Chapter XIX: Appendix (14)

20
He tuke the bluidy head in his hand,
And he brocht it to the ha,
And flang it into his lady's lap,
Sayand, Lady, there is a ba!

21
She took the bluidy heid in her hand,
And kisst it frae cheik to chin,
Sayand, Better I lyke that well faurit face
Nor aw my royal kin.

22
'Whan I was in my father's bour,
A' in my dignity,
An Englis lord a visit came,
Gat Bob Norice wi me.'

23
Then out bespak Lord Barnet syne,
And a wae, wae man was he,
Sayand, Gif I had kent he was your son,
He wuld neer been killit be me.

D

Motherwell's MS., p. 480, from the recitation of
Widow Michael, a very old woman, as learned by her in
Banffshire seventy years before. August, 1826.

1
Gill Morice stood in stable-door,
With red gold shined his weed;
A bonnie boy him behind,
Dressing a milk-white steed.

2
'Woe's me for you, maister,
Your name it waxes wide;
It is not for your rich, rich robes,
Nor for your meikle pride,
But all is for yon lord's ladie,
She lives on Ithan side.'

3
'Here's to thee, my bonnie wee boy,
That I pay meat and fee;
You will run on to Ithan side
An errand unto me.'

4
'If ye gar me that errand run,
Sae sair against my will,
I'll make a vow, and keep it true,
I'll do your errand ill.'

5
'I fear nae ill of thee, boy,
I fear nae ill of thee;
I fearna ill of my bonnie boy,
My sister's son are ye.

6
'Ye'll tak here this green manteel,
It's lined with the frieze;
Ye'll bid her come to gude green-wood,
To talk with Gill Morice.

7
'Ye'll tak here this sark o silk,
Her ain hand sewed the sleeve;
Ye'll bid her come to gude green-wood,
And ask not Burnard's leave.'

8
When he gade to Ithan side
They were hailing at the ba,
And four and twenty gay ladyes
They lookd ower castle wa.

9
'God mak you safe, you ladies all,
God mak you safe and sure;
But Burnard's lady amang you all,
My errand is to her.

10
'Ye'll tak here this green manteel,
It's a' lined wi the frieze;
Ye're bidden come to gude green-wood
And speak to Gill Morice.

11
'Ye'll tak here this sark of silk,
Your ain hand sewed the sleeve;
Ye're bidden come to gude green-wood,
And ask not Burnard's leave.'

12
Up it stood the little nurice,
She winked with her ee:
'Welcome, welcome, bonnie boy,
With luve-tidings to me.

13
'Ye lie, ye lie, ye false nurice,
Sae loud's I hear ye lie;
It's to the lady of the house,
I'm sure ye are not shee.'

14
Then out and spoke him bold Burnard,
Behind the door stood he:
'I'll go unto gude green-wood,
And see what he may be.

15
'Come, bring to me the gowns of silk,
Your petticoats so small,
And I'll go on to gude green-wood,
I'll try with him a fall.'

16
Gill Morice stood in gude green-wood,
He whistled and he sang:
'I think I see the woman come
That I have loved lang.'

17
'What now, what now, ye Gill Morice,
What now, and how do ye?
How lang hae ye my lady luved?
This day come tell to me.'

18
'First when I your lady loved,
In green-wood amang the thyme,
I wot she was my first fair love
Or ever she was thine.

19
'First when I your lady loved,
In green-wood amang the flouirs,
I wot she was my first fair love
Or ever she was yours.'

20
He's taen out a lang, lang brand
That he was used to wear,
And he's taen aff Gill Morice head,
And put it on a spear:
The soberest boy in a' the court
Gill Morice head did bear.

21
He's put it in a braid basin,
And brocht it in the ha,
And laid it in his lady's lap;
Said, Lady, tak a ba!

22
'Play ye, play ye, my lady,' he said,
'Play ye frae ha to bower;
Play ye wi Gill Morice head,
He was your paramour.'

23
'He was not my paramour,
He was my son indeed;
I got him in my mother's bower,
And in my maiden-weed.

24
'I got him in my mother's bower,
Wi meikle sin and shame;
I brocht him up in good green-wood,
Got mony a shower o rain.

25
'But I will kiss his bluidy head,
And I will clap his chin;
I'll make a vow, and keep it true,
I'll never kiss man again.

26
'Oftimes I by his cradle sat,
And fond to see him sleep;
But I may walk about his grave,
The saut tears for to weep.'

27
'Bring cods, bring cods to my ladye,
Her heart is full of wae;'
'None of your cods, Burnet,' she says,
'But lay me on the strae.'

28
'Pox on you, my lady fair,
That wudna telled it me;
If I had known he was your son,
He had not been slain by me;
And for ae penny ye wud hae gien
I wud hae gien him three.'

29
'Keep weel your land, Burnet,' she said,
'Your land and white monie;
There's land eneuch in Norroway
Lies heirless I wot the day.'

30
The one was killed in the mornin air,
His mother died at een,
And or the mornin bells was rung
The threesome were a' gane.

E

Motherwell's MS., p. 165; Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p.
269. From the recitation of Mrs Thomson, Kilbarchan,
seventy years of age, as learned from her mother at the
Water of Leven, Dumbarton, when she was ten years old.
March, 1825.

1
Chield Morrice was an earl's son,
His name it waxed wide;
It was nae for his parentage,
Nor yet his meikle pride,
But it was for a lady gay,
That lived on Carron side.

2
'O Willie, my man, my errand gang,
And you maun rin wi speed;
When other boys run on their feet,
On horseback ye shall ride.

3
'O master dear, I love you weel,
And I love you as my life,
But I will not go to Lord Barnard's ha,
For to tryst forth his wife.

4
'For the baron he's a man of might,
He neer could bide a taunt,
And ye shall see or it be late
How meikle ye'll hae to vaunt.'

5
'O you must rin my errand, Willie,
And you must rin wi speed,
And if you don't obey my high command
I'll gar your body bleed.

