MP-NRLF 
 
 

EARLY BALLADS 
 
 ILLFSTRATITE OF 
 
 HISTORY TRADITIONS AND CUSTOMS 
 
 EDITED BY ROBERT BELL 
 
 GEIFFIN, BOHN, AND COMPANY 
 
 STATIONERS' HALL COURT. 
 1861. 
 
li 
 
 K 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 T. HABRILD, pV^'W^fR, SHOE LANE, 
 
 FLEET STREET, 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGB 
 INTRODUCTION 5 
 
 iarig galtabs. 
 
 LONDON LACKPENNY 9 
 
 THE NUT-BROWN MAID 14 
 
 I ADAM BELL, CLYM OF THE CLOUGII, AND WILLIAM OF CLCU- 
 
 DESLY 28 
 
 A TALE OF ROBIN HOOD 52 
 
 BOBIN HOOD AND ALLEN- A-D ALE 65 
 
 ROBIN HOOD'S DEATH AND BURIAL 69 
 
 PATIENT GKISSELL 73 
 
 CHEVY CHASE 81 
 
 THE BATTLE OF OTTERBURN 92 
 
 EDOM O' GORDON 103 
 
 KING ARTHUR'S DEATH 108 
 
 THOMAS THE RHYMER ,,,,,.,lia 
 
 THE DOUGLAS TRAGEDY . ... ll'J 
 
 JOHNNIE O' COCKLESMUIR , . , , , c . . 124 
 
 -"SIR PATRICK SPENS ,,,»,.... 128 
 
 LORD LOVEL , , 134 
 
 JAMIE DOUGLAS , 136 
 
 THE SPANISH LADY'S LOVE ,...., 138 
 
 THE WATER O' WEARIE'S WELL .142 
 
 LORD BEICHAN , , . 144 
 
 KING HENRY THE FIFTH'S CONQUEgT 151 
 
 THE JOLLY HARPER . , , 154 
 
 MARY AMBREE ...,,,..., . 1 58 
 
 1— Z 
 
ly CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGB 
 
 THE DEATH OF PARCY REED 161 
 
 A FAMOUS SEA-FIGHT BETWEEN CAFPAIN WARD AKD THE 
 
 RAINBOW 167 
 
 LADY GREENSLEEVES 170 
 
 TRUTH'S INTEGRITY 174 
 
 SADDLE TO RAGS 177 
 
 THE OLD AND YOUNG COURTIER ISO 
 
 THE BONNY HIND SQUIRE 183 
 
 THE MERMAID 186 
 
 THE WEE WEE MAN 188 
 
 THE JEW'S DAUGHTER 189 
 
 ~^^=*fiE LAMENT OF THE BORDER WIDOW 192 
 
 THE SANG OF THE OUTLAW MURRAY 193 
 
 BONNIE GEORGE CAMPBELL 205 
 
 THE CRUEL SISTER 206 
 
 LORD RANDAL 210 
 
 THE LASS OF LOCHROYAN 211 
 
 THE MERCHANT'S DAUGHTER OF BRISTOW 216 
 
INTEODUCTIOK 
 
 The ballads collected in this volume range from the close of 
 the fourteenth to the beginning of the seventeenth century. 
 The object oi the selection is to exhibit, by a variety of speci- 
 mens in a short compass, the special characteristics which 
 distinguish our old ballad literature from other kinds of 
 poetry, not only in its forms and diction, but in its choice of 
 topics and modes of treatment. The quaint and primitive 
 traits, peculiar to early poems written for music or recitation, 
 are common to them all, from the earliest to the latest ; for 
 their distinctive traits were preserved long after the state of 
 society to which they were originally adapted had undergone 
 considerable changes. The gradual decline of these composi- 
 tions may be traced to the accession of James I., when the 
 Border feuds ceased to supply the bold and picturesque sources 
 of interest which fired the imagination of the ancient minstrel. 
 The ballads produced after that period are tame and flat in 
 comparison with the genuine songs of the old times, and can 
 at best be regarded only as modern imitations. 
 
 The manner in which these pieces have come down to us 
 baffles any attempt at chronological arrangement. Some are 
 derived solely from tradition in districts where they have been 
 orally transmitted from generation to generation, time out of 
 mind ; some from broadsides, which never can be relied upon 
 as a clue to the date of authorship ; and some from MSS., 
 written at different periods, and presenting different versions 
 of the same original. Nor do we obtain much assistance as 
 to their age from internal evidence, or by comparison with 
 other poems. They are distinguished by the peculiarities of 
 a class, rather than of a period. One of the elementary con- 
 ditions of the ballad was to embody and perpetuate certain 
 
6 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 forms with which the people were already familiar, and its 
 structure, consequently, precluded its adaptation to transitory 
 standards of taste. Even particular turns of expression, 
 introduced at first, perhaps, to help the memory of the singer 
 or reciter, and afterwards retained for the sake of their popu- 
 larity, will be found constantly reproduced, with little varia- 
 tion. The orthography, for which, it is scarcely necessary 
 to observe, we have no reliable authority whatever, is every- 
 where capricious and uncertain ; sometimes governed by 
 the necessities of the measure or the rhyme, and often 
 changing its shape without any apparent reason. Words 
 of the most frequent occurrence are given in various 
 ways : thus, we have countrej countree^ country e, and coun- 
 trie; pityCf pittye, and pitie. In a few instances, Anglo- 
 Saxon forms are mixed with the Elizabethan orthography, 
 and we have the incongruity of Mr, hem, and hit mingled 
 with similar words spelt as we spell them at the present day. 
 Another peculiarity may be observed in numerous local cor- 
 ruptions, traceable to the confusion arising from the collision 
 of dialects on the Border. The authors — some of whom, pro- 
 bably, never committed their compositions to writing — are 
 not responsible for this chaos of inconsistencies, which must 
 be referred to the ignorance of scribes and the carelessness of 
 printers ; but that consideration, which throws open the whole 
 question to conjecture, only increases the difficult}^ of deter- 
 mining the age of the text. 
 
 All that can be done with a view to chronological order, 
 under such circumstances, is to give precedence to pieces 
 which are generally believed to be the earliest, or which, in 
 matter and manner, appear to justify that assumption. As 
 we advance, however, it becomes evident that the great mass 
 of the ballads most worthy of preservation are nearly con- 
 temporaneous, or, at least, belong to a cycle marked through- 
 out by homogeneous features. An occasional allusion here 
 and there may help as a guide to the period of authorship ; 
 but evidence of that description must always be received with 
 suspicion, as it was not an unusual practice, by a slight 
 
INTRODUCTION. 7 
 
 alteration in the phraseology, to adapt the old legend to cur- 
 rent usages. The bulk of the following collection may be 
 assigned, without much hesitation, to the sixteenth century. 
 Many of them, as we learn from references and fragments in 
 the plays of the time, enjoyed high popularity under the reign 
 of Elizabeth. The earliest ballad in the volume, which bears 
 a positive date, belongs to the latter part of the fourteenth 
 century; and none, it is presumed, are later than the reign of 
 James I. 
 
 In the formation of the texts of so many pieces, drawn from 
 numerous scattered sources, the introduction of a principle of 
 uniformity would have destroyed that antique colouring which 
 is essential to the integrity of the originals. The metrical 
 and grammatical aberrations of the ballad may be said to be 
 organic, and cannot be remedied without endangering its 
 vitality, and depriving it of the wild charm it derives from its 
 independence of scholastic laws. The reader must, therefore, be 
 prepared to find many rhythmical and verbal eccentricities in 
 this volume, over which no critical revision could have been 
 safely exercised. But I have not thought it necessary to 
 retain in all cases the imsightly orthography of the old MSS. 
 and broadsides. The obsolete spelling, however, has been 
 removed only where it was a mere deformity, or gratuitous 
 hindrance to the enjoyment of the verse. Wherever the early 
 forms of words were indispensable to the style or measure, 
 or to the grammatical inflections, they have been strictly 
 preserved. 
 
 It is not to be expected that within the limits of a single 
 volume such a selection of ballads could be brought together as 
 would satisfy the anticipations of every reader. Old favourites 
 will be missed which have been unavoidably excluded. But this 
 is a contingency to which all similar collections are subject; 
 and the utmost that can be reasonably looked for in a design 
 of this nature, is that it should combine as much excellence 
 and variety as its prescribed space will admit. This end has 
 been carefully kept in view throughout. The old chivalry of 
 the Marches is here amply reflected. The ancient love-ballad 
 
B INTRODUCTION. 
 
 has its popular representative. The legends of the Round 
 Table contribute a snatch of characteristic lore. Robin Hood 
 and Little John are exhibited under their greenwood tree, 
 and in some of their lawless exploits. The traditions of the 
 feuds and raids of the North, and the local tales which re- 
 people many an ancient fortress and crumbling ruin are 
 abundantly scattered through our pages. The choice of these 
 examples has been invariably governed by their intrinsic 
 merit, or by some special claims of other kinds ; and upon the 
 whole it may be hoped that the book will be acceptable to 
 all lovers of our ballad literature. 
 
 In order to obtain the widest scope for the selections, the 
 annotations have been compressed into as brief a compass as 
 possible. Such historical information as appeared requisite 
 is given in the introductions, and the notes are restricted to 
 mere points of explanation. 
 
 Several Scotch and mixed ballads are included in the 
 collection. They were found indispensable to the complete- 
 ness of the plan. The best of our English ballads are those 
 which had their origin in the warfare of the Border, where 
 the two races were constantly engaged in hostilities. Hence 
 the same subjects are frequently celebrated by poets on each 
 side of the Tweed, and become common property in a language 
 which often partakes of the peculiarities of both. The pure 
 English ballad is of rare occurrence in the North, being 
 generally more or less tinged by the neighbouring dialect ; 
 and in some instances the intermixture is so considerable as 
 to create a difficulty in deciding to which nation the produc- 
 tion belongs. Where two pieces, Scotch and English, relate the 
 same event, the choice has been determined by poetical 
 superiority. Other Scotch specimens have been added to 
 enrich the volume ; for, wealthy as we are in this department, 
 there is a vein of tenderness and romantic beauty in the 
 Scotch ballads which we cannot afford to dispense with in an 
 anthology of this description. 
 
EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 LONDON LACKPENNY. 
 
 [John Lydgate, the author of these verses, was a Benedictine 
 monk of Bury St. Edmund's, born, according to his own 
 account, at Lidgate. The date of his birth cannot be deter- 
 mined with certainty. He was ordained in 1389, and it is 
 therefore probable, as conjectured by Ellis, that he was born 
 about 1375. The time of his death is unknown. Ritson 
 assumes, from a stanza on Edward lY. in the Chronicle of 
 Ki'ngs, that he must have survived the year 1461; some 
 Vriters place his death in 1440, and others in 1482, which 
 »ast prolongs his life to the apocryphal age of upwards of a 
 hundred years. Lydgate was a voluminous and versatile 
 writer. Ritson enumerates the titles of 251 pieces ascribed 
 to him; a list which cannot be considered as exhausting the 
 catalogue of his works. In his own age, Lydgate enjoyed 
 great popularity; but modern critics differ widely in their 
 estimates of his poetical character. Ritson and Percy dismiss 
 him with contempt; while Warton eulogizes his clearness 
 and facility, and Gray places him next to Chaucer. Warton's 
 praise is just and discriminating, for, although frequently 
 diffuse and tedious, Lydgate is rarely obscure, and generally 
 distinguished by ease and fluency. 
 
 The following ballad is curious as a record of the street 
 cries and trades of London towards the close of the fourteenth, 
 and beginning of the fifteenth century. The subject of which 
 it treats was a frequent theme with the poets of the period. 
 That the want of money pressed more heavily on the writers 
 of songs and ballads than on most oth^ people is probable 
 
10 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 enough; but it is evident, from the numerous allusions to the 
 advantages and influence of wealth which abound in the 
 current tales and satires, that poverty had a harder up-hill 
 fight against the contumely of the world in those days than 
 is generally supposed. A full purse, and even the possession 
 of landed estates, was generally typified under the common 
 designation of Penny, advanced for the purposes of the poet 
 to the dignity of knighthood. Sir Penny was a famous 
 character in those bantering compositions, some of which, 
 bearing his name, describe, under the allegory of his successful 
 adventures, the triumphant progress of riches.* In Lack- 
 penny, the Penniless of later times, we have the social anti- 
 thesis to Sir Penny. Lackpenny is a countryman who comes 
 up to London to consult the lawyers, but, not having any 
 money to fee them, he cannot obtain a hearing of his suit, and, 
 unable to defray the cost of living in town, is obliged to go 
 back again into Kent. The original title of the ballad seems 
 to have been London Lickpenny, possibly intended, as Mr. 
 Halliwell supposes, in the sense of London licking up all the 
 pence ;t but the title Lackpenny is obviously justified by the 
 burden.] 
 
 TO London once my steps I bent, 
 Where truth in no wise should be faint ; 
 To Westminster- ward I forthwith bent, 
 To a man of law to make complaint ; 
 I said, * For Mary's love, that holy saint ! 
 Pity the poor that would proceed!' 
 But for lack of money I could not speed. 
 
 And as I thrust the presej among, 
 By fro ward chance my hood was gone ; 
 Yet for all that I stayed not long, 
 Till to the King's Bench I was come. 
 Before the judge I kneeled anon, 
 
 * See Ellis's Specimen'^, i. 269, 3rd Edit, 
 t Minor Poerns of LydgaZe. Percy Society. X Crowd. 
 
LONDON LACKPENNY. 11 
 
 And prayed him for God's sake to take heed ; 
 But for lack of money I might not speed. 
 
 Beneath them sat clarkes a great rout, 
 Which fast did write by one assent ; 
 There stood up one, and cried about, 
 
 * E/ichard, Robert, and John of Kent.' 
 I wist not well what this man meant, 
 He cried so thy eke there indeed; 
 
 But he that lacked money might not speed. 
 
 Unto the common place I yode thoo,* 
 
 Where sat one with a silken hood; 
 
 I did him reverence, for I ought to do so, 
 
 And told my case as well as T could, 
 
 How my goods were defrauded me by falsehood. 
 
 I got not a mum of his mouth for my meed, 
 
 And for lack of money I might not speed. 
 
 Unto the Rolls I got me thence, 
 Before the clerks of the Chancery, 
 Where many I found earning of pence, 
 But none at all once regarded me. 
 I gave them my plaint upon my knee : 
 They liked it well when they had it read; 
 But lacking money I could not be sped. 
 
