Chapter XVII: Book III: 69. The Nut-Brown Maid (1)

I

_He._ _Be it right or wrong, these men among
On women do complain;
Affirming this, how that it is
A labour spent in vain
To love them wele; for never a dele[439]
They love a man again:
For let a man do what he can
Their favour to attain,
Yet if a new to them pursue,
Their first true lover than[440]
Laboureth for naught; for from her thought
He is a banished man._

II

_She._ _I say not nay, but that all day
It is both written and said
That woman’s faith is, as who saith
All utterly decay’d:
But nevertheless, right good witnèss
In this case might be laid
That they love true and continùe:
Record the Nut-brown Maid,
Which, when her love came her to prove,
To her to make his moan,
Would not depart; for in her heart
She loved but him alone._

III

_He._ _Then between us let us discuss
What was all the manere
Between them two: we will also
Tell all the pain in fere[441]
That she was in. Now I begin,
So that ye me answere:
Wherefore all ye that present be,
I pray you, give an ear.
I am the Knight. I come by night,
As secret as I can,
Saying,_ Alas! thus standeth the case,
I am a banished man.

IV

_She._ _And I your will for to fulfil
In this will not refuse;
Trusting to show, in wordès few,
That men have an ill use--
To their own shame--women to blame,
And causeless them accuse.
Therefore to you I answer now,
All women to excuse:_
Mine own heart dear, with you what cheer?
I pray you, tell anone;
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.

V

_He._ It standeth so: a deed is do
Whereof great harm shall grow:
My destiny is for to die
A shameful death, I trow;
Or else to flee. The t’ one must be.
None other way I know
But to withdraw as an outlàw,
And take me to my bow.
Wherefore adieu, mine own heart true!
None other rede I can[442]:
For I must to the green-wood go,
Alone, a banished man.

VI

_She._ O Lord, what is this worldis bliss,
That changeth as the moon!
My summer’s day in lusty May
Is darked before the noon.
I hear you say, farewell: Nay, nay,
We dèpart not so soon.
Why say ye so? whither will ye go?
Alas! what have ye done?
All my welfàre to sorrow and care
Should change, if ye were gone:
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.

VII

_He._ I can believe it shall you grieve,
And somewhat you distrain[443];
But afterward, your painès hard
Within a day or twain
Shall soon aslake; and ye shall take
Comfort to you again.
Why should ye ought? for, to make thought,
Your labour were in vain.
And thus I do; and pray you to,
As hartèly as I can:
For I must to the green-wood go,
Alone, a banished man.

VIII

_She._ Now, sith that ye have showed to me
The secret of your mind,
I shall be plain to you again,
Like as ye shall me find.
Sith it is so that ye will go,
I will not live behind.
Shall never be said the Nut-brown Maid
Was to her love unkind.
Make you readỳ, for so am I,
Although it were anone:
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.

IX

_He._ Yet I you rede to take good heed
What men will think and say:
Of young, of old, it shall be told
That ye be gone away
Your wanton will for to fulfil,
In green-wood you to play;
And that ye might for your delight
No longer make delay.
Rather than ye should thus for me
Be called an ill womàn
Yet would I to the green-wood go,
Alone, a banished man.

X

_She._ Though it be sung of old and young
That I should be to blame,
Theirs be the charge that speak so large
In hurting of my name:
For I will prove that faithful love
It is devoid of shame;
In your distress and heaviness
To part with[444] you the same:
And sure all tho[445] that do not so
True lovers are they none:
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.

XI

_He._ I counsel you, Remember how
It is no maiden’s law
Nothing to doubt, but to run out
To wood with an outlàw.
For ye must there in your hand bear
A bow readỳ to draw;
And as a thief thus must you live
Ever in dread and awe;
Whereby to you great harm might grow:
Yet had I liever than
That I had to the green-wood go,
Alone, a banished man.

XII

_She._ I think not nay but as ye say;
It is no maiden’s lore;
But love may make me for your sake,
As I have said before,
To come on foot, to hunt and shoot,
To get us meat and store;
For so that I your company
May have, I ask no more.
From which to part it maketh my heart
As cold as any stone;
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.

XIII

_He._ For an outlàw this is the law,
That men him take and bind:
Without pitie, hangèd to be,
And waver with the wind.
If I had need (as God forbede!)
What socours could ye find?
Forsooth, I trow, you and your bow
For fear would draw behind.
And no mervail; for little avail
Were in your counsel than:
Wherefore I’ll to the green-wood go,
Alone, a banished man.

XIV

_She._ Right well know ye that women be
But feeble for to fight;
No womanhede it is, indeed,
To be bold as a knight:
Yet in such fear if that ye were
With enemies day and night,
I would withstand, with bow in hand,
To grieve them as I might,
And you to save; as women have
From death men many one:
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.

XV

_He._ Yet take good hede; for ever I drede
That ye could not sustain
The thorny ways, the deep vallèys,
The snow, the frost, the rain,
The cold, the heat; for dry or wete,
We must lodge on the plain;
And, us above, no other roof
But a brake bush or twain:
Which soon should grieve you, I believe;
And ye would gladly than
That I had to the green-wood go,
Alone, a banished man.

XVI

_She._ Sith I have here been partynere
With you of joy and bliss,
I must alsò part of your woe
Endure, as reason is:
Yet I am sure of one pleasùre,
And shortly it is this--
That where ye be, me seemeth, pardé,
I could not fare amiss.
Without more speech I you beseech
That we were shortly gone;
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.

XVII

_He._ If ye go thyder, ye must consider,
When ye have lust to dine,
There shall no meat be for to gete,
Nether bere, ale, ne wine,
Ne shetès clean, to lie between,
Made of the thread and twine;
None other house, but leaves and boughs,
To cover your head and mine.
Lo, mine heart sweet, this ill diète
Should make you pale and wan:
Wherefore I’ll to the green-wood go,
Alone, a banished man.

