"Thomas, late swylke wordes bee;
Qwene of heuenne, am I noghte,
For I tuke neuer so heghe degre. 60
"Bot I ame of ane other contree,
If I be payrelde moste of prysse;
I ryde aftyre this wylde fee;
My raches rynnys at my devyse."
"If thu be parelde moste of prysse, 65
And here rydis thus in thy folye,
Of lufe, lady, als thu art wysse,
Thou gyffe me leue to lye the bye."
Scho sayde, "thu man, that ware folye;
I praye the, Thomas, thu lat me bee; 70
Ffor I saye the full sekirlye,
That syne will fordoo all my beaute."
"Now lufly ladye rewe on mee,
And I will euer more with the duelle;
Here my trouthe I 'plyghte to thee,' 75
Wethir thu will in heuen or helle."
"Mane of molde, thu will me marre,
But yitt thu sall hafe all thy will;
And trowe it wele, thu chewys the werre,
Ffor alle my beaute will thu spylle." 80
Down than lyghte that lady bryghte,
Vndir nethe that grene wode spraye;
And, als the storye tellis full ryghte,
Seuen sythis by hir he laye.
Scho sayd, "man, the lykes thi playe: 85
What byrde in boure maye delle with the?
Thou merrys me all this longe daye;
I pray the, Thomas, late me bee."
Thomas stode wpe in that stede,
And he byhelde that lady gaye; 90
Hir hare it hange all ouer hir hede,
Hir eghne semede owte, that are were graye.
And all the riche clothynge was awaye,
That he byfore sawe in that stede;
Hir a schanke blake, hir other graye, 95
And all hir body lyke the lede;
Thomas laye, and sawe that syghte,
Vndir nethe that grenewod tree.
Than sayd Thomas, "allas! allas!
In faythe this es a dullfull syghte; 100
How arte thu fadyde thus in the face,
That schane byfore als the sonne so bryght!"
Scho sayd, "Thomas, take leve at sone and mone,
And als at lefe that grewes on tree;
This twelmoneth sall thu with me gone, 105
And medill-erthe thu sall non see."
He knelyd downe appon his knee,
Vndir nethe that grenewod spraye;
And sayd, "Lufly lady![L109] rewe on mee,
Mylde qwene of heuen, als thu beste maye." 110
"Allas!" he sayd, "and wa es mee,
I trewe my dedis will wirke me care;
My saulle, Jhesu, byteche I the,
Whedir come that euer my banes sall fare."
Scho ledde hym in at Eldone hill, 115
Vndir nethe a derne lee;
Whare it was dirk as mydnyght myrke,
And euer the water till his knee.
The montenans of dayes three,
He herd bot swoghyne of the flode; 120
At the laste, he sayde, "full wa es mee!
Almaste I dye, for fawte of fude."
Scho lede hym in till a faire herbere,
Whare frwte was 'growyng in gret plentee;'
Pers and appill, bothe rype thay were, 125
The date, and als the damasee;
The fygge, and als so the wyne-berye;
The nyghtyngales lyggande on thair neste;
The papeioyes faste abowte gan flye;
And throstylls sange, wolde hafe no reste. 130
He pressede to pulle frowte with his hande,
Als man for fude that was nere faynt;
Scho sayd, "Thomas, thu late tham stande,
Or ells the fende the will atteynt.
"If thu it plokk, sothely to say, 135
Thi saule gose to the fyre of helle;
It comes neuer owte or Domesdaye,
Bot ther in payne ay for to duelle.
"Thomas, sothely, I the hyghte,
Come lygge thyn hede down on my knee, 140
And 'thou' sall se the fayreste syghte,
That euer sawe man of thi contree."
He did in hye als scho hym badde;
Appone hir knee his hede he layde,
Ffor hir to paye he was full glade, 145
And than that lady to him sayde--
"Seese thu nowe yone faire waye,
That lyggis ouer yone heghe montayne?--
Yone es the waye to heuen for aye,
When synfull sawles are passed ther payne. 150
"Seese thu nowe yone other waye,
That lygges lawe by nethe yone rysse?
Yone es the waye, the sothe to saye,
Vnto the joye of paradyse.
"Seese thu yitt yone third waye, 155
That ligges vnder yone grene playne?
Yone es the waye, with tene and traye,
Whare synfull saulis suffiris thare payne.
"Bot seese thu nowe yone forthe waye,
That lygges ouer yone depe delle? 160
Yone es the way, so waylawaye,
Vnto the byrnande fyre of hell.
"Seese thu yitt yone faire castelle,
That standes vpone yone heghe hill?
Of towne and towre, it beris the belle; 165
In erthe es none lyk it vntill.
"Ffor sothe, Thomas, yone es myn awenn,
And the kynges of this countree;
Bot me ware leuer hanged and drawen,
Or that he wyste thou laye me by. 170
"When thu commes to yone castelle gay,
I pray the curtase man to bee;
And whate so any man to the saye,
Luke thu answere none bott mee.
"My lorde es seruede at ylk a mese, 175
With thritty knyghttis faire and free;
I sail saye, syttande at the dasse,
I tuke thi speche byyonde the see."
Thomas still als stane he stude.
And he byhelde that lady gaye; 180
Scho come agayne als faire and gude,
And al so ryche one hir palfraye.
Hir grewe hundis fillide with dere blode;
Hir rachis couplede, by my faye;
Scho blewe hir horne with mayne and mode, 185
Vnto the castelle scho tuk the waye.
In to the haulle sothely scho went;
Thomas foloued at hir hande;
Than ladyes come, bothe faire and gent,
With curtassye to hit knelande. 190
Harpe and fethill bothe thay fande,
Getterne, and als so the sawtrye;
Lutte and rybybe, bothe gangande,
And all manere of mynstralsye.
The most meruelle that Thomas thoghte, 195
When that he stode appon the flore;
Ffor feftty hertes in were broghte,
That were bothe 'largely' grete and store.
Raches laye lapande in the blode,
Cokes come with dryssynge knyfe; 200
They brittened tham als thay were wode;
Reuelle amanges thame was full ryfe.
Knyghtis dawnsede by three and three,
Thare was revelle, gamen, and playe,
Lufly ladyes, faire and free, 205
That satte and sange one riche araye.
Thomas duellide in that solace
More than I yowe save, perde;
Till one a daye, so hafe I grace,
My lufly lady sayde to mee: 210
"Do busk the, Thomas,--the busk agayne,[L211]
Ffor thu may here no lengare be;
Hye the faste, with myghte and mayne;
I sall the brynge till Eldone tree."
Thomas sayde than with heuy chere; 215
"Lufly lady, nowe late me bee;
Ffor certis, lady, I hafe bene here
Noghte bot the space of dayes three.
"Ffor sothe, Thomas, als I the telle,
Thou hase bene here thre yere and more; 220
Bot langere here thu may noghte dwelle;
The skylle I sall the telle wherefore.
"To morne, of helle the foulle fende
Amange this folke will feche his fee;
And thu arte mekill man and hende, 225
I trowe full wele he wolde chese the.
"Ffor all the gold that euer may bee,
Ffro hethyn unto the worldis ende,
Thou bese neuer betrayede for mee;
Therefore with me I rede thou wende." 230
Scho broghte hym agayne to Eldone tree,
Vndir nethe that grenewode spraye;
In Huntlee bannkes es mery to bee,
Whare fowles synges bothe nyght and daye.
"Fferre owtt in yone mountane graye, 235
Thomas, my fawkon byggis a neste;--
A fawcoun is an eglis praye;
Fforthi in na place may he reste.
"Ffare well, Thomas; I wend my waye;
Ffor me byhouys ouer thir benttis brown." 240
--Loo here a fytt: more es to saye,
All of Thomas of Erselldown.--
22, Laing, by tene. [Transcriber's note: this refers to line 22 of the
first part, which is missing between pages 97 and 98.]
5, Linc. MS. throstylle cokke.
21, sette, Laing.
109, Lufly lady, i.e. Mary.
211, buse agayne.
THOMAS THE RHYMER.
TRADITIONAL VERSION.
_Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_, (iv. 117.) "Given from a copy
obtained from a lady residing not far from Ercildoune, corrected and
enlarged by one in Mrs. Brown's MSS."
True Thomas lay on Huntlie bank;
A ferlie he spied wi' his ee;
And there he saw a ladye bright,
Come riding down by the Eildon Tree.
Her shirt was o' the grass-green silk, 5
Her mantle o' the velvet fyne;
At ilka tett of her horse's mane,
Hung fifty siller bells and nine.
True Thomas, he pull'd aff his cap,
And louted low down to his knee: 10
"All hail, thou mighty Queen of Heaven!
For thy peer on earth I never did see."--
"O no, O no, Thomas," she said,
"That name does not belang to me;
I am but the Queen of fair Elfland, 15
That am hither come to visit thee.
"Harp and carp, Thomas," she said;
"Harp and carp along wi' me;
And if ye dare to kiss my lips,
Sure of your bodie I will be."-- 20
"Betide me weal, betide me woe,
That weird shall never daunton me."--
Syne he has kissed her rosy lips,
All underneath the Eildon Tree.
"Now, ye maun go wi' me," she said; 25
"True Thomas, ye maun go wi' me;
And ye maun serve me seven years,
Thro' weal or woe as may chance to be."
She mounted on her milk-white steed;
She's ta'en true Thomas up behind: 30
And aye, whene'er her bridle rung,
The steed flew swifter than the wind.
O they rade on, and farther on;
The steed gaed swifter than the wind;
Until they reach'd a desert wide, 35
And living land was left behind.
"Light down, light down, now, true Thomas,
And lean your head upon my knee;
Abide and rest a little space,
And I will shew you ferlies three. 40
"O see ye not yon narrow road,
So thick beset with thorns and briers?
That is the path of righteousness,
Though after it but few enquires.
"And see ye not that braid braid road, 45
That lies across that lily leven?
That is the path of wickedness,
Though some call it the road to heaven.
"And see not ye that bonny road,
That winds about the fernie brae? 50
That is the road to fair Elfland,
Where thou and I this night maun gae.
"But, Thomas, ye maun hold your tongue,
Whatever ye may hear or see;
For, if you speak word in Elfyn land, 55
Ye'll ne'er get back to your ain countrie."
O they rade on, and farther on,
And they waded through rivers aboon the knee,
And they saw neither sun nor moon,
But they heard the roaring of the sea. 60
It was mirk mirk night, and there was nae stern light,
And they waded through red blude to the knee;
For a' the blude that's shed on earth
Rins through the springs o' that countrie.
Syne they came on to a garden green, 65
And she pu'd an apple frae a tree--
"Take this for thy wages, true Thomas;
It will give thee the tongue that can never lie."--
"My tongue is mine ain," true Thomas said;
"A gudely gift ye wad gie to me![L70] 70
I neither dought to buy nor sell,
At fair or tryst where I may be.
"I dought neither speak to prince or peer,
Nor ask of grace from fair ladye."--
"Now hold thy peace!" the lady said, 75
"For as I say, so must it be."--
He has gotten a coat of the even cloth,
And a pair of shoes of velvet green;
And till seven years were gane and past,
True Thomas on earth was never seen. 80
70. The traditional commentary upon this ballad informs us, that the
apple was the produce of the fatal Tree of Knowledge, and that the
garden was the terrestrial paradise. The repugnance of Thomas to be
debarred the use of falsehood, when he might find it convenient, has a
comic effect. SCOTT.
THE YOUNG TAMLANE.
The _Tayl of the Yong Tamlene_ is mentioned in the _Complaynt of
Scotland_, (1548,) and the dance of _Thom of Lyn_ is noticed in
the same work. A considerable fragment of this ballad was printed by
Herd, (vol. i. 215,) under the title of _Kertonha'_, a corruption of
Carterhaugh; another is furnished in Maidment's _New Book of Old
Ballads_, (p. 54,) and a nearly complete version in Johnson's
_Museum_, (p. 423,) which, with some alterations, was inserted in the
_Tales of Wonder_, (No. 58.) The present edition, prepared by Sir
Walter Scott from a collation of various copies, is longer than any
other, but was originally disfigured by several supposititious stanzas
here omitted. Another version, with Maidment's fragment, will be found
in the Appendix to this volume.
"Carterhaugh is a plain, at the conflux of the Ettrick and Yarrow in
Selkirkshire, about a mile above Selkirk, and two miles below Newark
Castle; a romantic ruin which overhangs the Yarrow, and which is said
to have been the habitation of our heroine's father, though others
place his residence in the tower of Oakwood. The peasants point out,
upon the plain, those electrical rings, which vulgar credulity
supposes to be traces of the Fairy revels. Here, they say, were
placed the stands of milk, and of water, in which _Tamlane_ was
dipped, in order to effect the disenchantment; and upon these spots,
according to their mode of expressing themselves, the grass will never
grow. Miles Cross, (perhaps a corruption of Mary's Cross,) where fair
Janet awaited the arrival of the Fairy train, is said to have stood
near the Duke of Buccleuch's seat of Bow-hill, about half a mile from
Carterhaugh."--(SCOTT'S _Minstrelsy_, ii. 334, at the end of a
most interesting essay, introductory to this tale, on the Fairies of
Popular Superstition.)
