Chapter XV: Book II: 35. Hynd Horn (2)

She dress’d hersel’ i’ the red scarlèt,
Her marys i’ dainty green,
And they pat girdles about their middles
Wou’d buy an earldome.

XXII

And they gid down by yon sea-side,
And down by yon sea-stran’;
Sae bonny did the Hollan’s boats
Come rowin’ to their han’.

XXIII

She set her milke-white foot on board,
Cried, Hail ye, Domine!
And the Billy Blind was the steerer o’t,
To row her o’er the sea.

XXIV

Whan she came to young Bekie’s gate,
She heard the music play;
Sae well she kent frae a’ she heard,
It was his wedding day.

XXV

She’s pitten her han’ in her pocket,
Gi’en the porter guineas three;
‘Hae, tak ye that, ye proud portèr,
Bid the bride-groom speake to me.’

XXVI

O whan that he cam up the stair,
He fell low down on his knee:
He hail’d the king, and he hail’d the queen,
And he hail’d him, Young Bekie.

XXVII

‘O I’ve been porter at your gates
This thirty years an’ three;
But there’s three ladies at them now,
Their like I never did see.

XXVIII

‘There’s ane o’ them dress’d in red scarlèt,
An’ twa in dainty green,
An’ they hae girdles about their middles
Wou’d buy an earldome.’

XXIX

Then out it spake the bierly[326] bride,
Was a’ goud to the chin;
‘Gin she be braw without,’ she says,
‘We’s be as braw within.’

XXX

Then up it starts him, Young Bekie,
And the tears was in his e’e:
‘I’ll lay my life it’s Burd Isbel,
Come o’er the sea to me.’

XXXI

O quickly ran he down the stair,
And whan he saw ’t was shee,
He kindly took her in his arms,
And kiss’d her tenderly.

XXXII

‘O hae ye forgotten, Young Bekie,
The vow ye made to me,
Whan I took you out o’ the prison strong,
Whan ye was condemn’d to die?

XXXIII

‘I gae you a steed was good in need,
An’ a saddle o’ royal bone,
A leash o’ hounds o’ ae litter,
An’ Hector callèd one.’

XXXIV

It was well kent what the lady said,
That it wasnae a lee,
For at ilka word the lady spake,
The hound fell at her knee.

XXXV

‘Tak hame, tak hame your daughter dear,
A blessing gae her wi’!
For I maun marry my Burd Isbel,
That’s come o’er the sea to me.’

XXXVI

‘Is this the custom o’ your house,
Or the fashion o’ your lan’,
To marry a maid in a May mornin’,
An’ to send her back at even?’

FOOTNOTES:

[318] borrow = ransom.

[319] but = out.

[320] ben = in.

[321] rottons = rats.

[322] royal bone = ivory.

[323] Or than = Or else.

[324] Billy Blind = a friendly household fairy. See p. 80.

[325] marys = maids.

[326] bierly = stately.

_45. Young Beichan_

(_Another version of the foregoing_)

I

In London was Young Beichan born,
He long’d strange countries for to see;
But he was ta’en by a savage Moor
Who handled him right cruellie.

II

For he view’d the fashions of that land,
Their way of worship viewèd he;
But to Mahound or Termagant
Would Beichan never bend a knee.

III

So thro’ every shoulder they’ve bored a bore,
And thro’ every bore they’ve putten a tree,
And they have made him trail the wine
And spices on his fair bodie.

IV

They’ve casten him in a dungeon deep,
Where he could neither hear nor see;
And fed him on nought but bread and water
Till he for hunger’s like to die.

V

This Moor he had but ae daughter,
Her name was callèd Susie Pye,
And every day as she took the air
She heard Young Beichan sadly crie:

VI

‘My hounds they all run masterless,
My hawks they flie from tree to tree,
My youngest brother will heir my lands;
Fair England again I’ll never see!

VII

‘O were I free as I hae been,
And my ship swimming once more on sea,
I’d turn my face to fair England
And sail no more to a strange countrie!’

VIII

Young Beichan’s song for thinking on
All night she never closed her e’e;
She’s stown[327] the keys from her father’s head
Wi’ mickle gold and white monie.

IX

And she has open’d the prison doors:
I wot she open’d twa or three
Ere she could come Young Beichan at,
He was lock’d up so curiouslie.

X

‘O hae ye any lands or rents,
Or cities in your own countrie,
Cou’d free you out of prison strong
And cou’d maintain a lady free?’--

XI

‘O London city is my own,
And other cities twa or three;
I’ll give them all to the lady fair
That out of prison will set me free.’

XII

O she has bribed her father’s men
Wi’ mickle gold and white monie,
She’s gotten the keys of the prison strong,
And she has set Young Beichan free.

XIII

She’s fed him upon the good spice-cake,
The Spanish wine and the malvoisie;
She’s broken a ring from off her finger
And to Beichan half of it gave she.

XIV

‘Go set your foot on good shipboard,
And haste you back to your own countrie,
But before that seven years has an end,
Come back again, love, and marry me.’

XV

It was long or seven years had an end
She long’d full sore her love to see;
So she’s set her foot on good ship-board
And turn’d her back on her own countrie.

XVI

She’s sailèd east, she’s sailèd west,
She’s sailèd all across the sea,
And when she came to fair England
The bells were ringing merrilie.

XVII

‘O whose are a’ yon flock o’ sheep?
And whose are a’ yon flock o’ kye[328]?
And whose are a’ yon pretty castles,
That I so often do pass by?’

XVIII

‘O they are a’ Lord Beichan’s sheep,
And they are a’ Lord Beichan’s kye,
And they are a’ Lord Beichan’s castles
That you so often do pass by.

XIX

‘O there’s a wedding in yonder ha’,
Has lasted thirty days and three;
Lord Beichan will not bed wi’ his bride
For love of one that’s ’yond the sea.’

XX

When she came to Young Beichan’s gate
She tirlèd[329] softly at the pin;
So ready was the proud portèr
To open and let this lady in.

XXI

‘Is this Young Beichan’s gates?’ she says,
‘Or is that noble lord within?’--
‘He’s up the stairs wi’ his bonny bride,
For this is the day o’ his weddin’.’--

XXII

‘O has he taken a bonny bride,
And has he clean forgotten me?’
And sighing said that ladye gay,
‘I wish I were in my own countrie!’

XXIII

She’s putten her hand in her pockèt
And gi’en the porter guineas three;
Says, ‘Take ye that, ye proud portèr,
And bid the bridegroom speak with me.’

