Chapter X: Appendix: Lord Barnaby (1)

Scottish version of _Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard_. See p. 15.

From Jamieson's _Popular Ballads and Songs_, i. 170.

"I have a tower in Dalisberry,
Which now is dearly dight,
And I will gie it to young Musgrave
To lodge wi' me a' night."

"To lodge wi' thee a' night, fair lady, 5
Wad breed baith sorrow and strife;
For I see by the rings on your fingers,
You're good lord Barnaby's wife."

"Lord Barnaby's wife although I be,
Yet what is that to thee? 10
For we'll beguile him for this ae night--
He's on to fair Dundee.

"Come here, come here, my little foot-page,
This gold I will give thee,
If ye will keep thir secrets close 15
'Tween young Musgrave and me.

"But here I hae a little pen-knife,
Hings low down by my gare;
Gin ye winna keep thir secrets close,
Ye'll find it wonder sair." 20

Then she's ta'en him to her chamber,
And down in her arms lay he:
The boy coost aff his hose and shoon,
And ran to fair Dundee.

When he cam to the wan water, 25
He slack'd[L26] his bow and swam;
And when he cam to growin grass,
Set down his feet and ran.

And when he cam to fair Dundee,
Wad neither chap nor ca'; 30
But set his brent[L31] bow to his breast,
And merrily jump'd the wa'.

"O waken ye, waken ye, my good lord,
Waken, and come away!"--
"What ails, what ails my wee foot-page, 35
He cries sae lang ere day.

"O is my bowers brent, my boy?
Or is my castle won?
Or has the lady that I lo'e best
Brought me a daughter or son?" 40

"Your ha's are safe, your bowers are safe,
And free frae all alarms;
But, oh! the lady that ye lo'e best
Lies sound in Musgrave's arms."

"Gae saddle to me the black," he cried, 45
"Gae saddle to me the gray;
Gae saddle to me the swiftest steed,
To hie me on my way."

"O lady, I heard a wee horn toot,
And it blew wonder clear; 50
And ay the turning o' the note,
Was, 'Barnaby will be here!'

"I thought I heard a wee horn blaw,
And it blew loud and high;
And ay at ilka turn it said, 55
'Away, Musgrave, away!'"

"Lie still, my dear; lie still, my dear;
Ye keep me frae the cold;
For it is but my father's shepherds
Driving their flocks to the fold." 60

Up they lookit, and down they lay,
And they're fa'en sound asleep;
Till up stood good lord Barnaby,
Just close at their bed feet.

"How do you like my bed, Musgrave? 65
And how like ye my sheets?
And how like ye my fair lady,
Lies in your arms and sleeps?

"Weel like I your bed, my lord,
And weel like I your sheets; 70
But ill like I your fair lady,
Lies in my arms and sleeps.

"You got your wale o' se'en sisters,
And I got mine o' five;
Sae tak ye mine, and I's tak thine, 75
And we nae mair sall strive."

"O my woman's the best woman
That ever brak world's bread;
And your woman's the worst woman
That ever drew coat o'er head. 80

"I hae twa swords in ae scabbert,
They are baith sharp and clear;
Take ye the best, and I the warst,
And we'll end the matter here.

"But up, and arm thee, young Musgrave, 85
We'll try it han' to han';
It's ne'er be said o' lord Barnaby,
He strack at a naked man."

The first straik that young Musgrave got,
It was baith deep and sair; 90
And down he fell at Barnaby's feet,
And word spak never mair.

* * * * * *

"A grave, a grave!" lord Barnaby cried,
"A grave to lay them in;
My lady shall lie on the sunny side, 95
Because of her noble kin."

But oh, how sorry was that good lord,
For a' his angry mood,
Whan he beheld his ain young son
All welt'ring in his blood! 100

26. For _slack'd_ read _bent_. J.

[NOTE.] [In v. 31] the term "_braid_ bow" has been altered by the editor into "_brent_ bow," i. e. _straight_, or _unbent_ bow. In most of the old ballads, where a page is employed as the bearer of a message, we are told, that,

"When he came to wan water,
He _bent_ his bow and swam;"

And

"He set his _bent_ bow to his breast,
And lightly lap the wa'," &c.

The application of the term _bent_, in the latter instance, does not seem correct, and is probably substituted for _brent_.

In the establishment of a feudal baron, every thing wore a military aspect; he was a warrior by profession; every man attached to him, particularly those employed about his person, was a soldier; and his little foot-page was very appropriately equipped in the light accoutrements of an archer. His bow, in the old ballad, seems as inseparable from his character as the bow of Cupid or of Apollo, or the caduceus of his celestial prototype Mercury. This bow, which he carried unbent, he seems to have _bent_ when he had occasion to swim, in order that he might the more easily carry it in his teeth, to prevent the string from being injured by getting wet. At other times he availed himself of its length and elasticity in the _brent_, or straight state, and used it (as hunters do a leaping pole) in vaulting over the wall of the outer court of a castle, when his business would not admit of the tedious formality of blowing a horn, or ringing a bell, and holding a long parley with the porter at the gate, before he could gain admission. This, at least, appears to the editor to be the meaning of these passages in the old ballads. JAMIESON.

CHILDE MAURICE. See p. 30.

From Jamieson's _Popular Ballads and Songs_, i. 8.

Childe Maurice hunted i' the silver[L1] wood,
He hunted it round about,
And noebody yt he found theren,
Nor noebody without.

* * * * * * *
* * * * * * *
And tooke his silver combe in his hand 5
To kembe his yellow lockes.

He sayes, "come hither, thou litle footpage,
That runneth lowly by my knee;
Ffor thou shalt goe to John Steward's wiffe,
And pray her speake with mee. 10

"And as it ffalls out,[L11] many times
As knotts been knitt on a kell,
Or merchant men gone to leeve London,
Either to buy ware or sell,

* * * * * * *
* * * * * * *
And grete thou doe that ladye well, 15
Ever soe well ffroe mee.

