Chapter XII: Appendix (1)

“A lamentable new ditty, made upon the death of a worthy gentleman named George Stoole, dwelling sometime on Gate-side Moore, and sometime at New-Castle in Northumberland: with his penitent end. To a delicate Scottish tune.” Roxburghe Collection, I, 186, 187. Roxburghe Ballads, ed. W. Chappell, I, 576. Previously printed by [Ritson], Northumberland Garland, Newcastle, 1793, p. 33 (p. 43 of Haslewood’s reprint, London, 1809), and in Bell’s Rhymes of Northern Bards, p. 162.

1
Come, you lusty northerne lads,
That are so blith and bonny,
Prepare your hearts to be full sad,
To hear the end of Georgey.
Heigh-ho, heigh-ho, my bon[n]y love,
Heigh-ho, heigh-ho, my bonny!
Heigh-ho, heigh-ho, my owne deare love,
And God be with my Georgie!

2
When Georgie to his triall came,
A thousand hearts were sorry;
A thousand lasses wept full sore,
And all for love of Georgy.

3
Some did say he would escape,
Some at his fall did glory;
But these were clownes and fickle friends,
And none that lovëd Georgy.

4
Might friends have satisfide the law,
Then Georgie would find many;
Yet bravely did he plead for life,
If mercy might be any.

5
But when this doughty carle was cast,
He was full sad and sorry;
Yet boldly did he take his death,
So patiently dyde Georgie.

6
As Georgie went up to the gate,
He tooke his leave of many;
He tooke his leave of his lard’s wife,
Whom he lovd best of any.

7
With thousand sighs and heavy lookes,
Away from thence he parted
Where he so often blith had beene,
Though now so heavy-hearted.

8
He writ a letter with his owne hand,
He thought he writ it bravely;
He sent to New-castle towne,
To his belovëd lady.

9
Wherein he did at large bewaile
The occasion of his folly,
Bequeathing life unto the law,
His soule to heaven holy.

10
‘Why, lady, leave to weepe for me!
Let not my ending grieve ye!
Prove constant to the man you love,
For I cannot releeve ye.

11
‘Out upon the, Withrington!
And fie upon the, Phœnix!
Thou hast put downe the doughty one
That stole the sheepe from Anix.

12
‘And fie on all such cruell carles
Whose crueltie’s so fickle
To cast away a gentleman,
In hatred, for so little!

13
‘I would I were on yonder hill,
Where I have beene full merry,
My sword and buckeler by my side,
To fight till I be weary.

14
‘They well should know, that tooke me first,
Though hopes be now forsaken,
Had I but freedome, armes, and health,
I’de dye ere I’de be taken.

15
‘But law condemns me to my grave,
They have me in their power;
Ther’s none but Christ that can mee save
At this my dying houre.’

16
He calld his dearest love to him,
When as his heart was sorry,
And speaking thus, with manly heart,
‘Deare sweeting, pray for Georgie.’

17
He gave to her a piece of gold,
And bade her give ‘t her barnes,
And oft he kist her rosie lips,
And laid him into her armes.

18
And comming to the place of death,
He never changëd colour;
The more they thought he would looke pale,
The more his veines were fuller.

19
And with a cheerefull countenance,
Being at that time entreated
For to confesse his former life,
These words he straight repeated.

20
‘I never stole no oxe nor cow,
Nor never murdered any;
But fifty horse I did receive
Of a merchant’s man of Gory.

21
‘For which I am condemnd to dye,
Though guiltlesse I stand dying;
Deare gracious God, my soule receive!
For now my life is flying.’

22
The man of death a part did act
Which grieves mee tell the story;
God comfort all are comfortlesse,
And did[e] so well as Georgie!
Heigh-ho, heigh-ho, my bonny love,
Heigh-ho, heigh[-ho], my bonny,
Heigh-ho, heigh-ho, mine own true love,
Sweet Christ receive my Georgie!

1. _Burden to st. 1_: honny _in the second line_.

10^3. the ney.

14^2. whoops.

14^4. dye are.

“The Life and Death of George of Oxford. To a pleasant tune, called Poor Georgy.” Roxburghe Collection, IV, 53, Pepys, II, 150, Jersey, I, 86, Huth, I, 150, according to Mr J. W. Ebsworth, Roxburghe Ballads, VII, 70, 1890. It was printed for P. Brooksby, whose time Mr Ebsworth gives as between 1671 and 1692.

1
As I went over London Bridge,
All in a misty morning,
There did I see one weep and mourn,
Lamenting for her Georgy.
His time it is past, his life it will not last,
Alack and alas, there is no remédy!
Which makes the heart within me ready to burst in three,
To think on the death of poor Georgy.

2
‘George of Oxford is my name,
And few there’s but have known me;
Many a mad prank have I playd,
But now they’ve overthrown me.’

3
O then bespake the Lady Gray;
‘I’le haste me in the morning,
And to the judge I’le make my way,
To save the life of Georgy.

4
‘Go saddle me my milk-white steed,
Go saddle me my bonny,
That I may to New-Castle speed,
To save the life of Georgy.’

5
But when she came the judge before,
Full low her knee she bended;
For Georgy’s life she did implore,
That she might be befriended.

6
‘O rise, O rise, fair Lady Gray,
Your suit cannot be granted;
Content your self as well you may,
For Georgy must be hanged.’

7
She wept, she waild, she [w]rung her hands,
And ceasëd not her mourning;
She offerd gold, she offerd lands,
To save the life of Georgy.

8
‘I have travelld through the land,
And met with many a man, sir,
But, knight or lord, I bid him stand;
He durst not make an answer.

9
‘The Brittain bold that durst deny
His money for to tender,
Though he were stout as valiant Guy,
I forced him to surrender.

10
‘But when the money I had got,
And made him cry _peccavi_,
To bear his charge and pay his shot,
A mark or noble gave I.

11
‘The ladies, when they had me seen,
Would ner have been affrighted;
To take a dance upon the green
With Georgy they delighted.

12
‘When I had ended this our wake,
And fairly them bespoken,
Their rings and jewels would I take,
To keep them for a token.’

13
The hue-and-cry for George is set,
A proper handsome fellow,
With diamond eyes as black as jet,
And locks like gold so yellow.

14
Long it was, with all their art,
Ere they could apprehend him,
But at the last his valiant heart
No longer could defend him.