XXIV

And she has ta’en her gay gold ring,
That with her love she brake so free;
Says, ‘Gie him that, ye proud portèr,
And bid the bridegroom speak with me.’

XXV

O when the porter came up the stair,
He’s kneelèd low upon his knee:
‘Won[330] up, won up, ye proud portèr,
And what makes a’ this courtesie?’--

XXVI

‘O I’ve been porter at your gates
I’m sure this thirty years and three,
But there is a lady stands thereat
The fairest I did ever see.’

XXVII

It’s out then spake the bride’s mother,
--Aye, and an angry woman was she--
‘Ye might have excepted our bonny bride,
And twa or three of our companie.’

XXVIII

‘My dame, your daughter’s fair enough,
And aye the fairer mote she be!
But the fairest time that ever she was,
She’ll no compare wi’ this ladye.

XXIX

‘For on every finger she has a ring,
And on the mid-finger she has three,
And as mickle gold she has on her brow
’Would buy an earldome o’ land to me.

XXX

‘And this golden ring that’s broken in twa,
She sends the half o’ this golden ring,
And bids you speak with a lady fair,
That out o’ prison did you bring.’

XXXI

Then up and started Young Beichan
And sware so loud by Our Ladye,
‘It can be none but Susie Pye,
That has come over the sea to me!

XXXII

O quickly ran he down the stair,
Of fifteen steps he made but three;
He’s ta’en his bonny love in his arms
And kiss’d and kiss’d her tenderlie.

XXXIII

‘O have ye ta’en another bride,
And have ye quite forsaken me?
And have ye clean forgotten her
That gave you life and libertie?’

XXXIV

She’s lookèd over her left shoulder
To hide the tears stood in her e’e;
‘Now fare-thee-well, Young Beichan,’ she says--
‘I’ll strive to think no more on thee.’

XXXV

‘O never, never, Susie Pye,
For surely this can never be,
That ever I shall wed but her
That’s done and dreed[331] so much for me!’

XXXVI

Then up bespake the bride’s mother--
She never was heard to speak so free:
‘Ye’ll not forsake my only daughter,
Though Susie Pye has cross’d the sea.’

XXXVII

‘Take home, take home your daughter, madam,
She’s never a bit the worse for me;
For saving a kiss of her bonny lips
Of your daughter’s body I am free.’

XXXVIII

He’s ta’en her by the milk-white hand
And led her to yon fountain-stone[332];
He’s changed her name from Susie Pye
And call’d her his bonny love Lady Joan.

FOOTNOTES:

[327] stown = stolen.

[328] kye = kine, cattle.

[329] tirlèd = rattled.

[330] won = win, get.

[331] dreed = suffered.

[332] fountain-stone = font.

_46. Childe Waters_

I

Childe Waters in his stable stood
Stroking his milk-white steed:
To him came a fair young lady
As ever wore woman’s weed.

II

Says, ‘Christ you save, Childe Waters!’
Says, ‘Christ you save and see!
My girdle of gold, which was too long,
Is now too short for me.

III

‘And all is with one child of yours
I feel stir at my side:
My gown of green, it is too strait;
Before it was too wide.’--

IV

‘If the child be mine, Burd Ellen,’ he said,
‘Be mine as you do swear,
Take you Cheshire and Lancashire both,
And make that child your heir.’

V

She says, ‘I would rather have one kiss,
Childe Waters, of thy mouth
Than I would have Cheshire and Lancashire both,
That lies by north and south.’--

VI

‘To-morrow, Ellen, I must ride
Far into the north countrye.’--
‘Then I will run low by your side:
Your foot-page let me be!’--

VII

‘If you will be my foot-page, Ellen,
As you do tell it me,
Then you must cut your gown of green
An inch above your knee.’

VIII

Childe Waters leapt on his milk-white steed,
And fast away did ride:
Burd Ellen has kilted her gay clothing,
And ran low by his side.

IX

All this long day Childe Waters rode,
She barefoot by his side;
Yet was he never so courteous a knight
As to say, ‘Burd Ellen, ride.’

X

He has ridden, and she has run,
And barefoot through the broom;
Yet was he never so courteous a knight
As to say, ‘Put on your shoon.’

XI

‘Ride softly,’ she said, ‘Childe Waters!
O why do you ride so fast?
The child which is no man’s but yours
My body it will brast.’

XII

He has ridden on high horseback,
And she’s run low beside,
Until they came to a wan water--
I think men call it Clyde.

XIII

Says, ‘See’st yon water, Ellen,
That flows from bank to brim?’--
‘I trust to God, Childe Waters
You will never see me swim.’

XIV

The firsten step Burd Ellen stept,
The water came to her knee;
‘Ochon, alas!’ said Burd Ellen,
‘This water’s o’er deep for me!’

XV

The neisten step Burd Ellen stept,
The water came to her middle;
And sighing said Burd Ellen,
‘I’ve wetted my golden girdle!’

XVI

The thirden step Burd Ellen slept,
The water came to her pap;
And the bairn that was in her two sides
For cold began to quake.

XVII

‘Lie still, lie still, my own dear babe!
Ye work your mother woe;
Your father that rides on high horseback
Cares little for us two.’

XVIII

About the midst of Clyde-water
There was a yeard-fast[333] stone:
He lightly turn’d his horse about
And took Burd Ellen on.

XIX

When she over the water won,
She then came to his knee:
Says, ‘How far is it to your lodgin’
Where we this night may be?’--

XX

‘Seest thou not yon castle, Ellen?
Of red gold shines the gate:
There is twenty-and-four fair ladies
And one my worldly mate.

XXI

‘Seest thou not yon castle, Ellen?
Of red gold shines the tower:
There is twenty-and-four fair ladies,
And one my paramour.

XXII

‘Seest thou not yon castle, Ellen,
That shines so fair to see?
There’s a lady in it, Ellen,
Will sunder you and me.’--

XXIII

‘I do see the castle, Childe Waters:
Of red gold shines the gate.
God give you good then of yourself,
And of your worldly mate!

XXIV

‘I wish no ill to your lady;
She ne’er wish’d none to me;
But I wish the maid most of your love
Dries[334] this and more for thee.

XXV

‘I wish no ill to your lady;
She ne’er comes in my thought;
But I wish the maid most of your love
That dearest has you bought.’--

XXVI

‘But my hounds shall eat of the bread of wheat,
And you of the bread of bran;
And you shall curse the heavy hour
That ever your love began.

