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University  of  California  •  Berkeley 

From  the  book  collection  of 
BERTRAND  H.  BRONSON 

bequeathed  by  him 
or  donated  by  his  wife 

Mildred  S.  Bronson 


ENGLISH  AND  SCOTTISH 


BALLADS 


EDITED  BY 

FRANCIS  JAMES   CHILD. 


VOLUME  IV. 


BOSTON: 
LITTLE,    BROWN    AND    COMPANY. 


3I.DCCC.LX. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1857 
by  LITTLE,  BROWN  AND  COMPANY,  in  the  Clerk's  Office  of 
the  District  Court  of  Massachusetts. 


RIVERSIDE,  CAMBRIDGE: 

STEREOTYPED     AND     PRINTED      BY 
H.  0.  HOUGHTON  AND  COMPANY. 


BOOK  IV. 

CONTINUED. 


CONTENTS  OF  VOLUME  FOURTH. 

BOOK  IV.  (continued.) 

Page 

9  a.  Young  Beichan  and  Susie  Pye 1 

9  b.  Young  Bekie 10 

10  a.  Hynd  Horn,  [Motherwell] 17 

10  b.  Hynd  Horn,  [Buchan] 25 

11  a.  Katharine  Janfarie 29 

11  b.  Catherine  Johnstone 34 

12.  Bonny  Baby  Livingston 88 

13.  The  Broom  of  Cowdenknows 45 

14.  Johnie  Scot 50 

15.  Brown  Adam 60 

16  a.  Lizie  Lindsay,  [Jamieson] 63 

16  b.  Lizzie  Lindsay,  [Whitelaw] 68 

17.  Lizae  Baillie  ." 73 

18.  Glasgow  Peggy 76 

19.  Gtenlogie 80 

20.  John  O'Hazelgreen 83 

21.  The  Pause  Lover 89 

22.  The  Gardener 92 

23.  The  Duke  of  Athol 94 

24.  The  Rautin'  Laddie 97 

25.  The  Duke  of  Gordon's  Daughter 102 

26.  The  Laird  o'Logie 109 

27.  The  Gypsie  Laddie 114 

28.  Laird  of  Drum 118 

29  a.  Lady  Anne  Bothwell's  Lament,  [Ramsay] 123 

29  b.  Lady  Anne  Bothwell's  Lament,  [Percy] 129 

30  a.  Waly,  waly,  but  Love  be  bonny 132 


iy  CONTENTS. 

Page 

30  b.  Lord  Jamie  Douglas 135 

81.  The  Nutbrowne  Maide 143 

32.  The  Bailiff's  Daughter  of  Islington 158 

33.  The  Blind  Beggar's  Daughter  of  Bednall  Green. . .  161 

34.  The  Famous  Flower  of  Serving  Men 174 

35.  The  Fair  Flower  of  Northumberland 180 

36.  Gentle  Herdsman,  Tell  to  me 187 

37.  As  I  came  from  Walsingham  191 

38.  King  Cophetua  and  the  Beggar  Maid 195 

39.  The  Spanish  Lady's  Love 201 

40.  Patient  Grissel 207 

41.  The  King  of  France's  Daughter, 216 

42.  Constance  of  Cleveland 225 

43.  Willow,  Willow,  Willow     234 

44.  Greensleeves 240 

45.  Robene  and  Makyne 245 

APPENDIX. 

Lord  Beichan  and  Susie  Pye 253 

Sweet  William 261 

Young  Child  Dyring 265 

Barbara  Livingston 270 

Lang  Johnny  Moir 272 

Lizie  Baillie 280 

Johnnie  Faa  and  the  Countess  o'Cassilis 283 

Jamie  Douglas 287 

Laird  of  Blackwood 290 

The  Provost's  Dochter 292 

Blancheflour  and  Jellyflorice 295 

Chil  Ether 299 

Young  Bearwell 302 

Lord  Thomas  of  Winesberry  and  the  King's  Daughter. .  305 

•  LadyElspat 308 

The  Lovers  Quarrel 311 

The  Merchant's  Daughter  of  Bristow 328 


GLOSSARY 


YOUNG  BEICHAN  AND  SUSIE  PYE. 

AN  inspection  of  the  first  hundred  lines  of  Kobert 
of  Gloucester's  Life  and  Martyrdom  of  Thomas  Beket, 
(edited  for  the  Percy  Society  by  W.  H.  Black,  vol. 
xix,)  will  leave  no  doubt  that  the  hero  of  this  ancient 
and  beautiful  tale  is  veritably  Gilbert  Becket,  father  of 
the  renowned  Saint  Thomas  of  Canterbury.  Robert 
of  Gloucester's  story  coincides  in  all  essential  par 
ticulars  with  the  traditionary  legend,  but  Susie  Pye 
is,  unfortunately,  spoken  of  in  the  chronicle  by  no 
other  name  than  the  daughter  of  the  Saracen  Prince 
Admiraud. 

We  have  thought  it  well  to  present  the  three  best 
versions  of  so  popular  and  interesting  a  ballad.  The 
two  which  are  given  in  the  body  of  this  work  are 
Jamieson's,  from  Popular  Ballads,  ii.  117,  and  ii.  127. 
In  the  Appendix  is  Kinloch's,  from  Ancient  Scottish 
Ballads,  p.  260.  Other  printed  copies  are  Lord 
Beichan,  in  Richardson's  Borderer's  Table  Book,  vii. 
20,  communicated  by  J.  H.  Dixon,  who  has  inserted 
the  same  in  Ancient  Poems,  Ballads,  and  Songs,  Percy 
Society,  vol.  xvii.  p.  85' ;  Lord  Batem.an,  the  common 

VOL.  IV.  1 


2  YOUNG    BEICHAN    AND    SUSIE   PYE. 

English  broadside  (at  p.  95  of  the  collection  just 
cited)  ;  and  Young  Bondwell,  published  from  Buchan's 
MS.  in  Scottish  Traditionary  Versions  of  Ancient 
Ballads,  p.  1,  (Percy  Soc.vol.  xvii.)  identical,  we  sup 
pose,  with  the  copy  referred  to  by  Motherwell  in 
Scarce  Ancient  Ballads,  Peterhead,  1819.  There  is  a 
well-known  burlesque  of  the  ordinary  English  ballad, 
called  The  Loving  Ballad  of  Lord  Bateman,  with 
comical  illustrations  by  Cruikshank.  On  this  was 
founded  a  burlesque  drama,  produced  some  years  ago 
at  the  Strand  Theatre,  London,  with  great  applause. 

"  This  ballad,  and  that  which  succeeds  it  in  this  col 
lection,  (both  on  the  same  subject,)  are  given  from 
copies  taken  from  Mrs.  Brown's  recitation,  collated 
with  two  other  copies  procured  from  Scotland,  one  in 
MS.,  another  very  good  one  printed  for  the  stalls ;  a 
third,  in  the  possession  of  the  late  Reverend  Jonathan 
Boucher  of  Epsom,  taken  from  recitation  in  the  North 
of  England ;  and  a  fourth,  about  one  third  as  long  as 
the  others,  which  the  Editor  picked  off  an  old  wall  in 
Piccadilly." 

Jamieson's  interpolations  have  been  omitted. 

IN  London  was  young  Beichan  born, 
He  longed  strange  countries  for  to  see ; 

But  he  was  taen  by  a  savage  moor, 
Who  handled  him  right  cruellie  ; 

For  he  viewed  the  fashions  of  that  land ;          s 
Their  way  of  worship  viewed  he  ; 

But  to  Mahound,  or  Termagant, 
Would  Beichan  never  bend  a  knee. 


YOUNG    BEICHAN    AND    SUSIE    PYE. 

So  in  every  shoulder  they've  putten  a  bore  ; 

In  every  bore  they've  putten  a  tree  ; 
And  they  have  made  him  trail  the  wine 

And  spices  on  his  fair  bodie. 

They've  casten  him  in  a  dungeon  deep, 
Where  he  could  neither  hear  nor  see ; 

For  seven  years  they  kept  him  there, 
Till  he  for  hunger's  like  to  die. 

This  Moor  he  had  but  ae  daughter, 
Her  name  was  called  Susie  Pye  ; 

And  every  day  as  she  took  the  air, 
Near  Beichan's  prison  she  passed  by. 

O  so  it  fell,  upon  a  day 

She  heard  young  Beichan  sadly  sing  ; 
"  My  hounds  they  all  go  masterless  ; 

My  hawks  they  flee  from  tree  to  tree ; 
My  younger  brother  will  heir  my  land ; 

Fair  England  again  I'll  never  see !  " 

All  night  long  no  rest  she  got, 

Young  Beichan's  song  for  thinking  on  ; 
She's  stown  the  keys  from  her  father's  head, 

And  to  the  prison  strong  is  gone. 

And  she  has  open'd  the  prison  doors, 

I  wot  she  open'd  two  or  three, 
Ere  she  could  come  young  Beichan  at, 

He  was  locked  up  so  curiouslie. 


YOUNG   BEICHAN    AND    SUSIE    PYE. 

But  when  she  came  young  Beichan  before, 
Sore  wonder'd  he  that  may  to  see  ; 

He  took  her  for  some  fair  captive ; — 

"  Fair  Lady,  I  pray,  of  what  countrie  ?  " 

*'  0  have  ye  any  lands,"  she  said, 
"  Or  castles  in  your  own  countrie, 

That  ye  could  give  to  a  lady  fair, 

From  prison  strong  to  set  you  free  ?  " 

"  Near  London  town  I  have  a  hall, 
With  other  castles  two  or  three  ; 

I'll  give  them  all  to  the  lady  fair 

That  out  of  prison  will  set  me  free." 

"  Give  me  the  truth  of  your  right  hand, 

The  truth  of  it  give  unto  me, 
That  for  seven  years  ye'll  no  lady  wed, 

Unless  it  be  along  with  me." 

"  I'll  give  thee  the  truth  of  my  right  hand, 

The  truth  of  it  I'll  freely  gie, 
That  for  seven  years  I'll  stay  unwed, 

For  the  kindness  thou  dost  show  to  me." 

And  she  has  brib'd  the  proud  warder 
Wi'  mickle  gold  and  white  monie  ; 

She's  gotten  the  keys  of  the  prison  strong, 
And  she  has  set  young  Beichan  free. 


YOUNG    BEICHAN   AND    SUSIE   PTE.  5 

She's  gi'en  him  to  eat  the  good  spice-cake, 
She's  gi'en  him  to  drink  the  blood-red  wine ; 

She's  bidden  him  sometimes  think  on  her,        « 
That  sae  kindly  freed  him  out  of  pine. 

She's  broken  a  ring  from  her  finger, 
And  to  Beichan  half  of  it  gave  she : 

"  Keep  it,  to  mind  you  of  that  love  « 

The  lady  bore  that  set  you  free. 

"  And  set  your  foot  on  good  ship-board, 
And  haste  ye  back  to  your  own  countrie  ; 

And  before  that  seven  years  have  an  end, 
Come  back  again,  love,  and  marry  me."       w 

But  long  ere  seven  years  had  an  end, 
She  long'd  full  sore  her  love  to  see  ; 

For  ever  a  voice  within  her  breast 

Said,  u  Beichan  has  broke  his  vow  to  thee." 

So  she's  set  her  foot  on  good  ship-board,  is 

And  turn'd  her  back  on  her  own  countrie. 

She  sailed  east,  she  sailed  west, 
Till  to  fair  England's  shore  she  came ; 

Where  a  bonny  shepherd  she  espied, 

Feeding  his  sheep  upon  the  plain.  so 

"  What  news,  what  news,  thou  bonny  shepherd  ? 

What  news  hast  thou  to  tell  to  me  ?  " 
'  Such  news  I  hear,  ladie,"  he  says, 

"  The  like  was  never  in  this  countrie. 


YOUNG    BEICHAN    AND    SUSIE    PYE. 

"  There  is  a  wedding  in  yonder  hall, 
Has  lasted  these  thirty  days  and  three  ; 

Young  Beichan  will  not  bed  with  his  bride, 
For  love  of  one  that's  yond  the  sea." 

She's  put  her  hand  in  her  pocket, 
Gi'en  him  the  gold  and  white  monie ; 

«  Hae,  take  ye  that,  my  bonny  boy, 
For  the  good  news  thou  tell'st  to  me." 

When  she  came  to  young  Beichan's  gate, 

She  tirled  softly  at  the  pin ; 
So  ready  was  the  proud  porter 

To  open  and  let  this  lady  in. 

"  Is  this  young  Beichan's  hall,"  she  said, 
"  Or  is  that  noble  lord  within  ?  " 

«  Yea,  he's  in  the  hall  among  them  all, 
And  this  is  the  day  o'  his  weddin." 

"  And  has  he  wed  anither  love  ? 

And  has  he  clean  forgotten  me  ?  " 
And,  sighin',  said  that  gay  ladie, 

"  I  wish  I  were  in  my  own  countrie." 

And  she  has  taen  her  gay  gold  ring, 
That  with  her  love  she  brake  so  free  ; 

Says,  "  Gie  him  that,  ye  proud  porter, 
And  bid  the  bridegroom  speak  to  me- " 


YOUNG    BEICHAN    AND    SUSIE    PYE.  7 

When  the  porter  came  his  lord  before, 

He  kneeled  down  low  on  his  knee ua 

"  What  aileth  thee,  my  proud  porter, 
Thou  art  so  full  of  courtesie  ?  " 

"  I've  been  porter  at  your  gates, 

It's  thirty  long  years  now  and  three ; 

But  there  stands  a  lady  at  them  now,  us 

The  like  o'  her  did  I  never  see ; 

"  For  on  every  finger  she  has  a  ring, 
And  on  her  mid  finger  she  has  three ; 

And  as  meickle  gold  aboon  her  brow 

As  would  buy  an  earldom  to  me."  120 

Its  out  then  spak  the  bride's  mother, 
Aye  and  an  angry  woman  was  shee ; 

"  Ye  might  have  excepted  our  bonny  bride, 
And  twa  or  three  of  our  companie." 

"  O  hold  your  tongue,  thou  bride's  mother ;     12* 

Of  all  your  folly  let  me  be  ; 
She's  ten  times  fairer  nor  the  bride, 

And  all  that's  in  your  companie. 


109-112.  But  when  he  came  Lord  Jockey  before, 

He  kneeled  lowly  on  his  knee: 
"  What  news,  what  news,  thon  Tommy  Pots. 
Thou  art  so  full  of  courtesie?  " 

The  Lovers'  Quarrel,  v.  133-136. 


YOUNG   BEICHAN    AND    SUSIE    PYE. 

"  She  begs  one  sheave  of  your  white  bread, 
But  and  a  cup  of  your  red  wine ;  iso 

And  to  remember  the  lady's  love, 
That  last  reliev'd  you  out  of  pine." 

"  O  well-a-day  !  "  said  Beichan  then, 
"  That  I  so  soon  have  married  thee  ! 

For  it  can  be  none  but  Susie  Pye,  iss 

That  sailed  the  sea  for  love  of  me." 

And  quickly  hied  he  down  the  stair ; 

Of  fifteen  steps  he  made  but  three ; 
He's  ta'en  his  bonny  love  in  his  arms, 

And  kist,  and  kist  her  tenderlie.  ito 

"  O  hae  ye  ta'en  anither  bride  ? 

And  hae  ye  quite  forgotten  me  ? 
And  hae  ye  quite  forgotten  her, 

That  gave  you  life  and  libertie  ?  " 

She  looked  o'er  her  left  shoulder,  145 

To  hide  the  tears  stood  in  her  e'e : 

"  Now  fare  thee  well,  young  Beichan,"  she  says, 
"  I'll  try  to  think  no  more  on  thee." 

"  O  never,  never,  Susie  Pye, 

For  surely  this  can  never  be  ;  iso 

Nor  ever  shall  I  wed  but  her 

That's  done  and  dree'd  so  much  for  me." 


YOUNG   BEICHAN   AND    SUSIE    PTE.  £ 

Then  out  and  spak  the  forenoon  bride, — 
"  My  lord,  your  love  it  changeth  soon  ; 

This  morning  I  was  made  your  bride,  ix 

And  another  chose  ere  it  be  noon." 

"  O  hold  thy  tongue,  thou  forenoon  bride ; 

Ye're  ne'er  a  whit  the  worse  for  me ; 
And  whan  ye  return  to  your  own  countrie, 

A  double  dower  I'll  send  with  thee."  iao 

He's  taen  Susie  Pye  by  the  white  hand, 
And  gently  led  her  up  and  down ; 

And  ay  as  he  kist  her  red  rosy  lips, 
"  Ye're  welcome,  jewel,  to  your  own." 

He's  taen  her  by  the  milk-white  hand,  135 

And  led  her  to  yon  fountain  stane  ; 

He's  changed  her  name  from  Susie  Pye, 

And  he's  call'd  her  his  bonny  love,  Lady 
Jane. 


YOUNG  BEKIE. 


YOUNG  Bekie  was  as  brave  a  knight 

As  ever  sail'd  the  sea ; 
And  he's  doen  him  to  the  court  o'  France, 

To  serve  for  meat  and  fee. 

He  hadna  been  in  the  court  o'  France 

A  twelvemonth  nor  sae  lang, 
Till  he  fell  in  love  wi'  the  king's  daughter, 

And  was  thrown  in  prison  strang. 

The  king  he  had  but  ae  daughter, 

Burd  Isbel  was  her  name ; 
And  she  has  to  the  prison  gane, 

To  hear  the  prisoner's  mane. 


3.  Court  o'  France.  ''  And  first,  here  to  omit  the  programe 
of  him  and  his  mother,  named  Rose,  whom  Polyd.  Virgilius 
falsely  nameth  to  be  a  Saracen,  when  indeed  she  came  out 
of  the  parts  bordering  neere  to  Normandy."  Fox,  Acts  and 
Monuments,  cited  by  Motherwell,  p.  xvi. 


YOUNG   BEKIE.  11 

"  O  gin  a  lady  wad  borrow  me, 

At  her  stirrup  I  wad  rin  ; 
Or  gin  a  widow  wad  borrow  me,  is 

I  wad  swear  to  be  her  son. 

"  Or  gin  a  virgin  wad  borrow  me, 

I  wad  wed  her  wi'  a  ring ; 
I'd  gi'e  her  ha's,  I'd  gi'e  her  bowers, 

The  bonny  towers  o'  Linne."  20 

O  barefoot  barefoot  gaed  she  but, 

And  barefoot  cam  she  ben  ; 
It  wasna  for  want  o'  hose  and  shoon, 

Nor  time  to  put  them  on ; 

But  a'  for  fear  that  her  father  25 

Had  heard  her  makin'  din ; 
For  she's  stown  the  keys  of  the  prison, 

And  gane  the  dungeon  within. 

And  when  she  saw  him,  young  Bekie, 

Wow,  but  her  heart  was  sair  !  so 

For  the  mice,  but  and  the  bald  rattons, 
Had  eaten  his  yellow  hair. 

She's  gotten  him  a  shaver  for  his  beard, 

A  comber  till  his  hair ; 
Five  hundred  pound  in  his  pocket,  * 

To  spend,  and  nae  to  spare. 


12  YOUNG   BEKIE. 

She's  gi'en  him  a  steed  was  good  in  need, 

And  a  saddle  o'  royal  bane ; 
A  leash  o'  hounds  o'  ae  litter, 

And  Hector  called  ane.  <o 

Atween  thir  twa  a  vow  was  made, 

'Twas  made  full  solemnlie, 
That  or  three  years  were  come  and  gane, 

Weel  married  they  should  be. 

He  hadna  been  in's  ain  countrie  45 

A  twelvemonth  till  an  end, 
Till  he's  forced  to  marry  a  duke's  daughter, 

Or  than  lose  a'  his  land. 

"  Ochon,  alas  ! "  says  young  Bekie, 

"  I  kenna  what  to  dee  ;  «) 

For  I  canna  win  to  Burd  Isbel, 

And  she  canna  come  to  me." 

0  it  fell  out  upon  a  day 

Burd  Isbel  fell  asleep, 
And  up  it  starts  the  Billy  Blin,  « 

And  stood  at  her  bed  feet. 

"  O  waken,  waken,  Burd  Isbel ; 

How  can  ye  sleep  so  soun' ; 
When  this  is  Bekie's  wedding  day, 

And  the  marriage  gaing  on  ?  co 


YOUNG    BEKIE.  13 

"  Ye  do  ye  till  your  mither's  bower, 

As  fast  as  ye  can  gang ; 
And  ye  tak  three  o'  your  mother's  marys, 

To  haud  ye  unthocht  lang. 

"  Ye  dress  yoursel  i'  the  red  scarlet,  es 

And  your  marys  in  dainty  green ; 

And  ye  put  girdles  about  your  middle 
Wad  buy  an  earldome. 

"  Syne  ye  gang  down  by  yon  sea-side, 

And  down  by  yon  sea-strand  ;  70 

And  bonny  will  the  Hollans  boats 
Come  rowin'  till  your  hand. 

"  Ye  set  your  milk-white  foot  on  board, 

Cry,  «  Hail  ye,  Domine  ! ' 
And  I  will  be  the  steerer  o't,  75 

To  row  you  o'er  the  sea." 

She's  ta'en  her  till  her  mither's  bower, 

As  fast  as  she  could  gang ; 
And  she's  ta'en  twa  o'  her  mither's  marys, 

To  haud  her  unthocht  lang.  so 

She's  drest  hersel  i'  the  red  scarlet, 

Her  marys  i'  the  dainty  green ; 
And  they've  put  girdles  about  their  middle 

Would  buy  an  earldome. 


14  YOUNG    BEKIE. 

And  they  gaed  down  by  yon  sea-side,  ss 

And  down  by  yon  sea-strand  ; 
And  sae  bonny  as  the  Hollans  boats 

Come  rowin'  till  their  hand. 

She  set  her  milk-white  foot  on  board, 

Cried,  "  Hail  ye,  Domine !  "  ao 

And  the  Billy  Blin  was  the  steerer  o't, 
To  row  her  o'er  the  sea. 

Whan  she  cam  to  young  Bekie's  gate, 

She  heard  the  music  play ; 
And  her  mind  misgae  by  a'  she  heard,  95 

That  'twas  his  wedding  day. 

She's  pitten  her  hand  in  her  pocket, 

Gi'en  the  porter  markis  three  ; 
"  Hae,  take  ye  that,  ye  proud  porter, 

Bid  your  master  speake  to  me."  100 

O  whan  that  he  cam  up  the  stair, 

He  fell  low  down  on  his  knee : 
He  hail'd  the  king,  and  he  hail'd  the  queen, 

And  he  hail'd  him,  young  Bekie. 

"  O  I  have  been  porter  at  your  gates  105 

This  thirty  years  and  three  ; 
But  there  are  three  ladies  at  them  now, 

Their  like  I  did  never  see. 


YOUNG    BEKIE. 


15 


"  There's  ane  o'  them  drest  in  red  scarlet, 
And  twa  in  dainty  green  ;  HO 

And  they  hae  girdles  about  their  middles 
Would  buy  an  earldome." 

Then  out  and  spak  the  bierdly  bride, 

Was  a'  goud  to  the  chin ; 
"  Gin  she  be  fine  without,"  she  says,  us 

"  We's  be  as  fine  within." 

Then  up  it  starts  him,  young  Bekie, 

And  the  tear  was  in  his  e'e : 
« I'll  lay  my  life  it's  Burd  Isbel, 

Come  o'er  the  sea  to  me."  120 

O  quickly  ran  he  down  the  stair ; 

And  whan  he  saw  'twas  she, 
He  kindly  took  her  in  his  arms, 

And  kist  her  tenderlie. 

"  O  hae  ye  forgotten  now,  young  Bekie,          125 

The  vow  ye  made  to  me, 
When  I  took  you  out  of  prison  strang, 

When  ye  was  condemned  to  die  ? 

"  I  gae  you  a  steed  was  good  in  need, 

And  a  saddle  o'  royal  bane  ;  ia> 

A  leash  o'  hounds  o'  ae  litter ; 
And  Hector  called  ane." 


1C  YOUNG    BEKIE. 

It  was  weel  kent  what  the  lady  said, 

That  it  was  nae  a  lie  ; 
For  at  the  first  word  the  lady  spak,  135 

The  hound  fell  at  her  knee. 

"  Tak  name,  tak  hame  your  daughter  dear  ; 

A  blessing  gang  her  wi' ; 
For  I  maun  marry  my  Burd  Isbel, 

That's  come  o'er  the  sea  to  me."  HO 

"  Is  this  the  custome  o'  your  house, 

Or  the  fashion  o'  your  land, 
To  marry  a  maid  in  a  May  morning, 

Send  her  back  a  maid  at  e'en  ?  " 


HTOD  HORN. 

THOSE  metrical  romances,  which  in  the  chivalrous 
ages,  constituted  the  most  refined  pastime  of  a  rude 
nobility,  are  known  in  many  cases  to  have  been 
adapted  for  the  entertainment  of  humbler  hearers,  by 
abridgment  in  the  form  of  ballads.  Such  was  the 
case  with  the  ancient  gest  of  King  Horn.  Preserved 
in  several  MSS.,  both  French  and  English,  in  some 
thing  of  its  original  proportions,  an  epitome  of  it  has 
also  descended  to  us  through  the  mouths  of  the  people. 

An  imperfect  copy  of  the  following  piece  was  in 
serted  by  Cromek  in  his  Select  Scottish  Songs,  (Lon 
don,  1810,  vol.  ii.  p.  204-210.)  Better  editions  have 
since  been  furnished  by  Kinloch,  Ancient  Scottish 
Ballads,  p.  138  ;  Motherwell,  Minstrelsy,  p.  95  ;  and 
Buchan,  Ballads  of  the  North  of  Scotland,  ii.  268.  Of 
these,  we  reprint  the  last  two. 

All  the  poems  relating  to  Horn,  in  French  and 
English,  including  the  Scottish  ballads  above  men 
tioned,  are  collected  by  Michel  in  a  beautiful  volume 
of  the  Bannatyne  Club,  Horn  et  Rimenhild,  Paris, 
1845. 

VOL.  IV.  2 


18  HYND    HORN. 


From  Motherwell's  Minstrelsy,  p.  35. 

NEAR  Edinburgh  was  a  young  child  born, 
With  a  hey  lillelu  and  a  how  lo  Ian  ; 

And  his  name  it  was  called  Young  Hynd  Horn, 
And  the  birk  and  the  brume  blooms  bonnie. 

Seven  lang  years  he  served  the  King,  s 

With  a  hey  lillelu  and  a  how  lo  Ian  ; 

And  it's  a'  for  the  sake  of  his  dochter  Jean, 
And  the  birk  and  the  brume  blooms  bonnie. 

The  King  an  angry  man  was  he, 

With  a  hey  lillelu  and  a  how  lo  Ian  ;  10 

He  sent  young  Hynd  Horn  to  the  sea, 

And  the  birk  and  the  brume  blooms  bonnie. 

"01  never  saw  my  love  before, 

With  a  hey  lillelu,  and  a  how  lo  Ian  ; 

Till  I  saw  her  thro'  an  augre  bore,  is 

And  the  birk  and  the  brume  blooms  bonnie. 

"  And  she  gave  to  me  a  gay  gold  ring, 
With  a  hey  lillelu  and  a  how  lo  Ian  ; 

With  three  shining  diamonds  set  therein, 

And  the  birk  and  the  brume  blooms  bonnie.       20 


HTND    HORN.  19 

"  And  I  gave  to  her  a  silver  wand, 
With  a  hey  lillelu  and  a  how  lo  Ian  ; 

With  three  singing  laverocks  set  thereon, 
And  the  birk  and  the  brume  blooms  bonnie. 

''•  What  if  those  diamonds  lose  their  hue,  aa 

With  a  hey  lillelu  and  a  how  lo  Ian  ; 

Just  when  my  love  begins  for  to  rew, 

And  the  birk  and  the  brume  blooms  bonnie  ?  " 

"  For  when  your  ring  turns  pale  and  wan, 

With  a  hey  lillelu  and  a  how  lo  Ian  ;  so 

Then  I'm  in  love  with  another  man, 

And  the  birk  and  the  brume  blooms  bonnie." 


He's  left  the  land,  and  he's  gone  to  the  sea, 
With  a  hey  lillelu  and  a  how  lo  Ian  ; 

And  he's  stayed  there  seven  years  and  a  day,      sa 
And  the  birk  and  the  brume  blooms  bonnie. 

Seven  lang  years  he  has  been  on  the  sea, 

With  a  hey  lillelu  and  a  how  lo  Ian  ;          M 

And  Hynd  Horn  has  looked  how  his  ring  may  be, 
And  the  birk  and  the  brume  blooms  bonnie.       w 

But  when  he  looked  this  ring  upon, 
With  a  hey  lillelu  and  a  how  lo  Ian  ; 

The  shining  diamonds  were  both  pale  and  wan, 
And  the  birk  and  the  brume  blooms  bonnie. 


20  HYND    HORN. 

0  the  ring  it  was  both  black  and  blue,  « 

With  a  hey  lillelu  and  a  how  lo  Ian  ; 

And  she's  either  dead,  or  she's  married, 
And  the  birk  and  the  brume  blooms  bonnie. 

He's  left  the  seas,  and  he's  come  to  the  land, 
With  a  hey  lillelu  and  a  how  lo  Ian  ;  so 

And  the  first  he  met  was  an  auld  beggar  man, 
And  the  birk  and  the  brume  blooms  bonnie. 

"  What  news,  what  news,  my  silly  auld  man  ? 

With  a  hey  lillelu  and  a  how  lo  Ian  ; 
For  it's  seven  years  since  I  have  seen  land,         w 
And  the  birk  and  the  brume  blooms  bonnie. 

"  What  news,  what  news,  thou  auld  beggar  man  ? 

With  a  hey  lillelu  and  a  how  lo  Ian  ; 
What  news,  what  news,  by  sea  or  land  ? 

And  the  birk  and  the  brume  blooms  bonnie"     «o 

"  No  news  at  all,"  said  the  auld  beggar  man, 
With  a  hey  lillelu  and  a  how  lo  Ian  ; 

"  But  there  is  a  wedding  in  the  King's  hall, 
And  the  birk  and  the  brume  blooms  bonnie. 

"  There  is  a  King's  dochter  in  the  West,  « 

With  a  hey  lillelu  and  a  how  lo  Ian  ; 

And  she  has  been  married  thir  nine  nights  past, 
And  the  birk  and  the  brume  blooms  bonnie. 


HYND    HORN.  21 

"  Into  the  bride-bed  she  winna  gang, 

With  a  hey  Ullelu  and  a  how  lo  Ian  ;  TO 

Till  she  hears  tell  of  her  ain  Hynd  Horn, 

And  the  birk  and  the  brume  blooms  bonnie" 

"  Wilt  thou  give  to  me  thy  begging  coat  ? 

With  a  hey  lillelu  and  a  how  lo  Ian  ; 
And  I'll  give  to  thee  my  scarlet  cloak,  »a 

And  the  birk  and  the  brume  blooms  bonnie. 

"Wilt  thou  give  to  me  thy  begging  staff? 

With  a  hey  lillelu  and  a  how  lo  Ian  ; 
And  I'll  give  to  thee  my  good  gray  steed, 

And  the  birk  and  the  brume  blooms  bonnie"     so 

The  auld  beggar  man  cast  off  his  coat, 
With  a  hey  lillelu  and  a  how  lo  Ian  ; 

And  he's  ta'en  up  the  scarlet  cloak, 

And  the  birk  and  the  brume  blooms  bonnie. 

The  auld  beggar  man  threw  down  his  staff,          »» 
With  a  hey  lillelu  and  a  how  lo  Ian  ; 

And  he  has  mounted  the  good  gray  steed, 
And  the  birk  and  the  brume  blooms  bonnie. 

The  auld  beggar  man  was  bound  for  the  mill, 
With  a  hey  lillelu  and  a  how  lo  Ian  ;  so 

But  young  Hynd  Horn  for  the  King's  hall, 
And  the  birk  and  the  brume  blooms  bonnie. 


22  HYND    HORN. 

The  auld  beggar  man  was  bound  for  to  ride, 
With  a  hey  lillelu  and  a  how  lo  Ian  ; 

But  young  Hynd  Horn  was  bound  for  the  bride,  M 
And  the  bir/c  and  the  brume  blooms  bonnie. 

When  he  came  to  the  King's  gate, 
With  a  hey  lillelu  and  a  how  lo  Ian  ; 

He  asked  a  drink  for  young  Hynd  Horn's  sake, 
And  the  birk  and  the  brume  blooms  bonnie.      100 


These  news  unto  the  bonnie  bride  came, 
With  a  hey  lillelu  and  a  how  lo  Ian  ; 

That  at  the  yett  there  stands  an  auld  man, 
And  the  birk  and  the  brume  blooms  bonnie. 

"  There  stands  an  auld  man  at  the  King's  gate,  v* 
With  a  hey  lillelu  and  a  how  lo  Ian  ; 

He  asketh  a  drink  for  young  Hynd  Horn's  sake, 
And  the  birk  and  the  brume  blooms  bonnie. 

"  I'll  go  through  nine  fires  so  hot, 

With  a  hey  lillelu  and  a  how  lo  Ian  ;  no 

But  I'll  give  him  a  drink  for  young  Hynd  Horn's 
sake, 

And  the  birk  and  the  brume  blooms  bonnie." 

She  went  to  the  gate  where  the  auld  man  did 

stand, 
With  a  hey  lillelu  and  a  how  lo  Ian  ; 


HYND    HORN.  23 

And  she  gave  him  a  drink  out  of  her  own  hand,  ut 
And  the  birk  and  the  brume  blooms  bonnie. 

She  gave  him  a  cup  out  of  her  own  hand, 
With  a  hey  lillelu  and  a  how  lo  Ian  ; 

He  drunk  out  the  drink,  and  dropt  in  the  ring, 
And  the  birk  and  the  brume  blooms  bonnie.       120 

"  Got  thou  it  by  sea,  or  got  thou  it  by  land  ? 

With  a  hey  lillelu  and  a  how  lo  Ian  ; 
Or  got  thou  it  off  a  dead  man's  hand  ? 

And  the  birk  and  the  brume  blooms  bonnie." 

"  I  got  it  not  by  sea,  but  I  got  it  by  land,  us 

With  a  hey  lillelu  and  a  how  lo  Ian  ; 

For  I  got  it  out  of  thine  own  hand, 

And  the  birk  and  the  brume  blooms  bonnie" 

"I'll  cast  off  my  .gowns  of  brown, 

With  a  hey  lillelu  and  a  how  lo  Ian  ;  iao 

And  I'll  follow  thee  from  town  to  town, 

And  the  birk  and  the  brume  blooms  bonnie. 

"  I'll  cast  off  my  gowns  of  red, 

With  a  hey  lillelu  and  a  how  lo  Ian  ; 

And  along  with  thee  I'll  beg  my  bread,  135 

And  the  birk  and  the  brume  blooms  bonnie" 

"  Thou  need  not  cast  off  thy  gowns  of  brown, 
With  a  hey  lillelu  and  a  how  lo  Ian  ; 


24  HYND    HORN. 

For  I  can  make  thee  lady  of  many  a  town, 

And  the  birk  and  the  brume  blooms  bonnie.      HO 

"  Thou  need  not  cast  off  thy  gowns  of  red, 
With  a  hey  lillelu  and  a  how  lo  Ian  ; 

For  I  can  maintain  thee  with  both  wine  and  bread, 
And  the  birk  and  the  brume  blooms  bonnie" 

The  bridegroom  thought  he  had  the  bonnie  bride 
wed,  145 

With  a  hey  lillelu  and  a  how  lo  Ian  ; 
But  young  Hynd  Horn  took  the  bride  to  the  bed, 

And  the  birk  and  the  brume  blooms  bonnie. 


HYND  HORN. 

From  Buchan's  Ballads  of  the  North  of  Scotland,  ii.  268. 

"  HYND  HORN  fair,  and  Hynd  Horn  free, 
O  where  were  you  born,  in  what  countrie  ?" 
"  In  gude  greenwood,  there  I  was  born, 
And  all  my  forbears  me  beforn. 

"  O  seven  years  I  served  the  king, 
And  as  for  wages,  I  never  gat  nane  ; 
But  ae  sight  o'  his  ae  daughter, 
And  that  was  thro'  an  augre  bore. 

"  My  love  gae  me  a  siller  wand, 
'Twas  to  rule  ower  a'  Scotland ; 
And  she  gae  me  a  gay  gowd  ring, 
The  virtue  o't  was  above  a'  thing." 

"  As  tang's  this  ring  it  keeps  the  hue,, 
Ye'll  know  I  am  a  lover  true  ; 
But  when  the  ring  turns  pale  and  wan, 
Ye'll  know  I  love  another  man." 


26  HYND    HORN. 

He  hoist  up  sails,  and  awa'  sail'd  he, 

And  sail'd  into  a  far  countrie  ; 

And  when  he  look'd  upon  his  ring, 

He  knew  she  loved  another  man.  20 

He  hoist  up  sails  and  home  came  he,  ?  , 

Home  unto  his  ain  countrie ; 
The  first  he  met  on  his  own  land, 
It  chanc'd  to  be  a  beggar  man. 

"  What  news,  what  news,  my  gude  auld  man  ?  25 
What  news,  what  news,  hae  ye  to  me  ?  " 
"  Nae  news,  nae  news,"  said  the  auld  man, 
"  The  morn's  our  queen's  wedding  day." 

"  Will  ye  lend  me  your  begging  weed, 

And  I'll  lend  you  my  riding  steed  ?"  so 

"  My  begging  weed  will  ill  suit  thee, 

And  your  riding  steed  will  ill  suit  me." 

But  part  be  right,  and  part  be  wrang, 

Frae  the  beggar  man  the  cloak  he  wan ; 

"  Auld  man,  come  tell  to  me  your  leed,  35 

What  news  ye  gie  when  ye  beg  your  bread." 

"  As  ye  walk  up  unto  the  hill, 

Your  pike  staff  ye  lend  ye  till ; 

But  whan  ye  come  near  by  the  yett, 

Straight  to  them  ye  will  upstep.  ** 


HYND    HORN.  27 

"  Take  nane  frae  Peter,  nor  frae  Paul, 
Nane  frae  high  or  low  o'  them  all ; 
And  frae  them  all  ye  will  take  nane, 
Until  it  comes  frae  the  bride's  ain  hand." 

He  took  nane  frae  Peter,  nor  frae  Paul,  « 

Nane  frae  the  high  nor  low  o'  them  all ; 
And  frae  them  all  he  would  take  nane, 
Until  it  came  frae  the  bride's  ain  hand. 

The  bride  came  tripping  down  the  stair, 
The  combs  o'  red  gowd  in  her  hair  ;  no 

A  cup  o'  red  wine  in  her  hand, 
And  that  she  gae  to  the  beggar  man. 

Out  o'  the  cup  he  drank  the  wine, 

And  into  the  cup  he  dropt  the  ring ; 

"  O  got  ye't  by  sea,  or  got  ye't  by  land,  M 

Or  got  ye't  on  a  drown'd  man's  hand  ?" 

"  I  got  it  not  by  sea,  nor  got  it  by  land, 

Nor  got  I  it  on  a  drown'd  man's  hand ; 

But  I  got  it  at  my  wooing  gay, 

And  I'll  gie't  you  on  your  wedding  day."         » 

"  I'll  take  the  red  gowd  frae  my  head, 
And  follow  you,  and  beg  my  bread ; 
I'll  take  the  red  gowd  frae  my  hair, 
And  follow  you  for  evermair." 


28  HYND    HORN. 

Atween  the  kitchen  and  the  ha', 
He  loot  his  cloutie  cloak  down  fa'; 
And  wi'  red  gowd  shone  ower  them  a', 
And  frae  the  bridegroom  the  bride  he  sta'. 


KATHARINE  JANFARIE. 


A  STORY  similar  to  this  occurs  in  various  forms  both 
in  Scotland  and  the  Scandinavian  kingdoms.  Scott 
inserted  the  ballad  in  his  first  edition  under  the  title 
of  The  Laird  of  Laminton ;  the  present  copy  is  an 
improved  one  obtained  by  him  from  several  recitations. 
(Minstrelsy  of  the  Scottish  Border,  iii.  122.)  Other 
versions  are  Motherwell's,  printed  with  this,  Maid- 
ment's,  in  his  North  Countrie  Garland,  p.  34,  (Catha 
rine  Jaffery),  and  Buchan's,  in  his  Gleanings,  p.  74, 
(Loch-in-var.}  Sweet  William,  in  Motherwell's  col 
lection,  (see  Appendix,)  is  still  another  variety. 

Jamieson  has  translated  a  Danish  ballad  which, 
though  not  cognate  with  these,  exhibits  nearly  the  same 
incidents,  and  we  have  inserted  it  in  the  Appendix. 

It  need  hardly  be  remarked  that  the  spirited  ballad 
of  Lochinvar  in  Marmion  is  founded  on  this  ancient 
legend. 

THERE  was  a  may,  and  a  weel-far'd  may, 

Lived  high  up  in  yon  glen  : 
Her  name  was  Katharine  Janfarie, 

She  was  courted  by  mony  men. 


30  KATHARINE   JANFARIE. 

Up  then  came  Lord  Lauderdale,  s 

Up  frae  the  Lawland  Border  ; 
And  he  has  come  to  court  this  may, 

A'  mounted  in  good  order. 

He  told  na  her  father,  he  told  na  her  mother, 
And  he  told  na  ane  o'  her  kin ;  10 

But  he  whisper'd  the  bonnie  lassie  hersell, 
And  has  her  favour  won. 

But  out  then  cam  Lord  Lochinvar, 

Out  frae  the  English  Border, 
All  for  to  court  this  bonny  may,  u 

Weel  mounted,  and  in  order. 

He  told  her  father,  he  told  her  mother, 

And  a'  the  lave  o'  her  kin ; 
But  he  told  na  the  bonnie  may  hersell, 

Till  on  her  wedding  e'en.  20 

She  sent  to  the  Lord  o'  Lauderdale, 

Gin  he  wad  come  and  see  ; 
And  he  has  sent  word  back  again, 

Weel  answer'd  she  suld  be. 

And  he  has  sent  a  messenger,  as 

Right  quickly  through  the  land, 
And  raised  mony  an  armed  man 

To  be  at  his  command. 


KATHARINE    JANFARIE.  31 

The  bride  looked  out  at  a  high  window, 

Beheld  baith  dale  and  down,  so 

And  she  was  aware  of  her  first  true  love, 
With  riders  mony  a  one. 

She  scoffed  him,  and  scorned  him, 

Upon  her  wedding  day  ; 
And  said — it  was  the  fairy  court,  M 

To  see  him  in  array ! 

"  O  come  ye  here  to  fight,  young  lord, 

Or  come  ye  here  to  play, 
Or  come  ye  here  to  drink  good  wine 

Upon  the  wedding  day  ?  "  « 

"  I  come  na  here  to  fight,"  he  said, 

"I  come  na  here  to  play; 
I'll  but  lead  a  dance  wi'  the  bonny  bride, 

And  mount,  and  go  my  way." 

It  is  a  glass  of  the  blood-red  wine  « 

Was  filled  up  them  between, 
And  aye  she  drank  to  Lauderdale, 

Wha  her  true  love  had  been. 

He's  ta'en  her  by  the  milk-white  hand, 

And  by  the  grass-green  sleeve  ;  M 

He's  mounted  her  hie  behind  himsell, 
At  her  kinsmen  speir'd  na  leave. 


Z  KATHARINE   JANFARIE. 

"  Now  take  your  bride,  Lord  Lochinvar, 

Now  take  her,  if  you  may ! 
But  if  you  take  your  bride  again, 

We'll  call  it  but  foul  play." 

There  were  four-and-twenty  bonnie  boys, 
A'  clad  in  the  Johnstone  grey ; 

They  said  they  would  take  the  bride  again, 
By  the  strong  hand,  if  they  may. 

Some  o'  them  were  right  willing  men, 

But  they  were  na  willing  a' ; 
And  four-and-twenty  Leader  lads 

Bid  them  mount  and  ride  awa'. 

Then  whingers  flew  frae  gentles'  sides, 
And  swords  flew  frae  the  shea's, 

And  red  and  rosy  was  the  blood 
Ran  down  the  lily  braes. 

The  blood  ran  down  by  Caddon  bank, 

And  down  by  Caddon  brae  ; 
And,  sighing,  said  the  bonnie  bride, 

"  O  wae's  me  for  foul  play  ! " 

My  blessing  on  your  heart,  sweet  thing, 

Wae  to  your  wilfu'  will ! 
There's  mony  a  gallant  gentleman 

Whae's  bluid  ye  have  garr'd  to  spill. 


KATHARINE    JANFARIE.  33 

Now  a'  you  lords  of  fair  England, 

And  that  dwell  by  the  English  Border, 

Come  never  here  to  seek  a  wife, 

For  fear  of  sic  disorder.  » 

They'll  haik  ye  up,  and  settle  ye  bye, 

Till  on  your  wedding  day, 
Then  gie  ye  frogs  instead  of  fish, 

And  play  ye  foul  foul  play. 


VOL.    IV. 


CATHERINE  JOHNSTONE. 

OBTAINED  from  recitation,  in  the  West  of  Scot 
land.    Motherwell's  Minstrelsy,  p.  225. 

THERE  was  a  lass,  as  I  heard  say, 

Liv'd  low  doun  in  a  glen ; 
Her  name  was  Catherine  Johnstone, 

Weel  known  to  many  men. 

Doun  came  the  laird  o'  Lamington,  5 

Doun  from  the  South  Countrie ; 

And  he  is  for  this  bonnie  lass, 
Her  bridegroom  for  to  be. 

He's  ask'd  her  father  and  mother, 

The  chief  of  a'  her  kin ;  10 

And  then  he  ask'd  the  bonnie  lass, 
And  did  her  favour  win. 

Doun  came  an  English  gentleman, 
Doun  from  the  English  border ; 

He  is  for  this  bonnie  lass,  15 

To  keep  his  house  in  order. 


CATHERINE   JOHNSTONE.  35 

He  ask'd  her  father  and  mother, 

As  I  do  hear  them  say ; 
But  he  never  ask'd  the  lass  hersell, 

Till  on  her  wedding  day.  20 

But  she  has  wrote  a  long  letter, 

And  sealed  it  with  her  hand ; 
And  sent  it  to  Lord  Lamington, 

To  let  him  understand. 

The  first  line  o'  the  letter  he  read,  25 

He  was  baith  glad  and  fain ; 
But  or  he  read  the  letter  o'er, 

He  was  baith  pale  and  wan. 

Then  he  has  sent  a  messenger, 

And  out  through  all  his  land ;  so 

And  four-and-twenty  armed  men 

Was  all  at  his  command. 

But  he  has  left  his  merry  men  all, 

Left  them  on  the  lee ; 
And  he's  awa  to  the  wedding  house,  z> 

To  see  what  he  could  see. 

But  when  he  came  to  the  wedding  house, 

As  I  do  understand, 
There  were  four-and-twenty  belted  knights 

Sat  at  a  table  round.  40 


36  CATHERINE   JOHNSTONE. 

They  rose  all  to  honour  him, 
For  he  was  of  high  renown  ; 

They  rose  all  for  to  welcome  him, 
And  bade  him  to  sit  down. 

O  meikle  was  the  good  red  wine 

In  silver  cups  did  flow ; 
But  aye  she  drank  to  Lamington, 

For  with  him  would  she  go. 

O  meikle  was  the  good  red  wine 
In  silver  cups  gaed  round  ; 

At  length  they  began  to  whisper  words. 
None  could  them  understand. 

"  O  came  ye  here  for  sport,  young  man, 
Or  came  ye  here  for  play  ? 

Or  came  ye  for  our  bonnie  bride, 
On  this  her  wedding  day  ?  " 

"  I  came  not  here  for  sport,"  he  said, 

"  Neither  did  I  for  play  ; 
But  for  one  word  o'  your  bonnie  bride, 

I'll  mount  and  go  away." 

They  set  her  maids  behind  her, 
To  hear  what  they  would  say  ; 

But  the  first  question  he  ask'd  at  her 
Was  always  answered  nay ; 

The  next  question  he  ask'd  at  her 
Was,  "Mount  and  come  away?" 


CATHERINE   JOHNSTONE.  37 

It's  up  the  Couden  bank, 

And  doun  the  Couden  brae ; 
And  aye  she  made  the  trumpet  sound, 

It's  a  weel  won  play.  ro 

O  meikle  was  the  blood  was  shed 

Upon  the  Couden  brae ; 
And  aye  she  made  the  trumpet  sound, 

It's  a'  fair  play. 

Come,  a'  ye  English  gentlemen,  » 

That  is  of  England  born, 
Come  na  doun  to  Scotland, 

For  fear  ye  get  the  scorn. 

They'll  feed  ye  up  wi'  flattering  words, 
And  that's  foul  play  ;  so 

And  they'll  dress  you  frogs  instead  of  fish, 
Just  on  your  wedding  day. 


BONNY  BABY  LIVINGSTON. 


JAMIESON'S  Popular  Ballads*  ii.  135,  from  Mrs. 
Brown's  recitation.  Barbara  Livingston,  a  shorter 
piece,  with  a  different  catastrophe,  is  given  in  the 
Appendix,  from  Motherwell's  collection. 


O  BONNY  Baby  Livingstone 
Gaed  out  to  view  the  hay ; 

And  by  it  cam  him  Glenlyon, 
Staw  bonny  Baby  away. 

And  first  he's  taen  her  silken  coat, 
And  neist  her  satten  gown  ; 

Syne  row'd  her  in  his  tartan  plaid, 
And  happ'd  her  round  and  roun.' 

He's  mounted  her  upon  a  steed, 
And  roundly  rade  away ; 

And  ne'er  loot  her  look  back  again 
The  lee-lang  simmer  day. 


BONNY    BABY    LIVINGSTON.  39 

He's  carried  her  o'er  yon  hich  hich  hill, 

Intill  a  Highland  glen, 
And  there  he  met  his  brother  John  is 

Wi'  twenty  armed  men. 

And  there  were  cows,  and  there  were  ewes, 

And  there  were  kids  sae  fair ; 
But  sad  and  wae  was  bonny  Baby, 

Her  heart  was  fu'  o'  care.  20 

He's  taen  her  in  his  arms  twa, 

And  kist  her  cheek  and  chin  ; 
"  I  wad  gi'e  a'  my  flocks  and  herds, 

Ae  smile  frae  thee  to  win." 

"  A  smile  frae  me  ye'se  never  win ;  25 

I'll  ne'er  look  kind  on  thee  ; 
Ye've  stown  me  awa  frae  a'  my  kin, 

Frae  a'  that's  dear  to  me. 

"  Dundee,  kind  sir,  Dundee,  kind  sir, 

Tak  me  to  bonny  Dundee ;  ac 

For  ye  sail  ne'er  my  favour  win 
Till  it  ance  mair  I  see." 

"  Dundee,  Baby !  Dundee,  Baby  ! 

Dundee  ye  ne'er  shall  see  ; 
But  I  will  carry  you  to  Glenlyon,  a 

Where  you  my  bride  shall  be. 


40  BONNY    BABY    LIVINGSTON. 

"  Or  will  ye  stay  at  Achingour, 
And  eat  sweet  milk  and  cheese ; 

Or  gang  wi'  me  to  Glenlyon, 

And  there  we'll  live  at  our  ease  ?  " 

"  I  winna  stay  at  Achingour  ; 

I  care  neither  for  milk  nor  cheese  ; 
Nor  gang  wi'  thee  to  Glenlyon  ; 

For  there  I'll  ne'er  find  ease." 

Then  out  it  spak  his  brother  John  ; 

"  If  I  were  in  your  place, 
I'd  send  that  lady  hame  again, 

For  a'  her  bonny  face. 

"  Commend  me  to  the  lass  that's  kind, 
Though  nae  sae  gently  born  ; 

And,  gin  her  heart  I  coudna  win, 
To  take  her  hand  I'd  scorn." 

"  O  baud  your  tongue,  my  brother  John  ; 

Ye  wisna  what  ye  say ; 
For  I  hae  lued  that  bonny  face 

This  mony  a  year  and  day. 

"  I've  lued  her  lang,  and  lued  her  weel, 
But  her  love  I  ne'er  could  win  ; 

And  what  I  canna  fairly  gain, 
To  steal  I  think  nae  sin." 


BONNY   BABY   LIVINGSTON.  41 

Whan  they  cam  to  Glenlyon  castle, 

They  lighted  at  the  yett ; 
And  out  they  cam,  his  three  sisters, 

Their  brother  for  to  greet. 

And  they  have  taen  her,  bonny  Baby,  BS 

And  led  her  o'er  the  green ; 
And  ilka  lady  spak  a  word, 

But  bonny  Baby  spake  nane. 

Then  out  it  spak  her,  bonny  Jane, 

The  youngest  o'  the  three  :  ro 

"  0  lady,  why  look  ye  sae  sad  ? 

Come  tell  your  grief  to  me." 

ft  O  wharefore  should  I  tell  my  grief, 

Since  lax  I  canna  find  ? 
I'm  far  frae  a'  my  kin  and  friends,  re 

And  my  love  I  left  behind. 

"  But  had  I  paper,  pen,  and  ink, 

Afore  that  it  were  day, 
I  yet  might  get  a  letter  wrate, 

And  sent  to  Johnie  Hay.  w 

"  And  gin  I  had  a  bonny  boy, 

To  help  me  in  my  need, 
That  he  might  rin  to  bonny  Dundee, 

And  come  again  wi'  speed  ! " 


J  BONNY    BABY    LIVINGSTON. 

And  they  hae  gotten  a  bonny  boy  85 

Their  errand  for  to  gang ; 
And  bade  him  run  to  Bonny  Dundee, 

And  nae  to  tarry  lang. 

The  boy  he  ran  o'er  muir  and  dale, 

As  fast  as  he  could  flee  ;  w 

And  e'er  the  sun  was  twa  hours  hight, 
The  boy  was  at  Dundee. 

Whan  Johnie  lookit  the  letter  on, 

A  hearty  laugh  leuch  he ; 
But  ere  he  read  it  till  an  end,  * 

The  tear  blinded  his  e'e. 

"  O  wha  is  this,  or  wha  is  that, 

Has  stown  my  love  frae  me  ? 
Although  he  were  my  ae  brither, 

An  ill  dead  sail  he  die.  wo 

"  Gae,  saddle  to  me  the  black,"  he  says ; 

"  Gae,  saddle  to  me  the  brown ; 
Gae,  saddle  to  me  the  swiftest  steed, 

That  ever  rade  frae  the  town." 

He's  call'd  upon  his  merry  men  a',  iw 

To  follow  him  to  the  glen  ; 
And  he's  vow'd  he'd  neither  eat  nor  sleep 

Till  he  got  his  love  again. 


BONNY    BABY    LIVINGSTON.  43 

He's  mounted  him  on  a  milk-white  steed, 
And  fast  he  rade  away  ;  110 

And  he's  come  to  Glenlyon's  yett, 
About  the  close  o'  day. 

As  Baby  at  her  window  stood, 
And  the  west-wind  saft  did  blaw, 

She  heard  her  Johnie's  well-kent  voice  us 

Aneath  the  castle  wa'. 

"  O  Baby,  haste,  the  window  loup ; 

I'll  kep  you  in  my  arm  ; 
My  merry  men  a'  are  at  the  yett 

To  rescue  you  frae  harm."  120 

She  to  the  window  fix'd  her  sheets, 

And  slipped  safely  down ; 
And  Johnie  catched  her  in  his  arms, 

Ne'er  loot  her  touch  the  groun'. 