15
‘I ner stole horse nor mare in my life,
Nor cloven foot, or any,
But once, sir, of the king’s white steeds,
And I sold them to Bohemia.’

16
Georgy he went up the hill,
And after followed many;
Georgy was hanged in silken string,
The like was never any.

* * * * *

_The burden (here given with only the first stanza) is from time
to time varied._

3^1, 6^1. Oh.

_After 7._ George’s Confession.

210

BONNIE JAMES CAMPBELL

#A.# Herd’s MSS, I, 40, II, 184.

#B.# Finlay’s Scottish Ballads, 1808, I, xxxiii.

#C.# ‘Bonnie George Campbell,’ Smith’s Scotish Minstrel, V, 42.

#D.# Cunningham’s Songs of Scotland, III, 2.

#A# was copied by Sir Walter Scott (with slight variations) into a MS. at Abbotsford, ‘Scottish Songs,’ fol. 68 (1795–1806). The first half is printed from notes of Scott in Laing’s edition of Sharpe’s Ballad Book, pp. 143, 156 f, and to these two stanzas, nearly as here printed, there are added in the second case, p. 157, the following verses, which are evidently modern, with the exception of the last:

His hawk and his hounds they are wandered and gane,
His lady sits dowie and weary her lane,
His bairns wi greetin hae blinded their een,
His croft is unshorn, and his meadow grows green.

Scott subjoins, “I never heard more of this.” He was familiar with Herd’s MSS.

#C#, like many things in the Scotish Minstrel, has passed through editorial hands, whence the ‘never return’ of st. 4, and ‘A plume in his helmet, a sword at his knee,’ st. 5. This copy furnished the starting point for Allan Cunningham, III, 1, who, however, substitutes Finlay’s ‘wife’ for the Minstrel’s ‘bryde,’ and presents her with three bairns.

Motherwell made up his ‘Bonnie George Campbell’ (Minstrelsy, p. 44) from #B#, #C#, #D#. In a manuscript copied out by a granddaughter of Lord Woodhouselee (1840–50), #D# is combined with Cunningham’s ballad.

Motherwell says that this ballad “is probably a lament for one of the adherents of the house of Argyle who fell in the battle of Glenlivet, stricken on Thursday, the third day of October, 1594.” Sir Robert Gordon observes that Argyle lost in this battle his two cousins, Archibald and James Campbell: Genealogical History of Sutherland, p. 229. Maidment, Scotish Ballads, 1868, I, 240, chooses to think that “there can be little doubt” that the ballad refers to the murder of Sir John Campbell of Calder by one of his own surname, in 1591, and alters the title accordingly to ‘Bonnie John Campbell.’ Motherwell has at least a name to favor his supposition. But Campbells enow were killed, in battle or feud, before and after 1590, to forbid a guess as to an individual James or George grounded upon the slight data afforded by the ballad.

Motherwell’s ballad is translated by Wolff, Halle der Völker, I, 79, Hausschatz, p. 225.

* * * * *

A

Herd’s MSS, I, 40, II, 184.

1
O it’s up in the Highlands,
and along the sweet Tay,
Did bonie James Campbell
ride monie a day.

2
Sadled and bridled,
and bonie rode he;
Hame came horse, hame came sadle,
but neer hame cam he.

3
And doun cam his sweet sisters,
greeting sae sair,
And down cam his bonie wife,
tearing her hair.

4
‘My house is unbigged,
my barn’s unbeen,
My corn’s unshorn,
my meadow grows green.’

* * * * * *

* * * * *

B

Finlay’s Scottish Ballads, 1808, I, xxxiii.

1
Saddled and briddled
and booted rade he;
Toom hame cam the saddle,
but never cam he.

2
Down cam his auld mither,
greetin fu sair,
And down cam his bonny wife,
wringin her hair.

3
Saddled and briddled
and booted rade he;
Toom hame cam the saddle,
but never cam he.

* * * * *

C

Smith’s Scotish Minstrel, V, 42.

1
Hie upon Hielands,
and laigh upon Tay,
Bonnie George Campbell
rode out on a day.

2
He saddled, he bridled,
and gallant rode he,
And hame cam his guid horse,
but never cam he.

3
Out cam his mother dear,
greeting fu sair,
And out cam his bonnie bryde,
riving her hair.

4
‘The meadow lies green,
the corn is unshorn,
But bonnie George Campbell
will never return.’

5
Saddled and bridled
and booted rode he,
A plume in his helmet,
a sword at his knee.

6
But toom cam his saddle,
all bloody to see,
Oh, hame cam his guid horse,
but never cam he!

* * * * *

D

Cunningham’s Songs of Scotland, III, 2, communicated by Mr
Yellowlees.

1
High upon Highlands,
and low upon Tay,
Bonnie George Campbell
rode out on a day.

2
‘My meadow lies green,
and my corn is unshorn,
My barn is to build,
and my babe is unborn.

* * * * *

_#A# is written, and #C# printed, in stanzas of four long lines._

#A.# 1^1. _Sharpe_, 143, O _wanting_.

1^2. _Scottish Songs and Sharpe_, and _wanting_.

2^2. _Scottish Songs_, and gallant, _as in_ #C#.

2^4. _Sharpe_, but hame cam na he.

4^4. _Scottish Songs_, meadows grow green.

211

BEWICK AND GRAHAM

#a.# ‘The Song of Bewick and Grahame,’ a stall-copy, in octavo,
British Museum, 11621. e. 1. (4.) #b.# ‘A Remarkable and Memorable
Song of Sir Robert Bewick and the Laird Graham,’ broadside,
Roxburghe Ballads, III, 624. #c.# ‘A Remarkable and Memorable Song
of Sir Robert Bewick and the Laird Graham,’ broadside, Percy papers.
#d.# ‘Bewick and Graham’s Garland,’ M. Angus and Son, Newcastle,
Bell Ballads, Abbotsford Library, P. 5, vol. i, No 60. #e.#
Broadside, in “A Jolly Book of Garlands collected by John Bell in
Newcastle,” No 29, Abbotsford Library, E. 1. #f.# ‘Bewick and
Graham,’ chapbook, Newcastle, W. Fordyce. #g.# “Scotch Ballads,
Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 145, Abbotsford. #h.# ‘Chirstie
Græme,’ the same, No 89.