6
'And here it is a gay manteel,
It's a' gowd but the hem;
Bid her come speak to Chield Morice,
Bring naebody but her lane.

7
'And here it is a holland smock,
Her own hand sewed the sleeve;
Bid her come speak to Chield Morice,
Ask not the baron's leave.'

8
'Since I must run this errand for you,
So sore against my will,
I've made a vow, and I'll keep it true,
It shall be done for ill.'

9
For he did not ask the porter's leave,
Tho he stood at the gate,
But straight he ran to the big hall,
Where great folk sat at meat.

10
'Good hallow, gentle sir and dame,
My errand canna wait;
Dame, ye must go speak to Chield Morice,
Before it be too late.

11
'And here it is a gay manteel,
It's a' goud but the hem;
Ye must come speak to Child Morice,
Bring nae body but your lane.

12
'And here it is a holland smock,
Your ain hand sewed the sleeve;
You must come speak to Chield Morice,
Ask not the baron's leave.'

13
O aye she stamped wi her foot,
And winked wi her ee,
But a' that she could say or do,
Forbidden he wad na be.

14
'It's surely to my bouir-woman,
It canna be to me:'
'I brocht it to Lord Barnard's lady,
And I trow that thou art she.'

15
Out then spak the wylie nurse,
Wi the bairn just on her knee:
'If this be come fra Chield Morice,
It's dear welcome to me.'

16
'Thou lies, thou lies, thou wylie nurse,
Sae loud's I hear thee lie;
I brought it to Lord Barnard's lady,
And I trow thou binna she.'

17
Then up and rose him the bold baron,
And an angry man was he;
He took the table wi his foot,
And keppd it wi his knee,
Till silver cup and ezar dish
In flinders they did flee.

18
'Go bring me one of thy cleeding,
That hings upon the pin,
And I'll awa to the good green-wood,
And crack wi your leman.'

19
'I would have you stay at home, Lord Barnard,
I would have you stay at home;
Never wyte a man for violence douce
That never thought you wrong.'

20
And when he to the green-wood went,
No body saw he there
But Chield Morice, on a milk-white steed,
Combing down his yellow hair.

21
Chield Morice sat in the gay green-wood,
He whistled and he sang:
'O what means a' thir folks coming?
My mother tarries lang.'

22
'No wonder, no wonder, Chield Morice,' he said,
'My lady loved thee weel;
For the whitest bit of my body
Is blacker than thy heel.

23
'But nevertheless now, Chield Morice,
For a' thy gay beautie,
O nevertheless, Chield Morice,
Thy head shall go with me.'

24
He had a rapier by his side,
Hung low down by his knee;
He struck Chield Morrice on the neck,
Till aff his head did flee.

25
Then he's taen up that bloody head,
And stuck it on a spear,
And the meanest man in a' his train
Gat Chield Morice head to bear.

26
The lady looked owre the castle-wa,
Wi meikle dool and down,
And there she saw Chield Morice head,
Coming trailing to the town.

27
But he's taen up this bluidy head,
And dashed it gainst the wa:
'Come down, come down, you ladies fair,
And play at this foot-ba.'

28
Then she's taen up this bluidy head,
And she kissed it both cheek and chin:
'I would rather hae a kiss o that bluidy head
Than a' thy earldom.

29
'I got him in my father's bouir,
Wi meikle sin and shame,
And I brought him up in gay green-wood,
Beneath the heavy rain.

30
'Many a day have I rockd thy cradle,
And fondly seen thee sleep,
But now I'll go about thy grave,
And sore, sore will I weep.'

31
'O woe be to thee, thou wild woman,
And an ill deid may thou die!
For if ye had tauld me he was your son,
He should hae ridden and gane wi me.'

32
'O hold your tongue, you bold baron,
And an ill death may ye die!
He had lands and rents enew of his ain,
He needed nane fra thee.'

33
'Then I'll curse the hand that did the deed,
The heart that thought him ill,
The feet that carried me speedilie
This comely youth to kill.'

34
This lady she died gin ten o'clock,
Lord Barnard died gin twall,
And bonnie boy now, Sweet Willie,
What's come o him I canna tell.

F

#a.# Percy's Reliques, III, 93, 1765. #b.# Letter of T.
Gray to Mason, June, 1757 (?): Gray's Works, ed. Gosse,
II, 316.

1
Gil Morrice was an erles son,
His name it waxed wide;
It was nae for his great riches,
Nor yet his mickle pride,
Bot it was for a lady gay,
That livd on Carron side.

2
'Whair sall I get a bonny boy,
That will win hose and shoen,
That will gae to Lord Barnard's ha,
And bid his lady cum?

3
'And ye maun rin errand, Willie,
And ye may rin wi pride;
When other boys gae on their foot,
On horseback ye sall ride.'

4
'O no! Oh no! my master dear,
I dare nae for my life;
I'll no gae to the bauld baron's,
For to triest furth his wife.'

5
'My bird Willie, my boy Willie,
My dear Willie,' he sayd,
'How can ye strive against the stream?
For I sall be obeyd.'

6
'Bot, O my master dear,' he cry'd,
'In grene-wod ye're your lain;
Gi owre sic thochts, I walde ye rede,
For fear ye should be tain.'

7
'Haste, haste, I say, gae to the ha,
Bid hir cum here wi speid;
If ye refuse my heigh command,
I'll gar your body bleid.

8
'Gae bid hir take this gay mantel,
'Tis a' gowd but the hem;
Bid hir cum to the gude grene-wode,
And bring nane bot hir lain.

9
'And there it is, a silken sarke,
Hir ain hand sewd the sleive;
And bid hir cum to Gill Morice,
Speir nae bauld baron's leave.'

10
'Yes, I will gae your black errand,
Though it be to your cost;
Sen ye by me will nae be warnd,
In it ye sall find frost.

11
'The baron he's a man of might,
He neir could bide to taunt;
As ye will see, before it's nicht,
How sma ye hae to vaunt.

