J
Communicated by Dr George Birkbeck Hill, May 10, 1890, as learned forty years before from a schoolfellow, who came from the north of Somersetshire and sang it in the dialect of that region. Given from memory.
1
‘Hold up, hold up your hands so high!
Hold up your hands so high!
For I think I see my own father
Coming over yonder stile to me.
2
‘Oh father, have you got any gold for me?
Any money for to pay me free?
To keep my body from the cold clay ground,
And my neck from the gallows-tree?’
3
‘Oh no, I’ve got no gold for thee,
No money for to pay thee free,
For I’ve come to see thee hangd this day,
And hangëd thou shalt be.’
4
‘Oh the briers, prickly briers,
Come prick my heart so sore;
If ever I get from the gallows-tree,
I’ll never get there any more.’
[“The same verses are repeated, with mother, brother, and sister substituted for father. At last the sweetheart comes. The two first verses are the same, and the third and fourth as follows.”]
5
‘Oh yes, I’ve got some gold for thee,
Some money for to pay thee free;
I’ll save thy body from the cold clay ground,
And thy neck from the gallows-tree.’
6
‘Oh the briers, prickly briers,
Don’t prick my heart any more;
For now I’ve got from the gallows-tree
I’ll never get there any more.’
[“I do not know any title to this song except ‘Hold up, hold up your hands so high!’ It was by that title that we called for it.”]
Julius Krohn has lately made an important contribution to our knowledge of this ballad in an article in Virittäjä, II, 36–50, translated into German under the title ‘Das Lied vom Mädchen welches erlöst werden soll,’ Helsingfors, 1891. Professor Estlander had previously discussed the ballad in Finsk Tidskrift, X, 1881 (which I have not yet seen), and had sought to show that it was of Finnish origin, a view which Krohn disputes and refutes. There are nearly fifty Finnish versions. The curse with which I ends, and which is noted as occurring in Swedish C (compare also the Sicilian ballad), is never wanting in the Finnish, and is found also in the Esthonian copies.
96. The Gay Goshawk.
P. 356 a, III, 517 a. Add: (18) ‘La Fille dans la Tour,’ Daymard, Vieux Chants p. rec. en Quercy, p. 174 ; (19) ‘La belle dans la Tour,’ Pas de Calais, communicated by M. G. Doncieux to Revue des Traditions populaires, VI, 603 ; (20) ‘Belle Idoine,’ Questionnaire de Folklore, publié par la Société du Folklore Wallon, p. 79.
M. Doucieux has attempted a reconstruction of the text in Mélusine, V, 265 ff. He cites M. Gaston Paris as having lately pointed out a striking similitude between the first half of the French popular ballad and that of a little romance of Bele Ydoine composed in the twelfth century by Audefrois le Bastars (Bartsch, Altfranzösische Romanzen und Pastourellen, p. 59, No 57). This resemblance has, I suppose, occasioned the title of ‘Belle Idoine’ to be given editorially to No 20 above, for the name does not occur in the ballad.
356 b, III, 517 a. Add: ‘Au Jardin des Olives,’ Guillon, p. 83, ‘Dessous le Rosier blanc,’ Daymard, p. 171 (Les trois Capitaines). A girl feigns death to avoid becoming a king’s mistress, ‘Hertig Henrik och Konungen,’ Lagus, Nyländska Folkvisor, I, 117, No 37.
363. E. The following is the MS. copy, “of some antiquity,” from which E was in part constructed. (Whether it be the original or a transcript cannot be determined, but Mr Macmath informs me that the paper on which it is written “seems about the oldest sheet in the volume.”) The text was freely handled. ‘Lord William’ does not occur in it, but the name is found in another version which follows this.
“Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 146 a, Abbotsford.
1
‘O waly, waly, my gay goss-hawk,
Gin your feathering be sheen!’
‘O waly, waly, my master dear,
Gin ye look pale and lean!
2
‘Whether is it for the gold sae rid,
Or is it for the silver clear?
Or is it for the lass in southen land,
That she cannot win here.’
3
‘It is not for the gold sae rid,
Nor is it for the silver clear,
But it is for the lass in southen land,
That she cannot win her[e].’
4
‘Sit down, sit down, my master dear,
Write a love-letter hastily,
And put it in under my feathern gray,
And I’ll away to southen land as fast as I can flee.
5
‘But how shall I your true-love ken?
Or how shall I her know?
I bear the tongue never wi her spake,
The eye that never her saw.’
6
‘The red that is in my love’s cheek
Is like blood spilt amang the snaw;
The white that is on her breast-bone
Is like the down on the white sea-maw.
7
‘There’s one that stands at my love’s gate
And opens the silver pin,
And there ye may safely set ye on
And sing a lovely song.
