42_The English and Scottish popular ballads, volume 1 (of 5)

'O lie thee down, my fair ladie,

Here are a' things meet for thee;

'Here's a bolster for yere head,

Here is sheets an comelie weids.'

* * * * * * *

'Now tell to me, ye Billie Blin,

If this fair dame be a leal maiden.'

'I wat she is as leal a wight

As the moon shines on in a simmer night.

'I wat she is as leal a may

As the sun shines on in a simmer day.

'But your bonnie bride's in her bower,

Dreeing the mither's trying hour.'

Then out o his bridal bed he sprang,

An into his mither's bower he ran.

'O mither kind, O mither dear,

This is nae a maiden fair.

'The maiden I took to my bride

Has a bairn atween her sides.

'The maiden I took to my bower

Is dreeing the mither's trying hour.'

Then to the chamber his mother flew,

And to the wa the door she threw.

She stapt at neither bolt nor ban,

Till to that ladie's bed she wan.

Says, 'Ladie fair, sae meek an mild,

Wha is the father o yere child?'

'O mither dear,' said that ladie,

'I canna tell gif I sud die.

'We were sisters, we were seven,

We were the fairest under heaven.

'And it was a' our seven years wark

To sew our father's seven sarks.

'And whan our seven years wark was done,

We laid it out upon the green.

'We coost the lotties us amang,

Wha wad to the greenwode gang;

'To pu the lily but an the rose,

To strew witha' our sisters' bowers.

..... 'I was youngest,

..... my weer was hardest.

'And to the greenwode I bu[d] gae.

. . . . . . .

'There I met a handsome childe,

. . . . . . .

'Wi laigh-coled stockings and high-coled shoon,

He seemed to be some king's son.

'And was I weel or was I wae,

He keepit me a' the simmer day.

'Though for my hame-gaun I oft sicht,

He keepit me a' the simmer night.

'He gae to me a gay gold ring,

An bade me keep it aboon a' thing;

'Three lauchters o his yellow hair,

For fear that we suld neer meet mair.

'O mither, if ye'll believe nae me,

Break up the coffer, an there ye'll see.'

An ay she coost, an ay she flang,

Till her ain gowd ring came in her hand.

And scarce aught i the coffer she left,

Till she gat the knife wi the siller heft,

Three lauchters o his yellow hair,

Knotted wi ribbons dink and rare.

She cried to her son, 'Where is the ring

Your father gave me at our wooing,

An I gae you at your hunting?

'What did ye wi the cuttie knife,

I bade ye keep it as yere life?'

'O haud yere tongue, my mither dear;

I gae them to a lady fair.

'I wad gie a' my lands and rents,

I had that ladie within my brents.

'I wad gie a' my lands an towers,

I had that ladie within my bowers.'

'Keep still yere lands, keep still yere rents;

Ye hae that ladie within yere brents.

'Keep still yere lands, keep still yere towers;

Ye hae that lady within your bowers.'

Then to his ladie fast ran he,

An low he kneeled on his knee.

'O tauk ye up my son,' said he,

'An, mither, tent my fair ladie.

'O wash him purely i the milk,

And lay him saftly in the silk.

'An ye maun bed her very soft,

For I maun kiss her wondrous oft.'

It was weel written on his breast-bane

Childe Branton was the father's name.

It was weel written on his right hand

He was the heir o his daddie's land.

Buchan's Ancient Ballads and Songs of the North of

Scotland, I, 204.

We were sisters, sisters seven,

Bowing down, bowing down

The fairest women under heaven.

And aye the birks a-bowing

They kiest kevels them amang,

Wha woud to the grenewood gang.

The kevels they gied thro the ha,

And on the youngest it did fa.

Now she must to the grenewood gang,

To pu the nuts in grenewood hang.

She hadna tarried an hour but ane

Till she met wi a highlan groom.

He keeped her sae late and lang

Till the evening set and birds they sang.

He gae to her at their parting

A chain o gold and gay gold ring;

And three locks o his yellow hair;

Bade her keep them for evermair.

When six lang months were come and gane,

A courtier to this lady came.

Lord Dingwall courted this lady gay,

And so he set their wedding-day.

A little boy to the ha was sent,

To bring her horse was his intent.

As she was riding the way along,

She began to make a heavy moan.