"O I forbid ye, maidens a',
That wear gowd on your hair,
To come or gae by Carterhaugh,
For young Tamlane is there.
"There's nane that gaes by Carterhaugh, 5
But maun leave him a wad,
Either gowd rings, or green mantles,
Or else their maidenheid.
"Now gowd rings ye may buy, maidens,
Green mantles ye may spin; 10
But, gin ye lose your maidenheid,
Ye'll ne'er get that agen."--
But up then spak her, fair Janet,
The fairest o' a' her kin;
"I'll cum and gang to Carterhaugh; 15
And ask nae leave o' him."--
Janet has kilted her green kirtle,
A little abune her knee;
And she has braided her yellow hair,
A little abune her bree. 20
And when she came to Carterhaugh,
She gaed beside the well;
And there she fand his steed standing,
But away was himsell.
She hadna pu'd a red red rose, 25
A rose but barely three;
Till up and starts a wee wee man,
At lady Janet's knee.
Says--"Why pu' ye the rose, Janet?
What gars ye break the tree? 30
Or why come ye to Carterhaugh,
Withouten leave o' me?"--
Says--"Carterhaugh it is mine ain;
My daddie gave it me;
I'll come and gang to Carterhaugh, 35
And ask nae leave o' thee."
He's ta'en her by the milk-white hand,
Among the leaves sae green;
And what they did, I cannot tell--
The green leaves were between. 40
He's ta'en her by the milk-white hand,
Among the roses red;
And what they did, I cannot say--
She ne'er return'd a maid.
When she cam to her father's ha', 45
She looked pale and wan;
They thought she'd dreed some sair sickness,
Or been with some leman.
She didna comb her yellow hair,
Nor make meikle o'er her head; 50
And ilka thing that lady took,
Was like to be her deid.
It's four and twenty ladies fair
Were playing at the ba';
Janet, the wightest of them anes, 55
Was faintest o' them a'.
Four and twenty ladies fair
Were playing at the chess;
And out there came the fair Janet,
As green as any grass. 60
Out and spak an auld grey-headed knight,
Lay o'er the castle wa',--
"And ever, alas! for thee, Janet,
But we'll be blamed a'!"--
"Now haud your tongue, ye auld grey knight! 65
And an ill deid may ye die;
Father my bairn on whom I will,
I'll father nane on thee."--
Out then spak her father dear,
And he spak meik and mild-- 70
"And ever, alas! my sweet Janet,
I fear ye gae with child."--
"And if I be with child, father,
Mysell maun bear the blame;
There's ne'er a knight about your ha' 75
Shall hae the bairnie's name.
"And if I be with child, father,
'Twill prove a wondrous birth;
For weel I swear I'm not wi' bairn
To any man on earth. 80
"If my love were an earthly knight,
As he's an elfin grey,
I wadna gie my ain true love
For nae lord that ye hae."--
She prink'd hersell and prinn'd hersell, 85
By the ae light of the moon,
And she's away to Carterhaugh,
To speak wi' young Tamlane.
And when she came to Carterhaugh,
She gaed beside the well; 90
And there she saw the steed standing,
But away was himsell.
She hadna pu'd a double rose,
A rose but only twae,
When up and started young Tamlane, 95
Says--"Lady, thou pu's nae mae!
"Why pu' ye the rose, Janet,
Within this garden grene,
And a' to kill the bonny babe,
That we got us between?" 100
"The truth ye'll tell to me, Tamlane;
A word ye mauna lie;
Gin e'er ye was in haly chapel,
Or sained in Christentie?"--
"The truth I'll tell to thee, Janet, 105
A word I winna lie;
A knight me got, and a lady me bore,
As well as they did thee.
"Randolph, Earl Murray, was my sire,
Dunbar, Earl March, is thine; 110
We loved when we were children small,
Which yet you well may mind.
"When I was a boy just turn'd of nine,
My uncle sent for me,
To hunt, and hawk, and ride with him, 115
And keep him companie.
"There came a wind out of the north,
A sharp wind and a snell;
And a deep sleep came over me,
And frae my horse I fell. 120
"The Queen of Fairies keppit me,
In yon green hill to dwell;
And I'm a fairy, lyth and limb;
Fair ladye, view me well.
"Then would I never tire, Janet, 125
In Elfish land to dwell;
But aye, at every seven years,
They pay the teind to hell;
And I am sae fat and fair of flesh,
I fear 'twill be mysell[L130]. 130
"This night is Hallowe'en, Janet,
The morn is Hollowday;
And, gin ye dare your true love win,
Ye hae nae time to stay.
"The night it is good Hallowe'en, 135
When fairy folk will ride;
And they that wad their true-love win,
At Miles Cross they maun bide."
"But how shall I thee ken, Tamlane?
Or how shall I thee knaw, 140
Amang so many unearthly knights,
The like I never saw?"
"The first company that passes by,
Say na, and let them gae;
The next company that passes by, 145
Sae na, and do right sae;
The third company that passes by,
Then I'll be ane o' thae.
"First let pass the black, Janet,
And syne let pass the brown; 150
But grip ye to the milk-white steed,
And pu' the rider down.
"For I ride on the milk-white steed,
And aye nearest the town;
Because I was a christen'd knight, 155
They gave me that renown.
"My right hand will be gloved, Janet,
My left hand will be bare;
And these the tokens I gie thee,
Nae doubt I will be there. 160
"They'll turn me in your arms, Janet,[L161]
An adder and a snake;
But had me fast, let me not pass,
Gin ye wad buy me maik.
"They'll turn me in your arms, Janet, 165
An adder and an ask;
They'll turn me in your arms, Janet,
A bale that burns fast.
"They'll turn me in your arms, Janet,
A red-hot gad o' airn; 170
But haud me fast, let me not pass,
For I'll do you no harm.
"First dip me in a stand o' milk,
And then in a stand o' water;
But had me fast, let me not pass-- 175
I'll be your bairn's father.
"And, next, they'll shape me in your arms,
A tod, but and an eel;
But had me fast, nor let me gang,
As you do love me weel. 180
"They'll shape me in your arms, Janet,
A dove, but and a swan;
And, last, they'll shape me in your arms
A mother-naked man:
Cast your green mantle over me-- 185
I'll be myself again."--
Gloomy, gloomy, was the night,
And eiry was the way,
As fair Janet, in her green mantle,
To Miles Cross she did gae. 190
Betwixt the hours of twelve and one,
A north wind tore the bent;
And straight she heard strange elritch sounds
Upon that wind which went.
About the dead hour o' the night, 195
She heard the bridles ring;
And Janet was as glad o' that
As any earthly thing.
Will o' Wisp before them went,
Sent forth a twinkling light; 200
And soon she saw the Fairy bands
All riding in her sight.
And first gaed by the black black steed,
And then gaed by the brown;
But fast she gript the milk-white steed, 205
And pu'd the rider down.
She pu'd him frae the milk-white steed,
And loot the bridle fa';
And up there raise an erlish cry--
"He's won amang us a'!"-- 210
They shaped him in fair Janet's arms,[L208]
An esk, but and an adder;
She held him fast in every shape--
To be her bairn's father.
They shaped him in her arms at last, 215
A mother-naked man:
She wrapt him in her green mantle,
And sae her true love wan!
Up then spake the Queen o' Fairies,
Out o' a bush o' broom-- 220
"She that has borrow'd young Tamlane,
Has gotten a stately groom."--
Up then spake the Queen o' Fairies,
Out o' a bush o' rye--
"She's ta'en awa the bonniest knight 225
In a' my cumpanie.
"But had I kenn'd, Tamlane," she says,
"A lady wad borrow'd thee--
I wad ta'en out thy twa grey een,
Put in twa een o' tree. 230
"Had I but kenn'd, Tamlane," she says,
"Before ye came frae hame--
I wad ta'en out your heart o' flesh,
Put in a heart o' stane.
"Had I but had the wit yestreen 235
That I hae coft the day--
I'd paid my kane seven times to hell
Ere you'd been won away!"
130, See _Thomas of Ersseldoune_, (p. 107,) v. 225, 226.
V. 161-172, v. 208-214. The same process of disenchantment is found in
the Danish ballad _Nattergalen_, st. 20-22, Grundtvig, No. 57 (also
_Svenska Folk-visor_, No. 41). The comparison with the transformations
of Proteus is curious.
[Grk: amphi de cheiras
ballomen; oud' ho geron dolies epeletheto technes;
all' etoi protista leon genet' eugeneios,
autar epeita drakon kai pordalis ede megas sus;
gigneto d' hygron hydor kai dendreon hypsipetelon.
hemeis d' astempheos echomen tetleoti thymo.]
_Odyssey_, iv. 454-59.
Verum ubi correptum manibus vinclisque tenebis,
Tum variae eludent species atque ora ferarum:
Fiet enim subito sus horridus atraque tigris,
Squamosusque draco, et fulva cervice leaena,
Aut acrem flammae sonitum dabit, atque ita vinclis
Excidet, aut in aquas tenues dilapsus abibit.
Sed quanto ille magis formas se vertet in omnes,
Tanto, nate, magis contende tenacia vincla.
_Georgics_, iv. 405-12.
THE WEE WEE MAN.
This ballad will be found, in forms slightly varying, in Herd, (i.
156;) Caw's _Poetical Museum_, (p. 348;) Motherwell's _Minstrelsy_,
(p. 343;) and Buchan's _Ancient Ballads_, (i. 263.) It bears some
resemblance to the beginning of the remarkable poem, _Als Y Yod on ay
Mounday_, (see Appendix). The present version is from the _Poetical
Museum_.
As I was walking by my lane,
Atween a water and a wa,
There sune I spied a wee wee man,
He was the least that eir I saw.
His legs were scant a shathmont's length, 5
And sma and limber was his thie;
Atween his shoulders was ae span,[L7]
About his middle war but three.
He has tane up a meikle stane,
And flang't as far as I cold see; 10
Ein thouch I had been Wallace wicht,
I dought na lift it to my knie.
"O wee wee man, but ye be strang!
Tell me whar may thy dwelling be?"
"I dwell beneth that bonnie bouir, 15
O will ye gae wi me and see?"
On we lap, and awa we rade,
Till we cam to a bonny green;
We lichted syne to bait our steid,
And out there cam a lady sheen; 20
Wi four and twentie at her back,
A' comely cled in glistering green;
Thouch there the King of Scots had stude,
The warst micht weil hae been his queen.
On syne we past wi wondering cheir, 25
Till we cam to a bonny ha;
The roof was o the beaten gowd,
The flure was o the crystal a.
When we cam there, wi wee wee knichts[L29]
War ladies dancing, jimp and sma; 30
But in the twinkling of an eie,
Baith green and ha war clein awa.
7. Much better in Motherwell.
Between his een there was a span,
Betwixt his shoulders there were ells three.
29-32.
There were pipers playing in every neuk,
And ladies dancing, jimp and sma';
And aye the owreturn o' their tune
Was, "Our wee wee man has been lang awa!"--
MOTHERWELL.
THE ELFIN KNIGHT.
Reprinted from _A Collection of Curious Old Ballads and Miscellaneous
Poetry_, Edinburgh. David Webster, 1824.
Other versions are given in Motherwell's _Minstrelsy_, (see the
Appendix to this volume;) Kinloch's _Ancient Scottish Ballads_, (p.
145;) Buchan's _Ancient Ballads_, (ii. 296.)
Similar collections of impossibilities in _The Trooper and Fair Maid_,
Buchan, i. 230; _Robin's Tesment_, _id._, i. 273, or Aytoun, 2d ed. ii.
197; _As I was walking under a grove_, _Pills to purge Melancholy_, v.
370. See also _post_, vol. ii. 224, 352, vol. iv. 132, 287; and in
German, _Von eitel unmoeglichen Dingen_, Erk's _Liederhort_, p. 334-37;
Uhland, _Eitle Dinge_, No. 4, A, B; _Wunderhorn_, ii. 410.
The Elfin knight sits on yon hill,
_Ba, ba, ba, lillie ba._
He blaws his horn baith loud and shrill.
_The wind hath blawn my plaid awa._
He blaws it east, he blaws it west,
He blaws it where he liketh best.
"I wish that horn were in my kist, 5
Yea, and the knight in my arms niest."
She had no sooner these words said,
Than the knight came to her bed.
"Thou art o'er young a maid," quoth he,
"Married with me, that thou would'st be." 10
"I have a sister, younger than I,
And she was married yesterday."
"Married with me if thou would'st be,
A curtisie thou must do to me.
"It's ye maun mak a sark to me, 15
Without any cut or seam," quoth he;
"And ye maun shape it, knife-, sheerless,
And also sew it needle-, threedless."
