of. #c, d.# A training his gallant.
9^1. woe be to thee.
9^4. High hanged. #b.# shalt thou.
10^1. #b.# The Duke he wrote. #c, d.# The D. of G. wrote a letter.
10^2. #b.# he sent.
10^3. Desiring him to hang.
10^4. #b.# eer he causd hang any. #c, d.# For marrying his daughter Jean.
11^1. #b.# O no I. #c, d.# Said the king, I’ll not.
11^2. #b.# For any (#c, d#, all the) offence that.
11^3. him put off the scarlet.
12^1. Now word.
12^3. To strip off.
13^{1,3}. #b.# Jean.
13^3. #c, d.# for my true-love.
13^4. this and more I’ll.
14^2. #c, d.# Not wanting. #b, c, d.# but only.
14^4. And another.
15^1. #b.# weary, weary wandering. #c, d.# weary wandering.
16. O hold thy tongue, bonny Jean Gordon, O hold your tongue, my lamb! (#c, d.# thy) For once I was a noble captain, Now for thy sake a single man.
17^1. #b.# O high is the hills and the mountains. #c, d#, high were: and mountains.
17^2. #b.# and the.
18,19. Wanting.
20^1. #b#. was in. #c, d.# were in.
20^3. I could go. #b.# Jean for Castle, wrongly.
19–21 of #b#are displaced, and come after #b# 26: or, 23–27 of #a# follow #a# 20, and then come this stanza (not in #a#) and #a# 21, 22.
After 20. #b#:
O hold thy tongue, bonny Jean (#c, d.# your) Gordon, O hold your tongue, my dow! I’ve but one half-crown in the world, I’ll buy hose and shoon (#c, d.# And I’ll) to you.
21^1. #b.# Then, wrongly. #b, c, d.# to bonny.
21^2. And coming over the green.
21^3. #b.# porter cried out with a cry. #c, d.# called out very loudly.
21^4. #b.# O wanting. #b, c, d.# comes our.
22^1. #b.# O wanting. #b, c, d.# Jean.
22^2. #b.# dearly. #c, d.# Her father he did say.
22^3. Thou art: Jean.
22^4. Captain wanting.
23^1. over the.
23^3. But a messenger.
23^4. Which caused a countermand.
24^1. #b.# home now pretty. #c, d.# home now brave.
24^2. To enjoy your.
24^3. #b#. home now pretty. #c, d.# O come home gallant.
24^4. You’r the heir of.
25^1. #c, d.# O wanting.
25^3. O they. #b.# are all.
25^4. The lands. #b.# all ready.
26^2. And let’s.
26^3. I’ll go home and have my.
26^4. And then.
27^1. bonny Castle.
27^2. #b.# And then at the gate stood he. #c, d.# he stood, wrongly.
27^3. #b.# porter cry’d out. #c, d.# cry’d with a loud voice.
27^4. #c, d.# O here. #b.# comes the.
28^1. #c, d.# O you’re welcome now, Captain.
28^3. #b.# come to. #c, d.# come within.
29^1. #b.# at wrongly omitted. #b, c, d.# gate.
29^3. #c, d.# Now I’m.
30, 31. Wanting.
32^1. #c, d.# Then Jean came.
32^2. #c, d.# The salt tear in.
32^3. babe she had at every foot.
32^4. #c, d.# And one in her arms did ly.
33. #b.# You’re welcome, bonny Jean Gordon, You are dearly welcome to me; You’re welcome, bonny Jeany Gordon, Countess of Cumberland to be.
#c, d.# The Captain took her straight in his arms, O a happy man was he! Saying, Welcome, etc., as in #b#.
33^4. #c, d.# Northumberland.
After 33. #b.# So the captain came off with his lady, (#c, d.# The captain) And also his sweet babes three; (#c, d.# And his lovely babies three) Saying, I’m as good blood by descent, Tho the great Duke o Gordon you be.
#e-h# are but partially collated.
#e.#
1^1. had.
1^2. Lady Mary, Margret, and Jean.
1^4. they wadna bide.
7^4. From him she will not stay.
8. Wanting.
9^4. Hie hangit shalt thou be.
10^3. Desiring to hang.
10^4. For marrying his dochter Jean.
11^2. For a’ the offence I see.
11^3. gar him throw aff his broad scarlet.
13^4. A’ this and mair I’ll dree.
14^2. A year but only three.
15^1. weary wandering.
16. As in #b#, #c#, #d#.
17^1. High war the hills and the mountains.
18, 19. Wanting.
20^3. I could ga.
After 20:
‘O an I war at bonnie Castle Gordon, . . . . . . . O an I war at bonnie Castle Gordon, There I’d get hose and sheen.’
‘Though ye war at bonnie Castle Gordon, And standing on the green, Your father is sae hard-hearted a man He wad na lat you in.’
‘If I war at bonnie Castle Gordon, And standing on the green, My mither’s a tender-hearted woman, She wad rise and lat me in.’
Then: O haud your tongue—I’ll buy hose and sheen to you, as in #b#, #c#, #d#.
22^4. awa wi your Ogilvie.
23^3. But a messenger.
23^4. Which causd a countermand.
24^4. Ye’re the heir of.
26^3. I’ll gae hame and heir my estate.
After 26:
‘Then hoist up your sail,’ said the Captain, ‘And we’ll gae oure the sea, And I’ll gae to bonnie Castle Gordon, There my dear Jeanie to see.’
27^2. And whan in sicht cam he.
Between 28, 29:
‘The last time I cam to your yetts Ye wadna let me in, But now I’m again at your yetts, And in I will not gang.’
30, 31. Wanting.
32^2. Wi the saut tear in her ee.
32^3. A babe she held in every arm.
32^4. Anither gaun at her knee.
33. As in #c#, #d#, and a concluding stanza as in #b#, #c#, #d#.
#f.#
1^1. had.
2^2. Months but barely three.
2^4, 3^4, 7^4. fae him she winna stay.
3^1. Word’s come.
6^2. sister Jean.
6^4. ye are walkin alane.
9^4. High hangëd.
10^4. If ever he hangëd ane.
13^{2,4}. A’ this I’ll dee an mair.
14. Wanting.
15^1. weary wanrin.
15^4. a single sodger lad.
16. As in #b#, #c#, #d#.
18, 19. Wanting.
20^2. Fa monie merry day I hae been.
After 20 a stanza as in #b#, #c#, #d#, and then this silly one:
‘O they would be bad stockins, O they would be worse sheen, O they would be bad stockins Ye’d get for half a crown.’
21^1. they cam to bonnie Aberdeen.
22^4. awa wi your Ogilvie.
23^3. But a messenger.
23^4. Which proved a counterman.
24^4. You’re the heir o.
26, 30, 31. Wanting.
32^2. Wi the saut tear in her ee.
32^3. She had a babe in ilka airm.
32^4. An a third whar nane could see.
33^2. Ye’re welcome, thrice welcome to me.
33^{3,4}. Ye’re welcome, bonnie Jeannie Gordon, Countess o Northumberlan to be.
#g.#
1^1. had.
2^2. A month but only one.
3^4. from him she wald not stay.
4^2. My servant shall ride on.
4^4. An forthwith bring her away.
5^2. only one.
6^4. she’s not along with you.
7^4. from him she will not stay.
8^4. Training his gallant men.
9^4. It’s high hangit ye sall.
10^3. It was to hang.
10^4. For marrying his daughter Jean.
11^2. For all the offence I can see.
11^4. 12^4. Put on but the.
13. ‘A’ this I will do for your sake, Jeanie Gordon, A’ this I will do for thee; I will cast aff the gold lace an scarlet, Put on but the single livery.’
14^2. Ae year but only three.
15^4. a single soldier-lad.
16. ‘O haud your tongue, Jeannie Gordon, An dinna ye lichtlie me; I was tane frae a captain’s commission An made low for lyin wi thee.’
(17 as 15.) 17^1. High were the hills an the mountains.
18, 19. Wanting.
Before 20:
‘Haud your tongue, Jeannie Gordon, Ye needna gloom on me; I hae but ae half-crown in the warld, I’ll buy stockings an shoon to thee.’
20^1. If I were in the bonny glens o Ourdlie.
20^2. Where mony bonny days I hae been.
After 20:
‘If ye were at bonny Castle Gordon, An lichtit on the green, Your faither is a hard-hearted man, He wald na let you in.’
‘If I were at bonny Castle Gordon, An lichtit on the green, My mother’s a good-hearted woman, She wald open an lat me in.’
22. The Duke o Gordon cam trippin doun stairs Wi the saut tear in his ee: (cf. 32^2) ‘Ye’re welcome here, Jeannie Gordon, Wi a’ your young family, (cf. 33^2) Ye’re welcome here, Jeannie Gordon, But awa wi your Ogilvie.’
23^{1,2}. The Captain took ship an sailed, He sailed from the land.
23^3. But a messenger.
23^4. Which caused a countermand.
24^{1,3}. Come back, come back, C. O.
24^4. You are earl.
25. Wanting.
26^3. I will gae hame an.
27^2. An lichtit on the green.
27^4. Says, Here’s Captain Ogilvie again.
After 27:
The Duke o Gordon cam trippin doun stairs, Wi his hat into his hand: ‘Ye’re welcome hame, Captain Ogilvie, The heir o Northumberland.’
After 28:
‘Put up your hat, Duke o Gordon, An do not let it fa; It never set the noble Duke o Gordon To bow to a single soldier-lad.’
29^4. No ither favour I claim.
30, 31. Wanting.
32^2. the saut tear in her ee.
32^{3,4}. You’re welcome hame, Captain Ogilvie, You’re dearly welcome to me.
33. Wanting.
After 33: The Captain went aff with his lady, nearly as in #b-e#.
The order of stanzas is deranged. Some of the variations are clearly misremembrances.
#h.#
Nine stanzas only.
1^1. had.
1^4. wud awa.
2^2. A month but barely twa.
2^4. from him she wudna stay.
3^4. from him she will not stay.
11^2. For any offence that.
15^1. weary, weary wanderin.
After 15: Had yer tongue—I’ll buy hose and shoon for you, Had yer tongue—For your sake I’m a single man.
22^4. awa wi your Ogilvie.
Christie’s ballad has many of the readings of #a#, and a few of the editor’s. Of “two verses, as sung in the counties of Banff and Moray, hitherto unpublished,” one is in all copies except #a#; the other is the inept stanza (see #f#):
‘Oh, coarse, coarse would be the stockings, And coarser would be the shoon, Oh, coarse, coarse would they baith be, You would buy for ae siller crown.’
238
GLENLOGIE, OR, JEAN O BETHELNIE
#A.# Skene MS., p. 13.
#B.# ‘Glenlogie,’ Sharpe’s Ballad Book, 1823, p. 37.
#C.# ‘Glenlogie,’ Gibb MS., No 6, p. 33.
#D.# ‘There waur aucht an forty nobles,’ Harris MS., fol. 17.
#E. a.# ‘Jean o Bethelnie’s Love for Sir G. Gordon,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 188. #b.# ‘Bonnie Jean o Bethelnie,’ Christie’s Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 54.
#F.# ‘Jean o Bethelnie,’ Percy Papers, communicated by R. Lambe, 1768.
#G.# ‘Glenlogie,’ Alexander Laing’s MS., p. 8.
#H.# ‘Glenlogie,’ Kinloch MSS, V, 431.
#I. a.# “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 77, Abbotsford. #b#. ‘Glenogie,’ Smith’s Scotish Minstrel, IV, 78, 1822.
‘Glenlogie,’ in Chambers’ Popular Rhymes of Scotland, 1826, p. 200, is a repetition of #B#. #F#, the copy earliest taken down, is not pure and unvarnished tradition. The reconstructed copy in the Ballad Minstrelsy of Scotland, Glasgow, 1871, p. 506, was “based on a MS. version communicated to Mr Buchan in a letter from Mr Alexander Laing, dated Brechin, April 9th, 1829, and there given by him as taken down from the recitation of the amiable daughter of a clergyman in the North.” #G#, from Laing’s MS., may be supposed to be the ballad sent to Buchan by Laing. #I b# has been touched up by one of “that parliament of gentle ladies,” in Motherwell’s phrase, who had charge of the literary part of Smith’s Scotish Minstrel.
Jean of Bethelnie, #A#, #C#, #E#, #F#, Jean Melville, #B#, #D#, #G#, of the age of fifteen or sixteen, scarce seventeen, #G#, falls in love at sight with Glenlogie (Earl Ogie, #F#, Glenogie, #I b#), and opens her mind to him. Glenlogie, though much flattered, is obliged to say that he is already promised.[140] Jean takes to her bed, determined to die. Her father (mother, #A#[141]), as all too frequently happens at such conjunctures, proposes the miserable comfort of another and a better match, and, as usual, is told to hold his tongue. The chaplain of the family (the father himself is a king’s chaplain in #F#) takes the business in hand, and writes a broad, long, and well-penned letter to Glenlogie, setting forth the desperate condition of the girl. Glenlogie is so much affected that he rides to Bethelnie with all haste and presents himself to Jean as her bridegroom, although promised awa.
The young lady is Jean Gordon in #C#. #H# has changed Bethelnie to Belhelvie, another Aberdeenshire town. I has Glenfeldy for Bethelnie.
Gerhard, p. 103, has translated #E a#; Knortz, Schottische Balladen, p. 15, Aytoun’s copy, that is, #B#.
* * * * *
A
Skene MS., p. 13; taken down from recitation in the north of Scotland, 1802–3.
1 Four an twenty noblemen they rode thro Banchory fair, But bonnie Glenlogie was flower [of a’] that was there.
2 Four and twenty noblemen rode from Banchory ha, But bonnie Glenlogie he was flower of them a’.
3 ‘O bonnie Glenlogie, be constant and kind, An, bonnie Glenlogie, I’ll tell you my mind.
4 . . . . so frank and so free, . . . and I get na Glenlogie, I’ll die.’
5 ‘O bonnie Jeanie, your portion’s but sma To lay your love on me, that’s promist awa.’
6 Her cherry cheeks grew pale an wan; with the tear in her ee, ‘Gin I get na Glenlogie, I surely will die.’
7 Ben came her father, steps to her bowr: ‘Dear Jeanie, you’r acting the part of a [whore].
8 ‘You’re seeking ane that cares na for thee; Ye’s get Lord William, let Glenlogie be.’
9 ‘O had you still, father, let your folly be; Gin I get na Glenlogie, I surely will die.’
10 Ben came her mother, steps on the floor: ‘Dear daughter Jeanie, you’re acting the [whore],
11 ‘Seeking of ane that cares na for thee; For ye’ll get Lord William, let Glenlogie be.’
12 ‘O had your tongue, mother, and let me be; An I get na Glenlogie, I surely will die.’
13 O ben came her father’s chaplain, a man of great skill, And he has written a broad letter, and he has pennd it well.
14 H’as pennd it well, an sent it awa To bonnie Glenlogie, the flower of them a’.
15 When he got the letter, his tears did down fa ‘She’s laid her love on me, that was promist awa.’
16 He calld on his servant wi speed, and bade him saddle his horses, and bridle them a’: ‘For she has laid her love on me, altho I was promist awa.’
17 The horses were saddled wi speed, but ere they came he was four mile awa, To Jean of Bethelny, the flowr of them a’.
18 But when he came to her bowr she was pale and wan, But she grew red and ruddy when Glenlogie came in.
19 ‘Cheer up, bonnie Jeannie, ye are flowr o them a’; I have laid my love on you, altho I was promist awa.’
20 Her beauty was charming, her tocher down tauld; Bonnie Jean of Bethelny was scarce fifteen year auld.
* * * * *
B
Sharpe’s Ballad Book, p. 37, 1823.
1 Four and twenty nobles sits in the king’s ha, Bonnie Glenlogie is the flower among them a’.
2 In came Lady Jean, skipping on the floor, And she has chosen Glenlogie ‘mong a’ that was there.
3 She turned to his footman, and thus she did say: Oh, what is his name? and where does he stay?
4 ‘His name is Glenlogie, when he is from home; He is of the gay Gordons, his name it is John.’
5 ‘Glenlogie, Glenlogie, an you will prove kind, My love is laid on you; I am telling my mind.’
6 He turned about lightly, as the Gordons does a’: ‘I thank you, Lady Jean, my loves is promised awa.’
7 She called on her maidens her bed for to make, Her rings and her jewels all from her to take.
8 In came Jeanie’s father, a wae man was he; Says, I’ll wed you to Drumfendrich, he has mair gold than he.
9 Her father’s own chaplain, being a man of great skill, He wrote him a letter, and indited it well.
10 The first lines he looked at, a light laugh laughed he; But ere he read through it the tears blinded his ee.
11 Oh, pale and wan looked she when Glenlogie cam in, But even rosy grew she when Glenlogie sat down.
12 ‘Turn round, Jeanie Melville, turn round to this side, And I’ll be the bridegroom, and you’ll be the bride.’
13 Oh, ‘t was a merry wedding, and the portion down told, Of bonnie Jeanie Melville, who was scarce sixteen years old.
* * * * *
C
Gibb MS., No 6, p. 33, from the recitation of Mrs Gibb, senior; traced to Mrs E. Lindsay, about 1800.
1 There was three score o nobles sat at the king’s dine, An bonny Glenlogie was flower o thrice nine.
* * * * * *
2 . . . . cam trippin downstair, An she fancied Glenlogie ower a’ that was there.
3 She called on the footman that ran by his side, Says, What is that man’s name, an where does he bide?
4 ‘His name is Glenlogie when he goes from home. But he’s of the great Gordons, an his name is Lord John.’
5 ‘Glenlogie! Glenlogie! Glenlogie!’ said she, ‘An for bonnie Glenlogie I surely will die.’
6 She called on her maidens to make her her bed, . . . . . . . . .
* * * * * *
7 When Glenlogie got the letter, amang noble-men, ‘Dear me,’ said Glenlogie, ‘what does young women mean!’
8 Then up spake his father, Let it never be said That such a fine lady should die for your sake.
9 ‘Go saddle my black horse, go saddle him soon, Till I go to Bethelnie, to see Lady Jean.’
10 When he got to Bethelnie, there was naebody there But was weeping an wailing an tearing their hair.
* * * * * *
11 ‘Turn round, Jeanie Gordon, turn round to this side; I’ll be the bridegroom, an ye’s be the bride.’
* * * * *
D
Harris MS., fol. 17; learned from Mrs Harris before 1832.
1 There waur aucht an forty nobles rade to the king’s ha, But bonnie Glenlogie was the flour o them a’.
2 There waur aucht an forty nobles rade to the king’s dine, But bonnie Glenlogie was the flour o thrice nine.
3 Bonnie Jeanie Melville cam trippin doun the stair, An whan she saw Glenlogie her hairt it grew sair.
4 . . . . . . . . . ‘He’s of the gay Gordons, his name it is John.’
5 ‘Oh, Logie! Oh, Logie! Oh, Logie!’ said she, ‘If I get na Glenlogie, I surely will dee.’
6 He turned him aboot, as the Gordons do a’, Says, I thank you, Lady Jeanie, but I’m promised awa.
7 She called on her maidens her hands for to take, An the rings from her fingers she did them a’ break.
8 ‘Oh, what is my lineage, or what is my make. That such a fine lady suld dee for my sake?’
9 Such a pretty wedding, as I have been told, An bonnie Jeanie Melville was scarce sixteen years old.
* * * * *
E
#a.# Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 188. #b.# Christie’s Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 54.
1 There were four-and-twenty ladies dined i the Queen’s ha, And Jean o Bethelnie was the flower o them a’.
2 Four-and-twenty gentlemen rode thro Banchory fair, But bonny Glenlogie was the flower that was there.
3 Young Jean at a window she chanced to sit nigh, And upon Glenlogie she fixed an eye.
4 She calld on his best man, unto him did say, O what is that knight’s name? or where does he stay?
5 ‘He’s of the noble Gordons, of great birth and fame; He stays at Glenlogie, Sir George is his name.’
6 Then she wrote a broad letter, and wrote it in haste; To send to Glenlogie, she thought it was best.
7 Says, O brave Glenlogie, unto me be kind; I’ve laid my love on you, and told you my mind.
8 Then reading the letter, as he stood on the green, Says, I leave you to judge, sirs; what does women mean?
9 Then turnd about sprightly, as the Gordons do a’: ‘Lay not your love on me, I’m promisd awa.’
10 When she heard this answer, her heart was like to break, That she laid her love on him, and him so ungrate.
11 Then she calld on her maidens to lay her to bed, And take her fine jewels and lay them aside.
12 ‘My seals and my signets, no more shall I crave; But linen and trappin, a chest and a grave.’
13 Her father stood by her, possessëd with fear To see his dear daughter possessëd with care.
14 Says, Hold your tongue, Jeannie, let all your folly be; I’ll wed you to Dumfedline, he is better than he.
15 ‘O hold your tongue, father, and let me alane; If I getna Glenlogie, I ‘ll never have ane.
16 ‘His bonny jimp middle, his black rolling eye, If I getna Glenlogie, I’m sure I shall die.’
17 But her father’s old chaplain, a man of great skill, He wrote a broad letter, and pennëd it well.
18 Saying, O brave Glenlogie, why must it be so? A maid’s love laid on you, shall she die in her woe?
19 Then reading the letter, his heart was like to break That such a leal virgin should die for his sake.
20 Then he calld on his footman, and likewise his groom, Says, Get my horse saddled and bridlëd soon.
21 Before the horse was saddled and brought to the yate, Bonnie Glenlogie was five miles on foot.
22 When he came to Bethelnie, he saw nothing there But weeping and wailing, vexation and care.
23 Then out spake her father, with the tear in his ee, You’re welcome, Glenlogie, you’re welcome to me.
24 ‘If ye make me welcome, as welcome’s ye say, Ye’ll show me the chamber where Jeannie does lay.’
25 Then one o her maidens took him by the hand, To show him the chamber where Jeannie lay in.
26 Before that she saw him, she was pale and wan; But when she did see him, she grew ruddy again.
27 ‘O turn, bonny Jeannie, turn you to your side; For I’ll be the bridegroom, and ye’ll be the bride.’
28 When Jeannie was married, her tocher down tauld, Bonny Jean o Bethelnie was fifteen years auld.
* * * * *
F
Communicated to Percy by Robert Lambe, of Norham, August 17, 1768; dated April, 1768.
1 Fourscore nobles ride in the king’s court, And bonny Earl Ogie’s the flower of the rout; Fourscore lean oer the castle-wa, But Jean of Bethelnie’s the flower of em a’.
2 She writ a broad letter, and pennd it fou lang, And sent it Earl Ogie as fast as ‘t can gang: ‘Bonny Earl Ogie, be courteous and kind; I’ve laid my love on thee; maun I die in my prime?’
3 ‘O pox on thee, Jenny, for being sae slaw! Bonny Earl Ogie is promisd awa:’ This letter was like to mak her heart break, For revealing her mind to a man so ingrate.
4 ‘Come here, all my handmaids, O do this with speed, Take my gowns and my passments, and lay me to bed; Lay me to my bed, it is all that I crave; Wi my sark in my coffin, lay me in my grave.’
5 Her father beheld her with heart full of grief, And spoke these words to her, to gi her relief: Hawd your tongue, Jenny, your mourning let be, You shall have Drumfinely, who’s as good as he.
6 ‘Haud your tongue, father, your words make me sad; If I get not Earl Ogie, I still shall be bad; With his bonny streight body, and black rolling eee, If I get not Earl Ogie, for him I mun dee.’
7 Her father, king’s chaplain, and one of great skill, Did write a broad letter, and pennd it fou weel; He as writ a broad letter, and pennd it fou lang, And sent it Earl Ogie as fast as ‘t can gang.
8 ‘Bonny Earl Ogie, be courteous and kind; My daughter loves you; must she die in her prime?’ When he read the first lines, a loud laugh gave he; But or he redd the middle, the tear filld his ee.
9 ‘Come here, all my footmen, and also my groom, Go saddle my horses, and saddle them soon:’ They were not weel saddled and set on the green Or bonny Earl Ogie was twa mile his lain.
10 When he came to Bethelnie, he nothing saw there But mourning and weeping, lamentation and care: ‘O you that’s her handmaid, take me by the hand, Lead me to the chamber that Jenny lies in.’
11 When thither he came, she was pale and half dead; As soon as she saw him, her cheeks they grew red: ‘Come, turn thee, my Jenny, come, turn on thy side, I’ll be the bridegroom, you shall be the bride.’
12 Her spirit revived to hear him say sae, And thus ended luckily all her great wae; Then streight were they married, with joy most profound, And Jean of Bethelnie was sav’d from the ground.
* * * * *
G
Alexander Laing’s MS., “Ancient Ballads and Songs, etc., etc., from the Recitation of Old People,” p. 8, 1829.
1 There was mony a braw noble cum to our king’s ha, But the bonnie Glenlogie was the flower o them a’; An the young ladye Jeanye, sae gude an sae fair, She fancyd Glenlogie aboon a’ that were there.
2 She speered at his footman that rode by his side His name an his surname an whare he did bide: ‘He bides a[t] Glenlogie whan he is at hame, He is of the gay Gordons, an John is his name.’
3 ‘Oh, Logie, Glenlogie, I’ll tell you my mind; My luve is laid on you, O wad ye prove kind!’ He turned him about, as the Gordons do a’, ‘I thank [you], fair ladye, but I’m promised awa.’
4 She called on her maidens her hands for to take, An the rings on her fingers she did them a’ break: ‘Oh, Logie, Glenlogie! Oh, Logie!’ said she, ‘Gin I get na Glenlogie, I’m sure I will die.’
5 ‘O hold your tongue, daughter, an weep na sae sair, For ye’ll get Drumfindlay, his father’s young heir.’ ‘O hold your tongue, father, an let me alane, Gin I get na Glenlogie, I winna hae ane.’
6 Her father wrote a broad letter wi speed, And ordered his footman to run and ride; He wrote a broad letter, he wrote it wi skill, An sent it to Glenlogie, who had dune her the ill.
7 The first line that he read, a light laugh gae he; The next line that he read, the tear filld his ee: ‘O what a man am I, an hae I a maik, That such a fine ladye shoud die for my sake?
8 ‘Ye’ll saddle my horse, an ye’ll saddle him sune, An, when he is saddled, bring him to the green:’ His horse was na saddled an brocht to the green, When Glenlogie was on the road three miles his lane.
9 When he came to her father’s, he saw naething there But weeping an wailing an sobbing fu sair: O pale an wan was she when Logie gaed in, But red an ruddie grew she when Logie gaed ben.
10 ‘O turn, Ladye Jeany, turn ye to your side, For I’ll be the bridegroom, an ye’ll be the bride:’ It was a blythe wedding as ever I’ve seen, An bonny Jeany Melville was scarce seventeen.
* * * * *
H
Kinloch MSS, V, 431; in Kinloch’s hand.
1 Six and six nobles gaed to Belhelvie fair, But bonnie Glenlogie was flowr o a’ there; Bonnie Jean o Behelvie gaed tripping doun the stair, And fancied Glenlogie afore a’ that was there.
2 She said to his serving-man, as he stood aside, O what is that man’s name, and whare does he bide ? ‘They call him Glenlogie whan he goes frae home, But he’s come o the grand Gordons, and [h]is name is Lord John.’
3 ‘Glenlogie, Glenlogie, be constant and kind; I’ve laid my love on you, I’ll tell you my mind:’ ‘O wae’s me heart, Jeanie, your tocher’s oure sma; Lay na your love on me, for I’m promised awa.’
4 She called for the servant to show her a room, Likewise for a handmaid to mak her bed doun; Wi that Jeanie’s father cam stepping on the floor, Says, What is the matter my dochter lies here?
5 ‘Forgie, honourd father, my folly,’ said she, ‘But for the sake o Glenlogie your dochter will dee:’ ‘O cheer up, my dochter, for I’ll gie ye my hand That ye’se get young Glenforbar, w’ an earldom of land.
6 ‘O cheer up, my dochter, turn ance frae the wa, And ye’ll get Glenforbar, the flowr o them a’:’ ‘I wad rather tak Glenlogie wi his staff in his hand Afore I wad tak Glenforbar wi an earldom of land.’
7 Jeanie’s father was a scholar, and a man o grit wit, And he wrote him a letter, he thought it was fit.
8 When Glenlogie gat the letter, he was amang nobles a’, . . . . . he lute his hat fa: ‘I wonder i the warld what women see at me, For bonnie Jean o Belhelvie is a dying for me:’
9 He calld for his servant to saddle his steed, . . . . . wi speed; The horse was na saddled, but out on the green, Till bonnie Glenlogie was some miles him leen.
10 Whan he cam to Belhelvie, he rade round about, And he saw Jeanie’s father at a window look out.
11 Bonnie Jean o Belhevie lay pale and wan, But red and ruddy grew she when Glenlogie cam in: ‘Lie yont, bonnie Jeanie, and let me lie down, For ye’se be bride, and I’se be bridegroom.’
* * * * *
I
#a.# “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border-Minstrelsy,” No. 77. Written down from the recitation of Mrs Graham, of Inchbrakie, by Mrs Steuart, of Dalguise, and given, September, 1802, to Mr Robert Carlyle, by whom it was communicated to Sir Walter Scott. #b.# Smith’s Scotish Minstrel, IV, 78 (of the second edition).
1 ‘There’s fifty young nobles rides up the king’s hall And bonny Glenlogie’s the flower of them all; Wi his milk-white steed, and his black rolling ee, If I get na Glenlogie, it’s certain I’ll die.
2 ‘Where will I get a bonny boy, to win hose and shoon, To go to Glenlogie and bid Logie come?’ ‘Here am I a pretty boy, to win baith hose and shoon, To go to Glenlogie and bid Logie come.’
3 When he came to Glenlogie, it was ‘wash and go dine:’ ‘Come in, my pretty boy, wash and go dine:’ ‘It was no my father’s fashion, and I hope it’ll no be mine, To run a lady’s hasty errand, then to go dine.
4 ‘Here take this letter, Glenlogie,’ said he. The first ane line that he read, a low smile gave he; The next ane line that he read, the tear blinded his ee; But the next line that he read he garrd the table flee.
5 ‘O saddle to me the black horse, saddle to me the brown, Saddle to me the swiftest horse that eer rode frae the town:’ But lang or the horses could be brought to the green Bonie Glenlogie was twa mile his lean.
6 When he came to Glenfeldy’s gates, little mirth was there, Bonie Jean’s mother was tearing her hair: ‘You’re welcome, Glenlogie, you’re welcome to me, You’re welcome, Glenlogie, your Jeanie to see.’
7 O pale and wan was she when Logie came in, But red and rosy grew she wheneer he sat down: ‘O turn you, bonie Jeanie, O turn you to me, For, if you’ll be the bride, the bridegroom I will be.’
* * * * *
#A.# Not divided into stanzas.
5^1. your portion’s. Qy, your fortune’s? (your luck is small).
5^2. I am promist awa, I’m promist awa, to lay your love on me that’s promist awa.
6^2. Gin I get na Glenlogie, I surely will die, I surely will die.
7^1. fathers.
9^1. your still, which may possibly be meant.
10^1. mothers steps.
19. Cheer up bonnie Jeannie I have laid my love on you Ye are flowr o them a’ I have laid my love on you Altho I was promist awa.
#C.# Written in stanzas of four short lines.
#D.#
Written, as far as the imperfect text would allow, in stanzas of eight short lines.
#E.# In stanzas of four short lines.
#b.#
“Epitomized from Buchan’s Ballads, with a few alterations from the way the Editor has heard it sung.”
1^2. Bonnie Jean: was flower.
2^1. There were four-and-twenty nobles.
2^2. And bonnie: was flower o them there.
3^1. Bonnie Jean.
3^2. And on young G.: her eye.
4^1. and to him.
6^2. for she.
7^1. And says.
9^1. Then he.
10^1. heard his.
10^2. she’d.
28^1. and her tocher was tauld.
#H.#
7–11 are in couplets in the MS.
#I.#
#b.# Glenogie for Glenlogie.
1^1. Threescore o nobles rade.
1^2. But.
1^3. his bonny black.
1^4. Glenogie, dear mither, Glenogie for me!
After 1:
‘O had your tongue, dochter, ye’ll get better than he.’ ‘O say nae sae, mither, for that canna be; Tho Drumlie is richer, and greater than he, Yet, if I maun tak him, I’ll certainly dee.’
2^{2,4}. Will gae: and cum shune again.
2^3. O here: a bonny: win hose.
3^1. he gaed.
3^2. ‘T was wash ye, my.
3^3. O ‘t was neer: and it neer shall.
3^4. To gar: wait till I dine.
4^1. But there is, Glenogie, a letter to thee.
4^2. first line.
4^3. next line.
4^4. the last.
5^1. Gar saddle the: gae saddle the.
5^2. Gar saddle the swiftest steed eer rade frae a.
5^3. ere the horse was drawn and brought.
5^4. O bonny.
6^1. door for gates.
6^3. (end) welcome, said she.
7^1. O wanting: Glenogie gaed ben.
7^{3,4}. An editorial improvement:
She turned awa her head, but the smile was in her ee: ‘O binna feared, mither, I’ll may be no dee.’
239
LORD SALTOUN AND AUCHANACHIE
#A.# ‘Lord Salton and Auchanachie.’ #a.# Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 133. #b.# Maidment’s North Countrie Garland, p. 10; Buchan’s Gleanings, p. 161.
#B. a.# ‘Young Annochie,’ Murison MS., p. 76. #b.# ‘Lord Saltoun and Annachie,’ Christie’s Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 10.
#A.# Jeanie Gordon loves Auchanachie, who is bonny and braw, but she is forced by her father to wed Saltoun, who is bowed in the back and thrawin in the knee; and all for Saltoun’s lands. Jeanie refuses to be bedded; her maidens, at her father’s order, loose off her gown (they cut her gown and stays); she falls in a swoon and dies. Auchanachie comes home from the sea the same day, learns what has happened, asks to be taken to the chamber where Jeanie lies, kisses her cold lips, and dies.
In #B# we have Gordon of Annachie in Buchan, instead of Gordon of Auchanachie in Strathbogie as in #A#. Christie, on very slight grounds, suggests that one Garden of Annachie was the proper hero: I, 287, 294.
There can hardly be a doubt that this ballad is Mrs Brown of Falkland’s ‘Lass o Philorth’ (see note, p. 309). Philorth is the seat of the Frasers of Saltoun, near Fraserburgh, in the extreme northeast corner of Aberdeenshire.
As to #A a# 2^{1,2}, #b# 1, #B# 2^{1,2}, see note [B] to the preceding ballad, p. 339.
* * * * *
A
#a.# Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 133, 1828. #b.# Maidment’s North Countrie Garland, p. 10, 1824; Buchan’s Gleanings, p. 161, 1825.
1 ‘Auchanachie Gordon is bonny and braw, He would tempt any woman that ever he saw; He would tempt any woman, so has he tempted me, And I’ll die if I getna my love Auchanachie.’
2 In came her father, tripping on the floor, Says, Jeanie, ye’re trying the tricks o a whore; Ye’re caring for them that cares little for thee; Ye must marry Salton, leave Auchanachie.
3 ‘Auchanachie Gordon, he is but a man; Altho he be pretty, where lies his free land? Salton’s lands they lie broad, his towers they stand hie, Ye must marry Salton, leave Auchanachie.
4 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ‘Salton will gar you wear silk gowns fring’d to thy knee, But ye’ll never wear that wi your love Auchanachie.’
5 ‘Wi Auchanachie Gordon I would beg my bread Before that wi Salton I’d wear gowd on my head, Wear gowd on my head, or gowns fring’d to the knee; And I’ll die if I getna my love Auchanachie.
6 ‘O Salton’s [a] valley lies low by the sea, He’s bowed on the back, and thrawin on the knee;’ . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
7 ‘O Salton’s a valley lies low by the sea; Though he’s bowed on the back and thrawin on the knee, Though he’s bowed on the back and thrawin on the knee, The bonny rigs of Salton they’re nae thrawin tee.’
8 ‘O you that are my parents to church may me bring, But unto young Salton I’ll never bear a son; For son or for daughter, I’ll ne’er bow my knee, And I’ll die if I getna my love Auchanachie.’
9 When Jeanie was married, from church was brought hame, When she wi her maidens sae merry shoud hae been, When she wi her maidens sae merry shoud hae been, She’s called for a chamber, to weep there her lane.
10 ‘Come to your bed, Jeanie, my honey and my sweet, For to stile you mistress I do not think it meet:’ ‘Mistress or Jeanie, it is a’ ane to me, It’s in your bed, Salton, I never will be.’
11 Then out spake her father, he spake wi renown; Some of you that are maidens, ye’ll loose aff her gown; Some of you that are maidens, ye’ll loose aff her gown, And I’ll mend the marriage wi ten thousand crowns.
12 Then ane of her maidens they loosed aff her gown, But bonny Jeanie Gordon she fell in a swoon; She fell in a swoon low down by their knee; Says, Look on, I die for my love Auchanachie!
13 That very same day Miss Jeanie did die, And hame came Auchanachie, hame frae the sea; Her father and mither welcomd him at the gate; He said, Where’s Miss Jeanie, that she’s nae here yet?
14 Then forth came her maidens, all wringing their hands, Saying, Alas for your staying sae lang frae the land! Sae lang frae the land, and sae lang on the fleed! They’ve wedded your Jeanie, and now she is dead.
15 ‘Some of you, her maidens, take me by the hand, And show me the chamber Miss Jeanie died in;’ He kissd her cold lips, which were colder than stane, And he died in the chamber that Jeanie died in.
* * * * *
B
#a.# Murison MS., p. 76. b. Christie’s Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 10.
1 ‘Buchan, it’s bonnie, an there lies my love, My heart is fixt on him, it winna remove; It winna remove for a’ at I can dee, An I never will forsake him Young Annochie.’
2 Her father cam trippin, cam trippin ben the floor, Says, Jeannie, ye hae but the tricks o a whore; Ye care little for the man that cares muckle for thee, But I’ll cause you marry Saltoun, let Annochie be.
3 ‘Ye may marry me to Saltoun before that I go home, But it is to Lord Saltoun I’ll never bear a son; A son nor a daughter I’ll never bear to he, An I never will forsake him Young Annochie.’
4 ‘All you that is her maidens, ye’ll tak her by the han, An I will inheft her o five thousan poun; She’ll wear silk to her heel and gowd to her knee, An I’ll cause her to forsake him Young Annochie.’
5 ‘All you that is my maidens winna tak me by the han, I winna be inhefted o five thousan poun; I’ll nae wear silk to my heal nor wear gowd to my knee, An I never will forsake him Young Annochie.’
6 ‘All you that is her maidens, ye’ll show her to her bed; The blankets they are ready, the sheets are comely spread; She shall lie in my airms till twelve o the day, An I’ll cause her to forsake him Young Annochie.’
7 ‘All you that is my maidens winna show me to my bed, Tho the blankets they be ready, the sheets be comely spread; I’ll nae lie in your airms till twelve o the day, An I never will forsake him Young Annochie.’
8 It’s that day they wedded her, an that day she died, An that day Young Annochie cam in on the tide; . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
9 Her maidens did meet him, a’ wringin their hans, Sayin, It’s a’ for your stayin so long on the sans! They’ve wedded your Jeannie, an now she is dead, An it’s a’ for your stayin sae long on the fleed.
10 ‘All you that is her maidens ye’ll tak me by the han, Ye’ll show me the bower that Jeannie lies in:’ He kissed her cold lips, they were both white an red, And for bonnie Jeannie Gordon Young Annochie died.
* * * * *
#A. a.# 4–6 are disarranged, and an attempt has been made at a better grouping. 4^{3,4}, 5^{1,2}, are 4; 5^{3,4} are 5^{1,2}; 6^{1,2} are 5^{3,4}.
14^2. The reading of #b# is better: on the sands.
14^3. frae the fleed: #b# reads, rightly, on the flood (fleed).
#b.#
Printed by Maidment in stanzas of four short lines; by Buchan, in long lines, not properly grouped.
1 Ben came her father, skipping on the floor, Said, Jeanie, you’re trying the tricks of a whore.
2 ‘You’re caring for him that cares not for thee; And I pray you take Salton, let Auchanachie be.’
3 ‘I will not have Salton, it lies low by the sea; He is bowed in the back, he’s thrawen in the knee; And I’ll die if I get not my brave Auchanachie.’
4 ‘I am bowed in the back, lassie, as ye see, But the bonny lands of Salton are no crooked tee.’
5 And when she was married she would not lie down, But they took out a knife, and cuttit her gown.
6 Likewise of her stays the lacing in three; And now she lies dead for her Auchanachie.
7 Out comes her bower-woman, wringing her hands, Says, Alas for the staying so long on the sands!
8 ‘Alas for the staying so long on the flood! For Jeanie was married, and now she is dead.’
#B. a.#
8, 9 are written together.
9^4. on the sans: cf. #A a# 14^1, #b# 8^1, #B b#.
#b.#
Some trivial variations are not noticed. Printed in six stanzas of eight long lines.
1^1. lives.
1^4. Oh, never will I forget my love Annachie.
After 1:
‘For Annachie Gordon is bonnie and braw, He’d entice any woman that ever him saw; He’d entice any woman, and sae he has done me, And I’ll die if I getna my love Annachie.’
2^{1,2}. As in #A a#.
2^3. care meikle: cares little.
2^4. Saltoun and leave Annachie.
After 2:
‘For Annachie Gordon is nothing but a man; Although he be brave, he has little free lan; His towns a’ lie waste, and his lands a’ lie lea, And I’ll cause you marry Saltoun, let Annachie be.’
3^1. wed me: before he goes home.
3^2. neer hae.
3^{3,4}. ‘A son or a daughter, it’s a’ ane to me, For I’ll cause you marry Saltoun and leave Annachie.’
After 3:
He wed her to Saltoun before he gaed home, But unto Lord Saltoun she neer had a son; For, instead of being merry her maidens among, She gaed to her bower and wept there alone.
4^1. Some of you her.
4^2. infeft her in houses and land.
4^3. shall wear silk and satin, wi red goud.
4^4. to forget him the.
5^{1,2}. Oh you, my maidens, you shall not take my hand, Nor will I be infefted in houses and land.
5^3. Nor will I wear silk nor red goud.
5^4. For never will I forget my love #A#.
After 5:
‘Wi Annachie Gordon I would beg my bread Before wi Lord Saltoun I would wear goud red; For he’s bowd on the back and he’s thrawn in the knee:’ ‘But the bonnie rigs o Saltoun are nae thrawn tee.’
6, 7. Wanting.
8. The day she was married, that same day she died, While Annachie Gordon was waiting for the tide; He waited for the tide to tak him oer the fleed, But he little thought his Jeanie Gordon was deed.
9^1. Then out cam her maidens.
9^2. Wae for: frae the.
9^3. hae married.
9^4. Oh, wae for: on the fleed.
10^1. Some of you her maidens: me ben.
10^2. the chamber where.
10^3. were colder than clay.
10^4. And he died in the chamber where his Jeanie lay.
240
THE RANTIN LADDIE
#A. a.# ‘The Rantin Laddie,’ Johnson’s Museum, No 462, p. 474. #b.# ‘Lord Aboyne,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 66.
#B.# ‘The Rantin Laddie,’ Skene MS., p. 55.
#C.# ‘The Rantin Laddie,’ Laing’s Thistle of Scotland, p. 7.
#D.# ‘Bonnie Rantin Laddie,’ Murison MS., p. 74.
‘Lord Aboyne,’ in Smith’s Scotish Minstrel, IV, 6, is mostly #A a#; a few verses are from #A b.#
A young woman (Maggie in #B#) has played cards and dice with a rantin laddie till she has won a bastard baby. Slighted now by all her friends, she sends a letter to the rantin laddie, who is the Earl of Aboyne, to inform him of her uncomfortable circumstances. The Earl of Aboyne, struck with pity and indignation, sets out at once with five hundred men, #A#, #C#, or a select company of gentlemen and ladies, #B#, #D#, and brings her home as his wife.
#C# 24 is perhaps derived from ‘Geordie,’ but may be regarded as a commonplace.
* * * * *
A
#a.# Johnson’s Musical Museum, No 462, p. 474, communicated by Robert Burns; 1797. #b.# Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 66, 1828.
1 ‘Aften hae I playd at the cards and the dice, For the love of a bonie rantin laddie, But now I maun sit in my father’s kitchen-neuk And balow a bastard babie.
2 ‘For my father he will not me own, And my mother she neglects me, And a’ my friends hae lightlyed me, And their servants they do slight me.
3 ‘But had I a servant at my command, As aft times I’ve had many, That wad rin wi a letter to bonie Glenswood, Wi a letter to my rantin laddie!’
4 ‘O is he either a laird or a lord, Or is he but a cadie, That ye do him ca sae aften by name Your bonie, bonie rantin laddie?’
5 ‘Indeed he is baith a laird and a lord, And he never was a cadie, But he is the Earl o bonie Aboyne, And he is my rantin laddie.’
6 ‘O ye’se get a servant at your command, As aft times ye’ve had many, That sall rin wi a letter to bonie Glenswood, A letter to your rantin laddie.’
7 When Lord Aboyne did the letter get, O but he blinket bonie! But or he had read three lines of it I think his heart was sorry.
8 ‘O wha is [this] daur be sae bauld Sae cruelly to use my lassie ? . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
9 ‘For her father he will not her know, And her mother she does slight her, And a’ her friends hae lightlied her, And their servants they neglect her.
10 ‘Go raise to me my five hundred men, Make haste and make them ready, With a milk-white steed under every ane, For to bring hame my lady.’
11 As they cam in thro Buchanshire, They were a company bonie, With a gude claymor in every hand, And O but they shin’d bonie!
* * * * *
B
Skene MS., p. 55; taken down in the North of Scotland, 1802–3.
1 ‘Oft have I playd at the cards an the dyce, The war so very enticin; But this is a sad an a sorrowfu seat, To see my apron risin.
2 ‘Oft hae I playd at the cards an the dice For love of my [rantin] laddie; But now I man sit in my father’s kitchie-nouk, A rokkin o my baby.
3 ‘But gin I had ane o my father’s servans, For he has so mony, That wad gae to the wood o Glentanner, Wi a letter to the rantin laddie!’
4 ‘Here am I, ane o your father’s servans, For he has sae mony, That will gae to the wood o Glentanner, Wi a letter to the rantin laddie.’
5 ‘Fan ye gae to Aboyne, To the woods o Glentanner sae bonny, Wi your hat in your hand gie a bow to the ground, In the presence o the rantin laddie.’
6 Fan he gaed to Aboyne, To the woods o Glentanner sae bonny, Wi his hat in his hand he gied a bow to the ground, In the presence of the rantin laddie.
7 Fan he looked the letter on Sae loud as he was laughin! But or he read it to an end The tears they cam down rappin.
8 ‘O fa is this or fa is that Has been so ill to my Maggie ? . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
9 ‘But ye gett four-and-twenty milk white steeds, Wi an car . . . . . An as mony gay ladies to ride them on, To gae an bring hame my Maggie.
10 ‘Ye get four-an-twenty bonny brown steeds, Wi an car o an ome, An as mony knights to ride them on, To gae an bring hame my Maggie.’
11 Ye lasses a’, far ever ye be, An ye match wi ony o our Deeside laddies, Ye’ll happy be, ye’l happy be, For they are frank an kind.
* * * * *
C
Laing’s Thistle of Scotland, p. 7, 1823.
1 ‘Aft hae I playd at cards and dice For the love o a bonny rantin laddie, But now I maun sit i my father’s kitchen-nook, And sing, Hush, balow, my baby.
2 ‘If I had been wise, and had taen advice, And dane as my bonny love bade me, I would hae been married at Martinmass, And been wi my rantin laddie.
3 ‘But I was na wise, I took nae advice, Did not as my bonny love bade me, And now I maun sit by mysel i the nook, And rock my bastard baby.
4 ‘If I had horse at my command, As often I had many, I would ride on to the Castle o Aboyne, Wi a letter to my rantin laddie.’
5 Down the stair her father came, And lookëd proud and saucy: ‘Who is the man, and what is his name, That ye ca your rantin laddie?
6 ‘Is he a lord, or is he a laird? Or is he but a caddie? Or is it the young Earl o Aboyne That ye ca your rantin laddie?’
7 ‘He is a young and noble lord, He never was a caddie; It is the noble Earl o Aboyne That I ca my rantin laddie.’
8 ‘Ye shall hae a horse at your command, As ye had often many, To go to the Castle o Aboyne, Wi a letter to your rantin laddie.
9 ‘Where will I get a little page, Where will I get a caddie, That will run quick to bonny Aboyne, Wi this letter to my rantin laddie?’
10 Then out spoke the young scullion-boy, Said, Here am I, a caddie; I will run on to bonny Aboyne, Wi the letter to your rantin laddie.
11 ‘Now when ye come to bonny Deeside, Where woods are green and bonny, There will ye see the Earl o Aboyne, Among the bushes mony.
12 ‘And when ye come to the lands o Aboyne, Where all around is bonny, Ye’ll take your hat into your hand, Gie this letter to my rantin laddie.’
13 When he came near the banks of Dee, The birks were blooming bonny, And there he saw the Earl o Aboyne, Among the bushes mony.
14 ‘Where are ye going, my bonny boy? Where are ye going, my caddie?’ ‘I am going to the Castle o Aboyne, Wi a letter to the rantin laddie.’
15 ‘See yonder is the castle then, My young and handsome caddie, And I myself am the Earl o Aboyne, Tho they ca me the rantin laddie.’
16 ‘O pardon, my lord, if I’ve done wrong; Forgive a simple caddie; O pardon, pardon, Earl o Aboyne, I said but what she bade me.’
17 ‘Ye have done no wrong, my bonny boy, Ye’ve done no wrong, my caddie;’ Wi hat in hand he bowed low, Gave the letter to the rantin laddie.
18 When young Aboyne looked the letter on, O but he blinkit bonny! But ere he read four lines on end The tears came trickling mony.
19 ‘My father will no pity shew, My mother still does slight me, And a’ my friends have turnd from me, And servants disrespect me.’
20 ‘Who are they dare be so bold To cruelly use my lassie? But I’ll take her to bonny Aboyne, Where oft she did caress me.
21 ‘Go raise to me five hundred men, Be quick and make them ready; Each on a steed, to haste their speed, To carry home my lady.’
22 As they rode on thro Buchanshire, The company were many, Wi a good claymore in every hand, That glancëd wondrous bonny.
23 When he came to her father’s gate, He called for his lady: ‘Come down, come down, my bonny maid, And speak wi your rantin laddie.’
24 When she was set on high horseback, Rowd in the Highland plaidie, The bird i the bush sang not so sweet As sung this bonny lady.
25 As they rode on thro Buchanshire, He cried, Each Lowland lassie, Lay your love on some lowland lown, And soon will he prove fause t’ ye.
26 ‘But take my advice, and make your choice Of some young Highland laddie, Wi bonnet and plaid, whose heart is staid, And he will not beguile ye.’
27 As they rode on thro Garioch land, He rode up in a fury, And cried, Fall back, each saucy dame, Let the Countess of Aboyne before ye.
* * * * *
D
Murison MS., p. 74; Aberdeenshire.
1 ‘Aft hae I played at the cards and the dice, It was a’ for the sake o my laddie, But noo I sit i my father’s kitchie-neuk, Singing ba to a bonnie bastard babbie.
2 ‘Whar will I get a bonnie boy sae kin As will carry a letter cannie, That will rin on to the gates o the Boyne, Gie the letter to my rantin laddie?’
3 ‘Here am I, a bonnie boy sae kin, As will carry a letter cannie, That will rin on to the gates o the Boyne, Gie the letter to your rantin laddie.’
4 ‘When ye come to the gates o the Boyne, An low doon on yon cassie, Ye’ll tak aff your hat an ye’ll mak a low bow, Gie the letter to my rantin laddie.’
5 ‘When ye come to the gates o the Boyne, Ye’ll see lords an nobles monie; But ye’ll ken him among them a’, He’s my bonnie, bonnie rantin laddie.’
6 ‘Is your bonnie love a laird or a lord, Or is he a cadie, That ye call him so very often by name Your bonnie rantin laddie?’
7 ‘My love’s neither a laird nor a lord, Nor is he a cadie, But he is yerl o a’ the Boyne, An he is my bonnie rantin laddie.’
8 When he read a line or two, He smilëd eer sae bonnie; But lang ere he cam to the end The tears cam trinklin monie.
9 ‘Whar will I find fifty noble lords, An as monie gay ladies,
* * * * * *
* * * * *
#A. a.#
1^4. below.
4^1. Oh.
8^{3,4}. The gap should be filled, says Stenhouse, Musical Museum, IV, 405, with these lines:
As to gar her sit in [her] father’s kitchen-neuk And balow a bastard babie.
#b.#
1, 2. ‘Aft hae I played at the ring and the ba, And lang was a rantin lassie, But now my father does me forsake, And my friends they all do neglect me.’
3^1. But gin I had servants.
3^2. As I hae had right mony.
3^3. For to send awa to Glentanner’s yetts.
4^1. O is your true-love a laird or lord.
4^2. he a Highland caddie.
4^3. That ye sae aften call him by name.
5^1. My true-love he’s baith laird and lord.
5^2. Do ye think I hae married a caddie?
5^3. O he is the noble earl o Aboyne.
5^4. he’s my bonnie rantin.
6^1. ye’se hae servants.
6^2. As ye hae had right mony.
6^3. For to send awa to Glentanner’s yetts.
6^4. Wi a.
7^1. Aboyne the letter got.
7^2. Wow but.
7^3. But ere three lines o it he read.
7^4. O but his.
8^{1,2}. His face it reddened like a flame, He grasped his sword sae massy.
8^3==8^1. O wha is this, etc.
8^4==8^2. Sae cruel to, etc.
9. Wanting.
10^1. Gae saddle to me five.
10^2. Gae saddle and.
10^4. For I’m gaing to.
11. And when they came to auld Fedderate He found her waiting ready, And he brought her to Castle Aboyne, And now she’s his ain dear lady.
#B.#
9^1. he gett.
10^1. He gat.
#D.#
There is an initial stanza which, it seems to me, cannot have belonged originally to this ballad:
‘My father he feet me far, far away, He feet me in Kirkcaldy; He feet me till an auld widow-wife, But she had a bonnie rantin laddie.’
241
THE BARON O LEYS
#A.# Skene MS., p. 20.
#B.# ‘Laird o Leys,’ Kinloch’s Ballad Book, p. 74.
#C.# ‘The Baron o Leys,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 144.
‘The Baron o Leys,’ in The New Deeside Guide by James Brown [==Joseph Robertson], Aberdeen [1832], p. 15, and The Deeside Guide, Aberdeen, 1889, p. 23, is #C#. #C# 4–11 seems to be an interpolation by a later hand.
“Part of this ballad,” says Buchan, II, 322, “by ballad-mongers has been confused with the ballad of ‘The Earl of Aboyne’ [No 240, #A b#], called in some instances ‘The Ranting Laddie.’” Laing, Thistle of Scotland, p. 11, appears to have confounded it with ‘The Earl of Aboyne’ proper. He gives this stanza:
‘Some ca me that and some ca me this, And The Baron o Leys they ca me, But when I am on bonny Deeside They ca me The Rantin Laddie.’
Herd’s MSS, I, 233, II, fol. 71, give the two following stanzas under the title ‘The Linkin Ladie:’
‘Wae’s me that eer I made your bed! Wae’s me that eer I saw ye! For now I’ve lost my maidenhead, And I ken na how they ca ye.’
‘My name is well kent in my ain country, They ca me The Linking Ladie; If ye had not been as willing as I, Shame fa them wad eer hae bade ye!’
‘The Linkin Ladie,’ judging from this fragment (as it may be supposed to be), was much of a fashion with the ballad which we are engaged with, and may have been an earlier form of it. Sir Walter Scott, who cites these verses from memory (Sharpe’s Ballad Book, ed. 1880, p. 162), says that the hero of them was a brother of the celebrated [Thomas] Boston, author of ‘The Fourfold State.’
‘The Baron o Leys’ relates, or purports to relate, to an escapade of one of the Burnetts of Leys, Kincardineshire, Alexander, #A#, #B#, George, #C#. A woman who is with child by him gives him his choice of marriage, death, or the payment of ten thousand crowns. He is a married man; his wife is ready to sell everything, to her silk gowns, to release her husband from his awkward position.
* * * * *
A
Skene MS., p. 20; taken down in the north of Scotland, 1802–3.
1 The Laird of Leys is on to Edinbrugh, To shaw a fit o his follie; He drest himsel in the crimson-brown, An he provd a rantin laddie.
2 Ben came a weel-faird lass, Says, Laddie, how do they ca ye? ‘They ca me this, an they ca me that, Ye wudna ken fat they ca me; But whan I’m at home on bonnie Deeside They ca me The Rantin Laddie.’
3 They sought her up, they sought her down, They sought her in the parlour; She coudna be got but whar she was, In the bed wi The Rantin Laddie.
4 ‘Tell me, tell me, Baron of Leys, Ye tell me how they ca ye! Your gentle blood moves in my side, An I dinna ken how they ca ye.’
5 ‘They ca me this, an they ca me that, Ye couldna ken how they ca me; But whan I’m at home on bonnie Deeside They ca me The Rantin Laddie.’
6 ‘Tell me, tell me, Baron of Leys, Ye tell me how they ca ye! Your gentle blood moves in my side, An I dinna ken how to ca ye.’
7 ‘Baron of Leys, it is my stile, Alexander Burnett they ca me; Whan I’m at hame on bonnie Deeside My name is The Rantin Laddie.’
8 ‘Gin your name be Alexander Burnett, Alas that ever I saw ye! For ye hae a wife and bairns at hame, An alas for lyin sae near ye!
9 ‘But I’se gar ye be headit or hangt, Or marry me the morn, Or else pay down ten thousand crowns For giein o me the scorn.’
10 ‘For my head, I canna want; I love my lady dearly; But some o my lands I maun lose in the case, Alas for lyin sae near ye!’
11 Word has gane to the Lady of Leys That the laird he had a bairn; The warst word she said to that was, ‘I wish I had it in my arms.
12 ‘For I will sell my jointure-lands— I am broken an I’m sorry— An I’ll sell a’, to my silk gowns, An get hame my rantin laddie.’
* * * * *
B
Kinloch’s Ballad Book, p. 74, 1827.
