MINSTRELSY: 
 
 ANCIENT AND MODERN, 
 
 WITH AN 
 
 HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION AND NOTES. 
 
 By WILLIAM MOTHERWELL. 
 
 'i 
 
 JOHN WYLIE:— GLASGOW. 
 
 MDCCCXXVII. 
 
t glaJv-jSiiuTa?^ 
 
 r1 ^ / 
 
 
 TO 
 
 CHARLES KIRKPATRICK SHARPE, ESQ. 
 
 THIS VOLUME IS, 
 
 WITH SINCERE RESPECT, INSCRIBED 
 
 \ 
 
 BY HIS FAITHFUL AND OBLIGED SERVANT, 
 
 W. MOTHERWELL. 
 
>'' or TUf 
 
 " \V£RS\TY 
 
 iro 
 
 B^i^ 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 As this compilation consists principally of Narrative Ballads, there occurring ' 
 in it no compositions strictly called Songs, in the sense to which that term 
 is now generally confined, except a few modern pieces, the slight observa- 
 tions with which it has been thought proper to introduce it, are to be 7 
 understood as referring exclusively to the Ancient Romantick and Historick 
 Ballad of Scotland.* ^ 
 
 Under the head of Romantick, a phrase we are obliged to employ 
 for lack of something more significant and precise, may be ranged a nu- 
 merous and highly interesting body of short metrical tales, chiefly of a 
 tragick complexion, which, though possessing all the features of real inci- 
 dent, and probably originating in fact, cannot now, after the lapse of many 
 ages, be, with certainty, traced to any historical source, publick or private. 
 With these may also be classed that description of Ancient Song 
 
 " " With us, songs of sentiment, expression, or even description, are properly termed 
 Songs in contradistinction to mere narrative compositions, which we now denominate Bal- 
 lads. A similar idea is adopted by the Spaniards : and in France, every division almost of 
 which the subject is capable, has an appellation peculiar to it." See Ritsons Historical 
 Essay on N'ational Song, prejtxed to'EtiOLisu Songs. The term Ballad was at one period 
 very indefinite ; numberless instances of its loose arid general application will readily 
 suggest themselves to the reader of early poetry. Some of these are pointed out in the 
 text and notes of the History of English poetry, vol. IV. pp. 249, &c. last edition. Those 
 which had an unfortunate catastrophe, were occasionally then, and still are, in our modem 
 stall prints, called Tragedies. 
 
 a 
 
ii 
 
 which treats of incredible achievements, and strange adventures by flood and 
 field, — deals largely with the Marvellous in all its multiform aspects, — and 
 occasionally jjours a brief but intense glare of supernatural light over those 
 dim and untravelled realms of Doubt and Dread, whose every nook the 
 giant superstition of elder days has colonized with a prodigal profusion of 
 mysterious and spiritual inhabitants. And in short, under this comprehen- 
 sive head, we must include every legend relating to person, place, thing, or 
 occurrence, to establish whose existence it would be vain to seek for other 
 evidence than that which popular tradition supplies. 
 
 Tlie other class is much easier described. It embraces all those narrative 
 songs, which derive their origin from historical facts, whether of a publick 
 or private nature. The subjects of these are national or personal conflicts, 
 family feuds, publick or domestick transactions, personal adventure, or local 
 incidents, which, in some shape or other, have fallen under the observation 
 of contemporary and authentick annalists. In general, these compositions may 
 be considered as coeval with the events which they commemorate ; 
 but, with this class as with that which has been styled the Romantick 
 ballad, it is not to be expected, that in their progress to our day, they 
 have undergone no modifications of form, and these very considerable, 
 ftom that in which they were originally produced and promulgated among 
 the people. 
 
 This interesting body of popular poetry, part of which, in point of an- 
 tiquity, may fairly be esteemed equal, if not superior, to the most ancient of 
 our written monuments, has owed its preservation principally to oral tradi- 
 tion. With the exception of a very few pieces, which, more through accident 
 than design, appear to have found their way into old MSS., or early printed 
 volumes, the ancient Ballad Poetry of Scotland must literally be gathered 
 from the lips of 
 
 " The spinsters and the knitters in the sun, 
 Who use to chaunt it." 
 
 But fragile and capricious as the tenure may seem by which it has held its 
 existence for centuries, it is worthy of remark how excellently well tradi- 
 tion serves as a substitute for more efficient and less mutable channels of 
 communicating the things of past ages to posterity. In proof of this, it is 
 
liL 
 
 only necessary to instance the well known ballad of Edom o Gordon, which 
 is tvailitionally preserved in Scotland, and of which there is fortunately ex- 
 tant a copy in an English MS., apparently coeval with the date of the 
 subject of the ballad. The title of this copy is Captain Care. We owe 
 its publication to the late Mr Ritson, in whose " Ancient Songs" it will be 
 found printed from a MS. in the Cottonian Library.* Between the text 
 of the traditionary version and that of the jNIS., a slight inspection will 
 satisfy us that the variations are neither very numerous nor very important. 
 This is taking the MS. as the standard of the original text, although it can 
 scai'cely be considered as such, seeing it has been transcribed by an English 
 clerk, who perhaps took it down from the imperfect recitation of some wan- 
 dering Scottish minstrel, and thereafter altered it to suit his own ideas of 
 poetical beauty.f Could, however, there be IMS. copies of other of our 
 ancient ballads recovered, it certainly would be a most desirable and valu- 
 able acquisition. If any such exist, and shall at any time hereafter be com- 
 municated to the world, it is confidently anticipated that they will establish 
 the fact of tradition being in all matters relative to popular poetry, a safe 
 and almost unerring guide. 
 
 Language, which, in the written literature of a country, is ever varying, 
 suffers no material changes nor corruptions among the lower and uneduca- 
 ted classes of society, by whom it is spoken, as their mother tongue. With 
 them, primitive forms of speech, peculiar idiomatick expressions, and antique 
 phrases, are still in use, which we would look for in vain in the literature of 
 the present day, or in its wordbooks, which are not professedly dedicated 
 to the " Restitution of Decayed Intelligence." It is not therefore with the 
 unlettered and the rude, that oral song suffers vital and irremediable wrong. 
 Wliat they have received from their forefathers, they transmit in the same 
 
 • Ancient Songs, London, 1790, p. 13/. Dr Percy mentions that a fragment of it also 
 occurs in his folio MS. 
 
 -|- Ritson styles it " the undoubted original of the Scottish Ballad, and one of the few 
 specimens now extant of the proper old English Ballad, as composed, not by a Grub Street 
 author for the stalls of London, but — to be chaunted up and down the kingdom, by the 
 wandering Minstrels of " the North Countrie." Burt nere the Critick has gratuitously 
 assumed, that the name which appears at the end of it as the copyist, is also that of the 
 author. 
 
IV 
 
 shape to their children ; for as the Pardonere in the Canterbury Tales has 
 justly remarkedj 
 
 — Lewd peple loven tales olde ; 
 
 SwJche things can they wel report and holde. 
 
 Localities and persons, may it is true, be occasionally shifted to answer 
 the meridian of the Reciter, and obsolete terms and epithets be laid aside 
 for others more generally in use ; but what may be called the facts of these 
 compositions, are never disturbed, nor ai'e their individual or characteristick 
 features ever lost. The tear and wear of three centuries will do less mis- 
 chief to the text of an old ballad among the vulgar, than one short hour will 
 eflfect, if in the possession of some sprightly and accomplished editor of the 
 present day, who may choose to impose on himself the thankless and uncalled 
 for labour of piecing and patching up its imperfections, polishing its asperi- 
 ties, correcting its mistakes, embellishing its naked details, purging it of 
 impurities, and of trimming it from top to toe with tailor-like fastidiousness 
 and nicety^ so as to be made fit for the press. For thus remodelling ancient 
 Song, such complacent wights claim as their reward the merest trifle — that 
 of saddling antiquity with the sin of begetting, and the shame of maintaining, 
 a few of the singularly beautiful and delicate growths of their own overpro- 
 ductive fancy. These pernicious and disingenuous practices breed a sick- 
 ly loathing in the mind of every conscientious antiquary, and would, if not 
 checked and exposed, in a short while, lay the broad axe to the root of 
 every thing like authenticity in oral song. 
 
 The almost total absence of written monuments to support the claims of 
 Scotland to an inheritance of Ancient National Minstrelsy enforces the stern 
 necessity of not wantonly tampering with the fleeting and precarious memo- 
 rials tradition has bequeathed to these latter times. Hence it has become 
 of the first importance to collect these songs with scrupulous and unshrink- 
 ing fidelity. If they are at all worth preserving, and no one who has an 
 unsophisticated and manly taste can deny that they are so, it assuredly 
 must be in the very garb in which they are remembered and known, and 
 can be proved to exist amongst us. It will not do to indulge in idle specu- 
 lations as to what they once may have been, and to recast them in what we 
 may fancy were their original moulds. We may regret that attention was 
 
\ ^ 
 
 ! 
 
 not earlier bestowed on this neglected though interesting portion of national 
 literature, but the only step we are warranted in taking to remedy what Sir 
 Thomas Browne has denominated " the supinity of elder times," is that of 
 preventing its future dilapidation, by now carefully and accurately gather- 
 ing what of its wreck we can yet find floating around us. The time may 
 come when even these fragments will also be irretrievably borne beyond our 
 reach. 
 
 ■^ Collections of these ballads printed as they orally exist will to those who 
 succeed us prove a source of peculiar gratification — a record of the most 
 instructive and interesting kind. They convey to posterity, that descrip- 
 tion of song which is peculiarly national and characteristick ; that body of 
 poetry which has inwoven itself with the feelings and passions of the peo- 
 ple, and which shadows forth as it were an actual embodiment of their 
 Universal mind, and of its intellectual and moral tendencies. They com- 
 municate tooj another favour, which we would be glad had been conferred on 
 us by any authority a century old, that is, the means of ascertaining what 
 in our day were deemed ancient compositions, and what of more recent or 
 of contemporaneous date with ourselves. 
 
 Evident however as the importance is of thus collecting our traditionary 
 poetry, purely as it is to be found, it unfortunately happens, that this has 
 been too often slightingly and slovenly executed. With many of these bal- 
 lads, liberties of the most exceptionable and flagrant description have occa- 
 sionally been taken by their respective editors, liberties as imcalled for as 
 thev are unpardonable in the eye of every rigid and honest critick. Some 
 of these offences against truth and correct taste, are of a very deep, others 
 of a lighter shade of criminality, but be they what they may in magnitude, 
 all are alike deserving of unmitigated condemnation. 
 
 It is perhaps unnecessary to mention, that of every old traditionary bal~ 
 lad known, tliere exists what may be called different versions. In other 
 words, the same story is told after a different fashion in one district of the 
 country, from what it is remembered in another. It therefore not unfre- 
 quently occurs, that no two copies obtained in parts of the country distant 
 from each other, will be found completely to tally in their texts ; perhaps 
 they may not have a single stanza which is mutual property, except certain 
 
vi 
 
 common-places which seem an integrant portion of the original mechanism, 
 of all our ancient ballads, and the presence of which forms one of their most 
 peculiar and distinctive characteristicks, as contrasted with the modern bal- 
 lad. Both of these copies, however, narrate the same story. In that par- 
 ticular, their identity with each other cannot be disputed; but in many minute 
 circumstances, as well as in the Avay by which the same catastrophe is 
 brought out, sensible differences exist. By selecting the most beautiful 
 and striking passages, which present themselves in the one copy, and mak- 
 ing these cohere as they best may, with similar extracts detached from the 
 other copy, the editor of oral poetry succeeds in producing from the con- 
 flicting texts of his various authorities, a tirdd version more perfect and or- 
 nate than any individual one as it originally stood. This improved version 
 may contain the quintessence — the poetick elements of each copy consul- 
 ted, but in this general resemblance to all, it loses its particular affinity to any 
 one. Its individuality entirely disappears, and those features by which each 
 separate copy proved its authenticity, in the collated version, become faint 
 and dubious, confused and undistinguishable. Such copies, however, are 
 those which find their way readiest into our every-day compilations of such 
 things, as well on account of their superior poetical merit, as of the compa- 
 rative distinctness and fulness of their narrative ; and to readers not accus- 
 tomed to enquire into the nature of traditionary poetry, they thus convey 
 very inaccurate impressions of the state in which these compositions are ac- 
 tually extant among us. 
 
 This mode, then, of editing ancient ballads, by subjecting them to the pro- 
 cess of refinement now described, though it be more conscientious and less 
 liable to censure than another method also resorted to, is nevertheless highly 
 objectionable, as effectually marring the venerable simplicity of early song, de- 
 stroying in a great measure its characteristick peculiarities, and as being the 
 means of introducing erroneous conceptions regarding our vernacular poe- 
 try, which has been recovered from tradition. 
 
 All versions of a ballad so preserved by oral transmission from one age 
 to another, are entitled to be considered as of equal authenticity, and coeval 
 production, one with the other, although among them, wide and irreconcile- 
 able discrepancies exist. Indeed, the differences between some copies of the 
 
vu 
 
 same ballad are so important, that their existence can be accounted for iu 
 no other way, than by supposing these different versions the productions 
 of so many distinct minstrels, each of whom obtained the story, which he 
 versified from a channel foreign to that accessible by his fellow poets. Some 
 of these diversities, it is true, may be attributable to the interpolations and 
 corruptions acquired in the course of time, through the ignorance of re- 
 citers. Some are inaccurately committed to memory at first, and are thus 
 in an incomplete form delivered. Others are iu part forgotten, and the de- 
 fects of the memory may be supplied by the invention of the reciter, or the 
 limb of some other similar composition substituted for that which is lost. 
 But allowing the utmost latitude for the many mutations incident to this 
 species of literature, still it cannot account for all the variations we find 
 in these copies, several of which ought to be elevated to the rank of dis- 
 tinct ballads iu place of being regarded as mere variations from one original 
 text. 
 
 Under the pressure of such circumstances, then, it surely is the duty 
 of the collector and editor of Traditionaiy ballads, to avoid the perilous and 
 frequently abortive task, of uniting discordant and essentially incohesive 
 texts,, and to content himself with merely selecting that one of his copies 
 which appears the most complete and least vitiated — and to give it purely 
 and simply as he obtained it, without hazarding any emendation whatsoever. 
 
 If this comparatively innocent mode of restoring our ancient ballads be ob- 
 noxious to censui'e, they are still more culpable as editors, who under no au- 
 thority of written or recited copy, but merely to gratify their own insatiate 
 rage for innovation and improvement, recklessly and injudiciously cut and 
 carve as they list on these productions, and in some cases entirely re-write 
 them. Where the nan-ative is poor iu incident — where it is wholly barren 
 of imeigery, there they most thickly plant their own bastard inventions, and 
 strew the delicate blossoms of their omi precious conceit ; where the ancient 
 song breaks forth in the earnest, simple, and downright language of passion 
 and of nature, there oui- ballad renovator must dilute it to the slip-slop sen- 
 timent of his own day, and garnish it with the artificial brilliancies of his own 
 style of writing ; introducing throughout a cuiTent of feeling, and a tissue of 
 allusions, (poetical, very poetical, we shall be charitable enough to suppose 
 
VIU 
 
 they are,) wholly at issue with the cast of thought, the manners, and the 
 modes of expression peculiar to the age which produced the original poem. 
 And, where the Ancient Minstrel, true in his delineations of society and of 
 manners to the times in which he flourished, faithfully and vigorously 
 sketches, ad vivam, nor hesitates, in the rush and tide of his song, to call a 
 spade a spade, the Modern affects to shudder at the grossness and vulgarity 
 of Antiquity, and diligently weaves his own gossamer web of sensuality around 
 the nakedness of ancient simplicity, and then gloats over his seductive handy- 
 work, with the complacency of the merest voluptuary. They who choose 
 to stigmatise the Muse of Antiquity as being rather '^•'high kilted," do no 
 service either to Letters or to Morality by apparelling her in a " trailing 
 gown," or giving her a " syde tail " of their own fashioning. In truth, it is 
 by such impertinent and peniicious labours that the obscenities of early 
 writers become disgustingly obtruded on the publick eye. Had they been 
 allowed to pass uncommented on, they would never have called a blush to 
 the innocent cheek, or in the unaffectedly pure mind have wakened one un- 
 hallowed thought. For the curious and important knowledge then, which 
 enables us to detect and understand the gross witticisms and licentious al- 
 lusions of our ancestors, we stand indebted to the tasteful emendations, the 
 delicate and minute criticism of these singularly sensitive and moral editors. 
 But in their bitter wrath and in their lachrymose exclamations against the 
 licentiousness of ancient song, and the times which produced and could re- 
 lish such foul dainties, and in the pains they take to detect the presence of 
 indelicate inuendo, though never so cunuingly wrapped up in some dark al- I 
 
 legory, and in the skill they shew for its purification by kindly paraphrasing 
 every objectionable passage, these well-meaning individuals not unfrequently 
 manifest a lurking affection for their task, and a perfect acquaintance with 
 its subject, seldom to be found in conjunction with that unspotted purity and 
 extraordinary refinement and maidenlike delicacy which they profess. ' 
 
 There is yet another description of old song editors, whose mischievous and 
 dishonest propensities cannot be too severely reprobated. It consists of those 
 gentlemen who deem themselves fully better poets than ever earlier times pro- 
 duced ; but who cannot persuade the publick to think so, or even prevail on it 
 toread their compositions till theyhave given them a slight sprinkling of olden 
 
 \ 
 
IX 
 
 phmseology and stoutly maintained that they were genuine specimens of 
 ancient song. Some trash accounted as ancient, they have by sheer impu- 
 dence thus succeeded in forcing down the throat of a credulous and gaping 
 publick ; but sooner or later these paltry forgeries are laid bare to the shame 
 and confusion of the utterer. The attempt to poison the sources of history, 
 and to confound truth by such fabrications, is despicable and unprincipled. 
 It is much to be regretted, however, that some men of undeniable talents 
 have occasionally lent themselves to such ignoble ends, and bartered an 
 honest fame for a worthless and shadowy triumph. But with all their 
 ingenuity in the manufacture of these antique gems, they can at best only 
 gull the rabble, a poor and mean gratification, while on every hand they 
 encounter the risque of being roughly handled by those who know the 
 studies in which they traffick much better than themselves, and who by a 
 solitary scratch of theii' pen can dissipate the idle fabrications thus pain- 
 fully reared on falsehood and imposition, and expose their authors to the 
 contempt and derision of that publick whose credulity and confidence they 
 have abused. 
 
 When we look ai'ound us and find so voluminous a body of Vernacular 
 poetry traditionally preserved among the patriotick children of an ancient 
 and heroick race, for a period of time to which imagination can assign no 
 definite limits, but whose origin seems as remote and involved in as much 
 darkness as the eai"ly history of the people themselves — a body of poetry, 
 breathing at one time of " high erected thoughts seated in a heart of cour- 
 tesie," and at another ovei-flowing with pathos, and tenderest feeling ; at 
 one time swelling into all the pomp of chivalrick circumstance, and full of 
 unmingled joy and triumph, at another moment narrowing itself into 
 the intense interest of the deepest tragedy — a body of poetry as various 
 in its subjects as those Armorican lays which 
 
 Ben yfounde of ferli thing, 
 Sum bethe of wer and sum of wo, 
 Sum of joie and mirthe also, 
 And sum of trecherie and of gile, 
 Of old auentours that fel while. 
 And sum of bourdes and ribaudy, 
 And many ther beth of fairy ; 
 b 
 
Of al thinges that men seth, 
 Maist o love forsothe thai bethe. 
 
 A series of compositions, terse and unlaboured, but supplying in their de- 
 tails satisfactory and striking illustrations of the manners, habits, feelings, 
 superstitions, and prejudices of days deep hidden in the gloom of hoar 
 antiquity, and whose peculiarities of style so completely distinguish them 
 fi'om those productions of more recent times, which embrace a similar 
 range of topicks : and when we find this curious and interesting species of 
 national literature transmitted even to the present day, with a copiousness 
 and fidelity almost rivalling the certainty and authenticity of written monu- 
 ments, we are naturally led to inquu-e, not only into the causes which have 
 80 linked it with the affections of each succeeding race, but our atten- 
 tion is also directed to the times which first cherished so remarkable a class 
 of compositions, and to the poets by whom it was produced. Ample 
 though such a field of inquiry be, it nevertheless is one wherein little pro- 
 gi'ess can be made, with any degree of historical certainty ; and, in an in- 
 vestigation whose object is professed to be the elucidation of truth, it woultl 
 be idle to substitute conjecture for facts. 
 
 To point out what truly are the most ancient of these compositions, can- 
 not be attempted with any success. Though tradition may faithfully trans- 
 mit to us the narrative uninjured and unshorn of any part of its circum- 
 stance, nay even give the sentiments of the poet unaltered, and preserve the 
 character of the piece precisely as at first pourtrayed, yet it alters the lan- 
 guage so completely, that not a word may be preserved which originally 
 was there. The phraseology of one age, as it becomes obsolete and strange, 
 is in oral literature, ever supplanted by equivalent terms which are better 
 understood, or are in daily use ; and these again in their turn, at some fu- 
 ture period, yield to the same inexorable law of perpetual mutation. Thus 
 the distinguishing features of diflFerent ages, so far as these are indicated by 
 language, become eo thoroughly blended, that to fix the antiquity of tradi- 
 tionary song by any evidence which its diction supplies, is a hopeless, and, 
 at best, an unsatisfactory endeavour. 
 
 *' There are in Scotland," says Ritson, "many ballads or legendary and ro- 
 mantick songs, composed in a singular style, and preserved by tradition among 
 
XI 
 
 the country people. It must, however, be confessed, that none of these com- 
 positions bear satisfactory marks of the antiquity they pretend to, while the 
 expressions or allusions occurring in some, would seem to fix their origin to 
 a very modern date."* The opinions of a writer of so much acuteness and 
 information in poetick archaiology as Ritson, however hastily and inconsi- 
 derately delivered, are deserving of attention ; but in this quotation it is to be 
 observed that he only refers to the " expressions and allusions " interspers- 
 ed through the ballads he had an opportunity of studying, not to their gene- 
 ral structure and to those common places and curious burdens they frequent- 
 ly have, whicli serve as land marks, and helps to the memory of the reciter, 
 while they secure the stream of the narrative from being broken or inter- 
 rupted by the innovations of time, and the mutations of language. It is 
 granted at once that the " expressions and allusions " of these compositions 
 fluctuate, and that frequently, but these changes never alter entirely the 
 venerable aspect of the whole ballad. It is like repairing gradually the 
 weather worn face of an ancient cathedral, by the insertion here and there 
 of a freshly hewn stone, as need may require. The outline of the building 
 and the effect of the whole remain unchanged. Though the comparatively 
 modem look of ballad phraseology, so far as dependant on certain allusions 
 and expressions, is admitted to greater latitude than what is truly the fact, 
 it is well known to those acquainted with the subject, that they still retain 
 many " aureat termes," struck in the mint of the olden time, amply suffi- 
 cient to vouch for their remote extraction and gentle blood, even were there 
 no other evidence at hand of a less questionable and suspicious kind. That 
 evidence is contained in the bosom of the ballads themselves. They enjoy 
 peculiar features, which not only distinguish them from the like sort of com- 
 positions produced in more recent times, but certain characteristicks which i 
 separate them from the written poetry of their own day, and identify them 
 with each other as belonging to one body and family of National Minstrel- 
 sy. These features, it will be found, are common also to the early tradi- 
 tionary poetry of the Scandinavian provinces of Europe ; and constitute, in 
 
 ' Historical Essay prefixed to " Scotti^h Song, Lond. 1794." p. Ixxx. 
 
xu 
 
 fact, the bounding line which exists between what is the Oral and what is 
 the Written poetry of a people, or of that poetry whicli is equally intel- 
 ligible to the unlettered as to the learned. We shall endeavour partially to 
 sketch some of these distinctive and unalterable features of the ancient tra- 
 ditionary ballad of Scotland, although we feel that to do complete justice to 
 the subject, is neither in our power, nor is it compatible with the limits of 
 this essay. Besides, there grows up an intuitive and auxiliary sense in all 
 who are familiar with this study, which enables them at once, without any 
 laboured process of induction or critical analysis, to discriminate between 
 what is ancient and what is modern, or the imitation of the ancient ; but 
 this kind of intuitive perception cannot be communicated by words to 
 another ; and it is now merely mentioned to obviate any appearance of dog- 
 matism, if, in the course of our observations, we should at any time call this 
 old or that new, this genuine or that a forgery, without condescending to 
 detail the groimds upon which such brief censures are founded. 
 
 The first thing that solicits our notice in the Romantick ballad, is the almost 
 uniform dramatick cast of its structure. The action of the piece commences 
 at once. It does not, like the metrical romance, proceed after craving the at- 
 tention of lord and lady, and invoking the aid of the Virgin Mary, &c., to give 
 a sketch of the parentage, education, and promising qualities of the doughty 
 knight or gentle squire who is to figure in it. There is no pompous an- 
 nouncement of the exquisite enjoyment to be derived from the carping of 
 such noble gestes. If such particulars are at all alluded to, they are noticed 
 merely incidentally, and dashed oflF- perhaps in a single line. The charac- 
 ters and the destinies of those who form the subject of such tales are learn- 
 ed from their actions, not by the description of the poet. They generally 
 open with some striking and natural picture, pregnant with life and 
 motion. The story runs on in an arrowlike stream, with all the straight- 
 forwardness of unfeigned and earnest passion. There is no turning back to 
 mend what has been said amiss, to render more clear that which may have 
 been dimly expressed, or slightly hinted ; and there is no pause made to 
 gather on the way beautiful images or appropriate illustrations. If 
 these come naturally and unavoidably, as it were, good and well, but 
 there is no loitering and winding about and about aa if unwilling to 
 
XIU 
 
 move on till these should suggest themselves. The charm of the composi- 
 tion lies in the story which it evolves. Strained and artificial feeling has 
 no place in it, and rhetorical embellishments are equally unknown. Des- 
 scriptions of natural scenery are never attempted, and sentiment is almost 
 unheard of. Much is always left for imagination to fancy, and for the feel- 
 ings of the auditors, to supply, roused as they cannot fail to be, by the sce- 
 nick picture rapidly and distinctly traced before the mind's eye. In his 
 narrative, the poet always appears to be acting in good faith with his 
 audience. He does not sing to another what he discredits himself, nor does 
 he appeal to other testimony in support of his statements. There is no 
 reference to "as the boke tells," or " as in Romans I rede," for a 
 con'oboration of what he affirms. He always speaks as if the subject 
 which he handles were one quite familiar to those whom he addresses, and 
 touching which nothing but a perfectly honest and circumstantial state- 
 ment of facts could be relished. If fifteen stalworth foresters are slain by 
 one stout knight, single handed, he never steps out of his way to prove 
 the truth of such an achievement, by appealing to the exploits of some 
 other notable manslayer. If a mermaid should, from a love of solitude 
 and the picturesque, haunt some lone and lovely river, and there, while 
 kembing her yellow locks, peradventure fascinate some unhappy wight, the 
 poet never apologises for the appearance of the waterwomau, by covertly 
 insinuating how marvellous be the inhabitants of the ocean — and though an 
 Elfin-knight should unceremoniously adopt for his paramour, some young 
 lady whom he meets of a summer's evening, while rambling through the 
 gay greenwood, and whose taste for the lovelinesses of nature, is certainly 
 more remarkable than her prudence ; he never betrays any surprise at the 
 circumstance, but treats it as a matter of every day occurrence and histo- 
 rical notoriety. Should an unhappy ghost wander back to earth, the poet 
 is perfectly master of the dialogue he holds with the maid he left behind him : 
 nor is he at a loss accurately to describe how the fiend can, with a single 
 kick of his cloven foot, sink a goodly bark, although reasonable doubts may 
 well be entertained how such facts could have transpired, seeing none of its 
 crew ever reached the land to sing of such an " unhappy voyage," more 
 terrifick by a deal, than that performed under the melancholy auspices of 
 
XIV 
 
 that " brisk and tall young man," bight " William Glen," who was bound 
 for, but alas never returned from, " New Barbarie." 
 
 But be*the subject of the narrative what it may, whether it be of real life 
 fraught with an interest deeply tragical, or one of wild superstition and 
 romantick incident, it will ever be found clearly, succinctly and impressively 
 told. There is no unnecessary waste of words — no redundancy of circum- 
 stances, nor artful involution of plot — and no laying of colour above colour, 
 to give a body and brilliancy to the picture. It stands out in simple and 
 severe beauty — a beauty aiising not from the loveliness of any one indivi- 
 dual feature, but from the perfect harmony and wholeness subsisting among, 
 and sustaining all. 
 
 From the dramatick structure of these songs, we are naturally led to 
 infer that when the singing, or recitation of them was the business of Min- 
 strels, they were prefaced with some account of the previous history of the 
 several individuals whom they respectively commemorate ; and that many 
 minute circumstances elucidatory of them were detailed, not only for the 
 purpose of interesting their hearers, but likewise to make the abrupt 
 transitions occurring in some of these ballads, more easy of apprehension to 
 such as were strangers in the company. That this was the fact, admits of 
 little doubt. Traces of such a custom still remain in the lowlands of Scot- 
 land, among those who have stores of these songs upon their memory. 
 Reciters frequently, when any part of the naiTative appears incomplete, 
 supply the defect in prose. Where the ballad naturally terminates,- they 
 can tell what became of some isferior or subordinate character mentioned 
 in it, whom the minstrel has passed over in silence, as interfering with the 
 interest which should be exclusively concentrated around the pruicipal 
 personages. Some pieces too are prose and rhyme intermixed, the 
 dialogue and those parts purely lyrical are in metre, while the narrative 
 and descriptive portions ai'e given in such humble prose as the reciter can 
 funiish. An instance of this liind, Mr Jamieson has given in " Illus- 
 trations of Northern Antiquities,"* and many similar cases could be pro- 
 
 • Rosmer Half-man, or the Merman Rosmer, p. 379. The legend Ihere given still ex- 
 ists in the Nursery ; but it has now, I believe, freed itself of all its metrical portions. The 
 
XV 
 
 (luced, were it necessary. Thus I have heard the ancient ballad of " Young 
 Beichen and Susy Pye," dilated by a Story-teller into a tale of very re- 
 markable dimensions — a paragraph of prose, and then a screed of rhyme 
 alternately given. From this ballad, I may give a short specimen after the 
 fashion of the venerable authority from whom I quote : " Well ye must 
 know that in the Moor's Castle, there was a Massymore, which is a dark 
 deep dungeon for keeping prisoners. It was twenty feet below the ground, 
 and into this hole they closed poor Beichan. There he stood, night and 
 day, up to his waist in puddle water ; but night or day it was all one to 
 him, for no ae styme of light ever got in. So he lay there alang and weary 
 while, and thinking on his heavy weird, he made a mumfu' sang to pass the 
 time — and this was the sang that he made, and grat when he sang it, for he 
 never thought of ever escaping from the Massymore, or of seeing his am 
 
 country again : 
 
 " My hounds they all run masterless, 
 JMy hawks they flee from tree to tree ; 
 My youngest brother will heir my lands, 
 And fair England again I'll never see. 
 
 Oh were I free as I hae been, 
 
 And my ship swimming once more on sea ; 
 
 I'd turn my face to fair England, 
 
 And sail no more to a strange countrie. 
 
 Now the cruel Moor had a beautiful daughter, called Susy Pye, who was 
 
 accustomed to take a walk every morning in her garden, and as she was 
 
 walking ae day she heard the sough o' Beichan 's Sang,* coming as it were 
 
 from below the ground, &c. &c. •' 
 
 chance is but small that it will ever be recovered in a more perfect shape, than what Mr 
 Jamieson's memory has enabled him to present it. 
 
 • This popular Ballad, which is apparently an English production, exists in many dif- 
 ferent shapes in Scotland. It is of unquestionable antiquity, and the young Beichan or 
 Bekie, whose captivity, sufferings, and subsequent marriage with his deliverer, it records, 
 is no less a personage than the father of the celebrated Thomas a Becket. In " the life 
 of Thomas Becket, quoted in Warton's History val. i. p. 19 occurs this notice. 
 " Ther was Gilbert Thomas fadir, name the trewe man and gode, 
 He loved God and holi cherche setthe he witte onderstode ; 
 The cros to the holi cherche in his zouthe he nom, 
 
 myd on Rychard that was his mon to Jerlem come, 
 
 Ther hy d^.de, here pylgrimage in holi stedes feste, 
 ^ So that among Saraayns hy wer nom at laste." 
 
 #, 
 
 f 
 
 » 
 
XVI 
 
 In the same way, we are informed by Mr Smith, that Reciters of Earse 
 Poems, frequently accompany them with a prose commentary;* a practice 
 which also obtained in Denmark, and which is referred to by the com- 
 piler of the Kampe Viser.f Some of the Ancient French Fabliaux appear 
 
 When so named, it is probable the Saracen lady fell in love with him. Gilbert Becket 
 must have been a distinguished individual in his day. He appears to have been Port- 
 giave of London, a title now changed to that of Mayor. See "• a brief chronicle of 
 the success of Times," Lond. 1611, p. 574. That he was a person of great estate, Langtoft 
 bears witness. 
 
 Ther was his chancelere, Thomas of London born ; 
 
 Saynt Thomas fader I fynd bight Thomas (Gilbert) Beket ; 
 
 In London of noble kynd and moste of alle was let, 
 
 A riche man he was, mot spend thre hundreth pound. 
 Langtoft's chronicle apud Hearne, p. 128. Hollingshed, speaking of the Saint, says ; 
 " This Becket was borne in London, his father hight Gilbert, but his mother was a Syrian 
 born, and by religion a Saracen ;" To the same effect Baker ; " The man was Thoma* 
 Becket, born in London ; his father one Gilbert Becket, his mother an outlandish woman 
 of the country oi Syria. Fox in his Acts and Monuments, vol. i. p. 267, Lond. 1641, 
 affords another notice — " 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, &c." Though she came from the quar- 
 ter. Fox says she came from, that did not prevent her from being a Saracen, a designation 
 as general then as heathen is at the present day. 
 
 These notices will afford evidence sufficient to warrant us referring the ballad to the indi- 
 vidual now pointed out. An inspection of some of the numerous legends touching the 
 blessed IMartyr, Saint Thomas of Canterbury, wiU probably supply many other interesting 
 particulars tending more completely to connect and identify them. 
 
 • Speaking of some liberties he was obliged to take in the translations of poems he had 
 made from the Gaelic, the Rev. Mr Smith in his Gaelic Antiquities, Edin., 1780, says : " If 
 any apology, however, be requisite for these freedoms, I can add that I have been for the 
 most part guided in mj? conjectures, and even supplied in my additions, by the traditional 
 tales, or sgeulachds which always accompany, and often explain the old Gaelic poems, 
 and which often remain entire when the poems themselves are reduced to fragments," p. 
 129. of a Dissertation on the authenticity of Ossian's Poems. 
 
 -f- This is still the practice in the Highlands of Scotland, in Ireland, the Isle of Man, 
 and Wales ; and, we believe, in every other country where such productions are preserved by 
 oral tradition. " I have prefixed," says Mr Syv in his preface to the K. Viscr, " short 
 notices to some of the ballads, and annexed such explanatory notes as seemed to be re- 
 quired, thus following in my publication, the usage of those by whom these ditties have 
 been handed down to us, who were accustomed first to sing the ballad, and when they had 
 finished, to relate the story, with all the circumstances connected with it, in prose. The 
 explanation was called Urskyring, a word still in use in the Islandic language. This method 
 of giving text and commentary tended to impress the tale upon the memory, and facilitated 
 the traditionary preservation of these relics : and it is to such materials handed down in this 
 manner from one to another, that we are indebted for the historical labours of " Adam of 
 Bremen, Snorro Storleson Saxo, and Bishop Absalon," see foot note in introduction to 
 popular Ballads in " Illustrations of Northern Antiquities," p. 239. 
 

 . 
 
 xvu 
 likewise to have been partly intended for recitation and partly for being 
 
 sung.* 
 
 That many of these ballads had certain frames in which they were set, and 
 which like the chorus of the Ancient Drama, discussed the motives of the 
 characters, or entered more minutely into their history, than was consistent 
 wdth the limits and action of the metrical piece, derives conoboration from 
 the fact that a few of them still retain in their Initial Stanzas, matter of an 
 explanatory description. And, acting upon this principle, it would appear 
 that the writers and printers of our modern ballads, have in the introductory 
 verses of these ditties, or in the formidable titles with which they are pre- 
 fixed, endeavoured to communicate to the reader that information which 
 the Ancient Minstrel in all probability announced orally to his audience be- 
 fore he smote his harp with the hand of power. 
 
 There is another feature which the ancient ballads have in common with 
 each other, and which constitutes a material distinction between them, and 
 those written purposely for the press. They are much more licentious and 
 incorrect in their metres according to the present standards of taste in these 
 matters : the accent not uufrequently falls on syllables at variance with our 
 present mode of pronunciation, and they have throughout the marks of a 
 composition, not meant for being committed to writing, but whose musick 
 formed an essential part of it, and from which it could not well be sepai'ated, 
 without sensibly interfering with its unity and injuring its effect. And 
 indeed it is pretty evident, that many of them would require both the voice 
 and instrument to be humoured, so as to conceal the many irregularities of 
 measure and rhyme, or other accidental harshnesses into which the poet had 
 fallen. It is well observed by the father of this kind of literature, in his 
 learned " Essay on the Ancient Minstrels," that, " in the more ancient bal- 
 lads in that collection, the reader would observe a cast of style and measure 
 very different from that of contemporary poets of a higher class; many 
 phrases and idioms which the minstrels seem to have appropriated to them- 
 selves, and a .very remax'kable license of varying the accent of wo^ds at plea- 
 
 Way's Fabliaux, volume i, page 151. London, 1815. 
 c 
 
XVlll 
 
 eurcj in order to humour tbe flow of ths verse, particularly in the rhymes 
 as 
 
 Countrie harper battel morning, 
 Ladie singer damsel living, 
 
 instead of country, lady, harper, singer, &c. This liberty is but sparingly 
 assumed by the classical poets of the same age, or eren by such as professed- 
 ly -RTote for the press. For it is to be observed, that so long as the min- 
 strels subsisted, they seemed never to have designed their rhymes for lite- 
 rary publication, and probably never committed them to writing themselves ; 
 what copies are preserved of them were doubtless taken down from their 
 lips. But as the old minstrels gradually wore out, a new race of ballad- 
 writers succeeded — an inferior sort of minor poets who wrote narrative songs 
 merely for the press. Instances of both may be found in the reign of 
 Elizabeth. The old minstrel ballads are in the northern dialect, abound 
 with antique phrases, ai'e extremely incoiTect, and run into the utmost li- 
 cense of metre ; they have also a romantick wildness, and are in the true 
 spirit of chivalry. The other sort are written in exacter measure, have a low 
 or subordinate correctness, sometimes bordering on the insipid, yet often 
 well adapted to the pathetick ; these are generally in the southern dialect, 
 exhibit a more modem phraseology, and are commonly descriptive of more 
 modem manners."* These observations, which refer to the English ballad, 
 are equally applicable to the ancient and modem ballad of Scotland. For 
 it need scarcely be mentioned, that in their character both resemble each 
 other so much, that it becomes impossible to say to which country a great 
 number of them belong. Indeed the most of our old ballads appear to have 
 been equally well known on the south, as on the north of the Tweed ; but 
 in the Scottish ballads, there never occurs any mention of " Harpers of the 
 North Countrie," which silence taken in conjunction with the admission of 
 the English ballads may be twisted into something like a proof, that Scot- 
 land was looked on, as the accredited source of Minstrel song. We know 
 her poets did not scruple to acknowledge their obligations to Chaucer as 
 
 " Reliques of English Poetry, oth Edit. Lond. 1812. 
 
XIX 
 
 " flour of rethoris al/' and even *' Dan Lydgate," came in for a share of 
 their approbation, along with " moral Gower ;" and had her Minstrels owed 
 any thing to their brethren of the South, that debt, no doubt, would also liave 
 been as gratefully remembered.* 
 
 But one of the most striking, and we may add, never varying features of 
 these compositions, is their ever agreeing in describing certain actions in one 
 uniform way — their identity of language, epithet, and expression, in numer- 
 ous scenes where the least resemblance of incident occurs. Instances of 
 this fact are familiar to the student of old ballads as household words ; but, 
 as it is not every one who pays attention to these curious reliques of early 
 poetry, it may be excusable to dwell a little on this singularity of their com- 
 position. It would seem that these common places are so many ingenious 
 devices, no doubt suggested by the wisdom and experience of many ages, 
 whereby oral poetry is more firmly imprinted on the memory, more readily 
 recalled to it, when partially obliterated, and, in the absence of letters, the 
 only efficacious means of preserving and transmitting it to after times. Be- 
 sides, it is in them that we not unfrequently recognize those epithets and al- 
 lusions, which carry the compositions to which they appertain, to a remote 
 age— epithets and allusions to which the reciter of modem times does not 
 and cannot well attach any distinct meaning, but which he nevertheless re- 
 peats as he got them ; because he finds they occur in all such songs as uni- 
 formly, as its burden perhaps of " deny down, down, hey deiTy down." In 
 no modern, or comparatively modem ballad, do they ever present them- 
 selves, except in a few, which may be considered as fi-amed on the ancient 
 models, or in those which immediately succeeded to the ancient ones, whose 
 featm-es in part they must have retained, in order to win their way to 
 vuKar favour. For a sudden departure from those forms which use 
 
 • In the introduction prefixed to the Romance of Sir Tristrem, the learned editor or 
 that curious early poem, has very ingeniously suggested that the southern provinces of 
 Scotland, and northern shires of England, which for along period belonged to the Scottish 
 Crown, may be looked on as a probable source, from which emanated much of the Ro- 
 mance of the Middle ages, especially that class which commemorated the achievements of 
 Arthur and his Knights. The arguments brought forward in support of this opinion are 
 very specious, if not altogether convincing ; but the theory itself, is one which deserves to 
 be further prosecuted than it has been by the eminent scholar who first started it. 
 
XX 
 
 had rendered familiar, and age venerable, would not be tolerated by the 
 body of the people ; but a silent and imperceptible change might be gradu- 
 ally introduced withorut exciting disgust, or openly wamng with the over- 
 whelming power of ancient prepossessions and long cherished associations. 
 The snake does not cast off its slough at once, but slowly, and part by part, 
 it peels off and wears away : nor did the ballad part all at once with the 
 livery, grave antiquity had clothed it in. Thus to very recent times, in- 
 deed, we can distinctly follow out the traces of the ancient ballad style of 
 writing ; and it is remarkable enough, that the compositions which so re- 
 tain the characteristicks of an earlier body of song, though never so faintly 
 apparent, are those which have become most extensively diffused over the 
 country, and have been most perfectly committed to memory. 
 
 Shakspeare has sung, that " the course of true love never did run 
 smooth," and many of our, Ancient Ballads confirm the sad tale. In those 
 Ballads whose interest is derived from this fruitful source of human misery, 
 Ave find a perfect uniformity of expression, in all cases where the death 
 of the lovers is described. The very hour of this mournful event is pointed 
 out with a painful precision, that would defy the utmost chronological accura- 
 cy of the minutest obituarist ; and when they are interred, as always happens, 
 the one in the chancel, and the other in the quire, the miracle of the rose bush, 
 springing from the one grave, and growing and entwining itself with the briar, 
 which shoots up with a fond eagerness from the other, till they reach the 
 roof, where they shape themselves into a true-love knot, follows as a matter of 
 course. This beautiful and pleasing fiction, casts a soft and tender light over 
 the moral history of that people, whose popular poetry cherishes such amiable 
 creations ; and who in their hearts believe this emblematick triumph of im- 
 perishable constancy, and true passion over death itself. The lovers in 
 these compositions are ever found in " Their lives lovely, and in their death, 
 undivided." 
 
 In cases where a message is to be run, a letter or token to be delivered, 
 the same identity of expression, or but slightly varied, according to cir- 
 cumstances, obtains. The message itself is delivered word for word as it 
 was communicated, and if a letter happens to be the medium of intelli- 
 gence, we find it uniformly has the effect of exciting very opposite emotions 
 
xxi 
 
 in the individual to whom it is addressed. Like the fatal mandate deli- 
 vered to Sir Patrick Spens, the first line provokes a " loud lauch," but at the 
 second, "the saut tear blinds his e'e ;" and those Ballads which go the length 
 of describing the further effects produced generally mention that of the third 
 line, " a word he could not see." 
 
 Gentle dames, who choose to undergo a voluntary penance, as a mark 
 of their son-ow for the loss of their paramours, cannot content themselves 
 with a less period than seven years for enduring privations, which would 
 shock any sensitive lady of the present day. These privations consist in 
 denying themselves the use of coal and candle — neglecting to comb their hair 
 —to glove their hand — or put a shoe on their foot, or a smock on their back. 
 After enduring these hardships they not unfrequently have the satisfaction, 
 on some chill moonshiny night of meeting their lovers' spirit, with whom 
 they enjoy an edifying conversation, and to whom they then render back 
 his plighted troth, in order that he may sleep at peace in his cold and narrow 
 home. Indeed there is not an action, nor an occurrence of any sort, but what 
 has its appropriate phraseology, and to enumerate all these would, in eft'ect, 
 be to give the principal portion of all our ancient Ballads. For in all cases 
 where there is an identity of incident, of circumstance, of action, each Bal- 
 lad varies not from the established mode of clothing these in language. This 
 simplicity of narrative and undeviating recurrence of identical expressions in 
 analogous cases, is one never failing mark of the antiquity of these songs, 
 and their absence the best argument to the contrary. When a lover comes 
 to his true-love's bower, he uniformly makes use of but one argument to 
 gain admittance : 
 
 O Rise, O Rise Lady Margerie, 
 
 O Rise and let me in; 
 For the rain rains on my yellow hair, 
 
 And the dew draps on my chin. 
 
 and much to the credit of the tender hearts that then held the world in 
 gentle thrall, we seldom find that the shivering gallant was long excluded, 
 for as the minstrel has it, 
 
 With her feet as white as sleet. 
 She strode her bower within, 
 
xxu 
 
 And with her fingers lang and sma', 
 She loot sweet Willie in. 
 
 A combat though never so toughly and tediously maintained, is very 
 
 briefly handled by the poet. There is a sort of brachigraphy, or short-hand 
 
 used in the description, quite startling to the prosing of a modern versifier. 
 
 The " nut-brown sword/' which at this moment " hung low down by the 
 
 gair " of the one duellist, is in the next sheathed " betwixt the short rib and 
 
 the lang " of the other. When swords were at every one's thigh, it was of 
 
 use to know how to wield them effectively. The Jews seem to have had a 
 
 partiality for the same kind of thrust. In a note upon the following verses 
 
 of Childe Maurice which may be quoted as an illustration of what has been 
 
 said regarding the brevity of the Minstrel descriptions of duels — 
 
 But he pulled out a bright browne sword, 
 And dryed itt on the grasse, 
 And soe faste he smote at John Steward, 
 I wis he never rest. 
 
 Then he pulled forth his bright browne sword, 
 And dryed itt on his sleeve, 
 And the first good stroke, John Steward stroke, 
 Childe Maurice head he did cleeve. 
 
 an eminent antiquary remarks that " This singular act of cool revenge- 
 ful malignity occurs in almost every one of our tragic ballads. This I know 
 not well how to account for, as it seems far from natural that a jealous 
 rival or injmed husband, should in the veiy heat and fuiy of passion, and 
 when on the very point of committing an act of the most intemperate vio- 
 lence, draw out his sword, and fall a whetting it as Shylock does his knife."* 
 Nothing however appears, we think, more natural than what the ballad 
 describes ; for though at the first onset the injured party may neither have 
 occasion, nor in his fury take time to put a keen edge on his weapon, yet 
 if opposed by a master of fence, he may before commencing a second bout, 
 and while gathering his wind, reasonably well amuse himself in the interval 
 by wiping his dripping blade — it will bite all the deeper for it. And it may 
 
 Popular Ballads and Songs, p. 13. 
 
XXIU 
 
 be remai'ked, that the expressions of iviping on the sleeve, drying on the 
 grass, aud slaiting otvre the strae, always occur iu such ballads as indicate 
 a dubious aud protracted and somewhat equal combat ; and I take it these ex- 
 pressions were meant to convey that idea to the mind, as opposed to cases 
 in which an individual has been overpowered by superior numbers, or as- 
 sassinated unawares. 
 
 This uniformity of phraseology in describing incidents of a similar nature 
 which pervades all our ancient ballads, might appeal* to argue a poverty 
 both of expression and invention in these Minstrel Poets ; but if the com- 
 positions were narratives of real facts produced on the spur of the occasion, 
 as in most cases we have ventured to suppose them to be, the use of such 
 common places becomes abundantly obvious. They not only assisted the 
 memory in an eminent degree, but served as a kind of ground-work, on 
 which the poem could be raised. With such common-places indelibly fixed 
 in his memory, the minstrel could with ease to himself, and with the rapid- 
 ity of extemporaneous delivery, rapidly model any event which came under 
 his cognizance into song. They were like inns or baiting places on a journey, 
 from one to the other of which he could speedily transport himself. They were 
 the general outlines of every class of human incident and suffering then ap- 
 propriated to song, and could be fitted easily to receive individual interest 
 as circumstances might require, and that without any painful stretch of 
 fancy or invention. Indeed the original production of these common-places 
 betokens no slender ingenuity on the part of these song inditers. They 
 were like a commodious garment that could be wrapped expeditiously 
 round every subject of whatever nature or dimensions. Something of the 
 same sort though in a less marked degree, may be discovered in the con- 
 struction of the longer metiical Romances— all arguing that the composition 
 of these pieces had been reduced to a certain system, and subjected to a 
 peculiar mechanism necessarily arising out of the circumstances under which 
 they were produced — and the incessant craving of the popular taste for novel 
 i ncident and fresh excitement. Besides these peculiar forms of expression, es- 
 tablished epithets, and variety of common-places, another mean of assisting 
 the memory', and preserving the character of the melody unchanged, was 
 adopted. This consisted in the burthens attached to the songs, many of 
 
XXVI 
 
 in the avidity with which the miserable rhymes, hawked about the streets, and 
 palmed off as the poetick effusions of notorious criminals under sentence 
 of death are perused, and the facility with which easy melodies are fitted 
 to them for the pm*pose of singing.* And it is a received proverb in our 
 language, no doubt derived from the times when Minstrelsy was in its me- 
 ridian glory, that there is no Geste like a real Geste ; in other words, that 
 there is no tale like a true tale. 
 
 While there is an ample store of ballads which appear to be referable to 
 real incident and matter of fact, those whi'.^h record what Gawin Douglas 
 has characterised as 
 
 " Wilde auentouris monstouris and quent afFrayis 
 Of uncouth^angeris,' ' 
 
 are comparatively few. But whether this class of songs, be as we have imagi- 
 ned them to be, no more than metrical relations of certain passages occun-ing 
 at different times in the great Drama of Human life, or whether they be the 
 veriest creations of the poet and the fabulist, it matters little, for whichever way 
 the fact stands, this much is certain, that theu' popularity has arisen from, and 
 their permanency among us, been owing, in no partial degree, to the received 
 and general impression that has obtained among the people of their origi- 
 nal derivation from historical sources. This, independently of the other at- 
 tractions which many of them possess, as simple and effective pieces of 
 poetick composition, has seated them firmly in the hearts and affections of 
 the people, and secured them for centuries from being swept away by the 
 more elaborated and artificial strains, which recent and succeeding times 
 have accumulated. 
 
 * The fables of the Ancients, that S^^ans become musical immsdiately before death, 
 would appear from this to have been not without meaning. " Macpherson's Rant, or the 
 Last Words of James M icpherson. Murderer — to its o.vn proper Tune," which was 
 printed on a broadside about 1701, is certainly the most extraordinary and energetick 
 composition that ever contemplation of a Gibbet inspired. In Herd's collection scarcely 
 more than one half of it is published, consequently several of its most powerful lines 
 must remain unknown to the general reader, till som3 one possessed of the broadside copy, 
 takes the trouble of reprinting it. Burns thought the subject worthy of his pen, and 
 wrote some lines entitled M icp'icrsons Limeiit ; but these convey an inadequate idea of 
 the rude strength — the savage fierceness, and vindictive spirit, wliich are characteristick 
 of the original, and little or none of that fearless scorn of Death and Hell, which every 
 now and then bursts forth in its closin^j verses. 
 
XXVll 
 
 It is well known by all who have personally undergone the pleasant 
 drudgery of gathering our traditionary song, that the old people who recite 
 these legends, attach to them the most unqualified and implicit belief. To 
 this circumstance may be ascribed the feeling and pathos with which they 
 are occasionally chaunted ; the audible sorrow that comes of deep and ho- 
 nest sympathy with the fates and fortunes of our fellow kind. In the spirit 
 too, with which such communications are made, in the same spirit must 
 they be received and listened to. The audacious sceptick, who, in the ple- 
 nitude of his shallow worldly wisdom, dared to question their being mat- 
 ter of incontrovertible fact, I may state for the information of those who 
 may hereafter choose to amuse themselves i^ the quest of olden song, 
 would eventfully find the lips of every veneraUe sybil in the land, most 
 effectually sealed to his future enquiries.* ■ Reciters, moreover, fire- 
 quently assign special localities, to the ancient ballads, which they gladly 
 indicate to the inquisitive, and to these they appeal as a triumphant re- 
 futation of every objection which learned scepticism may urge to the accu- 
 racy of the facts, thus traditionally preserved. The wood or the water, the 
 tower or the town, the castle or the kirk, the bridge or the bower, nay, 
 even the good oak tree, to which some doughty hero of elder times hath 
 leaned his back, and resolutely made good his quarrel against tremendous 
 odds, can all be singled out and shewn to be in perfect accordance with 
 the history as delivered in the ballad. It must be admitted, however, that 
 these localities are very accommodating, and that the evidence which they 
 afford is entitled to little or no weight. For, a ballad, when it has become a 
 favourite of the people in any particular district, is soon fitted with localities, 
 drawn from the immediate neighbourhood. This is more particularly the 
 case with any one which represents a class of similar compositions. Thus 
 Tomalin which may be looked on aa the representative of the whole class 
 of ballads relative to " Faerye " and which is claimed by the Editor of the 
 
 • From no discourteous motive, but from sheer ignorance of this important article of 
 belief, I have unfortunately for myself, once or twice notably affronted certain aged vir- 
 gins, by impertinent dubitations touching the veracity of their songs, an offence which 
 bitter experience will teach me to avoid repeating, as it has long ere this, made me rue 
 the day of its commission. 
 
xxnu 
 
 Border Minstrelsy, as a Selkirkshire ballad, ita which district it is stated to 
 be completely located, will be found clothed with every particular of lo- 
 cal habitation and name, in many other counties far distant from that 
 which has sought to attach it as exclusive property. 
 
 It has been usual to ascribe the composition of this large body of tradi- 
 tionary poetry to the Minstrels, an order of professional poets and musicians, 
 whose history from various causes is necessarily somewhat obscure, and 
 which till the time of Dr Percy, had been wholly neglected. The wide 
 diffusion of our ballads over every part of the country, both north and 
 south of the Tweed, and the various sets which are extant of these, would 
 (were there no intrinsick evidence afforded by these compositions themselves) 
 be amply corroborative and confirmatory of such an opinion. The minstrels 
 were, as one of their number informs us, accustomed to 
 
 — walken fer and wyde. 
 Her and ther in every syde, 
 In mony a diverse londe, 
 
 with harp in hand, and thereto singing or reciting, not only the Romance oj 
 
 price, but those more succinct and veratious narratives which have reached 
 
 to our time in the form of ballads. 
 
 Although at fii'st it was only in the halls of 
 
 Magnificat crownit kings in Majeste, 
 Princes, duces, and marquis curious, 
 Erlis, barronis, and knytis chevelrous, 
 And gentillmen of he genolege, 
 As scutiferais and squieris full courtlye,* 
 
 that was heard their " oft singing and sawis of solace ;" and where 
 
 Ermy deidis in auld dayis done befoir, 
 Croniculis, gestis, stories and mich moir, 
 
 were pleasantly discoursed of, even then, some small parcel of the " lofty 
 
 strain," would be remembered by the humbler retainers of the "Lordingis 
 
 and ladeis honorabil," for whose ear it was more peculiarly adapted, and 
 
 through them would gradually descend and be communicated to all the 
 
 inferior ramifications of feudal society. 
 
 f 
 
 * Cokelby's Sow, apud. Laing's Reliques of Early Scottish Poetry. 
 
XXIX 
 
 Rut when the age of chivalry passed away, and the Minstrel profession 
 
 declined in importance, or gradually assimilated itself to other callings, and 
 
 at length sunk into neglect and opprobrium, through the influence of causes 
 
 too numerous and foreign from our purpose to trace ; the lower ranks 
 
 of the people became, as is always the case, the rightful and undisputed 
 
 heirs of the cast-off tastes and literature of the higher orders. It was not 
 
 to be supposed, however, that all at once, they could either keenly relish or 
 
 appreciate, the more refined and elaborated productions of the Minstrel 
 
 muse. In fact, they could not understand them. At least we have the 
 
 authority of Robert de Brunne^ for hazarding this conjecture, who mentions 
 
 expressly, that he undertook his translation 
 
 For the luf of symple men, 
 That strange Inglis, cannot ken, 
 
 and that he made it 
 
 — noght for no disours, 
 Ne for seggouTs, nor harpoura, 
 
 whereas, had he indulged himself in the " quainte Inglis " of the Minstrels, 
 
 who addressed their productions " for Pride and Nobleye " 
 
 — fele men that it herde, 
 Suld not witte how that it ferde ; 
 
 and he concludes his introduction, by stating, that 
 
 — men besoght me many a tyme, 
 To turne it hot in light ryme ; 
 Thai seyd if I in strange ryme it tume. 
 To here it many on suld skurne ; 
 For in it ere names fuUe selcouthe 
 That ere not vsed now in mouthe ; 
 And therefore for the comonalte, 
 That blithely wild listen to me ; 
 On light lange I it began, 
 For luf of the lewed man. 
 
 Neither could the " commonalte " spare so much leisure as sufficed for the 
 recitation of pieces distinguished for prolixity, nor could their circumstances 
 enable them to remunerate the Disour, Seggom- or Harpour, for euch 
 
prolonged enjoyments.* These gentlemen, as appears by some of the monu- 
 ments they have left behind them, being noways shy of distinctly announc- 
 ing that they should be recompensed for their labours with " giftes bothe 
 reche and good," such as 
 
 Hors robis and reche ryng, 
 Gold, silver and othyr thyng, 
 To mende with her mode,-|- 
 
 and indeed every courteous knight who figures in their annals, they take 
 especial care to specify, derived no slender modicum of his renown from the 
 unbounded munificence and liberality he shewed to them. A simpler intel- 
 lectual fare, was therefore required for the palate of a rude audience, and 
 this the historical ballad supplied. Their stubborn sensibilities could only 
 be excited by narratives of real incident, suffering or adventure, distinctly, 
 plainly, and artlessly told. Witli confessedly fictitious woes, or fabulous 
 deeds, however brilliantly detailed, they could not sympathise — and a long 
 period elapsed after the Romance had ceased to be heard in the halls of 
 the great, before it found its way to the fireside of the hind and the artisan. 
 When it did find its way, however, it lived long in their remembrance — 
 traces of which can be discovered as late as the middle of last century.^ 
 
 * A groat was the customary fee for a fit of Minstrel mirth, as appears by Dr Percy's re- 
 searches, and a considerable sum in those days he has proved it to be. If it was an xviii 
 penny groat it could command not a few luxuries, as the following curious extract shews : 
 
 " In the yeir of God 1533, Sir Walter Coupar, chaplaine in Edinburghe, gate a pynte 
 
 of vyne, a laifFe of 36 vnce vaight, a peck of aite meill, a pynte of aill, a scheipe heaa, ane 
 penny candell, and a faire woman, for ane xviii penny grotte." Marjoreybank's Annals 
 of Scotland, Edin. 1814, p. 5. 
 
 -)- Romance of Sir Cleges. 
 
 X Sir Walter Scott in his article entitled " Romance," in the late supplement to the 
 Encyclopaedia Britannica, mentions that, about fifty or sixty years since a person acquired 
 the nickname of Roswal and Lillian from sirging that Romance about the streets of Edin- 
 burgh, which is probably the very last instance of the proper minstrel craft." This fact is 
 also referred to by Dr Leyden, in his introduction to the complaynt of Scotland. See also 
 Mr Laing's interesting volume entitled, " Early Metrical Tales," Edin. 1826. Of the 
 existence of MSS. Romances in Scotland at an early period, and of the esteem in which 
 they were held, the research of the learned editor of the last mentioned work, presents us 
 with this valuable notice — " Sir James Douglas of Dalkeith, the ancestor of tne Earls of 
 Morton, in his Last Will and Testament, dated in the year 1390, bequeaths to his son 
 and heir, ' Omnes Libros meos tam Statutokum Regni Scocie quam Romancie.'" 
 Preface, p. iv. 
 
XXXI 
 
 Portions of these Romances it is probable were fron) time to time de- 
 tached, and presented in tlie shape of ballads to the people. It is certain, 
 if we are to believe Thomas Hearne, that metrical chronicles, like Robert of 
 Gloucester, and Peter Langtoft, were thus disjointed, and sung or recited as 
 ballads to the people,* and there is nothing improbable in supposing that 
 the voluminous Cronykil of Andro of Wuitown, was in Scotland broken up, 
 and doled forth to the " commonalte," in the same compendious form. 
 The tales of " Skail Gillenderson," and that of the " Three Weird Sisters," 
 
 IAvhich are mentioned in the Complaynt of Scotland, and which are now- 
 supposed to be entirely lost, I have little hesitation in my own mind when 
 I sav, that the oirtlines of both these tales, are to be found in Wintown.f 
 
 ■ " For notwithstanding most people then, (as well as they are now,) were very desirous 
 of hearing the acts of their famous ancestors related, yet much the greater part were not 
 of ability to get compleat Copies of this Book, and for that reason were contented with 
 Transcripts of some particular stories out of it, which for recreation (a thing aimed at by 
 Kobert of Brunne,) they used to recite, and very often to sing by way of Ballads. Which 
 method we ought not to wonder at, since our more ancient Ballads, were nothing but 
 such Rhythmical Historical accounts, done by persons of note for learning, who proposed 
 Trusts in their Relations : and such Relations were stiled ancient (GcStS, which word 
 Gests was opposed to the French stiomailtC, a word it seems that was applyed to what- 
 ever History was compiled in French Rhythm.s." Preface to Langtoft's Chronicle, page 
 xxxvii. 
 
 f See Book VI. cap. XVIII. and Book VII. cap. VII. Dr Leyden thinks 
 it probable, that Skail GiUendei sen may be a corruption of Scald GUlenderson, 
 and therefore concludes it to be " a Scandic Story." I nt reduction to Complaynt 
 of Scotland, p. 270, an opinion which might not have been impugned, had he at the same 
 tim.e, pointed out any Northern Saga or ballad, which bore that title. Had any such ex- 
 isted, it is likely that Mr Jamieson would have noticed the fact ere this time. But I sus- 
 pect there is a misprint in the Complaynt, and that in place of " Skail Gillenderson the 
 King's son of Skellye," we should read Skail Gillcnders sinie : the king sune U skail ye, 
 being the commencement or some prominent passage in the original ballad, or whatever it 
 was. Or " SkaU Gillenders sune," may be one distinct tale, and " The King's Son of 
 Skellye," may be another. The Songs mentioned in the Complaynt, were first noticed 
 by Dr M'Kenzie, in his " Lives of Scottish Writers," vol. iii. p. 44, and a misprint in the 
 title of one of these, posed antiquaries not a little. " Cou thou me the raschis grene," was 
 transfonr.ed by him mto " couthume the rashis grene," and this corruption stood till the 
 right reading was restored by Ritson in the Dissertation prefixed to "• Ancient Songs," p. 
 liii. Taking Leyden's edition of the Complaynt to be a perfectly accurate reprint of the 
 original, it is not impossible that either some error in the punctuation or some other of a 
 more formidable character may have crept into the original itself. The story of Gillen- 
 dyrs, as told by Wintown is this : 
 
 A. D. 1158. Quhen the Kyng 3Ialcome [IV.] come agayne 
 
 Of hys Legis mad hym a Trayne : 
 
 A i\Iaster-man cald Feretawche, 
 
 With Gyllandrys, Ergemawche, 
 
xxxu 
 
 That the chronicle was originally meant for being sung, there can be little 
 doubt, from the allusions interspersed through it. The expression " That 
 was the matere of our Gle," which frequently occurs, warrants us in draw- 
 ing this inference, and other expressions of a similar import, also occurring 
 in the work, confirm it. 
 
 " In the repetition of an unskilful reciter," says Dr Leyden, in his intro- 
 duction to the complaynt of Scotland, "the metrical romance or fabliau 
 seems often to have degenerated in a popular story, and it is a curious fact, 
 that the subjects of some of the popular stories which I have heard repeated 
 in Scotland, do not diflPer essentially from those of some of the ancient Nor- 
 man fabliaux presented to the public in an elegant form by Le Grand. Thus 
 when I first perused the fabliau of the Poor Scholar, the Three Thieves, and 
 the Sexton of Cluni, I was surprised to recognize the popular stories which 
 I have often heard repeated in infancy, and which I had often repeated my- 
 self, when the song or the tale recited by turns amused the tedious evenings 
 of Winter. From this circumstance, I am inclined to think that many of 
 the Scottish popular stories may have been common to the Norman French. 
 Whether these tales be derived immediately from the French during their 
 long uninterrupted intercourse with the Scottish nation, or whether both 
 nations borrowed them from the Celtic, may admit of some doubt." As 
 to the original source from which these stories have flowed, the reader 
 
 And othir Master-men, thare fyve 
 
 Agayne the Kyng, than ras belywe, 
 
 For caws that he past til Twlows, 
 
 Agayne hym thai ware all irows : 
 
 Forthi thai set thame, hym to ta, 
 
 Intil Perth or than hym sla ; 
 
 Bot the Kyng rycht manlyly, 
 
 Swnc skalyd all that company. 
 
 And tuk and si we. 
 This insurrection which arose among the Scottish nobility, through their jealousy of the 
 friendly footing, existing between their Sovereign and Henry II. of England, appears to 
 have been of considerable magnitude. It is noticed by Fordun. see Scotichronicon, Lib. 
 VIII. cap. IV., who only gives the name however, of Fcrchard comes de Stratherru 
 GiUendrys at that period was no uncommon name in Scotland, for in another part of his 
 chronicle, Winton has recorded Maldowny mak GiUandrys, as a Bishop of St. Andrews. 
 On looking to the poems from the Maitland WSS. edited by the late Mr Pinkerton, I 
 find he has suggested the very passage above quoted, as referring to the tale of Skail Gil- 
 lenderson, and it is some satisfaction to be supported by an authority so respectable in a 
 matter so dubious. 
 
XXXUl 
 
 need scarcely be told, bow utterly useless all conjecture becomes ; the same 
 stories or but sligbtly varied, we find everywhere, and in every language, 
 the popular vehicles of amusement or instruction to the people. Countries 
 far separated from each other and having no affinity of language, still pre- 
 serve this identity in their popular tales. And where these have disap- 
 peared in a measure from the literature of a people, we may rest assured 
 that their vestiges can still be traced in the legends of the Nursery. 
 
 " Many of the wild romantic ballads which are still common in the Low- 
 lands of Scotland," continues the same writer, " have the appearance of 
 episodes, which, in the progress of traditional recitation, have been detached 
 from the romances of which they originally formed a part. Several of the 
 ancient songs in the Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, and in the Min- 
 strelsy of the Border, are of this description. The popular songs which 
 relate to dragons and monsters, authenticate their legitimate derivation from 
 the tales of chivalry. Another class of popular songs, which describe the 
 unnatural involvement of the passion of Love, may, with piopricty, be 
 referred to the ancient romances. Such are Lizie Wan, The Bonny Hind, 
 The Broom Blooms Bonny, the Broom Blooms Fair."* 
 
 It becomes, however, a question, whether these ballads, thus refera- 
 ble to Ancient Romance, were themselves not the first elements of the very 
 compositions from which they are now bypothetically derived. Instead of 
 being episodes or fragments of the Romance detached from the parent stock, 
 iu the coiuse of traditional recitation, or an abstract of it, made in later 
 times for behoof of the lower classes, the ballad may have been the seedling 
 from which the other derived its being. Of the remote beginnings of our 
 Metrical Romances, we positively know nothing; but we have the evidence 
 of history to vouch for the attachment, which the different people, among 
 whom Romance subsequently flourished, had for the ancient songs which 
 
 • Hynd Home, Tamlane, Kempion, and Fair Annie are all, it is believed, which can 
 satisfactorily establish their derivation from the source now pointed out ; but it is probable, 
 that were our knowledge on this subject more extended, many other ballads current 
 among us could be traced to a like origin. As for the other class of popular songs re- 
 ferred to by Dr. Leyden, it appears to me more probable that romance has been indebted 
 to them rather than the reverse. 
 
 e 
 
XXXIV 
 
 celebrated the actions of their ancestors. In the progress of time^ these he- 
 roick narratives would increase, and as one country became, either by alliance 
 or war, more intimate with the history and traditions of its neighbours, its 
 native song would embrace a wider range of subjects, and be in some mea- 
 sure blended with that of the people to which it stood most immediately 
 connected, or with which, at some future period, it came to be politically in • 
 corporated. Thus, long ere the first of the Metrical Narratives, known by 
 the general term of Romances was heard of, a body of historick poesye was 
 extant, not only embracing the exploits of particular heroes, but commemo- 
 rating national triumphs. Men, who in their publick character have occupied 
 a prominent place in their country's annals, naturally attract a proportionate 
 degree of interest and curiosity towards their domestick or private history. 
 Hence another series of historick songs is produced, for, whatever power- 
 fully interests human affection, or rouses human passion, as naturally breaks 
 forth into song, as the stream flows, or the sun shines. 
 
 Materials, of this varied and interesting description, had time accumulated 
 in every country where Romance, at an after period, formed the only intel- 
 lectual solace of its martial inhabitants. As society advanced in refinement, 
 and the rudeness and simplicity of earlier ages partially disappeared, the 
 Historick Ballad, like the butterfly bursting the crust of its chrysalis state, 
 and expanding itself in winged pride under the gladdening and creative in- 
 fluence of warmer suns and more genial skies, became speedily transmuted 
 nto the Romance of Chivalry. In the history of poetry, the transition from 
 J. ict to fiction is easy as it is instantaneous. Like Coleridge's night, ''at 
 { le stride comes the dark." One fertile source of the fabulous, arises from 
 tl ? metaphors and figures of an imaginative age, receiving in ignorant, dull, 
 an 1 prosaick times a literal interpretation. Again ; the exaggerations natu- 
 ral to an excited state of feeling — the desperate struggle of the soul wrestling 
 wii \ its own grand but dim conceptions, and endeavoui"ing to give them a 
 sul tanfive shape, so as to suit the apprehensions of others, ere language 
 has ully unfolded its capabilities, and become rich in abstract terms and 
 logic 1 distinctions, are the means of introducing no slender portion of fable, 
 into Mie early annals of a country, and of giving to its traditionary literature. 
 
XXXV 
 
 the warmth and brilliancy of Romantiok embellishment. Even those tales 
 of monstrous worms, dragons, and hippogrifFs; of giants nieasuring full 
 fifteen feet in length, or of dwarfs scarce three span long; with all which 
 the Romance of the middle ages teems, can, in some measure, be traced to 
 this source. In truth, the most extravagant creations in this vein have had 
 some prototype, in fact or in nature, at one time; however difficult it may 
 now be, to recognize and detect the minute and meagre original, under the 
 superincumbent load of splendid and fanciful decoration, with which the 
 genius and taste of many subsequent ages, have successively beautified and 
 disguised it. All facts in the lapse of time become fables, and the converse 
 of the proposition, that all fables have been originally facts, is equally true. 
 That the Romance of Chivalry was the legitimate descendent of the He- 
 roick Ballad, appears sufficiently obvious, from this single fact, that the taste 
 for enjoying, and of course producing, these fictitious narratives, broke out in 
 each country of Europe, as it successively anived at that point of refinement, 
 which required mental excitement to cherish and keep in activity its war- 
 like and chivalrous propensities. The heroes whom the iSIinstrels chose for 
 their versifications, were uniformly selected from those worthies of antiquity, 
 whose names and famous actions, the traditions and ancient songs of the 
 land, still kept in remembrance. These again were occasionally supplanted by 
 others, who flourished in more recent times, and even contemporary war- 
 riors at last came in for their share of adulation, and of that glory with which 
 the muse can arrest and halo an otherwise fleeting name. But the origin 
 of Romantick Fiction, instead of being thus sought for in the traditions of 
 each particular land, where it obtained, and being looked on, as the natural 
 intellectual growth of that land, at a certain stage of its progress towards re- 
 finement, and the courtesies of life, and as step by step, advancing from the 
 simple narrative ballad, to the more elaborate composition, which embraced a 
 variety of such narratives, and at length bourgeoned and branched out into all 
 those complicated and fictitious adventures and singular poetick creations for 
 which the Metrical Romance is distinguished, has with much learning and in- 
 genuity, been by different wi-iters traced to a variety of opposite and contra- 
 dictory sources. One hath assigned it a Scandina\nan, another an Arabian, 
 
XXXVl 
 
 a third an Armorican origin, while others have claimed this distinction for 
 Normandy and Provence. To examine into the merit of these respective 
 hj'potheses is foreign from our present purpose, but to ascribe to any one of 
 them the sole origin of that stupendous fabrick of poetical invention wliich 
 delighted the middle ages, would be as foolish as the simple shepherd's 
 thought, who after tracing with affectionate fondness, the windings of liis 
 slender native stream, till he found it terminate in the ocean sea, deemed 
 the limitless expanse of waters before him, no other than the accumulations 
 of the small well spring, which, in the solitude of the far uplands, he knew 
 full well, did morning and evening, hum its tiny song, and gush with 
 the gladness of new born life, in a silver-like thread, down the dai-k hill 
 side. 
 
 Each of the systems, it is true, does in part satisfactorily account for this 
 species of poetick compositions, but it would require them all blended to- 
 gether, to obviate every objection which applies to each singly. Supposing, 
 however, that the Metrical Romance, is, as already mentioned, but "the 
 elongation of the Heroick Ballad, produced gradually in the course of years, 
 by the m^eans slightly hinted above, all the difficulties and contradictious 
 into which an adlierence to any one of the theories now enumerated, would 
 eventually involve such an enquiry, can never occur. It is while in its 
 transition state, that the Metrical Romance of one country, readily receives 
 and incorporates into itself the traditions and fictions of anotlier, and wliile 
 it receives, it likewise imparts a portion of its own peculiar character, to the 
 Romance of the other. Thus the spirit of the whole becomes alike, and the 
 more the intercourse is, which subsists politically between different nations, 
 the closer becomes the resemblaoce in their Romance ; and the rate of ex- 
 change, so far as fact and fable, traditionary lore, and poetical fictions, are 
 concerned, stands pretty much at par. 
 
 V In Scotland, the feudal system, and the institutions of chivalry, subsisted 
 longer in force, than in the southern portion of the island ; and for this rea- 
 son, I am inchncd to think, that the Minstrels occupied a reputable footing 
 in society, longer than their brethren of the south. In 1471, they are classed 
 along with "Knychlis and Heraldis," and with such as could spend "a 
 
XXXVll 
 
 Lundretlit pounds wortlit of landis rent."* Blind Harry, the only one of 
 their number whose works we can refer to, appears to liave in his person, 
 come up to the notion we are led to form of the life and business of the an- 
 cient minstrel. He chaunted his heroick strains before the princes and the 
 nobles of the land.f From the long poem which he has left, relative to Sir 
 William Wallace, we have an instance of the diligence with which the pro- 
 fessed iNIinstrel gathered the detached traditionary songs of the people, and ^ 
 wove them into a continuous poem. Even so late as the time of King James 
 the VI., in which a number of sapient acts are passed, and among others, 
 some fierce enactments against the whole class of maisterfuU and ydill beg- 
 garis, sornaris, fulis, bairdis, SiC. there is an express provision in favour of 
 the Minstrels of great lords and the Minstrels of towus.ij: As the profession 
 of a INIinstrel authorised a wandering life, and ensured a welcome wliereso- 
 ever he should sojourn, it was one of the first to be assumed by that numerous 
 class of idlers, and broken men, who in a state undergoing vital changes in 
 
 " Item, it is statut and ordanit in this present parlyament, that considering the gret 
 powerte of the Realme, the gret expensses and cost mad apon the brynging of silkis in the 
 Keaime, that thar for na man sal weir silkis in tyme cummyng, in gown, doublate and 
 clokis, except knychtis, menstrallis, and herraldis, without that the werar of the samyn, 
 may spend a huiidretht pundis wortht of landis rent under the payn of am.erciament to 
 the king of x lib als oft as thai ar fundjn and eschetin of the samyn, to be gevyn to the 
 herraldis or menstrallis, except the clathis that ar mad befor this parlyament. &c. Acta 
 Parliamentorum Jacobi III. A. D. 1471. 
 