XXVII

‘But my horse shall drink of the good red wine,
And you of the water wan;
And you will sigh and say “Alas,
That ever I loved a man!”’--

XXVIII

‘O, I will drink of the wan water,
And eat of the bread of bran;
And aye will I bless the happy hour
That ever I loved a man.’

XXIX

O four-and-twenty gay ladies
Were playing at the ball,
But Ellen, the fairest lady,
Must bring his steed to stall.

XXX

And four-and-twenty gay ladies
Were playing at the chess,
But Ellen, the fairest lady,
Must bring his horse to grass.

XXXI

When bells were rung, and mass was sung,
And a’ men bound to meat,
Burd Ellen was at the bye-table
Among the foot-men set.

XXXII

‘O eat and drink, my bonny boy,
The white bread and the beer.’--
‘The never a bit can I eat or drink,
My heart’s so full of fear.’--

XXXIII

‘O eat and drink, my bonny boy,
The white bread and the wine.’--
‘O I cannot eat nor drink, master,
My heart’s so full of pine[335].’

XXXIV

But out and spake Childe Waters’ mother,
And a skilly[336] dame was she:
‘Where met ye with that little foot-page
That looks so sad on thee?

XXXV

‘Sometimes his cheek is rosy red,
And sometimes deadly wan;
He’s liker a woman big with bairn
Than a young lord’s serving-man.’

XXXVI

And then bespake Childe Waters’ sister,
And these were the words said she:
‘You have the prettiest foot-page, brother,
Let him go into chamber with me.’--

XXXVII

‘It is more meet for a little foot-page,
That has run through moss and mire,
To take his supper upon his knee,
And sit by the kitchen fire,
Than to go into chamber with any lady
That wears so rich attire.

XXXVIII

‘Rise up, rise up, my bonny boy;
Give my horse corn and hay.’--
‘O that I will, my master dear,
As quickly as I may.’

XXXIX

She’s ta’en the hay under her arm,
The corn into her hand,
And she’s gone to the great stable
As fast as e’er she can.

XL

‘O room ye round, my bonny brown steeds!
O room ye near the wall!
For this pain that strikes me through my sides
Full soon will gar me fall.’

XLI

She’s lean’d her back against the wall,
Strong travail seized her on;
And even among the great horse’ feet
Burd Ellen brought forth her son.

XLII

And that beheard Childe Waters’ mother,
Sat in her bower alone.
‘Rise up, rise up, Childe Waters,’ she said,
‘Seek neither hose nor shoon!’

XLIII

She said, ‘Rise up, thou Childe Waters,
I think thou’rt a cursèd man;
For yonder’s a ghost in thy stable
That grievously doth groan,
Or else some woman labours of child,
She is so woe-begone.’

XLIV

But up then rose Childe Waters,
Stay’d neither for hose nor shoon,
And he’s doen him to the stable-door
Wi’ the clear light of the moon.

XLV

And when he came to the stable-door,
Full still there he did stand,
That he might hear Burd Ellen,
How she made her monand[337].

XLVI

She said, ‘Lullabyè, my own dear child!
Lùllabye, dear child dear!
I would thy father were a king,
Thy mother laid on a bier!’--

XLVII

‘O open the door, Burd Ellen!
O open and let me in!
I want to see if my steed be fed,
Or my greyhounds fit to rin.’--

XLVIII

‘How can I open, how shall I open,
How can I open to thee,
When lying amang your great steeds’ feet,
Your young son on my knee?’

XLIX

He strack the door hard wi’ his foot,
And push’d it wi’ his knee;
And iron locks and iron bars
Into the floor flung he.
‘Be not afraid, Burd Ellen,’ he says,
‘There’s none comes in but me.’

L

‘An asking, an asking, Childe Waters,
An asking I beg of thee:
May the meanest maid about your house
Bring a glass o’ water to me!’

LI

Up he has ta’en his bonny young son,
Gar’d wash him wi’ the milk;
And up he has taken his fair lady,
Gar’d row[338] her in the silk.

LII

‘Peace now,’ he said, ‘Burd Ellen,
And be of good cheer, I pray;
Your bridal and your churching both
Shall be upon one day.’

FOOTNOTES:

[333] yeard-fast = fast in earth.

[334] Dries = endures.

[335] pine = pain.

[336] skilly = wise, knowledgeable.

[337] monand = moaning.

[338] row = wrap.

_47. Childe Maurice_

I

Childe Maurice hunted the Silver Wood,
He whistled and he sang:
‘I think I see the woman yonder
That I have lovèd lang.’

II

He callèd to his little man John,
‘You don’t see what I see;
For yonder I see the very first woman
That ever lovèd me.’

III

He says, ‘Come hither, my little man John,
That I pay meat and fee,
For thou shalt go to John Steward’s wife
And greet her well from me;

IV

‘And as it falls as many times
As knots be knit in a kell[339],
Or merchantmen go to leeve[340] Londòn
To buy ware or to sell;

V

‘And as it falls as many times
As any heart can think,
Or school-masters are in any school
Writing with pen and ink.

VI

‘Here is a glove, a glove,’ he says,
‘Lined wi’ the silver-gris[341];
Bid her to come to Silver Wood
To speak with Childe Maurice.

VII

‘And here is a ring, a ring,’ he says,
‘A ring of the precious stone:
He prays her come to Silver Wood
And ask the leave of none.’--

VIII

‘Well do I love your errand, master,
But better I love my life.
Would ye have me go to John Steward’s castle,
To tryst away his wife?’--

IX

‘Do not I give you meat?’ he says,
‘Do not I give you fee?
How daur you stop my errand
When that I bid you flee?’

X

This little man John one while he yode[342],
Another while he ran;
Until he came to John Steward’s castle
I wis he never blan[343].

XI

He ask’d no porter’s leave, but ran
Up hall and bower free,
And when he came to John Steward’s wife,
Says, ‘God you save and see!

XII

‘I come, I am come from Childe Maurice--
A message unto thee!
And Childe Maurice he greets you well,
And ever so well from me,

XIII

‘And as it falls as oftentimes
As knots be knit in a kell,
Or merchantmen go to leeve Londòn
To buy ware or to sell;

XIV

‘And as oftentimes he greets you well
As any heart can think,
Or schoolmasters are in any school
Writing with pen and ink.

