KATHARINE JAFFRAY_The English and Scottish popular ballads, volume 4 (of 5)

#A. a.# ‘Katharine Jaffray,’ Herd’s MSS, I, 61, II, 56. #b.# The

Aldine edition of Burns, 1839, III, 181, four stanzas.

#B.# ‘The Laird of Laminton,’ Herd’s MSS, I, 164, II, 58.

#C.# ‘Katherine Jaffarie,’ “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border

Minstrelsy,” No 30, Abbotsford.

#D.# ‘The Laird of Laminton,’ “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border

Minstrelsy,” No 3, Abbotsford.

#E.# ‘Cathrine Jaffray,’ Skene MS., p. 81.

#F.# ‘Catherine Janferry,’ Kinloch MSS, V, 315.

#G.# ‘Catharine Jaffery,’ Maidment’s North Countrie Garland, 1824, p.

34.

#H.# Kinloch MSS, V, 313.

#I.# Motherwell’s MS., p. 327.

#J.# ‘Catherine Johnson,’ Motherwell’s MS., p. 75; ‘Catherine

Johnstone,’ Motherwell’s Minstrelsy, 1827, p. 225.

#K.# ‘Loch-in-var,’ Buchan’s Gleanings, 1825, p. 74.

#L.# Macmath MS., p. 72, two stanzas.

The ballad was first published by Sir Walter Scott, under the title ‘The

Laird of Laminton,’ in the first edition of the Minstrelsy, 1802, I,

216. This copy was fashioned by the editor from two in Herd’s MSS, #A#,

#B#. In later editions of the Minstrelsy (III, 122, 1833), the ballad

was given, with the title Katharine Janfarie, “in a more perfect state,

from several recited copies.” Twelve stanzas out of twenty-one, however,

are repeated from the first edition. Much the larger part of what is not

in Herd is taken from #C#; the name Lochinvar is adopted from #D#.[116]

A few peculiar readings may be from copies now not known, or may be the

editor’s.

The ballad in Christie, II, 16, is Scott’s later copy, with the omission

of the 16th stanza. That in Nimmo’s Songs and Ballads of Clydesdale, p.

141, is #J#, from Motherwell’s Minstrelsy.

A Scots laird wooes a Scots maid and wins her favor. An English laird or

lord, very liberal as to gowd and gear, comes to court the same lass,

gains the consent of her friends (who had at least made no opposition to

the earlier suit), and sets the wedding-day. The first lover comes to

the wedding, backed by a strong body of armed men, whom he keeps out of

sight. He is asked why he has come; it is for a sight of the bride or a

word with her, or to take a glass of wine with her or the bridegroom,

and this had he will go away. Getting near the bride on this pretence,

he swings her on to his horse and is off. A bloody fight follows, but

the bride is not retrieved. Englishmen may take warning by this not to

seek wives in Scotland; it will always end in their being tricked and

balked.

The attitude of the young woman to her first lover is not distinctly

brought out in several copies. That she had jilted him in favor of a

wealthier Englishman would probably not lessen the Scot’s pleasure in

carrying her off. In #E# 18, she does not go willingly; she greets and

wrings her hands, and says it’s foul play.[117] In #F# 2, #G# 2, the

first lover openly charges her with changing and foul play, and such is

the implication in #E# 13. In #B# 14, the bride, seeing the bloodshed,

exclaims, Wae’s me for foul play! and her lover replies, Wae to your

wilful will for causing so much good blood to be spilt! from which we

must infer a fault on her part. #I# 2 has the ambiguous line ‘and his

love drew away,’ which cannot be interpreted to mean that the first

lover was inconstant without flying in the face of all the other copies.

#D#, #J#, #K#, unequivocally represent the lass as faithful to her first

love. The bridegroom, in these versions, arranges the match with the

family, and does not mention the matter to the lass until the

wedding-day: so in #C#, #H#.[118] She sends word to her lover that if he

will come for her she will go with him, #D#; writes ‘to let him

understand,’ #J#, #K#, and not to pay him the cold compliment of an

invitation to see her wed the man that has supplanted him, as in #B# 3,

#E# 5,#F# 5, #I# 3.

In #E# 7–9, while the first lover is drinking with his comrades they

incite him to carry off the bride on her wedding-day; so #G# 6, without

explanation of the circumstances. In #E# 7–9, 12–15, he goes to the

bridal-house, and sitting at a table vents words which the other guests

cannot understand: there was a young man who loved a lass that to-day

goes another man’s bride, and plays her old love foul play; had _he_

been so served, he would take the bride away. Upon this the English ask

if he wishes a fight. There is something of this in #B# 7–10, #F# 13,

14, #G# 11–14.

The lover would wish to keep the strong body of men that he had brought

with him quite in the background until their cue came. When, therefore,

in #I# 8, 9, the bridegroom’s friends ask him what was that troop of

younkers they had seen, he puts them off with the phrase, It must have

been the Fairy Court; so in #L#. In #B# 5, 6 (where a stanza, and more,

has dropped out), when the bridegroom sees this troop from a high

window, the bride (from incredulity, it must be, and not because she is

in concert with her old lover) says he must have seen the Fairy Court.