 -|- Qui historiarum recitatione coram principibus, victum et vestitum quo dignus erat, 
 nactus est. Major Lib. iv. Cap. 'S.V. 
 
 X And that it may be knawin quhat maner of personis ar meanit to be ydill and Strang 
 be^faris, and vagaboundis, and \sorthy of the pvniscment befoir specifiit. It is dedarit, 
 that^'all ydill personis, gaying about in ony cuntre of this realme, vsing swbtile, crafty, 
 and unlauchfuU playis. As iuglerie, fast and lowiss, and sic vtheris The ydill people 
 calling thame s^lfEs Egiptianis, Or ony vther that ftnzeis thame to have knawlege in phis- 
 nomie, palmestre, or viheris abused sciencis, quhairby tbay perswade the people that they 
 can tell thair weardis deathis and fortunes and sic vther fantasticall ymagmationis And 
 all personis being haill and stark in body and abill to wirk Allegeing to have benehereit 
 in the sowthland brint in the lait trowbles about Edinburgh and Leith Or allegeing 
 thame to be bi-nneist for slauchter or vtheris wickit deidis, and vtheris nowther having 
 land nor maister, nor vsing ony lauchfuU marchandice, craft or oceupatioun. quhairby to win 
 thair levingis and can gif na rckning how they lauchfullie get thair leving. And all men- 
 stralis, sangstaris, and taill tellaris not avowit in speciall service be sum of the lordis of 
 parliament or grcit barronis, or be the heid burrowis and citeis. for thair common men- 
 stralis All comoun labouraris being personis abill in body leving ydillie and fleing 
 Jaubour. All counterfaittaris of licencis to beg OR using of the same, knowing thame to 
 
XXXVIU 
 
 its political features^ like Scotland at the time we speak of, would rather 
 starve than be compelled to work^ and at all times would prefer sorning 
 on their neighbours, than being forced to do either. But, if, as has been 
 shewn, till a recent period, there were favourable conditions in our legisla- 
 tive enactments, for the Minstrel, the Bards,* who too overran the country, 
 and doubtless sang in the Gaelic tongue of Fin Mak Coul, and Govv Mac- 
 Morne, and the whole descendents, direct and collateral, of that gigantick 
 race, were ti'eated with no sucli gentleness. On them, the rigour and the 
 pains of law, fell with undiscriminating violence. A vagabond, thief, coun- 
 terfeit, limmer, and bard were synonymous. Dunbar in his flyting, styles 
 Kennedy, a native of Carrick, " a brybour Bard." And it is a curious fact 
 that in the West of Scotland, Renfrewshire at least, the phrase bardi/, a 
 word of common occurrence, is used to signify impudent, rude, uncivil, 
 forward, or quarrelsome. 
 
 Though legends relating to the Fingalian Cyclus of Heroes, and fables of 
 King Arthur, and the chivalry of the Table Round, were one time popular in 
 the Lowlands of Scotland, it is not a little remarkable, that not the slightest 
 vestige of them is now to be found in our ancient ballads.-j- I believe, how- 
 ever, that in some nursery tales, traces of Celtick traditions can be dis- 
 
 be counterfaitit. All vagaboundis, scollaris of the vniuersiteis of Saiict Androis, Glasgow, 
 and Abirdene, not licencitbe the Rector and Deneof Facultie of the Universitie to ask al- 
 mous. Alt schipmen and marinaris, allegeing thame selHis te be schip-broken without 
 thay have testimoniallis as is heirefter declarit, Salbe takin, adiugeit, demed, and puneist 
 as Strang beggaris, and vagaboundis. 
 
 * To our fathers time and ours something remained and still does of this ancient order. 
 And they are called by others and by themselves jockies, who go about begging, and use 
 still to recite the sluggornes of most of the true ancient sirnames of Scotland, from old ex- 
 perience and observation. Some of them 1 have discoursed with, and found to have rea- 
 son and discretion. One of them told me there were not now twelve of them in the whole 
 isle ; but he remembered when they abounded so as at one time he was one of five that 
 usuallie met at St. Andrews. Martines' Reliquiae Divi Andreee, p. 3. Jockey appears 
 to be derived from Joculator. 
 
 *f- It is said that Fynmxikcoule, the sonne of Coelus Scottisman, was in thir dayes ; ane 
 man ofhugestatoure, of xvii cubits of hicht. He was ane gret huntar, and richt terribi], 
 for his huge quantite, to the pepill : of quhome ar mony vulgar fabillis amang us, nocht 
 unlike to thir fabillis that ar rehersit of King Arthure. And becaus his dedis is nocht 
 authorist be autentik authoris, I will rehers na thing thair of. Croniklis of Scotland the 
 sevent buke, chap. 18. 
 
XXXIX 
 
 cerned, and among the rhymes of children used in their games, there are 
 yet a few scraps which refer to King Arthur.* 
 
 The ballad poetry of England and Scotland, has been at one time so 
 much alike, that it is difficult, if not impossible, to discriminate between 
 what truly may be considered as the native production of the one or the other. 
 To lay down any general law for ascei-taining their respective rights of pro- 
 perty, in literature of this desciiptlon, is therefore impracticable. If England 
 exhibits ancient manuscripts in which these ballads are contained, Scotland 
 proves immemorial possession of them, by oral transmission even to the 
 present times. The claims of either party in this way, appear pretty equally 
 balanced. 
 
 Ritson, with that scrupulous scepticism, for which his \viitings are gene- 
 rally remarkable, reluctantly admits that the following may be considered as 
 INIinstrel Ballads peculiar to England, viz. 
 
 1 The Battle of Chevy Chace. 
 
 2 The Battle of Otterbourne. 
 
 3 Little Musgrave and Lady Bernard. 
 
 4 Lord Thomas and Fair Eleanor. 
 
 5 Fair Margaret and Sweet William. 
 
 6 John Dory. 
 
 7 John Armstrong. 
 
 8 Captain Care. 
 
 " Being all of this kind " he adds, " known to exist ;" for Mr Rit- 
 son long pertinaciously denied the existence of the MS., from which 
 Dr. Percy gave a number of the ballads published in the Reliques. 
 This list is but scanty, and little would either country have to boast 
 of its eaily Minstrelsy, were its limits to be thus circumscribed by the 
 
 " It is written that Arthure tuke great delectatioun in wersling of Strang kempis, hav- 
 and them in sic familiarite, that quhen he usit to dine, or tuke consultatioun in his weris, 
 he gart thaim sit down v.ith him in.maner of ane round crown, that nane of thum suld be 
 preferrit till otheris in dignite : for quhilkis his seit was callit The Round Tabil. And 
 thoucht his vailyeant dedis wer worthy to have memorie, yet the vulgare fabillis quhilkis 
 at fenyeit of the samin lies violat thair fame, and makis thaim to have the less credence. 
 Cron. of Scotland the Nint buke, cap. II. 
 
xl 
 
 mere asseveration of learned petulance, and constitutional irratibility. Of 
 the eight ballads selected by Ritson as those " which according to 
 the rules laid down by Dr Percy, may" as the critick observes, " be 
 supposed to have been written and sung to the harp," six are traditionally 
 preserved ia Scotland viz. the 2, 3, 4, 5, 7 and 8, and these with such 
 variations as may entitle them to be looked on as the composition of a na- 
 tive Minstrel, not adopted songs. At all events it shews the early inter- 
 community of song, which existed between the countries, and the perfect 
 identity of their popular poetry. 
 
 In the writings of the early English Dramatists, especially Shakspeare, 
 Beaumont and Fletcher, we find numberless snatches of ancient ditties in- 
 troduced, with an effect singularly felicitous, and allusions made to others 
 of whose existence we have now no other evidence. Most of them appear 
 to have been also common to Scotland, and some of them certainly the pro- 
 duction of her Minstrels.* 
 
 In the reign of Elizabeth and James VI, the Minstrel ballads of England 
 began to be superseded in vulgar affection by a more ambitious class of si- 
 milar compositions written purposely for the press by sundry indefatigable 
 small poets, of that prolifick day. The chief balladmongers of said period 
 
 * In " The Knight of the Burning Pestle," old Merrythought gives this verse evident- 
 ly a portion of a Scottish Song, both in subject and style, perhaps it may have belonged to 
 some edition of the popular ballad of " The Laird of Logie "— 
 
 She c.res not for her mammy, nor 
 She cares not for her daddy, for 
 
 She is, she is, she is, 
 ]My lord of Lowgave's lassie. 
 
 The same blythe old fellow sings this stanza, which is to be found in some sets of the 
 Douglas Tragedy, and in an unedited ballad I have heard recited called " Lord Thomas 
 and Lady Margaret." 
 
 He set her on a milk white steed. 
 
 And himself upon a grey. 
 He never turned his face again, 
 
 But he'bore her quite away. 
 
 In the " Two Noble Kinsmen," the Jailer's daughter sings part of a song beginning — 
 " The George alowe came from the south," regarding which, commentators are silent 
 though I suspect it is the same song, as one that is still known in Scotland by the name of 
 the " Turkish Galley," or the " Lowlands Low." 
 
 I 
 
xli 
 
 have been enumerated by Percy and Ritson. These caterers for popular 
 taste seem to have considered but few of tlie ancient ballads worthy of re- 
 novation; and such as they did adopt, were subjected to a fiery ordeal which 
 tamed their spirit, and left them with passhig little of their original charac- 
 ter. In speaking of a ballad, styled " The doleful death of Queen Jane, 
 wife to King Henry VIII," the editor of the collection where it appears, 
 after mentioning that it was written in the Reign of King James I. observes 
 that " that age so abounded with Poets, that we owe almost half of our 
 Historical Ballads to it. Not that I believe they were first written at that 
 Time ; but the language of 'em being grown very obsolete, it was then re- 
 fin'd, and the songs put into a new and more fashionable Dress. We are 
 told by some criticks, that we are not so much beholden to the Number of 
 Poets who lived In that time, as to the number of Scots, King James 
 brought over with him ; for our English Bards, fearing the nation would 
 be overrun with Scotchmen, and then the memory of our worthies, wovdd 
 perish ; took care to revive all their Historical Ballads, and to disperse 'em 
 amongst the people, not only to transmit their actions to posterity, but that 
 the latest ages might see we did not owe o"ur origin to the Scots."* This 
 if true was very patriotick ; but it is a thousand pities that those who took 
 the trouble of white washing the face of the time sullied song of their na- 
 tive land had not more taste and judgment, than what appears to have fallen 
 to their share. 
 
 The favourite ballads were again collected into penny Garlands in the ti- 
 tles of which their several editors seem to have tortured their ingenuity to 
 some purpose.f These were frequently reprinted and numbers of them as 
 well as single ballads, have beeu preserved in various collections.:}; Till 
 
 • A collection of Old BaUads. Lend. 1726. Vol. ii. p. 118. 2d Edit. 
 
 -f Percy's Reliques. Ritson's Ancient Songs, &c. 
 
 J The famous Pepysian collection of old ballads, at IMagdalen College, Cambridge, 
 in 5 volumes, contains two apparently of Scottish extraction, viz. The " Elfin Knight," 
 which will be printed in this volume — and the '" Lord of Lorn," a worthkss piece as -.ve 
 are informed by Kitson. This collection may be found to contain more, were itcxamired 
 by one skilled in the traditionary poetry of Scotland. Another collection, matchless of its 
 
xlii 
 
 about 1712, ballads were, both in England and Scotland, printed on broad- 
 sides ; since then they have pretty generally assumed the book form, which 
 has continued the established mode of printing them ; though from this prac- 
 tice there are frequent deviations. Ballads intended for being sung through 
 the streets, are still printed on one side of a narrow slip of paper ; but those 
 meant for being vended through the country by the worshipful fi-aternity of 
 Flying Stationers, have the honour of being made up into the Book form. 
 
 The historick ballads of Scotland will not detain us long. Indeed we 
 possess but very few ancient monuments of this description of song. That at 
 one time, there existed a large body of heroick ditties, commemorative of 
 national struggles, and personal adventure, is unquestionable ; but with the 
 events which produced them, these warlike strains have passed into obli- 
 vion. In the pages of our early chronicles, incidental allusions to these songs 
 sometimes occur, but these notices are ever meagre and unsatisfactory, for 
 it would seem, that the " learned clerks," who compiled oui' authentick an- 
 nals, had little sympathy with the tastes of the " lewd vulgare," and seldjom 
 deigned to pretermit the labours of their own cunning pen, for the sake of 
 recording a popular rhyme. For these " short and simple annals," they had 
 no relish, and it is questioned, if modern historians are one whit more con- 
 descending. 
 
 The first allusion we find to Historical Songs, relates to William, brother 
 
 kind, and perhaps exceeding that above noticed, is the far renowned Roxburghe collection 
 in three volumes, and abounding in many curious pieces of early Scottish poetry. It has 
 the ballad of Glenlivat. A collection formed by the late Mr Baynes the friend of Ritson, 
 in two volumes is in the possession of Mr Douce — Another collection of these things is 
 in the British, and a iifth in the Ashmolean i\luseum. The editor regrets that he knows 
 none of the collections now enumerated by personal inspection; but he believes that they 
 contain few, very few, of what are the real ancient minstrel ballads, of the country, and 
 this opinion he forms from the great quantity of sad trash to be found in works whose 
 materials are professedly derived from these sources. Scotland is unfortunately destitute 
 of any similar collections. In the Advocates' Library, there is one consisting of about 
 70 pieces, all apparently of English growth, with the exception of one entitled, " The 
 West Country Wager, or the merry Broomfield," a traditionary fragment of which Herd 
 gave under the title of "■ I'll wager, I'll wager, I'll wager with you," and which was af- 
 terwards published in a more complete form in the Border Minstrelsy, with the title of the 
 " Broomfield Hill." The song is popular still, and is often to be met with. In a catalogue 
 of John Stevenson, Bookseller, Edinburgh, 1827, occurs a very curious collection of bal- 
 lads and other pieces, mostly printed at Edin. between 1689 and 1700. 
 
xlili 
 
 of King Achaius, one of the douceperes of Charlemagne, and who " con- 
 queist," says Bellenden, " be his manheid and prowes, sic fame that he was 
 callit 'TheKnicht but Reproche/ in all his weris^and got sic riches and landis 
 that he was gretumly renownit amang the princiss of France," *' It is he," says 
 Hume of Godscroft, " who is named in songs made of him, Scottish Gil- 
 more." This the historian of the Douglasses^ gives on the authority of Ma- 
 jor, whose words, however, as Mr Finlay has observed, hardly admit of such 
 a construction, they are " Qui a nostratibus vulgaliter Scotisgilmor vo- 
 catur." " May we presume then," continues the same writer, " that since 
 the expression vulgaliter vacatur when applied to Gilmore, appeared to 
 Hume's mind equivalent to, is named in songs, tliese songs must have 
 been still current in the days of the later historian,* or can we only con- 
 clude, that at the time when Major wrote (about 1508,) he was still a po- 
 pular hero in Scotland." The ingenious doubt, thus started, we cannot 
 resolve ; but this only is certain, that whatever these songs were, or when- 
 soever current, every vestige of them hath disappeared from our tradition- 
 ary poetry. 
 
 " Robin Hood and his fallow litiil John," were popular with the Min- 
 strels of Scotland as they were with those of England. Our early Poets and 
 Historians never tire of alluding to songs cun-ent in their own times, rela- 
 tive to these waithraen and their merry men. Even to this day there are 
 fragments of songs regarding them, traditionally extant in Scotland, which 
 have not yet found their way into any printed collection of ballads, comme- 
 morative of these celebrated outlaws. Were they carefully gathered, they 
 would form an interesting addition to " Ritson's Robin Hood." In that col- 
 lection the ballad of " Robin Hood and the beggar," is evidently the produc- 
 tion of a Scottish Minstrel. Pretty early stall copies of which, were printed 
 both at Aberdeen and Glasgow. 
 
 What Coleridge has characteristically styled, " The grand old Ballad of 
 Sir Patrick Spens," has undoubtedly a right to be classed among our His- 
 
 " Bellenden's Boece, 10 Buke, cap. 4. History of the Family of Douglas. Major liib 
 cap. II. 13. Finlay's BaUads, Vol. I. p. 12. 
 
 /2 
 
xliv 
 
 torick Songs. It has been referred to the times of Alexander III,, and in 
 the prefix thereto in this collection, the opinion hitherto entertained of its al- 
 luding- to the bringing home of the Maiden of Norway has been challenged 
 and in place thereof, it has been suggested, that the song commemorates the 
 disastrous shipwreck, which awaited the return of a number of those noble- 
 men, who formed the retinue of Margaret, when she was mamed to Erick 
 of Norway. Her marriage is thus noticed by Wintoun. 
 
 A. D. 1281. The nest yhere foluand 
 
 The Kyngis Douchtyr of Scotland, 
 This Alysandrys the thryd that fayre May, 
 Wyth the King wes weddyt of Norway. 
 ]Margret scho wes callyd be name, 
 Commendyt fayre, and of gud fame. 
 Of August that yhere the twelft day, 
 Hyr wayage scho tuk on til Norway. 
 In the assumptyowne of our Lady, 
 Scho thare ressawyd wes honorably. 
 Suppos, of caws as hyr behowyd 
 Swa fra hyr kyn scho wes removyd, 
 Hir Hart stad in gret hewynes ; 
 With honowre yheit scho ressawyd wes. 
 
 Between the time occupied in the voyage, as given by the Historian, and 
 that dascribed in the ballad, there is a remarkable coincidence : 
 
 They hoysed their sails on JMonenday morn, 
 
 Wi a' the speed they may, 
 They hae landed in Norroway, 
 
 Upon a Wodeusday. 
 
 There being only a day of difference in their reckoning; for the assump- 
 tion of our lady falls on the 15th of August ; even the days of the week do 
 not disagree, for I find from a laborious calculation, that the 12th of Au- 
 gust, 1282, was a Monday. 
 
 The variations iu recited copies of the ballad, are exceedingly numerous, 
 and some are of considerable beauty. In Mr Buchan's " Gleanings of An- 
 cient Ballads, p. 19S," four stanzas are given additional to the set printed 
 
 I 
 
xlv 
 
 in the Border Minstrelsy. In another copy of tlie ballad, I have found a 
 mermaid introduced at the commencement of the storm in these words. 
 
 Upstarted the mermaid by the ship, 
 
 Wi' a glass and a kame in her hand, 
 Says — Reek about, reek about, my merry men, 
 
 Ve are not very far from land. 
 Ye lie, ye lie, ye bonny mermaid, 
 
 Sae loud as I hear you lie. 
 For sin I hae seen your face this night. 
 
 The land I will never see. 
 
 And another verse describes the magnificence of the bark Sir Patrick com- 
 manded, in a style similar to what occurs in romance : — 
 
 Their ship it was a goodly ship, 
 
 Its topmast was of gowd, 
 And at ilka tack o' needle wark, 
 
 A silver bell itjowed. 
 
 In another version of the ballad there is a bold recklessness displayed on 
 the part of the hero, which does not appear in the other copies yet printed. 
 Sir Patrick and his crew, like some reckless pirates mentioned in Dam- 
 pier's Voyage, meet their fate with a hurra and a brimming cup in their 
 band. 
 
 Drink, O drink, my merrie men all. 
 
 Drink of the beer and wine O, 
 For gin Wodensday by twall o* the clock, 
 
 We'll all be in our lang hame (). 
 And aye they sat, and aye they drank. 
 
 They drank o' the beer and wine O, 
 And gin Wodensday by twall o' the clock, 
 
 They were a* in their lang hame O. 
 
 This same version, has also a very emphatick stanza, descriptive of the vio- 
 lence of the storm. 
 
 Come down, come down, my bonny boy, 
 
 I think ye tarry lang O, 
 For the jaw gangs in at my coat neck. 
 
 And rins out at my richt hand O. 
 
xlvi 
 
 And concludes with some lines of uncommon beauty, for they limit our 
 sympathy to individual suffering, and domestick grief. 
 
 Young Patrick's lady sits at hame, 
 
 Sewing her silken seam O, 
 And aye as she look'd at the saut sea waves, 
 
 I'm feared he'll ne'er return O. 
 Young Patrick's lady sits at hame, 
 
 Rocking her eldest son O, 
 And aye as she looked at the saut sea waves, 
 
 I'm feared he'll ne'er come hame O. 
 
 The desolating period which succeeded the death of Alexander, till the 
 decisive battle of Bannockbum, must have been peculiarly fertile in heroick 
 song. Wallaccj the idol of the people, and the gallant asserter of his coun- 
 try's independence, became the nucleus of a large series of such narratives. 
 Wintown records one of his earliest adventures which still lives in the shape 
 of a ballad. And he closes his notice of him, by alluding to the " Gret 
 gestis," to which his illustrious actions had given rise. 
 
 Of his gud Dedis, and Manheid 
 Gret gestis I heard say ar made, 
 Bot sa mony I trow nowcht, 
 As he until liys dayis wroucht. 
 Qwha all hys dedis of prys wald dyte, 
 Hym worthy d a gret Cuk to wryte, 
 And all thai to wryte in here, 
 I want both wyt and gud laysere. 
 
 The industry of Henry the Minstrel has done justice to the history of the 
 Patriot, and it is believed that in his heroick poem, will be found iucoi-po- 
 rated all the detached songs, founded on real or fabulous incident, which were 
 living on the breath of tradition, regarding the hero at the time Henrv lived. 
 The disappearance of these detached songs can be ascribed to no other 
 cause, than the extreme popularity which the work of Henry has acquired. 
 I have heard it as a byeword, in some parts of Stirlingshire, that a 
 collier's library consists but of four books — The Confession of Faith, the Bi- 
 ble, a bunch of Ballads, and Sir William Wallace The first for the gude- 
 
 wife, the second for the gudeman, the third for their daughter, and the last 
 
I 
 
 OQI 
 
 xlvii 
 
 for the son, a selection indicative of no mean taste in these giim moldwarps 
 of humanity. 
 
 No ballads relative to the Bruce and his chivalry exist, the celebrity of 
 Barbour's historick poem, having in the course of time, wholly swept their 
 memory away. That one, who, in his own person and fortunes, realized the 
 most perfect picture we have, of a " Knight adventurous," and who seems 
 himself, to have had a very lively relish for the compositions of the Min- 
 sti-el muse,* should fail being commemorated in song, is inconsistent with 
 probability. We know that a herald in a solemn feast being desired by 
 Edward of Carnarvon to say, what three knights then living were most ap- 
 proved in arms, unhesitatingly named Bruce as one of the number. The 
 minstrel and the herald were at that period, oftentimes, one and the same 
 profession. When Barbour wiote, ballads relative to this period appear to 
 have been common, for the poet in speaking of certain " Thre worthi poyntis 
 of wer," omits the particulars of the "Thrid w^hich fell into Esdaill," being a 
 victory gained by " Schyi- Johne the SouUis" over " Schyr Andrew Hard- 
 clay," for this reason. 
 
 I will nocht rehers the maner, 
 
 For wha sa likes thai may her, 
 
 Young wemen quhen thai will play, 
 
 Syng it amang thaim ilk day. 
 
 " The monkishe rymes, trufFes and roundes," made alternately by the Scot- 
 tish or Euo-lish, as either side prevailed, and of which, some specimens are 
 preserved, in the chronicles of the latter, do not properly belong to the class 
 of nanative ballads. These rhymes, it may be stated, are wTitten in what is 
 called the " ryme Cowee," and which appears to have borne a marked re- 
 semblance to that description of metrical abuse styled •' Flyting," by our 
 Scottish Makers, of which we have some notable examples, in the poetick 
 
 • Barbour gives an interesting account of him, in one instance comforting his followers 
 by reading to them portions of the Romance of Ferumbrace, and on another occasion of 
 being accustomed to tell them 
 
 Auld storyis of men that wer 
 
 Set in tyll assayis ser. 
 
xlviii 
 
 encounters of Dunbar and Kennedy, and Montgomery and Hume. The 
 lines preserved in Fabyan's Chronicle on the Battle of Banuockburn, which 
 " The Scottis enflamyd with pride in derysyon of Englyshemen made," and 
 which he informs us, was" after many dayes sungynin daunces, incarolesof ye 
 maydens and mynstrellys of Scotlande, to the reproof and dysdayne of Eng- 
 lishemeu with dyverse other," — are I believe all that ever existed of that 
 Song. Tliey are of a piece with the " scornful rhyme," which the Scots 
 made, when the English were repulsed at the siege of Berwick, but which 
 rhyme, unhappily for its authors, besides being repaid in similar coin, on a 
 future occasion drew down the unrelenting vengeance of the personage whom 
 it had satyrized. 
 
 There is a ballad of an early date referred to by Hume of Godscroft, in 
 his history of the family of Douglas, in these words : " The Lord of Lid- 
 desdale, being at his pastyme hunting in Attrick Forest, is beset by Wil- 
 liam Earle of Douglas, and such as he had ordained for that purpose, and 
 there assailed, wounded, and slain, beside Galesvvood, in the year 1353, upon 
 a jealousie, that the Earle had conceived of him with his Lady, as the re- 
 port goeth, for so sayes the old song : 
 
 The Countesse of Douglass, out of her bowre she came, 
 And loudly there that she did call ; 
 It is for the Lord of Liddesdale, 
 That I let all these teares downe fall.* 
 
 * " The song also declareth, how shee did write her love letters to Liddesdale, to dis- 
 swade him from that hunting. It tells likewise, the manner of the taking of his men, and 
 his owne killing at Galsewood, and how hee was carried the first night to Linden Kirk, a 
 mile from Selkirk, and was buried within theabbacie of Melrosse." Agcncrall Histonj of 
 Scotland, hj David Hume of Godscroft, London IfioJ, p- 77- It is somewhat singular, 
 that this fragment has not yet been appropriated by Mr A. Cunninghame, and other men- 
 ders and patchers of ancient song as a tit subject on which to whet their lively and ingenious 
 wits. The historian has furnished them with materials ample enough for the nonce, and 
 their temerity has led them certainly on other occasions, to achieve more daring outrages 
 on antiquity, with less to guide them in their tilt against truth, taste, candour, and com- 
 mon honesty. The fanciful and eloquent writer, whom I have chanced here to name, I 
 am aware, expresses his doubts regarding the antiquity of the few lines Godscroft has pre- 
 served — so has he relative to the Elegiack Song on the death of Alex. III., preserved in 
 Wyntownis Cronykil, but his opinions on these matters are little to be regarded, for his 
 ideas regarding what is old, and v/hat is new, in our vernacular poetry, seem very unset- 
 tled. 
 
(TV 
 
 xlix 
 
 of this ballad the Editor of the Minstrelsy of the Border mentions that a 
 few fragments still survive, and that these occur in that work, but after a mi- 
 nute search fo;: them, I suspect they have been omitted by some oversight, 
 as they are not now to be found there. 
 
 The same writer supposes tlmt this stanza, which also occurs in Godscroft's 
 history, and which refers to the infamous murder of William 6 Earle of 
 Douglas, in the castle of Edinburgh, by the hands of his Sovereign in 1440, 
 is part of a ballad which had been composed on that event. 
 
 Edinburgh Castle, Town, and Tower, 
 God grant thou, sinke for sinne, 
 And that, even for the black dinner, 
 Earl Douglas gat therein. 
 
 A tragedy of this description, in which personages of the highest eminence, 
 were actors, and which was so repugnant to humanity and inconsistent with 
 honour, would no doubt soon be reduced into song, but if it did, with the 
 exception above quoted, there exists no other vestige. 
 
 In the list of " storeis and taylis," given in the " Complaynt of Scotland," 
 there is mention made of the "tail of Sir valtir the bald leslye," which Dr 
 Leyden supposes, may have been a Romance of the crusades now lost. If 
 so, it is one of those which must have supplied a reasonable portion of ballad 
 narratives to the vulgar, among whom it would seem the name of Lesley 
 was not unknown, when Verstegan wrote and Dr Mackenzie compiled his 
 cumbrous volumes of Scottish Biography.* 
 
 • Mr Finlay seeks to connect with this, a tradition preserved by Verstegan, in his 
 "Restitution of Decayed Intelligence," Lond. l()34,p. 292. " A combat being once fought 
 in Scotland, between a Gentleman of the family of Lesleyes, and a knight of Hungary, 
 wherein the Scottish Gentleman was victor ; in memory thereof, and of the place where it 
 happened, these ensuing verses, doe in Scotland yet remaine : — 
 
 Betvjeene the Icsseley, and the mare. 
 He slew the Knight, and left him thare.'" 
 Mackenzie in his life of John Lesley, Bishop of Itoss, gives a different account of this 
 tradition. After mentioning that the family of Lesley, sprung from Bartholemy Lesly, 
 a Hungarian gentleman, who accompanied Queen Ulargaret from Hungary to England, 
 and from thence to Scotland, where he married one of her maids of Honour, about 1067, 
 by whom he had a son named Malcolm ; which Alalcolm having been appointed Governor 
 of Edinburgh Castle, defended the same so valiantly, that the King hrst knighted him 
 and then made him Governor thereof for life, in reward for his services. " But this was not 
 
Mr Pinkerton in his " Select Scottish Ballads," has in the preliminary 
 dissertation, with which the second volume is garnished, this foot note. 
 " The loss of Chevy Chace might be compensated to Scotland, by the 
 recovery of many tragic pieces of no inferior merit, were means used by 
 those who have opportunities for that purpose. Bertrmn the Archer, the 
 Robin Hood of Scotland, is now hardly known to have existed, though he 
 was celebrated in many a heroick ditty. The only stanza known to the 
 Editor is given as it closes with a pretty thought. Bertram being surrounded 
 by his enemies, addresses his weapon in this manner, 
 
 My trusty bow of the tough yew, 
 That I in London bought, 
 And silken strings, if ye prove true, 
 That my true love has wrought. 
 
 If Songs relative to this Bertram ever existed, it is to be regretted that they 
 have now passed into irretrievable oblivion. The stanza given by Mr 
 P., it is but right to mention, appears a genuine remain of some old song 
 and no fabrication of his own.* 
 
 The battle of Otterbourne, fought in August, 1388, has not passed imsung : 
 and as the glory inclined to the Scottish in that conflict, it is but natural to 
 
 \ 
 
 all," says our historian, " for he desired him to ride a Day's Journey North from Dum- 
 fermling, and wherever he bated his horse, he would give him a Mile round. The First 
 place he halted at was Fechil, now called Leslie in Fife ; the Second was at Innerlepad in 
 Angus; the Third was at Feskie in the Merns ; then at Cushnie in JMar; and Lastly at 
 Leslie in Garioch, where his Horse gave over. Upon his return the King asked him. 
 Where he had left his Horse ? He answered, nt the Lcsseley beside the Mair. The King 'i 
 
 noticing, how well that agreed with his name, said to him ^^ 
 
 Vol. ii. p. 502. Lord Lesley shalt thou he 
 
 And thy Heirs after thee.'" 
 
 * It unfortunately happens, that one does not well know when Mr P. is in sober 
 earnest, and when merely indulging in innocent jesting, while writing of ancient 
 ballads. The 7iiany heroic ditties in which this Archer it seems was celebrated, 
 have certainly never been heard of in the present day, nor has the reading, enquiry 
 or observation of the present writer, enabled him, to detect any allusion to his dedis in 
 history or tradition. It may not bo improbable, however, that the fine fragment of Bar- 
 thum's Dirge, preserved in the Border Minstrelsy, may refer to this individual. There is 
 in the fragment of " The Laird of Muirhead,' allusion also made to a person of this 
 name. Since writing this note I fi:id the same verse occurs in some copies of Johnie of 
 Breadislie, or Johnie of Cocklesmuir." 
 
n 
 
 conceive that it would become a favourite llienie vrith their Minstrels. We 
 find an allusion made to it, in the Complaynt of Scotland, and indeed two 
 lines of the ballad itself quoted. Traditionary, though imperfect, versions of 
 it, are still current among the peasantry, one of which is given by Herd, and 
 another in the Border Minstrelsy. But to this ballad England lays claim 
 as a production of her Minstrels because there happen to be two ancient 
 MS. copies of it preserved in her Libraries. The possession of ancient title 
 deeds, does not, however, prove a right to property, in which another has 
 quietly been seated, and has enjoyed unchallenged for centuries. The his- 
 tory and poetry of Scotland has it must be gratefully acknowledged been 
 deeply indebted to the pen of English Antiquarians, for its elucidation and 
 preservation, and also to the English Press for its early publication. But 
 the pious care thus shewn for the genius of another land, does not authorize 
 any appropriation thereof, and Scottish works whose authors were known, 
 have of course been unsubjected to the imposition of a new name, as their 
 authors coming in the shape of that English Gierke, who kindly undertook 
 their transcription. But Scotland has been pillaged, both of her Metrical 
 Romance, and of her ancient ballad by such appropriations. Fortu- 
 nately for letters, these productions of her Minstrels, too often hav- 
 ing only an oral existence, were, when heard in tlie southern parts of the 
 kingdom, written down to be preserved either as mere curiosities, or as 
 being recommended by the interest of their narratives. The amanuenses, 
 set their own names to the compositions they thus copied, and the critick 
 who subsequently examined these monuments gratuitously, assigned the au- 
 thorship to the scribe, or fixed the paternity of the composition by the coun- 
 try in which they found a manuscript of it extant, though the living song, 
 and the spoken language of another land, every where bore allusions to, and 
 proved its connexion with, the literature thus unnaturally divorced from it. 
 The changes which Romance underwent, was not so fatal as those to which 
 the historical ballad was subjected, when it fell into tlie hands of the English 
 scribe. The one suffered merely in its language, and that but slightly, but 
 the other was, in addition to this, materially changed in its narrative, and a 
 different colouring given to its facts, in order to harmonise better with the 
 
lii 
 
 national prejudices, and to gratify the national vanity of the copyist, or of 
 those for whom its perusal or recitation, after it had undergone these altera- 
 tions, was intended. That the " Battle of Otterbourne," was thus dealt with, 
 by an English transcriber appears obvious, for it studiously omits dilating on 
 Percy's capture, while it accurately details liis combat with Douglas ; where- 
 as it would appear that in the genuine Scottish version, the capture of Percy 
 formed a prominent incident, seeing it is the one by which the author of the 
 Complaynt refers to the ballad. 
 
 The Percie and Alongumbrie met. 
 That day, that woful day. 
 
 No English Historian alludes to this ballad as an English com])osition, 
 whereas Hume of Godscroft, who wrote in the reign of James VI., distinctly 
 announces, that the Scots song of that Battle was different from the Eng- 
 lish — the English ballad being that entitled the Hunting of the Cheviot, and 
 lie quotes the beginning of the ballad exactly as it is to be found yet preser- 
 ved by tradition, and as the English MS. authorises it. One strong proof that 
 England cannot be considered as the birth-place of this ballad, is that at a 
 subsequent period, one of her Minstrels founded upon it. The Hunting of the 
 Cheviot, in which he gives rein to his imagination, and alters many circum- 
 stances. He was probably induced to make this diversion in favour of Eng- 
 land, by consequence of the extreme popularity of the other ballad, and be- 
 cause its text could not, while the facts were yet fresh in men's minds, and 
 purse and person of many yet smarting, be safely moulded into any other 
 form, than that in which it was originally produced. But under a different 
 name, and educing new incidents, and with allusions to other contests in 
 which his countrymen had the advantage, Mr Richard Sheale succeeded in 
 supplanting tlie veritable narrative with his own Bulletin. This he unhesita- 
 tingly enriched with every thing valuable, which, consistently with his plan, 
 he could pillage from the other. 
 
 But Master Sheale besides paring down facts to suit his views of proprie- 
 ty, and perchance of profit, appears also to have been indebted to Romance, 
 for some of the finest parts of his heroic poem. This noble and pathetick 
 picture 
 
 I 
 
liii 
 
 The perci leanydeon his brand, 
 
 And sawe the Duglas de ; 
 He tooke the dede mane be the hande, 
 
 And said, wo ys me for thee. 
 To have savyde thy lifFe, I wolde have pertyde with 
 
 My landes for years thre, 
 for a better man of hart nar of hande, 
 
 Was not in all the North Contre. 
 
 will be found to have an archetype, in the Romance of Kyng Alysaunder 
 When the Macedonian arrives at the spot where Darius had been assassina- 
 ted by Besas and Besajias 
 
 Anon he lyghte of his hors. 
 
 And tok in armes that gentil cors. 
 
 on which Darius addresses a few words to him before the spirit went, and 
 
 the poet continues 
 
 Ac theo deol that Alysaunder made. 
 No may I nought fully rede, 
 Darie starf in his armes two, 
 Lord that Alesaunder was wo. 
 He wrong his hondes saun faile. 
 Oft he cried and oft he waile, 
 " Y wolde Y hadde al perce y-geve 
 With that Y mighte have thy lif." 
 
 and that gallant squire whom the Minstrel bewails 
 
 " For Wetharynton my harte was wo. 
 
 That ever he slayne shulde be ; 
 P''or when both his leggis wear hewyne into, 
 
 Yet he knyled and fought on his kne." 
 
 finds a parallel for obstinate doughtiness in the Gigantick Burlonge who 
 encounters Sir Tryamoure, and by whom he is lopped down to reasonable 
 fighting dimensions in the same way.* 
 
 ' Hys swerde lyghtly he up hente, 
 And to Burlonge faste he wente. 
 
 For nothing wolde he flee. 
 And as he wolde have rysen agayne. 
 
liv 
 
 The ancient ballad of Chevy Chace, was, as is supposed, about the time 
 of Elizabeth or James, re- written and modernized, and became very popu- 
 lar, being- one of the very few minstrel songs, which the ballad writers of 
 that day, thought worthy of being printed. In Scotland it was altered so 
 as to suit political feeling and flatter national vanity. That the view given 
 of the Ballad of Otterbourne, may not be deemed extravagant, I may in- 
 stance the ballad of "Thomas of Ersyldoune," no MS. copies of which 
 exist in Scotland, but of which there exist or did exist at one time, no less 
 than three in England. It is, however, traditionally remembered in Scot- 
 land. This beautiful and strange tale of Faerylonde, is not claimed as an 
 EngUsh production, though it is only in England that ancient MSS. of it are 
 extant, and yet it cannot be deemed entirely the production of the pen of 
 True Thomas, or of the Minstrel, who chose to ascribe thfe vaticinations to 
 that seer, seeing it has been at an early period transcribed by an English 
 Gierke, and from time to time interpolated with such stanzas as favoured a 
 temporary political purpose, and could bear a construction inimical to the 
 interests of that country of which the prophet was a native. 
 
 From the Complaynt of Scotland, we also learn, that there was a ballad 
 on the subject of the Chevalier de la Beaute, who was murdered by the 
 Homes during the regency of John Duke of Albany. Tlie two lines given 
 in that work, 
 
 God sen the Due had byddin in France, 
 And Delabaute had neuyr cam hame, 
 
 were probably the beginning of the ballad, and are all that now remains of 
 
 He smote his legges even a twayne, 
 
 Harde faste by the knee. 
 Tryamoure badde hym stande uprighte, 
 And all men may se now in fyghte, 
 
 We ben mete of a syse. 
 Syr Tryamoure sufFred hym 
 To take another wepen, 
 
 As a knyght of moche pryce, 
 Burlonge on his stompes stode, 
 As a man that was nye wode, 
 He fought wonder faste, &c. 
 Utterson's Ancient Popular poetry, Vol. 1. p. 69. 
 
Iv 
 
 it. The Sang of Gilquhiskar, also mentioned in the Complayiit, was per- 
 haps an historick ballad. But nothing of it is known to antiquaries save the 
 name. Such of our Historick Ballads as are still extant, and have found 
 their way into various publications, do not require to be adverted to here, 
 it being sufl&cient to notice them, when the published collections in which 
 they are contained come to be recapitulated. 
 
 It may assist those who have hitherto paid little attention to the Tradi- 
 tionary Song of Scotland, now to give a few slight notices of the several 
 works in which its Historick and Romantick ballads have successively ap- 
 peared ; and a list of the ballads themselves which these compilations res- 
 pectively contain. In giving this catalogue, it may once for all be mentioned 
 that such ballads as are clearly supposititious, or of quite a modern date, will 
 be passed over in silence. This list must necessarily be somewhat imper- 
 fect ; but it may serve to the general reader all the purposes of reference, 
 and to some more industrious and accurate cultivator of this kind' of litera- 
 ture, it may prove the starting point of a more extended and minute 
 enquiry. 
 
 As has already been urged, the songs or ballads which refer to matters of 
 history, may, in most instances, be deemed coeval compositions with the facts 
 on which they are founded. Of course this class fixes the era of its produc- 
 tion with sufficient precision ; but with regard to the more numerous and 
 perchance more ancient as well as interesting description of Song, which has 
 been denominated the Romantick and Legendary Ballad, we have little else 
 left than conjecture, to assist us in assigning it a determinate age. A large 
 portion of the ballads coming under this head, must have arisen out of real 
 events, and therefore, ought to be reckoned as historick songs, could they 
 only be satisfactorily traced to their origin. This, however, from the silence 
 of authentick history, or from the delapidations of Time, cannot be done. It 
 is evident enough, however, to any skilful eye that the latest of such com- 
 positions does not descend furtlxn- than the middle of the 17th century. 
 
 
Ivi 
 
 The earliest collection of popular poetry known to have issued from the 
 Scottish press, is a volume printed at Edinburgh, " By Walter Chepmau 
 and Andrew Myllar, in the year M.D.VIII." This volume is, with reason, 
 supposed to be perfectly unique ; no other than the copy preserved in the 
 Advocates Library, being at this hour known to exist.* As illustrative of 
 the language and literature of Scotland, at that early period it is eminently 
 curious and valuable ; but the only part of its contents to which our sub- 
 ject leads us to refer, is 
 
 A GEST OF BOBYN HODE. 
 
 The appearance of which long ballad, is not only an additional proof of 
 the high popularity of that bold outlaw, in Scotland, but goes to establish 
 the fact, that the celebrity of his name in song, was not alone owing to the 
 carping of England's Minstrels, but to the equal labours of Northern Glee- 
 men. It is not meant, however, to claim this " Ge^t," as a Scottish pro- 
 duction, though there certainly is some ground to do so ; its appearance in 
 Scotland, preceding its imprint, by Wynkin de Worde, by some years. Be- 
 tween the Scottish and English impression, there occurs no difference, save 
 in a few orthographical points. 
 
 The popular literature of Scotland and of England, about this period, ap- 
 peal's to have been pretty much alike. One of the most interesting pro- 
 ductions, of the Saint Andrew's press, is " The Complaynt of Scotland,'' 
 published, as is supposed, in the year 1549, and reprinted at Edinburgh, 
 under the care of Dr Leyden, in 1801. It is peculiarly valuable, as pre- 
 serving in that division of it, styled " Ane monolog of the actor," what may be 
 looked on as a tolerably full and accurate catalogue of the popular Romance 
 and Song, of its author's day, at all events, it is indicative of its author's taste, 
 in such matters. In character, it resembles the famous library of Captain 
 Cox, whose books Laneham, in his letter fi'om Kenil worth, hath daintily 
 
 * The lovers of ancient poetry, will be much gratified to learn, that a beautiful Fac Si- 
 mile reprint of Chepman and Millar's volume, is nearly ready, under the careful supervi- 
 sion of ^Ir David Laing, — another monument of that eminent bibliographer's unwearied 
 and devoted attachment, to the illustration and preservation of the early poetry of his native 
 land. 
 
Ivii 
 
 ilescribed as being " fair bound in parcbment, and tyed with a whipcord." It 
 would occupy too mucli space to repeat here, that enumeration, which the 
 author of the Complayut has given, or to echo again, the illustrative notices, 
 ■which the learning and research of Dr Leyden, have bestowed upon the sub- 
 ject. The amount of our knowledge respecting the " storeis and flet taylis," 
 or the " sweit melodious sangis of natural music, of the antiquitie," men- 
 tioned in the Cemplaynt has received but slender addition, since Dr Ley- 
 den wrote. " The taiyll of the reyde eyttyn witht the thre heydis," cannot 
 now be found in Scottish Romance ; but there is a ballad still traditionally 
 preserved, in which a Giant is introduced, equally endowed with heads ; 
 but whether he was a reyde Etin or no, the record is silent. He is thus 
 described : 
 
 Then flew the foul thief from the west, 
 
 His make was never seen ; 
 He had three heads upon ae halse, 
 
 Three heads on ae breast bane. 
 He bauldly stepped to the king, 
 
 Seized steed in his right hand, 
 Says, " here am I, a valiant man. 
 
 Fight me now if ye can." 
 
 Alarmed by the nideness of this uncouth combatant the king exclaims, 
 
 " Where is the man in a' my train. 
 
 Will tak this deed in hand ? 
 And he shall hae my dochter dear. 
 
 And third part of my land." 
 
 Whereupon a gentle knight, who had courted and won the affections of the 
 said king's daughter, (it may be well to mention for the satisfaction of the 
 curious, that she was " The king's daughter of Linne,") and received from 
 her certain rare gifts, besides two precious rings, the virtues of which were 
 to keep the body of the wearer invulnerable, and to staunch the blood of any 
 one of his followers who might be wounded, undertakes the combat in 
 these words ; 
 
 k 
 
Iviii 
 
 " O, here am I," said young Ronald, 
 
 " Will tak the deed on hand ; 
 An j'e'll gie me your dochter dear 
 
 I'U seek nane o' your land." 
 " I wudna for my life, Ronald, 
 
 This day I left you here ; 
 Remember ye, your lady gay 
 
 For you shed mony a tear." 
 For he did mind on that ladie, 
 
 That he left him behin' ; 
 And he hadna mair fear to fight 
 
 Than a lion frae a chain. 
 Then he cut off that Giant's heads, 
 
 Wi' ae sweep o' his hand ; 
 Gaed hame and married his ladie 
 
 And heired her father's laud. 
 
 In another ballad published in a recent collection*, occurs an Etin of a 
 different stamp, more courteous it is true than the triple-headed Giant now 
 noticed, but still a fellow of prodigious strength, (and a pagan to boot, as 
 which of them are not, ) for 
 
 He pou'd a tree out o' the wud, 
 
 The biggest that was there ; 
 And he howket a cave monie fathoms deep, 
 
 And put May Marg'ret there. 
 
 These etins by their deeds establish their claims to a Scandinavian extrac- 
 tion. " The tail quhou the kyng of estraureland mareit the kyngis dochtir 
 of vestmureland," Ritson has shewn may probably be another name for the 
 " Geste of Kyng Horn" in opposition to an opinion hazarded by Dr. Ley- 
 
 * Ancient Scottish Ballads, Edinburgh, 1827, p. 225. Of this ballad I have seen a 
 much moi-e perfect and beautiful version entitled " Young Akin," in an immense MS. 
 collection of Traditionary ballads, &c. made by Mr. Buchan of Peterhead, which he in- 
 tends for publication. The contents of that collection are of singular interest and value ; 
 and it is much to be desired, that Mr. Buchan may meet with encouragement suffi- 
 cient to induce him to give his work to the publick. It is the fruit of many years labour 
 and to collect it must have cost its enthusiastick compiler a very serious expense. 
 
Irix 
 
 den and Sir Walter Scott that it might perhaps have had some affinity to 
 the ballad of " King Estmere." Without expressing any opinion on this 
 controverted point, I may mention that in one version of the ballad, printed 
 in the Border Minstrelsy under the title of Pause Foodrage, I have found 
 the three kings mentioned there as being 
 
 The Eastmure king, and the Westmure king, 
 And the king of O Xorie. 
 
 Certainly a very near approximation to the names contained in the above 
 tale. In quoting the title of a song mentioned in the Coniplaynt, the Edi- 
 tor of The So7}gs of Scotland, Vol. I. p. 75, from liis love of mutation has 
 fallen into an error perhaps of little consequence but just enough as shoidd 
 be lesson sufficient to every person of sound sense to quote precisely as it 
 is writ and no otherwise. " Tume the sueit ville to me," which in modem 
 orthography is " Turn thee, sweet Will, to me," has been altered by Mr. 
 Cunninghame into Turn thy sweet tcill to me. Had he spelled as he found 
 his author did, he would have avoided this blunder. 
 
 During the heat of the Reformation there were many " ballatis sangis 
 blasphematious rhymes, alsweill of kirkmen as temporall and vtheris tra- 
 gedies" published; but none of these, nor of the historick ballads during 
 the reigns of James V., Queen Mary, and James VI. have reached to 
 our day in a collected form. That patchwork of blasphemy, absurdity, and 
 gross obscenity which the zeal of an early Reformer spawned under the 
 captivating title of " Ane compendiovs Booke of Godlie and Spiritvall 
 Songs,''* is neither comprehended under the description of Song we are 
 now in quest of, nor do its miserable and prophane parodies reflect anv 
 trace whatever of the stately ancient narrative ballad. 
 
 * Ane compendious Booke of Godly and Spiritual! Songs, collectit out of Sundrie 
 partes ot" the Scripture with sundrie of other Ballates, changed out of Prophaine Sanges 
 for avoyding of Sinne and Harlotrie, with augmentatioun of sundrie Gude and Godlv 
 Ballates not contained in the first edition. Newlie corrected and amended by the first 
 Original! Copie. Edinburgh, printed by Audro Hai't. 
 
Ix 
 
 The Aberdeen " Cantus," printed successively in the year 1662, 1666, 
 and 1682,'* though containing several old Songs, English as well as Scot- 
 tish, does not supply any copies of Historical or Romantick ballads. Yet 
 I find the burden of the XIX. Song, third edition, is the same with that of 
 an old ballad which records an Elfin knight's attempt to murder an inno- 
 cent maiden whom he had persuaded to ride off with him to some green- 
 wood side, but who, like the False Sir John of the ballad of May Colvin, 
 falls himself into the snare he had set for his love. The ballad alluded to 
 begins thus : 
 
 "o' 
 
 Lady Isabel sits in her bouir sewing, 
 
 Aye as the go wans grow gay ; 
 She heard an Elf knight his horn blowing. 
 
 The first morning in ]May. 
 She heard an Elf knight his horn blowing, 
 
 The first morning in May. 
 
 " In a list of books," says the Editor of the Border Minstrelsy," printed 
 for and sold by P. Brocksby, 1688, occurs ' Dick o' the Cow,' containing 
 north country songs." This collection which is conjectured would liave 
 supplied many of the Border historical ballads and warlike ditties, besides 
 the one mentionod in its title, is, unfortunately, not now extant, or at least 
 is not known to the Bibliographer under that designation. 
 
 The compilation made and printed by James Watson; in three parts, the 
 first of which appeared in 1706,-1- the second in 1709, and the third in 
 1710, has preserved several interesting parcels of oar vernacular poetry. 
 
 * Canius Songs and Fancies To Three Four or Five Parts, botli apt for Voices and 
 Viols. With a brief introduction to Miisick, as is taught in the Musick -school of 
 Aberdeen. The Third Edition, much Enlarged and Corrected. Printed in Aberdeen, 
 by John Forbes, and are to be sold at his Printing House, above the 3Ieal 3Iarket, at 
 the Sign of the Towns Armes. 1682. 
 
 t A choice Collection of Comic and Serious SfOts ^OCmS) Both Ancient and Mo- 
 dern, By several Hands. Part I. Edinburgh, Printed by James Watson, Sold by 
 .John Vallange. MDCC.VI. 
 
 I 
 
but contains none of tlie compositions connected with tlie present enquiry, 
 unless the poem with which the second part opens, beginning 
 
 I. DURING THE REIGNE OF THE ROYAL ROBERT,* 
 
 be looked upon in this light. The same poem is mentioned in the Com- 
 playnt of Scotland, lo-i9, among the " storeis and flet taylis" as " the rjTJg 
 of the roy Robert." 
 
 Watson's work was succeeded by " The Evergreen, being a collection of 
 Scots poems wrote by the Ingenious before 1600," printed in two small 
 ISmo. volumes at Edinburgh in 1724. This publication is highly credita- 
 ble to the patriotism, industry, and good taste of its editor, the far-famed 
 Song writer, Allan Ramsay. His principal materials were derived from a 
 valuable manuscript presented by the Earl of Hyndford to the Advocates 
 library, and since known by the name of its compiler as the Bannatyne MS. 
 At the time Ramsay published, the business of editing Ancient poesy was 
 not well understood; nor were the duties of an Editor, in that department 
 of letters, accurately defined. The poet accordingly seems happily removed 
 bevond the fear of being caught sleeping in his task; and far above feeling 
 anv annoyance when detected in the commission of any literal, verbal, or 
 critical mistake. Indeed, it is questionable if greater editorial fidelity than 
 what he vouchsafed to give, would, in such matters, have then been duly ap- 
 preciated. In the liberties which he took with the antient Song of his coun- 
 try, he has however unfortunately supplied a precedentf or posterity to quote, 
 and set an example which men of less talent, and even less critical integrity, 
 have been eager to imitate. The ballads of the description now wanted, 
 printed in the Evergreen, are not numerous. 
 
 * This poem occurs in the Maitland MS. and its author, according to that authority, 
 was Dean David Steill, a Scottish poet, who is supposed to have rtourished about the 
 close of the fifteenth centxiry. From the :Maitland MS. INIr. Laiiig has printed a copy 
 in his " Early ISIetrical Tales, Edinburgh ls26," to which is pretixed notices of the oc- 
 casion of the poem, of its author, and of the editions which it has gone through. 
 
They are — 
 
 Ixii 
 
 9. THE BATTLE OF HAIRLAW. 
 
 3. JOHNIE ARMSTRANG. 
 
 4. THE REIDSQUAIR RAID. 
 
 2. Antiquaries have differed in opinion regarding the age of this composition; but the 
 best informed have agreed in looking upon it as of coeval production, or nearly so, with 
 the historical event on which it is founded ; and in this opinion the present writer en- 
 tirely coincides. No edition prior to Ramsay's time has been preserved, though it was 
 printed in 1668, as we are informed by Mr. Laing in his Early Metrical Tales, an edi- 
 dion of that date having been in the curious library of old Robert Mylne. In the Com- 
 playnt of Scotland, 1549, this ballad is mentioned. In the Polemo Middinia its tune is 
 referred to. 
 
 Interea ante alios dux piperlarius heros, 
 Praecedens magnamque gerens cum burdine pypam, 
 Incipit Harlai cunctis sonare Batellum. 
 
 And in a MS. collection of tunes, written in the hand of Sir William Mure of Rowal- 
 lan, which 1 have seen, occurs " the battle of harlaw." PVom the extreme popularity 
 of the Song, it is not to be wondered at though every early imprint of it has now disap- 
 peared. Ramsay probably gave his copy from a stall edition of his own day, which copy 
 has successively been edited by Mr. Sibbald, Mr. Finlay, and Mr. Laing, and has ap- 
 peared in other collections. A copy apparentl)' taken from recitation is given in " The 
 Thistle of Scotland, Aberdeen, 1823." The editor of which, among a good deal of stuff 
 which is not very comprehensible, points out various localities, and' gives three stanzas of 
 a burlesque song on the same subject, popular in the north. 
 
 3. Ramsay mentions that this is the true old ballad of the famous John Armstrong of 
 Gilnockhall in Liddisdale, and which he copied from a Gentleman's mouth of the name 
 of Armstrong, who was the sixth generation from this John, and who told him that it 
 w^as ever esteemed the genuine ballad, the common one false. This noted Border-pricker 
 was gibbeted by James V. in 1529. The common ballad alluded to by Ramsay, is the 
 one, however, which is in the mouths of the people. His set I never heard sung or re- 
 cited; but the other frequently. The common set is printed in Wit liestored, London, 
 1658, under the title of " A Northern Ballet," and in the London collection of Old Bal- 
 lads, 1723, as " Johney Armstrong's last Goodnight." That collection has another bal- 
 lad on the subject of Armstrong, entitled " Armstrong and Musgrave's Contention." 
 In J. Stevenson's Catalogue, Edinburgh, 1827, is a copy on a broadside, with this title, 
 " John Armstrong's last Farewell, declaring how he and eight score men fought a bloody 
 hattell at Edinburgh; to the tune of Fare thou well, bonny Gilt Knock Hall," an edi- 
 tion still adhered to in the stall copies of the ballad. The version of the ballad as given 
 in the Evergreen, is followed by the editor of the Border Minsti'elsy, in whose valuable 
 compilation it finds a place with suitable illustrations. 
 
 4. Is given from the Bannatyne MS. but inaccurately. A correct copy from the 
 same source occurs in the Border Minstrelsy. The Raid commemorated inson?, han- 
 pened on 7th July, 1576. ^ ^ 
 
 I 
 
Ixiii 
 
 lu the same year, 1724-, Ramsay published another collection of consid- 
 erable merit, viz. " The Tea Table INIiscellany, being a choice collection of 
 English and Scotch Songs," in which are inserted the following ballads; 
 but whether derived from printed copies, or from tradition, is not men- 
 tioned. 
 
 5. WALY, WALY, GIN LOVE BE BONNY. 
 
 6. SWEET William's ghost. 
 
 7. BONNY BARBARA ALLAN. 
 
 It were discourteous not to mention that Hardyknute, a fragment originally printed 
 in 1719, the ingenious fabrication of Lady Anne Wardlaw, likewise appeared in the 
 Evergreen. It was long looked upon as an ancient composition, and many still cherish 
 this fond and idle notion. It is not improbable, however, that in the days of the accom- 
 plished authoress, there may have existed some historick song relative to the conflict of 
 the Largs, (somewhat like an enlarged version of the metrical account, given of that 
 event by Winton,) which she used as tlie foundation of her clever poem. In a volume 
 of " Poems and Songs, by Alexander Tait, 1790," which I suspect is now scarce, and 
 certainly is curious, will be found a Ballad of his enditing, on the same subject. He 
 plunders from Hardyknute without remorse ; but uses his spoil in such an odd way, and 
 so peculiarly his own, that none who read him can forbear pardoning his plagiarisms. 
 
 5. This perhaps should not be included in the present list; for many versions induce 
 me[to believe that it is only a part of the ballad generally known under the title of" Jamie 
 Douglas," in some copies of which are to be found almost every stanza of the present 
 Song incorporated. The tune is the same in both ; and the naiTative, so far as it can 
 be guessed at, also coincides. In the appendix will be given a traditionary version of 
 " Jamie Douglas" corroborative of the opinion now hazarded. If llamsay was the first 
 who effected the divorce of the sentimental from the narrative parts of the ballad, he de- 
 serves some credit for his taste and ingenuity. 
 
 6. The two concluding stanzas of this ballad are looked on as a modern addition. In 
 recited copies I have heard this stanza repeated, which does not occur in printed copies; 
 it follows the 14th stanza. 
 
 My meikle tae is my garil post, 
 
 My nose is my roof-tree; 
 My ribs are kebars to my house, 
 
 And there is nae room for thee. 
 
 A different version, WUliam and Marjorie, is given in the present compilation, taken 
 from the recitation of an old woman. This ballad, or part of it, is often made the tail 
 piece to others, where a deceased lover appears to his mistress. 
 
 7. An English version of this ballad is frequently to be met with. The 8th and 9th 
 have appeared in numerous subsequent publications. Of the last, many various sets ex- 
 ist ; one is given from tradition in this work; another in Finlay's Ballads; a third in 
 
Ixiv 
 
 8. THE BOXNY EARL OF MURRAY. 
 
 9. JOHNNY FAA, THE GYPSIE LADDIE. 
 
 " A collection of Old Ballads, collected from the best and most ancient 
 copies extant, with Introductions, Historical, Critical, or Humourous," 
 printed at London in 1723, 24, and 25, in 3 vols. r2mo, contains a copy of 
 
 10. GILDEROY, 
 
 but no other Scottish ballad. This is a very judicious compilation of Eng- 
 lish ballads; but there is no reference to the authorities from which they 
 are obtained, which, in a work of the kind, is a serious defect. 
 
 " IVIactaggart's Gallovidian Dictionary," improved no doubt by that strangest of all h u- 
 inan editors ; a fourth in Chambers' '♦ Scottish Gipsies," Edin. 1823; and some scraps of 
 a fifth set in one of the volumes of the Scots Edinburgh Magazine, the modesty of the 
 correspondent who communicates it, not permitting him to pollute the pages of "that im- 
 maculate work with its grossness. He is really very considerate. 
 
 10. Gilleroy in Gaelic signifies the red-haired lad: Patrick IMcGregor, or Gilleroy, 
 the subject of this ballad, suffei-ed for his crimes in 1638, and his fate was commemorated 
 in song. " The above mentioned ballad, says the author of Caledonia, was printed at Ed- 
 inburgh, during the moment of Gilleroy's exiit. It was certainly reprinted at Lon- 
 don in the black letter before 1650. There is another copy of it with some variations in 
 Playford's JHt and Mirth, first edition of vol. iii. which was printed in 1702. There is 
 also a copy with variations in Durfy's Songs, 1719, vol. v. p. 39, and another with vari- 
 ations, iu a collection, second edition, London, 1723, vol. ii. (vol. i.) p. 271. These co- 
 pies, though possessing several stanzas of poetic merit, contained some indelicacies that 
 required suppression. An altered and delicate edition appeared in Thomson's Orpheus 
 Ca/cdotmis. But before this appeared, the ballad had been altered by Sir Alexander 
 Halket, said Ritson in his Scots Songs, ii. 24: yet, according to a truer account, this 
 operation on the old ballad was performed by Mrs. Elizabeth Hacket, the daughter of 
 Pitferan, and the v/ife of Sir Henry Wardlaw of Pittrevie, the real authoress of Hardy 
 Knute. See Blackwood's Mag. 1. p. 380. The ballad of Gilderoy on that new cast, 
 maybe seen in Percy's 'Reliques, 1. 321, with the exception of one stanza; also in 
 Herd's Scots Songs, i. 73, and in Ritson's Scots Songs, ii. 24, none of whom give the 
 whole thirteen stanzas." Caledonia, vol. iii. p. 36. I have seen a broadside printed at 
 Edinburgh before 1700, which differs from the copies mentioned above. In Lady Ward- 
 law's amended copy, a good many of the old stanzas are retained ; others are omitted, or 
 in part retouched, and several from her own pen are added. It would seem that when 
 Ritson consulted the Museum on this occasion, he had goneno farther than the index, 
 for if he had'tumed to p. 67, he would have found that the piece entitled in the index 
 " Gilderoy," was the song written to that tune, beginning 
 
 " Ah Chloris could I now but sit," 
 
 and not any copy of the ballad itself, which nowhere in any of the 6 volumes of the Mu- 
 
Till the appearance of " The Reliques of Early English Poetry in 1755," 
 I am not aware of any intermediate publication which relates to the present 
 enquiry. The singular merit of that work not only as exhibiting much 
 curious, profound, and accurate reseai'ch into various departments of the 
 history of Early English poetry, a walk till then, comparatively speaking, 
 unexplored ; but also as everywhere cai-rying with it traces of its Editor's 
 fine genius and chaste taste, has been long and fully appreciated. Important 
 as the additions are which said work has made to our knowledge of ancient 
 poesy, customs, and manners, the influence which it has had on the litera- 
 ture of the present day, and the change it has been the main instrument of 
 producing on the character of its poetry, are of the most obvious and bene- 
 ficial description. 
 
 The materials of his volumes were, as Dr. Percy informs us, principally 
 obtained from an ancient MS. much dilapidated, and in many parts care- 
 lessly and inaccurately penned. Of the existence of this MS. no person 
 can now doubt, since Ritson himself was at length reduced to the necessity of 
 admitting its being. For the mode in which the pieces taken from this 
 MS. were given to the publick. Dr. Percy has been rated by the critick now 
 named, in no measured terms. With his own pen he had supplied the 
 breaches time or accident had wrought in the originals — he had curtailed 
 some parts and expanded others, and had corrected literal or verbal errors 
 in his text, without any previous intimation to the reader. This was the 
 sum and substance — " the front of his offending." Grave as these delinquen- 
 cies might have been in a work exclusively projected for the use of the 
 mere antiquarian, they appear venial, when it is considered that the object 
 of the one in question was popular — to imbue the general reader with a 
 taste for olden poesy — to stimulate his curiosity, and direct his mind to 
 congenial enquiries, and by no means intended to satisfy the minutest wish 
 
 seum has a place. The song Ah ! Chloris was composed by the Right Hononrable 
 DuQcaa Forbes, Lord President of the Court of Session, about 1710. 
 
 i 
 
Ixvi 
 
 of the Archaiological scholar. How ably he accomplished his views, the 
 work itself is sufficient testimony. 
 
 A number of the ballads published in the Reliques are of dubious origin^ 
 being common to Scotland as well as England. The battle of Otterbourne *, 
 Glaskerionf, Child Waters |, The Knight and Shepherd's Daughter §, 
 Lord Thomas and fair Ellinor H, The Childe of Elle ^, and even Sir Cau- 
 line ** will all be found traditionally current in Scotland from time' immemo- 
 rial, differing, it is true, somewhat in form, but in substance essentially 
 agreeing with the English versions : the paternity of these, therefore, we 
 shall not now discuss. The following ballads which appeared in the Reliques 
 belong to Scotland : 
 
 11. THE Jew's daughter. 
 
 * See Herd's collection. 
 t Glenkindy in Jamieson's collection. X Burd Helen'of Jamieson's collection. 
 § In many shapes current in Scotland, one tyf which is inserted in the present collection. 
 II The same is the case with this. ^ Resembles Young Erlinton. 
 ** This romantick ballad exists :n Scotland, under the title of King Malcolm and Sir 
 Colvine. It has never been printed. There is a copy in Mr. Buchan's MS. above re- 
 ferred to, which begins thus : 
 
 There lived a king in fair Scotland, 
 
 King Malcolm called by name, 
 Whom ancient history does record 
 
 For valour, worth, and fame. 
 And it fell ance upon a day, 
 
 The king sat doun to dine; 
 And there he missed a favourite knight. 
 
 His name was Sir Colvine. 
 , But out it spak anither knight, 
 
 Ane of Sir Colvin's kin : 
 " He's lying in bed, right sick of luve. 
 
 All for your daughter Jean. " 
 
 It describes the combat between Sir Colvine and the " Knight of Elrick's hill," in 
 which the former is victorious, and then concludes — 
 
 Up he has ta'en that bloody hand, 
 
 Set it before the king; 
 And the morn it was VVodensday, 
 He married his daughter Jean. 
 
 11. Stated to be given from a MS. copy sent fi-om Scotland. Herd gives this and 
 
 t 
 
 I 
 
Ixvii 
 
 12. WHY DOIS ZOUR BRAND SAE DRAP Wl' BLUID? 
 
 13. SIR PATRICK SPENS. 
 
 14. EDOM O' GORDON. 
 
 another rersion entitled, " Sir Hugh" in his collection. Mr. Jamieson gives a third 
 copy, and in this collection is a fourth variety of this exceedingly popular ballad. 
 
 12. "This curious song was transmitted to the Editor by Sir D. Dalrymple, Bart., 
 late Lord Hailes." Percy. " It is rather a detached portion of a ballad. The verses 
 of which it consists, generally conclude the ballad of the ' Twa Brothers,' and also some 
 versions of ' Lizie Wan.' A ballad of the same nature seems to be known in Germany, 
 for it is quoted in Werner's tragedy of the 29th February. In the Finnische Runen of 
 Schroter is given a traditionary ballad known in Finland, entitled Weriner Pojka, The 
 bloody Son, a very counterpart of the Scottish ballad. 
 
 13. This has been considered one of the oldest of our historick ballads. The Editor 
 of the Border Minstrelsy, recovered a much fuller set which is thei'e printed, and fur- 
 nished Mr. Jamieson with another version, which is inserted in his compilation. One 
 of the btst sets of this ballad is yet unedited. It is in the MS. of JMr. Buchan before 
 referred to, and one stanza of it happily confirms the opinion which I ventured to ex- 
 press, regarding the event which gave rise to the ballad ; a few lines of this it may be 
 worth while to quote. 
 
 Ye'll eat and drink my merry men, 
 
 And see ye be ^veel thorn ; 
 For blaw it weet or blaw it wind. 
 
 My gude ship sails the morn. 
 Then out it speaks a gude auld man, 
 
 A gude deid mat he die, 
 " Whatever I do my gude master, 
 
 Take God your guide to be. 
 For late yestreen I saw the new meen, 
 
 The auld meen in her arm," 
 "]Ohon, alace," says Sir Patrick Spens, 
 * That bodes a deadly storm." 
 But I maun sail the seas the morn. 
 
 And likewise sae maun you. 
 To Norwat/ wi' our king's daughter, 
 
 A chosen Queen's she's now. 
 
 14. I have heard a diflferent set of this ballad, the locality of which is Loudoun castle 
 in Ayrshire. The one in the Reliques was printed at Glasgow by R. and A. Foulis, 
 1755, in 8vo, 12 pages, being taken by Lord Hailes, from the recitation of a ladj-. On 
 the authority of his MS., which it seems contained this ballad, Dr. Percy made some 
 alterations in the Glasgow edition. The event on which it is founded, occurred in 1578. 
 Ritson in his Ancient Songs has given from the Cotton library, a copy entitled, "Captain 
 Care," "the undoubted original," as he says, " of the Scottish ballad." This, it seems, 
 has at the end, " Finis per me Will"" Asheton, Clericum," the name, he supposes, of the 
 author ; but it is evident that Master Asheton was merely the clerk who transcribed it. 
 
Ixviii 
 
 15. THE HEIR OF LINNE. 
 
 16. YOUNG WATERS. 
 
 17. GIL MORICE. 
 
 18. FAIR MARGARET AND SWEET WILLIAM. 
 
 19. LORD THOMAS AND FAIR ANNET. 
 
 In the preface to " Albyn's Anthology, Edinburgh, 1800," its Editor, the 
 late Mr. Campbell, mentions that " In the year 1755, ' A Collection of Old 
 Ballads' was printed at Glasgow." At that time, a number of ballads were 
 separately printed by the Foulises, and these, when gathered together, might 
 form the collection referred to above. 
 
 15. Is given fo-om the Editor's MS. The traditionary version extant in Scotland, 
 begins thus : 
 
 " The bonnie heir, the weel-faur'd heir, 
 
 " And the weary heir o' Linne, 
 " Yonder he stands at his father's gate,' 
 
 " And naebody bids him come in. 
 " O see whare he gangs and see whare he stands, 
 
 " The weary heir o' Linne, 
 " O see whare he stands on the cauld causey, 
 
 " Some ane wuld ta'en him in. 
 " But if he had been his father's heir, 
 
 " Or yet the heir o' Linne, 
 " He wadna stand on the cauld causey, 
 
 " Some ane wTild ta'en him in. " 
 
 16. Is "given from -a copy printed not long since at Glasgow, in one sheet 8vo. The 
 world is indebted for its publication to the lady Jean Hume, sister to the Earl of Hume, 
 who died at Gibraltar." — Percy. I have never met with any traditionary version of 
 this ballad. 
 
 17. Has already been noticed at length, see p. 257. 
 
 18. The common title of this ballad which is a favorite of the Stalls is, " Fair Mar- 
 oaret's misfortunes." 
 
 19. Was transmitted from Scotland. Some traditionary copies of the ballad have this 
 stanza, which is the 19 in order. 
 
 And 4 and 20 milkwhite swans, 
 
 Wi' their wings stretch 'd out wide. 
 To blaw the stour aif the highway, 
 To let fair Annie ride. 
 Mr. Jamieson has published a copy from recitation, entitled " Sweet Willie and Fair 
 Annie," of very gi-eat beauty. 
 
Ixix 
 
 In 17G9 Mr. Herd published his " Ancient and Modem Scottish Songs, 
 Heroic Ballads, &c.," and again in 1776 in two volumes, a collection of 
 much merit, and one wherein many curious lyrical pieces have found a 
 sanctuary. The principal faults of this compilation consist in its ancient and 
 modern pieces being indiscriminately mingled together ; and that no reference 
 is ever made to the authorities from which they are derived, except what this 
 slight announcement contains : " It is divided into three parts. The first 
 is composed of all the Scottish Ancient and Modern Heroic Ballads, or 
 Epic Tales, together with some beautiful fragments of this kind. Many of 
 these are recovered from tradition or old MSS. and never before printed. 
 The second part consists of Sentimental, Pastoral, and Love Songs; and 
 the third is a collection of Comic, Humorous, and Jovial Songs." — Preface 
 p. viii.. Edition, 1776. The ballads undermentioned appeared to be those 
 which, till the date of this publication, had not appeared in a collected 
 form : 
 
 20. THE YOUNG LAIRD OF OCHILTREE. 
 
 21. BOTHWELL. 
 
 22. FINE FLOWERS IN THE VALLEY. 
 
 20. Another copy of this historick hallad under its correct title, the " Laird of Logic," 
 is given from recitation in the Border JMinstrelsy. There is another set of it to be found 
 in stall prints, which has a chance of being the original ballad, as composed at the time 
 of the Laird's deliverance in 1592. 
 
 21. This ballad isvery^ptmlar, and is known to reciters under a variety of names. 
 I have heard it called •'LoroTBangwcll," " Bengwill," " Dingwall," " Brengwill," &c. 
 and "The Seven Sisters, or the leaves of Lind." In the Border Minstrelsy, vol. iii. 
 72, Fifth Edition, is a version entitled, " Corspatrick." The same authority men- 
 tions that a copy in Mrs. Brown of Falkland's MS., is styled " Child Brenton." Mr. 
 Jamieson has translated a Danish ballad " Ingefred and Gudrune, (Northern Anti- 
 quities, p. 340,)',wherein he points out the striking resemblance it bears to the present one. 
 In a book misnamed " Remains of Galloway and Nithsdale Song," it is titled, "We 
 were sisters, we were seven." It is amusing to see this motley version challenging that 
 in the Border Minstrelsy, as being interspersed with modern patches, and claiming for 
 itself the merit of being a pure and unalloyed traditionary copy. Unparalleled impudence ! 
 
 22. Another copy of this is given in Popular Ballads and Songs, vol.'i. 66, under the 
 title of " The Cruel Brother ; or the Bride's Testament." It is a very common ballad, 
 and has been wafted to distant parts of the island, as appears from a copy to be found in 
 
 I 
 
Ixx 
 
 23. LIZIE WAN. 
 
 24. MAY COLVIN. 
 
 25. THE WEE WEE MAN. 
 
 26. BONNY MAY. 
 
 27. LAMMIKIN. 
 
 28. EARL RICHARD. 
 
 " Some ancient christmas carols. &c., collected by Davies Gilbert, London, 1823, p. 68, 
 styled ' The Three Knights.'" The other ballad in said book, called " The Three Sis- 
 ters," is a Scottish one ; but of which the editor has given an imperfect version. 
 
 23. The copy of this ballad is from tradition, and agrees pretty accurately with other 
 recited copies. There are several other ballads on the same disagreeable topick to be 
 frequently met with, some of which have not, as yet, been edited. 
 
 24. A fuller set of this is given by Mr. Sharpe in his Ballad Book, taken from reci- 
 tation ; but I have seen a printed stall copy as early as 1749, entitled, " The Western 
 Tragedy," which perfectly agrees with Mr. Sharpe 's copy. I have also seen a later stall 
 print, called " The Historical Ballad of May Culzean," to which is prefixed some local 
 tradition, that the lady there celebrated was of the family of Kennedy, and that her 
 treacherous and murder-minting lover was an Ecclesiastick of the monastery of Maybole. 
 In the parish of Ballantrae on the sea coast, there is a frowning precipice pointed out to 
 the traveller, as " Fause Sir John's Loup." In the north country at the Water of 
 Ugie, I am informed by Mr. Buchan there is a similar distinction claimed for some 
 precipice there. The same gentleman has recovered other two ballads on a similar story : 
 one called " The Water o' Wearie's well ;" and the other, from its burden, named " Aye 
 as the gowans gi-ow gay," in both of which the heroes appear to have belonged to the 
 Eltin tribe. 
 
 25. Is also printed in this collection, which see 
 
 26. In the Border Minstrelsy a finer copy of this ballad, said to be the original song 
 of the " Broom of the Cowdenknowes," is given. It would be endless to enumerate the 
 titles of the different versions of this popular song which are common among reciters. 
 
 27. Another set is published in this compilation. There is a ' Lambirkyns wod ' 
 near Dupplin in Perthshire. Can this have got its name from the cruel mason whom 
 the ballad assures us, " lived in the wode ?" If so, it must be very ancient. It is loca- 
 lised too, I believe, at Balwearie in Fifeshire ; but there are few places where the ballad 
 is remembered, but which has also some ancient edifice in the neighboui-hood reared by 
 the hands of Lammikin. Indeed it seems questionable how some Scottish lairds could 
 well afford to get themselves seated in the large castles they once occupied, unless they 
 occasionally treated the mason after the fashion adopted in this ballad. 
 
 28. Is imperfect ; but two perfect copies are given in the Minstrelsy of the Border, 
 one entitled " Earl Richard," made up of two copies to be found in Herd's MS. and 
 the other supplied by the Ettrick Shepherd, from the recitation of his mother, named 
 " Lord William." Under the first title is another version to be found in " Scarce An- 
 cient Ballads," Aberdeen, 1822, p. 3, disguised under uncouth orthography; and consid- 
 erably interpolated by its editor. Another set of this popular ballad is in Kinloch's 
 
Ixxi 
 
 29. THE BOXNY LASS OF LOCHRYAN. 
 
 30. THE BATTLE OF OTTERBURN. 
 
 31. KERTON ha' or THE FAIRY COURT. 
 
 •' Ancient Srottish Ballads," entitled " Young Redin," and in Mr. Buchan's MS. is 
 preserved yet another copy, the title of which has escaped my memory. 
 
