Chapter VI: Book II: Glasgerion (3)

"O hold your hand, Lord William!" she said, 25
"For your strokes they are wondrous sair;
True lovers I can get many a ane,
But a father I can never get mair."--

O she's ta'en out her handkerchief,
It was o' the holland sae fine, 30
And aye she dighted her father's bloody wounds,
That were redder than the wine.

"O chuse, O chuse, Lady Marg'ret," he said,
"O whether will ye gang or bide?"--
"I'll gang, I'll gang, Lord William," she said, 35
"For you have left me no other guide."--

He's lifted her on a milk-white steed,
And himself on a dapple grey,
With a bugelet horn hung down by his side,
And slowly they baith rade away. 40

O they rade on, and on they rade,
And a' by the light of the moon,
Until they came to yon wan water,
And there they lighted down.

They lighted down to tak a drink 45
Of the spring that ran sae clear;
And down the stream ran his gude heart's blood,
And sair she 'gan to fear.

"Hold up, hold up, Lord William," she says,
"For I fear that you are slain!"-- 50
"'Tis naething but the shadow of my scarlet cloak,
That shines in the water sae plain."--

O they rade on, and on they rade,
And a' by the light of the moon,
Until they cam to his mother's ha' door, 55
And there they lighted down.

"Get up, get up, lady mother," he says,
"Get up, and let me in!--
Get up, get up, lady mother," he says,
"For this night my fair lady I've win. 60

"O mak my bed, lady mother," he says,
"O mak it braid and deep!
And lay Lady Marg'ret close at my back,
And the sounder I will sleep."--

Lord William was dead lang ere midnight, 65
Lady Marg'ret lang ere day--
And all true lovers that go thegither,
May they have mair luck than they!

Lord William was buried in St. Marie's kirk,[L69]
Lady Marg'ret in Marie's quire; 70
Out o' the lady's grave grew a bonny red rose,
And out o' the knight's a brier.

And they twa met, and they twa plat,
And fain they wad be near;
And a' the warld might ken right weel, 75
They were twa lovers dear.

But bye and rade the Black Douglas,
And wow but he was rough!
For he pull'd up the bonny brier,
And flang't in St. Marie's Loch. 80

69-80. This miracle is frequently witnessed over the graves of faithful lovers.--King Mark, according to the German romance, planted a rose on Tristan's grave, and a vine on that of Isold. The roots struck down into the very hearts of the dead lovers, and the stems twined lovingly together. The French account is somewhat different. An eglantine sprung from the tomb of Tristan, and twisted itself round the monument of Isold. It was cut down three times, but grew up every morning fresher than before, so that it was allowed to stand. Other examples are, in this volume, _Fair Janet_, _Lord Thomas and Fair Annet_; in the third volume, _Prince Robert_, &c. The same phenomenon is exhibited in the Swedish ballads of _Hertig Fr[:o]jdenborg och Fr[:o]ken Adelin_, _Lilla Rosa_, _Hilla Lilla_, _Hertig Nils_, (_Svenska Folk-Visor_, i. 95, 116, Arwidsson, ii. 8, 21, 24,) in the Danish ballad of _Herr Sallemand_, (_Danske Viser_, iii. 348,) in the Breton ballad of _Lord Nann and the Korrigan_, translated in Keightley's _Fairy Mythology_, p. 433, in a Servian tale cited by Talvi, _Versuch_, &c., p. 139, and in the Afghan poem of _Audam and Doorkhaunee_, described by Elphinstone, _Account of the Kingdom of Caubul_, i. 295,--which last reference we owe to Talvi.--In the case of the Danish ballad it is certain, and in some of the other cases probable, that the idea was derived from the romance of _Tristan_.

LORD THOMAS AND FAIR ELLINOR.

The four pieces which follow have all the same subject. _Lord Thomas and Fair Ellinor_, is given from the _Collection of Old Ballads_, 1723, vol. i. p. 249, where it is entitled, _A Tragical Ballad on the unfortunate Love of Lord Thomas and Fair Ellinor, together with the Downfal of the Brown Girl_. The text differs but slightly from that of Percy, (iii. 121,) and Ritson, _Ancient Songs_, ii. 89.

Lord Thomas he was a bold forrester,
And a chaser of the king's deer;
Fair Ellinor was a fine woman,
And Lord Thomas he loved her dear.

"Come riddle my riddle, dear mother," he said, 5
"And riddle us both as one;
Whether I shall marry with fair Ellinor,
And let the brown girl alone?"

"The brown girl she has got houses and land,
And fair Ellinor she has got none; 10
Therefore I charge you on my blessing,
Bring me the brown girl home."

As it befell on a high holiday,
As many more did beside,
Lord Thomas he went to fair Ellinor, 15
That should have been his bride.

But when he came to fair Ellinors bower,
He knocked there at the ring;
But who was so ready as fair Ellinor,
For to let Lord Thomas in. 20

"What news, what news, Lord Thomas?" she said,
"What news hast thou brought unto me?"
"I am come to bid thee to my wedding,
And that is bad news for thee."

"O God forbid, Lord Thomas," she said, 25
"That such a thing should be done;
I thought to have been thy bride my own self,
And you to have been the bridegrom."

"Come riddle my riddle, dear mother," she said,
"And riddle it all in one; 30
Whether I shall go to Lord Thomas's wedding,
Or whether I shall tarry at home?"

"There are many that are your friends, daughter,
And many that are your foe;
Therefore I charge you on my blessing, 35
To Lord Thomas's wedding don't go."

"There's many that are my friends, mother;
And if a thousand more were my foe,
Betide my life, betide my death,
To Lord Thomas's wedding I'll go." 40

She cloathed herself in gallant attire,
And her merry men all in green;
And as they rid through every town,
They took her to be some queen.

But when she came to Lord Thomas's gate,
She knocked there at the ring; 45
But who was so ready as Lord Thomas,
To let fair Ellinor in.

"Is this your bride?" fair Ellinor said;
"Methinks she looks wonderful brown; 50
Thou might'st have had as fair a woman,
As ever trod on the ground."

"Despise her not, fair Ellin," he said,
"Despise her not unto me;
For better I love thy little finger, 55
Than all her whole body."