"And as it ffalls out, many times
As any harte can thinke,
As schoole masters are in any schoole house,
Writting with pen and inke, 20

* * * * * * *
* * * * * * *
Ffor if I might as well as shee may,
This night I wold with her speake.

"And heere I send a mantle of greene,
As greene as any grasse,
And bid her come to the silver wood,[L25] 25
To hunt with Child Maurice.

"And there I send her a ring of gold,
A ring of precyous stone;
And bid her come to the silver wood,
Let for no kind of man." 30

One while this litle boy he yode,
Another while he ran;
Until he came to John Steward's hall,
Iwis he never blan.

And of nurture the child had good; 35
He ran up hall and bower ffree,
And when he came to this lady ffaire,
Sayes, "God you save and see.

"I am come ffrom Childe Maurice,
A message unto thee, 40
And Childe Maurice he greetes you well,
And ever soe well ffrom me.

"And as it ffalls out, oftentimes
As knotts been knitt on a kell,
Or merchant men gone to leeve London 45
Either to buy or sell;

"And as oftentimes he greetes you well,
As any hart can thinke,
Or schoolemaster in any schoole,
Wryting with pen and inke. 50

"And heere he sends a mantle of greene,
As greene as any grasse,
And he bidds you come to the silver wood,
To hunt with child Maurice.

"And heere he sends you a ring of gold, 55
A ring of precyous stone;
He prayes you to come to the silver wood,
Let for no kind of man."

"Now peace, now peace, thou litle fotpage,
Ffor Christes sake I pray thee; 60
Ffor if my lord heare one of those words,
Thou must be hanged hye."

John Steward stood under the castle wall,
And he wrote the words every one;
* * * * * * *
* * * * * * *

And he called unto his horssekeeper, 65
"Make ready you my steede;"
And soe he did to his chamberlaine,
"Make readye then my weed."

And he cast a lease upon his backe,
And he rode to the silver wood, 70
And there he sought all about,
About the silver wood.

And there he found him Childe Maurice,
Sitting upon a blocke,
With a silver combe in his hand, 75
Kembing his yellow locke.

He sayes, "how now, how now, Childe Maurice,
Alacke how may this bee?"
But then stood by him Childe Maurice,
And sayd these words trulye: 80

"I do not know your ladye," he said,
"If that I doe her see."
"Ffor thou hast sent her love tokens,
More now than two or three.

"For thou hast sent her a mantle of greene, 85
As greene as any grasse,
And bade her come to the silver wood,
To hunt with Childe Maurice.

"And by my faith now, Childe Maurice,
The tane of us shall dye;" 90
"Now by my troth," sayd Childe Maurice,
"And that shall not be I."

But he pulled out a bright browne sword,
And dryed it on the grasse,
And soe fast he smote at John Steward, 95
Iwis he never rest.

Then hee pulled forth his bright browne sword,
And dryed itt on his sleeve,
And the ffirst good stroke John Steward stroke,
Child Maurice head he did cleeve. 100

And he pricked it on his swords poynt,
Went singing there beside,
And he rode till he came to the ladye ffaire,
Whereas his ladye lyed.

And sayes, "dost thou know Child Maurice head, 105
Iff that thou dost it see?
And llap it soft, and kisse itt offt,
Ffor thou lovedst him better than mee."

But when shee looked on Child Maurice head,
Shee never spake words but three: 110
"I never beare noe child but one,
And you have slain him trulye."

Sayes, "wicked be my merry men all,
I gave meate, drinke, and clothe;
But cold they not have holden me, 115
When I was in all that wrath!

"Ffor I have slaine one of the courteousest knights
That ever bestrode a steede;
Soe have I done one of the fairest ladyes
That ever ware womans weede." 120

1. MS. silven. See vv. 25, 53, 70, 72.

11. out out.

25. Sic in MS.

CLERK SAUNDERS. See p. 45.

From Jamieson's _Popular Ballads and Songs_, i. 83.

"The following copy was transmitted by Mrs. Arrott of Aberbrothick. The stanzas, where the seven brothers are introduced, have been enlarged from two fragments, which, although very defective in themselves, furnished lines which, when incorporated with the text, seemed to improve it. Stanzas 21 and 22, were written by the editor; the idea of the _rose_ being suggested by the gentleman who recited, but who could not recollect the language in which it was expressed."

This copy of _Clerk Saunders_ bears traces of having been made up from several sources. A portion of the concluding stanzas (v. 107-130) have a strong resemblance to the beginning and end of _Proud Lady Margaret_ (vol. viii. 83, 278), which ballad is itself in a corrupt condition. It may also be doubted whether the fragments Jamieson speaks of did not belong to a ballad resembling _Lady Maisry_, p. 78 of this volume.

Accepting the ballad as it stands here, there is certainly likeness enough in the first part to suggest a community of origin with the Swedish ballad _Den Grymma Brodern_, _Svenska Folk-Visor_, No. 86 (translated in _Lit. and Rom. of Northern Europe_, p. 261). W. Grimm mentions (_Altd[:a]n. Heldenl._, p. 519) a Spanish ballad, _De la Blanca Ni[~n]a_, in the _Romancero de Amberes_, in which the similarity to _Den Grymma Brodern_ is very striking. The series of questions (v. 30-62) sometimes appears apart from the story, and with a comic turn, as in _Det Hurtige Svar_, _Danske V._, No. 204, or _Thore och hans Syster_, Arwidsson, i. 358. In this shape they closely resemble the familiar old song, _Our gudeman came hame at e'en_, Herd, _Scottish Songs_, ii. 74.

Clerk Saunders was an earl's son,
He liv'd upon sea-sand;
May Margaret was a king's daughter,
She liv'd in upper land.

Clerk Saunders was an earl's son, 5
Weel learned at the scheel;
May Margaret was a king's daughter;
They baith lo'ed ither weel.

He's throw the dark, and throw the mark,
And throw the leaves o' green; 10
Till he came to May Margaret's door,
And tirled at the pin.

"O sleep ye, wake ye, May Margaret,
Or are ye the bower within?"
"O wha is that at my bower door, 15
Sae weel my name does ken?"
"It's I, Clerk Saunders, your true love,
You'll open and lat me in.