XVIII

_She._ Among the wild deer such an archère,
As men say that ye be,
Ne may not fail of good vitayle
Where is so great plentè:
And water clear of the rivere
Shall be full sweet to me;
With which in hele[446] I shall right wele
Endure, as ye shall see;
And, or we go, a bed or two
I can provide anone;
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.

XIX

_He._ Lo yet, before, ye must do more,
If ye will go with me:
As, cut your hair up by your ear,
Your kirtle by the knee;
With bow in hand for to withstand
Your enemies, if need be:
And this same night, before daylight,
To woodward will I flee.
If that ye will all this fulfil,
Do it shortly as ye can:
Else will I to the green-wood go,
Alone, a banished man.

XX

_She._ I shall as now do more for you
Than ’longeth to womanhede;
To short my hair, a bow to bear,
To shoot in time of need.
O my sweet mother! before all other
For you I have most drede!
But now, adieu! I must ensue
Where fortune doth me lead.
All this make ye: Now let us flee;
The day cometh fast upon:
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.

XXI

_He._ Nay, nay, not so; ye shall not go,
And I shall tell you why--
Your appetite is to be light
Of love, I well espy:
For, right as ye have said to me,
In likewise hardily
Ye would answere whosoever it were,
In way of companỳ:
It is said of old, Soon hot, soon cold;
And so is a womàn:
Wherefore I to the wood will go,
Alone, a banished man.

XXII

_She._ If ye take heed, it is no need
Such words to say to me;
For oft ye prayed, and long assayed,
Or I loved you, pardè:
And though that I of ancestry
A baron’s daughter be,
Yet have you proved how I you loved,
A squire of low degree;
And ever shall, whatso befall,
To die therefore anone;
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.

XXIII

_He._ A baron’s child to be beguiled,
It were a cursèd deed!
To be felàw with an outlaw--
Almighty God forbede!
Yet better were the poor squyere
Alone to forest yede[447]
Than ye shall say another day
That by my cursèd rede
Ye were betrayed. Wherefore, good maid,
The best rede that I can,
Is, that I to the green-wood go,
Alone, a banished man.

XXIV

_She._ Whatever befall, I never shall
Of this thing be upbraid:
But if ye go, and leave me so,
Then have ye me betrayed.
Remember you wele, how that ye dele;
For if ye, as ye said,
Be so unkind to leave behind
Your love, the Nut-brown Maid,
Trust me trulỳ that I shall die
Soon after ye be gone:
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.

XXV

_He._ If that ye went, ye should repent;
For in the forest now
I have purveyed me of a maid
Whom I love more than you:
Another more fair than ever ye were
I dare it well avow;
And of you both each should be wroth
With other, as I trow:
It were mine ease to live in peace;
So will I, if I can:
Wherefore I to the wood will go,
Alone, a banished man.

XXVI

_She._ Though in the wood I understood
Ye had a paramour,
All this may nought remove my thought,
But that I will be your’:
And she shall find me soft and kind
And courteis every hour;
Glad to fulfil all that she will
Command me, to my power:
For had ye, lo, an hundred mo,
Yet would I be that one:
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.

XXVII

_He._ Mine own dear love, I see the prove
That ye be kind and true;
Of maid, of wife, in all my life,
The best that ever I knew.
Be merry and glad; be no more sad;
The case is changèd new;
For it were ruth that for your truth
Ye should have cause to rue.
Be not dismayed, whatsoever I said
To you when I began;
I will not to the green-wood go;
I am no banished man.

XXVIII

_She._ These tidings be more glad to me
Than to be made a queen,
If I were sure they should endure;
But it is often seen
When men will break promise they speak
The wordis on the splene[448].
Ye shape some wile me to beguile,
And steal from me, I ween:
Then were the case worse than it was,
And I more wo-begone:
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.

XXIX

_He._ Ye shall not nede further to drede:
I will not disparàge
You (God defend), sith you descend
Of so great a linàge.
Now understand: to Westmoreland,
Which is my heritage,
I will you bring; and with a ring,
By way of marriàge
I will you take, and lady make,
As shortly as I can:
Thus have you won an Earle’s son,
And not a banished man.

XXX

_Here may ye see that women be
In love meek, kind, and stable;
Let never man reprove them than,
Or call them variable;
But rather pray God that we may
To them be comfortable;
Which sometime proveth such as He loveth,
If they be charitable.
For sith men would that women should
Be meek to them each one;
Much more ought they to God obey,
And serve but Him alone._

FOOTNOTES:

[439] never a dele = never a bit.

[440] than = then.

[441] in fere = in company, together.

[442] rede I can = counsel I know.

[443] distrain = distress.

[444] part with = share with.

[445] tho = those.

[446] hele = health.

[447] yede = went.

[448] on the splene = in haste.

_70. Fause Foodrage_

I

King Easter has courted her for her lands,
King Wester for her fee,
King Honour for her comely face,
And for her fair bodie.

II

They had not been four months married,
As I have heard them tell,
Until the nobles of the land
Against them did rebel.

III

And they cast kevils[449] them amang,
And kevils them between;
And they cast kevils them amang,
Wha suld gae kill the king.

IV

O, some said yea, and some said nay,
Their words did not agree;
Till up and got him, Fause Foodrage,
And swore it suld be he.

V

When bells were rung, and mass was sung,
And a’ men bound to bed,
King Honour and his gay ladye
In a high chamber were laid.

VI

Then up and raise him, Fause Foodrage,
When a’ were fast asleep,
And slew the porter in his lodge,
That watch and ward did keep.

VII

O four-and-twenty silver keys
Hang hie upon a pin;
And aye, as ae door he did unlock,
He has fasten’d it him behin’.

VIII

Then up and raise him, King Honour,
Says--‘What means a’ this din?
Or what’s the matter, Fause Foodrage,
Or wha has loot you in?’--

IX

‘O ye my errand weel sall learn,
Before that I depart.’--
Then drew a knife, baith lang and sharp,
And pierced him to the heart.

X

Then up and got the Queen hersell,
And fell low down on her knee,
‘O spare my life, now, Fause Foodrage!
For I never injured thee.

