THE TWA BROTHERS.
From Jamieson's _Popular Ballads_, i. 59.
The ballad of the _Twa Brothers_, like many of the domestic tragedies
with which it is grouped in this volume, is by no means the peculiar
property of the island of Great Britain. It finds an exact counterpart
in the Swedish ballad _Sven i Roseng[oa]rd_, _Svenska F. V._, No. 67,
Arwidsson, No. 87, A, B, which, together with a Finnish version of the
same story, thought to be derived from the Swedish, will be found
translated in our Appendix. _Edward_, in Percy's _Reliques_, has the
same general theme, with the difference that a father is murdered
instead of a brother. Motherwell[C] has printed a ballad (_Son Davie_)
closely agreeing with _Edward_, except that the crime is again
fratricide. He has also furnished another version of _The Twa Brothers_,
in which the catastrophe is the consequence of an accident, and this
circumstance has led the excellent editor to tax Jamieson with altering
one of the most essential features of the ballad, by filling out a
defective stanza with four lines that make one brother to have slain the
other in a quarrel. Jamieson is, however, justified in giving this more
melancholy character to the story, by the tenor of all the kindred
pieces, and by the language of his own. It will be observed that both in
_Edward_ and _Son Davie_, the wicked act was not only deliberate, but
was even instigated by the mother. The departure from the original is
undoubtedly on the part of Motherwell's copy, which has softened down a
shocking incident to accommodate a modern and refined sentiment. But
Jamieson is artistically, as well as critically right, since the effect
of the contrast of the remorse of one party and the generosity of the
other is heightened by representing the terrible event as the result of
ungoverned passion.
[C] The stanza mentioned by Motherwell, as occurring in Werner's
_Twenty Fourth of February_, (Scene i.) is apparently only a
quotation from memory of Herder's translation of _Edward_. When
Motherwell became aware that a similar tradition was common to the
Northern nations of Europe, he could no longer have thought it
possible that an occurrence in the family history of the Somervilles
gave rise to _The Twa Brothers_.
The three Scottish ballads mentioned above, here follow, and
Motherwell's _Twa Brothers_ will be found in the Appendix. Mr.
Sharpe has inserted a third copy of this in his _Ballad Book_, p.
56. Another is said to be in _The Scot's Magazine_, for June, 1822.
Placing no confidence in any of Allan Cunningham's _souvenirs_ of
Scottish Song, we simply state that one of them, composed upon the
theme of the _Twa Brothers_, is included in the _Songs of Scotland_,
ii. 16.
"The common title of this ballad is, _The Twa Brothers_, or, _The
Wood o' Warslin_, but the words _o' Warslin_ appearing to the
editor, as will be seen in the text, to be a mistake for
_a-wrestling_, he took the liberty of altering it accordingly. After
all, perhaps, the title may be right; and the wood may afterwards
have obtained its denomination from the tragical event here
celebrated. A very few lines inserted by the editor to fill up
chasms, [some of which have been omitted,] are inclosed in brackets;
the text, in other respects, is given genuine, as it was taken down
from the recitation of Mrs. Arrott." JAMIESON.
"O will ye gae to the school, brother?
Or will ye gae to the ba'?
Or will ye gae to the wood a-warslin,
To see whilk o's maun fa'?"
"It's I winna gae to the school, brother; 5
Nor will I gae to the ba'?
But I will gae to the wood a-warslin;
And it is you maun fa'."
They warstled up, they warstled down,
The lee-lang simmer's day; 10
[And nane was near to part the strife,
That raise atween them tway,
Till out and Willie's drawn his sword,
And did his brother slay.]
"O lift me up upon your back; 15
Tak me to yon wall fair;
You'll wash my bluidy wounds o'er and o'er,
And syne they'll bleed nae mair.
"And ye'll tak aff my Hollin sark,
And riv't frae gair to gair; 20
Ye'll stap it in my bluidy wounds,
And syne they'll bleed nae mair."
He's liftit his brother upon his back;
Ta'en him to yon wall fair;
He's washed his bluidy wounds o'er and o'er, 25
But ay they bled mair and mair.
And he's ta'en aff his Hollin sark,
And riven't frae gair to gair;
He's stappit it in his bluidy wounds;
But ay they bled mair and mair. 30
"Ye'll lift me up upon your back,
Tak me to Kirkland fair;[L32]
Ye'll mak my greaf baith braid and lang,
And lay my body there.
"Ye'll lay my arrows at my head, 35
My bent bow at my feet;
My sword and buckler at my side,
As I was wont to sleep.
"Whan ye gae hame to your father,
He'll speer for his son John:-- 40
Say, ye left him into Kirkland fair,
Learning the school alone.
"When ye gae hame to my sister,
She'll speer for her brother John:--
Ye'll say, ye left him in Kirkland fair, 45
The green grass growin aboon.
"Whan ye gae hame to my true love,
She'll speer for her lord John:--
Ye'll say, ye left him in Kirkland fair,
But hame ye fear he'll never come."-- 50
He's gane hame to his father;
He speered for his son John:
"It's I left him into Kirkland fair,
Learning the school alone."
And whan he gaed hame to his sister, 55
She speered for her brother John:--
"It's I left him into Kirkland fair,
The green grass growin aboon."
And whan he gaed hame to his true love,
She speer'd for her lord John: 60
"It's I left him into Kirkland fair,
And hame I fear he'll never come."
"But whaten bluid's that on your sword, Willie?
Sweet Willie, tell to me."
"O it is the bluid o' my grey hounds; 65
They wadna rin for me."
"It's nae the bluid o' your hounds, Willie;
Their bluid was never so red;
But it is the bluid o' my true love,
That ye hae slain indeed." 70
That fair may wept, that fair may mourn'd,
That fair may mourn'd and pin'd;
"When every lady looks for her love,
I ne'er need look for mine."
"O whaten a death will ye die, Willie? 75
Now, Willie, tell to me."
"Ye'll put me in a bottomless boat,
And I'll gae sail the sea."
"Whan will ye come hame again, Willie?
Now, Willie, tell to me." 80
"Whan the sun and moon dances on the green,
And that will never be."
32. "The house of Inchmurry, formerly called Kirkland, was built of
old by the abbot of Holyrood-house, for his accommodation when he
came to that country, and was formerly the minister's manse." _Stat.
Ac. of Scotland_, vol. xiii. p. 506. J.
EDWARD, EDWARD.
"This curious Song was transmitted to the Editor by Sir David
Dalrymple, Bart., late Lord Hailes."
PERCY, _Reliques_, i. 61.
"Quhy dois zour brand sae drop w' bluid,
Edward, Edward?
Quhy dois zour brand sae drop wi' bluid,
And quhy sae sad gang zee O?"
"O I hae killed my hauke sae guid, 5
Mither, mither:
O I hae killed my hauke sae guid,
And I had nae mair bot hee O."
"Zour haukis bluid was nevir sae reid,
Edward, Edward: 10
Zour haukis bluid was nevir sae reid,
My deir son I tell thee O."
"O I hae killed my reid-roan steid,
Mither, mither:
O I hae killed my reid-roan steid, 15
That erst was sae fair and free O."
"Zour steid was auld, and ze hae gat mair,
Edward, Edward:
Zour steid was auld, and ze hae gat mair,
Sum other dule ze drie O." 20
"O I hae killed my fadir deir,
Mither, mither:
O I hae killed my fadir deir,
Alas! and wae is mee O!"
"And quhatten penance wul ze drie, for that, 25
Edward, Edward?
And quhatten penance will ze drie for that?
My deir son, now tell me O."
"Ile set my feit in zonder boat,
Mither, mither: 30
Ile set my feit in zonder boat,
And Ile fare ovir the sea O."
"And quhat wul ze doe wi' zour towirs and zour ha',
Edward, Edward?
And quhat wul ze doe wi' zour towirs and zour ha', 35
That were sae fair to see O?"
"Ile let thame stand til they doun fa',
Mither, mither:
Ile let thame stand til they doun fa',
For here nevir mair maun I bee O." 40
"And quhat wul ze leive to zour bairns and zour wife,
Edward, Edward?
And quhat wul ze leive to zour bairns and zour wife,
Quhan ze gang ovir the sea O?"
"The warldis room, late them beg throw life, 45
Mither, mither:
The warldis room, late them beg throw life,
For thame nevir mair wul I see O."
"And quhat wul ze leive to zour ain mither deir,
Edward, Edward? 50
And quhat wul ze leive to zour ain mither deir?
My deir son, now tell me O."
"The curse of hell frae me sall ze beir,
Mither, mither:
The curse of hell frae me sall ze beir, 55
Sic counseils ze gave to me O."
SON DAVIE, SON DAVIE.
From the recitation of an old woman. Motherwell's _Minstrelsy_, 339.
"What bluid's that on thy coat lap?
Son Davie! son Davie!
What bluid's that on thy coat lap?
And the truth come tell to me O."
"It is the bluid of my great hawk, 5
Mother lady! mother lady!
It is the bluid of my great hawk,
And the truth I hae tald to thee O."
"Hawk's bluid was ne'er sae red,
Son Davie! son Davie! 10
Hawk's bluid was ne'er sae red,
And the truth come tell to me O."
"It is the bluid o' my grey hound,
Mother lady! mother lady!
It is the bluid of my grey hound, 15
And it wudna rin for me O."
"Hound's bluid was ne'er sae red,
Son Davie! son Davie!
Hound's bluid was ne'er sae red,
And the truth come tell to me O." 20
"It is the bluid o' my brother John,
Mother lady! mother lady!
It is the bluid o' my brother John,
And the truth I hae tald to thee O."
"What about did the plea begin? 25
Son Davie! son Davie!"
"It began about the cutting o' a willow wand,
That would never hae been a tree O."
"What death dost thou desire to die?
Son Davie! son Davie! 30
What death dost thou desire to die?
And the truth come tell to me O."
"I'll set my foot in a bottomless ship,
Mother lady! mother lady!
I'll set my foot in a bottomless ship, 35
And ye'll never see mair o' me O."
"What wilt thou leave to thy poor wife?
Son Davie! son Davie!"
"Grief and sorrow all her life,
And she'll never get mair frae me O." 40
"What wilt thou leave to thy auld son?
Son Davie! son Davie!"
"The weary warld to wander up and down,
And he'll never get mair o' me O."
"What wilt thou leave to thy mother dear? 45
Son Davie! son Davie!"
"A fire o' coals to burn her wi' hearty cheer,
And she'll never get mair o' me O."
THE CRUEL SISTER.
The earliest printed copy of this ballad is the curious piece in
_Wit Restor'd_, (1658,) called _The Miller and the King's Daughter_,
improperly said to be a parody, by Jamieson and others. (See
Appendix.) Pinkerton inserted in his _Tragic Ballads_, (p. 72,) a
ballad on the subject, which preserves many genuine lines, but is
half his own composition. Complete versions were published by Scott
and Jamieson, and more recently a third has been furnished in
Sharpe's _Ballad Book_, p. 30, and a fourth in Buchan's _Ballads of
the North of Scotland_ (given at the end of this volume). The burden
of Mr. Sharpe's copy is nearly the same as that of the _Cruel
Mother_, _post_, p. 372. Jamieson's copy had also this burden, but
he exchanged it for the more popular, and certainly more tasteful,
_Binnorie_. No ballad furnishes a closer link than this between the
popular poetry of England and that of the other nations of Northern
Europe. The same story is found in Icelandic, Norse, Faroish, and
Estnish ballads, as well as in the Swedish and Danish, and a nearly
related one in many other ballads or tales, German, Polish,
Lithuanian, etc., etc.--See _Svenska Folk-Visor_, iii. 16, i. 81,
86, Arwidsson, ii. 139, and especially _Den Talende Strengeleg_,
Grundtvig, No. 95, and the notes to _Der Singende Knochen_, _K. u.
