HYNDE ETIN.
BALLAD OF THE WOODS.
May Margaret stood in her bouir door
Kaming her yellow hair;
She heard a note in Elmond wood,
And she wished that she was there.
Sae she has kiltit her petticoats,
A little abune her knee;
And she’s awa to Elmond’s wood
As fast as she can gae.
She hadna poued a nut, a nut,
Nor broke a branch but ane
When by and came a young hind chiel,
Says, “Lady! let alane.
“O why pou ye the nut, the nut,
Or why break ye the tree?
I’m forester ower a’ this wood,
Ye sould speir leave at me.”
But aye she poued the other berry,
Nae thinking o’ the skaith;
And says, “To wrong ye, Hynde Etin,
I wad be unco laith.”
But he has taen her by the yellow locks,
And tied her till a tree,
And said, “For slichting my commands,
An ill death ye sall die!”
He pou’d a tree out o’ the wood,
The biggest that was there;
And he howkit a cave many fathoms deep,
And put May Margaret there.
“Now rest ye there, ye saucy May,
My woods are free for thee;
And gif I take ye to my cell,
The better ye’ll like me.”
Nae rest, nae rest May Margaret took;
Sleep she gat never nane;
Her back lay on the cauld, cauld floor,
Her head upon the stane.
“O tak me out,” May Margaret cried,
“O tak me hame to thee;
And I sall be your bounden page,
Until the day I dee.”
He took her out the dungeon deep,
And awa wi’ him she’s gane;
But sad was the day when a king’s daughter
Gaed hame wi’ Hynde Etin.
O they hae lived in Elmond wood
For six lang years and one;
Till six pretty sons to him she bore,
And the seventh she’s brought home.
These seven bairns, sae fair and fine,
That she to him did bring;
They never were in good church door,
Nor ever gat good kirking.
And aye at nicht, wi’ harp in hand,
As they lay still asleep,
She sat hersell by their bedside,
And bitterly did weep.
Singing, “Ten lang years now have I lived
Within this cave of stane,
And never was at good kirk-door,
Nor heard the kirk-bell ring.”
But it fell once upon a day,
Hynde Etin went from home;
And for to carry his game to him,
Has taen his oldest son.
And as they through the good greenwood,
Wi’ slowsome pace did gae,
The bonnie boy’s heart grew grit and sair,
And thus he goud to say:
“A question I would ask, father,
An ye wadna angry be;”
“Say on, say on, my bonnie boy;
Ask onything at me.”
“My mither’s cheeks are often wet;
I seldom see them dry;
And I wonder aye what aileth my mither
To mourn continually?”
“Nae wonder that your mither’s cheeks
Ye seldom see them dry;
Nae wonder, nae wonder, my bonnie boy,
Though she suld brast and die!
“For she was born a king’s daughter,
Of noble birth and fame,
And now she is Hynde Etin’s wife,
Wha ne’er got Christendome.
“But we’ll shoot the laverock in the lift,
The buntlin on the tree;
And ye’ll take theme hame to your mither,
An’ see if blythe she’ll be.”
It fell upon another day,
Hynde Etin he thocht lang;
And he is to the gude greenwood,
As fast as he can gang.
Wi’ bow and arrow by his side,
He’s off, single, alane,
And left his seven bairns to stay
Wi’ their mither at home.
“I’ll tell you, mither,” quoth the auldest son,
“An’ ye wadna angry be;”
“Speak on, speak on, my bonnie boy,
Ye’se nay be quarrelled by me.”
“As we came from the hynd-hunting,
We heard fine music ring!”
“My blessings on ye, my bonnie boy!
I wish I’d been there, my lane!”
He’s ta’en his mither by the hand—
His six brothers also;
And they are on through Elmond wood
As fast as they could go.
They wistna weel where they were gaun,
Wi’ the stratlings o’ their feet;
They wistna weel where they were gaun,
Till at her father’s yett.
