Chapter IV: Appendix (3)

The Laird o' Drum is a wooing gane,
It was on a morning early,
And he has fawn in wi' a bonnie may
A-shearing at her barley.

"My bonnie may, my weel-faur'd may, 5
O will ye fancy me, O;
And gae and be the lady o' Drum,
And lat your shearing abee, O?"

"It's I canna fancy thee, kind sir,
I winna fancy thee, O, 10
I winna gae and be Lady o' Drum,
And lat my shearing abee, O.

"But set your love on anither, kind sir,
Set it not on me, O,
For I am not fit to be your bride, 15
And your hure I'll never be, O.

"My father he is a shepherd mean,
Keeps sheep on yonder hill, O,
And ye may gae and speir at him,
For I am at his will, O." 20

Drum is to her father gane,
Keeping his sheep on yon hill, O;
And he has gotten his consent
That the may was at his will, O.

"But my dochter can neither read nor write, 25
She was ne'er brought up at scheel, O;
But weel can she milk cow and ewe,
And mak a kebbuck weel, O.

"She'll win in your barn at bear-seed time,
Cast out your muck at Yule, O, 30
She'll saddle your steed in time o' need,
And draw aff your boots hersell, O."

"Have not I no clergymen?
Pay I no clergy fee, O?
I'll scheel her as I think fit, 35
And as I think weel to be, O.

"I'll learn your lassie to read and write,
And I'll put her to the scheel, O;
She'll neither need to saddle my steed,
Nor draw aff my boots hersell, O. 40

"But wha will bake my bridal bread,
Or brew my bridal ale, O;
And wha will welcome my bonnie bride,
Is mair than I can tell, O."

Drum is to the hielands gane, 45
For to mak a' ready,
And a' the gentry round about,
Cried, "Yonder's Drum and his lady!

"Peggy Coutts is a very bonnie bride,
And Drum is a wealthy laddie, 50
But he micht hae chosen a hier match,
Than onie shepherd's lassie."

Then up bespak his brither John,
Says, "Ye've deen us meikle wrang, O;
Ye've married een below our degree, 55
A lake to a' our kin, O."

"Hold your tongue, my brither John,
I have deen you na wrang, O;
For I've married een to wirk and win,
And ye've married een to spend, O. 60

"The first time that I had a wife,
She was far abeen my degree, O;
I durst na come in her presence,
But wi' my hat upo' my knee, O.

"The first wife that I did wed, 65
She was far abeen my degree, O;
She wadna hae walk'd to the yetts o' Drum,
But the pearls abeen her bree, O.

"But an she was ador'd for as much gold,
As Peggy's for beautie, O, 70
She micht walk to the yetts o' Drum,
Amang gueed companie, O."

There war four and twenty gentlemen
Stood at the yetts o' Drum, O;
There was na ane amang them a' 75
That welcom'd his lady in, O.

He has tane her by the milk-white hand,
And led her in himsel, O,
And in thro' ha's, and in thro' bouers,--
"And ye're welcome, Lady o' Drum, O." 80

Thrice he kissed her cherry cheek,
And thrice her cherry chin, O;
And twenty times her comely mou',--
"And ye're welcome, Lady o' Drum, O.

"Ye sall be cook in my kitchen, 85
Butler in my ha', O;
Ye sall be lady in my command,
Whan I ride far awa, O."--

"But I told ye afore we war wed,
I was owre low for thee, O; 90
But now we are wed, and in ae bed laid,
And ye maun be content wi' me, O.

"For an I war dead, and ye war dead,
And baith in ae grave laid, O,
And ye and I war tane up again, 95
Wha could distan your mouls frae mine, O?"

LADY ANNE BOTHWELL'S LAMENT.

The unhappy lady into whose mouth some unknown poet has put this lament, is now ascertained to have been Anne, daughter to Bothwell, Bishop of Orkney. Her faithless lover was her cousin, Alexander Erskine, son to the Earl of Mar. Lady Anne is said to have possessed great beauty, and Sir Alexander was reputed the handsomest man of his age. He was first a colonel in the French army, but afterwards engaged in the service of the Covenanters, and came to his death by being blown up, with many other persons of rank, in Douglass Castle, on the 30th of August, 1640. The events which occasioned the ballad seem to have taken place early in the seventeenth century. Of the fate of the lady subsequent to this period nothing is known. See Chambers, _Scottish Ballads_, p. 150, and _The Scots Musical Museum_, (1853,) iv. 203*.

In Brome's comedy of _The Northern Lass, or the Nest of Fools_, acted in 1632, occur the two following stanzas. They are, perhaps, a part of the original Lament, which certainly has undergone great alterations in its progress down to our times.

"Peace, wayward barne! Oh cease thy moan!
Thy farre more wayward daddy's gone,
And never will recalled be,
By cryes of either thee or me:
For should wee cry
Until we dye,
Wee could not scant his cruelty.
_Ballow, ballow, &c._

"He needs might in himselfe foresee
What thou successively might'st be;
And could hee then (though me foregoe)
His infant leave, ere hee did know
How like the dad
Would be the lad,
In time to make fond maydens glad?
_Ballow, ballow, &c._"

The first professed edition of this piece is in the Third Part of Watson's _Collection of Comic and Serious Scots Poems_, p. 79; the next in the _Tea-Table Miscellany_, i. 161. Both of these copies have been modernized, but Ramsay's is the better of the two, and equally authentic. We therefore select Ramsay's, and add to it Percy's, which contains three stanzas not found in the others, and preserves somewhat more of the air of antiquity. There is a version extending to fifteen stanzas, arranged in a very different order, in Evans's _Old Ballads_, i. 259. Herd, Ritson, &c., have followed Ramsay.