H. M[:a]rchen_, iii. 55, ed. 1856.
Of the edition in the _Border Minstrelsy_, Scott gives the following
account, (iii. 287.)
"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, favored 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 trans-scribed, 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 ran 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 bonney, O_.'"
There were two sisters sat in a bour;
_B['i]nnorie, O B['i]nnorie_;
There came a knight to be their wooer;
_By the bonny milldams of Binnorie_.
He courted the eldest with glove and ring, 5
_Binnorie, O Binnorie_;
But he lo'ed the youngest abune a' thing;
_By the bonny milldams of Binnorie_.
He courted the eldest with broach and knife,
_Binnorie, O Binnorie_; 10
But he lo'ed the youngest abune his life;
_By the bonny milldams of Binnorie_.
The eldest she was vexed sair,
_Binnorie, O Binnorie_;
And sore envied her sister fair; 15
_By the bonny milldams of Binnorie_.
The eldest said to the youngest ane,
_Binnorie, O Binnorie_;
"Will ye go and see our father's ships come in?"
_By the bonny milldams of Binnorie_. 20
She's ta'en her by the lily hand,
_Binnorie, O Binnorie_;
And led her down to the river strand;
_By the bonny milldams of Binnorie_.
The youngest stude upon a stane, 25
_Binnorie, O Binnorie_;
The eldest came and pushed her in;
_By the bonny milldams of Binnorie_.
She took her by the middle sma',
_Binnorie, O Binnorie_; 30
And dash'd her bonny back to the jaw;
_By the bonny milldams of Binnorie_.
"O sister, sister, reach your hand,
_Binnorie, O Binnorie_;
And ye shall be heir of half my land."-- 35
_By the bonny milldams of Binnorie_.
"O sister, I'll not reach my hand,
_Binnorie, O Binnorie_;
And I'll be heir of all your land;
_By the bonny milldams of Binnorie_. 40
"Shame fa' the hand that I should take,
_Binnorie, O Binnorie_;
It's twin'd me and my world's make."--
_By the bonny milldams of Binnorie_.
"O sister, reach me but your glove, 45
_Binnorie, O Binnorie_;
And sweet William shall be your love."--
_By the bonny milldams of Binnorie_.
"Sink on, nor hope for hand or glove!
_Binnorie, O Binnorie_; 50
And sweet William shall better be my love,
_By the bonny milldams of Binnorie_.
"Your cherry cheeks and your yellow hair,
_Binnorie, O Binnorie_,
Garr'd me gang maiden evermair."-- 55
_By the bonny milldams of Binnorie_.
Sometimes she sunk, and sometimes she swam,
_Binnorie, O Binnorie_;
Until she cam to the miller's dam;
_By the bonny milldams of Binnorie_. 60
"O father, father, draw your dam!
_Binnorie, O Binnorie_;
There's either a mermaid, or a milk-white swan."
_By the bonny milldams of Binnorie_.
The miller hasted and drew his dam, 65
_Binnorie, O Binnorie_;
And there he found a drown'd woman;
_By the bonny milldams of Binnorie_.
You could not see her yellow hair,
_Binnorie, O Binnorie_; 70
For gowd and pearls that were so rare;
_By the bonny milldams of Binnorie_.
You could not see her middle sma',
_Binnorie, O Binnorie_;
Her gowden girdle was sae bra'; 75
_By the bonny milldams of Binnorie_.
A famous harper passing by,
_Binnorie, O Binnorie_;
The sweet pale face he chanced to spy;
_By the bonny milldams of Binnorie_. 80
And when he looked that lady on,
_Binnorie, O Binnorie_;
He sigh'd and made a heavy moan;
_By the bonny milldams of Binnorie_.
He made a harp of her breast-bone, 85
_Binnorie, O Binnorie_;
Whose sounds would melt a heart of stone;
_By the bonny milldams of Binnorie_.
The strings he framed of her yellow hair,
_Binnorie, O Binnorie_; 90
Whose notes made sad the listening ear;
_By the bonny milldams of Binnorie_.
He brought it to her father's hall,
_Binnorie, O Binnorie_;
And there was the court assembled all; 95
_By the bonny milldams of Binnorie_.
He laid his harp upon a stone,
_Binnorie, O Binnorie_;
And straight it began to play alone;
_By the bonny milldams of Binnorie_. 100
"O yonder sits my father, the king,
_Binnorie, O Binnorie_;
And yonder sits my mother, the queen;"
_By the bonny milldams of Binnorie_.
"And yonder stands my brother Hugh, 105
_Binnorie, O Binnorie_;
And by him my William, sweet and true."
_By the bonny milldams of Binnorie_.
But the last tune that the harp play'd then,
_Binnorie, O Binnorie_; 110
Was--"Woe to my sister, false Helen!"
_By the bonny milldams of Binnorie_.
THE TWA SISTERS.
_Verbatim_ (with one interpolated stanza) from the recitation of
Mrs. Brown. Jamieson's _Popular Ballads_, i. 50.
There was twa sisters liv'd in a bower,
_B['i]nnorie, O B['i]nnorie_!
There came a knight to be their wooer,
_By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie_.
He courted the eldest wi' glove and ring, 5
_Binnorie, O Binnorie_!
But he loved the youngest aboon a' thing,
_By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie_.
He courted the eldest wi' broach and knife,
_Binnorie, O Binnorie_! 10
But he loved the youngest as his life,
_By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie_.
The eldest she was vexed sair,
_Binnorie, O Binnorie_!
And sair envied her sister fair, 15
_By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie_.
Intill her bower she coudna rest,
_Binnorie, O Binnorie_!
Wi' grief and spite she maistly brast,
_By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie_. 20
Upon a morning fair and clear,
_Binnorie, O Binnorie_!
She cried upon her sister dear,
_By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie_.
"O sister, come to yon sea strand, 25
_Binnorie, O Binnorie_!
And see our father's ships come to land,"
_By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie_.
She's ta'en her by the milk-white hand,
_Binnorie, O Binnorie_! 30
And led her down to yon sea strand,
_By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie_.
The youngest stood upon a stane,
_Binnorie, O Binnorie_!
The eldest came and threw her in, 35
_By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie_.
She took her by the middle sma'
_Binnorie, O Binnorie_!
And dashed her bonny back to the jaw,
_By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie_. 40
"O sister, sister, tak my hand,
_Binnorie, O Binnorie_!
And I'se mak ye heir to a' my land,
_By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie_.
"O sister, sister, tak my middle, 45
_Binnorie, O Binnorie_!
And ye's get my goud and my gouden girdle,
_By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie_.
"O sister, sister, save my life,
_Binnorie, O Binnorie_! 50
And I swear I'se never be nae man's wife,"
_By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie_.
"Foul fa' the hand that I should tak,
_Binnorie, O Binnorie_!
It twin'd me o' my warldes mak, 55
_By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie_.
"Your cherry cheeks and yellow hair
_Binnorie, O Binnorie_!
Gars me gang maiden for evermair,"
_By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie_. 60
Sometimes she sank, sometimes she swam,
_Binnorie, O Binnorie_!
Till she came to the mouth o' yon mill-dam,
_By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie_.
O out it came the miller's son, 65
_Binnorie, O Binnorie_!
And saw the fair maid soummin in,
_By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie_.
"O father, father, draw your dam,
_Binnorie, O Binnorie_! 70
There's either a mermaid or a swan,"
_By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie_.
[The miller quickly drew the dam,
_Binnorie, O Binnorie_!
And there he found a drown'd woman, 75
_By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie_.]
"And sair and lang mat their teen last,
_Binnorie, O Binnorie_!
That wrought thee sic a dowie cast,"
_By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie_! 80
You coudna see her yellow hair
_Binnorie, O Binnorie_!
For goud and pearl that was sae rare,
_By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie_.
You coudna see her middle sma' 85
_Binnorie, O Binnorie_!
For gouden girdle that was sae braw,
_By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie_.
You coudna see her fingers white,
_Binnorie, O Binnorie_! 90
For gouden rings that were sae gryte,
_By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie_.
And by there came a harper fine,
_Binnorie, O Binnorie_!
That harped to the king at dine, 95
_By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie_.
Whan he did look that lady upon,
_Binnorie, O Binnorie_!
He sigh'd and made a heavy moan,
_By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie_. 100
He's ta'en three locks o' her yellow hair,
_Binnorie, O Binnorie_!
And wi' them strung his harp sae fair,
_By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie_.
The first tune it did play and sing, 105
_Binnorie, O Binnorie_!
Was, "Fareweel to my father the king,"
_By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie_.
The nexten tune that it play'd seen,
_Binnorie, O Binnorie_! 110
Was, "Fareweel to my mither the queen,"
_By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie_.
The thirden tune that it play'd then,
_Binnorie, O Binnorie_!
Was, "Wae to my sister, fair Ellen," 115
_By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie_!
LORD DONALD.
Kinloch's _Ancient Scottish Ballads_, p. 110.
Like the two which preceded it, this ballad is common to the Gothic
nations. It exists in a great variety of forms. Two stanzas,
recovered by Burns, were printed in Johnson's _Museum_, i. 337; two
others were inserted by Jamieson, in his _Illustrations_, p. 319.
The _Border Minstrelsy_ furnished five stanzas, giving the _story_,
without the bequests. Allan Cunningham's alteration of Scott's
version, (_Scottish Songs_, i. 285,) has one stanza more. Kinloch
procured from the North of Scotland the following complete copy.
In the Appendix, we have placed a nursery song on the same subject,
still familiar in Scotland, and translations of the corresponding
German and Swedish ballads--both most remarkable cases of
parallelism in popular romance.
Lord Donald, as Kinloch remarks, would seem to have been poisoned by
eating toads prepared as fishes. Scott, in his introduction to _Lord
Randal_, has quoted from an old chronicle, a fabulous account of the
poisoning of King John by means of a cup of ale, in which the venom
of this reptile had been infused.
"O whare hae ye been a' day, Lord Donald, my son?
O whare hae ye been a' day, my jollie young man?"
"I've been awa courtin':--mither, mak my bed sune,
For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun."
"What wad ye hae for your supper, Lord Donald, my son? 5
What wad ye hae for your supper, my jollie young man?"
"I've gotten my supper:--mither, mak my bed sune,
For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun."
"What did ye get for your supper, Lord Donald, my son?
What did ye get for your supper, my jollie young man?" 10
"A dish of sma' fishes:--mither, mak my bed sune,
For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun."
"Whare gat ye the fishes, Lord Donald, my son?
Whare gat ye the fishes, my jollie young man?"
"In my father's black ditches:--mither, mak my bed sune, 15
For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun."
"What like were your fishes, Lord Donald, my son?
