Part III. _Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, Volume 3 (of 3) Consisting of Historical and Romantic Ballads, Collected in the Southern Counties of Scotland; with a Few of Modern Date, Founded Upon Local Tradition

The Eve of St John 229

Lord Soulis 245

The Cout of Keeldar 284

Glenfinlas, or Lord Ronald's Coronach 303

The Mermaid 323

The Lord Herries his Complaint 348

The Murder of Caerlaveroc 355

Sir Agilthorn 368

Rich Auld Willie's Farewell 380

Water Kelpie 383

Ellandonan Castle 399

Cadyow Castle 410

The Gray Brother 432

War Song of the Royal Edinburgh Light Dragoons 446

The Feast of Spurs 452

On a Visit paid to the Ruins of Melrose Abbey

by the Countess of Dalkeith, and her Son, Lord

Scott. 457

Archie Armstrong's Aith 460

MINSTRELSY

OF THE

SCOTTISH BORDER.

PART SECOND--CONTINUED.

* * * * *

_ROMANTIC BALLADS._

FAUSE FOODRAGE.

* * * * *

King Easter has courted her for her lands,

King Wester for her fee;

King Honour for her comely face,

And for her fair bodie.

They had not been four months married,

As I have heard them tell,

Until the nobles of the land

Against them did rebel.

And they cast kevils[1] them amang,

And kevils them between;

And they cast kevils them amang,

Wha suld gae kill the king.

O some said yea, and some said nay,

Their words did not agree;

Till up and got him, Fause Foodrage,

And swore it suld be he.

When bells were rung, and mass was sung,

And a' men bound to bed,

King Honour and his gaye ladye

In a hie chamber were laid.

Then up and raise him, Fause Foodrage,

When a' were fast asleep,

And slew the porter in his lodge,

That watch and ward did keep.

O four and twenty silver keys

Hang hie upon a pin;

And aye, as ae door he did unlock,

He has fastened it him behind.

Then up and raise him, King Honour,

Says--"What means a' this din?

"Or what's the matter, Fause Foodrage,

"Or wha has loot you in?"

"O ye my errand weel sall learn,

"Before that I depart."

Then drew a knife, baith lang and sharp,

And pierced him to the heart.

Then up and got the queen hersell,

And fell low down on her knee:

"O spare my life, now, Fause Foodrage!

"For I never injured thee.

"O spare my life, now, Fause Foodrage,

"Until I lighter be!

"And see gin it be lad or lass,

"King Honour has left me wi'."

"O gin it be a lass," he says,

"Weel nursed it sall be;

"But gin it be a lad bairn,

"He sall be hanged hie.

"I winna spare for his tender age,

"Nor yet for his hie hie kin;

"But soon as e'er he born is,

"He sall mount the gallows pin."

O four and twenty valiant knights

Were set the queen to guard;

And four stood aye at her bour door,

To keep both watch and ward.

But when the time drew near an end,

That she suld lighter be,

She cast about to find a wile,

To set her body free.

O she has birled these merry young men

With the ale but and the wine,

Until they were as deadly drunk

As any wild wood swine.

"O narrow, narrow, is this window,

"And big, big, am I grown!"

Yet, through the might of Our Ladye,

Out at it she has gone.

She wandered up, she wandered down,

She wandered out and in;

And, at last, into the very swine's stythe,

The queen brought forth a son.

Then they cast kevils them amang,

Which suld gae seek the queen;

And the kevil fell upon Wise William,

And he sent his wife for him.

O when she saw Wise William's wife,

The queen fell on her knee;

"Win up, win up, madame!" she says:

"What needs this courtesie?"

"O out o' this I winna rise,

"Till a boon ye grant to me;

"To change your lass for this lad bairn,

"King Honour left me wi'.

"And ye maun learn my gay goss hawk

"Right weel to breast a steed;

"And I sall learn your turtle dow[2]

"As weel to write and read.

"And ye maun learn my gay goss hawk

"To wield baith bow and brand;

"And I sall learn your turtle dow

"To lay gowd[3] wi' her hand.

"At kirk and market when we meet,

"We'll dare make nae avowe,

"But--'Dame, how does my gay goss hawk?'

"Madame, how does my dow?"

When days were gane, and years came on,

Wise William he thought lang;

And he has ta'en King Honour's son

A hunting for to gang.

It sae fell out, at this hunting,

Upon a simmer's day,

That they came by a fair castell,

Stood on a sunny brae.

"O dinna ye see that bonny castell,

"Wi' halls and towers sae fair?

"Gin ilka man had back his ain,

"Of it ye suld be heir."

"How I suld be heir of that castell,

"In sooth I canna see;

"For it belangs to Fause Foodrage,

"And he is na kin to me."

"O gin ye suld kill him, Fause Foodrage,

"You would do but what was right;

"For I wot he kill'd your father dear,

"Or ever ye saw the light.

"And gin ye suld kill him, Fause Foodrage,

"There is no man durst you blame;

"For he keeps your mother a prisoner,

"And she darna take ye hame."

The boy stared wild like a gray goss hawk:

Says--"What may a' this mean?"

"My boy, ye are King Honour's son,

"And your mother's our lawful queen."

"O gin I be king Honour's son,

"By Our Ladye I swear,

"This night I will that traitor slay,

"And relieve my mother dear!"

He has set his bent bow to his breast,

And leaped the castell wa';

And soon he has seized on Fause Foodrage,

Wha loud for help 'gan ca'.

"O haud your tongue, now, Fause Foodrage!

"Frae me ye shanna flee."

Syne pierc'd him thro' the fause fause heart,

And set his mother free.

And he has rewarded Wise William

Wi' the best half of his land;

And sae has he the turtle dow,

Wi' the truth o' his right hand.

NOTES

FAUSE FOODRAGE.

* * * * *

_King Easter has courted her for her lands,_

_King Wester for her fee;_

_King Honour, &c._--P. 4. v. 1.

King Easter and King Wester were probably the petty princes of

Northumberland and Westmoreland. In the _Complaynt of Scotland_, an

ancient romance is mentioned, under the title, "_How the king of

Estmureland married the king's daughter of Westmureland_," which may

possibly be the original of the beautiful legend of _King Estmere_,

in the _Reliques of Ancient English Poetry_, Vol. I. p. 62 4th edit.

From this it may be conjectured, with some degree of plausibility,

that the independent kingdoms of the east and west coast were, at an

early period, thus denominated, according to the Saxon mode of naming

districts, from their relative positions; as Essex, Wessex, Sussex. But

the geography of the metrical romances sets all system at defiance;

and in some of these, as _Clariodus_ and _Meliades_, Estmureland

undoubtedly signifies the land of the Easterlings, or the Flemish

provinces at which vessels arrived in three days from England, and to

which they are represented as exporting wool.--_Vide Notes on the Tale

of Kempion._ On this subject I have, since publication of the first

edition, been favoured with the following remarks by Mr Ritson, in

opposition to the opinion above expressed:--

"Estmureland and Westmureland have no sort of relation to

Northumberland and Westmoreland. The former was never called

Eastmoreland, nor were there ever any kings of Westmoreland; unless we

admit the authority of an old rhyme, cited by Usher:--

"Here the king Westmer

"Slow the king Rothinger."

"There is, likewise, a 'king Estmere, of Spain,' in one of Percy's

ballads.

"In the old metrical romance of _Kyng Horn_, or _Horn Child_, we

find both Westnesse and Estnesse; and it is somewhat singular, that

two places, so called, actually exist in Yorkshire at this day. But

_ness_, in that quarter, is the name given to an inlet from a river.

There is, however, great confusion in this poem, as _Horn_ is called

king sometimes of one country, and sometimes of the other. In the

French original, Westir is said to have been the old name of Hirland,

or Ireland; which, occasionally at least, is called Westnesse, in the

translation, in which Britain is named Sudene; but here, again, it is

inconsistent and confused.

"It is, at any rate, highly probable, that the story, cited in the

_Complaynt of Scotland_, was a romance of _King Horn_, whether prose

or verse; and, consequently, that Estmureland and Westmureland should

there mean England and Ireland; though it is possible that no other

instance can be found of those two names occurring with the same sense."

_And they cast kevils them amang._--P. 4. v. 3.

_Kevils_--Lots. Both words originally meant only a portion, or share,

of any thing.--_Leges Burgorum_, cap. 59, _de lot, cut, or kavil_.

_Statuta Gildæ_, cap. 20. _Nullus emat lanam, &c. nisi fuerit confrater

Gildæ, &c._ _Neque_ lot _neque_ cavil _habeat cum aliquo confratre

nostro._ In both these laws, _lot_ and _cavil_ signify a share in trade.