"If that piece of courtisie I do to thee,
Another thou must do to me. 20
"I have an aiker of good ley land,
Which lyeth low by yon sea strand;
"It's ye maun till't wi' your touting horn,
And ye maun saw't wi' the pepper corn;
"And ye maun harrow't wi' a thorn, 25
And hae your wark done ere the morn;
"And ye maun shear it wi' your knife,
And no lose a stack o't for your life;
"And ye maun stack it in a mouse hole,
And ye maun thrash it in your shoe sole; 30
"And ye maun dight it in your loof,
And also sack it in your glove;
"And ye maun bring it over the sea,[L33]
Fair, and clean, and dry to me;
"And when that ye have done your wark, 35
Come back to me, and ye'll get your sark."
"I'll not quite my plaid for my life;
It haps my seven bairnes and my wife."
"My maidenhead I'll then keep still,
Let the Elfin knight do what he will. 40
"My plaid awa, my plaid away,
And owre the hills and far awa,
And far awa to Norowa',
My plaid shall not be blawn awa."
33, thou must.
THE BROOMFIELD HILL.
A fragment of this ballad was printed in Herd's Collection, ("_I'll
wager, I'll wager_," i. 226.) The present version is from the _Border
Minstrelsy_, (iii. 28,) and we have added another from Kinloch's
_Ancient Scottish Ballads_. A somewhat longer copy is given in
Buchan's _Ballads_, (ii. 291,) and a modernized English one, of no
value, (_The West Country Wager_,) in _Ancient Poems_, &c.,
Percy Society, vol. xvii. p. 116.
_Brume, brume on hil_, is mentioned in the _Complaynt of
Scotland_, and formed part of Captain Cox's well-known collection.
A Danish ballad exhibits the same theme, though differently treated:
_Soevnerunerne_, Grundtvig, No. 81.
There was a knight and a lady bright,
Had a true tryst at the broom;
The ane ga'ed early in the morning,
The other in the afternoon.
And aye she sat in her mother's bower door, 5
And aye she made her mane,
"O whether should I gang to the Broomfield hill,
Or should I stay at hame?
"For if I gang to the Broomfield hill,
My maidenhead is gone; 10
And if I chance to stay at hame,
My love will ca' me mansworn."--
Up then spake a witch woman,
Aye from the room aboon;
"O, ye may gang to Broomfield hill, 15
And yet come maiden hame.
"For when ye come to the Broomfield hill,
Ye'll find your love asleep,
With a silver belt about his head,
And a broom-cow at his feet. 20
"Take ye the blossom of the broom,
The blossom it smells sweet,
And strew it at your true love's head,
And likewise at his feet.
"Take ye the rings off your fingers, 25
Put them on his right hand,
To let him know, when he doth awake,
His love was at his command."--
She pu'd the broom flower on Hive-hill,
And strew'd on's white hals bane, 30
And that was to be wittering true,
That maiden she had gane.
"O where were ye, my milk-white steed,
That I hae coft sae dear,
That wadna watch and waken me, 35
When there was maiden here?"--
"I stamped wi' my foot, master,
And gar'd my bridle ring;
But nae kin' thing wald waken ye,
Till she was past and gane."-- 40
"And wae betide ye, my gay goss hawk,
That I did love sae dear,
That wadna watch and waken me,
When there was maiden here."--
"I clapped wi' my wings, master, 45
And aye my bells I rang,
And aye cry'd, Waken, waken, master,
Before the ladye gang."--
"But haste and haste, my gude white steed,
To come the maiden till, 50
Or a' the birds of gude green wood
Of your flesh shall have their fill."--
"Ye needna burst your gude white steed,
Wi' racing o'er the howm;
Nae bird flies faster through the wood, 55
Than she fled through the broom."
LORD JOHN.
From Kinloch's _Ancient Scottish Ballads_, (p. 195.)
"I'll wager, I'll wager," says Lord John,
"A hundred merks and ten,
That ye winna gae to the bonnie broom-fields,
And a maid return again."--
"But I'll lay a wager wi' you, Lord John, 5
A' your merks oure again,
That I'll gae alane to the bonnie broom-fields,
And a maid return again."
Then Lord John mounted his grey steed,
And his hound wi' his bells sae bricht, 10
And swiftly he rade to the bonny broom-fields,
Wi' his hawks, like a lord or knicht.
"Now rest, now rest, my bonnie grey steed,
My lady will soon be here;
And I'll lay my head aneath this rose sae red, 15
And the bonnie burn sae near."
But sound, sound, was the sleep he took,
For he slept till it was noon;
And his lady cam at day, left a taiken and away,
Gaed as licht as a glint o' the moon. 20
She strawed the roses on the ground,
Threw her mantle on the brier,
And the belt around her middle sae jimp,
As a taiken that she'd been there.
The rustling leaves flew round his head, 25
And rous'd him frae his dream;
He saw by the roses, and mantle sae green,
That his love had been there and was gane.
"O whare was ye, my gude grey steed,
That I coft ye sae dear; 30
That ye didna waken your master,
Whan ye ken'd that his love was here."--
"I pautit wi' my foot, master,
Garr'd a' my bridles ring;
And still I cried, Waken, gude master, 35
For now is the hour and time."--
"Then whare was ye, my bonnie grey hound,
That I coft ye sae dear,
That ye didna waken your master,
Whan ye kend that his love was here."-- 40
"I pautit wi' my foot, master,
Garr'd a' my bells to ring;
And still I cried, Waken, gude master,
For now is the hour and time."--
"But whare was ye, my hawks, my hawks, 45
That I coft ye sae dear,
That ye didna waken your master,
Whan ye ken'd that his love was here."--
"O wyte na me, now, my master dear,
I garr'd a' my young hawks sing, 50
And still I cried, Waken, gude master,
For now is the hour and time."--
"Then be it sae, my wager gane!
'T will skaith frae meikle ill;
For gif I had found her in bonnie broom-fields, 55
O' her heart's blude ye'd drunken your fill."
* * * * *
The stanzas below are from an American version of this ballad called
_The Green Broomfield_, printed in a cheap song-book. (Graham's
_Illustrated Magazine_, Sept. 1858.)
"Then when she went to the green broom field,
Where her love was fast asleep,
With a gray _goose_-hawk and a green laurel bough,
And a green broom under his feet.
"And when he awoke from out his sleep,
An angry man was he;
He looked to the East, and he looked to the West,
And he wept for his sweetheart to see.
"Oh! where was you, my gray _goose_-hawk,
The hawk that I loved so dear,
That you did not awake me from out my sleep,
When my sweetheart was so near!"
KEMPION.
This ballad was first printed in the _Border Minstrelsy_, (vol. iii.
p. 230,) "chiefly from Mrs. Brown's MS. with corrections from a
recited fragment." Motherwell furnishes a different version, from
recitation, (_Minstrelsy_, p. 374,) which is subjoined to the
present, and the well-known ditty of the _Laidley Worm of
Spindleston-Heugh_, upon the same theme, will be found in the Appendix
to this volume.
"Such transformations as the song narrates," remarks Sir Walter Scott,
"are common in the annals of chivalry. In the 25th and 26th cantos of
the second book of the _Orlando Inamorato_, the Paladin, Brandimarte,
after surmounting many obstacles, penetrates into the recesses of an
enchanted palace. Here he finds a fair damsel, seated upon a tomb, who
announces to him, that, in order to achieve her deliverance, he must
raise the lid of the sepulchre, and kiss whatever being should issue
forth. The knight, having pledged his faith, proceeds to open the
tomb, out of which a monstrous snake issues forth, with a tremendous
hiss. Brandimarte, with much reluctance, fulfils the _bizarre_
conditions of the adventure; and the monster is instantly changed into
a beautiful Fairy, who loads her deliverer with benefits."
_Jomfruen i Ormeham_, in Grundtvig's _Danmarks Gamle Folkeviser_, ii.
177, is essentially the same ballad as _Kempion_. The characteristic
incident of the story (a maiden who has been transformed by her
step-mother into a snake or other monster, being restored to her
proper shape by the kiss of a knight) is as common in the popular
fiction of the North as Scott asserts it to be in chivalrous romance.
For instances, see Grundtvig, l. l., and under the closely related
_Lindormen_, ii. 211.
The name _Kempion_ is itself a monument of the relation of our ballads
to the _Kaempeviser_. Pollard of Pollard Hall, who slew "a venomous
serpent which did much harm to man and beast," is called in the modern
legend a _Champion_ Knight.
"Cum heir, cum heir, ye freely feed,
And lay your head low on my knee;
The heaviest weird I will you read,
That ever was read to gay ladye.
"O meikle dolour sall ye dree, 5
And aye the salt seas o'er ye'se swim;
And far mair dolour sall ye dree
On Estmere crags[L8], when ye them climb.
"I weird ye to a fiery beast,
And relieved sall ye never be, 10
Till Kempion, the kingis son,
Cum to the crag, and thrice kiss thee."--
O meikle dolour did she dree,
And aye the salt seas o'er she swam;
And far mair dolour did she dree 15
On Estmere crag, when she them clamb.
And aye she cried for Kempion,
Gin he would but come to her hand:
Now word has gane to Kempion,
That sicken a beast was in his land. 20
"Now, by my sooth," said Kempion,
"This fiery beast I'll gang and see."--
"And by my sooth," said Segramour,
"My ae brother, I'll gang wi' thee."
Then bigged hae they a bonny boat, 25
And they hae set her to the sea;
But a mile before they reach'd the shore,
Around them she gar'd the red fire flee.
"O Segramour, keep the boat afloat,
And let her na the land o'er near; 30
For this wicked beast will sure gae mad,
And set fire to a' the land and mair."--
Syne has he bent an arblast bow,
And aim'd an arrow at her head;
And swore if she didna quit the land, 35
Wi' that same shaft to shoot her dead.
"O out of my stythe I winna rise,
(And it is not for the awe o' thee,)
Till Kempion, the kingis son,
Cum to the crag, and thrice kiss me."-- 40
He has louted him o'er the dizzy crag,
And gien the monster kisses ane;
Awa she gaed, and again she cam.
The fieryest beast that ever was seen.
"O out o' my stythe I winna rise, 45
(And not for a' thy bow nor thee,)
Till Kempion, the kingis son,
Cum to the crag, and thrice kiss me."--
He's louted him o'er the Estmere crags,
And he has gi'en her kisses twa: 50
Awa she gaed, and again she cam,
The fieryest beast that ever you saw.
"O out of my den I winna rise,
Nor flee it for the fear o' thee,
Till Kempion, that courteous knight, 55
Cum to the crag, and thrice kiss me."--
He's louted him o'er the lofty crag,
And he has gi'en her kisses three:
Awa she gaed, and again she cam,
The loveliest ladye e'er could be! 60
"And by my sooth," says Kempion,
"My ain true love, (for this is she,)
They surely had a heart o' stane,
Could put thee to such misery.
"O was it warwolf in the wood? 65
Or was it mermaid in the sea?
Or was it man or vile woman,
My ain true love, that mis-shaped thee?"--
"It wasna warwolf in the wood,
Nor was it mermaid in the sea: 70
But it was my wicked step-mother,
And wae and weary may she be!"--
"O, a heavier weird shall light her on,
Than ever fell on vile woman;
Her hair shall grow rough, and her teeth grow lang, 75
And on her four feet shall she gang.
"None shall take pity her upon;
In Wormeswood she aye shall won;
And relieved shall she never be,
Till St. Mungo come over the sea."-- 80
And sighing said that weary wight,
"I doubt that day I'll never see!"
8. If by Estmere Crags we are to understand the rocky cliffs of
Northumberland, in opposition to Westmoreland, we may bring our
scene of action near Bamborough, and thereby almost identify the
tale of _Kempion_ with that of the _Laidley Worm of Spindleston_, to
which it bears so strong a resemblance.--SCOTT.
But why should we seek to do this?
KEMP OWYNE.
Kemp Owyne, says Motherwell, "was, no doubt, the same Ewein or Owain,
ap Urien the king of Reged, who is celebrated by the bards, Taliessin
and Llywarch-Hen, as well as in the Welsh historical Triads. In a poem
of Gruffyd Llwyd, A.D. 1400, addressed to Owain Glyndwr, is the
following allusion to this warrior. 'Thou hast travelled by land and
by sea in the conduct of thine affairs, like Owain ap Urien in days of
yore, when with activity he encountered the black knight of the
water.'[C] His mistress had a ring esteemed one of the thirteen
rarities of Britain, which, (like the wondrous ring of Gyges) would
render the wearer invisible." _Minstrelsy_, p. lxxxiii.
[C] "On sea, on land, thou still didst brave
The dangerous cliff and rapid wave;
Like _Urien_, who subdued the knight,
And the fell dragon put to flight,
Yon moss-grown fount beside;
The grim, black warrior of the flood,
The dragon, gorged with human blood,
The waters' scaly pride."
Jones's _Welsh Bards_, i. 41.
The copy of Kemp Owyne printed in Buchan's _Ancient Ballads_, (ii.
78,) is the same as the following.
Her mother died when she was young,
Which gave her cause to make great moan;
Her father married the warst woman
That ever lived in Christendom.
She served her with foot and hand, 5
In every thing that she could dee;
Till once, in an unlucky time,
She threw her in ower Craigy's sea.