 29. Is given in another shape in the Border Minstrelsy, vol. 2, p. 433, Fifth Edition, 
 and another variety of it occurs in Mr. Jamieson's Popular Ballads and Songs, vol. i. 
 p. 36. Mr. Cunninghams in his " Songs of Scotland," vol. i. p. 298, has, in his version, 
 favoured the world with an ample specimen of his own poetical talents. His improved 
 readings are very pretty; but ingenuity is ill bestowed when eraploj'ed to vitiate truth, 
 though it be but in an old song. It is curious to remark how the catastrophe of many 
 ballads, like the pi-esent, ai'ise from the witchcraft and sorceries of malicious mothers. 
 
 30. Is the Scottish traditionary version of the Battle of Otterburn. The hiatus in a 
 verse of Herd's copy, a recited copy enables me to supply. 
 
 O yield thee to yon braken bush, 
 
 That grows upon yon lilly lie, 
 For there lies aneth yon braken bush, 
 
 What aft has conquer'd mae than thee. 
 
 Another version is given in the Border Minstrelsy, and Mr. Finlay in the introduction 
 to his Historical and Romantic Ballads, vol. i. p. 18, has preserved two stanzas of an- 
 other copy. The ballad preserved in the Harleian and Bodleian collections we may 
 repeat, is certainly a Scottish composition, though altered for the nonce by the English 
 transcriber. The last line of the third stanza, Dr. Percy says, is corrupt in both 3ISS, 
 being " INIany a styrande stage," and he has altered it thus, '' Styrande many a stagge," 
 a change in which subsequent editors have silently acquiesced; but the reading of the 
 3IS. is, I suspect, right, and the commentator wrong; iov stage or staig in Scotland, 
 means a young horse unshorn of its masculine attributes, and the obvious intention of 
 the poet, is merely to describe that the Scottish alighted from many a prancing steed, 
 in order to prepare for action, not to amuse themselves with hunting deer. The lines 
 should therefore be, 
 
 Upon Grene Leyton they lighted dowyn 
 
 [Off] many a styrande stage. 
 It was one of the Border laws that the Scottish array of Battle should be on foot. The 
 horses were used but for a retreat or pursuit. Various old ballads allude to this custom 
 of debating matters of life and death on foot, see Childe of Elle, Douglas Tragedy, &c. 
 The ballad itself confirms this reading, see Fytte 2. 
 
 With that the perss3'e was grevyd sore, 
 
 Forsoth as I yow saye. 
 He lyghted dowyn upon hys foote, 
 And schotte his horse clene away. 
 31. Appeared in a completer form in Johnson's Museum, vol. v. p. 423, as Tarn Linn, 
 which was altered and re-printed in Lewis' Tales of Wonder. A more formidable 
 edition was published in the Border ^Minstrelsy, some verses of which, we allude to those 
 supplied by some ingenious gentleman residing near Langholm, are clearly supposititious, 
 
xxu 
 
 32. CLERK COLVILLE. 
 
 33. WILLIE AND ANNEX. 
 
 34. THE CRUEL KNIGHT, (a Fragment.) 
 
 35. WHA WILL BAKE MY BRIDAL BREAD, (a Fragment.) 
 
 36. I'll wager, i'll wager, (a Fragment.) 
 
 37. THE LOWLANDS OF HOLLAND. 
 
 and ought to be omitted. The " tail of Young Tamlene," is mentioned in the Com- 
 playnt of Scotland, and Dr. Leyden concludes that it was a Romance of P'aerye, which, 
 in its transmission to tlie present times, has acquired its present balladised form. I sus- 
 pect its title of Thomlin or Thomalin, a diminutive of Thomas, was given to distinguish 
 it from the Vaticinal Rymes, which were early current, under the title of " True Tho- 
 mas," or "Thomas the Rymer." The poet of Ei-cildoune was seduced by fairy charms to 
 expatriate himself, and it was only to avoid paying the tax to Hell, which also disturbed 
 the happiness of Tomalin, that he was compelled to revisit this world. A lusty full 
 grown man must have been a great aid to the Fairy Exchequer, when its subsidies to 
 the Devil had to be paid in kind. 
 
 32. Was re-printed in " The Tales of Wonder," with some additions and alterations. 
 Pinkerton gives a fragment about a Mermaid, which he afterwards acknowledged to be 
 a fiii)rication of his own ; but Mr. Fhijay maintains that it is old,— which, however, I 
 don't believe ; though the subject, I grant, is old enough, and very common in the tales 
 of almost every country. Furthermore, the " Fause Mermaid," in Mr. Finlay's Bal- 
 lads, is evidently a modern composition. " The Mermaid of Gallowa," printed in Re- 
 ■mahis of Galloway "andlS^ithsdale Song as a traditionary ballad, is now admitted to be 
 from the pen of Mr. Cunninghame. 
 
 33. Was published in another shape under the title of " Sweet Willie." A good tra- 
 ditional version of it is given in this collection, viz. " F"air Janet," taken from the Ballad 
 Booh. 
 
 34. Is a fragment which was afterwards completed by Mr. Finlay, under the title of 
 " Young Johnston and the Young Colonel," and is also inserted in this collection, with 
 a few additions and variations. For the sake of poetick justice to the Young Johnston, 
 from another version I give the lines which explain his reason for slaying his love, and 
 which follow in order that stanza wherein she upbraids him for his cruelty : 
 
 " Ohon ! alace ! my lady gay, 
 
 " To come sae hastilie ; 
 " I thought it was my deadly fae 
 
 " Ye had trysted into me !" 
 
 35. Is the fragment of "Fair Annie" referred to in this collection, p. 327, where the 
 different published versions of the ballad are also mentioned. 
 
 36. Occurs in a fuller shape in the Boi-der Minstrelsy as "The Broomfield Hill;" 
 but this is a ballad which has long been printed under the title of " The West Country 
 Wager." 
 
 37. Also occurs in Johnson's Museum with some valuations ; but neither of the copies 
 are so full as one which may occasionally be met with in stall editions, published about 
 sixty years ago. 
 
I 
 
 Ixxiii 
 
 38. AND THEIIE SHE LEANT HER BACK TO A THORN, 
 
 39. EARL DOUGLAS, (a Fragment.) 
 
 In 1781 the late Mr. Pinkerton published his " Scottish Tragic Ballads," 
 a thin volume printed at London, which was followed in 1783, by " Select 
 Scottish Ballads," in two volumes: the first whereof is a reprint of the 
 " Tragic Ballads/' with several augmentations, and the second contains " Songs 
 and Humourous Poems." In these Mr. P. planted a considerable number 
 of effusions from his own pen, alleged to be ancient, but which he had the 
 candour to confess were fabrications; when Ritson, with an acrimony by no 
 means within the limits of good taste or common politeness, took him to 
 task on the subject. His recantation will be found in " List of Scottish 
 Poets," prefixed to " Ancient Scottish Poems," p. cxviii. His sins, as an 
 editor of old ballads, have been fully enough detailed by his literary antago- 
 nists, and it is not now of moment to resume the ungracious task of repre- 
 hension. The only old ballad his volumes contain not till his time inserted 
 in our collections, is 
 
 40. SIR JAMES THE ROSE. 
 
 38. Is a ballad generally printed under the title of " The Cruel Mother." Innumer- 
 able and curious versions of it are to be obtained from recitation, much better than any 
 hitherto printed. 
 
 39. Is a fragment of " Jamie Douglas," published afterwards more fully by Mr. Finlay, 
 vol. ii. p. 1. " The name " black Fastnes" occui-ring iu these copies, is a curious instance 
 of the sound misleading the sense. Herd and Finlay have both printed it as being the 
 name of the malicious individual who sowed dissension betwixt Douglas and his lady, 
 instead of being as it assuredly is, a mere rhetorical figure. It is the abbreviated way of 
 pronouncing f'ahcttwss, Faustness. A fact which the keen eye of a recent Editor of old 
 Ballads could not see though he discerned at once that a " Tailliant" must of necessity 
 be an " Italian." An imperfect version of this ballad is in his collection, named " The 
 Laird of Blackwood." Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 58. A stall copy of this ballad was 
 printed in 1798, under the title of " Fair Orange Green," 
 
 40. " Printed," as is said, " from a modern edition, in one sheet r2mo, after the old 
 copy." On this was founded the populai- ballad of T/te Buclmnshirc Tragedy or Sir 
 James the Ross, said to be written by Michael Bruce. 
 
 k 
 
Ixxiv 
 
 In 1784, a gurdy little volume was published at Hawick, by Geor ge 
 Caw, having this title: — " The Poetical Museum, containing Songs and 
 Poems on almost every subject, mostly from periodical publications." In 
 that work appeared the following ballads, which were afterwards inserted 
 in the Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, viz. 
 
 41. DICK OF THE COW. 
 
 42. JOCK o' THE SIDE. 
 
 43. HOBIE NOBLE. 
 
 " The New British Songster, a collection of Songs, Scots and English, 
 with Toasts and Sentiments, for the Bottle, Falkirk, 1785," funiishes a 
 ballad which belongs to a numerous class of Scottish legends, the merit of 
 which is not very obvious, it consisting for the most part of enigmatical ques- 
 tions and answers. These metrical riddles, however, are sufficiently ancient, 
 and can be traced throughout the early poetry of almost every land. This 
 ballad is entitled 
 
 44. CAPTAIN WEDDERBURn's COURTSHIP. 
 
 44. This is also inserted in Mr. Jamieson's " Popular Ballads and Songs." Few are 
 more popular; it occurs in every assortment of stall literature. Winton is copious in 
 his details of an attempt made by the Devil to puzzle by curious questioning, that singu- 
 lai-ly holy and wise man, Saint Serf ; but as usual, the saint prevails in this combat of 
 wit and leai-ning. Of a similar nature is that recorded in a Gallwegian tale, named 
 " The Pause Knight upon the road," wherein the fiend is baffled by the pertinent an- 
 swers of a " wee boy," who must have been a very saint in miniature. As this ballad 
 has never been printed, and is briefer than these compositions generally are, it is now 
 given : 
 
 O whare are ye gaun ? 
 
 Quo' the fause knicht upon the road ; 
 I'm gaun to the scule, 
 
 Quo' the wee boy, and still he stude. 
 AVhat is that upon your back ? 
 
 Quo' the fause koicht upon the road ; 
 Atw^eel it is my bukes. 
 
 Quo' the wee boy, and still he stude. 
 What's that ye've got in your arm ? 
 
 Quo' the fause knicht, 6cc. 
 
Ixxv 
 
 James Johnson, Musick seller in Edinburgh, began publishing his valua- 
 ble work, entitled " The Scots Musical Museum," in 1787, and continued 
 doing so till 1803, when the 6th and last of his attenuated volumes, seems to 
 
 Atwoel it is my peit, 
 
 Quo' the wee boy, &:c. 
 Wha's aucht they sheep ? 
 
 Quo' the fause knicht, &c. 
 They are mine and my mither's, 
 
 Quo' the wee boy, &:c. 
 How monie o' them are mine? 
 
 Quo' the fause knicht, &c. 
 A' they that hae blue tails, 
 
 Quo' the wee boy, &c. 
 I wiss ye were on yon tree. 
 
 Quo' the fause knicht, &c. 
 And a gude ladder under me, 
 
 Quo' the wee boy, &c. 
 And the ladder for to break. 
 
 Quo' the fause knicht, &ic. . 
 And you for to fa' doun, 
 
 Quo' the wee boy, &c. 
 I wiss ye were in yon sie, 
 
 Quo' the fause knicht, &c. 
 And a gude bottom under me. 
 
 Quo' the wee boy, &c. 
 And the bottom for to break, 
 
 Quo' the fause knicht upon the road ; 
 And ye to be drowned, 
 
 Quo' the wee boy, and still he stude. 
 
 In the " Legenda Aurea," a tale occurs of a worthy bishop who was a devoted admirer 
 of Saint Andrew, much to the dissatisfaction of the Devil. The evil one transforms 
 himself into a comely wench, who speedily found favour in the holy man's sight, and 
 there is no saying but his soul might have been placed in jeopardy by her blandishments 
 on one occasion when feasting together, had it not been for a loud knocking at the gate, 
 which opportunely disturbed their enjoyments. On looking out, a poor pilgrim was 
 seen beating furiously for admittance. The fiend lady afraid lest her victim should es- 
 cape her machinations, stipulates that before the pilgrim be admitted, he should answer 
 certain three questions, to be propounded by her. The pilgi'im being no less a personage 
 than Saint Andrew, answered the two first questions promptly, and the third to so much 
 purpose, that the fiend immediately flew off in native ugliness, filling the air with horrid 
 imprecations, whereby the bishop saw at once his imminent peril, and became still more 
 unremitted in his devotions at the shrine of the Saint, who thus interposed in his be- 
 half. 
 
 i 
 
Ixxvi 
 
 have appeared ; though from Musical works generally not having in their 
 title pages, or elsewhere, the year in which they happen to be printed, 
 considerable doubts are bred regarding the date of their publication. In 
 one or other of his volumes will be found these ballads. 
 
 45. LORD RONALD MY SON. 
 
 46. GEORDIE. 
 
 47. THE BROOM BLOOMS BONNY, THE BROOM BLOOMS FAIR. 
 
 48. GUDE AVAL LACE. 
 
 In 1790, R. Morison & Son of Perth, published " A Select Collection of 
 Favourite Scottish Ballads," in 6 vols. 12mo, a neat compilation from Ram- 
 say, Herd, Percy's Reliques, Pinkerton, &c. but it contains no ballads not 
 elsewhere printed. 
 
 Ritson's curious and valuable collection of " Ancient Songs from the time 
 of King Henry III. to the Revolution, London, 1790," has four ballads, 
 all of which are traditionally preserved in Scotland, viz. 
 
 45. Many versions of this exist. It appears in the Border Minstrelsy as " Lord 
 Randal," and is known to nurses as " The bonnie wee croudlin Doo." 
 
 46. Of this many variations exist among reciters. One of the copies is styled Geordie 
 Luklie. In Ritson's Northumherland Garland, 1793, is "a lamentable ditty made upon 
 the death of a worthy gentleman, named George Stoole, &c. to a delicate Scottish tune," 
 evidently imitated from the Scottish song. Mr. Kinloch has published another version 
 in his "' Ancient Scotish Ballads," p. 192, and quotes a passage from Buchanan as the 
 probable source from which the ballad had its origin. One set makes Geordie very un- 
 gratefully drown his deliverer in the sea, in a lit of jealousy. "l"is a pity the rascal 
 escaped the gallows. 
 
 47. Printed in full in this collection, only three stanzas were given in the Museum. 
 
 48. Also in Jamieson's ballads, with additions by the Editor. Likewise in Finlay's 
 Ballads. Another version occurs in Buchan's Gleanings, p. 114, and in " Laing's 
 Thistle of Scotland," p. 100, will be found yet another version of this popular ballad. 
 The copy given in The Songs of Scotland is, as usual, inlaid with the Editor's own mo- 
 saick work. 
 
Ixxvii X 
 
 49. THE THREE RAVENS. 
 
 50. THE UNGRATEFUL KNIGHT AND THE FAIR FLOWER of NORTHUM- 
 BERLAND. 
 
 51. THE LIFE and death of SIR HUGH of the GRIME. 
 
 52. a LAMENTABLE BALLAD OF A COMBAT BETWEEN SIR JAMES 
 STEWARD AND SIR GEORGE WHARTON. 
 
 it also contains the copy of " Captain Car," before referred to. 
 
 " Ancient and Modern Scottish Songs, Hei-oic Ballads, &c. in two vo- 
 lumes, Edinburgh, printed for Lawrie and Symington, 1791," is, so far as 
 regards its ballads, merely a republication of Herd's coUectian, already no- 
 ticed, with a few of Mr. Pinkerton's effusions in the ballad vein, by way of 
 augmentation. 
 
 " The Northumberland Garland, or Newcastle Nightingale, a matchless 
 collection of Favourite Songs," printed at Newcastle, 1793, one of the nu- 
 merous compilations of the industrious Ritson, has a ballad entitled Fair 
 Mabel of Wallington, which in Scotland is traditionally preserved, though 
 in a less perfect form, under the name of 
 
 53. " THE MILD MARY." 
 
 In 1794, in 2 vols. 12mo, appeared Ritson's interesting work on " Scottish 
 Song," which must long remain a text book for the care and accuracy be- 
 stowed upon it by its editor. From a stall print he gives the popular bal- 
 lad of 
 
 49. Traditionary versions of this will be found in the Border Minstrelsy, and in Al- 
 byn's Anthology. I have met with several copies almost the same as in Ritson. 
 
 50. A Scottish version appears in Kinloch'a Ballads, under the title of " The Pro- 
 vost's Daughter." 
 
 51. See Johnson's Museum, the Border Minstrelsy; it is a very common ballad. 
 
 52. A traditionary version is in the Border Minstrelsy. 
 
 53. In Mr. Buchan's manuscript, I have seen another version under a different title, 
 which has escaped my memory. 
 
Ixxviii 
 
 54. THE DUKE OF GORDON's THREE DAUGHTERS. 
 
 " An Introduction to the History of Poetry in Scotland, &c., by Alex- 
 andei- Campbell, to which are subjoined, Sangs of the Lowlands of Scot- 
 land, carefully compared with the original editions," Edinburgh, 1798, 4to, 
 does not make any addition to our stock of ballads. It for this reason need 
 not have been noticed. The editor says that " in the songs contained in his 
 compilation, he followed the earliest and best editions;" but he does not 
 say what these are, nor where found. Can this have been an intentional 
 omission on the part of the Editor, to save himself from what is in Scotland 
 known as " back spiering?" 
 
 Mr. Lewis's Tales of Wonder, London, 1800, in 2 vols. 8vo, contain 
 some Scottish ballads of the preternatural cast; but modernized and im- 
 proved so as to suit the other contents of that work. These, therefore, do 
 not require to be adverted to here, they having all been subsequently pub- 
 lished in their own proper habiliments elsewhere. 
 
 " Scottish Poems of the XVI. century, Edinburgh, 1801," one of the 
 numerous useful publications, illustrative of Scottish History, edited by Mr. 
 Dalzell, advocate, contains the ballad of 
 
 55. The Battle of Balrinnes. 
 
 In 1802, the first two volumes of " The Minstrelsy of the Scottish Bor- 
 der issued from the Kelso press, so justly celebrated for correctness and 
 
 55. Fought in 1594, by the Earls of Huntley and ErroU against Argyle. It is also 
 known under the title of " Battle of Glenlivet," a copy is in the Pepys' collection. What 
 Mr. Dalzell has given is, I suppose, from a copy in the Advocate's library, printed at 
 Edinburgh in 1681, 12mo. A version of this ballad is partly printed in " Popular Bal- 
 lads and Songs." A copy is printed in " Scarce Ancient Ballads, Aberdeen, 1822," from 
 whence obtained is not mentioned. From the same quarter I have seen stall prints of it. 
 A collated copy is to be wished for, as the versions now mentioned serve to correct er- 
 rors and supply omissions, to be found in each separately. 
 
Ixxix 
 
 typographical beauty."* A third volume was added in 1803. It has gone 
 through frequent editions since then, the arrangement of the contents in the 
 subsequent editions differing somewhat from that of the earlier. The 
 Edition used for reference here is the fifth, Edinburgh, 1812. 
 
 It is no feeble commendation of the present writer which can enhance 
 the value of this great national work. Fortunate it was for the Heroick 
 and Legendary Song of Scotland, that this work was undertaken, and still 
 more fortunate that its execution devolved upon one so well qualified in 
 every respect to do its subject the most ample justice. Long will it live a 
 noble and interesting: monument of the unwearied research, curious and 
 minute learning, genius and taste of its illustrious Editor. It is truly a 
 patriot's legacy to posterity ; and much as it may now be esteemed, it is 
 only in times yet gathering in the bosom of far futurity, when the inter- 
 esting traditions, the chivalrous and roraantick legends, the wild supersti- 
 tions, the Tragic song of Scotland, have wholly faded from the living 
 memory, that this gift can be duly appretiated. — It is then that these 
 volumes will be conned with feelings akin to religious enthusiasm— that 
 their strange and mystick lore will be treasured up in the heart as the 
 precious record of days for ever passed away— that their grand stern legends 
 will be listened to with reverential awe as if the voice of a remote ancestor, 
 from the depths of the tomb, had woke the thrilling strains of martial antiquity. 
 
 The following ballads were not published till they appeared in the Bor- 
 der Minstrelsy. 
 
 56. AULD MAITLAXD. 
 
 57. THE SANG OF THE OUTLAW, MURRAY. 
 
 58. LORD EWRIE. 
 
 * Preface to Albyn's Anthology, Edinburgh, 1816, p. vui. , , n ,■ /• 
 
 56. Is supposed with reason to relate to the hero mentioned in Douglas s Faltce oj 
 
 Honour, " There I saw Maitland upon auld beard grey." If so the ballad must be very 
 
 ancient. 
 
Ixxx 
 
 59. the l0ch3iaben harper. 
 
 60. jamie telfer of the fair dodhead. 
 
 61. kinmont willie. 
 
 62. the death of featherstonhaugh. 
 
 63. bartham's dirge. 
 
 64. ARCHIE OF CA'fIELD. 
 
 65. Armstrong's goodnight. 
 
 66. the fray of suport. 
 
 67. LORD 3IAXWELL's GOODNIGHT. 
 
 68. THE LADS OF WAMPHRAY. 
 
 69. THE BATTLE OF PHILIPHAUGH. 
 
 70. THE GALLANT GRAHAMS. 
 
 71. THE BATTLE OF PENTLAND HILLS. 
 
 72. THE BATTLE OF LOUDON HILL. 
 
 73. THE BATTLE OF BOTHA^TELL BRIDGE. 
 
 74. ERLINTON. 
 
 75. THE DOUGLAS TRAGEDY. 
 
 76. YOUNG BENJIE. 
 
 77. PROUD LADY MARGARET. 
 
 59. Another version of this is in the Museum. 
 
 69. 70. 71. A covenanting strain on the subject of the troubles detailed in these bal- 
 lads Mr. Laing has printed in his curious work, " Fugitive Scottish Poetry of the seven- 
 teenth Century, Edinburgh, 1825," under the title of " Both well Lines; ' and to coun- 
 terbalance it he gives another, written by a well-wisher of his Majesty, entitled " A 
 Description of the Insurrection that was in the West. " In profane poesy the covenanters 
 seem to have been any thing but excellent. 
 
 74. May be compared with the " Child of Elle," " The Douglas Tragedy," and 
 ' Riboltand Guldborg, ' translated by Mr. Jameson from the Keempe Viser. 'in the 
 'Songs of Scotland,' occurs another copy thickly bestrewn, however, with the ingenious 
 Editor's emendations. 
 
 77. This ballad is imperfect in the Minstrelsy for it omits the grave advice which the 
 ghostly brother gave to his proud sister, who in my copy is named Janet. The full set 
 of the ballad concludes thus; ' 
 
Ixxxi 
 
 78. SIR HUGH LE BLOND. 
 
 79. GRiEME AND BEWICK. 
 
 80. THE LAMENT OF THE BORDER WIDOW. 
 
 " My body's buried in Damfermline, 
 
 Aud far beyond the sea ; 
 But day nor night uae rest could get 
 
 A' for the pride o' thee. 
 Leave aff your pride Jolly Janet, he says, 
 
 Use it not any mair, 
 Or when ye come where I hae been 
 
 Ye will repent it sair. 
 Cast aflf, cast atf, sister, he says, 
 
 The gowd band frae your crown. 
 For if ye gang whare I hae been 
 
 Ye'U wear it laigher down. 
 When ye're in the gude liirk set 
 The gowd pins in your hair ; 
 Ye tak mair delyte in your feckless dress 
 
 Than ye do in your mornin pray'r. 
 And w^hen ye wauUc in the kirk yaird 
 
 And in your dress are seen, 
 There is nae lady that sees your face 
 But wishes your grave were green. 
 Ye're straight and tall, handsome withall, 
 
 But your pride owergangs your wit ; 
 But if you do not your ways refrain 
 
 In Pirie's chair ye'll sit. 
 In Pirie's chair ye'll sit, I say 
 The lowest seat o' hell, 
 u If ye do not mend your ways 
 
 It's there that ye must dwell. 
 Wi that he vanished frae her sight 
 1 ,. 1 In the twinklin o' an eye ; 
 
 And naething mair the lady saw 
 But the gloomy cluds and sky. 
 
 The Scottish parliament seems oYten to have afflicted itself in passing acts against the 
 [,7t sumptuous and costly claithing of ladies. But this ballad must have done more good 
 
 ■ than a hundred sumptuary enactments : for it consigned the fair contraveners at once to 
 
 hell, and to a particular spot of it, of which my ignorance of localities does not enable me 
 to give any farther information than the text affords. 
 
 mtffi 
 
 ditlit 
 
 80. I am passing loath to deprive Scotland of the least remnant of her song ; but this 
 appears to me to be nothing else than a fragment of the English ballad entitled ' The 
 famous Flower of Serving Men : or, the Lady turn'd Serving Man. ' 
 
 / 
 
Ixxxii 
 
 81. johnie of braidislie. 
 
 82. katharine janfarie. 
 
 83. the doavie dens of yarrow. 
 841. the gay gosshawk. 
 
 85. brown adam. 
 
 86. jellon grahame. 
 
 87. Willie's ladye. 
 
 88. clerk SAUNDERS. 
 
 89. THE D^MON LOVER. 
 
 81. Versions of it occur under the title of ' Johnie of Cockielavv and Cocklemuir.' 
 
 82. Buchan's ' Gleanings,' and ' A North Countrie Garland,' contain other versions 
 of this popular ballad, and in this collection another set occurs. Mr. Jamieson gives 
 a Danish ballad ' Child Dyring,' in " Illustrations of Northern Antiquities." 
 
 83. A dififerent version published in this collection . There are many sets of it. 
 
 84. Another copy is given in this collection. 
 
 86. A copy of this ballad, diifering in a few immaterial points I have heard, under 
 the title of ' Hynd Henrie and May Margerie.' 
 
 87. Was published with additions and alterations in Tales of Wonder. Another 
 copy, ' Sweet Willie o' Liddesdale' is in Jamieson 's Ballads, and there is a Danish bal- 
 lad given in " Illustrations of Northern antiquities," ' Sir Stig and Lady Torelild' on 
 the same subject. 
 
 88. Another set occurs in ' Popular Ballads and Songs, 1805.' I have heard a copy 
 called ' The Seven Bluidy Brothers,' the concluding stanza of which apparently has pav- 
 ed the way for the introduction of the Ghost of the slaughtered Lover, which occurs 
 in the copies hitherto published. 
 
 Go make to me a high high tower. 
 
 Be sure ye mak it stout and Strang, 
 And on the top put an honour's gate. 
 
 That my love's ghost may come and gang. 
 And so the ballad ends; but the description of Gate here meant exclusively for the ac- 
 commodation of a ghost passing out and in I do not well comprehend. The verses now 
 given, appear however, naturally to introduce this one in Mr. Jamieson's copy : 
 
 When seven years were come and gane. 
 
 Lady Margaret she thought long, 
 And she is up the hichest tower 
 
 By the lee licht o' the moon. 
 
 89. On this subject I am informed there is an English ballad but I have not seen it. 
 On a similar topick there is a different ballad, generally known by the title of the 
 '* Deil's wowing," in which the fiend conquers the maid's scruples to go with him by the 
 all potent charm of gold. 
 
Ixxxiii 
 
 90. ROSE THE RED AND WHITE LILLY. 
 
 91. PAUSE FOODRAGE. 
 
 92. KEMPION. 
 
 93. THE WIFE OF USHER's WELL. 
 
 94. KING HENRY. 
 
 95. PRINCE ROBEP.T. 
 
 90. Another version entitled ' The Wedding of Robin Hood and Little John/ is in 
 5Ir. Kinloch's Scottish ballads. 
 
 91. I have a copy of this ballad in which the parties interested are stj'led " The East- 
 mure king, the Westmure king, and the king of O Norie." The antiquarian will pro- 
 bably set down two of these gentlemen as ancestors or descendants of the king of £ast- 
 mureland and king of Westmureland, mentioned in the Complaynt of Scotland. 
 
 92. Has been frequently printed in a different form, under the title of the " Laidley 
 worm of Spindelston heugh." " The most common version of which," says the Editor 
 of Kempion, " was either entirely composed or re-written by the Reverend Mr. Lamb 
 of Norham." Mr. Lamb does not appear to have taken any more liberties with it than 
 has been done by other editors of old songs who have hitherto escaped without animad- 
 version. In this collection I have given another copy obtained from recitation, " Kemp 
 Owayne," which preserves in greater purity the name of the hero than any other yet 
 published. He was, no doubt, the same Ewein or Owain, ap Urien the king of Reged, 
 who is celebrated by the bards, Taliessin and Llywarch-Hen, as well as in the Welch 
 Historical Triades. In a poem of Gruffyd Llwyd, A. D. 1400, addressed to Owain 
 Glyndwr is the following allusion to this warrior. " Thou hast travelled by land and 
 by sea in the conduct of thine affairs, like Owain ap Urien in days of yore when with 
 activity he encountered the black knight of the water." His mistress had a ring esteem- 
 ed one of the thirteen rarities of Britain, which, (like the wonderous ring of Gyges,) 
 would render the wearer invisible. — See notes to the mantle made amiss, in Way's Fab- 
 liaux, vol. I. In the ballad given in this collection the lady whom he disenchants coaxes 
 him to kiss her thrice by successively proflFering a royal belt, a royal brand, and a ring 
 found by her in the green sea, all possessing marvellous virtues. 
 
 94. King Henry was published in " Tales of Wonder," then in Mr. Jamieson's col- 
 lection where three stanzas not printed in the Border Minstrelsy are to be found. 
 
 95. Another version of this is given in the present collection. I have seen a third 
 oopy which gives two stanzas not found in either of the sets before the publick. 
 
 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. 
 
Ixxxiv 
 
 96. ANNAN ■WATER. 
 
 97. THE CRUEL SISTER. 
 
 98. THE queen's marie. 
 
 99. the BONNIE HYND. 
 100. THOMAS THE RHYMER. 
 
 The next work of merit on a similar subject with the Border Minstrelsy 
 is Mr. R. Jamieson's " Popular Ballads and Songs," Edinburgh, 1806, 2 
 vols. 8vo. The additions which Mr. Jamieson's industry has made to the 
 
 97. Is a ballad which appears in a multitude of shapes, and which has been parodied 
 in England. Different versions from that published in the Border Minstrelsy will be 
 found in " Popular Ballads and songs," also in the " Ballad Book." 
 
 99. I notice this for the purpose of supplying some of the lacunae which appear in it. 
 The second lin« of the third stanza instead of what it is, should be 
 
 Its not for you a weed ; 
 and after the third stanza, should follow this : 
 
 He's taen her by the milk-white hand 
 
 And softly laid her down, 
 And when he lifted her up again 
 
 He gae her a silver kaim. 
 
 After the 8th stanza of the printed copy, should be the mark of a part lost, which, 
 however, could be supplied if it were necessary, aiid perhaps very nearly in the terms it 
 originally stood by the corresponding verses of another ballad which turns upon the same 
 incident. The two last lines of the ninth stanza should be printed thus : 
 
 She's soakt it in her red heart's blood. 
 And twin'd herself of life. 
 
 After the 11th stanza should be inserted the following verses : 
 
 What need ye care for your bonny hynd ? 
 
 For it ye needna care ; 
 There's eight score hinds in yonder park, 
 
 And five score hynds to spare. 
 Four score of them are siUer shod, 
 
 Of these ye may get three. 
 Bat oh ! and oh ! for my bonny hynd 
 
 Beneath yon Hollen tree. 
 
 100. The first part is from recitation. The other two parts are supplied by the Ed- 
 itor. There are two ancient MSS. of Thomas's poetical vaticinations, and these have 
 been given to the publick, one by Mr. Jamieson in his " Popular Ballads and Songs ;" 
 and the other by Mr. Laing in his " Select Reliques of Ancient Popular Poetry." 
 
Ixxxv 
 
 catalogue of our traditionary poetry are considerable. In the plan of liia 
 publication be was in part anticipated by the Border Minstrelsy; their ma- 
 terials having in a great measure been the same, and obtained from the 
 same source, viz. Mrs, Brown of Falkland. Of ballads not in any collec- 
 tion published till they appeared in Mr. Jamieson's work, the following is 
 believed to be a correct note. 
 
 101. THE TWA BROTHERS. 
 
 102. LADY MAISRY. 
 
 103. GLENKINDY. 
 
 104. THE BARON OF BRACKLEY. 
 
 105. THE LAIRD OF WARISTON. 
 
 106. BURD HELEN. 
 
 107. THE TRUMPETER OF FYVIE. 
 
 101. Another version is in this collection, and a third in Mr. Sbarpe's Ballad Book. 
 
 102. Another version of it is in this collection, a third will be found in the Scots 
 Magazine, June, 1822, and a fourth in the North Countrie Garland. 
 
 103. Is supposed to refer to a Welsh bard, Kirion the sallow. Percy has another 
 version in his Reliques, and Mr. Cunninghame in his " Songs of Scotland," has chosen 
 to melt both versions in a flux of his own, which has disfigured and quite changed the 
 features of each. 
 
 104. Buchan, in his Gleanings of Scottish Ballads, gives a diiferent version of this bal- 
 lad. See also " The Thistle of Scotland," and " Scarce Ancient Ballads." 
 
 105. Another copy will be found in Kinloch's ballads. An interesting memoir of the 
 unfortunate heroine of this ballad has been edited by Mr. Sharpe. Edinburgh, 1827. 
 
 106. Is the " Childe Waters" of Percy's Reliques. Mr. Jamieson has added some 
 supplemental stanzas, giving the ballad a tragick ending; but all copies that I have 
 heard recited end thus : 
 
 Your bridal and your banqueting 
 Shall be both on one day ; 
 Leaving no room to infer a melancholy catastrophe. In Mr. Buchan 's MS. is a capital 
 and perfect copy. 
 
 107. The stall copy of this ballad has been given in the present collection. It is said to 
 be the modern way of the ballad. I am indebted to the ' Gleanings of Scottish Ballads' 
 for correcting me in supposing that the date, 1G74, referred to the death of Tifties Annie. 
 It seems it was acted in the north country as a drama : of these rude histrionick repre- 
 sentations by the vulgar, we have few hints ; but Mr. Cunninghame has recently given 
 some information on that subject in his very eloquent essay on Scottish song, prefixed to 
 his " Songs of Scotland." The Editor of the gleanings says : " The unfortunate maiden's 
 
 \ 
 
Ixxxvi 
 
 108. WILLIE AND MAY MARGARET. 
 
 109. LORD RANDAL. 
 
 110. QUEEN JANE OF ENGLAND. 
 
 111. THE BIRTH OF ROBIN HOOD. 
 
 112. BONNY BEE HOLM. 
 
 113. YOUNG BEICHAN AND SUSIE PYE. 
 
 114. BONNY BABY LIVINGSTON. 
 
 115. ALLSISON GROSS. 
 
 116. LADY ELSPAT. 
 
 117. LORD Wa' YATES AND AULD INGRAM 
 
 In 1808, the late Mr. Finlay of Glasgow published his '"' Scottish His- 
 torical and Romantic Ballads," in 2 vols, a work of considerable merit; but 
 
 name was Annie or Agness, (which are synonymous in some parts of Scotland) Smith, 
 who died of a broken heart on the 9th January, 1C31, as is to be found in a rouglily cut 
 stone brolicn in many places, in the green (churchyard of Fyvie." The inscription is: 
 "Here lyes Agness Smith who died the 9th January, 1631." See Thistle of Scotland, 
 p. G8. 
 
 108. This ballad I have not been able to get in a complete state, till lately, though 
 many fragments of different versions have been familiar to me. Mr. Cunninghame 
 mentions that there is a version where Willie's Ghost appears to his lady, and he 
 
 gives some stanzas. For the supplemental verses of this ballad, see Appendix. 
 
 109. Will be found embellished and altered in the Songs of Scotland. 
 
 110. There is an English ballad on the same subject, see London collection, 1723. 
 Another version in Kinloch's ballads, but not so perfect as can be obtained from reci- 
 tation. 
 
 111. Many versions of this popular ballad are to be met with. The common stall 
 prints are very good. Mr. Jamieson gives two different copies. The ballad refers to 
 the father of Thomas a Becket, a circumstance not hitherto noticed. Another version 
 is in Kinloch's ballads; and a fourth in "Scarce Ancient Ballads, Peterhead, 1819." 
 Association recalls to my memory another ballad relating of Eastern climes, viz. John 
 Thomson and the Turk, which I believe is not published in any collection, though al- 
 lusion is often made in old poets to that worthy warrior's submission to a termagant 
 spouse. It will be found in the Appendix. 
 
 117. Is printed in another and complete shape in " a North Countrie Garland," but 
 a more perfect and beautiful version has been recovered by Mr. Buchan and is in his MS. 
 collection. 
 
Ixxxvii 
 
 which made few additions to our traditionary poetry. He gave, however, 
 a complete set of the Cruel Knight, under the title of Young Johnston, 
 and the Young Colonel, and which is also known to reciters by the name 
 of Sweet Willie and the Young Colonel. He also furnished some consid- 
 erable additions to the ballad of Jamie Doughs, and gave in one or two 
 instances, different versions of some popular pieces. " The Mermaid," 
 though Mr. Fiiday considers it to be an old ballad, is certainly wholly re- 
 written. There are stories, sure enough, of Knights, yea Squires of low 
 degree, being captivated by these " Swimming Ladies," rife in every part 
 of the country; and the only one, on record, who was so fortunate as to 
 escape their embraces, was a gentleman commemorated in this rhyme, 
 given by Mr. Chambers, in his late curious work.* 
 
 Loratie, Lorntie, wer't na for your man, 
 
 I had gait your heart's blude skirl in my pan. 
 
 But as to the verses in Mr, Finlay's book, or those in Mr. Pinkerton's, on 
 a similar subject, being ancient, I must beg leave to remain incredulous. 
 The only additions these volumes give are 
 
 1 18. The Bonnie House of airly. 
 
 119. Willie Macintosh. 
 
 An extraordinary vpork under this title comes in for a share of our at- 
 tention : " Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song ; with Historical and 
 Traditional Notes relative to the Manners and Customs of the Peasantry, 
 
 * The popular rhymes of Scotland, Edinburgh, 1826, p. 208. 
 
 118. From a stall copy, printed about thirty years ago, and two recited copies, Mr. 
 F. gives this version. Other editions of it are very common. One is in the Ballad 
 book. 
 
 119. This fragment relates to the burning of Auchindown in 1592. Some additional 
 stanzas are given in Laing's Thistle of Scotland, p. 106. 
 
Ixxxviii. 
 
 Now first published by R. H. Cromek, F. A. S. Editor of " The Reliques 
 of Robert Burns," London, 1810, 2 vols. 8vo. Whether the Editor's ig- 
 norance was imposed on, or whether he knowingly connived at the decep- 
 tion practiced on the publick, I know not; but certainly there never was, 
 and never can be, a more bare-faced attempt made to gull ignorance than 
 what this work exhibits. It professes to give as ancient ballads and songs, 
 things which must have been written under the nose of its Editor. It al- 
 ters or disguises others, and says these interpolated copies are the only ge- 
 nuine and perfect versions, and that all else is vitiated or incomplete. More 
 pretention, downright impudence, and literary falsehood, seldom or ever 
 come into conjunction. It has not one single ancient ballad within its four 
 corners, excepting a portion of " Gil Brenton," which is inlaid in a frame of 
 modern imitation, and a stanza or two of " Hynd Henry and May Marge- 
 rie," a story similar to that of " Jellon Graeme." Regarding the parties 
 employed, and their manner of getting up this work, some additional infor- 
 mation can be had by consulting M'Taggart's Gallovidian Dictionary, if 
 any dependance can be placed on that printed mass of mingled sense and ab- 
 surdity. 
 
 Thomas Evans* <' Collection of Old Ballads," originally published in 
 1777, in two volumes; afterwards enlarged and republished in 1784, in 4 
 volumes, was latterly remodelled and revised by his son, R. H. Evans, un- 
 der whose care a new edition came forth in 1810. The sources from which 
 the materials of these volumes were chiefly obtained, its Editor states to 
 have been the Pepysian and Roxburgh collections. The only ballad which 
 relates to our present object in this publication, is the 
 
 120. Memorables of the Montgomeries. 
 
 120. Said to be re-printed from a pamphlet published at Glasgow, 1770, 4to, by R. & 
 A. Foulis, and there said to be printed "from the only ropy known to remain, which 
 had been preserved above 60 years by the care of Hugh Mon'tgomerie, senior, at Eagles- 
 ham, being one of the factors of the family of Eglinton." It consists of 34 stanzas, and 
 
Ixxxix 
 
 121. THE BATTLE OF CORICHIE. 
 
 In 1814, a valuable work* to which we have often had occasion to refer, 
 was published at Edinburgh, the joint labour of three eminent scholars, 
 Henry Weber, Robert Jamieson, and Sir Walter Scott. The department 
 of the volume undertaken by Mr. Jamieson, being " Popular, Heroic, and 
 Romantic ballads, translated from the Northern languages," establishes the 
 singular coincidence which exists betwixt the ballads of Scotland, and those 
 of Denmark and Sweden, not only in their incidents, but also in those cha- 
 raoteristick peculiarities of phraseology and expression, which distinguish 
 our Traditionary songs. To those fond of tracing the obvious connexion 
 thus existing in the traditions, and popular poetry of countries long sepa- 
 rated from each other, the writings of Mr. Jamieson must ever prove 
 "both pleasing and profitable;" and there are few who know anything 
 of the subject on which he has bestowed so much attention, and reflected so 
 much light, but will readily subscribe to almost every one of the philoso- 
 phick and ingenious views he has so well expressed, in the dissertation 
 which precedes his masterly translations. To point out some of the strik- 
 insr resemblances between the Scottish and Scandinavian ballad, it is only 
 necessary to refer the reader to the translation of Skion Ayinie, given in 
 " Popular Ballads," for comparison with the ballad of Fair Annie, founded 
 on the same incidents ; — To the ballads of Young Child Dyring, page 
 335 of the work now noticed, and Catharine Janfarie, of the Minstrelsy 
 of the Border ; — To Ingefred and Gudrtine, page 340, the subject of which 
 
 however flattering it may be to family pride, it has nothing to interest the genera] read- 
 er. It smacks very much of the luminous compositions which occasionally drop from 
 the pens of country Schoolmasters and parish clerks, when laying aside their birken wands 
 they betake them to more intellectual sources of enjoyment. 
 
 121. Said to be written by one Forbes, a Schoolmaster on Deeside. 
 • Illustrations of Northern Antiquities, from the earlier Teutonic and Scandinavian 
 Romances: being an abstract of the Book of Heroes and Nibelungen Lay, with trans- 
 lations of Metrical Tales, from the old German, Danish, Swedish, and Islandic lan- 
 guages. Edinburgh, 1814, 4to. 
 
 m 
 
xc 
 
 is the same with that of Cospatrick, Botliwell, or Gil Brenton; but there is 
 an unedited ballad in Scotland, which is a nearer approximation to the 
 Danish Song, inasmuch as the substitution of the maiden sister for the real 
 bride, constitutes a prominent feature of the tale ; — To Ribolt and Gtildborg, 
 page 317, whose affinity to the Child of Bile, Erlinton, and The Douglas 
 Tragedy cannot be mistaken ; — To Sir Stig and Lady ToreUld, page 344, 
 which resembles Willie' fi Lady, in the Border Minstrelsy; — To Sir Wal 
 and Lisa Lyle; — Fair Midel and Kirsten Lyle, which ballads find a coun- 
 terpart in a Scottish ballad, called Leisoine Brand, (not edited,) though 
 their catastrophes differ. In the Scottish ballad, after the lady and her child 
 die, the mother of Leisome Brand gives her sorrowing son a phial contain- 
 ing three drops of Peter's blood, two of which let fall on the one, and the 
 third on the other, have the effect of restoring both lady and child to life. 
 Others of the ballads translated from the Danish, have parallels in Scotland ; 
 but this would lead into a field of enquiry too extensive. This work has 
 now been noticed, principally because it preserves an interesting relick of 
 ancient Scottish Song, entitled, 
 
 122. CHILD ROWLAND AXD FAIR BLRD HELEN'. 
 
 a legend still current in the nursery. 
 
 " A Collection of Ancient and Modern Scottish Ballads, Tales, and 
 Songs, with explanatory notes and observations, by John Gilchrist. Edin • 
 burgh, 1813." This is a sensible and judicious selection, in two volumes, 
 compiled from works already noticed. 
 
 " The British Minstrel, a selection of Ballads, ancient and modern ; with 
 Notes, Biogi-aphical and Critical, by John Struthers, author of the Poor 
 Man's Sabbath, Glasgow, 1821,'" 2 vols. 12mo. In his preface, the Editor 
 has favoured the world with a few of his own opinions on old ballads and 
 their authors, neither very remarkable for novelty nor truth ; and conceived 
 in any thing but good taste. This work does not profess to make any addi- 
 tion to our list of traditionary ballads ; but at p. xxv, of the preface, for 
 
XCI 
 
 the purpose of illustrating some observation, the editor gives the following 
 ballad, which is of some aatiquity, and of considerable popularity: — 
 
 123. THE WYLIE WIFE OF THE HIE TOWN HIE. 
 
 " Select Remains of the Ancient Popular Poetry of Scotland, Edinburgh, 
 1824, 4to." This interesting and curious volume, edited with singular 
 judgment and fidelity by my friend ]Mr. Laing, contains three pieces that 
 may be classed along with the compositions now engaging our attention. 
 They are — 
 
 124. ANE BALLAT OJF THE NINE NOBLES. 
 
 125. DEFENCE OF THE SCOTS. 
 
 126. THE BLUDY SERK. 
 
 123. The first lacuna in Mr. S.'s copy may be supplied by a stanza of frequent occur- 
 rence in all ballads recording the mishaps of bonnie lasses, and which need not be re- 
 peated. The last break in his copy is thus supplied by a recited version : 
 
 Aye she sat, and aye she grat, 
 
 And kaim'd her yellow hair; 
 And aye she curs'd the hostler's wife, 
 That wysit her in at the door, 
 and after the stanza which concludes Mr. S.'s copy, follows, . 
 
 Aye she sat, and aye she sang. 
 
 And kaim'd her yellow hair; 
 And aye she bless'd the hostler's wife. 
 
 That wysit her in at the door. 
 
 So short sighted are we poor mortals, that what at one time we deem the direst mishap 
 which could befall us, we afterwards welcome as our best boon. 
 
 124. " Occurs," says Mi'. Laing, " at the end of the large and splendid copy of For- 
 dun's Chronicle, in the University library of Edinburgh, and is written in the same 
 hand with the rest of the manuscript." The nine nobles, commemorated in this ballad, 
 are Hector, Alexander, Caesar, Joshua, David, Judas Machabeus, Arthus, Charlemagne, 
 Godfrey of Bullogne, and llnbert the Brus. 
 
 125. The lines entitled " The Duik of Orlyance, in Defence of the Scots," are " tran- 
 scribed from the Maitland collection of Scottish poetry, deposited in the Pepysian Lib- 
 rary, Cambridge, and are nearly an extract, with some occasional variations, from An- 
 drew of Wintown's Chronicle." — Laing. 
 
 .126. Is from the pen of Robert Henryson, a Scottish Poet of considerable celebrity, 
 who lived about the latter part of the fifteenth century. Its subject is taken from the 
 Gesla Romanonc m 
 
xeu 
 
 " Scarce Ancient Ballads, many never before published, Aberdeen, 1822," 
 a thin duodecimo, contains a ballad till then unknown to our collections, 
 entitled : 
 
 127. THE HIRE MAN CHIEL. 
 
 "The Scottish Minstrel, a selection from the Vocal Melodies of Scotland, 
 ancient and modern, arranged for the Piano-Forte, by R. A. Smith," in six 
 volumes, the last of which was published in 1824, a work, valuable for the 
 many original pieces of musick, contributed by the distinguished composer 
 who superintended its progress through the press, contains in its 4th vo- 
 lume, published in 1822, the following ballad, viz. 
 
 128. GLENLOGIE. 
 
 " The Thistle of Scotland ;'-a collection of Ancient Ballads, with notes, 
 by Alexander Laing, Aberdeen, 1823," contains 
 
 129. THE RANTIN LADDIE. 
 
 130. THE BATTLE OF ALFORD. 
 
 128. Another version is given in Mr. Sharpe's Ballad Book, Edinburgh, 1824, and 
 two years afterwards it appeared in " The Popular Rhymes of Scotland," with this an- 
 nouncement : We subjoin a ballad never before published, in which they are styled gay, 
 (the writer is speaking of the Gordons,) and in which a fine treat of their personal man- 
 ners is preserved." p. 200. — It is said the one half of the world does not know how the 
 other half lives, and it would seem from the above quotation, that one half of the litera- 
 ry population either forgets or is in happy ignorance of what its other half has written. 
 Of the two versions, that in the Scottish Minstrel is the more poetical. Some unac- 
 countable liberties are taken with the songs printed in that work, and many emendations 
 and alterations, singularly infelicitous, nay ridiculous and childish, have been made, pro- 
 ceeding no doubt from the scrupulous delicacy of that parliament of Gentle Ladyes, to 
 whose charge the litei'ary department of it belonged. An index of expurgated passages 
 \vould form a curious comment on these fair editors. Though decidedly hostile to all 
 interpolation and castration of ancient song, we cannot in courtesy do battaile with such 
 combatants. 
 
 129. This was omitted to be noticed as having first appeared in the Museum. 
 
 130. This is a fragment. The battle was fought July 3d, 164G. 
 
XCIU 
 131. ROB ROY. 
 
 " The Common Place Book of Ancient and Modern Ballads, and Met- 
 rical Legendary Tales, an Original Selection, many never before published. 
 Edinburgh, 1824," is noticed for the purpose of mentioning that such of its 
 ballads as are for the first time published, are all modem. 
 
 " A Ballad Book," a little fairy volume under this title was printed for 
 private distribution, by its editor C. K. Shaipe, Esq. in 1824. It contains 
 many curious pieces, " gathered," as its address to the " Courteous Read- 
 er" declareth, <' from the mouths of nurses, wet and dry, singing to their 
 babes and sucklings, dairy maids pursuing their vocation in the cow-house, 
 and tenants' daughters while giving the Lady (as every Laird's wife was 
 once called,) a spinning day, whilom an anniversary tribute in Annandale." 
 Besides giving different versions of a number of ballads noticed in their pro- 
 per place, it presents us with the following for the first time, published in a 
 collected shape: 
 
 132. DYSMAL. 
 
 133. GLASGOW PEGGIE. 
 
 134. FAIR MARGARET OF CRAIGNARGAT. 
 
 135. O ERROL it's A BONNY PLACE. 
 
 131. The subject of this is the abduction of Jane Kay, by a son of the celebrated Rob 
 Roy. 
 
 132. Is founded on the Italian story of the Prince of Saleno's daughter. In some 
 copies the lady is named " Isbel," in others, " Diamond," which approaches nearer 
 Ghismonda than the uncouth Dysmal. 
 
 133. This song is common in stalls, under this title, or that of the " Earl of Hume," 
 or the " Banks of Omey ; " in Kinloch's ballads is another version. 
 
 134. Was a common stall ballad sixty years ago, at least the copies I have met with 
 are about that time. It is populai- in "the West Country. Mr. Sharpe's copy, taken 
 from recitation, agrees with the printed copy. Craignarget is a promontory in the Bay 
 of Luce. ""^ 
 
 135 and 136. Are founded on domestick history, and comparatively recent. The lat- 
 ter is a very common ballad ; of the first several sets have been published, see Buchan's 
 Gleanings, yorth Country Garland. 
 
XCIV 
 136. RITCHIE STORIE. 
 
 A yet more slender volume appeared in the same year, edited by James 
 Maidment, Esq. and like the Ballad Book, its impression was limited to 
 thirty copies. Its title, is, A North Countrie Garland. Many of the 
 pieces in it had never before been published. Small as is the volume, it 
 makes considei'able addition to our catalogue of ancient ballads. 
 
 137. LORD THOMAS STEWART. 
 
 138. THE BURNING OF FRENDREUGH. 
 
 139. LORD SALTON AND AUCHANACHIE, 
 140 BONNY JOHN SETON. 
 
 141. BURD HELEN AND YOUNG TAMLENE, 
 
 142. EPPIE MORRIE. 
 
 Mr. Peter Buchan, an industrious and successful collector of local and tra- 
 ditionary Song, published at Peterhead in 1825, a modest little volume, en- 
 titled " Gleanings of Scotch, English, and Irish scarce old ballads, chiefly 
 Tragical and Historical, many of them connected with the localities of Aber- 
 deenshire, and to be found in no other collection extant, with explanatory 
 notes." A portion of the materials contained in this collection, has been 
 anticipated in the notice taken of the " North Countrie Garland." Besides 
 a variety of curious songs and minute information relative to their localities 
 and authors, which, however, are from their nature foreign to our present 
 ]>urpose, the Gleanings furnish these ballads not hitherto noticed, viz. 
 
 139. This ballad I have seen more perfect in a version recovered by P. Buchan. 
 
 140. Sir John Seton, the subject of the ballad, was killed at the battle of the Bridge 
 of Dee, June, 1639. The ballad is also to be found in " Buchan 's Gleanings." 
 
 , 1 ^ s^ ' 141 and 142. Both these ballads are very popular, and various sets of them are to be 
 
 T* ' .. , , found traditionally current. The last is a common stall ballad ; another version of it is 
 
 r ' ' in Mr. Kinloch's ballads, who seeks to identify its hero with James V. when he went 
 
 ' to France in 1536, in quest of a wife. 
 
xcv 
 
 143. THE EARL OF ABOYNE. 
 
 144. LORD THOMAS OF AVIXSBERRY. 
 
 The end of last year (1826,) saw the publicatioa of a work long and 
 anxiously desired by his countrymen, " The Songs of Scotland," edited by 
 Mr. Allan Cunningharae. It came out prefaced with an eloquent and dis- 
 cursive essay, in which the genius of the poet, and the disci-iraination of 
 the man of taste are more apparent than the skill of the antiquarian, or 
 the labour of tlie collector. The announcement of this work, some years 
 ago, had excited much interest in this part of the island, and much was ex- 
 pected from it. The confidence reposed in the abilities of its intended edi- 
 tor was unbounded. The opportunities he enjoyed, in early life, of be- 
 coming perfectly and practically acquainted with all that was truly valuable 
 and worthy of preservation in the oral song of his native land, and with the 
 manners and domestick habits of those in whose memory that song lived, 
 were known; while the prosecution of congenial pursuits, and the eminent 
 success with which he had himself cultivated the Lyrick Muse, ensured an 
 adequate knowledge of all that was worth selection from its stores of Writ 
 ten Song. Added to which, his admiration of living and departed genius? 
 and the devout love which his writings ever breathed towards the land of his 
 birth, were all so many guarantees that this self-imposed and self-suggested 
 task, would be diligently, faithfully, judiciously, and intrepidly discharged. 
 Perhaps too much was expected. When it did appear, its execution came 
 not up to the wishes of his friends ; nor did it realize the sanguine hopes of 
 those who could most competently judge of its merits. 
 
 The apology for this will be, that the work was meant to be popular; 
 that the tastes of the many had to be consulted more than the sober appro- 
 bation of the few, and above all, that special heed had to be paid to the 
 humours of that great market in which the principal part of the commodity 
 was to be vended. This matter lies between the publisher and the author; 
 and how much the latter may have been fettered and circumscribed in his 
 
xcvm 
 
 guage, everywhere, and everyday, breathing of more vicious and decided 
 immorality and lax principle, than ever the most licentious and outspoken 
 lyricks of our fathers can have pretensions to. When a song is inimical to 
 virtue, and unfit to he heard by modest ears, let it utterly perish without a 
 sigh, and above all, and for any sake, without a comment. To give part 
 and withhold part, while that which is withheld furnishes the scrupulous 
 editor with subject for some smart and sly note, only provokes curiosity, 
 and becomes the sure means of perpetuating what otherwise would have 
 soon, and of itself, slid silently into oblivion. 
 
 The faults of Mr. Cunninghame as an editor have been alluded to gene- 
 rally: to have condescended on particular instances to prove each charge 
 thus freely and unhesitatingly urged against him, would have savoured of 
 vindictive officiousness. Even as it is, what has been said may look too 
 harsh ; but an honest opinion is worth hearing in an age by far too mealy- 
 mouthed and complimentary for the interests of wholesome learning. When 
 a second edition of his work is called for, it is sincerely to be hoped that 
 the alloy which has injured the beauty and value of the first, will be care- 
 fully left out. 
 
 To our collection of ancient ballads it does not, as I had reason to hope 
 it would do, supply any additions. Nor are there any interesting but 
 different versions given of ballads already known, which can be depended 
 on as genuine. It is true there is no ballad printed in these volumes (with 
 two or three memorable exceptions) exactly as it is to be found in previous 
 collections ; and it is also true, that the Editor sometimes states that he 
 is indebted for these variations to traditionary copies which he remembers 
 himself, or has recovered; but these are words of course, a kind of profes- 
 sional fiction which the reader may or may not believe, just in proportion 
 to the amount of his own knowledge regarding the subject of which his au- 
 thor treats. 
 
 Very opposite to Mr. Cunninghame's mode of editing early songs, is that 
 of the compiler of " Ancient Scottish Ballads," an octavo volume, which 
 
XCIX 
 
 appeared at Edinburgh, in the beginning of this year. In it the Editor, 
 Mr. Kinloch, has judiciously abstained from all conjectural emendations, 
 and presented to the publick, in the shape he received them, a considerable 
 number of traditionary ballads, principally obtained from recitation in the 
 northern shires. Additional value is given to the volume, by it§ contain- 
 ing the airs to which several of its pieces are chaunted. It appears to me, 
 however, that some of these must have been incorrectly noted. Con- 
 sistent with our plan, the following are the additions which this volume 
 makes to our list of Ancient Ballads ; 
 
 1-45. LORD LOVEL. 
 
 146. BOXXIE ANNIE. 
 
 147. THE DUKE OF ATHOl's NOURICE. 
 
 148. ELFIN KNICHT. 
 
 14G. I am inclined to think this is an Irish ballad, though popular in Scotland. Its 
 Editor has hazarded a note to explain what happens to a corruption in the text. It is 
 on the line 
 
 He made his love a coffin off the Goats of Yarroio. 
 
 " Goats," he says, " signifies inlets where the sea enters;" but in what part of Scot- 
 land he found this signification for a term usually applied to a ditch or drain, is more 
 than I can fathom. We know that by reference toother languages, such a meaning may 
 be made out; but as the word has been substituted by the mistake of the reciter, it is 
 not worth while to make it matter of controversy. A copy of the ballad, in my hands, 
 corrects the error in Mr. K. 's version. ^ 
 
 " Make my love a coffin of the gowd sae yellow, 
 
 " Whare the wood it is dear and the planks thej' are narrow, V-j 6/s /i 
 
 '' And burv mv love on the high banks of Yarrow." ^. — ■ 
 
 Sing fal lal. " =^- /y •' 
 
 They made his love a coffin of the gowd sae yellow, 
 They made his love a coffin of the gowd sae yellow, " 
 And they buried her deep on the high banks of Yarrow. 
 Sing fal lal, de deedle, fal lal, de deedle lair. Oh a Day ! 
 
 147. Not a complete copy. In Buchan's MS. there is, however a perfect version. 
 
 148. This is a traditionary version of the ballad, under the same title in the Pepysian 
 Collection — see Appendix. Another version was published by David Webster, Edin- 
 burgh, in a projected work wliich has reached no farther than the first number. The 
 only thing remarkable in which is, that the Editor states he gives it from the recitation 
 of two ladies, one of whom is his own mother, and the other an honest fishwife of Mus- 
 selburgh. 
 
149. THE LAIRD OF DRUM. 
 
 150. JOCK O' HAZLEGREEN. 
 131. HYNDE ETIN. 
 
 Following out the chronological order adopted at the beginning of these 
 short notices, I am now brought to the present work,* which, besides giving 
 a number of different versions of known ballads, and completing others 
 which were imperfectly recovered by former editors, has made these addi- 
 tions to our traditionary literature: 
 
 150. Is an imperfect copy of the old ballad on which Sir Walter Scott founded his 
 beautiful and popular song of the same name. 
 
 151. Of this ballad Mr. Huchan has recovered a much fuller copy before alluded to. 
 
 * It may here be mentioned in order to obviate an apparent inconsistency that this work 
 was published in detached parts, at considerable intervals of time ; so that before it was 
 wholly completed, other works appeared containing different versions of some ballads 
 here stated as first printed in this work. Thus the three first mentioned ballads, at least 
 different sets of them occur also in works already noticed, Hi/nd Horn and the Bonnie 
 Banks o' Fordie, under the title of " The Duke of Perth's three daughters," will be 
 found in Mr. Kinloch's " Ancient Scottish Ballads," and Johnie Scott, under the title 
 of " Johnie Buneftan, " occurs in the same collection, as well as in " The Gleanings," 
 where it appears under the title of " Lord John," though, in point of fact, the versions 
 given here were published of a prior date to, those in the works alluded to. " Jolinie 
 Scot," is Jack the Little Scot mentioned by llitson, as being a ballad in a MS. collection 
 of John Frazer Tytler, Esq. The epithet litt/e appears to have been given him deri- 
 sively, for in a copy of the same ballad in Mr. Buchan's MS., he appears to have been 
 a man of prodigious stature. The title of that copy is Lang Johnie Moir. The follow- 
 ing passage illustrative of the famous feat of arms accomplished by Johnie Scot was 
 kindly pointed out to me 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 II.) 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." — SnwU's Ac- 
 count of Roman Antiquities recently discovered in Fife, p. 217. The strange name Babylon 
 in the Banks of Fordie, I believe, is a coiTuptiou of Babe Alone, similar to Bard Alane, 
 which frequently occurs in ballads. 
 
CI 
 
 152. HYNDE HORN. 
 
 153. THE BONNIE BANKS o' FORDIE. 
 
 154. JOHNNIE SCOT. 
 
 155. BONNIE SUSIE CLELAND. 
 
 156. THE WEARY COBLE OF CARGILL. 
 
 157. CHILD NORICE. 
 
 158. YOUNG HASTINGS THE GROOM. 
 
 159. BEDESDALE AND WISE WILLIAM. 
 
 160. SWEET AVILLIAM. 
 
 161. YOUNG BEARWELL. 
 
 162. LORD DER WENT WATER. 
 
 163. WILLIE THE widow's SON. 
 
 These ballads, such as they are, have been printed precisely in the form 
 in which they were remembered by the several individuals who sung or 
 recited them. It has been the studious endeavour of the present writer to 
 avoid every thing which savoured of critical emendation. For their rude 
 and ungainly shape, no apology is necessary, nor will any be offered. — They 
 are as they were received, and that is explanation enough. If these re- 
 
 155. Though the lady's name and sirname are specially mentioned by the INIinstrel an- 
 nalist, I have been unable to trace this ballad to any historical source. In its subject it 
 resembles Lady IMaisry. In Italian romance it is mentioned that ladies guilty of incon- 
 tinence wei-e by the laws of Scotland, doomed to the flames ; but this cruel enactment 
 has no foundation, we believe, in the criminal code of the land. 
 
 157. Of this interesting ballad I have since met with a more complete copy under the 
 title of " Babe Nourice." The gloves " lined with the silver grey," should be printed 
 "lined with the silver gris," the rhyme demands this change as well as sense, and the 
 mention of this fur occurs frequently in our Metrical romances as well as early poets. 
 Chaucer's monk is described as having 
 
 " his sieves purfiled at the hond 
 
 " With gi-is, and that the finest in the lond." 
 
 And in Lindsay's Complaynt of the Papingo, the clergy are also characterized as. 
 
 " Cleikand to thame skarlot and cramosye, 
 
 " With raenever martrik grys and ryche armyne." 
 
cu 
 
 liques of early traditionary song are of any value, it is needless to press 
 upon the attention of the reader how imperative the duty falls upon him 
 who undertakes the thankless labour of their publication of presenting them 
 truly as they exist, and no otherwise. What their texts or forms originally 
 were, we have no means of knowing; what they are now, we do know; all 
 then which remains by us to be done, is to transmit that knowledge 
 unimpaired, and with rigid fidelity, to posterity. By publishing in this 
 manner, we stamp upon them all the certainty and authenticity which their 
 shadowy and mutable nature can receive. 
 
 Though the field in which many have reaped, may, by this time, be 
 well deemed nearly bare, yet much is still left for future skill and industry 
 to glean. Those who enjoy opportunities of recovering traditionary song 
 will, it is to be hoped, not overlook them; for the time seems approaching 
 that take the sickle who likes in hand, it will be vain to expect it can reap 
 anything but stubble and profitless weeds. The changes which, within this 
 half century, the manners and habits of our peasantry and labouring 
 classes, with whom this song has been cherished, have undergone, are 
 inimical to its further preservation. They have departed from the stern 
 simplicity of their fathers, and have learned with the paltry philosophers, 
 political quacks, and illuminated dreamers on Economick and Moral 
 science, to laugh at the prejudices, beliefs, and superstitions of elder times. 
 If they could separate, or if those whose follies they ape could separate, 
 the chaff from the wheat, it were well ; but in parting with the antiquated 
 notions of other days, they part also with their wisdom and their virtues. 
 The stream of innovation is flooding far and wide, and ancient land-marks 
 are fast disappeaiing. All this may be mighty well in the eyes of those 
 who have no thought but for the little day which bounds their own existence; 
 but the mind whose sympathies embrace the past, and grasp at the future, 
 cannot view these changes unmoved. Contemplating the rapid decay of 
 much that we have been accustomed to love and venerate in the manners 
 and fireside pleasures of our country's peasantry, our feelings find no unapt 
 
 I 
 
cm 
 
 echo in the words of Burn the Violer, the last, properly speaking, of oiar 
 Scottish Minstrels: 
 
 But Burn cannot his Grief asswage, 
 
 While that liis Day endureth, 
 To see the changes of this Age, 
 
 Which fleeting Time procui-eth. 
 For many a place stands in hard case, 
 
 Where Burn was blythe beforrow; 
 W^ith Homes that dwelt on Leader Side, 
 
 And Scots that dwelt in Yarrow. 
 
 To many it may appear a foolish labour, this of gatheri ng old ballads. 
 Were it worth while, it were easy to vindicate such pursuits, and to point 
 out their utility; but as this exception can only be taken by the superficial 
 thinker and the sciolist, it is of little moment to enlighten their understand- 
 ing on the subject. The ignorant are happy, it is said, and sorry should 
 we be with any impertinent knowledge to disturb their bliss. It was fool- 
 ish in the Syrens to crack their throats with song, when the cautious Ulysses 
 had sealed his ears with wax. 
 
 If the present writer is coiTect in claiming for these minstrel productions 
 an era of high antiquity, he would contend, that the melodies to which they 
 are yet uniformly chaunted, must have been coeval with their composition ; 
 and that these therefore are by far the oldest tunes, if tunes, some of them 
 may be called, which we now possess. Several of these chaunts have al- 
 ready been laid before the publick ; but like the words themselves, they 
 have too often passed through a process of refinement, which has militated 
 against their individuality and primitive character. A few of the simple 
 airs to which some of these old ballads are sung, have been added to this 
 volume. For noting them down, the editor has to return his grateful ac- 
 knowledgements to his friend Mr. Andrew Blaikie, who kindly devoted 
 much of his valuable time to this laborious task. The accuracy with which 
 they are noted down and engraved, is worthy of all commendation. 
 
civ 
 
 For the cliaracteristick etchings which embellish the volume, I am in- 
 debted to the burin of my friend Mr. Henderson, of Glasgow. 
 
 While I am thus expressing my obligations for favours received. I might 
 catalogue a host of friends, who have been most unremitting in t-heir endea- 
 vours to forward my wishes in various important matters connected with 
 this volume. In the course of the work I have taken occasion to mention 
 how much I have been indebted to several distinguished individuals, for 
 kind services rendered me, whose names now I need not again repeat ; but 
 in closing accounts, I would prove bankrupt in gratitude, were I not to 
 mention with warmest thanks, my friends Dr. Andrew Crawfurd of Loch- 
 winnoch, Mr. Robert Allan of Kilbarchan, and Mr. Peter Buchan of Pe- 
 terhead, as having rendered me most essential help in procuring copies of 
 ballads not hitherto printed, and different sets of others already edited. 
 
 If, in compiling this book, I had submitted each difficulty which occurred 
 to myself during its progress, to the consideration of writers who have al- 
 ready distinguished themselves in this walk of literature, and had taxed 
 their politeness, by soliciting information on every point where I found my 
 own knowledge inadequate, it certainly would have come forth to the pub- 
 lick much freer of errors, and much more valuable in regard to its materi- 
 als, than what it now can pretend to do. Like a parasitical plant, it would 
 have derived fresh vigour, verdure, and beauty, from each new and no- 
 ble stem to which it had successively clung for existence. But though 
 well awai'e, that in the book-making fashions of the day, such liberties are 
 neither uncommon nor are looked on as either obtrusive or strange, I re- 
 membered me, that it was unseemly and unknightly to claim fellowship 
 with veterans in arms, till there had been a poor endeavour made to win 
 courtesy, by undertaking some solitary probationary adventure, however 
 inglorious or unsatisfactorily its termination might prove. The fruit of my 
 Errantry in an obscure path hath been this little quarto. 
 
 In parting with it, I am not blind to its many imperfections; and though 
 to these imperfections I can half reconcile myself as being in part caused 
 
cv 
 
 by circumstances placed beyond my controul, they are yet of that nature 
 which obliges me, once for all, to crave the indulgence of both the candid 
 and the courteous reader. Conscientiously I can avow it was from no lack 
 of a willing heart that I have failed in rendering this volume so valuable aa 
 I could have wished. But for these faults of omission and commission in 
 the words of an old writer,* " I refene me wholy to the learned correc- 
 tion of the wise; for wel I wote, that no treatise can alwayes be so work- 
 manly handled, but that somewhat sometymes may fall out amisse, contra- 
 rie to the minde of the wryter, and contrarie to the expectation of the 
 reader: wherefore, my petition to thee. Gentle Reader, is to accept those 
 my traveyles wyth that minde I doe offer them to thee, and to take gently 
 that I give gladly, in so doing, I shall thinke ray paynes well bestowed, and 
 shall bee encouraged hereafter to trust miore unto thy courtesie." 
 
 ISth October, 1827. 
 
 * Hill's Physiognomy, London, 1571. 
 
 ERRATUM. 
 For 141 and 142, Foot Note, p. xciv. reat/— 143 and 144. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 EARL MARSHALL, 1 
 
 THE TWA CORBIES, 7 
 
 SIR PATRICK SPENS, 9 
 
 JOHXIE O' BRAIDISLEE, 17 
 
 JOHNIE o' BRAIDISBANK, 23 
 
 THE MASTER OF WEMYSS, 24 
 
 HALBERT THE GRIM, 30 
 
 HYND HORN, 35 
 
 BONNIE GEORGE CAMPBELL, 4-4 
 
 YOUNG BENJIE, 46 
 
 SIR HUGH, OR THE JEW's DAUGHTER, 51 
 
 THE LAIRD o' LOGIE, 56 
 
 THE TWA BRITHERS,.., 60 
 
 THE crusader's FAREWELL, 66 
 
 MAY COLVIN, 67 
 
 LADY MAISRY, 71 
 
 THE BONNY EARL OF MURRAY, 78 
 
 THE BONNY EARL OF MURRAY, 80 
 
 YOUNG WATERS, 82 
 
 LADY MARY AN'N, 86 
 
 BABE ALONE, OR THE BONNIE BANKS o' FORDIE, 88 
 
 THE D^MON LOVER, 92 
 
 a 
 
11 
 
 PAGE 
 
 SIR CAULINE, 99 
 
 SIR ROLAND, i24 
 
 FAUSE FOODRAGE, 131 
 
 FAIR JANET, 1^9 
 
 CLERK SAUNDERS, 14*7 
 
 WILLIE AND MAY MARGARET, 1^5 
 
 THE cavalier's SONG, - 1^9 
 
 THE FIRE OP FRENDRAUGHT, 161 
 
 LORD INGRAM AND CHIEL WYET, 1^3 
 
 THE DOUGLAS TRAGEDY, 180 
 
 WILLIAM AND MARJORIE, 186 
 
 THE BROOM BLOOMS BONNIE, &C 189 
 
 YOUNG JOHNSTONE, 193 
 
 EARL ROBERT, 200 
 
 JOHNIE SCOT, 204 
 
 EARL RICHARD, 218 
 
 BONNIE SUSIE CLELAND, 221 
 
 CATHERINE JOHNSTONE, 225 
 
 THE WEARY COBLE o' CARGILL, 230 
 
 LADY MARJORIE, 234 
 
 ANDREW LAMMIE 239 
 
 THE DOWIE DOWNS o' YARROW, 252 
 
 THE QUEEN OF MAY, HER SONG, 256 
 
 GIL MORRICE, 260 
 
 CHIELD MORICE, 269 
 
 CHILDE MAURICE, 276 
 
 CHILD NORICE, 282 
 
 YOUNG HASTINGS THE GROOM, 287 
 
 LAMBERT LINKIN, .'. 290 
 
 REEDESDALE AND WISE WILLI4M, 298 
 
Ill 
 
 PAGE 
 
 BARBARA LIVINGSTON, 304 
 
 SWEET WII-LIAM, ^^' 
 
 MARY HAMILTON, ^^^ 
 
 SIR JAMES THE ROSE, 321 
 
 FAIR ANNIE, "''" 
 
 BILLIE ARCHIE, 335 
 
 SON DAVIE, SON DAVIE, 339 
 
 THE WEE, MEE MAN, 343 
 
 YOUNG BEARWELL, ''*'^' 
 
 LORD DERWENTWATER, 349 
 
 THE JOLLY GOSHAWK, -^''"^ 
 
 GIPSIE DAVY, 360 
 
 WILLIE AVALLACE, "'"* 
 
 SWEET WILLIE AND LADIE MARJORIE, 370 
 
 377 
 EARL RICHARD, '" ' 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 THE ELFIN KNIGHT, * 
 
 WILLIE AND MAY MARGARET, 1" 
 
 LORD JAMIE DOUGLAS, • ^ 
 
 JOHN THOMSON AND THE TURK, XI 
 
 MUSICK, . ^^ 
 
MINSTRELSY, 
 
 ANCIENT AND MODERN. 
 
 EARL MARSHALL. 
 
 This excellent and highly humorous ballad is printed in the second volume 
 of Percy's Reliques, under the title of " Queen Eleanor's Confession." The 
 present version has been recovered fi-om recitation ; and though it differs 
 but little from that given in the Reliques, it is presumed, on the whole, to 
 be more correct and spirited. The learned Editor of the work referred to, 
 justly observes, that the ballad itself is entirely fabulous : for, though the 
 gallantries of Queen Eleanor were the chief grounds of the dissolution of 
 hej- marriage with Louis the VII. of France, her conduct, in so far as fidelity 
 to the bed of her second husband, Henry II. of England, had concern, was 
 quite irreproachable. The tune to which this ballad is sung will be given 
 at the end of the work. In singing, the two last lines of each stanza are 
 repeated. 
 
 QuEENE Eleanor was a sick woman, 
 
 And sick just like to die ; 
 And she has sent for two fryars of France 
 
 To come to her speedilie. 
 
 And she has sent, &c. 
 
 I. A 
 
2 
 
 The king called downe his nobles all, 
 
 By one, by two, by three : 
 " Earl Marshall I'll go shrive the qiieene, 
 
 And thou shalt wend with mee." 
 
 " A boone, a boone," quoth Earl Marshall, 
 
 And fell on his bended knee ; 
 " That whatsoever the queene may say. 
 
 No harm thereof may bee." 
 
 " O you'll put on a gray friar's gowne. 
 
 And I'll put on another ; 
 And we will away to fair London town. 
 
 Like friars both together." 
 
 " O no, O no, my liege, my king, 
 
 Such things can never bee ; 
 For if the Queene hears word of this. 
 
 Hanged she'll cause me to bee." 
 
 " I swear by the sun, I swear by the moon. 
 
 And by the stars so hie. 
 And by my sceptre, and my crowne. 
 
 The Earl Marshall shall not die." 
 
3 
 
 The King s put on a gray friar's gowne, 
 Tlie Earl Marshall's put on another, 
 
 And they are away to fair London towne. 
 Like fryars both together. 
 
 When that they came to fair London towne, 
 
 And came into \\Tiiitehall, 
 The bells did ring and the quiristers sing. 
 
 And the torches did light them all. 
 
 And when they came before the Queene, 
 They kneeled down on their knee ; 
 
 " \VTiat matter! what matter! our gracious Queene, 
 You've sent so speedilie ?" 
 
 " Oh, if you are two fryars of France 
 
 Its you that I wished to see ; 
 But if you are two English lords 
 
 You shall hang on the gallowes tree." 
 
