Chapter XVI: Book II: 35. Hynd Horn (3)

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And when she came to Mary’s Kirk,
And sat down in the deas[384],
The cleiding[385] that Fair Annet had on
Enlighten’d a’ that place.

XXV

She sat her by the nut-brown bride,
And her e’en they were sae clear,
Lord Thomas he clean forgat the bride
When Fair Annet drew near.

XXVI

He had a rose into his hand,
He gave it kisses three,
And reaching by the nut-brown bride,
Laid it on Annet’s knee.

XXVII

‘O wha is this, my father dear,
Blinks in Lord Thomas’s e’e?’--
‘O this Lord Thomas’s first true-love
Before he lovèd thee.’

XXVIII

Up then spake the nut-brown bride--
She spake wi’ mickle spite:
‘And where gat ye the rose-water
That washes thy face so white?’--

XXIX

‘O I did get my rose-water
Where ye will ne’er get nane,
For I did get that very rose-water
Into my mither’s wame[386].’

XXX

The bride she drew a long bodkin
Frae out her gay head-gear,
And strake Fair Annet to the heart,
That word spak’ never mair.

XXXI

‘O Christ thee save!’ Lord Thomas he said,
‘Methinks thou look’st wondrous wan;
Thou was used to look with as fresh a colour
As ever the sun shined on.’

XXXII

‘O art thou blind, Lord Thomas?’ she said,
‘Or canst thou not very well see?
Or dost thou not see my own heart’s blood
Runs trickling down my knee?’

XXXIII

Lord Thomas he saw Fair Annet was pale,
And marvellèd what mote be;
But when he saw her dear heart’s blood,
All wood-wroth[387] waxèd he.

XXXIV

He drew his dagger frae his side,
That was so sharp and meet,
And drave it into the nut-brown bride,
That fell dead at his feet.

XXXV

‘Now stay for me, dear Annet,’ he said,
‘Now stay, my dear!’ he cried;
Then strake the dagger untill his heart,
And fell dead by her side.

FOOTNOTES:

[374] tocherless = without a dowry.

[375] lee = calm, pleasant.

[376] rede = counsel.

[377] straik = stroke, as one might smooth over the top of a bushel of corn to make it bare measure.

[378] fur’ = furrow.

[379] owsen = oxen.

[380] yae = each.

[381] tett = tuft.

[382] tift = puff, whiff.

[383] bedone = adorned.

[384] deas = daïs, pew.

[385] cleiding = clothing.

[386] wame = womb.

[387] wood-wroth = mad with rage.

_55. Rose the Red and White Lily_

O Rose the Red and White Lilly,
Their mother dear was dead,
And their father married an ill woman
Wish’d them twa little gude.

Yet she had twa as fu’ fair sons
As e’er brake manis bread;
And Bold Arthur he lo’ed her White Lilly
And Brown Robin Rose the Red.

III

O they hae biggit a bigly[388] tow’r,
And strawn it o’er wi’ sand;
There was mair mirth i’ these ladies’ bow’r
Than in a’ their father’s land.

But out and spake their step-mither,
At the stair-foot stood she:
‘I’m plaguit wi’ your troublesome noise!
What makes[389] your melodie?

‘O Rose the Red, ye sing too loud,
White Lilly, your voice is strang:
But gin I live and bruik[390] my life,
I’ll gar ye change your sang.’

She’s call’d her son, Brown Robin,
‘Come hither, my son, to me;
It fears me sair, my eldest son,
That ye maun sail the sea.’--

VII

‘Gin it fear you sair, my mither dear,
Your bidding I maun dee;
But be never warse to Rose the Red
Than ye ha’ been to me.’--

VIII

‘O haud your tongue, my eldest son,
For sma’ sall be her part;
You’ll ne’er get kiss o’ her comely mouth,
Tho’ you sh’uld break your heart.’

She’s call’d her son, Bold Arthur:
‘Come hither, my son, to me;
It fears me sair, my youngest son,
That ye maun sail the sea.’--

‘Gin it fear you sair, my mither dear,
Your bidding I maun dee;
But be never warse to White Lilly
Than ye ha’ been to me.’--

‘O haud your tongue, my yongest son,
For sma’ sall be her part;
You’ll ne’er get kiss o’ White Lilly’s mouth
Tho’ it break your very heart.’

XII

When Rose the Red and White Lilly
Saw their twa loves were gane,
Then stoppit ha’ they their loud, loud sang
For and the still mournin’:
And their step-mither stood forbye,
To hear the maiden’s mane[391].

XIII

Then out it spake her White Lilly:
‘My sister, we’ll be gane;
Why should we stay in Burnèsdale
To waste our youth in pain?’

XIV

Then cuttit ha’ they their green clothing
A little below their knee,
And sae ha’ they their yellow hair
A little abune their bree[392];
And they’re do’en them to haly chapel,
Was christen’d by Our Ladye.

There ha’ they changed their ain twa names,
Sae far frae ony town;
And the tane o’ them hight[393] Sweet Willy,
And the tither Roge the Roun[394].

XVI

Between this twa a vow was made,
And they sware it to fulfil;
That at three blasts o’ a bugle-horn
She’d come her sister till.

XVII

Now Sweet Willy’s gane to the Kingis court,
Her true-love there to see,
And Roge the Roun to good green-wood,
Brown Robin’s man to be.