Says, "Lie you there, dove Isabel,
And all my sorrows lie with thee; 10
Till Kemp Owyne come ower the sea,
And borrow you with kisses three,
Let all the warld do what they will,
Oh borrowed shall you never be."
Her breath grew strang, her hair grew lang, 15
And twisted thrice about the tree,
And all the people, far and near,
Thought that a savage beast was she;
This news did come to Kemp Owyne,
Where he lived far beyond the sea. 20
He hasted him to Craigy's sea,
And on the savage beast look'd he;
Her breath was strang, her hair was lang,
And twisted was about the tree,
And with a swing she came about: 25
"Come to Craigy's sea, and kiss with me.
"Here is a royal belt," she cried,
"That I have found in the green sea;
And while your body it is on,
Drawn shall your blood never be; 30
But if you touch me, tail or fin,
I vow my belt your death shall be."
He stepped in, gave her a kiss,
The royal belt he brought him wi';
Her breath was strang, her hair was lang, 35
And twisted twice about the tree,
And with a swing she came about:
"Come to Craigy's sea, and kiss with me.
"Here is a royal ring," she said,
"That I have found in the green sea; 40
And while your finger it is on,
Drawn shall your blood never be;
But if you touch me, tail or fin,
I swear my ring your death shall be."
He stepped in, gave her a kiss, 45
The royal ring he brought him wi';
Her breath was strang, her hair was lang,
And twisted ance around the tree,
And with a swing she came about:
"Come to Craigy's sea, and kiss with me. 50
"Here is a royal brand," she said,
"That I have found in the green sea;
And while your body it is on,
Drawn shall your blood never be;
But if you touch me, tail or fin, 55
I swear my brand your death shall be."
He stepped in, gave her a kiss,
The royal brand he brought him wi';
Her breath was sweet, her hair grew short,
And twisted nane about the tree; 60
And smilingly she came about,
As fair a woman as fair could be.
KING HENRY.
A modernized copy of King Henry was published in the _Tales of
Wonder_, (No 57,) under the title of _Courteous King Jamie_. It first
appeared in an ancient dress in the _Border Minstrelsy_, (iii. 274,)
but a version preferable in some respects was given by Jamieson in his
_Popular Ballads_, (ii. 194,) which is here printed, without the
editor's interpolations. For a notice of similar legends, see the
_Marriage of Sir Gawaine_, at page 28 of this volume.
Lat never a man a wooing wend,
That lacketh thingis three;
A routh o' gould, an open heart,
Ay fu' o' charity.
As this I speak of King Henry, 5
For he lay burd-alane;
And he's doen him to a jelly hunt's ha',
Was far frae ony town.
He chas'd the deer now him before,
And the roe down by the den, 10
Till the fattest buck in a' the flock
King Henry he has slain.
O he has doen him to his ha',
To mak him bierly cheer;
And in it cam a grisly ghost, 15
Staed stappin' i' the fleer.
Her head hat the roof-tree o' the house,
Her middle ye mat weel span;--
He's thrown to her his gay mantle;
Says,--"Ladie, hap your lingcan." 20
Her teeth was a' like leather stakes,
Her nose like club or mell;
And I ken nae thing she 'pear'd to be,
But the fiend that wons in hell.
"Some meat, some meat, ye King Henry; 25
Some meat ye gie to me."
"And what meat's in this house, Ladie?
And what ha'e I to gi'e?"
"Its ye do kill your berry-brown steed,
And ye bring him here to me." 30
O whan he slew his berry-brown steed,
Wow but his heart was sair!
She ate him a' up, flesh and bane,
Left naething but hide and hair.
"Mair meat, mair meat, ye King Henry, 35
Mair meat ye bring to me."
"And what meat's in this house, Ladie?
And what hae I to gi'e?"
"O ye do kill your good grey hounds,
And ye bring them in to me." 40
O whan he killed his good grey hounds,
Wow but his heart was sair!
She ate them a' up, flesh and bane,
Left naething but hide and hair.
"Mair meat, mair meat, ye King Henry, 45
Mair meat ye bring to me."
"And what meat's in this house, Ladie?
And what hae I to gi'e?"
"O ye do kill your gay goss hawks,
And ye bring them here to me." 50
O whan he kill'd his gay goss hawks,
Wow but his heart was sair!
She ate them a' up, skin and bane,
Left naething but feathers bare.
"Some drink, some drink, now, King Henry; 55
Some drink ye bring to me."
"O what drink's in this house, Ladie,
That ye're nae welcome tee?"
"O ye sew up your horse's hide,
And bring in a drink to me." 60
And he's sew'd up the bloody hide,
A puncheon o' wine put in;
She drank it a' up at a waught,
Left na ae drap ahin'.
"A bed, a bed, now, King Henry, 65
A bed ye mak to me;
For ye maun pu' the heather green,
And mak a bed to me."
And pu'd has he the heather green,
And made to her a bed; 70
And up he's ta'en his gay mantle,
And o'er it has he spread.
"Tak aff your claiths, now, King Henry,
And lye down by my side;"
"O God forbid," says King Henry, 75
"That ever the like betide;
That ever the fiend that wons in hell,
Should streek down by my side."
* * * * *
Whan nicht was gane, and day was come,
And the sun shone thro' the ha', 80
The fairest lady that ever was seen
Lay atween him and the wa'.
"O weel is me!" says King Henry;
"How lang'll this last wi' me?"
Then out it spake that fair lady,-- 85
"E'en till the day you die.
"For I've met wi' mony a gentle knicht,
That gae me sic a fill;
But never before wi' a curteis knicht,
That gae me a' my will." 90
COSPATRICK.
(_Border Minstrelsy_, iii. 263.)
This ballad, which is still very popular, is known under various other
names, as _Bothwell_, _Child Brenton_, _Lord Dingwall_, _We were
Sisters_, _We were Seven_, &c. Scott's version was derived principally
from recitation, but some of the concluding stanzas were taken from
Herd's. Herd's copy, which must be regarded as a fragment, is given in
connection with the present, and Buchan's in the Appendix to this
volume. Another edition, of a suspicious character, may be seen in
Cromek's _Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song_, (p. 205.) All the
principal incidents of the story are found in _Ingefred og Gudrune,
Danske Viser_, No. 194, translated by Jamieson, _Illustrations_ p. 340.
More or less imperfect versions of the same are _Riddar Olle, Svenska
Folk-Visor_, ii. p. 217, 59, 56, 215, and _Herr Aester och Froeken Sissa_,
p. 50. The substitution of the maid-servant for the bride, occurs also
in _Torkild Trundesoen, Danske V._, No. 200, or _Thorkil Troneson_,
Arwidsson, No. 36. This idea was perhaps derived from _Tristan and
Isold_: see Scott's _Sir Tristrem_, II. 54, 55.
Cospatrick has sent o'er the faem;
Cospatrick brought his ladye hame;
And fourscore ships have come her wi',
The ladye by the grene-wood tree.
There were twal' and twal' wi' baken bread, 5
And twal' and twal' wi' gowd sae reid,
And twal' and twal' wi' bouted flour,
And twal' and twal' wi' the paramour.
Sweet Willy was a widow's son,
And at her stirrup he did run; 10
And she was clad in the finest pall,
But aye she let the tears down fall.
"O is your saddle set awrye?
Or rides your steed for you ower high?
Or are you mourning, in your tide, 15
That you suld be Cospatrick's bride?"
"I am not mourning, at this tide,
That I suld be Cospatrick's bride;
But I am sorrowing in my mood,
That I suld leave my mother good. 20
"But, gentle boy, come tell to me,
What is the custom of thy countrie?"--
"The custom thereof, my dame," he says,
"Will ill a gentle laydye please.
"Seven king's daughters has our lord wedded, 25
And seven king's daughters has our lord bedded;
But he's cutted their breasts frae their breast-bane,
And sent them mourning hame again.
"Yet, gin you're sure that you're a maid,
Ye may gae safely to his bed; 30
But gif o' that ye be na sure,
Then hire some damsell o' your bour."--
The ladye's call'd her bour maiden,
That waiting was into her train;
"Five thousand merks I'll gie to thee, 35
To sleep this night with my lord for me."--
When bells were rang, and mass was sayne,
And a' men unto bed were gane,
Cospatrick and the bonny maid,
Into a chamber they were laid. 40
"Now, speak to me, blankets, and speak to me, bed,
And speak, thou sheet, enchanted web;
And speak up, my bonny brown sword, that winna lie,
Is this a true maiden that lies by me?"--
"It is not a maid that you hae wedded, 45
But it is a maid that you hae bedded;
It is a leal maiden that lies by thee,
But not the maiden that it should be."--
O wrathfully he left the bed,
And wrathfully his claes on did; 50
And he has ta'en him through the ha',
And on his mother he did ca'.
"I am the most unhappy man,
That ever was in Christen land!
I courted a maiden, meik and mild, 55
And I hae gotten naething but a woman wi' child."--
"O stay, my son, into this ha',
And sport ye wi' your merry men a';
And I will to the secret bour,
To see how it fares wi' your paramour."-- 60
The carline she was stark and sture,
She aff the hinges dang the dure;
"O is your bairn to laird or loun,
Or is it to your father's groom?"--
"O hear me, mother, on my knee, 65
Till my sad story I tell to thee:
O we were sisters, sisters seven,
We were the fairest under heaven.
"It fell on a summer's afternoon,
When a' our toilsome task was done, 70
We cast the kevils us amang,
To see which suld to the grene-wood gang.
"Ohon! alas, for I was youngest,
And aye my wierd it was the hardest!
The kevil it on me did fa', 75
Whilk was the cause of a' my woe.
"For to the grene-wood I maun gae,
To pu' the red rose and the slae;
To pu' the red rose and the thyme,
To deck my mother's bour and mine. 80
"I hadna pu'd a flower but ane,
When by there came a gallant hende,
Wi' high-coll'd hose and laigh-coll'd shoon,
And he seem'd to be sum kingis son.
"And be I a maid, or be I nae, 85
He kept me there till the close o' day;
And be I a maid, or be I nane,
He kept me there till the day was done.
"He gae me a lock o' his yellow hair,
And bade me keep it ever mair; 90
He gae me a carknet o' bonny beads,
And bade me keep it against my needs.
"He gae to me a gay gold ring,
And bade me keep it abune a' thing."--
"What did ye wi' the tokens rare, 95
That ye gat frae that gallant there?"--
"O bring that coffer unto me,
And a' the tokens ye sall see."--
"Now stay, daughter, your bour within,
While I gae parley wi' my son."-- 100
O she has ta'en her thro' the ha',
And on her son began to ca';
"What did ye wi' the bonny beads
I bade you keep against your needs?
"What did you wi' the gay gold ring 105
I bade you keep abune a' thing?"--
"I gae them to a ladye gay,
I met on grene-wood on a day.
"But I wad gie a' my halls and tours,
I had that ladye within my bours; 110
But I wad gie my very life,
I had that ladye to my wife."--
"Now keep, my son, your ha's and tours,
Ye have the bright burd in your bours;
And keep, my son, your very life, 115
Ye have that ladye to your wife."--
Now, or a month was come and gane,
The ladye bare a bonny son;
And 'twas weel written on his breast-bane,
"Cospatrick[L120] is my father's name." 120
"O row my lady in satin and silk,
And wash my son in the morning milk."
120, Cospatrick, _Comes Patricius_, was the designation of the Earl of
Dunbar, in the days of Wallace and Bruce.--SCOTT.
BOTHWELL.
From Herd's _Scottish Songs_, (i. 143.)
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', 5
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 cry'd and made great moan,
And ay the tear came trickling down. 10
"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, 15
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 every hill; 20
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 called upon her maids by seven, 25
To mak his bed baith saft and even:
She's called 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? 30
"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 not maid nor maiden am, 35
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: 40
"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 father of my bairn.
"But as I walk'd in the lowlands my lane, 45
I met a gentleman gallant and fine;
"He keepit me there sae late and sae lang,
Frae the ev'ning 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, 50
"Three lauchters of his yellow hair,
In case that we shou'd 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?" 55
"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, 60
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." 65
"O row my lady in sattin and silk,
And wash my son in the morning milk."
WILLIE'S LADYE.
Printed from Mrs. Brown's MS., in the _Border Minstrelsy_, vol. iii.
p. 170. Another copy is given in Jamieson's _Popular Ballads_, (ii.
367,) and versions, enlarged and altered from the ancient, in the same
work, (ii. 179,) and in _Tales of Wonder_, No. 56. This ballad bears
a striking resemblance to _Sir Stig and Lady Torelild_, translated
from the Danish by Jamieson, _Illustrations of Northern Antiquities_,
p. 344. This is the eighth (marked H) of nine Danish ballads given by
Grundtvig, under the title _Hustru og Mands Moder_, vol. ii. 404.
Three Swedish versions have been printed: two in Arwidsson's
_Fornsanger, Liten Kerstins Foertrollning_, ii. 252, and another
(Grundtvig) in Cavallius and Stephens's _Svenska Folksagor_.
