Chapter VII: Book II: Glasgerion (4)

These stanzas furnished the theme to Logan's _Braes of Yarrow_.

"O Willie is fair, and Willie is rare,
And Willie is wond'rous bonny;
And Willie says he'll marry me,
Gin ever he marry ony."

"O ye'se get James, or ye'se get George, 5
Or ye's get bonny Johnnie;
Ye'se get the flower o' a' my sons,
Gin ye'll forsake my Willie."

"O what care I for James or George,
Or yet for bonny Peter? 10
I dinna value their love a leek,
An' I getna Willie the writer."

"O Willie has a bonny hand,
And dear but it is bonny;"
"He has nae mair for a' his land; 15
What wou'd ye do wi' Willie?"

"O Willie has a bonny face,
And dear but it is bonny;"
"But Willie has nae other grace;
What wou'd ye do wi' Willie?" 20

"Willie's fair, and Willie's rare,
And Willie's wond'rous bonny;
There's nane wi' him that can compare,
I love him best of ony."

On Wednesday, that fatal day, 25
The people were convening;
Besides all this, threescore and ten,
To gang to the bridesteel wi' him.

"Ride on, ride on, my merry men a',
I've forgot something behind me; 30
I've forgot to get my mother's blessing,
To gae to the bridesteel wi' me."

"Your Peggy she's but bare fifteen,
And ye are scarcely twenty;
The water o' Gamery is wide and braid, 35
My heavy curse gang wi' thee!"

Then they rode on, and further on,
Till they came on to Gamery;
The wind was loud, the stream was proud,
And wi' the stream gaed Willie. 40

Then they rode on, and further on,
Till they came to the kirk o' Gamery;
And every one on high horse sat,
But Willie's horse rade toomly.

When they were settled at that place, 45
The people fell a mourning;
And a council held amo' them a',
But sair, sair wept Kinmundy.

Then out it speaks the bride hersell,
Says, "What means a' this mourning? 50
Where is the man amo' them a',
That shou'd gie me fair wedding?"

Then out it speaks his brother John,
Says, "Meg, I'll tell you plainly;
The stream was strong, the clerk rade wrong, 55
And Willie's drown'd in Gamery."

She put her hand up to her head,
Where were the ribbons many;
She rave them a', let them down fa',
And straightway ran to Gamery. 60

She sought it up, she sought it down,
Till she was wet and weary;
And in the middle part o' it,
There she got her deary.

Then she stroak'd back his yellow hair, 65
And kiss'd his mou' sae comely;
"My mother's heart's be as wae as thine;
We'se baith asleep in the water o' Gamery."

ANNAN WATER.

_Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_, iii. 282.

"The following verses are the original words of the tune of _Allan Water_, by which name the song is mentioned in Ramsay's _Tea-Table Miscellany_. The ballad is given from tradition; and it is said that a bridge over the Annan, was built in consequence of the melancholy catastrophe which it narrates. Two verses are added in this edition, from another copy of the ballad, in which the conclusion proves fortunate. By the _Gatehope-Slack_, is perhaps meant the _Gate-Slack_, a pass in Annandale. The Annan, and the Frith of Solway, into which it falls, are the frequent scenes of tragical accidents. The Editor trusts he will be pardoned for inserting the following awfully impressive account of such an event, contained in a letter from Dr. Currie, of Liverpool, by whose correspondence, while in the course of preparing these volumes for the press, he has been alike honoured and instructed. After stating that he had some recollection of the ballad which follows, the biographer of Burns proceeds thus:--'I once in my early days heard (for it was night, and I could not see) a traveller drowning; not in the Annan itself, but in the Frith of Solway, close by the mouth of that river. The influx of the tide had unhorsed him, in the night, as he was passing the sands from Cumberland. The west wind blew a tempest, and, according to the common expression, brought in the water _three foot a-breast_. The traveller got upon a standing net, a little way from the shore. There he lashed himself to the post, shouting for half an hour for assistance--till the tide rose over his head! In the darkness of the night, and amid the pauses of the hurricane, his voice, heard at intervals, was exquisitely mournful. No one could go to his assistance--no one knew where he was--the sound seemed to proceed from the spirit of the waters. But morning rose--the tide had ebbed--and the poor traveller was found lashed to the pole of the net, and bleaching in the wind.'"