This brown bride had a little penknife,
That was both long and sharp,
And betwixt the short ribs and the long,
Prick'd fair Ellinor to the heart. 60

"O Christ now save thee," Lord Thomas he said,
"Methinks thou look'st wondrous wan;
Thou us'd to look with as fresh a colour,
As ever the sun shin'd on."

"O art thou blind, Lord Thomas?" she said, 65
"Or canst thou not very well see?
O dost thou not see my own heart's blood
Run trickling down my knee?"

Lord Thomas he had a sword by his side;
As he walk'd about the hall, 70
He cut off his bride's head from her shoulders,
And threw it against the wall.

He set the hilt against the ground,
And the point against his heart;
There never were three lovers met, 75
That sooner did depart.

LORD THOMAS AND FAIR ANNET.

From Percy's _Reliques_, iii. 290, where it was "given, with some corrections, from a MS. copy transmitted from Scotland." There is a corresponding Swedish Ballad, _Herr Peder och Liten Kerstin_, in the _Svenska Folk-Visor_, i. 49. It is translated in _Literature and Romance of Northern Europe_, by William and Mary Howitt, i. 258.

Lord Thomas and fair Annet
Sate a' day on a hill;
Whan night was cum, and sun was sett,
They had not talkt their fill.

Lord Thomas said a word in jest, 5
Fair Annet took it ill:
"A' I will nevir wed a wife
Against my ain friends will."

"Gif ye wull nevir wed a wife,
A wife wull neir wed yee:" 10
Sae he is hame to tell his mither,
And knelt upon his knee.

"O rede, O rede, mither," he says,
"A gude rede gie to mee:
O sall I tak the nut-browne bride, 15
And let faire Annet bee?"

"The nut-browne bride haes gowd and gear,
Fair Annet she has gat nane;
And the little beauty fair Annet has,
O it wull soon be gane." 20

And he has till his brother gane:
"Now, brother, rede ye mee;
A', sall I marrie the nut-browne bride,
And let fair Annet bee?"

"The nut-browne bride has oxen, brother, 25
The nut-browne bride has kye:
I wad hae ye marrie the nut-browne bride,
And cast fair Annet bye."

"Her oxen may dye i' the house, billie,
And her kye into the byre, 30
And I sall hae nothing to mysell,
Bot a fat fadge by the fyre."

And he has till his sister gane:
"Now sister, rede ye mee;
O sall I marrie the nut-browne bride, 35
And set fair Annet free?"

"Ise rede ye tak fair Annet, Thomas,
And let the browne bride alane;
Lest ye sould sigh, and say, Alace,
What is this we brought hame!" 40

"No, I will tak my mithers counsel,
And marrie me owt o' hand;
And I will tak the nut-browne bride;
Fair Annet may leive the land."

Up then rose fair Annets father, 45
Twa hours or it wer day,
And he is gane into the bower
Wherein fair Annet lay.

"Rise up, rise up, fair Annet," he says,
"Put on your silken sheene; 50
Let us gae to St. Maries kirke,
And see that rich weddeen."

"My maides, gae to my dressing-roome,
And dress to me my hair;
Whair-eir yee laid a plait before, 55
See yee lay ten times mair.

"My maids, gae to my dressing-room,
And dress to me my smock;
The one half is o' the holland fine,
The other o' needle-work." 60

The horse fair Annet rade upon,
He amblit like the wind;
Wi' siller he was shod before,
Wi' burning gowd behind.

Four and twanty siller bells 65
Wer a' tyed till his mane,
And yae tift o' the norland wind,
They tinkled ane by ane.

Four and twanty gay gude knichts
Rade by fair Annets side, 70
And four and twanty fair ladies,
As gin she had bin a bride.

And whan she cam to Maries kirk,
She sat on Maries stean:
The cleading that fair Annet had on 75
It skinkled in their een.

And whan she cam into the kirk,
She shimmer'd like the sun;
The belt that was about her waist,
Was a' wi' pearles bedone. 80

She sat her by the nut-browne bride,
And her een they wer sae clear,
Lord Thomas he clean forgat the bride,
Whan fair Annet she drew near.

He had a rose into his hand, 85
And he gave it kisses three,
And reaching by the nut-browne bride,
Laid it on fair Annets knee.

Up than spak the nut-browne bride,
She spak wi' meikle spite; 90
"And whair gat ye that rose-water,
That does mak yee sae white?"

"O I did get the rose-water
Whair ye wull neir get nane,
For I did get that very rose-water 95
Into my mithers wame."

The bride she drew a long bodkin
Frae out her gay head-gear,
And strake fair Annet unto the heart,
That word she nevir spak mair. 100

Lord Thomas he saw fair Annet wex pale,
And marvelit what mote bee:
But whan he saw her dear hearts blude,
A' wood-wroth wexed hee.

He drew his dagger, that was sae sharp, 105
That was sae sharp and meet,
And drave into the nut-browne bride,
That fell deid at his feit.

"Now stay for me, dear Annet," he sed,
"Now stay, my dear," he cry'd; 110
Then strake the dagger untill his heart,
And fell deid by her side.

Lord Thomas was buried without kirk-wa',
Fair Annet within the quiere;
And o' the tane thair grew a birk, 115
The other a bonny briere.

And ay they grew, and ay they threw,
As they wad faine be neare;
And by this ye may ken right weil,
They were twa luvers deare. 120

SWEET WILLIE AND FAIR ANNIE

Is another version of the foregoing piece, furnished by Jamieson, _Popular Ballads_, i. 22.

"The text of _Lord Thomas and Fair Annet_," remarks Jamieson, "seems to have been adjusted, previous to its leaving Scotland, by some one who was more of a scholar than the reciters of ballads generally are; and, in attempting to give it an antique cast, it has been deprived of somewhat of that easy facility which is the distinguished characteristic of the traditionary ballad narrative. With the text of the following ditty, no such experiment has been made. It is here given pure and entire, as it was taken down by the editor, from the recitation of a lady in Aberbrothick, (Mrs. W. Arrot.) As she had, when a child, learnt the ballad from an elderly maid-servant, and probably had not repeated it for a dozen years before I had the good fortune to be introduced to her, it may be depended upon, that every line was recited to me as nearly as possible in the exact form in which she learnt it."

