Transcriber's Notes
Archaic, dialect and inconsistent spellings have been retained as in the original. Other than minor changes to format or punctuation, any changes to the text have been listed at [the end of the book].
ENGLISH AND SCOTTISH BALLADS.
EDITED BY
FRANCIS JAMES CHILD.
VOLUME III.
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.
CONTENTS OF VOLUME THIRD.
BOOK III.
CONTINUED.
EARL RICHARD.
A fragment of this gloomy and impressive romance, (corresponding to v. 21-42,) was published in Herd's Scottish Songs, i. 184, from which, probably, it was copied into Pinkerton's Scottish Tragic Ballads, p. 84. The entire ballad was first printed in The Border Minstrelsy, together with another piece, Lord William, containing a part of the same incidents. Of the five versions which have appeared, four are given in this place, and [the remaining one in the Appendix]. In the Gentleman's Magazine, 1794, Vol. 64, Part I. p. 553, there is a modern ballad of extremely perverted orthography and vicious style, (meant for ancient,) in which the twenty lines of Herd's fragment are interwoven with an altogether different story. It is printed as authentic in Scarce "Ancient" Ballads, Aberdeen, 1822.
"There are two ballads in Mr. Herd's MSS. upon the following story, in one of which the unfortunate knight is termed Young Huntin'. [[See Appendix].] The best verses are selected from both copies, and some trivial alterations have been adopted from tradition." Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, iii. 184.
"O Lady, rock never your young son, young,
One hour langer for me;
For I have a sweetheart in Garlioch Wells,
I love far better than thee.
"The very sole o' that lady's foot5
Than thy face is far mair white:"
"But, nevertheless, now, Erl Richard,
Ye will bide in my bower a' night?"
She birled him with the ale and wine,
As they sat down to sup:10
A living man he laid him down,
But I wot he ne'er rose up.
Then up and spake the popinjay,
That flew aboun her head;
"Lady! keep weel your green cleiding15
Frae gude Erl Richard's bleid."—
"O better I'll keep my green cleiding
Frae gude Erl Richard's bleid,
Than thou canst keep thy clattering toung,
That trattles in thy head."20
She has call'd upon her bower maidens,
She has call'd them ane by ane;
"There lies a dead man in my bour:
I wish that he were gane!"
They hae booted him, and spurred him,25
As he was wont to ride;—
A hunting-horn tied round his waist,
A sharpe sword by his side;
And they hae had him to the wan water,
For a' men call it [Clyde].30
Then up and spoke the popinjay
That sat upon the tree—
"What hae ye done wi' Erl Richard?
Ye were his gay ladye."—
"Come down, come down, my bonny bird,35
And sit upon my hand;
And thou sall hae a cage o' gowd,
Where thou hast but the wand."—
"Awa! awa! ye ill woman!
Nae cage o' gowd for me;40
As ye hae done to Erl Richard,
Sae wad ye do to me."
She hadna cross'd a rigg o' land,
A rigg but barely ane,
When she met wi' his auld father,45
Came riding all alane.
"Where hae ye been, now, ladye fair,
Where hae ye been sae late?
We hae been seeking Erl Richard,
"Erl Richard kens a' the fords in Clyde,
He'll ride them ane by ane;
And though the night was ne'er sae mirk,
Erl Richard will be hame."
O it fell anes, upon a day,55
The King was boun to ride;
And he has mist him, Erl Richard,
Should hae ridden on his right side.
The ladye turn'd her round about,
Wi' mickle mournfu' din—60
"It fears me sair o' Clyde water,
That he is drown'd therein."—
"Gar douk, gar douk," the King he cried,
"Gar douk for gold and fee;
O wha will douk for Erl Richard's sake,65
Or wha will douk for me?"
They douked in at ae weil-heid,
And out aye at the other;
"We can douk nae mair for Erl Richard,
Although he were our brother."70
It fell that, in that ladye's castle,
The King was boun to bed;
And up and spake the popinjay,
That flew abune his head.
"Leave aff your douking on the day,75
And douk upon the night;
And where that sackless knight lies slain,
The candles will burn bright."—
"O there's a bird within this bower,
That sings baith sad and sweet;80
O there's a bird within your bower,
Keeps me frae my night's sleep."
