Transcriber's Notes

Linenotes have been grouped at the end of each ballad or ballad section. Linenote anchors have been added to the text which provide a link to the appropriate note.

Irregular and inconsistent spellings have been retained as in the original. Typographical errors such as wrongly placed line numbers, punctuation or inconsistent formatting have been corrected without comment. Where changes have been made to the wording these are listed at the[ end of the book].

ENGLISH AND SCOTTISH
BALLADS.

EDITED BY
FRANCIS JAMES CHILD.

VOLUME IV.

BOSTON:
LITTLE, BROWN AND COMPANY.
M.DCCC.LX.

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1857 by Little, Brown and Company, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Massachusetts.

RIVERSIDE, CAMBRIDGE:
STEREOTYPED AND PRINTED BY
H. O. HOUGHTON AND COMPANY.

BOOK IV.

CONTINUED.

CONTENTS OF VOLUME FOURTH.

BOOK IV. (continued.)

APPENDIX.

YOUNG BEICHAN AND SUSIE PYE.

An inspection of the first hundred lines of Robert of Gloucester's Life and Martyrdom of Thomas Beket, (edited for the Percy Society by W. H. Black, vol. xix,) will leave no doubt that the hero of this ancient and beautiful tale is veritably Gilbert Becket, father of the renowned Saint Thomas of Canterbury. Robert of Gloucester's story coincides in all essential particulars with the traditionary legend, but Susie Pye is, unfortunately, spoken of in the chronicle by no other name than the daughter of the Saracen Prince Admiraud.

We have thought it well to present the three best versions of so popular and interesting a ballad. The two which are given in the body of this work are Jamieson's, from Popular Ballads, ii. 117, and ii. 127. [In the Appendix is Kinloch's], from Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 260. Other printed copies are Lord Beichan, in Richardson's Borderer's Table Book, vii. 20, communicated by J. H. Dixon, who has inserted the same in Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs, Percy Society, vol. xvii. p. 85; Lord Bateman, the common

English broadside (at p. 95 of the collection just cited); and Young Bondwell, published from Buchan's MS. in Scottish Traditionary Versions of Ancient Ballads, p. 1, (Percy Soc. vol. xvii.) identical, we suppose, with the copy referred to by Motherwell in Scarce Ancient Ballads, Peterhead, 1819. There is a well-known burlesque of the ordinary English ballad, called The Loving Ballad of Lord Bateman, with comical illustrations by Cruikshank. On this was founded a burlesque drama, produced some years ago at the Strand Theatre, London, with great applause.

"This ballad, and that which succeeds it in this collection, (both on the same subject,) are given from copies taken from Mrs. Brown's recitation, collated with two other copies procured from Scotland, one in MS., another very good one printed for the stalls; a third, in the possession of the late Reverend Jonathan Boucher of Epsom, taken from recitation in the North of England; and a fourth, about one third as long as the others, which the Editor picked off an old wall in Piccadilly."

Jamieson's interpolations have been omitted.

In London was young Beichan born,
He longed strange countries for to see;
But he was taen by a savage moor,
Who handled him right cruellie;

For he viewed the fashions of that land;5
Their way of worship viewed he;
But to Mahound, or Termagant,
Would Beichan never bend a knee.

So in every shoulder they've putten a bore;
In every bore they've putten a tree;10
And they have made him trail the wine
And spices on his fair bodie.

They've casten him in a dungeon deep,
Where he could neither hear nor see;
For seven years they kept him there,15
Till he for hunger's like to die.

This Moor he had but ae daughter,
Her name was called Susie Pye;
And every day as she took the air,
Near Beichan's prison she passed by.20

O so it fell, upon a day
She heard young Beichan sadly sing;
"My hounds they all go masterless;
My hawks they flee from tree to tree;
My younger brother will heir my land;25
Fair England again I'll never see!"

All night long no rest she got,
Young Beichan's song for thinking on;
She's stown the keys from her father's head,
And to the prison strong is gone.30

And she has open'd the prison doors,
I wot she open'd two or three,
Ere she could come young Beichan at,
He was locked up so curiouslie.

But when she came young Beichan before,35
Sore wonder'd he that may to see;
He took her for some fair captive;—
"Fair Lady, I pray, of what countrie?"

"O have ye any lands," she said,
"Or castles in your own countrie,40
That ye could give to a lady fair,
From prison strong to set you free?"

"Near London town I have a hall,
With other castles two or three;
I'll give them all to the lady fair45
That out of prison will set me free."

"Give me the truth of your right hand,
The truth of it give unto me,
That for seven years ye'll no lady wed,
Unless it be along with me."50

"I'll give thee the truth of my right hand,
The truth of it I'll freely gie,
That for seven years I'll stay unwed,
For the kindness thou dost show to me."

And she has brib'd the proud warder55
Wi' mickle gold and white monie;
She's gotten the keys of the prison strong,
And she has set young Beichan free.

She's gi'en him to eat the good spice-cake,
She's gi'en him to drink the blood-red wine;
She's bidden him sometimes think on her,60
That sae kindly freed him out of pine.

She's broken a ring from her finger,
And to Beichan half of it gave she:
"Keep it, to mind you of that love65
The lady bore that set you free.

"And set your foot on good ship-board,
And haste ye back to your own countrie;
And before that seven years have an end,
Come back again, love, and marry me."70

But long ere seven years had an end,
She long'd full sore her love to see;
For ever a voice within her breast
Said, "Beichan has broke his vow to thee."
So she's set her foot on good ship-board,75
And turn'd her back on her own countrie.

She sailed east, she sailed west,
Till to fair England's shore she came;
Where a bonny shepherd she espied,
Feeding his sheep upon the plain.80

"What news, what news, thou bonny shepherd?
What news hast thou to tell to me?"
"Such news I hear, ladie," he says,
"The like was never in this countrie.

"There is a wedding in yonder hall,85
Has lasted these thirty days and three;
Young Beichan will not bed with his bride,
For love of one that's yond the sea."

She's put her hand in her pocket,
Gi'en him the gold and white monie;90
"Hae, take ye that, my bonny boy,
For the good news thou tell'st to me."

When she came to young Beichan's gate,
She tirled softly at the pin;
So ready was the proud porter95
To open and let this lady in.

"Is this young Beichan's hall," she said,
"Or is that noble lord within?"
"Yea, he's in the hall among them all,
And this is the day o' his weddin."100

"And has he wed anither love?
And has he clean forgotten me?"
And, sighin', said that gay ladie,
"I wish I were in my own conntrie."

And she has taen her gay gold ring,105
That with her love she brake so free;
Says, "Gie him that, ye proud porter,
And bid the bridegroom speak to me."

[ When the porter came his lord before,
He kneeled down low on his knee——110
"What aileth thee, my proud porter,
Thou art so full of courtesie?"
]

"I've been porter at your gates,
It's thirty long years now and three;
But there stands a lady at them now,115
The like o' her did I never see;

"For on every finger she has a ring,
And on her mid finger she has three;
And as meickle gold aboon her brow
As would buy an earldom to me."120

Its out then spak the bride's mother,
Aye and an angry woman was shee;
"Ye might have excepted our bonny bride,
And twa or three of our companie."

"O hold your tongue, thou bride's mother;125
Of all your folly let me be;
She's ten times fairer nor the bride,
And all that's in your companie.

"She begs one sheave of your white bread,
But and a cup of your red wine;130
And to remember the lady's love,
That last reliev'd you out of pine."

"O well-a-day!" said Beichan then,
"That I so soon have married thee!
For it can be none but Susie Pye,145
That sailed the sea for love of me."

And quickly hied he down the stair;
Of fifteen steps he made but three;
He's ta'en his bonny love in his arms,
And kist, and kist her tenderlie.150

"O hae ye ta'en anither bride?
And hae ye quite forgotten me?
And hae ye quite forgotten her,
That gave you life and libertie?"

She looked o'er her left shoulder,145
To hide the tears stood in her e'e:
"Now fare thee well, young Beichan," she says,
"I'll try to think no more on thee."

"O never, never, Susie Pye,
For surely this can never be;150
Nor ever shall I wed but her
That's done and dree'd so much for me."

Then out and spak the forenoon bride,—
"My lord, your love it changeth soon;
This morning I was made your bride,155
And another chose ere it be noon."

"O hold thy tongue, thou forenoon bride;
Ye're ne'er a whit the worse for me;
And whan ye return to your own countrie,
A double dower I'll send with thee."160

He's taen Susie Pye by the white hand,
And gently led her up and down;
And ay as he kist her red rosy lips,
"Ye're welcome, jewel, to your own."

He's taen her by the milk-white hand,165
And led her to yon fountain stane;
He's changed her name from Susie Pye,
And he's call'd her his bonny love, Lady Jane.

[109-112].

But when he came Lord Jockey before,
He kneeled lowly on his knee:
"What news, what news, thou Tommy Pots,
Thou art so full of courtesie?"

The Lovers' Quarrel, v. 133-136.

YOUNG BEKIE.

Young Bekie was as brave a knight
As ever sail'd the sea;
And he's doen him to the [court o' France],
To serve for meat and fee.

He hadna been in the court o' France5
A twelvemonth nor sae lang,
Till he fell in love wi' the king's daughter,
And was thrown in prison strang.

The king he had but ae daughter,
Burd Isbel was her name;10
And she has to the prison gane,
To hear the prisoner's mane.

"O gin a lady wad borrow me,
At her stirrup I wad rin;
Or gin a widow wad borrow me,15
I wad swear to be her son.

"Or gin a virgin wad borrow me,
I wad wed her wi' a ring;
I'd gi'e her ha's, I'd gi'e her bowers,
The bonny towers o' Linne."20

O barefoot barefoot gaed she but,
And barefoot cam she ben;
It wasna for want o' hose and shoon,
Nor time to put them on;

But a' for fear that her father25
Had heard her makin' din;
For she's stown the keys of the prison,
And gane the dungeon within.

And when she saw him, young Bekie,
Wow, but her heart was sair!30
For the mice, but and the bald rattons,
Had eaten his yellow hair.

She's gotten him a shaver for his beard,
A comber till his hair;
Five hundred pound in his pocket,35
To spend, and nae to spare.

She's gi'en him a steed was good in need,
And a saddle o' royal bane;
A leash o' hounds o' ae litter,
And Hector called ane.40

Atween thir twa a vow was made,
'Twas made full solemnlie,
That or three years were come and gane,
Weel married they should be.

He hadna been in's ain countrie45
A twelvemonth till an end,
Till he's forced to marry a duke's daughter,
Or than lose a' his land.

"Ochon, alas!" says young Bekie,
"I kenna what to dee;50
For I canna win to Burd Isbel,
And she canna come to me."

O it fell out upon a day
Burd Isbel fell asleep,
And up it starts the Billy Blin,55
And stood at her bed feet.

"O waken, waken, Burd Isbel;
How can ye sleep so soun';
When this is Bekie's wedding day,

And the marriage gaing on?60

"Ye do ye till your mither's bower,
As fast as ye can gang;
And ye tak three o' your mother's marys,
To haud ye unthocht lang.

"Ye dress yoursel i' the red scarlet,65
And your marys in dainty green;
And ye put girdles about your middle
Wad buy an earldome.

"Syne ye gang down by yon sea-side,
And down by yon sea-strand;70
And bonny will the Hollans boats
Come rowin' till your hand.

"Ye set your milk-white foot on board,
Cry, 'Hail ye, Domine!'
And I will be the steerer o't,75
To row you o'er the sea."

She's ta'en her till her mither's bower,
As fast as she could gang;
And she's ta'en twa o' her mither's marys,
To haud her unthocht lang.80

She's drest hersel i' the red scarlet,
Her marys i' the dainty green;
And they've put girdles about their middle
Would buy an earldome.

And they gaed down by yon sea-side,85
And down by yon sea-strand;
And sae bonny as the Hollans boats
Come rowin' till their hand.

She set her milk-white foot on board,
Cried, "Hail ye, Domine!"90
And the Billy Blin was the steerer o't,
To row her o'er the sea.

Whan she cam to young Bekie's gate,
She heard the music play;
And her mind misgae by a' she heard,95
That 'twas his wedding day.

She's pitten her hand in her pocket,
Gi'en the porter markis three;
"Hae, take ye that, ye proud porter,
Bid your master speake to me."100

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

"O I have been porter at your gates105
This thirty years and three;
But there are three ladies at them now,
Their like I did never see.

"There's ane o' them drest in red scarlet,
And twa in dainty green;110
And they hae girdles about their middles
Would buy an earldome."

Then out and spak the bierdly bride,
"Was a' goud to the chin;
"Gin she be fine without," she says,115
"We's be as fine within."

Then up it starts him, young Bekie,
And the tear was in his e'e:
"I'll lay my life it's Burd Isbel,
Come o'er the sea to me."120

O quickly ran he down the stair;
And whan he saw 'twas she,
He kindly took her in his arms,
And kist her tenderlie.

"O hae ye forgotten now, young Bekie,125
The vow ye made to me,
When I took you out of prison strang,
When ye was condemned to die?

"I gae you a steed was good in need,
And a saddle o' royal bane;130
A leash o' hounds o' ae litter;
And Hector called ane."

It was weel kent what the lady said,
That it was nae a lie;
For at the first word the lady spak,135
The hound fell at her knee.

"Tak hame, tak hame your daughter dear;
A blessing gang her wi';
For I maun marry my Burd Isbel,
That's come o'er the sea to me."140

"Is this the custome o' your house,
Or the fashion o' your land,
To marry a maid in a May morning,
Send her back a maid at e'en?"

[3]. Court o' France. "And first, here to omit the programe of him and his mother, named Rose, whom Polyd. Virgilius falsely nameth to be a Saracen, when indeed she came out of the parts bordering neere to Normandy." Fox, Acts and Monuments, cited by Motherwell, p. xvi.

HYND HORN.

Those metrical romances, which in the chivalrous ages, constituted the most refined pastime of a rude nobility, are known in many cases to have been adapted for the entertainment of humbler hearers, by abridgment in the form of ballads. Such was the case with the ancient gest of King Horn. Preserved in several MSS., both French and English, in something of its original proportions, an epitome of it has also descended to us through the mouths of the people.

An imperfect copy of the following piece was inserted by Cromek in his Select Scottish Songs, (London, 1810, vol. ii. p. 204-210.) Better editions have since been furnished by Kinloch, Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 138; [Motherwell], Minstrelsy, p. 95; and [Buchan], Ballads of the North of Scotland, ii. 268. Of these, we reprint the last two.

All the poems relating to Horn, in French and English, including the Scottish ballads above mentioned, are collected by Michel in a beautiful volume of the Bannatyne Club, Horn et Rimenhild, Paris, 1845.

From Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 35.

Near Edinburgh was a young child born,
With a hey lillelu and a how lo lan;
And his name it was called Young Hynd Horn,
And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie.

Seven lang years he served the King,5
With a hey lillelu and a how lo lan;
And it's a' for the sake of his dochter Jean,
And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie.

The King an angry man was he,
With a hey lillelu and a how lo lan;10
He sent young Hynd Horn to the sea,
And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie.

"O I never saw my love before,
With a hey lillelu and a how lo lan;
Till I saw her thro' an augre bore,15
And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie.

"And she gave to me a gay gold ring,
With a hey lillelu and a how lo lan;
With three shining diamonds set therein,

And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie.20

"And I gave to her a silver wand,
With a hey lillelu and a how lo lan;
With three singing laverocks set thereon,
And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie.

"What if those diamonds lose their hue,25
With a hey lillelu and a how lo lan;
Just when my love begins for to rew,
And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie?"

"For when your ring turns pale and wan,
With a hey lillelu and a how lo lan;30
Then I'm in love with another man,
And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie."

He's left the land, and he's gone to the sea,
With a hey lillelu and a how lo lan;
And he's stayed there seven years and a day,35
And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie.

Seven lang years he has been on the sea,
With a hey lillelu and a how lo lan;
And Hynd Horn has looked how his ring may be,
And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie.40

But when he looked this ring upon,
With a hey lillelu and a how lo lan;
The shining diamonds were both pale and wan,
And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie.

O the ring it was both black and blue,45
With a hey lillelu and a how lo lan;
And she's either dead, or she's married,
And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie.