Balow, my boy, ly still and sleep,
It grieves me sore to hear thee weep:
If thou'lt be silent, I'll be glad,
Thy mourning makes my heart full sad.
Balow, my boy, thy mother's joy, 5
Thy father bred me great annoy.
_Balow, my boy, ly still and sleep_,
_It grieves me sore to hear thee weep_.

Balow, my darling, sleep a while,
And when thou wak'st, then sweetly smile; 10
But smile not as thy father did,
To cozen maids, nay, God forbid;
For in thine eye his look I see,
The tempting look that ruin'd me,
_Balow, my boy, &c._ 15

When he began to court my love,
And with his sugar'd words to move,
His tempting face, and flatt'ring chear
In time to me did not appear;
But now I see that cruel he 20
Cares neither for his babe nor me.
_Balow, my boy, &c._

Fareweel, fareweel, thou falsest youth
That ever kist a woman's mouth;
Let never any after me 25
Submit unto thy courtesy!
For, if they do, O! cruel thou
Wilt her abuse, and care not how.
_Balow, my boy, &c._

I was too cred'lous at the first, 30
To yield thee all a maiden durst;
Thou swore for ever true to prove,
Thy faith unchang'd, unchang'd thy love;
But quick as thought the change is wrought,
Thy love's no mair, thy promise nought. 35
_Balow, my boy, &c._

I wish I were a maid again!
From young men's flatt'ry I'd refrain;
For now unto my grief I find
They all are perjur'd and unkind; 40
Bewitching charms bred all my harms;--
Witness my babe lies in my arms.
_Balow, my boy, &c._

I take my fate from bad to worse,
That I must needs be now a nurse, 45
And lull my young son on my lap:
From me, sweet orphan, take the pap.
Balow, my child, thy mother mild
Shall wail as from all bliss exil'd.
_Balow, my boy, &c._ 50

Balow, my boy, weep not for me,
Whose greatest grief's for wronging thee;
Nor pity her deserved smart,
Who can blame none but her fond heart;
For, too soon trusting latest finds 55
With fairest tongues are falsest minds.
_Balow, my boy, &c._

Balow, my boy, thy father's fled,
When he the thriftless son has played;
Of vows and oaths forgetful, he 60
Preferr'd the wars to thee and me.
But now, perhaps, thy curse and mine
Make him eat acorns with the swine.
_Balow, my boy, &c._

But curse not him; perhaps now he, 65
Stung with remorse, is blessing thee:
Perhaps at death; for who can tell,
Whether the judge of heaven or hell,
By some proud foe has struck the blow,
And laid the dear deceiver low? 70
_Balow, my boy, &c._

I wish I were into the bounds
Where he lies smother'd in his wounds,
Repeating, as he pants for air,
My name, whom once he call'd his fair; 75
No woman's yet so fiercely set,
But she'll forgive, though not forget.
_Balow, my boy, &c._

If linen lacks, for my love's sake,
Then quickly to him would I make 80
My smock, once for his body meet,
And wrap him in that winding-sheet
Ah me! how happy had I been,
If he had ne'er been wrapt therein.
_Balow, my boy, &c._

Balow, my boy, I'll weep for thee: 85
Too soon, alake, thou'lt weep for me:
Thy griefs are growing to a sum,
God grant thee patience when they come;
Born to sustain thy mother's shame,
A hapless fate, a bastard's name. 90
_Balow, my boy, ly still and sleep_,
_It grieves me sore to hear thee weep_.

LADY ANNE BOTHWELL'S LAMENT.

From Percy's _Reliques_, ii. 207.

"From a copy in the Editor's folio MS., corrected by another in Allan Ramsay's _Miscellany_."

Balow, my babe, lye still and sleipe!
It grieves me sair to see thee weipe:
If thoust be silent, Ise be glad,
Thy maining maks my heart ful sad.
Balow, my boy, thy mothers joy, 5
Thy father breides me great annoy.
_Balow, my babe, ly stil and sleipe_,
_It grieves me sair to see thee weepe_.

Whan he began to court my luve,
And with his sugred wordes to muve, 10
His faynings fals and flattering cheire
To me that time did not appeire:
But now I see, most cruell hee
Cares neither for my babe nor mee.
_Balow, &c._ 15

Lye still, my darling, sleipe a while,
And when thou wakest, sweitly smile:
But smile not, as thy father did,
To cozen maids; nay, God forbid!
But yett I feire, thou wilt gae neire 20
Thy fatheris hart and face to beire.
_Balow, &c._

I cannae chuse, but ever will
Be luving to thy father still:
Whaireir he gae, whaireir he ryde, 25
My luve with him doth still abyde:
In weil or wae, whaireir he gae,
Mine hart can neire depart him frae.
_Balow, &c._

But doe not, doe not, pretty mine, 30
To faynings fals thine hart incline;
Be loyal to thy luver trew,
And nevir change her for a new:
If gude or faire, of hir have care,
For womens banning 's wonderous sair. 35
_Balow, &c._

Bairne, sin thy cruel father is gane,
Thy winsome smiles maun eise my paine;
My babe and I'll together live,
He'll comfort me when cares doe grieve:
My babe and I right saft will ly, 40
And quite forgeit man's cruelty.
_Balow, &c._

Fareweil, fareweil, thou falsest youth,
That evir kist a womans mouth! 45
I wish all maides be warned by mee
Nevir to trust mans curtesy;
For if we doe bot chance to bow,
They'll use us then they care not how.
_Balow, my babe, ly stil and sleipe_,
_It grieves me sair to see thee weipe_. 50

WALY, WALY, BUT LOVE BE BONNY.