XV

‘Here is a glove, a glove,’ he says,
‘Lined wi’ the silver-gris;
Ye’re bidden to come to Silver Wood
To speak with Childe Maurice.

XVI

‘And here is a ring, a ring of gold,
Set wi’ the precious stone:
He prays you to come to Silver Wood
And ask the leave of none.’--

XVII

‘Now peace, now peace, thou little man John,
For Christ’s sake I pray thee!
For gif my lord heard one o’ thy words
Thou must be hangèd hie!’

XVIII

O aye she stampèd with her foot
And winkèd with her e’e;
But for all that she could say or do
Forbidden he would not be.

XIX

‘It’s surely to my bower-woman,
It cannot be to me!’--
‘Nay, I brought it to John Steward’s lady,
And I trow that thou art she.’

XX

Out then spake the wily nurse,
Wi’ the bairn just on her knee:
‘If this be come from Childe Maurice
It’s dear welcome to me.’--

XXI

‘Thou liest, thou liest, thou wily nurse,
So loud as I hear thee lie!
I brought it to John Steward’s lady,
And I trow thou be not she.’

XXII

Then up and rose him John Steward,
And an angry man was he:
‘Did I think there was a lord in the world
My lady loved but me!’

XXIII

He struck the table wi’ his foot,
And kepp’d[344] it with his knee,
Till silver cup and ezar[345] dish
In flinders they did flee.

XXIV

He call’d unto his horse-keeper,
‘Make ready you my steed!’
So did he to his chamberlain,
‘Go fetch my lady’s weed[346]!’

XXV

O he dress’d himself in the holland smock,
[The mantle and the snood],
And he cast a lease[347] upon his back,
And he rode to Silver Wood.

XXVI

And when he came to Silver Wood,
No body saw he there
But Childe Maurice upon a block
Combing his yellow hair.

XXVII

Childe Maurice sat in Silver Wood,
He whistled and he sang:
‘I think I see the woman come
That I have lovèd lang.’

XXVIII

But then stood up him Childe Maurice
His mother to help from horse:
‘O alas, alas!’ says Childe Maurice,
‘My mother was ne’er so gross!’

XXIX

‘No wonder, no wonder,’ John Steward he said,
‘My lady loved thee well,
For the fairest part of my body
Is blacker than thy heel.’

XXX

John Steward had a little brown sword
That hung low down by his knee;
He has cut the head off Childe Maurice
And the body put on a tree.

XXXI

And he prick’d the head on his sword’s point,
Went singing there beside,
And he rode till he came to the castle
Whereas his lady ly’ed[348].

XXXII

And when he came to his lady--
Look’d o’er the castle-wall--
He threw the head into her lap,
Saying ‘Lady, tak’[349] the ball!’

XXXIII

Says, ‘Dost thou know Childe Maurice’ head,
If that thou dost it see?
And lap it soft, and kiss it oft,
For thou loved’st him better than me.’

XXXIV

But when she look’d on Childe Maurice’ head
She ne’er spake words but three:
‘I never bare no child but one,
And you have slain him, trulye.’

XXXV

And she has taken the bloody head
And kiss’d it, cheek and chin:
‘I was once as full o’ Childe Maurice
As the hip is o’ the stane.

XXXVI

‘I got him in my mother’s bower
Wi’ mickle sin and shame;
I brought him up in the good greenwood
Under the shower and rain.’

XXXVII

And she has taken her Childe Maurice
And kiss’d him, mouth and chin:
‘O better I love my Childe Maurice
Than all my royal kin!’

XXXVIII

‘Woe be to thee!’ John Steward he said,
And a woe, woe man was he;
‘For if you had told me he was your son
He had never been slain by me.’

XXXIX

Says, ‘Wicked be my merry men all,
I gave meat, drink and cloth!
But could they not have holden me
When I was in all that wrath?’

FOOTNOTES:

[339] kell = hair-net, i. e. give her as many greetings as there are meshes in a net.

[340] leeve = lovely.

[341] silver-gris = a fur of silver-grey.

[342] yode = walked.

[343] blan = stopped, stayed.

[344] kepp’d = caught.

[345] ezar =? _for_ ‘mazer,’ maple.

[346] weed = clothing.

[347] lease = leash, thong.

[348] ly’ed = lived.

[349] tak’ = take, catch.

_48. Brown Adam_

I

O wha would wish the wind to blau
Or the green leaves fa’ therewith?
Or wha would wish a lealer love
Than Brown Adam the Smith?

II

But they hae banish’d Brown Adam,
Frae father and frae mither;
And they hae banish’d Brown Adam,
Frae sister and frae brither.

III

And they hae banish’d Brown Adam
Frae the flow’r o’ a’ his kin;
And he’s biggit[350] a bow’r i’ the good green-wood
Between his ladye and him.

IV

O it fell once upon a day
Brown Adam he thought long,
And he is to the green-wood
As fast as he could gang.

V

He has ta’en his bow his arm over,
His sword intill his han’,
And he is to the good green-wood
To hunt some venison.

VI

O he’s shot up, and he’s shot down
The bunting on the breer[351];
And he’s sent it hame to his ladye,
Bade her be of good cheer.

VII

O he’s shot up, and he’s shot down,
The linnet on the thorn,
And sent it hame to his ladye,
Said he’d be hame the morn.

VIII

When he cam’ till his lady’s bow’r-door
He stood a little forbye,
And there he heard a fu’ fause knight
Tempting his gay ladye.

IX

O he’s ta’en out a gay gold ring
Had cost him mony a poun’;
‘O grant me love for love, ladye,
And this sall be your own.’--

X

‘I lo’e Brown Adam well,’ she says,
‘I wot sae does he me;
I wadna gie Brown Adam’s love
For nae fause knight I see.’

XI

Out he has ta’en a purse of gold
Was a’ fu’ to the string;
‘O grant me love for love, ladye,
And a’ this sall be thine.’--

XII

‘I lo’e Brown Adam well,’ she says,
‘An’ I ken sae does he me;
An’ I wadna be your light leman
For mair nor ye could gie.’

XIII

Then out he drew his lang, lang bran’,
And he’s flash’d it in her e’en:
‘Now grant me love for love, lady,
Or thro’ you this sall gang.’--

XIV

‘O,’ sighing said that gay ladye,
‘Brown Adam tarries lang!’--
Then up and starts him Brown Adam,
Says, ‘I’m just to your hand.’

