Chapter XV: Part III: , p. 24, Part IV, p. xxxi, taken down from James Olver, (2)

12
‘If I tell my name to you, bonnie lassie,
It’s mair than ever I telld ane;
But I will tell to you, bonnie lassie;
I am an earl’s second son.

13
‘I am an earl’s second son,
My father has more children than me;
My eldest brother he heirs the land,
And my father he sent me to the sea.’

14
He put his hand into his pocket,
And he gave her sixty guineas and three,
Saying, Fare thee weel, my lovely young creature,
Ye’ll never get mair of me.

15
As she went down through Edinburgh streets,
The bonnie bells as they did ring,
‘Farewell, fareweel, my bonnie, bonnie lassie,
Ye’ve got the clod that winna cling.’

* * * * * * * *

16
He hadna been ae week at the sea,
Not a week but only five,
Till the king made him a captain sae brave,
And he made the bonnie lassie his wife.

C

Communicated, February, 1873, by Mr David Louden, of Morham, Haddington, as recited by Mrs Richard Dodds, Morham, Loanhead, “aged over seventy.”

1
In Edinburgh, on a summer evening,
Our gentlemen sat drinking wine,
And every one to the window went,
To view the ladies, they went so fine.

2
They drank the wine, and they spilt the beer,
So merrily as the reel went round,
And a’ the healths that was drucken there
Was to the bonnie lass o the hie toun end.

3
Up then spoke a young squire’s son,
And as he spoke it all alone;
‘Oh, I would give a guinea of gold,
And so would I a pint of wine,
And I would make them their licence free
That would welcome this bonnie lassie in.’

4
The ostler’s wife, on hearin this,
So nimbly down the stairs she ran,
And the first toun’s-body that she met
Was the bonnie lass o the hie toun end.

5
‘Mistress, ye maun gang wi me
And get a cup o oor claret wine;
It’s new come oer the ragin sea,
Awat it is baith gude and fine.’

6
‘To gang wi you I daurna stay,
My mither’s wearyin for me in;
I am so beautiful and fine
I am a prey to all young men.’

7
Wi sattin slippers on her feet,
So nimbly up the stair she ran,
And wha so ready as this young squire
To welcome the bonny lassie in.

8
He[’s] taen her by the milk-white hand,
He’s gently led her through the room,
And aye she sighed, and aye she said,
It would be a pity to do me wrong.

9
‘Now, since you’ve taken your will o me,
I pray, kind sir, tell me your name;’
‘Oh yes, my dear, indeed,’ he said
‘But it’s more than I ever did to one.

10
‘I am a squire and a squire’s son,
My faither has fifty ploughs o land,
And I’m a man in the militrie,
And I must away and rank up my men.

11
‘And Jamie Lumsdaine is my name,
From the North Countrie, love, I really came.’

12
About a twelvemonth after that,
He sent a letter owre the main,
And muckle writin was therein,
To the bonnie lass o the hie toun end.

13
About a twelvemonth after that,
He himsel cam owre the main;
He made her Duchess o Douglas Dale,
And to him she’s had a fine young son.

D

Gibb MS., No 14, p. 57. From the recitation of Eppie Fraser, daughter of a tramp, and unable to read, about 1840.

1
All the soldiers in Edinburgh town
Were sitting drinking at the wine,
An all the toasts that were among them
Was a health to the lassie that goes sae fine.

2
Up then spake an officier,
The bravest in the company;
‘To every one I will give a guinea,
A guinea and a pint of wine,
To the ostler’s wife I wald double it a’,
If she’d entice that young lassie in.’

3
The old wife tripped down the stair,
And aye she said, ‘A good morrow, dame!’
And aye she said, an the maid replied,
‘What is your will wi me, madam?’

4
‘It’s not to do you any harm,
Or yet your body any ill,
But, if you would my favour gain,
Come up an taste one glass of wine.’

5
‘My father stands on the stair-head,
Just lookin for me to come in;
I am so proper and so tall
I’m much afraid of your merry men.’

6
‘My merry men, they are all gone out,
An they will not be in till dine;
So, if you would my favour gain,
Come up an taste a glass of wine.’

7
The fair maid tripped up the stair,
The old wife bolted the door behind;
He’s tane her in his arms twa,
Says, O but ye are a bonny thing!

8
Twenty times he kissed her cheek,
An twenty times her bonny chin,
An twenty times her ruby lips:
‘O but ye are a bonny thing!’

* * * * * * * *

9
‘Noo, since ye’ve got your wills o me,
What is your name, I pray you tell;
. . . . . . . .
. . . . where you dwell.’

10
. . . . . . . .
‘My eldest brother, he heirs the land;
I was forced to be a highwayman,
Or else a soldier, as I am.’

11
An aye the lassie she sat an grat,
An aye thae words spak them atween,
An aye the lassie she sat an grat,
And cursed the auld wife that brocht her in.

12
They had na been in Edinburgh
A month, a month but only nine,
When they have got the royal commission
For to march to Aberdeen.

13
An aye the lassie she sat an grat,
An aye thae words spak them atween,
An aye the lassie she sat an grat,
And cursed the auld wife that brocht her in.

14
They had na been in Aberdeen
A month, a month but only one,
When he got on the captain’s coat,
An made her lady o his land.

15
An aye the lassie she sat an sang,
An aye thae words spak them atween,
An aye the lassie she sat an sang,
An hersed the auld wife that brocht her in.

* * * * *

=A.=

1^4. _Qy_, gade?

3^1. _Written_ and af pint gold, _with_ pint _struck out (anticipation of the next line)_.

5^4. now come.

=B.=

_Motherwell, Minstrelsy_, p. xci, _supplies, from a recited version, after 15:_

Aye she sat, and aye she grat,
And kaimd her yellow hair,
And aye she cursd the hostler’s wife,
That wysit her in at the door.

_And after 16:_

Aye she sat, and aye she sang,
And kaimd her yellow hair,
And aye she blessd the hostler’s wife,
That wysit her in at the door.

_Compare_ =D= 13, 15.

291

CHILD OWLET

‘Childe Owlet,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 27; Motherwell’s MS., p. 572.

