Sergheievitch Matveief, a distinguished personage, minister and friend
of the father of Peter the Great, married a Hamilton, of a Scottish
family settled at Moscow, after which the Hamilton family ranked with
the aristocracy. The name of Mary’s father, whether William or Daniel,
is uncertain, but it is considered safe to say that she was niece to
Andrei Artemonovitch Matveief, son of the Tsar Alexei’s friend. Mary
Hamilton was created maid-of-honor to the Empress Catharine chiefly on
account of her beauty. Many of Catharine’s attendants were foreigners;
not all were of conspicuous families, but Peter required that they
should all be remarkably handsome. Mary had enjoyed the special favor of
the Tsar, but incurred his anger by setting afloat a report that
Catharine had a habit of eating wax, which produced pimples on her face.
The empress spoke to her about this slander; Mary denied that she was
the author of it; Catharine boxed her ears, and she acknowledged the
offence. Mary Hamilton had been having an amour with Ivan Orlof, a
handsome aide-de-camp of Tsar Peter, and while she was under the
displeasure of her master and mistress, the body of a child was found in
a well, wrapped in a court-napkin. Orlof, being sent for by Peter on
account of a missing paper, thought that his connection with Mary had
been discovered, and in his confusion let words escape him which Peter
put to use in tracing the origin of the child. The guilt was laid at
Mary’s door; she at first denied the accusation, but afterwards made a
confession, exonerating Orlof, however, from all participation in the
death of the babe; and indeed it was proved that he had not even known
of its birth till the information came to him in the way of
court-gossip. Both were sent to the Petropaulovsk fortress, Orlof on
April 4, Mary on April 10, 1718. Orlof was afterwards discharged without
punishment. Mary, after being twice subjected to torture, under which
she confessed to having previously destroyed two children,[250] was
condemned to death November 27, 1718, and executed on March 14, 1719,
the Tsar attending. She had attired herself in white silk, with black
ribbons, hoping thereby to touch Peter’s heart. She fell on her knees
and implored a pardon. But a law against the murder of illegitimate
children had recently been promulgated afresh and in terms of extreme
severity. Peter turned aside and whispered something to the executioner;
those present thought he meant to show grace, but it was an order to the
headsman to do his office. The Tsar picked up Mary’s head and kissed it,
made a little discourse on the anatomy of it to the spectators, kissed
it again, and threw it down. That beautiful head is said to have been
kept in spirits for some sixty years at the Academy of Sciences in St
Petersburg.
It will be observed that this adventure at the Russian court presents
every material feature in the Scottish ballad, and even some subordinate
ones which may or may not have been derived from report, may or may not
have been the fancy-work of singers or reciters. We have the very name,
Mary Hamilton; she is a maid-of-honor; she has, as some versions run, an
intrigue with the king, and has a child, which she destroys; she rolls
the child in a napkin and throws it into a well (rolls the child in her
handkerchief, apron, and throws it in the sea); she is charged with the
fact and denies; according to some versions, search is made and
overwhelming proof discovered;[251] she is tried and condemned to die;
she finds no grace. The appeal to sailors and travellers in the ballad
shows that Mary Hamilton dies in a foreign land—not that of her
ancestors. The king’s coming by in #B# 22 (cf. #D# 22, 23) may possibly
be a reminiscence of the Tsar’s presence at the execution, and Mary’s
dressing herself in white, etc., to shine through Edinburgh town a
transformation of Mary’s dressing herself in white to move the Tsar’s
pity at the last moment; but neither of these points need be insisted
on.
There is no trace of an admixture of the Russian story with that of the
French woman and the queen’s apothecary, and no ballad about the French
woman is known to have existed.
We first hear of the Scottish ballad in 1790, when a stanza is quoted in
a letter of Robert Burns (see #R#). So far as I know, but one date can
be deduced from the subject-matter of the ballad; the Netherbow Port is
standing in #G#, #I#, #M#, and this gate was demolished in 1764. The
ballad must therefore have arisen between 1719 and 1764. It is
remarkable that one of the very latest of the Scottish popular ballads
should be one of the very best.
#I a# is translated by Gerhard, p. 149; Aytoun’s ballad by Knortz,
Schottische Balladen, p. 76, No 24.
