Chapter IV: Book II: Glasgerion (1)

The two following ballads have the same subject, and perhaps had a common original. The "Briton GLASKYRION" is honourably mentioned as a harper by Chaucer, in company with Chiron, Orion, and Orpheus, (_House of Fame_, B. iii. v. 118,) and with the last he is also associated, as Mr. Finlay has pointed out, by Bishop Douglas, in the _Palice of Honour_. "The Scottish writers," says Jamieson, "adapting the name to their own meridian, call him GLENKINDY, GLENSKEENIE, &c."

_Glasgerion_ is reprinted from Percy's _Reliques_, iii. 83.

Glasgerion was a kings owne sonne,
And a harper he was goode;
He harped in the kings chambere,
Where cuppe and caudle stoode,
And soe did hee in the queens chambere, 5
Till ladies waxed wood,

And then bespake the kinges daughter,
And these wordes thus shee sayd:--

"Strike on, strike on, Glasgerion,
Of thy striking doe not blinne; 10
Theres never a stroke comes oer thy harpe,
But it glads my hart withinne."

"Faire might him fall,[L13] ladye," quoth hee,
"Who taught you nowe to speake!
I have loved you, ladye, seven longe yeere, 15
My harte I neere durst breake."

"But come to my bower, my Glasgerion,
When all men are att rest:
As I am a ladie true of my promise,
Thou shalt bee a welcome guest." 20

Home then came Glasgerion,
A glad man, lord! was hee:
"And, come thou hither, Jacke my boy,
Come hither unto mee.

"For the kinges daughter of Normandye 25
Hath granted mee my boone;
And att her chambere must I bee
Beffore the cocke have crowen."

"O master, master," then quoth hee,
"Lay your head downe on this stone; 30
For I will waken you, master deere,
Afore it be time to gone."

But up then rose that lither ladd,
And hose and shoone did on;
A coller he cast upon his necke, 35
Hee seemed a gentleman.

And when he came to the ladyes chamber,
He thrild upon a pinn:
The lady was true of her promise,
And rose and lett him inn. 40

He did not take the lady gaye
To boulster nor to bed:
[Nor thoughe hee had his wicked wille,
A single word he sed.]

He did not kisse that ladyes mouthe, 45
Nor when he came, nor yode:
And sore that ladye did mistrust,
He was of some churls bloud.

But home then came that lither ladd,
And did off his hose and shoone; 50
And cast the coller from off his necke:
He was but a churl[e']s sonne.

"Awake, awake, my deere master,
The cock hath well-nigh crowen;
Awake, awake, my master deere, 55
I hold it time to be gone.

"For I have saddled your horsse, master,
Well bridled I have your steede,
And I have served you a good breakfast,
For thereof ye have need." 60

Up then rose good Glasgerion,
And did on hose and shoone,
And cast a coller about his necke:
For he was a kinge his sonne.

And when he came to the ladyes chambere, 65
He thrilled upon the pinne;
The ladye was more than true of promise,
And rose and let him inn.

"O whether have you left with me
Your bracelet or your glove? 70
Or are you returned back againe
To know more of my love?"

Glasgerion swore a full great othe,
By oake, and ashe, and thorne;
"Ladye, I was never in your chambere, 75
Sith the time that I was borne."

"O then it was your lither[L77] foot-page,
He hath beguiled mee:"
Then shee pulled forth a little pen-kn[i']ffe,
That hanged by her knee. 80

Sayes, "there shall never noe churl[e']s blood
Within my bodye spring:
No churl[e']s blood shall e'er defile
The daughter of a kinge."

Home then went Glasgerion, 85
And woe, good lord! was hee:
Sayes, "come thou hither, Jacke my boy,
Come hither unto mee.

"If I had killed a man to-night,
Jack, I would tell it thee: 90
But if I have not killed a man to-night,
Jacke, thou hast killed three."

And he puld out his bright browne sword,
And dryed it on his sleeve,
And he smote off that lither ladds head, 95
Who did his ladye grieve.

He sett the swords poynt till his brest,
The pummil untill a stone:
Throw the falsenesse of that lither ladd,
These three lives werne all gone. 100

13, him fall.

77, MS. litle.

GLENKINDIE.

From Jamieson's _Popular Ballads and Songs_, i. 91. The copy in the
_Thistle of Scotland_, p. 31, is the same.

Glenkindie was ance a harper gude,
He harped to the king;
And Glenkindie was ance the best harper
That ever harp'd on a string.

He'd harpit a fish out o' saut water,[L5] 5
Or water out o' a stane;
Or milk out o' a maiden's breast,
That bairn had never nane.

He's taen his harp intil his hand,
He harpit and he sang; 10
And ay as he harpit to the king,
To haud him unthought lang.

"I'll gie you a robe, Glenkindie,
A robe o' the royal pa',
Gin ye will harp i' the winter's night 15
Afore my nobles a'."

And the king but and his nobles a'[L17]
Sat birling at the wine;
And he wad hae but his ae dochter,
To wait on them at dine. 20

He's taen his harp intill his hand,
He's harpit them a' asleep,
Except it was the young countess,
That love did waukin keep.

And first he has harpit a grave tune,[L25] 25
And syne he has harpit a gay;
And mony a sich atween hands
I wat the lady gae.

Says, "Whan day is dawen, and cocks hae crawen,
And wappit their wings sae wide, 30
It's ye may come to my bower door,
And streek you by my side.

"But look that ye tell na Gib your man,
For naething that ye dee;
For, an ye tell him, Gib your man, 35
He'll beguile baith you and me."

He's taen his harp intill his hand;
He harpit and he sang;
And he is hame to Gib his man,
As fast as he could gang. 40

"O mith I tell you, Gib, my man,
Gin I a man had slain?"
"O that ye micht, my gude master,
Altho' ye had slain ten."

"Then tak ye tent now, Gib, my man, 45
My bidden for to dee;
And, but an ye wauken me in time,
Ye sall be hangit hie.

