#A.# ‘Clyde’s Water,’ Skene MS., p. 50.
#B.# ‘Willie and May Margaret,’ Jamieson’s Popular Ballads, 1806, I,
135.
#C.# ‘The Drowned Lovers,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland,
I, 140; ‘Willie and Margaret,’ Motherwell’s MS., p. 611; printed in
part in Motherwell’s Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. iii.
Stanzas 1, 5, 6, 7, 16, of #B# were printed by Jamieson (under the title
of Sweet Willie and May Margaret) in the Scots Magazine, October, 1803,
p. 700, in the hope of obtaining a complete copy.
In notes to #B# are here given some various readings and supplementary
verses which were entered by Motherwell in a copy of his Minstrelsy,
without indication of their origin.[113] Motherwell made a few changes
in transcribing #C# into his MS., and others in the verses which he
printed in the appendix to his Minstrelsy.
The copy of this ballad in Nimmo’s Songs and Ballads of Clydesdale, p.
134, was compounded from #B# and #C#.
Willie orders his horse and his man to be fed, for he means to be that
very night with his love Margaret. His mother would have him stay with
her: he shall have the best bed in the house and the best hen in the
roost, #A#; the best cock in the roost and the best sheep in the flock,
#B#; a sour wind is blowing and the night will be dark, #C#. He cares
for none of these, and will go. My malison drown thee in Clyde! says his
mother. Clyde is roaring fearfully, but he wins through. Arrived at
Margaret’s bower, he tirls at the pin and calls to her to open. A voice
asks, Who is there? It is her lover, his boots full of Clyde’s water. An
answer comes, as if from Margaret, that she has no lovers without and
none within, and she will not open, #A#, #C#; her mother is fast asleep,
and she dares make no din, #B#. Then he begs for some shelter for the
night; but is told that one chamber is full of corn, another full of
hay, and the third full of gentlemen, who will not go till morning.
Farewell, then; he has won his mother’s malison by coming. Clyde’s water
is half up over the brae, #B#, and sweeps him off his horse, #C#.
Margaret wakens from a dreary dream that her love had been ‘staring’
(standing?) at the foot of her bed, #A#; had been at the gates, and
nobody would let him in, #C#. Her mother informs her that her lover had
really been at the gates but half an hour before. Margaret instantly
gets up and goes after Willie, crying to him against the loud wind. She
does not stop for the river. No more was ever seen of Willie but his
hat, no more of Margaret but her comb and her snood, #A#, which might
end well so, but has lost a few lines. #C# ends like the preceding
ballad: Margaret finds Willie in the deepest pot in Clyde; they shall
sleep together in its bed.
#C# 20, 21 absurdly represents Willie’s brother as standing on the
river-bank and expostulating with him; this in the dead of night.[114]
The passage in two of the copies, #A# 10–16, #C# 11–15, 22–25, in which
the mother, pretending to be her daughter, repels the lover, and the
daughter, who has dreamed that her lover had come and had been refused
admittance, is told by her mother that this had actually happened, and
sets off in pursuit of her lover, seems to have been adopted from ‘The
Lass of Roch Royal,’ No 76. Parts are exchanged, as happens not
infrequently with ballads; in the ‘Lass of Roch Royal,’ the lass is
turned away by her lover’s mother, pretending to speak in his person.
There is verbal correspondence, particularly in #A# 16; cf. No 76, #D#
26, 27, #E# 22, 23. In #D# 19 of No 76 the professed Love Gregor tells
Annie that he has another love, as the professed Meggie in #A# 11
(inconsistently with what precedes) tells Willie.
The three steps into the water, #C# 26–28, occur also in ‘Child Waters,’
No 63, #B# 7–9, #C# 6–8, #I# 3, 4, 6. Nose-bleed, #C# 1, is a bad omen;
see No 208.
Verses #A# 8^{1,2}, #C# 10^{1,2},
Make me your wrack as I come back,
But spare me as I go,
are found in a broadside ‘Tragedy of Hero and Leander,’ Roxburghe
Ballads, III, 152, etc., of the date, it is thought, of about 1650;
Ebsworth’s Roxburghe Ballads, VI, 558, Collier’s Book of Roxburghe
Ballads, 1847, p. 227. The conceit does not overwell suit a popular
ballad. The original is Martial’s Parcite dum propero, mergite cum
redeo, otherwise, Mergite me, fluctus, cum rediturus ero, Epigr. lib.,
25 b, and lib. xiv, 181.