These beautiful verses are thought to be only a part of _Lord Jamie Douglas_, (see the next piece,) in one copy or another of which, according to Motherwell, nearly all of them are to be found. They were first published in the _Tea-Table Miscellany_, (i. 231,) and are here given as they there appear, separate from an explicit story. Although in this condition they must be looked upon as a fragment, still, they are too awkwardly introduced in the ballad above mentioned, and too superior to the rest of the composition, to allow of our believing that they have as yet found their proper connection.

In Johnson's _Museum_, (i. 166,) besides several trifling variations from Ramsay's copy, the fourth is replaced by the following:

When cockle shells turn siller bells,
And mussels grow on every tree,
When frost and snaw shall warm us a',
Then shall my love prove true to me.

The third stanza stands thus in a Christmas medley, quoted by Leyden from a "MS. Cantus of the latter part of the 17th century:"

Hey troly loly, love is joly,
A whyle whill it is new;
When it is old, it grows full cold,--
Woe worth the love untrue!

_Complaynt of Scotland_, i. 278.

O waly, waly up the bank,
And waly, waly down the brae,
And waly, waly yon burn side,
Where I and my love wont to gae.

I lean'd my back unto an aik, 5
I thought it was a trusty tree;
But first it bow'd, and syne it brak,
Sae my true love did lightly me!

O waly, waly, but love be bonny,
A little time while it is new; 10
But when 'tis auld, it waxeth cauld,
And fades away like the morning dew.

O wherefore should I busk my head?
Or wherfore should I kame my hair?
For my true love has me forsook, 15
And says he'll never love me mair.

Now Arthur-Seat shall be my bed,
The sheets shall ne'er be fyl'd by me:
Saint Anton's well shall be my drink,
Since my true love has forsaken me. 20

Martinmas wind, when wilt thou blaw,
And shake the green leaves off the tree?
O gentle death, when wilt thou come?
For of my life I'm weary.

'Tis not the frost that freezes fell, 25
Nor blawing snaw's inclemency;
'Tis not sic cauld that makes me cry,
But my love's heart grown cauld to me.

When we came in by Glasgow town,
We were a comely sight to see; 30
My love was clad in the black velvet,
And I my sell in cramasie.

But had I wist, before I kiss'd,
That love had been sae ill to win,
I'd lock'd my heart in a case of gold, 35
And pin'd it with a silver pin.

Oh, oh, if my young babe were born,
And set upon the nurse's knee,
And I my sell were dead and gane!
For a maid again I'll never be. 40

LORD JAMIE DOUGLAS.

From the appendix to Motherwell's _Minstrelsy_, p. v. An imperfect copy of this ballad was printed in Finlay's collection, vol. ii. p. 4; another, called the _Laird of Blackwood_, in Kinloch's, p. 60. Both of them may be seen at the end of this volume. Chambers has compiled a ballad in four parts from these three versions, another in manuscript, furnished by Kinloch, and the verses just given from Ramsay's _Miscellany_; and Aytoun, more recently, has made up a ballad from two copies obtained from recitation by Kinloch, and called it _The Marchioness of Douglas. Ballads of Scotland_, 2d ed. i. 135.

The circumstances which gave rise to the ballad are thus stated by Chambers: "James, second Marquis of Douglas, when aged twenty-four, married at Edinburgh, on the 7th of September, 1670, Lady Barbara Erskine, eldest daughter of John, ninth Earl of Mar. This lady is said to have been previously wooed, without success, by a gentleman of the name of Lowrie, who on account of his afterwards marrying Mariotte Weir, heiress of Blackwood, in Lanarkshire, was commonly called, according to the custom of Scotland, the Tutor, and sometimes the Laird, of Blackwood. Lowrie, who seems to have been considerably advanced in life at the time, was chamberlain or factor to the Marquis of Douglas; a circumstance which gave him peculiar facilities for executing an atrocious scheme of vengeance he had projected against the lady. By a train of proceedings somewhat similar to those of Iago, and in particular, by pretending to have discovered a pair of men's shoes underneath the Marchioness's bed, he completely succeeded in breaking up the affection of the unfortunate couple. Lord Douglas, who, though a man of profligate conduct, had hitherto treated his wife with some degree of politeness, now rendered her life so miserable, that she was obliged to seek refuge with her father. The earl came with a large retinue to carry her off, when, according to the ballad, as well as the tradition of the country, a most affecting scene took place. The Marquis himself was so much overcome by the parting of his wife and child--for she had now borne a son--that he expressed, even in that last hour, a desire of being reconciled to her. But the traitorous Lowrie succeeded in preventing him from doing so, by a well-aimed sarcasm at his weakness.... Regarding the ultimate fate of the Marchioness I am altogether ignorant. It is, however, very improbable that any reconciliation ever took place between her and her husband, such as is related in the ballad." _Scottish Ballads_, p. 150.

O waly, waly up the bank,
And waly, waly down the brae,
And waly, waly by yon burn side,
Where me and my lord was wont to gae.

Hey nonny nonnie, but love is bonnie, 5
A little while when it is new;
But when love grows auld it grows mair cauld,
And fades away like the morning dew.

I lean'd my back against an aik,
I thocht it was a trustie tree; 10
But first it bowed, and syne it break,
And sae did my fause luve to me.

My mother tauld me when I was young,
That young man's love was ill to trow;
But untill her I would give nae ear, 15
And alace my ain wand dings me now!