12
'And sen I maun your errand rin,
Sae sair against my will,
I'se mak a vow, and keip it trow,
It sall be done for ill.'

13
And when he came to broken brigue,
He bent his bow and swam;
And when [he] came to grass growing,
Set down his feet and ran.

14
And when he came to Barnard's ha,
Would neither chap nor ca,
Bot set his bent bow to his breist,
And lichtly lap the wa.

15
He wauld nae tell the man his errand,
Though he stude at the gait;
Bot straiht into the ha he cam,
Whair they were set at meit.

16
'Hail! hail! my gentle sire and dame,
My message winna waite;
Dame, ye maun to the gude grene-wod,
Before that it be late.

17
'Ye're bidden tak this gay mantel,
'Tis a' gowd bot the hem;
You maun gae to the gude grene-wode,
Evn by your sel alane.

18
'And there it is, a silken sarke,
Your ain hand sewd the sleive;
Ye maun gae speik to Gill Morice,
Speir nae bauld baron's leave.'

19
The lady stamped wi hir foot,
And winked wi hir ee;
But a' that she coud say or do,
Forbidden he wad nae bee.

20
'It's surely to my bowr-woman;
It neir could be to me:'
'I brocht it to Lord Barnard's lady;
I trow that ye be she.'

21
Then up and spack the wylie nurse,
The bairn upon hir knee:
'If it be cum frae Gill Morice,
It's deir welcum to mee.'

22
'Ye leid, ye leid, ye filthy nurse,
Sae loud's I heire ye lee;
I brocht it to Lord Barnard's lady;
I trow ye be nae shee.'

23
Then up and spack the bauld baron,
An angry man was hee;
He's tain the table wi his foot,
Sae has he wi his knee,
Till siller cup and ezar dish
In flinders he gard flee.

24
'Gae bring a robe of your cliding,
That hings upon the pin,
And I'll gae to the gude grene-wode,
And speik wi your lemman.'

25
'O bide at hame, now, Lord Barnard,
I warde ye bide at hame;
Neir wyte a man for violence
That neir wate ye wi nane.'

26
Gil Morice sate in gude grene-wode,
He whistled and he sang:
'O what mean a' the folk coming?
My mother tarries lang.'

27
The baron came to the grene-wode,
Wi mickle dule and care,
And there he first spied Gill Morice,
Kameing his yellow hair.

28
'Nae wonder, nae wonder, Gill Morice,
My lady loed thee weel;
The fairest part of my body
Is blacker than thy heel.

29
'Yet neir the less now, Gill Morice,
For a' thy great bewty,
Ye's rew the day ye eir was born;
That head sall gae wi me.'

30
Now he has drawn his trusty brand,
And slaited on the strae,
And thro Gill Morice fair body
He's gard cauld iron gae.

31
And he has tain Gill Morice head,
And set it on a speir;
The meanest man in a' his train
Has gotten that head to bear.

32
And he has tain Gill Morice up,
Laid him across his steid,
And brocht him to his painted bowr,
And laid him on a bed.

33
The lady sat on castil-wa,
Beheld baith dale and doun,
And there she saw Gill Morice head
Cum trailing to the toun.

34
'Far better I loe that bluidy head,
Bot and that yellow hair,
Than Lord Barnard, and a' his lands,
As they lig here and thair.'

35
And she has tain hir Gill Morice,
And kissd baith mouth and chin:
'I was once as fow of Gill Morice
As the hip is o the stean.

36
'I got ye in my father's house,
Wi mickle sin and shame;
I brocht thee up in gude green-wode,
Under the heavy rain.

37
'Oft have I by thy cradle sitten,
And fondly seen thee sleip;
Bot now I gae about thy grave,
The saut tears for to weip.'

38
And syne she kissd his bluidy cheik,
And syne his bluidy chin:
'O better I loe my Gill Morice
Than a' my kith and kin!'

39
'Away, away, ye ill woman,
And an il deith mait ye dee!
Gin I had kend he'd bin your son,
He'd neir bin slain for mee.'

G

Jamieson's Popular Ballads, I, 18; Jamieson, in The Scots
Magazine, 1803, LXV, 698, stanzas 1, 3.

1
Gil Morrice sat in silver wood,
He whistled and he sang:
'Whar sall I get a bonny boy
My errand for to gang?'

2
He ca'd his foster-brither Willie:
'Come, win ye hose and shoon,
And gae unto Lord Barnard's ha,
And bid his lady come.'

* * * * * * *

3
And she has taen the bloody head,
And cast it i the brim,
Syne gathered up her robes o green,
And fast she followed him.

* * * * *

#A.#

1^1. siluen: _compare 7^3, 8^3, 14^3, 15^3, etc._

2^{3, 4}. _In the MS., these go with 3: compare 20._

3^2. rumeth.

4^{3, 4}. _These precede what is printed as 6._

5^1, 6^1, 12^1. out many.

6^3. as schoole masters: _compare 13^3._

6^{5, 6}. _These lines may be the last half of a stanza.
There is nothing corresponding in the page's repetition
of his master's message._

17^{1, 2}. _Joined in the MS. with 18._

18^4. then my.

21. _At least one stanza must be lost after 20._

22^{1, 2} _precede 21, and 22^{3, 4} make a stanza with
21^{3, 4}: the order being 22^{1, 2}, 21, 22^{3, 4}._

22^4. 2 or 3.

26^1. _Only half the ~n~ in the MS. Furnivall._

30^2. but 3.

32^1. curteouset.

And _for_ & _throughout._

#B.#

2^3. For _is a later insertion._

2^3, 6^1. Oh.

6^{1, 2}. _Originally_, O do I not, And do I not.

9^3. to go to: come _written over_ go.

13^2, 14^3. of.

14^2. That _is a later insertion._

18^2. And _is a later insertion._

18^4. _Originally_, He should neer have been.

