Chapter IV: Book III: Continued (2)

"The hero of the ballad was a knight of great bravery, called Scott, who is said to have resided at Kirkhope, or Oakwood Castle, and is, in tradition, termed the Baron of Oakwood. The estate of Kirkhope belonged anciently to the Scotts of Harden: Oakwood is still their property, and has been so from time immemorial. The Editor was, therefore, led to suppose that the hero of the ballad might have been identified with John Scott, sixth son of the Laird of Harden, murdered in Ettrick Forest by his kinsmen, the Scotts of Gilmanscleugh. (See notes to _Jamie Telfer_.) This appeared the more probable, as the common people always affirm that this young man was treacherously slain, and that, in evidence thereof, his body remained uncorrupted for many years; so that even the roses on his shoes seemed as fresh as when he was first laid in the family vault at Hassendean. But from a passage in Nisbet's Heraldry, he now believes the ballad refers to a duel fought at Deucharswyre, of which Annan's Treat is a part, betwixt John Scott of Tushielaw and his brother-in-law, Walter Scott, third son of Robert of Thirlestane, in which the latter was slain.

"In ploughing Annan's Treat, a huge monumental stone, with an inscription, was discovered; but being rather scratched than engraved, and the lines being run through each other, it is only possible to read one or two Latin words. It probably records the event of the combat. The person slain was the male ancestor of the present Lord Napier.

"Tradition affirms, that the hero of the song (be he who he may) was murdered by the brother, either of his wife or betrothed bride. The alleged cause of malice was the lady's father having proposed to endow her with half of his property, upon her marriage with a warrior of such renown. The name of the murderer is said to have been Annan, and the place of combat is still called Annan's Treat. It is a low muir, on the banks of the Yarrow, lying to the west of Yarrow Kirk. Two tall unhewn masses of stone are erected, about eighty yards distant from each other; and the least child, that can herd a cow, will tell the passenger, that there lie 'the two lords, who were slain in single combat.'

"It will be, with many readers, the greatest recommendation of these verses, that they are supposed to have suggested to Mr. Hamilton of Bangour, the modern ballad, beginning,

'Busk ye, busk ye, my bonny bonny bride.'

"A fragment, apparently regarding the story of the following ballad, but in a different measure, occurs in Mr. Herd's MS., and runs thus:--

'When I look east, my heart is sair,
But when I look west, it's mair and mair;
For then I see the braes o' Yarrow,
And there, for aye, I lost my marrow.'"

We have added an uncollated copy from Buchan's _Ballads of the North of Scotland_. Another is furnished by Motherwell, _Minstrelsy_, p. 252. Some of Scott's verses are also found in Herd's fragment, (_Scottish Songs_, i. 202,) and Buchan's _Haughs o' Yarrow_, ii. 211. _The Dowy Den_, in Evans's collection, iii. 342, is the _caput mortuum_ of this spirited ballad.

Late at e'en, drinking the wine,
And ere they paid the lawing,
They set a combat them between,
To fight it in the dawing.

"O stay at hame, my noble lord, 5
O stay at hame, my marrow!
My cruel brother will you betray
On the dowie houms of Yarrow."--

"O fare ye weel, my ladye gaye!
O fare ye weel, my Sarah! 10
For I maun gae, though I ne'er return
Frae the dowie banks o' Yarrow."

She kiss'd his cheek, she kaim'd his hair,
As oft she had done before, O;
She belted him with his noble brand, 15
And he's away to Yarrow.

As he gaed up the Tennies bank,[L17]
I wot he gaed wi' sorrow,
Till, down in a den, he spied nine arm'd men,
On the dowie houms of Yarrow. 20

"O come ye here to part your land,
The bonnie Forest thorough?
Or come ye here to wield your brand,
On the dowie houms of Yarrow?"--

"I come not here to part my land, 25
And neither to beg nor borrow;
I come to wield my noble brand,
On the bonnie banks of Yarrow.

"If I see all, ye're nine to ane;
And that's an unequal marrow; 30
Yet will I fight, while lasts my brand,
On the bonnie banks of Yarrow."

Four has he hurt, and five has slain,
On the bloody braes of Yarrow,
Till that stubborn knight came him behind, 35
And ran his body thorough.

"Gae hame, gae hame, good-brother John,
And tell your sister Sarah,
To come and lift her leafu' lord;
He's sleepin sound on Yarrow."-- 40

"Yestreen I dream'd a dolefu' dream;
I fear there will be sorrow!
I dream'd I pu'd the heather green,
Wi' my true love, on Yarrow.

"O gentle wind, that bloweth south, 45
From where my love repaireth,
Convey a kiss from his dear mouth,
And tell me how he fareth!

"But in the glen strive armed men;
They've wrought me dole and sorrow; 50
They've slain--the comeliest knight they've slain--
He bleeding lies on Yarrow."

As she sped down yon high high hill,
She gaed wi' dole and sorrow,
And in the den spied ten slain men, 55
On the dowie banks of Yarrow.

She kissed his cheek, she kaim'd his hair,
She searched his wounds all thorough,
She kiss'd them, till her lips grew red,
On the dowie houms of Yarrow. 60

"Now haud your tongue, my daughter dear!
For a' this breeds but sorrow;
I'll wed ye to a better lord,
Than him ye lost on Yarrow."--

"O haud your tongue, my father dear! 65
Ye mind me but of sorrow;
A fairer rose did never bloom
Than now lies cropp'd on Yarrow."

17. _The Tennies_ is the name of a farm of the Duke of Buccleuch's, a little below Yarrow Kirk.

THE BRAES O' YARROW.

From Buchan's _Ballads of the North of Scotland_, ii. 203. Repeated in the xviith volume of the Percy Society Publications.

Ten lords sat drinking at the wine,
Intill a morning early;
There fell a combat them among,
It must be fought,--nae parly.

"O stay at hame, my ain gude lord, 5
O stay, my ain dear marrow."
"Sweetest min', I will be thine,
And dine wi' you to-morrow."