SCOTT.

"Annan water's wading deep,
And my love Annie's wondrous bonny;
And I am laith she suld weet her feet,
Because I love her best of ony.

"Gar saddle me the bonny black, 5
Gar saddle sune, and make him ready;
For I will down the Gatehope-Slack,
And all to see my bonny ladye."--

He has loupen on the bonny black,
He stirr'd him wi' the spur right sairly; 10
But, or he wan the Gatehope-Slack,
I think the steed was wae and weary.

He has loupen on the bonny grey,
He rade the right gate and the ready;
I trow he would neither stint nor stay, 15
For he was seeking his bonny ladye.

O he has ridden o'er field and fell,
Through muir and moss, and mony a mire:
His spurs o' steel were sair to bide,
And fra her fore-feet flew the fire. 20

"Now, bonny grey, now play your part!
Gin ye be the steed that wins my deary,
Wi' corn and hay ye'se be fed for aye,
And never spur sall make you wearie."--

The grey was a mare, and a right good mare; 25
But when she wan the Annan water,
She couldna hae ridden a furlong mair,
Had a thousand merks been wadded at her.

"O boatman, boatman, put off your boat!
Put off your boat for gowden money! 30
I cross the drumly stream the night,
Or never mair I see my honey."--

"O I was sworn sae late yestreen,
And not by ae aith, but by many;
And for a' the gowd in fair Scotland, 35
I dare na take ye through to Annie."

The side was stey, and the bottom deep,
Frae bank to brae the water pouring;
And the bonny grey mare did sweat for fear,
For she heard the water-kelpy roaring. 40

O he has pou'd aff his dapperby coat,
The silver buttons glanced bonny;
The waistcoat bursted aff his breast,
He was sae full of melancholy.

He has ta'en the ford at that stream tail; 45
I wot he swam both strong and steady;
But the stream was broad, and his strength did fail,
And he never saw his bonny ladye!

"O wae betide the frush saugh wand!
And wae betide the bush of brier! 50
It brake into my true love's hand,
When his strength did fail, and his limbs did tire.

"And wae betide ye, Annan Water,
This night that ye are a drumlie river!
For over thee I'll build a bridge, 55
That ye never more true love may sever."--

ANDREW LAMMIE.

"From a stall copy published at Glasgow several years ago, collated with a recited copy, which has furnished one or two verbal improvements." Motherwell's _Minstrelsy_, p. 239.

Mr. Jamieson has published two other sets of this simple, but touching ditty, (i. 126, ii. 382,) one of which is placed after the present. Motherwell's text is almost verbatim that of Buchan's _Gleanings_, p. 98. The _Thistle of Scotland_ copies Buchan and Jamieson without acknowledgment.

The story has been made the foundation of a rude drama in the North of Scotland. For a description of similar entertainments, see Cunningham's Introduction to his _Songs of Scotland_, i. 148.

The unfortunate maiden's name, according to Buchan, (_Gleanings_, p. 197,) "was Annie, or Agnes, (which are synonymous in some parts of Scotland,) Smith, who died of a broken heart on the 9th of January, 1631, as is to be found on a roughly cut stone, broken in many pieces, in the green churchyard of Fyvie." "What afterwards became of Bonny Andrew Lammie," says Jamieson, "we have not been able to learn; but the current tradition of the 'Lawland leas of Fyvie', says, that some years subsequent to the melancholy fate of poor Tifty's Nanny, her sad story being mentioned, and the ballad sung in a company in Edinburgh when he was present, he remained silent and motionless, till he was discovered by a groan suddenly bursting from him, and _several of the buttons flying from his waistcoat_."

At Mill o' Tifty liv'd a man,
In the neighbourhood of Fyvie;
He had a lovely daughter fair,
Was called bonny Annie.

Her bloom was like the springing flower 5
That salutes the rosy morning;
With innocence and graceful mien
Her beauteous form adorning.