A very popular Italian ballad has some of the traits of ‘The Mother’s
Malison,’ parts being exchanged and the girl drowned. A girl is asked in
marriage; her mother objects, in most of the copies on the ground of her
daughter’s youth; she goes off with her lover; the mother wishes that
she may drown in the sea; arrived at the seashore her horse becomes
restive, and the girl is drowned (or she goes down in mid-sea):
‘Maledizione della Madre,’ Nigra, Canti popolari del Piemonte, p. 151,
No 23 #A#-#F#; ‘La Maledizione materna,’ Marcoaldi, p. 170, No 15; ‘La
Maledetta,’ Ferraro, C. p. monferrini, p. 35, No 27; ‘Buona-sera,
vedovella,’ Ferraro, C. p. del Basso Monferrato, p. 16, No 7; ‘La Figlia
disobbediente,’ Bolza, C. p. comasche, No 55; ‘Amor di Fratello,’
Bernoni, C. p. veneziani, Puntata 9, No 4; Righi, C. p. veronesi, p. 30,
No 93; Wolf, Volkslieder aus Venetien, No 92 (a fragment). In ‘Marinai,’
Ferraro, C. p. di Ferrara, etc., p. 59, No 9, the suitor is a sailor,
and the girl goes down in his ship, and so in ‘Il marinaro e la sua
amorosa,’ No 94, Wolf, but in this last she is still told to stick to
her horse. A fragment in Marie Aycard’s Bal-lades et ch. p. de la
Provence, p. xix, repeated in Arbaud, II, 166, makes it probable that
the Italian ballad was known in the south of France. (All the above are
cited by Count Nigra.)
A mother’s curse upon her son, who is riding to fetch his bride, results
in his breaking his neck, in a Bohemian ballad already spoken of under
‘Clerk Colvil,’ No 42; see #I#, 368 (where a translation by Wenzig,
Slawische Volkslieder, p. 47, might have been noted).
A mother refuses to give her daughter in marriage because the girl is
under age; the daughter is forcibly carried off; the mother wishes that
she may not live a year, which comes to pass: ‘Der Mutter Fluch,’
Meinert, p. 246.
#B# is translated by Grundtvig, Engelske og skotshe Folkeviser, p. 64,
No 10, and (with use of #C#), by Wolff, Halle der Völker, I, 26,
Hausschatz, p. 203; Aytoun’s ballad (with use of #C#) by Rosa Warrens,
Schottische Volkslieder, p. 152, No 35; Allingham’s ballad by Knortz, L.
u. R. Alt-Englands, p. 123.
* * * * *
A
Skene MS., p. 50; taken down from recitation in the north of
Scotland, 1802–3.
1
‘Ye gie corn unto my horse,
An meat unto my man,
For I will gae to my true-love’s gates
This night, gin that I can.’
2
‘O stay at hame this ae night, Willie,
This ae bare night wi me;
The best bed in a’ my house
Sall be well made to thee.’
3
‘I carena for your beds, mither,
I carena ae pin,
For I’ll gae to my love’s gates
This night, gin I can win.’
4
‘O stay, my son Willie, this night,
This ae night wi me;
The best hen in a’ my roost
Sall be well made ready for thee.’
5
‘I carena for your hens, mither,
I carena ae pin;
I sall gae to my love’s gates
This night, gin I can win.’
6
‘Gin ye winna stay, my son Willie,
This ae bare night wi me,
Gin Clyde’s water be deep and fu o flood,
My malisen drown ye!’
7
He rode up yon high hill,
An down yon dowie glen;
The roaring of Clyde’s water
Wad hae fleyt ten thousand men.
8
‘O spare me, Clyde’s water,
O spare me as I gae!
Mak me your wrack as I come back,
But spare me as I gae!’
9
He rade in, and farther in,
Till he came to the chin;
And he rade in, and farther in,
Till he came to dry lan.