Glenlyon  and  his  brother  John  125 

Were  biding  in  the  ha', 
When  they  heard  Johnie's  bridle  ring 

As  fast  he  rade  awa'. 

"  Rise,  Jock  ;  gang  out  and  meet  the  priest ; 

I  hear  his  bridle  ring ;  iso 

My  Baby  now  shall  be  my  wife, 

Before  the  laverock  sing." 


44  BONNY    BABY   LIVINGSTON. 

"  0  brother,  this  is  nae  the  priest ; 

I  fear  he'll  come  o'er  late ; 
For  armed  men  wi'  shining  brands  135 

Stand  at  the  castle  yett." 

"  Haste,  Donald,  Duncan,  Dugald,  Hugh, 
Haste,  tak  your  sword  and  spear ; 

We'll  gar  these  traytors  rue  the  hour 

That  e'er  they  ventured  here."  140 

The  Highlandrnen  drew  their  claymores, 

And  gae  a  warlike  shout ; 
But  Johnie's  merry  men  kept  the  yett, 

Nae  ane  durst  venture  out. 

The  lovers  rade  the  lee-lang  night,  i« 

And  safe  got  on  their  way ; 
And  Bonny  Baby  Livingstone 

Has  gotten  Johny  Hay. 

"  Awa,  Glenlyon  !  fy  for  shame  ! 

Gae  hide  you  in  some  den ;  iw 

You've  latten  your  bride  be  stown  frae  you, 

For  a'  your  armed  men." 


THE  BROOM   OF   COWDENKNOWS. 


Minstrelsy  of  the  Scottish  Border,  in.  37.  For  other 
versions,  see  Bonny  May,  Herd's  Scottish  Songs,  i.  159, 
and  Johnson's  Museum,  p.  113  ;  Broom  o'  the  Cowden- 
knowes,  Buchan,  i.  172  ;  Laird  of  Ochiltree,  Kinloch, 
160  ;  Laird  of  Lochnie,  Kinloch,  167. 


O  THE  broom,  and  the  bonny  bonny  broom, 
And  the  broom  of  the  Cowdenknows ! 

And  aye  sae  sweet  as  the  lassie  sang, 
F  the  bought,  milking  the  ewes. 

The  hills  were  high  on  ilka  side, 
An'  the  bought  i'  the  lirk  o'  the  hill, 

And  aye,  as  she  sang,  her  voice  it  rang, 
Out  o'er  the  head  o'  yon  hill. 

There  was  a  troup  o'  gentlemen 

Came  riding  merrilie  by, 
And  one  of  them  has  rode  out  o'  the  way, 

To  the  bought  to  the  bonny  may. 


46  THE    BROOM    OP    COWDENKNOWS. 

"  Weel  may  ye  save  an'  see,  bonny  lass, 
An'  weel  may  ye  save  an'  see." — 

"  An'  sae  wi'  you,  ye  weel-bred  knight,  u 

And  what's  your  will  wi'  me  ?  " — 

"  The  night  is  misty  and  mirk,  fair  may, 

And  I  have  ridden  astray, 
And  will  you  be  so  kind,  fair  may, 

As  come  out  and  point  my  way  ?  " —  20 

"  Ride  out,  ride  out,  ye  ramp  rider ! 

Your  steed's  baith  stout  and  strang ; 
For  out  of  the  bought  I  dare  na  come, 

For  fear  'at  ye  do  me  wrang." — 

"  O  winna  ye  pity  me,  bonny  lass,  as 

O  winna  ye  pity  me  ? 
An'  winna  ye  pity  my  poor  steed, 

Stands  trembling  at  yon  tree  ?  " — 

"  I  wadna  pity  your  poor  steed, 

Though  it  were  tied  to  a  thorn  ;  so 

For  if  ye  wad  gain  my  love  the  night, 

Ye  wad  slight  me  ere  the  morn. 

"  For  I  ken  you  by  your  weel-busket  hat, 

And  your  merrie  twinkling  ee, 
That  ye're  the  Laird  o'  the  Oakland  hills,        ss 

An'  ye  may  weel  seem  for  to  be." — 


THE    BROOM    OF    COWDENKNOWS.  47 

"  But  I  am  not  the  Laird  o'  the  Oakland  hills, 

Ye're  far  mista'en  o'  me  ; 
But  I'm  ane  o'  the  men  about  his  house, 

An'  right  aft  in  his  companie." — •  <o 

He's  ta'en  her  by  the  middle  jimp, 

And  by  the  grass-green  sleeve  ; 
He's  lifted  her  over  the  fauld-dyke, 

And  speer'd  at  her  sma'  leave. 

O  he's  ta'en  out  a  purse  o'  gowd,  <s 

And  streek'd  her  yellow  hair  ; 
"  Now,  take  ye  that,  my  bonny  may, 

Of  me  till  you  hear  mair." — 

O  he's  leapt  on  his  berry-brown  steed, 

An'  soon  he's  o'er  ta'en  his  men  ;  » 

And  ane  and  a'  cried  out  to  him, 
"  0  master,  ye've  tarry'd  lang ! " — 

"  O  I  hae  been  east,  and  I  hae  been  west, 
An'  I  hae  been  far  o'er  the  knowes, 

But  the  bonniest  lass  that  ever  I  saw  55 

Is  i'  the  bought,  milking  the  ewes." — 

She  set  the  cog  upon  her  head, 

An'  she's  gane  singing  hame  ; 
*•'  O  where  hae  ye  been,  my  ae  daughter  ? 

Ye  hae  na  been  your  lane." —  GO 


48  THE    BROOM    OF    COWDENKNOWS. 

"  0  naebody  was  wi'  me,  father, 

0  naebody  has  been  wi'  me ; 
The  night  is  misty  and  mirk,  father, 

Yee  may  gang  to  the  door  and  see. 

"  But  wae  be  to  your  ewe-herd,  father, 

And  an  ill  deed  may  he  die ; 
He  bug  the  bought  at  the  back  o'  the  knowe, 

And  a  tod  has  frighted  me. 

"  There  came  a  tod  to  the  bought  door, 

The  like  I  never  saw ; 
And  ere  he  had  ta'en  the  lamb  he  did, 

1  had  lourd  he  had  ta'en  them  a'." — 

O  whan  fifteen  weeks  was  come  and  gane, 

Fifteen  weeks  and  three, 
That  lassie  began  to  look  thin  and  pale, 

An'  to  long  for  his  merry-twinkling  ee. 

It  fell  on  a  day,  on  a  het  simmer  day, 
She  was  ca'ing  out  her  father's  kye, 

Bye  came  a  troop  o'  gentlemen, 
A'  merrilie  riding  bye. 

"Weel  may  ye  save  an'  see,  bonny  may, 

Weel  may  ye  save  and  see  ! 
Weel  I  wat,  ye  be  a  very  bonny  may, 

But  whae's  aught  that  babe  ye  are  wi'  ?  " 


THE    BROOM    OF    COWDENKNOWS.  49 

Never  a  word  could  that  lassie  say,  85 

For  never  a  ane  could  she  blame, 

An'  never  a  word  could  the  lassie  say, 
But  "  I  have  a  gudeman  at  hame." — 

"  Ye  lied,  ye  lied,  my  very  bonny  may, 

Sae  loud  as  I  hear  you  lie  ;  » 

For  dinna  ye  mind  that  misty  night 
I  was  i'  the  bought  wi'  thee  ? 

"  I  ken  you  by  your  middle  sae  jimp, 

An'  your  merry-twinkling  ee, 
That  ye're  the  bonny  lass  i'  the  Cowdenknow, 

An*  ye  may  weel  seem  for  to  be." —  96 

Then  he's  leapt  off  his  berry-brown  steed, 

An'  he's  set  that  fair  may  on — 
"  Ca'  out  your  kye,  gude  father,  yoursell, 

For  she's  never  ca'  them  out  again.  100 

"  I  am  the  Laird  of  the  Oakland  hills, 

I  hae  thirty  plows  and  three  ; 
An'  I  hae  gotten  the  bonniest  lass 

That's  in  a'  the  south  countrie." 


VOL.  IV. 


JOHNIE  SCOT. 


THE  edition  of  this  ballad  here  printed  was  pre 
pared  by  Motherwell  from  three  copies  obtained  from 
recitation,  (Minstrelsy,  p.  204.)  Other  versions  have 
been  published  in  Kinloch's  Ancient  Scottish  Ballads, 
p.  78,  Buchan's  Ballads  of  the  North  of  Scotland,  i. 
248,  and  his  Gleanings,  p.  122.  The  proper  names 
which  occur  in  the  course  of  the  piece  vary  consider 
ably  in  the  different  copies.  In  two  of  MotherwelPs, 
the  hero's  designation  was  Johnie  Scot,  in  a  third, 
Johnie  M'Nauchton.  In  one  of  Buchan's  he  is  styled 
Love  John,  in  the  other,  Lang  Johnny  Moir.  In 
Kinloch's  copy,  "  Buneftan  is  his  name,"  and  he  is 
also  called  "Jack  that  little  Scot,"  which  seems  to 
have  been  the  title  of  the  ballad  in  an  unpublished 
collection  quoted  by  Ritson  in  his  Dissertation  on 
Scottish  Song,  p.  Ixxxi.  In  like  manner,  for  the  King 
of  Aulsberry,  (v.  Ill,)  we  have  the  various  readings, 
Duke  of  Marlborough,  Duke  of  Mulberry,  Duke  of 
York,  and  Duke  of  Winesberrie,  and  in  the  follow 
ing  verse,  James  the  Scottish  King,  for  the  King  of 
Spain. 


JOHNIE    SCOT.  51 

The  following  passage,  illustrative  of  the  feat  of 
arms  accomplished  by  Johnie  Scot,  was  pointed  out 
to  Motherwell  by  Mr.  Sharpe  : — James  Macgill,  of  Lin- 
dores,  having  killed  Sir  Robert  Balfour,  of  Denmiln, 
in  a  duel,  "  immediately  went  up  to  London  in  order 
to  procure  his  pardon,  which,  it  seems,  the  King 
(Charles  the  Second)  offered  to  grant  him,  upon  con 
dition  of  his  fighting  an  Italian  gladiator,  or  bravo,  or, 
as  he  was  called,  a  bully,  which,  it  is  said,  none  could 
be  found  to  do.  Accordingly,  a  large  stage  was 
erected  for  the  exhibition  before  the  King  and  court. 
Sir  James,  it  is  said,  stood  on  the  defensive  till  the 
bully  had  spent  himself  a  little ;  being  a  taller  man 
than  Sir  James,  in  his  mighty  gasconading  and  brava- 
doing,  he  actually  leapt  over  the  knight  as  if  he  would 
swallow  him  alive ;  but,  in  attempting  to  do  this  a 
second  time,  Sir  James  ran  his  sword  up  through  him, 
and  then  called  out,  '  I  have  spitted  him,  let  them 
roast  him  who  will.'  This  not  only  procured  his 
pardon,  but  he  was  also  knighted  on  the  spot." — 
Small's  Account  of  Roman  Antiquities  recently  discov 
ered  iti  Fife,  p.  217. 

From  Buchan's  Lang  Johnny  Moir,  printed  in  the 
Appendix,  it  will  be  seen  that  the  title  of  Little  Scot 
is  not  to  be  taken  literally,  but  that  the  doughty 
champion  was  a  man  of  huge  stature. 


O  JOHNIE  SCOT  's  to  the  hunting  gane, 

Unto  the  woods  sae  wild ; 
And  Earl  Percy's  ae  daughter 

To  him  goes  big  wi'  child. 


52  JOHNIE     SCOT. 

O  word  is  to  the  kitchen  gane,  5 

And  word  is  to  the  ha', 
And  word  is  to  the  highest  towers, 

Among  the  nobles  a'. 

"If  she  be  wi'  child,"  her  father  said, 

"  As  woe  forbid  it  be  !  1° 

I'll  put  her  into  a  prison  strang, 
And  try  the  veritie." 

"  But  if  she  be  wi'  child,"  her  mother  said, 

"  As  woe  forbid  it  be ! 
I'll  put  her  intill  a  dungeon  dark,  is 

And  hunger  her  till  she  die." 

0  Johnie  's  called  his  waiting  man, 

His  name  was  Germanic : 
"  It 's  thou  must  to  fair  England  gae, 

Bring  me  that  gay  ladie.  20 

"  And  here  it  is  a  silken  sark, 
Her  ain  hand  sewed  the  sleeve ; 

Bid  her  come  to  the  merry  green  wood, 
To  Johnie  her  true  love." 

He  rode  till  he  came  to  Earl  Percy's  gate,  25 

He  tirled  at  the  pin : 
"  O  wha  is  there  ?  "  said  the  proud  porter ; 

"  But  I  daurna  let  thee  in." 


JOHNIE    SCOT.  53 

It's  he  rode  up,  and  he  rode  down, 

He  rode  the  castle  about,  ao 

Until  he  spied  a  fair  ladie 
At  a  window  looking  out. 

"  Here  is  a  silken  sark,"  he  said, 
"  Thy  ain  hand  sewed  the  sleeve  ; 

And  ye  must  gae  to  the  merry  green  woods,  '« 
To  Johnie  Scot  thy  love." 

"  The  castle  it  is  high,  my  boy, 

And  walled  round  about; 
My  feet  are  in  the  fetters  strong, 

And  how  can  I  get  out  ?  10 

"  My  garters  are  o'  the  gude  black  iron, 

And  O  but  they  be  cold ; 
My  breast-plate's  o'  the  sturdy  steel, 

Instead  of  beaten  gold. 

"  But  had  I  paper,  pen,  and  ink,  « 

Wi'  candle  at  my  command, 
It's  I  would  write  a  lang  letter 

To  John  in  fair  Scotland." 

Then  she  has  written  a  braid  letter, 

And  sealed  it  wi'  her  hand,  50 

And  sent  it  to  the  merry  green  wood, 
Wi'  her  own  boy  at  command. 


54  JOHNIE    SCOT. 

The  first  line  of  the  letter  Johnie  read, 

A  loud,  loud  lauch  leuch  he  ; 
But  he  had  not  read  ae  line  but  twa,  M 

Till  the  saut  tears  did  blind  his  ee. 

"  O  I  must  up  to  England  go, 

Whatever  me  betide, 
For  to  relieve  mine  own  fair  ladie, 

That  lay  last  by  my  side."  « 

Then  up  and  spak  Johnie's  auld  mither, 
A  weel  spoke  woman  was  she : 

"  If  you  do  go  to  England,  Johnie, 
I  may  take  fareweel  o'  thee." 

And  out  and  spak  his  father  then,  65 

And  he  spak  well  in  time  : 
"  If  thou  unto  fair  England  go, 

I  fear  ye'll  ne'er  come  name." 

But  out  and  spak  his  uncle  then, 

And  he  spak  bitterlie  :  ?o 

"  Five  hundred  of  my  good  life-guards 
Shall  bear  him  cornpanie." 

When  they  were  all  on  saddle  set, 

They  were  comely  to  behold ; 
The  hair  that  hung  owre  Johnie's  neck  shined 

Like  the  links  o'  yellow  gold.  •/« 


JOHNIE    SCOT.  55 

When  they  were  all  marching  away, 

Most  pleasant  for  to  see, 
There  was  not  so  much  as  a  married  man 

In  Johnie's  companie.  so 

Johnie  Scot  himsell  was  the  foremost  man 

In  the  company  that  did  ride ; 
His  uncle  was  the  second  man, 

Wi'  his  rapier  by  his  side. 

The  first  gude  town  that  Johnie  came  to,     85 

He  made  the  bells  be  rung ; 
And  when  he  rode  the  town  all  owre, 

He  made  the  psalms  be  sung. 

The  next  gude  town  that  Johnie  came  to, 
He  made  the  drums  beat  round ;  90 

And  the  third  gude  town  that  he  came  to, 
He  made  the  trumpets  sound, 

Till  King  Henry  and  all  his  merry  men 
A-marvelled  at  the  sound. 

And  when  they  came  to  Earl  Percy's  yates,  95 

They  rode  them  round  about ; 
And  who  saw  he  but  his  own  true  love 

At  a  window  looking  out  ? 

"  O  the  doors  are  bolted  with  iron  and  steel, 
So  are  the  windows  about ;  100 


56  JOHNIE    SCOT. 

And  my  feet  they  are  in  fetters  strong ; 
And  how  can  I  get  out  ? 

"  My  garters  they  are  of  the  lead, 

And  O  but  they  be  cold ; 
My  breast-plate's  of  the  hard,  hard  steel,     ioc 

Instead  of  beaten  gold." 

But  when  they  came  to  Earl  Percy's  yett, 

They  tirled  at  the  pin ; 
None  was  so  ready  as  Earl  Percy  himsell 

To  open  and  let  them  in.  110 

"  Art  thou  the  King  of  Aulsberry, 
Or  art  thou  the  King  of  Spain  ? 

Or  art  thou  one  of  our  gay  Scots  lords, 
M'Nachton  be  thy  name  ? " 

"  I'm  not  the  King  of  Aulsberry,  us 

Nor  yet  the  King  of  Spain  ; 
But  am  one  of  our  gay  Scots  lords, 

Johnie  Scot  I  am  called  by  name." 

When  Johnie  came  before  the  king, 

He  fell  low  down  on  his  knee  :  lar 

"  If  Johnie  Scot  be  thy  name,"  he  said, 
u  As  I  trew  weel  it  be, 

Then  the  brawest  lady  in  a'  my  court 
Gaes  big  wi'  child  to  thee." 


JOHNIE    SCOT.  57 

"  If  she  be  with  child,"  fair  Johnie  said,       125 

"  As  I  trew  weel  she  be, 
I'll  make  it  heir  owre  a'  my  land, 

And  her  my  gay  ladie." 

"  But  if  she  be  wi'  child,"  her  father  said, 
"  As  I  trew  weel  she  be,  iao 

To-morrow  again  eight  o'clock, 
High  hanged  thou  shalt  be." 

Out  and  spoke  Johnie's  uncle  then, 

And  he  spak  bitterlie : 
"  Before  that  we  see  fair  Johnie  hanged,     isa 

We'll  a'  fight  till  we  die." 

"  But  is  there  ever  an  Italian  about  your  court, 

That  will  fight  duels  three  ? 
For  before  that  I  be  hanged,"  Johnie  said, 

"  On  the  Italian's  sword  I'll  die."  no 

"  Say  on,  say  on,"  said  then  the  king, 

"  It  is  weel  spoken  of  thee  ; 
For  there  is  an  Italian  in  my  court 

Shall  fight  you  three  by  three." 

O  some  is  to  the  good  green  wood,  145 

And  some  is  to  the  plain, 

137, 140,  143,  Taillant. 


58  JOHNIE    SCOT. 

The  queen  with  all  her  ladies  fair, 
The  king  with  his  merry  men, 

Either  to  see  fair  Johnie  flee, 

Or  else  to  see  him  slain.  iso 

They  fought  on,  and  Johnie  fought  on, 

Wi'  swords  o'  temper'd  steel, 
Until  the  draps  o'  red,  red  blood 

Ran  trinkling  down  the  field. 

They  fought  on,  and  Johnie  fought  on,         155 

They  fought  right  manfullie ; 
Till  they  left  not  alive,  in  a'  the  king's  court, 

A  man  only  but  three. 

And  they  begoud  at  eight  of  the  morn, 

And  they  fought  on  till  three ;  i<w 

When  the  Italian,  like  a  swallow  swift, 
Owre  Johnie's  head  did  flee  : 

But  Johnie  being  a  clever  young  boy, 
He  wheeled  him  round  about ; 

And  on  the  point  of  Johnie's  broad-sword,  HW 
The  Italian  he  slew  out. 

"  A  priest,  a  priest,"  fair  Johnie  cried, 
"  To  wed  my  love  and  me  ; " 

161, 166,  TaiUant. 


JOHNIE    SCOT.  59 

"  A  clerk,  a  clerk,"  her  father  cried, 

"  To  sum  her  tocher  free."  tfo 

"  I'll  hae  none  of  your  gold,"  fair  Johnie  cried, 

"  Nor  none  of  your  other  gear ; 
But  I  will  have  my  own  fair  bride, 

For  this  day  I've  won  her  dear." 

He's  ta'en  his  true  love  by  the  hand,  i« 

He  led  her  up  the  plain  : 
"  Have  you  any  more  of  your  English  dogs 

You  want  for  to  have  slain  ?  " 

He  put  a  little  horn  to  his  mouth, 

He  blew 't  baith  loud  and  shill ;  ia> 

And  honour  is  into  Scotland  gone, 

In  spite  of  England's  skill. 

He  put  his  little  horn  to  his  mouth, 

He  blew  it  owre  again  ; 
And  aye  the  sound  the  horn  cryed  isr 

Was  "  Johnie  and  his  men ! " 


BROWN  ADAM. 

Minstrelsy  of  the  Scottish  Border,  in.  159. 

"  THERE  is  a  copy  of  this  ballad  in  Mrs.  Brown's 
collection.  The  editor  has  seen  one,  printed  on  a 
single  sheet.  The  epithet,  "  Smith,"  implies,  probably, 
the  sirname,  not  the  profession,  of  the  hero,  who  seems 
to  have  been  an  outlaw.  There  is,  however,  in  Mrs. 
Brown's  copy,  a  verse  of  little  merit,  here  omitted, 
alluding  to  the  implements  of  that  occupation." 

SCOTT. 

O  WHA  wad  wish  the  wind  to  blaw, 
Or  the  green  leaves  fa'  therewith  ? 

Or  wha  wad  wish  a  lealer  love 
Than  Brown  Adam  the  Smith  ? 

But  they  hae  banished  him,  Brown  Adam,     5 

Frae  father  and  frae  mother  ; 
And  they  hae  banish'd  him,  Brown  Adam, 

Frae  sister  and  frae  brother. 

And  they  hae  banish'd  him,  Brown  Adam, 
The  flower  o'  a'  his  kin  ;  M 

And  he's  bigged  a  bour  in  gude  green-wood 
Atween  his  ladye  and  him. 


BROWN    ADAM.  61 

It  fell  upon  a  summer's  day, 

Brown  Adam  he  thought  lang  ; 
And,  for  to  hunt  some  venison,  u 

To  green-wood  he  wald  gang. 

He  has  ta'en  his  bow  his  arm  o'er, 

His  bolts  and  arrows  lang  ; 
And  he  is  to  the  gude  green-wood 

As  fast  as  he  could  gang.  ao 

O  he's  shot  up,  and  he's  shot  down, 

The  bird  upon  the  brier ; 
And  he  sent  it  name  to  his  ladye, 

Bade  her  be  of  gude  cheir. 

0  he's  shot  up,  and  he's  shot  down,  25 

The  bird  upon  the  thorn ; 
And  sent  it  hame  to  his  ladye, 

Said  he'd  be  hame  the  morn. 

When  he  cam  to  his  lady's  bour  door 

He  stude  a  little  forbye,  30 

And  there  he  heard  a  fou  fause  knight 
Tempting  his  gay  ladye. 

For  he's  ta'en  out  a  gay  goud  ring, 

Had  cost  him  many  a  poun', 
"  O  grant  me  love  for  love,  ladye,  as 

And  this  saU  be  thy  own." — 


62  BROWN    ADAM. 

"  I  lo'e  Brown  Adam  weel,"  she  said ; 

"  I  trew  sae  does  he  me  ; 
I  wadna  gie  Brown  Adam's  love 

For  nae  fause  knight  I  see." — 

Out  has  he  ta'en  a  purse  o'  gowd, 

Was  a'  fou  to  the  string, 
"  0  grant  me  love  for  love,  ladye, 

And  a*  this  sail  be  thine." — 

"  I  lo'e  Brown  Adam  weel  "  she  says ; 

"  I  wot  sae  does  he  me : 
I  wadna  be  your  light  leman, 

For  mair  than  ye  could  gie." — 

Then  out  he  drew  his  lang  bright  brand, 

And  flash'd  it  in  her  een  ; 
"  Now  grant  me  love  for  love,  ladye, 

Or  thro'  ye  this  sail  gang !  " — 
Then,  sighing,  says  that  ladye  fair, 

"  Brown  Adam  tarries  lang  ! " — 

Then  in  and  starts  him  Brown  Adam, 
Says — "  I'm  just  at  your  hand." — 

He's  gar'd  him  leave  his  bonny  bow, 
He's  gar'd  him  leave  his  brand, 

He's  gar'd  him  leave  a  dearer  pledge — 
Four  fingers  o'  his  right  hand. 


LIZIE  LINDSAY. 


COMPLETE  copies  of  this  pretty  ballad  are  given  in 
Buehan's  Ballads  of  the  North  of  Scotland,  ii.  102,  and 
in  Whitelaw's  Book  of  Scottish  Ballads,  p.  51.  The 
latter  we  have  printed  with  the  present  version,  which, 
though  lacking  a  stanza  or  two,  is  better  in  some  re 
spects  than  either  of  the  others. — Robert  Allan  has 
made  a  song  out  of  this  ballad,  Smith's  Scottish  Min 
strel,  ii.  100. 

"  Transmitted  to  the  Editor  by  Professor  SCOTT  of 
Aberdeen,  as  it  was  taken  down  from  the  recitation 
of  an  old  woman.  It  is  very  popular  in  the  north 
east  of  Scotland,  and  was  familiar  to  the  editor  in  his 
early  youth ;  and  from  the  imperfect  recollection 
which  he  still  retains  of  it,  he  has  corrected  the  text 
in  two  or  three  unimportant  passages."  JAMIESON'S 
Popular  Ballads,  ii.  149. 


**  WILL  ye  go  to  the  Highlands,  Lizie  Lindsay, 
Will  ye  go  to  the  Highlands  wi'  me  ? 

Will  ye  go  to  the  Highlands,  Lizie  Lindsay, 
And  dine  on  fresh  cruds  and  green  whey  ?  " 


64  LIZIE    LINDSAY. 

Then  out  spak  Lizie's  mother,  & 

A  good  old  lady  was  she, 
"  Gin  ye  say  sic  a  word  to  my  daughter, 

I'll  gar  ye  be  hanged  high." 

"  Keep  weel  your  daughter  frae  me,  madam  ; 

Keep  weel  your  daughter  frae  me  ;  10 

I  care  as  little  for  your  daughter, 

As  ye  can  care  for  me." 

Then  out  spak  Lizie's  ain  maiden, 

A  bonny  young  lassie  was  she  ; 
Says, — "  were  I  the  heir  to  a  kingdom,  i« 

Awa'  wi'  young  Donald  I'd  be." 

"  O  say  you  sae  to  me,  Nelly  ? 

And  does  my  Nelly  say  sae  ? 
Maun  I  leave  my  father  and  mother, 

Awa'  wi'  young  Donald  to  gae  ?  "  20 

And  Lizie's  ta'en  till  her  her  stockings, 
And  Lizie's  ta'en  till  her  her  shoen ; 

And  kilted  up  her  green  claithing, 

And  awa'  wi'  young  Donald  she's  gane. 

The  road  it  was  lang  and  weary ;  as 

The  braes  they  were  ill  to  climb ; 

Bonny  Lizie  was  weary  wi'  travelling, 
And  a  fit  furder  coudna  win. 


LIZIE    LINDSAY.  65 

And  sair,  O  sair  did  she  sigh, 

And  the  saut  tear  blin'd  her  e'e ;  as 

"  Gin  this  be  the  pleasures  o'  looing, 

They  never  will  do  wi'  me ! " 

"  Now,  haud  your  tongue,  bonny  Lizie  ; 

Ye  never  shall  rue  for  me ; 
Gi'e  me  but  your  love  for  my  love,  35 

It  is  a'  that  your  tocher  will  be. 


"  And  haud  your  tongue,  bonny  Lizie  ; 

Altho'  that  the  gait  seem  lang, 
And  you's  ha'e  the  wale  o'  good  living 

Whan  to  Kincawsen  we  gang.  40 

"  There  my  father  he  is  an  auld  cobler, 

My  mother  she  is  an  auld  dey ; 
And  we'll  sleep  on  a  bed  o'  green  rashes, 

And  dine  on  fresh  cruds  and  green  whey." 

"You're  welcome  hame,  Sir  Donald,  45 

You're  welcome  hame  to  me." 


"  O  ca'  me  nae  mair  Sir  Donald ; 

There's  a  bonny  young  lady  to  come ; 
Sae  ca'  me  nae  mair  Sir  Donald, 

But  ae  spring  Donald  your  son."  so 

VOL.  iv.  5 


66  LIZIE    LINDSAY. 

"  Ye're  welcome  hame,  young  Donald ; 

Ye're  welcome  hame  to  me ; 
Ye're  welcome  hame,  young  Donald, 

And  your  bonny  young  lady  wi'  ye." 

She's  made  them  a  bed  of  green  rashes, 
Weel  cover'd  wi'  hooding  o'  grey ; 

Bonny  Lizie  was  weary  wi'  travelling, 
And  lay  till  'twas  lang  o'  the  day. 

"  The  sun  looks  in  o'er  the  hill-head, 
And  the  laverock  is  liltin'  gay  ; 

Get  up,  get  up,  bonny  Lizie, 

You've  lain  till  its  lang  o'  the  day. 

"  You  might  ha'e  been  out  at  the  shealin, 

Instead  o'  sae  lang  to  lye, 
And  up  and  helping  my  mother 

To  milk  baith  her  gaits  and  kye." 

Then  out  spak  Lizie  Lindsay, 

The  tear  blindit  her  eye  ; 
"  The  ladies  o'  Edinburgh  city 

They  neither  milk  gaits  nor  kye." 

Then  up  spak  young  Sir  Donald, 

****** 

****** 
****** 


LIZIE    LINDSAY.  67 


"  For  I  am  the  laird  o'  Kincawsyn, 

And  you  are  the  lady  free  ; 

***** 

*          *          #         *          * 


LIZZIE  LINDSAY. 


"  THIS  version  of  Lizzie  Lindsay  is  given  from  the 
recitation  of  a  lady  in  Glasgow,  and  is  a  faithful  tran 
script  of  the  ballad  as  it  used  to  be  sung  in  the  West 
of  Scotland."  WHITELAW'S  Book  of  Scottish  Ballads, 
p.  51. — A  very  good  copy,  from  Mr.  Kinloch's  MS.,  is 
printed  in  Aytoun's  Ballads  of  Scotland,  i.  269,  (Don 
ald  of  the  Isles,) 

THERE  was  a  braw  ball  in  Edinburgh 
And  mony  braw  ladies  were  there, 

But  nae  ane  at  a'  the  assembly 

Could  wi'  Lizzie  Lindsay  compare. 

In  cam*  the  young  laird  o'  Kincassie,  • 

An'  a  bonnie  young  laddie  was  he — 

"  Will  ye  lea'  yere  ain  kintra,  Lizzie, 
An'  gang  to  the  Hielands  wi'  me  ?  " 

She  turned  her  roun'  on  her  heel, 

An'  a  very  loud  laughter  gaed  she —  10 

"  I  wad  like  to  ken  whar  I  was  ganging, 

And  wha  I  was  gaun  to  gang  wi'." 


LIZZIE   LINDSAY.  69 

"  My  name  is  young  Donald  M'Donald, 

My  name  I  will  never  deny  ; 
My  father  he  is  an  auld  shepherd,  u 

Sae  weel  as  he  can  herd  the  kye ! 

"  My  father  he  is  an  auld  shepherd, 

My  mother  she  is  an  auld  dame  ; 
If  ye'll  gang  to  the  Hielands,  bonnie  Lizzie, 

Ye's  neither  want  curds  nor  cream."  20 

"  If  ye'll  call  at  the  Canongate  port, 
At  the  Canongate  port  call  on  me, 

I'll  give  you  a  bottle  o'  sherry, 
And  bear  you  companie." 

He  ca'd  at  the  Canongate  port,  as 

At  the  Canongate  port  called  he  ; 

She  drank  wi'  him  a  bottle  o'  sherry, 
And  bore  him  guid  companie. 

"  Will  ye  go  to  the  Hielands,  bonnie  Lizzie, 
Will  ye  go  to  the-  Hielands  wi'  me  ?  so 

If  ye'll  go  to  the  Hielands,  bonnie  Lizzie, 
Ye  shall  not  want  curds  nor  green  whey." 

In  there  cam'  her  auld  mither, 

A  jolly  auld  lady  was  she — 
"  I  wad  like  to  ken  whar  she  was  ganging,       a? 

And  wha  she  was  gaun  to  gang  wi'." 


70  LIZZIE    LINDSAY. 

"  My  name  is  young  Donald  M'Donald, 

My  name  I  will  never  deny, 
My  father  he  is  an  auld  shepherd, 

Sae  weel  as  he  can  herd  the  kye !  <o 

"  O  but  I  would  give  you  ten  guineas, 
To  have  her  one  hour  in  a  room, 

To  get  her  fair  body  a  picture 
To  keep  me  from  thinking  long." 

"  O  I  value  not  your  ten  guineas,  « 

As  little  as  you  value  mine  ; 
But  if  that  you  covet  my  daughter, 

Take  her  with  you,  if  you  do  incline." 

"  Pack  up  my  silks  and  my  satins, 

And  pack  up  my  hose  and  my  shoon,  so 

And  likewise  my  clothes  in  small  bundles, 

And  away  wi'  young  Donald  I'll  gang." 

They  pack'd  up  her  silks  and  her  satins, 
They  pack'd  up  her  hose  and  her  shoon, 

And  likewise  her  clothes  in  small  bundles,       a 
And  away  with  young  Donald  she's  gane. 

When  that  they  cam'  to  the  Hielands, 
The  braes  they  were  baith  lang  and  stey ; 

Bonnie  Lizzie  was  wearied  wi'  ganging — 
She  had  travell'd  a  lang  summer  day.          GO 


LIZZIE    LINDSAY.  71 

"  0  are  we  near  hame,  Sir  Donald, 

O  are  we  near  hame,  I  pray  ?  " 
"  We're  no  near  haine,  bonnie  Lizzie, 

Nor  yet  the  half  o'  the  way." 

They  cam'  to  a  homely  poor  cottage,  es 

An  auld  man  was  standing  by  ; 
"  Ye're  welcome  hame,  Sir  Donald, 

Ye've  been  sae  lang  away." 

"  O  call  me  no  more  Sir  Donald, 

But  call  me  young  Donald  your  son ;  TO 

For  I  have  a  bonnie  young  lady 

Behind  me  for  to  come  in." 

"  Come  in,  come  in,  bonnie  Lizzie, 

Come  in,  come  in,"  said  he, 
"  Although  that  our  cottage  be  little,  « 

Perhaps  the  better  we'll  'gree. 

"  O  make  us  a  supper,  dear  mother, 
And  make  it  of  curds  an'  green  whey ; 

And  make  us  a  bed  o'  green  rushes, 

And  cover  it  o'er  wi'  green  hay."  so 

"  Rise  up,  rise  up,  bonnie  Lizzie, 

Why  lie  ye  so  long  in  the  day ; 
Ye  might  ha'e  been  helping  my  mother 

To  make  the  curds  and  green  whey." 


72  LIZZIE    LINDSAY. 

"  0  baud  your  tongue,  Sir  Donald, 

0  baud  your  tongue  I  pray  ; 

I  wish  I  had  ne'er  left  my  mother, 

1  can  neither  make  curds  nor  whey." 

"  Rise  up,  rise  up,  bonnie  Lizzie, 
And  put  on  your  satins  so  fine ; 

For  we  maun  to  be  at  Kincassie 
Before  that  the  clock  strikes  nine." 

But  when  they  came  to  Kincassie 
The  porter  was  standing  by ; — 

"  Ye're  welcome  home,  Sir  Donald, 
Ye've  been  so  long  away." 

It's  down  then  came  his  auld  mither, 
With  all  the  keys  in  her  hand, 

Saying,  "  Take  you  these,  bonnie  Lizzie, 
All  under  them's  at  your  command." 


LIZAE  BAILLIE. 

FROM  Herd's  Scottish  Songs,  ii.  50.  A  longer  ver 
sion,  from  Buchan's  larger  collection,  is  in  the  Ap 
pendix.  Mr.  Chambers,  assuming  that  the  foregoing 
ballad  of  Lizie  Lindsay  was  originally  the  same  as 
Lizie  Baillie,  has  made  out  of  various  copies  of  both 
one  story  in  two  parts  :  The  Scottish  Ballads,  p.  158. 
Smith  has  somewhat  altered  the  language  of  this  bal 
lad  :  Scottish  Minstrel,  iv.  90. 

LIZAE  BAILLIE'S  to  Gartartan  gane, 

To  see  her  sister  Jean  ; 
And  there  she's  met  wi'  Duncan  Graeme, 

And  he's  convoy'd  her  hame. 

"  My  bonny  Lizae  Baillie,  s 

I'll  row  ye  in  my  plaidie, 
And  ye  maun  gang  alang  wi'  me. 

And  be  a  Highland  lady." 

"  I'm  sure  they  wadna  ca'  me  wise, 

Gin  I  wad  gang  wi'  you,  Sir ;  10 

For  I  can  neither  card  nor  spin, 
Nor  yet  milk  ewe  or  cow,  Sir." 


74  LIZAE    BAILLIE. 

"  My  bonny  Lizae  Baillie, 

Let  nane  o'  these  things  daunt  ye  ; 

Ye'll  hae  nae  need  to  card  or  spin, 
Your  mither  weel  can  want  ye." 

Now  she's  cast  aff  her  bonny  shoen, 

Made  o'  the  gilded  leather, 
And  she's  put  on  her  highland  brogues, 

To  skip  amang  the  heather  : 

And  she's  cast  aff  her  bonny  gown, 

Made  o'  the  silk  and  sattin, 
And  she's  put  on  a  tartan  plaid, 

To  row  amang  the  braken. 

She  wadna  hae  a  Lawland  laird, 

Nor  be  an  English  lady  ; 
But  she  wad  gang  wi'  Duncan  Graeme, 

And  row  her  in  his  plaidie. 

She  was  nae  ten  miles  frae  the  town, 

When  she  began  to  weary  ; 
She  aften  looked  back,  and  said, 

"  Farewell  to  Castlecarry. 

"  The  first  place  I  saw  my  Duncan  Graeme, 

Was  near  yon  holland  bush  ; 
My  father  took  frae  me  my  rings, 

My  rings  but  and  my  purse. 


LIZAE    BAILLIE.  75 

"  But  I  wadna  gie  mj  Duncan  Graeme 

For  a'  my  father's  land, 
Though  it  were  ten  times  ten  times  mair, 

And  a'  at  my  command."  40 


Now  wae  be  to  you,  loggerheads, 
That  dwell  near  Castlecarry, 

To  let  awa'  sic  a  bonny  lass, 
A  Highlandman  to  marry. 


GLASGOW  PEGGY. 

FROM  recitation,  in  Kinloch's  Ancient  Scottish  Bal 
lads,  p.  1 74.  Other  copies  are  printed  in  Buchan's 
Ballads  of  the  North  of  Scotland,  ii.  155,  (Donald  of 
the  Isles,)  Sharpe's  Ballad  Book,  p.  40,  (and  Cham- 
bers's  Popular  Rhymes,  p.  27,)  Smith's  Scottish  Min 
strel,  iv.  78. 

The  Lawland  lads  think  they  are  fine, 

But  the  hieland  lads  are  brisk  and  gaucy ; 

And  they  are  awa  near  Glasgow  toun, 
To  steal  awa  a  bonnie  lassie. 

"  I  wad  gie  my  gude  brown  steed,  « 

And  sae  wad  I  my  gude  grey  naigie, 

That  I  war  fifty  miles  frae  the  toun, 

And  nane  wi'  me  but  my  bonnie  Peggy." 

But  up  then  spak  the  auld  gudman, 

And  vow  but  he  spak  wondrous  saucie ; —    10 

"  Ye  may  steal  awa  our  cows  and  ewes, 
But  ye  sanna  get  our  bonnie  lassie." 


GLASGOW  PEGGT.  77 

"  I  have  got  cows  and  ewes  anew, 

I've  got  gowd  and  gear  already  ; 
Sae  I  dinna  want  your  cows  nor  ewes,  is 

But  I  will  hae  your  bonnie  Peggy." 

"  I'll  follow  you  oure  moss  and  muir, 
I'll  follow  you  oure  mountains  many, 

I'll  follow  you  through  frost  and  snaw, 

I'll  stay  na  langer  wi'  my  daddie."  20 

He  set  her  on  a  gude  brown  steed, 
Himself  upon  a  gude  grey  naigie  ; 

They're  oure  hills,  and  oure  dales, 
And  he's  awa  wi'  his  bonnie  Peggy. 

As  they  rade  out  by  Glasgow  toun,  ac 

And  doun  by  the  hills  o'  Achildounie, 

There  they  met  the  Earl  of  Hume, 
And  his  auld  son,  riding  bonnie. 

Out  bespak  the  Earl  of  Hume, 

And  0  but  he  spak  wondrous  sorry, —         so 
"  The  bonniest  lass  about  a'  Glasgow  toun, 

This  day  is  awa  wi'  a  hieland  laddie." 

As  they  rade  bye  auld  Drymen  toun, 
The  lassies  leuch  and  lookit  saucy, 

That  the  bonniest  lass  they  ever  saw, 
Sud  be  riding  awa  wi'  a  hieland  laddie. 


78  GLASGOW   PEGGY. 

They  rode  on  through  moss  and  inuir, 
And  so  did  they  owre  mountains  many, 

Until  they  cam  to  yonder  glen, 

And  she's  lain  doun  wi'  her  hieland  laddie.  *> 

Gude  green  hay  was  Peggy's  bed, 

And  brakens  war  her  blankets  bonnie  ; 

Wi'  his  tartan  plaid  aneath  her  head, 

And  she's  lain  doun  wi'  her  hieland  laddie. 

"There's  beds   and   bowsters   in   my   father's 

house,  <5 

There's  sheets  and  blankets,  and  a'   thing 

ready, 
And  wadna  they  be  angry  wi'  me, 

To  see  me  lie  sae  wi'  a  hieland  laddie." 

"  Tho'  there's  beds  and  beddin  in  your  father's 
house, 

Sheets  and  blankets  and  a'  made  ready,  so 
Yet  why  sud  they  be  angry  wi'  thee, 

Though  I  be  but  a  hieland  laddie  ? 

"  It's  I  hae  fifty  acres  of  land, 

It's  a'  plow'd  and  sawn  already ; 
I  am  Donald  the  Lord  of  Skye,  « 

And  why  sud  na  Peggy  be  call'd  a  lady  ? 

"  I  hae  fifty  gude  milk  kye, 

A'  tied  to  the  staws  already ; 
I  am  Donald  the  Lord  of  Skye, 

And  why  sud  na  Peggy  be  call'd  a  lady  !    ® 


GLASGOW   PEGGY.  79 

"  See  ye  no  a'  yon  castles  and  tow'rs  ? 

The  sun  sheens  owre  them  a  sae  bonnie ; 
I  am  Donald  the  Lord  of  Skye, 

I  think  I'll  mak  ye  as  blythe  as  onie. 

"A'  that  Peggy  left  behind  ca 

Was  a  cot-house  and  a  wee  kail-yardie ; 

Now  I  think  she  is  better  by  far, 

Than  tho'  she  had  got  a  lawland  lairdie." 


GLENLOGIE. 

FIRST  published  in  the  fourth  volume  of  Smith's 
Scottish  Minstrel.  Great  liberties,  says  Motherwell, 
have  been  taken  with  the  songs  in  that  work.  Other 
versions  are  given  in  Sharpe's  Ballad  Book,  and  in 
Buchan's  larger  collection,  i.  188,  (Jean  o'  Bethelnie's 
Love  for  Sir  G.  Gordon.) 

Three  score  o'  nobles  rade  up  the  king's  ha', 
But  bonnie  Glenlogie's  the  flower  o'  them  a'; 
Wi'  his  milk-white  steed  and  his  bonnie  black 

e'e, 
"  Glenlogie,  dear  mither,  Glenlogie  for  me  !  " 

"  O  haud  your  tongue,  dochter,  ye'll  get  better 
than  he  ; "  « 

"  O  say  nae  sae,  mither,  for  that  canna  be  ; 
Though  Drumlie  is  richer,  and  greater  than  he, 
Yet  if  I  maun  tak  him,  I'll  certainly  dee. 


GLENLOGIE.  81 

"  Where  will  I  get  a  bonnie  boy,  to  win  hose 

and  shoon, 

Will  gae  to  Glenlogie,  and  cum  again  shun  ?  "  10 
"  O  here  am  I,  a  bonnie  boy,  to  win  hose  and 

shoon, 
Will  gae  to  Glenlogie,  and  cum  again  shun." 

When  he  gaed  to  Glenlogie,  'twas  "  wash  and 

go  dine ; " 
'Twas  "  wash  ye,  my  pretty  boy,  wash  and  go 

dine;" 
"  O  'twas  ne'er  my  father's  fashion,  and  it  ne'er 

shall  be  mine,  15 

To  gar  a  lady's  hasty  errand  wait  till  I  dine. 

"  But  there  is,  Glenlogie,  a  letter  for  thee ; " 
The  first  line  that  he  read,  a  low  smile  ga'e  he, 
The  next  line  that  he  read,  the  tear  blindit  his  e'e ; 
But  the  last  line  that  he  read,  he  gart  the  table 
flee.  20 

"  Gar  saddle  the  black  horse,  gar  saddle  the 

brown ; 
Gar  saddle  the  swiftest  steed  e'er  rade  frae  a 

town;" 
But  lang  ere  the  horse  was  drawn  and  brought 

to  the  green, 
O  bonnie  Glenlogie  was  twa  mile  his  lane. 

10,  12,  shun  again. 
VOL.   IV.  6 


82  GLENLOGIE. 

When  he  cam'  to  Glenfeldy's  door,  little  mirth 
was  there  ;  25 

Bonnie  Jean's  mother  was  tearing  her  hair  ; 

"Ye're  welcome,  Glenlogie,  ye're  welcome," 
said  she, 

"  Ye're  welcome,  Glenlogie,  your  Jeanie  to  see." 

Pale  and  wan  was  she,  when  Glenlogie  gaed 

ben, 
But  red  and  rosy  grew  she  whene'er  he   sat 

down ;  so 

She  turned  awa'  her  head,  but  the  smile  was 

in  her  e'e, 
"  0  binna  feared,  mither,  I'll  maybe  no  dee." 


JOHN  O'  HAZELGREEN. 

NEITHER  the  present  version  of  this  ballad,  (taken 
from  Buchan's  Ballads  of  the  North  of  Scotland,  ii. 
253,)  nor  that  furnished  by  Kinloch,  (Jock  o'  Hazel- 
green,  p.  206,)  is  at  all  satisfactory.  Another,  much 
superior  in  point  of  taste,  but  made  up  from  four  dif 
ferent  copies,  is  given  in  Chambers's  Scottish  Ballads, 
p.  319. 

Sir  W.  Scott's  song  of  Jock  o'  Hazeldean  was  sug 
gested  by  a  single  stanza  of  this  ballad,  which  he  had 
heard  as  a  fragment,  thus : 

"  '  Why  weep  ye  by  the  tide  ladye, 

Why  weep  ye  by  the  tide  ? 
I'll  wed  ye  to  my  youngest  son, 

And  ye  shall  be  his  bride; 
And  ye  shall  be  his  bride,  ladye, 

Sae  comely  to  be  seen : ' 
But  aye  she  loot  the  tears  down  fa' 

For  Jock  o'  Hazeldean." 

As  I  went  forth  to  take  the  air 

Intill  an  evening  clear, 
And  there  I  spied  a  lady  fair 

Making  a  heavy  bier. 
Making  a  heavy  bier,  I  say,  « 

But  and  a  piteous  meen  ; 
And  aye  she  sigh'd,  and  said,  alas  ! 

For  John  o'  Hazelgreen. 


84  JOHN    O*    HAZEL  GREEN. 

The  sun  was  sinking  in  the  west, 

The  stars  were  shining  clear ;  w 

When  thro'  the  thickets  o'  the  wood, 

A  gentleman  did  appear. 
Says,  "  who  has  done  you  the  wrong,  fair  maid, 

And  left  you  here  alane ; 
Or  who  has  kiss'd  your  lovely  lips,  w 

That  ye  ca'  Hazelgreen  ?" 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  kind  sir,"  she  said, 

"  And  do  not  banter  so  ; 
How  will  ye  add  affliction 

Unto  a  lover's  woe  ?  20 

For  none's  done  me  the  wrong,"  she  said, 

"  Nor  left  me  here  alane  ; 
Nor  none  has  kiss'd  my  lovely  lips, 

That  I  ca'  Hazelgreen." 

"  Why  weep  ye  by  the  tide,  lady  ?  25 

Why  weep  ye  by  the  tide  ? 
How  blythe  and  happy  might  he  be 

Gets  you  to  be  his  bride  ! 
Gets  you  to  be  his  bride,  fair  maid, 

And  him  I'll  no  bemean  ;  * 

But  when  I  take  my  words  again, 

Whom  call  ye  Hazelgreen  ? 

"  What  like  a  man  was  Hazelgreen  ? 

Will  ye  show  him  to  me  ?  " 
"  He  is  a  comely  proper  youth,  & 

I  in  my  sleep  did  see  ; 


85 


Wi*  arms  tall,  and  fingers  small, — 
He's  comely  to  be  seen ; " 

And  aye  she  loot  the  tears  down  fall 
For  John  o'  Hazelgreen. 

"  If  ye'll  forsake  young  Hazelgreen, 

And  go  along  with  me, 
I'll  wed  you  to  my  eldest  son, 

Make  you  a  lady  free." 
"  It's  for  to  wed  your  eldest  son 

I  am  a  maid  o'er  mean  ; 
Fll  rather  stay  at  home,"  she  says, 

"  And  die  for  Hazelgreen." 

"  If  ye'll  forsake  young  Hazelgreen, 

And  go  along  with  me, 
I'll  wed  you  to  my  second  son, 

And  your  weight  o'  gowd  I'll  gie." 
"  It's  for  to  wed  your  second  son 

I  am  a  maid  o'er  mean  ; 
I'll  rather  stay  at  home,"  she  says, 

"  And  die  for  Hazelgreen." 

Then  he's  taen  out  a  siller  comb, 

Comb'd  down  her  yellow  hair  ; 
And  looked  in  a  diamond  bright, 

To  see  if  she  were  fair. 
"  My  girl,  ye  do  all  maids  surpass 

That  ever  I  have  seen  ; 
Cheer  up  your  heart,  my  lovely  lass, 

And  hate  young  Hazelgreen." 


86  JOHN    O'   HAZEL  GREEN. 

"  Young  Hazelgreen  he  is  my  love,  es 

And  ever  mair  shall  be ; 
I'll  nae  forsake  young  Hazelgreen 

For  a'  the  gowd  ye'll  gie." 
But  aye  she  sigh'd,  and  said,  alas ! 

And  made  a  piteous  meen  ;  ro 

And  aye  she  loot  the  tears  down  fa', 

For  John  o'  Hazelgreen. 

He  looked  high,  and  lighted  low, 

Set  her  upon  his  horse ; 
And  they  rode  on  to  Edinburgh,  ?« 

To  Edinburgh's  own  cross. 
And  when  she  in  that  city  was, 

She  look'd  like  ony  queen ; 
*'  'Tis  a  pity  such  a  lovely  lass 

Shou'd  love  young  Hazelgreen."  w 

"  Young  Hazelgreen,  he  is  my  love. 

And  ever  mair  shall  be ; 
I'll  nae  forsake  young  Hazelgreen 

For  a'  the  gowd  ye'll  gie." 
And  aye  she  sigh'd,  and  said,  alas !  & 

And  made  a  piteous  meen  ; 
And  aye  she  loot  the  tears  down  fa', 

For  John  o'  Hazelgreen. 

"  Now  hold  your  tongue,  my  well-far'd  maid, 

Lat  a'  your  mourning  be,  «> 

And  a'  endeavours  I  shall  try, 


JOHN    O'   HAZELGREEN.  87 

To  bring  that  youth  to  thee  ; 
If  ye'll  tell  me  where  your  love  stays, 

His  stile  and  proper  name." 
"  He's  laird  o'  Taperbank,"  she  says,  95 

"  His  stile,  Young  Hazelgreen." 

Then  he  has  coft  for  that  lady 

A  fine  silk  riding  gown ; 
Likewise  he  coft  for  that  lady 

A  steed,  and  set  her  on  ;  100 

Wi'  menji  feathers  in  her  hat, 

Silk  stockings  and  siller  sheen ; 
And  they  are  on  to  Taperbank, 

Seeking  young  Hazelgreen. 

They  nimbly  rode  along  the  way,  KB 

And  gently  spurr'd  their  horse, 
Till  they  rode  on  to  Hazelgreen, 

To  Hazelgreen's  own  close. 
Then  forth  he  came,  young  Hazelgreen, 

To  welcome  his  father  free ;  110 

"  You're  welcome  here,  my  father  dear, 

And  a'  your  companie." 

But  when  he  look'd  o'er  his  shoulder, 

A  light  laugh  then  gae  he ; 
Says,  "  If  I  getna  this  lady,  w 

It's  for  her  I  must  die  ; 
I  must  confess  this  is  the  maid 

I  ance  saw  in  a  dream, 


88  JOHN    O'   HAZELGREEN. 

A  walking  thro'  a  pleasant  shade, 

As  fair's  a  cypress  queen."  120 

"  Now  hold  your  tongue,  young  Hazelgreen, 

Lat  a'  your  folly  be  ; 
If  ye  be  wae  for  that  lady, 

She's  thrice  as  wae  for  thee. 
She's  thrice  as  wae  for  thee,  my  son ;  125 

As  bitter  doth  complain  ; 
Well  is  she  worthy  o'  the  rigs 

That  lie  on  Hazelgreen." 

He's  taen  her  in  his  arms  twa, 

Led  her  thro'  bower  and  ha' ;  iso 

"  Cheer  up  your  heart,  my  dearest  dear, 

Ye're  flower  out  o'er  them  a'. 
This  night  shall  be  our  wedding  e'en, 

The  morn  we'll  say,  Amen  ; 
Ye'se  never  mair  hae  cause  to  mourn, —         135 

Ye're  lady  o'  Hazelgreen." 


THE  FAUSE  LOVER. 

FROM  Buchan's  Ballads  of  the  North  of  Scotland, 
i.  268.  The  fourth  and  fifth  stanzas  are  found  as  a 
fragment  in  Herd's  Scottish  Songs,  ii.  6,  (ed.  1776,) 
thus : 

"  False  luve,  and  hae  ze  played  me  this, 

In  the  simmer,  mid  the  flowers  ? 
I  sail  repay  ze  back  again, 

In  the  winter  mid  the  showers. 

"  Bot  again,  dear  luve,  and  again,  dear  luve, 

Will  ze  not  turn  again  ? 
As  ze  look  to  ither  women 

Shall  I  to  ither  men." 

Sir  Walter  Scott,  also,  as  Chambers  has  pointed 
out,  has,  in  Waverley,  put  two  similar  stanzas  into  the 
mouth  of  Davie  Gellatley. 

"  False  love,  and  hast  thou  played  me  this, 

In  summer,  among  the  flowers  ? 
I  will  repay  thee  back  again, 

In  winter,  amid  the  showers. 

"  Unless  again,  again,  my  love, 

Unless  ye  turn  again, 
As  you  with  other  maidens  rove, 

I'll  smile  on  other  men." 


90  THE    FAUSE    LOVER. 

A  FAIR  maid  sat  in  her  bower  door, 

Wringing  her  lily  hands  ; 
And  by  it  came  a  sprightly  youth, 

Fast  tripping  o'er  the  strands. 