'What ails you, lady,' the boy said,

'That ye seem sae dissatisfied?

'Are the bridle reins for you too strong?

Or the stirrups for you too long?'

'But, little boy, will ye tell me

The fashions that are in your countrie?'

'The fashions in our ha I'll tell,

And o them a' I'll warn you well.

'When ye come in upon the floor,

His mither will meet you wi a golden chair.

'But be ye maid or be ye nane,

Unto the high seat make ye boun.

'Lord Dingwall aft has been beguild

By girls whom young men hae defiled.

'He's cutted the paps frae their breast-bane,

And sent them back to their ain hame.'

When she came in upon the floor,

His mother met her wi a golden chair.

But to the high seat she made her boun:

She knew that maiden she was nane.

When night was come, they went to bed,

And ower her breast his arm he laid.

He quickly jumped upon the floor,

And said, 'I've got a vile rank whore.'

Unto his mother he made his moan,

Says, 'Mother dear, I am undone.

'Ye've aft tald, when I brought them hame,

Whether they were maid or nane.

'I thought I'd gotten a maiden bright;

I've gotten but a waefu wight.

'I thought I'd gotten a maiden clear,

But gotten but a vile rank whore.'

'When she came in upon the floor,

I met her wi a golden chair.

'But to the high seat she made her boun,

Because a maiden she was nane.'

'I wonder wha 's tauld that gay ladie

The fashion into our countrie.'

'It is your little boy I blame,

Whom ye did send to bring her hame.'

Then to the lady she did go,

And said, 'O Lady, let me know

'Who has defiled your fair bodie:

Ye're the first that has beguiled me.'

'O we were sisters, sisters seven,

The fairest women under heaven.

'And we kiest kevels us amang,

Wha woud to the grenewood gang;

'For to pu the finest flowers,

To put around our summer bowers.

'I was the youngest o them a';

The hardest fortune did me befa.

'Unto the grenewood I did gang,

And pu'd the nuts as they down hang.

'I hadna stayd an hour but ane

Till I met wi a highlan groom.

'He keeped me sae late and lang

Till the evening set and birds they sang.

'He gae to me at our parting

A chain of gold and gay gold ring;

'And three locks o his yellow hair;

Bade me keep them for evermair.

'Then for to show I make nae lie,

Look ye my trunk, and ye will see.'

Unto the trunk then she did go,

To see if that were true or no.

And aye she sought, and aye she flang,

Till these four things came to her hand.

Then she did to her ain son go,

And said, 'My son, ye'll let me know,

'Ye will tell to me this thing:

What did you wi my wedding-ring?'

'Mother dear, I'll tell nae lie:

I gave it to a gay ladie.

'I would gie a' my ha's and towers,

I had this bird within my bowers.'

'Keep well, keep well your lands and strands;

Ye hae that bird within your hands.

'Now, my son, to your bower ye'll go:

Comfort your ladie, she's full o woe.'

Now when nine months were come and gane,

The lady she brought hame a son.

It was written on his breast-bane

Lord Dingwall was his father's name.

He's taen his young son in his arms,

And aye he praisd his lovely charms.

And he has gien him kisses three,

And doubled them ower to his ladie.

Elizabeth Cochrane's Song-Book, p. 146, No 112.

Lord Benwall he's a hunting gone;

Hey down, etc.

He's taken with him all his merry men.

Hey, etc.

As he was walking late alone,

He spyed a lady both brisk and young.

He keeped her so long and long,

From the evening late till the morning came.

All that he gave her at their parting

Was a pair of gloves and a gay gold ring.

Lord Benwall he's a wooing gone,

And he's taken with him all his merry men.

As he was walking the Haleigh throw,

He spy'd seven ladyes all in a row.

He cast a lot among them all;

Upon the youngest the lot did fall.

He wedded her and brought her home,

And by the way she made great moan.

'What aileth my dearest and dayly flower?

What ails my dear, to make such moan?

'Does the steed carry you too high?

Or does thy pillow sit awry?

'Or does the wind blow in thy glove?

Or is thy heart after another love?'

'The steed does not carry me too high,

Nor does my pillow sit awry.

'Nor does the wind blow in my glove,

Nor is my heart after another love.'

When they were doun to supper set,

The weary pain took her by the back.