#G# 15, 16, where the phrase comes in again, seems to have suffered

corruption; any way, the passage is not quite intelligible to me.

Katharine Jaffray (Jamphray, Janfarie) is the lass’s name in #A#, #C-G#,

#K#, #L#; Katharine Johnstone[119] in #J#; in #B#, #H#, #I#, she is

nameless.

The lover is Lochinvar in #E#, #F#, #G#, #I#, #K#, #L# (note); Lamington

in #D#, #H#, #J#; Lauderdale in #A#, #C#; he has no name in #B#. The

bridegroom is Lochinvar in #D#, #H#; Lamington in #B#, Lymington, #K#;

Lauderdale in #F#, #G#; Lochinton #A#, Lamendall #E#, Limberdale #I#

(obvious mixtures of the preceding); Faughanwood in #C#; in #J# he has

no name. The bridegroom should be an Englishman, but Lochinvar,

Lamington, and Lauderdale are all south-Scottish names. #B# puts a Scot

from the North Country in place of the titular Englishman of the other

copies, but this Norland man is laird of Lamington.

The place of the fight is Cadan bank and Cadan brae, #C#, #D#; Cowden

bank (banks) and Cowden brae (braes), #A#, #H#, #J#, the variation being

perhaps due to the very familiar Cowdenknows; Callien, Caylin, Caley

bank (buss) and brae, in #E#, #I#, #F#; Foudlin dyke and Foudlin stane

in #K#. No place is named in #B#, #G#[120]. In #I#, the lass lives in

Bordershellin.

A copy from the recitation of a young Irishwoman living in Taunton,

Massachusetts (learned from print, I suppose, and in parts imperfectly

remembered), puts the scene of the story at Edenborough town. A squire

of high degree had courted a comely country girl. When her father came

to hear of this, he was an angry man, and “requested of his daughter

dear to suit his company,” or to match within her degree. The only son

of a farmer in the east had courted this girl until he thought he had

won her, and had got the consent of her father and mother. The girl

writes the squire a letter to tell him that she is to be married to the

farmer’s son. He writes in answer that she must dress in green at her

wedding (a color which no Scots girl would wear, for ill luck), and he

will wear a suit of the same, and wed her ‘in spite of all that’s

there.’ He mounts eight squire-men on milk-white steeds, and rides ‘to

the wedding-house, with the company dressed in green.’ (See the note to

#L#.)

‘O welcome you, fair welcome!

And where have you spent all day?

Or did you see those gentlemen

That rode along this way?’

He looked at her and scoffed at her,

He smiled and this did say,

‘They might have been some fairy troops,

That rode along this way.’

She fills him a glass of new port wine, which he drinks to all the

company, saying, Happy is the man that is called the groom, but another

may love her as well as he and take her from his side.

Up spoke the intended groom,

And an angry man was he,

Saying, If it is to fight that you came here,

I am the man for thee.

‘It is not to fight that I came here,

But friendship for to show;

So give me one kiss from your lovely bride,

And away from you I’ll go.’

He took her by the waist so small,

And by the grass-green sleeve;

He took her out of the wedding-house,

Of the company asked no leave.

The drums did beat and the trumpets sound,

Most glorious to be seen,

And then away to Edenborough town,

With the company dressed in green.

Scott’s Lochinvar, in the fifth canto of Marmion, was modelled on

‘Katharine Jaffray.’

Another ballad (but a much later and inferior) in which a lover carries

off a bride on her wedding-day is ‘Lord William,’ otherwise ‘Lord

Lundy,’ to be given further on.

A Norse ballad of the same description is ‘Magnus Algotsøn,’ Grundtvig,

No 181, III, 734,[121] Syv, No 77,==‘Ungen Essendal,’ Kristensen, Jydske

Folkeminder, I, 104, No 41, ‘Hr. Essendal,’ X, 247, No 61, A, B. Syv’s

version is translated by Jamieson, Illustrations of Northern

Antiquities, p. 335.

Scott’s ballad is translated by Schubart, p. 198, Doenniges, p. 15.

Knortz, Schottische Balladen, p. 65, translates Aytoun.

* * * * *

#a.# Herd’s MSS, I, 61, II, 56. #b.# The Aldine edition of Burns’s

Poems, by Sir Harris Nicolas, 1839, III, 181, from Burns’s

autograph.

There livd a lass in yonder dale,

And doun in yonder glen, O

And Kathrine Jaffray was her name,

Well known by many men. O

Out came the Laird of Lauderdale,

Out frae the South Countrie,

All for to court this pretty maid,

Her bridegroom for to be.

He has teld her father and mither baith,

And a’ the rest o her kin,

And has teld the lass hersell,

And her consent has win.

Then came the Laird of Lochinton,

Out frae the English border,

All for to court this pretty maid,

Well mounted in good order.

He’s teld her father and mither baith,

As I hear sindry say,

But he has nae teld the lass her sell,

Till on her wedding day.