"O will ye to the cards, Margaret,
Or to the table to dine? 20
Or to the bed, that's weel down spread,
And sleep when we get time."

"I'll no go to the cards," she says,
"Nor to the table to dine;
But I'll go to a bed, that's weel down spread, 25
And sleep when we get time."

They were not weel lyen down,
And no weel fa'en asleep,
When up and stood May Margaret's brethren,
Just up at their bed feet. 30

"O tell us, tell us, May Margaret,
And dinna to us len,
O wha is aught yon noble steed,
That stands your stable in?

"The steed is mine, and it may be thine, 35
To ride whan ye ride in hie----

* * * * * * *

"But awa', awa', my bald brethren,
Awa', and mak nae din;
For I am as sick a lady the nicht
As e'er lay a bower within." 40

"O tell us, tell us, May Margaret,
And dinna to us len,
O wha is aught yon noble hawk,
That stands your kitchen in?"

"The hawk is mine, and it may be thine, 45
To hawk whan ye hawk in hie----

* * * * * * *

"But awa', awa', my bald brethren!
Awa', and mak nae din;
For I'm ane o' the sickest ladies this nicht
That e'er lay a bower within." 50

"O tell us, tell us, May Margaret,
And dinna to us len,
O wha is that, May Margaret,
You and the wa' between?"

"O it is my bower-maiden," she says, 55
"As sick as sick can be;
O it is my bower maiden," she says,
And she's thrice as sick as me."

"We hae been east, and we've been west,
And low beneath the moon; 60
But a' the bower-women e'er we saw
Hadna goud buckles in their shoon."

Then up and spak her eldest brither,
Ay in ill time spak he:
"It is Clerk Saunders, your true love, 65
And never mat I the,
But for this scorn that he has done,
This moment he sall die."

But up and spak her youngest brother,
Ay in good time spak he: 70
"O but they are a gudelie pair!--
True lovers an ye be,
The sword that hangs at my sword belt
Sall never sinder ye!"

Syne up and spak her nexten brother, 75
And the tear stood in his ee:
"You've lo'ed her lang, and lo'ed her weel,
And pity it wad be,
The sword that hangs at my sword-belt
Shoud ever sinder ye!" 80

But up and spak her fifthen brother,
"Sleep on your sleep for me;
But we baith sall never sleep again,
For the tane o' us sall die!"

[But up and spak her midmaist brother; 85
And an angry laugh leugh he:
"The thorn that dabs, I'll cut it down,
Though fair the rose may be.

"The flower that smell'd sae sweet yestreen
Has lost its bloom wi' thee; 90
And though I'm wae it should be sae,
Clerk Saunders, ye maun die."]

And up and spak her thirden brother,
Ay in ill time spak he:
"Curse on his love and comeliness!-- 95
Dishonour'd as ye be,
The sword that hangs at my sword-belt
Sall quickly sinder ye!"

Her eldest brother has drawn his sword;
Her second has drawn anither; 100
Between Clerk Saunders' hause and collar bane
The cald iron met thegither.

"O wae be to you, my fause brethren,
And an ill death mat ye die!
Ye mith slain Clerk Saunders in open field, 105
And no in the bed wi' me."

When seven years were come and gane,
Lady Margaret she thought lang;
And she is up to the hichest tower,
By the lee licht o' the moon. 110

She was lookin o'er her castle high,
To see what she might fa';
And there she saw a grieved ghost
Comin waukin o'er the wa'.[L114]

"O are ye a man of mean," she says, 115
"Seekin ony o' my meat?
Or are you a rank robber,
Come in my bower to break?"

"O I'm Clerk Saunders, your true love;
Behold, Margaret, and see, 120
And mind, for a' your meikle pride,
Sae will become of thee."

"Gin ye be Clerk Saunders, my true love,
This meikle marvels me:
O wherein is your bonny arms 125
That wont to embrace me?"

"By worms they're eaten, in mools they're rotten,
Behold, Margaret, and see;
And mind, for a' your mickle pride,
Sae will become o' thee!" 130

* * * * * * *

O, bonny, bonny sang the bird,
Sat on the coil o' hay;
But dowie, dowie was the maid,
That follow'd the corpse o' clay.

"Is there ony room at your head, Saunders, 135
Is there ony room at your feet?
Is there ony room at your twa sides,
For a lady to lie and sleep?"

"There is nae room at my head, Margaret,
As little at my feet; 140
There is nae room at my twa sides,
For a lady to lie and sleep.

"But gae hame, gae hame, now, May Margaret,
Gae hame and sew your seam;
For if ye were laid in your weel-made bed, 145
Your days will nae be lang."

114. The _wa'_ here is supposed to mean the wall, which, in some old castles, surrounded the court. J.

LORD WA'YATES AND AULD INGRAM.

A FRAGMENT. See p. 72.

Jamieson's _Popular Ballads_, ii. 265.

"From Mr. Herd's MS., transmitted by Mr. Scott."

Lady Maisery was a lady fair,
She made her mother's bed;
Auld Ingram was an aged knight,
And her he sought to wed.

"Its I forbid ye, auld Ingram, 5
For to seek me to spouse;
For Lord Wa'yates, your sister's son,
Has been into my bowers.

"Its I forbid ye, auld Ingram,
For to seek me to wed; 10
For Lord Wa'yates, your sister's son,
Has been into my bed."

He has brocht to this ladie
The robis of the brown;
And ever, "Alas!" says this ladie, 15
"Thae robes will put me down."

And he has brocht to that ladie
The robis of the red;
And ever, "Alas!" says that ladie,
"Thae robes will be my dead." 20

And he has brocht to that ladie
The chrystal and the laumer;
Sae has he brocht to her mither
The curches o' the cannel.

Every ane o' her seven brethren 25
They had a hawk in hand,
And every lady in the place
They got a goud garland.

Every cuik in that kitchen
They got a noble claith; 30
A' was blyth at auld Ingram's coming,
But Lady Maisery was wraith.