#C.#

"This ballad was forwarded to me by my good friend Andrew
Crawfurd, of John's Hill, Lochwinnoch. He wrote it from
the recitation of Mrs Storie, wife of William Storie,
laborer, in Lochwinnoch. It was a song of Mrs Storie's
grandmother. It is queried if this should not be Babe
Norice.... The interlineary corrections were made in
consequence of Mrs Storie singing the ballad over to
myself." _Motherwell. The interlineary corrections have
been adopted. The earlier readings follow._

Barnard _for_ Barnet.

5^4. speir nae bauld baron's.

6^1. Barnard's ha.

8^3. and I doubly vow.

10^1. wee lad.

12^1. gay _wanting._

13^1. braw manteil.

13^4. nae bauld baron's.

16^1. to a busking gane.

16^2. drest him.

19^1. Barnard liftit his.

19^3. has sneddit.

19^4. And aff frae his bodie.

20^4. lady _wanting._

_The affected spelling I suppose to be Crawfurd's._

7^4, 9^1. quhan.

_In the Appendix to his Minstrelsy, p. xvii, Motherwell
adopts the reading ~Babe Norice~ in 1^1, and prints
~burning gowd~ in 1^4._

#D.#

"This copy is from the recitation of Margaret Paterson,
_alias_ widow Michael, a very old woman residing at
Dovecote Ha, Barhead. She is a native of Banffshire, and
learned the ballad there in her infancy. She mentions
that she has heard it sung with many variations, but this
copy was considered to be the right way. It is seventy
years since she committed it to her memory. 4th August,
1826." _Motherwell._

#E.#

_In his Minstrelsy, p. 269, Motherwell says that the
reciter learned the ballad from her grandmother. He goes
on to say:_ She mentions that at a later period of her
life she also committed to memory 'Gill Morice,' which
began with young lasses like her to be a greater favorite
and more fashionable than the set which her grandmother
and other old folks used to sing, under the title of
'Chield Morice.'

17^5. _Written ~and dezar dish~, the ~d~ of ~and~ being
carried on to the word following._

19^3. douce _makes no apparent sense. Motherwell prints
done._

20^1. _Stood originally_ And when he came to the green
wood.

26^2. _No doubt a corruption of the familiar_ Beheld
baith dale and down.

29^4. heaviy, _perhaps representing the actual sound.
Motherwell prints_ heavy.

#F. a.#

_In eight-line stanzas. ~Wh~ and ~y~ are substituted for
the initial ~quh~ and ~z~ cherished by ballad imitators._

5^4. shall.

30^4. He's gar.

#b.#

1^2. fame it wexed.

1^4. Nae for.

1^6. Carron's.

3^1. Ye maun rin this.

3^2. maun rin.

3^3. feet.

4^1. Ah na, ah na.

_The four stanzas which follow, "~produced and
handed about in manuscript~," in consequence of an
advertisement, were introduced into his copy by Percy._

_After 26:_

His hair was like the threeds of gold,
Drawne frae Minerva's loome;
His lipps like roses drapping dew,
His breath was a' perfume.

His brow was like the mountain snae,
Gilt by the morning beam;
His cheeks like living roses glow,
His een like azure stream.

The boy was clad in robes of grene,
Sweete as the infant spring,
And like the mavis on the bush
He gart the vallies ring.

_After 27:_

That sweetly wavd around his face,
That face beyond compare;
He sang sae sweet, it might dispel
A' rage but fell dispair.

_The following stanzas were appended to the ballad in the
edition reprinted by Percy:_

'Obraid me not, my Lord Barnard,
Obraid me not for shame!
With that saim speir O pierce my heart,
And put me out o pain.

'Since nothing bot Gill Morice head
Thy jelous rage could quell,
Let that saim hand now tak hir life
That neir to thee did ill.

'To me nae after days nor nichts
Will eir be saft or kind;
I'll fill the air with heavy sighs,
And greet till I am blind.'

'Enouch of blood by me's bin spilt,
Seek not your death frae mee;
I rather lourd it had been my sel
Than eather him or thee.

'With waefo wae I hear your plaint;
Sair, sair I rew the deid,
That eir this cursed hand of mine
Had gard his body bleid.

'Dry up your tears, my winsom dame,
Ye neir can heal the wound;
Ye see his head upon the speir,
His heart's blude on the ground.

'I curse the hand that did the deid,
The heart that thocht the ill,
The feet that bore me wi sik speid
The comely youth to kill.

'I'll ay lament for Gill Morice,
As gin he were my ain;
I'll neir forget the dreiry day
On which the youth was slain.'

_The copy lent me by Mr Macmath lacks the four stanzas
inserted by Percy, but has the eight given immediately
above. The following are the variations from #F#._

2^1. will I.

7^4. thy body.

10^2. thy cost.

18^3. maun cum.

26^1. sits.

26^3. means a' these folks.

26^4. she tarrys.

27^1. And whan he cam to guid.

27^3. first saw.

27^4. Kemeing down.

28^2. Than my, _misprint_.

30^4. gard.

34^4. they lay.

35^4. hip was.

_The eight stanzas follow which are printed immediately
above._

[139] The edition of 1755 is not known now to exist. Mr David Laing showed Motherwell a copy, without place or date, with the title: Gill Morice, An Ancient Scots Poem. The foundation of the tragedy called Douglas, as it is now acted in the Concert-Hall, Canongate. There was no material difference between this edition and that which was reprinted in the Reliques, except that it lacked the four stanzas which Percy introduced. Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 259, note.

In Herd's MSS, I, 7, II, 70, there are half a dozen more stanzas, from The Weekly Magazine, August 13, 1772, which continue the story still further. My lady flings herself over a craig, my lord seeks death in battle. But, as Sir Walter Scott notes in the margin, these verses are "formed on the conclusion of Douglas, which tragedy is founded on the original ballad." These stanzas are printed by Jamieson, I, 21.

Mr Macmath has communicated to me an early copy of 'Gil Morice,' without place or date, in conjunction with a parody, entitled The Seven Champions of the Stage, printed in 1757, which satirizes Parson Home's efforts to get his Agis and his Douglas acted by Garrick. This copy of 'Gil Morice' might be another edition of that which Mr Laing possessed. Its variations, which are of slight consequence, will be given in the notes to #F#.