XVIII

As it fell out upon a day
They a’ did put the stane,
Fu’ seven feet ayont them a’
She gar’d the puttin’-stane gang.

XIX

She lean’d her back against an oak,
And ga’e a loud Ohone!
Then out it spake him Brown Robin,
‘But that’s a woman’s moan!’

‘O ken ye by my red rose lip?
Or by my yallow hair?
Or ken ye by my milk-white breast?
For ye never saw it bare.’

XXI

‘I ken no by your red rose lip,
Nor by your yallow hair;
Nor ken I by your milk-white breast,
For I never saw it bare;
But come to your bow’r whaever sae likes
Will find a lady there.’

XXII

About the tenth hour of the night
The lady’s bow’r-door was broken;
And ere the first hour of the night
The bonny knave-bairn[395] was gotten.

XXIII

When days were gane, and months were run,
Rose the Red took travailing;
And sair she cried for a bow’r-woman,
Her pine[396] to wait upon.

XXIV

Then out it spake him Brown Robin:
‘Now what needs a’ this din?
For what cou’d any woman do
But I cou’d do the same?’--

XXV

‘It was never my mither’s fashion,
Nor sall it e’er be mine,
That belted Knights shou’d e’er stand by
Where ladies dreed[397] their pine.

XXVI

‘But tak’ ye up my bugle-horn,
And blaw three blasts for me;
I’ve a brither in the Kingis court
Will come me quickly ti’.’--

XXVII

‘O gin ye hae a brither on earth
That ye love better nor me,
Ye blaw the horn yoursel’,’ he says,
‘For ae blast I’ll not gie.’

XXVIII

She set the horn untill her mouth,
And blawn three blasts sae shrill;
Sweet Willy heard i’ the Kingis court,
And came her quickly till....

XXIX

[Word is to the kitchen gane,
And word is to the ha’,
Bold Arthur’s lost his little foot-page,
To the green-wood stown awa’.]

XXX

And word has gane to the Kingis court,
To the King himsel’ [at dine]
‘Now, by my fay,’ the King can say,
[‘Sweet Willy we maun find.’]

XXXI

‘Bring me my steed,’ then cry’d the King,
‘My bow and arrows keen;
I’ll ride mysel’ to good green-wood
An’ see what’s to be seen.’

XXXII

‘An’t please your grace,’ says Bold Arthur,
‘My liege I’ll gang you wi’,
An’ try to find my little foot-page
That’s stray’d awa’ frae me.’

XXXIII

O they have hunted in good green-wood
The back but and the rae.
And they’ve drawn near Brown Robin’s bow’r
About the close of day.

XXXIV

Then out it spak’ the King in haste,
Says, ‘Arthur, look an’ see
Gin that be no your little foot-page
That leans against yon tree?’

XXXV

Bold Arthur took his bugle-horn,
And blew a blast sae shrill,
Sweet Willy started at the sound
And ran him quickly till.

XXXVI

‘O wanted ye your meat, Willy?
Or wanted ye your fee?
Or get ye ever an angry word,
That ye ran awa’ frae me?’--

XXXVII

‘I wanted nought, my master dear;
To me ye aye was good;
I came but to see my ae brither
That wons[398] in this green-wood.’

XXXVIII

Then out and spak’ the King again,
Says, ‘Bonny boy, tell to me
Who lives into yon bigly bow’r,
Stands by yon green oak-tree?’

XXXIX

‘O pardon me,’ says Sweet Willy,
‘My liege, I daurna tell;
And I pray you go no near that bow’r,
For fear they do you fell[399].’--

‘O haud your tongue, my bonny boy.
For I winna be said nay;
But I will gang that bow’r within,
Betide me weal or wae.’

XLI

They’ve lighted off their milk-white steeds,
And saftly enter’d in;
And then they saw her, Rose the Red,
Nursing her bonny young son.

XLII

‘Now, by the rood,’ the King could say,
‘This is a comely sight;
I trow, instead of a forrester,
This is a lady bright!’

XLIII

Then out it spake White Lilly
And fell down on her knee:
‘O pardon us, my gracious liege,
An’ our story I’ll tell to thee.

XLIV

‘Our father was a wealthy lord,
That wonn’d in Barnèsdale;
But we had a wicked step-mother,
That wrought us mickle bale[400].

XLV

‘Yet she had twa as fu’ fair sons
As ever the sun did see;
An’ the tane o’ them lo’ed my sister dear,
An’ the tother said he lo’ed me.’

XLVI

Then out and spak’ him Bold Arthur,
As by the King he stood,
‘Now, this should be my White Lilly,
An’ that should be Rose the Red!’

XLVII

Then in it came him Brown Robin
Frae hunting o’ the deer,
But whan he saw the King was there,
He started back for fear.

XLVIII

The King has ta’en him by the hand
And bade him naething dread;
Says, ‘Ye maun leave the good green-wood,
Come to the court wi’ speed.’

XLIX

Then up he took Brown Robin’s son,
And set him on his knee;
Says, ‘Gin ye live to wield a bran’,
My bowman ye sall be.’

The King he sent for robes o’ green,
And girdles o’ shining gold;
He gart the ladies be array’d
Most comely to behold.

They’ve doen them unto Mary Kirk,
And there gat fair weddìng,
And whan the news spread o’er the lan’,
For joy the bells did ring.