He's left the seas, and he's come to the land,
With a hey lillelu and a how lo lan;50
And the first he met was an auld beggar man,
And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie.

"What news, what news, my silly auld man?
With a hey lillelu and a how lo lan;
For it's seven years since I have seen land,55
And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie.

"What news, what news, thou auld beggar man?
With a hey lillelu and a how lo lan;
What news, what news, by sea or land?
And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie."60

"No news at all," said the auld beggar man,
With a hey lillelu and a how lo lan;
"But there is a wedding in the King's hall,
And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie.

"There is a King's dochter in the West,65
With a hey lillelu and a how lo lan;
And she has been married thir nine nights past,
And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie.

"Into the bride-bed she winna gang,
With a hey lillelu and a how lo lan;70
Till she hears tell of her ain Hynd Horn,
And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie."

"Wilt thou give to me thy begging coat?
With a hey lillelu and a how lo lan;
And I'll give to thee my scarlet cloak,75
And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie.

"Wilt thou give to me thy begging staff?
With a hey lillelu and a how lo lan;
And I'll give to thee my good gray steed,
And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie."80

The auld beggar man cast off his coat,
With a hey lillelu and a how lo lan;
And he's ta'en up the scarlet cloak,
And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie.

The auld beggar man threw down his staff,85
With a hey lillelu and a how lo lan;
And he has mounted the good gray steed,
And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie.

The auld beggar man was bound for the mill,
With a hey lillelu and a how lo lan;90
But young Hynd Horn for the King's hall,
And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie.

The auld beggar man was bound for to ride,
With a hey lillelu and a how lo lan;
But young Hynd Horn was bound for the bride,95
And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie.

When he came to the King's gate,
With a hey lillelu and a how lo lan;
He asked a drink for young Hynd Horn's sake,
And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie.100

These news unto the bonnie bride came,
With a hey lillelu and a how lo lan;
That at the yett there stands an auld man,
And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie.

"There stands an auld man at the King's gate,105
With a hey lillelu and a how lo lan;
He asketh a drink for young Hynd Horn's sake,
And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie.

"I'll go through nine fires so hot,
With a hey lillelu and a how lo lan;110
But I'll give him a drink for young Hynd Horn's sake,
And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie."

She went to the gate where the auld man did stand,
With a hey lillelu and a how lo lan;

And she gave him a drink out of her own hand,115
And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie.

She gave him a cup out of her own hand,
With a hey lillelu and a how lo lan;
He drunk out the drink, and dropt in the ring,
And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie.120

"Got thou it by sea, or got thou it by land?
With a hey lillelu and a how lo lan;
Or got thou it off a dead man's hand?
And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie."

"I got it not by sea, but I got it by land,125
With a hey lillelu and a how lo lan;
For I got it out of thine own hand,
And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie."

"I'll cast off my gowns of brown,
With a hey lillelu and a how lo lan;130
And I'll follow thee from town to town,
And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie.

"I'll cast off my gowns of red,
With a hey lillelu and a how lo lan;
And along with thee I'll beg my bread,135
And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie."

"Thou need not cast off thy gowns of brown,
With a hey lillelu and a how lo lan;

For I can make thee lady of many a town,
And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie.140

"Thou need not cast off thy gowns of red,
With a hey lillelu and a how lo lan;
For I can maintain thee with both wine and bread,
And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie."

The bridegroom thought he had the bonnie bride wed,145
With a hey lillelu and a how lo lan;
But young Hynd Horn took the bride to the bed,
And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie.

HYND HORN.

From Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, ii. 268.

"Hynd Horn fair, and Hynd Horn free,
O where were you born, in what countrie?"
"In gude greenwood, there I was born,
And all my forbears me beforn.

"O seven years I served the king,5
And as for wages, I never gat nane;
But ae sight o' his ae daughter,
And that was thro' an augre bore.

"My love gae me a siller wand,
'Twas to rule ower a' Scotland;10
And she gae me a gay gowd ring,
The virtue o't was above a' thing."

"As lang's this ring it keeps the hue,
Ye'll know I am a lover true;
But when the ring turns pale and wan,15
Ye'll know I love another man."

He hoist up sails, and awa' sail'd he,
And sail'd into a far countrie;
And when he look'd upon his ring,
He knew she loved another man.20

He hoist up sails and home came he,
Home unto his ain countrie;
The first he met on his own land,
It chanc'd to be a beggar man.

"What news, what news, my gude auld man?25
What news, what news, hae ye to me?"
"Nae news, nae news," said the auld man,
"The morn's our queen's wedding day."

"Will ye lend me your begging weed,
And I'll lend you my riding steed?"30
"My begging weed will ill suit thee,
And your riding steed will ill suit me."

But part be right, and part be wrang,
Frae the beggar man the cloak he wan;
"Auld man, come tell to me your leed,35
What news ye gie when ye beg your bread."

"As ye walk up unto the hill,
Your pike staff ye lend ye till;
But whan ye come near by the yett,

Straight to them ye will upstep.40

"Take nane frae Peter, nor frae Paul,
Nane frae high or low o' them all;
And frae them all ye will take nane,
Until it comes frae the bride's ain hand."

He took nane frae Peter, nor frae Paul,45
Nane frae the high nor low o' them all;
And frae them all he would take nane,
Until it came frae the bride's ain hand.

The bride came tripping down the stair,
The combs o' red gowd in her hair;50
A cup o' red wine in her hand,
And that she gae to the beggar man.

Out o' the cup he drank the wine,
And into the cup he dropt the ring;
"O got ye't by sea, or got ye't by land,55
Or got ye't on a drown'd man's hand?"

"I got it not by sea, nor got it by land,
Nor got I it on a drown'd man's hand;
But I got it at my wooing gay,
And I'll gie't you on your wedding day."60

"I'll take the red gowd frae my head,
And follow you, and beg my bread;
I'll take the red gowd frae my hair,
And follow you for evermair."

Atween the kitchen and the ha',65
He loot his cloutie cloak down fa';
And wi' red gowd shone ower them a',
And frae the bridegroom the bride he sta'.

KATHARINE JANFARIE.

A story similar to this occurs in various forms both in Scotland and the Scandinavian kingdoms. Scott inserted the ballad in his first edition under the title of The Laird of Laminton; the present copy is an improved one obtained by him from several recitations. (Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, iii. 122.) Other versions are [Motherwell's, printed with this], Maidment's, in his North Countrie Garland, p. 34, (Catharine Jaffery), and Buchan's, in his Gleanings, p. 74, (Loch-in-var.) Sweet William, in Motherwell's collection, ([see Appendix],) is still another variety.

Jamieson has translated a Danish ballad which, though not cognate with these, exhibits nearly the same incidents, and we have inserted it [in the Appendix].

It need hardly be remarked that the spirited ballad of Lochinvar in Marmion is founded on this ancient legend.

There was a may, and a weel-far'd may,
Lived high up in yon glen:
Her name was Katharine Janfarie,
She was courted by mony men.

Up then came Lord Lauderdale,5
Up frae the Lawland Border;
And he has come to court this may,
A' mounted in good order.

He told na her father, he told na her mother,
And he told na ane o' her kin;10
But he whisper'd the bonnie lassie hersell,
And has her favour won.

But out then cam Lord Lochinvar,
Out frae the English Border,
All for to court this bonny may,15
Weel mounted, and in order.

He told her father, he told her mother,
And a' the lave o' her kin;
But he told na the bonnie may hersell,
Till on her wedding e'en.20

She sent to the Lord o' Lauderdale,
Gin he wad come and see;
And he has sent word back again,
Weel answer'd she suld be.

And he has sent a messenger,25
Right quickly through the land,
And raised mony an armed man
To be at his command.

The bride looked out at a high window,
Beheld baith dale and down,30
And she was aware of her first true love,
With riders mony a one.

She scoffed him, and scorned him,
Upon her wedding day;
And said—it was the fairy court,35
To see him in array!

"O come ye here to fight, young lord,
Or come ye here to play,
Or come ye here to drink good wine
Upon the wedding day?"40

"I come na here to fight," he said,
"I come na here to play;
I'll but lead a dance wi' the bonny bride,
And mount, and go my way."

It is a glass of the blood-red wine45
Was filled up them between,
And aye she drank to Lauderdale,
Wha her true love had been.

He's ta'en her by the milk-white hand,
And by the grass-green sleeve;50
He's mounted her hie behind himsell,
At her kinsmen speir'd na leave.

"Now take your bride, Lord Lochinvar,
Now take her, if you may!
But if you take your bride again,55
We'll call it but foul play."

There were four-and-twenty bonnie boys,
A' clad in the Johnstone grey;
They said they would take the bride again,
By the strong hand, if they may.60

Some o' them were right willing men,
But they were na willing a';
And four-and-twenty Leader lads
Bid them mount and ride awa'.

Then whingers flew frae gentles' sides,65
And swords flew frae the shea's,
And red and rosy was the blood
Ran down the lily braes.

The blood ran down by Caddon bank,
And down by Caddon brae;70
And, sighing, said the bonnie bride,
"O wae's me for foul play!"

My blessing on your heart, sweet thing,
Wae to your wilfu' will!
There's mony a gallant gentleman75
Whae's bluid ye have garr'd to spill.

Now a' you lords of fair England,
And that dwell by the English Border,
Come never here to seek a wife,
For fear of sic disorder.80

They'll haik ye up, and settle ye bye,
Till on your wedding day,
Then gie ye frogs instead of fish,
And play ye foul foul play.

CATHERINE JOHNSTONE.

Obtained from recitation, in the West of Scotland. Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 225.

There was a lass, as I heard say,
Liv'd low doun in a glen;
Her name was Catherine Johnstone,
Weel known to many men.

Doun came the laird o' Lamington,5
Doun from the South Countrie;
And he is for this bonnie lass,
Her bridegroom for to be.

He's ask'd her father and mother,
The chief of a' her kin;10
And then he ask'd the bonnie lass,
And did her favour win.

Doun came an English gentleman,
Doun from the English border;
He is for this bonnie lass,15
To keep his house in order.

He ask'd her father and mother,
As I do hear them say;
But he never ask'd the lass hersell,
Till on her wedding day.20

But she has wrote a long letter,
And sealed it with her hand;
And sent it to Lord Lamington,
To let him understand.

The first line o' the letter he read,25
He was baith glad and fain;
But or he read the letter o'er,
He was baith pale and wan.

Then he has sent a messenger,
And out through all his land;30
And four-and-twenty armed men
Was all at his command.

But he has left his merry men all,
Left them on the lee;
And he's awa to the wedding house,35
To see what he could see.

But when he came to the wedding house,
As I do understand,
There were four-and-twenty belted knights

Sat at a table round.40

They rose all to honour him,
For he was of high renown;
They rose all for to welcome him,
And bade him to sit down.

O meikle was the good red wine45
In silver cups did flow;
But aye she drank to Lamington,
For with him would she go.

O meikle was the good red wine
In silver cups gaed round;50
At length they began to whisper words,
None could them understand.

"O came ye here for sport, young man,
Or came ye here for play?
Or came ye for our bonnie bride,55
On this her wedding day?"

"I came not here for sport," he said,
"Neither did I for play;
But for one word o' your bonnie bride,
I'll mount and go away."60

They set her maids behind her,
To hear what they would say;
But the first question he ask'd at her
Was always answered nay;
The next question he ask'd at her65
Was, "Mount and come away?"

It's up the Couden bank,
And doun the Couden brae;
And aye she made the trumpet sound,
It's a weel won play.70

O meikle was the blood was shed
Upon the Couden brae;
And aye she made the trumpet sound,
It's a' fair play.

Come, a' ye English gentlemen,75
That is of England born,
Come na doun to Scotland,
For fear ye get the scorn.

They'll feed ye up wi' flattering words,
And that's foul play;80
And they'll dress you frogs instead of fish,
Just on your wedding day.

BONNY BABY LIVINGSTON.

Jamieson's Popular Ballads, ii. 135, from Mrs. Brown's recitation. Barbara Livingston, a shorter piece, with a different catastrophe, is given [in the Appendix], from Motherwell's collection.

O bonny Baby Livingstone
Gaed out to view the hay;
And by it cam him Glenlyon,
Staw bonny Baby away.

And first he's taen her silken coat,5
And neist her satten gown;
Syne row'd her in his tartan plaid,
And happ'd her round and roun'.

He's mounted her upon a steed,
And roundly rade away;10
And ne'er loot her look back again
The lee-lang simmer day.

He's carried her o'er yon hich hich hill,
Intill a Highland glen,
And there he met his brother John15
Wi' twenty armed men.

And there were cows, and there were ewes,
And there were kids sae fair;
But sad and wae was bonny Baby,
Her heart was fu' o' care.20

He's taen her in his arms twa,
And kist her cheek and chin;
"I wad gi'e a' my flocks and herds,
Ae smile frae thee to win."

"A smile frae me ye'se never win;25
I'll ne'er look kind on thee;
Ye've stown me awa frae a' my kin,
Frae a' that's dear to me.

"Dundee, kind sir, Dundee, kind sir,
Tak me to bonny Dundee;30
For ye sall ne'er my favour win
Till it ance mair I see."

"Dundee, Baby! Dundee, Baby!
Dundee ye ne'er shall see;
But I will carry you to Glenlyon,35
Where you my bride shall be.

"Or will ye stay at Achingour,
And eat sweet milk and cheese;
Or gang wi' me to Glenlyon,
And there we'll live at our ease?"40

"I winna stay at Achingour;
I care neither for milk nor cheese;
Nor gang wi' thee to Glenlyon;
For there I'll ne'er find ease."

Then out it spak his brother John;45
"If I were in your place,
I'd send that lady hame again,
For a' her bonny face.

"Commend me to the lass that's kind,
Though nae sae gently born;50
And, gin her heart I coudna win,
To take her hand I'd scorn."

"O haud your tongue, my brother John;
Ye wisna what ye say;
For I hae lued that bonny face55
This mony a year and day.

"I've lued her lang, and lued her weel,
But her love I ne'er could win;
And what I canna fairly gain,

To steal I think nae sin."60

Whan they cam to Glenlyon castle,
They lighted at the yett;
And out they cam, his three sisters,
Their brother for to greet.

And they have taen her, bonny Baby,65
And led her o'er the green;
And ilka lady spak a word,
But bonny Baby spake nane.

Then out it spak her, bonny Jane,
The youngest o' the three:70
"O lady, why look ye sae sad?
Come tell your grief to me."

"O wharefore should I tell my grief,
Since lax I canna find?
I'm far frae a' my kin and friends,75
And my love I left behind.

"But had I paper, pen, and ink,
Afore that it were day,
I yet might get a letter wrate,
And sent to Johnie Hay.80

"And gin I had a bonny boy,
To help me in my need,
That he might rin to bonny Dundee,
And come again wi' speed!"

And they hae gotten a bonny boy85
Their errand for to gang;
And bade him run to Bonny Dundee,
And nae to tarry lang.

The boy he ran o'er muir and dale,
As fast as he could flee;90
And e'er the sun was twa hours hight,
The boy was at Dundee.

Whan Johnie lookit the letter on,
A hearty laugh leuch he;
But ere he read it till an end,95
The tear blinded his e'e.

"O wha is this, or wha is that,
Has stown my love frae me?
Although he were my ae brither,
An ill dead sall he die.100

"Gae, saddle to me the black," he says;
"Gae, saddle to me the brown;
Gae, saddle to me the swiftest steed,
That ever rade frae the town."

He's call'd upon his merry men a',105
To follow him to the glen;
And he's vow'd he'd neither eat nor sleep
Till he got his love again.

He's mounted him on a milk-white steed,
And fast he rade away;110
And he's come to Glenlyon's yett,
About the close o' day.

As Baby at her window stood,
And the west-wind saft did blaw,
She heard her Johnie's well-kent voice115
Aneath the castle wa'.

"O Baby, haste, the window loup;
I'll kep you in my arm;
My merry men a' are at the yett
To rescue you frae harm."120

She to the window fix'd her sheets,
And slipped safely down;
And Johnie catched her in his arms,
Ne'er loot her touch the groun'.

Glenlyon and his brother John125
Were birling in the ha',
When they heard Johnie's bridle ring
As fast he rade awa'.