"Whan day has dawen, and cocks hae crawen,
And wappit their wings sae wide, 50
I'm bidden gang till yon lady's bower,
And streek me by her side."

"Gae hame to your bed, my good master;
Ye've waukit, I fear, o'er lang;
For I'll wauken you in as good time, 55
As ony cock i' the land."

He's taen his harp intill his hand,
He harpit and he sang,
Until he harpit his master asleep,
Syne fast awa did gang. 60

And he is till that lady's bower,
As fast as he could rin;
When he cam till that lady's bower,
He chappit at the chin.[L64]

"O wha is this," says that lady, 65
"That opens nae and comes in?"
"It's I, Glenkindie, your ain true love,
O open and lat me in!"

She kent he was nae gentle knicht
That she had latten in; 70
For neither whan he gaed nor cam,
Kist he her cheek or chin.

He neither kist her whan he cam,
Nor clappit her when he gaed;
And in and at her bower window, 75
The moon shone like the gleed.

"O, ragged is your hose, Glenkindie,
And riven is your sheen,
And reavel'd is your yellow hair
That I saw late yestreen." 80

"The stockings they are Gib my man's,
They came first to my hand;
And this is Gib my man's shoon;
At my bed feet they stand.
I've reavell'd a' my yellow hair 85
Coming against the wind."

He's taen the harp intill his hand,
He harpit and he sang,
Until he cam to his master,
As fast as he could gang. 90

"Won up, won up, my good master;
I fear ye sleep o'er lang;
There's nae a cock in a' the land
But has wappit his wings and crawn."

Glenkindie's tane his harp in hand, 95
He harpit and he sang,
And he has reach'd the lady's bower,
Afore that e'er he blan.

When he cam to the lady's bower,
He chappit at the chin; 100
"O, wha is that at my bower door,
That opens na and comes in?"
"It's I, Glenkindie, your ain true love,
And in I canna win."

* * * * *

"Forbid it, forbid it," says that lady, 105
"That ever sic shame betide;
That I should first be a wild loon's lass,
And than a young knight's bride."

There was nae pity for that lady,
For she lay cald and dead; 110
But a' was for him, Glenkindie,
In bower he must go mad.

He'd harpit a fish out o' saut water;
The water out o' a stane;
The milk out o' a maiden's breast, 115
That bairn had never nane.

He's taen his harp intill his hand;
Sae sweetly as it rang,
And wae and weary was to hear
Glenkindie's dowie sang.[L120] 120

But cald and dead was that lady,
Nor heeds for a' his maen;
An he wad harpit till domisday,
She'll never speak again.

He's taen his harp intill his hand; 125
He harpit and he sang;
And he is hame to Gib his man
As fast as he could gang.

"Come forth, come forth, now, Gib, my man,
Till I pay you your fee; 130
Come forth, come forth, now, Gib, my man;
Weel payit sall ye be!"

And he has taen him, Gib, his man,
And he has hang'd him hie;
And he's hangit him o'er his ain yate, 135
As high as high could be.

5-8, These feats are all but equalled by the musician in the Swedish and Danish _Harpans Kraft_.

"He harped the bark from every tree,
And he harped the young from folk and from fee.

"He harped the hind from the wild-wood home,
He harped the bairn from its mother's womb."
ARWIDSSON, No. 149.

"Villemand takes his harp in his hand,
He goes down by the water to stand.

"He struck the harp with his hand,
And the fish leapt out upon the strand."
GRUNDTVIG, No. 40.

17-20. This stanza is found in the opening of _Brown Robin_, which commences thus:--

"The king but and his nobles a'
Sat birling at the wine, [_bis_]
He would hae nane but his ae daughter
To wait on them at dine.

"She served them but, she served them ben,
Intill a gown o' green;
But her e'e was ay on Brown Robin,
That stood low under the rain," &c. J.

25-28. The following stanza occurs in one of the editor's copies of _The Gay Gosshawk_:--

"O first he sang a merry song,
And then he sang a grave;
And then he pecked his feathers gray,
To her the letter gave." J.

64, at the chin. Sic.

120. This stanza has been altered, to introduce a little variety, and prevent the monotonous tiresomeness of repetition. J.

THE OLD BALLAD OF LITTLE MUSGRAVE AND THE LADY BARNARD.

The popularity of this ancient ballad is evinced by its being frequently quoted in old plays. In Beaumont and Fletcher's _Knight of the Burning Pestle_, (produced in 1611,) the fourteenth stanza is cited, thus:

"And some they whistled and some they sung,
_Hey, down, down!_
And some did loudly say,
Ever as the lord Barnet's horn blew,
Away, Musgrave, away."
_Act V. Scene 3._

The oldest known copy of this piece is found in _Wit Restor'd_, (1658,) p. 174, and from the reprint of that publication we have taken it, (p. 293.) Dryden seems to have adopted it from the same source into his _Miscellanies_, and Ritson has inserted Dryden's version in _Ancient Songs and Ballads_, ii. 116. Percy's copy (_Reliques_, iii. 106,) was inferior to the one here used, and was besides somewhat altered by the editor.

A Scottish version, furnished by Jamieson, is given in the Appendix to this volume, and another, extending to forty-eight stanzas, in _Scottish Traditional Versions of Ancient Ballads_, Percy Society, vol. xvii. p. 21.

Similar incidents, with a verbal coincidence in one stanza, occur in the ballad immediately succeeding the present.

As it fell one holy-day, _hay downe_,
As manybe in the yeare,
When young men and maids together did goe,
Their mattins and masse to heare,

Little Musgrave came to the church dore, 5
The preist was at private masse;
But he had more minde of the faire women,
Then he had of our ladys[L8] grace.

The one of them was clad in green,
Another was clad in pall;[L10] 10
And then came in my lord Barnards[L11] wife,
The fairest amonst them all.

She cast an eye on little Musgrave,
As bright as the summer sun,
And then bethought this little Musgrave, 15
"This ladys heart have I woonn."

