Chapter V: Book II: Glasgerion (2)

"I think I hae the villain now,
That my dear son did slay;
But I shall be reveng'd on him,
Before I see the day, my dear,
Before I see the day." 90

Then he's drawn out a trusty brand,
And stroak'd it o'er a stray;
And thro' and thro' sweet Willie's middle
He's gart cauld iron gae, my dear,
He's gart cauld iron gae. 95

Then up it waken'd Lady Maisry,
Out o' her drowsy sleep;
And when she saw her true love slain,
She straight began to weep, my dear,
She straight began to weep. 100

"O gude forgie you now, father," she said,
"I wish ye be't for sin;
For I never lov'd a love but ane,
In my arms ye've him slain, my dear,
In my arms ye've him slain." 105

"This night he's slain my gude bold watch,
Thirty stout men and twa;
Likewise he's slain your ae brother,
To me was worth them a', my dear,
To me was worth them a'." 110

"If he has slain my ae brither,
Himsell had a' the blame;
For mony a day he plots contriv'd,
To hae sweet Willie slain, my dear,
To hae sweet Willie slain. 115

"And tho' he's slain your gude bold watch,
He might hae been forgien;
They came on him in armour bright,
When he was but alane, my dear,
When he was but alane." 120

Nae meen was made for this young knight,
In bower where he lay slain;
But a' was for sweet Maisry bright,
In fields where she ran brain, my dear,
In fields where she ran brain. 125

THE CLERK'S TWA SONS O' OWSENFORD.

"This singularly wild and beautiful old ballad," says Chambers, (_Scottish Ballads_, p. 345,) "is chiefly taken from the recitation of the editor's grandmother, who learned it, when a girl, nearly seventy years ago, from a Miss Anne Gray, resident at Neidpath Castle, Peeblesshire; some additional stanzas, and a few various readings, being adopted from a less perfect, and far less poetical copy, published in Mr. Buchan's [_Ancient Ballads and Songs of the North of Scotland_, i. 281,] and from a fragment in the _Border Minstrelsy_, entitled _The Wife of Usher's Well_, [vol. i. p. 214, of this collection,] but which is evidently the same narrative."[A]

[A] There is to a certain extent a resemblance between this ballad
and the German ballad _Das Schloss in Oesterreich_, found in most of
the German collections, and in Swedish and Danish.

"The editor has been induced to divide this ballad into two parts, on account of the _great superiority of what follows over what goes before, and because the latter portion is in a great measure independent of the other_, so far as sense is concerned. The first part is composed of the Peeblesshire version, mingled with that of the northern editor: the second is formed of the Peeblesshire version, mingled with the fragment called _The Wife of Usher's Well_."

The natural desire of men to hear more of characters in whom they have become strongly interested, has frequently stimulated the attempt to continue successful fictions, and such supplements are proverbially unfortunate. A ballad-singer would have powerful inducements to gratify this passion of his audience, and he could most economically effect the object by stringing two ballads together. When a tale ended tragically, the sequel must of necessity be a ghost-story, and we have already had, in _Clerk Saunders_, an instance of this combination. Mr. Chambers has furnished the best possible reasons for believing that the same process has taken place in the case of the present ballad, and that the two parts, (which occur separately,) having originally had no connection, were arbitrarily united, to suit the purposes of some unscrupulous rhapsodist.

PART FIRST.

O I will sing to you a sang,
Will grieve your heart full sair;
How the Clerk's twa sons o' Owsenford
Have to learn some unco lear.

They hadna been in fair Parish 5
A twelvemonth and a day,
Till the Clerk's twa sons fell deep in love
Wi' the Mayor's dauchters twae.

And aye as the twa clerks sat and wrote,
The ladies sewed and sang; 10
There was mair mirth in that chamber,
Than in a' fair Ferrol's land.

But word's gane to the michty Mayor,
As he sailed on the sea,
That the Clerk's twa sons made licht lemans 15
O' his fair dauchters twae.

"If they hae wranged my twa dauchters,
Janet and Marjorie,
The morn, ere I taste meat or drink,
Hie hangit they shall be." 20

And word's gane to the clerk himsell,
As he was drinking wine,
That his twa sons at fair Parish
Were bound in prison strang.

Then up and spak the Clerk's ladye, 25
And she spak tenderlie:
"O tak wi' ye a purse o' gowd,
Or even tak ye three;
And if ye canna get William,
Bring Henry hame to me." 30

O sweetly sang the nightingale,
As she sat on the wand;
But sair, sair mourned Owsenford,
As he gaed in the strand.

When he came to their prison strang, 35
He rade it round about,
And at a little shot-window,
His sons were looking out.

"O lie ye there, my sons," he said,
"For owsen or for kye? 40
Or what is it that ye lie for,
Sae sair bound as ye lie?"

"We lie not here for owsen, father;
Nor yet do we for kye;
But it's for a little o' dear-boucht love, 45
Sae sair bound as we lie.

"O borrow us, borrow us, father," they said,
"For the luve we bear to thee!"
"O never fear, my pretty sons,
Weel borrowed ye sall be." 50

Then he's gane to the michty Mayor,
And he spak courteouslie:
"Will ye grant my twa sons' lives,
Either for gold or fee?
Or will ye be sae gude a man, 55
As grant them baith to me?"

"I'll no grant ye your twa sons' lives,
Neither for gold nor fee;
Nor will I be sae gude a man,
As gie them baith to thee; 60
But before the morn at twal o'clock,
Ye'll see them hangit hie!"

Ben it came the Mayor's dauchters,
Wi' kirtle coat alone;
Their eyes did sparkle like the gold, 65
As they tripped on the stone.

"Will ye gie us our loves, father,
For gold, or yet for fee?
Or will ye take our own sweet lives,
And let our true loves be?" 70

He's taen a whip into his hand,
And lashed them wondrous sair;
"Gae to your bowers, ye vile limmers;
Ye'se never see them mair."