No copy of this ballad earlier than the last century is known to me. The Museum Catalogue gives a conjectural date of 1740 to #a# and of 1720 to #b#, and, conjecturally again, assigns both to Newcastle. #c#, #d#, #e# are also without date. #c# may be as old as #b#; #d#, #e# are at least not old, and #f# is of this century. The ballad was given under the title ‘Græme and Bewick,’ in Scott’s Minstrelsy, 1803, III, 93, “from the recitation of a gentleman” who remembered it but imperfectly. In a succeeding edition, III, 66, 1833, deficiencies were partly supplied and some different readings adopted “from a copy obtained by the recitation of an ostler in Carlisle.” The first copy (entitled ‘Chirstie Græme’) was sent Scott by William Laidlaw, January 3, 1803 (Letters, vol. i, No 78), as taken down by him from the singing of Mr Walter Grieve, in Craik, on Borthwick Water. It is preserved in “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 89, Abbotsford (#h#); and in the same volume, No 145, is what is shown by internal evidence to be the ostler’s copy (#g#). Both copies were indisputably derived from print, though #h# may have passed through several mouths. #g# agrees with #b-f# closely as to minute points of phraseology which it is difficult to believe that a reciter would have retained. It looks more like an immediate, though faulty, transcript from print. Of many deviations, though most may be charge-able to a bad copyist, or, if one pleases, a bad memory, others indicate an original which differed in some particulars from #b-f#; and the same may perhaps be true of #h#, which is, however, of only very trifling value.[92]

‘The Brothers-in-Arms,’ Maidment, Scotish Ballads and Songs, 1868, II, 150, is Scott’s later copy.

Old Graham and old Bewick are drinking together at Carlisle. Graham proposes the health of their respective sons. Bewick demurs. Young Graham is no peer for young Bewick, who is good at both books and arms, whereas Graham is no scholar. Old Graham goes home mortified and angry, repeats to his son Christy what Bewick had said, and bids him, as he would have his blessing, prove that he can at least hold his own in a fight with young Bewick. Christy is ‘faith and troth,’ or sworn-brother, to young Bewick, and begs his father to forbear. The father insists; Christy may make his choice, to fight with young Bewick or with himself. Christy, upon reflection, concludes that it would be a less crime to kill his sworn-brother than to kill his father, but swears that, should it be his lot to kill his friend, he will never come home alive. He arms himself and goes to seek his comrade. Bewick, who has been teaching his five scholars their fence, and apparently also their psalms, is walking in his father’s close, with his sword under his arm, and sees a man in armor riding towards him. Recognizing Graham, he welcomes him affectionately. Graham informs him that he has come to fight with him, rehearses the scene with old Graham, and puts by all his friend’s remonstrances and the suggestion that the fathers may be reconciled through arbitrators. Forced to fight, Bewick vows, as Graham had done, that, if it be his fortune to kill his brother, he will never go home alive. Graham throws off his armor that he may have no advantage; they fight two hours with no result, and then Graham gives Bewick one of those ‘ackward’ strokes which have determined several duels in foregoing ballads. The wound is deadly; Bewick intreats Graham to fly the country; Graham swears that his vow shall be kept, leaps on his sword and is the first to die. Old Bewick comes up and is disposed to congratulate his son on his victory. Young Bewick begs him to make one grave for both, and to lay young Graham on the sunny side, for he had been the better man. The two fathers indulge in exclamations of grief.

I am persuaded that there was an older and better copy of this ballad than those which are extant. The story is so well composed, proportion is so well kept, on the whole, that it is reasonable to suppose that certain passages (as stanzas 3, 4, 50) may have suffered some injury. There are also phrases which are not up to the mark of the general style, as the hack-rhymester lines at 7^3, 19^2. But it is a fine-spirited ballad as it stands, and very infectious.

“The ballad is remarkable,” observes Sir Walter Scott, “as containing probably the very latest allusion to the institution of brotherhood in arms.” And he goes on to say: “The quarrel of the two old chieftains over their wine is highly in character. Two generations have not elapsed [1803] since the custom of drinking deep and taking deadly revenge for slight offences produced very tragical events on the border; to which the custom of going armed to festive meetings contributed not a little.”

Scott’s later edition is translated by Loève-Veimars, p. 323; by Rosa Warrens, Schottische Volkslieder der Vorzeit, p. 99, No 22.

* * * * *

1
Old Grahame [he] is to Carlisle gone,
Where Sir Rob_ert_ Bewick there met he;
In arms to the wine they are gone,
And drank till they were both merry.

2
Old Grahame he took up the cup,
And said, ‘Brother Bewick, here’s to thee;
And here’s to our two sons at home,
For they live best in our country.’

3
‘Nay, were thy son as good as mine,
And of some books he could but read,
With sword and buckler by his side,
To see how he could save his head,

4
‘They might have been calld two bold brethren
Where ever they did go or ride;
They might [have] been calld two bold brethren,
They might have crackd the Border-side.

5
‘Thy son is bad, and is but a lad,
And bully to my son cannot be;
For my son Bewick can both write and read,
And sure I am that cannot he.’

6
‘I put him to school, but he would not learn,
I bought him books, but he would not read;
But my blessing he’s never have
Till I see how his hand can save his head.’

7
Old Grahame called for an account,
And he askd what was for to pay;
There he paid a crown, so it went round,
Which was all for good wine and hay.

8
Old Grahame is into the stable gone,
Where stood thirty good steeds and three;
He’s taken his own steed by the head,
And home rode he right wantonly.

9
When he came home, there did he espy,
A loving sight to spy or see,
There did he espy his own three sons,
Young Christy Grahame, the foremost was he.

10
There did he espy his own three sons,
Young Christy Grahame, the foremost was he:
‘Where have you been all day, father,
That no counsel you would take by me?’

11
‘Nay, I have been in Carlisle town,
Where Sir Robert Bewick there met me;
He said thou was bad, and calld thee a lad,
And a baffled man by thou I be.

12
‘He said thou was bad, and calld thee a lad,
And bully to his son cannot be;
For his son Bewick can both write and read,
And sure I am that cannot thee.

13
‘I put thee to school, but thou would not learn.
I bought thee books, but thou would not read;
But my blessing thou’s never have
Till I see with Bewick thou can save thy head.’

14
‘Oh, pray forbear, my father dear;
That ever such a thing should be!
Shall I venture my body in field to fight
With a man that’s faith and troth to me?’

15
‘What’s that thou sayst, thou limmer loon?
Or how dare thou stand to speak to me?
If thou do not end this quarrel soon,
Here is my glove thou shalt fight me.’