"Whare will I get a bonny boy,
Wad fain win hose and shoon,
That wad rin on to my Wa'yates, 35
And quickly come again?"

"Here am I, a bonny boy,
Wad fain win hose and shoon;
Wha will rin on to your Wa'yates,
And quickly come again." 40

"Ye'll bid him, and ye'll pray him baith,
Gin ony prayer may dee,
To Marykirk to come the morn,
My weary wadding to see."

Lord Wa'yates lay o'er his castle wa', 45
Beheld baith dale and down;
And he beheld a bonny boy
Come running to the town.

"What news, what news, ye bonny boy?
What news hae ye to me? 50
* * * * * * *
* * * * * * *

"O are my ladie's fauldis brunt,
Or are her towers won?
Or is my Maisery lichter yet
O' a dear dochter or son?"

"Your ladie's faulds are neither brunt, 55
Nor are her towers won;
Nor is your Maisery lichter yet
O' a dear dochter or son:

"But she bids you, and she prays you baith,
Gin ony prayer can dee, 60
To Mary Kirk to come the morn,
Her weary wadding to see."

He dang the buird up wi' his fit,
Sae did he wi' his knee;
The silver cup, that was upon't, 65
I' the fire he gar'd it flee:
"O whatten a lord in a' Scotland
Dare marry my Maisery?

"O it is but a feeble thocht,
To tell the tane and nae the tither; 70
O it is but a feeble thocht
To tell it's your ain mither's brither."

"Its I will send to that wadding,
And I will follow syne,
The fitches o' the fallow deer, 75
And the gammons o' the swine;
And the nine hides o' the noble cow--
'Twas slain in season time.

"Its I will send to that wadding
Ten tun o' the red wine; 80
And mair I'll send to that waddin',
And I will follow syne."

Whan he came in into the ha',
Lady Maisery she did ween;
And twenty times he kist her mou', 85
Afore auld Ingram's een.

And till the kirk she wadna gae,
Nor tillt she wadna ride,
Till four-and-twenty men she gat her before,
And twenty on ilka side, 90
And four-and-twenty milk white dows,
To flee aboon her head.

A loud lauchter gae Lord Wa'yates,
'Mang the mids o' his men;
"Marry that lady wha that will, 95
A maiden she is nane."

"O leuch ye at my men, Wa'yates,
Or did ye lauch at me?
Or leuch ye at the bierdly bride,
That's gaun to marry me?" 100

"I leuchna at your men, uncle,
Nor yet leuch I at thee;
But I leuch at my lands so braid,
Sae weel's I do them see."

When e'en was come, and e'en-bells rung, 105
And a' man gane to bed,
The bride but and the silly bridegroom
In ae chamber were laid.

Wasna't a fell thing for to see
Twa heads upon a cod; 110
Lady Maisery's like the mo'ten goud,
Auld Ingram's like a toad.

He turn'd his face unto the stock,
And sound he fell asleep;
She turn'd her face unto the wa', 115
And saut tears she did weep.

It fell about the mirk midnicht,
Auld Ingram began to turn him;
He put his hand on's ladie's side,
And waly, sair was she mournin'. 120

"What aileth thee, my lady dear?
Ever alas, and wae is me!
There is a babe betwixt thy sides,--
Oh! sae sair's it grieves me!"

"O didna I tell ye, auld Ingram, 125
Ere ye socht me to wed,
That Lord Wa'yates, your sister's son,
Had been into my bed?"

"Then father that bairn on me, Maisery,
O father that bairn on me; 130
And ye sall hae a rigland shire
Your mornin' gift to be."

"O sarbit!" says the Ladie Maisery,
"That ever the like me befa',
To father my bairn on auld Ingram, 135
Lord Wa'yates in my father's ha'.

"O sarbit!" says the Ladie Maisery,
"That ever the like betide,
To father my bairn on auld Ingram,
And Lord Wa'yates beside." 140

* * * * * * *

SWEET WILLIE AND FAIR MAISRY. See p. 79.

From Buchan's _Ballads of the North of Scotland_, i. 97.

"Hey love Willie, and how love Willie,
And Willie my love shall be;
They're thinking to sinder our lang love, Willie;
It's mair than man can dee.

"Ye'll mount me quickly on a steed, 5
A milk-white steed or gray;
And carry me on to gude greenwood
Before that it be day."

He mounted her upon a steed,
He chose a steed o' gray; 10
He had her on to gude greenwood
Before that it was day.

"O will ye gang to the cards, Meggie?
Or will ye gang wi' me?
Or will ye ha'e a bower woman, 15
To stay ere it be day?"

"I winna gang to the cards," she said,
"Nor will I gae wi' thee,
Nor will I hae a bower woman,
To spoil my modestie. 20

"Ye'll gie me a lady at my back,
An' a lady me beforn;
An' a midwife at my twa sides
Till your young son be born.

"Ye'll do me up, and further up, 25
To the top o' yon greenwood tree;
For every pain myself shall ha'e,
The same pain ye maun drie."

The first pain that did strike sweet Willie,
It was into the side; 30
Then sighing sair said sweet Willie,
"These pains are ill to bide."

The nextan pain that strake sweet Willie,
It was into the back;
Then sighing sair said sweet Willie, 35
"These pains are women's wreck."

The nextan pain that strake sweet Willie,
It was into the head;
Then sighing sair said sweet Willie,
"I fear my lady's dead." 40

Then he's gane on, and further on,
At the foot o' yon greenwood tree;
There he got his lady lighter,
Wi' his young son on her knee.

Then he's ta'en up his little young son, 45
And kiss'd him cheek and chin;
And he is on to his mother,
As fast as he could gang.

"Ye will take in my son, mother,
Gi'e him to nurses nine; 50
Three to wauk, and three to sleep,
And three to gang between."

Then he has left his mother's house,
And frae her he has gane;
And he is back to his lady, 55
And safely brought her hame.

Then in it came her father dear,
Was belted in a brand;
"It's nae time for brides to lye in bed,
When the bridegroom's send's in town. 60

"There are four-and-twenty noble lords
A' lighted on the green;
The fairest knight amang them a',
He must be your bridegroom."