She's kiss'd his lips, and comb'd his hair,
As she had done before, O; 10
Gied him a brand down by his side,
And he is on to Yarrow.

As he gaed ower yon dowie knowe,
As aft he'd dune before, O;
Nine armed men lay in a den, 15
Upo' the braes o' Yarrow.

"O came ye here to hunt or hawk,
As ye hae dune before, O?
Or came ye here to wiel' your brand,
Upo' the braes o' Yarrow?" 20

"I came na here to hunt nor hawk,
As I hae dune before, O;
But I came here to wiel' my brand,
Upon the braes o' Yarrow."

Four he hurt, and five he slew, 25
Till down it fell himsell, O;
There stood a fause lord him behin',
Who thrust him thro' body and mell, O.

"Gae hame, gae hame, my brother John,
And tell your sister sorrow; 30
Your mother to come take up her son,
Aff o' the braes o' Yarrow."

As he gaed ower yon high, high hill,
As he had dune before, O;
There he met his sister dear, 35
Came rinnin fast to Yarrow.

"I dreamt a dream last night," she says,
"I wish it binna sorrow;
I dreamt I was pu'ing the heather green,[L39]
Upo' the braes o' Yarrow." 40

"I'll read your dream, sister," he says,
"I'll read it into sorrow;
Ye're bidden gae take up your love,
He's sleeping sound on Yarrow."

She's torn the ribbons frae her head, 45
They were baith thick and narrow;
She's kilted up her green claithing,
And she's awa' to Yarrow.

She's taen him in her arms twa,
And gien him kisses thorough, 50
And wi' her tears she bath'd his wounds,
Upo' the braes o' Yarrow.

Her father looking ower his castle wa',
Beheld his daughter's sorrow;
"O had your tongue, daughter," he says, 55
"And let be a' your sorrow,
I'll wed you wi' a better lord,
Than he that died on Yarrow."

"O had your tongue, father," she says,
"And let be till to-morrow; 60
A better lord there cou'dna be
Than he that died on Yarrow."

She kiss'd his lips, and comb'd his hair,
As she had dune before, O;
Then wi' a crack her heart did brack, 65
Upon the braes o' Yarrow.

39. To dream of any thing green is regarded in Scotland as unlucky.

SIR JAMES THE ROSE.

Pinkerton first published this piece in his _Scottish Tragic Ballads_, p. 61. In a note, it is said to have been taken "from a modern edition in one sheet, 12mo. after the old copy." Motherwell gives another version "as it occurs in early stall prints," (_Minstrelsy_, p. 321,) and suspects a few conjectural emendations in Pinkerton's text. The passage from v. 51 to v. 59 is apparently defective, and has, probably, been tampered with; but Pinkerton's copy is on the whole much better than Motherwell's, or than Whitelaw's, (_Scottish Ballads_, 39,) which professes to be given chiefly from oral recitations.

Michael Bruce's _Sir James the Rose_ will be found in another part of this collection. In Caw's _Museum_ (p. 290) is a ballad in the worst possible taste, styled _Elfrida and Sir James of Perth_, which seems to be a mere disfiguration of Bruce's.

O heard ye o' Sir James the Rose,
The young heir o' Buleighan?
For he has kill'd a gallant squire,
Whase friends are out to tak him.

Now he has gane to the house o' Mar, 5
Whar nane might seik to find him;
To see his dear he did repair,
Weining she wold befreind him.

"Whar are ye gaing Sir James," she said,
"O whar awa are ye riding?" 10
"I maun be bound to a foreign land,
And now I'm under hiding.

"Whar sall I gae, whar sall I rin,
Whar sall I rin to lay me?
For I ha kill'd a gallant squire, 15
And his friends seik to slay me."

"O gae ye down to yon laigh house,
I sall pay there your lawing;
And as I am your leman trew,
I'll meet ye at the dawing." 20

He turned him richt and round about,
And rowd him in his brechan:
And laid him doun to tak a sleip,
In the lawlands o' Buleighan.

He was nae weil gane out o' sicht, 25
Nor was he past Milstrethen,
Whan four and twenty belted knichts
Cam riding owr the Leathen.

"O ha ye seen Sir James the Rose,
The young heir o' Buleighan? 30
For he has kill'd a gallant squire,
And we are sent to tak him."

"Yea, I ha seen Sir James," she said,
"He past by here on Monday;
Gin the steed be swift that he rides on, 35
He's past the Hichts of Lundie."

But as wi speid they rade awa,
She leudly cryd behind them;
"Gin ye'll gie me a worthy meid,
I'll tell ye whar to find him." 40

"O tell fair maid, and on our band,
Ye'se get his purse and brechan."
"He's in the bank aboon the mill,
In the lawlands o' Buleighan."

Than out and spak Sir John the Graham, 45
Who had the charge a keiping,
"It's neer be said, my stalwart feres,
We kill'd him whan a sleiping."

They seized his braid sword and his targe,
And closely him surrounded: 50
"O pardon! mercy! gentlemen,"
He then fou loudly sounded.

"Sic as ye gae, sic ye sall hae,
Nae grace we shaw to thee can."
"Donald my man, wait till I fa, 55
And ye sall hae my brechan;
Ye'll get my purse thouch fou o' gowd
To tak me to Loch Lagan."

Syne they take out his bleiding heart,
And set it on a speir; 60
Then tuke it to the house o' Mar,
And shawd it to his deir.

"We cold nae gie Sir James's purse,
We cold nae gie his brechan;
But ye sall ha his bleeding heart, 65
Bot and his bleeding tartan."

"Sir James the Rose, O for thy sake
My heart is now a breaking,
Curs'd be the day I wrocht thy wae,
Thou brave heir of Buleighan!" 70

Then up she raise, and furth she gaes,
And, in that hour o' tein,
She wanderd to the dowie glen,
And nevir mair was sein.

GR[AE]ME AND BEWICK.

From _Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_, iii. 69. A single improved reading is adopted from a Newcastle chap-book.

"Given, in the first edition, from the recitation of a gentleman,
who professed to have forgotten some verses. These have, in the
present edition, been partly restored, from a copy obtained by the
recitation of an ostler in Carlisle, which has also furnished some
slight alterations."