They left the douking on the day,
And douk'd upon the night;
And where that sackless knight lay slain,85
[The candles burned bright].
[The deepest pot in a' the linn],
They fand Erl Richard in;
A green turf tyed across his breast,
To keep that gude lord down.90
Then up and spake the King himsell,
When he saw the deadly wound—
"O wha has slain my right-hand man,
That held my hawk and hound?"—
Then up and spake the popinjay,95
Says—"What needs a' this din?
It was his light leman took his life,
And hided him in the linn."
She swore her by the grass sae grene,
Sae did she by the corn,100
She hadna seen him, Erl Richard,
Since Moninday at morn.
"Put na the wite on me," she said,
"It was my may Catherine:"
Then they hae cut baith fern and thorn,105
To burn that maiden in.
It wadna take upon her cheik,
Nor yet upon her chin;
Nor yet upon her yellow hair,
The maiden touch'd the clay-cauld corpse,
A drap it never bled;
The ladye laid her hand on him,
And soon the ground was red.
Out they hae ta'en her, may Catherine,115
And put her mistress in;
The flame tuik fast upon her cheik,
Tuik fast upon her chin;
Tuik fast upon her faire body—
[She burn'd like hollin-green].120
[30]. Clyde, in Celtic, means white.—Lockhart.
[86]. These are unquestionably the corpse-lights, called in Wales Canhwyllan Cyrph, which are sometimes seen to illuminate the spot where a dead body is concealed. The Editor is informed, that, some years ago, the corpse of a man, drowned in the Ettrick, below Selkirk, was discovered by means of these candles. Such lights are common in churchyards, and are probably of a phosphoric nature. But rustic superstition derives them from supernatural agency, and supposes, that, as soon as life has departed, a pale flame appears at the window of the house, in which the person had died, and glides towards the churchyard, tracing through every winding the route of the future funeral, and pausing where the bier is to rest. This and other opinions, relating to the "tomb-fires' livid gleam," seem to be of Runic extraction. Scott.
[87]. The deep holes, scooped in the rock by the eddies of a river, are called pots; the motion of the water having there some resemblance to a boiling caldron. Linn, means the pool beneath a cataract. Scott.
[120]. The lines immediately preceding, "The maiden touched," &c., and which are restored from tradition, refer to a superstition formerly received in most parts of Europe, and even resorted to by judicial authority, for the discovery of murder. In Germany, this experiment was called bahrrecht, or the law of the bier; because, the murdered body being stretched upon a bier, the suspected person was obliged to put one hand upon the wound and the other upon the mouth of the deceased, and, in that posture, call upon heaven to attest his innocence. If, during this ceremony, the blood gushed from the mouth, nose, or wound, a circumstance not unlikely to happen in the course of shifting or stirring the body, it was held sufficient evidence of the guilt of the party. Scott.
EARL RICHARD.
Obtained from recitation by Motherwell, and printed in his Minstrelsy, p. 218.
Earl Richard is a hunting gone,
As fast as he could ride;
His hunting-horn hung about his neck,
And a small sword by his side.
When he came to my lady's gate,5
He tirled at the pin;
And wha was sae ready as the lady hersell
To open and let him in?
"O light, O light, Earl Richard," she says,
"O light and stay a' night;10
You shall have cheer wi' charcoal clear,
And candles burning bright."
"I will not light, I cannot light,
I cannot light at all;
A fairer lady than ten of thee15
Is waiting at Richard's-wall."
He stooped from his milk-white steed,
To kiss her rosy cheek;
She had a penknife in her hand,
And wounded him so deep.20
"O lie ye there, Earl Richard," she says,
"O lie ye there till morn;
A fairer lady than ten of me
Will think lang of your coming home."
She called her servants ane by ane,25
She called them twa by twa:
"I have got a dead man in my bower,
I wish he were awa."
The ane has ta'en him by the hand,
And the other by the feet;30
And they've thrown him in a deep draw well,
Full fifty fathoms deep.