_Dame, how does my gay goss hawk?_--P. 9. v. 1.

This metaphorical language was customary among the northern nations.

In 925, king Adelstein sent an embassy to Harald Harfagar, king of

Norway, the chief of which presented that prince with an elegant

sword, ornamented with precious stones. As it was presented by the

point, the Norwegian chief, in receiving it, unwarily laid hold of

the hilt. The English ambassador declared, in the name of his master,

that he accepted the act as a deed of homage; for, touching the hilt

of a warrior's sword was regarded as an acknowledgement of subjection.

The Norwegian prince, resolving to circumvent his rival by a similar

artifice, suppressed his resentment, and sent, next summer, an embassy

to Adelstein, the chief of which presented Haco, the son of Harald, to

the English prince; and, placing him on his knees, made the following

declaration:--"_Haraldus, Normannorum rex, amice te salutat;_ albamque

_hunc avem, bene institutam mittit, utque melius deinceps erudias,

postulat._" The king received young Haco on his knees; which the

Norwegian ambassador immediately accepted, in the name of his master,

as a declaration of inferiority; according to the proverb, "_Is minor

semper habetur, qui alterius filium educat._"--Pontoppidani Vestigia

Danor. Vol. II. p. 67.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] _Kevils_--Lots.

[2] _Dow_--Dove.

[3] _Lay gowd_--To embroider in gold.

KEMPION.

NEVER BEFORE PUBLISHED

* * * * *

The tale of _Kempion_ seems, from the names of the personages, and the

nature of the adventure, to have been an old metrical romance, degraded

into a ballad, by the lapse of time, and the corruption of reciters.

The change in the structure of the last verses, from the common ballad

stanza, to that which is proper to the metrical romance, adds force to

this conjecture.

Such transformations, as the song narrates, are common in the annals

of chivalry. In the 25th and 26th cantos of the second book of the

_Orlando Inamorato_, the paladin, _Brandimarte_, after surmounting

many obstacles, penetrates into the recesses of an enchanted palace.

Here he finds a fair damsel, seated upon a tomb, who announces to

him, that, in order to achieve her deliverance, he must raise the

lid of the sepulchre, and kiss whatever being should issue forth.

The knight, having pledged his faith, proceeds to open the tomb, out

of which a monstrous snake issues forth, with a tremendous hiss.

_Brandimarte_, with much reluctance, fulfils the _bizarre_ conditions

of the adventure; and the monster is instantly changed into a beautiful

Fairy, who loads her deliverer with benefits. For the satisfaction of

those, who may wish to compare the tale of the Italian poet with that

of _Kempion_, a part of the original of Boiardo is given below.[4]

There is a ballad, somewhat resembling _Kempion_, called the _Laidley

Worm of Spindleston-heuch_, which is very popular upon the borders;

but, having been often published, it was thought unnecessary to insert

it in this collection. The most common version was either entirely

composed, or re-written, by the Reverend Mr Lamb, of Norham.

A similar tradition is, by Heywood and Delrio, said to have existed

at Basil. A tailor, in an adventurous mood, chose to descend into an

obscure cavern, in the vicinity of the city. After many windings, he

came to an iron door, through which he passed into a splendid chamber.

Here he found, seated upon a stately throne, a lady, whose countenance

was surprisingly beautiful, but whose shape terminated in a dragon's

train, which wrapped around the chair on which she was placed. Before

her stood a brazen chest, trebly barred and bolted; at each end of

which lay couched a huge black ban-dog, who rose up, as if to tear

the intruder in pieces. But the lady appeased them; and, opening the

chest, displayed an immense treasure, out of which she bestowed upon

the visitor some small pieces of money, informing him, that she was

enchanted by her step-dame, but should recover her natural shape, on

being kissed thrice by a mortal. The tailor assayed to fulfil the

conditions of the adventure; but her face assumed such an altered,

wild, and grim expression, that his courage failed, and he was fain to

fly from the place. A kinsman of his, some years after, penetrated into

the cavern, with the purpose of repairing a desperate fortune. But,

finding nothing but dead men's bones, he ran mad, and died. Sir John

Mandeville tells a similar story of a Grecian island.

There are numerous traditions, upon the borders, concerning huge

and destructive snakes, and also of a poisonous reptile called a

_man-keeper_; although the common adder, and blind worm, are the only

reptiles of that _genus_ now known to haunt our wilds. Whether it be

possible, that, at an early period, before the country was drained,

and cleared of wood, serpents of a larger size may have existed, is

a question which the editor leaves to the naturalist. But, not to

mention the fabulous dragon, slain in Northumberland by _Sir Bevis_,

the fame still survives of many a _preux chevalier_, supposed to have

distinguished himself by similar atchievements.

The manor of Sockburne, in the bishopric of Durham, anciently the

seat of the family of Conyers, or Cogniers, is held of the bishop by

the service of presenting, or showing to him, upon his first entrance

into his diocese, an antique sword, or faulchion. The origin of this

peculiar service is thus stated in Beckwith's edition of _Blount's

Ancient Tenures_, p. 200.

"Sir Edward Blackett (the proprietor of the manor) now represents the

person of Sir John Conyers, who, as tradition says, in the fields of

Sockburne, slew, with this faulchion, a monstrous creature, a dragon,

a worm, or flying serpent, that devoured men, women, and children. The

then owner of Sockburne, as a reward for his bravery, gave him the

manor, with its appurtenances, to hold for ever, on condition that he

meets the lord bishop of Durham, with this faulchion, on his first

entrance into his diocese, after his election to that see.

"And, in confirmation of this tradition, there is painted, in a window

of Sockburne church, the faulchion we just now spoke of: and it is also

cut in marble, upon the tomb of the great ancestor of the Conyers',

together with a dog, and the monstrous worm, or serpent, lying at his

feet, of his own killing, of which the history of the family gives the

above account.

"When the bishop first comes into his diocese, he crosses the river

Tees, either at the ford at Nesham, or Croft-bridge, where the counties

of York and Durham divide; at one of which places Sir Edward Blackett,

either in person, or by his representative, if the bishop comes by

Nesham, rides into the middle of the river Tees, with the ancient

faulchion drawn in his hand, or upon the middle of Croft-bridge; and

then presents the faulchion to the bishop, addressing him in the

ancient form of words; upon which the bishop takes the faulchion into

his hand, looks at it, and returns it back again, wishing the lord of

the manor his health, and the enjoyment of his estate." The faulchion,

above alluded to, has upon its hilt the arms of England, in the reign

of King John, and an eagle, supposed to be the ensign of Morcar, earl

of Northumberland.--GOUGH'S _Camden's Britannia_, Vol. III. p. 114. Mr

Gough, with great appearance of probability, conjectures, the dragon,

engraved on the tomb, to be an emblematical, or heraldric ornament.

The property, called Pollard's Lands, near Bishop Auckland, is held

by a similar tenure; and we are informed, in the work just quoted,

that "Dr Johnson of Newcastle met the present bishop, Dr Egerton, in

September, 1771, at his first arrival there, and presented a faulchion

upon his knee, and addressed him in the old form of words, saying,

"_My lord, in behalf of myself, as well as of the several other

tenants of Pollard's Lands, I do humbly present your lordship with

this faulchion, at your first coming here, wherewith, as the tradition

goeth, Pollard slew of old a great and venomous serpent, which did much

harm to man and beast: and, by the performance of this service, these

lands are holden._"--Ancient Tenures, p. 201.

Above the south entrance of the ancient parish church of Linton, in

Roxburghshire, is a rude piece of sculpture, representing a knight,

with a falcon on his arm, encountering with his lance, in full

career, a sort of monster, which the common people call a _worm_, or

snake. Tradition bears, that this animal inhabited a den, or hollow,

at some distance from the church, whence it was wont to issue forth,

and ravage the country, or, by the fascination of its eyes and breath,

draw its prey into its jaws. Large rewards were in vain offered for

the destruction of this monster, which had grown to so huge a bulk,

that it used to twist itself, in spiral folds, round a green hillock

of considerable height, still called Wormeston, and marked by a clump

of trees. When sleeping in this place, with its mouth open, popular

credulity affirms, that it was slain by the laird of Lariston, a man,

brave even to madness, who, coming upon the snake at full gallop,

thrust down its throat a _peat_ (a piece of turf dried for fuel), dipt

in scalding pitch, and fixed to the point of his lance. The aromatic

quality of the peat is said to have preserved the champion from the

effects of the monster's poisonous breath, while, at the same time,

it clogged its jaws. In dying, the serpent contracted his folds with

so much violence, that their spiral impression is still discernible

round the hillock where it lay. The noble family of Somerville are

said to be descended from this adventurous knight, in memory of whose

atchievement, they bear a dragon as their crest.