16
Christy stoopd low unto the ground,
Unto the ground, as you’ll understand:
‘O father, put on your glove again,
The wind hath blown it from your hand.’

17
‘What’s that thou sayst, thou limmer loon?
Or how dare thou stand to speak to me?
If thou do not end this quarrel soon,
Here is my hand thou shalt fight me.’

18
Christy Grahame is to his chamber gone,
And for to study, as well might be,
Whether to fight with his father dear,
Or with his bully Bewick he.

19
‘If it be [my] fortune my bully to kill,
As you shall boldly understand,
In every town that I ride through,
They’ll say, There rides a brotherless man!

20
‘Nay, for to kill my bully dear,
I think it will be a deadly sin;
And for to kill my father dear,
The blessing of heaven I neer shall win.

21
‘O give me your blessing, father,’ he said,
‘And pray well for me for to thrive;
If it be my fortune my bully to kill,
I swear I’ll neer come home alive.’

22
He put on his back a good plate-jack,
And on his head a cap of steel,
With sword and buckler by his side;
O gin he did not become them well!

23
‘O fare thee well, my father dear!
And fare thee well, thou Carlisle town!
If it be my fortune my bully to kill,
I swear I’ll neer eat bread again.’

24
Now we’ll leave talking of Christy Grahame,
And talk of him again belive;
But we will talk of bonny Bewick,
Where he was teaching his scholars five.

25
Now when he had learnd them well to fence,
To handle their swords without any doubt,
He’s taken his own sword under his arm,
And walkd his father’s close about.

26
He lookd between him and the sun,
To see what farleys he coud see;
There he spy’d a man with armour on,
As he came riding over the lee.

27
‘I wonder much what man yon be
That so boldly this way does come;
I think it is my nighest friend,
I think it is my bully Grahame.

28
‘O welcome, O welcome, bully Grahame!
O man, thou art my dear, welcome!
O man, thou art my dear, welcome!
For I love thee best in Christendom.’

29
‘Away, away, O bully Bewick,
And of thy bullyship let me be!
The day is come I never thought on;
Bully, I’m come here to fight with thee.’

30
‘O no! not so, O bully Grahame!
That eer such a word should spoken be!
I was thy master, thou was my scholar:
So well as I have learnëd thee.’

31
‘My father he was in Carlisle town,
Where thy father Bewick there met he;
He said I was bad, and he calld me a lad,
And a baffled man by thou I be.’

32
‘Away, away, O bully Grahame,
And of all that talk, man, let us be!
We’ll take three men of either side
To see if we can our fathers agree.’

33
‘Away, away, O bully Bewick,
And of thy bullyship let me be!
But if thou be a man, as I trow thou art,
Come over this ditch and fight with me.’

34
‘O no! not so, my bully Grahame!
That eer such a word should spoken be!
Shall I venture my body in field to fight
With a man that’s faith and troth to me?’

35
‘Away, away, O bully Bewick,
And of all that care, man, let us be!
If thou be a man, as I trow thou art,
Come over this ditch and fight with me.’

36
‘Now, if it be my fortune thee, Grahame, to kill,
As God’s will’s, man, it all must be;
But if it be my fortune thee, Grahame, to kill,
’Tis home again I’ll never gae.’

37
‘Thou art of my mind then, bully Bewick,
And sworn-brethren will we be;
If thou be a man, as I trow thou art,
Come over this ditch and fight with me.’

38
He flang his cloak from [off] his shoulders,
His psalm-book out of his hand flang he,
He clapd his hand upon the hedge,
And oer lap he right wantonly.

39
When Grahame did see his bully come,
The salt tear stood long in his eye:
‘Now needs must I say that thou art a man,
That dare venture thy body to fight with me.

40
‘Now I have a harness on my back;
I know that thou hath none on thine;
But as little as thou hath on thy back,
Sure as little shall there be on mine.’

41
He flang his jack from off his back,
His steel cap from his head flang he;
He’s taken his sword into his hand,
He’s tyed his horse unto a tree.

42
Now they fell to it with two broa[d swords],
For two long hours fought Bewick [and he];
Much sweat was to be seen on them both,
But never a drop of blood to see.

43
Now Grahame gave Bewick an ackward stroke,
An ackward stroke surely struck he;
He struck him now under the left breast,
Then down to the ground as dead fell he.

44
‘Arise, arise, O bully Bewick,
Arise, and speak three words to me!
Whether this be thy deadly wound,
Or God and good surgeons will mend thee.’

45
‘O horse, O horse, O bully Grahame,
And pray do get thee far from me!
Thy sword is sharp, it hath wounded my heart,
And so no further can I gae.

46
‘O horse, O horse, O bully Grahame,
And get thee far from me with speed!
And get thee out of this country quite!
That none may know who’s done the deed.’

47
‘O if this be true, my bully dear,
The words that thou dost tell to me,
The vow I made, and the vow I’ll keep;
I swear I’ll be the first that die.

48
Then he stuck his sword in a moody-hill,
Where he lap thirty good foot and three;
First he bequeathed his soul to God,
And upon his own sword-point lap he.

49
Now Grahame he was the first that died,
And then came Robin Bewick to see;
‘Arise, arise, O son!’ he said,
‘For I see thou’s won the victory.

50
‘Arise, arise, O son!’ he said,
‘For I see thou’s won the victory:’
‘[Father, co]uld ye not drunk your wine at home,
[And le]tten me and my brother be?

51
‘Nay, dig a grave both low and wide,
And in it us two pray bury;
But bury my bully Grahame on the sun-side,
For I’m sure he’s won the victory.’

52
Now we’ll leave talking of these two brethren,
In Carlisle town where they lie slain,
And talk of these two good old men,
Where they were making a pitiful moan.

53
With that bespoke now Robin Bewick:
‘O man, was I not much to blame?
I have lost one of the liveliest lads
That ever was bred unto my name.’

54
With that bespoke my good lord Grahame:
‘O man, I have lost the better block;
I have lost my comfort and my joy,
I have lost my key, I have lost my lock.

55
‘Had I gone through all Ladderdale,
And forty horse had set on me,
Had Christy Grahame been at my back,
So well as he woud guarded me.’

56
I have no more of my song to sing,
But two or three words to you I’ll name;
But ‘twill be talk’d in Carlisle town
That these two [old] men were all the blame.

