The Oxford Book of Ballads
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Title: The Oxford Book of Ballads
Editor: Arthur Quiller-Couch
Release date: January 5, 2014 [eBook #44593]
Most recently updated: October 23, 2024
Language: English
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Transcriber's Note:
Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully as
possible. Some minor corrections of spelling and puctuation have
been made.
Italic text has been marked with _underscores_.
The Oxford Book of Ballads
The
Oxford Book of
Ballads
Chosen & Edited by
Arthur Quiller-Couch
Oxford
At the Clarendon Press
PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN
TO
THE ONE SURVIVOR
OF THREE MEN
TO WHOM ALL LOVERS OF THE BALLAD
OWE MOST IN THESE TIMES
FRANCIS JAMES CHILD
FREDERICK JAMES FURNIVALL
AND
JOHN WESLEY HALES
PREFACE
As in _The Oxford Book of English Verse_ I tried to range over the
whole field of the English Lyric, and to choose the best, so in this
volume I have sought to bring together the best Ballads out of the
whole of our national stock. But the method, order, balance of the
two books are different perforce, as the fates of the Lyric and the
Ballad have been diverse. While the Lyric in general, still making
for variety, is to-day more prolific than ever and (all cant apart)
promises fruit to equal the best, that particular offshoot which we
call the Ballad has been dead, or as good as dead, for two hundred
years. It would seem to have discovered, almost at the start, a very
precise Platonic pattern of what its best should be; and having
exhausted itself in reproducing that, it declined (through a crab-apple
stage of Broadsides) into sterility. Therefore this anthology cannot
be brought down to the present day, and therefore the first half of it
contains far finer poetry than the second.
But it may be objected that among Ballads no such thing as chronological
order is possible; and that, if it were, I have not attempted it. ‘Why
then did I not boldly mix up all my flowers in a heap and afterwards
sit down to re-arrange them, disregarding history, studious only
that one flower should set off another and the whole wreath be a
well-balanced circle?’ I will try to answer this, premising only that
tact is nine-tenths of the anthologist’s business. It is very true that
the Ballads have no chronology: that no one can say when _Hynd Horn_
was composed, or assert with proof that _Clerk Saunders_ is younger
than _Childe Maurice_ or _Tam Lin_ older than _Sir Patrick Spens_,
though that all five are older than _The Children in the Wood_ no one
with an ounce of literary sense would deny. Even of our few certainties
we have to remember that, where almost everything depends on oral
tradition, it may easily happen--in fact happens not seldom--that a
really old ballad ‘of the best period’ has reached us late and in a
corrupted form, its original gold overlaid with silver and bronze. It
is true, moreover, that these pages, declining an impossible order,
decline also the pretence to it. I have arranged the ballads in seven
books: of which the first deals with Magic, the ‘Seely Court’, and the
supernatural; the second (and on the whole the most beautiful) with
stories of absolute romance such as _Childe Waters_, _Lord Ingram_,
_Young Andrew_; the third with romance shading off into real history,
as in _Sir Patrick Spens_, _Hugh of Lincoln_, _The Queen’s Marie_; the
fourth with Early Carols and ballads of Holy Writ. This closes Part
I. The fifth book is all of the Greenwood and Robin Hood; the sixth
follows history down from Chevy Chase and the Homeric deeds of Douglas
and Percy to less renowned if not less spirited Border feuds; while the
seventh and last book presents the Ballad in various aspects of false
beginning and decline--_The Old Cloak_, which deserved a long line of
children but in fact has had few; _Barbara Allen_, late but exquisite;
_Lord Lovel_, which is silly sooth; and _The Suffolk Tragedy_, wherein
a magnificent ballad-theme is ambled to market like so much butter. My
hope is that this arrangement, while it avoids mixing up things that
differ and keeps consorted those (the Robin Hood Ballads for example)
which naturally go together, does ‘in round numbers’ give a view of the
Ballad in its perfection and decline, and that so my book may be useful
to the student as well as to the disinterested lover of poetry for whom
it is chiefly intended.
This brings me to the matter of text. To make a ‘scientific’ anthology
of the Ballads was out of the question. In so far as scientific
treatment could be brought to them the work had been done, for many
generations to come, if not finally, by the late Professor Child[1] in
his monumental edition, to which at every turn I have been indebted for
guidance back to the originals. Child’s method was to get hold of every
ballad in every extant version, good, bad, or indifferent, and to print
these versions side by side, with a foreword on the ballad’s history,
packed with every illustration that could be contributed out of his
immense knowledge of the folk-poetry of every race and country. His
work, as I say, left no room for follower or imitator; but fortunately
it lies almost as wide of my purpose as of my learning. My reader did
not require _Sir Patrick Spens_ or _May Colvin_ in a dozen or twenty
versions: he wanted one ballad, one _Sir Patrick Spens_, one _May
Colvin_, and that the best. How could I give him the best in my power?
There is only one way. It was Scott’s way, and the way of William
Allingham, who has been at pains to define it in the preface to his
_Ballad Book_ (Macmillan):--
The various oral versions of a popular ballad obtainable throughout
England, Scotland, and Ireland, are perhaps, even at this late
day,[2] practically innumerable--one as ‘authentic’ as another.
What then to do?... The right course has appeared to be this, to
make oneself acquainted with all attainable versions of a ballad.
Then (granting a ‘turn’ for such things, to begin; without which
all were labour in vain) the editor may be supposed to get as much
insight as may be into the origin and character of the ballad in
question; he sees or surmises more or less as to the earliest
version or versions, as to blunders, corruptions, alterations of
every sort (national, local, personal) on the part of the reciters;
he then comes to investigate the doings of former editors, adopting
thankfully what he finds good, correcting at points whereupon he
has attained better information, rejecting (when for the worse)
acknowledged or obvious interpolations or changes. He has to
give it in _one_ form--the best according to his judgement and
feeling--in firm black and white, for critics, and for readers
cultivated and simple.
This fairly describes Scott’s method as well as Allingham’s own. But
while I must claim along with them ‘a “turn” for such things’ (the
claim is implicit in my attempt), these two men were poets, and could
dare more boldly than I to rewrite a faulty stanza or to supply a
missing one. Of this ticklish license I have been extremely chary,
and have used it with the double precaution (1) of employing, so far
as might be, words and phrases found elsewhere in the text of the
ballad, and (2) of printing these experiments in square brackets,[3]
that the reader may not be misled. Maybe I should have resisted the
temptation altogether but for the necessity--in a work intended for
all sorts of readers, young and old--of removing or reducing here and
there in these eight hundred and sixty-five pages a coarse or a brutal
phrase. To those who deny the necessity I will only answer that while
no literature in the world exercises a stronger or on the whole a saner
fascination upon imaginative youth than do these ballads, it seems to
me wiser to omit a stanza from _Glasgerion_, for example, or to modify
a line in _Young Hunting_, than to withhold these beautiful things
altogether from boy or maid.
Before leaving this subject of texts and their handling, I must express
my thanks for the permission given me to make free use of the text of
the Percy Folio MS., edited by Professors Hales and Furnivall some
forty years ago. This was of course indispensable. In the history of
our ballad-literature the _Reliques_ themselves are, if something more
of a landmark, much less of a trophy than the three famous volumes so
romantically achieved by Professor Child and their two editors, whose
labour has been scarcely more honourable than their liberality which
has ever laid its results open to men’s benefit. Mr. Child died in
1896; Mr. Furnivall a few months ago. To Mr. Hales, survivor of the
famous three, I owe the permission given with a courtesy which set a
fresh value on what was already beyond value. I must also thank the
Rev. Sabine Baring-Gould for leave to include _The Brown Girl_ and
other ballads from his _Songs of the West_ and _A Garland of Country
Song_ (Methuen). It were idle to quote all the scholars--Ritson, Herd,
Scott, Jamieson and the rest--to whose labours every ballad-editor must
be indebted: but among younger men I wish to thank Mr. F. Sidgwick,
whose method in his two volumes of Ballads (Bullen) I can admire the
more unreservedly because it differs from mine.
I hope, at any rate, that in presenting each ballad as _one_, and
reconstructing it sometimes from many versions, I have kept pretty
constantly to the idea, of which Professor Ker[4] says--‘The truth is
that the Ballad is an Idea, a Poetical Form, which can take up any
matter, and does not leave that matter as it was before.’ If the reader
interrogate me concerning this Idea of the Ballad, as Mr. Pecksniff
demanded of Mrs. Todgers her Notion of a Wooden Leg, Professor Ker has
my answer prepared:--
In spite of Socrates and his logic we may venture to say, in answer
to the question ‘What is a ballad?’--‘A Ballad is _The Milldams of
Binnorie_ and _Sir Patrick Spens_ and _The Douglas Tragedy_ and
_Lord Randal_ and _Childe Maurice_, and things of that sort.’
There the reader has it, without need of the definition or of the
historical account which this Preface must not attempt. Its author,
no doubt, is destined to consign, some day, and ‘come to dust’ with
more learned editors: but meanwhile, if one ask ‘What is a Ballad?’--I
answer, It is these things; and it is
About the dead hour o’ the night
She heard the bridles ring.
(_Tam Lin_)
and
But this ladye is gone to her chamber,
Her maydens following bright.
(_Sir Cawline_)
It is
‘O we were sisters, sisters seven;
We were the fairest under heaven.’
(_Cospatrick_)
and
‘I see no harm by you, Margaret,
Nor you see none by me.’
(_Fair Margaret and Sweet William_)
and
In somer, when the shawes be sheyne,
And leves be large and long.
(_Robin Hood and the Monk_)
and
O there was horsing, horsing in haste,
And cracking of whips out owre the lee.
(_Archie of Cawfield_)
It is even
And there did he see brave Captain Ogilvie
A-training of his men on the green.
(_The Duke of Gordon’s Daughter_)
Like the Clown in _Twelfth Night_, it can sing both high and low: but
the note is unmistakable whether it sing high:
O cocks are crowing on merry middle-earth;
I wot the wild fowls are boding day.
(_Clerk Saunders_)
Half-owre, half-owre to Aberdour,
’Tis fifty fathoms deep;
And there lies gude Sir Patrick Spens,
Wi’ the Scots lords at his feet!
(_Sir Patrick Spens_)
‘O Earl Bran’, I see your heart’s bloud!’--
_Ay lally, o lilly lally_
‘It’s na but the glent o’ my scarlet hood’
_All i’ the night sae early._
(_Earl Brand_)
or low
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.’
(_Young Beichan_)
‘An’ thu sall marry a proud gunner,
An’ a proud gunner I’m sure he’ll be.’
(_The Great Silkie of Sule Skerrie_)
Rise up, rise up, brother Dives,
And go with us to see
A dismal place, prepared in hell,
To sit on a serpent’s knee.
(_Dives and Lazarus_)
or, merely flat and pedestrian:
There was slayne upon the English part
For sooth as I you say,
Of ninè thousand English men
Five hundred came away.
(_Otterburn_)
But it is always unmistakable and like no other thing in poetry; in
proof of which let me offer one simple, practical test. If any man ever
steeped himself in balladry, that man was Scott, and once or twice,
as in _Proud Maisie_ and _Brignall Banks_, he came near to distil
the essence. If any man, taking the Ballad for his model, has ever
sublimated its feeling and language in a poem
seraphically free
From taint of personality,
that man was Coleridge and that poem his _Ancient Mariner_. If any poet
now alive can be called a ballad-writer of genius, it is the author
of _Danny Deever_ and _East and West_. But let the reader suppose a
fascicule of such poems bound up with the present collection, and he
will perceive that I could have gone no straighter way to destroy the
singularity of the book.
In claiming this singularity for the Ballad I do not seek to exalt it
above any other lyrical form. Rather I am ready to admit, out of some
experience in anthologizing, that when a ballad is set in a collection
alongside the best of Herrick, Gray, Landor, Browning--to name four
poets opposite as the poles and to say nothing of such masterwork as
Spenser’s _Epithalamion_ or Milton’s _Lycidas_--it is the ballad that
not only suffers by the apposition but suffers to a surprising degree;
so that I have sometimes been forced to reconsider my affection, and
ask ‘Are these ballads really beautiful as they have always appeared
to me?’ In truth (as I take it) the contrast is unfair to them, much
as any contrast between children and grown folk would be unfair. They
appealed to something young in the national mind, and the young still
ramp through Percy’s _Reliques_--as I hope they will through this
book--‘trailing clouds of glory,’ following the note in Elmond’s wood--
May Margaret sits in her bower door
Sewing her silken seam;
She heard a note in Elmond’s wood,
And wish’d she there had been.
She loot the seam fa’ frae her side,
The needle to her tae,
And she is on to Elmond’s wood
As fast as she could gae.
A. Q. C.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] A smaller edition of ‘Child’, excellently planned, by Helen Child
Sargent and George Lyman Kittridge, is published in England by Mr. Nutt.
[2] 1864.
[3] This does not hold of small transpositions, elisions of superfluous
words, or corrections of spelling. In these matters I have allowed
myself a free hand.
[4] _On the History of the Ballads, 1100-1500_, by W. P. Ker,
Proceedings of the British Academy, vol. iv.
CONTENTS
PART I
BOOK I
NO. PAGE
1. Thomas the Rhymer 1
2. Tam Lin 4
3. Sir Cawline 14
4. Sir Aldingar 20
5. Cospatrick 29
6. Willy’s Lady 36
7. The Queen of Elfland’s Nourice 41
8. Lady Isabel and the Elf-Knight 43
9. The Riddling Knight 46
10. May Colvin 47
11. The Wee Wee Man 51
12. Alison Gross 52
13. Kemp Owyne 55
14. The Laily Worm 59
15. King Orfeo 62
16. King Henry 64
17. The Boy and the Mantle 68
18. King Arthur and King Cornwall 75
19. The Marriage of Sir Gawain 88
20. Bonnie Annie 98
21. Brown Robyn’s Confession 100
22. The Cruel Mother 102
23. Binnorie 104
24. The Broomfield Hill 107
25. Earl Mar’s Daughter 110
26. Proud Lady Margaret 116
27. Clerk Saunders 118
28. The Daemon Lover 123
29. Clerk Colven 126
30. Young Hunting 129
31. The Great Silkie of Sule Skerrie 135
32. The Wife of Usher’s Well 136
33. A Lyke-Wake Dirge 138
34. The Unquiet Grave 140
BOOK II
35. Hynd Horn 142
36. Hynd Etin 145
37. Erlinton 153
38. Earl Brand 157
39. The Douglas Tragedy 160
40. Glasgerion 163
41. King Estmere 167
42. Fair Annie 179
43. The Lass of Lochroyan 184
44. Young Bekie 193
45. Young Beichan 199
46. Childe Waters 205
47. Childe Maurice 214
48. Brown Adam 221
49. Jellon Grame 223
50. Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard 227
51. Lord Ingram and Childe Vyet 232
52. Fair Janet 237
53. Old Robin of Portingale 242
54. Lord Thomas and Fair Annet 247
55. Rose the Red and White Lily 253
56. Leesome Brand 262
57. Babylon 265
58. Prince Robert 267
59. Young Andrew 270
60. The Gay Goshawk 275
61. Willie’s Lyke-Wake 280
62. Fair Margaret and Sweet William 281
63. The Twa Brothers 284
64. The Cruel Brother 287
65. Edward, Edward 290
66. Lord Randal 292
67. The Twa Corbies 293
68. The Three Ravens 294
BOOK III
69. The Nut-Brown Maid 295
70. Fause Foodrage 308
71. The Fair Flower of Northumberland 314
72. Young John 318
73. Lady Maisry 320
74. Bonny Bee Ho’m 326
75. Sir Patrick Spens 328
76. The Lord of Lorn 332
77. Edom o’ Gordon 342
78. Lamkin 348
79. Hugh of Lincoln 353
80. The Heir of Linne 356
81. Fair Mary of Wallington 361
82. Young Waters 367
83. The Queen’s Marie 369
84. The Outlaw Murray 374
85. Glenlogie 386
86. Lady Elspat 388
87. Jamie Douglas 390
88. Katharine Johnstone 395
89. Johnie Armstrong 398
90. Clyde Water 404
91. Young Benjie 409
92. Annan Water 413
93. Rare Willie Drowned in Yarrow 416
94. The Duke of Gordon’s Daughter 417
95. The Bonny Earl of Murray 422
96. Bonny George Campbell 423
BOOK IV
97. Judas 425
98. St. Stephen and King Herod 426
99. The Maid and the Palmer 428
100. The Falcon 430
101. The Cherry-Tree Carol 431
102. The Carnal and the Crane 434
103. Jolly Wat 439
104. I Saw Three Ships 442
105. The Twelve Good Joys 443
106. The Angel Gabriel 446
107. The Three Kings 448
108. The Innocents 451
109. Dives and Lazarus 455
110. The Holy Well 458
111. The Seven Virgins 460
PART II
BOOK V
112. Robyn and Gandelyn 462
113. The Birth of Robin Hood 465
114. Adam Bell, Clym of the Clough, and William of Clondesley 468
115. A Little Geste of Robin Hood and his Meiny 497
116. Robin Hood and Guy of Gisborne 575
117. Robin Hood and the Monk 585
118. Robin Hood and the Curtal Friar 600
119. Robin Hood and the Butcher 607
120. Robin Hood and the Bishop of Hereford 612
121. Robin Hood and Alan a Dale 616
122. Robin Hood and the Widow’s Three Sons 621
123. Robin Hood’s Golden Prize 626
124. The Noble Fisherman 630
125. The Death of Robin Hood 635
BOOK VI
126. Durham Field 640
127. The Battle of Otterburn 651
128. Chevy Chase 664
129. Northumberland Betrayed by Douglas 675
130. Sir Andrew Barton 684
131. The ‘George Aloe’ 697
132. The ‘Golden Vanity’ 701
133. John Dory 703
134. Willie Macintosh 704
135. The Bonnie House o’ Airlie 705
136. Johnnie of Cockerslee 707
137. Kinmont Willie 712
138. Jock o’ the Side 720
139. Hobbie Noble 726
140. Archie of Cawfield 732
141. Jamie Telfer in the Fair Dodhead 738
142. Dick o’ the Cow 746
143. Hughie the Graeme 757
144. The Lochmaben Harper 759
145. The Fire of Frendraught 763
146. The Death of Parcy Reed 767
147. Baby Livingston 774
148. The Gypsy Countess 781
149. The Baron of Brackley 783
150. The Dowie Houms of Yarrow 786
151. Lord Maxwell’s Last Goodnight 789
152. Helen of Kirconnell 792
153. The Lament of the Border Widow 793
BOOK VII
154. Lady Alice 795
155. Lord Lovel 796
156. The Trees so High 798
157. The Brown Girl 800
158. Barbara Allen’s Cruelty 802
159. The Gardener 804
160. The Lowlands o’ Holland 806
161. The Spanish Lady’s Love 807
162. The Bailiff’s Daughter of Islington 811
163. The Blind Beggar’s Daughter of Bednall-Green 813
164. The Loving Ballad of Lord Bateman 825
165. Mary Ambree 829
166. The Lady turned Serving-Man 832
167. The Simple Ploughboy 837
168. Cawsand Bay 839
169. The Greenland Fishery 841
170. The Old Cloak 843
171. Widdicombe Fair 845
172. Get Up and Bar the Door 847
173. King John and the Abbot of Canterbury 849
174. The Children in the Wood 854
175. The Suffolk Miracle 860
176. Bessie Bell and Mary Gray 865
INDEX OF FIRST LINES 867
_Certainly, I must confesse my own barbarousnes, I neuer heard the
olde song of_ Percy _and_ Duglas _that I found not my heart mooued
more then with a Trumpet._
SIR PHILIP SIDNEY.
BOOK I
_1. Thomas the Rhymer_
I
True Thomas lay on Huntlie bank;
A ferlie[5] he spied wi’ his e’e;
And there he saw a ladye bright
Come riding down by the Eildon Tree.
II
Her skirt was o’ the grass-green silk,
Her mantle o’ the velvet fyne;
At ilka tett[6] o’ her horse’s mane
Hung fifty siller bells and nine.
III
True Thomas he pu’d aff his cap,
And louted low down on his knee:
‘Hail to thee, Mary, Queen of Heaven!
For thy peer on earth could never be.’
IV
‘O no, O no, Thomas,’ she said,
‘That name does not belang to me;
I’m but the Queen o’ fair Elfland,
That am hither come to visit thee.
V
‘Harp and carp[7], Thomas,’ she said;
‘Harp and carp along wi’ me;
And if ye dare to kiss my lips,
Sure of your bodie I will be.’
VI
‘Betide me weal, betide me woe,
That weird[8] shall never daunten me.’
Syne he has kiss’d her rosy lips,
All underneath the Eildon Tree.
VII
‘Now ye maun go wi’ me,’ she said,
‘True Thomas, ye maun go wi’ me;
And ye maun serve me seven years,
Thro’ weal or woe as may chance to be.’
VIII
She’s mounted on her milk-white steed,
She’s ta’en true Thomas up behind;
And aye, whene’er her bridle rang,
The steed gaed swifter than the wind.
IX
O they rade on, and farther on,
The steed gaed swifter than the wind;
Until they reach’d a desert wide,
And living land was left behind.
X
‘Light down, light down now, true Thomas,
And lean your head upon my knee;
Abide ye there a little space,
And I will show you ferlies three.
XI
‘O see ye not yon narrow road,
So thick beset wi’ thorns and briers?
That is the Path of Righteousness,
Though after it but few inquires.
XII
‘And see ye not yon braid, braid road,
That lies across the lily leven[9]?
That is the Path of Wickedness,
Though some call it the Road to Heaven.
XIII
‘And see ye not yon bonny road
That winds about the fernie brae?
That is the Road to fair Elfland,
Where thou and I this night maun gae.
XIV
‘But, Thomas, ye sall haud your tongue,
Whatever ye may hear or see;
For speak ye word in Elflyn-land,
Ye’ll ne’er win back to your ain countrie.’
XV
O they rade on, and farther on,
And they waded rivers abune the knee;
And they saw neither sun nor moon,
But they heard the roaring of the sea.
XVI
It was mirk, mirk night, there was nae starlight,
They waded thro’ red blude to the knee;
For a’ the blude that’s shed on the earth
Rins through the springs o’ that countrie.