The sculpture itself gives no countenance to this fine story; for

the animal, whom the knight appears to be in the act of slaying, has

no resemblance to a serpent, but rather to a wolf, or boar, with

which the neighbouring Cheviot mountains must in early times have

abounded;[6] and there remain vestiges of another monster, of the same

species, attacking the horse of the champion. An inscription, which

might have thrown light upon this exploit, is now totally defaced. The

vulgar, adapting it to their own tradition, tell us that it ran thus:

The wode laird of Lariestoun

Slew the wode worm of Wormiestoune,

And wan all Linton paroschine.

It is most probable, that the animal, destroyed by the ancestor of Lord

Somerville, was one of those beasts of prey, by which Caledonia was

formerly infested; but which, now,

Razed out of all her woods, as trophies hung,

Grin high emblazon'd on her children's shields.

Since publishing the first edition of this work, I have found the

following account of Somerville's atchievement, in a MS. of some

antiquity:

"John Somerville (son to Roger de Somerville, baron of Whichenever,

in Staffordshire) was made, by King William (the Lion), his principal

falconer, and got from that king the lands and baronie of Linton, in

Tiviotdale, for an extraordinarie and valiant action; which, according

to the manuscript of the family of Drum, was thus: In the parochen of

Lintoun, within the sheriffdom of Roxburgh, there happened to breed a

monster, in form of a serpent, or worme; in length, three Scots yards,

and somewhat bigger than an ordinarie man's leg, with a head more

proportionable to its length than greatness. It had its den in a hollow

piece of ground, a mile south-east from Lintoun church; it destroyed

both men and beast that came in its way. Several attempts were made to

destroy it, by shooting of arrows, and throwing of darts, none daring

to approach so near as to make use of a sword or lance. John Somerville

undertakes to kill it, and being well mounted, and attended with a

stout servant, he cam, before the sun-rising, before the dragon's den,

having prepared some long, small, and hard peats (bog-turf dried for

fuel), be-dabbed with pitch, rosette, and brimstone, fixed with small

wire upon a wheel, at the point of his lance: these, being touched

with fire, would instantly break out into flames; and, there being

a breath of air, that served to his purpose, about the sun-rising,

the serpent, dragon, or worme, so called by tradition, appeared with

her head, and some part of her body, without the den; whereupon his

servant set fire to the peats upon the wheel, at the top of the lance,

and John Somerville, advancing with a full gallop, thrust the same with

the wheel, and a great part of the lance, directly into the serpent's

mouthe, which wente down its throat, into the belly, and was left

there, the lance breaking by the rebounding of the horse, and giving a

deadly wound to the dragoun; for which action he was knighted by King

William; and his effigies was cut in ston in the posture he performed

this actione, and placed above the principal church door of Lintoun,

where it is yet to be seen, with his name and sirname: and the place,

where this monster was killed, is at this day called, by the common

people, who have the foresaid story by tradition, the Wormes Glen. And

further to perpetuate this actione, the barons of Lintoun, Cowthally,

and Drum, did always carry for crest, a wheel, and thereon a dragoun."

Extracted from a genealogical MS. in the Advocates' Library, written

about 1680. The falcon on the champion's arm, in the monument, may be

supposed to allude to his office of falconer to William of Scotland.

The ballad of _Kempion_ is given chiefly from Mrs Brown's MS., with

corrections from a recited fragment.

KEMPION.

* * * * *

"Cum heir, cum heir, ye freely feed,

"And lay your head low on my knee;

"The heaviest weird I will you read,

"That ever was read to gaye ladye.

"O meikle dolour sall ye dree,

"And aye the salt seas o'er ye'se swim;

"And far mair dolour sall ye dree

"On Estmere crags, when ye them climb.

"I weird ye to a fiery beast,

"And relieved sall ye never be,

"Till Kempion, the kingis son,

"Cum to the crag, and thrice kiss thee."

O meikle dolour did she dree,

And aye the salt seas o'er she swam;

And far mair dolour did she dree

On Estmere crags, e'er she them clamb.

And aye she cried for Kempion,

Gin he would but cum to her hand:

Now word has gane to Kempion,

That sicken a beast was in his land.

"Now, by my sooth," said Kempion,

"This fiery beast I'll gang and see."

"And, by my sooth," said Segramour,

"My ae brother, I'll gang wi' thee."

Then bigged hae they a bonny boat,

And they hae set her to the sea;

But a mile before they reached the shore,

Around them she gar'd the red fire flee.

"O Segramour, keep the boat afloat,

"And lat her na the land o'er near;

"For this wicked beast will sure gae mad,

"And set fire to a' the land and mair."

Syne has he bent an arblast bow,

And aim'd an arrow at her head;

And swore if she didna quit the land,

Wi' that same shaft to shoot her dead.

"O out of my stythe I winna rise,

"(And it is not for the awe o' thee)

"Till Kempion, the kingis son,

"Cum to the crag, and thrice kiss me."

He has louted him o'er the dizzy crag,

And gien the monster kisses ane:

Awa she gaed, and again she cam,

The fieryest beast that ever was seen.

"O out o' my stythe I winna rise,

"(And not for a' thy bow nor thee)

"Till Kempion, the kingis son,

"Cum to the crag, and thrice kiss me."

He's louted him o'er the Estmere crags,

And he has gien her kisses twa:

Awa she gaed, and again she cam,

The fieryest beast that ever you saw.

"O out of my den I winna rise,

"Nor flee it for the fear o' thee,

"Till Kempion, that courteous knight,

"Cum to the crag, and thrice kiss me."

He's louted him o'er the lofty crag,

And he has gien her kisses three:

Awa she gaed, and again she cam,

The loveliest ladye e'er could be!

"And by my sooth," says Kempion,

"My ain true love (for this is she)

"They surely had a heart o' stane,

"Could put thee to such misery.

"O was it warwolf in the wood?

"Or was it mermaid in the sea?

"Or was it man, or vile woman,

"My ain true love, that mishaped thee?"

"It was na warwolf in the wood,

"Nor was it mermaid in the sea;

"But it was my wicked step-mother,

"And wae and weary may she be!"

"O a heavier weird[7] shall light her on,

"Than ever fell on vile woman;

"Her hair shall grow rough, and her teeth grow lang,

"And on her four feet shall she gang.

"None shall take pity her upon;

"In Wormeswood she aye shall won;

"And relieved shall she never be,

"Till St Mungo[8] come over the sea."

And sighing said that weary wight,

"I doubt that day I'll never see!"

NOTES

KEMPION.

* * * * *

_On Estmere crags, when ye them climb._--P. 26. v. 2.

If by Estmere crags we are to understand the rocky cliffs of

Northumberland, in opposition to Westmoreland, we may bring our scene

of action near Bamborough, and thereby almost identify the tale of

_Kempion_ with that of the _Laidley Worm of Spindleston_, to which it

bears so strong a resemblance.

_I weird ye to a fiery beast._--P. 26. v. 3.

Our ideas of dragons and serpents are probably derived from the

Scandinavians. The legends of _Regnar Lodbrog_, and of the huge snake

in the Edda, by whose folds the world is encircled, are well known.

Griffins and dragons were fabled, by the Danes, as watching over, and

defending, hoards of gold.--_Bartholin. de caus. cont. mortis_, p. 490.

_Saxo Grammaticus_, lib. 2. The Edda also mentions one Fafner, who,

transformed into a serpent, brooded over his hidden treasures. From

these authorities, and that of Herodotus, our Milton draws his simile--

As when a Gryphon, through the wilderness,

With winged course, o'er hill or moory dale,

Pursues the Arimaspian, who, by stealth,

Had from his wakeful custody purloin'd

The guarded gold.

_O was it warwolf in the wood?_--P. 29. v. 4.

Warwolf, or Lycanthropus, signifies a magician, possessing the power

of transforming himself into a wolf, for the purpose of ravage and

devastation. It is probable the word was first used symbolically, to

distinguish those, who, by means of intoxicating herbs, could work

their passions into a frantic state, and throw themselves upon their

enemies with the fury and temerity of ravenous wolves. Such were

the noted _Berserker_ of the Scandinavians, who, in their fits of

voluntary frenzy, were wont to perform the most astonishing exploits

of strength, and to perpetrate the most horrible excesses, although,

in their natural state, they neither were capable of greater crimes

nor exertions than ordinary men. This quality they ascribed to Odin.