LII

Then out it spak’ her Rose the Red,
And a hearty laugh laugh’d she;
‘I wonder what would our step-dame say,
Gin she this sight did see!’

FOOTNOTES:

[388] bigly = commodious, habitable.

[389] makes = means.

[390] bruik = brook enjoy.

[391] mane = moan.

[392] abune their bree = above their brows.

[393] hight = was called.

[394] Roun = roan, red.

[395] knave-bairn = man-child.

[396] pine = pain.

[397] dreed = endured.

[398] wons = dwells.

[399] fell = kill.

[400] bale = harm.

_56. Leesome Brand_

_or, The Sheath and the Knife_

‘There is a feast in your father’s house,
_The broom blooms bonnie and sae it is fair_--
It becomes you and me to be very douce[401],
_And we’ll never gang down to the broom nae mair.’_

But it is talk’d all over [the land],
‘Lady Marget’s plighted to Leesome Brand.’

III

He’s done him to her father’s stable
And tane twa steeds baith wicht[402] and able:

Ane for him, and another for her
To carry them baith wi’ might and virr[403].

When they had ridden about six mile,
Lady Marget then began to fail.

‘O gin I had but a gude midwife
Here this day to save my life!

VII

‘Ye’ll take your arrow and your bow
And ye will hunt the deer and roe.

VIII

‘But be sure ye touch not the milk-white hynde,
For she is o’ the woman-kind.’

He took sic pleasure in deer and rae
Till he forgot his ladye gay.

Till by it came that milk-white hynde,
And then he mind on his ladye syne.

He heard her gie a loud, loud cry,
He shot his bow, and he let her lie.

XII

When he saw she was lying still,
He threw down his bow and came running her till[404];

XIII

But he found his ladye lying dead,
Likewise her young son at her head.

XIV

He’s houkit[405] a grave, long, large and wide,
He’s buried his auld[406] son doun by her side.

It was nae wonder his heart was sair
When he shool’d[407] the mools[408] on her yellow hair.

XVI

His mother lay owre her castle wa’;
There was music and minstrels and dancing and a’.

XVII

[She said as she look’d owre] dale and down,
‘My son comes merrilie to the toun.’--

XVIII

‘Seek nae minstrels to play in your room,
Your son comes sorry to the toun.

XIX

‘O I hae lost my gowden knife;
I rather had lost my ain sweet life!

‘And I hae lost a far better thing,
The gilded sheath that it was in.’--

XXI

‘Are there nae gowdsmiths here in Fife
Can make to you anither knife?

XXII

‘Are there nae sheath-makers in the land
Can make a sheath to Leesome Brand?’--

XXIII

‘There are nae gowdsmiths here in Fife
Can make to me sic a gowden knife;

XXIV

‘Nor nae sheath-makers in the land
Can make to me sic a sheath again.

XXV

‘For I’ve lost my lady I loved sae dear,
_The broom blooms bonnie and sae it is fair_--
Likewise the son she did me bear,
_And we’ll never gang doun to the broom nae mair._’

FOOTNOTES:

[401] douce = quiet.

[402] wicht = sturdy.

[403] virr = vigour.

[404] her till = to her.

[405] houkit = dug.

[406] auld = eldest, first-born.

[407] shool’d = shovelled.

[408] mools = mould.

_57. Babylon_

_or, The Bonnie Banks o’ Fordie_

There where three ladies live in a bower--
_Eh, wow, bonnie!_
And they went out to pull a flower
_On the bonnie banks o’ Fordie._

They hadna pu’ed a flower but ane,
When up started to them a banisht man.

III

He’s ta’en the first sister by her hand,
And he’s turn’d her round and made her stand.

‘It’s whether will ye be a rank robber’s wife,
Or will ye die by my wee pen-knife?’

‘It’s I’ll not be a rank robber’s wife,
But I’ll rather die by your wee pen-knife.’

He’s killed this may, and he’s laid her by,
For to bear the red rose company.

VII

He’s ta’en the second ane by the hand,
And he’s turn’d her round and made her stand.

VIII

‘It’s whether will ye be a rank robber’s wife,
Or will ye die by my wee pen-knife?’

‘It’s I’ll not be a rank robber’s wife,
But I’ll rather die by your wee pen-knife.’

He’s killed this may, and he’s laid her by,
For to bear the red rose company.

He’s taken the youngest ane by the hand,
And he’s turn’d her round and made her stand.

XII

Says, ‘Will ye be a rank robber’s wife,
Or will ye die by my wee pen-knife?’

XIII

‘It’s I’ll not be a rank robber’s wife,
Nor will I die by your wee pen-knife.

XIV

‘For in this wood a brother I hae;
And gin ye kill me, it’s he’ll kill thee.’

‘What’s thy brother’s name? come tell to me.’
‘My brother’s name is Baby Lon.’

XVI

‘O sister, sister, what have I done!
O have I done this ill to thee!

XVII

‘O since I’ve done this evil deed,
Good sall never be my meed.’

XVIII

He’s taken out his wee pen-knife,
_Eh, wow, bonnie!_
And he’s twyn’d[409] himsel’ o’ his ain sweet life
_On the bonnie banks o’ Fordie_.

FOOTNOTES:

[409] twyned = taken away, bereaved.