Quoth she, "I have loved thee, little Musgrave,
Full long and many a day:"
"So have I loved you, fair lady,
Yet never word durst I say." 20

"I have a bower at Buckelsfordbery,
Full daintyly it is deight;[L22]
If thou wilt wend thither, thou little Musgrave,
Thou's lig in mine armes all night."

Quoth he, "I thank yee, faire lady, 25
This kindnes thou showest to me;
But whether it be to my weal or woe,
This night I will lig[L28] with thee."

All that heard[L29] a little tinny page,
By his ladyes coach as he ran: 30
[Quoth he,] "allthough I am my ladyes foot-page,
Yet I am lord Barnards man.

"My lord Barnard shall knowe of this,
Whether I sink or swimm:"[L34]
And ever where the bridges were broake, 35
He laid him downe to swimme.

"Asleepe, awake![L37] thou lord Barnard,
As thou art a man of life;
For little Musgrave is at Bucklesfordbery,
Abed with thy own wedded wife." 40

"If this be true, thou little tinny page,
This thing thou tellest to mee,
Then all the land in Bucklesfordbery
I freely will give to thee.

"But if it be a ly, thou little tinny page, 45
This thing thou tellest to me,
On the hyest tree in Bucklesfordbery
There hanged shalt thou be."

He called up his merry men all:--
"Come saddle me my steed; 50
This night must I to Buckellsfordbery,
For I never had greater need."

And some of them whistl'd, and some of them sung,
And some these words did say,
Ever[L55] when my lord Barnards horn blew, 55
"Away, Musgrave, away!"

"Methinks I hear the thresel-cock,
Methinks I hear the jaye;
Methinks I hear my Lord Barnard,--
And I would I were away." 60

"Lye still, lye still, thou little Musgrave,
And huggell me from the cold;
Tis nothing but a shephards boy,
A driving his sheep to the fold.

"Is not thy hawke upon a perch? 65
Thy steed eats oats and hay,
And thou [a] fair lady in thine armes,--
And wouldst thou bee away?"

With that my lord Barnard came to the dore,
And lit a stone upon; 70
He plucked out three silver keys,
And he open'd the dores each one.

He lifted up the coverlett,
He lifted up the sheet;
"How now, how now, thou little Musgrave, 75
Doest thou find my lady sweet?"

"I find her sweet," quoth little Musgrave,
"The more 'tis to my paine;
I would gladly give three hundred pounds
That I were on yonder plaine." 80

"Arise, arise, thou littell Musgrave,
And put thy cloth['e]s on;
It shal ne'er be said in my country,
I have killed a naked man.

"I have two swords in one scabberd, 85
Full deere they cost my purse;
And thou shalt have the best of them,
And I will have the worse."

The first stroke that little Musgrave stroke,
He hurt Lord Barnard sore; 90
The next stroke that Lord Barnard stroke,
Little Musgrave ne're struck more.

With that bespake this faire lady,
In bed whereas she lay;
"Although thou'rt dead, thou little Musgrave, 95
Yet I for thee will pray;

"And wish well to thy soule will I,
So long as I have life;
So will I not for thee, Barnard,
Although I am thy wedded wife." 100

He cut her paps from off her brest,
(Great pity it was to see,)
That some drops of this ladies heart's blood
Ran trickling downe her knee.

"Woe worth you, woe worth [you], my mery men all, 105
You were ne're borne for my good;
Why did you not offer to stay my hand,
When ye saw[L108] me wax so wood!

"For I have slaine the bravest sir knight
That ever rode on steed; 110
So have I done the fairest lady
That ever did womans deed.

"A grave, a grave," Lord Barnard cryd,
"To put these lovers in;
But lay my lady on [the] upper hand, 115
For she came of the better kin."

8, lady.

10, pale.

11, Bernards.

22, geight.

28, wed.

29, With that he heard: tyne.

34, sinn.

37, or wake.

55, And ever.

108, see.

LORD RANDAL (A).

From Jamieson's _Popular Ballads and Songs_, i. 162.

"The story of this ballad very much resembles that of _Little Musgrave and Lord Barnard_. The common title is, _The Bonny Birdy_. The first stanza is sung thus:--

'There was a knight, on a summer's night,
Was riding o'er the lee, _diddle_;
And there he saw a bonny birdy
Was singing on a tree, _diddle_:
O wow for day, _diddle_!
And dear gin it were day!
Gin it were day, and I were away,
For I ha'ena lang time to stay.'

In the text, the burden of _diddle_ has been omitted; and the name of Lord Randal introduced, for the sake of distinction, and to prevent the ambiguity arising from 'the knight', which is equally applicable to both."

The lines supplied by Jamieson have been omitted.

Allan Cunningham's "improved" version of the _Bonny Birdy_ may be seen in his _Songs of Scotland_, ii. 130.

Lord Randal wight, on a summer's night,
Was riding o'er the lee,
And there he saw a bonny birdie
Was singin' on a tree:

"O wow for day! 5
And dear gin it were day!
Gin it were day, and I were away,
For I ha'ena lang time to stay!

"Mak haste, mak haste, ye wicht baron;
What keeps ye here sae late? 10
Gin ye kent what was doing at hame,
I trow ye wad look blate.

"And O wow for day!
And dear gin it were day.
Gin it were day, and ye were away; 15
For ye ha'ena lang time to stay!"

"O what needs I toil day and night,
My fair body to spill,
When I ha'e knichts at my command,
And ladies at my will?" 20

"O weel is he, ye wight baron,
Has the blear drawn o'er his e'e;
But your lady has a knight in her arms twa,
That she lo'es far better nor thee.

"And O wow for day! 25
And dear gin it were day!
Gin it were day, and ye were away;
For ye ha'ena lang time to stay!"

"Ye lie, ye lie, ye bonny birdie;
How you lie upon my sweet; 30
I will tak out my bonny bow,
And in troth I will you sheet."

"But afore ye ha'e your bow weel bent,
And a' your arrows yare,
I will flee till anither tree, 35
Whare I can better fare.