 In Westminster Hall I found out one 
 Which went in a long gown of raye ;t 
 I crouched and kneeled before him anon, 
 For Mary's love, of help I him pray. 
 
 * I wot not what thou meanest,' gan he say : 
 To get me thence he did me bede; 
 
 For lack of money I could not speed. 
 
 Within this Hall, neither rich nor yet poor 
 Would do for me aught, although I should die; 
 Which seeing, I got me out of the door, 
 
 * I went then, 
 t Striped cloth. Velvet striped in colours was called ray-velvel. 
 
12 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 Where Flemynges began on me for to cry, 
 ' Master, what will you copen"^ or buy 'if 
 Fyne felt hats, or spectacles to read] 
 Lay down your silver, and here you may speed.' 
 
 Then to Westminster-gate I presently went. 
 
 When the sun was at hyghe prime; 
 
 Cooks to me they took good entent. 
 
 And proffered me bread, with ale and wine, 
 
 Ribs of beef, both fat and full flne.t 
 
 A fair cloth they gan for to spread; 
 
 But wanting money I might not there speed. 
 
 Then unto London I did me hie, 
 
 Of all the land it beareth the prize. 
 
 ' Hot peascods ! ' one began to cry, 
 
 * Strawberries ripe ! ' and ^ Cherries in the rise !' J 
 
 And bad me come near, and buy some spice; 
 
 Pepper and saffron they gan me bede ; § 
 
 But for lack of money I might not speed. 
 
 Then to the Chepe || I began me drawn, 
 Where much people I saw for to stand: 
 One offered me velvet, silk, and lawn, 
 Another he taketh me by the hand : 
 ^ Here is Paris thread, the finest in the land.' IF 
 I never was used to such things indeed ; 
 And wanting money I might not speed. 
 
 * To chap or exchange. 
 
 t Cooks' shops were anciently established in neighbourhoods where 
 butchers abounded. ' For of old time,' says Stow, ' ^vhen friends did 
 meet, and were disposed to be merry, they went not to dine and 
 sup in taverns, but to the cooks, where they called for meat what 
 they liked, which they always found ready dressed at a reasonable 
 rate.' 
 
 X Branch. § They began to offer to me. 
 
 II Westcheap. 
 
 ^ In Lydgate's time, Westcheap was inhabited chiefly by mercers 
 and haberdashers, who afterwards, as we learn from Stow, migrated 
 to London-bridge. 
 
LONDON LACKPENNY. 13 
 
 Then full I went by London Stone, 
 
 Throughout all Canwyke Street;* 
 
 Drapers much cloth offered me anon; 
 
 Then comes me one cried, * Hot sheep's feet;' 
 
 One cried mackerel ; ryster green, another gan greet ; 
 
 One bade me a hood to cover my head; 
 
 But for want of money I might not be sped. 
 
 Then I hied me unto East-chepe; 
 
 One cries ribs of beef,t and many a pie; 
 
 Pewter pots they clattered on a heap; 
 
 There was harp, pipe, and minstrelsy. 
 
 ' Yea, by cock ! ' ' Nay, by cock ! ' J some began cry ; 
 
 Some songe of Jenkin and Julian for then mede ; 
 
 But for lack of money I might not speed. 
 
 Then into Cornhill anon I yode, 
 
 Where was much stolen gear among; 
 
 I saw where hung mine owne hood. 
 
 That I had lost among the throng; 
 
 To buy my own hood I thought it wrong; 
 
 I knew it well as I did my creed. 
 
 But for lack of money I could not speed. 
 
 The taverner took me by the sleeve, 
 
 * Sir,' saith he, ' will you our wine assay]' 
 
 I answered, that cannot much me grieve, 
 
 A penny can do no more than it may ; 
 
 I drank a pint, and for it did pay ; 
 
 Yet soon a hungered from thence I yode, 
 
 And wanting money I could not speed. 
 
 * Candle-wick-street, so called because originally it was the prin- 
 cipal place where candles were made. In the time of Edward III., 
 the chandlers appear to have been superseded by weavers brought out 
 of Flanders, who in turn gave way to rich drapers and sellers of 
 woollen cloth. See Stow, who quotes this ballad as an authority for 
 local customs anterior to his own time. 
 
 t A great flesh market was held in Eastcheap. 
 
 t A vulgar corruption of a profane oath. The book of the offices 
 of the church was sometimes added to the sacred name — by cock 
 and pie. 
 
14 EAELY BALLADS. 
 
 Then hied I me to Billingsgate; 
 
 And one cried, ^Hoo! go we hence!' 
 
 I prayed a bargeman, for God's sake, 
 
 That he would spare me my expense. 
 
 * Thou *scapst not here,' quod he, * under two-pence; 
 
 I list not yet bestow my almes deed.' 
 
 Thus lacking money I could not speed. 
 
 Then T conveyed me into Kent, 
 
 For of the law would I meddle no more; 
 
 Because no man to me took en tent, 
 
 I dyght* me to do as I did before. 
 
 Now Jesus, that in Bethlem was bore, 
 
 Save London, and send true lawyers their meed ; 
 
 For whoso wants money with them shall not speed. 
 
 THE NUT-BROWN MAID. 
 
 [The earliest known printed copy of this famous ballad occurs 
 in an ancient book on the customs of London, commonly 
 described in the catalogues as Arnold's Chronicle. The date 
 of the first edition may certainly be placed at the beginning 
 of the sixteenth century; but the exact year is doubtful, as 
 the very few copies of this scarce volume which have been pre- 
 served are either imperfect, or have no printer's name or date 
 prefixed to them. Oldys had seen two copies, m one of which, 
 formerly in the possession of Hearne, the Chronicle was con- 
 tinued down to the 12th of Henry VIII., from which he 
 inferred the date of the publication to have been 152 1. 
 Capel, who collated three imperfect copies, one of which 
 was Hearne's copy, came to the same conclusion from the 
 internal evidence. An earlier edition (now in the library 
 at Cambridge) appears to have fallen into the hands of 
 Dr. Farmer, who made the following note upon it: 'This is 
 
 * Prepared. 
 
THE NUT-BROWN MAID. 15 
 
 the first edition of this very rare book; nineteen years older 
 than Hearne, Oldys, Capel, &c. supposed it.' If this state- 
 ment may be relied upon, the date of the first edition must 
 have been 1502. Arnold's Chronicle was reprinted in 181 1, 
 with an introduction by Douce. 
 
 Dr. Percy inserted the ballad in his Seliques, adopting 
 Capel's edition as the basis of his text, collated with the 
 Cambridge copy, and with a MS. copy in his own possession, 
 which, although corrupt and defective, yielded in one passage 
 a more accurate reading. The following text is founded on a 
 collation of the preceding texts. The obsolete and capricious 
 orthography in which this ballad has hitherto appeared 
 presented an unnecessary obstruction to the modern reader, 
 which is removed in the present edition. The old copies 
 not only vary from each other, but are inconsistent in them- 
 selves; and, except where the rhythm, the rhyme, or the 
 grammatical structure demands the retention of particular 
 forms, there is no valid reason for perpetuating them. 
 
 There can be little doubt that the ballad was written long 
 before the sixteenth century. It was first reprinted in the 
 Muses Mercury f i7o7> with a preface, in which conjectural 
 reasons were given for assuming it to have been then nearly 
 three hundred years old. Capel was of opinion that it had 
 no claim to any higher antiquity than the beginning of the 
 sixteenth century. But, apart from the diction, form, and 
 general character of the poem, which abundantly justify the 
 impression that it belongs to a much earlier period, its 
 preservation in Arnold's Chronicle — a work exclusively 
 antiquarian — may be considered decisive of the fact. It 
 appears to have been introduced into that historical melange 
 as an illustration of the popular poetry, of a former time. 
 
 A curious moralization of the ballad, applied to the Passion 
 of Christ, was published early in the sixteenth century. 
 It was reprinted for the Roxburgh Club in 1820, and the 
 copy of the reprint in the British Museum is marked in 
 MS. 151 5. If this date could be traced to any authority, it 
 would help to confirm Dr. Farmer's reference to an earlier 
 
16 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 edition of the Chronicle; but it is unsupported by evidenc* 
 Dr. Rimbault edited the tract for the Percy Society in 1842 
 Whether the story of the Nut-hrown Maid is a meQ 
 fiction, consonant in its materials, features, and incidents with 
 the spirit of the age, or is founded upon an actual occurrence, 
 cannot be ascertained. A conjecture has been hazarded on 
 the subject by Dr. Whitaker, in his History of the Deanery 
 of Craven in YorJcshire, which, although on many accounts 
 improbable, is curious and ingenious. Dr. Whitaker supposes 
 that the hero of the ballad was Henry, Lord Clifford, the first 
 Earl of Cumberland, who, getting into embarrassments in his 
 youth, turned outlaw to extricate himself from his difficulties, 
 in preference to having recourse to the easier expedient of 
 raising money from the Jews on post obits. Assembling a 
 band of dissolute followers, says Dr. Whitaker, he * harassed 
 the religious houses, beat their tenants, and forced the inhabi- 
 tants of whole villages to take sanctuary in their churches.' 
 The early circumstances of the life of Lord Clifford, arising 
 from the attainder of his father for having killed the Earl of 
 Rutland, the brother of Edward IV., coincide in some respects 
 with the condition of the hero of the ballad ; for Lord Clifibrd 
 in his youth was * a banished man,' having been brought up 
 in secrecy and igm^rance as a shepherd's boy, to escape the 
 vengeance of royalty. It is not on this point, however. Dr. 
 Whitaker rests his case, but on the allusion of the hero to 
 Westmoreland as his heritage. He considers this local allu- 
 sion conclusive of the fact that the ballad records one of 
 the romantic adventures of Henry Clifford. It is true West- 
 moreland was not the heritage of the Clifibrds, but of the 
 Lady Margaret Percy who married Henry Clifford, a diffi- 
 culty which Dr. Whitaker endeavours to remove by assuming 
 that the wild young man lurked in the forests of the Percy 
 family, and won the lady's heart in disguise, and that the 
 writer of the ballad * inverted the rank,' or more correctly the 
 relative position, * of the parties,' for the purpose of throwing 
 ' a decent veil of fiction over a recent and well-known fact.' 
 A reference to dates will show that this conjecture ig 
 
THE NUT-BROWN MAID. 17 
 
 untenable. Henry Clifford died in 1543; Lady Margaret 
 Percy was his second wife ; it was not in his youth, nor in 
 the time of his 'banishment,' that he wooed her ; and the ballad 
 was evidently written long before the wooing, under whatever 
 circumstances it occurred, could have taken place. It may 
 be observed, also, that the heroine describes herself as a 
 baron's daughter. Lady Margaret was the daughter of an earl. 
 To Prior belongs the merit of having drawn attention to 
 the Nut-brown Maid, by founding upon it his ballad of 
 Henry and Emma; a piece which, nevertheless, shows how 
 little he appreciated the simplicity, sweetness, and pathos of 
 his original.] 
 
 T> E it right, or wrong, these men among 
 ^ On women do complain ; 
 Affirming this, how that it is 
 
 A labour spent in vain 
 To love them wele ; for never a dele 
 
 They love a man again : 
 For let a man do what he can, 
 
 Their favour to attain. 
 Yet, if a new do them pursue, 
 
 Their first true lover then 
 Laboureth for nought ; for from her thought 
 
 He is a banished man. 
 
 I say not nay, but that all day 
 
 It is both writ and said 
 That woman's faith is, as wlio saith. 
 
 All utterly decayed ; 
 But, nevertheless, right good witness 
 
 In this case might be laid, 
 That they love true, and continiie, 
 
 Record the Nut-brown Maid : 
 Which, when her love came, her to prove, 
 
 To her to make his moan, 
 Would not depart ; for in her Jieart 
 
 She loved but him alone. 
 
 EARLY BALLADS. 2 
 
18 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 Then between us let us discuss 
 
 What was all the man ere 
 Between them two : we will also 
 
 Tell all the pain, and fere, 
 That she was in. Now I begin, 
 
 So that ye me answere ; 
 Wherefore, all ye, that present be 
 
 I pray you, give an ear. 
 I am the knight ; I come by night, 
 
 As secret as I can ; 
 Saying, ^ Alas ! thus standeth the case, 
 
 I am a banished man.' 
 
 SHE. 
 
 And I your will for to fulfil 
 
 In this will not refuse ; 
 Trusting to shew, in wordes few. 
 
 That men have an ill use 
 (To their own shame) women to blame, 
 
 And causeless them accuse : 
 Therefore to you I answer now. 
 
 All women to excuse, — 
 Mine own heart dear, with you what chere ? 
 
 I pray you, tell anone ; 
 For, in my mind, of all mankind 
 
 I love but you alone. 
 
 ^ HE. 
 
 It standeth so ; a dede is do 
 
 Whereof great harm shall grow : 
 My destiny is for to die 
 
 A shameful death, I trowe ; 
 Or else to flee : the one must be. 
 
 None other way I know. 
 But to withdraw as an outlaw. 
 
 And take me to my bow. 
 
THE NUT-BIIOWN MAID. 19 
 
 Wherefore, adieu, my own heart true ! 
 
 None other rede I can : 
 For I must to the green wood go, 
 
 Alone, a banished man. 
 
 SHE. 
 
 Lord, what is this worldys bliss. 
 That changeth as the moon ! 
 
 My summer's day in lusty May 
 Is darked before the noon. 
 
 1 hear you say, farewell : Nay, nay, 
 We depart not so soon. 
 
 Why say ye so ? wheder will ye gol 
 
 Alas ! what have ye done? 
 All my welfare to sorrow and care 
 
 Should change, if ye were gone ; 
 For, in my mind, of all mankind 
 
 I love but you alone. 
 
 HE. 
 
 I can believe, it shall you grieve. 
 
 And somewhat you distrain; 
 But, afterward, your paines hard 
 
 Within a day or twain 
 Shall soon aslake; and ye shall take 
 
 Comfort to you again. 
 Why should ye ought? for, to make thought, 
 
 Your labour were in vain. 
 And thus I do ; and pray you to. 
 
 As heartily as I can; 
 For I must to the green wood go, 
 
 Alone, a banished man. 
 
 SHE. 
 
 Now, sith that ye have shewed to me 
 
 The secret of your mind, 
 I shall be plain to you again, 
 
 Like as ye shall me find. 
 