 " Oh, we are not two English lords, 
 
 But two fryars of France we bee, 
 And we sang the Song of Solomon, 
 
 As we came over the sea." 
 
4 
 
 " Oh, the first vile sin I did commit, 
 
 Tell it I will to thee : 
 I fell in love with the Earl Marshall, 
 
 As he brought me over the sea." 
 
 " Oh, that was a great sin," quoth the king, 
 
 " But pardon'd it must bee." 
 " Amen ! Amen !" said the Earl Marshall, 
 
 With a heavie heart spake hee. 
 
 " Oh the next sin that I did commit, 
 
 I will to you unfolde : 
 Earl Marshalle had my virgin dower 
 
 Beneath this cloth of golde." 
 
 " Oh, that was a vile sin," said the King, 
 
 " May God forgive it thee." 
 " Amen ! Amen !" groaned the Earl Marshall, 
 
 And a very frightened man was hee. 
 
 " Oh, the next sin that I did commit. 
 
 Tell it I will to thee : 
 I poisoned a lady of noble blood 
 
 For the sake of King Henrie."* (vide page e.) 
 
" Oh, that was a great sin," said the King, 
 
 " But pardoned it shall bee." 
 " Amen ! Amen !" said the Earl Marshall, 
 
 And still a frightened man was hee. 
 
 " Oh, the next sin that ever I did. 
 
 Tell it I will to thee : 
 I have kept strong poison this seven long years 
 
 To poison King Henrie." 
 
 " Oh that was a great sin," said the King, 
 
 " But pardoned it must bee." 
 " Amen ! Amen !" said the Earl Marshall, 
 
 And still a frightened man was hee. 
 
 " Oh, dont you see two little boys 
 
 Playing at the football ; 
 Oh, yonder is the Earl Marshall's son, 
 
 And I like him best of all. 
 
 " Oh, dont you see yon other little boy 
 
 Playing at the football ; 
 Oh, that one is King Henrie*s son, 
 
 And I like him worst of all. 
 
" His head is like a black bull's head — 
 
 His feet are like a bear" 
 
 " Wliat matter ! what matter !" cried the King, 
 
 " He's my son and my only heir ! 
 
 »» 
 
 The King plucked off his fryar's gowne, 
 And stood in his scarlet soe red : 
 
 The Queen she turned herself in bed, 
 And cryed that she was betrayde. 
 
 The King lookt o'er his left shoulder, 
 
 And a grim look looked he : 
 " Earl Marshall," he said, " but for my oath, 
 
 Thou hadst swung on the gallowes tree." 
 
 * In the Reliqnes, this stanza runs thus : 
 
 " The next vile thing that ever I did, 
 To you I will discover : 
 
 I poysoned fair Rosamonde 
 
 All in fair Woodstocke bower." 
 
 v^ 
 
 1 
 
THE TWA CORBIES. 
 
 A SCOTTISH BALLAD. 
 
 There were twa corbies sat on a tree 
 
 Large and black as black might be, 
 
 And one the other gan say, 
 
 AVliere shall we go and dine to-day ? 
 
 Shall we go dine by the wild salt sea ? 
 
 Shall we go dine neath the greenwood tree ? 
 
 As I sat on the deep sea sand, 
 
 I saw a fair ship nigh at land, 
 
 I waved my wings, I bent my beak, 
 
 Tlie ship sunk, and I heard a shriek ; 
 
 There they lie, one, two, and three, 
 
 I shall dine by the wild salt sea. 
 
 Come, I will show ye a sweeter sight, 
 
 A lonesome glen and a new slain knight ; 
 
 His blood yet on the grass is hot. 
 
 His sword half drawn, his shafts unshot. 
 
 And no one kens that he lies there. 
 
 But his hawk, his hound, and his lady fair. 
 
8 
 
 His hound is to the hunting gane, 
 His hawk to fetch the wild fowl hame, 
 His lady's away with another mate, 
 So we shall make our dinner sweet ; 
 Our dinner's sure, our feasting free, 
 Come, and dine by the greenwood tree. 
 
 Ye shall sit on his white hause-bane, 
 I will pick out his bonny blue een ; 
 Ye'll take a tress of his yellow hair, 
 To theak yere nest when it grows bare ; 
 The gowden down on his young chin 
 Will do to sewe my young ones in. 
 
 O cauld and bare will his bed be. 
 When winter storms sing in the tree ; 
 At his head a turf, at his feet a stone, 
 He will sleep, nor hear the maiden's moan ; 
 O'er his white bones the birds shall fly, 
 The wild deer bound and foxes cry. 
 
 W\ 
 
SIR PATRICK SPENS 
 
 Lays claim to a high and remote antiquity. It is supposed by .^Bishop 
 Percy to be founded on some event of real history ; but in what age the 
 hero of it lived, or when the fatal expedition, which it records, happened, 
 he confesses himself unable to determine. Sir Walter Scott and Mr. Fin- 
 lay, in their respective collections, concur in assigning it a like foundation, 
 though they disagree as to the historical incident whence it has originated ; 
 while, on the other hand, Mr. Ritson asserts that " no memorial of the sub- 
 ject of the ballad exists in history."* 
 
 Our limits forbid us from giving at length the historical sketches which 
 Sir Walter Scott and Mr. Finlay have brought forward in support of their 
 dijfferent theories ; and we must refer the reader, who wishes to weigh the 
 value of their arguments, to the works themselves. It is enough, at present, 
 to state, that the Editor of the Border ^Minstrelsy inclines to think that the 
 present ballad may record some unsuccessful attempt to bring home Mai'ga- 
 ret, commonly called the Maid of Norway, previous to that embassy de- 
 spatched for her by the Regency of Scotland, after the death of her grand- 
 father, Alexander III. And, though no account of such an expedition appears 
 in history, it is nevertheless ingeniously contended, that its silence cannot 
 invalidate tradition, or form any argument against the probability of such an 
 event — more especially when the meagi'e materials whence Scottish histoiy 
 is derived, are taken into view. Mr. Finlay objects to gi^Hng the ballad, as 
 it stands, so high a claim to antiquity, but suggests that if it be referred to 
 the time of James III., who man-ied Margaret, daughter of the King of 
 Denmark, it would be brought a step nearer probability. 
 
 To both these opinions, however, Ritson's observation applies with over- 
 whelming force. There is no historical evidence of this disastrous ship^vi-eck, 
 
 • Reliques of Ancient Poetry, vol. 1. Border Minstrelsy, vol. 1. Scottish Histo- 
 rical and Romantic Ballads, vol. 1 . p. 4.i. Ritson on Scottish Song, vol. 2, p. 4. 
 
 II. B 
 
10 
 
 either in the embassy for the Maiden of Norway, or in that for the wife of 
 James III. And meagi'e as the sources of our history may be, it seems 
 improbable that an expedition which terminated so fatally, and to which so 
 many of the choicest gallants of the day, and highest nobles of the land, 
 must necessarily have been attached, should fail to be chronicled. Had they 
 fallen in the field of battle, would all memory of them have been lost ? Cer- 
 tainly not. If they perished on the ocean, why is history oblivious of their 
 names ? The very circumstance of a national calamity like this happening 
 by shipv\Teck, being of more rare occurrence than one of equal mag-nitude 
 in time of war, would, we think, be a very mean of securing it a more pro- 
 minent place in the histories of the times. The ballad must therefore be 
 either wholly fabulous^ or it must refer to some other event than any yet 
 spoken of. 
 
 Our own opinion is, that the ballad is founded on authentic history ; and 
 that it records tlie melancholy and disastrous fate of the gallant band which 
 followed in the suite of Margaret, daughter of Alexander III., when she was 
 espoused to Eric of Norway. According to Fordun, * in this expedition 
 many distinguished Nobles accompanied her to Norway to grace her nup- 
 tials ; several of whom perished in a storm while on their return to Scotland. 
 Whoever studies the ballad attentively, and makes due allowance for the 
 transpositions, con-uptions, and intei-polations which must unavoidably have 
 crept into its text, must ultimately become a convert to the opinion we have 
 now advanced. The bitter taunt of the Norwegians to Sir Patrick : 
 
 " Ye Scottishmen spend a' our king's gowd 
 And a' our quccnis fee," 
 
 was without meaning and point formerly — its application is now felt. 
 
 " Paulo tamen ante hoc A sciz. D.3I(!C.LXXXI, desponsata est IMargareta filia regis 
 Alexandri tertii regi Norwegia? Hanigow sive Hericio nuncupate; quae pridie Idus Au- 
 gusti Scotiam relinquens, nobili transfretavit apparatu, cum Waltero Bullok comite, et 
 ejus de Menteth comitissa, una cum abbate de Balmurinach et Bernardo de Monte-alto 
 ac aliis tnultis rniUtihus et nohUihus ; ac in vigilia assumptionis nostra Dominae Norweiam 
 est ingressa et a rege honorifice suscepta, ac ab archiepiscopo illius regni, invita matre 
 ejusdem regis, coronata est. Post vero nuptias solenniter celebratas dicti abbas et Bernar- 
 dns et alii plurcs hi redeundo sunt submersi. — Fordun, lib. x. cap. xxxvii. 
 
11 
 
 The king sits in Dunfermline town, 
 Drinking the blude-red wine : 
 
 " O where will I get a skeely skipper 
 To sail this new ship of mine.'* 
 
 O up and spake an eldern knight, 
 Sat at the king's right knee : 
 
 " Sir Patrick Spens is the best sailor 
 That ever sailed the sea." 
 
 Our king has written a braid letter, 
 And sealed it with his hand, 
 
 And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens, 
 Was walking on the strand. 
 
 " To Noroway, to Noroway, 
 To Noroway o'er the faem ; 
 
 The king's daughter of Noroway, 
 'Tis thou maun bring her hame !" 
 
 The first word that Sir Patrick read, 
 Sae loud loud laughed he ; 
 
 The neist word that Sir Patrick read, 
 The tear blindit his e'e. 
 
12 
 
 " O wha is this has done this deed, 
 
 And tauld the king o' me, 
 To send us out at this time of the year, 
 
 To sail upon the sea ? 
 
 " Be it wind, be it weet, be it hail, be it sleet, 
 
 Our ship must sail the faem ; 
 The king's daughter of Noroway 
 
 'Tis we must fetch her hame." 
 
 • 
 
 They hoysed their sails on Monenday morn 
 
 Wi* a' the speed they may ; 
 They hae landed in Noroway 
 
 Upon a Wodensday. 
 
 They hadna been a week, a week 
 
 In Noroway, but twae, 
 When that the lords o' Noroway 
 
 Began aloud to say : 
 
 " Ye Scottishmen spend a' our king's gowd 
 
 And a' our queenis fee." 
 " Ye lie, ye lie ye liars loud ! 
 
 Fu' loud I hear ye lie ! 
 
13 
 
 " For I hae brought as much white monie 
 
 As gane my men and me — 
 And I hae brought a half-fou o' gude red gowd 
 
 Out owre the sea wi' me. 
 
 " Make ready, make ready my merrymen a' ! 
 
 Our gude ship sails the morn." 
 " Now, ever alake ! my master dear, 
 
 I fear a deadly storm ! 
 
 " I saw the new moon, late yestreen, 
 
 Wi' the auld moon in her arm ; 
 And if we gang to sea, master, 
 
 I fear we'll come to harm." 
 
 They hadna sailed a league, a league, 
 
 A league but barely three. 
 When the lift grew dark, and the wind blew loud 
 
 And gurly grew the sea. 
 
 The ankers brak, and the topmasts lap. 
 
 It was sic a deadly storm ; 
 And the waves came o'er the broken ship 
 
 Till a' her sides were torn. 
 
14 
 
 " O where will I get a gucle sailor 
 
 To take mj helm in hand, 
 Till I get up to the tall topmast 
 
 To see if I can spy land ?" 
 
 " O here am I, a sailor gude, 
 
 To take the helm in hand, 
 Till you go up to the tall topmast — 
 
 But I fear you'll ne'er spy land." 
 
 He hadna gane a step, a step, 
 
 A step, but barely ane. 
 When a boult ^ flew out of our goodly ship. 
 
 And the salt sea it came in. 
 
 " Gae fetch a web o' the silken claith, 
 
 Another o' the twine. 
 And wap them into our ship's side, 
 
 And letna the sea come in." 
 
 They fetched a web o' the silken claith. 
 
 Another o' the twine. 
 And they wapped them roun' that gude ship's side 
 
 — But still the sea came in. 
 
15 
 
 ) 
 
 O laith laith were our glide Scots lords 
 To weet their cork-heeled shoon ! 
 
 But lang or a' the play was played 
 They wat their hats aboon.' 
 
 And mony was the feather bed 
 
 That floated on the faem ; 
 And mony was the gude lord's son 
 
 That never mair came hame. 
 
 The ladyes wrang their fingers white — 
 The maidens tore their hair ; 
 
 A' for the sake of their true loves — 
 For them they'll see na mair. 
 
 O lang lang may the ladyes sit, 
 Wi' their fans into their hand, 
 
 Before they see Sir Patrick Spens 
 Come sailing to the strand ! 
 
 And lang lang may the maidens sit, 
 Wi' their gowd kaims in their hair, 
 
 A' waiting for their ain dear loves — 
 For them they'll see na mair. 
 
16 
 
 O forty miles off Aberdeen ' 
 
 'Tis fifty fathoms deep, 
 And there lies gude Sir Patrick Spens 
 
 Wi' the Scots lords at his feet. 
 
 1 We have taken the liberty of spelUng this word aright, to save com- 
 ments in future. It is unnecessary, almost, to mention that, in pronouncing 
 it, the / is not heard. It seems to us particularly obvious, that " if a bar or 
 bolt (Scottice bout) had loosened," a plank must necessarily have "started." 
 
 2 This stanza we have heard sung, by old people, thus : 
 
 Laith laith were our braw Scots lords 
 
 To weet the era's o' their shoon ! 
 But lang before the spring was played 
 Their hair was wat aboon, 
 Avhich, perhaps, ought to be the genuine reading. The person who sung it 
 said, that eras meant the upper leather of the shoe ; and we are indeljted 
 to him for this information, otherwise we woidd have been at a loss to ex- 
 plain the word. 
 
 3 This line varies very much in diiferent editions. Though in the text 
 we have adhered to that given in the Border Minstrelsy, we are inclined to 
 favour the reading — 
 
 Half owre, half owre to Aberdour. 
 For, with submission to the opinion of Sir W. Scott, tlie meaning of this line 
 is not that the shipwreck took place in the Frith of Forth, but midway be- 
 tween Aberdour and Norway. And, as it would seem from the narrative at 
 the commencement of the ballad, that Sir Patrick sailed fi-om the Forth, it is 
 but fair to infer that in his disastrous voyage homeward, he would endeavour 
 to make the same port. This opinion will be corroborated, if we are cor- 
 rect in assigning the ballad to the historical event mentioned in the introduc- 
 tory 
 
 remarks. 
 
17 
 
 JOHNIE OF BREADISLEE. 
 
 History is silent with regard to tliis young Nimrod. " He appears," says 
 the editor of the Border Minstrelsy, " to have been an outlaw and deer- 
 stealer, — probably one of the broken men residing upon the border. It is 
 sometimes said, that this outlaw possessed the old castle of Morton, in Dum- 
 frieshire, now ruinous." Another tradition assigns Braid, in the neighbour- 
 hood of Edinburgh, to have been the scene of his " woeful hunting." A 
 few stanzas of apparently an older copy of this ballad we have received, and 
 as they possess some merit, we have subjoined them to this copy, (taken 
 fi-om the Border Minstrelsy,) in the hope that the verses awanting may 
 hereafter be supplied. 
 
 JoHxiE rose np in a May morning, 
 Called for water to wash his hands — 
 
 " Gar loose to me the mide o-raie doc;s 
 That are bound wi' iron bands," 
 
 When Johnie's mother gat word o' that, 
 
 Her hands for dule she wrang — 
 " O Johnie ! for my benison, 
 To the grenewood dinna gang !• 
 
 " Eneugh ye hae o' the gude wheat bread, 
 And eneugh o' the blude-red wine ; 
 
 And therefore, for nae venison, Johnie, 
 I pray ye, stir frae hame." 
 
 III. c 
 
18 
 
 But Johnie's busk't up his gude bend bow. 
 
 His arrows, ane by ane ; 
 And he has gane to Durrisdeer 
 
 To hunt the dun deer down. 
 
 As he came down by Merriemass, 
 
 And in by the benty hue, 
 There has he espied a deer lying 
 
 Aneath a bush of ling/ 
 
 Johnie he shot, and the dun deer lap. 
 And he wounded her on the side ; 
 
 But, atween the water and the brae, 
 His hounds they laid her pride. 
 
 And Johnie has bryttled ^ the deer sae weel, 
 That he's had out her liver and lungs ; 
 
 And wi' these he has feasted his bludy hounds, 
 As if they had been erl's sons. 
 
 They eat sae much o' the venison. 
 And drank sae much o' the blude, 
 
 That Johnie and a' his bludy hoiuids 
 Fell asleep, as they had been dead. 
 
 
19 
 
 And by there came a silly auld carle, 
 
 An ill death mote he die ! 
 For he's awa to Hislinton, 
 
 Where the Seven Foresters did lie. 
 
 " Wliat news, what news, ye gray-headed carle, 
 
 Wliat news bring ye to me ?" 
 " I bring nae news," said the gray-headed carle. 
 
 Save what these eyes did see. 
 
 " As I came down by Merriemass, 
 
 And down amang the scroggs,^ 
 The bonniest childe that ever I saw 
 
 Lay sleeping amang his dogs. 
 
 " The shirt that was upon his back 
 
 Was o' the Holland fine ; 
 The doublet which was over that 
 
 Was o' the lincome twine. 
 
 " The buttons that were on his sleeve 
 
 Were o' the goud sae gude ; 
 The gude graie hounds he lay amang, 
 
 Their mouths were dyed wi' blude." 
 
20 
 
 Then out and spak the First Forester, 
 
 The held man ower them a' — 
 If this be Johnie o' Breadislee, 
 
 Nae nearer will we draw." 
 
 But up and spak the Sixth Forester, 
 
 (His sister's son was he) 
 " If this be Johnie o' Breadislee, 
 
 We soon shall gar him die !" 
 
 The first flight of arrows the Foresters shot, 
 They wounded him on the knee ; 
 
 And out and spak the Seventh Forester, 
 " The next will gar him die." 
 
 Johnie's set his back against an aik, 
 
 His fute against a stane ; 
 And he has slain the Seven Foresters, 
 
 He has slain them a' but ane. 
 
 He has broke three ribs in that ane's side, 
 
 But and his collar bane ; 
 He's laid him twa-fald ower his steed. 
 
 Bade him carry the tidings hame. 
 
21 
 
 " O is there na a bonnie bird, 
 
 Can sing as I can say ; 
 Could flee away to my mother's bower, 
 
 And tell to fetcli Johnie away ?"'' 
 
 The starling flew to his mother's window stane, 
 
 It whistled and it sang ; 
 And aye the ower word o' the tune 
 
 Was — " Johnie tarries lang !" 
 
 They made a rod o' the hazel bush, 
 ' Another o' the slae-thorn tree, 
 And mony mony were the men 
 At fetching our Johnie. 
 
 Then out and spak his auld mother, 
 
 And fast her tears did fa' — 
 " Ye wad nae be warned my son Johnie, 
 
 Frae the hunting to bide awa. 
 
 " Aft hae I brought to Breadislee, 
 
 The less gear ^ and the mair. 
 But I ne'er brought to Breadislee, 
 
 What grieved my heart sae sair ! 
 
22 
 
 " But wae betyde that silly auld carle ! 
 
 An ill death shall he die ! 
 For the highest tree in Merriemass 
 
 Shall be his morning's fee." 
 
 Now Johnie's gude bend bow is broke, 
 And his gude graie dogs are slain ; 
 
 And his body lies dead in Durrisdeer, 
 And his hunting it is done. 
 
 1 Ling — Heath. ^ Br i/ttled— 'To cut up venison. See the ancient 
 ballad of Chevy Chace, v. 3. ^ Scroggs — Stunted trees. 
 
 * Perhaps, after this stanza should be inserted the beautiful one preserved 
 by Mr. Finlay, so descriptive, as he justly remarks, of the languor of ap- 
 proaching death. 
 
 There's no a bird in a' this forest 
 Will do as meikle for me, 
 As dip its wing in the wan water. 
 And straik it on my e'e bree. 
 
 s Gear — Usually signifies goods, but here sjml. 
 
 I 
 
23 
 
 JOHNIE OF BRAIDISBANK. 
 
 JoHNiE rose up in a May moi-ning, 
 
 Called for water to wash his hands hands ; 
 
 And he is awa to Braidisbanks, 
 To ding the dun deer down down, 
 To ding the dun deer down. 
 
 Johnie lookit east and Johnie lookit west, 
 
 And its lang before the sun sun ; 
 And there did he spy the dun deer lie, 
 
 Beneath a bush of brume brume, 
 
 Beneath a bush o' brume. 
 
 Johnie shot, and the dun deer lap. 
 
 And he'^ woundit her in the side side ; 
 
 Out then spake his sister's son, 
 
 '< And the neist will lay her pride pride, 
 And the neist will lay her pride." 
 (A stanza rvanting. ) 
 
 They've eaten sae meikle o' the gude venison, 
 
 And they've drunken sae muckle o' the blude blude, 
 
 That they've fallen into as sound a sleep 
 As gif that they were dead dead, 
 As gif that they were dead. 
 (Smic stanzas wanting.) 
 
 " Its doun, and its doun, and its doun doun, 
 And its doun amang the scrogs scrogs ; - 
 
 And there ye'U espy twa bonnie boys lie. 
 Asleep amang their dogs dogs, 
 Asleep amang their dogs." 
 
 CSo7ne stanzas wanting.) 
 
24 
 
 They waukened Joluiie out o' his sleep, 
 And he's drawn to him his coat coat ; 
 
 '* My fingers five save me alive, 
 And a stout heart fail me not not. 
 And a stout heart fail me not ! 
 
 T^ ^ yF 1^ tP 
 
 W^ 
 
 THE MASTER OF WEEMYSS. 
 
 (Never bejbre Published.) 
 
 The Master of Weemyss has biggit a ship, 
 
 To saile upon the sea ; 
 And four-and-twenty bauld marineres, 
 
 Doe beare him companie. 
 
 They have hoistit sayle and left the land, 
 
 They have saylit mylis three ; 
 Wlien up there lap the bonnie mermayd, 
 
 All in the Norland sea. 
 
 " O whare saile ye," quo' the bonnie mermayd, 
 
 " Upon the saut sea faem ?," 
 " It's we are bounde until Norroway, 
 
 God send us skaithless hame ! 
 
25 
 
 Oh Norroway is a gay gay strande 
 
 And a merrie land I trowe; 
 But nevir nane sail see Norroway 
 
 Gin the mermaid keeps her vowe ! 
 
 Down doukit then, the mermayden, 
 
 Deep intil the middil sea ; 
 And merrie leuch that master bauld, 
 
 With his jollie companie. 
 
 They saylit awa, and they saylit awa, 
 
 They have saylit leagues ten ; 
 ^\^[len, lo ! uplap be the gude ship's side 
 
 The self same mermayden. 
 
 Shee held a glass intil her richt hande, 
 
 In the uthir shee held a kame, 
 And shee kembit her haire, and aye shee sang 
 
 As shee flotterit on the faem. 
 
 And shee gliskit round and round about. 
 
 Upon the waters w^an ; 
 O nevir againe on land or sea 
 
 Shall be seen sik a faire woman. 
 
 IV. D 
 
26 
 
 And shee shed the haire off her milk white bree 
 Wi her fingers sae sma' and lang ; 
 
 And fast as sajHt that gude ship on, 
 Sae louder was aye her sang. 
 
 And aje shee sang, and aye shee sang 
 
 As shee rade upon the sea ; 
 " If ye bee men of Christian moulde 
 
 Throwe the master out to mee. 
 
 " Throwe out to mee the master bauld 
 
 If ye bee Christian men ; 
 But an ye faile, though fast ye sayle 
 
 Ye'll nevir see land agen ! 
 
 " Sayle on, sayle on, sayle on," said shee, 
 
 " Sayle on and nevir blinne, 
 The winde at will your saylis may fill. 
 
 But the land ye shall never win !' 
 
 'J 
 
 Its never word spak that master bauld, 
 But a loud laugh leuch the crewe ; 
 
 And in the deep then the mermayden 
 Doun drappit frae their viewe. 
 
27 
 
 But ilk ane kjthit her bonnie face, 
 How dark dark grew its lire ; 
 
 And ilk ane saw her bricht bricht eyne 
 Lemino; like coals o' fire. 
 
 And ilk ane saw her lang bricht hair 
 Gae flashing through the tide, 
 
 And the sparkles o' the glass shee brake 
 Upon that gude ship's side. 
 
 " Steer on, steer on, thou master bauld, 
 
 The wind blaws unco hie ;" 
 " O there's not a sterne in a' the lift 
 
 To ffuide us thro' the sea !" 
 
 " Steer on, steer on, thou master bauld, 
 
 The storm is coming fast ;" 
 " Then up, then up my bonnie boy ^ 
 
 Unto the topmost mast. 
 
 " Creep up unto the tallest mast, 
 
 Gae up my ae best man ; 
 Climb up until the tall top mast 
 
 And spy gin ye see land." 
 
28 
 
 " Oh all is mirk towards the eist. 
 
 And all is mirk be west ; 
 Alas there is not a spot of light 
 
 Where any eye can rest !' 
 
 I" 
 
 " Looke outej look oute my bauldest man, 
 
 Looke oute unto the storme, 
 And if ye cannot get sicht o' land, 
 
 Do you see the dawin o' morn ?" 
 
 " Oh alace, alace my master deare," 
 
 Spak then that ae best man ; 
 " Nor licht, nor land, nor living thing. 
 
 Do I spy on any hand." 
 
 " Looke yet agen my ae best man. 
 
 And tell me what ye do see :" 
 " O Lord ! I spy the false mermayden 
 
 Fast sayling out owre the sea !" 
 
 " How can ye spy the fause mermayden 
 
 Fast sayling on the mirk sea, 
 For there's neither mune nor mornin' licht- 
 
 In troth it can nevir bee." 
 
29 
 
 " O there is neither mune nor mornin' licht, 
 
 Nor ae star's bhnk on the sea ; 
 But as I am a Christian man, 
 
 That witch woman I see ! 
 
 " Good Lord ! there is a scaud o' fire 
 
 Fast coming out owre the sea ; 
 And fast therein the grim mermayden 
 
 Is sayUng on to thee ! 
 
 " Shee hailes our ship wi' a shrill shrill cry — 
 Shee is coming, alace, more near :" 
 
 " Ah \voe is me now," said the master bauld, 
 " For I both do see and hear ! 
 
 " Come doun, come doun my ae best man, 
 
 For an ill weird I maun drie : 
 Yet, I reck not for my sinful self, 
 
 But thou my trew companie !" 
 
30 
 
 HALBERT THE GRIM. 
 
 The following beautiful verses were suggested to the writer of them, by the 
 highly graphic description of the abode of Pluto, given by Matthew Pai'is. 
 — And the gentleman whose character is here attempted to be delineated, 
 is such a person, as, in the estimation of the learned Monk of St. Alban's, 
 was fully entitled to be an inhabitant of the place of terrors. 
 
 Miles quidam, qui vitam, .fuam in ccedlbus innocentiuvi, et torneamentis 
 peregerat, et rapinis. Hie omnibus armis militibus armatus, equo niger- 
 rimo insidebat; qzd piceam Jlammam cmn fcetore spumo per os et nareis 
 cum urgeretur calcaribus, cffiabai — Matt. Paris, p. 219. 
 
 There is blood on that brow ; 
 
 There is blood on that hand ; 
 There is blood on that hauberk, 
 
 And blood on that brand. 
 
 Oh ! bloody all over 
 
 Is his war cloak, I weet ; 
 
 And he's wrapped in the cover 
 Of murder's red sheet. 
 
 There is pity in many : 
 
 Is there any in him ? 
 No ! Ruth is a strange guest 
 
 To Halbert the Grim. 
 
31 
 
 The hardest may soften, 
 
 The fiercest repent ; 
 But the heart of Grim Halbert 
 
 May never relent. 
 
 Death doing on earth 
 
 Is ever his cry ; 
 And pillage and plunder 
 
 His hope in the sky ! 
 
 'Tis midnight, deep midnight, 
 
 And dark is the heaven ; 
 Halbert in mockery, 
 
 Wends to be shriven. 
 
 He kneels not to stone. 
 
 And he bends not to wood ; 
 
 But he swung round his brown blade, 
 And hewed down the Rood. 
 
 He stuck his long sword 
 AVitli its point in the earth ; 
 
 And he prayed to its cross hilt, 
 In mockery and mirth. 
 
32 
 
 Thus lowly he louteth, 
 And mumbles his beads ; 
 
 Then lightly he riseth, 
 
 And homeward he speeds. 
 
 His steed hurries on. 
 
 Darkling and dim ; 
 All fearful it prances, 
 
 With Halbert the Grim. 
 
 Fiercer it tramples, 
 
 The spur gored its side ; 
 
 Now downward and downward 
 Grim Halbert doth ride. 
 
 Tlie brown wood is threaded, 
 The gray flood is passed ; 
 
 And hoarser and wilder 
 Is the moan of the blast. 
 
 No star lends its taper, 
 No moon sheds her glow ; 
 
 For dark is the dull path 
 That Baron must go. 
 
33 
 
 Though dark is the sky, 
 
 And no moon shines abroad, 
 
 Yet, flashing with fire. 
 
 Now oleams the lone road ! 
 
 And his black steed, I trow, 
 
 As it gallopeth on. 
 With a hot sulphur halo, 
 
 And flame-flash, it shone. 
 
 Sheer downward, and downward, 
 
 Slopeth the way; 
 No let hath its progress, 
 
 No gate bids him stay. 
 
 No noise hath his horse-hoof, 
 As downward it sped ; 
 
 But silent it falls, 
 
 As the foot of the dead ! 
 
 All downward, and downward. 
 Rolled body and limb. 
 
 As, careering to hell. 
 Sunk Halbert the Grim. 
 
34 
 
 We are glad to present our readers with the following stanza, (hitherto 
 unpublished,) from the pen of Burns. A circular had been addressed to 
 all the members of the Mason Lodge of Tarbolton, calling a meeting, for 
 the purpose of considering the propriety of expelling those members Avho 
 were in an-ear. Burns could not attend ; and his apology concluded with 
 the following lines, which, though they cannot add to his fame, are hon- 
 ourable to his heart, and accord with the fine feeling which characterises all 
 his writings. 
 
 Within your dear mansion, may wayward contention, 
 
 Or withered envy, ne'er enter ! 
 May secrecy round, be the mystical bound, 
 
 And brotherly love be the centre ! 
 
 * 
 
 4 
 
 1 
 
 i 
 
33 
 
 Though dark is the sky, 
 
 And no moon shines abroad, 
 
 Yet, flashing with fire, 
 
 Now gleams the lone road ! 
 
 And his black steed, I trow. 
 
 As it galloped on. 
 With a hot sulphur halo. 
 
 And flame-flash all shone. 
 
 From nostril and eye, 
 
 Out gushed the pale flame, 
 
 And from its chafed mouth, the 
 Churn'd fire-froth came. 
 
 They are two ! they are two ! — 
 They are coal black as night. 
 
 That now staunchly follow, 
 That grim Baron's flight. 
 
 In each lull of the wild blast, 
 Out breaks their deep yell, 
 
 'Tis the slot of the Doomed One, 
 These hounds track so well. 
 
34 
 
 Oh downward, still downward, 
 
 Slopeth his way ; 
 No let hath his progress, 
 
 No gate bids him stay. 
 
 No noise hath his horse-hoof, 
 
 As onward it sped ; 
 But silent it falls. 
 
 As the foot of the dead ! 
 
 But redder and redder. 
 Flares far its bright eye. 
 
 And harsher these dark hounds, 
 Yell out their fierce cry. 
 
 I 
 
 Sheer downward, and downward, I- 
 
 Then dashed life and limb, 
 As, careering to hell, 
 
 Sunk Halbert the Grim ! ^ 
 
 0v»tc^pv0^»nima^^fufi< 
 
35 
 
 HYND HORN. 
 
 An imperfect copy of this very old Ballad appeared in " Select Scotish 
 Song-s, Ancient and Modem," edited by Mr. Cromek ; but that gentle- 
 man seems not to have been aware of the jewel he had picked up, as it is 
 passed over without a single remark. We have been fortunate enough to 
 recover two copies from recitation, which, joined to the stanzas preserved 
 by Mr. Cromek, have enabled us to present it to the public in its present 
 complete state. Though Hynd Horn possesses no claims upon the read- 
 er's attention, on account of its Poetry, yet it is highly valuable, as illus- 
 trative of the history of Romantic Ballad. In fact, it is nothing else than 
 a portion of the ancient English Metrical Romance of " Kyng Horx," 
 which some benevolent pen, peradventure " for luf of the lewed man," 
 hath stripped of its " quainte Inglis," and given 
 
 " In symple speche as he couthe, 
 
 " That is lightest in manne's mouthe." 
 
 Of this the reader will be at once convinced, if he compares it with the 
 Romance alluded to, or rather with the fragment of the one preseiTed in 
 the Auchinleck MS. entitled, " Home Childe and Maiden Riminild," 
 both of which ancient Poems are to be found in Ritson's Metrical Ro- 
 mances. 
 
 It is perhaps unnecessary to remind the reader, that Hend or HjTid 
 means " courteous, kind, affable," &c. an epithet which, we doubt not, 
 the hero of the Ballad was fully entitled to assume. The tune to which 
 the Ballad is sung, will be given at the end of the volume ; and any other 
 notices we have to offer respecting it, will find a place in the preliminary 
 remarks to accompany the volume. 
 
 V. E 
 
36 
 
 Near Edinburgh was a young child born, 
 With a hej lillelu and a how lo Ian ; 
 
 And his name it was called Young Hjnd Horn, 
 And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie. 
 
 Seven lang years he served the King, 
 With a hey lillelu and a how lo Ian ; 
 
 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 Ian ; 
 
 He sent young Hynd Horn to the sea. 
 
 And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie. 
 
 " Oh I never saw my love before, 
 With a hey lillelu and a how lo Ian ; 
 
 Till I saw her thro' an augre bore. 
 
 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 Ian ; 
 
 With three shinino; diamonds set therein, 
 And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie. 
 
37 
 
 " And I gave to her a silver wand, 
 With a hev hllehi and a how lo km ; 
 
 With three singing laverocks set thereon, 
 And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie. 
 
 " Wliat if those diamonds lose their hue ? 
 
 AVith a hey lillelu and a how lo Ian ; 
 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 hev lillelu and a how lo Ian ; 
 
 Then I'm in love w^ith 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 Ian ; 
 
 And he's stayed there seven years and a day. 
 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 Ian ; 
 
 And Hynd Horn has looked how his ring may be, 
 And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie. 
 
} 
 
 38 
 
 But when he looked this ring upon, 
 
 With a hey Hllehi and a how lo Ian ; 
 The shining diamonds were both pale and wan, 
 
 And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie. 
 
 Oh ! the ring it was both black and blue, 
 
 With a hey lillelu and a how lo Ian ; j 
 
 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 Ian ; 
 
 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 Ian ; 
 For it's seven years since I have seen land, 
 
 And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie. 
 
 " What news ? what news ? thou auld beggar man, 
 With a hey lillelu and a how lo Ian ; 
 
 What news ? what news ? by sea or land ? 
 And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie." 
 
39 
 
 " No news at all, said the auld beggar man, 
 With a hej lillelu and a how lo Ian ; 
 
 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, 
 With a hey lillelu and a how lo Ian ; 
 
 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 Ian ; 
 
 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 Ian ; 
 
 And I'll give to thee my scarlet cloak. 
 
 And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie. 
 
 ^' Wilt thou give to me thy begging staff, 
 With a hey lillelu and a how lo Ian ; 
 
 And I'll give to thee my good gray steed, 
 And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie." 
 
40 
 
 The auld beggar man cast off his coat, 
 With a hej Hllelu and a how lo Ian ; 
 
 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. 
 With a hey lillelu and a how lo Ian ; 
 
 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 Ian ; 
 
 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 Ian ; 
 
 But young Hynd Horn was bound for the bride, 
 And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie. 
 
 When he came to the King's gate, 
 With a hey lillelu and a how lo Ian ; 
 
 He asked a drink for young Hynd Horn's sake. 
 And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie. 
 
41 
 
 These news unto the bonnie bride came, 
 With a hey Hllehi and a how lo Ian ; 
 
 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, 
 With a hey lillelu and a how lo Ian ; 
 
 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 Ian ; 
 
 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 Ian ; 
 
 And she gave him a drink out of her own hand, 
 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 Ian ; 
 
 He drunk out the drink, and dropt in the ring. 
 And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie. 
 
42 
 
 " Got thou it by sea, or got thou it by land ? 
 
 With a hey hllehi and a how lo Ian ; 
 Or crot 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, 
 With a hey lillelu and a how lo Ian ; 
 
 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 Ian ; 
 
 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 Ian ; 
 
 And along with thee I'll beg my bread. 
 
 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 Ian ; 
 
 For I can make thee lady of many a town. 
 And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie. 
 
 
43 
 
 " Thou need not cast off thy gowns of red, 
 With a hey lillelu and a how lo Ian, 
 
 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, 
 
 With a hey lillelu and a how lo Ian ; 
 But young Hynd Horn took the bride to the bed, 
 
 And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie. 
 
 VI. 
 
44 
 
 BONNIE GEORGE CAMPBELL 
 
 Is probably a lament for one of the adherents of the house of Argyle, who 
 fell in the battle of Glenlivat, stricken on Thursday, the third day of Octo- 
 ber, 1594 years.* Of this ballad, Mr. Finlay hatl only recovered three 
 stanzas, which he has given in the Preface to his " Scottish Historical and 
 Romantic Ballads," page xxxiii. introduced by the following remarks: — 
 " There is another fragment still remaining, which appears to have belonged 
 to a ballad of adventure, perhaps of real history. I am acquainted with no 
 poem of which the lines, as they stand, can be supposed to have formed a 
 part." The words and the music of this Lament are published in the fiftli 
 ■ volume of " The Scottish Minstrel." 
 
 Hie upon Hielands 
 
 And low upon Tay, 
 Bonnie George Campbell 
 
 Rade out on a day. 
 Saddled and bridled 
 
 And gallant rade he ; 
 Hame came his gude horse, 
 
 But never cam he ! ' 
 
 Out cam his auld mither 
 Greeting fu' sair, 
 
 Gordon's Genealogical History of the Earldom of Sutherland. 
 
45 
 
 And out cam his boiinie bride 
 
 Rivin' her hair. 
 Saddled and bridled 
 
 And booted rade he ; 
 Toom hame cam the saddle, 
 
 But never cam he ! 
 
 " My meadow lies green, 
 
 And my corn is unshorn ; 
 My barn is to big, 
 
 And my babie's unborn." 
 Saddled and bridled 
 
 And booted rade he ; 
 Toom hame cam the saddle, 
 
 But never cam he ! 
 
46 
 
 YOUNG BENJIE. 
 
 (from the border minstrelsy.) 
 
 Of a* the maids o' fair Scotland, 
 
 The fairest was Marjorie ; 
 And young Benjie was her ae true love. 
 
 And a dear true love was he. 
 
 And wow ! but they were lovers dear, 
 
 And loved fu* constantlie ; 
 But ay the mair when they fell out. 
 
 The sairer was their plea.^ 
 
 And they hae quarrelled on a day, 
 Till Marjorie's heart grew wae, 
 
 And she said she'd chuse another love, 
 And let young Benjie gae. 
 
 And he was stout ' and proudhearted, 
 
 And thought o't bitterlie ; 
 And he's gane by the wan moonlight 
 
 To meet his Marjorie. 
 
47 
 
 " O open, open, my true love, 
 
 O open and let me in !" 
 " I dare na open, young Benjie, 
 
 My three brothers are within." 
 
 " Ye lied, ye lied, my bonnie burd, 
 
 Sae loud's I hear ye lie ; 
 As I came by the Lowden banks 
 
 They bade gude e*en to me. 
 
 • 
 
 " But fare ye weel my ae fause love. 
 That I have loved sae lang ; 
 
 It sets ye^ chuse another love. 
 And let young Benjie gang.' 
 
 ?» 
 
 Then Marjorie turned her round about, 
 
 The tear blinding her e'e, 
 " I dare na, dare na, let thee in, 
 
 But I'll come down to thee." 
 
 Then saft she smiled, and said to him, 
 
 " O what ill hae I dune ?" 
 He took her in his armis twa, 
 
 And threw her o'er the linn. 
 
4-8 
 
 The stream was Strang, the maid was stout, 
 
 And laith, laith to be dang ;* 
 But ere she wan the Lowden's banks 
 
 Her fair colour was wan. 
 
 Then up bespak her eldest brother, 
 
 " O see na ye what I see ?" 
 And out then spak her second brother, 
 
 " Its our sister Marjorie ! 
 
 Out then spak her eldest brother, 
 
 " O how shall we her ken ?" 
 And out then spak her youngest brother, 
 
 " There's a honey-mark on her chin." 
 
 Then they've ta'en up the comely corpse 
 
 And laid it on the ground : 
 " O wha has killed our ae sister, 
 
 And how can he be found ? 
 
 " The night it is her low lykewake, 
 
 The morn her burial day. 
 And we maun watch at mirk midnight, 
 
 And hear what she will say.' 
 
 f 
 
 >) 
 
49 
 
 Wi' doors ajar, and candle light, 
 
 And torches burning clear, 
 The streiket corpse, till still midnight. 
 
 They waked, but naething hear. 
 
 About the middle o' the night 
 
 The cocks began to craw. 
 And at the dead hour o' the night 
 
 The corpse began to thraw. 
 
 " O whae has done the wrang sister, 
 
 Or dared the deadly sin ? 
 Whae was sae stout, and feared nae dout, 
 
 As thraw ye o'er the linn ?" 
 
 " Young Benjie was the first ae man 
 
 I laid my love upon ; 
 He was sae stout and proudhearted 
 
 He threw me o'er the linn." 
 
 " Sail we young Benjie head, sister. 
 
 Sail we young Benjie hang. 
 Or sail we pike out his twa gray een, 
 
 And punish him ere he gang ?' 
 
 >»» 
 
50 
 
 " Ye mauna Benjie head, brothers, 
 
 Ye mauna Benjie hang, ^ 
 
 But ye maun pike out his twa gray een, W 
 
 And punish him ere he gang. 
 
 " Tie a green gravat ^out his neck. 
 
 And lead him out and in, 
 And the best ae servant about your house 
 
 To wait young Benjie on. 
 
 " And aye, at every seven years' end, 
 
 Ye'll tak him to the linn ; 
 For that's the penance he maun dree. 
 
 To scug* his deadly sin." 
 
 ^ Plea — used obliquely for dispute. 
 
 - Stout — through this whole ballad (unless in one instance) signifies 
 haughty. 
 
 ^ Sets ye — becomes you, irony. 
 
 * Dang — defeated. 
 
 ^ Scug — shelter, or expiate. 
 
 i 
 
 \^ 
 
51 
 
 SIR HUGH, OR THE JEW'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 Two copies of this ballad appeared in Herd's Collection, Edin. 1776, under 
 the above title — a third is printed in Dr. Percy's Reliques, and Mr. Jamie- 
 son has given another copy of the same ballad, taken down from recitation. 
 To this last, which differs in a few particulars from those already published, 
 its learned Editor has prefixed some interesting notices, which may be con- 
 sulted with advantage by the curious. The present edition is likewise given 
 as taken down from the recitation of a lady ; and as it contains some addi- 
 tional circumstances not to be found in any of the copies mentioned above, 
 it has been deemed proper to publish it as it stands, without attempting to 
 incorporate it with any other version. 
 
 Yesterday was brave Hallowday, 
 And, above all days of the year, 
 
 The schoolboys all got leave to play, 
 And little Sir Hugh was there. 
 
 He kicked the ball with his foot, 
 And kepped it with his knee, 
 
 And even in at the Jew's window, 
 He gart the bonnie ba' flee, 
 
 VII. G 
 
52 
 
 Out then came the Jew's daughter — 
 
 " Will ye come in and dine ?" 
 '• I winna come in and I canna come in 
 
 Till I get that ball of mine. 
 
 " Throw down that ball to me, maiden, 
 
 Throw down the ball to me." 
 " I winna throw down your ball, Sir Hugh, 
 
 Till ye come up to me." fll 
 
 She pu'd the apple frae the tree, 
 
 It was baith red and green. 
 She gave it unto little Sir Hugh, 
 
 With that his heart did win. 
 
 She wiled him into ae chamber, 
 
 She wiled him into twa. 
 She wiled him into the third chamber, 
 
 And that was warst o't a'. 
 
 She took out a little penknife. 
 
 Hung low down by her spare, 
 She twined this young thing o' his life, 
 
 And a word he ne'er spak mair. 
 
53 
 
 And first came out the thick, thick blood, 
 And syne came out the thin. 
 
 And syne came out the bonnie heart's blood- 
 There was nae mair within. 
 
 She laid him on a dressing table, 
 
 She dress'd him like a swine,^ 
 Says " lie ye there my bonnie Sir Hugh, 
 
 Wi' ye're apples red and green.' 
 
 ?» 
 
 She put him in a case of lead. 
 
 Says " lie ye there and sleep ;" 
 She threw him into the deep draw-well 
 
 AVas fifty fathom deep. 
 
 A schoolboy walking in the garden, 
 
 Did grievously hear him moan, 
 He ran away to the deep draw-well 
 
 And fell down on his knee, 
 
 Says " bonnie Sir Hugh, and pretty Sir Hugh, 
 
 I pray you speak to me ; 
 If you speak to any body in this world, 
 
 I pray you speak to me." 
 
54 
 
 When bells were rung and mass was sung, 
 
 And every body went hame, 
 Then every lady had her son, 
 
 But Lady Helen had nane. 
 
 She rolled her mantle her about, 
 
 And sore, sore did she weep ; 
 She ran away to the Jew's castle 
 
 When all were fast asleep. 
 
 She cries, "bonnie Sir Hugh, O pretty Sir Hugh, 
 
 I pray you speak to me ; 
 If you speak to any body in this world, 
 
 I pray you speak to me." 
 
 "Lady Helen, if ye want your son, 
 
 I'll tell ye where to seek ; 
 Lady Helen, if ye want your son, 
 
 He's in the well sae deep." 
 
 She ran away to the deep draw-well, ilt 
 
 And she fell down on her knee ; 
 Saying, " bonnie Sir Hugh, O pretty Sir Hugh, 
 
 I pray ye speak to me. 
 If ye speak to any body in the world, 
 
 I pray ye speak to me." 
 
55 
 
 " Oh ! the lead it is wondrous heavy mother, 
 
 The well it is wondrous deep, 
 The little penknife- sticks in my throat, 
 
 And I downa to ye speak. 
 
 " But lift me out o' this deep draw-well, 
 And bury me in yon churchyard ; 
 
 Put a bible at my head he says, 
 And a testament at my feet, 
 
 And pen and ink at every side, 
 And I'll lie still and sleep. 
 
 "And go to the back of Maitland town. 
 
 Bring me my winding sheet ; 
 For it's at the back of Maitland town. 
 
 That you and I shall meet." 
 
 O the broom, the bonny, bonny broom, 
 The broom that makes full sore, 
 
 A woman's mercy is very little. 
 But a man's mercy is more." 
 
 1 " She dressed him like a S7van " was the reading- we got ; but, in de- 
 ference to former editions, we have substituted Swine, though it is ques- 
 tionable how far a Jewess could be skilled in the cookery of an animal aI)o- 
 miuated by her people. 
 
 '^ This stanza, though meant for a moral, seems to have little business 
 here, and we are at a loss to make sense of the second line. 
 
56 
 
 THE LAIRD O' LOGIE, ^ 
 
 OR MAY MARGARET, j^ 
 
 \i 
 
 Appears to be founded on an incident which is detailed at some lengtli iu 
 Spottiswood's History of the Church of Scotland, see ed. LotuL 1668, b. vi. 
 J). 389 ; and also in " The Historie of King James the Sext," quoted by the 
 editor of " The Border Minstrelsy." The common printed edition of tliis bal- 
 lad goes under the title of " The Laird of Ochiltree," but the copy here fol- 
 lowed is that recovered by Sir Walter Scott, which is preferable to the other, 
 as agreeing more closely, both in the name and in the circumstance, Avith ^ 
 
 the real fact. The third stanza in the present copy was obtained from red- % 
 
 tation ; and, as it describes very naturally the agitated behaviour of a person v 
 
 who, like INIay Margaret, had high fnterests at stake, it was considered 
 worthy of being preserved. 
 
 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 Logic's laid in Edinburgh chapel, 
 Carmichaers the keeper o' the key ; 
 
 And May ]\Iargaret's lamenti-ng sair, 
 A' for the love of young Logie. 
 
57 
 
 May Margaret sits in the Queen's bouir 
 Kincking her fingers ane be ane, 
 
 Cursing the day that she ere was born, 
 Or that she ere heard o' Loose's name. 
 
 " Lament, lament na, May Margaret, 
 And of your weeping let m.e be, 
 
 For ye maun to the king him sell, 
 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." 
 
 When she came before the king, 
 
 She knelit lowly on her knee. 
 " what's the matter, May Margaret ? 
 
 And what need's a' this courtesie ?" 
 
 " A boon, a boon, my noble liege, 
 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." 
 
58 
 
 " O na, na, May Margaret, 
 Forsooth, and so it manna be ; 
 
 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, 
 
 To cause young Logie get his life. ,i 
 
 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. 
 
 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', 
 And bid Carmichael come speak to me, 
 
 For I'll Ir.y my life the pledge o' that, 
 That yon's the shot o' young Logie." 
 
 I 
 
69 
 
 When Carmichael came before the king, 
 He fell low down upon his knee ; 
 
 The very first word that the king spake, 
 
 Was — " Wliere's the laird of young Logie ?" 
 
 Carmichael turn'd him round about, 
 
 (I wat the tear blinded his eye,) 
 " There came a token frae your grace, 
 
 Has ta*en away the laird frae me." 
 
 " Hast thou play'd me that, Carmichael ? 
 
 And has thou play'd me that ?" quoth he ; 
 " The morn the Justice Court's to stand, 
 
 And Logie's place ye maun supply." 
 
 Carmichael's awa to Margaret's bower. 
 
 E'en 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, 
 (I wat a loud laugh laughed she,) 
 
 " The egg is chipped, the bird is flown, 
 Ye'll see nae mair of young Logie." 
 
 VIII. H 
 
■■t 
 
 60 
 
 The tane is shipped at the pier of Leith, 
 The tother at the Queen's Ferrie ; 
 
 And she's gotten a father to her bairn, 
 The wanton laird of young Logie. 
 
 THE TWA BROTHERS. 
 
 The domestic tragedy which this aifecting ballad commemorates is not with- 
 out a precedent in real history; nay, %ve are almost inclined to believe that 
 it originated in the following melancholy event : — 
 
 " This year, 1589, in the raoneth of July, ther falls out a sad accident, as 
 a further warnehig that God was displeased with the familie. ,The Lord 
 Sommervill haveing come from Cowthally, earlie in the morning, in regaird 
 the weather was hott, he had ridden hard to be at the Drum be ten a clock, 
 which haveing done, he laid him down to rest. The servant, with his two 
 sonesj William Master of Sommervill, and John his brother, went with the 
 horses to ane Shott of land, called the Prety Shott, directly opposite the 
 front of the house where there was some meadow ground for grassing the 
 horses, and willowes to shaddow themselves from the heat. They had not 
 long continued in this place, when the Master of Somervlll efter some litle 
 rest awakeing from his sleep and finding his pistolles that lay hard by him 
 wett with the dew he began to rub and dry them, when imhappily one of 
 them went off the ratch, being lying upon his knee, and the muzel turned 
 syde-ways, the ball strocke his brother John directly in the head, and killed 
 him outright, soe that his sorrowful brother never had one word from him, 
 albeit he begged it with many teares." — Memorie of the Somei-villes, Vol. 
 
 I. p. 467. 
 
 The reader will find in the first volume of " Popular Ballads and Songs " 
 another edition of this ballad, which, in point of merit, is perhaps superior to 
 the present copy. The third stan^ia of that edition was however imperfect. 
 
G\ 
 
 and the ingenious editor, Mr. Jamieson, lias supplied four lines to render it 
 complete. Excellent tliougli his inteqiolations generally are, it will be seen 
 that, in this instance, he has quite* misconceived the scope and tendency of 
 the piece on which he was working, and in consequence has supplied a reading 
 with which the rest of his own copy is at complete variance, and which at 
 same time sweeps away the deep _^impression this simple ballad would 
 otherwise have made upon the feelings ; for it is almost unnecessary to men- 
 tion that its touching interest is made to centre in the boundless sorrow, 
 and cureless remorse, of him who had been the unintentional cause of his 
 brother's death — and in the solicitude which that high-minded and generous 
 spirit expresses, even in the last agonies of nature, for the safety and for- 
 tunes of the truly wretched and unhappy survivor. Mr. Jamieson's addi- 
 tion is siven below Bv that addition this ballad has been altered in one of 
 
 its most distinctive and essential features ; hence the present copy, which 
 preserves the genuine reading in the stanza referred to, though it might have 
 derived coiisiderable improvements in other particulars from the one given 
 by Mr. Jamieson, has, on the whole, been preferred. 
 
 The addition to the stanza in question is inclosed by crotchets. 
 They warstled up, they warstled down, 
 
 The lee lang simmer's day ; 
 [And nane wa-s near to part the strife 
 
 That raise atween them tway. 
 Till out and Willie's drawn the sword, 
 
 And did his brother slay.] 
 
 There were twa brothers at the sciile, 
 
 And when they got awa' — 
 " It's will je play at the stane-chucking, 
 
 Or will ye play at the ba', 
 Or will ye gae up to yon hill head, 
 
 And there we'll warsell a fa'.** 
 
62 
 
 " I winna play at the stane-chucking, 
 
 Nor will I play at the ba', 
 But I'll gae up to yon bonnie green hill, 
 
 And there we'll warsel a fa'." 
 
 I 
 
 They warsled up, they warsled down, f 
 
 Till John fell to the ground ; 
 A dirk fell out of William's pouch, 
 
 And gave John a deadly wound. 
 
 I 
 
 " O lift me upon your back, 
 
 Take me to yon well fair ; 
 And wash my bloody wounds o'er and o'er, 
 
 And they'll ne'er bleed nae mair." 
 
 He's lifted his brother upon his back, 
 
 Ta'en him to yon well fair ; 
 He's wash'd his bluidy wounds o'er and o'er, 
 
 But they bleed ay mair and mair. 
 
 " Tak ye aff my Holland sark, 
 
 And rive it gair by gair. 
 And row it in my bluidy wounds, 
 
 And they'll ne'er bleed nae mair.** 
 
 i 
 
63 
 
 He's taken afFhis Holland sark, 
 
 And torn it gair by gair ; 
 He's rowit it in his bluidy wounds, 
 
 But they bleed ay mair and mair. 
 
 " Tak now afF my green sleiding, 
 
 And row me saftly in ; 
 And tak me up to yon kirk style, 
 
 Whare the grass grows fair and green." 
 
 He's taken aff the green cleiding, 
 
 And rowed him saftly in ; 
 He's laid him down by yon kirk style, 
 
 Whare the grass grows fair and green. 
 
 " What will ye say to your father dear 
 Wlien ye gae hame at e'en ?" 
 
 " I'll say ye're lying at yon kirk style, 
 Whare the grass grows fair and green." 
 
 " O no, O no, my brother dear, 
 
 O you must not say so ; 
 But say that I'm gane to a foreign land, 
 
 Whare nae man does me know.'' 
 
64 
 
 When he sat in his father*s chair 
 He grew baith pale and wan. 
 
 " O what blude's that upon your brow ? 
 O dear son tell to me." 
 
 " It is the blude o' my gude gray steed,^ 
 He wadna ride wi' me." 
 
 " O thy steed's blude was ne'er sae red, 
 
 Nor e'er sae dear to me : 
 O what blude's this upon your cheek ? 
 
 O dear son tell to me." 
 " It is the blude of my greyhound, 
 
 He wadna hunt for me." 
 
 " O thy hound's blude was ne'er sae red, 
 
 Nor e'er sae dear to me : 
 O what blude's this upon your hand ? 
 
 O dear son tell to me." 
 " It is the blude of my gay goss hawk, 
 
 He wadna flee for me." 
 
 " O thy hawk's blude was ne'er sae red, 
 Nor e'er sae dear to me : 
 
65 
 
 O what blude's this upon your dirk ? 
 
 Dear WiUie tell to me." 
 " It is the blude of my ae brother, 
 
 O dale and wae is me." 
 
 " O what will ye say to your father ? 
 
 Dear Willie tell to me." 
 " ril saddle my steed, and awa I'll ride 
 
 To dwell in some far countrie." 
 
 " O when will ye come hame again ? 
 
 Dear Willie tell to me." 
 " When sun and mune leap on yon hill, 
 
 And that will never be," 
 
 She turn'd hersel' right round about 
 And her heart burst into three : 
 
 " My ae best son is deid and gane 
 And my tother ane I'll ne'er see. 
 
 
66 
 
 THE CRUSADER'S FAREWELL. 
 
 The banners rustle in the wind, 
 
 The angry trumpets swell ; 
 They call me, lady, from thy arms, 
 
 They bid me sigh farewell ! 
 
 They call me to a distant land 
 
 To quell a Paynim foe ; 
 To leave the blandishments of love 
 
 For danger, strife, and woe. 
 
 • 
 Yet deem not, lady, though afar 
 
 It be my hap to roam, 
 That e'er my constant heart shall stray 
 
 From love, from thee, and home. 
 
 No ! in the tumult of the fight — 
 
 'Midst Salem's chivalrie. 
 The thought that arms this hand with death 
 
 Shall be the thought of thee ! 
 
 ■t 
 
 ^ 
 
67 
 
 MAY COLVIN, OR FALSE SIR JOHN. 
 
 This ballad is given from a copy obtained from recitation, collated with 
 another copy to be found in the Edinburgh collection, 1V76. 
 
 False Sir John a wooing came, 
 
 To a maid of beautj fair ; 
 May Colvin was the lady's name, 
 
 Her father's only heir. 
 
 He's courted her butt, and he's courtedher ben, 
 And he's courted her into the ha'. 
 
 Till once he got this lady's consent 
 To mount and ride awa'. 
 
 She's gane to her father's coffers 
 
 ^\^lere all his money lay ; 
 And she's taken the red, and she's left the white, 
 
 And so lightly as she tripped away. 
 
 IX. I 
 
68 
 
 She's gane down to her father's stable 
 
 Where all his steeds did stand ; 
 And she's taken the best, and she's left the warst, 
 
 That was in her father's land. 
 
 He rode on, and she rode on, 
 
 They rode a lang simmer's day, 
 Until they came to a broad river, 
 
 An arm of a lonesome sea. *^ 
 
 " Loup off the steed," says false Sir John ; 
 
 " Your bridal bed you see ; 
 For its seven king's daughters I have drowned here. 
 
 And the eighth I'll out make with thee. 
 
 " Cast off, cast off your silks so fine, 
 
 And lay them on a stone, 
 For they are o'er good and o'er costly 
 
 To rot in the salt sea foam. 
 
 " Cast off, cast off your holland smock, 
 
 And lay it on this stone, 
 For its too fine and o'er costly 
 
 To rot in the salt sea foam." 
 
 I, 
 
 r 
 
69 
 
 " O turn you about, thou false Sir John. 
 
 And look to the leaf o' the tree ; 
 For it never became a gentleman 
 
 A naked woman to see." 
 
 He's turned himself straight round about, 
 To look to the leaf o' the tree ; 
 
 She's twined her arms about his waist, 
 And thrown him into the sea. 
 
 " O hold a grip of me. May Colvin, 
 For fear that I should drown ; 
 
 I'll take you hame to your father's gates, 
 And safely I'll set you down." 
 
 " O lie you there, thou false Sir John, 
 
 O lie you there," said she, 
 " For you lie not in a caulder bed 
 
 Than the ane you intended for me. 
 
 >» 
 
 So she went on her father's steed, 
 
 As swift as she could flee ; 
 And she came hame to her father's gates 
 
 At the breaking of the day. 
 
70 
 
 Up then spake the pretty parrot : 
 
 " May Colvin, where have you been ? 
 What has become of false Sir John, 
 
 That wooed you so late yestreen ? *' 
 
 Up then spake the pretty parrot. 
 
 In the bonnie cage where it lay : 
 " O what hae ye done with the false Sir John, 
 
 That he behind you does stay? I 
 
 '* He wooed you butt, he wooed you ben, | 
 
 He wooed you into the ha', 
 Until he got your own consent 
 
 For to mount and gang awa'.' 
 
 » '» 
 
 " O hold your tongue, my pretty parrot, 
 
 Lay not the blame upon me ; 
 Your cage will be made of the beaten gold 
 
 And the spakes of ivorie." 
 
 Up then spake the king himself. 
 In the chamber where he lay : 
 
 " Oh ! what ails the pretty parrot 
 That prattles so long ere day. 
 
 *■;■ 1 
 
 
 
71 
 
 " It was a cat cam to my cage door j 
 I thought 'twould have worried me ; 
 
 And I was calHng on fair May Colvin 
 To take the cat from me.' 
 
 tt 
 
 LADY MAISRY. 
 
 This excellent old ballad, which is very popular in many parts of Scotland, 
 is given from Mr. Jamieson's Collection. 
 
 The young lords o* the north country 
 
 Have all a wooing gane, 
 To win the love of Lady Maisry ; 
 
 But o' them she wou'd hae nana. 
 
 O, thae hae sought her, Lady Maisry, 
 
 Wi' broaches and wi* rings ; 
 And they hae courted her, Lady Maisry, 
 
 Wi' a* kin kind of things ; 
 
72 
 
 And they hae sought her, Lady Maisry, 
 
 Frae father and frae mither ; 
 And they hae sought her, Lady Maisry, 
 
 Frae sister and frae brither. 
 
 And they hae followed her, Lady Maisry, 
 Through chamber and through ha' ; 
 
 But a' that they could say to her. 
 Her answer still was " Na." 
 
 " O, baud your tongues, young men," she said, 
 
 " And think nae mair on me ; 
 For I've gi'en my love to an English lord, 
 
 Sae think nae mair on me." 
 
 Her father's kitchen boy heard that, 
 
 (An ill death mot he die !) 
 And he is in to her brother, 
 
 As fast as gang cou'd he. 
 
 O, is my father and my mother weel, 
 Bot, and my brothers three ? 
 Hn my sister Lady Maisry be weel. 
 There's naething can ail me." 
 
 "O, i 
 B 
 
 Gin 
 
73 
 
 " Your father and your mother is weel, 
 Bot and your brothers three ; 
 
 Your sister, Lady Maisry's, weel ; 
 Sae big wi' bairn is she." 
 
 " A mahson light on the tongue, 
 
 Sic tidings tells to me ! — 
 But gin it be a lie you tell, 
 
 You shall be hanged hie." 
 
 He's doen him to his sister's bower, 
 
 Wi' mickle dool and care ; 
 And there he saw her. Lady Maisry, 
 
 Kembing her yellow hair. 
 
 " O, wha is aucht that bairn," he says, 
 
 " That ye sae big are wi ? 
 And gin ye winna own the truth, 
 
 This moment ye shall die." 
 
 She's turned her richt and round about. 
 And the kembe fell frae her han* ; 
 
 A trembling seized her fair bodie. 
 And her rosy cheek grew wan. 
 
74 
 
 " pardon me, my brother dear, 
 And the truth I'll tell to thee ; 
 
 My bairn is to Lord William, 
 And he is betrothed to me.' 
 
 j» 
 
 " O cou'dna ye gotten dukes, or lords, 
 
 Intill your ain countrie, 
 That ye drew up wi' an English dog 
 
 To bring this shame on me ? 
 
 " But ye maun gi*e up your English lord, 
 Wlian your young babe is born ; 
 
 For, gin ye keep by him an hour langer, 
 Your life shall be forlorn." 
 
 " I will gi'e up this English lord, 
 Till my young babe is born ; 
 
 But the never a day nor hour langer. 
 Though my life should be forlorn. 
 
 »» 
 
 " O where is a' my merry young men 
 Wham I gi'e meat and fee, 
 
 To pu' the bracken and the thorn, 
 To burn this vile whore wi'." 
 
75 
 
 " O vvliare will I get a bonny boy, 
 
 To help me in my need, 
 To rin wi' haste to Lord William, 
 
 And bid him come wi' speed ?" 
 
 O out it spak a bonny boy, 
 
 Stood by her brother's side ; 
 " It's I wad rin your errand, lady, 
 
 O'er a' the warld wide, x 
 
 " Aft ha'e I run your errands, lady. 
 When blawin baith wind and weet ; 
 
 But now I'll rin your errand, lady? 
 With saut tears on my cheek." 
 
 O whan he came to broken briggs. 
 
 He bent his bow and swam ; 
 And whan he came to the green grass growin', 
 
 He slack'd his shoon and ran. 
 
 And whan he came to Lord William's yetts, 
 
 He badena to chap or ca' ; 
 But set his bent bow to his breast, 
 
 And lightly lap the wa' ; 
 
 X. K 
 
76 
 
 And, or the porter was at the yett, 
 The boy was in the ha'. 
 
 " O is my biggins broken, boy ? 
 
 Or is my towers won ? 
 Or is my lady hghter yet, 
 
 O' a dear daughter or son ?" 
 
 " Your biggin isna broken, sir, 
 
 Nor is your towers won ; 
 But the fairest lady in a' the land 
 
 This day for you maun burn." 
 
 " O saddle to me the black, the black. 
 Or saddle to me the brown ; 
 
 Or saddle to me the swiftest steed 
 That ever rade frae a town." 
 
 Or he was near a mile awa'. 
 
 She heard his weir-horse sneeze ; 
 
 " Mend up the fire, my fause brother. 
 It's nae come to my knees." 
 
 O, whan he lighted at the yett, 
 She heard his bridle ring : 
 
77 
 
 " Mend up the fire, my fause brother ; 
 It's far yet frae my chin. 
 
 " Mend up the fire to me, brother, 
 
 Mend up the fire to me ; 
 For I see him comin' hard and fast 
 
 Will soon men't up for thee. 
 
 " gin my hands had been loose, Willy, 
 
 Sae hard as they are boun', 
 I wad hae turned me frae the gleed. 
 
 And casten out your young son." 
 
 " O, I'll gar burn for you, Maisry, 
 Your father and your mother ; 
 
 And I'll gar burn for you, Maisry, 
 Your sister and your brother ; 
 
 " And I'll gar burn for you, Maisry, 
 
 The chief o' a' your kin ; 
 And the last bonfire that I come to, 
 
 My sell I will cast in." 
 
78 X^i'r'oRMi^ 
 
 THE BONNY EARL OF MURRAY. 
 
 "The 7 of Februarij this zeire, 1592, the Earle of Murray was cruelly 
 murthered by the Earle of Huntly, at his house in Dunibrissell, in 
 FyfFeshyre, and with him Dumbar, ShrifFe of Murray ; it [^was] given 
 out, and publickly talked that the Earle of Huntley was only the instru- 
 ment of perpetratting this facte, to satisffie the Kinges jelosie of Murray, 
 quhom the Queine, more rashlie than wyslie, some few dayes before had 
 commendit in the Kinges heiringe, with too many epithetts of a proper 
 and gallant man. The ressons of these surmisses proceidit from pro- 
 clamatione of the Kinges the 1 8 of Marche following, inhibitting the 
 younge Earle of Murray to persew the Earle of Huntley for his fathers 
 slaughter, in respecte he being wardit in the castell of Blacknesse for the 
 same murther, was willing to abyde his tryell ; averring that he had 
 done nothing, bot by the King's ma**^ commissione : and so was neither 
 airt nor pairt of the murther." — Annales of Scotland by Sir James Bal- 
 four, Vol. I. Edin., 1824. For other accounts of this transaction, see 
 Spottiswood, Moyse's Memoires, Calderwood's History of the Church, 
 and Gordon's Genealogical History of the Earldom of Sutherland. 
 
 Ye Highlands, and ye Law-lands, 
 Oh ! qiihair hae ye been ? 
 
 They hae slain e the Earl of Murray, 
 And hae lain him on the green. 
 
79 
 
 I 
 
 Now wae be to thee, Huntly 
 And quhairfore did you sae ? 
 
 I bade you bring him wi' you, 
 But forbade you him to slay. 
 
 He was a braw gallant, 
 
 And he rid at the ring ; 
 And the bonny Earl of Murray, 
 
 Oh ! he might hae been a king. 
 
 He was a braw gallant, 
 And he play'd at the ba' ; 
 
 And the bonny Earl of Murray, 
 Was the flower amang them a'. 
 
 He was a braw gallant, 
 
 And he play'd at the gluve ; 
 
 And the bonny Earl of Murray, 
 Oh ! he was the Queenes luve. 
 
 Oh ! lang will his lady. 
 
 Look owre the castle Downe, ^ 
 Ere she see the Earl of Murray, 
 
 Cum sounding thro* the towne. 
 
80 
 
 ^ " I had conjectured this to be the true readmg, before I was a- 
 ■wai-e that a friend of Mr Pinkerton had anticipated me. It has always, 
 before the present edition, been printed, ' look our the castle dowrie,' 
 which is hardly sense." — Finlays ballads. Vol I. This is not true. Had 
 MrFinlay taken the trouble of consulting Ramsay's Tea-table Miscellany, 
 Edin., 1775, he would there have found the line in question, printed 
 correctly, vea, even according to his fancied emendation ! 
 
 THE BONNIE EARL O' MURRAY 
 
 Is a different ballad from the one that precedes it; but owing to the 
 same peculiarity of measure of both, Mr Finlay conjectures, which is 
 not at all unlikely, that they may at one period have been united. 
 
 Open the gates, 
 
 And let him come in ; 
 He is my brother Huntly, 
 
 He'll do him nae harm. 
 
 The gates they were open't, 
 They let him come in ; 
 
 But fause traitor Huntly, 
 He did him great harm. 
 
81 
 
 He's ben and ben, 
 
 And ben to his bed ; 
 And with a sharp rapier, 
 
 He stabbed him dead. 
 
 The lady came down the stair, 
 
 Wringing her hands : 
 " He has slain the Earl o' Murray, 
 
 The flower o* Scotland." 
 
 But Huntly lap on his horse ; 
 
 Rade to the king, 
 " Ye're welcome hame, Huntly, 
 
 And whare hae ye been ? 
 
 " Wliare hae ye been ? 
 
 And how hae ye sped ?" 
 " I've killed the Earl o' Murray, 
 
 Dead in his bed." 
 
 " Foul fa' you, Huntly, 
 
 And why did ye so ; 
 You might hae taen the Earl of Murray, 
 
 And saved his life too." 
 
82 
 
 " Her bread its to bake, 
 Her vill is to brew ; 
 
 My sister's a widow. 
 And sair do I rue.** 
 
 " Her corn grows ripe, 
 
 Her meadows gro\y green ; 
 
 But in bonny Dinnibristle, 
 I darena be seen." 
 
 YOUNG WATERS. 
 
 This ballad, like the two former, has been supposed to refer to the fate 
 of the unfortunate Earl of Murray ; but at best, this is a guess, which, for 
 one chance it has of being right, there are ten chances that it is wrong. 
 
 About Zule quhen the wind blew cnle, 
 And the round tables began ; 
 
 A ! there is cum to our king's court, 
 Money a well-favor'd man. 
 
 :'L' il 
 
 11 
 
83 
 
 The queen luikit owre the castle ^va', 
 Beheld baith dale and down, 
 
 And there she saw young Waters, 
 Cum riding to the town. 
 
 His footmen they did rin before. 
 His horsemen rade behind, 
 
 And mantel of the burning gowd 
 Did keep him frae the wind. 
 
 Gowden graith'd his horse before, 
 
 And silier shod behind ; 
 The horse young Waters rade upon 
 
 Was fleeter than the wind. 
 
 Out then spak a wylie lord, 
 Unto the queen said he : 
 
 " O tell me quha's the fairest face 
 Rides iji the company ?" 
 
 " IVe sene lord, and Tve sene laird, 
 And knights of high degree, 
 
 But a fairer face than young Waters', 
 Mine eyne did never see." 
 
 XI. L 
 
84 
 
 Out then spak the jealous king, 
 (And an angry man was he) : 
 
 " O, if he had been twice as fair, 
 You micht have excepted me." 
 
 " Your neither laird nor lord," she says, 
 " But the king that wears the crown ; 
 
 There's not a knight in fair Scotland, 
 But to thee mavm bow down.'* 
 
 For a' that she could do or say. 
 
 Appeased he wadna be ; 
 But for the words which she had said, 
 
 Youna: Waters he maun die. 
 
 They hae ta'en young Waters, and 
 
 Put fetters to his feet ; 
 They hae ta'en young Waters, and 
 
 Thrown him in dungeon deep. 
 
 Aft I have ridden thro' Stirling town, 
 In the wind bot and the weit ; 
 
 But I ne'er rade thro' Stirling town 
 Wi' fetters at my feet. 
 
 / 
 
85 
 
 Aft I have ridden thro' Stirling town, 
 In the wind bot and the rain ; 
 
 But I ne'er rode thro' Stirhng town 
 Ne'er to return again. 
 
 They hae ta'en to the heiding hill, 
 His young son in his cradle ; 
 
 And they hae ta'en to the heiding hill, 
 His horse bot and the saddle. 
 
 They hae ta'en to the heiding hill, 
 
 His lady fair to see ; 
 And for the words the queen had spoke 
 
 Young Waters he did die. 
 
86 
 
 LADY MARY ANN. 
 
 '' I HAVE extracted these beautiful stanzas from Johnson's ' Poetical 
 Museum.' They are worthy of being better known — a circumstance 
 which may lead to a discovery of the persons whom they celebrate." — 
 Scottish Historical and Romajitic Ballads, Vol. I. Edin. 1808. The 
 stanzas are certainly beautiful, and it is probable they may refer to 
 some of the Dundonald family. The thrifty habits of one lady of that 
 noble house, at least, have already been commemorated in some wretch- 
 ed stutfj still preserved by tradition in Paisley. 
 
 My lady Dundonald sits singing and spinning 
 
 Drawing a tliread frae her tow rock ; 
 
 And it weel sets me for to wear a gude cloak, 
 
 And I span ilka thread o't mysell so I did. 
 Lilty teedle doodle doo, doodle doo, 
 Lilty teedle doodle doo dan. Lilty teedle, &c. 
 
 The reader has quite enough of this delectable ditty ; the air, however, 
 to which it is sung, is good and worthy of preservation. 
 
 O LADY Mary Ann looks o'er the castle wa', 
 She saw three bonnie boys playing at the ba', 
 The youngest he was the flower among them a' ; 
 My bonnie laddie's young, but he's growin' yet. 
 
87 
 
 O father, O father, an ye think it fit, 
 We'll send him a year to the college yet ; 
 We'll sew a green ribbon round about his hat, 
 And that will let them ken he's to marry yet. 
 
 Lady j\Iary Ann was a flower in the dew. 
 Sweet was its smell, and bonnie was its hue. 
 And the langer it blossomed, tlie sweeter it grew ; 
 For the lily in the bud will be bonnier yet. 
 
 Young Charlie Cochran was the sprout of an aik, 
 Bonnie and blooming and straight was its make, 
 Tlie sun took delight to shine for its sake ; 
 And it will be the brag o* the forest yet. 
 
 The summer is gane when theleaves they were green, 
 And the days are awa' that we hae seen. 
 But far better days I trust will come again ; 
 
 For my bonnie laddie's young but he'sgrowingyet. 
 
88 
 
 BABYLON ; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE BONNIE BANKS O' FORDIE 
 
 Is given from two copies obtained from recitation, which differ but little 
 from each other. Indeed the only variation is in the verse where the 
 outlawed brother unweetingly slays his sister. One reading is — 
 
 He's taken out his wee penknife 
 
 Hey how bonnie ; 
 And he's twined her o' her ain sweet life. 
 
 On the bonnie banks o' Fordie- 
 
 The other reading is that adopted in the text. This ballad is popular 
 in the southern parishes of Perthshire : but where the scene is laid, the 
 editor has been unable to ascertain. • Nor has any research of his ena- 
 bled him to throw farther light on the history of its hero Avith the fan- 
 tastic name, than what the ballad itself supplies. 
 
 There were three ladies lived in a bower. 
 
 Eh vow bonnie. 
 And they went out to pull a flower, 
 
 On the bonnie banks o' Fordie. 
 
89 
 
 They hadna pii'ed a flower but ane, 
 
 Eh vow bonnie, 
 Mlien up started to them a banisht man, 
 
 On the bonnie banks o' Fordie. 
 
 He's ta'en the first sister by her hand, 
 
 Eh vow bonnie. 
 And he's turned her round and made her stand 
 
 On the bonnie banks o' Fordie. 
 
 " Its whether will ye be a rank robber's wife, 
 
 Eh vow bonnie. 
 Or will ye die by my w^ee pen knife, 
 
 On the bonnie banks o' Fordie ?" 
 