"And O wow for day
And dear gin it were day!
Gin it were day, and I were away;
For I ha'ena lang time to stay!" 40

"O whare was ye gotten, and where was ye clecked,
My bonny birdie, tell me?"
"O, I was clecked in good green wood,
Intill a holly tree;
A baron sae bald my nest herried, 45
And ga'e me to his ladie.

"Wi' good white bread, and farrow-cow milk,
He bade her feed me aft;
And ga'e her a little wee summer-dale wandie,
To ding me sindle and saft. 50

"Wi' good white bread, and farrow-cow milk,
I wat she fed me nought;
But wi' a little wee summer-dale wandie,
She dang me sair and oft:--
Gin she had done as ye her bade, 55
I wadna tell how she has wrought.

"And O wow for day!
And dear gin it were day!
Gin it were day, and ye were away;
For ye ha'ena lang time to stay." 60

Lord Randal rade, and the birdie flew,
The live-lang summer's night,
Till he cam till his lady's bower-door,
Then even down he did light.
The birdie sat on the crap o' a tree, 65
And I wat it sang fu' dight:

"O wow for day!
And dear gin it were day!
Gin it were day, and I were away;
For I ha'ena lang time to stay!" 70

* * * * * * *

"O wow for day!
And dear gin it were day!
Gin it were day, and ye were away;
For ye ha'ena lang time to stay!"

"Now Christ assoile me o' my sin," 75
The fause knight he could say;
"It's nae for nought that the hawk whistles;[L77]
And I wish that I were away!

"And O wow for day!
And dear gin it were day! 80
Gin it were day, and I were away;
For I ha'ena lang time to stay!"

"What needs ye lang for day,
And wish that ye were away?
Is na your hounds in my cellar 85
Eating white meal and gray?"

"Yet, O wow for day!
And dear gin it were day!
Gin it were day, and I were away,
For I ha'ena lang time to stay!" 90

"Is na your horse in my stable,
Eating good corn and hay?
Is na your hawk on my perch tree,
Just perching for his prey?
And isna yoursel in my arms twa; 95
Then how can ye lang for day?"

"Yet, O wow for day!
And dear gin it were day!
Gin it were day, and I were away,
For I ha'ena lang time to stay. 100

"Yet, O wow for day!
And dear gin it were day!
For he that's in bed wi' anither man's wife,
Has never lang time to stay."

* * * * * * *

Then out Lord Randal drew his brand, 105
And straiked it o'er a strae;
And through and through the fause knight's waste
He gar'd cald iron gae;
And I hope ilk ane sall sae be serv'd,
That treats an honest man sae! 110

77, This is a proverbial saying in Scotland. J.

GIL MORRICE.

"Of the many ancient ballads which have been preserved by tradition among the peasantry of Scotland, none has excited more interest in the world of letters than the beautiful and pathetic tale of _Gil Morice_; and this, no less on account of its own intrinsic merits as a piece of exquisite poetry, than of its having furnished the plot of the justly celebrated tragedy of _Douglas_. It has likewise supplied Mr. Langhorne with the principal materials from which he has woven the fabric of his sweet, though prolix poem of _Owen of Carron_. Perhaps the list could be easily increased of those who have drawn their inspiration from this affecting strain of Olden Minstrelsy.

"If any reliance is to be placed on the traditions of that part of the country where the scene of the ballad is laid, we will be enforced to believe that it is founded on facts which occurred at some remote period of Scottish History. The 'grene wode' of the ballad was the ancient forest of Dundaff, in Stirlingshire, and Lord Barnard's Castle is said to have occupied a precipitous cliff, overhanging the water of Carron, on the lands of Halbertshire. A small burn, which joins the Carron about five miles above these lands, is named the Earlsburn, and the hill near the source of that stream is called the Earlshill, both deriving their appellations, according to the unvarying traditions of the country, from the unfortunate Erle's son who is the hero of the ballad. He, also, according to the same respectable authority, was 'beautiful exceedingly', and especially remarkable for the extreme length and loveliness of his yellow hair, which shrouded him as it were a golden mist. To these floating traditions we are, probably, indebted for the attempts which have been made to improve and embellish the ballad, by the introduction of various new stanzas since its first appearance in a printed form.

"In Percy's _Reliques_, it is mentioned that it had run through two editions in Scotland, the second of which appeared at Glasgow in 1755, 8vo.; and that to both there was prefixed an advertisement, setting forth that the preservation of the poem was owing 'to a lady, who favoured the printers with a copy, as it was carefully collected from the mouths of old women and nurses', and requesting that 'any reader, who could render it more correct or complete, would oblige the public with such improvements'. This was holding out too tempting a bait not to be greedily snapped at by some of those 'Ingenious Hands' who have corrupted the purity of legendary song in Scotland by manifest forgeries and gross impositions. Accordingly, sixteen additional verses soon appeared in manuscript, which the Editor of the _Reliques_ has inserted in their proper places, though he rightly views them in no better light than that of an ingenious interpolation. Indeed, the whole ballad of _Gil Morice_, as the writer of the present notice has been politely informed by the learned and elegant Editor of the _Border Minstrelsy_, underwent a total revisal about the period when the tragedy of _Douglas_ was in the zenith of its popularity, and this improved copy, it seems, embraced the ingenious interpolation above referred to. Independent altogether of this positive information, any one, familiar with the state in which traditionary poetry has been transmitted to the present times, can be at no loss to detect many more 'ingenious interpolations', as well as paraphrastic additions, in the ballad as now printed. But, though it has been grievously corrupted in this way, the most scrupulous inquirer into the authenticity of ancient song can have no hesitation in admitting that many of its verses, even as they now stand, are purely traditionary, and fair, and genuine parcels of antiquity, unalloyed with any base admixture of modern invention, and in nowise altered, save in those changes of language to which all oral poetry is unavoidably subjected, in its progress from one age to another." MOTHERWELL.