"  Where  gang  ye,  young  John,"  she  says, 

"  Sae  early  in  the  day  ? 
It  gars  me  think,  by  your  fast  trip, 

Your  journey's  far  away." 

He  turn'd  about  wi'  surly  look, 
And  said,  "  What's  that  to  thee  ? 

I'm  gaen  to  see  a  lovely  maid, 
Mair  fairer  far  than  ye." 

"  Now  hae  ye  play'd  me  this,  fause  love, 

In  simmer,  mid  the  flowers  ? 
I  sail  repay  ye  back  again, 

In  winter,  'mid  the  showers. 

"  But  again,  dear  love,  and  again,  dear  love, 

Will  ye  not  turn  again  ? 
For  as  ye  look  to  ither  women, 

Shall  I  to  ither  men." 

"  Make  your  choose  o'  whom  you  please, 

For  I  my  choice  will  have ; 
I've  chosen  a  maid  mair  fair  than  thee, 

I  never  will  deceive." 


THE    FAUSE    LOVER.  91 

But  she's  kilt  up  her  claithing  fine,  M 

And  after  him  gaed  she ; 
But  aye  he  said,  "  ye'll  turn  back, 

Nae  farder  gang  wi'  me." 

"  But  again,  dear  love,  and  again,  dear  love, 
Will  ye  never  love  me  again  ?  so 

Alas !  for  loving  you  sae  well, 
And  you  nae  me  again." 

The  first  an'  town  that  they  came  till, 
He  bought  her  brooch  and  ring ; 

But  aye  he  bade  her  turn  again,  as 

And  gang  nae  farder  wi'  him. 

"  But  again,  dear  love,  and  again,  dear  love, 

Will  ye  never  love  me  again  ? 
Alas !  for  loving  you  sae  well, 

And  you  nae  me  again."  40 

The  niest  an'  town  that  they  came  till, 

His  heart  it  grew  mair  fain ; 
And  he  was  deep  in  love  wi'  her, 

As  she  was  ower  again. 

The  niest  an'  town  that  they  came  till,          « 

He  bought  her  wedding  gown  ; 
And  made  her  lady  o'  ha's  and  bowers, 

In  bonny  Berwick  town. 


THE  GARDENER. 

FROM  Kinloch's  Ancient  Scottish  Ballads,  p.  74. 
The  last  stanza  but  one  is  found  in  the  preceding 
ballad.  Another  copy  is  given  by  Buchan,  Ballads 
of  the  North  of  Scotland,  ii.  187. 

THE  gard'ner  stands  in  his  bouer  door, 

Wi'  a  primrose  in  his  hand, 
And  bye  there  cam  a  leal  maiden, 

As  jimp  as  a  willow  wand  ; 
And  bye  there  cam  a  leal  maiden, 

As  jimp  as  a  willow  wand. 

"  O  ladie  can  ye  fancy  me,  •' 

For  to  be  my  bride ; 
Ye'se  get  a'  the  flowers  in  my  garden, 

To  be  to  you  a  weed. 

"  The  lily  white  sail  be  your  smock  ; 

It  becomes  your  body  best ;  10 

Your  head  sail  be  buskt  wi'  gelly-flower, 

Wi'  the  primrose  in  your  breist. 


THE    GARDENER.  93 

"•  Your  goun  sail  be  the  Sweet  William ; 

Your  coat  the  camovine  ; 
Your  apron  o'  the  sallads  neat,  is 

That  taste  baith  sweet  and  fine. 

"  Your  hose  sail  be  the  brade  kail-blade, 

That  is  baith  brade  and  lang ; 
Narrow,  narrow,  at  the  cute, 

And  brade,  brade  at  the  brawn.  so 

"  Your  gloves  sail  be  the  marigold, 

All  glittering  to  your  hand, 
Weel  spread  owre  wi'  the  blue  blaewort, 

That  grows  amang  corn-land." 

"  0  fare  ye  weil,  young  man,"  she  says,       as 

"  Fareweil,  and  I  bid  adieu  ; 
Sin  ye've  provided  a  weed  for  me 

Amang  the  simmer  flowers, 
It's  I'se  provide  anither  for  you, 

Amang  the  winter-showers  :  so 

"  The  new  fawn  snaw  to  be  your  smock  ; 

It  becomes  your  bodie  best ; 
Your  head  sail  be  wrapt  wi'  the  eastern  wind, 

And  the  cauld  rain  on  your  breist. 


THE  DUKE  OF  ATHOL. 

"  TAKEN  down  from  the  recitation  of  an  idiot  boy 
in  Wishaw."  Kinloch's  Ancient  Scottish  Ballads,  p. 
170. 

"  I  AM  gaing  awa,  Jeanie, 
I  am  gaing  awa, 
I  am  gaing  ayont  the  saut  seas, 
I'm  gaing  sae  far  awa." 

"  What  will  ye  buy  to  me,  Jamie,  & 

What  will  ye  buy  to  me  ?  " 
"  I'll  buy  to  you  a  silken  plaid, 
And  send  it  wi'  vanitie." 

"  That's  na  love  at  a',  Jamie, 

That's  na  love  at  a' ;  10 

All  I  want  is  love  for  love, 

And  that's  the  best  ava. 

"  Whan  will  ye  marry  me,  Jamie, 
Whari  will  ye  marry  me  ? 
Will  ye  tak  me  to  your  countrie, —  is 

Or  will  ye  marry  me  ?  " 


THE    DUKE    OF    ATHOL.  95 

"  How  can  I  marry  thee,  Jeanie, 

How  can  I  marry  thee  ? 

Whan  I've  a  wife  and  bairns  three, — 

Twa  wad  na  weill  agree."  an 

"  Wae  be  to  your  fa  use  tongue,  Jamie, 
Wae  be  to  your  fause  tongue ; 
Ye  promised  for  to  marry  me, 
And  has  a  wife  at  hame ! 

"  But  if  your  wife  wad  dee,  Jamie,  as 

And  sae  your  bairns  three, 

Wad  ye  tak  me  to  your  countrie, — 

Or  wad  ye  marry  me  ? 

"  But  sin  they're  all  alive,  Jamie, 

But  sin  they're  all  alive,  30 

We'll  tak  a  glass  in  ilka  hand, 

And  drink,  '  Weill  may  they  thrive."' 

"  If  my  wife  wad  dee,  Jeanie, 

And  sae  my  bairns  three, 

I  wad  tak  ye  to  my  ain  countrie,  « 

And  married  we  wad  be." 

"  O  an  your  head  war  sair,  Jamie, 

O  an  your  head  war  sair, 

I'd  tak  the  napkin  frae  my  neck, 

And  tie  doun  your  yellow  hair."  40 


96  THE    DUKE    OF    ATHOL. 

"  I  hae  na  wife  at  a',  Jeanie, 

I  hae  na  wife  at  a', 

I  hae  neither  wife  nor  bairns  three ; 

I  said  it  to  try  thee." 

"  Licht  are  ye  to  loup,  Jamie,  « 

Licht  are  ye  to  loup, 

Licht  are  ye  to  loup  the  dyke, 

Whan  I  maun  wale  a  slap." 

"  Licht  am  I  to  loup,  Jeanie, 
Licht  am  I  to  loup  ;  so 

But  the  hiest  dyke  that  we  come  to, 
I'll  turn  and  tak  you  up. 

"  Blair  in  Athol  is  mine,  Jeanie, 

Blair  in  Athol  is  mine  ; 

Bonnie  Dunkel  is  whare  I  dwell,  M 

And  the  boats  o'  Garry's  mine. 

"  Huntingtower  is  mine,  Jeanie, 
Huntingtower  is  mine, 
Huntingtower,  and  bonnie  Belford, 
And  a'  Balquhither's  mine."  «> 


THE  RANTIN'  LADDIE. 

Ax  imperfect  copy  of  this  ballad  was  printed  in 
Johnson's  Museum,  (p.  474,)  contributed,  Mr.  St€n- 
house  informs  us,  by  Burns.  The  present  copy  is  from 
the  Thistle  of  Scotland,  p.  7.  Another,  shorter  than 
either,  is  given  in  Buchan's  Ballads  of  the  North  of 
Scotland,  ii.  66,  Lord  Aboyne.  (Also  in  Smith's  Scottish 
Minstrel,  iv.  6.) 

"  AFT  hae  I  playd  at  cards  and  dice 
For  the  love  o'  a  bonny  rantin'  laddie, 

But  now  I  maun  sit  i'  my  father's  kitchen  nook, 
And  sing,  *  Hush,  balow,  my  baby.' 

"  If  I  had  been  wise,  and  had  ta'en  advice,      5 
And  dane  as  my  bonny  love  bade  me, 

I  would  hae  been  married  at  Martinmas, 
Ajid  been  wi'  my  rantin'  laddie. 

"  But  I  was  na  wise,  I  took  nae  advice, 

Did  not  as  my  bonny  love  bade  me,  10 

And  now  I  maun  sit  by  mysel'  i'  the  nook, 
And  rock  my  bastard  baby. 

VOL.   IV.  7 


98  THE  RANTIN'  LADDIE. 

"  If  I  had  horse  at  my  command, 

As  often  I  had  many, 
I  would  ride  on  to  the  Castle  o'  Aboyne, 

Wi'  a  letter  to  my  rantin'  laddie." 

Down  the  stair  her  father  came, 
And  looked  proud  and  saucy ; 

"  Who  is  the  man,  and  what  is  his  name, 
That  ye  ca'  your  rantin'  laddie  ? 

"  Is  he  a  lord,  or  is  he  a  laird, 

Or  is  he  but  a  caddie  ? 
Or  is  it  the  young  Earl  o'  Aboyne, 

That  ye  ca'  your  rantin'  laddie  ?  " 

"  He  is  a  young  and  noble  lord, 

He  never  was  a  caddie ; 
It  is  the  noble  Earl  o'  Aboyne 

That  I  ca'  my  rantin'  laddie." 

"  Ye  shall  hae  a  horse  at  your  command, 

As  ye  had  often  many, 
To  go  to  the  Castle  o'  Aboyne, 

Wi'  a  letter  to  your  rantin'  laddie." 

"  Where  will  I  get  a  little  page, 

Where  will  I  get  a  caddie, 
That  will  run  quick  to  bonny  Aboyne, 

Wi'  this  letter  to  my  rantin'  laddie  ?  " 


THE  RANTIN'  LADDIE.  99 

Then  out  spoke  the  young  scullion  boy, 

Said,  "  Here  am  I,  a  caddie ; 
I  will  run  on  to  bonny  Aboyne 

Wi'  the  letter  to  your  rantin'  laddie."  « 

"  Now  when  ye  come  to  bonny  Deeside, 
Where  woods  are  green  and  bonny, 

Then,  will  ye  see  the  Earl  o'  Aboyne, 
Among  the  bushes  mony. 

"  And  when  ye  come  to  the  lands  o'  Aboyne,   « 

Where  all  around  is  bonny, 
Ye'll  take  your  hat  into  your  hand, 

Gie  this  letter  to  my  rantin'  laddie." 

When  he  came  near  the  banks  of  Dee, 

The  birks  were  blooming  bonny,  so 

And  there  he  saw  the  Earl  o'  Aboyne 
Among  the  bushes  mony. 

"  Where  are  ye  going,  my  bonny  boy, 
Where  are  ye  going,  my  caddie  ?  " 

"  I  am  going  to  the  Castle  o'  Aboyne  ss 

Wi'  a  letter  to  the  rantin'  laddie." 

u  See  yonder  is  the  castle  there, 

My  young  and  handsome  caddie, 
And  I  myself  am  the  Earl  o'  Aboyne, 

Tho  they  ca'  me  the  rantin'  laddie."  eo 


100  THE  RANTIN'  LADDIE. 

"  0  pardon,  my  lord,  if  I've  done  wrong ; 

Forgive  a  simple  caddie  ; 
O  pardon,  pardon,  Earl  o'  Aboyne, 

I  said  but  what  she  bade  me." 


"  Ye've  done  no  wrong,  my  bonny  boy, 
Ye've  done  no  wrong,  my  caddie  ; " 

Wi'  hat  in  hand  he  bowed  low, 

Gave  the  letter  to  the  rantin'  laddie. 

When  young  Aboyne  looked  the  letter  on, 

O  but  he  blinkit  bonny ; 
But  ere  he  read  four  lines  on  end, 

The  tears  came  trickling  mony. 

"  My  father  will  no  pity  shew, 
My  mother  still  does  slight  me, 

And  a'  my  friends  have  turned  from  me, 
And  servants  disrespect  me." 

"  Who  are  they  dare  be  so  bold 

To  cruelly  use  my  lassie  ? 
But  I'll  take  her  to  bonny  Aboyne, 

Where  oft  she  did  caress  me. 

"  Go  raise  to  me  five  hundred  men, 
Be  quick  and  make  them  ready  ; 

Each  on  a  steed,  to  haste  their  speed, 
To  carry  home  my  lady." 


THE  RANTIN'  LADDIE.  101 

As  they  rode  on  thro'  Buchanshire,  & 

The  company  were  many, 
Wi'  a  good  claymore  in  every  hand, 

That  glanced  wondrous  bonny. 

When  he  came  to  her  father's  gate 

He  called  for  his  lady  ;  so 

"  Come  down,  come  down,  my  bonny  maid, 

And  speak  wi'  your  rantin'  laddie." 

When  she  was  set  on  high  horseback, 

Row'd  in  the  highland  plaidie, 
The  bird  i'  the  bush  sung  not  so  sweet,  »5 

As  sung  this  bonny  lady. 

As  they  rode  on  thro'  Buchanshire, 

He  cried,  "  Each  lowland  lassie, 
Lay  your  love  on  some  lowland  lown, 

And  soon  will  he  prove  fause  t'  ye.  100 

"  But  take  my  advice,  and  make  your  choice 

Of  some  young  highland  laddie, 
Wi'  bonnet  and  plaid,  whose  heart  is  staid, 

And  he  will  not  beguile  ye." 

As  they  rode  on  thro'  Garioch  land,  m 

He  rode  up  in  a  fury, 
And  cried,  "  Fall  back  each  saucy  dame, 

Let  the  Countess  of  Aboyne  before  ye." 


THE  DUKE  OF  GORDON'S  DAUGHTER. 

Ritson's  Scottish  Songs,  ii.  169. 

"  ALEXANDER,  third  Earl  of  Huntly,  was  succeeded, 
in  1523,  by  his  grandson  Alexander,  Lord  Gordon, 
who  actually  had  three  daughters.  I.  Lady  Elizabeth, 
the  eldest,  married  to  John,  Earl  of  Athol.  II.  Lady 
Margaret,  married  to  John,  Lord  Forbes.  III.  Lady 
Jean,  the  youngest,  married  first,  to  James,  Earl  of 
Bothwell,  from  whom  she  was  divorced  in  1568  ;  she 
married,  secondly,  Alexander,  Earl  of  Southerland, 
who  died  in  1594 ;  and  surviving  him,  she  married, 
thirdly,  Captain  Alexander  Ogilvie,  son  and  successor 
of  Sir  Walter  Ogilvie  of  Boym,  who  died  in  1606 
without  issue."  STENHOUSE,  Musical  Museum,  iv. 
378. 

The  dukedom  of  Gordon  was  not  created  until 
1684,  and  therefore  the  first  line  should  probably  run 
as  quoted  by  Burns, — 

"  The  Lord  of  Gordon  had  three  daughters." 

The  duke  of  Gordon  has  three  daughters, 

Elizabeth,  Margaret,  and  Jean ; 
They  would  not  stay  in  bonny  Castle- Gordon, 

But  they  would  go  to  bonny  Aberdeen. 


THE  DUKE  OF  GORDON'S  DAUGHTER.  103 

They  had  not  been  in  Aberdeen  « 

A  twelvemonth  and  a  day, 
Till  Lady  Jean  fell  in  love  with  Captain  Ogilvie, 

And  away  with  him  she  would  gae. 

Word  came  to  the  duke  of  Gordon, 

In  the  chamber  where  he  lay,  10 

Lady  Jean  has  fell  in  love  with  Captain  Ogilvie, 
And  away  with  him  she  would  gae. 

"  Go  saddle  me  the  black  horse, 

And  you'll  ride  on  the  grey ; 
And  I  will  ride  to  bonny  Aberdeen,  IB 

Where  I  have  been  many  a  day." 

They  were  not  a  mile  from  Aberdeen, 

A  mile  but  only  three, 
Till  he  met  with  his  two  daughters  walking, 

But  away  was  Lady  Jean.  ao 

"  Where  is  your  sister,  maidens  ? 

Where  is  your  sister,  now  ? 
Where  is  your  sister,  maidens, 

That  she  is  not  walking  with  you  ?  " 

"  0  pardon  us,  honoured  father,  2c 

O  pardon  us,"  they  did  say ; 
"  Lady  Jean  is  with  Captain  Ogilvie, 

And  away  with  him  she  will  gae." 


104    THE    DUKE    OF    GORDON'S    DAUGHTER. 

When  he  came  to  Aberdeen, 

And  down  upon  the  green, 
There  did  he  see  Captain  Ogilvie, 

Training  up  his  men. 

"  O  wo  to  you,  Captain  Ogilvie, 
And  an  ill  death  thou  shalt  die ; 

For  taking  to  my  daughter, 
Hanged  thou  shalt  be." 

Duke  Gordon  has  wrote  a  broad  letter, 

And  sent  it  to  the  king, 
To  cause  hang  Captain  Ogilvie, 

If  ever  he  handed  a  man. 


"  I  will  not  hang  Captain  Ogilvie, 

For  no  lord  that  I  see  ; 
But  I'll  cause  him  to  put  off  the  lace  and  scarlet, 

And  put  on  the  single  livery." 

Word  came  to  Captain  Ogilvie,  45 

In  the  chamber  where  he  lay, 
To  cast  off  the  gold  lace  and  scarlet, 

And  put  on  the  single  livery. 

"  If  this  be  for  bonny  Jeany  Gordon, 

This  pennance  I'll  take  wi' ;  « 

If  this  be  bonny  Jeany  Gordon, 
All  this  I  will  dree." 


THE  DUKE  OF  GORDON'S  DAUGHTER.  105 

Lady  Jean  had  not  been  married, 

Not  a  year  but  three, 
Till  she  had  a  babe  in  every  arm,  « 

Another  upon  her  knee. 

"  0  but  I'm  weary  of  wandering ! 

O  but  my  fortune  is  bad ! 
It  sets  not  the  duke  of  Gordon's  daughter 

To  follow  a  soldier  lad.  so 

"0  but  I'm  weary  of  wandering ! 

O  but  I  think  lang! 
It  sets  not  the  duke  of  Gordon's  daughter, 

To  follow  a  single  man." 

When  they  came  to  the  Highland  hills,  «s 

Cold  was  the  frost  and  snow ; 
Lady  Jean's  shoes  they  were  all  torn, 

No  farther  could  she  go. 

"  0  wo  to  the  hills  and  the  mountains ! 

Wo  to  the  wind  and  the  rain  !  70 

My  feet  is  sore  with  going  barefoot, 

No  further  am  I  able  to  gang. 

"  Wo  to  the  hills  and  the  mountains ! 

Wo  to  the  frost  and  the  snow  ! 
My  feet  is  sore  with  going  barefoot,  75 

No  farther  am  I  able  for  to  go. 


106    THE    DUKE    OF    GORDON'S    DAUGHTER. 

"  0  !  if  I  were  at  the  glens  of  Foudlen, 

Where  hunting  I  have  been, 
I  would  find  the  way  to  bonny  Castle-Gordon, 

Without  either  stockings  or  shoon."  so 

When  she  came  to  Castle- Gordon, 

And  down  upon  the  green, 
The  porter  gave  out  a  loud  shout, 

"  O  yonder  comes  Lady  Jean." 

"  O  you  are  welcome,  bonny  Jeany  Gordon,     & 

You  are  dear  welcome  to  me ; 
You  are  welcome,  dear  Jeany  Gordon, 

But  away  with  your  Captain  Ogilvie." 

Now  over  seas  went  the  captain, 

As  a  soldier  under  command ;  90 

A  message  soon  followed  after, 

To  come  and  heir  his  brother's  land. 

"  Come  home,  you  pretty  Captain  Ogilvie, 

And  heir  your  brother's  land  ; 
Come  home,  ye  pretty  Captain  Ogilvie,  s» 

Be  earl  of  Northumberland." 

"  0  what  does  this  mean  ?  "  says  the  captain  ; 

"  Where's  my  brother's  children  three  ?  " 
"  They  are  dead  and  buried, 

And  the  lands  they  are  ready  for  thee."      100 


THE  DUKE  OF  GORDON'S  DAUGHTER.  107 

"  Then  hoist  up  your  sails,  brave  captain, 

Let's  be  jovial  and  free  ; 
I'll  to  Northumberland,  and  heir  my  estate, 

Then  my  dear  Jeany  I'll  see." 

He  soon  came  to  Castle- Gordon,  KB 

And  down  upon  the  green  ; 
The  porter  gave  out  with  a  loud  shout, 

"  Here  comes  Captain  Ogilvie." 

"  You're  welcome,  pretty  Captain  Ogilvie, 
Your  fortune's  advanced  I  hear ;  110 

No  stranger  can  come  unto  my  gates, 
That  I  do  love  so  dear." 

"  Sir,  the  last  time  I  was  at  your  gates, 

You  would  not  let  me  in  ; 
I'm  come  for  my  wife  and  children,  iw 

No  friendship  else  I  claim." 

"  Come  in,  pretty  Captain  Ogilvie, 
And  drink  of  the  beer  and  the  wine ; 

And  thou  shalt  have  gold  and  silver, 

To  count  till  the  clock  strike  nine."  tw 

"  I'll  have  none  of  your  gold  and  silver, 

Nor  none  of  your  white  money ; 
But  I'll  have  bonny  Jeany  Gordon  ; 

And  she  shall  go  now  with  me." 


108     THE   DUKE    OF    GORDON'S   DAUGHTER. 

Then  she  came  tripping  down  the  stair,  125 

With  the  tear  into  her  eye  ; 
One  babe  was  at  her  foot, 

Another  upon  her  knee. 

"  You're  welcome,  bonny  Jeany  Gordon, 

With  my  young  family ;  130 

Mount  and  go  to  Northumberland, 
There  a  countess  thou  shalt  be." 


THE  LAIRD  O'LOGIE. 

Minstrelsy  of  the  Scottish  Border,  iii.  131. 

AN  edition  of  this  ballad  was  published  in  Herd's 
Scottish  Songs,  (i.  54,)  and  there  is  styled  The  Young 
Laird  of  Ochiltrie.  Scott  recovered  the  following  copy 
from  recitation,  which  is  to  be  preferred  to  the  other, 
as  agreeing  more  closely  with  the  real  fact,  both  in 
the  name  and  the  circumstances. 

The  incident  here  celebrated  occurred  in  the  year 
1592.  Francis,  Earl  Bothwell,  being  then  engaged  in 
a  wild  conspiracy  against  James  VI.,  succeeded  in  ob 
taining  some  followers  even  among  the  king's  personal 
attendants.  Among  these  was  a  gentleman  named 
Weymis  of  Logie.  Accused  of  treasonable  converse 
with  Bothwell,  he  confessed  to  the  charge,  and  was, 
of  course,  in  danger  of  expiating  his  crime  by  death. 
But  he  was  rescued  through  the  address  and  courage  of 
Margaret  Twynstoun,  a  lady  of  the  court,  to  whom  he 
was  attached.  It  being  her  duty  to  wait  on  the  queen 
the  night  of  Logic's  accusation,  she  left  the  royal  cham 
ber  while  the  king  and  queen  were  asleep,  passed  to 
the  room  where  he  was  kept  in  custody,  and  ordered 
the  guard  to  bring  the  prisoner  into  the  presence  of 
their  majesties.  She  received  her  lover  at  the  cham- 


110 

ber  door,  commanding  the  guard  to  wait  there,  and 
conveyed  him  to  a  window,  from  which  he  escaped  by 
a  long  cord.  This  is  the  story  as  related  in  The  His- 
torie  of  King  James  the  Sext,  quoted  by  Scott. 

I  WILL  sing,  if  ye  will  hearken, 

If  ye  will  hearken  unto  me ; 
The  king  has  ta'en  a  poor  prisoner, 

The  wanton  laird  o'  young  Logic. 

Young  Logic's  laid  in  Edinburgh  chapel,          « 
Carmichael's  the  keeper  o'  the  key ; 

And  May  Margaret's  lamenting  sair, 
A'  for  the  love  of  young  Logic. 

May  Margaret  sits  in  the  queen's  bouir, 

Knicking  her  fingers  ane  by  ane,  10 

Cursing  the  day  that  she  e'er  was  born, 
Or  that  she  e'er  heard  o'  Logic's  name. 

"  Lament,  lament  na,  May  Margaret, 

And  of  your  weeping  let  me  be ; 
For  ye  maun  to  the  king  himsell,  15 

To  seek  the  life  o'  young  Logic." 

May  Margaret  has  kilted  her  green  cleiding, 
And  she  has  curl'd  back  her  yellow  hair, — 

v.  9-12.    This  stanza  was  obtained  by  Motherwell  from 
recitation. 


THE   LAIRD    o'    LOGIE.  Ill 

"  If  I  canna  get  young  Logic's  life, 

Farewell  to  Scotland  for  evermair."  20 

When  she  came  before  the  king, 

She  knelit  lowly  on  her  knee. 
"  O  what's  the  matter,  May  Margaret  ? 

And  what  need's  a'  this  courtesie  ?  " 

"  A  boon,  a  boon,  my  noble  liege,  25 

A  boon,  a  boon,  I  beg  o'  thee  ! 
And  the  first  boon  that  I  come  to  crave 

Is  to  grant  me  the  life  o'  young  Logic." 

"  O  na,  O  na,  May  Margaret, 

Forsooth,  and  so  it  mauna  be  ;  so 

For  a'  the  gowd  o'  fair  Scotland 

Shall  not  save  the  life  o'  young  Logic." 

But  she  has  stown  the  king's  redding  kaim, 
Likewise  the  queen  her  wedding  knife  ; 

And  sent  the  tokens  to  Carmichael,  35 

To  cause  young  Logic  get  his  life. 

She  sent  him  a  purse  o'  the  red  gowd, 

Another  o'  the  white  monie ; 
She  sent  him  a  pistol  for  each  hand, 

And  bade  him  shoot  when  he  gat  free.         40 

When  he  came  to  the  Tolbooth  stair, 
There  he  let  his  volley  flee  ; 


112  THE    LAIRD    o'   LOGIE. 

It  made  the  king  in  his  chamber  start, 
E'en  in  the  bed  where  he  might  be. 

"  Gae  out,  gae  out,  my  merrymen  a',  45 

And  bid  Carmichael  come  speak  to  me ; 

For  I'll  lay  my  life  the  pledge  o'  that, 
That  yon's  the  shot  o'  young  Logie." 

When  Carmichael  came  before  the  king, 

He  fell  low  down  upon  his  knee  ;  so 

The  very  first  word  that  the  king  spake 

Was, — "  Where's  the  laird  of  young  Logie  ?  " 

Carmichael  turn'd  him  round  about, 
(I  wot  the  tear  blinded  his  e'e,) — 

"  There  came  a  token  frae  your  grace  ss 

Has  ta'en  away  the  laird  frae  me." 

"  Hast  thou  play'd  me  that,  Carmichael  ? 

And  hast  thou  play'd  me  that  ?  "  quoth  he ; 
"  The  morn  the  Justice  Court's  to  stand, 

And  Logic's  place  ye  maun  supplie."       -    fio 

Carmichael's  awa  to  Margaret's  bower, 

Even  as  fast  as  he  may  drie, — 
"  O  if  young  Logie  be  within, 

Tell  him  to  come  and  speak  with  me ! " 

May  Margaret  turn'd  her  round  about,  es 

(I  wot  a  loud  laugh  laughed  she,) — 


THE    LAIRD    O*   LOGIE.  113 

"  The  egg  is  chipp'd,  the  bird  is  flown, 
Ye'll  see  nae  mair  of  young  Logic." 

The  tane  is  shipped  at  the  pier  of  Leith, 

The  tother  at  the  Queen's  Ferrie  ;  ?o 

And  she's  gotten  a  father  to  her  bairn, 
The  wanton  laird  of  young  Logic. 


VOL.  iv.  8 


THE  GYPSIE  LADDIE. 


THIS  ballad  first  appeared  in  print  in  the  Tea- 
Table  Miscellany,  (ii.  282,)  from  which  it  was  adopted 
into  Herd's  and  Pinkerton's  collections,  Johnson's 
Museum,  and  Bitson's  Scottish  Songs.  The  version 
here  selected,  that  of  Finlay,  (Scottish  Ballads,  ii.  39,) 
is  nearly  the  same,  but  has  two  more  stanzas,  the 
third  and  the  fourth.  Different  copies  are  given  in 
MotherwelPs  Minstrelsy,  p.  360,  Smith's  Scottish  Min 
strel,  iii.  90,  The  Songs  of  England  and  Scotland,  (by- 
Peter  Cunningham,)  ii.  346,  and  Sheldon's  Minstrelsy 
of  the  English  Border,  p.  329,  (see  our  Appendix ;) 
others,  which  we  have  not  seen,  in  Mactaggart's  Gal- 
lovidian  Dictionary,  Chambers's  Scottish  Gypsies,  and 
The  Scot's  Magazine  for  November,  1817. 

There  is  a  popular  tradition,  possessing,  we  believe, 
no  foundation  in  fact,  that  the  incidents  of  this  ballad 
belong  to  the  history  of  the  noble  family  of  Cassilis. 
The  Lady  Jean  Hamilton,  daughter  of  the  Earl  of 
Waddington,  is  said  to  have  been  constrained  to  marry 
a  grim  Covenanter,  John,  Earl  of  Cassilis,  though  her 
affections  were  already  engaged  to  Sir  John  Faa  of 


THE    GTPSIE    LADDIE.  115 

Dunbar.  In  1643,  several  years  after  their  union, 
when  the  Countess  had  given  birth  to  two  or  three 
children,  her  husband  being  absent  from  home  on  a 
mission  to  the  Assembly  of  Divines  at  Westminster, 
Sir  John  presented  himself  at  Cassilis  Castle,  at 
tended  by  a  small  band  of  gypsies,  and  himself  dis 
guised  as  one.  The  recollection  of  her  early  passion 
proved  stronger  than  the  marriage  vow,  and  the  lady 
eloped  with  her  former  lover.  But  before  she  had 
got  far  from  home,  the  Earl  happened  to  return. 
Learning  what  had  occurred,  he  set  out  in  pursuit 
with  a  considerable  body  of  followers,  and,  arresting 
the  fugitives,  brought  them  back  to  his  castle,  where  he 
hanged  Sir  John  and  his  companions  on  a  great  tree 
before  the  gate.  The  Countess  was  obliged  to  wit 
ness  the  execution  from  a  chamber  window,  and  after 
a  short  confinement  in  the  castle,  was  shut  up  for  the 
rest  of  her  life  in  a  house  at  Maybole,  four  miles  dis 
tant,  which  had  been  fitted  up  for  her,  with  a  staircase 
on  which  were  carved  a  set  of  heads  representing  her 
lover  and  his  troop. 

Unfortunately  for  the  truth  of  the  story,  letters  are 
in  existence,  written  by  the  Earl  of  Cassilis  to  the 
Lady  Jean  after  the  date  of  these  events,  which  prove 
the  subsistence  of  a  high  degree  of  mutual  affection 
and  confidence ;  and  Finlay  assures  us  that  after  a 
diligent  search,  he  had  been  able  to  discern  nothing 
that  in  the  slightest  confirmed  the  popular  tale.  The 
whole  story  is  perhaps  the  malicious  invention  of  an 
enemy  of  the  house  of  Cassilis,  and  as  such  would 
not  be  unparalleled  in  the  history  of  ballad  poetry. 
See  Dauney's  Ancient  Scottish  Melodies,  p.  269,  and 
Chambers's  Scottish  Ballads,  p.  143. 


116  THE    GTPSIE    LADDIE. 

THE  gypsies  came  to  our  good  lord's  gate, 

And  wow  but  they  sang  sweetly  ; 
They  sang  sae  sweet  and  sae  very  complete, 

That  down  came  the  fair  lady. 

And  she  came  tripping  doun  the  stair,  « 

And  a'  her  maids  before  her ; 
As  soon  as  they  saw  her  weel-far'd  face, 

They  coost  the  glamer  o'er  her. 

"  O  come  with  me,"  says  Johnie  Faw, 

"  O  come  with  me,  my  dearie  ;  10 

For  I  vow  and  I  swear  by  the  hilt  of  my  sword, 
That  your  lord  shall  nae  mair  come  near  ye." 

Then  she  gied  them  the  beer  and  the  wine, 

And  they  gied  her  the  ginger ; 
But  she  gied  them  a  far  better  thing,  is 

The  goud  ring  aff  her  finger. 

"  Gae  tak  frae  me  this  gay  mantle, 

And  bring  to  me  a  plaidie  ; 
For  if  kith  and  kin  and  a'  had  sworn, 

I'll  follow  the  gypsie  laddie.  a 

"  Yestreen  I  lay  in  a  weel-made  bed, 

Wi'  my  good  lord  beside  me ; 
But  this  night  I'll  lye  in  a  tennant's  barn, 

Whatever  shall  betide  me." 


THE    GYPSIE    LADDIE.  117 

"  Come  to  your  bed,"  says  Johnie  Faw,  25 

O  come  to  your  bed,  my  dearie  ; 
For  I  vow  and  swear  by  the  hilt  of  my  sword, 

That  your  lord  shall  nae  mair  come  near  ye." 

"  I'll  go  to  bed  to  my  Johnie  Faw, 

I'll  go  to  bed  to  my  dearie  ;  a> 

For  I  vow  and  I  swear  by  the  fan  in  my  hand, 

That  my  lord  shall  nae  mair  come  near  me. 

"  I'll  mak  a  hap  to  my  Johnie  Faw, 

I'll  mak  a  hap  to  my  dearie ; 
And  he's  get  a'  the  coat  gaes  round,  35 

And  my  lord  shall  nae  mair  come  near  me." 

And  when  our  lord  came  hame  at  e'en, 

And  spier'd  for  his  fair  lady, 
The  tane  she  cry'd,  and  the  other  replied, 

"  She's  away  wi'  the  gypsie  laddie."  « 

"  Gae  saddle  to  me  the  black  black  steed, 

Gae  saddle  and  make  him  ready  ; 
Before  that  I  either  eat  or  sleep, 

I'll  gae  seek  my  fair  lady." 

And  we  were  fifteen  weel-made  men,  45 

Altho'  we  were  na  bonny  ; 
And  we  were  a'  put  down  but  ane, 

For  a  fair  young  wanton  lady. 


LAIRD  OF  DRUM. 

FROM  Kinloch's  Ancient  Scottish  Ballads,  p.  200, 
obtained  from  recitation.  Another  copy  is  furnished 
by  Buchan,  Ballads  of  the  North  of  Scotland,  ii. 
194,  which,  with  some  variations,  is  printed  again  in 
Scottish  Traditional  Versions  of  Ancient  Ballads,  Percy 
Society,  vol.  xvii.  p.  53. 

"  This  ballad,"  says  Kinloch,  was  composed  on  the 
marriage  of  Alexander  Irvine  of  Drum  to  his  second 
wife,  Margaret  Coutts,  a  woman  of  inferior  birth  and 
manners,  which  step  gave  great  offence  to  his  rela 
tions.  He  had  previously,  in  1643,  married  Mary, 
fourth  daughter  of  George,  second  Marquis  of  Huntly. 

THE  Laird  o'  Drum  is  a  wooing  gane, 

It  was  on  a  morning  early, 
And  he  has  fawn  in  wi'  a  bonnie  may 

A-shearing  at  her  barley. 

"  My  bonnie  may,  my  weel-faur'd  may,  & 

0  will  ye  fancy  me,  O  ; 
And  gae  and  be  the  lady  o'  Drum, 

And  lat  your  shearing  abee,  0  ?  " 


LAIRD    OF    DRUM.  119 

"  It's  I  canna  fancy  thee,  kind  sir, 

I  winna  fancy  thee,  O,  10 

I  winna  gae  and  be  Lady  o'  Drum, 

And  lat  my  shearing  abee,  0. 

"  But  set  your  love  on  anither,  kind  sir, 

Set  it  not  on  me,  O, 
For  I  am  not  fit  to  be  your  bride,  is 

And  your  hure  I'll  never  be,  O. 

"  My  father  he  is  a  shepherd  mean, 

Keeps  sheep  on  yonder  hill,  O, 
And  ye  may  gae  and  speir  at  him, 

For  I  am  at  his  will,  0."  *> 

Drum  is  to  her  father  gane, 

Keeping  his  sheep  on  yon  hill,  O  ; 

And  he  has  gotten  his  consent 
That  the  may  was  at  his  will,  O. 

"  But  my  dochter  can  neither  read  nor  write,  25 
She  was  ne'er  brought  up  at  scheel,  O ; 

But  weel  can  she  milk  cow  and  ewe, 
And  mak  a  kebbuck  weel,  O. 

"  She'll  win  in  your  barn  at  bear-seed  time, 
Cast  out  your  muck  at  Yule,  O,  so 

She'll  saddle  your  steed  in  time  o'  need, 
And  draw  aff  your  boots  hersell,  O." 


120  LAIRD    OF    DRUM. 

"  Have  not  I  no  clergymen  ? 

Pay  I  no  clergy  fee,  O  ? 
I'll  scheel  her  as  I  think  fit, 

And  as  I  think  weel  to  be,  O. 

"  I'll  learn  your  lassie  to  read  and  write, 
And  I'll  put  her  to  the  scheel,  O  ; 

She'll  neither  need  to  saddle  my  steed, 
Nor  draw  aff  my  boots  hersell,  O. 

But  wha  will  bake  my  bridal  bread, 

Or  brew  my  bridal  ale,  0  ; 
And  wha  will  welcome  my  bonnie  bride, 

Is  mair  than  I  can  tell,  O." 

Drum  is  to  the  hielands  gane, 

For  to  mak  a'  ready, 
And  a'  the  gentry  round  about, 

Cried,  "  Yonder's  Drum  and  his  lady  ! 

"Peggy  Coutts  is  a  very  bonnie  bride, 
And  Drum  is  a  wealthy  laddie, 

But  he  micht  hae  chosen  a  hier  match, 
Than  onie  shepherd's  lassie." 

Then  up  bespak  his  brither  John, 

Says,  "  Ye've  deen  us  meikle  wrang,  O ; 

Ye've  married  een  below  our  degree, 
A  lake  to  a'  our  kin,  O." 


LAIRD    OF    DRUM.  121 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  my  brither  John, 

I  have  deen  you  na  wrang,  O  ; 
For  I've  married  een  to  wirk  and  win, 

And  ye've  married  een  to  spend,  0.  co 

"  The  first  time  that  I  had  a  wife, 
She  was  far  abeen  my  degree,  0  ; 

I  durst  na  come  in  her  presence, 
But  wi'  my  hat  upo'  my  knee,  O. 

"  The  first  wife  that  I  did  wed,  e 

She  was  far  abeen  my  degree,  O  ; 

She  wadna  hae  walk'd  to  the  yetts  o'  Drum, 
But  the  pearls  abeen  her  bree,  O. 

"  But  an  she  was  ador'd  for  as  much  gold, 
As  Peggy's  for  beautie,  O,  ™ 

She  micht  walk  to  the  yetts  o'  Drum, 
Amang  gueed  companie,  0." 

There  war  four  and  twenty  gentlemen 

Stood  at  the  yetts  o'  Drum,  0  ; 
There  was  na  ane  amang  them  a*  75 

That  welcom'd  his  lady  in,  O. 

He  has  tane  her  by  the  milk-white  hand, 

And  led  her  in  himsel,  O, 
And  in  thro'  ha's,  and  in  thro'  bouers, — 

"  And  ye're  welcome,  Lady  o'  Drum,  0."    »* 


122  LAIRD    OF    DRUM. 

Thrice  he  kissed  her  cherry  cheek, 

And  thrice  her  cherry  chin,  O  ; 
And  twenty  times  her  comely  mou', — 

"  And  ye're  welcome,  Lady  o'  Drum,  O. 

"  Ye  sail  be  cook  in  my  kitchen,  ® 

Butler  in  my  ha',  O  ; 
Ye  sail  be  lady  in  my  command, 

Whan  I  ride  far  awa,  O." — 

"  But  I  told  ye  afore  we  war  wed, 

I  was  owre  low  for  thee,  O ;  so 

But  now  we  are  wed,  and  in  ae  bed  laid, 

And  ye  maun  be  content  wi'  me,  0. 

"  For  an  I  war  dead,  and  ye  war  dead, 

And  baith  in  ae  grave  laid,  O, 
And  ye  and  I  war  tane  up  again,  93 

Wha  could  distan  your  mouls  frae  mine,  0  ?" 


LADY  ANNE  BOTHWELL'S  LAMENT. 


THE  unhappy  lady  into  whose  mouth  some  unknown 
poet  has  put  this  lament,  is  now  ascertained  to  have 
been  Anne,  daughter  to  Bothwell,  Bishop  of  Ork 
ney.  Her  faithless  lover  was  her  cousin,  Alexander 
Erskine,  son  to  the  Earl  of  Mar.  Lady  Anne  is  said 
to  have  possessed  great  beauty,  and  Sir  Alexander 
was  reputed  the  handsomest  man  of  his  age.  He  was 
first  a  colonel  in  the  French  army,  but  afterwards 
engaged  in  the  service  of  the  Covenanters,  and  came 
to  his  death  by  being  blown  up,  with  many  other  per 
sons  of  rank,  in  Douglass  Castle,  on  the  30th  of  August, 
1640.  The  events  which  occasioned  the  ballad  seem 
to  have  taken  place  early  in  the  seventeenth  century. 
Of  the  fate  of  the  lady  subsequent  to  this  period  noth 
ing  is  known.  See  Chambers,  Scottish  Ballads,  p.  150, 
and  The  Scots  Musical  Museum,  (1853,)  iv.  203*. 

In  Brome's  comedy  of  The  Northern  Lass,  or  the 
Nest  of  Fools,  acted  in  1632,  occur  the  two  following 
stanzas.  They  are,  perhaps,  a  part  of  the  original 
Lament,  which  certainly  has  undergone  great  altera 
tions  in  its  progress  down  to  our  times. 


124         LADY    ANNE    BOTHWELI/S    LAMENT. 

"  Peace,  wayward  barne !  Oh  cease  thy  moan ! 
Thy  farre  more  wayward  daddy's  gone, 
And  never  will  recalled  be, 
By  cryes  of  either  thee  or  me : 

For  should  wee  cry 

Until  we  dye, 
Wee  could  not  scant  his  cruelty. 

Sallow,  ballow,  &c. 

"  He  needs  might  in  himselfe  foresee 
What  thou  successively  might'st  be; 
And  could  hee  then  (though  me  foregoe) 
His  infant  leave,  ere  hee  did  know 

How  like  the  dad 

Would  be  the  lad, 

In  time  to  make  fond  maydens  glad? 
Ballow,  hallow,  &c." 


The  first  professed  edition  of  this  piece  is  in  the 
Third  Part  of  Watson's  Collection  of  Comic  and  Serious 
Scots  Poems,  p.  79 ;  the  next  in  the  Tea-Table  Mis 
cellany,  i.  161.  Both  of  these  copies  have  been  mod 
ernized,  but  Ramsay's  is  the  better  of  the  two,  and 
equally  authentic.  We  therefore  select  Ramsay's, 
and  add  to  it  Percy's,  which  contains  three  stanzas  not 
found  in  the  others,  and  preserves  somewhat  more  of 
the  air  of  antiquity.  There  is  a  version  extending  to 
fifteen  stanzas,  arranged  in  a  very  different  order,  in 
Evans's  Old  Ballads,  i.  259.  Herd,  Ritson,  &c.,  have 
followed  Ramsay. 

BALOW,  my  boy,  ly  still  and  sleep, 
It  grieves  me  sore  to  hear  thee  weep  : 


LADY   ANNE    BOTHWELI/S    LAMENT.        125 

If  thou'lt  be  silent,  I'll  be  glad, 

Thy  mourning  makes  my  heart  full  sad. 

Balow,  my  boy,  thy  mother's  joy,  « 

Thy  father  bred  me  great  annoy. 

Balow,  my  boy,  ly  still  and  sleep, 
It  grieves  me  sore  to  hear  thee  weep. 

Balow,  my  darling,  sleep  a  while, 

And  when  thou  wak'st,  then  sweetly  smile ;  10 

But  smile  not  as  thy  father  did, 

To  cozen  maids,  nay,  God  forbid ; 

For  in  thine  eye  his  look  I  see, 

The  tempting  look  that  ruin'd  me, 

Balow,  my  boy,  fyc.  i« 

When  he  began  to  court  my  love, 
And  with  his  sugar'd  words  to  move, 
His  tempting  face,  and  flatt'ring  chear 
In  time  to  me  did  not  appear  ; 
But  now  I  see  that  cruel  he  20 

Cares  neither  for  his  babe  nor  me. 
Balow,  my  boy,  fyc. 

Fareweel,  fareweel,  thou  falsest  youth 
That  ever  kist  a  woman's  mouth  ; 
Let  never  any  after  me  25 

Submit  unto  thy  courtesy  ! 
For,  if  they  do,  O !  cruel  thou 
Wilt  her  abuse,  and  care  not  how. 
Balow,  my  boy,  §c. 


126   LADY  ANNE  BOTHWELI/S  LAMENT. 

I  was  too  cred'lous  at  the  first,  so 

To  yield  thee  all  a  maiden  durst ; 
Thou  swore  for  ever  true  to  prove, 
Thy  faith  unchang'd,  unchang'd  thy  love  ; 
But  quick  as  thought  the  change  is  wrought, 
Thy  love's  no  raair,  thy  promise  nought.       35 
Balow,  my  boy,  fyc. 

I  wish  I  were  a  maid  again  ! 
From  young  men's  flatt'ry  I'd  refrain  ; 
For  now  unto  my  grief  I  find 
They  all  are  perjur'd  and  unkind  ;  « 

Bewitching  charms  bred  all  my  harms ; — 
"Witness  my  babe  lies  in  my  arms. 
Balow,  my  boy,  fyc. 

I  take  my  fate  from  bad  to  worse, 

That  I  must  needs  be  now  a  nurse,  « 

And  lull  my  young  son  on  my  lap : 

From  me,  sweet  orphan,  take  the  pap. 

Balow,  my  child,  thy  mother  mild 

Shall  wail  as  from  all  bliss  exil'd. 

Balow,  my  boy,  8?c.  ® 

Balow,  my  boy,  weep  not  for  me, 
Whose  greatest  grief's  for  wronging  thee  ; 
Nor  pity  her  deserved  smart. 
Who  can  blame  none  but  her  fond  heart ; 
For,  too  soon  trusting  latest  finds  w 

With  fairest  tongues  are  falsest  minds. 
Balow,  my  boy,  fyc. 


LADY   ANNE    BOTHWELI/S    LAMENT.        127 

Balow,  my  boy,  thy  father's  fled, 
When  he  the  thriftless  son  has  played ; 
Of  vows  and  oaths  forgetful,  he  eo 

Preferr'd  the  wars  to  thee  and  me. 
But  now,  perhaps,  thy  curse  and  mine 
Make  him  eat  acorns  with  the  swine. 
Balow,  my  boy,  fyc. 

But  curse  not  him  ;  perhaps  now  he,  cs 

Stung  with  remorse,  is  blessing  thee : 
Perhaps  at  death ;  for  who  can  tell, 
Whether  the  judge  of  heaven  or  hell, 
By  some  proud  foe  has  struck  the  blow, 
And  laid  the  dear  deceiver  low  ?  TO 

Balow,  my  boy,  fyc. 

I  wish  I  were  into  the  bounds 
Where  he  lies  smother'd  in  his  wounds, 
Repeating,  as  he  pants  for  air, 
My  name,  whom  once  he  call'd  his  fair ;       7s 
No  woman's  yet  so  fiercely  set, 
But  she'll  forgive,  though  not  forget. 
Balow,  my  boy,  fyc. 

If  linen  lacks,  for  my  love's  sake, 
Then  quickly  to  him  would  I  make  so 

My  smock,  once  for  his  body  meet, 
And  wrap  him  in  that  winding-sheet 
Ah  me  !  how  happy  had  I  been, 
If  he  had  ne'er  been  wrapt  therein. 
Balow,  my  boy,  fyc. 


128       LADY   ANNE    BOTHWELI/S    LAMENT. 

Balow,  my  boy,  I'll  weep  for  thee : 
Too  soon,  alake,  thou'lt  weep  for  me  : 
Thy  griefs  are  growing  to  a  sum, 
God  grant  thee  patience  when  they  come ; 
Born  to  sustain  thy  mother's  shame, 
A  hapless  fate,  a  bastard's  name. 

Balow,  my  boy,  ly  still  and  sleep, 
It  grieves  me  sore  to  hear  thee  weep. 


LADY  ANNE  BOTHWELL'S  LAMENT. 

From  Percy's  Rdiques,  ii.  207. 

"  FROM  a  copy  in  the  Editor's  folio  MS.,  corrected 
oy  another  in  Allan  Ramsay's  Miscellany." 

BALOW,  my  babe,  lye  still  and  sleipe ! 
It  grieves  me  sair  to  see  thee  weipe : 
If  thoust  be  silent,  Ise  be  glad, 
Thy  maining  maks  my  heart  ful  sad. 
Balow,  my  boy,  thy  mothers  joy,  * 

Thy  father  breides  me  great  annoy. 
Balow,  my  babe,  ly  stil  and  sleipe, 
It  grieves  me  sair  to  see  thee  weepe. 

Whan  he  began  to  court  my  luve, 

And  with  his  sngred  wordes  to  muve,          10 

His  faynings  fals  and  flattering  cheire 

To  me  that  time  did  not  appeire : 

But  now  I  see,  most  cruell  hee 

Cares  neither  for  my  babe  nor  mee. 

Balow,  fyc.        is 
VOL.  iv.  9 


130   LADY  ANNE  BOTHWELL's  LAMENT. 

Lye  stillx  my  darling,  sleipe  a  while, 
And  when  thou  wakest,  sweitly  smile  : 
But  smile  not,  as  thy  father  did, 
To  cozen  maids  ;  nay,  God  forbid  ! 
But  yett  1  feire,  thou  wilt  gae  neire 
Thy  fatheris  hart  and  face  to  beire. 

JBalow,  fyc. 

I  cannae  chuse,  but  ever  will 
Be  luving  to  thy  father  still : 
Whaireir  he  gae,  whaireir  he  ryde, 
My  luve  with  him  doth  still  abyde : 
In  weil  or  wae,  whaireir  he  gae, 
Mine  hart  can  neire  depart  him  frae. 

Balow,  fyc. 

But  doe  not,  doe  not,  pretty  mine, 
To  faynings  fals  thine  hart  incline  ; 
Be  loyal  to  thy  luver  trew, 
And  nevir  change  her  for  a  new  : 
If  gude  or  faire,  of  hir  have  care, 
For  womens  banning  's  wonderous  sair. 

Balow,  fyc. 

Bairne,  sin  thy  cruel  father  is  gane, 

Thy  winsome  smiles  maun  eise  my  paine ; 

My  babe  and  I  '11  together  live, 

He'll  comfort  me  when  cares  doe  grieve : 

My  babe  and  I  right  saft  will  ly, 

And  quite  forgeit  man's  cruelty. 

,  fyc. 


LADY   ANNE   BOTHWELI/S    LAMENT.       131 

Farewell,  farewell,  thou  falsest  youth, 
That  evir  kist  a  womans  mouth !  45 

I  wish  all  maides  be  warned  by  mee 
Nevir  to  trust  mans  curtesy  ; 
For  if  we  doe  bot  chance  to  bow, 
They'll  use  us  then  they  care  not  how. 
\Balow,  my  babe,  ly  stil  and  sleipe, 
It  grieves  me  sair  to  see  thee  weipe.  so 


WALY,  WALY,  BUT  LOVE  BE  BONNY. 


THESE  beautiful  verses  are  thought  to  be  only  a 
part  of  Lord  Jamie  Douglas,  (see  the  next  piece,)  in 
one  copy  or  another  of  which,  according  to  Moth- 
erwell,  nearly  all  of  them  are  to  be  found.  They 
were  first  published  in  the  Tea-Table  Miscellany,  (i. 
231,)  and  are  here  given  as  they  there  appear,  sep 
arate  from  an  explicit  story.  Although  in  this  condition 
they  must  be  looked  upon  as  a  fragment,  still,  they  are 
too  awkwardly  introduced  in  the  ballad  above  men 
tioned,  and  too  superior  to  the  rest  of  the  composition, 
to  allow  of  our  believing  that  they  have  as  yet  found 
their  proper  connection. 

In  Johnson's  Museum,  (i.  166,)  besides  several  trifling 
variations  from  Ramsay's  copy,  the  fourth  is  replaced 
by  the  following : 

When  cockle  shells  turn  siller  bells, 
And  mussels  grow  on  every  tree, 

When  frost  and  snaw  shall  warm  us  a', 
Then  shall  my  love  prove  true  to  me. 

The  third  stanza  stands  thus  in  a  Christmas  medley, 


WALY,  WALT,  BUT  LOVE  BE  BONNY.        133 

quoted  by  Leyden  from  a  "MS.  Cantus  of  the  latter 
part  of  the  17th  century  :  " 

Hey  troly  loly,  love  is  joly, 

A  whyle  whill  it  is  new; 
When  it  is  old,  it  grows  full  cold, — 

Woe  worth  the  love  untrue ! 

Camplaynt  of  Scotland,  i.  278. 

0  WALY,  waly  up  the  bank, 
And  waly,  waly  down  the  brae, 

And  waly,  waly  yon  burn  side, 
Where  I  and  my  love  wont  to  gae. 

1  lean'd  my  back  unto  an  aik,  6 

I  thought  it  was  a  trusty  tree  ; 
But  first  it  bow'd,  and  syne  it  brak, 
Sae  my  true  love  did  lightly  me  ! 

O  waly,  waly,  but  love  be  bonny, 

A  little  time  while  it  is  new ;  10 

But  when  'tis  auld,  it  waxeth  cauld, 
And  fades  away  like  the  morning  dew. 

O  wherefore  should  I  busk  my  head  ? 

Or  wherfore  should  I  kame  my  hair  ? 
For  my  true  love  has  me  forsook,  IB 

And  says  he'll  never  love  me  mair. 

Now  Arthur-Seat  shall  be  my  bed, 
The  sheets  shall  ne'er  be  fyl'd  by  me : 


134       WALT,  WALY,  BUT  LOVE  BE  BONNY. 

Saint  Anton's  well  shall  be  my  drink, 

Since  iny  true  love  has  forsaken  me.        a 

Martinmas  wind,  when  wilt  thou  blaw, 
And  shake  the  green  leaves  off  the  tree  ? 

O  gentle  death,  when  wilt  thou  come  ? 
For  of  my  life  I'm  weary. 

Tis  not  the  frost  that  freezes  fell,  2 

Nor  blawing  snaw's  inclemency ; 

'Tis  not  sic  cauld  that  makes  me  cry, 
But  my  love's  heart  grown  cauld  to  me. 

When  we  came  in  by  Glasgow  town, 

We  were  a  comely  sight  to  see  ;  a 

My  love  was  clad  in  the  black  velvet, 
And  I  my  sell  in  cramasie. 