XVII
Syne they came to a garden green,
And she pu’d an apple frae a tree:
‘Take this for thy wages, true Thomas;
It will give thee the tongue that can never lee.’
XVIII
‘My tongue is my ain,’ true Thomas he said;
‘A gudely gift ye wad gie to me!
I neither dought[10] to buy or sell
At fair or tryst where I might be.
XIX
‘I dought neither speak to prince or peer,
Nor ask of grace from fair ladye!’--
‘Now haud thy peace, Thomas,’ she said,
‘For as I say, so must it be.’
XX
He has gotten a coat of the even cloth[11],
And a pair o’ shoon of the velvet green;
And till seven years were gane and past,
True Thomas on earth was never seen.
FOOTNOTES:
[5] ferlie = marvel.
[6] tett = tuft.
[7] harp and carp = play and recite (as a minstrel).
[8] weird = doom.
[9] leven =? lawn.
[10] dought = could.
[11] even cloth = smooth cloth.
_2. Tam Lin_
I
‘O I forbid you, maidens a’,
That wear gowd on your hair,
To come or gae by Carterhaugh,
For young Tam Lin is there.
II
‘For even about that knight’s middle
O’ siller bells are nine;
And nae maid comes to Carterhaugh
And a maid returns again.’
III
Fair Janet sat in her bonny bower,
Sewing her silken seam,
And wish’d to be in Carterhaugh
Amang the leaves sae green.
IV
She’s lat her seam fa’ to her feet,
The needle to her tae[12],
And she’s awa’ to Carterhaugh
As fast as she could gae.
V
And she has kilted her green kirtle
A little abune her knee;
And she has braided her yellow hair
A little abune her bree[13];
And she has gaen for Carterhaugh
As fast as she can hie.
VI
She hadna pu’d a rose, a rose,
A rose but barely ane,
When up and started young Tam Lin;
Says, ‘Ladye, let alane.
VII
‘What gars ye pu’ the rose, Janet?
What gars ye break the tree?
What gars ye come to Carterhaugh
Without the leave o’ me?’
VIII
‘Weel may I pu’ the rose,’ she says,
‘And ask no leave at thee;
For Carterhaugh it is my ain,
My daddy gave it me.’
IX
He’s ta’en her by the milk-white hand,
And by the grass-green sleeve,
He’s led her to the fairy ground
At her he ask’d nae leave.
X
Janet has kilted her green kirtle
A little abune her knee,
And she has snooded her yellow hair
A little abune her bree,
And she is to her father’s ha’
As fast as she can hie.
XI
But when she came to her father’s ha’,
She look’d sae wan and pale,
They thought the lady had gotten a fright,
Or with sickness she did ail.
XII
Four and twenty ladies fair
Were playing at the ba’,
And out then came fair Janet
Ance the flower amang them a’.
XIII
Four and twenty ladies fair
Were playing at the chess,
And out then came fair Janet
As green as onie glass.
XIV
Out then spak’ an auld grey knight
’Lay owre the Castle wa’,
And says, ‘Alas, fair Janet!
For thee we’ll be blamèd a’.’
XV
‘Hauld your tongue, ye auld-faced knight,
Some ill death may ye die!
Father my bairn on whom I will,
I’ll father nane on thee.
XVI
‘O if my love were an earthly knight,
As he is an elfin gay,
I wadna gie my ain true-love
For nae laird that ye hae.
XVII
‘The steed that my true-love rides on
Is fleeter nor the wind;
Wi’ siller he is shod before,
Wi’ burning gold behind.’
XVIII
Out then spak’ her brither dear--
He meant to do her harm:
‘There grows an herb in Carterhaugh
Will twine[14] you an’ the bairn.’
XIX
Janet has kilted her green kirtle
A little abune her knee,
And she has snooded her yellow hair
A little abune her bree,
And she’s awa’ to Carterhaugh
As fast as she can hie.
XX
She hadna pu’d a leaf, a leaf,
A leaf but only twae,
When up and started young Tam Lin,
Says, ‘Ladye, thou’s pu’ nae mae.
XXI
‘How dar’ ye pu’ a leaf?’ he says,
‘How dar’ ye break the tree?
How dar’ ye scathe[15] my babe,’ he says,
‘That’s between you and me?’
XXII
‘O tell me, tell me, Tam,’ she says,
‘For His sake that died on tree,
If ye were ever in holy chapel
Or sain’d[16] in Christentie?’
XXIII
‘The truth I’ll tell to thee, Janet,
Ae word I winna lee;
A knight me got, and a lady me bore,
As well as they did thee.
XXIV
‘Roxburgh he was my grandfather,
Took me with him to bide;
And ance it fell upon a day,
As hunting I did ride,
XXV
‘There came a wind out o’ the north,
A sharp wind an’ a snell[17],
A dead sleep it came over me
And frae my horse I fell;
And the Queen o’ Fairies she took me
In yon green hill to dwell.
XXVI
‘And pleasant is the fairy land
For those that in it dwell,
But ay at end of seven years
They pay a teind[18] to hell;
I am sae fair and fu’ o’ flesh
I’m fear’d ’twill be mysell.
XXVII
‘But the night is Hallowe’en, Janet,
The morn is Hallowday;
Then win me, win me, an ye will,
For weel I wat ye may.
XXVIII
‘The night it is gude Hallowe’en,
The fairy folk do ride,
And they that wad their true-love win,
At Miles Cross they maun bide.’--
XXIX
‘But how should I you ken, Tam Lin,
How should I borrow[19] you,
Amang a pack of uncouth[20] knights
The like I never saw?’--
XXX
‘You’ll do you down to Miles Cross
Between twel’ hours and ane,
And fill your hands o’ the holy water
And cast your compass roun’.
XXXI
‘The first company that passes by,
Say na, and let them gae;
The neist company that passes by,
Say na, and do right sae;
The third company that passes by,
Then I’ll be ane o’ thae.
XXXII
‘O first let pass the black, ladye,
And syne let pass the brown;
But quickly run to the milk-white steed,
Pu’ ye his rider down.
XXXIII
‘For some ride on the black, ladye,
And some ride on the brown;
But I ride on a milk-white steed,
A gowd star on my crown:
Because I was an earthly knight
They gie me that renown.
XXXIV
‘My right hand will be gloved, ladye,
My left hand will be bare,
And thae’s the tokens I gie thee:
Nae doubt I will be there.
XXXV
‘Ye’ll tak’ my horse then by the head
And let the bridle fa’;
The Queen o’ Elfin she’ll cry out
“True Tam Lin he’s awa’!”
XXXVI
‘They’ll turn me in your arms, ladye,
An aske[21] but and a snake;
But hauld me fast, let me na gae,
To be your warldis make[22].
XXXVII
‘They’ll turn me in your arms, ladye,
But and a deer so wild;
But hauld me fast, let me na gae,
The father o’ your child.
XXXVIII
‘They’ll shape me in your arms, ladye,
A hot iron at the fire;
But hauld me fast, let me na go,
To be your heart’s desire.
XXXIX
‘They’ll shape me last in your arms, Janet,
A mother-naked man;
Cast your green mantle over me,
And sae will I be won.’
XL
Janet has kilted her green kirtle
A little abune the knee;
And she has snooded her yellow hair
A little abune her bree,
And she is on to Miles Cross
As fast as she can hie.
XLI
About the dead hour o’ the night
She heard the bridles ring;
And Janet was as glad at that
As any earthly thing.
XLII
And first gaed by the black, black steed,
And syne gaed by the brown;
But fast she gript the milk-white steed
And pu’d the rider down.
XLIII
She’s pu’d him frae the milk-white steed,
An’ loot[23] the bridle fa’,
And up there rase an eldritch[24] cry,
‘True Tam Lin he’s awa’!’
XLIV
They shaped him in her arms twa
An aske but and a snake;
But aye she grips and hau’ds him fast
To be her warldis make.
XLV
They shaped him in her arms twa
But and a deer sae wild;
But aye she grips and hau’ds him fast,
The father o’ her child.
XLVI
They shaped him in her arms twa
A hot iron at the fire;
But aye she grips and hau’ds him fast
To be her heart’s desire.
XLVII
They shaped him in her arms at last
A mother-naked man;
She cast her mantle over him,
And sae her love she wan.
XLVIII
Up then spak’ the Queen o’ Fairies,
Out o’ a bush o’ broom,
‘She that has borrow’d young Tam Lin
Has gotten a stately groom.’
XLIX
Out then spak’ the Queen o’ Fairies,
And an angry woman was she,
‘She’s ta’en awa’ the bonniest knight
In a’ my companie!
L
‘But what I ken this night, Tam Lin,
Gin I had kent yestreen,
I wad ta’en out thy heart o’ flesh,
And put in a heart o’ stane.
LI
‘And adieu, Tam Lin! But gin I had kent
A ladye wad borrow’d thee,
I wad ta’en out thy twa grey e’en
Put in twa e’en o’ tree[25].
LII
‘And had I the wit yestreen, yestreen,
That I have coft[26] this day,
I’d paid my teind seven times to hell
Ere you had been won away!’
FOOTNOTES:
[12] tae = toe.
[13] bree = eye-brow.
[14] twine = part, sunder.
[15] scathe = harm.
[16] sain’d = blessed, baptised.
[17] snell = keen, cold.
[18] teind = tithe.
[19] borrow = ransom.
[20] uncouth = unknown.
[21] aske = newt, lizard.
[22] make = mate, husband.
[23] loot = let.
[24] eldritch = unearthly.
[25] tree = wood.
[26] coft = bought.
_3. Sir Cawline_
I
_Jesus, Lord mickle of might,
That dyed for us on roode,
So maintaine us in all our right
That loves true English blood!_
II
Sir Cawline [was an English knight]
Curteous and full hardye;
[And our King has lent him] forth to fight,
Into Ireland over the sea.
III
And in that land there dwells a King,
Over all the bell does beare;
And he hath a ladye to his daughter,
Of fashion[27] she hath no peere;
Knights and lordes they woo’d her both,
Trusted to have been her feere[28].
IV
Sir Cawline loves her best of onie,
But nothing durst he say
To discreeve[29] his councell to no man,
But dearlye loved this may[30].
V
Till it befell upon a day,
Great dill[31] to him was dight[32];
The mayden’s love removed his mind,
To care-bed[33] went the knight.
VI
One while he spread his armes him fro,
And cryed so pittyouslye:
‘For the mayden’s love that I have most minde
This day shall comfort mee,
Or else ere noone I shall be dead!’
Thus can Sir Cawline say.
VII
When the parish mass that itt was done,
And the King was bowne[34] to dine,
Says, ‘Where is Sir Cawline, that was wont
To serve me with ale and wine?’
VIII
But then answer’d a curteous knight
Fast his hands wringìnge:
‘Sir Cawline’s sicke and like to be dead
Without and a good leechìnge[35].’
IX
‘Feitch ye downe my daughter deere,
She is a leeche full fine;
Ay, and take you doe and the baken bread,
And [drinke he of] the wine soe red,
And looke no daynty’s for him too deare,
For full loth I wo’ld him tine[36].’
X
This ladye is gone to his chamber,
Her maydens following nye;
‘O well,’ she saith, ‘how doth my lord?’
‘O sicke!’ againe saith hee.
XI
‘But rise up wightlye[37], man, for shame!
Ne’er lie here soe cowardlye!
Itt is told in my father’s hall
For my love you will dye.’--
XII
‘Itt is for your love, fayre ladye,
That all this dill I drie;
For if you wo’ld comfort me with a kisse,
Then were I brought from bale to bliss,
No longer here wo’ld I lye.’--
XIII
‘Alas! soe well you know, Sir Knight,
I cannot be your feere.’--
‘Yet some deeds of armes fain wo’ld I doe
To be your bacheleere.’--
XIV
‘On Eldritch Hill there grows a thorn,
Upon the mores[38] brodinge[39];
And wo’ld you, Sir Knight, wake there all night
To day of the other morninge?
XV
‘For the Eldritch King, that is mickle of might,
Will examine[40] you beforne[41]:
There was never a man bare his life away
Since the day that I was born.’--
XVI
‘But I will for your sake, ladye,
Walk on the bents[42] soe browne,
And I’ll either bring you a readye token,
Or I’ll ne’er come to you again.’
XVII
But this ladye is gone to her chamber,
Her maydens following bright;
And Sir Cawline’s gone to the mores soe broad,
For to wake there all night.
XVIII
Unto midnight that the moone did rise
He walkèd up and downe,
And a lightsome bugle then heard he blow
Over the bents so browne;
Sayes he, ‘And if cryance[43] come to my heart,
I am farr from any good towne.’
XIX
And he spyèd, e’en a little him by,
A furyous king and a fell,
And a ladye bright his brydle led
[More] seemlye [than onie can tell].
XX
Soe fast he call’d on Sir Cawline,
‘O man, I rede thee flye!
For if cryance come untill thy heart
I’m afeard lest thou maun dye!’--
XXI
He sayes, ‘No cryance comes to my heart,
Nor i’faith I fear not thee;
For because thou ming’d[44] not Christ before,
The lesse me dreadeth thee.’
XXII
But Sir Cawline then he shooke a speare;
The King was bold, and abode:
And the timber those two children bare
Soe soon in sunder slode[45]:
Forth they tooke and two good swords,
And they layden on good loade[46].
XXIII
The Eldritch King was mickle of might,
And stiffly to the ground did stand;
But Sir Cawline with an aukeward[47] stroke
He brought from him his hand--
Ay, and flying over his head so hye
It fell down of that lay land[48].
XXIV
His ladye stood a little thereby,
Fast her hands wringìnge:
‘For the mayden’s love that you have most minde,
Smyte you noe more [this King].
XXV
‘And he’s never[49] come upon Eldritch Hill
Him to sport, gammon or play,
And to meet no man of middle-earth[50]
That lives on Christ his lay[51].’
XXVI
But he then up, that Eldritch King,
Set him in his sadle againe,
And that Eldritch King and his ladye
To their castle are they gone.
XXVII
Sir Cawline took up that eldritch sword
As hard as any flynt,
Soe did he [the hand with] ringès five
Harder than fyer, and brent[52].
XXVIII
The watchmen cryed upon the walls
And sayd, ‘Sir Cawline’s slaine!’
Then the King’s daughter she fell downe,
‘For peerlesse is my payne!’--
XXIX
‘O peace, my ladye!’ sayes Sir Cawline,
‘I have bought thy love full deare;
O peace, my ladye!’ sayes Sir Cawline,
‘Peace, ladye, for I am heere!’
XXX
He’s presented to the King’s daughter
The hand, and then the sword
[And he has claimed the King’s daughter
According to her word].
XXXI
And the King has betaken[53] him his broad lands
And all his venison[54];
[Sayes] ‘Thou shalt have my daughter deare,
[And be my onelye son’].
FOOTNOTES:
[27] fashion = form, beauty.
[28] feere = mate, consort.
[29] discreeve = discover.
[30] may = maid.
[31] dill = dole, grief.
[32] dight = ordained.
[33] care-bed = sick-bed.
[34] bowne = made ready, gone.
[35] without and, &c. = unless he have a good leech, or physician.
[36] tine = lose.
[37] wightlye = briskly, stoutly.
[38] mores = moors.
[39] brodinge = growing, sprouting.
[40] examine = put to the test.
[41] beforne = before (morning).
[42] bents = rough grasses.
[43] cryance = yielding, cowardice.
[44] ming’d = mentioned, spoke the name of.
[45] slode = split.
[46] good loade = heavily.
[47] aukeward = back-handed.
[48] lay land = lea, land not under cultivation; here = ground.
[49] he’s never = he will never.
[50] middle-earth = this earth, as midway between heaven and hell.
[51] lay = law, faith.
[52] brent = smooth.
[53] betaken = given, made over.
[54] venison = i. e. deer-forests.
_4. Sir Aldingar_
I
Our King he kept a false steward,
Men call’d him Sir Aldingar;
[He would have woo’d our comely Queene
To be his paramour].
II
He would have woo’d our comely Queene,
Her deere worship to betray:
Our Queene she was a good woman
And evermore said him nay.
III
Sir Aldingar was offended in ’s mind,
With her he was ne’er content,
But he sought what meanès he could find
In a fyer to have her brent[55].
IV
There came a lame lazar to the King’s gate,
A lazar ’was blind and lame;
He took the lazar upon his backe,
Upon the Queene’s bed did him lay.
V
Said, ‘Lye still, lazar, whereas thou lyest,
Looke thou goe not away;
I’le make thee a whole man and a sound
In two howres of a day.’
VI
And then went forth Sir Aldingar
Our Queene for to betray,
And then he met with our comely King,
Says, ‘God you save and see!
VII
‘If I had space, as I have grace,
A message I’d say to thee.’--
‘Say on, say on, Sir Aldingar,
Say thou on and unto me.’
VIII
‘I can shew you one of the grievous’t sights
Ever Christian King did see;
Our Queene hath chosen a new, new love,
She will have none of thee.
IX
‘If she had chosen a right good knight,
The lesse had beene her shame;
But she hath chosen a lazar man
Which is both blind and lame.’--
X
‘If this be true, Sir Aldingar,
That thou dost tell to me,
Then will I make thee a rich knight
Both of gold and fee.
XI
‘But if it be false, Sir Aldingar,
That thou dost tell to me,
Then looke thou for no other death
But to be hang’d on tree.’
XII
When the King came into the Queene’s chamber,
Standing her bed before,
‘There’s a lodly[56] lome[57],’ says Harry the King
For our dame Queene Elinor!
XIII
‘If thou were a man, as thou art none,
It is here thou shouldest dye;
But a paire of new gallowes shall be built,
Thou’st hang on them soe hye.
XIV
‘And a fayre fyer there shall be bett[58],
And brent our Queene shall been.’
Forth then walk’d our comely King,
And met with our comely Queene.
XV
Saies, ‘God you save our Queene, Madam,
And Christ you save and see!
Here you have chosen a new, new love,
And you will have none of mee.
XVI
‘If you had chosen a right good knight,
The lesse had beene your shame;
But you have chosen a lazar man
That is both blind and lame.’
XVII
‘Ever alacke!’ said our comely Queene,
‘Sir Aldingar he is false;
But ever alacke!’ said our comely Queene,
‘And woe is me, and alas!
XVIII
‘I had thought swevens[59] had never been true
I have proved them true [today]:
I dream’d in my swevens on Thursday at even
In my bed wheras I lay,
XIX
‘I dreamèd a grype[60] and a grimlie beast
Had carried my crowne away,
My gorget and my kirtle of golde,
And all my heade-geare [gay].
XX
‘He wo’ld have worryed me with his tush[61],
And borne me into his nest,
Saving there came a little hawke
Flying out of the east.
XXI
‘--Saving there came a little hawke
Which men call a merlion[62];
He stroke him downe untill the ground,
That deade he did fall downe.
XXII
‘Gif I were a man, as I am none,
A battell I wo’ld prove;
I wo’ld fight with that false traitor;
At him I cast my glove!
XXIII
‘Seeing I am able noe battell to make,
You must grant me, my liege, a knight,
To fight with that traitor, Sir Aldingar,
To maintaine me in my right.’
XXIV
‘I’le give thee forty dayes,’ said our King,
‘To seeke thee a man therein;
If thou find not a man in forty dayes,
In a hott fyer thou shalt brenn.’
XXV
Our Queene sent forth a messenger;
He rode fast into the south;
He rode the countryes through and through
Soe far unto Portsmouth.
XXVI
[But for all his riding ne’er sped he
To fetch help to our Queene;]
He co’ld find noe man in the south countrỳ
‘Wo’ld fight with the knight soe keene.
XXVII
The second messenger shee sent forth,
Rode far into the east;
But--blessèd be God ’made sunn and moone!--
He sped then all of the best.
XXVIII
As he rode then by one river side,
There he mett with a little Child;
He seemèd noe more in a man’s likenesse
Than a child of four yeeres old.
XXIX
He ask’d the messenger how far he rode;
Loth he was him to tell;
The little one was offended att him,
Bade him adieu, farewell.
XXX
Said, ‘Turne thou againe, thou messenger,
Greete our Queen well from me;
When bale[63] is at hyest, boote[64] is at nyest--
Helpe enough there may bee.
XXXI
‘Bid our Queene remember what she did dreame
In her bedd wheras shee lay;
She dreamèd the grype and the grimlie beast
Had carryed her crowne away;
XXXII
‘Her gorgett and her kirtle of gold,
Her head-geare [all soe drest]
He wo’ld have worryed her with his tush,
And borne her into his nest.
XXXIII
‘Saving there came a little hawke,
Men call him a merlion;
‘Did strike him downe untill the ground
That dead he did fall downe.
XXXIV
‘Bidd the Queene be merry att her heart,
Evermore light and glad;
When bale is at hyest, boote is at nyest,
Helpe enough [shall be had’].
XXXV
Then the Queen’s messenger rode backe,
A gladded man then was hee;
When that he came before our Queene,
A gladd woman then was shee.
XXXVI
She gave the messenger twenty pound,
O Lord, in gold and fee;
Saies, ‘Spend, nor spare while this doth last,
Then fetch thou more of me.’
XXXVII
Our Queene was put in a tunne[65] to burn;
She thought noe thing but death:
When they were ware of the Little One
’Came ryding forth of the east.
XXXVIII
With a mu[le and a bridle all of bells]
A lovelye child was hee;
When that he came to that fyér
He lighted the Queene full nigh.
XXXIX
Sayd, ‘Draw away these brands of fyer
’Lie burning before our Queene,
And fetch me hither Sir Aldingar
That is a knight soe keene.’
XL
When Aldingar saw that Little One,
Full little of him hee thought;
If there had been halfe a hundred such
Of them he would not have wrought[66].
XLI
He sayd, ‘Come hither, Sir Aldingar,
Thou seemest as big as a fooder[67];
I trust God ere I have done with thee
God will send us an auger.’
XLII
Sayes, ‘The first stroke that’s given, Sir Aldingar,
I will give unto thee;
And if the second give thou may,
Looke then thou spare not mee.’
XLIII
This Little One pull’d forth a well good sword,
I wis it well all of gilte.
It cast a light there over that field,
It shone soe all of gilte.
XLIV
He stroke the first stroke at Aldingar;
[Noe second needed hee;
At the first stroke] he stroke away
His leggs [all] by the knee.