"O wha will shoe my foot, my foot? 65
And wha will glove my hand?
And wha will prin my sma' middle,
Wi' the short prin and the lang?"

Now out it speaks him, sweet Willie,
Who knew her troubles best; 70
"It is my duty for to serve,
As I'm come here as guest.

"Now I will shoe your foot, Maisry,
And I will glove your hand,
And I will prin your sma' middle, 75
Wi' the sma' prin and the lang."

"Wha will saddle my steed," she says,
"And gar my bridle ring?
And wha will ha'e me to gude church-door,
This day I'm ill abound?" 80

"I will saddle your steed, Maisry,
And gar your bridle ring;
And I'll hae you to gude church-door,
And safely set you down."

"O healy, healy take me up, 85
And healy set me down;
And set my back until a wa',
My foot to yird-fast stane."

He healy took her frae her horse,
And healy set her down; 90
And set her back until a wa',
Her foot to yird-fast stane.

When they had eaten and well drunken,
And a' had thorn'd fine;
The bride's father he took the cup, 95
For to serve out the wine.

Out it speaks the bridegroom's brother,
An ill death mat he die!
"I fear our bride she's born a bairn,
Or else has it a dee." 100

She's ta'en out a Bible braid,
And deeply has she sworn;
"If I ha'e born a bairn," she says,
"Sin' yesterday at morn;

"Or if I've born a bairn," she says, 105
"Sin' yesterday at noon;
There's nae a lady amang you a'
That wou'd been here sae soon."

Then out it spake the bridegroom's man,
Mischance come ower his heel! 110
"Win up, win up, now bride," he says,
"And dance a shamefu' reel."[L112]

Then out it speaks the bride hersell,
And a sorry heart had she;
"Is there nae ane amang you a' 115
Will dance this dance for me?"

Then out it speaks him, sweet Willie,
And he spake aye thro' pride;
"O draw my boots for me, bridegroom,
Or I dance for your bride." 120

Then out it spake the bride hersell,
"O na, this maunna be;
For I will dance this dance mysell,
Tho' my back shou'd gang in three."

She hadna well gane thro' the reel, 125
Nor yet well on the green,
Till she fell down at Willie's feet
As cauld as ony stane.

He's ta'en her in his arms twa,
And ha'ed her up the stair; 130
Then up it came her jolly bridegroom,
Says, "What's your business there?"

Then Willie lifted up his foot,
And dang him down the stair;
And brake three ribs o' the bridegroom's side, 135
And a word he spake nae mair.

Nae meen was made for that lady,
When she was lying dead;
But a' was for him, sweet Willie,
On the fields for he ran mad. 140

112. The first reel, danced with the bride, her maiden, and two young men, and called the Shame Spring, or Reel, as the bride chooses the tune that is to be played. B.

LADY MARJORIE. See p. 92.

"Given from the recitation of an old woman in Kilbarchan, Renfrewshire, from whom the Editor has obtained several valuable pieces of a like nature. In singing, O is added at the end of the second and fourth line of each stanza." Motherwell's _Minstrelsy_, p. 234.

Lady Marjorie was her mother's only daughter,
Her father's only heir;
And she is awa to Strawberry Castle,
To get some unco lair.

She had na been in Strawberry Castle 5
A twelvemonth and a day,
Till Lady Marjorie she gangs big wi' child,
As big as she can gae.

Word is to her father gane,
Before he got on his shoon, 10
That Lady Marjorie she gaes wi' child,
And it is to an Irish groom.

But word is to her mother gone,
Before she got on her goun,
That Lady Marjorie she gaes wi' child 15
To a lord of high renown.

"O wha will put on the pat," they said,
"Or wha will put on the pan,
Or wha will put on a bauld, bauld fire,
To burn Lady Marjorie in?" 20

Her father he put on the pat,
Her sister put on the pan,
And her brother he put on a bauld, bauld fire,
To burn Lady Marjorie in;
And her mother she sat in a golden chair, 25
To see her daughter burn.

"But where will I get a pretty little boy,
That will win hose and shoon;
That will go quickly to Strawberry Castle,
And bid my lord come doun?" 30

"O here am I, a pretty little boy,
That will win hose and shoon;
That will rin quickly to Strawberry Castle,
And bid thy lord come doun."

O when he cam to broken brigs, 35
He bent his bow and swam;
And when he cam to gude dry land,
He set doun his foot and ran.

When he cam to Strawberry Castle,
He tirled at the pin; 40
Nane was sae ready as the gay lord himsell
To open and let him in.

"O is there any of my towers burnt,
Or any of my castles won?
Or is Lady Marjorie brought to bed, 45
Of a daughter or a son?"

"O there is nane of thy towers burnt,
Nor nane of thy castles broken;
But Lady Marjorie is condemned to die,
To be burnt in a fire of oaken." 50

"O gar saddle to me the black," he says,
"Gar saddle to me the broun;
Gar saddle to me the swiftest steed
That e'er carried a man frae toun!"

He left the black into the slap, 55
The broun into the brae;
But fair fa' that bonnie apple-gray
That carried this gay lord away!

"Beet on, beet on, my brother dear,
I value you not one straw; 60
For yonder comes my ain true luve,
I hear his horn blaw.

"Beet on, beet on, my father dear,
I value you not a pin;
For yonder comes my ain true luve, 65
I hear his bridle ring."

He took a little horn out of his pocket,
And he blew't baith loud and schill;
And wi' the little life that was in her,
She hearken'd to it full weel. 70

But when he came into the place,
He lap unto the wa';
He thought to get a kiss o' her bonnie lips,
But her body fell in twa!

"O vow! O vow! O vow!" he said, 75
"O vow! but ye've been cruel:
Ye've taken the timber out of my ain wood,
And burnt my ain dear jewel!

"Now for thy sake, Lady Marjorie,
I'll burn baith father and mother; 80
And for thy sake, Lady Marjorie,
I'll burn baith sister and brother.

"And for thy sake, Lady Marjorie,
I'll burn baith kith and kin;
But I'll aye remember the pretty little boy 85
That did thy errand rin."