'What ails my dearest and dayly flower?

What ails my dearest, to make such moan?'

'I am with child, and it's not to thee,

And oh and alas, what shall I doe!'

'I thought I had got a maid so mild;

But I have got a woman big with child.

'I thought I had got a dayly flower;

I have gotten but a common whore.'

* * * * * * *

'Rise up, Lord Benwall, go to your hall,

And cherrish up your merry men all.'

* * * * * * *

'As I was walking once late alone,

I spy'd a lord, both brisk and young.

'He keeped me so long and long,

From the evening late till the morning came.

'All that he gave me at our parting

Was a pair of gloves and a gay gold ring.

'If you will not believe what I tell to thee,

There's the key of my coffer, you may go and see.'

His mother went, and threw and flang,

Till to her hand the ring it came.

'Lord Benwall, wilt thou tell to me

Where is the ring I gave to thee?'

'Now I would give all my lands and tower,

To have that lady in my bower.

'I would give all my lands and rents,

To have that lady in my tents.'

'You need not give all your lands and tower,

For you have that lady in your power.

'You need not give all your lands and rents,

For you have that lady in your tents.'

Now it was written on the child's breast-bone

Lord Benwall's sirname and his name.

It was written on the child's right hand

That he should be heir of Lord Benwall's land.

'Canst cloath my lady in the silk,

And feed my young son with the milk.'

#a.# Motherwell's MS., p 219. From the recitation of Mrs

Thomson, February, 1825. #b.# Motherwell's Minstrelsy,

Appendix, p. xvi, the first stanza only.

There were three sisters in a bouir,

Eh down and Oh down

And the youngest o them was the fairest flour.

Eh down and O down

And we began our seven years wark,

To sew our brither John a sark.

When seven years was come and gane,

There was nae a sleeve in it but ane.

But we coost kevils us amang

Wha wud to the green-wood gang.

But tho we had coosten neer sae lang,

The lot it fell on me aye to gang.

I was the youngest, and I was the fairest,

And alace! my wierd it was aye the sairest.

. . . . . . .

Till I had to the woods to gae.

To pull the cherrie and the slae,

And to seek our ae brither, we had nae mae.

But as I was walking the leas o Lyne,

I met a youth gallant and fine;

Wi milk white stockings and coal black shoon;

He seemed to be some gay lord's son.

But he keepit me there sae lang, sae lang,

Till the maids in the morning were singing their sang.

Would I wee or would I way,

He keepit me the lang simmer day.

Would I way or would I wight,

He keepit me the simmer night.

But guess what was at our parting?

A pair o grass green gloves and a gay gold ring.

He gave me three plaits o his yellow hair,

In token that we might meet mair.

But when nine months were come and gane,

This gallant lord cam back again.

He's wed this lady, and taen her wi him;

But as they were riding the leas o Lyne,

This lady was not able to ride,

. . . . . . .

'O does thy saddle set thee aside?

Or does thy steed ony wrang way ride?

'Or thinkst thou me too low a groom?

. . . . . . .

'Or hast thou musing in thy mind

For the leaving of thy mother kind?'

'My saddle it sets not me aside,

Nor does my steed ony wrang way ride.

'Nor think I thee too low a groom

. . . . . . .

'But I hae musing in my mind

For the leaving of my mother kind.'

'I'll bring thee to a mother of mine,

As good a mother as eer was thine.'

'A better mother she may be,

But an unco woman she'll prove to me.'

But when lords and ladies at supper sat,

Her pains they struck her in the back.

When lords and ladies were laid in bed,

Her pains they struck her in the side.

'Rise up, rise up, now, Lord Brangwill,

For I'm wi child and you do not know't.'

He took up his foot and gave her sic a bang

Till owre the bed the red blood sprang.

He is up to his mother's ha,

Calling her as hard as he could ca.

'I went through moss and I went through mure,

Thinking to get some lily flouir.

. . . . . . .

'But to my house I have brocht a hure.

'I thocht to have got a lady baith meek and mild,

But I've got a woman that's big wi child.'

'O rest you here, Lord Brangwill,' she said,

'Till I relieve your lady that lyes so low.'

'O daughter dear, will you tell to me

Who is the father of your babie?'

'Yes, mother dear, I will tell thee

Who is the father of my babie.