A
#a.# Sharpe’s Ballad Book, 1824, p. 18. #b.# Communicated by the
late John Francis Campbell, as learned from his father about 1840.
#c.# Aungervyle Society’s publications, No V, p. 5 (First Series, p.
85); “taken down early in the present century from the lips of an
old lady in Annandale.”
1
Word’s gane to the kitchen,
And word’s gane to the ha,
That Marie Hamilton gangs wi bairn
To the hichest Stewart of a’.
2
He’s courted her in the kitchen,
He’s courted her in the ha,
He’s courted her in the laigh cellar,
And that was warst of a’.
3
She’s tyed it in her apron
And she’s thrown it in the sea;
Says, Sink ye, swim ye, bonny wee babe!
You’l neer get mair o me.
4
Down then cam the auld queen,
Goud tassels tying her hair:
‘O Marie, where’s the bonny wee babe
That I heard greet sae sair?’
5
‘There never was a babe intill my room,
As little designs to be;
It was but a touch o my sair side,
Come oer my fair bodie.’
6
‘O Marie, put on your robes o black,
Or else your robes o brown,
For ye maun gang wi me the night,
To see fair Edinbro town.’
7
‘I winna put on my robes o black,
Nor yet my robes o brown;
But I’ll put on my robes o white,
To shine through Edinbro town.’
8
When she gaed up the Cannogate,
She laughd loud laughters three;
But whan she cam down the Cannogate
The tear blinded her ee.
9
When she gaed up the Parliament stair,
The heel cam aff her shee;
And lang or she cam down again
She was condemnd to dee.
10
When she cam down the Cannogate,
The Cannogate sae free,
Many a ladie lookd oer her window,
Weeping for this ladie.
11
‘Ye need nae weep for me,’ she says,
‘Ye need nae weep for me;
For had I not slain mine own sweet babe,
This death I wadna dee.
12
‘Bring me a bottle of wine,’ she says,
‘The best that eer ye hae,
That I may drink to my weil-wishers,
And they may drink to me.
13
‘Here’s a health to the jolly sailors,
That sail upon the main;
Let them never let on to my father and mother
But what I’m coming hame.
14
‘Here’s a health to the jolly sailors,
That sail upon the sea;
Let them never let on to my father and mother
That I cam here to dee.
15
‘Oh little did my mother think,
The day she cradled me,
What lands I was to travel through,
What death I was to dee.
16
‘Oh little did my father think,
The day he held up me,
What lands I was to travel through,
What death I was to dee.
17
‘Last night I washd the queen’s feet,
And gently laid her down;
And a’the thanks I’ve gotten the nicht
To be hangd in Edinbro town!
18
‘Last nicht there was four Maries,
The nicht there’l be but three;
There was Marie Seton, and Marie Beton,
And Marie Carmichael, and me.’
B
Motherwell’s MS., p. 337.
1
There were ladies, they lived in a bower,
And oh but they were fair!
The youngest o them is to the king’s court,
To learn some unco lair.
2
She hadna been in the king’s court
A twelve month and a day,
Till of her they could get na wark,
For wantonness and play.
3
Word is to the kitchen gane,
And word is to the ha,
And word is up to Madame the Queen,
And that is warst of a’,
That Mary Hamilton has born a bairn,
To the hichest Stewart of a’.
4
‘O rise, O rise, Mary Hamilton,
O rise, and tell to me
What thou did with thy sweet babe
We sair heard weep by thee.’
5
‘Hold your tongue, madame,’ she said,
‘And let your folly be;
It was a shouir o sad sickness
Made me weep sae bitterlie.’
6
‘O rise, O rise, Mary Hamilton,
O rise, and tell to me
What thou did with thy sweet babe
We sair heard weep by thee.’
7
‘I put it in a piner-pig,
And set it on the sea;
I bade it sink, or it might swim,
It should neer come hame to me.’
8
‘O rise, O rise, Mary Hamilton,
Arise, and go with me;
There is a wedding in Glasgow town
This day we’ll go and see.’
9
She put not on her black clothing,
She put not on her brown,
But she put on the glistering gold,
To shine thro Edinburgh town.