"_Odinus efficere valuit, ut hostes ipsius inter bellandum cæci vel

surdi vel attoniti fierent, armaque illorum instar baculorum obtusa

essent. Sui vero milites sine loricis incedebant, ac instar_ canum vel

luporum furebant, _scuta sua arrodentes: et robusti ut ursi vel tauri,

adversarios trucidabant: ipsis vero neque ignis neque ferrum nocuit.

Ea qualitas vocatur furor Berserkicus."--Snorro Sturleson,_ quoted by

_Bartholin. de causis contemptæ mortis_, p. 344. For a fuller account

of these frantic champions, see the _Hervorar Saga_ published by Suhm;

also the _Christni Saga_, and most of the ancient Norwegian histories

and romances. Camden explains the tales of the Irish, concerning men

transformed into wolves, upon nearly the same principle.--GOUGH'S

_edition of Camden's Britannia_, Vol. III. p. 520.

But, in process of time, the transformation into a wolf was believed

to be real, and to affect the body as well as the mind; and to such

transformations our faithful Gervase of Tilbury bears evidence, as an

eye-witness. "_Vidimus frequenter in Anglia per lunationes homines

in lupos mutari, quod hominum genus Gerulfos Galli vocunt, Angli

vero_ WER-WLF _dicunt._ WER _enim Anglice virum sonat,_ WLF _lupum."

Ot. Imp. De oculis apertis post peccatum._ The learned commentators,

upon the art of sorcery, differ widely concerning the manner in

which the arch fiend effects this change upon the persons of his

vassals; whether by surrounding their bodies with a sort of pellice

of condensed air, having the form of an wolf; or whether by some

delusion, affecting the eyes of the spectators; or, finally, by an

actual corporeal transformation. The curious reader may consult _Delrii

Disquisitiones Magicæ_, p. 188; and (if he pleases) Evvichius _de

natura Sagarum_.--Fincelius, _lib. 2. de Mirac._--Remigius. _lib. 2.

de Dæmonolat._--Binsfeld. _de confession, maleficarum_. Not to mention

Spondanus, Bodinus, Peucerus, Philippus Camerarius, Condronchus, Petrus

Thyræus, Bartholomeus Spineus, Sir George Mackenzie, and King James I.,

with the sapient Monsieur Oufle of Bayle. The editor presumes, it is

only since the extirpation of wolves, that our British sorceresses have

adopted the disguise of hares, cats, and such more familiar animals.

A wild story of a warwolf, or rather a war-bear, is told in Torfoeus'

History of Hrolfe Kraka. As the original is a scarce book, little known

in this country, some readers may be interested by a short analysis of

the tale.

Hringo, king of Upland, had an only son, called Biorno, the most

beautiful and most gallant of the Norwegian youth. At an advanced

period of life, the king became enamoured of a "_witch lady_," whom

he chose for his second wife. A mutual and tender affection had, from

infancy, subsisted betwixt Biorno, and Bera, the lovely daughter of an

ancient warrior. But the new queen cast upon her step-son an eye of

incestuous passion; to gratify which, she prevailed upon her husband,

when he set out upon one of those piratical expeditions, which formed

the summer campaign of a Scandinavian monarch, to leave the prince at

home. In the absence of Hringo, she communicated to Biorno her impure

affection, and was repulsed with disdain and violence. The rage of the

weird step-mother was boundless. "Hence to the woods!" she exclaimed,

striking the prince with a glove of wolf-skin; "Hence to the woods!

subsist only on thy father's herds; live pursuing, and die pursued!"

From this time the prince Biorno was no more seen, and the herdsmen

of the king's cattle soon observed, that astonishing devastation was

nightly made among their flocks, by a black bear, of immense size,

and unusual ferocity. Every attempt to snare or destroy this animal

was found vain; and much was the unavailing regret for the absence of

Biorno, whose delight had been in extirpating beasts of prey. Bera,

the faithful mistress of the young prince, added her tears to the

sorrow of the people. As she was indulging her melancholy, apart from

society, she was alarmed by the approach of the monstrous bear, which

was the dread of the whole country. Unable to escape, she waited its

approach, in expectation of instant death; when, to her astonishment,

the animal fawned upon her, rolled himself at her feet, and regarded

her with eyes, in which, spite of the horrible transformation, she

still recognized the glances of her lost lover. Bera had the courage

to follow the bear to his cavern, where, during certain hours, the

spell permitted him to resume his human shape. Her love overcame her

repugnance at so strange a mode of life, and she continued to inhabit

the cavern of Biorno, enjoying his society during the periods of

his freedom from enchantment. One day, looking sadly upon his wife,

"Bera," said the prince, "the end of my life approaches. My flesh

will soon serve for the repast of my father and his courtiers. But,

do thou beware lest either the threats or entreaties of my diabolical

step-mother induce thee to partake of the horrid banquet. So shalt

thou safely bring forth three sons, who shall be the wonder of the

North." The spell now operated, and the unfortunate prince sallied

from his cavern to prowl among the herds. Bera followed him, weeping,

and at a distance. The clamour of the chace was now heard. It was the

old king, who, returned from his piratical excursion, had collected a

strong force to destroy the devouring animal which ravaged his country.

The poor bear defended himself gallantly, slaying many dogs, and some

huntsmen. At length, wearied out, he sought protection at the feet of

his father. But his supplicating gestures were in vain, and the eyes

of paternal affection proved more dull than those of love. Biorno died

by the lance of his father, and his flesh was prepared for the royal

banquet. Bera was recognised, and hurried into the queen's presence.

The sorceress, as Biorno had predicted, endeavoured to prevail upon

Bera to eat of what was then esteemed a regal dainty. Entreaties and

threats being in vain, force was, by the queen's command, employed

for this purpose, and Bera was compelled to swallow one morsel of

the bear's flesh. A second was put into her mouth, but she had an

opportunity of putting it aside. She was then dismissed to her father's

house. Here, in process of time, she was delivered of three sons, two

of whom were affected variously, in person and disposition, by the

share their mother had been compelled to take in the feast of the

king. The eldest, from his middle downwards, resembled an elk, whence

he derived the name of Elgfrod. He proved a man of uncommon strength,

but of savage manners, and adopted the profession of a robber. Thorer,

the second son of Bera, was handsome and well shaped, saving that

he had the foot of a dog; from which he obtained the appellation of

Houndsfoot. But Bodvar, the third son, was a model of perfection in

mind and body. He revenged upon the necromantic queen the death of his

father, and became the most celebrated champion of his age.

_Historia Hrolfi Krakæ, Haffniæ, 1715._

FOOTNOTES:

[4]

Poich' ebbe il verso Brandimarte letto,

La lapida pesante in aria alzava:

Ecco fuor una serpe insin' al petto,

La qual, forte stridendo, zufolava,

Di spaventoso, e terribil' aspetto,

A prendo il muso gran denti mostrava,

De' quali il cavalier non si fidando,

Si trasse a dietro, et mise mano al brando.

Ma quella Donna gridava "non fate"

Col viso smorto, e grido tremebondo,

"Non far, che ci farai pericolare,

E cadrem' tutti quanti nel profondo:

A te convien quella serpe baciare,

O far pensier di non esser' al Mondo,

Accostar la tua bocca con la sua,

O perduta tener la vita tua."

"Come? non vedi, che i denti degrigna,

Che pajon fatti a posta a spiccar' nasi,

E fammi un certo viso de matrigna,"

Disse il Guerrier, "ch'io me spavento quassi."

"Anzi t' invita con faccia benigna;"

Disse la Donna, "e molti altri rimasi

Per vilta sono a questa sepolture:

Or la t' accosta, e non aver paura."

Il cavalier s' accosta, ma di passo,

Che troppo grato quel baciar non gli era,

Verso la serpe chinandosi basso,

Gli parvo tanto orrenda, e tanto fera,

Che venne in viso freddo, com' un sasso;

E disse "si fortuna vuol' ch'io pera,

Fia tanto un altra volta, quanto addeso

Ma cagion dar non me ne voglio io stesso."

"Fuss' io certo d'andare in paradiso,

Come son' certo, chinandomi un poco,

Che quella bestia mi s'avvento al viso,

E mi piglia nel naso, o altro loco:

Egli e proprio cosi, com' io m'avviso,

Ch' altri ch'io stato e colto a questo gioco,

E che costei mi da questo conforto

Per vindicarsi di colui, ch'ho morto."[5]

Cosi dicendo, a rinculare attende,

Deliberato piu non s'accostare:

La Donna si dispera, e lo reprende,

"Ah codardo," dicea, "che credi fare?

