Chapter VI: Part THE SECOND (1)

Away then hyed the heire of Linne,
Oer hill and holt, and moor and fenne,
Untill he came to [the] lonesome lodge,
That stood so lowe in a lonely glenne.

He looked up, he looked downe, 5
In hope some comfort for to winne;
But bare and lothly were the walles;
"Here's sorry cheare," quo' the heire of Linne.

The little windowe, dim and darke,
Was hung with ivy, brere, and yewe; 10
No shimmering sunn here ever shone,
No halesome breeze here ever blew.

No chair, ne table he mote spye,
No chearful hearth, ne welcome bed,
Nought save a rope with renning noose, 15
That dangling hung up o'er his head.

And over it in broad lettèrs,
These words were written so plain to see:
"Ah! gracelesse wretch, hast spent thine all,
And brought thyselfe to penurie? 20

"All this my boding mind misgave,
I therefore left this trusty friend:
Let it now sheeld thy foule disgrace,
And all thy shame and sorrows end."

Sorely shent wi' this rebuke, 25
Sorely shent was the heire of Linne;
His heart, i-wis, was near to-brast
With guilt and sorrowe, shame and sinne.

Never a word spake the heire of Linne,
Never a word he spake but three: 30
"This is a trusty friend indeed,
And is right welcome unto mee."

Then round his necke the corde he drewe,
And sprang aloft with his bodìe,
When lo! the ceiling burst in twaine, 35
And to the ground come tumbling hee.

Astonyed lay the heire of Linne,
Ne knewe if he were live or dead:
At length he looked, and sawe a bille,
And in it a key of gold so redd. 40

He took the bill, and lookt it on,
Strait good comfort found he there:
Itt told him of a hole in the wall,
In which there stood three chests in-fere.

Two were full of the beaten golde, 45
The third was full of white monèy;
And over them in broad lettèrs
These words were written so plaine to see.

"Once more, my sonne, I sette thee clere;
Amend thy life and follies past; 50
For but thou amend thee of thy life,
That rope must be thy end at last."

"And let it bee," sayd the heire of Linne,
"And let it bee, but if I amend:
For here I will make mine avow, 55
This reade shall guide me to the end."

Away then went with a merry cheare,
Away then went the heire of Linne;
I-wis, he neither ceas'd ne blanne,
Till John o' the Scales house he did winne. 60

And when he came to John o' the Scales,
Upp at the speere then looked hee;
There sate three lords upon a rowe,
Were drinking of the wine so free.

And John himselfe sate at the bord-head, 65
Because now lord of Linne was hee;
"I pray thee," he said, "good John o' the Scales,
"One forty pence for to lend mee."

"Away, away, thou thriftless loone;
Away, away, this may not bee: 70
For Christs curse on my head," he sayd,
"If ever I trust thee one pennie."

Then bespake the heire of Linne,
To John o' the Scales wife then spake he:
"Madame, some almes on me bestowe, 75
I pray for sweet saint Charitie."

"Away, away, thou thriftless loone,
I sweare thou gettest no almes of mee;
For if we should hang any losel heere,
The first we wold begin with thee." 80

Then bespake a good fellòwe,
Which sat at John o' the Scales his bord;
Sayd, "Turn againe, thou heir of Linne;
Some time thou wast a well good lord.

"Some time a good fellow thou hast been, 85
And sparedst not thy gold and fee;
Therefore Ile lend thee forty pence,
And other forty if need bee.

"And ever I pray thee, John o' the Scales,
To let him sit in thy companie: 90
For well I wot thou hadst his land,
And a good bargain it was to thee."

Up then spake him John o' the Scales,
All wood he answer'd him againe:
"Now Christs curse on my head," he sayd, 95
"But I did lose by that bargàine.

"And here I proffer thee, heire of Linne,
Before these lords so faire and free,
Thou shalt have it backe again better cheape
By a hundred markes than I had it of thee."

"I drawe you to record, lords," he said, 100
With that he cast him a gods-pennie:
"Now by my fay," sayd the heire of Linne,
"And here, good John, is thy monèy."

And he pull'd forth three bagges of gold, 105
And layd them down upon the bord;
All woe begone was John o' the Scales,
Soe shent he cold say never a word.

He told him forth the good red gold.
He told it forth [with] mickle dinne. 110
"The gold is thine, the land is mine,
And now Ime againe the lord of Linne."

Sayes, "Have thou here, thou good fellòwe,
Forty pence thou didst lend mee:
Now I am againe the lord of Linne, 115
And forty pounds I will give thee.

"Ile make thee keeper of my forrest,
Both of the wild deere and the tame;
For but I reward thy bounteous heart,
I-wis, good fellowe, I were to blame." 120

"Now welladay!" sayth Joan o' the Scales;
"Now welladay, and woe is my life!
Yesterday I was lady of Linne,
Now Ime but John o' the Scales his wife."

"Now fare thee well," sayd the heire of Linne, 125
"Farewell now, John o' the Scales," said hee:
"Christs curse light on mee, if ever again
I bring my lands in jeopardy."

THE HEIR OF LINNE.

From _Scottish Traditional Versions of Ancient Ballads_, p. 30,
Percy Society, vol. xvii.

The bonny heir, and the weel-faur'd heir,
And the wearie heir o' Linne,
Yonder he stands at his father's yetts,
An naebody bids him come in.

O see for he gangs, an' see for he stands, 5
The wearie heir o' Linne;
O see for he stands on the cauld casey,
And nae an' bids him come in.

But if he had been his father's heir,
Or yet the heir o' Linne, 10
He wou'dna stand on the cauld casey,
Some an' wad taen him in.

"Sing ower again that sang, nourice,
The sang ye sang just noo;"
"I never sang a sang i' my life, 15
But I wad sing ower to you."

O see for he gangs, an' see for he stands,
The wearie heir o' Linne;
O see for he stands on the cauld casey,
An' nae an' bids him come in. 20

But if he had been his father's heir,
Or yet the heir o' Linne,
He wadna stand on the cauld casye,
Some ane wad taen him in.

When his father's lands a sellin' were, 25
His claise lay weel in fauld,
But now he wanders on the shore,
Baith hungry, weet, and cauld.