"The ballad is remarkable, as containing, probably, the very latest
allusion to the institution of brotherhood in arms, which was held
so sacred in the days of chivalry, and whose origin may be traced up
to the Scythian ancestors of Odin." SCOTT.

Gude Lord Gr[ae]me is to Carlisle gane,
Sir Robert Bewick there met he,
And arm in arm to the wine they did go,
And they drank till they were baith merrie.

Gude Lord Gr[ae]me has ta'en up the cup, 5
"Sir Robert Bewick, and here's to thee!
And here's to our twae sons at hame!
For they like us best in our ain countrie."--

"O were your son a lad like mine,
And learn'd some books that he could read, 10
They might hae been twae brethren bauld,
And they might hae bragged the Border side.

"But your son's a lad, and he is but bad,
And billie to my son he canna be;"
* * * *

"I sent him to the schools, and he wadna learn;[L15] 15
I bought him books, and he wadna read;[L16]
But my blessing shall he never earn,
Till I see how his arm can defend his head."--

Gude Lord Gr[ae]me has a reckoning call'd,
A reckoning then called he; 20
And he paid a crown, and it went roun',
It was all for the gude wine and free.[L22]

And he has to the stable gane,
Where there stude thirty steeds and three;
He's ta'en his ain horse amang them a', 25
And hame he rade sae manfullie.

"Welcome, my auld father!" said Christie Gr[ae]me,
"But where sae lang frae hame were ye?"--
"It's I hae been at Carlisle town,
And a baffled man by thee I be. 30

"I hae been at Carlisle town,
Where Sir Robert Bewick, he met me;
He says ye're a lad, and ye are but bad,
And billie to his son ye canna be.

"I sent ye to the schools, and ye wadna learn; 35
I bought ye books, and ye wadna read;
Therefore my blessing ye shall never earn,
Till I see with Bewick thou save thy head."

"Now, God forbid, my auld father,
That ever sic a thing suld be! 40
Billie Bewick was my master, and I was his scholar,[L41]
And aye sae weel as he learned me."

"O hald thy tongue, thou limmer loon,
And of thy talking let me be!
If thou does na end me this quarrel soon, 45
There is my glove, I'll fight wi' thee."

Then Christie Gr[ae]me he stooped low
Unto the ground, you shall understand;--
"O father, put on your glove again,
The wind has blown it from your hand?" 50

"What's that thou says, thou limmer loon?
How dares thou stand to speak to me?
If thou do not end this quarrel soon,
There's my right hand thou shalt fight with me."--

Then Christie Gr[ae]me's to his chamber gane, 55
To consider weel what then should be;
Whether he should fight with his auld father,
Or with his billie Bewick, he.

"If I suld kill my billie dear,
God's blessing I shall never win; 60
But if I strike at my auld father,
I think 'twald be a mortal sin.

"But if I kill my billie dear,
It is God's will, so let it be;
But I make a vow, ere I gang frae hame, 65
That I shall be the next man's die."--

Then he's put on's back a gude auld jack,
And on his head a cap of steel,
And sword and buckler by his side;
O gin he did not become them weel! 70

We'll leave off talking of Christie Gr[ae]me,
And talk of him again belive;
And we will talk of bonny Bewick,
Where he was teaching his scholars five.

When he had taught them well to fence, 75
And handle swords without any doubt,
He took his sword under his arm,
And he walk'd his father's close about.

He look'd atween him and the sun,
And a' to see what there might be, 80
Till he spied a man in armour bright,
Was riding that way most hastilie.

"O wha is yon, that came this way,
Sae hastilie that hither came?
I think it be my brother dear, 85
I think it be young Christie Gr[ae]me.

"Ye're welcome here, my billie dear,
And thrice ye're welcome unto me!"--
"But I'm wae to say, I've seen the day,
When I am come to fight wi' thee. 90

"My father's gane to Carlisle town,
Wi' your father Bewick there met he:
He says I'm a lad, and I am but bad,
And a baffled man I trow I be.

"He sent me to schools, and I wadna learn; 95
He gae me books, and I wadna read;
Sae my father's blessing I'll never earn,
Till he see how my arm can guard my head."

"O God forbid, my billie dear,
That ever such a thing suld be! 100
We'll take three men on either side,
And see if we can our fathers agree."

"O hald thy tongue, now, billie Bewick,
And of thy talking let me be!
But if thou'rt a man, as I'm sure thou art, 105
Come o'er the dyke, and fight wi' me."

"But I hae nae harness, billie, on my back,[L107]
As weel I see there is on thine."--
"But as little harness as is on thy back,
As little, billie, shall be on mine."-- 110

Then he's thrown aff his coat o' mail,
His cap of steel away flung he;
He stuck his spear into the ground,
And he tied his horse unto a tree.

Then Bewick has thrown aff his cloak, 115
And's psalter-book frae's hand flung he;
He laid his hand upon the dyke,
And ower he lap most manfullie.

O they hae fought for twae lang hours;
When twae lang hours were come and gane, 120
The sweat drapp'd fast frae aff them baith,
But a drap of blude could not be seen.

Till Gr[ae]me gae Bewick an ackward stroke,
Ane ackward stroke strucken sickerlie;
He has hit him under the left breast, 125
And dead-wounded to the ground fell he.

"Rise up, rise up, now, billie dear,
Arise and speak three words to me!
Whether thou's gotten thy deadly wound,
Or if God and good leeching may succour thee?" 130

"O horse, O horse, now, billie Gr[ae]me,
And get thee far from hence with speed;
And get thee out of this country,
That none may know who has done the deed."--

"O I have slain thee, billie Bewick, 135
If this be true thou tellest to me;
But I made a vow, ere I came frae hame,
That aye the next man I wad be."

He has pitch'd his sword in a moodie-hill,
And he has leap'd twenty lang feet and three, 140
And on his ain sword's point he lap,
And dead upon the ground fell he.