[140] The name of the heroine in the tragedy of Douglas was originally Lady Barnard, as in the ballad; it was altered to Lady Randolph when the play was produced in London. Motherwell, p. 257, note.

[141] Minstrelsy, p. 269, note. Mr Aytoun considers that #E# is only the copy printed in the middle of the last century purged, in the process of oral transmission, of what was not to the popular taste, "and altered more." There is no doubt that a copy learned from print may be transformed in this way, but it is certain that old tradition does not come to a stop when a ballad gets into print. Mrs Thomson's account of the matter Aytoun does not heed. It is difficult to understand why Aytoun printed the stanzas from Percy's Reliques, at I, 149 f, 2d ed., except as a simple courtesy to his correspondent.

[142] Already cited in The Ballad Minstrelsy of Scotland, Glasgow, 1871, p. 316.

84

BONNY BARBARA ALLAN

#A. a.# 'Bonny Barbara Allan,' Tea-Table Miscellany, IV,
46, ed. 1740; here from the edition of London, 1763, p.
343. #b.# 'Sir John Grehme and Barbara Allan,' Percy's
Reliques, 1765, III, 131.

#B. a.# 'Barbara Allen's Cruelty,' etc., Roxburghe
Ballads, II, 25; reprint of the Ballad Society, III, 433.
#b.# Roxburghe Ballads, III, 522. #c.# Broadside formerly
belonging to Percy. #d.# Percy's Reliques, 1765, III, 125.

#C.# 'Barbara Allan,' Motherwell's MS., p. 288, from
recitation.

#A a# is wrongly said by Stenhouse, The Scots Musical Museum, IV, 213, to have appeared in Ramsay's Miscellany in 1724. It is not even in the edition of 1733, but, according to Mr Chappell, was first inserted in that of 1740. Ramsay's copy is repeated in Herd, 1769, p. 29, 1776, I, 19, Johnson's Museum, p. 230, No 221, and Ritson's Scotish Song, II, 196. #C# was perhaps derived from Ramsay, but possibly may have come down by purely oral tradition. Some later copies of #B# have Reading Town for Scarlet Town (Chappell).

The Scottish ballad is extended in Buchan's MSS, I, 90, Motherwell's MS., p. 671, to forty-one stanzas. In this amplified copy, which has no claim to be admitted here, the dying lover leaves his watch and gold ring, his Bible and penknife, a mill and thirty ploughs, nine meal-mills and the freights of nine ships, all to tocher Barbara Allan. This is the ballad referred to by Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe in Stenhouse's edition of the Museum, IV, 300*, as sung by the peasantry of Allandale. Doubtless it was learned by them from some stall-print.

Pepys makes this entry in his Diary, January 2, 1666: "In perfect pleasure I was to hear her [Mrs Knipp, an actress] sing, and especially her little Scotch song of Barbary Allen." Goldsmith, in his third essay, 1765, p. 14, writes: The music of the finest singer is dissonance to what I felt when an old dairy-maid sung me into tears with 'Johnny Armstrong's Last Good-night,' or 'The Cruelty of Barbara Allen.'[143]

* * * * *

#A b# is translated by Loève-Veimars, p. 379, von Marées, p. 34; #B d# by Bodmer, I, 85.

A

#a.# The Tea-Table Miscellany, IV, 46, ed. 1740; here
from the London edition of 1763, p. 343. #b.# Percy's
Reliques, III, 131, ed. 1765, "with a few conjectural
emendations from a written copy."

1
It was in and about the Martinmas time,
When the green leaves were a falling,
That Sir John Græme, in the West Country,
Fell in love with Barbara Allan.

2
He sent his men down through the town,
To the place where she was dwelling:
'O haste and come to my master dear,
Gin ye be Barbara Allan.'

3
O hooly, hooly rose she up,
To the place where he was lying,
And when she drew the curtain by,
'Young man, I think you're dying.'

4
'O it's I'm sick, and very, very sick,
And 'tis a' for Barbara Allan:'
'O the better for me ye's never be,
Tho your heart's blood were a spilling.

5
'O dinna ye mind, young man,' said she,
'When ye was in the tavern a drinking,
That ye made the healths gae round and round,
And slighted Barbara Allan?'

6
He turnd his face unto the wall,
And death was with him dealing:
'Adieu, adieu, my dear friends all,
And be kind to Barbara Allan.'

7
And slowly, slowly raise she up,
And slowly, slowly left him,
And sighing said, she coud not stay,
Since death of life had reft him.

8
She had not gane a mile but twa,
When she heard the dead-bell ringing,
And every jow that the dead-bell geid,
It cry'd, Woe to Barbara Allan!

9
'O mother, mother, make my bed!
O make it saft and narrow!
Since my love died for me to-day,
I'll die for him to-morrow.'

B

#a.# Roxburghe Ballads, II, 25; reprint of the Ballad
Society, III, 433. #b.# Roxburghe Ballads, III, 522. #c.#
A broadside formerly belonging to Bishop Percy, #d.#
Percy's Reliques, 1765, III, 125.

1
In Scarlet Town, where I was bound,
There was a fair maid dwelling,
Whom I had chosen to be my own,
And her name it was Barbara Allen.

2
All in the merry month of May,
When green leaves they was springing,
This young man on his death-bed lay,
For the love of Barbara Allen.

3
He sent his man unto her then,
To the town where she was dwelling:
'You must come to my master dear,
If your name be Barbara Allen.

4
'For death is printed in his face,
And sorrow's in him dwelling,
And you must come to my master dear,
If your name be Barbara Allen.'

5
'If death be printed in his face,
And sorrow's in him dwelling,
Then little better shall he be
For bonny Barbara Allen.'

6
So slowly, slowly she got up,
And so slowly she came to him,
And all she said when she came there,
Young man, I think you are a dying.