But  had  I  wist,  before  I  kiss'd, 
That  love  had  been  sae  ill  to  win, 

I'd  lock'd  my  heart  in  a  case  of  gold,  a 

And  pin'd  it  with  a  silver  pin. 

Oh,  oh,  if  my  young  babe  were  born, 
And  set  upon  the  nurse's  knee, 

And  I  my  sell  were  dead  and  ga.ne ! 

For  a  maid  again  I'll  never  be.  < 


LORD  JAMIE  DOUGLAS. 

FROM  the  appendix  to  Motherwell's  Minstrelsy, 
p.  v.  An  imperfect  copy  of  this  ballad  was  printed 
in  Finlay's  collection,  vol.  ii.  p.  4 ;  another,  called  the 
Laird  of  Blackwood,  in  Kinloch's,  p.  60.  Both  of 
them  may  be  seen  at  the  end  of  this  volume.  Chambers 
has  compiled  a  ballad  in  four  parts  from  these  three 
versions,  another  in  manuscript,  furnished  by  Kinloch, 
and  the  verses  just  given  from  Ramsay's  Miscellany ; 
and  Aytoun,  more  recently,  has  made  up  a  ballad  from 
two  copies  obtained  from  recitation  by  Kinloch,  and 
called  it  The  Marchioness  of  Douglas.  Ballads  of 
Scotland,  2d  ed.  i.  135. 

The  circumstances  which  gave  rise  to  the  ballad  are 
thus  stated  by  Chambers :  "  James,  second  Marquis  of 
Douglas,  when  aged  twenty-four,  married  at  Edin 
burgh,  on  the  7th  of  September,  1670,  Lady  Barbara 
Erskine,  eldest  daughter  of  John,  ninth  Earl  of  Mar. 
This  lady  is  said  to  have  been  previously  wooed,  with 
out  success,  by  a  gentleman  of  the  name  of  Lowrie, 
who  on  account  of  his  afterwards  marrying  Mariotte 
Weir,  heiress  of  Blackwood,  in  Lanarkshire,  was  com 
monly  called,  according  to  the  custom  of  Scotland, 
the  Tutor,  and  sometimes  the  Laird,  of  Blackwood. 
Lowrie,  who  seems  to  have  been  considerably  ad 
vanced  in  life  at  the  time,  was  chamberlain  or  factor  to 
the  Marquis  of  Douglas;  a  circumstance  which  gave  him 
peculiar  facilities  for  executing  an  atrocious  scheme 
of  vengeance  he  had  projected  against  the  lady.  By 
a  train  of  proceedings  somewhat  similar  to  those  of 


136  LORD    JAMIE    DOUGLAS. 

lago,  and  in  particular,  by  pretending  to  have  dis 
covered  a  pair  of  men's  shoes  underneath  the  Mar 
chioness's  bed,  he  completely  succeeded  in  breaking  up 
the  affection  of  the  unfortunate  couple.  Lord  Doug 
las,  who,  though  a  man  of  profligate  conduct,  had 
hitherto  treated  his  wife  with  some  degree  of  politeness, 
now  rendered  her  life  so  miserable,  that  she  was 
obliged  to  seek  refuge  with  her  father.  The  earl 
came  with  a  large  retinue  to  carry  her  off,  when,  ac 
cording  to  the  ballad,  as  well  as  the  tradition  of  the 
country,  a  most  affecting  scene  took  place.  The  Mar 
quis  himself  was  so  much  overcome  by  the  parting  of 
his  wife  and  child  —  for  she  had  now  borne  a  son  — 
that  he  expressed,  even  in  that  last  hour,  a  desire  of 
being  reconciled  to  her.  But  the  traitorous  Lowrie 
succeeded  in  preventing  him  from  doing  so,  by  a  well- 
aimed  sarcasm  at  his  weakness.  . . .  Regarding  the 
ultimate  fate  of  the  Marchioness  I  am  altogether 
ignorant.  It  is,  however,  very  improbable  that  any 
reconciliation  ever  took  place  between  her  and  her 
husband,  such  as  is  related  in  the  ballad."  Scottish 
Ballads,  p.  150. 

O  WALY,  waly  up  the  bank, 

And  waly,  waly  down  the  brae, 
And  waly,  waly  by  yon  burn  side, 

Where  me  and  my  lord  was  wont  to  gae. 

Hey  nonny  nonnie,  but  love  is  bonnie,  5 

A  little  while  when  it  is  new  ; 
But  when  love  grows  auld  it  grows  mair  cauld, 

And  fades  away  like  the  morning  dew. 


LORD    JAMIE    DOUGLAS.  137 

I  lean'd  my  back  against  an  aik, 

I  thocht  it  was  a  trustie  tree  ;  u 

But  first  it  bowed,  and  syne  it  break, 

And  sae  did  my  fause  luve  to  me. 

My  mother  tauld  me  when  I  was  young, 
That  young  man's  love  was  ill  to  trow ; 

But  untill  her  I  would  give  nae  ear,  is 

And  alace  my  ain  wand  dings  me  now ! 

0  wherefore  need  I  busk  my  head  ? 

O  wherefore  should  I  kaim  my  hair  ? 
For  my  good  lord  has  me  forsook, 

And  says  he'll  never  love  me  mair.  20 

Gin  I  had  wist  or  I  had  kisst 

That  young  man's  love  was  sae  ill  to  win, 

1  would  hae  lockt  my  hert  wi'  a  key  o'  gowd, 

And  pinn'd  it  wi'  a  siller  pin. 

An  I  had  kent  what  I  ken  now,  25 

I'd  never  crosst  the  water  Tay, 
But  stayed  still  at  Athole's  gates  ; — 

He  would  have  made  me  his  lady  gay. 

When  lords  and  lairds  cam  to  this  toun, 

And  gentlemen  o'  a  high  degree,  x 

I  took  my  auld  son  in  my  arms, 

And  went  to  my  chamber  pleasantlie. 


138  LORD    JAMIE    DOUGLAS. 

But  when  lords  and  lairds  come  through  this 
toun, 

And  gentlemen  o'  a  high  degree, 
I  must  sit  alane  intill  the  dark,  ss 

And  the  babie  on  the  nurse's  knee. 

I  had  a  nurse,  and  she  was  fair ; 

She  was  a  dearly  nurse  to  me ; 
She  took  my  gay  lord  frae  my  side, 

And  used  him  in  her  companie.  « 

Awa,  awa,  thou  fause  Blackwood, 

Aye,  and  an  ill  death  may  thou  die  ! 
-  Thou  wert  the  first  and  occasion  last 
Of  parting  my  gay  lord  and  me. 

When  I  lay  sick,  and  very  sick,  « 

Sick  I  was  and  like  to  die, 
A  gentleman,  a  friend  of  mine, 

He  came  on  purpose  to  visit  me ; 
But  Blackwood  whisper'd  in  my  lord's  ear 

He  was  ower  lang  in  chamber  with  me.       w 

When  I  was  sick,  and  very  sick, 

Sick  I  was  and  like  to  die, 
I  drew  me  near  to  my  stairhead, 

And  I  heard  my  ain  lord  lichtly  me. 

33,  cam. 


LORD    JAMIE   DOUGLAS.  139 

"  Come  down,  come  down,  0  Jamie  Douglas,  M 
And  drink  the  orange  wine  with  me  ; 

I'll  set  thee  on  a  chair  of  gold, 

And  daut  thee  kindly  on  my  knee." 

"  When  sea  and  sand  turn  far  inland, 

And  mussels  grow  on  ilka  tree,  so 

When  cockle  shells  turn  siller  bells, 
I'll  drink  the  orange  wine  wi'  thee." 

"  What  ails  you  at  our  youngest  son, 

That  sits  upon  the  nurse's  knee  ? 
I'm  sure  he's  never  done  any  harm,  65 

An  it's  not  to  his  ain  nurse  and  me." 

If  I  had  kent  what  I  ken  now, 

That  love  it  was  sae  ill  to  win, 
I  should  ne'er  hae  wet  my  cherry  cheek 

For  onie  man  or  woman's  son.  ro 

When  my  father  came  to  hear 

That  my  gay  lord  had  forsaken  me, 

He  sent  five  score  of  his  soldiers  bright 
To  take  me  safe  to  my  ain  countrie. 

Up  in  the  mornin*  when  I  arose,  x 

My  bonnie  palace  for  to  lea', 
I  whispered  in  at  my  lord's  window, 

But  the  never  a  word  he  would  answer  me. 


140  LORD    JAMIE    DOUGLAS. 

"  Fare  ye  weel,  then,  Jamie  Douglas, 

I  need  care  as  little  as  ye  care  for  me ;        so 

The  Earl  of  Mar  is  my  father  dear, 
And  I  soon  will  see  my  ain  countrie. 

u  Ye  thought  that  I  was  like  yoursell, 

And  loving  ilk  ane  I  did  see ; 
But  here  I  swear  by  the  heavens  clear,  as 

I  never  loved  a  man  but  thee." 

Slowly,  slowly  rose  I  up, 

And  slowly,  slowly  I  cam  down ; 

And  when  he  saw  me  sit  in  my  coach, 

He  made  his  drums  and  trumpets  sound.      90 

When  I  into  my  coach  was  set, 

My  tenants  all  were  with  me  tane ; 

They  set  them  down  upon  their  knees, 
And  they  begg'd  me  to  come  back  again. 

It's  "  fare  ye  weel,  my  bonnie  palace  ;  as 

And  fare  ye  weel,  my  children  three : 

God  grant  your  father  may  get  mair  grace, 
And  love  thee  better  than  he  has  done  me." 

It's  "  fare  ye  weel,  my  servants  all ; 

And  you,  my  bonnie  children  three :  100 

God  grant  your  father  grace  to  be  kind 

Till  I  see  you  safe  in  my  ain  countrie. 


LORD    JAMIE    DOUGLAS.  141 

"  But  wae  be  to  you,  fause  Blackwood, 

Aye,  and  ill  death  may  you  die  ! 
Ye  are  the  first,  and  I  hope  the  last,  105 

That  put  strife  between  my  good  lord  and 


When  I  came  in  through  Edinburgh  town, 
My  loving  father  came  to  meet  me, 

With  trumpets  sounding  on  every  side ; 

But  it  was  no  comfort  at  all  to  me  :  110 

For  no  mirth  nor  music  sounds  in  my  ear, 
Since  the  Earl  of  March  has  forsaken  me. 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  my  daughter  dear, 
And  of  your  weeping  pray  let  abee ; 

For  I'll  send  to  him  a  bill  of  divorce,  iu 

And  I'll  get  as  good  a  lord  to  thee." 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  my  father  dear, 
And  of  your  scoffing  pray  let  abee ; 

I  would  rather  hae  a  kiss  of  my  ain  lord's  mouth 
As  all  the  lords  in  the  north  countrie."        120 

When  she  came  to  her  father's  land, 

The  tenants  a'  cam  her  to  see ; 
Never  a  word  she  could  speak  to  them, 

But  the  buttons  aff  her  clothes  did  flee. 

124.  See  Andrew  Lammie,  vol.  ii.  191. 


142  LORD    JAMIE    DOUGLAS. 

"  The  linnet  is  a  bonnie  bird, 
And  aften  flees  far  frae  its  nest ; 

So  all  the  world  may  plainly  see 
They  're  far  awa  that  I  love  best ! " 

She  looked  out  at  her  father's  window, 
To  take  a  view  of  the  countrie ; 

Who  did  she  see  but  Jamie  Douglas, 
And  along  with  him  her  children  three. 


o 


There  came  a  soldier  to  the  gate, 
And  he  did  knock  right  hastilie  : 

"If  Lady  Douglas  be  within, 

Bid  her  come  down  and  speak  to  me." 

"  0  come  away,  my  lady  fair, 

Come  away,  now,  alang  with  me : 

For  I  have  hanged  fause  Black  wood 

At  the  very  place  where  he  told  the  lie." 


THE  NUTBROWNE  MAIDE. 

WF  owe  the  preservation  of  this  beautiful  old  ballad 
to  Arnold's  Chronicle,  of  which  the  earliest  edition  is 
thought  to  have  been  printed  in  1502.  In  Laneham's 
account  of  Elizabeth's  visit  to  Kenilworth,  the  Nut- 
brown  Maid  is  mentioned  as  a  book  by  itself,  and  there 
is  said  to  be  at  Oxford  a  list  of  books  offered  for  sale 
at  that  place  in  1520,  among  which  is  the  Not-Broon 
Mayd,  price  one  penny ;  still,  the  ballad  is  not  known 
to  exist  at  present  in  any  other  ancient  form  than  that 
of  the  Chronicle.  We  have  no  means  of  determining 
the  date  of  the  composition,  but  Percy  has  justly  re 
marked  that  it  is  not  probable  that  an  antiquary  would 
have  inserted  a  piece  in  his  historical  collections  which 
he  knew  to  be  modern.  The  language  is  that  of  the 
time  at  which  it  was  printed. 

The  ballad  seems  to  have  been  long  forgotten,  when 
it  was  revived  in  The  Muse's  Mercury  for  June,  1707, 
(Percy.)  There  Prior  met  with  it.  and,  charmed  with 
its  merit,  he  took  the  story  for  the  foundation  of  his 
Henry  and  Emma.  Capel,  in  1760,  published  a  collat 
ed  text  from  two  different  editions  of  the  Chronicle, — 
we  suppose  that  of  1502,  and  the  second,  which  was 
printed  in  1521,  and  exhibits  some  differences.  Percy 
adopted  Capel's  text  with  a  few  alterations,  (Reliques, 
ii.  30.)  The  text  of  the  edition  of  1502  has  been 
twice  reprinted  since  Percy's  time :  in  the  Censura 


144  THE    NUTBROWNE    MAIDE. 

Literaria,  vol.  i.  p.  15,  and  by  Mr.  Wright,  in  a  little 
black-letter  volume,  London,  1836.  We  have  adopted 
Mr.  Wright's  text,  not  neglecting  to  compare  it  with 
that  of  Sir  Egerton  Brydges. 

It  will  be  interesting  to  compare  with  this  matchless 
poem  a  ballad  in  other  languages,  which  has  the  same 
drift ;  —  Die  Lind  im  Thale,  or  Liebesprot/e,  Erk, 
Deutscher  Liederhort,  p.  1,  3  ;  Uhland,  No.  116  ;  Hoft- 
inann,  Schlesische  V.  L.,  No.  22,  Niederlandisclie  V. 
L.,  No.  26 ;  Haupt  and  Schmaler,  V-  L.  der  Wenden, 
i.  72  (Hoffmann). 

In  the  sixteenth  century  a  ridiculous  attempt  was 
made  to  supplant  the  popular  ballads  in  the  mouths 
and  affections  of  the  people  by  turning  them  into 
pious  parodies.  The  Nut-Brown  Maid  was  treated  in 
this  way,  and  the  result  may  be  seen  in  The  New  Not- 
borune  Mayd,  printed  by  the  Eoxburghe  Club,  and 
by  the  Percy  Society,  vol.  vi. 

"  BE  it  right  or  wrong,  these  men  among 

On  women  do  complaine, 
Affermyng  this,  how  that  it  is 

A  labour  spent  in  vaine 
To  love  them  wele,  for  never  a  dele  & 

They  love  a  man  agayne  : 
For  lete  a  man  do  what  he  can 

Ther  favour  to  attayne, 
Yet  yf  a  newe  do  them  pursue, 

Ther  furst  trew  lover  than  10 

Laboureth  for  nought,  and  from  her  thought 

He  is  a  bannished  man." 
9,  to. 


THE    NUTBROWNE    MAIDE.  145 

"  I  say  not  nay,  but  that  all  day 

It  is  bothe  writ  and  sayde, 
That  womans  fayth  is,  as  who  sayth,  u 

All  utterly  decayed : 
But  nevertheles,  right  good  witnes 

In  this  case  might  be  layde, 
That  they  love  trewe,  and  contynew, — 

Recorde  THE  NUTBROWNE  MAIDE  ;  20 

Whiche  from  her  love,  whan  her  to  prove 

He  cam  to  make  his  mone, 
Wolde  not  departe,  for  in  her  herte 

She  lovyd  but  hym  allone." 

"  Than  betwene  us  lete  us  discusse  a« 

What  was  all  the  maner 
Betwene  them  too  ;  we  wyl  also 

Telle  all  the  peyne  and  fere 
That  she  was  in ;  nowe  I  begynne, 

See  that  ye  me  answere  :  so 

Wherfore  [all]  ye  that  present  be, 

I  pray  you  geve  an  eare. 
I  am  the  knyght,  I  cum  be  nyght, 

As  secret  as  I  can, 
Sayng  « Alas !  thus  stondyth  the  case,  as 

I  am  a  bannisshed  man  ! ' " 

"  And  I  your  wylle  for  to  fulfylle 
In  this  wyl  not  refuse, 

28,  they.  30,  Soe.  35,  cause. 

VOL.  IV.  10 


146  THE    NUTBROWNE    MAIDE. 

Trusting  to  she  we,  in  wordis  fewe, 

That  men  have  an  ille  use,  « 

To  ther  owne  shame,  wymen  to  blame, 

And  causeles  them  accuse : 
Therfore  to  you  I  answere  now, 

Alle  wymen  to  excuse, 
1  Myn  owne  hert  dere,  with  you  what  chiere  ?    45 

I  prey  you  telle  anoon : 
For  in  my  mynde,  of  all  mankynde 

I  love  but  you  allon.'  " 

"  It  stondith  so  :  a  deed  is  do 

Wherof  moche  harme  shal  growe.  a> 

My  desteny  is  for  to  dey 

A  shamful  dethe,  I  trowe, 
Or  ellis  to  flee, — the  ton  must  be  : 

None  other  wey  I  knowe, 
But  to  withdrawe  as  an  outlaw,  ss 

And  take  me  to  my  bowe. 
Wherfore,  adew,  my  owne  hert  trewe, 

None  other  red  I  can  ; 
For  I  muste  to  the  grene  wode  goo, 

Alone,  a  bannysshed  man."  so 

"  O  Lorde,  what  is  this  worldis  blisse 

That  chaungeth  as  the  mone  ! 
My  somers  day  in  lusty  May 

Is  derked  before  the  none. 

50.  Wherfore. 


THE    NUTBROWNE    MAIDE.  147 

I  here  you  saye  Farwel :  nay,  nay,  « 

We  departe  not  soo  sone. 
Why  say  ye  so  ?     Wheder  wyl  ye  goo  ? 

Alas,  what  have  ye  done  ? 
Alle  my  welfare  to  sorow  and  care 

Shulde  chaunge,  yf  ye  were  gon :  ro 

For  in  my  mynde,  of  all  mankynde 

I  love  but  you  alone." 

"  I  can  beleve  it  shal  you  greve, 

And  somewhat  you  distrayne  ; 
But  aftyrwarde  your  paynes  harde,  w 

Within  a  day  or  tweyne, 
Shal  sone  aslake,  and  ye  shal  take 

Confort  to  you  agayne. 
Why  shuld  ye  nought  ?  for,  to  make  thought 

Your  labur  were  in  vayne  :  so 

And  thus  I  do,  and  pray  you,  too, 

As  hertely  as  I  can  : 
For  I  muste  too  the  grene  wode  goo, 

Alone,  a  banysshed  man." 

"  Now  syth  that  ye  have  shewed  to  me  ss 

The  secret  of  your  mynde, 
I  shal  be  playne  to  you  agayne, 

Lyke  as  ye  shal  me  fynde : 
Syth  it  is  so  that  ye  wyll  goo, 

I  wol  not  leve  behynde  ;  90 

Shal  never  be  sayd  the  Nutbrowne  Mayd 

Was  to  her  love  unkind. 


148  THE    NUTBROWNE    MAIDE. 

Make  you  redy,  for  soo  am  I, 

All  though  it  were  anoon  ; 
For  in  my  mynde,  of  all  mankynde  95 

I  love  but  you  alone." 

"  Yet  I  you  rede  to  take  good  hede 

What  men  wyl  thinke  and  sey  ; 
Of  yonge  and  olde  it  shal  be  told, 

That  ye  be  gone  away  wo 

Your  wanton  wylle  for  to  fulfylle, 

In  grene  wood  you  to  play ; 
And  that  ye  myght  from  your  delyte 

Noo  lenger  make  delay. 
Rather  than  ye  shuld  thus  for  me  ios 

Be  called  an  ylle  woman, 
Yet  wolde  I  to  the  grene  wodde  goo 

Alone,  a  banysshed  man." 

"  Though  it  be  songe  of  olde  and  yonge 

That  I  shuld  be  to  blame,  uo 

Theirs  be  the  charge  that  speke  so  large 

In  hurting  of  my  name. 
For  I  wyl  prove  that  feythful  love 

It  is  devoyd  of  shame, 
In  your  distresse  and  hevynesse,  uc 

To  parte  wyth  you  the  same ; 
And  sure  all  thoo  that  doo  not  so, 

v.  98,  Whan. 


THE    NUTBROWNE    MAIDE.  149 

Trewe  lovers  ar  they  noon  ; 
But  in  my  mynde,  of  all  mankynde 

I  love  but  you  alone."  120 

"  I  counsel  yow  remembre  how 

It  is  noo  may  dens  lawe, 
Nothing  to  dought,  but  to  rerme  out 

To  wod  with  an  outlawe. 
For  ye  must  there  in  your  hande  bere  120 

A  bowe  to  bere  and  drawe, 
And  as  a  theef  thus  must  ye  lyeve, 

Ever  in  drede  and  awe  ; 
By  whiche  to  yow  gret  harme  myght  grow ; — 

Yet  had  I  lever  than  iso 

That  I  had  too  the  grenewod  goo 

Alone,  a  banysshyd  man." 

"  I  thinke  not  nay ;  but,  as  ye  saye, 

It  is  noo  maydens  lore ; 
But  love  may  make  me  for  your  sake,  isc 

As  ye  have  said  before, 
To  com  on  fote,  to  hunte  and  shote 

To  gete  us  mete  and  store ; 
For  soo  that  I  your  company 

May  have,  I  aske  noo  more ;  i» 

From  whiche  to  parte,  it  makith  myn  herte 

As  colde  as  ony  ston  : 
For  in  my  mynde,  of  all  mankynde 

I  love  but  you  alone." 


150  THE    NUTBROWNE    MAIDE. 

"  For  an  outlawe  this  is  the  lawe,        .  m 

That  men  hym  take  and  binde, 
Without  pytee  hanged  to  bee, 

And  waver  with  the  wynde. 
Yf  I  had  neede,  as  God  forbede, 

What  rescous  coude  ye  finde  ?  m 

For  sothe,  I  trowe,  you  and  your  bowe 

Shuld  drawe  for  fere  behynde  : 
And  noo  merveyle ;  for  lytel  avayle 

Were  in  your  councel  than  ; 
Wherfore  I  too  the  woode  wyl  goo  i« 

Alone,  a  banysshed  man." 

"  Ful  wel  knowe  ye  that  wymen  bee 

Ful  febyl  for  to  fyght ; 
Noo  womanhed  is  it  indeede, 

To  bee  bolde  as  a  knight.  ieo 

Yet  in  suche  fere  yf  that  ye  were, 

Amonge  enemys  day  and  nyght, 
I  wolde  wythstonde,  with  bowe  in  hande, 

To  greeve  them  as  I  myght, 
And  you  to  save,  as  wymen  have,  i« 

From  deth  many  one  : 
For  in  my  mynde,  of  all  mankynde 

I  love  but  you  alone." 

"  Yet  take  good  hede ;  for  ever  I  drede 

That  ye  coude  not  sustein  ITO 

The  thorney  wayes,  the  depe  valeis, 
The  snowe,  the  frost,  the  reyn, 
v.  152,  Shul. 


THE    NUTBROWNE    MAIDE.  151 

The  colde,  the  hete  ;  for,  drye  or  wete, 

We  must  lodge  on  the  playn ; 
And  us  aboove  noon  other  rove  tf» 

But  a  brake  bussh  or  twayne ; 
Whiche  sone  shulde  greve  you,  I  beleve, 

And  ye  wolde  gladly  than 
That  I  had  too  the  grenewode  goo 

Alone,  a  banysshyd  man."  i» 

"  Syth  I  have  here  been  partynere 

With  you  of  joy  and  blysse, 
I  must  also  parte  of  your  woo 

Endure,  as  reason  is ; 
Yet  am  I  sure  of  oo  plesure,  i» 

And  shortly,  it  is  this  ; 
That  where  ye  bee,  mesemeth,  perde", 

I  coude  not  fare  amysse. 
Wythout  more  speche,  I  you  beseche 

That  we  were  soon  agone ;  i» 

For  in  my  mynde,  of  all  mankynde 

I  love  but  you  alone." 

"  Yf  ye  goo  thedyr,  ye  must  consider, 

Whan  ye  have  lust  to  dyne, 
Ther  shel  no  mete  be  fore  to  gete,  i* 

Nor  drinke,  bere,  ale,  ne  wine ; 
Ne  shetis  dene  to  lye  betwene, 

Made  of  thred  and  twyne  : 
Noon  other  house  but  levys  and  bowes 

To  kever  your  hed  and  myn.  200 

200,  bed,  Wright. 


152  THE    NUTBROWNE    MAIDE. 

Loo,  myn  herte  swete,  this  ylle  dyet 

Shuld  make  you  pale  and  wan : 
Wherfore  I  to  the  wood  wyl  goo 

Alone,  a  banysshid  man." 

"  Amonge  the  wylde  dere  suche  an  archier     aor» 

As  men  say  that  ye  bee 
Ne  may  not  fayle  of  good  vitayle, 

Where  is  so  grete  plente  ; 
And  watir  cleere  of  the  ryvere 

Shal  be  ful  swete  to  me,  210 

Wyth  whiche  in  hele  I  shal  right  wele 

Endure,  as  ye  shall  see  : 
And  er  we  go,  a  bed  or  too 

I  can  provide  anoon  ; 
For  in  my  mynde,  of  all  mankynde  215 

I  love  but  you  alone." 

.    "  Loo,  yet  before,  ye  must  doo  more, 

Yf  ye  wyl  goo  with  me, 
As  cutte  your  here  up  by  your  ere, 

Your  kirtel  by  the  knee  ;  a» 

Wyth  bowe  in  hande,  for  to  withstonde 

Your  enmys,  yf  nede  bee ; 
And  this  same  nyght,  before  daylight, 

To  woodward  wyl  I  flee ; 
And  [if]  ye  wyl  all  this  fulfyUe,  235 

Doo  it  shortely  as  ye  can  : 
Ellis  wil  I  to  the  grene  wode  goo 

Alone,  a  banysshyd  man." 


THE   NUTBROWNE    MAIDE.  153 

"  I  shal  as  now  do  more  for  you 

Than  longeth  to  womanhede,  230 

To  short  my  here,  a  bowe  to  bere, 

To  shote  in  tyme  of  nede  : 
O  my  swete  moder,  before  all  other, 

For  you  have  I  most  drede  ! 
But  now,  adiew !  I  must  ensue  235 

Wher  fortune  duth  me  leede. 
All  this  make  ye  ;  now  lete  us  flee ; 

The  day  cums  fast  upon  ; 
For  in  my  mynde,  of  all  mankynde 

I  love  but  you  alone."  340 

"  Nay,  nay,  not  soo ;  ye  shal  not  goo ; 

And  I  shal  telle  you  why ; 
Your  appetyte  is  to  be  lyght 

Of  love,  I  wele  aspie : 
For  right  as  ye  have  sayd  to  me,  zu 

In  lyke  wyse,  hardely, 
Ye  wolde  answere,  who  so  ever  it  were, 

In  way  of  company. 
It  is  sayd  of  olde,  sone  hote,  sone  colde, 

And  so  is  a  woman  ;  250 

Wherfore  I  too  the  woode  wyl  goo 

Alone,  a  banysshid  man." 

"  Yef  ye  take  hede,  yt  is  noo  nede 
Suche  wordis  to  say  bee  me  ; 

v.  230,  That,  womanhod .        238,  cum.        v.  253,  yet  is. 


154  THE    NUTBROWNE    MAIDE. 

For  ofte  ye  preyd,  and  longe  assayed, 

Or  I  you  lovid,  perde. 
And  though  that  I  of  auncestry 

A  barons  doughter  bee, 
Yet  have  you  proved  how  I  you  loved, 

A  squyer  of  lowe  degree  ; 
And  ever  shal,  what  so  befalle, 

To  dey  therfore  anoon ; 
For  in  my  mynde,  of  al  mankynde 

I  love  but  you  alone." 

"  A  barons  childe  to  be  begyled, 

It  were  a  curssed  dede  ! 
To  be  felow  with  an  outlawe, 

Almyghty  God  forbede  ! 
Yet  bettyr  were  the  power  squyer 

Alone  to  forest  yede, 
Than  ye  shal  saye  another  day, 

That  be  [my]  wyked  dede 
Ye  were  betrayed  ;  wherfore,  good  maide, 

The  best  red  that  I  can 
Is  that  I  too  the  greene  wode  goo 

Alone,  a  banysshed  man." 

"  Whatsoever  befalle,  I  never  shal 

Of  this  thing  you  upbraid  ; 
But  yf  ye  goo,  and  leve  me  soo, 

Than  have  ye  me  betraied. 
Remembre  you  wele,  how  that  ye  dele, 

For  yf  ye,  as  ye  sayde, 


THE   NUTBROWNE    MAIDE.  155 

Be  so  unkynde  to  leve  behynd 
Your  love,  the  Notbrowne  Maide, 

Trust  me  truly,  that  I  shal  dey,  &> 

Sone  after  ye  be  gone ; 

For  in  my  mynde,  of  all  mankynde 
I  love  but  you  alone." 

"  Yef  that  ye  went,  ye  shulde  repent, 

For  in  the  forest  now  290 

I  have  purveid  me  of  a  maide, 

Whom  I  love  more  than  you  : 
Another  fayrer  than  ever  ye  were, 

I  dare  it  wel  avowe ; 
And  of  you  bothe  eche  shulde  be  wrothe        295 

With  other,  as  I  trowe. 
It  were  myn  ease  to  ly ve  in  pease ; 

So  wyl  I,  yf  I  can ; 
Wherfore  I  to  the  wode  wyl  goo 

Alone,  a  banysshid  man."  soo 

"  Though  in  the  wood  I  undirstode 

Ye  had  a  paramour, 
All  this  may  nought  remeve  my  thought, 

But  that  I  wil  be  your ; 
And  she  shal  fynde  me  softe  and  kynde,         soe 

And  curteis  every  our, 
Glad  to  fulfylle  all  that  she  wylle 

Commaunde  me,  to  my  power ; 
For  had  ye,  loo,  an  hundred  moo, 

v.  310,  Of  them  I  wolde  be  one.     Percy  MS. 


156  THE   NUTBROWNE   MAIDE. 

Yet  wolde  I  be  that  one. 
For  in  my  mynde,  of  all  mankynde 
I  love  but  you  alone." 

"  Myn  oune  dere  love,  I  see  the  prove 

That  ye  be  kynde  and  trewe  ; 
Of  mayde  and  wyf,  in  all  my  lyf, 

The  best  that  ever  I  knewe. 
Be  mery  and  glad,  be  no  more  sad, 

The  case  is  chaunged  newe ; 
For  it  were  ruthe  that  for  your  trouth 

You  shuld  have  cause  to  rewe. 
Be  not  dismayed  :  whatsoever  I  sayd 

To  you  whan  I  began, 
I  wyl  not  too  the  grene  wod  goo  ; 

I  am  noo  banysshyd  man." 

"  Theis  tidingis  be  more  glad  to  me 

Than  to  be  made  a  quene, 
Yf  I  were  sure  they  shuld  endure  ; 

But  it  is  often  seen, 
When  men  wyl  breke  promyse,  they  speke 

The  wordis  on  the  splene. 
Ye  shape  some  wyle  me  to  begyle, 

And  stele  fro  me,  I  wene ; 
Then  were  the  case  wurs  than  it  was, 

And  I  more  woo-begone  ; 
For  in  my  mynde,  of  all  mankynde 

I  love  but  you  alone." 


THE   NUTBROWNE   MAIDE.  157 

"  Ye  shal  not  nede  further  to  drede  : 

I  wyl  not  disparage 
You,  God  defende  !  sith  you  descende 

Of  so  grete  a  lynage.  «o 

Nou  understonde,  to  Westmerlande, 

Which  is  my  herytage, 
I  wyl  you  bringe,  and  wyth  a  rynge, 

Be  wey  of  maryage, 
I  wyl  you  take,  and  lady  make,  s« 

As  shortly  as  I  can  : 
Thus  have  ye  wone  an  erles  son, 

And  not  a  banysshyd  man." 

Here  may  ye  see,  that  wymen  be 

In  love  meke,  kinde,  and  stable  :  sso 

Late  never  man  repreve  them  than, 

Or  calle  them  variable  ; 
But  rather  prey  God  that  we  may 

To  them  be  comfortable, 
Whiche  somtyme  provyth  suche  as  loveth,      x& 

Yf  they  be  charitable. 
For  sith  men  wolde  that  wymen  sholde 

Be  meke  to  them  echeon, 
Moche  more  ought  they  to  God  obey, 

And  serve  but  hym  alone.  ^ 


THE  BAILIFFS  DAUGHTER  OF  ISLINGTON. 


FROM  Reliques  of  Ancient  English  Poetry,  iii.  177. 
Another  copy  is  in  Ritson's  Ancient  Songs,  ii.  134. 

"  From  an  ancient  black-letter  copy  in  the  Pepys 
collection,  with  some  improvements  communicated  by 
a  lady  as  she  had  heard  the  same  recited  in  her 
youth.  The  full  title  is,  True  love  requited:  Or,  the 
Bailiff's  daughter  of  Islington:'— PERCY. 


THERE  was  a  youthe,  and  a  well-beloved  youthe, 

And  he  was  a  squires  son : 
He  loved  the  bayliffes  daughter  deare, 

That  lived  in  Islington. 

Yet  she  was  coye,  and  would  not  believe  s 

That  he  did  love  her  soe, 
Noe  nor  at  any  time  would  she 

Any  countenance  to  him  showe. 

But  when  his  friendes  did  understand 

His  fond  and  foolish  minde,  10 

They  sent  him  up  to  faire  London, 
AJI  apprentice  for  to  binde. 


THE  BAILIFF'S  DAUGHTER  OF  ISLINGTON.  159 

And  when  he  had  been  seven  long  yeares, 

And  never  his  love  could  see, — 
"  Many  a  teare  have  I  shed  for  her  sake,  is 

When  she  little  thought  of  mee." 

Then  all  the  maids  of  Islington 

Went  forth  to  sport  and  playe, 
All  but  the  bayliffes  daughter  deare ; 

She  secretly  stole  awaye.  20 

She  pulled  off  her  gowne  of  greene, 

And  put  on  ragged  attire, 
And  to  faire  London  she  would  go, 

Her  true  love  to  enquire. 

And  as  she  went  along  the  high  road,  25 

The  weather  being  hot  and  drye, 
She  sat  her  downe  upon  a  green  bank, 

And  her  true  love  came  riding  bye. 

She  started  up,  with  a  colour  soe  redd, 

Catching  hold  of  his  bridle-reine  ;  so 

"  One  penny,  one  penny,  kind  sir,"  she  sayd, 
"  Will  ease  me  of  much  paine." 

"  Before  I  give  you  one  penny,  sweet-heart, 
Praye  tell  me  where  you  were  borne." 

"  At  Islington,  kind  sir,"  sayd  shee,  & 

"  Where  I  have  had  many  a  scorne." 


160  THE  BAILIFF'S  DAUGHTER  OF  ISLINGTON. 

"  I  prythee,  sweet-heart,  then  tell  to  mee, 

O  tell  me,  whether  you  knowe 
The  bayliffes  daughter  of  Islington." 

"  She  is  dead,  sir  long  agoe." 

"  If  she  be  dead,  then  take  my  horse, 

My  saddle  and  bridle  also  ; 
For  I  will  into  some  farr  countrye, 

Where  noe  man  shall  me  knowe." 

"  0  staye,  O  staye,  thou  goodlye  youthe, 

She  standeth  by  thy  side ; 
She  is  here  alive,  she  is  not  dead, 

And  readye  to  be  thy  bride." 

"  O  farewell  griefe,  and  welcome  joye, 

Ten  thousand  times  therefore  ; 
For  no  we  I  have  founde  mine  owne  true  love, 

Whom  I  thought  I  should  never  see  more." 


THE  BLIND  BEGGAR'S  DAUGHTER  OF 
BEDNALL  GREEN. 


THE  copy  here  given  of  this  favorite  popular  ballad 
is  derived  from  Ancient  Poems,  Ballads,  and  Songs 
of  the  Peasantry  of  England,  Percy  Society,  xvii.  60. 
It  is  there  printed  from  a  modern  broadside, "  care 
fully  collated  "  with  a  copy  in  the  Bagford  collection. 
In  Percy's  edition,  (Reliques,  ii.  171,)  besides  many 
trivial  emendations,  eight  modern  stanzas  (said  to  be 
the  work  of  Robert  Dodsley)  are  substituted  for  the 
first  five  of  the  Beggar's  second  song,  "  to  remove  ab 
surdities  and  inconsistencies,"  and  to  reconcile  the 
story  to  probability  and  true  history  !  The  copy  in  A 
Collection  of  Old  Ballads,  ii.  202,  is  not  very  different 
from  the  present,  and  the  few  changes  that  have  been 
made  in  the  text  selected,  unless  otherwise  accounted 
for,  are  adopted  from  that. 

"Pepys,  in  his  diary,  25th  June,  1663,  speaks  of 
going  with  Sir  William  and  Lady  Batten,  and  Sir  J. 
Minnes,  to  Sir  W.  Rider's  at  Bednall  Green,  to  din 
ner,  *  a  fine  place  ; '  and  adds,  '  This  very  house  was 
built  by  the  Blind  Beggar  of  Bednall  Green,  so  much 
talked  of  and  sung  in  ballads ;  but  they  say  it  was 
only  some  outhouses  of  it.' "  CHAPPELL,  Popular 
Music  of  the  Olden  Time,  p.  159. 

VOL.   IV.  11 


162    THE  BLIND  BEGGAR'S  DAUGHTER 

THIS  song's  of  a  beggar  who  long  lost  his  sight, 
And  had  a  fair  daughter,  most  pleasant  and  bright ; 
And  many  a  gallant  brave  suitor  had  she, 
And  none  was  so  comely  as  pretty  Bessee. 

And  though  she  was  of  complexion  most  fair,      s 
Yet  seeing  she  was  but  a  beggar  his  heir, 
Of  ancient  housekeepers  despised  was  she, 
Whose  sons  came  as  suitors  to  pretty  Bessee. 

Wherefore  in  great  sorrow  fair  Bessee  did  say, 
"  Good  father  and  mother,  let  me  now  go  away,  10 
To  seek  out  my  fortune,  whatever  it  be  ;  " 
This  suit  then  was  granted  to  pretty  Bessee. 

This  Bessee,  that  was  of  a  beauty  most  bright, 
They  clad  in  gray  russet,  and  late  in  the  night 
From  father  and  mother  alone  parted  she,  is 

Who  sighed  and  sobbed  for  pretty  Bessee. 

She  went  till  she  came  to  Stratford-at-Bow, 
Then  she  knew  not  whither  or  which  way  to  go ; 
With  tears  she  lamented  her  sad  destiny, 
So  sad  and  so  heavy  was  pretty  Bessee.  20 

She  kept  on  her  journey  until  it  was  day, 
And  went  unto  Rumford  along  the  highway ; 
And  at  the  King's  Arms  entertained  was  she, 
So  fair  and  well-favoured  was  pretty  Bessee. 
6.    And  seeing. 


OF   BEDNALL    GREEN.  163 

She  had  not  been  there  one  month  at  an  end,      25 
But  master  and  mistress  and  all  was  her  friend  ; 
And  every  brave  gallant  that  once  did  her  see 
Was  straightway  in  love  with  pretty  Bessee. 

Great  gifts  they  did  send  her  of  silver  and  gold, 
And  in  their  songs  daily  her  love  they  extoll'd  ;  w 
Her  beauty  was  blazed  in  every  degree, 
So  fair  and  so  comely  was  pretty  Bessee. 

The  young  men  of  Rumford  in  her  had  their  joy ; 
She  shewed  herself  courteous,  but  never  too  coy, 
And  at  their  commandment  still  she  would  be,     35 
So  fair  and  so  comely  was  pretty  Bessee. 

Four  suitors  at  once  unto  her  did  go, 
They  craved  her  favour,  but  still  she  said  no  ; 
"  I  would  not  have  gentlemen  marry  with  me," — 
Yet  ever  they  honoured  pretty  Bessee.  40 

Now  one  of  them  was  a  gallant  young  knight, 
And  he  came  unto  her  disguised  in  the  night ; 
The  second,  a  gentleman  of  high  degree, 
Who  wooed  and  sued  for  pretty  Bessee. 

A  merchant  of  London,  whose  wealth  was  not 
small,  « 

Was  then  the  third  suitor,  and  proper  withal ; 
Her  master's  own  son  the  fourth  man  must  be, 
Who  swore  he  would  die  for  pretty  Bessee. 


164    THE  BLIND  BEGGAR'S  DAUGHTER 

"If  that   thou  wilt  marry  with  me,"  quoth  the 

knight, 

"  I'll  make  thee  a  lady  with  joy  and  delight ;       so 
My  heart  is  enthralled  in  thy  fair  beauty, 
Then  grant  me  thy  favour,  my  pretty  Bessee." 

The  gentleman  said,  "  Come  marry  with  me, 
In  silks  and  in  velvets  my  Bessee  shall  be  ; 
My  heart  lies  distracted,  oh  hear  me ! "  quoth  he,  55 
"And  grant  me  thy  love,  my  dear  pretty  Bessee." 

"  Let  me  be  thy  husband,"  the  merchant  did  say, 
"  Thou  shalt  live  in  London  most  gallant  and  gay ; 
My  ships  shall  bring  home  rich  jewels  for  thee, 
And  I  will  for  ever  love  pretty  Bessee."  eo 

Then  Bessee  she  sighed,  and  thus  she  did  say ; 
"  My  father  and  mother  I  mean  to  obey ; 
First  get  their  goodwill,  and  be  faithful  to  me, 
And  you  shall  enjoy  your  dear  pretty  Bessee." 

To  every  one  of  them  that  answer  she  made ;     es 

Therefore  unto  her  they  joyfully  said, 

"  This  thing  to  fulfill  we  all  now  agree  ; 

But  where  dwells  thy  father,  my  pretty  Bessee  ?  " 

"  My  father,"  quoth  she,  "  is  soon  to  be  seen  ; 
The  silly  blind  beggar  of  Bednall  Green,  70 

That  -daily  sits  begging  for  charity, 
He  is  the  kind  father  of  pretty  Bessee. 


OF    BEDNALL    GREEN.  165 

"  His  marks  and  his  token  are  knowen  full  well ; 
He  always  is  led  by  a  dog  and  a  bell ; 
A  poor  silly  old  man,  God  knovveth,  is  he,  « 

Yet  he  is  the  true  father  of  pretty  Bessee." 

"  Nay,  nay,"  quoth  the  merchant,  "  thou  art  not 

for  me ; " 
"  She,"  quoth  the  innholder,  "  my  wife  shall  not 

be;" 

"  I  loathe,"  said  the  gentleman,  "  a  beggars  degree, 
Therefore,  now  farewell,  my  pretty  Bessee."        so 

"  Why  then,"  quoth  the  knight,  «  happ  better  or 

worse, 

I  weigh  not  true  love  by  the  weight  of  the  purse, 
And  beauty  is  beauty  in  every  degree ; 
Then  welcome  to  me,  my  dear  pretty  Bessee. 

"  With  thee  to  thy  father  forthwith  I  will  go."     M 
"  Nay,  forbear,"  quoth  his  kinsman,  "  it  must  not 

be  so : 

A  poor  beggars  daughter  a  lady  sha'nt  be  ; 
Then  take  thy  adieu  of  thy  pretty  Bessee." 

As  soon  then  as  it  was  break  of  the  day, 
The   knight    had   from   Rumford    stole    Bessee 
away ;  90 

The  young  men  of  Rumford,  so  sick  as  may  be, 
Rode  after  to  fetch  again  pretty  Bessee. 
91.    Percy  has  thicke. 


166    THE  BLIND  BEGGAR'S  DAUGHTER 

As  swift  as  the  wind  to  ride  they  were  seen, 
Until  they  came  near  unto  Bednall  Green, 
And  as  the  knight  lighted  most  courteously,         M 
They  fought  against  him  for  pretty  Bessee. 

But  rescue  came  presently  over  the  plain, 
Or  else  the  knight  there  for  his  love  had  been  slain ; 
The  fray  being  ended,  they  straightway  did  see 
His  kinsman  come  railing  at  pretty  Bessee.         100 

Then  bespoke  the  Blind  Beggar,  "Altho'  I  be  poor, 
Rail  not  against  my  child  at  my  own  door ; 
Though  she  be  not  decked  in  velvet  and  pearl, 
Yet  I  will  drop  angels  with  thee  for  my  girl ; 

"  And  then  if  my  gold  should  better  her  birth.  105 
And  equal  the  gold  you  lay  on  the  earth, 
Then  neither  rail  you,  nor  grudge  you  to  see 
The  Blind  Beggars  daughter  a  lady  to  be. 

"  But  first,  I  will  hear,  and  have  it  well  known, 
The  gold  that  you  drop  it  shall  be  all  you  own  ; "  no 
"With  that,"  they  replied,  "contented  we  be  ;" 
"  Then    heres,"    quoth   the    beggar,  "  for   pretty 
Bessee." 

With  that  an  angel  he  dropped  on  the  ground. 
And  dropped,  in  angels,  full  three  thousand  pound  ; 
And  oftentimes  it  proved  most  plain,  us 

For  the  gentlemans  one,  the  beggar  dropped  twain. 


OF    BEDNALL    GREEN.  167 

So  that  the  whole  place  wherein  they  did  sit 
With  gold  was  covered  every  whit ; 
The  gentleman  having  dropt  all  his  store, 
Said,  "  Beggar,  your  hand  hold,  for  I  have  no 
more.  120 

"  Thou  hast  fulfilled  thy  promise  aright ; " 
"  Then  marry  my  girl,"  quoth  he  to  the  knight ; 
"  And  then,"  quoth  he,  "  I  will  throw  you  down, 
An  hundred  pound  more  to  buy  her  a  gown." 

The  gentlemen  all,  who  his  treasure  had  seen,    125 
Admired  the  Beggar  of  Bednall  Green. 
And  those  that  had  been  her  suitors  before, 
Their  tender  flesh  for  anger  they  tore. 

Thus  was  the  fair  Bessee  matched  to  a  knight, 
And  made  a  lady  in  others  despite :  iso 

A  fairer  lady  there  never  was  seen 
Than   the    Blind   Beggars   daughter  of  Bednall 
Green. 

But  of  her  sumptuous  marriage  and  feast, 
And  what  fine  lords  and  ladies  there  prest, 
The  second  part  shall  set  forth  to  your  sight,      i&> 
With  marvellous  pleasure,  and  wished  for  delight 


168          THE    BLIND   BEGGAR'S    DAUGHTER 
PART    II. 

OF  a  blind  beggars  daughter  so  bright, 
That  late  was  betrothed  to  a  young  knight, 
All  the  whole  discourse  therof  you  did  see, 
But  now  comes  the  wedding  of  pretty  Bessee. 

It  was  in  a  gallant  palace  most  brave,  5 

Adorned  with  all  the  cost  they  could  have, 
This  wedding  it  was  kept  most  sumptuously, 
And  all  for  the  love  of  pretty  Bessee. 

And  all  kind  of  dainties  and  delicates  sweet 
Was  brought  to  their  banquet,  as  it  was  thought 
meet ;  10 

Partridge,  and  plover,  and  venison  most  free, 
Against  the  brave  wedding  of  pretty  Bessee, 

The  wedding  thro'  England  was  spread  by  report, 
So  that  a  great  number  thereto  did  resort, 
Of  nobles  and  gentles  of  every  degree,  is 

And  all  for  the  fame  of  pretty  Bessee. 

To  church   then  away  went  this  gallant   young 

knight, 
His  bride  followed  after,  an  angel  most  bright, 

1-4.  This  stanza  is  wrongly  placed  at  the  end  of  the  First 
Part  in  the  copy  from  which  we  reprint.  In  ed.  1723  it  does 
not  occur,  v.  3.  therof  you  did,  Percy,  for,  therefore  you 
may. 


OP   BEDNALL    GREEN.  169 

With  troops  of  ladies,  the  like  was  ne'er  seen, 
As  went  with  sweet  Bessee  of  Bednall  Green.    20 

This  wedding  being  solemnized  then, 
With  music  performed  by  skilfullest  men, 
The  nobles  and  gentles  sat  down  at  that  tide, 
Each  one  beholding  the  beautiful  bride. 

But  after  the  sumptuous  dinner  was  done,  25 

To  talk  and  to  reason  a  number  begun, 
And  of  the  Blind  Beggars  daughter  most  bright, 
And  what  with  his  daughter  he  gave  to  the  knight 

Then  spoke  the  nobles,  "  Much  marvel  have  we 
This  jolly  blind  beggar  we  cannot  yet  see  ! "        so 
"  My  lords,"  quoth  the  bride,  "  my  father  so  base 
Is    loathe    with    his    presence    these    states   to 
disgrace." 

"  The  praise  of  a  woman  in  question  to  bring, 
Before  her  own  face,  is  a  flattering  thing ; 
But  we  think  thy  fathers  baseness,"  quoth  they,  35 
"  Might  by  thy  beauty  be  clean  put  away." 

They  no  sooner  this  pleasant  word  spoke, 

But  in  comes  the  beggar  in  a  silken  cloak, 

A  velvet  cap  and  a  feather  had  he, 

And  now  a  musician,  forsooth,  he  would  be.         *> 

23.    gentlemen  down  at  the  side. 


170    THE  BLIND  BEGGAR'S  DAUGHTER 

And  being  led  in,  from  catching  of  harm, 
He  had  a  dainty  lute  under  his  arm ; 
Said,  "  Please  you  to  hear  any  music  of  me, 
A  song  I  will  give  you  of  pretty  Bessee." 

With  that  his  lute  he  twanged  straightway,          « 
And  thereon  began  most  sweetly  to  play, 
And  after  a  lesson  was  played  two  or  three, 
He  strained  out  this  song  most  delicately : — 

"  A.  beggars  daughter  did  dwell  on  a  green, 

Who  for  her  beauty  might  well  be  a  queen,  so 

A  blythe  bonny  lass,  and  dainty  was  she, 

And  many  one  called  her  pretty  Bessee. 

"  Her  father  he  had  no  goods  nor  no  lands, 
But  begged  for  a  penny  all  day  with  his  hands, 
And  yet  for  her  marriage  gave  thousands  three,    55 
Yet  still  he  hath  somewhat  for  pretty  Bessee. 

"  And  here  if  any  one  do  her  disdain, 

Her  father  is  ready  with  might  and  with  main, 

To  prove  she  is  come  of  noble  degree. 

Therefore  let  none  flout  at  my  pretty  Bessee."       60 

With  that  the  lords  and  the  company  round 
With  a  hearty  laughter  were  ready  to  swound ; 
At  last  said  the  lords,  "  Full  well  we  may  see, 
The  bride  and  the  bridegroom's  beholden  to  thee." 
50.    may. 


OF    BEDNALL    GREEN.  171 

With  that  the  fair  bride  all  blushing  did  rise,       cs 
With  chrystal  water  all  in  her  bright  eyes ; 
"  Pardon  my  father,  brave  nobles,"  quoth  she, 
"  That  through  blind  affection  thus  doats  upon  me." 

"  If  this  be  thy  father,"  the  nobles  did  say, 

"  Well  may  he  be  proud  of  this  happy  day,         TO 

Yet  by  his  countenance  well  may  we  see, 

His  birth  with  his  fortune  could  never  agree. 

"And  therefore,  blind  beggar,  we  pray  thee  bewray, 
And  look  that  the  truth  to  us  thou  dost  say, 
Thy  birth  and  thy  parentage  what  it  may  be,      >s 
E'en  for  the  love  thou  bearest  to  pretty  Bessee." 

"  Then  give  me  leave,  ye  gentles  each  one, 

A  song  more  to  sing  and  then  I'll  begone ; 

And  if  that  I  do  not  win  good  report, 

Then  do  not  give  me  one  groat  for  my  sport : —  so 

"  When  first  our  king  his  fame  did  advance, 
And  sought  his  title  in  delicate  France, 
In  many  places  great  perils  past  he, 
But  then  was  not  born  my  pretty  Bessee. 

"  And  at  those  wars  went  over  to  fight,  85 

Many  a  brave  duke,  a  lord,  and  a  knight, 
And  with  them  young  Monford  of  courage  so  free, 
But  then  was  not  born  my  pretty  Bessee. 
74.    look  to  us  then  the  truth. 


172    THE  BLIND  BEGGAR'S  DAUGHTER 

"  And  there  did  young  Monford  with  a  blow  on 

the  face 

Lose  both  his  eyes  in  a  very  short  space  ;  90 

His  life  had  been  gone  away  with  his  sight, 
Had  not  a  young  woman  gone  forth  in  the  night. 

"Among  the  slain  men,  her  fancy  did  move 
To  search  and  to  seek  for  her  own  true  love, 
Who  seeing  young  Monford  there  gasping  to  die,  ss 
She  saved  his  life  through  her  charity. 

"And  then  all  our  victuals  in  beggars  attire, 

At  the  hands  of  good  people  we  then  did  require  ; 

At  last  into  England,  as  now  it  is  seen, 

We  came,  and  remained  in  Bednall  Green.          100 

"  And  thus  we  have  lived  in  Fortune's  despyght, 
Though  poor,  yet  contented,  with  humble  delight, 
And  in  my  old  years,  a  comfort  to  me, 
God  sent  me  a  daughter,  called  pretty  Bessee. 

"And  thus,  ye  nobles,  my  song  I  do  end,  105 

Hoping  by  the  same  no  man  to  offend ; 
Full  forty  long  winters  thus  I  have  been, 
A  silly  blind  beggar  of  Bednall  Green." 

Now  when  the  company  every  one 
Did  hear  the  strange  tale  he  told  in  his  song,     no 
They  were  amazed,  as  well  as  they  might  be, 
Both  at  the  blind  beggar  and  pretty  Bessee. 
93.    said  men. 


OF   BEDNALL    GREEN.  173 

With  that  the  fair  bride  they  all  bid  embrace, 
Saying,  "  You  are  come  of  an  honourable  race ; 
Thy  father  likewise  is  of  high  degree,  us 

And  thou  art  right  worthy  a  lady  to  be." 

Thus  was  the  feast  ended  with  joy  and  delight ; 
A  happy  bridegroom  was  made  the  young  knight, 
Who  lived  in  great  joy  and  felicity, 
With  his  fair  lady,  dear  pretty  Bessee.  i*> 


THE  FAMOUS  FLOWER  OF  SERVING-MEN 

on, 
THE  LADY  TURNED  SERVING-MAN. 


FROM  A  Collection  of  Old  Ballads,  i.  216.  Percy's 
edition,  (iii.  126,)  was  from  a  written  copy,  "con 
taining  some  improvements,  (perhaps  modern  ones.") 
Mr.  Kinloch  has  printed  a  fragment  of  this  piece  in 
its  Scottish  dress,  as  taken  down  from  the  recitation 
of  an  old  woman  in  Lanark, — Sweet  Willie,  p.  96. 
Several  of  the  verses  in  the  following  are  found  also 
in  The  Lament  of  the  Border  Widow  ;  see  ante,  iii.  86. 