XI

‘O spare my life, now, Fause Foodrage!
Until I lighter be!
And see gin it be lad or lass,
King Honour has left me wi’.’--

XII

‘O gin it be a lass,’ he says,
‘Weel nursèd it sall be;
But gin it be a lad bairn,
He sall be hangèd hie.

XIII

‘I winna spare for his tender age,
Nor yet for his hie hie kin;
But soon as e’er he born is,
He sall mount the gallows pin.’--

XIV

O four-and-twenty valiant knights
Were set the Queen to guard;
And four stood aye at her bour door,
To keep both watch and ward.

XV

But when the time drew near an end,
That she suld lighter be,
She cast about to find a wile,
To set her body free.

XVI

O she has birled these merry young men
With the ale but and the wine,
Until they were a’ deadly drunk
As any wild-wood swine.

XVII

‘O narrow, narrow is this window,
And big, big am I grown!’--
Yet through the might of Our Ladye,
Out at it she is gone.

XVIII

She wander’d up, she wander’d down,
She wander’d out and in,
And, at last, into the very swine’s stythe
The Queen brought forth a son.

XIX

Then they cast kevils them amang,
Which suld gae seek the Queen;
And the kevil fell upon Wise William,
And he sent his wife for him.

XX

O when she saw Wise William’s wife,
The Queen fell on her knee:
‘Win up, win up, madam!’ she says:
‘What needs this courtesie?’--

XXI

‘O out o’ this I winna rise,
Till a boon ye grant to me;
To change your lass for this lad bairn,
King Honour left me wi’.

XXII

‘And ye maun learn my gay goss-hawk
Right weel to breast a steed;
And I sall learn your turtle dow[450]
As weel to write and read.

XXIII

‘And ye maun learn my gay goss-hawk
To wield both bow and brand;
And I sall learn your turtle dow
To lay gowd[451] wi’ her hand.

XXIV

‘At kirk and market when we meet,
We’ll dare make nae avowe,
But--“Dame, how does my gay goss-hawk?”
“Madame, how does my dow?”’

XXV

When days were gane, and years came on,
Wise William he thought lang;
And he has ta’en King Honour’s son
A-hunting for to gang.

XXVI

It sae fell out, at this huntìng,
Upon a simmer’s day,
That they came by a fair castell,
Stood on a sunny brae.

XXVII

‘O dinna ye see that bonny castell,
Wi’ halls and towers sae fair?
Gin ilka man had back his ain,
Of it you suld be heir.’--

XXVIII

‘How I suld be heir of that castell,
In sooth, I canna see;
For it belangs to Fause Foodrage,
And he is na kin to me.’--

XXIX

‘O gin ye suld kill him, Fause Foodrage,
You would do but what was right;
For I wot he kill’d your father dear,
Or ever ye saw the light.

XXX

‘And gin ye suld kill him, Fause Foodrage,
There is no man durst you blame;
For he keeps your mother a prisoner,
And she darna take ye hame.’--

XXXI

The boy stared wild like a gray goss-hawk;
Says--‘What may a’ this mean?’--
‘My boy, ye are King Honour’s son,
And your mother’s our lawful Queen.’--

XXXII

‘O gin I be King Honour’s son,
By Our Ladye I swear,
This night I will that traitor slay,
And relieve my mother dear!’--

XXXIII

He has set his bent bow to his breast
And leaped the castell wa’;
And soon he has seized on Fause Foodrage,
Wha loud for help ’gan ca’.

XXXIV

‘O haud your tongue, now, Fause Foodrage,
Frae me ye shanna flee!’--
Syne pierced him through the fause, fause heart,
And set his mother free.

XXXV

And he has rewarded Wise William
Wi’ the best half of his land;
And sae has he the turtle dow,
Wi’ the truth o’ his right hand.

FOOTNOTES:

[449] kevils = lots.

[450] dow = dove.

[451] lay gowd = embroider in gold.

_71. The Fair Flower of Northumberland_

I

It was a knight in Scotland born,
_Follow, my love, come over the strand_--
Was taken prisoner and left forlorn,
Even by the good Earl of Northumberland.

II

Then was he cast in prison strong,
_Follow, my love, come over the strand_--
Where he could not walk nor lie along,
Even by the good Earl of Northumberland.

III

And as in sorrow thus he lay,
_Follow, my love, come over the strand_--
The Earl’s sweet daughter walk’d that way,
And she the faire flower of Northumberland.

IV

And loud to her this knight did crie,
_Follow, my love, come over the strand_--
The salt teares standing in his eye,
And she the faire flower of Northumberland.

V

‘Faire lady,’ he said, ‘take pity on me,
_Follow, my love, come over the strand_--
And let me not in prison dee[452],
And you the faire flower of Northumberland.’--

VI

‘Faire sir, how should I take pity on thee?
_Follow, my love, come over the strand_--
Thou being a foe to our countrie,
And I the faire flower of Northumberland.’

VII

‘Faire lady, I am no foe,’ he said,
_Follow, my love, come over the strand_--
‘Through thy sweet love here was I stay’d,
For thee, the faire flower of Northumberland.’--

VIII

‘Why shouldst thou come here for love of me,
_Follow, my love, come over the strand_--
Having wife and children in thy countrie?
--And I the faire flower of Northumberland.’--

IX

‘I swear by the blessèd Trinitie,
_Follow, my love, come over the strand_--
I have no wife nor children, I,
But I’ll make you my ladye in faire Scotland.

X

‘I swear by Him that was crown’d with thorn,
_Follow, my love, come over the strand_--
That I never had wife since the day I was born,
But I live a free lord in faire Scotland.’--

XI

She stole from her father’s pillow the key,
_Follow, my love, come over the strand_--
And soon out of prison she’s set him free
To wend with her into faire Scotland.

XII

Likewise much gold she got by sleight,
_Follow, my love, come over the strand_--
And all to help this forlorne knight
To wend from her father to faire Scotland.

XIII

She’s led him down to her father’s stable,
_Follow, my love, come over the strand_--
And she’s stolen two steeds both wight[453] and able,
To carry them on to faire Scotland.