As Willie he gaed down the toun,
The gentlemen were drinkin'; 30
Some bade gie Willie a glass, a glass,
And some bade him gae nane;
Some bade gie Willie a glass, a glass,
The weary heir o' Linne.

As Willie he cam' up the toun, 35
The fishers were a sittin';
Some bade gie Willie a fish, a fish,
Some bade gie him a fin;
Some bade gie him a fish, a fish,
And lat the palmer gang. 40

He turned him richt and roun' about,
As will as a woman's son,
And taen his cane into his hand,
And on his way to Linne.

His nourice at her window look'd, 45
Beholding dale and doun,
And she beheld this distress'd young man
Come walkin' to the town.

"Come here, come here, Willie," she said,
"And set yoursel' wi me; 50
I hae seen you i' better days,
And in jovial companie."

"Gie me a sheave o' your bread, nourice,
And a bottle o' your wine,
And I'll pay you it a' ower again, 55
When I'm the laird o' Linne."

"Ye'se got a sheave o' my bread, Willie,
"And a bottle o' my wine,[L58]
An' ye'll pay me when the seas gang dry,
But ye'll ne'er be heir o' Linne." 60

Then he turn'd him richt and roun' about,
As will as woman's son;
And aff he set, and bent his way,
And straightway came to Linne.

But when he cam to that castle, 65
They were set doun to dine;
A score o' nobles there he saw,
Sat drinkin' at the wine.

Then some bad' gie him beef, the beef,
And some bad' gie him the bane; 70
And some bad' gie him naething at a',
But lat the palmer gang.

Then out it speaks the new come laird,
A saucie word spak' hee;
"Put roun' the cup, gie my rival a sup, 75
Lat him fare on his way."

Then out it speaks Sir Ned Magnew,
Ane o' young Willie's kin;
"This youth was ance a sprightlie boy
As ever lived in Linne." 80

He turned him richt and roun' about,
As will as woman's son;
Then minded him on a little wee key,
That his mither left to him.

His mither left him this little wee key 85
A little before she deed;
And bad him keep this little wee key
Till he was in maist need.

Then forth he went, an' these nobles left,
A' drinkin' in the room; 90
Wi' walkin' rod intill his hand,
He walked the castle roun'.

There he found out a little door,
For there the wee key slippit in,
An' there he got as muckle red gowd 95
As freed the lands o' Linne.

Back through the nobles then he went,
A saucie man was then;
"I'll tak' the cup frae this new-come laird,
For he ne'er bad me sit doun." 100

Then out it speaks the new-come laird,
He spak' wi' mock an' jeer;
"I'd gie a seat to the laird o' Linne,
Sae be that he were here.

"When the lands o' Linne a sellin' were, 105
A' men said they were free;
This lad shall hae them frae me this day,
If he'll gie the third pennie."

"I tak' ye witness, nobles a',
Gude witnesses ye'll be; 110
I'm promis'd the lands o' Linne this day,
If I gie the third pennie."

"Ye've taen us witnesses, Willie," they said,
"Gude witnesses we'll be;
Buy the lands o' Linne who likes, 115
They'll ne'er be bought by thee."

He's done him to a gamin' table,
For it stood fair and clean;
There he tauld doun as much rich gowd
As freed the lands o' Linne. 120

Thus having done, he turn'd about,
A saucie man was he;
"Tak' up your monie, my lad," he says,
"Tak' up your third pennie.

"Aft hae I gane wi' barefeet cauld, 125
Likewise wi' legs fu' bare,
And mony day walk'd at these yetts
Wi' muckle dool an' care.

"But now my sorrow's past and gane,
And joy's returned to me; 130
And here I've gowd enough forbye,
Ahin this third pennie."

As Willie he gaed doun the toun,
There he craw'd wonderous crouse;
He ca'd the may afore them a', 135
The nourice o' the house.

"Come here, come here, my nurse," he says,
"I'll pay your bread and wine;
Seas ebb and flow as they wont to do,
Yet I'm the laird o' Linne." 140

An' he gaed up the Gallowgate port,
His hose aboon his shoon;
But lang ere he cam down again
Was convoyed by lords fifteen.

58. your wine.

THE WANDERING JEW.

In the year 1228, we are informed by Matthew Paris, an Armenian archbishop visited England, with letters from the Pope, to make the tour of the holy places. During a sojourn at the monastery of St. Albans, he was asked by one of the brethren if he knew anything of the famous Joseph, so much spoken of, who had been present at the crucifixion, and was still living as a witness to the truth of the Christian faith. The archbishop responded that the fact was indeed as reported, and one of his retinue added, that his master had personally known this extraordinary character, and had admitted him to his table only a short time before setting out for the West; that he had been porter to Pontius Pilate, and was named Cartaphilus; that when the Jews were dragging Christ from the judgment-hall, he had struck him in the back with his fist, saying, "Go faster, Jesus: why dost thou tarry?"--whereupon Christ turned to him and said, "I go, but thou shalt tarry till my coming." After the death of Jesus, Cartaphilus had been converted, and baptized by Ananias, under the name of Joseph. Still the sentence pronounced upon him by the Saviour was not revoked, and he remained in the world, awaiting the Lord's second advent, living in Armenia, or some other country of the East. Whenever he reached the age of a hundred, he fell into a trance, and when he revived, found himself again about thirty years old, as he had been at the epoch of Christ's suffering.

This story Matthew Paris heard at St. Albans, of which monastery he was himself a brother, a few years after the memorable visit of the Armenian prelate. His contemporary, Philippe Mouskes, Bishop of Tournay, has incorporated the substance of his narrative into his rhymed chronicle, edited by the Baron de Reiffenberg, v. 25524, et seq. We hear nothing more of the Wandering Jew from this time until the middle of the 16th century, when he presents himself at Hamburgh, (in 1547,) calling himself Ahasuerus, who had been a shoemaker at Jerusalem. The ballad which follows is founded upon some narrative of this event, many of which were published. It will be noticed that in the second form of the legend, the punishment of perpetual existence, which gives rise to the old names, _Judæus non mortalis_, _Ewiger Jude_, is aggravated by a condemnation to incessant change of place, which is indicated by a corresponding name, _Wandering Jew_, _Juif Errant_, etc.