A  similar  story  is  found  in  Swedish  and  Danish : 
Liten  Kerstin,  or  Stolts  Botelid,  Stalldrdng,  Svenska 
Folk-Visor,  ii.  15,  20,  Arwidsson,  ii.  179:  Stolt  Inge- 
borys  Forklcedning,  Danske  Viser,  No.  184. 


You  beauteous  ladies,  great  and  small, 
I  write  unto  you  one  and  all, 
Whereby  that  you  may  understand 
What  I  have  suffer'd  in  this  land. 


THE  FAMOUS  FLOWER  OF  SERVING-MEN.     175 

I  was  by  birth  a  lady  fair,  5 

My  father's  chief  and  only  heir, 
But  when  my  good  old  father  died, 
Then  I  was  made  a  young  knight's  bride. 

And  then  my  love  built  me  a  bower, 
Bedeck'd  with  many  a  fragrant  flower ;  10 

A  braver  bower  you  ne'er  did  see, 
Than  my  true  love  did  build  for  me. 

But  there  came  thieves  late  in  the  night, 
They  robb'd  my  bower,  and  slew  my  knight, 
And  after  that  my  knight  was  slain,  w 

I  could  no  longer  there  remain. 

My  servants  all  from  me  did  fly, 

In  the  midst  of  my  extremity, 

And  left  me  by  myself  alone, 

With  a  heart  more  cold  than  any  stone.  20 

Yet,  though  my  heart  was  full  of  care, 
Heaven  would  not  suffer  me  to  despair ; 
Wherefore  in  haste  I  chang'd  my  name 
From  Fair  Elise  to  Sweet  William. 

And  therewithall  I  cut  my  hair,  25 

And  dress'd  myself  in  man's  attire, 
My  doublet,  hose,  and  beaver  hat, 
And  a  golden  band  about  my  neck. 


176      THE  FAMOUS  FLOWER  OF  SERVING-MEN 

With  a  silver  rapier  by  my  side, 
So  like  a  gallant  I  did  ride ; 
The  thing  that  I  delighted  on, 
It  was  to  be  a  serving-man. 

Thus  in  my  sumptuous  man's  array 
I  bravely  rode  along  the  way  ; 
And  at  the  last  it  chanced  so, 
That  I  to  the  king's  court  did  go. 

Then  to  the  king  I  bow'd  full  low, 
My  love  and  duty  for  to  show ; 
And  so  much  favour  I  did  crave, 
That  I  a  serving-man's  place  might  have. 

"  Stand  up,  brave  youth,"  the  king  replied, 
"  Thy  service  shall  not  be  denied  ; 
But  tell  me  first  what  thou  canst  do ; 
Thou  shalt  be  fitted  thereunto. 

"  Wilt  thou  be  usher  of  my  hall, 
To  wait  upon  my  nobles  all  ? 
Or  wilt  thou  be  taster  of  my  wine, 
To  wait  on  me  when  I  do  dine  ? 

"  Or  wilt  thou  be  my  chamberlain, 
To  make  my  bed  both  soft  and  fine  ? 
Or  wilt  thou  be  one  of  my  guard  ? 
And  I  will  give  thee  thy  reward." 


OR,  THE  LADY  TURNED  SERVING-MAN.     177 

Sweet  "William,  with  a  smiling  face, 
Said  to  the  king,  "  If  t  please  your  grace 
To  show  such  favour  unto  me,  « 

Your  chamberlain  I  fain  would  be." 


The  king  then  did  the  nobles  call, 
To  ask  the  counsel  of  them  all ; 
Who  gave  consent  Sweet  William  he 
The  king's  own  chamberlain  should  be. 

Now  mark  what  strange  thing  came  to  pass 
As  the  king  one  day  a  hunting  was, 
With  all  his  lords  and  noble  train, 
Sweet  William  did  at  home  remain. 

Sweet  William  had  no  company  .then 
With  him  at  home,  but  an  old  man ; 
And  when  he  saw  the  house  was  clear, 
He  took  a  lute  which  he  had  there : 

Upon  the  lute  Sweet  William  play'd, 
And  to  the  same  he  sung  and  said, 
With  a  sweet  and  noble  voice, 
Which  made  the  old  man  to  rejoice : 

"  My  father  was  as  brave  a  lord 
As  ever  Europe  did  afford, 
My  mother  was  a  lady  bright, 
My  husband  was  a  valiant  knight : 

VOL.  IV.  12 


178      THE  FAMOUS  FLOWER  OF  SERVING-MEN  ; 

"  And  I  myself  a  lady  gay, 

Bedeck'd  with  gorgeous  rich  array  ; 

The  bravest  lady  in  the  land 

Had  not  more  pleasure  at  command.  so 

"  I  had  my  music  every  day, 
Harmonious  lessons  for  to  play  ; 
I  had  my  virgins  fair  and  free, 
Continually  to  wait  on  me. 

"  But  now,  alas  !  my  husband's  dead,  ss 

And  all  my  friends  are  from  me  fled ; 
My  former  joys  are  pass'd  and  gone, 
For  I  am  now  a  serving-man." 

At  last  the  king  from  hunting  came, 

And  presently,  upon  the  same,  so 

He  called  for  this  good  old  man, 

And  thus  to  speak  the  king  began  : 

"  What  news,  what  news,  old  man  ?  "  quoth  he ; 
"  What  news  hast  thou  to  tell  to  me  ?  " 
"  Brave  news,"  the  old  man  he  did  say,  95 

"  Sweet  William  is  a  lady  gay." 

"  If  this  be  true  thou  tell'st  to  me 

I'll  make  thee  lord  of  high  degree ; 

But  if  thy  words  do  prove  a  lie, 

Thou  shall  be  hang'd  up  presently."  100 


OR,  THE  LADY  TURNED  SERVING-MAN.     179 

But  when  the  king  the  truth  had  found, 
His  joys  did  more  and  more  abound  : 
According  as  the  old  man  did  say, 
Sweet  William  was  a  lady  gay. 

Therefore  the  king  without  delay  ws 

Put  on  her  glorious  rich  array, 
And  upon  her  head  a  crown  of  gold, 
Which  was  most  famous  to  behold. 

And  then,  for  fear  of  further  strife, 

He  took  Sweet  William  for  his  wife  :  no 

The  like  before  was  never  seen, — 

A  serving-man  to  be  a  queen. 


THE    FAIR    FLOWER    OF    NORTHUMBER 
LAND. 

Ritson's  Ancient  Songs  and  Ballads,  ii.  75. 

PRESERVED  in  Thomas  Deloney's  History  of  Jack 
of  Newbery,  whence  it  was  extracted  by  Ritson.  In 
that  extraordinary  book,  The  Minstrelsy,  of  the  Eng 
lish  Border,  (p.  201,)  Ritson's  copy  is  inserted  with 
out  acknowledgment,  and  with  a  few  alterations  for 
the  worse.  Scottish  versions  of  this  ballad  are  given 
by  Kinloch,  (The  Provost's  Dochter,  p.  131,)  and  by 
Buchan,  (The  Betrayed  Lady,  ii.  208.)  The  former 
of  these  is  printed  in  our  Appendix. 

IT  was  a  Knight  in  Scotland  born, 
Follow,  my  love,  come  over  the  strand, 

Was  taken  prisoner,  and  left  forlorn, 

Even  by  the  good  Earl  of  Northumberland. 

Then  was  he  cast  in  prison  strong,  « 

Follow,  my  love,  ( come '  over  the  strand, 

Where  he  could  not  walk  nor  lye  along, 

Even  by  the  good  Earl  of  Northumberland. 


FAIR   FLOWER    OF   NORTHUMBERLAND.    181 

And  as  in  sorrow  thus  he  lay, 

Follow,  my  love,  come  over  the  strand,  10 

The  Earl  [s]  sweet  daughter  walks  that  way, 

And  she  is  the  fair  Flower  of  Northumber 
land. 

And  passing  by  like  an  angel  bright, 
Follow,  my  love,  come  over  the  strand, 

The  prisoner  had  of  her  a  sight,  u 

And  she  the  fair  Flower  of  Northumberland. 

And  aloud  to  her  this  knight  did  cry, 
Follow,  my  love,  come  over  the  strand, 

The  salt  tears  standing  in  his  eye, 

And  she  the  fair  Flower  of  Northumberland. 

"  Fair  lady,"  he  said,  "  take  pity  on  me,  21 

Follow,  my  love,  come  over  the  strand, 

And  let  me  not  in  prison  die, 

And  you  the  fair  Flower  of  Northumberland." 

"  Fair  Sir,  how  should  I  take  pity  on  thee,      25 
Follow,  my  love,  come  over  the  strand, 

Thou  being  a  foe  to  our  country, 

And  I  the  fair  Flower  of  Northumberland." 

"  Fair  lady,  I  am  no  foe,"  he  said, 

Follow,  my  love,  come  over  the  strand,  so 

"  Through  thy  sweet  love  here  was  I  stay'd, 

For  thee,  the  fair  Flower  of  Northumberland." 


182    FAIR    FLOWER    OF    NORTHUMBERLAND. 

"  Why  shouldst  thou  come  here  for  love  of  me, 
Follow,  my  love,  come  over  the  strand, 

Having  wife  and  children  in  thy  country,  35 
And  I  the  fair  Flower  of  Northumberland." 

"  I  swear  by  the  blessed  Trinity, 

Follow,  my  love,  come  over  the  strand, 

I  have  no  wife  nor  children,  I, 

Nor  dwelling  at  home  in  merry  Scotland,    '-o 

"  If  courteously  thou  wilt  set  me  free, 
Follow,  my  love,  come  over  the  strand, 

I  vow  that  I  will  marry  thee, 

So  soon  as  I  come  in  fair  Scotland. 

"  Thou  shalt  be  a  lady  of  castles  and  towers,  « 
Follow,  my  love,  come  over  the  strand, 

And  sit  like  a  queen  in  princely  bowers, 
Were  I  at  home  in  fair  Scotland." 

Then  parted  hence  this  lady  gay, 

Follow,  my  love,  come  over  the  strand,  so 

And  got  her  fathers  ring  away, 

To  help  this  knight  into  fair  Scotland. 

Likewise  much  gold  she  got  by  sleight, 
Follow,  my  love,  come  over  the  strand, 

And  all  to  help  this  forlorn  knight,  35 

To  wend  from  her  father  to  fair  Scotland. 


FAIR   FLOWER    OF   NORTHUMBERLAND.    183 

Two  gallant  steeds,  both  good  and  able, 
follow,  my  love,  come  over  the  strand, 

She  likewise  took  out  of  the  stable, 

To  ride  with  the  knight  into  fair  Scotland,  eo 

And  to  the  jaylor  she  sent  this  ring, 
follow,  my  love,  come  over  the  strand, 

The  knight  from  prison  forth  l  to '  bring, 
To  wend  with  her  into  fair  Scotland. 

This  token  set  the  prisoner  free,  es 

follow,  my  love,  come  over  the  strand, 

Who  straight  went  to  this  fair  lady, 
To  wend  with  her  into  fair  Scotland. 

A  gallant  steed  he  did  bestride, 

follow,  my  love,  come  over  the  strand,  ro 

And  with  the  lady  away  did  ride, 

And  she  the  fair  Flower  of  Northumberland. 

They  rode  till  they  came  to  a  water  clear, 
Follow,  my  love,  come  over  the  strand, 

"  Good  Sir,  how  should  I  follow  you  here,        ra 
And  I  the  fair  Flower  of  Northumberland  ? 

"  The  water  is  rough  and  wonderful  deep, 
Follow,  my  love,  come  over  the  strand, 

And  on  my  saddle  I  shall  not  keep, 

And   I   the   fair    Flower   of    Northumber 
land."  «o 


184   FAIR    FLOWER    OF    NORTHUMBERLAND. 

"  Fear  not  the  foard,  fair  lady,"  quoth  he, 
Follow,  my  love,  come  over  the  strand, 

"  For  long  I  cannot  stay  for  thee, 

And  thou  the  fair  Flower  of  Northumber 
land." 

The  lady  prickt  her  wanton  steed,  ss 

Follow,  my  love,  come  over  the  strand, 

And  over  the  river  sworn  with  speed, 

And  she  the  fair  Flower  of  Northumberland. 

From  top  to  toe  all  wet  was  she, 

Follow,  my  love,  come  over  the  strand ;         w 
"  Thus  have  I  done  for  love  of  thee, 

And  I  the  fair  Flower  of  Northumberland." 

Thus  rode  she  all  one  winters  night, 
Follow,  my  love,  come  over  the  strand, 

Till  Edenborough  they  saw  in  sight,  & 

The  fairest  town  in  all  Scotland. 

"  Now  chuse,"  quoth  he,  "  thou  wanton  flower, 
Follow,  my  love,  come  over  the  strand, 

t  Whether '  thou  wilt  be  my  paramour, 

Or  get  thee  home  to  Northumberland.         100 

"  For  I  have  wife,  and  children  five, 
Follow,  my  love,  come  over  the  strand; 

In  Edenborough  they  be  alive, 

Then  get  thee  home  to  fair  England. 


FAIR   FLOWER    OF   NORTHUMBERLAND.    185 

"  This  favour  thou  shalt  have  to  boot,  m 

Follow,  my  love,  come  over  the  strand ; 

Tie  have  '  thy '  horse,  go  thou  on  foot, 
Go,  get  thee  home  to  Northumberland." 

"  0  false  and  faithless  knight,"  quoth  she, 

Follow,  my  love,  come  over  the  strand,  no 

"  And  canst  thou  deal  so  bad  with  me, 

And  I  the  fair  Flower  of  Northumberland  ? 

"  Dishonour  not  a  ladies  name, 

Follow,  my  love,  come  over  the  strand, 

But  draw  thy  sword  and  end  my  shame,  us 
And  I  the  fair  Flower  of  Northumberland." 

He  took  her  from  her  stately  steed, 
Follow,  my  love,  come  over  the  strand, 

And  left  her  there  in  extream  need, 

And  she  the  fair   Flower  of  Northumber 
land.  120 

Then  sat  she  down  full  heavily, 

Follow,  my  love,  come  over  the  strand  ; 

At  length  two  knights  came  riding  by, 
Two  gallant  knights  of  fair  England. 

She  fell  down  humbly  on  her  knee,  125 

Follow,  my  love,  come  over  the  strand, 

Saying,  "  Courteous  '  knights,'  take  pity  on  me, 
And  I  the  fair  Flower  of  Northumberland. 


186    FAIR    FLOWER    OF   NORTHUMBERLAND. 

"  I  have  offended  my  father  dear, 

Follow,  my  love,  come  over  the  strand,          iso 
And  by  a  false  knight,  who  brought  me  here 

From  the  good  Earl  of  Northumberland." 

They  took  her  up  behind  them  then 
Follow,  my  love,  come  over  the  strand, 

And  brought  her  to  her  father  again,  135 

And  he  the  good  Earl  of  Northumberland. 

All  you  fair  maidens  be  warned  by  me, 
Follow,  my  love,  come  over  the  strand, 

Scots  never  were  true,  nor  never  will  be, 
To  lord,  nor  lady,  nor  fair  England.  no 


GENTLE  HERDSMAN,  TELL  TO  ME. 

From  Religues  of  Ancient  English  Poetry,  ii.  82. 

"  THE  scene  of  this  beautiful  old  ballad  is  laid  near 
Walsingham,  in  Norfolk,  where  was  anciently  an 
image  of  the  Virgin  Mary,  famous  over  all  Europe 
for  the  numerous  pilgrimages  made  to  it,  and  the 
great  riches  it  possessed.  Erasmus  has  given  a  very 
exact  and  humorous  description  of  the  superstitions 
practised  there  in  his  time.  See  his  account  of  the 
Virgo  Parathalassia,  in  his  colloquy  entitled,  Pere- 
grinatio  Religionis  Ergo.  He  tells  us,  the  rich  offer 
ings  in  silver,  gold,  and  precious  stones  that  were 
there  shown  him  were  incredible,  there  being  scarce  a 
person  of  any  note  in  England,  but  what  some  time  or 
other  paid  a  visit  or  sent  a  present  to  Our  Lady  of 
Walsingham.  At  the  dissolution  of  the  monasteries 
in  1538,  this  splendid  image,  with  another  from  Ips 
wich,  was  carried  to  Chelsea,  and  there  burnt  in  the 
presence  of  commissioners ;  who,  we  trust,  did  not 
burn  the  jewels  and  the  finery. 

"  This  poem  is  printed  from  a  copy  in  the  Editor's 
folio  MS.  which  had  greatly  suffered  by  the  hand  of 
time  ;  but  vestiges  of  several  of  the  lines  remaining, 
some  conjectural  supplements  have  been  attempted, 
which,  for  greater  exactness,  are  in  this  one  ballad 
distinguished  by  italics."  PERCY. 


188   GENTLE  HERDSMAN,  TELL  TO  ME. 


GENTLE  beards  man,  tell  to  me, 

Of  curtesy  I  thee  pray, 
Unto  the  towne  of  Walsingham 

Which  is  the  right  and  ready  way. 

"  Unto  the  towne  of  Walsingham  6 

The  way  is  hard  for  to  be  gon ; 
And  verry  crooked  are  those  pathes 

For  you  to  find  out  aU  alone." 

Weere  the  miles  doubled  thrise, 

And  the  way  never  soe  ill,  10 

Itt  were  not  enough  for  mine  offence, 

Itt  is  soe  grievous  and  soe  ill. 

"  Thy  yeeares  are  young,  thy  face  is  faire, 
Thy  witts  are  weake,  thy  thoughts  are  greene  ; 

Time  hath  not  given  thee  leave,  as  yett,  ^ 

For  to  committ  so  great  a  sinne." 

Yes,  heardsman,  yes,  soe  woldest  thou  say, 

If  thou  knewest  soe  much  as  I  ; 
My  witts,  and  thoughts,  and  all  the  rest, 

Have  well  deserved  for  to  dye.  20 


GENTLE  HERDSMAN,  TELL  TO  ME.    189 

I  am  not  what  I  seeme  to  bee, 

My  clothes  and  sexe  doe  differ  farr : 

I  am  a  woman,  woe  is  me  ! 

Born  to  greeffe  and  irksome  care. 

For  my  beloved,  and  well-beloved,  as 

My  wayward  cruelty  could  kill : 
And  though  my  teares  will  nought  avail, 

Most  dearely  1  bewail  him  still. 

He  was  the  flower  of  noble  wights, 

None  ever  more  sincere  colde  bee  ;  so 

Of  comely  mien  and  shape  hee  was, 

And  tenderlye  hee  loved  mee. 

When  thus  I  saw  he  loved  me  well, 
I grewe  so  proud  his  pame  to  see, 

That  I,  who  did  not  know  myselfe,  so 

Thought  scorne  of  such  a  youth  as  hee. 

And  grew  soe  coy  and  nice  to  please, 

As  women's  lookes  are  often  soe, 
He  might  not  kisse,  nor  hand  forsooth, 

Unlesse  I  willed  him  soe  to  doe.  « 

Thus  being  wearyed  with  delayes 
To  see  I  pittyed  not  his  greeffe, 


41 — 52.     Stanzas  11,  12,  13,  have  been  paraphrased  by 
Goldsmith  in  his  ballad  of  Edwin  and  Emma. 


190    GENTLE  HERDSMAN,  TELL  TO  ME. 

He  gott  him  to  a  secrett  place, 

And  there  he  dyed  without  releeffe. 

And  for  his  sake  these  weeds  I  weare, 
And  sacrifice  my  tender  age  ; 

And  every  day  He  begg  my  bread, 
To  undergoe  this  pilgrimage. 

Thus  every  day  I  fast  and  pray, 

And  ever  will  doe  till  I  dye  ; 
And  gett  me  to  some  secrett  place, 

For  soe  did  hee,  and  soe  will  I. 

Now,  gentle  heardsman,  aske  no  more, 
But  keepe  my  secretts  I  thee  pray  : 

Unto  the  towne  of  Walsingham 

Show  me  the  right  and  readye  way. 

"  Now  goe  thy  wayes,  and  God  before ! 

For  he  must  ever  guide  thee  still : 
Turne  downe  that  dale,  the  right  hand  path, 

And  soe,  faire  pilgrim,  fare  thee  well !  " 


AS  I  CAME  FROM  WALSINGHAM. 


FROM  The  Garland  of  Good  Will,  as  reprinted  by 
the  Percy  Society,  vol.  xxx.  p.  111.  Percy's  copy 
was  communicated  to  him  by  Shenstone,  and  was  re 
touched  by  that  poet. 

"  The  pilgrimage  to  Walsingham,"  remarks  the 
Bishop,  "  suggested  the  plan  of  many  popular  pieces. 
In  the  Pepys  collection,  vol.  i.  p.  226,  is  a  kind  of 
interlude  in  the  old  ballad  style,  of  which  the  first 
stanza  alone  is  worth  reprinting. 


As  I  went  to  Walsingham, 

To  the  shrine  with  speede, 
Met  I  with  a  jolly  palmer 

In  a  pilgrimes  weede. 
'  Now  God  you  save,  you  jolly  palmer! 

'  Welcome,  lady  gay ! 
Oft  have  I  sued  to  thee  for  love.' 

'  Oft  have  I  said  you  nay.' 


The  pilgrimages  undertaken  on  pretence  of  religion 
were  often  productive  of  affairs  of  gallantry,  and  led 
the  votaries  to  no  other  shrine  than  that  of  Venus.* 

*  '  Hermets  on  a  heape,  with  hoked  staves, 
Wenten  to  Walsingham,  and  her  wenches  after.' 

Visions  of  Pierce  Plowman,  fo.  i. 


192          AS    I    CAME    FROM   WALSINGHAM. 

"  The  following  ballad  was  once  very  popular ;  it  is 
quoted  in  Fletcher's  '  Knight  of  the  Burning  Pestle,' 
Act  ii.  sc.  ult,  and  in  another  old  play,  called  "  Hans 
Beer-pot,  his  invisible  Comedy,  &c.  4to  1618,  Act  i." 

As  I  went  to  Walsingham  is  quoted  in  "  Nashe's 
Have  with  you  to  Saffron-Walden,  1596,  sign.  L." 
CHAPPELL. 

"  As  you  came  from  the  holy-land 

Of  Walsingham, 
Met  you  not  with  my  true  love 

By  the  way  as  you  came  ?  " 

"  How  should  I  know  your  true  love,  5 

That  have  met  many  a  one, 
As  I  came  from  the  holy -land, 

That  have  come,  that  have  gone  ?  " 

"  She  is  neither  white  nor  brown, 

But  as  the  heavens  fair ;  10 

There  is  none  hath  a  form  so  divine, 
On  the  earth,  in  the  air." 

"  Such  a  one  did  I  meet,  good  sir, 

With  angellike  face, 
Who  like  a  queen  did  appear  w 

In  her  gait,  in  her  grace." 

"  She  hath  left  me  here  all  alone, 
All  alone  and  unknown, 


AS    I    CAME    FROM    WALSINGHAM.  193 

Who  sometime  lov'd  me  as  her  life, 

And  call'd  me  her  own."  20 


"  What's  the  cause  she  hath  left  thee  alone, 

And  a  new  way  doth  take, 
That  sometime  did  love  thee  as  her  life, 

And  her  joy  did  thee  make  ?  " 

"I  loved  her  all  my  youth,  9 

But  now  am  old,  as  you  see ; 
Love  liketh  not  the  fallen  fruit, 

Nor  the  withered  tree. 

"  For  love  is  a  careless  child, 

And  forgets  promise  past ;  a 

He  is  blind,  he  is  deaf,  when  he  list, 

And  in  faith  never  fast. 

"  For  love  is  a  great  delight, 

And  yet  a  trustless  joy  ; 
He  is  won  with  a  word  of  despair,  35 

And  is  lost  with  a  toy. 

"  Such  is  the  love  of  womankind, 

Or  the  word  abus'd, 
Under  which  many  childish  desires 

And  conceits  are  excus'd.  40 

VOL.    IV.  13 


194  AS    I    CAME    FROM    WALSINGHAM. 

"  But  love  is  a  durable  fire, 
In  the  mind  ever  burning ; 

Never  sick,  never  dead,  never  cold, 
From  itself  never  turning." 


KING  COPHETUA  AND  THE  BEGGAR-MAID. 

FROM  Richard  Johnson's  Crowne- Garland  of 
Goulden  Roses,  (1612,)  as  reprinted  by  the  Percy 
Society,  vi.  45.  It  is  there  simply  entitled  A  Song  of 
a  Beggar  and  a  King.  Given  in  Percy's  Reliques,  i. 
202,  "  corrected  by  another  copy." 

This  story,  and  it  would  appear  this  very  ballad,  is 
alluded  to  by  Shakespeare  and  others  of  the  dramatists. 

Thus,  the  13th  verse  is  partly  quoted  in  Romeo  and 
Juliet,  A.  ii.  sc.  1  : 

"  Young  Adam  Cupid,  he  that  shot  so  trim, 
When  King  Cophetua  loved  the  beggar-maid." 

Again  in  Love's  Labour's  Lost,  (printed  in  1598,) 
A.  i.  sc.  2. 

Arm.  Is  there  not  a  ballad,  boy,  of  the  King  and  the 
Beggar  V 

Moth.  The  world  was  very  guilty  of  such  a  ballad  some 
three  ages  since,  but,  I  think,  now  'tis  not  to  be  found. 

See  also  Henry  Fourth,  P.  ii.  A.  v.  sc.  3,  Richard 
Second,  A.  v.  sc.  3,  and  Ben  Jonson's  Every  Man  in 
his  Humour,  A.  iii.  sc.  4, — all  these  cited  by  Percy. 

In  A  Collection  of  Old  Ballads,  i.  138,  is  a  rifaci- 
mento  of  this  piece,  in  a  different  stanza,  but  following 
the  story  closely  and  preserving  much  of  the  diction. 
It  is  also  printed  in  Evans's  Old  Ballads,  ii.  361. 


196    KING  COPHETUA  AND  THE  BEGGAR-MAID. 

I  READ  that  once  in  Affrica 

A  prince  that  there  did  raine, 
Who  had  to  name  Cophetua, 

As  poets  they  did  faine. 
From  natures  workes  he  did  incline, 

For  sure  he  was  not  of  my  minde, 
He  cared  not  for  women-kind, 

But  did  them  all  disdain. 
But  marke  what  happen'd  by  the  way ; 
As  he  out  of  his  window  lay, 
He  saw  a  beggar  all  in  grey, 

Which  did  increase  his  paine. 

The  blinded  boy  that  shootes  so  trim 

From  heaven  downe  so  high, 
He  drew  a  dart  and  shot  at  him, 

In  place  where  he  did  lye : 
Which  soone  did  pierce  him  to  the  quick, 
For  when  he  felt  the  arrow  prick, 
Which  in  his  tender  heart  did  stick, 

He  looketh  as  he  would  dye. 
"  What  sudden  change  is  this,"  quoth  he, 
"  That  I  to  love  must  subject  be, 
Which  never  thereto  would  agree, 

But  still  did  it  defie  ?  " 

Then  from  his  window  he  did  come, 

And  laid  him  on  his  bed ; 
A  thousand  heapes  of  care  did  runne 

Within  his  troubled  head. 


KING  COPHETUA  AND  THE  BEGGAR-MAID.     197 

For  now  he  means  to  crave  her  love, 

And  now  he  seeks  which  way  to  proove  so 

How  he  his  fancie  might  remove, 

And  not  this  beggar  wed. 
But  Cupid  had  him  so  in  snare, 
That  this  poore  beggar  must  prepare 
A  salve  to  cure  him  of  his  care,  as 

Or  els  he  would  be  dead. 

And  as  he  musing  thus  did  lie, 

He  thought  for  to  devise 
How  he  might  have  her  company, 

That  so  did  maze  his  eyes.  40 

"  In  thee,"  quoth  he,  "  doth  rest  my  life ; 
For  surely  thou  shalt  be  my  wife, 
Or  else  this  hand  with  bloody  knife, 

The  gods  shall  sure  suffice." 
Then  from  his  bed  he  '  soon'  arose,  « 

And  to  his  pallace  gate  he  goes ; 
Full  little  then  this  beggar  knowes 

When  she  the  king  espies. 

"  The  gods  preserve  your  majesty," 

The  beggars  all  gan  cry  ;  so 

"  Vouchsafe  to  give  your  charity, 
Our  childrens  food  to  buy ! " 

The  king  to  them  his  purse  did  cast, 

And  they  to  part  it  made  great  haste  ; 

This  silly  woman  was  the  last  « 

That  after  them  did  hye. 
48,  espied. 


198    KING  COPHETUA  AND  THE  BEGGAR-MAID. 

The  king  lie  cal'd  her  back  again, 
And  unto  her  he  gave  his  chaine  ; 
And  said,  "  With  us  you  shall  remain 
Till  such  time  as  we  dye. 

«  For  thou,"  quoth  he,  "  shalt  be  my  wife, 

And  honoured  like  the  queene  ; 
With  thee  I  meane  to  lead  my  life, 

As  shortly  shall  be  seene  : 
Our  wedding  day  shall  appointed  be, 
And  every  thing  in  their  degree ; 
Come  on,"  quoth  he,  "  and  follow  me, 

Thou  shalt  go  shift  thee  clean e. 
What  is  thy  name  ? — go  on,"  quoth  he. 
"  Penelophon,  O  King !  "  quoth  she ; 
With  that  she  made  a  lowe  courtsey  ; 

A  trim  one  as  I  weene. 

Thus  hand  in  hand  along  they  walke 

Unto  the  kings  palace  : 
The  king  with  courteous,  comly  talke 

This  beggar  doth  embrace. 
The  beggar  blusheth  scarlet  read, 
And  straight  againe  as  pale  as  lead, 
But  not  a  word  at  all  she  said, 

She  was  in  such  amaze. 
At  last  she  spake  with  trembling  voyce, 
And  said,  "  O  King,  I  do  rejoyce 
That  you  will  take  me  for  your  choice, 

And  my  degree  so  base  !  " 


KING  COPHETUA  AND  THE  BEGGAR-MAID.    199 

And  when  the  wedding  day  was  come,  & 

The  king  commanded  straight 
The  noblemen,  both  all  and  some, 

Upon  the  queene  to  waight. 
And  she  behavd  herself  that  day 
As  if  she  had  never  walkt  the  way ;  a> 

She  had  forgot  her  gowne  of  gray, 

Which  she  did  wear  of  late. 
The  proverb  old  is  come  to  passe, 
The  priest,  when  he  begins  the  masse, 
Forgets  that  ever  clarke  he  was ;  95 

He  knowth  not  his  estate. 

Here  you  may  read  Cophetua, 

Through  fancie  long  time  fed, 
Compelled  by  the  blinded  boy 

The  beggar  for  to  wed :  100 

He  that  did  lovers  lookes  disdaine, 
To  do  the  same  was  glad  and  fain, 
Or  else  he  would  himself  have  slaine, 

In  stories  as  we  read. 

Disdaine  no  whit,  0  lady  deere,  10* 

But  pitty  now  thy  servant  heere, 
Lest  that  it  hap  to  thee  this  yeare, 

As  to  the  king  it  did. 

And  thus  they  lead  a  quiet  life 

During  their  princely  raigne,  no 

And  in  a  tombe  were  buried  both, 

As  writers  shew  us  plaine. 


200    KING  COPHETUA  AND  THE  BEGGAR-MAID. 

The  lords  they  tooke  it  grievously, 

The  ladies  tooke  it  heavily, 

The  commons  cryed  pittiously,  115 

Their  death  to  them  was  pain. 
Their  fame  did  sound  so  passingly, 
That  it  did  pierce  the  starry  sky, 
And  throughout  all  the  world  did  flye 

To  every  princes  realme.  120 


THE  SPANISH  LADY'S  LOVE. 

FROM  The  Garland  of  Good- Will,  as  reprinted  by 
the  Percy  Society,  xxx.  125.  Other  copies,  slightly 
different,  in  A  Collection  of  Old  Ballads,  ii.  191,  and 
in  Percy's  Reliques,  ii.  246. 

Percy  conjectures  that  this  ballad  "  took  its  rise 
from  one  of  those  descents  made  on  the  Spanish  coasts 
in  the  time  of  Queen  Elizabeth."  The  weight  of 
tradition  is  decidedly,  perhaps  entirely,  in  favor  of  the 
hero's  having  been  one  of  Essex's  comrades  in  the 
Cadiz  expedition,  but  which  of  his  gallant  captains 
achieved  the  double  conquest  of  the  Spanish  Lady  is 
by  no  means  satisfactorily  determined.  Among  the 
candidates  put  forth  are  Sir  Richard  Levison  of 
Trentham,  Staffordshire,  Sir  John  Popham  of  Little- 
cot,  Wilts,  Sir  Urias  Legh  of  Adlington,  Cheshire, 
and  Sir  John  Bolle  of  Thorpe  Hall,  Lincolnshire. 
The  right  of  the  last  to  this  distinction  has  been  re 
cently  warmly  contended  for,  and,  as  is  usual  in  simi 
lar  cases,  strong  circumstantial  evidence  is  urged  in 
his  favor.  The  reader  will  judge  for  himself  of  its 
probable  authenticity. 

"  On  Sir  John  Bolle's  departure  from  Cadiz,"  it 
is  said,  "  the  Spanish  Lady  sent  as  presents  to  his 


202  THE    SPANISH    LADY'S    LOVE. 

wife  a  profusion  of  jewels  and  other  valuables,  among 
which  was  her  portrait  drawn  in  green  ;  plate,  money, 
and  other  treasures."  Some  of  these  articles  are  main 
tained  to  be  still  in  possession  of  the  family,  and  also 
a  portrait  of  Sir  John,  drawn  in  1596,  at  the  age  of 
thirty-six,  in  which  he  wears  the  gold  chain  given  him 
by  his  enamored  prisoner.  See  The  Times  newspaper 
of  April  30  and  May  1,  1846,  (the  latter  article  cited 
in  Notes  and  Queries,  ix.  573,)  and  the  Quarterly  Re 
view,  Sept.  1846,  Art.  III.  The  literary  merits  of  the 
ballad  are  also  considered  in  the  Edinburgh  Review, 
of  April,  1846. 

Shen  stone  has  essayed  in  his  Moral  Tale  of  Love 
and  Honour  to  bring  out  "  the  Spanish  Ladye  and 
her  Knight  in  less  grovelling  accents  than  the  simple 
guise  of  ancient  record,"  while  Wordsworth,  in  a 
more  reverential  spirit,  has  taken  this  noble  old  ro 
mance  as  the  model  of  his  Armenian  Lady's  Love. 

WILL  you  hear  a  Spanish  lady, 

How  she  woo'd  an  English  man  ? 
Garments  gay  as  rich  as  may  be, 

Decked  with  jewels,  had  she  on  ; 
Of  a  comely  countenance  and  grace  was  she,        « 
And  by  birth  and  parentage  of  high  degree. 

As  his  prisoner  there  he  kept  her, 

In  his  hands  her  life  did  lie  ; 
Cupid's  bands  did  tie  her  faster, 

By  the  liking  of  an  eye ;  w 

In  his  courteous  company  was  all  her  joy, 
To  favour  him  in  any  thing  she  was  not  coy. 


THE    SPANISH   LADY'S    LOVE.  203 

At  the  last  there  came  commandment 

For  to  set  the  ladies  free, 
With  their  jewels  still  adorned,  is 

None  to  do  them  injury : 

"  Alas,"  then  said  this  lady  gay,  "  full  woe  is  me  ; 
0  let  me  still  sustain  this  kind  captivity ! 

"  0  gallant  captain,  shew  some  pity 

To  a  lady  in  distress  ;  ao 

Leave  me  not  within  the  city, 

For  to  die  in  heaviness  ; 
Thou  hast  set  this  present  day  my  body  free, 
But  my  heart  in  prison  strong  remains  with  thee." 

"  How  should'st  thou,  fair  lady,  love  me,  25 

Whom  thou  know'st  thy  country's  foe  ? 

Thy  fair  words  make  me  suspect  thee ; 
Serpents  are  where  flowers  grow." 

"All  the  evil  I  think  to  thee,  most  gracious  knight, 

God  grant  unto  myself  the  same  may  fully  light !  30 

"  Blessed  be  the  time  and  season, 
That  you  came  on  Spanish  ground  ; 

If  you  may  our  foes  be  termed, 
Gentle  foes  we  have  you  found. 

With  our  city,  you  have  won  our  hearts  each  one ;  35 

Then  to  your  country  bear  away  that  is  your  own." 

"  Rest  you  still,  most  gallant  lady, 
Rest  you  still,  and  weep  no  more  ; 


204  THE    SPANISH    LADY'S    LOVE. 

Of  fair  lovers  there  are  plenty ; 

Spain  doth  yield  a  wondrous  store."  <o 

"  Spaniards  fraught  with  jealousie  we  often  find ; 
But  English  men  throughout  the  world  are  counted 
kind. 

"  Leave  me  not  unto  a  Spaniard  ; 

You  alone  enjoy  my  heart ; 
I  am  lovely,  young,  and  tender,  « 

And  so  love  is  my  desert. 
Still   to  serve   thee  day  and   night  my  mind  is 

prest ; 
The  wife  of  every  English  man  is  counted  blest." 

"  It  would  be  a  shame,  fair  lady, 

For  to  bear  a  woman  hence  ;  so 

English  soldiers  never  carry 

Any  such  without  offence." 
"  I  will  quickly  change  myself,  if  it  be  so, 
And  like  a  page  I'll  follow  thee,  where'er  thou 
go-" 

"  I  have  neither  gold  nor  silver  « 

To  maintain  thee  in  this  case, 
And  to  travel,  'tis  great  charges, 
As  you  know,  in  every  place." 
"My  chains  and  jewels  every  one  shall  be  thine 

own, 

And  eke  ten  thousand  pounds  in  gold  that  lies 
unknown."  eo 


THE    SPANISH    LADY'S    LOVE.  205 

"  On  the  seas  are  many  dangers ; 

Many  storms  do  there  arise, 
Which  will  be  to  ladies  dreadful, 

And  force  tears  from  wat'ry  eyes." 
"  Well  in  worth  I  could  endure  extremity,  & 

For  I  could  find  in  heart  to  lose  my  life  for  thee." 

"  Courteous  lady,  be  contented  ; 

Here  comes  all  that  breeds  the  strife  ; 
I  in  England  have  already 

A  sweet  woman  to  my  wife  :  70 

I  will  not  falsifie  my  vow  for  gold  or  gain, 
Nor  yet  for  all  the  fairest  dames  that  live  in  Spain." 

"  Oh  how  happy  is  that  woman 

That  enjoys  so  true  a  friend  ! 
Many  days  of  joy  God  send  you  !  7& 

Of  my  suit  I'll  make  an  end  : 
On  my  knees  I  pardon  crave  for  this  offence, 
Which  love  and  true  affection  did  first  commence. 

"  Commend  me  to  thy  loving  lady ; 

Bear  to  her  this  chain  of  gold,  so 

And  these  bracelets  for  a  token ; 

Grieving  that  I  was  so  bold. 
All  my  jewels  in  like  sort  bear  thou  with  thee, 
For  these  are  fitting  for  thy  wife,  and  not  for  me. 

"  I  will  spend  my  days  in  prayer,  85 

Love  and  all  her  laws  defie ; 


206  THE    SPANISH    LADY'S    LOVE. 

In  a  nunnery  will  I  shroud  me, 

Far  from  other  company  : 
But  ere  my  prayers  have  end,  be  sure  of  this, 
[To  pray]  for  thee  and  for  thy  love  I  will  not 
miss.  9° 

"  Thus  farewell,  most  gentle  captain, 

And  farewell  my  heart's  content ! 
Count  not  Spanish  ladies  wanton, 

Though  to  thee  my  love  was  bent : 
Joy  and  true  prosperity  goe  still  with  thee  ! "      95 
"  The  like  fall  ever  to  thy  share,  most  fair  lady." 


PATIENT  GRISSEL. 

THE  story  of  Griselda  was  first  told  in  the  Decame 
ron.  Boccaccio  derived  the  incidents  from  Petrarch, 
and  Petrarch  seems  to  have  communicated  them  also 
to  Chaucer,  who  (in  his  Clerk  of  Oxenford's  Tale)  first 
made  known  the  tale  to  English  readers.  The  theme 
was  subsequently  treated  in  a  great  variety  of  ways.* 
Two  plays  upon  the  subject  are  known  to  have  been 
written,  one  of  which  (by  Dekker,  Chettle  and  Haugh- 
ton)  has  been  printed  by  the  Shakespeare  Society, 
while  the  other,  an  older  production  of  the  close  of 
Henry  VIII.'s  reign,  is  lost.  About  the  middle  of  the 
sixteenth  century,  (1565,)  a  Song  of  Patient  Grissell 
is  entered  in  the  Stationers'  Registers,  and  a  prose  his 
tory  the  same  year.  The  earliest  edition  of  the  pop 
ular  prose  history  as  yet  recovered,  dated  1619,  has 
been  reprinted  in  the  third  volume  of  the  Percy  So 
ciety's  Publications. 

The  ballad  here  given  is  taken  from  Thomas  Delo- 
ney's  Garland  of  Good  Will,  a  collection  which  was 
printed  some  time  before  1596.  It  was  circulated  after 
that  time,  and  probably  even  before  the  compilation 
of  the  Garland,  as  a  broadside,  in  black-letter,  and  also, 
with  the  addition  of  a  prose  introduction  and  conclu- 

*  For  the  bibliography  see  Grasse's  Sagenkreise,  p.  282. 
The  story  is  also  found,  says  some  one,  in  the  Swedish  saga 
of  Hal  on  Borkenbart.  *  ' 


208  PATIENT    GRISSEL. 

sion,  as  a  tract  or  chap-book.  In  this  last  form  it  is 
printed  in  the  above-mentioned  volume  of  the  Percy 
Society.  The  ballad  in  its  proper  simplicity  is  in 
serted  in  A  Collection  of  Old  Ballads,  i.  252. 

Percy's  Patient  Countess  (Reliques,  i.  310)  is  ex 
tracted  from  Albion's  England. 

The  title  in  The  Garland  of  Good  Will  is,  Of  Patient 
Grissel  and  a  Noble  Marquess.  To  the  tune  of  the 
Bride's  Good  Morrow.  Percy  Society,  vol.  xxx.  p.  82. 


A  NOBLE  marquess,  as  he  did  ride  a-hunting, 

Hard  by  a  river  side, 
A  proper  maiden,  as  she  did  sit  a-spinning, 

His  gentle  eye  espy'd  : 

Most  fair  and  lovely,  and  of  comely  grace  was 
she,  « 

Although  in  simple  attire ; 

She  sang  most  sweetly,  with  pleasant  voice  melo 
diously, 

Which  set  the  lord's  heart  on  fire. 
The  more  he  lookt,  the  more  he  might ; 
Beauty  bred  his  hearts  delight,  10 

And  to  this  damsel  he  went. 
"  God  speed,"  quoth  he,  "  thou  famous  flower, 
Fair  mistress  of  this  homely  bower, 

Where  love  and  vertue  live  with  sweet  content." 

With  comely  gesture  and  modest  mild  behaviour  is 

She  bad  him  welcome  then ; 
She  entertain'd  him  in  a  friendly  manner, 


PATIENT   GRISSEL.  209 

And  all  his  gentlemen. 
The  noble  marquess  in  his  heart  felt  such  flame 

Which  set  his  senses  all  at  'strife  ;  20 

Quoth  he,  "  Fair  maiden,  shew  soon  what  is  thy 
name  : 

I  mean  to  take  thee  to  my  wife." 
"  Grissel  is  my  name,"  quoth  she, 
"  Far  unfit  for  your  degree  ; 

A  silly  maiden,  and  of  parents  poor."  25 

"  Nay,  Grissel,  thou  art  rich,"  he  said, 
"  A  vertuous,  fair,  and  comely  maid ; 

Grant  me  thy  love,  and  I  will  ask  no  more." 

At  length  she  consented,  and  being  both  contented, 

They  married  were  with  speed  ;  so 

Her  country  russet  was  turn'd  to  silk  and  velvet, 

As  to  her  state  agreed  : 

And  when   that   she  was   trimly  attired  in  the 
same, 

Her  beauty  shin'd  most  bright, 
Far  staining  every  other  brave  and  comely  dame 

That  did  appear  in  sight.  36 

Many  envied  her  therefore, 
Because  she  was  of  parents  poor, 

And  twixt  her  lord  and  her  great  strife  did  raise : 
Some  said  this,  and  some  said  that,  « 

Some  did  call  her  beggar's  brat, 

And  to  her  lord  they  would  her  oft  dispraise. 

36,  G.  G.  W.,  in  her  sight. 
VOL.  IV.  14 


210  PATIENT    GRISSEL. 

"  0  noble  marquess,"  quoth  they,  "  why  do  you 
wrong  us, 

Thus  basely  for  to  wed, 
That  might  have  got  an  honourable  lady  « 

Into  your  princely  bed  ? 
Who  will  not  now  your  noble  issue  still  deride, 

Which  shall  be  hereafter  born, 
That  are  of  blood  so  base  by  the  mother's  side, 

The  which  will  bring  them  to  scorn  ?  to 

Put  her,  therefore,  quite  away  ; 
Take  to  you  a  lady  gay, 

Whereby  your  lineage  may  renowned  be." 
Thus  every  day  they  seem'd  to  prate 
At  malic'd  Grissel's  good  estate,  w 

Who  took  all  this  most  mild  and  patiently. 

When  that  the  marquess  did  see  that  they  were 
bent  thus 

Against  his  faithful  wife, 
Whom  most  dearly,  tenderly,  and  intirely 

He  loved  as  his  life  ;  eo 

Minding  in  secret  for  to  prove  her  patient  heart, 

Thereby  her  foes  to  disgrace ; 
Thinking  to  play  a  hard  discourteous  part, 

That  men  might  pity  her  case, — 
Great  with  child  this  lady  was,  es 

And  at  length  it  came  to  pass, 

Two  lovely  children  at  one  birth  she  had  ; 
A  son  and  daughter  God  had  sent, 
Which  did  their  father  well  content, 


PATIENT    GRISSEL.  211 

And  which  did  make  their  mothers  heart  full 
glad.  70 

Great  royal  feasting  was  at  the  childrens  christ- 
'ning, 

And  princely  triumph  made  ; 
Six  weeks  together,  all  nobles  that  came  thither 

Were  entertain'd  and  staid. 

And  when  that  these  pleasant  sportings  quite  were 
done,  75 

The  marquess  a  messenger  sent 
For  his  young  daughter  and  his  pretty  smiling  son, 

Declaring  his  full  intent, 
How  that  the  babes  must  murthered  be, 
For  so  the  marquess  did  decree.  so 

"  Come,  let  me  have  the  children,"  he  said : 
With  that  fair  Grissel  wept  full  sore, 
She  wrung  her  hands,  and  said  no  more  ; 

"  My  gracious  lord  must  have  his  will  obey'd." 

She  took  the  babies  from  the  nursing-ladies,        *» 

Between  her  tender  arms  ; 
She  often  wishes,  with  many  sorrowful  kisses, 

That  she  might  help  their  harms. 
"  Farewel,"  quoth  she,  "  my  children  dear  ; 

Never  shall  I  see  you  again ;  so 

'Tis  long  of  me,  your  sad  and  woful  mother  dear, 

For  whose  sake  you  must  be  slain. 
Had  I  been  born  of  royal  race, 
You  might  have  liv'd  in  happy  case ; 


212  PATIENT    GRISSEL. 

But  now  you  must  die  for  my  unworthiness.    es 
"  Come,  messenger  of  death,"  quoth  she, 
"  Take  my  despised  babes  to  thee, 

And  to  their  father  my  complaints  express." 

He  took  the  children,  and  to  his  noble  master 

He  brought  them  forth  with  speed  ;  100 

Who  secretly  sent  them  unto  a  noble  lady, 

To  be  nurst  up  indeed. 
Then  to  fair  Grissel  with  a  heavy  heart  he  goes, 

Where  she  sat  mildly  all  alone  ; 
A  pleasant  gesture  and  a  lovely  look  she  shows,  i<» 

As  if  grief  she  had  never  known. 
Quoth  he,  "  My  children  now  are  slain ; 
What  thinks  fair  Grissel  of  the  same  ? 

Sweet  Grissel,  now  declare  thy  mind  to  me." 
"  Since  you,  my  lord,  are  pleas'd  with  it,  no 

Poor  Grissel  thinks  the  action  fit ; 

Both  I  and  mine  at  your  command  will  be." 

"  The  nobles  murmur,  fair  Grissel,  at  thine  honour, 

And  I  no  joy  can  have 
Till  thou  be  banisht  from  my  court  and  presence,  us 

As  they  unjustly  crave. 
Thou  must  be  stript  out  of  thy  stately  garments ; 

And  as  thou  earnest  to  me, 
In  homely  gray,  instead  of  silk  and  purest  pall, 

Now  all  thy  cloathing  must  be.  120 

My  lady  thou  must  be  no  more, 
Nor  I  thy  lord,  which  grieves  me  sore ; 


PATIENT    GRISSEL.  213 

The  poorest  life  must  now  content  thy  mind : 
A  groat  to  thee  I  may  not  give, 
Thee  to  maintain,  while  I  do  live  ;  >M 

'Gainst  my  Grissel  such  great  foes  I  find." 

When  gentle  Grissel  heard  these  woful  tidings, 

The  tears  stood  in  her  eyes ; 
She  nothing  said,  no  words  of  discontentment 

Did  from  her  lips  arise.  iso 

Her  velvet  gown  most  patiently  she  stript  off, 

Her  girdle  of  silk  with  the  same ; 
Her  russet  gown  was  brought  again  with  many  a 
scoff; 

To  bear  them  all,  herself  [she]  did  frame. 
When  she  was  drest  in  this  array,  iss 

And  ready  was  to  part  away, 

"  God  send  long  life  unto  my  lord,"  quoth  she  ; 
"Let  no  offence  be  found  in  this, 
To  give  my  lord  a  parting  kiss." 

With  wat'ry  eyes,  "  Farewel,  my  dear  ! "  quoth 
he.  i* 

From  stately  palace,  unto  her  father's  cottage, 

Poor  Grissel  now  is  gone  ; 
Full  fifteen  winters  she  lived  there  contented, 

No  wrong  she  thought  upon  ; 
And  at  that  time  thro'  all  the  land  the  speeches 
went,  1*5 

The  marquess  should  married  be 
Unto  a  noble  lady  of  high  descent, 


214  PATIENT    GRISSEL. 

And  to  the  same  all  parties  did  agree. 
The  marquess  sent  for  Grissel  fair 
The  bride's  bed-chamber  to  prepare,  i» 

That  nothing  should  therein  be  found  awry ; 
The  bride  was  with  her  brother  come, 
Which  was  great  joy  to  all  and  some  ; 

And  Grissel  took  all  this  most  patiently. 

And  in  the  morning  when  that  they  should  be 
wedded,  IM 

Her  patience  now  was  try'd ; 
Grissel  was  charged  in  princely  manner 

For  to  attire  the  bride. 
Most  willingly  she  gave  consent  unto  the  same ; 

The  bride  in  her  bravery  was  drest,  ieo 

And  presently  the  noble  marquess  thither  came, 

With  all  the  ladies  at  his  request. 
"  Oh  Grissel,  I  would  ask  of  thee 
If  to  this  match  thou  wouldst  agree  ? 

Methinks  thy  looks  are  waxed  wondrous  coy."  i& 
With  that  they  all  began  to  smile, 
And  Grissel  she  replies  the  while, 

"  God  send  lord  marquess  many  years  of  joy !  " 

The  marquis  was  moved  to  see  his  best  beloved 
Thus  patient  in  distress ;  iro 

He  stept  unto  her,  and  by  the  hand  he  took  her  ; 
These  words  he  did  express  : 

•'*  Thou  art  the  bride,  and  all  the  brides  I  mean  to 
have; 


PATIENT    GRISSEL.  215 

These  two  thy  own  children  be." 
The   youthful   lady  on   her   knees   did   blessing 
crave,  i« 

The  brother  as  willing  as  she. 
"  And  you  that  envy  her  estate, 
Whom  I  have  made  my  loving  mate, 

Now  blush  for  shame,  and  honour  vertuous  life  ; 
The  chronicles  of  lasting  fame  180 

Shall  evermore  extol  the  name 

Of  patient  Grissel,  my  most  constant  wife." 


THE  KING  OF  FRANCE'S  DAUGHTER. 

FROM  Thomas  Delcney's  Garland  of  Good  Will, 
as  reprinted  by  the  Percy  Society,  vol.  xxx.  p.  52. 
Other  copies  are  in  Old  Ballads,  (1723,)  i.  181,  Rit- 
son's  Ancient  Songs,  ii.  136,  and  Percy's  Reliques,  iii. 
207, — the  last  altered  by  the  editor. 

In  the  days  of  old, 

When  fair  France  did  flourish, 
Stories  plainly  told 

Lovers  felt  annoy. 
The  king  a  daughter  had,  « 

Beauteous,  fair,  and  lovely, 
Which  made  her  father  glad, 

She  was  his  only  joy. 
A  prince  of  England  came, 
Whose  deeds  did  merit  fame,  u> 

He  woo'd  her  long,  and  lo,  at  last, 
Look,  what  he  did  require, 
She  granted  his  desire, 

12,  Took. 


THE  KING  OF  FRANCE'S  DAUGHTER.   217 

Their  hearts  in  one  were  linked  fast. 
Which  when  her  father  proved,  M 

Lord,  how  he  was  moved 

And  tormented  in  his  mind ; 
He  sought  for  to  prevent  them, 
And  to  discontent  them, — 

Fortune  crosses  lovers  kind.  20 

Whenas  these  princely  twain 

Were  thus  debarr'd  of  pleasure, 
Through  the  king's  disdain, 

Which  their  joys  withstood, 
The  lady  lockt  up  close  25 

Her  jewels  and  her  treasure, 
Having  no  remorse 

Of  state  or  royal  blood. 
In  homely  poor  array, 
She  went  from  court  away,  w 

To  meet  her  love  and  heart's  delight ; 
Who  in  a  forest  great, 
Had  taken  up  his  seat, 

To  wait  her  coming  in  the  night. 
But  lo,  what  sudden  danger,  & 

To  this  princely  stranger, 

Chanced  as  he  sat  alone, 
By  outlaws  he  was  robbed, 
And  with  poinard  stabbed, 

Uttering  many  a  dying  groan.  <o 

80,  to  court. 


218      THE    KING    OF    FRANCE'S    DAUGHTER. 

The  princess,  armed  by  him, 

And  by  true  desire, 
Wandering  all  that  night, 

Without  dread  at  all, 
Still  unknown,  she  past  v. 

In  her  strange  attire, 
Coming  at  the  last 

Within  echo's  call. 
"  You  fair  woods,"  quoth  she, 
"  Honoured  may  you  be,  * 

Harbouring  my  heart's  delight, 
Which  doth  encompass  here, 
My  joy  and  only  dear, 

My  trusty  friend,  and  comely  knight. 
Sweet,  I  come  unto  thee,  « 

Sweet,  I  come  to  wooe  thee. 