 2—2 
 
20 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 Sith it is so, that ye will go, 
 
 I wolle not leave behind; 
 Shall never be said, the Nut-brown Maid 
 
 Was to her love unkind : 
 Make you ready, for so am I, 
 
 Although it were anone; 
 For, in my mind, of all mankind t 
 
 I love but you alone. 
 
 HE. 
 
 Yet I you rede to take good heed 
 
 What men will think and say : 
 Of young and old it shall be told. 
 
 That ye be gone away, 
 Your wanton will for to fulfil, 
 
 In green wood you to play; 
 And that ye might from your delight 
 
 Xo longer make delay. 
 Rather than ye should thus for me 
 
 Be called an ill woman, 
 Yet would I to the green wood go, 
 
 Alone, a banished man. 
 
 SHE. 
 
 Though it be sung of old and young, 
 
 That I should be to blame, 
 Theirs be the charge, that speak so large 
 
 In hurting of my name : 
 For I will prove, that, faithful love 
 
 It is devoid of shame; 
 In your distress, and heaviness, 
 
 To part with you, the same : 
 And sure all tho, that do not so. 
 
 True lovers are they none; 
 For, in my mind, of all mankind 
 
 I love but you alone. 
 
THE NUT-BROWN MAID. 21 
 
 HE. 
 
 1 counsel you, remember how, 
 
 It is no maiden's law, 
 Nothing to doubt, but to renne out 
 
 To wood with an outlaw : 
 For ye must there in your hand bear 
 
 A bow, ready to draw ; 
 And, as a thief, thus must you live, 
 
 Ever in dread and awe ; 
 Whereby to you great harm might grow : 
 
 Yet had I lever than. 
 That I had to the green wood go, 
 
 AJone, a banished man. 
 
 SHE. 
 
 I think not nay, but as ye say, 
 
 It is no maidens lore; 
 But love may make me for your sake, 
 
 As I have said before, 
 To come on foot, to hunt, and shoot 
 
 To get us meat in store ; 
 For so that I your company 
 
 May have, I ask no more : 
 From which to part, it maketli my heart 
 
 As cold as any stone; 
 For, in my mind, of all mankind 
 
 I love but you alone. 
 
 HE. 
 
 For an outlaw this is the law. 
 
 That men him take and bind; 
 Without pity, hanged to be, 
 
 And waver with the wind. 
 If I had nede, (as God forbede !) 
 
 What rescue could ye find? 
 Forsooth, I trow, ye and your bow 
 
 For fear would draw behind : 
 
22 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 And no mervayle : for little avail 
 
 Were in your counsel then : 
 Wherefore I will to the green wood go, 
 
 Alone, a banished man. 
 
 SHE. 
 
 Right well know ye, that women be ¥, 
 
 But feeble for to fight ; 
 No womanhede it is indeed 
 
 To be bold as a knight ; 
 Yet, in such fear if that ye were 
 
 With enemies day or night, 
 I would withstand, with bow in hand, 
 
 To greve them as I might, 
 And you to save ; as women have 
 
 From death men many a one : 
 For, in my mind, of all mankind 
 
 I love but you alone. 
 
 HE. 
 
 Yet take good hede; for ever I drede 
 
 That ye could not sustain 
 The thorny ways, the deep valleys, 
 
 The snow, the frost, the rain. 
 The cold, the heat : for dry, or wet, 
 
 We must lodge on the plain; 
 And, us above, none other roof 
 
 But a brake bush, or twain: 
 Which soon should grieve you, I believe; 
 
 And ye would gladly then 
 That I had to the green wood go, 
 
 Alone, a banished man. 
 
 SHE. 
 
 Sith I have here been partynire 
 
 With you of joy and bliss, 
 I must also part of your woe 
 
 Endure, as reason is : 
 
THE NUT-BROWN MAID. 23 
 
 Yet am I sure of one pleasure ; 
 
 And, shortly, it is this : 
 That, where ye be, me seemeth, pard^, 
 
 I could not fare amiss. 
 Without more speech, T you beseech 
 
 That we were soon agone ; 
 For, in my mind, of all mankind 
 
 I love but you alone. 
 
 HE. 
 
 If ye go thyder, ye must consider, 
 
 When ye have lust to dine. 
 There shall no meat be for you gete, 
 
 Nor drink, beer, ale, nor wine. 
 No shetes clean, to lie between, 
 
 Made of thread and twine ; 
 None other house, but leaves and boughs, 
 
 To cover your head and mine ; 
 O mine heart sweet, this evil diete 
 
 Should make you pale and wan; 
 Wherefore I will to the green wood go, 
 
 Alone, a banished man. 
 
 SHE. 
 
 Among the wild dere, such an arch^re, 
 
 As men say that ye be, 
 Ne may not fail of good vitkyle, 
 
 Where is so great plenty: 
 And water clear of the ryv6re 
 
 Shall be full sweet to me ; 
 With which in hele* I shall right wele 
 
 Endure, as ye shall see ; 
 And, or we go, a bed or two 
 
 I can provide anone; 
 For, in my mind, of all mankind 
 
 I love but you alone. 
 
 * Health. 
 
24 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 HE. 
 
 Lo ! yet, before, ye must do more, 
 
 If ye will go with me : 
 As cut your hair up by your ear, 
 
 Your kirtle by the knee; 
 With bow in hand, for to withstand 
 
 Your enemies, if need be : 
 And this same night before day-light, 
 
 To wood- ward will I flee. 
 If that ye will all this fulfil, 
 
 Do it shortly as ye can; 
 Else will I to the green wood go, 
 
 Alone, a banished man. 
 
 SHE. 
 
 I shall as now do more for you 
 
 Than 'longeth to womanhede; 
 To shorte my hair, a bow to bear. 
 
 To shoot in time of need. 
 O my sweet mother, before all other 
 
 For you I have most drede : 
 But now, adieu ! I must ensue. 
 
 Where fortune doth me lead. 
 All this make ye : Now let us flee ; 
 
 The day cometh fast upon ; 
 For, in my mind, of all mankind 
 
 I love but you alone. 
 
 HE. 
 
 Nay, nay, not so; ye shall not go, 
 
 And I shall tell ye why, 
 
 Your appetite is to be light 
 
 Of love, I wele espy : 
 For, like as ye have said to me, 
 
 In like wise hardely 
 Ye would answere whosoever it were. 
 
 In way of company. 
 
THE NUT-BROWN MAID. 25 
 
 It is said of old, Soon hot, soon cold ; 
 
 And so is a woman. 
 Wherefore I to the wood will go, 
 
 Alone, a banished man. 
 
 SHE. 
 
 If ye take heed, it is no need 
 
 Such words to say by me; 
 For oft ye prayed, and long assayed, 
 
 Or I you loved, parde : 
 And though that I of ancestry 
 
 A baron's daughter be, 
 Yet have you proved how I you loved 
 
 A squire of low degree ; 
 And ever shall, whatso befall; 
 
 To die therefore anone; 
 For, in my mind, of all mankind 
 
 I love but you alone. 
 
 HE. 
 
 A baron's child to be beguiled ! 
 
 It were a cursed dede; 
 To be fel^we with an outlkwe! 
 
 Almighty God forbede! 
 Yet better were, the poor squyere 
 
 Alone to forest yede. 
 Than ye should say another day, 
 
 That, by my cursdd dede. 
 Ye were betrayed : Wherefore, good maid, 
 
 The best rede that I can. 
 Is, that I to the green wood go, 
 
 Alone, a banished man. 
 
 SHE. 
 
 Whatever befall, I never shall 
 
 Of this thing you upbraid : 
 But if ye go, and leave me so. 
 
 Then have ye me betrayed. 
 
26 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 Remember you wele, how that ye dele; 
 
 For, if ye, as ye said, 
 Be so unkind, to leave behind. 
 
 Your love, the Nut-brown Maid, 
 Trust me truly, that I shall die 
 
 Soon after ye be gone; 
 For, in my mind, of all mankind 
 
 I love but you alone. 
 
 HE. 
 
 If that ye went, ye should repent ; 
 
 For in the forest now 
 I have purvayed me of a maid. 
 
 Whom J love more than you ; 
 Another fayrere, than ever ye were, 
 
 I dare it wele avow; 
 And of you both each should be wroth 
 
 With other, as I trow: 
 It. were mine ease, to live in peace; 
 
 So will I, if I can ; 
 Wherefore I to the wood will* go, 
 
 Alone, a banished man. 
 
 SHE. 
 
 Though in the wood I understood 
 
 Ye had a paramour. 
 All this may nought remove my thought, 
 
 But that I will be your : 
 And she shall find me soft and kind, 
 
 And courteys every hour; 
 Glad to fulfil all that she will 
 
 Command me to my power : 
 For had ye, lo ! an hundred mo, 
 
 Of them I would be one ; 
 For, in my mind, of all mankind 
 
 I love but you alone. 
 
THE NUT-BROWN MAID. 27 
 
 HE. 
 
 Mine own dear love, I see the proof 
 
 That ye be kind and true; 
 Of maid, and wife, in all my life, 
 
 The best that ever I knew. 
 Be merry and glad, be no more sad, 
 
 The case is changed new; 
 For it were nith, that, for yonr truth, 
 
 Ye should have cause to rue. 
 Be not dismayed, whatsoever I said 
 
 To you, when I began; 
 I will not to the green wood go, 
 
 I am no banished man. 
 
 SHE. 
 
 These tidings be more glad to me, 
 
 Than to be made a queen, 
 If I were sure they should endure : 
 
 But it is often seen. 
 When men will break promise, they speak 
 
 The wordes on the splene."^ 
 Ye shape some wile me to beguile, 
 
 And steal from me, I ween : 
 Then, were the case worse than it was. 
 
 And I more wo-begone : 
 For, in my mind, of all mankind 
 
 I love but you alone. 
 
 HE. 
 
 Ye shall not nede further to drede; 
 
 I will not disparage 
 You, (God defend !) sith ye descend 
 
 Of so great a lineage. 
 Now understand; to Westmoreland, 
 
 Which is mine heritage, 
 I will you bring ; and with a ring, 
 
 By way of marriage 
 
 * On a sudden. 
 
28 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 I will you take, and lady make, 
 
 As shortly as I can : 
 Thus have you won an erly's son, 
 
 And not a banished man. 
 
 AUTHOE. 
 
 Here may ye see, that women be 
 
 In love, meek, kind, and stable; 
 Let never man reprove them then. 
 
 Or call them variable; 
 But, rather, pray God that we may 
 
 To them be comfortable ; 
 Which sometime proveth such, as he loveth, 
 
 If they be charitable. 
 For sith men would that women should 
 
 Be meek to them each one ; 
 Much more ought they to God obey, 
 
 And serve but Him alone. 
 
 ADAM BELL, CLYM OF THE CLOUGH, AND 
 WILLIAM OF CLOUDESLY. 
 
 [If the author of the ballad on Eobiii Hood's birth and 
 pedigree had any authority for his statements, the famous 
 archers who figure in the following legend lived before the 
 time of Robin Hood, and were contemporaneous with his 
 father, who is represented as having beaten them in shooting 
 at a mark. However that may be, the antiquity of the 
 ballad itself is clearly established by its style and form. 
 Few of the ancient ballads are more distinctly marked by 
 those characteristic turns of expression, and by that pecuHar 
 rhythm found in all the old poems which were written 
 to be sung or recited. The earliest copy extant is in 
 the British Museum, printed in black letter, in quarto, 
 without a date. It was reprinted in 1605, and 1616, with 
 the addition of an inferior piece, containing the adventures of 
 
ADAM BELL. 29 
 
 William of Cloudesly's son. Copies of these rei)riuts are 
 preserved in the Bodleian. 
 
 The heroes of this ballad were long celebrated for their skill 
 in archery, and their wild lives as outlaws, in the * north 
 countrie,' where the Bells are a numerous stock, and appear 
 to have sustained a pre-eminent notoriety for their misdeeds so 
 late as the beginning of the seventeenth century. Frequent 
 allusions to these marauders occur in the plays of the Eliza- 
 bethan period. That they flourished before the reign of 
 Henry YIII. is ascertained by the fact, that Engle or Ingle- 
 wood, which they frequented, was disforested by that monarch, 
 and had become in Camden's time * a dreary moor, with 
 high distant hills on both sides, and a few stone farm 
 houses and cottages along the road.' The forest of Ingle- 
 wood was in Cumberland, and extended from Carlisle to 
 Penrith. The term * English wood* in the ballad is a 
 corruption of Engle-wood, signifying, as Percy observes, 
 wood for firing. Ritson suggests that the term, in this 
 instance, meant a wood in which fires were made on parti- 
 cular occasions ; and he supports the conjecture by a reference 
 to Penrith beacon which stood within the confines of the 
 forest, and to Ingle-borough, a hill which obtained its name 
 from the beacon -fires anciently lighted on its summit. 
 
 Percy reprinted this ballad from the early black-letter 
 copy, with variations from a MS. in his possession. Ritson, 
 in his Pieces of Ancient Poetry, reproduced the old text, 
 which is also followed by Mr. Gutch in his elaborate 
 collection of the Robin Hood ballads. The following text 
 is formed from a collation of both editions.] 
 
 FYTTE THE FIKST. 
 
 Il/TEHEY it was in the green forest 
 -^^ Among the leves green,* 
 Where that men hunt east and west 
 With bows and arrows keen ; 
 
 * This was a popular form of opening, very common amongst 
 the old ballads. It occurs, with slight variations, in Robin Hood 
 
30 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 To raise the deer out of their den ; 
 
 Such sights hath oft been seen ; 
 As by three yeomen of the north countrie, 
 
 By them it is I mean. 
 
 The one of them hight Adam Bell, 
 The other, Clym of the Clough,* 
 
 The third was William of Cloudesly, 
 An archer good enough. 
 
 They were outlawed for venison, 
 
 These yeomen everychone; 
 They swore them brethren upon a day, 
 
 To English-wood for to gone. 
 
 Now lith and listen, gentlemen,t 
 That of mirthes loveth to hear ; 
 
 Two of them were single men, 
 The third had a wedded fere. 
 
 arid Guy of Gisbome, Robin Hood and the Potter ^ A Tale of Jiobin 
 Hood, and many others. The frequent recurrence of particular phrases 
 and forms of description is a striking feature in these compositions, 
 and marks their traditional character. 
 