 " Its I'll not be a rank robber's wife. 
 
 Eh vow bonnie, 
 But I'll rather die by your wee pen knife, 
 
 On the bonnie banks o' Fordie." 
 
 He's killed this may and he's laid her by, 
 
 Eh vow bonnie, 
 For to bear the red rose company, 
 
 On the bonnie banks of Fordie. 
 
90 
 
 He's taken the second ane by the hancj, 
 
 Eh vow bonnie, 
 And he's turned her round and made her stand, 
 
 On the bonnie banks o' Fordie. 
 
 " Its whether will ye be a rank robber's wife, 
 
 Eh vow bonnie. 
 Or will ye die by my wee pen knife, 
 
 On the bonnie banks o' Fordie ?" 
 
 " ril not be a rank robber's wife. 
 
 Eh vow bonnie. 
 But I'll rather die by your wee penknife, 
 
 On the bonnie banks o' Fordie.*' 
 
 He's killed this mav and he's laid her by, 
 
 Eh vow bonnie, 
 For to bear the red rose company, 
 
 On the bonnie banks o' Fordie. 
 
 He's taken the youngest ane by the hand, 
 
 Eh vow bonnie, 
 And he's turn'd her round and made her stand, 
 
 On the bonnie banks o' Fordie. 
 
91 
 
 Says, " will ye be a rank robber's wife, 
 
 Eh vow bonnie, 
 Or will ye die by my wee penknife, 
 
 On the bonnie banks o' Fordie." 
 
 " I'll not be a rank robber's wife, 
 
 Eh vow bonnie, 
 Nor will I die by your wee penknife, 
 
 On the bonnie banks o' Fordie. 
 
 " For I hae a brother in this wood, 
 
 Eh vow bonnie. 
 And gin ye kill me, it's he'll kill thee. 
 
 On the bonnie banks o' Fordie." 
 
 " Wliat's thy brother's name, come tell to me ? 
 
 Eh vow bonnie." • 
 
 " My brother's name is Baby Lon, 
 
 On the bonnie banks o' Fordie." 
 
 " O sister, sister, what have I done. 
 
 Eh vow bonnie, 
 O have I done this ill to thee, 
 
 On the bonnie banks o' Fordie ? 
 
 XII. M 
 
92 
 
 " O since I've done this evil deed, 
 
 Eh vow bonnie, 
 Good sail never be seen o' me, 
 
 On the bonnie banks o' Fordie." 
 
 He's taken out his wee penknife, 
 
 Eh vow bonnie, 
 And he's twjned himsel o' his ain sweet life, 
 
 On the bonnie banks o* Fordie. 
 
 THE D^EjMON L0\ ER. 
 
 " This ballad, which contains some verses of merit, was ta\en down 
 from recitation by Mr. William LaidlaAv, tenant in Traquair-knowe. 
 It contains a legend, which, in*various shapes, is current in Scotland. I 
 remember to have heard a ballad in which a fiend is introduced jjaying 
 his addresses to a beautiful maiden ; but, disconcerted by the holy herbs 
 which she Avore in her bosom, makes the following lines the burden of 
 his courtship : — 
 
 Gin ye wish to be leman mine. 
 
 Lay aside the St. John's wort and the vervain. 
 
 The heroine of the following tale was unfortunately without any si- 
 milar protection." — Minstrelsy qfihe Scottish Border. 
 
93 
 
 • 
 
 It would be unfair to imagine for a moment that the Editor of the 
 meritorious -work now quoted made any addition to this ballad, other 
 than was furnished by his correspondent ; but, Mr. Laidlaw, it is sus- 
 pected, may have improved upon its naked original — for with all our 
 industry we have not been able to find it in a more perfect state than this ; 
 
 " I have seven ships upon the sea. 
 
 Laden with the finest gold. 
 And mariners to wait us upon — 
 
 All these you may behold. 
 
 " And I have shoes for my love's feet, 
 
 Beaten of the purest gold. 
 And lined wi' the velvet soft. 
 
 To keep my love's feet from the cold, 
 
 '' O how do you love the ship," he said, 
 
 " Or how do you love the sea ? 
 And how do you love the bold mariners. 
 
 That wait upon thee and me." 
 
 " O I do love the ship," she said, 
 
 " And I do love the sea ; 
 But woe be to the dim mariners. 
 
 That nowhere I can see." 
 
 They had not sailed a mile awa'. 
 
 Never a mile but one, 
 ^Mien she began to weep and mourn. 
 
 And to think on her little wee son. 
 
 '* O hold your tongue, my dear," he said, 
 ^' And let all your weeping abee, 
 
94 
 
 For I'll soon show to you how the lilies grow 
 On the banks of Italy. " 
 
 They had not sailed a mile awa'. 
 
 Never a mile but two. 
 Until she espied his cloven foot. 
 
 From his gay robes sticking thro'. 
 
 They had not sailed a mile awa'. 
 
 Never a mile but three. 
 When dark dark grew his eerie looks. 
 
 And raging grew the sea. 
 
 They had not sailed a mile awa'. 
 
 Never a mile but four. 
 When the little wee ship ran round about, 
 
 And never was seen more ! 
 
 The above is but a meagre skeleton of Mr. Laidlaw's edition, which it 
 will be observed is embellished with divers "pleasant hills and dreary moun- 
 tains of snow," not to be found in any chait of those days, but of whose 
 bearings the Fiend pilot seems to have had a distinct knowledge, and even 
 has the complacency to inform his fair voyager thai they are the headlands 
 of two very opposite regions, and that to the more uncomfortable of the two, 
 he is steering his course. Another circumstance in which they vary, is in 
 the remarkable progi-essive growth of the Demon as they near the " dreary 
 mountains ;" in which 'particular he resembles that malevolent genius, men- 
 tioned in an Arabian fiction, whom the wisdom of Solomon had one time 
 sealed up in a jar, and pitched into the sea, in whose depths he slumbered 
 peaceably till some unfortunate wight had the ill luck to fish up the jar in 
 which this bad spirit was condensed, and the temerity to break its potent 
 seal. The copy given above likewise wants that melancholy concert of 
 " wailing snow-white sprites " of the ocean, which ushers in the fifth act of 
 
95 
 
 this fearful tragedy ; but both copies are agreed as to the manner in wliich 
 the real character of the hero was discovered, namely, by the mal-forraation 
 of his feet. — And happy it is that the arch-enemy, despite of his innumerable 
 disguises and consummate cunning, can be thus easily unmasked, owing to 
 the unalterable clumsiness of his lower extremities. The horns, with which 
 v7ilgar superstition has also decorated his brow, it would appear can be put 
 off or on as he may have a mind ; but the y-illainous hoof sticks to him at all 
 times, and will neither be shaken off nor metamorphosed into any thing 
 like the foot of a rational biped. 
 
 " O WHERE have you been my long, long love, 
 
 This long seven years and mair V 
 " I'm come to seek my former vows. 
 
 Ye granted me before." 
 
 " O hold your tongue of your former vows, 
 For they will breed sad strife ; 
 
 O hold your tongue of your former vows, 
 For I am become a wife.'* 
 
 e turned him right and round about. 
 And the tear blinded his e'e ; 
 " I wad never hae trodden on Irish ground. 
 If it had not been for thee. 
 
96 
 
 " I might have had a king's daughter, 
 
 Far far beyond the sea ; 
 I might have had a king's daughter. 
 
 Had it not been for love o* thee." 
 
 " If ye might have had a king's daughter, 
 
 Yer sell ye had to blame ; 
 Ye might have taken the king's daughter, 
 
 For ye kend that I was naneJ 
 
 s> 
 
 " O faulse are the vows o* womankind, 
 But fair is their faulse bodie ; 
 
 I never wad hae trodden on Irish ground. 
 Had it not been for love o' thee." 
 
 " If I was to leave my husband dear, 
 
 And my two babes also, 
 O what have vou to take me to. 
 
 If with you I should go ?" 
 
 " I have seven ships upon the sea. 
 The eighth brought me to land ; 
 
 With four-and-twenty bold mariners, 
 And music on every hand.** 
 
97 
 
 She has taken up her two little babes, 
 Kissed them baith cheek and chin : 
 
 " O fare ye weel, my ain two babes, 
 For I'll never see you again." 
 
 She set her foot upon the ship. 
 No mariners could she behold ; 
 
 But the sails were o' the taffetie, 
 And the masts o' the beaten o-old. 
 
 & 
 
 She had not sailed a league, a league, 
 
 A league, but barely three. 
 When dismal grew his countenance, 
 
 And drumlie grew his e'e. 
 
 The masts that were like the beaten gold. 
 Bent not on the heaving seas ; 
 
 But the sails, that were o' the taffetie, 
 Filled not in the eastland breeze. 
 
 They had not sailed a league, a league, 
 
 A league, but barely three, 
 Until she espied his cloven foot, 
 
 And she wept right bitterlie. 
 
 i( 
 
 O hold your tongue of your weeping," says lie, 
 "Of your weeping now let me be; 
 
98 
 
 '* I will show you how the lilies grow 
 On the banks of Italy." 
 
 " what hills are yon, yon pleasant hills. 
 That the sun shines sweetly on ?" 
 
 " yon are the hills of heaven," he said, 
 " V^Tiere you will never win." 
 
 " whaten a mountain is yon," she said, 
 " All so dreary wi' frost and snow V* 
 
 " yon is the mountain of hell," he cried, 
 " Where you and I will go." 
 
 And aye when she turned her round about. 
 
 Aye taller he seemed to be ; 
 Until that the tops o' the gallant ship 
 
 Nae taller were than he. 
 
 The clouds grew dark and the wind grew loud, 
 
 And the levin filled her e'e ; 
 And waesome wailed the snow-white sprites. 
 
 Upon the gurlie sea. 
 
 He strack the tapmast wi* his hand, 
 
 The foremast wi' his knee ; 
 And he brake that gallant ship in twain. 
 
 And sank her in the sea. 
 
99 
 
 SYR CAULINE. 
 
 This ancient and beautiful romantic ballad is given from Percy's reliques^ 
 in which it was first published, from that folio MS. about whose existence 
 the late Mr. Ritson was so sceptical. The editor candidly confesses that he 
 was tempted to add several stanzas to the first part, and still more in the 
 second, to connect and complete the story in the manner which appeared to 
 him most interesting- and affecting. How much it owes to the taste and 
 genius of its editor we have not the means of ascertaining ; but, that his in- 
 terpolations and additions have been very considerable, any one, acquainted 
 with ancient minstrelsy, will have little room to doubt. We suspect too that 
 the original ballad had a less melancholy catastrophe, and that the brave Syr 
 Cauline, after his combat with the " hend Soldan," derived as much benefit 
 from the leechcraft of fair Christabelle as he did after winning the Eldridge 
 sword. 
 
 Between this ballad and some parts of the metrical romance of Sir Tris- 
 trem, the late Mr. Finlay of Glasgow affects to discover a resemblance, but 
 he has not condescended to trace a parallel between them. Indeed, we can- 
 not help thinking, for all he says to the contrary, that his reasoning is no 
 whit superior to Fluellin's, " there is a river at Macedon, and there is also 
 moreover a river at Monmouth :" and according to Mr. Finlay, " there is 
 an Irish king and his daughter in Syr Cauline ;" and there is " also moreover 
 an Irish king and his daughter in Sir Tristrem." The concealed love of Syr 
 Cauline for one so much above his station will remind the reader of the 
 gentle 
 
 ■ Squyer of lowe degre 
 
 That loved the king's doughter of Hungre. 
 
 xni. ' N 
 
100 
 
 THE FIRST PART. 
 
 In Ireland, ferr over the sea, 
 There dwelleth a bonnye kinge ; 
 
 And with him a yong and comlye knighte. 
 Men call him Syr Cauline. 
 
 The kinge had a ladye to his daughter, 
 In fashyon she hath no peere ; 
 
 And princely wightes that ladye wooed, 
 To be theyr wedded feere^ 
 
 Syr Cauline loveth her best of all. 
 
 But nothing durst he saye ; 
 Ne descreeve his counsayl to no man, 
 
 But deerlye he lovde this may 2. 
 
 Till on a daye it so befell 
 
 Great dill ^ to him was dight * ; 
 
 The mayden's love removde his mynd. 
 To care-bed went the knighte. 
 
 One while he spred his armes him fro, 
 One while he spred them nye ; 
 
101 
 
 " And aye ! but I winne that ladyes love, 
 For dole now I mun^ dye." 
 
 And when our parish-masse was done, 
 Our king was bowne ^ to dyne : 
 
 He says, " Where is Syr Cauline 
 That is wont to serve the wyne V 
 
 >» 
 
 Then aunswerde him a courteous knighte, 
 
 And fast his handes gan wringe : 
 " Syr Cauline is sicke, and like to dye, 
 
 7 »> 
 
 Without a good leechinge . 
 
 " Fetche me downe my daughter deere. 
 
 She is a leeche fulle fine ; 
 Goe take him doughe and the baken bread. 
 And serve him with the wyne soe red ; 
 
 Lothe I were him to tine I" 
 
 Fair Christabelle to his chamber goes. 
 
 Her maydens followyng nye ; 
 " well,'* she sayth, " how doth my lord ?" 
 
 " O sicke, thou fair ladye." 
 
102 
 
 " Now ryse up wightyle, maiij for shame, 
 
 Never lye soe cowardlee, 
 For it is told in my father's halle 
 
 You dye for love of mee." 
 
 " Fayre ladye it is for your love, 
 
 That all this dill 1 drye ': 
 For if you wold comfort me with a kisse, 
 Then were I brought from bale to blisse, 
 
 No longer wold I lye." 
 
 " Sir knight, my father is a kinge, 
 
 I am his onlye heire ; 
 Alas ! and well you knowe, syr knighte, 
 
 I never can be youre fere." 
 
 " ladye, thou art a kinge's daughter, 
 
 And I am not thy peere ; 
 But, let me doe some deedes of armes. 
 
 To be your bacheleere." 
 
 " Some deedes of armes, if thou wilt doe, 
 
 My bacheleere to bee, 
 (But ever and aye my heart wold rue, 
 
 Giff harm shold happe to thee.) 
 
103 
 
 " Upon Eldridge hill there groweth a thorne 
 
 Upon the mores brodinge ^°; 
 And dare ye, syr knighte, wake there all night, 
 
 Untill the fayre morninge ? 
 
 " For the Eldridge knighte, so mickle of mighte, 
 
 Will examine you beforne ; 
 And never man bare life awaye, 
 
 But he did him scath and scorne. 
 
 " That knight he is a foul paynim, 
 
 And large of limb and bone ; 
 And but if heaven may be thy speede, 
 
 Thy life it is but gone." 
 
 " Now on the Eldridge hill Til walke 
 
 For thy sake, fair ladie ; 
 And ril either bring you a ready token, 
 
 Or I'll never more you see." 
 
 The ladye is gone to her own chaumbere. 
 
 Her maydens following bright ; 
 Syr Cauline lope from care-bed soone. 
 And to the Eldridge hills is gone, 
 For to wake there all night." 
 
106 
 
 " For the majden's love, that most you love, 
 
 Now smyte no more, I praye ; 
 And aye whatever thou wilt, my lord, 
 
 He shall thy hests obaye." 
 
 " Now sweare to mee, thou Eldridge knighte, 
 
 And here on this lay-land. 
 That thou wilt believe on Christ his laye ^*, 
 
 And thereto plight thy hand : 
 
 " And that thou never on Eldridge come 
 
 To sport gamon ^^ or playe ; 
 And that thou here give up thy amies 
 
 Until thy dying daye." 
 
 The Eldridge knighte gave up his armes, 
 With many a sorrowfulle sighe ; 
 
 And sware to obey Syr Cauline's best. 
 Till the tyme that he shold dye. 
 
 And he then up, and the Eldridge knighte, 
 
 Sett him in his saddle anone ; 
 And the Eldridge knight, and his ladye. 
 
 To theyr castle are they gone. 
 
107 
 
 Then he tooke up the bloudy hand, 
 
 That was so large of bone, 
 And on it he founde five ringes of gold, 
 
 Of knightes that had been slone. 
 
 Then he took up the Eldridge sworde, 
 
 As hard as any flint ; 
 And he took off those ringes five. 
 
 As brighte as fyre and brent. 
 
 Home then pricked Syr Cauline, 
 
 As light as leafe on tree ; 
 I wys he neither stint ne blanne ^ , 
 
 Till he did his ladye see. 
 
 Then downe he knelt upon his knee, 
 
 Before that ladye gay ; 
 " ladye, I have bin on Eldridge hills, 
 
 These tokens I bring away." 
 
 " Now welcome, welcome, Syr Cauline, 
 
 Thrice welcome unto mee, 
 For now, I perceive, thou art a true knighte, 
 
 Of valour bolde and free.'* 
 
 XIV. o 
 
108 
 
 " O ladye, I am thy own true knighte. 
 
 Thy hests for to obaye ; 
 And mought ^^ I hope to winne thy love !" — 
 
 No more his tonge colde say. 
 
 The ladye blushed scarlette redde, 
 
 And fette ^^ a gentill sighe ; 
 " Alas ! syr knight, how may this bee, 
 
 For my degree's soe highe ? 
 
 " But sith thou hast hight, thou comely youth, 
 
 To be my batchilere, 
 ril promise, if thee I may not wedde, 
 
 I will have none other fere." 
 
 Then she held forthe her lilly- white hand. 
 
 Towards that knighte so free ; 
 He gave to it one gentill kisse, 
 His heart was brought from bale to blisse. 
 
 The teares sterte from his ee. 
 
 " But keep my counsayl, Syr Cauline, 
 
 Ne let no man it knowe ; 
 For and ever my father sholde it ken, 
 
 I wot he wolde us sloe." 
 
 % 
 
109 
 
 From that daye forthe, that ladye fayre, 
 Lovyde Syr CauKne the knighte ; 
 
 From that daye forthe, he only joyde 
 When shee was in his sight. 
 
 Yea, and oftentimes they mette 
 
 Within a fayre arboure, 
 Where they, in love, and sweet daliaunce, 
 
 Past many a pleasamit houre. 
 
 THE SECOND PART. 
 
 Everye white will have its blacke, 
 And everye sweete its soure : 
 
 This founde the ladye Christabelle 
 In an untimely howre. 
 
 For so it befelle, as Syr Cauline 
 Was with that ladye faire, 
 
 The kinge her father walked forthe 
 To take the evenyng aire : 
 
no 
 
 And into the arboure as he went 
 
 To rest his wearye feet, 
 He found his daughter and Syr Cauhne 
 
 There sette in daliaunce sweet. 
 
 The kinge he sterted forthe, i-wys, 
 
 And an angrye man was hee : 
 " Nowe, traytoure, thou shalt hange or drawe, 
 
 And rewe shall thy ladie." 
 
 Then forthe Syr Cauline he was ledde, 
 And thrown e in dungeon deepe : 
 
 And the ladye into a towre so hye, 
 There left to wayle and weepe. 
 
 The queene she was Syr Cauline's friend, 
 
 And to the kinge sayd shee : 
 I praye you save Syr Cauline's life. 
 
 And let him banisht bee." 
 
 " Now, dame, that traitor shall be sent 
 
 Across the salt sea fome : 
 But here I will make the a band, 
 If ever he come within this land, 
 
 A foule death is his doome." 
 
Ill 
 
 All woe-begone was that gentill knight 
 
 To parte from his ladye ; 
 And many a time he sighed sore, 
 
 And cast a wistfulle eye ; 
 " Faire Christabelle, from thee to parte, 
 
 Farre lever had I dye." 
 
 Faire Christabelle, that ladye bright, 
 Was had forthe of the towre ; 
 
 But ever shee droopeth in her minde. 
 
 As nipt by an ungentle winde 
 Doth some faire lillye flowre. 
 
 And ever shee doth lament and weepe. 
 
 To tint her lover soe : 
 " Syr Cauline, thou little think' st on mee. 
 
 But I will still be true." 
 
 Manye a kinge, and manye a duke, 
 
 And lorde of high degree, 
 Did sue to that fayre ladye of love ; 
 
 But never shee wolde them nye ^, 
 
112 
 
 When manye a day was past and gone, 
 
 Ne comforte she colde finde, 
 The kynge proclaimed a tournament, 
 
 To cheere his daughter's mind. 
 
 And there came lords, and there came knightes, 
 
 Fro manye a farre countrye, 
 To break a spere for theyr ladye's love, 
 
 Before that faire ladye. 
 
 And manye a ladve there was sette, 
 
 In purple and in palle ; 
 But fair Christabelle, so woe-begone. 
 
 Was the fayrest of them all. 
 
 Then manye a knighte was mickle of might 
 
 Before his ladye gaye ; a 
 
 But a stranger knighte whom no man knewe, " 
 He wan the prize eche daye. 
 
 His acton it was all of blacke, ^ 
 
 His hawberke and his sheelde ; 
 
 i< 
 
113 
 
 Ne noe man wist whence he did come, 
 Ne noe man knew whence he did gone, 
 When they came from the feelde ^. 
 
 And now three days were prestlye past 
 
 In feats of chivalrye. 
 When lo, upon the fourth morninge^ 
 
 A sorrowfulle sight they see : 
 
 A hugye giant stifFe and starke. 
 
 All foule of limbe and lere, 
 Two gogling eyen, like fire farden, 
 
 A mouth from eare to eare. 
 
 Before him came a dwarfFe full lowe. 
 
 That waited on his knee ; 
 And at his backe, five heads he bore, 
 
 All wan and pale of blee 
 
 21 
 
 " Sir," quoth the dwarfFe, and louted lowe, 
 " Behold that hend ^ Soldain ! 
 
 Behold these heads I bear with me ! 
 They are knights which he hath slain. 
 
114 
 
 " The Eldridge knighte is his own cousine, 
 
 Whom a knighte of thine hath shent ^^; 
 And he is to come to avenge his wrong : 
 And to thee, all thy knights among, 
 Defiance here hath sent. 
 
 " But yette he will appease his wrath. 
 Thy daughter's love to winne ; 
 
 And but thou yeelde him that fayre mayde. 
 Thy halls and towers must brenne "*. 
 
 " Thy head, syr king, must goe with mee, 
 
 Or else thy daughter deere : 
 Or else within these lists soe broad, 
 
 Thou must find him a peere.' 
 
 '» 
 
 The king he turned him round aboute, 
 
 And in his heart was woe : 
 " Is there never a knighte of my round table 
 
 This matter will undergoe ? 
 
 " Is there never a knight amongst yee all 
 Will fight for my daughter and mee / 
 
 Whoever will fight yon grimme Soldan, 
 Right fair his meede shall bee. 
 
 ^ 
 
iji^j-^ 
 
 115 
 
 " For he shall have my broad lay-lands, 
 
 And of my crown be hejre ; 
 And he shall winne fayre Christabelle 
 
 To be his wedded fere.*' 
 
 But every knighte of his round table 
 
 Did stand both still and pale ; 
 For, whenever they lookt on the grim Soldan, 
 
 It made their hearts to quail. 
 
 All woe-begone was that fayre ladye, 
 
 Wien she saw no help was nye : 
 She cast her thought on her own true love, 
 
 And the tears gusht from her eye. 
 
 Up then stert the stranger knighte, 
 
 Sayde " Ladye, be not affrayd ; 
 I'll fight for thee with this grimme Soldan, 
 
 Though he unmacklye '^ made. 
 
 " And if thou wilt lend me the Eldridge sworde 
 
 Tliat lyeth within thy bowre, 
 I trust in Christe for to slaye this fiend, 
 
 Though he be stiff and stowre." 
 
 XV. P 
 
116 
 
 " Goe fetch him down the Eldridge sworde," 
 
 The king he cried, " with speed : 
 Nowe, heaven assist thee, courteous knighte ; 
 
 My daughter is thy meede." 
 
 The gyant, he stepped into the lists. 
 
 And sayde, " Awaye, awaye ; 
 I sweare, as I am the hend Soldan, '^ 
 
 Thou lettest '^ me here all daye." 
 
 Then forthe the stranger knighte he came, 
 
 In his black arm our e dighte ; 
 The ladye sighed a gentle sighe, 
 
 " That this were my true knighte.'* 
 
 And nowe the gyant and the knighte be mett, 
 
 Within the listes soe broad ; 
 And nowe, with swordes soe sharpe of Steele, 
 
 They gan to lay on load 
 
 27 
 
 The Soldan struck the knighte a stroke 
 That made him reele asyde ; 
 
 Then woe-begone was that fayre ladye. 
 And thrice she deeplye sighde. 
 
 ..'7 
 
117 
 
 The Soldan strucke a second stroke, 
 
 And made the blonde to flowe ; 
 All payle and wan was that ladye fayre, 
 
 And thrice she wept for woe. 
 
 The Soldan strucke a third fell stroke, 
 Which brought the knighte on his knee : 
 
 Sad sorrow pierced that ladye's heart 
 And she shriekt loud shriekings three. 
 
 Tlie lengthe he leapt upon his feete, 
 
 All recklesse of the pain ; 
 Quoth hee, " But heaven be now my speede, 
 
 Or else I shall be slaine." 
 
 He grasped his sworde with mayne and mighte, 
 
 And spying a secrette part, 
 He drove it into the Soldan's syde, 
 
 And pierced him to the heart. 
 
 Then all the people gave a shoute, 
 
 When they saw the Soldan falle : 
 The ladye wept and thanked Christe, 
 
 That had reskewed her from thrall. 
 
118 
 
 And now the kinge, with all his barons, 
 Rose up from off his seate, . 
 
 And down he stepped into the listes 
 That curteous knighte to greete : 
 
 But he, for payne and lacke of blonde, 
 
 Was fallen into a swounde, 
 And there, all waltering in his gore. 
 
 Lay lifelesse on the grounde. 
 
 " Come downe, come downe, my daughter deare, 
 
 Thou art a leeche of skill ; 
 Farre lever -^ had I lose halfe my landes 
 
 Than this good knighte should spille." 
 
 Downe tlien steppeth that fay re ladye, 
 
 To help him if she maye : 
 But when she did his beavere raise, ^j^^^ii^ 
 " It is my life, my lord,*' she sayes, ^- 
 
 And shriekt and swounde awaye. 
 
 Syr Cauline just lifte up his eyes 
 
 When he heard his ladye crye : 
 " O ladye, I am thine own true love ; 
 
 For thee I wisht to dye." 
 
 TT^ 
 
 Mil A X. 
 
11^ 
 
 Then giving her one parting look. 
 
 He closed his eyes in death ; 
 Ere Christabelle, that ladje milde, 
 
 Began to draw her breathe. 
 
 But when she founde her comelye knighte 
 
 Indeed was dead and gone ; 
 She layde her pale cold cheeke to his, 
 
 And thus she made her moan : 
 
 " O staye my deare and onlye lord, 
 
 For me, thy faithfulle feere ; 
 'Tis meete that I sholde followe thee. 
 
 Who hast bought my love soe deare." 
 
 Then fayntinge in a deadlye swoune, 
 
 And with a deep fette sighe, 
 That burst her gentle heart in twayne, 
 
 Fayre Christabelle did dye. 
 
 ' Feere, mate, companion. — -^ Maj/, maiden. — ^ Dili^ grief. — Dight, 
 wrought. — ^ Man, must. — *' Bcmne, made ready. — ' Leecfilnge, mediu- 
 
 nal cure ^ 2'inc, lose. — ^ Dfj/e, suffer. — *^ Mores brodinge, wide 
 
 <lownSy or moors ? We are not satisfied with this explanation. Bro- 
 
ISO 
 
 dinge^ we apprehend, refers to the thorn, and not to the moors ; and is 
 
 equivalent to spreading, or umbrageous ' ^ Cryance, fear ^^ Minged, 
 
 mentioned — ^^ Slower, battle, O. Fr. Estour. — i^ Laye, law — ^^ Ga- 
 mon, fight. — 1^ Blanne, ceased. — ^'^ Mought, might. — ^^ Fette, fetched, 
 hewed — ^9 Nee, nigh, come nigh. 
 
 -'' Sir Cauline here acts up to the genuine spirit of perfect chivalry. In 
 old romancesno incident is of more frequent occurrence than this of knights 
 already distinguished for feats of arms, laying aside their wonted cogni- 
 zances, and, under the semblance of stranger knights, manfully perform- 
 ing right worshipful and valiant deeds. How often is the renowned 
 Arthur in such exhibitions obliged to exclaim " O Jhesu, whatknyghte 
 is that arrayed all in grene, (or as the case may be,) he justeth myghtely !" 
 The Emperor of Almaine in like manner, after the timely succour afford- 
 ed him by Syr Gowhter, is anxious to learn the name of his modest but 
 unknown deliverer. 
 
 Now dere God said the Empor, 
 
 WTien com the knyght that is so styfe and stowre 
 
 And al araide in rede 
 Both hors, armour, and his steede ? 
 A thowsand sarezyns he hath made blede 
 
 And heteen hem to dethe. 
 That heder is come to help me, 
 And yesterday in blak was he, 
 
 That stered hem in that stede. 
 And so he will er he goo hens 
 
 His dentis be hevy as lede. 
 
 In the romance of Roswall and Lillian Dissawer resorts to the same 
 devices as Sir Gowhter. In this incident the one seems to be almost a 
 literal transcript of the other. 
 
 Page 113, Prestlye, Bishop Percy says means quickly, readily- 
 Query, Was the glossarist not dreaming of the juggler's word^ presto, 
 at the time he gave this signification ? If the word occurs so written in 
 the folio M.S. from which the ballad is taken, it is nothing else than a 
 contraction for presentlye. 
 
 ^i Blee, complexion '-^^ JJend, courteous. — ^^s Shent, injured. — ^4 
 
 Brenne, burn. — '^^ Unmacklye, misshapen — '^^ Lettest, hinderest, de- 
 tainest: — ^2 7 jr^^^ ^^ i^^d, give blows. — '^^ LetJ^r, rather, the comparative 
 of lief. 
 
121 
 
 THE WIFE OF USHER'S WELL. 
 
 This fragment is given Jtrom the " Minstrelsy of the IScbttish febrder.' 
 
 There lived a wife at Usher's well, 
 And a wealthy wife was she : 
 
 She had three stout and stalwart sons, 
 And sent them o'er the sea. 
 
 They hadna been a week from her, 
 
 A week but barely ane, 
 When word came to the carline wife 
 
 That her three sons were gane. 
 
 They hadna been a week from her, 
 
 A week but barely three. 
 When word came to the carline wife, 
 
 That her sons she'd never see. 
 
 " I wish the wind may never cease, 
 
 Nor fishes in the flood. 
 Till my three sons come hame to me 
 
 In earthly flesh and blood ! 
 
122 
 
 It fell about the Martinmas, 
 
 When nights are lang and mirk, 
 
 The carline wife's three sons came hame, 
 And their hats were o' the birk. 
 
 It neither grew in syke nor ditch, 
 
 Nor yet in any sheugh ; 
 But at the gates o' Paradise, 
 
 That birk grew fair eneugh. 
 
 * * * * 
 
 " Blow up the fire my maidens, 
 
 Bring water from the well, 
 For a' my house shall feast this night 
 
 Since my three sons are well.*' 
 
 And she has made to them a bed, 
 She's made it large and wide : 
 
 And she's ta'en her mantle her about, 
 Set down at the bed-side. 
 
 * * * * 
 
123 
 
 Up then crew the red red cock, 
 
 And up and crew the gray ; 
 The eldest to the youngest said, 
 
 " *Tis time we were away." 
 
 The cock he hadna crawed but once. 
 And clapp'd his wings at a', 
 
 Whan the youngest to the eldest said, 
 " Brother we must awa'. 
 
 " The cock doth craw, the day doth daw, 
 The channerin' ^ worm doth chide ; 
 
 Gin we be mist out o* our place 
 A sair pain we maun bide. 
 
 " Fare ye weel, my brother dear ! 
 
 Fareweel to barn and byre ! 
 And fare ye weel, the bonny lass. 
 
 That kindles my mother's fire. 
 
 j> 
 
 * * 
 
 ^ Channerin, fretting. 
 XVI. Q 
 
124 
 
 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 This fragment, we believe, has never before been printed. It was com- 
 municated to us by an ingenious friend, who remembered having heard 
 it sung in his youth. A good many verses at the beginning, some about 
 the middle, and one or two at the end, seem to be wanting. More san. 
 guine antiquaries than we are, might, from the similarity of names, ima- 
 gine they had in this ballad discovered the original romance whence 
 Shakspeare had given this hne — 
 
 "Child Rowland to the dark tower came." 
 
 King Lear, Act III. 
 
 The story is of a very gloomy and superstitious texture. A young 
 lady, on the eve of her marriage, invited her lover to a banquet, where 
 she murders him in revenge for some real or fancied neglect. Alarmed 
 for her own safety, she betakes herself to flight ; and, in the course of 
 her journey, she sees a stranger knight riding slowly before her, whom 
 she at first seeks to shun, by pursuing an opposite direction ; but, on 
 finding that wheresoever she turned, he still appeared between her and 
 the moonlight, she resolves to overtake him. This, however, she finds 
 in vain, till, of his own accord, he stays for her at the brink of a broad 
 river. They agree to cross it ; and, when in the mid stream, she im- 
 plores his help to save her from drowning — to her horror she finds her 
 fellow-traveller to be no other than the gaunt apparition of her dead lorer. 
 
125 
 
 ^ ^ w ^ 
 
 Whan he cam to his ain hive's bouir 
 
 He tirl'd at the pin, 
 And sae ready was his fair fause luve 
 
 To rise and let him in. 
 
 " O welcome, welcome, Sir Roland," she says, 
 
 " Thrice welcome thou art to me, 
 For this night thou wilt feast in my secret bouir, 
 
 And to-morrow we'll wedded be." 
 
 " This night is hallow-eve," he said, 
 
 " And to-morrow is hallow-day ; 
 And I dreamed a drearie dream yestreen, 
 
 That has made my heart fu' wae. 
 
 " I dreamed a drearie dream yestreen. 
 
 And I wish it may cum to gude : 
 I dreamed that ye slew my best grew hound, 
 
 And gied me his lappered blude." 
 
 * * * * 
 
126 
 
 Unbuckle your belt, Sir Roland," she said, 
 
 '' And set you safely down.*' 
 " O your chamber is very dark, fair maid, 
 
 And the night is wondrous lown." 
 
 " Yes dark, dark is my secret bowir, 
 And lown the midnight may be, 
 
 For there is none waking in a* this tower. 
 But thou my true love and me." 
 
 * * *• * 
 
 She has mounted on her true love's steed, 
 
 By the ae light o' the moon ; 
 She has whipped him and spurred him, 
 
 And roundly she rade frae the toun. 
 
 She hadna ridden a mile o' gate. 
 
 Never a mile but ane, 
 Whan she was aware of a tall young man. 
 
 Slow riding o'er the plain. 
 
 She turned her to the right about. 
 Then to the left turn'd she, 
 
127 
 
 But aye, 'tween her and the wan moonhght, 
 That tall knight did she see. 
 
 And he was riding burd alane, 
 
 On a horse as black as jet, 
 But tho' she followed him fast and fell, 
 
 No nearer could she get. 
 
 " O stop ! stop ! young man," she said, 
 
 " For I in dule am dight ; 
 O stop, and win a fair lady's luve. 
 
 If you be a leal true knight." 
 
 But nothing did the tall knight say, 
 
 And nothing did he blin ; 
 Still slowly rode he on before, 
 
 And fast she rade behind. 
 
 She whipped her steed, she spurred her steed. 
 
 Till his breast was all a foam. 
 But nearer unto that tall young knight. 
 
 By our ladye she could not come. 
 
128 
 
 " O if you be a gay young knight, 
 
 As well I trow you be, 
 Pull tight your bridle reins, and stay 
 
 Till I come up to thee." 
 
 But nothing did that tall knight say, 
 
 And no whit did he blin. 
 Until he reached a broad river's side, 
 
 And there he drew his rein. 
 
 " O, is this water deep," he said, 
 
 " As it is wondrous dun ? 
 Or is it sic as a saikless maid. 
 
 And a leal true knight may swim ?'* 
 
 " The water it is deep," she said, 
 
 " As it is wondrous dun ; 
 But it is sic as a saikless maid. 
 
 And a leal true knight may swim." 
 
 The knight spurred on his tall black steed. 
 The lady spurred on her brown ; 
 
 And fast they rade unto the flood, 
 And fast they baith swam down. 
 
129 
 
 '•' The water weets my tae," she said, 
 
 " The water weets my knee, 
 And hold up my bridle reins, sir knight, 
 
 For the sake of Om* Ladye." 
 
 " If I would help thee now," he said, 
 
 " It were a deadly sin, 
 For I've sworn neir to trust a fair may's word, 
 
 Till the water weets her chin." 
 
 " the water weets my waist," she said, 
 
 Sae does it weet my skin. 
 And my aching heart rins round about, 
 
 The burn maks sic a din. 
 
 " The water is waxing deeper still, 
 
 Sae does it wax mair wide. 
 And aye the farther that we ride on 
 
 Farther off is the other side. 
 
 " 0, help me now, thou false false knight. 
 
 Have pity on my youth, 
 For now the water jawes owre my head. 
 
 And it gurgles in my mouth." 
 
130 
 
 The knight turned right and round about, 
 
 All in the middle stream. 
 And he stretched out his head to that lady, 
 
 But loudly she did scream. 
 
 ** O this is hallow-morn," he said, 
 
 " And it is your bridal day, 
 But sad would be that gay wedding. 
 
 If bridegroom and bride were away. 
 
 " And ride on, ride on, proud Margaret ! 
 
 Till the water comes o'er your bree, 
 For the bride maun ride deep, and deeper yet, 
 
 Wha rides this ford wi' me. 
 
 " Turn round, turn round, proud Margaret ! 
 
 Turn ye round and look on me, 
 Thou hast killed a true knight under trust 
 
 And his ghost now links on with thee." 
 
 * * * * 
 
131 
 
 FAUSE FOODRAGE 
 
 Was first published in the Minstrelsy of the Scotish Border, where it 
 is stated to be given chiefly from Mrs. Brown of Falkland's MSS. The 
 Ballad is popular in Scotland, and there can be no reasonable doubt of 
 its authenticity. Like others, however, it has lost none of its beauties 
 by being distilled tlirough the alembic established at Abbotsford for the 
 pvirification of Ancient Song. 
 
 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, 
 
 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 ; 
 And they cast kevils them amang, 
 
 Wha suld gae kill the king. 
 
 XVI. Q 
 
132 
 
 some said yea, and some said nay, 
 Their words did not agree ; 
 
 Till up and got him Fause Foodrage, 
 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 hie chamber were laid. 
 
 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 keys 
 
 Hung hie upon a pin ; 
 And aye, as ae door he did unlock. 
 
 He has fastened it him behind. 
 
 Then up and raise him king Honour, 
 Says — " What means a* this din ? 
 
 Or what's the matter, Fause Foodrage, 
 Or wha has loot you in ?" 
 
133 
 
 " O ye my errand weel sail learn, 
 
 Before that I depart." 
 Then drew a knife, baith lang and sharp, 
 
 And pierced him to the heart. 
 
 Tlien up and got the queen hersell, 
 And fell low down on her knee : 
 
 ** spare my life, now, Fause Foodrage ! 
 For I never injured thee. 
 
 spare my life, now, Fause Foodrage ! 
 
 Until I lighter be ! 
 And see gin it be lad or lass, 
 King Honour has left wi' me." 
 
 ** O gin it be a lass," he says, 
 
 «* Weel nursed it sail be ; 
 But gin it be a lad bairn, 
 
 He sail be hanged hie. 
 
 1 winna spare for his tender age, 
 
 Nor yet for his hie hie kin ; 
 But soon as e'er he born is, 
 
 He sail mount the gallows pin." 
 
134 
 
 O four and twenty valiant knights 
 Were set the queen to guard! 
 
 And four stood aye at her bouir door 
 To keep both watch and ward. 
 
 But when the time drew near an end, 
 
 That she suld hghter be, 
 She cast about to find a wile, 
 
 To set her body free. 
 
 O she has birled these merry young men, 
 With the ale but and the wine, 
 
 Until they were as deadly drunk 
 As any wild wood swine. 
 
 " O narrow, narrow, is this window. 
 
 And big, big, am I grown !" 
 Yet through the might of Our Ladye, 
 
 Out at it she has gone. 
 
 Slie wandered up, she wandered down, 
 
 She wandered out and in ; 
 And, at last, into the very swine's stythe, 
 
 The queen brought forth a son. 
 
135 
 
 Then they cast kevils them amang 
 Which suld gae seek the queen ; 
 
 And the kevil fell upon Wise William, 
 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 ? 
 
 " O out o* this I winna rise, 
 Till a boon ye grant to me ; 
 
 To change your lass for this lad bairn. 
 Kino; Honour left me wi'. 
 
 And ye maun learn my gay goss hawk, 
 Riffht weel to breast a steed; 
 
 And I sail learn your turtle dow 
 As weel to write and read. 
 
 And ye maun learn my gay goss hawk 
 To wield baith bow and brand ; 
 
 And I sail learn your turtle dow 
 To lay gowd with her hand. 
 
136 
 
 At kirk and market when we meet, 
 
 We'll dare mak nae avowe, 
 But, — ' Dame, how does my gay goss hawk T 
 
 ' Madame, how does my dow ?*'* 
 
 When days were gane, and years come on, 
 Wise William he thought lang ; 
 
 And he's ta'en king Honour's son 
 A hunting for to gang. 
 
 It sae fell out, at this hunting, 
 
 Upon a simmer's day. 
 That they came by a fair castell 
 
 Stood on a sunny brae. 
 
 " O dinna ye see that bonny castell, 
 
 Wi' halls and towers sae fair ? 
 Gin ilka man had back his ain 
 
 Of it you suld be heir." 
 
 " How 1 suld be heir of that castell, 
 
 In sooth I canna see : 
 For it belangs to Fause Foodrage, 
 
 And he is na kin to me.'* 
 
 wk 
 
137 
 
 " O gin ye suld kill him, Fause Foodrage, 
 You would do but what was right ; 
 
 For, I wot, he killed your father dear, 
 Or ever ye saw the Hght. 
 
 And gin ye suld kill him, Fause Foodrage, 
 There is no man dui'st vou blame ; 
 
 For he keeps your mother a prisoner, 
 And she daurna take ye hame." 
 
 The boy stared wild, like a gray goss hawk; 
 
 Says — " What may a' this mean ?" 
 ** My boy, ye are king Honour's son, 
 
 And your mother's our lawful queen.*' 
 
 " irin I be king Honour's son. 
 
 By Our Ladye, I swear, 
 This night I will that traitor slay, 
 
 And relieve my mother dear !*' 
 
 He has set his bent bow to his breast. 
 
 And leaped the castell wa*; 
 And soon he has seized Fause Foodrage, 
 
 Wha loud for help 'gan ca'. 
 
138 
 
 " O haud your tongue now, Fause Foodrage, 
 
 Frae me ye shanna flee." 
 Syne pierced him through the fause fause heart 
 
 And set his mother free. 
 
 And he has rewarded Wise Wilham 
 
 Wi' the best half of his land; 
 And sae has he the turtle dow 
 
 Wi' the truth o' his right hand. 
 
 Kevils — Lots. Both words originally meant only a portion or share 
 of any thing. Leges Burgorum, cap. 59, de lot, cut, or cavil. Statuta 
 
 Gild(E, cap. 20 — Nullus emat lanarn, &c nisifuerit conf rater Gildce, &c. 
 
 Neque lot, ?ieque cavil, habeat cum aliquo confratre nostro. In both these 
 laws, lot and cavil signify a share in trade — Border Minstrelsy, vol. 3. 
 In an inventory of the goods and gear belonging to an ancestor of the 
 Editor's, dated 23d June, I692, this word occurs not as a substantive, 
 but as a verb : " Hem, twa pair of iron harnes. Item, y'. is in the cloase 
 chist ane coffer av'. peapers after mentioned, viz. (some of the papers are 
 here enumerated); and ordaines the foiu- curators to cavell for keeping 
 of the coffer and peapers, and to take up ane just inventur of the s**. dis- 
 charges, as they will be ansuerable." 
 
 Dow — Dove. Lay gaud — To embroider in gold. 
 
139 
 
 FAIR JANET. 
 
 This is by far the most complete, and apparently genuine, copy 
 that we have yet met witli, of the Ballad which is usually printed under 
 the title of " Willie and Annet," or of that improved version of the 
 same Ballad, published by Mr. Finlay, under the title of " Sweet Willie." 
 It is taken from the " Ballad Book," a volume of extreme rarity,* edited 
 by Mr. Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe, to whose kindness we stand indebted 
 for this and many other similar favours. 
 
 To " Fair Janet," Mr. Shai-pe has prefixed the following notice. 
 " This Ballad, the subject of which appears to have been very popular, 
 is printed as it was sung by an old M^oman in Perthshire. The air is 
 extremely beautiful." From the Ballads of " Willie and Annet" and 
 " Sweet Willie," we have taken three stanzas, and inserted them in 
 this copy, but these are enclosed by brackets, so as to preserve the 
 piu-ity and integrity of Mr. Sharpe's text undisturbed. 
 
 " Ye maun gang to your father, Janet, 
 Ye maun gang to him soon ; 
 
 Ye maun gang to your father, Janet, 
 In case that his days are dune !" 
 
 • only thirty copies were printed for distiibution among the Eilitor's private frienoA. 
 
 XVIII. s 
 
140 
 
 Janet's awa' to her father, 
 
 As fast as she could hie ; 
 " O, what's your will wi' me, father ? 
 
 O, what's your will wi' me?" 
 
 " 1 
 
 My will wi' you, Fair Janet," he said, 
 " It is both bed and board ; 
 Some say that ye lo'e Sweet Willie, 
 But ye maun wed a French Lord." 
 
 *' A French Lord maun I wed, father / 
 A French Lord maun I wed ? 
 
 Then, by my sooth," quo' Fair Janet, 
 " He's ne'er enter my bed." 
 
 Janet's awa' to her chamber. 
 
 As fast as she could go ; 
 Wha's the first ane that tapped there. 
 
 But Sweet Willie her jo ! 
 
 "O we maun part this love, Willie, 
 
 That has been lang between ; 
 There's a French Lord comin» o'er the sea 
 
 To wed me wi' a rina; ; 
 
 
 mk 
 
141 
 
 There's a French Lord coming o'er tlie sea 
 To wed and tak me hame." 
 
 " If we maun part this love, Janet, 
 
 It causeth mickle woe ; 
 If we maun part this love, Janet, 
 
 It makes me into mourning go.'* 
 
 " But ye maun gang to your three sisters, 
 
 Meg, Marion, and Jean ; 
 Tell them to come to Fair Janet, 
 
 In case that her days are dune." 
 
 Willie's awa' to his three sisters, 
 
 Meg, Marion, and Jean ; 
 " haste, and gang to Fair Janet, 
 
 I fear that her days are dune." 
 
 Some drew to them their silken hose. 
 Some drew to them their shoon, 
 
 Some drew to them their silk manteils, 
 Their coverings to put on ; 
 
 And they're awa' to Fair Janet, 
 By the hie light o' the moon. 
 
142 
 
 * * * 
 
 " 0, I have born this babe, WiUie. 
 
 Wi' mickle toil and pain ; 
 Take hame, take hame, your babe, Willie, 
 
 For nurse I dare be nane." 
 
 He's tane his young son in his arms, 
 And kist him cheek and chin — 
 
 And he's awa' to his mother's bower, 
 By the hie light o' the moon. 
 
 " O, open, open, mother," he says, 
 
 " O, open, and let me in ; 
 The rain rains on my yellow hair, 
 
 And the dew drops o'er my chin — 
 And I hae my young son in my arms, 
 
 I fear that his days are dune." 
 
 With her fingers lang and sma' 
 
 She lifted up the pin ; 
 And with her arms lang and sma' 
 ■ Received the baby in. 
 
143 
 
 " Gae back, gae back, now Sweet Willie, 
 And comfort your fair lady ; 
 
 For where ye had but ae nourice 
 Your young son shall hae three." 
 
 Willie he was scarce awa', 
 And the lady put to bed, 
 
 When in and came her father dear, 
 " Make haste, and busk the bride. 
 
 >» 
 
 " There's a sair pain in my head, father, 
 There's a sair pain in my side ; 
 
 And ill, oh ill, am I, father, 
 This day for to be a bride." 
 
 " O ye maun busk this bonny bride, 
 
 And put a gay mantle on ; 
 For she shall wed this auld French Lord, 
 
 Gin she should die the morn." 
 
 Some put on the gay green robes. 
 And some put on the brown, 
 
 But Janet put on the scarlet robes^ 
 To shine foremost through the town. 
 
144 
 
 And some they mounted the black steed, 
 And some mounted the brown, 
 
 But Janet mounted the milk-white steed. 
 To ride foremost through the town. 
 
 " O, wha will guide your horse, Janet? 
 
 O, wha will guide him best ?" 
 ** 0, wha but Willie, my true love, 
 
 He kens I lo'e him best !" 
 
 And when they cam to Marie's kirk, 
 
 To tye the haly ban ; 
 Fair Janet's cheek looked pale and wan, 
 
 And her colour gaed and cam. 
 
 When dinner it was past and done, 
 
 And dancing to begin ; 
 " O, we'll go take the bride's maidens, 
 
 And we'll go fill the ring." 
 
 ben then cam the auld French Lord, 
 Saying, " Bride, will ye dance with me.^" 
 
 " Awa', awa,' ye auld French Lord, 
 Your face I downa see." 
 
145 
 
 O ben than cam now Sweet Willie, 
 
 He came with ane advance; 
 " O, ril go tak the bride's maidens, 
 
 And we'll go take a dance." 
 
 " I've seen ither days wi' you, Willie, 
 
 And so has mony mae ; 
 Ye would hae danced wi' me mysel,* 
 
 Let a' my maidens gae." 
 
 O ben than cam now, Sweet Willie, 
 
 Saying, " Bride, will ye dance wi' me ?'' 
 
 " Aye, by my sooth, and that I will. 
 Gin my back should break in three." 
 
 [And she's ta'en Willie by the hand, 
 
 The tear blinded her e*e ; 
 " O, I wad dance wi' my true love, 
 
 Tho' bursts my heart in three !"] 
 
 She hadna turned her through the dance. 
 Through the dance but thrice. 
 
 When she fell down at Willie's feet, 
 And up did never rise ! 
 
14" 
 
 146 
 
 [She's ta*en her bracelet frae her arm, 
 
 Her garter frae her knee; 
 " Gie that, gie that, to my young son, 
 
 He'll ne'er his mother see-"] 
 
 Willie's ta'en the key of his coffer, 
 
 And o;i'en it to his man, 
 " Gie hame and tell my mother dear, 
 
 My horse he has me slain; 
 Bid her be kind to my young son, 
 
 For father he has nane." 
 
 [" Gar deal, gar deal the bread," he cried, 
 " Gar deal, gar deal the wine, 
 
 This day has seen my true love's death, 
 This night shall witness mine."] 
 
 The tane was buried in Marie's kirk, 
 And the tither in Marie's quier. 
 
 Out of the tane there grew a birk, 
 And the tither a bonny brier. 
 
147 
 
 CLERK SAUNDERS. 
 
 " This romantic Ballad is taken from Mr. Herd's MSS., with several 
 corrections from a shorter and more imperfect copy, in the same volume, 
 and one or two conjectural emendations in the arrangement of the 
 stanzas. The resemblance of the conclusion to the Ballad beginning, 
 " There came a ghost to Margaret's door," will strike every reader. 
 The Tale is uncommonly wild and beautiful, and apparently very cor- 
 rect. The custom of the passing bell is still kept up in many villages 
 in Scotland. The sexton goes through the town ringing a small bell, 
 and announcing the death of the departed, and the time of the funeral. 
 The three concluding verses have been recovered since the first edition 
 of this work ; and I am informed by the reciter, that it was usual to 
 separate from the rest that part of the Ballad which follows the death 
 of the lovers, as belonging to another story. For this, however, there 
 seems no necessity, as other authorities give the whole as a complete 
 Tale." Border Minstrelsy, Vol. II. p. 405, 5th Edition. 
 
 Two different copies of this pathetic and deeply interesting Ballad 
 have been published ; the one by the Author of the admirable work 
 above quoted, which is followed here, and the other by Mr. Jamieson, 
 which, though of inferior beauty, is not the less valuable, as illustrating 
 the transmutations to which traditionary song is inevitably subjected. 
 To the copy we have adopted, we were almost inclined to prefix the fol- 
 lowing verses, which begin the copy preserved by Mr. Jamieson :-;- 
 
 Clerk Saunders was an Earl's 6on» 
 
 He liv'd upon sea sand; 
 May Margaret was a king''s daughter, 
 
 She liv'd in upper land. 
 
 XIX. T 
 
148 
 
 Clerk Saunders was an earl's son, 
 
 Weel learned at the scheel ; 
 May Margaret was a king's daughter, 
 
 They baith lo'ed ither weel. 
 
 Because they supply information as to the rank in society respectively 
 held by these ill-fated lovers, and by hinting at the scholastic acquire- 
 ments of Clerk Saunders, they prepare us for the casuistry by which he 
 seeks to reconcile May Margaret's conscience to a most Jesuitical oath. 
 
 Clerk Saunders and May Margaret, 
 
 Walked over yon garden green ; 
 And sad and heavy was the love 
 
 That fell thir twa between. 
 
 " A bed, a bed,'* Clerk Saunders said, 
 
 " A bed for you and me !" 
 " Fye, na, fye, na," said May Margaret, 
 
 " Till anes we married be. 
 
 " For in may come my seven bauld brothers, 
 
 Wi* torches burning bright; 
 They'll say — ' We hae but ae sister, 
 
 And behold she's wi' a knight !' " 
 
149 
 
 " Then take the sword frae my scabbard, 
 
 And slowly lift the pin ; 
 And you may swear, and safe your aith, 
 
 Ye never let Clerk Saunders in. 
 
 " And take a napkin in your hand, 
 And tie up baith your bonny een ; 
 
 And ye may swear, and safe your aith, 
 Ye saw me na since late yestreen." 
 
 It was about the midnight hour. 
 
 When they asleep were laid, 
 When in and cam her seven brothers, 
 
 Wi' torches burning red. 
 
 When in and cam her seven brothers, 
 
 Wi' torches shining bright ; 
 They said — " We hae but ae sister, 
 
 And behold her lying wi' a knight !" 
 
 Then out and spake the first o* them, 
 " I bear the sword shall gar him die!'* 
 
 And out and spake the second o' them, 
 " His father has nae mair than he !" 
 
150 
 
 And out and spake the third o' them, 
 " I wot that they are lovers dear !" 
 And out and spake the fourth o' them, 
 /' Thej hae been in love this mony a year!*' 
 
 Then out and spake the fiftli o' them, 
 " It were great sin true love to twain!'* 
 
 And out and spake the sixth o' them, 
 " It were shame to slay a sleeping man !" 
 
 Then up and gat the seventh o' them, 
 
 And never a word spake he; 
 But he has striped his bright brown brand, 
 
 Out through Clerk Saunders* fair bodye. 
 
 Clerk Saunders hestarted,and Margaretshe turned 
 
 Into his arms as asleep she lay; 
 And sad and silent was the night 
 
 That was atween thir twae. 
 
 And they lay still and sleeped sound, 
 
 Until the day began to daw, 
 And kindly to him she did say, 
 
 "Its time, true love, you were awa." 
 
151 
 
 But he lay still and sleeped sound, 
 Albeit the sun began to sheen; 
 
 She looked atween her and the wa* 
 And dull and drowsie were his een. 
 
 Then in and came her father dear, 
 Said — " Let a' your mourning be ; 
 
 ril carry the dead corpse to the clay, 
 And I'll come back and comfort thee." 
 
 " Comfort weel your seven sons, 
 
 For comforted will I never be; 
 I ween 'twas neither knave nor lown 
 
 Was in the bower last night wi' me." 
 
 The clinking bell gaed through the town, 
 To carry the dead corpse to the clay; 
 
 And Clerk Saunders stood at May Margaret's 
 window, 
 I wot, an hour before the day. 
 
 " Are ye sleeping, Margaret V* he says, 
 
 " Or are ye walking presently? 
 Give me my faith and troth again, 
 
 I wot, true love, I gave to thee." 
 
152 
 
 " Your faith and troth ye sail never get. 
 
 Nor our true love sail never twin, 
 Until ye come within my bower, 
 
 And kiss me cheek and chin.'* 
 
 " My mouth it is full cold, Margaret, 
 It has the smell now of the ground; 
 
 And if I kiss thy comely mouth. 
 Thy days of Kfe will not be lang. 
 
 " O cocks are crowing a merry midnight, 
 I wot, the wild-fowls are boding day; 
 
 Give me my faith and troth again, 
 And let me fare me on my way." 
 
 " Thy faith and troth thou sail na get, 
 And our true love sail never twin, 
 
 Until ye tell what comes of women, 
 I wat, who die in strong traivelling ?" 
 
 " Their beds are made in the heavens higli, 
 Down at the feet of our good Lord's knee, 
 
 Weel set about wi' gillyflowers, 
 I wot sweet company for to see. 
 
153 
 
 " O cocks are crowing a merry midnight, 
 I wot, the wild-fowls are boding day ; 
 
 The psalms of heaven will soon be sung, 
 And I ere now will be missed away." 
 
 Then she has ta'en a chrystal wand, 
 And she has stroken her troth thereon; 
 
 She has given it him out at the shot window, 
 Wi' mony a sad sigh and heavy groan. 
 
 " I thank ye, Margaret ; I thank ye, Margaret ; 
 
 And aye I thank ye heartilie; 
 Gin ever the dead come for the quick, 
 
 Be sure, Margaret, I'll come for thee. 
 
 It's hosen and shoon, and gown alone, 
 She climbed the wall and followed him, 
 
 Until she came to the green forest, 
 And there she lost the sight o' him. 
 
 " Is there ony room at your head, Saunders ? 
 
 Is there ony room at your feet ? 
 Or ony room at your side, Saunders ? 
 
 Where fain, fain, I would sleep." 
 
\ 
 
 154 
 
 " There's nae room at my head, Marg'ret, 
 There's nae room at my feet ; 
 
 My bed it is full lowly now : 
 
 Amang the hungry worms I sleep. 
 
 " Cauld mould is my covering now, 
 
 But and my winding sheet: 
 The dew it falls nae sooner down, 
 
 Than my resting place is weet. 
 
 " But plait a wand o' bonny birk, 
 
 And lay it on my breast; 
 And shed a tear upon my grave, 
 
 And wish my saul gude rest. 
 
 " And fair Marg'ret, and rare Marg'ret, ^ 
 
 And Marg'ret o' veritie. 
 Gin ere ye love another man, 
 
 Ne'er love him as ye did me." ^ 
 
 Then up and crew the milk white cock, 
 
 And up and crew the gray ; 
 Her lover vanished in the air, 
 
 And she gaed weeping away. 
 
 
155 
 
 WILLIE AND MAY MARGARET. 
 
 This fragment, which Mr. Jamieson has published, and which possesses 
 considerable merit, he states was procured from Mrs. Brown of Falkland 
 — a lady to whom much of the traditionary poetry of Scotland is mainly 
 indebted for preservation. 
 
 '* GiE corn to my horse, mither, 
 
 Gie meat unto my man; 
 For I maun gang to Margaret's 
 
 Before the nicht comes on." 
 
 " O stay at home now, my son Willie ! 
 
 The wind blaws cald and dour ; 
 The nicht will be baith mirk and late 
 
 Before ye reach her bower." 
 
 (( 
 
 O, though the night were ever sae dark, 
 Or the wind blew never sae cald, 
 
 XX. u 
 
156 
 
 I will be in my Margaret's bower 
 Before twa hours be tald." 
 
 ** O gin ye gang to May Margaret, 
 
 Without the leave of me, 
 Clyde's water's wide and deep enough ;- 
 
 My malisoun drown thee!" 
 
 He mounted on his coal-black steed, 
 
 And fast he rade awa ; 
 But, ere he came to Clyde's water, • 
 
 Fu' loud the wind did blaw. 
 
 As he rode o'er yon hich, hich hill, 
 
 And down yon dowie den, 
 There was a roar in Clyde water 
 
 Wad fear'd a hunder men. 
 
 His heart was warm, his pride was up ; 
 
 Sweet Willie kentna fear; 
 But yet his mother's malison 
 
 Ay sounded in his ear. 
 
 O he has swam through Clyde water 
 Though it was wide and (Jeep ; 
 
157 
 
 And he came to May Margaret's door 
 When a' were fast asleep. 
 
 O he's gane round and round about, 
 
 And tirled at the pin j 
 But doors were steek*d, and windows barr'd, 
 
 And nane wad let him in. 
 
 " O, open the door to me, Margaret — 
 
 O, open and let me in ! 
 For my boots are full o' Clyde's water, 
 
 And frozen to the brim." 
 
 " I darena open the door to you, 
 
 Nor darena lat you in ; 
 For my mither she is fast asleep. 
 
 And darena mak nae din.' 
 
 >» 
 
 " O gin ye winna open the door, 
 
 Nor yet be kind to me, 
 Now tell me o' some out chamber 
 
 ^V^le^e I this nicht may be." 
 
 " Ye canna win in this nicht, Willie, 
 Nor here ye canna be ; 
 
158 
 
 For I've nae chambers out nor in, 
 Nae ane but barelj three : 
 
 " The tane o' them is fu' o* corn, 
 
 The tither is fu' o' hay — 
 The tither is fu' o' merry young men, 
 
 They winna remove till day." 
 
 " O, fare ye weel, then, May Margaret, 
 
 Sin' better mauna be ; 
 I've win my mother's malison 
 
 Coming this nicht to thee." 
 
 He's mounted on his coal-black steed — 
 
 O, but his heart was wae ! 
 But, ere he came to Clyde water, 
 
 'Twas half up o'er the brae. 
 
 But 
 
 7^ ^ ^ ^ 
 
 -he plunged in, 
 
 never raise agam. 
 
159 
 
 The following lines are written, in an old hand, in a copy of Lovelace's 
 
 Lucaste, London, 1679- 
 
 A STEED ! a steed of matchlesse speede ! 
 
 A sword of metal keene ! 
 Al else to noble heartes is drosse — 
 
 Al else on earth is meane. 
 The neighynge of the war-horse prowde, 
 
 Tlie rowleinge of the drum, 
 The clangour of the trumpet lowde — 
 
 Be soundes from heaven that come. 
 And, oh ! the thundering presse of knightes, 
 
 Whenas their war-cryes swelle, 
 May tole from heaven an angel bright, 
 
 And rowse a fiend from hell. 
 
 Then mounte ! then mounte brave Gallants all 
 
 And don your helmes amaine ; 
 Deathe's couriers. Fame and Honour, call 
 
 Us to the field againe. 
 No shrewish tears shal fill our eye 
 
 When the sword-hilt's in our hand ; 
 Heart-whole we'll parte, and no whit sighe 
 
 For the fayrest of the land. 
 
160 
 
 Let piping swaine, and craven wight. 
 Thus weepe and puhng crye ; 
 
 Our businesse is like men to fighte, 
 And, like to Heroes, die ! 
 
161 
 
 THE CRUEL MOTHEB. 
 
 A SMALL fragment of this ballad appeared in the introductory note to 
 the ballad of Lady Anne, printed in the Border Minstrelsy, volume 2. 
 Through the kindness of a friend we are now enabled to give the ballad 
 in a complete state. Like many other ancient pieces of a similar de- 
 scription, it has a burden of no meaning and much childishness ; the re- 
 petition of which, at the end of the first and third lines of every stanza, 
 has been omitted. The reader, however, has a right to have the ballad 
 as we received it; and, therefore, he may, in the first of the places point- 
 ed out, insert 
 
 " Three, three, and three by three ;" 
 and, in the second, 
 
 " Three, three, and thirty-three ;" 
 which will give him it entire and unmutilated. 
 
 She leaned her back unto a thorn, 
 And there she has her two babes born. 
 
 She took frae 'bout her ribbon-belt, 
 
 And there she bound them hand and foot. 
 
 She has ta*en out her wee penknife, 
 And there she ended baith their hfe. 
 
162 
 
 Huntly, and some well-set friends settled this feud, and Frendraught or- 
 dained to pay to the lady relict of Rothemay and the bairns, fifty thousand 
 merks in composition of the slaughter, whilk as was said was truly paid. 
 
 " Upon the 27th September 1630, the laird of Frendraught having in his 
 company Robert Crightoun of Candlan, and James Lesly, son to John Lesly 
 of Pitcaple, with some other servants, the said Robert after some speeches 
 shoots the said James Lesly through the arm. They were parted, and he 
 convoyed to Pitcaple, and the other Frendraught shot out of his company. 
 
 " Likeas Frendraught upon the fifth of October held conference with the 
 earl of Murray in Elgin, and upon the morn he came to the Bog of Gight,* 
 where the marquis made him welcome. Pitcaple loups on about 30 horse 
 in jack and spear, (hearing of Frendraught's being in the Bog) upon Thurs- 
 day the 7th of October, and came to the marquis, who before his comin<^ 
 had discreetly directed Frendraught to confer with his lady. Pitcaple 
 heavily complains of the hurt his son had got in Frendraught's company, 
 and rashly avowed to be revenged before he went home. The marquis 
 alledged Frendaught had done no wrong, and dissuaded him from any 
 trouble. Pitcaple, displeased with the marquis, suddenly went to horse, 
 and that same day rides his own ways, leaving Frendraught behind him in 
 the Bog, to whom the marquis revealed what conference was betwixt him 
 and Pitcaple, and held him all that night, and would not let him go. Upon 
 the morn being Friday, and a night of October, the marquis caused Fren- 
 draught to breakfast lovingly and kindly ; after breakfast, the marquis directs 
 his dear son, viscount of Aboyn, with some servants, to convoy Frendraught 
 home to his own house, if Pitcaple was laid for him by the way; John Gor- 
 don, eldest son to the late slain Rothemay, happened to be in the Bog, who 
 would also go with Aboyn ; they ride without interruption to the place of 
 Frendraught, or sight of Pitcaple by the way. Aboyn took his leave from 
 the laird, but upon no condition he and his lady would not suffer him to 
 go, nor none that was with him that nighty but earnestly urged him, (though 
 
 • From Gordon of Gight was maternally descended the late Lord Bjrron. 
 
163 
 
 against his will) to bide. They were well entertained, supped merrily, and 
 went to bed joyfully. The viscount was laid in an bed in the Old Tower 
 goins: off the hall, and standing upon a vault, wherein there was an rqund 
 iiolf^ devised of old, just under Aboyn's bed. Robert Gordon, born in 
 Sutherland, his servitor, and English Will his page, were both laid beside 
 him in the same chamber ; the laird of Rothemay with some servants beside 
 him, was laid in an upper chamber just above Aboyn's chamber ; and in 
 another room eibove that chamber, was laid George Chalmers of Noth, and 
 (Teorge Gordon another of the viscount's servants ; with them also was laid 
 captain RoUock, then in Frendraught's own company. Thus all being at 
 rest, about midnight, that dolorous tower took fire in so sudden and furious 
 manner, yea and in an clap, that the noble viscount, the laird of Rothemayj, 
 English Will, Colonel Ivat, another of Aboyn's servants, and other two, 
 being six in number, were cruelly burnt and tormented to the death with- 
 out help or relief. The laird of Frendraught, his lady, and haill household, 
 looking on, without moving or striving to deliver them fi-om the fury of this 
 fearful fire, as was reported. Robert Gordon, called Sutherland Robei-t 
 being in the viscount's chamber, escaped this fire with the life. George 
 Chalmers and captain Rollock, being in the third room, escaped also this 
 fire, and as was said, Aboyn might hava saved himself also, if he would 
 have gone out of doors, which he would not do, but suddenly ran up stairs 
 to Rothemay's chamber and wakened him to rise ; and as he is wakening 
 him, the timber passage and lofting of the chamber hastily takes fire, so 
 that none of them could win down stairs again, so they turned to a window 
 looking to the close, where they piteously cryed, many time, help, help ! 
 for God's cause ! The laird and the lady with their servants all seeing and 
 hearing the woeful crying, made no help nor manner of helping, which they 
 perceis^ing, cried oftentimes mercy at God's hands for their sins, sine clasped 
 in others arms, and cheerfully suffered their martyrdom. Thus died this 
 uoble viscount, of singulai- expectation, Rothemay a brave youth, and the 
 rest, by this doleful fire never enough to be deplored, to the great grief and 
 sorrow of their kin, parents, and haill common people, especially to the noble 
 marquis, who for his good will got this rewai-d. No man can express the 
 <lolour of him and his lady, nor yet the grief of the viscount's own deai- lady, 
 
164 
 
 when it came to her earsj which she kept to her dying day, disdaining 
 after the company of man in her lifetime, following the love of the turtle 
 dove. 
 
 " How soon the marquis gets wwd, he du-ects some friends to take up 
 theu- ashes and burnt bones, which they could get, and as they could be 
 kent, to put ilk one's ashes and bones in an chest, being six chests in the 
 haill, which with great sorrow and care, was had to the kirk of GarntuUie, 
 and there buried. In the mean time the marquis writes to the lord Gor- 
 don, then dwelling in Inverness, of the accident. It is reported that upon 
 the morn after this woeful fire, the lady Frendraught, daughter to the earl 
 of Sutherland, and near cousin to the marquis, busked in a white plaid^ and 
 riding on a small nag, having a boy leading her horse, without any more in 
 lier company, in this pitiful manner she came weeping and mourning to 
 the Bog, desuing entry to speak with my lord, but this was refused, so she 
 returned back to her own house the same gate she came, comfortless. 
 
 " The lord Gordon, upon the receipt of the marquis's letter, came hastily 
 to the Bog, conveened William, with whose sister the viscount was married, 
 aftd many other friends, who, after serious consideration, concluded this 
 feai'ful file could not come by chance, sloth, or accident, but that it was 
 plotted and devised of set purpose, as ye may hereafter see, whereof Fren- 
 draught, his lady, and servants and fi'iends, one or other was upon tliti 
 knowledge ; so thii' friends dissolves, and the marquis would not revenge 
 himself by way of deed, but seek the laws with all diligence, whereunto he 
 had more than reason. 
 
 " Now there was a gentleman called John Meldrum, who some time 
 served the laird of Frendraught, and got not good payment of his fee^ as he 
 alledged, whereat he was miscontent ; this Meldrum thereafter maiTied with 
 Pitcaple's sister, and the hurting of James Lesly made this grief the gi'eater, 
 and bred some suspicion of the raising of this fire, whereupon he with one 
 
 John Toasch, servitor to Frendraught, and an young woman called 
 
 Wood, daughter to the laird of Colpnay, all suspected ])ersous to be either 
 airt and part, or on the comiscl of this fire, one or other of them, were ap- 
 prehended and warded in the Tolbooth of Edinburgh. This young gentle- 
 
165 
 
 woman was first accused before the Lords of Session, and sharply examined. 
 She stands to her innocence, and denies all ; she is therefore put into the 
 l)Oots, and cruelly tortured, yet confesses nothing, whereupon she is get to 
 Ul)erty, as an innocent, but tlie other two men are kept in strait ward, where 
 I will leave them till afterwards. 
 
 " His majesty gone to London, the lady marchioness and lady Aboyn 
 stay behind him in Edinburgh, using all the means they could, for trial of 
 the fire of Frendraught; at last she causes put John Meldrum and John 
 Toasch, who ye hard before were warded in the Tolbootli of Edinbmgh, to 
 trial. And first the lords, upon the second and third days of August, began 
 to accuse the said John Meldrum what he knew anent the said fire; and 
 therewith examined him upon certain speeches, whilk he, as was alledged, 
 had spoken concerning that purpose; he utterly denied all; and what he 
 said was written. Thereafter the lords begins another day to re-examine 
 him, could find no light; yet found him varying fi-ae his first declaration 
 in some circumstances, and therefore the lords shortly refers him to the 
 trial of an assize, where he was convicted and condemned to be hanged to 
 the death at the Cross of Edinburgh; liis head to be stricken frae his shoul- 
 ders, and his body demaimed and quartered, and set up on exemplary places 
 of the town, in example of others to do the like. He was executed upon 
 
 the day of August, and died without any certain and real confession, 
 
 as was said, anent this doleful fire." 
 
 To the foregoing we may add the following observations on the same 
 event, by the author of the " Genealogical History of the Earldom of 
 Sutherland :" — 
 
 " The rumour of this vnhappie accident did spedelie spread itselfF throw- 
 out the whole kingdom, everie man bevailling it, and constructing it divers- 
 lie, as ther affections led them ; some laying ane aspersion vpon Frendret, 
 as if he had wilfullie destroyed his guests, who had come thither to defend 
 him against his enemies, whicli careid no appeirance of truth; for besydes 
 the improbabilitie of the mater, lie did lose tlierin a great quantitie of silver, 
 both cunyeid and vncunyeid, and lykewise all his writs and evidents wer 
 therin burnt. Otliers ascryved it to an accidental! fyre ; but most pairt evin 
 
166 
 
 presentlie suspected it to come from the Leslie's and ther adherents, who 
 were then so inraged against Frendret, that they gave out openlie they wold 
 burn the place of Frendret, and had delt to this eflFect with the rebell Jame^ 
 Grant, who wes Pitcaple his cousen-germane. This was proved in presence 
 of the Lords of the Councell against John Meldrum and Alexander Leslie 
 (the laird of Pitcaple his brother) by two of James Grant's men, who were 
 apprehended at Invernesse, and sent to the Lords of the Councell by sir 
 Robert Gordoun (tutor of Southerland) shiiTefF of that shire." 
 
 The case of Meldrum is noticed by Burnet, in his valuable work on the 
 Criminal Law of Scotland, chap. 22. p. 567, as resting wholly on strong 
 and conclusive presumptions, but on no direct evidence. The same writer 
 mentions, that the pleadings in the case display much learning and acuteness 
 on the subject of circumstantial evidence. One of these, namely, " An 
 Exhortation to the Assize/' by Meldrum's advocate, will be found in the 
 Appendix to this Volume. For this curious document, copied from the 
 Criminal Records, we are indebted to the kindness of the same gentleman 
 from whom we had tliis Ballad. 
 
 This tragical event also forms the subject of two poems, wTitten by 
 Arthur Johnston, the one of which is entitled " Querela Sophise Hayae, 
 Dominse de Melgeine, de morte mariti;" and the other, " De loanne 
 Gordonio, Vicecomite de Melgein, & loanne Gordonio de Rothimay in arce 
 Frendriaca combustis." Vide Belitice Poetarum Scotonim, Amst. 1637, 
 tom. I. pp. 585, &c. 
 
 The modern Ballad of " Frennet Hall" fii-st appeared, we believe, in 
 Herd's Collection, and was belike written by the ingenious hands to whom 
 we are indebted for the Ballads of "Duncan " and "Kenneth," occuring in the 
 same work ; and which, by the way, we may be pardoned for saying, are 
 but indifferent imitations of the ancient Ballad style. " Frennet Hall" was 
 subsequently published by Ritson and Finlay in their respective Collections, 
 both of whom give a few stanzas of the ancient Ballad, differing however 
 some little from the corresponding verses in the present copy, but not more 
 80 than may be looked for in all cases where poetry is indebted for its pre- 
 servation to tradition alone. 
 
 A portrait of the Lady Frendraught, by Jamieson, is, we are informed, 
 in the possession of Mr. Morrison of Bogny. 
 
 I 
 
167 
 
 The eighteenth of October, 
 
 A dismal tale to hear, 
 
 How good Lord John and Rothiemay 
 
 Was both burnt in the fire. 
 
 When steeds was saddled and well bridled 
 And ready for to ride. 
 Then out came her and false Frendraught, 
 Inviting them to bide. 
 
 Said — " Stay this night untill we sup, 
 The morn untill we dine; 
 'Twill be a token of good 'greement 
 'Twixt your good Lord and mine." 
 
 " We'll turn again," said good Lord John — 
 " But no," said Rothiemay — 
 " My steed's trapan'd, my bridle's broken, 
 I fear the day I'm fey.' 
 
 »♦ 
 
 When mass was sung, and bells was rung, 
 And all men bound for bed, 
 Then good Lord John and Rothiemay 
 In one chamber was laid. 
 
168 
 
 They had not long cast off their cloaths, 
 And were but now asleep — 
 When the weary smoke began to rise, 
 Likewise the scorching heat. 
 
 " O waken, waken, Rothiemay, 
 O waken, brother dear, 
 And turn you to our Saviour, 
 There is strong treason here." 
 
 V 
 
 When they were dressed in their cloaths, 
 And ready for to boun ; i 
 
 The doors and windows was all secured I 
 
 The roof tree burning down. 
 
 He did him to the wire-window 
 
 As fast as he could gang — 
 
 Says — " Wae to the hands put in the stan- 
 
 cheons, ■ 
 
 For out we'll never win." | 
 
 I 
 
 When he stood at the wire-window, 
 
 ■J 
 
 Most doleful to be seen, 
 
 He did espy her. Lady Frendraught, 
 
 Who stood upon the green. 
 
169 
 
 Cried — " ]\Iercy, mercy, Lady Frendraught, 
 Will ye not sink with sin? 
 For first your husband killed my father, 
 And now you burn his son." 
 