Then out it speaks auld Owsenford; 75
A sorry man was he:
"Gang to your bouirs, ye lilye flouirs;
For a' this maunna be."

Then out it speaks him Hynde Henry:
"Come here, Janet, to me; 80
Will ye gie me my faith and troth,
And love, as I gae thee?"

"Ye sall hae your faith and troth,
Wi' God's blessing and mine:"
And twenty times she kissed his mouth, 85
Her father looking on.

Then out it speaks him gay William:
"Come here, sweet Marjorie;
Will ye gie me my faith and troth,
And love, as I gae thee?" 90

"Yes, ye sall hae your faith and troth,
Wi' God's blessing and mine:"
And twenty times she kissed his mouth,
Her father looking on.

* * * * *

"O ye'll tak aff your twa black hats, 95
Lay them down on a stone,
That nane may ken that ye are clerks,
Till ye are putten doun."

The bonnie clerks they died that morn;
Their loves died lang ere noon; 100
And the waefu' Clerk o' Owsenford
To his lady has gane hame.

PART SECOND.

His lady sat on her castle wa',
Beholding dale and doun;
And there she saw her ain gude lord
Come walking to the toun.

"Ye're welcome, ye're welcome, my ain gude lord, 5
Ye're welcome hame to me;
But where-away are my twa sons?
Ye suld hae brought them wi' ye."

"O they are putten to a deeper lear,
And to a higher scule: 10
Your ain twa sons will no be hame
Till the hallow days o' Yule."

"O sorrow, sorrow, come mak my bed;
And, dule, come lay me doun;
For I will neither eat nor drink, 15
Nor set a fit on groun'!"

The hallow days o' Yule were come,
And the nights were lang and mirk,
When in and cam her ain twa sons,
And their hats made o' the birk. 20

It neither grew in syke nor ditch,
Nor yet in ony sheuch;
But at the gates o' Paradise
That birk grew fair eneuch.

"Blow up the fire, now, maidens mine, 25
Bring water from the well;
For a' my house shall feast this night,
Since my twa sons are well.

"O eat and drink, my merry-men a',
The better shall ye fare; 30
For my two sons they are come hame
To me for evermair."

And she has gane and made their bed,
She's made it saft and fine;
And she's happit them wi' her gay mantil, 35
Because they were her ain.

But the young cock crew in the merry Linkum,
And the wild fowl chirped for day;
And the aulder to the younger said,
"Brother, we maun away. 40

"The cock doth craw, the day doth daw,
The channerin worm doth chide;
Gin we be missed out o' our place,
A sair pain we maun bide."

"Lie still, lie still a little wee while, 45
Lie still but if we may;
Gin my mother should miss us when she wakes,
She'll gae mad ere it be day."

* * * * *

O it's they've taen up their mother's mantil,
And they've hung it on a pin: 50
"O lang may ye hing, my mother's mantil,
Ere ye hap us again."

CHILDE VYET.

First printed in a complete form in Maidment's _North Countrie Garland_, p. 24. The same editor contributed a slightly different copy to Motherwell's _Minstrelsy_, (p. 173.) An inferior version is furnished by Buchan, i. 234, and Jamieson has published a fragment on the same story, here given in the Appendix.

Lord Ingram and Childe Vyet,
Were both born in ane bower,
Had both their loves on one Lady,
The less was their honour.[L4]

Childe Vyet and Lord Ingram, 5
Were both born in one hall,
Had both their loves on one Lady
The worse did them befall.

Lord Ingram woo'd the Lady Maiserey,
From father and from mother; 10
Lord Ingram woo'd the Lady Maiserey,
From sister and from brother.

Lord Ingram wooed the Lady Maiserey,
With leave of all her kin;
And every one gave full consent, 15
But she said no, to him.

Lord Ingram wooed the Lady Maiserey,
Into her father's ha';
Childe Vyet wooed the Lady Maiserey,
Among the sheets so sma'. 20

Now it fell out upon a day,
She was dressing her head,
That ben did come her father dear,
Wearing the gold so red.

"Get up now, Lady Maiserey, 25
Put on your wedding gown,
For Lord Ingram will be here,
Your wedding must be done!"

"I'd rather be Childe Vyet's wife,
The white fish for to sell, 30
Before I were Lord Ingram's wife,
To wear the silk so well!

"I'd rather be Childe Vyet's wife,
With him to beg my bread,
Before I'd be Lord Ingram's wife, 35
To wear the gold so red.

"Where will I get a bonny boy,
Will win gold to his fee,
Will run unto Childe Vyet's ha',
With this letter from me?" 40

"O here, I am the boy," says one,
"Will win gold to my fee,
And carry away any letter,
To Childe Vyet from thee."

And when he found the bridges broke, 45
He bent his bow and swam;
And when he found the grass growing,
He hasten'd and he ran.

And when he came to Vyet's castle,
He did not knock nor call, 50
But set his bent bow to his breast,
And lightly leaped the wall;
And ere the porter open'd the gate,
The boy was in the hall.

The first line that Childe Vyet read, 55
A grieved man was he;
The next line that he looked on,
A tear blinded his e'e.

"What ails my own brother," he says,
"He'll not let my love be; 60
But I'll send to my brother's bridal;
The woman shall be free.

"Take four and twenty bucks and ewes,
And ten tun of the wine,
And bid my love be blythe and glad, 65
And I will follow syne."

There was not a groom about that castle,
But got a gown of green;
And a' was blythe, and a' was glad,
But Lady Maiserey was wi' wean.[L70] 70

There was no cook about the kitchen,
But got a gown of gray;
And a' was blythe, and a' was glad,
But Lady Maiserey was wae.

'Tween Mary Kirk and that castle, 75
Was all spread o'er with garl,[L76]
To keep the lady and her maidens,
From tramping on the marl.[L78]

From Mary Kirk to that castle,
Was spread a cloth of gold, 80
To keep the lady and her maidens,
From treading on the mould.

When mass was sung, and bells were rung,
And all men bound for bed,
Then Lord Ingram and Lady Maiserey, 85
In one bed they were laid.