What like were your fishes, my jollie young man?"
"Black backs and spreckl'd bellies:--mither, mak my bed sune,
For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun." 20
"O I fear ye are poison'd, Lord Donald, my son!
O I fear ye are poison'd, my jollie young man!"
"O yes! I am poison'd:--mither mak my bed sune,
For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun."
"What will ye leave to your father, Lord Donald my son? 25
What will ye leave to your father, my jollie young man?"
"Baith my houses and land:--mither, mak my bed sune,
For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun."
"What will ye leave to your brither, Lord Donald, my son?
What will ye leave to your brither, my jollie young man?" 30
"My horse and the saddle:--mither, mak my bed sune,
For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun."
"What will ye leave to your sister, Lord Donald, my son?
What will ye leave to your sister, my jollie young man?"
"Baith my gold box and rings:--mither, mak my bed sune, 35
For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun."
"What will ye leave to your true-love, Lord Donald, my son?
What will ye leave to your true-love, my jollie young man?"
"The tow and the halter, for to hang on yon tree,
And lat her hang there for the poysoning o' me." 40
LORD RANDAL (B).
From _Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_, (iii. 49.)
Scott changed the name of the hero of this piece from _Lord Ronald_ to
_Lord Randal_, on the authority of a single copy. The change is
unimportant, but the reason will appear curious, if we remember that the
Swedes and Germans have the ballad as well as the Scotch;--"because,
though the circumstances are so very different, I think it not
impossible, that the ballad may have originally regarded the death of
Thomas Randolph, or Randal, Earl of Murray, nephew to Robert Bruce, and
governor of Scotland."
"O where hae ye been Lord Randal, my son?
O where hae ye been, my handsome young man?"--
"I hae been to the wild wood; mother make my bed soon,
For I'm weary wi' hunting, and fain wald lie down."--
"Where gat ye your dinner, Lord Randal, my son? 5
Where gat ye your dinner, my handsome young man?"
"I dined wi' my true-love; mother, make my bed soon,
For I'm weary wi' hunting, and fain wald lie down."--
"What gat ye to your dinner, Lord Randal, my son?
What gat ye to your dinner, my handsome young man?"-- 10
"I gat eels boil'd in broo; mother, make my bed soon,
For I'm weary wi' hunting, and fain wald lie down."--
"What became of your bloodhounds, Lord Randal, my son?
What became of your bloodhounds, my handsome young man?"--
"O they swell'd and they died; mother, make my bed soon, 15
For I'm weary wi' hunting, and fain wald lie down."--
"O I fear ye are poison'd, Lord Randal, my son!
O I fear ye are poisoned, my handsome young man!"--
"O yes! I am poison'd; mother, make my bed soon,
For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie down." 20
THE CRUEL BROTHER:
OR,
THE BRIDE'S TESTAMENT.
Of this ballad, which is still commonly recited and sung in
Scotland, four copies have been published. The following is from
Jamieson's collection, i. 66, where it was printed _verbatim_ after
the recitation of Mrs. Arrott. A copy from Aytoun's collection is
subjoined, which is nearly the same as a less perfect one in Herd,
i. 149, and the fourth, from Gilbert's _Ancient Christmas Carols_,
&c., is in the Appendix to this volume.
The conclusion, or testamentary part, occurs very frequently in ballads,
e. g. _Den lillas Testamente_, _Svenska Folk-Visor_, No. 68, translated
in the Appendix to this volume, the end of _Den onde Svigermoder_,
_Danske Viser_, i. 261, translated in _Illustrations of Northern
Antiquities_, p. 344, _M[:o]en paa Baalet_, Grundtvig, No. 109, A, st.
18-21, and _Kong Valdemar og hans S[:o]ster_, Grundtvig, No. 126, A, st.
101-105. See also _Edward_, and _Lord Donald_, p. 225, p. 244.
There was three ladies play'd at the ba',
_With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay_;
There came a knight, and play'd o'er them a',
_As the primrose spreads so sweetly_.
The eldest was baith tall and fair, 5
_With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay_;
But the youngest was beyond compare,
_As the primrose spreads so sweetly_.
The midmost had a gracefu' mien,
_With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay_; 10
But the youngest look'd like beauty's queen,
_As the primrose spreads so sweetly_.
The knight bow'd low to a' the three,
_With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay_;
But to the youngest he bent his knee, 15
_As the primrose spreads so sweetly_.
The lady turned her head aside,
_With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay_;
The knight he woo'd her to be his bride,
_As the primrose spreads so sweetly_. 20
The lady blush'd a rosy red,
_With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay_;
And said, "Sir knight, I'm o'er young to wed,"
_As the primrose spreads so sweetly_.
"O lady fair, give me your hand, 25
_With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay_;
And I'll mak you ladie of a' my land,"
_As the primrose spreads so sweetly_.
"Sir knight, ere you my favor win,
_With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay_; 30
Ye maun get consent frae a' my kin,"
_As the primrose spreads so sweetly_.
He has got consent fra her parents dear,
_With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay_;
And likewise frae her sisters fair, 35
_As the primrose spreads so sweetly_.
He has got consent frae her kin each one,
_With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay_;
But forgot to speer at her brother John,
_As the primrose spreads so sweetly_. 40
Now, when the wedding day was come,
_With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay_;
The knight would take his bonny bride home,
_As the primrose spreads so sweetly_.
And many a lord and many a knight, 45
_With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay_;
Came to behold that lady bright,
_As the primrose spreads so sweetly_.
And there was nae man that did her see,
_With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay_, 50
But wished himself bridegroom to be,
_As the primrose spreads so sweetly_.
Her father dear led her down the stair,
_With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay_;
And her sisters twain they kiss'd her there, 55
_As the primrose spreads so sweetly_.
Her mother dear led her through the close,
_With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay_;
And her brother John set her on her horse,
_As the primrose spreads so sweetly_. 60
She lean'd her o'er the saddle-bow,
_With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay_,
To give him a kiss ere she did go,
_As the primrose spreads so sweetly_.
He has ta'en a knife, baith lang and sharp, 65
_With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay_,
And stabb'd the bonny bride to the heart,
_As the primrose spreads so sweetly_.
She hadna ridden half thro' the town,
_With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay_, 70
Until her heart's blood stained her gown,
_As the primrose spreads so sweetly_.
"Ride saftly on," said the best young man,
_With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay_;
"For I think our bonny bride looks pale and wan," 75
_As the primrose spreads so sweetly_.
"O lead me gently up yon hill,
_With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay_,
And I'll there sit down, and make my will,"
_As the primrose spreads so sweetly_. 80
"O what will you leave to your father dear?"
_With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay_;
"The silver-shod steed that brought me here,"
_As the primrose spreads so sweetly_.
"What will you leave to your mother dear?" 85
_With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay_;
"My velvet pall and silken gear,"
_As the primrose spreads so sweetly_.
"And what will ye leave to your sister Ann?"
_With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay_; 90
"My silken scarf, and my golden fan,"
_As the primrose spreads so sweetly_.
"What will ye leave to your sister Grace?"
_With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay_;
"My bloody cloaths to wash and dress," 95
_As the primrose spreads so sweetly_.
"What will ye leave to your brother John?"
_With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay_;
"The gallows-tree to hang him on,"
_As the primrose spreads so sweetly_. 100
"What will ye leave to your brother John's wife?"
_With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay_;
"The wilderness to end her life,"
_As the primrose spreads so sweetly_.
This fair lady in her grave was laid, 105
_With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay_;
And a mass was o'er her said,
_As the primrose spreads so sweetly_.
But it would have made your heart right sair,
_With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay_; 110
To see the bridegroom rive his hair,
_As the primrose spreads so sweetly_.
THE CRUEL BROTHER.
From Aytoun's _Ballads of Scotland_ (2d ed.), i. 232, "taken down
from recitation." Found also, but with several stanzas wanting, in
Herd's _Scottish Songs_, i. 149. The title in both collections is
_Fine Flowers i' the Valley_. This part of the refrain is found in
one of the versions of the _Cruel Mother_, p. 269. To Herd's copy
are annexed two fragmentary stanzas with nearly the same burden as
that of the foregoing ballad.
She louted down to gie a kiss,
_With a hey and a lily gay_;
He stuck his penknife in her hass,
_And the rose it smells so sweetly_.
"Ride up, ride up," cry'd the foremost man,
_With a hey and a lily gay_;
"I think our bride looks pale and wan,"
_And the rose it smells so sweetly_.
There were three sisters in a ha',
_Fine flowers i' the valley_,
There came three lords amang them a',
_The red, green, and the yellow_.
The first o' them was clad in red, 5
_Fine flowers i' the valley_;
"O lady, will ye be my bride?"
_Wi' the red, green, and the yellow_.
The second o' them was clad in green,
_Fine flowers i' the valley_; 10
"O lady, will ye be my queen?"
_Wi' the red, green, and the yellow_.
The third o' them was clad in yellow,
_Fine flowers i' the valley_;
"O lady, will ye be my marrow?" 15
_Wi' the red, green, and the yellow_.
"O ye maun ask my father dear,"
_Fine flowers i' the valley_,
"Likewise the mother that did me bear,"
_Wi' the red, green, and the yellow_. 20
"And ye maun ask my sister Ann,"
_Fine flowers i' the valley_;
"And not forget my brother John,"
_Wi' the red, green, and the yellow_.
"O I have asked thy father dear," 25
_Fine flowers i' the valley_,
"Likewise the mother that did thee bear,"
_Wi' the red, green, and the yellow_.
"And I have asked your sister Ann,"
_Fine flowers i' the valley_; 30
"But I forgot your brother John;"
_Wi' the red, green, and the yellow_.
Now when the wedding-day was come,
_Fine flowers i' the valley_,
The knight would take his bonny bride home, 35
_Wi' the red, green, and the yellow_.
And mony a lord, and mony a knight,
_Fine flowers i' the valley_,
Cam to behold that lady bright,
_Wi' the red, green, and the yellow_. 40
There was nae man that did her see,
_Fine flowers i' the valley_,
But wished himsell bridegroom to be,
_Wi' the red, green, and the yellow_.
Her father led her down the stair, 45
_Fine flowers i' the valley_,
And her sisters twain they kissed her there,
_Wi' the red, green, and the yellow_.
Her mother led her through the close,
_Fine flowers i' the valley_; 50
Her brother John set her on her horse,
_Wi' the red, green, and the yellow_.
"You are high and I am low,"
_Fine flowers i' the valley_;
"Give me a kiss before you go," 55
_Wi' the red, green, and the yellow_.
She was louting down to kiss him sweet,
_Fine flowers i' the valley_;
When wi' his knife he wounded her deep,
_Wi' the red, green, and the yellow_. 60
She hadna ridden through half the town,
_Fine flowers i' the valley_,
Until her heart's blood stained her gown,
_Wi' the red, green, and the yellow_.
"Ride saftly on," said the best young man, 65
_Fine flowers i' the valley_;
"I think our bride looks pale and wan!"
_Wi' the red, green, and the yellow_.
"O lead me over into yon stile,"
_Fine flowers i' the valley_, 70
"That I may stop and breathe awhile,"
_Wi' the red, green, and the yellow_.