Mr. Chambers, in conformity with the plan of his work, presents us with an edition composed out of Percy's and Jamieson's, with some amended readings and additional verses from a manuscript copy, (_Scottish Ballads_, p. 269.)

Sweet Willie and fair Annie
Sat a' day on a hill;
And though they had sitten seven year,
They ne'er wad had their fill.

Sweet Willie said a word in haste, 5
And Annie took it ill:
"I winna wed a tocherless maid,
Against my parent's will."

"Ye're come o' the rich, Willie,
And I'm come o' the poor; 10
I'm o'er laigh to be your bride,
And I winna be your whore."

O Annie she's gane till her bower,
And Willie down the den;
And he's come till his mither's bower, 15
By the lei light o' the moon.

"O sleep ye, wake ye, mither?" he says,
"Or are ye the bower within?"
"I sleep richt aft, I wake richt aft;[L19]
What want ye wi' me, son? 20

"Whare hae ye been a' night, Willie?
O wow! ye've tarried lang!"
"I have been courtin' fair Annie,
And she is frae me gane.

"There is twa maidens in a bower; 25
Which o' them sall I bring hame?
The nut-brown maid has sheep and cows,
And fair Annie has nane."

"It's an ye wed the nut-brown maid,
I'll heap gold wi' my hand; 30
But an ye wed her, fair Annie,
I'll straik it wi' a wand.

"The nut-brown maid has sheep and cows,
And fair Annie has nane;
And Willie, for my benison, 35
The nut-brown maid bring hame."

"O I sall wed the nut-brown maid,
And I sall bring her hame;
But peace nor rest between us twa,
Till death sinder's again. 40

"But, alas, alas!" says sweet Willie,
"O fair is Annie's face!"
"But what's the matter, my son Willie,
She has nae ither grace."

"Alas, alas!" says sweet Willie, 45
"But white is Annie's hand!"
"But what's the matter, my son Willie,
She hasna a fur o' land."

"Sheep will die in cots, mither,
And owsen die in byre; 50
And what's this warld's wealth to me,
An I get na my heart's desire?

"Whare will I get a bonny boy,
That wad fain win hose and shoon,
That will rin to fair Annie's bower, 55
Wi' the lei light o' the moon?

"Ye'll tell her to come to Willie's weddin',
The morn at twal at noon;
Ye'll tell her to come to Willie's weddin',
The heir o' Duplin town.[L60] 60

"She manna put on the black, the black,
Nor yet the dowie brown;
But the scarlet sae red, and the kerches sae white,
And her bonny locks hangin' down."

He is on to Annie's bower, 65
And tirled at the pin;
And wha was sae ready as Annie hersel,
To open and let him in.

"Ye are bidden come to Willie's weddin',
The morn at twal at noon; 70
Ye are bidden come to Willie's weddin',
The heir of Duplin town.

"Ye manna put on the black, the black,
Nor yet the dowie brown;
But the scarlet sae red, and the kerches sae white, 75
And your bonny locks hangin' down."

"Its I will come to Willie's weddin',
The morn at twal at noon;
Its I will come to Willie's weddin',
But I rather the mass had been mine. 80

"Maidens, to my bower come,
And lay gold on my hair;
And whare ye laid ae plait before,
Ye'll now lay ten times mair.

"Taylors, to my bower come, 85
And mak to me a weed;
And smiths unto my stable come,
And shoe to me a steed."

At every tate o' Annie's horse' mane
There hang a silver bell; 90
And there came a wind out frae the south,
Which made them a' to knell.

And whan she came to Mary-kirk,
And sat down in the deas,
The light, that came frae fair Annie, 95
Enlighten'd a' the place.

But up and stands the nut-brown bride,
Just at her father's knee;
"O wha is this, my father dear,
That blinks in Willie's e'e?" 100
"O this is Willie's first true love,
Before he loved thee."

"If that be Willie's first true love,
He might ha'e latten me be;
She has as much gold on ae finger, 105
As I'll wear till I die.

"O whare got ye that water, Annie,
That washes you sae white?"
"I got it in my mither's wambe,
Whare ye'll ne'er get the like. 110

"For ye've been wash'd in Dunny's well,
And dried on Dunny's dyke;
And a' the water in the sea
Will never wash ye white."

Willie's ta'en a rose out o' his hat, 115
Laid it in Annie's lap;
"[The bonniest to the bonniest fa's,]
Hae, wear it for my sake."

"Tak up and wear your rose, Willie,
And wear't wi' mickle care, 120
For the woman sall never bear a son,
That will mak my heart sae sair."

Whan night was come, and day was gane,
And a' man boun to bed,
Sweet Willie and the nut-brown bride 125
In their chamber were laid.

They werena weel lyen down,
And scarcely fa'n asleep,
Whan up and stands she, fair Annie,
Just up at Willie's feet. 130

"Weel brook ye o' your brown brown bride,
Between ye and the wa';
And sae will I o' my winding sheet,
That suits me best ava.

"Weel brook ye o' your brown brown bride, 135
Between ye and the stock;
And sae will I o' my black black kist,
That has neither key nor lock."

Sad Willie raise, put on his claise,
Drew till him his hose and shoon, 140
And he is on to Annie's bower,
By the lei light o' the moon.

The firsten bower that he came till,
There was right dowie wark;
Her mither and her three sisters 145
Were makin' to Annie a sark.

The nexten bower that he came till,
There was right dowie cheir;
Her father and her seven brethren
Were makin' to Annie a bier. 150

The lasten bower, that he came till,
[O heavy was his care!
The waxen lights were burning bright,]
And fair Annie streekit there.

He's lifted up the coverlet, 155
[Where she, fair Annie, lay;
Sweet was her smile, but wan her cheek;
O wan, and cald as clay!]

"It's I will kiss your bonny cheek,
And I will kiss your chin; 160
And I will kiss your clay-cald lip;
But I'll never kiss woman again.

"The day ye deal at Annie's burial
The bread but and the wine;
Before the morn at twall o'clock, 165
They'll deal the same at mine."