It is unnecessary, and would be impossible, to specify the various times and places at which the Wandering Jew has successively reappeared. The legend being firmly believed by the vulgar throughout Christendom, an opportunity for imposture was afforded which could not fail to be improved. The last recorded apparition was at Brussels, in April, 1774, and on this occasion the wanderer had again changed his name to Isaac Laquedem. Of the origin of the tradition we know nothing. M. Lacroix has suggested that it took its rise in a grand and beautiful allegory in which the Hebrew race were personified under the figure of the Everlasting Wanderer. See Calmet's _Bible Dictionary_, Grässe, _Die Sage vom Ewigen Juden_, Dresden and Leipsic, 1844, Paul Lacroix's Bibliographical Preface to Doré's Designs, _La Légende du Juif Errant, etc._ Paris, 1856.

This ballad is taken from Percy's _Reliques_, ii. 317, and was from a black-letter copy in the Pepys collection.

When as in faire Jerusalem
Our Saviour Christ did live,
And for the sins of all the worlde
His own deare life did give,
The wicked Jewes with scoffes and scornes 5
Did dailye him molest,
That never till he left his life,
Our Saviour could not rest.

When they had crown'd his head with thornes,
And scourg'd him to disgrace, 10
In scornfull sort they led him forthe
Unto his dying place,
Where thousand thousands in the streete
Beheld him passe along,
Yet not one gentle heart was there, 15
That pityed this his wrong.

Both old and young reviled him,
As in the streete he wente,
And nought he found but churlish tauntes,
By every ones consente: 20
His owne deare cross he bore himselfe,
A burthen far too great,
Which made him in the streete to fainte,
With blood and water sweat.

Being weary thus, he sought for rest, 25
To ease his burthened soule,
Upon a stone; the which a wretch
Did churlishly controule;
And sayd, "Awaye, thou King of Jewes,
Thou shalt not rest thee here; 30
Pass on; thy execution place
Thou seest nowe draweth neare."

And thereupon he thrust him thence;
At which our Saviour sayd,
"I sure will rest, but thou shalt walke, 35
And have no journey stayed."
With that this cursed shoemaker,
For offering Christ this wrong,
Left wife and children, house and all,
And went from thence along. 40

Where after he had seene the bloude
Of Jesus Christ thus shed,
And to the crosse his bodye nail'd,
Awaye with speed he fled,
Without returning backe againe 45
Unto his dwelling place,
And wandred up and downe the worlde,
A runnagate most base.

No resting could he finde at all,
No ease, nor hearts content; 50
No house, nor home, nor biding place;
But wandring forth he went
From towne to towne in foreigne landes,
With grieved conscience still,
Repenting for the heinous guilt 55
Of his fore-passed ill.

Thus after some fewe ages past
In wandring up and downe,
He much again desired to see
Jerusalems renowne. 60
But finding it all quite destroyd,
He wandred thence with woe,
Our Saviours wordes, which he had spoke,
To verifie and showe.

"I'll rest," sayd hee, "but thou shalt walke;" 65
So doth this wandring Jew,
From place to place, but cannot rest
For seeing countries newe;
Declaring still the power of him,
Whereas he comes or goes; 70
And of all things done in the east,
Since Christ his death, he showes.

The world he hath still compast round
And seene those nations strange,
That hearing of the name of Christ, 75
Their idol gods doe change:
To whom he hath told wondrous thinges
Of time forepast and gone,
And to the princes of the worlde
Declares his cause of moane: 80

Desiring still to be dissolv'd,
And yeild his mortal breath;
But, if the Lord hath thus decreed,
He shall not yet see death.
For neither lookes he old nor young, 85
But as he did those times,
When Christ did suffer on the crosse
For mortall sinners crimes.

He hath past through many a foreigne place,
Arabia, Egypt, Africa, 90
Grecia, Syria, and great Thrace,
And throughout all Hungaria:
Where Paul and Peter preached Christ,
Those blest apostles deare,
There he hath told our Saviours wordes, 95
In countries far and neare.

And lately in Bohemia,
With many a German towne,
And now in Flanders, as 'tis thought,
He wandreth up and downe: 100
Where learned men with him conferre
Of those his lingering dayes,
And wonder much to heare him tell
His journeyes and his wayes.

If people give this Jew an almes, 105
The most that he will take
Is not above a groat a time:
Which he, for Jesus' sake,
Will kindlye give unto the poore,
And thereof make no spare, 110
Affirming still that Jesus Christ
Of him hath dailye care.

He ne'er was seene to laugh nor smile,
But weepe and make great moane;
Lamenting still his miseries, 115
And dayes forepast and gone.
If he heare any one blaspheme,
Or take God's name in vaine,
He telles them that they crucifie
Their Saviour Christe againe. 120

"If you had seene his death," saith he,
"As these mine eyes have done,
Ten thousand thousand times would yee
His torments think upon,
And suffer for his sake all paine 125
Of torments, and all woes:"
These are his wordes, and eke his life,
Whereas he comes or goes.

PROUD LADY MARGARET.

From _Minstrelsy of the Scotish Border_, iii. 32. This copy of the ballad is imperfect. A complete version is inserted in the Appendix from Buchan's _Ballads of the North of Scotland_, i. 91. There is another, also defective, called _The Bonny Hind Squire_, in _Scottish Traditional Versions of Ancient Ballads_, p. 42, Percy Soc. vol. xvii.

'Twas on a night, an evening bright,
When the dew began to fa',
Lady Margaret was walking up and down,
Looking o'er her castle wa'.

She looked east, and she looked west, 5
To see what she could spy,
When a gallant knight came in her sight,
And to the gate drew nigh.

"You seem to be no gentleman,
You wear your boots so wide; 10
But you seem to be some cunning hunter,
You wear the horn so syde."

"I am no cunning hunter," he said,
"Nor ne'er intend to be;
But I am come to this castle 15
To seek the love of thee;
And if you do not grant me love,
This night for thee I'll die."

"If you should die for me, sir knight,
There's few for you will mane, 20
For mony a better has died for me
Whose graves are growing green.

