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The Oxford Book of Ballads

[Pg ii] [Pg iii]

The
Oxford Book of
Ballads

Chosen & Edited by
Arthur Quiller-Couch

Oxford
At the Clarendon Press

PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN

TO
THE ONE SURVIVOR
OF THREE MEN
TO WHOM ALL LOVERS OF THE BALLAD
OWE MOST IN THESE TIMES
FRANCIS JAMES CHILD FREDERICK JAMES FURNIVALL
AND
JOHN WESLEY HALES

[Pg vi] [Pg vii]

PREFACE

As in The Oxford Book of English Verse I tried to range over the whole field of the English Lyric, and to choose the best, so in this volume I have sought to bring together the best Ballads out of the whole of our national stock. But the method, order, balance of the two books are different perforce, as the fates of the Lyric and the Ballad have been diverse. While the Lyric in general, still making for variety, is to-day more prolific than ever and (all cant apart) promises fruit to equal the best, that particular offshoot which we call the Ballad has been dead, or as good as dead, for two hundred years. It would seem to have discovered, almost at the start, a very precise Platonic pattern of what its best should be; and having exhausted itself in reproducing that, it declined (through a crab-apple stage of Broadsides) into sterility. Therefore this anthology cannot be brought down to the present day, and therefore the first half of it contains far finer poetry than the second.

But it may be objected that among Ballads no such thing as chronological order is possible; and that, if it were, I have not attempted it. ‘Why then did I not boldly mix up all my flowers in a heap and afterwards sit down to re-arrange them, disregarding history, studious only that one flower should set off another and the whole wreath be a well-balanced circle?’ I will try to answer this, premising only that tact is nine-tenths of the anthologist’s business. It is very true that the Ballads have no chronology: that no one can say when Hynd Horn was composed, or assert with proof that Clerk Saunders is younger than Childe Maurice or Tam Lin older than Sir Patrick Spens, though that all five are older than The Children in the Wood no one with an ounce of literary sense would deny. Even of our few certainties we have to remember that, where almost everything depends on oral tradition, it may easily happen—in fact happens not seldom—that a really old ballad ‘of the best period’ has reached us late and in a corrupted form, its original gold overlaid with silver and bronze. It is true, moreover, that these pages, declining an impossible order, decline also the pretence to it. I have arranged the ballads in seven books: of which the first deals with Magic, the ‘Seely Court’, and the supernatural; the second (and on the whole the most beautiful) with stories of absolute romance such as Childe Waters, Lord Ingram, Young Andrew; the third with romance shading off into real history, as in Sir Patrick Spens, Hugh of Lincoln, The Queen’s Marie; the fourth with Early Carols and ballads of Holy Writ. This closes Part I. The fifth book is all of the Greenwood and Robin Hood; the sixth follows history down from Chevy Chase and the Homeric deeds of Douglas and Percy to less renowned if not less spirited Border feuds; while the seventh and last book presents the Ballad in various aspects of false beginning and decline—The Old Cloak, which deserved a long line of children but in fact has had few; Barbara Allen, late but exquisite; Lord Lovel, which is silly sooth; and The Suffolk Tragedy, wherein a magnificent ballad-theme is ambled to market like so much butter. My hope is that this arrangement, while it avoids mixing up things that differ and keeps consorted those (the Robin Hood Ballads for example) which naturally go together, does ‘in round numbers’ give a view of the Ballad in its perfection and decline, and that so my book may be useful to the student as well as to the disinterested lover of poetry for whom it is chiefly intended.

This brings me to the matter of text. To make a ‘scientific’ anthology of the Ballads was out of the question. In so far as scientific treatment could be brought to them the work had been done, for many generations to come, if not finally, by the late Professor Child[1] in his monumental edition, to which at every turn I have been indebted for guidance back to the originals. Child’s method was to get hold of every ballad in every extant version, good, bad, or indifferent, and to print these versions side by side, with a foreword on the ballad’s history, packed with every illustration that could be contributed out of his immense knowledge of the folk-poetry of every race and country. His work, as I say, left no room for follower or imitator; but fortunately it lies almost as wide of my purpose as of my learning. My reader did not require Sir Patrick Spens or May Colvin in a dozen or twenty versions: he wanted one ballad, one Sir Patrick Spens, one May Colvin, and that the best. How could I give him the best in my power?

There is only one way. It was Scott’s way, and the way of William Allingham, who has been at pains to define it in the preface to his Ballad Book (Macmillan):—

The various oral versions of a popular ballad obtainable throughout England, Scotland, and Ireland, are perhaps, even at this late day,[2] practically innumerable—one as ‘authentic’ as another. What then to do?... The right course has appeared to be this, to make oneself acquainted with all attainable versions of a ballad. Then (granting a ‘turn’ for such things, to begin; without which all were labour in vain) the editor may be supposed to get as much insight as may be into the origin and character of the ballad in question; he sees or surmises more or less as to the earliest version or versions, as to blunders, corruptions, alterations of every sort (national, local, personal) on the part of the reciters; he then comes to investigate the doings of former editors, adopting thankfully what he finds good, correcting at points whereupon he has attained better information, rejecting (when for the worse) acknowledged or obvious interpolations or changes. He has to give it in one form—the best according to his judgement and feeling—in firm black and white, for critics, and for readers cultivated and simple.

This fairly describes Scott’s method as well as Allingham’s own. But while I must claim along with them ‘a “turn” for such things’ (the claim is implicit in my attempt), these two men were poets, and could dare more boldly than I to rewrite a faulty stanza or to supply a missing one. Of this ticklish license I have been extremely chary, and have used it with the double precaution (1) of employing, so far as might be, words and phrases found elsewhere in the text of the ballad, and (2) of printing these experiments in square brackets,[3] that the reader may not be misled. Maybe I should have resisted the temptation altogether but for the necessity—in a work intended for all sorts of readers, young and old—of removing or reducing here and there in these eight hundred and sixty-five pages a coarse or a brutal phrase. To those who deny the necessity I will only answer that while no literature in the world exercises a stronger or on the whole a saner fascination upon imaginative youth than do these ballads, it seems to me wiser to omit a stanza from Glasgerion, for example, or to modify a line in Young Hunting, than to withhold these beautiful things altogether from boy or maid.

Before leaving this subject of texts and their handling, I must express my thanks for the permission given me to make free use of the text of the Percy Folio MS., edited by Professors Hales and Furnivall some forty years ago. This was of course indispensable. In the history of our ballad-literature the Reliques themselves are, if something more of a landmark, much less of a trophy than the three famous volumes so romantically achieved by Professor Child and their two editors, whose labour has been scarcely more honourable than their liberality which has ever laid its results open to men’s benefit. Mr. Child died in 1896; Mr. Furnivall a few months ago. To Mr. Hales, survivor of the famous three, I owe the permission given with a courtesy which set a fresh value on what was already beyond value. I must also thank the Rev. Sabine Baring-Gould for leave to include The Brown Girl and other ballads from his Songs of the West and A Garland of Country Song (Methuen). It were idle to quote all the scholars—Ritson, Herd, Scott, Jamieson and the rest—to whose labours every ballad-editor must be indebted: but among younger men I wish to thank Mr. F. Sidgwick, whose method in his two volumes of Ballads (Bullen) I can admire the more unreservedly because it differs from mine.

I hope, at any rate, that in presenting each ballad as one, and reconstructing it sometimes from many versions, I have kept pretty constantly to the idea, of which Professor Ker[4] says—‘The truth is that the Ballad is an Idea, a Poetical Form, which can take up any matter, and does not leave that matter as it was before.’ If the reader interrogate me concerning this Idea of the Ballad, as Mr. Pecksniff demanded of Mrs. Todgers her Notion of a Wooden Leg, Professor Ker has my answer prepared:—

In spite of Socrates and his logic we may venture to say, in answer to the question ‘What is a ballad?’—‘A Ballad is The Milldams of Binnorie and Sir Patrick Spens and The Douglas Tragedy and Lord Randal and Childe Maurice, and things of that sort.’

There the reader has it, without need of the definition or of the historical account which this Preface must not attempt. Its author, no doubt, is destined to consign, some day, and ‘come to dust’ with more learned editors: but meanwhile, if one ask ‘What is a Ballad?’—I answer, It is these things; and it is

About the dead hour o’ the night She heard the bridles ring.

(Tam Lin)

and

But this ladye is gone to her chamber, Her maydens following bright.

(Sir Cawline)

It is

‘O we were sisters, sisters seven; We were the fairest under heaven.’

(Cospatrick)

and

‘I see no harm by you, Margaret, Nor you see none by me.’

(Fair Margaret and Sweet William)

and

In somer, when the shawes be sheyne, And leves be large and long.

(Robin Hood and the Monk)

and

O there was horsing, horsing in haste, And cracking of whips out owre the lee.

(Archie of Cawfield)

It is even

And there did he see brave Captain Ogilvie A-training of his men on the green.

(The Duke of Gordon’s Daughter)

Like the Clown in Twelfth Night, it can sing both high and low: but the note is unmistakable whether it sing high:

O cocks are crowing on merry middle-earth; I wot the wild fowls are boding day.

(Clerk Saunders)

Half-owre, half-owre to Aberdour, ’Tis fifty fathoms deep; And there lies gude Sir Patrick Spens, Wi’ the Scots lords at his feet!

(Sir Patrick Spens)

‘O Earl Bran’, I see your heart’s bloud!’— Ay lally, o lilly lally ‘It’s na but the glent o’ my scarlet hood’ All i’ the night sae early.

(Earl Brand)

or low

Then up bespake the bride’s mother— She never was heard to speak so free: ‘Ye’ll not forsake my only daughter, Though Susie Pye has cross’d the sea.’

(Young Beichan)

‘An’ thu sall marry a proud gunner, An’ a proud gunner I’m sure he’ll be.’

(The Great Silkie of Sule Skerrie)

Rise up, rise up, brother Dives, And go with us to see A dismal place, prepared in hell, To sit on a serpent’s knee.

(Dives and Lazarus)

or, merely flat and pedestrian:

There was slayne upon the English part For sooth as I you say, Of ninè thousand English men Five hundred came away.

(Otterburn)

But it is always unmistakable and like no other thing in poetry; in proof of which let me offer one simple, practical test. If any man ever steeped himself in balladry, that man was Scott, and once or twice, as in Proud Maisie and Brignall Banks, he came near to distil the essence. If any man, taking the Ballad for his model, has ever sublimated its feeling and language in a poem

seraphically free From taint of personality,

that man was Coleridge and that poem his Ancient Mariner. If any poet now alive can be called a ballad-writer of genius, it is the author of Danny Deever and East and West. But let the reader suppose a fascicule of such poems bound up with the present collection, and he will perceive that I could have gone no straighter way to destroy the singularity of the book.

In claiming this singularity for the Ballad I do not seek to exalt it above any other lyrical form. Rather I am ready to admit, out of some experience in anthologizing, that when a ballad is set in a collection alongside the best of Herrick, Gray, Landor, Browning—to name four poets opposite as the poles and to say nothing of such masterwork as Spenser’s Epithalamion or Milton’s Lycidas—it is the ballad that not only suffers by the apposition but suffers to a surprising degree; so that I have sometimes been forced to reconsider my affection, and ask ‘Are these ballads really beautiful as they have always appeared to me?’ In truth (as I take it) the contrast is unfair to them, much as any contrast between children and grown folk would be unfair. They appealed to something young in the national mind, and the young still ramp through Percy’s Reliques—as I hope they will through this book—‘trailing clouds of glory,’ following the note in Elmond’s wood—

May Margaret sits in her bower door Sewing her silken seam; She heard a note in Elmond’s wood, And wish’d she there had been.

She loot the seam fa’ frae her side, The needle to her tae, And she is on to Elmond’s wood As fast as she could gae.

A. Q. C.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] A smaller edition of ‘Child’, excellently planned, by Helen Child Sargent and George Lyman Kittridge, is published in England by Mr. Nutt.

[2] 1864.

[3] This does not hold of small transpositions, elisions of superfluous words, or corrections of spelling. In these matters I have allowed myself a free hand.

[4] On the History of the Ballads, 1100-1500, by W. P. Ker, Proceedings of the British Academy, vol. iv.

CONTENTS

 

PART I

   

BOOK I

 

NO. 

PAGE

1. 

Thomas the Rhymer

1

2. 

Tam Lin

4

3. 

Sir Cawline

14

4. 

Sir Aldingar

20

5. 

Cospatrick

29

6. 

Willy’s Lady

36

7. 

The Queen of Elfland’s Nourice

41

8. 

Lady Isabel and the Elf-Knight

43

9. 

The Riddling Knight

46

10. 

May Colvin

47

11. 

The Wee Wee Man

51

12. 

Alison Gross

52

13. 

Kemp Owyne

55

14. 

The Laily Worm

59

15. 

King Orfeo

62

16. 

King Henry

64

17. 

The Boy and the Mantle

68

18. 

King Arthur and King Cornwall

75

19. 

The Marriage of Sir Gawain

88

20. 

Bonnie Annie

98

21. 

Brown Robyn’s Confession

100

22. 

The Cruel Mother

102

23. 

Binnorie

104

24. 

The Broomfield Hill

107

25. 

Earl Mar’s Daughter

110

26. 

Proud Lady Margaret

116

27. 

Clerk Saunders

118

28. 

The Daemon Lover

123

29. 

Clerk Colven

126

30. 

Young Hunting

129

31. 

The Great Silkie of Sule Skerrie

135

32. 

The Wife of Usher’s Well

136

33. 

A Lyke-Wake Dirge

138

34. 

The Unquiet Grave

140

 

BOOK II

 

35. 

Hynd Horn

142

36. 

Hynd Etin

145

37. 

Erlinton

153

38. 

Earl Brand

157

39. 

The Douglas Tragedy

160

40. 

Glasgerion

163

41. 

King Estmere

167

42. 

Fair Annie

179

43. 

The Lass of Lochroyan

184

44. 

Young Bekie

193

45. 

Young Beichan

199

46. 

Childe Waters

205

47. 

Childe Maurice

214

48. 

Brown Adam

221

49. 

Jellon Grame

223

50. 

Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard

227

51. 

Lord Ingram and Childe Vyet

232

52. 

Fair Janet

237

53. 

Old Robin of Portingale

242

54. 

Lord Thomas and Fair Annet

247

55. 

Rose the Red and White Lily

253

56. 

Leesome Brand

262

57. 

Babylon

265

58. 

Prince Robert

267

59. 

Young Andrew

270

60. 

The Gay Goshawk

275

61. 

Willie’s Lyke-Wake

280

62. 

Fair Margaret and Sweet William

281

63. 

The Twa Brothers

284

64. 

The Cruel Brother

287

65. 

Edward, Edward

290

66. 

Lord Randal

292

67. 

The Twa Corbies

293

68. 

The Three Ravens

294

 

BOOK III

 

69. 

The Nut-Brown Maid

295

70. 

Fause Foodrage

308

71. 

The Fair Flower of Northumberland

314

72. 

Young John

318

73. 

Lady Maisry

320

74. 

Bonny Bee Ho’m

326

75. 

Sir Patrick Spens

328

76. 

The Lord of Lorn

332

77. 

Edom o’ Gordon

342

78. 

Lamkin

348

79. 

Hugh of Lincoln

353

80. 

The Heir of Linne

356

81. 

Fair Mary of Wallington

361

82. 

Young Waters

367

83. 

The Queen’s Marie

369

84. 

The Outlaw Murray

374

85. 

Glenlogie

386

86. 

Lady Elspat

388

87. 

Jamie Douglas

390

88. 

Katharine Johnstone

395

89. 

Johnie Armstrong

398

90. 

Clyde Water

404

91. 

Young Benjie

409

92. 

Annan Water

413

93. 

Rare Willie Drowned in Yarrow

416

94. 

The Duke of Gordon’s Daughter

417

95. 

The Bonny Earl of Murray

422

96. 

Bonny George Campbell

423

 

BOOK IV

 

97. 

Judas

425

98. 

St. Stephen and King Herod

426

99. 

The Maid and the Palmer

428

100. 

The Falcon

430

101. 

The Cherry-Tree Carol

431

102. 

The Carnal and the Crane

434

103. 

Jolly Wat

439

104. 

I Saw Three Ships

442

105. 

The Twelve Good Joys

443

106. 

The Angel Gabriel

446

107. 

The Three Kings

448

108. 

The Innocents

451

109. 

Dives and Lazarus

455

110. 

The Holy Well

458

111. 

The Seven Virgins

460

 

PART II

   

BOOK V

 

112. 

Robyn and Gandelyn

462

113. 

The Birth of Robin Hood

465

114. 

Adam Bell, Clym of the Clough, and William of Clondesley

468

115. 

A Little Geste of Robin Hood and his Meiny

497

116. 

Robin Hood and Guy of Gisborne

575

117. 

Robin Hood and the Monk

585

118. 

Robin Hood and the Curtal Friar

600

119. 

Robin Hood and the Butcher

607

120. 

Robin Hood and the Bishop of Hereford

612

121. 

Robin Hood and Alan a Dale

616

122. 

Robin Hood and the Widow’s Three Sons

621

123. 

Robin Hood’s Golden Prize

626

124. 

The Noble Fisherman

630

125. 

The Death of Robin Hood

635

 

BOOK VI

 

126. 

Durham Field

640

127. 

The Battle of Otterburn

651

128. 

Chevy Chase

664

129. 

Northumberland Betrayed by Douglas

675

130. 

Sir Andrew Barton

684

131. 

The ‘George Aloe’

697

132. 

The ‘Golden Vanity’

701

133. 

John Dory

703

134. 

Willie Macintosh

704

135. 

The Bonnie House o’ Airlie

705

136. 

Johnnie of Cockerslee

707

137. 

Kinmont Willie

712

138. 

Jock o’ the Side

720

139. 

Hobbie Noble

726

140. 

Archie of Cawfield

732

141. 

Jamie Telfer in the Fair Dodhead

738

142. 

Dick o’ the Cow

746

143. 

Hughie the Graeme

757

144. 

The Lochmaben Harper

759

145. 

The Fire of Frendraught

763

146. 

The Death of Parcy Reed

767

147. 

Baby Livingston

774

148. 

The Gypsy Countess

781

149. 

The Baron of Brackley

783

150. 

The Dowie Houms of Yarrow

786

151. 

Lord Maxwell’s Last Goodnight

789

152. 

Helen of Kirconnell

792

153. 

The Lament of the Border Widow

793

 

BOOK VII

 

154. 

Lady Alice

795

155. 

Lord Lovel

796

156. 

The Trees so High

798

157. 

The Brown Girl

800

158. 

Barbara Allen’s Cruelty

802

159. 

The Gardener

804

160. 

The Lowlands o’ Holland

806

161. 

The Spanish Lady’s Love

807

162. 

The Bailiff’s Daughter of Islington

811

163. 

The Blind Beggar’s Daughter of Bednall-Green

813

164. 

The Loving Ballad of Lord Bateman

825

165. 

Mary Ambree

829

166. 

The Lady turned Serving-Man

832

167. 

The Simple Ploughboy

837

168. 

Cawsand Bay

839

169. 

The Greenland Fishery

841

170. 

The Old Cloak

843

171. 

Widdicombe Fair

845

172. 

Get Up and Bar the Door

847

173. 

King John and the Abbot of Canterbury

849

174. 

The Children in the Wood

854

175. 

The Suffolk Miracle

860

176. 

Bessie Bell and Mary Gray

865

  Index of First Lines

867

Certainly, I must confesse my own barbarousnes, I neuer heard the olde song of Percy and Duglas that I found not my heart mooued more then with a Trumpet.

Sir Philip Sidney.