"Rise, Jock; gang out and meet the priest;
I hear his bridle ring;130
My Baby now shall be my wife,
Before the laverock sing."

"O brother, this is nae the priest;
I fear he'll come o'er late;
For armed men wi' shining brands135
Stand at the castle yett."

"Haste, Donald, Duncan, Dugald, Hugh,
Haste, tak your sword and spear;
We'll gar these traytors rue the hour
That e'er they ventured here."140

The Highlandmen drew their claymores,
And gae a warlike shout;
But Johnie's merry men kept the yett,
Nae ane durst venture out.

The lovers rade the lee-lang night,145
And safe got on their way;
And Bonny Baby Livingstone
Has gotten Johny Hay.

"Awa, Glenlyon! fy for shame!
Gae hide you in some den;150
You've latten your bride be stown frae you,
For a' your armed men."

THE BROOM OF COWDENKNOWS.

Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, iii. 37. For other versions, see Bonny May, Herd's Scottish Songs, i. 159, and Johnson's Museum, p. 113; Broom o' the Cowdenknowes, Buchan, i. 172; Laird of Ochiltree, Kinloch, 160; Laird of Lochnie, Kinloch, 167.

O the broom, and the bonny bonny broom,
And the broom of the Cowdenknows!
And aye sae sweet as the lassie sang,
I' the bought, milking the ewes.

The hills were high on ilka side,5
An' the bought i' the lirk o' the hill,
And aye, as she sang, her voice it rang,
Out o'er the head o' yon hill.

There was a troup o' gentlemen
Came riding merrilie by,10
And one of them has rode out o' the way,
To the bought to the bonny may.

"Weel may ye save an' see, bonny lass,
An' weel may ye save an' see."—
"An' sae wi' you, ye weel-bred knight,15
And what's your will wi' me?"—

"The night is misty and mirk, fair may,
And I have ridden astray,
And will you be so kind, fair may,
As come out and point my way?"—20

"Ride out, ride out, ye ramp rider!
Your steed's baith stout and strang;
For out of the bought I dare na come,
For fear 'at ye do me wrang."—

"O winna ye pity me, bonny lass,25
O winna ye pity me?
An' winna ye pity my poor steed,
Stands trembling at yon tree?"—

"I wadna pity your poor steed,
Though it were tied to a thorn;30
For if ye wad gain my love the night,
Ye wad slight me ere the morn.

"For I ken you by your weel-busket hat,
And your merrie twinkling ee,
That ye're the Laird o' the Oakland hills,35
An' ye may weel seem for to be."

—

"But I am not the Laird o' the Oakland hills,
Ye're far mista'en o' me;
But I'm ane o' the men about his house,
An' right aft in his companie."—40

He's ta'en her by the middle jimp,
And by the grass-green sleeve;
He's lifted her over the fauld-dyke,
And speer'd at her sma' leave.

O he's ta'en out a purse o' gowd,45
And streek'd her yellow hair;
"Now, take ye that, my bonny may,
Of me till you hear mair."—

O he's leapt on his berry-brown steed,
An' soon he's o'erta'en his men;50
And ane and a' cried out to him,
"O master, ye've tarry'd lang!"—

"O I hae been east, and I hae been west,
An' I hae been far o'er the knowes,
But the bonniest lass that ever I saw55
Is i' the bought, milking the ewes."—

She set the cog upon her head,
An' she's gane singing hame;
"O where hae ye been, my ae daughter?

Ye hae na been your lane."—60

"O naebody was wi' me, father,
O naebody has been wi' me;
The night is misty and mirk, father,
Yee may gang to the door and see.

"But wae be to your ewe-herd, father,65
And an ill deed may he die;
He bug the bought at the back o' the knowe,
And a tod has frighted me.

"There came a tod to the bought door,
The like I never saw;70
And ere he had ta'en the lamb he did,
I had lourd he had ta'en them a'."—

O whan fifteen weeks was come and gane,
Fifteen weeks and three,
That lassie began to look thin and pale,75
An' to long for his merry-twinkling ee.

It fell on a day, on a het simmer day,
She was ca'ing out her father's kye,
Bye came a troop o' gentlemen,
A' merrilie riding bye.80

"Weel may ye save an' see, bonny may,
Weel may ye save and see!
Weel I wat, ye be a very bonny may,
But whae's aught that babe ye are wi'?"

—

Never a word could that lassie say,85
For never a ane could she blame,
An' never a word could the lassie say,
But "I have a gudeman at hame."—

"Ye lied, ye lied, my very bonny may,
Sae loud as I hear you lie;90
For dinna ye mind that misty night
I was i' the bought wi' thee?

"I ken you by your middle sae jimp,
An' your merry-twinkling ee,
That ye're the bonny lass i' the Cowdenknow,95
An' ye may weel seem for to be."—

Then he's leapt off his berry-brown steed,
An' he's set that fair may on—
"Ca' out your kye, gude father, yoursell,
For she's never ca' them out again.100

"I am the Laird of the Oakland hills,
I hae thirty plows and three;
An' I hae gotten the bonniest lass
That's in a' the south countrie."

JOHNIE SCOT.

The edition of this ballad here printed was prepared by Motherwell from three copies obtained from recitation, (Minstrelsy, p. 204.) Other versions have been published in Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 78, Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, i. 248, and his Gleanings, p. 122. The proper names which occur in the course of the piece vary considerably in the different copies. In two of Motherwell's, the hero's designation was Johnie Scot, in a third, Johnie M'Nauchton. In one of Buchan's he is styled Love John, in the other, Lang Johnny Moir. In Kinloch's copy, "Buneftan is his name," and he is also called "Jack that little Scot," which seems to have been the title of the ballad in an unpublished collection quoted by Ritson in his Dissertation on Scottish Song, p. lxxxi. In like manner, for the King of Aulsberry, (v. 111,) we have the various readings, Duke of Marlborough, Duke of Mulberry, Duke of York, and Duke of Winesberrie, and in the following verse, James the Scottish King, for the King of Spain.

The following passage, illustrative of the feat of arms accomplished by Johnie Scot, was pointed out to Motherwell by Mr. Sharpe:—James Macgill, of Lindores, having killed Sir Robert Balfour, of Denmiln, in a duel, "immediately went up to London in order to procure his pardon, which, it seems, the King (Charles the Second) offered to grant him, upon condition of his fighting an Italian gladiator, or bravo, or, as he was called, a bully, which, it is said, none could be found to do. Accordingly, a large stage was erected for the exhibition before the King and court. Sir James, it is said, stood on the defensive till the bully had spent himself a little; being a taller man than Sir James, in his mighty gasconading and bravadoing, he actually leapt over the knight as if he would swallow him alive; but, in attempting to do this a second time, Sir James ran his sword up through him, and then called out, 'I have spitted him, let them roast him who will.' This not only procured his pardon, but he was also knighted on the spot."—Small's Account of Roman Antiquities recently discovered in Fife, p. 217.

From Buchan's Lang Johnny Moir, [printed in the Appendix], it will be seen that the title of Little Scot is not to be taken literally, but that the doughty champion was a man of huge stature.

O Johnie Scot 's to the hunting gane,
Unto the woods sae wild;
And Earl Percy's ae daughter
To him goes big wi' child.

O word is to the kitchen gane,5
And word is to the ha',
And word is to the highest towers,
Among the nobles a'.

"If she be wi' child," her father said,
"As woe forbid it be!10
I'll put her into a prison strang,
And try the veritie."

"But if she be wi' child," her mother said,
"As woe forbid it be!
I'll put her intill a dungeon dark,15
And hunger her till she die."

O Johnie 's called his waiting man,
His name was Germanie:
"It 's thou must to fair England gae,
Bring me that gay ladie.20

"And here it is a silken sark,
Her ain hand sewed the sleeve;
Bid her come to the merry green wood,
To Johnie her true love."

He rode till he came to Earl Percy's gate,25
He tirled at the pin:
"O wha is there?" said the proud porter;
"But I daurna let thee in."

It's he rode up, and he rode down,
He rode the castle about,30
Until he spied a fair ladie
At a window looking out.

"Here is a silken sark," he said,
"Thy ain hand sewed the sleeve;
And ye must gae to the merry green woods,35
To Johnie Scot thy love."

"The castle it is high, my boy,
And walled round about;
My feet are in the fetters strong,
And how can I get out?40

"My garters are o' the gude black iron,
And O but they be cold;
My breast-plate's o' the sturdy steel,
Instead of beaten gold.

"But had I paper, pen, and ink,45
Wi' candle at my command,
It's I would write a lang letter
To John in fair Scotland."

Then she has written a braid letter,
And sealed it wi' her hand,50
And sent it to the merry green wood,
Wi' her own boy at command.

The first line of the letter Johnie read,
A loud, loud lauch leuch he;
But he had not read ae line but twa,55
Till the saut tears did blind his ee.

"O I must up to England go,
Whatever me betide,
For to relieve mine own fair ladie,
That lay last by my side."60

Then up and spak Johnie's auld mither,
A weel spoke woman was she:
"If you do go to England, Johnie,
I may take fareweel o' thee."

And out and spak his father then,65
And he spak well in time:
"If thou unto fair England go,
I fear ye'll ne'er come hame."

But out and spak his uncle then,
And he spak bitterlie:70
"Five hundred of my good life-guards
Shall bear him companie."

When they were all on saddle set,
They were comely to behold;
The hair that hung owre Johnie's neck shined75
Like the links o' yellow gold.

When they were all marching away,
Most pleasant for to see,
There was not so much as a married man
In Johnie's companie.80

Johnie Scot himsell was the foremost man
In the company that did ride;
His uncle was the second man,
Wi' his rapier by his side.

The first gude town that Johnie came to,85
He made the bells be rung;
And when he rode the town all owre,
He made the psalms be sung.

The next gude town that Johnie came to,
He made the drums beat round;90
And the third gude town that he came to,
He made the trumpets sound,
Till King Henry and all his merry men
A-marvelled at the sound.

And when they came to Earl Percy's yates,95
They rode them round about;
And who saw he but his own true love
At a window looking out?

"O the doors are bolted with iron and steel,

So are the windows about;100
And my feet they are in fetters strong;
And how can I get out?

"My garters they are of the lead,
And O but they be cold;
My breast-plate's of the hard, hard steel,105
Instead of beaten gold."

But when they came to Earl Percy's yett,
They tirled at the pin;
None was so ready as Earl Percy himsell
To open and let them in.110

"Art thou the King of Aulsberry,
Or art thou the King of Spain?
Or art thou one of our gay Scots lords,
M'Nachton be thy name?"

"I'm not the King of Aulsberry,115
Nor yet the King of Spain;
But am one of our gay Scots lords,
Johnie Scot I am called by name."

When Johnie came before the king,
He fell low down on his knee:120
"If Johnie Scot be thy name," he said,
"As I trew weel it be,
Then the brawest lady in a' my court
Gaes big wi' child to thee."

"If she be with child," fair Johnie said,125
"As I trew weel she be,
I'll make it heir owre a' my land,
And her my gay ladie."

"But if she be wi' child," her father said,
"As I trew weel she be,130
To-morrow again eight o'clock,
High hanged thou shalt be."

Out and spoke Johnie's uncle then,
And he spak bitterlie:
"Before that we see fair Johnie hanged,135
We'll a' fight till we die."

"But is there ever an [Italian] about your court,
That will fight duels three?
For before that I be hanged," Johnie said,
"On the [Italian's] sword I'll die."140

"Say on, say on," said then the king,
"It is weel spoken of thee;
For there is an [Italian] in my court
Shall fight you three by three."

O some is to the good green wood,145
And some is to the plain,

The queen with all her ladies fair,
The king with his merry men,
Either to see fair Johnie flee,
Or else to see him slain.150

They fought on, and Johnie fought on,
Wi' swords o' temper'd steel,
Until the draps o' red, red blood
Ran trinkling down the field.

They fought on, and Johnie fought on,155
They fought right manfullie;
Till they left not alive, in a' the king's court,
A man only but three.

And they begoud at eight of the morn,
And they fought on till three;160
When the [Italian], like a swallow swift,
Owre Johnie's head did flee:

But Johnie being a clever young boy,
He wheeled him round about;
And on the point of Johnie's broad-sword,165
The [Italian] he slew out.

"A priest, a priest," fair Johnie cried,
"To wed my love and me;"

"A clerk, a clerk," her father cried,
"To sum her tocher free."170

"I'll hae none of your gold," fair Johnie cried,
"Nor none of your other gear;
But I will have my own fair bride,
For this day I've won her dear."

He's ta'en his true love by the hand,175
He led her up the plain:
"Have you any more of your English dogs
You want for to have slain?"

He put a little horn to his mouth,
He blew 't baith loud and shill;180
And honour is into Scotland gone,
In spite of England's skill.

He put his little horn to his mouth,
He blew it owre again;
And aye the sound the horn cryed185
Was "Johnie and his men!"

[137], [140], [143], Taillant.

[161], [166] Taillant.

BROWN ADAM.

Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, iii. 159.

"There is a copy of this ballad in Mrs. Brown's collection. The editor has seen one, printed on a single sheet. The epithet, "Smith," implies, probably, the sirname, not the profession, of the hero, who seems to have been an outlaw. There is, however, in Mrs. Brown's copy, a verse of little merit, here omitted, alluding to the implements of that occupation." Scott.

O wha wad wish the wind to blaw,
Or the green leaves fa' therewith?
Or wha wad wish a lealer love
Than Brown Adam the Smith?

But they hae banished him, Brown Adam,5
Frae father and frae mother;
And they hae banish'd him, Brown Adam,
Frae sister and frae brother.

And they hae banish'd him, Brown Adam,
The flower o' a' his kin;10
And he's bigged a bour in gude green-wood
Atween his ladye and him.

It fell upon a summer's day,
Brown Adam he thought lang;
And, for to hunt some venison,15
To green-wood he wald gang.

He has ta'en his bow his arm o'er,
His bolts and arrows lang;
And he is to the gude green-wood
As fast as he could gang.20

O he's shot up, and he's shot down,
The bird upon the brier;
And he sent it hame to his ladye,
Bade her be of gude cheir.

O he's shot up, and he's shot down,25
The bird upon the thorn;
And sent it hame to his ladye,
Said he'd be hame the morn.

When he cam to his lady's bour door
He stude a little forbye,30
And there he heard a fou fause knight
Tempting his gay ladye.

For he's ta'en out a gay goud ring,
Had cost him many a poun',
"O grant me love for love, ladye,35
And this sall be thy own."

—

"I lo'e Brown Adam weel," she said;
"I trew sae does he me;
I wadna gie Brown Adam's love
For nae fause knight I see."—40

Out has he ta'en a purse o' gowd,
Was a' fou to the string,
"O grant me love for love, ladye,
And a' this sall be thine."—

"I lo'e Brown Adam weel," she says;45
"I wot sae does he me:
I wadna be your light leman,
For mair than ye could gie."—

Then out he drew his lang bright brand,
And flash'd it in her een;50
"Now grant me love for love, ladye,
Or thro' ye this sall gang!"—
Then, sighing, says that ladye fair,
"Brown Adam tarries lang!"—

Then in and starts him Brown Adam,55
Says—"I'm just at your hand."—
He's gar'd him leave his bonny bow,
He's gar'd him leave his brand,
He's gar'd him leave a dearer pledge—
Four fingers o' his right hand.60

LIZIE LINDSAY.

Complete copies of this pretty ballad are given in Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, ii. 102, and in Whitelaw's Book of Scottish Ballads, p. 51. [The latter we have printed with the present version], which, though lacking a stanza or two, is better in some respects than either of the others.—Robert Allan has made a song out of this ballad, Smith's Scottish Minstrel, ii. 100.

"Transmitted to the Editor by Professor Scott of Aberdeen, as it was taken down from the recitation of an old woman. It is very popular in the north-east of Scotland, and was familiar to the editor in his early youth; and from the imperfect recollection which he still retains of it, he has corrected the text in two or three unimportant passages." Jamieson's Popular Ballads, ii. 149.

"Will ye go to the Highlands, Lizie Lindsay,
Will ye go to the Highlands wi' me?
Will ye go to the Highlands, Lizie Lindsay,
And dine on fresh cruds and green whey?"