Then up bespake a little bird,
That sat upon a tree:
"Gae hame, gae hame, ye fause lady,35
And pay your maids their fee."
"Come down, come down, my pretty bird,
That sits upon the tree;
I have a cage of beaten gold,
I'll gie it unto thee."40
"Gae hame, gae hame, ye fause lady,
And pay your maids their fee;
As ye have done to Earl Richard,
Sae wud ye do to me."
"If I had an arrow in my hand,45
And a bow bent on a string;
I'd shoot a dart at thy proud heart,
Among the leaves sae green."
YOUNG REDIN.
"From the recitation of Miss E. Beattie, of Edinburgh, a native of Mearnsshire, who sings it to a plaintive, though somewhat monotonous air of one measure."—Kinloch, Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 1.
Young Redin's til the huntin gane,
Wi' therty lords and three;
And he has til his true-love gane,
As fast as he could hie.
"Ye're welcome here, my young Redin,5
For coal and candle licht;
And sae are ye, my young Redin,
To bide wi' me the nicht."
"I thank ye for your licht, ladie,
Sae do I for your coal;10
But there's thrice as fair a ladie as thee
Meets me at Brandie's well."
Whan they were at their supper set,
And merrily drinking wine,
This ladie has tane a sair sickness,15
And til her bed has gane.
Young Redin he has followed her,
And a dowie man was he;
He fund his true-love in her bouer,
And the tear was in her ee.20
Whan he was in her arms laid,
And gieing her kisses sweet,
Then out she's tane a little penknife,
And wounded him sae deep.
"O lang, lang, is the winter nicht,25
And slawly daws the day;
There is a slain knicht in my bouer,
And I wish he war away."
Then up bespak her bouer-woman,
And she spak ae wi' spite:—30
"An there be a slain knicht in your bouer,
It's yoursel that has the wyte."
"O heal this deed on me, Meggy,
O heal this deed on me;
The silks that war shapen for me gen Pasche,
They sall be sewed for thee."35
"O I hae heal'd on my mistress
A twalmonth and a day,
And I hae heal'd on my mistress,
Mair than I can say."40
They've booted him, and they've spurred him,
As he was wont to ride:—
A huntin horn round his neck,
And a sharp sword by his side;
In the deepest place o' Clyde's water,45
It's there they've made his bed.
Sine up bespak the wylie parrot,
As he sat on the tree,—
"And hae ye kill'd him young Redin,
Wha ne'er had love but thee!"50
"Come doun, come doun, ye wylie parrot,
Come doun into my hand;
Your cage sall be o' the beaten gowd,
When now it's but the wand."
"I winna come doun, I canna come doun,55
I winna come doun to thee;
For as ye've dune to young Redin,
Ye'll do the like to me;
Ye'll thraw my head aff my hause-bane,
O there cam seekin young Redin,
Monie a lord and knicht;
And there cam seekin young Redin,
Monie a ladie bricht.
And they hae til his true-love gane,65
Thinking he was wi' her;
* * * * * * *
* * * * * * *
"I hae na seen him, young Redin,
Sin yesterday at noon;70
He turn'd his stately steed about,
And hied him through the toun.
"But ye'll seek Clyde's water up and doun,
Ye'll seek it out and in—
I hae na seen him, young Redin,75
Sin yesterday at noon."
Then up bespak young Redin's mither,
And a dowie woman was scho;—
"There's na a place in a Clyde's water,
But my son wad gae through."80
They've sought Clyde's water up and doun,
They've sought it out and in,
And the deepest place o' Clyde's water
They fund young Redin in.
O white, white, war his wounds washen,85
As white as a linen clout;
But as the traitor she cam near,
His wounds they gushed out!
"It's surely been my bouer-woman,
O ill may her betide;90
I ne'er wad slain him young Redin,
And thrown him in the Clyde."
Then they've made a big bane-fire,
The bouer-woman to brin;
It tuke na on her cheek, her cheek,95
It tuke na on her chin,
But it tuke on the cruel hands
That put young Redin in.
Then they're tane out the bouer-woman,
And put the ladie in:100
It tuke na on her cheek, her cheek,
It tuke na on her chin,
But it tuke on the fause, fause arms,
That young Redin lay in.