"O lead me over into yon stair,"
_Fine flowers i' the valley_,
"For there I'll lie and bleed nae mair," 75
_Wi' the red, green, and the yellow_.
"O what will you leave to your father dear?"
_Fine flowers i' the valley_;
"The siller-shod steed that brought me here,"
_Wi' the red, green, and the yellow_. 80
"What will you leave to your mother dear?"
_Fine flowers i' the valley_;
"My velvet pall, and my pearlin' gear,"
_Wi' the red, green, and the yellow_.
"What will you leave to your sister Ann?" 85
_Fine flowers i' the valley_;
"My silken gown that stands its lane,"
_Wi' the red, green, and the yellow_.
"What will you leave to your sister Grace?"
_Fine flowers i' the valley_; 90
"My bluidy shirt to wash and dress,"
_Wi' the red, green, and the yellow_.
"What will you leave to your brother John?"
_Fine flowers i' the valley_;
"The gates o' hell to let him in," 95
_Wi' the red, green, and the yellow_.
LADY ANNE.
From _Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_, iii. 18.
"This ballad was communicated to me by Mr. Kirkpatrick Sharpe of
Hoddom, who mentions having copied it from an old magazine. Although
it has probably received some modern corrections, the general turn
seems to be ancient, and corresponds with that of a fragment which I
have often heard sung in my childhood."
The version to which Sir Walter Scott refers, and part of which he
proceeds to quote, had been printed in Johnson's _Museum_. It is
placed immediately after the present, with other copies of the
ballad from Motherwell and Kinloch.
In Buchan's _Ballads of the North of Scotland_ there are two more,
which are repeated with slight variations in the XVII. Vol. of the
Percy Society, p. 46, p. 50. Both will be found in the Appendix. The
copy in Buchan's _Gleanings_, p. 90, seems to be taken from Scott.
Smith's _Scottish Minstrel_, iv. 33, affords still another variety.
In German, _Die Kindesm[:o]rderin_, Erk's _Liederhort_, No. 41, five
copies; Erlach, iv. 148; Hoffmann, _Schlesische V. L._, No. 31, 32;
_Wunderhorn_, ii. 202; Zuccalmaglio, No. 97; Meinert, No. 81;
Simrock, p. 87. (But some of these are repetitions.) Wendish, Haupt
and Schmaler, I. No. 292, and with considerable differences, I. No.
290, II. 197. This last reference is taken from Grundtvig, ii. 531.
Fair Lady Anne sate in her bower,
Down by the greenwood side,
And the flowers did spring, and the birds did sing,
'Twas the pleasant May-day tide.
But fair Lady Anne on Sir William call'd, 5
With the tear grit in her ee,
"O though thou be fause, may Heaven thee guard,
In the wars ayont the sea!"--
Out of the wood came three bonnie boys,
Upon the simmer's morn, 10
And they did sing and play at the ba',
As naked as they were born.
"O seven lang years wad I sit here,
Amang the frost and snaw,
A' to hae but ane o' these bonnie boys, 15
A playing at the ba'."--
Then up and spake the eldest boy,
"Now listen, thou fair ladie,
And ponder well the rede that I tell,
Then make ye a choice of the three. 20
"'Tis I am Peter, and this is Paul,
And that ane, sae fair to see,
But a twelve-month sinsyne to paradise came,
To join with our companie."--
"O I will hae the snaw-white boy, 25
The bonniest of the three."--
"And if I were thine, and in thy propine,
O what wad ye do to me?"--
"'Tis I wad clead thee in silk and gowd,
And nourice thee on my knee."-- 30
"O mither! mither! when I was thine,
Sic kindness I couldna see.
"Beneath the turf, where now I stand,
The fause nurse buried me;
The cruel penknife sticks still in my heart, 35
And I come not back to thee."--
* * * * * * *
FINE FLOWERS IN THE VALLEY.
From Johnson's _Musical Museum_, p. 331.
The first line of the burden is found also in _The Cruel Brother_,
p. 258.
She sat down below a thorn,
_Fine flowers in the valley_;
And there she has her sweet babe born,
_And the green leaves they grow rarely_.
"Smile na sae sweet, my bonnie babe, 5
_Fine flowers in the valley_,
And ye smile sae sweet, ye'll smile me dead,"
_And the green leaves they grow rarely_.
She's taen out her little penknife,
_Fine flowers in the valley_, 10
And twinn'd the sweet babe o' its life,
_And the green leaves they grow rarely_.
She's howket a grave by the light o' the moon,
_Fine flowers in the valley_,
And there she's buried her sweet babe in, 15
_And the green leaves they grow rarely_.
As she was going to the church,
_Fine flowers in the valley_,
She saw a sweet babe in the porch,
_And the green leaves they grow rarely_. 20
"O sweet babe, and thou were mine,
_Fine flowers in the valley_,
I wad cleed thee in the silk so fine,"
_And the green leaves they grow rarely_.
"O mother dear, when I was thine, 25
_Fine flowers in the valley_,
Ye did na prove to me sae kind,"
_And the green leaves they grow rarely_.
THE CRUEL MOTHER.
From Motherwell's _Minstrelsy_, p. 161.
She leaned her back unto a thorn,
_Three, three, and three by three_;
And there she has her two babes born,
_Three, three, and thirty-three_.
She took frae 'bout her ribbon-belt, 5
And there she bound them hand and foot.
She has ta'en out her wee penknife,
And there she ended baith their life.
She has howked a hole baith deep and wide,
She has put them in baith side by side. 10
She has covered them o'er wi' a marble stane,
Thinking she would gang maiden hame.
As she was walking by her father's castle wa',
She saw twa pretty babes playing at the ba'.
"O bonnie babes! gin ye were mine, 15
I would dress you up in satin fine!
"O I would dress you in the silk,
And wash you ay in morning milk!"
"O cruel mother! we were thine,
And thou made us to wear the twine. 20
"O cursed mother! heaven's high,
And that's where thou will ne'er win nigh.
"O cursed mother! hell is deep,
And there thou'll enter step by step."
THE CRUEL MOTHER.
From Kinloch's _Ancient Scottish Ballads_, p. 46.
Three stanzas of a Warwickshire version closely resembling Kinloch's
are given in _Notes and Queries_, vol. viii. p. 358.
There lives a lady in London--
_All alone, and alonie_;
She's gane wi' bairn to the clerk's son--
_Doun by the greenwud sae bonnie_.
She has tane her mantel her about-- 5
_All alone, and alonie_;
She's gane aff to the gude greenwud--
_Doun by the greenwud sae bonnie_.
She has set her back until an aik--
_All alone, and alonie_; 10
First it bowed, and syne it brake--
_Doun by the greenwud sae bonnie_.
She has set her back until a brier--
_All alone, and alonie_;
Bonnie were the twa boys she did bear-- 15
_Doun by the greenwud sae bonnie_.
But out she's tane a little penknife--
_All alone, and alonie_;
And she's parted them and their sweet life--
_Doun by the greenwud sae bonnie_. 20
She's aff unto her father's ha'--
_All alone, and alonie_;
She seem'd the lealest maiden amang them a'--
_Doun by the greenwud sae bonnie_.
As she lookit our the castle wa'-- 25
_All alone, and alonie_;
She spied twa bonnie boys playing at the ba'--
_Doun by the greenwud sae bonnie_.
"O an thae twa babes were mine"--
_All alone, and alonie_; 30
"They should wear the silk and the sabelline"--
_Doun by the greenwud sae bonnie_.
"O mother dear, when we were thine,"
_All alone, and alonie_;
"We neither wore the silks nor the sabelline"-- 35
_Doun by the greenwud sae bonnie_.
"But out ye took a little penknife"--
_All alone, and alonie_;
"An ye parted us and our sweet life"--
_Doun by the greenwud sae bonnie_. 40
"But now we're in the heavens hie"--
_All alone, and alonie_;
"And ye have the pains o' hell to dree"--
_Doun by the greenwud sae bonnie_.
MAY COLVIN, OR FALSE SIR JOHN.
In the very ancient though corrupted ballads of _Lady Isabel and the
Elf-Knight_, and _The Water o' Wearie's Well_ (vol. i. p. 195, 198),
an Elf or a Merman occupies the place here assigned to False Sir
John. Perhaps _May Colvin_ is the result of the same modernizing
process by which _Hynde Etin_ has been converted into _Young
Hastings the Groom_ (vol. i. p. 294, 189). The coincidence of the
name with _Clerk Colvill_, in vol. i. p. 192, may have some
significance. This, however, would not be the opinion of Grundtvig,
who regards the Norse and German ballads resembling _Lady Isabel_,
&c., as compounded of two independent stories. If this be so, then
we should rather say that a ballad similar to _May Colvin_ has been
made to furnish the conclusion to the pieces referred to.
The story of this ballad has apparently some connection with
_Bluebeard_, but it is hard to say what the connection is. (See
_Fitchers Vogel_ in the Grimms' _K. u. H.-M[:a]rchen_, No. 46, and
notes.) The versions of the ballad in other languages are all but
innumerable: e. g. _R[:o]fvaren Rymer_, _R[:o]fvaren Brun_, _Svenska
F.-V._, No. 82, 83; _Den Falske Riddaren_, Arwidsson, No. 44;
_Ulrich und Aennchen_, _Sch[:o]n Ulrich u. Roth-Aennchen_, _Sch[:o]n
Ulrich und Rautendelein_, _Ulinger_, _Herr Halewyn_, etc., in
_Wunderhorn_, i. 274; Uhland, 141-157 (four copies); Erk,
_Liederhort_, 91, 93; Erlach, iii. 450; Zuccalmaglio, _Deutsche
Volkslieder_, No. 15; Hoffmann, _Schlesische Volkslieder_, No. 12,
13, and _Niederl[:a]ndische Volkslieder_, No. 9, 10; etc. etc. A very
brief Italian ballad will be found in the Appendix, p. 391, which
seems to have the same theme. In some of the ballads the treacherous
seducer is an enchanter, who prevails upon the maid to go with him
by the power of a spell.
_May Colvin_ was first published in Herd's Collection, vol. i. 153.
The copy here given is one obtained from recitation by Motherwell,
(_Minstrelsy_, p. 67,) collated by him with that of Herd. It is
defective at the end. The other versions in Sharpe's _Ballad Book_,
p. 45, and Buchan's _Ballads of the North of Scotland_, ii. 45,
though they are provided with some sort of conclusion, are not worth
reprinting. A modernized version, styled _The Outlandish Knight_, is
inserted in the Notes to _Scottish Traditional Versions of Ancient
Ballads_, Percy Society, vol. xvii. 101.
Carlton Castle, on the coast of Carrick, is affirmed by the country
people, according to Mr. Chambers, to have been the residence of the
perfidious knight, and a precipice overhanging the sea, called
"Fause Sir John's Loup," is pointed out as the place where he was
wont to drown his wives. May Colvin is equally well ascertained to
have been "a daughter of the family of Kennedy of Colzean, now
represented by the Earl of Cassilis." Buchan's version assigns a
different locality to the transaction--that of "Binyan's Bay,"
which, says the editor, is the old name of the mouth of the river
Ugie.
False Sir John a wooing came
To a maid of beauty fair;
May Colvin was the lady's name,
Her father's only heir.
He's courted her butt, and he's courted her ben, 5
And he's courted her into the ha',
Till once he got this lady's consent
To mount and ride awa'.
