Chapter IX: Book III: The Twa Brothers (2)

He's killed this may and he's laid her by,
_Eh vow bonnie_,
For to bear the red rose company,
_On the bonnie banks o' Fordie_. 40

He's taken the youngest ane by the hand,
_Eh vow bonnie_,
And he's turned her round and made her stand,
_On the bonnie banks o' Fordie_.

Says, "Will ye be a rank robber's wife, 45
_Eh vow bonnie_,
Or will ye die by my wee penknife,"
_On the bonnie banks o' Fordie_?

"I'll not be a rank robber's wife,
_Eh vow bonnie_, 50
Nor will I die by your wee penknife,
_On the bonnie banks o' Fordie_.

"For I hae a brother in this wood,
_Eh vow bonnie_,
And gin ye kill me, it's he'll kill thee," 55
_On the bonnie banks o' Fordie_.

"What's thy brother's name? come tell to me,"
_Eh vow bonnie_;
"My brother's name is Babylon,"
_On the bonnie banks o' Fordie_. 60

"O sister, sister, what have I done,
_Eh vow bonnie_?
O have I done this ill to thee,
_On the bonnie banks o' Fordie_?

"O since I've done this evil deed, 65
_Eh vow bonnie_,
Good sall never be seen o' me,"
_On the bonnie banks o' Fordie_.

He's taken out his wee penknife,
_Eh vow bonnie_, 70
And he's twyned himsel o' his ain sweet life,
_On the bonnie banks o' Fordie_.

DUKE OF PERTH'S THREE DAUGHTERS.

From Kinloch's _Ancient Scottish Ballads_, p. 212.

The Duke o' Perth had three daughters,
Elizabeth, Margaret, and fair Marie;
And Elizabeth's to the greenwud gane,
To pu' the rose and the fair lilie.

But she hadna pu'd a rose, a rose, 5
A double rose, but barely three,
Whan up and started a Loudon lord,
Wi' Loudon hose, and Loudon sheen.

"Will ye be called a robber's wife?
Or will ye be stickit wi' my bloody knife? 10
For pu'in the rose and the fair lilie,
For pu'in them sae fair and free."

"Before I'll be called a robber's wife,
I'll rather be stickit wi' your bloody knife,
For pu'in the rose and the fair lilie, 15
For pu'in them sae fair and free."

Then out he's tane his little penknife,
And he's parted her and her sweet life,
And thrown her o'er a bank o' brume,
There never more for to be found. 20

The Duke o' Perth had three daughters,
Elizabeth, Margaret, and fair Marie;
And Margaret's to the greenwud gane,
To pu' the rose and the fair lilie.

She hadna pu'd a rose, a rose, 25
A double rose, but barely three,
When up and started a Loudon lord,
Wi' Loudon hose, and Loudon sheen.

"Will ye be called a robber's wife?
Or will ye be stickit wi' my bloody knife? 30
For pu'in the rose and the fair lilie,
For pu'in them sae fair and free."

"Before I'll be called a robber's wife,
I'll rather be sticket wi' your bloody knife,
For pu'in the rose and the fair lilie, 35
For pu'in them sae fair and free."

Then out he's tane his little penknife,
And he's parted her and her sweet life,
For pu'in the rose and the fair lilie,
For pu'in them sae fair and free. 40

The Duke o' Perth had three daughters,
Elizabeth, Margaret, and fair Marie;
And Mary's to the greenwud gane,
To pu' the rose and the fair lilie.

She hadna pu'd a rose, a rose, 45
A double rose, but barely three,
When up and started a Loudon lord,
Wi' Loudon hose, and Loudon sheen.

"O will ye be called a robber's wife?
Or will ye be stickit wi' my bloody knife? 50
For pu'in the rose and the fair lilie,
For pu'in them sae fair and free."

"Before I'll be called a robber's wife,
I'll rather be stickit wi' your bloody knife,
For pu'in the rose and the fair lilie, 55
For pu'in them sae fair and free."

