Chapter VI: Book VI: The Lochmaben Harper (5)

Wi' swords and wi' daggers they did him surround;
And they've pierced bonny Brackley wi' many a wound. 30

Frae the head o' the Dee to the banks o' the Spey,
The Gordons may mourn him, and bann Inverey.

"O came ye by Brackley yates, was ye in there?
Or saw ye his Peggy dear riving her hair?"

"O I came by Brackley yates, I was in there, 35
And I saw his Peggy a-making good cheer."

That lady she feasted them, carried them ben;
She laugh'd wi' the men that her baron had slain.

"O fye on you, lady! how could you do sae?
You open'd your yates to the fause Inverey." 40

She ate wi' him, drank wi' him, welcom'd him in;
She welcom'd the villain that slew her baron!

She kept him till morning, syne bade him be gane,
And shaw'd him the road that he shou'dna be taen.

"Thro' Birss and Aboyne," she says, "lyin in a tour, 45
O'er the hills o' Glentanar you'll skip in an hour."

--There's grief in the kitchen, and mirth in the ha';
But the Baron o' Brackley is dead and awa.

THE BARON OF BRAIKLEY.

Buchan's _Gleanings_, p. 68, taken from _Scarce Ancient Ballads_, p. 9.

Inverey came down Deeside whistlin an playin,
He was at brave Braikley's yett ere it was dawin;
He rappit fou loudly, an wi a great roar,
Cried, "Cum down, cum down, Braikley, an open the door.

"Are ye sleepin, Baronne, or are ye wakin? 5
Ther's sharp swords at your yett will gar your bluid spin:
Open the yett, Braikley, an lat us within,
Till we on the green turf gar your bluid rin."

Out spak the brave Baronne owre the castell wa,
"Are ye come to spulzie an plunder my ha? 10
But gin ye be gentlemen, licht an cum in,
Gin ye drink o' my wine ye'll nae gar my bluid spin.

"Gin ye be hir'd widdifus, ye may gang by,
Ye may gang to the lawlands and steal their fat ky;
Ther spulzie like revers o' wyld kettrin clan, 15
Wha plunder unsparing baith houses and lan'.

"Gin ye be gentlemen, licht an cum in,
Ther's meat an drink i' my ha' for every man:
Gin ye be hir'd widdifus, ye may gang by,
Gang down to the lawlans, an steal horse an ky." 20

Up spak his ladie, at his bak where she laid,
"Get up, get up, Braikley, an be not afraid;
They're but hir'd widdifus wi belted plaids.
* * * * *

"Cum kis me, my Peggy, I'le nae langer stay,
For I will go out an meet Inverey; 25
But haud your tongue, Peggy, and mak nae sic din,
For yon same hir'd widdifus will prove to be men."

She called on her maries, they came to her han;
Cries, "Bring your rocks, lassies, we will them coman;
Get up, get up, Braikley, and turn bak your ky, 30
For me an my women will them defy.

"Come forth than, my maidens, an show them some play;
We'll ficht them, an shortly the cowards will fly.
Gin I had a husband, wheras I hae nane,
He wadna ly in his bed and see his ky taen. 35

"Ther's four-an-twenty milk whit calves, twal o' them ky,
In the woods o' Glentanner it's ther they a' ly;
Ther are goats in the Etnach, an sheep o' the brae,
An a' will be plunderd by young Inverey."

"Now haud your tongue, Peggy, an gie me a gun, 40
Ye'll see me gae furth, but Ile never return.
Call my bruther William, my unkl also;
My cusin James Gordon, we'll mount an' we'll go."

Whan Braikley was ready an stood i the closs,
He was the bravest baronne that e'er munted horse; 45
Whan a' war assembld on the castell green,
Nae man like brave Braikley was ther to be seen.