10
An whan he came to his love’s gates,
He tirled at the pin:
‘Open your gates, Meggie,
Open your gates to me,
For my beets are fu o Clyde’s water,
And the rain rains oure my chin.’
11
‘I hae nae lovers therout,’ she says,
‘I hae nae love within;
My true-love is in my arms twa,
An nane will I lat in.’
12
‘Open your gates, Meggie, this ae night,
Open your gates to me;
For Clyde’s water is fu o flood,
An my mither’s malison’ll drown me.’
13
‘Ane o my chamers is fu o corn,’ she says,
‘An ane is fu o hay;
Anither is fa o gentlemen,
An they winna move till day.’
14
Out waked her May Meggie,
Out o her drousy dream:
‘I dreamed a dream sin the yestreen,
God read a’ dreams to guid!
That my true-love Willie
Was staring at my bed-feet.’
15
‘Now lay ye still, my ae dochter,
An keep my back fra the call,
For it’s na the space of hafe an hour
Sen he gad fra yer hall.’
16
‘An hey, Willie, an hoa, Willie,
Winne ye turn agen?’
But ay the louder that she crayed
He rod agenst the wind.
17
He rod up yon high hill,
An doun yon douey den;
The roring that was in Clid[e]‘s water
Wad ha flayed ten thousand men.
18
He road in, an farder in,
Till he came to the chine;
An he road in, an farder in,
Bat neuer mare was seen.
* * * * * *
19
Ther was na mare seen of that guid lord
Bat his hat frae his head;
Ther was na mare seen of that lady
Bat her comb an her sneed.
20
Ther waders went up an doun
Eadying Claid’s water
Hav don us wrang
* * * * *
B
Jamieson’s Popular Ballads, I, 135; from Mrs Brown’s recitation,
apparently in 1800.
1
‘Gie corn to my horse, mither,
Gie meat unto my man,
For I maun gang to Margaret’s bower
Before the nicht comes on.’
2
‘O stay at hame now, my son Willie,
The wind blaws cald and sour;
The nicht will be baith mirk and late
Before ye reach her bower.’
3
‘O tho the nicht were ever sae dark,
Or the wind blew never sae cald,
I will be in my Margaret’s bower
Before twa hours be tald.’
4
‘O gin ye gang to May Margaret,
Without the leave of me,
Clyde’s water’s wide and deep enough,
My malison drown thee!’
5
He mounted on his coal-black steed,
And fast he rade awa,
But ere he came to Clyde’s water
Fu loud the wind did blaw.
6
As he rode oer yon hich, hich hill,
And down yon dowie den,
There was a roar in Clyde’s water
Wad feard a hunder men.
7
His heart was warm, his pride was up;
Sweet Willie kentna fear;
But yet his mither’s malison
Ay sounded in his ear.
8
O he has swam through Clyde’s water,
Tho it was wide and deep,
And he came to May Margaret’s door,
When a’ were fast asleep.
9
O he’s gane round and round about,
And tirled at the pin;
But doors were steekd, and windows barrd,
And nane wad let him in.
10
‘O open the door to me, Margaret!
O open and lat me in!
For my boots are full o Clyde’s water
And frozen to the brim.’
11
‘I darena open the door to you,
Nor darena lat you in,
For my mither she is fast asleep,
And I darena mak nae din.’
12
‘O gin ye winna open the door,
Nor yet be kind to me,
Now tell me o some out-chamber
Where I this nicht may be.’
13
‘Ye canna win in this nicht, Willie,
Nor here ye canna be;
For I’ve nae chambers out nor in,
Nae ane but barely three.
14
‘The tane o them is fu o corn,
The tither is fu o hay;
The tither is fu o merry young men;
They winna remove till day.’
15
‘O fare ye weel, then, May Margaret,
Sin better manna be;
I’ve win my mither’s malison,
Coming this nicht to thee.’
16
He’s mounted on his coal-black steed,
O but his heart was wae!
But, ere he came to Clyde’s water,
’Twas half up oer the brae.
* * * * * *
17
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
. . . he plunged in,
But never raise again.
* * * * *
C
Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 140.