* * * * *

#a.#

The Song of Bewick and Grahame: containing an account how the Lord
Grahame met with Sir Robert Bewick in the town of Carlisle, and,
going to the tavern, a dispute happened betwixt them which of
their sons was the better man; how Grahame rode away in a
passion, and, meeting with his son, persuaded him to go and
fight young Bewick, which he did accordingly; and how it prov’d
both their deaths.

Licensd and enterd according to order.

2^4. love, #b-g# _have_ live; #h#, like us.

11^4. thou. _Cf._ 31^4.

13^4. you can.

18^2. might he.

25^1, 36^1, 40^1, 42^1, 43^1, 49^1. Nay _for_ Now.

37^1. art in mind then. #b#, #c#, #e#, #f#. art then of my mind.

40^{2,4}. of _for_ on.

41^3. spear _for_ sword: so #b-f#, _but_ #g#, #k#, sword.

42^{1,2}, 50^{3,4}. _The top corner is torn off: cf._ #b-f#.

#b-f.#

A remarkable and memorable Song [#f#, Remarkable and memorable
History] of Sir Robert Bewick and the Laird Graham, giving an
account of Laird Graham’s meeting with Sir Robert Bewick in the
town of Carlisle, and, they going to a tavern, a dispute
happened betwixt them which of their sons was the best man. How
Graham rode home in a passion, and caused his son to fight young
Bewick, which proved their deaths.

1^1. #b#, #c#, #d#, #e#. he is. #f.# he has.

1^4. #b.# drink.

2^1. #d.# he _wanting_.

2^4. live best.

3^4. #b.# safe.

4^2. do go.

4^3. might have.

5^1. he is. 5^{3,4}. _Wanting_.

6^4. how he can.

7^1. he calld.

7^2. what there was to.

7^4. #b#, #d#, #e#, #f#. good _wanting._

8^1. is to.

9^1. came there he did.

9^3. #d.# spy.

10^{1,2}. _Wanting._

10^4. you’ll take.

11^1. been at.

11^{3,4}. #d.# _Wanting._

11^3. #f.# wast. #b.# calld thou. #e.# he called.

11^4. #b.# a _wanting_. #b#, #c#, #e#, #f#. by thee.

12^1. #d#, #f#. wast. #e.# he called.

12^4. #b#, #c#, #d#, #e#. cannot be.

13^1. #b#, #d#, #f#. wouldst.

13^2. #b#, #d#, #e#, #f#. wouldst.

13^3. #e.# blessings.

13^4. d, e. see if with. b, d, e, f. thou canst.

14^3. #d.# in a.

15^1. #d.# you say, you. #e.# thou says.

15^2. #d#, #e#, #f#. dare you.

16^1. #d#, #e#. Christy he.

17^2. dare you. #f.# Or _wanting_.

17^3. If you.

18^2. might be. #c.# for no study, _wrongly_.

19^1. be my.

19^3. #d.# town as.

20^1. my brother.

20^2. it were.

20^4. #d.# blessings.

21^2. me then to.

21^4. #b#, #d#, #e#, #f#. I shall, #b#-#f#. never.

22^1. good old. #b#, #d#, #e#, #f#. jacket. #c.# jack.

22^4. weel.

23^1. #b.# O fare the _torn away_. #d.# weel.

23^2. #b.# And fa _torn away_.

23^4. #c#, #d#, #e#. I’ll swear.

24^1. leave off. #d#, #e#, #f#. we leave.

24^2. #b#, #c#, #f#. of them.

25^1. #b#, #d#, #e#, #f#. Now, #c.# Nay. #b#-#f#. learned: well
_wanting_.

25^3. own _wanting_.

26^1. #b#, #c#. between them.

26^3. #b#, #c#, #d#, #e#. espy’d. #f.# And espied.

27^2. doth.

27^3. #b.# is _wanting_.

28^1. my bully.

29^3. #b#, #c#, #e#, #f#. come that I neer. #d.# come neer.

29^4. #b#, #c#, #d#, #e#. come hither.

30^1. #d.# my bully.

30^3. #b#, #d#, #e#, #f#. and thou wast. #c.# and thou was.

30^4. #b#, #c#, #d#. as _wanting_, #b.# have _wanting_.

31^3. #d#, #e#, #f#. he _wanting_.

31^4. #d.# a _wanting_. #f.# by you.

32^2. all _wanting_.

32^3. on either. #b#, #c.# make.

33^3, 35^3, 37^3. #b#, #c#, #e#. I true.

33^3. #d.# thou be.

34^3. #d.# in a.

34^4. #b.# truth.

35^1. thou _for_ O.

35^2. all that _wanting_.

36^1. #b#, #c#, #d#, #e#. Nay. #f.# Now.

36^2. will. #b#, #c#. almost.

36^3. #f.# But _wanting_.

36^4. #d.# I’d.

37^1. #b#, #c#, #e#, #f#. art then of my mind. #d.# then
_wanting_.

37^2. #d#, #e#, #f#. we will.

38^1. from off. #d.# flung. #b.# shoulder.

38^2. #b#, #c#, #d#, #e#. book from off (#d#, from) his shoulders.

39^2. tears.

39^3. that _wanting_.

40^1. Nay.

40^2. none on. #f.# hast.

40^3. #c#, #d#, #f#. hast.

40^4. be on. #f#. Sure _wanting_.

41^1. jacket.

41^2. #b#, #c#, #d#, #e#. from off. #f.# cap of steel.

41^3. his spear.

42^1. #b#, #d#, #e#, #f#. Now. #c.# Nay. #b#-#f#. broad swords.

42^2. and he.

43^1. #b#, #d#, #e#, #f#. Now. #c.# Nay.

43^3. #f.# now _wanting_.

44^3. #d#, #e#. Were this to be.

45^3. #b#, #c#, #f#. it is. #d.# has wounded.

46^4. That not one.

47^1. Oh.

47^2. #b#, #d#, #e#. doth.

47^4. #d#, #e#, #f#. first to.

48^1. #b#, #c#. struck, #b#-#f#. mould hill.

48^2. #b#, #c#, #d#, #e#. Then he leapd. #f.# And he leapt.
#b#-#f#. feet.

48^4. sword leapd he.

49^1. #b#, #d#, #e#, #f#. Now. #c.# Nay.

49^2. then Robert (#d#, #e#, #f#, Sir Robert) Bewick came. #c.#
see _wanting_.