"Those who wish to know how an incantation, or charm, of the
distressing nature here described, was performed in classic days, may
consult the story of Galanthis's Metamorphosis, in Ovid, or the
following passage in Apuleius: 'Eadem (saga, scilicet, quaedam)
amatoris uxorem, quod in eam dicacule probrum dixerat, jam in sarcinam
praegnationis, obsepto utero, et repigrato f[oe]tu, perpetua praegnatione
damnavit. Et ut cuncti numerant, octo annorum onere, misella illa,
velut elephantum paritura, distenditur.' APUL. _Metam._ lib. i.
"There is a curious tale about a Count of Westeravia, whom a deserted
concubine bewitched upon his marriage, so as to preclude all hopes of
his becoming a father. The spell continued to operate for three years,
till one day, the Count happening to meet with his former mistress,
she maliciously asked him about the increase of his family. The Count,
conceiving some suspicion from her manner, craftily answered, that God
had blessed him with three fine children; on which she exclaimed, like
Willie's mother in the ballad, "May heaven confound the old hag, by
whose counsel I threw an enchanted pitcher into the draw-well of your
palace!" The spell being found, and destroyed, the Count became the
father of a numerous family. _Hierarchie of the Blessed Angels_, p.
474." SCOTT.
Willie's ta'en him o'er the faem,
He's wooed a wife, and brought her hame;
He's wooed her for her yellow hair,
But his mother wrought her meikle care;
And meikle dolour gar'd her dree, 5
For lighter she can never be;
But in her bower she sits wi' pain,
And Willie mourns o'er her in vain.
And to his mother he has gane,
That vile rank witch, o' vilest kind! 10
He says--"My ladie has a cup,
Wi' gowd and silver set about;
This gudely gift sall be your ain,
And let her be lighter o' her young bairn."--
"Of her young bairn she's never be lighter, 15
Nor in her bour to shine the brighter:
But she sall die, and turn to clay,
And you sall wed another may."--
"Another may I'll never wed,
Another may I'll never bring hame:"-- 20
But, sighing, said that weary wight--
"I wish my life were at an end!
"Yet gae ye to your mother again,
That vile rank witch, o' vilest kind!
And say, your ladye has a steed, 25
The like o' him's no in the land o' Leed.
"For he is silver shod before,
And he is gowden shod behind;
At every tuft of that horse mane,
There's a golden chess, and a bell to ring. 30
This gudely gift sall be her ain,
And let me be lighter o' my young bairn."--
"Of her young bairn she's ne'er be lighter,
Nor in her bour to shine the brighter;
But she sall die, and turn to clay, 35
And ye sall wed another may."--
"Another may I'll never wed,
Another may I'll never bring hame:"--
But, sighing, said that weary wight--
"I wish my life were at an end!-- 40
"Yet gae ye to your mother again,
That vile rank witch, o' rankest kind!
And say your ladye has a girdle,
It's a' red gowd to the middle;
"And aye, at ilka siller hem 45
Hang fifty siller bells and ten;
This gudely gift sall be her ain,
And let me be lighter o' my young bairn."--
"Of her young bairn she's ne'er be lighter,
Nor in your bour to shine the brighter; 50
For she sall die, and turn to clay,
And thou sall wed another may."--
"Another may I'll never wed,
Another may I'll never bring hame;"--
But, sighing, said that weary wight-- 55
"I wish my days were at an end!"--
Then out and spak the Billy Blind,[L57]
(He spak aye in good time:)
"Yet gae ye to the market-place,
And there do buy a loaf of wace; 60
Do shape it bairn and bairnly like,
And in it twa glassen een you'll put;
"And bid her your boy's christening to,
Then notice weel what she shall do;
And do you stand a little away, 65
To notice weel what she may say."
[L67]He did him to the market-place,
And there he bought a loaf[L68] o' wax;
He shaped it bairn and bairnly like,
And in twa glazen een he pat; 70
He did him till his mither then,
And bade her to his boy's christnin;
And he did stand a little forbye,
And noticed well what she did say.
"O wha has loosed the nine witch knots, 75
That were amang that ladye's locks?
And wha's ta'en out the kaims o' care,
That were amang that ladye's hair?
"And wha has ta'en down that bush o' woodbine,
That hung between her bour and mine? 80
And wha has kill'd the master kid,[L81]
That ran beneath that ladye's bed?
And wha has loosed her left foot shee,
And let that ladye lighter be?"
Syne, Willy's loosed the nine witch knots, 85
That were amang that ladye's locks;
And Willie's ta'en out the kaims o' care,
That were into that ladye's hair;
And he's ta'en down the bush o' woodbine,
Hung atween her bour and the witch carline; 90
And he has kill'd the master kid,
That ran beneath that ladye's bed;
And he has loosed her left foot shee,
And latten that ladye lighter be;
And now he has gotten a bonny son, 95
And meikle grace be him upon.
57. _Billy Blind_--A familiar genius, or propitious spirit, somewhat
similar to the _Brownie_.
67-74. Inserted from Jamieson's copy.
68. _leaf_, Jamieson.
81. The witch's chief familiar, placed in the chamber of the sick woman
in the form of a kid.
ALISON GROSS.
Jamieson's _Popular Ballads_, ii. 187.
FROM THE RECITATION OF MRS. BROWN.
The beginning is to be compared with _Lindormen_, the whole ballad
with _Jomfruen i Ormeham_, Grundtvig's _Folkeviser_, ii. 213, 177.
O Alison Gross, that lives in yon tower,
The ugliest witch in the north countrie,
Has trysted me ae day up till her bower,
And mony fair speech she made to me.
She straiked my head, and she kembed my hair, 5
And she set me down saftly on her knee,
Says,--"Gin ye will be my lemman sae true,
Sae mony braw things as I would you gi'e."
She shaw'd me a mantle o' red scarlet,
Wi' gouden flowers and fringes fine, 10
Says "Gin ye will be my lemman sae true,
This goodly gift it sall be thine."
"Awa, awa, ye ugly witch,
Haud far awa, and lat me be;
I never will be your lemman sae true, 15
And I wish I were out of your company."
She neist brocht a sark o' the saftest silk,
Weel wrought wi' pearls about the band;
Says,--"Gin ye will be my ain true love,
This goodly gift ye sall command." 20
She shaw'd me a cup o' the good red goud,
Weel set wi' jewels sae fair to see;
Says,--"Gin ye will be my lemman sae true,
This goodly gift I will you gie."
"Awa, awa, ye ugly witch! 25
Haud far awa, and lat me be;
For I wadna ance kiss your ugly mouth
For a' the gifts that ye cou'd gie."
She's turned her richt and round about,
And thrice she blew on a grass-green horn; 30
And she sware by the moon and the stars aboon,
That she'd gar me rue the day I was born.
Then out has she ta'en a silver wand,
And she's turned her three times round and round;
She's mutter'd sic words, that my strength it fail'd, 35
And I fell down senseless on the ground.
She's turn'd me into an ugly worm,
And gar'd me toddle about the tree;
And ay, on ilka Saturday's night,
My sister Maisry came to me, 40
Wi' silver bason, and silver kemb,
To kemb my headie upon her knee;
But or I had kiss'd her ugly mouth,
I'd rather hae toddled about the tree.
But as it fell out on last Hallowe'en, 45
When the Seely Court[L46] was ridin' by,
The queen lighted down on a gowan bank,
Nae far frae the tree whare I wont to lye.
She took me up in her milk-white hand,
And she straiked me three times o'er her knee; 50
She changed me again to my ain proper shape,
And I nae mair maun toddle about the tree.
46. _Seely Court_, i.e. "pleasant or happy court," or "court of the
pleasant and happy people." This agrees with the ancient and more
legitimate idea of Fairies. JAMIESON. See p. 120, v. 131, _et seq._
THE EARL OF MAR'S DAUGHTER.
From Buchan's _Ancient Ballads and Songs of the North of Scotland_,
(i. 49.)
It is much to be regretted that this piece has not come down to us in
a purer and more ancient form. Similar ballads are found in Danish,
Swedish, and Faroish. Several forms of the Danish are given by
Grundtvig (_Ridderen i Fugleham_, No. 68), who also cites many
popular tales which have the same basis, e.g. the Countess d'Aulnoy's
fairy story of _The Blue Bird_.
It was intill a pleasant time,
Upon a simmer's day;
The noble Earl of Mar's daughter
Went forth to sport and play.
As thus she did amuse hersell, 5
Below a green aik tree,
There she saw a sprightly doo
Set on a tower sae hie.
"O Cow-me-doo, my love sae true,
If ye'll come down to me, 10
Ye'se hae a cage o' guid red gowd
Instead o' simple tree:
"I'll put gowd hingers roun' your cage,
And siller roun' your wa';
I'll gar ye shine as fair a bird 15
As ony o' them a'."
But she had nae these words well spoke,
Nor yet these words well said,
Till Cow-me-doo flew frae the tower,
And lighted on her head. 20
Then she has brought this pretty bird
Hame to her bowers and ha';
And made him shine as fair a bird
As ony o' them a'.
When day was gane, and night was come, 25
About the evening tide,
This lady spied a sprightly youth
Stand straight up by her side.
"From whence came ye, young man?" she said,
"That does surprise me sair; 30
My door was bolted right secure;
What way ha'e ye come here?"
"O had your tongue, ye lady fair,
Lat a' your folly be;
Mind ye not on your turtle doo 35
Last day ye brought wi' thee?"
"O tell me mair, young man," she said,
"This does surprise me now;
What country ha'e ye come frae?
What pedigree are you?" 40
"My mither lives on foreign isles,
She has nae mair but me;
She is a queen o' wealth and state,
And birth and high degree;
"Likewise well skill'd in magic spells, 45
As ye may plainly see;
And she transform'd me to yon shape,
To charm such maids as thee.
"I am a doo the live lang day,
A sprightly youth at night; 50
This aye gars me appear mair fair
In a fair maiden's sight.
"And it was but this verra day
That I came ower the sea;
Your lovely face did me enchant,-- 55
I'll live and dee wi' thee."
"O Cow-me-doo, my luve sae true,
Nae mair frae me ye'se gae."
"That's never my intent, my luve,
As ye said, it shall be sae." 60
"O Cow-me-doo, my luve sae true,
It's time to gae to bed."
"Wi' a' my heart, my dear marrow,
It's be as ye ha'e said."
Then he has staid in bower wi' her 65
For sax lang years and ane,
Till sax young sons to him she bare,
And the seventh she's brought hame.
But aye as ever a child was born,
He carried them away, 70
And brought them to his mither's care,
As fast as he cou'd fly.
Thus he has staid in bower wi' her
For twenty years and three;
There came a lord o' high renown 75
To court this fair ladie.
But still his proffer she refused,
And a' his presents too;
Says, "I'm content to live alane
Wi' my bird, Cow-me-doo." 80
Her father sware a solemn oath
Amang the nobles all,
"The morn, or ere I eat or drink,
This bird I will gar kill."
The bird was sitting in his cage, 85
And heard what they did say;
And when he found they were dismist,
Says, "Waes me for this day!
"Before that I do langer stay,
And thus to be forlorn, 90
I'll gang unto my mither's bower,
Where I was bred and born."
Then Cow-me-doo took flight and flew
Beyond the raging sea;
And lighted near his mither's castle 95
On a tower o' gowd sae hie.
As his mither was wauking out,
To see what she coud see,
And there she saw her little son
Set on the tower sae hie. 100
"Get dancer here to dance," she said,
"And minstrells for to play;
For here's my young son, Florentine,
Come here wi' me to stay."
"Get nae dancers to dance, mither, 105
Nor minstrells for to play;
For the mither o' my seven sons,
The morn's her wedding-day."
"O tell me, tell me, Florentine,
Tell me, and tell me true, 110
Tell me this day without a flaw,
What I will do for you."
"Instead of dancers to dance, mither,
Or minstrells for to play,
Turn four-and-twenty wall-wight men, 115
Like storks, in feathers gray;
"My seven sons in seven swans,
Aboon their heads to flee;
And I, mysell, a gay gos-hawk,
A bird o' high degree." 120
Then sichin' said the queen hersell,
"That thing's too high for me;"
But she applied to an auld woman,
Who had mair skill than she.
Instead o' dancers to dance a dance, 125
Or minstrells for to play,
Four-and-twenty wall-wight men
Turn'd birds o' feathers gray;
Her seven sons in seven swans,
Aboon their heads to flee; 130
And he, himsell, a gay gos-hawk,
A bird o' high degree.
This flock o' birds took flight and flew
Beyond the raging sea;
And landed near the Earl Mar's castle, 135
Took shelter in every tree.
They were a flock o' pretty birds,
Right comely to be seen;
The people view'd them wi' surprise,
As they danc'd on the green. 140
These birds ascended frae the tree,
And lighted on the ha';
And at the last wi' force did flee
Among the nobles a'.
The storks there seized some o' the men, 145
They cou'd neither fight nor flee;
The swans they bound the bride's best man,
Below a green aik tree.
They lighted next on maidens fair,
Then on the bride's own head; 150
And wi' the twinkling o' an e'e,
The bride and them were fled.
There's ancient men at weddings been,
For sixty years or more;
But sic a curious wedding-day 155
They never saw before.