Perche tanta vilta, l'alma t'offende,

Che ti fara alla fin mal capitare?

Infinita paura e poca fede,

La salute gli mostro, e non mi crede."

Punto il Guerrier de questi agre parole,

Torna de nuovo ver la sepoltura,

Tinsegli in rose il color de viole,

In vergogna mutata la paura:

Pur stando ancor' fra due, vuole, e non vuole,

Un pensier lo spaventa, un l'assicura

Al fin tra l'animoso, e'l disperato,

A lei s'accosta, ed halle un bacio dato.

Un ghiaccio proprio gli parse a toccare

La bocca, che parea prima di foco:

La serpe se commincia a tramutare

E diventa donzella a poco a poco:

Febosilla costei si fa chiamare,

Un fata, che fece quel bel loco,

E quel giardino, e quella sepoltura,

Ove gran tempo e stato in pena dura, &c.

[5] _Un cavalier occiso per Brandimarte nel entrare del palazzo

incantato._

[6] An altar, dedicated to Sylvan Mars, was found in a glen in

Weardale, in the bishopric of Durham. From the following votive

inscription, it appears to have been erected by C. T. V. Micianus,

a Roman general, upon taking an immense boar, which none of his

predecessors could destroy:

"_Silvano invicto sacrum. C. Tetius Veturius Micianus Præf.

Alae Sebosinae ob aprum eximiæ formæ captum, quem multi

antecessores ejus prædari non potuerunt, Votum solvens lubenter

possuit._"

LAMB'S Notes on Battle of Flodden, 1774, p. 67.

[7] _Weird_--From the German auxiliary verb _werden_, "to become."

[8] _St Mungo_--Saint Kentigern.

LORD THOMAS AND FAIR ANNIE.

NOW

FIRST PUBLISHED IN A PERFECT STATE.

* * * * *

This ballad is now, for the first time, published in a perfect state. A

fragment, comprehending the 2d, 4th, 5th, and 6th verses, as also the

17th, has appeared in several collections. The present copy is chiefly

taken from the recitation of an old woman, residing near Kirkhill, in

West Lothian; the same from whom were obtained the variations in the

tale of _Tamlane_, and the fragment of the _Wife of Usher's Well_,

which is the next in order.

The tale is much the same with the Breton romance, called _Lay le

Frain_, or the _Song of the Ash_. Indeed, the editor is convinced,

that the farther our researches are extended, the more we shall see

ground to believe, that the romantic ballads of later times are, for

the most part, abridgments of the ancient metrical romances, narrated

in a smoother stanza, and more modern language. A copy of the ancient

romance, alluded to, is preserved in the invaluable collection (W. 4.

1.) of the Advocates' Library, and begins thus:

We redeth oft and findeth ywrite

And this clerkes wele it wite

Layes that ben in harping

Ben yfound of ferli thing

Sum beth of wer and sum of wo

Sum of joye and mirthe also

And sum of trecherie and of gile

Of old aventours that fel while

And sum of bourdes and ribaudy

And many ther beth of faery

Of al thinges that men seth

Maist o' love forsoth yai beth

In Breteyne bi hold time

This layes were wrought so seithe this rime

When kinges might our y here

Of ani mervailes that ther wer

They token a harp in glee and game

And maked a lay and gaf it name

Now of this aventours that weren y falle

Y can tel sum ac nought alle

Ac herkeneth Lordinges sothe to sain

I chil you tel _Lay le Frain_

Bifel a cas in Breteyne

Whereof was made Lay le Frain

In Ingliche for to tellen y wis

Of ane asche forsothe it is

On ane ensammple fair with alle

That sum time was bi falle &c.

LORD THOMAS AND FAIR ANNIE.

* * * * *

"Its narrow, narrow, make your bed,

"And learn to lie your lane;

"For I'm ga'n o'er the sea, Fair Annie,

"A braw bride to bring hame.

"Wi' her I will get gowd and gear;

"Wi' you I ne'er got nane.

"But wha will bake my bridal bread,

"Or brew my bridal ale?

"And wha will welcome my brisk bride,

"That I bring o'er the dale?"

"Its I will bake your bridal bread,

"And brew your bridal ale;

"And I will welcome your brisk bride,

"That you bring o'er the dale."

"But she that welcomes my brisk bride,

"Maun gang like maiden fair;

"She maun lace on her robe sae jimp,

"And braid her yellow hair."

"But how can I gang maiden-like,

"When maiden I am nane?

"Have I not borne seven sons to thee,

"And am with child again?"

She's ta'en her young son in her arms,

Another in her hand;

And she's up to the highest tower,

To see him come to land.

"Come up, come up, my eldest son,

"And look o'er yon sea-strand,

"And see your father's new-come bride,

"Before she come to land."

"Come down, come down, my mother dear!

"Come frae the castle-wa'!

"I fear, if langer ye stand there,

"Ye'll let yoursell down fa'."

And she gaed down, and farther down,

Her love's ship for to see;

And the top-mast and the main-mast

Shone like the silver free.

And she's gane down, and farther down,

The bride's ship to behold;

And the top-mast and the main-mast

They shone just like the gold.

She's ta'en her seven sons in her hand;

I wot she didna fail!

She met Lord Thomas and his bride,

As they cam o'er the dale.

"You're welcome to your house, Lord Thomas;

"You're welcome to your land;

"You're welcome, with your fair ladye,

"That you lead by the hand.

"You're welcome to your ha's, ladye;

"You're welcome to your bowers;

"You're welcome to your hame, ladye:

"For a' that's here is yours."

"I thank thee, Annie; I thank thee, Annie;

"Sae dearly as I thank thee;

"You're the likest to my sister, Annie,

"That ever I did see.

"There came a knight out o'er the sea,

"And steal'd my sister away;

"The shame scoup[9] in his company,

"And land where'er he gae!"

She hang ae napkin at the door,

Another in the ha';

And a' to wipe the trickling tears,

Sae fast as they did fa'.

And aye she served the lang tables,

With white bread and with wine;

And aye she drank the wan water,

To had her colour fine.[10]

And aye she served the lang tables,

With white bread and with brown;

And aye she turned her round about,

Sae fast the tears fall down.

And he's ta'en down the silk napkin,

Hung on a silver pin;

And aye he wipes the tear trickling

Adown her cheik and chin.

And aye he turned him round about,

And smil'd amang his men:

Says--"Like ye best the old ladye,

"Or her that's new come hame?"

When bells were rung, and mass was sung,

And a' men bound to bed,

Lord Thomas and his new-come bride,

To their chamber they were gaed.

Annie made her bed a little forebye,

To hear what they might say;

"And ever alas!" fair Annie cried,

"That I should see this day!

"Gin my seven sons were seven young rats,

"Running on the castle-wa',

"And I were a grey cat mysell!

"I soon would worry them a'.

"Gin my seven sons were seven young hares,

"Running o'er yon lilly lee,

"And I were a grew hound mysell!

"Soon worried they a' should be."

And wae and sad fair Annie sat,

And drearie was her sang;

And ever, as she sobb'd and grat,

"Wae to the man that did the wrang!"

"My gown is on," said the new-come bride,

"My shoes are on my feet,

"And I will to fair Annie's chamber,

"And see what gars her greet.

"What ails ye, what ails ye, Fair Annie,

"That ye make sic a moan?

"Has your wine barrels cast the girds,

"Or is your white bread gone?

"O wha was't was your father, Annie,

"Or wha was't was your mother?

"And had ye ony sister, Annie,

"Or had ye ony brother?"

"The Earl of Wemyss was my father,

"The Countess of Wemyss my mother;

"And a' the folk about the house,

"To me were sister and brother."

"If the Earl of Wemyss was your father,

"I wot sae was he mine;

"And it shall not be for lack o' gowd,

"That ye your love sall tyne.

"For I have seven ships o' mine ain,

"A' loaded to the brim;

"And I will gie them a' to thee,

"Wi' four to thine eldest son.

"But thanks to a' the powers in heaven,

"That I gae maiden hame!"

FOOTNOTES:

[9] _Scoup_--Go, or rather fly.

[10] To keep her from changing countenance.

THE WIFE OF USHER'S WELL.

A FRAGMENT.

NEVER BEFORE PUBLISHED.

* * * * *

There lived a wife at Usher's Well,

And a wealthy wife was she;

She had three stout and stalwart sons,

And sent them o'er the sea.

They hadna been a week from her,

A week but barely ane,

Whan word came to the carline wife,

That her three sons were gane.

They hadna been a week from her,

A week but barely three,

Whan word came to the carline wife,

That her sons she'd never see.