“I hae nae money in my pocket,
But royal rings hae three;
I’ll gie them you, my auldest son,
And ye’ll walk there for me:
“Ye’ll gie the first to the proud porter,
And he will let you in;
Ye’ll gie the next the butler boy,
And he will show you ben:
“Ye’ll gie the next to the ministrell
That plays before the king;
He’ll play success to the bonnie boy,
Cam through the wood his lane.”
He gae the first the proud porter,
And he opened and let him in.
He gae the next to the butler-boy,
And he has shown him ben.
He gae the third to the ministrell
That play’d before the king;
And he play’d success to the bonnie boy
Cam through the wood his lane.
Now when he came before the king,
He fell low on his knee;
The king he turn’d him round about,
And the saut tear blint his e’e.
“Win up, win up, my bonnie boy!
Gang frae my companie!
Ye look sae like my dear dauchter,
My heart will burst in three.”
“If I look like your dear dauchter,
A wonder it is none:
If I look like your dear dauchter,
I am her eldest son.”
“Will ye tell me, my little wee boy,
Where may my Margaret be?”
“She’s gist now standing at your yetts,
And my six brothers her wi’.”
“O where are a’ my porter boys,
That I pay meat and fee,
To open my yetts, baith wide and braid—
Let her come in to me!”
When she came in before the king,
She fell low on her knee;
“Win up, win up, my dauchter dear,
This day ye’ll dine wi’ me.”
“Ae bit I canna eat, father,
Nor ae drap can I drink,
Till I see my mither and sister dear,
For lang o’ them I think.”
When she came in before the queen,
She fell low on her knee:
“Win up, win up, my dauchter dear,
This day ye’se dine wi’ me.”
“Ae bit I canna eat, mither,
Nor ae drop can I drink,
Until I see my dear sister—
For lang o’ her I think.”
And when her sister dear cam in,
She hailed her courteouslie:
“Come ben, come ben, my sister dear,
This day ye’se dine wi’ me.”
“Ae bit I canna eat, sister,
Nor ae drop can I drink,
Until I see my dear husband,
For lang o’ him I think.”
“O where are all my rangers bold,
That I pay meat and fee,
To search the forest far and wide,
And bring Etin to me?”
But out then spak the little wee boy,
“Na, na, this maunna be;
Without ye grant a free pardon,
I hope ye’ll nae him see.”
“O here I grant a free pardon,
Weel sealed by my own hand,
And see make search for Hynde Etin,
As sure as e’er ye can.”
They searched the country wide and braid—
The forests far and near,
Till they found him into Elmond wood,
Tearing his yellow hair.
“Win up, win up, now, Hynde Etin—
Win up and boune wi’ me;
We’re messengers sent frae the court—
The king wants ye to see.”
“O let him tak frae me the head,
Or hang me on a tree;
For sin I’se lost my dear Margaret,
Life’s nae pleasure to me.”
“Your head will nae be touched, Etin,
Nor hanged upon a tree;
Your leddy’s in her father’s court,
And all she wants is thee.”
When in he came before the king,
He fell low on his knee;
“Win up, win up, now, Hynde Etin,
This day ye’se dine wi’ me.”
But as they were at dinner set,
The boy asked a boon:
“I wis we were in the good kirk,
For to get Christendoun.
“We hae liv’d in gude greenwood
This seven years and ane;
But a’ this time, sin e’er I mind,
Were ne’er a church within.”
“Your asking’s nae sae great, my boy,
But granted it sall be;
This day to gude church ye sall gang,
And your mither sall gang ye wi’.”
When unto the gude church she cam,
She at the door did stan’;
She was sae sair sunk down wi’ shame,
She waldna come far’r ben,
Then out it speaks the parish priest—
A good auld man was he:
“Come ben, come ben, my lily flouir,
Present your babes to me.”
But they staid lang in royal court,
Wi’ mirth and high renown;
And when her father was deceased,
She was heir o’ his crown.
Anonymous.