'Twas then came up Sir Robert Bewick,
And his brave son alive saw he;
"Rise up, rise up, my son," he said, 145
"For I think ye hae gotten the victorie."

"O hald your tongue, my father dear,
Of your prideful talking let me be!
Ye might hae drunken your wine in peace,
And let me and my billie be. 150

"Gae dig a grave, baith wide and deep,
And a grave to hald baith him and me;
But lay Christie Gr[ae]me on the sunny side,
For I'm sure he wan the victorie."

"Alack! a wae!" auld Bewick cried, 155
"Alack! was I not much to blame?
I'm sure I've lost the liveliest lad
That e'er was born unto my name."

"Alack! a wae!" quo' gude Lord Gr[ae]me,
"I'm sure I hae lost the deeper lack! 160
I durst hae ridden the Border through,
Had Christie Gr[ae]me been at my back.

"Had I been led through Liddesdale,
And thirty horsemen guarding me,
And Christie Gr[ae]me been at my back, 165
Sae soon as he had set me free!

"I've lost my hopes, I've lost my joy,
I've lost the key but and the lock;
I durst hae ridden the world round,
Had Christie Gr[ae]me been at my back." 170

15, Scott, Ye sent;

16, Ye bought.

22. Newcastle C. B., and hay.

41, 42.

Shall I venture my body in field to fight
With a man that's faith and troth to me?

N. C. B.

107-118. Instead of this passage, the Newcastle copy has the following stanzas:--

He flang his cloak from off his shoulders,
His psalm-book from his pouch flang he,
He clapped his hand upon the hedge,
And o'er lap he right wantonly.

When Graham did see his bully come,
The salt tears stood long in his ee;
"Now needs must I say thou art a man,
That dare venture thy body to fight with me.

"Nay, I have a harness on my back;
I know that thou hast none on thine;
But as little as thou hast on thy back,
As little shall there be on mine."

He flang his jacket from off his back,
His cap of steel from his head flang he;
He's taken his spear into his hand,
He's ty'd his horse unto a tree.

THE LAMENT OF THE BORDER WIDOW.

_Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_, iii. 94.

This fragment was obtained from recitation in Ettrick Forest, where it is said to refer to the execution of Cockburne, of Henderland, a freebooter, hanged by James V. over the gate of his own tower. There is another version in Johnson's _Museum_, (_Oh Ono Chrio_, p. 90,) which, Dr. Blacklock informed Burns, was composed on the massacre of Glencoe. But in fact, these verses seem to be, as Motherwell has remarked, only a portion (expanded, indeed,) of _The Famous Flower of Serving Men_: see vol. iv. p. 174.

There are some verbal differences between Scott's copy and the one in Chambers's _Scottish Songs_, i. 174.

My love he built me a bonny bower,
And clad it a' wi' lilye flour,
A brawer bower ye ne'er did see,
Than my true love he built for me.

There came a man, by middle day, 5
He spied his sport, and went away;
And brought the King that very night,
Who brake my bower, and slew my knight.

He slew my knight, to me sae dear;
He slew my knight, and poin'd his gear; 10
My servants all for life did flee,
And left me in extremitie.

I sew'd his sheet, making my mane;
I watch'd the corpse, myself alane;
I watch'd his body, night and day; 15
No living creature came that way.

I tuk his body on my back,
And whiles I gaed, and whiles I sat;
I digg'd a grave, and laid him in,
And happ'd him with the sod sae green. 20

But think na ye my heart was sair,
When I laid the moul' on his yellow hair;
O think na ye my heart was wae,
When I turn'd about, away to gae?

Nae living man I'll love again, 25
Since that my lovely knight is slain;
Wi' ae lock of his yellow hair
I'll chain my heart for ever mair.

YOUNG WATERS.

First published on an octavo sheet, by Lady Jean Home, about the middle of the last century, and from this copy reprinted in Percy's _Reliques_, (ii. 227.) Buchan has a version (i. 15) twenty-five stanzas longer than the present, which is given in our Appendix. This ballad has been supposed to refer to the fate of the Earl of Murray, (see _post_, _The Bonny Earl of Murray_.) The additional circumstances furnished by Buchan's copy, however, have led Chambers to suggest that the unfortunate hero was Walter Stuart, second son of the Duke of Albany. In support of his conjecture, he adduces "the name, which may be a corruption of Walter; the mention of the Heading (beheading) Hill of Stirling, which is known to have been the very scene of Walter Stuart's execution; the relationship which Young Waters claims with the king; and the sympathy expressed by the people, in the last verse, for the fate of the young knight, which exactly tallies with what is told us by the Scottish historians, regarding the popular feeling expressed in favour of the numerous nobles and princes of his own blood, whom the king saw it necessary to sacrifice." We do not consider these coincidences sufficient to establish the historical character of the piece.

About Zule, quhen the wind blew cule,
And the round tables began,
A'! there is cum to our kings court
Mony a well-favourd man.

The queen luikt owre the castle wa', 5
Beheld baith dale and down,
And then she saw zoung Waters
Cum riding to the town.

His footmen they did rin before,
His horsemen rade behind; 10
Ane mantel of the burning gowd
Did keip him frae the wind.

Gowden graith'd his horse before,
And siller shod behind;
The horse zoung Waters rade upon 15
Was fleeter than the wind.

But then spake a wylie lord,
Unto the queen said he:
"O tell me quha's the fairest face
Rides in the company?" 20

"I've sene lord, and I've sene laird,
And knights of high degree,
Bot a fairer face than zoung Waters
Mine eyne did never see."

Out then spaek the jealous king 25
(And an angry man was he):
"O if he had been twice as fair,
Zou micht have excepted me."

"Zou're neither laird nor lord," she says,
"Bot the king that wears the crown; 30
There is not a knight in fair Scotland,
Bot to thee maun bow down."

For a' that she could do or say,
Appeasd he wade nae bee;
Bot for the words which she had said, 35
Zoung Waters he maun dee.

They hae taen zoung Waters, and
Put fetters to his feet;
They hae taen zoung Waters, and
Thrown him in dungeon deep. 40

"Aft I have ridden thro' Stirling town,
In the wind bot and the weit;
Bot I neir rade thro' Stirling town
Wi' fetters at my feet.