7
He turnd his face unto her then:
'If you be Barbara Allen,
My dear,' said he, 'come pitty me,
As on my death-bed I am lying.'

8
'If on your death-bed you be lying,
What is that to Barbara Allen?
I cannot keep you from [your] death;
So farewell,' said Barbara Allen.

9
He turnd his face unto the wall,
And death came creeping to him:
'Then adieu, adieu, and adieu to all,
And adieu to Barbara Allen!'

10
And as she was walking on a day,
She heard the bell a ringing,
And it did seem to ring to her
'Unworthy Barbara Allen.'

11
She turnd herself round about,
And she spy'd the corps a coming:
'Lay down, lay down the corps of clay,
That I may look upon him.'

12
And all the while she looked on,
So loudly she lay laughing,
While all her friends cry'd [out] amain,
'Unworthy Barbara Allen!'

13
When he was dead, and laid in grave,
Then death came creeping to she:
'O mother, mother, make my bed,
For his death hath quite undone me.

14
'A hard-hearted creature that I was,
To slight one that lovd me so dearly;
I wish I had been more kinder to him,
The time of his life when he was near me.'

15
So this maid she then did dye,
And desired to be buried by him,
And repented her self before she dy'd,
That ever she did deny him.

C

Motherwell's MS., p. 288; from Mrs Duff, Kilbirnie,
February 9, 1825.

1
It fell about the Lammas time,
When the woods grow green and yellow,
There came a wooer out of the West
A wooing to Barbara Allan.

2
'It is not for your bonny face,
Nor for your beauty bonny,
But it is all for your tocher good
I come so far about ye.'

3
'If it be not for my comely face,
Nor for my beauty bonnie,
My tocher good ye'll never get paid
Down on the board before ye.'

4
'O will ye go to the Highland hills,
To see my white corn growing?
Or will ye go to the river-side,
To see my boats a rowing?'

5
O he's awa, and awa he's gone,
And death's within him dealing,
And it is all for the sake of her,
His bonnie Barbara Allan.

6
O he sent his man unto the house,
Where that she was a dwelling:
'O you must come my master to see,
If you be Barbara Allan.'

7
So slowly aye as she put on,
And so stoutly as she gaed till him,
And so slowly as she could say,
'I think, young man, you're lying.'

8
'O I am lying in my bed,
And death within me dwelling;
And it is all for the love of thee,
My bonny Barbara Allan.'

9
She was not ae mile frae the town,
Till she heard the dead-bell ringing:
'Och hone, oh hone, he's dead and gone,
For the love of Barbara Allan!'

* * * * *

#A. b.#

1^3. o the.

4^4. a _wanting_.

5^1. Remember ye nat in the tavern, sir.

5^2. Whan ye the cups wer fillan.

5^3. How ye.

6^4. And _wanting_.

7^1. Then hooly, hooly.

7^2. And hooly, hooly.

8^2. deid-bell knellan.

8^3. that _wanting_.

8^4. It _wanting_.

9^4. I 'se.

#B. a.#

Barbara Allen's Cruelty, or, The Youngman's Tragedy.
With Barbara Allen's Lamentation for her Unkindness to
her Lover and her Self.... Printed for P. Brooksby, J.
Deacon, J. Blare, J. Back. Black Letter.

13^4. undone we.

#b.#

Barbara Allen's Cruelty, or, The Young Man's Tragedy. _No
name of printer._

1^3. for my own.

2^2. they were.

2^4. the sake of.

3^4. name is.

4^4. thy name is.

5^3. Then _wanting_.

6^1. she came to him.

6^3. came to him.

6^4. a _wanting_.

7^2. you are.

7^4. As I am on my death-bed lying.

8^1. If you are on your death-bed lying.

8^3. from your.

8^4. Then farewell: said _wanting_.

9^2. on him.

9^3. and _wanting_: to you all.

10^1. And _wanting_: out one day.

10^2. bells.

10^3. And they.

11^2. And saw.

11^3. corps said she.

12^3. cry'd out.

13^1. in his.

13^4. will quite undo me.

14^1. A _wanting_.

14^3. more kind.

14^4. In time of life.

15^3. eer.

16.
As she was lying down to die,
A sad feud she fell in;
She said, I pray take warning by
Hard-hearted Barbara Allen.

#c.#

_Title the same as in #a#._ Printed and sold at the
Printing-office in Bow-Church-Yard, London.

1^3. for my own.

2^2. they wore.

3^4. name is.

4^3. And thou.

4^4. thy name is.

5^3. O little.

6^1. she came to him.

6^3. came to him.

6^4. a _wanting_.

7^2. you are.

7^4. As I am on my death-bed lying.

8^3. from your.

8^4. Then farewell: said _wanting_.

9^2. on him.

9^3. to you all.

10^1. And _wanting_: out one day.

10^2. bells.

10^3. And they.

11^2. And espy'd.

11^3. corps said she.

12^3. cry'd out.

13^4. will quite undo me.

14^1. A _wanting_.

14^3. more kind.

14^4. In time of life.

15^4. eer.

16 _as in_ #b#.

_#d# was "given, with some corrections, from an old
printed copy in the editor's possession." That these
corrections were considerable, we know from the [***] at
the end. The old printed copy is very likely to have been
#c#, and, if so, the ballad was simply written over. It
does not seem necessary to give the variations under the
circumstances. In 2^3 Percy has ~Yong Jemmye Grove~._

#C.#

2^1. bonny _should perhaps be ~comely~, as in 3^1._

4^2. _Originally written_ To see my white... courting.

5^2. _Originally_ dwelling.

5^3. _Originally_ it's.

5^4. The _is written over ~His~, probably as a
conjecture._

7^2. _After ~stoutly~, ~slowly?~ as a conjectural
emendation._

7^4. lying. _'An ingenious friend' of Percy's suggested
the transposition of ~lying~ and ~dying~ in #A# 3^{2, 4}._

[143] Pepys is cited by James Farquhar Graham, The Scottish Songs, II, 157, and Goldsmith by Chappell, The Roxburghe Ballads, III, 433.