'As I was walking the leas o Lyne,

I met a youth gallant and fine;

'With milk-white stockings and coal-black shoon;

He seemd to be sum gay lord's son.

'He keepit me sae lang, sae lang,

Till the maids in the morning were singing their sang.

'Would I wee or would I way,

He keepit me the lang simmer day.

'Would I way or would I wight,

He keepit me the simmer night.

'But guess ye what was at our parting?

A pair of grass green gloves and a gay gold ring.

'He gave me three plaits o his yellow hair,

In token that we might meet mair.'

'O dochter dear, will ye show me

These tokens that he gave to thee?'

'Altho my back should break in three,

Unto my coffer I must be.'

'Thy back it shall not break in three,

For I'll bring thy coffer to thy knee.'

Aye she coost, and aye she flang,

Till these three tokens came to her hand.

Then she is up to her son's ha,

Calling him hard as she could ca.

'O son, O son, will you tell me

. . . . . . .

'What ye did wi the grass green gloves and gay gold ring

That ye gat at your own birth-een?'

'I gave them to as pretty a may

As ever I saw in a simmer day.

'I wud rather than a' my lands sae broad

That I had her as sure as eer I had.

'I would rather than a' my lands sae free

I had her here this night wi me.'

'I wish you good o your lands sae broad,

For ye have her as sure as eer ye had.

'I wish ye good o your lands sae free,

For ye have her here this night wi thee.'

'Gar wash my auld son in the milk,

Gar deck my lady's bed wi silk.'

He gave his auld son kisses three,

But he doubled them a' to his gay ladye.

Herd's Ancient and Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p. 244; ed.

1776, I, 83.

As Bothwell was walking in the lowlands alane,

Hey down and a down

He met six ladies sae gallant and fine.

Hey down and a down

He cast his lot amang them a',

And on the youngest his lot did fa.

He's brought her frae her mother's bower,

Unto his strongest castle and tower.

But ay she cried and made great moan,

And ay the tear came trickling down.

'Come up, come up,' said the foremost man,

'I think our bride comes slowly on.'

'O lady, sits your saddle awry,

Or is your steed for you owre high?'

'My saddle is not set awry,

Nor carries me my steed owre high;

'But I am weary of my life,

Since I maun be Lord Bothwell's wife.'

He's blawn his horn sae sharp and shrill,

Up start the deer on evry hill.

He's blawn his horn sae lang and loud,

Up start the deer in gude green-wood.

His lady mother lookit owre the castle wa,

And she saw them riding ane and a'.

She's calld upon her maids by seven,

To mak his bed baith saft and even.

She's calld upon her cooks by nine,

To make their dinner fair and fine.

When day was gane, and night was come,

'What ails my love on me to frown?

'Or does the wind blow in your glove?

Or runs your mind on another love?'

'Nor blows the wind within my glove,

Nor runs my mind on another love;

'But I nor maid nor maiden am,

For I'm wi bairn to another man.'

'I thought I'd a maiden sae meek and sae mild,

But I've nought but a woman wi child.'

His mother's taen her up to a tower,

And lockit her in her secret bower.

'Now, doughter mine, come tell to me,

Wha's bairn this is that you are wi.'

'O mother dear, I canna learn

Wha is the faither of my bairn.

'But as I walkd in the lowlands my lane,

I met a gentleman gallant and fine.

'He keepit me there sae late and sae lang,

Frae the evning late till the morning dawn.

'And a' that he gied me to my propine

Was a pair of green gloves and a gay gold ring;

'Three lauchters of his yellow hair,

In case that we shoud meet nae mair.'

His lady mother went down the stair:

. . . . . . .

'Now son, now son, come tell to me,

Where's the green gloves I gave to thee?'

'I gied to a lady sae fair and so fine

The green gloves and a gay gold ring.

'But I wad gie my castles and towers,

I had that lady within my bowers.

'But I wad gie my very life,

I had that lady to be my wife.'

'Now keep, now keep your castles and towers,

You have that lady within your bowers.

'Now keep, now keep your very life,

You have that lady to be your wife.'

'O row my lady in sattin and silk,

And wash my son in the morning milk.'

Kinloch MSS, V, 335, in the handwriting of Dr John Hill

Burton.