_58. Prince Robert_

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

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

III

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

She his put it to her roudès[410] lip,
And to her roudès chin;
She has put it to her fause, fause mouth,
But the never a drop gaed in.

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

‘O ye hae poison’d your ae son, mother
Your ae son and your heir;
O ye hae poisoned your ae son, mother,
And sons you’ll never hae mair.

VII

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

VIII

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

O he has run to Darlinton,
And tirlèd at the pin;
And wha was sae ready as Eleanor’s sel’
To let the bonny boy in?

‘Your gude-mother’s made ye a rare dinour,
She’s made it baith gude and fine;
Your gude-mother’s made ye a gay dinour,
And ye maun come till her and dine.’

It’s twenty lang miles to Sillertoun town,
The langest that ever were gane;
But the steed it was wight, and the ladye was light,
And she cam’ linkin’ in.

XII

But when she came to Sillertoun town,
And into Sillertoun ha’,
The torches were burning, the ladies were mourning,
And they were weeping a’.

XIII

‘O where is now my wedded lord,
And where now can he be?
O where is now my wedded lord?
For him I canna see.’--

XIV

‘Your wedded lord is dead,’ she says,
‘And just gane to be laid in the clay;
Your wedded lord is dead,’ she says,
‘And just gane to be buried the day.

‘Ye’se get nane o’ his gowd, ye’se get nane o’ his gear,
Ye’se get nae thing frae me;
Ye’se na get an inch o’ his gude broad land,
Tho’ your heart suld burst in three.’

XVI

‘I want nane o’ his gowd, I want nane o’ his gear,
I want nae land frae thee;
But I’ll hae the rings that’s on his finger,
For them he did promise to me.’

XVII

‘Ye’se na get the rings that’s on his finger,
Ye’se na get them frae me;
Ye’se na get the rings that’s on his finger,
An’ your heart suld burst in three.’

XVIII

She’s turn’d her back unto the wa’,
And her face unto a rock,
And there, before the mother’s face,
Her very heart it broke.

FOOTNOTES:

[410] roudès = hag-like.

_59. Young Andrew_

As I was cast in my first sleepe,
A dreadfull draught[411] in my mind I drew,
For I was dreamèd of a young man,
Some men callèd him Yonge Andrew.

The moone shone bright, and it cast a fayre light:
‘Welcome,’ says she, ‘my honey, my sweete!
For I have loved thee this seven long yeare,
And our chance it was we co’ld never meete’

III

Then he tooke her in his armès two
And kissèd her both cheeke and chin,
And twise or thrise he kissèd this may[412]
Before they two did part in twin.

‘Faire maid I cannot do as I wo’ld;
[Yet what I can will I pleasure thee]
Goe home and fett[413] thy father’s red gold,
And I’le goe to the church and marry thee.’

This ladye is gone to her father’s hall,
And well she knew where his red gold [lain],
And counted forth five hundred pound,
Besides all other jewels and chaines:

And brought it all to Younge Andrew,
It was well counted upon his knee:
Then he tooke her by the lilye-white hand
And led her up to an hill sae hie.

VII

She had on a gowne of blacke velvett,
(A pityfull sight after ye shall see)
‘Put off thy clothes, bonny wenche,’ he sayes,
‘For no foot further thou’st gang with mee.’

VIII

But then she put off her gowne of velvett,
With many a salt teare from her e’e,
And in a kirtle of fine breaden[414] silke
She stood before Yonge Andrew’s e’e.

Sayes, ‘O put off thy kirtle of silke,
For some and all shall goe with mee;
Unto my owne lady I must it beare,
Whom I must needs love better than thee!’

Then she put off her kirtle of silke,
With many a salt teare still from her e’e;
In a petticoate of scarlett redd
She stood before Yonge Andrew’s e’e.

Sayes, ‘O put off thy petticoate,
For some and all shall goe with mee;
Unto my owne ladye I will it beare,
That dwells soe far in a strange countrye.’

XII

But then she put off her petticoate,
With many a salt teare still from her e’e,
And in a smocke of brave white silk
She stood before Yonge Andrew’s e’e.

XIII

Sayes, ‘O put off thy smocke of silke,
For some and all shall goe with me;
Unto my owne ladye I will it beare,
That dwells soe far in a strange countrye.’--

XIV

Sayes, ‘O remember, Yonge Andrew,
Once of a woman you were borne;
And for the birth that Marye bore
I pray you let my smocke be upon!’--

Sayes, ‘Yes, fayre ladye I know it well,
Once of a woman I was borne;
Yet for noe birth that Marye bore
Thy smocke shall not be left upon.’

XVI

But then she put off her headgeare fine--
She had billaments[415] worth a hundred pound--
The hayre was upon that bonny wench’ head
Cover’d her bodye downe to the ground.

XVII

Then he pull’d forth a Scottish brand,
And held it there in his owne right hand;
Sayes, ‘Whether wilt dye upon my sword’s point,
Or thou wilt goe naked home againe?’--

XVIII

‘Life is sweet,’ then, ‘Sir,’ said she,
‘Therefore I pray you leave me with mine;
Before I wo’ld dye on your sword’s point
I had rather goe naked home againe.

XIX

‘My father,’ she sayes, ‘is a right good earle
As any remaines in his owne countrye;
Gif ever he doe your bodye take,
You are sure to flower a gallow-tree.