O wherefore need I busk my head?
O wherefore should I kaim my hair?
For my good lord has me forsook,
And says he'll never love me mair. 20

Gin I had wist or I had kisst
That young man's love was sae ill to win,
I would hae lockt my hert wi' a key o' gowd,
And pinn'd it wi' a siller pin.

An I had kent what I ken now, 25
I'd never crosst the water Tay,
But stayed still at Athole's gates;--
He would have made me his lady gay.

When lords and lairds cam to this toun,
And gentlemen o' a high degree, 30
I took my auld son in my arms,
And went to my chamber pleasantlie.

But when lords and lairds come through this toun,[L33]
And gentlemen o' a high degree,
I must sit alane intill the dark, 35
And the babie on the nurse's knee.

I had a nurse, and she was fair;
She was a dearly nurse to me;
She took my gay lord frae my side,
And used him in her companie. 40

Awa, awa, thou fause Blackwood,
Aye, and an ill death may thou die!
Thou wert the first and occasion last
Of parting my gay lord and me.

When I lay sick, and very sick, 45
Sick I was and like to die,
A gentleman, a friend of mine,
He came on purpose to visit me;
But Blackwood whisper'd in my lord's ear
He was ower lang in chamber with me. 50

When I was sick, and very sick,
Sick I was and like to die,
I drew me near to my stairhead,
And I heard my ain lord lichtly me.

"Come down, come down, O Jamie Douglas, 55
And drink the orange wine with me;
I'll set thee on a chair of gold,
And daut thee kindly on my knee."

"When sea and sand turn far inland,
And mussels grow on ilka tree, 60
When cockle shells turn siller bells,
I'll drink the orange wine wi' thee."

"What ails you at our youngest son,
That sits upon the nurse's knee?
I'm sure he's never done any harm, 65
An it's not to his ain nurse and me."

If I had kent what I ken now,
That love it was sae ill to win,
I should ne'er hae wet my cherry cheek
For onie man or woman's son. 70

When my father came to hear
That my gay lord had forsaken me,
He sent five score of his soldiers bright
To take me safe to my ain countrie.

Up in the mornin' when I arose, 75
My bonnie palace for to lea',
I whispered in at my lord's window,
But the never a word he would answer me.

"Fare ye weel, then, Jamie Douglas,
I need care as little as ye care for me; 80
The Earl of Mar is my father dear,
And I soon will see my ain countrie.

"Ye thought that I was like yoursell,
And loving ilk ane I did see;
But here I swear by the heavens clear, 85
I never loved a man but thee."

Slowly, slowly rose I up,
And slowly, slowly I cam down;
And when he saw me sit in my coach,
He made his drums and trumpets sound. 90

When I into my coach was set,
My tenants all were with me tane;
They set them down upon their knees,
And they begg'd me to come back again.

It's "fare ye weel, my bonnie palace; 95
And fare ye weel, my children three:
God grant your father may get mair grace,
And love thee better than he has done me."

It's "fare ye weel, my servants all;
And you, my bonnie children three: 100
God grant your father grace to be kind
Till I see you safe in my ain countrie.

"But wae be to you, fause Blackwood,
Aye, and ill death may you die!
Ye are the first, and I hope the last, 105
That put strife between my good lord and me."

When I came in through Edinburgh town,
My loving father came to meet me,
With trumpets sounding on every side;
But it was no comfort at all to me: 110
For no mirth nor music sounds in my ear,
Since the Earl of March has forsaken me.

"Hold your tongue, my daughter dear,
And of your weeping pray let abee;
For I'll send to him a bill of divorce, 115
And I'll get as good a lord to thee."

"Hold your tongue, my father dear,
And of your scoffing pray let abee;
I would rather hae a kiss of my ain lord's mouth
As all the lords in the north countrie." 120

When she came to her father's land,
The tenants a' cam her to see;
Never a word she could speak to them,
But the buttons aff her clothes did flee.[L124]

"The linnet is a bonnie bird, 125
And aften flees far frae its nest;
So all the world may plainly see
They 're far awa that I love best!"

She looked out at her father's window,
To take a view of the countrie; 130
Who did she see but Jamie Douglas,
And along with him her children three.

There came a soldier to the gate,
And he did knock right hastilie:
"If Lady Douglas be within, 135
Bid her come down and speak to me."

"O come away, my lady fair,
Come away, now, alang with me:
For I have hanged fause Blackwood
At the very place where he told the lie." 140

33, cam.

124. See _Andrew Lammie_, vol. ii. 191.

THE NUTBROWNE MAIDE.

We owe the preservation of this beautiful old ballad to _Arnold's Chronicle_, of which the earliest edition is thought to have been printed in 1502. In Laneham's account of Elizabeth's visit to Kenilworth, the _Nut-brown Maid_ is mentioned as a book by itself, and there is said to be at Oxford a list of books offered for sale at that place in 1520, among which is the _Not-Broon Mayd_, price one penny; still, the ballad is not known to exist at present in any other ancient form than that of the Chronicle. We have no means of determining the date of the composition, but Percy has justly remarked that it is not probable that an antiquary would have inserted a piece in his historical collections which he knew to be modern. The language is that of the time at which it was printed.

The ballad seems to have been long forgotten, when it was revived in _The Muse's Mercury_ for June, 1707, (Percy.) There Prior met with it, and, charmed with its merit, he took the story for the foundation of his _Henry and Emma_. Capel, in 1760, published a collated text from two different editions of the Chronicle,--we suppose that of 1502, and the second, which was printed in 1521, and exhibits some differences. Percy adopted Capel's text with a few alterations, (_Reliques_, ii. 30.) The text of the edition of 1502 has been twice reprinted since Percy's time: in the _Censura Literaria_, vol. i. p. 15, and by Mr. Wright, in a little black-letter volume, London, 1836. We have adopted Mr. Wright's text, not neglecting to compare it with that of Sir Egerton Brydges.