 * Clim, Clem or Clement. Clough was used in different senses, 
 sometimes it implied a cliflf, and sometimes a wood ; but more gene- 
 rally a glen or narrow valley. 
 
 t Lith, or lithe, to tell or relate. ' Now lithe and listen, gentlemen,' was 
 an expression of common occurrence, generally used at the beginning 
 of a ballad, as in the Lytell Geste of Robin Hood, where it is to be 
 found at the commencement of nearly every fytte. It was originally 
 employed before the discovery of printing, and plainly indicates that 
 the poem was intended for recitation. 'It would seem,' observes 
 Mr. Motherwell, speaking of the constant reproduction of the same 
 modes and turns of expression in these pieces, ' 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 ages.' The occurrence 
 of these established phrases, however, does not necessarily prove that 
 a ballad belongs to a date anterior to the introduction of printing, 
 a the old forms were preserved long afterwards. 
 
ADAM BELL. 31 
 
 William was the wedded man, 
 
 Much more then was his care ; 
 He said to his brethren upon a day, 
 
 To Carlisle he would fare, 
 
 For to speak with fair Alice his wife, 
 And with his children three. 
 
 * By my troth,' said Adam Bell, 
 
 * Not by the counsel of me : 
 
 * For if you go to Carlisle, brother, 
 
 And from this wild wood wend. 
 If that the justice may you take, 
 Your life were at an end.' 
 
 ' If that I come not to-morrow, brother, 
 
 By prime to you again, 
 Trust you then that I am tak^n, 
 
 Or else that I am slain.' 
 
 He took his leave of his brethren two. 
 
 And to Carlisle he is gone : 
 There he knocked at his own window 
 
 Shortly and anon. 
 
 * Where be you, fair Alice,' he said, 
 
 * My wife and children three 1 
 Lightly let in thine own husband, 
 
 William of Cloudesly.' 
 
 * Alas!' then sayde fair Alice, 
 
 And sighed wondrous sore, 
 
 * This place has been beset for you 
 
 This half a year and more.' 
 
 * Now I am here,' said Cloudesly, 
 
 ' I would that in I were; 
 Now fetch us meat and drink enough, 
 And let us make us good cheer.' 
 
32 tAELY BALLADS. 
 
 She fetched him meat and drink plenty, 
 
 Like a true wedded wife; 
 And pleased him with that she had, 
 
 Whom she loved as her life. 
 
 There lay an old wife in that place, 
 
 A little beside the fire, 
 Which William had found of charity 
 
 More than seven year. 
 
 Up she rose, and walked full still,* 
 
 Evil mote she speed therefore ; 
 For she had set no foot on ground 
 
 In seven year before. 
 
 She went unto the justice hall, 
 
 A s fast as she could hie : 
 ' This night,' she said, ' is come to town 
 
 William of Cloudesly.' 
 
 Thereof the justice was full fain. 
 
 And so was the sheriff also ; 
 * Thou shalt not travaile hither dame, for nought, 
 
 Thy meed thou shalt have ere thou go.' 
 
 They gave to her a right good gown, 
 Of scarlet it was as I heard sayne ; f 
 
 She took the gift, and home she went. 
 And couched her down again. 
 
 »^Thi8 is the old reading from the printed copies. Dr. Percy- 
 reads, from his MS. — 
 
 • Up she rose, and forth she goes.' 
 
 The former, suggestive of the stealthiness of the old woman's step on 
 her treacherous mission, is certainly better, 
 t Percy reads — 
 
 Of scarlet and of graine ;' 
 
 which is equivalent to saying 'of scarlet and of scarlet,' graine beinj' 
 the name of the scarlet dye used for cloths. 
 
ADAM BELL. 33 
 
 They raised the town of merry Carlisle 
 
 In all the haste that they can,* 
 And came thronging to William's house, 
 
 As fast as they might gone. 
 
 There they beset that good yeoman 
 
 Kound about on every side; 
 William heard great noise of folks, 
 
 That thitherward fast hied. 
 
 Alice opened a back window,t 
 
 And looked all about, 
 She was ware of the justice and sheriff both, 
 
 With a full great rout. 
 
 * Alas ! treason,' cried [fair] Alice, 
 
 * Ever woe may thou be ! 
 
 Go into my chamber, my husband,' she said, 
 
 * Sweet William of Cloudesly.' 
 
 He took his sword and his buckldr, 
 
 His bow and his children three. 
 And went into his strongest chamber, 
 
 Where he thought surest to be. 
 
 Fair Alice followed him as a lover true, 
 With a poleaxe in her hand; 
 
 * He shall be dead that here cometh in 
 
 This door, while I may stand.' 
 
 Cloudesly bent a right good bow, 
 
 That was of a trusty tree. 
 He smote the justice on the breast, 
 
 That his arrow burst in three. 
 
 * Could, or were able, 
 t In one of the copies with which Dr. Percy collated this ballad 
 the reading here is * shop-window.' 
 
 EAKLY BALLADS. 8 
 
54 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 * A curse on his heart/ said William, 
 
 ' This day thy coat did on ! 
 If it had been no better than mine, 
 It had gone near thy bone.' 
 
 'Yield thee, Cloudesly,' said the justice, 
 
 * And thy bow and thy arrows thee fro.' 
 *A curse on his heart,' said the fair Alice, 
 
 * That my husband counselleth so.' 
 
 * S^ fire on the house,' said the sheriff; 
 
 * Sith it win no better be. 
 
 And brenne we therein William,' he said, 
 
 * His wife and his children three.' 
 
 They fired the house in many a place, 
 
 The fire fiew up on high : 
 'Alas!' then cried fair Alice, 
 
 * I see we here shall die.' 
 
 William opened a back window. 
 That was in his chamber high, 
 
 Ajid there with sheets he did let down 
 His wife and his children three. 
 
 * Have here my treasure,' sayde William, 
 
 *My wife and children three; 
 For Christe's love do them no harm. 
 But wreak you all on me.' 
 
 William shot so wondrous well, 
 Till his arrows were all ygo; 
 
 And the fire so fast upon him fell. 
 That his bowstring brent in two. 
 
 The sparkles brent, and fell him upon, 
 
 Good William of Cloudesly : 
 Then was he a woeful man, and said, 
 
 * This is a coward's death to me. 
 
ADAM BELL. 35 
 
 ' Lever had I,' savde William, 
 
 ' With my sword in the rout to renne, 
 
 Than here among mine enemies' wood 
 Thus cruelly to bren.' 
 
 He took his sword and his buckler, 
 
 And among them all he ran, 
 Where the people were most in prese, 
 
 He smote down many a man. 
 
 There might no man abide his strokes, 
 
 So fiercely on them he ran ; 
 Then they threw windows and doors on him, 
 
 And so took that good yeoman. 
 
 There they bound him both hand and foot, 
 
 And in a deep dungeon him cast ; 
 'Now Cloudesly/ said the justice, 
 
 ' Thou shalt be hanged in haste.' 
 
 * A pair of new gallows,' said the sheriff, 
 
 'Now shall I for thee make; 
 And the gates of Carlisle shall be shut. 
 
 No man shall come in thereat. 
 
 ' Then shall not help Clym of the Clough, 
 
 Nor yet shall Adam Bell, 
 Though they came with a thousand mo, 
 
 Nor all the devils in helL' 
 
 Early in the morning the justice uprose. 
 
 To the gates first gan he gone. 
 And commanded to be shut full close, 
 
 Lightily everychone. 
 
 Then went he to the market-place. 
 
 As fast as he could hie ; 
 A pair of new gallows there did he set up 
 
 Beside the pillory. • 
 
 3 — a 
 
36 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 A little boy among them asked, 
 
 * What meaned that gallows- tree f 
 They said, ^ To hang a good yeoman, 
 
 William of Cloudesly.' 
 
 That little boy was the town swine-herd, 
 
 And kept fair Alice's swine; 
 Oft he had seen Cloudesly in the wood, 
 
 And given him there to dine. 
 
 He went out at a crevice in the wall. 
 And lightly to the wood did gone; 
 
 There met he with those wightie* yeomen 
 Shortly and anon. 
 
 • 
 
 ' Alas!' then said the little boy, 
 
 ^ Ye tarry here too long; 
 Cloudesly is taken, and dampned to death, 
 
 And ready for to hang.' 
 
 *Alas!' then said good Adam Bell, 
 
 * That ever we saw this day ! 
 
 He had better have tarried here with us, 
 So oft as we did him pray. 
 
 * He might have dwelt in green forest. 
 
 Under the shadows green. 
 And have kept both him and us in rest, 
 Out of all trouble and teen I' 
 
 Adam bent a right good bow, 
 A great hart soon he had slain : 
 
 * Take that, child,' he said, ^ to thy dinner. 
 
 And bring me mine arrow again.' 
 
 ^ Now go we hence,' said those wightie yeomin, 
 
 * Tarry we no longer here ; 
 
 We shall him borrow by God his grace, 
 Though we buy it full dear.' 
 
 * Active. 
 
ADAM BELL. 37 
 
 To Carlisle went these bold yeomen, 
 
 All in a morning of May. 
 Here is a fytte of Cloudesly, 
 
 And another is for to say. 
 
 FYTTE THE SECOND. 
 
 And when they came to merry Carlisle, 
 
 In a fair morning tide, 
 They found the gates shut them until 
 
 Kound about on every side. 
 
 ' Alas !' then said good Adam Bell, 
 
 * That ever we were made men ! 
 These gates be shut so wondrous well, 
 
 We may not come therein.' 
 
 Then bespake him Clym of the Clough, 
 
 ^ With a wile we will us in bring; 
 Let us saye we be messengers, 
 
 Straight come now from our king.' 
 
 Adam said, * I have a letter written, 
 
 Now let us wisely work, 
 We will say we have the king^s seal; 
 
 I hold the porter no clerk.' 
 
 Then Adam Bell beat on the gates 
 
 With strokes great and strong; 
 The porter marvelled, who was thereat, 
 
 And to the gates he throng. 
 
 * Who is there now,' said the porter, 
 
 * That maketh all this knocking]' [Clough, 
 *We be two messengers,' quoth Clym of the 
 
 ' Be come right from our king.' 
 
 ' We have a letter,' said Adam Bell, 
 
 ' To the justice we must it bring; 
 Let us in our message to do, 
 
 That we were again to the king.' 
 
38 EAELY BALLADS. 
 
 ^ There cometh none in,' said the porter, 
 
 * By him that died on a tree, 
 Till a false thief be hanged. 
 
 Called William of Cloiidesly.' 
 
 Then spake the good yeoman Clym of the Clough, 
 
 And swore by Mary free, 
 ' And if that we stand long without, 
 
 Like a thief hanged thou shalt be. 
 
 * Lo 1 here we have the kinges seal : 
 
 What, lurden,* art thou wodeT 
 The porter wentt it had been so, 
 
 And lightly did off his hood. 
 
 'Welcome is my lord's seal,' he said; 
 
 * For that ye shall come in.' 
 He opened the gate full shortly: 
 
 An evil opening for him. 
 
 ' Now are we in,' said Adam Bell, 
 
 ' Whereof we are full fain ; 
 But Christ he knows, that harrowed hell, 
 
 How we shall come out again.' 
 
 ' Had we the keys,' said Clym of the Clough, 
 
 * Bight well then should we speed ; 
 Then might we come out well enough 
 
 When we see time and need.' 
 
 They called the porter to council, 
 
 And wrang his neck in two. 
 And cast him in a deep dungeon, 
 
 And took his keys him fro. 
 
 * The printed copies read lordeyne, apparently a misprint for 
 lurden, a clown, or stupid fellow. 
 
 t Weened. The MS. reads thought, which is obviously the 
 meaning. 
 
ADAM BELL. 39 
 
 ' Now am I porter,' said Adam Bell, , 
 
 ^ See, brother, the keys are here ; 
 The worst porter to merry Carlisle 
 
 That it had this hundred year. 
 
 'And now will we onr bowes bend, 
 
 Into the tower will we go, 
 For to deliver our dear brother 
 
 That lieth in care and woe.' 
 
 And thereupon they bent their bows, 
 And looked their strings were round,* 
 
 The market-place in merry Carlisle 
 They beset that stound. f 
 
 And as they looked them beside, 
 
 A pair of new gallows there they see. 
 
 And the justice with a quest of squires. 
 That had judged William hanged to be. 
 
 And Cloudesly lay ready there in a cart, 
 
 Fast bound both foot and hand ; 
 And a strong rope about his neck, 
 
 All ready for to hang. 
 
 The justice called to him a lad, 
 
 Cloudesly's clothes he should have. 
 
 To take the measure of that yeoman. 
 Thereafter to make his grave. 
 
 * I have seen as great a marvel,' said Cloudesly, 
 
 ' As between this and prime. 
 He that maketh a grave for me. 
 
 Himself may lie therein.' 
 
 » Ascham, in his Toxophilus, lays down the principle, * the strings 
 must be round.' ' Otherwise,' observes Dr. Percy, ' we may conclude, 
 from mechanical principles, the arrow will not fly true.' 
 t That instant — immediately. 
 
40 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 * Thou speakest proudly,' said the justice, 
 
 ' I will thee hang with my hand j' 
 Full well heard this his brethren two, 
 There still as they did stand. 
 
 Then Cloudesly cast his eyes aside, 
 And saw his two brethren stand 
 
 At a corner of the market-place, 
 
 With their good bows bent in their hand. 
 
 ' I see comfort,' said Cloudesly, 
 
 ' Yet hope I well to fare. 
 If I might have my hands at will 
 
 Right little would I care.' 
 
 Then spake good Adam Bell 
 To Clym of the Cloiigh so free, 
 
 * Brother, see you mark the justice well; 
 
 Lo, yonder you may him see; 
 
 ' And at the sheriff shoot I will, 
 
 Strongly with arrow keen;' 
 A better shot in merry Carlisle 
 
 This seven year was not seen. 
 
 They loosed their arrows both at once. 
 
 Of no man had they dread ; 
 The one hit the justice, the other the sheriff, 
 
 That both their sides gan bleed. 
 
 All men voided, that them stood nigh. 
 When the justice fell to the groimd, 
 
 And the sheriff fell nigh him by ; 
 Either had his death wound. 
 
 All the citizens fast gan fly. 
 
 They durst no longer abide : 
 Then lightly they loosed Cloudesly, 
 
 Where he with ropes lay tied. 
 
ADAM BELL. 41 
 
 William start to an officer of the town, 
 
 His axe from his hand he wronge; 
 On eche side he smote them down, 
 
 He thought he tarried too long. 
 