LORD WILLIAM.
Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, iii. 23.
This ballad was communicated to Sir Walter Scott by Mr. James Hogg, accompanied with the following note:—
"I am fully convinced of the antiquity of this song; for, although much of the language seems somewhat modernized, this must be attributed to its currency, being much liked, and very much sung in this neighbourhood. I can trace it back several generations, but cannot hear of its ever having been in print. I have never heard it with any considerable variation, save that one reciter called the dwelling of the feigned sweet-heart, Castleswa."
Lord William was the bravest knight
That dwalt in fair Scotland,
And though renown'd in France and Spain,
Fell by a ladie's hand.
As she was walking maid alone,5
Down by yon shady wood,
She heard a smit o' bridle reins,
She wish'd might be for good.
"Come to my arms, my dear Willie,
You're welcome hame to me;10
To best o' cheer and [charcoal red],
And candle burning free."—
"I winna light, I darena light,
Nor come to your arms at a';
A fairer maid than ten o' you15
I'll meet at Castle-law."—
"A fairer maid than me, Willie!
A fairer maid than me!
A fairer maid than ten o' me
Your eyes did never see."—20
He louted ower his saddle lap,
To kiss her ere they part,
And wi' a little keen bodkin,
She pierced him to the heart.
"Ride on, ride on, Lord William now,25
As fast as ye can dree!
Your bonny lass at Castle-law
Will weary you to see."
Out up then spake a bonny bird,
Sat high upon a tree,—30
"How could you kill that noble lord?
He came to marry thee."—
"Come down, come down, my bonny bird,
And eat bread aff my hand!
Your cage shall be of wiry goud,35
Whar now it's but the wand."—
"Keep ye your cage o' goud, lady,
And I will keep my tree;
As ye hae done to Lord William,
Sae wad ye do to me."—40
She set her foot on her door step,
A bonny marble stane,
And carried him to her chamber,
O'er him to make her mane.
And she has kept that good lord's corpse45
Three quarters of a year,
Until that word began to spread;
Then she began to fear.
Then she cried on her waiting maid,
Aye ready at her ca';50
"There is a knight into my bower,
'Tis time he were awa."
The ane has ta'en him by the head,
The ither by the feet,
And thrown him in the wan water,55
That ran baith wide and deep.
"Look back, look back, now, lady fair,
On him that lo'ed ye weel!
A better man than that blue corpse
Ne'er drew a sword of steel."—60
[11]. Charcoal red. This circumstance marks the antiquity of the poem. While wood was plenty in Scotland, charcoal was the usual fuel in the chambers of the wealthy. Scott.
PRINCE ROBERT
Was first published in the Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, iii. 269, and was obtained from the recitation of Miss Christian Rutherford. Another copy, also from recitation, is [subjoined].
Prince Robert has wedded a gay ladye,
He has wedded her with a ring:
Prince Robert has wedded a gay ladye,
But he darna bring her hame.
"Your blessing, your blessing, my mother dear!5
Your blessing now grant to me!"—
"Instead of a blessing ye sall have my curse,
And you'll get nae blessing frae me."—
She has call'd upon her waiting-maid,
To fill a glass of wine;10
She has call'd upon her fause steward,
To put rank poison in.
She has put it to her roudes lip,
And to her roudes chin;
She has put it to her fause, fause mouth,15
But the never a drap gaed in.
He has put it to his bonny mouth,
And to his bonny chin,
He's put it to his cherry lip,
And sae fast the rank poison ran in.20
"O ye hae poison'd your ae son, mother,
Your ae son and your heir;
O ye hae poison'd your ae son, mother,
And sons you'll never hae mair.
"O where will I get a little boy,25
That will win hose and shoon,
To rin sae fast to Darlinton,
And bid fair Eleanor come?"—
Then up and spake a little boy,
That wad win hose and shoon,—30
"O I'll away to Darlinton,
And bid fair Eleanor come."—
O he has run to Darlinton,
And tirled at the pin;
And wha was sae ready as Eleanor's sell35
To let the bonny boy in.