We have given _Gil Morrice_ as it stands in the _Reliques_, (iii. 132,) degrading to the margin those stanzas which are undoubtedly spurious, and we have added an ancient traditionary version, obtained by Motherwell, which, if it appear short and crude, is at least comparatively incorrupt. _Chield Morice_, taken down from recitation, and printed in Motherwell's _Minstrelsy_, (p. 269,) nearly resembles _Gil Morrice_, as here exhibited. We have also inserted in the Appendix _Childe Maurice_, "the very old imperfect copy," mentioned in the _Reliques_, and first published from the Percy MS. by Jamieson.

The sets of _Gil Morrice_ in the collections of Herd, Pinkerton, Ritson, &c., are all taken from Percy.

Gil Morrice was an erles son,
His name it waxed wide:
It was nae for his great riches,
Nor zet his mickle pride;
Bot it was for a lady gay[L5] 5
That liv'd on Carron side.

"Quhair sall I get a bonny boy,
That will win hose and shoen;
That will gae to Lord Barnard's ha',
And bid his lady cum? 10

"And ze maun rin my errand, Willie,
And ze may rin wi' pride;
Quhen other boys gae on their foot,
On horseback ze sall ride."

"O no! O no! my master dear! 15
I dare nae for my life;
I'll no gae to the bauld barons,
For to triest furth his wife."

"My bird Willie, my boy Willie,
My dear Willie," he sayd: 20
"How can ze strive against the stream?
For I sall be obeyd."

"Bot, O my master dear!" he cry'd,
"In grene wod ze're zour lain;
Gi owre sic thochts, I walde ze rede, 25
For fear ze should be tain."

"Haste, haste, I say, gae to the ha',
Bid hir cum here wi' speid:
If ze refuse my heigh command,
I'll gar zour body bleid. 30

"Gae bid hir take this gay mantel,
'T is a' gowd bot the hem;
Bid hir cum to the gude grene wode,
And bring nane hot hir lain:

"And there it is, a silken sarke, 35
Hir ain hand sewd the sleive;
And bid hir cum to Gill Morice,
Speir nae bauld barons leave."

"Yes, I will gae zour black errand,
Though it be to zour cost; 40
Sen ze by me will nae be warn'd,
In it ze sall find frost.

"The baron he is a man of might,
He neir could bide to taunt;
As ze will see, before it's nicht, 45
How sma' ze hae to vaunt.

"And sen I maun zour errand rin
Sae sair against my will,
I'se mak a vow and keip it trow,
It sall be done for ill." 50

And quhen he came to broken brigue,[L51]
He bent his bow and swam;
And quhen he came to grass growing,
Set down his feet and ran.

And quhen he came to Barnard's ha', 55
Would neither chap nor ca';
Bot set his bent bow to his breist,
And lichtly lap the wa'.

He wauld nae tell the man his errand,
Though he stude at the gait; 60
Bot straiht into the ha' he cam,
Quhair they were set at meit.

"Hail! hail! my gentle sire and dame!
My message winna waite;
Dame, ze maun to the gude grene wod, 65
Before that it be late.

"Ze're bidden tak this gay mantel,
'Tis a' gowd bot the hem:
Zou maun gae to the gude grene wode,
Ev'n by your sel alane. 70

"And there it is, a silken sarke,
Your ain hand sewd the sleive:
Ze maun gae speik to Gill Morice;
Speir nae bauld barons leave."

The lady stamped wi' hir foot, 75
And winked wi' hir ee;
But a' that she could say or do,
Forbidden he wad nae bee.

"It's surely to my bow'r-woman;
It neir could be to me." 80
"I brocht it to Lord Barnard's lady;
I trow that ze be she."

Then up and spack the wylie nurse,
(The bairn upon hir knee):
"If it be cum frae Gill Morice, 85
It's deir welcum to mee."

"Ze leid, ze leid, ze filthy nurse,
Sae loud I heird ze lee;
I brocht it to Lord Barnard's lady;
I trow ze be nae shee." 90

Then up and spack the bauld baron,
An angry man was hee;
He's tain the table wi' his foot,
Sae has he wi' his knee,
Till siller cup and ezer[L95] dish 95
In flinders he gard flee.

"Gae bring a robe of zour cliding,
That hings upon the pin;
And I'll gae to the gude grene wode,
And speik wi' zour lemman." 100

"O bide at hame, now, Lord Barnard,
I warde ze bide at hame;
Neir wyte a man for violence,
That neir wate ze wi' nane."

Gil Morice sate in gude grene wode, 105
He whistled and he sang:
"O what mean a' the folk coming?
My mother tarries lang."

The baron came to the grene wode,[L109]
Wi' mickle dule and care; 110
And there he first spied Gill Morice
Kameing his zellow hair.

"Nae wonder, nae wonder, Gill Morice,
My lady loed thee weel;
The fairest part of my bodie 115
Is blacker than thy heel.

"Zet neir the less now, Gill Morice,
For a' thy great beautie,
Ze's rew the day ze eir was born;
That head sall gae wi' me." 120

Now he has drawn his trusty brand,
And slait it[L122] on the strae;
And thro' Gill Morice' fair body
He's gar cauld iron gae.

And he has tain Gill Morice' head,[L125] 125
And set it on a speir:
The meanest man in a' his train
Has gotten that head to bear.

And he has tain Gill Morice up,
Laid him across his steid, 130
And brocht him to his painted bowr,
And laid him on a bed.

The lady sat on castil wa',
Beheld baith dale and doun;
And there she saw Gill Morice' head 135
Cum trailing to the toun.

"Far better I loe that bluidy head,
Bot and that zellow hair,
Than Lord Barnard, and a' his lands,
As they lig here and thair." 140

And she has tain her Gill Morice,
And kissd baith mouth and chin:
"I was once as fow of Gill Morice,
As the hip is o' the stean.

"I got ze in my father's house, 145
Wi' mickle sin and shame;
I brocht thee up in gude green wode,
Under the heavy rain.

"Oft have I by thy cradle sitten,
And fondly seen thee sleip; 150
Bot now I gae about thy grave,
The saut tears for to weip."