"Turn back, bruther William, ye are a bridegroom,
* * * * *
We bonnie Jean Gordon, the maid o the mill,
O sichin and sobbin she'll seen get her fill." 50

"I'me nae coward, brither, it's kent I'me a man;
Ile ficht i' your quarral as lang's I can stan.
Ile ficht, my dear brither, wi heart an guid will,
An so will yung Harry that lives at the mill.

"But turn, my dear brither, and nae langer stay. 55
What'll cum o' your ladie, gin Braikley they slay?
What'll cum o' your ladie an' bonny yung son,
O what'll cum o' them when Braikley is gone?"

"I never will turn: do ye think I will fly?
No, here I will ficht, and here I will die." 60

"Strik dogs," cries Inverey, "an ficht till ye're slayn,
For we are four hunder, ye are but four men:
Strik, strik, ye proud boaster, your honor is gone,
Your lans we will plunder, your castell we'll burn."

At the head o' the Etnach the battel began, 65
At little Auchoilzie they killd the first man:
First they killd ane, an syne they killd twa,
They killd gallant Braikley, the flowr o' them a'.

They killd William Gordon and James o' the Knox,
An brave Alexander, the flowr o' Glenmuick: 70
What sichin an moaning war heard i the glen,
For the Baronne o' Braikley, wha basely was slayn!

"Came ye by the castell, an was ye in there?
Saw ye pretty Peggy tearing her hair?"
"Yes, I cam by Braikley, an I gaed in ther, 75
An ther saw his ladie braiding her hair.

"She was rantin, an' dancin, an' singin for joy,
An vowin that nicht she woud feest Inverey:
She eat wi him, drank wi him, welcomd him in,
Was kind to the man that had slayn her baronne." 80

Up spak the son on the nourices knee,[L81]
"Gin I live to be a man revenged Ile be."
Ther's dool i the kitchin, an mirth i the ha,
The Baronne o Braikley is dead an awa.

81. See _Johnie Armstrang_, p. 45.

GILDEROY.

Gilderoy (properly Gilleroy) signifies in Gaelic "the red-haired lad." The person thus denoted was, according to tradition, one Patrick of the proscribed clan Gregor. The following account of him is taken from the _Scot's Musical Museum_, p. 71, vol. iv. ed. of 1853.

"Gilderoy was a notorious freebooter in the highlands of Perthshire, who, with his gang, for a considerable time infested the country, committing the most barbarous outrages on the inhabitants. Some of these ruffians, however, were at length apprehended through the vigilance and activity of the Stewarts of Athol, and conducted to Edinburgh, where they were tried, condemned, and executed, in February, 1638. Gilderoy, seeing his accomplices taken and hanged, went up, and in revenge burned several houses belonging to the Stewarts in Athol. This new act of atrocity was the prelude to his ruin. A proclamation was issued offering [L]1,000 for his apprehension. The inhabitants rose _en masse_, and pursued him from place to place, till at length he, with five more of his associates, was overtaken and secured. They were next carried to Edinburgh, where after trial and conviction, they expiated their offences on the gallows, in the month of July, 1638."

In the vulgar story-books, Gilderoy, besides committing various monstrous and unnatural crimes, enjoys the credit of having picked Cardinal Richelieu's pocket in the King's presence, robbed Oliver Cromwell, and hanged a judge.

The ballad _is said_ to have been composed not long after the death of Gilderoy, "by a young woman of no mean talent, who unfortunately became attached to this daring robber, and had cohabited with him for some time before his being apprehended." A blackletter copy printed in England as early as 1650 has been preserved. Another, with "some slight variations," is contained "in Playford's _Wit and Mirth_, first edition of vol. iii., printed in 1703." The piece is next found in _Pills to purge Melancholy_, v. 39, and, with one different stanza, in _Old Ballads_, i. 271. In the second volume (p. 106) of Thomson's _Orpheus Caledonius_ (1733), it appears with considerable alterations. Lady Elizabeth Wardlaw (_n['e]e_ Halket) undertook a revision of the ballad, and by expunging two worthless stanzas and adding three (those enclosed in brackets), produced the version here given, which is taken from Ritson's _Scotish Songs_, ii. 24. Percy's copy (_Reliques_, i. 335) is the same, with the omission of the ninth stanza, and Herd and Pinkerton have followed Percy.