LEESOME BRAND.

Buchan's _Ballads of the North of Scotland_, i. 38. This is properly a tragic story, as may be perceived by comparing the present corrupted version (evidently made up from several different sources) with the Danish and Swedish ballads. See _Herr Medelvold_, _Danske Viser_, iii. 361, _Die wahrsagenden Nachtigallen_, in Grimm's _Altd[:a]nische Heldenlieder_, p. 88, _Fair Midel and Kirsten Lyle_, translated by Jamieson, _Illustrations_, p. 377; and _Herr Redevall_, _Svenska Folkvisor_, ii. 189, _Krist' Lilla och Herr Tideman_, Arwidsson, i. 352, _Sir Wal and Lisa Lyle_, translated by Jamieson, p. 373.

My boy was scarcely ten years auld,
Whan he went to an unco land,
Where wind never blew, nor cocks ever crew,
Ohon! for my son, Leesome Brand.

Awa' to that king's court he went, 5
It was to serve for meat an' fee;
Gude red gowd it was his hire,
And lang in that king's court stay'd he.

He hadna been in that unco land,
But only twallmonths twa or three; 10
Till by the glancing o' his ee,
He gain'd the love o' a gay ladye.

This ladye was scarce eleven years auld,
When on her love she was right bauld;
She was scarce up to my right knee, 15
When oft in bed wi' men I'm tauld.

But when nine months were come and gane,
This ladye's face turn'd pale and wane;
To Leesome Brand she then did say,
"In this place I can nae mair stay. 20

"Ye do you to my father's stable,
Where steeds do stand baith wight and able;
Strike ane o' them upo' the back,
The swiftest will gie his head a wap.

"Ye take him out upo' the green, 25
And get him saddled and bridled seen;
Get ane for you, anither for me,
And lat us ride out ower the lee.

"Ye do you to my mother's coffer,
And out of it ye'll take my tocher; 30
Therein are sixty thousand pounds,
Which all to me by right belongs."

He's done him to her father's stable,
Where steeds stood baith wicht and able;
Then he strake ane upon the back, 35
The swiftest gae his head a wap.

He's ta'en him out upo' the green,
And got him saddled and bridled seen;
Ane for him, and another for her,
To carry them baith wi' might and virr. 40

He's done him to her mother's coffer,
And there he's taen his lover's tocher;
Wherein were sixty thousand pounds,
Which all to her by right belong'd.

When they had ridden about six mile, 45
His true love then began to fail;
"O wae's me," said that gay ladye,
"I fear my back will gang in three!

"O gin I had but a gude midwife,[L49]
Here this day to save my life, 50
And ease me o' my misery,
O dear, how happy I wou'd be!"

"My love, we're far frae ony town;
There is nae midwife to be foun';
But if ye'll be content wi' me, 55
I'll do for you what man can dee."

"For no, for no, this maunna be,"
Wi' a sigh, replied this gay ladye;
"When I endure my grief and pain,
My companie ye maun refrain. 60

"Ye'll take your arrow and your bow,
And ye will hunt the deer and roe;
Be sure ye touch not the white hynde,
For she is o' the woman kind."

He took sic pleasure in deer and roe, 65
Till he forgot his gay ladye;
Till by it came that milk-white hynde,
And then he mind on his ladye syne.

He hasted him to yon greenwood tree,
For to relieve his gay ladye; 70
But found his ladye lying dead,
Likeways her young son at her head.

His mother lay ower her castle wa',
And she beheld baith dale and down;
And she beheld young Leesome Brand, 75
As he came riding to the town.

"Get minstrels for to play," she said,
"And dancers to dance in my room;
For here comes my son, Leesome Brand,
And he comes merrilie to the town." 80

"Seek nae minstrels to play, mother,
Nor dancers to dance in your room;
But tho' your son comes, Leesome Brand,
Yet he comes sorry to the town.

"O I hae lost my gowden knife, 85
I rather had lost my ain sweet life;
And I hae lost a better thing,
The gilded sheath that it was in."

"Are there nae gowdsmiths here in Fife,
Can make to you anither knife? 90
Are there nae sheath-makers in the land,
Can make a sheath to Leesome Brand?"

"There are nae gowdsmiths here in Fife,
Can make me sic a gowden knife;
Nor nae sheath-makers in the land, 95
Can make to me a sheath again.

"There ne'er was man in Scotland born,
Ordain'd to be so much forlorn;
I've lost my ladye I lov'd sae dear,
Likeways the son she did me bear." 100

"Put in your hand at my bed head,
There ye'll find a gude grey horn;
In it three draps o' Saint Paul's ain blude,
That hae been there sin' he was born.

"Drap twa o' them o' your ladye, 105
And ane upo' your little young son;
Then as lively they will be
As the first night ye brought them hame."

He put his hand at her bed head,
And there he found a gude grey horn; 110
Wi' three draps o' Saint Paul's ain blude,
That had been there sin' he was born.

Then he drapp'd twa on his ladye,
And ane o' them on his young son;
And now they do as lively be, 115
As the first day he brought them hame.

NOTE to v. 49-72.--A similar passage is found at p. 94 of this volume, v. 33-36, also vol. v. p. 178, v. 97-108, and p. 402, v. 169-176, and in the Scandinavian ballads cited in the preface to this ballad. In these last the lady frees herself from the presence of the knight by sending him to get her some water, and she is found dead on his return. This incident, remarks Grimm, (_Altd[:a]nische Heldenlieder_, p. 508), is also found in _Wolfdietrich_, Str. 1680-96.

THE YOUTH OF ROSENGORD. See p. 219.

_Sven i Roseng[oa]rd_, _Svenska Folk-Visor_, iii. 3, and Arwidsson's _Forns[oa]nger_, ii. 83: translated in _Literature and Romance of Northern Europe_, i. 263.