"Aft have I ridden thro' Stirling town, 45
In the wind bot and the rain;
Bot I neir rade thro' Stirling town
Neir to return again."

They hae taen to the heiding-hill
His zoung son in his craddle; 50
And they hae taen to the heiding-hill
His horse bot and his saddle.

They hae taen to the heiding-hill
His lady fair to see;
And for the words the queen had spoke 55
Zoung Waters he did dee.

BONNIE GEORGE CAMPBELL.

Motherwell's _Minstrelsy_, p. 44.

This, says Motherwell, "is probably a lament for one of the adherents of the house of Argyle, who fell in the battle of Glenlivat, stricken on Thursday, the third day of October, 1594 years." It is printed, somewhat differently, in Smith's _Scottish Minstrel_, v. 42. Finlay gives eight lines of this ballad in the Preface to his first volume, p. xxxiii.

Hie upon Hielands,
And low upon Tay,
Bonnie George Campbell
Rade out on a day.
Saddled and bridled 5
And gallant rade he;
Hame cam his gude horse,
But never cam he!

Out cam his auld mither
Greeting fu' sair, 10
And out cam his bonnie bride
Rivin' her hair.
Saddled and bridled
And booted rade he;
Toom hame cam the saddle, 15
But never cam he!

"My meadow lies green,
And my corn is unshorn;
My barn is to big,
And my babie's unborn." 20
Saddled and bridled
And booted rade he;
Toom hame cam the saddle,
But never cam he!

LAMKIN.

The following is believed to be a correct account of the various printed forms of this extremely popular ballad. In the second edition of Herd's _Scottish Songs_ (1776) appeared a fragment of eighteen stanzas, called _Lammikin_, embellished in a puerile style by some modern hand. Jamieson published the story in a complete and authentic shape in his _Popular Ballads_, in 1806. Finlay's collection (1808) furnishes us with two more copies, the first of which (ii. 47) is made up in part of Herd's fragment, and the second (ii. 57) taken from a MS. "written by an old lady." Another was given, from recitation, in Motherwell's _Minstrelsy_, (1827,) with the more intelligible title of _Lambert Linkin_. An English fragment, called _Long Lonkin_, taken down from the recitation of an old woman, is said to have been inserted by Miss Landon, in the _Drawing-Room Scrap-Book_, for 1837. This was republished in Richardson's _Borderer's Table-Book_, 1846, vol. viii. 410, and the editor of that miscellany, who ought to have learned to be skeptical in such matters, urges the circumstantial character of local tradition as strong evidence that the real scene of the cruel history was in Northumberland. Lastly, we have to note a version resembling Motherwell's, styled _Bold Rankin_, printed in _A New Book of Old Ballads_, (p. 73,) and in Whitelaw's _Book of Scottish Ballads_, (p. 246,) and an imperfect ballad (_Long Lankyn_) in _Notes and Queries_, New Series, ii. 324.

We have printed Jamieson's, Motherwell's, the longer of Finlay's versions, and the English fragment: the last two in the Appendix. The following is from Jamieson's _Popular Ballads_, i. 176. "This piece was transmitted to the Editor by Mrs. Brown."

"O pay me now, Lord Wearie;
Come, pay me out o' hand."
"I canna pay you, Lamkin,
Unless I sell my land."

"O gin ye winna pay me, 5
I here sall mak a vow,
Before that ye come hame again,
Ye sall ha'e cause to rue."

Lord Wearie got a bonny ship,
To sail the saut sea faem; 10
Bade his lady weel the castle keep,
Ay till he should come hame.

But the nourice was a fause limmer
As e'er hung on a tree;
She laid a plot wi' Lamkin, 15
Whan her lord was o'er the sea.

She laid a plot wi' Lamkin,
When the servants were awa';
Loot him in at a little shot window,
And brought him to the ha'. 20

"O whare's a' the men o' this house,
That ca' me Lamkin?"
"They're at the barn well thrashing,
'Twill be lang ere they come in."

"And whare's the women o' this house, 25
That ca' me Lamkin?"
"They're at the far well washing;
'Twill be lang ere they come in."

"And whare's the bairns o' this house,
That ca' me Lamkin?" 30
"They're at the school reading;
'Twill be night or they come hame."

O whare's the lady o' this house,
That ca's me Lamkin?"
"She's up in her bower sewing, 35
But we soon can bring her down."

Then Lamkin's tane a sharp knife,
That hang down by his gaire,
And he has gi'en the bonny babe
A deep wound and a sair. 40

Then Lamkin he rocked,
And the fause nourice sang,
Till frae ilkae bore o' the cradle
The red blood out sprang.

Then out it spak the lady, 45
As she stood on the stair,
"What ails my bairn, nourice,
That he's greeting sae sair?

"O still my bairn, nourice;
O still him wi' the pap!" 50
"He winna still, lady,
For this, nor for that."

"O still my bairn, nourice;
"O still him wi' the wand!"
"He winna still, lady, 55
For a' his father's land."

"O still my bairn, nourice,
O still him wi' the bell!"
"He winna still, lady,
Till ye come down yoursel." 60

O the firsten step she steppit,
She steppit on a stane;
But the neisten step she steppit,
She met him, Lamkin.

"O mercy, mercy, Lamkin! 65
Ha'e mercy upon me!
Though you've ta'en my young son's life,
Ye may let mysel be."

"O sall I kill her, nourice?
Or sall I lat her be?" 70
"O kill her, kill her, Lamkin,
For she ne'er was good to me."

"O scour the bason, nourice,
And mak it fair and clean,
For to keep this lady's heart's blood, 75
For she's come o' noble kin."

"There need nae bason, Lamkin;
Lat it run through the floor;
What better is the heart's blood
O' the rich than o' the poor?" 80

But ere three months were at an end,
Lord Wearie came again;
But dowie dowie was his heart
When first he came hame.