85

LADY ALICE

#A.# 'Lady Alice.' #a.# Bell's Ancient Poems, Ballads,
and Songs of the Peasantry of England, p. 127. #b.#
Notes and Queries, Second Series, I, 418. #c.# Notes and
Queries, Second Series, I, 354.

#B.# 'Giles Collins and Proud Lady Anna,' Gammer Gurton's
Garland, p. 38, ed. 1810.

This little ballad, which is said to be still of the regular stock of the stalls, is a sort of counterpart to 'Lord Lovel.' A writer in Notes and Queries, Second Series, I, 418, says: This old song was refined and modernized by the late Richard Westall, R. A.

A

#a.# Bell's Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs of the
Peasantry of England, p. 127, a stall copy. #b.# Edward
Hawkins, in Notes and Queries, Second Series, I, 418.
#c.# Notes and Queries, Second Series, I, 354, as heard
sung forty years before 1856, "Uneda," Philadelphia.

1
Lady Alice was sitting in her bower-window,
Mending her midnight quoif,
And there she saw as fine a corpse
As ever she saw in her life.

2
'What bear ye, what bear ye, ye six men tall?
What bear ye on your shoulders?'
'We bear the corpse of Giles Collins,
An old and true lover of yours.'

3
'O lay him down gently, ye six men tall,
All on the grass so green,
And tomorrow, when the sun goes down,
Lady Alice a corpse shall be seen.

4
'And bury me in Saint Mary's church,
All for my love so true,
And make me a garland of marjoram,
And of lemon-thyme, and rue.'

5
Giles Collins was buried all in the east,
Lady Alice all in the west,
And the roses that grew on Giles Collins's grave,
They reached Lady Alice's breast.

6
The priest of the parish he chanced to pass,
And he severed those roses in twain;
Sure never were seen such true lovers before,
Nor eer will there be again.

B

Gammer Gurton's Garland, p. 38, ed. 1810.

1
Giles Collins he said to his old mother,
Mother, come bind up my head,
And send to the parson of our parish,
For tomorrow I shall be dead. dead,
For tomorrow I shall be dead.

2
His mother she made him some water-gruel,
And stirrd it round with a spoon;
Giles Collins he ate up his water-gruel,
And died before 't was noon.

3
Lady Anna was sitting at her window,
Mending her night-robe and coif;
She saw the very prettiest corpse
She'd seen in all her life.

4
'What bear ye there, ye six strong men,
Upon your shoulders so high?'
'We bear the body of Giles Collins,
Who for love of you did die.'

5
'Set him down, set him down,' Lady Anna she cry'd,
'On the grass that grows so green;
Tomorrow, before the clock strikes ten,
My body shall lye by hisn.'

6
Lady Anna was buried in the east,
Giles Collins was buried in the west;
There grew a lilly from Giles Collins
That touchd Lady Anna's breast.

7
There blew a cold north-easterly wind,
And cut this lilly in twain,
Which never there was seen before,
And it never will again.

* * * * *

#A. a.#

1^2. At midnight mending her quoif.

#b.#

1^2. Mending her midnight coif.

3^3. before the sun.

4. _wanting._

5^3. grow, _misprinted_.

6^1. pass by.

6^2. And severd these.

6^4. ever there will.

#c.#

1^1. at her.

1^2. A mending her midnight coif.

1^3. the finest corpse.

1^4. That ever.

2^2. Upon your shoulders strong.

2^3. Sir Giles.

3, 4. _wanting._

5^1. Lady Alice was.

5^2. Giles Collins all.

5^3. A lily grew out of.

5^4. And touched.

6. _wanting._

86

YOUNG BENJIE

#A.# 'Young Benjie,' Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border,
III, 251, ed. 1803; III, 10, ed. 1833.

#B.# 'Bondsey and Maisry,' Buchan's Ballads of the North
of Scotland, II, 265.

'Verkel Vejemandsøn,' Grundtvig, IV, 151, No 198, invites a comparison with 'Young Benjie,' although the ballads, in the form in which they are now extant, are widely divergent. Verkel Vejemandsøn, seeing maid Gundelild shining in her virgin crown, makes a fiendish vow to rob her of it. He rides up to her house and asks where her father and mother are. They are away from home. He carries her off on his horse into the thickest of a wood, and bids her hold the beast while he makes a bed of leaves. He loses her in the thicket, and cannot find her, though he looks for her a day and two days. She goes to the strand and throws herself into the sea, saying, It was a very different bride-bed that my mother meant me to have. She is drawn out in a fisherman's net. Verkel swears that he has not seen her for eight years, but he is convicted of his crime, on evidence not given, and "clothes three stakes;" that is, he is hanged, and parts of his body are exposed on the wheels which crown the three posts of a gallows.

Sir Walter Scott's observations on the passage in which the drowned maid reveals the author of her death are too interesting to be spared:

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

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

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

O Bothwell banks bloom bonny,

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

* * * * *

#A# is translated by Schubart, p. 164; by Gerhard, p. 88; by Knortz, Schottische Balladen, No 31.

A

Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, III, 251, ed. 1803;
III, 10, ed. 1833. From tradition.

1
Of a' the maids o fair Scotland
The fairest was Marjorie,
And Young Benjie was her ae true-love,
And a dear true-love was he.

2
And wow! but they were lovers dear,
And loved fu constantlie;
But ay the mair, when they fell out,
The sairer was their plea.

3
And they hae quarrelled on a day,
Till Marjorie's heart grew wae,
And she said she'd chuse another luve,
And let Young Benjie gae.

4
And he was stout, and proud-hearted,
And thought o't bitterlie,
And he's gaen by the wan moon-light
To meet his Marjorie.

5
'O open, open, my true-love,
O open, and let me in!'
'I dare na open, Young Benjie,
My three brothers are within.'

6
'Ye lied, ye lied, ye bonny burd,
Sae loud 's I hear ye lie;
As I came by the Lowden banks,
They bade gude een to me.