"So long where hast thou tarried,
Young man of Rosengord?"
"I have been into my stable,
Our mother dear."
Long may you look for me, or look for me never. 5

"What hast thou done in the stable,
Young man of Rosengord?"
"I have watered the horses,
Our mother dear."
Long may ye look for me, or look for me never. 10

"Why is thy foot so bloody,
Young man of Rosengord?"
"The black horse has trampled me,
Our mother dear."
Long may you look for me, or look for me never. 15

"Why is thy sword so bloody,
Young man of Rosengord?"
"I have murdered my brother,
Our mother dear."
Long may you look for me, or look for me never. 20

"Whither wilt thou betake thee,
Young man of Rosengord?"
"I shall flee my country,
Our mother dear."
Long may you look for me, or look for me never. 25

"What will become of thy wedded wife,
Young man of Rosengord?"
"She must spin for her living,
Our mother dear."
Long may you look for me, or look for me never. 30

"What will become of thy children small,
Young man of Rosengord?"
"They must beg from door to door,
Our mother dear."
Long may you look for me, or look for me never. 35

"When comest thou back again,
Young man of Rosengord?"
"When the swan is black as night,
Our mother dear."
Long may you look for me, or look for me never. 40

"And when will the swan be black as night,
Young man of Rosengord?"
"When the raven shall be white as snow,
Our mother dear."
Long may you look for me, or look for me never. 45

"And when will the raven be white as snow,
Young man of Rosengord?"
"When the grey rocks take to flight,
Our mother dear."
Long may you look for me, or look for me never. 50

"And when will fly the grey rocks,
Young man of Rosengord?"
"The rocks they will fly never,
Our mother dear."
Long may you look for me, or look for me never. 55

THE BLOOD-STAINED SON.--See p. 219.

A translation, nearly word for word, of _Der Blutige Sohn_, printed from oral tradition in Schr[:o]ter's _Finnische Runen_, (_Finnisch und Deutsch_,) ed. 1834, p. 151.

"Say whence com'st thou, say whence com'st thou,
Merry son of mine?"
"From the lake-side, from the lake-side,
O dear mother mine."

"What hast done there, what hast done there, 5
Merry son of mine?"
"Steeds I watered, steeds I watered,
O dear mother mine."

"Why thus clay-bedaubed thy jacket,
Merry son of mine?" 10
"Steeds kept stamping, steeds kept stamping,
O dear mother mine."

"But how came thy sword so bloody,
Merry son of mine?"
"I have stabbed my only brother, 15
O dear mother mine."

"Whither wilt thou now betake thee,
Merry son of mine?"
"Far away to foreign countries,
O dear mother mine." 20

"Where leav'st thou thy gray-haired father,
Merry son of mine?"
"Let him chop wood in the forest,
Never wish to see me more,
O dear mother mine." 25

"Where leav'st thou thy gray-haired mother,
Merry son of mine?"
"Let her sit, her flax a-picking,
Never wish to see me more,
O dear mother mine." 30

"Where leav'st thou thy wife so youthful,
Merry son of mine?"
"Let her deck her, take another,
Never wish to see me more,
O dear mother mine." 35

"Where leav'st thou thy son so youthful,
Merry son of mine?"
"He to school, and bear the rod there,
[Never wish to see me more,]
O dear mother mine." 40

"Where leav'st thou thy youthful daughter,
Merry son of mine?"
"She to the wood and eat wild berries,
Never wish to see me more,
O dear mother mine." 45

"Home when com'st thou back from roaming,
Merry son of mine?"
"In the north when breaks the morning,
O dear mother mine."

"In the north when breaks the morning, 50
Merry son of mine?"
"When stones dance upon the water,
O dear mother mine."

"When shall stones dance on the water,
Merry son of mine?" 55
"When a feather sinks to the bottom,
O dear mother mine."

"When shall feathers sink to the bottom,
Merry son of mine?"
"When we all shall come to judgment, 60
O dear mother mine."

THE TWA BROTHERS. See p. 220.

From Motherwell's _Minstrelsy_, p. 61.

There were twa brothers at the scule,
And when they got awa',--
"It's will ye play at the stane-chucking,
Or will ye play at the ba',
Or will ye gae up to yon hill head, 5
And there we'll warsel a fa'?"

"I winna play at the stane-chucking,
Nor will I play at the ba';
But I'll gae up to yon bonnie green hill,
And there we'll warsel a fa'." 10

They warsled up, they warsled down,
Till John fell to the ground;
A dirk fell out of William's pouch,
And gave John a deadly wound.

"O lift me upon your back, 15
Take me to yon well fair,
And wash my bluidy wounds o'er and o'er,
And they'll ne'er bleed nae mair."

He's lifted his brother upon his back,
Ta'en him to yon well fair; 20
He's wash'd his bluidy wounds o'er and o'er,
But they bleed ay mair and mair.

"Tak ye aff my Holland sark,
And rive it gair by gair,
And row it in my bluidy wounds, 25
And they'll ne'er bleed nae mair."

He's taken aff his Holland sark,
And torn it gair by gair;
He's rowit it in his bluidy wounds,
But they bleed ay mair and mair. 30

"Tak now aff my green cleiding,
And row me saftly in;
And tak me up to yon kirk style,
Whare the grass grows fair and green."

He's taken aff the green cleiding, 35
And rowed him saftly in;
He's laid him down by yon kirk style,
Whare the grass grows fair and green.

"What will ye say to your father dear,
When ye gae hame at e'en?" 40
"I'll say ye're lying at yon kirk style,
Whare the grass grows fair and green."

"O no, O no, my brother dear,
O you must not say so;
But say that I'm gane to a foreign land, 45
Whare nae man does me know."

When he sat in his father's chair,
He grew baith pale and wan:
"O what blude 's that upon your brow?
O dear son, tell to me." 50
"It is the blude o' my gude gray steed,
He wadna ride wi' me."

"O thy steed's blude was ne'er sae red,
Nor e'er sae dear to me:
O what blude 's this upon your cheek? 55
O dear son, tell to me."
"It is the blude of my greyhound,
He wadna hunt for me."

"O thy hound's blude was ne'er sae red,
Nor e'er sae dear to me: 60
O what blude 's this upon your hand?
O dear son, tell to me."
"It is the blude of my gay goss hawk,
He wadna flee for me."