But just as he took out his knife,
To tak frae her her ain sweet life,
Her brother John cam ryding bye,
And this bloody robber he did espy. 60

But when he saw his sister fair,
He kenn'd her by her yellow hair;
He call'd upon his pages three,
To find this robber speedilie.

"My sisters twa that are dead and gane, 65
For whom we made a heavy maene,
It's you that's twinn'd them o' their life,
And wi' your cruel bloody knife.

Then for their life ye sair shall dree:
Ye sall be hangit on a tree, 70
Or thrown into the poison'd lake,
To feed the toads and rattle-snake."

JELLON GRAME.

From _Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_, iii. 162.

"This ballad is published from tradition, with some conjectural emendations. It is corrected by a copy in Mrs. Brown's MS., from which it differs in the concluding stanzas. Some verses are apparently modernized.

"_Jellon_ seems to be the same name with _Jyllian_, or _Julian_. 'Jyl of Brentford's Testament' is mentioned in Warton's _History of Poetry_, vol. ii. p. 40. The name repeatedly occurs in old ballads, sometimes as that of a man, at other times as that of a woman. Of the former is an instance in the ballad of _The Knight and the Shepherd's Daughter_. [See this collection, vol. iii. p. 253.]

'Some do call me Jack, sweetheart,
And some do call me _Jille_.'

"Witton Gilbert, a village four miles west of Durham, is, throughout the bishopric, pronounced Witton Jilbert. We have also the common name of Giles, always in Scotland pronounced Jill. For Gille, or Juliana, as a female name, we have _Fair Gillian_ of Croyden, and a thousand authorities. Such being the case, the Editor must enter his protest against the conversion of _Gil_ Morrice into _Child_ Maurice, an epithet of chivalry. All the circumstances in that ballad argue, that the unfortunate hero was an obscure and very young man, who had never received the honour of knighthood. At any rate there can be no reason, even were internal evidence totally wanting, for altering a well-known proper name, which, till of late years, has been the uniform title of the ballad." SCOTT.

_May-a-Row_, in Buchan's larger collection, ii. 231, is another, but an inferior, version of this ballad.

O Jellon Grame sat in Silverwood,[L1]
He sharp'd his broadsword lang;
And he has call'd his little foot-page
An errand for to gang.

"Win up, my bonny boy," he says, 5
"As quickly as ye may;
For ye maun gang for Lillie Flower
Before the break of day."--

The boy has buckled his belt about,
And through the green-wood ran; 10
And he came to the ladye's bower
Before the day did dawn.

"O sleep ye, wake ye, Lillie Flower?
The red sun's on the rain:
Ye're bidden come to Silverwood, 15
But I doubt ye'll never win hame."--

She hadna ridden a mile, a mile,
A mile but barely three,
Ere she came to a new-made grave,
Beneath a green aik tree. 20

O then up started Jellon Grame,
Out of a bush thereby;
"Light down, light down, now, Lillie Flower,
For it's here that ye maun lye."--

She lighted aff her milk-white steed, 25
And kneel'd upon her knee;
"O mercy, mercy, Jellon Grame,
For I'm no prepared to die!

"Your bairn, that stirs between my sides,
Maun shortly see the light: 30
But to see it weltering in my blood,
Would be a piteous sight."--

"O should I spare your life," he says,
"Until that bairn were born,
Full weel I ken your auld father 35
Would hang me on the morn."--

"O spare my life, now, Jellon Grame!
My father ye needna dread:
I'll keep my babe in gude green-wood,
Or wi' it I'll beg my bread."-- 40

He took no pity on Lillie Flower,
Though she for life did pray;
But pierced her through the fair body
As at his feet she lay.

He felt nae pity for Lillie Flower, 45
Where she was lying dead;
But he felt some for the bonny bairn,
That lay weltering in her bluid.

Up has he ta'en that bonny boy,
Given him to nurses nine; 50
Three to sleep, and three to wake,
And three to go between.

And he bred up that bonny boy,
Call'd him his sister's son;
And he thought no eye could ever see 55
The deed that he had done.

O so it fell upon a day,
When hunting they might be,
They rested them in Silverwood,
Beneath that green aik tree. 60

And many were the green-wood flowers
Upon the grave that grew,
And marvell'd much that bonny boy
To see their lovely hue.