XLV
Sayes, ‘Stand up, stand up, thou false traitor,
And fight upon thy feete;
For, an thou thrive as thou begins,
Of a height we shall be meete[68].’
XLVI
‘A priest, a priest,’ sayes Aldingar,
‘Me for to housel and shrive!
A priest, a priest,’ sayes Aldingar,
‘While I am a man living alive!
XLVII
‘I would have courted our comely Queene;
To it shee wo’ld never consent;
I thought to betray her to our King
In a fyer to have her brent.
XLVIII
‘There came a lame lazar to the King’s gate,
A lazar both blind and lame;
I took the lazar upon my back,
Upon the Queene’s bedd had him layn.
XLIX
‘I bade him, _Lye still, lazar_, where he lay,
Looke he went not away;
I wo’ld make him a whole man and a sound
In two houres of a day.
L
‘A priest, a priest,’ sayes Aldingar,
‘To shrive me cleane of hell!
Ever alacke!’ sayes Sir Aldingar,
‘Falsing never doth well.
LI
‘Forgive, forgive me, Queene, Madam!
For Christ’s love forgive me!’--
‘God forgave his death, Aldingar,
And freely I forgive thee.’--
LII
‘Now take thy wife, thou King Harry,
And love her as thou sho’ld;
Thy wife shee is as true to thee
As stone lies in castle wall.’
LIII
The lazar under the gallow tree
[Grew] a pretty man and small:
The lazar under the gallow tree
Was made steward in King Harry’s hall.
FOOTNOTES:
[55] brent = burnt.
[56] lodly = loathly.
[57] lome = thing.
[58] bett = kindled.
[59] swevens = dreams.
[60] grype = gryphon.
[61] tush = tusk, beak.
[62] merlion = merlin, a small falcon.
[63] bale = evil, trouble.
[64] boote = help, remedy.
[65] tunne = barrel.
[66] wrought = recked.
[67] fooder = tun.
[68] meete = matched, equal.
_5. Cospatrick_
I
Cospatrick has sent o’er the faem:
Cospatrick brought his ladye hame.
II
Full seven score ships have come her wi’,
The ladye by the grene-wood tree.
III
There was twal’ and twal’ wi’ baken bread,
And twal’ and twal’ wi’ the goud sae red:
IV
And twal’ and twal’ wi’ beer and wine,
And twal’ and twal’ wi’ muskadine:
V
And twal’ and twal’ wi’ bouted[69] flour,
And twal’ and twal’ wi’ paramour[70].
VI
Sweet Willy was a Widow’s son,
And at her stirrup he did run.
VII
And she was clad in the finest pall[71],
But aye she let the tears down fall.
VIII
‘O lady, sits your saddle awry?
Or is your steed for you owre high?
IX
‘Or are you mourning in your tide
That you suld be Cospatrick’s bride?’
X
‘I am not mourning at this tide
That I suld be Cospatrick’s bride:
XI
‘But I am mourning in my mood
That ever I left my mother good.
XII
‘But, bonny boy, come tell to me
What is the custom o’ your countrie?’
XIII
‘The custom thereof, my dame,’ he says,
‘Will ill a gentle ladye please.
XIV
‘Seven King’s daughters has our lord wedded,
And seven King’s daughters has our lord bedded:
XV
‘But he’s cutted their breasts frae their breast-bane,
And sent them mourning hame again.
XVI
‘But when you come to the palace yett[72],
His mother a gowden chair will set:
XVII
‘And be you maid or be you nane,
O sit you there till the day be dane.
XVIII
‘And gin you’re sure that you’re a maid,
Ye may gae safely him to wed:
XIX
‘But gif o’ that ye be na sure,
Then hire some damsel o’ your bour.’--
XX
O when she came to the palace yett,
His mother a gowden chair did set:
XXI
The bonnie may was tired wi’ ridin’,
Gae’d sit her down ere she was bidden.
XXII
And was she maid or was she nane,
She sat in it till the day was dune.
XXIII
And she’s call’d on her bour-woman,
That waiting was into[73] her train:
XXIV
‘Five thousand marks I’ll gie to thee,
To sleep this night with my lord for me.’--
XXV
[‘But will it for my ladye plead,
I’se be the bride in my ladye’s stead.’]--
XXVI
When bells were rung and mass was sayne,
And a’ men unto bed were gane,
XXVII
Cospatrick and the bonny maid
Into ae chamber they were laid.
XXVIII
‘Now speak to me, blankets, and speak to me, bed,
And speak, thou sheet, inchanted web,
XXIX
‘And speak, my brown sword, that winna lee[74],
Is this a leal maiden that lies by me?’
XXX
‘It is not a maid that you hae wedded,
But it is a maid that you hae bedded:
XXXI
‘It is a leal maiden that lies by thee,
But not the maiden that it should be.’
XXXII
Then out he sprang o’ his bridal bed,
And wrathfully his claiths on did:
XXXIII
And he has ta’en him through the ha’,
And on his mother he did ca’.
XXXIV
‘I am the most unhappy man
That ever was in Christen land:
XXXV
‘I courted a maiden meik and mild,
And I’ve gat but a woman great wi’ child.’--
XXXVI
‘O stay, my son, into this ha’,
And sport ye wi’ your merry men a’.
XXXVII
‘And I’ll gang to your painted bour,
To see how it fares wi’ your paramour.’
XXXVIII
The carline[75] queen was stark and strang
She gar’d the door flee aff the ban[76].
XXXIX
‘O is your bairn to laird or loun[77],
Or is it to your father’s groom?’--
XL
‘O hear me, mother, on my knee,
Till my sad story I tell to thee.
XLI
‘O we were sisters, sisters seven;
We were the fairest under heaven.
XLII
‘We had nae mair for our seven years’ wark
But to shape and sew the King’s son a sark.
XLIII
‘It fell on a summer’s afternoon,
When a’ our langsome task was done,
XLIV
‘We cast the kevils[78] us amang
To see which suld to the grene-wood gang.
XLV
‘Ohone, alas! for I was the youngest,
And aye my weird it was the hardest.
XLVI
‘The kevil it did on me fa’,
Which was the cause of a’ my wae.
XLVII
‘For to the grene-wood I must gae,
To pu’ the red rose and the slae;
XLVIII
‘To pu’ the red rose and the thyme
To deck my mother’s bour and mine.
XLIX
‘I hadna pu’d a flower but ane,
When by there came a gallant hende[79],
L
‘Wi’ high-coll’d[80] hose and laigh-coll’d shoon,
And he seem’d to be some Kingis son.
LI
‘And be I a maid, or be I nae,
He kept me there till the close o’ day:
LII
‘And be I a maid or be I nane,
He kept me there till the day was done.
LIII
‘He gae me a lock o’ his yellow hair,
And bade me keep it for ever mair:
LIV
‘He gae me a carknet[81] o’ bonny beads,
And bade me keep it against my needs.
LV
‘He gae to me a gay gold ring,
And bade me keep it abune a’ thing.
LVI
‘He gae to me a little pen-knife,
And bade me keep it as my life.’--
LVII
‘What did you wi’ the tokens rare
That ye got frae that gallant there?’--
LVIII
‘O bring that coffer here to me,
And a’ the tokens ye sall see.’
LIX
And aye she sought, and aye she flang[82]
Until these four things cam’ to her hand.
LX
‘Now stay here, daughter, your bour within,
Till I gae parley with my son.’
LXI
O she has ta’en her thro’ the ha’,
And on her son began to ca’.
LXII
‘What did you wi’ that gay gold ring
I bade you keep abune a’ thing?
LXIII
‘What did you wi’ that little pen-knife
I bade you keep while you had life?
LXIV
‘What did you wi’ the bonny beads
I bade you keep against your needs?’--
LXV
‘I gae them to a ladye gay
I met i’ the grene-wood on a day.
LXVI
‘But I wad gie a’ my ha’s and tours,
I had that bright burd in my bours:
LXVII
‘But I wad gie my very life
I had that ladye to my wife!’
LXVIII
‘Now keep, my son, your ha’s and tours;
Ye have that bright burd in your bours.
LXIX
‘And keep, my son, your very life,
Ye have that ladye to your wife.’
LXX
Now, or a month was come and gane,
The ladye bore him a bonny son.
LXXI
And it was well written on his breast-bane,
‘Cospatrick is my father’s name.’
LXXII
_O rowe[83] my ladye in satin and silk,
And wash my son in the morning milk!_
FOOTNOTES:
[69] bouted = bolted, sifted.
[70] paramour = _meaning here uncertain_.
[71] pall = fine cloth.
[72] yett = gate.
[73] into = in.
[74] lee = lie.
[75] carline = old woman.
[76] ban = band, hinge.
[77] laird or loun = squire or common fellow.
[78] kevils = lots.
[79] hende = courteous youth.
[80] high-coll’d, laigh-coll’d = high-cut, low-cut.
[81] carknet = necklace.
[82] flang = flung about, rummaged violently.
[83] rowe = roll, wrap.
_6. Willy’s Lady_
I
Sweet Willy’s ta’en him o’er the faem,
He’s woo’d a wife and brought her hame.
II
He’s woo’d her for her yellow hair,
But his mither wrought her mickle care;
III
And mickle dolour gar’d her drie[84],
For lighter[85] she can never be.
IV
But in her bower she sits wi’ pain,
And Willy mourns o’er her in vain.
V
And to his mither he has gane;
That vile rank witch of vilest kind.
VI
He says: ‘My ladie has a cup
Wi’ gowd and silver set about.
VII
‘This goodlie gift shall be your ain,
And let her be lighter o’ her young bairn.’--
VIII
‘Of her young bairn she’ll ne’er be lighter,
Nor in her bower to shine the brighter:
IX
‘But she shall die and turn to clay,
And you shall wed another may.’--
X
‘Another may I’ll marry nane,
Another may I’ll ne’er bring hame.’
XI
But sighing says his bonnie wife,
‘I wish this was an end o’ my life!
XII
‘Yet gae ye unto your mither again,
That vile rank witch of vilest kind.
XIII
‘And say: My ladie has a steed,
The like o’ him ’s no in the lands of Leed.
XIV
‘For at ilka tett[86] o’ that horse’s mane
There’s a golden chess[87] and a bell ringíng.
XV
‘This goodlie gift shall be your ain,
And let her be lighter o’ her young bairn.’--
XVI
‘O’ her young bairn she’ll ne’er be lighter,
Nor in her bower to shine the brighter;
XVII
‘But she shall die and turn to clay,
And ye shall wed another may.’--
XVIII
‘Another may I’ll marry nane,
Another may I’ll ne’er bring hame.’
XIX
But sighing says his bonnie wife,
‘I wish this was an end o’ my life!
XX
‘Yet gae ye unto your mither again,
That vile rank witch of vilest kind:
XXI
‘And say: My ladie has a girdle,
It’s a’ red gowd unto the middle.
XXII
‘And ay at every silver hem
Hangs fifty silver bells and ten.
XXIII
‘That goodlie gift shall be your ain,
But let her be lighter o’ her young bairn.’--
XXIV
‘O’ her young bairn she’s ne’er be lighter,
Nor in her bower to shine the brighter:
XXV
‘But she shall die and turn to clay,
And you shall wed another may.’--
XXVI
‘Another may I’ll never wed nane,
Another may I’ll never bring hame.’
XXVII
But sighing says his bonnie wife,
‘I wish this was an end o’ my life!’
XXVIII
Then out and spake the Billy Blind[88]--
He spake aye in a good time;
XXIX
‘Ye doe ye to the market-place,
And there buy ye a loaf o’ wax;
XXX
‘Ye shape it bairn and bairnly like,
And in twa glasses e’en ye’ll pit[89].
XXXI
‘And do ye to your mither then,
And bid her come to your boy’s christ’nen,
XXXII
‘For dear’s the boy he’s been to you:
Then notice weel what she shall do:
XXXIII
‘And do you stand a little away,
And listen weel what she shall say.’
XXXIV
He did him to the market-place,
And there he bought a loaf o’ wax.
XXXV
He shaped it bairn and bairnly-like,
And in ’t twa glasses e’en he pat[90].
XXXVI
He did him till his mither then,
And bade her to his boy’s christ’nen.
XXXVII
And he did stand a little forbye[91],
And noticed well what she did say.
XXXVIII
‘O wha has loosed the nine witch-knots
That was among that ladie’s locks?
XXXIX
‘And wha has ta’en out the kaims[92] o’ care
That hangs among that ladie’s hair?
XL
‘And wha’s ta’en down the bush o’ woodbine
That hangs atween her bower and mine?
XLI
‘And wha has kill’d the master kid
That ran aneath that ladie’s bed?
XLII
‘And wha has loosed her left-foot shee[93]
And letten that ladie lighter be?’
XLIII
Syne Willy has loosed the nine witch-knots
That was among his ladie’s locks:
XLIV
And Willy’s ta’en out the kaims o’ care
That hang among his ladie’s hair:
XLV
And Willy’s ta’en down the bush o’ woodbine
That hang atween her bower and thine:
XLVI
And Willy has kill’d the master kid
That ran aneath his ladie’s bed:
XLVII
And Willy has loosed her left-foot shee,
And letten his ladie lighter be.
XLVIII
And now he’s gotten a bonny young son,
And mickle grace be him upon!
FOOTNOTES:
[84] gar’d her drie = caused her to suffer.
[85] lighter = i. e. delivered of her child.
[86] tett = tuft.
[87] chess =? jess, strap.
[88] Billy Blind = a Brownie, or friendly House-spirit.
[89] pit = put.
[90] pat = did put.
[91] forbye = aside.
[92] kaims = combs.
[93] shee = shoe.
_7. The Queen of Elfland’s Nourice_
I
_‘I heard a cow low, a bonnie cow low,
And a cow low down in yon glen:
Lang, lang will my young son greet[94]
Or his mither bid him come ben[95]!_
II
_‘I heard a cow low, a bonnie cow low,
And a cow low down in yon fauld:
Lang, lang will my young son greet
Or his mither take him frae cauld!’_
III
[The Queen of Elfan’s nourice[96]
She sits and sings her lane]
‘Waken, Queen of Elfan
And hear your nourice moan.’--
IV
‘O moan ye for your meat,
Or moan ye for your fee,
Or moan ye for the ither bounties
That ladies are wont to gie?’--
V
‘I moan na for my meat,
Nor moan I for my fee,
Nor moan I for the ither bounties
That ladies are wont to gie.
VI
[‘But I heard a bonnie cow
Low down in yonder fauld]
And I moan for my young son
I left in four nights auld.
VII
‘I moan na for my meat,
Nor yet for my fee;
But I moan for Christen land;
It’s there I fain would be.’
VIII
‘O nurse my bairn, nourice,
Till he stan’ at your knee,
An ye’s win hame to Christen land
Whar fain it’s ye wad be.
IX
‘O keep my bairn, nourice,
Till he gang by the hauld[97],
An ye’s win hame to your young son
Ye left in four nights auld.
X
‘O nourice lay your head
[Here] upo’ my knee:
See ye not that narrow road
Up by yonder tree?
XI
[‘See ye not the narrow road
By yon lillie leven?]
That’s the road the righteous goes
And that’s the road to heaven.
XII
‘An’ see na ye that braid road
Down by yon sunny fell?
Yon’s the road the wicked gae,
An’ that’s the road to hell.
XIII
[‘An’ see na ye that bonny road
About the fernie brae?
That wins back frae Elfland
Where you must wait to gae.’]
FOOTNOTES:
[94] _greet_ = cry.
[95] _ben_ = to the inner room.
[96] nourice = nurse.
[97] gang by the hauld = walk by holding on to the hand.
_8. Lady Isabel and the Elf-Knight_
I
_My plaid awa’, my plaid awa’,
And o’er the hill and far awa’;
And far awa’ to Norrowa’,
My plaid shall not be blown awa’!_
II
Lady Isabel sits in her bower sewing,
_Aye as the gowans[98] grow gay_--
She heard an elf-knight his horn blawing,
The first morning in May.
III
The elfin-knight sits on yon hill,
He blaws his horn baith loud and shrill.
IV
He blaws it east, he blaws it west,
He blaws it where he lyketh best.
V
‘I wish that horn were in my kist[99],
Yea, and the knight in my arms niest[100].’
VI
She had no sooner these words said,
When that knight came to her bed.
VII
‘Thou art owre young a maid,’ quoth he,
‘Married with me thou ill wouldst be.’--
VIII
‘I have a sister younger than I,
And she was married yesterday.’--
IX
‘Married with me if thou wouldst be,
A courtesie thou must do to me.
X
‘For thou must shape a sark[101] to me
Without any cut or hem,’ quoth he.
XI
‘It’s ye maun shape it knife-and-shurlesse,
And also sew it needle-threedlesse.
XII
‘And ye maun wash it in yonder well,
Where the dew never wat[102] nor the rain never fell.
XIII
‘And ye maun dry it upon a thorn
That never budded sin Adam was born.’--
XIV
‘Now sin ye have asked some things o’ me,
It’s right I ask as mony o’ thee.
XV
‘My father he ask’d me an acre o’ land
Between the saut sea and the strand.
XVI
‘And ye maun are[103] it wi’ your blawin’ horn,
And ye maun sow it wi’ pepper corn.
XVII
‘And ye maun harrow it with ae tyne[104],
And ye maun shear it with ae horse bane.
XVIII
‘And ye maun stack it in yon mouse-hole,
And ye maun thresh it in yon shoe-sole.
XIX
‘And ye maun winnow it in your loof[105],
And ye maun sack it in your glove.
XX
‘And ye maun bring it owre the sea,
Fair and clean and dry to me.
XXI
‘And when ye’ve done an’ finish’d your wark,
Come to me, love, an’ get your sark.’
XXII
‘It’s I’ll not quit my plaid for my life;
It haps my seven bairns and my wife.’
_The wind sall not blaw my plaid awa’:_
‘And it’s I will keep me a maiden still,
Let the elfin knight do what he will’--
_The wind has not blawn my plaid awa’!_
FOOTNOTES:
[98] _gowans_ = daisies.
[99] kist = chest.
[100] niest = next.
[101] sark = shirt.
[102] wat = wetted.
[103] are = plough.
[104] ae tyne = one harrow-point.
[105] loof = palm.
_9. The Riddling Knight_
I
There were three sisters fair and bright,
_Jennifer, Gentle and Rosemary_,
And they three loved one valiant knight--
_As the dow[106] flies over the mulberry-tree_.
II
The eldest sister let him in,
And barr’d the door with a silver pin.
III
The second sister made his bed,
And placed soft pillows under his head.
IV
The youngest sister that same night
Was resolved for to wed wi’ this valiant knight.
V
‘And if you can answer questions three,
O then, fair maid, I’ll marry wi’ thee.
VI
‘O what is louder nor a horn,
Or what is sharper nor a thorn?
VII
‘Or what is heavier nor the lead,
Or what is better nor the bread?
VIII
‘Or what is longer nor the way,
Or what is deeper nor the sea?’--
IX
‘O shame is louder nor a horn,
And hunger is sharper nor a thorn.
X
‘O sin is heavier nor the lead,
The blessing’s better nor the bread.
XI
‘O the wind is longer nor the way
And love is deeper nor the sea.’
XII
[‘You have answer’d aright my questions three,]
_Jennifer, Gentle and Rosemary;_
And now, fair maid, I’ll marry wi’ thee,
_As the dow flies over the mulberry-tree._
FOOTNOTES:
[106] _dow_ = dove.
_10. May Colvin_
I
False Sir John a-wooing came
To a maid of beauty fair;
May Colvin was this lady’s name,
Her father’s only heir.
II
He woo’d her but[107], he woo’d her ben,
He woo’d her in the ha’;
Until he got the lady’s consent
To mount and ride awa’.
III
‘Go fetch me some of your father’s gold,
And some of your mother’s fee,
And I’ll carry you into the north land,
And there I’ll marry thee.’
IV
She’s gane to her father’s coffers
Where all his money lay,
And she’s taken the red, and she’s left the white,
And so lightly she’s tripp’d away.
V
She’s gane to her father’s stable
Where all the steeds did stand,
And she’s taken the best, and she’s left the warst
That was in her father’s land.
VI
She’s mounted on a milk-white steed,
And he on a dapple-grey,
And on they rade to a lonesome part,
A rock beside the sea.
VII
‘Loup[108] off the steed,’ says false Sir John,
‘Your bridal bed you see;
Seven ladies I have drownèd here,
And the eight’ one you shall be.
VIII
‘Cast off, cast off your silks so fine
And lay them on a stone,
For they are too fine and costly
To rot in the salt sea foam.
IX
‘Cast off, cast off your silken stays,
For and your broider’d shoon,
For they are too fine and costly
To rot in the salt sea foam.
X
‘Cast off, cast off your Holland smock
That’s border’d with the lawn,
For it is too fine and costly
To rot in the salt sea foam.’--
XI
‘O turn about, thou false Sir John,
And look to the leaf o’ the tree;
For it never became a gentleman
A naked woman to see.’
XII
He turn’d himself straight round about
To look to the leaf o’ the tree;
She’s twined her arms about his waist
And thrown him into the sea.
XIII
‘O hold a grip o’ me, May Colvín,
For fear that I should drown;
I’ll take you home to your father’s bower
And safe I’ll set you down.’
XIV
‘No help, no help, thou false Sir John,
No help, no pity thee!
For you lie not in a caulder bed
Than you thought to lay me.’
XV
She mounted on her milk-white steed,
And led the dapple-grey,
And she rode till she reach’d her father’s gate,
At the breakin’ o’ the day.
XVI
Up then spake the pretty parrot,
‘May Colvin, where have you been?
What has become o’ false Sir John
That went with you yestreen?’--
XVII
‘O hold your tongue, my pretty parrot!
Nor tell no tales o’ me;
Your cage shall be made o’ the beaten gold
And the spokes o’ ivorie.’
XVIII
Up then spake her father dear,
In the bed-chamber where he lay;
‘What ails the pretty parrot,
That prattles so long ere day?’--
XIX
‘There came a cat to my cage, master,
I thought ’t would have worried me,
And I was calling to May Colvín
To take the cat from me.’
FOOTNOTES:
[107] but, ben = both in the outer and inner rooms.
[108] loup = leap.
_11. The Wee Wee Man_
I
As I was walking mine alane
Atween a water and a wa’,
There I spied a wee wee man,
And he was the least that ere I saw.
