Fair Helen of Kirkconnell
Very simple, very touching, is the story of fair Helen of Kirkconnell. This beautiful maiden had two lovers, one rich, one poor. Her friends favoured the rich one, she loved the poor one. She and her chosen lover used to meet secretly in the romantic churchyard of Kirkconnell, by the side of the river Kirtle. Learning this, the rejected lover crept up one evening, with his carbine, to shoot his luckier rival; Helen saw him at the moment of firing, and threw herself forward to receive the shot in her bosom, and so save her lover's life at the cost of her own.
The ballad describing the grief of her lover is one of the most beautiful and touching pieces of poetry in existence, and must be given here entire.
FAIR HELEN
I wish I were where Helen lies;
Night and day on me she cries;
O that I were where Helen lies,
On fair Kirkconnell Lee!
Curst be the heart that thought the thought,
And curst the hand that shot the shot,
When in my arms burd Helen dropt,
And died to succour me.
O think ye not my heart was sair,
When my love dropt and spak nae mair!
There did she swoon wi' meikle care,
On fair Kirkconnell Lee.
As I went down the water-side,
None but my foe to be my guide,
None but my foe to be my guide,
On fair Kirkconnell Lee!
I lighted down my sword to draw,
I hacked him in pieces sma',
I hacked him in pieces sma',
For her sake that died for me.
O Helen fair beyond compare,
I'll make a garland of thy hair,
Shall bind my heart for evermair,
Until the day I die.
O that I were where Helen lies,
Night and day on me she cries;
Out of my bed she bids me rise,
Says, "Haste and come to me!"
O Helen fair! O Helen chaste!
If I were with thee, I were blest,
Where thou lies low, and takes thy rest,
On fair Kirkconnell Lee.
O that my grave were growing green,
A winding sheet drawn ower my een,
And I in Helen's arms were lying,
On fair Kirkconnell Lee!
I wish I were where Helen lies!
Night and day on me she cries,
And I am weary of the skies,
For her sake that died for me.
Chapter XVI
Johnie of Breadislee
Johnie of Breadislee, outlaw and deer-stealer, was one of the "broken men," as they were called, the Ishmaels of the Border. Johnie rose up one May morning, and called for water to wash his hands. He ordered to be unleashed his good grey dogs, that were bound with iron chains. When his mother heard that he had called for the dogs, she wrung her hands. "O Johnie!" she cried, "for my blessing, do not go to the greenwood to-day. Ye have enough of good wheat bread, enough blood-red wine, therefore, Johnie, I pray, stir not from home for any venison." But despite his mother's tears, Johnie busked up his good bent bow, and his arrows, and went off to Durrisdeer to hunt down the dun deer. As he came by Merriemass he espied a deer lying beneath a bush of furze. Johnie let fly an arrow, and the deer leapt as the pitiless shaft found its mark, and between the water and the brae his good hounds "laid her pride." So Johnie cut up the venison, giving the liver and lungs to his faithful hounds, as if they had been earl's sons. With such zest did they eat and drink that Johnie and the dogs fell asleep, as if they had been dead. Then as they lay, there came by a silly old man, and, as soon as he saw the poachers, he ran away to Hislinton, where the Seven Foresters were. "What news?" they asked. "What news bring ye, ye grey-headed carle?" "I bring no news," said the grey-headed carle, "save what my eyes did see. As I came down by Merrimass among the stunted trees, the bonniest child I ever saw lay asleep among his dogs. The shirt upon his back was of fine Holland, his doubtlet, over that, was of Lincoln twine, his buttons were of the good gold, the mouths of his good grey hounds were dyed with blood."
Now Johnie, like many another free-hearted outlaw, was a well-liked man. So the chief forester said, "If this be Johnie of Breadislee we will draw no nearer." But this was not the spirit of his men. Quoth the sixth Forester, "If it indeed be he, rather let us slay him." Cautiously they went through the thicket, and when they saw their man, asleep and helpless, they shot a flight of arrows. Johnie sprang up, sore wounded on the knee. The seventh forester cried out, "The next flight will kill him," but little chance did the outlaw give them for such an easy victory. He set his back against an oak and propped his wounded leg upon a stone; with bow or with sword he was a better man by far than any of his foes.
In the short, sharp fight that followed, he killed six of the foresters, some with arrow, and some with steel; and when the seventh turned to flee, Johnie seized him from behind and threw him on to the ground with a force that broke three of his ribs. Then he laid him on his steed, and bade him carry the tidings home.