1 The Laird o Leys is to London gane; He was baith full and gawdie; For he shod his steed wi siller guid, And he’s playd the ranting laddie.
2 He hadna been in fair London A twalmonth and a quarter, Till he met wi a weel-faurd may, Wha wishd to know how they ca’d him.
3 ‘They ca me this, and they ca me that, And they’re easy how they’ve ca’d me; But whan I’m at hame on bonnie Deeside They ca me The Ranting Laddie.’
4 ‘Awa wi your jesting, sir,’ she said, ‘I trow you’re a ranting laddie; But something swells atween my sides, And I maun ken how they ca thee.’
5 ‘They ca me this, and they ca me that, And they’re easy how they ca me; The Baron o Leys my title is, And Sandy Burnet they ca me.’
6 ‘Tell down, tell down ten thousand crowns, Or ye maun marry me the morn; Or headit or hangit ye sall be, For ye sanna gie me the scorn.’
7 ‘My head’s the thing I canna weel want; My lady she loves me dearlie; Nor yet hae I means ye to maintain; Alas for the lying sae near thee!’
8 But word’s gane doun to the Lady o Leys That the Baron had got a babie: ‘The waurst o news!’ my lady she said, ‘I wish I had hame my laddie.
9 ‘But I’ll sell aff my jointure-house, Tho na mair I sud be a ladie; I’ll sell a’ to my silken goun, And bring hame my rantin laddie.’
10 So she is on to London gane, And she paid the money on the morn; She paid it doun and brought him hame, And gien them a’ the scorn.
* * * * *
C
Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 144.
1 The Baron o Leys to France is gane, The fashion and tongue to learn, But hadna been there a month or twa Till he gat a lady wi bairn.
2 But it fell ance upon a day The lady mournd fu sairlie; Says, Who’s the man has me betrayed? It gars me wonder and fairlie.
3 Then to the fields to him she went, Saying, Tell me what they ca thee; Or else I’ll mourn and rue the day, Crying, alas that ever I saw thee!
4 ‘Some ca’s me this, some ca’s me that, I carena fat befa me; For when I’m at the schools o France An awkward fellow they ca me.’
5 ‘Wae’s me now, ye awkward fellow, And alas that ever I saw thee! Wi you I’m in love, sick, sick in love, And I kenna well fat they ca thee.’
6 ‘Some ca’s me this, some ca’s me that, What name does best befa me; For when I walk in Edinburgh streets The Curling Buckle they ca me.’
7 ‘O wae’s me now, O Curling Buckle, And alas that ever I saw thee! For I’m in love, sick, sick in love, And I kenna well fat they ca thee.’
8 ‘Some ca’s me this, some ca’s me that, Whatever name best befa’s me; But when I’m in Scotland’s king’s high court Clatter the Speens they ca me.’
9 ‘O wae’s me now, O Clatter the Speens, And alas that ever I saw thee! For I’m in love, sick, sick in love, And I kenna well fat to ca thee.’
10 ‘Some ca’s me this, some ca’s me that, I carena what they ca me; But when wi the Earl o Murray I ride It’s Scour the Brass they ca me.’
11 ‘O wae’s me now, O Scour the Brass, And alas that ever I saw thee! For I’m in love, sick, sick in love, And I kenna well fat to ca thee.’
12 ‘Some ca’s me this, some ca’s me that, Whatever name best befa’s me; But when I walk thro Saint Johnstone’s town George Burnett they ca me.’
13 ‘O wae’s me, O wae’s me, George Burnett, And alas that ever I saw thee! For I’m in love, sick, sick in love, And I kenna well fat to ca thee.’
14 ‘Some ca’s me this, some ca’s me that, Whatever name best befa’s me; But when I am on bonny Dee side The Baron o Leys they ca me.’
15 ‘O weal is me now, O Baron o Leys, This day that ever I saw thee! There’s gentle blood within my sides, And now [I] ken fat they ca thee.
16 ‘But ye’ll pay down ten thousand crowns, Or marry me the morn; Else I’ll cause you be headed or hangd For gieing me the scorn.’
17 ‘My head is a thing I cannot well want; My lady loves me sae dearly; But I’ll deal the gold right liberally For lying ae night sae near thee.’
18 When word had gane to the Lady o Leys The baron had gotten a bairn, She clapped her hands, and this did say, ‘I wish he were in my arms!
19 ‘O weal is me now, O Baron o Leys, For ye hae pleased me sairly; Frae our house is banishd the vile reproach That disturbed us late and early.’
20 When she looked ower her castle-wa, To view the woods sae rarely, There she spied the Baron o Leys Ride on his steed sae rarely.
21 Then forth she went her baron to meet, Says, Ye’re welcome to me, fairly! Ye’se hae spice-cakes, and seed-cakes sweet, And claret to drink sae rarely.
* * * * *
#C.#
19^{3,4}. Frae her house she banishd the vile reproach That disturbs us. The Deeside Guide has nearly the reading here substituted, and some correction is necessary. The reference seems to be to childlessness. In #A# 8 the baron is said to have bairns.
242
THE COBLE O CARGILL
‘The Coble o Cargill,’ Motherwell’s MS., p. 80; ‘The Weary Coble o Cargill,’ Motherwell’s Minstrelsy, p. 230. Communicated to Motherwell by William George, tenant in Cambus Michael, Perthshire, who took it from the recitation of an old woman.
Stobhall is on the left bank of the Tay, eight miles above Perth, in Cargill parish, and Cargill is a little further up. Balathy is opposite Cargill, and Kercock is higher up the river on the right bank. The local tradition, as given by Motherwell in his manuscript and his book, is that the butler of Stobhall had a leman both at Kercock and at Balathy. Upon an occasion when the butler had gone to Kercock, the lass of Balathy scuttled the coble, which he had left below, “and waited his return, deeming that her suspicions of his infidelity would be well founded if he took the boat without visiting her in passing.” The butler took the boat without stopping at Balathy, and in her sight the weary coble sank. Local tradition in such cases seldom means more than a theory which people have formed to explain a preëxisting ballad. The jealousy of the lass of Balathy has, in the ballad, passed the point at which confirmation would be waited for. She has many a time watched late for her chance to bore the coble, and she bores it ‘wi gude will.’
St. 14 is a commonplace which has been already several times noted.
The Rev. William Marshall’s Historic Scenes in Perthshire, Edinburgh, 1879, p. 246, gives us a “modern” version of this ballad; that is, one written over in magazine style. This is repeated in Robert Ford’s Auld Scots Ballants, 1889, p. 152. The Perthshire Antiquarian Miscellany, by Robert S. Fittis, Perth, 1875, p. 466, cites some stanzas from another ballad, composed by one James Beattie, journeyman-mason, but represented as having been taken down verbatim from the mouth of an old man. In these pieces the lass of Balathy has the name Jean, Jeanie Low (Low or Gow, according to Ford, p. 149).[142]
* * * * *
1 David Drummond’s destinie, Gude man o appearance o Cargill; I wat his blude rins in the flude, Sae sair against his parents’ will.
2 She was the lass o Balathy toun, And he the butler o Stobhall, And mony a time she wauked late To bore the coble o Cargill.
3 His bed was made in Kercock ha, Of gude clean sheets and of [the] hay; He wudna rest ae nicht therein, But on the prude waters he wud gae.
4 His bed was made in Balathy toun, Of the clean sheets and of the strae; But I wat it was far better made Into the bottom o bonnie Tay.
5 She bored the coble in seven pairts, I wat her heart might hae been fu sair; For there she got the bonnie lad lost Wi the curly locks and the yellow hair.
6 He put his foot into the boat, He little thocht o ony ill; But before that he was mid-waters, The weary coble began to fill.
7 ‘Woe be to the lass o Balathy toun, I wat an ill death may she die! For she bored the coble in seven pairts, And let the waters perish me.
8 ‘Oh, help, oh help, I can get nane, Nae help o man can to me come!’ This was about his dying words, When he was choaked up to the chin.
9 ‘Gae tell my father and my mother It was naebody did me this ill; I was a-going my ain errands, Lost at the coble o bonnie Cargill.’
10 She bored the boat in seven pairts, I wat she bored it wi gude will; And there they got the bonnie lad’s corpse, In the kirk-shot o bonnie Cargill.
11 Oh a’ the keys o bonnie Stobha I wat they at his belt did hing; But a’ the keys of bonnie Stobha They now ly low into the stream.
12 A braver page into his age Neer set a foot upon the plain; His father to his mother said, ‘Oh, sae soon as we’ve wanted him!
13 ‘I wat they had mair luve than this When they were young and at the scule; But for his sake she wauked late, And bored the coble o bonnie Cargill.’
14 ‘There’s neer a clean sark gae on my back, Nor yet a kame gae in my hair; There’s neither coal nor candle-licht Shall shine in my bouir for evir mair.
15 ‘At kirk nor market I’se neer be at, Nor yet a blythe blink in my ee; There’s neer a ane shall say to anither, That’s the lassie gard the young man die.
16 ‘Between the yates o bonnie Stobha And the kirk-style o bonnie Cargill, There is mony a man and mother’s son That was at my love’s burial.’
* * * * *
14^2. Not yet.
243
JAMES HARRIS (THE DÆMON LOVER)
#A.# A Warning for Married Women, being an example of Mrs Jane Reynolds (a West-country woman), born near Plymouth, who, having plighted her troth to a Seaman, was afterwards married to a Carpenter, and at last carried away by a Spirit, the manner how shall presently be recited. To a West-country tune called ‘The Fair Maid of Bristol,’ ‘Bateman,’ or ‘John True.’ Pepys Ballads, IV, 101.
#B.# ‘The Distressed Ship-Carpenter,’ The Rambler’s Garland, 1785 (?), British Museum, 11621, c. 4 (57).
#C.# ‘James Herries,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 214.
#D.# ‘The Carpenter’s Wife,’ Kinloch MSS, I, 297.
#E.# ‘The Dæmon Lover,’ Motherwell’s MS., p. 97.
#F.# ‘The Dæmon Lover,’ Scott’s Minstrelsy, II, 427, 1812.
#G.# ‘The Dæmon Lover,’ Motherwell’s Minstrelsy, p. 93.
#H.# ‘The Banks of Italy,’ Christie, Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 138, two stanzas.
The Pepys copy was printed for Thackeray and Passenger. Others are: Crawford, No 1114, Printed for A. M[ilbourne], W. O[nley], and T. Thackeray; Ewing, 377, for Coles, Vere, and Gilbertson; the same, 378, by and for W. O[nley]. No 71 in Thackeray’s List, printed 1685. A later copy in the Douce ballads, II, fol. 249 b, Bodleian Library, printed by Thomas Norris at the Looking-Glass on London Bridge. Another, without publisher’s name, in the Roxburghe collection, I, 502; Ballad Society, III, 200.
‘The Dæmon Lover’ was first published in Scott’s Minstrelsy, 5th edition, 1812 (#F#). William Laidlaw, who furnished the copy, inserted four stanzas of his own (6, 12, 17, 18, here omitted).[143] Motherwell, in 1827, had not been able to get more than nine stanzas (#G#), but afterwards secured a version of twice as many (#E#). Kinloch says of #D#, “My reciter, and others to whom I applied, assured me that they had never heard any more of it than what is given here.” Buchan, I, 313, referring to Motherwell’s fragment (#G#), is “happy to say ... there is still a perfect copy of this curious and scarce legend in existence, which is now for the first time given to the public” (#C#).@
An Americanized version of this ballad was printed not very long ago at Philadelphia, under the title of ‘The House-Carpenter.’ I have been able to secure only two stanzas, which were cited in Graham’s Illustrated Magazine, September, 1858:
‘I might have married the king’s daughter dear;’ ‘You might have married her,’ cried she, ‘For I am married to a house-carpenter, And a fine young man is he.’
‘Oh dry up your tears, my own true love, And cease your weeping,’ cried he, ‘For soon you’ll see your own happy home, On the banks of old Tennessee.’
#B-H# have for their basis the broadside #A#; the substance of the story is repeated, with traditional modifications. Two or three stanzas of #A# are of the popular description, but it does not seem necessary to posit a tradition behind #A#. The correspondences of the several versions are as follows:
#A# 18^{1,2}, #C# 2. #A# 18^{3,4}, 19, #B# 1, #D# 1, #E# 1, 2^{1,2}, #F# 1. #A# 20, #C# 3, #D# 2, #E# 2^{3,4}, #F# 2. #A# 21, #B# 4^{1,2}, 3^{3,4}, #C# 6^1, 12^{3,4}, #D# 3. #A# 22, #B# 2, #C# 4^{3,4}, 5^{1,2}, #E# 3, #F# 4. #A# 23, #C# 7. #A# 24, #B# 5, #C# 8, #E# 5^{1,2}, #F# 6. #A# 25, #B# 6, #C# 9, #F# 7, #G# 1. #A# 26, #B# 8, #C# 10, #F# 9^{3,4}. #A# 28, #B# 11. #A# 30, #B# 12.
#B# 3^{1,2}, #E# 4^{1,2}, #F# 5^{1,2}. #B# 7, C 13, #E# 6^4, #G# 2, #H# 1. #B# 9,10, #C# 14,17, #D# 5, #E# 12, 13, #G# 5. #B# 12, #C# 23. #B# 13, #C# 24.
#C# 3, #D# 2, #E# 2, #F# 2. #C# 11, #E# 7, #F# 8, #H# 2. #C# 16, #D# 6, #E# 16, #F# 12, #G# 6. #C# 21, #D# 8.
#D# 1, #E# 1, #F# 1. #D# 7, #E# 10, #F# 10, #G# 8.
#E# 11, #F# 11, #G# 7. #E# 14, #F# 13. #E# 15, #F# 14. #E# 18, #F# 15.
#F# 9^2, #G# 4^{3,4}.
It will be observed that each of the versions #B-F# adds something which is taken up by a successor or successors. The arrangement of #E# and #F#, of #E# especially, is objectionable.
#A.# Jane Reynolds and James Harris, a seaman, had exchanged vows of marriage. The young man was pressed as a sailor, and after three years was reported as dead; the young woman married a ship-carpenter, and they lived together happily for four years, and had children. One night when the carpenter was absent from home, a spirit rapped at the window and announced himself as James Harris, come after an absence of seven years[144] to claim the woman for his wife. She explained the state of things, but upon obtaining assurance that her long-lost lover had the means to support her—seven ships upon the sea—consented to go with him, for he was really much like unto a man. ‘The woman-kind’ was seen no more after that; the carpenter hanged himself.
The carpenter is preserved in #B-E#, and even his name in #C#. He swoons in #B#, and runs distracted in #C#, when he learns what has become of his wife; the other versions take no notice of him after the elopement. #B-F# all begin with the return of the long-absent lover. The ship (as it is to have in #A# 26) has silken sails and gold masts, or the like, #C# 10, #F# 9^{3,4} (cf. #B# 8, #G# 1); but there are no visible mariners, #F# 9^{1,2}, #G# 4^{3,4}. The pair have been only a short time afloat when the woman begins to weep for son, husband, or both, #B# 9, 10, #C# 14, #D# 5, #E# 12, 13, #G# 5. The seaman (as it will be convenient to call him) tells her to hold her tongue, he will show her how the lilies grow on the banks of Italy, #C# 16, #D# 6 (cf. #E# 16, 17), #F# 12, and, in a different connection, #G# 6. The seaman’s countenance grows grim, and the sea gurly, #D# 7, #E# 10, #F# 10, #G# 8. He will let her see the fishes swim, where the lilies grow, in the bottom of the sea, #C# 21, #D# 8 (cf. #E# 16, 17). She discerns that the seaman has a cloven foot, #E# 11, #F# 11, #G# 7. She asks, What is yon bright hill? It is the hill of heaven, where she will never be. What is yon dark hill? It is the hill of hell, where they two shall be: #E# 14, 15, #F# 13, 14. The seaman reaches his hand to the topmast, strikes the sails, and the ship drowns, C 22; takes the woman up to the topmast and sinks the ship in a flash of fire, #E# 18; strikes the topmast with his hand, the fore-mast with his knee, and sinks the ship, #F# 15. In #E# 9 he throws the woman into the main, and five-and-twenty hundred ships are wrecked; in #G# 9 the little ship runs round about and never is seen more.
In A the revenant is characterized as a spirit; in #B#, which is even tamer than #A#, he is called the mariner, and is drowned with the woman; in #C# he expressly says to the woman, I brought you away to punish you for breaking your vows to me. This explicitness may be prosaic, but it seems to me regrettable that the conception was not maintained. To explain the eery personality and proceedings of the ship-master, #E-G#, with a sort of vulgar rationalism, turn him into the devil, and as he is still represented in #E#, #F# (#G# being defective at the beginning) as returning to seek the fulfilment of old vows, he there figures as a “dæmon lover.” #D# (probably by the fortunate accident of being a fragment) leaves us to put our own construction upon the weird seaman; and, though it retains the homely ship-carpenter, is on the whole the most satisfactory of all the versions.[145]
Scott’s ballad is translated by Talvj, Versuch, etc., p. 558; by Gerhard, p. 84; and by Rosa Warrens, Schottische Volkslieder, No 14, p. 61 (after Aytoun, who repeats Scott, omitting one of Laidlaw’s stanzas). Knortz, Lieder und Romanzen Alt-Englands, p. 192, translates Allingham’s ballad.
* * * * *
A
Pepys Ballads, IV, 101; from a copy in Percy’s papers.
1 There dwelt a fair maid in the West, Of worthy birth and fame, Neer unto Plimouth, stately town, Jane Reynolds was her name.
2 This damsel dearly was belovd By many a proper youth, And what of her is to be said Is known for very truth.
3 Among the rest a seaman brave Unto her a wooing came; A comely proper youth he was, James Harris calld by name.
4 The maid and young man was agreed, As time did them allow, And to each other secretly They made a solemn vow,
5 That they would ever faithfull be Whilst Heaven afforded life; He was to be her husband kind, And she his faithfull wife.
6 A day appointed was also When they was to be married; But before these things were brought to pass Matters were strangely carried.
7 All you that faithfull lovers be Give ear and hearken well, And what of them became at last I will directly tell.
8 The young man he was prest to sea, And forcëd was to go; His sweet-heart she must stay behind, Whether she would or no.
9 And after he was from her gone She three years for him staid, Expecting of his comeing home, And kept herself a maid.
10 At last news came that he was dead Within a forraign land, And how that he was buried She well did understand,
11 For whose sweet sake the maiden she Lamented many a day, And never was she known at all The wanton for to play.
12 A carpenter that livd hard by, When he heard of the same, Like as the other had done before, To her a wooing came.
13 But when that he had gained her love They married were with speed, And four years space, being man and wife, They loveingly agreed.
14 Three pritty children in this time This loving couple had, Which made their father’s heart rejoyce, And mother wondrous glad.
15 But as occasion servd, one time The good man took his way Some three days journey from his home, Intending not to stay.
16 But, whilst that he was gone away, A spirit in the night Came to the window of his wife, And did her sorely fright.
17 Which spirit spake like to a man, And unto her did say, ‘My dear and onely love,’ quoth he, ‘Prepare and come away.
18 ‘James Harris is my name,’ quoth he, ‘Whom thou didst love so dear, And I have traveld for thy sake At least this seven year.
19 ‘And now I am returnd again, To take thee to my wife, And thou with me shalt go to sea, To end all further strife.’
20 ‘O tempt me not, sweet James,’ quoth she, ‘With thee away to go; If I should leave my children small, Alas! what would they do?
21 ‘My husband is a carpenter, A carpenter of great fame; I would not for five hundred pounds That he should know the same.’
22 ‘I might have had a king’s daughter, And she would have married me; But I forsook her golden crown, And for the love of thee.
23 ‘Therefore, if thou’lt thy husband forsake, And thy children three also, I will forgive the[e] what is past, If thou wilt with me go.’
24 ‘If I forsake my husband and My little children three, What means hast thou to bring me to, If I should go with thee?’
25 ‘I have seven ships upon the sea; When they are come to land, Both marriners and marchandize Shall be at thy command.
26 ‘The ship wherein my love shall sail Is glorious to behold; The sails shall be of finest silk, And the mast of shining gold.’
27 When he had told her these fair tales, To love him she began, Because he was in human shape, Much like unto a man.
28 And so together away they went From off the English shore, And since that time the woman-kind Was never seen no more.
29 But when her husband he come home And found his wife was gone, And left her three sweet pretty babes Within the house alone,
30 He beat his breast, he tore his hair, The tears fell from his eyes, And in the open streets he run With heavy doleful cries.
31 And in this sad distracted case He hangd himself for woe Upon a tree near to the place; The truth of all is so.
32 The children now are fatherless, And left without a guide, But yet no doubt the heavenly powers Will for them well provide.
* * * * *
B
The Rambler’s Garland, British Museum, 11621, c. 4 (57). 1785 (?)
1 ‘Well met, well met, my own true love, Long time I have been seeking thee; I am lately come from the salt sea, And all for the sake, love, of thee.
2 ‘I might have had a king’s daughter, And fain she would have married me; But I’ve forsaken all her crowns of gold, And all for the sake, love, of thee.’
3 ‘If you might have had a king’s daughter, I think you much to blame; I would not for five hundred pounds That my husband should hear the same.
4 ‘For my husband is a carpenter, And a young ship-carpenter is he, And by him I have a little son, Or else, love, I’d go along with thee.
5 ‘But if I should leave my husband dear, Likewise my little son also, What have you to maintain me withal, If I along with you should go?’
6 ‘I have seven ships upon the seas, And one of them brought me to land, And seventeen mariners to wait on thee, For to be, love, at your command.
7 ‘A pair of slippers thou shalt have, They shall be made of beaten gold, Nay and be lin’d with velvet soft, For to keep thy feet from cold.
8 ‘A gilded boat thou then shall have, The oars shall gilded be also, And mariners to row the[e] along, For to keep thee from thy overthrow.’
9 They had not been long upon the sea Before that she began to weep: ‘What, weep you for my gold?’ he said, ‘Or do you weep for my fee?
10 ‘Or do you weep for some other young man That you love much better than me?’ ‘No, I do weep for my little son, That should have come along with me.’
11 She had not been upon the seas Passing days three or four But the mariner and she were drowned, And never were heard of more.
12 When tidings to old England came The ship-carpenter’s wife was drownd, He wrung his hands and tore his hair, And grievously fell in a swoon.
13 ‘Oh cursed be those mariners! For they do lead a wicked life; They ruind me, a ship-carpenter, By deluding away my wife.’
* * * * *
C
Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 214.
1 ‘O are ye my father? Or are ye my mother? Or are ye my brother John? Or are ye James Herries, my first true-love, Come back to Scotland again?’
2 ‘I am not your father, I am not your mother, Nor am I your brother John; But I’m James Herries, your first true-love, Come back to Scotland again.’
3 ‘Awa, awa, ye former lovers, Had far awa frae me! For now I am another man’s wife Ye’ll neer see joy o me.’
4 ‘Had I kent that ere I came here, I neer had come to thee; For I might hae married the king’s daughter, Sae fain she woud had me.
5 ‘I despised the crown o gold, The yellow silk also, And I am come to my true-love, But with me she’ll not go.’
6 ‘My husband he is a carpenter, Makes his bread on dry land, And I hae born him a young son; Wi you I will not gang.’
7 ‘You must forsake your dear husband, Your little young son also, Wi me to sail the raging seas, Where the stormy winds do blow.’
8 ‘O what hae you to keep me wi, If I should with you go, If I’d forsake my dear husband, My little young son also?’
9 ‘See ye not yon seven pretty ships? The eighth brought me to land, With merchandize and mariners, And wealth in every hand.’
10 She turnd her round upon the shore Her love’s ships to behold; Their topmasts and their mainyards Were coverd oer wi gold.
11 Then she’s gane to her little young son, And kissd him cheek and chin; Sae has she to her sleeping husband, And dune the same to him.
12 ‘O sleep ye, wake ye, my husband? I wish ye wake in time! I woudna for ten thousand pounds This night ye knew my mind.’
13 She’s drawn the slippers on her feet, Were coverd oer wi gold, Well lined within wi velvet fine, To had her frae the cold.
14 She hadna sailed upon the sea A league but barely three Till she minded on her dear husband, Her little young son tee.
15 ‘O gin I were at land again, At land where I woud be, The woman neer shoud bear the son Shoud gar me sail the sea.’
16 ‘O hold your tongue, my sprightly flower, Let a’ your mourning be; I’ll show you how the lilies grow On the banks o Italy.’
17 She hadna sailed on the sea A day but barely ane Till the thoughts o grief came in her mind, And she langd for to be hame.
18 ‘O gentle death, come cut my breath, I may be dead ere morn! I may be buried in Scottish ground, Where I was bred and born!’
19 ‘O hold your tongue, my lily leesome thing, Let a’ your mourning be; But for a while we’ll stay at Rose Isle, Then see a far countrie.
20 ‘Ye’se neer be buried in Scottish ground, Nor land ye’s nae mair see; I brought you away to punish you For the breaking your vows to me.
21 ‘I said ye shoud see the lilies grow On the banks o Italy; But I’ll let you see the fishes swim, In the bottom o the sea.’
22 He reached his hand to the topmast, Made a’ the sails gae down, And in the twinkling o an ee Baith ship and crew did drown.
23 The fatal flight o this wretched maid Did reach her ain countrie; Her husband then distracted ran, And this lament made he:
24 ‘O wae be to the ship, the ship, And wae be to the sea, And wae be to the mariners Took Jeanie Douglas frae me!
25 ‘O bonny, bonny was my love, A pleasure to behold; The very hair o my love’s head Was like the threads o gold.
26 ‘O bonny was her cheek, her cheek, And bonny was her chin, And bonny was the bride she was, The day she was made mine!’
* * * * *
D
Kinloch MSS, I, 297; from the recitation of T. Kinnear, Stonehaven.
1 ‘O whare hae ye been, my dearest dear, These seven lang years and more?’ ‘O I am come to seek my former vows, That ye promisd me before.’
2 ‘Awa wi your former vows,’ she says, ‘Or else ye will breed strife; Awa wi your former vows,’ she says, ‘For I’m become a wife.
3 ‘I am married to a ship-carpenter, A ship-carpenter he’s bound; I wadna he kend my mind this nicht For twice five hundred pound.’
* * * * * *
4 She has put her foot on gude ship-board, And on ship-board she’s gane, And the veil that hung oure her face Was a’ wi gowd begane.
5 She had na sailed a league, a league, A league but barely twa, Till she did mind on the husband she left, And her wee young son alsua.
6 ‘O haud your tongue, my dearest dear, Let all your follies abee; I’ll show whare the white lillies grow, On the banks of Italie.’
7 She had na sailed a league, a league, A league but barely three, Till grim, grim grew his countenance, And gurly grew the sea.
8 ‘O haud your tongue, my dearest dear, Let all your follies abee; I’ll show whare the white lillies grow, In the bottom of the sea.’
9 He’s tane her by the milk-white hand, And he’s thrown her in the main; And full five-and-twenty hundred ships Perishd all on the coast of Spain.
* * * * *
E
Motherwell’s MS., p. 97.
1 ‘Where have you been, my long lost lover, This seven long years and more?’ ‘I’ve been seeking gold for thee, my love, And riches of great store.
2 ‘Now I’m come for the vows you promised me, You promised me long ago;’ ‘My former vows you must forgive, For I’m a wedded wife.’
3 ‘I might have been married to a king’s daughter, Far, far ayont the sea; But I refused the crown of gold, And it’s all for the love of thee.’
4 ‘If you might have married a king’s daughter, Yourself you have to blame; For I’m married to a ship’s-carpenter, And to him I have a son.
5 ‘Have you any place to put me in, If I with you should gang?’ ‘I’ve seven brave ships upon the sea, All laden to the brim.
6 ‘I’ll build my love a bridge of steel, All for to help her oer; Likewise webs of silk down by her side, To keep my love from the cold.’
7 She took her eldest son into her arms, And sweetly did him kiss: ‘My blessing go with you, and your father too, For little does he know of this.’
8 As they were walking up the street, Most beautiful for to behold, He cast a glamour oer her face, And it shone like the brightest gold.
9 As they were walking along the sea-side, Where his gallant ship lay in, So ready was the chair of gold To welcome this lady in.
10 They had not sailed a league, a league, A league but scarsely three, Till altered grew his countenance, And raging grew the sea.
11 When they came to yon sea-side, She set her down to rest; It’s then she spied his cloven foot, Most bitterly she wept.
12 ‘O is it for gold that you do weep? Or is it for fear? Or is it for the man you left behind When that you did come here?’
13 ‘It is not for gold that I do weep, O no, nor yet for fear; But it is for the man I left behind When that I did come here.
14 ‘O what a bright, bright hill is yon, That shines so clear to see?’ ‘O it is the hill of heaven,’ he said, ‘Where you shall never be.’
15 ‘O what a black, dark hill is yon, That looks so dark to me?’ ‘O it is the hill of hell,’ he said, ‘Where you and I shall be.
16 ‘Would you wish to see the fishes swim In the bottom of the sea, Or wish to see the leaves grow green On the banks of Italy?’
17 ‘I hope I’ll never see the fishes swim On the bottom of the sea, But I hope to see the leaves grow green On the banks of Italy.’
18 He took her up to the topmast high, To see what she could see; He sunk the ship in a flash of fire, To the bottom of the sea.
* * * * *
F
Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, fifth edition, 1812, II, 427; taken down from the recitation of Walter Grieve by William Laidlaw.
1 ‘O where have you been, my long, long love, This long seven years and mair?’ ‘O I’m come to seek my former vows Ye granted me before.’
2 ‘O hold your tongue of your former vows, For they will breed sad strife; O hold your tongue of your former vows, For I am become a wife.’
3 He turned him right and round about, And the tear blinded his ee: ‘I wad never hae trodden on Irish ground, If it had not been for thee.
4 ‘I might hae had a king’s daughter, Far, far beyond the sea; I might have had a king’s daughter, Had it not been for love o thee.’
5 ‘If ye might have had a king’s daughter, Yer sel ye had to blame; Ye might have taken the king’s daughter, For ye kend that I was nane.
6 ‘If I was to leave my husband dear, And my two babes also, O what have you to take me to, If with you I should go?’
7 ‘I hae seven ships upon the sea— The eighth brought me to land— With four-and-twenty bold mariners, And music on every hand.’
8 She has taken up her two little babes, Kissd them baith cheek and chin: ‘O fair ye weel, my ain two babes, For I’ll never see you again.’
9 She set her foot upon the ship, No mariners could she behold; But the sails were o the taffetie, And the masts o the beaten gold.
10 She had not sailed a league, a league, A league but barely three, When dismal grew his countenance, And drumlie grew his ee.
11 They had not sailed a league, a league, A league but barely three, Until she espied his cloven foot, And she wept right bitterlie.
12 ‘O hold your tongue of your weeping,’ says he, ‘Of your weeping now let me be; I will shew you how the lilies grow On the banks of Italy.’
13 ‘O what hills are yon, yon pleasant hills, That the sun shines sweetly on?’ ‘O yon are the hills of heaven,’ he said, ‘Where you will never win.’
14 ‘O whaten a mountain is yon,’ she said, ‘All so dreary wi frost and snow?’ ‘O yon is the mountain of hell,’ he cried, ‘Where you and I will go.’
15 He strack the tap-mast wi his hand, The fore-mast wi his knee, And he brake that gallant ship in twain, And sank her in the sea.
* * * * *
G
Motherwell’s Minstrelsy, p. 93.
1 ‘I have seven ships upon the sea, Laden with the finest gold, And mariners to wait us upon; All these you may behold.
2 ‘And I have shoes for my love’s feet, Beaten of the purest gold, And lined wi the velvet soft, To keep my love’s feet from the cold.
3 ‘O how do you love the ship?’ he said, ‘Or how do you love the sea? And how do you love the bold mariners That wait upon thee and me?’
4 ‘O I do love the ship,’ she said, ‘And I do love the sea; But woe be to the dim mariners, That nowhere I can see!’
5 They had not sailed a mile awa, Never a mile but one, When she began to weep and mourn, And to think on her little wee son.
6 ‘O hold your tongue, my dear,’ he said, ‘And let all your weeping abee, For I’ll soon show to you how the lilies grow On the banks of Italy.’
7 They had not sailed a mile awa, Never a mile but two, Until she espied his cloven foot, From his gay robes sticking thro.
8 They had not sailed a mile awa, Never a mile but three, When dark, dark, grew his eerie looks, And raging grew the sea.
9 They had not sailed a mile awa, Never a mile but four, When the little wee ship ran round about, And never was seen more.
* * * * *
H
Christie, Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 138; taken down by the editor’s father from the singing of an aged relative.
1 He’s given her a pair of shoes, To hold her frae the cold; The one side of them was velvaret, And the other beaten gold.
2 Up she has taen her little wee son, And given him kisses three; Says, Fare ye weel, my little wee son, I’m gaun to sail the sea.
* * * * *
#B.#
The Rambler’s Garland, composed of some Delightful New Songs. There are four: the third is The distressed Ship Carpenter. “1785?”
1^1. my my own.
#E.#
3^2. Originally, Had it not been for love of thee.
10^3. In the margin, Till grim, grim grew.
11^4. Och hone under the line.
14^1. Altered to, O whatena.
15^1. Altered to, O whatena dark. (The original readings are likely to have been the traditional ones.)
17^3. sea.
#F.#
In a letter to Scott, January 3, 1803, Laidlaw gives some account of the ballad sung by Walter Grieve, and cites some verses from recollection, which, not unnaturally, differ from what he afterwards took down in writing.
“He likewise sung part of a very beautiful ballad which I think you will not have seen. As a punishment for her inconstancy, the Devil is supposed to come and entice a young woman from her husband, in the form of her former lover. The tune is very solemn and melancholy, and the effect is mixed with a considerable proportion of horror. I remember but very few verses. He prevails upon her to go abroad [aboard?] to hear his musicians, after upbraiding her
‘I might hae marrit a king’s daughter, but I mindit my love for thee.’
“The description of her setting her child on the nurse’s knee and bidding him farewell is waesome, but I have forgot it.”
She set her foot into the ship, to hear the music play; The masts war o the beaten goud, and the sails o the silk sae gay.
They hadna saild a league thrae land, a league but barely three, Till drearie grew his countenance, and drumlie grew his ee.
They hadna saild another league, another league but three, Till she beheld his cloven fit, and she wept most bitterlie.
‘O had yer tongue, my love,’ he said, ‘why weep ye sae mournfulie? We’re gaun to see how the lillies do grow on the banks o fair Italie.’
‘What hills are yon, yon pleasant hills, where the sun shines [a wafer here] ‘O yon’s the hills of heaven,’ he said, ‘where you will never win!‘”
Letters addressed to Sir Walter Scott, Vol. I, No 78, Abbotsford.
244
JAMES HATLEY
#A. a.# “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 35, MS. of Thomas Wilkie, p. 6, Abbotsford. #b.# ‘James Hatley,’ Campbell MSS, II, 289. #c.# ‘James Hatelie,’ R. Chambers, The Romantic Scottish Ballads, their Epoch and Authorship, p. 37.
#B.# ‘James Hately,’ “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 39, MS. of Thomas Wilkie, p. 18. The same, transcribed by Thomas Wilkie, “Scotch Ballads,” etc., No 79, Abbotsford.
#C.# ‘Jamie O’Lee,’ Motherwell’s MS., p. 654.
#A.# ‘Sir Fenwick’ steals the king’s jewels and lays the blame on James Hatley, who is condemned to death. The king’s daughter steals the prison-keys from under her father’s head and pays a visit to Hatley, who assures her of his innocence, and tells her that Fenwick is the man. [#b#, the king is angry, and says that for stealing his jewels Hatley shall die ‘over the barriers:’ so #B#.] The princess goes to her father and begs the life of Hatley, and her boon is granted without demur. She asks one thing more, that Fenwick and Hatley may try their verity at the sword, and this is unhesitatingly conceded. Hatley is but fifteen years old (he is seventeen #b#, eighteen #c#, fifteen again #C#), and Fenwick is thirty-three; nevertheless, Fenwick gets three wounds. An English lord intermits: he would have given all his estates rather than Hatley should escape; a Scots lord replies that he would have fought to the knees in blood before Hatley should have been hanged. (The Scots lord is wanting in b; the passage is likely to be borrowed from ‘Geordie,’ No 209.) The king’s eldest son asks Hatley to dine, and makes him his captain by land and sea;[146] the king’s daughter invites him to dine, and announces that she has made a vow to marry no other man.
#B.# Hatley, accused of stealing the king’s jewels, goes to the little prince and asks what he will do for his page; the prince goes to his father and asks what he will do for the page. The king says that Hatley has stolen his jewels, so a Norland lord has informed him, and Hatley must die ‘over the barriers.’ The prince offers to fight any man who lays the blame on Hatley. Fenwick maintains that Hatley is the thief. The prince gives Fenwick two or three mortal wounds; Fenwick hands him the key of his coffer, and in the coffer the jewels will be found. The king invests Hatley with Fenwick’s lands.
#C.# A false knight, Phenix, steals the queen’s jewels, and leaves the blame on Jamie O’Lee. The king sends for his son and tells him that Jamie has been accused of the theft by an English lord, and shall be banished from Scotland. The prince demands a man to fight with Jamie on this charge, and false Phenix offers himself. The prince at first objects, for Jamie is but fifteen years old, whereas Phenix is of course thirty-three; however, he tells Jamie that he must fight or be banished from England (8, compare 14). Jamie protests his innocence. He fights with Phenix and receives the first wound, then runs Phenix through the body; Phenix owns his guilt. The king tells Jamie to come home with him; every knight in the court shall be at his command. The queen bids Jamie come home with her; he shall have a new livery every month. The prince invites Jamie to come home with him; all his lands in Scotland shall be at Jamie’s command. Jamie thanks king, queen, and nobility; he has been a prince’s page all his life, and a prince’s page he still will be.
Lines representing #B# 12^{3,4}, #C# 17^{3,4}, have been interpolated into the fragment of ‘The Slaughter of the Laird of Mellerstain,’ No 230:
They wad take the lands frae fause Fenwick, And give them to James Hately.
There is no a month in a’ the year But changëd should his claithing be.
* * * * *
A
#a.# “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 35, MS. of Thomas Wilkie, p. 6, Abbotsford; “from Betty Hoyl, who learned it from her mother,” Gattonside. #b.# Campbell MSS, II, 289. #c.# R. Chambers, The Romantic Scottish Ballads, etc., 1859, p. 37; “taken down many years ago from the singing of an old man in the south of Scotland.”
1 It happened once upon a time, When the king he was from home, Sir Fenwick he has stolen his jewels, And laid the blame on James Hatley.
2 James Hatley was in prison strong, A wait he was condemned to die; There was not one in all the court To speak one word for James Hatley.
3 No one but the king’s daughter, A wait she loved him tenderlie; She’s stolen the keys from her father’s head, And gaed and conversed wi James Hatley.
4 ‘Come, tell to me now, James,’ she said, ‘Come, tell to me if thou hast them stolen, And I’ll make a vow, and I’ll keep it true, Ye shall never be the worse of me.’
5 ‘I have not stolen them, lady,’ he said, ‘Nor as little it was intended by me; Sir Fenwick he has stolen them himself; A wait he has laid the blame on me.’
6 ‘One asking, one asking, father dear, One asking, one asking grant to me, For I never asked one in my life; I am sure you cannot but grant it to me.’
7 ‘Weel ask it, weel ask it, daughter dear, Ask it, and it granted shall be; If it should be my hole estate, Naesaid, naesaid, it shall not be.’
8 ‘I want none of your gold, father, And I want none of your fee; All that I ask, father dear, It is the life of James Hatley.’
9 ‘Weel ask it, weel ask it, daughter dear, Weel ask it, and it answerëd shall be; For I’ll make a vow, and I’ll keep it true, James Hatley shall never hangëd be.’
10 ‘Another asking, father dear, Another asking grant to me; Let Fenwick and Hatley go [to] the sword, And let them try their verity.’
11 ‘’Tis weel askëd, daughter dear, ’Tis weel asked, and it granted shall be; For eer the morn or twelve o’clock They both at the point of the sword shall be.’
12 James Hatley was fifteen years old, Sir Fenwick he was thirty three; But James lap about, and he struck about, Till he’s gaen Sir Fenwick wounds three.
13 ‘Hold up, hold up, James Hatley,’ he cry’d, ‘And let my breath go out and in; For I have stolen them myself, More shame and disgrace it is to me.’
14 Up and spake an English lord, And O but he spake haughtily! ‘I would reather given my whole estates Before ye had not hanged James Hatley.’
15 But up and spake a Scottish lord, And O but he spake boldly! ‘I would reather hae foughten among blood to the knees Before ye had hanged James Hatley.’
16 Up and spake the king’s eldest son, ‘Come hame, James Hatley, and dine wi me; For I’ve made a vow, I’ll keep it true, Ye’s be my captain by land and by sea.’
17 Up and spake the king’s daughter, ‘Come home, James Hatley, and dine wi me; For I’ve made a vow, I’ll keep it true, I’ll never marry a man but thee.’
* * * * *
B
“Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 39, MS. of Thomas Wilkie, p. 18, “as sung by Chirsty Robertson, Dunse.” The same, transcribed by Thomas Wilkie, “Scotch Ballads,” etc., No 79. Abbotsford.
1 It happened once upon a time, When the king he was from home, False Fennick he has stolen his jewels, And laid the blame on James Hately.
2 The day was sett . . . . And the wind blew shill oer the lea; There was not one in all the court To speak a word for James Hately.
3 James is to the prince’s chamber gone, And he’s bowd low down on his knee: ‘What will ye do for me, my little pretty prince? O what will ye do for your page, James Hately?’
4 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ‘And I will away to my father, the king, And see if your life can savëd be.’
5 The prince he’s to his father gone, And he’s bowed low down on his knee: ‘What will ye do for me, my father? O what will ye do for my page, James Hately?’
6 ‘James Hately has my jewels stolen, A Norland lord hath told it to me; James Hately has my jewels stolen, And oer the barras he maun die.’
7 The prince he drew his little brown sword— It was made of the metal so free— And he swore he would fight them man by man That would lay the blame on James Hately.
8 Up then spoke the false Fennick, And an ill-spoken man was he; ‘James Hately has the king’s jewels stolen, . . . . . . . .’
9 The prince he drew his little brown sword— It was made of the metal so free— And he’s thrust it in false Fennick’s side, And given him death-wounds two or three.
10 ‘O hold your hand, my little pretty prince, And let my breath go out and in, For spilling of my noble blood And shaming of my noble kin.
11 ‘O hold your hand, my little pretty prince, And let my breath go out and in, And there’s the key of my coffer, And you’ll find the king’s jewels lying therein.’
12 ‘If this be true,’ the king he said, ‘If this be true ye tell to me, I will take your lands, false Fennick,’ he said, ‘And give them all to James Hately.’
* * * * *
C
Motherwell’s MS., p. 654; “from the recitation of the wife of Charles Drain, sow-gelder, etc., Kilmarnock.”
1 There was a fause knicht in the court, And he was fu o treacherie, And he staw the queen’s jewels in the nicht, And left the wyte on Jamie O’Lee.
2 The king he wrate a braid letter, And sealed it richt tenderlie, And he sent it to his only son, To come and speak to him speedilie.
3 When he cam afore the king, He kneeled low down on his knee: ‘What is your will, my sovereign leige? What is your will? cum tell to me.’
4 ‘Jamie O’Lee has my jewels stown, As the English lord tells unto me, And out o Scotland he shall be sent, And sent awa to Germanie.’
5 ‘O no, O no,’ then said the prince, ‘Sic things as that can never be; But get me a man that will take on hand The morn to fecht young Jamie O’Lee.’
6 Syne out and spak the fause Phenix, And oh, he spak richt spitefullie; ‘I am the man will tak on han To fecht and conquer Jamie O’Lee.’
7 ‘Oh no, oh no,’ syne said the prince, ‘Sic things as that can never bee, For Jamie O’Lee’s no fifteen years auld, And ye, fause Phenix, are thretty three.’
8 The prince he mounted then wi speed, He’s aff wi tidings to Jamie O’Lee, Saying, The morn’s morning ye maun fecht, Or out o England banisht bee.
9 When Jamie O’Lee the tidings heard, Fast the saut tear blindit his ee; ‘I’m saikless o thae jewels,’ he said, ‘As the bairn that sits on the nourice knee.’
10 Then Phenix munted a scaffold hie, A’ for to shaw his veritie; Whilk gart the nobles a’ to cry ‘A dead man are ye, Jamie O’Lee!’
11 The first straik the fause Phenix gied, He gart the blude rin speedilie; It gart the prince’s heart to ache, And cry, Oh, alace for my Jamie O’Lee!
12 Jamie O’Lee he stepped back, Waiting for opportunitie, And wi his sword baith lang and sharp He ran it thro Phenix fause bodie.
13 ‘O haud your hand, Jamie O’Lee,’ he said, ‘And let the breath remain in me, And skail nae mair o my noble blude, ’Tis a great disgrace to my loyaltie.’
14 ‘Confess, confess, ye fause Phenix, Confess your faults this day to me; Were there nae mair men in a’ England, My ain twa hands your death suld be.’
15 ‘Ye were sae great wi king and queen, I thocht I wuld hae banisht thee, And I staw the queen’s jewels in the nicht, And left the wyte on Jamie O’Lee.’
16 Syne out and spak the king himsell, Saying, Jamie O’Lee, come hame wi me, And there’s no a knicht in a’ my court But what at your command sall be.
17 Syne out and spak the queen hersell, Saying, Jamie O’Lee, come hame wi me, And there’s no a month in a’ the year But changed and brothered ye sall be.
18 Syne out and spak the prince himsell, Saying, Jamie O’Lee, come hame wi me; I hae free lands in a’ Scotland, And at your command they a’ sall be.
19 ‘I thank ye, king, and I thank ye, queen, I thank ye a’, nobilitie, But a prince’s page I was a’ my life, And a prince’s page I yet will be.’
20 The king gied him a silk waistcoat, And it was lined wi the taffetie, Wi a band o gowd around his neck, And a prince’s page he seems to be.
* * * * *
#A. a.#
1^1. day written over time.
1^2. from home was he?
2^2, 3^2, 5^4. Await.
4^2. The -ee rhyme may be restored by transposing Come tell to me, as in #c# (or adding said she).
7^4. Nae said, nae said.
13^2–13^3. Two half-stanzas are wanting here: see #b#, #c#.
16 follows 17, but see #b#, #c#.
#b.#
1^2. king was from home but lately.
1^3. That Sir.
2^1. was laid.
2^2, 3^2, 5^4. I wat.
2^3. And there’s not a man in.
2^4. Wad speak.
3^1. king’s fair.
3^4. And went in and.
4^2. if you have.
4^3. vow, I’ll.
5^2. was it.
5^4. And I wat he’s.
After 5:
* * * * *
Up then spak the king himsel, And an angry man I wot was he: ‘For stealin o my jewels rare, Hatlie shall oer the barriers die.’
6^{1,2}. A boon, a boon, O.
6^3. askit a boon before.
6^4. And I’m sure that you will grant it me.
7^1. O ask it, ask it.
7^3. And gin it be the half o my estate.
7^4. Granted sal it be to thee.
8. ‘O grant me this favour, father dear, O grant this favour unto me, For I never askëd favour before; O spare the life of James Hatlie!’
9. Wanting.
10^3. Let Hatley and Fenwick go to.
11^1. Well askëd, well askëd.
11^2. Well asked.
11^3. Before the morn at.
12^1. he was seventeen.
12^3. But wanting: strak.
12^4. gien.
13^1. he said. Between 13^2 and 13^3:
‘For this is spillin of noble blude, And shamein of my noble kin.
‘Hold up, hold up,’ Sir Fenwick he said, ‘Hold up, and ye sal justified be;’
13^3. stolen the jewels myself.
14^1. Up then spake a southern.
14^3. rather have given the half o my land.
14^4. Before James Hatlie should not hanged be.
15. Wanting.
16, 17. The son speaks before the daughter.
16^1, 17^1. Up then.
16^3. For from this hour receive this dower.
16^4. Ye sal be.
17^{3,4}. For ere the sun gae down this night, O there’s my hand, I’ll marry thee.
#c.#
1^1. It fell upon a certain day.
1^2. from home he chanced to be.
1^3. The king’s jewels they were stolen all.
1^4. And they.
2^1. And he is into prison cast.
2^2. And I wat he is.
2^3. For there was not a man.
2^4. speak a.
3. But the king’s eldest daughter she loved him well, But known her love it might not be; And she has stolen the prison-keys, And gane in and discoursed wi James Hatelie.
4^1. Oh, did you steal them, James.
4^2. Oh, did not you steal them? come tell to me.
4^3. For I’ll.
4^4. You’s.
5^1. I did not steal them, James.
5^2. And neither was it.
5^3. For the English they stole them themselves.
5^4. And I wat they’ve.
6^{1,2}. Now she has hame to her father gane, And bowed her low down on her knee; ‘I ask, I ask, I ask, father,’ she said, ‘I ask, I ask a boon of thee.’
6^3. For wanting.
6^4. And one of them you must grant to me.
7^{1,2}. Ask on, ask on, daughter, he said, And aye weel answered ye shall be.
7^3. For if it were my whole.
7^4. you shall.
8^1. I ask.
8^2. As little of your white monie.
8^3. But all the asken that I do ask.
9^1. Ask on, ask on, daughter, he said.
9^2. And aye weel answered ye.
9^3. and keep.
9^4. shall not.
10^1. asken I ask, father: dear wanting.
10^2. asken I ask of thee. 10^3. go to.
11^{1,2}. Ask on, ask on, daughter, he said, And aye weel answered you shall be.
11^3. For before the morn at.
12^1. eighteen years of age.
12^2. False F. was thirty years and three.
12^3. He lap: strack.
12^4. And he gave false F.
13^1. Oh, hold your hand, J. H., he said.
Between 13^2 and 13^3:
‘Were it not for the spilling of my noble blood, And the shaming of my noble kin.
‘Oh, hold your hand, James Hatelie,’ he said, ‘Oh, hold your hand, and let me be.’
13^3. For I’m the man that stole the jewels.
13^4. And a: it was. 14^1. Then up bespoke.
14^2. I wat but he.
14^3. rather have lost all my lands.
14^4. they had.
15^1. Then up bespoke a good Scotch.
15^2. I wat a good Scotch lord was he.
15^3. to the knees in blood.
15^4. Than they.
16, 17. The son speaks before the daughter.
16^1, 17^1. Then up bespoke.
16^2, 17^2. Come in.
16^3, 17^3. I’ll make: and I’ll.
16^3. You’se: and sea.
17^1. king’s eldest.
#B.#
_The copy transcribed by Wilkie has been edited a little. 2^{1,2}, originally written in one line, are rightly divided as here; 2^{3,4} are made the concluding half of another stanza._
2^4. Would speak one.
3^1. James he.
3^4. O omitted.
4^3. And omitted.
5^1. prince is: father’s chamber.
6^2. to omitted.
9^2. That hung low down by his knee.
9^3. it wanting.
9^4. Then gave him.
11 is put before 10, and 10^{1,2} omitted.
11^4. king’s laying (careless copying).
12^3. false omitted.
Wilkie notes (No 39) that he had “heard this sung also by a shepherd on Soltra hill,” but it is not likely that these variations were derived from the shepherd.
#C.#
9^1. When Johnie.
14^3. War for Were originally.
17^4. brothered in the MS.
245
YOUNG ALLAN
#A.# Skene MS., p. 33.
#B.# ‘Young Allan,’ Buchan’s MSS, II, 182.
#C.# ‘Young Allan,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 11.
#D.# ‘Young Allan,’ Murison MS., p. 117.
#E.# ‘Earl Patrick,’ Kinloch MSS, V, 395.
The copy in Christie’s Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 252, is abridged from #C#, with half a dozen arbitrary and insignificant changes.
Skippers (lords) of Lothain, #A#, of Scarsburgh, #C#, of Aberdeen, #D#, are bragging over their drink: some, absurdly enough, of their hawks and hounds, #A-C#, some of their ladies, young Allan of his ship, which will outsail all others but three.[147] A boy in #A#, #C#, says that his master has a boat (it is a coal-carrier in #C#) which will take the wind from him. A wager is laid, #A#, #B#, #C#. All the rest go to drinking, ‘to the tows,’ but Allan to his prayers, #C# 8. They sail; there is a terrible storm, in the course of which the three competitors are ‘rent in nine,’ #A# 9, or two of them sink, and the topmast of the third ‘gaes in nine,’ #E# 7–9.
In #A# they have sailed only a few leagues, when Allan’s ship is so racked by the storm that they see water through her sides. At this point, especially in #A#, Allan’s seamanship appears to very little advantage; he is more of a fair-weather yachtsman than of a skeely skipper. If he could get a bonny boy to take the helm and bring the ship in safe, the boy should have a liberal share of his gold and land, and a daughter Ann besides, whom one is surprised that Young Allan should have to offer. In #A# and #D# the bonny boy evidently takes command of the ship, although in #A# 18 the sailors ascribe their safety, under God, to their good master. The ballad indeed suffers almost as grievously as the comely cog.
In #B-E# Allan calls for a bonny boy to take the helm while he goes to the masthead to look for land. In #D# he makes the same promises as in #A#, but the bonny boy cares only for Ann. In #B#, #C# the bonny boy suggests that Allan should waken his drunken men, for whom good thick shoes had been bought, though none had been given him. But in all the boy takes the helm, and in fact keeps it till the ship is in. Allan, at the masthead, can see neither day nor landmark; many feather-beds are floating on the water, #B#, #C#. The boy calls his master down; the sea can be seen through the ship’s sides, #B-E#.
Orders are given, by the boy or by Allan (by the boy certainly in #D#, and by Allan in #E#), to take feather-beds and canvas and lay, busk, or wrap the ship round; pitch and tar are also recommended in #B#, #C#. This done, Allan addresses the ship: Spring up, and gold shall be your hire, #A#; Haste to dry land, and every nail that is in you shall be a gold pin, #B#; For every iron nail in you, of gold there shall be ten, #C#; in #D#, indirectly, Where she wants an iron nail drive in a silver pin, and where she wants an oaken bolt beat in the gold, and the like in #E#. When the ship hears this, she springs from the water like sparks from the fire, #A-C#.
The first shore they come to is Troup, #B#, Howdoloot, #C#, Linn, #D#, #E#. The ship is kept off with cannon, #B#, #C#, with spears and bayonets, #D#; is towed in (wrongly), #E#. The next shore they come to is Lee, #B#, #E#, Howdilee, #C#, wanting in #D#; ‘they bare her to the sea,’ #C#, ‘they turned their ship about,’ #D#, the ship is towed in (wrongly), #B#, #E#. The third shore they come to is Lin, #B#, Howdilin, #C#, Aberdeen, #D#; the ship is towed in (welcomed), with drums beating and pipes playing, #B#, #C#, #D#.
Allan calls for the bonny boy that brought the ship safe in, that took the helm in hand, and offers him gold, land, and his daughter; the boy rejects gold and land, and takes the daughter, #A#, #D#; Allan makes over to the boy his comely cog and gives him his daughter, #B#; gives him his daughter, #C#.
Five-and-forty ships, #A#, three-and-fifty, #C#, one-and-twenty, #E#, went to sea, and only one came back.[148]
This ballad is mixed with that of ‘Sir Patrick Spens,’ No 58, II, 21 ff. #E# 1–6 belong entirely to No 58, and #K# 6–10, #M# 1, 3, of No 58 belong to ‘Young Allan.’ The bonny boy is found in 58, #B#, #C#, #E#, #G#, #I#, #J#; the floating feather-beds occur in #E-H#, #J#, #O#, #R#; the sea is seen through the ship in 58, #C# 15, #I# 21; cloth is wapped into the ship’s side to keep out water, #H# 19, 20; feather-beds and canvas (and pitch) are used as here in #I# 22, 23.
By far the most interesting feature in this ballad is Allan’s addressing his ship and the ship’s intelligent behavior, #A# 16, 17, #B# 12–15, #C# 21–22. Friðþjóf’s ship Elliða understood and obeyed the speech of its master: Fornaldar Sogur, II, 79, 443 (cited by Bugge). Ranild’s ship came to him when he blew his horn: ‘Svend Ranild,’ Grundtvig, No 28, I, 367 (translated by Prior, I, 286). In another Danish ballad, and one of the best, the Ox when sailed by St Olav, responds to his commands as if fully endowed with consciousness; he thwacks it in the side and over the eye, and it goes faster and faster; but it is animate only for the nonce: ‘Hellig-Olavs Væddefart,’ Grundtvig, No 50, II, 134, Prior, I, 356.
The Phæacian ships have neither helmsman nor helm, and know men’s minds and the way to all cities: Odyssey, viii, 557 ff. There is a magical self-moving ship in Marie de France’s Guigemar, and elsewhere.
* * * * *
A
Skene MS., p. 33; taken down in the north of Scotland, 1802–3
1 A’ the skippers of bonny Lothain, As they sat at the wine, There fell a reesin them amang, An it was in unhappy time.
2 Some o them reesd their hawks, An some o them their hounds, An some o them their ladies gay, Trod neatly on the ground; Young Allan he reesd his comely cog, That lay upon the strand.
3 ‘I hae as good a ship this day As ever sailed our seas, Except it be the Burges Black, But an the Small Cordvine, The Comely Cog of Dornisdale; We’s lay that three bye in time.’
4 Out spak there a little boy, Just at Young Allan’s knee: ‘Ye lie, ye lie, Young Allan, Sae loud’s I hear ye lie.
5 ‘For my master has a little boat Will sail thrice as well as thine; For she’ll gang in at your foremast, An gae out your fore-lee, An nine times in a winter night She’ll tak the wind frae thee.’
6 ‘O what will ye wad, ye Young Allan? Or what will ye wad wi me?’ ‘I’ll wad my head against your land Till I get more monnie.’
7 They had na saild a league, A league but barely three, But through an thro the bonny ship They saw the green wall sea.
8 They had na saild a league, A league but barely five, But through an thro their bonny ship They saw the green well wave.
9 He gaed up to the topmast, To see what he coud see, And there he saw the Burgess Black, But an the Small Cordvine, The Comely Cog of Dornisdale; The three was rent in nine.
10 Young Allan grat an wrang his hands, An he kent na what to dee: ‘The win is loud, and the waves are proud, An we’ll a’ sink in the sea.