She's gane to her father's coffers,
Where all his money lay; 10
And she's taken the red, and she's left the white,
And so lightly as she tripped away.
She's gane down to her father's stable,
Where all his steeds did stand;
And she's taken the best, and she's left the warst, 15
That was in her father's land.
He rode on, and she rode on,
They rode a lang simmer's day,
Until they came to a broad river,
An arm of a lonesome sea. 20
"Loup off the steed," says false Sir John;
"Your bridal bed you see;
For it's seven king's daughters I have drowned here,
And the eighth I'll out make with thee.
"Cast off, cast off your silks so fine, 25
And lay them on a stone,
For they are o'er good and o'er costly
To rot in the salt sea foam.
"Cast off, cast off your Holland smock,
And lay it on this stone, 30
For it is too fine and o'er costly
To rot in the salt sea foam."
"O turn you about, thou false Sir John,
And look to the leaf o' the tree;
For it never became a gentleman 35
A naked woman to see."
He's turn'd himself straight round about,
To look to the leaf o' the tree;
She's twined her arms about his waist,
And thrown him into the sea. 40
"O hold a grip of me, May Colvin,
For fear that I should drown;
I'll take you hame to your father's gates,
And safely I'll set you down."
"O lie you there, thou false Sir John, 45
O lie you there," said she;
"For you lie not in a caulder bed
Than the ane you intended for me."
So she went on her father's steed,
As swift as she could flee, 50
And she came hame to her father's gates
At the breaking of the day.
Up then spake the pretty parrot:
"May Colvin, where have you been?
What has become of false Sir John, 55
That wooed you so late yestreen?"
Up then spake the pretty parrot,
In the bonnie cage where it lay:
"O what hae ye done with the false Sir John,
That he behind you does stay? 60
"He wooed you butt, he wooed you ben,
He wooed you into the ha',
Until he got your own consent
For to mount and gang awa'."
"O hold your tongue, my pretty parrot, 65
Lay not the blame upon me;
Your cage will be made of the beaten gold,
And the spakes of ivorie."
Up then spake the king himself,
In the chamber where he lay: 70
"O what ails the pretty parrot,
That prattles so long ere day?"
"It was a cat cam to my cage door;
I thought 't would have worried me;
And I was calling on fair May Colvin 75
To take the cat from me."
BABYLON,
OR,
THE BONNIE BANKS O' FORDIE.
"This ballad is given from two copies obtained from recitation,
which differ but little from each other. Indeed, the only variation
is in the verse where the outlawed brother unweetingly slays his
sister. One reading is,--
'He's taken out his wee penknife,
_Hey how bonnie_;
And he's twined her o' her ain sweet life,
_On the bonnie banks o' Fordie_.'
The other reading is that adopted in the text. This ballad is
popular in the southern parishes of Perthshire: but where the scene
is laid the editor has been unable to ascertain. Nor has any
research of his enabled him to throw farther light on the history of
its hero with the fantastic name, than what the ballad itself
supplies." Motherwell's _Minstrelsy_, p. 88.
Another version is subjoined, from Kinloch's collection.
This ballad is found in Danish; _Herr Truels's Doettre_, _Danske
Viser_, No. 164. In a note the editor endeavors to show that the
story is based on fact!
There were three ladies lived in a bower,
_Eh vow bonnie_,
And they went out to pull a flower,
_On the bonnie banks o' Fordie_.
They hadna pu'ed a flower but ane, 5
_Eh vow bonnie_,
When up started to them a banisht man,
_On the bonnie banks o' Fordie_.
He's ta'en the first sister by her hand,
_Eh vow bonnie_, 10
And he's turned her round and made her stand,
_On the bonnie banks o' Fordie_.
"It's whether will ye be a rank robber's wife,
_Eh vow bonnie_,
Or will ye die by my wee penknife," 15
_On the bonnie banks o' Fordie_?
"It's I'll not be a rank robber's wife,
_Eh vow bonnie_,
But I'll rather die by your wee penknife,"
_On the bonnie banks o' Fordie_. 20
He's killed this may and he's laid her by,
_Eh vow bonnie_,
For to bear the red rose company,
_On the bonnie banks o' Fordie_.
He's taken the second ane by the hand, 25
_Eh vow bonnie_,
And he's turned her round and made her stand,
_On the bonnie banks o' Fordie_.
"It's whether will ye be a rank robber's wife,
_Eh vow bonnie_, 30
Or will ye die by my wee penknife,"
_On the bonnie banks o' Fordie_?
"I'll not be a rank robber's wife,
_Eh vow bonnie_,
But I'll rather die by your wee penknife," 35
_On the bonnie banks o' Fordie_.
He's killed this may and he's laid her by,
_Eh vow bonnie_,
For to bear the red rose company,
_On the bonnie banks o' Fordie_. 40
He's taken the youngest ane by the hand,
_Eh vow bonnie_,
And he's turned her round and made her stand,
_On the bonnie banks o' Fordie_.
Says, "Will ye be a rank robber's wife, 45
_Eh vow bonnie_,
Or will ye die by my wee penknife,"
_On the bonnie banks o' Fordie_?
"I'll not be a rank robber's wife,
_Eh vow bonnie_, 50
Nor will I die by your wee penknife,
_On the bonnie banks o' Fordie_.
"For I hae a brother in this wood,
_Eh vow bonnie_,
And gin ye kill me, it's he'll kill thee," 55
_On the bonnie banks o' Fordie_.
"What's thy brother's name? come tell to me,"
_Eh vow bonnie_;
"My brother's name is Babylon,"
_On the bonnie banks o' Fordie_. 60
"O sister, sister, what have I done,
_Eh vow bonnie_?
O have I done this ill to thee,
_On the bonnie banks o' Fordie_?
"O since I've done this evil deed, 65
_Eh vow bonnie_,
Good sall never be seen o' me,"
_On the bonnie banks o' Fordie_.
He's taken out his wee penknife,
_Eh vow bonnie_, 70
And he's twyned himsel o' his ain sweet life,
_On the bonnie banks o' Fordie_.
DUKE OF PERTH'S THREE DAUGHTERS.
From Kinloch's _Ancient Scottish Ballads_, p. 212.
The Duke o' Perth had three daughters,
Elizabeth, Margaret, and fair Marie;
And Elizabeth's to the greenwud gane,
To pu' the rose and the fair lilie.
But she hadna pu'd a rose, a rose, 5
A double rose, but barely three,
Whan up and started a Loudon lord,
Wi' Loudon hose, and Loudon sheen.
"Will ye be called a robber's wife?
Or will ye be stickit wi' my bloody knife? 10
For pu'in the rose and the fair lilie,
For pu'in them sae fair and free."
"Before I'll be called a robber's wife,
I'll rather be stickit wi' your bloody knife,
For pu'in the rose and the fair lilie, 15
For pu'in them sae fair and free."
Then out he's tane his little penknife,
And he's parted her and her sweet life,
And thrown her o'er a bank o' brume,
There never more for to be found. 20
The Duke o' Perth had three daughters,
Elizabeth, Margaret, and fair Marie;
And Margaret's to the greenwud gane,
To pu' the rose and the fair lilie.
She hadna pu'd a rose, a rose, 25
A double rose, but barely three,
When up and started a Loudon lord,
Wi' Loudon hose, and Loudon sheen.
"Will ye be called a robber's wife?
Or will ye be stickit wi' my bloody knife? 30
For pu'in the rose and the fair lilie,
For pu'in them sae fair and free."
"Before I'll be called a robber's wife,
I'll rather be sticket wi' your bloody knife,
For pu'in the rose and the fair lilie, 35
For pu'in them sae fair and free."
Then out he's tane his little penknife,
And he's parted her and her sweet life,
For pu'in the rose and the fair lilie,
For pu'in them sae fair and free. 40
The Duke o' Perth had three daughters,
Elizabeth, Margaret, and fair Marie;
And Mary's to the greenwud gane,
To pu' the rose and the fair lilie.
She hadna pu'd a rose, a rose, 45
A double rose, but barely three,
When up and started a Loudon lord,
Wi' Loudon hose, and Loudon sheen.
"O will ye be called a robber's wife?
Or will ye be stickit wi' my bloody knife? 50
For pu'in the rose and the fair lilie,
For pu'in them sae fair and free."
"Before I'll be called a robber's wife,
I'll rather be stickit wi' your bloody knife,
For pu'in the rose and the fair lilie, 55
For pu'in them sae fair and free."
But just as he took out his knife,
To tak frae her her ain sweet life,
Her brother John cam ryding bye,
And this bloody robber he did espy. 60
But when he saw his sister fair,
He kenn'd her by her yellow hair;
He call'd upon his pages three,
To find this robber speedilie.
"My sisters twa that are dead and gane, 65
For whom we made a heavy maene,
It's you that's twinn'd them o' their life,
And wi' your cruel bloody knife.
Then for their life ye sair shall dree:
Ye sall be hangit on a tree, 70
Or thrown into the poison'd lake,
To feed the toads and rattle-snake."
JELLON GRAME.
From _Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_, iii. 162.
"This ballad is published from tradition, with some conjectural
emendations. It is corrected by a copy in Mrs. Brown's MS., from
which it differs in the concluding stanzas. Some verses are
apparently modernized.
"_Jellon_ seems to be the same name with _Jyllian_, or _Julian_.
'Jyl of Brentford's Testament' is mentioned in Warton's _History of
Poetry_, vol. ii. p. 40. The name repeatedly occurs in old ballads,
sometimes as that of a man, at other times as that of a woman. Of
the former is an instance in the ballad of _The Knight and the
Shepherd's Daughter_. [See this collection, vol. iii. p. 253.]
'Some do call me Jack, sweetheart,
And some do call me _Jille_.'
"Witton Gilbert, a village four miles west of Durham, is, throughout
the bishopric, pronounced Witton Jilbert. We have also the common
name of Giles, always in Scotland pronounced Jill. For Gille, or
Juliana, as a female name, we have _Fair Gillian_ of Croyden, and a
thousand authorities. Such being the case, the Editor must enter his
protest against the conversion of _Gil_ Morrice into _Child_
Maurice, an epithet of chivalry. All the circumstances in that
ballad argue, that the unfortunate hero was an obscure and very
young man, who had never received the honour of knighthood. At any
rate there can be no reason, even were internal evidence totally
wanting, for altering a well-known proper name, which, till of late
years, has been the uniform title of the ballad." SCOTT.
_May-a-Row_, in Buchan's larger collection, ii. 231, is another, but
an inferior, version of this ballad.
O Jellon Grame sat in Silverwood,[L1]
He sharp'd his broadsword lang;
And he has call'd his little foot-page
An errand for to gang.
"Win up, my bonny boy," he says, 5
"As quickly as ye may;
For ye maun gang for Lillie Flower
Before the break of day."--
The boy has buckled his belt about,
And through the green-wood ran; 10
And he came to the ladye's bower
Before the day did dawn.
"O sleep ye, wake ye, Lillie Flower?
The red sun's on the rain:
Ye're bidden come to Silverwood, 15
But I doubt ye'll never win hame."--
She hadna ridden a mile, a mile,
A mile but barely three,
Ere she came to a new-made grave,
Beneath a green aik tree. 20
O then up started Jellon Grame,
Out of a bush thereby;
"Light down, light down, now, Lillie Flower,
For it's here that ye maun lye."--
She lighted aff her milk-white steed, 25
And kneel'd upon her knee;
"O mercy, mercy, Jellon Grame,
For I'm no prepared to die!