"Your gude-mother has made ye a rare dinour,
She's made it baith gude and fine;
Your gude-mother has made ye a gay dinour,
And ye maun cum till her and dine."—40
It's twenty lang miles to Sillertoun town,
The langest that ever were gane:
But the steed it was wight, and the ladye was light,
And she cam linkin' in.
But when she came to Sillertoun town,45
And into Sillertoun ha',
The torches were burning, the ladies were mourning,
And they were weeping a'.
"O where is now my wedded lord,
And where now can he be?50
O where is now my wedded lord?
For him I canna see."—
"Your wedded lord is dead," she says,
"And just gane to be laid in the clay:
Your wedded lord is dead," she says,55
"And just gane to be buried the day.
"Ye'se get nane o' his gowd, ye'se get nane o' his gear,
Ye'se get nae thing frae me;
Ye'se no get an inch o' his gude braid land,
Though your heart suld burst in three."—60
"I want nane o' his gowd, I want nane o' his gear,
I want nae land frae thee:
But I'll hae the rings that's on his finger,
For them he did promise to me."—
"Ye'se no get the rings that's on his finger,65
Ye'se no get them frae me;
Ye'se no get the rings that's on his finger,
An your heart suld burst in three."—
She's turn'd her back unto the wa',
And her face unto a rock;70
And there, before the mother's face,
Her very heart it broke.
The tane was buried in Marie's kirk,
The tother in Marie's quair;
And out o' the tane there sprang a birk,75
And out o' the tother a brier.
And thae twa met, and thae twa plat,
The birk but and the brier;
And by that ye may very weel ken
They were twa lovers dear.80
EARL ROBERT.
"Given," says Motherwell, "from the recitation of an old woman, a native of Bonhill, in Dumbartonshire; and it is one of the earliest songs she remembers of having heard chanted on the classic banks of the Water of Leaven."—Minstrelsy, p. 200.
Another copy is noted by the same editor as containing the following stanzas:—
Lord Robert and Mary Florence,
They wer twa children ying;
They were scarce seven years of age
Till luve began to spring.
Lord Robert loved Mary Florence,
And she lov'd him above power;
But he durst not for his cruel mither
Bring her intill his bower.
It's fifty miles to Sittingen's rocks,
As ever was ridden or gane;
And Earl Robert has wedded a wife,
But he dare na bring her hame.
And Earl Robert has wedded a wife,
His mother, she call'd to her waiting-maid:
"O bring me a pint of wine,
For I dinna weel ken what hour of this day
That my son Earl Robert shall dine."
She's put it to her fause, fause cheek,
But an' her fause, fause chin;10
She's put it to her fause, fause lips;
But never a drap went in.
But he's put it to his bonny cheek,
Aye and his bonny chin;
He's put it to his red rosy lips,15
And the poison went merrily down.
"O where will I get a bonny boy,
That will win hose and shoon,—
That will gang quickly to Sittingen's rocks,
And bid my lady come?"20
It's out then speaks a bonny boy,
To Earl Robert was something akin:
"Many a time have I run thy errand,
But this day with the tears I'll rin."
O when he cam to Sittingen's rocks,25
To the middle of a' the ha',
There were bells a ringing, and music playing,
And ladies dancing a'.
"What news, what news, my bonny boy,
What news have ye to me?30
Is Earl Robert in very good health,
And the ladies of your countrie?"
"O Earl Robert's in very good health,
And as weel as a man can be;
But his mother this night has a drink to be druken,35
And at it you must be."
She called to her waiting-maid,
To bring her a riding weed;
And she called to her stable groom,
To saddle her milk-white steed.40
But when she came to Earl Robert's bouir,
To the middle of a' the ha',
There were bells a ringing and sheets down hinging,
And ladies murning a'.
"I've come for none of his gold," she said,45
"Nor none of his white monie;
Excepting a ring of his smallest finger,
If that you will grant me."
"Thou'll no get none of his gold," she said.
"Nor none of his white monie;50
Thou'll no get a ring of his smallest finger,
Tho' thy heart should break in three."
She set her foot unto a stone,
Her back unto a tree;
She set her foot unto a stone,55
And her heart did break in three!