Then out spak Lizie's mother,5
A good old lady was she,
"Gin ye say sic a word to my daughter,
I'll gar ye be hanged high."

"Keep weel your daughter frae me, madam;
Keep weel your daughter frae me;10
I care as little for your daughter,
As ye can care for me."

Then out spak Lizie's ain maiden,
A bonny young lassie was she;
Says,—"were I the heir to a kingdom,15
Awa' wi' young Donald I'd be."

"O say you sae to me, Nelly?
And does my Nelly say sae?
Maun I leave my father and mother,
Awa' wi' young Donald to gae?"20

And Lizie's ta'en till her her stockings,
And Lizie's ta'en till her her shoen;
And kilted up her green claithing,
And awa' wi' young Donald she's gane.

The road it was lang and weary;25
The braes they were ill to climb;
Bonny Lizie was weary wi' travelling,
And a fit furder coudna win.

And sair, O sair did she sigh,
And the saut tear blin'd her e'e;30
"Gin this be the pleasures o' looing,
They never will do wi' me!"

"Now, haud your tongue, bonny Lizie;
Ye never shall rue for me;
Gi'e me but your love for my love,35
It is a' that your tocher will be.

"And haud your tongue, bonny Lizie;
Altho' that the gait seem lang,
And you's ha'e the wale o' good living
Whan to Kincawsen we gang.40

"There my father he is an auld cobler,
My mother she is an auld dey;
And we'll sleep on a bed o' green rashes,
And dine on fresh cruds and green whey."

"You're welcome hame, Sir Donald,45
You're welcome hame to me."

"O ca' me nae mair Sir Donald;
There's a bonny young lady to come;
Sae ca' me nae mair Sir Donald,

But ae spring Donald your son."50

"Ye're welcome hame, young Donald;
Ye're welcome hame to me;
Ye're welcome hame, young Donald,
And your bonny young lady wi' ye."

She's made them a bed of green rashes,55
Weel cover'd wi' hooding o' grey;
Bonny Lizie was weary wi' travelling,
And lay till 'twas lang o' the day.

"The sun looks in o'er the hill-head,
And the laverock is liltin' gay;60
Get up, get up, bonny Lizie,
You've lain till its lang o' the day.

"You might ha'e been out at the shealin,
Instead o' sae lang to lye,
And up and helping my mother65
To milk baith her gaits and kye."

Then out spak Lizie Lindsay,
The tear blindit her eye;
"The ladies o' Edinburgh city
They neither milk gaits nor kye."70

Then up spak young Sir Donald,
* * * * * *
* * * * * *
* * * * * *

"For I am the laird o' Kincawsyn,
And you are the lady free;
And * * * * *
* * * * * *

LIZZIE LINDSAY.

"This version of Lizzie Lindsay is given from the recitation of a lady in Glasgow, and is a faithful transcript of the ballad as it used to be sung in the West of Scotland." Whitelaw's Book of Scottish Ballads, p. 51.—A very good copy, from Mr. Kinloch's MS., is printed in Aytoun's Ballads of Scotland, i. 269, (Donald of the Isles.)

There was a braw ball in Edinburgh
And mony braw ladies were there,
But nae ane at a' the assembly
Could wi' Lizzie Lindsay compare.

In cam' the young laird o' Kincassie,5
An' a bonnie young laddie was he—
"Will ye lea' yere ain kintra, Lizzie,
An' gang to the Hielands wi' me?"

She turned her roun' on her heel,
An' a very loud laughter gaed she—10
"I wad like to ken whar I was ganging,
And wha I was gaun to gang wi'."

"My name is young Donald M'Donald,
My name I will never deny;
My father he is an auld shepherd,15
Sae weel as he can herd the kye!

"My father he is an auld shepherd,
My mother she is an auld dame;
If ye'll gang to the Hielands, bonnie Lizzie,
Ye's neither want curds nor cream."20

"If ye'll call at the Canongate port,
At the Canongate port call on me,
I'll give you a bottle o' sherry,
And bear you companie."

He ca'd at the Canongate port,25
At the Canongate port called he;
She drank wi' him a bottle o' sherry,
And bore him guid companie.

"Will ye go to the Hielands, bonnie Lizzie,
Will ye go to the Hielands wi' me?30
If ye'll go to the Hielands, bonnie Lizzie,
Ye shall not want curds nor green whey."

In there cam' her auld mither,
A jolly auld lady was she—
"I wad like to ken whar she was ganging,35
And wha she was gaun to gang wi'."

"My name is young Donald M'Donald,
My name I will never deny,
My father he is an auld shepherd,
Sae weel as he can herd the kye!40

"O but I would give you ten guineas,
To have her one hour in a room,
To get her fair body a picture
To keep me from thinking long."

"O I value not your ten guineas,45
As little as you value mine;
But if that you covet my daughter,
Take her with you, if you do incline."

"Pack up my silks and my satins,
And pack up my hose and my shoon,50
And likewise my clothes in small bundles,
And away wi' young Donald I'll gang."

They pack'd up her silks and her satins,
They pack'd up her hose and her shoon,
And likewise her clothes in small bundles,55
And away with young Donald she's gane.

When that they cam' to the Hielands,
The braes they were baith lang and stey;
Bonnie Lizzie was wearied wi' ganging—

She had travell'd a lang summer day.60

"O are we near hame, Sir Donald,
O are we near hame, I pray?"
"We're no near hame, bonnie Lizzie,
Nor yet the half o' the way."

They cam' to a homely poor cottage,65
An auld man was standing by;
"Ye're welcome hame, Sir Donald,
Ye've been sae lang away."

"O call me no more Sir Donald,
But call me young Donald your son;70
For I have a bonnie young lady
Behind me for to come in."

"Come in, come in, bonnie Lizzie,
Come in, come in," said he,
"Although that our cottage be little,75
Perhaps the better we'll 'gree.

"O make us a supper, dear mother,
And make it of curds an' green whey;
And make us a bed o' green rushes,
And cover it o'er wi' green hay."80

"Rise up, rise up, bonnie Lizzie,
Why lie ye so long in the day;
Ye might ha'e been helping my mother
To make the curds and green whey."

"O haud your tongue, Sir Donald,85
O haud your tongue I pray;
I wish I had ne'er left my mother,
I can neither make curds nor whey."

"Rise up, rise up, bonnie Lizzie,
And put on your satins so fine;90
For we maun to be at Kincassie
Before that the clock strikes nine."

But when they came to Kincassie
The porter was standing by;—
"Ye're welcome home, Sir Donald,95
Ye've been so long away."

It's down then came his auld mither,
With all the keys in her hand,
Saying, "Take you these, bonnie Lizzie,
All under them's at your command."

LIZAE BAILLIE.

From Herd's Scottish Songs, ii. 50. A longer version, from Buchan's larger collection, is [in the Appendix]. Mr. Chambers, assuming that the foregoing ballad of Lizie Lindsay was originally the same as Lizie Baillie, has made out of various copies of both one story in two parts: The Scottish Ballads, p. 158. Smith has somewhat altered the language of this ballad: Scottish Minstrel, iv. 90.

Lizae Baillie's to Gartartan gane,
To see her sister Jean;
And there she's met wi' Duncan Græme,
And he's convoy'd her hame.

"My bonny Lizae Baillie,5
I'll row ye in my plaidie,
And ye maun gang alang wi' me,
And be a Highland lady."

"I'm sure they wadna ca' me wise,
Gin I wad gang wi' you, Sir;10
For I can neither card nor spin,
Nor yet milk ewe or cow, Sir."

"My bonny Lizae Baillie,
Let nane o' these things daunt ye;
Ye'll hae nae need to card or spin,15
Your mither weel can want ye."

Now she's cast aff her bonny shoen,
Made o' the gilded leather,
And she's put on her highland brogues,
To skip amang the heather:20

And she's cast aff her bonny gown,
Made o' the silk and sattin,
And she's put on a tartan plaid,
To row amang the braken.

She wadna hae a Lawland laird,25
Nor be an English lady;
But she wad gang wi' Duncan Græme,
And row her in his plaidie.

She was nae ten miles frae the town,
When she began to weary;30
She aften looked back, and said,
"Farewell to Castlecarry.

"The first place I saw my Duncan Græme,
Was near yon holland bush;
My father took frae me my rings,35
My rings but and my purse.

"But I wadna gie my Duncan Græme
For a' my father's land,
Though it were ten times ten times mair,
And a' at my command."40

* * * * * * * * *

Now wae be to you, loggerheads,
That dwell near Castlecarry,
To let awa' sic a bonny lass,
A Highlandman to marry.45

GLASGOW PEGGY.

From recitation, in Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 174. Other copies are printed in Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, ii. 155, (Donald of the Isles,) Sharpe's Ballad Book, p. 40, (and Chambers's Popular Rhymes, p. 27,) Smith's Scottish Minstrel, iv. 78.

The Lawland lads think they are fine,
But the hieland lads are brisk and gaucy;
And they are awa near Glasgow toun,
To steal awa a bonnie lassie.

"I wad gie my gude brown steed,5
And sae wad I my gude grey naigie,
That I war fifty miles frae the toun,
And nane wi' me but my bonnie Peggy."

But up then spak the auld gudman,
And vow but he spak wondrous saucie;—10
"Ye may steal awa our cows and ewes,
But ye sanna get our bonnie lassie."

"I have got cows and ewes anew,
I've got gowd and gear already;
Sae I dinna want your cows nor ewes,15
But I will hae your bonnie Peggy."

"I'll follow you oure moss and muir,
I'll follow you oure mountains many,
I'll follow you through frost and snaw,
I'll stay na langer wi' my daddie."20

He set her on a gude brown steed,
Himself upon a gude grey naigie;
They're oure hills, and oure dales,
And he's awa wi' his bonnie Peggy.

As they rade out by Glasgow toun,25
And doun by the hills o' Achildounie,
There they met the Earl of Hume,
And his auld son, riding bonnie.

Out bespak the Earl of Hume,
And O but he spak wondrous sorry,—30
"The bonniest lass about a' Glasgow toun,
This day is awa wi' a hieland laddie."

As they rade bye auld Drymen toun,
The lassies leuch and lookit saucy,
That the bonniest lass they ever saw,35
Sud be riding awa wi' a hieland laddie.

They rode on through moss and muir,
And so did they owre mountains many,
Until they cam to yonder glen,
And she's lain doun wi' her hieland laddie.40

Gude green hay was Peggy's bed,
And brakens war her blankets bonnie;
Wi' his tartan plaid aneath her head,
And she's lain doun wi' her hieland laddie.

"There's beds and bowsters in my father's house,45
There's sheets and blankets, and a' thing ready,
And wadna they be angry wi' me,
To see me lie sae wi' a hieland laddie."

"Tho' there's beds and beddin in your father's house,
Sheets and blankets and a' made ready,50
Yet why sud they be angry wi' thee,
Though I be but a hieland laddie?

"It's I hae fifty acres of land,
It's a' plow'd and sawn already;
I am Donald the Lord of Skye,55
And why sud na Peggy be call'd a lady?

"I hae fifty gude milk kye,
A' tied to the staws already;
I am Donald the Lord of Skye,

And why sud na Peggy be call'd a lady!60

"See ye no a' yon castles and tow'rs?
The sun sheens owre them a sae bonnie;
I am Donald the Lord of Skye,
I think I'll mak ye as blythe as onie.

"A' that Peggy left behind65
Was a cot-house and a wee kail-yardie;
Now I think she is better by far,
Than tho' she had got a lawland lairdie."

GLENLOGIE.

First published in the fourth volume of Smith's Scottish Minstrel. Great liberties, says Motherwell, have been taken with the songs in that work. Other versions are given in Sharpe's Ballad Book, and in Buchan's larger collection, i. 188, (Jean o' Bethelnie's Love for Sir G. Gordon.)

Three score o' nobles rade up the king's ha',
But bonnie Glenlogie's the flower o' them a';
Wi' his milk-white steed and his bonnie black e'e,
"Glenlogie, dear mither, Glenlogie for me!"

"O haud your tongue, dochter, ye'll get better than he;"5
"O say nae sae, mither, for that canna be;
Though Drumlie is richer, and greater than he,
Yet if I maun tak him, I'll certainly dee.

"Where will I get a bonnie boy, to win hose and shoon,
Will gae to Glenlogie, and [cum again] shun?"10
"O here am I, a bonnie boy, to win hose and shoon,
Will gae to Glenlogie, and [cum again] shun."

When he gaed to Glenlogie, 'twas "wash and go dine;"
'Twas "wash ye, my pretty boy, wash and go dine;"
"O 'twas ne'er my father's fashion, and it ne'er shall be mine,15
To gar a lady's hasty errand wait till I dine.

"But there is, Glenlogie, a letter for thee;"
The first line that he read, a low smile ga'e he,
The next line that he read, the tear blindit his e'e;
But the last line that he read, he gart the table flee.20

"Gar saddle the black horse, gar saddle the brown;
Gar saddle the swiftest steed e'er rade frae a town;"
But lang ere the horse was drawn and brought to the green,
O bonnie Glenlogie was twa mile his lane.

"When he cam' to Glenfeldy's door, little mirth was there;25
Bonnie Jean's mother was tearing her hair;
"Ye're welcome, Glenlogie, ye're welcome," said she,
"Ye're welcome, Glenlogie, your Jeanie to see."

Pale and wan was she, when Glenlogie gaed ben,
But red and rosy grew she whene'er he sat down;30
She turned awa' her head, but the smile was in her e'e,
"O binna feared, mither, I'll maybe no dee."

[10], [12] shun again.

JOHN O' HAZELGREEN.

Neither the present version of this ballad, (taken from Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, ii. 253,) nor that furnished by Kinloch, (Jock o' Hazelgreen, p. 206,) is at all satisfactory. Another, much superior in point of taste, but made up from four different copies, is given in Chambers's Scottish Ballads, p. 319.

Sir W. Scott's song of Jock o' Hazeldean was suggested by a single stanza of this ballad, which he had heard as a fragment, thus:

"'Why weep ye by the tide ladye,
Why weep ye by the tide?
I'll wed ye to my youngest son,
And ye shall be his bride;
And ye shall be his bride, ladye,
Sae comely to be seen:'
But aye she loot the tears down fa'
For Jock o' Hazeldean."

As I went forth to take the air
Intill an evening clear,
And there I spied a lady fair
Making a heavy bier.
Making a heavy bier, I say,5
But and a piteous meen;
And aye she sigh'd, and said, alas!
For John o' Hazelgreen.

The sun was sinking in the west,
The stars were shining clear;10
When thro' the thickets o' the wood,
A gentleman did appear.
Says, "who has done you the wrong, fair maid,
And left you here alane;
Or who has kiss'd your lovely lips,15
That ye ca' Hazelgreen?"

"Hold your tongue, kind sir," she said,
"And do not banter so;
How will ye add affliction
Unto a lover's woe?20
For none's done me the wrong," she said,
"Nor left me here alane;
Nor none has kiss'd my lovely lips,
That I ca' Hazelgreen."

"Why weep ye by the tide, lady?25
Why weep ye by the tide?
How blythe and happy might he be
Gets you to be his bride!
Gets you to be his bride, fair maid,
And him I'll no bemean;30
But when I take my words again,
Whom call ye Hazelgreen?

"What like a man was Hazelgreen?
Will ye show him to me?"
"He is a comely proper youth,35
I in my sleep did see;

Wi' arms tall, and fingers small,—
He's comely to be seen;"
And aye she loot the tears down fall
For John o' Hazelgreen.40

"If ye'll forsake young Hazelgreen,
And go along with me,
I'll wed you to my eldest son,
Make you a lady free."
"It's for to wed your eldest son45
I am a maid o'er mean;
I'll rather stay at home," she says,
"And die for Hazelgreen."

"If ye'll forsake young Hazelgreen,
And go along with me,50
I'll wed you to my second son,
And your weight o' gowd I'll gie."
"It's for to wed your second son
I am a maid o'er mean;
I'll rather stay at home," she says,55
"And die for Hazelgreen."

Then he's taen out a siller comb,
Comb'd down her yellow hair;
And looked in a diamond bright,
To see if she were fair.60
"My girl, ye do all maids surpass
That ever I have seen;
Cheer up your heart, my lovely lass,
And hate young Hazelgreen."

