‘Lord Livingston,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II,
39.
As far as can be made out, Livingston and Seaton engage themselves to
play against one another at some game, the victor expecting to stand the
better in the eyes of a lady. They then proceed to Edinburgh castle,
where a lady, whose ‘gowns seem like green,’ marshals the company in
pairs, and chooses Livingston for her own partner. This preference
enrages Seaton, who challenges Livingston to fight with him the next
day. Up to this point the pairing may have been for a dance, or what
not, but now we are told that Livingston and the fair dame are laid in
the same bed, and further on that they were wedded that same night. In
the morning Livingston arms himself for his fight; he declines to let
his lady dress herself in man’s clothes and fight in his stead. On his
way ‘to plain fields’ a witch warns him that she has had the dream which
Sweet William dreams in No 74, and others elsewhere. Livingston is
‘slain,’ but for all that stands presently bleeding by his lady’s knee:
see No 73, #B# 34, #D# 17. She begs him to hold out but half an hour,
and every leech in Edinburgh shall come to him: see No 88, #A# 12, etc.
He orders his lands to be dealt to the auld that may not, the young that
cannot, etc.: see No 92, #A# 10, #B# 15. The lady declares that it was
known from her birth that she was to marry a knight and lose him the
next day. She will now do for his sake what other ladies would not be
equal to (and which nevertheless many other ballad-ladies have
undertaken, as in No 69 and elsewhere). When seven years are near an end
her heart breaks.
This ballad, or something like it, was known at the end of the last
century. The story has a faint resemblance to that of ‘Armstrong and
Musgrave,’ a broadside printed in the last quarter of the seventeenth
century: Crawford Ballads, No 123, Old Ballads, 1723, I, 175; Evans, Old
Ballads, 1777, II, 70. Pinkerton acknowledges that he composed the ‘Lord
Livingston’ of his Tragic Ballads, 1781, p. 69, but he says that he had
“small lines from tradition.” (Ancient Scotish Poems, 1786, I, cxxxi.)
Pinkerton’s ballad is the one which Buchan refers to, II, 308. It is
translated by Grundtvig, Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, p. 139, No 21.
* * * * *
1
It fell about the Lammas time,
When wightsmen won their hay,
A’ the squires in merry Linkum
Went a’ forth till a play.
2
They playd until the evening tide,
The sun was gaeing down;
A lady thro plain fields was bound,
A lily leesome thing.
3
Two squires that for this lady pledged,
In hopes for a renown,
The one was calld the proud Seaton,
The other Livingston.
4
‘When will ye, Michaell o Livingston,
Wad for this lady gay?’
‘To-morrow, to-morrow,’ said Livingston,
‘To-morrow, if you may.’
5
Then they hae wadded their wagers,
And laid their pledges down;
To the high castle o Edinbro
They made them ready boun.
6
The chamber that they did gang in,
There it was daily dight;
The kipples were like the gude red gowd,
As they stood up in hight,
And the roof-tree like the siller white,
And shin’d like candles bright.
7
The lady fair into that ha
Was comely to be seen;
Her kirtle was made o the pa,
Her gowns seemd o the green.
8
Her gowns seemd like green, like green,
Her kirtle o the pa;
A siller wand intill her hand,
She marshalld ower them a’.
9
She gae every knight a lady bright,
And every squire a may;
Her own sell chose him Livingston,
They were a comely tway.
10
Then Seaton started till his foot,
The fierce flame in his ee:
‘On the next day, wi sword in hand,
On plain fields meet ye me.’
11
When bells were rung, and mass was sung,
And a’ man bound for bed,
Lord Livingston and his fair dame
In bed were sweetly laid.
12
The bed, the bed where they lay in
Was coverd wi the pa;
A covering o the gude red gowd
Lay nightly ower the twa.
13
So they lay there, till on the morn
The sun shone on their feet;
Then up it raise him Livingston
To draw to him a weed.
14
The first an weed that he drew on
Was o the linen clear;
The next an weed that he drew on,
It was a weed o weir.
15
The niest an weed that he drew on
Was gude iron and steel;
Twa gloves o plate, a gowden helmet,
Became that hind chiel weel.
16
Then out it speaks that lady gay—
A little forbye stood she—
‘I’ll dress mysell in men’s array,
Gae to the fields for thee.’
17
‘O God forbid,’ said Livingston,
‘That eer I dree the shame;
My lady slain in plain fields,
And I coward knight at hame!’
18
He scarcely travelled frae the town
A mile but barely twa
Till he met wi a witch-woman,
I pray to send her wae!
19
‘This is too gude a day, my lord,
To gang sae far frae town;
This is too gude a day, my lord,
On field to make you boun.
20
‘I dreamd a dream concerning thee,
O read ill dreams to guid!
Your bower was full o milk-white swans,
Your bride’s bed full o bluid.’
21
‘O bluid is gude,’ said Livingston,
‘To bide it whoso may;
If I be frae yon plain fields,
Nane knew the plight I lay.’
22
Then he rade on to plain fields
As swift’s his horse coud hie,
And there he met the proud Seaton,
Come boldly ower the lee.
23
‘Come on to me now, Livingston,
Or then take foot and flee;
This is the day that we must try
Who gains the victorie.’
24
Then they fought with sword in hand
Till they were bluidy men;
But on the point o Seaton’s sword
Brave Livingston was slain.
25
His lady lay ower castle-wa,
Beholding dale and down,
When Blenchant brave, his gallant steed,
Came prancing to the town.
26
‘O where is now my ain gude lord
He stays sae far frae me?’
‘O dinna ye see your ain gude lord
Stand bleeding by your knee?’
27
‘O live, O live, Lord Livingston,
The space o ae half hour,
There’s nae a leech in Edinbro town
But I’ll bring to your door.’
28
‘Awa wi your leeches, lady,’ he said,
‘Of them I’ll be the waur;
There’s nae a leech in Edinbro town
That can strong death debar.
29
‘Ye’ll take the lands o Livingston
And deal them liberallie,
To the auld that may not, the young that cannot,
And blind that does na see,
And help young maidens’ marriages,
That has nae gear to gie.’
30
‘My mother got it in a book,
The first night I was born,
I woud be wedded till a knight,
And him slain on the morn.
31
‘But I will do for my love’s sake
What ladies woudna thole;
Ere seven years shall hae an end,
Nae shoe’s gang on my sole.
32
‘There’s never lint gang on my head,
Nor kame gang in my hair,
Nor ever coal nor candle-light
Shine in my bower mair.’
33
When seven years were near an end,
The lady she thought lang,
And wi a crack her heart did brake,
And sae this ends my sang.
263