We were seven sisters in a bower,

Adown adown, and adown and adown

The flower of a' fair Scotland ower.

Adown adown, and adown and adown

We were sisters, sisters seven,

The fairest women under heaven.

There fell a dispute us amang,

Wha would to the greenwood gang.

They kiest the kevels them amang,

O wha would to the greenwood gang.

The kevels they gied thro the ha,

And on the youngest it did fa.

The kevel fell into her hand,

To greenwood she was forced to gang.

She hedna pued a flower but ane,

When by there came an earl's son.

'And was he well or was he wae,

He keepet me that summer's day.'

And was he weel or was he weight,

He keepet her that summer's night.

And he gave her a gay goud ring

His mother got at her wedding.

* * * * * * *

'Oh is yer stirrup set too high?

Or is your saddle set awry?

'Oh is yer stirrup set too side?

Or what's the reason ye canna ride?'

* * * * * * *

When all were at the table set,

Then not a bit could this lady eat.

When all made merry at the feast,

This lady wished she were at her rest.

* * * * * * *

* * * * *

#A. a.#

_In the MS. two lines are written continuously, and two of

these double lines numbered as one stanza._

19^1, 23^1, 69^2, 71^2, _perhaps ~gate~, ~gates~ in MS._

54^1, _MS._ be a nae.

56.^1 _~casket~ in MS.?_

#b. 1.#

Chil Brenton has sent oer the faem,

Chil Brenton's brought his lady hame.

#B.#

_Printed by Scott in four-line stanzas. 7, 55, 56, 58, 61,

seem to be the stanzas transferred from Herd, but only the

last without change._

#C.#

_The stanzas are not divided in Cromek. Between 14 and 15

the following nineteen couplets have been omitted._

First blew the sweet, the simmer wind,

Then autumn wi her breath sae kind,

Before that eer the guid knight came

The tokens of his luve to claim.

Then fell the brown an yellow leaf

Afore the knight o luve shawed prief;

Three morns the winter's rime did fa,

When loud at our yett my luve did ca.

'Ye hae daughters, ye hae seven,

Ye hae the fairest under heaven.

I am the lord o lands wide,

Ane o them maun be my bride.

I am lord of a baronie,

Ane o them maun lie wi me.

O cherry lips are sweet to pree,

A rosie cheek's meet for the ee;

Lang brown locks a heart can bind,

Bonny black een in luve are kind;

Sma white arms for clasping's meet,

Whan laid atween the bridal-sheets;

A kindlie heart is best of a',

An debonnairest in the ha.

Ane by ane thae things are sweet,

Ane by ane in luve they're meet;

But when they a' in ae maid bide,

She is fittest for a bride.

Sae be it weel or be it wae,

The youngest maun be my ladie;

Sae be it gude, sae be it meet,

She maun warm my bridal-sheet.

Little kend he, whan aff he rode,

I was his tokend luve in the wood;

Or when he gied me the wedding-token,

He was sealing the vows he thought were broken.

First came a page on a milk-white steed,

Wi golden trappings on his head:

A' gowden was the saddle lap,

And gowden was the page's cap.

_15-21 have been allowed to stand principally on account

of 18._

_There is small risk in pronouncing 24, 25, 42, 43, 80, 81

spurious, and Cunningham surpasses his usual mawkishness

in 83._

#E#

_is written in four-line stanzas_.

19. mother, _in the margin_.

20. lady, _in the margin_.

#F. a.#

7^2. _MS_. Till [Still?].

_7^2 and 8, 17 and 18^1, 20^1 and 21, 23^1 and 24, 32 and

33^2, 50^1 and 51, are respectively written as a stanza in

the MS._

12^1, 41^1. _Motherwell conjectures_

Would I wait, or would I away.

13^1, 42^1. _Motherwell conjectures_

Would I away, or would I wait.

14^2, 43^2. _MS. ~green sleeves~: but see 51^1, and also

#E# 22^1, #G# 24^2, 28^2._

29^2, _above you do not know't is written know ~not who

till~, apparently a conjecture of Motherwell's._

30^2, _sometimes recited_

Till owre the bed this lady he flang.

53^1. _MS._ abroad.

#b.1.#

Seven ladies livd in a bower,

Hey down and ho down

And aye the youngest was the flower.