10
As they came into Edinburgh town,
The city for to see,
The bailie’s wife and the provost’s wife
Said, Och an alace for thee!
11
‘Gie never alace for me,’ she said,
‘Gie never alace for me;
It’s all for the sake of my poor babe,
This death that I maun die.’
12
As they gaed up the Tolbuith stair,
The stair it was sae hie,
The bailie’s son and the provost’s son
Said, Och an alace for thee!
13
‘Gie never alace for me,’ she said,
‘Gie never alace for me!
It’s all for the sake of my puir babe,
This death that I maun die.
14
‘But bring to me a cup,’ she says,
‘A cup bot and a can,
And I will drink to all my friends,
And they ll drink to me again.
15
‘Here’s to you all, travellers,
Who travels by land or sea;
Let na wit to my father nor mother
The death that I must die.
16
‘Here’s to you all, travellers,
That travels on dry land;
Let na wit to my father nor mother
But I am coming hame.
17
‘Little did my mother think,
First time she cradled me,
What land I was to travel on,
Or what death I would die.
18
‘Little did my mother think,
First time she tied my head,
What land I was to tread upon,
Or whare I would win my bread.
19
‘Yestreen Queen Mary had four Maries,
This night she’ll hae but three;
She had Mary Seaton, and Mary Beaton,
And Mary Carmichael, and me.
20
‘Yestreen I wush Queen Mary’s feet,
And bore her till her bed;
This day she’s given me my reward,
This gallows-tree to tread.
21
‘Cast off, cast off my goun,’ she said.
‘But let my petticoat be,
And tye a napkin on my face,
For that gallows I downa see.’
22
By and cum the king himsell,
Lookd up with a pitiful ee:
‘Come down, come down, Mary Hamilton,
This day thou wilt dine with me.’
23
‘Hold your tongue, my sovereign leige,
And let your folly be;
An ye had a mind to save my life,
Ye should na shamed me here.’
C
Motherwell’s MS. p. 265; from Mrs Crum, Dumbarton, 7 April, 1825.
1
There lived a lord into the west,
And he had dochters three,
And the youngest o them is to the king’s court,
To learn some courtesie.
2
She was not in the king’s court
A twelvemonth and a day,
Till she was neither able to sit nor gang,
Wi the gaining o some play.
3
She went to the garden,
To pull the leaf aff the tree,
To tak this bonnie babe frae her breast,
But alas it would na do!
4
She rowed it in her handkerchief,
And threw it in the sea:
‘O sink ye, swim ye, wee wee babe!
Ye’ll get nae mair o me.’
5
Word is to the kitchen gane,
And word is to the ha,
That Mary Myle she goes wi child
To the highest Steward of a’.
6
Down and came the queen hersell,
The queen hersell so free:
‘O Mary Myle, whare is the child
That I heard weep for thee?’
7
‘O hold your tongue now, Queen,’ she says,
‘O hold your tongue so free!
For it was but a shower o the sharp sickness,
I was almost like to die.’
8
‘O busk ye, busk ye, Mary Myle,
O busk, and go wi me;
O busk ye, busk ye, Mary Mile,
It’s Edinburgh town to see.’
9
‘I’ll no put on my robes o black,
No nor yet my robes [o] brown;
But I’ll put on my golden weed,
To shine thro Edinburgh town.’
10
When she went up the Cannongate-side,
The Cannongate-side so free,
Oh there she spied some ministers’ lads,
Crying Och and alace for me!
11
‘Dinna cry och and alace for me!
Dinna cry o[c]h and alace for me!
For it’s all for the sake of my innocent babe
That I come here to die.’
12
When she went up the Tolbooth-stair,
The lap cam aff her shoe;
Before that she came down again,
She was condemned to die.
13
‘O all you gallant sailors,
That sail upon the sea,
Let neither my father nor mother know
The death I am to die!
14
‘O all you gallant sailors,
That sail upon the faem,
Let neither my father nor mother know
But I am coming hame!
15
‘Little did my mother know,
The hour that she bore me,
What lands I was to travel in,
What death I was to die.
16
‘Little did my father know,
When he held up my head,
What lands I was to travel in,
What was to be my deid.