"I wish the wind may never cease,

"Nor fishes in the flood,

"Till my three sons come hame to me,

"In earthly flesh and blood!"

It fell about the Martinmass,

Whan nights are lang and mirk,

The carline wife's three sons came hame,

And their hats were o' the birk.

It neither grew in syke nor ditch,

Nor yet in ony sheugh;

But at the gates o' Paradise,

That birk grew fair eneugh.

* * * * *

"Blow up the fire, my maidens!

"Bring water from the well!

"For a' my house shall feast this night,

"Since my three sons are well."

And she has made to them a bed,

She's made it large and wide;

And she's ta'en her mantle her about,

Sat down at the bed-side.

* * * * *

Up then crew the red red cock,

And up and crew the gray;

The eldest to the youngest said,

"'Tis time we were away."

The cock he hadna craw'd but once,

And clapp'd his wings at a',

Whan the youngest to the eldest said,

"Brother, we must awa.

"The cock doth craw, the day doth daw,

"The channerin'[11] worm doth chide;

"Gin we be mist out o' our place,

"A sair pain we maun bide.

"Fare ye weel, my mother dear!

"Fareweel to barn and byre!

"And fare ye weel, the bonny lass,

"That kindles my mother's fire."

* * * * *

NOTES

THE WIFE OF USHER'S WELL.

* * * * *

_I wish the wind may never cease, &c._--P. 46. v. 2.

The sense of this verse is obscure, owing, probably, to corruption

by reciters. It would appear, that the mother had sinned in the same

degree with the celebrated _Lenoré_.

_And their hats were o' the birk._--P. 46. v. 3.

The notion, that the souls of the blessed wear garlands, seems to be

of Jewish origin. At least, in the _Maase-book_, there is a Rabbinical

tradition, to the following effect:--

"It fell out, that a Jew, whose name was Ponim, an ancient man, whose

business was altogether about the dead, coming to the door of the

school, saw one standing there, who had a garland upon his head. Then

was Rabbi Ponim afraid, imagining it was a spirit. Whereupon he, whom

the Rabbi saw, called out to him, saying, 'Be not afraid, but pass

forward. Dost thou not know me?' Then said Rabbi Ponim, 'Art not thou

he whom I buried yesterday?' And he was answered, 'Yea, I am he.'

Upon which Rabbi Ponim said, 'Why comest thou hither? How fareth it

with thee in the other world?' And the apparition made answer, 'It

goeth well with me, and I am in high esteem in paradise.' Then said

the Rabbi, 'Thou wert but looked upon in the world as an insignificant

Jew. What good work didst thou do, that thou art thus esteemed?' The

apparition answered, 'I will tell thee: the reason of the esteem I am

in, is, that I rose every morning early, and with fervency uttered my

prayer, and offered the grace from the bottom of my heart: for which

reason I now pronounce grace in paradise, and am well respected. If

thou doubtest whether I am the person, I will show thee a token that

shall convince thee of it. Yesterday, when thou didst clothe me in my

funeral attire, thou didst tear my sleeve.' Then asked Rabbi Ponim,

'What is the meaning of that garland?' The apparition answered, 'I wear

it, to the end the wind of the world may not have power over me; for it

consists of excellent herbs of paradise.' Then did Rabbi Ponim mend the

sleeve of the deceased: for the deceased had said, that if it was not

mended, he should be ashamed to be seen amongst others, whose apparel

was whole. And then the apparition vanished. Wherefore, let every one

utter his prayer with fervency; for then it shall go well with him

in the other world. And let care be taken that no rent, nor tearing,

be left in the apparel in which the deceased are interred."--_Jewish

Traditions, abridged from Buxtorf_, London, 1732, Vol. II. p. 19.

_Gin we be mist out o' our place,_

_A sair pain we maun bide._--P. 48. v. 1.

This will remind the German reader of the comic adieu of a heavenly

apparition:--

Doch sieh! man schliesst die himmels thür

Adieu! der himmlische Portier

Ist streng und hält auf ordnung.

_Blumauer._

FOOTNOTES:

[11] _Channerin'_--Fretting.

COSPATRICK.

NEVER BEFORE PUBLISHED.

* * * * *

_A copy of this Ballad, materially different from that which follows,

appeared in_ "Scottish Songs," _2 vols. Edinburgh, 1792, under the

title of_ Lord Bothwell. _Some stanzas have been transferred from

thence to the present copy, which is taken down from the recitation

of a Lady, nearly related to the Editor. Some readings have been also

adopted from a third copy, in Mrs_ BROWN'S _MS., under the title of_

Child Brenton. _Cospatrick_ (Comes Patricius) _was the designation of

the Earl of Dunbar, in the days of_ WALLACE _and_ BRUCE.

* * * * *

Cospatrick has sent o'er the faem;

Cospatrick brought his ladye hame;

And fourscore ships have come her wi',

The ladye by the grene-wood tree.

There were twal' and twal' wi' baken bread,

And twal' and twal' wi' gowd sae reid,

And twal' and twal' wi' bouted flour,

And twal' and twal' wi' the paramour.

Sweet Willy was a widow's son,

And at her stirrup he did run;

And she was clad in the finest pall,

But aye she let the tears down fall.

"O is your saddle set awrye?

"Or rides your steed for you owre high?

"Or are you mourning, in your tide,

"That you suld be Cospatrick's bride?"

"I am not mourning, at this tide,

"That I suld be Cospatrick's bride;

"But I am sorrowing, in my mood,

"That I suld leave my mother good.

"But, gentle boy, come tell to me,

"What is the custom of thy countrie?"

"The custom thereof, my dame," he says,

"Will ill a gentle ladye please.

"Seven king's daughters has our lord wedded,

"And seven king's daughters has our lord bedded;

"But he's cutted their breasts frae their breast-bane,

"And sent them mourning hame again.

"Yet, gin you're sure that you're a maid,

"Ye may gae safely to his bed;

"But gif o' that ye be na sure,

"Then hire some damsell o' your bour."

The ladye's called her bour maiden,

That waiting was into her train;

"Five thousand merks I'll gie to thee,

"To sleep this night with my lord for me."

When bells were rung, and mass was sayne,

And a' men unto bed were gane,

Cospatrick and the bonny maid,

Into ae chamber they were laid.

"Now, speak to me, blankets, and speak to me, bed,

"And speak, thou sheet, enchanted web;

"And speak up, my bonny brown sword, that winna lie,

"Is this a true maiden that lies by me?"

"It is not a maid that you hae wedded,

"But it is a maid that you hae bedded;

"It is a leal maiden that lies by thee,

"But not the maiden that it should be."

O wrathful he left the bed,

And wrathfully his claiths on did;

And he has ta'en him through the ha',

And on his mother he did ca'.

"I am the most unhappy man,

"That ever was in christen land!

"I courted a maiden, meik and mild,

"And I hae gotten naething but a woman wi' child."

"O stay, my son, into this ha',

"And sport ye wi' your merrymen a';

"And I will to the secret bour,

"To see how it fares wi' your paramour."

The carline she was stark and sture,

She aff the hinges dang the dure;

"O is your bairn to laird or loun,

"Or is it to your father's groom?"

"O! hear me, mother, on my knee,

"Till my sad story I tell thee:

"O we were sisters, sisters seven,

"We were the fairest under heaven.

"It fell on a summer's afternoon,

"When a' our toilsome task was done,

"We cast the kevils us amang,

"To see which suld to the grene-wood gang.

"O hon! alas, for I was youngest,

"And aye my weird it was the hardest!

"The kevil it on me did fa',

"Whilk was the cause of a' my woe,

"For to the grene-wood I maun gae,

"To pu' the red rose and the slae;

"To pu' the red rose and the thyme,

"To deck my mother's bour and mine.

"I hadna pu'd a flower but ane,

"When by there came a gallant hende,

"Wi' high coll'd hose and laigh coll'd shoon,

"And he seemed to be sum king's son.

"And be I maid, or be I nae,

"He kept me there till the close o' day;

"And be I maid, or be I nane,

"He kept me there till the day was done.

"He gae me a lock o' his yellow hair,

"And bade me keep it ever mair;

"He gae me a carknet[12] o' bonny beads,

"And bade me keep it against my needs.

"He gae to me a gay gold ring,

"And bade me keep it abune a' thing."

"What did ye wi' the tokens rare,

"That ye gat frae that gallant there?"

"O bring that coffer unto me,

"And a' the tokens ye sall see."

"Now stay, daughter, your bour within,

"While I gae parley wi' my son."