‘And I have seven brethren,’ she sayes,
‘And they are all hardy men and bold;
Gif ever they doe your bodye take
You’ll never again gang quicke over molde.’--

XXI

‘If your father be a right good earle
As any remaines in his owne countrye,
Tush! he shall never my bodye take,
I’ll gang soe fast and over the sea.

XXII

‘If you have seven brethren,’ he sayes,
‘If they be never soe hardy and bold,
Tush! they shall never my bodye take,
I’ll gang soe fast over Scottish molde.’

XXIII

This ladye is gone to her father’s hall,
Where every body their rest did take;
For but the Earle which was her father
Lay wakin’ for his deere daughter’s sake.

XXIV

‘But who is that,’ her father can say--
‘Who is’t soe privily knows the pinn?’
‘It’s Helen, your owne deere daughter, father,
I pray you rise and lett me in!

XXV

[‘I pray you, pray you, lett me in!’--]
‘Noe, by my hood!’ quoth her father then;
‘My house thou’st never come within,
Without I had my red gold againe.’

XXVI

‘Nay, nay, your gold is gone, father,
[Yet I pray you rise and let me in!’]
‘Then naked thou came into this world,
And naked thou shalt return againe.’

XXVII

‘Nay, God forgave His death, father,
And soe I hope you will doe mee.’
‘Away, away, thou cursèd woman!
Pray God an ill death thou may dee!’

XXVIII

I’ the morning, when her father got upp,
A pittyful sight there he might see;
His owne deere daughter was dead, without clothes,--
And this was the end of that bonny ladye.

XXIX

But let us leave talking of this ladye
And talke some more of Yonge Andrew:
For false he was to this bonny ladye--
More pitty that he had not beene true!

XXX

He was not gone in the forest a mile,
Or half a mile into the heart of Wales,
But a shee-wolfe caught him by such a wyle
That hee must come to tell noe more tales.

XXXI

And now Yonge Andrew he is dead,
But he never was buryèd under molde;
And there as the wolfe devourèd him
There lyès all this great Earle’s gold.

FOOTNOTES:

[411] draught = picture.

[412] may = maid.

[413] fett = fetch.

[414] breaden = braided.

[415] billaments = habiliments.

_60. The Gay Goshawk_

‘O well’s me o’ my gay goss-hawk,
That he can speak and flee!
He’ll carry a letter to my love,
Bring back another to me.’--

‘O how can I your true-love ken,
Or how can I her know?
Whan frae her mouth I never heard couth[416],
Nor wi’ my eyes her saw.’--

III

‘O well sall ye my true-love ken,
As soon as you her see;
For, of a’ the flow’rs in fair England,
The fairest flow’r is she.

‘At even at my love’s bower-door
There grows a bowing birk,
An’ sit ye down and sing thereon,
As she gangs to the kirk.

‘An’ four-and-twenty ladies fair
Will wash and go to kirk,
But well sall ye my true-love ken,
For she wears gowd on her skirt.

‘An’ four-and-twenty gay ladies
Will to the mass repair,
But well sall ye my true-love ken,
For she wears gowd on her hair.’

VII

O even at that lady’s bower door
There grows a bowing birk,
An’ he set down and sang thereon,
As she gaed to the kirk.

VIII

‘O eet and drink, my marys[417] a’,
The wine flows you among,
Till I gang to my shot-window[418],
An’ hear yon bonny bird’s song.

‘Sing on, sing on, my bonny bird,
The song ye sang the streen[419],
For I ken by your sweet singin’
You’re frae my true-love sen.’

O first he sang a merry song,
An’ then he sang a grave,
An’ then he peck’d his feathers gray,
To her the letter gave.

‘Ha, there’s a letter frae your love,
He says he sent you three;
He canna wait your luve langer,
But for your sake he’ll dee.

XII

‘He bids you write a letter to him;
He says he’s sent you five;
He canna wait your luve langer,
Tho’ you’re the fairest alive.’--

XIII

‘Ye bid him bake his bridal-bread,
And brew his bridal-ale,
An’ I’ll meet him in fair Scotland
Lang, lang or it be stale.’

XIV

She’s doen her to her father dear
Fa’n low down on her knee:
‘A boon, a boon, my father dear
I pray you, grant it me!’--

‘Ask on, ask on, my daughter,
An’ granted it sall be;
Except ae squire in fair Scotland,
An’ him you sall never see.’--

XVI

‘The only boon, my father dear,
That I do crave of thee,
Is, gin I die in southin lands,
In Scotland to bury me.

XVII

‘An’ the firstin kirk that ye come till,
Ye gar the bells be rung,
An’ the nextin kirk that ye come till,
Ye gar the mass be sung.

XVIII

‘An’ the thirdin kirk that ye come till,
You deal gold for my sake,
An’ the fourthin kirk that ye come till,
You tarry there till night.’

XIX

She is doen her to her bigly[420] bow’r,
As fast as she could fare,
An’ she has tane a sleepy draught,
That she had mixt wi’ care.

She’s laid her down upon her bed,
An’ soon she’s fa’n asleep,
And soon o’er every tender limb
Cauld death began to creep.

XXI

Whan night was flown, an’ day was come,
Nae ane that did her see
But thought she was as surely dead
As ony lady cou’d be.