 William said to his brethren two, 
 
 ' This day let us live and die, 
 If ever you have need, as I have now. 
 
 The same shall you find by me.' 
 
 They shot so well in that tide, 
 
 Their strings were of silk full sure. 
 
 That they kept the streetes on every side; 
 That battle did long endure. 
 
 They fought together as brethren true, 
 
 Like hardy men and bold, 
 Many a man to the ground they threw, 
 
 And many a heart made cold. 
 
 But when their arrows were all gone, 
 
 Men pressed to them full fast. 
 They drew their swordes then anon, 
 
 And their bowes from them cast. 
 
 They went lightly on their way. 
 
 With swordes and bucklers round; 
 By that it was mid of the day. 
 
 They made many a wound. 
 
 There was an out-horn in Carlisle blown, 
 
 And the bells backward did ring; 
 Many a woman said, ' A las ! ' 
 
 And many their hands did wring. 
 
 The mayor of Carlisle forth come was, 
 
 With him a full great rout; 
 These yeomen dreaded him full sore. 
 
 For of their lives they stood in great doubt. 
 
42 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 The mayor came armed a full great pace, 
 
 With a poleaxe in his hand ; 
 Many a strong man with him was, 
 
 There in that stowre to stand. 
 
 The mayor smote at Cloudesly with his bill, 
 
 His buckler he brast in two, 
 Full many a yeoman with great evil, 
 
 ^ Alas ! Treason ! ' they cried for woe ; 
 ^ Keep well the gates fast,' they bad, 
 
 * That these traitors there out not go.' 
 
 But all for nought was that they wrought. 
 For so fast they down were laid, 
 
 Till they all three that so manful fought, 
 Were gotten without abraide.* 
 
 * Have here your keys,' said Adam Bell, 
 
 * Mine ojfice I here forsake. 
 And if you do by my counsel, 
 
 A new porter do ye make.' 
 
 He threw their keyes at their heads, 
 And bade them well to thrive. 
 
 And all that letteth any good yeoman 
 To come and comfort his wife. 
 
 Thus be these good yeomen gone to the wood, 
 
 As lightly as leaf on lynde;t 
 They laugh and be merry in their mood, 
 
 Their enemies be far behind. 
 
 When they came to the English-wood, 
 
 Under the trusty tree. 
 There they found bowes full good, 
 
 And arrows full great plenty. 
 
 * Abroad, 
 t The lime-tree ; but frequently applied to all trees in common. 
 
ADAM BELL. 4^ 
 
 * So God me help,' said Adam Bell, 
 
 And Clym of the Cloiigh so free, 
 
 * I would we were in merry Carlisle, 
 
 Before that fair meyne.'* 
 
 They set them down, and made good cheer, 
 
 And eat and drank full well. 
 A second fytte of these wightie yeomen ; 
 
 Another I will you tell. 
 
 FYTTE THE THIED. 
 
 As they sat in English-wood, 
 
 Under the green- wood tree, 
 They thought they heard a woman weep, 
 
 But her they mought not see. 
 
 Sore then sighed the fair Alice : 
 
 ' That ever I saw this day ! 
 For now is my dear husband slain ; 
 
 Alas ! and well-a-day ! 
 
 * Might I have spoken with his dear brethren, 
 
 Or with either of them twain. 
 To let them know what him befell. 
 My heart were put out of pain T 
 
 Cloudesly walked a little beside, 
 
 And looked under the green-wood lynde, 
 
 He was ware of his wife and children three. 
 Full woe in heart and mind. 
 
 * Welcome, wife,' then said William, 
 
 * Under this trusty tree : 
 I had wende yesterday, by sweet Saint John, 
 Thou shouldest me never have see.' 
 
 * Crew, company. 
 
4:4 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 * Now well is me that ye be here, 
 
 My heart is out of woe.' 
 ' Dame/ he said, ' be merry and glad, 
 And thank my brethren two.' 
 
 * Hereof to speak,' said Adam Bell, 
 
 ' I- wis it is no boot ; 
 The meat that you must sup withal. 
 It runneth yet fast on foot.' 
 
 Then went they down into a land, 
 These noble archers all three ; 
 
 Each of them slew a hart of greece,* 
 The best that they could see. 
 
 * Have here the best, Alice, my wife,' 
 
 Said William of Cloudesly, 
 
 * By cause ye so boldly stood by me 
 
 When I was slain full nigh.' 
 
 Then went they to supper, 
 With such meat as they had; 
 
 And thanked God of their fortune; 
 They were both merry and glad. 
 
 And when they had supped well. 
 Certain withouten lease, 
 
 Cloudesly said, * We will to our king. 
 To get us a charter of peace. 
 
 * Alice shall be at our sojourning, 
 
 In a nunnery here beside; 
 My two sonnes shall with her go. 
 And there they shall abide. 
 
 * Mine eldest son shall go with me. 
 
 For him have I no care; 
 And he shall bring you word again 
 How that we do fare.' 
 
 * Also spelt grize^ greese, &c. Literally a step, or degree. 
 
ADAM BELL. 45 
 
 Thus be these yeomen to London gone, 
 
 As fast as they might hie, 
 Till they came to the king's palkce, 
 
 Where they would needes be. 
 
 And when they came to the kinge's court, 
 
 Unto the palace gate. 
 Of no man would they ask no leave, 
 
 But boldly went in thereat. 
 
 They preced prestly into the hall, 
 
 Of no man had they dread ; 
 The porter came after, and did them call. 
 
 And with them began to chide. 
 
 The usher said, ^ Yeomen, what would ye have? 
 
 I pray you tell to me ; 
 You might thus make officers shent : * 
 
 Good sirs, of whence be ye V 
 
 * Sir, we be outlaws of the forest. 
 
 Certain withouten leace, 
 And hither we be come to our king, 
 To get us a charter of peace.' 
 
 And when they came before the king, 
 
 As it was the law of the land. 
 They kneeled down without letting. 
 
 And each held up his hand. 
 
 They said, ' Lord, we beseech thee here, 
 
 That ye will grant us grace; 
 For we have slain your fat fallow deer. 
 
 In many a sundry place.' 
 
 * What be your names f then said our king, 
 
 ^ Anon that you tell me :' 
 They said, ' Adam Bell, Clym of the Clough, 
 And William of Cloudesly.' 
 
 * Blamed. 
 
46 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 * Be ye those thieves,' then said our king, 
 
 ^ That men have told of to me? 
 Here to God I make an avow, 
 Ye shall be hanged all three. 
 
 * Ye shall be dead without mercy, 
 
 As I am king of this land.' 
 He commanded his officers everychone 
 Fast on them to lay hand. 
 
 There they took these good yeomen, 
 
 And arrested them all three ; 
 ' So may I thrive,' said Adam Bell, 
 
 ' This game liketh not me. 
 
 * But, good lord, we beseech you now, 
 
 That you grant us grace. 
 Inasmuch as freely we be to you come, 
 As freely we may fro you pass, 
 
 With such weapons, as we have here. 
 
 Till we be out of your place ; 
 And if we live this hundred year, 
 
 We will ask you no grace.' 
 
 ^Ye speak proudly,' said the king; 
 
 * Ye shall be hanged all three.' 
 
 * That were great pity,' then said the queen, 
 
 * If any grace might be. 
 
 * My lord, when I came first into this land, 
 
 To be your wedded wife. 
 The first boon that I would ask, 
 Ye would grant it me belyfe : 
 
 * And I asked you never none till now ; 
 
 Therefore, good lord, grant it me.' 
 
 * Now ask it, madam,' said the king, 
 
 ' And granted it shall be.' 
 
ADAM BELL. 47 
 
 * Then, good my lord, I you beseech, 
 
 These yeomen grant ye me.' 
 
 * Madam, ye might have asked a boon, 
 
 That should have been worth all three. 
 
 ' Ye might have asked towers and towns, 
 
 Parks and forests plenty.' 
 'None so pleasant to my pay,' she said; 
 
 ' Nor none so lefe to me.' 
 
 ' Madam, sith it is your desire, 
 
 * Your asking granted shall be ; 
 But I had lever have given you 
 
 Good market townes three.' 
 
 The queen^ was a glad woman, 
 
 And said, ' Lord, gramercy : 
 I dare undertake for them, 
 
 That true men shall they be. 
 
 * But, good my lord, speak some merry word, 
 
 That comfort they may see.' 
 
 * I grant you grace,' then said our king j 
 
 ' Wash, fellows, and to meat go ye.' 
 
 They had not sitten but a while 
 
 Certain without lesynge. 
 There came messengers out of the north 
 
 With letters to our king. 
 
 And when they came before the king, 
 
 They kneeled down on their knee. 
 And said, ' Lord, your officers greet you well. 
 
 Of Carlisle in the north countrie.' 
 
 * How fareth my justice f said the king, 
 
 * And my sheriff also?' 
 
 * Sir, they be slain, without leasing, 
 
 And many an officer mo.' 
 
48 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 ' Who hath them slayne V said the king, 
 
 * Anon that thou tell me.' 
 ' Adam Bell, and Clym of the Clough, 
 
 And William of Cloudesly.' 
 
 ' Alas, for ruth ! ' then said our king : 
 ' My heart is wondrous sore ; 
 
 I had lever than a thousand pound, 
 I had known of this before; 
 
 ' For I have granted them grace, 
 
 And that forthinketh me; 
 But had I known all this before. 
 
 They had been hanged all three.* 
 
 The king he opened the letter anon, 
 Himself he read it through, 
 
 And found how these outlaws had slain 
 Three hundred men and mo ; 
 
 First the justice, and the sheriff. 
 And the mayor of Carlisle town. 
 
 Of all the constables and catchipoUs 
 Alive were left not one; 
 
 The bailies and the beadles both. 
 And the sergeaunts of the law. 
 
 And forty fosters of the fe. 
 These outlaws had yslaw; 
 
 And broke his parks, and slain his deer, 
 Of all they chose the best; 
 
 So perilous outlaws, as they were. 
 Walked not by east nor west. 
 
 When the king this letter had read. 
 In his heart he sighed sore ; 
 
 ' Take up the tables anon,' he said, 
 ^ For I may eat no more.' 
 
ADAM BELL. 49 
 
 The king called his best archers 
 To the butts with him to go ; 
 ' I will see these fellows shoot/ he said, 
 
 * In the north have wrought this woe.' 
 
 The kinge s horsemen buske them blyve,* 
 
 And the queen's archers also ; 
 So did these three wightie yeomen; 
 
 With them they thought to go. 
 
 There twice, or thrice they shot about, 
 
 For to assay their hand; 
 There was no shot these yeomen shot, 
 
 That any pry eke t might them stand. 
 
 Then spake William of Cloudesly : 
 
 * By him that for me died, 
 
 I hold him never no good archer, 
 That shooteth at butts so wide.' 
 
 * At what a butt now would ye shoot, 
 
 I pray thee tell to me 1 ' 
 
 * At suche a butt, sir,' he said, 
 
 ' As men use in my countrie.' 
 
 William went into a field, 
 
 And with him his two brethren; 
 
 There they set up two hazel rods. 
 Twenty score paces between. 
 
 ' I hold him an archer,' said Cloudesly, 
 
 * That yonder wand cleaveth in two.' 
 
 * There is none suche,' said the king, 
 
 'Nor no man can so do.' 
 
 * I shall assay, sir,' said Cloudesly, 
 
 ' Or that I farther go.' 
 Cloudesly with a bearing arrow 
 Clave the wand in two; 
 
 * Got themselves ready quickly. t Mark. 
 
 XARLT BALLADS. ^ 
 
50 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 ' Thou art the best archer,' then said the king, 
 
 ' Forsooth that ever I see :' 
 ' And yet for your love/ said William, 
 
 * I will do more maystery. 
 
 * I have a son is seven year old, 
 
 He is to me full dear; 
 I will him tie to a stake ; 
 All shall see that be here; 
 
 ' And lay an apple upon his head, 
 And go six score paces him fro, 
 
 And I m5^self with a broad arrow 
 Shall cleave the apple in two.' 
 
 * Now haste thee,' then said the king, 
 
 * By him that died on a tree, 
 
 But if thou do not, as thou hast said, 
 Hanged shalt thou be. 
 
 * An thou touch his head or gown, 
 
 For sight that men may see. 
 By all the saints that be in heaven, 
 I shall hang you all three.' 
 
 * That I have promised,' said William, 
 
 ^ That I will never forsake.' 
 And there even before the king 
 In the earth he drove a stake : 
 
 And bound thereto his eldest son. 
 And bad him stand still thereat; • 
 
 And turned the child's face him fro, 
 Because he should not start. 
 
 An apple upon his head he set. 
 
 And then his bow he bent : 
 Six score paces they were out met, 
 
 And thither Cloudesly went. 
 
ADAM BELL. 51 
 
 There he drew out a fair broad arrow, 
 
 His bow was great and long, 
 He set that arrow in his bow, 
 
 That was both stiff and strong. 
 
 He prayed the people that were there. 
 
 That they would all still stand, 
 For he that shooteth for such a wager, 
 
 Behoveth a steadfast hand. 
 
 Much people prayed for Cloudesly, 
 
 That his life saved might be. 
 And when he made him ready to shoot. 
 
 There was many a weeping eye. 
 
 But Cloudesly cleft the apple in two, 
 That many a man might see; 
 
 * Over Gods forbode,' said the king, 
 
 * That thou should shoot at me. * 
 
 * I give thee eighteen pence a day, 
 
 And my bowe shalt thou bear. 
 And over all the north countrie 
 I make thee chief rydere.' 
 
 *And I give thee seventeen pence a day,' said 
 ^ By God, and by my fay ; [the queen, 
 
 Come fetch thy payment when thou wilt, 
 No man shall say thee nay. 
 
 * William, I make thee a gentleman 
 
 Of clothing, and of fee : 
 And thy two brethren, yeomen of my chamber, 
 For they are so seemly to see. 
 
 » This incident resembles in every particular the famous exploit ol 
 William Tell, which took place in 1307. Mr. Gutch observes, that 
 Saxo Grammaticus tells a similar story of Toke and Harold, at a 
 Huch earlier period. 
 
 4—* 
 
52 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 * Your son, for lie is tender of age, 
 
 Of my wine-cellar he shall be ; 
 And when he cometh to man's estate, 
 
 Better advanced shall he be. 
 
 'And, William, bring me your wife,' said the 
 * Me longeth her sore to see : [queen, 
 
 She shall be my chief gentlewoman, 
 To govern my nursery.' 
 