When they were laid upon their bed,
It was baith soft and warm,
He laid his hand over her side,
Says he, "you are with bairn." 90

"I told you once, so did I twice,
When ye came as my wooer,
That Childe Vyet, your one brother,
One night lay in my bower.

"I told you twice, so did I thrice, 95
Ere ye came me to wed,
That Childe Vyet, your one brother,
One night lay in my bed!"

"O will you father your bairn on me,
And on no other man? 100
And I'll gie him to his dowry,
Full fifty ploughs of land."

"I will not father my bairn on you,
Nor on no wrongous man,
Tho' you'd gie him to his dowry, 105
Five thousand ploughs of land."

Then up did start him Childe Vyet,
Shed by his yellow hair,
And gave Lord Ingram to the heart,
A deep wound and a sair. 110

Then up did start him Lord Ingram,
Shed by his yellow hair,
And gave Childe Vyet to the heart,
A deep wound and a sair.

There was no pity for the two lords, 115
Where they were lying slain,
All was for Lady Maiserey:
In that bower she gaed brain!

There was no pity for the two lords,
When they were lying dead, 120
All was for Lady Maiserey:
In that bower she went mad!

"O get to me a cloak of cloth,
A staff of good hard tree;
If I have been an evil woman, 125
I shall beg till I die.

"For ae bit I'll beg for Childe Vyet,
For Lord Ingram I'll beg three,
All for the honourable marriage, that
At Mary Kirk he gave me!" 130

4. The less was their bonheur. MOTHERWELL.

70, she was neen. Motherwell.

76, gold.

78, mould. N. C. G.

LADY MAISRY.

This ballad, said to be very popular in Scotland, was taken down from recitation by Jamieson, and is extracted from his collection, vol. i. p. 73. A different copy, from Motherwell's _Minstrelsy_, p. 234, is given in the Appendix. Another, styled _Young Prince James_, may be seen in Buchan's _Ballads_, vol. i. 103. _Bonnie Susie Cleland_, Motherwell, p. 221, is still another version.

In _Lady Maisry_ we seem to have the English form of a tragic story which, starting from Denmark, has spread over almost all the north of Europe, that of _King Waldemar and his Sister_. Grundtvig's collection gives seven copies of the Danish ballad upon this subject (_Kong Valdemar og hans S[:o]ster_, No. 126), the oldest from a manuscript of the beginning of the 17th century. Five Icelandic versions are known, one Norse, one Faroish, five Swedish (four of them in Arwidsson, No. 53, _Liten Kerstin och Fru Sofia_), and several in German, as _Graf Hans von Holstein und seine Schwester Annchristine_, Erk, _Liederhort_, p. 155; _Der Grausame Bruder_, Erk, p. 153, and Hoffmann, _Schlesische Volkslieder_, No. 27; _Der Grobe Bruder_, _Wunderhorn_, ii. 272; _Der Pfalzgraf am Rhein_, _id._ i. 259, etc.; also a fragment in Wendish. The relationship of the English ballad to the rest of the cycle can perhaps be easiest shown by comparison with the simplified and corrupted German versions.

The story appears to be founded on facts which occurred during the reign and in the family of the Danish king, Waldemar the First, sometime between 1157 and 1167. Waldemar is described as being, with all his greatness, of a relentless and cruel disposition (_in ira pertinax_; _in suos tantum plus justo crudelior_). Tradition, however, has imputed to him a brutal ferocity beyond belief. In the ballad before us, Lady Maisry suffers for her weakness by being burned at the stake, but in the Danish, Swedish, and German ballads, the king's sister is beaten to death with leathern whips, by her brother's own hand.

"Er schlug sie so sehre, er schlug sie so lang,
Bis Lung und Leber aus dem Leib ihr sprang!"

The Icelandic and Faroe ballads have nothing of this horrible ferocity, but contain a story which is much nearer to probability, if not to historical truth. While King Waldemar is absent on an expedition against the Wends, his sister Krist['i]n is drawn into a _liaison_ with her second-cousin, the result of which is the birth of two children. Sof['i]a, the Queen, maliciously makes the state of things known to the king the moment he returns (which is on the very day of Krist['i]n's lying in, according to the Danish ballad), but he will not believe the story,--all the more because the accused parties are within prohibited degrees of consanguinity. Krist['i]n is summoned to come instantly to her brother, and obeys the message, though she is weak with childbirth, and knows that the journey will cost her her life. She goes to the court on horseback (in the Danish ballads falling from the saddle once or twice on the way), and on her arrival is put to various tests to ascertain her condition, concluding with a long dance with the king, to which, having held out for a considerable time, she at last succumbs, and falls dead in her brother's arms.

The incidents of the journey on horseback, and the cruel probation by the dance, are found in the ballad which follows the present (_Fair Janet_), and these coincidences Grundtvig considers sufficient to establish its derivation from the Danish. The _general_ similarity of _Lady Maisry_ to _King Waldemar and his Sister_ is, however, much more striking. For our part, we are inclined to believe that _both_ the English ballads had this origin, but the difference in their actual form is so great, that, notwithstanding this conviction, we have not felt warranted in putting them together.

The young lords o' the north country
Have all a-wooing gane,
To win the love of lady Maisry,
But o' them she wou'd hae nane.

O thae hae sought her, lady Maisry, 5
Wi' broaches, and wi' rings;
And they hae courted her, lady Maisry,
Wi' a' kin kind of things.

And they hae sought her, lady Maisry,
Frae father and frae mither; 10
And they hae sought her, lady Maisry,
Frae sister and frae brither.

And they hae follow'd her, lady Maisry,
Thro' chamber, and through ha';
But a' that they could say to her, 15
Her answer still was "Na."

"O haud your tongues, young men," she said,
"And think nae mair on me;
For I've gi'en my love to an English lord,
Sae think nae mair on me." 20

Her father's kitchey-boy heard that,
(An ill death mot he die!)
And he is in to her brother,
As fast as gang cou'd he.