XV

He’s gar’d him leave his bow, his bow,
He’s gar’d him leave his brand;
He’s gar’d him leave a better pledge--
Four fingers o’ his right hand.

FOOTNOTES:

[350] biggit = built.

[351] breer = briar.

_49. Jellon Grame_

I

O Jellon Grame sat in Silverwood,
He sharp’d his broadsword lang;
And he has call’d his little foot-page
An errand for to gang.

II

‘Win up, my bonny boy,’ he says,
‘As quickly as ye may;
For ye maun gang for Lillie Flower
Before the break of day.’--

III

The boy has buckled his belt about,
And through the green-wood ran;
And he came to the ladye’s bower
Before the day did dawn.

IV

‘O sleep ye, wake ye, Lillie Flower?
The red sun’s on the rain;
Ye’re bidden come to Silverwood,
But I doubt ye’ll never win hame.’

V

She hadna ridden a mile, a mile,
A mile but barely three,
Ere she came to a new-made grave
Beneath a green aik tree.

VI

O then up started Jellon Grame
Out of a bush thereby;
‘Light down, light down, now, Lillie Flower,
For it’s here that ye maun lye.’

VII

She lighted aff her milk-white steed,
And kneel’d upon her knee;
‘O mercy, mercy, Jellon Grame,
For I’m no prepared to die!

VIII

‘Your bairn, that stirs between my sides,
Maun shortly see the light;
But to see it weltering in my blood
Would be a piteous sight.’--

IX

‘O should I spare your life,’ he says,
‘Until that bairn were born,
Full weel I ken your auld father
Would hang me on the morn.’--

X

‘O spare my life now, Jellon Grame!
My father ye needna dread!
I’ll keep my babe in gude green-wood,
Or wi’ it I’ll beg my bread.’--

XI

He took nae pity on Lillie Flower,
Though she for life did pray;
But pierced her through the fair body
As at his feet she lay.

XII

He felt nae pity for Lillie Flower,
Where she was lying dead;
But he felt some for the bonny bairn
That lay weltering in her bluid.

XIII

Up has he ta’en that bonny boy,
Given him to nurses nine;
Three to sleep, and three to wake,
And three to go between.

XIV

And he bred up that bonny boy,
Call’d him his sister’s son;
And he thought nae eye could ever see
The deed that had been done.

XV

O so it fell upon a day,
When hunting they might be,
They rested them in Silverwood,
Beneath that green aik tree.

XVI

And many were the green-wood flowers
Upon that grave that grew,
And marvell’d much that bonny boy
To see their lovely hue.

XVII

‘What’s paler than the primrose wan?
What’s redder than the rose?
What’s fairer than the lilye flower
On this wee know[352] that grows?’--

XVIII

O out and answer’d Jellon Grame,
And he spak hastilie:
‘Your mother was a fairer flower,
And lies beneath this tree.

XIX

‘More pale she was, when she sought my grace,
Than primrose pale and wan;
And redder than rose her ruddy heart’s blood,
That down my broadsword ran.’--

XX

Wi’ that the boy has bent his bow,
It was baith stout and lang;
And thro’ and thro’ him, Jellon Grame,
He gar’d an arrow gang.

XXI

Says,--‘Lie ye there, now, Jellon Grame!
My malisoun gang you wi’!
The place that my mother lies buried in
Is far too good for thee.’

FOOTNOTES:

[352] wee know = little hillock.

_50. Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard_

_O wow for day!
And, dear, gin it were day!
Gin it were day, and I were away--
For I ha’ na lang time to stay._

I

As it fell on one holy-day,
As many be in the year,
When young men and maids together did go
Their matins and mass to hear,

II

Little Musgrave came to the church-door--
The priest was at private mass--
But he had more mind of the fair women
Than he had of Our Lady’s grace.

III

The one of them was clad in green,
Another was clad in pall[353],
And then came in my Lord Barnard’s wife,
The fairest amongst them all.

IV

She cast an eye on Little Musgrave
As bright as the summer sun;
And then bethought him Little Musgrave,
‘This lady’s heart have I won.’

V

Quoth she, ‘I have loved thee, Little Musgrave,
Full long and many a day.’--
‘So have I loved you, fair ladye,
Yet never word durst I say.’--

VI

‘But I have a bower at Bucklesfordberry,
Full daintily it is dight;
If thou’lt wend thither, thou Little Musgrave,
Thou’s lig[354] in my arms all night.’

VII

Quoth he, ‘I thank thee, fair ladye,
This kindness thou showest to me;
And whether it be to my weal or woe
This night I will lodge with thee.’

VIII

With that beheard a little tiny page,
By his lady’s coach as he ran.
Says, ‘Although I am my lady’s foot-page,
Yet I am Lord Barnard’s man.’

IX

Then he’s cast off his hose and shoon,
Set down his feet and ran,
And where the bridges were broken down
He bent his bow and swam.

X

‘Awake! awake! thou Lord Barnard,
As thou art a man of life!
Little Musgrave is at Bucklesfordberry
Along with thy own wedded wife.’--

XI

‘If this be true, thou little tiny page,
This thing thou tellest to me,
Then all the land in Bucklesfordberry
I freely will give to thee.

XII

‘But if it be a lie, thou little tiny page,
This thing thou tellest to me,
On the highest tree in Bucklesfordberry
Then hangèd shall thou be.’

XIII

He callèd up his merry men all:
‘Come saddle me my steed;
This night must I to Bucklesfordberry,
For I never had greater need.’

XIV

But some they whistled, and some they sung,
And some they thus could say,
Whenever Lord Barnard’s horn it blew:
_‘Away, Musgrave, away!..._

XV

‘Methinks I hear the threstle cock,
Methinks I hear the jay;
Methinks I hear Lord Barnard’s horn,
_Away, Musgrave, away!_’--

XVI

‘Lie still, lie still, thou little Musgrave,
And huggle me from the cold;
’Tis nothing but a shepherd’s boy
A-driving his sheep to the fold.’

XVII

By this, Lord Barnard came to his door
And lighted a stone upon;
And he’s pull’d out three silver keys,
And open’d the doors each one.

XVIII

He lifted up the coverlet,
He lifted up the sheet:
‘Dost thou like my bed, Little Musgrave?
Dost thou find my lady sweet?’--

XIX

‘I find her sweet,’ quoth Little Musgrave,
‘The more ’tis to my pain;
I would gladly give three hundred pounds
That I were on yonder plain.’--

XX

‘Arise, arise, thou Little Musgrave,
And put thy clothès on;
It shall ne’er be said in my country
I have kill’d a naked man.