O she has ta'en her thro' the ha',

And on her son began to ca';

"What did you wi' the bonny beads,

"I bade ye keep against your needs?

"What did you wi' the gay gold ring,

"I bade ye keep abune a' thing?"

"I gae them to a ladye gay,

"I met in grene-wood on a day.

"But I wad gie a' my halls and tours,

"I had that ladye within my bours;

"But I wad gie my very life,

"I had that ladye to my wife."

"Now keep, my son, your ha's and tours;

"Ye have that bright burd in your bours:

"And keep, my son, your very life;

"Ye have that lady to your wife."

Now, or a month was cum and gane,

The ladye bore a bonny son;

And 'twas weel written on his breast bane,

"Cospatrick is my father's name."

O row my ladye in satin and silk,

And wash my son in the morning milk.

FOOTNOTES:

[12] _Carknet_--A necklace. Thus:

"She threw away her rings and _carknet_ cleen."--Harrison's

Translation of _Orlando Furioso--Notes on book 37th._

PRINCE ROBERT,

NEVER BEFORE PUBLISHED.

FROM THE RECITATION OF A LADY, NEARLY RELATED TO THE EDITOR.

* * * * *

Prince Robert has wedded a gay ladye,

He has wedded her with a ring;

Prince Robert has wedded a gay ladye,

But he darna bring her hame.

"Your blessing, your blessing, my mother dear!

"Your blessing now grant to me!"

"Instead of a blessing ye sall have my curse,

"And you'll get nae blessing frae me."

She has called upon her waiting maid,

To fill a glass of wine;

She has called upon her fause steward,

To put rank poison in.

She has put it to her roudes[13] lip,

And to her roudes chin;

She has put it to her fause fause mouth,

But the never a drap gaed in.

He has put it to his bonny mouth,

And to his bonny chin,

He's put it to his cherry lip,

And sae fast the rank poison ran in.

"O ye hae poisoned your ae son, mother,

"Your ae son and your heir;

O ye hae poisoned your ae son, mother,

"And sons you'll never hae mair.

"O where will I get a little boy,

"That will win hose and shoon,

To run sae fast to Darlinton,

"And bid fair Eleanor come?"

Then up and spake a little boy,

That wad win hose and shoon,--

"O I'll away to Darlinton,

"And bid fair Eleanor come."

O he has run to Darlinton,

And tirled at the pin;

And wha was sae ready as Eleanor's sell

To let the bonny boy in.

"Your gude-mother has made ye a rare dinour,

"She's made it baith gude and fine;

"Your gude-mother has made ye a gay dinour,

"And ye maun cum till her and dine."

Its twenty lang miles to Sillertoun town,

The langest that ever were gane;

But the steed it was wight, and the ladye was light,

And she cam linkin'[14] in.

But when she cam to Sillertoun town,

And into Sillertoun ha',

The torches were burning, the ladies were mourning,

And they were weeping a'.

"O where is now my wedded lord,

"And where now can he be?

"O where is now my wedded lord?

"For him I canna see."

"Your wedded lord is dead," she says,

"And just gane to be laid in the clay;

"Your wedded lord is dead," she says,

"And just gane to be buried the day.

"Ye'se get nane o' his gowd, ye'se get nane o' his gear,

"Ye'se get nae thing frae me;

"Ye'se no get an inch o' his gude broad land,

"Tho' your heart suld burst in three."

"I want nane o' his gowd, I want nane o' his gear,

"I want nae land frae thee;

"But I'll hae the ring that's on his finger,

"For them he did promise to me."

"Ye'se no get the ring that's on his finger,

"Ye'se no get them frae me;

"Ye'se no get the ring that's on his finger,

"An' your heart suld burst in three."

She's turned her back unto the wa',

And her face unto a rock;

And there, before the mother's face,

Her very heart it broke.

The tane was buried in Mary's kirk,

The tother in Marie's quair;

And out o' the tane there sprang a birk,

And out o' the tother a brier.

And thae twa met, and thae twa plat,

The birk but and the brier;

And by that ye may very weel ken

They were twa lovers dear.[15]

FOOTNOTES:

[13] _Roudes_--Haggard.

[14] _Linkin'_--Riding briskly.

[15] The last two verses are common to many ballads, and are probably

derived from some old metrical romance, since we find the idea occur in

the conclusion of the voluminous history of Sir Tristrem. "_Ores veitil

que de la tumbe Tristan yssoit une belle ronce verte et feuilleue, qui

alloit par la chapelle, et descendoit le bout de la ronce sur la tumbe

d'Ysseult et entroit dedans._" This marvellous plant was three times

cut down; but, continues Rusticien de Puise, "_Le lendemain estoit

aussi belle comme elle avoit cy-devant ètè, et ce miracle ètoit sur

Tristan et sur Ysseult a tout jamais advenir_."

KING HENRIE.

THE ANCIENT COPY.

* * * * *

This ballad is edited from the MS. of Mrs Brown, corrected by a recited

fragment. A modernized copy has been published, under the title of

"Courteous King Jamie."--_Tales of Wonder_, Vol. II. p. 451.

The legend will remind the reader of the "Marriage of Sir Gawain," in

the _Reliques of Ancient Poetry_, and of the "Wife of Bath's Tale,"

in Father Chaucer. But the original, as appears from the following

quotation from Torfoeus, is to be found in an Icelandic Saga:

"_Hellgius, Rex Daniæ, moerore ob amissam conjugem vexatus, solus

agebat, et subducens se hominum commercio, segregem domum, omnis

famulitii impatiens, incolebat. Accidit autem, ut nocte concubia,

lamentabilis cujusdam ante fores ejulantis sonus auribus ejus

obreperet. Expergefactus igitur, recluso ostio, informe quoddam

mulieris simulacrum,_ "_habitu corporis foedum, veste squalore

obsita, pallore, macie frigorisque tyrannide prope modum peremptum,

deprehendit; quod precibus obsecratus, ut qui jam miserorum ærumnas ex

propria calamitate pensare didicisset, in domum intromisit; ipse lectum

petit. At mulier, ne hac quidem benignitate contenta, thori consortium

obnixè flagitabat, addens id tanti referre, ut nisi impetraret, omnino

sibi moriendum esset. Quod, ea lege, ne ipsum attingeret, concessum

est. Ideo nec complexu eam dignatus rex, avertit sese. Cum autem prima

luce forte oculos ultro citroque converteret, eximiæ formæ virginem

lecto receptam animadvertit; quæ statim ipsi placere coepit: causam

igitur tam repentinæ mutationis curiosius indaganti, respondit virgo,

se unam e subterraneorum hominum genere diris novercalibus devotam,

tam tetra et execrabili specie, quali primo comparuit, damnatam,

quoad thori cujusdam principis socia fieret, multos reges hac de re

sollicitasse. Jam actis pro præstito beneficio gratiis, discessum

maturans, a rege formæ ejus illecebris capto comprimitur. Deinde petit,

si prolem ex hoc congressu progigni contigerit, sequente hyeme, eodem

anni tempore, ante fores positam in ædes reciperet, seque ejus patrem

profiteri non gravaretur, secus non leve infortunium insecuturum

prædixit: a quo præcepto cum rex postea exorbitasset, nec præ foribus

jacentem infantem pro suo agnoscere voluisset, ad eum iterum, sed

corrugata fronte, accessit, obque violatam fidem acrius objurgatum

ab imminente periculo, præstiti olim beneficii gratia, exempturam

pollicebatur, ita tamen ut tota ultionis rabies in filium ejus_

"_effusa graves aliquando levitatis illius pænas exigeret. Ex hac

tam dissimilium naturarum commixtione, Skulda, versuti et versatilis

animi mulier, nata fuisse memoratur; quæ utramque naturam participans

prodigiosorum operum effectrix perhibetur._"--Hrolffi Krakii, Hist. p.

49, Hafn. 1715.

KING HENRIE.

ANCIENT COPY.

* * * * *

Let never a man a wooing wend,

That lacketh thingis thrie:

A rowth o' gold, an open heart,

And fu' o' courtesey.

And this was seen o' King Henrie,

For he lay burd alane;

And he has ta'en him to a haunted hunt's ha',

Was seven miles frae a toun.

He's chaced the dun deer thro' the wood,

And the roe doun by the den,

Till the fattest buck, in a' the herd,

King Henrie he has slain.

He's ta'en him to his hunting ha',

For to make burly cheir;

When loud the wind was heard to sound,

And an earthquake rocked the floor.

And darkness cover'd a' the hall,

Where they sat at their meat:

The gray dogs, youling, left their food,

And crept to Henrie's feet.