"O is my father and my mother weel, 25
But and my brothers three?
Gin my sister lady Maisry be weel,
There's naething can ail me."

"Your father and your mother is weel,
But and your brothers three; 30
Your sister, lady Maisry's, weel,
Sae big wi' bairn is she."

"A malison light on the tongue,
Sic tidings tells to me!--
But gin it be a lie you tell, 35
You shall be hanged hie."

He's doen him to his sister's bower,
Wi' mickle dool and care;
And there he saw her, lady Maisry,
Kembing her yellow hair. 40

"O wha is aucht that bairn," he says,[L41]
"That ye sae big are wi'?
And gin ye winna own the truth,
This moment ye sall die."

She's turned her richt and round about, 45
And the kembe fell frae her han';
A trembling seized her fair bodie,
And her rosy cheek grew wan.

"O pardon me, my brother dear,
And the truth I'll tell to thee; 50
My bairn it is to Lord William,
And he is betrothed to me."

"O cou'dna ye gotten dukes, or lords,
Intill your ain countrie,
That ye drew up wi' an English dog, 55
To bring this shame on me?

"But ye maun gi'e up your English lord,
Whan your young babe is born;
For, gin ye keep by him an hour langer,
Your life shall be forlorn." 60

"I will gi'e up this English lord,
Till my young babe be born;
But the never a day nor hour langer,
Though my life should be forlorn."

"O whare is a' my merry young men, 65
Wham I gi'e meat and fee,
To pu' the bracken and the thorn,
To burn this vile whore wi'?"

"O whare will I get a bonny boy,
To help me in my need, 70
To rin wi' haste to Lord William,
And bid him come wi' speed?"

O out it spak a bonny boy,
Stood by her brother's side;
"It's I wad rin your errand, lady, 75
O'er a' the warld wide.

"Aft ha'e I run your errands, lady,
When blawin baith wind and weet;
But now I'll rin your errand, lady,
With saut tears on my cheek." 80

O whan he came to broken briggs,
He bent his bow and swam;
And whan he came to the green grass growin',
He slack'd his shoon and ran.

And when he came to Lord William's yeats, 85
He badena to chap or ca';
But set his bent bow to his breast,
And lightly lap the wa';
And, or the porter was at the yeat,
The boy was in the ha'. 90

"O is my biggins broken, boy?
Or is my towers won?
Or is my lady lighter yet,
O' a dear daughter or son?"

"Your biggin isna broken, sir, 95
Nor is your towers won;
But the fairest lady in a' the land
This day for you maun burn."

"O saddle to me the black, the black,
Or saddle to me the brown; 100
Or saddle to me the swiftest steed
That ever rade frae a town."

Or he was near a mile awa',
She heard his weir-horse sneeze;
"Mend up the fire, my fause brother, 105
It's nae come to my knees."

O whan he lighted at the yeat,
She heard his bridle ring:
"Mend up the fire, my fause brother;
It's far yet frae my chin. 110

"Mend up the fire to me, brother,
Mend up the fire to me;
For I see him comin' hard and fast,
Will soon men't up for thee.

"O gin my hands had been loose, Willy, 115
Sae hard as they are boun',
I wadd hae turn'd me frae the gleed,
And casten out your young son."

"O I'll gar burn for you, Maisry,
Your father and your mother; 120
And I'll gar burn for you, Maisry,
Your sister and your brother;

"And I'll gar burn for you, Maisry,
The chief o' a' your kin;
And the last bonfire that I come to, 125
Mysell I will cast in."

v. 41. See preface to _Clerk Saunders_, p. 319.

FAIR JANET.

From Sharpe's _Ballad Book_, p. 1.

"This ballad, the subject of which appears to have been very popular, is printed as it was sung by an old woman in Perthshire. The air is extremely beautiful."

Herd gave an imperfect version of this ballad under the title of _Willie and Annet_, in his _Scottish Songs_, i. 219; repeated after him in Ritson's _Scottish Songs_, and in Johnson's _Museum_. Finlay's copy, improved, but made up of fragments, follows the present, and in the Appendix is _Sweet Willie and Fair Maisry_, from Buchan's collection. We have followed Motherwell by inserting (in brackets) three stanzas from _Willie and Annet_ and _Sweet Willie_, which contribute slightly to complete Sharpe's copy. None of these ballads is satisfactory, though Sharpe's is the best. Touching the relation of _Fair Janet_ to the Danish ballad of _King Waldemar and his Sister_, the reader will please look at the preface to the preceding ballad.

"Ye maun gang to your father, Janet,
Ye maun gang to him soon;
Ye maun gang to your father, Janet,
In case that his days are dune!"

Janet's awa' to her father, 5
As fast as she could hie;
"O what's your will wi' me, father?
O what's your will wi' me?"

"My will wi' you, Fair Janet," he said,
"It is both bed and board; 10
Some say that ye lo'e Sweet Willie,
But ye maun wed a French lord."

"A French lord maun I wed, father?
A French lord maun I wed?
Then, by my sooth," quo' Fair Janet, 15
"He's ne'er enter my bed."

Janet's awa' to her chamber,
As fast as she could go;
Wha's the first ane that tapped there,
But Sweet Willie her jo! 20

"O we maun part this love, Willie,
That has been lang between;
There's a French lord coming o'er the sea
To wed me wi' a ring;
There 's a French lord coming o'er the sea, 25
To wed and tak me hame."

"If we maun part this love, Janet,
It causeth mickle woe;
If we maun part this love, Janet,
It makes me into mourning go." 30

"But ye maun gang to your three sisters,
Meg, Marion, and Jean;
Tell them to come to Fair Janet,
In case that her days are dune."

Willie's awa' to his three sisters, 35
Meg, Marion, and Jean;
"O haste, and gang to Fair Janet,
I fear that her days are dune."

Some drew to them their silken hose,
Some drew to them their shoon, 40
Some drew to them their silk manteils,
Their coverings to put on;
And they're awa' to Fair Janet,
By the hie light o' the moon.