II
His legs were scant a shathmont’s[109] length,
And thick and thimber[110] was his thie[111];
Atween his brows there was a span,
And atween his shoulders there was three.
III
He’s ta’en and flung a meikle stane,
And he flang ’t as far as I could see;
Though I had been a Wallace wight
I couldna liften ’t to my knee.
IV
‘O wee wee man, but ye be strang!
O tell me where your dwelling be?’
‘My dwelling’s down by yon bonny bower;
Fair lady, come wi’ me and see.’
V
On we lap[112], and awa’ we rade,
Till we came to yon bonny green;
We lighted down to bait our steed,
And out there came a lady sheen[113];
VI
Wi’ four and twenty at her back
A’ comely clad in glisterin’ green;
Tho’ the King of Scotland had been there,
The warst o’ them might ha’ been his queen.
VII
On we lap, and awa’ we rade,
Till we came to a bonny ha’;
The roof was o’ the beaten gowd,
And the floor was o’ the cristal a’.
VIII
When we came to the stair-foot,
Ladies were dancing jimp[114] and sma’,
But in the twinkling of an eie
My wee wee man was clean awa’.
IX
Out gat the lights, on came the mist,
Ladies nor mannie mair cou’d I see:
I turn’d about, and gae a look
Just at the foot o’ Benachie.
FOOTNOTES:
[109] shathmont = measure from the point of the extended thumb to the
extremity of the palm, six inches.
[110] thimber = stout.
[111] thie = thigh.
[112] lap = leapt.
[113] sheen = shining, beautiful.
[114] jimp = slim, slender.
_12. Alison Gross_
I
O Alison Gross, that lives in yon tow’r,
The ugliest witch i’ the north countrie,
Has trysted[115] me ae day up till her bow’r
And mony fair speeches she made to me.
II
She straik’d my head an’ she kaim’d my hair,
An’ she set me down saftly on her knee;
Says, ‘Gin ye will be my lemman sae true,
Sae mony braw things as I would you gie!’
III
She show’d me a mantle o’ red scarlét,
Wi’ gouden flowers an’ fringes fine;
Says, ‘Gin ye will be my lemman[116] sae true,
This gudely gift it sall be thine.’--
IV
‘Awa’, awa’, ye ugly witch,
Haud[117] far awa’, an’ lat me be!
I never will be your lemman sae true,
An’ I wish I were out o’ your company.’
V
She neist brought a sark o’ the saftest silk,
Well wrought wi’ pearls about the band;
Says, ‘Gin ye will be my lemman sae true,
This gudely gift ye sall command.’
VI
She show’d me a cup o’ the good red gowd,
Well set wi’ jewels sae fair to see;
Says, ‘Gin ye will be my lemman sae true,
This gudely gift I will you gie.’--
VII
‘Awa’, awa’, ye ugly witch,
Haud far awa’, an’ lat me be!
For I wouldna once kiss your ugly mouth
For a’ the gifts that ye could gie.’
VIII
She’s turn’d her right an’ roun’ about,
An’ thrice she blaw on a grass-green horn;
An’ she sware by the moon an’ the stars abune
That she’d gar me rue the day I was born.
IX
Then out has she ta’en a silver wand,
An’ she’s turn’d her three times roun’ and roun’;
She mutter’d sic words till my strength it fail’d,
An’ I fell down senseless upon the groun’.
X
She’s turn’d me into an ugly worm,
And gar’d me toddle about the tree;
An’ ay, on ilka Saturday’s night,
My sister Maisry came to me,
XI
Wi’ silver bason an’ silver kaim
To kaim my headie upon her knee;
But or I had kiss’d [wi’ Alison Gross]
I’d sooner ha’ toddled about the tree.
XII
But as it fell out, on last Hallowe’en,
When the Seely Court[118] was ridin’ by,
The Queen lighted down on a gowany[119] bank
Nae far frae the tree where I wont to lye.
XIII
She took me up in her milk-white han’,
An’ she’s straik’d me three times o’er her knee;
She changed me again to my ain proper shape,
An’ nae mair I toddle about the tree.
FOOTNOTES:
[115] trysted = invited.
[116] lemman = sweetheart.
[117] haud = hold, keep.
[118] Seely Court = the Happy Court (of the Fairies).
[119] gowany = daisied.
_13. Kemp Owyne_
I
Her mother died when she was young,
Which gave her cause to make great moan;
Her father married the warst woman
That ever lived in Christendom.
II
She servèd her wi’ foot and hand
In everything that she could dee[120],
Till once, in an unlucky time
She threw her owre a craig[121] o’ the sea.
III
Says, ‘Lie you there, dove Isabel,
And all my sorrows lie wi’ thee!
Till Kemp[122] Owyne come to the craig,
And borrow[123] you wi’ kisses three.’
IV
Her breath grew strang, her hair grew lang
And twisted thrice about the tree,
And all the people, far and near,
Thought that a savage beast was she.
V
And aye she cried for Kemp Owyne
Gin that he would but com’ to her hand:--
Now word has gane to Kemp Owyne
That siccan[124] a beast was in his land.
VI
‘Now by my sooth,’ says Kemp Owyne,
‘This fiery beast I’ll gang to see’;
‘And by my sooth,’ says Segramour,
‘My ae brother, I’ll gang you wi’.’
VII
O they have biggit[125] a bonny boat,
And they have set her to the sea;
But a mile before they reach’d the shore
I wot she gar’d[126] the red fire flee.
VIII
‘O brother, keep my boat afloat,
An’ lat her na the land so near!
For the wicked beast she’ll sure go mad,
An’ set fire to the land an’ mair.’
IX
Syne he has bent an arblast bow
And aim’d an arrow at her head,
And swore, if she didna quit the land,
Wi’ that same shaft to shoot her dead.
X
‘O out o’ my stythe[127] I winna rise--
And it is na for the fear o’ thee--
Till Kemp Owyne, the kingis son,
Come to the craig an’ thrice kiss me.’
XI
Her breath was strang, her hair was lang
And twisted thrice about the tree,
And with a swing she came about:
‘Come to the craig, an’ kiss with me!
XII
‘Here is a royal belt,’ she cried,
‘That I have found in the green sea;
And while your body it is on,
Drawn shall your blood never be;
But if you touch me, tail or fin,
I swear my belt your death shall be.’
XIII
He’s louted[128] him o’er the Eastmuir craig,
As out she swang and about the tree;
He steppèd in, gave her a kiss,
The royal belt he brought him wi’.
XIV
Her breath was strang, her hair was lang
And twisted twice about the tree,
As awa’ she gid[129], and again she swang--
‘Come to the craig, an’ kiss with me!
XV
‘Here is a royal ring,’ she said,
‘That I have found in the green sea;
And while your finger it is on,
Drawn shall your blood never be;
But if you touch me, tail or fin,
I swear my ring your death shall be.’
XVI
He’s louted him o’er the Eastmuir craig,
As out she swang and about the tree;
He steppèd in, gave her a kiss,
The royal ring he brought him wi’.
XVII
Her breath was strang, her hair was lang
And twisted ance about the tree,
As awa’ she gid and again she swang--
‘Come to the craig, an’ kiss with me!
XVIII
‘Here is a royal brand,’ she said,
‘That I have found in the green sea;
And while your body it is on,
Drawn shall your blood never be;
But if you touch me, tail or fin,
I swear my brand your death shall be.’
XIX
He’s louted him o’er the Eastmuir craig,
As out she swang and about the tree;
He steppèd in, gave her a kiss
That royal brand he brought him wi’.
XX
Her breath was sweet, her hair grew short,
And twisted nane about the tree,
As awa’ she gid and again she came
The fairest lady that ever could be.
XXI
‘O was it a wer-wolf into[130] the wood,
Or was it a mermaid into the sea,
Or was it a man or a vile woman,
My true love, that mis-shapit thee?’--
XXII
‘It was na wer-wolf into the wood,
Nor was it mermaid into the sea,
But and it was my vile stepmother,
And wae and weary mote she be!
XXIII
‘O a heavier weird shall light her on,
Her hair sall grow rough an’ her teeth grow lang,
And [aye] on her four feet sall she gang,
And aye in Wormeswood sall she won[131]!’
FOOTNOTES:
[120] dee = do.
[121] craig = rock.
[122] Kemp = champion, knight.
[123] borrow = ransom.
[124] siccan = such.
[125] biggit = built.
[126] gar’d = made.
[127] stythe = place, station.
[128] louted = bowed.
[129] gid = went.
[130] into = in.
[131] won = dwell.
_14. The Laily Worm_
_and the Machrel of the Sea_
I
‘I was but seven year auld
When my mither she did dee;
My father married the ae warst woman
The warld did ever see.
II
‘For she has made me the laily[132] worm,
That lies at the fit o’ the tree,
An’ my sister Masery she’s made
The machrel of the sea.
III
‘An’ every Saturday at noon
The machrel comes to me,
An’ she takes my laily head
An’ lays it on her knee,
She kaims it wi’ a siller kaim,
An’ washes ’t in the sea.
IV
‘Seven knights hae I slain,
Sin I lay at the fit of the tree,
An’ ye war na my ain father,
The eighth ane ye should be.’--
V
‘Sing on your song, ye laily worm,
That ye did sing to me.’--
‘I never sung that song but what
I would sing it to thee.
VI
‘I was but seven year auld,
When my mither she did dee;
My father married the ae warst woman
The warld did ever see.
VII
‘For she changed me to the laily worm,
That lies at the fit o’ the tree,
And my sister Masery
To the machrel of the sea.
VIII
‘And every Saturday at noon
The machrel comes to me,
An’ she takes my laily head
An’ lays it on her knee,
An’ kames it wi’ a siller kame,
An’ washes it i’ the sea.
IX
‘Seven knights hae I slain
Sin I lay at the fit o’ the tree;
An’ ye war na my ain father,
The eighth ane ye should be.’
X
He sent for his lady,
As fast as send could he:
‘Whar is my son that ye sent frae me,
And my daughter, Lady Masery?’--
XI
‘Your son is at our king’s court,
Serving for meat an’ fee,
An’ your daughter’s at our queen’s court,
The queen’s maiden to be.’--
XII
‘Ye lee, ye lee, ye ill woman,
Sae loud as I hear ye lee;
My son’s the laily worm,
That lies at the fit o’ the tree,
And my daughter, Lady Masery,
Is the machrel of the sea!’
XIII
She has tane a siller wan’,
An’ gi’en him strokès three,
And he’s started up the bravest knight
That ever your eyes did see.
XIV
She has ta’en a small horn,
An’ loud an’ shrill blew she,
An’ a’ the fish came her untill
But the machrel of the sea:
‘Ye shapeit me ance an unseemly shape,
An’ ye’s never mare shape me.’
XV
He has sent to the wood
For whins and for hawthorn,
An’ he has ta’en that gay lady,
An’ there he did her burn.
FOOTNOTES:
[132] laily = loathly.
_15. King Orfeo_
_A Shetland Ballad._
I
Der lived a king inta da aste[133],
_Scowan ürla grün_[134]
Der lived a lady in da wast.
_Whar giorten han grün oarlac._[135]
II
Dis king he has a huntin gaen,
He’s left his Lady Isabel alane.
III
‘Oh I wis ye’d never gaen away,
For at your hame is döl an wae.
IV
‘For da king o Ferrie we his daert,
Has pierced your lady to da hert.’
* * * * *
V
And aifter dem da king has gaen,
But when he cam it was a grey stane.
VI
Dan he took oot his pipes ta play,
Bit sair his hert wi döl an wae.
VII
And first he played da notes o noy[136],
An dan he played da notes o joy.
VIII
An dan he played da göd gabber reel[137],
Dat meicht ha made a sick hert hale.
* * * * *
IX
‘Noo come ye in inta wir[138] ha’,
An come ye in among wis[139] a’.’
X
Now he’s gaen in inta der ha’,
An he’s gaen in among dem a’.
XI
Dan he took out his pipes to play,
Bit sair his hert wi döl an wae.
XII
An first he played da notes o noy,
An dan he played da notes o joy.
XIII
An dan he played da göd gabber reel,
Dat meicht ha made a sick hert hale.
XIV
‘Noo tell to us what ye will hae:
What sall we gie you for your play?’--
XV
‘What I will hae I will you tell,
An dat’s me Lady Isabel.’--
XVI
‘Yees tak your lady, an yees gaeng hame,
An yees be king ower a’ your ain.’
XVII
He’s taen his lady, an he’s gaen hame,
An noo he’s king ower a’ his ain.
FOOTNOTES:
[133] aste = east.
[134] _Scowan_ &c. = Early green’s the wood.
[135] _giorten_ &c. = Where the hart goes yearly.
[136] noy = grief.
[137] göd gabber reel = the rollicking dance-tune.
[138] wir = our.
[139] wis = us.
_16. King Henry_
I
Let never a man a wooing wend
That lacketh thingis three;
A routh[140] o’ gold, an open heart
And fu’ o’ courtesye.
II
As this I speak of King Henry,
For he lay burd-alone[141];
An’ he’s doen him to a jelly[142] hunt’s ha’
Was seven mile frae a town.
III
He’s chased the deer down him before,
An’ the roe down by the den,
Till the fattest buck in a’ the flock
King Henry he has slain.
IV
O he has doen him to his ha’
To make him bierly[143] cheer;
An’ in it came a griesly ghost
Steed stappin’ i’ the fleer[144].
V
Her head hat[145] the roof-tree o’ the house,
Her middle ye weel mot[146] span;
He’s thrown to her his gay mantle,
Says, ‘Lady, hap[147] your lingcan[148].’
VI
Her teeth were a’ like teather stakes[149],
Her nose like club or mell[150];
An’ I ken naething she ’pear’d to be
But the fiend that wons[151] in hell.
VII
‘Some meat, some meat, ye King Henry,
Some meat ye gie to me!’--
‘An’ what meat’s in this house, ladye,
That ye’re not welcome tae?’--
‘O ye’se gae[152] kill your berry-brown steed,
And serve him up to me.’
VIII
O whan he slew his berry-brown steed,
Wow but his heart was sair!
She ate him a’ up, skin an’ bane,
Left naething but hide an’ hair.
IX
‘Mair meat, mair meat, ye King Henry,
Mair meat ye gie to me!’--
‘An’ what meat’s in this house, ladye,
That ye’re not welcome tae?’--
‘O do ye slay your good grey-hounds
An’ bring them a’ to me.’
X
O whan he slew his good grey-hounds,
Wow but his heart was sair!
She ate them a’ up, skin an’ bane,
Left naething but hide an’ hair.
XI
‘Mair meat, mair meat, ye King Henry,
Mair meat ye gie to me!’--
‘An’ what meat’s in this house, ladye,
That ye’re not welcome tae?’--
‘O do ye kill your gay goss-hawks
An’ bring them a’ to me.’
XII
O whan he fell’d his gay goss-hawks,
Wow but his heart was sair!
She’s ate them a’ up, skin an’ bane,
Left naethin’ but feathers bare.
XIII
‘Some drink, some drink, now, King Henry,
Some drink ye bring to me!’--
‘O what drink’s in this house, ladye,
That ye’re not welcome tae?’--
‘O ye sew up your horse’s hide,
An’ bring in drink to me.’
XIV
O he’s sew’d up the bluidy hide,
A puncheon o’ wine put in;
She’s drunk it a’ up at a waught[153],
Left na ae drap ahin’[154].
XV
‘A bed, a bed, now King Henry,
A bed ye’se mak’ to me!’--
‘An’ what’s the bed in this house, ladye,
That ye’re not welcome tae?’--
‘O ye maun pu’ the heather green,
An’ mak’ a bed to me.’
XVI
Syne pu’d he has the heather green,
An’ made to her a bed,
An’ up has he ta’en his gay mantle,
An’ o’er it he has spread.
XVII
‘Tak’ off your claiths now, King Henry,
An’ lie down by my side!’--
‘O God forbid,’ says King Henry,
‘That ever the like betide;
That ever a fiend that wons in hell
Shou’d streak[155] down by my side!’
XVIII
But whan day was come, and night was gane,
An’ the sun shone thro’ the ha’,
The fairest ladye that ever was seen
[Cam’ to his armès twa].
XIX
‘O weel is me!’ says King Henry,
‘How lang’ll this last wi’ me?’
Then out an’ spake that fair ladye,
‘Even till the day you dee.
XX
‘For I’ve met wi’ many a gentle knight
That’s gien me sic a fill;
But never before wi’ a courteous knight
That ga’e me a’ my will.’
FOOTNOTES:
[140] routh = plenty.
[141] burd-alone = lone as a maid.
[142] jelly = jolly, jovial.
[143] bierly = stout, handsome.
[144] fleer = floor.
[145] hat = hit.
[146] mot = might.
[147] hap = cover.
[148] lingcan _for_ lycam = body.
[149] teather stakes = tether pegs.
[150] mell = mallet.
[151] wons = dwells.
[152] ye’se gae = you shall go.
[153] waught = draught.
[154] ahin’ = behind.
[155] streak = stretch.
_17. The Boy and the Mantle_
_A Ballad of King Arthur’s Court._
I
In the third day of May
To Carleile did come
A kind curteous child
That co’ld[156] much of wisdome.
II
A kirtle and a mantle
This child had uppon,
With brauches and ringes
Full richelye bedone[157].
III
He had a sute of silke
About his middle drawne;
Without he co’ld of curtesye
He thought it much shame.
IV
‘God speed thee, King Arthur,
Sitting at thy meate;
And the goodly Queene Guenever!
I cannot her forget.
V
‘I tell you, lords in this hall,
I hett[158] you all heed,
Except you be the more surer
Is for you to dread.’
VI
He pluck’d out of his potener[159],
And longer wo’ld not dwell,
He pull’d forth a pretty mantle
Betweene two nut-shells.
VII
‘Have thou here, King Arthur,
Have thou here of mee:
Give itt to thy comely queene
Shapen as itt is alreadye.
VIII
‘Itt shall never become that wiffe
That hath once done amisse.’
Then every knight in the king’s court
Began to care[160] for his.
IX
Forth came dame Guenever,
To the mantle she her bed[161];
The ladye shee was new fangle[162]
But yett she was affrayd.
X
When shee had taken the mantle,
She stoode as shee had beene madd;
It was from the top to the toe
As sheeres had it shread.
XI
One while was it gaule[163],
Another while was itt greene,
Another while was it wadded[164];
Ill itt did her beseeme.
XII
Another while it was blacke,
And bore the worst hue:
‘By my troth,’ quoth King Arthur,
‘I thinke thou be not true.’
XIII
Shee threw downe the mantle,
That bright was of blee[165];
Fast with a rudd red
To her chamber can[166] she flee.
XIV
She cursed the weaver and the walker[167]
That cloth that had wrought,
And bade a vengeance on his crowne
That hither hath itt brought.
XV
‘I had rather be in a wood,
Under a greenè tree,
Than in King Arthur’s court
Shamèd for to bee.’
XVI
Kay call’d forth his ladye
And bade her come neere;
Saies, ‘Madam, and thou be guiltye
I pray thee hold thee here.’
XVII
Forth came his ladye
Shortlye and anon;
Boldlye to the mantle
Then is she gone.
XVIII
When she had tane the mantle,
And her about it cast
Then was she bare
All unto the waist.
XIX
Then every knight
That was in the King’s court
Talk’d, laugh’d and showted
Full oft att that sport.
XX
She threw down the mantle
That bright was of blee,
Fast with a red rudd[168]
To her chamber can she flee.
XXI
Forth came an old Knight
Pattering ore a creede,
And he proferr’d to this little Boy
Twenty markes to his meede;
XXII
And all the time of Christmasse
Willingly to ffeede;
For why[169] this mantle might
Doe his wiffe some need.
XXIII
When shee had tane the mantle
Of cloth that was made,
Shee had no more left on her
But a tassell and a threed:
That every knight in the King’s court
Bade evill might shee speed.
XXIV
She threw downe the mantle,
That bright was of blee,
Fast with a red rudd
To her chamber can she flee.
XXV
Craddocke call’d forth his ladye
And bade her come in;
Saith, ‘Winne this mantle, ladye,
With a little dinne[170].
XXVI
‘Winne this mantle, ladye,
And it shal be thine
If thou never did amisse
Since thou wast mine.’
XXVII
Forth came Craddocke’s ladye
Shortlye and anon,
But boldlye to the mantle
Then is shee gone.
XXVIII
When she had tane the mantle
And cast it her about,
Up at her great toe
It began to crinkle and crowt[171]:
Shee said, ‘Bowe downe, mantle,
And shame me not for nought.
XXIX
‘Once I did amisse,
I tell you certainlye,
When Craddocke’s mouth I kist
Under a greenè tree;
When I kist Craddocke’s mouth
Before he marryed mee.’
XXX
When shee had her shreeven[172]
And her sinnes shee had tolde,
The mantle stood about her
Right as she wo’ld;
XXXI
Seemelye of coulour,
Glittering like gold
Then every knight in Arthur’s court
Did her behold.
* * * * *
XXXII
The little Boy stoode
Looking over a dore;
[There as he look’d
He was ware of a wyld bore.]
XXXIII
He was ware of a wyld bore
Wo’ld have werryed[173] a man:
He pull’d forth a wood-kniffe
Fast thither that he ran:
He brought in the bore’s head
And quitted him like a man.
XXXIV
He brought in the bore’s head,
And was wonderous bold;
He said there was never a cuckold’s kniffe
Carve itt that co’ld.
XXXV
Some rubb’d their knives
Uppon a whetstone;
Some threw them under the table,
And said they had none.
XXXVI
King Arthur and the child
Stood looking them upon;
All their knives’ edges
Turnèd backe againe.
XXXVII
Craddocke had a litle kniffe
Of iron and of steele;
He birtled[174] the bore’s head
Wonderous weale,
That every knight in the King’s court
Had a morssell.
XXXVIII
The litle Boy had a horne,
Of red gold that ronge[175];
He said, ‘There was noe cuckolde
Shall drinke of my horne,
But he sho’ld itt sheede[176]
Either behind or beforne.’
XXXIX
Some shedd it on their shoulder
And some on their knee;
He that co’ld not hitt his mouth
Put it in his e’e;
And he that was a cuckold
Every man might him see.
XL
Craddocke wan the horne
And the bore’s head;
His ladye wan the mantle
Unto her meede;
Everye such a lovely ladye
God send her well to speede!