And louder houled the rising wind,

And burst the fast'ned door;

And in there came a griesly ghost,

Stood stamping on the floor.

Her head touched the roof-tree of the house;

Her middle ye weel mot span:

Each frighted huntsman fled the ha',

And left the king alone.

Her teeth were a' like tether stakes,

Her nose like club or mell;

And I ken naething she appeared to be,

But the fiend that wons in hell.

"Sum meat, sum meat, ye King Henrie!

"Sum meat ye gie to me!"

"And what meat's in this house, ladye,

"That ye're na wellcum tee?"[16]

"O ye'se gae kill your berry-brown steed,

"And serve him up to me."

O when he killed his berry-brown steed,

Wow gin his heart was sair!

She eat him a' up, skin and bane,

Left naething but hide and hair.

"Mair meat, mair meat, ye King Henrie!

"Mair meat ye gie to me!"

"And what meat's i' this house, ladye,

"That ye're na wellcum tee?"

"O ye do slay your gude gray houndes,

"And bring them a' to me."

O when he slew his gude gray houndes,

Wow but his heart was sair!

She's ate them a' up, ane by ane,

Left naething but hide and hair.

"Mair meat, mair meat, ye King Henrie!

"Mair meat ye gie to me!"

"And what meat's i' this house, ladye,

"That I hae left to gie?"

"O ye do fell your gay goss-hawks,

"And bring them a' to me."

O when he felled his gay goss-hawks,

Wow but his heart was sair!

She's ate them a' up, bane by bane,

Left naething but feathers bare.

"Some drink, some drink, ye King Henrie!

"Sum drink ye gie to me!"

"And what drink's in this house, ladye,

"That ye're na wellcum tee?"

"O ye sew up your horse's hide,

"And bring in a drink to me."

O he has sewed up the bluidy hide,

And put in a pipe of wine;

She drank it a' up at ae draught,

Left na a drap therein.

"A bed, a bed, ye King Henrie!

"A bed ye mak to me!"

"And what's the bed i' this house, ladye,

"That ye're na wellcum tee?"

"O ye maun pu' the green heather,

"And mak a bed to me."

O pu'd has he the heather green,

And made to her a bed;

And up he has ta'en his gay mantle,

And o'er it he has spread.

"Now swear, now swear, ye King Henrie,

"To take me for your bride!"

"O God forbid," King Henrie said,

"That e'er the like betide!

"That e'er the fiend, that wons in hell,

"Should streak down by my side."

* * * * *

When day was come, and night was gane,

And the sun shone through the ha',

The fairest ladye, that e'er was seen,

Lay atween him and the wa'.

"O weel is me!" King Henrie said,

"How lang will this last wi' me?"

And out and spak that ladye fair,

"E'en till the day ye die.

"For I was witched to a ghastly shape,

"All by my stepdame's skill,

"Till I should meet wi' a courteous knight,

"Wad gie me a' my will."

FOOTNOTES:

[16] _Tee_, for _to_, is the Buchanshire and Gallovidian pronunciation.

ANNAN WATER.

NEVER BEFORE PUBLISHED.

* * * * *

The following verses are the original words of the tune of "_Allan

Water_," by which name the song is mentioned in Ramsay's _Tea Table

Miscellany_. The ballad is given from tradition; and it is said, that

a bridge, over the Annan, was built in consequence of the melancholy

catastrophe which it narrates. Two verses are added in this edition,

from another copy of the ballad, in which the conclusion proves

fortunate. By the _Gatehope Slack_, is perhaps meant the _Gate Slack_,

a pass in Annandale. The Annan, and the Frith of Solway, into which

it falls, are the frequent scenes of tragical accidents. The editor

trusts he will be pardoned for inserting the following awfully

impressive account of such an event, contained in a letter from Dr

Currie, of Liverpool, by whose correspondence, while in the course of

preparing these volumes for the press, he has been alike honoured and

instructed. After stating, that he had some recollection of the ballad

which follows, the biographer of Burns proceeds thus: "I once in my

early days heard (for it was night, and I could not see) a traveller

drowning; not in the Annan itself, but in the Frith of Solway, close

by the mouth of that river. The influx of the tide had unhorsed him,

in the night, as he was passing the sands from Cumberland. The west

wind blew a tempest, and, according to the common expression, brought

in the water, _three foot a-breast_. The traveller got upon a standing

net, a little way from the shore. There he lashed himself to the post,

shouting for half an hour for assistance--till the tide rose over his

head! In the darkness of night, and amid the pauses of the hurricane,

his voice, heard at intervals, was exquisitely mournful. No one could

go to his assistance--no one knew where he was--the sound seemed to

proceed from the spirit of the waters. But morning rose--the tide had

ebbed--and the poor traveller was found lashed to the pole of the net,

and bleaching in the wind."

ANNAN WATER.

* * * * *

"Annan water's wading deep,

"And my love Annie's wondrous bonny;

"And I am laith she suld weet her feet,

"Because I love her best of ony.

"Gar saddle me the bonny black;

"Gar saddle sune, and make him ready:

"For I will down the Gatehope-slack,

"And all to see my bonny ladye."

He has loupen on the bonny black,

He stirr'd him wi' the spur right sairly;

But, or he wan the Gatehope-slack,

I think the steed was wae and weary.

He has loupen on the bonny gray,

He rade the right gate and the ready;

I trow he would neither stint nor stay,

For he was seeking his bonny ladye.

O he has ridden ower field and fell,

Through muir and moss, and mony a mire;

His spurs o' steel were sair to bide,

And frae her fore-feet flew the fire.

"Now, bonny gray, now play your part!

"Gin ye be the steed that wins my deary,

"Wi' corn and hay ye'se be fed for aye,

"And never spur sall make you wearie."

The gray was a mare, and a right good mare;

But when she wan the Annan water,

She could na hae ridden a furlong mair,

Had a thousand merks been wadded[17] at her.

"O boatman, boatman, put off your boat!

"Put off your boat for gowden monie!

"I cross the drumly stream the night,

"Or never mair I see my honey."

"O I was sworn sae late yestreen,

"And not by ae aith, but by many;

"And for a' the gowd in fair Scotland,

"I dare na take ye through to Annie."

The side was stey, and the bottom deep,

Frae bank to brae the water pouring;

And the bonny gray mare did sweat for fear,

For she heard the water kelpy roaring.

O he has pou'd aff his dapperpy[18] coat,

The silver buttons glanced bonny;

The waistcoat bursted aff his breast,

He was sae full of melancholy.

He has ta'en the ford at that stream tail;

I wot he swam both strong and steady;

But the stream was broad, and his strength did fail,

And he never saw his bonny ladye.

"O wae betide the frush[19] saugh wand!

"And wae betide the bush of briar!

"It brake into my true love's hand,

"When his strength did fail, and his limbs did tire.

"And wae betide ye, Annan water,

"This night that ye are a drumlie river!

"For over thee I'll build a bridge,

"That ye never more true love may sever."

FOOTNOTES:

[17] _Wadded_--Wagered.

[18] _Quære_--Cap-a-pee?

[19] _Frush_--Brittle.

THE CRUEL SISTER.

* * * * *

This ballad differs essentially from that which has been published in

various collections, under the title of _Binnorie_. It is compiled from

a copy in Mrs Brown's MSS., intermixed with a beautiful fragment, of

fourteen verses, transmitted to the editor by J. C. Walker, Esq. the

ingenious historian of the Irish bards. Mr Walker, at the same time,

favoured the editor with the following note:--"I am indebted to my

departed friend, Miss Brook, for the foregoing pathetic fragment. Her

account of it was as follows: This song was transcribed, several years

ago, from the memory of an old woman, who had no recollection of the

concluding verses: probably the beginning may also be lost, as it seems

to commence abruptly." The first verse and burden of the fragment run

thus:--

O sister, sister, reach thy hand!

Hey ho, my Nanny, O;

And you shall be heir of all my land,

While the swan swims bonny, O.

The first part of this chorus seems to be corrupted from the common

burden of _Hey, Nonny, Nonny_, alluded to in the song, beginning,

"_Sigh no more, ladye_." The chorus, retained in this edition, is the

most common and popular; but Mrs Brown's copy bears a yet different

burden, beginning thus:--

There were twa sisters sat in a bour,

Edinborough, Edinborough;

There were twa sisters sat in a bour,

Stirling for aye;

There were twa sisters sat in a bour,

There cam a knight to be their wooer,

Bonny St Johnston stands upon Tay.

THE CRUEL SISTER.

* * * * *

There were two sisters sat in a bour;

Binnorie, O Binnorie;

There came a knight to be their wooer;