And syne she kissd[L153] his bluidy cheik,
And syne his bluidy chin:
"O better I loe my Gill Morice 155
Than a' my kith and kin!"

"Away, away, ze il woman,[L157]
And an ill deith mait ze dee:
Gin I had ken'd he'd bin zour son,
He'd neir bin slain for mee." 160

5. The stall copies of the ballad complete the stanza thus:

_His face was fair, lang was his hair,
In the wild woods he staid_;
But his fame was for a fair lady
That lived on Carronside.

Which is no injudicious interpolation, inasmuch as it is founded upon the traditions current among the vulgar, regarding Gil Morice's comely face and long yellow hair. MOTHERWELL.

51-58. A familiar commonplace in ballad poetry. See _Childe Vyet_, _Lady Maisry_, _Lord Barnaby_, &c.

95, mazer.

109

His hair was like the threeds of gold
Drawne frae Minerva's loome;
His lipps like roses drapping dew;
His breath was a' perfume.

His brow was like the mountain snae
Gilt by the morning beam;
His cheeks like living roses glow;
His een like azure stream.

The boy was clad in robes of grene,
Sweete as the infant spring;
And like the mavis on the bush,
He gart the vallies ring.

122, slaited.

125

That sweetly wavd around his face,
That face beyond compare;
He sang sae sweet, it might dispel
A' rage but fell dispair.

153. Stall copy, And _first_ she kissed.

157

"Obraid me not, my Lord Barnard!
Obraid me not for shame!
Wi' that saim speir, O pierce my heart!
And put me out o' pain.

"Since nothing bot Gill Morice' head
Thy jelous rage could quell,
Let that saim hand now tak hir life
That neir to thee did ill.

"To me nae after days nor nichts
Will eir be saft or kind;
I'll fill the air with heavy sighs,
And greet till I am blind."

"Enouch of blood by me's bin spilt,
Seek not zour death frae me;
I rather lourd it had been my sel
Than eather him or thee.

"With waefo wae I hear zour plaint;
Sair, sair I rew the deid,
That eir this cursed hand of mine
Had gard his body bleid.

"Dry up zour tears, my winsome dame,
Ze neir can heal the wound;
Ze see his head upon the speir,
His heart's blude on the ground.

"I curse the hand that did the deid,
The heart that thocht the ill;
The feet that bore me wi' sik speid,
The comely zouth to kill.

"I'll ay lament for Gill Morice,
As gin he were mine ain;
I'll neir forget the dreiry day
On which the zouth was slain."

CHILD NORYCE.

From Motherwell's _Minstrelsy_, p. 282.

"By testimony of a most unexceptionable description,--but which it would be tedious here to detail,--the Editor can distinctly trace this ballad as existing in its present shape at least a century ago, which carries it decidedly beyond the date of the first printed copy of _Gil Morice_; and this with a poem which has been preserved but by oral tradition, is no mean _positive_ antiquity."

In the Introduction to his collection, Motherwell mentions his having found a more complete copy of this ballad under the title of _Babe Nourice_.

Child Noryce is a clever young man,
He wavers wi' the wind;
His horse was silver shod before,
With the beaten gold behind.

He called to his little man John, 5
Saying, "You don't see what I see;
For O yonder I see the very first woman
That ever loved me.

"Here is a glove, a glove," he said,
"Lined with the silver gris; 10
You may tell her to come to the merry green wood,
To speak to Child Nory.

"Here is a ring, a ring," he says,
"It's all gold but the stane;
You may tell her to come to the merry green wood, 15
And ask the leave o' nane."

"So well do I love your errand, my master,
But far better do I love my life;
O would ye have me go to Lord Barnard's castel,
To betray away his wife?" 20

"O don't I give you meat," he says,
"And don't I pay you fee?
How dare you stop my errand?" he says;
"My orders you must obey."

O when he came to Lord Barnard's castel, 25
He tinkled at the ring;
Who was as ready as Lord Barnard[L27] himself
To let this little boy in?

"Here is a glove, a glove," he says,
"Lined with the silver gris; 30
You are bidden to come to the merry green wood,
To speak to Child Nory.

"Here is a ring, a ring," he says,
"It's all gold but the stane:
You are bidden to come to the merry green wood, 35
And ask the leave o' nane."

Lord Barnard he was standing by,
And an angry man was he:
"O little did I think there was a lord in this world
My lady loved but me!" 40

O he dressed himself in the Holland smocks,
And garments that was gay;
And he is away to the merry green wood,
To speak to Child Nory.

Child Noryce sits on yonder tree, 45
He whistles and he sings:
"O wae be to me," says Child Noryce,
"Yonder my mother comes!"

Child Noryce he came off the tree,
His mother to take off the horse: 50
"Och alace, alace," says Child Noryce,
"My mother was ne'er so gross."

Lord Barnard he had a little small sword,
That hung low down by his knee;
He cut the head off Child Noryce, 55
And put the body on a tree.

And when he came to his castel,
And to his lady's hall,
He threw the head into her lap,
Saying, "Lady, there is a ball!" 60

She turned up the bloody head,
She kissed it frae cheek to chin:
"Far better do I love this bloody head
Than all my royal kin.

"When I was in my father's castell, 65
In my virginitie,
There came a lord into the North,
Gat Child Noryce with me."

"O wae be to thee, Lady Margaret," he said,
"And an ill death may you die; 70
For if you had told me he was your son,
He had ne'er been slain by me."

27. This unquestionably should be Lady Barnard, instead of her lord. See third stanza under. M.

CLERK SAUNDERS.

From the _Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_, (iii. 175,) where it was first published. It was "taken from Mr. Herd's MSS., with several corrections from a shorter and more imperfect copy in the same volume, and one or two conjectural emendations in the arrangement of the stanzas."