When day was set, and friends were met,

And married to be,

Lord Lauderdale came to the place,

The bridal for to see.

‘O are you came for sport, young man:

Or are you come for play?

Or are you come for a sight o our bride,

Just on her wedding day?’

‘I’m nouther come for sport,’ he says,

‘Nor am I come for play;

But if I had one sight o your bride,

I’ll mount and ride away.’

There was a glass of the red wine

Filld up them atween,

And ay she drank to Lauderdale,

Wha her true-love had been.

Then he took her by the milk-white hand,

And by the grass-green sleeve,

And he mounted her high behind him there,

At the bridegroom he askt nae leive.

Then the blude run down by the Cowden Banks,

And down by Cowden Braes,

And ay she gard the trumpet sound,

‘O this is foul, foul play!’

Now a’ ye that in England are,

Or are in England born,

Come nere to Scotland to court a lass,

Or else ye’l get the scorn.

They haik ye up and settle ye by,

Till on your wedding day,

And gie ye frogs instead o fish,

And play ye foul, foul play.

* * * * *

Herd’s MSS, I, 164, II, 58.

The gallant laird of Lamington

Cam frae the North Countree

To court a gallant gay lady,

And wi presents entered he.

He neither stood for gould nor gear—

For she was a well-fared may—

And whan he got her friends’ consent

He set the wedding-day.

She’s sent unto her first fere love,

Gin he would come to see,

And he has sent word back again

Weel ans_were_d should she be.

He has sent a mess_en_g_e_r

Right quietly throe the land,

Wi mony armed men,

To be at his command.

The bridegroom looked out at a high window,

Beheld baith dool and doon,

And there he spied her first fere love,

Come riding to the toun.

She scoffed and she scorned him,

Upo the wedding-day,

And said it had been the Fairy Court

That he had seen in array.

But as he sat at yon table-head,

Amo yon gentlemen,

And he began to speak some words

That na ane there could ken.

‘There is a lass into this town—

She is a weel-far’d may—

She is another man’s bride today,

But she’ll play him foul play.’

Up did start the bonny bridegroom,

His hat into his hand,

. . . . . . .

. . . . . .

‘O cam you here, young man, to fight?

Or came you here to flee?

Or cam you here to drink good wine,

And be good company?’

They filled a cup o good red wine,

Drunk out between them twa:

‘For one dance wi your bonny bride,

I shall gae hame my wa.’

He’s taen her by the milk-white hand,

And by the grass-green sleeve,

He’s mounted her high behind himself,

At her kin’s speired nae leave.

Now . . . . . .

And swords flew in the skies,

And droop and drowsie was the blood

Ran our yon lilly braes.

The blood ran our the lilly bank,

And our the lilly brae,

And sighing said the bonny bride,

‘A, wae’s me for foul play!’

‘My blessing on your heart, sweet thing,

Wae to your wilfu will!

So many a gallant gentleman’s blood

This day as ye’ve garred spill.

‘But a’ you that is norland men,

If you be norland born,

Come never south to wed a bryde,

For they’ll play you the scorn.

‘They will play you the scorn

Upo your wedding-day,

And gie you frogs instead o fish,

And do you foul, foul play.’

* * * * *

“Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 30,

Abbotsford. Sent Scott by William Laidlaw, in September, 1802;

obtained by him from Jean Scott.

There leeft a may, an a weel-far’d may,

High, high up in yon glen; O

Her name was Katarine Janfarie,

She was courtit by monie men. O

Up then cam Lord Lauderdale,

Up thrae the Lawland border,

And he has come to court this may,

A’ mountit in gude order.

He’s telld her father, he’s telld her mother,

An a’ the lave o her kin,

An he has telld the bonnie lass hersel,

An has her favour win.

Out then cam Lord Faughanwood,

Out frae the English border,

An for to court this well-far’d may,

A’ mountit in gude order.

He telld her father, he telld her mother,

An a’ the rest o her kin,

But he neer telld the bonnie lass hersell

Till on her waddin-een.

When they war a’ at denner set,

Drinkin the bluid-red wine,

’Twas up then cam Lord Lauderdale,

The bridegroom soud hae been.

Up then spak Lord Faughanwood,

An he spak very slee:

‘O are ye come for sport?’ he says,

‘Or are ye come for play?

Or are ye come for a kiss o our bride,

An the morn her waddin-day?’

‘O I’m no come for ought,’ he says,

‘But for some sport or play;

An ae word o yer bonnie bride,

Than I’ll horse an ride away.’

She filld a cup o the gude red wine,

She filld it to the ee:

‘Here’s a health to you, Lord Lauderdale,

An a’ your companie.’

She filld a cup o the gude red wine,

She filld it to the brim:

‘Here’s a health to you, Lord Lauderdale,

My bridegroom should hae been.’

He’s taen her by the milk-white hand,

And by the gars-green sleeve,

An he has mountit her behind him,

O the bridegroom spierd nae leave.

‘It’[s] now take yer bride, Lord Faughanwood,

Now take her an ye may;

But if ye take yer bride again

We will ca it foul play.’