"But ye maun read my riddle," she said,
"And answer me questions three;
And but ye read them right," she said, 25
"Gae stretch ye out and die.

"Now what is the flower, the ae first flower,
Springs either on moor or dale?
And what is the bird, the bonnie bonnie bird,
Sings on the evening gale?" 30

"The primrose is the ae first flower
Springs either on moor or dale;
And the thristlecock is the bonniest bird
Sings on the evening gale."

"But what's the little coin," she said, 35
"Wald buy my castle bound?
And what's the little boat," she said,
"Can sail the world all round?"

"O hey, how mony small pennies
Make thrice three thousand pound? 40
Or hey, how mony small fishes
Swim a' the salt sea round?"

"I think ye maun be my match," she said,
"My match and something mair;
You are the first e'er got the grant 45
Of love frae my father's heir.

"My father was lord of nine castles,
My mother lady of three;
My father was lord of nine castles,
And there's nane to heir but me. 50

"And round about a' thae castles,
You may baith plow and saw,
And on the fifteenth day of May
The meadows they will maw."

"O hald your tongue, Lady Margaret," he said, 55
"For loud I hear you lie!
Your father was lord of nine castles,
Your mother was lady of three;
Your father was lord of nine castles,
But ye fa' heir to but three. 60

"And round about a' thae castles,
You may baith plow and saw,
But on the fifteenth day of May
The meadows will not maw.

"I am your brother Willie," he said, 65
"I trow ye ken na me;
I came to humble your haughty heart,
Has gar'd sae mony die."

"If ye be my brother Willie," she said;
"As I trow weel ye be, 70
This night I'll neither eat nor drink,
But gae alang wi' thee."

"O hald your tongue, Lady Margaret," he said,
"Again I hear you lie;
For ye've unwashen hands, and ye've unwashen feet, 75
To gae to clay wi' me.[L76]

"For the wee worms are my bedfellows,
And cauld clay is my sheets,
And when the stormy winds do blow,
My body lies and sleeps." 80

REEDISDALE AND WISE WILLIAM.

MOTHERWELL's _Minstrelsy_, p. 298, and Buchan's _Ballads of the North of Scotland_, ii. 70: from recitation.

When Reedisdale and Wise William
Was drinking at the wine,
There fell a roosing them amang,
On one unruly time.

For some of them has roosed their hawks, 5
And other some their hounds;
And other some their ladies fair,
And their bow'rs whare they walk'd in.

When out it spak him Reedisdale,
And a rash word spake he: 10
Says, "There is not a lady fair,
In bower wherever she be,
But I could aye her favour win,
With one blink of my e'e."

Then out it spak him Wise William, 15
And a rash word spak he:
Says, "I have a sister of my own,
In bower wherever she be,
And ye will not her favour win,
With three blinks of your e'e." 20

"What will you wager, Wise William?
My lands I'll wad with thee:"
"I'll wad my head against your land,
Till I get more monie."

Then Reedisdale took Wise William, 25
Laid him in prison strang;
That he might neither gang nor ride,
Nor no word to her send.

But he has written a braid letter,
Between the night and day, 30
And sent it to his own sister,
By dun feather and gray.

When she had read Wise William's letter,
She smiled and she leuch:
Said, "Very weel, my dear brother, 35
Of this I have eneuch."

She looked out at her west window,
To see what she could see,
And there she spied him Reedisdale,
Come riding o'er the lea. 40

Says, "Come to me, my maidens all,
Come hitherward to me;
For here it comes him Reedisdale,
Who comes a-courting me."

"Come down, come down, my lady fair, 45
A sight of you give me:"
"Go from my yetts now, Reedisdale,
For me you will not see."

"Come down, come down, my lady fair,
A sight of you give me; 50
And bonnie is the gowns of silk
That I will give to thee."

"If you have bonnie gowns of silk,
O mine is bonnie tee;
Go from my yetts now, Reedisdale, 55
For me you shall not see."

"Come down, come down, my lady fair,
A sight of you I'll see;
And bonnie jewels, broaches, rings,
I will give unto thee." 60

"If you have bonnie broaches, rings,
O mine are bonnie tee;
Go from my yetts now, Reedisdale,
For me you shall not see."

"Come down, come down, my lady fair, 65
One sight of you I'll see;
And bonnie is the halls and bowers
That I will give to thee."

"If you have bonnie halls and bowers,
O mine is bonnie tee; 70
Go from my yetts now, Reedisdale,
For me you shall not see."

"Come down, come down, my lady fair,
A sight of you I'll see;
And bonnie is my lands so broad 75
That I will give to thee."

"If you have bonnie lands so broad,
O mine is bonnie tee;
Go from my yetts now, Reedisdale,
For me you will not see." 80

"Come down, come down, my lady fair
A sight of you I'll see;
And bonnie is the bags of gold
That I will give to thee."

"If you have bonnie bags of gold, 85
I have bags of the same;
Go from my yetts now, Reedisdale,
For down I will not come."

"Come down, come down, my lady fair,
One sight of you I'll see; 90
Or else I'll set your house on fire,
If better cannot be."

Then he has set the house on fire,
And all the rest it took;
He turned his wight horse head about, 95
Said, "Alas! they'll ne'er get out."

"Look out, look out, my maidens fair,
And see what I do see;
How Reedisdale has fired our house,
And now rides o'er the lea. 100

"Come hitherward, my maidens fair,
Come hither unto me;
For through this reek, and through this smeek,
O through it we must be."

They took wet mantles them about, 105
Their coffers by the band;
And through the reek, and through the flame,
Alive they all have wan.

When they had got out through the fire,
And able all to stand, 110
She sent a maid to Wise William,
To bruik Reedisdale's land.

"Your lands is mine, now, Reedisdale,
For I have won them free:"
"If there is a good woman in the world, 115
Your one sister is she."

76. _Unwashen hands and unwashen feet._--Alluding to the custom of washing and dressing dead bodies. S.

GEORDIE.

From the _Musical Museum_, p. 357.