 The yeomen thanked them all courteously. 
 And said, * To some bishop will we wend, 
 
 Of all the sins that we have done. 
 To be assoiled at his hand.' 
 
 So forth be gone these good yeomen, 
 
 As fast as they might hie, 
 And after came and dwelled with the king, 
 
 And died good men all three. 
 
 Thus endeth the lives of these good yeomen, 
 
 God send them eternal bliss; 
 And all, that with hand-bow shooteth. 
 
 That of heaven may never miss. 
 
 A TALE OF ROBIN HOOD. 
 
 [The MS. of this ballad, first pubHshed by the Rev. C. H. 
 Hartshorne in his Ancient Metrical Tales, 1829, is pre- 
 served in the public library of the University of Cambridge, 
 Cap. 5, 48. ' It is probably,' says Mr. Gutch, * the oldest 
 extant of the cycle of Robin Hood's ballads. Mr. Wright 
 considers it to belong to the fourteenth century, and that it 
 was one of those which were sung by the contemporaries of 
 Fordun, and the author of Piers Plowman s VisionJ The 
 subject is incorporated in The Lytell Geste of Pohin Iloudy 
 which appears to have been formed on early ballacU, of 
 
A TALE OP ROBIN HOOD. 53 
 
 which this is not only the oldest but the best. It is a 
 perfect specimen in style and spirit of this form of popular 
 literature, quaint, simple, picturesque, and dramatic. The 
 devotion of Little John is manly and pathetic; and the 
 deception through which he finally accomplishes his object is 
 highly characteristic of the mode of reasoning and action by 
 which the outlaws of * merry Sherwood' opposed social 
 conventions and circumvented established authority. His 
 ingenuity lifts him above even Eobin Hood himself, and 
 renders him, in effect, the hero of the poem.] 
 
 TN summer when the shawes be shene, 
 -■- And leaves be large and long, 
 It is full merry in fair forest 
 To hear the fowle s song ; * 
 
 To see the deer draw to the dale, 
 
 And leave the hill^s hee,t 
 And shadow them in the leves green, 
 
 Under the greenwood tree. <^ 
 
 It befel on Whitsuntide, 
 
 Early in a May morning, 
 The sun up fair did shine, 
 
 And the birdes merry did sing. 
 
 * This is a merry morning,' said Little John, 
 
 * By him that died on tree ; 
 A more merry man than I am one 
 
 Lives not in Christiante. 
 
 * This favourite form of opening constantly occurs in the earliest 
 ballads, and is imitated in the later ones. Thus in the ballad of 
 Bobin Hood and the Potter^ which is about the same date as the 
 above : — 
 
 ' In summer, when the leves spring, 
 The blossoms on every bough. 
 So merry dothe the birdes sing, 
 In wodys merry now.' 
 See also, ante, p. 7,9. t High. 
 
54 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 ' Pluck up tliy heart, my dear mayster/ 
 
 Little John did say ; 
 ' And think it is a full fair time, 
 
 In a morning of May.' 
 
 ^ Yes, one thing grieves me,' said Robin, 
 ' And does my heart much woe ; 
 
 That I may not so solemn day 
 To mass nor matins go. 
 
 * It is a fortnight, and more,' said he, 
 
 * Sin I my Saviour see; 
 
 To-day I will to Nottingham,' said Eobin, 
 ' With the might of mild Mary.' 
 
 Then spoke Moche, the miller's son. 
 Ever more well him betide; 
 
 ^ Take twelve of thy wight yeomen. 
 Well weaponed by their side. 
 
 * Such on wolde thyself slon 
 
 That twelve dare not abide.' 
 
 * Of all my merry men,' said Robin, 
 
 * By my faith I will none have. 
 
 * But Little John shall bear my bow, 
 
 Till that me list to draw — 
 
 * Thou shalt bear thine own,' said Little John, 
 
 ' Mayster, and I will bear mine ; 
 And we will shoot a penny,' said Little John, 
 
 * Under the greenwood lyne.' 
 
 * I will not shoot a penny,' said Bobin Hood, 
 
 * In faith, Little John, with thee ; 
 
 But ever for one as thou shootst,' said Bobin, 
 ' In faith I hold thee thi-ee.' 
 
A TALE OP ROBIN HOOD. 55 
 
 Thus shot they forth these yeomen two, 
 
 Bothe at bush and brome, 
 Till Little John won of his mayster 
 
 Five shillings to hose and shone.* 
 
 A ferlyt strife fell them between, 
 
 As they went by the way; 
 Little John said he had won five shillings, 
 
 And Kobin Hood said shortly, ^ Nay !' 
 
 With that Kobin Hood lied Little John, 
 And smote him with his honde; 
 
 Little John waxed wroth therewith, 
 And pulled out his bright bronde. 
 
 ' Wert thou not my mayster,' said Little John, 
 * Thou shouldst bye it full sore ; 
 
 Get ihee a man where thou wilt, Robin, 
 For thou getst me no more.' 
 
 Then Robin goes to Nottingham, 
 
 Himself mornynge alone; 
 And Little John to merry Sherwood, 
 
 The paths he knew alkone.J 
 
 When Robin came to Nottingham, 
 
 Certainly withouten layne,§ 
 He prayed to God and mild Mary, 
 
 To bring him out safe again. 
 
 He goes into St. Mary's Church, 
 
 And kneeled down before the rood; 
 
 All that ever were the church within 
 Beheld well Robin Hood. 
 
 * Shoes. A knight who vanquished his opponent in the lists was 
 said to win his shone. 
 
 t Strange. t Each one, § Concealment. 
 
56 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 Beside Hm stood a great hooded monk, 
 
 I pray to God woo he be ; 
 Full soon he knew good Robin Hood, 
 
 As soon as he him see. 
 
 Out at the door he ran, 
 
 Full soon and anon ; 
 All the gates of Nottingham 
 
 He made to be sparred* every one. 
 
 * Rise up,' he said, ' thou proud sheriff, 
 
 Buske thee and make thee bowne;t 
 I have spied the king's felon, 
 
 For sooth he is in this town. 
 
 * I have spied the false felon, 
 
 As he stands at his mass ; 
 It is longe of thee,' said the monk, 
 ' An ever he fro us pass. 
 
 ' This traitor's name is Robin Hood, 
 Under the green- wood lynde; 
 
 He robbed me once of an hundred pound, — 
 It shall never out of my mind,' 
 
 Up then rose this proud sheriff, 
 And went towards him there; 
 
 Many was the mother son 
 
 To the kirk with him did fare. 
 
 In at the doors they throly J thrust, 
 With staves full good ilkone; 
 
 ' Alas ! alas !' said Robin Hood, 
 ' Now miss I Little John.' 
 
 Bat Robin took out a two-hand sword, 
 That hanged down by his knee; 
 
 Then as the sheriff and his men stood thickest, 
 Thitherward would he. 
 
 * Shut. A door-bolt is called a spar. 
 ' Prepare ; get thyself ready. t Impetuously, promiscuously. 
 
A TALE OF KOBIN HOOD. 57 
 
 Thrice thorow at theip. he ran, 
 
 Then for sooth as I you say, 
 And wounded many a mother son; 
 
 And twelve he slew that day. 
 
 His sword upon the sheriflfs head 
 Certainly he brake in two; 
 
 * The smith that thee made,' said Kobin, 
 
 ' I pray God wyrke* him woe; 
 
 * For now am I weaponless,' said E-obin, 
 
 ^ Alas ! against my will ; 
 But if I may flee these traitors fro, 
 I wot they will me kill.' 
 
 Robin's men to the churche ran, 
 
 Throughout them ever ilkone; 
 Some fell in swooning as if they were dead, 
 
 And lay still as any stone. 
 
 None of them were in their mind. 
 But only Little John. 
 
 ' Let be your rule,' t said Little John, 
 ' For his love that died on tree ; 
 
 Ye that should be doughty men, 
 It is great shame to see. 
 
 * Our mayster has been hard bystode. 
 
 And yet 'scaped away ; 
 Pluck up your hearts, and leave this moan, 
 
 And hearken what I shall say. 
 
 * Cause — make. 
 t Behaviour. Used here in the sense of grief. The meaning is 
 * leave oflf your grief.' 
 
58 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 ' He has served our Lady many a day. 
 
 And yet will securely, 
 Therefore I trust in her specially, 
 
 No wicked death shall he die. 
 
 * Therefore be glad,' said Little John, 
 * And let this morning be ; 
 
 And I shall be the monke's guide, 
 With the might of mild Mary. 
 
 ' And I will meet him,' said Little John, 
 
 * We will go but we two — ' 
 * * * * 
 
 ^ Look that ye keep well the trystil tree,* 
 
 Under the levys smale; 
 And spare none of this venison, 
 
 That go in this vale.' 
 
 Forth they went, these yeomen two. 
 Little John and Moche infere. 
 
 And looked on Moch emy'st house; — 
 The highway lay fall near. 
 
 Little John stood at a window in the morning. 
 
 And looked forth at a stage ; 
 He was 'ware where the monk came riding. 
 
 And with him a little page. 
 
 ' By my faith,' said Little John to Moche, 
 
 * I can tell thee tidings good; 
 I see where the monk comes riding, 
 
 I know him by his wide hood.' 
 
 * The place of rendezvous. Tryst, in its primitive sense, means 
 trust ; hence it came to be used as an engagement on faith to meet at 
 an appointed place. Trysting tree, the ordinary phrase, is literally 
 meeting tree. 
 
 t Uncle. See posty p. 97» note *. 
 
A TALE OF ROBIN HOOD. 59 
 
 They went into the way these yeomen both, 
 
 As courteous men and hende;* 
 They spyrred tithyngust to the monk, 
 
 As they had been his friend. 
 
 ' From whence come jeV said Little John; 
 
 *Tell us tithyngus I you pray, 
 Of a false outlaw, called Robin Hood, 
 
 Was taken yesterday. 
 
 ' He robbed me and my fellows both 
 
 Of twenty marks in certain; 
 If that false outlaw be taken, 
 
 For sooth we would be fain.' 
 
 * So did he me,' said the monk^, 
 
 ' Of an hundred pound, and more ; 
 I laid first hande him upon. 
 
 Ye may thank me therefore.' 
 
 ' I pray God thank you,' said Little John, 
 
 * And we will when we may; 
 We will go with you, with your leave. 
 
 And bring you on your way. 
 
 * For E-obin Hood has many a wild fellow, 
 
 I tell you in certain; 
 If they wist ye rode this way, 
 In faith ye should be slain.' 
 
 As they went talking by the way, 
 
 The monk and Little John, 
 John took the monk's horse by the head, 
 
 Full soon and anon, 
 
 John took the monk's horse by the head, 
 
 For sooth as I you say; 
 So did Moche, the little page, 
 
 For he should not stir away. 
 
 * Gentle. t Asked tidings. 
 
60 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 By the gullet of the hood, 
 
 John pulled the monki down , 
 
 John was nothing of him aghast, 
 He let him fall on his crown. 
 
 Little John was sore aggrieved, 
 
 And drew out his sword on high; 
 
 The monke saw he should be dead, 
 Loud mercy did he cry. 
 
 ' He was my mayster,' said Little John, 
 ' That thou hast browzed in bale ; 
 
 Shalt thou never come at our king, 
 For to tell him tale.' 
 
 John smote off the monke's head, 
 
 No longer would he dwell ; 
 So did Moche, the little page. 
 
 For fear lest he should tell. 
 
 There they buried them both. 
 In neither moss nor lynge ; * 
 
 And Little John and Moche infere 
 Bare the letters to our king. 
 
 He kneeled down upon his knee; 
 
 * God you save my liege lord, 
 
 Jesus you save and see. 
 
 * God you save my liege king ! ' 
 
 To speak John was full bold; 
 He gave him the letters in his hand, 
 The king did it unfold. 
 
 The king read the letters anon. 
 And said, so mot I thee, 
 
 * There was never yeoman in merry England 
 
 I longed so sore to see. 
 
 * Heather. 
 
A TALE OF ROBIN HOOD. 61 
 
 ^ Where is the monk that thou should have 
 Our king gan say; [brought?' 
 
 * By my troth/ said Little John, 
 
 ' He died upon the way.' 
 
 The king gave Moche and Little John 
 
 Twenty pound in certain; 
 And made them yeomen of the crown, 
 
 And bade them go again. 
 
 He gave to John the seal in hand, 
 
 The sheriff for to bear, 
 To bring E-obin him to, 
 
 And no man do him dere.* 
 
 John took his leave of our king. 
 
 The sooth as I you say; 
 The next day to Nottingham 
 
 To take he went the way. 
 
 When John came to Nottingham, 
 
 The gates were sparred ichone; 
 John called up the porter. 
 
 He answered soon anon. 
 
 ' What is the cause,' said Little John, 
 ^Thou sparrest the gates so fast?' 
 
 * Because of Robin Hood,' said the porter, 
 
 * In deep prison is cast. 
 
 * John, and Moche, and Will Scathlok,t 
 
 For woll as I you say. 
 They slew our men upon our walls, 
 And sawtenej us every day.' 
 
 Little John spyrred after the sheri0* 
 
 And soon he him fonde; 
 He opened the king's privy-seal, 
 
 And gave him in his honde. 
 
 * Hurt. t Will Scarlet. X Assaulted. 
 
62 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 When the sheriff saw the king's seal, 
 
 He did off his hood anon ; 
 * Where is the monke that bore the letters ] ' 
 
 He said to Little John. 
 
 ' He is so fain of him,' said Little J ohn, 
 
 * For woll as I you say ; 
 He has made him Abbot of Westminster, 
 
 A lord of that abbey.' 
 
 The sheriff he made John good cheer, 
 And gave him wine of the best ; 
 
 At night they went to their bed, 
 And every man to his rest. 
 
 When the sheriff was asleep. 
 
 Drunken of wine and ale, 
 Little John and Moche for sooth. 
 
 Took the way unto the jail. 
 
 Little John called up the jailor. 
 
 And bade him rise anon ; 
 He said Robin Hood had broken prison, 
 
 And out of it was gone. 
 
 The porter rose anon certain, 
 
 As soon as he heard John call; 
 
 Little John was ready with a sword, 
 And bare him to the wall. 
 
 ^ Now will I be porter,' said Little John, 
 ^ And take the keys in honde ; ' * 
 
 He took the way to Robin Hood, 
 And soon he him unbonde. 
 