There war four a twenty bonnie boys,

A’ clad i the simple gray;

They said the wad take their bride again,

By the strang hand an the may.

Some o them were fu willin men,

But they war na willin a’;

Sae four an twentie ladies gay

Bade them ride on their way.

The bluid ran down by the Cadan bank,

An in by the Cadan brae,

An ther the gard the piper play

It was a’ for foul, foul play.

A’ ye lords in fair England

That live by the English border,

Gang never to Scotland to seek a wife,

Or than ye’ll get the scorn.

They’ll keep ye up i temper guid

Untill yer wadin-day,

They’ll thraw ye frogs instead o fish,

An steal your bride away.

* * * * *

“Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No. 3,

Abbotsford. Sent Scott September 11, 1802, by William Laidlaw;

received by him from Mr Bartram of Biggar.

There lives a lass into yon bank,

She lives hersell alone,

Her name is Kathrine Jamphray,

Well known by many a one.

Than came the Laird of Lamington,

It’s frae the West Countrie,

And for to court this bonnie may,

Her bridegroom hopes to be.

He asked at her father, sae did he at her mother,

And the chief of all her kin,

But still he askd the lass hersell,

Till he had her true love won.

At length the Laird of Lachenware

Came from the English border,

And for to court this bonnie bride,

Was mounted in good order.

He asked at her father, sae did he at her mother,

As I heard many say,

But he never loot the lassie wit

Till on her wedding-day.

She sent a spy into the west

Where Lamington might be,

That an he wad come and meet wi her

That she wad with him gae.

They taen her on to Lachenware,

As they have thought it meet;

They taen her on to Lachanware,

The wedding to compleat.

When they came to Lachanware,

And near-han by the town,

There was a dinner-making,

Wi great mirth and renown.

Lamington has mounted twenty-four wiel-wight men,

Well mounted in array,

And he’s away to see his bonnie bride,

Just on her wedding-day.

When she came out into the green,

Amang her company,

Says, ‘Lamington and Lachanware

This day shall fight for me.’

When he came to Lachanware,

And lighted on the green,

There was a cup of good red wine

Was filled them between,

And ay she drank to Lamington,

Her former love who’d been.

It’s out and spake the bridegroom,

And a angrie man was he:

‘It’s wha is this, my bonnie bride,

That ye loe better than me?

‘It’s came you here for sport, young man?

Or came you here for play?

Or came you for a sight of my bonnie bride,

Upon her wedding-day?’

‘I came not here for sport,’ he says,

‘Nor came I here for play;

But an I had ae word of your bride,

I’ll horse and gae my way.’

The first time that he calld on her,

Her answer was him Nay;

But the next time that he calld on her,

She was not slow to gae.

He took her by the milk-white hand,

And by the grass-green sleeve,

He’s pulld her on behind him,

At the bridegroom speard nae leave.

The blood ran up the Caden bank,

And down the Caden brae,

And ay she bade the trumpet sound

‘It’s a’ for foul, foul play.’

‘I wonder o you English squires,

That are in England born,

That ye come to court our Scots lasses,

For fear ye get the scorn.

‘For fear you get the scorn,’ she says,

‘Upon y_ou_r wedding-day;

They’ll gee you frogs instead of fish,

And take your bride away.’

Fair fa the lads of Lamington,

Has taen their bride away!

They’ll set them up in temper wood

And scorn you all day.

* * * * *

Skene MS., p. 81; taken down in the north of Scotland, 1802–3.

Bonny Cathrin Jaffray,

That proper maid sae fare,

She has loved young Lochinvar,

She made him no compare.

He courted her the live-long winter-night,

Sae has he the simmer’s day;

He has courted her sae long

Till he sta her heart away.

But the lusty laird of Lamendall

Came frae the South Country,

An for to gain this lady’s love

In entreid he.

. . . . . . .

. . . . . .

He has gained her friends’ consent,

An sett the wedding-day.

The wedding-day it being set,

An a’ man to it . . . ,

She sent for her first fair love,

The wedding to come to.

His father an his mother came,

. . . . . . .

They came a’, but he came no;

It was a foul play.

Lochinvar, as his comrads

Sat drinkine at the wine,

[‘Fie] on you,’ said his comrads,

‘Tak yer bride for shame.

‘Had she been mine, as she was yours,

An done as she has done to you,

I wad tak her on her bridal-day,

Fra a’ her companie.

‘Fra a’ her companie,

Without any other stay;

I wad gie them frogs insted o fish,

An tak their bride away.’

He gat fifty young men,

They were gallant and gay,

An fifty maidens,

An left them on a lay.

Whan he cam in by Callien bank,

An in by Callien brae,

He left his company

Dancing on a lay.

He cam to the bridal-house,

An in entred he;

. . . . . . .

‘There was a young man in this place

Loved well a comly may,

But the day she gaes an ither man’s bride,

An played him foul play.

‘Had it been me as it was him,

An don as she has don him tee,

I wad ha geen them frogs instead o fish,

An taen their bride away.’