XIV

They rode till they came to a water clear,
_Follow, my love, come over the strand_--
‘Good Sir, how should I follow you here,
And I the faire flower of Northumberland?

XV

‘The water is rough and wonderful steepe,
_Follow, my love, come over the strand_--
And on my saddle I shall not keepe,
And I the faire flower of Northumberland.’--

XVI

‘Fear not the ford, faire lady,’ quoth he,
_Follow, my love, come over the strand_--
‘For long I cannot stay for thee,
And thou the faire flower of Northumberland.’

XVII

From top to toe all wet was she:
_Follow, my love, come over the strand_--
‘This have I done for love of thee,
And I the faire flower of Northumberland.’

XVIII

They rode till they came to a Scottish moss,
_Follow, my love, come over the strand_--
He bade her light off from her father’s horse,
Says, ‘Go, get you back to Northumberland.

XIX

‘For I have a wife and children five,
_Follow, my love, come over the strand_--
In Edenborrow they be alive,
So get thee home to Northumberland.’--

XX

‘Have pity on me as I had it on thee!
_Follow, my love, come over the strand_--
A cook in your kitchen I will be,
Even I, the faire flower of Northumberland.

XXI

‘Or take me by the body so meek,
_Follow, my love, come over the strand_--
And throw me in the water so deep,
For I darena go back to Northumberland.’

XXII

He turn’d him around and he thought of a plan,
_Follow, my love, come over the strand_--
He bought an old horse and he hired an old man
To carry her back to Northumberland.

XXIII

When she came thro’ her father’s ha’,
_Follow, my love, come over the strand_--
She louted[454] her low amongst them a’,
She was the faire flower of Northumberland.

XXIV

Down came her father, he saw her and smiled,
_Follow, my love, come over the strand_--
‘You arena the first the false Scots have beguiled,
And ye’re aye welcome back to Northumberland!’

FOOTNOTES:

[452] dee = die.

[453] wight = sturdy.

[454] louted = bowed.

_72. Young John_

I

A fair maid sat in her bower-door,
Wringing her lily hands,
And by it came a sprightly youth,
Fast tripping o’er the strands.

II

‘Where gang ye, young John,’ she says,
‘Sae early in the day?
It gars me think, by your fast trip,
Your journey’s far away.’

III

He turn’d about wi’ a surly look,
And said, ‘What’s that to thee?
I’m gaen to see a lovely maid,
Mair fairer far than ye.’--

IV

‘Now hae ye play’d me this, fause love,
In simmer, ’mid the flowers?
I shall repay ye back again,
In winter, ’mid the showers.

V

‘But again, dear love, and again, dear love,
Will ye not turn again?
For as ye look to other women,
Sall I to other men.’--

VI

‘Go make your choice of whom you please,
For I my choice will have;
I’ve chosen a maid more fair than thee,
I never will deceive.’

VII

She’s kilted up her claithing fine,
And after him gaed she;
But aye he said, ‘Ye’ll turn again,
Nae farther gang wi’ me.’--

VIII

‘But again, dear love, and again, dear love,
Will ye ne’er love me again?
Alas, for loving you sae well,
And you nae me again!’

IX

The firstan town that they cam’ till,
He bought her brooch and ring;
And aye he bade her turn again,
And nae farther gang wi’ him.

X

‘But again, dear love, and again, dear love,
Will ye ne’er love me again?
Alas, for loving you sae well,
And you nae me again!’

XI

The nextan town that they cam’ till,
He bought her muff and gloves;
But aye he bade her turn again,
And choose some other loves.

XII

‘But again, dear love, and again, dear love,
Will ye ne’er love me again?
Alas, for loving you sae well,
And you nae me again!’

XIII

The nextan town that they cam’ till,
His heart it grew mair fain,
And he was as deep in love wi’ her
As she was ower again.

XIV

The nextan town that they cam’ till,
He bought her wedding gown,
And made her lady of ha’s and bowers,
Into sweet Berwick town.

_73. Lady Maisry_

I

The young lords o’ the north country
Have all a-wooing gone,
To win the love of Lady Maisry,
But o’ them she wou’d hae none.

II

O they hae courted Lady Maisry
Wi’ a’ kin kind of things;
An’ they hae sought her Lady Maisry
Wi’ brooches an’ wi’ rings.

III

An’ they ha’ sought her Lady Maisry
Frae father and frae mother;
An’ they ha’ sought her Lady Maisry
Frae sister an’ frae brother.

IV

An’ they ha’ follow’d her Lady Maisry
Thro’ chamber an’ thro’ ha’;
But a’ that they cou’d say to her,
Her answer still was Na.

V

‘O haud your tongues, young men,’ she says,
‘An’ think nae mair o’ me;
For I’ve gi’en my love to an English lord,
An’ think nae mair o’ me.’

VI

Her father’s kitchy-boy heard that,
An ill death may he dee!
An’ he is on to her brother,
As fast as gang cou’d he.

VII

‘O is my father an’ my mother well,
But an’ my brothers three?
Gin my sister Lady Maisry be well,
There’s naething can ail me.’--

VIII

‘Your father an’ your mother is well,
But an’ your brothers three;
Your sister Lady Maisry’s well,
So big wi’ bairn gangs she.’

IX

‘Gin this be true you tell to me,
My malison light on thee!
But gin it be a lie you tell,
You sal be hangit hie.’

X

He’s done him to his sister’s bow’r,
Wi’ meikle doole an’ care;
An’ there he saw her Lady Maisry
Kaiming her yellow hair.

XI

‘O wha is aught[455] that bairn,’ he says,
‘That ye sae big are wi’?
And gin ye winna own the truth,
This moment ye sall dee.’

XII

She turn’d her right and roun’ about,
An’ the kame fell frae her han’;
A trembling seiz’d her fair body,
An’ her rosy cheek grew wan.

XIII

‘O pardon me, my brother dear,
An’ the truth I’ll tell to thee;
My bairn it is to Lord William,
An’ he is betroth’d to me.’--

XIV

‘O cou’d na ye gotten dukes, or lords,
Intill your ain country,
That ye draw up wi’ an English dog,
To bring this shame on me?