PART I

BOOK I

1. Thomas the Rhymer

I

True Thomas lay on Huntlie bank; A ferlie[5] he spied wi’ his e’e; And there he saw a ladye bright Come riding down by the Eildon Tree.

II

Her skirt was o’ the grass-green silk, Her mantle o’ the velvet fyne; At ilka tett[6] o’ her horse’s mane Hung fifty siller bells and nine.

III

True Thomas he pu’d aff his cap, And louted low down on his knee: ‘Hail to thee, Mary, Queen of Heaven! For thy peer on earth could never be.’

IV

‘O no, O no, Thomas,’ she said, ‘That name does not belang to me; I’m but the Queen o’ fair Elfland, That am hither come to visit thee.

V

‘Harp and carp[7], Thomas,’ she said; ‘Harp and carp along wi’ me; And if ye dare to kiss my lips, Sure of your bodie I will be.’

VI

‘Betide me weal, betide me woe, That weird[8] shall never daunten me.’ Syne he has kiss’d her rosy lips, All underneath the Eildon Tree.

VII

‘Now ye maun go wi’ me,’ she said, ‘True Thomas, ye maun go wi’ me; And ye maun serve me seven years, Thro’ weal or woe as may chance to be.’

VIII

She’s mounted on her milk-white steed, She’s ta’en true Thomas up behind; And aye, whene’er her bridle rang, The steed gaed swifter than the wind.

IX

O they rade on, and farther on, The steed gaed swifter than the wind; Until they reach’d a desert wide, And living land was left behind.

X

‘Light down, light down now, true Thomas, And lean your head upon my knee; Abide ye there a little space, And I will show you ferlies three.

XI

‘O see ye not yon narrow road, So thick beset wi’ thorns and briers? That is the Path of Righteousness, Though after it but few inquires.

XII

‘And see ye not yon braid, braid road, That lies across the lily leven[9]? That is the Path of Wickedness, Though some call it the Road to Heaven.

XIII

‘And see ye not yon bonny road That winds about the fernie brae? That is the Road to fair Elfland, Where thou and I this night maun gae.

XIV

‘But, Thomas, ye sall haud your tongue, Whatever ye may hear or see; For speak ye word in Elflyn-land, Ye’ll ne’er win back to your ain countrie.’

XV

O they rade on, and farther on, And they waded rivers abune the knee; And they saw neither sun nor moon, But they heard the roaring of the sea.

XVI

It was mirk, mirk night, there was nae starlight, They waded thro’ red blude to the knee; For a’ the blude that’s shed on the earth Rins through the springs o’ that countrie.

XVII

Syne they came to a garden green, And she pu’d an apple frae a tree: ‘Take this for thy wages, true Thomas; It will give thee the tongue that can never lee.’

XVIII

‘My tongue is my ain,’ true Thomas he said; ‘A gudely gift ye wad gie to me! I neither dought[10] to buy or sell At fair or tryst where I might be.

XIX

‘I dought neither speak to prince or peer, Nor ask of grace from fair ladye!’— ‘Now haud thy peace, Thomas,’ she said, ‘For as I say, so must it be.’

XX

He has gotten a coat of the even cloth[11], And a pair o’ shoon of the velvet green; And till seven years were gane and past, True Thomas on earth was never seen.

FOOTNOTES:

[5] ferlie = marvel.

[6] tett = tuft.

[7] harp and carp = play and recite (as a minstrel).

[8] weird = doom.

[9] leven =? lawn.

[10] dought = could.

[11] even cloth = smooth cloth.

2. Tam Lin

I

‘O I forbid you, maidens a’, That wear gowd on your hair, To come or gae by Carterhaugh, For young Tam Lin is there.

II

‘For even about that knight’s middle O’ siller bells are nine; And nae maid comes to Carterhaugh And a maid returns again.’

III

Fair Janet sat in her bonny bower, Sewing her silken seam, And wish’d to be in Carterhaugh Amang the leaves sae green.

IV

She’s lat her seam fa’ to her feet, The needle to her tae[12], And she’s awa’ to Carterhaugh As fast as she could gae.

V

And she has kilted her green kirtle A little abune her knee; And she has braided her yellow hair A little abune her bree[13]; And she has gaen for Carterhaugh As fast as she can hie.

VI

She hadna pu’d a rose, a rose, A rose but barely ane, When up and started young Tam Lin; Says, ‘Ladye, let alane.

VII

‘What gars ye pu’ the rose, Janet? What gars ye break the tree? What gars ye come to Carterhaugh Without the leave o’ me?’

VIII

‘Weel may I pu’ the rose,’ she says, ‘And ask no leave at thee; For Carterhaugh it is my ain, My daddy gave it me.’

IX

He’s ta’en her by the milk-white hand, And by the grass-green sleeve, He’s led her to the fairy ground At her he ask’d nae leave.

X

Janet has kilted her green kirtle A little abune her knee, And she has snooded her yellow hair A little abune her bree, And she is to her father’s ha’ As fast as she can hie.

XI

But when she came to her father’s ha’, She look’d sae wan and pale, They thought the lady had gotten a fright, Or with sickness she did ail.

XII

Four and twenty ladies fair Were playing at the ba’, And out then came fair Janet Ance the flower amang them a’.

XIII

Four and twenty ladies fair Were playing at the chess, And out then came fair Janet As green as onie glass.

XIV

Out then spak’ an auld grey knight ’Lay owre the Castle wa’, And says, ‘Alas, fair Janet! For thee we’ll be blamèd a’.’

XV

‘Hauld your tongue, ye auld-faced knight, Some ill death may ye die! Father my bairn on whom I will, I’ll father nane on thee.

XVI

‘O if my love were an earthly knight, As he is an elfin gay, I wadna gie my ain true-love For nae laird that ye hae.

XVII

‘The steed that my true-love rides on Is fleeter nor the wind; Wi’ siller he is shod before, Wi’ burning gold behind.’

XVIII

Out then spak’ her brither dear— He meant to do her harm: ‘There grows an herb in Carterhaugh Will twine[14] you an’ the bairn.’

XIX

Janet has kilted her green kirtle A little abune her knee, And she has snooded her yellow hair A little abune her bree, And she’s awa’ to Carterhaugh As fast as she can hie.

XX

She hadna pu’d a leaf, a leaf, A leaf but only twae, When up and started young Tam Lin, Says, ‘Ladye, thou’s pu’ nae mae.

XXI

‘How dar’ ye pu’ a leaf?’ he says, ‘How dar’ ye break the tree? How dar’ ye scathe[15] my babe,’ he says, ‘That’s between you and me?’

XXII

‘O tell me, tell me, Tam,’ she says, ‘For His sake that died on tree, If ye were ever in holy chapel Or sain’d[16] in Christentie?’

XXIII

‘The truth I’ll tell to thee, Janet, Ae word I winna lee; A knight me got, and a lady me bore, As well as they did thee.

XXIV

‘Roxburgh he was my grandfather, Took me with him to bide; And ance it fell upon a day, As hunting I did ride,

XXV

‘There came a wind out o’ the north, A sharp wind an’ a snell[17], A dead sleep it came over me And frae my horse I fell; And the Queen o’ Fairies she took me In yon green hill to dwell.

XXVI

‘And pleasant is the fairy land For those that in it dwell, But ay at end of seven years They pay a teind[18] to hell; I am sae fair and fu’ o’ flesh I’m fear’d ’twill be mysell.

XXVII

‘But the night is Hallowe’en, Janet, The morn is Hallowday; Then win me, win me, an ye will, For weel I wat ye may.

XXVIII

‘The night it is gude Hallowe’en, The fairy folk do ride, And they that wad their true-love win, At Miles Cross they maun bide.’—

XXIX

‘But how should I you ken, Tam Lin, How should I borrow[19] you, Amang a pack of uncouth[20] knights The like I never saw?’—

XXX

‘You’ll do you down to Miles Cross Between twel’ hours and ane, And fill your hands o’ the holy water And cast your compass roun’.

XXXI

‘The first company that passes by, Say na, and let them gae; The neist company that passes by, Say na, and do right sae; The third company that passes by, Then I’ll be ane o’ thae.

XXXII

‘O first let pass the black, ladye, And syne let pass the brown; But quickly run to the milk-white steed, Pu’ ye his rider down.

XXXIII

‘For some ride on the black, ladye, And some ride on the brown; But I ride on a milk-white steed, A gowd star on my crown: Because I was an earthly knight They gie me that renown.

XXXIV

‘My right hand will be gloved, ladye, My left hand will be bare, And thae’s the tokens I gie thee: Nae doubt I will be there.

XXXV

‘Ye’ll tak’ my horse then by the head And let the bridle fa’; The Queen o’ Elfin she’ll cry out “True Tam Lin he’s awa’!”

XXXVI

‘They’ll turn me in your arms, ladye, An aske[21] but and a snake; But hauld me fast, let me na gae, To be your warldis make[22].

XXXVII

‘They’ll turn me in your arms, ladye, But and a deer so wild; But hauld me fast, let me na gae, The father o’ your child.

XXXVIII

‘They’ll shape me in your arms, ladye, A hot iron at the fire; But hauld me fast, let me na go, To be your heart’s desire.

XXXIX

‘They’ll shape me last in your arms, Janet, A mother-naked man; Cast your green mantle over me, And sae will I be won.’

XL

Janet has kilted her green kirtle A little abune the knee; And she has snooded her yellow hair A little abune her bree, And she is on to Miles Cross As fast as she can hie.

XLI

About the dead hour o’ the night She heard the bridles ring; And Janet was as glad at that As any earthly thing.

XLII

And first gaed by the black, black steed, And syne gaed by the brown; But fast she gript the milk-white steed And pu’d the rider down.

XLIII

She’s pu’d him frae the milk-white steed, An’ loot[23] the bridle fa’, And up there rase an eldritch[24] cry, ‘True Tam Lin he’s awa’!’

XLIV

They shaped him in her arms twa An aske but and a snake; But aye she grips and hau’ds him fast To be her warldis make.

XLV

They shaped him in her arms twa But and a deer sae wild; But aye she grips and hau’ds him fast, The father o’ her child.

XLVI

They shaped him in her arms twa A hot iron at the fire; But aye she grips and hau’ds him fast To be her heart’s desire.

XLVII

They shaped him in her arms at last A mother-naked man; She cast her mantle over him, And sae her love she wan.

XLVIII

Up then spak’ the Queen o’ Fairies, Out o’ a bush o’ broom, ‘She that has borrow’d young Tam Lin Has gotten a stately groom.’

XLIX

Out then spak’ the Queen o’ Fairies, And an angry woman was she, ‘She’s ta’en awa’ the bonniest knight In a’ my companie!

L

‘But what I ken this night, Tam Lin, Gin I had kent yestreen, I wad ta’en out thy heart o’ flesh, And put in a heart o’ stane.

LI

‘And adieu, Tam Lin! But gin I had kent A ladye wad borrow’d thee, I wad ta’en out thy twa grey e’en Put in twa e’en o’ tree[25].

LII

‘And had I the wit yestreen, yestreen, That I have coft[26] this day, I’d paid my teind seven times to hell Ere you had been won away!’

FOOTNOTES:

[12] tae = toe.

[13] bree = eye-brow.

[14] twine = part, sunder.

[15] scathe = harm.

[16] sain’d = blessed, baptised.

[17] snell = keen, cold.

[18] teind = tithe.

[19] borrow = ransom.

[20] uncouth = unknown.

[21] aske = newt, lizard.

[22] make = mate, husband.

[23] loot = let.

[24] eldritch = unearthly.

[25] tree = wood.

[26] coft = bought.

3. Sir Cawline

I

Jesus, Lord mickle of might, That dyed for us on roode, So maintaine us in all our right That loves true English blood!

II

Sir Cawline [was an English knight] Curteous and full hardye; [And our King has lent him] forth to fight, Into Ireland over the sea.

III

And in that land there dwells a King, Over all the bell does beare; And he hath a ladye to his daughter, Of fashion[27] she hath no peere; Knights and lordes they woo’d her both, Trusted to have been her feere[28].

IV

Sir Cawline loves her best of onie, But nothing durst he say To discreeve[29] his councell to no man, But dearlye loved this may[30].

V

Till it befell upon a day, Great dill[31] to him was dight[32]; The mayden’s love removed his mind, To care-bed[33] went the knight.

VI

One while he spread his armes him fro, And cryed so pittyouslye: ‘For the mayden’s love that I have most minde This day shall comfort mee, Or else ere noone I shall be dead!’ Thus can Sir Cawline say.

VII

When the parish mass that itt was done, And the King was bowne[34] to dine, Says, ‘Where is Sir Cawline, that was wont To serve me with ale and wine?’

VIII

But then answer’d a curteous knight Fast his hands wringìnge: ‘Sir Cawline’s sicke and like to be dead Without and a good leechìnge[35].’

IX

‘Feitch ye downe my daughter deere, She is a leeche full fine; Ay, and take you doe and the baken bread, And [drinke he of] the wine soe red, And looke no daynty’s for him too deare, For full loth I wo’ld him tine[36].’

X

This ladye is gone to his chamber, Her maydens following nye; ‘O well,’ she saith, ‘how doth my lord?’ ‘O sicke!’ againe saith hee.

XI

‘But rise up wightlye[37], man, for shame! Ne’er lie here soe cowardlye! Itt is told in my father’s hall For my love you will dye.’—

XII

‘Itt is for your love, fayre ladye, That all this dill I drie; For if you wo’ld comfort me with a kisse, Then were I brought from bale to bliss, No longer here wo’ld I lye.’—

XIII

‘Alas! soe well you know, Sir Knight, I cannot be your feere.’— ‘Yet some deeds of armes fain wo’ld I doe To be your bacheleere.’—

XIV

‘On Eldritch Hill there grows a thorn, Upon the mores[38] brodinge[39]; And wo’ld you, Sir Knight, wake there all night To day of the other morninge?

XV

‘For the Eldritch King, that is mickle of might, Will examine[40] you beforne[41]: There was never a man bare his life away Since the day that I was born.’—

XVI

‘But I will for your sake, ladye, Walk on the bents[42] soe browne, And I’ll either bring you a readye token, Or I’ll ne’er come to you again.’

XVII

But this ladye is gone to her chamber, Her maydens following bright; And Sir Cawline’s gone to the mores soe broad, For to wake there all night.

XVIII

Unto midnight that the moone did rise He walkèd up and downe, And a lightsome bugle then heard he blow Over the bents so browne; Sayes he, ‘And if cryance[43] come to my heart, I am farr from any good towne.’

XIX

And he spyèd, e’en a little him by, A furyous king and a fell, And a ladye bright his brydle led [More] seemlye [than onie can tell].

XX

Soe fast he call’d on Sir Cawline, ‘O man, I rede thee flye! For if cryance come untill thy heart I’m afeard lest thou maun dye!’—

XXI

He sayes, ‘No cryance comes to my heart, Nor i’faith I fear not thee; For because thou ming’d[44] not Christ before, The lesse me dreadeth thee.’

XXII

But Sir Cawline then he shooke a speare; The King was bold, and abode: And the timber those two children bare Soe soon in sunder slode[45]: Forth they tooke and two good swords, And they layden on good loade[46].

XXIII

The Eldritch King was mickle of might, And stiffly to the ground did stand; But Sir Cawline with an aukeward[47] stroke He brought from him his hand— Ay, and flying over his head so hye It fell down of that lay land[48].

XXIV

His ladye stood a little thereby, Fast her hands wringìnge: ‘For the mayden’s love that you have most minde, Smyte you noe more [this King].

XXV

‘And he’s never[49] come upon Eldritch Hill Him to sport, gammon or play, And to meet no man of middle-earth[50] That lives on Christ his lay[51].’

XXVI

But he then up, that Eldritch King, Set him in his sadle againe, And that Eldritch King and his ladye To their castle are they gone.

XXVII

Sir Cawline took up that eldritch sword As hard as any flynt, Soe did he [the hand with] ringès five Harder than fyer, and brent[52].

XXVIII

The watchmen cryed upon the walls And sayd, ‘Sir Cawline’s slaine!’ Then the King’s daughter she fell downe, ‘For peerlesse is my payne!’—

XXIX

‘O peace, my ladye!’ sayes Sir Cawline, ‘I have bought thy love full deare; O peace, my ladye!’ sayes Sir Cawline, ‘Peace, ladye, for I am heere!’

XXX

He’s presented to the King’s daughter The hand, and then the sword [And he has claimed the King’s daughter According to her word].

XXXI

And the King has betaken[53] him his broad lands And all his venison[54]; [Sayes] ‘Thou shalt have my daughter deare, [And be my onelye son’].

FOOTNOTES:

[27] fashion = form, beauty.

[28] feere = mate, consort.

[29] discreeve = discover.

[30] may = maid.

[31] dill = dole, grief.

[32] dight = ordained.

[33] care-bed = sick-bed.

[34] bowne = made ready, gone.

[35] without and, &c. = unless he have a good leech, or physician.

[36] tine = lose.

[37] wightlye = briskly, stoutly.

[38] mores = moors.

[39] brodinge = growing, sprouting.

[40] examine = put to the test.

[41] beforne = before (morning).

[42] bents = rough grasses.

[43] cryance = yielding, cowardice.

[44] ming’d = mentioned, spoke the name of.

[45] slode = split.

[46] good loade = heavily.

[47] aukeward = back-handed.

[48] lay land = lea, land not under cultivation; here = ground.

[49] he’s never = he will never.

[50] middle-earth = this earth, as midway between heaven and hell.

[51] lay = law, faith.

[52] brent = smooth.

[53] betaken = given, made over.

[54] venison = i. e. deer-forests.

4. Sir Aldingar

I

Our King he kept a false steward, Men call’d him Sir Aldingar; [He would have woo’d our comely Queene To be his paramour].

II

He would have woo’d our comely Queene, Her deere worship to betray: Our Queene she was a good woman And evermore said him nay.

III

Sir Aldingar was offended in ’s mind, With her he was ne’er content, But he sought what meanès he could find In a fyer to have her brent[55].

IV

There came a lame lazar to the King’s gate, A lazar ’was blind and lame; He took the lazar upon his backe, Upon the Queene’s bed did him lay.

V

Said, ‘Lye still, lazar, whereas thou lyest, Looke thou goe not away; I’le make thee a whole man and a sound In two howres of a day.’

VI

And then went forth Sir Aldingar Our Queene for to betray, And then he met with our comely King, Says, ‘God you save and see!

VII

‘If I had space, as I have grace, A message I’d say to thee.’— ‘Say on, say on, Sir Aldingar, Say thou on and unto me.’

VIII

‘I can shew you one of the grievous’t sights Ever Christian King did see; Our Queene hath chosen a new, new love, She will have none of thee.

IX

‘If she had chosen a right good knight, The lesse had beene her shame; But she hath chosen a lazar man Which is both blind and lame.’—

X

‘If this be true, Sir Aldingar, That thou dost tell to me, Then will I make thee a rich knight Both of gold and fee.

XI

‘But if it be false, Sir Aldingar, That thou dost tell to me, Then looke thou for no other death But to be hang’d on tree.’

XII

When the King came into the Queene’s chamber, Standing her bed before, ‘There’s a lodly[56] lome[57],’ says Harry the King For our dame Queene Elinor!

XIII

‘If thou were a man, as thou art none, It is here thou shouldest dye; But a paire of new gallowes shall be built, Thou’st hang on them soe hye.

XIV

‘And a fayre fyer there shall be bett[58], And brent our Queene shall been.’ Forth then walk’d our comely King, And met with our comely Queene.

XV

Saies, ‘God you save our Queene, Madam, And Christ you save and see! Here you have chosen a new, new love, And you will have none of mee.