The English spiered gin he wad fight;

It spak well in his mind;

. . . . . . .

‘It was no for fightin I cam here,

But to bear good fellowship;

Gae me a glass wi your bridegroom,

An so I go my way.’

The glass was filled o guid red wine,

. . . between them twa:

‘Man, man I see yer bride,

An so I gae my waa.’

He was on guid horseback,

An whipt the bride him wi;

She grat an wrang her hands,

An said, ‘It is foul play.

. . . . . . .

‘An this I dare well say,

For this day I gaed anither man’s bride,

An it’s been foul play.’

But now sh’s Lochinvar’s wife,

. . . . . . .

He gaed them frogs instead o fish,

An tain their bride away.

* * * * *

Kinloch MSS, V, 315, in the handwriting of John Hill Burton.

Bonny Catherine Janferry,

The dainty dame so fair,

She’s faun in love wi young Lochinvar,

And she loved him without compare.

She loved him well, and wondrous well

To change her mind away;

But the day she goes another man’s bride,

And plays him foul play.

Home came the Laird o Lauderdale,

A’ from the South Countree,

And a’ to court this weel-fart may,

And I wat good tent took he.

Gold nor gear he did no spare,

She was so fair a may,

And he agreed wi her friends all,

And set the wedding-day.

She sent for her first true-love,

Her wedding to come tee;

His father and his mother both,

They were to come him wi.

His father and his mother both,

They were to come him wi;

And they came both, and he came no,

And this was foul play.

He’s sent a quiet messenger

Now out thro a’ the land,

To warn a hundred gentlemen,

O gallant and good renown.

O gallant and good renown,

And all o good aray,

And now he’s made his trumpet soun

A voss o foul play.

As they came up by Caley buss,

And in by Caley brae,

‘Stay still, stay still, my merry young men,

Stay still, if that you may.

‘Stay still, stay still, my merry young men,

Stay still, if that you may;

I’ll go to the bridal-house,

And see what they will say.’

When he gaed to the bridal-house,

And lighted and gaed in,

There were four and twenty English lords,

O gallant and good renown.

O gallant and good renown,

And all o good aray,

But aye he garred his trumpets soun

A voss o foul play.

When he was at the table set,

Amang these gentlemen,

He begoud to vent some words

They couldna understan.

The English lords, they waxed wroth

What could be in his mind;

They stert to foot, on horseback lap,

‘Come fecht! what’s i your mind?’

‘I came na here to feght,’ he said,

‘But for good sport and play;

And one glass wi yer bonny bridegroom,

And I’ll go boun away.’

The glass was filled o good reed wine,

And drunken atween the twa;

‘And one glass wi your bonny bride,

And I’se go boun away.’

Her maiden she stood forbye,

And quickly she said, ‘Nay

I winna gee a word o her

To none nor yet to thee.’

‘Oh, one word o yer bonny bride!

Will ye refuse me one?

Before her wedding-day was set,

I would hae gotten ten.

‘Take here my promise, maiden,

My promise and my hand,

Out oer her father’s gates this day

Wi me she shanna gang.’

He’s bent him oer his saddle-bow,

To kiss her ere he gaed,

And he fastened his hand in her gown-breast,

And tust her him behind.

He pat the spurs into his horse

And fast rade out at the gate;

Ye wouldna hae seen his yellow locks

For the dust o his horse feet.

Fast has he ridden the wan water,

And merrily taen the know,

And then the battle it began;

I’me sure it was na mow.

Bridles brack, and weight horse lap,

And blades flain in the skies,

And wan and drousie was the blood

Gaed lapperin down the lays.

Now all ye English lords,

In England where ye’r borne,

Come never to Scotland to woo a bride,

For they’le gie you the scorn.

For they’le gie you the scorn,

The scorn, if that they may;

They’ll gie you frogs instead of fish,

And steal your bride away.

* * * * *

Maidment’s North Countrie Garland, p. 34.

O bonny Catharine Jaffery,

That dainty maid so fair,

Once lovd the laird of Lochinvar,

Without any compare.

Long time she lood him very well,

But they changed her mind away,

And now she goes another’s bride,

And plays him foul play.

The bonny laird of Lauderdale

Came from the South Countrie,

And he has wooed the pretty maid,

Thro presents entered he.

For tocher-gear he did not stand,

She was a dainty may;

He ‘greed him with her friends all,

And set the wedding-day.

When Lochinvar got word of this,

He knew not what to do,

For losing of a lady fair

That he did love so true.

‘But if I were young Lochinvar,

I woud not care a fly

To take her on her wedding-day

From all her company.

‘Get ye a quiet messenger,

Send him thro all your land

For a hundred and fifty brave young lads,

To be at your command.

‘To be all at your command,

And your bidding to obey,

Yet still cause you the trumpet sound

The voice of foul play.’

He got a quiet messenger

To send thro all his land,

And full three hundred pretty lads

Were all at his command.

Were all at his command,

And his bidding did obey,

Yet still he made the trumpet sound

The voice of foul play.

Then he went to the bridal-house.