That that part of the ballad which follows the death of the lovers is an independent story, is obvious both from internal evidence, and from the separate existence of those concluding stanzas in a variety of forms: as, _Sweet William's Ghost_, (_Tea-Table Miscellany_, ii. 142,) _Sweet William and May Margaret_, (Kinloch, p. 241,) _William and Marjorie_, (Motherwell, p. 186.) Of this second part, Motherwell observes, that it is often made the tail-piece to other ballads where a deceased lover appears to his mistress. The two were, however, combined by Sir Walter Scott, and the present Editor has contented himself with indicating distinctly the close of the proper story.

An inferior copy of _Clerk Saunders_, published by Jamieson, is inserted in the Appendix, for the sake of a few valuable stanzas. It resembles the Swedish ballad of _The Cruel Brother_, (_Svenska Folk-Visor_, iii. 107,) which, however, is much shorter. The edition of Buchan, (i. 160,) is entirely worthless. A North-Country version of the First Part is given by Kinloch, _Ancient Scottish Ballads_, 233.

PART FIRST.

Clerk Saunders and may Margaret,
Walked ower yon garden green;
And sad and heavy was the love
That fell thir twa between.

"A bed, a bed," Clerk Saunders said, 5
"A bed for you and me!"--
"Fye na, fye na," said may Margaret,
"Till anes we married be;

"For in may come my seven bauld brothers,
Wi' torches burning bright; 10
They'll say--'We hae but ae sister,
And behold she's wi' a knight!'"--

"Then take the sword from my scabbard,
And slowly lift the pin;
And you may swear, and safe your aith, 15
Ye never let Clerk Saunders in.

"And take a napkin in your hand,
And tie up baith your bonny een;
And you may swear, and safe your aith,
Ye saw me na since late yestreen."[L20] 20

It was about the midnight hour,
When they asleep were laid,
When in and came her seven brothers,
Wi' torches burning red.

When in and came her seven brothers, 25
Wi' torches burning bright;
They said, "We hae but ae sister,
And behold her lying with a knight!"

Then out and spake the first o' them,
"I bear the sword shall gar him die!" 30
And out and spake the second o' them,
"His father has nae mair than he!"

And out and spake the third o' them,
"I wot that they are lovers dear!"
And out and spake the fourth o' them, 35
"They hae been in love this mony a year!"

Then out and spake the fifth o' them,
"It were great sin true love to twain!"
And out and spake the sixth of them,
"It were shame to slay a sleeping man!" 40

Then up and gat the seventh o' them,
And never a word spake he;
But he has striped his bright brown brand
Out through Clerk Saunders' fair bodye.

Clerk Saunders he started, and Margaret she turn'd 45
Into his arms as asleep she lay;
And sad and silent was the night
That was atween thir twae.

And they lay still and sleeped sound,
Until the day began to daw; 50
And kindly to him she did say,
"It is time, true love, you were awa."

But he lay still, and sleeped sound,
Albeit the sun began to sheen;
She looked atween her and the wa', 55
And dull and drowsie were his een.

Then in and came her father dear,
Said--"Let a' your mourning be:
I'll carry the dead corpse to the clay,
And I'll come back and comfort thee."-- 60

"Comfort weel your seven sons,
For comforted will I never be:
I ween 'twas neither knave nor loon
Was in the bower last night wi' me."--

20. In Kinloch's version of this ballad we have an additional stanza here:--

----"Ye'll take me in your arms twa,
Ye'll carry me into your bed,
And ye may swear, and save your aith,
That in your bour floor I ne'er gae'd."

PART SECOND.

The clinking bell gaed through the town,[L1]
To carry the dead corse to the clay;
And Clerk Saunders stood at may Margaret's window,
I wot, an hour before the day.

"Are ye sleeping, Margaret?" he says, 5
"Or are ye waking presentlie?
Give me my faith and troth again,
I wot, true love, I gied to thee."--

"Your faith and troth ye sall never get,
Nor our true love sall never twin, 10
Until ye come within my bower,
And kiss me cheik and chin."--

"My mouth it is full cold, Margaret,
It has the smell, now, of the ground;
And if I kiss thy comely mouth, 15
Thy days of life will not be lang.

"O cocks are crowing a merry midnight,
I wot the wild fowls are boding day;
Give me my faith and troth again,
And let me fare me on my way."-- 20

"Thy faith and troth thou sall na get,
And our true love shall never twin,
Until ye tell what comes of women,
I wot, who die in strong traiveling."

"Their beds are made in the heavens high, 25
Down at the foot of our good Lord's knee,
Weel set about wi' gillyflowers;
I wot sweet company for to see.

"O cocks are crowing a merry midnight,
I wot the wild fowl are boding day; 30
The psalms of heaven will soon be sung,
And I, ere now, will be miss'd away."--

Then she has ta'en a crystal[L33] wand,
And she has stroken her troth thereon;
She has given it him out at the shot-window, 35
Wi' mony a sad sigh, and heavy groan.

"I thank ye, Marg'ret; I thank ye, Marg'ret;
And aye I thank ye heartilie;
Gin ever the dead come for the quick,
Be sure, Marg'ret, I'll come for thee."-- 40

It's hosen and shoon and gown alone,
She climb'd the wall, and follow'd him,
Until she came to the green forest,
And there she lost the sight o' him.

"Is there ony room at your head, Saunders? 45
Is there ony room at your feet?
Or ony room at your side, Saunders,
Where fain, fain, I wad sleep?"--

"There's nae room at my head, Marg'ret,
There's nae room at my feet; 50
My bed it is full lowly now:
Amang the hungry worms I sleep.

"Cauld mould is my covering now,
But and my winding-sheet;
The dew it falls nae sooner down, 55
Than my resting place is weet.

"But plait a wand o' bonny birk,[L57]
And lay it on my breast;
And shed a tear upon my grave,
And wish my saul gude rest. 60

"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."--

Then up and crew the milk-white cock, 65
And up and crew the grey;
Her lover vanish'd in the air,
And she gaed weeping away.

1. The custom of the passing bell is still kept up in many villages in Scotland. The sexton goes through the town, ringing a small bell, and announcing the death of the departed, and the time of the funeral. SCOTT.