"Young Hazelgreen he is my love,65
And ever mair shall be;
I'll nae forsake young Hazelgreen
For a' the gowd ye'll gie."
But aye she sigh'd, and said, alas!
And made a piteous meen;70
And aye she loot the tears down fa',
For John o' Hazelgreen.

He looked high, and lighted low,
Set her upon his horse;
And they rode on to Edinburgh,75
To Edinburgh's own cross.
And when she in that city was,
She look'd like ony queen;
"'Tis a pity such a lovely lass
Shou'd love young Hazelgreen."80

"Young Hazelgreen, he is my love,
And ever mair shall be;
I'll nae forsake young Hazelgreen
For a' the gowd ye'll gie."
And aye she sigh'd, and said, alas!85
And made a piteous meen;
And aye she loot the tears down fa',
For John o' Hazelgreen.

"Now hold your tongue, my well-far'd maid,
Lat a' your mourning be,90
And a' endeavours I shall try,

To bring that youth to thee;
If ye'll tell me where your love stays,
His stile and proper name."
"He's laird o' Taperbank," she says,95
"His stile, Young Hazelgreen."

Then he has coft for that lady
A fine silk riding gown;
Likewise he coft for that lady
A steed, and set her on;100
Wi' menji feathers in her hat,
Silk stockings and siller sheen;
And they are on to Taperbank,
Seeking young Hazelgreen.

They nimbly rode along the way,105
And gently spurr'd their horse,
Till they rode on to Hazelgreen,
To Hazelgreen's own close.
Then forth he came, young Hazelgreen,
To welcome his father free;110
"You're welcome here, my father dear,
And a' your companie."

But when he look'd o'er his shoulder,
A light laugh then gae he;
Says, "If I getna this lady,115
It's for her I must die;
I must confess this is the maid
I ance saw in a dream,

A walking thro' a pleasant shade,
As fair's a cypress queen."120

"Now hold your tongue, young Hazelgreen,
Lat a' your folly be;
If ye be wae for that lady,
She's thrice as wae for thee.
She's thrice as wae for thee, my son;125
As bitter doth complain;
Well is she worthy o' the rigs
That lie on Hazelgreen."

He's taen her in his arms twa,
Led her thro' bower and ha';130
"Cheer up your heart, my dearest dear,
Ye're flower out o'er them a'.
This night shall be our wedding e'en,
The morn we'll say, Amen;
Ye'se never mair hae cause to mourn,—135
Ye're lady o' Hazelgreen."

THE FAUSE LOVER.

From Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, i. 268. The fourth and fifth stanzas are found as a fragment in Herd's Scottish Songs, ii. 6, (ed. 1776,) thus:

"False luve, and hae ze played me this,
In the simmer, mid the flowers?
I sall repay ze back again,
In the winter mid the showers.

"Bot again, dear luve, and again, dear luve,
Will ze not turn again?
As ze look to ither women
Shall I to ither men."

Sir Walter Scott, also, as Chambers has pointed out, has, in Waverley, put two similar stanzas into the mouth of Davie Gellatley.

"False love, and hast thou played me this,
In summer, among the flowers?
I will repay thee back again,
In winter, amid the showers.

"Unless again, again, my love,
Unless ye turn again,
As you with other maidens rove,
I'll smile on other men."

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

"Where gang ye, young John," she says,5
"Sae early in the day?
It gars me think, by your fast trip,
Your journey's far away."

He turn'd about wi' surly look,
And said, "What's that to thee?10
I'm gaen to see a lovely maid,
Mair fairer far than ye."

"Now hae ye play'd me this, fause love,
In simmer, 'mid the flowers?
I sall repay ye back again,15
In winter, 'mid the showers.

"But again, dear love, and again, dear love,
Will ye not turn again?
For as ye look to ither women,
Shall I to ither men."20

"Make your choose o' whom you please,
For I my choice will have;
I've chosen a maid mair fair than thee,
I never will deceive."

But she's kilt up her claithing fine,25
And after him gaed she;
But aye he said, "ye'll turn back,
Nae farder gang wi' me."

"But again, dear love, and again, dear love,
Will ye never love me again?30
Alas! for loving you sae well,
And you nae me again."

The first an' town that they came till,
He bought her brooch and ring;
But aye he bade her turn again,35
And gang nae farder wi' him.

"But again, dear love, and again, dear love,
Will ye never love me again?
Alas! for loving you sae well,
And you nae me again."40

The niest an' town that they came till,
His heart it grew mair fain;
And he was deep in love wi' her,
As she was ower again.

The niest an' town that they came till,45
He bought her wedding gown;
And made her lady o' ha's and bowers,
In bonny Berwick town.

THE GARDENER.

From Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 74. The last stanza but one is found in the preceding ballad. Another copy is given by Buchan, Ballads of the North of Scotland, ii. 187.

The gard'ner stands in his bouer door,
Wi' a primrose in his hand,
And bye there cam a leal maiden,
As jimp as a willow wand;
And bye there cam a leal maiden,
As jimp as a willow wand.

"O ladie can ye fancy me,5
For to be my bride;
Ye'se get a' the flowers in my garden,
To be to you a weed.

"The lily white sall be your smock;
It becomes your body best;10
Your head sall be buskt wi' gelly-flower,
Wi' the primrose in your breist.

"Your goun sall be the Sweet William;
Your coat the camovine;
Your apron o' the sallads neat,15
That taste baith sweet and fine.

"Your hose sall be the brade kail-blade,
That is baith brade and lang;
Narrow, narrow, at the cute,
And brade, brade at the brawn.20

"Your gloves sall be the marigold,
All glittering to your hand,
Weel spread owre wi' the blue blaewort,
That grows amang corn-land."

"O fare ye weil, young man," she says,25
"Fareweil, and I bid adieu;
Sin ye've provided a weed for me
Amang the simmer flowers,
It's I'se provide anither for you,
Amang the winter-showers:30

"The new fawn snaw to be your smock;
It becomes your bodie best;
Your head sall be wrapt wi' the eastern wind,
And the cauld rain on your breist."

THE DUKE OF ATHOL.

"Taken down from the recitation of an idiot boy in Wishaw." Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 170.

"I am gaing awa, Jeanie,
I am gaing awa,
I am gaing ayont the saut seas,
I'm gaing sae far awa."

"What will ye buy to me, Jamie,5
What will ye buy to me?"
"I'll buy to you a silken plaid,
And send it wi' vanitie."

"That's na love at a', Jamie,
That's na love at a';10
All I want is love for love,
And that's the best ava.

"Whan will ye marry me, Jamie,
Whan will ye marry me?
Will ye tak me to your countrie,—15
Or will ye marry me?"

"How can I marry thee, Jeanie,
How can I marry thee?
Whan I've a wife and bairns three,—
Twa wad na weill agree."20

"Wae be to your fause tongue, Jamie,
Wae be to your fause tongue;
Ye promised for to marry me,
And has a wife at hame!

"But if your wife wad dee, Jamie,25
And sae your bairns three,
Wad ye tak me to your countrie,—
Or wad ye marry me?

"But sin they're all alive, Jamie,
But sin they're all alive,30
We'll tak a glass in ilka hand,
And drink, 'Weill may they thrive.'"

"If my wife wad dee, Jeanie,
And sae my bairns three,
I wad tak ye to my ain countrie,35
And married we wad be."

"O an your head war sair, Jamie,
O an your head war sair,
I'd tak the napkin frae my neck,

And tie doun your yellow hair."40

"I hae na wife at a', Jeanie,
I hae na wife at a',
I hae neither wife nor bairns three;
I said it to try thee."

"Licht are ye to loup, Jamie,45
Licht are ye to loup,
Licht are ye to loup the dyke,
Whan I maun wale a slap."

"Licht am I to loup, Jeanie,
Licht am I to loup;50
But the hiest dyke that we come to,
I'll turn and tak you up.

"Blair in Athol is mine, Jeanie,
Blair in Athol is mine;
Bonnie Dunkel is whare I dwell,55
And the boats o' Garry's mine.

"Huntingtower is mine, Jeanie,
Huntingtower is mine,
Huntingtower, and bonnie Belford,
And a' Balquhither's mine."60

THE RANTIN' LADDIE.

An imperfect copy of this ballad was printed in Johnson's Museum, (p. 474,) contributed, Mr. Stenhouse informs us, by Burns. The present copy is from the Thistle of Scotland, p. 7. Another, shorter than either, is given in Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, ii. 66, Lord Aboyne. (Also in Smith's Scottish Minstrel, iv. 6.)

"Aft hae I playd at cards and dice
For the love o' a bonny rantin' laddie,
But now I maun sit i' my father's kitchen nook,
And sing, 'Hush, balow, my baby.'

"If I had been wise, and had ta'en advice,5
And dane as my bonny love bade me,
I would hae been married at Martinmas,
And been wi' my rantin' laddie.

"But I was na wise, I took nae advice,
Did not as my bonny love bade me,10
And now I maun sit by mysel' i' the nook,
And rock my bastard baby.

"If I had horse at my command,
As often I had many,
I would ride on to the Castle o' Aboyne,15
Wi' a letter to my rantin' laddie."

Down the stair her father came,
And looked proud and saucy;
"Who is the man, and what is his name,
That ye ca' your rantin' laddie?20

"Is he a lord, or is he a laird,
Or is he but a caddie?
Or is it the young Earl o' Aboyne,
That ye ca' your rantin' laddie?"

"He is a young and noble lord,25
He never was a caddie;
It is the noble Earl o' Aboyne
That I ca' my rantin' laddie."

"Ye shall hae a horse at your command,
As ye had often many,30
To go to the Castle o' Aboyne,
Wi' a letter to your rantin' laddie."

"Where will I get a little page,
Where will I get a caddie,
That will run quick to bonny Aboyne,35
Wi' this letter to my rantin' laddie?"

Then out spoke the young scullion boy,
Said, "Here am I, a caddie;
I will run on to bonny Aboyne
Wi' the letter to your rantin' laddie."40

"Now when ye come to bonny Deeside,
Where woods are green and bonny,
Then will ye see the Earl o' Aboyne,
Among the bushes mony.

"And when ye come to the lands o' Aboyne,45
Where all around is bonny,
Ye'll take your hat into your hand,
Gie this letter to my rantin' laddie."

When he came near the banks of Dee,
The birks were blooming bonny,50
And there he saw the Earl o' Aboyne
Among the bushes mony.

"Where are ye going, my bonny boy,
Where are ye going, my caddie?"
"I am going to the Castle o' Aboyne55
Wi' a letter to the rantin' laddie."

"See yonder is the castle there,
My young and handsome caddie,
And I myself am the Earl o' Aboyne,

Tho they ca' me the rantin' laddie."60

"O pardon, my lord, if I've done wrong;
Forgive a simple caddie;
O pardon, pardon, Earl o' Aboyne,
I said but what she bade me."

"Ye've done no wrong, my bonny boy,65
Ye've done no wrong, my caddie;"
Wi' hat in hand he bowed low,
Gave the letter to the rantin' laddie.

When young Aboyne looked the letter on,
O but he blinkit bonny;70
But ere he read four lines on end,
The tears came trickling mony.

"My father will no pity shew,
My mother still does slight me,
And a' my friends have turned from me,75
And servants disrespect me."

"Who are they dare be so bold
To cruelly use my lassie?
But I'll take her to bonny Aboyne,
Where oft she did caress me.80

"Go raise to me five hundred men,
Be quick and make them ready;
Each on a steed, to haste their speed,
To carry home my lady."

As they rode on thro' Buchanshire,85
The company were many,
Wi' a good claymore in every hand,
That glanced wondrous bonny.

When he came to her father's gate
He called for his lady;90
"Come down, come down, my bonny maid,
And speak wi' your rantin' laddie."

When she was set on high horseback,
Row'd in the highland plaidie,
The bird i' the bush sung not so sweet,95
As sung this bonny lady.

As they rode on thro' Buchanshire,
He cried, "Each lowland lassie,
Lay your love on some lowland lown,
And soon will he prove fause t' ye.100

"But take my advice, and make your choice
Of some young highland laddie,
Wi' bonnet and plaid, whose heart is staid,
And he will not beguile ye."

As they rode on thro' Garioch land,105
He rode up in a fury,
And cried, "Fall back each saucy dame,
Let the Countess of Aboyne before ye."

THE DUKE OF GORDON'S DAUGHTER.

Ritson's Scottish Songs, ii. 169.

"Alexander, third Earl of Huntly, was succeeded, in 1523, by his grandson Alexander, Lord Gordon, who actually had three daughters. I. Lady Elizabeth, the eldest, married to John, Earl of Athol. II. Lady Margaret, married to John, Lord Forbes. III. Lady Jean, the youngest, married first, to James, Earl of Bothwell, from whom she was divorced in 1568; she married, secondly, Alexander, Earl of Southerland, who died in 1594; and surviving him, she married, thirdly, Captain Alexander Ogilvie, son and successor of Sir Walter Ogilvie of Boym, who died in 1606 without issue." Stenhouse, Musical Museum, iv. 378.

The dukedom of Gordon was not created until 1684, and therefore the first line should probably run as quoted by Burns,—

"The Lord of Gordon had three daughters."

The duke of Gordon has three daughters,
Elizabeth, Margaret, and Jean;
They would not stay in bonny Castle-Gordon,
But they would go to bonny Aberdeen.

They had not been in Aberdeen5
A twelvemonth and a day,
Till Lady Jean fell in love with Captain Ogilvie,
And away with him she would gae.

Word came to the duke of Gordon,
In the chamber where he lay,10
Lady Jean has fell in love with Captain Ogilvie,
And away with him she would gae.

"Go saddle me the black horse,
And you'll ride on the grey;
And I will ride to bonny Aberdeen,15
Where I have been many a day."

They were not a mile from Aberdeen,
A mile but only three,
Till he met with his two daughters walking,
But away was Lady Jean.20

"Where is your sister, maidens?
Where is your sister, now?
Where is your sister, maidens,
That she is not walking with you?"

"O pardon us, honoured father,25
O pardon us," they did say;
"Lady Jean is with Captain Ogilvie,
And away with him she will gae."

When he came to Aberdeen,
And down upon the green,30
There did he see Captain Ogilvie,
Training up his men.

"O wo to you, Captain Ogilvie,
And an ill death thou shalt die;
For taking to my daughter,35
Hanged thou shalt be."

Duke Gordon has wrote a broad letter,
And sent it to the king,
To cause hang Captain Ogilvie,
If ever he hanged a man.40

"I will not hang Captain Ogilvie,
For no lord that I see;
But I'll cause him to put off the lace and scarlet,
And put on the single livery."

Word came to Captain Ogilvie,45
In the chamber where he lay,
To cast off the gold lace and scarlet,
And put on the single livery.

"If this be for bonny Jeany Gordon,
This pennance I'll take wi';50
If this be bonny Jeany Gordon,
All this I will dree."

Lady Jean had not been married,
Not a year but three,
Till she had a babe in every arm,55
Another upon her knee.

"O but I'm weary of wandering!
O but my fortune is bad!
It sets not the duke of Gordon's daughter
To follow a soldier lad.60

"O but I'm weary of wandering!
O but I think lang!
It sets not the duke of Gordon's daughter,
To follow a single man."

When they came to the Highland hills,65
Cold was the frost and snow;
Lady Jean's shoes they were all torn,
No farther could she go.

"O wo to the hills and the mountains!
Wo to the wind and the rain!70
My feet is sore with going barefoot,
No further am I able to gang.

"Wo to the hills and the mountains!
Wo to the frost and the snow!
My feet is sore with going barefoot,75
No farther am I able for to go.

"O! if I were at the glens of Foudlen,
Where hunting I have been,
I would find the way to bonny Castle-Gordon,
Without either stockings or shoon."80

When she came to Castle-Gordon,
And down upon the green,
The porter gave out a loud shout,
"O yonder comes Lady Jean."

"O you are welcome, bonny Jeany Gordon,85
You are dear welcome to me;
You are welcome, dear Jeany Gordon,
But away with your Captain Ogilvie."

Now over seas went the captain,
As a soldier under command;90
A message soon followed after,
To come and heir his brother's land.

"Come home, you pretty Captain Ogilvie,
And heir your brother's land;
Come home, ye pretty Captain Ogilvie,95
Be earl of Northumberland."