* * * * * * *

"O I have born this babe, Willie, 45
Wi' mickle toil and pain;
Take hame, take hame, your babe, Willie,
For nurse I dare be nane."

He's tane his young son in his arms,
And kist him cheek and chin,-- 50
And he's awa' to his mother's bower,
By the hie light o' the moon.

"O open, open, mother," he says,
"O open, and let me in;
The rain rains on my yellow hair, 55
And the dew drops o'er my chin,--
And I hae my young son in my arms,
I fear that his days are dune."

With her fingers lang and sma'
She lifted up the pin; 60
And with her arms lang and sma'
Received the baby in.

"Gae back, gae back now, Sweet Willie,
And comfort your fair lady;
For where ye had but ae nourice, 65
Your young son shall hae three."

Willie he was scarce awa',
And the lady put to bed,
When in and came her father dear:
"Make haste, and busk the bride." 70

"There's a sair pain in my head, father,
There's a sair pain in my side;
And ill, O ill, am I, father,
This day for to be a bride."

"O ye maun busk this bonny bride, 75
And put a gay mantle on;
For she shall wed this auld French lord,
Gin she should die the morn."

Some put on the gay green robes,
And some put on the brown; 80
But Janet put on the scarlet robes,
To shine foremost through the town.

And some they mounted the black steed,
And some mounted the brown;
But Janet mounted the milk-white steed, 85
To ride foremost through the town.

"O wha will guide your horse, Janet?
O wha will guide him best?"
"O wha but Willie, my true love,
He kens I lo'e him best!" 90

And when they cam to Marie's kirk,
To tye the haly ban,
Fair Janet's cheek looked pale and wan,
And her colour gaed and cam.

When dinner it was past and done, 95
And dancing to begin,
"O we'll go take the bride's maidens,
And we'll go fill the ring."

O ben than cam the auld French lord,
Saying, "Bride, will ye dance with me?"
"Awa', awa', ye auld French Lord, 100
Your face I downa see."

O ben than cam now Sweet Willie,
He cam with ane advance:
"O I'll go tak the bride's maidens, 105
And we'll go tak a dance."

"I've seen ither days wi' you, Willie,
And so has mony mae;
Ye would hae danced wi' me mysel',
Let a' my maidens gae." 110

O ben than cam now Sweet Willie,
Saying, "Bride, will ye dance wi' me?"
"Aye, by my sooth, and that I will,
Gin my back should break in three."

[And she's ta'en Willie by the hand, 115
The tear blinded her e'e;
"O I wad dance wi' my true love,
Tho' bursts my heart in three!"]

She hadna turned her throw the dance,
Throw the dance but thrice, 120
Whan she fell doun at Willie's feet,
And up did never rise!

[She's ta'en her bracelet frae her arm,
Her garter frae her knee:
"Gie that, gie that, to my young son; 125
He'll ne'er his mother see."]

Willie's ta'en the key of his coffer,
And gi'en it to his man;
"Gae hame, and tell my mother dear,
My horse he has me slain; 130
Bid her be kind to my young son,
For father he has nane."

["Gar deal, gar deal the bread," he cried,
"Gar deal, gar deal the wine;
This day has seen my true love's death, 135
This night shall witness mine."]

The tane was buried in Marie's kirk,
And the tither in Marie's quire:
Out of the tane there grew a birk,
And the tither a bonny brier. 140

SWEET WILLIE.

"This ballad has had the misfortune, in common with many others, of being much mutilated by reciters. I have endeavoured, by the assistance of some fragments, to make it as complete as possible; and have even taken the liberty of altering the arrangement of some of the stanzas of a lately-procured copy, that they might the better cohere with those already printed." FINLAY'S _Scottish Ballads_, ii. 61.

"Will you marry the southland lord,
A queen o' fair England to be?
Or will you mourn for sweet Willie,
The morn upon yon lea?"

"I will marry the southland lord, 5
Father, sen it is your will;
But I'd rather it were my burial day,
For my grave I'm going till.

"O go, O go now my bower wife,
O go now hastilie, 10
O go now to sweet Willie's bower,
And bid him cum speak to me.--

"Now, Willie, gif ye love me weel,
As sae it seems to me,
Gar build, gar build a bonny ship, 15
Gar build it speedilie!

"And we will sail the sea sae green
Unto some far countrie;
Or we'll sail to some bonny isle,
Stands lanely midst the sea." 20

But lang or e'er the ship was built,
Or deck'd or rigged out,
Cam sic a pain in Annet's back,
That down she cou'dna lout.

"Now, Willie, gin ye love me weel, 25
As sae it seems to me,
O haste, haste, bring me to my bower,
And my bower maidens three."

He's ta'en her in his arms twa,
And kiss'd her cheek and chin, 30
He's brocht her to her ain sweet bower,
But nae bower maid was in.

"Now leave my bower, Willie," she said,
"Now leave me to my lane;
Was never man in a lady's bower 35
When she was travailing."

He's stepped three steps down the stair,
Upon the marble stane,
Sae loud's he heard his young son greet,
But and his lady mane. 40

"Now come, now come, Willie," she said,
"Tak your young son frae me,
And hie him to your mother's bower,
With speed and privacie."

And he is to his mother's bower, 45
As fast as he could rin;
"Open, open, my mother dear,
Open, and let me in;

"For the rain rains on my yellow hair,
The dew stands on my chin, 50
And I have something in my lap,
And I wad fain be in."

"O go, O go now, sweet Willie,
And make your lady blithe,
For wherever you had ae nourice, 55
Your young son shall hae five."--

Out spak Annet's mother dear,
An' she spak a word o' pride;
Says, "Whare is a' our bride's maidens,
They're no busking the bride?" 60

"O haud your tongue, my mother dear,
Your speaking let it be,
For I'm sae fair and full o' flesh,
Little busking will serve me."

Out an' spak the bride's maidens, 65
They spak a word o' pride;
Says, "Whare is a' the fine cleiding?
Its we maun busk the bride."