It will be interesting to compare with this matchless poem a ballad in other languages, which has the same drift;--_Die Lind im Thale_, or _Liebesprobe_, Erk, _Deutscher Liederhort_, p. 1, 3; Uhland, No. 116; Hoffmann, _Schlesische_ V. L., No. 22, _Niederl[:a]ndische V. L._, No. 26; Haupt and Schmaler, _V. L. der Wenden_, i. 72 (Hoffmann).

In the sixteenth century a ridiculous attempt was made to supplant the popular ballads in the mouths and affections of the people by turning them into pious parodies. _The Nut-Brown Maid_ was treated in this way, and the result may be seen in _The New Not-borune Mayd_, printed by the Roxburghe Club, and by the Percy Society, vol. vi.

"Be it right or wrong, these men among
On women do complaine,
Affermyng this, how that it is
A labour spent in vaine
To love them wele, for never a dele 5
They love a man agayne:
For lete a man do what he can
Ther favour to attayne,
Yet yf a newe do them pursue,[L9]
Ther furst trew lover than 10
Laboureth for nought, and from her thought
He is a bannished man."

"I say not nay, but that all day
It is bothe writ and sayde,
That womans fayth is, as who sayth, 15
All utterly decayed:
But nevertheles, right good witnes
In this case might be layde,
That they love trewe, and contynew,--
Recorde THE NUTBROWNE MAIDE; 20
Whiche from her love, whan her to prove
He cam to make his mone,
Wolde not departe, for in her herte
She lovyd but hym allone."

"Than betwene us lete us discusse 25
What was all the man['e]r
Betwene them too; we wyl also
Telle all the peyne and fere[L28]
That she was in; nowe I begynne,
See that ye me answ['e]re:[L30] 30
Wherfore [all] ye that present be,
I pray you geve an eare.
I am the knyght, I cum be nyght,
As secret as I can,
Sayng 'Alas! thus stondyth the case,[L35] 35
I am a bannisshed man!'"

"And I your wylle for to fulfylle
In this wyl not refuse,
Trusting to shewe, in wordis fewe,
That men have an ille use, 40
To ther owne shame, wymen to blame,
And causeles them accuse:
Therfore to you I answere now,
Alle wymen to excuse,
'Myn owne hert dere, with you what chiere? 45
I prey you telle anoon:
For in my mynde, of all mankynde
I love but you allon.'"

"It stondith so: a deed is do
Wherof moche harme shal growe.[L50] 50
My desteny is for to dey
A shamful dethe, I trowe,
Or ellis to flee,--the ton must be:
None other wey I knowe,
But to withdrawe as an outlaw, 55
And take me to my bowe.
Wherfore, adew, my owne hert trewe,
None other red I can;
For I muste to the grene wode goo,
Alone, a bannysshed man." 60

"O Lorde, what is this worldis blisse
That chaungeth as the mone!
My somers day in lusty May
Is derked before the none.
I here you saye Farwel: nay, nay, 65
We departe not soo sone.
Why say ye so? Wheder wyl ye goo?
Alas, what have ye done?
Alle my welfare to sorow and care
Shulde chaunge, yf ye were gon: 70
For in my mynde, of all mankynde
I love but you alone."

"I can beleve it shal you greve,
And somewhat you distrayne;
But aftyrwarde your paynes harde, 75
Within a day or tweyne,
Shal sone aslake, and ye shal take
Confort to you agayne.
Why shuld ye nought? for, to make thought
Your labur were in vayne: 80
And thus I do, and pray you, too,
As hertely as I can:
For I muste too the grene wode goo,
Alone, a banysshed man."

"Now syth that ye have shewed to me 85
The secret of your mynde,
I shal be playne to you agayne,
Lyke as ye shal me fynde:
Syth it is so that ye wyll goo,
I wol not leve behynde; 90
Shal never be sayd the Nutbrowne Mayd
Was to her love unkind.
Make you redy, for soo am I,
All though it were anoon;
For in my mynde, of all mankynde 95
I love but you alone."

"Yet I you rede to take good hede
What men wyl thinke and sey;[L98]
Of yonge and olde it shal be told,
That ye be gone away 100
Your wanton wylle for to fulfylle,
In grene wood you to play;
And that ye myght from your delyte
Noo lenger make delay.
Rather than ye shuld thus for me 105
Be called an ylle woman,
Yet wolde I to the grene wodde goo
Alone, a banysshed man."

"Though it be songe of olde and yonge
That I shuld be to blame, 110
Theirs be the charge that speke so large
In hurting of my name.
For I wyl prove that feythful love
It is devoyd of shame,
In your distresse and hevynesse, 115
To parte wyth you the same;
And sure all thoo that doo not so,
Trewe lovers ar they noon;
But in my mynde, of all mankynde
I love but you alone." 120

"I counsel yow remembre how
It is noo maydens lawe,
Nothing to dought, but to renne out
To wod with an outlawe.
For ye must there in your hande bere 125
A bowe to bere and drawe,
And as a theef thus must ye lyeve,
Ever in drede and awe;
By whiche to yow gret harme myght grow;--
Yet had I lever than 130
That I had too the grenewod goo
Alone, a banysshyd man."

"I thinke not nay; but, as ye saye,
It is noo maydens lore;
But love may make me for your sake, 135
As ye have said before,
To com on fote, to hunte and shote
To gete us mete and store;
For soo that I your company
May have, I aske noo more; 140
From whiche to parte, it makith myn herte
As colde as ony ston:
For in my mynde, of all mankynde
I love but you alone."