XXI

‘I have two swords in one scabbard,
They are both sharp and clear;
Take you the best, and I the worst,
We’ll end the matter here.’

XXII

The first stroke Little Musgrave struck,
He hurt Lord Barnard sore;
The next stroke that Lord Barnard struck,
Little Musgrave ne’er struck more.

XXIII

With that bespake this fair lady,
In bed where as she lay:
‘Although thou’rt dead, thou Little Musgrave,
Yet I for thee will pray.

XXIV

‘And wish well to thy soul will I
So long as I have life;
So will I not for thee, Barnard,
Although I’m thy wedded wife.’

XXV

He cut her paps from off her breast;
Great pity it was to see
That some drops of this lady’s heart’s blood
Ran trickling down her knee.

XXVI

‘Woe worth you, woe worth, my merry men all,
You were ne’er born for my good!
Why did you not offer to stay my hand
When you saw me wax so wood[355]?

XXVII

‘For I have slain the fairest lady
That ever wore woman’s weed,
Soe I have slain the fairest lady
That ever did woman’s deed.

XXVIII

‘A grave, a grave,’ Lord Barnard cried,
‘To put these lovers in!
But lay my lady on the upper hand,
For she comes of the nobler kin.’

FOOTNOTES:

[353] pall = fine cloth.

[354] lig = lie.

[355] wood = mad, fierce.

_51. Lord Ingram and Childe Vyet_

I

Lord Ingram and Childe Vyet
Were both born in one hall;
Laid both their hearts on one lady;
The worse did them befall.

II

Lord Ingram woo’d Lady Maisry
From father and from mother;
Lord Ingram woo’d Lady Maisry
From sister and from brother;

III

Lord Ingram woo’d Lady Maisry
With leave of all her kin;
And every one gave full consent,
But she said ‘no’ to him.

IV

Now it fell out, upon a day
She was dressing of her head,
That in did come her father dear,
Wearing the gold so red.

V

‘Get up now, Lady Maisry,
Put on your wedding-gown;
For Lord Ingram he will be here,
Your wedding must be done.’--

VI

‘I’d rather be Childe Vyet’s wife,
The white fish for to sell,
Before I were Lord Ingram’s wife,
To wear the silk so well.

VII

‘I’d rather be Childe Vyet’s wife,
With him to beg my bread,
Before I were Lord Ingram’s wife,
To wear the gold so red....

VIII

‘O where will I get a bonny boy,
Will win gold to his fee,
And will run unto Childe Vyet
With this letter from me?’--

IX

‘O here I am, the boy,’ says one,
‘Will win gold to my fee,
And carry away any letter
To Childe Vyet from thee.’

X

The first line that Childe Vyet read,
A grievèd man was he;
The next line that Childe Vyet read,
A tear blinded his e’e.
‘I wonder what ails my one brother,
He’ll not let my love be!

XI

‘But I’ll send to my brother’s bridal--
The gammons o’ the swine--
With four and twenty buck and roe,
And ten tun of the wine;
And bid my love be blithe and glad,
And I will follow syne.’

XII

There was no groom in that castle
But got a gown of green;
And all was blithe, and all was glad,
But Lady Maisry was neen[356].

XIII

There was no cook in that kitchen
But got a gown of grey;
And all was blithe, and all was glad,
But Lady Maisry was wae.

XIV

O sweetly play’d the merry organs
Within her mother’s bower;
But dumb stood Lady Maisry,
And let the tears down pour.

XV

O sweetly play’d the harp so fine
Within her father’s hall;
But still stood Lady Maisry,
And let the tears down fall.

XVI

’Tween Mary Kirk and the castle
Was all spread o’er with garl[357],
To keep Lady Maisry and her maidens
From tramping on the marl.

XVII

From Mary Kirk to the castle
Was spread a cloth of gold,
To keep Lady Maisry and her maidens
From treading upon the mould.

XVIII

When mass was sung, and bells were rung,
And all men bound for bed,
Lord Ingram and Lady Maisry
In one bed they were laid.

XIX

When they were laid into one bed,
It was both soft and warm;
He laid his hand over her side,
Says, ‘I think you are with bairn.’--

XX

‘I told you once, so did I twice,
When ye came for my wooer,
That Childe Vyet, your one brother,
One night lay in my bower.

XXI

‘I told you twice, I told you thrice,
Ere ye came me to wed,
That Childe Vyet, your one brother,
One night lay in my bed.’--

XXII

‘O father your bairn on me, Maisry,
And on no other man;
And I’ll gie him to his dowry
Full fifty ploughs of land.’--

XXIII

‘I will not father my bairn on you,
Nor on no wrongeous man,
Though ye’d give him to his dowry
Five thousand ploughs of land.’

XXIV

He has taken out his trusty sword
And laid it between them tway;
Says, ‘Lie you there, you ill woman,
A maid for me till day.’

XXV

Then in it came him Childe Vyet,
Shed back his yellow hair,
And gave Lord Ingram to the heart
A deep wound and a sair.

XXVI

Then up did start him Lord Ingram
Shed back his coal-black hair,
And gave Childe Vyet to the heart
A deep wound and a sair.

XXVII

There was no pity for those two lords,
In bower where they lay slain;
But all was for Lady Maisry,
In bower where she went brain[358].

XXVIII

Says, ‘If I have been an ill woman,
Alas, and woe is me!
And if I have been an ill woman,
A good woman I’ll be.

XXIX

‘Ye’ll take from me my silk attire,
Bring me a palmer’s weed;
And for their sakes the world thoro’
I’ll gang and beg my bread.

XXX

‘If I gang a step for Childe Vyet,
For Lord Ingram I’ll gang three;
All for the honour that he paid
At Mary Kirk to me.’

FOOTNOTES:

[356] neen = none, not.

[357] garl =? gravel.

[358] brain = mad.

_52. Fair Janet_

I

‘Ye maun gang to your father, Janet,
Ye maun gang to him sune;
Ye maun gang to your father, Janet,
In case that his days are dune.’

II

Janet’s awa’ to her father
As fast as she could hie:
‘O what’s your will wi’ me, father?
O what’s your will wi’ me?’--

III

‘My will wi’ you, Fair Janet,’ he said,
‘It is both bed and board;
Some say that ye love Sweet Willie,
But ye maun wed a French lord.’