Hey down and ho down

#G.#

_The stanzas are not divided in Herd._

#H.#

_4 is crossed through in the MS., but no reason given._

[94] In his note-book, p. 117, Motherwell writes, with less than his

usual discretion: "The ballad of Bothwell, Cospatric, or Gil Brenton,

appears to be copied from an account of the birth of Makbeth given by

Wintown." The substance of this account is, that Macbeth's mother had a

habit of repairing to the woods for wholesome air, and that, during one

of her rambles, she fell in with a fair man, really the Devil, who

passed the day with her, and got on her a son.

"And of that dede in taknyng

He gave his lemman thare a ryng,

And bad hyr that scho suld kepe that wele,

And hald for hys luve that jwele."

_Cronykil_, Book VI, ch. xviii, 57-90.

[95] Scott says: "Cospatrick, Comes Patricius;" but Cos- (Gos-)patrick

is apparently Servant of Patrick, like Gil-patrick (Kil-patrick). Mr

Macmath suggests to me that Gil Brenton may have originally been

Gil-brandon, which seems very likely. See Notes and Queries, 5th S., x,

443.

[96] A fragment in Rancken's 'Några Prof af Folksång,' p. 14 f, belongs

not to 'Riddar Olle,' as there said, but to 'Herr Äster och Fröken

Sissa,' though the burden is 'Riddar Olof.' Other verses, at p. 16,

might belong to either. 'Riddar Ola,' E. Wigström's Folkdiktning, p. 37,

No 18, belongs with the Danish 'Guldsmedens Datter,' Grundtvig No 245.

[97] The inquiry seems to refer to the morning gift. "Die Morgengabe ist

ein Geschenk des Mannes als Zeichen der Liebe (in signum amoris), für

die Uebergabe der vollen Schönheit (in honore pulchritudinis) und der

Jungfräulichkeit (pretium virginitatis)." Weinhold, Die deutschen Frauen

in dem Mittelalter, S. 270.

[98] And again, "Is it the saddle, your horse, or your true-love?"

almost exactly as in our #B#, #E#, #F#, Grundtvig, 40 #C#, #E#, #F#,

Afzelius, 91, Landstad, 45, 52. So the Scottish ballad, 'The Cruel

Brother,' #B# 15 f.

[99] The auld belly-blind man in 'Earl Richard,' 44^3, 45^1, Kinloch's

A. S. Ballads, p. 15, retains the bare name; and Belly Blind, or Billie

Blin, is the Scotch name for the game of Blindman's-buff.

[100] Gisbertus Voetius, De Miraculis, Disput., II, 1018. Cited also by

Schmeller, Bayerisches Wörterbuch, from J. Prætorius's Alectryomantia,

p. 3.

[101] Merlin, in Layamon, V. 17130 ff (as pointed out by Grundtvig, I,

274), says that his mind is balewise, "mi gæst is bæliwis," and that he

is not disposed to gladness, mirth, or good words.

WILLIE'S LADY

#a.# 'Willie's Lady,' Fraser-Tytler MS.

#b.# 'Sweet Willy,' Jamieson-Brown MS., No 15, fol. 33.

#a#, 'Willie's Lady,' was No 1 in the manuscript of fifteen ballads

furnished William Tytler by Mrs Brown in 1783, and having been written

down a little later than #b# may be regarded as a revised copy. This

manuscript, as remarked under No 5, is not now in the possession of the

Fraser-Tytler family, having often been most liberally lent, and,

probably, at last not returned. But a transcript had been made by the

grandfather of the present family of two of the pieces contained in it,

and 'Willie's Lady' is one of these two.

Lewis had access to William Tytler's copy, and, having regulated the

rhymes, filled out a gap, dropped the passage about the girdle, and made

other changes to his taste, printed the ballad in 1801 as No 56 of his

Tales of Wonder. The next year Scott gave the "ancient copy, never

before published," "in its native simplicity, as taken from Mrs Brown of

Falkland's MS.,"--William Tytler's,--in Minstrelsy of the Scottish

Border, II, 27, but not with literal accuracy. Jamieson, in 1806, gave

'Sweet Willy,' almost exactly according to the text of his Brown

manuscript, in an appendix to the second volume of his collection, p.

367, and at p. 175 of the same volume, a reconstruction of the ballad

which might have been spared.