11 ‘But gin I coud get a bonny boy Wad tak my helm in han, That would steer my bonny ship, An bring her safe to land,
12 ‘He shoud get the twa part o my goud, The third part o my land, An gin we win safe to shore He shoud get my dochter Ann.’
13 ‘O here am I, a bonny boy That will tak your helm in han, An will steer your bonny ship An bring her safe to lan.
14 ‘Ye tak four-an-twenty feather-beds An lay the bonny ship round, An as much of the good canvas As mak her hale an soun.’
15 They took four-an-twenty feather-beds An laid the bonny ship roun, An as much o the good canvas As made her hale an soun.
16 ‘Spring up, spring up, my bonny ship, An goud sall be your hire!’ Whan the bonny ship heard o that, That goud shoud be her hire, She sprang as fast frae the sat water As sparks do frae the fire.
17 ‘Spring up, spring up, my bonny ship, And goud sall be your fee!’ Whan the bonny ship heard o that, That goud shoud be her fee, She sprang as fast frae the sat water As the leaf does frae the tree.
18 The sailors stan on the shore-side, Wi their auld baucheld sheen: ‘Thanks to God an our guid master That ever we came safe to land!’
19 ‘Whar is the bonny boy That took my helm in han, That steerd my bonny ship, An brought her safe to lan?
20 ‘He’s get the twa part o my goud, The third part o my lan, An, since we’re come safe to shore, He’s get my dochter Ann.’
21 ‘O here am I, the bonny boy That took your helm in han, That steered your bonny ship, An brought her safe to lan.
22 ‘I winna hae the twa part o your goud, Nor the third part o your lan, But, since we hae win safe to shore, I’ll wed your dochter Ann.’
23 Forty ships went to the sea, Forty ships and five, An there never came ane o a’ back, But Young Allan, alive.
* * * * *
B
Buchan’s MSS, II, 182
1 There were four-an-twenty sailors bold Sat drinking at the wine; There fell a rousing them among, In an unseally time.
2 Some there reasd their hawk, their hawk, And some there reasd their hound, But Young Allan reasd his comely cog, As she floats on the feam.
3 ‘There’s not a ship amang you a’ Will sail alang wi me, But the comely cog o Heckland Hawk, And Flower o Germanie, And the Black Snake o Leve London; They are all gane frae me.’
4 The wager was a gude wager, Of fifty tuns of wine, And as much o the gude black silk As cleathd their lemans fine.
5 At midnight dark the wind up stark, The seas began to rout; Young Allan and his bonny new ship Gaed three times witherlins about.
6 ‘O faer will I get a bonny boy Will take my helm in hand Ere I gang up to the tapmast-head To look for some dry land?’
7 ‘O waken, waken your drunken men, As they lie drunk wi wine; For when ye came thro Edinburgh town Ye bought them shoes o ben.
8 ‘There was no shoe made for my feet, Nor gluve made for my hand; But nevertheless, my dear master, I’ll take your helm in hand Till ye gae to the topmast head And look for some dry land.’
9 ‘I cannot see no day, no day, Nor no meathe can I ken; But mony a bonny feather-bed Lies floating on the faem.’
10 ‘Come down, come down, my dear master, You see not what I see; Through an through your bonny new ship Comes in the green haw sea.’
11 ‘Take fifty ells o the canvas broad And wrap it in a’ roun, And as much o good pich an tar Make her go hale an soun.
12 ‘Sail on, sail on, my bonny ship, And haste ye to dry lan, And every nail that is in you Shall be a gay gold pin.
13 ‘Sail on, sail on, my bonny ship, And hae me to some lan, And a firlot full o guineas red Will be dealt at the lan’s end.’
14 The ship she hearkend to their voice And listend to their leed, And she gaed thro the green haw sea Like fire out o a gleed.
15 When the ship got word o that, Goud was to be her beat, She’s flowen thro the stormy seas Like sparks out o a weet.
16 The first an shore that they came till, It was the shore o Troup; Wi cannons an great shooting there, They held Young Allan out.
17 The next an shore that they came till, It was the shore o Lee; Wi piping an sweet singing there, They towed Young Allan tee.
18 The next an shore that they came till, It was the shore o Lin; Wi drums beating and pipers playing, They towed Young Allan in, And Allan’s lady she was there, To welcome Allan hame.
19 ‘O faer is my little boy,’ he said, ‘That I brought oer the sea?’ ‘I’m coming, master, running, master, At your command shall be.’
20 ‘O take to you my comely cog, And wed my daughter free, And a’ for this ae night’s wark That ye did wake wi me.’
* * * * *
C
Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 11
1 All the skippers o Scarsburgh Sat drinking at the wine; There fell a rousing them amang, On an unseally time.
2 Some there rousd their hawk, their hawk, And some there rousd their hound, But Young Allan rousd his comely cog, As she stood on dry ground.
3 ‘There’s nae a ship in Scarsburgh Will sail the seas wi mine, Except it be the Burgess Black, Or than the smack calld Twine.
4 ‘There’s nae a ship amang you a’ Will sail alang wi me, But the comely cog o Hecklandhawk, And Flower o Yermanie, And the Black Snake o Leve London; They are a’ gane frae me.’
5 Out it speaks a little wee boy Stood by Young Allan’s knee; ‘My master has a coal-carrier Will take the wind frae thee.
6 ‘She will gae out under the leaf, Come in under the lee, And nine times in a winter night She’ll turn the wind wi thee.’
7 When they had wagerd them amang Full fifty tuns o wine, Besides as mickle gude black silk As clathe their lemans fine,
8 When all the rest went to the tows, All the whole night to stay, Young Allan he went to his bower, There with his God to pray.
9 ‘There shall nae man gang to my ship Till I say mass and dine, And take my leave o my lady; Gae to my bonny ship syne.’
10 Then they saild east on Saturday, On Sunday sailëd west; Likewise they sailed on Mononday Till twelve, when they did rest.
11 At midnight dark the wind up stark, And seas began to rout, Till Allan and his bonny new ship Gaed three times witherlands about.
12 ‘O,’ sighing says the Young Allan, ‘I fear a deadly storm; For mony a heaving sinking sea Strikes sair on my ship’s stern.
13 ‘Where will I get a little wee boy Will take my helm in hand Till I gang up to my tapmast And see for some dry land?’
14 ‘O waken, waken your drunken men, As they lye drunk wi wine; For when ye came thro Edinbro town Ye bought them sheen o ben.
15 ‘There was nae shoe made for my foot, Nor gluve made for my hand; But nevertheless, my dear master, I’ll take your helm in hand Till ye gang to the tall tapmast And look for some dry land.
16 ‘And here am I, a little wee boy Will take your helm in han Till ye gang up to your tapmast, But, master, stay not lang.’
17 ‘I cannot see nae day, nae day, Nor nae meathe can I ken; But mony a bonny feather-bed Lyes floating on the faem, And the comely cog o Normanshore, She never will gang hame.’
18 The comely cog o Nicklingame Came sailing by his hand; Says, Gae down, gae down, ye gude skipper, Your ship sails on the sand.
19 ‘Come down, come down, my gude master, Ye see not what I see; For thro and thro our comely cog I see the green haw sea.’
20 ‘Take fifty ells o gude canvas And wrap the ship a’ round; And pick her weell, and spare her not, And make her hale and sound.
21 ‘If ye will sail, my bonny ship, Till we come to dry land, For ilka iron nail in you, Of gowd there shall be ten.’
22 The ship she listend all the while, And, hearing of her hire, She flew as swift threw the saut sea As sparks do frae the fire.
23 The first an shore that they came till, They ca’d it Howdoloot; Wi drums beating and cannons shouting, They held our gude ship out.
24 The next an shore that they came till, They ca’d it Howdilee; Wi drums beating and fifes playing, They bare her to the sea.
25 The third an shore that they came till, They ca’d it Howdilin; Wi drums beating and pipes playing, They towd our gude ship in.
26 The sailors walkd upon the shore, Wi their auld baucheld sheen, And thanked God and their Lady, That brought them safe again.
27 ‘For we went out o Scarsburgh Wi fifty ships and three; But nane o them came back again But Young Allan, ye see.’
28 ‘Come down, come down, my little wee boy, Till I pay you your fee; I hae but only ae daughter, And wedded to her ye’se be.’
* * * * *
D
Murison MS., p. 117; learned by Mrs Murison from her mother, Old Deer, Aberdeenshire.
1 There was three lords sat drinkin wine In bonnie Aberdeen, [O] . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
2 Some o them talked o their merchandise, An some o their ladies fine, [O] But Young Allan he talked o his bonnie ship, That cost him mony a poun.
* * * * * *
3 ‘Whar will I get a bonnie wee boy That’ll tak my helm in han, O Till I gang up to my high topmast An look oot for some dry lan?
4 ‘He’ll get half o my gowd, an half o my gear, An the third pairt o my lan, An gin he row me safe on shore He shall hae my daughter Ann.’
5 ‘O here am I, a bonny wee boy That’ll tak your helm in han Till ye gang up to your high topmast An look oot for some dry lan.
6 ‘I’ll nae seek your gowd, nor I’ll nae seek your gear, Nor the third pairt o your lan, But gin I row you safe to shore I shall hae your daughter Ann.
7 ‘Come doon, come doon, Young Allan,’ he cries, ‘Ye see nae what I see; For through an through your bonnie ship-side An I see the open sea.
8 ‘Ye’ll tak twenty-four o your feather-beds, Ye’ll busk your bonnie ship roon, An as much o the guid canvas-claith As gar her gang hale an soun.
9 ‘An whar ye want an iron bolt Ye’ll ca a siller pin, An whar ye want an oaken bolt Ye’ll beat the yellow gold in.’
10 He’s taen twenty-four o his feather-beds An buskit’s bonnie ship roon, An as much o the guid canvas-claith As gar her gang hale an soun.
11 An whar he’s wantit an iron bolt He’s ca’d a siller pin, An whar he’s wantit an oaken bolt He’s beat the yellow gold in.
12 The firstan shore that they cam till, It was the shore o Linn; They held their spears an beenits oot, An they wouldna lat Allan in.
13 The neistan shore that they cam till It was the shore o . . . ; . . . . . . . An they turned their ship aboot.
14 But the neistan shore that they cam till, ‘T was bonnie Aberdeen; The fifes an drums they a’ did play, To welcome Allan in.
15 ‘O where is he, the bonnie wee boy That took my helm in han Till I gied up to my high topmast An lookd oot for some dry lan?
16 ‘He’s get half o my gowd, an half o my gear, An the third pairt o my lan, An since he’s rowt me safe to shore He sall hae my daughter Ann.’
17 ‘O here am I, the bonnie wee boy That took your helm in han Till ye gied up to your high topmast An lookd oot for some dry lan.
18 ‘I’ll nae seek half o your good, nor half o your gear, Nor the third pairt o your lan, But since I’ve rowt you safe to shore I sall hae your daughter Ann.’
* * * * *
E
Kinloch MSS, V, 395; in the handwriting of John Hill Burton, when a youth
1 The king he sits in Dumfermline, Birlin at the wine, And callin for the best skipper That ever sailed the faem.
2 Then out it spak a bonny boy, Sat at the king’s right knee; ‘Earl Patrick is the best skipper That ever sailed the sea.’
3 The king he wrote a braed letter, And sealed it wi his ring, And sent it to Earl Patrick, . . . . . .
4 ‘Oh wha is this, or wha is that, Has tald the king o me? For I was niver a gude mariner, And niver sailed the sea.
* * * * * *
5 ‘Ye’ll eat and drink, my merry young men, The red wine you amang, For blaw it wind, or blaw it sleet, Our ship maun sail the morn.
6 ‘Late yestreen I saw the new meen Wi the auld meen in hir arm,’ And sichand said him Earl Patrick, ‘I fear a deadly storm.’
7 They sailed up, sae did they down, Thro mony a stormy stream, Till they saw the Dam o Micklengaem, When she sank amang the faem.
8 They sailed up, sae did they down, Thro many a stormy stream, Till they saw the Duke o Normandy, And she sank among the faem.
9 They sailed up, sae did they down, Thro many a stormy stream, Till they saw the Black Shater o Leve London, And her topmast gaed in nine.
10 ‘Where will I get a bonny boy That will tack my helm in hand Till I gang up to my topmast, And spy for some dry land?’
11 ‘Now here am I, a bonny boy Will tack yer helm in hand Till ye go up to your topmast But I fear ye’ll never see land.’
12 ‘Cum down, cum down, my gude master, Ye see not what I see, For through and through yer bonny ship I see the raging sea.’
13 ‘Ye’ll tak four-and-twenty fether-beds And lay my bonny ship roun, And as muckle o the fine canvas As make her haill and soun.
14 ‘And where she wants an iron nail O silver she’s hae three, And where she wants a timmer-pin We’ll rap the red goud in.’
* * * * * *
15 The firsten shore that they cam till, They cad it shore the Linn; Wi heart and hand and good command, They towed their bonny ship in.
16 The nexten shore that they came till, They caad it shore the Lee; With heart and hand and good command, They towed the bonny ship tee.
17 There was twenty ships gaed to the sea, Twenty ships and ane, And there was na ane came back again But Earl Patrick alane.
* * * * *
#A.#
18^2. ill buckled corruptly for the auld baucheld of #C# 26 (baucheld==down at the heels).
#B.#
2^2. hind.
3^5. snakes o Leveland den; and snakes o Levelanden, #C# 4^5. I have not found snake, for ship, in late English, but the A. S. snacc==Icelandic snekkja, a fast ship, may well have come down. For Leve London see #E# 9^3.
11^4. We should perhaps read As make; cf. #A# 14^4, #D.# 8^4.
#C.#
4^5. black snakes o Levelanden.
#D.#
After 2. “A long, long gap, that I have got nobody to fill up. I learned it from my mother, but she has quite forgotten it.”
9^1. whar he.
13^3. Remark: “Not let land here either.”
17^3. to yon, or you.
O is added at the end of every second line.
#E.#
6^3. sich and.
9^3. shater. Cf. #B# 3^5, #C# 4^5, where the texts have snakes (corrected here to snake). The writer of #E# had begun the word with something different from sh, but with what I cannot make out.
11^4. feear.
14^1. when or wher.
246
REDESDALE AND WISE WILLIAM
#A.# ‘Reedisdale and Wise William,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 70; Motherwell’s MS., p. 452; Motherwell’s Minstrelsy, p. 298.
#B.# ‘Roudesdales,’ Harris MS., fol. 14 b.
#C.# Kinloch MSS, V, 423, two stanzas.
Redesdale boasts to William that he can win any woman with a blink of his eye. William has a sister who, he maintains, is not to be had so easily. A wager is laid, William’s head against Redesdale’s lands. William is shut up to prevent his warning his sister, but sends her a letter by a carrier-bird. Redesdale rides to the maiden’s bower, and, seeing her at the window, tries to induce her to come down by a series of offers of silk-gowns, jewels, etc. His offers proving bootless, he threatens to fire the house, and does so. The maid and her women don wet mantles and pass the reek and flame unhurt. She sends word to her brother, who claims Redesdale’s lands.
#A# 1, 2, 5 are substantially a repetition of No 245, #A# 1, 2^{1,4}, 6, etc. The sharp shower in #B# 16–18, which puts out, and does not put out, the fire, is an inept interpolation.
This ballad may be an offshoot from a widely spread story which is tediously told further on in ‘Twa Knights.’
* * * * *
A
Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 70; written down from memory by Mr Nicol, Strichen, as learned in his earlier years from old people
1 When Reedisdale and Wise William Were drinking at the wine, There fell a roosing them amang, On an unruly time.
2 For some o them hae roosd their hawks, And other some their hounds, And other some their ladies fair, And their bowers whare they walkd in.
3 When out it spake him Reedisdale, And a rash word spake he; Says, There is not a lady fair, In bower wherever she be, But I could aye her favour win Wi ae blink o my ee.
4 Then out it spake him Wise William, And a rash word spake he; Says, I have a sister of my own, In bower where ever she be, And ye will not her favour win With three blinks of your ee.
5 ‘What will ye wager, Wise William? My lands I’ll wad with thee;’ ‘I’ll wad my head against your land, Till I get more monie.’
6 Then Reedisdale took Wise William, Laid him in prison strang, That he might neither gang nor ride, Nor ae word to her send.
7 But he has written a braid letter, Between the night and day, And sent it to his own sister By dun feather and gray.
8 When she had read Wise William’s letter, She smilëd and she leugh; Said, Very well, my dear brother, Of this I have eneuch.
9 She looked out at her west window To see what she could see, And there she spied him Reedisdale Come riding ower the lea.
10 Says, Come to me, my maidens all, Come hitherward to me; For here it comes him Reedisdale, Who comes a-courting me.
11 ‘Come down, come down, my lady fair, A sight of you give me;’ ‘Go from my yetts now, Reedisdale, For me you will not see.’
12 ‘Come down, come down, my lady fair, A sight of you give me; And bonny are the gowns of silk That I will give to thee.’
13 ‘If you have bonny gowns of silk, O mine is bonny tee; Go from my yetts now, Reedisdale, For me you shall not see.’
14 ‘Come down, come down, my lady fair, A sight of you I’ll see; And bonny jewels, brooches and rings I will give unto thee.’
15 ‘If you have bonny brooches and rings, O mine are bonny tee; Go from my yetts now, Reedisdale, For me you shall not see.’
16 ‘Come down, come down, my lady fair, One sight of you I’ll see; And bonny are the ha’s and bowers That I will give to thee.’
17 ‘If you have bonny ha’s and bowers, O mine are bonny tee; Go from my yetts now, Reedisdale, For me you shall not see.’
18 ‘Come down, come down, my lady fair, A sight of you I’ll see; And bonny are my lands so broad That I will give to thee.’
19 ‘If you have bonny lands so broad, O mine are bonny tee; Go from my yetts now, Reedisdale, For me ye will not see.’
20 ‘Come down, come down, my lady fair, A sight of you I’ll see; And bonny are the bags of gold That I will give to thee.’
21 ‘If you have bonny bags of gold, I have bags of the same; Go from my yetts now, Reedisdale, For down I will not come.’
22 ‘Come down, come down, my lady fair, One sight of you I’ll see; Or else I’ll set your house on fire, If better cannot be.’
23 Then he has set the house on fire, And all the rest it tuke; He turned his wight horse head about, Said, Alas, they’ll ne’er get out!
24 ‘Look out, look out, my maidens fair, And see what I do see, How Reedisdale has fired our house, And now rides oer the lea.
25 ‘Come hitherwards, my maidens fair, Come hither unto me; For thro this reek, and thro this smeek, O thro it we must be!’
26 They took wet mantles them about, Their coffers by the band, And thro the reek, and thro the flame, Alive they all have wan.
27 When they had got out thro the fire, And able all to stand, She sent a maid to Wise William, To bruik Reedisdale’s land.
28 ‘Your lands is mine now, Reedisdale, For I have won them free;’ ‘If there is a gude woman in the world, Your one sister is she.’
* * * * *
B
Harris MS., fol. 14 b; from Mrs Harris.
1 Roudesdales an Clerk William Sat birlin at the wine, An a’ the talk was them atween Was aboot the ladies fine, fine, Was aboot the ladies fine.
2 Says Roudesdales to Clerk William, I’ll wad my lands wi thee, I’ll wad my lands against thy head, An that is what I’ll dee,
3 ‘That there’s no a leddy in a’ the land, That’s fair, baith ee an bree, That I winna wed withoot courtin, Wi ae blink o my ee.’
4 Says William, I’ve an ae sister, She’s fair, baith ee an bree; An you’ll no wed her withoot courtin, Wi ae blink o your ee.’
5 He has wrote a broad letter, Between the nicht an the day, An sent it to his ae sister Wi the white feather an the gray.
6 The firsten line she luekit on, A licht lauchter gae she; But eer she read it to the end The tear blindit her ee.
7 ‘Oh wae betide my ae brither, Wald wad his head for me, . . . . . . . . . . . .’
8 Roudesdales to her bour has gane, An rade it round aboot, An there he saw that fair ladie, At a window lookin oot.
9 ‘Come doon, come doon, you fair ladie, Ae sicht o you to see; For the rings are o the goud sae ried That I will gie to thee.’
10 ‘If yours are o the goud sae ried, Mine’s o the silver clear; So get you gone, you Roudesdales, For you sall no be here.’
11 ‘Come doon, come doon, you lady fair, Ae sicht o you to see; For the gouns are o the silk sae fine That I will gie to thee.’
12 ‘If yours are o the silk sae fine, Mine’s o the bonnie broun; Sa get you gone, you Roudesdales, For I will no come doon.’
13 ‘Come doon, come doon, you ladie fair, Ae sicht o you to see; For the steeds are o the milk sae white That I will gie to thee.’
14 ‘If yours are o the milk sae white, Mine’s o the bonnie broun; Sae get you gone, you Roudesdales, For I will no come doon.’
15 ‘Come doon, come doon, you ladie fair, Ae sicht o you to see; Or I will set your bour on fire Atween your nurse an thee.’
16 ‘You may set my bowr on fire, As I doubt na you will dee, But there’ll come a sharp shour frae the wast Will slocken’t speedilie.’
17 He has set her bour on fire, An quickly it did flame; But there cam a sharp shour frae the wast That put it oot again.
18 Oot amang the fire an smoke That bonnie lady cam, Wi as muckle goud aboon her bree As wald bocht an earldom.
19 ‘Oh wae betide you, ill woman, An ill, ill died may you dee! For ye hae won your brither’s head, An I go landless free.’
* * * * *
C
Kinloch MSS, V, 423.
1 Redesdale and Clerk William Sat drinking at the wine; They hae fawn a wagering them atween At a wanhappy time.
2 ‘What will ye wad,’ says Redesdale, ‘O what will ye wad wi me That there’s na a lady in a’ the land But I wad win wi ae blink o my ee?’
* * * * *
#A.#
There are some very trivial variations from Buchan’s text in Motherwell’s copies; mostly is, with a plural subject, Scottice, for are. Motherwell received the ballad from Buchan, and was much in the way of making small betterments.
#B.#
Air, ‘Johnnie Brod.’
4^4. o her.
5^2. Perhaps necht.
6^2. Perhaps leiht.
247
LADY ELSPAT
‘Lady Elspat.’ #a.# Jamieson-Brown MS., p. 19. Printed in Jamieson’s Popular Ballads, II, 191. #b.# “Scottish Songs,” MS., fol. 30, Abbotsford Library, N. 3, in the handwriting of Walter Scott, about 1795
This ballad was No 10 of the fifteen of Mrs Brown’s which were obtained by William Tytler from Professor Thomas Gordon in 1783: Anderson to Percy, December 29, 1800, in Nichols’s Illustrations, VII, 177, where the first stanza (of twelve) is cited. These transcripts were accompanied with the airs. In #b#, which is now ascertained to be in the handwriting of Walter Scott,[149] there is a mawkish stanza after 4, and another after 9, which do not occur in #a#, and many verbal variations. These two stanzas are not likely to have been inserted by Scott, for, so far as we know, the ballad has been preserved only by Mrs Brown. As for the other variations, we are not in a condition to say which are Mrs Brown’s, which Scott’s.
An appointment for an elopement made by Lady Elspat with Sweet William is revealed to her mother by an eavesdropping page. William is bound with his own bow-string and brought before the Lord Justice. The mother accuses him of stealing her jewels; Lady Elspat denies this, and says that his only crime is too small an estate. The judge sees no fault in the young man (whom he discovers to be his sister’s son!), hands him over to Lady Elspat, and promises the pair as much land as a valuable horse of his can ride about in a summer’s day.
Truly not impressive in story or style, and very fit to have been forgotten by Mrs Brown.
Translated from Jamieson by Grundtvig, Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, p. 196, No 30; by Rosa Warrens, Schottische Volkslieder, p. 118, No 26; by Loève-Veimars, p. 337.
* * * * *
1 ‘How brent’s your brow, my Lady Elspat! How golden yallow is your hair! Of all the maids of fair Scotland, There’s nane like Lady Elspat fair.’
2 ‘Perform your vows, Sweet William,’ she says, ‘The vows which ye ha made to me, An at the back o my mother’s castle This night I’ll surely meet wi thee.’
3 But wae be to her brother’s page, Who heard the words this twa did say! He’s told them to her lady mother, Who wrought Sweet William mieckle wae.
4 For she has taen him Sweet William, An she’s gard bind him wi his bow-string Till the red bluide o his fair body Frae ilka nail o his hand did spring.
5 O it fell once upon a time That the Lord Justice came to town; Out has she taen him Sweet William, Brought him before Lord Justice boun.
6 ‘An what is the crime, now, madame,’ he says, ‘Has been committed by this young man?’ ‘O he has broken my bonny castel, That was well biggit wi lime an stane.
7 ‘An he has broken my bonny coffers, That was well banded wi aiken ban, An he has stoln my rich jewels; I wot he has them every one.’
8 Then out it spake her Lady Elspat, As she sat by Lord Justice knee; ‘Now ye hae taul your tale, mother, I pray, Lord Justice, you’l now hear me.
9 ‘He has na broken her bonny castel, That was well biggit wi lime an stane, Nor has he stoln her rich jewels, For I wot she has them every one.
10 ‘But tho he was my first true love, An tho I had sworn to be his bride, Cause he had not a great estate, She would this way our loves divide.’
11 An out it spake the Lord Justice, I wot the tear was in his ee; ‘I see nae fault in this young man, Sae loose his bans, an set him free.
12 ‘Take back your love, now, Lady Elspat, An my best blessing you baith upon! For gin he be your first true love, He is my eldest sister’s son.
13 ‘There is a steed in my stable Cost me baith gold and white money; Ye’s get as mieckle o my free lan As he’ll ride about in a summer’s day.’
* * * * *
#a.#
3^1. to our.
5^3. has he.
#b.#
1^3. maids in.
2^1. said.
3^{1,2}. And this beheard her mother’s foot-page, Who listed the words thae twa.
3^3. He tauld them ower to.
4^2. Gart bind: his ain.
4^4. hands.
After 4:
They threw him into dungeon-keep; Full little he reckd the pain; But sair he mournd each springing hope That was blasted a’ sae sune.
5^1. fell out.
5^2. That wanting.
5^3. And they hae.
5^4. him to thole a deadly doom.
6^{3,4}. For gin I judge frae his gentle look I think he is where he should na stand.
7. ‘Yet has he broken my highest towr, Was bigged strong wi stane and lime, And stolen forth my rich jewels Frae my coffer bound wi aiken beam.’
8^1. out and spak sweet.
8^2. sat near hir mother’s.
8^3. hae ye tauld.
8^4. Justice, hear you.
9^{1,2}. has not broken her highest towr, Was bigged strong wi stane and lime.
9^4. ane. After 9:
‘Yet has he stolen a dearer pledge, Not frae my mother, but frae me; For he has stolen a virgin’s heart Should have waited for ane o high degree.’
10^1. first fair.
11^1. Then out and spake the good.
11^3. nae harm.
11^4. his hands.
12^1. love, sweet Lady.
12^3. first fair.
13. Wanting, and probably also in W. Tytler’s copy.
248
THE GREY COCK, OR, SAW YOU MY FATHER?
#a.#.’The Grey Cock,’ Herd’s Ancient and Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p. 324; Herd’s MSS, I, 4; Herd’s Ancient and Modern Scottish Songs, 1776, II, 208. #b.# ‘Saw you my father?’ Chappell’s Popular Music, p. 731
Stanzas 1, 4, 6, 7, are printed in Herd, 1769; the three others are among the “Additions to songs in the former volume” [of 1769], at the beginning of the first volume of the MS.; the whole is given in Herd, 1776.
Repeated from Herd, 1776 (with a change or two) in Pinkerton’s Select Scotish Ballads II, 155, 1783, and in Johnson’s Museum, p. 77, No 76, 1787, ‘O saw ye my father?’ Stenhouse had not found the verses in any collection prior to that of Herd, but asserts that the song had been “a great favorite in Scotland for a long time past” (1820, Museum, ed. 1853, IV, 81).
“This song,” says Chappell, “is printed on broadsides, with the tune, and in Vocal Music, or the Songster’s Companion, II, 36, second edition, 1772. This collection was printed by Robert Horsfield, in Ludgate Street, and probably the words and music will also be found in the first edition, which I have not seen.” The words, he adds, are in several “Songsters.”
Three stanzas from recitation, wrongly attached to ‘The Broomfield Hill,’ No 43, #E#, have been given at p. 399 of the first volume of this collection. Much of the ballad has been adopted into ‘Willie’s Fatal Visit,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 259, the two concluding stanzas with little change. These two stanzas are given by a correspondent[150] of Notes and Queries, First Series, XII, 227, as heard by him in the nursery about 1787. They have been made the kernel of a song by Allan Cunningham, impudently put forward as “the precious relique of the original,” Cromek, Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song, 1810, p. 72.
The injunction to the cock is found in ‘The Swain’s Resolve,’ Lyle’s Ancient Ballads and Songs, 1827, p. 142:
She cries to the cock, saying, Thou must not crow Until that the day be worn, And thy wings shall be made of the silvery gray, And thy voice of the silver horn.
It is also cited in Graves’s Irish Songs and Ballads, London, 1882, p. 249, No 50, as occurring “in a ballad descriptive of the visit of a lover’s ghost to his betrothed,” in which the woman, to protract the interview, says:
‘O my pretty cock, O my handsome cock, I pray you do not crow before day, And your comb shall be made of the very beaten gold, And your wings of the silver so gray.’
The cock is remiss or unfaithful, again, in a little ballad picked up by Burns in Nithsdale, ‘A Waukrife Minnie,’ Cromek, Select Scotish Songs, 1810, II, 116 (of which another version is furnished by Lyle, p. 155, ‘The Wakerife Mammy’):
O weary fa the waukrife cock, And the foumart lay his crawin! He waukend the auld wife frae her sleep A wee blink or the dawin.
The first stanza of ‘The Grey Cock’ seems to have been suggested by ‘Sweet William’s Ghost’ (of which the Irish ballad noted by Graves may have been a variety), as again is the case in Buchan’s ‘James Herries.’ The fantastic reward promised the cock in stanza 6 is an imitation, or a corruption, of the bribe to the parrot in No 4, #D# 23, #E# 15, #F# 10, or in No 68, #A# 10, #B# 13, #C# 14, etc.
Of the same general description is ‘Le Chant de l’Alouette,’ Victor Smith, Chansons de Velay, etc., Romania, VII, 56 (see further note 6 of Smith); ‘Le Rendez-vous,’ Mélusine, I, 285 ff., Rolland, Recueil, etc., IV, 43, No 196. Again, ‘La Rondinella,’ Kopisch, Agrumi, p. 80, 1837; ‘La Visita,’ Wolf, Volkslieder aus Venetien, p. 8; ‘La Rondine importuna,’ Ferraro, C. p. monferrini, p. 75, No 54; ‘Il Furto amoroso’ Gianandrea, C. p. marchigiani, p. 274; ‘La Rondinella,’ Archivio, VII, 401, No 6. The treacherous or troublesome bird is in French the lark, in one case the cock; in Italian the swallow.
This piece is a variety of the aube (concerning which species see Jeanroy, Les Origines de la Poésie lyrique en France, the third chapter), but is none the less quite modern.
* * * * *
1 ‘O saw ye my father? or saw ye my mother? Or saw ye my true-love John?’ ‘I saw not your father, I saw not your mother, But I saw your true-love John.
2 ‘It’s now ten at night, and the stars gie nae light, And the bells they ring ding, dang; He’s met wi some delay that causeth him to stay, But he will be here ere lang.’
3 The surly auld carl did naething but snarl, And Johny’s face it grew red; Yet, tho he often sighd, he neer a word replied Till all were asleep in bed.
4 Up Johny rose, and to the door he goes, And gently tirlëd the pin; The lassie taking tent unto the door she went, And she opend and let him in.
5 ‘And are ye come at last? and do I hold ye fast? And is my Johny true?’ ‘I hae nae time to tell, but sae lang’s I like mysell Sae lang will I love you.’
6 ‘Flee, flee up, my bonny grey cock, And craw whan it is day; Your neck shall be like the bonny beaten gold, And your wings of the silver grey.’
7 The cock prov’d false, and untrue he was, For he crew an hour oer soon; The lassie thought it day when she sent her love away, And it was but a blink of the moon
* * * * *
#a.#
4^1. MS. Then up.
5^4. Ed. 1776, sall I.
#b.#
1^1. Saw you my father? Saw you my mother.
1^2. Saw you.
1^{3,4}. He told his only dear that he soon would be here, But he to another is gone.
2^{1,2}==1^{3,4}.
2^3. has met with ... which has caused.
2^4. here anon.
3. Wanting.
4^1. Then John he up arose.
4^2. And he twirld, he twirld at.
4^3. lassie took the hint and to the.
4^4. she let her true love in.
5. Wanting.
6^1. Fly up, fly up.
6^3. Your breast shall be of the beaming gold.
7^1. cock he.
7^2. crowd an hour too soon.
7^3. day, so she.
7^4. it prov’d but the.
Notes and Queries, I, xii, 227:
6^2. But crow not until it be day.
6^3. And your breast shall be made of the burnishd gold.
249
AULD MATRONS
‘Auld Matrons,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 238; Motherwell’s MS., p. 585, with the title
‘Love Annie.’
Willie tirls at Annie’s bower-door and is admitted. After the exchange of familiar formulas, Willie expresses apprehension of “Matrons,” an old woman who is sitting by the kitchen-fire. Annie says there is no occasion to mind the old woman; she has not walked for seven years. But while the lovers are occupied with endearments the old woman makes speed to the sheriff, and informs him that Willie is with his daughter. The sheriff, guided by Matrons, goes to the bower, with men in mail. Annie hears the bridles ring, and wakens Willie. There is shooting of arrows and fire is set to the bower (cf. st. 17 and st. 33 of No 116). Willie maintains himself with spirit, but is so hard pressed that he is fain to blow his horn for his brother John, who is lying in Ringlewood. John wounds fifty and fifteen with his first shot, and with the next strikes out the sheriff’s eyes. The sheriff orders a retreat, and threatens, very illogically, to burn the old woman.
This piece was made by some one who had acquaintance with the first fit of ‘Adam Bell.’ The anonymous ‘old wife’ becomes ‘auld Matrons;’ Inglewood, Ringlewood. The conclusion is in imitation of the rescues in Robin Hood ballads. Stanzas 2–5 are hacknied commonplaces.
It is not considerate of Willie to take a foot-groom with him when he goes to pass a night at the bower of an unprovided seamstress, though the seamstress be a gentlewoman and the daughter of a sheriff. William of Cloudesly did not so. That the sheriff’s unmarried daughter should be living apart from her father is unusual, but a separate establishment was probably a necessity in Kelso for a gentlewoman who had ‘her living by the seam.’
* * * * *
1 My love she is a gentlewoman, Has her living by the seam; I kenna how she is provided This night for me and my foot-groom.
2 He is gane to Annie’s bower-door, And gently tirled at the pin: ‘Ye sleep, ye wake, my love Annie, Ye’ll rise and lat your true-love in.’
3 Wi her white fingers lang and sma She gently lifted up the pin; Wi her arms lang and bent She kindly caught sweet Willie in.
4 ‘O will ye go to cards or dice? Or will ye go to play? Or will ye go to a well made bed, And sleep a while till day?’
5 ‘I winna gang to cards nor dice, Nor yet will I to play; But I will gang to a well made bed, And sleep a while till day.
6 ‘My love Annie, my dear Annie, I would be at your desire; But wae mat fa the auld Matrons, As she sits by the kitchen fire!’
7 ‘Keep up your heart, Willie,’ she said, ‘Keep up your heart, dinna fear; It’s seven years, and some guid mair, Sin her foot did file the flear.’
8 They hadna kissd nor love clapped, As lovers when they meet, Till up it raise the auld Matrons, Sae well’s she spread her feet.
9 O wae mat fa the auld Matrons, Sae clever’s she took the gate! And she’s gaen ower yon lang, lang hill, Knockd at the sheriff’s yate.
10 ‘Ye sleep, ye wake, my lord?’ she said; ‘Are ye not your bower within? There’s a knight in bed wi your daughter, I fear she’s gotten wrang.’
11 ‘Ye’ll do ye down thro Kelso town, Waken my wall-wight men; And gin ye hae your wark well dune I’ll be there at command.’
12 She’s done her down thro Kelso town, Wakend his wall-wight men; But gin she had her wark well done He was there at command.
13 He had his horse wi corn fodderd, His men armd in mail; He gae the Matrons half a merk To show them ower the hill.
14 Willie sleepd, but Annie waked Till she heard their bridles ring; Then tapped on her love’s shoulder, And said, Ye’ve sleepit lang.
15 ‘O save me, save me, my blessd lady, Till I’ve on my shooting-gear; I dinna fear the king himsell, Tho he an’s men were here.’
16 Then they shot in, and Willie out, The arrows graz’d his brow; The maid she wept and tore her hair, Says, This can never do.
17 Then they shot in, and he shot out, The bow brunt Willie’s hand; But aye he kissd her ruby lips, Said, My dear, thinkna lang.
18 He set his horn to his mouth, And has blawn loud and shrill, And he’s calld on his brother John, In Ringlewood he lay still.
19 The first an shot that Lord John shot, He wound fifty and fifteen; The next an shot that Lord John shot, He ca’d out the sheriff’s een.
20 ‘O some o you lend me an arm, Some o you lend me twa; And they that came for strife this day, Take horse, ride fast awa.
21 ‘But wae mat fa yon, auld Matrons, An ill death mat ye die! I’ll burn you on yon high hill-head, Blaw your ashes in the sea.’
* * * * *
2^3. Ye sleep ye, wake ye: cf. 10^1.
21^2: All ill.
21^3: And burn. Motherwell, I’ll.
250
HENRY MARTYN
#A.# #a, b.# ‘Henry Martyn;’ taken down from recitation, by the Rev. S. Baring-Gould.
#B.# #a.# A broadside, Catnach, Seven Dials. #b.# ‘Henry Martin,’ Kidson, Traditional Tunes, p. 31. #c.# The same, p. 30.
#C.# ‘Robin Hood,’ Motherwell’s MS., p. 660.
#D.# [‘Andrew Bodee’], from New Hampshire, U. S. A., communicated by Mr George M. Richardson; two stanzas.
A copy edited from #A#, #B a#, with the addition of one stanza for a “snapper,” is printed in Baring-Gould and Sheppard’s Songs and Ballads of the West, No 53. Four traditional versions were obtained by Mr Baring-Gould.
Three brothers in Scotland cast lots to determine which of them shall rob on the sea to maintain them. The lot falls on the youngest, Henry Martyn, #A#, #B#; Robin Hood, #C#; Andrew Bodee, #D#. The pirate meets and stops an English ship the very first day (third, #A b#; fifth, #B#, #C#). There is a brisk fight, and the English ship is sunk by shot, #A#, #B#. She is plundered and then scuttled, #C#. In #A a#, Henry Martyn gets a deep wound and falls by the mast.
The ballad must have sprung from the ashes of ‘Andrew Barton,’ of which name Henry Martyn would be no extraordinary corruption. Only one copy, #A a#, preserves the trait of Barton’s death, an incident not quite in keeping with the rest of the story of the new ballad.
Robin Hood, #C#, is always at the service of any ballad-monger who wants a name for his hero. But it will be remembered that he is credited with taking a French ship in ‘The Noble Fisherman,’ No 148, and that is enough to explain his appearance here. ‘Andrew Bodee’ may just conceivably be a corruption of Andrew Wood, who displaces Patrick Spens in two versions of No 58 (#A b#, #D#). Motherwell knew of a copy in which the hero was called Roberton: MS., p. 660.
* * * * *
A
Taken down by the Rev. S. Baring-Gould. #a.# From Matthew Baker, an old cripple, Lew Down, Devon. #b.# From Roger Luxton, an old man at Halwell, North Devon.
1 In merry Scotland, in merry Scotland There lived brothers three; They all did cast lots which of them should go A robbing upon the salt sea,
2 The lot it fell on Henry Martyn, The youngest of the three; That he should go rob on the salt, salt sea, To maintain his brothers and he.
3 He had not a sailed a long winter’s night, Nor yet a short winter’s day, Before that he met with a lofty old ship, Come sailing along that way.
4 O when she came by Henry Martyn, ‘I prithee now, let us go!’ ‘O no! God wot, that, that will I not, O that will I never do.
5 ‘Stand off! stand off!’ said Henry Martyn, ‘For you shall not pass by me; For I am a robber all on the salt seas, To maintain us brothers three.
6 ‘How far, how far,’ cries Henry Martyn, ‘How far do you make it?’ said he; ‘For I am a robber all on the salt seas, To maintain us brothers three.’
7 For three long hours they merrily fought, For hours they fought full three; At last a deep wound got Henry Martyn, And down by the mast fell he.
8 ’Twas broadside to a broadside then, And a rain and hail of blows, But the salt sea ran in, ran in, ran in, To the bottom then she goes.
9 Bad news, bad news for old England, Bad news has come to the town, For a rich merchant’s vessel is cast away, And all her brave seamen drown.
10 Bad news, bad news through London street, Bad news has come to the king, For all the brave lives of the mariners lost, That are sunk in the watery main.
* * * * *
B
#a.# A broadside, Catnach, Seven Dials. #b.# Kidson, Traditional Tunes, p. 31, 1891; from fishermen at Flamborough, Yorkshire. #c.# Kidson, etc., p. 30; “sung by a very old woman ... about ninety years ago.”
1 There was three brothers in merry Scotland, In merry Scotland there were three, And each of these brothers they did cast lots, To see which should rob the salt sea.
2 Then this lot did fall on young Henry Martyn, The youngest of these brothers three, So now he’s turnd robber all on the salt seas, To maintain his two brothers and he.
3 He had not saild one long winter’s night, One cold winter’s night before day, Before he espied a rich merchant-ship, Come bearing straight down that way.
4 ‘Who are you? Who are you?’ said Henry Martyn, ‘Or how durst thou come so nigh?’ ‘I’m a rich merchant-ship for old England bound, If you please, will you let me pass by.’
5 ‘O no! O no!’ cried Henry Martyn, ‘O no! that never can be, Since I have turnd robber all on the salt seas, To maintain my two brothers and me.
6 ‘Now lower your topsails, you alderman bold, Come lower them under my lee;’ Saying, ‘I am resolved to pirate you here, To maintain my two brothers and me.’
7 Then broadside to broadside to battle they went For two or three hours or more; At last Henry Martyn gave her a death-wound, And down to the bottom went she.
8 Bad news, bad news to England has come, Bad news I will tell to you all, ’Twas a rich merchant-ship to England was bound, And most of her merry men drownd.
* * * * *
C
Motherwell’s MS., p. 660; from the recitation of Alexander Macdonald, coal-heaver, Barkip, parish of Dalry, Ayr; a song of his mother’s, a native of Ireland.
1 There were three brothers in bonnie Scotland, In bonnie Scotland lived they, And they cuist kevels themsells amang, Wha sould gae rob upon the salt sea.
2 The lot it fell upon bold Robin Hood, The youngest brither of the hale three: ‘O, I sall gae rob upon the salt sea, And it’s all to mauntain my two brothers and me.’
3 They hadna sailed a lang winter night, A lang winter night scarselie, Till they were aware of a tall, tall ship, Coming sailin down under the lee.
4 ‘O where are you bound for, my bonnie ship?’ Bold Robin Hood he did cry; ‘O I’m a bold merchantman, for London bound, And I pray you, good sir, let us by.’
5 ‘O no! O no!’ said bold Robin Hood, ‘O no such thing may be; For I will gae in and plunder your ship, And your fair bodies I’ll drown in the sea.’
6 O he has gone in and plundered their ship, And holes in her bottom bored three; The water came in so thick and so fast That down, down to the bottom gade she.
7 Bad news, bad news to old England is gone, Bad news to our king, old Henrie, That his merchant-goods were taken on board, And thirty-five seamen drownd in the sea.
* * * * *
D
Communicated by Mr George M. Richardson, as learned by a lady in northern New Hampshire more than fifty years ago from an aged aunt.
1 Three loving brothers in Scotland dwelt, Three loving brothers were they, And they cast lots to see which of the three Should go robbing all oer the salt sea, salt sea, Should go robbing all oer the salt sea.
2 The lot it fell to Andrew Bodee, The youngest of the three, That he should leave the other two, And go robbing all oer the salt sea.
* * * * *
#A. b.#
3^1. a sailed three winter’s nights.
3^2. When a little before the day.
3^3. He spied the king his gay gallant ship.
4. Wanting.
5. ‘Stand off! Stand off!’ the captain he cried, ‘The life-guards they are aboard; My cannons are loaden with powder and shot, And every man hath a sword.’
7. They merrily fought for three long hours, They fought for hours full three, And many a blow dealt many a wound, As they fought on the salt, salt sea.
8. ’Twas a broadside to a broadside then, And at it the which should win; A shot in the gallant ship bored a hole, And then did the water rush in.
9. Wanting.
10^3. of the life-guards.
10^4. O the tidings be sad that I bring.
#B. b.#
1 In Scotland there lived three brothers of late, In Scotland there lived brothers three; Now the youngest cast lots with the other two, Which should go rob on the salt sea.
2 The lot it did fall to bold Henry Martin, The youngest of all the three, And he had to turn robber all on the salt seas, To maintain his two brothers and he.
3 He had not been sailing past a long winter’s night, Past a long winter’s night before day, Before he espied a lofty fine ship Come sailing all on the salt sea.
4 ‘O where are you bound for?’ cried Henry Martin, ‘O where are you bound for?’ cried he; ‘I’m a rich-loaded ship bound for fair England, I pray you to let me pass free.’
5 ‘O no! O no!’ cried Henry Martin, ‘O no! that can never be, Since I have turned robber all on the salt sea, To maintain my two brothers and me.
6 ‘Heave down your main tack, likewise your main tie, And lig yourself under my lee; For your rich glowing gold I will take it away, And your fair bodies drown in the salt sea.’
7 Then broadside to broadside they merrily fought, For fully two hours or three, When by chance Henry Martin gave her a broadside, And right down to the bottom went she.
8 Bad news, bad news unto old England, Bad news I tell unto thee; For your rich glowing gold is all wasted away, And your mariners are drownd in the salt sea.
#c.#
1 There lived three brothers in merry Scotland, In merry Scotland lived brothers three, And they did cast lots which should rob on the sea, To maintain his two brothers and he.
2 And the lot it did light on Henry Martin, The youngest of all the brothers three, And he went a roaming on the salt sea, To maintain his two brothers and he.
3 And when they had sailëd five days and more On a rich merchant-ship coming down they then bore, As he went a roaming on the salt sea, To maintain his two brothers and he.
4 The rich merchant-ship got wounded by he, And right down to the bottom of the salt sea went she, As he went a roaming on the salt sea, To maintain his two brothers and he.
#B. c.#
1^2. three brothers.
#C.#
1^4. sould may possibly be wuld.
2^3, 4^1, 6^1. Oh.
251
LANG JOHNNY MORE
‘Lang Johnny Moir,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 248.
‘Lang Johnny More,’ Christie’s Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 44, is epitomized from Buchan, “with a few alterations from the way the editor has heard it sung.” The variations are absolutely of no account, as in other cases in which Christie has used this phrase.
Johnny More, a youth fourteen feet tall and three yards round the waist, goes to London to bear the king’s banner. He falls in love with the king’s daughter, and she with him, and the king locks the lady up in her chamber and swears that he will hang the Scot. Johnny laughs at the hanging; but the English give him laudanum, and when he wakes he finds his jaws and hands in iron bands and his feet in fetters. He sends a boy with a letter asking his uncle to come to his aid, and to bring with him Jock o Noth. These champions, ‘twa grizly ghosts to see,’ have three feet between their brows and three yards between their shoulders. Coming to London they find the gates locked, because, as they learn from a keeper, a Scot is to be hanged that morn. The keeper declining to open the gates, Jock o Noth drives in three yards of the wall with his foot. Johnny More is standing with the rope round his neck, ready to be turned off. Though the portentous pair have a giant’s strength, they are quite too superior to use it like a giant; they tell Johnny that there is no help for him if he has been guilty of a heinous crime. Learning that his only crime is loving a gay lady, they require that his sword shall be given back to him, then go before the king and demand the lady; they have come to her wedding. Take her, says the king. I never thought to see such men. Jock of Noth could have brought a man thrice three times bigger, if he had supposed that his own size would cause such astonishment. Any way, says the craven king, the boy that took the message shall be hanged. In that case, replies Jock, we shall attend the burial and see that you get your reward. The king yields everything. Johnny More calls for a priest to join him and his love; the king for a clerk to seal the tocher. Johnny is rich, and spurns tocher. Auld Johnny More, Young Johnny More, Jock o Noth and the boy go off with the lady.
This ballad has been referred to under No 99, II, 378, as perhaps an imitation, and in fact almost a parody, of ‘Johnie Scot.’ In No 99 John is the little Scot; here he is the muckle Scot, stanza 6 (Gaelic mor==big), and his helpmates, as well as he, are of gigantic size. Excepting in this and one other particular, the stories are materially the same. In both Johnie goes to England to bear the king’s banner; a love-affair ensues between him and the king’s daughter; the king puts his daughter into confinement, and threatens to hang Johnie, but in the end is constrained to give him his daughter; Johnie calls for a priest to marry him and the princess, the king calls for a clerk to arrange the tocher; Johnie refuses tocher, and goes off with his love or bride.
In No 99 Johnie, who has escaped, comes to the rescue of the princess with a redoubtable force; in this ballad Johnie is made prisoner, and sends for his uncle and another giant to come to his help. Their monstrous dimensions make them, for ballad-purposes, fairly equivalent to the five hundred men who accompany Johnie in No 99.
Some versions of No 99, as already remarked, have borrowed features from this ballad. Auld Johnie and Jock o Noth are presented here, stanza 21, as twa grizly ghosts to see, and their brows are three feet apart, their shoulders three yards; and so with the champion in #A#, #H#, #L#, of No 99.
Quite curiously, the hero of the Breton ballad which resembles ‘Johnie Scot’ is described as a giant (we must suppose on traditionary authority) in the title of two copies.
Auchindoir and Rhynie (parishes) are in the west of Aberdeenshire, north of the Don. Noth is a considerable hill in the latter.
* * * * *
1 There lives a man in Rynie’s land, Anither in Auchindore, The bravest lad amo them a’ Was lang Johnny Moir.
2 Young Johnny was an airy blade, Fu sturdy, stout, and strang; The sword that hang by Johnny’s side Was just full ten feet lang.
3 Young Johnny was a clever youth, Fu sturdy, stout, and wight, Just full three yards around the waist, And fourteen feet in hight.
4 But if a’ be true they tell me now, And a’ be true I hear, Young Johnny’s on to Lundan gane, The king’s banner to bear.
5 He hadna been in fair Lundan But twalmonths twa or three Till the fairest lady in a’ Lundan Fell in love wi young Johnny.
6 This news did sound thro Lundan town, Till it came to the king That the muckle Scot had fa’in in love Wi his daughter, Lady Jean.
7 Whan the king got word o that, A solemn oath sware he, This weighty Scot sall strait a rope, And hanged he shall be.
8 When Johnny heard the sentence past, A light laugh then gae he: ‘While I hae strength to wield my blade, Ye darena a’ hang me.’
9 The English dogs were cunning rogues; About him they did creep, And gae him draps o lodomy That laid him fast asleep.
10 Whan Johnny wakend frae his sleep A sorry heart had he; His jaws and hands in iron bands, His feet in fetters three.
11 ‘O whar will I get a little wee boy Will work for meat and fee, That will rin on to my uncle, At the foot of Benachie?’
12 ‘Here am I, a little wee boy Will work for meat and fee, That will rin on to your uncle, At the foot of Benachie.’
13 ‘Whan ye come whar grass grows green, Slack your shoes and rin; And whan ye come whar water’s strong, Ye’ll bend your bow and swim.
14 ‘And whan ye come to Benachie Ye’ll neither chap nor ca; Sae well’s ye’ll ken auld Johnny there, Three feet abeen them a’.
15 ‘Ye’ll gie to him this braid letter, Seald wi my faith and troth, And ye’ll bid him bring alang wi him The body Jock o Noth.’
16 Whan he came whar grass grew green, He slackt his shoes and ran; And whan he came whar water’s strong He bent his bow and swam.
17 And whan he came to Benachie Did neither chap nor ca; Sae well’s he kent auld Johnny there, Three feet abeen them a’.
18 ‘What news, what news, my little wee boy? Ye never were here before;’ ‘Nae news, nae news, but a letter from Your nephew, Johnny Moir.
19 ‘Ye’ll take here this braid letter, Seald wi his faith and troth, And ye’re bidden bring alang wi you The body Jock o Noth.’
20 Benachie lyes very low, The tap o Noth lyes high; For a’ the distance that’s between, He heard auld Johnny cry.
21 Whan on the plain these champions met, Twa grizly ghosts to see, There were three feet between their brows, And shoulders were yards three.
22 These men they ran ower hills and dales, And ower mountains high, Till they came on to Lundan town, At the dawn o the third day.
23 And whan they came to Lundan town The yetts were lockit wi bands, And wha were there but a trumpeter, Wi trumpet in his hands?
24 ‘What is the matter, ye keepers all? Or what’s the matter within That the drums do beat and bells do ring, And make sic dolefu din?’
25 ‘There’s naething the matter,’ the keeper said, ‘There’s naething the matter to thee, But a weighty Scot to strait the rope, And the morn he maun die.’
26 ‘O open the yetts, ye proud keepers, Ye’ll open without delay;’ The trembling keeper, smiling, said, ‘O I hae not the key.’
27 ‘Ye’ll open the yetts, ye proud keepers, Ye’ll open without delay, Or here is a body at my back Frae Scotland has brought the key.’
28 ‘Ye’ll open the yetts,’ says Jock o Noth, ‘Ye’ll open them at my call;’ Then wi his foot he has drove in Three yards braid o the wall.
29 As they gaed in by Drury Lane, And down by the town’s hall, And there they saw young Johnny Moir Stand on their English wall.
30 ‘Ye’re welcome here, my uncle dear, Ye’re welcome unto me; Ye’ll loose the knot, and slack the rope, And set me frae the tree.’
31 ‘Is it for murder, or for theft? Or is it for robberie? If it is for ony heinous crime, There’s nae remeid for thee.’
32 ‘It’s nae for murder, nor for theft, Nor yet for robberie; A’ is for the loving a gay lady They’re gaun to gar me die.’
33 ‘O whar’s thy sword,’ says Jock o Noth, ‘Ye brought frae Scotland wi thee? I never saw a Scotsman yet But coud wield a sword or tree.’
34 ‘A pox upo their lodomy, On me had sic a sway Four o their men, the bravest four, They bore my blade away.’
35 ‘Bring back his blade,’ says Jock o Noth, ‘And freely to him it gie, Or I hae sworn a black Scot’s oath I’ll gar five million die.
36 ‘Now whar’s the lady?’ says Jock o Noth, ‘Sae fain I woud her see;’ ‘She’s lockd up in her ain chamber, The king he keeps the key.’
37 So they hae gane before the king, With courage bauld and free; Their armour bright cast sic a light That almost dim’d his ee.
38 ‘O whar’s the lady?’ says Jock o Noth, ‘Sae fain as I woud her see; For we are come to her wedding, Frae the foot o Benachie.’
39 ‘O take the lady,’ said the king, ‘Ye welcome are for me; I never thought to see sic men, Frae the foot o Benachie.’
40 ‘If I had kend,’ said Jock o Noth, ‘Ye’d wonderd sae muckle at me, I woud hae brought ane larger far By sizes three times three.
41 ‘Likewise if I had thought I’d been Sic a great fright to thee, I’d brought Sir John o Erskine Park; He’s thretty feet and three.’
42 ‘Wae to the little boy,’ said the king, ‘Brought tidings unto thee! Let all England say what they will, High hangëd shall he be.’
43 ‘O if ye hang the little wee boy Brought tidings unto me, We shall attend his burial, And rewarded ye shall be.’
44 ‘O take the lady,’ said the king, ‘And the boy shall be free;’ ‘A priest, a priest,’ then Johnny cried, ‘To join my love and me.’
45 ‘A clerk, a clerk,’ the king replied, ‘To seal her tocher wi thee;’ Out it speaks auld Johnny then, These words pronounced he:
46 ‘I want nae lands and rents at hame, I’ll ask nae gowd frae thee; I am possessd o riches great, Hae fifty ploughs and three; Likewise fa’s heir to ane estate At the foot o Benachie.
47 ‘Hae ye ony masons in this place, Or ony at your call, That ye may now send some o them To build your broken wall?’
48 ‘Yes, there are masons in this place, And plenty at my call; But ye may gang frae whence ye came, Never mind my broken wall.’
49 They’ve taen the lady by the hand And set her prison-free; Wi drums beating, and fifes playing, They spent the night wi glee.
50 Now auld Johnny Moir, and young Johnny Moir, And Jock o Noth, a’ three, The English lady, and little wee boy, Went a’ to Benachie.
* * * * *
27^4. hae.
252
THE KITCHIE-BOY
#A.# Skene MS., p. 89.
#B.# ‘Earl Richard’s Daughter,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 145.
#C.# ‘Bonny Foot-Boy,’ Alexander Fraser Tytler’s Brown MS., No 7.
#D.# ‘The Kitchie-Boy,’ Harris MS., fol. 21.
#E.# ‘Willie, the Kitchie-Boy,’ Joseph Robertson’s Note-Book, ‘Adversaria,’ p. 88.