FOOTNOTES:
[156] co’ld = could, knew.
[157] bedone = adorned.
[158] hett = bid.
[159] potener = pouch, purse.
[160] care = bethink him.
[161] bed = bid, offered.
[162] new fangle = capricious.
[163] gaule = gules, red.
[164] wadded = of woad colour, blue.
[165] blee = hue.
[166] can = did.
[167] walker = fuller.
[168] rudd = complexion.
[169] For why = because.
[170] dinne = noise, i. e. ado.
[171] crowt = pucker.
[172] shreeven = shriven, confessed.
[173] werryed = worried.
[174] birtled = brittled, cut up.
[175] ronge = rung, resounded.
[176] sheede = shed, spill.
_18. King Arthur and King Cornwall_
_A Fragment_
King Arthur of Little Britain unwisely boasts the beauty of his famous
Round Table.
I
Saies, ‘Come here, cuzen Gawaine so gay,
My sisters sonne be yee;
Ffor you shall see one of the fairest round tables
That ever you see with your eye.’
II
Then bespake Lady Queen Guenever,
And these were the words said shee:
‘I know where a round table is, thou noble king,
Is worth thy round table and other such three.
III
‘The trestle that stands under this round table,’ she said,
‘Lowe downe to the mould,
It is worth thy round table, thou worthy king,
Thy halls, and all thy gold.
IV
‘The place where this round table stands in,
[Is fencèd round amaine]
It is worth thy castle, thy gold, thy fee,
And all good Litle Britaine.’
V
‘Where may that table be, lady?’ quoth hee,
‘Or where may all that goodly building be?’
‘You shall it seeke,’ shee says, ‘till you it find;
You shall never gett more of me.’
VI
Then bespake him noble King Arthur
These were the words said hee:
‘I’le make mine avow to God,
And alsoe to the Trinity,
VII
‘I’le never sleepe one night there as I doe another
’Till that round table I see:
Sir Marramiles and Sir Tristeram,
Fellowes that ye shall bee.
VIII
[‘Sir Gawaine and Sir Bredbettle
Be fellowes eke with me,]
Weele be clad in palmers’ weede,
Five palmers we will bee;
IX
‘There is noe outlandish man will us abide,
Nor will us come nye.’
Then they rived[177] east and they rived west,
In many a strange countrỳ.
X
Then they tranckled[178] a litle further,
They saw a battle new sett:
‘Now, by my faith,’ saies noble King Arthur,
[‘These armies be well met.’]
After travelling in many strange lands they arrive at the castle of
King Cornwall, not a great way from home.
XI
But when he cam to this [Cornwall castle]
And to the palace gate,
Soe ready was ther a proud portèr,
And met him soone therat.
XII
Shooes of gold the porter had on,
And all his other rayment was unto the same:
‘Now, by my faith,’ saies noble King Arthur,
‘Yonder is a minion swaine.’
XIII
Then bespake noble King Arthur,
These were the words says hee:
‘Come thou hither, thou proud portèr,
I pray thee come hither to me.
XIV
‘I have two poore rings, of my finger,
The better of them I’le give to thee;
Tell who may be lord of this castle,
Or who is lord in this cuntry?’
XV
‘Cornewall King,’ the porter sayes,
‘There is none soe rich as hee;
Neither in christendome, nor yet in heathendom,
None hath soe much gold as he.’
XVI
And then bespake him noble King Arthur,
These were the words sayes hee:
‘I have two poore rings of my finger,
The better of them I’le give thee,
If thou wilt greete him well, Cornewall King,
And greete him well from me.
XVII
‘Pray him for one night’s lodging and two meales’ meate,
For his love that dyed uppon a tree;
Of one ghesting[179] and two meales’ meate,
For his love that dyed uppon tree.
XVIII
‘Of one ghesting, of two meales’ meate,
For his love that was of virgin borne,
And in the morning that we may scape away,
Either without scath or scorne.’
XIX
Then forth is gone this proud portèr,
As fast as he co’ld hye,
And when he came befor Cornewall King,
He kneelèd downe on his knee.
XX
Sayes, ‘I have beene porter-man at thy gate
This thirty winter and three,
[But there is ffive knights before itt now,
The like I never did see.’]
King Cornwall questioning the strangers, they happen to speak of a
certain shrine of Our Lady, from which he gathers that they have been
in Little Britain. This leads him to question them concerning King
Arthur.
XXI
* * * * *
Our Lady was borne; then thought Cornewall King
‘These palmers had beene in Brittaine.’
XXII
Then bespake him Cornewall King,
These were the words he said there:
‘Did you ever know a comely king,
His name was King Arthùr?’
XXIII
And then bespake him noble King Arthùr,
These were the words said hee:
‘I doe not know that comly king,
But once my selfe I did him see.’
Then bespake Cornewall King againe,
These were the words said he:
XXIV
Sayes, ‘Seven yeere I was clad and fed,
In Litle Brittaine, in a bower;
I had a daughter by King Arthur’s wife,
That now is called my flower;
For King Arthur, that kindly cockward,
Hath none such in his bower.
XXV
‘For I durst sweare, and save my othe,
That same lady soe bright,
That a man that were laid on his death bed
Wo’ld open his eyes on her to have sight.’--
‘Now, by my faith,’ sayes noble King Arthur,
‘And that’s a full faire wight!’
XXVI
And then bespake Cornewall [King] againe,
And these were the words he said:
‘Come hither, five or three of my knights,
And feitch me downe my steed;
King Arthur, that foule cockeward,
Hath none such, if he had need.
XXVII
‘For I can ryde him as far on a day
As King Arthur can any of his on three;
And is it not a pleasure for a king
When he shall ryde forth on his journèy?
XXVIII
‘For the eyes that beene in his head,
They glister as doth the gleed[180].’
‘Now, by my faith,’ says noble King Arthur,
‘That is a well faire steed.’
After showing them other of his possessions, King Cornwall has the
strangers conducted to bed; but first takes the precaution to conceal
the Burlow Beanie, or Billy Blind--friendly household spirit--in
a rubbish-barrel by the bedside, to listen and overhear their
conversation.
XXX
Then King Arthur to his bed was brought,
A greivèd man was hee;
And soe were all his fellowes with him.
From him they thought never to flee.
XXXI
Then take they did that lodly[181] groome,
And under the rub-chadler[182] closed was hee,
And he was set by King Arthur’s bed-side,
To heere theire talke and theire comunye;
XXXII
That he might come forth, and make proclamation,
Long before it was day;
It was more for King Cornewall’s pleasure,
Then it was for King Arthur’s pay[183].
XXXIII
And when King Arthur in his bed was laid,
These were the words said hee:
‘I’le make mine avow to God,
And alsoe to the Trinity,
That I’le be the bane of Cornewall Kinge
Litle Brittaine or ever I see!’
XXXIV
‘It is an unadvised vow,’ saies Gawaine the gay,
‘As ever king hard make I;
But wee that beene five christian men,
Of the christen faith are wee,
And we shall fight against anoynted king
And all his armorie.’
XXXV
And then bespake him noble Arthur,
And these were the words said he:
‘Why, if thou be afraid, Sir Gawaine the gay,
Goe home, and drinke wine in thine owne country.’
XXXVI
And then bespake Sir Gawaine the gay,
And these were the words said hee:
‘Nay, seeing you have made such a hearty vow,
Heere another vow make will I.
XXXVII
‘I’le make mine avow to God,
And alsoe to the Trinity,
That I will have yonder faire lady
To Litle Brittaine with mee.
While they lie talking, an unguarded movement of the sprite in the
barrel leads to his discovery. Then follows a great combat.
XXXIX
[O then bespake Sir Tristram,]
These were the words sayd hee:
‘Befor I wold wrestle with yonder feend,
It is better to be drown’d in the sea.’
XL
And then bespake Sir Bredbeddle,
And these were the words said he
‘Why, I will wrestle with yon lodly feend,
God, my governor thou wilt bee!’
XLI
Then bespake him noble Arthur,
And these were the words said he:
‘What weapons wilt thou have, thou gentle knight?
I pray thee tell to me.’
XLII
He sayes, ‘Collen brand[184] I’le have in my hand,
And a Millaine[185] knife fast by my knee,
And a Danish axe fast in my hands,
That a sure weapon I thinke will be.’
XLIII
Then with his Collen brand that he had in his hand,
The bunge of that rub-chandler he burst in three;
With that start out a lodly feend,
With seven heads, and one body.
XLIV
The fyer towards the element[186] flew,
Out of his mouth, where was great plentie;
The knight stoode in the middle and fought,
That it was great joy to see.
XLV
Till his Collaine brand brake in his hand,
And his Millaine knife burst on his knee,
And then the Danish axe burst in his hand first,
That a sure weapon he thought sho’ld be.
XLVI
But now is the knight left without any weapons,
And alacke! it was the more pittye;
But a surer weapon then he had one,
Had neuer lord in Christentye;
And all was but one litle booke,
He found it by the side of the sea.
XLVII
He found it at the sea-side,
Wruckèd upp in a floode;
Our Lord had written it with his hands,
And sealed it with his bloode.
With this book of Evangiles Sir Bredbittle, otherwise the Green Knight,
overcomes the sprite, and having conjured him into a wall of stone,
returns with report to King Arthur.
XLVIII
[Saies] ‘That thou doe not [stir a foot]
But ly still in that wall of stone,
Till I have beene with noble King Arthur,
And told him what I have done.’
XLIX
And when he came to the king’s chamber,
He co’ld of his curtesie:
Says, ‘Sleepe you, wake you, noble King Arthur?
And ever Jesus waken yee!’
L
‘Nay, I am not sleeping, I am waking,’
These were the words said hee;
‘Ffor thee I have car’d; how hast thou fared?
O gentle knight, let me see.’
LI
The knight wrought the king his booke,
Bad him behold, reede and see;
And ever he found it on the back of the leafe
As noble Arthur wo’ld wish it to be.
LII
And then bespake him King Arthur,
‘Alas! thow gentle knight, how may this be,
That I might see him in the same licknesse
That he stood unto thee?’
LIII
And then bespake him the Greene Knight,
These were the words said hee:
‘If you’le stand stifly in the battell stronge,
For I have won all the victory.’
LIV
Then bespake him the king againe,
And these were the words said hee:
‘If wee stand not stifly in this battell strong,
Wee are worthy to be hang’d on a tree.’
LV
Then bespake him the Greene Knight,
These were the words said he:
Saies, ‘I doe conjure thee, thou fowle feend,
In the same licknesse thou stood unto me.’
LVI
With that start out a lodly feend,
With seven heads, and one bodỳ;
The fier towards the element flew
Out of his mouth, where was great plentie.
But now with the aid of the book Sir Bredbittle has the fiend wholly at
command. He is sent first to fetch the steed.
LIX
And then bespake him the Greene Knight,
And these were the words said he:
Saith, ‘I conjure thee, thou fowle feend,
That thou feitch downe the steed, that we see.’
LX
And then forth is gone Burlow-beanie,
As fast as he co’ld hie,
And feitch he did that fairè steed,
And came againe by and by.
LXI
Then bespake him Sir Marramiles,
And these were the words said hee:
‘Ryding of this steed, brother Bredbeddle,
The mastery belongs to me.’
LXII
Marramiles tooke the steed to his hand,
To ryd him he was full bold;
He co’ld noe more make him goe
Then a child of three yeere old.
LXIII
He laid uppon him with heele and hand,
With yard that was soe fell;
‘Helpe! brother Bredbeddle,’ says Marramile,
‘For I thinke he be the devill of hell.
LXIV
‘Helpe! brother Bredbeddle,’ says Marramile,
‘Helpe! for Christ’s pittye;
Ffor without thy help, brother Bredbeddle,
He will never be rydden for me.’
LXV
Then bespake him Sir Bredbeddle,
These were the words said he:
‘I conjure thee tell, thou Burlow-beanie,
How this steed was riddin in his country.’
LXVI
‘In Cornewall’s window is a gold wand;
Let him strike three strokes on that steed,
And then he will spring forth of his hand
As sparke doth out of gleede[187].’
Then Sir Tristram requires a horn. At Sir Bredbittle’s command the
sprite fetches it; but the horn will not sound until anointed with a
certain powder. This also the sprite is sent to fetch.
LXX
And then bespake Sir Bredebeddle,
To the ffeend these words said hee:
Says, ‘I conjure thee, thou Burlow-beanie,
The powder-box thou feitch me.’
LXXI
Then forth is gone Burlow-beanie,
As fast as he co’ld hie,
And feich he did the powder-box,
And came againe by and by.
LXXII
Then Sir Tristeram tooke powder forth of that box,
And blent it with warme sweet milke,
And there put it unto that horne,
And swill’d it about in that ilke.
LXXIII
Then he tooke the horne into his hand,
And a lowd blast he blew;
He rent the horne up to the midst,
All his ffellowes this they knew.
LXXIV
Then bespake him the Greene Knight,
These were the words said he:
Saies, ‘I conjure thee, thou Burlow-beanie,
That thou feitch me the sword, that I see.’
LXXV
Then forth is gone Burlow-beanie,
As fast as he co’ld hie,
And feitch he did that fairè sword,
And came againe by and by.
LXXVI
Then bespake him Sir Bredbeddle,
To the king these words said he:
‘Take this sword in thy hand, thou noble King Arthur,
For thy vowes sake I’le give it thee,
And goe strike off King Cornewall’s head,
In bed where he doth lye.’
LXXVII
Then forth is gone noble King Arthur,
As fast as he co’ld hye,
And strucken he hath off King Cornewall’s head,
And came againe by and by.
So King Arthur fulfils his vow; and, if the rest of the Ballad had been
preserved, no doubt it would have told us how his companions fulfilled
theirs.
FOOTNOTES:
[177] rived = arrived, travelled.
[178] tranckled = travelled.
[179] ghesting = guesting, lodging.
[180] gleed = live coal.
[181] lodly = loathly.
[182] rub-chadler = rubbish-tub.
[183] pay = satisfaction.
[184] Collen brand = sword of Cologne steel.
[185] Millaine = Milanese.
[186] element = sky.
[187] gleede = live coal.
_19. The Marriage of Sir Gawain_
[_A Fragment_]
I
Kinge Arthur lives in merry Carleile,
And seemely is to see,
And there he hath with him Queene Genever,
That bride soe bright of blee[188].
II
And there he hath with him Queene Genever,
That bride soe bright in bower,
And all his barons about him stoode,
That were both stiffe and stowre[189].
III
The king kept a royall Christmasse,
Of mirth and great honor.
Soon after Christmas the King chanced to ride by Tarn Wadling[190], in
the forest of Inglewood, when he was met by a fierce baron armed with a
club, who offered him choice between fighting and ransom. For ransom,
the King must return on New Year’s Day--
IV
‘And bring me word what thing it is
That a woman will most desire;
This shalbe thy ransome, Arthur,’ he sayes,
‘For I’le have noe other hier.’
V
King Arthur then held up his hand,
According thene as was the law;
He tooke his leave of the baron there,
And homward can he draw.
VI
And when he came to merry Carleile,
To his chamber he is gone,
And ther came to him his cozen Sir Gawaine,
As he did make his mone.
VII
And there came to him his cozen Sir Gawaine,
That was a curteous knight;
‘Why sigh you soe sore, unckle Arthur,’ he said,
‘Or who hath done thee unright?’--
VIII
‘O peace, O peace, thou gentle Gawaine,
That faire may thee beffall!
For if thou knew my sighing soe deepe,
Thou wo’ld not mervaile att all.
IX
‘Ffor when I came to Tearne Wadling,
A bold barron there I fand,
With a great club upon his backe,
Standing stiffe and strong.
X
‘And he asked me wether I wo’ld fight
Or from him I shold begone,
Or else I must him a ransome pay,
And soe depart him from.
XI
‘To fight with him I saw noe cause;
Methought it was not meet;
For he was stiffe and strong with-all,
His strokes were nothing sweete.
XII
‘Therefor this is my ransome, Gawaine,
I ought to him to pay;
I must come againe, as I am sworne,
Upon the New Yeer’s day;
XIII
‘And I must bring him word what thing it is
[That a woman will most desire].
Arthur, having collected and written down many answers to the baron’s
riddle, was true to his promise, thus--
XIV
Then king Arthur drest him for to ryde,
In one soe rich array,
Toward the fore-said Tearne Wadling,
That he might keepe his day.
XV
And as he rode over a more,
Hee see a lady where shee sate
Betwixt an oke and a greene hollen[191];
She was cladd in red scarlett.
XVI
Then thereas shold have stood her mouth,
Then there was sett her eye;
The other was in her forhead fast,
The way that she might see.
XVII
Her nose was crooked and turn’d outward,
Her mouth stood foule a-wry;
A worse form’d lady than shee was,
Never man saw with his eye.
XVIII
To halch upon[192] him, King Arthur,
This lady was full faine,
But King Arthur had forgott his lesson,
What he sho’ld say againe.
XIX
‘What knight art thou,’ the lady sayd,
‘That will not speak to me?
Of me be thou nothing dismay’d,
Tho I be ugly to see.
XX
‘For I have halched you curteouslye,
And you will not me againe;
Yett I may happen Sir Knight,’ shee said,
‘To ease thee of thy paine.’
XXI
‘Give thou ease me, lady,’ he said,
‘Or helpe me any thing,
Thou shalt have gentle Gawaine, my cozen,
And marry him with a ring.’
The hag thereupon gave him the right answer and he rode forward.
XXIII
And when he came to the Tearne Wadling,
The baron there co’ld he finde,
With a great weapon on his backe,
Standing stiffe and stronge.
XXIV
And then he tooke King Arthur’s letters in his hands,
And away he co’ld them fling,
And then he puld out a good browne sword,
And cryd himselfe a king.
XXV
And he sayd, ‘I have thee and thy land, Arthur,
To doe as it pleaseth me,
For this is not thy ransome sure,
Therfore yeeld thee to me.’
XXVI
And then bespoke him noble Arthur,
And bad him hold his hand:
‘And give me leave to speake my mind
In defence of all my land.’
XXVII
He said, ‘As I came over a more,
I see a lady where shee sate
Betweene an oke and a green hollen;
Shee was clad in red scarlett.
XXVIII
‘And she says a woman will have her will,
And this is all her cheef desire:
Doe me right, as thou art a baron of sckill[193],
This is thy ransome and all thy hyer.’
XXIX
He sayes, ‘An early vengeance light on her!
She walkes on yonder more;
It was my sister that told thee this,
[As shee heard it of me before.]
XXX
‘But heer I’le make mine avow to God
To doe her an evill turne;
For an’ ever I may thate fowle theefe get,
In a fyer I will her burne.’
The King, having returned home, told his knights that he had in the
forest a bride for one of them, and a number rode out in his company to
find her.
XXXI
Sir Lancelott and Sir Steven bold,
They rode with them that day,
And the formost of the company
There rode the steward Kay.
XXXII
Soe did Sir Banier and Sir Bore,
Sir Garrett with them soe gay,
Soe did Sir Tristeram that gentle knight,
To the forrest fresh and gay.
XXXIII
And when he came to the greene forrest,
Underneath a greene holly tree,
Their sate that lady in red scarlet
That unseemly was to see.
XXXIV
Sir Kay beheld this lady’s face,
And looked uppon her swire[194];
‘Whosoever kisses this lady,’ he sayes,
‘Of his kisse he stands in feare.’
XXXV
Sir Kay beheld the lady againe,
And looked upon her snout;
‘Whosoever kisses this lady,’ he saies,
‘Of his kisse he stands in doubt.’
XXXVI
‘Peace, cozen Kay,’ then said Sir Gawaine,
‘Amend thee of thy life;
For there is a knight amongst us all
That must marry her to his wife.’
XXXVII
‘What! wedd her to wiffe!’ then said Sir Kay,
‘In the divell’s name anon!
Gett me a wiffe where-ere I may,
For I had rather be slaine!’
XXXVIII
Then some tooke up their hawkes in hast.
And some tooke up their hounds,
And some sware they wo’ld not marry her
For citty nor for towne.
XXXIX
And then be-spake him noble King Arthur,
And sware there by this day,
For a litle foule sight and misliking
[They should not say her Nay].
At length Sir Gawain, for Arthur’s sake, consented. The ugly bride was
taken home and bedded, when to Gawain’s delight in his arms she turned
to a beautiful woman. She then offered him a choice.--
XL
Then shee said, ‘Choose thee, gentle Gawaine,
Truth as I doe say,
Wether thou wilt have me in this liknesse
In the night or else in the day.’
XLI
And then bespake him gentle Gawaine,
Was one soe mild of moode,
Sayes, ‘Well I know what I wo’ld say,
God grant it may be good!
XLII
‘To have thee fowle in the night
When I with thee sho’ld play--
Yet I had rather, if I might,
Have thee fowle in the day.’
XLIII
‘What! when lords goe with ther feires[195],’ shee said,
‘Both to the ale and wine,
Alas! then I must hyde my selfe,
I must not goe withinne.’
XLIV
And then bespake him gentle Gawaine,
Said, ‘Lady, that’s but skill;
And because thou art my owne lady,
Thou shall have all thy will.’
XLV
Then she said, ‘Blesed be thou, gentle Gawain,
This day that I thee see!
For as thou seest me att this time,
From hencforth I wilbe.
XLVI
‘My father was an old knight,
And yett it chancèd soe
That he marryed a younge lady
That brought me to this woe.
XLVII
‘Shee witched me, being a faire young lady,
To the greene forrest to dwell,
And there I must walke in woman’s liknesse,
Most like a feend of hell.
XLVIII
‘She witched my brother to a carlish [boore]
Being thus given what a woman most desires (that is, her will) she is
released from the spell and becomes beautiful at all times: and Sir
Gawain leads his lady in triumph among the knights, to present her to
the King and Queen.
L
‘Come kisse her, brother Kay,’ then said Sir Gawaine,
‘And amend thé of thy liffe;
I sweare this is the same lady
That I marryed to my wiffe.’
LI
Sir Kay kissed that lady bright,
Standing upon his ffeete;
He swore, as he was trew knight,
The spice was never soe sweete.