"For an outlawe this is the lawe, 145
That men hym take and binde,
Without pytee hanged to bee,
And waver with the wynde.
Yf I had neede, as God forbede,
What rescous coude ye finde? 150
For sothe, I trowe, you and your bowe
Shuld drawe for fere behynde:[L152]
And noo merveyle; for lytel avayle
Were in your councel than;
Wherfore I too the woode wyl goo 155
Alone, a banysshed man."

"Ful wel knowe ye that wymen bee
Ful febyl for to fyght;
Noo womanhed is it indeede,
To bee bolde as a knight. 160
Yet in suche fere yf that ye were,
Amonge enemys day and nyght,
I wolde wythstonde, with bowe in hande,
To greeve them as I myght,
And you to save, as wymen have, 165
From deth many one:
For in my mynde, of all mankynde
I love but you alone."

"Yet take good hede; for ever I drede
That ye coude not sustein 170
The thorney wayes, the depe valeis,
The snowe, the frost, the reyn,
The colde, the hete; for, drye or wete,
We must lodge on the playn;
And us aboove noon other rove 175
But a brake bussh or twayne;
Whiche sone shulde greve you, I beleve,
And ye wolde gladly than
That I had too the grenewode goo
Alone, a banysshyd man." 180

"Syth I have here been partynere
With you of joy and blysse,
I must also parte of your woo
Endure, as reason is;
Yet am I sure of oo plesure, 185
And shortly, it is this;
That where ye bee, mesemeth, perd['e],
I coude not fare amysse.
Wythout more speche, I you beseche
That we were soon agone; 190
For in my mynde, of all mankynde
I love but you alone."

"Yf ye goo thedyr, ye must consider,
Whan ye have lust to dyne,
Ther shel no mete be fore to gete, 195
Nor drinke, bere, ale, ne wine;
Ne shetis clene to lye betwene,
Made of thred and twyne:
Noon other house but levys and bowes
To kever your hed[200] and myn.[L200] 200
Loo, myn herte swete, this ylle dyet
Shuld make you pale and wan:
Wherfore I to the wood wyl goo
Alone, a banysshid man."

"Amonge the wylde dere suche an archier 205
As men say that ye bee
Ne may not fayle of good vitayle,
Where is so grete plente;
And watir cleere of the ryvere
Shal be ful swete to me, 210
Wyth whiche in hele I shal right wele
Endure, as ye shall see:
And er we go, a bed or too
I can provide anoon;
For in my mynde, of all mankynde 215
I love but you alone."

"Loo, yet before, ye must doo more,
Yf ye wyl goo with me,
As cutte your here up by your ere,
Your kirtel by the knee; 220
Wyth bowe in hande, for to withstonde
Your enmys, yf nede bee;
And this same nyght, before daylight,
To woodward wyl I flee;
And [if] ye wyl all this fulfylle, 225
Doo it shortely as ye can:
Ellis wil I to the grene wode goo
Alone, a banysshyd man."

"I shal as now do more for you
Than longeth to womanhede,[L230] 230
To short my here, a bowe to bere,
To shote in tyme of nede:
O my swete moder, before all other,
For you have I most drede!
But now, adiew! I must ensue 235
Wher fortune duth me leede.
All this make ye; now lete us flee;
The day cums fast upon;[L238]
For in my mynde, of all mankynde
I love but you alone." 240

"Nay, nay, not soo; ye shal not goo;
And I shal telle you why;
Your appetyte is to be lyght
Of love, I wele aspie:
For right as ye have sayd to me, 245
In lyke wyse, hardely,
Ye wolde answere, who so ever it were,
In way of company.
It is sayd of olde, sone hote, sone colde,
And so is a woman; 250
Wherfore I too the woode wyl goo
Alone, a banysshid man."

"Yef ye take hede, yt is noo nede[L253]
Suche wordis to say bee me;
For ofte ye preyd, and longe assayed, 255
Or I you lovid, perd['e].
And though that I of auncestry
A barons doughter bee,
Yet have you proved how I you loved,
A squyer of lowe degree; 260
And ever shal, what so befalle,
To dey therfore anoon;
For in my mynde, of al mankynde
I love but you alone."

"A barons childe to be begyled, 265
It were a curssed dede!
To be felow with an outlawe,
Almyghty God forbede!
Yet bettyr were the power squyer
Alone to forest yede, 270
Than ye shal saye another day,
That be [my] wyked dede
Ye were betrayed; wherfore, good maide,
The best red that I can
Is that I too the greene wode goo 275
Alone, a banysshed man."

"Whatsoever befalle, I never shal
Of this thing you upbraid;
But yf ye goo, and leve me soo,
Than have ye me betraied. 280
Remembre you wele, how that ye dele,
For yf ye, as ye sayde,
Be so unkynde to leve behynd
Your love, the Notbrowne Maide,
Trust me truly, that I shal dey, 285
Sone after ye be gone;
For in my mynde, of all mankynde
I love but you alone."

"Yef that ye went, ye shulde repent,
For in the forest now 290
I have purveid me of a maide,
Whom I love more than you:
Another fayrer than ever ye were,
I dare it wel avowe;
And of you bothe eche shulde be wrothe 295
With other, as I trowe.
It were myn ease to lyve in pease;
So wyl I, yf I can;
Wherfore I to the wode wyl goo
Alone, a banysshid man." 300

"Though in the wood I undirstode
Ye had a paramour,
All this may nought remeve my thought,
But that I wil be your;
And she shal fynde me softe and kynde, 305
And curteis every our,
Glad to fulfylle all that she wylle
Commaunde me, to my power;
For had ye, loo, an hundred moo,
Yet wolde I be that one.[L310] 310
For in my mynde, of all mankynde
I love but you alone."