"What's paler than the prymrose wan? 65
What's redder than the rose?
What's fairer than the lilye flower
On this wee know that grows?"--

O out and answer'd Jellon Grame,
And he spak hastilie-- 70
"Your mother was a fairer flower,
And lies beneath this tree.

"More pale she was, when she sought my grace,
Than prymrose pale and wan;
And redder than rose her ruddy heart's blood, 75
That down my broadsword ran."--

Wi' that the boy has bent his bow,
It was baith stout and lang;
An thro' and thro' him, Jellon Grame,
He gar'd an arrow gang. 80

Says,--"Lie ye there, now, Jellon Grame!
My malisoun gang you wi'!
The place that my mother lies buried in
Is far too good for thee."

1. Silverwood, mentioned in this ballad, occurs in a medley MS. song, which seems to have been copied from the first edition of the Aberdeen Cantus, _penes_ John G. Dalyell, Esq. advocate. One line only is cited, apparently the beginning of some song:--

"Silverwood, gin ye were mine." SCOTT.

YOUNG JOHNSTONE.

A fragment of this fine ballad (which is commonly called _The Cruel Knight_) was published by Herd, (i. 222,) and also by Pinkerton, (_Select Scottish Ballads_, i. 69,) with variations. Finlay constructed a nearly complete edition from two recited copies, but suppressed some lines. (_Scottish Ballads_, ii. 72.) The present copy is one which Motherwell obtained from recitation, with a few verbal emendations by that editor from Finlay's.

With respect to the sudden and strange catastrophe, Motherwell remarks:--

"The reciters of old ballads frequently supply the best commentaries upon them, when any obscurity or want of connection appears in the poetical narrative. This ballad, as it stands, throws no light on young Johnstone's motive for stabbing his lady; but the person from whose lips it was taken down alleged that the barbarous act was committed unwittingly, through young Johnstone's suddenly waking from sleep, and, in that moment of confusion and alarm, unhappily mistaking his mistress for one of his pursuers. It is not improbable but the ballad may have had, at one time, a stanza to the above effect, the substance of which is still remembered, though the words in which it was couched have been forgotten." _Minstrelsy_, p. 193.

Buchan's version, (_Lord John's Murder_, ii. 20,) it will be seen, supplies this deficiency.

Young Johnstone and the young Col'nel
Sat drinking at the wine:
"O gin ye wad marry my sister,
It's I wad marry thine."

"I wadna marry your sister, 5
For a' your houses and land;
But I'll keep her for my leman,
When I come o'er the strand.

"I wadna marry your sister,
For a' your gowd so gay; 10
But I'll keep her for my leman,
When I come by the way."

Young Johnstone had a nut-brown sword,
Hung low down by his gair,
And he ritted[L15] it through the young Col'nel, 15
That word he ne'er spak mair.

But he's awa' to his sister's bower,
He's tirled at the pin:
"Whare hae ye been, my dear brither,
Sae late a coming in?" 20
"I hae been at the school, sister,
Learning young clerks to sing."

"I've dreamed a dreary dream this night,
I wish it may be for good;
They were seeking you with hawks and hounds, 25
And the young Col'nel was dead."

"Hawks and hounds they may seek me,
As I trow well they be;
For I have killed the young Col'nel,
And thy own true love was he." 30

"If ye hae killed the young Col'nel,
O dule and wae is me;
But I wish ye may be hanged on a hie gallows,
And hae nae power to flee."

And he's awa' to his true love's bower, 35
He's tirled at the pin:
"Whar hae ye been, my dear Johnstone,
Sae late a coming in?"
"It's I hae been at the school," he says,
"Learning young clerks to sing." 40

"I have dreamed a dreary dream," she says,
"I wish it may be for good;
They were seeking you with hawks and hounds,
And the young Col'nel was dead."

"Hawks and hounds they may seek me, 45
As I trow well they be;
For I hae killed the young Col'nel,
And thy ae brother was he."