LII
‘Well, cozen Gawaine,’ sayes Sir Kay,
‘Thy chance is fallen arright,
For thou hast gotten one of the fairest maids
I ever saw with my sight.’--
LIII
‘It is my fortune,’ said Sir Gawaine;
‘For my unckle Arthurs sake
I am glad as grasse wold be of raine,
Great joy that I may take.’
LIV
Sir Gawaine tooke the lady by the one arme,
Sir Kay tooke her by the tother,
They led her straight to King Arthur,
As they were brother and brother.
LV
King Arthur welcomed them there all,
And soe did Lady Genever his queene,
With all the knights of the Round Table,
Most seemly to be seene.
LVI
King Arthur beheld that lady faire
That was soe faire and bright,
He thanked Christ in Trinity
For Sir Gawaine that gentle knight.
LVII
Soe did the knights, both more and lesse,
Rejoyced all that day
For the good chance that hapened was
To Sir Gawaine and his lady gay.
FOOTNOTES:
[188] blee = hue, complexion.
[189] stowre = strong or perhaps we should read ‘stiff in stowre’ =
sturdy in fight.
[190] Tarn Wadling = The place--near Hesketh in Cumberland, on the road
from Carlisle to Penrith--keeps its name to this day. But the tarn has
been drained and its site is now a pasture for sheep.
[191] hollen = holly-tree.
[192] halch upon = salute.
[193] sckill = wit, judgement.
[194] swire = neck.
[195] feires = mates.
_20. Bonnie Annie_
I
There was a rich lord, and he lived in Forfar,
He had a fair lady and one only dochter.
II
O she was fair! O dear, she was bonnie!
A ship’s captain courted her to be his honey.
III
‘Ye’ll steal your father’s gowd, and your mother’s money,
And I’ll make ye a lady in Ireland bonnie.’
IV
She’s stown her father’s gowd, and her mother’s money,
But she was never a lady in Ireland bonnie.
V
They hadna sail’d far till the young thing cried ‘Woman!’
‘What can a woman do, love, I will do for ye.
VI
‘Lay about, steer about, lay our ship cannie[196],
Do all ye can to save my dear Annie.’
VII
‘There’s fey[197] folk in our ship, she winna sail for me,
There’s fey folk in our ship, she winna sail [ony].’
VIII
They’ve castin’ black bullets twice six and forty,
And ae the black bullet fell on bonnie Annie.
IX
‘Ye’ll tak me in your arms twa, lo, lift me cannie,
Throw me out owre-board, your ain dear Annie.’
X
He has ta’en her in his arms twa, lo, lifted her cannie,
He has laid her on a bed of down, his ain dear Annie.
XI
‘What can a woman do, love, I’ll do for ye:’
‘Muckle can a woman do, ye canna do for me.’
XII
‘Lay about, steer about, lay our ship cannie,
Do all ye can to save my dear Annie.’
XIII
‘I’ve laid about, steer’d about, laid about cannie,
Our ship’s on a sand-bank, she winna sail [ony]--
XIV
‘Ye’ll take her in your arms twa, lo, lift her cannie,
And throw her out owre-board, your ain dear Annie.’
XV
He has ta’en her in his arms twa, lo, lifted her cannie,
He has thrown her out owre-board, his ain dear Annie.
XVI
[The corse it did float, the ship it did follow]
Until that they came to the high banks o’ Yarrow[198].
XVII
‘O I’d bury my love on the high banks o’ Yarrow,
But the wood it is dear, and the planks they are narrow.’
XVIII
He made his love a coffin o’ the gowd sae yellow,
And buried his bonnie love doun in a sea valley.
FOOTNOTES:
[196] cannie = gently.
[197] fey = destined to die.
[198] Yarrow =? Jarrow.
_21. Brown Robyn’s Confession_
I
It fell upon a Wadensday
Brown Robyn’s men went to sea;
But they saw neither moon nor sun
Nor starlight wi’ their e’e.
II
‘We’ll cast kevels[199] us amang;
See wha the man may be.’--
The kevel fell on Brown Robyn,
The master-man was he.
III
‘It is nae wonder,’ said Brown Robyn,
‘Altho’ I dinna thrive;
[For at hame I murder’d my ain father--
I would he were on live.]
IV
‘But tie me to a plank o’ wude,
And throw me in the sea;
And if I sink, ye may bid me sink,
But if I swim, let be.’
V
They’ve tied him to a plank o’ wude
And thrown him in the sea;
He didna sink, tho’ they bade him sink,
He swim’d, and they bade let be.
VI
He hadna been into the sea
An hour but barely three,
Till by it came Our Blessed Ladie
Her dear young son her wi’.
VII
‘Will ye gang to your men again,
Or will ye gang wi’ me?
Will ye gang to the high heavens
Wi’ my dear son and me?’--
VIII
‘I winna gang to my men again,
For they would be fear’d at me;
But I would gang to the high heavens,
Wi’ thy dear son and thee.’
IX
‘It’s for nae honour ye did, Brown Robyn,
It’s for nae gude ye did to me;
But a’ is for your fair confession
You’ve made upon the sea.’
FOOTNOTES:
[199] kevels = lots.
_22. The Cruel Mother_
I
She lean’d her back unto a thorn;
_Fine flowers in the valley_
And there she has her two babes born,
_And the green leaves they grow rarely._
II
She’s ta’en the ribbon frae her hair,
And bound their bodies fast and sair.
III
‘Smile na sae sweet, my bonny babes,
An’ ye smile sae sweet, ye’ll smile me dead.
IV
‘And, O bonny babes, if ye suck sair,
Ye’ll never suck by my side mair.’
V
She’s ta’en out her little penknife
And twinn’d[200] the sweet babes o’ their life.
VI
She’s howket a grave baith deep and wide,
And there she’s buried them side by side.
VII
She’s buried them baith beneath the brier,
And washed her hands wi’ mony a tear.
VIII
‘O ay, my God, as I look to thee,
My babes be atween my God and me!
IX
‘And ay their smiles wad win me in,
But I am borne down by deadly sin.’
X
She’s cover’d them o’er wi’ a marble stane,
Thinking she wad gang maiden hame.
XI
She lookit out owre her castle wa’
And saw twa naked boys play at the ba’.
XII
‘O bonny boys, gin ye were mine
I wad cleed[201] you in silk and sabelline[202].
XIII
‘O I would dress you in the silk,
And wash you ay in morning milk.’--
XIV
‘O mother dear, when we were thine,
You didna prove to us sae kind.
XV
‘O cruel mother, we were thine
And thou made us to wear the twine[203].
XVI
‘But now we’re in the heavens hie,
_Fine flowers in the valley_
And ye have the pains o’ hell to drie’--
_And the green leaves they grow rarely;_
_Ten thousand times good night and be wi’ thee!_
FOOTNOTES:
[200] twinn’d = robbed, deprived.
[201] cleed = clothe.
[202] sabelline = sable.
[203] twine = twine-cloth, shroud.
_23. Binnorie_
I
There were twa sisters sat in a bour;
_Binnorie, O Binnorie!_
There cam a knight to be their wooer,
_By the bonnie milldams o’ Binnorie._
II
He courted the eldest with glove and ring,
But he lo’ed the youngest abune a’ thing.
III
The eldest she was vexèd sair,
And sair envìed her sister fair.
IV
Upon a morning fair and clear,
She cried upon her sister dear:
V
‘O sister, sister, tak my hand,
And we’ll see our father’s ships to land.’
VI
She’s ta’en her by the lily hand,
And led her down to the river-strand.
VII
The youngest stood upon a stane,
The eldest cam and push’d her in.
VIII
‘O sister, sister, reach your hand!
And ye sall be heir o’ half my land:
IX
‘O sister, reach me but your glove!
And sweet William sall be your love.’--
X
‘Foul fa’ the hand that I should take;
It twin’d[204] me o’ my warldis make[205].
XI
‘Your cherry cheeks and your yellow hair
Gar’d me gang maiden evermair.’
XII
Sometimes she sank, sometimes she swam,
Until she cam to the miller’s dam.
XIII
Out then cam the miller’s son,
And saw the fair maid soummin’[206] in.
XIV
‘O father, father, draw your dam!
There’s either a mermaid or a milk-white swan.’
XV
The miller hasted and drew his dam,
And there he found a drown’d woman.
XVI
You couldna see her middle sma’,
Her gowden girdle was sae braw.
XVII
You couldna see her lily feet,
Her gowden fringes were sae deep.
XVIII
You couldna see her yellow hair
For the strings o’ pearls was twisted there.
XIX
You couldna see her fingers sma’,
Wi’ diamond rings they were cover’d a’.
XX
And by there cam a harper fine,
That harpit to the king at dine.
XXI
And when he look’d that lady on,
He sigh’d and made a heavy moan.
XXII
He’s made a harp of her breast-bane,
Whose sound wad melt a heart of stane.
XXIII
He’s ta’en three locks o’ her yellow hair,
And wi’ them strung his harp sae rare.
XXIV
He went into her father’s hall,
And there was the court assembled all.
XXV
He laid his harp upon a stane,
And straight it began to play by lane[207].
XXVI
‘O yonder sits my father, the King,
And yonder sits my mother, the Queen;
XXVII
‘And yonder stands my brother Hugh,
And by him my William, sweet and true.’
XXVIII
But the last tune that the harp play’d then--
_Binnorie, O Binnorie!_
Was, ‘Woe to my sister, false Helèn!’
_By the bonnie milldams o’ Binnorie_.
FOOTNOTES:
[204] twin’d = robbed, deprived.
[205] my warldis make = my one mate in the world.
[206] soummin’ = swimming.
[207] by lane = alone, of itself.
_24. The Broomfield Hill_
I
There was a knight and a lady bright
Set trysts[208] amang the broom,
The ane to come at morning ear[209],
The other at afternoon.
II
‘I’ll wager, I’ll wager, I’ll wager wi’ you
Five hundred merks and ten
That a maid shanna gae to the bonny broom
And a maiden return again.’--
III
‘I’ll wager, I’ll wager, I’ll wager wi’ you
Five hundred merks and ten
That a maid shall gae to the bonny green broom
And a maiden return again.’
IV
The may she sat at her mother’s bower door
And aye she made her mane:
‘O whether shou’d I gang to the Broomfield Hill,
Or should I stay at hame?
V
‘For if I do gang to the Broomfield Hill,
A maid I’ll not return;
But if I stay frae the Broomfield Hill,
My love will ca’ me man-sworn.’
VI
Up then spake an auld witch-wife,
Sat in the bower abune:
‘O ye may gang to the Broomfield Hill,
And yet come maiden hame,
VII
‘For when ye gang to the Broomfield Hill,
Ye’ll find your love asleep,
Wi’ a silver belt above his head,
And a broom-cow[210] at his feet.
VIII
‘Tak’ ye the bloom frae aff the broom,
Strew’t at his head an’ feet,
And aye the thicker that ye do strew,
The sounder he will sleep.
IX
‘Tak’ ye the rings aff your fingers,
Put them in his right hand,
To let him know when he does wake,
His love was at his command.’
X
Lord John has ta’en his milk-white steed
And his hawk wi’ his bells sae bright,
And he’s ridden swift to the Broomfield Hill,
[Was never a baulder] knight.
XI
‘Now rest, now rest, my milk-white steed,
My lady will soon be here,
And I’ll lay my head by this rose sae red,
And the bonny burn sae near.’
XII
She’s pu’d the broom-flower on Hive Hill,
And strew’d on ’s white breast-bane,
And that was to be wittering[211] true
That maiden she had gane.
XIII
‘O where were ye, my milk-white steed,
That I hae coft[212] sae dear,
That wadna watch and waken me
When there was maiden here?’--
XIV
‘I stampèd wi’ my foot, master,
And gar’d my bridle ring,
But no kin’ thing wald waken ye
Till she was past and gane.’--
XV
‘And wae betide ye, my gay goss-hawk,
That I hae coft sae dear,
That wadna watch an’ waken me
When my true-love was here.’--
XVI
‘I clappèd wi’ my wings, master,
And aye my bells I rang,
And aye cried, _Waken, waken, master,
Before the ladye gang_!’--
XVII
‘But haste, but haste, my gude white steed,
To come the maiden till,
Or a’ the birds of the gude greenwood
O’ your flesh shall have their fill!’--
XVIII
‘Ye needna burst your gude white steed
Wi’ racing o’er the howm[213];
Nae bird flies faster thro’ the wood
Than she fled thro’ the broom.’
FOOTNOTES:
[208] trysts = assignations.
[209] ear = early.
[210] broom-cow = branch of broom.
[211] wittering = information, token.
[212] coft = bought.
[213] howm = holm, river-mead.
_25. Earl Mar’s Daughter_
I
It was intill a pleasant time,
Upon a simmer’s day,
The noble Earl Mar’s daughter
Went forth to sport and play.
II
And while she play’d and sported
Below a green aik tree,
There she saw a sprightly doo[214]
Set on a tower sae hie.
III
‘O Coo-me-doo, my love sae true,
If ye’ll come doun to me,
Ye’se hae a cage o’ gude red gowd
Instead o’ simple tree.
IV
‘I’ll put gowd hingers[215] roun’ your cage,
And siller roun’ your wa’;
I’ll gar ye shine as fair a bird
As ony o’ them a’.’
V
But she had nae these words well spoke,
Nor yet these words well said,
Till Coo-me-doo flew frae the tower
And lichted on her head.
VI
Then she has brought this pretty bird
Hame to her bowers and ha’,
And made him shine as fair a bird
As ony o’ them a’.
VII
When day was gone, and night was come,
About the evening-tide,
This lady spied a gallant youth
Stand straight up by her side.
VIII
‘From whence cam’ ye, young man?’ she said;
‘That does surprise me sair;
My door was bolted right secure,
What way hae ye come here?’--
IX
‘O haud your tongue, ye lady fair,
Lat a’ your folly be;
Mind ye not o’ your turtle-doo
Ye wiled from aff the tree?’--
X
‘What country come ye frae?’ she said,
‘An’ what’s your pedigree?’--
‘O it was but this verra day
That I cam’ ower the sea.
XI
‘My mither lives on foreign isles,
A queen o’ high degree;
And by her spells I am a doo
With you to live an’ dee.’--
XII
‘O Coo-me-doo, my love sae true,
Nae mair frae me ye’se gae.’--
‘That’s never my intent, my love;
As ye said, it shall be sae.’
XIII
Then he has stay’d in bower wi’ her
For six lang years and ane,
Till six young sons to him she bare,
And the seventh she’s brought hame.
XIV
But aye, as ever a child was born,
He carried them away,
And brought them to his mither’s care
As fast as he could fly.
XV
When he had stay’d in bower wi’ her
For seven lang years an’ mair
There cam’ a lord o’ high renown
To court this lady fair.
XVI
But still his proffer she refused
And a’ his presents too;
Says, ‘I’m content to live alane
Wi’ my bird Coo-me-doo.’
XVII
Her father swore a michty oath
Amang the nobles all,
‘The morn, or ere I eat or drink,
This bird I will gar kill.’
XVIII
The bird was sitting in his cage
And heard what they did say;
Says, ‘Wae is me, and you forlorn,
If I do langer stay!’
XIX
Then Coo-me-doo took flight and flew
And afar beyond the sea,
And lichted near his mither’s castle
On a tower o’ gowd sae hie.
XX
His mither she was walking out
To see what she could see,
And there she saw her one young son
Set on the tower sae hie.
XXI
‘Get dancers here to dance,’ she said,
‘And minstrels for to play;
For here’s my young son Florentine
Come hame wi’ me to stay.’--
XXII
‘Get nae dancers to dance, mither,
Nor minstrels for to play;
For the mither o’ my seven sons,
The morn’s her wedding-day.’--
XXIII
‘O tell me, tell me, Florentine,
Tell me, an tell me true;
Tell me this day without a flaw
What I will do for you?’--
XXIV
‘Instead of dancers to dance, mither,
Or minstrels for to play,
Turn four-and-twenty well-wight[216] men
Like storks in feathers gray:
XXV
‘My seven sons in seven swans
Aboon their heads to flee;
And I mysel’ a gay goshawk,
A bird o’ high degree.’
XXVI
Then siching said the Queen hersel’,
‘That thing’s too high for me!’
But she applied to an auld woman
Wha had mair skill than she.
XXVII
Instead o’ dancers to dance a dance,
Or minstrels for to play,
Four-and-twenty well-wight men
Turn’d birds o’ feathers gray.
XXVIII
Her seven sons in seven swans,
Aboon their heads to flee;
And he himsel’ a gay goshawk,
A bird o’ high degree.
XXIX
This flock o’ birds took flight and flew
Beyond the raging sea,
And landed near the Earl Mar’s castle,
Took shelter in every tree.
XXX
They were a flock o’ pretty birds
Right comely to be seen;
The people view’d them wi’ surprise
As they dancèd on the green.
XXXI
These birds flew out frae every tree
And lichted on the ha’,
And [frae the roof] with force did flee
Amang the nobles a’.
XXXII
The storks there seized [ilk wedding-guest]
--They could not fight nor flee;
The swans they bound the [bridegroom fast]
Below a green aik tree.
XXXIII
They lichted next on the [bride-] maidens,
Then on the bride’s own head;
And wi’ the twinkling o’ an e’e
The bride an’ them were fled.
XXXIV
There’s ancient men at weddings been
For sixty years or more,
But siccan a curious wedding-day
They never saw before.
XXXV
For naething could the companie do,
Nor naething could they say;
But they saw a flock o’ pretty birds
That took their bride away.
FOOTNOTES:
[214] doo = dove.
[215] hingers = hangings, curtains.
[216] well-wight = strong, lusty.
_26. Proud Lady Margaret_
I
Fair Margret was a proud ladye,
The King’s cousin was she;
Fair Margret was a rich ladye,
An’ vain as vain cou’d be.
II
Ae night she sat in her stately ha’
Kaimin’ her yellow hair,
When in there cam’ a gentle Knight,
An’ a white scarf he did wear.
III
‘O what’s your will wi’ me, Sir Knight?
O what’s your will wi’ me?
You’re the likest to my ae brither
That ever I did see.
IV
‘You’re the likest to my ae brither
That ever I hae seen;
But he’s buried in Dunfermline kirk
A month an’ mair bygane.’--
V
‘I’m the likest to your ae brither
That ever ye did see;
But I canna get rest in my grave,
A’ for the pride o’ thee.
VI
‘Leave pride, Margret, leave pride, Margret,
Leave pride an’ vanity;
Cou’d ye see the sights that I hae seen
Sair warnèd ye wou’d be.
VII
‘For the wee worms are my bedfellows,
An’ cauld clay is my sheets,
An’ when the stormy winds do blow
My body lies and sleeps.
VIII
‘O ye come in at the kirk-door
Wi’ the red gowd on your crown;
But when you come where I have been,
You’ll wear it laigher[217] down.
IX
‘O ye come in at the kirk door
Wi’ the gowd prins[218] i’ your sleeve,
But when you come where I have been
Ye maun gie them a’ their leave.
X
‘Leave pride, Margret, leave pride, Margret,
Leave pride an’ vanity;
Ere ye see the sights that I hae seen,
Sair alter’d ye maun be.’
XI
He got her in her stately ha’,
Kaimin’ her yellow hair;
He left her on her sick, sick bed
Mournin’ her sins sae sair.
FOOTNOTES:
[217] laigher = lower.
[218] prins = pins.
_27. Clerk Saunders_
PART I
I
Clerk Saunders and may Margaret
Walk’d owre yon garden green;
And deep and heavy was the love
That fell thir twa between.
II
‘A bed, a bed,’ Clerk Saunders said,
‘A bed for you and me!’
‘Fye na, fye na,’ said may Margaret,
‘Till anes we married be!’--
III
‘Then I’ll take the sword frae my scabbard
And slowly lift the pin;
And you may swear, and save your aith,
Ye ne’er let Clerk Saunders in.
IV
‘Take you a napkin in your hand,
And tie up baith your bonnie e’en,
And you may swear, and save your aith,
Ye saw me na since late yestreen.’
V
It was about the midnight hour,
When they asleep were laid,
When in and came her seven brothers,
Wi’ torches burning red:
VI
When in and came her seven brothers,
Wi’ torches burning bright:
They said, ‘We hae but one sister,
And behold her lying with a knight!’
VII
Then out and spake the first o’ them,
‘I bear the sword shall gar him die.’
And out and spake the second o’ them,
‘His father has nae mair but he.’
VIII
And out and spake the third o’ them,
‘I wot that they are lovers dear.’
And out and spake the fourth o’ them,
‘They hae been in love this mony a year.’
IX
Then out and spake the fifth o’ them,
‘It were great sin true love to twain.’
And out and spake the sixth o’ them,
‘It were shame to slay a sleeping man.’
X
Then up and gat the seventh o’ them,
And never a word spake he;
But he has striped[219] his bright brown brand
Out through Clerk Saunders’ fair bodye.
XI
Clerk Saunders he started, and Margaret she turn’d
Into his arms as asleep she lay;
And sad and silent was the night
That was atween thir twae.
XII
And they lay still and sleepit sound
Until the day began to daw’;
And kindly she to him did say,
‘It is time, true love, you were awa’.’
XIII
But he lay still, and sleepit sound,
Albeit the sun began to sheen;
She look’d atween her and the wa’,
And dull and drowsie were his e’en.
XIV
Then in and came her father dear;
Said, ‘Let a’ your mourning be;
I’ll carry the dead corse to the clay,
And I’ll come back and comfort thee.’
XV
‘Comfort weel your seven sons,
For comforted I will never be:
I ween ’twas neither knave nor loon
Was in the bower last night wi’ me.’
PART II
I
The clinking bell gaed through the town,
To carry the dead corse to the clay;
And Clerk Saunders stood at may Margaret’s window,
I wot, an hour before the day.
II
‘Are ye sleeping, Marg’ret?’ he says,
‘Or are ye waking presentlie?
Give me my faith and troth again,
I wot, true love, I gied to thee.’
III
‘Your faith and troth ye sall never get,
Nor our true love sall never twin[220],
Until ye come within my bower,
And kiss me cheik and chin.’
IV
‘My mouth it is full cold, Marg’ret;
It has the smell, now, of the ground;
And if I kiss thy comely mouth,
Thy days of life will not be lang.
V
‘O cocks are crowing on merry middle-earth,
I wot the wild fowls are boding day;
Give me my faith and troth again,
And let me fare me on my way.’