For naething cou'd the companie do,
Nor naething cou'd they say;
But they saw a flock o' pretty birds
That took their bride away. 160
When that Earl Mar he came to know
Where his dochter did stay,
He sign'd a bond o' unity,
And visits now they pay.
YOUNG AKIN.
Mr. Kinloch printed a fragment of this ballad under the title of
_Hynde Etin_. (See Appendix.) The story was afterwards given
complete by Buchan, (_Ballads of the North of Scotland_, i. 6,)
as here follows. Buchan had previously communicated to Motherwell a
modernized version of the same tale, in which the Etin is changed to
a Groom. (See _post_.)
This ancient ballad has suffered severely in the course of its
transmission to our times. Still there can be no doubt that it was
originally the same as _The Maid and the Dwarf King_, which is
still sung in Denmark, Norway, Sweden, and the Faroe Islands. Numerous
copies of the Scandinavian ballad have been given to the world: seven
Danish versions, more or less complete, four Norse, nine Swedish, one
Faroish, and some other fragments (Grundtvig, ii. 37, and note, p.
655). One of the Swedish ballads (_Bergkonungen_, Afzelius, No.
35) is translated in Keightley's _Fairy Mythology_, 103, under the
title of _Proud Margaret_. Closely related is _Agnete og Havmanden_,
Grundtvig, ii. 48, 656, which is found in several forms in German (e.g.
_Die schoene Hannele_ in Hoffmann von Fallersleben's _Schlesische
Volkslieder_, No. 1), and two in Slavic.
Lady Margaret sits in her bower door,
Sewing at her silken seam;
She heard a note in Elmond's-wood,
And wish'd she there had been.
She loot the seam fa' frae her side, 5
And the needle to her tae;
And she is on to Elmond-wood
As fast as she coud gae.
She hadna pu'd a nut, a nut,
Nor broken a branch but ane, 10
Till by it came a young hind chiel,
Says, "Lady, lat alane.
"O why pu' ye the nut, the nut,
Or why brake ye the tree?
For I am forester o' this wood: 15
Ye shou'd spier leave at me."
"I'll ask leave at no living man,
Nor yet will I at thee;
My father is king o'er a' this realm,
This wood belongs to me." 20
She hadna pu'd a nut, a nut,
Nor broken a branch but three,
Till by it came him Young Akin,
And gar'd her lat them be.
The highest tree in Elmond's-wood, 25
He's pu'd it by the reet;
And he has built for her a bower
Near by a hallow seat.
He's built a bower, made it secure
Wi' carbuncle and stane; 30
Tho' travellers were never sae nigh,
Appearance it had nane.
He's kept her there in Elmond's-wood,
For six lang years and one;
Till six pretty sons to him she bear, 35
And the seventh she's brought home.
It fell ance upon a day,
This guid lord went from home;
And he is to the hunting gane,
Took wi' him his eldest son. 40
And when they were on a guid way,
Wi' slowly pace did walk,
The boy's heart being something wae,
He thus began to talk:--
"A question I wou'd ask, father, 45
Gin ye wou'dna angry be?"
"Say on, say on, my bonny boy,
Ye'se nae be quarrell'd by me."
"I see my mither's cheeks aye weet,
I never can see them dry; 50
And I wonder what aileth my mither,
To mourn continually."
"Your mither was a king's daughter,
Sprung frae a high degree;
And she might hae wed some worthy prince, 55
Had she nae been stown by me.
"I was her father's cup-bearer,
Just at that fatal time;
I catch'd her on a misty night,
Whan summer was in prime. 60
"My luve to her was most sincere,
Her luve was great for me;
But when she hardships doth endure,
Her folly she does see."
"I'll shoot the buntin' o' the bush, 65
The linnet o' the tree,
And bring them to my dear mither,
See if she'll merrier be."
It fell upo' another day,
This guid lord he thought lang, 70
And he is to the hunting gane,
Took wi' him his dog and gun.
Wi' bow and arrow by his side,
He's aff, single, alane;
And left his seven children to stay 75
Wi' their mither at hame.
"O, I will tell to you, mither,
Gin ye wadna angry be:"
"Speak on, speak on, my little wee boy,
Ye'se nae be quarrell'd by me." 80
"As we came frae the hynd hunting,
We heard fine music ring:"
"My blessings on you, my bonny boy,
I wish I'd been there my lane."
He's ta'en his mither by the hand, 85
His six brithers also,
And they are on thro' Elmond's-wood,
As fast as they coud go.
They wistna weel where they were gaen,
Wi' the stratlins o' their feet; 90
They wistna weel where they were gaen,
Till at her father's yate.
"I hae nae money in my pocket,
But royal rings hae three;
I'll gie them you, my little young son, 95
And ye'll walk there for me.
"Ye'll gi'e the first to the proud porter,[L97]
And he will lat you in;
Ye'll gi'e the next to the butler boy,
And he will show you ben; 100
"Ye'll gi'e the third to the minstrel
That plays before the king;
He'll play success to the bonny boy
Came thro' the wood him lane."
He ga'e the first to the proud porter, 105
And he open'd an' let him in;
He ga'e the next to the butler boy,
And he has shown him ben;
He ga'e the third to the minstrel
That play'd before the king; 110
And he play'd success to the bonny boy
Came thro' the wood him lane.
Now when he came before the king,
Fell low down on his knee:
The king he turned round about, 115
And the saut tear blinded his ee.
"Win up, win up, my bonny boy,
Gang frae my companie;
Ye look sae like my dear daughter,
My heart will birst in three." 120
"If I look like your dear daughter,
A wonder it is none;
If I look like your dear daughter,
I am her eldest son."
"Will ye tell me, ye little wee boy, 125
Where may my Margaret be?"
"She's just now standing at your yates,
And my six brithers her wi'."
"O where are all my porter boys
That I pay meat and fee, 130
To open my yates baith wide and braid?
Let her come in to me."
When she came in before the king,
Fell low down on her knee:
"Win up, win up, my daughter dear, 135
This day ye'll dine wi me."
"Ae bit I canno' eat, father,
Nor ae drop can I drink,
Till I see my mither and sister dear,
For lang for them I think." 140
When she came before the queen,
Fell low down on her knee:
"Win up, win up, my daughter dear,
This day ye'se dine wi' me."
"Ae bit I canno' eat, mither, 145
Nor ae drop can I drink,
Until I see my dear sister,
For lang for her I think."
When that these two sisters met,
She hail'd her courteouslie: 150
"Come ben, come ben, my sister dear,
This day ye'se dine wi' me."
"Ae bit I canno' eat, sister,
Nor ae drop can I drink,
Until I see my dear husband, 155
For lang for him I think."
"O where are all my rangers bold
That I pay meat and fee,
To search the forest far an' wide,
And bring Akin to me?" 160
Out it speaks the wee little boy,--
"Na, na, this maunna be;
Without ye grant a free pardon,
I hope ye'll nae him see."
"O here I grant a free pardon, 165
Well seal'd by my own han';
Ye may make search for young Akin,
As soon as ever you can."
They search'd the country wide and braid,
The forests far and near, 170
And found him into Elmond's-wood,
Tearing his yellow hair.
"Win up, win up, now young Akin.
Win up, and boun wi' me;
We're messengers come from the court; 175
The king wants you to see."
"O lat him take frae me my head,
Or hang me on a tree;
For since I've lost my dear lady,
Life's no pleasure to me." 180
"Your head will nae be touch'd, Akin,
Nor hang'd upon a tree:
Your lady's in her father's court,
And all he wants is thee."
When he came in before the king, 185
Fell low down on his knee:
"Win up, win up now, young Akin,
This day ye'se dine wi' me."
But as they were at dinner set,
The boy asked a boun; 190
"I wish we were in the good church,
For to get christendoun.
"We ha'e lived in guid green wood
This seven years and ane;
But a' this time since e'er I mind, 195
Was never a church within."
"Your asking 's nae sae great, my boy,
But granted it shall be;
This day to guid church ye shall gang,
And your mither shall gang you wi'." 200
When unto the guid church she came,
She at the door did stan';
She was sae sair sunk down wi' shame,
She coudna come farer ben.
Then out it speaks the parish priest, 205
And a sweet smile gae he;---
"Come ben, come ben, my lily flower,
Present your babes to me."
Charles, Vincent, Sam, and Dick,
And likewise James and John; 210
They call'd the eldest Young Akin,
Which was his father's name.
Then they staid in the royal court,
And liv'd wi' mirth and glee;
And when her father was deceas'd, 215
Heir of the crown was she.
97. The regular propitiation for the "proud porter" of ballad poetry.
See, e.g. _King Arthur and the King of Cornwall_, in the Appendix, v.
49: also the note to _King Estmere_, vol. iii. p. 172.
YOUNG HASTINGS THE GROOM.
(Motherwell's _Minstrelsy_, p. 287.)
"O well love I to ride in a mist,
And shoot in a northern wind;
And far better a lady to steal,
That's come of a noble kind."
Four-and-twenty fair ladies 5
Put on that lady's sheen;
And as many young gentlemen
Did lead her o'er the green.
Yet she preferred before them all
Him, young Hastings the Groom; 10
He's coosten a mist before them all,
And away this lady has ta'en.
He's taken the lady on him behind,
Spared neither the grass nor corn,
Till they came to the wood of Amonshaw, 15
Where again their loves were sworn.
And they have lived in that wood
Full many a year and day,
And were supported from time to time,
By what he made of prey. 20
And seven bairns, fair and fine,
There she has born to him,
And never was in good church door,
Nor never gat good kirking.
Once she took harp into her hand, 25
And harped them asleep;
Then she sat down at their couch side,
And bitterly did weep.
Said, "Seven bairns have I born now
To my lord in the ha'; 30
I wish they were seven greedy rats,
To run upon the wa',
And I mysel' a great grey cat,
To eat them ane an' a'.
"For ten long years now I have lived 35
Within this cave of stane,
And never was at good church door,
Nor got no good churching."
O then outspak her eldest child,
And a fine boy was he,-- 40
"O hold your tongue, my mother dear;
I'll tell you what to dee.
"Take you the youngest in your lap,
The next youngest by the hand;
Put all the rest of us you before, 45
As you learnt us to gang.
"And go with us into some good kirk,--
You say they are built of stane,--
And let us all be christened,
And you get good kirking." 50
She took the youngest in her lap,
The next youngest by the hand;
Set all the rest of them her before,
As she learnt them to gang.
And she has left the wood with them, 55
And to a kirk has gane;
Where the good priest them christened,
And gave her good kirking.
CLERK COLVILL, OR THE MERMAID.
This ballad exemplifies a superstition deeply rooted in the belief of
all the northern nations,--the desire of the Elves and Water-spirits for
the love of Christians, and the danger of being exposed to their
fascination. The object of their fatal passion is generally a
bridegroom, or a bride, on the eve of marriage. See, in the Appendix,
_Sir Oluf and the Elf-King's Daughter_, for further illustrations; also
the two succeeding pieces.
_Clerk Colvill_ was first printed in Herd's _Scottish Songs_,
(i. 217,) and was inserted, in an altered shape, in Lewis's _Tales of
Wonder_, (No. 56.)
Clerk Colvill and his lusty dame
Were walking in the garden green;
The belt around her stately waist
Cost Clerk Colvill of pounds fifteen.
"O promise me now, Clerk Colvill, 5
Or it will cost ye muckle strife,
Ride never by the wells of Slane,
If ye wad live and brook your life."
"Now speak nae mair, my lusty dame,
Now speak nae mair of that to me: 10
Did I ne'er see a fair woman,
But I wad sin with her fair body?"
He's ta'en leave o' his gay lady,
Nought minding what his lady said,
And he's rode by the wells of Slane, 15
Where washing was a bonny maid.
"Wash on, wash on, my bonny maid,
That wash sae clean your sark of silk;"
"And weel fa' you, fair gentleman,
Your body's whiter than the milk." 20
* * * * *
Then loud, loud cry'd the Clerk Colvill,
"O my head it pains me sair;"
"Then take, then take," the maiden said,
"And frae my sark you'll cut a gare." 25
Then she's gi'ed him a little bane-knife,
And frae her sark[L27] he cut a share;
She's ty'd it round his whey-white face,
But ay his head it aked mair.
Then louder cry'd the Clerk Colvill, 30
"O sairer, sairer akes my head;"
"And sairer, sairer ever will,"
The maiden crys, "till you be dead."
Out then he drew his shining blade,
Thinking to stick her where she stood; 35
But she was vanish'd to a fish,
And swam far off, a fair mermaid.
"O mother, mother, braid my hair;
My lusty lady, make my bed;
O brother, take my sword and spear, 40
For I have seen the false mermaid."
27, his sark.
LADY ISABEL AND THE ELF-KNIGHT.
From Buchan's _Ballads of the North of Scotland_, i. 22, where it
is entitled _The Gowans sae gay_, from the burden.