"Myn oune dere love, I see the prove
That ye be kynde and trewe;
Of mayde and wyf, in all my lyf, 315
The best that ever I knewe.
Be mery and glad, be no more sad,
The case is chaunged newe;
For it were ruthe that for your trouth
You shuld have cause to rewe. 320
Be not dismayed: whatsoever I sayd
To you whan I began,
I wyl not too the grene wod goo;
I am noo banysshyd man."

"Theis tidingis be more glad to me 325
Than to be made a quene,
Yf I were sure they shuld endure;
But it is often seen,
When men wyl breke promyse, they speke
The wordis on the splene. 330
Ye shape some wyle me to begyle,
And stele fro me, I wene;
Then were the case wurs than it was,
And I more woo-begone;
For in my mynde, of all mankynde 335
I love but you alone."

"Ye shal not nede further to drede:
I wyl not disparage
You, God defende! sith you descende
Of so grete a lynage. 340
Nou understonde, to Westmerlande,
Which is my herytage,
I wyl you bringe, and wyth a rynge,
Be wey of maryage,
I wyl you take, and lady make, 345
As shortly as I can:
Thus have ye wone an erles son,
And not a banysshyd man."

Here may ye see, that wymen be
In love meke, kinde, and stable: 350
Late never man repreve them than,
Or calle them variable;
But rather prey God that we may
To them be comfortable,
Whiche somtyme provyth suche as loveth, 355
Yf they be charitable.
For sith men wolde that wymen sholde
Be meke to them echeon,
Moche more ought they to God obey,
And serve but hym alone. 360

9, to.

28, they.

30, Soe.

35, cause.

50. Wherfore.

v. 98, Whan.

v. 152, Shul.

200, bed, Wright.

v. 230, That, womanhod.

238, cum.

v. 253, yet is.

v. 310, Of them I wolde be one. Percy MS.

THE BAILIFF'S DAUGHTER OF ISLINGTON.

From _Reliques of Ancient English Poetry_, iii. 177. Another copy is in Ritson's _Ancient Songs_, ii. 134.

"From an ancient black-letter copy in the Pepys collection, with some improvements communicated by a lady as she had heard the same recited in her youth. The full title is, _True love requited: Or, the Bailiff's daughter of Islington_."--PERCY.

There was a youthe, and a well-beloved youthe,
And he was a squires son:
He loved the bayliffes daughter deare,
That lived in Islington.

Yet she was coye, and would not believe 5
That he did love her soe,
Noe nor at any time would she
Any countenance to him showe.

But when his friendes did understand
His fond and foolish minde, 10
They sent him up to faire London,
An apprentice for to binde.

And when he had been seven long yeares,
And never his love could see,--
"Many a teare have I shed for her sake, 15
When she little thought of mee."

Then all the maids of Islington
Went forth to sport and playe,
All but the bayliffes daughter deare;
She secretly stole awaye. 20

She pulled off her gowne of greene,
And put on ragged attire,
And to faire London she would go,
Her true love to enquire.

And as she went along the high road, 25
The weather being hot and drye,
She sat her downe upon a green bank,
And her true love came riding bye.

She started up, with a colour soe redd,
Catching hold of his bridle-reine; 30
"One penny, one penny, kind sir," she sayd,
"Will ease me of much paine."

"Before I give you one penny, sweet-heart,
Praye tell me where you were borne."
"At Islington, kind sir," sayd shee, 35
"Where I have had many a scorne."

"I prythee, sweet-heart, then tell to mee,
O tell me, whether you knowe
The bayliffes daughter of Islington."
"She is dead, sir, long agoe." 40

"If she be dead, then take my horse,
My saddle and bridle also;
For I will into some farr countrye,
Where noe man shall me knowe."

"O staye, O staye, thou goodlye youthe, 45
She standeth by thy side;
She is here alive, she is not dead,
And readye to be thy bride."

"O farewell griefe, and welcome joye,
Ten thousand times therefore; 50
For nowe I have founde mine owne true love,
Whom I thought I should never see more."

THE BLIND BEGGAR'S DAUGHTER OF BEDNALL GREEN.

The copy here given of this favorite popular ballad is derived from _Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs of the Peasantry of England_, Percy Society, xvii. 60. It is there printed from a modern broadside, "carefully collated" with a copy in the Bagford collection. In Percy's edition, (_Reliques_, ii. 171,) besides many trivial emendations, eight modern stanzas (said to be the work of Robert Dodsley) are substituted for the first five of the Beggar's second song, "to remove absurdities and inconsistencies," and to reconcile the story to probability and true history! The copy in _A Collection of Old Ballads_, ii. 202, is not very different from the present, and the few changes that have been made in the text selected, unless otherwise accounted for, are adopted from that.

"Pepys, in his diary, 25th June, 1663, speaks of going with Sir William and Lady Batten, and Sir J. Minnes, to Sir W. Rider's at Bednall Green, to dinner, 'a fine place;' and adds, 'This very house was built by the Blind Beggar of Bednall Green, so much talked of and sung in ballads; but they say it was only some outhouses of it.'" CHAPPELL, _Popular Musk of the Olden Time_, p. 159.

This song's of a beggar who long lost his sight,
And had a fair daughter, most pleasant and bright;
And many a gallant brave suitor had she,
And none was so comely as pretty Bessee.

And though she was of complexion most fair, 5
Yet seeing she was but a beggar his heir,[L6]
Of ancient housekeepers despised was she,
Whose sons came as suitors to pretty Bessee.