 O then out spoke her, Lady Frendraught, 
 
 And loudly did she cry — 
 
 " It were great pity for good Lord John, 
 
 But none for Rothiemay. 
 
 But the keys are casten in the deep draw 
 
 well, 
 Ye cannot get away."^ 
 
 While he stood in this dreadful plight. 
 Most piteous to be seen, 
 There called out his servant Gordon, 
 As he had frantic been. 
 
 " O loup, O loup, my dear master, 
 O loup and come to me; 
 I'll catch you in my arms two, 
 One foot I will not flee. 
 
 XXII. 
 
170 
 
 " O lonp, O loup, my dear master, 
 
 loup and come away, 
 
 ril catch you in my arms two, 
 But Rothiemay may lie. 
 
 The fish shall never swim in the flood, 
 Nor corn grow through the clay. 
 Nor the fiercest fire that ever was kindled 
 Twin me and Rothiemay." 
 
 " But I cannot loup, I cannot come, 
 
 1 cannot win to thee ; 
 
 My head's fast in the wire window, 
 My feet burning from me. 
 
 " My eyes are seething in my head. 
 My flesh roasting also, 
 My bowels are boiling with my blood. 
 Is not that a woeful woe ? 
 
 " Take here the rings from my white fingers, 
 That are so long and small, 
 And give them to my Lady fair, 
 Where she sits in her hall. 
 
 '4' 
 
9 
 
 171 
 
 " So I cannot loup, I cannot come, 
 I cannot loup to thee — 
 My earthly part is all consumed, 
 My spirit but speaks to thee." 
 
 Wringing her hands, tearing her hair, 
 His Lady she was seen, 
 And thus addressed his servant Gordon 
 Where he stood on the green. 
 
 " O wae be to you, George Gordon, 
 An ill death may you die, 
 So safe and sound as you stand there, 
 And my Lord bereaved from me." 
 
 " I bad him loup, I bad him come, 
 I bad him loup to me, 
 I'd catch him in my arms two, 
 A foot I should not flee. 
 
 " He threw me the rings from his white fingers, 
 Which were so long and small. 
 To give to you his Lady fair. 
 Where you sat in your hall." 
 
172 
 
 Sophia Hay, Sophia Hay, 
 
 bonny Sophia was her name — 
 Her waiting maid put on her cloaths, 
 But I wat she tore them off again. 
 
 And aft she cried, " Ohon ! alas, alas, 
 A sair heart's ill to win ; 
 
 1 wan a sair heart when I married him, 
 And the day it's well return'd again." 
 
 ^ " The keys were casten in the deep draw well. 
 Ye cannot win away." 
 
 Mr. Finlay, after regretting that all his attempts to recover this Ballad 
 have proved iinsuccessful, gives, in the words of a correspondent, the 
 following particulars regai'ding it, which we subjoin as illustrative of 
 the lines above cited : — " A Lady, a near relation of mine, lived near 
 the spot in her youth for some time ; and remembers having heard the 
 old song mentioned by Ritson, but cannot repeat it. She says there 
 was a verse which stated, that the Lord and Lady locked the door of 
 the tower, and flung the keys into the draw well; and that, many years 
 ago, when the well was cleared out, this trachtion was corroborated by 
 their finding the keys — at least such was the report of the coimtry." 
 Preface to ScoUish Historical arid Romatitie Ballads, p. xxi. 
 
173 
 
 LORD INGRAM AND CHIEL WYEt. 
 
 This beautiful Ballad, which appeared in the " North Countrie Garland" 
 before referred to, was kindly communicated to us by the same Gentle- 
 man, who, from the circumstance of it retaining the word " bophevir," 
 conjectures that it may probably have had a French original. A Ballad 
 on a similar subject, and indeed nothing else than a different copy of 
 the present, has been published by Mr. Jamieson, in the second Volume 
 of his Ballads, from Mr. Herd's MSS. Mr. Jamieson's copy, however, 
 wants the catastrophe ; a deficiency now happily supplied by the pre- 
 sent perfect copy. 
 
 Lord Ingram and Chiel Wyet, 
 Was baith born in one bower; 
 Laid baith their hearts on one Ladj, 
 The less was their bonheur. 
 
 Chiel Wyet and Lord Ingram, 
 Was baith born in one hall ; 
 Laid baith their hearts on one Ladj^ 
 The worse did them befall. 
 
174 
 
 Lord Ingram woo'd her, Lady Maisery, 
 From father and from mother; 
 Lord Ingram woo'd her, Lady Maisery, 
 From sister and from brother. 
 
 Lord Ingram woo'd her, Lady Maisery, 
 With leave of a' her kin ; 
 And every one gave full consent, 
 But she said no to him. 
 
 Lord Ingram woo'd her, Lady Maisery, 
 Into her father's ha' ; 
 Chiel Wyet woo'd her. Lady Maisery, 
 Amang the sheets so sma'. 
 
 Now it fell out upon a day. 
 She was dressing her head, 
 That ben did come her father dear, 
 Wearing the gold so red. 
 
 " He said get up now, Lady Maisery, 
 Put on your wedding gown — 
 For Lord Ingram he will be here. 
 Your wedding must be done." 
 
175 
 
 " I'd rather be Chiel Wyefs wife, 
 The white fish for to kill, 
 Before I were Lord Ingram's wife, 
 To wear the silk so well. 
 
 " rd rather be Chiel Wyet's wife, 
 With him to beg my bread. 
 Before I were Lord's Ingram's wife, 
 To wear the gold so red. 
 
 " Where will I get a bonny boy, 
 Will win gold to his fee, 
 And will run unto Chiel Wyet's 
 With this letter from me?" 
 
 " O here I am," the boy says, 
 " And will win gold to my fee. 
 And carry away any letter 
 To Chiel Wyet from thee." 
 
 And when he found the bridges broke, 
 He bent his bow and swam ; 
 And when he found the grass growing, 
 He hastened and he ran. 
 
176 
 
 And when he came to Chiel Wyet's castle, 
 
 He did not knock nor call, 
 
 But set his bent bow to his breast, 
 
 And lightly leaped the wall ; 
 
 And ere the porter open'd the gate, 
 
 The boy was in the hall. 
 
 The first line he looked on, 
 
 A orrieved man was he — 
 
 The next line he looked on, 
 
 A tear blinded his ee — 
 
 Says — " I wonder what ails my one brother, 
 
 He'll not let my love be ! 
 
 " But I'll send to my brother's bridal, 
 
 The (reckon) shall be mine. 
 
 Full four and twenty buck and roe, 
 
 And ten tun of the wine, 
 
 And bid my love be blythe and glad> 
 
 And I will follow syne." 
 
 There was nqt g, groom about that castle, 
 But got a gown of green> 
 And all was blythe, and all was glad, 
 But Lady Maisery she was neen. 
 
177 
 
 There was no cook about that kitchen, 
 But got a gown of gray ; 
 And all was blythe and all was glad, 
 But Lady i\Iaisery was wae. 
 
 Between Mary kirk and that castle, 
 Was all spread ower with garl,i 
 To keep Lady Maisery and her maidens, 
 From tramping on the marl. 
 
 From Mary kirk and that castle, 
 
 Was spread a cloth of gold, 
 
 To keep Lady Maisery and her maidens. 
 
 From treading on the mold. 
 
 When mass was sung and bells was rung. 
 And all men bound for bed; 
 Then Lord Ingram and Lady Maisery, 
 In one bed they were laid. 
 
 When they were laid into their bed, 
 It was baith saft and warm ; 
 He laid his hand over her side. 
 Says — " I think you are with bairn !" 
 
 XXIII. z 
 
178 
 
 " I told you once, so did I twice, 
 When ye came me to woo, 
 That Chiel Wyet, your only brother, 
 One night lay in my bower. 
 
 " I told you twice, I told you thrice, 
 Ere ye came me to wed. 
 That Chiel Wyet, your one brother. 
 One night lay in my bed." 
 
 " O will you father your bairn on me, 
 And on no other man ? 
 And I'll give him to his dowry. 
 Full fifty ploughs of land." 
 
 " I will not father my bairn on you, 
 Nor on no wrongeous man, 
 Though ye would give him to his dowry 
 Five thousand ploughs of land." 
 
 Then up did stand him Chiel Wyet, 
 Shed by his yellow hair. 
 And gave Lord Ingram to the heart 
 A deep wound and a sair. 
 
179 
 
 Then up did start him Lord Ingram, 
 Shed by his yellow hair, 
 And gave Chiel Wyet to the heart, 
 A deep wound and a sair. 
 
 There was no pity for that two lords, 
 Where they were lying slain; 
 But all was for her, Lady Maisery, 
 In that bower she gaed brain. 
 
 There was no pity for that two lords. 
 When they were lying dead; 
 But all was for her, Lady Maisery, 
 In that bower she went mad. 
 
 Said — " Get to me a cloak of cloth, 
 A staff of good hard tree; 
 If I have been an evil woman, 
 I shall bes till I dee. 
 
 -to 
 
 " For a bit I'll beg for Chiel Wyet, 
 For Lord Ingram I'll beg three; 
 All for the good and honourable marriage 
 At Mary kirk he gave me." 
 
 1 Garl, so ^^Titten in Mr. Sharpe's MS. and probably an abbreviated 
 mode of pronouncing the word gravel. 
 
180 
 
 THE DOUGLAS TRAGEDY. 
 
 " The Ballad of The Douglas Tragedy is one of the few to which po- 
 pular tradition has ascribed complete locality. The farm of Blackhouse, 
 in Selkirkshire, is said to have been the scene of this melancholy event. 
 There are the remains of a very ancient tower, adjacent to the farm- 
 house, in a wild solitary glen, upon a torrent named Douglas Burn, 
 which joins the Yarrow after passing a craggy rock, called the Douglas 
 Craig. From this ancient tower. Lady Margaret is said to have been 
 carried by her lover. Seven large stones, erected upon the neighbour- 
 ing heights of Blackhouse, are shown as marking the spot where the 
 seven brothers were slain; and the Douglas Burn is averred to have 
 been the stream at which the lovers stopped to drink: so minute is 
 tradition in ascertaining the scene of a ti-agical tale, which, considering 
 the rude state of former times, had probably foundation in some real 
 event." — Border Minstrelsy, Vol. II. 
 
 The copy here followed is that given in the work from which the 
 above extract has been taken. Any recited copy that we have heard 
 has been incomplete, wanting not only the circumstance of the lovers 
 halting at the stream, but likewise that of their death and burial. Our 
 copy supplies these unimportant variations. 
 
 He has lookit over his left shoulder, 
 
 And through his bonnie bridle rein. 
 And he spy'd her father and her seven bold brethren. 
 
 Come riding down the glen. 
 
181 
 
 " O hold my horse. Lady Marg'ret," he said, 
 " O hold my horse by the bonnie bridle rein. 
 
 Till I fight your father and seven bold brethren, 
 As they come riding down the glen." 
 
 Some time she rade, and some time she gaed. 
 
 Till she that place did near ; 
 And there she spy'd her seven bold brethren slain, 
 
 And her father who loved her so dear. 
 
 " O hold your hand, sweet William," she said, 
 
 " Your bull baits are wondrous sair ; 
 Sweet-hearts I may get many a one. 
 
 But a father I will never get mair." 
 
 She has taken a napkin from off her neck. 
 
 That was of the cambrick so fine. 
 And aye as she wiped her father's bloody wounds. 
 
 The blood ran red as the wine. 
 
 Two stanzas are here omitted, in which Lord William offers her the 
 choice of returning to her mother, or of accompanying him; and the 
 Ballad concludes with this stanza, which is twice repeated in singing : — 
 
 He set her upon the milk-white steed. 
 
 Himself upon the brown; 
 He took a horn out of his pocket. 
 
 And they both went weeping along. 
 
182 
 
 " Rise up, rise up, now, Lord Douglas," she says, 
 "And put on your armour so bright; 
 
 Let it never be said, that a daughter of thine. 
 Was married to a lord under night. 
 
 " Rise up, rise up, my seven bold sons, 
 And put on your armour so bright; 
 
 And take better care of your youngest sister. 
 For your eldest's awa' the last night.*' 
 
 He's mounted her on a milk-white steed, 
 
 And himself on a dapple gray. 
 With a bugelet horn hung down by his side, 
 
 And lightly they rode away. 
 
 Lord William lookit o'er his left shoulder, 
 
 To see what he could see; 
 And there he spy'd her seven brethren bold, 
 
 Come riding over the lee. 
 
 " Light down, light down. Lady Marg'ret," he said, 
 
 " And hold my steed in your hand. 
 Until that against your seven brethren bold 
 
 And your father I make a stand." 
 
183 
 
 She held his steed in her milk-white hand, 
 
 And never shed one tear, 
 Until that she saw her seven brethren fa', 
 
 And her lather hard fighting, who lov'd her so 
 dear. 
 
 '' O hold your hand, Lord William !'* she said, 
 "For you strokes they are wondrous sair; 
 
 True lovers I can get many a ane, 
 But a father I can never get mair." 
 
 O she's ta'en out her handkerchief, 
 
 It was o' the holland sae fine. 
 And aye she dighted her father's bloody wounds, 
 
 That were redder than the wine. 
 
 « O chuse, O chuse. Lady Marg'ret," he said, 
 " O whether will ye gang or bide ?" 
 
 " I'll gang, I'll gang. Lord William,'* she said, 
 " For ye have left me no other guide." 
 
 He's lifted her on a milk-white steed, 
 
 And himself on a dapple gray, 
 With a bugelet horn hung down by his side, 
 
 And slowly they baith rade away. 
 
184 
 
 O they rade on, and on they rade, 
 
 And a' by the light of the moon, 
 Until they came to yon wan water, 
 
 And there they lighted down. 
 
 They lighted down to tak' a drink 
 
 Of the spring that ran so clear ; 
 And down the stream ran his gude heart's blood, 
 
 And sair she 'gan to fear. 
 
 " Hold up, hold up, Lord William,'* she says, 
 
 " For I fear that you are slain !" 
 " 'Tis naething but the shadow of my scarlet cloak, 
 
 Tliat shines in the water sae plain." 
 
 O they rade on, and on they rade. 
 And a' by the light of the moon, 
 
 Until they came to his mother's ha' door, 
 And there they lighted down. ; 
 
 " Get up, get up, Lady Mother," he says, 
 
 " Get up and let me in ! — 
 Get up, get up, Lady Mother," he says, 
 
 " For this night my fair Lady I've win. 
 
185 
 
 " O mak' my bed, Lady Mother," he says, 
 
 " O mak' it braid and deep ! 
 And lay Lady Marg'ret close at my back. 
 
 And the sounder I will sleep." 
 
 Lord William was dead lang ere midnight, 
 
 Lady Marg'ret lang ere day — 
 And all true lovers that go thegither, 
 
 May they have mair luck than they ! 
 
 Lord William was buried in St. Marie's kirk, 
 
 Lady Marg'ret in Marie's quire ; 
 Out o' the Lady's grave grew a bonny red rose, 
 
 And out o' the Knight's a brier. 
 
 'O 
 
 And they twa met, and they twa plet, 
 And fain they wad be near ; 
 
 And a' the warld might ken right weel 
 Thev were twa lovers dear. 
 
 But bye and rade the Black Doifglas, 
 And wow but he was rough ! 
 
 For he pulled up the bonny brier, 
 And flang'd it in St. Marie*s loch. 
 
 XXIV. 2 A 
 
186 
 
 WILLIAM AND MARJORIE. 
 
 Lady Marjorie, lady Marjorie, 
 
 Sat sewing her silken seam, 
 And by her came a pale, pale ghost 
 
 Wi' mony a sigh and mane. 
 
 " Are ye my father the king," she says, 
 " Or are ye my brither John ? 
 
 Or are ye my true love sweet William, 
 From England newly come ?" 
 
 " I'm not your father the king," he says, 
 " No, no, nor your brither John ; 
 
 But I'm your true love sweet William, 
 From England that's newly come." 
 
 " Have ye brought me any scarlets sae red, 
 
 Or any of the silks sae fine ; 
 Or have ye brought me any precious things 
 
 That merchants have for sale." 
 
187 
 
 " I have not brought you any scarlets sae red, 
 
 No, no, nor the silks sae fine ; 
 But I have brought you my winding-sheet 
 
 Ower many a rock and hill. 
 
 '' Lady Blarjorie, lady Marjorie ! 
 
 For faith and charitie, 
 Will ye gie to me my faith and troth 
 
 That I gave once to thee ?" 
 
 " your faith and troth I'll not gie to thee. 
 
 No, no, that will not I, 
 Until I get ae kiss of your ruby lips, 
 
 And in my arms you lye." 
 
 " My lips they are sae bitter," he says — 
 
 " My breath it is sae Strang ; 
 If you get ae kiss of my ruby lips, 
 
 Your days will not be lang. 
 
 " The cocks are crawing, Marjorie," he says- 
 " The cocks are crawing again ; 
 
 It's time the Dead should part the Quick — 
 Marjorie, I must be gane." 
 
188 
 
 She followed him high, — she followed him 
 low, 
 
 Till she came to yon churchyard green ; 
 And there the deep grave opened up, 
 
 And young William he lay down. 
 
 " Wliat three things are these, sweet William," 
 she says, 
 
 " That stand here at your head ?" 
 " O it's three maidens, Marjorie," he says, 
 
 " That I promised once to wed." 
 
 J) 
 
 " What three things are these, sweet William, 
 she says, 
 
 " That stand close at your side ?" 
 " O it*s three babes, Marjorie," he says, 
 
 " That these three maidens had." 
 
 " What three things are these, sweet William," 5 
 she says, i 
 
 " That lye close at your feet ?" 
 " O it's three hell-hounds, Maijorie," he says> 
 
 " That's waiting my soul to keep. 
 
 5> 
 
189 
 
 O she took up her white, white hand, 
 And she struck him on the breast ; 
 
 Saying — " Have there again your faith and 
 troth, 
 And I wish your saul gude rest." 
 
 THE BROOM BLOOMS BONNIE AND 
 SAYS IT IS FAIR. 
 
 The revolting nature of the subject of this ballad, might, in the opinion of 
 many readers, have been a sufficient reason for withholding its pubhcation ; 
 but, as tales of this kind abound in the traditionaiy poetry of Scotland, a 
 Collection, Uke the present, would have been incomplete, without at least 
 one solitary specimen. In its details, too, the Editor conceives it to be 
 less abhorrent than either the ballad of Lizie Wan,* or that of the Bonny 
 Hynd ;-\- he also preferred it to the fragment of another ballad, on a similar 
 subject, which, like the present, he obtained from recitation. The fragment 
 begins thus : — 
 
 " Lady Margaret sits in her bow window 
 Sewing her silken seam ; 
 
 She dropt her thimble at her toe, 
 Her scissars at her heel, 
 
 " Ancient and Modern Scottish Songs, Heroic Ballads, &c Edin. 1776, voL i. p. 83. 
 + Border Minstrelsy, fifth edition, vol. iii. p. 102. 
 
190 
 
 And she's awa to the merry green wood 
 To see the leaves grow gi-een;" 
 
 and in its principal features bears a strong resemblance to the Bonny Hynd . 
 With the exception of three verses, which appeared in Johnson's Musical 
 Museum, vol. v. p 474, under the title of " The._broom blooms bonny, the 
 broom blooms fair," the present ballad is for the first time printed. It is 
 evidently a composition of considerable antiquity ; and, in poetical merit, 
 it may stand a comparison with either of the ballads above referred to. 
 
 It is talked, it is talked, the warld all over, 
 The broom blooms bonnie and says it is fair, 
 
 That the king's dochter gaes wi' child to her brother, 
 And we'll never gang down to the broom onie 
 mair. 
 
 He's ta'en his sister down to her father's deer park, 
 
 The broom blooms bonnie and says it is fair, 
 Wi' his yew-tree bow and arrows fast slung at his 
 back. 
 And we'll never gang down to the broom onie 
 mair. 
 
 " O when that ye hear me gie a loud, loud cry, 
 The broom blooms bonnie and says it is fair. 
 
191 
 
 Shoot an arrow frae thy bow and there let me lye, 
 And we'll never gang down to the , broom onie 
 mair. 
 
 " And when that ye see I am lying cauld and dead, 
 The broom blooms bonnie and says it is fair. 
 
 Then ye'll put me in a grave wi a turf at my head, 
 And we'll never gang down to the broom onie 
 mair." 
 
 Now when he heard her gie a loud, loud cry, 
 The broom blooms bonnie and says it is fair. 
 
 His silver arrow frae his bow he suddenly let fly. 
 Now they'll never gang down to the broom onie 
 mair. 
 
 He has houkit a grave that was lang and was deep, 
 The broom blooms bonnie and says it is fair. 
 
 And he has buried his sister wi' her babie at her feet, 
 And they'll never gang down to the broom onie 
 mair. 
 
 And when he came hame to his father's court ha*, 
 The broom blooms bonnie and says it is fair, 
 
192 
 
 There was music and minstrels and dancing 'mang 
 them a*, 
 But they'll never gang down to the broom onie 
 mair. 
 
 " O Willie ! O Willie ! what makes thee in pain ?" 
 
 The broom blooms bonnie and says it is fair, 
 " I have lost a sheath and knife that I'll never see 
 
 ao-am 
 
 5 
 
 For we'll never gang down to the broom onie i 
 
 mair." 
 
 " There are ships o' your father's sailing on the sea, 
 
 The broom blooms bonnie and says it is fair, 
 That will bring as good a sheath and a knife unto 
 thee, 
 And we'll never gang down to the broom onie 
 mair." 
 
 " There are ships o' my father's sailing on the sea, 
 
 The broom blooms bonnie and says it is fair, 
 But sic a sheath and knife thev can never bring to 
 me ! 
 Now we'll never gang down to the broom onie 
 mair ! 
 
193 
 
 YOUNG JOHNSTONE. 
 
 For the first complete copy of this Ballad, the public is indebted to the 
 late ingenious Mr. Finlay of Glasgow, in whose collection it appeared, 
 prefaced with the following notice : — " A fragment of this fine old Ballad 
 has been repeatedly published under the title of ' The Cruel Knight.' The 
 present edition has been completed fi-om two recited copies. Young John- 
 stone's reason for being ' sae late a coming in,' has been suppressed, as 
 well as a concluding stanza of inferior merit, in which the catastrophe is 
 described in a manner quite satisfactory but not very poetical." 
 
 The present copy of this excellent Ballad was obtained from recitation ; 
 for a few verbal emendations recourse has been liad to Mr. Finlay's copy; 
 but those parts which that Gentleman's taste led him to reject, the Editor 
 of this compilation did not conceive himself warranted to suppress. Refine- 
 ment in matters of taste may be carried to a pernicious extreme ; and, in 
 an Editor of Ancient Poetry, top much delicacy in this respect may often 
 times be a very questionable virtue. 
 
 The reciters of old ballads frequently supply the best commentaries upon 
 them, when any obscurity or want of connection appears in the poetical 
 naiTative. This Ballad, as it stands, throws no light on young Johnstone's 
 motive for stabbing his lady; but the person from whose lips it was taken 
 down alleged, that the barbarous act was committed unwittingly througli 
 young Jolinstone's suddenly waking from sleep, and in that moment of 
 confusion and alarm, unhappily mistaking his mistress for one of his pur- 
 suers. It is not improbal)le but the Ballad may have had at one time a 
 XXV. 2 B 
 
194 
 
 stanza to the above effect, the substance of which is still remembered, 
 though the words in which it was couched have been forgotten. At all 
 events it is a more likely inference than that which Mr. Gilchrist has chosen 
 to draw from the same premises. — See a Collection of Ancient and Modern 
 Scottish Ballads, Tales, and Songs, with Explanatory Notes and Observa- 
 tions, by John Gilchrist, Vol. I. p. 185. Edin. 1815 
 
 Young Johnstone and the young CoPnel 
 
 Sat drinking at the wine ; 
 " O gin ye wad marry my sister, 
 
 It's I wad marry thine." 
 
 " I wadna marry your sister, 
 For a' your houses and land ; 
 
 But I'll keep her for my leman, 
 When I come o'er the strand. 
 
 " I wadna marry your sister, 
 
 For a* your gowd so gay ; 
 But I'll keep her for my leman, 
 
 When I come by the way." 
 
 Young Johnstone had a nut brown sword, 
 Hung low down by his gair, 
 
195 
 
 And he ritted^ it through the young Cornel , 
 That word he ne'er spak mair. 
 
 But he's awa' to his sister's bower, 
 
 He's tirled at the pin ; 
 " Whare hae ye been, my dear brither, 
 
 Sae late a coming in ?" 
 " I hae been at the school, sister. 
 
 Learning young clerks to sing." 
 
 ** I've dreamed a dreary dream this night, 
 
 1 wish it may be for good ; 
 They were seeking you with hawks and hounds. 
 
 And the young Col'nel was dead." 
 
 " Hawks and hounds they may seek me. 
 
 As I trow well they be; 
 For I have killed the young Col'nel, 
 
 And thy own true love was he." 
 
 " If ye hae killed the young Col'nel, 
 
 dule and wae is me; 
 But I wish ye may be hanged on a hie gallows, 
 
 And hae nae power to flee." 
 
196 
 
 And he's awa* to his true love's bower, 
 
 He's tirled at the pin; 
 " Whar hae ye been, my dear Johnstone, 
 
 Sae late a coming in ?" 
 " It's I hae been at the school," he says, 
 
 " Learning young clerks to sing." 
 
 " I have dreamed a dreary dream," she says, 
 
 " I wish it may be for good; 
 They were seeking you with hawks and hounds, 
 
 And the young Col'nel was dead." 
 
 " Hawks and hounds they may seek me. 
 
 As I trow well they be; 
 For I hae killed the young Col'nel, 
 
 And thy ae brother was he." 
 
 " If ye hae killed the young Col'nel, 
 
 O dule and wae is me; 
 But I care the less for the young Col'nel, 
 
 If thy ain body be free. 
 
 () 
 " Come in, come in, my dear Johnstone, 
 
 Come in and take a sleep ; 
 
197 
 
 And I will go to my casement, 
 And carefully I will thee keep." 
 
 He had not weel been in her bower door, 
 
 No not for half an hour, 
 When four and twenty belted knights, 
 
 Came riding to the bower. 
 
 " Well may you sit and see, Lady, 
 
 Well may you sit and say; 
 Did you not see a bloody squire 
 
 Come riding by this way ?'* 
 
 " What colour were his hawks?*' she says, 
 " What colour were his hounds ? 
 
 What colour was the gallant steed 
 That bore him from the bounds ?" 
 
 " Bloody, bloody were his hawks. 
 And bloody were his hounds; 
 
 But milk-white was the gallant steed 
 That bore him from the bounds. 
 
 " Yes, bloody, bloody were his hawks, 
 And bloody were his hounds ; 
 
198 
 
 And milk-white was the gallant steed, 
 That bore him from the bounds." 
 
 " Light down, light down now, gentlemen, 
 And take some bread and wine ; 
 
 And the steed be swift that he rides on, 
 He's past the brig o* Lyne." 
 
 " We thank you for your bread,fair Lady, 
 
 We thank you for your wine ; 
 But I wad gie thrice three thousand pound, 
 
 That bloody knight was ta'en." 
 
 " Lie still, lie still, my dear Johnstone, 
 
 Lie still and take a sleep ; 
 For thy enemies are past and gone. 
 
 And carefully I will thee keep.'* 
 
 But young Johnstone had a little wee sword, 
 
 Hung low down by his gair. 
 And he stabbed it in fair Annet's breast, 
 
 A deep wound and a sair. 
 
 ** What aileth thee now, dear Johnstone ? 
 What aileth thee at me ? 
 
 
199 
 
 Hast thou not got my father's gold 
 Bot and my mither's fee.** 
 
 " Now live, now live, my dear Ladye, 
 
 Now live but half an hour ; 
 And there's no a leech in a' Scotland, 
 
 But shall be in thy bower.'* 
 
 •' How can I live, how shall I live? 
 
 Young Johnstone, do not you see 
 The red, red drops o' my bonny heart's blood, 
 
 Rin trinkling down my knee? 
 
 " But take thy harp into thy hand, 
 
 And harp out owre yon plain, 
 And ne'er think mair on thy true love. 
 
 Than if she had never been." 
 
 He hadna weel been out o* the stable. 
 
 And on his saddle set, 
 Till four and twenty broad arrows 
 
 Were thrilling in his heart. 
 
200 
 
 J Ritted, thrust violently. In Sii* Tristrem it is used simply to cut. 
 Vide Fytte I. stanza xliv. In the copy obtained by the" Editor, the word 
 " ritted" did not occur, instead of which the woi'd " stabbed" was used. 
 The " nut brown sword " was also changed into " a little small sword." 
 
 EARL ROBERT 
 
 Is given from the recitation of an old woman, a native of Bonliillj in Dum- 
 bartonshii'e ; and it is one of the earliest songs she remembers of havhig 
 heard chaunted en the classic banks of the Water of Leven. The reader 
 will find another copy of the same Ballad, in the third volume of the Border 
 Minstrelsy, p. 59, entitled, " Prince Robert," which is stated to be taken 
 from the recitation of a Lady nearly related to the Editor of that valuable 
 publication. The variations between the two copies are not very many or 
 striking; but, such as they ai'e, they must be interesting to the lovers of 
 traditional literature. 
 
 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, &c. 
 
201 
 
 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 ; 
 
 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, 
 
 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 rock, 
 And bid my lady come ? 
 
 Its out then speaks a bonny boy, 
 
 To Earl Robert was something a kin ; 
 
 " Many a time have I run thy errand, 
 But this day with the tears I'll rin." 
 
 XXTI. 2 C 
 
202 
 
 when he cam to Sittingen*s rocks, 
 
 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 ; 
 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, 
 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. 
 
 But when she came to Earl Robert's bouir, 
 To the middle of a' the ha', 
 
208 
 
 There were bells a ringing and sheets do wn 
 hinging, 
 
 And ladies rnurning a'. 
 
 •' Tve come for none of his gold," she said , 
 
 " Nor none of his white monie ; 
 Excepting a ring of his smallest finger, 
 
 If that jou will grant me V* 
 
 " Thou'll no get none of his gold,'* she said, 
 
 " Nor none of his white monie ; 
 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. 
 
 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. 
 
204 
 
 And thir twa grew, and thir twa threw, 
 
 Till this twa craps drew near ; 
 So all the world may plainly see 
 That they lov'd each other dear.i 
 
 ^ This phenomenon is common to all ballads, in which two lovers 
 are buried near each other. Craps, the topmost twigs. 
 
 JOHNIE SCOT. 
 
 In preparing this ballad for the press, three recited copies, all obtain- 
 ed from people considerably advanced in years, have been used. The 
 ballad, itself, is popular in the Shires of Renfrew, Dumbarton, and Stir- 
 ling ; and though the Editor has obtained no copy of it from the south 
 of Scotland, yet, he has been assured that it is also well known there, 
 a fact of which there can be no doubt, as the border names of Scot and 
 Percy sufficiently identify it with that part of the country. 
 
 As is to be expected, in all poetry which depends on oral tradition 
 for its transmission to our own times, the copies of this ballad which the 
 Editor has recovered do not exactly correspond with each other. Nu- 
 merous, though on the whole but trivial, verbal discrepancies exist a- 
 
205 
 
 mong them ; and in adjusting the text, he had therefore to rely on his 
 own judgment in selecting, what he conceived, the best reading from 
 each of his copies. Injustice, however, to himself, and for the satisfac- 
 tion of the rigid antiquary, he begs leave explicitly to state, that not a 
 single word or expression has been admitted into the present text, but 
 what was duly authorised by one or other of these copies. A scrupulous 
 regard for historic truth hath ever led him to avoid the temptation of 
 embellishinor Traditionary Song. It were a thing devoutly to be wished 
 for, that all others who have gathered in the same vineyard could lay 
 their hands on their hearts, and make the like sincere and honest profes- 
 sion. But of this more anon. 
 
 With regard to the proper names in the ballad, considerable difficulty 
 was experienced. In the few notes subjoined, the principal variations 
 which occur in this particular, between the different copies, in so far as 
 relates to the minor personages of the drama, are pointed out ; but as to 
 the hero himself, it is right to mention in this place, that two of the co- 
 pies agree in styling him " Johnie Scot," while the third, names him 
 " Johnie M'Nauchton." In all other material points, none of the co- 
 pies essentially differ, except in this, that in the copy which o-ive 
 " M'Nauchton " as the hero, the champion with whom he measures 
 blades, does not enact that marvellous feat of agility which forms so 
 remarkable a feature in the combat scene between " Johnie Scot " and 
 the " Tailliant "— 
 
 Who like a Swallow swift, 
 
 Owre Johnie's head did flee — 
 but like an honest Swordsman contends manfully, yea, pertinaciously 
 for the victory, Avithout having recourse to any strange and curious de- 
 vice of fence. 
 
 Whether the glory of the high achievement recorded in the ballad 
 should of right belong to the name of Scot, or to that of M'Nauchton, is 
 a question very hard of solution. Scot, of Satchels, in that strangest of 
 all literary curiorities, his metrical " History of the Right Honourable 
 name of Scot," is dumb on the subject ; and Buchanan, in his account 
 of Scottish Sirnames, is as profoundly silent regarding any one belon^- 
 
206 
 
 ing to the ancient family of M'Nauchton, to whom the honoiu- of this 
 notable duel, can with any degree of likelihood be attributed. For his 
 own part, the Editor has been somewhat gravelled to make up his mind 
 on this momentous point ; but at length he has been inclined to con- 
 cede the adventure perilous, even to Johnie Scot, whoever he was, not 
 only on the account that two copies of the ballad, and these by far the 
 most perfect in their narrative, are quite unanimous on this head, but 
 that these likewise retain the word " Tailliant " which in the corres- 
 ponding part of the third copy is changed into " Champion." This word 
 Tailliant, he has never before met with in any ballad ; but it is an evi- 
 dent derivative from the French verb Taillader. 
 
 Mr. Ritson, in his Historical Dissertations on Scottish Song, gives in a 
 foot note, a list of certain unedited ballads, contained in a MS. collec- 
 tion which belonged to the late Lord Woodhouselee. In this hst oc- 
 curs one, entitled " Jack, the little Scot ;" and from the same critic, 
 mentioning that " many lines, and indeed stanzas" of " Gil Morris*" 
 would be found in said ballad, the Editor, both from the similarity of their 
 titles, and from their agreeing in the circumstance of having stanzas 
 in common with some in " Gil Morris," conjectured that it might 
 be probable, that " Jack, the little Scot," and the present ballad, were one 
 and the same. He accordingly endeavoured to procure a copy of the 
 ballad alluded to, for the purpose of collation, but hitherto without suc- 
 cess, as the MSS. of Lord Woodhouselee, wei-e, after his death, dispersed 
 among his relatives. 
 
 Perhaps, after all, it is but of little importance to ascertain this fact, 
 and even though the ballads were the same, it is questionable whether 
 it would suggest any substantial improvement upon the present text. 
 
 The only true and authentic edition of this ballad as preserved by tradition in Scot- 
 land, will be given in a future No. of this work. It will form rather a curious commen- 
 tary, on the mode in which our ancient Oral Song has been manufactured for the press by 
 " Ingenious Hands." A pack of Impudent, Dull-witted, Ignorant, Conceited, Trashy, 
 Poetasters and Forgers. 
 
207 
 
 As it is, " Johnie Scot" is altogether a very spirited and interesting 
 composition, highly national in its character, and full of bustle, action . 
 and incident. It is just such a one as we would always be glad to see 
 transferred to more imperishable records, than the decaying memories 
 of Ancient Women, and Time-crazed Men. 
 
 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, 
 
 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! 
 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, 
 
 And hunger her till she die." 
 
208 
 
 O Johnie's called his waiting man, 
 
 His name was Germanie ; 
 " Its thou must to fair England gae, 
 
 Bring me that gay ladie. 
 
 " 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, 
 
 He tirled at the pin ; 
 " O wha is there,'* said the proud porter, 
 
 " But I daurna let thee in ?" 
 
 Its he rode up, and he rode down, 
 
 He rode the castle about ; 
 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, 
 To Johnie Scot thy love." 
 
209 
 
 " The castle it is high m j boy, 
 
 And walled round about ; 
 My feet are in the fetters strong, 
 
 And how can I get out ? 
 
 " My garters are o' the gude black iron, 
 
 And oh but they be cold ; 
 My breast plate's o' the sturdy steel. 
 
 Instead of beaten gold. ^^ 
 
 " But had I paper, pen, and ink, 
 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 ; 
 
 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, 
 Till the saut tears did blind his ee. 
 
 XXVII. 2 D 
 
210 
 
 '* Oh I must up to England go, 
 
 Whatever me betide ; 
 For to relieve mine own fair ladie. 
 
 That lay last by my side.'* 
 
 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, 
 
 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 : 
 " 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, shined 
 
 Like the links o' yellow gold. 
 
211 
 
 Wlien they were all marching away, 
 
 Most pleasant for to see ; 
 Tliere was not so much as a married man, 
 
 In Johnie's companie. 
 
 Johnie Scot himsell was the foremast 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, 
 
 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 ; 
 
 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. 
 
 ■^-^ 
 
212 
 
 And when they came to Earl Percy's yates, 
 
 They rode them round about ; 
 And who saw he but his own true love, 
 
 At a window looking out ! 
 
 " Oh! the doors are bolted with iron and steel 
 
 So are the windows about ; 
 And my feet they are in fetters strong ; 
 
 And how can I get out ? 
 
 My garters they are of the lead, 
 
 And oh! but they be cold ; 
 My breast plate's of the hard, hard steel, 
 
 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. 
 
 " Art thou the King of Aulsberry, 
 Or art thou the King of Spain ? 
 
 Or art thou one of our gay Scots lords, 
 M'Nachtan be thy name ?" 
 
21S 
 
 " I'm not the King of Aulsberry, 
 
 Nor yet the King of Spain ; 
 But I 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 : 
 
 " 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, 
 
 " As I trew weel she be ; 
 ril 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 ; 
 To morrow again eight o'clock. 
 
 High hanged thou shalt be." 
 
214 
 
 Out and spoke Johnie's uncle then, 
 
 And he spak bitterlie : 
 
 " Before that we see fair Johnie hanged, 
 Well a' fight till we die.'* 
 
 " But is there ever a Tailliant about your court. 
 
 That will fight duels three ? 
 For before that I be hanged," Johnie said, 
 
 *' On the Tailliant's sword Fll die." 
 
 " Say on, say on,** said then the king, 
 
 " It is weel spoken of thee ; 
 For there is a Tailliant in my court. 
 
 Shall fight you three by three." 
 
 O some is to the good green wood. 
 
 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. 
 
215 
 
 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. 
 
 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 ; 
 
 When the Tailliant 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. 
 
 The Tailliant he slew out. 
 
 ** A priest, a priest,** fair Johnie cried, 
 ** To wed my love and me " 
 
216 
 
 ' A clerk, a clerk,** her father cried, 
 " To sum her tocher free." 
 
 " ril 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 IVe won her dear.** 
 
 He*s ta'en his true love by the hand, 
 
 , 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 ; 
 And Honour is into Scotland gone, 
 
 In spite of England's Skill. 
 
 He put his little horn to his mouth, 
 He blew it ower again ; 
 And aye the sound the horn cryed, 
 Was " Johnie and his men ! ** 
 
217 
 
 Gennanie. All the copies which mention Johnie's waiting man, con- 
 cur in giving this name, which is probably descriptive of his country. 
 In one copy, he, in place of Johnie's uncle, is the person who heroically 
 offers wager of battle. But in another copy, the whole words and actions 
 ascribed to Johnie's uncle, who " spak so bitterlie," are transferred to 
 '^' Gude King James." 
 
 Stanza 28. " Art thou the King of Aulsberry ?" &c. It may puz.. 
 zle the historian to give any account of this King's reign, or to fix the 
 limits of his dominions ; being associated, however, with the King of 
 Spain, this circumstance may afford some cue for obtaining information 
 on these important points. One copy of the ballad has, " Art thou the 
 Duke of Mulberry," another, " Art thou the Duke of York ;" but, for 
 the sake of Heraldic Justice, the present reading was preferred. This 
 stanza, [and that which precedes it, we give now as they occur in the 
 three different copies of the ballad recovered by the Editor, so that the 
 reader may have it in his power to choose the reading which hits his 
 fancy. 
 
 JOHNIE SCOT. 
 
 " Are you the Duke of York," he 
 said, 
 " Or James our;Scottish King ; 
 Or are you one of our Scottish 
 Loras, 
 From hunting new, come home ?" 
 
 " I'm not the Duke of York,'' he 
 said, 
 
 " Nor James your Scottish King; 
 But I'm one of the Scottish Lords, 
 
 Earl Hector is my name." 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 JOHNIE SCOT. 
 
 " Art tlicu the King of Aulsljerry, 
 Or art thou the King of Spain ; 
 
 Or art thou one of our gay Scots 
 Lords, 
 M'Nachton be thy nanaef'' 
 
 " I'm not the King of Aulsberry, 
 
 Nor yet the King of Spain j 
 But I am one of our gay Scots 
 Lords, 
 Johnie Scot I am called by 
 name." 
 
 JOHNIE M'NACHTON. 
 
 " Are you the Duke of Mulberry, 
 Or James our Scottish King ; 
 
 Are you the Duke of Mulberry, 
 From Scotland new come 
 home?" 
 
 " I'm not the Duke of Mulberry, 
 Nor James our Scottish King ; 
 
 But I am a true Scottishman, 
 M'Nachton is my name." 
 
 2e 
 
218 
 
 EARL RICHARD. 
 
 Is given from recitation. In the second volume of the Border Min- 
 strelsy, the reader will find two ballads on the same subject, the one 
 entitled, " Lord William," the other having the same name as the pre- 
 sent. 
 
 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 
 
 He tirled at the pin ; 
 And wha was sae ready as the lady hersell, 
 
 To open and let him in. 
 
219 
 
 " O light, O light, Earl Richard," she says, 
 
 " O light and stay a' night j 
 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 thee, 
 
 Is waiting at Richard's-wall." 
 
 He stooped from his milk white steed. 
 
 To kiss her rosy cheek ; 
 She had a pen-knife in her hand. 
 
 And wounded him so deep. 
 
 " O lie ye there. Earl Richard," she says, 
 
 " O lie ve there till morn ; 
 A fairer lady than ten of me, 
 
 Will think lang of your coming home." 
 
 She called her servants ane by ane. 
 
 She called them twa by twa j 
 *' I have got a dead man in my bower, 
 
 I wish he were awa." 
 
220 
 
 The ane has ta'en him by the hand, 
 
 And the other by the feet ; 
 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, 
 
 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 gi'e it unto thee." 
 
 " 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, 
 
 And a bow bent on a string ; 
 I'd shoot a dart at thy proud heart, 
 
 Among the leaves sae green." 
 
221 
 
 BONNIE SUSIE CLELAND. 
 
 (never before published.) 
 
 There lived a lady in Scotland, 
 
 Hey my love and ho my joy ; 
 There lived a lady in Scotland, 
 
 Who dearly loved me ; 
 There lived a lady in Scotland, 
 
 An' she's fan in love wi' an Englishman, 
 And bonnie Susie Cleland is to be burnt in 
 Dundee. 
 
 The father unto the daughter came. 
 
 Hey my love, &c. 
 The father unto the daughter came, 
 
 Who dearly, &c. 
 The father unto the daughter came, 
 
 Saying, will you forsake that Englishman, 
 And bonnie Susie Cleland is to be burnt in 
 Dundee ! 
 
222 
 
 If you will not that Englishman forsake, 
 
 Hej my love, &c. ; 
 If you will not that Englishman ibrsake, 
 
 Wlio dearly loved, &c. ; 
 If you will not that Englishman forsake, 
 
 O I will burn you at a stake, 
 And bonnie, &c. 
 
 I will not that Englishman forsake, 
 
 Hey any love, &c. ; 
 I will not that Englishman forsake. 
 
 Who dearly, &c. ; 
 I will not that Englishman forsake. 
 
 Though you should burn me at a stake. 
 And bonnie, &c. 
 
 O where will I get a pretty little boy, 
 
 Hey my love, &c. ; 
 O where will I get a pretty little boy, 
 
 Who dearly loves me, 
 O where will I get a pretty little boy ; 
 
 Who will carry tidings to my joy, 
 And bonnie, &c. 
 
 .^ 
 
223 
 
 Here am I a pretty little boy, 
 
 Hey my love, &c. ; 
 Here am I a pretty little boy, 
 
 Who dearly loves thee ; 
 Here am I a pretty little boy, 
 
 Who will carry tidings to thy joy, 
 And bonnie, &c. 
 
 Give to him this right hand glove, 
 
 Hey my love, &c. ; 
 Give to him this right hand glove, 
 
 WTio dearly loved me ; 
 Give to him this right hand glove, 
 
 Tell him to get another love, 
 For bonnie, &c. 
 
 Give to him this little pen-knife. 
 
 Hey my love, &c. 5 
 Give to him this little pen-knife. 
 
 Who dearly, &c. ; 
 Give to him this little pen-knife, 
 
 Tell him to get another wife. 
 For bonny, &c. 
 
 •N. 
 
224 
 
 Give to him this gay gold ring, 
 
 Hey my love, &c. ; 
 Give to him this gay gold ring, 
 
 Who dearly, &c. ; 
 Give to him this gay gold ring. 
 
 Tell him I'm going to my burning, 
 And bonnie, &c. 
 
 Her father he ca d up the stake, 
 
 Hey my love, &c. ; 
 Her father he ca'd up the stake, 
 
 Who dearly, &c. ; 
 Her father he ca'd up the stake, 
 
 Her brother he the fire did make. 
 And bonnie Susie Cleland was burnt in Dun- 
 dee. 
 
225 
 
 CATHERINE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 Of this ballad, two versions have already been published, one in the 
 Border Minstrelsy, the other, in " A North Countrie Gai-land." The 
 present copy was obtained from recitation, in the West of Scotland, and 
 is now given as exhibiting the state in which this popular ballad is there 
 preserved. The 10th Stanza seems to contain an allusion to the Knights 
 of the Round Table. 
 
 There was a lass as I heard saj, 
 Liv'd low doun in a glen ; 
 
 Her name was Catherine Johnston, 
 Weel known to many men. 
 
 Doun came the laird o' Lamington, 
 Doun from the south countrie ; 
 
 And he is for this bonnie lass, 
 Her bridegroom for to be. 
 
 XXIX. 2 F 
 
226 
 
 He's ask'd her father and mother, 
 
 The chief of a' her kin ; 
 And then he ask'd the bonnie lass, 
 
 And did her favour win. 
 
 Doun came an EngUsh gentleman, 
 Doun from the English border ; 
 
 He is for this bonnie lass, 
 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. 
 
 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. 
 He was baith glad and fain, 
 
 But or he read the letter o'er, 
 He was baith pale and wan. 
 
227 
 
 Then he has sent a messenger, 
 
 And out through all his land ; 
 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, 
 
 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. 
 
 They rose all to honour him, 
 
 For he was of high renown ; 
 Thev rose all for to welcome him, 
 
 And bade him to sit down. 
 
 O meikle was the good red wine. 
 
 In silver cups did flow ; 
 But aye she drank to Lamington, 
 
 For with him would she go. 
 
228 
 
 O meikle was the good red wine, 
 
 In silver cups gaed round ; 
 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, 
 
 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, 
 
 ril mount and go away." 
 
 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 her. 
 Was, " Mount and come away?" 
 
 Its up .the Couden bank, 
 And doun the Couden brae ; 
 
 
229 
 
 And aye she made the trumpet sound, 
 It's a weel won play. 
 
 O meikle was the blood was shed, 
 
 Upon the Couden brae ; 
 And aye she made the trumpet sound, 
 
 Its a* fair play. 
 
 Come a' ye English gentlemen, 
 
 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 ; 
 And they'll dress you frogs instead of fish. 
 
 Just on your wedding day. 
 
230 
 
 THE WEARY COBLE O' CARGILL. 
 
 (never before published.) 
 
 This local ballad which commemorates some real event, is given from 
 the recitation of an old woman, residing in the neighbourhood of Cam- 
 bus 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 re-cross the Tay to Stobhall. 
 
 David Drummond's destinie, 
 
 Gude man o' appearance o* Cargill ; 
 I wat his blude rins in the flude, 
 
 Sae sair against his parents' will. 
 
231 
 
 She was the lass o' Balathy toun, 
 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 glide clean sheets and of the hay ; 
 
 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, 
 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. 
 
 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. 
 
282 
 
 " Woe be to the lass o' Balathy toiin, 
 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 !" 
 
 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, 
 
 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 lads' corpse, 
 In the kirk shot o' bonnie Cargill. 
 
 Oh 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. 
 
233 
 
 A braver page into his age, 
 
 Ne'er set a foot upon the plain ; 
 
 His father to his mother said, 
 
 *' Oh sae sune as we've wanted him ! 
 
 " I wat they had mair hive than this, 
 
 When they were young and at the scule ; 
 
 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 licht, 
 Shall shine in my bower for ever mair. 
 
 " At kirk nor market Ise ne'er be at. 
 Nor yet a blythe bhnk in my ee ; 
 
 There's ne'er a ane shall say to anither, 
 
 That's the lassie gar'd the young man die." 
 
 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. 
 
 XXX. 2 G 
 
234 
 
 LADY MARJORIE 
 
 Is apparently a cUfFerent version of " Lady Maisry/' published by 
 Mr. Jamieson in his collection^ and which has likewise been iAserted in 
 a preceding part of this compilation. As the present version, however, 
 possesses considerable merit, it has also been considered worthy of a 
 place here. It is given from the recitation of an old woman in Kil- 
 barchan, Renfrewshire, from whom the Editor has obtained several 
 valuable pieces of a like nature. In singing, O is added at the end of 
 the 2d and 4th line of each stanza. 
 
 Lady Marjorie was her mother's only daughter, 
 
 Her father's only heir ; 
 And she is awa to Strawberry Castle, 
 
 To get some unco lair. 
 
 She had na been in Strawberry Castle, 
 
 A twelvemonth and a day ; 
 Till lady Marjorie she gangs big wi' child, 
 
 As big as she can gae. 
 
235 
 
 Word is to her father gane, 
 
 Before he got on his shoon j 
 That lady Marjorie she gaes wi* child, 
 
 And it is to an Irish groom. 
 
 But word is to her mother gone, 
 
 Before she got on her goun ; 
 That lady Marjorie she gaes wi* child, 
 
 To a lord of high renown. 
 
 ** O wha will put on the pat," they said, 
 
 " Or wha will put on the pan ; 
 Or wha will put on a bauld, bauld fire, 
 
 To burn lady Marjorie in ?" 
 
 Her father he put on the pat 
 
 Her sister put on the pan ; 
 And her brother he put on a bauld, bauld fire. 
 
 To burn lady Marjorie in ; 
 And her mother she sat in a golden chair, 
 
 To see her daughter burn. 
 
 *&' 
 
 " But where will I get a pretty little boy, 
 That will win hose and shoon ; 
 
236 
 
 That will go quickly to Strawberry Castle, 
 And bid my lord come doun." 
 
 " O here am I a pretty little boy, 
 That will win hose and shoon ; 
 
 That will rin quickly to Strawberry Castle, 
 And bid thy lord come doun." 
 
 O when he cam to broken brigs, 
 
 He bent his bow and swam ; 
 And when he cam to gude dry land, 
 
 He set doun his foot and ran. 
 
 A\Tien he cam to Strawberry Castle, 
 
 He tirled at the pin ; 
 Nane was sae ready as the gay lord himsell. 
 
 To open and let him in. 
 
 " Oh is there any of ray towers burnt, 
 
 Or any of my castles won ; 
 Or is lady Marjorie brought to bed, 
 
 Of a daughter or a son ?" 
 
 " O there is nane of thy towers burnt, 
 Nor nane of thy Castles broken ; 
 
237 
 
 But lady Marjorie is condemned to die, 
 To be burnt in a fire of oaken." 
 
 " O gar saddle to me the black," he says, 
 " Gar saddle to me the broun ; 
 
 Gar saddle to me the swiftest steed, 
 That e'er carried a man frae toun ! " 
 
 He left the black into the slap, 
 
 The broun into the brae ; 
 But fair fa' that bonnie apple-gray, 
 
 That carried this gay lord away ! 
 
 " Beet on, beet on, my brother dear, 
 
 I value you not one straw ; 
 For yonder comes my ain true luve, 
 
 I hear his horn blaw. 
 
 " Beet on, beet on, my father dear, 
 
 I value you not a pin ; 
 For yonder comes my ain true luve, 
 
 I hear his bridle ring." 
 
 He took a little horn out of his pocket, 
 And he blew't baith loud and schill ; 
 
238 
 
 And wi' the little life that was in her, 
 She hearken'd to it full weel. 
 
 But when he came into the place, 
 
 He lap unto the wa' 
 He thought to get a kiss o' her bonnie lips, 
 
 But her body fell in twa ! 
 
 '' Oh vow ! Oh vow ! Oh vow !'* he said, 
 " Oh vow ! but ye've been cruel ; 
 
 Ye've taken the timber out of my ain wood, 
 And burnt my ain dear jewel ! 
 
 " Now for thy sake, lady Marjorie, 
 ril burn baith father and mother ; 
 
 And for thy sake, lady Marjorie, 
 ril burn baith sister and brother. 
 
 ** And for thy sake, lady Marjorie, 
 
 I'll burn baith kith and kin ; 
 But I'll aye remember the pretty little boy, 
 
 That did thy errand rin." 
 
239 
 
 ANDREW LAMjMIE. 
 
 The ill-starved loves of Tifties honnie Annie, and the Trumpeter of 
 Fyvie, have already been made familiar to the reader of Ballad poetry, 
 by Mr, Jamieson, who has published in his collection, two different sets 
 of this simple, but not unpathetic ditty.* Neither of these sets, how- 
 ever, is so complete as the present version, which is a reprint from a 
 stall copy, published at GlasgoAv several years ago, collated with a re- 
 cited copy, which has furnished one or two verbal improvements. 
 
 " The beauty, gallantry, and amiable qualities of ' Bonny Andrew 
 Lammie,' seem," says Mr. Jamieson, " to have been proverbial where- 
 ever he went, and the good old cummer in Allan Ramsay, as the best 
 evidence of the power of her own youthful charms, and the best apology 
 for her having cast a leggen girth hersel, says, 
 
 ' Fse warrant ye have a' heard tell. 
 
 Of bonny Andrew Lammie ? 
 StiflSy in luve wi' me he fell. 
 
 As soon as e'er he saw me — 
 That was a day ! ' 
 
 " In this instance, as in most others, in the same piece, it seems most 
 probable, that Allan Ramsay forgot that he was writing of the days of 
 the original author of ' Christis kirk on the Green,' and copied only the 
 
 * Vide Popular Ballads and Song«, Edinburgh, 1806, vol. I. p. 129, and vol. II. p. 
 382. 
 
240 
 
 manners and traditions of his own times. If a woman, who could boast 
 of having had an intrigue with the Trumpeter of Fi/ vie, was hale and 
 hearty at the time, when Allan wrote, we may reasonably suppose poor 
 Tifty's Nanny, to have died sometime about the year 1 670-" This con- 
 jecture, as to the period, when 
 
 " The fairest Flower was cut down by love, 
 That e'er sprung up in Fyvie," 
 
 is very near the truth, if the notice, contained in the title of the stall 
 copy referred to, can be admitted as evidence on the point. It is this -. 
 " Andrew Lammie : or Mill o' Tiftie's Annie. This Tragedy was acted 
 in the year, 1674." 
 
 It has been remarked by Mr. Jamieson, that " this ballad is almost 
 entirely without rhjTues ; as cadence in the measure, is all that seems 
 aimed at, and the few instances of rhyme that occur, appear to be rather 
 casual than intentional." Though the present set is not so faulty in 
 this respect, as in the copies which came under Mr. Jamieson's observa- 
 tion, it, as well as the others, has another peculiarity deserving attention, 
 namely, the studied recurrence of rhyme, in the middle of the 1st and 
 3d lines of a great many of the stanzas. 
 
 It may be stated, that the present set of the ballad agrees with any 
 recited copy which the Editor has hitherto met with in the \Ve«t Coun- 
 try. 
 
 At Mill o' Tifty liv'd a man, 
 In the neicjhbourhood of Fwie : 
 
 He had a lovely daughter fair, 
 Was called bonny Annie. 
 
241 
 
 Her bloom was like the springing flower, 
 That salutes the rosy morning ; 
 
 With innocence, and graceful mein, 
 Her beauteous form adorning. 
 
 Lord Fyvie had a Trumpeter, 
 
 Whose name was Andrew Lammie ; 
 
 He had the art to gain the heart, 
 Of Mill o' Tiftie's Annie. >r • - 
 
 Proper he was, both young and gay, 
 His like was not in Fyviej,^ i^^,.^ 
 
 No one was there that could compare, 
 With this same Andrew Lammie. 
 
 Lord Fyvie he rode by the door, 
 Where lived Tiftie's Annie ; 
 
 His Trumpeter rode him before, 
 Even this same Andrew Lammie. 
 
 Her mother call'd her to the door, 
 " Come here to me my Annie ; 
 
 Did you ever. see a prettier man, 
 Than this Trumpeter of Fyvie /" 
 
 XXXI. 2 H 
 
242 
 
 She sighed sore but said no more, 
 
 Alas ! for bonny Annie ; 
 She durst not own her heart was won, 
 
 By the Trumpeter of Fyvie. 
 
 At night when they went to their beds, 
 All slept full sound but Annie ; 
 
 Love so opprest her tender breast, 
 Thinking on Andrew Lammie. 
 
 " Love comes in at my bed side, 
 And love lies down beyond me ; 
 
 Love has possess'd my tender breast, 
 And love will waste my body. 
 
 " The first time I and my love met, 
 Was in the woods of Fyvie ; 
 
 His lovely form and speech so sweet. 
 Soon gain'd the heart of Annie. 
 
 " He caird me mistress, I said. No, 
 
 I'm Tiftie's bonny Annie ; 
 With apples sweet, he did me treat, 
 
 And kisses soft and many. 
 
243 
 
 " Its up and down in Tiftie's den, 
 
 Wliere the burn runs clear and bonny, 
 
 IVe often gone to meet my love, 
 My bonny Andrew Lammie." 
 
 But now, alas ! her father heard. 
 That the Trumpeter of Fyvie, 
 
 Had had the art to gain the heart, 
 Of Tiftie's bonny Annie. 
 
 Her father soon a letter wrote, 
 
 And sent it on to Fyvie, 
 To tell his daughter was bewitch'd, ^' 
 
 By his servant Andrew Lammie. 
 
 When Lord Fyvie had this letter read, 
 
 O dear ! but he was sorry ; 
 The bonniest Lass in Fyvie's land. 
 
 Is bewitched by Andrew Lammie. 
 
 Then up the stair his Trumpeter, 
 
 He called soon and shortly ; 
 " Pray tell me soon. What's this you've done, 
 
 To Tiftie's bonny Annie ?" 
 
344 
 
 " In wicked art I had no part, 
 
 Nor therein am I canny ; 
 True love alone the heart has won, 
 
 Of Tiftie's bonny Annie. 
 
 " Woe betide Mill o' Tiftie's pride, 
 
 For it has ruin'd many ; 
 He'll no ha'e't said that she should wed. 
 
 The Trumpeter of Fyvie. 
 
 " Where will I find a boy so kind, 
 That '11 carry a letter canny. 
 
 Who will run on to Tiftie's town. 
 Give it to my love Annie ?" 
 
 " Here you shall find a boy so kind, 
 Who '11 carry a letter canny ; 
 
 Who will run oh to Tiftie's town, 
 And gi'e't to thy love Annie." 
 
 " Its Tiftie he has daughters three, 
 Who all are wondrous bonny ; 
 
 But ye'll k^n her o'ei: a' the hxei, 
 
 (jri e that to boni^j^ Aniiie.''; /ofjifi^ , 
 
245 
 
 " Its up and down in Tiftie's den, 
 
 Where the burn runs clear and bonny ; 
 
 lliere wilt thou come and meet thy love, 
 Thy bonny Andrew Lammie. 
 
 " When wilt thou come, and I'll attend, 
 
 My love I long to see thee ?" 
 " Thou may'st come to the Bridge of Sleugh, 
 
 And there I'll come and meet thee. 
 
 " My love, I go to Edinbro', 
 
 And for a while must leave thee ;" 
 
 She sighed sore, and said no more, 
 " But I wish that I were wi' thee." 
 
 «' I'll buy to thee a bridal gown, 
 My love I'll buy it bonny ;" 
 
 But I'll be dead ere ye come back, 
 To see your bonnie Annie. 
 
 " If you'll be true and constant too. 
 As my name's Andrew Lammie ; 
 
 I shall thee wed when I come back 
 To see the lands of Fyvie." 
 
246 
 
 " I will be true and constant too, 
 To thee my Andrew Laramie, 
 
 But my bridal bed will ere then be made, 
 In the green church yard of Fyvie." 
 
 " Our time is gone and now comes on, 
 My dear, that I must leave thee ; 
 
 If longer here I should appear. 
 Mill o' Tiftie he would see me." 
 
 " I now for ever bid adieu, 
 
 To thee my Andrew Lammie ; 
 
 Ere ye come back, I will be laid, 
 In the green church yard of Fyvie." 
 
 He hied him to the head of the house, 
 
 To the house top of Fyvie ; 
 He blew his trumpet loud and schill, 
 
 'Twas heard at Mill o' Tiftie. 
 
 Her father lock'd the door at night, 
 Laid by the keys fu' canny ; 
 
 And when he heard the trumpet sound, 
 Said, " Your cow is lowing, Annie-" 
 
247 
 
 " My father deai^, I pray forbear, 
 And reproach no more your Annie ; 
 
 For I'd rather hear that cow to low, 
 Than ha'e a' the kine in Fyvie. 
 
 " I would not for my braw new gown, 
 And a' your gifts sae many ; 
 
 That it were told in Fyvie' s land. 
 How cruel you are to Annie. 
 
 " But if ye strike me I will cry, 
 And gentlemen will hear me ; 
 
 Lord Fyvie will be riding by, 
 And he'll come in and see me. 
 
 >5 
 
 At the same time, the Lord came in, 
 He said, " What ails thee Annie?" 
 
 " 'Tis all for love now I must die. 
 For bonny Andrew Lammie." 
 
 " Pray Mill o' Tifty gi'e consent. 
 And let your daughter marry." 
 
 " It will be with some higher match, 
 Than the Trumpeter of Fyvie." 
 
42a 
 
 " If she were come of as high a kind, 
 • ji As she's adorned with beauty ; 
 I would take her unto myself, 
 And make her mine own lady." 
 
 ^t* Its Fyvie's lands are fair and wide, 
 And they are rich and bonny ; 
 
 I would not leave my own true love, 
 For all the lands of Fy vie." 
 
 Her father struck her wondrous sore, 
 
 As also did her mother ; 
 Her sisters always did her scorn ; 
 
 But woe be to her brother. 
 
 Her brother struck her wondrous sore. 
 With cruel strokes and many ; 
 
 He brake her back in the hall door, 
 For liking Andrew Lammie. 
 
 " Alas ! my father and mother dear, 
 Why so cruel to your Annie ? 
 
 My heart was broken first by love, 
 My brother has broken my body," 
 
249 
 
 " O mother dear, make ye my bed, 
 
 And lay my face to Fyvie ; 
 Thus will I ly, and thus will die, 
 
 For my love Andrew Lammie ! 
 
 " Ye neighbours hear both far and near, 
 
 Ye pity Tittle's Annie ; 
 Who dies for love of one poor lad, 
 
 For bonny Andrew Lammie. 
 
 " No kind of vice e'er stain'd my life, 
 Nor hurt my virgin honour ; 
 
 My vouthful heart was won by love. 
 But death will me exoner." 
 
 Her mother then she made her bed, 
 And laid her face to Fyvie ; 
 
 Her tender heart it soon did break, 
 And ne'er saw Andrew Lammie. 
 
 But the word soon went up and down, 
 Through all the lands of Fyvie ; 
 
 That she was dead and buried, 
 Even Tiftie's bonny Annie. 
 
 XXXII. 2 I 
 
^50 
 
 Lord Fyvie he did wring his hands. 
 Said, " Alas ! for Tiftie's Annie , 
 
 The fairest Flower's cut down by love. 
 That e'er sprung up in Fyvie. 
 
 " O woe betide Mill o' Tiftie's pride, 
 He might have let them marry ; 
 
 I should have giv'n them both to live, 
 Into the lands of Fyvie." 
 
 Her father sorely now laments, 
 
 The loss of his dear Annie ; 
 And wishes he had gi'en consent, 
 
 To wed with Andrew Lammie. 
 
 Her mother grieves both air and late. 
 Her sister's cause they scorn'd her ; 
 
 Surely her brother doth mourn and grieve, 
 For the cruel usage he'd giv'n her. 
 
 But now, alas ! it was too late. 
 
 For thev could not recal her ; 
 Through life, unhappy is their fate. 
 
 Because they did controul her. 
 
251 
 
 \Vhen Andrew hame from Edinburgh came, 
 
 With meikle grief and sorrow ; 
 " My love has died for me to-day, 
 
 ril die for her to-morrow. 
 
 " Xow I will on to Tiftie's den, 
 
 Where .the burn runs clear and bonnv ; 
 
 With tears I'll view the bridge of Sleugh, (i) 
 Where I parted last with Annie. 
 
 " Then will I speed to the churchyard, 
 To the green churchyard of Fyvie ; 
 
 With tears Til water my love's grave, 
 Till I follow Tiftie's Annie.' 
 
 ?? 
 
 Ye parents grave, who children have, 
 In crushing them be cannv ; 
 
 Lest when too late you do repent, 
 Remember Tiftie's Annie. 
 
 (1 ) 111 one printed copy, tliia is " Sheugh," and in a recited copy, it was 
 called " Skew ;" which is the right reading, the editor, from his ignorance 
 of the topography of the lands of Fy^'ie, is unahle to say. It is a received 
 superstition in Scotland, that when friends or lovers part at a bridge, they 
 shall never aeain meet. 
 
252 
 
 THE DOWIE DOWNS 0' YARROW. 
 
 Of this ballad, '' a collated edition," selected from various copies, pro- 
 fessedly for the pui-pose of suiting the taste of " these more light and 
 giddy paced times, " first appeared in the " Minstrelsy of the Scottish 
 Border," under the title of " The Dowie Dens of Yarrow." The pre- 
 sent version, taken from the recitation of an old Woman in Kilbarchan, 
 though containing some additional incidents, not to be found in the copy 
 published in the Border Minstrelsy, is chiefly valuable as showing the state 
 in which the song is preserved in the west of Scotland. For au account 
 of the supposed hero, and of the traditions connected with the ballad, 
 the Reader is referred to the valuable and interesting work already al- 
 luded to. 
 
 There were three lords birHng at the wine, 
 On the Dowie Dens o' Yarrow, 
 
 They made a compact them between 
 They would go fecht to-morrow. 
 
 " Thou took our sister to be thv wife, 
 And thou ne'er thocht her thy marrow, 
 
 Thou stealed her frae her Daddy's back, 
 When she was the Rose o' Yarrow." 
 
253 
 
 a 
 
 Yes, I took your sister to be my wife, 
 And I made her my marrow ; 
 ] stealed her frae her Daddy's back, 
 And she's still the Rose o' Yarrow." 
 
 He is hame to his lady gane, 
 
 As he had done before, O ; 
 Says, " Madam I must go and fecht, 
 
 On the Dowie Downs o* Yarrow." 
 
 " Stay at hame, my lord," she said, 
 *' For that will breed much sorrow. 
 
 For my three brethren will slay thee, 
 On the Dowie Downs o' Yarrow." 
 
 " Hold your tongue my lady fair. 
 
 For what needs a' this sorrow, 
 For I'll be hame gin' the clok strickes nine, 
 
 From the Dowie Downs o' Yarrow." 
 
 He wush his face and she combed his hair, 
 
 As she had done before, O ; 
 She dressed him up in his armour clear. 
 
 Sent him forth to fecht on Yarrow. 
 
254 
 
 " Come ye here to hawk or hound, 
 Or drink the wine that's sae clear, O ; 
 
 Or come ye here to eat in your words, 
 That you're not the Rose o' Yarrow ? " 
 
 " I came not here to hawk or hound. 
 
 Nor to drink the wine that's sae clear, O ; 
 
 Nor I cam' not here to eat in my words. 
 For I'm still the Rose o' Yarrow." 
 
 Then they all begoud to fecht, 
 I wad they focht richt sore, O ; 
 
 Till a cowardly man cam behind his back, 
 And pierced his body thorough. 
 
 " Gae hame, gae hame, its my man John, 
 
 As ye have done before, O ; 
 And tell it to my gay ladye, 
 
 That I soundly sleep on Yarrow." 
 
 His man John, he has gane hame. 
 
 As he had done before, O ; h 
 And told it to his gay ladye 
 
 That he soundly slept on Yarrow. 
 
255 
 
 " I dream'd a dream now since the 'streen, 
 
 God keep us a frae sorrow ; 
 That my lord and I was pu'ing the heather green, 
 
 From the dowie downs o' Yarrow." 
 
 Somethnes she rade, sometimes she gade, 
 
 As she had done before, O; 
 And ave between she fell in a swoon 
 
 Lang or she cam to Yarrow. 
 
 Her hair it was five quarters lang, 
 
 'Twas like the gold for yellow ; 
 She twisted it round his milk white hand, 
 
 And she's drawn him hame frae Yarrow. 
 
 Out and spak her father dear, 
 
 Says, " What needs a' this sorrow. 
 
 For I'll get you a far better lord, 
 Than ever died on Yarrow.' 
 
 )> 
 
 " O hold your tongue, father," she said, 
 " For you've bred a' my sorrow ; 
 
 For that Rose '11 ne'er spring so sweet in May, 
 As that Rose I lost on Yarrow ! " 
 
 f' 
 
256 
 THE QUEEN OF MAY, HER SOXG. 
 
 In the quiet and solemn night, , 
 When the moon is silvery bright, 
 Then the scritch owl's eerie c|y, *• 
 Mocks the beauties of the sky| 
 
 Tu whit tu whoo ! 
 
 Its wild halloo ' 
 
 Doth read a drowsy homily. 
 
 From yon old castle's chimneys'^tall, 
 The bat on leathern sail doth fall, 
 In wanton-wise to skim the earth, { 
 And flout the mouse that gave it Uirth. 
 
 Tu whit tu whoo ! * \ 
 
 That wild halloo 
 Hath marr'd the little monsters mirth. 
 
 Fond lovers seek the dewy vale, ; 
 That swimmeth in the moonshine pale, 
 But maids beware, when in your ear 
 The scritch owl screams so loud and clear, 
 
 Tu whit tu who ! 
 
 Its wild halloo 
 Doth speak of danger lurking near. 
 
257 
 
 It bids beware of murmur'd sigh, 
 Of air-spun oath and wistful eye, 
 Of star that winks to conscious flower, 
 Thorouo'h the roof of leaf-clad bower. 
 Tu whit tu whoo ! 
 
 That wild halloo 
 Bids startled virtue own its power ! 
 
 CHILD NORICE, &c. 
 
 Of the many ancient ballads which have been preserved by tradi- 
 tion among the Peasantry of Scotland, none has excited more inter- 
 est in the world of letters, than the beautiful and pathetic tale of 
 " Gil Morice ;" and this, no less on account of its own intrinsic me- 
 rits as a piece of exquisite poetry, than of its having furnished the plot 
 of the justly celebrated tragedy of Douglas.* It has likewise supplied 
 Mr Langhorne with the principal materials from wiiich he has woven 
 the fabric of his sweet, though prolix poem of " Owen of Carron ;" 
 and Mr Jamieson mentions that it has also been " made the subject of 
 
 • " When this tragedy was originally produced at Edinburgh in 1756, the title of the 
 heroine was Lady Barnard : the alteration to Lady Randolph was made on its being 
 transplanted to London." It was acted in Covent Garden in 1757.' Biographia Drama- 
 tica. Vol. IL p. 175. 
 
 XXXIII. 2 K 
 
 ■^^%. 
 
258 
 
 a dramatic entertain 'neat, with songs, by Mr Reauie of Aberdeen."* 
 Perhaps the list could be easily increased of those who have drawn their 
 inspiration from this affecting strain of Olden Minstrelsy. 
 
 If any reliance is to be placed on the traditions of that part of the 
 country where the scene of the ballad is laid, we will be enforced to 
 believe that it is founded on facts which occurred at some remote 
 period of Scottish History. The " green wood " of the ballad was the 
 ancient forest of DundafFin Stirlingshire, and Lord Barnard's Castle is 
 said to have occupied a precipitous cliff overhanging the water of Car- 
 ron, on the lands of Halbertshire. A small burn which joins the Car- 
 ron, about five miles above these lands, is named the Earlsburn, and 
 the hill near the source of that stream, is called the Earlshill, both de- 
 riving their appellations according to the unvarying traditions of the 
 country from the unfortunate Erie's son, who is the hero of the ballad. 
 He, also, according!- to the same respectable authority was " beautiful 
 exceedingly," and especially remarkable for the extreme length and 
 loveliness of his yellow hair which shrouded him, as it were a golden 
 mist. To these floating traditions, we are probably indebted for the 
 attempts which have been made to improve and embellish the ballad, by 
 
 * Popular Ballads and Songs. Edinburgh, 1806, Vol. I. p. 5. 
 
 •' It has been thought," says the writer of the Statistical account of St Ninians, " though 
 it cannot be certainly determined, that the Earl's burn, the Earl's hill, a hill and rivulet 
 in the muirland part of the parish, derived their names from the residence of some feudal 
 Baron or Earl in the neighbourhood of the Carron. It is natural to suppose, that Gillies 
 hill, another hill in the muirland part of the parish, derives its name from the name Gill 
 or Gillies. The names both of Gillies and Morrison occur in the muirlands. It is cer- 
 tain, that the fair lady, mother of Gil IMorice ' lived on the Carronside.' This union 
 of facts and probabilities suggests to the imagination, though it cannot persuade the judg- 
 ment, that this parish was the scene of the tragical song, known by the name of Gil 
 Morice." Statistical Account of Scotland^ Vol. XVIII. p. 392. If the Reverend Author, 
 instead of stringing together his facts and probabilities, had consulted some of the ancient 
 Sybils who were his parishioners in that quarter, upon the subject, he would have arrived 
 at more certainty in his deductions. 
 
259 
 
 the introduction of various new stanzas since its first appearance in a 
 printed form. 
 
 Of the early printed editions of this ballad, the Editor has been una- 
 ble to procure any copy.* In Percy's Reliques, it is mentioned 
 that it had run through two editions in Scotland, the second of 
 wliich appeared at Glasgow in 1753, 8vo. ; and that to both there was 
 prefixed an advertisement, setting forth that the preservation of the 
 poem, was owing " to a lady who favoured the printers with a copy, 
 as it was carefully collected from the mouths of old women and nurses," 
 and requesting " that any reader who could render it more perfect and 
 complete, would oblige the public with such improvements." This was 
 holding out too tempting a bait not to be greedily snapped at by some 
 of those " Ingenious Hands"' who have corrupted the purity of legen- 
 dary song in Scotland, by manifest forgeries and gross impositions. 
 Accordingly, sixteen additional verses soon appeared in manuscript, 
 which the Editor of the Keliques has inserted in their proper places, 
 though he rightly views them in no better light than that of an ingeni- 
 ous interpolation. Indeed, the whole ballad of " Gil Morice," as the 
 writer of the present notice has been politely informed by the learned 
 and elegant Editor of the Border Minstrelsy, underwent a total revisal, 
 about the period when the tragedy of Douglas was in the zenitli of 
 its popularity, and this improved copy, it seems, embraced the ingenious 
 interpolation above referred to. Independent altogether of this positive 
 
 • Since writing this, he has been kindly favoured by Mr David Laing of Edinburgh, 
 with an Edition, which, though it has neither place, date, nor printer's name, may, from 
 its title, be considered as the 1st Edinburgh Edition, and printed probably in 175(5. The 
 title is given at length, " Gili. Morice, An Ancient Scots Poem. The foundation 
 of the Tragedy, called Douglas, as it is now acted in the Concert-hall, Canongate." 
 Except some slight variations in orthography, and in its omitting the 16 additional verses 
 which are mentioned by Bishop Percy as having been subsequently added to the ballad, 
 there is no other material difference between this Edition and that which is reprinted in 
 the Reliques. 
 
260 
 
 information, any one familiar with the state in whicli traditionary poetry 
 has been transmitted to the present times, can be at no less to detect 
 many more •' ingenious interpolations," as well as paraphrastic additions in 
 the ballad as now printed. But though it has been grievously corrupt- 
 ed in this way, the most scrupulous inquirer into the authenticity of 
 ancient song can have no hesitation in admitting, that many of its ver- 
 ses, even as they now stand, are purely traditionary, and fair, and ge- 
 nuine parcels of antiquity, unalloyed with any base admixture of mo- 
 dern invention, and in nowise altered, save in those changes of language, 
 to which all oral poetry is unavoidably subjected in its progress from 
 one age to another. For the gratification of the general reader, and 
 for the apter illustration of the more ancient and less vitiated sets of the 
 ballad which follow, an accurate reprint of the copy which occurs in 
 " Percy's Reliques " is now given. 
 