Among the nobles a’,

And when he stepped upon the floor

He gave a loud huzza.

‘Huzza! huzza! you English men,

Or borderers who were born,

Neer come to Scotland for a maid,

Or else they will you scorn.

‘She’ll bring you on with tempting words,

Aye till the wedding-day,

Syne give you frogs instead of fish,

And play you foul play.’

The gentlemen all wondered

What could be in his mind,

And asked if he’d a mind to fight;

Why spoke he so unkind?

Did he e’er see such pretty men

As were there in array?

‘O yes,’ said he, ‘a Fairy Court

Were leaping on the hay.

‘As I came in by Hyland banks,

And in by Hyland braes,

There did I see a Fairy Court,

All leaping on the leas.

‘I came not here to fight,’ he said,

‘But for good fellowship gay;

I want to drink with your bridegroom,

And then I’ll boun my way.’

The glass was filled with good red wine,

And drunk between them twae:

‘Give me one shake of your bonny bride’s hand,

And then I’ll boun my way.’

He’s taen her by the milk-white hands,

And by the grass-green sleeve,

Pulld her on horseback him behind,

At her friends askd nae leave.

Syne rode the water with great speed,

And merrily the knows;

There fifty from the bridal came—

Indeed it was nae mows—

Thinking to take the bride again,

Thro strength if that they may;

But still he gart the trumpet sound

The voice of foul play.

There were four and twenty ladies fair

All walking on the lea;

He gave to them the bonny bride,

And bade them boun their way.

They splintered the spears in pieces now,

And the blades flew in the sky,

But the bonny laird of Lochinvar

Has gained the victory.

Many a wife- and widow’s son

Lay gasping on the ground,

But the bonny laird of Lochinvar

He has the victory won.

* * * * *

Kinloch MSS, V, 313.

There was a lady fair, fair,

Lived low down in yon glen, O

And she’s been courted far an near

By several gentlemen. O

At length the laird of Lammington

Came frae the West Country,

All to court that pretty girl,

And her bridegroom for to be.

He told her father, so did he her mother,

And all the rest of her kin,

And he has told the lass hersel,

And her kind favour has won.

At length the laird of Laughenwaur

Came frae the English border,

And all to court that pretty girl,

Well mounted in good order.

He told her father, so did he her mother,

As I heard people say,

But he ner told the lass hersel,

Till on her wedding-day.

But when the wedding-day was fixed,

And married for to be,

Then Lamington came to the town,

The bridegroom for to see.

‘O are ye come for sport, sir?’ he said,

‘Or are ye come for play?

Or are ye for a sight o my bonny bride,

Upon her wedding-day?’

‘A ‘m neither come for sport, sir,’ he said,

‘Nor am I come for play,

But if I had one word o the bride

I’d mount and go away.’

There was a cup of the good red wine

Was filled out them between,

And aye she drank to Lammington,

Who her true-love had been.

He’s taen her by the milk-white hand,

And by the grass-green sleeve;

He’s mounted her behind him then,

At the bridegroom speered no leave.

The blood ran down by Cowden banks,

And down by Cowden brae,

And aye they gaured the piper play

‘It was a foul, foul play.’

Ye gentlemen of Lochenwaur,

That’s laigh in England born,

Come ner to Scotland to court a wife,

Or be sure ye’l get the scorn.

The’ll keep ye up, and tamper ye at,

Until yer wedding-day,

And they’l gie ye frogs instead o fish,

And they’ll play ye a foul play.

* * * * *

Motherwell’s MS., p. 327, “from the recitation of Robert Sim,

weaver, in Paisley, 16 July, 1825. It was a song of his father’s, a

great reciter of heroick ballads.”

In Bordershellin there did dwell

A comely, handsome may,

And Lochinvar he courted her,

And stole her heart away.

She loved him but owre weel,

And his love drew away;

Another man then courted her,

And set the wedding-day,

They set the wedding-day so plain,

As plain as it might be;

She sent a letter to her former love,

The wedding to come see.

When Lochinvar the letter read,

He sent owre a’ his land

For four and twenty beltit knichts,

To come at his command.

They all came to his hand, I say,

Upon that wedding-day;

He set them upon milk-white steeds,

And put them in array.

He set them in array, I say,

Most pleasant to be seen,

And he’s awa to the wedding-house,

A single man his lane.

And when he was to the wedding-house come,

They were all sitten down;

Baith gentlemen and knichts was there,

And lords of high renown.

They saluted him, baith auld and young,

Speired how he had spent the day,

And what young Lankashires was yon

They saw all in array.

But he answerd them richt scornfullie,

Upon their wedding-day;

He says, It’s been some Fairy Court

Ye’ve seen all in array.

Then rose up the young bridegroom,

And an angry man was he:

‘Lo, art thou come to fight, young man?

Indeed I’ll fight wi thee.’

‘O I am not come to fight,’ he sayd,

‘But good fellowship to hae,

And for to drink the wine sae red,

And then I’ll go away.’

Then they filld him up a brimming glass,

And drank it between them twa:

‘Now one word of your bonnie bride,

And then I’ll go my wa.’