17
‘Yestreen I made Queen Mary’s bed,
Kembed doun her yellow hair;
Is this the reward I am to get,
To tread this gallows-stair!’
D
Motherwell’s MS., p. 267; from the recitation of Miss Nancy Hamilton
and Mrs Gentles, January, 1825.
1
There lives a knight into the north,
And he had daughters three;
The ane of them was a barber’s wife,
The other a gay ladie.
2
And the youngest of them is to Scotland gane,
The queen’s Mary to be,
And a’that they could say or do,
Forbidden she woudna be.
3
The prince’s bed it was sae saft,
The spices they were sae fine,
That out of it she couldna lye
While she was scarse fifteen.
4
She’s gane to the garden gay
To pu of the savin tree;
But for a’that she could say or do,
The babie it would not die.
5
She’s rowed it in her handkerchief,
She threw it in the sea;
Says, Sink ye, swim ye, my bonnie babe!
For ye’ll get nae mair of me.
6
Queen Mary came tripping down the stair,
Wi the gold strings in her hair:
‘O whare’s the little babie,’ she says,
‘That I heard greet sae sair? ’
7
‘O hold your tongue, Queen Mary, my dame,
Let all those words go free!
It was mysell wi a fit o the sair colic,
I was sick just like to die.’
8
‘O hold your tongue, Mary Hamilton,
Let all those words go free!
O where is the little babie
That I heard weep by thee?’
9
‘I rowed it in my handkerchief,
And threw it in the sea;
I bade it sink, I bade it swim,
It would get nae mair o me.’
10
‘O wae be to thee, Marie Hamilton,
And an ill deid may you die!
For if ye had saved the babie’s life
It might hae been an honour to thee.
11
‘Busk ye, busk ye, Marie Hamilton,
O busk ye to be a bride!
For I am going to Edinburgh toun,
Your gay wedding to bide.
12
‘You must not put on your robes of black,
Nor yet your robes of brown;
But you must put on your yellow gold stuffs,
To shine thro Edinburgh town.’
13
‘I will not put on my robes of black,
Nor yet my robes of brown;
But I will put on my yellow gold stuffs,
To shine thro Edinburgh town.’
14
As she went up the Parliament Close,
A riding on her horse,
There she saw many a cobler’s lady,
Sat greeting at the cross.
15
‘O what means a’ this greeting?
I’m sure its nae for me;
For I’m come this day to Edinburgh town
Weel wedded for to be.’
16
When she gade up the Parliament stair,
She gied loud lauchters three;
But ere that she came down again,
She was condemned to die.
17
‘O little did my mother think,
The day that she prinned my gown,
That I was to come sae far frae hame
To be hangid in Edinburgh town.
18
‘O what’ll my poor father think,
As he comes thro the town,
To see the face of his Molly fair
Hanging on the gallows-pin!
19
‘Here’s a health to the marineres,
That plough the raging main!
Let neither my mother nor father know
But I’m coming hame again!
20
‘Here’s a health to the sailors,
That sail upon the sea!
Let neither my mother nor father ken
That I came here to die!
21
‘Yestreen the queen had four Maries,
This night she’ll hae but three;
There was Mary Beaton, and Mary Seaton,
And Mary Carmichael, and me.’
22
‘O hald your tongue, Mary Hamilton,
Let all those words go free!
This night eer ye be hanged
Ye shall gang hame wi me.’
23
‘O hald your tongue, Queen Mary, my dame,
Let all those words go free!
For since I have come to Edinburgh toun,
It’s hanged I shall be,
And it shall neer be said that in your court
I was condemned to die.’
E
Buchan’s MSS, II, 186.
1
‘My father was the Duke of York,
My mother a lady free,
Mysell a dainty damsell,
Queen Mary sent for me.
2
‘Yestreen I washd Queen Mary’s feet,
Kam’d down her yellow hair,
And lay a’night in the young man’s bed,
And I’ll rue t for evermair.
3
The queen’s kale was aye sae het,
Her spice was aye sae fell,
Till they gart me gang to the young man’s bed,
And I’d a’the wyte mysell.
4
‘I was not in the queen’s service
A twelvemonth but barely ane,
Ere I grew as big wi bairn
As ae woman could gang.