"O wha's blood is this," he says, 85
"That lies in the ch[^a]mer?"
"It is your lady's heart's blood;
'Tis as clear as the lamer."

"And wha's blood is this," he says,
"That lies in my ha'?" 90
"It is your young son's heart's blood;
'Tis the clearest ava."

O sweetly sang the black-bird
That sat upon the tree;
But sairer grat Lamkin, 95
When he was condemn'd to die.

And bonny sang the mavis
Out o' the thorny brake;
But sairer grat the nourice,
When she was tied to the stake. 100

LAMBERT LINKIN.

"The present copy is given from recitation, and though it could have received additions, and perhaps improvements, from another copy, obtained from a similar source, and of equal authenticity, in his possession, the Editor did not like to use a liberty which is liable to much abuse. To some, the present set of the ballad may be valuable, as handing down both name and nickname of the revengeful builder of Prime Castle; for there can be little doubt that the epithet _Linkin_ Mr. Lambert acquired from the secrecy and address with which he insinuated himself into that notable strength. Indeed, all the names of Lammerlinkin, Lammikin, Lamkin, Lankin, Linkin, Belinkin, can easily be traced out as abbreviations of Lambert Linkin. In the present set of the ballad, Lambert Linkin and Belinkin are used indifferently, as the measure of the verse may require; in the other recited copy, to which reference has been made, it is Lammerlinkin and Lamkin; and the nobleman for whom he "built a house" is stated to be "Lord Arran." No allusion, however, is made here to the name of the owner of Prime Castle. Antiquaries, peradventure, may find it as difficult to settle the precise locality of this fortalice, as they have found it to fix the topography of Troy." Motherwell's _Minstrelsy_, p. 291.

In Finlay's second copy, the murderer's name is Balcanqual, "which," observes the editor, "is an ancient Scottish surname, and is sometimes corrupted, for the more agreeable sound, into Beluncan." It is more likely that Belinkin has suggested Balcanqual, than that Balcanqual has been corrupted into Lamkin.

Belinkin was as gude a mason
As e'er pickt a stane;
He built up Prime Castle,
But payment gat nane.

The lord said to his lady, 5
When he was going abroad,
"O beware of Belinkin,
For he lyes in the wood."

The gates they were bolted,
Baith outside and in; 10
At the sma' peep of a window
Belinkin crap in.

"Gude morrow, gude morrow,"
Said Lambert Linkin.
"Gude morrow to yoursell, sir," 15
Said the fause nurse to him.

"O whare is your gude lord?"
Said Lambert Linkin.
"He's awa to New England,
To meet with his king." 20

"O where is his auld son?"
Said Lambert Linkin.
"He's awa to buy pearlings,
Gin our lady ly in."

"Then she'll never wear them," 25
Said Lambert Linkin.
"And that is nae pity,"
Said the fause nurse to him.

"O where is your lady?"
Said Lambert Linkin. 30
"She's in her bouir sleepin',"
Said the fause nurse to him.

"How can we get at her?"
Said Lambert Linkin.
"Stab the babe to the heart 35
Wi' a silver bo'kin."

"That wud be a pity,"
Said Lambert Linkin.
"Nae pity, nae pity,"
Said the fause nurse to him. 40

Belinkin he rocked,
And the fause nurse she sang,
Till a' the tores o' the cradle[L43]
Wi' the red blude down ran.

"O still my babe, nurice, 45
O still him wi' the knife."
"He'll no be still, lady,
Tho' I lay down my life."

"O still my babe, nurice,
O still him wi' the kame." 50
"He'll no be still, lady,
Till his daddy come hame."

"O still my babe, nurice,
O still him wi' the bell."
"He'll no be still, lady, 55
Till ye come down yoursell."

"It's how can I come doun,
This cauld frosty nicht,
Without e'er a coal
Or a clear candle licht?" 60

"There's twa smocks in your coffer,
As white as a swan;
Put ane o' them about you,
It will shew you licht doun."

She took ane o' them about her, 65
And came tripping doun;
But as soon as she viewed,
Belinkin was in.

"Gude morrow, gude morrow,"
Said Lambert Linkin. 70
"Gude morrow to yoursell, sir,"
Said the lady to him.

"O save my life, Belinkin,
Till my husband come back,
And I'll gie ye as much red gold 75
As ye'll haud in your hat."

"I'll not save your life, lady,
Till your husband come back,
Tho' you wud gie me as much red gold
As I could haud in a sack. 80

"Will I kill her?" quo' Belinkin,
"Will I kill her, or let her be?"
"You may kill her," said the fause nurse,
"She was ne'er gude to me;
And ye'll be laird o' the Castle, 85
And I'll be ladye."

Then he cut aff her head
Fra her lily breast bane,
And he hung 't up in the kitchen,
It made a' the ha' shine. 90

The lord sat in England
A-drinking the wine:
"I wish a' may be weel
Wi' my lady at hame;
For the rings o' my fingers 95
They're now burst in twain!"

He saddled his horse,
And he came riding doun;
But as soon as he viewed,
Belinkin was in. 100

He hadna weel stepped
Twa steps up the stair,
Till he saw his pretty young son
Lying dead on the floor.

He hadna weel stepped 105
Other twa up the stair,
Till he saw his pretty lady
Lying dead in despair.

He hanged Belinkin
Out over the gate; 110
And he burnt the fause nurice,
Being under the grate.

43. _Tores._ The projections or knobs at the corners of old-fashioned cradles, and the ornamented balls commonly found surmounting the backs of old chairs. MOTHERWELL.

THE LAIRD OF WARISTOUN.

Jamieson and Kinloch have each published a highly dramatic fragment of this terrible story. Both of these are here given, and in the Appendix may be seen Buchan's more extensive, but far less poetical version. With this last, we have printed Mr. Chambers's account of the events on which these ballads are founded.

Jamieson's copy was taken down by Sir Walter Scott, from the recitation of his mother. _Popular Ballads_, i. 109.

Down by yon garden green
Sae merrily as she gaes;
She has twa weel-made feet,
And she trips upon her taes.

She has twa weel-made feet; 5
Far better is her hand;
She's as jimp in the middle
As ony willow-wand.