The one was buried in Mary's kirk,
The other in Mary's quier;
Out of the one there grew a bush,
From the other a bonnie brier.60
And thir twa grew, and thir twa threw,
Till thir twa craps drew near;
So all the world may plainly see
That they lov'd each other dear.
THE WEARY COBLE O' CARGILL.
From Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 230.
"This local ballad, which commemorates some real event, is given from the recitation of an old woman, residing in the neighbourhood of Cambus Michael, Perthshire. It possesses the elements of good poetry, and, had it fallen into the hands of those who make no scruple of interpolating and corrupting the text of oral song, it might have been made, with little trouble, a very interesting and pathetic composition.
"Kercock and Balathy are two small villages on the banks of the Tay; the latter is nearly opposite Stobhall. According to tradition, the ill-fated hero of the ballad had a leman in each of these places; and it was on the occasion of his paying a visit to his Kercock love, that the jealous dame in Balathy Toun, from a revengeful feeling, scuttled the boat in which he was to recross the Tay to Stobhall." Motherwell.
David Drummond's destinie,
Gude man o' appearance o' Cargill;
I wat his blude rins in the flude,
Sae sair against his parents' will.
She was the lass o' Balathy toun,5
And he the butler o' Stobhall;
And mony a time she wauked late,
To bore the coble o' Cargill.
His bed was made in Kercock ha',
Of gude clean sheets and of the hay;10
He wudna rest ae nicht therein,
But on the prude waters he wud gae.
His bed was made in Balathy toun,
Of the clean sheets and of the strae;
But I wat it was far better made,15
Into the bottom o' bonnie Tay.
She bored the coble in seven pairts,
I wat her heart might hae been sae sair;
For there she got the bonnie lad lost,
Wi' the curly locks and the yellow hair.20
He put his foot into the boat,
He little thocht o' ony ill:
But before that he was mid waters,
The weary coble began to fill.
"Woe be to the lass o' Balathy toun,25
I wat an ill death may she die;
For she bored the coble in seven pairts,
And let the waters perish me!
"O help, O help I can get nane,
Nae help o' man can to me come!"30
This was about his dying words,
When he was choaked up to the chin.
"Gae tell my father and my mother,
It was naebody did me this ill;
I was a-going my ain errands,35
Lost at the coble o' bonnie Cargill."
She bored the boat in seven pairts,
I wat she bored it wi' gude will;
And there they got the bonnie lad's corpse,
In the kirk-shot o' bonnie Cargill.40
O a' the keys o' bonnie Stobha',
I wat they at his belt did hing;
But a' the keys of bonnie Stobha',
They now ly low into the stream.
A braver page into his age45
Ne'er set a foot upon the plain;
His father to his mother said,
"O sae sune as we've wanted him!
"I wat they had mair luve than this,
When they were young and at the scule;50
But for his sake she wauked late,
And bored the coble o' bonnie Cargill.
"There's ne'er a clean sark gae on my back,
Nor yet a kame gae in my hair;
There's neither coal nor candle licht55
Shall shine in my bouer for ever mair.
"At kirk nor market I'se ne'er be at,
Nor yet a blythe blink in my ee;
There's ne'er a ane shall say to anither,
That's the lassie gar'd the young man die."60
Between the yetts o' bonnie Stobha',
And the kirkstyle o' bonnie Cargill,
There is mony a man and mother's son
That was at my luve's burial.
OLD ROBIN OF PORTINGALE.
Percy's Reliques of English Poetry, iii. 88.
"From an ancient copy in the Editor's folio MS., which was judged to require considerable corrections.
"In the former edition the hero of this piece had been called Sir Robin, but that title not being in the MS. is now omitted.
"Giles, steward to a rich old merchant trading to Portugal, is qualified with the title of Sir, not as being a knight, but rather, I conceive, as having received an inferior order of priesthood." Percy.
Let never again soe old a man
Marrye soe yonge a wife,
As did old Robin of Portingale;
Who may rue all the dayes of his life.
For the mayors daughter of Lin, God wott5
He chose her to his wife,
And thought with her to have lived in love,
But they fell to hate and strife.