The tane was buried in Mary's kirk,
The tither in Mary's quire;
And out o' the tane there grew a birk,
And out o' the tither a brier. 170

And ay they grew, and ay they drew,
Untill they twa did meet;
And every ane that past them by,
Said, "Thae's been lovers sweet!"

19. That is, my slumbers are short, broken, and interrupted. J.

60. _Duplin town._ Duplin is the seat of the earl of Kinnoul, from which he derives his title of viscount. It is in the neighborhood of Perth. It is observable, that ballads are very frequently adapted to the meridian of the place where they are found. J.

FAIR MARGARET AND SWEET WILLIAM.

From Percy's _Reliques_, iii. 164.

"This seems to be the old song quoted in Fletcher's _Knight of the Burning Pestle_, acts ii. and iii.; although the six lines there preserved are somewhat different from those in the ballad, as it stands at present. The reader will not wonder at this, when he is informed that this is only given from a modern printed copy picked up on a stall. Its full title is _Fair Margaret's misfortunes; or Sweet William's frightful dreams on his wedding night, with the sudden death and burial of those noble lovers_.

"The lines preserved in the play are this distich:

"You are no love for me, Margaret,
I am no love for you." Act iii. 5.

And the following stanza:

"When it was grown to dark midnight,
And all were fast asleep,
In came Margarets grimly ghost,
And stood at Williams feet. Act ii. 8.

"These lines have acquired an importance by giving birth to one of the most beautiful ballads in our own or any other language: [Mallet's _Margaret's Ghost_.]

"Since the first edition, some improvements have been inserted, which were communicated by a lady of the first distinction, as she had heard this song repeated in her infancy."

The variations in Herd's copy, (i. 145,) and in Ritson's (_Ancient Songs_, ii. 92,) are unimportant.

In the main the same is the widely known ballad, _Der Ritter und das M[:a]gdlein_, Erk, p. 81, Hoffmann's _Schlesische Volkslieder_, p. 9; _Herr Malmstens Dr[:o]m, Svenska Folkvisor_, iii. 104; Arwidsson, ii. 21; _Volkslieder der Wenden_, by Haupt and Schmaler, i. 159-162 (Hoffmann); in Dutch, with a different close, Hoffmann's _Niederl[:a]ndische Volkslieder_, p. 61: also _Lord Lovel_, _post_, p. 162.

As it fell out on a long summer's day,
Two lovers they sat on a hill;
They sat together that long summer's day,
And could not talk their fill.

"I see no harm by you, Margaret, 5
And you see none by mee;
Before to-morrow at eight o' the clock
A rich wedding you shall see."

Fair Margaret sat in her bower-window,
Combing her yellow hair; 10
There she spyed sweet William and his bride,
As they were a riding near.

Then down she layd her ivory combe,
And braided her hair in twain:
She went alive out of her bower, 15
But ne'er came alive in't again.

When day was gone, and night was come,
And all men fast asleep,
Then came the spirit of fair Marg'ret,
And stood at Williams feet. 20

"Are you awake, sweet William?" shee said,[L21]
"Or, sweet William, are you asleep?
God give you joy of your gay bride-bed,
And me of my winding-sheet."

When day was come, and night 'twas gone, 25
And all men wak'd from sleep,
Sweet William to his lady sayd,
"My dear, I have cause to weep.

"I dreamt a dream, my dear ladye,
Such dreames are never good: 30
I dreamt my bower was full of red swine,
And my bride-bed full of blood."

"Such dreams, such dreams, my honoured sir,
They never do prove good;
To dream thy bower was full of red swine, 35
And thy bride-bed full of blood."

He called up his merry men all,
By one, by two, and by three;
Saying, "I'll away to fair Marg'ret's bower,
By the leave of my ladie." 40

And when he came to fair Marg'ret's bower,
He knocked at the ring;
And who so ready as her seven brethren,
To let sweet William in.

Then he turned up the covering-sheet; 45
"Pray let me see the dead;
Methinks she looks all pale and wan,
She hath lost her cherry red.

"I'll do more for thee, Margaret,
Than any of thy kin: 50
For I will kiss thy pale wan lips,
Though a smile I cannot win."

With that bespake the seven brethren,
Making most piteous mone,
"You may go kiss your jolly brown bride, 55
And let our sister alone."

"If I do kiss my jolly brown bride,
I do but what is right;
I neer made a vow to yonder poor corpse,
By day, nor yet by night. 60

"Deal on, deal on, my merry men all,
Deal on your cake and your wine:[L62]
For whatever is dealt at her funeral to-day,
Shall be dealt to-morrow at mine."

Fair Margaret dyed to-day, to-day, 65
Sweet William dyed the morrow:
Fair Margaret dyed for pure true love,
Sweet William dyed for sorrow.

Margaret was buryed in the lower chancel,
And William in the higher: 70
Out of her brest there sprang a rose,
And out of his a briar.

They grew till they grew unto the church top,
And then they could grow no higher;
And there they tyed in a true lovers knot, 75
Which made all the people admire.

Then came the clerk of the parish,
As you the truth shall hear,
And by misfortune cut them down,
Or they had now been there. 80

21-24.

God give you joy, you lovers true,
In bride-bed fast asleep;
Lo! I am going to my green-grass grave,
And I'm in my winding sheet. HERD'S copy.

62. Alluding to the dole anciently given at funerals. P.

SWEET WILLIAM'S GHOST

As already remarked, is often made the sequel to other ballads. (See _Clerk Saunders_, p. 45.) It was first printed in the fourth volume of Ramsay's _Tea Table Miscellany_, with some imperfections, and with two spurious stanzas for a conclusion. We subjoin to Ramsay's copy the admirable version obtained by Motherwell from recitation, and still another variation furnished by Kinloch.

Closely similar in many respects are the Danish _F[ae]stemanden i Graven (Aage og Else)_, Grundtvig, No. 90, and the Swedish _Sorgens Magt_, _Svenska F. V._, i. 29, ii. 204, or Arwidsson, ii. 103. Also _Der Todte Freier_, Erk's _Liederhort_, 24, 24 a. In the Danish and Swedish ballads it is the uncontrolled grief of his mistress that calls the lover from his grave: in the English, the desire to be freed from his troth-plight.--See vol. i. p. 213, 217.