XXII

Her father an’ her brothers dear
Gar’d make to her a bier;
The tae half was o’ guid red gold,
The tither o’ silver clear.

XXIII

Her mither an’ her sisters fair
Gar’d work for her a sark;
The tae half was o’ cambrick fine,
The tither o’ needle wark.

XXIV

The firstin kirk that they came till,
They gar’d the bells be rung,
An’ the nextin kirk that they came till,
They gar’d the mass be sung.

XXV

The thirdin kirk that they came till,
They dealt gold for her sake,
An’ the fourthin kirk that they came till,
Lo, there they met her make[421]!

XXVI

‘Lay down, lay down the bigly bier,
Lat me the dead look on!’--
Wi’ cherry cheeks and ruby lips
She lay and smil’d on him.

XXVII

‘O ae sheave[422] o’ your bread, true love,
An’ ae glass o’ your wine!
For I hae fasted for your sake
These fully days is nine.

XXVIII

‘Gang hame, gang hame, my seven bold brothers,
Gang hame and sound your horn;
An’ ye may boast in southin lands
Your sister’s play’d you scorn!’

FOOTNOTES:

[416] couth = word.

[417] marys = maidens.

[418] shot-window here = bow-window.

[419] the streen = yestreen.

[420] bigly = commodious.

[421] make = mate, lover.

[422] sheave = slice.

_61. Willie’s Lyke-Wake_

‘Willie, Willie, what makes you sae sad?’
_And the sun shines over the valleys and a’_--
‘I lie sairly sick for the love of a maid.’
_Amang the blue flowers and the yellow and a’._

‘O Willie, my son, I’ll learn you a wile,
How this pretty fair maid ye may beguile.

III

‘Ye maun lie doun just as ye were dead,
And tak’ your windin’-sheet round your head.

‘Ye maun gie the bellman his bell-groat,
To ring your dead-bell at your lover’s yett[423].’

Willie lay doun just as he war dead,
And took his windin’-sheet round his head.

He gied the bellman his bell-groat
To ring his dead-bell at his lover’s yett.

VII

‘O wha is this that is dead, I hear?’--
‘O wha but Willie that lo’ed ye sae dear?’

VIII

She is hame to her father’s ain bour:
‘I’ll gang to yon lyke-wake[424] ae single hour.’--

‘Ye maun tak’ with you your brither John;
It’s not meet for maidens to venture alone.’--

‘I’ll not tak’ with me my brither John,
But I’ll gang along myself all alone.’

It’s when she cam’ to her true lovers yett,
She dealt the red gold round for his sak’.

XII

It’s when she came to her true lover’s bed
She lifted the sheet to look at the dead.

XIII

He’s ta’en her hand sae meek and sae sma’,
[And ca’d her his wife before them a’].

XIV

‘Fair maid, ye cam’ without horse or boy,
But I’ll send you home with a merry convoy.’

FOOTNOTES:

[423] yett = gate.

[424] lyke-wake = corpse-watching.

_62. Fair Margaret and Sweet William_

As it fell out on a long summer’s day,
Two lovers they sat on a hill:
They sat together that long summer’s day,
And could not talk their fill.

‘I see no harm by you, Margaret,
Nor you see none by me;
Before to-morrow eight o’clock
A rich wedding shall you see.’

III

Fair Margaret sat in her bower-window
Combing her yellow hair,
She saw Sweet William and his brown bride
Unto the church draw near.

Then down she laid her ivory comb,
And up she bound her hair;
She went out from her bower alive
But alive never more came there.

When day was gone, and night was come,
And all men fast asleep,
Came in the ghost of fair Margaret,
And stood at William’s feet.

‘How like ye the lady, Sweet William,
That lies in your arms asleep?
God give you joy of your gay bride-bed,
And me of my winding-sheet!’

VII

When night was gone, and day was come,
And all men waked from sleep,
His lady said to Sweet William,
‘My dear, I have cause to weep:

VIII

‘I dream’d a dream, Sweet William,
That seldom comes to good:
My bower was fill’d with wild-wood swine,
And our bride-bed full of blood.’

He callèd up his merry men all,
By one, by two, by three.
Saying, ‘I’ll away to Fair Margaret’s bower,
With the leave of my ladye.’

And when he came to Fair Margaret’s bower
He knockèd at the ring;
And who so ready as her seven brothers
To rise and let him in?

‘O, is she in the parlour?’ he said,
‘Or is she in the hall?
Or is she in the long chamber
Amongst her merry maids all?’--

XII

‘No, she’s not in the parlour,’ they said,
‘Nor she’s not in the hall:
But she is in the long chamber,
Laid out against the wall.’--

XIII

He turnèd up the covering-sheet,
And look’d upon the dead.
‘Methinks her lips are pale and wan,
She has lost her cherry red.’

XIV

With that bespake the seven brothers,
Making a piteous moan:
‘You may go kiss your jolly brown bride,
And let our sister alone.’--

‘If I do kiss my jolly brown bride,
I do but what is right;
For I made no vow to your sister dear,
By day nor yet by night.

XVI

‘Deal on, deal on, my merry men all,
Deal on your cake and wine!
For whatever is dealt at her funeral to-day
Shall be dealt to-morrow at mine.’

XVII

Fair Margaret died on the over night,
Sweet William died on the morrow:
Fair Margaret died for pure, pure love,
Sweet William died for sorrow.