"Geordie, an old Ballad," was first printed in Johnson's _Museum_, from a copy furnished by Burns. The occasion of the ballad has not been satisfactorily determined. In the opinion of Mr. Kinloch, it is to be found in the factions of the family of Huntly during the reign of Queen Mary. George Gordon, Earl of Huntly, having been sent by the Queen to apprehend a notorious robber, was thought not to have been faithful to his trust. He returned without accomplishing the object of his expedition, and was committed to prison because of his failure. Some of the Queen's council were in favor of banishing him to France, others of putting him to death, but he was released, on condition of paying a fine and performing certain other stipulations. Motherwell states that there is much variation in the recited copies of this piece, and mentions one styled _Geordie Luklie_. Kinloch prints a version not materially different from that of the _Museum_. Allan Cunningham has reprinted the Museum copy with less change than is customary with him; _Songs of Scotland_, ii. 186. We give in the Appendix a ballad from Buchan, called _Gight's Lady_, which contains a story widely diverse from that which follows. In Ritson's _Northumberland Garland_, p. 43, there is a "lamentable ditty" on the death of one George Stoole, which appears to be an imitation of the Scottish ballad.

There was a battle in the north,
And nobles there was many,
And they hae kill'd Sir Charlie Hay,
And they laid the wyte on Geordie.

O he has written a lang letter, 5
He sent it to his lady;
"Ye maun cum up to Enbrugh town,
To see what word's o' Geordie."

When first she look'd the letter on
She was baith red and rosy, 10
But she had na read a word but twa,
Till she wallow't like a lily.

"Gar get to me my gude grey steed,
My menzie a' gae wi' me,
For I shall neither eat nor drink, 15
Till Enbrugh town shall see me."

And she has mountit her gude grey steed
Her menzie a' gaed wi' her;
And she did neither eat nor drink,
Till Enbrugh town did see her.[L20] 20

And first appear'd the fatal block,
And syne the aix to head him,
And Geordie cumin down the stair,
And bands o' airn upon him.

But tho' he was chain'd in fetters strang, 25
O' airn and steel sae heavy,
There was na ane in a' the court,
Sae bra' a man as Geordie.

O she's down on her bended knee,
I wat she's pale and weary,-- 30
"O pardon, pardon, noble king,
And gie me back my dearie.

"I hae born seven sons to my Geordie dear,
The seventh ne'er saw his daddie;
O pardon, pardon, noble king, 35
Pity a waefu' lady!"

"Gar bid the headin-man mak haste,"
Our king reply'd fu' lordly;--
"O noble king, tak a' that's mine,
But gie me back my Geordie." 40

The Gordons cam, and the Gordons ran,
And they were stark and steady;
And ay the word amang them a',
Was, "Gordons, keep you ready."

An aged lord at the king's right hand, 45
Says, "Noble king, but hear me;
Gar her tell down five thousand pound,
And gie her back her dearie."

Some gae her marks, some gae her crowns,
Some gae her dollars many; 50
And she's tell'd down five thousand pound,
And she's gotten again her dearie.

She blinkit blythe in her Geordie's face,
Says, "Dear I've bought thee, Geordie;
But there sud been bluidy bouks on the green, 55
Or I had tint my laddie."

He claspit her by the middle sma',
And he kist her lips sae rosy;
"The fairest flower o' woman-kind,
Is my sweet, bonnie lady!" 60

20. Cunningham here inserts a stanza "from the recitation of Mrs. Cunningham," which is not in the other printed copies:

And soon she came to the water broad,
Nor boat nor barge was ready;
She turned her horse's head to the flood,
And swam through at Queensferry.

GEORDIE.

Kinloch's _Ancient Scottish Ballads_, p. 192.

There was a battle in the North,
And rebels there were monie;
And monie ane got broken heads,
And taken was my Geordie.

_My Geordie O, my Geordie O,_ 5
_O the love I bear to Geordie;_
_For the very grund I walk upon,_
_Bears witness I loe Geordie._

As she gaed up the tolbooth stair,
The cripples there stood monie; 10
And she dealt the red gowd them among,
To pray for her love Geordie.

And whan she cam into the hall,
The nobles there stood monie;
And ilka ane stood hat on head, 15
But hat in hand stood Geordie.

Up bespak a Norlan lord,
I wat he spak na bonnie,--
"If ye'll stay here a little while,
Ye'll see Geordie hangit shortly." 20

Then up bespak a baron bold,
And O but he spak bonnie,--
"If ye'll pay doun five hundred crowns,
Ye'se get your true-love Geordie."

Some lent her guineas, some lent her crowns, 25
Some lent her shillings monie;
And she's paid doun five hundred crowns,
And she's gotten her bonnie love Geordie.

When she was mounted on her hie steed,
And on ahint her Geordie, 30
Nae bird on the brier e'er sang sae clear,
As the young knight and his ladie.

_"My Geordie O, my Geordie O,_
_O the love I bear to Geordie;_
_The very stars in the firmament_ 35
_Bear tokens I loe Geordie."_

THE GABERLUNZIE-MAN.

Tea-Table Miscellany, i. 104; _Old Ballads_, iii. 259.

It is tradition that King James the Fifth of Scotland was in the habit of wandering about his dominions in disguise, and engaging in amours with country girls. One of these is thought to be described in the witty ballad of _The Jolly Beggar_, (Herd's _Scotish Songs_, ii. 164, Ritson's _Scotish Songs_, i. 168,) and another in _The Gaberlunzie-Man_, both of which are universally attributed (though without evidence) to James's pen. The character of James V., it has been remarked (_Gent. Mag._ Oct. 1794, p. 913,) resembled both in licentiousness and genius, that of the troubadour sovereign, William the Ninth, Count of Poitiers, who appears to have had the same vagrant habits.

With _The Jolly Beggar_ may be compared _Der Bettelmann_, in Hoffmann's _Schlesische Volkslieder_, p. 45.

The pawky auld carle came o'er the lee,
Wi' many goode'ens and days to me,
Saying, "Goodwife, for your courtesie,
"Will you lodge a silly poor man?"
The night was cauld, the carle was wat, 5
And down ayont the ingle he sat;
My daughters shoulders he gan to clap,
And cadgily ranted and sang.