"Gif ye will do my bidding,
At my bidding for to be, 10
It's I will make you lady
Of a' the lands you see."

* * * * *

He spak a word in jest;
Her answer wasna good;
He threw a plate at her face, 15
Made it a' gush out o' blood.

She wasna frae her chamber
A step but barely three,
When up and at her richt hand
There stood Man's Enemy. 20

"Gif ye will do my bidding,
At my bidding for to be;
I'll learn you a wile
Avenged for to be."

The Foul Thief knotted the tether; 25
She lifted his head on hie;
The nourice drew the knot
That gar'd lord Waristoun die.

Then word is gane to Leith,
Also to Edinburgh town, 30
That the lady had kill'd the laird,
The laird o' Waristoun.

* * * * *

"Tak aff, tak aff my hood,
But lat my petticoat be;
Put my mantle o'er my head; 35
For the fire I downa see.

"Now, a' ye gentle maids,
Tak warning now by me,
And never marry ane
But wha pleases your e'e. 40

"For he married me for love,
But I married him for fee;
And sae brak out the feud
That gar'd my dearie die."

LAIRD OF WARIESTOUN.

Kinloch's _Ancient Scottish Ballads_, p. 53.

It was at dinner as they sat,
And when they drank the wine,
How happy were the laird and lady
Of bonnie Wariestoun.

The lady spak but ae word, 5
The matter to conclude;
The laird strak her on the mouth,
Till she spat out o' blude.

She did not know the way
Her mind to satisfy, 10
Till evil cam into her head
All by the Enemy.

* * * * * * *

"At evening when ye sit
And when ye drink the wine,
See that ye fill the glass well up 15
To the laird o' Wariestoun."

* * * * * *

So at table as they sat,
And when they drank the wine,
She made the glass aft gae round
To the laird o' Wariestoun. 20

The nurice she knet the knot,
And O she knet it sicker;
The ladie did gie it a twig,
Till it began to wicker.

But word has gane doun to Leith, 25
And up to Embro toun,
That the lady she has slain the laird,
The laird o' Wariestoun.

Word's gane to her father, the great Duniepace,
And an angry man was he; 30
Cries, "Fy! gar mak a barrel o' pikes,
And row her doun some brae."

She said, "Wae be to ye, Wariestoun,
I wish ye may sink for ain;
For I hae been your gudwife 35
These nine years, running ten;
And I never loved ye sae weill
As now when you're lying slain."

* * * * *

"But tak aff this gowd brocade,
And let my petticoat be, 40
And tie a handkerchief round my face,
That the people may not see."

THE QUEEN'S MARIE.

Of this affecting ballad different editions have appeared in Scott's _Minstrelsy_, Sharpe's _Ballad Book_, p. 18, Kinloch's _Scottish Ballads_, and Motherwell's _Minstrelsy_. There is also a fragment in Maidment's _North Countrie Garland_, which has been reprinted in Buchan's _Gleanings_, p. 164, and a very inferior version, with a different catastrophe, in Buchan's larger collection, (ii. 190,) called _Warenston and the Duke of York's Daughter_. Kinloch's copy may be found with Maidment's fragment, in the Appendix to this volume: Motherwell's immediately after the present.

Sir Walter Scott conceives the ballad to have had its foundation in an event which took place early in the reign of Mary Stuart, described by Knox as follows: "In the very time of the General Assembly, there comes to public knowledge a haynous murther, committed in the court; yea, not far from the Queen's lap; for a French woman, that served in the Queen's chamber, had played the whore with the Queen's own apothecary. The woman conceived and bare a childe, whom, with common consent, the father and mother murthered; yet were the cries of a new-borne childe hearde, searche was made, the childe and the mother were both apprehended, and so were the man and the woman condemned to be hanged in the publicke street of Edinburgh. The punishment was suitable, because the crime was haynous. But yet was not the court purged of whores and whoredoms, which was the fountaine of such enormities: for it was well known that shame hasted marriage betwixt John Sempill, called the Dancer, and Mary Levingston, sirnamed the Lusty. What bruit the Maries, and the rest of the dancers of the court had, _the ballads of that age_ doe witnesse, which we for modestie's sake omit. KNOX'S _History of the Reformation_, p. 373.

"Such," Sir Walter goes on to say, "seems to be the subject of the following ballad, as narrated by the stern apostle of Presbytery. It will readily strike the reader, that the tale has suffered great alterations, as handed down by tradition; the French waiting woman being changed into Mary Hamilton, and the Queen's apothecary into Henry Darnley. Yet this is less surprising, when we recollect, that one of the heaviest of the Queen's complaints against her ill-fated husband, was his infidelity, and that even with her personal attendants."

Satisfactorily as the circumstances of Knox's story may agree with those of the ballads, a coincidence no less striking, and extending even to the name, is presented by an incident which occurred at the court of Peter the Great. "During the reign of the Czar Peter," observes Mr. C. K. Sharpe, "one of his Empress's attendants, a Miss Hamilton, was executed for the murder of a natural child,--not her first crime in that way, as was suspected; and the Emperor, whose admiration of her beauty did not preserve her life, stood upon the scaffold till her head was struck off, which he lifted by the ears and kissed on the lips. I cannot help thinking that the two stories have been confused in the ballad; for, if Marie Hamilton was executed in Scotland, it is not likely that her relations resided beyond seas; and we have no proof that Hamilton was really the name of the woman who made the slip with the Queen's apothecary."

Scott's edition of _Mary Hamilton_, (the first ever published,) was made up by him, from various copies. See _Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_, iii. 294.

Marie Hamilton's to the kirk gane,
Wi' ribbons in her hair;
The King thought mair o' Marie Hamilton,
Than ony that were there.

Marie Hamilton's to the kirk gane, 5
Wi' ribbons on her breast;
The King thought mair o' Marie Hamilton,
Than he listen'd to the priest.

Marie Hamilton's to the kirk gane,
Wi' gloves upon her hands; 10
The King thought mair o' Marie Hamilton,
Than the Queen and a' her lands.