But some were friends, and some were faes,

Yet nane o them was free

To let the bride on her wedding-day

Gang out o their companie.

But he took her by the milk-white hand,

And by the grass-green sleeve,

And set her on a milk-white steed,

And at nane o them speerd he leave.

Then the blood ran down the Caylin bank,

And owre the Caylin brae;

The auld folks knew something o the sport,

Which gart them cry, Foul play!

Ye lusty lads of Limberdale,

Tho ye be English born,

Come nae mair to Scotland to court a maid,

For fear ye get the scorn.

For fear that ye do get the scorn

Upon your wedding-day;

Least ye catch frogs instead of fish,

And then ye’ll ca’t foul play.

* * * * *

Motherwell’s MS., p. 75, from the recitation of Mrs Thomson, an old

woman of Kilbarchan.

There was a lass, as I heard say,

Lived low down in a glen;

Her name was Catharine Johnson,

Weel known to many men.

Doun cam the laird o Lamingtoun,

Doun frae the South Countrie,

And he is for this bonnie lass,

Her bridegroom for to be.

He’s askd her father and mother,

The chief of a’ her kin,

And then he askd the bonnie lass,

And did her favour win.

Doun cam an English gentleman,

Doun frae the English border;

He is for this bonnie lass,

To keep his house in order.

He askd her father and mother,

As I do hear them say,

But he never askd the lass hersell,

Till on her wedding-day.

But she has wrote a lang letter,

And sealed it wi her hand,

And sent it to Lord Lamington,

To let him understand.

The first line o the letter he read,

He was baith glad and fain;

But or he read the letter owre

He was baith pale and wan.

Then he has sent a messenger,

And out through all his land,

And four-and-twenty armed men

Was all at his command.

But he has left his merry men,

Left them on the lea;

And he’s awa to the wedding-house,

To see what he could see.

But when he came to the wedding-house,

As I do understand,

There were four-and-twenty belted knights

Sat at a table round.

They rose all for to honour him,

For he was of high renown;

They rose all for to welcome him,

And bade him to sit doun.

O meikle was the good red wine

In silver cups did flow,

But aye she drank to Lamingtoun,

For with him would she go.

O meikle was the good red wine

In silver cups gaed round;

At length they began to whisper words,

None could them understand.

‘O came ye here for sport, young man?

Or cam ye here for play?

Or cam ye for our bonnie bride,

On this her wedding-day?’

‘I came not here for sport,’ he said,

‘Neither did I for play;

But for one word o your bonnie bride

I’ll mount and ride away.’

They set her maids behind her,

To hear what they would say,

But the first question he askd at her

Was always [answered] nay;

The next question he askd at her

Was, ‘Mount and come away.’

It’s up the Couden bank,

And doun the Couden brae;

And aye she made the trumpet sound,

‘It’s a weel won play.’

O meikle was the blood was shed

Upon the Couden brae;

And aye she made the trumpet sound,

‘It’s a’ fair play.’

Come, all ye English gentlemen,

That is of England born,

Come nae doun to Scotland,

For fear ye get the scorn.

They’ll feed ye up wi flattering words,

And that’s foul play;

And they’ll dress ye frogs instead o fish,

Just on your wedding-day.

* * * * *

Buchan’s Gleanings of Scotch, English and Irish Scarce Old Ballads,

1825, pp. 74, 193; “taken down from oral tradition.”

There lives a lass in yonder dale,

In yon bonny borrows-town,

Her name it is Catherine Jeffrey,

She is loved by mony a ane.

Lord Lochinvar has courted her

These twelve months and a day;

With flattering words and fair speeches

He has stown her heart away.

There came a knight from south sea-bank,

From north England I mean,

He alighted at her father’s yetts,

His stile is Lord Lymington.

He has courted her father and moth

Her kinsfolk ane and aye,

But he never told the lady hersell

Till he set the wedding-day.

‘Prepare, prepare, my daughter dear,

Prepare, to you I say;

For the night it is good Wednesday night,

And the morn is your wedding-day.’

‘O tell to me, father,’ she said,

‘O tell me who it is wi;

For I’ll never wed a man on earth

Till I know what he be.’

‘He’s come a knight from the south sea-bank.

From north England I mean,

For when he lighted at my yetts,

His stile is Lord Lymington.’

‘O where will I get a bonny boy

Will win baith meet and fee,

And will run on to Lochinvar

And come again to me?’

‘O here am I, a bonny boy

That will win baith hose and sheen,

And will run on to Lochinvar,

And come right seen again.’

‘Where ye find the brigs broken,

Bend your bow and swim;

Where ye find the grass growing,

Slack your bow and run.

‘When ye come on to Lochinvar,

Byde not to chap nor ca,

But set your bent bow to your breast

And lightly loup the wa.

‘Bid him mind the words he last spake,

When we sendered on the lee;

Bid him saddle and ride full fast,

If he be set for me.’

Where he found the brigs broken,

He bent his bow and swam;

Where he found the grass growing,

He slackt his bow and ran.