VI
‘Thy faith and troth thou sallna get,
And our true love sall never twin,
Until ye tell what comes o’ women,
I wot, who die in strong traivelling?’
VII
‘Their beds are made in the heavens high,
Down at the foot of our good Lord’s knee,
Weel set about wi’ gillyflowers;
I wot, sweet company for to see.
VIII
‘O cocks are crowing on merry middle-earth,
I wot the wild fowls are boding day;
The psalms of heaven will soon be sung,
And I, ere now, will be miss’d away.’
IX
Then she has taken a crystal wand,
And she has stroken her troth thereon;
She has given it him out at the shot-window,
Wi’ mony a sad sigh and heavy groan.
X
‘I thank ye, Marg’ret; I thank ye, Marg’ret;
And ay I thank ye heartilie;
Gin ever the dead come for the quick,
Be sure, Marg’ret, I’ll come for thee.’
XI
It’s hosen and shoon, and gown alone,
She climb’d the wall, and follow’d him,
Until she came to the green forèst,
And there she lost the sight o’ him.
XII
‘Is there ony room at your head, Saunders?
Is there ony room at your feet?
Or ony room at your side, Saunders,
Where fain, fain, I wad sleep?’
XIII
‘There’s nae room at my head, Marg’ret,
There’s nae room at my feet;
My bed it is fu’ lowly now,
Amang the hungry worms I sleep.
XIV
‘Cauld mould is my covering now,
But and my winding-sheet;
The dew it falls nae sooner down
Than my resting-place is weet.
XV
‘But plait a wand o’ bonny birk,
And lay it on my breast;
And shed a tear upon my grave,
And wish my saul gude rest.’
XVI
Then up and crew the red, red cock,
And up and crew the gray:
‘’Tis time, ’tis time, my dear Marg’ret,
That you were going away.
XVII
‘And fair Marg’ret, and rare Marg’ret,
And Marg’ret o’ veritie,
Gin e’er ye love another man,
Ne’er love him as ye did me.’
FOOTNOTES:
[219] striped = thrust.
[220] twin = break in two.
_28. The Daemon Lover_
I
‘O where hae ye been, my long, long love,
These seven long years and more?’--
‘O I’m come to seek my former vows,
That ye promised me before.’--
II
‘Awa’ wi’ your former vows,’ she says,
‘For they will breed but strife;
Awa’ wi’ your former vows,’ she says,
‘For I am become a wife.
III
‘I am married to a ship-carpenter,
A ship-carpenter he’s bound;
I wadna he kenn’d my mind this nicht
For twice five hundred pound.’
IV
He turn’d him round and round about,
And the tear blinded his e’e:
‘I wad never hae trodden on Irish ground
If it hadna been for thee.
V
‘I might hae had a noble lady,
Far, far beyond the sea;
I might hae had a noble lady,
Were it no for the love o’ thee.’--
VI
‘If ye might hae had a noble lady,
Yoursel’ ye had to blame;
Ye might hae taken the noble lady,
For ye kenn’d that I was nane.’--
VII
‘O fause are the vows o’ womankind,
But fair is their fause bodie:
I wad never hae trodden on Irish ground,
Were it no for the love o’ thee.’--
VIII
‘If I was to leave my husband dear,
And my wee young son alsua,
O what hae ye to tak’ me to,
If with you I should gae?’--
IX
‘I hae seven ships upon the sea,
The eighth brought me to land;
With mariners and merchandise,
And music on every hand.
X
‘The ship wherein my love sall sail
Is glorious to behowd;
The sails sall be o’ the finest silk,
And the mast o’ beaten gowd.’
XI
She has taken up her wee young son,
Kiss’d him baith cheek and chin;
‘O fare ye weel, my wee young son,
For I’ll never see you again!’
XII
She has put her foot on gude ship-board,
And on ship-board she has gane,
And the veil that hangit ower her face
Was a’ wi’ gowd begane[221].
XIII
She hadna sail’d a league, a league,
A league but barely twa,
Till she minded on her husband she left
And her wee young son alsua.
XIV
‘O haud your tongue o’ weeping,’ he says,
‘Let a’ your follies a-bee;
I’ll show where the white lilies grow
On the banks o’ Italie.’
XV
She hadna sail’d a league, a league,
A league but barely three,
Till grim, grim grew his countenance
And gurly[222] grew the sea.
XVI
‘What hills are yon, yon pleasant hills,
The sun shines sweetly on?’--
‘O yon are the hills o’ Heaven,’ he said,
‘Where you will never won.’--
XVII
‘O whaten-a mountain is yon,’ she said,
‘Sae dreary wi’ frost and snae[223]?’--
‘O yon is the mountain o’ Hell,’ he said,
‘Where you and I will gae.
XVIII
‘But haud your tongue, my dearest dear,
Let a’ your follies a-bee,
I’ll show where the white lilies grow,
In the bottom o’ the sea.’
XIX
And aye as she turn’d her round about,
Aye taller he seem’d to be;
Until that the tops o’ that gallant ship
Nae taller were than he.
XX
He strack the top-mast wi’ his hand,
The fore-mast wi’ his knee;
And he brake that gallant ship in twain,
And sank her in the sea.
FOOTNOTES:
[221] begane = overlaid.
[222] gurly = rough, surly.
[223] snae = snow.
_29. Clerk Colven_
I
Clerk Colven, and his gay ladie,
As they walk’d in yon garden green,
The belt about her middle jimp[224]
It cost Clerk Colven crowns fifteen.
II
‘O hearken weel now, my good lord,
O hearken weel to what I say;
When ye gang to the wall[225] o’ Stream
O gang nae near the weel-faur’d may[226].’
III
‘O haud your tongue, my gay ladie,
Now speak nae mair of that to me;
For I nae saw a fair woman
[That I cou’d] like so well as thee.’
IV
He’s mounted on his berry-brown steed,
And merry, merry rade he on,
Till that he came to the wall o’ Stream,
And there he saw the mermaiden.
V
‘Ye wash, ye wash, ye bonny may,
And ay’s ye wash your sark o’ silk.’--
‘It’s a’ for ye, you gentle knight,
My skin is whiter than the milk.’
VI
He’s ta’en her by the milk-white hand,
He’s ta’en her by the sleeve sae green,
And he’s forgotten his gay ladie,
And he’s awa’ wi’ the mermaiden.
VII
--‘Ohone, alas!’ says Clerk Colven,
‘And aye so sair as akes my head!’
And merrily leugh[227] the mermaiden,
‘O ’twill win on[228] till you be dead.
VIII
‘But out ye tak’ your little pen-knife,
And frae my sark ye shear a gare[229];
Row[230] that about your lovely head,
And the pain ye’ll never feel nae mair.’
IX
Out he has ta’en his little pen-knife,
And frae her sark he’s shorn a gare;
She’s ty’d it round his whey-white face,
But and ay his head it akèd mair.
X
‘Ohone, alas!’ says Clerk Colven,
‘O sairer, sairer akes my head!’--
‘And sairer, sairer ever will,
And aye be war’[231] till ye be dead.’
XI
Then out he drew his shining blade
And thought wi’ it to be her deid[232],
But she’s become a fish again,
And merrily sprang into the fleed[233].
XII
He’s mounted on his berry-brown steed,
And dowie[234], dowie rade he hame,
And heavily, heavily lighted down
When to his ladie’s bower he came.
XIII
‘O mither, mither, mak’ my bed,
And, gentle ladie, lay me down;
O brither, brither, unbend my bow,
’Twill never be bent by me again!’
XIV
His mither she has made his bed,
His gentle ladie laid him down,
His brither he has unbent his bow,
--’Twas never bent by him again.
FOOTNOTES:
[224] jimp = slim, slender.
[225] wall = well.
[226] weel-faur’d may = well-favoured maiden.
[227] leugh = laughed.
[228] win on = continue.
[229] gare = gore, strip.
[230] row = roll, wrap.
[231] war’ = worse.
[232] deid = death.
[233] fleed = flood.
[234] dowie = dolefully.
_30. Young Hunting_
I
‘O lady, rock never your young son young
One hour longer for me;
For I have a sweetheart in Gareloch Wells
I love thrice better than thee.
II
‘The very sole o’ that lady’s foot,
Than thy face is mair white.’--
‘But nevertheless now, Young Hunting,
Ye’ll bide in my bower this night?’
III
She has birl’d[235] in him Young Hunting
The good ale and the wine,
Till he was as fou drunken
As any wild-wood swine.
IV
[She has kiss’d him by] the candle-light
And the charcoal burning red,
And up she has ta’en Young Hunting,
And she’s had him to her bed.
V
And she’s minded her on a little pen-knife
That hang’d below her gare[236],
And she has gi’en Young Hunting
A deep wound and a sair.
VI
Then up and spake the popinjay
That flew abune her head:
‘Lady, keep well your green cleiding[237]
Frae good Young Hunting’s bleid!’--
VII
‘O better I’ll keep my green cleiding
Frae good Young Hunting’s bleid
Than thou canst keep thy clattering tongue
That trattles in thy head.’
VIII
‘O lang, lang is the winter’s night,
And slowly daws[238] the day!
There lies a dead man in my bower,
And I wish he were away.’
IX
She has call’d upon her bower-maidens,
She has call’d them ane by ane:
‘There lies a dead man in my bower,
I wish that he were gane.’
X
They have booted and spurr’d Young Hunting
As he was wont to ride--
A hunting-horn about his neck,
And a sharp sword by his side;
And they’ve had him to the wan water,
Where a’ men ca’s it Clyde.
XI
In the deepest pot of Clyde-water
It’s there they flang him in,
And put a turf on his breast-bane
To hold Young Hunting down.
XII
Then up and spake the popinjay
That sat upon the tree;
‘Gae hame, gae hame, ye fause lady,
And pay your maids their fee.’--
XIII
‘Come down, come down, my pretty bird,
That sits upon the tree;
I have a cage o’ beaten gold,
I’ll gie it unto thee.’--
XIV
‘How shall I come down, how can I come down,
How shall I come down to thee?
The things ye said to Young Hunting,
The same ye’re saying to me.’
XV
She hadna cross’d a rigg[239] o’ land,
A rigg but barely ane,
When she met wi’ his auld father,
Came riding all alane.
XVI
‘Where has ye been, now, lady fair,
Where has ye been sae late?
We hae been seeking Young Hunting,
But him we canna get.’--
XVII
‘Young Hunting kens a’ the fords o’ Clyde,
He’ll ride them ane by ane;
And though the night was ne’er so mirk,
Young Hunting will be hame.’
XVIII
O there came seeking Young Hunting
Mony a lord and knight,
And there came seeking Young Hunting
Mony a lady bright.
XIX
And it fell ance upon a day
The King was bound to ride,
And he has miss’d Young Hunting,
Should hae ridden on his right side.
XX
And they have to his true love gane;
But she sware by the thorn,
‘O I have not seen Young Hunting
Since yesterday at morn.
XXI
‘It fears me sair in Clyde Water
That he is drown’d therein!’
O they have sent for the King’s divers,
To dive for Young Hunting.
XXII
‘Gar dive, gar dive!’ the King he cried,
‘Gar dive for gold and fee!
O wha will dive for Young Hunting’s sake,
Or wha will dive for me?’
XXIII
They dived in at the tae water-bank,
They dived in at the tither:
‘We can dive no more for Young Hunting,
Altho’ he were our brither.’
XXIV
It fell that in that lady’s castle
The King was boun to bed,
And out it spake the popinjay
That flew abune his head:
XXV
‘Leave off, leave off, your day diving,
And dive upon the night;
And where that sackless[240] Knight lies slain
The candles will burn bright.’
XXVI
They left their diving on the day,
And dived upon the night;
And over the place Young Hunting lay
The candles shone fu’ bright.
XXVII
The deepest pot in Clyde Water
They got Young Hunting in,
With a green turf tied across his breast
To keep that good lord down.
XXVIII
Then up and spake the King himsel’,
When he saw the deadly wound:
‘O wha has slain my right-hand man,
That held my hawk and hound?’
XXIX
Then up and spake the popinjay,
Says, ‘What needs a’ this din?
It was his light leman took his life,
And hided him in the linn[241].’
XXX
She sware her by the grass sae green,
So did she by the corn,
She hadna seen Young Hunting
Since Monanday at morn.
XXXI
‘Put not the wyte[242] on me,’ she says,
‘It was my May[243] Catheren.’
Then they have cut baith thorn and fern,
To burn that maiden in.
XXXII
When they had ta’en her May Catheren,
In the bonfire set her in;
It wouldna take upon her cheeks,
Nor yet upon her chin,
Nor yet upon her yellow hair,
To heal the deadly sin.
XXXIII
Out they have ta’en her May Catheren,
And put the lady in:
O it took upon her cheek, her cheek,
Took fast upon her chin,
Took fast upon her fair body--
She burnt like hollins[244] green.
FOOTNOTES:
[235] birl’d = poured.
[236] gare = gore, in the skirt.
[237] cleiding = clothing.
[238] daws = dawns.
[239] rigg = ridge.
[240] sackless = innocent.
[241] linn = stream, pool.
[242] wyte = blame.
[243] May = Maid.
[244] hollins = holly.
_31. The Great Silkie of Sule Skerrie_
I
An earthly nourrice[245] sits and sings,
And aye she sings, ‘Ba, lily wean!
Little ken I my bairn’s father,
Far less the land that he staps in.’
II
Then ane arose at her bed-fit,
An’ a grumly guest I’m sure was he:
‘Here am I, thy bairn’s father,
Although that I be not comèlie.
III
‘I am a man, upo’ the lan’,
An’ I am a silkie[246] in the sea;
And when I’m far and far frae lan’,
My dwelling is in Sule Skerrie.’
IV
‘It was na weel,’ quo’ the maiden fair,
‘It was na weel, indeed,’ quo’ she,
‘That the Great Silkie of Sule Skerrie
Suld hae come and aught[247] a bairn to me.’
V
Now he has ta’en a purse of goud,
And he has pat it upo’ her knee,
Sayin’, ‘Gie to me my little young son,
An’ tak thee up thy nourrice-fee.
VI
‘An’ it sall pass on a simmer’s day,
When the sin shines het on evera stane,
That I will tak my little young son,
An’ teach him for to swim his lane[248].
VII
‘An’ thu sall marry a proud gunner,
An’ a proud gunner I’m sure he’ll be,
An’ the very first schot that ere he schoots,
He’ll schoot baith my young son and me.’
FOOTNOTES:
[245] nourrice = nurse.
[246] silkie = seal.
[247] aught = own.
[248] his lane = alone, without assistance.
_32. The Wife of Usher’s Well_
I
There lived a wife at Usher’s well,
And a wealthy wife was she;
She had three stout and stalwart sons,
And sent them o’er the sea.
II
They hadna been a week from her,
A week but barely ane,
When word came to the carline[249] wife
That her three sons were gane.
III
They hadna been a week from her,
A week but barely three,
When word came to the carline wife
That her sons she’d never see.
IV
‘I wish the wind may never cease,
Nor fashes[250] in the flood,
Till my three sons come hame to me
In earthly flesh and blood!’
V
It fell about the Martinmas,
When nights are lang and mirk,
The carline wife’s three sons came hame,
And their hats were o’ the birk.
VI
It neither grew in syke[251] nor ditch,
Nor yet in ony sheugh[252];
But at the gates o’ Paradise
That birk grew fair eneugh.
VII
‘Blow up the fire, my maidens!
Bring water from the well!
For a’ my house shall feast this night,
Since my three sons are well.’
VIII
And she has made to them a bed,
She’s made it large and wide;
And she’s ta’en her mantle her about,
Sat down at the bedside.
IX
Up then crew the red, red cock,
And up and crew the gray;
The eldest to the youngest said,
‘’Tis time we were away.’
X
The cock he hadna craw’d but once,
And clapp’d his wings at a’,
When the youngest to the eldest said,
‘Brother, we must awa’.
XI
‘The cock doth craw, the day doth daw,
The channerin’[253] worm doth chide;
Gin we be miss’d out o’ our place,
A sair pain we maun bide.’--
XII
‘Lie still, lie still but a little wee while,
Lie still but if we may;
Gin my mother should miss us when she wakes,
She’ll go mad ere it be day.’--
XIII
‘Fare ye weel, my mother dear!
Fareweel to barn and byre!
And fare ye weel, the bonny lass
That kindles my mother’s fire!’
FOOTNOTES:
[249] carline = old woman.
[250] fashes = troubles.
[251] syke = marsh.
[252] sheugh = trench.
[253] channerin’ = fretting.
_33. A Lyke-Wake Dirge_
I
This ae nighte, this ae nighte,
--_Every nighte and alle_,
Fire and fleet[254] and candle-lighte,
_And Christe receive thy saule_.
II
When thou from hence away art past,
--_Every nighte and alle_,
To Whinny-muir thou com’st at last:
_And Christe receive thy saule_.
III
If ever thou gavest hosen and shoon,
--_Every nighte and alle_,
Sit thee down and put them on:
_And Christe receive thy saule._
IV
If hosen and shoon thou ne’er gav’st nane
--_Every nighte and alle_,
The whinnes sall prick thee to the bare bane;
_And Christe receive thy saule._
V
From whinny-muir when thou may’st pass,
--_Every nighte and alle_,
To Brig o’ Dread thou com’st at last;
_And Christe receive thy saule._
VI
From Brig o’ Dread when thou may’st pass,
--_Every nighte and alle_,
To Purgatory fire thou com’st at last;
_And Christe receive thy saule._
VII
If ever thou gavest meat or drink,
--_Every nighte and alle_,
The fire sall never make thee shrink;
_And Christe receive thy saule._
VIII
If meat or drink thou ne’er gav’st nane,
--_Every nighte and alle_,
The fire will burn thee to the bare bane;
_And Christe receive thy saule._
IX
This ae nighte, this ae nighte,
--_Every nighte and alle_,
Fire and fleet and candle-lighte,
_And Christe receive thy saule_.
FOOTNOTES:
[254] fleet = floor. _Other readings are_ ‘sleet’ _and_ ‘salt’.
_34. The Unquiet Grave_
I
‘The wind doth blow to-day, my love,
And a few small drops of rain;
I never had but one true-love;
In cold grave she was lain.
II
‘I’ll do as much for my true-love
As any young man may;
I’ll sit and mourn all at her grave
For a twelvemonth and a day.’
III
The twelvemonth and a day being up,
The dead began to speak:
‘Oh who sits weeping on my grave,
And will not let me sleep?’--
IV
‘’Tis I, my love, sits on your grave,
And will not let you sleep;
For I crave one kiss of your clay-cold lips,
And that is all I seek.’--
V
‘You crave one kiss of my clay-cold lips;
But my breath smells earthy strong;
If you have one kiss of my clay-cold lips,
Your time will not be long.
VI
‘’Tis down in yonder garden green,
Love, where we used to walk,
The finest flower that ere was seen
Is wither’d to a stalk.
VII
‘The stalk is wither’d dry, my love,
So will our hearts decay;
So make yourself content, my love,
Till God calls you away.’
BOOK II
_35. Hynd Horn_
I
Hynd Horn’s bound, love, and Hynd Horn’s free,
_With a hey lillelu and a how lo lan;_
Where was ye born, or in what countrie?
_And the birk and the broom blows bonnie._
II
‘In good greenwood, there I was born,
And all my forbears me beforn.
III
‘O seven long years I served the King,
And as for wages I never gat nane;
IV
‘But ae sight o’ his ae daughter.
And that was thro’ an auger-bore.’
V
Seven long years he served the King,
And it’s a’ for the sake of his daughter Jean.
VI
The King an angry man was he;
He sent young Hynd Horn to the sea.
VII
He’s gi’en his luve a silver wand
Wi’ seven silver laverocks[255] sittin’ thereon.
VIII
She’s gi’en to him a gay gold ring
Wi’ seven bright diamonds set therein.
IX
‘As lang’s these diamonds keep their hue,
Ye’ll know I am a lover true:
X
‘But when the ring turns pale and wan,
Ye may ken that I love anither man.’
XI
He hoist up sails and awa’ sail’d he
Till that he came to a foreign countrie.
XII
One day as he look’d his ring upon,
He saw the diamonds pale and wan.
XIII
He’s left the seas and he’s come to the land,
And the first that he met was an auld beggar man.
XIV
‘What news, what news? thou auld beggar man,
For it’s seven years sin I’ve seen land.’
XV
‘No news,’ said the beggar, ‘no news at a’,
But there is a wedding in the King’s ha’.
XVI
‘But there is a wedding in the King’s ha’
That has halden these forty days and twa.’
XVII
‘Cast off, cast off thy auld beggar weed[256],
And I’ll gi’e thee my gude grey steed:
XVIII
‘And lend to me your wig o’ hair
To cover mine, because it is fair.’--
XIX
‘My begging weed is na for thee,
Your riding steed is na for me.’
XX
But part by right and part by wrang
Hynd Horn has changed wi’ the beggar man.
XXI
The auld beggar man was bound for to ride,
But young Hynd Horn was bound for the bride.
XXII
When he came to the King’s gate,
He sought a drink for Hynd Horn’s sake.
XXIII
The bride came trippin’ down the stair,
Wi’ the scales o’ red gowd in her hair;
XXIV
Wi’ a cup o’ the red wine in her hand,
And that she gae to the auld beggar man.
XXV
Out o’ the cup he drank the wine,
And into the cup he dropt the ring.
XXVI
‘O got ye this by sea or land?
Or got ye it of a dead man’s hand?’--
XXVII
‘I got it na by sea nor land,
But I got it, madam, of your own hand.’
XXVIII
‘O, I’ll cast off my gowns o’ brown,
And beg with you frae town to town.
XXIX
‘O, I’ll cast off my gowns o’ red,
And I’ll beg wi’ you to win my bread.
XXX
‘O I’ll take the scales o’ gowd frae my hair,
And I’ll follow you for evermair.’
XXXI
She has cast awa’ the brown and the red,
And she’s follow’d him to beg her bread.
XXXII
She has ta’en the scales o’ gowd frae her hair
And she’s follow’d him for evermair.
XXXIII
But atween the kitchen and the ha’
He has let his cloutie[257] cloak down fa’.
XXXIV
And the red gowd shinèd over him a’,
_With a hey lillelu, and a how lo lan_;
And the bride frae the bridegroom was stown[258] awa’,
_And the birk and the broom blows bonnie_.