7
'But fare ye weel, my ae fause love,
That I hae loved sae lang!
It sets ye chuse another love,
And let Young Benjie gang.'

8
Then Marjorie turned her round about,
The tear blinding her ee:
'I darena, darena let thee in,
But I'll come down to thee.'

9
Then saft she smiled, and said to him,
O what ill hae I done?
He took her in his armis twa,
And threw her oer the linn.

10
The stream was strang, the maid was stout,
And laith, laith to be dang,
But ere she wan the Lowden banks
Her fair colour was wan.

11
Then up bespak her eldest brother,
'O see na ye what I see?'
And out then spak her second brother,
'It's our sister Marjorie!'

12
Out then spak her eldest brother,
'O how shall we her ken?'
And out then spak her youngest brother,
'There's a honey-mark on her chin.'

13
Then they've taen up the comely corpse,
And laid it on the grund:
'O wha has killed our ae sister,
And how can he be found?

14
'The night it is her low lykewake,
The morn her burial day,
And we maun watch at mirk midnight,
And hear what she will say.'

15
Wi doors ajar, and candle-light,
And torches burning clear,
The streikit corpse, till still midnight,
They waked, but naething hear.

16
About the middle o the night
The cocks began to craw,
And at the dead hour o the night
The corpse began to thraw.

17
'O wha has done the wrang, sister,
Or dared the deadly sin?
Wha was sae stout, and feared nae dout,
As thraw ye oer the linn?'

18
'Young Benjie was the first ae man
I laid my love upon;
He was sae stout and proud-hearted,
He threw me oer the linn.'

19
'Sall we Young Benjie head, sister?
Sall we Young Benjie hang?
Or sall we pike out his twa gray een,
And punish him ere he gang?'

20
'Ye mauna Benjie head, brothers,
Ye mauna Benjie hang,
But ye maun pike out his twa gray een,
And punish him ere he gang.

21
'Tie a green gravat round his neck,
And lead him out and in,
And the best ae servant about your house
To wait Young Benjie on.

22
'And ay, at every seven year's end,
Ye'll tak him to the linn;
For that's the penance he maun drie,
To scug his deadly sin.'

B

Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 265.

1
'O come along wi me, brother,
Now come along wi me;
And we'll gae seek our sister Maisry,
Into the water o Dee.'

2
The eldest brother he stepped in,
He stepped to the knee;
Then out he jumpd upo the bank,
Says, This water's nae for me.

3
The second brother he stepped in,
He stepped to the quit;
Then out he jumpd upo the bank,
Says, This water's wondrous deep.

4
When the third brother stepped in,
He stepped to the chin;
Out he got, and forward wade,
For fear o drowning him.

5
The youngest brother he stepped in,
Took's sister by the hand;
Said, Here she is, my sister Maisry,
Wi the hinny-draps on her chin.

6
'O if I were in some bonny ship,
And in some strange countrie,
For to find out some conjurer,
To gar Maisry speak to me!'

7
Then out it speaks an auld woman,
As she was passing by:
'Ask of your sister what you want,
And she will speak to thee.'

8
'O sister, tell me who is the man
That did your body win?
And who is the wretch, tell me, likewise,
That threw you in the lin?'

9
'O Bondsey was the only man
That did my body win;
And likewise Bondsey was the man
That threw me in the lin.'

10
'O will we Bondsey head, sister?
Or will we Bondsey hang?
Or will we set him at our bow-end,
Lat arrows at him gang?'

11
'Ye winna Bondsey head, brothers,
Nor will ye Bondsey hang;
But ye'll take out his twa grey een,
Make Bondsey blind to gang.

12
'Ye'll put to the gate a chain o gold,
A rose garland gar make,
And ye'll put that in Bondsey's head,
A' for your sister's sake.'

87

PRINCE ROBERT

#A.# 'Prince Robert,' Scott's Minstrelsy, II, 124, ed.
1802; III, 269, ed. 1833.

#B.# 'Earl Robert,' Motherwell's MS., p. 149;
Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 200.

#C.# 'Lord Robert and Mary Florence,' Motherwell's MS.,
p. 321.

#D.# 'Prince Robert,' Harris MS., fol. 29.

Prince Robert's mother poisons him because he has married against her will. He sends for his bride to come, but she is in time only for the funeral. The mother will give her nothing of her son's, not even the ring on his finger, all that she asks for. The bride's heart breaks before the mother's face.

There are other ballad-stories of a mother's poisoning because of displeasure at a son's match, but I know of none which demands comparison with this very slender tale.

* * * * *

#A# is translated by Schubart, p. 122; by Doenniges, p. 57; #A# and #B# combined by Rosa Warrens, Schottische Volkslieder, No 36.

A

Scott's Minstrelsy, II, 124, ed. 1802; III, 269, ed.
1833: from the recitation of Miss Christian Rutherford.

1
Prince Robert has wedded a gay ladye,
He has wedded her with a ring;
Prince Robert has wedded a gay ladye,
But he daur na bring her hame.

2
'Your blessing, your blessing, my mother dear,
Your blessing now grant to me!'
'Instead of a blessing ye sall have my curse,
And you'll get nae blessing frae me.'

3
She has called upon her waiting-maid,
To fill a glass of wine;
She has called upon her fause steward,
To put rank poison in.

4
She has put it to her roudes lip,
And to her roudes chin;
She has put it to her fause, fause mouth,
But the never a drop gaed in.

5
He has put it to his bonny mouth,
And to his bonny chin,
He's put it to his cherry lip,
And sae fast the rank poison ran in.

6
'O ye hae poisoned your ae son, mother,
Your ae son and your heir;
O ye hae poisoned your ae son, mother,
And sons you'll never hae mair.

7
'O where will I get a little boy,
That will win hose and shoon,
To rin sae fast to Darlinton,
And bid Fair Eleanor come?'

8
Then up and spake a little boy,
That wad win hose and shoon,
'O I'll away to Darlinton,
And bid Fair Eleanor come.'