XVI

‘If you had chosen a right good knight, The lesse had beene your shame; But you have chosen a lazar man That is both blind and lame.’

XVII

‘Ever alacke!’ said our comely Queene, ‘Sir Aldingar he is false; But ever alacke!’ said our comely Queene, ‘And woe is me, and alas!

XVIII

‘I had thought swevens[59] had never been true I have proved them true [today]: I dream’d in my swevens on Thursday at even In my bed wheras I lay,

XIX

‘I dreamèd a grype[60] and a grimlie beast Had carried my crowne away, My gorget and my kirtle of golde, And all my heade-geare [gay].

XX

‘He wo’ld have worryed me with his tush[61], And borne me into his nest, Saving there came a little hawke Flying out of the east.

XXI

‘—Saving there came a little hawke Which men call a merlion[62]; He stroke him downe untill the ground, That deade he did fall downe.

XXII

‘Gif I were a man, as I am none, A battell I wo’ld prove; I wo’ld fight with that false traitor; At him I cast my glove!

XXIII

‘Seeing I am able noe battell to make, You must grant me, my liege, a knight, To fight with that traitor, Sir Aldingar, To maintaine me in my right.’

XXIV

‘I’le give thee forty dayes,’ said our King, ‘To seeke thee a man therein; If thou find not a man in forty dayes, In a hott fyer thou shalt brenn.’

XXV

Our Queene sent forth a messenger; He rode fast into the south; He rode the countryes through and through Soe far unto Portsmouth.

XXVI

[But for all his riding ne’er sped he To fetch help to our Queene;] He co’ld find noe man in the south countrỳ ‘Wo’ld fight with the knight soe keene.

XXVII

The second messenger shee sent forth, Rode far into the east; But—blessèd be God ’made sunn and moone!— He sped then all of the best.

XXVIII

As he rode then by one river side, There he mett with a little Child; He seemèd noe more in a man’s likenesse Than a child of four yeeres old.

XXIX

He ask’d the messenger how far he rode; Loth he was him to tell; The little one was offended att him, Bade him adieu, farewell.

XXX

Said, ‘Turne thou againe, thou messenger, Greete our Queen well from me; When bale[63] is at hyest, boote[64] is at nyest— Helpe enough there may bee.

XXXI

‘Bid our Queene remember what she did dreame In her bedd wheras shee lay; She dreamèd the grype and the grimlie beast Had carryed her crowne away;

XXXII

‘Her gorgett and her kirtle of gold, Her head-geare [all soe drest] He wo’ld have worryed her with his tush, And borne her into his nest.

XXXIII

‘Saving there came a little hawke, Men call him a merlion; ‘Did strike him downe untill the ground That dead he did fall downe.

XXXIV

‘Bidd the Queene be merry att her heart, Evermore light and glad; When bale is at hyest, boote is at nyest, Helpe enough [shall be had’].

XXXV

Then the Queen’s messenger rode backe, A gladded man then was hee; When that he came before our Queene, A gladd woman then was shee.

XXXVI

She gave the messenger twenty pound, O Lord, in gold and fee; Saies, ‘Spend, nor spare while this doth last, Then fetch thou more of me.’

XXXVII

Our Queene was put in a tunne[65] to burn; She thought noe thing but death: When they were ware of the Little One ’Came ryding forth of the east.

XXXVIII

With a mu[le and a bridle all of bells] A lovelye child was hee; When that he came to that fyér He lighted the Queene full nigh.

XXXIX

Sayd, ‘Draw away these brands of fyer ’Lie burning before our Queene, And fetch me hither Sir Aldingar That is a knight soe keene.’

XL

When Aldingar saw that Little One, Full little of him hee thought; If there had been halfe a hundred such Of them he would not have wrought[66].

XLI

He sayd, ‘Come hither, Sir Aldingar, Thou seemest as big as a fooder[67]; I trust God ere I have done with thee God will send us an auger.’

XLII

Sayes, ‘The first stroke that’s given, Sir Aldingar, I will give unto thee; And if the second give thou may, Looke then thou spare not mee.’

XLIII

This Little One pull’d forth a well good sword, I wis it well all of gilte. It cast a light there over that field, It shone soe all of gilte.

XLIV

He stroke the first stroke at Aldingar; [Noe second needed hee; At the first stroke] he stroke away His leggs [all] by the knee.

XLV

Sayes, ‘Stand up, stand up, thou false traitor, And fight upon thy feete; For, an thou thrive as thou begins, Of a height we shall be meete[68].’

XLVI

‘A priest, a priest,’ sayes Aldingar, ‘Me for to housel and shrive! A priest, a priest,’ sayes Aldingar, ‘While I am a man living alive!

XLVII

‘I would have courted our comely Queene; To it shee wo’ld never consent; I thought to betray her to our King In a fyer to have her brent.

XLVIII

‘There came a lame lazar to the King’s gate, A lazar both blind and lame; I took the lazar upon my back, Upon the Queene’s bedd had him layn.

XLIX

‘I bade him, Lye still, lazar, where he lay, Looke he went not away; I wo’ld make him a whole man and a sound In two houres of a day.

L

‘A priest, a priest,’ sayes Aldingar, ‘To shrive me cleane of hell! Ever alacke!’ sayes Sir Aldingar, ‘Falsing never doth well.

LI

‘Forgive, forgive me, Queene, Madam! For Christ’s love forgive me!’— ‘God forgave his death, Aldingar, And freely I forgive thee.’—

LII

‘Now take thy wife, thou King Harry, And love her as thou sho’ld; Thy wife shee is as true to thee As stone lies in castle wall.’

LIII

The lazar under the gallow tree [Grew] a pretty man and small: The lazar under the gallow tree Was made steward in King Harry’s hall.

FOOTNOTES:

[55] brent = burnt.

[56] lodly = loathly.

[57] lome = thing.

[58] bett = kindled.

[59] swevens = dreams.

[60] grype = gryphon.

[61] tush = tusk, beak.

[62] merlion = merlin, a small falcon.

[63] bale = evil, trouble.

[64] boote = help, remedy.

[65] tunne = barrel.

[66] wrought = recked.

[67] fooder = tun.

[68] meete = matched, equal.

5. Cospatrick

I

Cospatrick has sent o’er the faem: Cospatrick brought his ladye hame.

II

Full seven score ships have come her wi’, The ladye by the grene-wood tree.

III

There was twal’ and twal’ wi’ baken bread, And twal’ and twal’ wi’ the goud sae red:

IV

And twal’ and twal’ wi’ beer and wine, And twal’ and twal’ wi’ muskadine:

V

And twal’ and twal’ wi’ bouted[69] flour, And twal’ and twal’ wi’ paramour[70].

VI

Sweet Willy was a Widow’s son, And at her stirrup he did run.

VII

And she was clad in the finest pall[71], But aye she let the tears down fall.

VIII

‘O lady, sits your saddle awry? Or is your steed for you owre high?

IX

‘Or are you mourning in your tide That you suld be Cospatrick’s bride?’

X

‘I am not mourning at this tide That I suld be Cospatrick’s bride:

XI

‘But I am mourning in my mood That ever I left my mother good.

XII

‘But, bonny boy, come tell to me What is the custom o’ your countrie?’

XIII

‘The custom thereof, my dame,’ he says, ‘Will ill a gentle ladye please.

XIV

‘Seven King’s daughters has our lord wedded, And seven King’s daughters has our lord bedded:

XV

‘But he’s cutted their breasts frae their breast-bane, And sent them mourning hame again.

XVI

‘But when you come to the palace yett[72], His mother a gowden chair will set:

XVII

‘And be you maid or be you nane, O sit you there till the day be dane.

XVIII

‘And gin you’re sure that you’re a maid, Ye may gae safely him to wed:

XIX

‘But gif o’ that ye be na sure, Then hire some damsel o’ your bour.’—

XX

O when she came to the palace yett, His mother a gowden chair did set:

XXI

The bonnie may was tired wi’ ridin’, Gae’d sit her down ere she was bidden.

XXII

And was she maid or was she nane, She sat in it till the day was dune.

XXIII

And she’s call’d on her bour-woman, That waiting was into[73] her train:

XXIV

‘Five thousand marks I’ll gie to thee, To sleep this night with my lord for me.’—

XXV

[‘But will it for my ladye plead, I’se be the bride in my ladye’s stead.’]—

XXVI

When bells were rung and mass was sayne, And a’ men unto bed were gane,

XXVII

Cospatrick and the bonny maid Into ae chamber they were laid.

XXVIII

‘Now speak to me, blankets, and speak to me, bed, And speak, thou sheet, inchanted web,

XXIX

‘And speak, my brown sword, that winna lee[74], Is this a leal maiden that lies by me?’

XXX

‘It is not a maid that you hae wedded, But it is a maid that you hae bedded:

XXXI

‘It is a leal maiden that lies by thee, But not the maiden that it should be.’

XXXII

Then out he sprang o’ his bridal bed, And wrathfully his claiths on did:

XXXIII

And he has ta’en him through the ha’, And on his mother he did ca’.

XXXIV

‘I am the most unhappy man That ever was in Christen land:

XXXV

‘I courted a maiden meik and mild, And I’ve gat but a woman great wi’ child.’—

XXXVI

‘O stay, my son, into this ha’, And sport ye wi’ your merry men a’.

XXXVII

‘And I’ll gang to your painted bour, To see how it fares wi’ your paramour.’

XXXVIII

The carline[75] queen was stark and strang She gar’d the door flee aff the ban[76].

XXXIX

‘O is your bairn to laird or loun[77], Or is it to your father’s groom?’—

XL

‘O hear me, mother, on my knee, Till my sad story I tell to thee.

XLI

‘O we were sisters, sisters seven; We were the fairest under heaven.

XLII

‘We had nae mair for our seven years’ wark But to shape and sew the King’s son a sark.

XLIII

‘It fell on a summer’s afternoon, When a’ our langsome task was done,

XLIV

‘We cast the kevils[78] us amang To see which suld to the grene-wood gang.

XLV

‘Ohone, alas! for I was the youngest, And aye my weird it was the hardest.

XLVI

‘The kevil it did on me fa’, Which was the cause of a’ my wae.

XLVII

‘For to the grene-wood I must gae, To pu’ the red rose and the slae;

XLVIII

‘To pu’ the red rose and the thyme To deck my mother’s bour and mine.

XLIX

‘I hadna pu’d a flower but ane, When by there came a gallant hende[79],

L

‘Wi’ high-coll’d[80] hose and laigh-coll’d shoon, And he seem’d to be some Kingis son.

LI

‘And be I a maid, or be I nae, He kept me there till the close o’ day:

LII

‘And be I a maid or be I nane, He kept me there till the day was done.

LIII

‘He gae me a lock o’ his yellow hair, And bade me keep it for ever mair:

LIV

‘He gae me a carknet[81] o’ bonny beads, And bade me keep it against my needs.

LV

‘He gae to me a gay gold ring, And bade me keep it abune a’ thing.

LVI

‘He gae to me a little pen-knife, And bade me keep it as my life.’—

LVII

‘What did you wi’ the tokens rare That ye got frae that gallant there?’—

LVIII

‘O bring that coffer here to me, And a’ the tokens ye sall see.’

LIX

And aye she sought, and aye she flang[82] Until these four things cam’ to her hand.

LX

‘Now stay here, daughter, your bour within, Till I gae parley with my son.’

LXI

O she has ta’en her thro’ the ha’, And on her son began to ca’.

LXII

‘What did you wi’ that gay gold ring I bade you keep abune a’ thing?

LXIII

‘What did you wi’ that little pen-knife I bade you keep while you had life?

LXIV

‘What did you wi’ the bonny beads I bade you keep against your needs?’—

LXV

‘I gae them to a ladye gay I met i’ the grene-wood on a day.

LXVI

‘But I wad gie a’ my ha’s and tours, I had that bright burd in my bours:

LXVII

‘But I wad gie my very life I had that ladye to my wife!’

LXVIII

‘Now keep, my son, your ha’s and tours; Ye have that bright burd in your bours.

LXIX

‘And keep, my son, your very life, Ye have that ladye to your wife.’

LXX

Now, or a month was come and gane, The ladye bore him a bonny son.

LXXI

And it was well written on his breast-bane, ‘Cospatrick is my father’s name.’

LXXII

O rowe[83] my ladye in satin and silk, And wash my son in the morning milk!

FOOTNOTES:

[69] bouted = bolted, sifted.

[70] paramour = meaning here uncertain.

[71] pall = fine cloth.

[72] yett = gate.

[73] into = in.

[74] lee = lie.

[75] carline = old woman.

[76] ban = band, hinge.

[77] laird or loun = squire or common fellow.

[78] kevils = lots.

[79] hende = courteous youth.

[80] high-coll’d, laigh-coll’d = high-cut, low-cut.

[81] carknet = necklace.

[82] flang = flung about, rummaged violently.

[83] rowe = roll, wrap.

6. Willy’s Lady

I

Sweet Willy’s ta’en him o’er the faem, He’s woo’d a wife and brought her hame.

II

He’s woo’d her for her yellow hair, But his mither wrought her mickle care;

III

And mickle dolour gar’d her drie[84], For lighter[85] she can never be.

IV

But in her bower she sits wi’ pain, And Willy mourns o’er her in vain.

V

And to his mither he has gane; That vile rank witch of vilest kind.

VI

He says: ‘My ladie has a cup Wi’ gowd and silver set about.

VII

‘This goodlie gift shall be your ain, And let her be lighter o’ her young bairn.’—

VIII

‘Of her young bairn she’ll ne’er be lighter, Nor in her bower to shine the brighter:

IX

‘But she shall die and turn to clay, And you shall wed another may.’—

X

‘Another may I’ll marry nane, Another may I’ll ne’er bring hame.’

XI

But sighing says his bonnie wife, ‘I wish this was an end o’ my life!

XII

‘Yet gae ye unto your mither again, That vile rank witch of vilest kind.

XIII

‘And say: My ladie has a steed, The like o’ him ’s no in the lands of Leed.

XIV

‘For at ilka tett[86] o’ that horse’s mane There’s a golden chess[87] and a bell ringíng.

XV

‘This goodlie gift shall be your ain, And let her be lighter o’ her young bairn.’—

XVI

‘O’ her young bairn she’ll ne’er be lighter, Nor in her bower to shine the brighter;

XVII

‘But she shall die and turn to clay, And ye shall wed another may.’—

XVIII

‘Another may I’ll marry nane, Another may I’ll ne’er bring hame.’

XIX

But sighing says his bonnie wife, ‘I wish this was an end o’ my life!

XX

‘Yet gae ye unto your mither again, That vile rank witch of vilest kind:

XXI

‘And say: My ladie has a girdle, It’s a’ red gowd unto the middle.

XXII

‘And ay at every silver hem Hangs fifty silver bells and ten.

XXIII

‘That goodlie gift shall be your ain, But let her be lighter o’ her young bairn.’—

XXIV

‘O’ her young bairn she’s ne’er be lighter, Nor in her bower to shine the brighter:

XXV

‘But she shall die and turn to clay, And you shall wed another may.’—

XXVI

‘Another may I’ll never wed nane, Another may I’ll never bring hame.’

XXVII

But sighing says his bonnie wife, ‘I wish this was an end o’ my life!’

XXVIII

Then out and spake the Billy Blind[88]— He spake aye in a good time;

XXIX

‘Ye doe ye to the market-place, And there buy ye a loaf o’ wax;

XXX

‘Ye shape it bairn and bairnly like, And in twa glasses e’en ye’ll pit[89].

XXXI

‘And do ye to your mither then, And bid her come to your boy’s christ’nen,

XXXII

‘For dear’s the boy he’s been to you: Then notice weel what she shall do:

XXXIII

‘And do you stand a little away, And listen weel what she shall say.’

XXXIV

He did him to the market-place, And there he bought a loaf o’ wax.

XXXV

He shaped it bairn and bairnly-like, And in ’t twa glasses e’en he pat[90].

XXXVI

He did him till his mither then, And bade her to his boy’s christ’nen.

XXXVII

And he did stand a little forbye[91], And noticed well what she did say.

XXXVIII

‘O wha has loosed the nine witch-knots That was among that ladie’s locks?

XXXIX

‘And wha has ta’en out the kaims[92] o’ care That hangs among that ladie’s hair?

XL

‘And wha’s ta’en down the bush o’ woodbine That hangs atween her bower and mine?

XLI

‘And wha has kill’d the master kid That ran aneath that ladie’s bed?

XLII

‘And wha has loosed her left-foot shee[93] And letten that ladie lighter be?’

XLIII

Syne Willy has loosed the nine witch-knots That was among his ladie’s locks:

XLIV

And Willy’s ta’en out the kaims o’ care That hang among his ladie’s hair:

XLV

And Willy’s ta’en down the bush o’ woodbine That hang atween her bower and thine:

XLVI

And Willy has kill’d the master kid That ran aneath his ladie’s bed:

XLVII

And Willy has loosed her left-foot shee, And letten his ladie lighter be.

XLVIII

And now he’s gotten a bonny young son, And mickle grace be him upon!

FOOTNOTES:

[84] gar’d her drie = caused her to suffer.

[85] lighter = i. e. delivered of her child.

[86] tett = tuft.

[87] chess =? jess, strap.

[88] Billy Blind = a Brownie, or friendly House-spirit.

[89] pit = put.

[90] pat = did put.

[91] forbye = aside.

[92] kaims = combs.

[93] shee = shoe.

7. The Queen of Elfland’s Nourice

I

‘I heard a cow low, a bonnie cow low, And a cow low down in yon glen: Lang, lang will my young son greet[94] Or his mither bid him come ben[95]!

II

‘I heard a cow low, a bonnie cow low, And a cow low down in yon fauld: Lang, lang will my young son greet Or his mither take him frae cauld!’

III

[The Queen of Elfan’s nourice[96] She sits and sings her lane] ‘Waken, Queen of Elfan And hear your nourice moan.’—

IV

‘O moan ye for your meat, Or moan ye for your fee, Or moan ye for the ither bounties That ladies are wont to gie?’—

V

‘I moan na for my meat, Nor moan I for my fee, Nor moan I for the ither bounties That ladies are wont to gie.

VI

[‘But I heard a bonnie cow Low down in yonder fauld] And I moan for my young son I left in four nights auld.

VII

‘I moan na for my meat, Nor yet for my fee; But I moan for Christen land; It’s there I fain would be.’

VIII

‘O nurse my bairn, nourice, Till he stan’ at your knee, An ye’s win hame to Christen land Whar fain it’s ye wad be.

IX

‘O keep my bairn, nourice, Till he gang by the hauld[97], An ye’s win hame to your young son Ye left in four nights auld.

X

‘O nourice lay your head [Here] upo’ my knee: See ye not that narrow road Up by yonder tree?

XI

[‘See ye not the narrow road By yon lillie leven?] That’s the road the righteous goes And that’s the road to heaven.

XII

‘An’ see na ye that braid road Down by yon sunny fell? Yon’s the road the wicked gae, An’ that’s the road to hell.

XIII

[‘An’ see na ye that bonny road About the fernie brae? That wins back frae Elfland Where you must wait to gae.’]

FOOTNOTES:

[94] greet = cry.

[95] ben = to the inner room.

[96] nourice = nurse.

[97] gang by the hauld = walk by holding on to the hand.

8. Lady Isabel and the Elf-Knight

I

My plaid awa’, my plaid awa’, And o’er the hill and far awa’; And far awa’ to Norrowa’, My plaid shall not be blown awa’!

II

Lady Isabel sits in her bower sewing, Aye as the gowans[98] grow gay— She heard an elf-knight his horn blawing, The first morning in May.

III

The elfin-knight sits on yon hill, He blaws his horn baith loud and shrill.