Lord Fyvie had a trumpeter
Whose name was Andrew Lammie; 10
He had the art to gain the heart
Of Mill o' Tiftie's Annie.

Proper he was, both young and gay,
His like was not in Fyvie;
No one was there that could compare 15
With this same Andrew Lammie.

Lord Fyvie he rode by the door,
Where lived Tiftie's Annie;
His trumpeter rode him before,
Even this same Andrew Lammie. 20

Her mother call'd her to the door:
"Come here to me, my Annie;
Did you ever see a prettier man
Than this Trumpeter of Fyvie?"

She sighed sore, but said no more, 25
Alas, for bonny Annie!
She durst not own her heart was won
By the Trumpeter of Fyvie.

At night when they went to their beds,
All slept full sound but Annie; 30
Love so opprest her tender breast,
Thinking on Andrew Lammie.

"Love comes in at my bed side,
And love lies down beyond me;
Love has possess'd my tender breast, 35
And love will waste my body.

"The first time I and my love met
Was in the woods of Fyvie;
His lovely form and speech so sweet
Soon gain'd the heart of Annie. 40

"He called me mistress; I said, No,
I'm Tiftie's bonny Annie;
With apples sweet he did me treat,
And kisses soft and many.

"It's up and down in Tiftie's den, 45
Where the burn runs clear and bonny,
I've often gone to meet my love,
My bonny Andrew Lammie."

But now, alas! her father heard
That the Trumpeter of Fyvie 50
Had had the art to gain the heart
Of Tiftie's bonny Annie.

Her father soon a letter wrote,
And sent it on to Fyvie,
To tell his daughter was bewitch'd 55
By his servant Andrew Lammie.

When Lord Fyvie had this letter read,
O dear! but he was sorry;
The bonniest lass in Fyvie's land
Is bewitched by Andrew Lammie. 60

Then up the stair his trumpeter
He called soon and shortly:
"Pray tell me soon, what's this you've done
To Tiftie's bonny Annie?"

"In wicked art I had no part, 65
Nor therein am I canny;
True love alone the heart has won
Of Tiftie's bonny Annie.

"Woe betide Mill o' Tiftie's pride,
For it has ruin'd many; 70
He'll no ha'e 't said that she should wed
The Trumpeter of Fyvie.

"Where will I find a boy so kind,
That'll carry a letter canny,
Who will run on to Tiftie's town, 75
Give it to my love Annie?"

"Here you shall find a boy so kind,
Who'll carry a letter canny,
Who will run on to Tiftie's town,
And gi'e 't to thy love Annie." 80

"It's Tiftie he has daughters three,
Who all are wondrous bonny;
But ye'll ken her o'er a' the lave,
Gi'e that to bonny Annie."

"It's up and down in Tiftie's den, 85
Where the burn runs clear and bonny;
There wilt thou come and meet thy love,
Thy bonny Andrew Lammie.

"When wilt thou come, and I'll attend?
My love, I long to see thee." 90
"Thou may'st come to the bridge of Sleugh,
And there I'll come and meet thee."

"My love, I go to Edinbro',
And for a while must leave thee;"
She sighed sore, and said no more 95
But "I wish that I were wi' thee."

"I'll buy to thee a bridal gown,
My love, I'll buy it bonny;"
"But I'll be dead, ere ye come back
To see your bonnie Annie." 100

"If you'll be true and constant too,
As my name's Andrew Lammie,
I shall thee wed, when I come back
To see the lands of Fyvie."

"I will be true, and constant too, 105
To thee, my Andrew Lammie;
But my bridal bed will ere then be made,
In the green churchyard of Fyvie."

"Our time is gone, and now comes on,
My dear, that I must leave thee; 110
If longer here I should appear,
Mill o' Tiftie he would see me."

"I now for ever bid adieu
To thee, my Andrew Lammie;
Ere ye come back, I will be laid 115
In the green churchyard of Fyvie."

He hied him to the head of the house,
To the house top of Fyvie;
He blew his trumpet loud and schill;
'Twas heard at Mill o' Tiftie. 120

Her father lock'd the door at night,
Laid by the keys fu' canny;
And when he heard the trumpet sound,
Said, "Your cow is lowing, Annie."