That  thou  may'st  not  angry  be ; 
For  my  long  delaying, 
And  thy  courteous  staying, 

Amends  for  all  I  make  to  thee."  » 

Passing  thus  alone 

Through  the  silent  forest, 
Many  a  grievous  groan 

Sounded  in  her  ear ; 
Where  she  heard  a  man  &•> 

To  lament  the  sorest 
Chance  that  ever  came, 

Forc'd  by  deadly  fear. 
"  Farewel,  my  dear !  "  quoth  he, 


THE  KING  OF  FRANCE'S  DAUGHTER.   219 

"  Whom  I  shall  never  see,  70 

For  why,  my  life  is  at  an  end ; 
For  thy  sweet  sake  I  die, 
Through  villain's  cruelty, 

To  shew  I  am  a  faithful  friend. 
Here  lie  I  a-bleeding,  75 

While  my  thoughts  are  feeding 

On  the  rarest  beauty  found  ; 
O  hard  hap  that  may  be, 
Little  knows  my  lady 

My  heart-blood  lies  on  the  ground ! "    w 

With  that  he  gave  a  groan 

That  did  break  asunder 
All  the  tender  strings 

Of  his  gentle  heart : 
She,  who  knew  his  voice,  * 

At  his  tale  did  wonder  ; 
All  her  former  joys 

Did  to  grief  convert. 
Straight  she  ran  to  see 
Who  this  man  should  be,  » 

That  so  like  her  love  did  speak ; 
And  found,  whenas  she  came, 
Her  lovely  lord  lay  slain, 

Smeer'd  in  blood  which  life  did  break. 
Which  when  that  she  espied,  as 

Lord,  how  sore  she  cried  ! 

Her  sorrows  could  not  counted  be ; 
Her  eyes  like  fountains  running, 


220      THE    KING    OF    FRANCE'S    DAUGHTER. 

While  she  cryed  out,  "  My  darling, 

Would  God  that  I  had  dy'd  for  thee  !  "  100 

His  pale  lips,  alas  ! 

Twenty  times  she  kissed, 
And  his  face  did  wash 

With  her  brinish  tears  ; 
Every  bleeding  wound  H» 

Her  fair  face  bedewed, 
Wiping  off  the  blood 

With  her  golden  hairs. 
["  Speak,  my  love,"  quoth  she,] 
"  Speak,  fair  prince,  to  me  ;  110 

One  sweet  word  of  comfort  give  ; 
Lift  up  thy  fair  eyes, 
Listen  to  my  cries, 

Think  in  what  great  grief  I  live." 
All  in  vain  she  sued,  us 

All  in  vain  she  wooed, 

The  prince's  life  was  fled  and  gone  ; 
There  stood  she  still  mourning 
'Till  the  sun's  returning, 

And  bright  day  was  coming  on.  120 

In  this  great  distress 

Quoth  this  royal  lady, 
"Who  can  now  express 

What  will  become  of  me  ? 

109,  from  Old  Ballads,  1723. 


THE    KING    OF   FRANCE'S    DAUGHTER.      221 

To  my  father's  court  i* 

Never  will  I  wander, 
But  some  service  seek 

Where  I  may  placed  be." 
Whilst  she  thus  made  her  moan, 
Weeping  all  alone,  13° 

In  this  deep  and  deadly  fear, 
A  forester  all  in  green, 
Most  comely  to  be  seen, 

Ranging  the  wood  did  find  her  there, 
Round  beset  with  sorrow.  w 

"  Maid,"  quoth  he,  "  good  morrow. 

What  hard  hap  hath  brought  you  here  ?  " 
"  Harder  hap  did  never 
Chance  to  a  maiden  ever ; 

Here  lies  slain  my  brother  dear.          HO 

"  Where  might  I  be  plac'd, 

Gentle  forester  tell  me  ; 
Where  might  I  procure 

A  service  in  my  need? 
Pains  I  will  not  spare,  J« 

But  will  do  my  duty  ; 
Ease  me  of  my  care, 

Help  my  extream  need." 
The  forester  all  amazed 
On  her  beauty  gazed,  i» 

'Till  his  heart  was  set  on  fire : 
"  If,  fair  maid,"  quoth  he, 
"  You  will  go  with  me, 


222      THE    KING    OF    FRANCE'S    DAUGHTER. 

You  shall  have  your  heart's  desire." 
He  brought  her  to  his  mother,  is> 

And  above  all  other 

He  set  forth  this  maiden's  praise : 
Long  was  his  heart  inflamed, 
At  length  her  love  he  gained, 

So  fortune  did  his  glory  raise.  i«n 

Thus  unknown  he  matcht 

With  the  king's  fair  daughter  ; 
Children  seven  he  had, 

Ere  she  to  him  was  known. 
But  when  he  understood  ios 

She  was  a  royal  princess, 
By  this  means  at  last 

He  shewed  forth  her  fame  : 
He  cloath'd  his  children  then 
Not  like  other  men,  no 

In  party  colours  strange  to  see  ; 
The  right  side  cloth  of  gold, 

169-174.  "  This  will  remind  the  reader  of  the  livery  and 
device  of  Charles  Brandon,  a  private  gentleman,  who  mar 
ried  the  Queen  Dowager  of  France,  sister  of  Henry  VIII. 
At  a  tournament  which  he  held  at  his  wedding,  the  trappings 
of  his  horse  were  half  cloth  of  gold,  and  half  frieze,  with  the 
following  motto: 

*  Cloth  of  Gold,  do  not  despise, 

Tho'  thou  art  matcht  with  Cloth  of  Frize; 

Cloth  of  Frize,  be  not  too  bold, 

Tho'  thou  art  matcht  with  Cloth  of  Gold.' 

See  Sir  W.  Temple's  Misc.  vol.  iii.  p.   356."    PKBCY. 


THE    KING    OF    FRANCE'S    DAUGHTER.      223 

The  left  side  to  behold 

Of  woollen  cloth  still  framed  he. 
Men  thereat  did  wonder,  175 

Golden  fame  did  thunder 

This  strange  deed  in  every  place ; 
The  king  of  France  came  thither 
Being  pleasant  weather, 

In  the  woods  the  hart  to  chase.  iso 

The  children  there  did  stand, 

As  their  mother  willed, 
Where  the  royal  king 

Must  of  force  come  by ; 
Their  mother  richly  clad  iss 

In  fair  crimson  velvet, 
Their  father  all  in  gray, 

Most  comely  to  the  eye. 
When  this  famous  king, 
Noting  every  thing,  ia> 

Did  ask  him  how  he  durst  be  so  bold, 
To  let  his  wife  to  wear, 
And  deck  his  children  there, 

In  costly  robes  of  pearl  and  gold, — 
The  forester  bold  replied,  195 

And  the  cause  descried, 

And  to  the  king  he  thus  did  say : 
"  Well  may  they  by  their  mother 
Wear  rich  gold  like  other, 

Being  by  birth  a  princess  gay."  200 

178,  king  he  coming. 


224  THE  KING  OF  FRANCE'S  DAUGHTER. 

The  king  upon  these  words 

More  needfully  beheld  them, 
Till  a  crimson  blush 

His  conceit  did  cross. 
"  The  more  I  look,"  quoth  he,  205 

Upon  thy  wife  and  children, 
The  more  I  call  to  mind 

My  daughter  whom  I  lost." 
« I  am  that  Child,"  quoth  she, 
Falling  on  her  knee  ;  210 

"  Pardon  me  my  soveraign  liege  ! " 
The  king  perceiving  this 
His  daughter  dear  did  kiss, 

Till  joyful  tears  did  stop  his  speech. 
With  his  train  he  turned,  215 

And  with  her  sojourned  ; 

Straight  he  dubb'd  her  husband  knight ; 
He  made  him  Earl  of  Flanders, 
One  of  his  chief  commanders ; — 

Thus  was  their  sorrow  put  to  flight.     220 


CONSTANCE  OF  CLEVELAND. 

From  Collier's  Book  ofRoxburghe  Ballads,  p.  163. 

"  THIS  romantic  ballad,  in  a  somewhat  plain  and 
unpretending  style,  relates  incidents  that  may  remind 
the  reader  of  the  old  story  of  Titus  and  Gisippus, 
which  was  told  in  English  verse  by  Edw.  Lewicke,  as 
early  as  1562  :  the  ballad  is  not  so  ancient  by,  per 
haps,  thirty  or  forty  years  ;  and  the  printed  copy  that 
has  come  down  to  our  day  is  at  least  fifty  years  more 
recent  than  the  date  when  we  believe  the  ballad  to 
have  been  first  published.  The  title  the  broadside 
(  '  Printed  for  F.  Coles,  J.  W.,  T.  Vere,  W.  Gilbert- 
son,')  bears  is,  '  Constance  of  Cleveland:  A  very  ex 
cellent  Sonnet  of  the  most  fair  Lady  Constance  of 
Cleveland,  and  her  disloyal  Knight'  We  conclude 
that  the  incidents  are  mere  invention,  but  Constance 
of  Rome  is  the  name  of  a  play,  by  Drayton,  Mun- 
day  and  Hathway,  mentioned  in  Henslowe's  Diary 
under  the  year  1600,  (p.  171.)  The  tune  of  Crim 
son  Velvet  was  highly  popular  in  the  reigns  of  Eliza 
beth  and  her  successor." 

VOL.  IV.  15 


226       CONSTANCE  OF  CLEVELAND. 


To  the  Tune  of  Crimson  Velvet. 

IT  was  a  youthfull  knight 

Lov'd  a  gallant  lady ; 
Fair  she  was  and  bright, 

And  of  vertues  rare  : 
Herself  she  did  behave 

So  courteously  as  may  be  ; 
Wedded  they  were  brave  ; 

Joy  without  compare. 
Here  began  the  grief, 
Pain  without  relief : 

Her  husband  soon  her  love  forsook, 
To  women  lewd  of  mind, 
Being  bad  inclin'd, 

He  only  lent  a  pleasant  look. 
The  lady  she  sate  weeping, 
While  that  he  was  keeping 

Company  with  others  moe : 
Her  words,  "  My  love,  beleeve  not, 
Come  to  me,  and  grieve  not ; 

Wantons  will  thee  overthrow." 

His  fair  Ladie's  words 

Nothing  he  regarded ; 
Wantonnesse  affords 

Such  delightfull  sport. 
While  they  dance  and  sing, 

With  great  mirth  prepared, 


CONSTANCE    OF    CLEVELAND.  2'27 

She  her  hands  did  wring 

In  most  grievous  sort. 
"  O  what  hap  had  I 
Thus  to  wail  and  cry,  so 

Unrespected  every  day, 
Living  in  disdain, 
While  that  others  gain 

All  the  right  I  should  enjoy ! 
I  am  left  forsaken,  ss 

Others  they  are  taken  : 

Ah  my  love  !  why  dost  thou  so  ? 
Her  flatteries  beleeve  not, 
Come  to  me,  and  grieve  not ; 

Wantons  will  thee  overthrow."  40 

The  Knight  with  his  fair  peece 

At  length  the  Lady  spied, 
Who  did  him  daily  fleece 

Of  his  wealth  and  store  : 
Secretly  she  stood,  45 

While  she  her  fashions  tryed, 
With  a  patient  mind, 

While  deep  the  strumpet  swore. 
"  O  Sir  Knight,  O  Sir  Knight,"  quoth  she, 
"  So  dearly  I  love  thee,  so 

My  life  doth  rest  at  thy  dispose : 
By  day,  and  eke  by  night, 
For  thy  sweet  delight, 

Thou  shalt  me  in  thy  arms  inclose. 
I  am  thine  for  ever :  ss 


228  CONSTANCE    OF    CLEVELAND. 

Still  I  will  persever 

True  to  thee,  where  ere  I  go." 
"  Her  flatteries  believe  not, 
Come  to  me,  and  grieve  not ; 

Wantons  will  thee  overthrow." 

The  vertuous  Lady  mild 

Enters  then  among  them, 
Being  big  with  child 

As  ever  she  might  be  : 
With  distilling  tears 

She  looked  then  upon  them ; 
Filled  full  of  fears, 

Thus  replyed  she : 
"  Ah,  my  love  and  dear  ! 
Wherefore  stay  you  here, 

Refusing  me,  your  loving  wife, 
For  an  harlot's  sake, 
Which  each  one  will  take  ; 

Whose  vile  deeds  provoke  much  strife  ? 
Many  can  accuse  her  : 
O  my  love,  O  my  love,  refuse  her ! 

With  thy  lady  home  return. 
Her  flatteries  beleeve  not, 
Come  to  me,  and  grieve  not; 

Wantons  will  thee  overthrow." 

All  in  a  fury  then 

The  angry  Knight  up  started, 
Very  furious  when 

He  heard  his  Ladie's  speech. 


CONSTANCE    OF    CLEVELAND.  229 

"With  many  bitter  terms  « 

His  wife  he  ever  thwarted, 
Using  hard  extreams, 

While  she  did  him  beseech. 
From  her  neck  so  white 
He  took  away  in  spite  9° 

Her  curious  chain  of  purest  gold, 
Her  jewels  and  her  rings, 
And  all  such  costly  things 

As  he  about  her  did  behold. 
The  harlot  in  her  presence  « 

He  did  gently  reverence, 

And  to  her  he  gave  them  all : 
He  sent  away  his  Lady, 
Full  of  wo  as  may  be, 

Who  in  a  swound  with  grief  did  fall.       100 

At  the  Ladie's  wrong 

The  harlot  fleer'd  and  laughed  ; 
Enticements  are  so  strong, 

They  overcome  the  wise. 
The  Knight  nothing  regarded  IM 

To  see  the  Lady  scoffed : 
Thus  was  she  rewarded 

For  her  enterprise. 
The  harlot,  all  this  space, 
Did  him  oft  embrace  ;  "° 

She  flatters  him,  and  thus  doth  say : 
"  For  thee  He  dye  and  live, 
For  thee  my  faith  He  give, 

No  wo  shall  work  my  love's  decay ; 


230  CONSTANCE    OP    CLEVELAND. 

Thou  sbalt  be  my  treasure,  us 

Thou  shalt  be  my  pleasure, 

Thou  shalt  be  my  heart's  delight : 
I  will  be  thy  darling, 
I  will  be  thy  worldling, 

In  despight  of  fortune's  spight."  120 

Thus  he  did  remain 

In  wastfull  great  expences, 
Till  it  bred  his  pain, 

And  consumed  him  quite. 
When  his  lands  were  spent,  125 

Troubled  in  his  sences, 
Then  he  did  repent 

Of  his  late  lewd  life. 
For  relief  he  hies, 
For  relief  he  flyes  iso 

To  them  on  whom  he  spent  his  gold : 
They  do  him  deny, 
They  do  him  dene  ; 

They  will  not  once  his  face  behold. 
Being  thus  distressed,  135 

Being  thus  oppressed, 

In  the  fields  that  night  he  lay ; 
Which  the  harlot  knowing, 
Through  her  malice  growing, 

Sought  to  take  his  life  away.  wo 

A  young  and  proper  lad 
They  had  slain  in  secret 


CONSTANCE    OF    CLEVELAND.  231 

For  the  gold  he  had, 

Whom  they  did  convey- 
By  a  ruffian  lewd  14C 

To  that  place  directly, 
Where  the  youthful  Knight 

Fast  a  sleeping  lay. 
The  bloody  dagger  than, 
Wherewith  they  kill'd  the  man,  iso 

Hard  by  the  Knight  he  likewise  laid, 
Sprinkling  him  with  blood, 
As  he  thought  it  good, 

And  then  no  longer  there  he  stayd. 
The  Knight,  being  so  abused,  IM 

Was  forthwith  accused 

For  this  murder  which  was  done  ; 
And  he  was  condemned 
That  had  not  offended ; 

Shamefull  death  he  might  not  shun.         iw 

When  the  Lady  bright 

Understood  the  matter, 
That  her  wedded  Knight 

Was  condemn'd  to  dye, 
To  the  King  she  went  i« 

With  all  the  speed  that  might  be, 
Where  she  did  lament 

Her  hard  destiny. 
"  Noble  King  !  "  quoth  she, 
'•  Pitty  take  on  me,  17° 

And  pardon  my  poor  husbands  life  ; 


232  CONSTANCE    OF    CLEVELAND. 

Else  I  am  undone, 
With  my  little  son  : 

Let  mercy  mitigate  this  grief." 
"  Lady  fair,  content  thee  ;  "« 

Soon  thou  wouldst  repent  thee, 

If  he  should  be  saved  so  : 
Sore  he  hath  abus'd  thee, 
Sore  he  hath  misus'd  thee  ; 

Therefore,  Lady,  let  him  go."  iao 

"  O  my  liege  !  "  quoth  she, 

"  Grant  your  gracious  favour  : 
Dear  he  is  to  me, 

Though  he  did  me  wrong." 
The  King  reply'd  again,  w 

With  a  stern  behaviour, 
"  A  subject  he  hath  slain, 

Dye  he  shall  ere  long: 
Except  thou  canst  find 
Any  one  so  kind,  iw 

That  will  dye  and  set  him  free." 
"  Noble  King  ! "  she  said, 
"  Glad  am  I  apaid ; 

That  same  person  will  I  be. 
I  will  suffer  duly,  i9« 

I  will  suffer  truly, 

For  my  love  and  husbands  sake." 
The  King  thereat  amazed, 
Though  he  her  beauty  praised, 

He  bad  from  thence  they  should  her  take. 


CONSTANCE    OF    CLEVELAND.  233 

It  was  the  King's  command,  aoi 

On  the  morrow  after 
She  should  out  of  hand 

To  the  scaffold  go : 
Her  husband  was  205 

To  bear  the  sword  before  her ; 
He  must  eke,  alas ! 

Give  the  deadly  blow. 
He  refus'd  the  deed  ; 
She  bid  him  to  proceed,  210 

With  a  thousand  kisses  sweet. 
In  this  wofull  case 
They  did  both  imbrace, 

Which  mov'd  the  ruffians  in  that  place 
Straight  for  to  discover  215 

This  concealed  murder ; 

Whereby  the  lady  saved  was. 
The  harlot  then  was  hanged, 
As  she  well  deserved  : 

This  did  vertue  bring  to  passe.  220 


WILLOW,  WILLOW,  WILLOW. 

From  Percy's  Reliques,  i.  210. 

THIS  is  the  "  song  of  willow "  from  which  Desde- 
mona  sings  snatches  in  the  Fourth  Act  of  Othello, 
(Sc.  3.)  The  portions  which  occur  in  Shakespeare 
are  the  first  stanza,  and  fragments  of  the  fifth,  sixth, 
and  seventh ;  he  also  introduces  a  couplet  which  does 
not  belong  to  the  ballad  as  here  given. 

The  Second  Part  is  very  likely  a  separate  composi 
tion.  Songs  upon  this  model  or  with  the  same  burden 
were  not  infrequent.  See  one  in  Park's  Heliconia, 
Part  i.  132,  and  another  in  The  Moral  Play  of  Wit 
and  Science,  (Shakespeare  Society,)  p.  86. 

Percy  gave  this  song  from  a  black-letter  copy  in  the 
Pepys  collection,  entitled  A  Lover's  Complaint,  being 
forsaken  of  his  Love.  Another  version,  differing  prin 
cipally  in  arrangement,  is  printed  in  the  above  cited 
publication  of  the  Shakespeare  Society,  p.  126,  from 
a  MS.  in  the  British  Museum,  "  written  about  the  year 
1633." 

A  POORE  soule  sat  sighing  under  a  sicamore  tree ; 

0  willow,  willow,  willow  ! 
With  his  hand  on  his  bosom,  his  head  on  his  knee. 

0  willow,  willow,  willow  ! 

0  willow,  willow,  willow  !  & 

Sing,  0  the  greene  willow  shall  be  my  garland. 


WILLOW,    WILLOW,    WILLOW.  235 

He  sigh'd  in  his  singing,  and  after  each  grone, 

Come  willow,  fyc. 

"  I   am   dead   to   all   pleasure,   my  true-love   is 
gone. 

0  willow,  fyc.  10 

Sing,  0  the  greene  willow  shall  be  my  garland. 

"  My  love  she  is  turned :  untrue  she  doth  prove ; 

0  willow,  fyc. 
She  renders  me  nothing  but  hate  for  my  love. 

O  willow,  fyc.  is 

Sing,  0  the  greene  willow,  fyc. 

"  0  pitty  me,"  cried  he,  "  ye  lovers,  each  one  ; 

0  willow,  8fc. 

Her  heart's  hard  as  marble  ;   she  rues  not  my 
mone. 

0  willow,  8fc.  20 

Sing,  0  the  greene  willow,  fyc" 

The  cold  streams  ran  by  him,  his  eyes  wept  apace  ; 

0  willow,  fyc. 

The  salt  tears  fell  from  him,  which  drowned  his 
face. 

0  willow,  fyc.  25 

Sing,  0  the  greene  willow,  fyc. 

The  mute  birds  sate  by  him,  made  tame  by  his 

mones  ; 
0  willow,  Sfc. 


236      WILLOW,  WILLOW,  WILLOW. 

The  salt  tears  fell  from  him,  which  softened  the 

stones. 

0  willow,  fyc.  so 

Sing,  0  the  greene  willow  shall  be  my  garland. 

"  Let  nobody  blame  me,  her  scornes  I  do  prove  ; 

0  willow,  fyc. 
She  was  borne  to  be  faire ;  I,  to  die  for  her  love. 

0  Willow,  SfC.  35 

Sing,  0  the  greene  willow,  fyc. 

"  O  that  beauty  should  harbour  a  heart  that's  so 
hard! 

Sing  willow,  fyc. 
My  true  love  rejecting  without  all  regard. 

0  willow,  fyc.  40 

Sing,  0  the  greene  willow,  fyc. 

"  Let  love  no  more  boast  him  in  palace  or  bower  ; 

0  willow,  fyc. 
For  women  are  trothles,  and  flote  in  an  houre. 

0  willow,  fyc.  45 

Sing,  0  the  greene  willow,  fyc. 

"  But  what  helps  complaining  ?     In  vaine  I  com- 
plaine : 

0  willow,  fyc. 
I  must  patiently  suffer  her  scorne  and  disdaine. 

0  willow,  S?c.  so 

Sing,  0  the  greene  willow,  fyc. 


WILLOW,    WILLOW,    WILLOW.  237 

"  Come,  all  you  forsaken,  and  sit  down  by  me, 

0  willow,  fyc. 

He  that  'plaines  of  his  false  love,  mine's  falser 
than  she. 

0  willowy  fyc.  & 

Sing,  0  the  greene  willow  shall  be  my  garland. 

"  The  willow  wreath  weare  I,  since  my  love  did 
fleet; 

0  willow,  fyc. 
A  garland  for  lovers  forsaken  most  meete. 

0  willow,  fyc.  eo 

Sing,  0  the  greene  willow  shall  be  my  garland!  " 


PART    THE    SECOND. 

"  LOWE  lay'd  by  my  sorrow,  begot  by  disdaine, 

0  willow,  willow,  willow  ! 
Against  her  too  cruell,  still,  still  I  complaine. 

0  willow,  willow,  wilfow  ! 

0  willow,  willow,  willow  !  s 

Sing,  0  the  greene  willow  shall  be  my  garland  ! 

"  0  love  too  injurious,  to  wound  my  poore  heart, 

0  willow,  8fc. 
To  suffer  the  triumph,  and  joy  in  my  smart ! 

0  willow,  fyc.  10 

Sing,  0  the  greene  willow,  fyc. 


238  WILLOW,    WILLOW,    WILLOW. 

"  O  willow,  willow,  willow !  the  willow  garland, 

0  willow,  3?c. 
A  sign  of  her  falsenesse  before  me  doth  stand. 

0  willow,  fyc.  n 

Sing,  0  the  greene  willow  shall  be  my  garland. 

"As  here  it  doth  bid  to  despair  and  to  dye, 

0  willow,  fyc. 
So  hang  it,  friends,  ore  me  in  grave  where  I  lye. 

0  willow,  fyc.  20 

Sing,  0  the  greene  willow,  fyc. 

"  In  grave  where  I  rest  mee,  hang  this  to  the  view, 

0  willow,  fyc. 
Of  all  that  doe  knowe  her,  to  blaze  her  untrue. 

0  willow,  Syc.  25 

Sing,  0  the  greene  willow,  fyc. 

"  With  these  words  engraven,  as  epitaph  meet, 

0  willow,  fyc. 

'  Here   lyes  one,  drank  poyson  for  potion  most 
sweet.' 

0  willow,  fyc.  so 

Sing,  0  the  greene  willow,  Sfc. 

"  Though  she  thus  unkindly  hath  scorned  my  love, 

0  willow,  fyc. 
And  carelesly  smiles  at  the  sorrowes  I  prove ; 

0  willow,  fyc.  35 

Sing,  0  the  greene  willow,  fyc. 


WILLOW,  WILLOW,  WILLOW.      239 

"  I  cannot  against  her  unkindly  exclaim, 

0  willow,  fyc. 

Cause  once  well  I  loved  her,  and  honoured  her 
name. 

0  willow,  fyc.  « 

Sing,  0  the  greene  willow  shall  be  my  garland. 

"  The  name  of  her  sounded  so  sweete  in  mine  eare, 

0  willow,  S?c. 
It  rays'd  my  heart  lightly,  the  name  of  my  deare ; 

0  willow,  fyc.  « 

Sing,  0  the  greene  willow,  fyc. 

"  As  then  'twas  my  comfort,  it  now  is  my  griefe  ; 

0  willow,  fyc. 
It  now  brings  me  anguish ;  then  brought  me  reliefe. 

0  willow,  fyc.  w 

Sing,  0  the  greene  willow,  fyc. 

"  Farewell,  faire  false  hearted,  plaints  end  with 

my  breath ! 

0  willow,  willow,  willow  ! 
Thou  dost  loath  me,  I  love  thee,  though  cause  of 

my  death. 

0  willow,  willow,  willow  !  w 

0  willow,  willow,  willow  ! 
Sing,  0  the  greene  willow  shall  be  my  garland" 


GREENSLEEVES. 

FROM  A  Handefull  of  Pleasant  Delites,  &c.,  Lon 
don,  1584,  as  reprinted  in  Park's  Heliconia,  vol.  ii. 
p.  23.  It  is  there  entitled  A  New  Courtly  Sonet  of  the 
Lady  Greensleeves.  To  the  new  Tune  of  Greensleeves. 

"  The  earliest  mention  of  the  ballad  of  Green  Sleeves, 
in  the  Registers  of  the  Stationers'  Company,  is  in  Sep 
tember,  1580,  when  Richard  Jones  had  licensed  to  him 
A  New  Northern  Ditty e  of  the  Lady  Green  Sleeves." 

"  Green  Sleeves,  or  Which  nobody  can  deny,  has 
been  a  favorite  tune  from  the  time  of  Elizabeth  to  the 
present  day,  and  is  still  frequently  to  be  heard  in  the 
streets  of  London  to  songs  with  the  old  burden,  Which 
nobody  can  deny.  It  will  also  be  recognized  as  the 
air  of  Christmas  comes  but  once  a  year,  and  many 
another  merry  ditty."  CHAPPELL'S  Popular  Music 
of  the  Olden  Time,  p.  227. 

Greensleeves  is  twice  alluded  to  by  Shakespeare  in 
The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor;  Act  ii.  Sc.  1 ;  Act  v. 
Sc.  5. 


ALAS,  my  love,  ye  do  me  wrong 
To  cast  me  oft  discurteously, 
And  I  have  loved  you  so  long, 
Delighting  in  your  companie. 
Greensleeves  was  all  my  joy, 
Gh'eensleeves  was  my  delight, 


GREENSLEEVES.  241 

Greensleeves  was  my  heart  of  gold. 
And  who  but  Ladie  Greensleeves. 

I  have  been  readie  at  your  hand  « 

To  grant  what  ever  you  would  crave ; 

I  have  both  waged  life  and  land, 

Your  love  and  good  will  for  to  have. 
Greensleeves  was  aU  my  joy,  §c. 

I  bought  thee  kerchers  to  thy  head 

That  were  wrought  fine  and  gallantly ;         10 
I  kept  thee  both  at  boord  and  bed, 

Which  cost  my  purse  well  favouredly. 
Greensleeves  was  all  my  joie,  fyc. 

J  bought  thee  peticotes  of  the  best, 
The  cloth  so  fine  as  fine  might  be ; 

I  gave  thee  jewels  for  thy  chest,  u 

And  all  this  cost  I  spent  on  thee. 

Greensleeves  was  all  my  joie,  fyc. 

Thy  smock  of  silke,  both  faire  and  white, 
With  gold  embrodered  gorgeously, 

Thy  peticote  of  sendall  right, 

And  this  I  bought  thee  gladly.  20 

Greensleeves  was  all  my  joie,  fyc. 

Thy  girdle  of  gold  so  red, 

With  pearles  bedecked  sumtuously, — 
20,  And  thus. 

VOL.  rv.  16 


242  GREENSLEEVES. 

The  like  no  other  lasses  had, — 

And  yet  thou  wouldest  not  love  me. 
Greensleeves  was  all  myjoie,  S?c. 

Thy  purse,  and  eke  thy  gay  guilt  knives, 
Thy  pincase,  gallant  to  the  eie, — 

No  better  wore  the  burgesse  wives, — 
And  yet  thou  wouldst  not  love  me. 
Greensleeves  was  all  my  joy,  fyc. 

Thy  crimson  stockings,  all  of  silk, 

With  golde  all  wrought  above  the  knee 

Thy  pumps,  as  white  as  was  the  milk, 
And  yet  thou  wouldst  not  love  me. 
Greensleeves  was  all  myjoie,  fyc. 

Thy  gown  was  of  the  grassie  green, 
Thy  sleeves  of  satten  hanging  by, 

.Which  made  thee  be  our  harvest  queen, 
And  yet  thou  wouldst  not  love  me. 
Greensleeves  was  all  myjoie,  fyc. 

Thy  garters  fringed  with  the  golde, 
And  silver  aglets  hanging  by, 

Which  made  thee  blithe  for  to  beholde, — 
And  yet  thou  wouldst  not  love  me. 
Greensleeves  was  all  myjoie,  fyc. 

My  gayest  gelding  I  thee  gave, 
To  ride  where  ever  liked  thee, 


GREENSLEEVES.  243 

No  ladie  ever  was  so  brave, 

And  yet  thou  wouldst  not  love  me. 
Greensleeves  was  all  myjoie,  fyc. 

My  men  were  clothed  all  in  green,  45 

And  they  did  ever  wait  on  thee  ; 
All  this  was  gallant  to  be  seen, 

And  yet  thou  wouldst  not  love  me. 
Greensleeves  was  all  myjoie,  fyc. 

They  set  thee  up,  they  took  thee  downe, 

They  served  thee  with  humilitie ;  .50 

Thy  foote  might  not  once  touch  the  ground, 
And  yet  thou  wouldst  not  love  me. 
Greensleeves  was  all  myjoie,  fyc. 

For  everie  morning,  when  thou  rose, 

I  sent  thee  dainties,  orderly, 
To  cheare  thy  stomack  from  all  woes,  M 

And  yet  thou  wouldst  not  love  me. 
Greensleeves  was  all  myjoie,  fyc. 

Thou  couldst  desire  no  earthly  thing 

But  stil  thou  hadst  it  readily ; 
Thy  musicke  still  to  play  and  sing, 

And  yet  thou  wouldst  not  love  me.  eo 

Greensleeves  was  all  my  joie,  §c. 

And  who  did  pay  for  all  this  geare, 

That  thou  didst  spend  when  pleased  thee  ? 


244  GREENSLEEVES. 

Even  I  that  am  rejected  here, 
And  thou  disdainst  to  love  me. 

Greensleeves  was  all  my  joie, 

Wei,  I  wil  pray  to  God  on  hie 

That  thou  my  constancie  maist  see, 

And  that  yet  once  before  I  die 
Thou  will  vouchsafe  to  love  me. 
Greensleeves  was  all  my  joie ', 

Greensleeves,  now  farewel,  adue  ! 

God  I  pray  to  prosper  thee, 
For  I  am  stil  thy  lover  true ; 

Come  once  againe,  and  love  me  ! 
Greensleeves  was  all  myjoie. 


ROBENE  AND  MAKYNE. 

THIS  exceedingly  pretty  pastoral,  the  earliest  poem 
of  the  kind  in  the  Scottish  language,  is  ascribed  in  the 
Bannatyne  MS.,  where  it  is  preserved,  to  Robert 
Henryson,  who  appears  to  have  written  in  the  latter 
half  of  the  fifteenth  century.  All  that  is  certainly 
known  of  the  author  is  that  he  was  chief  schoolmaster 
of  Dunfermline. 

Robene  and  Makyne  was  first  printed  by  Ramsay  in 
his  Evergreen,  (i.  56,)  and  afterwards  by  Lord  Hailes, 
in  Ancient  Scottish  Poems  published  from  the  MS.  of 
George  Bannatyne,  (p.  98.)  Some  freedoms  were 
taken  with  the  text  by  Ramsay,  and  one  line  was 
altered  by  Lord  Hailes.  Our  copy  is  given  from  Sib- 
bald's  Chronicle  of  Scottish  Poetry,  (i.  115,)  where  the 
manuscript  is  faithfully  adhered  to. 


ROBENE  sat  on  gud  grene  hill, 
Keipand  a  flok  of  fie : 

Mirry  Makyne  said  him  till, 
"  Robene,  thow  rew  on  me ; 


246  ROBENE    AND    MAKYNE. 

I  half  the  luvit,  lowd  and  still, 

Thir  yeiris  two  or  thre  ; 
My  dule  in  dern  bot  gif  thow  dill, 

Doutles  bot  dreid  I  de." 

Robene  answerit,  "  Be  the  rude, 

Na  thing  of  Me  I  knaw, 
Bot  keipis  my  scheip  undir  yone  wud  ; 

Lo  quhair  thay  raik  on  raw. 
Quhat  lies  marrit  the  in  thy  rnude, 

Makyne,  to  me  thow  schaw ; 
Or  quhat  is  love,  or  to  be  lude  ? 

Faine  wald  I  leir  that  law." 

"  At  luvis  lair  gife  thow  will  leir, 

Tak  thair  ane  A,  B,  C ; 
Be  kynd,  courtas,  and  fair  of  feir, 

Wyse,  hardy,  and  fre. 
Se  that  no  denger  do  the  deir, 

Quhat  dule  in  dern  thow  dr6  ; 
Preiss  the  with  pane  at  all  poweir, 

Be  patient  and  previe." 

Robene  answerit  her  agane  : 
"  I  wait  nocht  quhat  is  luve, 

Bot  I  haif  mervell  in  certaine, 
Quhat  makis  the"  this  wanrufe ; 

The  weddir  is  fair,  and  I  am  fane, 
My  scheip  gois  haill  aboif, 


ROBENE    AND    MAKYNE.  247 

And  we  wald  play  us  in  this  plane, 
They  wald  us  bayth  reproif." 

"  Robene,  tak  tent  unto  my  taill, 

And  wirk  all  as  I  reid, 
And  thow  sail  haif  my  hairt  all  haill,  & 

Eik  and  my  madinheid. 
Sen  God  sendis  bute  for  baill, 

And  for  murning  remeid, 
I  dern  with  the   bot  gif  I  daill, 

Dowbtles  I  am  bot  deid."  10 

"  Makyne,  to  morne  this  ilka  tyde, 

And  ye  will  meit  me  heir ; 
Perventure  my  scheip  ma  gang  besyd, 

Quhyll  we  haif  liggit  full  neir : 
Bot  maugre  haif  I,  and  I  byd,  « 

Fra  they  begin  to  steir ; 
Quhat  lyis  on  hairt  I  will  nocht  hyd  ; 

Makyne,  than  mak  gud  cheir." 

"  Robene,  thou  reivis  me  roiss  and  rest ; 

I  luve  bot  the  allone."  50 

"  Makyne,  adew,  the  sone  gois  west, 

The  day  is  neirhand  gone." 
"  Robene,  in  dule  I  am  so  drest, 

That  lufe  will  be  my  bone." 
"  Ga  lufe,  Makyne,  quhair  evir  thou  list,      « 

For  leman  I  lue  none." 


248  ROBENE    AND    MAKYNE. 

"  Robene,  I  stand  in  sic  a  style, 

I  sicht,  and  that  full  sair." 
"  Makyne,  I  haif  bene  heir  this  quyle  : 

At  hame  God  gif  I  wair ! " 
"  My  hinny,  Robene,  talk  ane  quhyle, 

Gif  thou  wilt  do  na  mair." 
"  Makyne,  sum  uthir  man  begyle, 

For  hamewart  I  will  fair." 

Robene  on  his  wayis  went, 

As  licht  as  leif  of  tr4  ; 
Makyne  murnit  in  her  intent, 

And  trowd  him  nevir  to  se. 
Robene  brayd  attour  the  bent ; 

Than  Makyne  cryit  on  hie, 
"  Now  ma  thow  sing,  for  I  am  schent ! 

Quhat  alis  lufe  with  me  ?  " 

Makyne  went  hame  withouttin  faill, 

Full  werry  eftir  cowth  weip  : 
Than  Robene  in  a  ful  fair  daill 

Assemblit  all  his  scheip. 
Be  that  sum  parte  of  Makyne's  ail 

Out  throw  his  hairt  cowd  creip  ; 
He  followit  hir  fast  thair  till  assail, 

And  till  her  tuke  gude  keep. 

"  Abyd,  abyd,  thou  fair  Makyne, 
A  word  for  ony  thing ; 


ROBENE    AND    MAKYNE.  249 

For  all  my  luve  it  sail  be  thyne, 

Withouttin  departing. 
All  haill !  thy  harte  for  till  haif  myne,          & 

Is  all  my  cuvating  ; 
My  scheip  to  morn,  quhill  houris  nyne, 

Will  neid  of  no  keping." 

"  Robene,  thou  hes  hard  soung  and  say, 

In  gestis  and  storeis  auld,  90 

The  man  that  will  not  quhen  he  may, 

Sail  haif  nocht  quhen  he  wold. 
I  pray  to  Jesu  every  day, 

Mot  eik  thair  cairis  cauld, 
That  first  preissis  with  the  to  play,  w 

Be  firth,  forrest,  or  fawld." 

"  Makyne,  the  nicht  is  soft  and  dry, 

The  wedder  is  warme  and  fair, 
And  the  grene  woud  rycht  neir  us  by 

To  walk  attour  all  quhair  :  100 

Thair  ma  na  janglour  us  espy, 

That  is  to  lufe  contrair ; 
Thairin,  Makyne,  bath  ye  and  I, 

Unsene  we  ma  repair." 

"  Robene,  that  warld  is  all  away,  ios 

And  quyt  brocht  till  ane  end, 
And  nevir  again  thereto,  perfay, 

Sail  it  be  as  thou  wend  ; 


250  ROBENE    AND    MAKYNE. 

For  of  my  pane  thou  maide  it  play, 

And  all  in  vane  I  spend  :  110 

As  thou  hes  done,  sa  sail  I  say, 
Murne  on,  I  think  to  mend." 

"  Makyne,  the  howp  of  all  my  heill, 

My  hairt  on  the  is  sett, 
And  evir  mair  to  the  be  leill,  us 

Quhile  I  may  leif  but  lett ; 
Nevir  to  faill,  as  utheris  faill, 

Quhat  grace  that  evir  I  gett." 
"  Robene,  with  the  I  will  not  deill ; 

Adew,  for  thus  we  mett."  120 

Makyne  went  hame  blyth  anewche, 

Attoure  the  holtis  hair  ; 
Robene  murnit,  and  Makyne  lewche  ; 

Scho  sang,  he  sichit  sair : 
And  so  left  him,  bayth  wo  and  wrench,       125 

In  dolour  and  in  cair, 
Kepand  his  hird  under  a  huche, 

Amang  the  holtis  hair. 


APPENDIX. 


APPENDIX. 


LORD  BEICHAN  AND  SUSIE  PYE.    See  p.  1. 

From  Kinloch's  Ancient  Scottish  Ballads,  p.  260. 

YOUNG  BEICHAN  was  in  London  born, 

He  was  a  man  of  hie  degree  ; 
He  past  thro'  monie  kingdoms  great, 

Until  he  cam  unto  Grand  Turkic. 

He  view'd  the  fashions  of  that  land,  I 

Their  way  of  worship  viewed  he ; 

But  unto  onie  of  their  stocks 

He  wadna  sae  much  as  bow  a  knee : 

Which  made  him  to  be  taken  straight, 

And  brought  afore  their  hie  jurie  ;  w 

The  savage  Moor  did  speak  upricht, 
And  made  him  meikle  ill  to  dree. 

In  ilka  shoulder  they've  bor'd  a  hole, 
And  in  ilka  hole  they've  put  a  tree ; 

They've  made  him  to  draw  carts  and  wains,        m 
Till  he  was  sick  and  like  to  dee. 


254          LORD    BEICHAN    AND    SUSIE    PYE. 

But  young  Beichan  was  a  Christian  born. 

And  still  a  Christian  was  he ; 
Which  made  them  put  him  in  prison  strang, 

And  cauld  and  hunger  sair  to  dree ; 
And  fed  on  nocht  but  bread  and  water, 

Until  the  day  that  he  mot  dee. 

In  this  prison  there  grew  a  tree, 
And  it  was  unco  stout  and  strano- : 

o   ' 

Where  he  was  chained  by  the  middle, 
Until  his  life  was  almaist  gane. 

The  savage  Moor  had  but  ae  dochter, 
And  her  name  it  was  Susie  Pye  ; 

And  ilka  day  as  she  took  the  air, 
The  prison  door  she  passed  bye. 

But  it  fell  ance  upon  a  day, 

As  she  was  walking,  she  heard  him  sing ; 
She  listen'd  to  his  tale  of  woe, 

A  happy  day  for  young  Beichan  ! 

"  My  hounds  they  all  go  masterless, 
My  hawks  they  flee  frae  tree  to  tree, 

My  youngest  brother  will  heir  my  lands, 
My  native  land  I'll  never  see." 

"  O  were  I  but  the  prison-keeper, 

As  I'm  a  ladie  o'  hie  degree, 
I  soon  wad  set  this  youth  at  large, 

And  send  him  to  his  ain  countrie." 

She  went  away  into  her  chamber, 
All  nichi  she  never  clos'd  her  ee  ; 


LORD    BEICHAN    AND    SUSIE    PYE.          255 

And  when  the  morning  begoud  to  dawn,  45 

At  the  prison  door  alane  was  she. 

She  gied  the  keeper  a  piece  of  gowd, 

And  monie  pieces  o'  white  monie, 
To  tak  her  thro'  the  bolts  and  bars ; 

The  lord  frae  Scotland  she  lang'd  to  see ;  —    .50 
She  saw  young  Beichan  at  the  stake, 

Which  made  her  weep  maist  bitterlie. 

"  O  hae  ye  got  onie  lands,"  she  says, 

"  Or  castles  in  your  ain  countrl^  ? 
It's  what  wad  ye  gie  to  the  ladie  fair  &* 

Wha  out  o'  prison  wad  set  you  free  ?  " 

"  It's  I  hae  houses,  and  I  hae  lands, 

Wi'  monie  castles  fair  to  see, 
And  I  wad  gie  a'  to  that  ladie  gay, 

Wha  out  o'  prison  wad  set  me  free."  eo 

The  keeper  syne  brak  aff  his  chains, 
And  set  Lord  Beichan  at  libertie  : — 

She  fill'd  his  pockets  baith  wi'  gowd, 
To  tak  him  till  his  ain  countrie. 

She  took  him  frae  her  father's  prison,  ss 

And  gied  to  him  the  best  o'  wine  ; 
And  a  brave  health  she  drank  to  him ; 

"  I  wish,  Lord  Beichan,  ye  were  mine ! 

"  It's  seven  lang  years  I'll  mak  a  vow, 

And  seven  lang  years  I'll  keep  it  true  ;  ro 

If  ye'll  wed  wi'  na  ither  woman, 
It's  I  will  wed  na  man  but  you." 


256          LORD    BEICHAN    AND    SUSIE   PYE. 

She's  tane  him  to  her  father's  port, 
And  gien  to  him  a  ship  o'  fame : — 

"  Farewell,  farewell,  my  Scottish  lord, 
I  fear  I'll  ne'er  see  you  again." 

Lord  Beichan  turn'd  him  round  about, 
And  lowly,  lowly,  loutit  he : — 

"  Ere  seven  lang  years  come  to  an  end, 
I'll  tak  you  to  mine  ain  countrie." 

*     *     *     * 

Then  when  he  cam  to  Glasgow  town, 
A  happy,  happy  man  was  he  ; 

The  ladies  a'  around  him  thrang'd, 
To  see  him  come  frae  slaverie. 

His  mother  she  had  died  o'  sorrow, 
And  a'  his  brothers  were  dead  but  he  ; 

His  lands  they  a'  were  lying  waste, 
In  ruins  were  his  castles  free. 

Na  porter  there  stood  at  his  yett 
Na  human  creature  he  could  see, 

Except  the  screeching  owls  and  bats, 
Had  he  to  bear  him  companie. 

But  gowd  will  gar  the  castles  grow, 
And  he  had  gowd  and  jewels  free ; 

And  soon  the  pages  around  him  thrang'd, 
To  serve  him  on  their  bended  knee. 

His  hall  was  hung  wi'  silk  and  satin, 
His  table  rung  wi'  mirth  and  glee  ; 

He  soon  forgot  the  lady  fair, 
That  lows'd  him  out  o'  slaverie. 


LORD    BEICHAN    AND    SUSIE    PYE.  257 

Lord  Beichan  courted  a  lady  gay, 
To  heir  wi'  him  his  lands  sae  free, 

Ne'er  thinking  that  a  lady  fair 

Was  on  her  way  frae  Grand  Turkic. 

For  Susie  Pye  could  get  na  rest,  105 

Nor  day  nor  nicht  could  happy  be, 

Still  thinking  on  the  Scottish  Lord, 
Till  she  was  sick  and  like  to  dee. 

But  she  has  builded  a  bonnie  ship, 

Weel  mann'd  wi'  seamen  o'  hie  degree ;         110 
And  secretly  she  stept  on  board, 

And  bid  adieu  to  her  ain  countrie. 

But  whan  she  cam  to  the  Scottish  shore, 
The  bells  were  ringing  sae  merrilie ; 

It  was  Lord  Beichan!s  wedding  day,  us 

Wi'  a  lady  fair  o'  hie  degree. 

But  sic  a  vessel  was  never  seen ; 

The  very  masts  were  tapp'd  wi'  gold ; 
Her  sails  were  made  o'  the  satin  fine, 

Maist  beautiful  for  to  behold.  120 

But  whan  the  lady  cam  on  shore, 

Attended  wi'  her  pages  three, 
Her  shoon  were  of  the  beaten  gowd, 

And  she  a  lady  of  great  beautie. 

Then  to  the  skipper  she  did  say,  125 

"  Can  ye  this  answer  gie  to  me — 
Where  are  Lord  Beichan 's  lands  sae  braid  ? 

He  surely  lives  in  this  countrie." 
VOL.  IV.  17 


258  LORD    BEICHAN   AND    SUSIE    PYE. 

Then  up  bespak  the  skipper  bold, — 

For  he  could  speak  the  Turkish  tongue, —  iso 

"  Lord  Beichan  lives  not  far  away ; 
This  is  the  day  of  his  wedding." 

"  If  ye  will  guide  me  to  Beichan's  yetts, 
I  will  ye  well  reward,"  said  she, — 

Then  she  and  all  her  pages  went,  135 

A  very  gallant  companie. 

When  she  cam  to  Lord  Beichan's  yetts, 

She  tirFd  gently  at  the  pin ; 
Sae  ready  was  the  proud  porter 

To  let  the  wedding  guests  come  in.  140 

"  Is  this  Lord  Beichan's  house,"  she  says, 

"  Or  is  that  noble  lord  within  ?  " 
"  Yes,  he  is  gane  into  the  hall, 

With  his  brave  bride  and  monie  ane." 

"  Ye'll  bid  him  send  me  a  piece  of  bread,          us 

Bot  and  a  cup  of  his  best  wine ; 
And  bid  him  mind  the  lady's  love 

That  ance  did  lowse  him  out  o'  pyne." 

Then  in  and  cam  the  porter  bold, — 

I  wat  he  gae  three  shouts  and  three, —  iso 

"  The  fairest  lady  stands  at  your  yetts 
That  ever  my  twa  een  did  see." 

Then  up  bespak  the  bride's  mither, — 
I  wat  an  angry  woman  was  she, — 

"You  micht  hae  excepted  our  bonnie  bride,      155 
Tho'  she'd  been  three  times  as  fair  as  she." 


LORD    BEICHAN   AND    SUSIE    PYE.  259 

"  My  dame,  your  daughter's  fair  enough, 

And  aye  the  fairer  mot  she  be  ! 
But  the  fairest  time  that  e'er  she  was, 

She'll  na  compare  wi'  this  ladie.  100 

"  She  has  a  gowd  ring  on  ilka  finger, 
And  on  her  mid-finger  she  has  three ; 

She  has  as  meikle  gowd  upon  her  head, 
As  wad  buy  an  earldom  o'  land  to  thee. 

"  My  lord,  she  begs  some  o'  your  bread,  165 

Bot  and  a  cup  o'  your  best  wine, 
And  bids  you  mind  the  lady's  love 

That  ance  did  lowse  ye  out  o'  pyne." 

Then  up  and  started  Lord  Beichan, — 

I  wat  he  made  the  table  flee, —  170 

"  I  wad  gie  a'  my  yearlie  rent 

'Twere  Susie  Pye  come  owre  the  sea." 

Syne  up  bespak  the  bride's  mother, — 
She  was  never  heard  to  speak  sae  free, — 

"  Ye'll  no  forsake  my  ae  dochter,  175 

Tho'  Susie  Pye  has  cross'd  the  sea  ?  " 

"  Tak  hame,  tak  hame,  your  dochter,  madam, 

For  she  is  ne'er  the  waur  o'  me  ; 
She  cam  to  me  on  horseback  riding, 

And  she  sail  gang  hame  in  chariot  free."        isc 

He's  tane  Susie  Pye  by  the  milk-white  hand, 

And  led  her  thro'  his  halls  sae  hie : 
"  Ye're  now  Lord  Beichan 's  lawful  wife, 

And  thrice  ye're  welcome  unto  me." 


260  LORD    BEICHAN    AND    SUSIE    PYE. 

Lord  Beichan  prepar'd  for  another  wedding,      185 
Wi'  baith  their  hearts  sae  fu'  o'  glee ; — 

Says,  "  I'll  range  na  mair  in  foreign  lands, 
Sin  Susie  Pye  has  cross'd  the  sea. 

"  Fy !  gar  a'  our  cooks  mak  ready ; 

And  fy  !  gar  a'  our  pipers  play ;  iao 

And  fy !  gar  trumpets  gae  thro'  the  toun, 

That  Lord  Beichau's  wedded  twice  in  a  day  ! " 


SWEET  WILLIAM.     See  p.  29. 

"  GIVEN  from  the  chanting  of  an  old  woman.  It 
has  never  been  before  printed."  MotherwelTs  Min 
strelsy,  p.  307. 

Other  versions  may  be  seen  in  that  careless  pub 
lication  of  the  Percy  Society,  Scottish  Traditional  Ver 
sions  of  Ancient  Ballads,  vol.  xvii.  p.  57,  Lord  William, 
and  in  Buchan's  Ballads  of  the  North  of  Scotland,  ii. 
57,  Lord  Lundy. 


SWEET  WILLIAM'S  gane  over  seas, 

Some  unco  lair  to  learn, 
And  our  gude  Bailie's  ae  dochter 

Is  awa  to  learn  the  same. 

In  ae  braid  buik  they  learned  baith, 

In  ae  braid  bed  they  lay ; 
But  when  her  father  cam  to  know, 

He  gart  her  come  away. 

"  It's  you  must  marry  that  Southland  lord, 

His  lady  for  to  be  ; 
It's  ye  maun  marry  that  Southland  lord, 

Or  nocht  ye'll  get  frae  me." 


262  SWEET    WILLIAM. 

"  I  must  marry  that  Southland  lord, 

Father,  an  it  be  your  will ; 
But  I'd  rather  it  were  my  burial  day, 

My  grave  for  to  fill." 

She  walked  up,  she  walked  down, 
Had  nane  to  mak  her  moan, 

Nothing  but  the  pretty  bird 
Sat  on  the  causey  stone. 

"  If  thou  could  speak,  wee  bird,"  she  says, 

"  As  weel  as  thou  can  flee, 
I  would  write  a  lang  letter 

To  Will  ayont  the  sea." 

"  What  thou  wants  wi'  Will,"  it  says, 
"  Thou'll  seal  it  wi'  thy  ring ; 

Tak  a  thread  o'  silk,  and  anither  o'  twine, 
And  about  my  neck  it  hing." 

What  she  wanted  wi'  Willie 

She  sealed  it  wi'  a  ring ; 
Took  a  thread  o'  silk,  anither  of  twine, 

About  its  neck  did  hing. 

This  bird  flew  high,  this  bird  flew  low, 

This  bird  flew  owre  the  sea, 
Until  it  entered  the  same  chamber 

Wherein  was  sweet  Willie. 

This  bird  flew  high,  this  bird  flew  low, — 
Poor  bird,  it  was  mista'en, — 

It  loot  the  letter  fa'  on  Baldie's  breast, 
Instead  of  sweet  William. 


SWEET    WILLIAM.  263 

"  Here's  a  letter,  William,"  he  says, 

"  I'm  sure  it's  not  to  me  ; 
And  gin  the  morn  gin  twelve  o'clock 

Your  love  shall  married  be." 

"  Come  saddle  to  me  my  horse,"  he  said,  4,3 

"  The  brown  and  a'  that's  speedie, 
And  I'll  awa'  to  Old  England, 

To  bring  hame  my  ladie." 

Awa  he  gade,  awa  he  rade, 

Awa  wi'  meikle  speed  ;  50 

He  lichtit  at  every  twa  miles'  end, 

Lichtit  and  changed  his  steed. 

When  she  entered  the  church  style, 

The  tear  was  in  her  e'e ; 
But  when  she  entered  the  church  door,  55 

A  blythe  sight  did  she  see. 

"  O  hold  your  hand,  you  minister, 

Hold  it  a  little  wee, 
Till  I  speak  wi'  the  bonnie  bride, 

For  she's  a  friend  to  me.  eo 

"  Stand  off,  stand  off,  you  braw  bridegroom, 

Stand  off  a  little  wee  ; 
Stand  off,  stand  off,  you  braw  bridegroom, 

For  the  bride  shall  join  wi'  me." 

Up  and  spak  the  bride's  father,  66 

And  an  angry  man  was  he, — 
"  If  I  had  pistol,  powther  and  lead, 

And  all  at  my  command, 


264  SWEET    WILLIAM. 

If  s  I  would  shoot  thee  stiff  and  dead, 
In  the  place  where  thou  dost  stand." 

Up  and  spoke  then  sweet  William, 
And  a  blithe  blink  from  his  e'e  : 

"  If  ye  ne'er  be  shot  till  I  shoot  you, 
Ye'se  ne'er  be  shot  for  me. 

"  Come  out,  come  out,  my  foremost  man, 

And  lift  my  lady  on  ; 
Commend  me  all  to  my  goodmother, 

At  night  when  you  gang  home." 


YOUNG  CHILD  DYKING.     See  p.  29. 

Translated  from  the  Kjaempeviser,  in  Illustrations  of  Northern 
Antiquities,  p.  335. 

IT  was  the  young  Child  Dyring, 

Wi*  his  mither  rede  did  he  : 
"  I  will  me  out  ride 

Sir  Magnus's  bride  to  see." 
His  leave  the  page  takes  to-day  from  his  master. 

"  Will  thou  thee  out  ride,  s 

Sir  Magnus's  bride  to  see  V 
Sae  beg  I  thee  by  Almighty  God 

Thou  speed  thee  home  to  me." 
His  leave,  frc. 