IV

He blaws it east, he blaws it west, He blaws it where he lyketh best.

V

‘I wish that horn were in my kist[99], Yea, and the knight in my arms niest[100].’

VI

She had no sooner these words said, When that knight came to her bed.

VII

‘Thou art owre young a maid,’ quoth he, ‘Married with me thou ill wouldst be.’—

VIII

‘I have a sister younger than I, And she was married yesterday.’—

IX

‘Married with me if thou wouldst be, A courtesie thou must do to me.

X

‘For thou must shape a sark[101] to me Without any cut or hem,’ quoth he.

XI

‘It’s ye maun shape it knife-and-shurlesse, And also sew it needle-threedlesse.

XII

‘And ye maun wash it in yonder well, Where the dew never wat[102] nor the rain never fell.

XIII

‘And ye maun dry it upon a thorn That never budded sin Adam was born.’—

XIV

‘Now sin ye have asked some things o’ me, It’s right I ask as mony o’ thee.

XV

‘My father he ask’d me an acre o’ land Between the saut sea and the strand.

XVI

‘And ye maun are[103] it wi’ your blawin’ horn, And ye maun sow it wi’ pepper corn.

XVII

‘And ye maun harrow it with ae tyne[104], And ye maun shear it with ae horse bane.

XVIII

‘And ye maun stack it in yon mouse-hole, And ye maun thresh it in yon shoe-sole.

XIX

‘And ye maun winnow it in your loof[105], And ye maun sack it in your glove.

XX

‘And ye maun bring it owre the sea, Fair and clean and dry to me.

XXI

‘And when ye’ve done an’ finish’d your wark, Come to me, love, an’ get your sark.’

XXII

‘It’s I’ll not quit my plaid for my life; It haps my seven bairns and my wife.’ The wind sall not blaw my plaid awa’: ‘And it’s I will keep me a maiden still, Let the elfin knight do what he will’— The wind has not blawn my plaid awa’!

FOOTNOTES:

[98] gowans = daisies.

[99] kist = chest.

[100] niest = next.

[101] sark = shirt.

[102] wat = wetted.

[103] are = plough.

[104] ae tyne = one harrow-point.

[105] loof = palm.

9. The Riddling Knight

I

There were three sisters fair and bright, Jennifer, Gentle and Rosemary, And they three loved one valiant knight— As the dow[106] flies over the mulberry-tree.

II

The eldest sister let him in, And barr’d the door with a silver pin.

III

The second sister made his bed, And placed soft pillows under his head.

IV

The youngest sister that same night Was resolved for to wed wi’ this valiant knight.

V

‘And if you can answer questions three, O then, fair maid, I’ll marry wi’ thee.

VI

‘O what is louder nor a horn, Or what is sharper nor a thorn?

VII

‘Or what is heavier nor the lead, Or what is better nor the bread?

VIII

‘Or what is longer nor the way, Or what is deeper nor the sea?’—

IX

‘O shame is louder nor a horn, And hunger is sharper nor a thorn.

X

‘O sin is heavier nor the lead, The blessing’s better nor the bread.

XI

‘O the wind is longer nor the way And love is deeper nor the sea.’

XII

[‘You have answer’d aright my questions three,] Jennifer, Gentle and Rosemary; And now, fair maid, I’ll marry wi’ thee, As the dow flies over the mulberry-tree.

FOOTNOTES:

[106] dow = dove.

10. May Colvin

I

False Sir John a-wooing came To a maid of beauty fair; May Colvin was this lady’s name, Her father’s only heir.

II

He woo’d her but[107], he woo’d her ben, He woo’d her in the ha’; Until he got the lady’s consent To mount and ride awa’.

III

‘Go fetch me some of your father’s gold, And some of your mother’s fee, And I’ll carry you into the north land, And there I’ll marry thee.’

IV

She’s gane to her father’s coffers Where all his money lay, And she’s taken the red, and she’s left the white, And so lightly she’s tripp’d away.

V

She’s gane to her father’s stable Where all the steeds did stand, And she’s taken the best, and she’s left the warst That was in her father’s land.

VI

She’s mounted on a milk-white steed, And he on a dapple-grey, And on they rade to a lonesome part, A rock beside the sea.

VII

‘Loup[108] off the steed,’ says false Sir John, ‘Your bridal bed you see; Seven ladies I have drownèd here, And the eight’ one you shall be.

VIII

‘Cast off, cast off your silks so fine And lay them on a stone, For they are too fine and costly To rot in the salt sea foam.

IX

‘Cast off, cast off your silken stays, For and your broider’d shoon, For they are too fine and costly To rot in the salt sea foam.

X

‘Cast off, cast off your Holland smock That’s border’d with the lawn, For it is too fine and costly To rot in the salt sea foam.’—

XI

‘O turn about, thou false Sir John, And look to the leaf o’ the tree; For it never became a gentleman A naked woman to see.’

XII

He turn’d himself straight round about To look to the leaf o’ the tree; She’s twined her arms about his waist And thrown him into the sea.

XIII

‘O hold a grip o’ me, May Colvín, For fear that I should drown; I’ll take you home to your father’s bower And safe I’ll set you down.’

XIV

‘No help, no help, thou false Sir John, No help, no pity thee! For you lie not in a caulder bed Than you thought to lay me.’

XV

She mounted on her milk-white steed, And led the dapple-grey, And she rode till she reach’d her father’s gate, At the breakin’ o’ the day.

XVI

Up then spake the pretty parrot, ‘May Colvin, where have you been? What has become o’ false Sir John That went with you yestreen?’—

XVII

‘O hold your tongue, my pretty parrot! Nor tell no tales o’ me; Your cage shall be made o’ the beaten gold And the spokes o’ ivorie.’

XVIII

Up then spake her father dear, In the bed-chamber where he lay; ‘What ails the pretty parrot, That prattles so long ere day?’—

XIX

‘There came a cat to my cage, master, I thought ’t would have worried me, And I was calling to May Colvín To take the cat from me.’

FOOTNOTES:

[107] but, ben = both in the outer and inner rooms.

[108] loup = leap.

11. The Wee Wee Man

I

As I was walking mine alane Atween a water and a wa’, There I spied a wee wee man, And he was the least that ere I saw.

II

His legs were scant a shathmont’s[109] length, And thick and thimber[110] was his thie[111]; Atween his brows there was a span, And atween his shoulders there was three.

III

He’s ta’en and flung a meikle stane, And he flang ’t as far as I could see; Though I had been a Wallace wight I couldna liften ’t to my knee.

IV

‘O wee wee man, but ye be strang! O tell me where your dwelling be?’ ‘My dwelling’s down by yon bonny bower; Fair lady, come wi’ me and see.’

V

On we lap[112], and awa’ we rade, Till we came to yon bonny green; We lighted down to bait our steed, And out there came a lady sheen[113];

VI

Wi’ four and twenty at her back A’ comely clad in glisterin’ green; Tho’ the King of Scotland had been there, The warst o’ them might ha’ been his queen.

VII

On we lap, and awa’ we rade, Till we came to a bonny ha’; The roof was o’ the beaten gowd, And the floor was o’ the cristal a’.

VIII

When we came to the stair-foot, Ladies were dancing jimp[114] and sma’, But in the twinkling of an eie My wee wee man was clean awa’.

IX

Out gat the lights, on came the mist, Ladies nor mannie mair cou’d I see: I turn’d about, and gae a look Just at the foot o’ Benachie.

FOOTNOTES:

[109] shathmont = measure from the point of the extended thumb to the extremity of the palm, six inches.

[110] thimber = stout.

[111] thie = thigh.

[112] lap = leapt.

[113] sheen = shining, beautiful.

[114] jimp = slim, slender.

12. Alison Gross

I

O Alison Gross, that lives in yon tow’r, The ugliest witch i’ the north countrie, Has trysted[115] me ae day up till her bow’r And mony fair speeches she made to me.

II

She straik’d my head an’ she kaim’d my hair, An’ she set me down saftly on her knee; Says, ‘Gin ye will be my lemman sae true, Sae mony braw things as I would you gie!’

III

She show’d me a mantle o’ red scarlét, Wi’ gouden flowers an’ fringes fine; Says, ‘Gin ye will be my lemman[116] sae true, This gudely gift it sall be thine.’—

IV

‘Awa’, awa’, ye ugly witch, Haud[117] far awa’, an’ lat me be! I never will be your lemman sae true, An’ I wish I were out o’ your company.’

V

She neist brought a sark o’ the saftest silk, Well wrought wi’ pearls about the band; Says, ‘Gin ye will be my lemman sae true, This gudely gift ye sall command.’

VI

She show’d me a cup o’ the good red gowd, Well set wi’ jewels sae fair to see; Says, ‘Gin ye will be my lemman sae true, This gudely gift I will you gie.’—

VII

‘Awa’, awa’, ye ugly witch, Haud far awa’, an’ lat me be! For I wouldna once kiss your ugly mouth For a’ the gifts that ye could gie.’

VIII

She’s turn’d her right an’ roun’ about, An’ thrice she blaw on a grass-green horn; An’ she sware by the moon an’ the stars abune That she’d gar me rue the day I was born.

IX

Then out has she ta’en a silver wand, An’ she’s turn’d her three times roun’ and roun’; She mutter’d sic words till my strength it fail’d, An’ I fell down senseless upon the groun’.

X

She’s turn’d me into an ugly worm, And gar’d me toddle about the tree; An’ ay, on ilka Saturday’s night, My sister Maisry came to me,

XI

Wi’ silver bason an’ silver kaim To kaim my headie upon her knee; But or I had kiss’d [wi’ Alison Gross] I’d sooner ha’ toddled about the tree.

XII

But as it fell out, on last Hallowe’en, When the Seely Court[118] was ridin’ by, The Queen lighted down on a gowany[119] bank Nae far frae the tree where I wont to lye.

XIII

She took me up in her milk-white han’, An’ she’s straik’d me three times o’er her knee; She changed me again to my ain proper shape, An’ nae mair I toddle about the tree.

FOOTNOTES:

[115] trysted = invited.

[116] lemman = sweetheart.

[117] haud = hold, keep.

[118] Seely Court = the Happy Court (of the Fairies).

[119] gowany = daisied.

13. Kemp Owyne

I

Her mother died when she was young, Which gave her cause to make great moan; Her father married the warst woman That ever lived in Christendom.

II

She servèd her wi’ foot and hand In everything that she could dee[120], Till once, in an unlucky time She threw her owre a craig[121] o’ the sea.

III

Says, ‘Lie you there, dove Isabel, And all my sorrows lie wi’ thee! Till Kemp[122] Owyne come to the craig, And borrow[123] you wi’ kisses three.’

IV

Her breath grew strang, her hair grew lang And twisted thrice about the tree, And all the people, far and near, Thought that a savage beast was she.

V

And aye she cried for Kemp Owyne Gin that he would but com’ to her hand:— Now word has gane to Kemp Owyne That siccan[124] a beast was in his land.

VI

‘Now by my sooth,’ says Kemp Owyne, ‘This fiery beast I’ll gang to see’; ‘And by my sooth,’ says Segramour, ‘My ae brother, I’ll gang you wi’.’

VII

O they have biggit[125] a bonny boat, And they have set her to the sea; But a mile before they reach’d the shore I wot she gar’d[126] the red fire flee.

VIII

‘O brother, keep my boat afloat, An’ lat her na the land so near! For the wicked beast she’ll sure go mad, An’ set fire to the land an’ mair.’

IX

Syne he has bent an arblast bow And aim’d an arrow at her head, And swore, if she didna quit the land, Wi’ that same shaft to shoot her dead.

X

‘O out o’ my stythe[127] I winna rise— And it is na for the fear o’ thee— Till Kemp Owyne, the kingis son, Come to the craig an’ thrice kiss me.’

XI

Her breath was strang, her hair was lang And twisted thrice about the tree, And with a swing she came about: ‘Come to the craig, an’ kiss with me!

XII

‘Here is a royal belt,’ she cried, ‘That I have found in the green sea; And while your body it is on, Drawn shall your blood never be; But if you touch me, tail or fin, I swear my belt your death shall be.’

XIII

He’s louted[128] him o’er the Eastmuir craig, As out she swang and about the tree; He steppèd in, gave her a kiss, The royal belt he brought him wi’.

XIV

Her breath was strang, her hair was lang And twisted twice about the tree, As awa’ she gid[129], and again she swang— ‘Come to the craig, an’ kiss with me!

XV

‘Here is a royal ring,’ she said, ‘That I have found in the green sea; And while your finger it is on, Drawn shall your blood never be; But if you touch me, tail or fin, I swear my ring your death shall be.’

XVI

He’s louted him o’er the Eastmuir craig, As out she swang and about the tree; He steppèd in, gave her a kiss, The royal ring he brought him wi’.

XVII

Her breath was strang, her hair was lang And twisted ance about the tree, As awa’ she gid and again she swang— ‘Come to the craig, an’ kiss with me!

XVIII

‘Here is a royal brand,’ she said, ‘That I have found in the green sea; And while your body it is on, Drawn shall your blood never be; But if you touch me, tail or fin, I swear my brand your death shall be.’

XIX

He’s louted him o’er the Eastmuir craig, As out she swang and about the tree; He steppèd in, gave her a kiss That royal brand he brought him wi’.

XX

Her breath was sweet, her hair grew short, And twisted nane about the tree, As awa’ she gid and again she came The fairest lady that ever could be.

XXI

‘O was it a wer-wolf into[130] the wood, Or was it a mermaid into the sea, Or was it a man or a vile woman, My true love, that mis-shapit thee?’—

XXII

‘It was na wer-wolf into the wood, Nor was it mermaid into the sea, But and it was my vile stepmother, And wae and weary mote she be!

XXIII

‘O a heavier weird shall light her on, Her hair sall grow rough an’ her teeth grow lang, And [aye] on her four feet sall she gang, And aye in Wormeswood sall she won[131]!’

FOOTNOTES:

[120] dee = do.

[121] craig = rock.

[122] Kemp = champion, knight.

[123] borrow = ransom.

[124] siccan = such.

[125] biggit = built.

[126] gar’d = made.

[127] stythe = place, station.

[128] louted = bowed.

[129] gid = went.

[130] into = in.

[131] won = dwell.

14. The Laily Worm
and the Machrel of the Sea

I

‘I was but seven year auld When my mither she did dee; My father married the ae warst woman The warld did ever see.

II

‘For she has made me the laily[132] worm, That lies at the fit o’ the tree, An’ my sister Masery she’s made The machrel of the sea.

III

‘An’ every Saturday at noon The machrel comes to me, An’ she takes my laily head An’ lays it on her knee, She kaims it wi’ a siller kaim, An’ washes ’t in the sea.

IV

‘Seven knights hae I slain, Sin I lay at the fit of the tree, An’ ye war na my ain father, The eighth ane ye should be.’—

V

‘Sing on your song, ye laily worm, That ye did sing to me.’— ‘I never sung that song but what I would sing it to thee.

VI

‘I was but seven year auld, When my mither she did dee; My father married the ae warst woman The warld did ever see.

VII

‘For she changed me to the laily worm, That lies at the fit o’ the tree, And my sister Masery To the machrel of the sea.

VIII

‘And every Saturday at noon The machrel comes to me, An’ she takes my laily head An’ lays it on her knee, An’ kames it wi’ a siller kame, An’ washes it i’ the sea.

IX

‘Seven knights hae I slain Sin I lay at the fit o’ the tree; An’ ye war na my ain father, The eighth ane ye should be.’

X

He sent for his lady, As fast as send could he: ‘Whar is my son that ye sent frae me, And my daughter, Lady Masery?’—

XI

‘Your son is at our king’s court, Serving for meat an’ fee, An’ your daughter’s at our queen’s court, The queen’s maiden to be.’—

XII

‘Ye lee, ye lee, ye ill woman, Sae loud as I hear ye lee; My son’s the laily worm, That lies at the fit o’ the tree, And my daughter, Lady Masery, Is the machrel of the sea!’

XIII

She has tane a siller wan’, An’ gi’en him strokès three, And he’s started up the bravest knight That ever your eyes did see.

XIV

She has ta’en a small horn, An’ loud an’ shrill blew she, An’ a’ the fish came her untill But the machrel of the sea: ‘Ye shapeit me ance an unseemly shape, An’ ye’s never mare shape me.’

XV

He has sent to the wood For whins and for hawthorn, An’ he has ta’en that gay lady, An’ there he did her burn.

FOOTNOTES:

[132] laily = loathly.

15. King Orfeo
A Shetland Ballad.

I

Der lived a king inta da aste[133], Scowan ürla grün[134] Der lived a lady in da wast. Whar giorten han grün oarlac.[135]

II

Dis king he has a huntin gaen, He’s left his Lady Isabel alane.

III

‘Oh I wis ye’d never gaen away, For at your hame is döl an wae.

IV

‘For da king o Ferrie we his daert, Has pierced your lady to da hert.’

V

And aifter dem da king has gaen, But when he cam it was a grey stane.

VI

Dan he took oot his pipes ta play, Bit sair his hert wi döl an wae.

VII

And first he played da notes o noy[136], An dan he played da notes o joy.

VIII

An dan he played da göd gabber reel[137], Dat meicht ha made a sick hert hale.

IX

‘Noo come ye in inta wir[138] ha’, An come ye in among wis[139] a’.’

X

Now he’s gaen in inta der ha’, An he’s gaen in among dem a’.

XI

Dan he took out his pipes to play, Bit sair his hert wi döl an wae.

XII

An first he played da notes o noy, An dan he played da notes o joy.

XIII

An dan he played da göd gabber reel, Dat meicht ha made a sick hert hale.

XIV

‘Noo tell to us what ye will hae: What sall we gie you for your play?’—

XV

‘What I will hae I will you tell, An dat’s me Lady Isabel.’—

XVI

‘Yees tak your lady, an yees gaeng hame, An yees be king ower a’ your ain.’

XVII

He’s taen his lady, an he’s gaen hame, An noo he’s king ower a’ his ain.

FOOTNOTES:

[133] aste = east.

[134] Scowan &c. = Early green’s the wood.

[135] giorten &c. = Where the hart goes yearly.

[136] noy = grief.

[137] göd gabber reel = the rollicking dance-tune.

[138] wir = our.

[139] wis = us.

16. King Henry

I

Let never a man a wooing wend That lacketh thingis three; A routh[140] o’ gold, an open heart And fu’ o’ courtesye.

II

As this I speak of King Henry, For he lay burd-alone[141]; An’ he’s doen him to a jelly[142] hunt’s ha’ Was seven mile frae a town.

III

He’s chased the deer down him before, An’ the roe down by the den, Till the fattest buck in a’ the flock King Henry he has slain.

IV

O he has doen him to his ha’ To make him bierly[143] cheer; An’ in it came a griesly ghost Steed stappin’ i’ the fleer[144].

V

Her head hat[145] the roof-tree o’ the house, Her middle ye weel mot[146] span; He’s thrown to her his gay mantle, Says, ‘Lady, hap[147] your lingcan[148].’

VI

Her teeth were a’ like teather stakes[149], Her nose like club or mell[150]; An’ I ken naething she ’pear’d to be But the fiend that wons[151] in hell.

VII

‘Some meat, some meat, ye King Henry, Some meat ye gie to me!’— ‘An’ what meat’s in this house, ladye, That ye’re not welcome tae?’— ‘O ye’se gae[152] kill your berry-brown steed, And serve him up to me.’

VIII

O whan he slew his berry-brown steed, Wow but his heart was sair! She ate him a’ up, skin an’ bane, Left naething but hide an’ hair.