"Deal hooly wi' my head, maidens,
Deal hooly wi' my hair, 70
For it was washen late yestreen,
And it is wonder sair.

"My maidens, easy wi' my back,
And easy wi' my side;
O set my saddle saft, Willie, 75
I am a tender bride."

O up then spak the southland lord,
And blinkit wi' his ee;
"I trow this lady's born a bairn,"
Then laucht loud lauchters three. 80

"Ye hae gi'en me the gowk, Annet,
But I'll gie you the scorn;
For there's no a bell in a' the town
Shall ring for you the morn."

Out and spak then sweet Willie, 85
"Sae loud's I hear you lie,
There's no a bell in a' the town
But shall ring for Annet and me."

And Willie swore a great great oath,
And he swore by the thorn, 90
That she was as free o' a child that night,
As the night that she was born.

O up an' spak the brisk bridegroom,[L93]
And he spak up wi' pride,
"Gin I should lay my gloves in pawn, 95
I will dance wi' the bride."

"Now haud your tongue, my lord," she said,[L97]
"Wi' dancing let me be,
I am sae thin in flesh and blude,
Sma' dancing will serve me." 100

But she's ta'en Willie by the hand,
The tear blinded her ee;
"But I wad dance wi' my true love,
But bursts my heart in three."

She's ta'en her bracelet frae her arm, 105
Her garter frae her knee,
"Gie that, gie that, to my young son;
He'll ne'er his mother see."

93. _Sic_ Herd. Finlay, then sweet Willie.

97. _Sic_ Herd. Finlay, Willie, she said.

FAIR ANNIE OF LOCHROYAN.

Of this beautiful piece a complete copy was first published by Scott, another afterwards by Jamieson. Both are here given, the latter, as in some respects preferable, having the precedence. The ballad is found almost entire in Herd's _Scottish Songs_, i. 206, a short fragment in Johnson's _Museum_, p. 5, and a more considerable one, called _Love Gregory_, in Buchan's collection, ii. 199. This last has been unnecessarily repeated in a very indifferent publication of the Percy Society, vol. xvii. Dr. Wolcot, Burns, and Jamieson have written songs on the story of Fair Annie, and Cunningham has modernized Sir Walter Scott's version, after his fashion, in the _Songs of Scotland_, i. 298.

Of his text, Jamieson remarks, "it is given _verbatim_ from the large MS. collection, transmitted from Aberdeen, by my zealous and industrious friend, Professor Robert Scott of that university. I have every reason to believe, that no liberty whatever has been taken with the text, which is certainly more uniform than any copy heretofore published. It was first written down many years ago, with no view towards being committed to the press; and is now given from the copy then taken, with the addition only of stanzas twenty-two and twenty-three, which the editor has inserted from memory." _Popular Ballads_, i. 36.

"Lochryan is a beautiful, though somewhat wild and secluded bay, which projects from the Irish Channel into Wigtonshire, having the little seaport of Stranraer situated at its bottom. Along its coast, which is in some places high and rocky, there are many ruins of such castles as that described in the ballad." CHAMBERS.

"O wha will shoe my fair foot,
And wha will glove my han'?
And wha will lace my middle jimp
Wi' a new-made London ban'?

"Or wha will kemb my yellow hair 5
Wi' a new-made silver kemb?
Or wha'll be father to my young bairn,
Till love Gregor come hame?"

"Your father'll shoe your fair foot,
Your mother glove your han'; 10
Your sister lace your middle jimp
Wi' a new-made London ban';

"Your brethren will kemb your yellow hair
Wi' a new-made silver kemb;
And the king o' Heaven will father your bairn, 15
Till love Gregor come hame."

"O gin I had a bonny ship,
And men to sail wi' me,
It's I wad gang to my true love,
Sin he winna come to me!" 20

Her father's gien her a bonny ship,
And sent her to the stran';
She's taen her young son in her arms,
And turn'd her back to the lan'.

She hadna been o' the sea sailin' 25
About a month or more,
Till landed has she her bonny ship
Near her true-love's door.

The nicht was dark, and the wind blew cald,
And her love was fast asleep, 30
And the bairn that was in her twa arms
Fu' sair began to greet.

Lang stood she at her true love's door,
And lang tirl'd at the pin;
At length up gat his fause mother, 35
Says, "Wha's that wad be in?"

"O it is Annie of Lochroyan,
Your love, come o'er the sea,
But and your young son in her arms;
So open the door to me." 40

"Awa, awa, ye ill woman,
You're nae come here for gude;
You're but a witch, or a vile warlock,
Or mermaid o' the flude."

"I'm nae a witch or vile warlock, 45
Or mermaiden," said she;--
"I'm but your Annie of Lochroyan;--
O open the door to me!"

"O gin ye be Annie of Lochroyan,
As I trust not ye be, 50
What taiken can ye gie that e'er
I kept your companie?"

"O dinna ye mind, love Gregor," she says,
"Whan we sat at the wine,
How we changed the napkins frae our necks? 55
It's nae sae lang sinsyne.

"And yours was gude, and gude enough,
But nae sae gude as mine;
For yours was o' the cambrick clear,
But mine o' the silk sae fine. 60

"And dinna ye mind, love Gregor," she says,
"As we twa sat at dine,
How we chang'd the rings frae our fingers,
And I can shew thee thine:

"And yours was gude, and gude enough, 65
Yet nae sae gude as mine;
For yours was o' the gude red gold,
But mine o' the diamonds fine.

"Sae open the door, now, love Gregor,
And open it wi' speed; 70
Or your young son, that is in my arms,
For cald will soon be dead."

"Awa, awa, ye ill woman,
Gae frae my door for shame;
For I hae gotten anither fair love, 75
Sae ye may hie you hame."

"O hae ye gotten anither fair love,
For a' the oaths ye sware?
Then fare ye weel, now, fause Gregor;
For me ye's never see mair!" 80

O hooly, hooly gaed she back,
As the day began to peep;
She set her foot on good ship board,
And sair, sair did she weep.