"My father dear, I pray forbear, 125
And reproach no more your Annie;
For I'd rather hear that cow to low,
Than ha'e a' the kine in Fyvie.

"I would not, for my braw new gown,
And a' your gifts sae many, 130
That it were told in Fyvie's land
How cruel you are to Annie.

"But if ye strike me, I will cry,
And gentlemen will hear me;
Lord Fyvie will be riding by, 135
And he'll come in and see me."

At the same time, the Lord came in;
He said, "What ails thee, Annie?"
"'Tis all for love now I must die,
For bonny Andrew Lammie." 140

"Pray, Mill o' Tifty, gi'e consent,
And let your daughter marry."
"It will be with some higher match
Than the Trumpeter of Fyvie."

"If she were come of as high a kind 145
As she's adorned with beauty,
I would take her unto myself,
And make her mine own lady."

"It's Fyvie's lands are fair and wide,
And they are rich and bonny; 150
I would not leave my own true love,
For all the lands of Fyvie."

Her father struck her wondrous sore,
And also did her mother;
Her sisters always did her scorn; 155
But woe be to her brother!

Her brother struck her wondrous sore,
With cruel strokes and many;
He brake her back in the hall door,
For liking Andrew Lammie. 160

"Alas! my father and mother dear,
Why so cruel to your Annie?
My heart was broken first by love,
My brother has broken my body.

"O mother dear, make ye my bed, 165
And lay my face to Fyvie;
Thus will I ly, and thus will die,
For my love, Andrew Lammie!

"Ye neighbours, hear, both far and near;
Ye pity Tiftie's Annie, 170
Who dies for love of one poor lad,
For bonny Andrew Lammie.

"No kind of vice e'er stain'd my life,
Nor hurt my virgin honour;
My youthful heart was won by love, 175
But death will me exoner."

Her mother then she made her bed,
And laid her face to Fyvie;
Her tender heart it soon did break,
And ne'er saw Andrew Lammie. 180

But the word soon went up and down,
Through all the lands of Fyvie,
That she was dead and buried,
Even Tiftie's bonny Annie.

Lord Fyvie he did wring his hands, 185
Said, "Alas, for Tiftie's Annie!
The fairest flower's cut down by love,
That e'er sprung up in Fyvie.

"O woe betide Mill o' Tiftie's pride!
He might have let them marry; 190
I should have giv'n them both to live
Into the lands of Fyvie."

Her father sorely now laments
The loss of his dear Annie,
And wishes he had gi'en consent 195
To wed with Andrew Lammie.

Her mother grieves both air and late;
Her sisters, 'cause they scorn'd her;
Surely her brother doth mourn and grieve,
For the cruel usage he'd giv'n her. 200

But now, alas! it was too late,
For they could not recal her;
Through life, unhappy is their fate,
Because they did controul her.

When Andrew hame from Edinburgh came, 205
With meikle grief and sorrow,
"My love has died for me to-day,
I'll die for her to-morrow.

"Now I will on to Tiftie's den,
Where the burn runs clear and bonny; 210
With tears I'll view the bridge of Sleugh,[L211]
Where I parted last with Annie.

"Then will I speed to the churchyard,
To the green churchyard of Fyvie;
With tears I'll water my love's grave, 215
Till I follow Tiftie's Annie."

Ye parents grave, who children have,
In crushing them be canny,
Lest when too late you do repent;
Remember Tiftie's Annie. 220

211. "In one printed copy this is 'Sheugh', and in a recited copy it was called 'Skew'; which is the right reading, the editor, from his ignorance of the topography of the lands of Fyvie, is unable to say. It is a received superstition in Scotland, that, when friends or lovers part at a bridge, they shall never again meet." MOTHERWELL.

THE TRUMPETER OF FYVIE.

"The ballad was taken down by Dr. Leyden from the recitation of a young lady (Miss Robson) of Edinburgh, who learned it in Teviotdale. It was current in the Border counties within these few years, as it still is in the northeast of Scotland, where the scene is laid." Jamieson's _Popular Ballads_, i. 129.