IX

‘Mair meat, mair meat, ye King Henry, Mair meat ye gie to me!’— ‘An’ what meat’s in this house, ladye, That ye’re not welcome tae?’— ‘O do ye slay your good grey-hounds An’ bring them a’ to me.’

X

O whan he slew his good grey-hounds, Wow but his heart was sair! She ate them a’ up, skin an’ bane, Left naething but hide an’ hair.

XI

‘Mair meat, mair meat, ye King Henry, Mair meat ye gie to me!’— ‘An’ what meat’s in this house, ladye, That ye’re not welcome tae?’— ‘O do ye kill your gay goss-hawks An’ bring them a’ to me.’

XII

O whan he fell’d his gay goss-hawks, Wow but his heart was sair! She’s ate them a’ up, skin an’ bane, Left naethin’ but feathers bare.

XIII

‘Some drink, some drink, now, King Henry, Some drink ye bring to me!’— ‘O what drink’s in this house, ladye, That ye’re not welcome tae?’— ‘O ye sew up your horse’s hide, An’ bring in drink to me.’

XIV

O he’s sew’d up the bluidy hide, A puncheon o’ wine put in; She’s drunk it a’ up at a waught[153], Left na ae drap ahin’[154].

XV

‘A bed, a bed, now King Henry, A bed ye’se mak’ to me!’— ‘An’ what’s the bed in this house, ladye, That ye’re not welcome tae?’— ‘O ye maun pu’ the heather green, An’ mak’ a bed to me.’

XVI

Syne pu’d he has the heather green, An’ made to her a bed, An’ up has he ta’en his gay mantle, An’ o’er it he has spread.

XVII

‘Tak’ off your claiths now, King Henry, An’ lie down by my side!’— ‘O God forbid,’ says King Henry, ‘That ever the like betide; That ever a fiend that wons in hell Shou’d streak[155] down by my side!’

XVIII

But whan day was come, and night was gane, An’ the sun shone thro’ the ha’, The fairest ladye that ever was seen [Cam’ to his armès twa].

XIX

‘O weel is me!’ says King Henry, ‘How lang’ll this last wi’ me?’ Then out an’ spake that fair ladye, ‘Even till the day you dee.

XX

‘For I’ve met wi’ many a gentle knight That’s gien me sic a fill; But never before wi’ a courteous knight That ga’e me a’ my will.’

FOOTNOTES:

[140] routh = plenty.

[141] burd-alone = lone as a maid.

[142] jelly = jolly, jovial.

[143] bierly = stout, handsome.

[144] fleer = floor.

[145] hat = hit.

[146] mot = might.

[147] hap = cover.

[148] lingcan for lycam = body.

[149] teather stakes = tether pegs.

[150] mell = mallet.

[151] wons = dwells.

[152] ye’se gae = you shall go.

[153] waught = draught.

[154] ahin’ = behind.

[155] streak = stretch.

17. The Boy and the Mantle
A Ballad of King Arthur’s Court.

I

In the third day of May To Carleile did come A kind curteous child That co’ld[156] much of wisdome.

II

A kirtle and a mantle This child had uppon, With brauches and ringes Full richelye bedone[157].

III

He had a sute of silke About his middle drawne; Without he co’ld of curtesye He thought it much shame.

IV

‘God speed thee, King Arthur, Sitting at thy meate; And the goodly Queene Guenever! I cannot her forget.

V

‘I tell you, lords in this hall, I hett[158] you all heed, Except you be the more surer Is for you to dread.’

VI

He pluck’d out of his potener[159], And longer wo’ld not dwell, He pull’d forth a pretty mantle Betweene two nut-shells.

VII

‘Have thou here, King Arthur, Have thou here of mee: Give itt to thy comely queene Shapen as itt is alreadye.

VIII

‘Itt shall never become that wiffe That hath once done amisse.’ Then every knight in the king’s court Began to care[160] for his.

IX

Forth came dame Guenever, To the mantle she her bed[161]; The ladye shee was new fangle[162] But yett she was affrayd.

X

When shee had taken the mantle, She stoode as shee had beene madd; It was from the top to the toe As sheeres had it shread.

XI

One while was it gaule[163], Another while was itt greene, Another while was it wadded[164]; Ill itt did her beseeme.

XII

Another while it was blacke, And bore the worst hue: ‘By my troth,’ quoth King Arthur, ‘I thinke thou be not true.’

XIII

Shee threw downe the mantle, That bright was of blee[165]; Fast with a rudd red To her chamber can[166] she flee.

XIV

She cursed the weaver and the walker[167] That cloth that had wrought, And bade a vengeance on his crowne That hither hath itt brought.

XV

‘I had rather be in a wood, Under a greenè tree, Than in King Arthur’s court Shamèd for to bee.’

XVI

Kay call’d forth his ladye And bade her come neere; Saies, ‘Madam, and thou be guiltye I pray thee hold thee here.’

XVII

Forth came his ladye Shortlye and anon; Boldlye to the mantle Then is she gone.

XVIII

When she had tane the mantle, And her about it cast Then was she bare All unto the waist.

XIX

Then every knight That was in the King’s court Talk’d, laugh’d and showted Full oft att that sport.

XX

She threw down the mantle That bright was of blee, Fast with a red rudd[168] To her chamber can she flee.

XXI

Forth came an old Knight Pattering ore a creede, And he proferr’d to this little Boy Twenty markes to his meede;

XXII

And all the time of Christmasse Willingly to ffeede; For why[169] this mantle might Doe his wiffe some need.

XXIII

When shee had tane the mantle Of cloth that was made, Shee had no more left on her But a tassell and a threed: That every knight in the King’s court Bade evill might shee speed.

XXIV

She threw downe the mantle, That bright was of blee, Fast with a red rudd To her chamber can she flee.

XXV

Craddocke call’d forth his ladye And bade her come in; Saith, ‘Winne this mantle, ladye, With a little dinne[170].

XXVI

‘Winne this mantle, ladye, And it shal be thine If thou never did amisse Since thou wast mine.’

XXVII

Forth came Craddocke’s ladye Shortlye and anon, But boldlye to the mantle Then is shee gone.

XXVIII

When she had tane the mantle And cast it her about, Up at her great toe It began to crinkle and crowt[171]: Shee said, ‘Bowe downe, mantle, And shame me not for nought.

XXIX

‘Once I did amisse, I tell you certainlye, When Craddocke’s mouth I kist Under a greenè tree; When I kist Craddocke’s mouth Before he marryed mee.’

XXX

When shee had her shreeven[172] And her sinnes shee had tolde, The mantle stood about her Right as she wo’ld;

XXXI

Seemelye of coulour, Glittering like gold Then every knight in Arthur’s court Did her behold.

XXXII

The little Boy stoode Looking over a dore; [There as he look’d He was ware of a wyld bore.]

XXXIII

He was ware of a wyld bore Wo’ld have werryed[173] a man: He pull’d forth a wood-kniffe Fast thither that he ran: He brought in the bore’s head And quitted him like a man.

XXXIV

He brought in the bore’s head, And was wonderous bold; He said there was never a cuckold’s kniffe Carve itt that co’ld.

XXXV

Some rubb’d their knives Uppon a whetstone; Some threw them under the table, And said they had none.

XXXVI

King Arthur and the child Stood looking them upon; All their knives’ edges Turnèd backe againe.

XXXVII

Craddocke had a litle kniffe Of iron and of steele; He birtled[174] the bore’s head Wonderous weale, That every knight in the King’s court Had a morssell.

XXXVIII

The litle Boy had a horne, Of red gold that ronge[175]; He said, ‘There was noe cuckolde Shall drinke of my horne, But he sho’ld itt sheede[176] Either behind or beforne.’

XXXIX

Some shedd it on their shoulder And some on their knee; He that co’ld not hitt his mouth Put it in his e’e; And he that was a cuckold Every man might him see.

XL

Craddocke wan the horne And the bore’s head; His ladye wan the mantle Unto her meede; Everye such a lovely ladye God send her well to speede!

FOOTNOTES:

[156] co’ld = could, knew.

[157] bedone = adorned.

[158] hett = bid.

[159] potener = pouch, purse.

[160] care = bethink him.

[161] bed = bid, offered.

[162] new fangle = capricious.

[163] gaule = gules, red.

[164] wadded = of woad colour, blue.

[165] blee = hue.

[166] can = did.

[167] walker = fuller.

[168] rudd = complexion.

[169] For why = because.

[170] dinne = noise, i. e. ado.

[171] crowt = pucker.

[172] shreeven = shriven, confessed.

[173] werryed = worried.

[174] birtled = brittled, cut up.

[175] ronge = rung, resounded.

[176] sheede = shed, spill.

18. King Arthur and King Cornwall
A Fragment

King Arthur of Little Britain unwisely boasts the beauty of his famous Round Table.

I

Saies, ‘Come here, cuzen Gawaine so gay, My sisters sonne be yee; Ffor you shall see one of the fairest round tables That ever you see with your eye.’

II

Then bespake Lady Queen Guenever, And these were the words said shee: ‘I know where a round table is, thou noble king, Is worth thy round table and other such three.

III

‘The trestle that stands under this round table,’ she said, ‘Lowe downe to the mould, It is worth thy round table, thou worthy king, Thy halls, and all thy gold.

IV

‘The place where this round table stands in, [Is fencèd round amaine] It is worth thy castle, thy gold, thy fee, And all good Litle Britaine.’

V

‘Where may that table be, lady?’ quoth hee, ‘Or where may all that goodly building be?’ ‘You shall it seeke,’ shee says, ‘till you it find; You shall never gett more of me.’

VI

Then bespake him noble King Arthur These were the words said hee: ‘I’le make mine avow to God, And alsoe to the Trinity,

VII

‘I’le never sleepe one night there as I doe another ’Till that round table I see: Sir Marramiles and Sir Tristeram, Fellowes that ye shall bee.

VIII

[‘Sir Gawaine and Sir Bredbettle Be fellowes eke with me,] Weele be clad in palmers’ weede, Five palmers we will bee;

IX

‘There is noe outlandish man will us abide, Nor will us come nye.’ Then they rived[177] east and they rived west, In many a strange countrỳ.

X

Then they tranckled[178] a litle further, They saw a battle new sett: ‘Now, by my faith,’ saies noble King Arthur, [‘These armies be well met.’]

After travelling in many strange lands they arrive at the castle of King Cornwall, not a great way from home.

XI

But when he cam to this [Cornwall castle] And to the palace gate, Soe ready was ther a proud portèr, And met him soone therat.

XII

Shooes of gold the porter had on, And all his other rayment was unto the same: ‘Now, by my faith,’ saies noble King Arthur, ‘Yonder is a minion swaine.’

XIII

Then bespake noble King Arthur, These were the words says hee: ‘Come thou hither, thou proud portèr, I pray thee come hither to me.

XIV

‘I have two poore rings, of my finger, The better of them I’le give to thee; Tell who may be lord of this castle, Or who is lord in this cuntry?’

XV

‘Cornewall King,’ the porter sayes, ‘There is none soe rich as hee; Neither in christendome, nor yet in heathendom, None hath soe much gold as he.’

XVI

And then bespake him noble King Arthur, These were the words sayes hee: ‘I have two poore rings of my finger, The better of them I’le give thee, If thou wilt greete him well, Cornewall King, And greete him well from me.

XVII

‘Pray him for one night’s lodging and two meales’ meate, For his love that dyed uppon a tree; Of one ghesting[179] and two meales’ meate, For his love that dyed uppon tree.

XVIII

‘Of one ghesting, of two meales’ meate, For his love that was of virgin borne, And in the morning that we may scape away, Either without scath or scorne.’

XIX

Then forth is gone this proud portèr, As fast as he co’ld hye, And when he came befor Cornewall King, He kneelèd downe on his knee.

XX

Sayes, ‘I have beene porter-man at thy gate This thirty winter and three, [But there is ffive knights before itt now, The like I never did see.’]

King Cornwall questioning the strangers, they happen to speak of a certain shrine of Our Lady, from which he gathers that they have been in Little Britain. This leads him to question them concerning King Arthur.

XXI

Our Lady was borne; then thought Cornewall King ‘These palmers had beene in Brittaine.’

XXII

Then bespake him Cornewall King, These were the words he said there: ‘Did you ever know a comely king, His name was King Arthùr?’

XXIII

And then bespake him noble King Arthùr, These were the words said hee: ‘I doe not know that comly king, But once my selfe I did him see.’ Then bespake Cornewall King againe, These were the words said he:

XXIV

Sayes, ‘Seven yeere I was clad and fed, In Litle Brittaine, in a bower; I had a daughter by King Arthur’s wife, That now is called my flower; For King Arthur, that kindly cockward, Hath none such in his bower.

XXV

‘For I durst sweare, and save my othe, That same lady soe bright, That a man that were laid on his death bed Wo’ld open his eyes on her to have sight.’— ‘Now, by my faith,’ sayes noble King Arthur, ‘And that’s a full faire wight!’

XXVI

And then bespake Cornewall [King] againe, And these were the words he said: ‘Come hither, five or three of my knights, And feitch me downe my steed; King Arthur, that foule cockeward, Hath none such, if he had need.

XXVII

‘For I can ryde him as far on a day As King Arthur can any of his on three; And is it not a pleasure for a king When he shall ryde forth on his journèy?

XXVIII

‘For the eyes that beene in his head, They glister as doth the gleed[180].’ ‘Now, by my faith,’ says noble King Arthur, ‘That is a well faire steed.’

After showing them other of his possessions, King Cornwall has the strangers conducted to bed; but first takes the precaution to conceal the Burlow Beanie, or Billy Blind—friendly household spirit—in a rubbish-barrel by the bedside, to listen and overhear their conversation.

XXX

Then King Arthur to his bed was brought, A greivèd man was hee; And soe were all his fellowes with him. From him they thought never to flee.

XXXI

Then take they did that lodly[181] groome, And under the rub-chadler[182] closed was hee, And he was set by King Arthur’s bed-side, To heere theire talke and theire comunye;

XXXII

That he might come forth, and make proclamation, Long before it was day; It was more for King Cornewall’s pleasure, Then it was for King Arthur’s pay[183].

XXXIII

And when King Arthur in his bed was laid, These were the words said hee: ‘I’le make mine avow to God, And alsoe to the Trinity, That I’le be the bane of Cornewall Kinge Litle Brittaine or ever I see!’

XXXIV

‘It is an unadvised vow,’ saies Gawaine the gay, ‘As ever king hard make I; But wee that beene five christian men, Of the christen faith are wee, And we shall fight against anoynted king And all his armorie.’

XXXV

And then bespake him noble Arthur, And these were the words said he: ‘Why, if thou be afraid, Sir Gawaine the gay, Goe home, and drinke wine in thine owne country.’

XXXVI

And then bespake Sir Gawaine the gay, And these were the words said hee: ‘Nay, seeing you have made such a hearty vow, Heere another vow make will I.

XXXVII

‘I’le make mine avow to God, And alsoe to the Trinity, That I will have yonder faire lady To Litle Brittaine with mee.

While they lie talking, an unguarded movement of the sprite in the barrel leads to his discovery. Then follows a great combat.

XXXIX

[O then bespake Sir Tristram,] These were the words sayd hee: ‘Befor I wold wrestle with yonder feend, It is better to be drown’d in the sea.’

XL

And then bespake Sir Bredbeddle, And these were the words said he ‘Why, I will wrestle with yon lodly feend, God, my governor thou wilt bee!’

XLI

Then bespake him noble Arthur, And these were the words said he: ‘What weapons wilt thou have, thou gentle knight? I pray thee tell to me.’

XLII

He sayes, ‘Collen brand[184] I’le have in my hand, And a Millaine[185] knife fast by my knee, And a Danish axe fast in my hands, That a sure weapon I thinke will be.’

XLIII

Then with his Collen brand that he had in his hand, The bunge of that rub-chandler he burst in three; With that start out a lodly feend, With seven heads, and one body.

XLIV

The fyer towards the element[186] flew, Out of his mouth, where was great plentie; The knight stoode in the middle and fought, That it was great joy to see.

XLV

Till his Collaine brand brake in his hand, And his Millaine knife burst on his knee, And then the Danish axe burst in his hand first, That a sure weapon he thought sho’ld be.

XLVI

But now is the knight left without any weapons, And alacke! it was the more pittye; But a surer weapon then he had one, Had neuer lord in Christentye; And all was but one litle booke, He found it by the side of the sea.

XLVII

He found it at the sea-side, Wruckèd upp in a floode; Our Lord had written it with his hands, And sealed it with his bloode.

With this book of Evangiles Sir Bredbittle, otherwise the Green Knight, overcomes the sprite, and having conjured him into a wall of stone, returns with report to King Arthur.

XLVIII

[Saies] ‘That thou doe not [stir a foot] But ly still in that wall of stone, Till I have beene with noble King Arthur, And told him what I have done.’

XLIX

And when he came to the king’s chamber, He co’ld of his curtesie: Says, ‘Sleepe you, wake you, noble King Arthur? And ever Jesus waken yee!’

L

‘Nay, I am not sleeping, I am waking,’ These were the words said hee; ‘Ffor thee I have car’d; how hast thou fared? O gentle knight, let me see.’

LI

The knight wrought the king his booke, Bad him behold, reede and see; And ever he found it on the back of the leafe As noble Arthur wo’ld wish it to be.

LII

And then bespake him King Arthur, ‘Alas! thow gentle knight, how may this be, That I might see him in the same licknesse That he stood unto thee?’

LIII

And then bespake him the Greene Knight, These were the words said hee: ‘If you’le stand stifly in the battell stronge, For I have won all the victory.’

LIV

Then bespake him the king againe, And these were the words said hee: ‘If wee stand not stifly in this battell strong, Wee are worthy to be hang’d on a tree.’

LV

Then bespake him the Greene Knight, These were the words said he: Saies, ‘I doe conjure thee, thou fowle feend, In the same licknesse thou stood unto me.’

LVI

With that start out a lodly feend, With seven heads, and one bodỳ; The fier towards the element flew Out of his mouth, where was great plentie.

But now with the aid of the book Sir Bredbittle has the fiend wholly at command. He is sent first to fetch the steed.

LIX

And then bespake him the Greene Knight, And these were the words said he: Saith, ‘I conjure thee, thou fowle feend, That thou feitch downe the steed, that we see.’

LX

And then forth is gone Burlow-beanie, As fast as he co’ld hie, And feitch he did that fairè steed, And came againe by and by.

LXI

Then bespake him Sir Marramiles, And these were the words said hee: ‘Ryding of this steed, brother Bredbeddle, The mastery belongs to me.’

LXII

Marramiles tooke the steed to his hand, To ryd him he was full bold; He co’ld noe more make him goe Then a child of three yeere old.

LXIII

He laid uppon him with heele and hand, With yard that was soe fell; ‘Helpe! brother Bredbeddle,’ says Marramile, ‘For I thinke he be the devill of hell.

LXIV

‘Helpe! brother Bredbeddle,’ says Marramile, ‘Helpe! for Christ’s pittye; Ffor without thy help, brother Bredbeddle, He will never be rydden for me.’

LXV

Then bespake him Sir Bredbeddle, These were the words said he: ‘I conjure thee tell, thou Burlow-beanie, How this steed was riddin in his country.’

LXVI

‘In Cornewall’s window is a gold wand; Let him strike three strokes on that steed, And then he will spring forth of his hand As sparke doth out of gleede[187].’

Then Sir Tristram requires a horn. At Sir Bredbittle’s command the sprite fetches it; but the horn will not sound until anointed with a certain powder. This also the sprite is sent to fetch.

LXX

And then bespake Sir Bredebeddle, To the ffeend these words said hee: Says, ‘I conjure thee, thou Burlow-beanie, The powder-box thou feitch me.’