 GIL MORRICE* 
 
 Gd Morrice was an erle's son, 
 His name it waxed wide ; 
 
 It was nae for his great riches, 
 Nor zet his mickle pride ; 
 
 Bot it was for a lady gay,f 
 That liv'd on Cai-ron side. 
 
 * The acknowledged interpolated portions of this set, which are from ver. 109 to ver- 
 121, and from ver. 124 to ver. 129, have also been distinguished by brackets. 
 
 f The stall copies of the ballad complete the stanza thus : 
 
 His face was fair, lang was his hair, 
 III the 7i'Ud uvods he staid ; 
 
261 
 
 Quhair sail I get a bonny boy. 
 
 That will win hose and shoen ; 
 That will ga.e to Lord Barnard's ha', 
 
 And bid his lady cum ? 1 
 
 And ze maun rin my errand, Willie, 
 
 And ze may rin wi' pride ; 
 Quhen other boys gae on their toot. 
 
 On horseback ze sail ride. 
 O no ! O no ! my master dear ! 15 
 
 I dare nae for my life ; 
 I'll no gae to the bauld barons, 
 
 For to triest furth his wife. 
 My bird Willie, my boy Willie, 
 
 My dear Willie, he say'd : 20 
 
 How can ze strive against the stream ? 
 
 For I sail be obeyed. 
 Bot, O my master dear ! he ery'd. 
 
 In grene wod ze're your lain ; 
 Gi owre sic thochts, I wald ze rede, 25 
 
 For fear ze should be tain. 
 Haste, haste, I say gae to the ha', 
 
 Bid hir cum here wi speid ; 
 If ze reftise my heigh command, 
 
 I'll gar zour body bleid. 30 
 
 (iae bid hir take this gay mantel, 
 
 Tis a' gowd bot the hem ; 
 
 But his fame was for a fair lady, 
 That lived on Carronside. 
 
 Which is no injudicious interpolation, inasmuch as it is founded upon the traditions cuj- 
 c-nt among the vulgar, regarding Gil Morice's comely face and long yellow hair. 
 
262 
 
 Bid hir cum to the gude grene wode. 
 
 And bring nane bot hir lain ; 
 And there it is, a silken sarke, 35 
 
 Hir ain hand sewd the sleive ; 
 And bid hir cum to Gil Morice, 
 
 Speir nae bauld barons leave. 
 Yes I will gae zour black errand, 
 
 Though it be to zour cost ; 40 
 
 Sen ze by me will nae be warn'd. 
 
 In it ze sail find frost. 
 The baron he is a man of might. 
 
 He neir could bide to taunt ; 
 As ze will see before its nicht, 45 
 
 How sma' ze hae to vaunt. 
 And sen I maun zour errand rin, 
 
 Sae sair against my will ; ' 
 
 Ise mak a vow and keip it trow. 
 
 It sail be done for ill. 50 
 
 And quhen he came to broken brigue. 
 
 He bent his bow and swam ; 
 And quhen he came to grass growing. 
 
 Set down his feet and ran. 
 And quhen he came to Barnards ha', 55 
 
 Would neither chap nor ca' ; 
 Bot set his bent bow to his breist,* 
 
 And lichtly lap the wa'. 
 
 * This line, the stall copies give thus : 
 
 " But bent his bow to his white breast," 
 A reading very expressive of the action meant to be described, and which, if correct. 
 
63 
 
 263 
 
 He waiild nae tell the mau his errand, 
 
 Though he stude at the gait ; 60 
 
 Bot straicht into the ha' he cam, 
 Quhair they were set at meit. 
 Hail ! hail ! my gentle sire and dame ! 
 
 My message winna waite ; 
 Dame ze maun to the gude grene wod. 
 
 Before that it be late. 
 Ze re bidden tak this gay mantel, 
 
 'Tis a gowd bot the hem ; 
 Zou maun gae to the gude grene wode, 
 
 Ev'n by your sel alane. '" 
 
 And there it is, a silken sarke. 
 
 Your ain hand sewd the sleive ; 
 Ze maun gae speik to Gil Morice, 
 
 Speir nae bauld barons leave. 
 The lady stamped wi' hir foot, ' 73 
 
 And winked wi' her ee ; 
 Bot a that she coud say or do. 
 
 Forbidden he wad nae bee. 
 Its surely to my bow'r- woman. 
 
 It neir could be to me. 80 
 
 I brocht it to Lord Barnard's lady 
 I trow that ze be she. 
 
 Then up and spack the wylie nurse, 
 (The bairn upon hir knee ;) 
 
 would render nugatory all Mr Jamieson's arguments upon a siimlar passage, in another 
 ballad, to prove that, instead of bent, we should substitute irent. 
 
264 
 
 If it be cum frae Gil^Morice, 85 
 
 It's deir welcum to mee. 
 Ze leid, ze leid^ ze filthy nurse, 
 
 Sae loud I heird ze lee ; 
 I brocht it to Lord Barnards lady, 
 
 I trow ze be nae shee.. 90 
 
 Then up and spack the bauld baron, 
 
 An angry man was bee ; 
 He's tain the table wi' his foot, 
 
 Sae has he wi' his knee ; 
 Till siller cup and mazer* dish, 95 
 
 In flinders he gard flee. 
 Gae bring a robe of zour eliding, 
 
 That hings upon the pin ; 
 And I'll gae to the gude grene wode. 
 
 And speik wi zour lemman. 100 
 
 O bide at hame, now Lord Barnard, 
 
 I warde ze bide at hame ; 
 Neir wyte a man for violence. 
 
 That neir wate ze wi nane. 
 Gil Morice sate in gude grene wode, 105 
 
 He Avhistled and he sang : 
 O what means a' the folk coming. 
 
 My mother tarries lang. 
 [[His hair was Hke the threeds of gold. 
 
 Drawne frae Minerva's loome ; 110 
 
 His lipps like roses drapping dew, 
 
 His breath was a' perfume. 
 
 • i. e. A drinking cup of maple; other Edit, read emr, Percy. 
 
265 
 
 His brow was like the mountain sna, 
 
 Gilt by the morning beam ; 
 His cheeks like living roses glow : 115 
 
 His een like azure stream. 
 The boy was clad in robes of greene, 
 
 Sweete as the mfant spring ; 
 And like the mavis on the bush. 
 
 He gart the vallies ring.] 120 
 
 The baron came to the grene wode, . 
 
 Wi' mickle dale and care ; 
 And there he first spied Gil Morice, 
 
 Kameino: his zellow hair : 
 [^That sweetly wav'd around his face, 125 
 
 That face beyond compare ; 
 He sang sae sweet, it might dispel 
 
 A rage, but fell dispair.] 
 Xae wonder, nae ^.vonder, Gil Morice, 
 
 My lady loved thee weel ; 130 
 
 The fairest part of my bodie. 
 
 Is blacker than thy heel. 
 Zet neir the less now Gil Morice, 
 
 For a' thy great beautie, 
 Zes rew tlie day ze eir was born, 135 
 
 That head sail gae wi me. 
 Now he has drawn his trusty brand. 
 
 And slaited on the strae ;* 
 And thro' Gil Morice fair body. 
 
 He's gar cauld iron gae. 140 
 
 " This line to get at its meaning, should be printed,,' And slait it on the strae." Mr 
 Pinkerton has a most ridiculous gloss on this passage in his " Tragic Ballads." 
 
 XXXIV. 2 L 
 
266 
 
 And he has tain Gil Morice head, 
 
 And set it on a speir ; 
 The meanest man in a his train 
 
 Has gotten that head to bear. 
 And he has tain Gil Morice up, 145 
 
 Laid him across his steid. 
 And brocht him to his painted bowr, 
 
 And laid him on a bed. 
 The lady sat on Castil wa'. 
 
 Beheld baith dale and down ; 150 
 
 And there she saw Gil Morice head, 
 
 Cmn trailing to the town. 
 Far better I love that bluidy head, 
 
 Bot, and that zellow hair, 
 Than Lord Barnard, and a' his lands, 155 
 
 As they lig here and thair. 
 And she has tain her Gil Morice, 
 
 And kissd baith mouth and chin ; 
 I was once as fou of Gil Morice, 160 
 
 As the hip is o' the stean. 
 I got ze in my father's house, 
 
 Wi' mickle sin and shame ; 
 I brocht thee up in gude green wode. 
 
 Under the heavy rain. 
 Oft have I by thy cradle sitten, 165 
 
 And fondly seen thee sleep ; 
 Bot now I gae about thy grave. 
 
 The saut tears for to weep. 
 And syne she kissed his bluidy cheik, 
 
 And syne his bluidy chin : 170 
 
 O better I loe my Gil Morice, 
 
 Than a my kith and kin ! 
 Away, away, ze ill woman. 
 
 And an ill death mait ze dee ; 
 
267 
 
 Gin I had kend he'd bin zour son, 175 
 
 He'd neir bin slain for mee. 
 Obraid nie not, my Lord Barnard ! 
 
 Obraid me not for shame ! 
 Wi that same speir, O pierce my heart ! 
 
 And put me out o' pain. 180 
 
 Since nothing bot Gil Morice head, 
 
 Thy jealous rage could quell ; 
 Let that saim hand now tak hir life. 
 
 That neir to thee did ill. 
 To me nae after days nor nichts, 185 
 
 Will eir be saft or kind ; 
 I'll fill the air with heavy sighs. 
 
 And greet till I am blind. 
 Enouch of blood by me's bin spilt, 
 
 Seek not zour death frae mee ; 190 
 
 I rather lourd it had been mysel, 
 
 Than eather him or thee. 
 With waefo wae I hear zour plaint ; 
 
 Sair, sair I rew the deid. 
 That eir this cursed hand of mine, 195 
 
 Had gard his body bleid. 
 Dry up zour tears my winsome dame, 
 
 Ze neir can heal the wound ; 
 Ze see his head upon the speir. 
 
 His heart's blude on the ground. 200 
 
 I curse the hand that did the deid. 
 
 The heart that thocht the ill ; 
 The feet that bore me wi' sik speid^ 
 
 The comely zouth to kill. 
 I '11 ay lament for Gil Morice, 205 
 
 As gin he were mine ain ; 
 
268 
 
 I'll neir forget the dreiry day, 
 On which the zouth was slain.* 
 
 In the shape which it now bears, the foregoing ballad must be considered 
 as one whose text has been formed out of various sets combined by the 
 taste, and in all likelihood materially eked out by the invention, of the 
 editor of 1755. The worthy and useful class of " old women and nurses," 
 from whose mouths it is stated to be carefully taken, has not entirely dis- 
 appeared; but it would defy the most unwearied and persevering industry, 
 to obtain from their lips, in this day, any duplicate of the present copy 
 which could, by unexceptionable evidence, be traced to a period anterior 
 to the date of the first edition. The scene of wire-drawn recrimination be- 
 tween Lord Barnard and his lady, which is quite out of keeping with the 
 character of the " bold baron," is of itself quite enough to convince any 
 one vei-sant in this species of literature, that it has come through the refining 
 hands of a modern ballad Avright. In this opinion, the present writer does 
 not stand singular, for both Mr iTttson and Mr Jamieson agree in rejecting 
 as spurious, the stanzas which follow after the one beginning 
 
 " Awa, awa ye ill woman," 
 
 And the opinion of these critics in such a question, is certainly entitled to 
 much deference. 
 
 But, fortunately for those desirous of fixing the genuineness of tradition- 
 ary poetry, the opinion now expressed does not rest for its accuracy on 
 mere conjecture. In the course of his enquiries on this subject, the editor 
 received from the recitation of an old woman, a copy, which, while it con- 
 
 * " It may be proper to mention, that other copies read ver. 110, thus 
 
 ' Shot frae the golden sun,' 
 And ver. 116, as follows, 
 
 " His een like azure sheene." — Percy. 
 
269 
 
 firms that opiiiiou, and affords a fair specimen of what the sets of the ballad 
 probably were, from which the text of " Gil Morice " was selected, like- 
 wise proves that the editor of the Reliques was perfectly correct when he 
 stated that the ballad was current in Scotland, under the very title which 
 the present copy bears, viz. 
 
 CHIELD MORICE.* 
 
 Chield Morice was an earl's son, 
 
 His name it waxed wide ; 
 It was nae for his parentage, 
 
 Nor yet his meikle pride ; 
 But it was for a lady gay, 5 
 
 That liv'd on Carron side. 
 O Willie^ my man, my errand gang. 
 
 And you maxni rin wi' speed ; 
 When other boys rin on their feet. 
 
 On horseback ye shall ride. 10 
 
 O master dear I love you weel, 
 
 And I love you as my life ; 
 But I will not gae to Lord Barnard's ha'. 
 
 For to tryst forth his wife. 
 
 » This was the title given by the old woman herself. She is now 70 years of age, and 
 the ballad in ijuestion she learned in her infancy from her grandmother. She mentions 
 that at a later period of her life she also committed to memory " Gill Morice," which 
 began with young lasses like her to be a greater favourite, and more fashionable than the 
 set which her grandmother and other old folks used to sing under the title of " Chield 
 Morice." 
 
270 
 
 for the baron he's a man of might, 15 
 
 He ne'er could bide a taunt ; 
 And ye shall see or it be late, 
 
 How meikle ye'll hae to vaunt. 
 O you must rin my errand Willie, 
 
 And you maun rin \vi' speed ; 20 
 
 And if you don't obey my hie command, 
 
 I'll gar your body bleed. 
 And here it is a gay raanteel, 
 
 Its a' gowd bot the liem ; 
 Bid her come speak to Chield Morice, 25 
 
 Bring nae body but her lane. 
 And here it is a Holland smock, 
 
 Her ain hand sewed the sleeve ; 
 Bid her come speak to Chield Morice, 
 
 Ask not the Baron's leave. 30 
 
 Since I must rin this errand for you, 
 
 Sae sair against ray w^ill ; 
 I've made a vow, and I'll keep it true, 
 
 It shall be done for ill. 
 For he did not ask the porters leave, 35 
 
 Tho' he stood at the gate ; 
 But straight he ran to the big hall, 
 
 Where great folk sat at meat. 
 Good hallow gentle sir and dame, 
 
 My errand canna wait ; 40 
 
 Dame ye must gae speak to Chield Morice, 
 
 Before it be too late. 
 And here it is a gay manteel. 
 
 Its a' gowd bot the hem ; 
 Ye must come speak to Chield Morice, 45 
 
 Bring nae body but your lane. 
 
271 
 
 And here it is a Holland smock, 
 Your ain Land sewed the sleeve ; 
 
 You must come speak to Chield Morice 
 
 Ask not the Baron's leave. 50 
 
 Oh aye she stamped wi' her foot. 
 
 And winked wi' her e'e, 
 But for a' that she could say or do. 
 
 Forbidden he wadna be. 
 It's surely to my bouir- woman, 55 
 
 It canna be to me. 
 I brocht it to Lord Barnard's lady. 
 
 And I trow that thou art she. 
 Out then spak the wylie nurse, 
 
 Wi' the baini just on her knee, 60 
 
 If this be come from Chield Morice, 
 
 It's dear welcome to me. 
 Thou lies, thou lies, thou wylie nurse, 
 
 Sae loud's I hear thee lie, 
 I brocht it to Lord Barnard's lady, 65 
 
 And I trow thou binna she. 
 Then up and rose him the bold baron, 
 
 And an angry man was he ; 
 He took the table wi' his foot. 
 
 And kepp'd it wi' his knee, 70 
 
 Till silver cup and ezar dish 
 
 In flinders they did flee. 
 Go bring me one of thy cleiding 
 
 That hings upon the pin, 
 And I'll awa' to the gude green wood, 75 
 
 And crack wi' your leman. 
 I would have you stay at hame. Lord Barnard, 
 
 I would have you stay at hame ; 
 
272 
 
 Never wyte a man for violence done 
 
 That never thocht you wrang. 80 
 
 And when he to the green wood went, 
 
 Nobody saw he there, 
 But Chield Morice on a milk-white steed. 
 
 Combing down his yellow hair. 
 Chield Morice sat in the gay green wood, 8S 
 
 He whistled and he sang ; 
 O what means a' thir folk coming ? 
 
 My mother tarries lang. 
 No wonder, no wonder, Chield IMorice, he said. 
 
 My lady loved thee weel, 90 
 
 For the whitest bit of my body 
 
 Is blacker than thy heel. 
 But nevertheless now, Chield Morice, 
 
 For a' thy gay beautie ; 
 Oh nevertheless now, Chield Morice, 95 
 
 Thy head shall go with me. 
 He had a rapier by his side, 
 
 Hung low down by his knee; 
 He struck Chield Morice on the neck, 
 
 Till afF his head did flee. 100 
 
 Then he's ta'en np that bluidy head, 
 
 And stuck it on a spear, 
 And the meanest man in a' his train 
 
 Gat Chield Morice head to bear. 
 The lady look'd owre the castle wa', 105 
 
 Wi' meikle dule and down,* 
 
 * So recited, the word doxcn must h .tc be considered as signifying a presentiment of com- 
 ing evil. Qucere— whether does this line, or the corresponding one in Gill 3Iorice, pre- 
 serve the right reading ? 
 
273 
 
 And there she saw Chield Moriee head. 
 
 Coming trailing to the town. 
 But he's taen up this bluidy head. 
 
 And dash'd it 'gainst the wa' ; 
 Come down, come down, you ladies fair, 110 
 
 And play at this footba' ! 
 Then she's taen up this bluidy head, 
 
 And she kiss'd it baith cheek and chin ; 
 I would rather hae ae kiss o' that bluidy head. 
 
 Than a' thy Earldom. 115 
 
 I got him in my father's bower, 
 
 Wi meikle sin and shame ; 
 And I brocht him up in the gay green wood, 
 
 Beneath the heavy rain. 
 Many a day have I rock'd thy cradle, 120 
 
 And fondly seen thee sleep 
 But now I'll gang about thy grave, 
 
 And sair, sair will 1 weep, 
 O woe be to thee, thou wild woman. 
 
 And an ill deid may thou die ; 125 
 
 For if ye had tauld me he was your son, 
 
 He should hae ridden and gane wi me. 
 O hold your tongue you bold baron. 
 
 And an ill deid may thou die ; 
 He had lands and rents enew of his ain, 130 
 
 He needed nane frae thee. 
 Then I'll curse the hand that did the deed. 
 
 The heart that thocht him ill. 
 The feet that carried me speedilie. 
 
 This comely youth to kill. 135 
 
 • This lady she died gin ten o' the clock, 
 
 Lord Barnard he died gin twal' ; 
 
 XXXV. 2 M 
 
274 
 
 And bonnie boy, now sweet Willie, 
 What's come o' him I canna tell. 
 
 Besides the foregoing, there seems to have been another version of 
 this ballad at one time known, three stanzas of which, being all that he 
 was able to recover, Mr Jamieson has given in his " Notes on Childe 
 Maurice." These stanzas are said to be the beginning and end of the 
 piece. They are as follows : — 
 
 " Gil Morris sat in Silver wood, 
 
 He whistled and he sang ; 
 Where sail I get a bonny boy, 
 
 My errand for to gang. 
 He's ca'd his foster brither Willie, 
 
 Come win ye hose and shoon. 
 And gae unto Lord Barnard's ha'. 
 
 And bid his lady come. 
 * * * 
 
 And she has taen the bloody head, 
 
 And cast it i' the brim. 
 Syne gathered up her robes of green. 
 
 And fast she followed him." 
 
 The set of the ballad to which these verses belong, the editor has 
 been at some pains to recover ; but in this respect, he has been equally 
 unfortunate with Mr Jamieson. He has been informed, however, by 
 Mr Sharpe, that the above fragment is incorporatetl in an Annandale 
 version of the ballad, which also ii^grafts a novel feature on the story, 
 inasmuch as it is wound up by making the ghost of the slain youth 
 
275 
 
 appear to his mother, between whom, a colloquy, somewhat in the vein 
 of May Margaret's discourse with the spirit of Clerk Saunders, takes 
 place; and then, agreeably to established use and wont, after such an inter- 
 view, she follows the noiseless footsteps of the beloved shade, and expires 
 on the spot, where it is resolved into " thin air." 
 
 The precise form in which the ballad was known to the author of 
 " Douglas," cannot now be ascertained. From the circumstance of the 
 catastrophe of the above fragment, and that of the tragedy agreeing 
 with each other,* Mr Jamieson fancies it probable, that it may have 
 been part of the traditionary version followed by Mr Home. The pre- 
 sent editor has been politely informed by Sir Walter Scott, that he had, 
 at different times, enquired of the late Mr Home concerning the ballad 
 on which his poem was supposed to be founded, but without success, 
 owing to the then impaired state of the venerable Dramatist's memory. 
 
 At rather an early period, the ballad somewhat differing, it must be 
 confessed, from any copy known to exist in Scotland, appears to have 
 been also popular in the north of England ; and indeed with it, as with 
 many more, it might be difficult to say to which country it of right ex- 
 clusively belongs. This is the set of the ballad to which Dr Percy refers, 
 as occurring in his folio MS-, under the title of " Childe Maurice ;" and 
 it has been printed by Mr Jamieson in his collection from that MS. with 
 minute fidelity, who thereby bath conferred no small favour on the lover 
 of ancient song. As it is not only a curious version withall, but likewise 
 peculiarly illustrative, both of the sets which have gone before, and of that 
 one]which gives a title to this prolix argument ; it is to be hoped that no 
 apology will be necessary for presenting it here to the reader, more 
 especially as the valuable collection, from which it is extracted, hatli 
 not been so well received by the world as its merits deserve. 
 
 • The discrepancy in this particular, between the common edition of the ballad and 
 the tragedy of Douglas, has been prettily supplied by some miserable verse maker, whose 
 delectable continuation, extending to 6 stanzas, the curious reader will find printed among 
 Mr Jamieson's notes on " Childe Maurice." 
 
276 
 
 CHILDE MAURICE. 
 
 Childe Maurice hunted ithe silven wood* 
 
 he hunted it round about 
 
 & noebody y*^ he found theren 
 
 nor noebody without 
 
 and tooke his silver combe in his hand 
 to kembe his yellow lockes 
 
 he sayes come hither thou litle foot page 
 y* runneth lowly by my knee 
 iFor thou shalt goe to John Steward's wifFe 
 & pray her speake w* mee 
 
 & as it ffalls out many times 
 
 as knotts been knitt on a kell 
 
 or merchant men gone to leeve London 
 
 either to buy ware or sell 
 
 and grete thou doe y*^ ladye well 
 ever soe well ffroe niee 
 
 and as it ffalls out many times 
 
 as any harte can thinke 
 
 as schoole masters are in any schoole house 
 
 writting with pen and inke 
 
 Silven, sic in MS. 
 
277 
 
 ffor if I might as well as shee may 
 this night I wold w'** her speake 
 
 & heere I send a mantle of greene 
 as greene as any grasse 
 and bid her come to the silver wood* 
 to hunt w'^ Childe Maurice 
 
 & there I send her a ring of gold 
 a ring of precyous stone 
 and bid her come to the silver wood 
 let for no kind of man ; 
 
 one while this litle boy he yode 
 another while he ran 
 untU he came to John Steward's hall 
 I wis he never blan 
 
 and of nurture the child had good 
 he ran up hall & bower ffree 
 and when he came to this lady flfaire 
 sayes God you save and see 
 
 I am come fFrom Childe Maurice 
 a message unto thee 
 & Childe Maurice he greets you well 
 & ever soe well firom me 
 
 and as it ffalls out oftentimes 
 
 as knotts been knitt on a kell 
 
 or merchant men gone to leeve London 
 
 either to buy or sell 
 
 * Silver wood, tic in MS. 
 
278 
 
 & as oftentimes he greetes you well 
 as any hart cau thinke 
 or schoolemaster in any schoole 
 wryting w^ pen and inke 
 
 & heere he sends a mantle of greene 
 as greene as any grasse 
 & he bidds you come to the silver wood 
 to hunt w''' child Maurice 
 
 & heere he sends you a ring of gold 
 a ring of precyous stone 
 he prayes you to come to the silver wood 
 let for no kind of man 
 
 now peace, now peace, thou litle fotpage 
 fFor Christe's sake I pray thee 
 fFor if my Lo heare one of those words 
 thou must be hanged hye 
 
 John Steward stood under the castle wall 
 & he wrote the words every one 
 
 & he called unto his horsse keeper 
 make ready you my steede 
 and soe he did to his Chambferlaine 
 make readye then my weed 
 
 & he cast a lease upon his backe 
 & he rode to the silver wood 
 & there he sought all abovit, 
 about the silver wood 
 
279 
 
 & there he found him Child Maurice 
 sitting vpon a blocke 
 w* a silver combe in his hand 
 kembing his yellow locke 
 
 he sayes how now how now Child Maurice 
 alacke how may this bee 
 but then stood by him Child Maurice 
 & sayd these words trulye 
 
 I do not know your ladye he said 
 if that I do her see 
 fFor thou hast sent her love tokens 
 more now then 2 or 3 
 
 for thou hast sent her a mantle of greene 
 as greene as any grasse 
 & bade her come to the silver wood 
 to hunt w*^ Childe Maurice 
 
 and by my faith now Childe Maurice 
 the tane of us shall dye 
 now by my troth sayd Childe Maurice 
 & that shall not be I 
 
 but he pulled out a bright browne sword 
 & dryed it on the grasse 
 & soe fast he smote at John Steward 
 I wis he never rest 
 
 then hee pulled forth his bright browne sword 
 & dryed itt on his sleeve 
 & the ffirst good stroke John Steward stroke 
 Child Maurice head he did cleeve 
 
280 
 
 & he pricked it on his sword's poynt 
 went singing there beside 
 and he rode till he came to the ladye ffaire 
 whereas his ladye lyed 
 
 and sayes dost thou know Child Maurice head 
 
 iff that thou dost it see 
 
 and llap it soft, and kisse itt offt 
 
 ffor thou lovedst him better than mee 
 
 but when shee looked on Childe Maurice head 
 shee never spake words but three 
 I never beare noe childe but one 
 and you have slain him trulye 
 
 sayes wicked be my merry men all 
 I gave meate drink and clothe 
 but cold they not have hoi den me 
 when I was in all that wrath 
 
 ffor I have slaine one of the courteousest knights 
 
 that ever betrode a steede 
 
 soe have I done one of the fairest ladyes 
 
 that ever ware womans weede 
 
 What has gone before, forms a fit introduction to the very ancient 
 traditionary ballad on the same subject, which is now for the first time 
 printed. With much deference to the opinion of others skilled in these 
 matters, the editor has to challenge for it in point of antiquity, a prece- 
 cedence far above any of its fellows : indeed, in his judgment, it has 
 
281 
 
 every appearance of being the prime root, from which all the variations 
 of the ballad heretofore known have originated. 
 
 In this place, it may be remarked too, that it obviously preserves the 
 true title of the ballad, " Morice " and " Maurice " being evident cor- 
 ruptions of " Norice," a nursling, or foster, corruptions which from si- 
 milarity of sound in the enunciation, can easily be conceived as likely 
 ones into which reciters, who learn by the ear, are exceedingly apt to 
 fall ; and corruptions of which the experience of every one who has at- 
 tempted to collect these interesting monuments of early song, can fur- 
 nish ample parallels. Again, its clear, straight-forward, rapid and 
 succinct narrative — its extreme simplicity of style and utter destitution 
 of all ornament, argue most powerfully in behalf of the primitiveness 
 and authenticity of its text. It is, in fact, the very anatomy of a perfect 
 ballad, wanting nothing that it should have, and having nothing that it 
 should want. By testimony of a most unexceptionable description — but 
 which it would be tedious here to detail — the editor can distinctly 
 trace this ballad as existing in its present shape, at least a century ago, 
 which carries it decidedly beyond the date of the first printed copy of Gil 
 Morice ; and this with a poem which has been preserved, but by oral tradi- 
 tion, is no mean positive antiquity. If we imagine it a more ancient version 
 than that contained in Dr Percy's MS., our sole means of arriving at a 
 satisfactory conclusion must be derived from such internal evidence as 
 the ballad itself aftbrds ; and, both versions being now before the reader, 
 he is enabled to judge deliberately for himself, and to form his own 
 opinion, on that which many will, ere this^ I suspect, have deemed a very 
 unimportant subject. 
 
 In conclusion, it may be mentioned, that the ballad is exceedingly 
 rare ; and, so far as the editor has been able to learn, it has escaped the 
 notice of our most eminent collectors of traditionary poetry. This may 
 be ascribed to the refined and ornate paraphrase of Gil Morice, having 
 supplanted it in the affections - of the vulgar, in the same way as the 
 
 XXXVI. 2 N 
 
282 
 
 poem of " Sir James the Rose/' attributed to the pen of Michael Bruce, 
 hath absorbed^ almost entirely, the memory of the old ballad on which 
 it is founded. 
 
 CHILD NORYCE.* 
 
 Child Norjce is a clever young man, 
 
 He wavers wi' the wind ; 
 His horse was silver shod before. 
 
 With the beaten gold behind. 
 
 He called to his little man John, 
 Saying '* you don't see what I see ; 
 
 For oh yonder I see the very first woman, 
 That ever loved me. 
 
 * That the reader may have no room to doubt the genuineness of a bal- 
 lad for which a very high antiquity is claimed, the editor thinks it right to 
 mention, that it is given verbatim as it was taken down from the singing 
 of widow M'Cormick, who, at this date^ (January, 1825,) resides in West- 
 brae Street of Paisley. 
 
283 
 
 " Here is a glove, a glove, he said, 
 
 Lined with the silver grey ; 
 You may tell her to (-onie to the merry green 
 wood, 
 
 To speak to child Nory. 
 
 « Here is a ring, a ring, he says, 
 
 Its all gold but the stane ; 
 You may tell her to come to the merry green 
 
 wood, 
 And ask the leave o' nane." 
 
 " So well do I love your errand, my master, ^ 
 
 But far better do I love my life ; 
 would ye have me go to Lord Barnard's 
 
 Castel, 
 To betray away his wife V 
 
 " O don't I give you meat," he says, 
 
 " And don't I pay you fee ? ^^ 
 How dare you stop my errand,'' he says, 
 
 « My orders you must obey." 
 
 Oh when he came to Lord Barnard's Castel, 
 He tinkled at the ring ; 
 
284 
 
 Who was as ready as Lord Barnard himself, ^ 
 To let this little boy in. 
 
 *' Here is a glove, a glove, he says. 
 
 Lined with the silver grey ; 
 You are bidden to come to the merry green 
 wood, 
 
 To speak to Child Nory. 
 
 " Here is a ring, a ring," he says, 
 
 " Its all gold but the stane : 
 You are bidden to come to the merrv «rreeii 
 wood. 
 
 And ask the leave o' nane." 
 
 ^ Lord Barnard he was standing by. 
 
 And an angry man was he : 
 " Oh little did I think there was a lord in this 
 world, 
 My lady loved but me T" 
 
 Oh he dressed himself in the holland smocks. 
 
 And garments that was gay; ^ 
 And he is away to the merry green wood, 
 
 To speak to Child Nory. 
 
285 
 
 Child Noryce sits on yonder tree 
 
 He whistles and he sings ; 
 " O wae be to me," says Child Noryce, 
 
 ** Yonder my mother comes !" 
 
 Child Noryce he came off the tree, 
 His mother to take off the horse ; 
 
 " Och alace, alace," says Child Noryce, 
 " My mother was ne'er so gross." 
 
 Lord Barnard he had a little small sword, 
 That hung low down by his knee ; 
 
 He cut the head off Child Noryce, 
 And put the body on a tree. 
 
 And when he came to his castel, 
 
 And to his lady's hall, 
 He threw the head into her lap. 
 
 Saying, " Lady there is a ball ! " 
 
 She turned up the bloody head. 
 She kissed it frae cheek to chin ; 
 
 " Far better do I love this bloody head, 
 Than all my royal kin. 
 
286 
 
 " When I was in my father's castell, 
 
 In my virginitie ; 
 There came a lord into the north, 
 
 Gat Child Norjce with me." 
 
 " O wae be to thee lady Margaret," he said, 
 " And an ill death may you die; 
 
 For if you had told me he was your son, 
 He had ne'er been slain by me." 
 
 ' This unquestionably should be Lady Barnard, instead of her Lord, see 
 3d stanza under ; bnt as it was so recited, this obvious en-or, the editor did 
 not conceive himself warranted to correct, more especially as he has found 
 it out of his power to obtain another copy of the ballad from any different 
 quarter. 
 
 - This ballad more distinctly than either Gil Morice or Chield Moricc, 
 annoimces the disguise resorted to by Lord Barnard, in order to surprise 
 his supposed rival. 
 
287 
 
 YOUNG HASTINGS THE GROOM. 
 
 For this Ballad, which is now for the first time printed, we are in- 
 debted to Mr Peter Buchan of Peterhead. It was communicated to 
 him by Mr James Nicol of Strichen. 
 
 O WELL love I to ride in a mist, 
 And shoot in a northern wind ; 
 
 And far better a lady to steal, 
 That's come of a noble kind. 
 
 Four-and-twenty fair ladies 
 Put on that lady's sheen ; 
 
 And as many young gentlemen 
 Did lead her o'er the green. 
 
 Yet she preferred before them all 
 Him young Hastings the Groom ; 
 
 He's coosten a mist before them all, 
 And away this lady has ta'en. 
 
288 ^> 
 
 He's taken the lady on him behind, 
 Spared neither the grass nor corn, 
 
 Till they came to the wood of Amonshaw, 
 Wiere again their loves were sworn. 
 
 And thev have lived in that wood, 
 
 Full many a year and day ; 
 And were supported from time to time, 
 
 By what he made of prey. 
 
 And seven bairns fair and fine, 
 
 There she has born to him. 
 And never was in good church door, 
 
 Nor never oat good kirkinoj. 
 
 Once she took harp into her hand, 
 
 And harped them asleep; 
 Then she sat down at their couch side. 
 
 And bitterly did weep. 
 
 Said, " Seven bairns have I born now. 
 
 To my lord in the ha' ; 
 I wisli they were seven greedy rats 
 
 To run upon the wa'. 
 
289 
 
 And I mysel' a great grey cat, 
 To eat them ane an' a'. 
 
 " For ten long years now I have lived 
 
 Within this cave of stane, 
 And never was at good church door, 
 
 Nor got no good churching." 
 
 O then outspak her eldest child, 
 
 And a fine boy was he — 
 " O hold your tongue, my mother dear, 
 
 ril tell you what to dee. 
 
 " Take you the youngest in your lap, 
 The next youngest by the hand ; 
 
 Put all the rest of us you before, 
 As you learnt us to gang. 
 
 " And go with us into some kirk, 
 You say they are built of stane, 
 
 And let us all be christened, 
 And you get good kirking." 
 
 She took the youngest in her lap. 
 
 The next youngest by the hand* — 
 xxxvii. 2 o 
 
290 
 
 Set all the rest of them her before, 
 As she learnt them to gang. 
 
 And she has left the wood with them, 
 
 And to a kirk has gane ; 
 ^\^lere the good priest them christened. 
 
 And gave her good kirking. 
 
 LAMBERT LINKIN. 
 
 Of this very popular ballad various editions have been published. The 
 first, in point of time, we believe, is that which appeared in Mr. Herd's 
 Collection, Edinburgh, 1776, entitled " Lamraikin ;" the next that which 
 occurs in Mr. Jamieson's Collection, Edinburgh, 1806, under the title of 
 " Lamkin." Two different versions of it will also be found in Mr. Finlay's 
 Collection, Edinburgh, 1808, under the title of Laramikin, the first of 
 which is a reprint of Mr. Herd's copy, interlaced with a number of addi- 
 tional verses, while the latter professes to be given wholly from a manu- 
 script, corrected from a recited copy. Of all these copies, that given by 
 Mr. Jamieson is unquestionably the best, as well as apparently the most 
 authentic ; the second copy given by Mr. Finlay is also genuine, but an 
 
291' 
 
 abridged form of the original ballad. On the contrary, the copy in Mr. 
 Herd's work is out of all sight the worst, inasmuch as it contains sundry 
 injudicious interpolations and rhetorical embellishments by a modem hand. 
 It is remarkable, however, that this interpolated edition, (such is the taste 
 of the times), is the one most frequently to be met with in our every-day 
 collections of old ballads and songs. 
 
 The present copy is given from recitation ; and though it could have 
 received additions, and perhaps improvements, from another copy, obtained 
 from a similar source, and of equal authenticity, in his possession, the 
 Editor did not like to use a liberty which is liable to much abuse. To some, 
 the present set of the ballad may be valuable, as handing down both name 
 and nickname of the revengeful builder of Prime Castle ; for there can be 
 little doubt that the epithet Linkin, Mr. Lambert acquired from the secrecy 
 and address with which he insinuated himself into that notable strength. 
 Indeed all the names of Lammerlinkin, Lammikin, Lamkin, Lankin, Lin- 
 kin, Belinkin, can easily be traced out as abbreviations of Lambert Linkin. 
 In the present set of the ballad, Lambert Linkin and Belinkin are used 
 indifferently, as the measure of the verse may require ; in the other recited 
 copy, to which reference has been made, it is Lammerlinkin, and Lamkin ; 
 and the nobleman for whom he '•' built a house," is stated to be " Lord 
 An-an." No allusion, however, is made here to the name of the owner 
 of Prime Castle. Antiquaries, peradventure, may find it as difficult to 
 settle the precise locality of this fortalice, as they have found it to fix the 
 topography of Troy. 
 
 Belinkin was as gude a mason 
 As e'er pickt a stane ; 
 
 He built up Prime Castle, 
 But payment gat nane. 
 
292 
 
 ^ The lord said to his lady, 
 
 When he was going abroad, 
 " O beware of Belinkin, 
 For he lyes in the wood." 
 
 The gates they were bolted 
 Baith outside and in ; 
 
 At the sma' peep of a window 
 Belinkin erap in. 
 
 " Gude morrow, gude morrow," 
 Said Lambert Linkin; 
 
 " Gude morrow to yoursell, sir,' 
 Said the fause nurse to him. 
 
 " O whare is your gude lord?" 
 Said Lambert Linkin; 
 
 " He*s awa to New England, 
 To meet with his king." 
 
 " O where is his auld son?" 
 Said Lambert Linkin ; 
 
 " He's awa to buy pearlings 
 Gin our lady ly in." 
 
29S 
 
 '< Then she'll never wear them," 
 
 Said Lambert Linkin ; 
 " And that is nae pity," 
 
 Said the fause nurse to him. 
 
 " O where is your lady?" 
 Said Lambert Linkin ; 
 
 " She's in her bouir sleepin'," 
 Said the fause nurse to him. 
 
 " How can we get at her?" 
 Said Lambert Linkin ; 
 
 " Stab the babe to the heart 
 Wi' a silver bo'kin." 
 
 " That wud be a pity," 
 Said Lambert Linkin; 
 
 " Nae pity, nae pity,*' 
 
 Said the fause nurse to him. 
 
 Belinkin he rocked, 
 
 And the fause nurse she sang. 
 Till a' the tores^ o' the cradle. 
 
 Wi the red blude down ran. 
 
294 
 
 " O still my babe, nurice, 
 O still him wi the knife ;" 
 
 " He'll no be still, lady, 
 Tho' I lay down my life." 
 
 " O still my babe, nurice, 
 
 O still him wi the kame ;" 
 " He'll no be still, lady, 
 Till his daddy come hame." 
 
 " O still my babe, nurice, 
 O still him wi the bell ;" 
 
 " He'll no be still, lady, 
 
 Till ye come down yoursell." 
 
 " Its how can I come doun 
 
 This cauld frosty nicht. 
 Without e'er a coal 
 
 Or a clear candle licht ?" 
 
 " There's twa smocks in your coffer, 
 
 As white as a swan, 
 Put ane o' them about you. 
 
 It will shew you licht doun." 
 
295 
 
 She took ane o' them about her, 
 And came tripping doun ; 
 
 But as soon as she viewed, 
 Behnkin was in. 
 
 (( 
 
 (( 
 
 Gude morrow, gude morrow,'* 
 Said Lambert Linkin ; 
 Gude morrow to yoursell, sir," 
 Said the lady to him. 
 
 " Oh save my Hfe, Belinkin, 
 Till my Jiusband come back. 
 
 And I'll gie ye as much red gold 
 As ye'll hand in your hat.' 
 
 >» 
 
 " I'll not save your life, lady. 
 Till your husband come back, 
 
 Tho' you wud gie me as much red gold 
 As I could baud hi a sack. 
 
 " Will I kill herT' quo Belinkin, 
 " Will I kill her, or let her be?" 
 You may kill her," said the fause nurse, 
 She was ne*er gude to me ; 
 
 
296 
 
 And ye'll be laird o* the Castle, 
 And I'll be ladye." 
 
 Then he cut afF her head 
 Fra her lily breast bane, 
 
 And he hiing't up in the kitchen, 
 It made a' the ha' shine. 
 
 The lord sat in England 
 
 A-drinking the wine : 
 " I wish a' may be weel 
 
 Wi my lady at hame ; 
 For the rings o' my fingers 
 
 They're now burst in twain !" 
 
 He saddled his horse, 
 
 And he came riding doun ; 
 
 But as soon as he viewed, 
 Belinkin was in. 
 
 He hadna weel stepped 
 Twa steps up the stair, 
 
 Till he saw his pretty young son 
 Lying dead on the floor. 
 
297 
 
 He hadna weel stepped 
 Other twa up the stair, 
 
 Till he saw his pretty lady 
 Lying dead in despair. 
 
 He hanged Belinkin 
 
 Out over the gate; 
 And he burnt the fause nurice 
 
 Being under the grate. 
 
 1 Tores. The projections or knobs at the comers of old fashioned 
 cradles, and the ornamental balls commonly found surmounting the backs 
 of old chairs. Dr. Jamieson does not seem to have had a precise notion 
 of this word. Vide IV. vol. of his Dictionary, voce Tore. 
 
 XXXVIII. 2 r 
 
298 
 
 REEDISDALE AND WISE WILLIAM. 
 
 We are not aware of this excellent Ballad having till now appeared 
 in print. It is from the recitation of Mr Nicol Strichen, and was com- 
 municated to us by Mr P. Buchan of Peterhead, whom we have to 
 thank for several valuable contributions of a like nature. 
 
 When Reedisdale and Wise William 
 
 Was drinking at the wine, 
 There fell a roosing them amang, 
 
 On one unruly time. * 
 
 For some of them has roosed their hawks. 
 And other some their hounds; 
 
 And other some their ladies fair, 
 
 And their bow'rs whare they walk'd in. 
 
 When out it spak him Reedisdale, 
 And a rash word spak he ; 
 
299 
 
 Says, " There is not a lady fair, 
 
 In bower wherever she be, 
 But I could aye her favour win, 
 
 With one blink of my e'e." 
 
 Then out it spak him Wise William, 
 
 And a rash word spak he: 
 Says, " I have a sister of my own, 
 
 In bower wherever she be, 
 And ye will not her favour win, 
 
 With three blinks of your e'e." 
 
 " What will you wager. Wise William? 
 
 My lands I'll wad with thee;" 
 " I'll wad my head against your land, 
 
 Till I get more monie." 
 
 Then Reedisdale took Wise William — 
 
 Laid him in prison Strang; 
 That he might neither gang nor ride. 
 
 Nor no word to her send. 
 
 But he has written a braid letter, 
 Between the night and day, 
 
300 
 
 And sent it to his own sister, 
 By dun feather and gray. 
 
 When she had read Wise Wilham's letter, 
 
 She smiled and she leuch ; 
 Said very weel, my dear brother, 
 
 Of this I have eneuch. 
 
 She looked out at her west window. 
 
 To see what she could see, 
 And there she spied him Reedisdale, 
 
 Come riding o'er the lea. 
 
 Says, " Come to me my maidens all 
 
 Come hitherward to me; 
 For here it comes him Reedisdale, 
 
 Who comes a-courting me.' 
 
 5J 
 
 " Come down, come down, my lady fair, 
 
 A sight of you give me." 
 " Go from my yetts now, Reedisdale, 
 
 For me you will not see." 
 
301 
 
 " Come down, come down, my lady fair, 
 
 A sight of you give me ; 
 And bonnie is the gowns of silk 
 
 That I will give to thee." 
 
 " If you have bonnie gowns of silk, 
 
 mine is bonnie tee ; 
 
 Go from my yetts now Reedisdale, 
 For me you shall not see." 
 
 " Come down, come down, my lady fair, 
 
 A sight of you I'll see ; 
 And bonnie jewels, broaches, rings, 
 
 1 will give unto thee." 
 
 " If you have bonnie broaches, rings, 
 
 O mine are bonnie tee ; 
 Go from my yetts now Reedisdale, 
 
 For me you shall not see." 
 
 " Come down, come down, my lady fair. 
 
 One sight of you I'll see ; 
 And bonnie is the halls and bowers 
 
 That I will give to thee." 
 
302 
 
 " If you have bonnie halls and bowers, 
 
 O mine is bonnie tee ; 
 Go from my yetts now Reedisdale, 
 
 For me you shall not see.'* 
 
 " Come down, come down, my lady fair, 
 
 A sight of you I'll see ; 
 And bonnie is my lands so broad 
 
 That I wall give to thee." 
 
 " If you have bonnie lands so broad, 
 
 mine is bonnie tee; 
 
 Go from my yetts now Reedisdale, 
 For me you will not see." 
 
 " Come down, come down, my lady fair, 
 
 A sight of you I'll see; 
 And bonnie is the bags of gold 
 
 That I will give to thee." 
 
 " If you have bonnie bags of gold, 
 
 1 have bags of the same ; 
 
 Go from my yetts now Reedisdale, 
 For down I will not come." 
 
303 
 
 " Come down, come down, my lady fair, 
 
 One sight of you I'll see, 
 Or else I'll set your house on fire. 
 
 If better cannot be." 
 
 Then he has set the house on fire. 
 
 And all the rest it took ; 
 He turned his wight horse head about. 
 
 Said " Alas! they'll ne'er get out." 
 
 " Look out, look out, my maidens fair. 
 
 And see what I do see ; 
 How Reedisdale has fired our house. 
 
 And now rides o'er the lee. 
 
 ■" Come hitherward, my maidens fair, 
 
 Come hither unto me ; 
 For through this reek and through this smeek, 
 O through it we must be." 
 
 They took wet mantles them about. 
 
 Their coffers by the band ; 
 And through the reek and through the flame. 
 
 Alive they all have wan. 
 
304. 
 
 When they had got out through the fire. 
 
 And able all to stand. 
 She sent a maid to Wise William, 
 
 To bruik Reedisdale's land. 
 
 " Your lands is mine, now, Reedisdale, 
 
 For I have won them free." 
 " If there is a good woman in the world, 
 
 Your one sister is she." 
 
 BARBARA LIVINGSTON. 
 
 A MUCH longer set of this ballad will be found in Mr Jaraieson's collec- 
 tion, vol. II. The present version is given from recitation. Its catastrophe 
 differs from that of Mr. Jamieson's copy. 
 
 Four and twenty ladies fair 
 Were playing at the ba', 
 
 And out cam Barbara Livingston, 
 The flower amang them a'. 
 
305 
 
 Out cam Barbara Livingston, 
 The flower amang them a' — 
 
 The lusty Laird of Linlyon'* 
 Has stoun her clean awa*. 
 
 " The hielands is no for me, kind sir, 
 
 The hielands is no for me ; 
 But if you would my favour win, 
 
 Ye'll tak me to Dundee." 
 
 " The hielands '11 be for thee, my dear, 
 The hielands will be for thee ; 
 
 To the lusty Laird o' Linlyon 
 A-married ye shall be." 
 
 When they cam to Linlyon's yetts, 
 
 And lichtit on the green, 
 Every ane spak Earse to her — 
 
 The tears cam trickling down. 
 
 " Mr Jamieson has " Glenlyon," which is probably the right name. 
 XXXIX. 2 Q 
 
306 
 
 When they went to bed at nicht, 
 To Linlyon she did say — 
 
 " Och and alace ! a weary nicht, 
 Oh but it's lang till day." 
 
 " Your father's steed's in my stable, 
 He's eating corn and hay. 
 
 And you're lying in my twa arms, 
 What need you lang for day ?' 
 
 " If I had paper, pen, and ink, 
 
 And candle for to see, 
 I would write a lang letter 
 
 To my love in Dundee.' 
 
 »5 
 
 J» 
 
 They brocht her paper, pen, and ink. 
 
 And candle for to see, 
 And she did write a lang letter 
 
 To her love in Dundee. 
 
 When he cam to Linlyon^s yetts, 
 And lichtit oa the green ; 
 
 But lang or he wan up the stair 
 His love was dead and gane. 
 
307 
 
 Woe' be to thee Linlyon, 
 An ill death may thou die ; 
 
 Thou might hae ta'en anither woman, 
 And let my lady be. 
 
 SWEET WILLIAM 
 
 is given from the chaunting of an old woman. It has never been 
 before printed. 
 
 Sweet William's gane over seas, 
 
 Some unco lair to learn, 
 And our gude Bailie's ae dochter 
 
 Is awa to learn the same. 
 
 In ae braid buik they learned baith. 
 In ae braid bed they lay ; 
 
 But when her father cam to know, 
 He gart her come away. 
 
308 
 
 " It's you must marry that Southland lord, 
 
 His lady for to be ; 
 It's ye maun marry that Southland lord, 
 
 Or nocht ye'll get frae me." 
 
 " I must marry that Southland lord, 
 
 Father, an it be your will ; 
 But I'd rather it were my burial day, 
 
 My grave for to fill." 
 
 She walked up, she walked down. 
 
 Had nane to mak her moan, 
 Nothing but the pretty bird 
 
 Sat on the causey stone. 
 
 " If thou could speak, wee bird," she says, 
 
 " As weel as thou can flee, 
 I would write a lang letter 
 
 To Will ayont the sea." 
 
 " What thou wants wi' Will," it says, 
 
 " Thou'll seal it wi' thy ring ; 
 Tak a thread o' silk, and anither o' twine. 
 
 And about my neck it hing." 
 
309 
 
 What she wanted wi' WilHe 
 
 She sealed it wi' a rins^ ; 
 Took a thread o' silk, anither of twine, 
 
 About its neck did hing. 
 
 This bird flew high, this bird flew low. 
 
 This bird flew owre the sea, 
 Until it entered the same chamber 
 
 Wherein was sweet Willie. 
 
 This bird flew high, this bird flew low — 
 
 Poor bird it was mista'en — 
 It loot the letter fa' on Baldie's breast 
 
 Instead of sweet William. 
 
 " Here's a letter, William," he says, 
 
 " I'm sure it's not to me ; 
 And gin the morn gin twelve o'clock 
 
 Your love shall married be." 
 
 " Come saddle to me my horse," he said, 
 *' The brown and a' that's speedie, 
 
 And I'll awa' to Old England, 
 To bring hame my ladie." 
 
400 
 
 Awa he gade, awa he rade, 
 
 Awa wi' meikle speed; 
 He lichtit at every twa miles' end, 
 
 Lichtit and changed his steed. 
 
 When she entered the church style, 
 
 The tear was in her e'e. 
 But when she entered the church door 
 
 A blythe sight did she see. 
 
 " Oh hold your hand you minister, 
 
 Hold it a little wee. 
 Till I speak wi' the bonnie bride, 
 
 For she's a friend to me," 
 
 " Stand off, stand off, you braw bridegroom, 
 
 Stand off a little wee j 
 Stand off, stand off, you braw bridegroom. 
 
 For the bride shall join wi' me." 
 
 Up and spak the bride's father, 
 
 And an angry man was he— 
 " If I had pistol, powther and lead, 
 
 And all at my command, 
 
401 
 
 It's I would shoot thee stiff and dead 
 In the place where thou dost stand." 
 
 Up and spoke then sweet William, 
 And a blithe blink from his e'e ; 
 
 " If ye ne'er be shot till I shoot you, 
 Ye'se ne'er be shot for me." 
 
 " Come out, come out, my foremost man, 
 
 And lift my lady on ; 
 Commend me all to my goodmother, 
 
 At night when you gang home." 
 
 MARY HAMILTON. 
 
 Of this ballad two <50Hiplete, but somewhat diflfering, tx>pies have already 
 been published, one in the Border Minstrelsy, and the other in Mr 
 Sharpe's Ballad Book ; the fragment of a third version is extant in " A 
 North Countrie Garland," and this has subsequently appeared in " Glean- 
 ings of Old Ballads," by P. Buchan. The present copy differs from all 
 
402 
 
 these, and as it sliews the state in which it is frequently to be met with asi 
 preserved by ti-adition in the West of Scotland, no apology is deemed ne- 
 cessary for again presenting this interesting ballad to the notice of those 
 who are curious in matters of this sort. 
 
 Sir Walter Scott inclines to ascribe the ballad to the following incident 
 mentioned by Knox. " In the very time of the General Assembly, there 
 comes to public notice a haynous murther committed in the court ; yea not 
 far from the Queen's lap ; for a French woman that served in the Queen's 
 chamber had played the whore with the Queen's own apothecary. The 
 woman conceived and bare a childe, whom, with common consent, the 
 father and mother murtliered ; yet Avere the cries of a new-borne childe 
 hearde, searche was made, the childe and the mother were both appre- 
 hended, and so were the man and the woman condemned to be hanged in 
 the publicke street in Edinburgh. The punishment v/as suitable, because 
 the crime was haynous. But yet was not the Court purged of whores and 
 whoredoms, which was the fountain of such enormities : for it was well 
 knowne that shame hasted marriage betwixt John Sempill, called the 
 Dancer,* and Mary Levingston, sirnamed the Lusty. What bruit the 
 Maries and the rest of the dancers of the Court had, the ballads of that 
 age do witness, which we for modestie's sake omit." — History of the He- 
 formation, p. 373. For these modest scruples, in omitting the ballads of 
 the age, the historian, it is believed, will receive but slender thanks at the 
 hands of the poetic antiquary. 
 
 " It will readily strike the reader," adds the Editor of the Border Min- 
 strelsy, " that the tale has suffered great alterations as handed down by 
 tradition ; the French waiting-woman being changed into Mary Hamil- 
 ton, and the Queen's apothecary into Henry Darnley. Yet this is less 
 
 » This was the ancestor of Sir James Sempill of Belltrees. A new edition of the 
 poetical works of Sir James, and of his descendants, will shortly appear, uniform with 
 Mr Laing's beautiful editions of Montgomerie's, and Alexander Scott's poems. 
 
313 
 
 surprismg, when we recollect, that "one of the heaviest of the queen's com- 
 plaints against her ill-fated husband was his infidelity, and that even with 
 her personal attendants." 
 
 Mr Sharpe has prefixed his set of " Marie Hamilton" with these remarks : 
 — " It is singular that during the reign of the Czar Peter, one of his Em- 
 press's attendants, a Miss Hamilton, was executed for the murder of a na- 
 tural child — not her first crime in that way as was suspected ; and the Em- 
 peror, whose admiration of her beauty did not preserve her life, stood upon 
 the scaffold till her head was struck off, which he lifted by the eais and 
 kissed on the lips. I cannot help thinking that the two stories have been 
 confused in the ballad, for if Marie Hamilton was executed in Scotland, it is 
 not likely that her relations resided beyond seas ; and we have no proof 
 that Hamilton was really the name of the woman who made the slip with 
 the Queen's apothecary." 
 
 In this set of the ballad, from its direct allusion to the use of the Savin 
 tree, a clue is, perhaps, afforded for tracing how the poor mediciner men- 
 tioned by Knox, should be implicated in the crime of Maiy Hamilton. It 
 may also be noted as a feature iu this version of the ballad, which does not 
 occur in any heretofore printed, the imfortunate heroine's proud and indig- 
 nant spuming at life after her character had been tainted by the infamy of 
 a sentence of condemnation. In another copy of the ballad, also obtained 
 from recitation, this sentiment is, perhaps, still more forcibly expressed at 
 any rate it is more appropriate as being addressed to the King. The whole 
 concluding verses of this copy, differing as they somewhat do from the ver- 
 sion adopted for a text, it has been thought worth while to preserve. 
 
 But bring to me a cup she says, 
 
 A cup bot and a can, 
 And I will drink to all my friends, 
 
 And they'll drink to me again. 
 Here's to you all travellers, 
 
 Who travel by land or sea, 
 
 XL. 2 R 
 
314 
 
 Let na wit to my father nor mother 
 
 The death that I must die. 
 Here's to you all travellers, 
 
 That travel on dry land ; 
 Let na wit to my father or mother 
 
 But I am coming hame. 
 Oh, little did my mother think, 
 
 First time she cradled me. 
 What land I was to travel on, 
 
 Or what death I would die. 
 Oh, little did my mother think, 
 
 First time she tied my head. 
 What land I was to tread upon. 
 
 Or whare I would win my bread. 
 Yestreen Queen Mary had four Maries; 
 
 This night she'll hae but three ; 
 She had Mary Seaton, and Mary Beaton, 
 
 And Mary Carmichael, and me. 
 Yestreen I wush Queen Mary's feet, 
 
 And bore her till her bed ; 
 This day she's given me my reward. 
 
 The gallows tree to tread. 
 Cast aff, cast aff my gown, she said, 
 
 But let my petticoat be ; 
 And tye a napkin on my face. 
 
 For that gallows I downa see. 
 By and cam the King himsell, 
 
 Look'd up wi a pitiful ee ; 
 Come down, come down, Mary Hamilton, 
 
 This day thou wilt dine with me. 
 Hold your tongue, my sovereign liege, 
 
 And let yom* folly be ; 
 
315 
 
 An ye bad had a mind to save niy life, 
 Ye should na hae shamed mc here ! 
 
 The copy of the ballad fi'om which the above extract is given, begins with 
 this verse. 
 
 There were three ladies, they lived in a bower. 
 
 And oh but they were fair ; 
 The youngest o' them is to the King's court, 
 
 To learn some unco lair. 
 
 There is another version in Avhich the heroine is named Mary Myles, or 
 Myle ; but Myle is probably a corruption of the epithet "mild," which occurs 
 in the ft-agment given in the North Countrie Garland. This version, at least 
 that which the Editor took from the singing of an old woman, commences 
 thus : — 
 
 There lived a lord into the west. 
 
 And he had dochters three ; 
 And the youngest o' them is to the King's court 
 
 To learn some couitesie. 
 She hadna been in the King's court 
 
 A twelvemonth and a dav, 
 Till she was neither able to sit nor gang 
 Wi the gaining o' some play. 
 
 By this set, too, it appears that this unfortunate lady's fate had excited 
 the compassion of bosoms made of sterner stuff than the other copies men- 
 tion. 
 
 When she gaed up the Cannongate side. 
 
 The Cannongate side sae free, 
 Oh there she spied some Minister lads. 
 Crying, och and alace for me. 
 
 In an imperfect copy of the ballad, also obtained from recitation, the fol- 
 
316 
 
 lowing stanza occurs, which is not to be met with in any other set which I 
 have seen. 
 
 They socht the chalmir up and down, 
 
 And in below the bed ; 
 And there they fand a braw lad bairn 
 
 Lying lapperin' in his blude. 
 
 This fragment concludes with Mary Hamilton's declaring on the scaffold 
 the lofty lineage from which she had sprung, and intimating the cause of 
 her undoing. 
 
 My father he's the Duke of York ; 
 
 My mother's a gay ladye ; 
 And I mysell am a pretty fair lady, 
 
 And the King fell in love with me. 
 
 There lives a knight into the north, 
 
 And he had daughters three ; 
 The ane of them was a barber's wife, 
 
 The other a gay ladie ; 
 
 And the youngest o' them to Scotland is gane 
 
 The Queen's Mary to be, 
 And for a' that they could say or dp 
 
 Forbidden she wouldna be. 
 
317 
 
 The prince's bed it was sae saft, 
 
 The spices they were sae fine, 
 That out of it she could not lye 
 
 While she was scarce fifteen. 
 
 She's gane to the garden gay 
 
 To pu' of the Savin tree, 
 But for a' that she could say or do 
 
 The babie it would not die. 
 
 She's rowed it in her handkerchief. 
 
 She threw it in the sea, 
 Says, — " sink ye, swim ye, my bonnie babe, 
 
 For ye'll get nae mair of me." 
 
 Queen Mary came tripping down the stair, 
 Wi' the gold strings in her hair; 
 
 " O whare's the little babie, she says, 
 That I heard greet sae sair.' 
 
 >» 
 
 " O hald your tongue Queen Mary, my dame» 
 
 Let all those words go firee ; 
 It was mysell wi' a fit o' the sair colic, 
 
 I was sick just like to die." 
 
 ? 
 
318 
 
 " O hald your tongue Mary Hamilton, 
 Let all those words go free ; 
 
 where is the little babie 
 That I heard weep by thee?" 
 
 " I rowed it in my handkerchief, 
 And threw it in the sea j 
 
 1 bade it sink, I bade it swim, 
 
 It would get nae mair o' me." 
 
 " O wae be to thee, Mary Hamilton, 
 
 And an ill deid may you die ; 
 For if you had saved the babie's life, 
 
 It might hae been an honour to thee. 
 
 " Busk ye, busk ye, Mary Hamilton, 
 
 O busk ye to be a bride ; 
 For I am going to Edinburgh town 
 
 Your gay wedding to bide. 
 
 " You must not put on your robes of black 
 
 Nor yet your robes of brown ; 
 But you must put on your yellow gold stuffs, 
 
 To shine thro' Edinburgh town." 
 
319 
 
 " I will not put on my robes of black, 
 
 Nor yet my robes of brown ; 
 But I will put on my yellow gold stuffs, 
 
 To shine thro* Edinburgh town." 
 
 As she went up the Parliament Close, 
 
 A riding on her horse, 
 There she saw many a Burgess* lady 
 
 Sit greetino; at the cross. 
 
 " O what means a* this greeting, 
 
 I'm sure its nae for me. 
 For I'm come this day to Edinburgh town 
 
 Weel wedded for to be." 
 
 When she gade up the Parliament stair. 
 She gied loud lauchters three ; 
 
 But ere that she had come down again. 
 She was condemned to die. 
 
 " O little did my mother think 
 The day she prinned my gown. 
 
 That I was to come sae far frae hame 
 To be hanged in Edinburgh town. 
 
320 
 
 " O what'U my poor father think, 
 As he comes through the town, 
 
 To see the face of his Molly fair 
 Hanging on the gallows pin. 
 
 " Here's a health to the mariners 
 That plough the raging main ; 
 
 Let neither my mother nor father ken 
 But I'm coming hame again. 
 
 " Here's a health to the sailors 
 
 That sail upon the sea ; 
 Let neither my mother nor father ken 
 
 That I came here to die. 
 
 " Yestreen the Queen had four Maries, 
 This night she'll hae but three ; 
 
 There was Mary Beaton, and Mary Seaton, 
 And Mary Carmichael, and me." 
 
 " O hald your tongue, Mary Hamilton, 
 
 Let all those words go free ; 
 This night ere ye be hanged. 
 
 Ye shall gang hame wi me." 
 
321 
 
 "O hald your tongue, Queen Mary, my dame, 
 
 Let all those words go free. 
 Since I have come to Edinburgh town, 
 
 Its hanged I shall be ; 
 For it shall ne'er be said that in your court 
 I was condemned to die." 
 
 «' In Balfour House, in Fifeshire, is a full-length portrait of Maiy Beaton." 
 -Ballad Book. 
 
 SIR JAMES THE ROSE. 
 
 This old north country ballad, which appears to be founded on fact, is well 
 known in almost every corner of Scotland. Pinkerton printed it in his 
 Tragic Ballads, 1781, " from," as he says, " a naodem edition in one sheet 
 12mo, after the old copy." Notwithstanding this reference to authority, 
 the ballad certainly received a few conjectural emendations from his own 
 pen ; at least, the present version which is given as it occurs in early stall 
 prints, and as it is to be obtained from the recitations of elderly people, does 
 not exactly correspond with his. 
 
 Two modern ballads have sprung out of this old one, namely, Sir James 
 the Boss, and Elfrida and Sir James of Perth. The first of these is said 
 to have been written by Michael Bruce ; the latter is an anonymous pro- 
 duction, and has found its way into Evans' Collection — vide Vol. IV. Edin, 
 
 XLI. 2 S 
 
322 
 
 1810. It might be curious to ascertain which of these mournful ditties is 
 the senior^ were it for nothing else than perfectly to enjoy the cool impu- 
 dence with which the graceless youngster has appropriated to itself, without 
 thanks or acknowledgment, all the best things which occur in the other. 
 
 O HEARD ye of Sir James the Kose, 
 
 The young heir of Buleighan ? 
 For he has killed a gallant squire, 
 
 And his friends are out to take him. 
 
 Now he's gone to the house of Marr, 
 Where the Nourice was his leman ; 
 
 To seek his dear he did repair, 
 
 Thinking she would befriend him. 
 
 '' Where are you going, Sir James V slie says, 
 " Or where now are you riding V 
 
 " Oh I am bound to a foreign land, 
 For now I'm under hiding. 
 
 " Where shall I go ? where shall I rim ? 
 
 Where shall I go to hide me ? 
 For I have killed a gallant squire. 
 
 And they're seeking to slay me." 
 
323 
 
 " go ye down to yon ale-house, 
 And I'll there pay your lawin* ; 
 
 And if I be a maiden true, 
 I'll meet you in the dawin'.' 
 
 » 5» 
 
 " I'll no go down to yon ale-house 
 For you to pay my lawin* ; 
 
 There's forty shillings for one supper, 
 I'll stay in't till the dawin'.' 
 
 .' '» 
 
 He's turned him richt and round about, 
 And row^ed him in his brechan ; 
 
 And he has gone to take a sleep, 
 In the lowlands of Buleighan. 
 
 He had not weel gone out o' sicht. 
 Nor was he past Millstrethen, 
 
 Till four-and-twenty belted knights, 
 Came riding owre the Lethan. 
 
 '• have ye seen Sir James the Rose, 
 The young heir of Buleighan ? 
 
 For he has killed a gallant squire, 
 And we're sent out to take him." 
 
324 
 
 "01 have seen Sir James," she says, 
 " For he passed here on Monday ; 
 
 If the steed be swift that he rides on 
 He's past the gates o' London^." 
 
 As thev rode on man after man, 
 Then she cried out behind them, 
 
 " If you do seek Sir James the Rose, 
 I'll tell you where you'll find him. 
 
 " Seek ye the bank abune the mill. 
 
 In the lowlands of Buleighan ; 
 And there you'll find Sir James the Rose, 
 
 Lying sleeping in his brechan. 
 
 " You must not wake him out of sleep. 
 
 Nor yet must you affright him. 
 Till you drive a dart quite through his heart, 
 
 And through his body pierce him." 
 
 They sought the bank abune the mill, 
 
 In the lowlands of Buleighan, 
 And there they found Sir James the Rose, 
 
 Lying sleeping in his brechan. 
 
 * " He's past the hichts o' Lundie/' (Pinkerlon,) which is probably the 
 correct reading. 
 
325 
 
 Up then spake Sir John the Graeme, 
 Who had the charge a-keeping, 
 
 *' It shall ne'er be said, dear gentlemen, 
 We killed him when a-sleeping." 
 
 They seized his broad sword and his targe, 
 
 And closely him surrounded ; 
 And when he waked out of his sleep. 
 
 His senses were confounded. 
 
 " O pardon, pardon, gentlemen, 
 
 Have mercy now upon me." 
 " Such as you gave, such you shall have, 
 
 And so we fall upon thee." 
 
 " Donald, my man, wait me upon, 
 
 And I'll gie you my brechan. 
 And if you stay here till I die 
 
 You'U get my trews of tartan. 
 
 " There is fifty pounds in my pocket, 
 Besides my trews and brechan, 
 
 Ye'U get my watch and diamond ring. 
 And take me to Loch-Largan." 
 
326 
 
 Now they've ta'en out his bleeding heart, 
 
 And stuck it on a spear, 
 Then took it to the House of Marr, 
 
 And gave it to his dear. 
 
 But when she saw his bleeding heart, 
 
 She was like one distracted, 
 She wrung her hands and tore her hair, 
 
 Crying — " Oh ! what have I acted. 
 
 " It's for your sake, Sir James the Rose, 
 That my poor heart's a-breaking ; 
 
 Cursed be the day I did thee betray, 
 Thou brave knight o' Buleighan." 
 
 Then up she rose, and forth she goes, 
 
 And in that fatal hour. 
 She bodily was born away. 
 
 And never was seen more. 
 
 But where she went was never kent. 
 
 And so, to end the matter, 
 A traitor's end you may depend 
 
 Can never be no better. 
 
327 
 
 FAIR ANNIE. 
 
 A FRAGMENT of this bcEutiful ballad first appeared in the Collection of 
 David Herd^ 1781.* A complete copy of it, obtained from recitation, was 
 afterwards given in the Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, under the title of 
 Lord Thomas and Fair Annie. Two other copies, obtained from a similar 
 source, appeared in the Appendix of Mr Jamieson'e Collection, entitled 
 Lady Jane and Burd Helen, from which lie formed the ballad of Lady 
 Jane received into the body of the work. The same gentleman, has, in the 
 work referred to, translated from the Ksempe Viser, a Danish ballad, enti- 
 tled Skoen Annie, the story of which is the same with the present. To 
 this he has subjoined some valuable and cuiious remarks on the striking 
 resemblance which exists between the Scottish and Scandinavian tradition- 
 ary songs. His views on this interesting subject are given much more ex- 
 tended in the second part of that very valuable volume, " Northern Antiqui- 
 ties." f These we will have occasion to notice in the introduction to this 
 volume. 
 
 This ballad. Sir Walter Scott observes, is, in its subject, similar to the 
 Breton romance of " Fai le Frain," or ihe Lay of the Ash ; and, it is pro- 
 bable, as the same writer suggests, that many other of our popular ballads 
 may be likewise traced to a Romance original. In confirmation of this opi- 
 nion, it may be noticed here, that, in one of the commonest of our stall bal- 
 
 • IVIr Jamieson has fallen into a mistake in saying that the ballad first appeared in 
 Pinkerton's Ballads, not reflecting that Mr. P. deserves little credit for his industry in coU 
 lecting unedited ballads, however much he may be entitled to for his pains in invenihg 
 some. 
 
 + Illustrations of Northern Antiquities. Edin. 1814, 4to. 
 
328 
 
 lads, namely, The Factor s Garland, in four parts, (a deserved favourite 
 with the vulgar,) its principal, and certainly the most interesting, incident 
 will be found in the curious romance of Sir Amadas.* 
 
 Of the present ballad, the Editor has two copies, both obtained from the 
 recitation of old people. They differ somewhat from each other ; but as 
 both sets are worth preserving, the one which is rejected now will find a 
 place in the Appendix. 
 
 " Learn to mak your bed Annie, 
 
 And learn to lie your lane, 
 For I maun owre the salt seas gang, 
 
 A brisk bride to bring liame. 
 
 " Bind up, bind up, your yellow hair, 
 
 And tye it in your neck ; 
 And see you look as maiden-like 
 
 As the day that we first met." 
 
 " O how can 1 look maiden-like, 
 
 When maiden I'll ne'er be ; 
 When seven brave sons I've born to thee, 
 
 And the eighth is in my bodie ? 
 
 » Wober's Metrical Romances, Vol. III. Edin. 1810. 
 
329 
 
 " The eldest of your sons, my Lord, 
 Wi* red gold shines his weed; 
 
 The second of your sons, my Lord, 
 Rides on a milk white steed : 
 
 " And the third of your sons, my Lord, 
 He draws your beer and wine ; 
 
 And the fourth of your sons, my Lord, 
 Can serve you when you dine. 
 
 " And the fift of your sons, my Lord, 
 
 He can both read and write j 
 And the sixth of your sons, my Lord, 
 
 Can do it most perfyte : 
 
 <* And the sevent of your sons, ^ly Lord, 
 
 Sits on the nurse's knee ; 
 And how can 1 look maiden-like. 
 
 When a maid FU never be ? 
 
 « But wha will bake your wedding bread. 
 
 And brew your bridal ale ; 
 Or wha will welcome your brisk bride 
 
 That you bring owre the dale ?" 
 
 XLII. 2 T 
 
330 
 
 " I'll put cooks in my kitchen, 
 
 And stewards in my hall, 
 And I'll have bakers for my bread, 
 
 And brewers for my ale ; 
 But you're to welcome my brisk bride 
 
 That I bring owre the dale." 
 
 He set his feet into his ship. 
 
 And his cock-boat on the main ; 
 
 He swore it would be year and day 
 Or he returned again. 
 
 When year and day was past and gane 
 Fair Annie she thocht lang, 
 
 And she is up to her bower head 
 To behold both sea and land. 
 
 " Come up, come up, my eldest son, 
 And see now what you see ; 
 
 Oh yonder comes your father dear. 
 And your stepmother to be." 
 
 " Cast off your gown of black, mother. 
 Put on your gown of brown. 
 
331 
 
 And I'll put off my mourning weeds, 
 And we'll welcome him home." 
 
 She's taken wine into her hand, 
 
 And she has taken bread. 
 And she is down to the water side 
 
 To welcome them indeed. 
 
 ^' You're welcome, my lord, you're welcome, 
 my lord, 
 
 You're welcome home to me, 
 So is every lord and gentleman 
 
 That is in your companie. 
 
 " YouVe welcome my lady, you're welcome 
 my lady, 
 
 You're welcome home to me. 
 So is every lady and gentleman 
 
 That's in your companie." 
 
 '* I thank you my girl, I thank you my girl, 
 
 I thank you heartily ; 
 If I live seven years about this house 
 
 Rewarded you shall be." 
 
332 
 
 She serv'd them up, she serv'd them down, 
 With the wheat bread and the wine, 
 
 But aje she drank the cauld water 
 To keep her colour fine. 
 
 She serv'd them up, she serv'd them down. 
 With the wheat bread and the beer, 
 
 But aye she drank the cauld water 
 To keep her colour clear. 
 
 When bells were rung and mass was sung, 
 
 And all were boune for rest, 
 Fair iVnnie laid her sons in bed. 
 
 And a sorrowfu' woman she was. 
 
 " Will I go to the salt salt seas, 
 
 And see the fishes swim ; 
 Or will I go to the gay green wood, 
 
 And hear the small birds sing ?" 
 
 Out and spoke an aged man. 
 
 That stood behind the door, 
 " Ye will not go to the salt salt seas 
 
 To see the fishes swim, 
 
333 
 
 Nor will ye go to the gay green wood 
 To hear the small birds sing : 
 
 <* But ye'll take a harp into your hand, 
 
 Go to their chambei* door, 
 And aye ye'll harp and aye ye'll mum, 
 
 With the salt tears falling o'er." 
 
 She's ta'en a harp into her hand. 
 
 Went to their chamber door. 
 And aye she harped and aye she murn'd, 
 
 With the salt tears falling o'er. 
 
 Out and spak the brisk young bride, 
 
 In bride bed where she lay, 
 " I think I hear my sister Annie, 
 
 And I wish weel it may ; 
 For a Scotish lord staw her awa, 
 
 And an ill death may he die." 
 
 " Wha was your father, my girl," she says, 
 
 " Or wha was your mother ; 
 Or had you ever a sister dear, 
 
 Or had you ever a brother ?" 
 
334 
 
 " King Henry was my father dear. 
 Queen Esther was my mother, 
 
 Prince Henry was my brother dear, 
 And Fanny Flower my sister." 
 
 " If King Henry was your father dear, 
 And Queen Esther was your mother, 
 
 If Prince Henry was your brother dear^ 
 Then surely Fm your sister." 
 
 " Come to your bed, my sister dear, 
 It ne'er was wrang'd for me, 
 
 Bot an ae kiss of his merry mouth. 
 As we cam owre the sea." 
 
 " Awa, awa, ye forenoon bride, 
 
 Awa, awa frae me ; 
 I wudna hear my Annie greet, 
 
 For a' the gold I got wi' thee." 
 
 " There were five ships of gay red gold 
 Cam owre the seas with me. 
 
 Its twa o' them will tak me hame, 
 And three FU leave wi' thee. 
 
335 
 
 " Seven ships o' white monie 
 
 Came owre the seas wi' me, 
 Five o* them I'll leave wi* thee, 
 
 And twa will take me hame ; 
 And my mother will make my portion up 
 
 When I return again." 
 
 BILLIE ARCHIE, 
 
 la a North Country version of a popular Border Ballad. 
 
 " Seven years have I loved my love, 
 And seven years my love's loved me ; 
 
 But now to-morrow is the day 
 
 That Billie Archie, my love, must die.' 
 
 Out then spoke him Little Dickie, 
 And still the best fellow was he ; 
 
 " Had I but five men and mysell 
 
 Then we would borrow Billie Archie." 
 
336 
 
 Out it spoke him CafF o'Lin, 
 
 And still the worst fellow was he ; 
 
 " You shall have five men and yoursell, 
 And I will bear you companie. 
 
 " We will not go like to dragoons, 
 Nor yet will we like grenadiers ; 
 
 But we will go like corn-dealers, 
 
 And lay our brechams on our meares. 
 
 " And twa of us will watch the road, 
 And other twa between will gang. 
 
 And I will go to jail house door. 
 
 And hold the prisoner unthought lang." 
 
 ** Wha is this at the jail-house door, 
 Sa weel as they do ken the gin." 
 
 " It's I my sell," said him Little Dickie, 
 " And oh sae fain's I would be in." 
 