Gilderoy was a bonny boy,
Had roses tull his shoone;
His stockings were of silken soy,
Wi' garters hanging doune.
It was, I weene, a comelie sight, 5
To see sae trim a boy;
He was my jo and hearts delight,
My handsome Gilderoy.

O sik twa charming een he had,
A breath as sweet as rose; 10
He never ware a Highland plaid,
But costly silken clothes.
He gain'd the luve of ladies gay,
Nane eir tul him was coy:
Ah, wae is me! I mourn the day, 15
For my dear Gilderoy.

My Gilderoy and I were born
Baith in one toun together;
We scant were seven years, beforn
We gan to luve each other; 20
Our dadies and our mammies, thay
Were fill'd wi' mickle joy,
To think upon the bridal day
'Twixt me and Gilderoy.

For Gilderoy, that luve of mine, 25
Gude faith, I freely bought
A wedding sark of holland fine,
Wi' silken flowers wrought;
And he gied me a wedding ring,
Which I receiv'd wi' joy; 30
Nae lad nor lassie eir could sing,
Like me and Gilderoy.

Wi' mickle joy we spent our prime,
Till we were baith sixteen,
And aft we passed the langsome time, 35
Amang the leaves sae green;
Aft on the banks we'd sit us thair,
And sweetly kiss and toy;
Wi' garlands gay wad deck my hair
My handsome Gilderoy. 40

[O that he still had been content
Wi' me to lead his life;
But ah, his manfu' heart was bent
To stir in feates of strife:
And he in many a venturous deed 45
His courage bauld wad try,
And now this gars mine heart to bleed
For my dear Gilderoy.

And whan of me his leave he tuik,
The tears they wat mine ee; 50
I gave tull him a parting luik,
"My benison gang wi' thee!
God speid thee weil, mine ain dear heart,
For gane is all my joy;
My heart is rent sith we maun part, 55
My handsome Gilderoy."]

My Gilderoy, baith far and near,
Was fear'd in every toun,
And bauldly bare away the gear
Of many a lawland loun. 60
Nane eir durst meet him man to man,
He was sae brave a boy;
At length wi' numbers he was tane,
My winsome Gilderoy.

[The Queen of Scots possessed nought 65
That my love let me want,
For cow and ew he 'to me brought,'
And een whan they were skant.
All these did honestly possess
He never did annoy, 70
Who never fail'd to pay their cess
To my love Gilderoy.]

Wae worth the loun that made the laws,
To hang a man for gear;
To reave of live for ox or ass, 75
For sheep, or horse, or mare!
Had not their laws been made sae strick,
I neir had lost my joy,
Wi' sorrow neir had wat my cheek
For my dear Gilderoy. 80

Giff Gilderoy had done amisse,
He mought hae banisht been;
Ah! what sair cruelty is this,
To hang sike handsome men!
To hang the flower o' Scottish land, 85
Sae sweet and fair a boy!
Nae lady had sae white a hand
As thee, my Gilderoy.

Of Gilderoy sae fraid they were,
They bound him mickle strong; 90
Tull Edenburrow they led him thair,
And on a gallows hung:
They hung him high aboon the rest,
He was sae trim a boy;
Thair dyed the youth whom I lued best, 95
My handsome Gilderoy.

Thus having yielded up his breath,
I bare his corpse away;
Wi' tears that trickled for his death
I washt his comelye clay; 100
And siker in a grave sae deep,
I laid the dear-loed boy,
And now for evir maun I weep
My winsome Gilderoy.

ROB ROY.