A lady of birth falls in love with her father’s kitchen-boy (foot-boy, #C#). She makes her passion known to him. He begs for secrecy, for her father would hang him; this is quite too likely, and she would be sent to a nunnery. The danger quickens her wits: she will send him off in a fine ship, and he can come back ‘like some earl or baron’s son’ and marry her (#C#). Being well provided with gold, her mother’s legacy, she has no difficulty in carrying out her plan; a very noble ship is provided, and she gives Willie (#B#, #C#, #E#) a ring to mind him of her. She warns him, #C# 8, #E# 13, that there are pressing reasons why he should not stay away very long. After a voyage of from three weeks to twelve months, Willie lands at London, #A#, #E#; in Spain, #B#, #C#, #D#. A lady, looking over her castle-wall, sees the ship coming in, and goes down to the shore with her maries to invite the master to dine. The master excuses himself; she asks him if he can fancy her; the woman he loves is far over the sea; the fairest woman in Scotland would break her heart if he should not return to her. The Spanish (or English) lady offers him a rich ring, to wear for her sake; he has a ring on his finger which is far dearer than any she could give him. He sails homeward; the lady’s father sees the ship coming in, and is as much impressed as his daughter could desire; he thinks some man of mark must be aboard, and tells his daughter to busk herself, for he means to ask the squire or lord to dine; he would give all his rents to have this same marry his daughter. Willie blackens or paints or masks or veils his face, and goes with the father to the castle. He asks the lady if she can fancy him; her father asks her if she will marry this lord, #C#. The man is far over sea that shall have her love, she replies. Willie hands her the ring which she had given him. Gat ye that by sea? or gat ye that by land? or gat ye it on the Spanish coast upon a dead man’s hand? He gat it on a drowned man’s hand. Alas! she cries, my true-love Willie! Upon this, Willie reveals himself. The father calls for a priest, little knowing that this lord was his own kitchen-boy.
The ballad is a modern “adaptation” of ‘King Horn,’ No 17, from which #A# 33, 34, #B# 47, #D# 7, 8, are taken outright. In the particular of the hero’s having his choice of two women it is more like the gest of ‘King Horn,’ or ‘Horn Childe and Maiden Rimnild;’ but an independent invention of the Spanish lady is not beyond the humble ability of the composer of ‘The Kitchie-Boy.’
* * * * *
A
Skene MS., p. 89; taken down in the north of Scotland, 1802–3.
1 There was a lady fair, An een a lady of birth an fame, She eyed her father’s kitchen-boy, The greater was her shame.
2 She could never her love reveal, Nor to him talk, But in the forest wide an brade, Where they were wont to walk.
3 It fell ance upon a day Her father gaed frae home, And she sent for the kitchen-boy To her own room.
4 ‘Canna ye fancy me, Willie? Canna ye fancy me? By a’ the lords I ever saw There is nane I loo but ye.’
5 ‘O latna this be kent, lady, O latna this be . . . , For gin yer father got word of this I vou he’d gar me die.’
6 ‘Yer life shall no be taen, Willie, Yer life sal na be taen; I wad er loss my ain heart’s blood Or thy body gat wrang.’
7 Wi her monny fair speeches She made the boy bold, Till he began to kiss an clap, An on her sine lay hold.
8 They hadna kissed an love claped, As lovers whan they meet, . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
9 ‘The master-cook he will on me call, An answered he man be; An it wer kent I war in bower wi thee, I fear they wad gar me die.’
10 ‘The master-cook may on ye call, But answerd he will never be, . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
11 ‘For I hae three coffers fu o goud, Yer eyen did never see, An I will build a bonny ship for my love, An set her to the sea, And sail she east or sail she wast The ship sal be fair to see.’
12 She has built a bonny ship, And set her to the sea; The topmasts war o the red goud, The sails of tafetie.
13 She gae him a gay goud ring, . . . . . . . To mind him on a gay lady That ance bear love to him.
14 The day was fair, the ship was rare, Whan that swain set to sea; Whan that day twal-moth came and gaed, At London landed he.
15 A lady looked our the castle-wa, Beheld the day gae down, And she beheld that bonny ship Come hailing to the town.
16 ‘Come here, come here, my maries a’, Ye see na what I see; The bonniest ship is come to land Yer eyes did ever see.
17 ‘Gae busk ye, busk ye, my maries a’, Busk ye unco fine, Till I gae down to yon shore-side, To invite yon squar to dine.
18 ‘O ye come up, gay young squar, An take wi me a dine; Ye sal eat o the guid white loaf, An drink the claret wine.’
19 ‘I thank ye for yer bread, I thank ye for yer wine, I thank ye for yer courticie, But indeed I hanna time.’
20 ‘Canna ye fancy me?’ she says, ‘Canna ye fancy me? O a’ the lords an lairds I see There’s nane I fancy but ye.’
21 ‘The’r far awa fra me,’ he says, ‘The’r clean ayont the sea, That has my heart in hand, An my love ae sal be.’
22 ‘Here is a guid goud ring, . . . . . . It will mind ye on a gay lady That ance bare love to ye.’
23 ‘I ha a ring on my finger I loe thrice as well as thine, Tho yours were o the guid red goud An mine but simple tin.’
24 The day was fair, the ship was rare, Whan that squar set to sea; Whan that day twal-month came an gaed, At hame again landed he.
25 The lady’s father looked our castle-wa, To see the day gae down, An he beheld that bonny ship Come hailing to the town.
26 ‘Come here, my daughter, Ye see na what I see; The bonniest ship is come to land My eyes did ever see.
27 ‘Gae busk ye, my dochter, G[a]e busk ye unco fine, An I’ll gae down to yon shore-side, To invite the squar to dine; I wad gie a’ my rents To hae ye married to him.’
28 ‘The’r far awa frae me,’ she says, ‘Far ayont the sea, That has my heart in hand An my love ai sal be.’
29 ‘O will ye come, ye gay hine squar, An take wi me a dine? Ye sal eat o the guid white bread, And drink the claret wine.’
30 ‘I thank ye for yer bread, I thank ye for yer wine, I thank ye for yer courticie, For indeed I hanna grait time.
31 ‘O canna ye fancy me?’ he says, ‘O canna ye fancy me? O a’ the ladys I eer did see There’s nane I loo by ye.’
32 ‘They are far awa fra me,’ she says, ‘The’r far ayont the sea, That has my heart in hand, An my love ay sall be.’
33 ‘Here it is, a gay goud ring, . . . . . . It will mind ye on a gay hin chil That ance bare love to ye.’
34 ‘O gat ye that ring on the sea sailing? Or gat ye it on the land? O gat ye it on the shore laying, On a drowned man’s hand?’
35 ‘I got na it on the sea sailing, I got na it on the land, But I got it on the shore lying, On a drowned man’s hand.
36 ‘O bonny was his cheek, An lovely was his face!’ ‘Allas!’ says she, ‘it is my true-love Willie,’ . . . . . .
37 He turned him round about, An sweetly could he smile; She turned her round, says, My love Willie, How could ye me beguile?
38 ‘A priest! a priest!’ the old man cries, ‘An lat this twa married be:’ Little did the old man kin It was his ain kitchen-boy.
* * * * *
B
Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 145.
1 Earl Richard had but ae daughter, A maid o birth and fame; She loved her father’s kitchen-boy, The greater was her shame.
2 But she could neer her true-love see, Nor with him could she talk, In towns where she had wont to go, Nor fields where she could walk.
3 But it fell ance upon a day Her father went from home; She’s calld upon the kitchen boy To come and clean her room.
4 ‘Come sit ye down by me, Willie, Come sit ye down by me; There ‘s nae a lord in a’ the north That I can love but thee.’
5 ‘Let never the like be heard, lady, Nor let it ever be; For if your father get word o this He will gar hang me hie.’
6 ‘O ye shall neer be hangd, Willie, Your blude shall neer be drawn; I’ll lay my life in pledge o thine Your body’s neer get wrang.’
7 ‘Excuse me now, my comely dame, No langer here I’ll stay; You know my time is near expir’d, And now I must away.
8 ‘The master-cook will on me call, And answered he must be; If I am found in bower with thee, Great anger will there be.’
9 ‘The master-cook will on you call, But shall not answerd be; I’ll put you in a higher place Than any cook’s degree.
10 ‘I have a coffer full of gold, Another of white monie, And I will build a bonny ship, And set my love to sea.
11 ‘Silk shall be your sailing-clothes, Gold yellow is your hair, As white like milk are your twa hands, Your body neat and fair.’
12 This lady, with her fair speeches, She made the boy grow bold, And he began to kiss and clap, And on his love lay hold.
13 And she has built a bonny ship, Set her love to the sea, Seven score o brisk young men To bear him companie.
14 Then she’s taen out a gay gold ring, To him she did it gie: ‘This will mind you on the ladie, Willie, That’s laid her love on thee.’
15 Then he’s taen out a piece of gold, And he brake it in two: ‘All I have in the world, my dame, For love I give to you.’
16 Now he is to his bonny ship, And merrily taen the sea; The lady lay oer castle-wa, The tear blinded her ee.
17 They had not saild upon the sea A week but barely three When came a prosperous gale of wind, On Spain’s coast landed he.
18 A lady lay oer castle-wa, Beholding dale and down, And she beheld the bonny ship Come sailing to the town.
19 ‘Come here, come here, my maries a’, Ye see not what I see; For here I see the bonniest ship That ever saild the sea.
20 ‘In her there is the bravest squire That eer my eyes did see; All clad in silk and rich attire, And comely, comely’s he.
21 ‘O busk, O busk, my maries all, O busk and make ye fine; And we will on to yon shore-side, Invite yon squire to dine.
22 ‘Will ye come up to my castle Wi me and take your dine? And ye shall eat the gude white bread, And drink the claret wine.’
23 ‘I thank you for your bread, lady, I thank you for your wine; I thank you for your kind offer, But now I have not time.’
24 ‘I would gie all my land,’ she says, ‘Your gay bride were I she; And then to live on a small portion Contented I would be.’
25 ‘She’s far awa frae me, lady, She’s far awa frae me That has my heart a-keeping fast, And my love still she’ll be.’
26 ‘But ladies they are unconstant, When their loves go to sea, And she’ll be wed ere ye gae back; My love, pray stay wi me.’
27 ‘If she be wed ere I go back, And prove sae false to me, I shall live single all my life; I’ll neer wed one but she.’
28 Then she’s taen out a gay gold ring, And gae him presentlie: ‘'T will mind you on the lady, young man, That laid her love on thee.’
29 ‘The ring that’s on my mid-finger Is far dearer to me, Tho yours were o the gude red gold, And mine the metal free.’
30 He viewd them all, baith neat and small, As they stood on the shore, Then hoist the mainsail to the wind, Adieu, for evermore!
31 He had not saild upon the sea A week but barely three Until there came a prosperous gale, In Scotland landed he.
32 But he put paint upon his face, And oil upon his hair, Likewise a mask above his brow, Which did disguise him sair.
33 Earl Richard lay oer castle-wa, Beholding dale and down, And he beheld the bonny ship Come sailing to the town.
34 ‘Come here, come here, my daughter dear, Ye see not what I see; For here I see the bonniest ship That ever saild the sea.
35 ‘In her there is the bravest squire That eer my eyes did see; O busk, O busk, my daughter dear, Come here, come here, to me.
36 ‘O busk, O busk, my daughter dear, O busk, and make ye fine, And we will on to the shore-side, Invite yon squire to dine.’
37 ‘He’s far awa frae me, father, He’s far awa frae me Who has the keeping o my heart, And I’ll wed nane but he.’
38 ‘Whoever has your heart in hand, Yon lad’s the match for thee, And he shall come to my castle This day and dine wi me.
39 ‘Will ye come up to my castle With me and take your dine? And ye shall eat the gude white bread, And drink the claret wine.’
40 ‘Yes, I’ll come up to your castle With you and take my dine, For I would give my bonny ship Were your fair daughter mine.’
41 ‘I would give all my lands,’ he said, ‘That your bride she would be; Then to live on a small portion Contented would I be.’
42 As they gaed up from yon sea-strand And down the bowling-green, He drew the mask out-oer his face, For fear he should be seen.
43 He’s done him down from bower to bower, Likewise from bower to ha, And there he saw that lady gay, The flower out-oer them a’.
44 He’s taen her in his arms twa, And haild her courteouslie: ‘Excuse me, sir, there’s no strange man Such freedom use with me.’
45 Her father turnd him round about, A light laugh then gave he: ‘Stay, I’ll retire a little while, Perhaps you may agree.’
46 Now Willie’s taen a gay gold ring, And gave her presentlie; Says, Take ye that, ye lady fair, A love-token from me.
47 ‘O got ye’t on the sea sailing? Or got ye’t on the sand? Or got ye’t on the coast of Spain, Upon a dead man’s hand?’
48 ‘Fine silk it was his sailing-clothes, Gold yellow was his hair; It would hae made a hale heart bleed To see him lying there.
49 ‘He was not dead as I passd by, But no remeid could be; He gave me this token to bear Unto a fair ladie.
50 ‘And by the marks he has descryvd I’m sure that you are she; So take this token of free will, For him you’ll never see.’
51 In sorrow she tore her mantle, With care she tore her hair: ‘Now since I’ve lost my own true-love, I’ll neer love young men mair.’
52 He drew the mask from off his face, The lady sweetly smiled: ‘Awa, awa, ye fause Willie! How have you me beguiled?’
53 Earl Richard he went thro the ha, The wine-glass in his hand, But little thought his kitchen-boy Was heir oer a’ his land.
54 But this she kept within her heart, And never told to one Until nine months they were expir’d, That her young son came home.
55 She told it to her father dear; He said, Daughter, well won; You’ve married for love, not for gold, Your joys will neer be done.
* * * * *
C
Alexander Fraser Tytler’s Brown MS., No 7.
1 O there was a ladie, a noble ladie, She was a ladie of birth and fame, But she fell in love wi her father’s foot-boy, I wis she was the mair to blame.
2 A word of him she neer could get Till her father was a hunting gone; Then she calld on the bonny foot-boy To speak wi her in her bower alone.
3 Says, Ye ken you are my love, Willie, And that I am a ladie free, And there’s naething ye can ask, Willie, But at your bidding I maun be.
4 O the loving looks that ladie gave Soon made the bonny boy grow bold, And the loving words that ladie spake As soon on them he did lay hold.
5 She has taen a ring frae her white finger, And unto him she did it gie; Says, Wear this token for my sake, And keep it till the day you die.
6 ‘But shoud my father get word of this I fear we baith will have cause to rue, For to some nunnery I shoud be sent, And I fear, my love, he would ruin you.
7 ‘But here is a coffer of the good red gowd, I wot my mother left it to me; And wi it you’ll buy a bonny ship, And ye maun sail the raging sea; Then like some earl or baron’s son You can come back and marrie me.
8 ‘But stay not lang awa, Willie, O stay not lang across the fame, For fear your ladie shoud lighter be, Or your young son shoud want a name.’
9 He had not been o the sea sailling But till three months were come and gane, Till he has landed his bonny ship; It was upon the coast of Spain.
10 There was a ladie of high degree That saw him walking up and down; She fell in love wi sweet Willie, But she wist no how to make it known.
11 She has calld up her maries a’, Says, Hearken well to what I say; There is a young man in yon ship That has been my love this many a day.
12 ‘Now bear a hand, my maries a’, And busk me brave and make me fine, And go wi me to yon shore-side To invite that noble youth to dine.’
13 O they have buskit that ladie gay In velvet pall and jewels rare; A poor man might have been made rich Wi half the pearles they pat in her hair.
14 Her mantle was of gowd sae red, It glaned as far as ane coud see; Sweet Willie thought she had been the queen, And bowd full low and bent his knee.
15 She’s gard her maries step aside, And on sweet Willie sae did smile; She thought that man was not on earth But of his heart she could beguile.
16 Says, Ye maun leave your bonny ship And go this day wi me and dine, And you shall eat the baken meat, And you shall drink the Spanish wine.
17 ‘I canna leave my bonny ship, Nor go this day to dine wi thee, For a’ my sails are ready bent To bear me back to my ain countrie.’
18 ‘O gin you’d forsake your bonny ship And wed a ladie of this countrie, I would make you lord of a’ this town, And towns and castles twa or three.’
19 ‘Should I wed a ladie of this countrie, In sooth I woud be sair to blame, For the fairest ladie in fair Scotland Woud break her heart gin I gaed na hame.’
20 ‘That ladie may choose another lord, And you another love may choose; There is not a lord in this countrie That such a proffer could refuse.’
21 ‘O ladie, shoud I your proffer take, You’d soon yoursell have cause to rue, For the man that his first love forsakes Woud to a seccond neer prove true.’
22 She has taen a ring frae her white finger, It might have been a prince’s fee; Says, Wear this token for my sake, And give me that which now I see.
23 ‘Take back your token, ye ladie fair; This ring you see on my right hand Was gien me by my ain true-love, Before I left my native land.
24 ‘And tho yours woud buy it nine times oer I far more dearly prize my ain; Nor woud I make the niffer,’ he says, ‘For a’ the gowd that is in Spain.’
25 The ladie turnd her head away To dry the sat tears frae her eyne; She naething more to him did say But, I wish your face I neer had seen!
26 He has set his foot on good ship-board, The ladie waved her milk-white hand, The wind sprang up and filld his sails, And he quickly left the Spanish land.
27 He soon came back to his native strand, He langd his ain true-love to see; Her father saw him come to land, And took him some great lord to be.
28 Says, Will ye leave your bonny ship And come wi me this day to dine? And you shall eat the baken meat, And you shall drink the claret wine.
29 ‘O I will leave my bonny ship, And gladly go wi you to dine, And I woud gie thrice three thousand pounds That your fair daughter were but mine.’
30 ‘O gin ye will part wi your bonny ship And wed a ladie of this countrie, I will gie you my ae daughter, Gin she’ll consent your bride to be.’
31 O he has blaket his bonny face And closs tuckd up his yellow hair; His true-love met them at the yate, But she little thought her love was there.
32 ‘O will you marrie this lord, daughter, That I’ve brought hame to dine wi me? You shall be heir of a’ my lands, Gin you’ll consent his bride to be.’
33 She looked oer her left shoulder, I wot the tears stood in her eye; Says, The man is on the sea sailling That fair wedding shall get of me.
34 Then Willie has washd his bonny face, And he’s kaimd down his yellow hair; He took his true-love in his arms, And kindly has he kissd her there.
35 She’s looked in his bonny face, And thro her tears did sweetly smile, Then sayd, Awa, awa, Willie! How could you thus your love beguile?
36 She kept the secret in her breast, Full seven years she’s kept the same, Till it fell out at a christning-feast, And then of it she made good game.
37 And her father laughd aboon the rest, And said, My daughter, you’r nae to blame; For you’ve married for love, and no for land, So a’ my gowd is yours to claim.
* * * * *
D
Harris MS., fol. 21; from the recitation of Mrs Harris and others.
1 There lived a lady in the north O muckle birth an fame; She’s faun in love wi her kitchie-boy, The greater was her shame.
* * * * * *
2 ‘Maister cook, he will cry oot, An answered he maun be;’ . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
3 ‘I hae a coffer o ried gowd My mither left to me, An I will build a bonnie ship, And send her ower the sea, An you’ll come hame like lord or squire, An answered you maun be.’
4 She has biggit a bonnie ship, Sent her across the main, An in less than sax months an a day That ship cam back again.
5 ‘Go dress, go dress, my dochter Janet, Go dress, an mak you fine, An we’ll go doun to yon shore-side An bid yon lords to dine.’
6 He’s pued the black mask ower his face, Kaimed doun his yellow hair, A’ no to lat her father ken That ere he had been there.
* * * * * *
7 ‘Oh, got you that by sea sailin? Or got you that by land? Or got you that on Spanish coast, Upon a died man’s hand?’
8 ‘I got na that by sea sailin, I got na that by land; But I got that on Spanish coast, Upon a died man’s hand.’
9 He’s pued the black mask aff his face, Threw back his yellow hair, . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
10 ‘A priest, a priest,’ the lady she cried, ‘To marry my love an me;’ ‘A clerk, a clerk,’ her father cried, ‘To sign her tocher free.’
* * * * *
E
Joseph Robertson’s Note-Book “Adversaria,” p. 88; from tradition.
* * * * * *
1 And she has built a lofty ship, And set her to the main; The masts o her were o gude reed gowd, And the sails o silver clear.
2 ‘Ye winna bide three months awa When ye’ll return again, In case your lady lichter be, And your baby want the name.’
3 But the wind blew high, The mariners they did land at Lundin soon.
4 A lady sat on the castell-wa, Beheld baith dale and down, And there she saw this lofty ship, Comin sailin in the Downs.
5 ‘Look out, look out, my maidens a’, Ye seena what I see; For I do see as bonny a ship As ever sailed the sea, And the master o her’s the bonniest boy That ever my eyes did see.’
6 She’s taen her mantell her about, Her cane intill her han, And she’s away to the shore-side, Till invite the square to dine.
7 ‘O will ye come to our castell? Or will ye sup or dine?’ ‘O excuse me, madam,’ he said, ‘For I hae but little time.’
* * * * * *
8 The wind blew high, The mariners they did land at home again.
9 The old man sat in the castell-wa, Beholding dale and down, And there he spied this goodly ship Come sailin to the town.
10 ‘Look out, look out, my dauchter dear, Ye see not what I see; For I do see as bonny a ship As ever sailed the sea.
11 ‘And the master o her’s the bonniest boy That my eyes did ever see, And if I were a woman as I’m a man My husband he should be.’
12 ‘Haud far awa frae me, fader, Haud far awa frae me, For I never had a lad but ane, And he’s far awa at sea.
13 ‘There is a love-token atween us twa, It’ll be mair ere it be less, An aye the langer he bides awa It will the mair encreass.’
14 He’s taen his mantell him about, His cane intil his hand, And he’s awa to the shore-side, To invite the square to dine.
15 ‘O will ye come to our castle? Or will ye sup or dine?’ ‘Indeed I will, kind sir,’ he said, ‘Tho I’ve but little time.’
16 The lady sat on castle-wa, Beholding dale and down, But he’s put his veil upon his face, That she might not him ken.
* * * * * *
* * * * *
#A.#
Written in long couplets.
8^1. hadne.
22^4, 32^4. ance hane? Cf. 3^4.
23^2. I lee. 35^2. got no.
#B.#
11^2. yellow in.
#C.#
14^2. glaned. Glant, glent is probably intended. Glancd is less likely.
20^4. could. MS. possibly would.
#E.#
Before 1: “A lady falls in love with her father’s kitchie-boy when her father is absent, and to conceal him from him procures a ship and puts him to sea. Her father thinks he has run away.”
After 7: She kills herself.
After 16: Continued on page [ ]: but not continued.
253
THOMAS O YONDERDALE
#a.# Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 221.
#b.# Christie’s Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 96.
#b# is epitomized from #a#, with a few variations, mostly very trifling, as Christie had heard the ballad sung.
Thomas of Yonderdale gains Lady Maisry’s love and has a son by her. Overhearing some reproachful words one day as he passes her bower, he is touched, and promises to marry her after returning from a voyage, but while he is in a strange country wooes another woman. He dreams that Maisry stands by his bed upbraiding him for his inconstancy, and sends a boy to her to bring her to his wedding. Maisry comes, arrayed, as she had been directed, in noble style. The bride asks the boy who she may be, and is told that she is Thomas’s first love. Maisry asks Thomas why she was sent for: she is to be his wife. The nominal bride asks his will: she is to go home, with the comfort of being sent back in a coach, whereas she came on a hired horse! This ill-used, but not diffident, young woman proposes that Thomas shall give two thirds of his lands to his brother and make him marry her. Thomas refuses to divide his lands for any woman, and has no power over his brother. According to #b#, the discarded bride asks only a modest third of Thomas’s lands for the brother; Thomas promises to give a third to her, but disclaims, as in #a#, his competency to arrange a marriage for his brother.
This looks like a recent piece, fabricated, with a certain amount of cheap mortar, from recollections of ‘Fair Annie,’ No 62, ‘Lord Thomas and Fair Annet,’ No 73, and ‘Young Beichan,’ No 53.
* * * * *
1 Lady Maisry lives intill a bower, She never wore but what she would; Her gowns were o the silks sae fine, Her coats stood up wi bolts o gold.
2 Mony a knight there courted her, And gentlemen o high degree, But it was Thomas o Yonderdale That gaind the love o this ladie.
3 Now he has hunted her till her bower, Baith late at night and the mid day, But when he stole her virgin rose Nae mair this maid he would come nigh.
4 But it fell ance upon a time Thomas her bower he walkëd by; There he saw her Lady Maisry, Nursing her young son on her knee.
5 ‘O seal on you, my bonny babe, And lang may ye my comfort be! Your father passes by our bower, And now minds neither you nor me.’
6 Now when Thomas heard her speak, The saut tear trinkled frae his ee; To Lady Maisry’s bower he went, Says, Now I’m come to comfort thee.
7 ‘Is this the promise ye did make Last when I was in your companie? You said before nine months were gane Your wedded wife that I should be.’
8 ‘If Saturday be a bonny day, Then, my love, I maun sail the sea; But if I live for to return, O then, my love, I’ll marry thee.’
9 ‘I wish Saturday a stormy day, High and stormy be the sea, Ships may not sail, nor boats row, But gar true Thomas stay wi me.’
10 Saturday was a bonny day, Fair and leesome blew the wind; Ships did sail, and boats did row, Which had true Thomas to unco ground.
11 He hadna been on unco ground A month, a month but barely three, Till he has courted anither maid, And quite forgotten Lady Maisry.
12 Ae night as he lay on his bed, In a dreary dream dreamed he That Maisry stood by his bedside, Upbraiding him for’s inconstancie.
13 He’s calld upon his little boy, Says, Bring me candle, that I see; And ye maun gang this night, [my] boy, Wi a letter to a gay ladie.
14 ‘It is my duty you to serve, And bring you coal and candle-light, And I would rin your errand, master, If’t were to Lady Maisry bright.
15 ‘Tho my legs were sair I coudna gang, Tho the night were dark I coudna see, Tho I should creep on hands and feet, I woud gae to Lady Maisry.’
16 ‘Win up, win up, my bonny boy, And at my bidding for to be; For ye maun quickly my errand rin, For it is to Lady Maisry.
17 ‘Ye’ll bid her dress in the gowns o silk, Likewise in the coats o cramasie; Ye’ll bid her come alang wi you, True Thomas’s wedding for to see.
18 ‘Ye’ll bid her shoe her steed before, And a’ gowd graithing him behind; On ilka tip o her horse mane, Twa bonny bells to loudly ring.
19 ‘And on the tor o her saddle A courtly bird to sweetly sing; Her bridle-reins o silver fine, And stirrups by her side to hing.’
20 She dressd her in the finest silk, Her coats were o the cramasie, And she’s awa to unco land, True Thomas’s wedding for to see.
21 At ilka tippet o her horse mane, Twa bonny bells did loudly ring, And on the tor o her saddle A courtly bird did sweetly sing.
22 The bells they rang, the bird he sang, As they rode in yon pleasant plain; Then soon she met true Thomas’s bride, Wi a’ her maidens and young men.
23 The bride she garned round about, ‘I wonder,’ said she, ‘who this may be? It surely is our Scottish queen, Come here our wedding for to see.’
24 Out it speaks true Thomas’s boy, ‘She maunna lift her head sae hie; But it’s true Thomas’s first love, Come here your wedding for to see.’
25 Then out bespake true Thomas’s bride, I wyte the tear did blind her ee; If this be Thomas’s first true-love, I’m sair afraid he’ll neer hae me.
26 Then in it came her Lady Maisry, And aye as she trips in the fleer, ‘What is your will, Thomas?’ she said, ‘This day, ye know, ye calld me here.’
27 ‘Come hither by me, ye lily flower, Come hither and set ye down by me, For ye’re the ane I’ve call’d upon, And ye my wedded wife maun be.’
28 Then in it came true Thomas’s bride, And aye as she trippd on the stane, ‘What is your will, Thomas?’ she said, ‘This day, ye know, ye calld me hame.’
29 ‘Ye hae come on hired horseback, But ye’se gae hame in coach sae free; For here’s the flower into my bower I mean my wedded wife shall be.’
30 ‘O ye will break your lands, Thomas, And part them in divisions three; Gie twa o them to your ae brother, And cause your brother marry me.’
31 ‘I winna break my lands,’ he said, ‘For ony woman that I see; My brother’s a knight o wealth and might, He’ll wed nane but he will for me.’
* * * * *
#b.#
1^4. And a’ stood.
2^1. And mony knight.
2^4. this gay.
8^3. return again.
10^1. And Saturday.
10^4. took true.
13^2. I may see.
13^3. my boy.
16^2. ye maun be.
24^3. ain first.
30^3. Gie ane.
31 ‘O I will break my lands,’ he said, ‘And ae third will I gie to thee; But my brother’s ane o wealth and might, And he’ll wed nane but he will for me.’
254
LORD WILLIAM, OR, LORD LUNDY
#A.# Motherwell’s MS., p. 361. ‘Sweet William,’ Motherwell’s Minstrelsy, p. 307.
#B.# ‘Lord Lundy,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 57.
#C.# ‘Lord William,’ Buchan’s MSS, II, 126; Dixon, Scottish Traditional Versions of Ancient Ballads, p. 57, Percy Society, vol. xvii.
Sweet William (Lord William’s son, or Lord William) and the Baillie’s daughter (Lord Lundy’s daughter) have been lovers: they have in fact been over-sea together, learning “some unco lair.” The young woman’s father recalls her from her studies abroad, and requires her to marry a Southland lord (the young prince of England). She will submit to her father’s will, though she had rather die. In #A# she sends a letter to William by a bird. The minister has begun the marriage-service, when the lover enters the church with a party of armed men and bids the bridegroom stand back; the bride shall join with him. The father fumes; would shoot William if he had a pistol, #A#; will give his daughter no dowry, #B#. William of course cares not the least for dowry; he has what he wants. He tells his ‘foremost man’ to lift his bride on her horse, and sends commendations to her mother.
#A# 4, #B# 10, 11, #C# 6, 7, may be borrowed from ‘Fair Janet,’ No 64, #G# 1, 2, II, 110.
* * * * *
A
Motherwell’s MS., p. 361; from the recitation of Agnes Lyle, an old woman of Kilbarchan.
1 Sweet William’s gone over seas, Some unco lair to learn, And our gude Bailie’s ae dochter Is awa to learn the same.
2 In one broad buke they learned baith, In one broad bed they lay; But when her father came to know He gart her come away.
3 ‘It’s you must marry that Southland lord, His lady for to be; It’s ye maun marry that Southland lord, Or nocht ye’ll get frae me.’
4 ‘I must marry that Southland lord, Father, an it be your will; But I rather it were my burial-day, My grave for to fill.’
5 She walked up, she walked down, Had none to make her moan, Nothing but the pretty bird Sat on the causey-stone.
6 ‘If thou could speak, wee bird,’ she says, ‘As weell as thou can flee, I would write a long letter To Will ayont the sea.’
7 ‘What thou wants wi Will,’ it says, ‘Thou’ll seal it with thy ring, Tak a thread o silk and anither o twine, About my neck will hing.’
8 What she wanted wi Willie She sealed it wi a ring, Took a thread of silk, another o twine, About its neck did hing.
9 This bird flew high, this bird flew low, This bird flew owre the sea, Until it entered the same room Wherein was Sweet Willie.
10 This bird flew high, this bird flew low, Poor bird, it was mistaen! It let the letter fa on Baldie’s breist, Instead of Sweet William.
11 ‘Here’s a letter, William,’ he says, ‘I’m sure it’s not to me; And gin the morn gin twelve o’clock Your love shall married be.’
12 ‘Come saddle to me my horse,’ he said, ‘The brown and a’ that’s speedie, And I’ll awa to Old England, To bring home my ladie.’
13 Awa he gaed, awa he rade, Awa wi mickle speed; He lichtit at every twa miles’ end, Lichtit and changed his steed.
14 When she entered the church-style, The tear was in her ee; But when she entered the church-door A blythe sicht did she see.
15 ‘O hold your hand, you minister, Hold it a little wee, Till I speak wi the bonnie bride, For she’s a friend to me.
16 ‘Stand off, stand off, you braw bridegroom, Stand off a little wee; Stand off, stand off, you braw bridegroom, For the bride shall join wi me.’
17 Up and spak the bride’s father, And an angry man was he; ‘If I had pistol, powther and lead, And all at my command, I would shoot thee stiff and dead In the place where thou dost stand.’
18 Up and spoke then Sweet William, And a blithe blink from his ee; ‘If ye neer be shot till I shoot you, Ye’se neer be shot for me.
19 ‘Come out, come out, my foremost man, And lift my lady on; Commend me all to my good-mother, At night when ye gang home.’
* * * * *
B
Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 57.
1 Lord William has but ae dear son, In this world had nae mair; Lord Lundie had but ae daughter, And he will hae nane but her.
2 They dressed up in maids’ array, And passd for sisters fair; With ae consent gaed ower the sea, For to seek after lear.
3 They baith did eat at ae braid board, In ae bed baith did lye; When Lord Lundie got word o that, He’s taen her soon away.
4 When Lord Lundie got word of that, An angry man was he; He wrote his daughter on great haste To return right speedilie.
5 When she looked the letter upon, A light laugh then gae she; But ere she read it till an end The tear blinded her ee.
6 ‘Bad news, bad news, my love Willie, Bad news is come to me; My father’s written a braid letter, Bids me gae speedilie.
7 ‘Set trysts, set trysts, my love Willie, Set trysts, I pray, wi me; Set trysts, set trysts, my love Willie, When will our wedding be.’
8 ‘On Wednesday, on Wednesday, The first that ever ye see; On Wednesday at twelve o’clock, My dear, I’ll meet wi thee.’
9 When she came to her father’s ha, He hailed her courteouslie; Says, I’ll forgie offences past, If now ye’ll answer me.
10 ‘Will ye marry yon young prince, Queen of England to be? Or will you marry Lord William’s son, Be loved by nane but he?’
11 ‘I will marry yon young prince, Father, if it be your will; But I woud rather I were dead and gane, My grave I woud win till.’
12 When she was in her saddle set, She skyred like the fire, To go her bridegroom for to meet, For whom she’d nae desire.
13 On every tippet o her horse mane There hang a siller bell, And whether the wind blew east or west They gae a sundry knell.
14 And when she came to Mary’s kirk She skyred like the fire; There her young bridegroom she did meet, For whom she’d nae desire.
15 She looked ower her left shoulder, The tear blinded her ee; But looking ower her right shoulder, A blythe sight then saw she.
16 There she saw Lord William’s son, And mony a man him wi, Wi targes braid and glittering spears All marching ower the lee.
17 The minister looked on a book Her marriage to begin: ‘If there is naething to be said, These two may join in ane.’
18 ‘O huly, huly, sir,’ she said, ‘O stay a little wee; I hae a friend to welcome yet That’s been a dear friend to me.’
19 O then the parson he spake out, A wise word then spake he; ‘You might hae had your friends welcomd Before ye’d come to me.’
20 Then in it came the bride’s first love, And mony a man him wi: ‘Stand back, stand back, ye jelly bridegroom, Bride, ye maun join wi me.’
21 Then out it speaks him Lord Lundie, An angry man was he; ‘Lord William’s son will hae my daughter Without leave askd of me.
22 ‘But since it’s sae that she will gang, And proved sae fause to thee, I’ll make a vow, and keep it true, Nae portion shall I gie.’
23 Then out it speaks the bride’s first love, And [a] light laugh then gae he; ‘I’ve got the best portion now, my lord, That ye can gie to me.
24 ‘Your gude red gold I value not, Nor yet your white monie; I hae her by the hand this day That’s far dearer to me.
25 ‘So gie the prince a coffer o gold When he gaes to his bed, And bid him clap his coffer o gold, And I’ll clap my bonny bride.’
* * * * *
C
Buchan’s MSS, II, 126.
1 Lord William has gane oer the sea For to seek after lear; Lord Lundie had but ae daughter, And he’d wed nane but her.
2 Upon a book they both did read, And in ae bed did ly: ‘But if my father get word of this, I’ll soon be taen away.’
3 ‘Your father’s gotten word of this, Soon married then ye’ll be; Set trysts, set trysts wi me, Janet, Set trysts, set trysts wi me.
4 ‘Set trysts, set trysts wi me, Janet, When your wedding-day’s to be; ‘On Saturday, the first that comes, Must be my wedding-day.’
5 ‘Bad news, bad news is come, Janet, Bad news is come to me; Your father’s gotten word of this, Soon married then ye’ll be.’
6 ‘O will ye marry the young prince, daughter, The queen of England to be? Or will ye marry Lord William, And die immediately?’
7 ‘O I will marry the young prince, father, Because it is your will; But I wish it was my burial-day, For my grave I could gang till.’
8 When they gaed in into the kirk, And ae seat they sat in, The minister took up the book, The marriage to begin.
9 ‘Lay down the book, O dear, kind sir, And wait a little wee; I have a lady to welcome yet, She’s been a good friend to me.’
10 Out then spake the minister, An angry man was he; ‘You might have had your ladies welcomd Before ye came to me.’
11 She looked oer her left shoulder, And tears did blind her ee; But she looked oer her right shoulder, And a blythe sight saw she, For in there came him Lord William, And his valiant company.
12 And in there came him Lord William, His armour shining clear, And in it came him Lord William, And many glittering spear.
13 ‘Stand by, stand by, ye bonny bridegroom, Stand by, stand by,’ said he; ‘Stand by, stand by, ye bonny bridegroom, Bride, ye maun join wi me.
14 ‘Let the young prince clap his coffer of gold When he gangs to his bed; Let the young prince clap his coffer of gold, But I’ll clap my bonny bride.’
15 Out it spake him Lord Lundie, And an angry man was he; ‘My daughter will marry him Lord William, It seems, in spite of me.’
* * * * *
#A, C.#
Motherwell and Dixon have made a few slight changes.
255
WILLIE’S FATAL VISIT
Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 259.
A maid, Meggie, inquires after her lover, Willie, and is told that he will be with her at night. Willie tirls the pin and is admitted. He is given the option of cards, wine, or bed, and chooses the bed, a too familiar commonplace in Buchan’s ballads. Meggie charges the cock not to crow till day, but the cock crows an hour too soon. Willie dons his clothes, and in a dowie den encounters a grievous ghost, which, wan and weary though it be, smiles upon him; smiles, we may suppose, to have caught him. Willie has travelled this road often, and never uttered a prayer for safety; but he will never travel that road again. The ghost tears him to pieces, and hangs a bit ‘on every seat’ of Mary’s kirk, the head right over Meggie’s pew! Meggie rives her yellow hair.
The first half of this piece is a medley of ‘Sweet William’s Ghost,’ ‘Clerk Saunders,’ and ‘The Grey Cock.’ For 1^{3–6}, 2, compare No 77, #A#, #E#, 2, 3, No 248, 1; for 5–8, No 69, #F# 3–6, No 70, #B# 2, 4; for 9, 10, No 248, 6, 7. 13 is caught, or taken, from ‘Clyde’s Water,’ No 216, #A# 7.
Stanzas 15–17, wherever they came from, are too good for the setting: nothing so spirited, word or deed, could have been looked for from a ghost wan, weary, and smiling.
* * * * *
1 ’Twas on an evening fair I went to take the air, I heard a maid making her moan; Said, Saw ye my father? Or saw ye my mother? Or saw ye my brother John? Or saw ye the lad that I love best, And his name it is Sweet William?
2 ‘I saw not your father, I saw not your mother, Nor saw I your brother John; But I saw the lad that ye love best, And his name it is Sweet William.’
3 ‘O was my love riding? or was he running? Or was he walking alone? Or says he that he will be here this night? O dear, but he tarries long!’
4 ‘Your love was not riding, nor yet was he running, But fast was he walking alone; He says that he will be here this night to thee, And forbids you to think long.’
5 Then Willie he has gane to his love’s door, And gently tirled the pin: ‘O sleep ye, wake ye, my bonny Meggie, Ye’ll rise, lat your true love in.’
6 The lassie being swack ran to the door fu snack, And gently she lifted the pin, Then into her arms sae large and sae lang She embraced her bonny love in.
7 ‘O will ye gang to the cards or the dice, Or to a table o wine? Or will ye gang to a well-made bed, Well coverd wi blankets fine?’
8 ‘O I winna gang to the cards nor the dice. Nor yet to a table o wine; But I’ll rather gang to a well-made bed, Well coverd wi blankets fine.’
9 ‘My braw little cock, sits on the house tap, Ye’ll craw not till it be day, And your kame shall be o the gude red gowd, And your wings o the siller grey.’
10 The cock being fause untrue he was, And he crew an hour ower seen; They thought it was the gude day-light, But it was but the light o the meen.
11 ‘Ohon, alas!’ says bonny Meggie then, ‘This night we hae sleeped ower lang!’ ‘O what is the matter?’ then Willie replied, ‘The faster then I must gang.’
12 Then Sweet Willie raise, and put on his claise, And drew till him stockings and sheen, And took by his side his berry-brown sword, And ower yon lang hill he’s gane.
13 As he gaed ower yon high, high hill, And down yon dowie den, Great and grievous was the ghost he saw, Would fear ten thousand men.
14 As he gaed in by Mary kirk, And in by Mary stile, Wan and weary was the ghost Upon sweet Willie did smile.
15 ‘Aft hae ye travelld this road, Willie, Aft hae ye travelld in sin; Ye neer said sae muckle for your saul As My Maker bring me hame!
16 ‘Aft hae ye travelld this road, Willie, Your bonny love to see; But ye’ll never travel this road again Till ye leave a token wi me.’
17 Then she has taen him Sweet Willie, Riven him frae gair to gair, And on ilka seat o Mary’s kirk O Willie she hang a share; Even abeen his love Meggie’s dice, Hang’s head and yellow hair.
18 His father made moan, his mother made moan, But Meggie made muckle mair; His father made moan, his mother made moan, But Meggie reave her yellow hair.
256
ALISON AND WILLIE
#A.# ‘My luve she lives in Lincolnshire,’ Harris MS., fol. 18 b; Mrs Harris. #b.# ‘Alison’ Buchan’s MSS., I, 231.
Alison gaily invites Willie to her wedding; he will not come unless to be the bridegroom, with her for bride. That day you will never see, says Alison; once on your horse, you will have no more mind of me than if I were dead. Willie rides slowly away, and his heart breaks with the pains of love; he dies by the way, and is left to the birds. A letter stops the wedding, and breaks Alison’s heart.
Stanza 7 must be left to those who can interpret Thomas of Erceldoune’s prophecies.
* * * * *
1 ‘My luve she lives in Lincolnshire, I wat she’s neither black nor broun, But her hair is like the thread o gowd, Aye an it waur weel kaimëd doun.’
2 She’s pued the black mask owre her face, An blinkit gaily wi her ee: ‘O will you to my weddin come, An will you bear me gude companie?’
3 ‘I winna to your weddin come, Nor [will] I bear you gude companie, Unless you be the bride yoursell, An me the bridegroom to be.’
4 ‘For me to be the bride mysel, An you the bonnie bridegroom to be— Cheer up your heart, Sweet Willie,’ she said, ‘For that’s the day you’ll never see.
5 ‘Gin you waur on your saiddle set, An gaily ridin on the way, You’ll hae nae mair mind o Alison Than she waur dead an laid in clay.’
6 When he was on his saiddle set, An slowly ridin on the way, He had mair mind o Alison Than he had o the licht o day.
7 He saw a hart draw near a hare, An aye that hare drew near a toun, An that same hart did get a hare, But the gentle knicht got neer a toun.
8 He leant him owre his saiddle-bow, An his heart did brak in pieces three; Wi sighen said him Sweet Willie, ‘The pains o luve hae taen hald o me.’
9 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . There cam a white horse an a letter, That stopped the weddin speidilie.
10 She leant her back on her bed-side, An her heart did brak in pieces three; She was buried an bemoaned, But the birds waur Willie’s companie.
* * * * *
#a.#
2^3. Oh. 10^3. He was.
#b.#
But wanting: threads.
2^1. She pu’d: mask aff.
2^2. blinked blythely.
2^3. Says, Will ye.
2^4. Or: gude wanting.
3^2. Nor will; gude wanting.
3^4. the bonny bridegroom be.
4^2. to wanting.
4^3. Sweet wanting.
5^2. And merry.
5^3. Ye’ll mind nae mair o.
5^4. When.
6^2. An weary.
7^1. He spied: draw till.
7^2. aye the.
7^3. An wanting.
8^1. leand his back to his.
8^3. said that sweet.
8^4. luve’s taen.
9^{1,2}. Their wedding-day it was well set, And a’ their friends invited there.
9^3. While came.
9^4. wedding in prepare.
Before 10^1: She said, If Willie he be dead, A wedded wife I’ll never be.
10^1. Then leand her back to her bed-stock.
10^2. Her heart in pieces broke in three.
10^3. then was.
257
BURD ISABEL AND EARL PATRICK
#A.# ‘Burd Bell,’ Kinloch MSS, I, 211.
#B.# ‘Burd Isbel and Sir Patrick,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 76.
#C.# ‘Earl Patrick and Burd Isabel,’ Motherwell’s MS., p. 440.
Christie, Traditional Ballad Airs, II, 34, I, 42, says that an old woman in Buckie, Enzie, Banff, who died in 1866 at the age of nearly eighty, and whose father was a noted ballad-singer, sang him words which, so far as he could remember, were like those of #B#.
#A.# Unmarried Burd Isabel bears a son to Earl Patrick. He has passed his word to make her his wife in case the expected bairn should be a boy, but his mother objects. He now promises to bring her home after the demise of his parents, and in the mean while builds her a gold and silver bower (which for a reason inscrutable is ‘strawn round wi sand’). Father and mother die; Patrick takes no step to fulfil his engagement, and Isabel asks why. Patrick wishes that a hundred evils may enter him, and he ‘fa oure the brim,’ if ever he marries another; nevertheless he weds a duke’s daughter. His bride has a fancy to see his son, and Patrick sends his aunt (or his grand-aunt, or his great-grand-aunt) to fetch the boy. Isabel dares any woman to take the bairn away. Patrick comes in person. Isabel repeats the words she had used to his aunt, and reminds him of the curse which he had conditionally wished himself at their last interview. The perjured man turns to go away, the hundred evils enter him, and he falls ‘oure the brim.’
#B# has nearly the same story with additional circumstances. Patrick wishes that eleven devils may attend his last day should he wed another woman. When he goes to inquire how Isabel came to refuse the request he had made through his aunt, he takes the opportunity to make over to her child the third part of his land. She has two clerks, her cousins, at her call, who see to the legal formalities pertaining to this transfer; she commits the boy to one of these, and herself goes to an unco land to drive love out of her mind. We hear of nothing worse happening to Earl Patrick for selling his precious soul than his never getting further ben the church than the door.
#C# is a variety of #B#, but not half so long. Whether #B# has added or #C# omitted, no reader will much concern himself to know.
St. 7 (nearly) occurs in No 92, #B# 17, II, 313, and something similar in various ballads.
* * * * *
A
Kinloch MSS, I, 211; “obtained in the North Country, from the recitation of Mrs Charles.”
1 There is a stane in yon water, It’s lang or it grow green; It’s a maid that maks her ain fortune, It’ll never end its leen.
2 Burd Bell was na full fyfteen Till to service she did gae; Burd Bell was na full sixteen Till big wi bairn was scho.
* * * * * *
3 ‘Burd Bell she is a gude woman, She bides at hame wi me; She never seeks to gang to church, But bides at hame wi me.’
4 It fell ance upon a day She fell in travail-pain; He is gane to the stair-head Some ladies to call in.
5 ‘O gin ye hae a lass-bairn, Burd Bell, A lass-bairn though it be, Twenty ploughs bot and a mill Will mak ye lady free.
6 ‘But gin ye hae a son, Burd Bell, Ye’se be my wedded wife, . . . . . . . . . . . . . .’
7 The knichts they knack their white fingers, The ladies sat and sang, T was a’ to cheer bonnie Burd Bell, She was far sunk in pain.
* * * * * *
8 Earl Patrick is to his mither gane, As fast as he could hie: ‘An askin, an askin, dear mither, An askin I want frae thee.
9 ‘Burd Bell has born to me a son; What sail I do her wi?’ ‘Gie her what ye like, Patrick, Mak na her your ladie.’
10 He has gane to bonnie Burd Bell, Hir heart was pressd wi care: . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
11 ‘My father will dee, bonnie Burd Bell, My mither will do the same, And whan ye hear that they are gane It’s then I’ll bring ye hame.’
12 Earl Patrick’s bigget to her a hour, And strawn it round wi sand; He coverd it wi silver on the outside, Wi the red gowd within.
13 It happened ance upon a day She was kaiming his yellow hair, . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
14 ‘Your father is dead, Earl Patrick, Your mither is the same; And what is the reason, Earl Patrick, Ye winna tak me hame?’
15 ‘I’ve bigget to you a bonnie bour, I’ve strawn it round wi sand; I’ve coverd it wi silver on the outside, Wi gude red gowd within.
16 ‘If eer I marry anither woman, Or bring anither hame, I wish a hundred evils may enter me, And may I fa oure the brim!’
17 It was na very lang after this That a duke’s dochter he’s wed, Wi a waggon fu of gowd . . . . . . .
18 Burd Bell lookit oure her castle-wa, And spied baith dale and down, And there she saw Earl Patrick’s aunt Come riding to the town.
19 ‘What want ye here, Earl Patrick’s aunt? What want ye here wi me?’ ‘I want Earl Patrick’s bonnie young son; His bride fain wad him see.’
20 ‘I wad like to see that woman or man, Of high or low degree, That wad tak the bairn frae my foot That I ance for bowd my knee.’
* * * * * *
21 ‘Burd Bell, she’s the bauldest woman That ever I did see:’ ‘It’s I’ll gang to bonnie Burd Bell, She was never bauld to me.’
22 Burd Bell lookit oure her castle-wa, Behauding brave dale and down, And there she spied him Earl Patrick Slowly riding to the town.
23 ‘What said ye to my great-grand-aunt . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .’
24 ‘I said nathing to your great-grand-aunt But I will say to thee: I wad like to see the woman or man, Of high or low degree, That wad tak the bairn frae my foot I ance for bowd my knee.
25 ‘O dinna ye mind, Earl Patrick, The vows ye made to me, That a hundred evils wad enter you If ye provd fause to me?’
26 He’s turnd him richt and round about, His horse head to the wind, The hundred evils enterd him, And he fell oure the brim.
* * * * *
B
Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 76.
1 Take warning, a’ ye young women, Of low station or hie, Lay never your love upon a man Above your ain degree.
2 Thus I speak by Burd Isbel; She was a maid sae fair, She laid her love on Sir Patrick, She’ll rue it for evermair.
3 And likewise, a’ ye sprightly youths, Of low station or hie, Lay never your love upon a maid Below your ain degree.
4 And thus I speak by Sir Patrick, Who was a knight sae rare; He’s laid his love on Burd Isbel, He’ll rue it for evermair.
5 Burd Isbel was but ten years auld, To service she has gane; And Burd Isbel was but fifeteen Whan her young son came hame.
6 It fell ance upon a day Strong travelling took she; None there was her bower within But Sir Patrick and she.
7 ‘This is a wark now, Sir Patrick, That we twa neer will end; Ye’ll do you to the outer court And call some women in.’
8 He’s done him to the outer court, And stately there did stand; Eleven ladies he’s calld in, Wi ae shake o his hand.
9 ‘Be favourable to Burd Isbel, Deal favourable if ye may; Her kirking and her fair wedding Shall baith stand on ae day.
10 ‘Deal favourable to Burd Isbel, Whom I love as my life; Ere this day month be come and gane, She’s be my wedded wife.’
11 Then he is on to his father, Fell low down on his knee; Says, Will I marry Burd Isbel? She’s born a son to me.
12 ‘O marry, marry Burd Isbel, Or use her as ye like; Ye’ll gar her wear the silks sae red And sae may ye the white. O woud ye marry Burd Isbel, Make her your heart’s delight?
13 ‘You want not lands nor rents, Patrick, You know your fortune’s free; But ere you’d marry Burd Isbel I’d rather bury thee.
14 ‘Ye’ll build a bower for Burd Isbel, And set it round wi sand; Make as much mirth in Isbel’s bower As ony in a’ the land.’
15 Then he is to his mother gane, Fell low down on his knee: ‘O shall I marry Burd Isbel? She’s born a son to me.’
16 ‘O marry, marry Burd Isbel, Or use her as ye like; Ye’ll gar her wear the silks sae red, And sae may ye the white. O would ye marry Burd Isbel, Make her wi me alike?
17 ‘You want not lands and rents, Patrick, You know your fortune’s free; But ere you marry Burd Isbel I’d rather bury thee.
18 ‘Ye’ll build a bower to Burd Isbel, And set it round wi glass; Make as much mirth in Isbel’s bower As ony in a’ the place.’
19 He’s done him down thro ha, thro ha, Sae has he in thro bower; The tears ran frae his twa grey eyes, And loot them fast down pour.
20 ‘My father and my mother baith To age are coming on; When they are dead and buried baith, Burd Isbel I’ll bring home.’
21 The words that passd atween these twa Ought never to be spoken; The vows that passd atween these twa Ought never to be broken.
22 Says he, If I another court, Or wed another wife, May eleven devils me attend At the end-day o my life.
23 But his father he soon did die, His mother nae lang behind; But Sir Patrick of Burd Isbel He now had little mind.
24 It fell ance upon a day, As she went out to walk, And there she saw him Sir Patrick, Going wi his hound and hawk.
25 ‘Stay still, stay still, now Sir Patrick, O stay a little wee, And think upon the fair promise Last year ye made to me.
26 ‘Now your father’s dead, kind sir, And your mother the same; Yet nevertheless now, Sir Patrick, Ye’re nae bringing me hame.’
27 ‘If the morn be a pleasant day, I mean to sail the sea, To spend my time in fair England, All for a month or three.’
28 He hadna been in fair England A month but barely ane Till he forgot her Burd Isbel, The mother of his son.
29 Some time he spent in fair England, And when returnd again He laid his love on a duke’s daughter, And he has brought her hame.
30 Now he’s forgot his first true love He ance lovd ower them a’; But now the devil did begin To work between them twa.
31 When Sir Patrick he was wed, And all set down to dine, Upon his first love, Burd Isbel, A thought ran in his mind.
32 He calld upon his gude grand-aunt To come right speedilie; Says, Ye’ll gae on to Burd Isbel, Bring my young son to me.
33 She’s taen her mantle her about, Wi gowd gloves on her hand, And she is on to Burd Isbel, As fast as she coud gang.
34 She haild her high, she haild her low, With stile in great degree: ‘O busk, O busk your little young son, For he maun gang wi me.’
35 ‘I woud fain see the one,’ she said, ‘O low station or hie, Woud take the bairn frae my foot, For him I bowed my knee.
36 ‘I woud fain see the one,’ she said, ‘O low station or mean, Woud take the bairn frae my foot Whom I own to be mine.’
37 Then she has done her hame again, As fast as gang coud she; ‘Present,’ said he, ‘my little young son, For him I wish to see.’
38 ‘Burd Isbel’s a bauld woman,’ she said, ‘As eer I yet spake wi;’ But sighing said him Sir Patrick, She ne’er was bauld to me.
39 But he’s dressd in his best array, His gowd rod in his hand, And he is to Burd Isbel’s bower, As fast as he coud gang.
40 ‘O how is this, Burd Isbel,’ he said, ‘So ill ye’ve used me? What gart you anger my gude grand-aunt, That I did send to thee?’
41 ‘If I hae angerd your gude grand-aunt, O then sae lat it be; I said naething to your gude grand-aunt But what I’ll say to thee.
42 ‘I woud fain see the one, I said, O low station or hie, Wha woud take this bairn frae my foot, For him I bowed the knee.
43 ‘I woud fain see the one, I said, O low station or mean, Woud take this bairn frae my foot Whom I own to be mine.’
44 ‘O if I had some counsellers here, And clerks to seal the band, I woud infeft your son this day In third part o my land.’
45 ‘I hae two couzins, Scottish clerks, Wi bills into their hand, An ye’ll infeft my son this day In third part o your land.’
46 Then he calld in her Scottish clerks, Wi bills into their hand, And he’s infeft his son that day The third part o his land.
47 To ane o these young clerks she spoke, Clerk John it was his name; Says, Of my son I gie you charge Till I return again.
48 ‘Ye’ll take here my son, clerk John, Learn him to dance and sing, And I will to some unco land, Drive love out of my mind.
49 ‘And ye’ll take here my son, clerk John, Learn him to hunt the roe, And I will to some unco land; Now lat Sir Patrick go.
50 ‘But I’ll cause this knight at church-door stand, For a’ his noble train; For selling o his precious soul Dare never come farther ben.’
* * * * *
C
Motherwell’s MS., p. 440.
1 All young maidens fair and gay, Whatever your station be, Never lay your love upon a man Above your own degree.
2 I speak it all by Bird Isabel; She was her father’s dear, She laid her love on Earl Patrick, Which she rues ever mair.
3 ‘Oh, we began a wark, Patrick, That we two cannot end; Go you unto the outer stair And call some women in.’
4 He’s gone unto the outer stair, And up in it did stand, And did bring in eleven ladies, With one sign of his hand.
5 He did him to the doctor’s shop, As fast as he could gang, But ere the doctor could get there Bird Isabel bore a son.
6 But he has courted a duke’s daughter, Lived far beyont the sea; Burd Isabel’s parents were but mean, They had not gear to gie.
7 He has courted a duke’s daughter, Lived far beyond the foam; Burd Isabel was a mean woman, And tocher she had none.
8 Now it fell once upon a day His wedding day was come; He’s hied him to his great-grand-aunt, As fast as he could gang.
9 Says, Will you go this errand, aunt? Go you this errand for me, And if I live and bruick my life I will go as far for thee.
10 ‘Go and bring me Bird Isbel’s son, Dressed in silks so fine, And if he live to be a man He shall heir all my land.’
11 Now she went hailing to the door, And hailing ben the floor, And Isabel styled her madame, And she, her Isabel dear.
12 ‘I came to take Earl Patrick’s son, To dress in silks so fine; For if he live to be a man He is to heir his land.’
13 ‘Oh is there ever a woman,’ she said, ‘Of high station or mean, Daur take this bairn from my knee? For he is called mine.
14 ‘Oh is there ever a woman,’ she said, ‘Of mean station or hie, Daur tak this bairn frae my foot? For him I bowed my knee.’
15 His aunt went hailing to his door, And hailing ben the floor, And she has styled him, Patrick, And [he] her, aunty dear.
16 She says, I have been east and west, And far beyond the sea, But Isabel is the boldest woman That ever my eyes did see.
17 ‘You surely dream, my aunty dear, For that can never be; Burd Isabel’s not a bold woman, She never was bold to me.’
18 Now he went hailing to her door, And hailing ben the floor, And she has styled him, Patrick, And he her, Isabel dear.
19 ‘O ye have angered my great-grand-aunt; You know she’s a lady free;’ ‘I said naught to your great-grand-aunt But what I’ll say to thee.