IV

Janet’s awa to her chamber
As fast as she could go;
Wha’s the first ane that tappèd there,
But Sweet Willie her jo[359]?

V

‘O we maun part this love, Willie,
That has been lang between;
There’s a French lord coming o’er the sea
To wed me wi’ a ring.’--

VI

‘If we maun part this love, Janet,
It causeth mickle woe;
If we maun part this love, Janet,
It makes me in mourning go.’--

VII

‘But ye maun gang to your three sisters,
Meg, Marion and Jean;
Tell them to come to Fair Janet,
In case that her days are dune.’

VIII

Willie’s awa’ to his three sisters,
Meg, Marion and Jean:
‘O haste and gang to Fair Janet,
I fear that her days are dune!’

IX

Some drew to them their silken hose,
Some drew to them their shoon,
Some drew to them their silk manteils,
Their coverings to put on;
And they’re awa’ to Fair Janet
By the hie light o’ the moon....

X

‘O I have borne this babe, Willie,
Wi’ mickle toil and pain;
Take hame, take hame your babe, Willie,
For nurse I dare be nane.’

XI

He’s ta’en his young son in his arms
And kiss’d him cheek and chin,
And he’s awa’ to his mother’s bower
By the hie light o’ the moon.

XII

‘O open, open, mother!’ he says,
‘O open, and let me in!
The rain rains on my yellow hair
And the dew drops o’er my chin;
And I hae my young son in my arms,--
I fear that his days are dune.’

XIII

Then with her fingers long and sma’
She lifted up the pin,
And with her arms sae long and sma’
Received the baby in.

XIV

‘Gae back, gae back now, Sweet Willie,
And comfort your fair ladye;
For where ye had but ae nourice
Your young son shall hae three.’

XV

Willie he was scarce awa’
And Janet put to bed,
When in and came her father dear:
‘Mak’ haste, and busk[360] the bride!’--

XVI

‘There’s a sair pain in my head, father,
There’s a sair pain in my side;
And ill, O ill I am, father,
This day for to be a bride!’--

XVII

‘O ye maun busk this bonny bride,
And put a gay mantle on;
For she shall wed this auld French lord,
Gin she should die this morn.’

XVIII

Some put on the gay green robes,
And some put on the brown;
But Janet put on the scarlet robes,
Shone foremost thro’ the town.

XIX

And some they mounted the black steed,
And some mounted the brown;
But Janet mounted the milk-white steed,
Rode foremost thro’ the town.

XX

‘O wha will guide your horse, Janet?
O wha will guide him best?’--
‘O wha but Willie, my true-love?
He kens I love him best.’

XXI

And when they came to Mary’s kirk
To tie the holy ban’,
Fair Janet’s colour gaed and came,
And her cheek look’d pale and wan.

XXII

When dinner it was past and done,
And dancing to begin,
‘O we’ll go take the bride’s maidens,
And we’ll go fill the ring.’

XXIII

O ben then came the auld French lord,
Saying, ‘Bride, will ye dance wi’ me?’--
‘Awa’, awa’, ye auld French lord!
Your face I downa see.’

XXIV

O ben then came Sweet Willie,
He came with ane advance:
‘O I’ll go tak’ the bride’s maidens,
And we’ll go tak’ a dance.’--

XXV

‘I’ve seen ither days wi’ you, Willie,
And so has mony mae[361],
Ye would hae danced wi’ me mysel’,
Let a’ my maidens gae.’

XXVI

O ben now came Sweet Willie,
Saying, ‘Bride, will ye dance wi’ me?’--
‘Ay, by my sooth, and that I will
Gin my back should break in three.’

XXVII

She hadna danced her o’er the floor,
She hadna turn’d but thrice,
When she fell doun at Willie’s feet,
And up did never rise.

XXVIII

Willie’s ta’en the key of his coffer
And gi’en it to his man:
‘Gae hame, and tell my mother dear
My horse he has me slain;
And bid her be kind to my young son,
For father he has nane.’

FOOTNOTES:

[359] jo = sweetheart.

[360] busk = array.

[361] mae = more.

_53. Old Robin of Portingale_

I

God! let never soe old a man
Marry soe young a wife
As did old Robin of Portingale!
He may rue all the days of his life.

II

For the Mayor’s daughter of Lin, God wot,
He chose her to his wife,
And thought to have lived in quietnesse
With her all the dayes of his life.

III

They had not in their wed-bed laid,
Scarcely were both on sleepe,
But up she rose, and forth she goes
To Sir Gyles, and fast can weepe.

IV

Saies, ‘Sleepe you, wake you, faire Sir Gyles?
Or be you not within?
[Or hear you not your true love
That tirleth at the pin?’]--

V

‘But I am waking, sweete,’ he said,
‘Lady, what is your will?’--
I have unbethought[362] me of a wile
How my wed lord we shall spill.

VI

‘Four and twenty knights,’ she sayes,
‘That dwells about this towne,
E’en four and twenty of my next cozens
Will help to ding[363] him downe.’

VII

With that beheard his little foot-page,
Was watering his master’s steed;
Soe [sore a hearing it was to him]
His very heart did bleed.

VIII

He mournèd, sikt[364], and wept full sore;
I swear by the Holy Rood
The teares he for his master wept
Were blent water and bloude.

IX

With that beheard his dear mastèr
As he in his garden sate;
Sayes, ‘Ever alack, my little page,
What causes thee to weepe?

X

‘Hath any one done to thee wronge,
Any of thy fellowes here?
Or is any of thy good friends dead,
What makes thee shed such teares?

XI

‘Or if it be my head-cookes-man
Griev’d againe[365] he shall be,
Nor noe man within my house
Shall doe wrong unto thee.’--

XII

‘But it is not your head-cookes-man,
Nor none of his degree;
But or tomorrow, ere it be noone
You are deemèd[366] to die.

XIII

‘And of that thanke your head-steward,
And, after, your ladie fair.’--
‘If it be true, my little foot-page,
Of my land I’ll make thee heir.’--

XIV

‘If it be not true, my deare master,
God let me never thye[367].’--
‘If it be not true, thou little foot-page,
A dead corse shalt thou be.’

XV

He callèd down his head-cookes-man
In kitchen supper to dress;
‘All and anon, my deere master!
Anon at your request!’--

XVI

[‘Let supper be drest, and of the best
Let it preparèd be]
And call you downe my faire lady,
This night to supp with mee.’