Lady Erskine invites Child Owlet to be her paramour. Child Owlet revolts at the suggestion; he is sister’s son to Lord Ronald. The lady cuts herself with a penknife sufficiently to draw blood; Lord Ronald hears her moaning, comes in, and asks what blood this is; his wife gives him to understand that Child Owlet has offered her violence. A council is held upon the case, and the youth is condemned to be torn by four horses. There was not a twig or a rush on the moor that was not dropping with his blood.

The chain of gold in the first stanza and the penknife below the bed in the fourth have a false ring, and the story is of the tritest. The ballad seems at best to be a late one, and is perhaps mere imitation, but, for an imitation, the last two stanzas are unusually successful.

1
Lady Erskine sits in her chamber,
Sewing at her silken seam,
A chain of gold for Childe Owlet,
As he goes out and in.

2
But it fell ance upon a day
She unto him did say,
Ye must cuckold Lord Ronald,
For a’ his lands and ley.

3
‘O cease! forbid, madam,’ he says,
‘That this shoud eer be done!
How would I cuckold Lord Ronald,
And me his sister’s son?’

4
Then she’s ta’en out a little penknife,
That lay below her bed,
Put it below her green stay’s cord,
Which made her body bleed.

5
Then in it came him Lord Ronald,
Hearing his lady’s moan;
‘What blood is this, my dear,’ he says,
‘That sparks on the fire-stone?’

6
‘Young Childe Owlet, your sister’s son,
Is now gane frae my bower;
If I hadna been a good woman,
I’d been Childe Owlet’s whore.’

7
Then he has taen him Childe Owlet,
Laid him in prison strong,
And all his men a council held
How they woud work him wrong.

8
Some said they woud Childe Owlet hang,
Some said they woud him burn;
Some said they woud have Childe Owlet
Between wild horses torn.

9
‘There are horses in your stables stand
Can run right speedilie,
And ye will to your stable go,
And wile out four for me.’

10
They put a foal to ilka foot,
And are to ilka hand,
And sent them down to Darling muir,
As fast as they coud gang.

11
There was not a kow in Darling muir,
Nor ae piece o a rind,
But drappit o Childe Owlet’s blude
And pieces o his skin.

12
There was not a kow in Darling muir,
Nor ae piece o a rash,
But drappit o Childe Owlet’s blude
And pieces o his flesh.

292

THE WEST-COUNTRY DAMOSEL’S COMPLAINT

=a.= Douce Ballads, II, fol. 254 b; Roxburghe Ballads, II, 499, Ebsworth, VI, 635. =b.= Douce Ballads, II, 245 b.

Also, Crawford Ballads, No 1331, Euing, 384. All the five: Printed for P. Brooksby, at the Golden-Ball in West-Smithfield, neer the Hospital-gate. (1672-95.)

A maid entreats her lover, William, to marry her or put an end to her life. He unfeelingly bids her go to the wood and live on hips and haws. She leads this life for three months; then, exhausted with the hardship, goes to her sister’s house and begs an alms of food. The sister (who is her rival, st. 18) orders her men to hunt away the wild doe, and they drive her back to the forest, where she lies down and dies. Sweet William comes, stands at her head and her feet, kisses her, gives vent to his repentance and admiration in intense and elaborate expressions, then lies down by her side and dies.

The first eleven stanzas are in a fairly popular tone. It will be observed that the first and third verses rhyme in 12-24, but not in 1-11. The whole may be one man’s work, who may have thought that an elegy should properly be more artificial, both in form and in style, than a story, but I incline to think that the lament is a later attachment.

1
‘When will you marry me, William,
And make me your wedded wife?
Or take you your keen bright sword
And rid me out of my life.’

2
‘Say no more so then, lady,
Say you no more then so,
For you shall into the wild forrest,
And amongst the buck and doe.

3
‘Where thou shalt eat of the hips and haws,
And the roots that are so sweet,
And thou shalt drink of the cold water,
That runs underneath [thy] feet.’

4
Now she had not been in the wild forrest
Passing three months and a day,
But with hunger and cold she had her fill,
Till she was quite worn away.

5
At last she saw a fair tyl’d-house,
And there she swore by the rood
That she would to that fair tyl’d-house,
There for to get her some food.

6
But when she came unto the gates,
Aloud, aloud she cry’d,
An alms, an alms, my own sister!
I ask you for no pride.

7
Her sister calld up her merry men all,
By one, by two, and by three,
And bid them hunt away that wild doe,
As far as ere they could see.

8
They hunted her ore hill and dale,
And they hunted her so sore
That they hunted her into the forrest,
Where her sorrows grew more and more.

9
She laid a stone all at her head,
And another all at her feet,
And down she lay between these two,
Till death had lulld her asleep.

10
When sweet Will came and stood at her head,
And likewise stood at her feet,
A thousand times he kist he[r] cold lips,
Her body being fast asleep.

11
Yea, seaven times he stood at her feet,
And seaven times at her head,
A thousand times he shook her hand,
Although her body was dead.

12
‘Ah wretched me!’ he loudly cry’d,
‘What is it that I have done?
O woud to the powers above I’de dy’d,
When thus I left her alone!

13
‘Come, come, you gentle red-breast now,
And prepare for us a tomb,
Whilst unto cruel Death I bow,
And sing like a swan my doom.

14
‘Why could I ever cruel be
Unto so fair a creature?
Alas! she dy’d for love of me,
The loveliest she in nature!

15
‘For me she left her home so fair
To wander in this wild grove,
And there with sighs and pensive care
She ended her life for love.

16
‘O constancy, in her thou’rt lost!
Now let women boast no more;
She’s fled unto the Elizium coast,
And with her carryd the store.

17
‘O break, my heart, with sorrow filld,
Come, swell, you strong tides of grief!
You that my dear love have killd,
Come, yield in death to me relief.

18
‘Cruel her sister, was’t for me
That to her she was unkind?
Her husband I will never be,
But with this my love be joynd.

19
‘Grim Death shall tye the marriage-bands,
Which jealousie shan’t divide;
Together shall tye our cold hands,
Whilst here we lye side by side.

20
‘Witness, ye groves, and chrystial streams,
How faithless I late have been,
But do repent with dying leaves
Of that my ungrateful sin;

21
‘And wish a thousand times that I
Had been but to her more kind,
And not have let a virgin dye
Whose equal there’s none can find.

22
‘Now heaps of sorrow press my soul;
Now, now’t is she takes her way;
I come, my love, without controule,
Nor from thee will longer stay.’

23
With that he fetchd a heavy groar
Which rent his tender breast,
And then by her he laid him down,
When as death did give him rest.

24
Whilst mournful birds, with leavy boughs,
To them a kind burial gave,
And warbled out their love-sick vows,
Whilst they both slept in their grave.

* * * * *

The West-Country Damosels Complaint,

or,

The Faithful Lovers Last Farewel.

Being the relation of a young maid who pined herself to death for the love of a young man, who, after he had notice of it, dyed likewise for grief.

Careless young men, by this a warning take
How you kind virgins, when they love, forsake;
Least the same fate oretake you, and you dye
For breach of vows and infidelity.
Be kind, but swear not more then what you mean,
Least comick jests become a trajeck scean.

To the tune of Johnny Armstrong.

* * * * *

=a.=

20^3. leaves _(so in all) seems doubtful, but I can conjecture nothing better_. gleams _is just possible_.

=b.=

2^3. thou shalt unto.

3^4. runs beneath thy.

11^2. times stood.

20^4. that _wanting_.

22^4. will no longer.

293

JOHN OF HAZELGREEN

=A.= Elizabeth Cochrane’s MS., p. 126.

=B.= ‘Jock o Hazelgreen,’ Kinloch MSS, VII, 135; Kinloch’s Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 206.

=C.= ‘John o Hazelgreen,’ Kinloch MSS, I, 319.

=D. a.= ‘John o Hazelgreen,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 253. =b.= ‘Jock of Hazelgreen,’ Chambers, Scottish Ballads, p. 319.

=E. a.= Fragmentary verses obtained by Mr Pringle, Kinloch MSS, I, 321. =b.= Kinloch MSS, VII, 2, one stanza.

=A= is found, with the doubtless accidental variation of three words, in a folio volume at Abbotsford labelled Miscellanies, article 43, having been transcribed by C. K. Sharpe for Sir W. Scott “from a 4to MS., in a female hand, written probably about one hundred years ago, sold at one Inglis’s roup at the West Port, Edinburgh, now in the possession of David Laing” (that is, Elizabeth Cochrane’s MS.). =D b= was compounded from =D a= and =B=, “omitting,” says Chambers, “many of the coarser stanzas of both, and improving a few by collation with a third version which I took down from recitation, and another which has been shown to me in manuscript by Mr Kinloch” (=C=). =D b= is, after all, mainly =D a= with omissions; the improvements from the recited copy (or the variations from Buchan and Kinloch) are not remarkable in amount or quality. =E= is given on Kinloch’s authority. Alexander Campbell, when on a tour on the borders of Scotland to collect Scottish airs, is said to have received the first stanza from Mr Thomas Pringle, who derived it from his mother’s singing. (Chappell, Popular Music, p. 575.) Upon this traditional stanza was built Scott’s ‘Jock of Hazeldean,’ first printed in Campbell’s Albyn’s Anthology, I, 18, 1816.

=A.= A gentleman overhears a damsel making a moan for Sir John of Hazelgreen. After some compliment on his part, and some slight information on hers, he tells her that Hazelgreen is married; then there is nothing for her to do, she says, but to hold her peace and die for him. The gentleman proposes that she shall let Hazelgreen go, marry his eldest son, and be made a gay lady; she is too mean a maid for that, and, anyway, had rather die for the object of her affection. Still she allows the gentleman to take her up behind him on his horse, and to buy clothes for her at Biggar, though all the time dropping tears for Hazelgreen. After the shopping they mount again, and at last they come to the gentleman’s place, when the son runs out to welcome his father. The son is young Hazelgreen, who takes the maid in his arms and kisses off the still-falling tears. The father declares that the two shall be married the next day, and the young man have the family lands.

The other versions have the same story, but the clothes are bought at Edinburgh, and the Hazelgreen estate seems to be in the neighborhood.

In a preface to =C=, Kinloch, following either =D= 5 or some foolish popular gloss, remarks that the lady is presumed to have seen young Hazelgreen only in a dream, which left so deep an impression on her mind as to cause her to fall in love with his image. To improve upon this, =D= 15 makes the young man also to have seen the maid in a dream.

A

Elizabeth Cochrane’s MS., p. 126.

1
Into a sweet May morning,
As the sun clearly shone,
I heard a propper damsell
Making a heavy moan;
Making a heavy moan,
I marvelled what she did mean,
And it was for a gentleman,
Sir John of Hasillgreen.

2
‘What aileth thee now, bony maid,
To mourn so sore into the tide?
O happy were the man,’ he sayes,
‘That had thee to his bride,
To ly down by his side;
Then he were not to mean;’
But still she let the tears down fall
For pleasant Hasilgreen.

3
‘Oh what for a man is Hasillgreen?
Sweet heart, pray tell to me.’
‘He is a propper gentleman,
Dwels in the South Countrie;
With shoulders broad and arms long,
And comely to be seen;
His hairs are like the threeds of gold,
My pleasant Hasilgreen.’

4
‘Now Hasilgreen is married,
Let all this talking be.’
‘If Hasilgreen be married,
This day then woe to me;
For I may sigh and sob no more,
But close my weeping een,
And hold my peace and cry no more,
But dy for Hasilgreen.’

5
‘Will you let Hasilgreen alone,
And go along with me?
I’ll marry you on my eldest son,
Make you a gay lady.’
‘Make me a gay lady?’ she sayes,
‘I am a maid too mean;
I’ll rather stay at home,’ she cries,
‘And dy for Hasilgreen.’

6
He takes this pretty maid him behind
And fast he spurred the horse,
And they’re away to Bigger toun,
Then in to Biggar Cross.
Their lodging was far sought,
And so was it foreseen;
But still she let the tears doun fall
For pleasant Hasillgreen.

7
He’s ta’en this pretty maid by the hand,
And he is doun the toun;
He bought for her a pettycoat,
Yea, and a trailing goun;
A silken kell fitt for her head,
Laid oer with silver sheen;
But still she let the tears doun fall
For pleasant Hasilgreen.

8
He’s taen this bony mey him behind,
And he is to the Place,
Where there was mirth and merryness,
And ladyes fair of face;
And ladyes fair of face,
Right seemly to be seen,
But still she let the tears doun fall
For pleasant Hasilgreen.

9
Young Hasilgreen ran hastilie
To welcome his father dear;
He’s ta’en that pretty maid in his arms,
And kist off her falling tear:
‘O bony mey, now for thy sake
I would be rent and rien;
I would give all my father’s lands
To have thee in Hasilgreen.’

10
‘O hold your tongue now, son,’ he sayes,
‘Let no more talking be;
This maid has come right far from home
This day to visit thee.
This day should been your wedding-day,
It shall be thy bridall-een,
And thou’s get all thy father’s lands,
And dwell in Hasillgreen.’

B

Kinloch’s MSS, VII, 135; from the recitation of Jenny Watson, Lanark, 24 April, 1826.

1
It was on a morning early,
Before day-licht did appear,
I heard a pretty damsel
Making a heavy bier;
Making a heavy bier,
I wonderd what she did mean;
But ay the tears they rappit doun,
Crying, O Jock o Hazelgreen!

2
‘O whare is this Hazelgreen, maid?
That I may him see.’
‘He is a ticht and a proper man,
Lives in the South Cuntree.
His shoulders broad, his arms lang,
O he’s comely to be seen!’--
But ay the tears they drappit doun
For Jock o Hazelgreen.

3
‘Will ye gang wi me, fair maid?
. . . . . . .
And I’ll marry ye on my son,’
. . . . . . .
‘Afore I’d go along wi you,
To be married on your son,
I’d rather choose to stay at hame,
And die for Hazelgreen.’

4
But he has tane her up behind,
And spurred on his horse,
Till ance he cam to Embro toun,
And lichted at the corss.
He bought to her a petticoat,
Besides a handsome goun;
He tied a silver belt about her waist,
Worth thrice three hunder pund.

5
And whan he cam to Hazelyetts,
He lichted doun therein;
Monie war the brave ladies there,
Monie ane to be seen.
She lichted doun amang them aw,
She seemed to be the queen;
But ay the tears they rappit doun
For Jock o Hazelgreen.

6
Young Hazelgreen took her by the hand
And led her out and in:
Said, Bonnie lady, for your sake,
I could be baith rent and rien;
I wad gie aw my lands and rents,
Tho I had kingdoms three,
If I could hae the great pleasure
To enjoy thy fair bodie.

7
‘No more of this,’ his father said,
‘Of your mourning let abee;
I brought the damsel far frae hame,
She’s thrice as wae for thee.
The morn is your bridal-day,
The nicht is your bridal-een,
And I’ll gie you aw my lands and rents,
My pleasing son, Hazelgreen.’

C

Kinloch MSS, I, 319.

1
As I gaed out in a May morning,
Afore that I could see,
And there I heard a pretty fair may
Making sweet melodie.
She was making sic melodie,
I wonderd what she could mean;
But ay she sang and sang about
Sweet John o Hazelgreen.

2
‘O what na man is Hazelgreen?
Fair may, pray tell to me.’
‘He is a stout and a tall young man
As in a’ the South Countrie.
He is a stout and a tall young man,
And comely to be seen;
But still O I maun weep and wail
For John o Hazelgreen.’

3
‘Hold your tongue, fair maid,’ he says,
‘And let your weeping alane;
I’ll marry you to my eldest son,
And you shall be ca’d my dame.’

4
He has tane her on ahint him,
And fast he spurred the steed;
For Edinbro town he there was bound,
Where they soon came wi speed.

7
He’s tane her to the Luckenbooths,
Coft her a braw new gown,
A handsome feather for her hat,
And a pair o silken shoon.

8
He has tane the fair may up again,
And fast awa rode he;
For Hazelgreen now he was bound,
Her lodging there to be.

9
She jumped aff frae ahint him,
As fair as any queen;
‘Come down, come down, Lord John,’ he says,
‘And welcome your lady hame.

10
‘It is the tall and comely youth,
Sweet John o Hazelgreen;
If we canna see it bridal-day,
It shall be bridal-een.’

D

=a.= Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 253. =b.= Chambers, Scottish Ballads, p. 319.

1
As I went forth to take the air
Intill an evening clear,
And there I spied a lady fair,
Making a heavy bier;
Making a heavy bier, I say,
But and a piteous meen,
And aye she sighd, and said, Alas,
For John o Hazelgreen!

2
The sun was sinking in the west,
The stars were shining clear,
When thro the thickets o the wood,
A gentleman did appear.
Says, Who has done you the wrong, fair maid,
And left you here alane?
Or who has kissd your lovely lips,
That ye ca Hazelgreen?

3
‘Hold your tongue, kind sir,’ she said,
‘And do not banter so;
How will ye add affliction
Unto a lover’s woe?
For none’s done me the wrong,’ she said,
‘Nor left me here alane;
Nor none has kissd my lovely lips,
That I ca Hazelgreen.’

4
‘Why weep ye by the tide, lady?
Why weep ye by the tide?
How blythe and happy might he be
Gets you to be his bride!
Gets you to be his bride, fair maid,
And him I’ll no bemean;
But when I take my words again,
Whom call ye Hazelgreen?

5
‘What like a man was Hazelgreen?
Will ye show him to me?’
‘He is a comely, proper youth
I in my sleep did see;
Wi arms tall, and fingers small,
He’s comely to be seen;’
And aye she loot the tears down fall
For John o Hazelgreen.

6
‘If ye’ll forsake young Hazelgreen,
And go along with me,
I’ll wed you to my eldest son,
Make you a lady free.’
‘It’s for to wed your eldest son
I am a maid oer mean;
I’ll rather stay at home,’ she says
‘And die for Hazelgreen.’

7
‘If ye’ll forsake young Hazelgreen,
And go along with me,
I’ll wed you to my second son,
And your weight o gowd I’ll gie.’
‘It’s for to wed your second son
I am a maid oer mean;
I’ll rather stay at home,’ she says,
‘And die for Hazelgreen.’

8
Then he’s taen out a siller comb,
Combd down her yellow hair;
And lookëd in a diamond bright,
To see if she were fair.
‘My girl, ye do all maids surpass
That ever I have seen;
Cheer up your heart, my lovely lass,
And hate young Hazelgreen.’

9
‘Young Hazelgreen he is my love,
And ever mair shall be;
I’ll nae forsake young Hazelgreen
For a’ the gowd ye’ll gie.’
But aye she sighd, and said, Alas!
And made a piteous meen,
And aye she loot the tears down fa
For John o Hazelgreen.

10
He lookëd high, and lighted low,
Set her upon his horse;
And they rode on to Edinburgh,
To Edinburgh’s own cross.
And when she in that city was,
She lookd like ony queen:
‘’Tis a pity such a lovely lass
Shoud love young Hazelgreen.’

11
‘Young Hazelgreen, he is my love,
And ever mair shall be;
I’ll nae forsake young Hazelgreen
For a’ the gowd ye’ll gie.’
And aye she sighd, and said, Alas!
And made a piteous meen,
And aye she loot the tears down fa
For John o Hazelgreen.

12
‘Now hold your tongue, my well-fard maid,
Lat a’ your mourning be,
And a’ endeavours I shall try
To bring that youth to thee,
If ye’ll tell me where your love stays,
His stile and proper name.’
‘He’s laird o Taperbank,’ she says,
‘His stile, Young Hazelgreen.’

13
Then he has coft for that lady
A fine silk riding-gown,
Likewise he coft for that lady
A steed, and set her on;
Wi menji feathers in her hat,
Silk stockings and siller sheen,
And they are on to Taperbank,
Seeking young Hazelgreen.

14
They nimbly rode along the way,
And gently spurrd their horse,
Till they rode on to Hazelgreen,
To Hazelgreen’s own close.
Then forth he came, young Hazelgreen,
To welcome his father free:
‘You’re welcome here, my father dear,
And a’ your companie.’

15
But when he lookd oer his shoulder,
A light laugh then gae he;
Says, If I getna this lady,
It’s for her I must die.
I must confess this is the maid
I ance saw in a dream,
A walking thro a pleasant shade,
As fair’s a cypress queen.

16
‘Now hold your tongue, young Hazelgreen,
Lat a’ your folly be;
If ye be wae for that lady,
She’s thrice as wae for thee.
She’s thrice as wae for thee, my son,
As bitter doth complain;
Well is she worthy o the rigs
That lie on Hazelgreen.’

17
He’s taen her in his arms twa,
Led her thro bower and ha:
‘Cheer up your heart, my dearest dear,
Ye’re flower out-oer them a’.
This night shall be our wedding-een,
The morn we’ll say, Amen;
Ye’se never mair hae cause to mourn,
Ye’re lady o Hazelgreen.’

E

=a.= “Got in the South County by Mr Pringle:” Kinloch’s MSS, I, 321. =b.= Kinloch’s MSS, VII, 2.

1
‘Why weep ye by the tide, ladye?
Why weep ye by the tide?
I’ll wed ye to my youngest son,
And ye sall be his bride.
And ye sall be his bride, ladye,
Sae comely to be seen;’
But aye she loot the tears down fa
For John o Hazelgreen.

2
‘O whaten a man is Hazelgreen?
I pray thee tell to me.’
‘O there’s not a handsomer gentleman
In a’ the South Countrie.
His arms are long, his shoulders broad,
Sae comely to be seen!’
And aye she loot the tears down fa
For John o Hazelgreen.

* * * * *

=A.=

1^5. she meant.

_Sharpe’s transcript reads_:

1^1. In _for_ Into.

5^2. come _for_ go.

8^6. Most _for_ Right.

=B.=

5^2. thereat; _changed to_ therein _in printing_. _The line is run through in pencil._

6^4. raving. _Cf._ =A= 9^6.

_Kinloch made some changes in printing._

=C.=

_Written throughout in stanzas of four verses._

=D. b.=

_Since Chambers in some measure adjusted phraseology with a view to “literary” effect, it is impossible to make out which of the variations in his ballad came from the copy which he took down from recitation. Upon extracting all his variations, they have not turned out to be important. A few, which seem the most likely to have belonged to his recited copy, are subjoined._

1^3. I spied a lady in a wood.

2^4. An auld knicht.

7^{3,5}. youngest _for_ second.

10^{5-8}.
And he has coft her silken claes
Garred her look like a queen:
‘Ye surely now will sick nae mair
For Jock o Hazelgreen.’

13^7. And they have ridden far athort.

_After 15._
For her sake I did vow a vow
I neer should wed but she;
Should this fair lady cruel prove,
I’ll lay me doun and dee.

16^{3,4,5}. sick _for_ wae.

16^{7,8}.
And a’ she wants to heal her woe
Is Jock o Hazelgreen.

17^4. Ye’re lady ower.

=E. b.=

2.
‘What like a man is Haselgreen?
Lady, tell to me.’
‘He’s a handsome, proper youth
As ever my eyes did see.
With shoulders broad and arms long,
Most comely to be seen;’
And still she lout the tears doun fa
For Jock of Haselgreen.

294

DUGALL QUIN

‘Dugall Quin,’ The Old Lady’s MS. Collection, No 27.

In this little ballad, which has barely story enough to be so called, Dugald Quin, a Highlander, who seems to give himself out as a man in very humble circumstances, induces Lizzie Menzies, a young lady who appears to have nine maids at her command, to follow him, regardless of her father’s opposition. She cannot resist his merry winking eyes. After she has cast in her lot with his, he promises her nine mills (to match the nine maids), and to make her lady of Garlogie. The old lady minutes at the end of her copy that “it was the Marquis of Huntly.”

One version of ‘Rob Roy,’ No 225, I, 8, has a stanza like 2.

‘What think ye o my coal-black hair,
But and my twinkling een, lady,
A little bonnet on my head,
And cocket up aboon, lady?’

I suppose the Farie of 6^2, 9^2, to stand for a locality on the way north to Boggie (Strathbogie); I cannot, however, identify the place. ‘Tempeng chiss of farie,’ 6^4, 9^4, 10^4, may be a tempting fairy treasure. ‘Chis’ is Gaelic for _tribute_, but I am at present unable, making whatever allowance for the capricious spelling of the manuscript, to suggest any satisfying explanation of this important phrase.

Sir Walter Scott makes this note: “How the devil came Dugald Gunn [so he chooses to read Quin] to be identified with the Marquis of Huntly? I never saw the song before; it has some spunk in it.” Sharpe’s Ballad Book, ed. 1880, p. 154.

1
Dugall Quin came to the toun,
An he’s ben lang awaa,
An he is one to Lissie’s bed,
Tartan, trues, an a’.

2
‘Hou wad ye leak me, Lisie,’ he says,
‘Gin that I war yer ain,
We raged cot apon my back,
An singel-soled sheen,
A littel we bonnet on my head,
An tua merry wenking ean?’

3
‘Well wad I leak ye, Dugall,’ she says,
‘Gin that ye war my ain,
We ragged coat upon yer back,
An singel-soled sheen,
A littel we bonnet on yer head,
An tua merry wenking eyn.

4
‘Hou wad ye leak me, Dugall,’ she says,
‘Gin I wer yer ain,
We silken sneed upon my head,
An gold fann in my hand,
An madins ning, a’ clead in green,
To be att my comand?’

5
‘Well wad I leak ye, Lisie,’ he says,
‘Gin ye wer my ain,
We silken sneed upon yer head,
An a goud fan in yer hand,
An madins nine, a’ clad in green,
To be att yer command.

6
‘Follou me nou, Lisie,’ he says,
‘Follou me throu Farie,
An reap the boddoms of my pakets,
An ye’ll gett tempeng chiss of farei.’

7
Outspak her father, says,
Lissie, I widna wish ye,
For gin ye gay we this young man
They will say I ha bat lost ye.

8
‘O had yer toung, my father dear,
For a’ that winne brake me;
For I will gaa we this young man,
Since it’s his will to take me.’

9
‘Follou me nou, Lissë,’ he says,
‘An follou me throu Farie,
An reap the boddom of my poket,
An ye’ll gett tempeng chess of farie.’

10
‘Wea matt worth yer well-fared face,
Alas that ever I saa ye!
The first an thing that ever ye gaa to me
Was the tempen chess of farie.’

11
Dugall Quin read doun the toun,
Upon Dumfarling’s horses,
An Lisie Meanes folloued him,
For a’ her father’s forces.

12
‘Follou me nou, Lisie,’ he says,
‘An follou me our Boggie;
I ill make ye lady of ning mills,
An lady of bonny Garlogë.’

13
She has folloued her trou-love
[An folloued him] our Boggie,
An she has marred Dugall Quin,
An lives belou Strathbogy.

* * * * *

2^5. bomnet.

4^5, 12^3. ning: _a frequent spelling of the old lady’s, conceived, perhaps, as_ nign. _We have_ nine _in_ 5^5.

12^3. ill; _MS._ aill.

_Note at the end_: it was the markes of Huntly.

295

THE BROWN GIRL

=A.= ‘The bonny Brown Girl,’ ‘The Brown Girl,’ The Brown Girl’s Garland, British Museum, 11621. c. 3 (10).

=B.= As lately taken down in Devon by Rev. S. Baring-Gould.

A young man who has been attached to a girl sends her word by letter that he cannot fancy her because she is so brown (he has left her for another maid in =B=). She sends a disdainful reply. He writes again that he is dangerously ill (he is love-sick in =B=), and begs her come to him quickly and give him back his faith. She takes her time in going, and when she comes to the sick man’s bedside, cannot stand for laughing. She has, however, brought a white wand with her, which she strokes on his breast, in sign that she gives him back the faith which he had given her. But as to forgetting and forgiving, that she will never do; she will dance upon his grave.

This little ballad recalls ‘Lord Thomas and Fair Annet’ (‘Lord Thomas and Fair Ellinor, with the downfall of the Brown Girl’), ‘Sweet William’s Ghost,’ ‘Clerk Saunders,’ ‘The Unquiet Grave,’ ‘Bonny Barbara Allan,’ and has something of all of them. Compare No 73; No 77, =A= 4, =B= 2, 9, =C= 6, 14, =D= 4, 13, =E= 6, 14; No 84 (for the laughing, =B= 12); No 69, =A= 20-22, =D= 11, 14, =E= 17-20, =G= 23-25; No 78, =B= 2, =E= 2, =F= 2. Still it is not deliberately and mechanically patched together (as are some pieces in Part VIII), and in the point of the proud and unrelenting character of the Brown Girl it is original.

A

The Brown Girl’s Garland, British Museum, 11621. c. 3 (10), n. d., before 1788.

1
‘I am as brown as brown can be,
My eyes as black as a sloe;
I am as brisk as a nightingale,
And as wilde as any doe.

2
‘My love has sent me a love-letter,
Not far from yonder town,
That he could not fancy me,
Because I was so brown.

3
‘I sent him his letter back again,
For his love I valu’d not,
Whether that he could fancy me
Or whether he could not.

4
‘He sent me his letter back again,
That he lay dangerous sick,
That I might then go speedily
To give him up his faith.’

5
Now you shall hear what love she had
Then for this love-sick man;
She was a whole long summer’s day
In a mile a going on.

6
When she came to her love’s bed-side,
Where he lay dangerous sick,
She could not for laughing stand
Upright upon her feet.

7
She had a white wand all in her hand,
And smoothd it all on his breast;
‘In faith and troth come pardon me,
I hope your soul’s at rest.

8
‘I’ll do as much for my true-love
As other maidens may;
I’ll dance and sing on my love’s grave
A whole twelvemonth and a day.’

B

Taken down lately by Rev. S. Baring-Gould from a blacksmith, parish of Thrushleton, Devon.

1
‘I am as brown as brown can be,
And my eyes as black as sloe;
I am as brisk as brisk can be,
And wild as forest doe.

2
‘My love he was so high and proud,
His fortune too so high,
He for another fair pretty maid
Me left and passed me by.

3
‘Me did he send a love-letter,
He sent it from the town,
Saying no more he loved me,
For that I was so brown.

4
‘I sent his letter back again,
Saying his love I valued not,
Whether that he would fancy me,
Whether that he would not.

5
‘When that six months were overpassd,
Were overpassd and gone,
Then did my lover, once so bold,
Lie on his bed and groan.

6
‘When that six months were overpassd,
Were gone and overpassd,
O then my lover, once so bold,
With love was sick at last.

7
‘First sent he for the doctor-man:
‘You, doctor, me must cure;
The pains that now do torture me
I can not long endure.’

8
‘Next did he send from out the town,
O next did send for me;
He sent for me, the brown, brown girl
Who once his wife should be.

9
‘O neer a bit the doctor-man
His sufferings could relieve;
O never an one but the brown, brown girl
Who could his life reprieve.’

10
Now you shall hear what love she had
For this poor love-sick man,
How all one day, a summer’s day,
She walked and never ran.

11
When that she came to his bedside,
Where he lay sick and weak,
O then for laughing she could not stand
Upright upon her feet.

12
‘You flouted me, you scouted me,
And many another one;
Now the reward is come at last,
For all that you have done.’

13
The rings she took from off her hands,
The rings by two and three:
‘O take, O take these golden rings,
By them remember me.’

14
She had a white wand in her hand,
She strake him on the breast:
‘My faith and troth I give back to thee,
So may thy soul have rest.’

15
‘Prithee,’ said he, ‘forget, forget,
Prithee forget, forgive;
O grant me yet a little space,
That I may be well and live.’

16
‘O never will I forget, forgive,
So long as I have breath;
I’ll dance above your green, green grave
Where you do lie beneath.’

* * * * *

=A.=

_Heading._ The Brown Girl; to an excellent tune.

=B.=

_From_ A right merry book of Garlands. Collected by J. Bell, on the Quay, Newcastle upon Tyne. _A slip inserted after the 6th Garland bears these words_: The old garlands in these volumes [11621. c. 3, c. 4] are printed by J. White, who died in 1769, and by T. Saint, who died in 1788.... Letter of J. Bell.

The Brown Girl’s Garland, composed of four extraordinary new songs.

The bonny Brown Girl, etc., etc.

4^4. his Eilk.

296

WALTER LESLY

‘Walter Lesly,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 139.

A late, but life-like and spirited ballad.

Walter Lesly steals a girl, not for her beauty or blood, but for her mother’s dollars, of which he has need. She is tied on to a horse, taken to an ale-house, and put to bed. Lesly, weary with hard riding, falls asleep; the girl gets up and runs over moss, moor, hill and dale, barefoot. Lesly’s men pursue, but the road is full of pools and tires the men out. The girl effects her escape.

1
On the second of October, a Monday at noon,
In came Walter Lesly, to see his proper one;
He set a chair down by her side, and gently sat her by,
Says, Will ye go to Conland, this winter-time to lye?

2
He’s taen a glass into his hand, inviting her to drink,
But little knew she his meaning, or what the rogue did think;
Nor what the rogue did think, to steal the maid away;
‘Will ye go to Conland, this winter-time to lye?’

3
When they had taen a glass or two, and all were making merry,
In came Geordy Lesly, and forth he did her carry;
Then upon high horseback sae hard’s he did her tye,
‘Will ye go to Conland, this winter-time to lye?’

4
Her mother she came to the door, the saut tears on her cheek,
She coudna see her daughter, it was for dust and reek;
It was for dust and reek, the swords they glancd sae high;
‘And will ye go to Conland, this winter-time to lye?’

5
When they came to the ale-house, the people there were busy;
A bridal-bed it was well made, and supper well made ready;
When the supper down was set, baith plum-pudding and pie,
‘And will ye go to Conland, this winter-time to lye?’

6
When they had eaten and well drunken, and a’ man bound for bed,
The laddie and the lassie in ae chamber were laid;
He quickly stript her to the smock, and gently laid her bye,
Says, Will ye go to Conland, this winter-time to lye?

7
But Walter being weary, he fell fast asleep,
And then the lassie thought it fit to start up till her feet;
To start up till her feet, and her petticoats to tye,
‘We’ll go no more to Conland, the winter-time to lye.’

8
Then over moss and over muir sae cleverly she ran,
And over hill and over dale, without stockings or shoon;
The men pursued her full fast, wi mony shout and cry,
Says, Will ye go to Conland, the winter-time to lye.

9
‘Wae to the dubs o Duffus land, that eer they were sae deep;
They’ve trachled a’ our horsemen and gart our captain sleep;
And gart our captain sleep, and the lassie win away,
And she’ll go no more to Conland, the winter-time to lye.’

10
‘I’d rather be in Duffus land, selling at the ale,
Before I was wi Lesly, for a’ his auld meal;
For a’ his auld meal, and sae mony comes to buy;
I’ll go no more to Conland the winter-time to lye.

11
‘I’d rather be in Duffus land, dragging at the ware,
Before I was wi Lesly, for a’ his yellow hair;
For a’ his yellow hair, and sae well’s he can it tye;
I’ll go no more to Conland, this winter-time to lye.’

12
It was not for her beauty, nor yet her gentle bluid,
But for her mither’s dollars, of them he had great need;
Of them he had great need, now he maun do them by,
For she’ll go no more to Conland, this winter-time to lye.

* * * * *

_Printed in stanzas of eight short lines._

297

EARL ROTHES

‘Earl Rothes,’ Kinloch MSS, I, 333.

Lady Ann has an adulterous connection with Earl Rothes, and her youthful brother seeks to sunder it. He offers to pay a tocher for her if she will forsake the earl’s company; to keep her in his castle till she is safely brought to bed, and make her a marquis’s lady; she rejects all his offers with scorn. The boy declares that when he is old enough to wear a sword he will thrust it through Earl Rothes for using his sister so badly.

1
‘O Earl Rothes, an thou wert mine,
And I were to be thy ladie,
I wad drink at the beer, and tipple at the wine,
And be my bottle with any.’

2
‘Hold thy tongue, sister Ann,’ he says,
‘Thy words they are too many;
What wad ye do wi sae noble a lord,
When he has so noble a ladie?

3
‘O I’ll pay you your tocher, Lady Ann,
Both in gear and money,
If ye’ll forsake Earl Rothes’s companie,
And mind that he has a ladie.’

4
‘I do not value your gold,’ she says,
‘Your gear it’s no sae readie;
I’ll neer forsake Earl Rothes’s companie,
And I don’t gie a fig for his ladie.’

5
‘I’ll keep ye i the castle, Lady Ann,
O servants ye shall hae monie;
I’ll keep ye till ye’re safely brocht to bed,
And I’ll mak you a marquis’s ladie.’

6
‘I do not value your castle,’ she says,
‘Your servants are no sae readie;
Earl Rothes will keep me till I’m brocht to bed,
And he’ll mak me a marquis’s ladie.’

7
‘Woe be to thee, Earl Rothes,’ he says,
‘And the mark o the judge be upon thee,
For the using o this poor thing sae,
For the using my sister so badly.

8
‘When I’m come to the years of a man,
And able a sword to carry,
I’ll thrust it thro Earl Rothes’ bodie
For the using my sister sae basely.

9
‘Fare thee well, Lady Ann,’ he says,
‘No longer will I tarry;
You and I will never meet again,
Till we meet at the bonny town o Torry.’

298

YOUNG PEGGY

‘Young Peggy,’ Kinloch’s Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 153.

Peggy has been seen in the garden with Jamie late in the night, for which her mother calls her to account. She does not deny the fact; she takes the blame on herself; the thing will happen again. But going to her bower, where Jamie is attending her, she tells him they must meet no more. He makes a tryst with her in the greenwood at midnight, she keeps it and goes off with her lover. Her father pursues them, but they are married before he gets to the top of the hill.

1
‘O whare hae ye been, Peggy?
O whare hae ye been?’
‘I the garden amang the gilly-flowrs,
Atween twal hours and een.’

2
‘Ye’ve na been there your leen, Peggy,
Ye’ve na been there your leen;
Your father saw you in Jamie’s arms,
Atween twal hours and een.’

3
‘Tho my father saw me in Jamie’s arms,
He’ll see me there again;
For I will sleep in Jamie’s arms
When his grave’s growin green.’

4
‘Your Jamie is a rogue, Peggy,
Your Jamie is a loun,
For trysting out our ae dochter,
And her sae very young.’

5
‘Lay no the wyte on Jamie, mither,
The blame a’ lies on me;
For I will sleep in Jamie’s arms
When your een winna see.’

6
Now she has to her ain bouer gane;
He was waiting there him leen:
‘I’m blythe to see ye, Jamie, here,
For we maunna meet again.’

7
She’s tane the wine-glass in her hand,
Pourd out the wine sae clear;
Says, Here’s your health and mine, Jamie,
And we maun meet na mair.

8
She has tane him in her arms twa,
And gien him kisses five;
Says, Here’s your health and mine, Jamie,
I wish weel mote ye thrive.

9
‘Your father has a bonnie cock,
Divides the nicht and day,
And at the middle watch o the nicht
In greenwud ye’ll meet me.’

10
Whan bells war rung, and mass was sung,
And a’ men boun for bed,
She’s kilted up her green claithing,
And met Jamie in the wud.

11
Whan bells war rung, and mass was sung,
About the hour o twa,
It’s up bespak her auld father,
Says, Peggy is awa!

12
‘Ga saddle to me the black, the black,
Ga saddle to me the grey;’
But ere they wan to the tap o the hill
The wedding was a’ bye.

299

TROOPER AND MAID

=A.= ‘The Trooper and Fair Maid,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 230.

=B.= ‘The Trooper,’ Motherwell’s MS., p. 27.

=C.= Jamieson’s Scottish Ballads, II, 158.

A trooper comes to the house of his mistress in the evening and is kindly received. They pass the night together and are wakened by the trumpet. He must leave her; she follows him some way, he begging her to turn back. She asks him repeatedly when they are to meet again and marry. He answers, when cockle shells grow siller bells, when fishes fly and seas gang dry, etc.: see I, 168, 437.

There are several other ballads of a trooper and a maid (Peggy). In ‘The Bonnie Lass o Fyvie,’ Christie, I, 276, Murison MS., p. 50, Kinloch MSS, VII, 339, Buchan MSS, II, 270, ‘Irish Dragoons,’ Motherwell’s MSS, p. 428, a captain falls in love with a Peggy and dies thereof; but in another copy, ‘Pretty Peggy,’ Gibb MS., No 13, p. 53, all is made to end well. A dragoon very constant and liberal to Peggy, and she very fond to him, are happily married in ‘The Dragoon and Peggy,’ Maidment, Scotish. Ballads and Songs, 1859, p. 98, from a Glasgow copy of the date 1800. The first half of this ballad is found under the title of ‘The Laird of Kellary’ in Kinloch MSS, I, 359. In an English broadside which is perhaps of the first half of the seventeenth century, a married Peggy leaves her husband to follow a soldier over sea, but returns and is forgiven: ‘The Soldier and Peggy,’ Roxburghe collection, I, 370 (also Pepys, Euing, Douce), Chappell, The Roxburghe Ballads, II, 475. ‘Peggie is over the sie with the souldier’ is the title of a tune (No 95) in the Skene MSS, which date from the first quarter of the seventeenth century. A correspondent of C. K. Sharpe sent him one stanza of a Scottish ballad upon this theme:

Peggie’s gane oer the seas, a’ dressed in red,
An Peggie’s come back again, beggin her bread.
The landladie looked wi the tail o her ee:
‘O foul fa ye, Peggie, for leaving o me.’