XV

‘But ye maun gi’ up the English lord,
Whan your young babe is born;
For, gin you keep by him an hour langer,
Your life sall be forlorn[456].’--

XVI

‘I will gi’ up this English blood,
Till my young babe be born;
But the never a day nor hour langer,
Tho’ my life should be forlorn.’--

XVII

‘O whare is a’ my merry young men,
Whom I gi’ meat and fee,
To pu’ the thistle and the thorn,
To burn this woman wi’?’--

XVIII

She turn’d her head on her left shoulder,
Saw her girdle hang on a tree;
‘O God bless them wha gave me that,
They’ll never give more to me.

XIX

‘O whare will I get a bonny boy,
To help me in my need,
To rin wi’ haste to Lord William,
And bid him come wi’ speed?’--

XX

O out it spake a bonny boy,
Stood by her brother’s side:
‘O I would run your errand, lady,
O’er a’ the world sae wide.

XXI

‘Aft have I run your errands, lady,
Whan blawn baith win’ and weet;
But now I’ll rin your errand, lady,
Wi’ saut tears on my cheek.’

XXII

O whan he came to broken briggs,
He bent his bow and swam,
An’ whan he came to the green grass growin’
He slack’d his shoone and ran.

XXIII

O whan he came to Lord William’s gates,
He baed[457] na to chap[458] or ca’,
But set his bent bow till his breast,
An’ lightly lap’ the wa’;
An’, or the porter was at the gate,
The boy was i’ the ha’.

XXIV

‘O is my biggins[459] broken, boy?
Or is my towers won?
Or is my lady lighter yet,
Of a dear daughter or son?’--

XXV

‘Your biggin is na broken, sir,
Nor is your towers won;
But the fairest lady in a’ the land
For you this day maun burn.’--

XXVI

‘O saddle me the black, the black,
Or saddle me the brown;
O saddle me the swiftest steed
That ever rade frae a town!’

XXVII

Or he was near a mile awa’,
She heard his wild horse sneeze:
‘Mend up the fire, my false brother,
It’s na come to my knees.’

XXVIII

O whan he lighted at the gate,
She heard his bridle ring;
‘Mend up the fire, my false brother,
It’s far yet frae my chin.

XXIX

‘Mend up the fire to me, brother,
Mend up the fire to me;
For I see him comin’ hard an’ fast,
Will soon mend it up to thee.

XXX

‘O gin my hands had been loose, Willy,
Sae hard as they are boun’,
I would have turn’d me frae the gleed[460],
And casten out your young son.’--

XXXI

‘O I’ll gar burn for you, Maisry,
Your father an’ your mother;
An’ I’ll gar burn for you, Maisry,
Your sister an’ your brother.

XXXII

‘An’ I’ll gar burn for you, Maisry,
The chief of a’ your kin;
An’ the last bonfire that I come to,
Mysel’ I will cast in.’

FOOTNOTES:

[455] aught = owed.

[456] forlorn = lost to you.

[457] baed = abode, tarried.

[458] chap = knock.

[459] biggins = buildings.

[460] gleed = glowing fire, embers.

_74. Bonny Bee Ho’m_

I

By Arthur’s Dale as late I went
I heard a heavy moan;
I heard a ladie lamenting sair,
And ay she cried ‘Ohone!

II

‘Ohone, alas! what shall I do,
Tormented night and day!
I never loved a love but ane,
And now he’s gone away.

III

‘But I will do for my true-love
What ladies wou’d think sair;
For seven year shall come and go
Ere a kaim[461] gang in my hair.

IV

‘There shall neither a shoe gang on my foot,
Nor a kaim gang in my hair,
Nor e’er a coal nor candle-light
Shine in my bower nae mair.’

V

She thought her love had been on the sea,
Fast sailing to Bee Ho’m;
But he was in a quiet cham’er[462],
Hearing his ladie’s moan.

VI

‘Be husht, be husht, my ladie dear,
I pray thee mourn not so;
For I am deep sworn on a book
To Bee Ho’m for to go.’

VII

She has gien him a chain of the beaten gowd,
And a ring with a ruby stone:
‘As lang as this chain your body binds,
Your blude can never be drawn.

VIII

‘But gin this ring shou’d fade or fail,
Or the stone shou’d change its hue,
Be sure your love is dead and gone,
Or she has proved untrue.’

IX

He had no been at Bonny Bee Ho’m
A twelve month and a day,
Till, looking on his gay gowd ring,
The stone grew dark and gray.

X

‘O ye take my riches to Bee Ho’m,
And deal them presentlie,
To the young that canna, the auld that maunna,
And the blind that does not see.

XI

‘Fight on, fight on, my merry men all!
With you I’ll fight no more;
But I will gang to some holy place
And pray to the King of Glore[463].’

FOOTNOTES:

[461] kaim = comb.

[462] cham’er = chamber.

[463] Glore = Glory.

_75. Sir Patrick Spens_

I. _The Sailing._

I

The king sits in Dunfermline town
Drinking the blude-red wine;
‘O whare will I get a skeely[464] skipper
To sail this new ship o’ mine?’

II

O up and spak an eldern knight,
Sat at the king’s right knee:
‘Sir Patrick Spens is the best sailor
That ever sail’d the sea.’

III

Our king has written a braid letter,
And seal’d it with his hand,
And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens,
Was walking on the strand.

IV

‘To Noroway, to Noroway,
To Noroway o’er the faem;
The king’s daughter o’ Noroway,
’Tis thou must bring her hame.’

V

The first word that Sir Patrick read
So loud, loud laugh’d he;
The neist word that Sir Patrick read
The tear blinded his e’e.

VI

‘O wha is this has done this deed
And tauld the king o’ me,
To send us out, at this time o’ year,
To sail upon the sea?

VII

‘Be it wind, be it weet, be it hail, be it sleet,
Our ship must sail the faem;
The king’s daughter o’ Noroway,
’Tis we must fetch her hame.’