XVII

And downe then came that fair lady,
’Was clad all in purple and palle[368];
The rings that were upon her fingers
Cast light thorrow the hall.

XVIII

‘What is your will, my owne wed lord,
What is your will with mee?’--
‘’Tis I am sicke, fayre lady,
Sore sicke and like to dye.’--

XIX

‘But an you be sicke, my owne wed lord,
Soe sore it grieveth mee;
But my five maidens and my selfe
[Will bedd you presentlye].

XX

‘And at the waking of your first sleepe
You shall have a hott drinke made,
And at the waking of your next sleepe
Your sorrowes will have a slake.’

XXI

He put a silk cote on his backe
’Was thirteen inches folde,
And put a steele cap upon his head
’Was gilded with good red gold.

XXII

And he layd a bright browne sword by his side,
And another at his feete,
And full well knew Old Robin then
Whether he shold wake or sleepe.

XXIII

And about the middle time of the night
Came twenty-four Knights in;
Sir Gyles he was the foremost man,
Soe well he knew that ginne[369].

XXIV

Old Robin with a bright browne sword
Sir Gyles’ head he did winne,
Soe did he all those twenty-four,
Ne’er a one went quicke[370] out [agen];

XXV

None but one little foot-page
Crept forth at a window of stone;
And he had two armes when he came in
And [when he went out he had one].

XXVI

Upp then came that ladie light,
With torches burning bright;
Shee thought to have brought Sir Gyles a drinke,
But shee found her owne wed Knight.

XXVII

And the first thing that shee stumbled upon
Was of Sir Gyles his foote;
Sayes, ‘Ever alacke, and woe is me,
Here lies my sweet hart-roote[371]!’

XXVIII

And the second thing shee stumbled upon
Was of Sir Gyles his head;
Sayes, ‘Ever alacke, and woe is me,
Here lyes my true-love deade!’

XXIX

He cut the papps beside her brest,
And bade her wish her will;
And he cutt the eares beside her heade,
And bade her wish on still.

XXX

‘Mickle is the men’s blood I have spent
To doe thee and me some good’;
Sayes, ‘Ever alacke, my fayre lady,
I thinke that I was woode[372]!’

XXXI

And he shope[373] the cross on his right sho’lder
Of the white flesh and the redd,
And he went him into the Holy Land,
Wheras Christ was quicke and deade.

FOOTNOTES:

[362] unbethought = bethought.

[363] ding = smite.

[364] sikt = sighed.

[365] againe = in return.

[366] deemèd = doomed.

[367] thye = thrive.

[368] palle = fine cloth.

[369] ginne = gin, contrivance, here a door-latch.

[370] quicke = alive.

[371] hart-roote = heart-root, dear one.

[372] woode = mad.

[373] shope = shaped, made.

_54. Lord Thomas and Fair Annet_

I

Lord Thomas and Fair Annet
Sat all day on a hill;
When night was come, and sun was set,
They had not talk’d their fill.

II

Lord Thomas said a word in jest,
Fair Annet took it ill:
‘I’ll never wed a tocherless[374] maid
Against my ain friends’ will.’--

III

‘Gif ye’ll not wed a tocherless wife,
A wife will ne’er wed ye:
Fare ye well now, Lord Thomas,
It’s fare ye well a wee.’

IV

O Annet she’s gane till her bower,
Lord Thomas down the den;
And he’s come till his mither’s bower
By the lee[375] light o’ the moon.

V

‘O sleep ye, wake ye, mither?’ he says,
‘Or are ye the bower within?’--
‘I sleep right aft, I wake right aft;
What want ye with me, son?

VI

‘Where have ye been a’ night, Thomas?
O wow, ye’ve tarried long!’--
‘I have been courtin’ Fair Annet,
And she is frae me gone.

VII

‘O rede[376], O rede, mither,’ he says,
‘A gude rede gie to me:
O sall I tak’ the nut-brown bride,
And let Fair Annet be?’--

VIII

‘The nut-brown bride has gold and gear,
Fair Annet she’s got nane;
And the little beauty Fair Annet has
O it will soon be gane.

IX

‘It’s an’ ye wed the nut-brown bride,
I’ll heap gold wi’ my hand;
But an’ ye wed her, Fair Annet,
I’ll straik[377] it wi’ a wand.

X

‘The nut-brown bride has sheep and kye,
Fair Annet she’s got nane;
Son Thomas, for my benison
Bring ye the brown bride hame.’--

XI

‘But alas, alas!’ says Lord Thomas,
‘O fair is Annet’s face!’--
‘But what matter for that, son Thomas?
She has nae ither grace.’--

XII

‘Alas, alas!’ says Lord Thomas,
‘But white is Annet’s hand!’--
‘What matter for that, son Thomas?
She has not a fur’[378] o’ land.’--

XIII

‘Sheep will die in cots, mither,
And owsen[379] die in byre;
And what is warldis wealth to me,
An’ I getna my heart’s desire?’

XIV

And he has till his sister gane:
‘Now, sister, rede ye me;
O sall I marry the nut-brown bride
And set Fair Annet free?’--

XV

‘I’se rede ye tak’ Fair Annet, Thomas,
And let the brown bride alane,
Lest ye should sigh and say Alas!
What is this we brought hame?’--

XVI

‘No, I will tak’ my mither’s counsel,
And marry me out of hand;
And I will tak’ the nut-brown bride;
Fair Annet may leave the land.’

XVII

Up then rose Fair Annet’s father
Twa hours or it were day,
And he is gone to Fair Annet,
To the bower wherein she lay.

XVIII

‘Rise up, rise up, Fair Annet,’ he says,
‘Put on your silken sheen;
Ye are bidden come to St. Mary’s Kirk,
To see a rich weddin’.’...

XIX

‘My maids, gae to my dressing-room
And dress to me my hair;
Where’er ye laid a plait before
See ye lay ten times mair.

XX

‘My maids gae to my dressing-room
And dress to me my smock,
The one half is o’ the holland fine,
The other o’ needle-work.’

XXI

At yae[380] tett[381] o’ her horse’s mane
Was tied a silver bell,
And yae tift[382] o’ the norland wind
It gar’d them a’ to knell.

XXII

Four and twenty gay good knights
Rade by Fair Annet’s side,
And four and twenty fair ladies
As gin she had been a bride.

XXIII

And when she came to Mary’s Kirk,
She shimmer’d like the sun;
The belt that was about her waist
Was a’ wi’ pearls bedone[383].

XXIV