"Tak down, tak down the mast o' goud; 85
Set up the mast o' tree;
Ill sets it a forsaken lady
To sail sae gallantlie.

"Tak down, tak down the sails o' silk;
Set up the sails o' skin; 90
Ill sets the outside to be gay,
Whan there's sic grief within!"

Love Gregor started frae his sleep,
And to his mother did say,
"I dreamt a dream this night, mither, 95
That maks my heart richt wae;

"I dreamt that Annie of Lochroyan,
The flower o' a' her kin,
Was standin' mournin' at my door,
But nane wad lat her in." 100

"O there was a woman stood at the door,
Wi' a bairn intill her arms;
But I wadna let her within the bower,
For fear she had done you harm."

O quickly, quickly raise he up, 105
And fast ran to the strand;
And there he saw her, fair Annie,
Was sailing frae the land.

And "heigh, Annie!" and "how, Annie!
O, Annie, winna ye bide?" 110
But ay the louder that he cried "Annie,"
The higher rair'd the tide.

And "heigh, Annie!" and "how, Annie!
O, Annie, speak to me!"
But ay the louder that he cried "Annie," 115
The louder rair'd the sea.

The wind grew loud, and the sea grew rough,
And the ship was rent in twain;
And soon he saw her, fair Annie,
Come floating o'er the main. 120

He saw his young son in her arms,
Baith toss'd aboon the tide;
He wrang his hands, and fast he ran,
And plunged in the sea sae wide.

He catch'd her by the yellow hair, 125
And drew her to the strand;
But cald and stiff was every limb,
Before he reach'd the land.

O first he kist her cherry cheek,
And syne he kist her chin; 130
And sair he kist her ruby lips,
But there was nae breath within.

O he has mourn'd o'er fair Annie,
Till the sun was ganging down;
Syne wi' a sich his heart it brast, 135
And his saul to heaven has flown.

THE LASS OF LOCHROYAN.

_Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_, iii. 199.

"This edition of the ballad is composed of verses selected from three MS. copies, and two obtained from recitation. Two of the copies are in Herd's MS.; the third in that of Mrs. Brown of Falkland."

Lord Gregory is represented in Scott's version, "as confined by fairy charms in an enchanted castle situated in the sea." But Jamieson assures us that when a boy he had frequently heard this ballad chanted in Morayshire, and no mention was ever made of enchantment, or "fairy charms." "Indeed," he very justly adds, "the two stanzas on that subject [v. 41-52,] are in a style of composition very peculiar, and different from the rest of the piece, and strongly remind us of the interpolations in the ballad of _Gil Morris_."

"O wha will shoe my bonny foot?
And wha will glove my hand?
And wha will lace my middle jimp
Wi' a lang, lang linen band?

"O wha will kame my yellow hair, 5
With a new-made silver kame?
And wha will father my young son,
Till Lord Gregory come hame?"--

"Thy father will shoe thy bonny foot,
Thy mother will glove thy hand, 10
Thy sister will lace thy middle jimp,
Till Lord Gregory come to land.

"Thy brother will kame thy yellow hair
With a new-made silver kame,
And God will be thy bairn's father 15
Till Lord Gregory come hame."--

"But I will get a bonny boat,
And I will sail the sea;
And I will gang to Lord Gregory,
Since he canna come hame to me." 20

Syne she's gar'd build a bonny boat,
To sail the salt, salt sea;
The sails were o' the light green silk,
The tows o' taffety.

She hadna sailed but twenty leagues, 25
But twenty leagues and three,
When she met wi' a rank robber,
And a' his company.

"Now whether are ye the queen hersell,
(For so ye weel might be,) 30
Or are ye the Lass of Lochroyan,
Seekin' Lord Gregory?"--

"O I am neither the queen," she said,
"Nor sic I seem to be;
But I am the Lass of Lochroyan, 35
Seekin' Lord Gregory."--

"O see na thou yon bonny bower,
It's a' cover'd o'er wi' tin?
When thou hast sail'd it round about,
Lord Gregory is within." 40

And when she saw the stately tower
Shining sae clear and bright,
Whilk stood aboon the jawing wave,
Built on a rock of height;

Says--"Row the boat, my mariners, 45
And bring me to the land!
For yonder I see my love's castle
Close by the salt-sea strand."

She sail'd it round, and sail'd it round,
And loud, loud cried she-- 50
"Now break, now break, ye fairy charms,
And set my true love free!"

She's ta'en her young son in her arms,
And to the door she's gane;
And long she knock'd, and sair she ca'd, 55
But answer got she nane.

"O open the door, Lord Gregory!
O open and let me in!
For the wind blaws through my yellow hair,
And the rain draps o'er my chin."-- 60

"Awa, awa, ye ill woman!
Ye're no come here for good!
Ye're but some witch or wil warlock,
Or mermaid o' the flood."--

"I am neither witch, nor wil warlock, 65
Nor mermaid o' the sea;
But I am Annie of Lochroyan;
O open the door to me!"--

"Gin thou be Annie of Lochroyan,
(As I trow thou binna she,) 70
Now tell me some o' the love tokens
That past between thee and me."--

"O dinna ye mind, Lord Gregory,
As we sat at the wine,
We changed the rings frae our fingers? 75
And I can show thee thine.

"O yours was gude, and gude enough,
But aye the best was mine;
For yours was o' the gude red gowd,
But mine o' the diamond fine. 80

"And has na thou mind, Lord Gregory,
As we sat on the hill,
Thou twin'd me o' my maidenheid
Right sair against my will?

"Now open the door, Lord Gregory! 85
Open the door, I pray!
For thy young son is in my arms,
And will be dead ere day."--

"If thou be the lass of Lochroyan,
(As I kenna thou be,) 90
Tell me some mair o' the love tokens
Past between me and thee."

Fair Annie turn'd her round about--
"Weel! since that it be sae,
May never a woman that has borne a son, 95
Hae a heart sae fou o' wae!