 » Here is another instance of the traditional forms and incidents 
 transmitted through the ballads. The same incident, in nearly the 
 same words, ccurs in Adam Bell. — See ante, p. 39. 
 
A TALE OF ROBIN HOOD. 63 
 
 He gave him a good sword in his hand, 
 
 His head therewith for to keep ; 
 And there where the wall was lowest, 
 
 Anon down did they leap. 
 
 By that the cock began to crow, 
 
 The day began to spring; 
 The sheriff found the jailor dead, 
 
 The common bell made he ring. 
 
 He made a cry throughout all the town, 
 Whether he be yeoman or knave, 
 
 That could bring him Robin Hood, 
 His warison* he should have. 
 
 ' For I dare never,' said the sheriff, 
 
 * Com e before our king ; 
 For if I do I wot certain, 
 
 For sooth he will me hang.' 
 
 The sheriff made to seek Nottingham, 
 
 Both by street and stye;t 
 And E-obin was in merry Sherwood, 
 
 As light as leaf on lynde. 
 
 Then bespake good Little John, 
 To E-obin Hood did he say, 
 
 * I have done thee a good turn for an evil, 
 
 Bequite me when you may. 
 
 * I have done thee a good turn,* said Little John, 
 
 ^ For sooth as I you say ; 
 I have brought thee under the green-wood lyne. 
 Farewell, and have good day.' 
 
 * Nay, by my troth,' said Bobin Hood, 
 
 ' So shall it never be; 
 
 * I make thee mayster,' said Bobin Hood, 
 
 * Of all my men and me.' 
 
 * Reward. t Lane. 
 
64 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 ' Nay, by my troth,* said Little John, 
 
 ' So shall it never be ; 
 But let me be a fellow,' said Little John, 
 
 ' No other kepe I'll be.' 
 
 Thus John got E,obin Hood out of prisbne, 
 
 Certain withouten layne; 
 When his men saw him whole and sound, 
 
 For sooth they were full fain. 
 
 They filled in wine, and made him glad. 
 
 Under the lev^s small ; 
 And set pasties of venison, 
 
 That good was withal. 
 
 Then word came unto our king. 
 How Robin Hood was gone. 
 
 And how the sheriff of Nottingham, 
 Durst never look him upon. 
 
 Then bespoke our comely king^ 
 In an anger high, 
 
 * Little John has beguiled the sheriff, 
 
 In faith so has he me. 
 
 ' Little John has beguiled us both, 
 
 And that full well I see. 
 Or else the sheriff of Nottingham 
 
 High hanged should he be. 
 
 * I made him yeoman of the crown, 
 
 And gave him fee with my hand; 
 I gave him grithe,'* said our king, 
 ^ Throughout all merry England. 
 
 * I gave him grithe,' then said our king, 
 
 ' I say, so mot I thee. 
 For sooth such a yeoman as he is one, 
 
 In all England are not three. 
 
 * Grace. 
 
ROBIN HOOD AND ALLEN-A-DALE. 65 
 
 * He is true to his mayster,' said our king, 
 
 ' I say, by sweet Saint John, 
 He loves better Robin Hood 
 
 Than he does us ychone. 
 
 ' Robin Hood is ever bound to him, 
 
 Both in street and stall; 
 Speak no more of this matter,' said our king, 
 
 ' But John has beguiled us all.' 
 
 Thus ends the talking of the monk, 
 
 And Robin Hood, I wis; 
 God, that is ever a crowndd king. 
 
 Bring us all to his bliss. 
 
 ROBIN HOOD AND ALLEN-A-DALE. 
 
 [This ballad was originally published by Ritson from a 
 black-letter copy in the collection of Major Pearson. It 
 exhibits Robin Hood in one of his most attractive aspects 
 affording help to a distressed lover.] 
 
 COME listen to me, you gallants so free, 
 All you that love mirth for to hear, 
 And I will tell you of a bold outlaw, 
 That lived in Nottinghamshire. 
 
 As Robin Hood in the forest stood. 
 
 All under the greenwood tree, 
 There he was aware of a bi-aA^e young man, 
 
 As fine as fine might be. 
 
 The youngster was clad in scarlet red, 
 
 In scarlet fine and gay ; 
 And he did frisk it over the plain. 
 
 And chaunted a roundelay. 
 
 EARLY BALLADS. 6 
 
66 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 As Robin Hood next morning stood 
 
 Amongst the leaves so gay, 
 There did he espy the same young man 
 
 Come drooping along the way. 
 
 The scarlet he wore the day before 
 
 It was clean cast away; 
 And at every step he fetched a sigh, 
 
 * Alas ! and a well-a-day ! ' 
 
 Then stepped forth brave Little John, 
 
 And Midge,* the miller's son; 
 Which made the young man bend his bow, 
 
 When as he see them come. 
 
 ' Stand off! stand off I ' the young man said, 
 ' What is your will with me?' 
 
 * You must come before our master straight, 
 
 Under yon greenwood tree.' 
 
 And when he came bold Robin before, 
 Robin asked him courteously, 
 
 * O, hast thou any money to spare. 
 
 For my merry men and me?' 
 
 ^ I have no money,' the young man said, 
 
 * But five shillings and a ring; 
 
 And that I have kept this seven long years. 
 To have at my wedding. 
 
 'Yesterday I should have married a maid. 
 
 But she was from me ta'en, 
 And chosen to be an old knight's delight, - 
 
 Whereby my poor heart is slain.' 
 
 * What is thy name 1 ' then said Robin Hood, 
 
 'Come tell me, without any fail.' [man, 
 
 ' By the faith of my body,' then said the young 
 
 * My name it is AUen-a-Dale.' 
 
 * The Moche of the preceding ballad. 
 
ROBIN HOOD AND ALLEN- A-D ALE. 67 
 
 * What wilt thou give me,' said R-obin Hood, 
 
 * In ready gold or fee, 
 
 To help thee to thy true love again, 
 And deliver her unto theeT 
 
 * I have no money,' then quoth the young man, 
 
 ^ No ready gold nor fee, 
 But I will swear upon a book 
 Thy true servant for to be.' 
 
 ' How many miles is it to thy true love? 
 
 Come tell me without guile.' [man, 
 
 ' By the faith of my body,' then said the young 
 
 ' It is but five little mile.' 
 
 Then Bobin he hasted over the plain. 
 
 He did neither stint nor lin,* 
 Until he came unto the church 
 
 Where Allen should keep his weddin'. 
 
 ' What hast thou here?' the bishop then said, 
 
 * I prithee now tell unto me.' 
 
 ' I am a bold harper,' quoth Bobin Hood, 
 
 * And the best in the north country.' 
 
 * O welcome, welcome,' the bishop he said, 
 
 *That music best pleaseth me.' 
 'You shall have no music,' quoth Bobin Hood, 
 ' Till the bride and bridegroom I see.' 
 
 With that came in a wealthy knight. 
 
 Which was both grave and old ; 
 And after him a finikin lass, 
 
 Did shine like the glistering gold. 
 
 * This is not a fit match,' quoth Bobin Hood, 
 
 ' That you do seem to make here ; 
 For since we are come into the church, 
 The bride shall chuse her own dear.' 
 
 Stop. 
 
 5—* 
 
68 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 Then Kobin Hood put his horn to his mouth, 
 And blew blasts two and three ; 
 
 When four-and-twenty yeomen bold 
 Came leaping over the lea. 
 
 And when they came into the church-yard, 
 
 Marching all in a row, 
 The first man was Allen-a-Dale, 
 
 To give bold Kobin his bow. 
 
 * This is thy true love,' Kobin he said, 
 
 * Young Allen, as I hear say ; 
 And you jliall be married this same time, 
 Before we depart away.' 
 
 ' That shall not be,' the bishop he cried, 
 ' For thy word shall not stand; 
 
 They shall be three times asked in the church. 
 As the law is of our land. 
 
 Kobin Hood pulled off the bishop's coat. 
 And put it upon Little John ; 
 
 * By the faith of my body,' then Bobin said, 
 
 ' This cloth doth make thee a man.' 
 
 When Little John went into the quire, 
 
 The people began to laugh; 
 He asked them seven times into church, 
 
 Lest three times should not be enough. 
 
 *Who gives me this maid?' said Little John, 
 Quoth Bobin Hood, ^ That do I ; 
 
 And he that takes her from Allen-a-Dale, 
 Full dearly he shall her buy.' 
 
 And then having ended this merry wedding, 
 The bride looked like a queen; 
 
 And so they returned to the merry greenwood, 
 Amongst the leaves so green. 
 
69 
 
 ROBIN HOOD'S DEATH AND BURIAL. 
 
 [Peeseeved in Bohin Hood/s Garland, printed at York. 
 The reader who has accompanied the outlaw through the 
 series of bold adventures delineated in the numerous ballads 
 of which he is the hero, will follow him with interest to the 
 close of his career as it is depicted in this old poem. The 
 manner of his death is affecting. Trusting in his last 
 illness to the sympathy of his cousin, who was prioress oi 
 Kirkley nunnery, in Yorkshire, religious women in those 
 days being well skilled in the medical art, he placed himself 
 freely in her hands, and she treacherously made away with 
 him, by shutting him up in a room, and leaving him to 
 bleed to death. The prioress may have been tempted to 
 commit this foul deed by way of exacting retribution for 
 the sins of his life ; or it may be, as some of the commen- 
 tators affirm, that she was incited to despatch her kinsman 
 by one Sir Roger of Doncaster, who had a grudge against 
 him. The fact is piteous enough, either way, that he who 
 escaped unhurt through so many desperate raids and 
 combats, who broke prison and evaded the sheriff so often 
 and so successfully, and who succoured so many lovers 
 and widows, and punished so many hard-hearted law- 
 officers and dignitaries of the church, should come to so 
 miserable an end by the hand of a woman. The incidents of 
 the closing scene, the tenderness which Robin Hood shows 
 towards women to the last, and his calling for an arrow to 
 mark the spot where he is to be laid, terminate his life in a 
 spirit appropriate to its wild and poetical character. The 
 touching directions he gives for his burial appear to have 
 been carried out in the main particulars. He was buried 
 under a clump of the greenwood trees he loved so well, at a 
 short distance from Kirkley Hall, and a stone placed over 
 his grave with this inscription : ' Kirkley monasterium 
 monialium, ubi Ro : Hood nobilis ille exlex sepultus.* Ac- 
 
70 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 cording to some accounts, the prioress caused him to be 
 Duried by the highway side, in order that travellers, seeing 
 the inscription, might know that he was dead, and so 
 pursue their journey without fear. This is not inconsistent 
 with the former account, the clump of trees being close to 
 the highway. His death is stated by Eitson to have taken 
 place on the i8th of November, 1247, about the eighty- 
 seventh year of his age; but according to the following 
 inscription found amongst the papers of the Dean of York, 
 and quoted from the Appendix to Thoresby's Ducatus 
 Leodiensisy by Mr. Gutch, whose illustrative collections 
 embrace everything that is known on the subject, the death 
 occurred a month later. In this inscription, which bears 
 evidence of high antiquity, Eobin Hood is described as Earl 
 of Huntingdon — his claim to which title has been as hotly 
 contested as any disputed peerage upon record. 
 
 Hear undernead dis laitl stean 
 lais robert earl of huntingtun 
 near arcir der as hie sa geud 
 an pipl kauld im robin heud 
 sick utlaws as hi an is men 
 vil england nivr si agen. 
 
 OBIIT 24 KAL DEKEMBRIS 124?.] 
 
 WHEN Eobin Hood and Little John 
 ' ' Down a down, a down, a down, 
 Went o'er yon bank of broom. 
 Said Robin Hood to Little John, 
 ' We have shot for many a pound : 
 Hey down, a down, a down. 
 
 * But I am not able to shoot one shot more, 
 
 My arrows will not flee; 
 But I have a cousin lives down below. 
 
 Please God, she will bleed me.' 
 
 Now E-obin is to fair Kirkley gone. 
 
 As fast as he can wen ; 
 But before he came there, as we do hear, 
 
 He was taken very ill. 
 
ROBIN hood's death AND BURIAL. 71 
 
 And when that he came to fair Kirkley-hall, 
 
 He knocked all at the ring, 
 But none was so ready as his cousin herself 
 
 For to let bold Robin in. 
 
 ' Will you please to sit down, cousin Robin,' she 
 
 * And drink some beer with m.eV [said, 
 ' No, I will neither eat nor drink. 
 
 Till I am blooded by thee.' 
 
 ' Well, I have a room, cousin Robin,' she said, 
 
 * Which you did never see ; 
 And if you please to walk therein. 
 
 You blooded by me shall be.' 
 
 She took him by the lily-white hand, 
 
 And led him to a private room ; 
 And there she blooded bold Robin Hood, 
 
 Whilst one drop of blood would run. 
 
 She blooded him in the vein of the arm. 
 And locked him up in the room ; 
 
 There did he bleed all the live-long day, 
 Until the next day at noon. 
 
 He then bethought him of a casement door. 
 
 Thinking for to begone; 
 He was so weak he could not leap. 
 
 Nor he could not get down. 
 
 He then bethought him of his bugle- horn, 
 Which hung low down to his knee. 
 
 He set his horn unto his mouth. 
 
 And blew out weak blasts three. 
 
 Then Little John, when hearing him. 
 
 As he sat under the tree, 
 * I fear my master is near dead. 
 
 He blows so wearily.' 
 
72 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 Then Little John to fair Kirkley is gone, 
 
 As fast as he can dree; 
 But when he came to Kirkley-hall, 
 
 He broke locks two or three ; 
 
 Until he came bold Robin to, 
 Then he fell on his knee ; 
 
 * A boon, a boon,' cries Little John, 
 
 ' Master, I beg of thee/ 
 
 ' What is that boon,' quoth Robin Hood, 
 
 * Little John, thou begst of me*?' 
 
 * It is to burn fair Kirkley-hall, 
 
 And all their nunnery.' 
 
 * Now nay, now nay,* quoth Robin Hood, 
 
 * That boon I'll not grant thee; 
 I never hurt woman in all my life, 
 
 Nor man in woman's company. 
 
 * I never hurt fair maid in all my time, 
 
 Nor at my end shall it be; 
 But give me my bent bow in my hand. 
 
 And a broad arrow I'll let flee ; 
 And where this arrow is taken up. 
 
 There shall my grave digged be. 
 
 * Lay me a green sod under my head. 
 