VIII

They hoysed their sails on Monenday morn
Wi’ a’ the speed they may;
They hae landed in Noroway
Upon a Wodensday.

_II. The Return._

IX

‘Mak ready, mak ready, my merry men a’!
Our gude ship sails the morn.’--
‘Now ever alack, my master dear,
I fear a deadly storm.

X

‘I saw the new moon late yestreen
Wi’ the auld moon in her arm;
And if we gang to sea, master,
I fear we’ll come to harm.’

XI

They hadna sail’d a league, a league,
A league but barely three,
When the lift[465] grew dark, and the wind blew loud,
And gurly grew the sea.

XII

The ankers brak, and the topmast lap[466],
It was sic a deadly storm:
And the waves cam owre the broken ship
Till a’ her sides were torn.

XIII

‘O where will I get a gude sailor
To tak’ my helm in hand,
Till I get up to the tall topmast
To see if I can spy land?’--

XIV

‘O here am I, a sailor gude,
To tak’ the helm in hand,
Till you go up to the tall topmast,
But I fear you’ll ne’er spy land.’

XV

He hadna gane a step, a step,
A step but barely ane,
When a bolt flew out of our goodly ship,
And the saut sea it came in.

XVI

‘Go fetch a web o’ the silken claith,
Another o’ the twine,
And wap[467] them into our ship’s side,
And let nae the sea come in.’

XVII

They fetch’d a web o’ the silken claith,
Another o’ the twine,
And they wapp’d them round that gude ship’s side,
But still the sea came in.

XVIII

O laith, laith were our gude Scots lords
To wet their cork-heel’d shoon;
But lang or a’ the play was play’d
They wat their hats aboon.

XIX

And mony was the feather bed
That flatter’d[468] on the faem;
And mony was the gude lord’s son
That never mair cam hame.

XX

O lang, lang may the ladies sit,
Wi’ their fans into their hand,
Before they see Sir Patrick Spens
Come sailing to the strand!

XXI

And lang, lang may the maidens sit
Wi’ their gowd kames[469] in their hair,
A-waiting for their ain dear loves!
For them they’ll see nae mair.

XXII

Half-owre, half-owre to Aberdour,
’Tis fifty fathoms deep;
And there lies gude Sir Patrick Spens,
Wi’ the Scots lords at his feet!

FOOTNOTES:

[464] skeely = skilful.

[465] lift = sky.

[466] lap = sprang.

[467] wap = wrap.

[468] flatter’d = tossed afloat.

[469] kames = combs.

_76. The Lord of Lorn_

I

It was the worthy Lord of Lorn,
He was a lord of high degree;
And he has set his one young son
To school, to learn civility.

II

He learn’d more learning in one day
Than other children did in three;
And then bespake the schoolmaster,
Unto the heir of Lorn said he:

III

‘In faith thou art the honestest boy
That ere I blinkt on with mine e’e;
I think thou be some easterling born,
The Holy Ghost it is with thee.’

IV

He said he was no easterling born,
The child thus answer’d courteouslye:
‘My father he is the Lord of Lorn,
And I his one young son, perdie.’

V

The schoolmaster turn’d round about,
His angry mind he could not ’swage;
He marvell’d the child could speak so wise,
He being of so tender age.

VI

He girt the saddle to the steed,
A golden bridle done him upon;
He took his leave of his schoolfellows,
And home this Child of Lorn has gone.

VII

And when he came to his father dear
He kneelèd down upon his knee:
‘God’s blessing, father, I would ask,
If Christ would grant you to give it me.’--

VIII

‘Now God thee bless, my son, my heir,
His servant in heaven that thou may be!
What tidings hast thou brought me, child?
Thou art comen home so hastilye.’--

IX

‘Good tidings, father, I have you brought,
Good tidings I hope it is to thee;
There’s never a book in all Scotland
But I can read it truëlye.’

X

A joyèd man his father was
All in the place where he did stand:
‘My son, thou shalt go into France,
To learn the speeches of ilka land.’

XI

‘Who shall go with him?’ said his lady;
‘Husband, we have no more but he.’--
‘Madam,’ he saith, ‘my hend[470] steward,
For he hath been true to you and me.’

XII

She call’d the steward to an account,
A thousand pound she gave him anon;
Says, ‘Steward, I’ll give thee as mickle more
If thou be as good to my one son.’--

XIII

‘If I be false unto my young lord,
Then God be the like to me indeed!’
--So now to France they both are gone,
And the God [of Heaven] be their good speed!

XIV

Over the sea into France land
They had not been three weeks to an end,
But meat and drink the child got none,
Nor penny of money in purse to spend.

XV

The child ran to a river’s side;
He was fain to drink the water thin;
And after follow’d the false steward
To drown the bonny boy therein.

XVI

‘But nay, by Mary!’ said the child,
He askèd mercy pitifullye;
‘Good Steward, let me have my life,
And all I have I will give to thee!’

XVII

Mercy to him the steward did take,
And pull’d the child out o’er the brim
But, ever alack, the more pitye!
He took his clothing even from him.

XVIII

Says, ‘Do thou me off that velvet gown,
The crimson hose beneath thy knee,
And do me off thy cordinant[471] shoon
That are buckled with the gold so free.

XIX

‘Do thou me off thy satin doublèt,
Thy shirtband wrought wi’ glisterin’ gold,
And do me off thy golden chain
About thy neck with many a fold.

XX

‘And do me off thy velvet hat,
With feather in it that is so fine;
And all unto thy silken shirt,
That’s work’d with many a golden seam.’

XXI

But when the child was naked stript,
With skin as white as the lily flow’r,
He might, for his body and his bewtie,
Have been a princess’ paramour.

XXII

He put him in an old kelter[472] coat,
And hose of the same above the knee,
And he bade him go to a shepherd’s house,
To tend sheep on a lonely lee.

XXIII

The child said, ‘What shall be my name?
Prithee, good Steward, tell to me.’--
‘Thy name shall be Poor Disaware,
To tend sheep on a lonely lee.’