 " Awa, awa, now Little Dickie, 
 
 Awa, let all your folly be ; 
 If the Lord Lieutenant come on you. 
 
 Like unto dogs he'll cause you die." 
 
337 
 
 " Hold you, hold you, Billy Archie, 
 And now let all your folly be ; 
 
 Though I die without, you'll not die within. 
 For borrowed shall your body be." 
 
 " Awa, awa, now Little Dickie, 
 
 Awa, let all this folly be ; 
 An hundred pounds of Spanish irons 
 
 Is all bound on my fair bodie.'* 
 
 Wi' plough coulters and gavelocks 
 
 They made the jail house door to jflee ; 
 
 " And in God's name," said Little Dickie, 
 " Cast you the prisoner behind me." 
 
 They had not rade a great way off. 
 With all the haste that ever could be, 
 
 Till they espied the Lord Lieutenant, 
 With a hundred men in companie. 
 
 But when they cam to wan water, 
 It now was rumbling like the sea. 
 
 Then were they got into a strait, 
 As great a strait as well could be. 
 
 XLIII. 2 u 
 
338 
 
 Then out did speak him Caff o* Lin, 
 And aye the warst fellow was he ; 
 
 " Now God be with my wife and bairns. 
 For fatherless my babes will be. 
 
 " My horse is young, he cannot swim 
 The water's deep, and will not wade ; 
 
 My children must be fatherless. 
 My wife a widow whate'er betide." 
 
 Oh ! then cried out him little Dickie, 
 And still the best fellow was he ; 
 
 " Take you my mare, I'll take your horse, 
 And Devil drown my mare and thee." 
 
 Now they have taken the wan water. 
 Though it was roaring like the sea ; 
 
 And when they gat to the other side, 
 I wat they bragged right crouslie. 
 
 " Come thro', come thro' now, lord lieutenant. 
 Oh ! do come thro* I pray of thee ; 
 
 There is an alehouse not far off, 
 
 We'll dine you and your companie." 
 
339 
 
 " Awa, awa now little Dickie, 
 
 Oh ! now let all your taunting be ; 
 
 There's not a man in the king's army, 
 
 That would have tried what's done by thee." 
 
 " Cast back, cast back, my fetters again, 
 Cast back my fetters, I say to thee ; 
 
 And get you gane the way you came, 
 I wish no prisoners like to thee," 
 
 " I have a mare she's called Meg, 
 The best in all our low countrie ; 
 
 If -she gang barefoot till they're done. 
 An ill death may your lordship die." 
 
 SON DAVIE, SON DAVIE. 
 
 The following, which is given from the recitation of an old woman, will 
 strike the reader as resembling the ballad of the « Twa Brothers," a set of 
 
340 
 
 which is given in a preceding part of this collection. But it resembles 
 more the ballad given in Percy's Reliques, beginning 
 
 Why does zour brand sae drap wi' blood, 
 Edw^ard ! Edward ! 
 
 and which was communicated by Lord Hailes. Indeed, there is reason to 
 believe, that his Lordship made a few slight verbal improvements on the 
 copy he transmitted, and altered the hero's name to Edward, a name which, 
 by-the-bye, never occurs in a Scottish ballad, except where allusion is made 
 to an English King. This then, may be looked upon as the genuine tradi- 
 tionary version ; but it is given now, principally for the pui-pose of afford- 
 ing an opportunity of preserving the melody to which it is sung among the 
 other tunes with which this volume will be enriched. 
 
 *' What bluid's that on thy coat lap? 
 
 Son Davie ! Son Davie ! 
 What bluid's that on thy coat lap ? 
 
 -And the truth come tell to me O." 
 
 " It is the bluid of my great hawk, 
 Mother lady ! mother lady ! 
 
 It is the bluid of my great hawk, 
 And the truth I hae tald to thee O.' 
 
341 
 
 " Hawk's bluid was ne'er sae red, 
 
 Son Davie ! son Davie ! 
 Hawk's bluid was ne'er sae red, 
 
 And the truth come tell to me 0." 
 
 " It is the bluid o' my grey hound, 
 Mother lady ! mother lady ! 
 
 It is the bluid of my grey hound, 
 And it wudna rin for me O." 
 
 ** Hound's bluid was ne'er sae red. 
 
 Son Davie ! son Davie ! 
 Hound's bluid was ne'er sae red. 
 
 And the truth come tell to me 0." 
 
 " It is the bluid o' my brother John, 
 
 Mother lady ! mother lady ! 
 It is the bluid o' my brother John, 
 
 And the truth I hae tald to thee O." 
 
 *< What about did the plea begin ? 
 
 Son Davie! son Davie!" 
 *« It began about the cutting o' a willow wand. 
 
 That would never hae been a tree O." 
 
342 
 
 " What death dost thou desire to die ? 
 
 Son Davie ! son Davie ! 
 What death dost thou desire to die ? 
 
 And the truth come tell to me O.' 
 
 »> 
 
 " I'll set my foot in a bottomless ship, 
 
 Mother lady ! mother lady ! 
 I'll set my foot in a bottomless ship, 
 
 And ye'll never see mair o' me O." 
 
 " What will't thoti leave to thy poor wife ? 
 
 Son Davie ! son Davie ! " 
 " Grief and sorrow all her life. 
 
 And she'll never get mair frae me O." 
 
 " Wliat will't thou leave to thy auld son? 
 
 Son Davie ! son Davie !" 
 " The weary warld to wander up and down, 
 
 And he'll never get mair o' me O." 
 
 " What will't thou leave to thy mother dear ? 
 
 Son Davie ! son Davie !" 
 " A fire o' coals to burn her wi' hearty cheer, 
 
 And she'll never get mair o' me O." 
 
343 
 
 THE WEE, WEE MAN. 
 
 The principal object in giving the present traditionary version of this well 
 known and singular ballad, is to restore to the mysterious little Master 
 whom it commemorates, that marvellous breadth of shoulders which truly 
 belongs to him, and of which, it will be seen, by compai-ison with the com- 
 mon printed copies, that he has been most unceremoniously and injudi- 
 ciously deprived. The vast latitude of his chest, and formidable bigness of 
 his head, contrasted with the tiny measurement of his limbs, add wondrous- 
 ly to the grotesqueness of his figure, and form too important a feature in the 
 cuiious picture to be heedlessly omitted- There is an old poem in the Cot- 
 ton MSS. which Ritson supposes to be of the time of Edward I. or II., 
 which begins 
 
 Als Y Yod on ay Mounday. 
 
 and of which, the present ballad appears to be a portion. This poem is 
 printed in Mr Finlay's collection, accompanied with some sensible re- 
 marks. 
 
 As I was walking mine alane, 
 Betwixt the water and the wa ; 
 
 There I spied a wee, wee man, 
 
 He was the least ane that e'er I saw. 
 
 His leg was scarce a shaftmont lang, 
 Both thick and nimble was his knee' ; ^ 
 
344 
 
 Between his e'en there was a span 
 
 Betwixt his shoulders there were ells three. 
 
 This wee, wee man pulled up a stane, 
 He flang't as far as I could see ; 
 
 Thougli I had been as Wallace Strang, 
 I wadna gotten it up to my knee. 
 
 I said, " wee man, oh ! but you're Strang, 
 Where is your dwelling, or where may't be?" 
 
 " My dwelling's at yon bonnie green, 
 Fair lady will ye go and see." 
 
 On we lap and awa we rade, 
 
 Until we cam to yonder green ; 
 We lighted down to rest our steed, 
 
 And there came out a lady sheen, 
 
 Wi' four and twenty at her back. 
 
 And they were a' weel clad in green ; 
 
 Although he had been the king of Scotland, 
 The warst o' them might hae been his queen. 
 
 So on we lap and awa we rade, 
 Til] we came to yon bonnie hall ; 
 
345 
 
 The ratiers were o' the beaten gold, 
 And silver wire were the kebars all. 
 
 There were pipers playing in every neuk, 
 And ladies dancing jimp and sma' ; 
 
 And ave the owreturn o' their tune, 
 
 ^Vas — our wee, wee man has been lang 
 awa ! 
 
 * Fariation. — His legs they were na a gude inch lang 
 And thick and nimble was his thie. 
 
 * The two last lines of the printed copies differ from these; but I 
 never have found their reading sanctioned by a recited copy of any anti- 
 quity. 
 
 YOUNG BEARWELL 
 
 Is a fragment, and now printed in the hope that the remainder of it may 
 hereafter be recovered. From circumstances, one would almost be inclined 
 to trace it to a Danish source ; or it may be an episode of some forgotten 
 Metrical Romance, but this cannot satisfactorily be ascertained, from its 
 ratastrophe being unfortunately wanting, 
 
 XLIV. 2 X 
 
346 
 
 When two lovers love each other weel, 
 Great sin it were them to twinn ; 
 
 And this I speak from young Bearwell, 
 He loved a lady ying, 
 
 The Mayor's daugliter of Birktoun-brae, 
 That lovely liesome thing. 
 
 One day when she was looking out, 
 When washing her milk-white hands, 
 
 That she beheld him young Bearwell, 
 As he came in the sands. 
 
 Says — wae's me for you young Bearwell, 
 
 Such tales of you are tauld ; 
 They'll cause you sail the salt sea so far, 
 
 As beyond Yorkisfauld. 
 
 Oh ! shall I bide in good green wood. 
 
 Or stay in bower with thee ? 
 The leaves are thick in good green wood. 
 
 Would hold you from the rain ; 
 And if you stay in bower with me. 
 
 You will be taken and slain. 
 
347 
 
 But I caused build a ship for you, 
 Upon Saint Innocent's day ; 
 
 I'll bid Saint Innocent be your guide, 
 And our lady that meikle may. 
 
 You are a lady's first true love, 
 God carry you weel away ! 
 
 Then he sailed east and he sailed west, 
 By many a comely strand ; 
 
 At length a pufF of northern wind. 
 Did blow him to the land. 
 
 When he did see the king and court. 
 
 Were playing at the ba' ; 
 Gave him a harp into his hand, 
 
 Says — stay Bearwell and play. 
 
 He had not been in the king's court, 
 
 A twelvemonth and a day ; 
 Till there came lairds and lords enew. 
 
 To court that lady gay. 
 
 They wooed her with broach and ring. 
 They nothing could keep back. 
 
348 
 
 The very charters of their lands, 
 Into her hands they pat. 
 
 She's done her down to Heyvahn, 
 
 With the Hght of the mune ; 
 Says — will ye do this deed for me, 
 
 And will ye do it sune ? 
 
 Will ye go seek him young Bearwell, 
 
 On seas wherever he be ? 
 And if I live and bruik my life, 
 
 Rewarded ye shall be. 
 
 Alas I am too young a skipper, 
 
 So far to sail the faem ; 
 But if I live and bruik my life. 
 
 ril strive to bring him hame. 
 
 So he has sail'd east and then sail'd west, 
 
 By many a comely strand; 
 Till there came a blast of northern wind, 
 
 And blew him to the land. 
 
 And there the king and all his court, 
 Were playing at the ba', 
 
349 
 
 Gave him a harp into his hand, 
 Says — stay Heyvalin and play. 
 
 He has tane up the harp in hand, 
 
 And unto play went he ; 
 And young Bearwell was the first man, 
 
 In all that companie. 
 
 ***** 
 
 LORD DERWENTWATER. 
 
 This is a Jacobite ballad, and refers to the fate of the unfortunate Earl 
 of Derwentwater, who suffered for high treason, in the ill-concerted rising 
 of 1715. It is given ft-om recitation. In the " remains of Nithsdale and 
 Galloway song/' is a fi-agnaent, entitled " Derwentwater/' said " to be 
 taken from the recitation of a young girl in the parish of Kirkbean, Gallo- 
 way," — information as precise as one could reasonably look for, in things of 
 this sort ; but the character which that work has unhappily, but justly, gain- 
 ed for its literary impositions, precludes one fiom placing any reliance on its 
 statements. The same fragment is again paraded in Mr Allan Cunning- 
 ham's " songs of Scotland," without the slightest allusion being made to 
 the fact of its being from first to last, a production of his own pen. Now, 
 though it is readily granted, that the poem in question is not so good as 
 some others which the author has written in a similar vein ; at the same 
 time, it must be observed, that, thus to impose on the ignorant and the cre- 
 dulous, by giving as the productions of another age, that which be feels re- 
 
350 
 
 luctant te father as his own bantling, is in itself uncandid and altogether be- 
 neath the noble-mindedness of genius. Of the Lord Derwentwater^ Ritson 
 has preserved a song va.\i\^ Northumberland Garland, in no degi'ee more poe- 
 tical than the following homely strain. The name given to his lordship !»y 
 the old woman, from whom the ballad was received, is retained in the text. 
 The Editor has been favoured by Mr Shai-pe with another copy of the bal- 
 lad, containing a few variations not of much importance. 
 
 Our King has wrote a long letter, 
 And sealed it ower with gold ; 
 
 He sent it to my lord Dunwaters, 
 To read it if he could. 
 
 He has not sent it with a boy, 
 
 Nor with any Scots lord ; 
 But he's sent it with the noblest knight. 
 
 E'er Scotland could afford. 
 
 The very first line that my lord did read, 
 
 He gave a smirkling smile ; 
 Before he had the half of it read, 
 
 The tears from his eyes did fall. 
 
 " Come saddle to me my horse," he said, 
 " Come saddle to me with speed ; 
 
UNfV „ 
 
 351 
 
 < IF 
 
 For I must away to fair London town, 
 For to me there was ne'er more need." 
 
 Out and spoke his lady gay, 
 
 In child bed where she lay ; 
 " I would have you make your will, my lord 
 Dunwaters, 
 
 Before you go away.*' 
 
 " I leave to you, my eldest son. 
 
 My houses and my land ; 
 I leave to you, my youngest son, 
 
 Ten thousand pounds in hand. 
 
 " I leave to you, my lady gay. 
 
 You are my wedded wife ; 
 I leave to you, the third of my estate. 
 
 That'll keep you in a lady's life." 
 
 They had not rode a mile but one, 
 
 Till his horse fell owre a stane ; 
 " Its a warning, good enough," my lord Dun- 
 waters said, 
 
 " Alive I'll ne'er come hame." 
 
352 
 
 When they came to fair London town, 
 
 Into the courtier's hall ; 
 The lords and knights of fair London town, 
 
 Did him a traitor call. 
 
 " A traitor, a traitor," says my lord, 
 
 " A traitor how can that be ? 
 An it be nae for the keeping five thousand 
 men, 
 
 To fight for King Jamie. 
 
 " O all you lords and knights in fair London 
 town. 
 Come out and see me die ; 
 O all you lords and knights in fair London 
 town, 
 Be kind to my ladie. 
 
 " There's fifty pounds in my right pocket. 
 
 Divide it to the poor ; 
 There's other fifty in my left pocket. 
 
 Divide it from door to door." 
 
353 
 
 THE JOLLY GOSHAWK 
 
 Is a less complete version of The Gay Goshawk, a ballad of considerable 
 beauty, which first appeared in the Border Minstrelsy. 
 
 " O well is me my Jolly Goshawk, 
 
 That ye can speak and flee ; 
 For ye can carry a love letter, 
 
 To my true love from me." 
 
 " Oh how can I carry a letter to her, 
 
 When her I do not know ; 
 I bear the lips to her never spak, 
 
 And the eyes that her never saw." 
 
 ." The thing of my love's face that's white, 
 
 Is that of dove or maw; 
 The thing of my love's face that's red. 
 
 Is like blood shed on snaw. 
 
 " And when you come to the castel. 
 Light on the bush of ash ; 
 
 XLV. 2 Y 
 
354 
 
 And sit you there and sing our loves, 
 As she comes from the mass. 
 
 " And when she gaes into the house, 
 Sit ye upon the whin ; •'' 
 
 And sit you there and sing our loves, 
 As she goes out and in." 
 
 And when he flew to that castel, 
 
 He lighted on the ash ; 
 And there he sat and sung their loves, 
 
 As she came from the mass. 
 
 And when she went into the house, 
 
 He flew unto the whin ; 
 And there he sat and sung their loves. 
 
 As she went out and in. 
 
 " Come hitherward my maidens all, 
 
 And sip red wine anon ; 
 Till I go to my west window, 
 
 And hear a birdie's moan." 
 
 She's gane unto her west window. 
 And fainly aye it drew ; 
 
355 
 
 And soon into her white silk lap, , 
 The bird the letter threw. 
 
 " Yere bidden send jour love a send, 
 
 For he has sent you twa ; 
 And tell him where he can see you, 
 
 Or he cannot live ava." 
 
 " I send him the rings from my white fingers, 
 
 The garlands off my hair ; 
 I send him the heart that's in my breast. 
 
 What would my love have mair ; 
 And at the fourth kirk in fair Scotland, 
 
 Ye'll bid him meet me there." 
 
 I 
 
 She hied her to her father dear, 
 
 As fast as gang could she ; 
 " An asking, an asking, my father dear, 
 
 An asking ye grant me. 
 That if I die in fair England, 
 
 In Scotland gar bury me. 
 
 " At the first kirk of fair Scotland, 
 You cause the bells be rung ; 
 
356 
 
 At the second kirk of fair Scotland, 
 You cause the mass be sunp-. 
 
 " At the third kirk of fair Scotland, 
 
 You deal gold for my sake, ' 
 And at the fourth kirk of fair Scotland, 
 
 Oh ! there you'll bury me at. 
 
 " And now, my tender father dear. 
 
 This asking grant you me ;" 
 " Your asking is but small," he said, 
 
 " Weel granted it shall be." 
 
 QThe lady asks the same boon and receives a similar answer, first from 
 her mother, then from her sister, and lastly from her seven brothers.] 
 
 Then down as dead that lady drapp'd, 
 
 Beside her mother's knee ; 
 Then out it spak an auld witch wife. 
 
 By the fire side sat she. 
 
 Says — " drap the het lead on her cheek. 
 
 And drap it on her chin ; 
 And drap it on her rose red lips, 
 . And she will speak again ; 
 
357 
 
 For much a lady young will do, 
 To her true love to win." 
 
 They drapp'd the het lead on her cheek, 
 
 So did they on her chin ; 
 They drapp'd it on her red rose lips, 
 
 But they breathed none again. 
 
 Her brothers they went to a room, 
 
 To make to her a bier ; 
 The boards of it were cedar wood, 
 
 And the plates on it gold so clear. 
 
 Her sisters they went to a room. 
 
 To make to her a sark ; 
 The cloth of it was satin fine, 
 
 And the steeking silken wark. 
 
 " But well is me my Jolly Goshawk, 
 
 That ye can speak and flee ; 
 Come shew to me any love tokens. 
 
 That you have brought to me." 
 
 " She sends you the rings from her fingers, 
 The garlands from her hair ; 
 
358 
 
 She sends you the heart within her breast, 
 And what would you have mair ; 
 
 And at the fourth kirk of fair Scotland^ 
 She bids you meet her there." 
 
 " Come hither all my merry young men, 
 And drink the good red wine ; 
 
 For we must on to fair England, 
 To free my love from pine." 
 
 At the first kirk of fair Scotland, 
 
 They gart the bells be rung ; 
 At the second kirk of fair Scotland, 
 
 They gart the mass be sung. 
 
 At the third kirk of fair Scotland, 
 They dealt gold for her sake ; 
 
 And the fourth kirk of fair Scotland, 
 Her true love met them at. 
 
 " Set down, set down the corpse," he said, 
 
 " Till I look on the dead ; 
 The last time that I saw her face, 
 
 She ruddy was and red ; 
 
359 
 
 But now alas, and woe is me, 
 She's wallowed like a weed." 
 
 He rent the sheet upon her face, 
 
 A little aboon her chin ; 
 With lily white cheek, and lemin' eyne. 
 
 She lookt and laugh'd to him. 
 
 " Give me a chive of your bread, my love, 
 
 A bottle of your wine ; 
 For I have fasted for your love, 
 
 These weary lang days nine ; 
 There's not a steed in your stable, 
 
 But would have been dead ere syne. 
 
 " Gae hame, gae hame my seven brothers, 
 Gae hame and blaw the horn ; 
 
 For you can say in the south of England, 
 Your sister gave you a scorn. 
 
 " I came not here to fair Scotland, 
 
 To lye amang the meal ; 
 But I came here to fair Scotland, 
 
 To wear the silks so week 
 
360 
 
 " I came not here to fair Scotland, 
 To lye amang the dead ; 
 
 But I came here to fair Scotland, 
 To wear the gold so red." 
 
 GYPSIE DAVY. 
 
 This copy of the populai" ballad, which generally goes under the title of 
 Johnie Faa, or the Gypsie Laddie, was obtained from the recitation of an 
 oW woman, and, as it contains some additional particulars, not to be found 
 in any copy hitherto printed, so far as known to the editor, it has found a 
 place in this collection. Mr Finlay has been at some pains in gathering the 
 notices which tradition has preserved of this fair lady's delinquency, and of 
 her di'eary penance in the tower of Maybole. 
 
 There came Singers to Earl Cassillis' gates, 
 And oh but they sang bonnie ; 
 
 They sang sae sweet and sae complete. 
 Till down came the Earl's lady. 
 
 She came tripping down the stair, 
 And all her maids before her ; 
 
361 
 
 As soon as they saw her weel laur'd face, 
 They coost their glamourye ower her. 
 
 They gave her o' the gude sweet meats, 
 
 The nutmeg and the ginger ; 
 And she gi'ed them a far better thing. 
 
 Ten gowd rings aff her finger. 
 
 " Come witli me, my bonnie Jeanie Faw, 
 
 O come with me, my dearie ; 
 For I do swear by the head o' my spear, 
 
 Thy glide lord '11 nae mair come near thee." 
 
 " Tak from me my silken cloak, 
 And bring me down my plaidie ; 
 
 For it is good and good eneuch. 
 To follow a Gypsie Davy. 
 
 " Yestreen I rode this water deep, 
 
 And my gude lord beside me ; 
 But this night I maun set in my pretty fit and 
 
 wade, 
 A wheen blackguards wading wi' me. 
 
 XLVI. ^ ^ 
 
362 
 
 ** Yestreen I lay in a fine feather bed, 
 
 And my gude lord beyond me, 
 But this night I maun lye in some cauld te- 
 nant's barn, 
 
 A wheen blackguards waiting on me." 
 
 " Come to thy bed, my bonnie Jeanie Faw, 
 
 Come to thy bed, my dearie ; 
 For I do swear by the head o' my spear, 
 
 Thy gune lord '11 nae mair come near thee. 
 
 )> 
 
 " I'll go to bed," the lady she said, 
 
 " I'll go to bed to my dearie ; 
 For I do swear by the fan in my hand. 
 
 That my lord shall nae mair come near me. 
 
 " I'll mak a hap,'* the lady she said, 
 
 " I'll mak a hap to my dearie ; 
 And he's get a' this petticoat gaes round, 
 
 And my lord shall nae mair come near me. 
 
 When her gude lord came hame at night, 
 He Was asking for his lady ; 
 
 5> 
 
363 
 
 One spake slow, and another whispered low, 
 " She's awa wi' Gypsie Davy." 
 
 " Come saddle to me my horse," he said; 
 
 " Come saddle and make him ready ; 
 For I'll neither sleep, eat, nor drink, 
 
 Till I find out my lady." 
 
 Tliey sought her up, they sought her down, 
 
 They sought her thro' nations many ; 
 Till at lenoth thev found her out in bonnie 
 
 Abbaydale, 
 Drinking wi' Gypsie Davy. 
 
 " Rise, O Rise ! my bonnie Jeanie Faw ; 
 
 O Rise, and do not tarry : 
 Is this the thing that ye promised to me, 
 
 When at first I did thee marry ? 
 
 ?j 
 
 They drunk her cloak, so did they her gown, 
 They drunk her stockings and her shoon, 
 
 And they drunk the coat that was neist to her 
 smock, 
 And they pawned her pearled apron. 
 
364 
 
 They were sixteen clever men, 
 Suppose they were nae bonnie ; 
 
 They are to be a' hanged on ae day, 
 For the steahno; o' Earl Cassillis ladv. 
 
 "We are sixteen clever men. 
 One woman was a' our mother ; 
 
 We are a' to be hanged on ae day, 
 For the stealing of a wanton lady." 
 
 WILLIE WALLACE. 
 
 This version of a popular ballad which has been successively printed in 
 Johnson's Museum, Jamieson's Old Ballads^ and Findlay's Ballads, is taken 
 from Gleanings of Scaixe Old Ballads. Peterhead. 1825. The Editor of that 
 work states it to be given from the recitation of an Itinerant Tinker and Gyp- 
 sey. We prefer it to the copy preserved in the Museum. The reader will 
 find the subject of the ballad in the 5th Book of Henry the Minstrel's Metri- 
 cal Life of Walays. 
 
 Wallace in the high highlans. 
 Neither meat nor drink got he, 
 
3o5 
 
 Said fa me lite, or fli' me death, 
 Now to some town I maun be. 
 
 He's put on his short claiding, 
 And on his short claiding put he, 
 
 Says fa me life, or fa me death. 
 Now to Perth-town I maun be. 
 
 He stepped o'er the river Tay, 
 
 I wat he stepped on dry land ; 
 He wasna aware of a well-faured maid 
 
 Was washing there her lilie hands. 
 
 Wliat news, what news, ye well-faured maid ? 
 
 What news hae ye this day to me ? 
 No news, no news, ye gentle knight. 
 
 No news hae I this day to thee, 
 But fifteen lords in the hostage house 
 
 Waiting Wallace for to see. 
 
 If I had but in my pocket 
 
 The worth of one single pennie, 
 
 I would go to the hostage house, ,., 
 And there the gentlemen to see. 
 
366 
 
 Slie put her hand in her pocket, 
 
 And she has pull'd out half-a-crown, 
 
 Says, take ye that ye belted knight, 
 'Twill pay your way till ye come down. 
 
 As he went from the well-faured maid, 
 
 A beggar bold I wat met he, 
 Was cover'd wi' a clouted cloak. 
 
 And in his hand a trusty tree. 
 
 What news, what news, ye silly auld man 
 What news hae ye this day to gie ? 
 
 No news, no news, ye belted knight. 
 No news hae I this day to thee, 
 
 But fifteen lords in the hostage house 
 Waiting Wallace for to see. 
 
 Ye'll lend me your clouted cloak 
 That covers you frae head to shie, 
 
 And I'll go to the hostage house, 
 Asking there for some supplie. 
 
 Now he's gone to the West-muir wood, 
 And there he pull'd a trusty tree. 
 
And then he's on to the hostage gone, 
 Asking there for charitie. 
 
 Down the stair the Captain comes 
 
 Aye the poor man for to see; 
 Tf ye be a Captain as good as ye look, 
 
 Ye'll give a poor man some supplie ; 
 If ye be a Captain as good as ye look, 
 
 A guinea, this day, ye'll gie to me. 
 
 Where were ye born, ye crooked carle? 
 
 Where were ye born, in what countrie ? 
 In fair Scotland I was born, 
 
 Crooked carle that I be. 
 
 I would give you fifty pounds, 
 
 Of gold and white monie; 
 I would give you fifty pounds. 
 
 If the traitor Wallace ye'd let me see. 
 
 Tell down your money, said Willie Wallace, 
 Tell down your money, if it be good, 
 
 I'm sure I have it in my power. 
 And never had a better bode. 
 
n 
 
 368 
 
 ell down yonr money if it be good, 
 And let me see if it be fine, 
 I'm sure I have it in my power, 
 To bring the traitor Wallace in. 
 
 The money was told on the table, 
 
 Silver bright of pounds fiftie ; 
 Now here I stand, said Willie Wallace, 
 
 And what hae ye to say to me ? 
 
 He slew the captain where he stood. 
 The rest they did quack an roar; 
 
 He slew the rest around the room, 
 And ask'd if there were any more. 
 
 Come cover the table, said Willie Wallace, 
 Come cover the table now, make haste. 
 
 For it will soon be three lang days 
 Sin I a bit o' meat did taste. 
 
 The table was not well covered, 
 Nor yet had he set down to dine. 
 
 Till fifteen more of the English lords > 
 Surrounded the house where he was in. 
 
369 
 
 The guidwife she ran butt the floor, 
 And aye the guidman heran ben ; 
 
 From eight o'clock till four at noon, 
 He has kill'd full thirty men. 
 
 He put the house in sick a swither. 
 That five o' them he sticket dead ; 
 
 Five o' them he drown'd in the river, 
 And five hung in the West-muir wood. 
 
 Now he is on, to the North-Inch gone, 
 Where the maid was washing tenderlie ; 
 
 Now by my sooth, said Willie Wallace, 
 It's been a sair day's wark to me. 
 
 He's put his hand in his pocket. 
 
 And he has pull'd out twenty pounds, 
 
 Says, tak ye that, ye weel-fared maid. 
 For the gude luck of your half-crown. 
 
 X.LVI. 
 
370 
 
 SWEET WILEIE AND LADY MARGERIE. 
 
 This Ballad which possesses considerable beauty and pathos, is given 
 from the recitation of a lady now far advanced in years, with whose grand- 
 mother it was a deserved favourite. It is now for the first time printed. 
 It bears some resemblance to Clerk Saunders. 
 
 Sweet Willie was a widow's son, 
 And he wore a milk-white weed O; 
 
 And weel could Willie read and write, 
 Far better ride on steed O. 
 
 Lady Margerie was the first ladye, 
 
 That drank to him the wine O ; 
 And aye as the healths gaed round and round, 
 
 " Laddy, your love is mine O." 
 
 Lady Margerie was the first ladye, 
 
 That drank to him the beer O ; 
 And aye as the healths gaed round and round, 
 
 " Laddy ye're welcome here O" 
 
37J 
 
 " You must come intill my bower, 
 When the evening bells do ring O ; 
 
 And you must come intill my bower, 
 When the evening mass doth sing O." 
 
 He's taen four-and-twenty braid arrows, 
 And laced them in a whang O ; 
 
 And he's awa to Lady Margerie's bower. 
 As fast as he can gang O. 
 
 He set his ae foot on the wa'. 
 And the other on a stane O ; 
 
 And he's kill'd a' the King's life guards, 
 He's kill'd them everv man O. 
 
 " Oh open, open. Lady Margerie, 
 
 Open and let me in O ; 
 The weet weets a' my yellow hair, 
 And the dew draps on my chin O." 
 
 With her feet as white as sleet, 
 She strode her bower within O ; 
 
 And with her fingers lang and sma', 
 She's looten sweet Willie in O. 
 
372 
 
 She's louted down unto his foot, 
 
 To lowze sweet Willie's shoon O ; 
 The buckles were sae stiff they wadna lowze. 
 
 The blood had frozen in O. 
 
 '\ 
 " O Willie, O Willie, I fear that thou 
 
 Hast bred me dule and sorrow; 
 The deed that thou hast done this nicht, 
 
 Will kytlie upon the morrow." 
 
 In then came her father dear. 
 
 And a braid sword by. his gare O ; 
 
 And he's gien Willie, the widow's son, 
 A deep wound and a sair O. 
 
 " Lye yont, lye yont, Willie," she says, 
 " Your sweat weets a' my side O ; 
 
 Lye yont, lye yont, Willie," she says, 
 " For your sweat I downa bide O." 
 
 She turned her back unto the wa'. 
 
 Her face unto the room O ; 
 And there she saw her auld father, 
 
 Fast walking up and doun O. 
 
373 
 
 " Woe be to you, father," she said, 
 " And an ill deid may you die O ; 
 
 For ye've kill'd Willie, the widow's son, 
 And he would have married me O." 
 
 She turned her back unto the room, 
 
 Her face unto the wa' O ; 
 And with a deep and heavy sich, 
 
 Her heart it brak it twa O. 
 
 KEMP OWYNE. 
 
 The subject of this ballad will be familiar to the Reader in the other ver- 
 sions of it which have been published, namely, The Laidley worm of Spind- 
 leston Heugh, (see Ritson's Northund)erland Garland,) and Kempion, (see 
 Border Minstrelsy, Vol. 3). For stories relative to monstrous worms and 
 achievements similar to that described in the Ballad, the reader is referred to 
 the valuable illustrations which accompany Kempion in the last mentioned 
 work. The present version is from recitation. From the air to which it 
 is sung being similar to that of the ludicrous Song of Kempy Kay, or 
 Kempy Kane, (a copy of which is preserved in the Ballad Book,) one would 
 be inclined to believe that the latter was a burlesque of tlie serious ballad. 
 Ringing these merry changes ou sad metres was no uncommon usage among 
 
374 
 
 the Northeru Minstrels, of this Mr Jamieson has produced several instances 
 in his interesting translations from the Danish Ballads. 
 
 Her mother died when she was young, 
 
 Which gave lier cause to make great moan ; 
 
 Her father married the warst woman, 
 That ever Hved in Christendom. 
 
 She served her with foot and hand, 
 In every thing that she could dee; 
 
 Till once in an unlucky time. 
 
 She threw her in ower Craigy's sea. 
 
 Says, " Lie you there, dove Isabel, 
 And all my sorrows lie with thee ; 
 
 Till Kemp Owyne come ower the sea, 
 And borrow you with kisses three, 
 
 Let all the warld do what they will, 
 Oh borrowed shall you never be." 
 
 Her breath grew Strang, her hair grew lang, 
 And twisted thrice about the tree. 
 
375 
 
 And all the people far and near, 
 
 Thought that a savage beast was she ; 
 
 Thir news did come to Kemp Owjne, 
 Where he lived far beyond the sea. 
 
 He hasted him to Craigy's sea, 
 
 And on the savage beast look'd he ; 
 
 Her breath was Strang, her hair was lang, 
 And twisted was about the tree; 
 
 And with a swing, she came about, 
 
 " Come to Craigy's sea and kiss with me. 
 
 " Here is a royal belt," she cried, 
 " That I have found in the green sea, 
 
 And while your body it is on. 
 
 Drawn shall your blood never be, 
 
 But if you touch me tail or fin, 
 
 I vow my belt your death shall be." 
 
 He stepped in, gave her a kiss. 
 
 The Royal belt he brought him wi', 
 Her breath was Strang, her hair waslang^ 
 
 And twisted twice about the tree ; 
 
376 
 
 And with a swing she came about, 
 
 " Come to Craigy's sea and kiss with me. 
 
 " Here is a royal ring," she said, 
 
 " That I have found in the green sea; 
 
 And while your finger it is on, 
 
 Drawn shall your blood never be j 
 
 But if you touch me tail or fin, 
 
 I swear my ring your death shall be." 
 
 He stepped in, gave her a kiss, 
 
 The royal ring he brought him wi'; 
 
 Her breath was Strang, her hair was lang, 
 And twisted ance around the tree ; 
 
 And with a swing she came about, 
 
 "Come to Craigy's sea and kiss with me.' 
 
 " Here is a royal brand," she said. 
 That I have found in the green sea ; 
 
 And while your body it is on, 
 Drawn shall your blood never be, 
 
 But if you touch me tail or fin, 
 
 I swear my brand your death shall be.'' 
 
377 
 
 He stepped in gave lier a kiss, 
 
 The Royal brand he brought him wi', 
 
 Her breath was sweet her hair grew short, 
 And twisted nane about the tree; 
 
 And smilingly she came about, 
 As fair a woman as fair could be. 
 
 EARL RICHARD. 
 
 The locality of tins ballad, Barnisdale, will bring to the remembrance 
 of the reader, tales of Robin Hood and Little John, who, according to the 
 testimony of that venerable chronicler, Andrew of WyutowDj 
 " In Yngilwode and Bainysdale, 
 
 Their oysed all this tyme thare travaile." 
 Whether the ballad is originally the production of an English, or of a Scotch 
 Minstrel admits of question, certain, however, it is, that it has been received 
 into both countries at a pretty early period. Heame in his preface to Gul. 
 Neubrigiensis Historia, Oxon. 1719, Vol. 1. p. Ixx, mentions, that the 
 Knight and Shepherd's daughter was well known in the time of Queen Eli- 
 zabeth. In Fletcher's Pilgrim, Act 4, Scene 2, a stanza of the same ballad 
 is quoted. The English version of this ballad is given in the Reliques of 
 English Poetry, vol. 3. There are various copies of it current in Scotland. 
 The present version obtained from recitation in one of the northern counties 
 is out of sight, the most circumstantial and elaborated that has yet been 
 printed. It possesses no small portion of humour, and appears to be of 
 greater antiquity than the copy published in the Reliques. In one of the 
 recited copies of this ballad. Earl Richaid endeavours to shake the lady's 
 conviction of his identity by using the same meaus as the Gaberlunzie man 
 who sang : — 
 
 xLvir. 3 B 
 
378 
 
 " I'll bow my leg, and crook my knee, 
 And draw a black clout owi'e my e'e, 
 A cripple or blind they will ca' me." 
 But the eyes of love were too sharp to be deceived by such witty devices, for 
 as the ballad has it, when 
 
 " He came hirplin' on a stick. 
 And leanin' on a tree," 
 The lady with a hasty voice in the face of all the court immediately cries 
 out 
 
 " Be he cripple, or be he blind, 
 The same man is he ! 
 
 With my low silver e'e." 
 Earl Richard's unbridegroomlike behaviour on his wedding night, and his 
 agreeable discovery on the morrow, will remind the ballad reader of the 
 gentle Sir Gawaine who, when reluctantly turning round to caress his lothly 
 bride, much to his joy and contentment found her transformed into a 
 most lovesome lady. 
 
 Earl Richard once on a day, 
 
 And all his valiant men so wight ; 
 
 He did him down to Barnisdale, 
 Where all the land is fair and light. 
 
 He was aware of a damosel, 
 
 I wot fast on she did her bound, 
 
 With towers of gold upon her head. 
 As fair a woman as could be found. 
 
 He said, " Busk on you, fair ladye, 
 The white flowers and the red ; 
 
379 
 
 For I would give my bonnie ship, 
 To get your maidenhead." 
 
 " I wish your bonnie ship rent and rive, 
 
 And dro^vn you in the sea ; 
 For all this would not mend the miss, 
 
 That ye would do to me." 
 " The miss is not so great ladye. 
 
 Soon mended it might be. 
 
 " I have four and twenty mills in Scotland 
 
 Stands on the w^ater Tay ; 
 You'll have them and as much flour 
 
 As they'll grind in a day." 
 
 " I wish your bonnie ship rent and rive, 
 
 And drown you in the sea ; 
 For all that would not mend the miss. 
 
 That ye would do for me." 
 " The miss is not so great lady, 
 
 Soon mended it will be. 
 
 " I have four and twenty milk white cows, 
 All calved in a day ; 
 
380 
 
 You'll have them and as much hained grass 
 As they all on can gae." 
 
 " I wish your bonnie ship rent and rive, 
 And drown ye in the sea ; 
 
 For all that would not mend the miss. 
 
 That ye would do to me." 
 " The miss is not so great ladye. 
 
 Soon mended it might be. 
 
 " I have four and twenty milk white steeds, 
 
 All foaled in one year ; 
 You'll have them and as much red gold, 
 
 As all their backs can bear." 
 
 She turned her right and round about. 
 
 And she swore by the mold, 
 " I would not be your love," said she, 
 
 " For that church full of gold." 
 
 He turned him right and round about, 
 
 And he swore by the mass. 
 Says, — " lady ye my love shall be, 
 
 And gold ye shall have less." 
 
881 
 
 She turned her right and round about, 
 And she swore by the moon, 
 
 " I would not be your love," says she, 
 " For all the gold in Rome." 
 
 He turned him right and round about, 
 And he swore by the moon, 
 
 Says, — " lady, ye my love shall be, 
 And gold ye shall have none." 
 
 He caught her by the milk white hand. 
 And by the grass green sleeve ; 
 
 And there has taken his will of her, 
 Wholly without her leave. 
 
 The lady frowned and sadly blushed, 
 And oh ! but she thought shame; 
 
 Says, — " if you are a knight at all. 
 You surely will tell me your name. 
 
 " In some places they call me Jack, 
 
 In other some they call me John ; 
 But when into the Queen's Court, 
 Oh then Lithcock it is my name.'* 
 
 »> 
 
382 
 
 " Lithcock ! Lithcock !" the lady said, 
 And oft she spelt it over again ; 
 
 " Lithcock ! it's Latin," the lady said, 
 " Richard's the English of that name." 
 
 The Knight he rode, the lady ran, 
 
 A live long summer's day ; 
 Till they came to the wan water. 
 
 That all men do call Tay. 
 
 He set his horse head to the water, 
 
 Just thro' it for to ride; 
 And the lady was as ready as him, 
 
 The waters for to wade. 
 
 For he had never been as kind hearted, 
 
 As to bid the lady ride ; 
 And she had never been so low hearted, 
 
 As for to bid him bide. 
 
 But deep into the wan water 
 There stands a great big stone ; 
 
 He turned his wight horse head about, 
 Said lady fair will ye loup on ? 
 
383 
 
 She's taken the wand was in her hand, 
 
 And struck it on the foam, 
 And before he got the middle stream, 
 
 The lady was on dry land. 
 " By help of God and our Lady, 
 
 My help lyes not in your hand." 
 
 « I learned it from my mother dear, 
 Few is there that has learned better ; 
 
 When I came to a deep water, 
 I can swim thro' like ony otter. 
 
 « I learned it from my mother dear, 
 I find I learned it for my weel ; 
 
 When I came to a deep water, 
 I can swim thro' like ony eel." 
 
 " Turn back, turn back, you lady fair, 
 You know not what I see -, 
 
 There is a lady in that castle, 
 That will burn you and me." 
 
 « Betide me weal, betide me wae, 
 That lady will I see." 
 
384 
 
 She took a ring from her finger, 
 And gave't the porter for his fee ; 
 
 Says, " tak you that, my good porter, 
 And bid the queen speak to me." 
 
 And when she came before the queen. 
 There she fell low down on her knee; 
 
 Says, " there is a knight into your court, 
 This day has robbed me." 
 
 " Oh, has he robbed you of your gold, 
 Or has he robbed you of your fee ;" 
 
 " He has not robbed me of my gold. 
 He has not robbed me of my fee ; 
 
 He has robbed me of my maidenhead. 
 The fairest flower of my bodie." 
 
 " There is no knight in all my court. 
 
 That thus has robbed thee ; 
 But you'll have the truth of his right hand. 
 
 Or else for your sake he'll die ;" 
 Tho' it were Earl Richard, my own brother, 
 
 And oh ! forbid that it be ;" 
 Then, sighing, said the lady fair, 
 
 " I wot the samen man is he." 
 
385 
 
 The queen called on her merry men, 
 
 Even fifty men and three; 
 Earl Richard used to be the first man, 
 
 But now, the hindmost was he. 
 
 He's taken out one hundred pounds, 
 
 And told it in his glove ; 
 Says, " tak you that, my lady fair, 
 
 And seek another love." 
 
 " Oh no, oh no," the lady cried, 
 " That's what shall never be ; 
 
 I'll have the truth of your right hand. 
 The queen it gave to me." 
 
 " I wish I had drunk of your water, sister. 
 When I did drink your wine ; 
 
 That for a carle's fair daughter, 
 It does gar me dree all this pine." 
 
 " May be I am a carle's daughter, 
 
 And may be never nane ; 
 When ye met me in the green wood, 
 Why did you not let me alane ?" 
 xLvni. 3 c 
 
386 
 
 " Will you wear the short clothes, 
 
 Or will you wear the side, 
 Or will you walk to your wedding. 
 
 Or will you till it ride ?" 
 
 " I will not wear the short clothes, 
 
 But I will wear the side; 
 I will not walk to my wedding, 
 
 But I to it will ride." 
 
 When he was set upon the horse. 
 
 The lady him behind ; 
 Then cauld and eerie were the words, 
 
 The twa had them between. 
 
 She said, *' Good een, ye nettles tall, 
 Just there where ye grow at the dike. 
 
 If the auld carline my mother was here, 
 Sae weel's she would your pates pike. 
 
 " How she would stap you in her poke, 
 I wot at that she wadna fail ; 
 
 And boil ye in her auld brass pan. 
 And of ye mak right gude kail. 
 
387 
 
 " And she would meal you with millering, 
 That she gathers at the mill ; 
 
 And mak you thick as any daigh, 
 And when the pan was brimful 
 
 " Would mess you up in scuttle dishes, 
 Syne bid us sup till we were fou, 
 
 Lay down his head upon a poke, 
 Then sleep and snore like any sow.'' 
 
 " Away ! away ! you bad woman, 
 For all your vile words grieveth me ; 
 
 When ye heed so little for yourself, 
 Fm sure ye'll heed far less for me. 
 
 " I wish I had drunk your water, sister. 
 When that I did drink of your wine ; 
 
 Since for a carle's fair daughter, 
 It aye gars me dree all this pine." 
 
 " May be I am a carle's daughter. 
 
 And may be never nane ; 
 \VTien ye met me in the good green wood, 
 
 Why did you not let me alane ? 
 
388 
 
 " Glide e'en, gude e'en, ye heather berries, 
 As ye're growing on yon hill ; 
 
 If the auld carle and his bags were here, 
 I wot he would get meat his fill. 
 
 *' Late, late, at night I knit our pokes, 
 With even four-and-twenty knots ; 
 
 And in the morn at breakfast time, 
 I'll carry the keys of an earl's locks. 
 
 " Late, late, at night I knit our pokes, 
 With even four-and-twenty strings ; 
 
 And if you look to my white fingers. 
 They have as many gay gold rings." 
 
 *' Away ! away ! ye ill woman. 
 
 And sore your vile words grieveth me ; 
 
 When you heed so little for yourself, 
 I'm sure ye'll heed far less for me. 
 
 " But if you are a carle's daughter. 
 
 As I take you to be ; 
 How did you get the gay clothing, 
 
 In greenwood ye had on thee ?" 
 
389 
 
 " Mv mother she's a poor woman, 
 She nursed earFs children three ; 
 
 And I get them from a foster sister, 
 For to beguile such sparks as thee." 
 
 " But if you be a carle's daughter, 
 
 As I believe you be ; 
 How did ye learn the good Latin, 
 
 In green wood ye spoke to me ?" 
 
 " My mother she's a mean woman, 
 She nursed earl's children three ; 
 
 I learned it from their chapelain. 
 To beguile such sparks as ye." 
 
 When mass was sung, and bells were rung. 
 
 And all men boune for bed ; 
 Then Earl Richard and this Ladye, 
 
 In ane bed they were laid. 
 
 He turned his face to the stock, 
 
 And she hers to the stane ; 
 And cauld and dreary was the luve, 
 
 That was thir twa between. 
 
390 
 
 Great was the mirth in the kitchen, 
 
 Likewise intill the ha'; 
 But in his bed lay Earl Richard, 
 
 Wiping the tears awa'. 
 
 He wept till he fell fast asleep. 
 
 Then slept till licht was come ; 
 Then he did hear the gentlemen 
 
 That talked in the room. 
 
 Said, — " Saw ye ever a fitter match, 
 
 Betwixt the ane and ither ; 
 The king o' Scotland's fair dochter. 
 
 And the queen of England's brither." 
 
 " And is she the King o' Scotland's fair dochter / 
 
 This day, oh, weel is me ! 
 For seven times has my steed been saddled, 
 
 To come to court with thee ; 
 And with this witty lady fair. 
 
 How happy must I be ! " 
 
 FINIS. 
 
MDCCtXKVU. 
 
I. 
 
 The following transcript is a literal copy from the original in the Pepy- 
 sian library, Cambridge. — (See appendix to Maitland's Poems, by Pinkerton 
 and Janiieson's Ballads.) 
 
 ' A Proper New Ballad, Entituled The Wind hath blown my Plaid away, 
 or, A discourse betwixt a young Maid and the Elphin-Knight; To be 
 sung with its own pleasant New Tune. 
 
 The Elphin Knight sits on yon hill, 
 
 Ba, ba, ba, lilli ba, 
 He blowes his Horn both loud and shril, 
 
 The wind hath blown ray plaid awa. 
 He blowes it East, he blowes it West, 
 
 Ba, ba, &c. 
 He blowes it where lie lyketh best. 
 
 The wind, &c. 
 I wish that horn were in my Kist, 
 
 Ba, ba, &c. 
 Yea, and the knight in my armes two. 
 
 The wind, &c. 
 She had no sooner these worrls said, 
 
 Ba, ba, &c. 
 When that the Knight came to her bed. 
 
 The wind, &c. 
 Thou art over young a maid, quoth he, 
 
 Ba, ba, &c. 
 Married with me thou il wouldst be. 
 
 The wind, &l'. 
 I have a sister younger than 1, 
 
 Ba, ba, &c. 
 And she was married yesterday. 
 
 The wind, &c. 
 Married with me if thou wouldst be, 
 
 Ba, ba, &c. 
 A courtesie thou must do to me. 
 
 The wind, &c. 
 
11 
 
 For thou must shape a sark to me 
 
 Ba, ba, &c. 
 Without any cut or heme, quoth he, 
 
 The wind, &c. 
 Thou must shape it needle and sheerlesse, 
 
 Ba, ba, &c. 
 And also sue it needle threedlesse." 
 
 The wind, &c. 
 If that piece of courtesie I do to thee, 
 
 Ba, ba, &c. 
 Another thou must do to me. 
 
 The wind, &c. 
 I have an aiker of good Ley-laud, 
 
 Ba, ba, &c. 
 Which lyeth low by yon sea-strand. 
 
 The wind, &c. 
 For thou must cure it with thy horn, 
 
 Ba, ba, &c. 
 So thou must sow it with thy corn. 
 
 The wind, &c. 
 And bigg a cart of stone and lyme, 
 
 Ba, ba, &c. 
 Robin Redbreast he must trail it hame. 
 
 The wind, &c. 
 Thou must barn it in a mouse-holl, 
 
 Ba, ba, &c. 
 And thrash it into thy shoes' soil. 
 
 The wind, &c. 
 And thou must winnow it in thy looff, 
 
 Ba, ba, &c. 
 And also seek it in thy glove. 
 
 The wind, &c. 
 For thou must bring it over the sea, 
 
 Ba, ba, &c. 
 And thou must bring it dry home to me. 
 
 The wind, &c. 
 When thou hast gotten thy turns well done 
 
 Ba, ba, &c. 
 Then come to me and get thy sark then . 
 
 The wind, &c. 
 
Ill 
 
 n not quite my plaid for my life, 
 
 Ba, ba, &c. 
 It haps my seven bairns and my wife. 
 
 The wind shall not blow my Plaid awa. 
 My maidenhead, I'l then keep still, 
 
 Ba, ba, &c. 
 Let the Elphin Knight do what he will. 
 
 The wind's not blown my Plaid awa. 
 IVIy plaid awa, my plaid awa, 
 
 And o'er the hill and far awa. 
 And far awa, to Norrowa, 
 
 My plaid shall not be blown awa. 
 
 IJ. 
 
 WILLIE AND MARGARET. 
 
 Between the version, from which the following stanzas are taken, and 
 that given by Mr. Jamieson, reprinted in this work, see p. 155, there are 
 a few but unimportant variations. It supplies the deficiencies of Mr. 
 Jamieson's copy, and commences with this verse immediately before the 
 opening one of his : 
 
 Willie stands in his stable door. 
 
 And clapping at his steed, 
 And looking ower his white fingers, 
 
 His nose began to bleed. 
 
 When Willie is refused admittance at his loves bower, the ballad continues, 
 
 " O fare ye weel, my fause Margaret, 
 
 O fare ye weel and adieu, 
 I've gotten my mother's malison 
 
 This night coming to you." 
 As he rode ower yon hie hie hill. 
 
 And down yon dowie den, 
 The roar that was in Clyde's water 
 
 Would fear'd a hundred men. 
 
IV 
 
 When he came to Clyde's water, 
 'Twas flowing ower the brim ; 
 The rushing that was in Clyde's water, 
 
 Took Willie's cane frae him, 
 He leaned him ower his saddle bow, 
 
 To catch his cane again. 
 The rushing that was in Clyde's water, 
 
 Took Willie's hat frae him. 
 He leaned him ower his saddle bow, 
 
 To catch his hat thro force ; 
 The rushing that was in Clyde's water. 
 
 Took Willie frae his horse. 
 His brother stood upon the bank. 
 
 Says " Fye, man, will ye drown ? 
 Yell turn ye to your high horse" head, 
 
 And learn ye how to soom." 
 " How can I turn to my high horse head, 
 
 And learn me how to soom ? 
 I've gotten my mother's malison, 
 
 Its here that I maun drown." 
 The very hour the young man sank 
 
 Into the pot sae deep ; 
 Up it waken'd her, 'Slay Blargret, 
 
 Out of her drowsy sleep. 
 " Come here, come here, m}' mother dear. 
 
 And read this dreary dream ; 
 I dreamed my love was at our yetts. 
 
 And nane wuld let him in." 
 " Lye still, lye still, now, IMay :Margret, 
 
 Lye still, and tak your rest, 
 Syn your true love was at your yetts. 
 
 Its but twa quarters past.'' 
 Nimbly, nimbly raise she up. 
 
 And nimbly put she on ; 
 And the higher that the lady cried, 
 
 The louder blew the win'. 
 The firsten step that she stepped. 
 
 She stepped to the cuit — 
 
" Ohone, alace !" said tliat lailie, 
 
 '• This water's woiuhous deep." 
 The ncisten step that she wade iu, 
 
 She waded till the knee ; 
 Says she " 1 would wade farther in 
 
 Gill I my love could see." 
 The neisien step that she wade in, 
 
 She waded to the chin ; 
 The deepest pot in Clyde's water, 
 
 Slie got sweet Willie in. 
 " You've had a cruel mother, Willie, 
 
 And 1 have had anither; 
 But we shall sleep in Clyde's water, 
 
 Like sister and like brither ! ' 
 
 III. 
 
 LORD JAMIE DOUGLAS. 
 
 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, 
 
 A little while when it is new ; 
 But when love grows auld it grows mair cauld, 
 
 And fades away like the morning dew. 
 
 1 lean'd my back against an aik, 
 
 I thocht it was a trustie tree. 
 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. 
 
 And alace my ain wand dings me now ! 
 O wherefore need I busk my head ? 
 
 Or wherefore should I kaim my hair ? 
 For my good lord has me forsook, 
 
 And says he'll never love me mair. 
 
VI 
 
 Gin I had wist or I had kisst, 
 
 That young man's love wassae ili 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, 
 
 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 ; 
 I took my auld son i.i my arms, 
 
 And went to my chamber pleasantlie. 
 But when lords and lairds cam through this toun. 
 
 And gentlemen o' a high degree ; 
 I must sit alane intill the dark, 
 
 And the babie on the nurse's knee. 
 I had a nurse and she was fair, . 
 
 She was a dearly nui*se to me : 
 She took my gay lord frae my side, 
 
 And used him in her companie. 
 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, 
 
 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. 
 "When I was sick and very sick, 
 
 Sick I was and like to die, 
 I drew me near to my stairhead, 
 
 And 1 heard my ain lord lichtly me. 
 Come down come down, O Jamie Douglas, 
 
 And drink the orange wine with me, 
 I'll set thee on a chair of gold, 
 
 And daut thee kindly on my knee. 
 
vu 
 
 When sea and sand turn iar inland, 
 
 And mussels grow on ilka tree ; 
 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. 
 
 An its 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. 
 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. 
 
 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 ; 
 Tlie 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. 
 
 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 dru ms and trumpets sound. 
 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. 
 Its fare ye weel my bonnie palace. 
 
 And fare ye weel my children three ; 
 
vni 
 
 (jod grant your father may get mair grace. 
 
 And love thee better than he has done me. 
 Its fare ye weel my servants all, 
 
 And you, my bonnie children three, 
 God grant your father grace to be kind 
 
 Till I see you safe in my ain countrie. 
 But wae be to you, fause Black w»od, 
 
 Aye, and ill death may you die; 
 Ye are t)ie first, and I hope the last, 
 
 That put strife between my good lord and nie. 
 When I came in through Edinburgli town 
 
 Bly loving father came to meet me, 
 With trumpets sounding on every side ; 
 
 But it was no comfort at ail to me, 
 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, 
 
 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." 
 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, 
 
 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 ; 
 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 : 
 
IX 
 
 " If I^ady Doiif;las he within, 
 
 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. " 
 
 IV. 
 
 JOHN THOMSON AND THE TURK. 
 
 This curious ballad is of respectable antiquity. Dunbar has written a 
 piece entitled " Prayer that the King war John Thonasoun's man," the 4th 
 line of each stanza being " God, gif ye war John Thomsoun, man!" In his 
 note on this poem, Mr. Pinkerton says : " This is a proverbial expression, 
 meaning a hen-pecked husband. I have little doubt but the original pro- 
 verb was Joan Thomson's man ; man, in Scotland, signifies either liunband 
 or servant." Pinkerton was ignorant of the existence of the ballad : had 
 he been acquainted with it, he would have saved himself the trouble of 
 writing a foolish conjecture. Colville in his Whig's supplication, or The 
 Scotch Hudibras, alludes twice to John Thomson : 
 
 We read in greatest warrior's lives. 
 They oft ■were ruled by their wives, &c. 
 And so the imperious Roxalan 
 Made the great Turk Johne Thomson's man. 
 again, 
 
 And these we ken. 
 
 Have ever been John Thomson's men, 
 Tliat is still ruled by their wives. 
 
 Pennicuik, in his Linton address to the Prince of Orange, also alludes to 
 
 the proverbial expression— 
 
 Our I.intoun Wives shall blaw the coal. 
 And 'Women here, as weel we ken. 
 Would have Us all John Thomson's men. 
 
Two or three stanzas of the ballad were known to Dr. Leyden when he 
 published his edition of the Complaynt of Scotland. These he has given in 
 the glossary appended to that work. 
 
 In Kelly's proverbs, London, 1721, there is this notice of the proverb — 
 " Better be John Thomson's man than Ringan Dinn's or John Knox's," 
 and Kelly gives this gloss, " John Thomson's man is he that is complai- 
 sant to his wife's humours, Ringan Dinns is he whom his wife scolds, John 
 Knox's is he whom his wife beats." In the West Country, my friend, Mr. 
 A. Crawford, informs me that when a company are sitting together, socia- 
 bly, and a neighbour drops in, it is usual to welcome him thus: — " Come 
 awa, we're a' John Tamson's bairns." 
 
 There is a song about John Tamson's wallet, but whether this was the 
 Palmer's scrip, which the hero of the ballad must have borne, I know not. 
 All that I have heard concerning the wallet is contained in these 2 verses : 
 
 John Tamson's wallet frae end to end, 
 John Tamson's wallet frae end to end ; 
 And what was in't ye fain would ken, 
 Whigmaleeries for women and men. 
 About his wallet there was a dispute, 
 Some said it was made o' the skin o' a brute, 
 But I believe its made o' the best o' bend, 
 John Tamson's wallet's frae end to end. 
 
 There is a nursery ryme which runs thus ; 
 
 John Tamson and his man 
 To the town ran ; 
 They bought and they sold 
 And the penny down told. 
 The kirk was ane. 
 The quire was twa ; 
 They gled a skelp, 
 And cam awa. 
 
 And this exhausts all I know respecting this worthy warrior. 
 
XI 
 
 JOHN THOMSON AND THE TURK. 
 
 John Thomson fought against the Turks 
 
 Three years, intill a far countrie ; 
 And all that time and something mail-. 
 
 Was absent frona his gay ladie. 
 But it fell ance upon a time, 
 
 As this young chieftain sat alane, 
 He spied his lady in rich ari'ay, 
 
 As she walli'd ower a rural plain. 
 •• What brought ye here, my lady gay, 
 
 So far awa from your ain countrie ? 
 I've thought lang, and very lang, 
 
 And all for your fair face to see.'" 
 For some days she did with him stay, 
 
 Till it fell ance upon a day, 
 " Fai'eweel, for a time," she said, 
 
 " For now I must boun hame away. 
 He's gi'en to her a jewel fine. 
 
 Was set with pearl and precious stane ; 
 Says, " my love beware of these savages boM 
 
 That's in your way as ye gang hame. 
 Ye'll tak the road, my lady fair, 
 
 Tliat leads you fair across the lea : 
 That keeps you from wild Hind Suldan, 
 
 And likewise from base Violentrie.' 
 Wi' heavy heart thir twa did pairt. 
 
 She mintet as she widdi-gae hame ; 
 Hind Soldan by the Greeks was slain. 
 
 But to base Violentrie she's gane. 
 When a twelvemonth had expired, 
 
 John Thomson he thought wondrous lang. 
 And he has written a braid letter, 
 
 And sealed it weel wi' his aiti hand. 
 He sent it wii,h a small vessel 
 
 That there was quicldy gaun to sea ; 
 And sent it on to fair Scotland, 
 
 To sefi ab.iiit his gay ladie. 
 
Xll 
 
 But the answer he received again — • 
 
 The lines did grieve Lis heart right sair : 
 Nane of her friends there had her seen, 
 
 For a twelvemonth and something mair. 
 Then he put on a Palmer's weed, 
 
 And took a pike-staff in his hand ; 
 To Violentrie's castell he hied. 
 
 But slowly slowly he did gang. 
 When within the hall he came, 
 
 He jooked and couch'd out ower his tree ; 
 " If ye be lady of this hall. 
 
 Some of your good bountith gie me." 
 " What news, what news, Palmer," she said, 
 
 " And from what countrie cam ye?" 
 I'm lately come from Grecian plains, 
 
 Where lies some of the Scots armie." 
 " If ye be come from Gi'ecian plains 
 
 Some mair news I will ask of thee — 
 Of one of the chieftains that lies there. 
 
 If he has lately seen his gay ladie." 
 " It is twa months and something mair, 
 
 Since we did pairt on yonder plain ; 
 And noTT this knight has began to fear 
 
 One of his foes he has her ta'en." 
 " He has not ta'en me by force nor slight. 
 
 It was a' by my ain free will ; 
 He may tarry into the fight, 
 
 For here I mean to tarry still. 
 And if John Thomson ye do see, 
 
 Tell him I wish him silent sleep ; 
 His head was not so coziely, 
 
 Nor yet sae weel as lies at my feet." 
 With that he threw aff his strange disguise. 
 
 Laid by the mask that he had on ; 
 Said, " Hide me now, my lady fair. 
 
 For Violentrie will soon be hame." 
 " For the love I bore thee ance, 
 
 I'll strive to hide vou if I can." 
 
XIU 
 
 Then she put him down in ii dark cellar 
 
 Where there lay many a new slain man. 
 Hut he hadna in the cellar been, 
 Not an hour but barely three, 
 Then hideous %vas the noise he heard, 
 When in at the gate cam Violciitrie. 
 Says, " I wish you well, my lady lair. 
 
 Its time for us to sit to dine ; 
 Come, serve me with the good white bread, 
 
 And likewise with the claret wine. 
 That Scots chieftain, our mortal fae, 
 Sae aft frae field has made us (lee. 
 Ten thousand zecluns this day I'll give 
 
 That I his face could only see." 
 " Of that same gift wuld ye give me, 
 
 If 1 wuld bring him unto thee ? 
 I fairly hold you at yom- word — 
 
 Come ben John Thomson to my lord." 
 Then from the vault John Thomson came. 
 
 Wringing his hands most piteouslie, 
 '< What would ye do," the Turk he cried, 
 
 •' If ye had me as I hae thee?" 
 " If I had you as ye have me, 
 
 I'll tell ye what I'd do to thee ; 
 I'd hang you up in good green wood. 
 
 And cause your ain hand wale the tree. 
 I meant to stick you with my knife 
 For kissing my beloved ladie"— 
 " But that same weed ye've shaped for me, 
 
 It quickly shall be sewed for thee." 
 Then to the wood they baith are gane ; 
 
 John Thomson damb frae tree to tree ; 
 And aye he sighed and said, " och hone, 
 Here comes the day that 1 must die.'" 
 He tied a ribbon on every branch. 
 
 Put up a flag his men might see ; 
 But little did his false faes ken 
 He meant them any injurie. 
 
XIV 
 
 He set his horn unto his mouth, 
 
 And he has blawn baith loud and schill : 
 And then three thousand armed men 
 
 Cam tripping all out ower the hill. 
 " Deliver us, our chief," they all did cry, 
 
 " Its by our hand that ye must die ;" 
 " Here is your chief," the Turk replied, 
 
 With that fell on his bended knee. 
 " O mercy, mercy, good fellows all, 
 
 Mercy, I pray you'll grant to me ;" 
 " Such mercy as ye meant to give, 
 
 Such, mercy we shall give to thee. " 
 This Turk they in his castel burnt. 
 
 That stood upon yon hill so hie ; 
 John Thomson's gay ladie they took 
 
 And hanged her on yon greenwood tree ! 
 
MUSICK. 
 
 The following tunes having been taken down from the singing of particu- 
 lar vei-ses in the respective ballads to which they belong, and these verses 
 having sometimes happened not to be the initial stanza of the ballad, it iias 
 been deemed advisable to print the precise verses fi-om the singing of which 
 the several tunes were so noted. This is rendered the more necessary as 
 some tunes are given to which no correspondent ballad will be found in 
 this collection, while others refer to sets of a ballad different from those 
 which it contains. 
 
 I. THE DAEMON LOVER. p. 92. 
 
 O where have ye been my long lost love,- 
 
 This long seven years and more ? 
 O I'm come to seek my former vows 
 
 Ye granted me before. 
 
 II. THE FLOWER OF NORTHUMBERLAND, 
 
 Is an English ballad, to be found in Deloney's History of Jack of Newbury, 
 from which it is inserted in Ritson's Ancient Songs. A Scottish version is 
 given in Mr. Kinloch's ballads, entitled, * The Provost's Daughter.' It is 
 popular in Scotland. 
 
 When they came to Scotland brig, 
 
 O my dear, my love that she wan ; 
 Light off, ye hure, from my black steed. 
 
 And hie ye awa to Northumberland. 
 
XVI 
 III. THE WHUMMIL BORE. 
 
 This ballad, had it been obtained perfect, would probably have found a 
 place in this collection. As nothing but a few stanzas were recovered we 
 have contented ourselves with merely preserving its tune. 
 
 Seven lang years I have served the king, 
 
 Fa, fa, faimiy. 
 And I ne'er got a sight of his dochter but ane, 
 
 With my glimpy, glimpy, glimpy, eedle, 
 
 Lillum too a tee too a tally. 
 
 IV. LORD DERWENTWATER. p. 349. 
 
 I leave to you, my eldest son, 
 
 Mj' houses and my land ; 
 I leave to you, my youngest son. 
 
 Ten thousand pounds in hand. 
 
 V. LORD BENGWILL. 
 
 Is not printed in this collection. It is one of the numerous versions which 
 exist of the ballad known under the titles of Bothwell, Corspatrick, Gil 
 Brenton, &c. See Herds Ballads and Border Minstrelsy. 
 
 Seven ladies liv'd in a bower. 
 
 Hey down and ho down. 
 And aye the youngest was the flower. 
 
 Hey down and ho down. 
 
 VI. BABE KORICE. p. 282. 
 
 The text now given is a version of the ballad differing a little from the one 
 published in this volume. 
 
xvu 
 
 Babe Norice is to the Greenwud gane, 
 
 He's awa wi the wind ; 
 His horse is siller shod afore 
 
 In the burning gowd ahind. 
 
 VII. SIR HEW OR THE JEWS DAUGHTER. p. 51. 
 
 Tlie version of this ballad printed in the present volume diflFers a little from 
 the set whose tune was noted, and which begins : 
 
 It was in the middle o' the midsimmer tyme 
 
 When the scule weans play'd at the ba', ba', 
 Out and cam the Jew's dochter 
 
 And on little Sir Hew did ca', ca', 
 
 And on little Sir Hew did ca'. 
 
 VIII. EARL RICHARD. p. 218. 
 
 Earl Richard is a hunting gone 
 
 As hard as he could ride, 
 His hunting horn about his neck 
 
 And his broad sword by his side. 
 
 IX. JAMIE DOUGLAS. 
 
 Is frequently sung to the same tune as Waly, Wall/ up the bank. 
 
 O come down stairs Jamie Douglas 
 O come down stairs and speak to me, 
 
 And I'll set thee in a fine chair of gowd 
 And I'll kindly daut thee upon my knee. 
 
 X. OCHILTREE WALLS. 
 
 This ballad, or at least other sets of it are given in Herd's Collection and in 
 
xvin 
 
 the Border Minstrelsy under the titles of Bonny May and the Broom of the 
 Cowdenknovves. It is not printed in this volume, but the set of which the 
 tune is now given begins thus : 
 
 O May, bonnie May, is to the yowe buchts gane 
 
 For to milk her daddies yowes, 
 And ay as she sang her voice it rang 
 
 Out ower the tap o' the knovves, knowes, knowes, 
 
 Out ower the tap o' the knowes. 
 
 XL EARL RICHARD. 
 
 This is a different tune to another version of the same ballad as No. VIII, 
 
 XII. THE THREE RAVENS. 
 
 Is given from the singing of a traditionary version of the ballad very popular 
 in Scotland, and the words of which set differ little from those given in Rit- 
 son's Ancient Song. 
 
 Three ravens sat upon a tree, 
 
 Hey down, hey derry day. 
 Three ravens sat upon a tree, hey down, 
 
 Three ravens sat upon a tree 
 And they were black as black could be, 
 
 And sing lay doo and la doo and day. 
 
 XIII. HYNDE HORN. p. 35. 
 
 What if these diamonds lose their hue, 
 
 With a hey lilloo and a how lo Ian, 
 Just when my love begins for to rew. 
 
 And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie. 
 
XIX 
 
 XIV. SUSIK CLELAND. ]). 22\. 
 
 There lived a lady in Scotland, 
 
 Hey luy love and ho uiy joy ; 
 There lived a lady in Scotland 
 
 And she dearly loved me, 
 There lived a lady in Scotland 
 And she's fallen in love wi' an Englishman, 
 
 And bonnie Susie Cleland is to be burnt in Dundee. 
 
 XV JOHNIE SCOT. j). 204. 
 
 But hard I paper, pen and ink. 
 
 And candle at my command ; 
 Its I would write a lang letter 
 To John in fair Scotland. 
 
 XVI. CLERK SAUNDERS. p. 147. 
 
 And they lay still and sleeped sound 
 
 Until the daj- began to daw, 
 And kindly to him she did say, 
 
 It is time true love ve were awa'. 
 
 XVII. A.MANG THE BLUE FLOWERS AND YELLOW. 
 
 This ballad is not inserted in this collection. The air was deemed worthy 
 of preservation. 
 
 Johnie, dear Johnie, what makes ye sae sad, 
 As the sun shines ower the valley ; 
 
 1 think nae music will mak ye glad, 
 Amang the blue flowers and the yellow. 
 
XX 
 
 XVIII. YOUNG JOHNSTON. p. 193. 
 
 It is from the singing of a different version of the ballad than that given in 
 this volume that its air has been obtained. 
 
 As Willie and the young Col'nel 
 
 Were drinking at the wine, 
 () will ye marry my sister, says Will, 
 
 And I will marry thine. 
 
 « 
 
 XIX. SWEET WILLIAM. p. 307. 
 
 l^art of this plate was printed off before it was discovered that slurs were 
 omitted over the last four notes of the 3d bar, the first two of the 6th bar, 
 and last two of the '7th bar. 
 
 This bird flew high this bird flew low, 
 
 This bird flew ower the sea. 
 Until it entei'ed the same chamber 
 
 Wherein was sweet Willie. 
 
 XX. THE SWAN SWIMS BONNIE O. 
 
 This ballad frequently goes under the title of The cruel Sister, or that of 
 T/ie Mill dams of Binnorie ; various versions of it exist. Of one set the 
 musick is now given ; commencing thus : 
 
 There liv'd twa sisters in a bower. 
 
 Hey my bonnie Annie O, 
 There cam a lover them to woo. 
 
 And the Swan swims bonnie O. 
 
 And the swan swims bonnie O. 
 
 XXI. LITTLE MUSHIEGROVE, 
 
 The old English ballad of LitUe Miisgrove and Lady Barnard exists in 
 
XXI 
 
 many shapes in Scotland. Its melody does not occur in Ritsons Enylisit 
 Songs, it not being known to the compiler of that work. 
 
 It fell upon a Martinmas time 
 
 When the nobles were a' drinking wine, 
 That little IMushiegrove to the kirk he did g" 
 
 For to see the ladies come in. 
 
 XXII. JOHNIE O' BRAIDISLEE. p. 17. 
 
 Johnie rose up in a May niornin, 
 Called for water to wash his hands — 
 
 Gar loose to me the gude gray dogs 
 That are bound wi' iron bands. 
 
 XXIIl. LADY JEAN. 
 
 This ballad lias never been published. Its subject is th6 same witli that of 
 the Bonny Hind, printed in the Border Minstrelsy. 
 
 The king's young daughter was sitting in her window 
 
 Sewing at her line silken seam, 
 She luikit out at her braw bower window 
 
 And she saw the leaves growin' green, my love, 
 
 And she saw the leaves growing green. 
 
 XXIV. MAY COLLEAN. p. 67. 
 
 From a different version than that published in this compilation. 
 
 O heard ye e'er o' a bloody knight 
 
 That liv'd in the west Countrie ? 
 For he has stown seven ladies fair 
 
 And drown'd them a' in the sea. 
 
XXII 
 
 XXV, MAY MARGARET. p. 56. 
 
 Lament, lament na, May Margaret, 
 
 And of your weeping let me be, 
 For ye maun to the king himseU 
 
 To seek the life o' young Logic. 
 
 XXVI. THE BONNIE BANKS o' FORDIE. p. 88. 
 
 The melody now given is attached to a dlfFerent version of this ballad which 
 beofins — 
 
 3 
 
 There were three sisters liv'd in a bower, 
 Fair Annet, and :Margaret, and 3Iarjorie, 
 
 And they went out to pu' a flower, 
 And the dew draps off the hyndbern- tree. 
 
 XXVII. EARL MARSHALL. p. 1. 
 
 Queen Elenor was a sick woman 
 
 And sick just like to die, 
 And she has sent for two Fryars of France 
 
 To come to her speedily. 
 
 XXVIII. MILL o' TIFTIES ANNIE. p. 239. 
 
 At Mill o' Tiftie liv'd a man. 
 
 In the neighbourhood o' Fyvie ; 
 He had a lovely daughter fair. 
 
 Was called bonnie Annie. 
 Her bloom was like the springing flower, 
 
 That salutes the rosy morning, 
 With innocence and graceful mein 
 
 Her beauteous fonn adorning. 
 
XXIU 
 
 XXIX. RICADOO. 
 
 This humourous ballad, of which the air is now given, has not been printed 
 in this collection. It begins : 
 
 The fanner's daugbtei" gade to the market, 
 
 Some white fish for to buy, 
 The young squire followed after her 
 As fast as he could hie, Ricadoo, 
 Tunaway ricadoo a doo a day, 
 Raddle ricadoo. 
 Tuna way. 
 
 XXX. THE BONNIE MERMAID. 
 
 The ballad to which this tune is sung could not be recovered in a complete 
 state. The verse now printed also occurs in some sets of Sir Patrick 
 Spens. 
 
 O up and spak the bonnie mermaid, 
 
 Wi' the glass and the kaim in her hand ; 
 Reek about, reek about, ye mariners all, 
 
 For ye're not very far from the land. 
 
 XXXr. CAPTAIN GLEN. 
 
 This common stall ballad is generally sung to the tune now given. 
 
 We had not sailed a league but two 
 Till all our whole ship's jovial crew 
 They all fell sick but sixty-three, 
 As we went to New Barbaric. 
 r 
 
XXIV 
 
 XXXII. THE FALSE KNIGHT. 
 
 For one version of this ballad see tlie Introduction. From another set the 
 tune has been noted. It begins : 
 
 O whare are ye gaun, quo' the false knight, 
 
 And false false was his rede, 
 I'm gaun to the scule, saj's the pretty little boj', 
 
 And still still he stude. 
 
 XXX. KEMPY KANE. 
 
 A version of this ludicrous and extravagant ballad is given in Mr. Sharpe's 
 Ballad Book. The set of which the tune is now given commences thus: 
 
 Kempy Kane's a wooin' gane 
 
 And far ayont the sea awee ; 
 And there he met wi' Drearylane, 
 
 His gay gude father to be awee. 
 
 The Musick now published has been obtained at considerable cost ; and 
 no little pains have been bestowed in noting it down with strict fidelity and 
 accuracy. It affords a pretty ample specimen of the description of melody 
 to which a great number of the early traditionary ballads of Scotland are 
 still chaunted by the people. As such it is hoped that it will prove an ac- 
 quisition of some value to tlie ancient popular melodies of the land. What- 
 ever the Musician may think of its worth, the Antiquarian, it is believed, 
 will not lightly pass it by, but on the contrary, rejoice with an exceeding 
 gladness that some little has been done to transmit it purely and undefiled 
 to posterity. 
 
ERRATA. 
 
 The Reader is requested to correct the following errata which have occurred in the 
 course of this work. On p. 57, for kincking 1, knicking, — p. 80, for dowrie 1. downe,— 
 p. 122, for set 1. sat, — p. 123, for brother 1. mother, — p. 167, for Then out came her and 
 false Frendraught 1. Then out it came her false Frendraught . At the end of the two last 
 verses on p. 171, should be added an Sfc. to shew that there is a repetition,— p. 176, for 
 reckon 1. bacon. There may be other typographical errors but these are so obvious that 
 the Reader can easily correct them. 
 
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