At Fyvie's yetts there grows a flower,
It grows baith braid and bonny;
There's a daisie in the midst o' it,
And it's ca'd by Andrew Lammie.

"O gin that flower war in my breast, 5
For the love I bear the laddie;
I wad kiss it, and I wad clap it,
And daut it for Andrew Lammie.

"The first time me and my love met,
Was in the woods of Fyvie; 10
He kissed my lips five thousand times,
And ay he ca'd me bonny;
And a' the answer he gat frae me,
Was, My bonny Andrew Lammie!"

"'Love, I maun gang to Edinburgh; 15
Love, I maun gang and leave thee;'
I sighed right sair, and said nae mair,
But, O gin I were wi' ye!"

"But true and trusty will I be,
As I am Andrew Lammie; 20
I'll never kiss a woman's mouth,
Till I come back and see thee."

"And true and trusty will I be,
As I am Tiftie's Annie;
I'll never kiss a man again, 25
Till ye come back and see me."

Syne he's come back frae Edinburgh,
To the bonny hows o' Fyvie;
And ay his face to the nor-east,
To look for Tiftie's Annie. 30

"I ha'e a love in Edinburgh,
Sae ha'e I intill Leith, man;
I hae a love intill Montrose,
Sae ha'e I in Dalkeith, man.

"And east and west, where'er I go, 35
My love she's always wi' me;
For east and west, where'er I go,
My love she dwells in Fyvie.

"My love possesses a' my heart,
Nae pen can e'er indite her; 40
She's ay sae stately as she goes,
That I see nae mae like her.

"But Tiftie winna gi'e consent
His dochter me to marry,
Because she has five thousand marks, 45
And I have not a penny.

"Love pines away, love dwines away,
Love, love, decays the body;
For love o' thee, oh I must die;
Adieu, my bonny Annie!" 50

Her mither raise out o' her bed,
And ca'd on baith her women:
"What ails ye, Annie, my dochter dear?
O Annie, was ye dreamin'?

"What dule disturb'd my dochter's sleep? 55
O tell to me, my Annie!"
She sighed right sair, and said nae mair,
But, "O for Andrew Lammie!"

Her father beat her cruellie,
Sae also did her mother; 60
Her sisters sair did scoff at her;
But wae betide her brother!

Her brother beat her cruellie,
Till his straiks they werena canny;
He brak her back, and he beat her sides, 65
For the sake o' Andrew Lammie.

"O fie, O fie, my brother dear,
The gentlemen 'll shame ye;
The laird o' Fyvie he's gaun by,
And he'll come in and see me. 70

And he'll kiss me, and he'll clap me,
And he will speer what ails me;
And I will answer him again,
It's a' for Andrew Lammie."

Her sisters they stood in the door, 75
Sair griev'd her wi' their folly;
"O sister dear, come to the door,
Your cow is lowin on you."

"O fie, O fie, my sister dear,
Grieve me not wi' your folly; 80
I'd rather hear the trumpet sound,
Than a' the kye o' Fyvie.

"Love pines away, love dwines away,
Love, love decays the body;
For love o' thee now I maun die-- 85
Adieu to Andrew Lammie!"

But Tiftie's wrote a braid letter,
And sent it into Fyvie,
Saying, his daughter was bewitch'd
By bonny Andrew Lammie. 90

"Now, Tiftie, ye maun gi'e consent,
And lat the lassie marry."
"I'll never, never gi'e consent
To the Trumpeter of Fyvie."

When Fyvie looked the letter on, 95
He was baith sad and sorry:
Says--"The bonniest lass o' the country-side
Has died for Andrew Lammie."

O Andrew's gane to the house-top
O' the bonny house o' Fyvie; 100
He's blawn his horn baith loud and shill
O'er the lawland leas o' Fyvie.

"Mony a time ha'e I walk'd a' night,
And never yet was weary;
But now I may walk wae my lane, 105
For I'll never see my deary.

"Love pines away, love dwines away,
Love, love, decays the body:
For the love o' thee, now I maun die--
I come, my bonny Annie!" 110

FAIR HELEN OF KIRCONNELL.