XXIV

The child came to the shepherd’s house--
O Lord! he weepèd pitifullye--
Says, ‘Do you not want a servant-boy,
To tend your sheep on a lonely lee?’

XXV

‘I have no child,’ the shepherd said,
‘My boy, thou’st tarry and dwell with me;
My living, my house, but and my goods,
I’ll make thee heir of them all, perdie.’

XXVI

And then bespake the shepherd’s wife
Unto the child so tenderlye:
‘Thou must take the sheep and go to the field,
And tend them upon the lonely lee.’

XXVII

Now let us leave talk of the child
That is tending sheep on the lonely lee,
And we’ll talk more of the false steward,
Of him and of his treacherye.

XXVIII

He bought himself a suit of apparel
That any lord might a-seem’d to worn;
He went a-wooing to the Duke’s daughter,
And call’d himself the Lord of Lorn.

XXIX

The Duke he welcomed the [brisk] young lord
With three baked stags and the Rhenish wine:
If he had wist him the false steward,
With the devil he’d have bade him dine.

XXX

But when they were at supper set
With dainty delicates that was there,
The Duke said, ‘If thou’lt wed my daughter
I’ll give thee a thousand pound a year.’

XXXI

Then hand in hand the steward her took,
And plight that lady his troth alone,
That she should be his married wife,
And he would make her the Lady of Lorn.

XXXII

The lady would see the roebuck run
Up hills and dales and the forest free,
When she was ’ware of a shepherd’s boy
Was tending sheep on a lonely lee.

XXXIII

And ever he sigh’d and made his moan
[Unto himself] most pitifullye,
‘My father is the Lord of Lorn,
And knows not what’s become of me!’

XXXIV

O then bespake the lady gay
And to her maid she spake anon,
‘Go fetch me hither yon shepherd’s boy:
I’ll know why he doth make his moan.’

XXXV

But when he came to that lady fair
He fell down low upon his knee;
He was [of birth and] so brought up
He needed not to learn courtesye.

XXXVI

‘What is thy name? Where wast thou born?
For whose sake makest thou this moan?’--
‘I am Poor Disaware, in Scotland born,
And I mourn one dead these years agone.’--

XXXVII

‘Tell me [of Scotland], thou bonny child,
Tell me the truth and do not lee:
Knowest thou there the young Lord of Lorn?
He is come into France a-wooing of me.’--

XXXVIII

‘Yes, that I do, madam,’ he said,
‘I know that lord, yea, verilye;
The Lord of Lorn is a worthy lord,
If he were at home in his own countrye.’--

XXXIX

‘Wilt leave thy sheep, thou bonny child,
And come in service unto me?’--
‘[I thank you, madam]; yea, forsooth,
And at your bidding I will be.’

XL

When the steward look’d upon the child
He ’gan bewrail[473] him villainouslye:
‘Where wast thou born, thou vagabone?
Thou art a thief, I will prove thee.’

XLI

‘Ha’ done! ha’ done!’ said the lady gay,
‘Peace, Lord of Lorn, I do pray thee!
Without you bear him more good will,
No favour will you get of me.’

XLII

O then bespake the false steward,
‘Believe me or no, I tell to thee,
At Aberdonie, beyond the seas,
His father robbèd thousands three.’

XLIII

But then bespake the Duke of France
(The child was pleasant to his e’e),
Says, ‘Boy, if thou love horses well,
My groom of stables thou shalt be.’

XLIV

The child applied his office so well
Till that twelve months drew to an end;
He was so courteous and so true
That every man became his friend.

XLV

He led a gelding forth one morning,
To water him at the water so free--
The gelding up, and with his head
He hit the child above the e’e.

XLVI

‘Woe worth thee, gelding!’ said the child,
‘Woe worth the mare that foalèd thee!
Thou little knowest the Lord of Lorn:
Thou’st stricken a lord of high degree.’

XLVII

The lady was in her garden green,
And heard the child that made this moan:
All weeping [straight] she ran to him
And left her maidens all alone.

XLVIII

‘Sing on thy song, thou stable groom,
I will release thee of thy pain.’--
‘Nay, lady, I have made an oath;
I dare not tell my tale again.’--

XLIX

‘Sing on thy song, then, to thy gelding,
And so thy oath shall savèd be.’--
But when he told his horse the tale,
O the lady wept full tenderlye.

L

She sent in for her father the Duke:
‘O sick I am, and like to dee!
Put off my wedding, father,’ she said,
‘For the love of God, these monthës three.’

LI

The lady she did write a letter
Full speedily with her own hand;
She has sent it to the Lord of Lorn
Wheras he dwelt in fair Scotland.

LII

When the Lord of Lorn had read the letter
His lady wept, Lord! bitterlye;
‘Peace, Lady of Lorn, for Christ his love!
And wroken[474] upon him I will be.’

LIII

The old lord call’d up his merry men,
And all that he gave cloth and fee,
With seven lords to ride beside him,
And into the land of France rides he.

LIV

The wind was good, and they did sail
Five hundred men into France land,
Till they were ’ware of the Heir of Lorn,
Stood with a porter’s staff in ’s hand.

LV

The lords then cast their hats into air,
The serving-men fell on their knee.
‘What fools be yonder,’ said the steward,
‘That makes the porter courtesye?’

LVI

‘Thou’rt a false thief,’ said the Lord of Lorn,
‘[This child, thy master] to betray!’
And they set the castle round about,
A swallow could not have flown away.

LVII

And when they had taken the false steward,
By the law of France all hastilye
A quest of lords there chosen was
That judged this traitor he must dee.

LVIII

First they took him and hang’d him half,
And then they lat him down anon,
And quarter’d and put him in boiling lead,
And there he was sodden, breast and bone.

LIX

O then bespake the Lord of Lorn,
With many other lordës mo,
‘Sir Duke, if you be as willing as we,
We’ll have a marriage before we go.’

LX

But then bespake the Duke of France,
Unto the Child of Lorn right there:
Says, ‘Heir of Lorn, if thou’lt marry my daughter,
I’ll mend thy living a thousand a year.’