50^{1,2}. #d#, #f#. _Wanting_.

50^3. #b#, #c#, #d#, #e#. Father, could you not drink. #f.# could
not you drink.

50^4. And letten: my bully.

51^1. #f.# Now.

52^1. leave of, off: these bold.

52^2. they were.

53^1. #b#, #c#, #d#, #e#. Robert, #b.# Berwick.

54^1. #d#, #e#, #f#. laird.

55^1. Lauderdale.

55^2. #d.# horses set.

55^4. well he would have.

56^2. #b#, #d#, #e#, #f#. to you _wanting_. #f.# I will.

56^3. #f.# But _wanting_.

56^4. #b#, #c#. two old.

_Readings found only in #f# which have an editorial character._

6^3. he shall.

12^4. And sure I cannot say that of thee.

13^3. thou shalt.

13^4. Till with Bewick thou canst.

22^4. And O he did become.

29^4. Bully _wanting_: I’m hither come to fight with thee.

38^2. psalm-book from his pouch.

44^3. Is this to be thy deadly wound.

53^1. And now up spake Sir Robert Bewick.

54^1. With that up spake my good laird.

#g.#

(_Only partially collated._)

1^2. he is.

2^2. Billy Bewick.

2^4. leave (==live).

5^2. billy, _and always_.

5^{3,4}. _Wanting._

6^4. see with Bewick he can. _Cf._ 13^4.

7^4. good wine, _as in_ #a#, #c#.

10^{1,2}. _Wanting._

10^4. you will take.

12^4. cannot be.

13^{1,2}. would.

13^3. thou shall.

14^2. should spoken be. _Cf._ 30^2.

20^1. my brother.

20^2. think that were.

22^1. good ould jack.

24^1. leave of.

25^1, 36^1, 40^1, 42^1, 43^1, 44^1. Nay.

25^1. had teacht.

28^1. my billey.

30^1. my billy.

30^4. have teacht.

31^4. by thou.

35^1. thou _for_ O.

36^2. will.

36^3. Nay _for_ But.

37^1. then _wanting_.

38^1. from of his back.

38^2. book from his shoulders.

39^2. tear.

39^4. in feald to fight.

40^4. Sure _wanting_.

41^1. jacket from.

41^3. sword _for_ spear: _much better_.

48^1. mould hill.

48^2. feet.

48^4. lept.

50^4. my billy.

51^3. sunney side.

52^1. leave of: thease bould.

52^2. they were.

53^4. was born.

55^4. well he would a.

56^4. two old.

#h.#

2^4. like us best.

5^2. billie, _and always_.

41^3. he stuck his sword into the grund.

48^1. moudie hill.

51^3. on the sunny side.

The Common Place Book of Ancient and Modern Ballad, etc., p. 292,
_gives_ 18 _thus_:

Then Christie Graham’s to his chamber gane,
And his thoughts within him made him sick,
Whether he suld fight wi his auld father,
Or wi his billie, learnd Bewick.

212

THE DUKE OF ATHOLE’S NURSE

#A.# Cromek’s Select Scotish Songs, 1810, II, 196.

#B.# Skene MS., p. 10.

#C.# ‘Duke of Athole’s Gates,’ Kinloch MSS, I, 335.

#D.# ‘Duke of Athole’s Nurse,’ Kinloch MSS, I, 337.

#E.# #a.# ‘Duke o Athole’s Nourice,’ Kinloch MSS, VII, 171. #b.# ‘The
Duke of Athol’s Nourice,’ Kinloch’s Ancient Scottish Ballads, p.
127.

#F.# ‘The Duke of Athole’s Nurse.’ #a.# Buchan’s Ballads of the North
of Scotland, II, 23. #b.# Christie’s Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 80.

#M#, #N# of No 214 have stanzas belonging here. #M# 1, 3 = #A# 3, 5; #N# 4, 6, 7 = #A# 2, 4, 5. #A# 1^{1,2}, 2 nearly, are found in No 213, ‘Sir James the Rose,’ 4^{1,2}, 5, where also there is a treacherous leman.

#B.# The ‘new-come darling’ of the Duke of Athole offers the duke’s nurse a ring if she will carry a word to her leman. This leman had previously been the nurse’s lover, and comes to tell her that another has now possession of his heart. The nurse plans revenge, but dissimulates; she tells the faithless fellow to go for the night to an ale-house, and she will meet him there in the morning. But instead of the nurse he sees a band of men, her seven brothers (nine brothers, #F#), coming towards the house, and easily divines that they are come to slay him. He appeals to the landlady to save him; she dresses him in woman’s clothes and sets him to her baking. The seven brothers ask the landlady if she had a lodger last night; they are come to pay his reckoning. A lodger had been there, but he did not stay till morning. They search the house and stab the beds, often passing the sham baking-maid without detecting the disguise.

#C-F# have nothing about the ‘new-come darling,’ but begin at once with the nurse, who longs for her lover, and would give her half-year’s fee to see him. He appears, and avows to her that another woman has gained his heart.

* * * * *

A

Cromek’s Select Scotish Songs, 1810, II, 196, 194; sent, with other
fragments, by Robert Burns to William Tytler, August, 1790; stanzas
2–6.

* * * * *

1
‘Where shall I gang, my ain true love?
Where shall I gang to hide me?
For weel ye ken i yere father’s bowr
It wad be death to find me.’

2
‘O go you to yon tavern-house,
An there count owre your lawin,
An, if I be a woman true,
I’ll meet you in the dawin.’

3
O he’s gone to yon tavern-house,
An ay he counted his lawin,
An ay he drank to her guid health
Was to meet him in the dawin.

4
O he’s gone to yon tavern-house,
An counted owre his lawin,
When in there cam three armed men,
To meet him in the dawin.

5
‘O woe be unto woman’s wit!
It has beguiled many;
She promised to come hersel,
But she sent three men to slay me.’

* * * * *

B

Skene MS., p. 10; taken down in the north of Scotland, 1802–3.

1
‘Ye are the Duke of Athol’s nurse,
And I’m the new-come darling;
I’ll gie you my gay gold rings
To get ae word of my leman.’

2
‘I am the Duke of Athol’s nurse,
And ye’re the new-come darling;
Keep well your gay gold rings,
Ye sall get twa words o your leman.’