"O wow!" quo' he, "were I as free,
As first when I saw this country, 10
How blyth and merry wad I be,
And I wad never think lang."
He grew canty, and she grew fain,
But little did her auld minny ken,
What thir slee twa togither were say'ng, 15
When wooing they were sae thrang.

"And O!" quo' he, "ann ye were as black,
As e'er the crown of my dady's hat,
'Tis I wad lay thee by my back,
And awa' wi' me thou shou'd gang." 20
"And O!" quo' she, "ann I were as white,
As e'er the snaw lay on the dyke,
I'd clead me braw, and lady-like,
And awa with thee I'd gang."

Between the twa was made a plot; 25
They raise a wee before the cock,
And wilily they shot the lock,
And fast to the bent are they gane.
Up the morn the auld wife raise,
And at her leisure pat on her claise; 30
Syne to the servant's bed she gaes,
To speer for the silly poor man.

She gaed to the bed where the beggar lay,
The strae was cauld, he was away;
She clapt her hands, cry'd "Waladay! 35
For some of our gear will be gane."
Some ran to coffers, and some to kists,
But nought was stown that cou'd be mist:
She danc'd her lane, cry'd, "Praise be blest!
I have lodg'd a leal poor man. 40

"Since nathing's awa', as we can learn,
The kirn's to kirn, and milk to earn;
Gae butt the house, lass, and waken my bairn,
And bid her come quickly ben."
The servant gade where the daughter lay, 45
The sheets was cauld, she was away;
And fast to her goodwife can say,
"She's aff with the gaberlunzie-man."

"O fy gar ride, and fy gar rin,
And haste ye, find these traytors again; 50
For she's be burnt, and he's be slain,
The wearifu' gaberlunzie-man."
Some rade upo' horse, some ran a-fit,
The wife was wood, and out o' her wit;
She cou'd na gang, nor yet cou'd she sit, 55
But ay she curs'd and she ban'd.

Mean time far hind out o'er the lee,
Fu' snug in a glen, where nane cou'd see,
The twa, with kindly sport and glee,
Cut frae a new cheese a whang. 60
The priving was good, it pleas'd them baith;
To lo'e her for aye he gae her his aith;
Quo' she, "To leave thee, I will be laith,
My winsome gaberlunzie-man.

"O kend my minny I were wi' you, 65
Illfardly wad she crook her mou;
Sic a poor man she'd never trow,
After the gaberlunzie-man."
"My dear," quo' he, "ye're yet o'er young,
And ha' na lear'd the beggars tongue, 70
To follow me frae town to town,
And carry the gaberlunzie on.

"Wi' cauk and keel, I'll win your bread,
And spindles and whorles for them wha need,
Whilk is a gentil trade indeed, 75
To carry the gaberlunzie, O.
I'll bow my leg, and crook my knee,
And draw a black clout o'er my eye;
A cripple or blind they will ca' me,
While we shall be merry and sing."

THE TURNAMENT OF TOTENHAM.

_The Turnament of Totenham_ was first printed in the _History of Totenham_, (1631,) by the Rev. Wilhelm Bedwell, rector of the parish, who, says Percy, "so little entered into the spirit of the poem he was publishing, that he contends for its being a serious narrative of a real event, and thinks it must have been written before the time of Edward III., because turnaments were prohibited in that reign." The simple parson derived his copy from a manuscript lent him by George Withers. In the first edition of the _Reliques_, Percy reprinted Bedwell's text, with some conjectural emendations, but for the revised edition he employed a manuscript in the Harleian collection (No. 5396), pointed out to him by Tyrwhitt. This manuscript is thought to have been written in the reign of Henry VI. Since the publication of the Harleian text, the manuscript used by Bedwell has been found in the Public Library of the University of Cambridge, (Ff. 5, 48,) and a correct copy published by Mr. Wright in a miniature volume. We have given this last text, as on the whole the best, though in places it requires emendation from the Harleian copy. The Cambridge manuscript (the same as that which contains the ballad of _Robin Hood and the Monk_,) Mr. Wright believes to have been written as early as the reign of Edward II. In this MS. there is subjoined to the _Turnament_ an extravagantly burlesque account of the feast mentioned in the last stanzas.

Percy's copy will be found in the _Reliques_, ii. 13. Ritson's (_Ancient English Songs_, i. 85,) is nearly identical.

This ballad, it has been observed, appears to be "a burlesque upon the old feudal custom of marrying an heiress to the knight who should vanquish all his opponents, at a solemn assembly holden for that purpose." See the remarks in the _Gentleman's Magazine_ for July, 1794, p. 613.

Of alle these kene conqueroures to carpe is oure kynde;
Off fel feghtyng folke ferly we fynde;
The turnament of Totenham have I in mynde;
Hit were harme sich hardynesse were holdyn behynde,
In story as we rede 5
Off Hawkyn, of Harry,
Off Tymkyn, of Tyrry,
Off thaym that were duzty
And hardy in dede.

Hit befel in Totenham on a dere day, 10
Ther was made a shurtyng be the hye way;
Thider come alle the men of that contray,
Off Hisselton, of Hygate, and of Hakenay,
And alle the swete swynkers:
Ther hoppyd Hawkyn, 15
Ther dawnsid Dawkyn,
Ther trumpyd Tymkyn,
And [all] were true drynkers.[L18]

Tille the day was gon and evesong paste,
That thai shulde reckyn thaire skot and thaire counts caste: 20
Perkyn the potter in to the prees paste,
And seid, "Rondill the refe, a dozter thu haste,
Tibbe thi dere.
Therfor fayne wete wolde I,[L24-27]
Whether these felows or I, 25
Or which of alle this bachelery,
Were the best worthy to wed hir to his fere."