LXXI

Then forth is gone Burlow-beanie, As fast as he co’ld hie, And feich he did the powder-box, And came againe by and by.

LXXII

Then Sir Tristeram tooke powder forth of that box, And blent it with warme sweet milke, And there put it unto that horne, And swill’d it about in that ilke.

LXXIII

Then he tooke the horne into his hand, And a lowd blast he blew; He rent the horne up to the midst, All his ffellowes this they knew.

LXXIV

Then bespake him the Greene Knight, These were the words said he: Saies, ‘I conjure thee, thou Burlow-beanie, That thou feitch me the sword, that I see.’

LXXV

Then forth is gone Burlow-beanie, As fast as he co’ld hie, And feitch he did that fairè sword, And came againe by and by.

LXXVI

Then bespake him Sir Bredbeddle, To the king these words said he: ‘Take this sword in thy hand, thou noble King Arthur, For thy vowes sake I’le give it thee, And goe strike off King Cornewall’s head, In bed where he doth lye.’

LXXVII

Then forth is gone noble King Arthur, As fast as he co’ld hye, And strucken he hath off King Cornewall’s head, And came againe by and by.

So King Arthur fulfils his vow; and, if the rest of the Ballad had been preserved, no doubt it would have told us how his companions fulfilled theirs.

FOOTNOTES:

[177] rived = arrived, travelled.

[178] tranckled = travelled.

[179] ghesting = guesting, lodging.

[180] gleed = live coal.

[181] lodly = loathly.

[182] rub-chadler = rubbish-tub.

[183] pay = satisfaction.

[184] Collen brand = sword of Cologne steel.

[185] Millaine = Milanese.

[186] element = sky.

[187] gleede = live coal.

19. The Marriage of Sir Gawain
[A Fragment]

I

Kinge Arthur lives in merry Carleile, And seemely is to see, And there he hath with him Queene Genever, That bride soe bright of blee[188].

II

And there he hath with him Queene Genever, That bride soe bright in bower, And all his barons about him stoode, That were both stiffe and stowre[189].

III

The king kept a royall Christmasse, Of mirth and great honor.

Soon after Christmas the King chanced to ride by Tarn Wadling[190], in the forest of Inglewood, when he was met by a fierce baron armed with a club, who offered him choice between fighting and ransom. For ransom, the King must return on New Year’s Day—

IV

‘And bring me word what thing it is That a woman will most desire; This shalbe thy ransome, Arthur,’ he sayes, ‘For I’le have noe other hier.’

V

King Arthur then held up his hand, According thene as was the law; He tooke his leave of the baron there, And homward can he draw.

VI

And when he came to merry Carleile, To his chamber he is gone, And ther came to him his cozen Sir Gawaine, As he did make his mone.

VII

And there came to him his cozen Sir Gawaine, That was a curteous knight; ‘Why sigh you soe sore, unckle Arthur,’ he said, ‘Or who hath done thee unright?’—

VIII

‘O peace, O peace, thou gentle Gawaine, That faire may thee beffall! For if thou knew my sighing soe deepe, Thou wo’ld not mervaile att all.

IX

‘Ffor when I came to Tearne Wadling, A bold barron there I fand, With a great club upon his backe, Standing stiffe and strong.

X

‘And he asked me wether I wo’ld fight Or from him I shold begone, Or else I must him a ransome pay, And soe depart him from.

XI

‘To fight with him I saw noe cause; Methought it was not meet; For he was stiffe and strong with-all, His strokes were nothing sweete.

XII

‘Therefor this is my ransome, Gawaine, I ought to him to pay; I must come againe, as I am sworne, Upon the New Yeer’s day;

XIII

‘And I must bring him word what thing it is [That a woman will most desire].

Arthur, having collected and written down many answers to the baron’s riddle, was true to his promise, thus—

XIV

Then king Arthur drest him for to ryde, In one soe rich array, Toward the fore-said Tearne Wadling, That he might keepe his day.

XV

And as he rode over a more, Hee see a lady where shee sate Betwixt an oke and a greene hollen[191]; She was cladd in red scarlett.

XVI

Then thereas shold have stood her mouth, Then there was sett her eye; The other was in her forhead fast, The way that she might see.

XVII

Her nose was crooked and turn’d outward, Her mouth stood foule a-wry; A worse form’d lady than shee was, Never man saw with his eye.

XVIII

To halch upon[192] him, King Arthur, This lady was full faine, But King Arthur had forgott his lesson, What he sho’ld say againe.

XIX

‘What knight art thou,’ the lady sayd, ‘That will not speak to me? Of me be thou nothing dismay’d, Tho I be ugly to see.

XX

‘For I have halched you curteouslye, And you will not me againe; Yett I may happen Sir Knight,’ shee said, ‘To ease thee of thy paine.’

XXI

‘Give thou ease me, lady,’ he said, ‘Or helpe me any thing, Thou shalt have gentle Gawaine, my cozen, And marry him with a ring.’

The hag thereupon gave him the right answer and he rode forward.

XXIII

And when he came to the Tearne Wadling, The baron there co’ld he finde, With a great weapon on his backe, Standing stiffe and stronge.

XXIV

And then he tooke King Arthur’s letters in his hands, And away he co’ld them fling, And then he puld out a good browne sword, And cryd himselfe a king.

XXV

And he sayd, ‘I have thee and thy land, Arthur, To doe as it pleaseth me, For this is not thy ransome sure, Therfore yeeld thee to me.’

XXVI

And then bespoke him noble Arthur, And bad him hold his hand: ‘And give me leave to speake my mind In defence of all my land.’

XXVII

He said, ‘As I came over a more, I see a lady where shee sate Betweene an oke and a green hollen; Shee was clad in red scarlett.

XXVIII

‘And she says a woman will have her will, And this is all her cheef desire: Doe me right, as thou art a baron of sckill[193], This is thy ransome and all thy hyer.’

XXIX

He sayes, ‘An early vengeance light on her! She walkes on yonder more; It was my sister that told thee this, [As shee heard it of me before.]

XXX

‘But heer I’le make mine avow to God To doe her an evill turne; For an’ ever I may thate fowle theefe get, In a fyer I will her burne.’

The King, having returned home, told his knights that he had in the forest a bride for one of them, and a number rode out in his company to find her.

XXXI

Sir Lancelott and Sir Steven bold, They rode with them that day, And the formost of the company There rode the steward Kay.

XXXII

Soe did Sir Banier and Sir Bore, Sir Garrett with them soe gay, Soe did Sir Tristeram that gentle knight, To the forrest fresh and gay.

XXXIII

And when he came to the greene forrest, Underneath a greene holly tree, Their sate that lady in red scarlet That unseemly was to see.

XXXIV

Sir Kay beheld this lady’s face, And looked uppon her swire[194]; ‘Whosoever kisses this lady,’ he sayes, ‘Of his kisse he stands in feare.’

XXXV

Sir Kay beheld the lady againe, And looked upon her snout; ‘Whosoever kisses this lady,’ he saies, ‘Of his kisse he stands in doubt.’

XXXVI

‘Peace, cozen Kay,’ then said Sir Gawaine, ‘Amend thee of thy life; For there is a knight amongst us all That must marry her to his wife.’

XXXVII

‘What! wedd her to wiffe!’ then said Sir Kay, ‘In the divell’s name anon! Gett me a wiffe where-ere I may, For I had rather be slaine!’

XXXVIII

Then some tooke up their hawkes in hast. And some tooke up their hounds, And some sware they wo’ld not marry her For citty nor for towne.

XXXIX

And then be-spake him noble King Arthur, And sware there by this day, For a litle foule sight and misliking [They should not say her Nay].

At length Sir Gawain, for Arthur’s sake, consented. The ugly bride was taken home and bedded, when to Gawain’s delight in his arms she turned to a beautiful woman. She then offered him a choice.—

XL

Then shee said, ‘Choose thee, gentle Gawaine, Truth as I doe say, Wether thou wilt have me in this liknesse In the night or else in the day.’

XLI

And then bespake him gentle Gawaine, Was one soe mild of moode, Sayes, ‘Well I know what I wo’ld say, God grant it may be good!

XLII

‘To have thee fowle in the night When I with thee sho’ld play— Yet I had rather, if I might, Have thee fowle in the day.’

XLIII

‘What! when lords goe with ther feires[195],’ shee said, ‘Both to the ale and wine, Alas! then I must hyde my selfe, I must not goe withinne.’

XLIV

And then bespake him gentle Gawaine, Said, ‘Lady, that’s but skill; And because thou art my owne lady, Thou shall have all thy will.’

XLV

Then she said, ‘Blesed be thou, gentle Gawain, This day that I thee see! For as thou seest me att this time, From hencforth I wilbe.

XLVI

‘My father was an old knight, And yett it chancèd soe That he marryed a younge lady That brought me to this woe.

XLVII

‘Shee witched me, being a faire young lady, To the greene forrest to dwell, And there I must walke in woman’s liknesse, Most like a feend of hell.

XLVIII

‘She witched my brother to a carlish [boore]

Being thus given what a woman most desires (that is, her will) she is released from the spell and becomes beautiful at all times: and Sir Gawain leads his lady in triumph among the knights, to present her to the King and Queen.

L

‘Come kisse her, brother Kay,’ then said Sir Gawaine, ‘And amend thé of thy liffe; I sweare this is the same lady That I marryed to my wiffe.’

LI

Sir Kay kissed that lady bright, Standing upon his ffeete; He swore, as he was trew knight, The spice was never soe sweete.

LII

‘Well, cozen Gawaine,’ sayes Sir Kay, ‘Thy chance is fallen arright, For thou hast gotten one of the fairest maids I ever saw with my sight.’—

LIII

‘It is my fortune,’ said Sir Gawaine; ‘For my unckle Arthurs sake I am glad as grasse wold be of raine, Great joy that I may take.’

LIV

Sir Gawaine tooke the lady by the one arme, Sir Kay tooke her by the tother, They led her straight to King Arthur, As they were brother and brother.

LV

King Arthur welcomed them there all, And soe did Lady Genever his queene, With all the knights of the Round Table, Most seemly to be seene.

LVI

King Arthur beheld that lady faire That was soe faire and bright, He thanked Christ in Trinity For Sir Gawaine that gentle knight.

LVII

Soe did the knights, both more and lesse, Rejoyced all that day For the good chance that hapened was To Sir Gawaine and his lady gay.

FOOTNOTES:

[188] blee = hue, complexion.

[189] stowre = strong or perhaps we should read ‘stiff in stowre’ = sturdy in fight.

[190] Tarn Wadling = The place—near Hesketh in Cumberland, on the road from Carlisle to Penrith—keeps its name to this day. But the tarn has been drained and its site is now a pasture for sheep.

[191] hollen = holly-tree.

[192] halch upon = salute.

[193] sckill = wit, judgement.

[194] swire = neck.

[195] feires = mates.

20. Bonnie Annie

I

There was a rich lord, and he lived in Forfar, He had a fair lady and one only dochter.

II

O she was fair! O dear, she was bonnie! A ship’s captain courted her to be his honey.

III

‘Ye’ll steal your father’s gowd, and your mother’s money, And I’ll make ye a lady in Ireland bonnie.’

IV

She’s stown her father’s gowd, and her mother’s money, But she was never a lady in Ireland bonnie.

V

They hadna sail’d far till the young thing cried ‘Woman!’ ‘What can a woman do, love, I will do for ye.

VI

‘Lay about, steer about, lay our ship cannie[196], Do all ye can to save my dear Annie.’

VII

‘There’s fey[197] folk in our ship, she winna sail for me, There’s fey folk in our ship, she winna sail [ony].’

VIII

They’ve castin’ black bullets twice six and forty, And ae the black bullet fell on bonnie Annie.

IX

‘Ye’ll tak me in your arms twa, lo, lift me cannie, Throw me out owre-board, your ain dear Annie.’

X

He has ta’en her in his arms twa, lo, lifted her cannie, He has laid her on a bed of down, his ain dear Annie.

XI

‘What can a woman do, love, I’ll do for ye:’ ‘Muckle can a woman do, ye canna do for me.’

XII

‘Lay about, steer about, lay our ship cannie, Do all ye can to save my dear Annie.’

XIII

‘I’ve laid about, steer’d about, laid about cannie, Our ship’s on a sand-bank, she winna sail [ony]—

XIV

‘Ye’ll take her in your arms twa, lo, lift her cannie, And throw her out owre-board, your ain dear Annie.’

XV

He has ta’en her in his arms twa, lo, lifted her cannie, He has thrown her out owre-board, his ain dear Annie.

XVI

[The corse it did float, the ship it did follow] Until that they came to the high banks o’ Yarrow[198].

XVII

‘O I’d bury my love on the high banks o’ Yarrow, But the wood it is dear, and the planks they are narrow.’

XVIII

He made his love a coffin o’ the gowd sae yellow, And buried his bonnie love doun in a sea valley.

FOOTNOTES:

[196] cannie = gently.

[197] fey = destined to die.

[198] Yarrow =? Jarrow.

21. Brown Robyn’s Confession

I

It fell upon a Wadensday Brown Robyn’s men went to sea; But they saw neither moon nor sun Nor starlight wi’ their e’e.

II

‘We’ll cast kevels[199] us amang; See wha the man may be.’— The kevel fell on Brown Robyn, The master-man was he.

III

‘It is nae wonder,’ said Brown Robyn, ‘Altho’ I dinna thrive; [For at hame I murder’d my ain father— I would he were on live.]

IV

‘But tie me to a plank o’ wude, And throw me in the sea; And if I sink, ye may bid me sink, But if I swim, let be.’

V

They’ve tied him to a plank o’ wude And thrown him in the sea; He didna sink, tho’ they bade him sink, He swim’d, and they bade let be.

VI

He hadna been into the sea An hour but barely three, Till by it came Our Blessed Ladie Her dear young son her wi’.

VII

‘Will ye gang to your men again, Or will ye gang wi’ me? Will ye gang to the high heavens Wi’ my dear son and me?’—

VIII

‘I winna gang to my men again, For they would be fear’d at me; But I would gang to the high heavens, Wi’ thy dear son and thee.’

IX

‘It’s for nae honour ye did, Brown Robyn, It’s for nae gude ye did to me; But a’ is for your fair confession You’ve made upon the sea.’

FOOTNOTES:

[199] kevels = lots.

22. The Cruel Mother

I

She lean’d her back unto a thorn; Fine flowers in the valley And there she has her two babes born, And the green leaves they grow rarely.

II

She’s ta’en the ribbon frae her hair, And bound their bodies fast and sair.

III

‘Smile na sae sweet, my bonny babes, An’ ye smile sae sweet, ye’ll smile me dead.

IV

‘And, O bonny babes, if ye suck sair, Ye’ll never suck by my side mair.’

V

She’s ta’en out her little penknife And twinn’d[200] the sweet babes o’ their life.

VI

She’s howket a grave baith deep and wide, And there she’s buried them side by side.

VII

She’s buried them baith beneath the brier, And washed her hands wi’ mony a tear.

VIII

‘O ay, my God, as I look to thee, My babes be atween my God and me!

IX

‘And ay their smiles wad win me in, But I am borne down by deadly sin.’

X

She’s cover’d them o’er wi’ a marble stane, Thinking she wad gang maiden hame.

XI

She lookit out owre her castle wa’ And saw twa naked boys play at the ba’.

XII

‘O bonny boys, gin ye were mine I wad cleed[201] you in silk and sabelline[202].

XIII

‘O I would dress you in the silk, And wash you ay in morning milk.’—

XIV

‘O mother dear, when we were thine, You didna prove to us sae kind.

XV

‘O cruel mother, we were thine And thou made us to wear the twine[203].

XVI

‘But now we’re in the heavens hie, Fine flowers in the valley And ye have the pains o’ hell to drie’— And the green leaves they grow rarely; Ten thousand times good night and be wi’ thee!

FOOTNOTES:

[200] twinn’d = robbed, deprived.

[201] cleed = clothe.

[202] sabelline = sable.

[203] twine = twine-cloth, shroud.

23. Binnorie

I

There were twa sisters sat in a bour; Binnorie, O Binnorie! There cam a knight to be their wooer, By the bonnie milldams o’ Binnorie.

II

He courted the eldest with glove and ring, But he lo’ed the youngest abune a’ thing.

III

The eldest she was vexèd sair, And sair envìed her sister fair.

IV

Upon a morning fair and clear, She cried upon her sister dear:

V

‘O sister, sister, tak my hand, And we’ll see our father’s ships to land.’

VI

She’s ta’en her by the lily hand, And led her down to the river-strand.

VII

The youngest stood upon a stane, The eldest cam and push’d her in.

VIII

‘O sister, sister, reach your hand! And ye sall be heir o’ half my land:

IX

‘O sister, reach me but your glove! And sweet William sall be your love.’—

X

‘Foul fa’ the hand that I should take; It twin’d[204] me o’ my warldis make[205].

XI

‘Your cherry cheeks and your yellow hair Gar’d me gang maiden evermair.’

XII

Sometimes she sank, sometimes she swam, Until she cam to the miller’s dam.

XIII

Out then cam the miller’s son, And saw the fair maid soummin’[206] in.

XIV

‘O father, father, draw your dam! There’s either a mermaid or a milk-white swan.’

XV

The miller hasted and drew his dam, And there he found a drown’d woman.

XVI

You couldna see her middle sma’, Her gowden girdle was sae braw.

XVII

You couldna see her lily feet, Her gowden fringes were sae deep.

XVIII

You couldna see her yellow hair For the strings o’ pearls was twisted there.

XIX

You couldna see her fingers sma’, Wi’ diamond rings they were cover’d a’.

XX

And by there cam a harper fine, That harpit to the king at dine.

XXI

And when he look’d that lady on, He sigh’d and made a heavy moan.

XXII

He’s made a harp of her breast-bane, Whose sound wad melt a heart of stane.

XXIII

He’s ta’en three locks o’ her yellow hair, And wi’ them strung his harp sae rare.

XXIV

He went into her father’s hall, And there was the court assembled all.

XXV

He laid his harp upon a stane, And straight it began to play by lane[207].

XXVI

‘O yonder sits my father, the King, And yonder sits my mother, the Queen;

XXVII

‘And yonder stands my brother Hugh, And by him my William, sweet and true.’

XXVIII

But the last tune that the harp play’d then— Binnorie, O Binnorie! Was, ‘Woe to my sister, false Helèn!’ By the bonnie milldams o’ Binnorie.

FOOTNOTES:

[204] twin’d = robbed, deprived.

[205] my warldis make = my one mate in the world.

[206] soummin’ = swimming.

[207] by lane = alone, of itself.

24. The Broomfield Hill

I

There was a knight and a lady bright Set trysts[208] amang the broom, The ane to come at morning ear[209], The other at afternoon.

II

‘I’ll wager, I’ll wager, I’ll wager wi’ you Five hundred merks and ten That a maid shanna gae to the bonny broom And a maiden return again.’—

III

‘I’ll wager, I’ll wager, I’ll wager wi’ you Five hundred merks and ten That a maid shall gae to the bonny green broom And a maiden return again.’

IV

The may she sat at her mother’s bower door And aye she made her mane: ‘O whether shou’d I gang to the Broomfield Hill, Or should I stay at hame?

V

‘For if I do gang to the Broomfield Hill, A maid I’ll not return; But if I stay frae the Broomfield Hill, My love will ca’ me man-sworn.’

VI

Up then spake an auld witch-wife, Sat in the bower abune: ‘O ye may gang to the Broomfield Hill, And yet come maiden hame,

VII

‘For when ye gang to the Broomfield Hill, Ye’ll find your love asleep, Wi’ a silver belt above his head, And a broom-cow[210] at his feet.