The hero of the first of the two following ballads would seem to be an
Elf, that of the second a Nix, or Merman, though the punishment
awarded to each of them in the catastrophe, as the ballads now exist,
is not consistent with their supernatural character. It is possible
that in both instances two independent stories have been blended: but
it is curious that the same intermixture should occur in Norse and
German also. See Grundtvig's preface to _Noekkens Svig_, ii. p. 57.
The conclusion in all these cases is derived from a ballad resembling
_May Colvin_, vol. ii. p. 272.
We have had the Elf-Knight introduced under the same circumstances at
page 128; indeed, the first three or four stanzas are common to both
pieces.
Fair lady Isabel sits in her bower sewing,
_Aye as the gowans grow gay_;
There she heard an elf-knight blawing his horn,
_The first morning in May_.
"If I had yon horn that I hear blawing," 5
_Aye as the gowans grow gay_;
"And yon elf-knight to sleep in my bosom,"
_The first morning in May_.
This maiden had scarcely these words spoken,
_Aye as the gowans grow gay_; 10
Till in at her window the elf-knight has luppen,
_The first morning in May_.
"Its a very strange matter, fair maiden," said he,
_Aye as the gowans grow gay_,
"I canna' blaw my horn, but ye call on me," 15
_The first morning in May_.
"But will ye go to yon greenwood side,"
_Aye as the gowans grow gay_?
"If ye canna' gang, I will cause you to ride,"
_The first morning in May_. 20
He leapt on a horse, and she on another,
_Aye as the gowans grow gay_;
And they rode on to the greenwood together,
_The first morning in May_.
"Light down, light down, lady Isabel," said he, 25
_Aye as the gowans grow gay_;
"We are come to the place where ye are to die,"
_The first morning in May_.
"Ha'e mercy, ha'e mercy, kind sir, on me,"
_Aye as the gowans grow gay_; 30
"Till ance my dear father and mother I see,"
_The first morning in May_.
"Seven king's-daughters here hae I slain,"
_Aye as the gowans grow gay_;
"And ye shall be the eight o' them," 35
_The first morning in May_.
"O sit down a while, lay your head on my knee,"
_Aye as the gowans grow gay_;
"That we may hae some rest before that I die,"
_The first morning in May_. 40
She stroak'd him sae fast, the nearer he did creep,
_Aye as the gowans grow gay_;
Wi' a sma' charm she lull'd him fast asleep,
_The first morning in May_.
"Wi' his ain sword belt sae fast as she ban' him, 45
_Aye as the gowans grow gay_;
With his ain dag-durk sae sair as she dang him,
_The first morning in May_.
"If seven kings' daughters here ye ha'e slain,"
_Aye as the gowans grow gay_, 50
"Lye ye here, a husband to them a',"
_The first morning in May_.
THE WATER O' WEARIE'S WELL.
From Buchan's _Ballads of the North of Scotland_, ii. 201. Repeated
in Scottish _Traditional Versions of Ancient Ballads_, Percy Society,
xvii. 63.
The three ballads which follow, diverse as they may now appear, after
undergoing successive corruptions, were primarily of the same type. In
the first (which may be a compound of two ballads, like the preceding,
the conclusion being taken from a story of the character of _May
Colvin_ in the next volume) the Merman or Nix may be easily
recognized: in the second he is metamorphosed into the Devil; and in
the third, into a ghost. Full details upon the corresponding
Scandinavian, German, and Slavic legends, are given by Grundtvig, in
the preface to _Noekkens Svig, Danmarks G. Folkeviser_, ii. 57:
translated by Jamieson, i. 210, and by Monk Lewis, _Tales of Wonder_,
No. 11.
There came a bird out o' a bush,
On water for to dine;
And sighing sair, says the king's daughter,
"O waes this heart o' mine!"
He's taen a harp into his hand, 5
He's harped them all asleep;
Except it was the king's daughter,
Who ae wink cou'dna get.
He's luppen on his berry-brown steed,
Taen her on behind himsell; 10
Then baith rade down to that water,
That they ca' Wearie's well.
"Wide in, wide in, my lady fair,
Nae harm shall thee befall;
Aft times hae I water'd my steed, 15
Wi' the water o' Wearie's well."
The first step that she stepped in,
She stepped to the knee;
And sighing sair, says this lady fair,
"This water's nae for me." 20
"Wide in, wide in, my lady fair,
Nae harm shall thee befall;
Aft times hae I water'd my steed,
Wi' the water o' Wearie's well."
The next step that she stepped in, 25
She stepped to the middle;
And sighing, says, this lady fair,
"I've wat my gowden girdle."
"Wide in, wide in, my lady fair,
Nae harm shall thee befall; 30
Aft times hae I water'd my steed,
Wi' the water o' Wearie's well."
The niest step that she stepped in,
She stepped to the chin;
And sighing, says, this lady fair, 35
"They shou'd gar twa loves twine."
"Seven king's-daughters I've drown'd there,
In the water o' Wearie's well;
And I'll make you the eight o' them,
And ring the common bell." 40
"Sin' I am standing here," she says,
"This dowie death to die;
Ae kiss o' your comely mouth
I'm sure wou'd comfort me."
He louted him ower his saddle bow, 45
To kiss her cheek and chin;
She's taen him in her arms twa,
And thrown him headlang in.
"Sin' seven king's daughters ye've drown'd there,
In the water o' Wearie's well, 50
I'll make you bridegroom to them a',
An' ring the bell mysell."
And aye she warsled, and aye she swam,
Till she swam to dry land;
Then thanked God most cheerfully, 55
The dangers she'd ower came.
THE DAEMON LOVER.
This ballad was communicated to Sir Walter Scott, (_Minstrelsy_, iii.
195,) by Mr. William Laidlaw, who took it down from recitation. A
fragment of the same legend, recovered by Motherwell, is given in the
Appendix to this volume, and another version, in which the hero is not
a daemon, but the ghost of an injured lover, is placed directly after
the present.
The Devil (Auld _Nick_) here takes the place of the Merman (Nix) of
the ancient ballad. See p. 198, and the same natural substitution
noted in _K.u.H._--_Maerchen_, 3d ed. iii. 253.
"O where have you been, my long, long love,
This long seven years and more?"--
"O I'm come to seek my former vows
Ye granted me before."--
"O hold your tongue of your former vows, 5
For they will breed sad strife;
O hold your tongue of your former vows,
For I am become a wife."
He turn'd him right and round about,
And the tear blinded his ee; 10
"I wad never hae trodden on Irish ground,
If it had not been for thee.
"I might hae had a king's daughter,
Far, far beyond the sea;
I might have had a king's daughter, 15
Had it not been for love o' thee."--
"If ye might have had a king's daughter,
Yer sell ye had to blame;
Ye might have taken the king's daughter,
For ye kend that I was nane."-- 20
"O faulse are the vows of womankind,
But fair is their faulse bodie;
I never wad hae trodden on Irish ground,
Had it not been for love o' thee."--
"If I was to leave my husband dear, 25
And my two babes also,
O what have you to take me to,
If with you I should go?"--
"I hae seven ships upon the sea,
The eighth brought me to land; 30
With four-and-twenty bold mariners,
And music on every hand."
She has taken up her two little babes,
Kiss'd them baith cheek and chin;
"O fair ye weel, my ain two babes, 35
For I'll never see you again."
She set her foot upon the ship,
No mariners could she behold;
But the sails were o' the taffetie,
And the masts o' the beaten gold. 40
She had not sail'd a league, a league,
A league but barely three,
When dismal grew his countenance,
And drumlie grew his ee.
The masts that were like the beaten gold, 45
Bent not on the heaving seas;
But the sails, that were o' the taffetie,
Fill'd not in the east land breeze.--
They had not sailed a league, a league,
A league but barely three, 50
Until she espied his cloven foot,
And she wept right bitterlie.
"O hold your tongue of your weeping," says he,
"Of your weeping now let me be;
I will show you how the lilies grow 55
On the banks of Italy."--
"O what hills are yon, yon pleasant hills,
That the sun shines sweetly on?"--
"O yon are the hills of heaven," he said,
"Where you will never win."-- 60
"O whaten a mountain is yon," she said,
"All so dreary wi' frost and snow?"--
"O yon is the mountain of hell," he cried,
"Where you and I will go."
And aye when she turn'd her round about, 65
Aye taller he seem'd for to be;
Until that the tops o' that gallant ship
Nae taller were than he.
The clouds grew dark, and the wind grew loud,
And the levin fill'd her ee; 70
And waesome wail'd the snaw-white sprites
Upon the gurlie sea.
He strack the tap-mast wi' his hand,
The fore-mast wi' his knee;
And he brake that gallant ship in twain, 75
And sank her in the sea.
JAMES HERRIES.
From Buchan's _Ballads of the North of Scotland_, (i. 214.)
(See the preface to the last ballad but one.)
"O are ye my father, or are ye my mother?
Or are ye my brother John?
Or are ye James Herries, my first true love,
Come back to Scotland again?"
"I am not your father, I am not your mother, 5
Nor am I your brother John;
But I'm James Herries, your first true love,
Come back to Scotland again."
"Awa', awa', ye former lovers,
Had far awa' frae me; 10
For now I am another man's wife,
Ye'll ne'er see joy o' me."
"Had I kent that ere I came here,
I ne'er had come to thee;
For I might hae married the king's daughter, 15
Sae fain she wou'd had me.
"I despised the crown o' gold,
The yellow silk also;
And I am come to my true love,
But with me she'll not go." 20
"My husband he is a carpenter,
Makes his bread on dry land,
And I hae born him a young son,--
Wi' you I will not gang."
"You must forsake your dear husband, 25
Your little young son also,
Wi' me to sail the raging seas,
Where the stormy winds do blow."
"O what hae you to keep me wi',
If I should with you go? 30
If I'd forsake my dear husband,
My little young son also?"
"See ye not yon seven pretty ships,
The eighth brought me to land;
With merchandize and mariners, 35
And wealth in every hand?"
She turn'd her round upon the shore,
Her love's ships to behold;
Their topmasts and their mainyards
Were cover'd o'er wi' gold. 40
Then she's gane to her little young son,
And kiss'd him cheek and chin;
Sae has she to her sleeping husband,
And dune the same to him.
"O sleep ye, wake ye, my husband, 45
I wish ye wake in time;
I woudna for ten thousand pounds,
This night ye knew my mind."
She's drawn the slippers on her feet,
Were cover'd o'er wi' gold; 50
Well lined within wi' velvet fine,
To had her frae the cold.
She hadna sailed upon the sea
A league but barely three,
Till she minded on her dear husband, 55
Her little young son tee.
"O gin I were at land again,
At land where I wou'd be,
The woman ne'er shou'd bear the son,
Shou'd gar me sail the sea." 60
"O hold your tongue, my sprightly flower,
Let a' your mourning be;
I'll show you how the lilies grow
On the banks o' Italy."
She hadna sailed on the sea 65
A day but barely ane,
Till the thoughts o' grief came in her mind,
And she lang'd for to be hame.
"O gentle death, come cut my breath,
I may be dead ere morn; 70
I may be buried in Scottish ground,
Where I was bred and born."
"O hold your tongue, my lily leesome thing,
Let a' your mourning be;
But for a while we'll stay at Rose Isle, 75
Then see a far countrie.
"Ye'se ne'er be buried in Scottish ground,
Nor land ye's nae mair see;
I brought you away to punish you,
For the breaking your vows to me. 80
"I said ye shou'd see the lilies grow
On the banks o' Italy;
But I'll let you see the fishes swim,
In the bottom o' the sea."
He reached his band to the topmast, 85
Made a' the sails gae down;
And in the twinkling o' an e'e,
Baith ship and crew did drown.
The fatal flight o' this wretched maid
Did reach her ain countrie; 90
Her husband then distracted ran,
And this lament made he:--
"O wae be to the ship, the ship,
And wae be to the sea,
And wae be to the mariners, 95
Took Jeanie Douglas frae me!
"O bonny, bonny was my love,
A pleasure to behold;
The very hair o' my love's head
Was like the threads o' gold. 100
"O bonny was her cheek, her cheek,
And bonny was her chin;
And bonny was the bride she was,
The day she was made mine!"
* * * * *
*** The following stanzas from a version of this ballad printed at
Philadelphia (and called _The House Carpenter_) are given in Graham's
_Illustrated Magazine_, Sept. 1858.
"I might have married the king's daughter dear;"
"You might have married her," cried she,
"For I am married to a House Carpenter,
And a fine young man is he."
"Oh dry up your tears, my own true love,
And cease your weeping," cried he;
"For soon you'll see your own happy home,
On the banks of old Tennessee."
THE KNIGHT'S GHOST.
From _Buchan's ballads of the North of Scotland_, (i. 227.)
"There is a fashion in this land,
And even come to this country,
That every lady should meet her lord,
When he is newly come frae sea:
"Some wi' hawks, and some wi' hounds, 5
And other some wi' gay monie;
But I will gae myself alone,
And set his young son on his knee."
She's ta'en her young son in her arms,
And nimbly walk'd by yon sea strand; 10
And there she spy'd her father's ship,
As she was sailing to dry land.
"Where hae ye put my ain gude lord,
This day he stays sae far frae me?"