XVIII

Go with your right to Newcastle,
And come with your left side home;
There you will see these two lovers
Lie printed on one stone.

_63. The Twa Brothers_

There were twa brethren in the North,
They went to school thegither;
The one unto the other said,
‘Will you try a warsle[425], brither?’

They warsled up, they warsled down,
Till Sir John fell to the ground,
And there was a knife in Sir Willie’s pouch
Gied him a deadly wound.

III

‘Tak’ aff, tak’ aff my holland sark,
Rive[426] it frae gare[427] to gare.
And stap it in my bleeding wound--
’Twill aiblins[428] bleed nae mair.’

He’s pu’it aff his holland sark,
Rave it frae gare to gare,
And stapt it in his bleeding wound--
But aye it bled the mair.

‘O tak’ now aff my green cleiding[429]
And row[430] me saftly in,
And carry me up to Chester kirk,
Whar the grass grows fair and green.

‘But what will ye say to your father dear
When ye gae home at e’en?’--
‘I’ll say ye’re lying at Chester kirk,
Whar the grass grows fair and green.’--

VII

‘O no, O no, when he speers[431] for me
Saying, “William, whar is John?”
Ye’ll say ye left me at Chester school
Leaving the school alone.’

VIII

He’s ta’en him up upo’ his back,
And borne him hence away,
And carried him to Chester kirk,
And laid him in the clay.

But when he sat in his father’s chair,
He grew baith pale and wan:
‘O what blude’s that upon your brow?
And whar is your brither John?’--

‘O John’s awa’ to Chester school,
A scholar he’ll return;
He bade me tell his father dear
About him no’ to mourn.

‘And it is the blude o’ my gude grey steed;
He wadna hunt for me.’--
‘O thy steed’s blude was ne’er so red,
Nor ne’er so dear to me!

XII

‘And whaten blude’s that upon your dirk?
Dear Willie, tell to me.’--
‘It is the blude o’ my ae brither
And dule and wae is me!’--

XIII

‘O what sall I say to your mither?
Dear Willie, tell to me.’--
‘I’ll saddle my steed and awa’ I’ll ride,
To dwell in some far countrie.’--

XIV

‘O when will ye come hame again?
Dear Willie, tell to me!’--
‘When the sun and moon dance on yon green:
And that will never be!’

FOOTNOTES:

[425] warsle = wrestle.

[426] rive = tear.

[427] gare = gore.

[428] aiblins = perhaps.

[429] cleiding = clothing.

[430] row = wrap.

[431] speers = asks.

_64. The Cruel Brother_

There were three ladies play’d at the ba’,
_With a hey ho! and a lily gay!_
By came a knight and he woo’d them a’
_As the primrose spreads so sweetly.
Sing Annet, and Marret, and fair Maisrie,
As the dew hangs i’ the wood, gay ladie!_

The first ane she was clad in red:
‘O lady fair, Will you be my bride?’

III

The midmost ane was clad in green:
‘O lady fair, will you be my queen?’

The youngest o’ them was clad in white:
‘O lady fair, be my heart’s delight!’--

‘Sir knight ere ye my favour win,
Ye maun get consent frae a’ my kin.

‘Ye maun go ask my father, the King:
Sae maun ye ask my mither, the Queen.

VII

‘Sae maun ye ask my sister Anne,
And dinna forget my brother John.’

VIII

He has sought her from her father, the King
And sae did he her mither, the Queen.

He has sought her from her sister Anne:
But he has forgot her brither John.

Now when the wedding day was come,
The knight would take his bonny bride home.

And many a lord and many a knight
Came to behold that ladie bright.

XII

And there was nae man that did her see
But wish’d himself bridegroom to be.

XIII

Her father led her down the stair,
And her mither dear she kiss’d her there.

XIV

Her sister Anne led her thro’ the close,
And her brother John set her on her horse.

She lean’d her o’er the saddle-bow,
To give him a kiss ere she did go.

XVI

He has ta’en a knife, baith lang and sharp,
And stabb’d that bonny bride to the heart.

XVII

She hadna ridden half thro’ the town,
Until her heart’s blude stain’d her gown.

XVIII

‘Ride saftly up,’ said the best young man;
‘I think our bride come hooly[432] on.’

XIX

‘Ride up, ride up,’ said the second man;
‘I think our bride looks pale and wan.’

Up then comes the gay bridegroom,
And straight unto the bride he came.

XXI

‘Does your side-saddle sit awry?
Or does your steed [go heavily]?’--

XXII

‘O lead me gently over yon stile,
For there would I sit and bleed awhile.

XXIII

‘O lead me gently up yon hill,
For there would I sit and make my will.’--

XXIV

‘O what will you leave to your father dear?’--
‘The milk-white steed that brought me here.’--

XXV

‘What will you leave to your mother dear?’--
‘My wedding shift that I do wear.’--

XXVI

‘What will you leave to your sister Anne?’--
‘My silken snood and my golden fan.’--

XXVII

‘What will you leave to your brother John?’--
_With a hay ho! and a lily gay!_
‘The gallows-tree to hang him on.’
_And the primrose spreads so sweetly.
Sing Annet, and Marret, and fair Maisrie,
And the dew hangs i’ the wood, gay ladie!_

FOOTNOTES:

[432] hooly = slowly, softly.