"The following very popular ballad has been handed down by tradition in its present imperfect state. The affecting incident on which it is founded is well known. A lady, of the name of Helen Irving, or Bell, (for this is disputed by the two clans,) daughter of the Laird of Kirconnell, in Dumfries-shire, and celebrated for her beauty, was beloved by two gentlemen in the neighbourhood. The name of the favoured suitor was Adam Fleming of Kirkpatrick; that of the other has escaped tradition: though it has been alleged that he was a Bell, of Blacket House. The addresses of the latter were, however, favoured by the friends of the lady, and the lovers were therefore obliged to meet in secret, and by night, in the churchyard of Kirconnell, a romantic spot, almost surrounded by the river Kirtle. During one of these private interviews, the jealous and despised lover suddenly appeared on the opposite bank of the stream, and levelled his carabine at the breast of his rival. Helen threw herself before her lover, received in her bosom the bullet, and died in his arms. A desperate and mortal combat ensued between Fleming and the murderer, in which the latter was cut to pieces. Other accounts say, that Fleming pursued his enemy to Spain, and slew him in the streets of Madrid.

"The ballad, as now published, consists of two parts. The first seems to be an address, either by Fleming or his rival, to the lady; if, indeed, it constituted any portion of the original poem. For the Editor cannot help suspecting, that these verses have been the production of a different and inferior bard, and only adapted to the original measure and tune. But this suspicion being unwarranted by any copy he has been able to procure, he does not venture to do more than intimate his own opinion. The second part, by far the most beautiful, and which is unquestionably original, forms the lament of Fleming over the grave of fair Helen.

"The ballad is here given, without alteration or improvement, from the most accurate copy which could be recovered. The fate of Helen has not, however, remained unsung by modern bards. A lament, of great poetical merit, by the learned historian, Mr. Pinkerton, with several other poems on this subject, have been printed in various forms.[B]

"The grave of the lovers is yet shown in the churchyard of Kirconnell, near Springkell. Upon the tombstone can still be read--_Hic jacet Adamus Fleming_; a cross and sword are sculptured on the stone. The former is called by the country people, the gun with which Helen was murdered; and the latter the avenging sword of her lover. _Sit illis terra levis!_ A heap of stones is raised on the spot where the murder was committed; a token of abhorrence common to most nations." _Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_, iii. 98.

[B] For Pinkerton's elegy, see his _Select Scottish Ballads_, i.
109; for Mayne's, the _Gentleman's Magazine_, vol. 86, Part ii. 64.
Jamieson has enfeebled the story in _Popular Ballads_, i. 205, and
Wordsworth's _Ellen Irwin_ hardly deserves more praise. ED.

Versions of the Second Part, (which alone deserves notice,) nearly agreeing with Scott's, are given in the Illustrations to the new edition of Johnson's _Museum_, p. 143, by Mr. Stenhouse, p. 210, by Mr. Sharpe. Inferior and fragmentary ones in Herd's _Scottish Songs_, i. 257; Johnson's _Museum_, 163; Ritson's _Scottish Song_, i. 145; Jamieson's _Popular Ballads_, i. 203.

FAIR HELEN.

PART FIRST.

O! sweetest sweet, and fairest fair,
Of birth and worth beyond compare,
Thou art the causer of my care,
Since first I loved thee.

Yet God hath given to me a mind, 5
The which to thee shall prove as kind
As any one that thou shalt find,
Of high or low degree.

The shallowest water makes maist din,
The deadest pool the deepest linn; 10
The richest man least truth within,
Though he preferred be.

Yet, nevertheless, I am content,
And never a whit my love repent,
But think the time was a' weel spent, 15
Though I disdained be.

O! Helen sweet, and maist complete,
My captive spirit's at thy feet!
Thinks thou still fit thus for to treat
Thy captive cruelly? 20

O! Helen brave! but this I crave,
Of thy poor slave some pity have,
And do him save that's near his grave,
And dies for love of thee.

FAIR HELEN.

PART SECOND.