20 ‘Oh is there ever a woman, I said, Of high station or mean, Daur tak this bairn from my knee? For he is called mine.
21 ‘Oh is there ever a woman, I said, Of mean station or hie, Daur tak this bairn from my foot? For him I bowed my knee.
22 ‘But I’ll cause you stand at good church-door, For all your noble train; For selling of your precious soul, You shall not get further ben.’
258
BROUGHTY WA’S
#a.# ‘Helen,’ Buchan’s MSS, I, 233.
#b.# ‘Burd Hellen,’ or, ‘Browghty Wa’s,’ Harris MS., fol. 17 b; from Mrs Harris.
A young woman is carried off from Broughty Castle, near Dundee, by a body of armed Highlanders. Her lover, who is making her a visit at the time, is either taken along with her—an unnecessary incumbrance, one would think—or follows her. The pair go out to take the air; she throws herself into a river; her lover leaps in after her and is drowned. She kilts up her clothes and makes her way to Dundee, congratulating herself that she had learned to swim for liberty.
Stanza 9, as it runs in #b#, is a reminiscence of ‘Bonny Baby Livingston,’ and 13 recalls ‘Child Waters,’ or ‘The Knight and the Shepherd’s Daughter.’
* * * * *
1 Burd Helen was her mother’s dear, Her father’s heir to be; He was the laird of Broughty Walls, And the provost o Dundee.
2 Burd Helen she was much admired By all that were round about; Unto Hazelan she was betrothed, Her virgin days were out.
3 Glenhazlen was a comely youth, And virtuous were his friends; He left the schools o bonny Dundee And on to Aberdeen.
4 It fell upon a Christmas Day Burd Helen was left alone For to keep her father’s towers; They stand two miles from town.
5 Glenhazlen’s on to Broughty Walls, Was thinking to win in; But the wind it blew, and the rain dang on And wat him to the skin.
6 He was very well entertaind, Baith for his bed and board, Till a band o men surrounded them, Well armd wi spear and sword.
7 They hurried her along wi them, Lockd up her maids behind; They threw the keys out-ower the walls, That none the plot might find.
8 They hurried her along wi them, Ower mony a rock and glen, But, all that they could say or do, From weeping would not refrain.
9 ‘The Hiland hills are hie, hie hills, The Hiland hills are hie; They are no like the banks o Tay, Or bonny town o Dundee.’
10 It fell out ance upon a day They went to take the air; She threw hersell upon the stream, Against wind and despair.
11 It was sae deep he coudna wide, Boats werna to be found, But he leapt in after himsell, And sunk down like a stone.
12 She kilted up her green claiding A little below her knee, And never rest nor was undrest Till she reachd again Dundee.
13 ‘I learned this at Broughty Walls, At Broughty near Dundee, That if water were my prison strong I would swim for libertie.’
* * * * *
#a.#
7^2. Tuckd.
#b.#
1^4. the wanting.
2^3. But to Hunglen.
3^2. were wanting.
4^1. fell oot once upon a time.
4^3. All for.
4^4. stand ten.
5^1. Glenhazlen he cam ridin bye.
5^2. An thinkin to get in.
7^1, 8^1. They hies̄ēd.
7^2. Locked up.
7^3. An flang.
8^4. To weep she wald.
9^{3,4}. An if you wald my favour gain, Oh, tak me to Dundee!
10^1. once upon a time.
10^2. went oot to.
10^3. into the.
10^4. Between.
11^1. The stream was deep.
11^2. So he: after her himsell.
After 11:
‘The Highland hills are high, high hills, The Highland hills are hie; They’re no like the pleasant banks o Tay, Nor the bonnie town o Dundee’.
13^3. water waur my prison-walls.
13^4. I could.
259
LORD THOMAS STUART
Maidment’s North Countrie Garland, p. 1.
Lord Thomas Stuart has married a young countess, and has given her Strathbogie and Aboyne for a morning-gift. The lady has a desire to see these places. As they are on their way thither (from Edinburgh), her husband is attacked with a pain which obliges him to turn back; he tells her to ride on, and she seems so to do. The pain proves to be beyond the skill of leeches. Lord Thomas begs his father to see that his wife gets what he has given her. He dies; the horses turn wild in the stables, the hounds howl on the leash. Lady Stuart has the usual dream (No 74, #A# 8, #B# 11, etc.). She comes back wringing her hands; she knows by the horses that are standing about the house that the burial is preparing.
* * * * *
1 Thomas Stuart was a lord, A lord of mickle land; He used to wear a coat of gold, But now his grave is green.
2 Now he has wooed the young countess, The Countess of Balquhin, An given her for a morning-gift Strathboggie and Aboyne.
3 But women’s wit is aye willful, Alas that ever it was sae! She longed to see the morning-gift That her gude lord to her gae.
4 When steeds were saddled an weel bridled, An ready for to ride, There came a pain on that gude lord, His back, likewise his side.
5 He said, Ride on, my lady fair, May goodness be your guide! For I’m sae sick an weary that No farther can I ride.
6 Now ben did come his father dear, Wearing a golden band; Says, Is there nae leech in Edinburgh Can cure my son from wrang?
7 ‘O leech is come, an leech is gane, Yet, father, I’m aye waur; There’s not a leech in Edinbro Can death from me debar.
8 ‘But be a friend to my wife, father, Restore to her her own; Restore to her my morning-gift, Strathboggie and Aboyne.
9 ‘It had been gude for my wife, father, To me she’d born a son; He would have got my land an rents, Where they lie out an in.
10 ‘It had been gude for my wife, father, To me she’d born an heir; He would have got my land an rents, Where they lie fine an fair.’
11 The steeds they strave into their stables, The boys could’nt get them bound; The hounds lay howling on the leech, Cause their master was behind.
12 ‘I dreamed a dream since late yestreen, I wish it may be good, That our chamber was full of swine, An our bed full of blood.’
13 I saw a woman come from the West, Full sore wringing her hands, And aye she cried, Ohon, alas! My good lord’s broken bands.
14 As she came by my good lord’s bower, Saw mony black steeds an brown: ‘I’m feared it be mony unco lords Havin my love from town!’
15 As she came by my gude lord’s bower, Saw mony black steeds an grey: ‘I’m feared it’s mony unco lords Havin my love to the clay!’
260
LORD THOMAS AND LADY MARGARET
#A. a.# ‘Lord Thomas,’ Motherwell’s MS., p. 407. #b.# ‘Lord Thomas and Lady Margaret,’ the same, p. 71.
#B.# ‘Clerk Tamas,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 43.
Christie, who gives #B#, “epitomized and slightly changed,” under the title ‘Clerk Tamas and Fair Annie,’ Traditional Ballad Airs, II, 12, says that he can trace the ballad, traditionally, far into the last century.
#A.# Lord Thomas goes a-hunting, and Lady Margaret rides after him; when he sees her following, he orders his servants to hunt her far from him, and they hunt her high and low. She comes upon a tall young man, and begs ‘relief’ from him for a lady wronged in love and chased from her ‘country.’ No relief is to be had from him unless she will renounce all other men and be his wife. After a time, Lady Margaret, sewing at her window, observes a vagrant body, who turns out to be Lord Thomas, reduced to beggary; he has been banished from his own country, and asks relief. No relief from her; she would hang him were he within her bower. Not so, says Lord Thomas; rather he would kill her lord with his broadsword and carry her off. Not so, says Lady Margaret, but you must come in and drink with me. She poisons three bottles of wine, and pretends to be his taster. Lord Thomas drinks away merrily, but soon feels the poison. I am wearied with this drinking, he says. And so was I when you set your hounds at me, she replies; but you shall be buried as if you were one of my own.
#B# has Clerk Tamas for Lord Thomas, and Fair Annie for Lady Margaret. Tamas has loved Annie devotedly, but now hates her and the lands she lives in. Annie goes to ask him to pity her; he sees her coming, as he lies ‘over his shot-window,’ and orders his men to hunt her to the sea. A captain, lying ‘over his ship-window,’ sees Annie driven from the town, and offers to take her in if she will forsake friends and lands for him. The story goes on much as in #A#.
#A# 8 is borrowed from ‘The Douglas Tragedy,’ see No 7, #C# 9. #B# 14^{3,4} is a commonplace, which, in inferior traditional ballads, is often, as here, an out-of-place. #B# 15, 16 is another commonplace, of the silly sort: see No 87, #B# 3, 4, #D# 4, 5, and Buchan’s ‘Lady Isabel,’ 20, 21.
* * * * *
A
#a.# Motherwell’s MS., p. 407; from the recitation of Mrs Parkhill, Maxweltown, 28 September, 1825 (with variations, furnished by another person of the same neighborhood, interlined). #b.# Motherwell’s MS., p. 71; from Miss ——, Glasgow.
1 Lord Thomas is to the hunting gone, To hunt the fallow deer; Lady Margaret’s to the greenwood shaw, To see her lover hunt there.
2 He has looked over his left shoulder, To see what might be seen, And there he saw Lady Margaret, As she was riding her lane.
3 He called on his servants all, By one, by two, by three: ‘Go hunt, go hunt that wild woman, Go hunt her far from me!’
4 They hunted her high, they hunted her low, They hunted her over the plain, And the red scarlet robes Lady Margaret had on Would never be mended again.
5 They hunted her high, they hunted her low, They hunted her over the plain, Till at last she spy’d a tall young man, As he was riding alane.
6 ‘Some relief, some relief, thou tall young man! Some relief I pray thee grant me! For I am a lady deep wronged in love, And chased from my own countrie.’
7 ‘No relief, no relief, thou lady fair, No relief will I grant unto thee Till once thou renounce all the men in the world My wedded wife for to be.’
8 Then he set her on a milk-white steed, Himself upon a gray, And he has drawn his hat over his face, And chearfully they rode away.
9 Lady Margaret was at her bower-window, Sewing her silken seam, And there she spy’d, like a wandering bodie, Lord Thomas begging alane.
10 ‘Some relief, some relief, thou lady fair! Some relief, I pray thee grant me! For I am a puir auld doited carle, And banishd from my ain countrie.’
11 ‘No relief, no relief, thou perjured man, No relief will I grant unto thee; For oh, if I had thee within my bower, There hanged dead thou would be.’
12 ‘No such thing, Lady Margaret,’ he said, ‘Such a thing would never be; For with my broadsword I would kill thy wedded lord, And carry thee far off with me.’
13 ‘Oh no, no! Lord Thomas,’ she said, ‘Oh, no such things must be; For I have wine in my cellars, And you must drink with me.’
14 Lady Margaret then called her servants all, By one, by two, by three: ‘Go fetch me the bottles of blude-red wine, That Lord Thomas may drink with me.’
15 They brought her the bottles of blude-red wine, By one, by two, by three, And with her fingers long and small She poisond them all three.
16 She took the cup in her lilly-white hand, Betwixt her finger and her thumb, She put it to her red rosy lips, But never a drop went down.
17 Then he took the cup in his manly hand, Betwixt his finger and his thumb, He put it to his red rosy lips, And so merrily it ran down.
18 ‘Oh, I am wearied drinking with thee, Margaret! I am wearied drinking with thee!’ ‘And so was I,’ Lady Margaret said, ‘When thou hunted thy hounds after me.’
19 ‘But I will bury thee, Lord Thomas,’ she said, ‘Just as if thou wert one of my own; And when that my good lord comes home I will say thou’s my sister’s son.’
* * * * *
B
Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 43.
1 Clerk Tamas lovd her fair Annie As well as Mary lovd her son; But now he hates her fair Annie, And hates the lands that she lives in.
2 ‘Ohon, alas!’ said fair Annie, ‘Alas! this day I fear I’ll die; But I will on to sweet Tamas, And see gin he will pity me.’
3 As Tamas lay ower his shott-window, Just as the sun was gaen down, There he beheld her fair Annie, As she came walking to the town.
4 ‘O where are a’ my well-wight men, I wat, that I pay meat and fee, For to lat a’ my hounds gang loose To hunt this vile whore to the sea.’
5 The hounds they knew the lady well, And nane o them they woud her bite, Save ane that is ca’d Gaudywhere, I wat he did the lady smite.
6 ‘O wae mat worth ye, Gaudywhere! An ill reward this is to me; For ae bit that I gae the lave, I’m very sure I’ve gien you three.
7 ‘For me, alas! there’s nae remeid, Here comes the day that I maun die; I ken ye lovd your master well, And sae, alas for me! did I.’
8 A captain lay ower his ship-window, Just as the sun was gaen down; There he beheld her fair Annie, As she was hunted frae the town.
9 ‘Gin ye’ll forsake father and mither, And sae will ye your friends and kin, Gin ye’ll forsake your lands sae broad, Then come and I will take you in.’
10 ‘Yes, I’ll forsake baith father and mither, And sae will I my friends and kin; Yes, I’ll forsake my lands sae broad, And come, gin ye will take me in.’
11 Then a’ thing gaed frae fause Tamas, And there was naething byde him wi; Then he thought lang for Arrandella, It was fair Annie for to see.
12 ‘How do ye now, ye sweet Tamas? And how gaes a’ in your countrie?’ ‘I’ll do better to you than ever I’ve done, Fair Annie, gin ye’ll come an see.’
13 ‘O Guid forbid,’ said fair Annie, ‘That e’er the like fa in my hand! Woud I forsake my ain gude lord And follow you, a gae-through-land?
14 ‘Yet nevertheless now, sweet Tamas, Ye’ll drink a cup o wine wi me, And nine times in the live lang day Your fair claithing shall changed be.’
15 Fair Annie pat it till her cheek, Sae did she till her milk-white chin, Sae did she till her flattering lips, But never a drap o wine gaed in.
16 Tamas pat it till his cheek, Sae did he till his dimpled chin; He pat it till his rosy lips, And then the well o wine gaed in.
17 ‘These pains,’ said he, ‘are ill to bide; Here is the day that I maun die; O take this cup frae me, Annie, For o the same I am weary.’
18 ‘And sae was I o you, Tamas, When I was hunted to the sea; But I’se gar bury you in state, Which is mair than ye’d done to me.’
* * * * *
#A. a.#
12^1. (no such thing) a second time; inserted apparently by Motherwell.
Interlineations: 2^2. what he might spy. 2^4. riding by.
8^3. his broadsword from his side.
8^4. And slowly.
9^2. To see what she might spy.
9^3. spy’d Lord Thomas.
9^4. A begging along the highway.
10^3. puir oppressed man.
15^1. They glowred, but they brought the blude-red wine.
#b.#
1^1. is a.
1^2. the green wood oer.
1^3. Lady Margaret has followed him.
1^4. To seek her own true-love.
2. Wanting.
3^1. He has called up his merrie men all.
3^3. Hunt away, hunt away this.
3^4. her away from.
4^1, 5^1. and they.
4^2, 5^2. Till she ran quite over.
4^3. The scarlet robes.
4^4. They can never.
5^3. And there she spied.
5^4. Just as.
6^2. Some relief, some relief grant me.
6^3. lady that is deep, deep in.
6^4. And I am banished from.
7^1. fair ladie.
7^2. No relief, no relief I’ll grant thee.
7^3. Unless you forsake: in this.
7^4. And my: you will be.
8^1. He has mounted her.
8^2. And himself on a dapple.
8^3. The buglet horn hung done by there side.
8^4. And so slowly as they both.
9^1. One day L. M. at her castle-window.
9^2. Was sewing.
9^3. espied L. T.
9^4. A begging all.
10^1. fair ladie.
10^2. Some relief, some relief grant me.
10^{3,4}, 11. No relief, no relief, Lord Thomas, she said, But hanged thou shalt be.
12^1. O no, O no, Lady.
12^2. For no such things must be.
12^3. But with: I will.
12^4. And I’ll ride far off with thee.
13^1. O no, O no.
13^2. O no: must not.
14^1. She has called up her.
14^2, 15^2. and by.
14^3. Go bring to me a bottle of wine.
15^1. her up a bottle of wine.
15^3. so long.
15^4. The rank poison in put she.
16, 17. Wanting.
18^1. I’m wearied, I’m wearied, Lady Margaret, he said.
18^2. O I’m: talking to.
18^3. I, Lord Thomas, she.
18^4. you hounded your dogs.
19^1. bury you as one of my own.
19^2. And all in my own ground.
19^4. say you’re.
261
LADY ISABEL
‘Lady Isabel,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 129.
Lady Isabel’s step-mother accuses her of being her father’s leman; he gives her finer gowns than he gives his wife. Isabel replies that, in the first place, she is young, which is reason enough why her gowns should be fairer; but that, as a matter of fact, a lover of hers over seas sends her ten gowns to one that her father buys her. The step-mother invites Isabel to take wine with her. Isabel wishes first to go to a church. At this church she sees her own mother, and asks whether she shall flee the country or drink what has been prepared for her. Her mother enjoins her to drink the dowie drink; before she is cold she will be in a better place. Upon returning, Isabel is again pressed to take wine, and again begs to be excused for the moment; she wishes to see her maids in the garden. She gives her maids ring and brooch. A third time the step-mother proposes that they shall take wine together; the daughter, with due courtesy, begs the elder to begin. The step-mother goes through certain motions customary in ballads of this description, and swallows not a drop; Isabel duly repeats the mummery, but drinks. She has time to tell this wicked dame that their beds will be made very far apart. The step-mother goes mad.
Stanzas 20, 21, as has already been intimated, are a commonplace, and a foolish one. Stanza 24, in various forms, not always well adapted to the particular circumstances, ends several ballads: as No 64, #F#; No 65, #H#; No 66, #A# 28, 29, #B# 20, 21; No 67, #B#; No 70, #B#.
Translated by Gerhard, p. 161.
* * * * *
1 ‘T was early on a May morning Lady Isabel combd her hair; But little kent she, or the morn She woud never comb it mair.
2 ‘T was early on a May morning Lady Isabel rang the keys; But little kent she, or the morn A fey woman she was.
3 Ben it came her step-mother, As white ‘s the lily flower: ‘It’s tauld me this day, Isabel, You are your father’s whore.’
4 ‘O them that tauld you that, mother, I wish they neer drink wine; For if I be the same woman My ain sell drees the pine.
5 ‘And them that’s tauld you that, mother, I wish they neer drink ale; For if I be the same woman My ain sell drees the dail.’
6 ‘It may be very well seen, Isabel, It may be very well seen; He buys to you the damask gowns, To me the dowie green.’
7 ‘Ye are of age and I am young, And young amo my flowers; The fairer that my claithing be, The mair honour is yours.
8 ‘I hae a love beyond the sea, And far ayont the faem; For ilka gown my father buys me, My ain luve sends me ten.’
9 ‘Come ben, come ben now, Lady Isabel, And drink the wine wi me; I hae twa jewels in ae coffer, And ane o them I’ll gie [ye].’
10 ‘Stay still, stay still, my mother dear, Stay still a little while, Till I gang into Marykirk; It’s but a little mile.’
11 When she gaed on to Marykirk, And into Mary’s quire, There she saw her ain mother Sit in a gowden chair.
12 ‘O will I leave the lands, mother? Or shall I sail the sea? Or shall I drink this dowie drink That is prepar’d for me?’
13 ‘Ye winna leave the lands, daughter, Nor will ye sail the sea, But ye will drink this dowie drink This woman’s prepar’d for thee.
14 ‘Your bed is made in a better place Than ever hers will be, And ere ye’re cauld into the room Ye will be there wi me.’
15 ‘Come in, come in now, Lady Isabel, And drink the wine wi me; I hae twa jewels in ae coffer, And ane o them I’ll gie [ye].’
16 ‘Stay still, stay still, my mother dear, Stay still a little wee, Till I gang to yon garden green, My Maries a’ to see.’
17 To some she gae the broach, the broach, To some she gae a ring; But wae befa her step-mother! To her she gae nae thing.
18 ‘Come in, come in now, Lady Isabel, And drink the wine wi me; I hae twa jewels in ae coffer, And ane o them I’ll gie [ye].’
19 Slowly to the bower she came, And slowly enterd in, And being full o courtesie, Says, Begin, mother, begin.
20 She put it till her cheek, her cheek, Sae did she till her chin, Sae did she till her fu fause lips, But never a drap gaed in.
21 Lady Isabel put it till her cheek, Sae did she till her chin, Sae did she till her rosy lips, And the rank poison gaed in.
22 ‘O take this cup frae me, mother, O take this cup frae me; My bed is made in a better place Than ever yours will be.
23 ‘My bed is in the heavens high, Amang the angels fine; But yours is in the lowest hell, To drie torment and pine.’
24 Nae moan was made for Lady Isabel In bower where she lay dead, But a’ was for that ill woman, In the fields mad she gaed.
262
LORD LIVINGSTON
‘Lord Livingston,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 39.
As far as can be made out, Livingston and Seaton engage themselves to play against one another at some game, the victor expecting to stand the better in the eyes of a lady. They then proceed to Edinburgh castle, where a lady, whose ‘gowns seem like green,’ marshals the company in pairs, and chooses Livingston for her own partner. This preference enrages Seaton, who challenges Livingston to fight with him the next day. Up to this point the pairing may have been for a dance, or what not, but now we are told that Livingston and the fair dame are laid in the same bed, and further on that they were wedded that same night. In the morning Livingston arms himself for his fight; he declines to let his lady dress herself in man’s clothes and fight in his stead. On his way ‘to plain fields’ a witch warns him that she has had the dream which Sweet William dreams in No 74, and others elsewhere. Livingston is ‘slain,’ but for all that stands presently bleeding by his lady’s knee: see No 73, #B# 34, #D# 17. She begs him to hold out but half an hour, and every leech in Edinburgh shall come to him: see No 88, #A# 12, etc. He orders his lands to be dealt to the auld that may not, the young that cannot, etc.: see No 92, #A# 10, #B# 15. The lady declares that it was known from her birth that she was to marry a knight and lose him the next day. She will now do for his sake what other ladies would not be equal to (and which nevertheless many other ballad-ladies have undertaken, as in No 69 and elsewhere). When seven years are near an end her heart breaks.
This ballad, or something like it, was known at the end of the last century. The story has a faint resemblance to that of ‘Armstrong and Musgrave,’ a broadside printed in the last quarter of the seventeenth century: Crawford Ballads, No 123, Old Ballads, 1723, I, 175; Evans, Old Ballads, 1777, II, 70. Pinkerton acknowledges that he composed the ‘Lord Livingston’ of his Tragic Ballads, 1781, p. 69, but he says that he had “small lines from tradition.” (Ancient Scotish Poems, 1786, I, cxxxi.) Pinkerton’s ballad is the one which Buchan refers to, II, 308. It is translated by Grundtvig, Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, p. 139, No 21.
* * * * *
1 It fell about the Lammas time, When wightsmen won their hay, A’ the squires in merry Linkum Went a’ forth till a play.
2 They playd until the evening tide, The sun was gaeing down; A lady thro plain fields was bound, A lily leesome thing.
3 Two squires that for this lady pledged, In hopes for a renown, The one was calld the proud Seaton, The other Livingston.
4 ‘When will ye, Michaell o Livingston, Wad for this lady gay?’ ‘To-morrow, to-morrow,’ said Livingston, ‘To-morrow, if you may.’
5 Then they hae wadded their wagers, And laid their pledges down; To the high castle o Edinbro They made them ready boun.
6 The chamber that they did gang in, There it was daily dight; The kipples were like the gude red gowd, As they stood up in hight, And the roof-tree like the siller white, And shin’d like candles bright.
7 The lady fair into that ha Was comely to be seen; Her kirtle was made o the pa, Her gowns seemd o the green.
8 Her gowns seemd like green, like green, Her kirtle o the pa; A siller wand intill her hand, She marshalld ower them a’.
9 She gae every knight a lady bright, And every squire a may; Her own sell chose him Livingston, They were a comely tway.
10 Then Seaton started till his foot, The fierce flame in his ee: ‘On the next day, wi sword in hand, On plain fields meet ye me.’
11 When bells were rung, and mass was sung, And a’ man bound for bed, Lord Livingston and his fair dame In bed were sweetly laid.
12 The bed, the bed where they lay in Was coverd wi the pa; A covering o the gude red gowd Lay nightly ower the twa.
13 So they lay there, till on the morn The sun shone on their feet; Then up it raise him Livingston To draw to him a weed.
14 The first an weed that he drew on Was o the linen clear; The next an weed that he drew on, It was a weed o weir.
15 The niest an weed that he drew on Was gude iron and steel; Twa gloves o plate, a gowden helmet, Became that hind chiel weel.
16 Then out it speaks that lady gay— A little forbye stood she— ‘I’ll dress mysell in men’s array, Gae to the fields for thee.’
17 ‘O God forbid,’ said Livingston, ‘That eer I dree the shame; My lady slain in plain fields, And I coward knight at hame!’
18 He scarcely travelled frae the town A mile but barely twa Till he met wi a witch-woman, I pray to send her wae!
19 ‘This is too gude a day, my lord, To gang sae far frae town; This is too gude a day, my lord, On field to make you boun.
20 ‘I dreamd a dream concerning thee, O read ill dreams to guid! Your bower was full o milk-white swans, Your bride’s bed full o bluid.’
21 ‘O bluid is gude,’ said Livingston, ‘To bide it whoso may; If I be frae yon plain fields, Nane knew the plight I lay.’
22 Then he rade on to plain fields As swift’s his horse coud hie, And there he met the proud Seaton, Come boldly ower the lee.
23 ‘Come on to me now, Livingston, Or then take foot and flee; This is the day that we must try Who gains the victorie.’
24 Then they fought with sword in hand Till they were bluidy men; But on the point o Seaton’s sword Brave Livingston was slain.
25 His lady lay ower castle-wa, Beholding dale and down, When Blenchant brave, his gallant steed, Came prancing to the town.
26 ‘O where is now my ain gude lord He stays sae far frae me?’ ‘O dinna ye see your ain gude lord Stand bleeding by your knee?’
27 ‘O live, O live, Lord Livingston, The space o ae half hour, There’s nae a leech in Edinbro town But I’ll bring to your door.’
28 ‘Awa wi your leeches, lady,’ he said, ‘Of them I’ll be the waur; There’s nae a leech in Edinbro town That can strong death debar.
29 ‘Ye’ll take the lands o Livingston And deal them liberallie, To the auld that may not, the young that cannot, And blind that does na see, And help young maidens’ marriages, That has nae gear to gie.’
30 ‘My mother got it in a book, The first night I was born, I woud be wedded till a knight, And him slain on the morn.
31 ‘But I will do for my love’s sake What ladies woudna thole; Ere seven years shall hae an end, Nae shoe’s gang on my sole.
32 ‘There’s never lint gang on my head, Nor kame gang in my hair, Nor ever coal nor candle-light Shine in my bower mair.’
33 When seven years were near an end, The lady she thought lang, And wi a crack her heart did brake, And sae this ends my sang.
263
THE NEW-SLAIN KNIGHT
‘The New-Slain Knight,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 197.
A knight (who twaddles in the first person at the beginning) finds a maid sleeping under a hedge, wakes her, and tells her that he has seen a dead man in her father’s garden. She asks about the dead man’s hawk, hound, sword. His hawk and hound were gone, his horse was tied to a tree, a bloody sword lay under his head. She asks about his clothes, and receives a description, with the addition that his hair was bonny and new combed. ‘I combed it late yesterday!’ says the lady. ‘Who now will shoe my foot, and glove my hand, and father my bairn?’ The knight offers himself for all these, but the lady will commit herself only to Heaven. The knight, after knacking his fingers quite superfluously, unmasks; he has only been making a trial of her truth.
A large part of this piece is imitated or taken outright from very well known ballads (as has already been pointed out by the editor of the Ballad Minstrelsy of Scotland, 1871, p. 345): 5–8 from ‘Young Johnstone,’ No 88; 10, 11 from ‘The Lass of Roch Royal,’ No 76 (see particularly #E# 1–4, and compare No 66, #A# 24, etc.); for 13^{1,2} see No 91, #B# 5^1, 6^1, 7^1, #D# 7^{1,2}, No 257, #A# 7.
Grundtvig notes that this piece is of the same description as the Danish ‘Troskabspröven,’ Danmarks gamle Folkeviser, IV, 553, No 252, one version of which is translated by Prior, III, 289, No 146. Naturally, the fidelity of maid or wife is celebrated in the ballads of every tongue and people. This particular ballad, so far as it is original, is of very ordinary quality. The ninth stanza is pretty, but not quite artless.
Translated by Grundtvig, Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, p. 294, No 46.
* * * * *
1 My heart is lighter than the poll; My folly made me glad, As on my rambles I went out, Near by a garden-side.
2 I walked on, and farther on, Love did my heart engage; There I spied a well-faird maid, Lay sleeping near a hedge.
3 Then I kissd her with my lips And stroked her with my hand: ‘Win up, win up, ye well-faird maid, This day ye sleep oer lang.
4 ‘This dreary sight that I hae seen Unto my heart gives pain; At the south side o your father’s garden, I see a knight lies slain.’
5 ‘O what like was his hawk, his hawk? Or what like was his hound? And what like was the trusty brand This new-slain knight had on?’
6 ‘His hawk and hound were from him gone, His steed tied to a tree; A bloody brand beneath his head, And on the ground lies he.’
7 ‘O what like was his hose, his hose? And what like were his shoon? And what like was the gay clothing This new-slain knight had on?’
8 ‘His coat was of the red scarlet, His waistcoat of the same; His hose were of the bonny black, And shoon laced with cordin.
9 ‘Bonny was his yellow hair, For it was new combd down;’ Then, sighing sair, said the lady fair, ‘I combd it late yestreen.
10 ‘O wha will shoe my fu fair foot? Or wha will glove my hand? Or wha will father my dear bairn, Since my love’s dead and gane?’
11 ‘O I will shoe your fu fair foot, And I will glove your hand; And I’ll be father to your bairn, Since your love’s dead and gane.’
12 ‘I winna father my bairn,’ she said, ‘Upon an unkent man; I’ll father it on the King of Heaven, Since my love’s dead and gane.’
13 The knight he knackd his white fingers, The lady tore her hair; He’s drawn the mask from off his face, Says, Lady, mourn nae mair.
14 ‘For ye are mine, and I am thine, I see your love is true; And if I live and brook my life Ye’se never hae cause to rue.’
* * * * *
10^1, 11^1. fair fu.
264
THE WHITE FISHER
‘The White Fisher,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 200.
A young lord, Willie, asks his ‘gay lady’ whose the child is that she is going with. She owns that a priest is the father, which does not appear to disconcert Willie. A boy is born, and the mother charges Willie to throw him into the sea, ‘never to return till white fish he bring hame.’ Willie takes the boy (now called his son) to his mother, and tells her that his ‘bride’ is a king’s daughter; upon which his mother, who had had an ill opinion of the lady, promises to do as well by Willie’s son as she had done by Willie. Returning to his wife, he finds her weeping and repining for the ‘white fisher’ that she had ‘sent to the sea.’ Willie offers her a cordial; she says that the man who could have drowned her son would be capable of poisoning her. Willie then tells her that his mother has the boy in charge; she is consoled, and declares that if he had not been the father she should not have been the mother.
To make this story hang together at all, we must suppose that the third and fourth stanzas are tropical, and that Willie was the priest; or else that they are sarcastic, and are uttered in bitter resentment of Willie’s suspicion, or affected suspicion. But we need not trouble ourselves much to make these counterfeits reasonable. Those who utter them rely confidently upon our taking folly and jargon as the marks of genuineness. The white fisher is a trumpery fancy; 2, 7, 8, 12 are frippery commonplaces.
* * * * *
1 ‘It is a month, and isna mair, Love, sin I was at thee, But find a stirring in your side; Who may the father be?
2 ‘Is it to a lord of might, Or baron of high degree? Or is it to the little wee page That rode along wi me?’
3 ‘It is not to a man of might, Nor baron of high degree, But it is to a popish priest; My lord, I winna lie.
4 ‘He got me in my bower alone, As I sat pensively; He vowed he would forgive my sins, If I would him obey.’
5 Now it fell ance upon a day This young lord went from home, And great and heavy were the pains That came this lady on.
6 Then word has gane to her gude lord, As he sat at the wine, And when the tidings he did hear Then he came singing hame.
7 When he came to his own bower-door, He tirled at the pin: ‘Sleep ye, wake ye, my gay lady, Ye’ll let your gude lord in.’
8 Huly, huly raise she up, And slowly put she on, And slowly came she to the door; She was a weary woman.
9 ‘Ye’ll take up my son, Willie, That ye see here wi me, And hae him down to yon shore-side, And throw him in the sea.
10 ‘Gin he sink, ye’ll let him sink, Gin he swim, ye’ll let him swim; And never let him return again Till white fish he bring hame.’
11 Then he’s taen up his little young son, And rowd him in a band, And he is on to his mother, As fast as he could gang.
12 ‘Ye’ll open the door, my mother dear, Ye’ll open, let me come in; My young son is in my arms twa, And shivering at the chin.’
13 ‘I tauld you true, my son Willie, When ye was gaun to ride, That lady was an ill woman That ye chose for your bride.’
14 ‘O hold your tongue, my mother dear, Let a’ your folly be; I wat she is a king’s daughter That’s sent this son to thee.
15 ‘I wat she was a king’s daughter I loved beyond the sea, And if my lady hear of this Right angry will she be.’
16 ‘If that be true, my son Willie— Your ain tongue winna lie— Nae waur to your son will be done Than what was done to thee.’
17 He’s gane hame to his lady, And sair mourning was she: ‘What ails you now, my lady gay, Ye weep sa bitterlie?’
18 ‘O bonny was the white fisher That I sent to the sea; But lang, lang will I look for fish Ere white fish he bring me!
19 ‘O bonny was the white fisher That ye kiest in the faem; But lang, lang will I look for fish Ere white fish he fetch hame!
20 ‘I fell a slumbering on my bed That time ye went frae me, And dreamd my young son filld my arms, But when waked, he’s in the sea.’
21 ‘O hold your tongue, my gay lady, Let a’ your mourning be, And I’ll gie you some fine cordial, My love, to comfort thee.’
22 ‘I value not your fine cordial, Nor aught that ye can gie; Who could hae drownd my bonny young son Could as well poison me.’
28 ‘Cheer up your heart, my lily flower, Think nae sic ill o me; Your young son’s in my mother’s bower, Set on the nourice knee.
24 ‘Now, if ye’ll be a gude woman, I’ll neer mind this to thee; Nae waur is done to your young son Than what was done to me.’
25 ‘Well fell’s me now, my ain gude lord; These words do cherish me; If it hadna come o yoursell, my lord, ‘T would neer hae come o me.’
* * * * *
7^3. Ye sleep ye, wake ye.
265
THE KNIGHT’S GHOST
‘The Knight’s Ghost,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 227.
A lady who is expecting the return of her lord from sea goes down to the strand to meet him. The ship comes in, but the sailors tell her that she will never see her husband; he has been slain. She invites the men to drink with her, takes them down to the cellar, makes them drunk, locks the door, and bids them lie there for the bad news they have told; then she throws the keys into the sea, to lie there till her lord returns. After these efforts she falls asleep in her own room, and her dead lord starts up at her feet; he brings the keys with him, and charges her to release his men, who had done their best for him and were not to blame for his death. The lady, to turn this visit to the more account, asks to be informed what day she is to die, and what day to be buried. The knight is not empowered to answer, but, come to heaven when she will, he will be her porter. He sees no objection to telling her that she will be married again and have nine children, six ladies free and three bold young men.
The piece has not a perceptible globule of old blood in it, yet it has had the distinction of being more than once translated as a specimen of Scottish popular ballads. ‘Monie’ in 2^2 may be plausibly read, or understood, ‘menie,’ retinue; still the antecedent presumption in favor of nonsense in ballads of this class makes one hesitate. 7^{3,4} is unnatural; no dissembling would be required to induce the young men to drink. In 8^3, ‘birled them wi the beer’ is what we should expect, not ‘birled wi them.’
Translated by Rosa Warrens, Schottische Volkslieder der Vorzeit, p. 57, No 13; by Gerhard, p. 154.
* * * * *
1 ‘There is a fashion in this land, And even come to this country, That every lady should meet her lord When he is newly come frae sea:
2 ‘Some wi hawks, and some wi hounds, And other some wi gay monie; But I will gae myself alone, And set his young son on his knee.’
3 She’s taen her young son in her arms, And nimbly walkd by yon sea-strand, And there she spy’d her father’s ship, As she was sailing to dry land.
4 ‘Where hae ye put my ain gude lord, This day he stays sae far frae me?’ ‘If ye be wanting your ain gude lord, A sight o him ye’ll never see.’
5 ‘Was he brunt? or was he shot? Or was he drowned in the sea? Or what’s become o my ain gude lord, That he will neer appear to me?’
6 ‘He wasna brunt, nor was he shot, Nor was he drowned in the sea; He was slain in Dumfermling, A fatal day to you and me.’
7 ‘Come in, come in, my merry young men, Come in and drink the wine wi me; And a’ the better ye shall fare For this gude news ye tell to me.’
8 She’s brought them down to yon cellar, She brought them fifty steps and three; She birled wi them the beer and wine, Till they were as drunk as drunk could be.
9 Then she has lockd her cellar-door, For there were fifty steps and three: ‘Lie there, wi my sad malison, For this bad news ye’ve tauld to me.’
10 She’s taen the keys intill her hand And threw them deep, deep in the sea: ‘Lie there, wi my sad malison, Till my gude lord return to me.’
11 Then she sat down in her own room, And sorrow lulld her fast asleep, And up it starts her own gude lord, And even at that lady’s feet.
12 ‘Take here the keys, Janet,’ he says, ‘That ye threw deep, deep in the sea; And ye’ll relieve my merry young men, For they’ve nane o the swick o me.
13 ‘They shot the shot, and drew the stroke, And wad in red bluid to the knee; Nae sailors mair for their lord coud do Nor my young men they did for me.’
14 ‘I hae a question at you to ask, Before that ye depart frae me; You’ll tell to me what day I’ll die, And what day will my burial be?’
15 ‘I hae nae mair o God’s power Than he has granted unto me; But come to heaven when ye will, There porter to you I will be.
16 ‘But ye’ll be wed to a finer knight Than ever was in my degree; Unto him ye’ll hae children nine, And six o them will be ladies free.
17 ‘The other three will be bold young men, To fight for king and countrie; The ane a duke, the second a knight, And third a laird o lands sae free.’
ADDITIONS AND CORRECTIONS
VOL. I.
1. Riddles Wisely Expounded.
Pp. 1–3, 484; II, 495 a. #Little-Russian#. Three lads give a girl riddles. ‘If you guess right, shall you be ours?’ Golovatsky, II, 83, 19. Two other pieces in the same, III, 180, 55. (W. W.)
A king’s daughter, or other maid, makes the reading of her riddles a condition of marriage in several Polish tales; it may be further stipulated that a riddle shall be also given which the woman cannot guess, or that those who fail shall forfeit their life. Karłowicz in Wisła, III, 258, 270, where are cited, besides a MS. communication, Zbiór wiadomości do antropologii krajowej, V, 194, VII, 12; Gli[‘n]ski, Bajarz Polski, III, No 1; Kolberg, Krakowskie, IV, 204.
2. The Elfin Knight.
P. 7 a. The last two stanzas of #F# are also in Kinloch MSS, V, 275, with one trivial variation, and the burden, ‘And then, etc.’
Sir Walter Scott had a copy beginning, ‘There lived a wife in the wilds of Kent:’ Sharpe’s Ballad Book, 1880, p. 147 f.
7 b, 484 a. Add: #P#, #Q#, Hruschka u. Toischer, Deutsche Volkslieder aus Böhmen, p. 171, No 124, a, b.
7 b, III, 496 a. ‘Store Fordringer,’ Kristensen, Jyske Folkeminder, X, 342, No 85 (with the stupid painted roses).
7 f, 484 a, II, 495 a, III, 496 a. Add: ‘I tre Tamburi,’ Ferraro, C. P. del Basso Monferrato, p. 52; ‘Il Compito,’ Romaic, Tommaseo, III, 13 (already cited by Nigra).
8 a, II, 495 a. Tasks. #Servian# ballads. Karadžić, Sr. n. pj., I, 164, No 240, ‘The Spinster and the Tsar;’ I, 165, No 242, ‘The Spinster and the Goldsmith.’ Cf. I, 166, No 243. Also, Karadžić, Sr. n. pj. iz Herz., p. 217, No 191; Petranović, I, 13, No 16 (where the girl’s father sets the tasks), and p. 218, No 238; Rajković, p. 209, No 237. #Bulgarian.# Collection of the Bulgarian Ministry of Public Instruction, II, 31, 3; III, 28, 4. Cf. Verković, p. 52, 43; Bezsonov, II, 74, 105; Miladinof, p. 471, 536. #Russian.# An episode in the old Russian legend of Prince Peter of Murom and his wife Fevronija, three versions: Kušelev-Bezborodko, Monuments of Old Russian Literature, I, 29 ff. (W. W.)
Wit-contests in verse, the motive of love or marriage having probably dropped out. Polish. Five examples are cited by Karłowicz, Wisła, III, 267 ff.: Kolberg, Krakowskie, II, 149, and Mazowsze, II, 149, No 332, Zbiór wiad. do antrop., X, 297, No 217, and two not before printed. Moravian examples from Sušil, p. 692 f., No 809, p. 701 ff., No 815: make me a shirt without needle or thread, twist me silk out of oaten straw; count me the stars, build me a ladder to go up to them; drain the Red Sea, make me a bucket that will hold it; etc. Zapolski, White Russian Weddings and Wedding-Songs, p. 35, No 19. Wisła, as before, III, 532 ff.
Polish tales of The Clever Wench are numerous: Wisła, III, 270 ff.
13 b. A fragment of a riddle given by a wise man to the gods is preserved in a cuneiform inscription: [What is that] which is in the house? which roars like a bull? which growls like a bear? which enters into the heart of a man? etc. The answer is evidently air, wind. George Smith, The Chaldean Account of Genesis, 1876, p. 156 : cited by J. Karłowicz, Wisła, III, 273.
15–20, 484 f., II, 495 f. Communicated by the Rev. S. Baring-Gould. “From the north of Cornwall, near Camelford. This used to be sung as a sort of game in farm-houses, between a young man who went outside the room and a girl who sat on the settle or a chair, and a sort of chorus of farm lads and lasses. Now quite discontinued.” The dead lover represents the auld man in #I#.
1 A fair pretty maiden she sat on her bed, The wind is blowing in forest and town She sighed and she said, O my love he is dead! And the wind it shaketh the acorns down
2 The maiden she sighed; ‘I would,’ said she, ‘That again my lover might be with me!’
3 Before ever a word the maid she spake, But she for fear did shiver and shake.
4 There stood at her side her lover dead; ‘Take me by the hand, sweet love,’ he said.
5 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
6 ‘Thou must buy me, my lady, a cambrick shirt, Whilst every grove rings with a merry antine And stitch it without any needle-work. O and thus shalt thou be a true love of mine
7 ‘And thou must wash it in yonder well, Whilst, etc. Where never a drop of water in fell. O and thus, etc.
8 ‘And thou must hang it upon a white thorn That never has blossomed since Adam was born.
9 ‘And when that these tasks are finished and done I’ll take thee and marry thee under the sun.’
10 ‘Before ever I do these two and three, I will set of tasks as many to thee.
11 ‘Thou must buy for me an acre of land Between the salt ocean and the yellow sand.
12 ‘Thou must plough it oer with a horse’s horn, And sow it over with one peppercorn.
13 ‘Thou must reap it too with a piece of leather, And bind it up with a peacock’s feather.
14 ‘And when that these tasks are finished and done, O then will I marry thee under the sun.’
15 ‘Now thou hast answered me well,’ he said, The wind, etc. ‘Or thou must have gone away with the dead.’ And the wind, etc.
16 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Mr Frank Kidsen has given a copy of ‘Scarborough Fair,’ with some better readings, as sung “in Whitby streets twenty or thirty years ago,” in Traditional Tunes, p. 43, 1891.
* * * * *
1–4, second line of burden, true love.
2^2. Without any seam or needlework.
3^1. yonder dry well.
3^2. no water sprung.
4^1. Tell her to dry it on yonder thorn.
4^2. Which never bore blossom since.
5, 6. Wanting.
7^1. O will you find me.
7^2. Between the sea-foam [and] the sea-sand. Or never be a true lover of mine.
8^1. O will you plough.
9^1. O will you reap it.
9^2. And tie it all up.
10^1. And when you have done and finished your work.
10^2. You may come to me for your. And then you shall be a. _At p. 172, the first stanza of another version is given, with_ Rue, parsley, rosemary and thyme for the first line of the burden.
3. The Fause Knight upon the Road.
Pp. 20, 485 (also, 14 a, 484 a), III, 496 a. Foiling mischievous sprites and ghosts by getting the last word, or prolonging talk till the time when they must go, especially the noon-sprite: Wisła, III, 275 f., and notes 44–6; also, 269 f. The Wends have the proverbial phrase, to ask as many questions as a noon-sprite. The Poles have many stories of beings that take service without wages, on condition of no fault being found, and make off instantly upon the terms being broken.
20, III, 496 a. The last verses of ‘Tsanno d’Oymé,’ Daymard, Vieux Chants pop. recueillis en Quercy, p. 70, are after the fashion of this ballad.
‘Tsano d’Oymé, atal fuessés négado!’ ‘Lou fil del rey, et bous né fuessés l’aygo!’
‘Tsano d’Oymé, atal fuessés brullado!’ ‘Lou fil del rey, et bous fuessés las clappos!’
4. Lady Isabel and the Elf-Knight.
P. 24 a. A copy in Christie’s Traditional Ballad Airs, II, 236, ‘May Colvine and Fause Sir John’ (of which no account is given), is a free compilation from #D b#, #D a#, and #C c#.
The Gaelic tale referred to by Jamieson may be seen, as Mr Macmath has pointed out to me, in Rev. Alexander Stewart’s ’Twixt Ben Nevis and Glencoe, Edinburgh, 1885, p. 205 ff. Dr Stewart gives nine stanzas of a Gaelic ballad, and furnishes an English rendering. The story has no connection with that of No 4.
25 b, note. ‘Halewyn en het kleyne Kind,’ in the first volume of the MS. Poésies pop. de la France, was communicated by Crussemaker, and is the same piece that he printed. Other copies in Lootens et Feys, No 45, p. 85 (see p. 296); Volkskunde, II, 194, ‘Van Mijn-heerken van Bruindergestem.’
27 a, note †. Add: MacInness, Folk and Hero Tales [Gaelic], p. 301, a Highland St George: see I, 487, note.
27 f. Professor Bugge, Arkiv för nordisk Filologi, VII, 120–36, 1891, points out that a Swedish ballad given in Grundtvig, D. g. F. IV, 813 f., #F#, and here referred to under ‘Hind Etin,’ I, 364 b, as Swedish #C#, has resemblances with ‘Kvindemorderen.’ Fru Malin is combing her hair al fresco, when a suitor enters her premises; he remarks that a crown would sit well on her head. The lady skips off to her chamber, and exclaims, Christ grant he may wish to be mine! The suitor follows her, and asks, Where is the fair dame who wishes to be mine? But when Fru Malin comes to table she is in trouble, and the suitor puts her several leading questions. She is sad, not for any of several reasons suggested, but for the bridge under which her seven sisters (syskon) lie. ‘Sorrow not,’ he says, ‘we shall build the bridge so broad and long that four-and-twenty horses may go over at a time.’ They pass through a wood; on the bridge her horse stumbles, and she is thrown into the water. She cries for help; she will give him her gold crown. He cares nothing for the crown, and never will help her out. Bugge maintains that this ballad is not, as Grundtvig considered it, a compound of ‘Nökkens Svig’ and ‘Harpens Kraft,’ but an independent ballad, ‘The Bride Drowned,’ of a set to which belong ‘Der Wasserman,’ Haupt and Schmaler, I, 62, No 34, and many German ballads: see Grundtvig, IV, 810 f, and here I, 365 f., 38.
29–37, 486 a. Add: #E E#, Hruschka u. Toischer, Deutsche Volkslieder aus Böhmen, p. 126, No 35. Like #Q#, p. 35.
39 ff. The Polish ballad ‘Jás i Kasia.’ Mr John Karłowicz has given, in Wisła, IV, 393–424, the results of a study of this ballad, and they are here briefly summarized.
Ten unprinted versions are there added to the large number already published, making about ninety copies, if fragments are counted. Copies not noted at I, 39, 486, are, besides these ten, the following. Kolberg, Krakowskie, II, 111, 168, Nos 208, 336; Kieleckie, II, 148, No 453; Leęczychie, p. 131, No 223; Lubelskie, I, 289 ff., Nos 473, 474; Pozna[‘n]skie, IV, 63, No 131; Mazowsze, III, 274, No 386, IV, 320, No 346. Zbiór wiadomości do antropologii krajowej, II, 78, Nos 89, 90; IV, 129; X, 123. Wisła, II, 132, 159. Prace filologiczne, II, 568. Keętrzy[‘n]ski, O Mazurach, p. 35, No 1. Zawili[‘n]ski, Z powieści i pieśni górali beskidowych, p. 88, No 66. Wasilewski, Jagodne, etc., No 120. Federowski, Lud okolic Żarek, etc., p. 102, No 49.
Most of the ten versions printed in Wisła agree with others previously published; in some there are novel details. In No 3, p. 398, Kasia, thrown into the water by her lover, is rescued by her brother. In No 10, p. 404, Jás, when drowning the girl, tells her that he has drowned four already, and she shall be the fifth; her brother comes sliding down a silken rope; fishermen take the girl out dead. There are still only two of all the Polish versions in which Catharine kills John, #A a#, #b#. The name Ligar, in the latter, points clearly, Mr Karłowicz remarks, to the U-linger, Ad-elger, Ol-legehr of the German versions, and he is convinced that the ballad came into Poland from Germany, although the girl is not drowned in the German ballad, as in the Polish, English, and French.
John, who is commonly the hero in the Polish ballad, is at the beginning of many copies declared to have sung, and the words have no apparent sense. But we observe that in the versions of western Europe the hero plays on the horn, sings a seductive song, promises to teach the girl to sing, etc.; the unmeaning Polish phrase is therefore a survival.
In many of the German versions a bird warns the maid of her danger. This feature is found once only in Polish: in Zawili[‘n]ski (No 69 A of Karłowicz).
At p. 777 of Sušil’s Moravian Songs there are two other versions which I have not noticed, the second of them manifestly derived from Poland.
There is a Little-Russian ballad which begins like the Polish ‘Jás i Kasia,’ but ends with the girl being tied to a tree and burned, instead of being drowned: Wisła, IV, 423, from Zbiór wiadom. do antrop., III, 150, No 17. Traces of the incident of the burning are also found in Polish and Moravian songs: Wisła, pp. 418–22. It is probable that there were two independent ballads, and that these have been confounded.
42 a, III, 497 a. #A#. Add: ‘Renaud et ses Femmes,’ Revue des Traditions Populaires, VI, 34.
43 a. ‘Lou Cros dé Proucinello,’ Daymard, Vieux Chants p. recueillis en Quercy, p. 130, has at the end two traits of this ballad. A young man carries off a girl whom he has been in love with seven years; he throws her into a ravine; as she falls, she catches at a tree; he cuts it away; she cries, What shall I do with my pretty gowns? and is answered, Give them to me for another mistress. Cf. also Daymard, p. 128.
43 b, III, 497 a. ‘La Fille de Saint-Martin.’ Add: ‘Le Mari Assassin,’ Chanson du pays de Caux, Revue des Traditions Populaires, IV, 133.
43 f., 488 a, III, 497. #Italian.# The ballad in Nannarelli (488 a) I have seen: it is like ‘La Monferrina incontaminata.’ Add: ‘La bella Inglese,’ Salvadori, in Giornale di Filologia Romanza, II, 201; ‘Un’ eroina,’ A. Giannini, Canzoni del Contado di Massa Lunense, No 1, Archivio, VIII, 273; [‘Montiglia’], [‘Inglesa’], Bolognini, Annuario degli Alpinisti Tridentini, XIII, Usi e Costumi del Trentino, 1888, p. 37 f.
44 b. ‘La Princesa Isabel,’ Pidal, Romancero Asturiano, p. 350 (sung by children as an accompaniment to a game), is a variety of ‘Rico Franco.’
45 a, 488 a. Another Portuguese version, ‘O caso de D. Ignez,’ Braga, Ampliações ao Romanceiro das Ilhas dos Açores, Revista Lusitana, I, 103.
45 b. Breton, 5. Marivonnic also in Quellien, Chansons et Danses des Bretons, 1889, p. 99.
50 b, note ǁ. As to this use of blood, cf. H. von Wlisłocki, Volksthümliches zum Armen Heinrich, Ztschr. f. deutsche Philologie, 1890, XXIII, 217 ff; Notes and Queries, 7th Series, VIII, 363. (G. L. K.)
55. #B#. A copy in Walks near Edinburgh, by Margaret Warrender, 1890, p. 104, differs from #B b# in only a few words, as any ordinary recollection would. As:
* * * * *
4^3, 6^3, 8^3. my guid steed.
9^4. It will gar our loves to twine.
10^4. An I’ll ring for you the bell.
11^3. Grant me ae kiss o your fause, fause mouth (improbable reading).
14^2. she won.
14^3. most heartily.
56 ff., 488 f., II, 497 f.
The copy of ‘May Collin’ which follows is quite the best of the series #C-G#. It is written on the same sheet of paper as the “copy of some antiquity” used by Scott in making up his ‘Gay Goss Hawk’ (ed. 1802, II, 7). The sheet is perhaps as old as any in the volume in which it occurs, but may possibly not be the original. ‘May Collin’ is not in the same hand as the other ballad.
According to the preface to a stall-copy spoken of by Motherwell, Minstrelsy, p. lxx, 24, “the treacherous and murder-minting lover was an ecclesiastic of the monastery of Maybole,” and the preface to #D d# (see I, 488) makes him a Dominican friar. So, if we were to accept these guides, the ‘Sir’ would be the old ecclesiastical title and equivalent to the ‘Mess’ of the copy now to be given.
‘May Collin,’ “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 146, Abbotsford.
1 May Collin . . . . . . . . was her father’s heir, And she fell in love with a falsh priest, And she rued it ever mair.
2 He followd her butt, he followd her benn, He followd her through the hall, Till she had neither tongue nor teeth Nor lips to say him naw.
3 ‘We’ll take the steed out where he is, The gold where eer it be, And we’ll away to some unco land, And married we shall be.’
4 They had not riden a mile, a mile, A mile but barely three, Till they came to a rank river, Was raging like the sea.
5 ‘Light off, light off now, May Collin, It’s here that you must die; Here I have drownd seven king’s daughters, The eight now you must be.
6 ‘Cast off, cast off now, May Collin, Your gown that’s of the green; For it’s oer good and oer costly To rot in the sea-stream.
7 ‘Cast off, cast off now, May Collin, Your coat that’s of the black; For it’s oer good and oer costly To rot in the sea-wreck.
8 ‘Cast off, cast off now, May Collin, Your stays that are well laced; For thei’r oer good and costly In the sea’s ground to waste.
9 ‘Cast [off, cast off now, May Collin,] Your sark that’s of the holland; For [it’s oer good and oer costly] To rot in the sea-bottom.’
10 ‘Turn you about now, falsh Mess John, To the green leaf of the tree; It does not fit a mansworn man A naked woman to see.’
11 He turnd him quickly round about, To the green leaf of the tree; She took him hastly in her arms And flung him in the sea.
12 ‘Now lye you there, you falsh Mess John, My mallasin go with thee! You thought to drown me naked and bare, But take your cloaths with thee, And if there be seven king’s daughters there Bear you them company.’
13 She lap on her milk steed And fast she bent the way, And she was at her father’s yate Three long hours or day.
14 Up and speaks the wylie parrot, So wylily and slee: ‘Where is the man now, May Collin, That gaed away wie thee?’
15 ‘Hold your tongue, my wylie parrot, And tell no tales of me, And where I gave a pickle befor It’s now I’ll give you three.’
* * * * *
1^{1,2}. One line: May Collin was her father’s heir.
7^4. on the.
8^4. ina? indistinct.
12^5. 7.
5. Gil Brenton.
P. 63 b. #Swedish.# ‘Riddar Olof,’ Lagus, Nyländska Folkvisor, I, 63, No 16, a, b, imperfect copies.
64 b. #Danish.# ‘Den rette Brudgom’ (Samson and Vendelru), Kristensen, Jyske Folkeminder, X, 363, No 97.
65 b. ‘Herr Peders Hustru,’ the same, p. 365,==Grundtvig, No 278.
70. #B#. The three stanzas which follow were communicated to Scott by Major Henry Hutton, Royal Artillery, 24th December, 1802 (Letters, I, No 77), as recollected by his father and the family. “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 18. Instead of 3, 4:
There’s five o them with meal and malt, And other five wi beef and salt; There’s five o them wi well-bak’d bread, And other five wi goud so red.
There’s five o them wi the ladies bright, There’s other five o belted knights; There’s five o them wi a good black neat, And other five wi bleating sheep.
“And before the two last stanzas, introduce”
O there was seald on his breast-bane, ‘Cospatric is his father’s name;’ O there was seald on his right hand He should inherit his father’s land.
so is written over the second and in 1^2.
7. Earl Brand.
P. 88. ‘Ribold og Guldborg:’ Kristensen, Jyske Folkeminder, X, 33, ‘Nævnet til døde,’ No 15, #A-I#.
91 b. #Swedish.# ‘Kung Valdemo,’ ‘Ellibrand och Fröken Gyllenborg,’ Lagus, Nyländska Folkvisor, I, 1, No 1, a, b. (“Name not my name,” a 20, b 12.)
95 b, 489 b; III, 498 a. For the whole subject, see K. Nyrop. Navnets Magt, 1887, and especially sections 4, 5, pp. 46–70. As to reluctance to have one’s name known, and the advantage such knowledge gives an adversary, see E. Clodd, in The Folk Lore Journal, VII, 154 ff., and, in continuation, Folk-Lore, I, 272.
The berserkr Glammaðr could pick off any man with his pike, if only he knew his name. Saga Egils ok Ásmundar, Rafn, Fornaldar Sögur, III, 387, Ásmundarson, F. s. Norðrlanða, III, 292. (G. L. K.)