There came a ghost to Margaret's door,
With many a grievous groan,
And ay he tirled at the pin,
But answer made she none.

"Is that my father Philip, 5
Or is't my brother John?
Or is't my true love Willy,
From Scotland new come home?"

"Tis not thy father Philip,
Nor yet thy brother John; 10
But 'tis thy true love Willy,
From Scotland new come home.

"O sweet Margaret! O dear Margaret!
I pray thee speak to mee:
Give me my faith and troth, Margaret, 15
As I gave it to thee."

"Thy faith and troth thou's never get,
Nor yet will I thee lend,
Till that thou come within my bower,
And kiss my cheek and chin." 20

"If I should come within thy bower,
I am no earthly man:
And should I kiss thy rosy lips,
Thy days will not be lang.

"O sweet Margaret, O dear Margaret, 25
I pray thee speak to mee:
Give me my faith and troth, Margaret,
As I gave it to thee."

"Thy faith and troth thou's never get,
Nor yet will I thee lend, 30
Till you take me to yon kirk-yard,
And wed me with a ring."

"My bones are buried in yon kirk-yard,
Afar beyond the sea,
And it is but my spirit, Margaret, 35
That's now speaking to thee."

She stretched out her lily-white hand,
And for to do her best;
"Hae there[L39] your faith and troth, Willy,
God send your soul good rest." 40

Now she has kilted her robes of green
A piece below her knee,
And a' the live-lang winter night
The dead corps followed she.

"Is there any room at your head, Willy, 45
Or any room at your feet?
Or any room at your side, Willy,
Wherein that I may creep?"

"There's no room at my head, Margaret,
There's no room at my feet; 50
There's no room at my side, Margaret,
My coffin's made so meet."

Then up and crew the red red cock,
And up then crew the gray:
"Tis time, tis time, my dear Margaret, 55
That you were going away."

No more the ghost to Margaret said,
But, with a grievous groan,
Evanish'd in a cloud of mist,
And left her all alone. 60

"O stay, my only true love, stay,"
The constant Margaret cried:
Wan grew her cheeks, she closed her een,
Stretch'd her soft limbs, and died.

39. ther's.

WILLIAM AND MARJORIE.

Motherwell's _Minstrelsy_, p. 186.

Lady Marjorie, Lady Marjorie,
Sat sewing her silken seam,
And by her came a pale, pale ghost,
Wi' mony a sigh and mane.

"Are ye my father the king?" she says, 5
"Or are ye my brither John?
Or are ye my true love, sweet William,
From England newly come?"

"I'm not your father the king," he says,
"No, no, nor your brither John; 10
But I'm your true love, sweet William,
From England that's newly come."

"Have ye brought me any scarlets sae red,
Or any of the silks sae fine;
Or have ye brought me any precious things, 15
That merchants have for sale?"

"I have not brought you any scarlets sae red,
No, no, nor the silks sae fine;
But I have brought you my winding-sheet
Ower many a rock and hill. 20

"Lady Marjorie, Lady Marjorie,
For faith and charitie,
Will ye gie to me my faith and troth,
That I gave once to thee?"

"O your faith and troth I'll not gie to thee, 25
No, no, that will not I,
Until I get ae kiss of your ruby lips,
And in my arms you lye."

"My lips they are sae bitter," he says,
"My breath it is sae strang, 30
If you get ae kiss of my ruby lips,
Your days will not be lang.

"The cocks are crawing, Marjorie," he says,--
"The cocks are crawing again;
It's time the dead should part the quick,-- 35
Marjorie, I must be gane."

She followed him high, she followed him low,
Till she came to yon churchyard green;
And there the deep grave opened up,
And young William he lay down. 40

"What three things are these, sweet William," she says,
"That stand here at your head?"
"O it's three maidens, Marjorie," he says,
"That I promised once to wed."

"What three things are these, sweet William," she says, 45
"That stand close at your side?"
"O it's three babes, Marjorie," he says,
"That these three maidens had."

"What three things are these, sweet William," she says,
"That lye close at your feet?" 50
"O it's three hell-hounds, Marjorie," he says,
"That's waiting my soul to keep."

O she took up her white, white hand,
And she struck him on the breast,
Saying,--"Have there again your faith and troth, 55
And I wish your saul gude rest."

SWEET WILLIAM AND MAY MARGARET.

Kinloch's _Ancient Scottish Ballads_, p. 241.

As May Marg'ret sat in her bouerie,
In her bouer all alone,
At the very parting o' midnicht,
She heard a mournfu' moan.

"O is it my father, O is it my mother, 5
Or is it my brother John?
Or is it sweet William, my ain true love,
To Scotland new come home?"

"It is na your father, it is na your mother,
It is na your brother John; 10
But it is sweet William, your ain true love,
To Scotland new come home."--

"Hae ye brought me onie fine things,
Onie new thing for to wear?
Or hae ye brought me a braid o' lace, 15
To snood up my gowden hair?"

"I've brought ye na fine things at all,
Nor onie new thing to wear,
Nor hae I brought ye a braid of lace,
To snood up your gowden hair. 20

"But Margaret, dear Margaret,
I pray ye speak to me;
O gie me back my faith and troth,
As dear as I gied it thee!"

"Your faith and troth ye sanna get, 25
Nor will I wi' ye twin,
Till ye come within my bower,
And kiss me, cheek and chin."

"O Margaret, dear Margaret,
I pray ye speak to me; 30
O gie me back my faith and troth,
As dear as I gied it thee."

"Your faith and troth ye sanna get,
Nor will I wi' ye twin,
Till ye tak me to yonder kirk, 35
And wed me wi' a ring."

"O should I come within your bouer,
I am na earthly man:
If I should kiss your red, red lips,
Your days wad na be lang. 40

"My banes are buried in yon kirk-yard,
It's far ayont the sea;
And it is my spirit, Margaret,
That's speaking unto thee."

"Your faith and troth ye sanna get, 45
Nor will I twin wi' thee,
Tell ye tell me the pleasures o' Heaven,
And pains of hell how they be."

"The pleasures of heaven I wat not of,
But the pains of hell I dree; 50
There some are hie hang'd for huring,
And some for adulterie."