8
‘First ye may sing it loud, loud, loud,
And then ye may sing it clear,
And ay the oerword of the tune
Is, Your love cannot win here.’
9
He has written a love-letter,
Put it under his feathern gray,
And he’s awa to southen land,
As fast as ever he may.
10
When he came to the lady’s gate,
There he lighted down,
And there he sat him on the pin
And sang a lovely song.
11
First he sang it loud, loud, loud,
And then he sang it clear,
And ay the oerword of the tune
Was, Your love cannot win here.
12
‘Hold your tongues, my merry maids all,
And hold them a little while;
I hear some word from my true-love,
That lives in Scotland’s isle.’
13
Up she rose, to the door she goes,
To hear what the bird woud say,
And he’s let the love-letter fall
From under his feathern gray.
14
When she looked the letter on,
The tear blinded her eye,
And when she read it oer and oer
A loud laughter took she.
15
‘Go hame, go hame, my bonny bird,
And to your master tell,
If I be nae wi him at Martinmass,
I shall be wi him at Yule.’
16
The lady’s to her chamber gane,
And a sick woman grew she;
The lady’s taen a sudden brash,
And nathing she’ll do but die.
17
‘An asking, an asking, my father dear,
An asking grant to me!
If that I die in southen land,
In Scotland bury me.’
18
‘Ask on, ask on, my daughter dear,
That asking is granted thee;
If that you die in southen land,
In Scotland I’ll bury thee.’
19
‘Gar call to me my seven bretheren,
To hew to me my bier,
The one half of the beaten gold,
The other of the silver clear.
20
‘Go call to me my seven sisters,
To sew to me my caul;
Every needle-steik that they put in
Put by a silver bell.’
21
The first Scots kirk that they came to,
They heard the mavis sing;
The next Scots kirk that they came to,
They heard the dead-bell ring.
22
The next Scots kirk that they came to,
They were playing at the foot-ball,
And her true-love was them among,
The chieftian amangst them all.
23
‘Set down, set down these corps,’ said he,
‘Let me look them upon;’
As soon as he lookd the lady on,
The blood sprang in her chin.
24
‘One bite of your bread, my love,
And one glass of your wine!
For I have fasted these five long days,
All for your sake and mine.
25
‘Go hame, go hame, my seven brothers,
Go hame and blaw your horn,
And ye may tell thro southen land
How I playd you the scorn.’
26
‘Woe to you, my sister dear,
And ane ill death may you die!
For we left father and mother at hame
Breaking their heart for thee.’
The Ettrick Shepherd sent Scott the following stanzas to be inserted in the first edition at places indicated. Most of them are either absolutely base metal or very much worn by circulation. The clever contrivance for breathing (found also in G 39, H 19) and the bribing of the surgeon provoke scorn and resentment.
‘Gay Gos Hawk,’ “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 143, No 133 a, Abbotsford; in the handwriting of James Hogg.
After 12 of ed. 1802 (E 13):
He happit off the flowry birk,
Sat down on the yett-pin,
And sang sae sweet the notes o love
Till a’ was coush within.
After 15 (E 16):
‘O ye maun send your love a kiss,
For he has sent you three;
O ye maun send your love a kiss,
And ye maun send it wi me.’
‘He has the rings off my fingers,
The garland off my hair;
He has the heart out o my bouk,
What can I send him mair?’
After 22:
‘The third Scotts kirk that ye gang to
Ye’s gar them blaw the horn,
That a’ the lords o fair Scotland
May hear afore the morn.’
After 23:
She wyld a wright to bore her chest,
For caller air she’d need;
She brib’d her surgeon wi the goud
To say that she was dead.
After 25:
‘What ails, what ails my daughter dear
Her colour bides sae fine?’
The surgeon-lad reply’d again,
She’s nouther pin’d nor lien.
After 30:
The third Scotts kirk that they cam to,
Sae loud they blew the horn,
An a’ the lads on yon water
Was warnd afore the morn.
After 31:
‘Set down, set down the bier,’ he said,
‘These comely corps I’ll see;’
‘Away, away,’ her brothers said,
‘For nae sick thing shall be.
‘Her een are sunk, her lips are cold,
Her rosy colour gane;
‘T is nine lang nights an nine lang days
Sin she deceasd at hame.’
‘Wer’t nine times nine an nine times nine,
My true-love’s face I’ll see;
Set down the bier, or here I swear
My prisners you shall be.’
He drew the nails frae the coffin,
An liftit up the cone,
An for a’ sae lang as she’d been dead
She smil’d her love upon.
After 35:
‘And tell my father he sent me
To rot in Scotland’s clay;
But he sent me to my Willie,
To be his lady gay.’