The demonic Gelô informs certain saints who force her “to tell them how other people’s children [may] be defended from her attacks,” that if they “can write her twelve names and a half she shall never be able to come within seventy-five stadia and a half:” Thomas Wright, Essays on Subjects connected with the Literature, etc., of the Middle Ages, 1846, I, 294 (referring to Leo Allatius, De Græcorum hodie quorundam opinationibus). The passage in question is to be found at p. 127 of Leo Allatius, De templis Græcorum recentioribus, ad Ioannem Morinum; De Narthece ecclesiæ veteris; nec non De Græcorum hodie quorundam opinationibus, ad Paullum Zacchiam. Coloniæ Agrippinæ, 1645. (G. L. K.)
96 b. #Swedish.# Two copies of ‘Rosen lilla’ in Lagus, Nyländska Folkvisor, I, 37, No 10.
#Danish.# Kristensen, Jyske Folkeminder, X, 215, No 52, #C# 9, two lilies; p. 318, No 78, 9, 10, graves south and north, two lilies.
97 b. #French.# ‘Les deux Amoureux,’ Daymard, Vieux Chants p. rec. en Quercy, p. 122, lavender and tree.
97 b, 489 b, II, 498 a, III, 498 b. #Slavic.# (1.) White-Russian: he buried in church, she in ditch; plane and linden (planted); plane embraces linden. MS. (2.) Little-Russian: buried apart; plane grows over his grave, two birches over hers; branches do not interlace. Kolberg, Pokucie, p. 41. (3.) White-Russian: he in church, she near church; oak, birch (planted); trees touch. Zbiór wiado do antropol., XIII, 102 f. (4.) Little-Russian: burial apart in a church; rosemary and lily from graves. Var.: rose and sage, rosemary; flowers interlace. Holovatzky, III, 254. (J. Karłowicz, in Mélusine, V, 39 ff.)
#Bulgarian.# A poplar from the maid’s grave, a pine from her lover’s: Collection of the Bulgarian Ministry of Instruction, I, 35. (W. W.)
97 b, 490 a, III, 498 b. #Breton.# Luzel, Soniou, I, 272–3: a tree from the young man’s grave, a rose from the maid’s.
99 ff., 490 ff. ‘The Earl o Bran,’ “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 22 b, Abbotsford; in the handwriting of Richard Heber.
1 Did ye ever hear o guid Earl o Bran An the queen’s daughter o the south-lan?
2 She was na fifteen years o age Till she came to the Earl’s bed-side.
3 ‘O guid Earl o Bran, I fain wad see My grey hounds run over the lea.’
4 ‘O kind lady, I have no steeds but one, But ye shall ride, an I shall run.’
5 ‘O guid Earl o Bran, but I have tua, An ye shall hae yere wael o those.’
6 The’re ovr moss an the’re over muir, An they saw neither rich nor poor.
7 Till they came to ald Carl Hood, He’s ay for ill, but he’s never for good.
8 ‘O guid Earl o Bran, if ye loe me, Kill Carl Hood an gar him die.’
9 ‘O kind lady, we had better spare; I never killd ane that wore grey hair.
10 ‘We’ll gie him a penny-fie an let him gae, An then he’ll carry nae tiddings away.’
11 ‘Where hae been riding this lang simmer-day? Or where hae stolen this lady away?’
12 ‘O I hae not riden this lang simmer-day, Nor hae I stolen this lady away.
13 ‘For she is my sick sister I got at the Wamshester.’
14 ‘If she were sick an like to die, She wad na be wearing the gold sae high.’
15 Ald Carl Hood is over the know, Where they rode one mile, he ran four.
16 Till he came to her mother’s yetts, An I wat he rapped rudely at.
17 ‘Where is the lady o this ha?’ ‘She’s out wie her maidens, playing at the ba.’
18 ‘O na! fy na! For I met her fifteen miles awa.
19 ‘She’s over moss, an she’s over muir, An a’ to be the Earl o Bran’s whore.’
20 Some rode wie sticks, an some wie rungs, An a’ to get the Earl o Bran slain.
21 That lady lookd over her left shoudder-bane: ‘O guid Earl o Bran, we’ll a’ be taen! For yond’r a’ my father’s men.
22 ‘But if ye’ll take my claiths, I’ll take thine, An I’ll fight a’ my father’s men.’
23 ‘It’s no the custom in our land For ladies to fight an knights to stand.
24 ‘If they come on me ane by ane, I’ll smash them a’ doun bane by bane.
25 ‘If they come on me ane and a’, Ye soon will see my body fa.’
26 He has luppen from his steed, An he has gein her that to had.
27 An bad her never change her cheer Untill she saw his body bleed.
28 They came on him ane by ane, An he smashed them doun a’ bane by bane.
29 He sat him doun on the green grass, For I wat a wearit man he was.
30 But ald Carl Hood came him behind, An I wat he gae him a deadly wound.
31 He’s awa to his lady then, He kissed her, an set her on her steed again.
32 He rode whistlin out the way, An a’ to hearten his lady gay.
33 ‘Till he came to the water-flood: ‘O guid Earl o Bran, I see blood!’
34 ‘O it is but my scarlet hood, That shines upon the water-flood.’
35 They came on ‘till his mother’s yett, An I wat he rappit poorly at.
36 His mother she’s come to the door: ‘O son, ye’ve gotten yere dead wie an Eng_lish_ wh_o_re!’
37 ‘She was never a wh_o_re to me; Sae let my brother her husband be.’
38 Sae ald Carl Hood was not the dead o ane, But he was the dead o hale seeventeen.
Note at the end: I have not written the chorus, but Mr Leyden, having it by him, knows how to insert it.
“Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 22 d. In the handwriting of William Laidlaw. Scott has written at the head, Earl Bran, another copy.
1 Earl Bran’s a wooing gane; Ae lalie, O lilly lalie He woo’d a lady, an was bringing her hame. O the gae knights o Airly
2 . . . . . . . . They met neither wi rich nor poor.
3 Till they met wi an auld palmer Hood, Was ay for ill, an never for good.
4 ‘O yonder is an auld palmer Heed: Tak your sword an kill him dead.’
5 ‘Gude forbid, O ladie fair, That I kill an auld man an grey hair.
6 ‘We’ll gie him a an forbid him to tell;’ The gae him a an forbad him to tell.
7 The auld man than he’s away hame, He telld o Jane whan he gaed hame.
8 ‘I thought I saw her on yon moss, Riding on a milk-white horse.
9 ‘I thought I saw her on yon muir; By this time she’s Earl Bran’s wh_ore_.’
10 Her father he’s ca’d on his men: ‘Gae follow, an fetch her again.’
11 She’s lookit oer her left shoulder: ‘O yonder is my father’s men!
12 ‘O yonder is my father’s men: Take my cleadin, an I’ll take thine.’
13 ‘O that was never law in land, For a ladie to feiht an a knight to stand.
14 ‘But if yer father’s men come ane an ane, Stand ye by, an ye’ll see them slain.
15 ‘If they come twae an twae, Stand ye by, an ye’ll see them gae.
16 ‘And if they come three an three, Stand ye by, an ye’ll see them die.’
17 Her father’s men came ane an ane, She stood by . . . .
18 Than they cam by twae an twae, . . . . . . .
19 Than they cam by three an three, . . . . . . .
20 But ahint him cam the auld palmer Hood, An ran him outthro the heart’s blood.
21 ‘I think I see your heart’s blood:’ ‘It’s but the glistering o your scarlet hood.’
* * * * * *
* * * * *
7^1. MS., he’s *, and, in the margin, * away has been gane. Over away hame is written thre them (==thrae, frae, them), or, perhaps, thre than.
20^1. MS., palmer weed: cf. 3^1, 4^1.
20^2. outr thro.
P. 100, #B#; 489 b, 492, #I#. The printed copy used by Scott was ‘Lord Douglas’ Tragedy,’ the first of four pieces in a stall-pamphlet, “licensed and entered, 1792:” “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 1. #I# is another edition of the same. The variations from #I# are as follows:
* * * * *
1^1, says.
2^2. your arms.
3^4. father who.
4^3. seven wanting.
4^4. just now.
5^1. better for (the obvious misprint) bitter.
5^3. once that.
6^1. Hold your hand.
7^2. wounds.
7^4. forkd in the.
8^1. Lady Margret.
9^3, 13^3. blue gilded, as in #I#, for bugelet: hanging down.
9^4, 13^4. slowly they both.
10^3. yon clear river-side.
11^3. his pretty.
12^3. ’Tis nothing.
15^2. soft.
16^2. long ere day.
16^4. died wanting.
17^1. St for Lady.
17^3. sprung.
18^2. be near.
18^3. ye: weil.
8. Erlinton.
P. 107. The two copies from which (with some editorial garnish and filling out) #A# was compounded were: #a#. “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 20, obtained from Nelly Laidlaw, and in the handwriting of William Laidlaw; #b#. ‘Earlington’s Daughter,’ the same collection, No 11, in the handwriting of James Hogg. The differences are purely verbal, and both copies may probably have been derived from the same reciter; still, since only seven or eight verses in sixty-eight agree, both will be given entire, instead of a list of the variations.
#a.# 1 Lord Erlinton had ae daughter, I trow he’s weird her a grit sin; For he has bugn a bigly bower, An a’ to pit his ae daughter in. An he has buggin, etc.
2 An he has warn her sisters six, Her sisters six an her brethren se’en, Thei’r either to watch her a’ the night, Or than to gang i the mornin soon.
3 She had na been i that bigly bower Not ae night but only ane Untill that Willie, her true-love, Chappit at the bower-door, no at the gin.
4 ‘Whae’s this, whae’s this chaps at my bower-door, At my bower-door, no at the gin?’ ‘O it is Willie, thy ain true-love; O will ye rise an let me in?’
5 ‘In my bower, Willie, there is a wane, An in the wane there is a wake; But I will come to the green woods The morn, for my ain true-love’s sake.’
6 This lady she’s lain down again, An she has lain till the cock crew thrice; She said unto her sisters baith, Lasses, it’s time at we soud rise.
7 She’s putten on her breast a silver tee, An on her back a silken gown; She’s taen a sister in ilka hand, An away to the bonnie green wood she’s gane.
8 They hadna gane a mile in that bonnie green wood, They had na gane a mile but only ane, Till they met wi Willie, her ain true-love, An thrae her sisters he has her taen.
9 He’s taen her sisters ilk by the hand, He’s kissd them baith, an he’s sent them hame; He’s muntit his ladie him high behind, An thro the bonnie green wood thei’r gane.
10 They’d ridden a mile i that bonnie green wood, They hadna ridden but only ane, When there cam fifteen o the baldest knights That ever boor flesh, bluid an bane.
11 Than up bespak the foremost knight, He woor the gray hair on his chin; ‘Yield me yer life or your lady fair, An ye sal walk the green woods within.’
12 ‘For to gie my wife to thee, I wad be very laith,’ said he; ‘For than the folk wad think I was gane mad, Or that the senses war taen frae me.’
13 Up than bespak the niest foremost knight, I trow he spak right boustrouslie; ‘Yield me yer life or your ladie fair, An ye sall walk the green woods wi me.’
14 ‘My wife, she is my warld’s meed, My life, it lyes me very near; But if ye be man o your manhood I serve will while my days are near.’
15 He’s luppen off his milk-white steed, He’s gien his lady him by the head: ‘See that ye never change yer cheer Till ance ye see my body bleed.’
16 An he’s killd a’ the fifteen knights, He’s killed them a’ but only ane; A’ but the auld grey-headed knight, He bade him carry the tiddins hame.
17 He’s gane to his lady again, I trow he’s kissd her, baith cheek an chin; ‘Now ye’r my ain, I have ye win, An we will walk the green woods within.’
* * * * *
2^3. Their struck out.
9^3. muntit struck out, and set written above.
12^3. than struck out.
14^4. while, are, struck out, and till, be, written above.
16^4. tiddins: one d struck out. These changes would seem to be somebody’s editorial improvements.
Wi me in 13^4 sacrifices sense to rhyme. We are to understand in 11^{3,4}, 13^{3,4} that Willie is to die if he will not give up the lady, but if he will resign her he may live, and walk the wood at his pleasure. 14^4 is corrupt in both texts.
#b.# 1 O Earlington, he has ae daughter, And I wot he has ward her in a great sin; He has buggin to her a bigly bowr, And a’ to put his daughter in.
2 O he has warnd her sisters six, Her sisters six and her brethren seven, Either to watch her a’ the night, Or else to search her soon at morn.
3 They had na been a night in that bigly bowr, ’Tis not a night but barely ane, Till there was Willie, her ain true-love, Rappd at the door, and knew not the gin.
4 ‘Whoe’s this, whoe’s this raps at my bowr-door, Raps at my bowr-door, and knows not the gin?’ ‘O it is Willie, thy ain true-love; I pray thee rise and let me in.’
5 ‘O in my bower, Willie, there is a wake, And in the wake there is a wan; But I’ll come to the green wood the morn, To the green wood for thy name’s sake.’
6 O she has gaen to her bed again, And a wait she has lain till the cock crew thrice; Then she said to her sisters baith, Lasses, ’tis time for us to rise.
7 She’s puten on her back a silken gown, And on her breast a silver tie; She’s taen a sister in ilka hand, And thro the green wood they are gane.
8 They had na walkt a mile in that good green wood, ’Tis not a mile but barely ane, Till there was Willie, her ain true-love, And from her sisters he has her taen.
9 He’s taen her sisters by the hand, He kist them baith, he sent them hame; He’s taen his lady him behind, And thro the green wood they are gane.
10 They had na ridden a mile in the good green wood, ’Tis not a mile but barely ane, Till there was fifteen of the boldest knights That ever bore flesh, blood or bane.
11 The foremost of them was an aged knight, He wore the gray hair on his chin: ‘Yield me thy life or thy lady bright, And thou shalt walk these woods within.’
12 ‘’Tis for to give my lady fair To such an aged knight as thee, People wad think I were gane mad, Or else the senses taen frae me.’
13 Up then spake the second of them, And he spake ay right bousterously; ‘Yield me thy life or thy lady bright, And thou shalt walk these woods within.’
14 ‘My wife, she is my warld’s meed, My life it lies me very near; But if you’ll be man of your manheed, I’ll serve you till my days be near.’
15 He’s lighted of his milk-white steed, He’s given his lady him by the head: ‘And see ye dinna change your cheer Till you do see my body bleed.’
16 O he has killd these fifteen lords, And he has killd them a’ but ane, And he has left that old aged knight, And a’ to carry the tidings hame.
17 O he’s gane to his lady again, And a wait he has kist her, baith cheek and chin: ‘Thou art my ain love, I have thee bought, And thou shalt walk these woods within.’
5. wake should be wane and wan wake, as in #A#.
10. The Twa Sisters.
P. 119 a. #Danish.# ‘De talende Strenge,’ Kristensen, Jyske Folkeminder, X, 68, 375, No 19, #A-E#.
119 b. #Swedish.# ‘De två systrarna,’ Lagus, Nyländska Folkvisor, I, 27, No 7, a, b; the latter imperfect.
124 b. Bohemian, Waldau, Böhmische Granaten, II, 97, No 137 (with the usual variations).
125 b, 493 b; II, 498 b; III, 499 a. Add: ‘Les roseaux qui chantent,’ Revue des Traditions Populaires, IV, 463, V, 178; ‘La rose de Pimperlé,’ Meyrac, Traditions, etc., des Ardennes, p. 486 ff.; ‘L’os qui chante,’ seven Walloon versions, E. Monseur, Bulletin de Folklore Wallon, I, 39 ff.
128. #C.# ‘The Cruel Sister,’ “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 16; communicated to Scott by Major Henry Hutton, Royal Artillery, December 24, 1802 (Letters, I, No 77), as recollected by his father “and the family.”
1 There were twa sisters in a bowr, Binnorie, O Binnorie The eldest was black and the youngest fair. By the bonny milldams o Binnorie
After 13 (or as 14): Your rosie cheeks and white hause-bane Garrd me bide lang maiden at hame.
After 15: The miller’s daughter went out wi speed To fetch some water to make her bread.
After 17: He coud not see her fingers sma, For the goud rings they glistend a’. He coud na see her yellow hair For pearlin and jewels that were so rare.
And when he saw her white hause-bane Round it hung a gouden chain.
He stretched her owt-our the bra And moanëd her wi mekle wa.
“Then, at the end, introduce the following” (which, however, are not traditional).
The last tune the harp did sing, ‘And yonder stands my false sister Alison.
‘O listen, listen, all my kin, ’Twas she wha drownd me in the lin.’
And when the harp this song had done It brast a’ o pieces oer the stane.
“Alison. The writer of these additional stanzas understands the name was Alison, and not Helen.” Alison occurs in #D#, #K#.
Pp. 133, 139. #L.# Anna Seward to Walter Scott, April 25–29, 1802: Letters addressed to Sir Walter Scott, I, No 54, Abbotsford. “The Binnorie of endless repetition has nothing truly pathetic, and the ludicrous use made of the drowned sister’s body is well burlesqued in a ridiculous ballad, which I first heard sung, with farcial grimace, in my infancy [born 1747], thus:”
1 And O was it a pheasant cock, Or eke a pheasant hen? Or was it and a gay lady, Came swimming down the stream?
2 O it was not a pheasant cock, Or eke a pheasant hen, But it was and a gay lady, Came swimming down the stream.
3 And when she came to the mill-dam The miller he took her body, And with it he made him a fiddling thing, To make him sweet melody.
4 And what did he do with her fingers small? He made of them pegs to his vial.
5 And what did he do with her nose-ridge? Why to his fiddle he made it a bridge. Sing, O the damnd mill-dam, O
6 And what did he do with her veins so blue? Why he made him strings his fiddle unto.
7 And what did he do with her two shins? Why to his vial they dancd Moll Sims.
8 And what did he do with her two sides? Why he made of them sides to his fiddle besides.
9 And what did he do with her great toes? Why what he did with them that nobody knows. Sing, O the damnd mill-dam, O
For 4, 5, 6, 7, see #A# 8, 9, 10, 13.
P. 137. MS. of Thomas Wilkie, p. 1, in “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 32; taken down “from a Miss Nancy Brockie, Bemerside.” 1813.
1 There were twa sisters sat in a bower, By Nera and by Nora The youngest was the fairest flower. Of all the mill-dams of Bennora
2 It happened upon a bonnie summer’s day The eldest to the youngest did say: In the bonnie mill-dams of Bennora
3 ‘We must go and we shall go To see our brother’s ships come to land.’ In, etc. (and throughout).
4 ‘I winna go and I downa go, For weeting the corks o my coal-black shoes.’
5 She set her foot into a rash-bush, To see how tightly she was dressd.
6 But the youngest sat upon a stone, But the eldest threw the youngest in.
7 ‘O sister, oh sister, come lend me your hand, And draw my life into dry land!’
8 ‘You shall not have one bit o my hand; Nor will I draw you to dry land.’
9 ‘O sister, O sister, come lend me your hand, And you shall have Sir John and all his land.’
10 ‘You shall not have one bit o my hand, And I’ll have Sir John and all his land.
11 The miller’s daughter, clad in red, Came for some water to bake her bread.
12 ‘O father, O father, go fish your mill-dams, For there either a swan or a drownd woman.’
13 You wad not have seen one bit o her waist, The body was swelld, and the stays strait laced.
14 You wad not have seen one bit o her neck, The chains of gold they hang so thick.
15 He has taen a tait of her bonnie yellow hair, He’s tied it to his fiddle-strings there.
16 The verry first spring that that fiddle playd Was, Blest be [the] queen, my mother! [it] has said.
17 The verry next spring that that fiddle playd Was, Blest be Sir John, my own true-love!
18 The very next spring that that fiddle playd Was, Burn my sister for her sins!
4^2. Written at first my black heeld shoes.
12^2. swain.
17^2. thy own.
11. The Cruel Brother.
#P.# 142 b, 496 a, III, 499 a. #B# was repeated by Salvadori in Giornale di Filologia Romanza, II, 197; and #E# was first published by Mazzatinti in IV, 69, of the same.
142 f. A variety of ‘Graf Friedrich’ in Hruschka u. Toischer, Deutsche Volkslieder aus Böhmen, p. 101, No 25.
143 b. III, 499. Testament. ‘Hr. Adelbrand,’ Kristensen, Jyske Folkeminder, #X#, 227, 232, No 54, #A#, 20 ff., #F#, 10 ff.==‘Herr Radibrand och lilla Lena,’ ‘Skön Helena och riddaren Hildebrand,’ Lagus, Nyländska Folkvisor, I, 89, No 25, a, b.
‘Adelbrand’ is No 311 of Danmarks gamle Folkeviser, V, II, 297, ed. Olrik, of which the versions that have been cited in this book are #B#, #K e#, #G e#, #F#, #K b#, #I#. There is a testament in other copies of the same. Also in No 320, not yet published.
145 ff. “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 22 a. In the handwriting of William Laidlaw; “from Jean Scott.”
There was three ladies playd at the ba, With a hey hey an a lilly gay
Bye cam three lords an woo’d them a’. Whan the roses smelld sae sweetly
The first o them was clad in yellow: ‘O fair may, will ye be my marrow?’ Whan the roses smell, etc.
The niest o them was clad i ried: ‘O fair may, will ye be my bride?’
The thrid o them was clad i green: He said, O fair may, will ye be my queen?
12. Lord Randal.
Pp. 152 b, 498 b, III, 499 b. #Italian.# Add #L#, ‘'U Cavalieru Traditu;’ communicated to La Calabria, October 15, 1888, p. 5, ‘Storie popolari Acresi,’ by Antonio Julia.
154 a. #Danish.# ‘Den forgivne Søster’ (with testament), Kristensen, Jyske Folkeminder, X, 358, No 92.
156 b. Vuk, I, No 302, is translated by Bowring, p. 143.
157 ff., 499 ff. “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 22 g, in the handwriting of William Laidlaw.
1 ‘Where ha ye been, Lord Randal, my son?’ ‘I been at the huntin, mother, mak my bed soon; I’m weariet wi huntin, I fain wad lie down.’
2 ‘What gat ye to yer supper, Lord Randal, my son?’ ‘An eel boild i broo, mother, mak my bed soon; I’m,’ etc.
3 ‘What gat yer dogs, Earl Randal, my son?’ ‘The broo o the eel, mother,’ etc.
4 ‘What leave [ye] yer false love, Lord Randal, my son?’ ‘My goud silken garters, to hang hersel on; I’m,’ etc.
4^1. leave year.
* * * * *
U
Letters addressed to Sir Walter Scott, XX, No 77, Abbotsford; from Joseph Jamieson Archibald, Largs, 18th February, 1830.
“By the bye! How does your copy of ‘Willie Doo’ go? Or is it the same as our ‘Auld Nursery Lilt,’ better known by the name of ‘My Wee Croodling Doo’? To give you every justice, I shall copy a stanza or two.”
1 ‘Whare were ye the lea lang day, My wee crooding doo, doo?’ ‘I hae been at my step-dame’s; Mammy, mak my bed noo, noo!’
2 ‘Whare gat she the wee, wee fish?’ ‘She gat it neist the edder-flowe.’
3 ‘What did she wi the fishie’s banes?’ ‘The wee black dog gat them to eat.’
4 ‘What did the wee black doggie then?’ ‘He shot out his fittie an deed; An sae maun I now too, too.’ Etc.
“The wee crooding doo next received a fatal drink, and syne a lullaby, when his bed was made ‘baith saft an fine,’ while his lang fareweel and dying lamentation was certainly both trying and afflicting to the loving parents.” The drink after the fish was a senseless interpolation; the ‘lang fareweel’ was probably the testament of the longer ballad.
500. The title of #Q# in the MS. is ‘Lord Randal;’ of #R#, ‘Little wee toorin dow.’
14. Babylon, or, The Bonnie Banks o Fordie.
P. 171 a. #Danish.# ‘Herr Tures Døtre,’ Kristensen, Jyske Folkeminder, X, 294, No 72.
15. Leesome Brand.
P. 178 a. ‘Jomfru i Hindeham,’ D. g. F. No 58, Kristensen, Jyske Folkeminder, X, 14, No 7.
179 a, III, 500 b. #Danish#, II, ‘Barnefødsel i Lunden,’ six copies and a fragment, in Kristensen’s Skattegraveren, X, 145 ff., Nos 416–22, 1888. (‘Sadlen for trang, vejen for lang,’ 416, 17, 20; man’s help, 416, 419; children buried alive, 417, 18, 22; sister and brother, 418; lilies from grave, 416, 17.) ‘Skjøn Medler,’ Kristensen, Jyske Folkeminder, X, 182, No 46, #A-H#. (Saddle, way, #A#; man’s help, #A#, #B#, #E#, #F#, #H#; children buried alive, #A#, #B#, #C#, #E#, #F#.)
#Swedish.# ‘Herr Riddervall,’ Lagus, Nyländska Folkvisor, I, 75, No 20.
16. Sheath and Knife.
P. 186. #D# is in or from T. Lyle’s Ancient Ballads and Songs, 1827, p. 241. Scott, as Lyle says, has nearly the same burden in a stanza (of his own?) which he makes E. Deans sing, in The Heart of Mid-Lothian.
17. Hind Horn.
P. 193 b (2). ‘Hr. Lovmand,’ Kristensen, Jyske Folkeminder, X, 252, No 62, #A-D#.
194 ff., 502 f.; II, 499 b; III, 501 b. Ring stories. Cf. MacInnes, Folk and Hero Tales (Argyllshire), 1890, p. 157. (G. L. K.)
Bulgarian ballad.—Stojan is married on Sunday; on Monday he is ordered to join the army. His wife gives him a posy, which will remain fresh until she marries another man. He serves nine years; the tenth the queen discovers from his talk that he has a wife, and gives him permission to go home. He arrives the very day on which his wife is to be remarried, goes to the wedding, and asks her to kiss his hand and accept a gift from him. She recognizes him by the ring on his hand, sends off the guests, and goes home with him. Collection of the Ministry of Instruction, I, 39. In a variant, Verković, p. 329, No 301, the man is gone three years, and arrives just as the wedding procession comes for the bride. (W. W.)
198 b. ‘Le Retour du Mari.’ ‘Un Retour de Guerre’ (cards), Daymard, pp. 203, 4.
202 a, III, 501 b. For more of these curiosities (in Salman u. Morolf, Orendel, Virginal, Laurin, etc.), see Vogt’s note, p. 181 (248 ff.), to Salman u. Morolf.
206. #H.# I have received from Mr Walker, of Aberdeen, author of ‘The Bards of Bonaccord,’ a copy of ‘Hind Horn’ which was taken down by a correspondent of his on lower Deeside about 1880. It closely resembles #G# and #H#. Collated with #H#, the more note-worthy variations are as follows:
1^1. Hey how, bound, lovie, hey how, free.
6^2. An the glintin o ‘t was aboon.
10. An when he looked the ring upon, O but it was pale an wan!
13^2. What news, what news is in this lan?
19. Ye’ll ging up to yon high hill, An ye’ll blaw yer trumpet loud an shrill.
20. Doun at yon gate ye will enter in, And at yon stair ye will stan still.
21. Ye’ll seek meat frae ane, ye’ll seek meat frae twa, Ye’ll seek meat fra the highest to the lowest o them a’.
22. But it’s out o their hans an ye will tak nane Till it comes out o the bride’s ain han.
26^2. Wi the links o the yellow gowd in her hair.
After 27: An when she looked the ring upon, O but she grew pale an wan!
After 28: Or got ye it frae ane that is far, far away, To gie unto me upon my weddin-day?
30. But I got it frae you when I gaed away, To gie unto you on your weddin-day.
32. It’s I’ll gang wi you for evermore, An beg my bread frae door to door.
502 a. There can hardly be a doubt that the two stanzas cited belonged to ‘The Kitchie-Boy,’ ‘Bonny Foot-Boy,’ No 252. Cf. #A# 34, 35, #B# 47, #D# 7, 8, of that ballad.
18. Sir Lionel.
P. 209 b. ‘Blow thy horne, hunter.’ Found, with slight variations, in Add. MS. 31922, British Museum, 39, b (Henry VIII): Ewald, in Anglia, XII, 238.
19. King Orfeo.
P. 215. The relations of the Danish ‘Harpens Kraft,’ and incidentally those of this ballad, to the English romance are discussed, with his usual acuteness, by Professor Sophus Bugge in Arkiv för nordisk Filologi, VII, 97 ff., 1891. See II, 137, of this collection.
20. The Cruel Mother.
P. 218 b, III, 502 a. ‘Barnemordersken,’ Kristensen, Jyske Folkeminder, X, 356, No 90, #A#, #B#.
219 b, 504 a, II, 500 a, III, 502 b. Add: #Q#, #R#, Hruschka u. Toischer, Deutsche Volkslieder aus Böhmen, p. 129, No 40 a, b.
220 ff. #a.# MS. of Thomas Wilkie, p. 4, in “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 33. “Taken down from Mrs Hislope, Gattonside. The air is plaintive and very wild.” 1813. #b.# “Scotch Ballads, Materials,” etc., No 113; in the hand of T. Wilkie.
1 As I looked over my father’s castle-wa, All alone and alone, O I saw two pretty babes playing at the ba. Down by yone greenwood side, O
2 ‘O pretty babes, if ye were mine,’ All alone, etc., ‘I would clead you o the silk so fine.’ Alone by the, etc.
3 ‘O mother dear, when we were thine, Ye houket a hole fornent the sun,’ And laid yer two babes in, O
4 ‘O pretty babes, if ye were mine, I would feed you wi the morning’s milk.’ Alone by, etc.
5 ‘O mother dear, when we were thine, Ye houket a hole fornent the sun. And laid yer two babes in, O.
6 ‘But we are in the heavens high, And ye hae the pains of hell to dri.’ Alone by, etc.
7 ‘O pretty babes, pray weel for me!’ ‘Aye, mother, as ye did for we.’ Down by, etc.
* * * * *
#a.#
3^1. when that ye had done is written above we were thine.
#b.#
1. Burden, second line, by the.
2^2. with the.
After 2:
‘O mother dear, when we were thine, Ye stabd us wi your little penknife.’ Down by the, etc.
3^1. when that ye had done.
4, 5. Wanting.
6. Burden, second line, Down by the, etc.
The copy at II, 500 b (Pepys, V, 4, No 2), is also in the Crawford collection, No 1127, and in that from the Osterley Park library, British Museum, C. 39. k. 6 (60). It is dated 1688–95 in the Crawford catalogue, and 1690? in the Museum catalogue.
The text printed II, 500 is here corrected according to the Museum copy.
2^1. lovd.
3^2. for her heaviness.
6^2. pritty.
8^1. long and sharp.
12^2. other as naked as.
13^2. would.
14^2. dress us.
21^1, 22^1. O mother, O mother.
23^1. Alass! said.
After 10, etc.: hair and.
Title: Infants whom.
Imprint: London: Printed, etc.: Guiltspur.
(9^2, 19^2. have into, wrongly.)
21. The Maid and the Palmer.
P. 228, III, 502. ‘Synderinden,’ Kristensen, Jyske Folkeminder, X, 71, No 20.
Swedish #K# is repeated in Lagus, Nyländska Folkvisor, I, 105, No 32.
230 b. A Bohemian ballad, to the same effect, in Waldau’s Böhmische Granaten, II, 210, No 299.
231, III, 502 b. #French.# #A# has been printed by Rolland, Chansons Populaires, VI, 22, o (it is folio 60 of the MS.). Two other before unprinted versions p, q, at pp. 25, 26, of Rolland.
232, 504 b. ‘Maria Maddalena,’ three stanzas only, Archivio, VIII, 323, Canti Parmigiani, No 2.
22. St Stephen and Herod.
P. 236 a. #French.# ‘Trois Pelerins de Dieu,’ Meyrac, Traditions, etc., des Ardennes, p. 280.
240 f., 505 f., II, 501 b. Add:
Cantou il gatsu: ¡Cristu naciú! Dixu il buey: ¿Agú? Dixu la ubecha: ¡En Bilén! Dixu la cabra: ¡Catsa, cascarra, Que nació en Grenada!
Munthe, Folkpoesi från Asturien, III, No 24, cited by Pitrè in Archivio, VIII, 141.
“Quando Christo nasceu, disse o gallo: Jesus-Christo é ná ... á ... á ... do.” Leite de Vasconcellos, Tradições pop. de Portugal, p. 148, No 285 b.
241. Greek ballad, The Taking of Constantinople. There is a Bulgarian version. A roasted cock crows, fried fish come to life: Sbornik of the Ministry of Public Instruction, II, 82. In other ballads the same incident is transferred to the downfall of Bulgaria: Kačanofskij, p. 235, No 116; Sbornik, II, 129, 2, and II, 131, 2. (W. W.)
24. Bonnie Annie.
P. 245 ff. The Rev. S. Baring-Gould has recently found this ballad in South Devon.
#a.# Taken down from a man of above eighty years at Bradstone. #b.# From a young man at Dartmoor. #c.# From an old man at Holne.
1 ‘T was of a sea-captain came oer the salt billow, He courted a maiden down by the green willow: ‘O take of your father his gold and his treasure, O take of your mother her fee without measure.’
2 ‘I’ll take of my father his gold and his treasure, I’ll take of my mother her fee without measure:’ She has come with the captain unto the sea-side, O, ‘We’ll sail to lands foreign upon the blue tide, O!’
3 And when she had sailed today and tomorrow, She was beating her hands, she was crying in sorrow; And when she had sailed the days were not many, The sails were outspread, but of miles made not any.
4 And when she had sailed today and tomorrow, She was beating her hands, she was crying in sorrow; And when she had sailed not many a mile, O, The maid was delivered of a beautiful child, O.
5 . . . . . . . . .
6 ‘O take a white napkin, about my head bind it! O take a white napkin, about my feet wind it! Alack! I must sink, both me and my baby, Alack! I must sink in the deep salten water.
7 ‘O captain, O captain, here’s fifty gold crown, O, I pray thee to bear me and turn the ship round, O; O captain, O captain, here’s fifty gold pound, O, If thou wilt but set me upon the green ground, O.’
8 ‘O never, O never! the wind it blows stronger, O never, O never! the time it grows longer; And better it were that thy baby and thou, O, Should drown than the crew of the vessel, I vow, O.’
9 ‘O get me a boat that is narrow and thin, O, And set me and my little baby therein, O:’ ‘O no, it were better that thy baby and thou, O, Should drown than the crew of the vessel, I vow, O.’
10 They got a white napkin, about her head bound it, They got a white napkin, about her feet wound it; They cast her then overboard, baby and she, O, Together to sink in the cruel salt sea, O.
11 The moon it was shining, the tide it was running; O what in the wake of the vessel was swimming? ‘O see, boys! O see how she floats on the water! O see, boys! O see! the undutiful daughter!
12 ‘Why swim in the moonlight, upon the sea swaying? O what art thou seeking? for what art thou praying?’ ‘O captain, O captain, I float on the water; For the sea giveth up the undutiful daughter.
13 ‘O take of my father the gold and the treasure, O take of my mother her fee without measure; O make me a coffin of gold that is yellow, And bury me under the banks of green willow!’
14 ‘I will make thee a coffin of gold that is yellow, I’ll bury thee under the banks of green willow; I’ll bury thee there as becometh a lady, I’ll bury thee there, both thou and thy baby.’
15 The sails they were spread, and the wind it was blowing, The sea was so salt, and the tide it was flowing; They steered for the land, and they reachd the shore, O, But the corpse of the maiden had reachd there before, O.
#b.#
1^{1,2}. There was a sea-captain came to the sea-side, O, He courted a damsel and got her in trouble.
13^3. coffin of the deepest stoll yellow.
15^4. But the mother and baby had got there before, O.
#c.#
1 ’Tis of a sea-captain, down by the green willow, He courted a damsel and brought her in trouble; When gone her mother’s good will and all her father’s money, She fled across the wide sea along with her Johnny.
2 They had not been sailing the miles they were many Before she was delivered of a beautiful baby: ‘O tie up my head! O and tie it up easy, And throw me overboard, both me and my baby!’
3 She floated on the waves, and she floated so easy, That they took her on board again, both she and her baby.
(The rest forgotten.)
25. Willie’s Lyke-Wake.
Pp. 247 ff., 506. ‘The Blue Flowers and the Yellow,’ Greenock, printed by W. Scott [1810].
1 ‘This seven long years I’ve courted a maid,’ As the sun shines over the valley ‘And she neer would consent for to be my bride.’ Among the blue flowers and the yellow
2 ‘O Jamie, O Jamie, I’ll learn you the way How your innocent love you’ll betray.
3 ‘If you will give to the bell-man a groat, And he’ll toll you down a merry night-wake.’
4 Now he has given the bell-man a groat, And he has tolld him down a merry night-wake.
5 ‘It’s I must go to my true-love’s wake, For late last night I heard he was dead.’
6 ‘Take with you your horse and boy, And give your true lover his last convoy.’
7 ‘I’ll have neither horse nor boy, But I’ll go alone, and I’ll mourn and cry.’
8 When that she came to her true-love’s hall, Then the tears they did down fall.
9 She lifted up the sheets so small, He took her in his arms and he threw her to the wa.
10 ‘It’s let me go a maid, young Jamie,’ she said, ‘And I will be your bride, and to-morrow we’ll be wed.’
11 ‘If all your friends were in this bower, You should not be a maid one quarter of an hour.
12 ‘You came here a maid meek and mild, But you shall go home both marryd and with child.’
13 He gave to her a gay gold ring, And the next day they had a gay wedding.
The unfortunate Weaver. To which are added The Farmer’s Daughter and The Blue Flowers and the Yellow. Greenock. Printed by W. Scott. [1810.] British Museum, 11621. b. 7 (43).
248 a (#C#), III, 503 a. ‘Hr. Mortens Klosterrov,’ Kristensen, Jyske Folkeminder, X, 264, No 64.
249 b, 506 a, III, 503 a. #Swedish.# ‘Herr Karl,’ Lagus, Nyländska Folkvisor, I, 51, No 12.
26. The Three Ravens.
P. 253. J. Haslewood made an entry in his copy of Ritson’s Scotish Song of a MS. Lute-Book (presented to Dr C. Burney by Dr Skene, of Marischal College, in 1781), which contained airs “noted and collected by Robert Gordon, at Aberdeen, in the year of our Lord 1627.” Among some ninety titles of tunes mentioned, there occur ‘Ther wer three ravens,’ and ‘God be with the, Geordie.’ (W. Macmath.)
“The song of ‘The Twa Corbies’ was given to me by Miss Erskine of Alva (now Mrs Kerr), who, I think, said that she had written it down from the recitation of an old woman at Alva.” C. K. Sharpe to Scott, August 8, 1802, Letters, I, 70, Abbotsford; printed in Sharpe’s Letters, ed. Allardyce, I, 136.
29. The Boy and the Mantle.
P. 268 a. #Flowers.# 2. A garland, Kathá Sarit Ságara, Tawney’s translation, II, 601.
269 b. The chaste Sítá clears herself of unjust suspicion by passing safely over a certain lake: Kathá Sarit Ságara, Tawney’s translation, I, 486 f.
A chessboard that can be “mated” only by one that has never been false in love: English Prose Merlin, ed. Wheatley, ch. 21, vol. i, part II, p. 363. (G. L. K.)
31. The Marriage of Sir Gawain.
P. 289, II, 502 b. On the loathly damsel in the Perceval of Chrestien de Troyes, see The Academy, October 19, 1889, p. 255. (G. L. K.)
290, note †. One shape by day, another by night: Curtin, Myths and Folk-Lore of Ireland, 1890, pp. 51, 68, 69, 71, 136.
32. King Henry.
P. 298 b. Second paragraph. Prince as lindworm restored by maid’s lying in bed with him one night: ‘Lindormen,’ Kristensen, Jyske Folkeminder, X, 20, No 9, Lagus, Nyländske Folkvisor, I, 97, No 29, a, b. (Lindworm asks for a kiss in a 4, b 2.)
34. Kemp Owyne.
P. 307 b. Second paragraph. ‘Jomfruen i Linden,’ Kristensen, Jyske Folkeminder, X, 22, No 10.
37. Thomas Rymer.
P. 323 ff. “Thomas the Rhymer. Variations. J. Ormiston, Kelso.” “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 96, Abbotsford; in the handwriting of John Leyden.
Her horse was o the dapple-gray, And in her hands she held bells nine: ‘Harp and carp, Thomas,’ she said, ‘For a’ thae bonny bells shall be thine.’
It was a night without delight,
And they rade on and on, I wiss, (amiss) Till they came to a garden green; He reached his hand to pu an apple, For lack o fruit he was like to tyne.
‘Now had your hand, Thomas,’ she said, ‘Had your hand, and go wi me; That is the evil fruit o hell, Beguiled man and women in your countrie.
‘O see you not that road, Thomas, That lies down by that little hill? Curst is the man has that road to gang, For it takes him to the lowest hell.
‘O see you not that road, Thomas, That lies across yon lily lea? Blest is the man has that road to gang, For it takes him to the heavens hie.
‘When ye come to my father’s ha, To see what a learned man you be They will you question, one and a’, But you must answer none but me, And I will answer them again I gat you at the Eildon tree.’
And when, etc. He answered none but that gay ladie.
‘Harp and carp, gin ye gang wi me, It shall be seven year and day Or ye return to your countrie.
‘Wherever ye gang, or wherever ye be, Ye’se bear the tongue that can never lie.
‘Gin ere ye want to see me again, Gang to the bonny banks o Farnalie.’
‘Thomas the Rhymer,’ “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 97, Abbotsford; communicated to Sir Walter Scott by Mrs Christiana Greenwood, London, May 27, 1806 (Letters, I, 189), from the recitation of her mother and of her aunt, both then above sixty, who learned it in their childhood from Kirstan Scot, a very old woman, at Longnewton, near Jedburgh.
1 Thomas lay on the Huntlie bank, A spying ferlies wi his eee, And he did spy a lady gay, Come riding down by the lang lee.
2 Her steed was o the dapple grey, And at its mane there hung bells nine; He thought he heard that lady say, ‘They gowden bells sall a’ be thine.’
3 Her mantle was o velvet green, And a’ set round wi jewels fine; Her hawk and hounds were at her side, And her bugle-horn in gowd did shine.
4 Thomas took aff baith cloak and cap, For to salute this gay lady: ‘O save ye, save ye, fair Queen o Heavn, And ay weel met ye save and see!’
5 ‘I’m no the Queen o Heavn, Thomas; I never carried my head sae hee; For I am but a lady gay, Come out to hunt in my follee.
6 ‘Now gin ye kiss my mouth, Thomas, Ye mauna miss my fair bodee; Then ye may een gang hame and tell That ye’ve lain wi a gay ladee.’
7 ‘O gin I loe a lady fair, Nae ill tales o her wad I tell, And it’s wi thee I fain wad gae, Tho it were een to heavn or hell.’
8 ‘Then harp and carp, Thomas,’ she said, ‘Then harp and carp alang wi me; But it will be seven years and a day Till ye win back to yere ain countrie.’
9 The lady rade, True Thomas ran, Untill they cam to a water wan; O it was night, and nae delight, And Thomas wade aboon the knee.
10 It was dark night, and nae starn-light, And on they waded lang days three, And they heard the roaring o a flood, And Thomas a waefou man was he.
11 Then they rade on, and farther on, Untill they came to a garden green; To pu an apple he put up his hand, For the lack o food he was like to tyne.
12 ‘O haud yere hand, Thomas,’ she cried, ‘And let that green flourishing be; For it’s the very fruit o hell, Beguiles baith man and woman o yere countrie.
13 ‘But look afore ye, True Thomas, And I shall show ye ferlies three; Yon is the gate leads to our land, Where thou and I sae soon shall be.
14 ‘And dinna ye see yon road, Thomas, That lies out-owr yon lilly lee? Weel is the man yon gate may gang, For it leads him straight to the heavens hie.
15 ‘But do you see yon road, Thomas, That lies out-owr yon frosty fell? Ill is the man yon gate may gang, For it leads him straight to the pit o hell.
16 ‘Now when ye come to our court, Thomas, See that a weel-learnd man ye be; For they will ask ye, one and all, But ye maun answer nane but me.
17 ‘And when nae answer they obtain, Then will they come and question me, And I will answer them again That I gat yere aith at the Eildon tree.
* * * * * *
18 ‘Ilka seven years, Thomas, We pay our teindings unto hell, And ye’re sae leesome and sae strang That I fear, Thomas, it will be yeresell.’
* * * * *
1^4. the Lang-lee.
12^2. flour is hing.
39. Tam Lin.
P. 335. #D a#, excepting the title and the first stanza, is in a hand not Motherwell’s.
#I a# first appeared in the second edition of the Minstrelsy, 1803, II, 245. The “gentleman residing near Langholm,” from whom Scott derived the stanzas of a modern cast, was a Mr Beattie, of Meikledale, and Scott suspected that they might be the work of some poetical clergyman or schoolmaster: letter to W. Laidlaw, January 21, 1803, cited by Carruthers, Abbotsford Notanda, appended to R. Chambers’s Life of Scott, 1871, p. 121 f.
336 b. ‘Den förtrollade prinsessan,’ Lagus, Nyländska Folkvisor, I, 67, No 17.
356 b. Add: #D c#, 12^2. aft.
340 a, II, 505 b, III, 505 b. Sleeping under an apple-tree. See also st. 14 of the version immediately following.
So Lancelot goes to sleep about noon under an apple-tree, and is enchanted by Morgan the Fay. Malory’s Morte Darthur, bk. vi, ch. 1, ch. 3, ed. Sommer, I, 183, 186. (G. L. K.)
* * * * *
K
Communicated to Scott November 11, 1812, by Hugh Irvine, Drum, Aberdeenshire, as procured from the recitation of an old woman in Buchan: Letters, V, No 137, Abbotsford. (Not in Irvine’s hand.)
1 Leady Margat stands in her boor-door, Clead in the robs of green; She longed to go to Charters Woods, To pull the flowers her lean.
2 She had not puld a rose, a rose, O not a rose but one, Till up it starts True Thomas, Said, Leady, let alone.
3 ‘Why pull ye the rose, Marget? Or why break ye the tree? Or why come ye to Charters Woods Without the leave of me?’
4 ‘I will pull the rose,’ she said, ‘And I will break the tree, For Charters Woods is all my own, And I’l ask no leave of the.’
5 He’s tean her by the milk-white hand, And by the grass-green sleeve, And laid her lo at the foot of the tree, At her he askt no leave.
6 It fell once upon a day They wer a pleaying at the ba, And every one was reed and whyte, Leady Marget’s culler was all awa.
7 Out it speaks an elder man, As he stood in the gate, ‘Our king’s daughter she gos we bern, And we will get the wait.’
8 ‘If I be we bern,’ she said, ‘My own self beer the blame! There is not a man in my father’s court Will get my bern’s name.’
9 ‘There grows a flower in Charters Woods, It grows on gravel greay, It ould destroy the boney young bern That ye got in your pley.’
10 She’s tean her mantle her about, Her green glove on her hand, And she’s awa to Charters Woods, As fest as she could gang.
11 She had no puld a pile, a pile, O not a pile but one, Up it startid True Thomas, Said, Leady, lat alean.
12 ‘Why pull ye the pile, Marget, That grows on gravel green, For to destroy the boney young bern That we got us between?’
13 ‘If it were to an earthly man, As [it is] to an elphan knight, I ould walk for my true-love’s sake All the long winter’s night.’
14 ‘When I was a boy of eleven years old, And much was made of me, I went out to my father’s garden, Fell asleep at yon aple tree: The queen of Elphan [she] came by, And laid on her hands on me.
15 ‘Elphan it’s a boney place, In it fain wid I dwall; But ey at every seven years end We pay the teene to hell: I’m so full of flesh and blood I’m sear feart for mysel.
16 ‘The morn’s Hallow Even’s night, When a’ our courts do ride, Through England and through Irland, Through a’ the world wide: And she that would her true-love borrow At Miles Corse she may bide.
17 ‘The first an court that ye come till, Ye let them a’ pass by; The next an court that ye come till, Ye hile them reverendly.
18 ‘The next an court that ye come till, An therein rides the queen, Me upon a milk-whyte steed, And a gold star in my croun; Because I am a erle’s soon, I get that for my renoun.
19 ‘Ye take me in your armes, Give me a right sear fa; The queen of Elphan she’l cry out, True Thomas is awa!
20 ‘First I’l be in your armes The fire burning so bold; Ye hold me fast, let me no pass Till I be like iron cold.
21 ‘Next I’l be in your armes The fire burning so wild; Ye hold me fast, let me no pass, I’m the father of your child.’
22 The first court that came her till, She let them a’ pass by; The nex an court that came her till, She helt them reverendly.
23 The nex an court that came her till, And therein read the queen, True Thomas on a milk-whyte steed, A gold star in his croun; Because he was a earl’s soon, He got that for his renoun.
24 She’s tean him in her arms, Geen him a right sore fa; The queen of Elphan she cried out, True Thomas is awa!
25 He was into her arms The fire burning so bold; She held him fast, let him no pass Till he was like iron cold.
26 He was into her arms The fire burning so wild; She held him fast, let him no pass, He was the father of her child.
27 The queen of Elphan she cried out, An angry woman was she, ‘Let Leady Marget an her true-love be, She’s bought him dearer than me.’
* * * * *
3^2. breat.
15^4. tune (?).
16^1. Thee.
27^2. woman is struck out.
The following fragment does not appear to have been among the “several recitals from tradition” used by Scott in making up his ballad. Some lines which it might be supposed to have furnished occur in the edition of 1802, issued before Scott’s acquaintance with Laidlaw began.
* * * * *
L
“Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 27, Abbotsford; in the handwriting of William Laidlaw.
1 I charge ye, a’ ye ladies fair, That wear goud in your hair, To come an gang bye Carterhaugh, For young Tam Lien is there.
* * * * * *
2 Then Janet kiltit her green cleadin A wee aboon her knee, An she’s gane away to Carterhaugh, As fast as she can dree.
3 When Janet cam to Carterhaugh, Tam Lien was at the wall, An there he left his steed stannin, But away he gaed his sell.
4 She had na pu’d a red, red rose, A rose but only thre, Till up then startit young Tam Lien, Just at young Jenet’s knee.
5 ‘What gars ye pu the rose, Janet, Briek branches frae the tree, An come an gang by Carterhaugh, An speir nae leave of me?’
6 ‘What need I speir leave o thee, Tam? What need I speir leave o thee, When Carterhaugh is a’ mine ain, My father gae it me?’
* * * * * *
7 She’s kiltit up her green cleadin A wee aboon her knee, An she’s away to her ain bower-door, As fast as she can dree.
* * * * * *
8 There war four-an-twentie fair ladies A’ dancin in a chess, An some war blue an some war green, But Janet was like the gress.
9 There war four-an-twentie fair ladies A’ playin at the ba, An some war red an som wer white, But Jennet was like the snaw.
* * * * *
1^3. To is doubtful; almost bound in.
6^4. gae written over left struck out.
8^2, 9^2. A’ in the MS.
* * * * *
M
“Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 15. Communicated to Scott by Major Henry Hutton, Royal Artillery, 24th December, 1802, as recollected by his father “and the family:” Letters I, No 77. Major Hutton intimates that stanzas 46–49 of the first edition of ‘Tamlane’ (‘Roxburgh was my grandfather,’ ff., corresponding to #I# 28–32) should be struck out, and his verses inserted. But 4–12 of Hutton’s stanzas belong to ‘Thomas Rymer.’
1 My father was a noble knight, And was much gi’n to play, And I myself a bonny boy, And followed him away.
2 He rowd me in his hunting-coat And layd me down to sleep, And by the queen of fairies came, And took me up to keep.
3 She set me on a milk-white steed; ’Twas o the elfin kind; His feet were shot wi beaten goud, And fleeter than the wind.
4 Then we raid on and on’ard mair, Oer mountain, hill and lee, Till we came to a hie, hie wa, Upon a mountain’s bree.
5 The apples hung like stars of goud Out-our that wa sa fine; I put my hand to pu down ane, For want of food I thought to tine.
6 ‘O had your hand, Tamas!’ she said, ‘O let that evil fruit now be! It was that apple ye see there Beguil’d man and woman in your country.
7 ‘O dinna ye see yon road, Tamas, Down by yon lilie lee? Blessd is the man who yon gate gaes, It leads him to the heavens hie.
8 ‘And dinna ye see yon road, Tamas, Down by yon frosty fell? Curst is the man that yon gate gaes, For it leads to the gates of hell.
9 ‘O dinna ye see yon castle, Tamas, That’s biggit between the twa, And theekit wi the beaten goud? O that’s the fairies’ ha.
10 ‘O when ye come to the ha, Tamas, See that a weel-learnd boy ye be; They’ll ask ye questions ane and a’, But see ye answer nane but me.
11 ‘If ye speak to ain but me, Tamas, A fairie ye maun ever bide; But if ye speak to nane but me, Tamas, Ye may come to be your country’s pride.’
12 And when he came to Fairie Ha, I wot a weel-learnd boy was he; They askd him questions ane and a’, But he answerd nane but his ladie.
13 There was four-and-twenty gude knights’-sons In fairie land obliged to bide, And of a’ the pages that were there Fair Tamas was his ladie’s pride.
14 There was four-and-twenty earthly boys, Wha all played at the ba, But Tamas was the bonniest boy, And playd the best amang them a’.
15 There was four-and-twenty earthly maids, Wha a’ playd at the chess, Their colour rosy-red and white, Their gowns were green as grass.
16 ‘And pleasant are our fairie sports, We flie o’er hill and dale; But at the end of seven years They pay the teen to hell.
17 ‘And now’s the time, at Hallowmess, Late on the morrow’s even, And if ye miss me then, Janet, I’m lost for yearis seven.’
* * * * *
N
‘Tamlane,’ “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 96 a; in the handwriting of John Leyden.
‘Gowd rings I can buy, Thomas, Green mantles I can spin, But gin ye take my maidenheid I’ll neer get that again.’
Out and spak the queen o fairies, Out o a shot o wheat, ‘She that has gotten young Tamlane Has gotten my heart’s delight.’
40. The Queen of Elfan’s Nourice.
P. 358, II, 505 b, III, 505 b. More cases in ‘Fairy Births and Human Midwives,’ E. S. Hartland, The Archæological Review, IV, 328 ff.
The elf-woman’s daughter has lain on the floor nineteen days in travail, for she cannot be delivered unless a mortal man lay hands upon her. Hrólfr is lured to the elf-woman’s hall for this purpose. Göngu-Hrólfs Saga, c. 15, Rafn, Fornaldar Sögur, III, 276, Ásmundarson, Fornaldarsögur Norðrlanda, III, 174, 175. (G. L. K.)
41. Hind Etin.
P. 361 b, III, 506 a. #Danish.# #X#, ‘Agnete i Bjærget,’ Kristensen, Jyske Folkeminder, X, 3, No 2.
364 a, III, 506 a. #Danish.# #M-O#, ‘Agnete i Havet,’ Kristensen, Jyske Folkeminder, X, 6, No 3, #A-C#.
365 a, II, 506 a. #German.# #J.# ‘Die schöne Dorothea,’ Gadde-Gloddow, V. 1. aus Hinterpommern, Zeitschrift für Volkskunde, III, 227.
42. Clerk Colvill.
P. 374 b. #Danish.# ‘Elvedansen,’ Kristensen, Jyske Folkeminder, X, 10, 372, No 5, A, B, C.
380, II, 506 a, III, 506 a. #PP#, #QQ#, ‘Arnaud,’ Quercy, Daymard, p. 167 f., 34 verses, 26 verses. #RR#, ‘Lou Counte Arnaud,’ Bas-Quercy, Soleville, Chants p. du Bas-Quercy, 1889, p. 13, 10 stanzas. #SS,# version limousine, La Tradition, V, 184.
384, III, 506 a. #Spanish.# ‘Don Pedro,’ El Folk-Lore Frexnense y Bético-Extremeño, Fregenal, 1883–84; (1) p. 129 (and 180), Zafra, Badajoz, D. Sergio Hernandez; (2) p. 182, Badajoz; (3) p. 183, Montanchez, provincia de Cácares; (4) Constantina, provincia de Sevilla, D. Antonio Machado y Alvarez.
386 a. #Bohemian.# #A a# also==Wenzig, Slawische V. 1., 1830, p. 47.
43. The Broomfield Hill.
P. 392 b, III, 506. Sleep-thorn, sleep-pin. Add: Curtin, Myths and Folk-Lore of Ireland, 1890, pp. 40, 130 ff., 200; Hyde, Beside the Fire, Irish-Gaelic Folk-Stories, p. 43; MacInnes, Folk and Hero Tales, 1890, p. 141 (cf. p. 459).
Sleep-pin, Wlisłocki, M. u. S. der transylvanischen Zigeuner, p. 46. Compare the wand in J. H. Knowles’s Folk-Tales of Kashmir, p. 199. (G. L. K.)
393, III, 506 b. #Italian.# ‘La bella Brunetta,’ Ferrari, C. p. in San Pietro Capofiume; ‘La Bevanda sonnifera,’ Giannini, Canzoni del Contado di Massa Lunense, Archivio, VII, 109, No 11, 279, No 7.
44. The Twa Magicians.
P. 400 a, II, 506 b, III, 506 b. #French.# #W#, ‘J’ai fait une maîtresse,’ Daymard, p. 51, Quercy. #X#, ‘Margarideto,’ Soleville, Chants p. du Bas-Quercy, p. 94.
#Italian.# Add to Tigri’s rispetto: Vigo, Canti p. siciliani, 1870–74, No 1711, Pitrè, Studj di Poesia pop., p. 76; Casetti e Imbriani, C. p. delle Provincie meridionali, p. 187: all cited by d’Ancona, Poesia pop., p. 341.
400 b. #Bohemian.# Waldau, Böhmische Granaten, II, 75, No 107, dove, gun; fish, hook; hare, dog.
401 b. Tale in Curtin’s Myths and Folk-Lore of Ireland, pp. 152–6.
Cf. also Notes and Queries, 7th Series, IX, 101, 295; Clouston, Popular Tales and Fictions, I, 413 ff. (G. L. K.)