3
He leand oure his saddle-bow,
It was not for to kiss her:
‘Anither woman has my heart,
And I but come here to see ye.’

4
‘If anither woman has your heart,
O dear, but I am sorry!
Ye hie you down to yon ale house,
And stay untill ‘t be dawing,
And if I be a woman true
I’ll meet you in the dawing.’

5
He did him down to yon ale-house,
And drank untill ’twas dawing;
He drank the bonnie lassie’s health
That was to clear his lawing.

6
He lookit out of a shot-window,
To see if she was coming,
And there he seed her seven brithers,
So fast as they were running!

7
He went up and down the house,
Says, ‘Landlady, can you save me?
For yonder comes her seven brithers,
And they are coming to slay me.’

8
So quick she minded her on a wile
How she might protect him!
She dressd him in a suit of woman’s attire
And set him to her baking.

9
‘Had you a quarterer here last night,
Or staid he to the dawing?
Shew us the room the squire lay in,
We are come to clear his lawing.’

10
‘I had a quarterer here last night,
But he staid not to the dawing;
He called for a pint, and paid as he went,
You have nothing to do with his lawing.’

11
They searchd the house baith up and down,
The curtains they spaird not to rive em,
And twenty times they passd
The squire at his baking.

* * * * *

C

Kinloch MSS, I, 335.

1
As I went down by the Duke of Athole’s gates,
Where the bells of the court were ringing,
And there I heard a fair maid say,
O if I had but ae sight o my Johnie!

2
‘O here is your Johnie just by your side;
What have ye to say to your Johnie?
O here is my hand, but anither has my heart,
So ye’ll never get more o your Johnie.’

3
‘O ye may go down to yon ale-house,
And there do sit till the dawing;
And call for the wine that is very, very fine,
And I’ll come and clear up your lawing.’

4
So he’s gane down to yon ale-house,
And he has sat till the dawing;
And he’s calld for the wine that’s very, very fine,
But she neer cam to clear up his lawing.

5
Lang or the dawing he oure the window looks,
To see if his true-love was coming,
And there he spied twelve weel armd boys,
Coming over the plainstanes running.

6
‘O landlady, landlady, what shall I do?
For my life it’s not worth a farthing!’
‘O young man,’ said she, ‘tak counsel by me,
And I will be your undertaking.

7
‘I will clothe you in my own body-clothes
And I’ll send you like a girl to the baking:’
And loudly, loudly they rapped at the door,
And loudly, loudly they rappëd.

8
‘O had you any strangers here late last night?
Or were they lang gane or the dawing?
O had you any strangers here late last night?
We are now come to clear up his lawing.’

9
‘O I had a stranger here late last night,
But he was lang gane or the dawing;
He called for a pint, and he paid it as he went,
And ye’ve no more to do with his lawing.’

10
‘O show me the room that your stranger lay in,
If he was lang gane or the dawing:’
She showed them the room that her stranger lay in,
But he was lang gane or the dawing.

11
O they stabbed the feather-bed all round and round,
And the curtains they neer stood to tear them;
And they gade as they cam, and left a’ things undone,
And left the young squire by his baking.

* * * * *

D

Kinloch MSS, I, 337.

1
As I cam in by the Duke of Athole’s gate,
I heard a fair maid singing,
Wi a bonny baby on her knee,
And the bells o the court were ringing.

2
‘O it’s I am the Duke of Athole’s nurse,
And the place does well become me;
But I would gie a’ my half-year’s fee
Just for a sight o my Johnie.

* * * * * *

3
‘If ye’ll gae down to yon ale-house,
And stop till it be dawing,
And ca for a pint o the very, very best,
And I’ll come and clear up your lawing.’

4
O he’s gane down to yon ale-house,
And stopt till it was dawing;
He ca’d for a pint o the very, very best,
But she cam na to clear up his lawing.

5
He looked out at the chamber-window,
To see if she was coming;
And there he spied ten armed men,
Across the plain coming running.

6
‘O landlady, landlady, what shall I do?
For my life is not worth a farthing;
I paid you a guinea for my lodging last night,
But I fear I’ll never see sun shining.’

7
‘If ye will be advised by me,
I’ll be your undertaking;
I’ll dress you up in my ain body-clothes
And set you to the baking.’

8
So loudly at the door they rapt,
So loudly are they calling,
‘O had you a stranger here last night,
Or is he within your dwalling?’

9
‘O I had a stranger here last night,
But he wos gane or dawing;
He ca’d for a pint, and he paid it or he went,
And I hae nae mair to do wi his lawing.’

10
They stabd the feather-beds round and round,
The curtains they spared na to tear them;
But they went as they came, and left a’ things undone,
And the young man busy baking.

* * * * *

E

#a.# Kinloch MSS, VII, 171; from the recitation of Mrs Charles,
Torry. #b.# Kinloch’s Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 127.

1
‘I am the Duke o Athole’s nurse,
My part does weill become me,
And I wad gie aw my half-year’s fee
For ae sicht o my Johnie.’

2
‘Keep weill, keep weill your half-year’s fee,
For ye’ll soon get a sicht o your Johnie;
But anither woman has my heart,
And I’m sorry for to leave ye.’

3
‘Ye’ll dow ye doun to yon changehouse,
And ye’ll drink till the day be dawin;
At ilka pint’s end ye’ll drink my health out,
And I’ll come and pay for the lawin.’

4
Ay he ranted and he sang,
And drank till the day was dawin,
And ay he drank the bonnie lassy’s health
That was coming to pay the lawin.

5
He spared na the sack, tho it was dear,
The wine nor the sugar-candy,
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .

6
He’s dune him to the shot-window,
To see an she was coming,
And there he spied twelve armed men,
That oure the plain cam rinning.

7
He’s dune him doun to the landlady,
To see gin she wad protect him;
She’s buskit him up into women’s claiths
And set him till a baking.

8
Sae loudly as they rappit at the yett,
Sae loudly as they callit,
‘Had ye onie strangers here last nicht,
That drank till the day was dawin?’

* * * * * *

* * * * *

F

#a.# Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 23. #b.#
Christie’s Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 80.

1
As I gaed in yon greenwood-side,
I heard a fair maid singing;
Her voice was sweet, she sang sae complete
That all the woods were ringing.

2
‘O I’m the Duke o Athole’s nurse,
My post is well becoming;
But I woud gie a’ my half-year’s fee
For ae sight o my leman.’

3
‘Ye say, ye’re the Duke o Athole’s nurse,
Your post is well becoming;
Keep well, keep well your half-year’s fee,
Ye’se hae twa sights o your leman.’