"O what does this mean?" says the captain;
"Where's my brother's children three?"
"They are dead and buried,

And the lands they are ready for thee."100

"Then hoist up your sails, brave captain,
Let's be jovial and free;
I'll to Northumberland, and heir my estate,
Then my dear Jeany I'll see."

He soon came to Castle-Gordon,105
And down upon the green;
The porter gave out with a loud shout,
"Here comes Captain Ogilvie."

"You're welcome, pretty Captain Ogilvie,
Your fortune's advanced I hear;110
No stranger can come unto my gates,
That I do love so dear."

"Sir, the last time I was at your gates,
You would not let me in;
I'm come for my wife and children,115
No friendship else I claim."

"Come in, pretty Captain Ogilvie,
And drink of the beer and the wine;
And thou shalt have gold and silver,
To count till the clock strike nine."120

"I'll have none of your gold and silver,
Nor none of your white money;
But I'll have bonny Jeany Gordon;
And she shall go now with me."

Then she came tripping down the stair,125
With the tear into her eye;
One babe was at her foot,
Another upon her knee.

"You're welcome, bonny Jeany Gordon,
With my young family;130
Mount and go to Northumberland,
There a countess thou shalt be."

THE LAIRD O'LOGIE.

Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, iii. 131.

An edition of this ballad was published in Herd's Scottish Songs, (i. 54,) and there is styled The Young Laird of Ochiltrie. Scott recovered the following copy from recitation, which is to be preferred to the other, as agreeing more closely with the real fact, both in the name and the circumstances.

The incident here celebrated occurred in the year 1592. Francis, Earl Bothwell, being then engaged in a wild conspiracy against James VI., succeeded in obtaining some followers even among the king's personal attendants. Among these was a gentleman named Weymis of Logie. Accused of treasonable converse with Bothwell, he confessed to the charge, and was, of course, in danger of expiating his crime by death. But he was rescued through the address and courage of Margaret Twynstoun, a lady of the court, to whom he was attached. It being her duty to wait on the queen the night of Logie's accusation, she left the royal chamber while the king and queen were asleep, passed to the room where he was kept in custody, and ordered the guard to bring the prisoner into the presence of their majesties. She received her lover at the cham

ber door, commanding the guard to wait there, and conveyed him to a window, from which he escaped by a long cord. This is the story as related in The Historie of King James the Sext, quoted by Scott.

I will sing, if ye will hearken,
If ye will hearken unto me;
The king has ta'en a poor prisoner,
The wanton laird o' young Logie.

Young Logie's laid in Edinburgh chapel,5
Carmichael's the keeper o' the key;
And May Margaret's lamenting sair,
A' for the love of young Logie.

[May Margaret sits in the queen's bouir,]
[Knicking her fingers ane by ane,]10
[Cursing the day that she e'er was born,]
[Or that she e'er heard o' Logie's name.]

"Lament, lament na, May Margaret,
And of your weeping let me be;
For ye maun to the king himsell,15
To seek the life o' young Logie."

May Margaret has kilted her green cleiding,
And she has curl'd back her yellow hair,

—
"If I canna get young Logie's life,
Farewell to Scotland for evermair."20

When she came before the king,
She knelit lowly on her knee.
"O what's the matter, May Margaret?
And what need's a' this courtesie?"

"A boon, a boon, my noble liege,25
A boon, a boon, I beg o' thee!
And the first boon that I come to crave
Is to grant me the life o' young Logie."

"O na, O na, May Margaret,
Forsooth, and so it mauna be;30
For a' the gowd o' fair Scotland
Shall not save the life o' young Logie."

But she has stown the king's redding kaim,
Likewise the queen her wedding knife;
And sent the tokens to Carmichael,35
To cause young Logie get his life.

She sent him a purse o' the red gowd,
Another o' the white monie;
She sent him a pistol for each hand,
And bade him shoot when he gat free.40

When he came to the Tolbooth stair,
There he let his volley flee;

It made the king in his chamber start,
E'en in the bed where he might be.

"Gae out, gae out, my merrymen a',45
And bid Carmichael come speak to me;
For I'll lay my life the pledge o' that,
That yon's the shot o' young Logie."

When Carmichael came before the king,
He fell low down upon his knee;50
The very first word that the king spake
Was,—"Where's the laird of young Logie?"

Carmichael turn'd him round about,
(I wot the tear blinded his e'e,)—
"There came a token frae your grace55
Has ta'en away the laird frae me."

"Hast thou play'd me that, Carmichael?
And hast thou play'd me that?" quoth he;
"The morn the Justice Court's to stand,
And Logie's place ye maun supplie."60

Carmichael's awa to Margaret's bower,
Even as fast as he may drie,—
"O if young Logie be within,
Tell him to come and speak with me!"

May Margaret turn'd her round about,65
(I wot a loud laugh laughed she,)

—
"The egg is chipp'd, the bird is flown,
Ye'll see nae mair of young Logie."

The tane is shipped at the pier of Leith,
The tother at the Queen's Ferrie;70
And she's gotten a father to her bairn,
The wanton laird of young Logie.

v. [9-12]. This stanza was obtained by Motherwell from recitation.

THE GYPSIE LADDIE.

This ballad first appeared in print in the Tea-Table Miscellany, (ii. 282,) from which it was adopted into Herd's and Pinkerton's collections, Johnson's Museum, and Ritson's Scottish Songs. The version here selected, that of Finlay, (Scottish Ballads, ii. 39,) is nearly the same, but has two more stanzas, the third and the fourth. Different copies are given in Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 360, Smith's Scottish Minstrel, iii. 90, The Songs of England and Scotland, (by Peter Cunningham,) ii. 346, and Sheldon's Minstrelsy of the English Border, p. 329, ([see our Appendix];) others, which we have not seen, in Mactaggart's Gallovidian Dictionary, Chambers's Scottish Gypsies, and The Scot's Magazine for November, 1817.

There is a popular tradition, possessing, we believe, no foundation in fact, that the incidents of this ballad belong to the history of the noble family of Cassilis. The Lady Jean Hamilton, daughter of the Earl of Waddington, is said to have been constrained to marry a grim Covenanter, John, Earl of Cassilis, though her affections were already engaged to Sir John Faa of

Dunbar. In 1643, several years after their union, when the Countess had given birth to two or three children, her husband being absent from home on a mission to the Assembly of Divines at Westminster, Sir John presented himself at Cassilis Castle, attended by a small band of gypsies, and himself disguised as one. The recollection of her early passion proved stronger than the marriage vow, and the lady eloped with her former lover. But before she had got far from home, the Earl happened to return. Learning what had occurred, he set out in pursuit with a considerable body of followers, and, arresting the fugitives, brought them back to his castle, where he hanged Sir John and his companions on a great tree before the gate. The Countess was obliged to witness the execution from a chamber window, and after a short confinement in the castle, was shut up for the rest of her life in a house at Maybole, four miles distant, which had been fitted up for her, with a staircase on which were carved a set of heads representing her lover and his troop.

Unfortunately for the truth of the story, letters are in existence, written by the Earl of Cassilis to the Lady Jean after the date of these events, which prove the subsistence of a high degree of mutual affection and confidence; and Finlay assures us that after a diligent search, he had been able to discern nothing that in the slightest confirmed the popular tale. The whole story is perhaps the malicious invention of an enemy of the house of Cassilis, and as such would not be unparalleled in the history of ballad poetry. See Dauney's Ancient Scottish Melodies, p. 269, and Chambers's Scottish Ballads, p. 143.

The gypsies came to our good lord's gate,
And wow but they sang sweetly;
They sang sae sweet and sae very complete,
That down came the fair lady.

And she came tripping doun the stair,5
And a' her maids before her;
As soon as they saw her weel-far'd face,
They coost the glamer o'er her.

"O come with me," says Johnie Faw,
"O come with me, my dearie;10
For I vow and I swear by the hilt of my sword,
That your lord shall nae mair come near ye."

Then she gied them the beer and the wine,
And they gied her the ginger;
But she gied them a far better thing,15
The goud ring aff her finger.

"Gae tak frae me this gay mantle,
And bring to me a plaidie;
For if kith and kin and a' had sworn,
I'll follow the gypsie laddie.20

"Yestreen I lay in a weel-made bed,
Wi' my good lord beside me;
But this night I'll lye in a tennant's barn,
Whatever shall betide me."

"Come to your bed," says Johnie Faw,25
"O come to your bed, my dearie;
For I vow and swear by the hilt of my sword,
That your lord shall nae mair come near ye."

"I'll go to bed to my Johnie Faw,
I'll go to bed to my dearie;30
For I vow and I swear by the fan in my hand,
That my lord shall nae mair come near me.

"I'll mak a hap to my Johnie Faw,
I'll mak a hap to my dearie;
And he's get a' the coat gaes round,35
And my lord shall nae mair come near me."

And when our lord came hame at e'en,
And spier'd for his fair lady,
The tane she cry'd, and the other replied,
"She's away wi' the gypsie laddie."40

"Gae saddle to me the black black steed,
Gae saddle and make him ready;
Before that I either eat or sleep,
I'll gae seek my fair lady."

And we were fifteen weel-made men,45
Altho' we were na bonny;
And we were a' put down but ane,
For a fair young wanton lady.

LAIRD OF DRUM.

From Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 200, obtained from recitation. Another copy is furnished by Buchan, Ballads of the North of Scotland, ii. 194, which, with some variations, is printed again in Scottish Traditional Versions of Ancient Ballads, Percy Society, vol. xvii. p. 53.

"This ballad," says Kinloch, was composed on the marriage of Alexander Irvine of Drum to his second wife, Margaret Coutts, a woman of inferior birth and manners, which step gave great offence to his relations. He had previously, in 1643, married Mary, fourth daughter of George, second Marquis of Huntly.

The Laird o' Drum is a wooing gane,
It was on a morning early,
And he has fawn in wi' a bonnie may
A-shearing at her barley.

"My bonnie may, my weel-faur'd may,5
O will ye fancy me, O;
And gae and be the lady o' Drum,
And lat your shearing abee, O?"

"It's I canna fancy thee, kind sir,
I winna fancy thee, O,10
I winna gae and be Lady o' Drum,
And lat my shearing abee, O.

"But set your love on anither, kind sir,
Set it not on me, O,
For I am not fit to be your bride,15
And your hure I'll never be, O.

"My father he is a shepherd mean,
Keeps sheep on yonder hill, O,
And ye may gae and speir at him,
For I am at his will, O."20

Drum is to her father gane,
Keeping his sheep on yon hill, O;
And he has gotten his consent
That the may was at his will, O.

"But my dochter can neither read nor write,25
She was ne'er brought up at scheel, O;
But weel can she milk cow and ewe,
And mak a kebbuck weel, O.

"She'll win in your barn at bear-seed time,
Cast out your muck at Yule, O,30
She'll saddle your steed in time o' need,
And draw aff your boots hersell, O."

"Have not I no clergymen?
Pay I no clergy fee, O?
I'll scheel her as I think fit,35
And as I think weel to be, O.

"I'll learn your lassie to read and write,
And I'll put her to the scheel, O;
She'll neither need to saddle my steed,
Nor draw aff my boots hersell, O.40

"But wha will bake my bridal bread,
Or brew my bridal ale, O;
And wha will welcome my bonnie bride,
Is mair than I can tell, O."

Drum is to the hielands gane,45
For to mak a' ready,
And a' the gentry round about,
Cried, "Yonder's Drum and his lady!

"Peggy Coutts is a very bonnie bride,
And Drum is a wealthy laddie,50
But he micht hae chosen a hier match,
Than onie shepherd's lassie."

Then up bespak his brither John,
Says, "Ye've deen us meikle wrang, O;
Ye've married een below our degree,55
A lake to a' our kin, O."

"Hold your tongue, my brither John,
I have deen you na wrang, O;
For I've married een to wirk and win,
And ye've married een to spend, O.60

"The first time that I had a wife,
She was far abeen my degree, O;
I durst na come in her presence,
But wi' my hat upo' my knee, O.

"The first wife that I did wed,65
She was far abeen my degree, O;
She wadna hae walk'd to the yetts o' Drum,
But the pearls abeen her bree, O.

"But an she was ador'd for as much gold,
As Peggy's for beautie, O,70
She micht walk to the yetts o' Drum,
Amang gueed companie, O."

There war four and twenty gentlemen
Stood at the yetts o' Drum, O;
There was na ane amang them a'75
That welcom'd his lady in, O.

He has tane her by the milk-white hand,
And led her in himsel, O,
And in thro' ha's, and in thro' bouers,—

"And ye're welcome, Lady o' Drum, O."80

Thrice he kissed her cherry cheek,
And thrice her cherry chin, O;
And twenty times her comely mou',—
"And ye're welcome, Lady o' Drum, O.

"Ye sall be cook in my kitchen,85
Butler in my ha', O;
Ye sall be lady in my command,
Whan I ride far awa, O."—

"But I told ye afore we war wed,
I was owre low for thee, O;90
But now we are wed, and in ae bed laid,
And ye maun be content wi' me, O.

"For an I war dead, and ye war dead,
And baith in ae grave laid, O,
And ye and I war tane up again,95
Wha could distan your mouls frae mine, O?"

LADY ANNE BOTHWELL'S LAMENT.

The unhappy lady into whose mouth some unknown poet has put this lament, is now ascertained to have been Anne, daughter to Bothwell, Bishop of Orkney. Her faithless lover was her cousin, Alexander Erskine, son to the Earl of Mar. Lady Anne is said to have possessed great beauty, and Sir Alexander was reputed the handsomest man of his age. He was first a colonel in the French army, but afterwards engaged in the service of the Covenanters, and came to his death by being blown up, with many other persons of rank, in Douglass Castle, on the 30th of August, 1640. The events which occasioned the ballad seem to have taken place early in the seventeenth century. Of the fate of the lady subsequent to this period nothing is known. See Chambers, Scottish Ballads, p. 150, and The Scots Musical Museum, (1853,) iv. 203*.

In Brome's comedy of The Northern Lass, or the Nest of Fools, acted in 1632, occur the two following stanzas. They are, perhaps, a part of the original Lament, which certainly has undergone great alterations in its progress down to our times.

"Peace, wayward barne! Oh cease thy moan!
Thy farre more wayward daddy's gone,
And never will recalled be,
By cryes of either thee or me:
For should wee cry
Until we dye,
Wee could not scant his cruelty.
Ballow, ballow, &c.

"He needs might in himselfe foresee
What thou successively might'st be;
And could hee then (though me foregoe)
His infant leave, ere hee did know
How like the dad
Would be the lad,
In time to make fond maydens glad?
Ballow, ballow, &c."

The first professed edition of this piece is in the Third Part of Watson's Collection of Comic and Serious Scots Poems, p. 79; the next in the Tea-Table Miscellany, i. 161. Both of these copies have been modernized, but Ramsay's is the better of the two, and equally authentic. We therefore select Ramsay's, and add to it [Percy's], which contains three stanzas not found in the others, and preserves somewhat more of the air of antiquity. There is a version extending to fifteen stanzas, arranged in a very different order, in Evans's Old Ballads, i. 259. Herd, Ritson, &c., have followed Ramsay.

Balow, my boy, ly still and sleep,
It grieves me sore to hear thee weep:

If thou'lt be silent, I'll be glad,
Thy mourning makes my heart full sad.
Balow, my boy, thy mother's joy,5
Thy father bred me great annoy.
Balow, my boy, ly still and sleep,
It grieves me sore to hear thee weep.

Balow, my darling, sleep a while,
And when thou wak'st, then sweetly smile;10
But smile not as thy father did,
To cozen maids, nay, God forbid;
For in thine eye his look I see,
The tempting look that ruin'd me,
Balow, my boy, &c.15

When he began to court my love,
And with his sugar'd words to move,
His tempting face, and flatt'ring chear
In time to me did not appear;
But now I see that cruel he20
Cares neither for his babe nor me.
Balow, my boy, &c.

Fareweel, fareweel, thou falsest youth
That ever kist a woman's mouth;
Let never any after me25
Submit unto thy courtesy!
For, if they do, O! cruel thou
Wilt her abuse, and care not how.
Balow, my boy, &c.