Then Marg'ret took her milk-white hand,
And smooth'd it on his breast;--
"Tak your faith and troth, William, 55
God send your soul good rest!"

BONNY BARBARA ALLAN

Was first published in Ramsay's _Tea-Table Miscellany_, (ii. 171,) from which it is transferred verbatim into Herd's _Scottish Songs_, Johnson's _Museum_, Ritson's _Scottish Songs_, &c. Percy printed it, "with a few conjectural emendations, from a written copy," _Reliques_, iii. 175, together with another version, which follows the present. Mr. G. F. Graham, _Songs of Scotland_, ii. 157, has pointed out an allusion to the "little Scotch Song of _Barbary Allen_," in Pepys's _Diary_, 2 Jan. 1665-6.

It was in and about the Martinmas time,
When the green leaves were a falling,
That Sir John Graeme in the west country
Fell in love with Barbara Allan.

He sent his man down through the town, 5
To the place where she was dwelling;
"O haste and come to my master dear,
Gin ye be Barbara Allan."

O hooly, hooly rose she up,
To the place where he was lying, 10
And when she drew the curtain by,
"Young man, I think you're dying."

"O it's I'm sick, and very, very sick,
And 'tis a' for Barbara Allan:"
"O the better for me ye's never be, 15
Tho' your heart's blood were a spilling.

"O dinna ye mind, young man," said she,
"When ye was in the tavern a drinking,
That ye made the healths gae round and round,
And slighted Barbara Allan." 20

He turn'd his face unto the wall,
And death was with him dealing;
"Adieu, adieu, my dear friends all,
And be kind to Barbara Allan."

And slowly, slowly raise she up, 25
And slowly, slowly left him;
And sighing said, she cou'd not stay,
Since death of life had reft him.

She had not gane a mile but twa,
When she heard the dead-bell ringing, 30
And every jow that the dead-bell geid,
It cry'd "Woe to Barbara Allan!"

"O mother, mother, make my bed,
O make it saft and narrow;
Since my love died for me today, 35
I'll die for him tomorrow."

BARBARA ALLEN'S CRUELTY.

From Percy's _Reliques_, iii. 169.

"Given, with some corrections, from an old blackletter copy, entitled, _Barbara Allen's Cruelty, or the Young Man's Tragedy_."

In Scarlet towne, where I was borne,
There was a faire maid dwellin,
Made every youth crye, Wel-awaye!
Her name was Barbara Allen.

All in the merrye month of May, 5
When greene buds they were swellin,
Yong Jemmye Grove on his death-bed lay,
For love of Barbara Allen.

He sent his man unto her then,
To the towne where shee was dwellin; 10
"You must come to my master deare,
Giff your name be Barbara Allen.

"For death is printed on his face,
And ore his hart is stealin:
Then haste away to comfort him, 15
O lovelye Barbara Allen."

"Though death be printed on his face,
And ore his harte is stealin,
Yet little better shall he bee
For bonny Barbara Allen." 20

So slowly, slowly, she came up,
And slowly she came nye him;
And all she sayd, when there she came,
"Yong man, I think y'are dying."

He turned his face unto her strait, 25
With deadlye sorrow sighing;
"O lovely maid, come pity mee,
I'me on my death-bed lying."

"If on your death-bed you doe lye,
What needs the tale you are tellin? 30
I cannot keep you from your death;
Farewell," sayd Barbara Allen.

He turnd his face unto the wall,
As deadlye pangs he fell in:
"Adieu! adieu! adieu to you all, 35
Adieu to Barbara Allen!"

As she was walking ore the fields,
She heard the bell a knellin;
And every stroke did seem to saye,
"Unworthy Barbara Allen!" 40

She turnd her bodye round about,
And spied the corps a coming:
"Laye down, laye down the corps," she sayd,
"That I may look upon him."

With scornful eye she looked downe, 45
Her cheeke with laughter swellin,
Whilst all her friends cryd out amaine,
"Unworthye Barbara Allen!"

When he was dead, and laid in grave,
Her harte was struck with sorrowe; 50
"O mother, mother, make my bed,
For I shall dye to-morrowe.

"Hard-harted creature him to slight,
Who loved me so dearlye:
O that I had beene more kind to him, 55
When he was alive and neare me!"

She, on her death-bed as she laye,
Beg'd to be buried by him,
And sore repented of the daye,
That she did ere denye him. 60

"Farewell," she sayd, "ye virgins all,
And shun the fault I fell in:
Henceforth take warning by the fall
Of cruel Barbara Allen."

LORD LOVEL.

"This ballad, taken down from the recitation of a lady in Roxburghshire, appears to claim affinity to Border Song; and the title of the 'discourteous squire', would incline one to suppose that it has derived its origin from some circumstance connected with the county of Northumberland, where Lovel was anciently a well-known name." Kinloch's _Ancient Scottish Ballads_, p. 31.

A version from a recent broadside is printed in _Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs of the Peasantry of England_, Percy Society, vol. xvii. p. 78.

A fragment of a similar story, the relations of the parties being reversed, is _Lady Alice_, given in Bell's Ballads of the Peasantry, p. 127, and _Notes and Queries_, 2d S, i. 418.--Compare also _Fair Margaret_, &c. p. 140.

Lord Lovel stands at his stable door,
Mounted upon a grey steed;
And bye came Ladie Nanciebel,
And wish'd Lord Lovel much speed.

"O whare are ye going, Lord Lovel, 5
My dearest tell to me?"
"O I am going a far journey,
Some strange countrie to see;

"But I'll return in seven long years,
Lady Nanciebel to see." 10
"O seven, seven, seven long years,
They are much too long for me."

* * * * * * *

He was gane a year away,
A year but barely ane,
When a strange fancy cam into his head, 15
That fair Nanciebel was gane.

It's then he rade, and better rade,
Until he cam to the toun,
And then he heard a dismal noise,
For the church bells a' did soun'. 20

He asked what the bells rang for;
They said, "It's for Nanciebel;
She died for a discourteous squire,
And his name is Lord Lovel."

The lid o' the coffin he opened up, 25
The linens he faulded doun;
And ae he kiss'd her pale, pale lips,
And the tears cam trinkling doun.