"Take down, take down, that mast o' gowd!
Set up a mast o' tree!
It disna become a forsaken lady
To sail sae royallie." 100

When the cock had crawn, and the day did dawn,
And the sun began to peep,
Then up and raise him Lord Gregory,
And sair, sair did he weep.

"Oh I hae dream'd a dream, mother, 105
I wish it may prove true!
That the bonny Lass of Lochroyan
Was at the yate e'en now.

"O I hae dream'd a dream, mother,
The thought o't gars me greet! 110
That fair Annie o' Lochroyan
Lay cauld dead at my feet."--

"Gin it be for Annie of Lochroyan
That ye make a' this din,
She stood a' last night at your door, 115
But I true she wan na in."--

"O wae betide ye, ill woman!
An ill deid may ye die!
That wadna open the door to her,
Nor yet wad waken me." 120

O he's gane down to yon shore side
As fast as he could fare;
He saw fair Annie in the boat,
But the wind it toss'd her sair.

"And hey, Annie, and how, Annie! 125
O Annie, winna ye bide!"
But aye the mair he cried Annie,
The braider grew the tide.

"And hey, Annie, and how, Annie!
Dear Annie, speak to me!" 130
But aye the louder he cried Annie,
The louder roar'd the sea.

The wind blew loud, the sea grew rough,
And dash'd the boat on shore;
Fair Annie floated through the faem, 135
But the babie rose no more.

Lord Gregory tore his yellow hair,
And made a heavy moan;
Fair Annie's corpse lay at his feet,
Her bonny young son was gone. 140

O cherry, cherry was her cheek,
And gowden was her hair;
But clay-cold were her rosy lips--
Nae spark o' life was there.

And first he kiss'd her cherry cheek, 145
And syne he kiss'd her chin,
And syne he kiss'd her rosy lips--
There was nae breath within.

"O wae betide my cruel mother!
An ill death may she die! 150
She turn'd my true love frae my door,
Wha came sae far to me.

"O wae betide my cruel mother!
An ill death may she die!
She turn'd fair Annie frae my door, 155
Wha died for love o' me."

THE DOUGLAS TRAGEDY.

_Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_, iii. 3.

This ballad, of which more than thirty versions have been published in the Northern languages, is preserved in English in several forms, all of them more or less unsatisfactory. Of these the present copy comes nearest to the pure original, as it is found in Danish. The next best is _The Brave Earl Brand and The King of England's Daughter_, recently printed for the first time in Bell's _Ballads of the Peasantry_, and given at the end of this volume. _Erlinton_ (vol. iii. 220) is much mutilated, and has a perverted conclusion, but retains a faint trace of one characteristic trait of the ancient ballad, which really constitutes the turning point of the story, but which all the others lack. (See _Erlinton_.) A fragment exists in the Percy MS., of which we can only say that if it much resembled Percy's _Child of Elle_ (which it cannot), it might without loss be left undisturbed forever. In the only remaining copy Robin Hood appears as the hero. (See vol. v. p. 334.) It is of slight value, but considerably less insipid than the _Child of Elle_. Motherwell (_Minstrelsy_, p. 180) has given a few variations to Scott's ballad, but they are of no importance.--Of the corresponding Danish ballad, _Ribolt og Guldborg_, Grundtvig has collected more than twenty versions, some of them ancient, many obtained from recitation, and eight of the kindred _Hildebrand og Hilde_. There have also been printed of the latter, three versions in Swedish, and of the former, three in Icelandic, two in Norse, and seven in Swedish. (_Danmarks Gamle Folkeviser_, ii. 308-403, 674-81.) Jamieson has translated an inferior copy of the Danish ballad in _Illustrations of North. Antiq._, p. 317.

"The ballad of _The Douglas Tragedy_," says Scott, "is one of the few (?) to which popular tradition has ascribed complete locality.

"The farm of Blackhouse, in Selkirkshire, is said to have been the scene of this melancholy event. There are the remains of a very ancient tower, adjacent to the farm-house, in a wild and solitary glen, upon a torrent named Douglas burn, which joins the Yarrow, after passing a craggy rock, called the Douglas craig.... From this ancient tower Lady Margaret is said to have been carried by her lover. Seven large stones, erected upon the neighboring heights of Blackhouse, are shown, as marking the spot where the seven brethren were slain; and the Douglas burn is averred to have been the stream at which the lovers stopped to drink: so minute is tradition in ascertaining the scene of a tragical tale, which, considering the rude state of former times, had probably foundation in some real event."

Were it not for Scott's concluding remark, and the obstinate credulity of most of the English and Scotch editors, we should hardly think it necessary to say that the locality of some of the incidents in _Ribolt and Guldborg_, is equally well ascertained (Grundtvig, 342, 343). "Popular tales and anecdotes of every kind," as Jamieson well remarks, "soon obtain locality wherever they are told; and the intelligent and attentive traveller will not be surprised to find the same story which he had learnt when a child, with every appropriate circumstance of names, time, and place, in a Glen of Morven, Lochaber, or Rannoch, equally domesticated among the mountains of Norway, Caucasus, or Thibet." _Ill. North. Ant._ p. 317.

"Rise up, rise up, now, Lord Douglas," she says,
"And put on your armour so bright;
Let it never be said that a daughter of thine
Was married to a lord under night.

"Rise up, rise up, my seven bold sons, 5
And put on your armour so bright,
And take better care of your youngest sister,
For your eldest's awa' the last night."--

He's mounted her on a milk-white steed,
And himself on a dapple grey, 10
With a bugelet horn hung down by his side,
And lightly they rode away.

Lord William lookit o'er his left shoulder,
To see what he could see,
And there he spy'd her seven brethren bold, 15
Come riding o'er the lee.

"Light down, light down, Lady Marg'ret," he said,
"And hold my steed in your hand,
Until that against your seven brethren bold,
And your father, I make a stand."-- 20

She held his steed in her milk-white hand,
And never shed one tear,
Until that she saw her seven brethren fa',
And her father hard fighting, who loved her so dear.