I was too cred'lous at the first,30
To yield thee all a maiden durst;
Thou swore for ever true to prove,
Thy faith unchang'd, unchang'd thy love;
But quick as thought the change is wrought,
Thy love's no mair, thy promise nought.35
Balow, my boy, &c.

I wish I were a maid again!
From young men's flatt'ry I'd refrain;
For now unto my grief I find
They all are perjur'd and unkind;40
Bewitching charms bred all my harms;—
Witness my babe lies in my arms.
Balow, my boy, &c.

I take my fate from bad to worse,
That I must needs be now a nurse,45
And lull my young son on my lap:
From me, sweet orphan, take the pap.
Balow, my child, thy mother mild
Shall wail as from all bliss exil'd.
Balow, my boy, &c.50

Balow, my boy, weep not for me,
Whose greatest grief's for wronging thee;
Nor pity her deserved smart,
Who can blame none but her fond heart;
For, too soon trusting latest finds55
With fairest tongues are falsest minds.
Balow, my boy, &c.

Balow, my boy, thy father's fled,
When he the thriftless son has played;
Of vows and oaths forgetful, he60
Preferr'd the wars to thee and me.
But now, perhaps, thy curse and mine
Make him eat acorns with the swine.
Balow, my boy, &c.

But curse not him; perhaps now he,65
Stung with remorse, is blessing thee:
Perhaps at death; for who can tell,
Whether the judge of heaven or hell,
By some proud foe has struck the blow,
And laid the dear deceiver low?70
Balow, my boy, &c.

I wish I were into the bounds
Where he lies smother'd in his wounds,
Repeating, as he pants for air,
My name, whom once he call'd his fair;75
No woman's yet so fiercely set,
But she'll forgive, though not forget.
Balow, my boy, &c.

If linen lacks, for my love's sake,
Then quickly to him would I make80
My smock, once for his body meet,
And wrap him in that winding-sheet
Ah me! how happy had I been,
If he had ne'er been wrapt therein.
Balow, my boy, &c.

Balow, my boy, I'll weep for thee:85
Too soon, alake, thou'lt weep for me:
Thy griefs are growing to a sum,
God grant thee patience when they come;
Born to sustain thy mother's shame,
A hapless fate, a bastard's name.90
Balow, my boy, ly still and sleep,
It grieves me sore to hear thee weep.

LADY ANNE BOTHWELL'S LAMENT.

From Percy's Reliques, ii. 207.

"From a copy in the Editor's folio MS., corrected by another in Allan Ramsay's Miscellany."

Balow, my babe, lye still and sleipe!
It grieves me sair to see thee weipe:
If thoust be silent, Ise be glad,
Thy maining maks my heart ful sad.
Balow, my boy, thy mothers joy,5
Thy father breides me great annoy.
Balow, my babe, ly stil and sleipe,
It grieves me sair to see thee weepe.

Whan he began to court my luve,
And with his sugred wordes to muve,10
His faynings fals and flattering cheire
To me that time did not appeire:
But now I see, most cruell hee
Cares neither for my babe nor mee.

Balow, &c.15

Lye still, my darling, sleipe a while,
And when thou wakest, sweitly smile:
But smile not, as thy father did,
To cozen maids; nay, God forbid!
But yett I feire, thou wilt gae neire20
Thy fatheris hart and face to beire.
Balow, &c.

I cannae chuse, but ever will
Be luving to thy father still:
Whaireir he gae, whaireir he ryde,25
My luve with him doth still abyde:
In weil or wae, whaireir he gae,
Mine hart can neire depart him frae.
Balow, &c.

But doe not, doe not, pretty mine,30
To faynings fals thine hart incline;
Be loyal to thy luver trew,
And nevir change her for a new:
If gude or faire, of hir have care,
For womens banning 's wonderous sair.35
Balow, &c.

Bairne, sin thy cruel father is gane,
Thy winsome smiles maun eise my paine;
My babe and I'll together live,
He'll comfort me when cares doe grieve:
My babe and I right saft will ly,40
And quite forgeit man's cruelty.
Balow, &c.

Fareweil, fareweil, thou falsest youth,
That evir kist a womans mouth!45
I wish all maides be warned by mee
Nevir to trust mans curtesy;
For if we doe bot chance to bow,
They'll use us then they care not how.
Balow, my babe, ly stil and sleipe,
It grieves me sair to see thee weipe.50

WALY, WALY, BUT LOVE BE BONNY.

These beautiful verses are thought to be only a part of Lord Jamie Douglas, (see the next piece,) in one copy or another of which, according to Motherwell, nearly all of them are to be found. They were first published in the Tea-Table Miscellany, (i. 231,) and are here given as they there appear, separate from an explicit story. Although in this condition they must be looked upon as a fragment, still, they are too awkwardly introduced in the ballad above mentioned, and too superior to the rest of the composition, to allow of our believing that they have as yet found their proper connection.

In Johnson's Museum, (i. 166,) besides several trifling variations from Ramsay's copy, the fourth is replaced by the following:

When cockle shells turn siller bells,
And mussels grow on every tree,
When frost and snaw shall warm us a',
Then shall my love prove true to me.

The third stanza stands thus in a Christmas medley,

quoted by Leyden from a "MS. Cantus of the latter part of the 17th century:"

Hey troly loly, love is joly,
A whyle whill it is new;
When it is old, it grows full cold,—
Woe worth the love untrue!
Complaynt of Scotland, i. 278.

O waly, waly up the bank,
And waly, waly down the brae,
And waly, waly yon burn side,
Where I and my love wont to gae.

I lean'd my back unto an aik,5
I thought it was a trusty tree;
But first it bow'd, and syne it brak,
Sae my true love did lightly me!

O waly, waly, but love be bonny,
A little time while it is new;10
But when 'tis auld, it waxeth cauld,
And fades away like the morning dew.

O wherefore should I busk my head?
Or wherfore should I kame my hair?
For my true love has me forsook,15
And says he'll never love me mair.

Now Arthur-Seat shall be my bed,
The sheets shall ne'er be fyl'd by me:

Saint Anton's well shall be my drink,
Since my true love has forsaken me.20

Martinmas wind, when wilt thou blaw,
And shake the green leaves off the tree?
O gentle death, when wilt thou come?
For of my life I'm weary.

'Tis not the frost that freezes fell,25
Nor blawing snaw's inclemency;
'Tis not sic cauld that makes me cry,
But my love's heart grown cauld to me.

When we came in by Glasgow town,
We were a comely sight to see;30
My love was clad in the black velvet,
And I my sell in cramasie.

But had I wist, before I kiss'd,
That love had been sae ill to win,
I'd lock'd my heart in a case of gold,35
And pin'd it with a silver pin.

Oh, oh, if my young babe were born,
And set upon the nurse's knee,
And I my sell were dead and gane!
For a maid again I'll never be.40

LORD JAMIE DOUGLAS.

From the appendix to Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. v. [An imperfect copy of this ballad] was printed in Finlay's collection, vol. ii. p. 4; another, called the [Laird of Blackwood], in Kinloch's, p. 60. Both of them may be seen at the end of this volume. Chambers has compiled a ballad in four parts from these three versions, another in manuscript, furnished by Kinloch, and the verses just given from Ramsay's Miscellany; and Aytoun, more recently, has made up a ballad from two copies obtained from recitation by Kinloch, and called it The Marchioness of Douglas. Ballads of Scotland, 2d ed. i. 135.

The circumstances which gave rise to the ballad are thus stated by Chambers: "James, second Marquis of Douglas, when aged twenty-four, married at Edinburgh, on the 7th of September, 1670, Lady Barbara Erskine, eldest daughter of John, ninth Earl of Mar. This lady is said to have been previously wooed, without success, by a gentleman of the name of Lowrie, who on account of his afterwards marrying Mariotte Weir, heiress of Blackwood, in Lanarkshire, was commonly called, according to the custom of Scotland, the Tutor, and sometimes the Laird, of Blackwood. Lowrie, who seems to have been considerably advanced in life at the time, was chamberlain or factor to the Marquis of Douglas; a circumstance which gave him peculiar facilities for executing an atrocious scheme of vengeance he had projected against the lady. By a train of proceedings somewhat similar to those of

Iago, and in particular, by pretending to have discovered a pair of men's shoes underneath the Marchioness's bed, he completely succeeded in breaking up the affection of the unfortunate couple. Lord Douglas, who, though a man of profligate conduct, had hitherto treated his wife with some degree of politeness, now rendered her life so miserable, that she was obliged to seek refuge with her father. The earl came with a large retinue to carry her off, when, according to the ballad, as well as the tradition of the country, a most affecting scene took place. The Marquis himself was so much overcome by the parting of his wife and child—for she had now borne a son—that he expressed, even in that last hour, a desire of being reconciled to her. But the traitorous Lowrie succeeded in preventing him from doing so, by a well-aimed sarcasm at his weakness.... Regarding the ultimate fate of the Marchioness I am altogether ignorant. It is, however, very improbable that any reconciliation ever took place between her and her husband, such as is related in the ballad." Scottish Ballads, p. 150.

O waly, waly up the bank,
And waly, waly down the brae,
And waly, waly by yon burn side,
Where me and my lord was wont to gae.

Hey nonny nonnie, but love is bonnie,5
A little while when it is new;
But when love grows auld it grows mair cauld,
And fades away like the morning dew.

I lean'd my back against an aik,
I thocht it was a trustie tree;10
But first it bowed, and syne it break,
And sae did my fause luve to me.

My mother tauld me when I was young,
That young man's love was ill to trow;
But untill her I would give nae ear,15
And alace my ain wand dings me now!

O wherefore need I busk my head?
O wherefore should I kaim my hair?
For my good lord has me forsook,
And says he'll never love me mair.20

Gin I had wist or I had kisst
That young man's love was sae ill to win,
I would hae lockt my hert wi' a key o' gowd,
And pinn'd it wi' a siller pin.

An I had kent what I ken now,25
I'd never crosst the water Tay,
But stayed still at Athole's gates;—
He would have made me his lady gay.

When lords and lairds cam to this toun,
And gentlemen o' a high degree,30
I took my auld son in my arms,
And went to my chamber pleasantlie.

But when lords and lairds [come] through this toun,
And gentlemen o' a high degree,
I must sit alane intill the dark,35
And the babie on the nurse's knee.

I had a nurse, and she was fair;
She was a dearly nurse to me;
She took my gay lord frae my side,
And used him in her companie.40

Awa, awa, thou fause Blackwood,
Aye, and an ill death may thou die!
Thou wert the first and occasion last
Of parting my gay lord and me.

When I lay sick, and very sick,45
Sick I was and like to die,
A gentleman, a friend of mine,
He came on purpose to visit me;
But Blackwood whisper'd in my lord's ear
He was ower lang in chamber with me.50

When I was sick, and very sick,
Sick I was and like to die,
I drew me near to my stairhead,
And I heard my ain lord lichtly me.

"Come down, come down, O Jamie Douglas,55
And drink the orange wine with me;
I'll set thee on a chair of gold,
And daut thee kindly on my knee."

"When sea and sand turn far inland,
And mussels grow on ilka tree,60
When cockle shells turn siller bells,
I'll drink the orange wine wi' thee."

"What ails you at our youngest son,
That sits upon the nurse's knee?
I'm sure he's never done any harm,65
An it's not to his ain nurse and me."

If I had kent what I ken now,
That love it was sae ill to win,
I should ne'er hae wet my cherry cheek
For onie man or woman's son.70

When my father came to hear
That my gay lord had forsaken me,
He sent five score of his soldiers bright
To take me safe to my ain countrie.

Up in the mornin' when I arose,75
My bonnie palace for to lea',
I whispered in at my lord's window,
But the never a word he would answer me.

"Fare ye weel, then, Jamie Douglas,
I need care as little as ye care for me;80
The Earl of Mar is my father dear,
And I soon will see my ain countrie.

"Ye thought that I was like yoursell,
And loving ilk ane I did see;
But here I swear by the heavens clear,85
I never loved a man but thee."

Slowly, slowly rose I up,
And slowly, slowly I cam down;
And when he saw me sit in my coach,
He made his drums and trumpets sound.90

When I into my coach was set,
My tenants all were with me tane;
They set them down upon their knees,
And they begg'd me to come back again.

It's "fare ye weel, my bonnie palace;95
And fare ye weel, my children three:
God grant your father may get mair grace,
And love thee better than he has done me."

It's "fare ye weel, my servants all;
And you, my bonnie children three:100
God grant your father grace to be kind
Till I see you safe in my ain countrie.

"But wae be to you, fause Blackwood,
Aye, and ill death may you die!
Ye are the first, and I hope the last,105
That put strife between my good lord and me."

When I came in through Edinburgh town,
My loving father came to meet me,
With trumpets sounding on every side;
But it was no comfort at all to me:110
For no mirth nor music sounds in my ear,
Since the Earl of March has forsaken me.

"Hold your tongue, my daughter dear,
And of your weeping pray let abee;
For I'll send to him a bill of divorce,115
And I'll get as good a lord to thee."

"Hold your tongue, my father dear,
And of your scoffing pray let abee;
I would rather hae a kiss of my ain lord's mouth
As all the lords in the north countrie."120

When she came to her father's land,
The tenants a' cam her to see;
Never a word she could speak to them,
[But the buttons aff her clothes did flee.]

"The linnet is a bonnie bird,125
And aften flees far frae its nest;
So all the world may plainly see
They 're far awa that I love best!"

She looked out at her father's window,
To take a view of the countrie;130
Who did she see but Jamie Douglas,
And along with him her children three.

There came a soldier to the gate,
And he did knock right hastilie:
"If Lady Douglas be within,135
Bid her come down and speak to me."

"O come away, my lady fair,
Come away, now, alang with me:
For I have hanged fause Blackwood
At the very place where he told the lie."140

[33], cam.

[124]. See Andrew Lammie, vol. ii. 191.

THE NUTBROWNE MAIDE.

We owe the preservation of this beautiful old ballad to Arnold's Chronicle, of which the earliest edition is thought to have been printed in 1502. In Laneham's account of Elizabeth's visit to Kenilworth, the Nut-brown Maid is mentioned as a book by itself, and there is said to be at Oxford a list of books offered for sale at that place in 1520, among which is the Not-Broon Mayd, price one penny; still, the ballad is not known to exist at present in any other ancient form than that of the Chronicle. We have no means of determining the date of the composition, but Percy has justly remarked that it is not probable that an antiquary would have inserted a piece in his historical collections which he knew to be modern. The language is that of the time at which it was printed.

The ballad seems to have been long forgotten, when it was revived in The Muse's Mercury for June, 1707, (Percy.) There Prior met with it, and, charmed with its merit, he took the story for the foundation of his Henry and Emma. Capel, in 1760, published a collated text from two different editions of the Chronicle,—we suppose that of 1502, and the second, which was printed in 1521, and exhibits some differences. Percy adopted Capel's text with a few alterations, (Reliques, ii. 30.) The text of the edition of 1502 has been twice reprinted since Percy's time: in the

Censura Literaria, vol. i. p. 15, and by Mr. Wright, in a little black-letter volume, London, 1836. We have adopted Mr. Wright's text, not neglecting to compare it with that of Sir Egerton Brydges.

It will be interesting to compare with this matchless poem a ballad in other languages, which has the same drift;—Die Lind im Thale, or Liebesprobe, Erk, Deutscher Liederhort, p. 1, 3; Uhland, No. 116; Hoffmann, Schlesische V. L., No. 22, Niederländische V. L., No. 26; Haupt and Schmaler, V. L. der Wenden, i. 72 (Hoffmann).

In the sixteenth century a ridiculous attempt was made to supplant the popular ballads in the mouths and affections of the people by turning them into pious parodies. The Nut-Brown Maid was treated in this way, and the result may be seen in The New Not-borune Mayd, printed by the Roxburghe Club, and by the Percy Society, vol. vi.

"Be it right or wrong, these men among
On women do complaine,
Affermyng this, how that it is
A labour spent in vaine
To love them wele, for never a dele5
They love a man agayne:
For lete a man do what he can
Ther favour to attayne,
Yet yf a newe [do] them pursue,
Ther furst trew lover than10
Laboureth for nought, and from her thought
He is a bannished man."