_65. Edward, Edward_

‘Why does your brand sae drop wi’ blude,
Edward, Edward?
Why does your brand sae drop wi’ blude,
And why sae sad gang ye, O?’--
‘O I hae kill’d my hawk sae gude,
Mither, mither;
O I hae kill’d my hawk sae gude,
And I had nae mair but he, O.’

‘Your hawk’s blude was never sae red,
Edward, Edward;
Your hawk’s blude was never sae red,
My dear son, I tell thee, O.’--
‘O I hae kill’d my red-roan steed,
Mither, mither;
O I hae kill’d my red-roan steed,
That erst was sae fair and free, O.’

III

‘Your steed was auld, and ye hae got mair,
Edward, Edward;
Your steed was auld, and ye hae got mair;
Some other dule ye dree[433], O.’--
‘O I hae kill’d my father dear,
Mither, mither;
O I hae kill’d my father dear,
Alas, and wae is me, O!’

‘And whatten penance will ye dree for that,
Edward, Edward?
Whatten penance will ye dree for that?
My dear son, now tell me, O.’--
‘I’ll set my feet in yonder boat,
Mither, mither;
I’ll set my feet in yonder boat,
And I’ll fare over the sea, O.’

‘And what will ye do wi’ your tow’rs and your ha’,
Edward, Edward?
And what will ye do wi’ your tow’rs and your ha’,
That were sae fair to see, O?’--
‘I’ll let them stand till they doun fa’,
Mither, mither;
I’ll let them stand till they doun fa’,
For here never mair maun I be, O.’

‘And what will ye leave to your bairns and your wife,
Edward, Edward?
And what will ye leave to your bairns and your wife,
When ye gang owre the sea, O?’--
‘The warld’s room: let them beg through life,
Mither, mither;
The warld’s room: let them beg through life;
For them never mair will I see, O.’

VII

‘And what will ye leave to your ain mither dear,
Edward, Edward?
And what will ye leave to your ain mither dear,
My dear son, now tell me, O?’--
‘The curse of hell frae me sall ye bear,
Mither, mither;
The curse of hell frae me sall ye bear:
Sic counsels ye gave to me, O!’

FOOTNOTES:

[433] dule ye dree = grief you suffer.

_66. Lord Randal_

‘O where hae ye been, Lord Randal, my son?
O where hae ye been, my handsome young man?’--
‘I hae been to the wild wood; mother, make my bed soon,
For I’m weary wi’ hunting, and fain wald lie down.’

‘Where gat ye your dinner, Lord Randal, my son?
Where gat ye your dinner, my handsome young man?’--
‘I dined wi’ my true-love; mother, make my bed soon,
For I’m weary wi’ hunting, and fain wald lie down.’

III

‘What gat ye to your dinner, Lord Randal, my son?
What gat ye to your dinner, my handsome young man?’--
‘I gat eels boil’d in broo’; mother, make my bed soon,
For I’m weary wi’ hunting, and fain wald lie down.’

‘What became of your bloodhounds, Lord Randal, my son?
What became of your bloodhounds, my handsome young man?’--
‘O they swell’d and they died; mother, make my bed soon,
For I’m weary wi’ hunting, and fain wald lie down.’

‘O I fear ye are poison’d, Lord Randal, my son!
O I fear ye are poison’d, my handsome young man!’--
‘O yes! I am poison’d; mother, make my bed soon,
For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wald lie down.’

_67. The Twa Corbies_

(SCOTTISH VERSION)

As I was walking all alane,
I heard twa corbies[434] making a mane:
The tane unto the tither did say,
‘Whar sall we gang and dine the day?’

‘--In behint yon auld fail[435] dyke
I wot there lies a new-slain knight;
And naebody kens that he lies there
But his hawk, his hound, and his lady fair.

III

‘His hound is to the hunting gane,
His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame,
His lady’s ta’en anither mate,
So we may mak’ our dinner sweet.

‘Ye’ll sit on his white hause[436]-bane,
And I’ll pike out his bonny blue e’en:
Wi’ ae lock o’ his gowden hair
We’ll theek[437] our nest when it grows bare.

‘Mony a one for him maks mane,
But nane sall ken whar he is gane:
O’er his white banes, when they are bare,
The wind sall blaw for evermair.’

FOOTNOTES:

[434] corbies = ravens.

[435] fail = turf.

[436] hause = neck.

[437] theek = thatch.

_68. The Three Ravens_

There were three ravens sat on a tree,
They were as black as they might be.

The one of them said to his make[438],
‘Where shall we our breakfast take?’

III

‘Down in yonder greenè field
There lies a knight slain under his shield;

‘His hounds they lie down at his feet,
So well do they their master keep;

‘His hawks they flie so eagerly,
There’s no fowl dare come him nigh.

‘Down there comes a fallow doe
As great with young as she might goe.

VII

‘She lift up his bloudy head
And kist his wounds that were so red.

VIII

‘She gat him up upon her back
And carried him to earthen lake.

‘She buried him before the prime,
She was dead herself ere evensong time.

‘God send every gentleman
Such hounds, such hawks, and such a leman!’

FOOTNOTES:

[438] make = mate.

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The Oxford Book of BalladsChapter XVI: Book II: 35. Hynd Horn (3)

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