1
Willie stands in his stable-door,
And clapping at his steed,
And looking oer his white fingers
His nose began to bleed.
2
‘Gie corn to my horse, mother,
And meat to my young man,
And I’ll awa to Maggie’s bower;
I’ll win ere she lie down.’
3
‘O bide this night wi me, Willie,
O bide this night wi me;
The best an cock o a’ the reest
At your supper shall be.’
4
‘A’ your cocks, and a’ your reests,
I value not a prin,
For I’ll awa to Meggie’s bower;
I’ll win ere she lie down.’
5
‘Stay this night wi me, Willie,
O stay this night wi me;
The best an sheep in a’ the flock
At your supper shall be.’
6
‘A’ your sheep, and a’ your flocks,
I value not a prin,
For I’ll awa’ to Meggie’s bower;
I’ll win ere she lie down.’
7
‘O an ye gang to Meggie’s bower,
Sae sair against my will,
The deepest pot in Clyde’s water,
My malison ye’s feel.’
8
‘The guid steed that I ride upon
Cost me thrice thretty pound;
And I’ll put trust in his swift feet
To hae me safe to land.’
9
As he rade ower yon high, high hill,
And down yon dowie den,
The noise that was in Clyde’s water
Woud feard five huner men.
10
‘O roaring Clyde, ye roar ower loud,
Your streams seem wondrous strang;
Make me your wreck as I come back,
But spare me as I gang!’
11
Then he is on to Maggie’s bower,
And tirled at the pin;
‘O sleep ye, wake ye, Meggie,’ he said,
‘Ye’ll open, lat me come in.’
12
‘O wha is this at my bower-door,
That calls me by my name?’
‘It is your first love, sweet Willie,
This night newly come hame.’
13
‘I hae few lovers thereout, thereout,
As few hae I therein;
The best an love that ever I had
Was here just late yestreen.’
14
‘The warstan stable in a’ your stables,
For my puir steed to stand!
The warstan bower in a’ your bowers,
For me to lie therein!
My boots are fu o Clyde’s water,
I’m shivering at the chin.’
15
‘My barns are fu o corn, Willie,
My stables are fu o hay;
My bowers are fu o gentlemen,
They’ll nae remove till day.’
16
‘O fare ye well, my fause Meggie,
O farewell, and adieu!
I’ve gotten my mither’s malison
This night coming to you.’
17
As he rode ower yon high, high hill,
And down yon dowie den,
The rushing that was in Clyde’s water
Took Willie’s cane frae him.
18
He leand him ower his saddle-bow,
To catch his cane again;
The rushing that was in Clyde’s water
Took Willie’s hat frae him.
19
He leand him ower his saddle-bow,
To catch his hat thro force;
The rushing that was in Clyde’s water
Took Willie frae his horse.
20
His brither stood upo the bank,
Says, Fye, man, will ye drown?
Ye’ll turn ye to your high horse head
And learn how to sowm.
21
‘How can I turn to my horse head
And learn how to sowm?
I’ve gotten my mither’s malison,
It’s here that I maun drown.’
22
The very hour this young man sank
Into the pot sae deep,
Up it wakend his love Meggie
Out o her drowsy sleep.
23
‘Come here, come here, my mither dear,
And read this dreary dream;
I dreamd my love was at our gates,
And nane wad let him in.’
24
‘Lye still, lye still now, my Meggie,
Lye still and tak your rest;
Sin your true-love was at your yates,
It’s but twa quarters past.’
25
Nimbly, nimbly raise she up,
And nimbly pat she on,
And the higher that the lady cried,
The louder blew the win.
26
The first an step that she steppd in,
She stepped to the queet;
‘Ohon, alas!’ said that lady,
‘This water’s wondrous deep.’
27
The next an step that she wade in,
She wadit to the knee;
Says she, ‘I coud wide farther in,
If I my love coud see.’
28
The next an step that she wade in,
She wadit to the chin;
The deepest pot in Clyde’s water
She got sweet Willie in.
29
‘You’ve had a cruel mither, Willie,
And I have had anither;
But we shall sleep in Clyde’s water
Like sister an like brither.’
* * * * *
#A.#
_Not divided into stanzas in the MS.; sometimes not into verses._