"If ye hae killed the young Col'nel,
O dule and wae is me; 50
But I care the less for the young Col'nel,
If thy ain body be free.

"Come in, come in, my dear Johnstone,
Come in and take a sleep;
And I will go to my casement, 55
And carefully I will thee keep."

He had not weel been in her bower door,
No not for half an hour,
When four-and-twenty belted knights
Came riding to the bower. 60

"Well may you sit and see, Lady,
Well may you sit and say;
Did you not see a bloody squire
Come riding by this way?"

"What colour were his hawks?" she says, 65
"What colour were his hounds?
What colour was the gallant steed
That bore him from the bounds?"

"Bloody, bloody were his hawks,
And bloody were his hounds; 70
But milk-white was the gallant steed
That bore him from the bounds."

"Yes, bloody, bloody were his hawks,
And bloody were his hounds;
And milk-white was the gallant steed 75
That bore him from the bounds.

"Light down, light down now, gentlemen,
And take some bread and wine;
And the steed be swift that he rides on,
He's past the brig o' Lyne." 80

"We thank you for your bread, fair Lady,
We thank you for your wine;
But I wad gie thrice three thousand pound,
That bloody knight was ta'en."

"Lie still, lie still, my dear Johnstone, 85
Lie still and take a sleep;
For thy enemies are past and gone,
And carefully I will thee keep."

But young Johnstone had a little wee sword,
Hung low down by his gair, 90
And he stabbed it in fair Annet's breast,
A deep wound and a sair.

"What aileth thee now, dear Johnstone?
What aileth thee at me?
Hast thou not got my father's gold, 95
Bot and my mither's fee?"[L96]

"Now live, now live, my dear Ladye,
Now live but half an hour,
And there's no a leech in a' Scotland
But shall be in thy bower." 100

"How can I live, how shall I live?
Young Johnstone, do not you see
The red, red drops o' my bonny heart's blood
Rin trinkling down my knee?

"But take thy harp into thy hand, 105
And harp out owre yon plain,
And ne'er think mair on thy true love
Than if she had never been."

He hadna weel been out o' the stable,
And on his saddle set, 110
Till four-and-twenty broad arrows
Were thrilling in his heart.

15. In the copy obtained by the Editor, the word "ritted" did not occur, instead of which the word "stabbed" was used. The "nut-brown sword" was also changed into "a little small sword." MOTHERWELL.

96. Buchan's version furnishes the necessary explanation of Young Johnstone's apparent cruelty:--

"Ohon, alas, my lady gay,
To come sae hastili['e]!
I thought it was my deadly foe,
Ye had trysted in to me."

YOUNG BENJIE.

From the _Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_, iii. 10. _Bondsey and Maisry_, another version of the same story, from Buchan's collection, is given in the Appendix.

"In this ballad the reader will find traces of a singular superstition, not yet altogether discredited in the wilder parts of Scotland. The lykewake, or watching a dead body, in itself a melancholy office, is rendered, in the idea of the assistants, more dismally awful, by the mysterious horrors of superstition. In the interval betwixt death and interment, the disembodied spirit is supposed to hover round its mortal habitation, and, if invoked by certain rites, retains the power of communicating, through its organs, the cause of its dissolution. Such inquiries, however, are always dangerous, and never to be resorted to, unless the deceased is suspected to have suffered _foul play_, as it is called. It is the more unsafe to tamper with this charm in an unauthorized manner, because the inhabitants of the infernal regions are, at such periods, peculiarly active. One of the most potent ceremonies in the charm, for causing the dead body to speak, is, setting the door ajar, or half open. On this account, the peasants of Scotland sedulously avoid leaving the door ajar, while a corpse lies in the house. The door must either be left wide open, or quite shut; but the first is always preferred, on account of the exercise of hospitality usual on such occasions. The attendants must be likewise careful never to leave the corpse for a moment alone, or, if it is left alone, to avoid, with a degree of superstitious horror, the first sight of it.