LXI

But then bespake that Child of Lorn,
And answer’d the Duke right merrilye:
‘I had rather have her with a ring of gold
Than all the gold you can proffer to me.’

FOOTNOTES:

[470] hend = courteous.

[471] cordinant = of Cordovan leather.

[472] kelter = of undyed wool.

[473] bewrail = rail at.

[474] wroken = revenged.

_77. Edom o’ Gordon_

I

It fell about the Martinmas,
When the wind blew shrill and cauld,
Said Edom o’ Gordon to his men,
‘We maun draw to a hauld[475].

II

‘And what a hauld sall we draw to,
My merry men and me?
We will gae to the house o’ the Rodes,
To see that fair ladye.’

III

The lady stood on her castle wa’,
Beheld baith dale and down;
There she was ’ware of a host of men
Cam’ riding towards the town[476].

IV

‘O see ye not, my merry men a’,
O see ye not what I see?
Methinks I see a host of men;
I marvel wha they be.’

V

She ween’d it had been her lovely lord,
As he cam riding hame;
It was the traitor, Edom o’ Gordon,
Wha reck’d nae sin nor shame.

VI

She had nae sooner buskit[477] hersell,
And putten on her gown,
But Edom o’ Gordon an’ his men
Were round about the town.

VII

They had nae sooner supper set,
Nae sooner said the grace,
But Edom o’ Gordon an’ his men
Were lighted about the place.

VIII

The lady ran up to her tower-head,
Sae fast as she could hie,
To see if by her fair speeches
She could wi’ him agree.

IX

‘Come doun to me, ye lady gay,
Come doun, come doun to me;
This night sall ye lig within mine arms,
To-morrow my bride sall be.’--

X

‘I winna come down, ye fals Gordon,
I winna come down to thee;
I winna forsake my ain dear lord,
That is sae far frae me.’--

XI

‘Gie owre your house, ye lady fair,
Gie owre your house to me;
Or I sall brenn yoursel’ therein,
But and your babies three.’--

XII

‘I winna gie owre, ye fals Gordon,
To nae sic traitor as yee;
And if ye brenn my ain dear babes,
My lord sall make ye dree[478].

XIII

‘Now reach my pistol, Glaud, my man,
And charge ye weel my gun;
For, but an I pierce that bluidy butcher,
My babes, we been undone!’

XIV

She stood upon her castle wa’,
And let twa bullets flee:
She miss’d that bluidy butcher’s heart,
And only razed his knee.

XV

‘Set fire to the house!’ quo’ fals Gordon,
All wud[479] wi’ dule and ire:
‘Fals lady, ye sall rue this deid
As ye brenn in the fire!’--

XVI

‘Wae worth, wae worth ye, Jock, my man!
I paid ye weel your fee;
Why pu’ ye out the grund-wa’[480] stane,
Lets in the reek to me?

XVII

‘And e’en wae worth ye, Jock, my man!
I paid ye weel your hire;
Why pu’ ye out the grund-wa’ stane,
To me lets in the fire?’--

XVIII

‘Ye paid me weel my hire, ladye,
Ye paid me weel my fee:
But now I’m Edom o’ Gordon’s man,
Maun either do or dee.’

XIX

O then bespake her little son,
Sat on the nurse’s knee:
Says, ‘Mither dear, gie owre this house,
For the reek it smithers me.’--

XX

‘I wad gie a’ my gowd, my bairn,
Sae wad I a’ my fee,
For ae blast o’ the western wind,
To blaw the reek frae thee.’

XXI

O then bespake her dochter dear--
She was baith jimp[481] and sma’:
‘O row[482] me in a pair o’ sheets,
And tow me owre the wa’!’

XXII

They row’d her in a pair o’ sheets,
And tow’d her owre the wa’;
But on the point o’ Gordon’s spear
She gat a deadly fa’.

XXIII

O bonnie, bonnie was her mouth,
And cherry were her cheiks,
And clear, clear was her yellow hair,
Whereon the red blood dreips.

XXIV

Then wi’ his spear he turn’d her owre;
O gin her face was wane!
He said, ‘Ye are the first that e’er
I wish’d alive again.’

XXV

He turn’d her owre and owre again;
O gin her skin was white!
‘I might hae spared that bonnie face
To hae been some man’s delight.

XXVI

‘Busk and boun[483], my merry men a’,
For ill dooms I do guess;
I canna look in that bonnie face
As it lies on the grass.’--

XXVII

‘Wha looks to freits[484], my master dear,
It’s freits will follow them;
Let it ne’er be said that Edom o’ Gordon
Was daunted by a dame.’

XXVIII

But when the lady saw the fire
Come flaming owre her head,
She wept, and kiss’d her children twain,
Says, ‘Bairns, we been but dead.’

XXIX

The Gordon then his bugle blew,
And said, ‘Awa’, awa’!
This house o’ the Rodes is a’ in a flame;
I hauld it time to ga’.’

XXX

And this way lookit her ain dear lord,
As he cam owre the lea;
He saw his castle a’ in a lowe[485],
As far as he could see.

XXXI

Then sair, O sair, his mind misgave,
And all his heart was wae:
‘Put on, put on, my wighty[486] men,
Sae fast as ye can gae.

XXXII

‘Put on, put on, my wighty men,
Sae fast as ye can drie!
For he that’s hindmost o’ the thrang
Sall ne’er get good o’ me.’

XXXIII

Then some they rade, and some they ran,
Out-owre the grass and bent;
But ere the foremost could win up,
Baith lady and babes were brent.

XXXIV

And after the Gordon he is gane,
Sae fast as he might drie;
And soon i’ the Gordon’s foul heart’s blude
He’s wroken[487] his dear ladye.

FOOTNOTES:

[475] hauld = place of shelter.

[476] town = stead.

[477] buskit = attired.

[478] dree = suffer.

[479] wud = mad.

[480] grund-wa’ = ground-wall.

[481] jimp = slender, trim.

[482] row = wrap.

[483] Busk and boun = trim up and prepare to go.

[484] freits = ill omen.

[485] lowe = flame.