VIII

‘Tak’ ye the bloom frae aff the broom, Strew’t at his head an’ feet, And aye the thicker that ye do strew, The sounder he will sleep.

IX

‘Tak’ ye the rings aff your fingers, Put them in his right hand, To let him know when he does wake, His love was at his command.’

X

Lord John has ta’en his milk-white steed And his hawk wi’ his bells sae bright, And he’s ridden swift to the Broomfield Hill, [Was never a baulder] knight.

XI

‘Now rest, now rest, my milk-white steed, My lady will soon be here, And I’ll lay my head by this rose sae red, And the bonny burn sae near.’

XII

She’s pu’d the broom-flower on Hive Hill, And strew’d on ’s white breast-bane, And that was to be wittering[211] true That maiden she had gane.

XIII

‘O where were ye, my milk-white steed, That I hae coft[212] sae dear, That wadna watch and waken me When there was maiden here?’—

XIV

‘I stampèd wi’ my foot, master, And gar’d my bridle ring, But no kin’ thing wald waken ye Till she was past and gane.’—

XV

‘And wae betide ye, my gay goss-hawk, That I hae coft sae dear, That wadna watch an’ waken me When my true-love was here.’—

XVI

‘I clappèd wi’ my wings, master, And aye my bells I rang, And aye cried, Waken, waken, master, Before the ladye gang!’—

XVII

‘But haste, but haste, my gude white steed, To come the maiden till, Or a’ the birds of the gude greenwood O’ your flesh shall have their fill!’—

XVIII

‘Ye needna burst your gude white steed Wi’ racing o’er the howm[213]; Nae bird flies faster thro’ the wood Than she fled thro’ the broom.’

FOOTNOTES:

[208] trysts = assignations.

[209] ear = early.

[210] broom-cow = branch of broom.

[211] wittering = information, token.

[212] coft = bought.

[213] howm = holm, river-mead.

25. Earl Mar’s Daughter

I

It was intill a pleasant time, Upon a simmer’s day, The noble Earl Mar’s daughter Went forth to sport and play.

II

And while she play’d and sported Below a green aik tree, There she saw a sprightly doo[214] Set on a tower sae hie.

III

‘O Coo-me-doo, my love sae true, If ye’ll come doun to me, Ye’se hae a cage o’ gude red gowd Instead o’ simple tree.

IV

‘I’ll put gowd hingers[215] roun’ your cage, And siller roun’ your wa’; I’ll gar ye shine as fair a bird As ony o’ them a’.’

V

But she had nae these words well spoke, Nor yet these words well said, Till Coo-me-doo flew frae the tower And lichted on her head.

VI

Then she has brought this pretty bird Hame to her bowers and ha’, And made him shine as fair a bird As ony o’ them a’.

VII

When day was gone, and night was come, About the evening-tide, This lady spied a gallant youth Stand straight up by her side.

VIII

‘From whence cam’ ye, young man?’ she said; ‘That does surprise me sair; My door was bolted right secure, What way hae ye come here?’—

IX

‘O haud your tongue, ye lady fair, Lat a’ your folly be; Mind ye not o’ your turtle-doo Ye wiled from aff the tree?’—

X

‘What country come ye frae?’ she said, ‘An’ what’s your pedigree?’— ‘O it was but this verra day That I cam’ ower the sea.

XI

‘My mither lives on foreign isles, A queen o’ high degree; And by her spells I am a doo With you to live an’ dee.’—

XII

‘O Coo-me-doo, my love sae true, Nae mair frae me ye’se gae.’— ‘That’s never my intent, my love; As ye said, it shall be sae.’

XIII

Then he has stay’d in bower wi’ her For six lang years and ane, Till six young sons to him she bare, And the seventh she’s brought hame.

XIV

But aye, as ever a child was born, He carried them away, And brought them to his mither’s care As fast as he could fly.

XV

When he had stay’d in bower wi’ her For seven lang years an’ mair There cam’ a lord o’ high renown To court this lady fair.

XVI

But still his proffer she refused And a’ his presents too; Says, ‘I’m content to live alane Wi’ my bird Coo-me-doo.’

XVII

Her father swore a michty oath Amang the nobles all, ‘The morn, or ere I eat or drink, This bird I will gar kill.’

XVIII

The bird was sitting in his cage And heard what they did say; Says, ‘Wae is me, and you forlorn, If I do langer stay!’

XIX

Then Coo-me-doo took flight and flew And afar beyond the sea, And lichted near his mither’s castle On a tower o’ gowd sae hie.

XX

His mither she was walking out To see what she could see, And there she saw her one young son Set on the tower sae hie.

XXI

‘Get dancers here to dance,’ she said, ‘And minstrels for to play; For here’s my young son Florentine Come hame wi’ me to stay.’—

XXII

‘Get nae dancers to dance, mither, Nor minstrels for to play; For the mither o’ my seven sons, The morn’s her wedding-day.’—

XXIII

‘O tell me, tell me, Florentine, Tell me, an tell me true; Tell me this day without a flaw What I will do for you?’—

XXIV

‘Instead of dancers to dance, mither, Or minstrels for to play, Turn four-and-twenty well-wight[216] men Like storks in feathers gray:

XXV

‘My seven sons in seven swans Aboon their heads to flee; And I mysel’ a gay goshawk, A bird o’ high degree.’

XXVI

Then siching said the Queen hersel’, ‘That thing’s too high for me!’ But she applied to an auld woman Wha had mair skill than she.

XXVII

Instead o’ dancers to dance a dance, Or minstrels for to play, Four-and-twenty well-wight men Turn’d birds o’ feathers gray.

XXVIII

Her seven sons in seven swans, Aboon their heads to flee; And he himsel’ a gay goshawk, A bird o’ high degree.

XXIX

This flock o’ birds took flight and flew Beyond the raging sea, And landed near the Earl Mar’s castle, Took shelter in every tree.

XXX

They were a flock o’ pretty birds Right comely to be seen; The people view’d them wi’ surprise As they dancèd on the green.

XXXI

These birds flew out frae every tree And lichted on the ha’, And [frae the roof] with force did flee Amang the nobles a’.

XXXII

The storks there seized [ilk wedding-guest] —They could not fight nor flee; The swans they bound the [bridegroom fast] Below a green aik tree.

XXXIII

They lichted next on the [bride-] maidens, Then on the bride’s own head; And wi’ the twinkling o’ an e’e The bride an’ them were fled.

XXXIV

There’s ancient men at weddings been For sixty years or more, But siccan a curious wedding-day They never saw before.

XXXV

For naething could the companie do, Nor naething could they say; But they saw a flock o’ pretty birds That took their bride away.

FOOTNOTES:

[214] doo = dove.

[215] hingers = hangings, curtains.

[216] well-wight = strong, lusty.

26. Proud Lady Margaret

I

Fair Margret was a proud ladye, The King’s cousin was she; Fair Margret was a rich ladye, An’ vain as vain cou’d be.

II

Ae night she sat in her stately ha’ Kaimin’ her yellow hair, When in there cam’ a gentle Knight, An’ a white scarf he did wear.

III

‘O what’s your will wi’ me, Sir Knight? O what’s your will wi’ me? You’re the likest to my ae brither That ever I did see.

IV

‘You’re the likest to my ae brither That ever I hae seen; But he’s buried in Dunfermline kirk A month an’ mair bygane.’—

V

‘I’m the likest to your ae brither That ever ye did see; But I canna get rest in my grave, A’ for the pride o’ thee.

VI

‘Leave pride, Margret, leave pride, Margret, Leave pride an’ vanity; Cou’d ye see the sights that I hae seen Sair warnèd ye wou’d be.

VII

‘For the wee worms are my bedfellows, An’ cauld clay is my sheets, An’ when the stormy winds do blow My body lies and sleeps.

VIII

‘O ye come in at the kirk-door Wi’ the red gowd on your crown; But when you come where I have been, You’ll wear it laigher[217] down.

IX

‘O ye come in at the kirk door Wi’ the gowd prins[218] i’ your sleeve, But when you come where I have been Ye maun gie them a’ their leave.

X

‘Leave pride, Margret, leave pride, Margret, Leave pride an’ vanity; Ere ye see the sights that I hae seen, Sair alter’d ye maun be.’

XI

He got her in her stately ha’, Kaimin’ her yellow hair; He left her on her sick, sick bed Mournin’ her sins sae sair.

FOOTNOTES:

[217] laigher = lower.

[218] prins = pins.

27. Clerk Saunders

Part I

I

Clerk Saunders and may Margaret Walk’d owre yon garden green; And deep and heavy was the love That fell thir twa between.

II

‘A bed, a bed,’ Clerk Saunders said, ‘A bed for you and me!’ ‘Fye na, fye na,’ said may Margaret, ‘Till anes we married be!’—

III

‘Then I’ll take the sword frae my scabbard And slowly lift the pin; And you may swear, and save your aith, Ye ne’er let Clerk Saunders in.

IV

‘Take you a napkin in your hand, And tie up baith your bonnie e’en, And you may swear, and save your aith, Ye saw me na since late yestreen.’

V

It was about the midnight hour, When they asleep were laid, When in and came her seven brothers, Wi’ torches burning red:

VI

When in and came her seven brothers, Wi’ torches burning bright: They said, ‘We hae but one sister, And behold her lying with a knight!’

VII

Then out and spake the first o’ them, ‘I bear the sword shall gar him die.’ And out and spake the second o’ them, ‘His father has nae mair but he.’

VIII

And out and spake the third o’ them, ‘I wot that they are lovers dear.’ And out and spake the fourth o’ them, ‘They hae been in love this mony a year.’

IX

Then out and spake the fifth o’ them, ‘It were great sin true love to twain.’ And out and spake the sixth o’ them, ‘It were shame to slay a sleeping man.’

X

Then up and gat the seventh o’ them, And never a word spake he; But he has striped[219] his bright brown brand Out through Clerk Saunders’ fair bodye.

XI

Clerk Saunders he started, and Margaret she turn’d Into his arms as asleep she lay; And sad and silent was the night That was atween thir twae.

XII

And they lay still and sleepit sound Until the day began to daw’; And kindly she to him did say, ‘It is time, true love, you were awa’.’

XIII

But he lay still, and sleepit sound, Albeit the sun began to sheen; She look’d atween her and the wa’, And dull and drowsie were his e’en.

XIV

Then in and came her father dear; Said, ‘Let a’ your mourning be; I’ll carry the dead corse to the clay, And I’ll come back and comfort thee.’

XV

‘Comfort weel your seven sons, For comforted I will never be: I ween ’twas neither knave nor loon Was in the bower last night wi’ me.’

Part II

I

The clinking bell gaed through the town, To carry the dead corse to the clay; And Clerk Saunders stood at may Margaret’s window, I wot, an hour before the day.

II

‘Are ye sleeping, Marg’ret?’ he says, ‘Or are ye waking presentlie? Give me my faith and troth again, I wot, true love, I gied to thee.’

III

‘Your faith and troth ye sall never get, Nor our true love sall never twin[220], Until ye come within my bower, And kiss me cheik and chin.’

IV

‘My mouth it is full cold, Marg’ret; It has the smell, now, of the ground; And if I kiss thy comely mouth, Thy days of life will not be lang.

V

‘O cocks are crowing on merry middle-earth, I wot the wild fowls are boding day; Give me my faith and troth again, And let me fare me on my way.’

VI

‘Thy faith and troth thou sallna get, And our true love sall never twin, Until ye tell what comes o’ women, I wot, who die in strong traivelling?’

VII

‘Their beds are made in the heavens high, Down at the foot of our good Lord’s knee, Weel set about wi’ gillyflowers; I wot, sweet company for to see.

VIII

‘O cocks are crowing on merry middle-earth, I wot the wild fowls are boding day; The psalms of heaven will soon be sung, And I, ere now, will be miss’d away.’

IX

Then she has taken a crystal wand, And she has stroken her troth thereon; She has given it him out at the shot-window, Wi’ mony a sad sigh and heavy groan.

X

‘I thank ye, Marg’ret; I thank ye, Marg’ret; And ay I thank ye heartilie; Gin ever the dead come for the quick, Be sure, Marg’ret, I’ll come for thee.’

XI

It’s hosen and shoon, and gown alone, She climb’d the wall, and follow’d him, Until she came to the green forèst, And there she lost the sight o’ him.

XII

‘Is there ony room at your head, Saunders? Is there ony room at your feet? Or ony room at your side, Saunders, Where fain, fain, I wad sleep?’

XIII

‘There’s nae room at my head, Marg’ret, There’s nae room at my feet; My bed it is fu’ lowly now, Amang the hungry worms I sleep.

XIV

‘Cauld mould is my covering now, But and my winding-sheet; The dew it falls nae sooner down Than my resting-place is weet.

XV

‘But plait a wand o’ bonny birk, And lay it on my breast; And shed a tear upon my grave, And wish my saul gude rest.’

XVI

Then up and crew the red, red cock, And up and crew the gray: ‘’Tis time, ’tis time, my dear Marg’ret, That you were going away.

XVII

‘And fair Marg’ret, and rare Marg’ret, And Marg’ret o’ veritie, Gin e’er ye love another man, Ne’er love him as ye did me.’

FOOTNOTES:

[219] striped = thrust.

[220] twin = break in two.

28. The Daemon Lover

I

‘O where hae ye been, my long, long love, These seven long years and more?’— ‘O I’m come to seek my former vows, That ye promised me before.’—

II

‘Awa’ wi’ your former vows,’ she says, ‘For they will breed but strife; Awa’ wi’ your former vows,’ she says, ‘For I am become a wife.

III

‘I am married to a ship-carpenter, A ship-carpenter he’s bound; I wadna he kenn’d my mind this nicht For twice five hundred pound.’

IV

He turn’d him round and round about, And the tear blinded his e’e: ‘I wad never hae trodden on Irish ground If it hadna been for thee.

V

‘I might hae had a noble lady, Far, far beyond the sea; I might hae had a noble lady, Were it no for the love o’ thee.’—

VI

‘If ye might hae had a noble lady, Yoursel’ ye had to blame; Ye might hae taken the noble lady, For ye kenn’d that I was nane.’—

VII

‘O fause are the vows o’ womankind, But fair is their fause bodie: I wad never hae trodden on Irish ground, Were it no for the love o’ thee.’—

VIII

‘If I was to leave my husband dear, And my wee young son alsua, O what hae ye to tak’ me to, If with you I should gae?’—

IX

‘I hae seven ships upon the sea, The eighth brought me to land; With mariners and merchandise, And music on every hand.

X

‘The ship wherein my love sall sail Is glorious to behowd; The sails sall be o’ the finest silk, And the mast o’ beaten gowd.’

XI

She has taken up her wee young son, Kiss’d him baith cheek and chin; ‘O fare ye weel, my wee young son, For I’ll never see you again!’

XII

She has put her foot on gude ship-board, And on ship-board she has gane, And the veil that hangit ower her face Was a’ wi’ gowd begane[221].

XIII

She hadna sail’d a league, a league, A league but barely twa, Till she minded on her husband she left And her wee young son alsua.

XIV

‘O haud your tongue o’ weeping,’ he says, ‘Let a’ your follies a-bee; I’ll show where the white lilies grow On the banks o’ Italie.’

XV

She hadna sail’d a league, a league, A league but barely three, Till grim, grim grew his countenance And gurly[222] grew the sea.

XVI

‘What hills are yon, yon pleasant hills, The sun shines sweetly on?’— ‘O yon are the hills o’ Heaven,’ he said, ‘Where you will never won.’—

XVII

‘O whaten-a mountain is yon,’ she said, ‘Sae dreary wi’ frost and snae[223]?’— ‘O yon is the mountain o’ Hell,’ he said, ‘Where you and I will gae.

XVIII

‘But haud your tongue, my dearest dear, Let a’ your follies a-bee, I’ll show where the white lilies grow, In the bottom o’ the sea.’

XIX

And aye as she turn’d her round about, Aye taller he seem’d to be; Until that the tops o’ that gallant ship Nae taller were than he.

XX

He strack the top-mast wi’ his hand, The fore-mast wi’ his knee; And he brake that gallant ship in twain, And sank her in the sea.

FOOTNOTES:

[221] begane = overlaid.

[222] gurly = rough, surly.

[223] snae = snow.

29. Clerk Colven

I

Clerk Colven, and his gay ladie, As they walk’d in yon garden green, The belt about her middle jimp[224] It cost Clerk Colven crowns fifteen.

II

‘O hearken weel now, my good lord, O hearken weel to what I say; When ye gang to the wall[225] o’ Stream O gang nae near the weel-faur’d may[226].’

III

‘O haud your tongue, my gay ladie, Now speak nae mair of that to me; For I nae saw a fair woman [That I cou’d] like so well as thee.’

IV

He’s mounted on his berry-brown steed, And merry, merry rade he on, Till that he came to the wall o’ Stream, And there he saw the mermaiden.

V

‘Ye wash, ye wash, ye bonny may, And ay’s ye wash your sark o’ silk.’— ‘It’s a’ for ye, you gentle knight, My skin is whiter than the milk.’

VI

He’s ta’en her by the milk-white hand, He’s ta’en her by the sleeve sae green, And he’s forgotten his gay ladie, And he’s awa’ wi’ the mermaiden.

VII

—‘Ohone, alas!’ says Clerk Colven, ‘And aye so sair as akes my head!’ And merrily leugh[227] the mermaiden, ‘O ’twill win on[228] till you be dead.

VIII

‘But out ye tak’ your little pen-knife, And frae my sark ye shear a gare[229]; Row[230] that about your lovely head, And the pain ye’ll never feel nae mair.’

IX

Out he has ta’en his little pen-knife, And frae her sark he’s shorn a gare; She’s ty’d it round his whey-white face, But and ay his head it akèd mair.

X

‘Ohone, alas!’ says Clerk Colven, ‘O sairer, sairer akes my head!’— ‘And sairer, sairer ever will, And aye be war’[231] till ye be dead.’

XI

Then out he drew his shining blade And thought wi’ it to be her deid[232], But she’s become a fish again, And merrily sprang into the fleed[233].

XII

He’s mounted on his berry-brown steed, And dowie[234], dowie rade he hame, And heavily, heavily lighted down When to his ladie’s bower he came.

XIII

‘O mither, mither, mak’ my bed, And, gentle ladie, lay me down; O brither, brither, unbend my bow, ’Twill never be bent by me again!’

XIV

His mither she has made his bed, His gentle ladie laid him down, His brither he has unbent his bow, —’Twas never bent by him again.

FOOTNOTES:

[224] jimp = slim, slender.

[225] wall = well.

[226] weel-faur’d may = well-favoured maiden.

[227] leugh = laughed.

[228] win on = continue.

[229] gare = gore, strip.

[230] row = roll, wrap.

[231] war’ = worse.

[232] deid = death.

[233] fleed = flood.

[234] dowie = dolefully.

30. Young Hunting

I

‘O lady, rock never your young son young One hour longer for me; For I have a sweetheart in Gareloch Wells I love thrice better than thee.

II

‘The very sole o’ that lady’s foot, Than thy face is mair white.’— ‘But nevertheless now, Young Hunting, Ye’ll bide in my bower this night?’

III

She has birl’d[235] in him Young Hunting The good ale and the wine, Till he was as fou drunken As any wild-wood swine.

IV

[She has kiss’d him by] the candle-light And the charcoal burning red, And up she has ta’en Young Hunting, And she’s had him to her bed.

V

And she’s minded her on a little pen-knife That hang’d below her gare[236], And she has gi’en Young Hunting A deep wound and a sair.

VI

Then up and spake the popinjay That flew abune her head: ‘Lady, keep well your green cleiding[237] Frae good Young Hunting’s bleid!’—

VII

‘O better I’ll keep my green cleiding Frae good Young Hunting’s bleid Than thou canst keep thy clattering tongue That trattles in thy head.’