Wherefore in great sorrow fair Bessee did say,
"Good father and mother, let me now go away, 10
To seek out my fortune, whatever it be;"
This suit then was granted to pretty Bessee.

This Bessee, that was of a beauty most bright,
They clad in gray russet, and late in the night
From father and mother alone parted she, 15
Who sighed and sobbed for pretty Bessee.

She went till she came to Stratford-at-Bow,
Then she knew not whither or which way to go;
With tears she lamented her sad destiny,
So sad and so heavy was pretty Bessee. 20

She kept on her journey until it was day,
And went unto Rumford along the highway;
And at the King's Arms entertained was she,
So fair and well-favoured was pretty Bessee.

She had not been there one month at an end, 25
But master and mistress and all was her friend;
And every brave gallant that once did her see
Was straightway in love with pretty Bessee.

Great gifts they did send her of silver and gold,
And in their songs daily her love they extoll'd; 30
Her beauty was blazed in every degree,
So fair and so comely was pretty Bessee.

The young men of Rumford in her had their joy;
She shewed herself courteous, but never too coy,
And at their commandment still she would be, 35
So fair and so comely was pretty Bessee.

Four suitors at once unto her did go,
They craved her favour, but still she said no;
"I would not have gentlemen marry with me,"--
Yet ever they honoured pretty Bessee. 40

Now one of them was a gallant young knight,
And he came unto her disguised in the night;
The second, a gentleman of high degree,
Who wooed and sued for pretty Bessee.

A merchant of London, whose wealth was not small, 45
Was then the third suitor, and proper withal;
Her master's own son the fourth man must be,
Who swore he would die for pretty Bessee.

"If that thou wilt marry with me," quoth the knight,
"I'll make thee a lady with joy and delight; 50
My heart is enthralled in thy fair beauty,
Then grant me thy favour, my pretty Bessee."

The gentleman said, "Come marry with me,
In silks and in velvets my Bessee shall be;
My heart lies distracted, oh hear me!" quoth he, 55
"And grant me thy love, my dear pretty Bessee."

"Let me be thy husband," the merchant did say,
"Thou shalt live in London most gallant and gay;
My ships shall bring home rich jewels for thee,
And I will for ever love pretty Bessee." 60

Then Bessee she sighed, and thus she did say;
"My father and mother I mean to obey;
First get their goodwill, and be faithful to me,
And you shall enjoy your dear pretty Bessee."

To every one of them that answer she made; 65
Therefore unto her they joyfully said,
"This thing to fulfill we all now agree;
But where dwells thy father, my pretty Bessee?"

"My father," quoth she, "is soon to be seen;
The silly blind beggar of Bednall Green, 70
That daily sits begging for charity,
He is the kind father of pretty Bessee.

"His marks and his token are knowen full well;
He always is led by a dog and a bell;
A poor silly old man, God knoweth, is he, 75
Yet he is the true father of pretty Bessee."

"Nay, nay," quoth the merchant, "thou art not for me;"
"She," quoth the innholder, "my wife shall not be;"
"I loathe," said the gentleman, "a beggars degree,
Therefore, now farewell, my pretty Bessee." 80

"Why then," quoth the knight, "happ better or worse,
I weigh not true love by the weight of the purse,
And beauty is beauty in every degree;
Then welcome to me, my dear pretty Bessee.

"With thee to thy father forthwith I will go." 85
"Nay, forbear," quoth his kinsman, "it must not be so:
A poor beggars daughter a lady sha'nt be;
Then take thy adieu of thy pretty Bessee."

As soon then as it was break of the day,
The knight had from Rumford stole Bessee away; 90
The young men of Rumford, so sick as may be,[L91]
Rode after to fetch again pretty Bessee.

As swift as the wind to ride they were seen,
Until they came near unto Bednall Green,
And as the knight lighted most courteously, 95
They fought against him for pretty Bessee.

But rescue came presently over the plain,
Or else the knight there for his love had been slain;
The fray being ended, they straightway did see
His kinsman come railing at pretty Bessee. 100

Then bespoke the Blind Beggar, "Altho' I be poor,
Rail not against my child at my own door;
Though she be not decked in velvet and pearl,
Yet I will drop angels with thee for my girl;

"And then if my gold should better her birth, 105
And equal the gold you lay on the earth,
Then neither rail you, nor grudge you to see
The Blind Beggars daughter a lady to be.

"But first, I will hear, and have it well known,
The gold that you drop it shall be all you own;" 110
"With that," they replied, "contented we be;"
"Then heres," quoth the beggar, "for pretty Bessee."

With that an angel he dropped on the ground,
And dropped, in angels, full three thousand pound;
And oftentimes it proved most plain, 115
For the gentlemans one, the beggar dropped twain.

So that the whole place wherein they did sit
With gold was covered every whit;
The gentleman having dropt all his store,
Said, "Beggar, your hand hold, for I have no more. 120

"Thou hast fulfilled thy promise aright;"
"Then marry my girl," quoth he to the knight;
"And then," quoth he, "I will throw you down,
An hundred pound more to buy her a gown."

The gentlemen all, who his treasure had seen, 125
Admired the Beggar of Bednall Green.
And those that had been her suitors before,
Their tender flesh for anger they tore.

Thus was the fair Bessee matched to a knight,
And made a lady in others despite: 130
A fairer lady there never was seen
Than the Blind Beggars daughter of Bednall Green.

But of her sumptuous marriage and feast,
And what fine lords and ladies there prest,
The second part shall set forth to your sight, 135
With marvellous pleasure, and wished for delight.

6. And seeing.

91. Percy has _thicke_.