5
‘But it fell ance upon a day,
Was aye to be it lane,
I did take strong travilling
As ever yet was seen.’
6
Ben it came the queen hersell,
Was a’ gowd to the hair;
‘O where’s the bairn, Lady Maisry,
That I heard greeting sair?’
7
Ben it came the queen hersell,
Was a’ gowd to the chin:
‘O where’s the bairn, Lady Maisry,
That I heard late yestreen.’
8
‘There is no bairn here,’ she says,
‘Nor never thinks to be;
’Twas but a stoun o sair sickness
That ye heard seizing me.’
9
They sought it out, they sought it in,
They sought it but and ben,
But between the bolster and the bed
They got the baby slain.
10
‘Come busk ye, busk ye, Lady Maisdry,
Come busk, an go with me;
For I will on to Edinburgh,
And try the verity.’
11
She woud not put on the black, the black,
Nor yet wad she the brown,
But the white silk and the red scarlet,
That shin’d frae town to town.
12
As she gaed down thro Edinburgh town
The burghers’ wives made meen,
That sic a dainty damsel
Sud ever hae died for sin.
13
‘Make never meen for me,’ she says,
‘Make never meen for me;
Seek never grace frae a graceless face,
For that ye’ll never see.’
14
As she gaed up the Tolbooth stair,
A light laugh she did gie;
But lang ere she came down again
She was condemned to die.
15
‘A’ you that are in merchants-ships,
And cross the roaring faem,
Hae nae word to my father and mother,
But that I’m coming hame.
16
‘Hold your hands, ye justice o peace,
Hold them a little while!
For yonder comes my father and mother,
That’s travelld mony a mile.
17
‘Gie me some o your gowd, parents,
Some o your white monie,
To save me frae the head o yon hill,
Yon greenwood gallows-tree.’
18
‘Ye’ll get nane o our gowd, daughter,
Nor nane o our white monie;
For we hae travelld mony a mile,
This day to see you die.’
19
‘Hold your hands, ye justice o peace,
Hold them a little while!
For yonder comes him Warenston,
The father of my chile.
20
‘Give me some o your gowd, Warenston,
Some o your white monie,
To save me frae the head o yon hill,
Yon greenwood gallows-tree.’
21
‘I bade you nurse my bairn well,
And nurse it carefullie,
And gowd shoud been your hire, Maisry,
And my body your fee.’
22
He’s taen out a purse o gowd,
Another o white monie,
And he’s tauld down ten thousand crowns,
Says, True love, gang wi me.
F
Skene MS., p. 61.
1
My father was the Duke of York,
My mother a lady free,
Mysel a dainty demosell,
Queen Mary sent for me.
2
The queen’s meat, it was sae sweet,
Her clothing was sae rare,
It made me lang for Sweet Willie’s bed,
An I’ll rue it ever maer.
3
Mary Beaton, and Mary Seaton,
And Lady Livinston, three,
We’ll never meet in Queen Mary’s bower,
Now Maries tho ye be.
4
Queen Mary sat in her bower,
Sewing her silver seam;
She thought she heard a baby greet,
But an a lady meen.
5
She threw her needle frae her,
Her seam out of her hand,
An she is on to Lady Mary’s bower,
As fast as she could gang.
6
‘Open yer door, Lady Mary,’ she says,
‘And lat me come in;
For I hear a baby greet,
But an a lady meen.’
7
‘There is na bab in my bower, madam,
Nor never thinks to be,
But the strong pains of gravel
This night has seized me.’
8
She pat her fit to the door,
But an her knee,
Baith of brass and iron bands
In flinders she gard flee.
9
She pat a hand to her bed-head,
An ither to her bed-feet,
An bonny was the bab
Was blabbering in its bleed.
10
‘Wae worth ye, Lady Mary,
An ill dead sall ye die!
For an ye widna kept the bonny bab,
Ye might ha sen’t to me.’
11
‘Lay na the wate on me, madam,
Lay na the wate on me!
For my fas love bare the brand at his side
That gared my barrine die.’
12
‘Get up, Lady Beaton, get up, Lady Seton,
And Lady Livinstone three,
An we will on to Edinburgh,
An try this gay lady.’