"Weill may I kiss those pale, pale lips,
For they will never kiss me;-- 30
I'll mak a vow, and keep it true,
That they'll ne'er kiss ane but thee."

Lady Nancie died on Tuesday's nicht,
Lord Lovel upon the niest day;
Lady Nancie died for pure, pure love, 35
Lord Lovel, for deep sorray.

LORD SALTON AND AUCHANACHIE.

The following fragment was first published in Maidment's _North Countrie Garland_, p. 10; shortly after, in Buchan's _Gleanings_, p. 161. A more complete copy, from Buchan's larger collection, is annexed.

* * * * * *

Ben came her father,
Skipping on the floor,
Said, "Jeanie, you're trying
The tricks of a whore.

"You're caring for him 5
That cares not for thee,
And I pray you take Salton,
Let Auchanachie be."

"I will not have Salton,
It lies low by the sea; 10
He is bowed in the back,
He's thrawen in the knee;
And I'll die if I get not
My brave Auchanachie."

"I am bowed in the back, 15
Lassie as ye see,
But the bonny lands of Salton
Are no crooked tee."

And when she was married
She would not lie down, 20
But they took out a knife,
And cuttit her gown;

Likewise of her stays
The lacing in three,
And now she lies dead 25
For her Auchanachie.

Out comes her bower-woman,
Wringing her hands,
Says, "Alas for the staying
So long on the sands! 30

"Alas for the staying
So long on the flood!
For Jeanie was married,
And now she is dead."

LORD SALTON AND AUCHANACHIE.

From Buchan's _Ballads of the North of Scotland_, ii. 133.

"Auchanachie Gordon is bonny and braw,
He would tempt any woman that ever he saw;
He would tempt any woman, so has he tempted me,
And I'll die if I getna my love Auchanachie."

In came her father, tripping on the floor, 5
Says, "Jeanie, ye're trying the tricks o' a whore;
Ye're caring for them that cares little for thee,
Ye must marry Salton, leave Auchanachie.

"Auchanachie Gordon, he is but a man,
Altho' he be pretty, where lies his free land? 10
Salton's lands they lie broad, his towers they stand hie,
Ye must marry Salton, leave Auchanachie.

"Salton will gar you wear silk gowns fring'd to thy knee,
But ye'll never wear that wi' your love Auchanachie."
"Wi' Auchanachie Gordon I would beg my bread, 15
Before that wi' Salton I'd wear gowd on my head;

"Wear gowd on my head, or gowns fring'd to the knee,
And I'll die if I getna my love Auchanachie;
O Salton's valley lies low by the sea,
He's bowed on the back, and thrawin on the knee." 20

"O Salton's a valley lies low by the sea;
Though he's bowed on the back, and thrawin on the knee,
Though he's bowed on the back, and thrawin on the knee,
The bonny rigs of Salton they're nae thrawin tee."

"O you that are my parents to church may me bring, 25
But unto young Salton I'll never bear a son;
For son, or for daughter, I'll ne'er bow my knee,
And I'll die if I getna my love Auchanachie."

When Jeanie was married, from church was brought hame,
When she wi' her maidens sae merry shou'd hae been, 30
When she wi' her maidens sae merry shou'd hae been,
She's called for a chamber to weep there her lane.

"Come to your bed, Jeanie, my honey and my sweet,
For to stile you mistress I do not think it meet."
"Mistress, or Jeanie, it is a' ane to me, 35
It's in your bed, Salton, I never will be."

Then out spake her father, he spake wi' renown,
"Some of you that are maidens, ye'll loose aff her gown;
Some of you that are maidens, ye'll loose aff her gown,
And I'll mend the marriage wi' ten thousand crowns." 40

Then ane of her maidens they loosed aff her gown,
But bonny Jeanie Gordon, she fell in a swoon;
She fell in a swoon low down by their knee;
Says, "Look on, I die for my love Auchanachie!"

That very same day Miss Jeanie did die, 45
And hame came Auchanachie, hame frae the sea;
Her father and mither welcom'd him at the gate;
He said, "Where's Miss Jeanie, that she's nae here yet?"

Then forth came her maidens, all wringing their hands,
Saying, "Alas! for your staying sae lang frae the land: 50
Sae lang frae the land, and sae lang fra the fleed,
They've wedded your Jeanie, and now she is dead!"

"Some of you, her maidens, take me by the hand,
And show me the chamber Miss Jeanie died in;"
He kiss'd her cold lips, which were colder than stane, 55
And he died in the chamber that Jeanie died in.

WILLIE AND MAY MARGARET.

A fragment obtained by Jamieson from the recitation of Mrs. Brown, of Falkland. _Popular Ballads_, i. 135. In connection with this we give the complete story from Buchan. Aytoun has changed the title to _The Mother's Malison_. An Italian ballad, containing a story similar to that of this ballad and the two following (but of independent origin), is _La Maledizione Materna_, in Marcoaldi's _Canti Popolari_, p. 170.

"Gie corn to my horse, mither;
Gie meat unto my man;
For I maun gang to Margaret's bower,
Before the nicht comes on."

"O stay at hame now, my son Willie! 5
The wind blaws cald and sour;
The nicht will be baith mirk and late,
Before ye reach her bower."

"O tho' the nicht were ever sae dark,
Or the wind blew never sae cald, 10
I will be in my Margaret's bower
Before twa hours be tald."

"O gin ye gang to May Margaret,
Without the leave of me,
Clyde's water's wide and deep enough;-- 15
My malison drown thee!"

He mounted on his coal-black steed,
And fast he rade awa';
But, ere he came to Clyde's water,
Fu' loud the wind did blaw. 20

As he rode o'er yon hich, hich hill,
And down yon dowie den,
There was a roar in Clyde's water
Wad fear'd a hunder men.

His heart was warm, his pride was up; 25
Sweet Willie kentna fear;
But yet his mither's malison
Ay sounded in his ear.

O he has swam through Clyde's water,
Tho' it was wide and deep; 30
And he came to May Margaret's door,
When a' were fast asleep.

O he's gane round and round about,
And tirled at the pin;
But doors were steek'd, and window's bar'd, 35
And nane wad let him in.