She hadna been about the King's court
A month, but barely one,
Till she was beloved by a' the King's court, 15
And the King the only man.

She hadna been about the King's court
A month, but barely three,
Till frae the King's court Marie Hamilton,
Marie Hamilton durstna be. 20

The King is to the Abbey gane,
To pu' the Abbey tree,
To scale the babe frae Marie's heart;
But the thing it wadna be.

O she has row'd it in her apron, 25
And set it on the sea,--
"Gae sink ye, or swim ye, bonny babe,
Ye's get nae mair o' me."--

Word is to the kitchen gane,
And word is to the ha', 30
And word is to the noble room,
Amang the ladyes a',
That Marie Hamilton's brought to bed,
And the bonny babe's mist and awa'.

Scarcely had she lain down again, 35
And scarcely fa'en asleep,
When up then started our gude Queen,
Just at her bed-feet;
Saying--"Marie Hamilton, where's your babe?
For I am sure I heard it greet."-- 40

"O no, O no, my noble Queen!
Think no such thing to be;
'Twas but a stitch into my side,
And sair it troubles me."--

"Get up, get up, Marie Hamilton: 45
Get up and follow me;
For I am going to Edinburgh town,
A rich wedding for to see."--

O slowly, slowly raise she up,
And slowly put she on; 50
And slowly rode she out the way,
Wi' mony a weary groan.

The Queen was clad in scarlet,
Her merry maids all in green;
And every town that they cam to, 55
They took Marie for the Queen.

"Ride hooly, hooly, gentlemen,
Ride hooly now wi' me!
For never, I am sure, a wearier burd
Rade in your cumpanie."-- 60

But little wist Marie Hamilton,
When she rade on the brown,
That she was ga'en to Edinburgh town,
And a' to be put down.

"Why weep ye so, ye burgess wives, 65
Why look ye so on me?
O I am going to Edinburgh town,
A rich wedding for to see."--

When she gaed up the tolbooth stairs,
The corks frae her heels did flee; 70
And lang or e'er she cam down again,
She was condemn'd to die.

When she cam to the Netherbow port,[L73]
She laughed loud laughters three;
But when she cam to the gallows foot, 75
The tears blinded her ee.

"Yestreen the Queen had four Maries,
The night she'll hae but three;
There was Marie Seaton, and Marie Beaton,
And Marie Carmichael, and me.[L80] 80

"O often have I dress'd my Queen,
And put gold upon her hair;
But now I've gotten for my reward
The gallows to be my share.

"Often have I dress'd my Queen, 85
And often made her bed;
But now I've gotten for my reward
The gallows tree to tread.

"I charge ye all, ye mariners,
When ye sail ower the faem, 90
Let neither my father nor mother get wit,
But that I'm coming hame.

"I charge ye all, ye mariners,
That sail upon the sea,
Let neither my father nor mother get wit 95
This dog's death I'm to die.

"For if my father and mother got wit,
And my bold brethren three,
O mickle wad be the gude red blude
This day wad be spilt for me! 100

"O little did my mother ken,
That day she cradled me,
The lands I was to travel in,
Or the death I was to die!"

73. The Netherbow port was the gate which divided the city of Edinburgh from the suburb, called the Canongate. S.

80. The Queen's Maries were four young ladies of the highest families in Scotland, who were sent to France in her train, and returned with her to Scotland. Keith gives us their names, p. 55. "The young Queen, Mary, embarked at Dunbarton for France, ... and with her went ... and four young virgins, all of the name of Mary, viz. Livingston, Fleming, Seatoun, and Beatoun." Neither Mary Livingston, nor Mary Fleming, are mentioned in the ballad; nor are the Mary Hamilton, and Mary Carmichael, of the ballad, mentioned by Keith. But if this corps continued to consist of young virgins, as when originally raised, it could hardly have subsisted without occasional recruits; especially if we trust our old bard, and John Knox.

The Queen's Maries are mentioned in many ballads, and the name seems to have passed into a general denomination for female attendants.--SCOTT.

MARY HAMILTON.

From Motherwell's _Minstrelsy_, p. 311.

"In this set of the ballad, from its direct allusion to the use of the Savin-tree, a clue is, perhaps, afforded for tracing how the poor mediciner mentioned by Knox should be implicated in the crime of Mary Hamilton. It may also be noted as a feature in this version of the ballad, which does not occur in any heretofore printed, the unfortunate heroine's proud and indignant spurning at life after her character had been tainted by the infamy of a sentence of condemnation. In another copy of the ballad, also obtained from recitation, this sentiment is, perhaps, still more forcibly expressed; at any rate, it is more appropriate as being addressed to the King. The whole concluding verses of this copy, differing as they somewhat do from the version adopted for a text, it has been thought worth while to preserve.

"But bring to me a cup," she says,
"A cup bot and a can,
And I will drink to all my friends,
And they'll drink to me again.
Here's to you, all travellers,
Who travel by land or sea;
Let na wit to my father nor mother
The death that I must die.
Here's to you, all travellers,
That travel on dry land;
Let na wit to my father or mother
But I am coming hame.
O little did my mother think,
First time she cradled me,
What land I was to travel on,
Or what death I would die.
O little did my mother think,
First time she tied my head,
What land I was to tread upon,
Or whare I would win my bread.
Yestreen Queen Mary had four Maries;
This night she'll hae but three;
She had Mary Seaton, and Mary Beaton,
And Mary Carmichael, and me.
Yestreen I wush Queen Mary's feet,
And bore her till her bed;
This day she's given me my reward,
The gallows tree to tread.
Cast aff, cast aff my gown," she said,
"But let my petticoat be;
And tye a napkin on my face,
For that gallows I downa see."
By and cam the King himsell,
Look'd up wi' a pitiful ee:
"Come down, come down, Mary Hamilton;
This day thou wilt dine with me."
"Hold your tongue, my sovereign liege,
And let your folly be;
An ye had had a mind to save my life,
Ye should na hae shamed me here!"

"The copy of the ballad from which the above extract is given, begins with this verse: