Chapter XVI: Part III: , p. 24, Part IV, p. xxxi, taken down from James Olver, (3)

There is also a ballad of a valiant trooper and a pretty Peggy who, at first inconstant, turns out a loving wife, in Pepys, IV, 40, No 37.

=A= is translated by Gerhard, p. 189.

A

1
One evening as a maid did walk,
The moon was shining clearly,
She heard a trooper at the gates,
She thought it was her dearie.
She’s taen his horse then by the head,
And led him to the stable,
And gien to him baith corn and hay,
To eat what he was able.
Bonny lass, gin I come near you,
Bonny lass, gin I come near you,
I’ll gar a’ your ribbons reel,
Bonny lass, or eer I lea you.

2
She’s taen the trooper by the hand,
And led him to the table,
And furnishd him wi bread and cheese,
To eat what he was able.
She’s taen the wine-glass in her hand,
Poured out the wine sae clearly;
‘Here is your health an mine,’ she cried,
‘And ye’re welcome hame, my deary!

3
‘A glass o wine for gentlemen,
And bonny lads for lasses,
And bread and cheese for cavaliers,
And corn and hay for asses.’
Then she went but and made his bed,
She made it like a lady,
And she coost aff her mankie gown,
Says, Laddie, are you ready?

4
Then he coost aff his big watch-coat,
But and his silken beaver,
A pair o pistols frae his side,
And he lay down beside her.
‘Bonny lassie, I am wi you now,
Bonny lassie I am wi you,
But I’ll gar a’ your ribbons reel,
Bonny lassie, ere I lea you.’

5
The trumpet sounds thro Birldale,
Says, Men and horse, make ready;
The drums do beat at Staneman hill,
‘Lads, leave your mam and daddie.’
The fifes did play at Cromley banks,
‘Lads, leave the lewes o Fyvie;’
And then the trooper he got up,
Says, Lassie, I must lea you.

6
‘Bonny lassie, I maun lea you now,
Bonny lassie, I maun lea you;
But if ever I come this road again,
I will come in and see you.’

7
She’s taen her gown out-ower her arms,
And followed him to Stirling,
And aye the trooper he did say,
O turn ye back, my darling.
‘O when will we twa meet again?
Or when will you me marry?’
‘When rashin rinds grow gay gowd rings,
I winna langer tarry.’

8
‘O when will we twa meet again?
Or when will you me marry?’
‘When heather-knaps grow siller taps,
I winna langer tarry.’
‘O when will we twa meet again?
Or when will you me marry?’
‘When heather-cows grow owsen-bows,
I winna langer tarry.’

9
‘O when will we twa meet again?
Or when will you me marry?’
‘When cockle-shells grow siller bells,
I winna langer tarry.’
‘O when will we twa meet again?
Or when will you me marry?’
‘When apple-trees grow in the seas,
I winna langer tarry.’

10
‘O when will we twa meet again?
Or when will you me marry?’
‘When fishes fly, and seas gang dry,
I winna langer tarry.’
‘O when will we twa meet again?
Or when will you me marry?’
‘When frost and snaw shall warm us a’,
I winna langer tarry.’

11
‘Yestreen I was my daddie’s dow,
But an my mamy’s dawtie;
This night I gang wi bairn to you,
Wae’s me that I eer saw thee!’
‘Yestreen ye were your daddie’s dow,
But an your mammie’s dawtie;
But gin ye gang wi bairn to me,
Ye may rue that eer ye saw me.

12
‘O turn back, my bonny lass,
And turn back, my dearie;
For the Highland hills are ill to climb,
And the bluidy swords woud fear ye.’

B

Motherwell’s MS., p. 27; from the recitation of Widow Nicol.

1
There cam a trooper frae the West,
And of riding he was weary;
He rappit at and clappit at,
In calling for his dearie.
By chance the maid was in the close,
The moon was shining clearly,
She opened the gates and let him in,
Says, Ye’re welcome hame, my dearie.

2
She took the horse by the bridle-reins
And led him to the stable;
She gave him corn and hay to eat,
As much as he was able.
She up the stair and made the bed,
She made it fit for a lady,
Then she coost aff her petticoat,
Said, Trooper, are ye ready?

3
. . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . .
‘There’s bread and cheese for musqueteers,
And corn and hay for hor[s]es,
Sack and sugar for auld wives,
And lads for bonnie lasses.’

4
He coost aff his gude buff coat,
His boots, likewise his beaver,
He drew his rapier frae his side,
And streekit him down beside her.
‘Bonnie lass, I trew I’m near the[e] now,
Bonnie lass, I trew I’m near thee,
And I’ll gar a’ thy ribbons reel,
Bonnie lassie, or I lea thee.’

5
They had but spoken little a while
Till of speaking they were weary;
They sleeped together in each other’s arms
Till the sun was shining clearly.
The very first sound the trumpet gave
Was, Troopers, are ye ready?
Away you must to London town,
Or else for Londonderry.

6
She took the bottle in her hand,
The glass into the other,
She filled it up with blood-red wine,
Until it ran quite over.
She drank a health to her love on the stair,
Saying, When shall we two marry?
Or when shall we two meet again,
On purpose for to marry?

7
‘O when shall we two meet again?
Or when shall we two marry?’
‘When cockle-shells grow siller bells;
No longer must I tarry.’

C

Jamieson, Popular Ballads, II, 158, as often heard by him in Morayshire.

1
There cam a trooper frae the west,
And he’s ridden till his deary;
‘It’s open and lat me in,’ he says,
For I am wet and weary.’

* * * * * * *

2
‘O whan sall we be married, love?
O whan sall we be married?’
‘Whan heather-cows turn owsen-bows,
It’s then that we’ll be married.’

3
‘O whan sall we be married, love?
O when sall we be married?’
‘When cockle-shells turn siller bells,
It’s then that we’ll be married.’

4
. . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . .
‘Whan the sun and moon dance on the green,
It’s then that we’ll be married.’

* * * * *

=A.=

5^6. Lewas.

5^8. lea you now.

=B.=

4^3. threw? _Motherwell._

4^7. gard.

=C.=

_The verses are given incidentally in a preface to another ballad. Between 1 and 2_: The kind fair one puts his horse into the stable and takes himself to her bower, where she gives him ‘the good white bread and blood-red wine,’ and a part of her bed. In the morning, when he proposes to depart, she naturally enough asks [_as in st. 2_].

300

BLANCHEFLOUR AND JELLYFLORICE

‘Blancheflour and Jellyflorice,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 125; Motherwell’s MS., p. 588.

A maid who has been some years in a lady’s service aspires to something higher; she seeks and obtains a place with a queen, ‘to sew the seams of silk.’ The queen warns her to keep herself from the young prince, but the pair become familiar, and the queen has her mounted on a wild horse without a bridle, expecting to dispose of her summarily in this way. But the prince takes her from the horse and declares that he will marry her within the month.

Buchan suspects that some “poetaster” has remodelled the story of the romance of Florice and Blancheflour, “modernizing it to suit the climate of his time,” that is, perhaps, turning a princess into a sempstress. The only thing in the romance that is even remotely like what we find in the ballad is that Florice saves Blancheflour from the death which his father had contrived for her in order to part the lovers, and this passage does not occur in the English versions of the romance.

There is a Flemish ballad, so to call it, composed from the romance: Coussemaker, p. 177, No 51, Baecker, Chansons historiques de la Flandre, p. 121; Oude Liedekens in Bladeren, L. van Paemel, Gend, No 17.

1
There was a maid, richly arrayd,
In robes were rare to see,
For seven years and something mair
She servd a gay ladie.

2
But being fond o a higher place,
In service she thought lang;
She took her mantle her about,
Her coffer by the band.

3
And as she walkd by the shore-side,
As blythe’s a bird on tree,
Yet still she gaz’d her round about,
To see what she could see.

4
At last she spied a little castle,
That stood near by the sea;
She spied it far and drew it near,
To that castle went she.

5
And when she came to that castle
She tirled at the pin,
And ready stood a little wee boy
To lat this fair maid in.

6
‘O who’s the owner of this place,
O porter-boy, tell me;’
‘This place belongs unto a queen
O birth and high degree.’

7
She put her hand in her pocket,
And gae him shillings three:
‘O porter, bear my message well
Unto the queen frae me.’

8
The porter’s gane before the queen,
Fell low down on his knee:
‘Win up, win up, my porter-boy,
What makes this courtesie?’

9
‘I hae been porter at your yetts,
My dame, these years full three,
But see a ladie at your yetts
The fairest my eyes did see.’

10
‘Cast up my yetts baith wide and braid,
Lat her come in to me,
And I’ll know by her courtesie
Lord’s daughter if she be.’

11
When she came in before the queen,
Fell low down on her knee:
‘Service frae you, my dame the queen,
I pray you grant it me.’

12
‘If that service ye now do want,
What station will ye be?
Can ye card wool, or spin, fair maid,
Or milk the cows to me?’

13
‘No, I can neither card nor spin,
Nor cows I canno milk,
But sit into a lady’s bower
And sew the seams o silk.’

14
‘What is your name, ye comely dame?
Pray tell this unto me:’
‘O Blancheflour, that is my name,
Born in a strange countrie.’

15
‘O keep ye well frae Jellyflorice--
My ain dear son is he--
When other ladies get a gift,
O that ye shall get three.’

16
It wasna tald into the bower
Till it went thro the ha,
That Jellyflorice and Blancheflour
Were grown ower great witha.

17
When the queen’s maids their visits paid,
Upo the gude Yule-day,
When other ladies got horse to ride,
She boud take foot and gae.

18
The queen she calld her stable-groom,
To come to her right seen;
Says, Ye’ll take out yon wild waith steed
And bring him to the green.

19
‘Ye’ll take the bridle frae his head,
The lighters frae his een;
Ere she ride three times roun the cross,
Her weel-days will be dune.’

20
Jellyflorice his true-love spy’d
As she rade roun the cross,
And thrice he kissd her lovely lips,
And took her frae her horse.

21
‘Gang to your bower, my lily-flower,
For a’ my mother’s spite;
There’s nae other amang her maids,
In whom I take delight.

22
‘Ye are my jewel, and only ane,
Nane’s do you injury;
For ere this-day-month come and gang
My wedded wife ye’se be.’

301

THE QUEEN OF SCOTLAND

‘The Queen of Scotland,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 46; Motherwell’s MS., p. 577.

A queen in the king’s absence invites young Troy Muir to her bower and bed; he declines, and the queen resolves to do him an ill turn. She tells him that if he will lift a stone in the garden he will find in a pit under the stone gold enough to buy him a dukedom. The next morning Troy Muir lifts the stone, and a long-starved serpent winds itself round his middle. A maid comes by and allays the serpent’s rage by cutting off her pap for him. Troy Muir is immediately released and the wound in the maid’s breast heals in an hour. Troy Muir marries the maid the same day; she bears him a son, and by heaven’s grace recovers her pap thereupon.

The insipid ballad may have been rhymed from some insipid tale. Motherwell conjectured that Troy Muir stands for Triamour, but the story here has no sort of resemblance to the romance.

1
‘O Troy Muir, my lily-flower,
An asking I’ll ask thee;
Will ye come to my bigley bower
And drink the wine wi me?’

2
‘My dame, this is too much honour
You have conferrd on me;
I’m sure it’s mair than I’ve deservd
Frae sic a one as thee.’

3
‘In Reekie’s towers I hae a bower,
And pictures round it set;
There is a bed that is well made,
Where you and I shall sleep.’

4
‘O God forbid,’ this youth then said,
‘That ever I drie sic blame
As ever to touch the queen’s bodie,
Altho the king’s frae hame.’

5
When that he had these words spoken,
She secretly did say,
Some evil I shall work this man,
Before that it be day.

6
Whan a’ her maids were gane to bed,
And knights were gane frae hame,
She calld upon young Troy Muir,
To put fire in her room.

7
‘An asking, asking, Troy Muir,
An asking ye’ll grant me;’
‘O, if it be a lawful thing,
My dame it’s granted be.’

8
‘There is a stane in yon garden,
Nae are lifts it for me;
But if that ye woud lift the same,
A brave man I’ll ca thee.

9
‘Under yon stane there is a pit,
Most dreary for to see,
And in it there’s as much red gowd
As buy a dukedom to thee.’

10
‘O if I had ae sleep in bed,
And saw the morning sun,
As soon’s I rise and see the skies,
Your will it shall be done.’

11
When birds did sing, and sun did rise,
And sweetly sang the lark,
Troy Muir to the garden went,
To work this dreary wark.

12
He’s taen the stane then by a ring,
And lifted manfullie;
A serpent that lang wanted meat
Round Troy Muir’s middle did flee.

13
‘How shall I get rid o this foul beast?
It’s by it I must dee;
I never thought the queen, my friend,
Woud work this mischief to me.’

14
But by there came a weelfaird may,
As Troy Muir did tauk,
The serpent’s furious rage to lay,
Cut aff her fair white pap.

15
As soon as she the same had done,
Young Troy Muir was set free,
And in ane hour the wound was heald,
That nae mair pain had she.

16
Says Troy Muir, My lily-flower,
Ye hae releasëd me;
But before I see another day,
My wedded wife ye’se be.

17
He married her on that same day,
Brought her to his ain hame;
A lovely son to him she bare,
When full nine months were gane.

18
As heaven was pleasd, in a short time,
To ease her first sad pain,
Sae was it pleasd, when she’d a son,
To hae a pap again.

302

YOUNG BEARWELL

‘Young Bearwell,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 75; Motherwell’s MS., p. 456, derived from Buchan; Motherwell’s Minstrelsy, p. 345.

This is one of half a dozen pieces sent Buchan by Mr Nicol of Strichen, “who wrote them from memory as he had learned them in his earlier years from old people.” It is also one of not a few flimsy and unjointed ballads found in Buchan’s volumes, the like of which is hardly to be found elsewhere, that require a respectable voucher, such as Mr Nicol undoubtedly was, for the other five pieces communicated by him were all above suspicion, and have a considerable value. It will not, however, help the ballad much that it was not palmed off on Buchan in jest or otherwise, or even if it was learned from an old person by Mr Nicol in his youth. The intrinsic character of the ballad remains, and old people have sometimes burdened their memory with worthless things.

Young Bearwell and a mayor’s daughter are lovers. Seeing him coming along one day, the lady tells him that there are such reports in circulation about him that he will have to sail the sea beyond Yorkisfauld, which may be beyond Ultima Thule for aught we know. Bearwell’s life is in danger where he is, and the lady has had the forethought to build him a ship, in which she sends him off. By the process of sailing both east and west and then meeting wind from the north, he is blown to a land where the king and court, who pass their time mostly in playing ball, put a harp into the hand of every stranger and invite him to stay and play. Bearwell stays, and perhaps plays, twelve months. During this time the lady is so beset with suitors that she feels constrained to apply to a young skipper named Heyvalin to fetch her true-love back. To do this he must sail first east, then west, and then have a blast of north wind to blow him to the land. All this comes to pass; the king and court are playing ball, but immediately put a harp into Heyvalin’s hand and urge him to stay and play. Skipper though he be, he falls to playing, and finds Bearwell the first man in all the company.

“From circumstances,” which do not occur to me, Motherwell would almost be inclined to trace this piece to a Danish source, “or it may be an episode of some forgotten metrical romance.” It may also, and more probably, be the effort of some amateur ballad-monger in northern Scotland whose imagination was unequal to the finishing of the inane story which he had undertaken.

1
When two lovers love each other well,
Great sin it were them to twinn;
And this I speak from Young Bearwell;
He loved a lady young,
The Mayor’s daughter of Birktoun-brae,
That lovely, leesome thing.

2
One day when she was looking out,
When washing her milk-white hands,
That she beheld him Young Bearwell,
As he came in the sands.

3
Says, Wae’s me for you, Young Bearwell,
Such tales of you are tauld;
They’ll cause you sail the salt sea so far
As beyond Yorkisfauld.

4
. . . . . . .
. . . . . .
‘O shall I bide in good greenwood,
Or stay in bower with thee?’

5
‘The leaves are thick in good greenwood,
Would hold you from the rain;
And if you stay in bower with me
You will be taken and slain.

6
‘But I caused build a ship for you
Upon Saint Innocent’s day;
I’ll bid Saint Innocent be your guide,
And Our Lady, that meikle may.
You are a lady’s first true-love,
God carry you well away!’

7
Then he sailed east, and he sailed west,
By many a comely strand;
At length a puff of northern wind
Did blow him to the land.

8
When he did see the king and court,
Were playing at the ba;
Gave him a harp into his hand,
Says, Stay, Bearwell, and play.

9
He had not been in the king’s court
A twelvemonth and a day,
Till there came lairds and lords anew
To court that lady gay.

10
They wooed her with brooch and ring,
They nothing could keep back;
The very charters of their lands
Into her hands they pat.

11
She’s done her down to Heyvalin,
With the light of the moon;
Says, Will ye do this deed for me,
And will ye do it soon?

12
‘Will ye go seek him Young Bearwell,
On seas wherever he be?
And if I live and bruik my life
Rewarded ye shall be.’

13
‘Alas, I am too young a skipper,
So far to sail the faem;
But if I live and bruik my life
I’ll strive to bring him hame.’

14
So he has saild east and then saild west,
By many a comely strand,
Till there came a blast of northern wind
And blew him to the land.

15
And there the king and all his court
Were playing at the ba;
Gave him a harp into his hand,
Says, Stay, Heyvalin, and play.

16
He has tane up the harp in hand,
And unto play went he,
And Young Bearwell was the first man
In all that companie.

* * * * * * *

303

THE HOLY NUNNERY

‘The Holy Nunnery,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 193.

Willie’s father and mother have vowed that he shall never marry Annie. Annie resolves that she will be a nun, asks her father’s consent and obtains it readily. At the nunnery-gate there is a maiden porter ‘wi gowd upon her hat,’ who would not have been quite out of place at the wicket of the garden of the Rose. Porter though she be, she seems to exercise the authority of a mother-superior. Annie asks admission, ‘there to live or die,’ and is allowed to come in on terms: never to kiss a young man’s mouth, and to work hard; conditions not surprising, but there is another which is unusual, never to go to church (or is it Kirk that is meant?) Annie is seven years in the nunnery, all which time Willie lies languishing. His mother asks him if there is nothing that would help him; there is nothing, he says, but his love Annie. They dress him up like a lady, in silk and gold, he goes to the nunnery-gate, and the maiden porter ‘wi gowd upon her hat’ makes no difficulty about letting him in. Annie knows him, and says, Come up, my sister dear. Willie essays to kiss her lips, but she whispers, This I dare not avow. The rest is wanting, and again we may doubt whether the balladist had not exhausted himself, whether a story so begun could be brought to any conclusion.

1
Fair Annie had a costly bower,
Well built wi lime and stane,
And Willie came to visit her,
Wi the light o the meen.

2
When he came to Annie’s bower-door,
He tirled at the pin:
‘Ye sleep ye, wake ye, Fair Annie,
Ye’ll open, lat me come in.’

3
‘O never a fit,’ says Fair Annie,
‘Till I your errand ken;’
‘My father’s vowd a vow, Annie,
I’ll tell you when I’m in.

4
‘My father’s vowed a rash vow,
I darena marry thee;
My mither’s vowed anither vow,
My bride ye’se never be.’

5
‘If ye had tauld me that, Willie,
When we began to woo,
There was naithing in this warld wide
Shoud drawn my love to you.

6
‘A nun, a nun,’ said Fair Annie,
‘A nun will I be then;’
‘A priest, a priest,’ said Sweet Willie,
‘A priest will I be syne.’

7
She is gane to her father,
For mither she had nane;
And she is on to her father,
To see if she’d be a nun.

8
‘An asking, asking, father dear,
An asking ye’ll grant me;
That’s to get to the holy nunnery,
And there to live or die.’

9
‘Your asking’s nae sae great, daughter,
But granted it shall be;
For ye’se won to the holy nunnery,
There to live or die.’

10
Then they gaed on, and farther on,
Till they came to the yate;
And there they spied a maiden porter,
Wi gowd upon her hat.

11
‘An asking, asking, maiden porter,
An asking ye’ll grant me;
If I’ll won to the holy nunnery,
There to live or die.’

12
‘Your asking’s nae sae great, lady,
But granted it shall be;
For ye’se won to the holy nunnery,
There to live or die.

13
‘But ye maun vow a vow, lady,
Before that ye seek in;
Never to kiss a young man’s mouth
That goes upon the grun.

14
‘And ye must vow anither vow,
Severely ye must work;
The well-warst vow that ye’re to vow,
Is never to gang to kirk.’

15
‘I will vow a vow,’ she said,
‘Before that I seek in;
I neer shall kiss a young man’s mouth
That goes upon the grun.

16
‘And I will vow anither vow,
Severely I will work;
The well-warst vow that I’m to vow
Is never to gang to kirk.’

17
For seven years now Fair Annie,
In the holy nunnery lay she,
And seven years Sweet Willie lay,
In languish like to die.

18
‘Is there nae duke nor lord’s daughter,
My son, can comfort thee,
And save thee frae the gates o death?
Is there nae remedie?’

19
‘There is nae duke nor lord’s daughter,
Mother, can comfort me,
Except it be my love, Annie,
In the holy nunnery lies she.’

20
They’ve dressd Sweet Willie up in silk,
Wi gowd his gown did shine,
And nane coud ken by his pale face
But he was a lady fine.

21
So they gaed on, and farther on,
Till they came to the yate,
And there they spied a maiden porter,
Wi gowd upon her hat.

22
‘An asking, an asking, maiden porter,
An asking ye’ll grant me;
For to win in to the holy nunnery,
Fair Annie for to see.’

23
‘Your asking’s nae sae great, lady,
But granted it shall be;
Ye’se won into the holy nunnery,
Fair Annie for to see.

24
‘Be she duke’s or lord’s daughter,
It’s lang sin she came here:’
Fair Annie kent her true love’s face;
Says, Come up, my sister dear.

25
Sweet Willie went to kiss her lips,
As he had wont to do;
But she softly whispered him,
I darena this avow.

304

YOUNG RONALD

Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 282; Motherwell’s MS., p. 601, derived from Buchan.

Young Ronald, a noble squire, but still school-boy (11, 29), lays his love on the daughter of the king of Linne, a locality which, as it occurs several times in ballads, we are glad to learn is not far from Windsor. In the course of an interview with the lady in her garden, she tells him that though she entirely feels the honor he has done her, she must be subject to her father’s will. Ronald’s father and mother are greatly concerned for their son, seeing that the lady has already rejected many suitors. He pays his love a second visit, and protests that for her sake he would fight long and hard. Be not too hasty, she answers; you must buckle with a more dangerous foe than you wot of, ere you win me by war. She proceeds to explain that her father will have to go to war the next day with a giant who has been very troublesome, and then to make him various offers with the view of enlisting him in the affair; among which are two standard rings, one of which will stanch the blood of any of his men who may be hurt, the other prevent the drawing of his own blood.

Young Ronald reports to his father the encouragement which he has received from his love, the impending contest with the giant, and the gifts which she has made him; and the father, on his part, promises him a company of a hundred well-armed men. Supported by these, and invigorated by a third meeting in the garden, Ronald rides proudly to the field. The giant, who is handicapped with three heads on his neck, and three more on his breast, challenges the king of Linne to combat, and the king offers his daughter and a third of his lands to any champion who will undertake the giant. Ronald is ready, and, according to the rule in such cases, disdains the offer of any reward but the daughter. The thought of her gives him a lion’s courage, and such potency to his arm that he cuts off all the six heads of the giant at one sweep.

If any lover of ballads should feel his understanding insulted by the presentation of such a piece as this, I can have no quarrel with him. There is certainly much in it that is exasperating,--the greeters in the school, the lifting of the hat, and, most of all, perhaps, the mint in meadows. These are, however, the writer’s own property; the nicking with nay and the giant are borrowed from romances. In this and not a very few other cases, I have suppressed disgust, and admitted an actually worthless and a manifestly--at least in part--spurious ballad, because of a remote possibility that it might contain relics, or be a debased representative, of something genuine and better. Such was the advice of my lamented friend, Grundtvig, in more instances than those in which I have brought myself to defer to his judgment.

1
It fell upon the Lammas time,
When flowers were fresh and green,
And craig and cleugh was covered ower
With cloathing that was clean.

2
’Twas at that time a noble squire,
Sprung from an ancient line,
Laid his love on a lady fair,
The king’s daughter o Linne.

3
When cocks did craw, and day did daw,
And mint in meadows sprang,
Young Ronald and his little wee boy
They rode the way alang.

4
So they rode on, and farther on,
To yonder pleasant green,
And there he spied that lady fair,
In her garden alane.

5
These two together lang they stood,
And love’s tale there they taul;
The glancing o her fair color
Did Ronald’s own impale.

6
He lifted’s hat, and thus he spake;
O pity have on me!
For I could pledge what is my right,
All for the sake of thee.

7
‘Ye’re young amo your mirth, kind sir,
And fair o your dull hours;
There’s nae a lady in a’ London
But might be your paramour.

8
‘But I’m too young to wed, kind sir,
You must not take it ill;
Whate’er my father bids me do,
I maun be at his will.’

9
He kissd her then and took his leave,
His heart was all in pride,
And he is on to Windsor gone,
And his boy by his side.

10
And when he unto Windsor came,
And lighted on the green,
There he spied his mother dear,
Was walking there alane.

11
‘Where have ye been, my son, Ronald,
From gude school-house, this day?’
‘I hae been at Linne, mother,
Seeing yon bonny may.’

12
‘O wae’s me for you now, Ronald,
For she will not you hae;
For mony a knight and bauld baron
She’s nickd them a’ wi nae.’

13
Young Ronald’s done him to his bower,
And he took bed and lay;
Nae woman could come in his sight,
For the thoughts o this well-fard may.

14
Then in it came his father dear,
Well belted in a brand;
The tears ran frae his twa gray eyes,
All for his lovely son.

15
Then Ronald calld his stable-groom
To come right speedilie;
Says, Ye’ll gang to yon stable, boy,
And saddle a steed for me.

16
‘His saddle o the guid red gowd,
His bits be o the steel,
His bridle o a glittering hue;
See that ye saddle him weel.

17
‘For I’ve heard greeters at your school-house,
Near thirty in a day;
But for to hear an auld man greet,
It passes bairns’ play.’

18
When cocks did craw, and day did daw,
And mint in meadows sprang,
Young Ronald and his little wee boy
The way they rode alang.

19
So they rode on, and further on,
To yonder pleasant green,
And there they saw that lady fair,
In her garden alane.

20
And twenty times before he ceasd
He kissd her lips sae clear,
And said, Dear lady, for your sake,
I’ll fight fell lang and sair.

21
‘Full haste, nae speed, for me, kind sir,’
Replied the lady clear;
‘Far better bucklings ye maun bide
Or ye gain my love by weir.

22
‘King Honour is my father’s name,
The morn to war maun fare,
And that’s to fight a proud giant,
That’s wrought him muckle care.

23
‘Along wi him he is to take
Baith noble knights and squires;
I woud wish you as well-dressd a knight
As ony will be there.

24
‘And I’ll gie you a thousand crowns,
To part amang your men;
A robe upon your ain body,
Weel sewd wi my ain hand.

25
‘Likewise a ring, a royal thing,
The virtue it is gude;
If ony o your men be hurt,
It soon will stem their blude.

26
‘Another ring, a royal thing,
Whose virtue is well known;
As lang’s this ring your body’s on,
Your bluid shall neer be drawn.’

27
He kissd her then, and took his leave,
His heart was all in pride,
And he is on to Windsor gone,
And his boy by his side.

28
And when he unto Windsor came,
And lighted on the green,
There he saw his auld father,
Was walking him alane.

29
‘Where hae ye been, my son, Ronald,
From gude school-house the day?’
‘O I hae been at Linne, father,
Seeking yon bonny may.’

30
‘O wae’s me for you now, Ronald,
For she will not you hae;
Mony a knight and bauld baron
She’s nickd them a’ wi nay.’

31
‘O had your tongue, my father dear,
Lat a’ your folly be;
The last words that I wi her spake,
Her love was granted me.

32
‘King Honour is her father’s name,
The morn to war maun fare,
And that’s to fight a proud giant,
That’s wrought him muckle care.

33
‘Alang wi him he means to take
Baith knights and noble squires;
And she wishes me as well drest a knight
As ony will be there.

34
‘And she’s gaen me a thousand crowns,
To part amang my men;
A robe upon my ain body,
Weel sewd wi her ain hand.

35
‘Likewise a ring, a royal thing,
The virtue it is gude;
If ony o my men be hurt,
It soon will stem their blude.

36
‘Another ring, a royal thing,
Whose virtue is unknown;
As lang’s this ring my body’s on,
My blude will neer be drawn.’

37
‘If that be true, my son, Ronald,
That ye hae tauld to me,
I’ll gie to you an hundred men,
To bear you companie.

38
‘Besides as muckle gude harness
As carry them on the lee;
It is a company gude enough
For sic a squire as thee.’

39
When cocks did craw, and day did daw,
And mint in meadows spread,
Young Ronald and his merry young men
Were ready for to ride.

40
So they rode on, and farther on,
To yonder pleasant green,
And there they spied that lady fair,
In her garden, sair mourning.

41
These twa together lang they stood,
And love’s tale there they taul,
Till her father and his merry young men
Had ridden seven mile.

42
He kissd her then, and took his leave,
His heart was all in pride,
And then he sprang alang the road
As sparks do frae the gleed.

43
Then to his great steed he set spur;
He being swift o feet,
They soon arrived on the plain,
Where all the rest did meet.

44
Then flew the foul thief frae the west,
His make was never seen;
He had three heads upon ae hause,
Three heads on ae breast-bane.

45
He bauldly stept up to the king,
Seiz’d ’s steed in his right hand;
Says, Here I am, a valiant man,
Fight me now if ye can.

46
‘Where is the man in a’ my train
Will take this deed in hand?
And he shall hae my daughter dear,
And third part o my land.’

47
‘O here am I,’ said young Ronald,
‘Will take the deed in hand;
And ye’ll gie me your daughter dear,
I’ll seek nane o your land.’

48
‘I woudna for my life, Ronald,
This day I left you here;
Remember ye yon lady gay
For you shed mony a tear.’

49
Fan he did mind on that lady
That he left him behind,
He hadna mair fear to fight
Nor a lion frae a chain.

50
Then he cut aff the giant’s heads
Wi ae sweep o his hand,
Gaed hame and married that lady,
And heird her father’s land.

* * * * *

5^3. collar.

5^4. one _for_ own.

14^2. and a.

26^3. ring’s: _cf._ 36^3.

33^1. I mean: _cf._ 23^1.

36^2. Which: _cf._ 26^2.

305

THE OUTLAW MURRAY

=A.=

=a.= ‘The Sang of the Outlaw Murray,’ Herd’s MSS, II, fol. 76; ‘The Outlaw Murray,’ I, 255. =b.= ‘The Sang of the Outlaw Murray,’ Scott’s Minstrelsy, second edition, 1803, I, 1. =c.= ‘The Song of the Outlaw Murray,’ Aytoun’s Ballads of Scotland, 1859, II, 131, “from an old manuscript in the Philiphaugh charter-chest.” =d.= ‘The Sang of the Outlaw Murray,’ the copy now extant among the Philiphaugh papers.

=B.= ‘An old song called Outlaw Murray,’ Glenriddell MSS, XI, 61, 1791.

=C.= ‘Outlaw Murray, an antient historical ballad,’ fragments, “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 31, Abbotsford, in the handwriting of William Laidlaw.

First printed in Scott’s Minstrelsy, 1802, I, 1.

=A a=, =b=, =c= (disregarding Scott’s interpolations in =b=), do not differ more than transcripts of one original may be expected to do, remembering that copyists are apt to indulge in trivial verbal improvements.[103] =a= was sent David Herd, with a letter dated January 12, 1795, by Andrew Plummer, Sheriff-Depute of Selkirk, as received by carrier from a lady, who neglected to impart how she came by the copy. In this instance, contrary to what I believe to be the general rule, the second volume of Herd’s MSS seems to have the original text.[104] =a= was printed, but not with absolute fidelity, by Maidment, Scotish Ballads and Songs, 1868, II, 66. For =b=, “the copy principally resorted to,” says Scott, “is one, apparently of considerable antiquity, which was found among the papers of the late Mrs Cockburn of Edinburgh.” Scott made occasional use of Herd’s MS. and of Glenriddell’s, inserted some stanzas which he had received from Sheriff Plummer, and in the second edition (otherwise slightly altered) two stanzas from the recitation of Mungo Park. Mrs Cockburn’s MS. evidently agreed very nearly with the copy in Herd, so far as the latter goes. I much regret that exertions made to secure the Cockburn MS. did not result successfully. =c.= “From a note appended to the ballad, explanatory of its circumstances, in which reference is made to Lord Philiphaugh (a judge of Session) as being then alive,” says Aytoun, “the manuscript must have been written between the years 1689 and 1702.”[105] The original manuscript, unfortunately and inexplicably, is no longer in the Philiphaugh archives, and has not come to light after search. The text, if earlier transcribed, shows no internal evidence of superior age, and exhibits several inferior readings,--two that are highly objectionable.[106] =d=, the copy actually preserved among the Philiphaugh papers, is evinced by a watermark to be not older than 1848. It shows variations from Aytoun’s printed text which cannot be other than wilful alterations.

=B=, which is both defective, corrupted, and chargeable with flat repetition, and =C=, a few fragmentary verses, are all that have been retrieved from tradition, although Scott says that the ballad “has been for ages a popular song in Selkirkshire.”

A manuscript copy was understood to be in possession of the late Mr George Wilson, S. S. C., Edinburgh, but, as in the case of the original of the Philiphaugh MS. and in that of Mrs Cockburn’s copy, inquiry and search were fruitless.

The king of Scotland is informed that there is an Outlaw in Ettrick Forest who makes no account of him; the king vows that he will be king of Ettrick Forest, or the Outlaw shall be king of Scotland. Earl Hamilton advises that an envoy be sent to the Outlaw to ascertain whether he is willing to do homage to the king and hold the forest of him; if the Outlaw should refuse, then they will proceed to extremities with him. The king sends Boyd, Earl of Arran, to announce his terms: the Outlaw is to do homage; otherwise he and his lands will be subjugated, his castle levelled, his wife made a widow, and his men be hanged. The messenger demands of the Outlaw, in the king’s name, of whom he holds his lands; the Outlaw replies that the lands are his own, won by himself from the Southron, and that he recognizes no king in Christendom. The messenger intimates that it will nevertheless be necessary for the Outlaw to do homage to the king of Scotland, under the penalties before mentioned. Many of the king’s nobles shall lie cold first, he replies. Boyd reports to his master that the Outlaw claims to hold the forest by his own right, which he will maintain against all kings in Christendom; the king prepares to enforce his sovereignty with five thousand men.

The Outlaw vows that the king shall pay dear for his coming, and sends for succor to three of his kinsmen, all of whom promise help. As the king approaches the forest, Hamilton ventures to give further advice: that the Outlaw should be summoned to come with four of his best men to meet the king and five earls; fire, sword, and forfeiture to follow upon refusal. The Outlaw bethinks himself of his children, and complies. He and his company fall on their knees and implore the king’s mercy; his mercy shall be the gallows, says the king. The Outlaw protests again that he won his lands from the enemy, and as he won them so will he keep them, against all kings in Christendom; but having indulged in this vaunt asks mercy again, and offers to give up the keys of his castle if the king will constitute him and his successors sheriffs of the forest. The king, on his part, is equally ready for a compromise. The Outlaw, on surrendering the keys of his castle, shall be made sheriff of Ettrick Forest, and shall never be forfeited as long as he continues loyal, and his men shall have pardon if they amend their lives. After all the strong language on both sides, the Outlaw has only to name his lands (but gives a very imperfect list), and the king (waiving complete particulars) renders him whatever he is pleased to claim, and makes him sheriff of Ettrick Forest while upwards grows the tree.

So far all the copies of =A= concur, as to the story, except that =c= 22, 33, by an absurd corruption, makes the Outlaw to have won his lands, not from the Soudron, the Soudronie, but from Soldan Turk, the Soldanie; in which respect =A c= is followed by =B= 26, =C= 3, 5. Between 52 and 53, =b= introduces this passage:

Then spak the kene laird of Buckscleuth,
A stalworthye man and sterne was he:
‘For a king to gang an outlaw till
Is beneath his state and his dignitie.

‘The man that wons yon foreste intill,
He lives by reif and felonie;
Wher_e_fore, brayd on, my sovereign liege,
Wi fire and sword we’ll follow thee,
Or, gif your courtrie lords fa back,
Our borderers sall the onset gie.’

Then out and spak the nobil king,
And round him cast a wilie ee:
‘Now haud thy tongue, Sir Walter Scott,
Nor speik of reif nor felonie,
For had everye honeste man his awin kye,
A right puir clan thy name wad be.’[107]

=B= represents that the king, after appointing a meeting with the Outlaw ‘in number not above two or three,’ comes with a company of three hundred, which violation of the mutual understanding naturally leads the Outlaw to expect treachery. The king, however, not only proceeds in good faith, but, without any stipulations, at once makes the Outlaw laird of the Forest.

From the note, otherwise of no value, which accompanies the Philiphaugh MS., it is clear that the ballad was known before 1700; how much earlier it is to be put we can neither ascertain nor safely conjecture, but we may say that there is nothing in the language of the piece as it stands which obliges us to assign it a much higher antiquity.[108]

As to James Murray, laird of Traquair, whose lands the king had gifted lang syne, =A= 45^3, 48^1, Sheriff Plummer remarks in Herd’s MS.: “Willielmus de Moravia had forfeited the lands of ‘trakware’ ante annum 1464. As of that date I have a charter of these lands, proceeding upon his forfeiture, granted Willielmo Douglas de Cluny.” Thomas Boyd was created Earl of Arran after his marriage with the eldest sister of James III, 1467. The Earl of Hamilton is mentioned =A= 7^1, 50^1. Sheriff Plummer observes that there was an earl of that surname till 1503.

Scott, in his preface in the Border Minstrelsy, after professing himself unable to ascertain the foundation of the tale, goes on to state the following historical possibilities:

“This ballad ... commemorates a transaction supposed to have taken place betwixt a Scottish monarch and an ancestor of the ancient family of Murray of Philiphaugh in Selkirkshire.... It is certain that during the civil wars betwixt Bruce and Baliol the family of Philiphaugh existed and was powerful, for their ancestor, Archibald de Moravia, subscribes the oath of fealty to Edward I, A. D. 1296. It is therefore not unlikely that, residing in a wild and frontier country, they may have, at one period or other during these commotions, refused allegiance to the feeble monarch of the day, and thus extorted from him some grant of territory or jurisdiction. It is also certain that, by a charter from James IV, dated November 30, 1509, John Murray of Philiphaugh is vested with the dignity of heritable Sheriff of Ettrick Forest, an office held by his descendants till the final abolition of such jurisdictions by 28th George II, cap. 23. But it seems difficult to believe that the circumstances mentioned in the ballad could occur under the reign of so vigorous a monarch as James IV. It is true that the _dramatis personæ_ introduced seem to refer to the end of the fifteenth or beginning of the sixteenth century; but from this it can only be argued that the author himself lived soon after that period. It may therefore be supposed (unless further evidence can be produced tending to invalidate the conclusion) that the bard, willing to pay his court to the family, has connected his grant of the sheriffship by James IV with some former dispute betwixt the Murrays of Philiphaugh and their sovereign, occurring either while they were engaged upon the side of Baliol, or in the subsequent reigns of David II and Robert II and III, when the English possessed great part of the Scottish frontier, and the rest was in so lawless a state as hardly to acknowledge any superior.

“At the same time, this reasoning is not absolutely conclusive. James IV had particular reasons for desiring that Ettrick Forest, which actually formed part of the jointure-lands of Margaret, his queen, should be kept in a state of tranquillity: Rymer, vol. xiii, p. 66. In order to accomplish this object, it was natural for him, according to the policy of his predecessors, to invest one great family with the power of keeping order among the rest. It is even probable that the Philiphaugh family may have had claims upon part of the lordship of Ettrick Forest, which lay intermingled with their own extensive possessions, and in the course of arranging, not, indeed, the feudal superiority, but the property of these lands, a dispute may have arisen of sufficient importance to be the groundwork of a ballad.

“It is farther probable that the Murrays, like other Border clans, were in a very lawless state, and held their lands merely by occupancy, without any feudal right. Indeed, the lands of the various proprietors in Ettrick Forest (being a royal demesne) were held by the possessors, not in property, but as the kindly tenants, or rentallers, of the crown.... This state of possession naturally led to a confusion of rights and claims. The kings of Scotland were often reduced to the humiliating necessity of compromising such matters with their rebellious subjects, and James himself even entered into a sort of league with Johnnie Faa, the king of the gypsies. Perhaps, therefore, the tradition handed down in this way may have had more foundation than it would at present be proper positively to assert.”

In the way of comment upon these surmises of Scott, which proceed mainly upon what we do not know, it may be alleged that we have a fairly good record of the relations of Selkirkshire to the Scottish crown during the fourteenth century, when this district was so often changing hands between the English and the Scotch, and that there is no indication of any Murray having been concerned in winning it from the Southron, as is pretended in the ballad, either then or at any time, so that this part of the story may be set down as pure invention.[109] Hardly less fictitious seems to be the dispute between the Scottish king and a Murray, in relation to the tenure. The Murrays first became connected with Selkirkshire in 1461. John de Moravia then acquired the lands of Philiphaugh, and was afterwards appointed Custos of Newark Castle, and came into possession of Hangingshaw and Lewinshope. All of these are attributed to the Outlaw in the ballad. This John Murray was a contemporary of Boyd, Earl of Arran, and of the forfeited Murray of Traquair, but, with all this, nobody has pitched upon him for the Outlaw; and it would not have been a happy idea, for he was on perfectly good terms, and even in great favor, with the court under James III. His grandson, John Murray, was in equal or greater favor with James IV, and was made hereditary Sheriff of Selkirk in 1509, and for this last reason has been proposed for the Outlaw, though “nothing could be more improbable than that this orderly, ‘circumspect,’ and law-enforcing officer of the crown should ever take up an attitude of rebellious defiance so diametrically opposed to all we really know of his character and conduct.”[110]