"Your bairn, that stirs between my sides,
Maun shortly see the light: 30
But to see it weltering in my blood,
Would be a piteous sight."--
"O should I spare your life," he says,
"Until that bairn were born,
Full weel I ken your auld father 35
Would hang me on the morn."--
"O spare my life, now, Jellon Grame!
My father ye needna dread:
I'll keep my babe in gude green-wood,
Or wi' it I'll beg my bread."-- 40
He took no pity on Lillie Flower,
Though she for life did pray;
But pierced her through the fair body
As at his feet she lay.
He felt nae pity for Lillie Flower, 45
Where she was lying dead;
But he felt some for the bonny bairn,
That lay weltering in her bluid.
Up has he ta'en that bonny boy,
Given him to nurses nine; 50
Three to sleep, and three to wake,
And three to go between.
And he bred up that bonny boy,
Call'd him his sister's son;
And he thought no eye could ever see 55
The deed that he had done.
O so it fell upon a day,
When hunting they might be,
They rested them in Silverwood,
Beneath that green aik tree. 60
And many were the green-wood flowers
Upon the grave that grew,
And marvell'd much that bonny boy
To see their lovely hue.
"What's paler than the prymrose wan? 65
What's redder than the rose?
What's fairer than the lilye flower
On this wee know that grows?"--
O out and answer'd Jellon Grame,
And he spak hastilie-- 70
"Your mother was a fairer flower,
And lies beneath this tree.
"More pale she was, when she sought my grace,
Than prymrose pale and wan;
And redder than rose her ruddy heart's blood, 75
That down my broadsword ran."--
Wi' that the boy has bent his bow,
It was baith stout and lang;
An thro' and thro' him, Jellon Grame,
He gar'd an arrow gang. 80
Says,--"Lie ye there, now, Jellon Grame!
My malisoun gang you wi'!
The place that my mother lies buried in
Is far too good for thee."
1. Silverwood, mentioned in this ballad, occurs in a medley MS.
song, which seems to have been copied from the first edition of the
Aberdeen Cantus, _penes_ John G. Dalyell, Esq. advocate. One line
only is cited, apparently the beginning of some song:--
"Silverwood, gin ye were mine." SCOTT.
YOUNG JOHNSTONE.
A fragment of this fine ballad (which is commonly called _The Cruel
Knight_) was published by Herd, (i. 222,) and also by Pinkerton,
(_Select Scottish Ballads_, i. 69,) with variations. Finlay
constructed a nearly complete edition from two recited copies, but
suppressed some lines. (_Scottish Ballads_, ii. 72.) The present
copy is one which Motherwell obtained from recitation, with a few
verbal emendations by that editor from Finlay's.
With respect to the sudden and strange catastrophe, Motherwell
remarks:--
"The reciters of old ballads frequently supply the best commentaries
upon them, when any obscurity or want of connection appears in the
poetical narrative. This ballad, as it stands, throws no light on
young Johnstone's motive for stabbing his lady; but the person from
whose lips it was taken down alleged that the barbarous act was
committed unwittingly, through young Johnstone's suddenly waking
from sleep, and, in that moment of confusion and alarm, unhappily
mistaking his mistress for one of his pursuers. It is not improbable
but the ballad may have had, at one time, a stanza to the above
effect, the substance of which is still remembered, though the words
in which it was couched have been forgotten." _Minstrelsy_, p. 193.
Buchan's version, (_Lord John's Murder_, ii. 20,) it will be seen,
supplies this deficiency.
Young Johnstone and the young Col'nel
Sat drinking at the wine:
"O gin ye wad marry my sister,
It's I wad marry thine."
"I wadna marry your sister, 5
For a' your houses and land;
But I'll keep her for my leman,
When I come o'er the strand.
"I wadna marry your sister,
For a' your gowd so gay; 10
But I'll keep her for my leman,
When I come by the way."
Young Johnstone had a nut-brown sword,
Hung low down by his gair,
And he ritted[L15] it through the young Col'nel, 15
That word he ne'er spak mair.
But he's awa' to his sister's bower,
He's tirled at the pin:
"Whare hae ye been, my dear brither,
Sae late a coming in?" 20
"I hae been at the school, sister,
Learning young clerks to sing."
"I've dreamed a dreary dream this night,
I wish it may be for good;
They were seeking you with hawks and hounds, 25
And the young Col'nel was dead."
"Hawks and hounds they may seek me,
As I trow well they be;
For I have killed the young Col'nel,
And thy own true love was he." 30
"If ye hae killed the young Col'nel,
O dule and wae is me;
But I wish ye may be hanged on a hie gallows,
And hae nae power to flee."
And he's awa' to his true love's bower, 35
He's tirled at the pin:
"Whar hae ye been, my dear Johnstone,
Sae late a coming in?"
"It's I hae been at the school," he says,
"Learning young clerks to sing." 40
"I have dreamed a dreary dream," she says,
"I wish it may be for good;
They were seeking you with hawks and hounds,
And the young Col'nel was dead."
"Hawks and hounds they may seek me, 45
As I trow well they be;
For I hae killed the young Col'nel,
And thy ae brother was he."
"If ye hae killed the young Col'nel,
O dule and wae is me; 50
But I care the less for the young Col'nel,
If thy ain body be free.
"Come in, come in, my dear Johnstone,
Come in and take a sleep;
And I will go to my casement, 55
And carefully I will thee keep."
He had not weel been in her bower door,
No not for half an hour,
When four-and-twenty belted knights
Came riding to the bower. 60
"Well may you sit and see, Lady,
Well may you sit and say;
Did you not see a bloody squire
Come riding by this way?"
"What colour were his hawks?" she says, 65
"What colour were his hounds?
What colour was the gallant steed
That bore him from the bounds?"
"Bloody, bloody were his hawks,
And bloody were his hounds; 70
But milk-white was the gallant steed
That bore him from the bounds."
"Yes, bloody, bloody were his hawks,
And bloody were his hounds;
And milk-white was the gallant steed 75
That bore him from the bounds.
"Light down, light down now, gentlemen,
And take some bread and wine;
And the steed be swift that he rides on,
He's past the brig o' Lyne." 80
"We thank you for your bread, fair Lady,
We thank you for your wine;
But I wad gie thrice three thousand pound,
That bloody knight was ta'en."
"Lie still, lie still, my dear Johnstone, 85
Lie still and take a sleep;
For thy enemies are past and gone,
And carefully I will thee keep."
But young Johnstone had a little wee sword,
Hung low down by his gair, 90
And he stabbed it in fair Annet's breast,
A deep wound and a sair.
"What aileth thee now, dear Johnstone?
What aileth thee at me?
Hast thou not got my father's gold, 95
Bot and my mither's fee?"[L96]
"Now live, now live, my dear Ladye,
Now live but half an hour,
And there's no a leech in a' Scotland
But shall be in thy bower." 100
"How can I live, how shall I live?
Young Johnstone, do not you see
The red, red drops o' my bonny heart's blood
Rin trinkling down my knee?
"But take thy harp into thy hand, 105
And harp out owre yon plain,
And ne'er think mair on thy true love
Than if she had never been."
He hadna weel been out o' the stable,
And on his saddle set, 110
Till four-and-twenty broad arrows
Were thrilling in his heart.
15. In the copy obtained by the Editor, the word "ritted" did not
occur, instead of which the word "stabbed" was used. The "nut-brown
sword" was also changed into "a little small sword." MOTHERWELL.
96. Buchan's version furnishes the necessary explanation of Young
Johnstone's apparent cruelty:--
"Ohon, alas, my lady gay,
To come sae hastili['e]!
I thought it was my deadly foe,
Ye had trysted in to me."
YOUNG BENJIE.
From the _Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_, iii. 10. _Bondsey and
Maisry_, another version of the same story, from Buchan's
collection, is given in the Appendix.
"In this ballad the reader will find traces of a singular
superstition, not yet altogether discredited in the wilder parts of
Scotland. The lykewake, or watching a dead body, in itself a
melancholy office, is rendered, in the idea of the assistants, more
dismally awful, by the mysterious horrors of superstition. In the
interval betwixt death and interment, the disembodied spirit is
supposed to hover round its mortal habitation, and, if invoked by
certain rites, retains the power of communicating, through its
organs, the cause of its dissolution. Such inquiries, however, are
always dangerous, and never to be resorted to, unless the deceased
is suspected to have suffered _foul play_, as it is called. It is
the more unsafe to tamper with this charm in an unauthorized manner,
because the inhabitants of the infernal regions are, at such
periods, peculiarly active. One of the most potent ceremonies in the
charm, for causing the dead body to speak, is, setting the door
ajar, or half open. On this account, the peasants of Scotland
sedulously avoid leaving the door ajar, while a corpse lies in the
house. The door must either be left wide open, or quite shut; but
the first is always preferred, on account of the exercise of
hospitality usual on such occasions. The attendants must be likewise
careful never to leave the corpse for a moment alone, or, if it is
left alone, to avoid, with a degree of superstitious horror, the
first sight of it.
"The following story, which is frequently related by the peasants of
Scotland, will illustrate the imaginary danger of leaving the door
ajar. In former times, a man and his wife lived in a solitary
cottage, on one of the extensive Border fells. One day the husband
died suddenly; and his wife, who was equally afraid of staying alone
by the corpse, or leaving the dead body by itself, repeatedly went
to the door, and looked anxiously over the lonely moor for the sight
of some person approaching. In her confusion and alarm she
accidentally left the door ajar, when the corpse suddenly started
up, and sat in the bed, frowning and grinning at her frightfully.
She sat alone, crying bitterly, unable to avoid the fascination of
the dead man's eye, and too much terrified to break the sullen
silence, till a Catholic priest, passing over the wild, entered the
cottage. He first set the door quite open, then put his little
finger in his mouth, and said the paternoster backwards; when the
horrid look of the corpse relaxed, it fell back on the bed, and
behaved itself as a dead man ought to do.
"The ballad is given from tradition. I have been informed by a lady,
[Miss Joanna Baillie,] of the highest literary eminence, that she
has heard a ballad on the same subject, in which the scene was laid
upon the banks of the Clyde. The chorus was,
"O Bothwell banks bloom bonny,"
and the watching of the dead corpse was said to have taken place in
Bothwell church." SCOTT.
Of a' the maids o' fair Scotland,
The fairest was Marjorie;
And young Benjie was her ae true love,
And a dear true love was he.
And wow but they were lovers dear, 5
And loved fu' constantlie;
But aye the mair when they fell out,
The sairer was their plea.
And they hae quarrell'd on a day,
Till Marjorie's heart grew wae; 10
And she said she'd chuse another luve,
And let young Benjie gae.
And he was stout, and proud-hearted,
And thought o't bitterlie;
And he's gane by the wan moonlight, 15
To meet his Marjorie.
"O open, open, my true love,
O open, and let me in!"--
"I darena open, young Benjie,
My three brothers are within."-- 20
"Ye lied, ye lied, ye bonny burd,
Sae loud's I hear ye lie;
As I came by the Lowden banks,
They bade gude e'en to me.