4
He leand him ower his saddle-bow
And cannilie kissd his dearie:
‘Ohon and alake! anither has my heart,
And I darena mair come near thee.’

5
‘Ohon and alake! if anither hae your heart,
These words hae fairly undone me;
But let us set a time, tryst to meet again,
Then in gude friends you will twine me.

6
‘Ye will do you down to yon tavern-house
And drink till the day be dawing,
And, as sure as I ance had a love for you,
I’ll come there and clear your lawing.

7
‘Ye’ll spare not the wine, altho it be fine,
Nae Malago, tho it be rarely,
But ye’ll aye drink the bonnie lassie’s health
That’s to clear your lawing fairly.’

8
Then he’s done him down to yon tavern-house
And drank till day was dawing,
And aye he drank the bonny lassie’s health
That was coming to clear his lawing.

9
And aye as he birled, and aye as he drank,
The gude beer and the brandy,
He spar’d not the wine, altho it was fine,
The sack nor the sugar candy.

10
‘It’s a wonder to me,’ the knight he did say,
‘My bonnie lassie’s sae delaying;
She promisd, as sure as she loved me ance,
She woud be here by the dawing.’

11
He’s done him to a shott-window,
A little before the dawing,
And there he spied her nine brothers bauld,
Were coming to betray him.

12
‘Where shall I rin? where shall I gang?
Or where shall I gang hide me?
She that was to meet me in friendship this day
Has sent nine men to slay me!’

13
He’s gane to the landlady o the house,
Says, ‘O can you supply me?
For she that was to meet me in friendship this day
Has sent nine men to slay me.’

14
She gae him a suit o her ain female claise
And set him to the baking;
The bird never sang mair sweet on the bush
Nor the knight sung at the baking.

15
As they came in at the ha-door,
Sae loudly as they rappit!
And when they came upon the floor,
Sae loudly as they chappit!

16
‘O had ye a stranger here last night,
Who drank till the day was dawing?
Come show us the chamber where he lyes in,
We’ll shortly clear his lawing.’

17
‘I had nae stranger here last night
That drank till the day was dawing;
But ane that took a pint, and paid it ere he went,
And there’s naething to clear o his lawing.’

18
A lad amang the rest, being o a merry mood,
To the young knight fell a-talking;
The wife took her foot and gae him a kick,
Says, Be busy, ye jilt, at your baking.

19
They stabbed the house baith but and ben,
The curtains they spared nae riving,
And for a’ that they did search and ca,
For a kiss o the knight they were striving.

#E. a.#

1^1. nurse _altered to_ nurice.

3^3. drink the bonnie out, _originally_.

4^1. drank _struck out for_ sang.

7^2. and _struck out before_ gin.

8^2. callit _changed in pencil to_ were calling.

#b.#

_The printed copy seems to have been made up from_ #a# _and
Kinloch’s other versions._

1. _Preceded by these two lines, taken from_ #D#:

As I cam in by Athol’s yetts,
I heard a fair maid singing.

1^2. And I wat it weel does set me.

3^2. ye’ll _omitted_. 3^3. drink the lass’ health.

3^4. That’s coming to pay the. (_This stanza occurs in
Motherwell’s Note-Book,_ p. 46, _where it is credited to a MS._)

_After 3_:

He hied him doun to yon change-house,
And he drank till the day was dawing,
And at ilka pint’s end he drank the lass’ health
That was coming to pay for his lawing.

4^1. and aye.

6^2. see gin she war.

6^3. There he saw the duke and a’ his merry men.

6^4. the hill. 7^1. doun _omitted_.

7^3. She buskit: woman’s.

8^2. they war calling.

8^3. Had ye a young man here yestreen.

_After 8_:

‘He drank but ae pint, and he paid it or he went,
And ye’ve na mair to do wi the lawing.’
They searchit the house a’ round and round,
And they spared na the curtains to tear them,

While the landlady stood upo the stair-head,
Crying, ‘Maid, be busy at your baking!’
They gaed as they cam, and left a’ undone,
And left the bonnie maid at her baking.

#F. b.#

_“Some alterations made from the way it was sung” by the editor’s
maternal grandfather._

4^2. And kindly said, My dearie.

6^3. as you ance had a love for me.

11^4. That were.

12^2. Where shall I gang to hide me.

14^4. Than the.

213

SIR JAMES THE ROSE

‘Sir James the Rose.’ #a.# From a stall-tract of about 1780,
Abbotsford library. #b.# Motherwell’s Minstrelsy, p. 321. #c.# Sir
James the Rose’s Garland, one of a volume of the like from Heber’s
library. #d.# Motherwell’s MS., p. 281; from the recitation of Mrs
Gentles, of Paisley. #e.# Herd’s MSS, I, 82. #f.# The same, II, 42.
#g.# ‘Sir James the Rose,’ Pinkerton’s Scottish Tragic Ballads,
1781, p. 61.

#b#, says Motherwell, “is given as it occurs in early stall-prints, and as it is to be obtained from the recitations of elderly people.” Most of the variations are derived from #d#. #c# may have been printed earlier than #a#, but is astonishingly faulty. #d#, well remembered from print, is what Motherwell meant by “the recitations of elderly people.” #e# was obtained by Herd, probably from recitation, as early as 1776, but must have been learned from print. #f# is #e# with a few missing lines supplied. #g#, says Pinkerton, “is given from a modern edition in one sheet 12mo,” but was beyond question considerably manipulated by the editor. All the important variations are certainly his work.

The copy in Buchan’s Gleanings, p. 9, is #g#. Whitelaw, in his Book of Scotish Ballads, p. 39, has combined #b# and #g#.

Half a dozen lines preserved by Burns, Cromek’s Select Scotish Songs, II, 196 (see the preface to No 212), seem to belong to this ballad.

‘Sir James the Ross, A Historical Ballad’ (sometimes called ‘The Buchanshire Tragedy’), was composed by the youthful Michael Bruce ([+] 1767) upon the story of the popular ballad, and has perhaps enjoyed more favor with “the general” than the original.[93] ‘Elfrida and Sir James of Perth,’ Caw’s Poetical Museum, 1784, p. 290 (probably taken, as most of the pieces are by the collector said to be, from some periodical publication), looks more like an imitation of Bruce’s ballad than of its prototype. It is in fact a stark plagiarism.