13
As she came to the Cannongate,
The burgers’ wives they cryed
Hon ohon, ochree! . . .
. . . . . . .
14
‘O had you still, ye burgers’ wives,
An make na meen for me;
Seek never grace of a graceless face,
For they hae nane to gie.
15
‘Ye merchants and ye mariners,
That trade upon the sea,
O dinna tell in my country
The dead I’m gaen to die!
16
‘Ye merchants and ye mariners,
That sail upo the faeme,
O dinna tell in my country
But that I’m comin hame!
17
‘Little did my father think,
Whan he brought me our the sea,
That he wad see me yellow locks
Hang on a gallow’s tree.
18
‘Little did my mither think
Whan she brought me fra hame,
That she maught see my yellow loks
Han[g] on a gallow-pin.
19
‘O had your hand a while!
. . . . . . .
For yonder comes my father,
I’m sure he’l borrow me.
20
‘O some of your goud, father,
An of your well won fee,
To save me [frae the high hill]
[And] frae the gallow-tree!’
21
‘Ye’s get nane of my goud,
Nor of my well won fee,
For I would gie five hundred pown
To see ye hangit hie.’
22
‘O had yer hand a while!
. . . . . . .
Yonder is my love Willie,
Sure he will borrow me.
23
‘O some o your goud, my love Willie,
An some o yer well won fee,
To save me frae the high hill,
And fra the gallow-tree!’
24
‘Ye’s get a’ my goud,
And a’ my well won fee,
To save ye fra the headin-hill,
And frae the gallow-tree.’
G
Manuscript of Scottish Songs and Ballads, copied by a granddaughter
of Lord Woodhouselee, 1840–50, p. 51.
1
O Mary Hamilton to the kirk is gane,
Wi ribbons in her hair;
An the king thoct mair o Marie
Then onie that were there.
2
Mary Hamilton’s to the preaching gane,
Wi ribbons on her breast;
An the king thocht mair o Marie
Than he thocht o the priest.
3
Syne word is thro the palace gane,
I heard it tauld yestreen,
The king loes Mary Hamilton
Mair than he loes his queen.
4
A sad tale thro the town is gaen,
A sad tale on the morrow;
Oh Mary Hamilton has born a babe,
An slain it in her sorrow!
5
And down then cam the auld queen,
Goud tassels tied her hair:
‘What did ye wi the wee wee bairn
That I heard greet sae sair?’
6
‘There neer was a bairn into my room,
An as little designs to be;
’Twas but a stitch o my sair side,
Cam owre my fair bodie.’
7
‘Rise up now, Marie,’ quo the queen,
‘Rise up, an come wi me,
For we maun ride to Holyrood,
A gay wedding to see.’
8
The queen was drest in scarlet fine,
Her maidens all in green;
An every town that they cam thro
Took Marie for the queen.
9
But little wist Marie Hamilton,
As she rode oure the lea,
That she was gaun to Edinbro town
Her doom to hear and dree.
10
When she cam to the Netherbow Port,
She laughed loud laughters three;
But when she reached the gallows-tree,
The tears blinded her ee.
11
‘Oh aften have I dressed my queen,
An put gowd in her hair;
The gallows-tree is my reward,
An shame maun be my share!
12
‘Oh aften hae I dressed my queen,
An saft saft made her bed;
An now I’ve got for my reward
The gallows-tree to tread!
13
‘There’s a health to all gallant sailors,
That sail upon the sea!
Oh never let on to my father and mither
The death that I maun dee!
14
‘An I charge ye, all ye mariners,
When ye sail owre the main,
Let neither my father nor mither know
But that I’m comin hame.
15
‘Oh little did my mither ken,
That day she cradled me,
What lands I was to tread in,
Or what death I should dee.
16
‘Yestreen the queen had four Maries,
The nicht she’ll hae but three;
There’s Marie Seaton, an Marie Beaton,
An Marie Carmichael, an me.’
H
Kinloch’s Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 252; a North Country version.
1
‘Whan I was a babe, and a very little babe,
And stood at my mither’s knee,
Nae witch nor warlock did unfauld
The death I was to dree.