"I say not nay, but that all day
It is bothe writ and sayde,
That womans fayth is, as who sayth,15
All utterly decayed:
But nevertheles, right good witnes
In this case might be layde,
That they love trewe, and contynew,—
Recorde THE NUTBROWNE MAIDE;20
Whiche from her love, whan her to prove
He cam to make his mone,
Wolde not departe, for in her herte
She lovyd but hym allone."

"Than betwene us lete us discusse25
What was all the manér
Betwene them too; we wyl also
Telle all [the] peyne and fere
That she was in; nowe I begynne,
[See] that ye me answére:30
Wherfore [all] ye that present be,
I pray you geve an eare.
I am the knyght, I cum be nyght,
As secret as I can,
Sayng 'Alas! thus stondyth the [case],35
I am a bannisshed man!'"

"And I your wylle for to fulfylle
In this wyl not refuse,

Trusting to shewe, in wordis fewe,
That men have an ille use,40
To ther owne shame, wymen to blame,
And causeles them accuse:
Therfore to you I answere now,
Alle wymen to excuse,
'Myn owne hert dere, with you what chiere?45
I prey you telle anoon:
For in my mynde, of all mankynde
I love but you allon.'"

"It stondith so: a deed is do
[Wherof] moche harme shal growe.50
My desteny is for to dey
A shamful dethe, I trowe,
Or ellis to flee,—the ton must be:
None other wey I knowe,
But to withdrawe as an outlaw,55
And take me to my bowe.
Wherfore, adew, my owne hert trewe,
None other red I can;
For I muste to the grene wode goo,
Alone, a bannysshed man."60

"O Lorde, what is this worldis blisse
That chaungeth as the mone!
My somers day in lusty May
Is derked before the none.

I here you saye Farwel: nay, nay,65
We departe not soo sone.
Why say ye so? Wheder wyl ye goo?
Alas, what have ye done?
Alle my welfare to sorow and care
Shulde chaunge, yf ye were gon:70
For in my mynde, of all mankynde
I love but you alone."

"I can beleve it shal you greve,
And somewhat you distrayne;
But aftyrwarde your paynes harde,75
Within a day or tweyne,
Shal sone aslake, and ye shal take
Confort to you agayne.
Why shuld ye nought? for, to make thought
Your labur were in vayne:80
And thus I do, and pray you, too,
As hertely as I can:
For I muste too the grene wode goo,
Alone, a banysshed man."

"Now syth that ye have shewed to me85
The secret of your mynde,
I shal be playne to you agayne,
Lyke as ye shal me fynde:
Syth it is so that ye wyll goo,
I wol not leve behynde;90
Shal never be sayd the Nutbrowne Mayd
Was to her love unkind.

Make you redy, for soo am I,
All though it were anoon;
For in my mynde, of all mankynde95
I love but you alone."

"Yet I you rede to take good hede
[What] men wyl thinke and sey;
Of yonge and olde it shal be told,
That ye be gone away100
Your wanton wylle for to fulfylle,
In grene wood you to play;
And that ye myght from your delyte
Noo lenger make delay.
Rather than ye shuld thus for me105
Be called an ylle woman,
Yet wolde I to the grene wodde goo
Alone, a banysshed man."

"Though it be songe of olde and yonge
That I shuld be to blame,110
Theirs be the charge that speke so large
In hurting of my name.
For I wyl prove that feythful love
It is devoyd of shame,
In your distresse and hevynesse,115
To parte wyth you the same;
And sure all thoo that doo not so,

Trewe lovers ar they noon;
But in my mynde, of all mankynde
I love but you alone."120

"I counsel yow remembre how
It is noo maydens lawe,
Nothing to dought, but to renne out
To wod with an outlawe.
For ye must there in your hande bere125
A bowe to bere and drawe,
And as a theef thus must ye lyeve,
Ever in drede and awe;
By whiche to yow gret harme myght grow;—
Yet had I lever than130
That I had too the grenewod goo
Alone, a banysshyd man."

"I thinke not nay; but, as ye saye,
It is noo maydens lore;
But love may make me for your sake,135
As ye have said before,
To com on fote, to hunte and shote
To gete us mete and store;
For soo that I your company
May have, I aske noo more;140
From whiche to parte, it makith myn herte
As colde as ony ston:
For in my mynde, of all mankynde
I love but you alone."

"For an outlawe this is the lawe,145
That men hym take and binde,
Without pytee hanged to bee,
And waver with the wynde.
Yf I had neede, as God forbede,
What rescous coude ye finde?150
For sothe, I trowe, you and your bowe
[Shuld] drawe for fere behynde:
And noo merveyle; for lytel avayle
Were in your councel than;
Wherfore I too the woode wyl goo155
Alone, a banysshed man."

"Ful wel knowe ye that wymen bee
Ful febyl for to fyght;
Noo womanhed is it indeede,
To bee bolde as a knight.160
Yet in suche fere yf that ye were,
Amonge enemys day and nyght,
I wolde wythstonde, with bowe in hande,
To greeve them as I myght,
And you to save, as wymen have,165
From deth many one:
For in my mynde, of all mankynde
I love but you alone."

"Yet take good hede; for ever I drede
That ye coude not sustein170
The thorney wayes, the depe valeis,
The snowe, the frost, the reyn,

The colde, the hete; for, drye or wete,
We must lodge on the playn;
And us aboove noon other rove175
But a brake bussh or twayne;
Whiche sone shulde greve you, I beleve,
And ye wolde gladly than
That I had too the grenewode goo
Alone, a banysshyd man."180

"Syth I have here been partynere
With you of joy and blysse,
I must also parte of your woo
Endure, as reason is;
Yet am I sure of oo plesure,185
And shortly, it is this;
That where ye bee, mesemeth, perdé,
I coude not fare amysse.
Wythout more speche, I you beseche
That we were soon agone;190
For in my mynde, of all mankynde
I love but you alone."

"Yf ye goo thedyr, ye must consider,
Whan ye have lust to dyne,
Ther shel no mete be fore to gete,195
Nor drinke, bere, ale, ne wine;
Ne shetis clene to lye betwene,
Made of thred and twyne:
Noon other house but levys and bowes

To kever your [hed] and myn.200
Loo, myn herte swete, this ylle dyet
Shuld make you pale and wan:
Wherfore I to the wood wyl goo
Alone, a banysshid man."

"Amonge the wylde dere suche an archier205
As men say that ye bee
Ne may not fayle of good vitayle,
Where is so grete plente;
And watir cleere of the ryvere
Shal be ful swete to me,210
Wyth whiche in hele I shal right wele
Endure, as ye shall see:
And er we go, a bed or too
I can provide anoon;
For in my mynde, of all mankynde215
I love but you alone."

"Loo, yet before, ye must doo more,
Yf ye wyl goo with me,
As cutte your here up by your ere,
Your kirtel by the knee;220
Wyth bowe in hande, for to withstonde
Your enmys, yf nede bee;
And this same nyght, before daylight,
To woodward wyl I flee;
And [if] ye wyl all this fulfylle,225
Doo it shortely as ye can:
Ellis wil I to the grene wode goo
Alone, a banysshyd man."

"I shal as now do more for you
[Than longeth to womanhede],230
To short my here, a bowe to bere,
To shote in tyme of nede:
O my swete moder, before all other,
For you have I most drede!
But now, adiew! I must ensue235
Wher fortune duth me leede.
All this make ye; now lete us flee;
The day [cums] fast upon;
For in my mynde, of all mankynde
I love but you alone."240

"Nay, nay, not soo; ye shal not goo;
And I shal telle you why;
Your appetyte is to be lyght
Of love, I wele aspie:
For right as ye have sayd to me,245
In lyke wyse, hardely,
Ye wolde answere, who so ever it were,
In way of company.
It is sayd of olde, sone hote, sone colde,
And so is a woman;250
Wherfore I too the woode wyl goo
Alone, a banysshid man."

"Yef ye take hede, [yt is] noo nede
Suche wordis to say bee me;

For ofte ye preyd, and longe assayed,255
Or I you lovid, perdé.
And though that I of auncestry
A barons doughter bee,
Yet have you proved how I you loved,
A squyer of lowe degree;260
And ever shal, what so befalle,
To dey therfore anoon;
For in my mynde, of al mankynde
I love but you alone."

"A barons childe to be begyled,265
It were a curssed dede!
To be felow with an outlawe,
Almyghty God forbede!
Yet bettyr were the power squyer
Alone to forest yede,270
Than ye shal saye another day,
That be [my] wyked dede
Ye were betrayed; wherfore, good maide,
The best red that I can
Is that I too the greene wode goo275
Alone, a banysshed man."

"Whatsoever befalle, I never shal
Of this thing you upbraid;
But yf ye goo, and leve me soo,
Than have ye me betraied.280
Remembre you wele, how that ye dele,
For yf ye, as ye sayde,

Be so unkynde to leve behynd
Your love, the Notbrowne Maide,
Trust me truly, that I shal dey,285
Sone after ye be gone;
For in my mynde, of all mankynde
I love but you alone."

"Yef that ye went, ye shulde repent,
For in the forest now290
I have purveid me of a maide,
Whom I love more than you:
Another fayrer than ever ye were,
I dare it wel avowe;
And of you bothe eche shulde be wrothe295
With other, as I trowe.
It were myn ease to lyve in pease;
So wyl I, yf I can;
Wherfore I to the wode wyl goo
Alone, a banysshid man."300

"Though in the wood I undirstode
Ye had a paramour,
All this may nought remeve my thought,
But that I wil be your;
And she shal fynde me softe and kynde,305
And curteis every our,
Glad to fulfylle all that she wylle
Commaunde me, to my power;
For had ye, loo, an hundred moo,

[Yet wolde I be that one.]310
For in my mynde, of all mankynde
I love but you alone."

"Myn oune dere love, I see the prove
That ye be kynde and trewe;
Of mayde and wyf, in all my lyf,315
The best that ever I knewe.
Be mery and glad, be no more sad,
The case is chaunged newe;
For it were ruthe that for your trouth
You shuld have cause to rewe.320
Be not dismayed: whatsoever I sayd
To you whan I began,
I wyl not too the grene wod goo;
I am noo banysshyd man."

"Theis tidingis be more glad to me325
Than to be made a quene,
Yf I were sure they shuld endure;
But it is often seen,
When men wyl breke promyse, they speke
The wordis on the splene.330
Ye shape some wyle me to begyle,
And stele fro me, I wene;
Then were the case wurs than it was,
And I more woo-begone;
For in my mynde, of all mankynde335
I love but you alone."

"Ye shal not nede further to drede:
I wyl not disparage
You, God defende! sith you descende
Of so grete a lynage.340
Nou understonde, to Westmerlande,
Which is my herytage,
I wyl you bringe, and wyth a rynge,
Be wey of maryage,
I wyl you take, and lady make,345
As shortly as I can:
Thus have ye wone an erles son,
And not a banysshyd man."

Here may ye see, that wymen be
In love meke, kinde, and stable:350
Late never man repreve them than,
Or calle them variable;
But rather prey God that we may
To them be comfortable,
Whiche somtyme provyth suche as loveth,355
Yf they be charitable.
For sith men wolde that wymen sholde
Be meke to them echeon,
Moche more ought they to God obey,
And serve but hym alone.360

[9], to.

[28], they.

[30], Soe.

[35], cause.

[50]. Wherfore.

v. [98], Whan.

v. [152], Shul.

[200], bed, Wright.

v. [230], That, womanhod.

[238], cum.

v. [253], yet is.

v. [310], Of them I wolde be one. Percy MS.

THE BAILIFF'S DAUGHTER OF ISLINGTON.

From Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, iii. 177. Another copy is in Ritson's Ancient Songs, ii. 134.

"From an ancient black-letter copy in the Pepys collection, with some improvements communicated by a lady as she had heard the same recited in her youth. The full title is, True love requited: Or, the Bailiff's daughter of Islington."—Percy.

There was a youthe, and a well-beloved youthe,
And he was a squires son:
He loved the bayliffes daughter deare,
That lived in Islington.

Yet she was coye, and would not believe5
That he did love her soe,
Noe nor at any time would she
Any countenance to him showe.

But when his friendes did understand
His fond and foolish minde,10
They sent him up to faire London,
An apprentice for to binde.

And when he had been seven long yeares,
And never his love could see,—
"Many a teare have I shed for her sake,15
When she little thought of mee."

Then all the maids of Islington
Went forth to sport and playe,
All but the bayliffes daughter deare;
She secretly stole awaye.20

She pulled off her gowne of greene,
And put on ragged attire,
And to faire London she would go,
Her true love to enquire.

And as she went along the high road,25
The weather being hot and drye,
She sat her downe upon a green bank,
And her true love came riding bye.

She started up, with a colour soe redd,
Catching hold of his bridle-reine;30
"One penny, one penny, kind sir," she sayd,
"Will ease me of much paine."

"Before I give you one penny, sweet-heart,
Praye tell me where you were borne."
"At Islington, kind sir," sayd shee,35
"Where I have had many a scorne."

"I prythee, sweet-heart, then tell to mee,
O tell me, whether you knowe
The bayliffes daughter of Islington."
"She is dead, sir, long agoe."40

"If she be dead, then take my horse,
My saddle and bridle also;
For I will into some farr countrye,
Where noe man shall me knowe."

"O staye, O staye, thou goodlye youthe,45
She standeth by thy side;
She is here alive, she is not dead,
And readye to be thy bride."

"O farewell griefe, and welcome joye,
Ten thousand times therefore;50
For nowe I have founde mine owne true love,
Whom I thought I should never see more."

THE BLIND BEGGAR'S DAUGHTER OF BEDNALL GREEN.

The copy here given of this favorite popular ballad is derived from Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs of the Peasantry of England, Percy Society, xvii. 60. It is there printed from a modern broadside, "carefully collated" with a copy in the Bagford collection. In Percy's edition, (Reliques, ii. 171,) besides many trivial emendations, eight modern stanzas (said to be the work of Robert Dodsley) are substituted for the first five of the Beggar's second song, "to remove absurdities and inconsistencies," and to reconcile the story to probability and true history! The copy in A Collection of Old Ballads, ii. 202, is not very different from the present, and the few changes that have been made in the text selected, unless otherwise accounted for, are adopted from that.

"Pepys, in his diary, 25th June, 1663, speaks of going with Sir William and Lady Batten, and Sir J. Minnes, to Sir W. Rider's at Bednall Green, to dinner, 'a fine place;' and adds, 'This very house was built by the Blind Beggar of Bednall Green, so much talked of and sung in ballads; but they say it was only some outhouses of it.'" Chappell, Popular Musk of the Olden Time, p. 159.

This song's of a beggar who long lost his sight,
And had a fair daughter, most pleasant and bright;
And many a gallant brave suitor had she,
And none was so comely as pretty Bessee.

And though she was of complexion most fair,5
[Yet seeing] she was but a beggar his heir,
Of ancient housekeepers despised was she,
Whose sons came as suitors to pretty Bessee.

Wherefore in great sorrow fair Bessee did say,
"Good father and mother, let me now go away,10
To seek out my fortune, whatever it be;"
This suit then was granted to pretty Bessee.

This Bessee, that was of a beauty most bright,
They clad in gray russet, and late in the night
From father and mother alone parted she,15
Who sighed and sobbed for pretty Bessee.

She went till she came to Stratford-at-Bow,
Then she knew not whither or which way to go;
With tears she lamented her sad destiny,
So sad and so heavy was pretty Bessee.20

She kept on her journey until it was day,
And went unto Rumford along the highway;
And at the King's Arms entertained was she,
So fair and well-favoured was pretty Bessee.

She had not been there one month at an end,25
But master and mistress and all was her friend;
And every brave gallant that once did her see
Was straightway in love with pretty Bessee.

Great gifts they did send her of silver and gold,
And in their songs daily her love they extoll'd;30
Her beauty was blazed in every degree,
So fair and so comely was pretty Bessee.

The young men of Rumford in her had their joy;
She shewed herself courteous, but never too coy,
And at their commandment still she would be,35
So fair and so comely was pretty Bessee.

Four suitors at once unto her did go,
They craved her favour, but still she said no;
"I would not have gentlemen marry with me,"—
Yet ever they honoured pretty Bessee.40

Now one of them was a gallant young knight,
And he came unto her disguised in the night;
The second, a gentleman of high degree,
Who wooed and sued for pretty Bessee.