They scarce were in their wed-bed laid,
And scarce was hee asleepe,10
But upp shee rose, and forth shee goes,
To the steward, and gan to weepe.
"Sleepe you, wake you, faire Sir Gyles?
Or be you not within?
Sleepe you, wake you, faire Sir Gyles,15
Arise and let me inn."
"O I am waking, sweete," he said,
"Sweete ladye, what is your will?"
"I have [onbethought] me of a wile
How my wed lord weel spill.20
"Twenty-four good knights," shee sayes,
"That dwell about this towne,
Even twenty-four of my next cozens
Will helpe to dinge him downe."
All that beheard his litle footepage,25
As he watered his masters steed;
And for his masters sad perille
His verry heart did bleed.
He mourned, sighed and wept full sore;
I sweare by the holy roode,30
The teares he for his master wept
Were [blent] water and bloude.
And that beheard his deare master
As he stood at his garden pale:
Sayes, "Ever alacke, my litle foot-page,35
What causes thee to wail?
"Hath any one done to thee wronge,
Any of thy fellowes here?
Or is any of thy good friends dead,
That thou shedst manye a teare?40
"Or, if it be my head bookes-man,
Aggrieved he shal bee:
For no man here within my howse
Shall doe wrong unto thee."
"O it is not your head bookes-man,45
Nor none of his degree:
But, [on to-morrow] ere it be noone
All deemed to die are yee:
"And of that bethank your head steward,
And thank your gay ladye."50
"If this be true, my litle foot-page,
The heyre of my land thoust bee:"
"If it be not true, my dear master,
No good death let me die:"
"If it be not true, thou litle foot-page,55
A dead corse shalt thou bee.
"O call now downe my faire ladye,
O call her downe to mee;
And tell my ladye gay how sicke,
And like to die I bee."60
Downe then came his ladye faire,
All clad in purple and pall:
The rings that were on her fingers,
Cast light thorrow the hall.
"What is your will, my own wed-lord?65
"What is your will with mee?"
"O see, my ladye deere, how sicke,
And like to die I bee."
"And thou be sicke, my own wed-lord,
Soe sore it grieveth me:70
But my five maydens and myselfe
Will make the bedde for thee.
"And at the waking of your first sleepe,
We will a hott drinke make;
And at the waking of your [next] sleepe,75
Your sorrowes we will slake."
He put a silk cote on his backe,
And mail of manye a fold;
And hee putt a steele cap on his head,
Was gilt with good red gold.80
He layd a bright browne sword by his side,
And another att his feete:
[And twentye good knights he placed at hand,
To watch him in his sleepe.]
And about the middle time of the night,85
Came twentye-four traitours inn;
Sir Giles he was the foremost man,
The leader of that ginn.
Old Robin with his bright browne sword,
Sir Gyles head soon did winn;90
And scant of all those twenty-four
Went out one quick agenn.
None save only a litle foot-page,
Crept forth at a window of stone;
And he had two armes when he came in,95
And he went back with one.
Upp then came that ladie gaye,
With torches burning bright;
She thought to have brought Sir Gyles a drinke,
Butt she found her owne wedd knight.100
The first thinge that she stumbled on
It was Sir Gyles his foote;
Sayes, "Ever alacke, and woe is mee!
Here lyes my sweete hart-roote."
The next thinge that she stumbled on105
It was Sir Gyles his heade;
Sayes, "Ever alacke, and woe is me!
Heere lyes my true love deade."
Hee cutt the pappes beside her brest,
And didd her body spille;110
He cutt the eares beside her heade,
And bade her love her fille.
He called up then up his litle foot-page,
And made him there his heyre;
And sayd, "Henceforth my worldlye goodes,115
And countrie I forsweare."
[He shope the crosse on his right shoulder],
Of the white [clothe] and the redde,
And went him into the holy land,
Wheras Christ was quicke and dead.120
[19], unbethought.
MS. [32], blend.
[47], or to-morrow.
MS. [75], first.
[117]. Every person who went on a Croisade to the Holy Land usually wore a cross on his upper garment, on the right shoulder, as a badge of his profession. Different nations were distinguished by crosses of different colors: the English wore white, the French red, &c. This circumstance seems to be confounded in the ballad. Percy.