Upsterte the gadlyngs with thaire lang staves,
And seid, "Rondyll the refe, lo, this lad raves;
How prudly among us thy dozter he craves; 30
And we ar richer men then he, and more gode haves,
Off catell and of corne."
Then seid Perkyn, "To Tibbe I have hyzt,
That I will be alle wey redy in my rizt,
With a fleyle for to fyght, this day seven nyzt,[L35-36] 35
And thouz hit were to morne."[L36]

Then seid Rondill the refe, "Ever be he waryd
That aboute this carpyng lenger wolde be taryd:
I wolde not my dozter that she were myskaryd,
But at hir moost worship I wolde she were maryd. 40
[Ther]ffor the turnament shalle begynne[L41]
This day seven nyzt,
With a flayle for to fyzt:
And he that is moste of myzt
Shalle brok hir with wynne. 45

"He that berys hym best in the turnament,
Him shal be grauntid the gre be the comyn assent,[L47]
Ffor to wynne my dozter with duztynesse of dent,
And Coppull, my brode hen, that was brozt out of Kent,
And my donned cow. 50
Ffor no spence will I spare,
Ffor no catell wille I care;
He shalle have my gray mare,
And my spottyd sowe."

Ther was mony a bolde lad theire bodys to bede: 55
Than thei toke theire leve and hamwarde thei zede,
And alle the weke afterward thei graythed her wede,
Tille hit come to the day that thei shulde do thaire dede.
Thei armyd theym in mattes,
Thei sett on theire nolles 60
Gode blake bolles,
Ffor to kepe theire pollis
Ffor batteryng of battes.

Thei sewed hem in schepe skynnes, for thei shuld not brest,
And everilkon of hem a blac hatte in stidde of a crest,[L65] 65
A baskett or a panyer before on thaire brest,
And a flayle in theire honde; for to fyzt prest,
Forth con thei fare.
Ther was kid mycull fors,
Who shulde best fend his cors; 70
He that hade no gode hors,
Borowyd hym a mare.[L72]

Sich another clothyng have I not sene ofte,[L73]
When alle the gret cumpany come ridand to the crofte;
Tibbe on a gray mare was sett up on lofte; 75
Upon a secke full of senvye, for she shuld sitt softe,
And ledde tille the gappe:
Fforther wold she not than,[L78-81]
For the luf of no man,
Tille Coppull, hir brode hen, 80
Were brozt in to hir lappe.

A gay gyrdull Tibbe hade [on], borowed for the nones,[L82]
And a garland on hir hed, full of ruell bones,
And a broch on hir brest, full of saphre stones,
The holy rode tokynyng was writon for the nones:[L85] 85
For no spendyng they [had] spare[d].[L86]
When joly Jeynken wist hir thare,
He gurde so fast his gray mare,
That she lete a fowkyn fare
At the rerewarde. 90

"I make a vow," quod Tibbe, "Coppull is comyn of kynde;[L91-99]
I shalle falle fyve in the felde, and I my flayle fynde."
"I make a vow," quod Hudde, "I shalle not leve behynde;
May I mete with Lyarde, or Bayarde the blynde,
I wot I schalle theym greve." 95
"I make a vow," quod Haukyn,
"May I mete with Daukyn,
Ffor alle his rich kyn,
His flayle I shalle hym reve."

"I make a vow," quod Gregge, "Tib, [son] thu shal se 100
Which of alle the bachelery grauntid is the gre.
I shalle skomfet hem alle, for the luf of thé,
In what place that I come, thei shall have dout of me.
Ffor I am armyd at the fole;[L104-108]
In myn armys I ber well 105
A doz troz and a pele,
A sadull withowt panele,
With a flece of wole."

"Now go down," quod Dudman, "and bere me bet abowte:[L109-117]
I make a vow thei shall abye that I fynde owte. 110
Have I twyse or thrise riden thruz the rowte,
In what place that I come, of me thei shall ha[ve] doute.
Myn armys bene so clere:
I bar a ridell and a rake,
Poudurt with the brenyng drake, 115
And thre cantels of a cake
In ilke a cornere."

"I make a vow," quod Tirry, "and swere be my crede,
Saw thu never yong boy forther his body bede:
Ffor when thei fyzt fastest, and most er in drede, 120
I shalle take Tib be the hond and away hir lede.
Then byn myn armys best:[L122-126]
I ber a pilch of ermyn,
Poudert with a catt skyn;
The chefe is of pechmyn, 125
That stondis on the creste."

"I make a vow," quod Dudman, "and swere be the stra,
Whils me ys left my mer, thu gets hir not swa.[L128]
For she is wel shapyn, as lizt as a ra;
Ther is no capull in this myle before her will ga. 130
She wil me not begyle;
I dar sothely say,[L132-3]
She will be[re me] on Monday
Ffro Hissiltoun to Haknay,
Nozt other halfe myle." 135

"I make a vow," quod Perkyn, "thu carpis of cold rost.
I wil wyrke wiselier without any boost.
Ffyve of the best capuls that ar in this host,
I will hem lede away be another coost:"
And then lowz Tibbe. 140
"Weloo, boyes, here is he[L141]
That will fyzt and not fle:
Ffor I am in my jolyté:
I go forth, Tibbe."[L144]

When thai had thaire othes made, forth can thei hie,[L145] 145
With flayles and harnys and trumpis made of tre.
Ther were all the bachilers of that contre:
Thei were dizt in aray, as thaim self wolde be.
Theire baner was ful bryzt,
Off an olde raton fell;[L150-151] 150
The chefe was of a ploo-mell,
And the schadow of a bell,
Quarterd with the mone lizt.[L153]

I wot it was no childer gamme when thei to geder mett,
When ilke a freke in the felde on his felow bette, 155
And leid on stifly--for no thyng wold thei lett--
And fozt ferly fast, til theyre hors swett.
And few wordis were spokyn.
Ther were flayles al to-flaterde,[L159-161]
Ther were scheldis al to-claterde, 160
Bolles and disshis al to-baterde,
And mony hedis ther were brokyn.

Ther was clenkyng of cart sadils, and clatering of cannes;
Off fel frekis in the feeld brokyn were thaire fannes;
Off sum were the hedis brokyn, of sum the brayn pannes, 165
And evel were they besene er they went thannes,
With swippyng of swipylles.
The laddis were so wery forfozt,
That thai myzt fyzt no more on loft,
But creppid aboute in the crofte, 170
As thei were crokid crypils.