45. King John and the Bishop.
P. 403 f. Roxburghe, III, 883, is #B#. Roxburghe, III, 494 was printed and sold by John White, Newcastle-upon-Tyne, “circa 1777:” Ebsworth, Roxburghe Ballads, VI, 749. ‘The King and the Bishop,’ Roxburghe, III, 170, is printed in the same volume, p. 751, and ‘The Old Abbot and King Olfrey,’ Pepys, II, 127, at p. 753.
405 b, II, 507. An Armenian, a Slovak, and a Hungarian version, by H. v. Wlisłocki, Zs. f. vergleichende Litteraturgeschichte, u. s. w., N. F., IV, 106 ff., 1891.
404 b, 2d paragraph. Of this kind is the Russian tale, How Fraud made entrance into Russia. Ivan the Terrible demands tribute of neighboring princes. They propose to him three riddles: if he guesses them, they are to pay twelve casks of gold and tribute; if he fails, they take his kingdom. A marvellous old man helps the Tsar out. He has been promised a cask of gold, but the Tsar fills one of the casks two thirds with sand, and offers that. The old man tells him that he, the Tsar, has brought Fraud into the land, never to be eradicated. Ivan begs him to take one of the other casks, but in vain. The old man vanishes; it was God. Rybnikof, II, 232, No 39. (W. W.)
46. Captain Wedderburn’s Courtship.
P. 417 a, II, 507 b, III, 507 a. Heads on spikes; only one spike without a head: Curtin, Myths and Folk-Lore of Ireland, 1890, pp. 37, 114 f, 193; Mac Innes, Folk and Hero Tales, Folk-Lore Society, 1890, pp. 79, 453.
47. Proud Lady Margaret.
P. 426. #A.# Two stanzas (6, 9) and a line were wanting in the copy supplied by Hamilton. March 23, 1803, Hamilton sent to Scott the following verses, “to come in at the first break.” There were still four lines, which should come before these, that Hamilton could not recollect. “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 117. See #B# 17, #C# 11, where also there is defect, and #D# 6, 7.
‘O wherein leems the beer?’ she said, ‘Or wherein leems the wine? O wherein leems the gold?’ she said, ‘Or wherein leems the twine?’
‘The beer is put in a drinking-horn, The wine in glasses fine, There’s gold in store between two kings, When they are fighting keen, And the twine is between a lady’s two hands When they are washen clean.’
49. The Twa Brothers.
P. 436, II, 14, III, 381 b. ‘Tell my mother I am married,’ etc.: so in the beautiful Roumanian ‘Miorita,’ Alecsandri, p. 3.
438. #A b.# ‘The Two Brothers,’ Walks near Edinburgh, by Margaret Warrender, 1890, p. 60. Given to Lady John Scott many years ago by Campbell Riddell, brother of Sir James Riddell of Ardnamurchan.
1 There were two brothers in the north, Lord William and Lord John, And they would try a wrestling match, So to the fields they’ve gone, gone, gone, So to the fields they’ve gone.
2 They wrestled up, they wrestled down, Till Lord John fell on the ground. And a knife into Lord William’s pocket Gave him a deadly wound.
3 ‘Oh take me on your back, dear William,’ he said, ‘And carry me to the burnie clear, And wash my wound sae deep and dark, Maybe’t will bleed nae mair.’
4 He took him up upon his back, An carried him to the burnie clear, But aye the mair he washed his wound It aye did bleed the mair.
5 ‘Oh take me on your back, dear William,’ he said, ‘And carry me to the kirkyard fair, And dig a grave sae deep and dark, And lay my body there.’
6 ‘But what shall I say to my father dear When he says, Willie, what’s become of John?’ ‘Oh tell him I am gone to Greenock town, To buy him a puncheon of rum.’
7 ‘And what shall I say to my sister dear When she says, Willie, what’s become of John?’ ‘Oh tell her I’ve gone to London town To buy her a marriage-gown.’
8 ‘But what shall I say to my grandmother dear When she says, Willie, what’s become of John?’ ‘Oh tell her I’m in the kirkyard dark, And that I’m dead and gone.’
53. Young Beichan.
P. 459 a. #Danish.# ‘Ellen henter sin Fæstemand,’ Kristensen, Jyske Folkeminder, X, 125, No 34, #A#, #B#.
462 a, III, 507 b. ‘Gerineldo,’ again, in Munthe, Folkpoesie från Asturien, No 2, second part, p. 112 b (Upsala Universitets Årsskrift); but imperfect.
462 b, 463 a, II, 508 a. Another version of the French ballad (‘Tout au milieu de Paris’) in Meyrac, Traditions, etc., des Ardennes, p. 238.
463 ff. ‘Earl Bichet,’ “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 83, Abbotsford. Communicated to Scott by Mrs Christiana Greenwood, London, May 27, 1806 (Letters, I, No 189), as heard by her in her youth at Longnewton, near Jedburgh, “where most of the old women could sing it.”
1 Earl Bichet’s sworn a mighty aith, And a solemn vow made he, That he wad to the Holy Land, To the Holy Land wad he gae.
2 When he came to the Holy Land, Amang the Infidels sae black, They hae consulted them amang The Earl Bichet for to take.
3 And when they basely him betrayd They put him into fetters strang, And threw him in a dungeon dark, To spend the weary night sae lang.
4 Then in ilka shoulder they bored a hole, In his right shoulder they bored three, And they gard him draw the coops o wine, Till he was sick and like to dee.
5 Then they took him out o their carts and wains, And put him in a castle of stone; When the stars shone bright, and the moon gave light, The sad Earl Bichet he saw none.
6 The king had only ae daughter, And it was orderd sae to be That, as she walked up and down, By the strong-prison-door cam she.
7 Then she heard Earl Bichet sad Making his pityful mane, In doolfu sounds and moving sighs Wad melt a heart o stane.
8 ‘When I was in my ain countrie, I drank the wine sae clear; But now I canna get bare bread; O I wis I had neer come here!
9 ‘When I was in my ain countrie, I drank the wine sae red; But now I canna get a bite o bare bread; O I wis that I were dead!’
* * * * * *
10 ‘Gae bring to me the good leaven [bread], To eat when I do need; Gae bring to me the good red wine, To drink when I do dread.’
11 ‘Gae ask my father for his leave To bring them unto me, And for the keys o the prison-door, To set Earl Bichet free.’
* * * * * *
12 Then she went into her ain chamber And prayd most heartilie, And when that she rose up again The keys fell at her knee.
* * * * * *
13 Then they hae made a solemn vow Between themselves alone, That he was to marry no other woman, And she no other man.
14 And Earl Bichet’s to sail to fair Scotland, Far oer the roaring faem, And till seven years were past and gone This vow was to remain.
15 Then she built him a stately ship, And set it on the sea, Wi four-and-twenty mariners, To bear him companie.
16 ‘My blessing gae wi ye, Earl Bichet, My blessing gae wi thee; My blessing be wi a’ the mariners That are to sail wi thee.’
17 Then they saild east, and they saild wast, Till they saild to Earl Bichet’s yett, When nane was sae ready as his mother dear To welcome her ain son back.
18 ‘Ye’re welcome, welcome, Earl Bichet, Ye’re dearly welcome hame to me! And ye’re as welcome to Lady Jean, For she has lang looked for thee.’
19 ‘What haste, what haste, O mother dear, To wale a wife for me? For what will I do wi the bonny bride That I hae left ayont the sea?’
20 When seven years were past and gone, Seven years but and a day, The Saracen lady took a crying in her sleep, And she has cried sair till day.
21 ‘O daughter, is it for a man o might? Or is it for a man o mine?’ ‘It’s neither for a man o might, Nor is it for a man o thine.
22 ‘Bat if ye’ll build me a ship, father, And set it on the sea, I will away to some other land, To seek a true-love free.’
23 Then he built her a gallant ship, And set it on the sea, Wi a hunder and fifty mariners, To bear her companie.
24 At every corner o the ship A siller bell did hing, And at ilka jawing o the faem The siller bells did ring.
25 Then they saild east, and they saild wast, Till they cam to Earl Bichet’s yett; Nane was sae ready as the porter To open and let her in thereat.
26 ‘O is this Earl Bichet’s castle-yett? Or is that noble knight within? For I am weary, sad and wet, And far I’ve come ayont the faem.’
27 ‘He’s up the stair at supper set, And mony a noble knight wi him; He’s up the stair wi his bonny bride, And mony a lady gay wi them.’
28 She’s put her hand into her purse And taen out fifty merks and three: ‘If this be the Earl Bichet’s castle, Tell him to speak three words wi me.
29 ‘Tell him to send me a bit o his bread But an a bottle o his wine, And no forget the lady’s love That freed him out o prison strong.’
30 The porter he gaed up the stair, And mony bow and binge gae he; ‘What means, what means,’ cried Earl Bichet, ‘O what means a’ this courtesie?’
31 ‘O I hae been porter at yere yett These four-and-twenty years and three; But the fairest lady now stands thereat That ever my two eyes did see.
32 ‘She has a ring on her foremost finger, And on her middle-finger three; She has as much gowd about her waist As wad buy earldoms o land for thee.
33 ‘She wants to speak three words wi thee, And a little o yere bread and wine, And not to forget the lady’s love That freed ye out o prison strong.’
34 ‘I’ll lay my life,’ cried Earl Bichet, ‘It’s my true love come oer the sea!’ Then up and spake the bride’s mother, ‘It’s a bonny time to speak wi thee!’
35 ‘O your doughter came here on a horse’s back, But I’ll set her hame in a chariot free; For, except a kiss o her bonny mouth, Of her fair body I am free.’
36 There war thirty cups on the table set, He gard them a’ in flinders flee; There war thirty steps into the stair, And he has louped them a’ but three.
37 Then he took her saftly in his arms, And kissed her right tenderlie: ‘Ye’re welcome here, my ain true love, Sae dearly welcome ye’re to me!’
* * * * * *
* * * * *
7^3. doolfu: l struck out.
At the end: “Some verses are wanting at the conclusion.”
The following stanza, entered by Scott in the quarto volume “Scottish Songs,” 1795, fol. 29 back, Abbotsford library, N. 3, is much too good to be lost:
Young Bechin was in Scotland born, He longed far countries for to see, And he bound himself to a savage Moor, Who used him but indifferently.
VOL. II.
55. The Carnal and the Crane.
P. 7, 509 b, III, 507 b. The Sower. Add: Legeay, Noëls Anciens, Première Série, 1875, ‘Saint Joseph avec Marie,’ No 34, p. 68; Daymard, Vieux Chants p. rec. en Quercy, ‘La Fuite en Egypte,’ p. 333; Soleville, Ch. p. du Bas-Quercy, ‘Lou Bouiaje,’ p. 126; La Tradition, IV, 139.
56. Dives and Lazarus.
P. 10, III, 507 b. ‘Le mauvais riche,’ Daymard, Vieux Chants p. rec. en Quercy, p. 282.
57. Brown Robyn’s Confession.
P. 13. #Swedish.# ‘Herr Päders Sjöresa,’ Lagus, Nyländska Folkvisor, I, 56, No 14, a, b.
#Danish.# ‘Jon Rimaardsens Sejlads,’ Kristensen, Jyske Folkeminder, X, 296, No 73, #A-D#.
13 ff., II, 510, also No 20, I, 244. While Prince Lundarasena is on a voyage, a great hurricane arises. An offering of jewels is made to the sea, but does not quiet it. Lundarasena says: “It is through my demerits in former births that this day of doom has suddenly come upon you.” He flings himself into the water; the wind falls immediately and the sea becomes calm. (He is not drowned.) Kathá Sarit Ságara, Tawney’s translation, II, 375.
A ship stopped. Cf. the story told by Henry of Huntingdon, viii, 22, of one Reiner, a follower of Geoffrey Mandeville (Gaufridus de Magna Villa).
“Princeps autem peditum suorum, Reinerus nomine, cujus officium fuerat ecclesias frangere vel incendere, dum mare cum uxore sua transiret, ut multi perhibuerunt, navis immobilis facta est. Quod monstrum nautis stupentibus, sorte data rei causam inquirentibus, sors cecidit super Reinerum. Quod cum ille nimirum totis contradiceret nisibus, secundo et tertio sors jacta in eum devenit. Positus igitur in scapha est, et uxor ejus, et pecunia scelestissime adquisita, et statim navis cursu velocissimo ut prius fecerat pelagus sulcat, scapha vero cum nequissimis subita voragine circumducta in æternum absorpta est.” This was in the year 1144. Henrici Archidiaconi Huntendunensis Historia Anglorum, ed. Arnold, Rolls Series, 1879, p. 278. (G. L. K.)
“Audivi a fratre Galtero de Leus quod, cum quedam mulier, mare transiens, pulcritudine sua omnes qui erant in navi ita attraxisset ut omnes qui erant ibi fere cum ea peccassent vel per actum aut consensum, et non evitaret patrem aut filium, sed indifferenter omnibus, licet occulte, se exponeret, facta in mari tempestate et navi periclitante, cepit clamare coram omnibus omnia peccata sua et confiteri ea, credens quod alii propter ea deberent periclitari. Tunc, aliis confitentibus, cessavit mare a furore suo. Facta tranquillitate, nullus potuit scire que esset illa mulier aut cognoscere eam.” Anecdotes historiques, Légendes et Apologues tirés du Recueil inédit d’Étienne de Bourbon, ed. Lecoy de la Marche, 1877, p. 160. (G. L. K.)
A merchant is making a voyage to Mount Athos with a cargo of wax and incense. St Nicolas freezes the ship in, and will not thaw it out until the master makes a vow to present the cargo to the monastery there. #Bulgarian#, Miladinof, p. 56, No 50. A ship in which Milica is captive is stopped by her tears and plaints until she and her brother are released. #Servian#, Karadžić, I, 556, No 729. (W. W.)
16. ‘Captain Glen.’ Christie’s Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 241, from recitation. As Christie remarks, some verses of the ballad are introduced into Scott’s Pirate, ch. 36.
59. Sir Aldingar.
P. 33 f. The child champion in #A#. (Compare also the notes to No 90, II, 513 b, III, 515 b.) Children who distinguish themselves by valorous exploits, and even get the better of heroes, are especially common in Bulgarian epos. A child of three days kills a monster that stops the way of a marriage-train, and then requires the guests to come to its baptism: Miladinof, p. 79, No 59. Marko Kraljević is vanquished by one of these, seven years old: Miladinof, p. 173, No 121; Kačanofskij, pp. 341–55, Nos 151–55. In Kačanofskij, p. 355, No 156, the child is but seven months old. More of this extravagance in Miladinof, p. 266, No 173; Sbornik of the Ministry of Instruction, I, 59, No 4. (W. W.)
35, note. In The Order of Combats for Life in Scotland, Spalding Club Misc., II, 387 (of uncertain date), the second oath to be proposed to the parties is, that they have not brought into the lists other armor or weapons than was allowed, neither any engine, charm, herb, or enchantment, etc.
60. King Estmere.
P. 50 b, the last paragraph. It might have been remarked that ‘King Estmere’ resembles in a general way a series of German poems of adventure, in which a young king (or his guardians) is nice about a wife, and the princess proposed to him is won only with great difficulty: König Rother (ed. Rückert, v. 13 ff.); Ortnit (Ortnit und die Wolfdietriche, ed. Amelung und Jänicke, I, 4, st. 8 ff.); Hugdietrich (the same, p. 168, st. 9 ff.); Oswald (Sant Oswaldes Leben, ed. Ettmüller, p. 6, v. 140 ff); Orendel (ed. Berger, p. 8, v. 192 ff.); Dietwart (Dietrichs Flucht, ed. Martin, Heldenbuch, II^r Teil, p. 68, v. 785 ff.). To which may be added Fore, in Salman und Marolf (ed. Vogt, p. 5, str. 24 ff.), and Tsar Vasily, in Russian byliny (see Vogt, p. XLII).
61. Sir Cawline.
P. 60, III, 508 b. Cucúlin pulls liver and lights out of the throats of two lions: Curtin, Myths and Folk-Lore of Ireland, p. 317.
62. Fair Annie.
P. 65 a. #Swedish.# ‘Skön Anna,’ ‘Skön Anna och Herr Peder,’ Lagus, Nyländska Folkvisor, I, 13, No 4, a, b. The bride throws down one half of a gold ring, Fair Annie the other; the parts run together: a 23, b 16.
67. The romance of Galerent follows the story of Marie’s lai, and is thought to be founded on it: Le Roman de Galerent, Comte de Bretagne, par le trouvère Renaut, A. Boucherie, 1888. (G. L. K.)
68, note. The story is in Coryat’s Crudities, 1611, p. 646 f.; III, 81 f., of the ed. of 1776. (G. L. K.)
63. Child Waters.
P. 84 b, III, 508 b. Add: Skattegraveren, 1888, II, 135, Nos 408–11.
64. Fair Janet.
P. 101 b. #Danish.# ‘Kong Valdemar og hans Søster,’ Kristensen, Jyske Folkeminder, X, 75, 378, No 23.
102 b. #Breton# ballad. After Luzel, II, 6–15, add 558, the page of the third ballad.
Quellien, Chansons et Danses des Bretons, p. 73, is a fourth version. This ballad, says Quellien, is widely spread, and has various titles, one of which is ‘Le Comte de Poitou.’
103 ff. “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” Abbotsford, No 25. In the handwriting of William Laidlaw; “from Jean Scott.”
1 Young Janet sits in her garden, Makin a heavie maen, Whan by cam her father dear, Walkin himself alane.
2 ‘It’s telld me in my bower, Janet, It’s telld me in my bed, That ye’re in love wi Sweet Willie; But a French lord ye maun wed.’
3 ‘In it be telld ye in yer bower, father, In it be telld ye in your bed, That me an Willie bears a love, Yet a French lord I maun wed, But here I mak a leel, leel vow He’s neer come in my bed.
4 ‘An for to please my father dear A French lord I will wed; But I hae sworn a solemn oth He’s neer come in my bed.’
5 Y_oung_ Janet’s away to her bower-door, As fast as she can hie, An Willie he has followd her, He’s followd speedilie.
6 An whan he cam to her bowr-door He tirlt at the pin: ‘O open, open, Janet love, Open an let me in.’
7 ‘It was never my mother’s custm, Willie, It never sal be mine, For a man to come the bower within When a woman’s travelin.
8 ‘Gae yer ways to my sisters’ bower, Crie, Meg, Marion an Jean, Ye maun come to yer sister Janet, For fear that she be gane.’
9 Sae he gaed to her sisters’ bower, Cry’d, Meg, Marion an Jean, Ye maun come to yer sister Janet, For fear that she be gane.
10 Some drew to their silk stokins, An some drew to their shoon, An some drew to their silk cleadin, For fear she had been gane.
11 When they cam to her bower-door They tirlt at the pin; For as sick a woman as she was, She raise an loot them in.
12 They had na the babie weel buskit, Nor her laid in her bed, Untill her cruel father cam, Cried, Fye, gar busk the bride!
13 ‘There a sair pain in my back, father, There a sair pain in my head, An sair, sair is my sidies to; This day I downa ride.’
14 ‘But I hae sorn a solemn oath, Afore a companie, That ye sal ride this day, Janet, This day an ye soud die.
15 ‘Whae’ll horse ye to the kirk, Janet? An whae will horse ye best?’ ‘Whae but Willie, my true-love? He kens my mister best.’
16 ‘Whae’ll horse ye to the kirk, Janet? An whae will horse ye there?’ ‘Whae but Willie, my true-love? He neer will doo ‘d nae maer.
17 ‘Ye may saddle a steed, Willie, An see that ye saddle ‘t soft; Ye may saddle a steed, Willie, For ye winna saddle ‘t oft.
18 ‘Ye may saddle a steed, Willie, An see that ye saddle ‘t side; Ye may saddle a steed, Willie; But I thought to have been yer bride.’
19 When they war a’ on horse-back set, On horse-back set sae hie, Then up spak the bold bridegroom, An he spak boustresslie.
20 Up then spak the bold bridegroom, An he spak loud an thrawn; ‘I think the bride she be wi bairn, She looks sae pale an wan.’
21 Then she took out her bible-book, Swoor by her fingers five That she was neither wi lad nor lass To no man was alive.
22 Then she took out her bible-book, Swoor by her fingers ten An ever she had born a bairn in her days She had born ‘d sin yestreen: Then a’ the ladies round about Said, That’s a loud leesin.
23 Atween the kitchin an the kirk It was a weel-met mile; It was a stra’d i the red roses, But than the camomile.
24 When the war a’ at dener set, Drinkin at the wine, Janet could neither eat nor drink But the water that ran so fine.
25 Up spak the bride’s father, Said, Bride, will ye dance wi me? ‘Away, away, my cruel father! There nae dancin wi me.’
26 Up then spak the bride’s mother, Said, Bride, will ye dance wi me? ‘Away, away, my mother dear! There nae dancin wi me.’
27 Up then spak the bride’s sisters, etc.
28 Up then spak the bride’s brother, etc.
29 Then up spak the bold bridegroom, [etc.]
30 Up then spak the Sweet Willie, An he spak wi a vance; ‘An ye’ll draw of my boots, Janet, I’ll gie a’ yer lassies a dance.’
31 ‘I seen ‘t other ways, Willie, An sae has mae than me, When ye wad hae danced wi my fair body, An leten a’ my maidens be.’
32 He took her by the milk-white hand, An led her wi mickle care, But she drapit down just at his feet, And word spak little mair.
33 ‘Ye may gae hire a nurse, Willie, An take yer young son hame; Ye may gae hire a nurse, Willie, For bairn’s nurse I’ll be nane.’
34 She’s pu’d out the keys o her coffer, Hung leugh down by her gair; She said, Gie thae to my young son, Thrae me he’ll neer get mair.’
35 Up then spak the bold bridegroom, An he spak bousterouslie; ‘I’ve gien you the skaeth, Willie, But ye’ve gien me the scorn; Sae there’s no a bell i St Mary’s kirk Sall ring for her the morn.’
36 ‘Ye’ve gien me the skaeth, bridegroom, But I’ll gee you the scorn; For there’s no a bell i St Marie’s kirk But sal ring for her the morn.
37 ‘Gar deal, gar deal at my love’s burial The wheat-bread an the wine, For or the morn at ten o clock Ye’ll deal ‘d as fast at mine.’
38 Then he’s drawn out a nut-brown sword, Hang leugh down by his gair, He’s thrust it in just at his heart, An word spak never mair.
39 The taen was buried i St Mary’s kirk, The tother i St Mary’s queer, An throw the taen there sprang a birk, Throw the tother a bonnie brier.
40 Thae twae met, an thae twae plaet, An ay they knitit near, An ilka ane that cam thereby Said, There lies twa lovers dear.
41 Till by there came an ill French lord, An ill death may he die! For he pu’d up the bonnie brier, . . . . . . . .
5^1. Away struck out, and on written over.
9^1. An at the beginning struck out.
10^{1,2,3}. drew to them their? Cf. #A# 10.
11^4. The fourth verse is written as the second (it for in), but struck out.
12^1. bukit.
13^3. Changed, by striking out, to An sair, sair my side. An sair, sair is my side should probably be the second line.
Cf. #A# 17, #C# 12.
15^2. An whae I will.
16^4. He’ll neer will.
18^4. But struck out.
23^4. But an?
30^1. he Sweet Willie?
34^2. Hang? Cf. 38^2.
39^2. MS. queer Choir.
40^4. twa struck out.
65. Lady Maisry.
P. 112 b. #I.# “Mrs Baird says that this ballad was printed in the Saltmarket [Glasgow] by the Robertsons about seventy years ago.” Note by Motherwell in a copy of his Minstrelsy.
113, note §. ‘Galancina’ also in Munthe, Folkpoesi från Asturien, No 3, Upsala Universitets Årsskrift, 1887.
* * * * *
J
‘Lady Margery,’ “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 71, MS. of Thomas Wilkie, p. 71, Abbotsford. “From the recitation of Janet Scott, Bowden, who sung a dysmal air, as she called it, to the words.”
This version resembles #D#. 12, 13, may be caught from ‘Lord Derwentwater:’ see No 208, #E# 8, 9, #F# 9, 10. Omens are not in place after the positive information given in 11.
1 Lady Margery was the king’s ae daughter, But an the prince’s heir; O She’s away to Strawberry Castle, To learn some English lair. O
2 She had not been in Strawberry Castle A twelvemonth and a day Till she’s even as big wi child As ever a lady could gae.
3 Her father’s to the cutting o the birks, Her mother to the broom, And a’ for to get a bundle o sticks To burn that fair lady in.
4 ‘O hold your hand now, father dear, O hold a little while, For if my true-love be yet alive I’ll hear his bridle ring.
5 ‘Where will I get a bonny boy, That will win hoes and shoon, That will run to Strawberry Castle And tell my love to come?’
6 She’s called on her waiting-maid To bring out bread and wine: ‘Now eat and drink, my bonny boy, Ye’ll neer eat mair o mine.’
7 Away that bonny boy he’s gaen, As fast as he could rin; When he cam where grass grew green Set down his feet and ran.
8 And when he cam where brigs were broken He bent his bow and swam; . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
9 When he came to Strawberry Castle, He lighted on the green; Who was so ready as the noble lord To rise and let the boy in!
10 ‘What news? what news, my pretty page? What tydings do ye bring? Is my lady lighter yet Of a daughter or a son?’
11 ‘Bad news, bad news, my noble lord, Bad tydings have I brung; The fairest lady in a’ Scotland This day for you does burn.’
12 He has mounted a stately steed And he was bound to ride; The silver buttons flew off his coat And his nose began to bleed.
13 The second steed that lord mounted Stumbled at a stone; ‘Alass! alass!’ he cried with grief, ‘My lady will be gone.’
14 When he came from Strawberry Castle He lighted boots and a’; He thought to have goten a kiss from her, But her body fell in twa.
15 For the sake o Lady Margery He’s cursed her father and mother, For the sake o Lady Margery He’s cursed her sister and brother.
16 And for the sake o Lady Margery He’s cursed all her kin; He cried, Scotland is the ae warst place That ever my fit was in!
O, added in singing to the second and fourth lines of each stanza, is sometimes not written in the MS.
9 is written as the third and fourth lines of 8.
15 and 16 are written as one stanza of four long lines.
* * * * *
K
“Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 22 f; in the handwriting of William Laidlaw. “From Jean Scott.” This version resembles #E#.
1 Marjorie was her father’s dear, Her mother’s only heir, An she’s away to Strawberry Castle, To learn some unco lear.
2 She had na been i Strawberry Castle A year but barely three Till Marjorie turnd big wi child, As big as big could be.
* * * * * *
3 ‘Will ye hae that old, old man To be yer daily mate, Or will ye burn in fire strong For your true lover’s sake?’
4 ‘I winna marry that old, old man To be my daily mate; I’ll rather burn i fire strong For my true lover’s sake.
* * * * * *
5 ‘O where will I get a bonnie boy That will win hose an shoon An will gae rin to Strawberry Castle, To gar my good lord come soon?’
6 ‘Here am I, a bonnie boy That will win hose an shoon, An I’ll gae rin to Strawberry Castle, And gar your lord come soon.’
7 ‘Should ye come to a brocken brig, Than bend your bow an swim; An whan ye com to garse growin Set down yer feet an rin.’
8 When eer he came to brigs broken, He bent his bow an swam, And whan he cam to grass growin He set down his feet an ran.
7 When eer he cam to Strawberry Castle He tirlt at the pin; There was nane sae ready as that young lord To open an let him in.
8 ‘Is there ony o my brigs broken? Or ony o my castles win? Or is my lady brought to bed Of a daughter or a son?’
9 ‘There’s nane o a’ yer brigs broken, Ther’s nane of your castles win; But the fairest lady in a’ your land This day for you will burn.’
10 ‘Gar saddle me the black, black horse, Gar saddle me the brown, Gar saddle me the swiftest stead That eer carried man to town.’
11 He’s burstit the black unto the slack, The grey unto the brae, An ay the page that ran afore Cried, Ride, sir, an ye may.
12 Her father kindlet the bale-fire, Her brother set the stake, Her mother sat an saw her burn, An never cried Alack!
13 ‘Beet on, beet [on], my cruel father, For you I cound nae friend; But for fifteen well mete mile I’ll hear my love’s bridle ring.’
14 When he cam to the bonnie Dundee, He lightit wi a glent; Wi jet-black boots an glittrin spurs Through that bale-fire he went.
15 He thought his love wad hae datit him, But she was dead an gane; He was na sae wae for that lady As he was for her yong son.
16 ‘But I’ll gar burn for you, Marjorie, Yer father an yer mother, An I’ll gar burn for you, Marjorie, Your sister an your brother.
17 ‘An I will burn for you, Marjorie, The town that ye’r brunt in, An monie ane’s be fatherless That has but little sin.’
4^3. But at the beginning struck out.
10. grey is written over brown in the second line (perhaps because of grey in 11^2), and to town is struck out in the fourth line, but nothing supplied.
67. Glasgerion.
P. 136. “Glen Kindy, or rather Glen Skeeny, I have heard, and there is a ballad in Percy’s collection that is very much the same.” Mrs Brown, in a letter to Jamieson, June 18, 1801, Jamieson-Brown MS., Appendix, p. x.
137 a, second paragraph. ‘Riddaren och torpar-drängen,’ Lagus, Nyländska Folkvisor, I, 133, No 43.
68. Young Hunting.
P. 142 b. The four additional stanzas in #J# first appeared in the second edition of the Minstrelsy, 1803, II, 44.
143 b, 512 a, III, 509 a. Discovery of drowned bodies. Add: La Tradition, IV, 236.
143 b, second paragraph. Many cases in Pitcairn’s Criminal Trials, III, 182–99.
69. Clerk Saunders.
P. 157 f. Scandinavian ballads. See Danmarks gamle Folkeviser, now edited by Axel Olrik, V, II, 210, No 304, ‘De hurtige Svar.’ There are two Färöe versions, #A a#, #A b#, #B#, now No 124 of the MS. Føroyjakvæði. Hammershaimb’s ballad is a compound of #A a#, #B#. There is a Norwegian copy, which I failed to note, in Danske Viser, IV, 363 f, and there are others in the hands of Professor Bugge. There are two Swedish unprinted copies in Arwidsson’s collection, and others are referred to by Afzelius. #Danish#, #A-D# : #A a# and #B c# are the copies referred to at p. 158, #C, D# were published in 1889, in Kristensen’s Jyske Folkeminder, X, 210 ff., No 51. For the Icelandic ballads see Olrik, No 294, p. 69 ff. A tendency to the comic is to be remarked in the Swedish and Danish group, in which (with one exception) a brother takes the place of the father.
158 a, III, 509 a. #Spanish#, add: ‘Mañanita, mañanita,’ El Folk-Lore Frexnense y Bético-Extremeño, Fregenal, 1883–84, p. 171.
158 ff. ‘Clerk Sandy,’ “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 22 c; in the handwriting of Richard Heber.
1 Clerk Sandy an his true-love Came oer the bent so brown, There was never sic a word between them tua Till the bells rang in the toun.
2 ‘Ye maun take out your pocket-napkin An put it on my een, That safely I may say the morn I saw na yow yestreen.
3 ‘Take me on your back, lady, An carry me to your bed, That safely I may say the morn Yere bouer’s floor I never tread.’
4 She’s taen him in her armeys tua, An carried him to her bed, That safely he may say the morn Her bouer’s floor he never tread.
5 ‘I have seven brethren,’ she says, ‘An bold young men they be; If they see me an you thegether, Yere butcher they will be.’
6 They had na sutten as lang, as lang As other lovers when they meet, Till Clerk Sandy an his true-love They fell baith sound asleep.
7 In an came her seven brethren, An bold young men they’ve been: ‘We have only ae sister in a’ the world, An wi Clerk Sandy she’s lein.’
8 Out an spake her second brother: ‘I’m sure it’s nae injury; If there was na another man in a’ the world. His butcher I will be.’
9 He’s taen out a little pen-knife, Hang low doun by his gaer, An thro an thro Clerk Sandy’s middle; A word spake he never mair.
10 They lay lang, an lang they lay, Till the bird in its cage did sing; She softly unto him did say, I wonder ye sleep sae soun.
11 They lay lang, an lang they lay, Till the sun shane on their feet; She softly unto him did say, Ye ly too sound asleep.
12 She softly turnd her round about, An wondred he slept sae soun; An she lookd ovr her left shoulder, An the blood about them ran.
1^2. bents o Broun.
71. The Bent Sae Brown.
P. 170 a, III, 509 a, IV, 164 b. #Danish.# ‘Jomfruens Brødre,’ ‘Hr. Hjælm,’ Kristensen, Jyske Folkeminder, X, 266, 269, No 65, #A, B#, No 66.
72. The Clerk’s Twa Sons o Owsenford.
P. 174, 512 a, III, 509 a. M. Gaston Paris has made it strongly probable that Pontoise, and not Toulouse, was originally the scene of the French-Catalan-Italian ballad. Three students had inadvertently trespassed on the hunting-grounds of Enguerrand de Couci; the baron had them arrested by his foresters and hanged from the battlements of his castle; for which St Louis made him pay a heavy fine, and with the money founded a hospital at Pontoise. Journal des Savants, Sept.-Nov., 1889, p. 614.
73. Lord Thomas and Fair Annet.
P. 180. Norse (1). ‘Peder och liten Stina,’ Lagus, Nyländska Folkvisor, I, 18, No 5. Stina hangs herself in the orchard. Peder runs on his spear.
181, III, 510 b. French ballads. ‘La Délaissée,’ Daymard, Vieux Chants p. rec. en Quercy, p. 50. ‘Le Rossignolet,’ Revue des Traditions pop., V, 144, 205.
* * * * *
I
P. 182 f. “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 22 h; in the handwriting of William Laidlaw. From Jean Scott.
1 Fair Annie an Sweet Willie Sat a’ day on yon hill; Whan day was gane an night was comd, They hadna said their fill.
2 Willie spak but ae wrang word, An Annie took it ill: ‘I’ll never marry a fair woman Against my friends’s will.’
3 Annie spak but ae wrang word, An Willy lookit down: ‘If I binna gude eneugh for yer wife, I’m our-gude for yer loun.’
4 Willie’s turnd his horse’s head about, He’s turnd it to the broom, An he’s away to his father’s bower, I the ae light o the moon.
5 Whan he cam to his father’s bower, [He tirlt at the pin; Nane was sae ready as his father To rise an let him in.]
6 ‘An askin, an askin, dear father, An askin I’ll ask thee;’ ‘Say on, say on, my son Willie, Whatever your askin be.’
7 ‘O sall I marry the nit-brown bride, Has corn, caitle an kye, Or sall I marry Fair Annie, Has nought but fair beauty?’
8 ‘Ye ma sit a gude sate, Willy, Wi corn, caitle an kye; But ye’ll but sit a silly sate Wi nought but fair beauty.’
9 Up than spak his sister’s son, Sat on the nurse’s knee, Sun-bruist in his mother’s wame, Sun-brunt on his nurse’s knee:
10 ‘O yer hogs will die out i the field, Yer kye ill die i the byre; An than, whan a’ yer gear is gane, A fusom fag by yer fire! But a’ will thrive at is wi you An ye get yer heart’s desire.’
11 Willie’s turnd his horse’s head about, He’s away to his mother’s bour, etc.
12 ‘O my hogs ill die out i the field, My kye die i the byre, An than, whan a’ my gear is gane, A fusom fag bi my fire! But a’ will thrive at is wi me Gin I get my heart’s desire.’
13 Willie’s, etc., He’s awae to his brother’s bower, etc.
14 “ ” “ ” sister’s bower, etc.@
15 Than Willie has set his wadin-day Within thirty days an three, An he has sent to Fair Annie His waddin to come an see.
16 The man that gade to Fair Annie Sae weel his errant coud tell: ‘The morn it’s Willie’s wadin-day, Ye maun be there yer sell.’
17 ’Twas up an spak her aged father, He spak wi muckle care; ‘An the morn be Willie’s wadin-day, I wate she maun be there.
18 ‘Gar take a steed to the smiddie, Caw on o it four shoon; Gar take her to a merchant’s shop, Cut off for her a gown.’
19 She wadna ha’t o the red sae red, Nor yet o the grey sae grey, But she wad ha’t o the sky couler That she woor ilka day.
* * * * * *
20 There war four-an-twontie gray goss-hawks A flaffin their wings sae wide, To flaff the stour thra off the road That Fair Annie did ride.
21 The[re] war four-a-twontie milk-white dows A fleein aboon her head, An four-an-twontie milk-white swans Her out the gate to lead.
22 Whan she cam to St Marie’s kirk, She lightit on a stane; The beauty o that fair creature Shone oer mony ane.
23 ’Twas than out cam the nit-brown bride, She spak wi muckle spite; ‘O where gat ye the water, Annie, That washes you sae white?’
24 ‘I gat my beauty Where ye was no to see; I gat it i my father’s garden, Aneath an apple tree.
25 ‘Ye ma wash i dubs,’ she said, ‘An ye ma wash i syke, But an ye wad wash till doomsday Ye neer will be as white.
26 ‘Ye ma wash i dubs,’ she said, ‘An ye ma wash i the sea, But an ye soud wash till doomsday Ye’ll neer be as white as me.
27 ‘For I gat a’ this fair beauty Where ye gat never none, For I gat a’ this fair beauty Or ever I was born.’
28 It was than out cam Willie, Wi hats o silks and flowers; He said, Keep ye thae, my Fair Annie, An brook them weel for yours.’
29 ‘Na, keep ye thae, Willie,’ she said, ‘Gie them to yer nit-brown bride; Bid her wear them wi mukle care, For woman has na born a son Sal mak my heart as sair.’
30 Annie’s luppen on her steed An she has ridden hame, Than Annie’s luppen of her steed An her bed she has taen.
31 When mass was sung, an bells war rung, An a’ man bound to bed, An Willie an his nit-brown bride I their chamber war laid.
32 They war na weel laid in their bed, Nor yet weel faen asleep, Till up an startit Fair Annie, Just up at Willie’s feet.
33 ‘How like ye yer bed, Willie? An how like ye yer sheets? An how like ye yer nut-brown bride, Lies in yer arms an sleeps?’
34 ‘Weel eneugh I like my bed, Annie, Weel eneugh I like my sheets; But wae be to the nit-brown bride Lies in my arms an sleeps!’
35 Willie’s ca’d on his merry men a’ To rise an pit on their shoon; ‘An we’ll awae to Annie’s bower, Wi the ae light o the moon.’
36 An whan he cam to Annie’s bower, He tirlt at the pin; Nane was sae ready as her father To rise an let him in.
37 There was her father a[n] her se’en brethren A makin to her a bier, Wi ae stamp o the melten goud, Another o siller clear.
38 When he cam to the chamber-door Where that the dead lay in, There was her mother an six sisters A makin to her a sheet, Wi ae drap o . . . . Another o silk sae white.
39 ‘Stand by, stand by now, ladies a’, Let me look on the dead; The last time that I kiss[t] her lips They war mair bonny red.’
40 ‘Stand by, stand by now, Willie,’ they said, ‘An let ye her alane; Gin ye had done as ye soud done, She wad na there ha lien.’
41 ‘Gar deal, gar deal at Annie’s burrial The wheat bread an the wine, For or the morn at ten o clock Ye’s deal’d as fast at mine.’
5. Whan he cam to his father’s bower, etc. Completed from 36.
7^2. caitle written under cattle.
8^4. Annie written over nought.
11. 4–8 are intended to be repeated, with mother substituted for father.
13, 14. 4–8, 12, are intended to be repeated, with the proper substitutions for brother, sister.
After 19: Something about her sadle and steed.
20^2, 37^2, 38^4. A’; which may be intended.
29. Compare #E# 30: but I am unable to suggest a satisfactory restoration of the stanza.
After 41: etc. See Sweet Willie an Janet. What should follow is probably, Sweet Willie was buried, etc.
There are six stanzas of ‘Lord Thomas and Fair Elenor,’ from Mrs Gammell’s recitation, in Pitcairn’s MSS, III, 35. They are of no value.
75. Lord Lovel.
P. 204 f., note †, 512 b. Add: Hruschka u. Toischer, Deutsche V. l. aus Böhmen, p. 108, No 20, #a-f#.
205 a, note, III, 510 b. For ‘Stolten Hellelille, see Danmarks gamle Folkeviser, V, II, 352, No 312, ‘Gøde og Hillelille.’ Add: ‘Greven og lille Lise,’ Kristensen, Jyske Folkeminder, X, 319, No 79, #A-E#.
205 b, III, 510 b. ‘Den elskedes Død:’ the same volume of Kristensen, ‘Herr Peders Kjæreste,’ p. 327, No 80.
206, 512 b, III, 510 b. ‘Lou Fil del Rey et sa Mio morto,’ Daymard, Vieux Chants p. rec. en Quercy, p. 82.
There is a similar ballad, ending with admonition from the dead mistress, in Luzel, Soniou, I, 324, 25, ‘Cloaregic ar Stanc.’
76. The Lass of Roch Royal.
213 a. Title of #B#. Not Lochroyan in Herd, I, 144, but, both in title and text, Lochvoyan. In Herd, II, 60, the title has Lochroyan; the word does not occur in so much of the text as remains. Printed Lochroyan by Herd, and probably Lochroyan was intended in I, 144, as the alternative, though the last letter but one is indistinctly written, and may be read e. #B# came to Herd “by post from a lady in Ayrshire (?), name unknown.” Also, No 38, #A a#, No 51, #A a#; No 161, #B a#; No 220, #A#. Note (in pencil, and indistinct as to the place), Herd’s MSS, I, 143.
215 a. A part of this ballad is introduced into two versions of ‘The Mother’s Malison,’ No 216; see IV, 186. See also ‘Fair Janet,’ No 64, #A# 13, #D# 5, #G# 5.
217. #B.# Lochvoyan everywhere, not Lochroyan.
221. #E# 2^2. Finlay, in a letter to Scott, March 27, 1803 (Letters, I, No 87), says, “in a copy which I have seen, with the music, it is a birchen, instead of a silver, kame.”
‘The Lass of Lochroyan,’ “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 82, Abbotsford. Communicated to Scott by Major Henry Hutton, Royal Artillery, 24th December, 1802 (Letters I, No 77), as recollected by his father and the family.
Some ten stanzas of this version (16–19, 25–27, 30, 32, 34) appear to have been used by Scott in compiling the copy printed in his Minstrelsy, #E b#. (The note on #E b#, p. 226, requires correction.) There is much in common with #B#, #E a#, #F#.
1 ‘O wha will shoe my bonny foot? And wha will glove my hand? And wha will bind my middle jimp Wi a lang, lang linen band?
2 ‘O wha will kame my yellow hair, With a haw bayberry kame? And wha will be my babe’s father Till Gregory come hame?’
3 ‘Thy father, he will shoe thy foot, Thy brother will glove thy hand, Thy mither will bind thy middle jimp Wi a lang, lang linen band.
4 ‘Thy sister will kame thy yellow hair, Wi a haw bayberry kame; The Almighty will be thy babe’s father Till Gregory come hame.’
5 ‘And wha will build a bonny ship, And set it on the sea? For I will go to seek my love, My ain love Gregory.’
6 Up then spak her father dear, A wafu man was he; ‘And I will build a bonny ship, And set her on the sea.
7 ‘And I will build a bonny ship, And set her on the sea, And ye sal gae and seek your love, Your ain love Gregory.’
8 Then he’s gard build a bonny ship, And set it on the sea, Wi four-and-twenty mariners, To bear her company.
9 O he’s gart build a bonny ship, To sail on the salt sea; The mast was o the beaten gold, The sails [o] cramoisie.
10 The sides were o the gude stout aik, The deck o mountain pine, The anchor o the silver shene, The ropes o silken twine.
11 She had na saild but twenty leagues, But twenty leagues and three, When she met wi a rank rever, And a’ his companie.
12 ‘Now are ye queen of heaven hie, Come to pardon a’ our sin? Or are ye Mary Magdalane, Was born at Bethlam?’
13 ‘I’m no the queen of heaven hie, Come to pardon ye your sin, Nor am I Mary Magdalane, Was born in Bethlam.
14 ‘But I’m the lass of Lochroyan, That’s sailing on the sea To see if I can find my love, My ain love Gregory.’
15 ‘O see na ye yon bonny bower? It’s a’ covered oer wi tin; When thou hast saild it round about, Lord Gregory is within.’
16 And when she saw the stately tower, Shining both clear and bright, Whilk stood aboon the jawing wave, Built on a rock of height,
17 Says, Row the boat, my mariners, And bring me to the land, For yonder I see my love’s castle, Close by the salt sea strand.
18 She saild it round, and saild it round, And loud and loud cried she ‘Now break, now break your fairy charms, And set my true-love free.’
19 She’s taen her young son in her arms And to the door she’s gane, And long she knockd, and sair she ca’d, But answer got she nane.
20 ‘O open, open, Gregory! O open! if ye be within; For here’s the lass of Lochroyan, Come far fra kith and kin.
21 ‘O open the door, Lord Gregory! O open and let me in! The wind blows loud and cauld, Gregory, The rain drops fra my chin.
22 ‘The shoe is frozen to my foot, The glove unto my hand, The wet drops fra my yellow hair, Na langer dow I stand.’
23 O up then spak his ill mither, An ill death may she die! ‘Y’re no the lass of Lochroyan, She’s far out-our the sea.
24 ‘Awa, awa, ye ill woman, Ye’re no come here for gude; Ye’re but some witch or wil warlock, Or mermaid o the flood.’
25 ‘I am neither witch nor wil warlock, Nor mermaid o the sea, But I am Annie of Lochroyan, O open the door to me!’
26 ‘Gin ye be Annie of Lochroyan, As I trow thou binna she, Now tell me of some love-tokens That past tween thee and me.’
27 ‘O dinna ye mind, love Gregory, As we sat at the wine, We chang’d the rings frae our fingers? And I can shew thee thine.
28 ‘O yours was gude, and gude enough, But ay the best was mine, For yours was o the gude red gowd, But mine o the diamond fine.
29 ‘Yours was o the gude red gowd, Mine o the diamond fine; Mine was o the purest troth, But thine was false within.’
30 ‘If ye be the lass of Lochroyan, As I kenna thou be, Tell me some mair o the love-tokens Past between thee and me.’
31 ‘And dinna ye mind, love Gregory, As we sat on the hill, Thou twin’d me o my maidenheid, Right sair against my will?
32 ‘Now open the door, love Gregory! Open the door! I pray; For thy young son is in my arms, And will be dead ere day.’
33 ‘Ye lie, ye lie, ye ill woman, So loud I hear ye lie; For Annie of the Lochroyan Is far out-our the sea.’
34 Fair Annie turnd her round about: ‘Weel, sine that it be sae, May neer woman that has borne a son Hae a heart sae fu o wae!
35 ‘Take down, take down that mast o gowd, Set up a mast of tree; It disna become a forsaken lady To sail sae royallie.’
36 When the cock had crawn, and the day did dawn, And the sun began to peep, Up then raise Lord Gregory, And sair, sair did he weep.
37 ‘O I hae dreamd a dream, mither, I wish it may bring good! That the bonny lass of Lochroyan At my bower-window stood.
38 ‘O I hae dreamd a dream, mither, The thought o’t gars me greet! That fair Annie of Lochroyan Lay dead at my bed-feet.’
39 ‘Gin it be for Annie of Lochroyan That ye make a’ this main, She stood last night at your bower-door, But I hae sent her hame.’
40 ‘O wae betide ye, ill woman, An ill death may ye die! That wadna open the door yoursell Nor yet wad waken me.’
41 O he’s gane down to yon shore-side, As fast as he coud dree, And there he saw fair Annie’s bark A rowing our the sea.
42 ‘O Annie, Annie,’ loud he cried, ‘O Annie, O Annie, bide!’ But ay the mair he cried Annie The braider grew the tide.
43 ‘O Annie, Annie, dear Annie, Dear Annie, speak to me!’ But ay the louder he gan call The louder roard the sea.
44 The wind blew loud, the waves rose hie And dashd the boat on shore; Fair Annie’s corpse was in the feume, The babe rose never more.
45 Lord Gregory tore his gowden locks And made a wafu moan; Fair Annie’s corpse lay at his feet, His bonny son was gone.
46 ‘O cherry, cherry was her cheek, And gowden was her hair, And coral, coral was her lips, Nane might with her compare.’
47 Then first he kissd her pale, pale cheek, And syne he kissd her chin, And syne he kissd her wane, wane lips, There was na breath within.
48 ‘O wae betide my ill mither, An ill death may she die! She turnd my true-love frae my door, Who came so far to me.
49 ‘O wae betide my ill mither, An ill death may she die! She has no been the deid o ane, But she’s been the deid of three.’
50 Then he’s taen out a little dart, Hung low down by his gore, He thrust it through and through his heart, And words spak never more.
1^1, 43^1. Oh.
77. Sweet William’s Ghost.
P. 233. #G.# These three stanzas, which Scott annexed to ‘Clerk Saunders’ in the second edition of the Minstrelsy, 1803, II, 41, were contributed by the Ettrick Shepherd, who writes, not quite lucidly: “Altho this ballad [Clerk Saunders] is mixed with another, according to my mother’s edition, in favour of whose originality I am strongly prepossessed, yet, as the one does in no sense disgrace the other in their present form, according to her it ends thus.”
“Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 141, Abbotsford; in the handwriting of James Hogg.
1 ‘But plett a wand o bonnie birk An lay it on my breast, An drap a tear upon my grave, An wiss my saul gude rest.
2 ‘But fair Marget, an rare Marget, An Marget, o verity, If eer ye loe another man, Neer loe him as ye did me.’
3 But up then crew the milk-white cock, An up then crew the grey; Her lover vanishd in the air, An she gaed weepin away.
78. The Unquiet Grave.
P. 236 b. Add: Waldau’s Böhmische Granaten, II, 121, No 176.
236 f., III, 512 f. The Rev. S. Baring-Gould has recovered several copies of ‘The Unquiet Grave’ in the West Country. It will be observed that the variations in this ballad do not take a wide range. The verses are not always sung in the same order; there is not story enough to keep them in place. Mr Baring-Gould informs me that there is a Devon popular tale which is very similar (possibly a prose version of the ballad). In this, a bramble-leaf comes between the lips of the maiden and her dead lover, and her life is saved thereby. This tale is utilized in the ballad as printed in Songs of the West, No 6, ‘Cold blows the wind, sweetheart!’
* * * * *
H
#a.# Sent Rev. S. Baring-Gould by Mrs Gibbons, daughter of the late Sir W. L. Trelawney, as she remembered it sung by her nurse, Elizabeth Doidge, a woman of the neighborhood of Brentor, about 1828. #b.# Obtained by the same from John Woodrich, blacksmith, parish of Thrustleton, as heard from his grandmother about 1848. #c.# By the same, from Anne Roberts, Scobbeter.
1 ‘Cold blows the wind tonight, sweet-heart, Cold are the drops of rain; The very first love that ever I had In greenwood he was slain.
2 ‘I’ll do as much for my sweet-heart As any young woman may; I’ll sit and mourn on his grave-side A twelve-month and a day.’
3 A twelve-month and a day being up, The ghost began to speak: ‘Why sit you here by my grave-side And will not let me sleep?
4 ‘What is it that you want of me, Or what of me would have?’ ‘A kiss from off your lily-white lips, And that is all I crave!’
5 ‘Cold are my lips in death, sweet-heart, My breath is earthy strong; To gain a kiss of my cold lips, Your time would not be long.
6 ‘If you were not my own sweet-heart, As now I know you be, I’d tear you as the withered leaves That grew on yonder tree.’
7 ‘O don’t you mind the garden, love, Where you and I did walk? The fairest flower that blossomd there Is withered on the stalk.
* * * * * *
8 ‘And now I’ve mourned upon his grave A twelvemonth and a day, We’ll set our sails before the wind And so we’ll sail away.’
b.
1 Cold blows the wind to-night, my love, Cold are the drops of rain; The very first love that ever I had In greenwood he was slain.
2 ‘I’ll do as much for my true-love As any young woman may; I’ll sit and mourn upon his grave A twelve-month and a day.’
3 When a twelve-month and a day were up, His body straight arose: ‘What brings you weeping oer my grave That I get no repose?’
4 ‘O think upon the garden, love, Where you and I did walk; The fairest flower that blossomd there Is withered on the stalk.
5 ‘The stalk will bear no leaves, sweet-heart. The flower will neer return, And my true-love is dead, is dead, And I do naught but mourn.’
6 ‘What is it that you want of me And will not let me sleep? Your salten tears they trickle down And wet my winding-sheet.’
7 ‘What is it that I want of thee, O what of thee in grave? A kiss from off your lily-white lips, And that is all I crave.’
8 ‘Cold are my lips in death, sweet-heart, My breath is earthy strong; If you do touch my clay-cold lips, Your time will not be long.’
9 ‘Cold though your lips in death, sweet-heart, One kiss is all I crave; I care not, if I kiss but thee, That I should share thy grave.’
10 ‘Go fetch me a light from dungeon deep, Wring water from a stone, And likewise milk from a maiden’s breast That never maid hath none. (Read babe had.)
* * * * * *
11 ‘Now if you were not true in word, As now I know you be, I’d tear you as the withered leaves Are torn from off the tree.’
c.
1 ‘It’s for to meet the falling drops, Cold fall the drops of rain; The last true-love, etc.
2 ‘I’ll do as much for my fair love As any,’ etc.
The rest “almost exactly” as #b#.
‘Charles Graeme,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 89, Motherwell’s MS., p. 624, begins with stanzas which belong to this ballad. What follows after the third, or just possibly the sixth, stanza reads as if some contributor had been diverting himself with an imposition on the editor’s simplicity. Buchan himself remarks in a note, p. 299: “There seems to be a very great inconsistency manifested throughout the whole of this ballad in the lady’s behavior towards the ghost of her departed lover. Perhaps she wished to sit and sigh alone, undisturbed with visits from the inhabitants of the grave.” (Translated by Gerhard, p. 63.)
1 ‘Cauld, cauld blaws the winter night, Sair beats the heavy rain; Young Charles Graeme’s the lad I love, In greenwood he lies slain.
2 ‘But I will do for Charles Graeme What other maidens may; I’ll sit and harp upon his grave A twelvemonth and a day.’
3 She harped a’ the live-lang night, The saut tears she did weep, Till at the hour o one o’clock His ghost began to peep.
4 Pale and deadly was his cheek, And pale, pale was his chin; And how and hollow were his een, No light appeard therein.
5 ‘Why sit ye here, ye maiden fair, To mourn sae sair for me?’ ‘I am sae sick, and very love-sick, Aye foot I cannot jee.
6 ‘Sae well’s I loved young Charles Graeme, I kent he loved me; My very heart’s now like to break For his sweet companie.’
7 ‘Will ye hae an apple, lady, And I will sheave it sma?’ ‘I am sae sick, and very love-sick, I cannot eat at a’.’
8 ‘Will ye hae the wine, lady, And I will drain it sma?’ ‘I am sae sick, and very love-sick, I cannot drink at a’.
9 ‘See ye not my father’s castle, Well covered ower wi tin? There’s nane has sic an anxious wish As I hae to be in.’
10 ‘O hame, fair maid, ye’se quickly won, But this request grant me; When ye are safe in downbed laid, That I may sleep wi thee.’
11 ‘If hame again, sir, I could win, I’ll this request grant thee; When I am safe in downbed laid, This night ye’se sleep wi me.’
12 Then he poud up a birken bow, Pat it in her right han, And they are to yon castle fair, As fast as they coud gang.
13 When they came to yon castle fair, It was piled round about; She slipped in and bolted the yetts, Says, Ghaists may stand thereout.
14 Then he vanishd frae her sight In the twinkling o an ee; Says, Let never ane a woman trust Sae much as I’ve done thee.
80. Old Robin of Portingale.
P. 240, 513 a, III, 514. Mabillon cites Balderic’s history of the first crusade, whose words are: “Multi etiam de gente plebeia crucem sibi divinitus innatam jactando ostentabant, quod et idem quædam ex mulierculis præsumpserunt; hoc enim falsum deprehensum est omnino. Multi vero ferrum callidum instar crucis sibi adhibuerunt, vel peste jactantiæ, vel bonæ suæ voluntatis ostentatione.” Migne, Patrologiæ Curs. Compl., tom. clxvi, col. 1070.
A man who is looking forward to a pilgrimage to the Holy Land wishes to have the cross burned into his right shoulder, since then, though he should be stript of his clothes, the cross would remain: Miracula S. Thomæ, Auctore Benedicto, Robertson, Materials for the History of Thomas Becket, II, 175. The branding of the cross in the flesh must have become common, since it was forbidden by the canon law. In some editions of the Sarum Missal, a warning is inserted in the Servitium Peregrinorum: “Combustio crucis in carne peregrinis euntibus Hierusalem prohibitum est in lege, secundum jura canonica, sub pœna excommunicationis majoris.” Sarum Missal, Burntisland, 1867, col. 856*. (Cited by Cutts, Scenes and Characters of the Middle Ages, p. 167.)
81. Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard.
P. 242 ff. #F#, which Jamieson says he received from Scotland, happens to have been preserved at Abbotsford. Since Jamieson made a considerable number of small changes, the original text is now given here.
“Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 133 c, Abbotsford; in the handwriting of James Hogg.
1 ‘I have a towr in Dalesberry, Whilk now is dearly dight, And I will gie it to young Musgrave, To lodge wi me a night.’
2 ‘To lodge wi thee a night, fair lady, Wad breed baith sorrow and strife; For I see by the rings on your fingers Ye’re good Lord Barnaby’s wife.’
3 ‘Lord Barnaby’s wife although I be, Yet what is that to thee? For we’l beguile him for this ae night; He’s on to fair Dundee.
4 ‘Come here, come here, my little foot-page, This guinea I will give thee, If ye will keep thir secrets closs Tween young Musgrave an me.
5 ‘But here hae I a little pen-knife, Hings low down by my gare; If ye dinna keep thir secrets closs, Ye’l find it wonder sair.’
6 Then she’s taen him to her chamber, An down in her arms lay he; The boy koost off his hose an shoon An ran for fair Dundee.
7 When he came to the wan water, He slackd his bow an swam, An when he wan to growan gress Set down his feet an ran.
8 And whan he came to fair Dundee, Could nouther rap nor ca, But set his braid bow to his breast An merrily jumpd the wa.
9 ‘O waken ye, waken ye, my good lord, Waken, an come away!’ ‘What ails, what ails my wee foot-page He cry’s sae lang or day?