2
‘But my mither was a proud woman,
A proud woman and a bauld;
And she hired me to Queen Mary’s bouer,
When scarce eleven years auld.
3
‘O happy, happy is the maid,
That’s born of beauty free!
It was my dimpling rosy cheeks
That’s been the dule o me;
And wae be to that weirdless wicht,
And a’ his witcherie!‘
4
Word’s gane up and word’s gane doun,
An word’s gane to the ha,
That Mary Hamilton was wi bairn,
An na body kend to wha.
5
But in and cam the queen hersel,
Wi gowd plait on her hair:
Says, Mary Hamilton, whare is the babe
That I heard greet sae sair?
6
‘There is na babe within my bouer,
And I hope there neer will be;
But it’s me wi a sair and sick colic,
And I’m just like to dee.’
7
But they looked up, they looked down,
Atween the bowsters and the wa,
It’s there they got a bonnie lad-bairn,
But its life it was awa.
8
Rise up, rise up, Mary Hamilton,
Rise up, and dress ye fine,
For you maun gang to Edinbruch,
And stand afore the nine.
9
‘Ye’ll no put on the dowie black,
Nor yet the dowie brown;
But ye’ll put on the robes o red,
To sheen thro Edinbruch town.’
10
‘I’ll no put on the dowie black,
Nor yet the dowie brown;
But I’ll put on the robes o red,
To sheen thro Edinbruch town.’
11
As they gaed thro Edinbruch town,
And down by the Nether-bow,
There war monie a lady fair
Siching and crying, Och how!
12
‘O weep na mair for me, ladies,
Weep na mair for me!
Yestreen I killed my ain bairn,
The day I deserve to dee.
13
‘What need ye hech and how, ladies?
What need ye how for me?
Ye never saw grace at a graceless face,
Queen Mary has nane to gie.’
14
‘Gae forward, gae forward,’ the queen she said,
‘Gae forward, that ye may see;
For the very same words that ye hae said
Sall hang ye on the gallows-tree.’
15
As she gaed up the Tolbooth stairs,
She gied loud lauchters three;
But or ever she cam down again,
She was condemnd to dee.
16
‘O tak example frae me, Maries,
O tak example frae me,
Nor gie your luve to courtly lords,
Nor heed their witchin’ ee.
17
‘But wae be to the Queen hersel,
She micht hae pardond me;
But sair she’s striven for me to hang
Upon the gallows-tree.
18
‘Yestreen the Queen had four Maries,
The nicht she’ll hae but three;
There was Mary Beatoun, Mary Seaton,
And Mary Carmichael, and me.
19
‘Aft hae I set pearls in her hair,
Aft hae I lac’d her gown,
And this is the reward I now get,
To be hangd in Edinbruch town!
20
‘O a’ye mariners, far and near,
That sail ayont the faem,
O dinna let my father and mither ken
But what I am coming hame!
21
‘O a’ye mariners, far and near,
That sail ayont the sea,
Let na my father and mither ken
The death I am to dee!
22
‘Sae, weep na mair for me, ladies,
Weep na mair for me;
The mither that kills her ain bairn
Deserves weel for to dee.’
I
#a.# Scott’s Minstrelsy, 1833, III, 294, made up from various
copies. #b.# Three stanzas (23, 18, 19) in the first edition of the
Minstrelsy, 1802, II, 154, from recitation.
1
Marie Hamilton’s to the kirk gane,
Wi ribbons in her hair;
The king thought mair o Marie Hamilton
Than ony that were there.
2
Marie Hamilton’s to the kirk gane,
Wi ribbons on her breast;
The king thought mair o Marie Hamilton
Then he listend to the priest.
3
Marie Hamilton’s to the kirk gane,
Wi gloves upon her hands;
The king thought mair o Marie Hamilton,
Than the queen and a’her lands.
4
She hadna been about the king’s court
A month, but barely one,
Till she was beloved by a’the king’s court,
And the king the only man.
5
She hadna been about the king’s court
A month, but barely three,
Till frae the king’s court Marie Hamilton,
Marie Hamilton durstna be.
6
The king is to the Abbey gane,
To pu the Abbey-tree,
To scale the babe frae Marie’s heart,
But the thing it wadna be.