I wish I were where Helen lies,
Night and day on me she cries;
O that I were where Helen lies,
On fair Kirconnell Lee!

Curst be the heart that thought the thought, 5
And curst the hand that fired the shot,
When in my arms burd Helen dropt,
And died to succour me!

O think na ye my heart was sair,
When my love dropt down and spak nae mair! 10
There did she swoon wi' meikle care,
On fair Kirconnell Lee.

As I went down the water side,
None but my foe to be my guide,
None but my foe to be my guide, 15
On fair Kirconnell Lee;

I lighted down my sword to draw,
I hacked him in pieces sma',
I hacked him in pieces sma',
For her sake that died for me. 20

O Helen fair, beyond compare!
I'll make a garland of thy hair,
Shall bind my heart for evermair,
Until the day I die.

O that I were where Helen lies! 25
Night and day on me she cries;
Out of my bed she bids me rise,
Says, "Haste and come to me!"--

O Helen fair! O Helen chaste!
If I were with thee, I were blest, 30
Where thou lies low, and takes thy rest,
On fair Kirconnell Lee.

I wish my grave were growing green,
A winding-sheet drawn ower my een,
And I in Helen's arms lying, 35
On fair Kirconnell Lee.

I wish I were where Helen lies!
Night and day on me she cries;
And I am weary of the skies,
For her sake that died for me. 40

THE LOWLANDS OF HOLLAND.

Mr. Stenhouse was informed that this ballad was composed, about the beginning of the last century, by a young widow in Galloway, whose husband was drowned on a voyage to Holland. (_Musical Museum_, ed. 1853, iv. 115.) But some of the verses appear to be old, and one stanza will be remarked to be of common occurrence in ballad poetry.

A fragment of this piece was published in Herd's collection, (ii. 49.) Our copy is from Johnson's _Museum_, p. 118, with the omission, however, of one spurious and absurd stanza, while another, not printed by Johnson, is supplied from the note above cited to the new edition. Cunningham makes sense of the interpolated verses and retains them; otherwise his version is nearly the same as the present. (_Songs of Scotland_, ii. 181.)

"The love that I have chosen,
I'll therewith be content,
The saut sea shall be frozen
Before that I repent;
Repent it shall I never, 5
Until the day I die,
But the lowlands of Holland
Hae twinn'd my love and me.

"My love lies in the saut sea,
And I am on the side, 10
Enough to break a young thing's heart,
Wha lately was a bride;
Wha lately was a bonnie bride,
And pleasure in her e'e,
But the lowlands of Holland 15
Hae twinn'd my love and me.

"My love he built a bonnie ship,
And set her to the sea,
Wi' seven score brave mariners
To bear her companie; 20
Threescore gaed to the bottom,
And threescore died at sea,
And the lowlands of Holland
Hae twinn'd my love and me.

"My love has built another ship 25
And set her to the main;
He had but twenty mariners,
And all to bring her hame;
The stormy winds did roar again,
The raging waves did rout, 30
And my love and his bonnie ship
Turn'd widdershins about.

"There shall nae mantle cross my back,[L33]
Nor kame gae in my hair,
Neither shall coal nor candle light 35
Shine in my bower mair;
Nor shall I chuse anither love,
Until the day I die,
Since the lowlands of Holland
Hae twinn'd my love and me." 40

"O haud your tongue, my daughter dear,
Be still, and be content;
There are mair lads in Galloway,
Ye need nae sair lament."
"O there is nane in Galloway,[L45] 45
There's nane at a' for me;
For I never loved a lad but ane,
And he's drowned in the sea."

33-36, 45-48. With the conclusion of this piece may be compared a passage from _Bonny Bee-Ho'm_, vol. iii. p. 57.

"Ohon, alas! what shall I do,
Tormented night and day!
I never loved a love but ane,
And now he's gone away.

"But I will do for my true love
What ladies would think sair;
For seven years shall come and gae,
Ere a kaime gae in my hair.

"There shall neither a shoe gae on my foot,
Nor a kaime gae in my hair,
Nor ever a coal or candle light
Shine in my bower nae mair."

See also _The Weary Coble o' Cargill_.