Syne  answer'd  young  Child  Dyre  ; 

He  rode  the  bride  to  meet ;  10 

The  silk  but  and  the  black  sendell 

Hang  down  to  his  horse  feet. 
His  leave,  fyc. 

All  rode  they  there,  the  bride-folk, 

On  row  sae  fair  to  see, 
Excepting  Sir  Svend  Dyr&,  is 

And  far  about  rode  he. 
His  leave,  fyc. 


266  YOUNG    CHILD    DYKING. 

It  was  the  young  Child  Dyre  rode 

Alone  along  the  strand  ; 
The  bridle  was  of  the  red  gold 

That  glitter'd  in  his  hand. 
His  leave,  fyc. 

'Twas  then  proud  Lady  Ellensborg, 
And  under  weed  smil'd  she  ; 

"  And  who  is  he,  that  noble  child 
That  rides  sae  bold  and  free  ?  " 
His  leave,  fyc 

Syne  up  and  spak  the  maiden  fair 

Was  next  unto  the  bride  ; 
"  It  is  the  young  Child  Dyre 

That  stately  steed  does  ride." 
His  leave,  fyc. 

"  And  is't  the  young  Child  Dyre 
That  rides  sae  bold  and  free  ? 

God  wot,  he's  dearer  that  rides  that  steed 
Nor  a'  the  lave  to  me  !  " 
His  leave,  fyc. 

All  rode  they  there,  the  bridal  train, 
Each  rode  his  steed  to  stall ; 

All  but  Child  Dyre,  that  look'd  whare  he 
Should  find  his  seat  in  the  hall. 
His  leave,  8fc. 

"  Sit  whare  ye  list,  my  lordings ; 

For  me,  whate'er  betide, 
Here  I  shall  sickerly  sit  the  day, 

To  hald  the  sun  frae  the  bride." 
His  leave,  fyc. 


YOUNG    CHILD    DYKING.  267 

Then  up  spak  the  bride's  father, 

And  an  angry  man  was  he  ; 
"  Whaever  sits  by  my  dochter  the  day, 

Ye  better  awa'  wad  be." 
His  leave,  &?c. 

"  It's  I  have  intill  Paris  been,  « 

And  well  my  drift  can  spell ; 
And  ay,  whatever  I  have  to  say, 

I  tell  it  best  my  sell." 
His  leave,  &fc. 

"  Sooth  thou  hast  intill  Paris  lear'd 

A  worthless  drift  to  spell,  50 

And  ay,  whatever  thou  hast  to  say, 

A  rogue's  tale  thou  must  tell." 
His  leave,  8fc. 

Ben  stept  he,  young  Child  Dyre, 

Nor  reck'd  he  wha  might  chide  ; 
And  he  has  ta'en  a  chair  in  hand,  « 

And  set  him  by  the  bride. 
His  leave,  fyc. 

'Twas  lang  i'  the  night ;  the  bride-folk 

Ilk  ane  look'd  for  his  bed  ; 
And  young  Child  Dyr£  amang  the  lave 

Speer'd  whare  he  should  be  laid.  «a 

His  leave,  fyc. 

"  Without,  afore  the  stair  steps, 

Or  laigh  on  the  cawsway  stane, 
And  there  may  lye  Sir  Dyre, 

For  ither  bed  we've  nane." 
His  leave,  &c. 


268  YOUNG    CHILD    DYKING. 

'Twas  ate  intill  the  evening; 

The  bride  to  bed  maun  ga ; 
And  out  went  he,  Child  Dyring, 

To  rouse  his  menyie  a'. 
His  leave,  Sfc. 

**  Now  busk  and  d'on  your  harnass, 
But  and  your  brynies  blae, 

And  boldly  to  the  bride-bower 
Full  merrily  we'll  gae." 
His  leave,  &fc. 

Sae  follow'd  they  to  the  bride-bower 
That  bride  sae  young  and  bright, 

And  forward  stept  Child  Dyre, 
And  quenched  the  marriage  light. 
His  leave,  $fc. 

The  cresset  they've  lit  up  again, 
But  and  the  taper  clear, 

And  followed  to  the  bride-bower 

That  bride  without  a  peer. 

His  leave,  &fc. 


And  up  Child  Dyre  snatch'd  the  bride, 

All  in  his  mantle  blae, 
And  swung  her  all  so  lightly 

Upon  his  ambler  gray. 
His  leave,  fyc. 

They  lock'd  the  bower,  they  lit  the  torch, 

'Twas  hurry-scurry  a', 
While  merrily  ay  the  lovers  gay 

Rode  roundly  to  the  shaw. 
His  leave,  fyc. 


YOUNG    CHILD    DYKING.  269 

In  Rosen-wood  they  turn'd  about 

To  pray  their  bridal  prayer ;  90 

"  Good  night  and  joy,  Sir  Magnus  ! 

For  us  ye'll  see  nae  mair." 
His  leave,  fyc. 

Sae  rode  he  to  the  green  wood, 

And  o'er  the  meadow  green, 
Till  he  came  to  his  mither's  bower,  95 

Ere  folks  to  bed  were  gane. 
His  leave,  fyc. 

Out  came  proud  Lady  Metelild, 

In  menevair  sae  free  ; 
She  welcom'd  him,  Child  Dyring, 

And  his  young  bride  him  wi'.  100 

His  leave,  fyc. 

Now  joys  attend  Child  Dyring, 

Sae  leal  but  and  sae  bold  ; 
He's  ta'en  her  to  his  ain  castell, 

His  bride-ale  there  to  hold. 
His  leave  the  page  takes  to-day  frae  his  master. 


BARBARA  LIVINGSTON.    See  p.  38. 

Motherwell's  Minstrelsy,  p.  304,  from  recitation. 

FOUR-AND-TWENTY  ladies  fair 

Were  playing  at  the  ba', 
And  out  cam  Barbara  Livingston, 

The  flower  amang  them  a'. 

Out  cam  Barbara  Livingston,  & 

The  flower  amang  them  a' ; — 
The  lusty  Laird  of  Linlyon 

Has  stoun  her  clean  awa'. 

"  The  hielands  is  no  for  me,  kind  sir, 

The  hielands  is  no  for  me ;  10 

But  if  you  would  my  favour  win, 
Ye  '11  tak  me  to  Dundee." 

"  The  hielands  '11  be  for  thee,  my  dear, 

The  hielands  will  be  for  thee ; 
To  the  lusty  Laird  o'  Linlyon  i« 

A-married  ye  shall  be." 

7.  Mr.  Jamieson  has  "  Glenlyon,"  which  is  probably  the 
right  name.    M. 


BARBARA    LIVINGSTON.  271 

When  they  cam  to  Linlyon's  yetts, 

And  lichtit  on  the  green, 
Every  ane  spak  Earse  to  her, — 

The  tears  cam  trickling  down.  20 

When  they  went  to  bed  at  nicht, 

To  Linlyon  she  did  say, 
"  Och  and  alace  !  a  weary  nicht, 

Oh  !  but  it 's  lang  till  day." 

"  Your  father's  steed  's  in  my  stable,  25 

He  's  eating  corn  and  hay, 
And  you  're  lying  in  my  twa  arms ; 

What  need  you  lang  for  day  ?  " 

"  If  I  had  paper,  pen,  and  ink, 

And  candle  for  to  see,  so 

I  would  write  a  lang  letter 

To  my  love  in  Dundee." 

They  brocht  her  paper,  pen,  and  ink, 

And  candle  for  to  see, 
And  she  did  write  a  lang  letter  35 

To  her  love  in  Dundee. 

When  he  cam  to  Linlyon's  yetts, 

And  lichtit  on  the  green ; 
But  lang  or  he  wan  up  the  stair 

His  love  was  dead  and  gane.  40 

Woe  be  to  thee,  Linlyon, 

An  ill  death  may  thou  die  ! 
Thou  might  hae  ta'en  anither  woman, 

And  let  my  lady  be. 


LANG  JOHNNY  MOIR.     See  p.  50. 
From  Buchan's  Ballads  of  the  North  of  Scotland,  i.  248. 

THERE  lives  a  man  in  Rynie's  land, 

Anither  in  Auchindore  ; 
The  bravest  lad  amo'  them  a', 

Was  lang  Johnny  Moir. 

Young  Johnny  was  an  airy  blade, 

Fu'  sturdy,  stout,  and  strang  ; 
The  sword  that  hang  by  Johnny's  side, 

Was  just  full  ten  feet  lang. 

Young  Johnny  was  a  clever  youth, 

Fu'  sturdy,  stout,  and  wight ; 
Just  full  three  yards  around  the  waist, 

And  fourteen  feet  in  hight. 

But  if  a'  be  true  they  tell  me  now, 

And  a'  be  true  I  hear, 
Young  Johnny's  on  to  Lundan  gane, 

The  king's  banner  to  bear. 

He  hadna  been  in  fair  Lundan 

But  twalmonths  twa  or  three, 
Till  the  fairest  lady  in  a'  Lundan 

Fell  in  love  wi'  young  Johnny. 


LANG   JOHNNY   MOIR.  273 

This  news  did  sound  thro'  Lundan  town, 

Till  it  came  to  the  king, 
That  the  muckle  Scot  had  fa'in  in  love 

Wi'  his  daughter,  Lady  Jean. 

When  the  king  got  word  o'  that,  as 

A  solemn  oath  sware  he ; 
"  This  weighty  Scott  sail  strait  a  rope, 

And  hanged  he  shall  be." 

When  Johnny  heard  the  sentence  past, 

A  light  laugh  then  gae  he ;  w 

"  While  I  hae  strength  to  yield  my  blade, 
Ye  darena  a'  hang  me." 

The  English  dogs  were  cunning  rogues ; 

About  him  they  did  creep, 
And  ga'e  him  draps  o'  lodomy  85 

That  laid  him  fast  asleep. 

Whan  Johnny  waken'd  frae  his  sleep, 

A  sorry  heart  had  he  ; 
His  jaws  and  hands  in  iron  bands, 

His  feet  in  fetters  three.  40 

"  O  whar  will  I  get  a  little  wee  boy 

Will  work  for  meat  and  fee, 
That  will  rin  on  to  my  uncle, 

At  the  foot  of  Benachie  ?  " 

"  Here  am  I,  a  little  wee  boy,  & 

Will  work  for  meat  and  fee, 
That  will  rin  on  to  your  uncle, 

At  the  foot  of  Benachie." 
VOL.  IV.  18 


274  LANG   JOHNNY   MOIR. 

"  Whan  ye  come  whar  grass  grows  green, 

Slack  your  shoes  and  rin  ;  » 

And  whan  ye  come  whar  water's  strong, 
Ye'll  bend  your  bow  and  swim. 

"And  whan  ye  come  to  Benachie, 

Ye'll  neither  chap  nor  ca' ; 
Sae  well's  ye'll  ken  auld  Johnny  there,  » 

Three  feet  abeen  them  a'. 

"  Ye'll  gie  to  him  this  braid  letter, 

Seal'd  wi'  my  faith  and  troth ; 
And  ye'll  bid  him  bring  alang  wi'  him 

The  body,  Jock  o'  Noth."  eo 

"  Whan  he  came  whar  grass  grew  green, 

He  slack't  his  shoes  and  ran  ; 
And  whan  he  came  whar  water's  strong, 

He  bent  his  bow  and  swam. 

And  whan  he  came  to  Benachie,  ss 

Did  neither  chap  nor  ca' ; 
Sae  well's  he  kent  auld  Johnny  there, 

Three  feet  abeen  them  a'. 

"  What  news,  what  news,  my  little  wee  boy  ? 

Ye  never  were  here  before ; "  70 

"  Nae  news,  nae  news,  but  a  letter  from 

Your  nephew,  Johnny  Moir. 

"  Ye'll  take  here  this  braid  letter, 

Seal'd  wi'  his  faith  and  troth ; 
And  ye're  bidden  bring  alang  wi'  you  75 

The  body,  Jock  o'  Noth." 


LANG   JOHNNY    MOIR.  275 

Benachie  lyes  very  low, 

The  tap  o'  Noth  lyes  high  ; 
For  a'  the  distance  that's  between, 

He  heard  auld  Johnny  cry.  eo 

Whan  on  the  plain  these  champions  met, 

Twa  grizly  ghosts  to  see, 
There  were  three  feet  between  her  brows, 

And  shoulders  were  yards  three. 

These  men  they  ran  ower  hills  and  dales,  96 

And  ower  mountains  high ; 
Till  they  came  on  to  Lundan  town, 

At  the  dawn  o'  the  third  day. 

And  whan  they  came  to  Lundan  town, 

The  yetts  were  lockit  wi'  bands  ;  90 

And  wha  were  there  but  a  trumpeter, 
Wi'  trumpet  in  his  hands. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  ye  keepers  all, 

Or  what's  the  matter  within, 
That  the  drums  do  beat,  and  bells  do  ring,  93 

And  make  sic  dolefu'  din  ?  " 

"  There's  naething  the  matter,"  the  keeper  said, 
"  There's  naething  the  matter  to  thee ; 

But  a  weighty  Scot  to  strait  the  rope, 

And  the  morn  he  maun  die."  100 

"  O  open  the  yetts,  ye  proud  keepers, 

Ye'll  open  without  delay  ;  " 
The  trembling  keeper  smiling  said, 

"  O  I  hae  not  the  key." 


276  LANG   JOHNNY   MOIR. 

"  Ye'll  open  the  yetts,  ye  proud  keepers,  ics 

Ye'll  open  without  delay ; 
Or  here  is  a  body  at  my  back 

Frae  Scotland  hae  brought  the  key." 

"  Ye'll  open  the  yetts,"  says  Jock  o'  Noth, 

"  Ye'll  open  them  at  my  call ; "  no 

Then  wi'  his  foot  he  has  drove  in 
Three  yards  braid  o'  the  wall. 

As  they  gaed  in  by  Drury-lane, 

And  down  by  the  town's  hall ; 
And  there  they  saw  young  Johnny  Moir,  115 

Stand  on  their  English  wall. 

"  Ye're  welcome  here,  my  uncle  dear, 

Ye're  welcome  unto  me  ; 
Ye'll  loose  the  knot,  and  slack  the  rope, 

And  set  me  frae  the  tree."  iao 

"  Is  it  for  murder,  or  for  theft  ? 

Or  is  it  for  robberie  ? 
If  it  is  for  ony  heinous  crime, 

There's  nae  reineid  for  thee." 

"  It's  nae  for  murder,  nor  for  theft,  125 

Nor  yet  for  robberie ; 
A'  is  for  the  loving  a  gay  lady, 

They're  gaun  to  gar  me  die." 

"  O  whar's  thy  sword,"  says  Jock  o'  Noth, 

"  Ye  brought  frae  Scotland  wi'  thee  ?  130 

I  never  saw  a  Scotsman  yet, 

But  coud  wield  a  sword  or  tree." 


LANG   JOHNNY   MOIK.  277 

"A  pox  upo'  their  lodomy 

On  me  had  sic  a  sway ; 
Four  o'  their  men,  the  bravest  four,  ias 

They  bore  my  blade  away." 

"  Bring  back  his  blade,"  says  Jock  o'  Noth, 

"And  freely  to  him  it  gie  ; 
Or  I  hae  sworn  a  black  Scot's  oath, 

I'll  gar  five  million  die."  140 


"  Now  whar's  the  lady  ?  "  says  Jock  o' 
"  Sae  fain  I  would  her  see  ;  " 

"  She's  lock'd  up  in  her  ain  chamber, 
The  king  he  keeps  the  key." 

"  So  they  hae  gane  before  the  king, 
With  courage  bauld  and  free  ; 

Their  armour  bright  cast  sic  a  light, 
That  almost  dim'd  his  e'e. 


"  O  whar's  the  lady,"  says  Jock  o'  Noth, 

"  Sae  fain  as  I  wou'd  her  see  ;  wo 

For  we  are  come  to  her  wedding, 
Frae  the  foot  o'  Benachie." 

"  O  take  the  lady,"  said  the  king, 

"  Ye  welcome  are  for  me  ; 
I  never  thought  to  see  sic  men  155 

Frae  the  foot  o'  Benachie." 

"  If  I  had  ken'd,"  said  Jock  o'  Noth, 

"  Ye'd  wonder'd  sae  muckle  at  me, 
I  wou'd  hae  brought  ane  larger  far 

By  sizes  three  times  three."  HJO 


278  LANG    JOHNNY    MOIR. 

"  Likewise  if  I  had  thought  I'd  been 

Sic  a  great  fright  to  thee, 
I'd  brought  Sir  John  o'  Erskine  park ; 

He's  thretty  feet  and  three." 

"  Wae  to  the  little  boy,"  said  the  King,  iss 

"  Brought  tidings  unto  thee ; 
Let  all  England  say  what  they  will, 

High  hanged  shall  he  be." 

"  O  if  ye  hang  the  little  wee  boy 

Brought  tidings  unto  me,  iro 

We  shall  attend  his  burial, 

And  rewarded  ye  shall  be." 

"  O  take  the  lady,"  said  the  king, 

"And  the  boy  shall  be  free  : " 
"A  priest,  a  priest,"  then  Johnny  cried,  m 

"  To  join  my  love  and  me." 

"A  clerk,  a  clerk,"  the  king  replied, 

"  To  seal  her  tocher  wi'  thee  " 
Out  it  speaks  auld  Johnny  then, 

These  words  pronounced  he :  iso 

"  I  wantnae  lands  and  rents  at  hame, 

I'll  ask  nae  gowd  frae  thee  ; 
I  am  possess'd  o'  riches  great, 

Hae  fifty  ploughs  and  three ; 
Likewise  fa's  heir  to  ane  estate  135 

At  the  foot  o'  Benachie. 

"  Hae  ye  ony  masons  in  this  place, 
Or  ony  at  your  call, 


LANG   JOHNNY    MOIR.  279 

That  ye  may  now  send  some  of  them, 

To  build  your  broken  wall  ?  "  190 

"  Yes,  there  are  masons  in  this  place, 

And  plenty  at  my  call ; 
But  ye  may  gang  frae  whence  ye  came, 

Never  mind  my  broken  wall." 

They've  ta'en  the  lady  by  the  hand,  195 

And  set  her  prison  free  ; 
Wi'  drums  beating,  and  fifes  playing, 

They  spent  the  night  wi'  glee. 

Now  auld  Johnny  Moir,  and  young  Johnny  Moir, 
And  Jock  o'  Noth,  a'  three,  200 

The  English  lady,  and  little  wee  boy, 
Went  a'  to  Benachie. 


LIZIE  BAILLIE.     See  p.  73. 

From  Buchan's  Ballads  of  tiie  North  of  Scotland,  ii.  173. 

IT  fell  about  the  Lammas  time, 

When  flowers  were  fresh  and  green, 

LIzie  Baillie  to  Gartartan  went, 
To  see  her  sister  Jean. 

She  meant  to  go  unto  that  place, 

To  stay  a  little  while ; 
But  mark  what  fortune  her  befell, 

When  she  went  to  the  isle. 

It  fell  out  upon  a  day, 

Sheep-shearing  at  an  end, 
Lizie  Baillie  she  walk'd  out, 

To  see  a  distant  friend. 

But  going  down  in  a  low  glen, 

She  met  wi'  Duncan  Graeme, 
Who  courted  her  along  the  way, 

Likewise  convoyed  her  hame. 

"  My  bonny  Lizie  Baillie, 

I'll  row  you  in  my  plaidie, 
If  ye'll  gang  ower  the  hills  wi'  me, 

And  be  a  Highland  ladie." 

8.  The  island  of  Inchmahome,  in  the  Lake  of  Menteith. 


LIZIE    BAILLIE.  281 


"  I  winna  gang  alang  wi'  you ; 

Indeed  I  maun  confess, 
I  can  neither  milk  cow  nor  ewe, 

Nor  yet  can  I  speak  Earse." 

"  O  never  fear,  Lizie,"  he  said, 

"  If  ye  will  gang  wi'  me, 
All  that  is  into  my  place, 

Can  speak  as  gude  Scotch  as  thee. 

"  But  for  a  time  we  now  maun  part ; 

I  hinna  time  to  tarry  ; 
Next  when  we  twa  meet  again, 

Will  be  in  Castlecarry." 

When  Lizie  tarried  out  her  time, 

Unto  her  father's  came, 
The  very  first  night  she  arrived, 

Wha  comes  but  Duncan  Graeme. 

Says,  "  Bonny  Lizie  Baillie, 
A  gude  deed  mat  ye  die  ; 

Altho'  to  me  ye  brake  your  tryst, 
Now  I  am  come  for  thee." 

"  O  stay  at  hame,"  her  father  said, 
"  Your  mither  cannot  want  thee ; 

And  gin  ye  gang  awa'  this  night, 
We'll  hae  a  Killycrankie." 

"  My  bonny  Lizie  Baillie, 
O  come  to  me  without  delay  ; 

O  wou'd  ye  hae  sae  little  wit, 
As  mind  what  odd  folks  wad  say  ? 


282  LIZIE    BAILLIE. 

She  wou'dna  hae  the  Lowlandman, 
That  wears  the  coat  sae  blue ; 

But  she  wou'd  hae  the  Highlandman, 
That  wears  the  plaid  and  trews. 

Out  it  spake  her  mother  then, 

A  sorry  heart  had  she  ; 
Says,  "  Wae  be  to  his  Highland  face, 

That's  taen  my  lass  frae  me ! " 


THE  RARE  BALLAD  OF  JOHNNIE  FAA  AND 
THE  COUNTESS  O'  CASSILIS.    See  p.  114. 

FROM  Sheldon's  Minstrelsy  of  the  English  Border, 
p.  329.  The  editor  (or  author,  as  he  styles  himself, 
indifferently)  of  that  audacious  work,  asserts  that  he 
has  "  heard  this  ballad  sung  repeatedly  by  Willie  Faa," 
and  has  "  endeavored  to  preserve  as  much  of  his  ver 
sion  as  recollection  would  allow." 

THERE  were  seven  Gipsie.s  in  a  gang, 
They  were  both  brisk  and  bonny  O, 

They  rode  till  they  came  to  the  Earl  of  Castle's 

house, 
And  there  they  sung  so  sweetly  O. 

The  Earl  of  Castle's  lady  came  down,  5 

With  her  waiting  maid  beside  her  O  ; 

As  soon  as  her  handsome  face  they  saw, 
They  cast  the  glamour  o'er  her  O. 

They  gave  to  her  a  nutmeg  brown, 

Which  was  of  the  belinger  O  ;  10 

She  gave  to  them  a  far  better  thing, 

The  ring  from  off  her  finger  O. 

The  Earl  he  flang  his  purse  to  them, 
For  wow  !  but  they  sung  bonny  O  ; 


284  JOHNNIE    FAA. 

Gied  them  red  wine  and  manchet  cake,  15 

And  all  for  the  Gipsy  laddie  O. 

The  Earl  wad  gae  hunt  in  Maybole  woods, 
For  blythsome  was  the  morning  O, 

To  hunt  the  deer  wi'  the  yelping  curs, 

Wi'  the  huntsman  bugle  sounding  O.  20 

The  Countess  went  doun  to  the  ha', 

To  hae  a  crack  at  them  fairly  O  ; 
"  And  och,"  she  cried,  "  I  wad  follow  thee, 

To  the  end  o'  the  world  or  nearly  O." 

He  kist  the  Countess  lips  sae  red,  25 

And  her  jimp  white  waist  he  cuddled  O  ; 

She  smoothed  his  beard  wi'  her  luvely  hand, 
And  a'  for  her  Gipsy  laddie  O. 

"  And  och/'  she  cried,  "  that  I  should  love  thee, 
And  ever  wrong  my  Earlie  O  ;  so 

I  ken  there's  glamour  in  mine  e'ee, 
To  follow  a  Gipsy  laddie  O." 

Quo  he,  "  Thou  art  ane  Earl's  ladye, 

And  that  is  kent  fu'  fairly  O  ; 
But  if  thou  comest  awa  wi'  me,  35 

Thou'lt  be  a  queen  so  rarely  O. 

"  I'm  Johnny  Faa  o'  Yetholm  town, 
There  dwall  my  min  and  daddie  O  ; 

v.  37.  "  Yetholm,  on  the  borders  of  Northumberland,  sit 
uated  among  the  recesses  of  the  Cheviots,  has  ever  been  the 
headquarters  of  the  Gipsy  tribes.  The  Faas,  (a  corruption 
of  Fall,  their  original  designation.)  the  Youngs,  Armstrongs, 
and  Gordons  still  look  up  to  this  straggling  village  as  their 
city  of  refuge."  SHELDON. 


JOHNNIE    FAA.  285 

And  sweet  Countess,  I'm  nothing  less 

Than  King  o'  the  Gipsy  laddies  O."  40 

She  pull'd  off  her  high  heel'd  shoes, — 
They  were  made  of  Spanish  leather  O, — 

She  put  on  her  Highland  brogues, 
To  follow  the  Gipsy  laddie  O. 

At  night,  when  my  lord  came  riding  home,         45 

Enquiring  for  his  lady  O, 
The  waiting  maid  made  this  reply — 

"  She's  following  the  Gipsy  laddie  O." 

"  O  now  then,"  quo'  the  bonny  Earl, 

"  That  ever  siccan  a  thing  suld  be  ;  so 

All  ye  that  love,  oh  never  build 
Your  nest  upon  the  topmost  tree. 

"  For  oh  the  green  leaves  they  will  fall, 

And  roots  and  branches  wither  O ; 
But  the  virtue  o'  a  leal  woman,  55 

I  trow  wad  never  swither  O. 

"  Go  saddle  me  my  mylk  white  steed, 

Go  saddle  it  so  sadly  O, 
And  I  will  ride  out  oure  the  lea, 

To  follow  her  Gipsy  laddie  O.  eo 

"  Go  saddle  me  my  bonny  black, 
And  eke  my  gray  cowt  quickly  O ; 

Gin  I  hae  not  Johnny  Faa  his  head, 
The  de'il  may  claw  me  tightly  O. 

"  Have  you  been  east,  or  have  you  been  west,    65 
Or  have  you  been  brisk  and  bonny  O, 


286  JOHNNIE    FAA. 

Or  have  you  seen  a  gay  lady 
Following  a  Gipsy  laddie  O  ?  " 

He  rode  all  the  summer's  night, 
And  part  of  the  next  morning  O  ; 

At  length  he  espied  his  own  wedded  wife, 
She  was  cold,  wet,  and  weary  O. 

The  leddy  sabbed,  the  leddy  cried, 
And  wrung  her  hands  sae  sadly  O ; 

And  aye  her  moan  was  to  the  Earl, 
To  spare  her  Gipsy  laddie  O. 

"  Why  did  you  leave  your  houses  and  lands, 
Or  why  did  you  leave  your  money  O, 

Or  why  did  you  leave  your  own  wedded  lord, 
To  follow  the  Gipsy  laddie  O  ?  " 

"  O  what  care  I  for  houses  and  lands, 

Or  what  care  I  for  money  O  ? 
So  as  I  have  brew'd,  so  I  will  drink, 

So  fare  you  well,  my  honey  O." 

They  marched  them  to  the  gallows  tree, 
Whilst  the  Earl  stood  at  the  window  O ; 

And  aye  the  smile  was  on  his  lip, 
As  he  thocht  on  the  Gipsy  laddie  O. 

There  were  seven  Gipsies  in  a  gang, 
They  were  so  brisk  and  bonny  O, 

And  they're  to  be  hang'd  all  in  a  row, 
For  the  Earl  o'  Castle's  leddy  O. 


JAMIE  DOUGLAS.     See  p.  135. 
From  Finlay's  Scottish  Ballads,  ii.  4. 

WHEN  I  fell  sick,  an'  very  sick, 
An'  very  sick,  just  like  to  die, 

A  gentleman  of  good  account 
He  cam  on  purpose  to  visit  me  ; 

But  his  blackie  whispered  in  my  lord's  ear, 
He  was  owre  lang  in  the  room  wi'  me. 

"  Gae  little  page,  an'  tell  your  lord, 
Gin  he  will  come  and  dine  wi'  me, 

I'll  set  him  on  a  chair  of  gold, 

And  serve  him  on  my  bended  knee." 

The  little  page  gaed  up  the  stair, — 
"  Lord  Douglass,  dine  wi'  your  ladie  : 

She'll  set  ye  on  a  chair  of  gold, 
And  serve  you  on  her  bended  knee." 

"  When  cockle  shells  turn  silver  bells, 
When  wine  drieps  red  frae  ilka  tree, 

When  frost  and  snaw  will  warm  us  a', 
Then  I'll  cum  down  an'  dine  wi'  thee." 

But  whan  my  father  gat  word  o'  this, 
O  what  an  angry  man  was  he  ! 

He  sent  fourscore  o'  his  archers  bauld 
To  bring  me  safe  to  his  countrie. 


288  JAMIE    DOUGLAS. 

When  I  rose  up  then  in  the  morn, 

My  goodly  palace  for  to  lea', 
I  knocked  at  my  lord's  chamber  door, 

But  ne'er  a  word  wad  he  speak  to  me. 

But  slowly,  slowly,  rose  he  up, 
And  slowly,  slowly,  cam  he  down, 

And  when  he  saw  me  set  on  my  horse, 
He  caused  his  drums  and  trumpets  soun. 

"  Now  fare  ye  weel  my  goodly  palace, 
And  fare  ye  weel,  my  children  three  ; 

God  grant  your  father  grace  to  love  you, 
Far  more  than  ever  he  loved  me." 

He  thocht  that  I  was  like  himsel, 
That  had  a  woman  in  every  hall ; 

But  I  could  swear  by  the  heavens  clear, 
I  never  loved  man  but  himsel. 

As  on  to  Embro'  town  we  cam, 
My  guid  father  he  welcomed  me ; 

He  caused  his  minstrels  meet  to  sound, — 
It  was  nae  music  at  a'  to  me. 

"  Now  haud  your  tongue,  my  daughter  dear, 
Leave  off  your  weeping,  let  it  be ; 

For  Jamie's  divorcement  I'll  send  over ; 
Far  better  lord  I'll  provide  for  thee." 

"  O  haud  your  tongue,  my  father  dear, 
And  of  such  talking  let  me  be ; 

For  never  a  man  shall  come  to  my  arms, 
Since  my  lord  has  sae  slighted  me." 


JAMIE    DOUGLAS.  289 

0  an'  I  had  ne'er  crossed  the  Tweed, 
Nor  yet  been  owre  the  river  Dee, 

1  might  hae  staid  at  Lord  Orgul's  gate, 

Where  I  wad  hae  been  a  gay  ladie. 

The  ladies  they  will  cum  to  town,  » 

And  they  will  cum  and  visit  me ; 
But  I'll  set  me  down  now  in  the  dark, 

For  ochanie  !  who'll  comfort  me  ? 

An*  wae  betide  ye,  black    fastness, 

Ay,  and  an  ill  deid  may  ye  die  !  no 

Ye  was  the  first  and  foremost  man 

Wha  parted  my  true  lord  and  me. 

59:  fastness,  printed  Fastness  by  Finlay,  is,  says  Mother- 
well,  merely  falsetness,  falseness. 
VOL.    IV.  19 


LAIRD  OF  BLACKWOOD.    See  p.  135. 

Kinloch's  Ancient  Scottish  Ballads,  p.  60. 


"  I  LAY  sick,  and  very  sick, 

And  I  was  bad,  and  like  to  die, 
A  friend  o'  mine  cam  to  visit  me ; — 

And  Blackwood  whisper'd  in  my  lord's  ear, 
That  he  was  owre  laug  in  chamber  wi'  me.  s 

"  O  what  need  I  dress  up  my  head, 
Nor  what  need  I  kaim  doun  my  hair, 

Whan  my  gude  lord  has  forsaken  me, 
And  says  he  will  na  love  me  mair  ! 

"  But  O  !  an  my  young  babe  was  born,  10 

And  set  upon  some  nourice  knee, 
And  I  mysel  war  dead  and  gane, — 

For  a  maid  again  I'll  never  be." — 

"  Na  mair  o'  this,  my  dochter  dear, 

And  of  your  mourning  let  abee  ;  15 

For  a  bill  of  divorce  I'll  gar  write  for  him, 

A  mair  better  lord  I'll  get  for  thee." 


LAIRD    OF   BLAOKWOOD.  291 

"  Na  mair  o'  this,  my  father  dear, 

And  of  your  folly  let  abee  ; 
For  I  wad  na  gie  ae  look  o'  my  lord's  face,          20 

For  a'  the  lords  in  the  haill  countrie. 

"  But  I'll  cast  off  my  robes  o'  red. 

And  I'll  put  on  my  robes  o'  blue  ; 
And  I  will  travel  to  some  other  land, 

To  see  gin  my  love  will  on  me  rue.  25 

"  There  sail  na  wash  come  on  my  face, 
There  sail  na  kaim  come  on  my  hair ; 

There  sail  neither  coal  nor  candle  licht 
Be  seen  intil  my  bouer  na  mair. 

"  O  !  wae  be  to  thee  Blackwood,  at 

And  an  ill  death  may  ye  die, 
For  ye've  been  the  haill  occasion 

Of  parting  my  lord  and  me." 


THE  PROVOST'S  DOCHTER.     See  p.  180. 
Kinloch's  Ancient  Scottish  Ballads,  p.  181. 


THE  Provost's  dochter  went  out  a  walking, 

A  may's  love  whiles  is  easie  won  ; 
She  heard  a  puir  prisoner  making  his  meane, 

And  she  was  the  fair  flow'r  o'  Northumberland. 

"  Gif  onie  ladie  wad  borrow  me 

Out  into  this  prison  strang, 
I  wad  make  her  a  ladie  o'  hie  degree, 

For  I  am  a  gret  lard  in  fair  Scotland." 

She  has  dune  her  to  her  father's  bed-stock, 

A  may's  love  whiles  is  easie  won  ! 
She  has  stown  the  keys  o'  monie  braw  lock, 

And  she  has  lows'd  him  out  o'  prison  strang. 

She  has  dune  her  to  her  father's  stable, 

A  may's  love  whiles  is  easie  won  I 
She  has  tane  out  a  steed,  baith  swift  and  able, 

To  carry  them  baith  to  fair  Scotland. 


THE  PROVOST'S  DOCHTER.     293 

Whan  they  cam  to  the  Scottish  corss, 

A  may's  love  whiles  is  easie  won  ! 
"  Ye  brazen-faced  hure,  licht  aff  o'  my  horse, 

And  go,  get  ye  back  to  Northumberland."  20 

Whan  they  cam  to  the  Scottish  muir, 

A  may's  love  whiles  is  easie  won  ! 
"  Get  aff  o'  my  horse,  ye  brazen-fac'd  hure, 

So,  go,  get  ye  back  to  Northumberland." 

"  O  pity  on  me !     O  pity !  "  said  she,  25 

"  O  that  my  love  was  so  easie  won  ! 
Have  pity  on  me,  as  I  had  upon  thee, 

Whan  I  lows'd  ye  out  o'  prison  strang." 

"  O  how  can  I  hae  pity  on  thee  ? 

O  why  was  your  love  sae  easie  won  ?  so 

Whan  I  hae  a  wife  and  children  three, 

Mair  worthy  than  a'  in  Northumberland." 

"  Cook  in  your  kitchen  I  will  be, — 

O  that  my  love  was  sae  easie  won  ! 
And  serve  your  lady  maist  reverentlie,  ss 

For  I  darna  gang  back  to  Northumberland." 

"  Cook  in  my  kitchen,  ye  sail  not  be, — 

Why  was  your  love  so  easie  won  ? 
For  I  will  hae  na  sic  servants  as  thee, 

So,  get  ye  back  to  Northumberland."  « 

But  laith  was  he  the  lassie  to  tyne, 

A  may's  love  whiles  is  easie  won  ! 
He  hired  an  auld  horse,  and  fee'd  an  auld  man, 

To  carry  her  back  to  Northumberland. 


294     THE  PROVOST'S  DOCHTEK. 

Whan  she  cam  her  father  afore,  « 

A  may's  love  whiles  is  easie  won  ! 
She  fell  at  his  feet  on  her  kne^s  sae  low, — 

She  was  the  fair  flow'r  o'  Northumberland. 

"  O  dochter,  dochter,  why  was  ye  bauld, 

O  why  was  your  love  sae  easie  won  !  so 

To  be  a  Scot's  hure  in  your  fifteen  year  auld, 
And  ye  the  fair  flow'r  o'  Northumberland ! " 

Her  mother  on  her  sae  gentlie  smil'd, — 
"  O  that  her  love  was  sae  easie  won  ! 

She's  na  the  first  that  the  Scots  hae  beguil'd,          55 
And  she's  still  the  fair  flow'r  o'  Northumberland. 

"  She  shanna  want  gowd,  she  shanna  want  fee, 

Although  her  love  was  easie  won  ; 
She  shanna  want  gowd  to  gain  a  man  wi', 

And  she'll  still  be  the  fair  flow'r  o'  Northumber 
land."  60 


BLANCHEFLOUR  AND  JELLYFLORICE. 

From  Buchan's  Ballads  of  the  North  of  Scotland,  i.  125. 

A  fragment  of  the  ancient  English  romance  of 
Florice  and  Blancheflour  is  printed  in  Hartshorne's 
Metrical  Tales,  p.  81.  For  the  complete  story  (hardly 
a  trace  of  which  is  retained  in  the  following  ballad) 
see  Ellis's  Early  English  Metrical  Romances. 


THERE  was  a  maid,  richly  array'd, 
In  robes  were  rare  to  see  ; 

For  seven  years  and  something  mair, 
She  serv'd  a  gay  ladie. 

But  being  fond  o'  a  higher  place, 
In  service  she  thought  lang ; 

She  took  her  mantle  her  about, 
Her  coffer  by  the  band. 

And  as  she  walk'd  by  the  shore  side, 
As  blythe's  a  bird  on  tree, 

Yet  still  she  gaz'd  her  round  about, 
To  see  what  she  could  see. 


296   BLANCHEFLOUR  AND  JELLYFLOIUCE. 

At  last  she  spied  a  little  castle, 

That  stood  near  by  the  sea ; 
She  spied  it  far,  and  drew  it  near, 

To  that  castle  went  she. 

And  when  she  came  to  that  castle, 

She  tirled  at  the  pin  ; 
And  ready  stood  a  little  wee  boy 

To  lat  this  fair  maid  in. 

"  O  who's  the  owner  of  this  place, 

O  porter  boy,  tell  me  '?  " 
"  This  place  belongs  unto  a  queen 

O'  birth  and  high  degree." 

She  put  her  hand  in  her  pocket, 

And  ga'e  him  shillings  three ; 
**  O  porter  bear  my  message  well, 

Unto  the  queen  frae  me." 

The  porter's  gane  before  the  queen, 

Fell  low  down  on  his  knee  ; 
"  Win  up,  win  up,  my  porter  boy, 

What  makes  this  courtesie  ?  " 

"  I  ha'e  been  porter  at  your  yetts, 
My  dame,  these  years  full  three, 

But  see  a  ladie  at  your  yetts, 
The  fairest  my  eyes  did  see." 

"  Cast  up  my  yetts  baith  wide  and  braid, 

Lat  her  come  in  to  me ; 
And  I'll  know  by  her  courtesie, 

Lord's  daughter  if  she  be." 


BLANCHEFLOUR    AND    JELLYFLORICE.     297 

When  she  came  in  before  the  queen, 

Fell  low  down  on  her  knee  ; 
"  Service  frae  you,  my  dame,  the  queen, 

I  pray  you  grant  it  me." 

"  If  that  service  ye  now  do  want,  « 

What  station  will  ye  be  ? 
Can  ye  card  wool,  or  spin,  fair  maid, 

Or  milk  the  cows  to  me  ?  "  .    % 

"  No,  I  can  neither  card  nor  spin, 

Nor  cows  I  canno'  milk;  s> 

But  sit  into  a  lady's  bower, 

And  sew  the  seams  o'  silk." 

"  What  is  your  name,  ye  comely  dame  ? 

Pray  tell  this  unto  me  : 
"  O  Blancheflour,  that  is  my  name,  « 

Born  in  a  strange  countrie." 

"  O  keep  ye  well  frae  Jellyflorice  ; 

My  ain  dear  son  is  he  ; 
When  other  ladies  get  a  gift, 

O'  that  ye  shall  get  three."  eo 

It  wasna  tald  into  the  bower, 

Till  it  went  thro'  the  ha', 
That  Jellyflorice  and  Blancheflour 

Were  grown  ower  great  witha.' 

When  the  queen's  maids  their  visits  paid,  (e 

Upo'  the  gude  Yule  day, 
When  other  ladies  got  horse  to  ride, 

She  boud  take  foot  and  gae. 


298      BLANCHEFLOUR    AND    JELLTFLORICE. 

The  queen  she  call'd  her  stable  groom, 

To  come  to  her  right  seen ; 
Says, "  Ye'll  take  out  yon  wild  waith  steed, 

And  bring  him  to  the  green.      .. 

"  Ye'll  take  the  bridle  frae  his  head, 

The  lighters  frae  his  e'en  ; 
Ere  she  ride  three  times  roun'  the  cross, 

Her  weel  days  will  be  dune." 

Jellyflorice  his  true  love  spy'd, 

As  she  rade  roun'  the  cross ; 
And  thrice  he  kiss'd  her  lovely  lips, 

And  took  her  frae  her  horse. 

"  Gang  to  your  bower,  my  lily  flower, 

For  a'  my  mother's  spite ; 
There's  nae  other  amang  her  maids, 

In  whom  I  take  delight. 

"  Ye  are  my  jewel,  and  only  ane, 

Nane's  do  you  injury  ; 
For  ere  this-day-month  come  and  gang, 

My  wedded  wife  ye'se  be." 


CHIL  ETHER. 

From  Buchan's  Ballads  of  the  North  of  Scotland,  ii.  228. 

CHIL  ETHER  and  Lady  Maisry 

Were  baith  born  at  ae  birth  ; 
They  lov'd  each  other  tenderlie, 

Boon  every  thing  on  earth. 

"  They  ley  likes  na  the  summer  shower, 

Nor  girse  the  mornin'  dew, 
Better,  dear  Lady  Maisry, 

Than  Chil  Ether  loves  you." 

"  The  bonny  doo  likes  na  its  mate, 

Nor  babe  at  breast  its  mither, 
Better,  my  dearest  Chil  Ether, 

Than  Maisry  loves  her  brither." 

But  he  needs  gae  to  gain  renown, 

Into  some  far  countrie ; 
And  Chil  Ether  has  gaen  abroad, 

To  fight  in  Paynimie. 

And  he  has  been  in  Paynimie 

A  twalvemonth  and  a  day ; 
But  never  nae  tidings  did  there  come, 

Of  his  welfare  to  say. 


300  CHIL    ETHER. 

Then  she's  ta'en  ship,  awa*  to  sail, 
Out  ower  the  roaring  faem  ; 

A'  for  to  find  him,  Chil  Ether, 
And  for  to  bring  him  hanie. 

She  hadna  sail'd  the  sea  a  month, 
A  month  but  barely  three, 

Until  she  landit  on  Ciper's  shore, 
By  the  meen-licht  sae  lie. 

Lady  Maisry  did  on  her  green  mantle, 
Took  her  purse  in  her  hand, 

And  call'd  to  her  her  mariners, 
Syne  walk'd  up  thro'  the  land. 

She  walked  up,  sae  did  she  down, 
Till  she  came  till  castell  high ; 

There  she  sat  down  on  the  door  stane, 
And  weepit  bitterlie. 

Then  out  it  spake  a  sweet,  sweet  voice, 

Out  ower  the  castell  wa', 
"  Now  isna  that  Lady  Maisry 

That  makes  sic  a  dolefu'  fa'  ? 

"  But  gin  that  be  Lady  Maisry, 
Lat  her  make  mirth  and  glee ; 

For  I'm  her  brother,  Chil  Ether, 
That  loves  her  tenderlie. 

"  But  gin  that  be  Lady  Maisry, 
Lat  her  take  purse  in  hand  ; 

And  gang  to  yonder  castell  wa', — 
They  call  it  Gorinand. 


CHIL    ETHER.  301 


u  Spier  for  the  lord  o'  that  castell, 
Gie'm  dollars  thirty-three  ; 

Tell  him  to  ransom  Chil  Ether, 
That  loves  you  tenderlie." 

She's  done  her  up  to  that  castell, 
Paid  down  her  gude  monie ; 

And  sae  she's  ransom'd  Chil  Ether, 
And  brought  him  hame  her  wi'. 


"  A  FRAGMENT,  and  now  printed  in  the  hope  that 
the  remainder  of  it  may  hereafter  be  recovered. 
From  circumstances,  one  would  almost  be  inclined  to 
trace  it  to  a  Danish  source  ;  or  it  may  be  an  episode 
of  some  forgotten  Metrical  Romance :  but  this  cannot 
satisfactorily  be  ascertained,  from  its  catastrophe  being 
unfortunately  wanting."  MothenveWs  Minstrelsy,  p. 
345. 

The  same  is  in  Buchan's  Ballads  of  the  North  of 
Scotland,  ii.  75. 


WHEN  two  lovers  love  each  other  weel, 
Great  sin  it  were  them  to  twinn  ; 

And  this  I  speak  from  young  Bearwell ; 
He  loved  a  lady  ying, 

The  Mayor's  daughter  of  Birktoun-brae, 
That  lovely  leesome  thing. 

One  day  when  she  was  looking  out, 
When  washing  her  milk-white  hands, 

Then  she  beheld  him  young  Bearwell, 
As  he  came  in  the  sands. 

9,  That. 


YOUNG    BEARWELL.  303 

Says, — "  Wae  's  me  for  you,  young  Bearwell, 

Such  tales  of  you  are  tauld ; 
They  '11  cause  you  sail  the  salt  sea  so  far 

As  beyond  Yorkisfauld." 

"  O  shall  I  bide  in  good  green  wood,  is 

Or  stay  in  bower  with  thee  ?  " 
****** 

*  ****** 

"  The  leaves  are  thick  in  good  green  wood, 

Would  hold  you  from  the  rain  ; 
And  if  you  stay  in  bower  with  me, 

You  will  be  taken  and  slain.  ao 

"But  I  caused  build  a  ship  for  you, 

Upon  Saint  Innocent's  day ; 
I  '11  bid  Saint  Innocent  be  your  guide, 

And  Our  Lady,  that  meikle  may. 
You  are  a  lady's  first  true  love  ;  & 

God  carry  you  weel  away  ! " 

Then  he  sailed  east  and  he  sailed  west, 

By  many  a  comely  strand  ; 
At  length  a  puff  of  northern  wind 

Did  blow  him  to  the  land.  w 

When  he  did  see  the  king  and  court, 

Were  playing  at  the  ba' ; 
Gave  him  a  harp  into  his  hand, 

Says, — "  Stay,  Bearwell,  and  play." 

He  had  not  been  in  the  king's  court  ss 

A  twelvemonth  and  a  day, 
Till  there  came  lairds  and  lords  euew, 

To  court  that  lady  gay. 


304  YOUNG    BEARWELL. 

They  wooed  her  with  broach  and  ring, 
They  nothing  could  keep  back ; 

The  very  charters  of  their  lands 
Into  her  hands  they  pat. 

-  She  's  done  her  down  to  Heyvalin, 

With  the  light  of  the  mune : 
Says, — "  Will  ye  do  this  deed  for  me, 
And  will  ye  do  it  sune  ? 

"  Will  ye  go  seek  him  young  Bearwell, 

On  seas  wherever  he  be  ? 
And  if  I  live  and  bruik  my  life, 

Rewarded  ye  shall  be." 

"  Alas,  I  am  too  young  a  skipper, 

So  far  to  sail  the  faem  ; 
But  if  I  li ve  and  bruik  my  life, 

I  '11  strive  to  bring  him  name." 

So  he  has  sail'd  east  and  then  sail'd  west, 

By  many  a  comely  strand  ; 
Till  there  came  a  blast  of  northern  wind, 

And  blew  him  to  the  land. 

And  there  the  king  and  all  his  court 

Were  playing  at  the  ba' ; 
Gave  him  a  harp  into  his  hand, 

Says, — "  Stay,  Heyvalin,  and  play." 

He  has  tane  up  the  harp  in  hand, 

And  unto  play  went  he  ; 
And  young  Bearwell  was  the  first  man 

In  all  that  companie. 


LORD  THOMAS  OF  WINESBERRY  AND  THE 
KING'S  DAUGHTER. 


FROM  Buchan's  Ballads  of  the  North  of  Scotland, 
ii.  212.  Another  version  is  given  in  Buchan's  Glean 
ings,  p.  127,  and  a  third  by  Kinloch,  p.  93.  Kinloch 
considers  that  the  ballad  may  relate  to  the  secret  expe 
dition  of  James  V.  to  France,  in  1536,  in  search  of  a 
wife.  In  the  last  verse  of  his  copy  of  the  ballad, 
Lord  Thomas  turns  out  to  be  no  less  a  man  than  the 
King  of  Scotland. 

SEVEN  years  the  king  he  staid 

Into  the  land  of  Spain, 
And  seven  years  true  Thomas  was 

His  daughter's  chamberlain. 

But  it  fell  ance  upon  a  day  & 

The  king  he  did  come  home ; 
She  beked  and  she  benjed  ben, 

And  did  him  there  welcome. 

"  What  aileth  you,  my  daughter,  Janet, 

You  look  sae  pale  and  wan  ?  10 

There  is  a  dreder  in  your  heart. 

Or  else  ye  love  a  man." 
VOL.  iv.  20 


306  LORD    THOMAS    OF    WINESBERRY 

"  There  is  no  dreder  in  my  heart, 

Nor  do  I  love  a  man  ; 
But  it  is  for  your  long  by  ding 

Into  the  land  of  Spain." 

"  Ye'll  cast  aff  your  bonny  brown  gown, 

And  lay  it  on  a  stane  ; 
And  I'll  tell  you,  my  jelly  Janet, 

If  ever  ye  loved  a  man." 

She's  cast  off  her  bonny  brown  gown, 

And  laid  it  on  a  stane ; 
Her  belly  was  big,  her  twa  sides  high, 

Her  colour  it  was  quite  gane. 

"  O  is  it  to  a  man  o'  might,  Janet  ? 

Or  is  it  till  a  man  that's  mean  ? 
Or  is  it  to  one  of  my  poor  soldiers, 

That  I've  brought  hame  frae  Spain  ?  " 

"  It's  not  till  a  man  o'  might,"  she  says, 
"  Nor  yet  to  a  man  that's  mean ; 

But  it  is  to  Thomas  o'  Winesberry, 
That  cannot  langer  len'." 

"  O  where  are  all  my  wall- wight  men, 

That  I  pay  meat  and  fee  ; 
That  will  gae  for  him,  true  Thomas, 

And  bring  him  here  to  me  ? 
For  the  morn,  ere  I  eat  or  drink, 

High  hanged  shall  he  be." 

She's  turn'd  her  right  and  round  about, 
The  tear  blindet  her  e'e ; 


AND  THE    KING'S    DAUGHTER.  307 

"  If  ye  do  any  ill  to  true  Thomas, 
Ye'se  never  get  guid  o'  me." 

When  Thomas  came  before  the  king, 

He  glanced  like  the  fire ; 
His  hair  was  like  the  threads  o'  gowd,  « 

His  eyes  like  crystal  clear. 

"  It  was  nae  wonder,  my  daughter,  Janet, 

Altho'  ye  loved  this  man  ; 
If  he  were  a  woman,  as  he  is  a  man, 

My  bed-fellow  he  would  been.  «> 

"  O  will  ye  marry  my  daughter  Janet  ? 

The  truth's  in  your  right  hand  ; 
Ye'se  hae  some  o'  my  gowd,  and  some  o'  my  gear, 

And  the  twalt  part  o'  my  land." 

"  It's  I  will  marry  your  daughter  Janet ;  55 

The  truth's  in  my  right  hand  ; 
I'll  hae  nane  o'  your  gowd,  nor  nane  o'  your  gear, 

I've  enough  in  my  own  land. 

"  But  I  will  marry  your  daughter  Janet, 

With  thirty  ploughs  and  three,  « 

And  four  an'  twenty  bonny  breast-mills, 
All  on  the  water  of  Dee. 


LADY  ELSPAT. 


Jamieson's  Popular  Ballads,  ii.  191.     From  the  recitation  of 
Mrs.  Brown. 


"  How  brent's  your  brow,  my  Lady  Elspat  ? 

How  gouden  yellow  is  your  hair  ? 
O'  a*  the  maids  o'  fair  Scotland, 

There's  nane  like  Lady  Elspat  fair." 

"  Perform  your  vows,  sweet  William,"  she  says,     5 
"  The  vows  which  ye  ha'  made  to  me  ; 

And  at  the  back  o'  my  mither's  castell, 
This  night  I'll  surely  meet  wi'  thee." 

But  wae  be  to  her  brother's  page, 

That  heard  the  words  thir  twa  did  say ;  10 

He's  tald  them  to  her  lady  mither, 

Wha  wrought  sweet  William  mickle  wae. 

For  she  has  ta'en  him,  sweet  William, 

And  she's  gar'd  bind  him  wi'  his  bow  string, 

Till  the  red  bluid  o'  his  fair  body  15 

Frae  ilka  nail  o'  his  hand  did  spring. 

O  it  fell  ance  upon  a  time 

That  the  Lord -justice  came  to  town  ; 
Out  has  she  ta'en  him,  sweet  William, 

Brought  him  before  the  Lord-justice  boun'.     •.*> 


LADY    ELSPAT.  309 

"  And  what  is  the  crime,  now,  lady,"  he  says, 
"  That  has  by  this  young  man  been  dane  ?  " 

"  O  he  has  broken  my  bonny  castell, 
That  was  weel  biggit  wi'  lime  and  stane. 

"  And  he  has  broken  my  bonny  coffers,  25 

That  was  weel  bandit  wi'  aiken  ban  ; 

And  he  has  stown  my  rich  jewels ; 
I  wot  he  has  stown  them  every  ane." 

Then  out  it  spak  her  Lady  Elspat, 

As  she  sat  by  Lord-justice'  knee  ;  so 

"  Now  ye  hae  told  your  tale,  mither, 

I  pray,  Lord-justice,  yell  now  hear  me. 

"  He  hasna  broken  her  bonny  castell, 
That  was  weel  biggit  wi'  lime  and  stane ; 

Nor  has  he  stown  her  rich  jewels,  35 

For  I  wat  she  has  them  every  ane. 

"  But  though  he  was  my  first  true  love, 
And  though  I  had  sworn  to  be  his  bride, 

'Cause  he  hadna  a  great  estate, 

She  would  this  way  our  loves  divide."  40 

Syne  out  and  spak  the  Lord-justice, 

I  wat  the  tear  was  in  his  e'e  ; 
"  I  see  nae  faut  in  this  young  man  ; 

Sae  loose  his  bands,  and  set  him  free. 

"  And  tak  your  love,  now,  Lady  Elspat,  « 

And  my  best  blessin'  you  baith  upon  ; 

For  gin  he  be  your  first  true  love, 
He  is  my  eldest  sister's  son. 


310  LADY    ELSPAT. 

"  There  stands  a  steed  in  my  stable, 
Cost  me  baith  gold  and  white  mony ; 

Ye's  get  as  mickle  o'  my  free  land 

As  he'll  ride  about  in  a  summer's  day." 


THE   LOVERS   QUARREL;    OR,   CUPIDS 
TRIUMPH. 