FOOTNOTES:
[255] laverocks = larks.
[256] weed = clothes.
[257] cloutie = full of clouts, patched.
[258] stown = stolen.
_36. Hynd Etin_
I
May Margaret sits in her bower door
Sewing her silken seam;
She heard a note in Elmond’s wood,
And wish’d she there had been.
II
She loot[259] the seam fa’ frae her side,
The needle to her tae[260],
And she is on to Elmond’s wood
As fast as she could gae.
III
She hadna pu’d a nut, a nut,
Nor broken a branch but ane,
Till by there came the Hynd Etin,
Says, ‘Lady, lat alane.
IV
‘O why pu’ ye the nut, the nut,
Or why break ye the tree?
For I am forester o’ this wood:
Ye should spier[261] leave at me.’--
V
‘I’ll ask leave at nae living man,
Nor yet will I at thee;
My father is king o’er a’ this realm,
This wood belongs to me.’
VI
The highest tree in Elmond’s wood,
He’s pu’d it by the reet[262],
And he has built for her a bower
Near by a hallow seat[263].
VII
He’s kept her there in Elmond’s wood
For six lang years and ane,
Till six pretty sons to him she bare,
And the seventh she’s brought hame.
VIII
It fell out ance upon a day
He’s to the hunting gane,
And a’ to carry his game for him
He’s tane his eldest son.
IX
‘A question I will ask, father,
Gin ye wadna angry be.’--
‘Say on, say on, my bonny boy,
Ye’se nae be quarrell’d by me.’
X
‘I see my mither’s cheeks aye weet,
I never can see them dry;
And I wonder what aileth my mither
To mourn [sae constantly].’--
XI
‘Your mither was a king’s daughtèr,
Sprung frae a high degree;
She might hae wed some worthy prince
Had she na been stown[264] by me.
XII
‘Your mither was a king’s daughtèr
Of noble birth and fame,
But now she’s wife o’ Hynd Etin,
Wha ne’er gat christendame.
XIII
‘But we’ll shoot the buntin’ o’ the bush,
The linnet o’ the tree,
And ye’se tak’ them hame to your dear mither,
See if she’ll merrier be.’
XIV
It fell upon anither day,
He’s to the hunting gane
And left his seven [young] children
To stay wi’ their mither at hame.
XV
‘O I will tell to you, mither,
Gin ye wadna angry be.’--
‘Speak on, speak on, my little wee boy,
Ye’se nae be quarrell’d by me.’--
XVI
‘As we came frae the hind-hunting,
We heard fine music ring.’--
‘My blessings on you, my bonny boy,
I wish I’d been there my lane.’
XVII
They wistna weel where they were gaen,
Wi’ the stratlins[265] o’ their feet;
They wistna weel where they were gaen,
Till at her father’s yate[266].
XVIII
‘I hae nae money in my pocket,
But royal rings hae three;
I’ll gie them you, my little young son,
And ye’ll walk there for me.
XIX
‘Ye’ll gi’e the first to the proud portèr
And he will let you in;
Ye’ll gi’e the next to the butler-boy
And he will show you ben[267];
XX
‘Ye’ll gi’e the third to the minstrel
That plays before the King;
He’ll play success to the bonny boy
Came thro’ the wood him lane.’
XXI
He ga’e the first to the proud portèr
And he open’d and let him in;
He ga’e the next to the butler-boy,
And he has shown him ben.
XXII
He ga’e the third to the minstrel
That play’d before the King,
And he play’d success to the bonny boy
Came thro’ the wood him lane.
XXIII
Now when he came before the King,
Fell low upon his knee;
The King he turn’d him round about,
And the saut tear blint[268] his e’e.
XXIV
‘Win up, win up, my bonny boy,
Gang frae my companie;
Ye look sae like my dear daughtèr,
My heart will burst in three.’--
XXV
‘If I look like your dear daughtèr,
A wonder it is none;
If I look like your dear daughtèr,
I am her eldest son.’--
XXVI
‘Will ye tell me, ye little wee boy,
Where may my Margaret be?’--
‘She’s just now standing at your yates,
And my six brithers her wi’.’--
XXVII
‘O where are a’ my porter-boys
That I pay meat and fee,
To open my yates baith wide and braid,
Let her come in to me?’
XXVIII
When she cam’ in before the King,
Fell low down on her knee:
‘Win up, win up, my daughter dear,
This day ye’se dine wi’ me.’--
XXIX
‘Ae bit I canna eat, father,
Nor ae drop can I drink,
Until I see my mither dear,
For lang for her I think.’
XXX
When she cam’ in before the queen,
Fell low down on her knee;
‘Win up, win up, my daughter dear,
This day ye’se dine wi’ me.’--
XXXI
‘Ae bit I canna eat, mither,
Nor ae drop can I drink,
Until I see my sister dear,
For lang for her I think.’
XXXII
When that these twa sisters met,
She hail’d her courteouslie;
‘Come ben, come ben, my sister dear,
This day ye’se dine wi’ me.’--
XXXIII
‘Ae bit I canna eat, sister,
Nor ae drop can I drink,
Until I see my dear husband,
So lang for him I think.’--
XXXIV
‘O where are a’ my rangers bold
That I pay meat and fee,
To search the forest far an’ wide,
And bring Etin back to me?’
XXXV
Out it speaks the little wee boy:
‘Na, na, this mauna be;
Without ye grant a free pardon,
I hope ye’ll nae him see.’--
XXXVI
‘O here I grant a free pardon,
Well seal’d by my own han’;
Ye may mak’ search for Young Etin
As soon as ever ye can.’
XXXVII
They search’d the country wide and braid,
The forests far and near,
And they found him into Elmond’s wood,
Tearing his yellow hair.
XXXVIII
‘Win up, win up now, Hynd Etin,
Win up an’ boun[269] wi’ me;
We’re messengers come frae the court;
The King wants you to see.’--
XXXIX
‘O lat them tak’ frae me my head,
Or hang me on a tree;
For since I’ve lost my dear lady,
Life’s no pleasure to me.’--
XL
‘Your head will na be touch’d, Etin,
Nor you hang’d on a tree;
Your lady’s in her father’s court
And a’ he wants is thee.’
XLI
When he cam’ in before the King,
Fell low down on his knee;
‘Win up, win up now, Young Etin,
This day ye’se dine wi’ me.’
XLII
But as they were at dinner set
The wee boy ask’d a boon:
‘I wish we were in a good kirk
For to get christendoun.
XLIII
‘For we hae lived in gude green wood
This seven years and ane;
But a’ this time since e’er I mind
Was never a kirk within.’--
XLIV
‘Your asking’s na sae great, my boy,
But granted it sall be;
This day to gude kirk ye sall gang
And your mither sall gang you wi’.’
XLV
When unto the gude kirk she came,
She at the door did stan’;
She was sae sair sunk down wi’ shame,
She couldna come farther ben.
XLVI
Then out and spak’ the parish priest,
And a sweet smile ga’e he:
‘Come ben, come ben, my lily-flower,
Present your babes to me.’
XLVII
Charles, Vincent, Sam and Dick,
And likewise John and James;
They call’d the eldest Young Etin,
Which was his father’s name.
FOOTNOTES:
[259] loot = let.
[260] tae = toe.
[261] spier = ask.
[262] reet = root.
[263] hallow seat = holy man’s or hermit’s cave.
[264] stown = stolen.
[265] stratlins =? stragglings.
[266] yate = gate.
[267] ben = further in.
[268] blint = blinded.
[269] boun = go.
_37. Erlinton_
I
Erlinton had a fair daughter;
I wat he wear’d her in[270] a great sin;
For he has built a bigly bower,
And a’ to put that lady in.
II
An’ he has warn’d her sisters six,
An’ sae has he her brethren se’en,
Outher to watch her a’ the night,
Or else to seek her morn an’ e’en.
III
She hadna been i’ that bigly bower,
Na not a night but barely ane,
Till there was Willie, her ain true love,
Chapp’d[271] at the door, cryin’ ‘Peace within!’
IV
‘O whae is this at my bower door,
That chaps sae late, nor kens the gin[272]?’--
‘O it is Willie, your ain true love,
I pray you rise an’ let me in.’--
V
‘For a’ sae weel as I like ye, Willie,
For a’ sae weel as I ken the gin,
I wadna for ten thousand pounds, love,
Na, no this night wad I let ye in.
VI
‘But in the green-wood is a wake[273],
And at the wake there is a wane[274],
An’ there I’ll come as sune the morn, love,
Na, no a mile but barely ane.
VII
‘On my right hand I’ll have a glo’[275], love,
And on my left hand I’ll have nane;
I’ll have wi’ me my sisters six, love,
And we will wauk the wood our lane[276].’
VIII
Then she’s gane to her bed again,
She has layen till the cock crew thrice,
An’ then she said to her sisters a’,
‘Maidens, ’tis time for us to rise.’
IX
She pat on her back her silken gown,
An’ on her breast a siller pin,
An’ she’s ta’en her sisters by the hand,
An’ to the green-wood she is gane.
X
They hadna wauk’d in the bonny green-wood,
Na no an hour but barely ane,
Till up start Willie, her ain true love,
Wha frae her sisters has her ta’en.
XI
An’ he has kiss’d her sisters six,
An’ he has sent them hame again,
But he has keepit his ain true love,
Sayin’ ‘We’ll wauk the woods our lane.’
XII
They hadna wauk’d in the bonnie green-wood
Na no an hour but barely ane,
Till up start fifteen o’ the bravest outlaws
That ever bare either blood or bane.
XIII
Then up bespake the foremost knight,--
An’ O but he spake angrilỳ:
Says, ‘Yield to me thy ladye bright,
This night shall wauk the woods wi’ me.’--
XIV
‘I like her weel, my ladye bright,
And O my life but it lies me near!
But before I lose my ladye bright
I’ll rather lose my life sae dear.’
XV
But up an’ spake the second knight--
I wat he spake right boustruslie--
Says, ‘Baith your life an’ your ladye bright
This night shall wauk the woods wi’ me.’--
XVI
‘My ladye is my warldis meed[277]:
My life I winna yield to nane;
But if ye be men of your manheid,
Ye’ll only fight me ane by ane.--
XVII
‘O sit ye down, my dearest dear,
Sit down an’ hold my milk-white steed,
An’ see that ye dinna change your cheer
Until ye see my body bleed.’
XVIII
He set his back unto an aik[278],
He set his feet against a stane,
He’s feightin a’ these fifteen outlaws,
An’ kill’d them a’ but barely ane.
XIX
An’ he has gane to his ladye dear,
I wat he kiss’d her cheek an’ chin--
‘Thou art mine ain, I have bought thee dear,
An’ now we will wauk the woods our lane.’
FOOTNOTES:
[270] wear’d her in = led her into.
[271] chapp’d = knocked.
[272] gin = trick, or sleight, of the door-latch.
[273] wake (_obscure_).
[274] wane = dwelling, arbor.
[275] glo’ = glove.
[276] our lane = we alone.
[277] warldis meed = world’s reward, most precious thing in the world:
_or perhaps corrupted from_ warldis make, mate.
[278] aik = oak.
_38. Earl Brand_
I
O did ye ever hear o’ brave Earl Brand?
_Ay lally, o lilly lally_
He courted the King’s daughter o’ fair England
_All i’ the night sae early_.
II
She was scarcely fifteen years that tide[279]
Till sae boldly she came to his bedside.
III
‘O Earl Bran’, fain wad I see
A pack of hounds let loose on the lea.’--
IV
‘O lady, I have no steeds but one,
But thou shall ride, and I will run.’--
V
‘O Earl Bran’, my father has two,
And thou shall have the best of tho’.’--
VI
They have ridden o’er moss and moor,
And they have met neither rich nor poor,
VII
Until they met with old Carl Hood:
--He’s aye for ill and never for good.
VIII
‘Earl Bran’, if ye love me,
Seize this old carl, and gar him die.’--
IX
‘O lady fair, it wad be sair
To slay an old man that has grey hair.
X
‘O lady fair, I’ll no do sae;
I’ll gie him a pound and let him gae.’
XI
‘O where hae ye ridden this lee-lang[280] day?
Or where hae ye stolen this lady away?’--
XII
‘I have not ridden this lee-lang day,
Nor yet have I stolen this lady away.
XIII
‘She is my only, my sick sistèr,
Which I have brought from Winchester.’--
XIV
‘If she be sick and like to dead,
Why wears she the ribbon sae red?
XV
‘If she be sick and like to die,
Then why wears she the gold on high?’
XVI
When came the carl to this lady’s yett[281],
Rudely, rudely he rapp’d thereat.
XVII
‘O where’s the lady o’ this ha’?’--
‘She’s out with her maids to play at the ba’.’--
XVIII
‘Ha, ha, ha! ye are a’ mista’en;
Gae count your maidens o’er again.
XIX
‘I met her far beyond the lea,
With the young Earl Brand, his leman to be.’
XX
Her father arm’d of his men fifteen,
And they’re ridden after them all-by-dene[282].
XXI
O’er her left shoulder the lady look’d then:
‘O Earl Bran’, we both are ta’en!’--
XXII
‘If they come on me ane by ane,
Ye may stand by and see them slain.
XXIII
‘But if they come on me ane and all,
Ye may stand by and see me fall.’
XXIV
They have come on him ane by ane,
And fourteen men he has them slain.
XXV
But the fifteenth man behind stole round,
And he’s gi’en him a deadly wound.
XXVI
But for a’ sae wounded as Earl Brand was
He has set his lady on her horse.
XXVII
They rode till they came to the water o’ Doune.
And there he lighted to wash his wound.
XXVIII
‘O Earl Bran’, I see your heart’s bloud!’--
‘It’s na but the glent[283] o’ my scarlet hood.’
XXIX
They rode till they came to his mother’s yett,
So faint and feebly he rapp’d thereat.
XXX
‘O my son’s slain, he’s falling to swoun,
And a’ for the sake of an English loun!’--
XXXI
‘So say not sae, my dearest mother,
But marry her to my youngest brother.
XXXII
‘This has not been the death o’ ane,
But it’s been the death o’ fair seventeen.’
FOOTNOTES:
[279] tide = time, season.
[280] lee-lang = live-long.
[281] yett = gate.
[282] all-by-dene = all together.
[283] glent = gleam.
_39. The Douglas Tragedy_
I
‘Rise up, rise up, now Lord Douglas,’ she says,
‘And put on your armour so bright;
Let it never be said that a daughter of thine
Was married to a lord under night.
II
‘Rise up, rise up, my seven bold sons,
And put on your armour so bright,
And take better care of your youngest sister,
For your eldest’s awa the last night.’
III
He’s mounted her on a milk-white steed,
And himself on a dapple grey,
With a bugelet horn hung down his side;
And lightly they rode away.
IV
Lord William look’d o’er his left shoulder,
To see what he could see,
And there he spy’d her seven brethren bold
Come riding over the lea.
V
‘Light down, light down, Lady Margret,’ he said,
‘And hold my steed in your hand,
Until that against your seven brethren bold,
And your father, I mak’ a stand.’
VI
O, there she stood, and bitter she stood,
And never did shed one tear,
Until that she saw her seven brethren fa’,
And her father, who lov’d her so dear.
VII
‘O hold your hand, Lord William!’ she said,
‘For your strokes they are wondrous sair;
True lovers I can get many an ane,
But a father I can never get mair.’
VIII
O she’s ta’en out her handkerchief,
It was o’ the holland sae fine,
And aye she dighted[284] her father’s wounds,
That were redder than the wine.
IX
‘O chuse, O chuse, Lady Margret,’ he said,
‘O whether will ye gang or bide?’
‘I’ll gang, I’ll gang, Lord William,’ she said,
‘For ye’ve left me no other guide.’
X
He’s lifted her on a milk-white steed,
And himself on a dapple grey,
With a bugelet horn hung down by his side;
And slowly they baith rade away.
XI
O they rade on, and on they rade,
And a’ by the light of the moon,
Until they came to yon wan water,
And there they lighted doun.
XII
They lighted doun to tak’ a drink
Of the spring that ran sae clear,
And doun the stream ran his gude heart’s blood,
And sair she gan to fear.
XIII
‘Hold up, hold up, Lord William,’ she says,
‘For I fear that you are slain.’--
‘’Tis naething but the shadow of my scarlet cloak,
That shines in the water sae plain.’
XIV
O they rade on, and on they rade,
And a’ by the light of the moon,
Until they cam’ to his mother’s ha’ door,
And there they lighted doun.
XV
‘Get up, get up, lady mother,’ he says,
‘Get up, and let me in!
Get up, get up, lady mother,’ he says,
‘For this night my fair lady I’ve win.
XVI
‘O mak my bed, lady mother,’ he says,
‘O mak it braid and deep,
And lay Lady Margret close at my back,
And the sounder I will sleep.’
XVII
Lord William was dead lang ere midnight,
Lady Margret lang ere day,
And all true lovers that go thegither,
May they have mair luck than they!
XVIII
Lord William was buried in St. Mary’s kirk,
Lady Margret in Mary’s quire;
Out o’ the lady’s grave grew a bonny red rose,
And out o’ the knight’s a brier.
XIX
And they twa met, and they twa plat[285],
And fain they wad be near;
And a’ the warld might ken right weel
They were twa lovers dear.
XX
But bye and rade the Black Douglas,
And wow but he was rough!
For he pull’d up the bonny brier,
And flang ’t in St. Mary’s Lough.
FOOTNOTES:
[284] dighted = dressed.
[285] plat = pleated.
_40. Glasgerion_
I
Glasgerion was a King’s own son,
And a harper he was good;
He harpèd in the King’s chamber
Where cup and candle stood,
And so did he in the Queen’s chamber,
Till ladies waxèd wood[286].
II
And then bespake the King’s daughter
And these words thus said she:
[‘There’s never a stroke comes over this harp,
But it glads the heart of me.’]
III
Said, ‘Strike on, strike on, Glasgerion,
Of thy striking do not blin[287];
There’s never a stroke comes over thine harp
But it glads my heart within.’
IV
‘Fair might you fall, lady,’ quoth he;
‘Who taught you now to speak?
I have loved you, lady, seven year;
My heart I durst ne’er break.’--
V
‘But come to my bower, my Glasgerion,
When all men are at rest;
As I am a lady true of my promise,
Thou shalt be a welcome guest.’
VI
But home then came Glasgerion,
A glad man, Lord, was he!
‘And come thou hither, Jack, my boy,
Come hither unto me.
VII
‘For the King’s daughter of Normandye
Her love is granted me;
And before the cock have crowen
At her chamber must I be.’
VIII
‘But come you hither, master,’ quoth he,
‘Lay your head down on this stone;
For I will waken you, master dear,
Afore it be time to gone.’
IX
But up then rose that lither[288] lad,
And did on hose and shoon;
A collar he cast upon his neck,
He seemèd a gentleman.
X
And when he came to that lady’s chamber
He tirl’d[289] upon a pin;
The lady was true of her promise,
Rose up and let him in.
XI
He did not kiss that lady gay
When he came nor when he yode[290];
And sore mistrusted that lady gay
He was of some churle’s blood.
XII
But home then came that lither lad,
And did off his hose and shoon,
And cast that collar from ’bout his neck;
He was but a churlè’s son:
‘Awaken,’ quoth he, ‘my master dear,
I hold it time to be gone.
XIII
‘For I have saddled your horse, master,
Well bridled I have your steed;
Have not I served a good breakfast
When time comes I have need?’
XIV
But up then rose good Glasgerion,
And did on both hose and shoon,
And cast a collar about his neck;
He was a Kingé’s son.
XV
And when he came to that lady’s chamber,
He tirl’d upon a pin;
The lady was more than true of her promise,
Rose up, and let him in.
XVI
Says, ‘Whether have you left with me
Your bracelet or your glove?
Or are you back return’d again
To know more of my love?’
XVII
Glasgerion swore a full great oath
By oak and ash and thorn,
‘Lady, I was never in your chamber
Sith the time that I was born.’--
XVIII
‘O then it was your little foot-page
Falsely hath beguiled me’:
And then she pull’d forth a little pen-knife
That hangèd by her knee,
Says, ‘There shall never no churlè’s blood
Spring within my bodye.’
XIX
But home then went Glasgerion,
A woe man, Lord, was he;
Sayes, ‘Come hither, thou Jack, my boy,
Come thou hither to me.
XX
‘For if I had kill’d a man to-night,
Jack, I would tell it thee,
But if I have not kill’d a man to-night,
Jack, thou hast killéd three!’
XXI
And he pull’d out his bright brown sword,
And dried it on his sleeve,
And he smote off that lither lad’s head
And ask’d no man no leave.
XXII
He set the sword’s point till his breast,
The pommel till a stone;
Through the falseness of that lither lad
These three lives wern all gone.
FOOTNOTES:
[286] wood = crazy, wild with delight.
[287] blin = stint, cease.
[288] lither = rascally, vile.
[289] tirl’d = rattled.
[290] yode = went.
_41. King Estmere_
I
Hearken to me, gentlemen,
Come and you shall heare;
Ile tell you of two of the boldest brether
That ever bornè were.
II
The tone of them was Adler Younge,
The tother was Kyng Estmere;
They were as bolde men in their deeds
As any were, farr and neare.
III
As they were drinking ale and wine
Within his brother’s hall,
‘When will ye marry a wyfe, brother,
A wyfe to glad us all?’
IV
Then bespake him Kyng Estmere,
And answered him hartilye:
‘I know not that ladye in any land,
That’s able to marrye with mee.’--
V
‘Kyng Adland hath a daughter, brother,
Men call her bright and sheene;
If I were kyng here in your stead,
That ladye shold be my queene.’--
VI
Saies, ‘Reade me, reade me, deare brother,
Throughout merry England,
Where we might find a messenger
Betwixt us towe to sende.’--
VII
Saies, ‘You shal ryde yourselfe, brother,
Ile beare you companye;
Many a man throughe fals messengers is deceived,
And I feare lest soe shold wee.’
VIII
Thus they renisht[291] them to ryde,
Of twoe good renisht steeds,
And when they came to Kyng Adland’s halle,
Of redd gold shone their weeds[292].
IX
And when they came to Kyng Adland’s halle,
Before the goodlye gate,
There they found good Kyng Adland
Rearing[293] himselfe theratt.
X
‘No
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