When he came on to Lochinvar,

He did not chap nor ca;

He set his bent bow till his breast

And lightly leapt the wa.

‘What news? what news, my bonny boy?

What news have ye to me?’

‘Bad news, bad news, my lord,’ he said,

‘Your lady awa will be.

‘You’r bidden mind the words ye last spake,

When we sendered on the lee;

You’r bidden saddle and ride full fast,

Gin ye set for her be.’

When he came to her father’s yetts,

There he alighted down;

The cups of gold of good red wine

Were going roun and roun.

‘Now came ye here for sport?’ they said,

‘Or came ye here for play?

Or for a sight of our bonny bride,

And then to boun your way? ’

‘I came not here for sport,’ he says,

‘Nor came I here for play,

But if I had a sight of your bonny bride

Then I will boun my way.’

When Lymington he called on her,

She would not come at a’,

But Lochinvar he called on her,

And she was not sweer to draw.

He has taen her by the milk-white hand,

And by her silken sleeve,

He has mounted her high him behind,

He spiered nae mair their leave.

And aye she scoffed and scorned them,

And aye she rode away,

And aye she gart the trumpet sound

The voice of foul play,

To take the bride frae her bridegroom

Upon her wedding-day.

As they came in by Foudlin dyke,

And in by Foudlin stane,

There were mony gallant Englishmen

Lay gasping on the green.

Now a’ you that are English lords,

And are in England born,

Come never here to court your brides,

For fear ye get the scorn.

For aye they’ll scoff and scorn you,

And aye they’ll ride away;

They’ll gie you frogs instead of fish,

And call it foul play.

* * * * *

Macmath MS., p. 72, communicated January 13, 1883, by Dr Robert

Trotter, as remembered from the recitation of his father, Dr Robert

Trotter, of Dalry, Kirkcudbrightshire.

They askëd him and speirëd him,

And unto him did say,

‘O saw ye ocht o an armed band,

As ye cam on your way?’

He jested them and jeerëd them,

And thus to them did say,

‘O I saw nocht but a fairy troop,

As I rode on my way.’

* * * * *

#A.#

#a.#

_The second copy has some different spellings, and drops the

second_ the _in_ 11^1. 3, 5 _are_ 5, 3 _in both. Sense requires

the change: cf. also_ #F# 5, #H# 5, #I# 4.

#b.#

1^4. to many. 3==_the MS._ 3. 4^4. All mounted.

#B.#

_The first copy is written in long lines (two to a stanza);

neither is divided into stanzas. There are differences of

spelling._ 3^1, 5^3, fere _seems to be meant for_ fair: _cf._

#C# 5^3. 4^4. At her, _both: cf._ #E# 7, #G# 4, #H# 8. 5^2.

_Both copies have_ doom. 5^2, 15^4. _First_, behold, garned, _in

my copy, probably by error. Second_, beheld, gard.

_The second copy has these variations._ 2^3. got the. 3^1, 5^3.

fere _wanting_. 15^1. thing _wanting_. 16^1. that are.

_The first edition of the ballad in Scott’s Minstrelsy is made up

as follows (it being remembered that the editor did not profess

or practice a servile fidelity in the treatment of his

materials)_: #B# 1–6; #B# 10, #A# 7; #A# 8, #B# 11; #A# 9; #B#

12; #B# 13 (_but mostly Scott’s_); #A# 11, #B# 14; #B# 15; #B#

16; #A# 13.

_12 of these 15 stanzas are repeated in the later edition; the new

stanzas in that copy are 1–5, 14–16, 20. These are

substantially_ #C# 1–5, 12–14, 16.

_Some variations will be noticed under_ #C#.

#C.#

O, _the tag to the second and fourth lines, is not written in_ 2,

4, 16^2, 17^4.

1^2. into _written over_ up.

2^4. Weel _in the margin against_ A’.

3^2. rest _struck out before_ lave.

4^1. Up _struck out before_ Out. Faughan Wood, _here and_ 7^1;

_in_ 12^1, Faughan Wood.

7^1. Up the then.

9^1. gude _struck out before_ red, _and_ red _written over_.

15^1. _Originally_ down by; down _struck out_.

15^2. _Originally_ in by; in _struck out. These last two changes,

and others, seem to be editorial._

_1–5, 12–14, 16, with variations, are 1–5, 14–16, 20 of the later

edition of the ballad in Scott’s Minstrelsy. Slight alterations,

such as Scott was accustomed to make, do not require notice._

Scott, 3^{1,2}. He told na _in the Minstrelsy: almost certainly an

arbitrary change, and not a good one, since it makes the

hardship to Lauderdale the less._

4^1. Lochinvar (_also in_ 14^1) _for_ Lord Faughanwood;

_introduced from_ #D#.

15^2. clad in the Johnstone grey: _for which no authority is

known_.

16^3. Leader lads _for_ ladies gay: _probably a conjectural

emendation_.

20^4. For fear of sic disorder: _presumably a change for rhyme_,

disorder _suggested by_ 2^4.

#D.#

9^1. 24.