Perkyn was so wery that he began to lowte:
"Helpe, Hudde, I am ded in this ilke rowte;
An hors, for forty penys, a gode and a stoute,
That I may liztly cum of my [noye] owte.[L175] 175
Ffor no cost wil I spare."
He stert up as a snayle,
And hent a capull be the tayle,
And rauzt of Daukyn his flayle,
And wan hym a mare. 180

"Perkyn wan fyve, and Hudde wan twa.
Glad and blith thai were that thei had don sa;
Thai wolde have thaim to Tibbe, and present hir with tha;
The capuls were so wery that thei myzt not ga,
But stille can thei stonde. 185
"Alas!" quod Hud, "my joye I lese:
Me had lever then a ston of chese
That dere Tibbe had alle these,
And wist hit were my sonde."

Perkyn turnyd hym aboute in that ilke throng; 190
He fouzt fresshly, for he had rest hym long.[L191-194]
He was war of Tirry take Tib be the hond,
And wold have lad hir away with a luf-song;
And Perkyn after ran,
And of his capull he hym drowe, 195
And gaf hym of his flayle inowe.
Then "Te he," quod Tib, and lowe:
"Ze ar a duzty man."

Thus thai tuggat and thei ruggat, til hit was ny nyzt.
Alle the wyves of Totenham come to se that sizt, 200
To fech home thaire husbondis that were thaym trouthe-plizt,[L201-207]
With wispys and kexis, that was a rich lizt,
Her husbondis home to fech.
And sum they had in armys,
That were febull wreches, 205
And sum on whelebarowes,
And sum on criches.

They gedurt Perkyn aboute on every side,
And graunt hym ther the gre, the more was his pride.
Tib and he with gret myrth hamward can ride, 210
And were al nyzt togedur til the morow tide.
And to chirch thay went.[L212]
So wel his nedis he hase spedde,
That dere Tibbe he shall wedde;
The chefe men that hir thider ledde[L215] 215
Were of the turnament.

To that rich fest come mony for the nonys;
Sum come hiphalt, and sum trippande thither on the stonys;
Sum with a staffe in his honde, and sum too at onys;
Of sum were the hedis brokyn, of sum the schulder bonys. 220
With sorow come they thidur.
Woo was Hawkyn, wo was Harry,
Woo was Tomkyn, woo was Tirry,
And so was al the company,[L224-225]
But zet thei come togeder. 225

At that fest were thei servyd in a rich aray:[L226]
Every fyve and fyve had a cokeney.
And so they sate in jolite al the long daye;
Tibbe at nyzt, I trow, hade a sympull aray.[L229]
Micull myrth was thaym among: 230
In every corner of the howse
Was melodye deliciouse,
Ffor to here preciouse,
Off six mennys song.

18. _sic_ MS. Harl. according to Percy.

24-27. MS. Harl.

Therfor faine wyt wold I,
Whych of all thys bachelery
Were best worthye
To wed hur to hys fere.

v. 27 should be divided into two.

35-36. MS. Harl.

If that it schuld be thys day sevenyzt,
Or elles zet to morn.

36. Wright. tomorowe.

41. _sic_ MS. Harl.

47. Wright, He.

65. MS. Harl. Ilk on toke a blak hat.

72. MS. Harl. He gat hym a mare.

73. MS. Harl. gadryng.

78-81. MS. Harl.

For cryeng of the men,
Forther wold not Tyb then,
Tyl scho had hur brode hen,
Set in hur lap.

82. on. MS. Harl.

85. MS. Harl. With the holy, &c. wrotyn.

86. Wolde they spare. Wright.

v. 91-99. Stands thus in MS. Harl.

"I wow to God," quoth Herry, "I schal not lefe behynde,
May I mete wyth Bernard on Bayard the blynde.
Ich man kepe hym out of my wynde,
For whatsoever that he be before me I fynde,
I wot I schall hym greve."
"Wele sayd," quoth Hawkyn,
"And I wow," quoth Dawkyn,
"May I mete wyth Tomkyn,
Hys flayle I schal hym reve."

104-108. Here stand vs. 113-117 in MS. Harl.

109-117. This stanza is written as follows in MS. Harl.:

"I vow to God," quoth Hawkyn, "Yf he have the gowt,
Al that I fynde in the felde thrustand here aboute,
Have I twyes or thryes redyn thrugh the route,
In ych a stede ther thay me se, of me thay schal have doute.
When I begyn to play,
I make a vowe that I ne schall,
But yf Tybbe wyl me call,
Or I be thryes don fall,
Ryzt onys com away.

122-126. Here stand v. 104-108 in MS. Harl.

128. Whyls me ys left my merth. MS. Harl. Whil I am most mery. Wright.

We must obviously read "mer," i. e. mare, with Percy and Ritson; otherwise the rest of the stanza is nonsense. The _th_ which is added in the MS. Harl., was caught from the _thou_ following.

132-3. MS. Harl.

Sche wyl me bere, I dar say,
On a lang-somerys day.

141. MS. H. wele.

144. MS. H. Wyth so forth, Gybbe.
Wright. Joo forth.

145. hie, MS. Harl.
te, Wright.

150-151. MS. H.

Of an old rotten fell,
The cheveron of a plow-mell.

153. MS. H. Poudred.

159-161. MS. H. slatred--flatred--schatred.

175. my noye. MS. H.
myn one. Wright.

191-194. MS. Harl.

Among those wery boyes he wrest and he wrang,
He threw tham doun to the erth, and thrast them amang,
When he saw Tyrry away wyth Tyb fang,
And after hym ran.

201-207. Here evidently corrupted. In MS. Harl. as follows:

Wyth wyspes, and kexis, and ryschys there lyzt,
To fetch hom ther husbandes that were tham trouth-plyzt.
And sum brozt gret harwos
Ther husbandes hom to fetch,
Sum on dores, and sum on hech,
Sum on hyrdyllys, and sum on crech,
And sum on whele-barows.

212. MS. H. And thay ifere assent.

215. MS. H. The prayse-folk that hur led.

224-5. MS. H.

And so was all the bachelary,
When thay met togedyr.

226. MS. H. with a ryche aray.

229. MS. H.

And at the last thay went to bed with ful gret deray.

N. B. The letter z in our reprint of this poem often represents the old character [gh], which has generally the force of gh (aspirated g), sometimes of y.

THE WYF OF AUCHTIRMUCHTY.