"O open the door to me, Margaret,--
O open and lat me in!
For my boots are full o' Clyde's water,
And frozen to the brim." 40

"I darena open the door to you,
Nor darena lat you in;
For my mither she is fast asleep,
And I darena mak nae din."

"O gin ye winna open the door, 45
Nor yet be kind to me,
Now tell me o' some out-chamber,
Where I this nicht may be."

"Ye canna win in this nicht, Willie,
Nor here ye canna be; 50
For I've nae chambers out nor in,
Nae ane but barely three:

"The tane o' them is fu' o' corn,
The tither is fu' o' hay;
The tither is fu' o' merry young men;-- 55
They winna remove till day."

"O fare ye weel, then, May Margaret,
Sin better manna be;
I've win my mither's malison,
Coming this nicht to thee." 60

He's mounted on his coal-black steed,--
O but his heart was wae!
But, ere he came to Clyde's water,
'Twas half up o'er the brae.

* * * * * * *

---- he plunged in,
But never raise again.

THE DROWNED LOVERS.

From Buchan's _Ballads of the North of Scotland_, i. 140. The copy in the Appendix to Motherwell's _Minstrelsy_, p. iii., is nearly the same.

Willie stands in his stable door,
And clapping at his steed;
And looking o'er his white fingers,
His nose began to bleed.

"Gie corn to my horse, mother; 5
And meat to my young man;
And I'll awa' to Meggie's bower,
I'll win ere she lie down."

"O bide this night wi' me, Willie,
O bide this night wi' me; 10
The best an' cock o' a' the reest,
At your supper shall be.

"A' your cocks, and a' your reests,
I value not a prin;
For I'll awa' to Meggie's bower, 15
I'll win ere she lie down."

"Stay this night wi' me, Willie,
O stay this night wi' me;
The best an' sheep in a' the flock
At your supper shall be." 20

"A' your sheep, and a' your flocks,
I value not a prin;
For I'll awa' to Meggie's bower,
I'll win ere she lie down."

"O an' ye gang to Meggie's bower, 25
Sae sair against my will,
The deepest pot in Clyde's water,
My malison ye's feel."

"The guid steed that I ride upon
Cost me thrice thretty pound; 30
And I'll put trust in his swift feet,
To hae me safe to land."

As he rade ower yon high, high hill,
And down yon dowie den,
The noise that was in Clyde's water 35
Wou'd fear'd five huner men.

"O roaring Clyde, ye roar ower loud,
Your streams seem wond'rous strang;
Make me your wreck as I come back,[L39]
But spare me as I gang." 40

Then he is on to Meggie's bower,
And tirled at the pin;
"O sleep ye, wake ye, Meggie," he said,
"Ye'll open, lat me come in."

"O wha is this at my bower door, 45
That calls me by my name?"
"It is your first love, sweet Willie,
This night newly come hame."

"I hae few lovers thereout, thereout,
As few hae I therein; 50
The best an' love that ever I had,
Was here just late yestreen."

"The warstan stable in a' your stables,
For my puir steed to stand;
The warstan bower in a' your bowers, 55
For me to lie therein:
My boots are fu' o' Clyde's water,
I'm shivering at the chin."

"My barns are fu' o' corn, Willie,
My stables are fu' o' hay; 60
My bowers are fu' o' gentlemen;--
They'll nae remove till day."

"O fare-ye-well, my fause Meggie,
O farewell, and adieu;
I've gotten my mither's malison, 65
This night coming to you."

As he rode ower yon high, high hill,
And down yon dowie den;
The rushing that was in Clyde's water
Took Willie's cane frae him. 70

He lean'd him ower his saddle bow,
To catch his cane again;
The rushing that was in Clyde's water
Took Willie's hat frae him.

He lean'd him ower his saddle bow, 75
To catch his hat thro' force;
The rushing that was in Clyde's water
Took Willie frae his horse.

His brither stood upo' the bank,
Says, "Fye, man, will ye drown? 80
Ye'll turn ye to your high horse head,
And learn how to sowm."

"How can I turn to my horse head,
And learn how to sowm?
I've gotten my mither's malison, 85
Its here that I maun drown!"

The very hour this young man sank
Into the pot sae deep,
Up it waken'd his love, Meggie,
Out o' her drowsy sleep. 90

"Come here, come here, my mither dear,
And read this dreary dream;
I dream'd my love was at our gates,
And nane wad let him in."

"Lye still, lye still now, my Meggie. 95
Lye still and tak your rest;
Sin' your true love was at your yates,
It's but twa quarters past."

Nimbly, nimbly raise she up,
And nimbly pat she on; 100
And the higher that the lady cried,
The louder blew the win'.

The first an' step that she stepp'd in,
She stepped to the queet;
"Ohon, alas!" said that lady, 105
"This water's wond'rous deep."

The next an' step that she wade in,
She wadit to the knee;
Says she, "I cou'd wide farther in,
If I my love cou'd see." 110

The next an' step that she wade in,
She wadit to the chin;
The deepest pot in Clyde's water
She got sweet Willie in.

"You've had a cruel mither, Willie, 115
And I have had anither;
But we shall sleep in Clyde's water,
Like sister an' like brither."

39, 40. Found also in _Leander on the Bay_, and taken from the epigram of Martial:

"Clamabat tumidis audax Leander in undis,
Mergite me fluctus, cum rediturus ero."

WILLIE'S DROWNED IN GAMERY.

From Buchan's _Ballads of the North of Scotland_, i. 245. A fragment, exhibiting some differences, is among those ballads of Buchan which are published in the Percy Society's volumes, xvii. 66. Four stanzas, of a superior cast, upon the same story, are printed in the _Tea-Table Miscellany_, (ii. 141.)

_Rare Willy drown'd in Yarrow._

"Willy's rare, and Willy's fair,
And Willy's wond'rous bonny;
And Willy heght to marry me,
Gin e'er he married ony.

"Yestreen I made my bed fu' braid,
This night I'll make it narrow;
For a' the livelang winter night
I ly twin'd of my marrow.

"O came you by yon water-side?
Pou'd you the rose or lilly?
Or came you by yon meadow green?
Or saw you my sweet Willy?"

She sought him east, she sought him west,
She sought him braid and narrow;
Syne in the cleaving of a craig,
She found him drown'd in Yarrow.