"  THIS  « pleasant  History,'  which  '  may  be  sung  to 
the  tune  of  Floras  Farewell/  is  here  republished  from 
a  copy  printed  at  London  for  F.  Cotes  and  others, 
1677,  12mo.  bl.  1.,  preserved  in  the  curious  and  valu 
able  collection  of  that  excellent  and  most  respected 
antiquary  Antony  a  Wood,  in  the  Ashmolean  Mu 
seum  ;  compared  with  another  impression,  for  the  same 
partners,  without  date,  in  the  editor's  possession.  A 
different  copy  of  the  poem,  more  in  the  ballad  form, 
was  published,  and  may  be  found  among  the  king's 
pamphlets  in  the  British  Museum.  Both  copies  are 
conjectured  to  have  been  modernized,  by  different 
persons,  from  some  common  original,  which  has  hith 
erto  eluded  the  vigilance  of  collectors,  but  is  strongly 
suspected  to  have  been  the  composition  of  an  old 
North  country  minstrel. 

"The  full  title  is,  The  Lovers  Quarrel:  or  Cupids 
Triumph  :  being  the  pleasant  history  of  Fair  Rosamond 
of  Scotland.  Being  daughter  to  the  Lord  Arundel, 
whose  love  was  obtained  by  the  valour  of  Tommy  Pots: 
who  conquered  the  Lord  Phenix,  and  wounded  him,  and 
after  obtained  her  to  be  his  wife.  Being  very  delightful 
to  read."  RITSON,  Pieces  of  Ancient  Popular  Poetry, 
p.  135. 


312  THE    LOVERS    QUARREL; 

OF  all  the  lords  in  Scotland  fair, 

And  ladies  that  been  so  bright  of  blee, 

There  is  a  noble  lady  among  them  all, 
And  report  of  her  you  shall  hear  by  me. 

For  of  her  beauty  she  is  bright, 

And  of  her  colour  very  fair, 
She's  daughter  to  Lord  Arundel, 

ApprovM  his  parand  and  his  heir. 

"  He  see  this  bride,"  Lord  Phenix  said, 

"  That  lady  of  so  bright  a  blee, 
And  if  I  like  her  countenance  well, 

The  heir  of  all  my  lands  she'st  be." 

But  when  he  came  the  lady  before, 
Before  this  comely  maid  came  he, 

"  O  God  thee  save,  thou  lady  sweet, 
My  heir  and  parand  thou  shalt  be." 

"  Leave  off  your  suit,"  the  lady  said, 
"  As  you  are  a  lord  of  high  degree  ; 

You  may  have  ladies  enough  at  home, 
And  I  have  a  lord  in  mine  own  country : 

"  For  I  have  a  lover  true  of  mine  own, 

A  serving-man  of  low  degree, 
One  Tommy  Pots  it  is  his  name, 

My  first  love,  and  last  that  ever  shall  be." 

"  If  that  Tom  Pots  [it]  is  his  name, 

I  do  ken  him  right  verily  ; 
I  am  able  to  spend  fourty  pounds  a  week, 

Where  he  is  not  able  to  spend  pounds  three." 


OR,    CUPIDS    TRIUMPH.  313 

"  God  give  you  good  of  your  gold,"  she  said, 

"  And  ever  God  give  you  good  of  your  fee,        so 

Tom  Pots  was  the  first  love  that  ever  I  had, 
And  I  do  mean  him  the  last  to  be." 

With  that  Lord  Phenix  soon  was  mov'd  ; 

Towards  the  lady  did  he  threat ; 
He  told  her  father,  and  so  it  was  prov'd,  35 

How  his  [fair]  daughters  mind  was  set. 

"  O  daughter  dear,  thou  art  my  own, 

The  heir  of  all  my  lands  to  be  ; 
Thou  shalt  be  bride  to  the  Lord  Phenix, 

If  that  thou  mean  to  be  heir  to  me."  <o 

"  O  father  dear,  I  am  your  own, 

And  at  your  command  I  needs  must  be, 

But  bind  my  body  to  whom  you  please, 
My  heart,  Tom  Pots,  shall  go  with  thee." 

Alas !  the  lady  her  fondness  must  leave,  43 

And  all  her  foolish  wooing  lay  aside ; 

The  time  is  come  her  friends  have  appointed, 
That  she  must  be  Lord  Phenix  bride. 

With  that  the  lady  began  to  weep  ; 

She  knew  not  well  then  what  to  say,  » 

How  she  might  Lord  Phenix  deny, 

And  escape  from  marriage  quite  away. 

She  calPd  unto  her  little  foot-page, 

Saying,  "  I  can  trust  none  but  thee  ; 
Go  carry  Tom  Pots  this  letter  fair,  a 

And  bid  him  on  Guildford-green  meet  me  : 


314  THE    LOVERS    QUARREL ; 

"  For  I  must  marry  against  my  mind, 

Or  in  faith  well  proved  it  shall  be ; 
And  tell  to  him  I  am  loving  and  kind, 

And  wishes  him  this  wedding  to  see.  a 

"  But  see  that  thou  note  his  countenance  well, 

And  his  colour,  and  shew  it  to  me  ; 
And  go  thy  way  and  hie  thee  again, 

And  forty  shillings  I  will  give  thee. 

"  For  if  he  smile  now  with  his  lips,  • 

His  stomach  will  give  him  to  laugh  at  the  heart ; 

Then  may  I  seek  another  true  love, 
For  of  Tom  Pots  small  is  my  part. 

"  But  if  he  blush  now  in  his  face, 

Then  in  his  heart  he  will  sorry  be  ;  n 

Then  to  his  vow  he  hath  some  grace, 

And  false  to  him  Pie  never  be." 

Away  this  lacky-boy  he  ran, 

And  a  full  speed  forsooth  went  he, 
Till  he  came  to  Strawberry-castle,  n 

And  there  Tom  Pots  came  he  to  see. 

He  gave  him  the  letter  in  his  hand  ; 

Before  that  he  began  to  read, 
He  told  him  plainly  by  word  of  mouth, 

His  love  was  forc'd  to  be  Lord  Phenix  bride.      sc 

When  he  look'd  on  the  letter  fair, 
The  salt  tears  blemished  his  eye  ; 

v.  63,  high. 


OR,    CUPIDS    TRIUMPH.  315 

Says,  "  I  cannot  read  this  letter  fair, 
Nor  never  a  word  to  see  or  spy. 

"  My  little  boy,  be  to  me  true,  85 

Here  is  five  marks  I  will  give  thee ; 
And  all  these  words  I  must  peruse ; 

And  tell  my  lady  this  from  me  : 

"  By  faith  and  troth  she  is  my  own, 

By  some  part  of  promise,  so  it's  to  be  found ;       9° 
Lord  Phenix  shall  not  have  her  night  nor  day, 

Except  he  can  win  her  with  his  own  hand. 

"  On  Guildford-green  I  will  her  meet ; 

Say  that  I  wish  her  for  me  to  pray, 
For  there  I'le  lose  my  life  so  sweet,  95 

Or  else  the  wedding  I  mean  to  stay." 

Away  this  lackey-boy  he  ran, 

Then  as  fast  as  he  could  hie  ; 
The  lady  she  met  him  two  miles  of  the  way ; 

Says,  "  Why  hast  thou  staid  so  long,  my  boy  ?   100 

"  My  little  boy,  thou  art  but  young, 

It  gives  me  at  heart  thou'l  mock  and  scorn  ; 

He  not  believe  thee  by  word  of  mouth, 
Unless  on  this  book  thou  wilt  be  sworn." 

u  Now  by  this  book,"  the  boy  did  say,  1115 

"  And  Jesus  Christ  be  as  true  to  me, 
Tom  Pots  could  not  read  the  letter  fair, 

Nor  never  a  word  to  spy  .or  see. 

"  He  says,  by  faith  and  troth  you  are  his  own, 
By  some  part  of  promise,  so  it's  to  be  found  ;    110 


316  THE    LOVERS    QUARREL ; 

Lord  Phenix  shall  not  have  you  night  nor  day, 
Except  he  win  you  with  his  own  hand. 

"  On  Guildford-green  he  will  you  meet ; 

He  wishes  you  for  him  to  pray, 
For  there  he'l  lose  his  life  so  sweet, 

Or  else  the  wedding  he  means  to  stay." 

"  If  this  be  true,  my  little  boy, 

These  tidings  which  thou  tellest  to  me, 

Forty  shillings  I  did  thee  promise, 
Here  is  ten  pounds  I  will  give  thee. 

"  My  maidens  all,"  the  lady  said, 
"  That  ever  wish  me  well  to  prove, 

Now  let  us  all  kneel  down  and  pray, 
That  Tommy  Pots  may  win  his  love. 

"  If  it  be  his  fortune  the  better  to  win, 

As  I  pray  to  Christ  in  trinity, 
He  make  him  the  flower  of  all  his  kin, 

For  the  young  Lord  Arundel  be  shall  be." 


THE    SECOND   PART. 

LET'S  leave  talking  of  this  lady  fair, 
In  prayers  full  good  where  she  may  be ; 

Now  let  us  talk  of  Tommy  Pots ; 

To  his  lord  and  master  for  aid  went  he. 

But  when  he  came  Lord  Jockey  before, 

He  kneeled  lowly  on  his  knee  ; 
"  What  news,  what  news,  thou  Tommy  Pots, 

Thou  art  so  full  of  courtesie  ? 


OR,    CUPIDS    TRIUMPH.  317 

"  What  tydings,  what  tydings,  thou  Tommy  Pots, 

Thou  art  so  full  of  courtesie  ? 
Thou  hast  slain  some  of  thy  fellows  fair, 

Or  wrought  to  me  some  villany."  140 

';  I  have  slain  none  of  my  fellows  fair, 

Nor  wrought  to  you  no  villany, 
But  I  have  a  love  in  Scotland  fair, 

And  I  fear  I  shall  lose  her  with  poverty. 

"  If  you'l  not  believe  me  by  word  of  mouth,          us 
But  read  this  letter,  and  you  shall  see, 

Here  by  all  these  suspitious  words 

That  she  her  own  self  hath  sent  to  me." 

But  when  he  had  read  the  letter  fair, 

Of  all  the  suspitious  words  in  it  might  be,          iso 
"  O  Tommy  Pots,  take  thou  no  care, 

Thou'st  never  lose  her  with  poverty. 

"  For  thou'st  have  forty  pounds  a  week, 

In  gold  and  silver  thou  shalt  row, 
And  Harvy  town  I  will  give  thee,  iw 

As  long  as  thou  intend'st  to  wooe. 

"  Thou'st  have  forty  of  thy  fellows  fair, 

And  forty  horses  to  go  with  thee, 
Forty  of  the  best  spears  I  have, 

And  I  myself  in  thy  company."  ieo 

"  I  thank  you,  master,"  said  Tommy  Pots, 

"  That  proffer  is  too  good  for  me ; 
But,  if  Jesus  Christ  stand  on  my  side, 

My  own  hands  shall  set  her  free. 


318  THE    LOVERS    QUARREL; 

"  God  be  with  you,  master,"  said  Tommy  Pots,      iss 
"  Now  Jesus  Christ  you  save  and  see ; 

If  ever  I  come  alive  again, 
Staid  the  wedding  it  shall  be." 

"  O  God  be  your  speed,  thou  Tommy  Pots, 

Thou  art  well  proved  for  a  man  ;  170 

See  never  a  drop  of  blood  thou  spil, 
Nor  yonder  gentleman  confound. 

"  See  that  some  truce  with  him  thou  take, 

And  appoint  a  place  of  liberty  ; 
Let  him  provide  him  as  well  as  he  can,  175 

As  well  provided  thou  shalt  be." 

But  when  he  came  to  Guitdford-green, 

And  there  had  walkt  a  little  aside, 
There  he  was  ware  of  Lord  Phenix  come, 

And  Lady  Rosamond  his  bride.  iso 

Away  by  the  bride  then  Tommy  Pots  went, 

But  never  a  word  to  her  he  did  say, 
Till  he  the  Lord  Phenix  came  before ; 

He  gave  him  the  right  time  of  the  day. 

"  O  welcome,  welcome,  thou  Tommy  Pots,  is& 

Thou  serving-man  of  low  degree  ; 
How  doth  thy  lord  and  master  at  home, 

And  all  the  ladies  in  that  country  ?  " 

"  My  lord  and  master  is  in  good  health, 

I  trust  since  that  I  did  him  see ;  190 

Will  you  walk  with  me  to  an  out-side, 
Two  or  three  words  to  talk  with  me  ? 


OR,   CUPIDS   TRIUMPH.  319 

"  You  are  a  noble  man,"  said  Tom, 

"  And  born  a  lord  in  Scotland  free ; 
You  may  have  ladies  enough  at  home,  iw 

And  never  take  my  love  from  me." 

"  Away,  away,  thou  Tommy  Pots ; 

Thou  serving-man,  stand  thou  aside  ; 
It  is  not  a  serving-man  this  day, 

That  can  hinder  me  of  my  bride."  a» 

"  If  I  be  a  serving-man,"  said  Tom, 

"  And  you  a  lord  of  high  degree, 
A  spear  or  two  with  you  I'le  run, 

Before  I'le  lose  her  cowardly. 

"  Appoint  a  place,  I  will  thee  meet,  aw 

Appoint  a  place  of  liberty ; 
For  there  I'le  lose  my  life  so  sweet, 

Or  else  my  lady  I'le  set  free." 

"  On  Guildford-green  I  will  thee  meet ; 

No  man  nor  boy  shall  come  with  me."  210 

"  As  I  am  a  man,"  said  Tommy  Pots, 

"  lie  have  as  few  in  my  company." 

And  thus  staid  the  marriage  was, 

The  bride  unmarried  went  home  again  ; 

Then  to  her  maids  fast  did  she  laugh,  215 

And  in  her  heart  she  was  full  fain. 

"  My  maidens  all,"  the  lady  said, 

"  That  ever  wait  on  me  this  day, 
Now  let  us  all  kneel  [lowly]  down, 

And  for  Tommy  Pots  let  us  all  pray.  220 


320  THE    LOVERS    QUARREL ; 

"  If  it  be  his  fortune  the  better  to  win, 

As  I  trust  to  God  in  trinity, 
He  make  him  the  flower  of  all  his  kin, 

For  the  young  Lord  Arundel  he  shall  be/ 


THE    THIRD    PART. 

WHEN  Tom  Pots  came  home  again,  225 

To  try  for  his  love  he  had  but  a  week  ; 

For  sorrow,  God  wot,  he  need  not  care, 
For  four  days  that  he  fel  sick. 

With  that  his  master  to  him  came, 

Says,  "  Pray  thee,  Tom  Pots,  tell  me  if  thou  doubt 
Whether  thou  hast  gotten  thy  gay  lady,  asi 

Or  thou  must  go  thy  love  without." 

"  O  master,  yet  it  is  unknown ; 

Within  these  two  days  well  try'd  it  must  be  ; 
He  is  a  lord,  I  am  but  a  serving-man,  235 

I  fear  I  shall  lose  her  with  poverty." 

"  I  prethee,  Tom  Pots,  get  thee  on  thy  feet, 

My  former  promises  kept  shall  be  ; 
As  I  am  a  lord  in  Scotland  fair, 

Thou'st  never  lose  her  with  poverty.  240 

"  For  thou'st  have  the  half  of  my  lands  a  year, 
And  that  will  raise  thee  many  a  pound ; 

Before  thou  shalt  out-braved  be, 

Thou  shalt  drop  angels  with  him  on  the  ground." 

"  I  thank  you,  master,"  said  Tommy  Pots,  245 

"  Yet  there  is  one  thing  of  you  I  would  fain  ; 


OR,   CUPIDS    TRIUMPH.  321 

If  that  I  lose  my  lady  sweet, 

How  I'st  restore  your  goods  again  ?  " 

"  If  that  thou  win  the  lady  sweet, 

Thou  mayst  well  forth  thou  shalt  pay  ine  :          200 
If  thou  losest  thy  lady,  thou  losest  enough ; 

Thou  shalt  not  pay  me  one  penny." 

"  You  have  thirty  horses  in  one  close, 
You  keep  them  all  both  frank  and  free  ; 

Amongst  them  all  there's  an  old  white  horse         255 
This  day  would  set  my  lady  free. 

"  That  is  an  old  horse  with  a  cut  tail, 

Full  sixteen  years  of  age  is  he ; 
If  thou  wilt  lend  me  that  old  horse, 

Then  could  I  win  her  easily."  m 

"  That's  a  foolish  opinion,"  his  master  said, 
"  And  a  foolish  opinion  thou  tak'st  to  thee ; 

Thou'st  have  a  better  then  ever  he  was, 

Though  forty  pounds  more  it  should  cost  me." 

"  O  your  choice  horses  are  wild  and  tough,  265 

And  little  they  can  skill  of  their  train ; 

If  I  be  out  of  my  saddle  cast, 

They  are  so  wild  they'l  ne'r  be  tain." 

"  Thou'st  have  that  horse,"  his  master  said, 

"  If  that  one  thing  thou  wilt  tell  me ;  -^ 

Why  that  horse  is  better  than  any  other, 
I  pray  thee,  Tom  Pots,  shew  thou  to  me." 

v.  270,  me  tell. 
VOL.  IV.  21 


322  THE    LOVERS    QUARREL ; 

"  That  horse  is  old,  of  stomach  bold, 

And  well  can  he  skill  of  his  train ; 
If  I  be  out  of  my  saddle  cast,  275 

He'l  either  stand  still,  or  turn  again." 

"  Thou'st  have  the  horse  with  all  my  heart, 

And  my  plate  coat  of  silver  free  ; 
An  hundred  men  to  stand  at  thy  back, 

To  fight  if  he  thy  master  be."  280 

44 1  thank  you  master,"  said  Tommy  Pots, 

"  That  proffer  is  too  good  for  me  ; 
I  would  not  for  ten  thousand  pounds, 

Have  man  or  boy  in  my  company. 

u  God  be  with  you,  master,"  said  Tommy  Pots,      285 

"  Now,  as  you  are  a  man  of  law, 
One  thing  let  me  crave  at  your  hand ; 

Let  never  a  one  of  my  fellows  know. 

"  For  if  that  my  fellows  they  did  wot, 

Or  ken  of  my  extremity,  290 

Except  you  keep  them  under  a  lock, 

Behind  me  I'm  sure  they  would  not  be." 

But  when  he  came  to  Guildford-green, 

He  waited  hours  two  or  three ; 
There  he  was  ware  of  Lord  Phenix  come,  295 

And  four  men  in  his  company. 

"  You  have  broken  your  vow,"  said  Tommy  Pots, 
"  The  vow  which  you  did  make  to  me  ; 

You  said  you  would  bring  neither  man  nor  boy, 
And  now  has  brought  more  than  two  or  three."  aoo 


OR,    CUPIDS    TRIUMPH.  323 

"  These  are  my  men,"  Lord  Phenix  said, 

"  Which  every  day  do  wait  on  me  ; 
If  any  of  them  dare  proffer  to  strike, 

Tie  run  my  spear  through  his  body." 

"  Tie  run  no  race  now,"  said  Tommy  Pots,  aos 

"  Except  now  this  may  be  ; 
If  either  of  us  be  slain  this  day, 

The  other  shall  forgiven  be." 

"  Pie  make  that  vow  with  all  my  heart, 

My  men  shall  bear  witness  with  me  ;  310 

And  if  thou  slay  me  here  this  day, 

In  Scotland  worse  belov'd  thou  never  shalt  be." 

They  turn'd  their  horses  thrice  about, 

To  run  the  race  so  eagerly  ; 
Lord  Phenix  he  was  fierce  and  stout,  sis 

And  ran  Tom  Pots  through  the  thick  o'  th'  thigh. 

He  bor'd  him  out  of  the  saddle  fair, 

Down  to  the  ground  so  sorrowfully  : 
"  For  the  loss  of  my  life  I  do  not  care, 

But  for  the  loss  of  my  fair  lady.  sao 

"  Now  for  the  loss  of  my  lady  sweet, 

Which  once  I  thought  to  have  been  my  wife, 

I  pray  thee,  Lord  Phenix,  ride  not  away, 
For  with  thee  I  would  end  my  life." 

Tom  Pots  was  but  a  serving-man,        .  325 

But  yet  he  was  a  doctor  good  ; 
He  bound  his  handkerchief  on  his  wound, 

And  with  some  kind  of  words  he  stancht  his  blood. 

329, ».  e.  he  made  use  of  a  charm  for  that  purpose. 


324  THE    LOVERS    QUARREL ; 

He  leapt  into  his  saddle  again, 

The  blood  in  his  body  began  to  warm ;  390 

He  mist  Lord  Phenix  body  fair, 

And  ran  him  through  the  brawn  of  the  arm. 

He  bor'd  him  out  of  his  saddle  fair, 
Down  to  the  ground  most  sorrowfully  ; 

Says,  "  Prethee,  Lord  Phenix,  rise  up  and  fight,  ass 
Or  yield  my  lady  unto  me." 

"  Now  for  to  fight  I  cannot  tell, 

And  for  to  fight  I  am  not  sure  ; 
Thou  hast  run  me  throw  the  brawn  o'  the  arm, 

That  with  a  spear  I  may  not  endure.  s*. 

"  Thou'st  have  the  lady  with  all  my  heart ; 

It  was  never  likely  better  to  prove 
With  me,  or  any  nobleman  else, 

That  would  hinder  a  poor  man  of  his  love." 

"  Seeing  you  say  so  much,"  said  Tommy  Pots,       3« 

I  will  not  seem  your  butcher  to  be ; 
But  I  will  come  and  stanch  your  blood, 

If  any  thing  you  will  give  me." 

As  he  did  stanch  Lord  Phenix  blood, 

Lord  !  in  his  heart  he  did  rejoice ;  sso 

"  I'le  not  take  the  lady  from  you  thus, 

But  of  her  you'st  have  another  choice. 

"  Here  :s  a  lane  of  two  miles  long  ; 

At  either  end  we  set  will  be ; 
The  lady  shall  stand  us  among,  355 

Her  own  choice  shall  set  her  free. " 


OR,    CUPIDS    TRIUMPH.  325 

"  If  thou'l  do  so,"  Lord  Phenix  said, 

"  To  lose  her  by  her  own  choice  it's  honesty ; 

Chuse  whether  I  get  her,  or  go  her  without, 

Forty  pounds  I  will  give  thee."  aeo 

But  when  they  in  that  lane  was  set, 

The  wit  of  a  woman  for  to  prove, 
"  By  the  faith  of  my  body,"  the  lady  said, 

"  Then  Tom  Pots  must  needs  have  his  love." 

Towards  Tom  Pots  the  lady  did  hie,  ses 

To  get  behind  him  hastily ; 
"  Nay  stay,  nay  stay,"  Lord  Phenix  said, 

"  Better  proved  it  shall  be. 

"  Stay  you  with  your  maidens  here, 

In  number  fair  they  are  but  three  ;  sro 

Tom  Pots  and  I  will  go  behind  yonder  wall, 

That  one  of  us  two  be  proved  to  dye." 

But  when  they  came  behind  the  wall, 

The  one  came  not  the  other  nigh  ; 
For  the  Lord  Phenix  had  made  a  vow,  375 

That  with  Tom  Pots  he  would  never  fight. 

"  O  give  me  this  choice,"  Lord  Phenix  said, 
"  To  prove  whether  true  or  false  she  be, 

And  I  will  go  to  the  lady  fair, 

And  tell  her  Tom  Pots  slain  is  he."  380 

When  he  came  from  behind  the  wall, 
With  his  face  all  bloody  as  it  might  be, 

"  O  lady  sweet,  thou  art  my  own, 
For  Tom  Pots  slain  is  he. 


326  THE    LOVERS    QUARREL ; 

u  Now  have  I  slain  him,  Tommy  Pots,  sss 

And  given  him  deaths  wounds  two  or  three  ; 

O  lady  sweet,  thou  art  my  own  ; 

Of  all  loves,  wilt  thou  live  with  me  ?  " 

"  If  thou  hast  slain  him,  Tommy  Pots, 

And  given  him  deaths  wounds  two  or  three,      390 

Pie  sell  the  state  of  my  fathers  lands, 
But  hanged  shall  Lord  Phenix  be." 

With  that  the  lady  fell  in  a  swound, 

For  a  grieved  woman,  God  wot,  was  she ; 

Lord  Phenix  he  was  ready  then,  see 

To  take  her  up  so  hastily. 

"  O  lady  sweet,  stand  thou  on  thy  feet, 

Tom  Pots  alive  this  day  may  be  ; 
Pie  send  for  thy  father,  Lord  Arundel,  400 

And  he  and  I  the  wedding  will  see. 

"  Pie  send  for  thy  father,  Lord  Arundel, 

And  he  and  I  the  wedding  will  see  ; 
If  he  will  not  maintain  you  well, 

Both  lands  and  livings  you'st  have  of  me." 

"  lie  see  this  wedding,"  Lord  Arundel  said,  405 

"  Of  my  daughters  luck  that  is  so  fair ; 

Seeing  the  matter  will  be  no  better, 

Of  all  my  lands  Tom  Pots  shall  be  the  heir." 

With  that  the  lady  began  for  to  smile, 

For  a  glad  woman,  God  wot,  was  she ;  4ic 

"  Now  all  my  maids,"  the  lady  said, 

"  Example  you  may  take  by  me. 


OK,    CUPIDS    TRIUMPH.  327 

"  But  all  the  ladies  of  Scotland  fair, 

And  lasses  of  England  that  well  would  prove, 

Neither  marry  for  gold  nor  goods,  «« 

Nor  marry  for  nothing  but  only  love. 

"  For  I  had  a  lover  true  of  my  own, 

A  serving-man  of  low  degree ; 
Now  from  Tom  Pots  Tie  change  his  name, 

For  the  young  Lord  Arundel  he  shall  be."         **) 


THE  MERCHANT'S  DAUGHTER  OF  BRIS- 
TOW. 


From  Collier's  Book  of  Roxburghe  Ballads,  p.  104. 

"  THIS  narrative  ballad,  which  is  full  of  graceful  but 
unadorned  simplicity,  is  mentioned  in  Fletcher's  Mon 
sieur  Thomas,  (Act  iii.  Sc.  3,)  by  the  name  of  Maudlin 
the  Merchant's  Daughter.  Two  early  editions  of  it 
are  known :  one  without  printer's  name,  (clearly  much 
older  than  the  other,)  is  that  which  we  have  used ;  we 
may  conclude  that  it  was  written  considerably  before 
James  I.  came  to  the  throne.  It  was  last  reprinted  in 
1738,  but  in  that  impression  it  was  much  modernized 
and  corrupted." 


BEHOLD  the  touchstone  of  true  love, 

Maudlin  the  Merchant's  Daughter  of  Bristow  towne, 

Whose  firme  affection  nothing  could  move ; 

This  favour  beares  the  lovely  browne. 

A  gallant  youth  was  dwelling  by,  « 

Which  many  yeares  had  borne  this  lady  great  good  will ; 
Shee  loved  him  so  faithfully, 
But  all  her  friends  withstood  it  still. 


THE  MERCHANT'S  DAUGHTER.    329 

The  young  man  now,  perceiving  well 

He  could  not  get  nor  win  the  favour  of  her  friends,    ro 

The  force  of  sorrow  to  expell 

To  view  strange  countreys  hee  intends. 

And  now,  to  take  his  last  farewell 
Of  his  true  love,  his  faire  and  constant  Maudlen, 
With  musicke  sweete  that  did  excell  15 

Hee  plaies  under  her  window  then. 

"  Farewell,"  quoth  he,  "  mine  owne  true  love, 
Farewell,  my  deare,  and  chiefest  treasure  of  my  heart ! 
Through  fortune's  spight,  that  false  did  prove, 
I  am  inforc'd  from  thee  to  part,  20 

"  Into  the  land  of  Italy  : 

There  wil  I  waile,  and  weary  out  my  dayes  in  wo ; 

Seeing  my  true  love  is  kept  from  mee, 

I  hold  my  life  a  mortal  fo. 

"  Faire  Bristow  towne,  therefore,  adieu,  25 

For  Padua  shall  bee  my  habitation  now ; 
Although  my  love  doth  lodge  in  thee, 
To  Avhom  alone  my  heart  I  vow." 

With  trickling  teares  this  hee  did  sing, 
With  sighs  and  sobs  descending  from  his  heart  full  sore : 
Hee  said,  when  he  his  hands  did  wring,  si 

"  Farewell,  sweet  love,  for  evermore  ! " 

Fair  Maudlin,  from  a  window  high 
Beholding  her  true  love  with  musicke  where  hee  stood, 
But  not  a  word  she  durst  reply,  35 

Fearing  her  parents  angry  mood. 


330    THE  MERCHANT'S  DAUGHTER. 

In  teares  she  spent  this  dolefull  night, 

W  ishing  (though  naked)  with  her  faithfull  friend  : 

She  blames  her  friends,  and  fortune's  spight, 

That  wrought  their  loves  such  lucklesse  end.  *> 

And  in  her  heart  shee  made  a  vow 

Cleane  to  forsake  her  country  and  her  kinsfolkes  all, 

And  for  to  follow  her  true  love, 

To  bide  all  chance  that  might  befall. 

The  night  is  gone,  and  the  day  is  come,  « 

And  in  the  morning  very  early  shee  did  rise : 
She  gets  her  downe  in  a  lower  roome, 
Where  sundrie  seamen  she  espies. 

A  gallant  master  amongst  them  all, 

(The  master  of  a  faire  and  goodlie  ship  was  he)         eo 

Who  there  stood  waiting  in  the  hall, 

To  speake  with  her  father,  if  it  might  be. 

She  kindly  takes  him  by  the  hand : 

"  Good  sir,"  said  shee,  "  would  you  speake  with  any 

heere?" 

Quoth  he,  "  Faire  maid,  therefore  I  stand  :  "  55 

"  Then,  gentle  sir,  I  pray  you  draw  neere." 

Into  a  pleasant  parlour  by, 

With  hand  in  hand  she  brings  the  seaman  all  alone; 

Sighing  to  him  most  piteously, 

She  thus  to  him  did  make  her  moane.  60 

Shee  falls  upon  her  tender  knee : 

"  Good  sir,"  she  said,  "  now  pittie  you  a  woman's  woe, 

And  prove  a  faithfull  friend  to  me, 

That  I  my  griefe  to  you  may  shew." 


THE  MERCHANT'S  DAUGHTER.    331 

"  Sith  you  repose  your  trust,"  he  said,  66 

"  To  me  that  am  unknowne,  and  eke  a  stranger  heere, 
Be  you  assured,  most  proper  maid, 
Most  faithfull  still  I  will  appeare." 

"I  have  a  brother,  then,"  quoth  shee, 

:'  AVhoin  as  my  life  I  love  and  favour  tenderlie:          70 

In  Padua,  alas !  is  he, 

Full  sicke,  God  wot,  and  like  to  die. 

"  And  faine  I  would  my  brother  see, 
But  that  my  father  will  not  yeeld  to  let  me  goe  ; 
Wherefore,  good  sir,  be  good  to  mee,  75 

And  unto  me  this  favour  shew. 

"  Some  ship-boye's  garment  bring  to  mee, 

That  I  disguis'd  may  goe  away  from  hence  unknowne ; 

And  unto  sea  He  goe  with  thee, 

If  thus  much  favour  may  be  showne."  so 

"  Faire  maid,"  quoth  he,  "  take  heere  my  hand : 
I  will  fulfill  each  thing  that  you  desire, 
And  set  you  safe  in  that  same  land, 
And  in  that  place  that  you  require." 

She  gave  him  then  a  tender  kisse,  85 

And  saith,  "  Your  servant,  gallant  master,  will  I  be, 
And  prove  your  faithfull  friend  for  this  : 
Sweet  master,  then,  forget  not  me." 

This  done,  as  they  had  both  decreed, 
Soone  after  (early)  before  the  breake  of  day,  w 

He  brings  her  garments  then  with  speed, 
Wherein  she  doth  her  selfe  array : 


332    THE  MERCHANT'S  DAUGHTER. 

And  ere  her  father  did  arise, 
Shee  meets  her  master  as  he  walkes  in  the  hall : 
Shee  did  attend  on  him  likewise,  95 

Even  till  her  father  did  him  call. 

But  ere  the  Merchant  made  an  end 

Of  all  the  matters  to  the  master  he  could  say, 

His  wife  came  weeping  in  with  speed, 

Saying,  "  Our  daughter  is  gone  away !  "  100 

The  Merchant,  thus  amaz'd  in  mind, 

"  Yonder  vile  wretch  intic'd  away  my  child,"  quoth  he ; 

"  But,  well  I  wot,  I  shall  him  find 

At  Padua,  in  Italy." 

With  that  bespake  the  master  brave  :  ios 

"  Worshipfull  master,  thither  goes  this  pretty  youth, 
And  any  thing  that  you  would  have, 
He  will  performe  it,  and  write  the  truth." 

"  Sweet  youth,"  quoth  hee,  "  if  it  be  so, 

Beare  me  a  letter  to  the  English  merchants  there,     no 

And  gold  on  thee  I  will  bestow : 

My  daughter's  welfare  I  do  feare." 

Her  mother  takes  her  by  the  hand  ; 

"  Faire  youth,"  qd  she,  "  if  there  thou  dost  my  daughter 

see, 

Let  me  thereof  soone  understand,  115 

And  there  is  twenty  crownes  for  thee." 

Thus,  through  the  daughter's  strange  disguise, 

The  mother  knew  not  when  shee  spake  unto  her  child ; 

And  after  her  master  straightway  shee  hies, 

Taking  her  leave  with  countenance  milde.  120 


THE  MERCHANT'S  DAUGHTER.    333 

Thus  to  the  sea  faire  Maudlin  is  gone 

With  her  gentle  master ;  God  send  them  a  merry  wind ; 

Where  wee  a  while  must  let  them  alone, 

Till  you  the  second  part  doe  find. 


THE    SECOND    PART. 

"  WELCOME,  sweete  Maudlin,  from  the  sea,  125 

Where  bitter  stormes  and  tempests  doe  arise : 

The  plesant  bankes  of  Italy 

Wee  may  behold  with  mortal  eyes." 

"  Thankes,  gentle  master,"  then  quoth  shee ; 

"  A  faithfull  friend  in  sorrow  hast  thou  beene  ;          iao 

If  fortune  once  doth  smile  on  mee, 

My  thankfull  heart  shall  well  bee  seene. 

"  Blest  be  the  land  that  feedes  my  love  ! 
Blest  be  the  place  where  as  his  person  doth  abide  ! 
No  triall  will  I  sticke  to  prove,  ias 

Whereby  my  true  love  may  be  tride. 

"  No  we  will  I  walke  with  joyful  heart, 

To  viewe  the  towne  where  as  my  darlinge  doth  re- 

maine, 

And  seeke  him  out  in  every  part, 
Untill  I  doe  his  sight  attaine."  no 

"  And  I,"  quoth  he,  "  will  not  forsake 
Sweete  Maudlin  in  her  sorrow  up  and  downe : 
In  wealth  and  woe  thy  part  He  take, 
And  bring  thee  safe  to  Padua  towne." 


334    THE  MERCHANT'S  DAUGHTER. 

And  after  many  wearie  steps  34f> 

In  Padua  they  safely  doe  arrive  at  last : 
For  very  joy  her  heart  it  leapes  ; 
She  thinkes  not  of  her  sorrowes  past. 

Condemned  to  dye  hee  was,  alas  ! 

Except  he  would  from  his  religion  turne  ;  15° 

But  rather  then  hee  would  to  masse, 

In  fiery  flames  he  vow'd  to  burne. 

Now  doth  Maudlin  weepe  and  waile  : 
Her  joy  is  chang'd  to  weeping,  sorrow,  griefe  and  care ; 
But  nothing  could  her  plaints  prevaile,  i5S 

For  death  alone  must  be  his  share. 

Shee  walkes  under  the  prison  walls, 

Where  her  true  love  doth  lye  and  languish  in  distresse  ; 

Most  wofully  for  foode  he  calls, 

When  hunger  did  his  heart  oppresse.  iso 

He  sighs  and  sobs  and  makes  great  moane  : 
"  Farewell,"  hee  said,  "  sweete  England,  now  for  ever 
more, 

And  all  my  friends  that  have  me  knowne 
In  Bristow  towne  with  wealth  and  store. 

"  But  most  of  all  farewell,"  quoth  hee,  w» 

"My  owne  true  love,  sweet  Maudlin,  whom   I  left 

behind ; 

For  never  more  shall  I  see  thee. 
Woe  to  thy  father  most  unkind  ! 

"  How  well  were  I,  if  thou  wert  here, 

With  thy  faire  hands  to  close  these  wretched  eyes  :  iro 


THE  MERCHANT'S  DAUGHTER.    335 

My  torments  easie  would  appeare ; 
My  soule  with  joy  shall  scale  the  skies." 

When  Maudlin  heard  her  lover's  moane, 

Her  eyes  with  teares,  her  heart  with   sorrow  filled 

was: 

To  speake  with  him  no  meanes  is  knowne,  175 

Such  grievous  doome  on  him  did  passe. 

Then  she  cast  off  her  lad's  attire  ; 

A  maiden's  weede  upon  her  back  she  seemely  set ; 

To  the  judge's  house  shee  did  enquire, 

And  there  shee  did  a  service  get.  wo 

Shee  did  her  duty  there  so  well, 

And  eke  so  prudently  she  did  her  selfe  behave, 

With  her  in  love  her  master  fell ; 

His  servant's  favour  hee  doth  crave. 

"  Maudlin,"  quoth  hee,  "  my  heart's  delight,  iu 

To  whom  my  heart  is  in  affection  tied, 
Breed  not  my  death  through  thy  despight ; 
A  faithfull  friend  I  will  be  tryed. 

"  Grant  me  thy  love,  faire  maid,"  quoth  hee, 

"  And  at  my  hands  require  what  thou  canst  devise,  190 

And  I  will  grant  it  unto  thee, 

Whereby  thy  credit  may  arise." 

"  I  have  a  brother,  sir,"  she  said, 

"  For  his  religion  is  now  condemned  to  dye  : 

In  loathsome  prison  hee  is  layd,  ias 

Opprest  with  griefe  and  misery. 


336    THE  MERCHANT'S  DAUGHTER. 

"  Grant  me  my  brother's  life,"  shee  said, 

"  And  to  you  my  love  and  liking  I  will  give." 

"  That  may  not  be,"  quoth  hee,  "  faire  maid  ; 

Except  he  turne,  he  cannot  live."  200 

"  An  English  Frier  there  is,"  ghee  said, 
"  Of  learning  great  and  passing  pure  of  life, 
Let  him  to  my  brother  be  sent, 
And  he  will  finish  soone  the  strife." 

Her  master  hearing  this  request,  ans 

The  marriner  in  frier's  weed  she  did  array, 
And  to  her  love,  that  lay  distrest, 
Shee  did  a  letter  straight  convey. 

When  hee  had  read  these  gentle  lines, 

His  heart  was  ravished  with  sudden  joy ;  20 

Where  now  shee  was  full  well  hee  knew  : 

The  frier  likewise  was  not  coy ; 

But  did  declare  to  him  at  large 
The  enterprise  for  him  his  love  had  taken  in  hand. 
The  young  man  did  the  frier  charge,  215 

His  love  should  straight  depart  the  land. 

*'  Here  is  no  place  for  her,"  hee  said, 

"  But  woefull  death  and  danger  of  her  harmlesse  life  : 

Professing  truth  I  was  betraid, 

And  fearfull  flames  must  end  my  strife.  220 

"  For,  ere  I  will  my  faith  deny, 

And  sweare  my  selfe  to  follow  damned  Antichrist, 

He  yeeld  my  body  for  to  die, 

To  live  in  heaven  with  the  highest." 


THE  MERCHANT'S  DAUGHTER.    337 

"  O  sir ! "  the  gentle  frier  said,  225 

"  For  your  sweet  love  recant,  and  save  your  wished  life. 
A  wofull  match,"  quoth  hee,  "  is  made 
Where  Christ  is  lost  to  win  a  wife." 

When  she  had  wrought  all  meanes  that  might 
To  save  her  friend,  and  that  she  saw  it  would  not  bee, 
Then  of  the  judge  shee  claimed  her  right,  231 

To  die  the  death  as  well  as  hee. 

When  no  perswasion  could  prevaile, 
Nor  change  her  mind  in  any  thing  that  shee  had  said, 
She  was  with  him  condemned  to  die,  235 

And  for  them  both  one  fire  was  made. 

And  arme  in  arme  most  joyfully 

These  lovers  twaine  unto  the  fire  they  did  goe  : 

The  marriner  most  faithfully 

Was  likewise  partner  of  their  woe.  240 

But  when  the  judges  understood 
The  faithfull  friendship  did  in  them  remaine, 
They  saved  their  lives  ;  and  afterward 
To  England  sent  them  home  againe. 

Now  was  their  sorrow  turned  to  joy,  a15 

And  faithfull  lovers  had  now  their  heart's  desire : 
Their  paines  so  well  they  did  imploy, 
God  granted  that  they  did  require. 

And  when  they  were  to  England  come, 
And  in  merry  Bristow  arrived  at  the  last,  sv) 

Great  joy  there  was  to  all  and  some 
That  heard  the  dangers  they  had  past. 
VOL.  iv.  22 


338    THE  MERCHANT'S  DAUGHTER. 

Her  gentle  master  shee  desired 
To  be  her  father,  and  at  the  church  to  give  her  then : 
It  was  fulfilled  as  shee  required,  ass 

Unto  the  joy  of  all  good  men. 


GLOSSARY. 


Figures  placed  after  words  denote  the  pages  in  which 
they  occur. 


a',  aU. 

abee,  be. 

abeen,  aboif,  above. 

ae,  one. 

aglets,  tags  to  laces. 

airy,  ery,  fearful,  inspiring 
dread. 

among,  144,  from  time  to  time. 

and,  if. 

anew,  enough. 

auewche,  enough. 

angel,  a  gold  coin,  varying  in 
value  from  about  six  shillings 
and  eight  pence  to  ten  shil 
lings. — HalliwelPs  Diet. 

apaid,  satisfied. 

as  who  sayeth,  so  to  speak. 

at,  that. 

attour,  over,  across. 

auld  son,  a  relative  term  for 
a  boy  older  than  the  youngest. 

ava,  ofaU. 

ayont,  beyond. 

baill,  sorrow. 


balow,  a  word  used  in  lulling 
children. 

ban,  band. 

banning,  cursing. 

bed-stock,  the  side  of  the  bed 
further  from  the  wall. 

begoud,  began. 

beked,  305,  made  warm  ? 

belinger,  283  ? 

bemean,  86,  disparage. 

ben,  in. 

benjed,  305,  received  hospitably, 
made  preparations  for  his 
comfort  ? 

besyd,  247,  astray. 

be  that,  by  that. 

bewray,  discord. 

bier,  cry. 

bierdly,  stately. 

bigged,  biggit,  built. 

Billy  Blin,  a  benignant  house 
hold  fairy,  like  the  Lubber 
Fiend. 

binna,  be  not. 

birk,  birch. 


340 


GLOSSARY. 


birling,  drinking. 

blae,  blue. 

blaewort,    blue     bottle,    witch 

bells. 

blee,  complexion. 
blin'd,  blinded. 
bone,  247,  bane. 
boon,  above. 
borrow,  ransom,  rescue. 
bot  dreid,  246,  without  doubt. 
boud,  297? 
bought,  a  pen  in  the  corner  of  a 

fold,  into  which  the  ewes  are 

driven  to  be  milked. 
bower,  chamber,  dwelling. 
brae,  hill-side. 
brake  n,  female  fern. 
braw,  brave,  fine,  handsome. 
brawn,  93,  calf  of  the  leg. 
brayd  attour  the  bent,  248, 

strode    across   the  grass  or 

field. 

brent,  308,  high,  straight. 
bride-ale,  a  wedding  festival  so 

called  from  the  brides  selling 

ale  on  the  wedding  day,  in 

return  for  which  she  received 

a  large   price  by    way    of 

present. 
bruik,  enjoy. 
brynies,  cuirasses. 
bug,  built. 
burd,  lady. 
burn,  brook. 
busk,      dress,     adorn,     make 

ready.  e  \ 

but,  out. 

but  and,  but  also. 
bute  [boot],  help. 


ca',  called. 

caddie,  errand-boy. 

cairis,  cares. 

camovine,  camomile. 

can,  know. 

chap,  rap. 

certaine,  in,  certainly. 

close,  enclosure,  an  enclosea 
field. 

coffer,  coif,  a  woman's  head 
dress  ? 

coft,  bought. 

cog,  milking-pail. 

confound,  destroy. 

corss,  cross. 

cowt,  colt. 

cowth,  cowd,  248,  could,  used 
as  an  auxiliary  to  form  the 
preterit  tense. 

crack,  merry  talk. 

cramasie,  crimson. 

cruds,  curds. 

cute,  ancle. 

cuvating,  coveting. 

daurna,  dare  not. 


dead,  death. 
dearly,  dear. 
dee,  die. 
dee,  do. 
deed,  death. 

deill,  250,  deal;  247,  dally  f 
deir,  246,  frighten. 
dele,  144,  particle,  bit. 
departe,   147,  separate;     de 
parting,  249,  dividing. 
dern,  secret. 
dey,  dairy  woman. 


GLOSSARY. 


341 


dill,  assuage,  soothe. 

dings,  beats. 

disparage,  157,  cause  to  match 

unequally. 
distan,  distinguish. 
distrayne,  distress. 
d'ou,  do  on,  don. 
dough  t,  dread. 
dre,  suffer. 
dreder,  dread. 
dreed,  suffered. 
drest,  247,  placed ;  in  dule  I 

am  so  drest,  1  am  so  plunged 

in  sorrow. 
drie,  bear,  endure. 
dule,  sorrow. 
dyke,  wall. 

echeon,  each  one. 
een,  eyes. 
een,  one. 
enew,  enough. 
eik,  increase. 

fa',  300? 

fair,  go. 

fa's  [fa  as],  Jhave  my  lot  as. 

fauld-dyke,  wall  of  the  fold. 

fawn,  fallen. 

fee,  money,  possessions. 

feir,  246,  appearance,  demea 
nor. 

fie,  cattle  of  any  kind,  sheep. 

firth,  an  enclosed  wood,  a  field 
within  a  wood. 

fit, /cot 

forbears,  ancestors. 

forbye,  on  one  side. 

fott,  fuU. 


fra,  247,/7-om  the  time  that. 
fre,  free,  noble. 
fy,  260,  haste  ! 

gait,  way. 

gaits,  goats. 

gar,  cause,  make. 

gare,  below  her,  below  the  gore 
in  the  edge  of  'her  skirt  f  or 
below  her  dress  merely  ? 

gaucy,  76,  burly,  strong. 

gear,  goods. 

girse,  grass. 

glamer,  glamour,  a  charm  ex 
ercised  on  the  eye. 

God  before,  God  guide  you  ! 

haill,  healthy,  247,  whole. 

haik  up,  33,  carry  off  by  force, 
Jamieson.  ( ? ) 

hald,  hold,  heep. 

hap,  covering;  happed,  cover 
ed. 

hard,  heard. 

hardely,  assuredly. 

haud,  hold;  haud  unthocht 
lang,  keep  from  growing 
weary. 

her,  their. 

heill,  hele,  health. 

hes,  hast. 

het,  hot. 

hich,  high. 

hie,  on,  aloud. 

hinna,  have  not. 

hinny,  darling. 

his  alane,  alone  by  himself. 

Hollans  boats,  13.  Qy.  holly- 
boats  ? 


342 


GLOSSARY. 


holland,  hotty. 

hooding  o'  grey,  66,  hodden- 
grey,  cloth  with  the  natural 
color  of  the  wool. 

holds  hair,  250,  uplands  bleak. 

howp,  hope. 

huche,  crag,  steep  bank. 

I  dern  with  the  bot  gif  I  drill, 
247;  unless  1  secretly  dally 
with  thee  ? 

I'st,  1  shall 

like,  each;  this  ilka,  this 
same. 

intill,  83,  upon. 

intent,  248,  thought,  mind. 

in  worth,  205,  gladly,  content- 


janglour,  prater. 
jimp,  slender. 

kail-blade,  leaf  of  colewort. 

kail-yardie,  kitchen  garden. 

kebbuck,  cheese. 

keep,  heed. 

keipand,  keeping. 

kenna,  know  not. 

kep,  catch. 

kilt,  kilted,  tucked  up. 

kintra,  country. 

knicking,  110,  wringing,  so  as 

to  make  snap. 
knowe,  knoll. 
kye,  cows. 

laigh,  low. 

lair,  lore,  doctrine. 

lake,  120,  reproach. 


lauch,  laugh. 

lave,  rest. 

laverock,  lark. 

lawe,  149,  custom. 

lax,  relief,  release. 

lea',  leave. 

leal,  true. 

lear'd,  learned. 

lee-lang,  live-long 

leed,  language. 

leesome,  pleasant,  amiable. 

leif,  250,  live. 

leir,  learn. 

lend  ye  till,  26,  lean  upon. 

len,  308,  lie  concealed. 

leuch,  laughed. 

leve,  147,  remain. 

lewche,  laughed. 

ley,  lea. 

lichtit,  lighted. 

lichtly,  undervalue. 

lie,  lonely,  sad. 

liggit,  lain. 

lighters,  blinders. 

liltin,  singing. 

lirk  hollow  (of  a  hill). 

lodomy,  laudanum. 

long  of,  211,  an  account  of. 

looing,  loving. 

loot,  let. 

lore,  149,  doctrine. 

loup,  leap. 

lourd,  liefer,  rather. 

loutit,  bowed. 

lown,  loon,  worthless  fellow. 

lowse,  loose. 

lue,  love:  lude,  246,  laved. 

maining,  moaning,  crying. 


GLOSSARY. 


343 


manchet,  the  fnest  kind  of 
white  bread. 

mane,  moan. 

marrit,  246,  marred,  disorder 
ed. 

marys,  maids. 

maugre,  247,  ill-will,  blame. 

maun,  must. 

may,  maid. 

meen,  moon ;  meen  -  licht, 
moon-light. 

menji,  81,  many;  menyie, 
company  of  followers. 

min,  mother. 

mot,  may,  might. 

mouls,  dust  of  the  dead, 

muckle,  big,  much. 

mude,  mood,  mind. 

murnit,  mourned. 

nae,  not. 

neirhand,  nearly. 
niest,  next. 
nocht,  nought. 

och,  ochanie,  interjections  of 

grief. 

odd,  281,  old. 
oo,  one. 
ower  great,  too  familiar. 

pall,  rich  cloth. 

parand ;  heir  and  parand,  heir 

apparent. 
pat,  put. 
perde,  par  dieu. 
perfay,  parfoi. 
pine,  pain,  grief. 
pitten,  put. 


plow,  as  much  land  as  can 
properly  be  tilled  by  one 
plough  in  a  day. 

prest,  204,  ready. 

previe,  secret. 

put  down,  117,  hung. 

pyne,  pain. 


quhair,  &c.,  where,  $ 
quhair,  every  where. 
quhill,  249,  until. 


all 


raik  on  raw,  246,  range  or  ex 
tend  themselves  in  a  row. 

ramp,  rude,  wild,  violent. 

ran  tin',  boisterously  gay,  rol 
licking. 

rattous,  rats. 

recorde,  witness. 

red,  advice,  plan. 

redding-comb,  comb  for  red 

ding,  or  combing  out,  the  hair 

rede,  reid,  advise. 

reivis,  deprivest  of. 

remeve,  155,  remove  or  trouble. 

repreve,  reprove. 

rescous,  rescue. 

rew,  take  pity. 

rigs,  ridges. 

roiss,  rest. 

rove,  roof. 

row,  roll;  row'd,  rolled. 

royal  bane,  12,  the  same  as 
ruel  bone,  an  unknown  ma 
terial  often  mentioned  in  ro 
mances. 

rude,  rood,  cross. 

rue,  take  pity;  ruthQ,pity. 


344 


GLOSSARY. 


sanna,  sltall  not. 

sark,  shirt. 

scant,  lessen. 

scheel,  school 

schent,  shamed,  disgraced. 

see,  protect. 

sen,  since. 

sendall,  a  rich  thin  silk. 

sets,  105,  sits,  jits. 

shaw,  thicket,-wood. 

shealin,  66,  shed  for  sheep. 

she'as,  sheaths. 

sheave,  slice. 

sheens,  shines. 

she'st,  she  shall. 

shill,  59,  shrill. 

shun,  soon. 

sic,  siccan,  such. 

sicht,  sigh  ;  si  chit,  sighed. 

sickerly,  certainly. 

silly,  simple. 

sith,  since. 

skill  of  their  train,  understand 

their  training. 
slap,  96,  a  breach  in  a  wall  or 

hedge. 

speer'd,  speir'd,  asked. 
spell;  drift  can  spell,  267,  tell 

my  meaning  or  story. 
splene,  on  the,  156  ? 
spring,  65,  youth,  young. 
sta',  stole. 

states,  169,  people  of  high  rank. 
staw,  stole. 
staws,  stalls. 
steir,  stir. 
stey,  steep. 
stown,  stolen. 
streek'd,  stroaked. 


suspitiou*  ,     "  significant."  — 

Ritson. 

swither,  waver. 
syne,  then. 

tane,  taken. 

tapp'd,  topped. 

tent,  heed. 

Termagant,  an  imaginary 
false  god  of  the  heathen. 

thair,  there. 

than,  then. 

thinking  long,  see  thought 
lang. 

thir,  these. 

this,  thus. 

thoo,  those. 

thought,  147,  trouble. 

thought  lang,  felt  the  time 
hang  heavily,  felt  ennui. 

thoust,  thou  wilt. 

till,  to,  for;  245,  to;  till  assail 
248,  to  assail;  till  half,  249, 
to  have. 

tirled  at  the  pin,  trilled,  or 
rattled,  at  the  door-pin,  or 
latch,  to  obtain  entrance. 

tocher,  dowry. 

tod,  fox. 

tomorne,  to-morrow. 

ton,  one  (after  the"). 

tree,  3, 253,  stick,  pole,  or  per 
haps,  whipple-tree ;  276,  staff. 

trew,  trow. 

trinkling,  trickling. 

trow,  believe. 

twalt,  twelfth. 

twinn,  part. 

tyne,  lose. 


GLOSSARY. 


345 


unco,  strange,  foreign. 
upricht,  253,  straightway  ? 

wae,  sad. 

waged,  staked. 

wait,  wot,  know. 

waith,  wandering. 

wald,  would. 

wale,  choice. 

wall-  wight,306,  picked  ( waled ) 
strong  men,  or  warriors. 

waly,  an  interjection  of  lamen 
tation. 

wanrufe,  246,  disquietude. 

wan  up,  got  up. 

wat,  wot,  know. 

waur,  worse. 

wee,  269,  short  time. 

weed,  clothes. 

weel,  well. 

weel-busket,  well  trimmed. 

weel-far'd,  weel-faurd,  loett- 
favored. 

wend,  280,  weened. 

werry,  248,  weary,  sorrowful. 


whae's  aught,  who  is  it  owns. 

whingers,  "  a  short  hanger, 
used  as  a  knife  at  meals  and 
as  a  sword  in  broils.'11 

wight,  strong  or  nimble. 

win,  get,  go ;  win  to,  attain  or 
get  to ;  win  up,  get  up. 

win,  to  make  the  harvest. 

winna,  will  not. 

winsome,  pleasant. 

wisna,  know  not. 

worldling,  230,  pet  ? 

wow,  exclamation  of  admira 
tion,  or  surprise. 

wreuch,  wretched. 

yede,  went. 

yef,  if- 

ye'se,  ye  shall. 

yestreen,  yesterday. 

yett,  gate. 

ying,  young. 

your  lane,  alone  by  yourself. 

ze,  ye.