VIII

‘O lang, lang is the winter’s night, And slowly daws[238] the day! There lies a dead man in my bower, And I wish he were away.’

IX

She has call’d upon her bower-maidens, She has call’d them ane by ane: ‘There lies a dead man in my bower, I wish that he were gane.’

X

They have booted and spurr’d Young Hunting As he was wont to ride— A hunting-horn about his neck, And a sharp sword by his side; And they’ve had him to the wan water, Where a’ men ca’s it Clyde.

XI

In the deepest pot of Clyde-water It’s there they flang him in, And put a turf on his breast-bane To hold Young Hunting down.

XII

Then up and spake the popinjay That sat upon the tree; ‘Gae hame, gae hame, ye fause lady, And pay your maids their fee.’—

XIII

‘Come down, come down, my pretty bird, That sits upon the tree; I have a cage o’ beaten gold, I’ll gie it unto thee.’—

XIV

‘How shall I come down, how can I come down, How shall I come down to thee? The things ye said to Young Hunting, The same ye’re saying to me.’

XV

She hadna cross’d a rigg[239] o’ land, A rigg but barely ane, When she met wi’ his auld father, Came riding all alane.

XVI

‘Where has ye been, now, lady fair, Where has ye been sae late? We hae been seeking Young Hunting, But him we canna get.’—

XVII

‘Young Hunting kens a’ the fords o’ Clyde, He’ll ride them ane by ane; And though the night was ne’er so mirk, Young Hunting will be hame.’

XVIII

O there came seeking Young Hunting Mony a lord and knight, And there came seeking Young Hunting Mony a lady bright.

XIX

And it fell ance upon a day The King was bound to ride, And he has miss’d Young Hunting, Should hae ridden on his right side.

XX

And they have to his true love gane; But she sware by the thorn, ‘O I have not seen Young Hunting Since yesterday at morn.

XXI

‘It fears me sair in Clyde Water That he is drown’d therein!’ O they have sent for the King’s divers, To dive for Young Hunting.

XXII

‘Gar dive, gar dive!’ the King he cried, ‘Gar dive for gold and fee! O wha will dive for Young Hunting’s sake, Or wha will dive for me?’

XXIII

They dived in at the tae water-bank, They dived in at the tither: ‘We can dive no more for Young Hunting, Altho’ he were our brither.’

XXIV

It fell that in that lady’s castle The King was boun to bed, And out it spake the popinjay That flew abune his head:

XXV

‘Leave off, leave off, your day diving, And dive upon the night; And where that sackless[240] Knight lies slain The candles will burn bright.’

XXVI

They left their diving on the day, And dived upon the night; And over the place Young Hunting lay The candles shone fu’ bright.

XXVII

The deepest pot in Clyde Water They got Young Hunting in, With a green turf tied across his breast To keep that good lord down.

XXVIII

Then up and spake the King himsel’, When he saw the deadly wound: ‘O wha has slain my right-hand man, That held my hawk and hound?’

XXIX

Then up and spake the popinjay, Says, ‘What needs a’ this din? It was his light leman took his life, And hided him in the linn[241].’

XXX

She sware her by the grass sae green, So did she by the corn, She hadna seen Young Hunting Since Monanday at morn.

XXXI

‘Put not the wyte[242] on me,’ she says, ‘It was my May[243] Catheren.’ Then they have cut baith thorn and fern, To burn that maiden in.

XXXII

When they had ta’en her May Catheren, In the bonfire set her in; It wouldna take upon her cheeks, Nor yet upon her chin, Nor yet upon her yellow hair, To heal the deadly sin.

XXXIII

Out they have ta’en her May Catheren, And put the lady in: O it took upon her cheek, her cheek, Took fast upon her chin, Took fast upon her fair body— She burnt like hollins[244] green.

FOOTNOTES:

[235] birl’d = poured.

[236] gare = gore, in the skirt.

[237] cleiding = clothing.

[238] daws = dawns.

[239] rigg = ridge.

[240] sackless = innocent.

[241] linn = stream, pool.

[242] wyte = blame.

[243] May = Maid.

[244] hollins = holly.

31. The Great Silkie of Sule Skerrie

I

An earthly nourrice[245] sits and sings, And aye she sings, ‘Ba, lily wean! Little ken I my bairn’s father, Far less the land that he staps in.’

II

Then ane arose at her bed-fit, An’ a grumly guest I’m sure was he: ‘Here am I, thy bairn’s father, Although that I be not comèlie.

III

‘I am a man, upo’ the lan’, An’ I am a silkie[246] in the sea; And when I’m far and far frae lan’, My dwelling is in Sule Skerrie.’

IV

‘It was na weel,’ quo’ the maiden fair, ‘It was na weel, indeed,’ quo’ she, ‘That the Great Silkie of Sule Skerrie Suld hae come and aught[247] a bairn to me.’

V

Now he has ta’en a purse of goud, And he has pat it upo’ her knee, Sayin’, ‘Gie to me my little young son, An’ tak thee up thy nourrice-fee.

VI

‘An’ it sall pass on a simmer’s day, When the sin shines het on evera stane, That I will tak my little young son, An’ teach him for to swim his lane[248].

VII

‘An’ thu sall marry a proud gunner, An’ a proud gunner I’m sure he’ll be, An’ the very first schot that ere he schoots, He’ll schoot baith my young son and me.’

FOOTNOTES:

[245] nourrice = nurse.

[246] silkie = seal.

[247] aught = own.

[248] his lane = alone, without assistance.

32. The Wife of Usher’s Well

I

There lived a wife at Usher’s well, And a wealthy wife was she; She had three stout and stalwart sons, And sent them o’er the sea.

II

They hadna been a week from her, A week but barely ane, When word came to the carline[249] wife That her three sons were gane.

III

They hadna been a week from her, A week but barely three, When word came to the carline wife That her sons she’d never see.

IV

‘I wish the wind may never cease, Nor fashes[250] in the flood, Till my three sons come hame to me In earthly flesh and blood!’

V

It fell about the Martinmas, When nights are lang and mirk, The carline wife’s three sons came hame, And their hats were o’ the birk.

VI

It neither grew in syke[251] nor ditch, Nor yet in ony sheugh[252]; But at the gates o’ Paradise That birk grew fair eneugh.

VII

‘Blow up the fire, my maidens! Bring water from the well! For a’ my house shall feast this night, Since my three sons are well.’

VIII

And she has made to them a bed, She’s made it large and wide; And she’s ta’en her mantle her about, Sat down at the bedside.

IX

Up then crew the red, red cock, And up and crew the gray; The eldest to the youngest said, ‘’Tis time we were away.’

X

The cock he hadna craw’d but once, And clapp’d his wings at a’, When the youngest to the eldest said, ‘Brother, we must awa’.

XI

‘The cock doth craw, the day doth daw, The channerin’[253] worm doth chide; Gin we be miss’d out o’ our place, A sair pain we maun bide.’—

XII

‘Lie still, lie still but a little wee while, Lie still but if we may; Gin my mother should miss us when she wakes, She’ll go mad ere it be day.’—

XIII

‘Fare ye weel, my mother dear! Fareweel to barn and byre! And fare ye weel, the bonny lass That kindles my mother’s fire!’

FOOTNOTES:

[249] carline = old woman.

[250] fashes = troubles.

[251] syke = marsh.

[252] sheugh = trench.

[253] channerin’ = fretting.

33. A Lyke-Wake Dirge

I

This ae nighte, this ae nighte, —Every nighte and alle, Fire and fleet[254] and candle-lighte, And Christe receive thy saule.

II

When thou from hence away art past, —Every nighte and alle, To Whinny-muir thou com’st at last: And Christe receive thy saule.

III

If ever thou gavest hosen and shoon, —Every nighte and alle, Sit thee down and put them on: And Christe receive thy saule.

IV

If hosen and shoon thou ne’er gav’st nane —Every nighte and alle, The whinnes sall prick thee to the bare bane; And Christe receive thy saule.

V

From whinny-muir when thou may’st pass, —Every nighte and alle, To Brig o’ Dread thou com’st at last; And Christe receive thy saule.

VI

From Brig o’ Dread when thou may’st pass, —Every nighte and alle, To Purgatory fire thou com’st at last; And Christe receive thy saule.

VII

If ever thou gavest meat or drink, —Every nighte and alle, The fire sall never make thee shrink; And Christe receive thy saule.

VIII

If meat or drink thou ne’er gav’st nane, —Every nighte and alle, The fire will burn thee to the bare bane; And Christe receive thy saule.

IX

This ae nighte, this ae nighte, —Every nighte and alle, Fire and fleet and candle-lighte, And Christe receive thy saule.

FOOTNOTES:

[254] fleet = floor. Other readings are ‘sleet’ and ‘salt’.

34. The Unquiet Grave

I

‘The wind doth blow to-day, my love, And a few small drops of rain; I never had but one true-love; In cold grave she was lain.

II

‘I’ll do as much for my true-love As any young man may; I’ll sit and mourn all at her grave For a twelvemonth and a day.’

III

The twelvemonth and a day being up, The dead began to speak: ‘Oh who sits weeping on my grave, And will not let me sleep?’—

IV

‘’Tis I, my love, sits on your grave, And will not let you sleep; For I crave one kiss of your clay-cold lips, And that is all I seek.’—

V

‘You crave one kiss of my clay-cold lips; But my breath smells earthy strong; If you have one kiss of my clay-cold lips, Your time will not be long.

VI

‘’Tis down in yonder garden green, Love, where we used to walk, The finest flower that ere was seen Is wither’d to a stalk.

VII

‘The stalk is wither’d dry, my love, So will our hearts decay; So make yourself content, my love, Till God calls you away.’

BOOK II

35. Hynd Horn

I

Hynd Horn’s bound, love, and Hynd Horn’s free, With a hey lillelu and a how lo lan; Where was ye born, or in what countrie? And the birk and the broom blows bonnie.

II

‘In good greenwood, there I was born, And all my forbears me beforn.

III

‘O seven long years I served the King, And as for wages I never gat nane;

IV

‘But ae sight o’ his ae daughter. And that was thro’ an auger-bore.’

V

Seven long years he served the King, And it’s a’ for the sake of his daughter Jean.

VI

The King an angry man was he; He sent young Hynd Horn to the sea.

VII

He’s gi’en his luve a silver wand Wi’ seven silver laverocks[255] sittin’ thereon.

VIII

She’s gi’en to him a gay gold ring Wi’ seven bright diamonds set therein.

IX

‘As lang’s these diamonds keep their hue, Ye’ll know I am a lover true:

X

‘But when the ring turns pale and wan, Ye may ken that I love anither man.’

XI

He hoist up sails and awa’ sail’d he Till that he came to a foreign countrie.

XII

One day as he look’d his ring upon, He saw the diamonds pale and wan.

XIII

He’s left the seas and he’s come to the land, And the first that he met was an auld beggar man.

XIV

‘What news, what news? thou auld beggar man, For it’s seven years sin I’ve seen land.’

XV

‘No news,’ said the beggar, ‘no news at a’, But there is a wedding in the King’s ha’.

XVI

‘But there is a wedding in the King’s ha’ That has halden these forty days and twa.’

XVII

‘Cast off, cast off thy auld beggar weed[256], And I’ll gi’e thee my gude grey steed:

XVIII

‘And lend to me your wig o’ hair To cover mine, because it is fair.’—

XIX

‘My begging weed is na for thee, Your riding steed is na for me.’

XX

But part by right and part by wrang Hynd Horn has changed wi’ the beggar man.

XXI

The auld beggar man was bound for to ride, But young Hynd Horn was bound for the bride.

XXII

When he came to the King’s gate, He sought a drink for Hynd Horn’s sake.

XXIII

The bride came trippin’ down the stair, Wi’ the scales o’ red gowd in her hair;

XXIV

Wi’ a cup o’ the red wine in her hand, And that she gae to the auld beggar man.

XXV

Out o’ the cup he drank the wine, And into the cup he dropt the ring.

XXVI

‘O got ye this by sea or land? Or got ye it of a dead man’s hand?’—

XXVII

‘I got it na by sea nor land, But I got it, madam, of your own hand.’

XXVIII

‘O, I’ll cast off my gowns o’ brown, And beg with you frae town to town.

XXIX

‘O, I’ll cast off my gowns o’ red, And I’ll beg wi’ you to win my bread.

XXX

‘O I’ll take the scales o’ gowd frae my hair, And I’ll follow you for evermair.’

XXXI

She has cast awa’ the brown and the red, And she’s follow’d him to beg her bread.

XXXII

She has ta’en the scales o’ gowd frae her hair And she’s follow’d him for evermair.

XXXIII

But atween the kitchen and the ha’ He has let his cloutie[257] cloak down fa’.

XXXIV

And the red gowd shinèd over him a’, With a hey lillelu, and a how lo lan; And the bride frae the bridegroom was stown[258] awa’, And the birk and the broom blows bonnie.

FOOTNOTES:

[255] laverocks = larks.

[256] weed = clothes.

[257] cloutie = full of clouts, patched.

[258] stown = stolen.

36. Hynd Etin

I

May Margaret sits in her bower door Sewing her silken seam; She heard a note in Elmond’s wood, And wish’d she there had been.

II

She loot[259] the seam fa’ frae her side, The needle to her tae[260], And she is on to Elmond’s wood As fast as she could gae.

III

She hadna pu’d a nut, a nut, Nor broken a branch but ane, Till by there came the Hynd Etin, Says, ‘Lady, lat alane.

IV

‘O why pu’ ye the nut, the nut, Or why break ye the tree? For I am forester o’ this wood: Ye should spier[261] leave at me.’—

V

‘I’ll ask leave at nae living man, Nor yet will I at thee; My father is king o’er a’ this realm, This wood belongs to me.’

VI

The highest tree in Elmond’s wood, He’s pu’d it by the reet[262], And he has built for her a bower Near by a hallow seat[263].

VII

He’s kept her there in Elmond’s wood For six lang years and ane, Till six pretty sons to him she bare, And the seventh she’s brought hame.

VIII

It fell out ance upon a day He’s to the hunting gane, And a’ to carry his game for him He’s tane his eldest son.

IX

‘A question I will ask, father, Gin ye wadna angry be.’— ‘Say on, say on, my bonny boy, Ye’se nae be quarrell’d by me.’

X

‘I see my mither’s cheeks aye weet, I never can see them dry; And I wonder what aileth my mither To mourn [sae constantly].’—

XI

‘Your mither was a king’s daughtèr, Sprung frae a high degree; She might hae wed some worthy prince Had she na been stown[264] by me.

XII

‘Your mither was a king’s daughtèr Of noble birth and fame, But now she’s wife o’ Hynd Etin, Wha ne’er gat christendame.

XIII

‘But we’ll shoot the buntin’ o’ the bush, The linnet o’ the tree, And ye’se tak’ them hame to your dear mither, See if she’ll merrier be.’

XIV

It fell upon anither day, He’s to the hunting gane And left his seven [young] children To stay wi’ their mither at hame.

XV

‘O I will tell to you, mither, Gin ye wadna angry be.’— ‘Speak on, speak on, my little wee boy, Ye’se nae be quarrell’d by me.’—

XVI

‘As we came frae the hind-hunting, We heard fine music ring.’— ‘My blessings on you, my bonny boy, I wish I’d been there my lane.’

XVII

They wistna weel where they were gaen, Wi’ the stratlins[265] o’ their feet; They wistna weel where they were gaen, Till at her father’s yate[266].

XVIII

‘I hae nae money in my pocket, But royal rings hae three; I’ll gie them you, my little young son, And ye’ll walk there for me.

XIX

‘Ye’ll gi’e the first to the proud portèr And he will let you in; Ye’ll gi’e the next to the butler-boy And he will show you ben[267];

XX

‘Ye’ll gi’e the third to the minstrel That plays before the King; He’ll play success to the bonny boy Came thro’ the wood him lane.’

XXI

He ga’e the first to the proud portèr And he open’d and let him in; He ga’e the next to the butler-boy, And he has shown him ben.

XXII

He ga’e the third to the minstrel That play’d before the King, And he play’d success to the bonny boy Came thro’ the wood him lane.

XXIII

Now when he came before the King, Fell low upon his knee; The King he turn’d him round about, And the saut tear blint[268] his e’e.

XXIV

‘Win up, win up, my bonny boy, Gang frae my companie; Ye look sae like my dear daughtèr, My heart will burst in three.’—

XXV

‘If I look like your dear daughtèr, A wonder it is none; If I look like your dear daughtèr, I am her eldest son.’—

XXVI

‘Will ye tell me, ye little wee boy, Where may my Margaret be?’— ‘She’s just now standing at your yates, And my six brithers her wi’.’—

XXVII

‘O where are a’ my porter-boys That I pay meat and fee, To open my yates baith wide and braid, Let her come in to me?’

XXVIII

When she cam’ in before the King, Fell low down on her knee: ‘Win up, win up, my daughter dear, This day ye’se dine wi’ me.’—

XXIX

‘Ae bit I canna eat, father, Nor ae drop can I drink, Until I see my mither dear, For lang for her I think.’

XXX

When she cam’ in before the queen, Fell low down on her knee; ‘Win up, win up, my daughter dear, This day ye’se dine wi’ me.’—

XXXI

‘Ae bit I canna eat, mither, Nor ae drop can I drink, Until I see my sister dear, For lang for her I think.’

XXXII

When that these twa sisters met, She hail’d her courteouslie; ‘Come ben, come ben, my sister dear, This day ye’se dine wi’ me.’—

XXXIII

‘Ae bit I canna eat, sister, Nor ae drop can I drink, Until I see my dear husband, So lang for him I think.’—

XXXIV

‘O where are a’ my rangers bold That I pay meat and fee, To search the forest far an’ wide, And bring Etin back to me?’

XXXV

Out it speaks the little wee boy: ‘Na, na, this mauna be; Without ye grant a free pardon, I hope ye’ll nae him see.’—

XXXVI

‘O here I grant a free pardon, Well seal’d by my own han’; Ye may mak’ search for Young Etin As soon as ever ye can.’

XXXVII

They search’d the country wide and braid, The forests far and near, And they found him into Elmond’s wood, Tearing his yellow hair.

XXXVIII

‘Win up, win up now, Hynd Etin, Win up an’ boun[269] wi’ me; We’re messengers come frae the court; The King wants you to see.’—

XXXIX

‘O lat them tak’ frae me my head, Or hang me on a tree; For since I’ve lost my dear lady, Life’s no pleasure to me.’—

XL

‘Your head will na be touch’d, Etin, Nor you hang’d on a tree; Your lady’s in her father’s court And a’ he wants is thee.’

XLI

When he cam’ in before the King, Fell low down on his knee; ‘Win up, win up now, Young Etin, This day ye’se dine wi’ me.’

XLII

But as they were at dinner set The wee boy ask’d a boon: ‘I wish we were in a good kirk For to get christendoun.

XLIII

‘For we hae lived in gude green wood This seven years and ane; But a’ this time since e’er I mind Was never a kirk within.’—

XLIV

‘Your asking’s na sae great, my boy, But granted it sall be; This day to gude kirk ye sall gang And your mither sall gang you wi’.’

XLV

When unto the gude kirk she came, She at the door did stan’; She was sae sair sunk down wi’ shame, She couldna come farther ben.

XLVI

Then out and spak’ the parish priest, And a sweet smile ga’e he: ‘Come ben, come ben, my lily-flower, Present your babes to me.’

XLVII

Charles, Vincent, Sam and Dick, And likewise John and James; They call’d the eldest Young Etin, Which was his father’s name.