"O thy hawk's blude was ne'er sae red, 65
Nor e'er sae dear to me:
O what blude 's this upon your dirk?
Dear Willie, tell to me."
"It is the blude of my ae brother,
O dule and wae is me!" 70

"O what will ye say to your father?
Dear Willie, tell to me."
"I'll saddle my steed, and awa I'll ride
To dwell in some far countrie."

"O when will ye come hame again? 75
Dear Willie, tell to me."
"When sun and mune leap on yon hill,
And that will never be."

She turn'd hersel' right round about,
And her heart burst into three: 80
"My ae best son is deid and gane,
And my tother ane I'll ne'er see."

THE MILLER AND THE KING'S DAUGHTER. See p. 231.

From _Wit Restor'd_, (1658,) reprinted, London, 1817, i. 153. It is there ascribed to "Mr. Smith," (Dr. James Smith, the author of many of the pieces in that collection,) who may have written it down from tradition, and perhaps added a verse or two. Mr. Rimbault has printed the same piece from a broadside dated 1656, in _Notes and Queries_, v. 591. A fragment of it is given from recitation at p. 316 of that volume, and a copy quite different from any before published, at p. 102 of vol. vi. Although two or three stanzas are ludicrous, and were probably intended for burlesque, this ballad is by no means to be regarded as a parody.

There were two sisters, they went a-playing,
_With a hie downe, downe, a downe a_;
To see their fathers ships sayling in.
_With a hy downe, downe, a downe o._

And when they came into the sea brym,
_With_, &c.
The elder did push the younger in.
_With_, &c.

"O sister, O sister, take me by the gowne, 5
_With_, &c.
And drawe me up upon the dry ground."
_With_, &c.

"O sister, O sister, that may not bee,
_With_, &c.
Till salt and oatmeale grow both of a tree."
_With_, &c.

Somtymes she sanke, somtymes she swam,
_With_, &c.
Untill she came unto the mildam. 10
_With_, &c.

The miller runne hastily downe the cliffe,
_With_, &c.
And up he betook her withouten her life.
_With_, &c.

What did he doe with her brest bone?
_With_, &c.
He made him a viall to play thereupon.
_With_, &c.

What did he doe with her fingers so small? 15
_With_, &c.
He made him peggs to his violl withall.
_With_, &c.

What did he doe with her nose-ridge?
_With_, &c.
Unto his violl he made him a bridge.
_With_, &c.

What did he do with her veynes so blewe?
_With_, &c.
He made him strings to his viole thereto. 20
_With_, &c.

What did he doe with her eyes so bright?
_With_, &c.
Upon his violl he played at first sight.
_With_, &c.

What did he doe with her tongue soe rough?
_With_, &c.
Unto the violl it spake enough.
_With_, &c.

What did he doe with her two shinnes? 25
_With_, &c.
Unto the violl they danct Moll Syms.
_With_, &c.

Then bespake the treble string,
_With_, &c.
"O yonder is my father the king."
_With_, &c.

Then bespake the second string,
_With_, &c.
"O yonder sitts my mother the queen." 30
_With_, &c.

And then bespake the stringes all three,
_With_, &c.
"O yonder is my sister that drowned mee."
_With_, &c.

Now pay the miller for his payne,
_With_, &c.
And let him bee gone in the divels name.
_With_, &c.

THE BONNY BOWS O' LONDON. See p. 231.

From Buchan's _Ballads of the North of Scotland_, ii. 128.

There were twa sisters in a bower,
_Hey wi' the gay and the grinding_;
And ae king's son hae courted them baith,
_At the bonny, bonny bows o' London_.

He courted the youngest wi' broach and ring, 5
_Hey wi' the gay and the grinding_;
He courted the eldest wi' some other thing,
_At the bonny, bonny bows o' London_.

It fell ance upon a day,
_Hey wi' the gay and the grinding_, 10
The eldest to the youngest did say,
_At the bonny, bonny bows o' London_:

"Will ye gae to yon Tweed mill dam,"
_Hey wi' the gay and the grinding_,
"And see our father's ships come to land?" 15
_At the bonny, bonny bows o' London_.

They baith stood up upon a stane,
_Hey wi' the gay and the grinding_;
The eldest dang the youngest in,
_At the bonny, bonny bows o' London_. 20

She swimmed up, sae did she down,
_Hey wi' the gay and the grinding_;
Till she came to the Tweed mill-dam,
_At the bonny, bonny bows o' London_.

The miller's servant he came out, 25
_Hey wi' the gay and the grinding_;
And saw the lady floating about,
_At the bonny, bonny bows o' London_.

"O master, master, set your mill,"
_Hey wi' the gay and the grinding_; 30
"There is a fish, or a milk-white swan,"
_At the bonny, bonny bows o' London_.

They could not ken her yellow hair,
_Hey wi' the gay and the grinding_;
[For] the scales o' gowd that were laid there, 35
_At the bonny, bonny bows o' London_.

They could not ken her fingers sae white,
_Hey wi' the gay and the grinding_;
The rings o' gowd they were sae bright,
_At the bonny, bonny bows o' London_. 40

They could not ken her middle sae jimp,
_Hey wi' the gay and the grinding_;
The stays o' gowd were so well laced,
_At the bonny, bonny bows o' London_.

They could not ken her foot sae fair, 45
_Hey wi' the gay and the grinding_;
The shoes o' gowd they were so rare,
_At the bonny, bonny bows o' London_.

Her father's fiddler he came by,
_Hey wi' the gay and the grinding_; 50
Upstarted her ghaist before his eye,
_At the bonny, bonny bows o' London_.

"Ye'll take a lock o' my yellow hair,"
_Hey wi' the gay and the grinding_;
"Ye'll make a string to your fiddle there," 55
_At the bonny, bonny bows o' London_.

"Ye'll take a lith o' my little finger bane,"
_Hey wi' the gay and the grinding_;
"And ye'll make a pin to your fiddle then,"
_At the bonny, bonny bows o' London_. 60