"The following story, which is frequently related by the peasants of Scotland, will illustrate the imaginary danger of leaving the door ajar. In former times, a man and his wife lived in a solitary cottage, on one of the extensive Border fells. One day the husband died suddenly; and his wife, who was equally afraid of staying alone by the corpse, or leaving the dead body by itself, repeatedly went to the door, and looked anxiously over the lonely moor for the sight of some person approaching. In her confusion and alarm she accidentally left the door ajar, when the corpse suddenly started up, and sat in the bed, frowning and grinning at her frightfully. She sat alone, crying bitterly, unable to avoid the fascination of the dead man's eye, and too much terrified to break the sullen silence, till a Catholic priest, passing over the wild, entered the cottage. He first set the door quite open, then put his little finger in his mouth, and said the paternoster backwards; when the horrid look of the corpse relaxed, it fell back on the bed, and behaved itself as a dead man ought to do.

"The ballad is given from tradition. I have been informed by a lady, [Miss Joanna Baillie,] of the highest literary eminence, that she has heard a ballad on the same subject, in which the scene was laid upon the banks of the Clyde. The chorus was,

"O Bothwell banks bloom bonny,"

and the watching of the dead corpse was said to have taken place in Bothwell church." SCOTT.

Of a' the maids o' fair Scotland,
The fairest was Marjorie;
And young Benjie was her ae true love,
And a dear true love was he.

And wow but they were lovers dear, 5
And loved fu' constantlie;
But aye the mair when they fell out,
The sairer was their plea.

And they hae quarrell'd on a day,
Till Marjorie's heart grew wae; 10
And she said she'd chuse another luve,
And let young Benjie gae.

And he was stout, and proud-hearted,
And thought o't bitterlie;
And he's gane by the wan moonlight, 15
To meet his Marjorie.

"O open, open, my true love,
O open, and let me in!"--
"I darena open, young Benjie,
My three brothers are within."-- 20

"Ye lied, ye lied, ye bonny burd,
Sae loud's I hear ye lie;
As I came by the Lowden banks,
They bade gude e'en to me.

"But fare ye weel, my ae fause love, 25
That I have loved sae lang!
It sets ye chuse another love,
And let young Benjie gang."--

Then Marjorie turn'd her round about,
The tear blinding her ee,-- 30
"I darena, darena let thee in,
But I'll come down to thee."--

Then saft she smiled, and said to him,
"O what ill hae I done?"--
He took her in his armis twa, 35
And threw her o'er the linn.

The stream was strang, the maid was stout,
And laith, laith to be dang,
But, ere she wan the Lowden banks,
Her fair colour was wan. 40

Then up bespak her eldest brother,
"O see na ye what I see?"--
And out then spak her second brother,
"It's our sister Marjorie!"--

Out then spak her eldest brother, 45
"O how shall we her ken?"--
And out then spak her youngest brother,
"There's a honey mark on her chin."--

Then they've ta'en up the comely corpse,
And laid it on the ground: 50
"O wha has killed our ae sister,
And how can he be found?

"The night it is her low lykewake,
The morn her burial day,
And we maun watch at mirk midnight, 55
And hear what she will say."--

Wi' doors ajar, and candle light,
And torches burning clear,
The streikit corpse, till still midnight,
They waked, but naething hear. 60

About the middle o' the night,
The cocks began to craw;
And at the dead hour o' the night,
The corpse began to thraw.

"O whae has done the wrang, sister, 65
Or dared the deadly sin?
Whae was sae stout, and fear'd nae dout,
As thraw ye o'er the linn?"

"Young Benjie was the first ae man
I laid my love upon; 70
He was sae stout and proud-hearted,
He threw me o'er the linn."--

"Sall we young Benjie head, sister,
Sall we young Benjie hang,
Or sall we pike out his twa gray een, 75
And punish him ere he gang?"

"Ye maunna Benjie head, brothers,
Ye maunna Benjie hang,
But ye maun pike out his twa gray een,
And punish him ere he gang. 80

"Tie a green gravat round his neck,
And lead him out and in,
And the best ae servant about your house
To wait young Benjie on.

"And aye, at every seven years' end, 85
Ye'l tak him to the linn;
For that's the penance he maun dree,
To scug his deadly sin."