The subject of this piece is the abduction of a young Scottish lady by a son of the celebrated Rob Roy Macgregor. Sentence of outlawry had been pronounced against this person for not appearing to stand his trial for murder. While under this sentence, he conceived the desperate project of carrying off Jane Kay, heiress of Edinbelly, in Sterlingshire, and obtaining possession of her estate by a forced marriage. Engaging a party of the proscribed Macgregors to assist him in this enterprise, Rob Roy entered the young woman's house with his brother James, tied her, hand and foot, with ropes, and carried her thus on horseback to the abode of one of his clan in Argyleshire, where, after some mock ceremony, she was compelled to submit to his embraces. The place in which the unfortunate woman was detained, was discovered, and she was rescued by her family. Rob Roy and James Macgregor were tried for their lives. The latter escaped from prison, but the principal in this outrage suffered condign punishment in February, 1753.

Fragments of the story were printed in _Select Scotish Songs_, by Robert Burns, edited by R. H. Cromek, ii. 199, and in Maidment's _North Countrie Garland_, p. 44; a complete copy in the _Thistle of Scotland_, p. 93. Chambers has combined the fragments of Burns and Maidment with a third version furnished by Mr. Kinloch, and has produced a ballad which is on the whole the most eligible for this place. (_Scottish Ballads_, p. 175.) In the Appendix may be seen the editions above referred to, and also _Eppie Morrie_, a ballad founded on a similar incident.

This sort of kidnapping seems to have been the commonest occurrence in the world in Scotland. Sharpe has collected not a few cases in his _Ballad Book_, p. 99, and he gives us two stanzas of another ballad.

The Highlandmen hae a' cum down,
They've a' come down almost,
They've stowen away the bonny lass,
The Lady of Arngosk.

Behind her back they've tied her hands,
An' then they set her on;
"I winna gang wi' you," she said,
"Nor ony Highland loon."

* * * * *

Rob Roy frae the Hielands cam
Unto the Lawland Border,
To steal awa a gay ladye,
To haud his house in order.

He cam ower the loch o' Lynn, 5
Twenty men his arms did carry;
Himsell gaed in and fand her out,
Protesting he would marry.

When he cam he surrounded the house,
No tidings there cam before him, 10
Or else the lady would have gone,
For still she did abhor him.

"O will ye gae wi' me?" he says,
"O will ye be my honey?
O will ye be my wedded wife? 15
For I loe ye best of ony."

"I winna gae wi' you," she says,
"I winna be your honey;
I winna be your wedded wife,
Ye loe me for my money." 20

* * * * *

Wi' mournful cries and watery eyes,
Fast hauding by her mother,
Wi' mournful cries and watery eyes,
They were parted frae each other.

He gied her nae time to be dress'd, 25
As ladies do when they're brides,
But he hastened and hurried her awa,
And rowed her in his plaids.

He mounted her upon a horse,
Himsell lap on behind her, 30
And they're awa to the Hieland hills,
Where her friends may never find her.

As they gaed ower the Hieland hills,
The lady aften fainted,
Saying, "Wae be to my cursed gowd, 35
This road to me invented!"

They rade till they came to Ballyshine,
At Ballyshine they tarried;
He brought to her a cotton gown,
Yet ne'er wad she be married. 40

Two held her up before the priest,
Four carried her to bed O;
Maist mournfully she wept and cried,
When she by him was laid O!

[_The tune changes_.]

"O be content, O be content, 45
O be content to stay, lady,
For now ye are my wedded wife
Until my dying day, lady.

"Rob Roy was my father call'd,
Macgregor was his name, lady; 50
He led a band o' heroes bauld,
And I am here the same, lady.

"He was a hedge unto his friends,
A heckle to his foes, lady,
And every one that did him wrang, 55
He took him by the nose, lady.

"I am as bold, I am as bold
As my father was afore, lady;
He that daurs dispute my word
Shall feel my gude claymore, lady. 60

"My father left me cows and yowes,
And sheep, and goats, and a', lady,
And you and twenty thousand merks
Will mak me a man fu' braw, lady."