33. Chrisom.

57. The custom of binding the new-laid sod of the churchyard with osiers, or other saplings, prevailed both in England and Scotland, and served to protect the turf from injury by cattle, or otherwise. SCOTT.

SWEET WILLIE AND LADY MARGERIE.

From Motherwell's _Minstrelsy_, p. 370.

"This Ballad, which possesses considerable beauty and pathos, is given from the recitation of a lady, now far advanced in years, with whose grandmother it was a deserved favourite. It is now for the first time printed. It bears some resemblance to _Clerk Saunders_."

Subjoined is a different copy from Buchan's _Ballads of the North of Scotland_.

Sweet Willie was a widow's son,
And he wore a milk-white weed O;
And weel could Willie read and write,
Far better ride on steed O.

Lady Margerie was the first ladye 5
That drank to him the wine O;
And aye as the healths gaed round and round,
"Laddy, your love is mine O."

Lady Margerie was the first ladye
That drank to him the beer O; 10
And aye as the healths gaed round and round,
Laddy, ye're welcome here O.

"You must come intill my bower,
When the evening bells do ring O;
And you must come intill my bower, 15
When the evening mass doth sing O."

He's taen four-and-twenty braid arrows,
And laced them in a whang O;
And he's awa to Lady Margerie's bower,
As fast as he can gang O. 20

He set his ae foot on the wa',
And the other on a stane O;
And he's kill'd a' the king's life guards,
He's kill'd them every man O.

"O open, open, Lady Margerie, 25
Open and let me in O;
The weet weets a' my yellow hair,
And the dew draps on my chin O."

With her feet as white as sleet,
She strode her bower within O; 30
And with her fingers lang and sma',
She's looten sweet Willie in O.

She's louted down unto his foot,
To lowze sweet Willie's shoon O;
The buckles were sae stiff they wadna lowze, 35
The blood had frozen in O.

"O Willie, O Willie, I fear that thou
Hast bred me dule and sorrow;
The deed that thou hast done this nicht
Will kythe upon the morrow." 40

In then came her father dear,
And a braid sword by his gare O;
And he's gien Willie, the widow's son,
A deep wound and a sair O.

"Lye yont, lye yont, Willie," she says, 45
"Your sweat weets a' my side O;
Lye yont, lye yont, Willie," she says,
"For your sweat I downa bide O."

She turned her back unto the wa',
Her face unto the room O; 50
And there she saw her auld father,
Fast walking up and doun O.

"Woe be to you, father," she said,
"And an ill deid may you die O;
For ye've killed Willie, the widow's son, 55
And he would have married me O."

She turned her back unto the room,
Her face unto the wa' O;
And with a deep and heavy sich,
Her heart it brak in twa O. 60

WILLIE AND LADY MAISRY.

From Buchan's _Ballads of the North of Scotland_, i. 155.

_The Bent sae Brown_, in the same volume, p. 30, resembles both _Clerk Saunders_ and the present ballad, but has a different catastrophe.

Sweet Willie was a widow's son,
And milk-white was his weed;
It sets him weel to bridle a horse,
And better to saddle a steed, my dear,
And better to saddle a steed. 5

But he is on to Maisry's bower door,
And tirled at the pin;
"Ye sleep ye, wake ye, Lady Maisry,
Ye'll open, let me come in, my dear,
Ye'll open, let me come in." 10

"O who is this at my bower door,
Sae well that knows my name?"
"It is your ain true love, Willie,
If ye love me, lat me in, my dear,
If ye love me, lat me in." 15

Then huly, huly raise she up,
For fear o' making din;
Then in her arms lang and bent,
She caught sweet Willie in, my dear,
She caught sweet Willie in. 20

She lean'd her low down to her toe,
To loose her true love's sheen;
But cauld, cauld were the draps o' bleed,
Fell fae his trusty brand, my dear,
Fell fae his trusty brand. 25

"What frightfu' sight is that, my love?
A frightfu' sight to see;
What bluid is this on your sharp brand,
O may ye not tell me, my dear?
O may ye not tell me?" 30

"As I came thro' the woods this night,
The wolf maist worried me;
O shou'd I slain the wolf, Maisry?
Or shou'd the wolf slain me, my dear?
Or shou'd the wolf slain me?" 35

They hadna kiss'd nor love clapped,
As lovers when they meet,
Till up it starts her auld father,
Out o' his drowsy sleep, my dear,
Out o' his drowsy sleep. 40

"O what's become o' my house cock
Sae crouse at ane did craw?
I wonder as much at my bold watch,
That's nae shootin ower the wa', my dear,
That's nae shooting ower the wa'. 45

"My gude house cock, my only son,
Heir ower my land sae free;
If ony ruffian hae him slain,
High hanged shall he be, my dear,
High hanged shall he be." 50

Then he's on to Maisry's bower door,
And tirled at the pin;
"Ye sleep ye, wake ye, daughter Maisry,
Ye'll open, lat me come in, my dear,
Ye'll open, lat me come in." 55

Between the curtains and the wa',
She row'd her true love then;
And huly went she to the door,
And let her father in, my dear,
And let her father in. 60

"What's become o' your maries, Maisry,
Your bower it looks sae teem?
What's become o' your green claithing?
Your beds they are sae thin, my dear,
Your beds they are sae thin." 65

"Gude forgie you, father," she said,
"I wish ye be't for sin;
Sae aft as ye hae dreaded me,
But never found me wrang, my dear,
But never found me wrang." 70

He turn'd him right and round about,
As he'd been gaun awa';
But sae nimbly as he slippet in,
Behind a screen sae sma', my dear,
Behind a screen sae sma'. 75

Maisry thinking a' dangers past,
She to her love did say;
"Come, love, and take your silent rest,
My auld father's away, my dear,
My auld father's away!" 80

Then baith lock'd in each other's arms,
They fell full fast asleep;
When up it starts her auld father,
And stood at their bed feet, my dear,
And stood at their bed feet. 85