10 ‘O is my towers burnt, my boy? Or is my castle won? Or has the lady that I loe best Brought me a daughter or son?’
11 ‘Your halls are safe, your towers are safe An free frae all alarms; But oh, the lady that ye loe best Lyes sound i Musgrave’s arms.’
12 ‘Gae saddle me the black,’ he cry’d, ‘Gae saddle me the gray; Gae saddle me the milk-white steed, To hie me out the way.’
13 ‘O lady, I heard a wee horn tout, An it blew wonder clear, An ay the turnin o the note Was, Barnaby will be here!
14 ‘I thought I heard a wee horn blaw, An it blew loud an hie, An ay at ilka turn it said, Away, Musgrave, away!’
15 ‘Lye still, my dear, lye still, my dear, Ye keep me frae the cold! For it is but my father’s shepherds, Drivin there flocks to the fold.’
16 Up they lookit, an down they lay, An they’re fa’n sound asleep; Till up start good Lord Barnaby, Just closs at their bed-feet.
17 ‘How do ye like my bed, Musgrave? An how like ye my sheets? An how like ye my fair lady, Lyes in your arms an sleeps?’
18 ‘Weel I like your bed, my lord, An weel I like your sheets; But ill like I your fair lady, Lyes in my arms an sleeps.
19 ‘You got your wale o se’en sisters, An I got mine o five; So take ye mine, an I’s take thine, An we nae mair shall strive.’
20 ‘O my woman’s the best woman That ever brake world’s bread, But your woman’s the worst woman That ever drew coat oer head.
21 ‘I have two swords in my scabbart, They are baith sharp an clear; Take ye the best, and I the worst, An we’l end the matter here.
22 ‘But up an arm thee, young Musgrave, We’l try it hand to hand; It’s neer be said o Lord Barnaby He struck at a naked man.’
23 The first stroke that young Musgrave got, It was baith deep an sair, An down he fell at Barnaby’s feet, An word spak never mair.
24 ‘A grave! a grave!’ Lord Barnaby cry’d, ‘A grave to lay them in! My lady shall lye on the sunny side, Because of her noble kin.’
25 But O how sorry was that good lord, For a’ his angry mood, When he espy’d his ain young son All weltering in his blood!
The following copy was kindly communicated to me by Mr David MacRitchie, Honorary Secretary of the Gypsy Lore Society, in advance of its publication in the Journal of the society. While it preserves the framework of the story, it differs very considerably in details from all the printed copies. It is evidently of the same origin as some of the Scottish versions (all of which seem to derive from print), though it has no marked resemblance to the actual form of any particular one of these. Some peculiarities are plausibly attributable to dim or imperfect recollection. Thus, the ball-play of #D#, #E#, etc., is turned into a ball. Lord Barnard is made a king, and the page the king’s brother (neither of which changes is an improvement). We may observe that in #J# Lord Barnabas is at the king’s court, and in #I# Sir Grove is Lord Bengwill’s brother; but these points are not decisive, and the changes may be purely arbitrary. 4 shows traces of #E# 5 and #F# 3; 8 may have been suggested by something like #G# 4; and the last line of 14 looks like a corruption of #G# 29. This involves the supposition that the source of the ballad was a version somewhat different from any hitherto recovered; but ‘Little Musgrave’ is one of the best known of all ballads, and the variants must have been innumerable. On the whole, 1–8, 14, present a free treatment of ill-remembered matter; 9–13 are fairly well preserved; compare #E# 13–17.
* * * * *
O
‘Moss Groves,’ taken down in 1891 by Mr John Sampson, Liverpool, from Philip Murray, an old tinker, who learned the ballad in his boyhood from an old gypsy named Amos Rice.
1 There was four-and-twenty ladies Assembled at a ball, And who being there but the king’s wife, The fairest of them all.
2 She put her eye on the Moss Groves, Moss Groves put his eye upon she: ‘How would you like, my little Moss Groves, One night to tarry with me?’
3 ‘To sleep one night with you, fair lady, It would cause a wonderful sight; For I know by the ring upon your hand You are the king’s wife.’
4 ‘If I am the king’s wife, I mean him to beguile; For he has gone on a long distance, And won’t be back for a while.’
5 Up spoke his brother, An angry man was he; ‘Another night I’ll not stop in the castle Till my brother I’ll go see.’
6 When he come to his brother, He was in a hell of a fright: ‘Get up, get up, brother dear! There’s a man in bed with your wife.’
7 ‘If it’s true you tell unto me, A man I’ll make of thee; If it’s a lie you tell unto me, It’s slain thou shalt be.’
8 When he came to his hall, The bells begun to ring, And all the birds upon the bush They begun to sing.
9 ‘How do you like my covering-cloths? And how do you like my sheets? How do you like my lady fair, All night in her arms to sleep?’
10 ‘Your covering-cloths I like right well, Far better than your sheets; Far better than all your lady fair, All night in her arms to sleep.’
11 ‘Get up, get up now, little Moss Groves, Your clothing do put on; It shall never be said in all England That I drew on a naked man.
12 ‘There is two swords all in the castle That cost me very dear; You take the best, and I the worst, And let’s decide it here.’
13 The very first blow Moss Groves he gave, He wounded the king most sore; The very first blow the king gave him, Moss Groves he struck no more.
14 She lifted up his dying head And kissed his cheek and chin: ‘I’d sooner have you now, little Moss Groves, Than all their castles or kings.’
259 a. Insert under #C#: #d.# Printed and sold in Aldermary Church-yard, Bow Lane, London.
83. Child Maurice.
P. 266. #B.# Motherwell sent ‘Child Noryce’ to Sir Walter Scott in a letter dated 28 April, 1825 (Letters, XIV, No 94, Abbotsford). He changed several readings (as, orders to errand, in 6^4), and in three cases went back to original readings which he has altered in his manuscript. I am now convinced that the alterations made in the manuscript are not in general, if ever, corrections derived from the reciters, but Motherwell’s own improvements, and that the original readings should be adhered to.
86. Young Benjie.
P. 281. “From Jean Scott.” In the handwriting of William Laidlaw. “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 29, Abbotsford.
Excepting the first stanza, the whole of this fragment (with slight changes) is found in the ballad in Scott’s Minstrelsy. That ballad has about twice as many verses, and the other half might easily have been supplied by the editor.
1 Fair Marjorie sat i her bower-door, Sewin her silken seam, When by then cam her false true-love, Gard a’ his bridles ring.
2 ‘Open, open, my true-love, Open an let me in;’ ‘I dare na, I dare na, my true-love, My brethren are within.’
3 ‘Ye lee, ye lee, my ain true-love, Sae loud I hear ye lee! For or I cam thrae Lothian banks They took fare-weel o me.’
4 The wind was loud, that maid was proud, An leath, leath to be dung, But or she wan the Lothian banks Her fair coulour was gane.
5 He took her up in his armis, An threw her in the lynn.
6 Up then spak her eldest brother, Said, What is yon I see? Sure, youn is either a drowned ladie Or my sister Marjorie.
7 Up then spak her second brother, Said, How will wi her ken? Up then spak her . . . brother, There a hinnie-mark on her chin.
8 About the midle o the night The cock began to craw; About the middle o the night The corpse began to thraw.
9 ‘O whae has doon ye wrang, sister? O whae has doon ye wrang?’
10 ‘Young Boonjie was the ae first man I laid my love upon; He was sae proud an hardie He threw me oer the lynne.’
11 ‘O shall we Boonjie head, sister? Or shall we Boonjie hang? Or shall we pyke out his twa grey eyes, An punish him or he gang?’
12 ‘O ye sanna Boonjie head, brother, Ye sana Boonjie hang; But ye maun pyke out his twa grey eyes, An punish him or he gang.’
13 ‘The ae best man about your house Maun wait young Boonjie on.’
3^3. thare.
4 should probably follow 5.
6^3. either a substituted for some.
7^3. her second: second struck out. youngest?
8^2. The corpse: corpse struck out.
89. Fause Foodrage.
P. 297. #Danish.# Now printed as No 298 of Danmarks gamle Folkeviser, by Axel Olrik, the continuator of that noble collection, with the title ‘Svend af Vollersløv.’ There are fifteen old versions besides Tragica 18 (which is a compounded and partly ungenuine text) and the one recently printed by Kristensen, the basis of which is the copy in Tragica. ‘Ung Villum’ is Tragica 18 with two stanzas omitted.
298, III, 515 b. ‘Liden Engel’ is No 297 of Danmarks gamle Folkeviser. There are eight old copies, and Kristensen has added five from recent tradition: the two here noted and three in Jyske Folkeminder, No 49, #A-C#, 201 ff. There is also a Swedish copy of 1693, printed in Dybeck’s Runa, 1844, p. 98, which I had not observed.
90. Jellon Grame.
P. 303 b, 513 b, III, 515 b. Robert le Diable in Luzel’s ballad, II, 24 f, when one year old, was as big as a child of five.
At the age of five, Cuchulinn sets out for his uncle’s court, where he performs prodigies of strength. In his seventh year he is received among the heroes, etc.: Zimmer, Göttingische Gelehrte Anzeigen, 1890, pp. 519–20. Merlin, when two years old, “speaks and goes,” and defends his mother before the justice: Arthour and Merlin, vv. 1069–70, ed. Turnbull for the Abbotsford Club, p. 41. Ögmundr when seven years old was as strong as a full-grown man: Örvar-Odds Saga, c. 19, Rafn, Fornaldar Sögur, II, 241. The three-nights-old son of Thórr and Járnsaxa removes the foot of Hrungnir from the neck of his father when all the gods have tried in vain. He also speaks. Skáldskaparmál, c. 17. “The Shee an Gannon was born in the morning, named at noon, and went in the evening to ask his daughter of the king of Erin:” Curtin, Myths and Folk-Lore of Ireland, p. 114. Cf. p. 223, where a champion jumps out of the cradle. (G. L. K.)
91. Fair Mary of Wallington.
P. 309. #B.# “The ballad about Lady Livingston appears to be founded on a truth; her fate is mentioned by Sir R. Gordon. Only her mother, Lady Huntley, is made a queen; which it was natural enough in a Highland poet to do.” Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe to Sir Walter Scott, Letters, XV, No 231, Abbotsford, 1825 or 26.
What Sir Robert Gordon says is: “In July 1616 yeirs, Elizabeth Gordoun, Ladie of Livingstoun (wyff to the Lord Livingstoun, now Earle of Lithgow), daughter to the Marquis of Huntly, died in chyld-bed, at Edinburgh, of a son called George, who is now Lord Livingstoun.” (Genealogy of the Earls of Sutherland, p. 335.) The characteristic particulars are wanting.
#D# is also in Kinloch MSS, V, 363, in the youthful handwriting of J. H. Burton, and is probably the original copy. The differences from the text of #D#, p. 314, except spellings, are these:
1^1, it was. 1^3, and me.
93. Lamkin.
P. 321, note *. See further in Notes and Queries, First Series, II, 519; V, 32, 112, 184, 355.
321 ff., 513.
* * * * *
X
‘Lamkin,’ “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 133, Abbotsford; in the handwriting of James Hogg.
1 Lamkin was as good a mason As ever liftit stane; He built to the laird o Lariston, But payment gat he nane.
2 Oft he came, an ay he came, To that good lord’s yett, But neither at dor nor window Ony entrance could get.
3 Till ae wae an weary day Early he came, An it fell out on that day That good lord was frae hame.
4 He bade steek dor an window, An prick them to the gin, Nor leave a little wee hole, Else Lamkin wad be in.
5 Noorice steekit dor an window, She steekit them to the gin; But she left a little wee hole That Lamkin might win in.
6 ‘O where’s the lady o this house?’ Said cruel Lamkin; ‘She’s up the stair sleepin,’ Said fause noorice then.
7 ‘How will we get her down the stair?’ Said cruel Lamkin; ‘We’l stogg the baby i the cradle,’ Said fause noorice then.
8 He stoggit, and she rockit, Till a’ the floor swam, An a’ the tors o the cradle Red wi blude ran.
9 ‘O still my son, noorise, O still him wi the kane;’ ‘He winna still, madam, Till Lariston come hame.’
10 ‘O still my son, noorice, O still him wi the knife;’ ‘I canna still him, madam, If ye sude tak my life.’
11 ‘O still my soon, noorice, O still him wi the bell;’ ‘He winna still, madam, Come see him yoursel.’
12 Wae an weary rase she up, Slowly pat her on Her green claethin o the silk, An slowly came she down.
13 The first step she steppit, It was on a stone; The first body she saw Was cruel Lamkin.
14 ‘O pity, pity, Lamkin, Hae pity on me!’ ‘Just as meikle pity, madam, As ye paid me o my fee.’
15 ‘I’ll g’ye a peck o good red goud, Streekit wi the wand; An if that winna please ye, I’ll heap it wi my hand.
16 ‘An if that winna please ye, O goud an o fee, I’ll g’ye my eldest daughter, Your wedded wife to be.’
17 ‘Gae wash the bason, lady, Gae wash’t an mak it clean, To kep your mother’s heart’s-blude, For she’s of noble kin.’
18 ‘To kep my mother’s heart’s-blude I wad be right wae; O tak mysel, Lamkin, An let my mother gae.’
19 ‘Gae wash the bason, noorice, Gae wash’t an mak it clean, To kep your lady’s heart’s-blude, For she’s o noble kin.’
20 ‘To wash the bason, Lamkin, I will be right glad, For mony, mony bursen day About her house I’ve had.’
21 But oh, what dule an sorrow Was about that lord’s ha, When he fand his lady lyin As white as driven snaw!
22 O what dule an sorrow Whan that good lord cam in, An fand his young son murderd, I the chimley lyin!
9^2. kane. kame, #B# 13^2. But cf. wand, #A# 16^2 #J# 10^2, #M# 3^2.
95. The Maid freed from the Gallows.
P. 346, III, 516 a. Add ‘Leggenda Napitina’ (still sung by the sailors of Pizzo); communicated to La Calabria, June 15, 1889, p. 74, by Salvatore Mele; Canto Marinaresco di Nicotera, the same, September 15, 1890. A wife is rescued by her husband.
347 b. #Swedish.# ‘Den bortsålda,’ Lagus, Nyländska Folkvisor, I, 22, No 6, a, b, c.
349 b, 514 a, III, 516 b, and especially 517 a. A wounded soldier calls to mother, sister, father, brother for a drink of water, and gets none; calls to his love, and she brings it: Waldau, Böhmische Granaten, II, 57, No 81.
* * * * *
I
“Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 127, Abbotsford. Sent to John Leyden, by whom and when does not appear.
1 ‘Hold your tongue, Lord Judge,’ she says, ‘Yet hold it a little while; Methinks I see my ain dear father Coming wandering many a mile.
2 ‘O have you brought me gold, father? Or have you brought me fee? Or are you come to save my life From off this gallows-tree?’
3 ‘I have not brought you gold, daughter, Nor have I brought you fee, But I am come to see you hangd, As you this day shall be.’
[“The verses run thus untill she has seen her mother, her brother, and her sister likewise arrive, and then
Methinks I see my ain dear lover, etc.”]
4 ‘I have not brought you gold, true-love, Nor yet have I brought fee, But I am come to save thy life From off this gallows-tree.’
5 ‘Gae hame, gae hame, father,’ she says, ‘Gae hame and saw yer seed; And I wish not a pickle of it may grow up, But the thistle and the weed.
6 ‘Gae hame, gae hame, gae hame, mother, Gae hame and brew yer yill; And I wish the girds may a’ loup off, And the Deil spill a’ yer yill.
7 ‘Gae hame, gae hame, gae hame, brother, Gae hame and lie with yer wife; And I wish that the first news I may hear That she has tane your life.
8 ‘Gae hame, gae hame, sister,’ she says, ‘Gae hame and sew yer seam; I wish that the needle-point may break, And the craws pyke out yer een.’
* * * * *
J
Communicated by Dr George Birkbeck Hill, May 10, 1890, as learned forty years before from a schoolfellow, who came from the north of Somersetshire and sang it in the dialect of that region. Given from memory.
1 ‘Hold up, hold up your hands so high! Hold up your hands so high! For I think I see my own father Coming over yonder stile to me.
2 ‘Oh father, have you got any gold for me? Any money for to pay me free? To keep my body from the cold clay ground, And my neck from the gallows-tree?’
3 ‘Oh no, I’ve got no gold for thee, No money for to pay thee free, For I’ve come to see thee hangd this day, And hangëd thou shalt be.’
4 ‘Oh the briers, prickly briers, Come prick my heart so sore; If ever I get from the gallows-tree, I’ll never get there any more.’
[“The same verses are repeated, with mother, brother, and sister substituted for father. At last the sweetheart comes. The two first verses are the same, and the third and fourth as follows.”]
5 ‘Oh yes, I’ve got some gold for thee, Some money for to pay thee free; I’ll save thy body from the cold clay ground, And thy neck from the gallows-tree.’
6 ‘Oh the briers, prickly briers, Don’t prick my heart any more; For now I’ve got from the gallows-tree I’ll never get there any more.’
[“I do not know any title to this song except ‘Hold up, hold up your hands so high!’ It was by that title that we called for it.”]
Julius Krohn has lately made an important contribution to our knowledge of this ballad in an article in Virittäjä, II, 36–50, translated into German under the title ‘Das Lied vom Mädchen welches erlöst werden soll,’ Helsingfors, 1891. Professor Estlander had previously discussed the ballad in Finsk Tidskrift, X, 1881 (which I have not yet seen), and had sought to show that it was of Finnish origin, a view which Krohn disputes and refutes. There are nearly fifty Finnish versions. The curse with which #I# ends, and which is noted as occurring in Swedish #C# (compare also the Sicilian ballad), is never wanting in the Finnish, and is found also in the Esthonian copies.
96. The Gay Goshawk.
P. 356 a, III, 517 a. Add: (18) ‘La Fille dans la Tour,’ Daymard, Vieux Chants p. rec. en Quercy, p. 174 ; (19) ‘La belle dans la Tour,’ Pas de Calais, communicated by M. G. Doncieux to Revue des Traditions populaires, VI, 603 ; (20) ‘Belle Idoine,’ Questionnaire de Folklore, publié par la Société du Folklore Wallon, p. 79.
M. Doucieux has attempted a reconstruction of the text in Mélusine, V, 265 ff. He cites M. Gaston Paris as having lately pointed out a striking similitude between the first half of the French popular ballad and that of a little romance of Bele Ydoine composed in the twelfth century by Audefrois le Bastars (Bartsch, Altfranzösische Romanzen und Pastourellen, p. 59, No 57). This resemblance has, I suppose, occasioned the title of ‘Belle Idoine’ to be given editorially to No 20 above, for the name does not occur in the ballad.
356 b, III, 517 a. Add: ‘Au Jardin des Olives,’ Guillon, p. 83, ‘Dessous le Rosier blanc,’ Daymard, p. 171 (Les trois Capitaines). A girl feigns death to avoid becoming a king’s mistress, ‘Hertig Henrik och Konungen,’ Lagus, Nyländska Folkvisor, I, 117, No 37.
363. #E.# The following is the MS. copy, “of some antiquity,” from which #E# was in part constructed. (Whether it be the original or a transcript cannot be determined, but Mr Macmath informs me that the paper on which it is written “seems about the oldest sheet in the volume.”) The text was freely handled. ‘Lord William’ does not occur in it, but the name is found in another version which follows this.
“Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 146 a, Abbotsford.
1 ‘O waly, waly, my gay goss-hawk, Gin your feathering be sheen!’ ‘O waly, waly, my master dear, Gin ye look pale and lean!
2 ‘Whether is it for the gold sae rid, Or is it for the silver clear? Or is it for the lass in southen land, That she cannot win here.’
3 ‘It is not for the gold sae rid, Nor is it for the silver clear, But it is for the lass in southen land, That she cannot win her[e].’
4 ‘Sit down, sit down, my master dear, Write a love-letter hastily, And put it in under my feathern gray, And I’ll away to southen land as fast as I can flee.
5 ‘But how shall I your true-love ken? Or how shall I her know? I bear the tongue never wi her spake, The eye that never her saw.’
6 ‘The red that is in my love’s cheek Is like blood spilt amang the snaw; The white that is on her breast-bone Is like the down on the white sea-maw.
7 ‘There’s one that stands at my love’s gate And opens the silver pin, And there ye may safely set ye on And sing a lovely song.
8 ‘First ye may sing it loud, loud, loud, And then ye may sing it clear, And ay the oerword of the tune Is, Your love cannot win here.’
9 He has written a love-letter, Put it under his feathern gray, And he’s awa to southen land, As fast as ever he may.
10 When he came to the lady’s gate, There he lighted down, And there he sat him on the pin And sang a lovely song.
11 First he sang it loud, loud, loud, And then he sang it clear, And ay the oerword of the tune Was, Your love cannot win here.
12 ‘Hold your tongues, my merry maids all, And hold them a little while; I hear some word from my true-love, That lives in Scotland’s isle.’
13 Up she rose, to the door she goes, To hear what the bird woud say, And he’s let the love-letter fall From under his feathern gray.
14 When she looked the letter on, The tear blinded her eye, And when she read it oer and oer A loud laughter took she.
15 ‘Go hame, go hame, my bonny bird, And to your master tell, If I be nae wi him at Martinmass, I shall be wi him at Yule.’
16 The lady’s to her chamber gane, And a sick woman grew she; The lady’s taen a sudden brash, And nathing she’ll do but die.
17 ‘An asking, an asking, my father dear, An asking grant to me! If that I die in southen land, In Scotland bury me.’
18 ‘Ask on, ask on, my daughter dear, That asking is granted thee; If that you die in southen land, In Scotland I’ll bury thee.’
19 ‘Gar call to me my seven bretheren, To hew to me my bier, The one half of the beaten gold, The other of the silver clear.
20 ‘Go call to me my seven sisters, To sew to me my caul; Every needle-steik that they put in Put by a silver bell.’
21 The first Scots kirk that they came to, They heard the mavis sing; The next Scots kirk that they came to, They heard the dead-bell ring.
22 The next Scots kirk that they came to, They were playing at the foot-ball, And her true-love was them among, The chieftian amangst them all.
23 ‘Set down, set down these corps,’ said he, ‘Let me look them upon;’ As soon as he lookd the lady on, The blood sprang in her chin.
24 ‘One bite of your bread, my love, And one glass of your wine! For I have fasted these five long days, All for your sake and mine.
25 ‘Go hame, go hame, my seven brothers, Go hame and blaw your horn, And ye may tell thro southen land How I playd you the scorn.’
26 ‘Woe to you, my sister dear, And ane ill death may you die! For we left father and mother at hame Breaking their heart for thee.’
The Ettrick Shepherd sent Scott the following stanzas to be inserted in the first edition at places indicated. Most of them are either absolutely base metal or very much worn by circulation. The clever contrivance for breathing (found also in #G# 39, #H# 19) and the bribing of the surgeon provoke scorn and resentment.
‘Gay Gos Hawk,’ “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 143, No 133 a, Abbotsford; in the handwriting of James Hogg.
After 12 of ed. 1802 (E 13):
He happit off the flowry birk, Sat down on the yett-pin, And sang sae sweet the notes o love Till a’ was coush within.
After 15 (E 16): ‘O ye maun send your love a kiss, For he has sent you three; O ye maun send your love a kiss, And ye maun send it wi me.’
‘He has the rings off my fingers, The garland off my hair; He has the heart out o my bouk, What can I send him mair?’
After 22: ‘The third Scotts kirk that ye gang to Ye’s gar them blaw the horn, That a’ the lords o fair Scotland May hear afore the morn.’
After 23: She wyld a wright to bore her chest, For caller air she’d need; She brib’d her surgeon wi the goud To say that she was dead.
After 25: ‘What ails, what ails my daughter dear Her colour bides sae fine?’ The surgeon-lad reply’d again, She’s nouther pin’d nor lien.
After 30: The third Scotts kirk that they cam to, Sae loud they blew the horn, An a’ the lads on yon water Was warnd afore the morn.
After 31: ‘Set down, set down the bier,’ he said, ‘These comely corps I’ll see;’ ‘Away, away,’ her brothers said, ‘For nae sick thing shall be.
‘Her een are sunk, her lips are cold, Her rosy colour gane; ‘T is nine lang nights an nine lang days Sin she deceasd at hame.’
‘Wer’t nine times nine an nine times nine, My true-love’s face I’ll see; Set down the bier, or here I swear My prisners you shall be.’
He drew the nails frae the coffin, An liftit up the cone, An for a’ sae lang as she’d been dead She smil’d her love upon.
After 35: ‘And tell my father he sent me To rot in Scotland’s clay; But he sent me to my Willie, To be his lady gay.’
* * * * *
H
“Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 28 b, Abbotsford; in the handwriting of William Laidlaw.
1 Lord William was walkin i the garden green, Viewin the roses red, An there he spyed his bonnie spier-hawk, Was fleein aboon his head.
2 ‘O could ye speak, my bonnie spier-hawk, As ye hae wings to flee, Then ye wad carry a luve-letter Atween my love an me.’
3 ‘But how can I your true-love ken? Or how can I her know? Or how can I your true-love ken, The face I never saw?’
4 ‘Ye may esily my love ken Amang them ye never saw; The red that’s on o my love’s cheek Is like bluid drapt on the snaw.’
* * * * * *
5 ‘O what will be my meat, master? An what’ll be my fee? An what will be the love-tokens That ye will send wi me?’
6 ‘Ye may tell my love I’ll send her a kiss, A kiss, aye, will I three; If ever she come [to] fair Scotland, My wedded wife she’s be.
7 ‘Ye may tell my love I’ll send her a kiss, A kiss, aye, will I twae; An ever she come to fair Scotland, I the red gold she sall gae.’
* * * * * *
8 The hawk flew high, an she flew leugh, An south aneath the sun, Untill it cam, etc.
9 ‘Sit still, sit still, my six sisters, An sew your silken seam, Till I gae to my bower-window An hear yon Scottish bird sing.’
10 Than she flew high, an she flew leugh, An’ far aboon the wa; She drapit to that ladie’s side, An loot the letter fa.
11 ‘What news, what news, my bonnie burd? An what word carry ye? An what are a’ the love-tokens My love has sent to me?’
12 ‘O ye may send your love a kiss, For he has sent ye three; Ye hae the heart within his buik, What mair can he send thee?’
13 ‘O I will send my love a kiss, A kiss, I, will I three; If I can win to fair Scotland, His wedded wife I’ll be.
14 ‘O I will send my love a kiss, An the caim out o my hair; He has the heart that’s in my buik, What can I send him mair?
15 ‘An gae yer ways, my bonnie burd, An tell my love frae me, If [I] be na there gin Martinmas, Gin Yool I there will be.’
* * * * * *
16 ’Twas up an spak her ill step-minnie, An ill deed may she die! ‘Yer daughter Janet’s taen her bed, An she’ll do nought but die.’
17 ‘An askin, an askin, dear father, An askin I crave o thee; If I should die just at this time, In Scotland burry me.’
18 ‘There’s room enough in wide England To burry thee an me; But sould ye die, my dear daughter, I Scotland I’ll burry thee.’
19 She’s warnd the wrights in lilly Londeen, She’s warnd them ane an a’, To mak a kist wi three windows, The cauler air to blaw.
20 ‘O will ye gae, my six sisters, An sew to me a sheet, The tae half o the silk sae fine, The tother o cambric white.’
21 Then they hae askit the surgeon at, etc.
22 Then said her cruel step-minnie, Take ye the boilin lead An some o ‘t drap on her bosom; We’ll see gif she be dead.
23 Then boilin lead than they hae taen An drappit on her breast; ‘Alas! alas!’ than her father he cried, ‘For she’s dead without the priest!’
24 She neither chatterd in her teeth Nor shivert wi her chin; ‘Alas! alas!’ her father cried, ‘For there nae life within!’
* * * * * *
25 ‘It’s nine lang days, an nine lang nights, She’s wantit meat for me; But for nine days, nine langer nights, Her face ye salna see.’
26 He’s taen the coffin wi his fit, Gard it in flinders flie, etc.
27 ‘Fetch me,’ she said, ‘a cake o yer bread An a wi drap o your wine, For luve o you an for your sake I’ve fastit lang nights nine.’
28 ’Twas up then spak an eldrin knight, A grey-haird knight was he; ‘Now ye hae left yer auld father, For you he’s like to die.
29 ‘An ye hae left yer sax sisters Lamentin a’ for you; I wiss that this, my dear ladie, Ye near may hae to rue.’
30 ‘Commend me to my auld father, If eer ye come him niest; But nought say to my ill step-minnie. Gard burn me on the breist.
31 ‘Commend me to my six sisters, If ye gang bak again; But nought say to my ill step-minnie, Gard burn me on the chin.
32 ‘Commend me to my brethren bald, An ever ye them see; If ever they come to fair Scotland They’s fare nae war than me.
33 ‘For I cam na to fair Scotland To lie amang the dead, But I cam down to fair Scotland To wear goud on my head.
34 ‘Nor did I come to fair Scotland To rot amang the clay, But I cam to fair Scotland To wear goud ilka day.’
10^2. Var. aboon them a’.
367 b. The second edition of the Minstrelsy, 1803, II, 6, inserted 13, from Hogg’s communication, substituted 22, 23, 24 of Laidlaw’s (#H#) for 27, 28, introduced 30 of Laidlaw after 36 (all with changes), and made the consequently necessary alteration in 37.
99. Johnie Scot.
P. 378 b. Another copy of the Breton ballad, ‘Lézobré,’ in Quellien, Chansons et Danses des Bretons, 1889, p. 65.
379 ff.
* * * * *
Q
“Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 4 a, Abbotsford; in the handwriting of William Laidlaw.
1 Young Johnie’s up to England gane Three quarters of a year; Young Johnie’s up to England gane, The king’s banner for to bear.
2 But he had not in England been The one half of the time Till the fairest laidy in all the court Was going with child to him.
3 Word unto the kitchen’s gane, And word’s to the hall, And word unto the court has gane, Among the nobles all.
4 And word unto the chamber’s gane, The place where the king sat, That his only daughter is with child To Johnie, the little Scott.
5 ‘If this be true,’ then sais the king, ‘As I true well it be, I’ll put hir in a strong castle, And hungre hir till she dee.’
6 Hir breast-plate was made of iron, In place of the beaten gold, A belt of steel about hir waist, And O but she was cold!
7 ‘O where will I get a pritty little boy, That will win hoes and shoon, That will go doun to yonder lee And tell my Johnie to come?’
8 ‘Here am I, a pritty little boy, That will win hoes and shoon, And I’ll go doun to yonder lee And tell young Johnie to come.’
9 She has wrote a brod letter, And seald it tenderly, And she has sent it to Johnie the Scott, That lay on yonder lee.
10 When Johnie first the letter got, A blith, blith man was he; But or he read the half of it The salt teer blind Johnie’s ee.
11 ‘I will go to fair England,’ says he, ‘What ever may betide, For to releave that gay laidy Who last lay by my side.’
12 Up then spoke his old mother, A sorrifull woman was she; ‘If you go to England, John, I’ll never see you mare.’
13 Up then spoke Johnie’s father, His head was growing gray; ‘If you go to England, John, O fair you well for me!’
14 Up then spoke Johnie’s uncle, Our Scottish king was he; ‘Five hundred of my merry men Shall bear you company.’
15 When Johnie was mounted on his steed He looked wondorous bold, The hair that oer his shouldiers hang Like threeds of yellow gold.
16 ‘Now come along with me, my men, O come along with me, We’l blow thier castles in the air, And set free my gay laidy.’
17 The first gay town that they came to, Made mass for to be sung; The nixt gay town that they came to, Made bells for to be rung.
18 But when they came to London town, They made the drums beat round, Who made the king and all his court To wonder at the sound.
19 ‘Is this the Duke of Mulberry, Or James the Scottish king? Or is it a young gentleman To England new come home?’
20 ‘It is not the Duke of Mulberry, Nor James the Scottish [king]; But it is a young gentleman, MacNaughten is his name.’
21 ‘If MacNaughten be your name,’ says the king, ‘As I true well it be, Before the morn at eight o clock Dead hanged you shall be.’
22 Up bespoke one of Johnie’s little boys, And a well-spoke boy was he; ‘Before we see our master hangd, We’l all fight till we dee.’
23 ‘Well spoke, well spoke, my little boy, That is well spoke of thee; But I have a champian in my bower That will fight you three by three.’
24 Up then spoke Johnie himself, And he spoke manfully; ‘If it please your Majesty, May I this champian see?’
25 The king and all his nobles then Rode down unto the plain, The queen and all [her] gay marries, To see young Johnie slain.
26 When the champian came out of the bower, He looked at Johnie with disdain; But upon the tope of Johnie’s brodsword This champian soon was slain.
27 He fought on, and Johnie fought on, With swords of tempered steel, And ay the blood like dropes of rain Came trinkling down thier hiel.
28 The very nixt stroke that Johnie gave, He brought him till his knee; The nixt stroke that Johnie gave, He clove his head in twa.
29 He swapt his sword on every side, And turned him on the plain: ‘Have you any more of your English dogs That wants for to be slain?’
30 ‘A clerk, a clerk!’ the king he crys, ‘I’ll seal her taucher free;’ ‘A priest, a priest!’ the queen she crys, ‘For weded they shall be.’
31 ‘I’ll have none of your [gold],’ say[s] he, ‘Nor any of your white money; But I will have my ain true-love; This day she has cost me dear.’
27^4. hill.
29^4. two.
* * * * *
R
“Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 37, Abbotsford, MS. of Thomas Wilkie, p. 11; from Miss Nancy Brockie, Bemerside. Another copy, “Scotch Ballads,” etc., No 139, in the handwriting of T. Wilkie, and somewhat retouched by him.
1 Lord Jonnie’s up to England gone Three quarters of an year; Lord Jonnie’s up to England gone, The king’s banner to bear.
2 He had not been in fair England, Three quarters he was not, Till the king’s eldest daughter Goes with child to Lord Jonnie Scott.
3 Word is to the kitchen gone, And word’s gone to the hall, And word’s gone to the high, high room, Among the nobles all.
4 Word’s gone to the king himsel, In the chamber where he sat, That his eldest daughter goes with child To Lord Jonnie Scott.
5 ‘If that be true,’ the king replied, ‘As I suppose it be, I’ll put her in a prison strong, And starve her till she die.’
6 ‘O where will I get a little boy, That has baith hose and shoon, That will run into fair Scotland, And tell my love to come?’
7 ‘O here is a shirt, little boy, Her own hand sewed the sleeve; Tell her to come to good greenwood, Not ask her father’s leave.’
8 ‘What news, what news, my little boy? What news have ye brought to me?’ ‘No news, no news, my master dear, But what I will tell thee.
9 ‘O here is a shirt, madam, Your awn hand sewed the sleeve; You must gang to good greenwood, Not ask your parents’ leave.’
10 ‘My doors they are all shut, little boy, My windows round about; My feet is in the fetters strong, And I cannot get out.
11 ‘My garters are of the black, black iron, And O but they are cold! My breast-plate’s o the strong, strong steel, Instead of beaten gold.
12 ‘But tell him for to bide away, And not come near to me, For there’s a champion in my father’s ha Will fight him till he dee.’
13 ‘What news, what news, my little boy? What news have ye to me?’ ‘No news, no news, my master dear, But what I will tell thee.
14 ‘Her doors they are all shut, kind sir, Her windows round about; Her feet are in the fetters strong, And she cannot get out.
15 ‘Her garters are of the black, black iron, And O but they are cold! Her breast-plate’s of the strong, strong steel, Instead of beaten gold.
16 ‘She bids you for to bide away, And not go near to see, For there’s a champion in her father’s house Will fight you till you die.’
17 Then up and spoke Lord Jonnie’s mother, But she spoke out of time; ‘O if you go to fair England I fear you will be slain.’
18 But up and spoke a little boy, Just at Lord Jonnie’s knee, ‘Before you lose your ain true-love, We’ll a’ fight till we die.’
19 The first church-town that they came to, They made the bells be rung; The next church-town that they came to, The[y] gard the mass be sung.
20 The next church-town that they came to, They made the drums go through; The king and all his nobles stood Amazing for to view.
21 ‘Is this any English gentleman, Or James our Scottish king? Or is it a Scottish gentleman, To England new come in?’
22 ‘No, ‘t is no English gentleman, Nor James the Scottish king; But it is a Scottish gentleman, Lord Jonnie is my name.’
23 ‘If Lord Jonnie be your name, As I suppose it be, I have a champion in my hall Will fight you till you die.’
24 ‘O go fetch out that gurrley fellow, Go fetch him out to me; Before I lose my ain true-love, We’ll all fight till we die.’
25 Then out and came that gurrly fellow, A gurrly fellow was he, With twa lang sclasps between his eyes, His shoulders there were three.
26 The king and all his nobles stood To see the battle gained; The queen and all her maries stood To see Lord Jonnie slain.
27 The first stroke that Lord Jonnie gave, He wounded very sore; The next stroke that Lord Jonnie gave, The champion could fight no more.
28 He’s taen a whistle out from his side, He’s blawn a blast loud and shill: ‘Is there any more of your English dogs To come here and be killed?’
29 ‘A clerk, a clerk!’ the king did say, ‘To cry her toucher free;’ ‘A priest, a priest!’ Lord Jonnie [did] cry ‘To wed my love and me.
30 ‘’Twas for none of your monnie I fought, Nor for none of your world’s gear; But it was for my own true-love; I think I’ve bought her dear.’
“This song (L. Jonnie) I took down from the same girl who sung Hughie Graeme.”
5^2. supose.
8^3. no news thrice: master wrongly, in anticipation of 13^3.
In No 139.
4^{3,4}. That the king’s eldest daughter Goes with child to.
7^1. There is a shift, little boy.
7^4. parents leave.
8^2. ye to.
16^1. But she.
16^3. father’s hall.
19^2. They gard.
19^4. They made.
22^2. James our.
23^1. name, kind sir.
25^1. out soon.
28^2. blown it baith loud.
29^1. did cry.
29^2. tocher fee.
29^3. Jonnie cri’s.
30^1. our.
30^2. Nor none.
* * * * *
S
“Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 140, Abbotsford; in the handwriting of James Hogg, who remarks at the end: “The repeater of the above song called the hero once or twice Johny Scott, which I ommitted in the MS., seeing it contradicted in the 22 verse. I thought it best to apprise you of this, in case you might find any tract of its being founded on fact, because, if it is not, it hath little else to reccomend it.”
1 O Johny’s up thro England gane Three quarters of a year, An Johny’s up thro England gane, The king’s banner to bear.
2 He had not been in London town But a very little while Till the fairest lady in the court By Johny gaes wi child.
3 But word is to the kitchin gane, An word’s gane to the ha, An word’s gane to yon high, high court, Amang our nobles a’.
4 An when the king got wit o that An angry man was he: ‘On the highest tree in a’ the wood High hangit shall he be!
5 ‘An for the lady, if it’s true, As I do fear it be, I’ll put her in yon castle strong, An starve her till she die.’
6 But Johny had a clever boy, A clever boy was he, O Johny had a clever boy, His name was Gregory.
7 ‘O run, my boy, to yon castle, All windows round about, An there you’l see a fair lady, At a window looking out.
8 ‘Ye maun bid her take this silken sark— Her ain hand sewd the gare— An bid her come to the green wood, For Johny waits her there.’
9 Away he ran to yon castle, All windows round about, Where he espy’d a lady fair, At a window looking out.
10 ‘O madam, there’s a silken sark— Your ain hand sewd the gare— An haste ye to the good green wood, For Johny waits you there.’
11 ‘O I’m confin’d in this castle, Though lighted round about; My feet are bound with fetters strong, That I cannot win out.
12 ‘My gartens are of stubborn ern, Alas! baith stiff and cold; My breastplate of the sturdy steel, Instead of beaten gold.
13 ‘Instead of silken stays, my boy, With steel I’m lac’d about; My feet are bound with fetters strong, And how can I get out?
14 ‘But tell him he must stay at home, Nor venture here for me; Else an Italian in our court Must fight him till he die.’
15 When Johny he got wit o that, An angry man was he: ‘But I will gae wi a’ my men My dearest dear to see.’
16 But up then spake a noble lord, A noble lord was he; ‘The best of a’ my merry men Shall bear you company.’
17 But up then spake his auld mother, I wat wi meikle pain; ‘If ye will gae to London, son, Ye’l neer come back again.’
18 But Johny turnd him round about, I wat wi meikle pride: ‘But I will gae to London town, Whatever may betide.’
19 When they were a’ on horseback set, How comely to behold! For a’ the hairs o Johny’s head Did shine like threads o gold.
20 The first ae town that they gaed through, They gart the bells be rung, But the neist town that they gaed through They gart the mass be sung.
21 But when they gaed to London town The trumpets loud were blown, Which made the king and a’ his court To marvel at the sound.
22 ‘Is this the Duke of Morebattle? Or James the Scottish king?’ ‘No, sire, I’m a Scottish lord, McNaughten is my name.’
23 ‘If you be that young Scottish lord, As I believe you be, The fairest lady in my court She gaes wi child by thee.’
24 ‘And if she be with child by me, As I think sae may be, It shall be heir of a’ my land, And she my gay lady.’
25 ‘O no, O no,’ the king reply’d, ‘That thing can never be, For ere the morn at ten o clock I’ll slay thy men an thee.
26 ‘A bold Italian in my court Has vanquishd Scotchmen three, And ere the morn at ten o clock I’m sure he will slay thee.’
27 But up then spake young Johny’s boy, A clever boy was he; ‘O master, ere that you be slain, There’s mae be slain than thee.’
28 The king and all his court appeard Neist morning on the plain, The queen and all her ladies came To see youn[g] Johny slain.
29 Out then stepd the Italian bold, And they met on the green; Between his shoulders was an ell, A span between his een.
30 When Johny in the list appeard, Sae young and fair to see, A prayer staw frae ilka heart, A tear frae ilka ee.
31 And lang they fought, and sair they fought, Wi swords o temperd steel, Until the blood like draps o rain Came trickling to their heal.
32 But Johny was a wannle youth, And that he weel did show; For wi a stroke o his broad sword He clove his head in two.
33 ‘A priest, a priest!’ then Johny cry’d, ‘To wed my love and me;’ ‘A clerk, a clerk!’ the king reply’d, ‘To write her tocher free.’
* * * * *
T
‘John, the little Scot;’ in the youthful handwriting of Sir Walter Scott, inserted, as No 4, at the beginning of a MS. volume, in small folio, containing a number of prose pieces, etc., Abbotsford Library, L. 2.
1 Johnny’s gane up to fair England Three quarters of a year, And Johny’s gane up to fair England, The king’s broad banner to bear.
2 He had not been in fair England, Even but a little while, When that the king’s ae dochter To Johnny gaes wi child.
3 And word is gane to the kitchen, And word’s gane to the ha, And word’s gane to the high, high court, Amang the nobles a’.
4 And word is gane unto the king, In the chair where he sat, That his ae dochter’s wi bairn To John the little Scott.
5 ‘If that I thought she is wi bairn, As I true weell she be, I’ll put her up in high prison, And hunger her till she die.’
6 ‘There is a silken sark, Johnny, My ain sell sewed the gare, And if ye come to tak me hence Ye need nae taken mare.
7 ‘For I am up in high prison, And O but it is cold! My garters are o the cold, cold iron, In place o the beaten gold.’
8 ‘Is this the Duke o York?’ they said, ‘Or James the Scottish king? Or is it John the little Scott, Frae Scotland new come hame?’
9 ‘I have an Italian in my bower, This day he has eaten three; Before I either eat or sleep The fourth man ye shall be.’
10 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Between his een there was two spans, His shoulders ells were three.
11 Johnny drew forth his good braid glaive And slate it on the plain: ‘Is there any more of your Italian dogs That wanteth to be slain?’
12 ‘A clerk, a clerk!’ her father cry’d ‘To register this deed;’ ‘A priest, a priest!’ her mother cry’d, ‘To marry them wi speed.’
1^1. gane struck out.
1^4. broad struck out.
8^1. king o Scots, originally, for Duke o York.
9^1. n Italian struck out, and Lion written above.
100. Willie o Winsbury.
P. 399 ff. MS. of Thomas Wilkie, p. 5, in “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 34. From Mrs Hislope, Gattonside. 1813.
1 The king calld on his merry men all, By one, by two, and by three; Lord Thomas should been the foremost man, But the hindmost man was he.
2 As he came tripping down the stairs, His stockings were of the silk, His face was like the morning sun, And his hand as white as milk.
3 ‘No wonder, no wonder, Lord Thomas,’ he said, ‘Then my daughter she loved thee; For, if I had been a woman as I am a man, Tom, I would hae loved thee.’
106. The Famous Flower of Serving-Men.
P. 429. The fragment printed by Scott was given him by the Ettrick Shepherd. It was printed with no important change except in the last stanza, all of which is the editor’s but the second line. The two lines of stanza 7 are scored through in the MS.
“Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 133 b, Abbotsford; in the handwriting of James Hogg.
1 My love he built me a bonny bowr, An cled it a’ wi lily-flowr; A brawer bowr ye neer did see Than my true-love he built to me.
2 There came a man by middle day, He spy’d his sport an went away, An brought the king that very night, Who brak my bowr, an slew my knight.
3 He slew my knight, to me sae dear; He slew my knight, an poind his gear; My servants all for life did flee, An left me in extremity.
4 I sewd his sheet, making my moan; I watchd the corpse, mysel alone; I watchd his body night and day; No living creature came that way.
5 I took the corpse then on my back, And whiles I gaed, and whiles I sat; I digd a grave, and laid him in, And hapd him wi the sod sae green.
6 But thinkna ye my heart was sair When I laid the mool on his yellow hair? O thinkna ye my heart was wae When I turnd about, away to gae?
7 Nae langer there I could remain Since that my lovely knight was slain; . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
110. The Knight and the Shepherd’s
Daughter.
P. 457 a, 476 f. #A. b# is printed in the Ballad Society’s ed. of the Roxburghe Ballads, III, 449. It is in the Crawford collection, No 1142. There are four copies in the Douce collection: I, 11 b, 14, 21 b, IV, 33, two of Charles II.’s time, two of no account (Chappell).
458 b. The Danish ballad is now No 314 of Danmarks gamle Folkeviser, continued by Axel Olrik, V, II, 377, ‘Ebbe Galt—Hr. Tidemand.’ There are four Danish versions, #A-D#, some of the sixteenth century; a Färöe version in five copies, ‘Ebbin kall,’ Føroyjakvæði, as elaborated by Grundtvig and Bloch, No 123, D. g. F., #E#; an Icelandic version, ‘Símonar kvæði,’ Íslenzk Fornkvæði, I, 224, No 26. Danish #C#, Vedel, III, No 17, is compounded of #B# and a lost version which must have resembled #A#. The copy in Danske Viser, Abrahamson, No 63, is recompounded from C and one of the varieties of #D#. Herr Tidemand is the offending knight in #A#, #C#; Ebbe Galt in #B#, #D# and the Färöe #E#; Kóng Símon in the Icelandic version. #A# has fifteen stanzas, #B# only eleven; the story is extended to sixty-seven in #D#. A begins directly with a complaint on the part of the injured husband before the King’s Bench; the husband in this version is of a higher class than in the others,—Herr Peder, and not a peasant. The forcing is done at the woman’s house in A and the Icelandic version; in #B-E# in a wood. In all, the ravisher is capitally punished.
Hr. Olrik is disposed to think ‘The Knight and the Shepherd’s Daughter’ a not very happy patching together of ‘Ebbe Galt,’ a lost ballad, and ‘Tærning-spillet,’ D. g. F., No 248, by a minstrel who may perhaps have had Chaucer’s story in mind. I am not prepared to go further than to admit that there is a gross inconsistency, even absurdity, in the English ballad; the shepherd’s daughter of the beginning could not possibly turn out a duke’s, an earl’s, or a king’s daughter in the conclusion.
‘Malfred og Sallemand,’ p. 458, note §, which has many verses in common with ‘Ebbe Galt,’ is now No 313 of Danmarks gamle Folkeviser, V, II, 367.
* * * * *
M
‘Earl Richmond,’ “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 81, Abbotsford; in the handwriting of James Skene of Rubislaw.
1 There was a shepherd’s daughter Kept hogs upo yon hill, By cam her a gentle knight, And he would hae his will.
2 Whan his will o her he had, [His will] as he had taen, ‘Kind sir, for yer courtesy, Will ye tell me yer name?’
3 ‘Some they ca me Jock,’ he says, ‘And some they ca me John; But whan ‘m in our king’s court Hitchcock is my name.’
4 The lady being well book-read, She spelt it oer again: ‘Hitchcock in our king’s court Is Earl Richard at hame.’
5 He pat his leg out-oer his steed And to the get he’s gane; She keltit up her green clothing, And fast, fast followed him.
6 ‘Turn back, turn back, ye carl’s daughter, And dinna follow me; It sets na carl’s daughters Kings’ courts for to see.’
7 ‘Perhaps I am a cerl’s daughter, Perhaps I am nane, But whan ye gat me in free forest Ye might ha latten’s alane.’
8 Whan they cam to yon wan water That a’ man does call Clyde, He looket oer his left shuder, Says, Fair may, will ye ride?
9 ‘I learnt it in my mother’s bowr, I wis I had learnt it better, Whan I cam to wan water To soom as does the otter.’
10 Or the knight was i the middle o the water, The lady she was oer; She took out a came o gold, To came down her yellow hair.
11 ‘Whar gat ye that, ye cerl’s daughter? I pray ye tell to me:’ ‘I got it fra my mither,’ she says, ‘To beguil sick chaps as thee.’
12 Whan they cam to our king’s court, He rade it round about, And he gade in at a shot-window, And left the lady without.
13 She gade to our king hersel, She fell low down upon her knee: ‘There is a knight into your court This day has robbed me.’
14 ‘Has he robbd ye o your goud? Or o yer well-won fee? Or o yer maidenhead, The flower o yer body?’
15 ‘He has na robbd me o my goud, For I ha nane to gee; But he has robbd me o my maidenhead, The flower o my body.’
16 ‘O wud ye ken the knight,’ he says, ‘If that ye did him see?’ ‘I wud him ken by his well-fared face And the blyth blink o his ee.’
17 ‘An he be a married man, High hanged sall he be, And an he be a free man, Well wedded to him ye’s be, Altho it be my brother Richie, And I wiss it be no he.’
18 The king called on his merry young men, By ane, by twa, by three; Earl Richmond had used to be the first, But the hindmost was he.
19 By that ye mith ha well kent That the guilty man was he; She took him by the milk-white hand, Says, This same ane is he.
20 There was a brand laid down to her, A brand but an a ring, Three times she minted to the brand, But she took up the ring; A’ that was in our king’s court Countet her a wise woman.
21 ‘I’ll gi ye five hundred pounds, To mak yer marriage we, An ye’l turn back, ye cerl’s daughter, And fash nae mere wi me.’
22 ‘Gae keep yer five hundred pounds To mak yer merriage we, For I’ll hae nathing but yersel The king he promised me.’
23 ‘I’ll gae ye one thousand pounds To mak yer marriage we, An ye’l turn back, ye cerl’s daughter, And fash nae mere wi me.’
24 ‘Gae keep yer one thousand pounds, To mak yer merriage we, For I’ll hae nathing but yersel The king he promised me.’
25 He took her down to yon garden, And clothed her in the green; Whan she cam up again, Sh[e] was fairer than the queen.
26 They gad on to Mary kirk, and on to Mary quire, The nettles they grew by the dyke: ‘O, an my mither wer her[e], So clean as she wud them pick!’
27 ‘I wiss I had druken water,’ he says, ‘Whan I drank the ale, That ony cerl’s daughter Sud tell me sick a tale.’
28 ‘Perhaps I am a cerl’s daughter, Perhaps I am nane; But whan ye gat me in free forest Ye might ha latten’s alane.
29 ‘Well mat this mill be, And well mat the gae! Mony a day they ha filled me pock O the white meal and the gray.’
30 ‘I wiss I had druken water,’ he says, ‘When I drank the ale, That ony cerl’s daughter Sud tell me sick a tale.’
31 ‘Perhaps I am a cerl’s daughter, Perhaps I am nane; But whan ye gat me in free forest Ye might ha latten’s alane.
32 ‘Tak awa yer siller spoons, Tak awa fra me, An gae me the gude horn spoons, It’s what I’m used tee.
33 ‘O an my mukle dish wer here, And sine we hit were fu, I wud sup file I am saerd, And sine lay down me head and sleep wi ony sow.’
34 ‘I wiss I had druken water,’ he says, ‘Whan I drank the ale, That any cerl’s daughter Sud tell me sick a tale.’
35 ‘Perhaps I am a cerl’s daughter, Perhaps I am nane, But whan ye gat me in free forest, Ye might ha latten’s alane.’
36 He took his hat in oer his face, The tear blindit his ee; She threw back her yellow locks, And a light laughter leugh she.
37 ‘Bot an ye be a beggar geet, As I trust well ye be, Whar gat ye their fine clothing Yer body was covered we?’
38 ‘My mother was an ill woman, And an ill woman was she; She gat them . . . . Fra sic chaps as thee.’
39 Whan bells were rung, and mess was sung, And aa man bound to bed, Earl Richard and the carl’s daughter In a chamer were laid.
40 ‘Lie yont, lie yont, ye carl’s daughter, Yer hot skin burns me; It sets na carl’s daughters In earls’ beds to be.’
41 ‘Perhaps I am a carl’s daughter, Perhaps I am nane; But whan ye gat me in free forest Ye might ha latten’s alane.’
42 Up it starts the Belly Blin, Just at their bed-feet.
43 ‘I think it is a meet marrige Atween the taen and the tither, The Earl of Hertford’s ae daughter And the Queen of England’s brither.’
44 ‘An this be the Earl of Hertford’s ae daughter, As I trust well it be, Mony a gude horse ha I ridden For the love o thee.’
1–34. Written as far as 36 in long lines, two to a stanza: there is no division of stanzas..
23, 24, 28, 30, 31, 34, 35, 41, are not fully written out.
29^2. Possibly mat she gae, but observe the plural in the next line.
112. The Baffled Knight.
P. 480 a. There is another variety of #D# in The Calleen Fuine, to which are added The Shepherd’s Boy, etc. Limerick, Printed by W. Goggin, corner of Bridge-Street. British Museum, 11621. e. 14 (16). Dated 1810? in the catalogue.
This begins:
There was a shepherd’s boy, He kept sheep upon a hill, And he went out upon a morning To see what he could kill. It’s blow away the morning dew, It’s blow, you winds, hi ho! You stole away my morning blush, And blow a little, blow.
481 a. ‘Lou Cabalier discret’ (‘Je vous passerai le bois’), Daymard, Vieux Chants p. rec. en Quercy, p. 126.
481 b, III, 518 a. Dans le bois elle s’est mise à pleurer: Revue des Traditions Populaires, IV, 514; ‘J’ai fini ma journée,’ Gothier, Recueil de Crâmignons, p. 5, ‘Youp ta deritou la la,’ Terry et Chaumont, Recueil d’Airs de Crâmignons, etc., p. 66, No 34; ‘Après ma journée faite,’ Meyrac, Traditions, etc., des Ardennes, pp. 277, 279.
Varieties: ‘Lou Pastour brégountsous (trop discret),’ Daymard, p. 124; ‘A la ronde, mesdames,’ Terry et Chaumont, p. 22, No 13; ‘La belle et l’ermite,’ ‘La jeune couturière,’ La Tradition, IV, 346, 348, Chansons populaires de la Picardie (half-popular).
482 a. A #Breton# song gives the essence of the story in seven couplets: Quellien, Chansons et Danses des Bretons, p. 156.
#Danish.# ‘Den dyre Kaabe,’ Kristensen, Jyske Folkeminder, X, 142, No 38.
482 b, third paragraph. The incident of the boots in Hazlitt, Jest-Books, II, 241 (Tarlton’s Jests, 1611, but printed before 1600).
113. The Great Silkie of Sule Skerry.
P. 494, III, 518. See David MacRitchie, The Finn-Men of Britain, in The Archæological Review, IV, 1–26, 107–129, 190 ff., and Alfred Nutt, p. 232.
A husband who is a man by day, but at night a seal: Curtin, Myths and Folk-Lore of Ireland, p. 51. (G. L. K.)
VOL. III.
114. Johnie Cock.
P. 1. There is a ballad of ‘Bertram, the Bauld Archer’ in Pitcairn’s MSS, III, 51; printed in Maidment’s Scotish Ballads and Songs, 1859, p. 46. Pitcairn derived it from Mrs McCorquodale, Stirling, a farmer’s wife, who remembered it “to have been sung by her grandmother, a woman above eighty years old, who stated that she had it from an old woman, her aunt.” The reciter herself was above sixty-five, and had “first heard it when a little girl.” Nevertheless, Bertram is fustian, of a sort all too familiar in the last century. The story, excepting perhaps the first stanza, is put into the mouth of Bertram’s mistress, à la Gilderoy. The bauld archer has gone to the forest for to mak a robberie. The king has made proclamation that he will give five hunder merk for Bertram’s life. John o Shoumacnair (Stronmaknair, Maidment) proposes to his billies to kill Bertram and get the money. They busk themselves in hodden gray, ‘like to friers o low degree,’ present themselves to Bertram and ask a boon of him, which Bertram grants without inquiry. While they are parleying, Shoumacnair drives his dirk into Bertram’s back. But, though he swirls wi the straik, Bertram draws his awsome bran, kills ane, wounds twa, and then his stalwart, gallant soul takes its flight to heaven.
2b. Braid. “This version [‘Johnie of Braidisbank,’ I] was taken down by Motherwell and me from the recitation of Mr James Knox, land-surveyor at Tipperlinne, near Edinburgh, in the month of May, 1824, when we met him in the good town of Paisley. At 17 a tradition is mentioned which assigns Braid to have been the scene of this woeful hunting. Mr Knox is the authority for this tradition. Braid is in the neighborhood of Tipperlinne.” Note by Mr P. A. Ramsay in a copy of the Minstrelsy which had belonged to Motherwell. (W. Macmath.)
Wolves in Scotland. “It is usually said that the species was extirpated about 1680 by Sir Ewen Cameron of Lochiel, but the tradition to that effect appears to be true only of Sir Ewen’s own district of western Invernessshire.” The very last wolf may have been killed in 1743. R. Chambers, Domestic Annals of Scotland, III, 690.