MS. [118], fleshe.
FAUSE FOODRAGE.
First published in Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, iii. 220.
"This ballad has been popular in many parts of Scotland. It is chiefly given from Mrs. Brown of Falkland's MSS. The expression,
"The boy stared wild like a gray goss-hawk," v. 31,
strongly resembles that in Hardyknute,
"Norse e'en like gray goss-hawk stared wild;"
a circumstance which led the Editor to make the strictest inquiry into the authenticity of the song. But every doubt was removed by the evidence of a lady of high rank, who not only recollected the ballad, as having amused her infancy, but could repeat many of the verses, particularly those beautiful stanzas from the 20th to the 25th. The Editor is, therefore, compelled to believe, that the author of Hardyknute copied the old ballad, if the coincidence be not altogether accidental." Scott.
King Easter has courted her for her lands,
King Wester for her fee,
King Honour for her comely face,
And for her fair bodie.
They had not been four months married,5
As I have heard them tell,
Until the nobles of the land
Against them did rebel.
And they cast kevils them amang,
And kevils them between;10
And they cast kevils them amang,
Wha suld gae kill the king.
O some said yea, and some said nay,
Their words did not agree;
Till up and got him, Fause Foodrage,15
And swore it suld be he.
When bells were rung, and mass was sung,
And a' men bound to bed,
King Honour and his gay ladye
In a high chamber were laid.20
Then up and raise him, Fause Foodrage,
When a' were fast asleep,
And slew the porter in his lodge,
That watch and ward did keep.
O four and twenty silver keys25
Hang hie upon a pin;
And aye as ae door he did unlock,
He has fasten'd it him behind.
Then up and raise him, King Honour,
Says—"What means a' this din?30
Or what's the matter, Fause Foodrage,
Or wha has loot you in?"—
"O ye my errand weel sall learn,
Before that I depart."—
Then drew a knife, baith lang and sharp,35
And pierced him to the heart.
Then up and got the Queen hersell,
And fell low down on her knee,
"O spare my life, now, Fause Foodrage!
For I never injured thee.40
"O spare my life, now, Fause Foodrage!
Until I lighter be!
And see gin it be lad or lass,
King Honour has left me wi'."—
"O gin it be a lass," he says,45
"Weel nursed it sall be;
But gin it be a lad bairn,
He sall be hanged hie.
"I winna spare for his tender age,
Nor yet for his hie, hie kin;50
But soon as e'er he born is,
He sall mount the gallows pin."
O four-and-twenty valiant knights
Were set the Queen to guard;
And four stood aye at her bour door,55
To keep both watch and ward.
But when the time drew near an end,
That she suld lighter be,
She cast about to find a wile,
To set her body free.60
O she has birled these merry young men
With the ale but and the wine,
Until they were a' deadly drunk
As any wild-wood swine.
"O narrow, narrow is this window,65
And big, big am I grown!"—
Yet through the might of Our Ladye,
Out at it she is gone.
She wander'd up, she wander'd down,
She wander'd out and in;70
And, at last, into the very swine's stythe,
The Queen brought forth a son.
Then they cast kevils them amang,
Which suld gae seek the Queen;
And the kevil fell upon Wise William,75
And he sent his wife for him.
O when she saw Wise William's wife,
The Queen fell on her knee:
"Win up, win up, madam!" she says:
"What needs this courtesie?"—80
"O out o' this I winna rise,
Till a boon ye grant to me;
To change your lass for this lad bairn,
King Honour left me wi'.
"And ye maun learn my gay goss-hawk85
Right weel to breast a steed;
And I sall learn your turtle dow
As weel to write and read.
"And ye maun learn my gay goss-hawk
To wield both bow and brand;90
And I sall learn your turtle dow
To lay gowd wi' her hand.
"At kirk and market when we meet,
We'll dare make nae avowe,
But—'Dame, how does my gay goss-hawk?'95
'Madame, how does my dow?'"
When days were gane, and years came on,
Wise William he thought lang;
And he has ta'en King Honour's son