"If ye be wanting your ain gude lord, 15
A sight o' him ye'll never see."
"Was he brunt, or was he shot?
Or was he drowned in the sea?
Or what's become o' my ain gude lord,
That he will ne'er appear to me?" 20
"He wasna brunt, nor was he shot,
Nor was he drowned in the sea;
He was slain in Dumfermling,
A fatal day to you and me."
"Come in, come in, my merry young men, 25
Come in and drink the wine wi' me;
And a' the better ye shall fare,
For this gude news ye tell to me."
She's brought them down to yon cellar,
She brought them fifty steps and three; 30
She birled wi' them the beer and wine,
Till they were as drunk as drunk could be.
Then she has lock'd her cellar door,
For there were fifty steps and three;
"Lie there wi' my sad malison, 35
For this bad news ye've tauld to me."
She's ta'en the keys intill her hand,
And threw them deep, deep in the sea;
"Lie there wi' my sad malison,
Till my gude lord return to me." 40
Then she sat down in her own room,
And sorrow lull'd her fast asleep;
And up it starts her own gude lord,
And even at that lady's feet.
"Take here the keys, Janet," he says, 45
"That ye threw deep, deep in the sea;
And ye'll relieve my merry young men,
For they've nane o' the swick o' me.
"They shot the shot, and drew the stroke,
And wad in red bluid to the knee; 50
Nae sailors mair for their lord coud do,
Nor my young men they did for me."
"I hae a question at you to ask,
Before that ye depart frae me;
You'll tell to me what day I'll die, 55
And what day will my burial be?"
"I hae nae mair o' God's power
Than he has granted unto me;
But come to heaven when ye will,
There porter to you I will be. 60
"But ye'll be wed to a finer knight
Than ever was in my degree;
Unto him ye'll hae children nine,
And six o' them will be ladies free.
"The other three will be bold young men, 65
To fight for king and countrie;
The ane a duke, the second a knight,
And third a laird o' lands sae free."
THE WIFE OF USHER'S WELL.
_Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_, iii. 258.
That the repose of the dead is disturbed by the immoderate grief of
those they have left behind them, is a belief which finds frequent
expression in popular ballads. Obstinate sorrow rouses them from their
grateful slumber; every tear that is shed for them wets their shroud;
they can get no rest, and are compelled to revisit the world they
would fain forget, to rebuke and forbid the mourning that destroys
their peace.
"Ice-cold and bloody, a lead-weight of sorrow, falls on my
breast each tear that you shed,"
says the ghost of Helgi in the _Edda_ to his lamenting wife (_Helgak.
Hundingsb._ II.) The same idea is found in the German ballad, _Der
Vorwirth_, Erk's _Liederhort_, No. 46, 46 a, and in various tales, as
_Das Todtenhemdchen_, (_K.u.H. Maerchen_, No. 109, and note), etc. In
like manner Sir Aage, in a well-known Danish ballad (Grundtvig, No.
90), and the corresponding _Sorgens Magt, Svenska F.V._, No. 6.
"Every time thou weepest for me,
Thy heart makest sad,
Then all within, my coffin stands full
Of clotted blood."
Rarely is the silence of the grave broken for purposes of consolation.
Yet some cases there are, as in a Lithuanian ballad cited by
Wackernagel, _Altd. Blaetter_, i. 176, and a Spanish ballad noticed by
Talvj, _Versuch_, p. 141. The present ballad seems to belong to the
latter class rather than the former, but it is so imperfect that its
true character cannot be determined.
Chambers maintains, we think erroneously, that this ballad is a
fragment of _The Clerk's Twa Sons o' Owsenford_. See the second volume
of this collection, page 63.
There lived a wife at Usher's Well,
And a wealthy wife was she,
She had three stout and stalwart sons,
And sent them o'er the sea.
They hadna been a week from her, 5
A week but barely ane,
When word came to the carline wife,
That her three sons were gane.
They hadna been a week from her,
A week but barely three, 10
When word came to the carline wife,
That her sons she'd never see.
"I wish the wind may never cease,
Nor fishes[L14] in the flood,
Till my three sons come hame to me, 15
In earthly flesh and blood."--
It fell about the Martinmas,
When nights are lang and mirk,
The carline wife's three sons came hame,
And their hats were o' the birk. 20
It neither grew in syke nor ditch,
Nor yet in ony sheugh;
But at the gates o' Paradise,
That birk grew fair eneugh.
* * * * *
"Blow up the fire, my maidens! 25
Bring water from the well!
For a' my house shall feast this night,
Since my three sons are well."--
And she has made to them a bed,
She's made it large and wide; 30
And she's ta'en her mantle her about,
Sat down at the bed-side.
* * * * *
Up then crew the red red cock, 35
And up and crew the gray;
The eldest to the youngest said,
"'Tis time we were away."--
The cock he hadna craw'd but once,
And clapp'd his wings at a', 40
Whan the youngest to the eldest said,
"Brother, we must awa.--
"The cock doth craw, the day doth daw,
The channerin' worm doth chide;
Gin we be mist out o' our place, 45
A sair pain we maun bide.
"Fare ye weel, my mother dear!
Fareweel to barn and byre!
And fare ye weel, the bonny lass,
That kindles my mother's fire." 50
14. Should we not read, for _fishes_ here, _fashes_-- i. e.
troubles?--LOCKHART.
THE SUFFOLK MIRACLE:
_Or, a relation of a young man, who, a month after his death, appeared
to his sweetheart, and carried her on horseback behind him for forty
miles in two hours, and was never seen after but in his grave._
From _A Collection of Old Ballads_, i. 266. In Moore's _Pictorial Book
of Ancient Ballad Poetry_ (p. 463) is a copy from a broadside in the
Roxburghe collection.
_The Suffolk Miracle_ has an external resemblance to several noble
ballads, but the likeness does not extend below the surface. It is
possible that we have here the residuum of an old poem, from which all
the beauty and spirit have been exhaled in the course of tradition;
but as the ballad now exists, it is a vulgar ghost-story, without any
motive. Regarding the external form alone, we may place by its side
the Breton ballad, _Le Frere de Lait_, in Villemarque's _Chants
Populaires de la Bretagne_, vol. i. No. 22 (translated by Miss
Costello, _Quart. Review_, vol. 68, p. 75), the Romaic ballad of
_Constantine and Arete_, in Fauriel's _Chants Populaires de la Grece
Moderne_, p. 406 (see Appendix), and the Servian ballad (related to
the Romaic, and perhaps derived from it), _Jelitza and her Brothers_,
Talvj, _Volkslieder der Serben_, i. 160, all of them among the most
beautiful specimens in this kind of literature; and also Buerger's
_Lenore_. It has been once or twice most absurdly suggested that
_Lenore_ owed its existence to this _Suffolk Miracle_. The difference,
indeed, is not greater than between a "Chronicle History" and
_Macbeth_; it is however certain that Buerger's ballad is all his own,
except the hint of the ghostly horseman and one or two phrases, which
he took from the description of a Low German ballad. The editors of
the _Wunderhorn_ claim to give this ballad, vol. ii. p. 19. An
equivalent prose tradition is well known in Germany. Most of the
ballads relating to the return of departed spirits are brought
together in an excellent article by Wackernagel in the _Altdeutsche
Blaetter_, i. 174.
A wonder stranger ne'er was known
Than what I now shall treat upon.
In Suffolk there did lately dwell
A farmer rich and known full well.
He had a daughter fair and bright, 5
On whom he placed his chief delight;
Her beauty was beyond compare,
She was both virtuous and fair.
There was a young man living by,
Who was so charmed with her eye, 10
That he could never be at rest;
He was by love so much possest.
He made address to her, and she
Did grant him love immediately;
But when her father came to hear, 15
He parted her and her poor dear.
Forty miles distant was she sent,
Unto his brother's, with intent
That she should there so long remain,
Till she had changed her mind again. 20
Hereat this young man sadly grieved,
But knew not how to be relieved;
He sighed and sobbed continually
That his true love he could not see.
She by no means could to him send, 25
Who was her heart's espoused friend;
He sighed, he grieved, but all in vain,
For she confined must still remain.
He mourned so much, that doctor's art
Could give no ease unto his heart, 30
Who was so strangely terrified,
That in short time for love he died.
She that from him was sent away
Knew nothing of his dying day,
But constant still she did remain, 35
And loved the dead, although in vain.
After he had in grave been laid
A month or more, unto this maid
He came in middle of the night,
Who joyed to see her heart's delight. 40
Her father's horse, which well she knew,
Her mother's hood and safe-guard too,
He brought with him to testify
Her parents order he came by.
Which when her uncle understood, 45
He hoped it would be for her good,
And gave consent to her straightway,
That with him she should come away.
When she was got her love behind,
They passed as swift as any wind, 50
That in two hours, or little more,
He brought her to her father's door.
But as they did this great haste make,
He did complain his head did ake;
Her handkerchief she then took out, 55
And tied the same his head about.
And unto him she thus did say:
"Thou art as cold as any clay;
When we come home a fire we'll have;"
But little dreamed he went to grave. 60
Soon were they at her father's door,
And after she ne'er saw him more;
"I'll set the horse up," then he said,
And there he left this harmless maid.
She knocked, and straight a man he cried, 65
"Who's there?" "'Tis I," she then replied;
Who wondred much her voice to hear,
And was possessed with dread and fear.
Her father he did tell, and then
He stared like an affrighted man: 70
Down stairs he ran, and when he see her,
Cried out, "My child, how cam'st thou here?"
"Pray, sir, did you not send for me,
By such a messenger?" said she:
Which made his hair stare on his head, 75
As knowing well that he was dead.
"Where is he?" then to her he said;
"He's in the stable," quoth the maid.
"Go in," said he, "and go to bed;
I'll see the horse well littered." 80
He stared about, and there could he
No shape of any mankind see,
But found his horse all on a sweat;
Which made him in a deadly fret.
His daughter he said nothing to, 85
Nor none else, (though full well they knew
That he was dead a month before,)
For fear of grieving her full sore.
Her father to the father went
Of the deceased, with full intent 90
To tell him what his daughter said;
So both came back unto this maid.
They ask'd her, and she still did say
'Twas he that then brought her away;
Which when they heard they were amazed, 95
And on each other strangely gazed.
A handkerchief she said she tied
About his head, and that they tried;
The sexton they did speak unto,
That he the grave would then undo. 100
Affrighted then they did behold
His body turning into mould,
And though he had a month been dead,
This handkerchief was about his head.
This thing unto her then they told, 105
And the whole truth they did unfold;
She was thereat so terrified
And grieved, that she quickly died.
Part not true love, you rich men, then;
But, if they be right honest men 110
Your daughters love, give them their way,
For force oft breeds their lives decay.
SIR ROLAND.
From Motherwell's _Minstrelsy_, p. 124.
This fragment, Motherwell tells us, was communicated to him by an
ingenious friend, who remembered having heard it sung in his youth. He
does not vouch for its antiquity, and we have little or no hesitation
in pronouncing it a modern composition.
Whan he cam to his ain luve's bouir,
He tirled at the pin,
And sae ready was his fair fause luve
To rise and let him in.
"O welcome, welcome, Sir Roland," she says, 5
"Thrice welcome thou art to me;
For this night thou wilt feast in my secret bouir,
And to-morrow we'll wedded be."
"This night is hallow-eve," he said,
"And to-morrow is hallow-day; 10
And I dreamed a drearie dream yestreen,
That has made my heart fu' wae.
"I dreamed a drearie dream yestreen,
And I wish it may cum to gude:
I dreamed that ye slew my best grew hound, 15
And gied me his lappered blude."
* * * * *
"Unbuckle your belt, Sir Roland," she said,
"And set you safely down."
"O your chamber is very dark, fair maid,
And the night is wondrous lown." 20
"Yes, dark, dark is my secret bowir,
And lown the midnight may be;
For there is none waking in a' this tower,
But thou, my true love, and me."
* * * * *
She has mounted on her true love's steed, 25
By the ae light o' the moon;
She has whipped him and spurred him,
And roundly she rade frae the toun.
She hadna ridden a mile o' gate,
Never a mile but ane, 30
Whan she was aware of a tall young man,
Slow riding o'er the plain.
She turned her to the right about,
Then to the left turn'd she;
But aye, 'tween her and the wan moonlight, 35
That tall knight did she see.
And he was riding burd alane,
On a horse as black as jet;
But tho' she followed him fast and fell,
No nearer could she get. 40
"O stop! O stop! young man," she said,
"For I in dule am dight;
O stop, and win a fair lady's luve,
If you be a leal true knight."
But nothing did the tall knight say, 45
And nothing did he blin;
Still slowly rode he on before,
And fast she rade behind.
She whipped her steed, she spurred her steed,
Till his breast was all a foam; 50
But nearer unto that tall young knight,
By Our Ladye, she could not come.
"O if you be a gay young knight,
As well I trow you be,
Pull tight your bridle reins, and stay 55
Till I come up to thee."
But nothing did that tall knight say,
And no whit did he blin,
Until he reached a broad river's side,
And there he drew his rein. 60