"But fare ye weel, my ae fause love, 25
That I have loved sae lang!
It sets ye chuse another love,
And let young Benjie gang."--
Then Marjorie turn'd her round about,
The tear blinding her ee,-- 30
"I darena, darena let thee in,
But I'll come down to thee."--
Then saft she smiled, and said to him,
"O what ill hae I done?"--
He took her in his armis twa, 35
And threw her o'er the linn.
The stream was strang, the maid was stout,
And laith, laith to be dang,
But, ere she wan the Lowden banks,
Her fair colour was wan. 40
Then up bespak her eldest brother,
"O see na ye what I see?"--
And out then spak her second brother,
"It's our sister Marjorie!"--
Out then spak her eldest brother, 45
"O how shall we her ken?"--
And out then spak her youngest brother,
"There's a honey mark on her chin."--
Then they've ta'en up the comely corpse,
And laid it on the ground: 50
"O wha has killed our ae sister,
And how can he be found?
"The night it is her low lykewake,
The morn her burial day,
And we maun watch at mirk midnight, 55
And hear what she will say."--
Wi' doors ajar, and candle light,
And torches burning clear,
The streikit corpse, till still midnight,
They waked, but naething hear. 60
About the middle o' the night,
The cocks began to craw;
And at the dead hour o' the night,
The corpse began to thraw.
"O whae has done the wrang, sister, 65
Or dared the deadly sin?
Whae was sae stout, and fear'd nae dout,
As thraw ye o'er the linn?"
"Young Benjie was the first ae man
I laid my love upon; 70
He was sae stout and proud-hearted,
He threw me o'er the linn."--
"Sall we young Benjie head, sister,
Sall we young Benjie hang,
Or sall we pike out his twa gray een, 75
And punish him ere he gang?"
"Ye maunna Benjie head, brothers,
Ye maunna Benjie hang,
But ye maun pike out his twa gray een,
And punish him ere he gang. 80
"Tie a green gravat round his neck,
And lead him out and in,
And the best ae servant about your house
To wait young Benjie on.
"And aye, at every seven years' end, 85
Ye'l tak him to the linn;
For that's the penance he maun dree,
To scug his deadly sin."
APPENDIX.
LORD BARNABY.
Scottish version of _Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard_. See p. 15.
From Jamieson's _Popular Ballads and Songs_, i. 170.
"I have a tower in Dalisberry,
Which now is dearly dight,
And I will gie it to young Musgrave
To lodge wi' me a' night."
"To lodge wi' thee a' night, fair lady, 5
Wad breed baith sorrow and strife;
For I see by the rings on your fingers,
You're good lord Barnaby's wife."
"Lord Barnaby's wife although I be,
Yet what is that to thee? 10
For we'll beguile him for this ae night--
He's on to fair Dundee.
"Come here, come here, my little foot-page,
This gold I will give thee,
If ye will keep thir secrets close 15
'Tween young Musgrave and me.
"But here I hae a little pen-knife,
Hings low down by my gare;
Gin ye winna keep thir secrets close,
Ye'll find it wonder sair." 20
Then she's ta'en him to her chamber,
And down in her arms lay he:
The boy coost aff his hose and shoon,
And ran to fair Dundee.
When he cam to the wan water, 25
He slack'd[L26] his bow and swam;
And when he cam to growin grass,
Set down his feet and ran.
And when he cam to fair Dundee,
Wad neither chap nor ca'; 30
But set his brent[L31] bow to his breast,
And merrily jump'd the wa'.
"O waken ye, waken ye, my good lord,
Waken, and come away!"--
"What ails, what ails my wee foot-page, 35
He cries sae lang ere day.
"O is my bowers brent, my boy?
Or is my castle won?
Or has the lady that I lo'e best
Brought me a daughter or son?" 40
"Your ha's are safe, your bowers are safe,
And free frae all alarms;
But, oh! the lady that ye lo'e best
Lies sound in Musgrave's arms."
"Gae saddle to me the black," he cried, 45
"Gae saddle to me the gray;
Gae saddle to me the swiftest steed,
To hie me on my way."
"O lady, I heard a wee horn toot,
And it blew wonder clear; 50
And ay the turning o' the note,
Was, 'Barnaby will be here!'
"I thought I heard a wee horn blaw,
And it blew loud and high;
And ay at ilka turn it said, 55
'Away, Musgrave, away!'"
"Lie still, my dear; lie still, my dear;
Ye keep me frae the cold;
For it is but my father's shepherds
Driving their flocks to the fold." 60
Up they lookit, and down they lay,
And they're fa'en sound asleep;
Till up stood good lord Barnaby,
Just close at their bed feet.
"How do you like my bed, Musgrave? 65
And how like ye my sheets?
And how like ye my fair lady,
Lies in your arms and sleeps?
"Weel like I your bed, my lord,
And weel like I your sheets; 70
But ill like I your fair lady,
Lies in my arms and sleeps.
"You got your wale o' se'en sisters,
And I got mine o' five;
Sae tak ye mine, and I's tak thine, 75
And we nae mair sall strive."
"O my woman's the best woman
That ever brak world's bread;
And your woman's the worst woman
That ever drew coat o'er head. 80
"I hae twa swords in ae scabbert,
They are baith sharp and clear;
Take ye the best, and I the warst,
And we'll end the matter here.
"But up, and arm thee, young Musgrave, 85
We'll try it han' to han';
It's ne'er be said o' lord Barnaby,
He strack at a naked man."
The first straik that young Musgrave got,
It was baith deep and sair; 90
And down he fell at Barnaby's feet,
And word spak never mair.
* * * * * *
"A grave, a grave!" lord Barnaby cried,
"A grave to lay them in;
My lady shall lie on the sunny side, 95
Because of her noble kin."
But oh, how sorry was that good lord,
For a' his angry mood,
Whan he beheld his ain young son
All welt'ring in his blood! 100
26. For _slack'd_ read _bent_. J.
[NOTE.] [In v. 31] the term "_braid_ bow" has been altered by the
editor into "_brent_ bow," i. e. _straight_, or _unbent_ bow. In
most of the old ballads, where a page is employed as the bearer of a
message, we are told, that,
"When he came to wan water,
He _bent_ his bow and swam;"
And
"He set his _bent_ bow to his breast,
And lightly lap the wa'," &c.
The application of the term _bent_, in the latter instance, does not
seem correct, and is probably substituted for _brent_.
In the establishment of a feudal baron, every thing wore a military
aspect; he was a warrior by profession; every man attached to him,
particularly those employed about his person, was a soldier; and his
little foot-page was very appropriately equipped in the light
accoutrements of an archer. His bow, in the old ballad, seems as
inseparable from his character as the bow of Cupid or of Apollo, or
the caduceus of his celestial prototype Mercury. This bow, which he
carried unbent, he seems to have _bent_ when he had occasion to
swim, in order that he might the more easily carry it in his teeth,
to prevent the string from being injured by getting wet. At other
times he availed himself of its length and elasticity in the
_brent_, or straight state, and used it (as hunters do a leaping
pole) in vaulting over the wall of the outer court of a castle, when
his business would not admit of the tedious formality of blowing a
horn, or ringing a bell, and holding a long parley with the porter
at the gate, before he could gain admission. This, at least, appears
to the editor to be the meaning of these passages in the old
ballads. JAMIESON.
CHILDE MAURICE. See p. 30.
From Jamieson's _Popular Ballads and Songs_, i. 8.
Childe Maurice hunted i' the silver[L1] wood,
He hunted it round about,
And noebody yt he found theren,
Nor noebody without.
* * * * * * *
* * * * * * *
And tooke his silver combe in his hand 5
To kembe his yellow lockes.
He sayes, "come hither, thou litle footpage,
That runneth lowly by my knee;
Ffor thou shalt goe to John Steward's wiffe,
And pray her speake with mee. 10
"And as it ffalls out,[L11] many times
As knotts been knitt on a kell,
Or merchant men gone to leeve London,
Either to buy ware or sell,
* * * * * * *
* * * * * * *
And grete thou doe that ladye well, 15
Ever soe well ffroe mee.
"And as it ffalls out, many times
As any harte can thinke,
As schoole masters are in any schoole house,
Writting with pen and inke, 20
* * * * * * *
* * * * * * *
Ffor if I might as well as shee may,
This night I wold with her speake.
"And heere I send a mantle of greene,
As greene as any grasse,
And bid her come to the silver wood,[L25] 25
To hunt with Child Maurice.
"And there I send her a ring of gold,
A ring of precyous stone;
And bid her come to the silver wood,
Let for no kind of man." 30
One while this litle boy he yode,
Another while he ran;
Until he came to John Steward's hall,
Iwis he never blan.
And of nurture the child had good; 35
He ran up hall and bower ffree,
And when he came to this lady ffaire,
Sayes, "God you save and see.
"I am come ffrom Childe Maurice,
A message unto thee, 40
And Childe Maurice he greetes you well,
And ever soe well ffrom me.
"And as it ffalls out, oftentimes
As knotts been knitt on a kell,
Or merchant men gone to leeve London 45
Either to buy or sell;
"And as oftentimes he greetes you well,
As any hart can thinke,
Or schoolemaster in any schoole,
Wryting with pen and inke. 50
"And heere he sends a mantle of greene,
As greene as any grasse,
And he bidds you come to the silver wood,
To hunt with child Maurice.
"And heere he sends you a ring of gold, 55
A ring of precyous stone;
He prayes you to come to the silver wood,
Let for no kind of man."
"Now peace, now peace, thou litle fotpage,
Ffor Christes sake I pray thee; 60
Ffor if my lord heare one of those words,
Thou must be hanged hye."
John Steward stood under the castle wall,
And he wrote the words every one;
* * * * * * *
* * * * * * *
And he called unto his horssekeeper, 65
"Make ready you my steede;"
And soe he did to his chamberlaine,
"Make readye then my weed."
And he cast a lease upon his backe,
And he rode to the silver wood, 70
And there he sought all about,
About the silver wood.
And there he found him Childe Maurice,
Sitting upon a blocke,
With a silver combe in his hand, 75
Kembing his yellow locke.
He sayes, "how now, how now, Childe Maurice,
Alacke how may this bee?"
But then stood by him Childe Maurice,
And sayd these words trulye: 80
"I do not know your ladye," he said,
"If that I doe her see."
"Ffor thou hast sent her love tokens,
More now than two or three.
"For thou hast sent her a mantle of greene, 85
As greene as any grasse,
And bade her come to the silver wood,
To hunt with Childe Maurice.
"And by my faith now, Childe Maurice,
The tane of us shall dye;" 90
"Now by my troth," sayd Childe Maurice,
"And that shall not be I."
But he pulled out a bright browne sword,
And dryed it on the grasse,
And soe fast he smote at John Steward, 95
Iwis he never rest.
Then hee pulled forth his bright browne sword,
And dryed itt on his sleeve,
And the ffirst good stroke John Steward stroke,
Child Maurice head he did cleeve. 100
And he pricked it on his swords poynt,
Went singing there beside,
And he rode till he came to the ladye ffaire,
Whereas his ladye lyed.
And sayes, "dost thou know Child Maurice head, 105
Iff that thou dost it see?
And llap it soft, and kisse itt offt,
Ffor thou lovedst him better than mee."
But when shee looked on Child Maurice head,
Shee never spake words but three: 110
"I never beare noe child but one,
And you have slain him trulye."
Sayes, "wicked be my merry men all,
I gave meate, drinke, and clothe;
But cold they not have holden me, 115
When I was in all that wrath!
"Ffor I have slaine one of the courteousest knights
That ever bestrode a steede;
Soe have I done one of the fairest ladyes
That ever ware womans weede." 120
1. MS. silven. See vv. 25, 53, 70, 72.
11. out out.
25. Sic in MS.
CLERK SAUNDERS. See p. 45.
From Jamieson's _Popular Ballads and Songs_, i. 83.
"The following copy was transmitted by Mrs. Arrott of Aberbrothick.
The stanzas, where the seven brothers are introduced, have been
enlarged from two fragments, which, although very defective in
themselves, furnished lines which, when incorporated with the text,
seemed to improve it. Stanzas 21 and 22, were written by the editor;
the idea of the _rose_ being suggested by the gentleman who recited,
but who could not recollect the language in which it was expressed."
This copy of _Clerk Saunders_ bears traces of having been made up
from several sources. A portion of the concluding stanzas (v.
107-130) have a strong resemblance to the beginning and end of
_Proud Lady Margaret_ (vol. viii. 83, 278), which ballad is itself
in a corrupt condition. It may also be doubted whether the fragments
Jamieson speaks of did not belong to a ballad resembling _Lady
Maisry_, p. 78 of this volume.
Accepting the ballad as it stands here, there is certainly likeness
enough in the first part to suggest a community of origin with the
Swedish ballad _Den Grymma Brodern_, _Svenska Folk-Visor_, No. 86
(translated in _Lit. and Rom. of Northern Europe_, p. 261). W. Grimm
mentions (_Altd[:a]n. Heldenl._, p. 519) a Spanish ballad, _De la Blanca
Ni[~n]a_, in the _Romancero de Amberes_, in which the similarity to _Den
Grymma Brodern_ is very striking. The series of questions (v. 30-62)
sometimes appears apart from the story, and with a comic turn, as in
_Det Hurtige Svar_, _Danske V._, No. 204, or _Thore och hans Syster_,
Arwidsson, i. 358. In this shape they closely resemble the familiar old
song, _Our gudeman came hame at e'en_, Herd, _Scottish Songs_, ii. 74.
Clerk Saunders was an earl's son,
He liv'd upon sea-sand;
May Margaret was a king's daughter,
She liv'd in upper land.
Clerk Saunders was an earl's son, 5
Weel learned at the scheel;
May Margaret was a king's daughter;
They baith lo'ed ither weel.
He's throw the dark, and throw the mark,
And throw the leaves o' green; 10
Till he came to May Margaret's door,
And tirled at the pin.
"O sleep ye, wake ye, May Margaret,
Or are ye the bower within?"
"O wha is that at my bower door, 15
Sae weel my name does ken?"
"It's I, Clerk Saunders, your true love,
You'll open and lat me in.
"O will ye to the cards, Margaret,
Or to the table to dine? 20
Or to the bed, that's weel down spread,
And sleep when we get time."
"I'll no go to the cards," she says,
"Nor to the table to dine;
But I'll go to a bed, that's weel down spread, 25
And sleep when we get time."
They were not weel lyen down,
And no weel fa'en asleep,
When up and stood May Margaret's brethren,
Just up at their bed feet. 30
"O tell us, tell us, May Margaret,
And dinna to us len,
O wha is aught yon noble steed,
That stands your stable in?
"The steed is mine, and it may be thine, 35
To ride whan ye ride in hie----
* * * * * * *
"But awa', awa', my bald brethren,
Awa', and mak nae din;
For I am as sick a lady the nicht
As e'er lay a bower within." 40
"O tell us, tell us, May Margaret,
And dinna to us len,
O wha is aught yon noble hawk,
That stands your kitchen in?"
"The hawk is mine, and it may be thine, 45
To hawk whan ye hawk in hie----
* * * * * * *
"But awa', awa', my bald brethren!
Awa', and mak nae din;
For I'm ane o' the sickest ladies this nicht
That e'er lay a bower within." 50
"O tell us, tell us, May Margaret,
And dinna to us len,
O wha is that, May Margaret,
You and the wa' between?"
"O it is my bower-maiden," she says, 55
"As sick as sick can be;
O it is my bower maiden," she says,
And she's thrice as sick as me."
"We hae been east, and we've been west,
And low beneath the moon; 60
But a' the bower-women e'er we saw
Hadna goud buckles in their shoon."
Then up and spak her eldest brither,
Ay in ill time spak he:
"It is Clerk Saunders, your true love, 65
And never mat I the,
But for this scorn that he has done,
This moment he sall die."
But up and spak her youngest brother,
Ay in good time spak he: 70
"O but they are a gudelie pair!--
True lovers an ye be,
The sword that hangs at my sword belt
Sall never sinder ye!"
Syne up and spak her nexten brother, 75
And the tear stood in his ee:
"You've lo'ed her lang, and lo'ed her weel,
And pity it wad be,
The sword that hangs at my sword-belt
Shoud ever sinder ye!" 80
But up and spak her fifthen brother,
"Sleep on your sleep for me;
But we baith sall never sleep again,
For the tane o' us sall die!"
[But up and spak her midmaist brother; 85
And an angry laugh leugh he:
"The thorn that dabs, I'll cut it down,
Though fair the rose may be.
"The flower that smell'd sae sweet yestreen
Has lost its bloom wi' thee; 90
And though I'm wae it should be sae,
Clerk Saunders, ye maun die."]
And up and spak her thirden brother,
Ay in ill time spak he:
"Curse on his love and comeliness!-- 95
Dishonour'd as ye be,
The sword that hangs at my sword-belt
Sall quickly sinder ye!"
Her eldest brother has drawn his sword;
Her second has drawn anither; 100
Between Clerk Saunders' hause and collar bane
The cald iron met thegither.
"O wae be to you, my fause brethren,
And an ill death mat ye die!
Ye mith slain Clerk Saunders in open field, 105
And no in the bed wi' me."
When seven years were come and gane,
Lady Margaret she thought lang;
And she is up to the hichest tower,
By the lee licht o' the moon. 110
She was lookin o'er her castle high,
To see what she might fa';
And there she saw a grieved ghost
Comin waukin o'er the wa'.[L114]
"O are ye a man of mean," she says, 115
"Seekin ony o' my meat?
Or are you a rank robber,
Come in my bower to break?"
"O I'm Clerk Saunders, your true love;
Behold, Margaret, and see, 120
And mind, for a' your meikle pride,
Sae will become of thee."
"Gin ye be Clerk Saunders, my true love,
This meikle marvels me:
O wherein is your bonny arms 125
That wont to embrace me?"
"By worms they're eaten, in mools they're rotten,
Behold, Margaret, and see;
And mind, for a' your mickle pride,
Sae will become o' thee!" 130
* * * * * * *
O, bonny, bonny sang the bird,
Sat on the coil o' hay;
But dowie, dowie was the maid,
That follow'd the corpse o' clay.
"Is there ony room at your head, Saunders, 135
Is there ony room at your feet?
Is there ony room at your twa sides,
For a lady to lie and sleep?"
"There is nae room at my head, Margaret,
As little at my feet; 140
There is nae room at my twa sides,
For a lady to lie and sleep.
"But gae hame, gae hame, now, May Margaret,
Gae hame and sew your seam;
For if ye were laid in your weel-made bed, 145
Your days will nae be lang."
114. The _wa'_ here is supposed to mean the wall, which, in some
old castles, surrounded the court. J.
LORD WA'YATES AND AULD INGRAM.
A FRAGMENT. See p. 72.
Jamieson's _Popular Ballads_, ii. 265.
"From Mr. Herd's MS., transmitted by Mr. Scott."
Lady Maisery was a lady fair,
She made her mother's bed;
Auld Ingram was an aged knight,
And her he sought to wed.
"Its I forbid ye, auld Ingram, 5
For to seek me to spouse;
For Lord Wa'yates, your sister's son,
Has been into my bowers.
"Its I forbid ye, auld Ingram,
For to seek me to wed; 10
For Lord Wa'yates, your sister's son,
Has been into my bed."
He has brocht to this ladie
The robis of the brown;
And ever, "Alas!" says this ladie, 15
"Thae robes will put me down."
And he has brocht to that ladie
The robis of the red;
And ever, "Alas!" says that ladie,
"Thae robes will be my dead." 20
And he has brocht to that ladie
The chrystal and the laumer;
Sae has he brocht to her mither
The curches o' the cannel.
Every ane o' her seven brethren 25
They had a hawk in hand,
And every lady in the place
They got a goud garland.
Every cuik in that kitchen
They got a noble claith; 30
A' was blyth at auld Ingram's coming,
But Lady Maisery was wraith.
"Whare will I get a bonny boy,
Wad fain win hose and shoon,
That wad rin on to my Wa'yates, 35
And quickly come again?"
"Here am I, a bonny boy,
Wad fain win hose and shoon;
Wha will rin on to your Wa'yates,
And quickly come again." 40
"Ye'll bid him, and ye'll pray him baith,
Gin ony prayer may dee,
To Marykirk to come the morn,
My weary wadding to see."
Lord Wa'yates lay o'er his castle wa', 45
Beheld baith dale and down;
And he beheld a bonny boy
Come running to the town.
"What news, what news, ye bonny boy?
What news hae ye to me? 50
* * * * * * *
* * * * * * *
"O are my ladie's fauldis brunt,
Or are her towers won?
Or is my Maisery lichter yet
O' a dear dochter or son?"
"Your ladie's faulds are neither brunt, 55
Nor are her towers won;
Nor is your Maisery lichter yet
O' a dear dochter or son:
"But she bids you, and she prays you baith,
Gin ony prayer can dee, 60
To Mary Kirk to come the morn,
Her weary wadding to see."
He dang the buird up wi' his fit,
Sae did he wi' his knee;
The silver cup, that was upon't, 65
I' the fire he gar'd it flee:
"O whatten a lord in a' Scotland
Dare marry my Maisery?
"O it is but a feeble thocht,
To tell the tane and nae the tither; 70
O it is but a feeble thocht
To tell it's your ain mither's brither."
"Its I will send to that wadding,
And I will follow syne,
The fitches o' the fallow deer, 75
And the gammons o' the swine;
And the nine hides o' the noble cow--
'Twas slain in season time.
"Its I will send to that wadding
Ten tun o' the red wine; 80
And mair I'll send to that waddin',
And I will follow syne."
Whan he came in into the ha',
Lady Maisery she did ween;
And twenty times he kist her mou', 85
Afore auld Ingram's een.
And till the kirk she wadna gae,
Nor tillt she wadna ride,
Till four-and-twenty men she gat her before,
And twenty on ilka side, 90
And four-and-twenty milk white dows,
To flee aboon her head.
A loud lauchter gae Lord Wa'yates,
'Mang the mids o' his men;
"Marry that lady wha that will, 95
A maiden she is nane."
"O leuch ye at my men, Wa'yates,
Or did ye lauch at me?
Or leuch ye at the bierdly bride,
That's gaun to marry me?" 100
"I leuchna at your men, uncle,
Nor yet leuch I at thee;
But I leuch at my lands so braid,
Sae weel's I do them see."