 And another under my feet; 
 And lay my bent bow by my side. 
 
 Which was my music sweet ; 
 And make my grave of gravel and green. 
 
 Which is most ri^ht and meet. 
 
 ■^o" 
 
 * Let me have length and breadth enough. 
 With a green sod under my head ; 
 
 That they may say when I am dead, 
 Here lies bold Robin Hood,' 
 
PATIENT GRISSELL. 73 
 
 These words they readily promised him, 
 
 Which did bold Kobin please; 
 And there they buried bold Robin Hood, 
 
 Near to the fair Kirkleys. 
 
 PATIENT GRISSELL. 
 
 [The following ballad is extracted from an old chap-book, in 
 which it is inserted as part of a prose narrative, professing to 
 .be translated out of Italian, entitled, * The Pleasant and Sweet 
 History of Patient Grissell, showing how she, from a poor 
 man's daughter, came to be a great lady in Fame, being a 
 pattern to all virtuous women.' The date of this tract is not 
 known ; but in the introduction to a reprint of it, issued by 
 the Percy Society, the date of the original publication is con- 
 jectured to have been antecedent to 1590. It is not at all 
 improbable that the ballad, afterwards printed separately in 
 the form of a broadside, suggested the prose narrative, which 
 may have been added to enhance its interest. There can be 
 little doubt that the ballad, although assigned by the author 
 to an Italian source, is a genuine English original. Some 
 verbal emendations from the broadside have been incoi*porated 
 in the present text. The story upon which the ballad is 
 founded was first related by Boccaccio ; but there is reason to 
 believe th^t it was known before his time. The earliest 
 English version of it is in the Canterbury Tales. See 
 Chaucer, Ann. Ed., II. 126.] 
 
 I. 
 
 A NOBLE marquess, 
 -^ As he did ride a hunting 
 
 Hard by a forest side, 
 A fair and comely maiden, 
 As she did sit a spinning, 
 
 His gentle eye espied. 
 
74 • EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 Most fair and lovely, 
 
 And of comely grace was she, 
 
 Although in simple attire : 
 She sung full sweetly, 
 With pleasant voice melodiously. 
 
 Which set the lord's heart on fire. 
 The more he looked, the more he might; 
 Beauty bred his heart's delight, 
 And to this comely damsel 
 
 Then he went : 
 
 ' God speed,' quoth he, ^ thou famous flower, 
 Fair mistress of this homely bower. 
 Where love and virtue 
 
 Dwell with sweet content.' 
 
 With comely gesture. 
 
 And modest mild behaviour, 
 
 She bid him welcome then ; 
 She entertained him 
 In faithful friendly manner. 
 
 And all his gentlemen. 
 The noble marquess 
 In's heart felt such a flame. 
 
 Which set his senses all at strife : 
 Quoth he, * Fair maiden, 
 Show me soon what is thy name : 
 
 I mean to make thee my wife.' 
 
 * Grissell is my name,' quoth she, 
 
 * Far unfit for your degree, 
 A silly maiden, 
 
 And of parents poor.' 
 ' Nay, Grissell, thou art rich,' he said, 
 'A virtuous, fair, and comely maid; 
 Grant me thy love. 
 
 And I will ask no more.' 
 
 IL 
 
 At length she consented, 
 And being both contented 
 
PATIENT GRTSSELL. 75 
 
 They married were with speed; 
 Her country russet 
 Was changed to silk and velvet, 
 
 As to her state agreed; 
 And when that she 
 Was trimly tired in the same, 
 
 Her beauty shone most bright, 
 Far staining every 
 Other fair and princely dame, 
 
 That did appear in sight. 
 Many envied her therefore, 
 Because she was of parents poor, 
 And 'twixt her lord and she. 
 
 Great strife did raise. 
 Some said this, and some said that, 
 And some did call her beggar's brat, 
 And to her lord 
 
 They would her oft dispraise. 
 
 * ! noble marquess,' 
 
 Quoth they, * why dost thou wrong us. 
 
 Thus basely for to wed, 
 That might have gotten 
 An honourable lady 
 
 Into your princely bed? 
 Who will not now 
 Your noble issue still deride. 
 
 Which shall hereafter be born. 
 That are of blood so base, 
 Bom by the mother's side. 
 
 The which will bring them in scorn. 
 Put her, therefore, quite away, 
 And take to you a lady gay, 
 Whereby your lineage 
 
 May renowned be.' 
 Thus every day they seemed to prate 
 That maliced Grissell's good estate ; 
 Who all this while 
 
 Took it most patiently. 
 
76 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 IIL 
 
 When that the marquess 
 
 Did see that they were bent thus 
 
 Against his faithful wife, 
 Whom he most dearly, 
 Tenderly, and entirely. 
 
 Beloved as his life; 
 Minding in secret 
 For to prove her patient heart, 
 
 Thereby her foes to disgrace; 
 Thinking to show her 
 A hard discourteous part, 
 
 That men might pity her case. 
 Great with child this lady was. 
 And at last it came to pass. 
 Two goodly children 
 
 At one birth she had : 
 A son and daughter God had sent, 
 Which did their father well content, 
 And which did make 
 
 Their mother's heart full glad. 
 
 Great royal feasting. 
 
 Was at these children's christening, 
 
 And princely triumph made ; 
 Six weeks together. 
 All nobles that came thither. 
 
 Were entertained and stayed; 
 And when all these pleasant 
 Sportings were quite done. 
 
 The marquess a messenger sent 
 For his young daughter. 
 And his pretty smiling son; 
 
 Declaring his full intent. 
 How that the babes must murdered be; 
 For so the marquess did decree. 
 
PATIENT GRISSELL. 77 
 
 * Come, let me have 
 
 The children/ then he said. 
 With that fair Grissell wept' full sore, 
 She wrung her hands, and said no more, 
 ^ My gracious lord 
 
 Must have his will obeyed.' 
 
 IV. 
 
 She took the babies. 
 
 Even from the nursing ladies, 
 
 Between her tender arms; 
 She often wishes 
 With many sorrowful kisses, 
 
 That she might ease their harms. 
 * Farewell, farewell, 
 A thousand times, my children dear, 
 
 Never shall I see you again ; 
 'Tis long of me. 
 Your sad and woeful mother here, 
 
 For whose sake both must be slain. 
 Had I been born of royal race, 
 You might have lived in happy case ; 
 But you must die 
 
 For my unwoi-thiness. 
 Come messenger of death,' quoth she, 
 ' Take my dearest babes to thee. 
 And to their father 
 
 My complaints express.' 
 
 He took the children, 
 And to his noble master, 
 
 He bore them thence with speed ; 
 Who in secret sent them 
 Unto a noble lady. 
 
 To be brought up in deed. 
 
78 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 Then to fair Grissell, 
 With a heavy heart he goes, 
 
 Where she sat mildly all alone: 
 A pleasant gesture, 
 And a lovely look she shows, 
 
 As if* no grief she had known. 
 Quoth he, * My children now are slain ; 
 What thinks fair Grissell of the same ? 
 Sweet Grissell, now 
 
 Declare thy mind to me.' 
 * Sith you, my lord, are pleased with it, 
 Poor Grissell thinks the action fit : 
 Both T and mine 
 
 At your command will be.' 
 
 V. 
 
 'My nobles murmur, 
 
 Fair Grissell, at thy honour, 
 
 And I no joy can have. 
 Till thou be banished, 
 Both from the court and presence 
 
 As they unjustly crave. 
 Thou must be stripped 
 Out of thy stately garments all; 
 
 And as thou cam'st to me. 
 In homely gray. 
 Instead of bisse and purest pall,* 
 
 Now all thy clothing must be : 
 My lady thou must be no more. 
 Nor I thy lord, which grieves me sore. 
 
 * Bisse, or bis, a light blue colour. The terra was also applied to 
 fine silk, without reference to any particular colour. Pall from palla, 
 a robe or mantle. Purple and pall was a frequent phrase, says Percy, 
 for rich purple robes. But pall did not always imply purple. Thus 
 Fletcher : — 
 
 ' Then crowned with triple wreath, and clothed in scarlet pall.' — 
 
 Purple Island. 
 
PATIENT GRISSELL. 79 
 
 The poorest life 
 
 Must now content thy mind. 
 A groat to thee I must not give 
 Thee to maintain while I do live ; 
 Against my Grissell 
 
 Such great foes I find.' 
 
 When gentle Grissell 
 
 Did hear these woeful tidings, 
 
 The tears stood in her eyes, 
 Nothing she answered, 
 No words of discontentment 
 
 Did from her lips arise. 
 Her velvet gown 
 Most patiently she stripped off, 
 
 Her kirtle of silk with the same : 
 Her russet gown 
 Was brought again with many a scoff, 
 
 To bear them herself she did frame. 
 When she was dressed in this array. 
 And was ready to part away, 
 * God send long life 
 
 Unto my lord,' quoth she; 
 ' Let no offence be found in this, 
 To give my love a parting kiss.' 
 With watery eyes, 
 
 * Farewell, my dear,' said he. 
 
 VI. 
 
 From princely palace 
 Unto her father's cottage 
 
 Poor Grissell now is gone. 
 Full sixteen winters 
 She lived there contented ; 
 
 No wrong she thought upon. 
 
80 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 And at that time through 
 All the land the speeches went, 
 
 The marquess should married be 
 Unto a noble lady great, 
 Of high descent ; 
 
 And to the same a]l parties did agree. 
 The marquess sent for Grissell fair, 
 The bride's bed-chamber to prepare 
 That nothing therein 
 
 Might be found awry. 
 The bride was with her brother conie, 
 Which was great joy to all and some; 
 But Grissell took 
 
 All this most patiently. 
 
 And in the morning. 
 
 When as they should be wedded, 
 
 Her patience there was tried : 
 Grissell was charged 
 Herself in friendly manner 
 
 For to attire the bride. 
 Most willingly 
 She gave consent to do the same ; 
 
 The bride in bravery was dressed, 
 And presently 
 The noble marquess thither came 
 
 With all his lords at his request. 
 ' O ! Grissell, I would ask of thee. 
 If to this match thou wilt agree? 
 Methinks thy looks 
 
 Are waxed wondrous coy.' 
 With that they all began to smile, 
 And Grissell she replied the while, 
 *God send lord marquess 
 
 Many years of joy.' 
 
 VII. 
 
 The marquess was moved 
 To see his best beloved 
 
CHEVY CHASE. 81 
 
 Thus patient in distress; 
 He stept unto her, 
 And by the hand he took her, 
 
 These words he did express : — 
 * Thou art my bride, 
 And all the bride I mean to have : 
 
 These two thy own children be.' 
 The youthful lady 
 On her knees did blessing crave, 
 
 Her brother as well as she. 
 ^ And you that envied her estate. 
 Whom I have made my loving mate, 
 Now blush for shame. 
 
 And honour virtuous life. 
 The chronicles of lasting fame 
 Shall evermore extol the name 
 Of patient Grissell, 
 
 My most constant wife.' 
 
 CHEVY CHASE. 
 
 [There are two versions of this ancient ballad : the one pub- 
 lished originally by Hearne, and afterwards by Dr. Percy, from 
 an old MS. ; and the other, a much later copy, probably of the 
 age of Elizabeth, rendered famous by Addison's extravagant 
 criticism. The present text is a transcript of the former, the 
 obsolete orthography being slightly modernized where it is 
 not essential to the antique spirit of the poem. * Certainly/ 
 says Sir Philip Sydney, ' I must confess my own barbarous- 
 ness : I never heard the old song of Percy and Douglas, that 
 I found not my heart moved more than with a trumpet ; and 
 yet is sung but by some blind crowder,* with no rougher voice 
 than rude style.' — Defence of Poetry. The original title of 
 the ballad was The Hunting of the Cheviot. The incidents 
 
 * Fiddler. 
 
 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
82 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 it relates have no further foundation in history than in so far 
 as they bear upon the raids and feuds which frequently aros£ 
 from the invasion of the Marches on hunting expeditions. 
 The old jealousies that raged between the Percy and Douglas 
 families were thus, probably, often embittered ; but there is no 
 authority for the personal conflict which is here described as 
 having taken place between the chieftains. The general 
 features of the ballad, however, no doubt accurately represent 
 the kind of warfare that raged on the borders.] 
 
 THE FIRST FYTTE. 
 
 '^FHE Percy out of ISTorthumberlaiid, 
 -^ And a vow to God made he, 
 That he would hunt in the mountains 
 
 At Cheviot within days three, 
 In the maugre of doughty Douglas, 
 And all that ever with him be. 
 
 The fattest harts in all Cheviot 
 
 He said he would kill, and carry them away ; 
 ' By my faith,' said the doughty Douglas again, 
 
 * I will let that hunting if that I may.' 
 
 Then the Percy out of Banborowe came. 
 
 With him a mighty meany;* 
 With fifteen hundred archers bold, 
 
 They were chosen out of shires three, f 
 
 This began on a Monday at morn. 
 
 In Cheviot the hills so hee : 
 The child may rue that is unborn. 
 
 It was the more pity. 
 
 The drivers thorowe the woodes went 
 
 For to raise the deer; 
 Bowmen bickarte upon the bent 
 
 With their broad arrows clear. 
 
 * Crew, company. Sometimes spelt mayne,audmeyne. Seeawfe,p.43. 
 
 t Probably meaning three districts in Northumbrland, which stillgo 
 
 by the name of shires, and are all in the neighbourhood of Cheviot. — P. 
 
CHEVY CHASE. 83 
 
 Then the wild"^* thorowe the woodes went 
 
 On every side shear ;t 
 Greyhounds thorowe the groves glent 
 
 For to kill their deer. 
 
 They began in Cheviot the hills above 
 
 Early on a monnyn day ; J 
 By that it drew to the hour of noon 
 
 A hundred fat harts dead there lay. 
 
 They blew a niort§ upon the bent, 
 
 They 'sembled on sydis shear ; || 
 To the quarry then the Percy went, 
 
 To see the bryttlynge IF of the deer. 
 
 He said, ^ It was the Douglas' promise 
 
 This day to meet me here; 
 But I wist he would fail verament :' 
 
 A great oath the Percy swear. 
 
 At the last a squire of Northumberland 
 
 Looked at his hand full nigh; 
 He was 'ware o' the doughty Douglas coming, 
 
 With him a mighty meany. 
 
 Both with spear, bill, and brand. 
 
 It was a mighty sight to see ; 
 Hardier men both of heart nor hand 
 
 Were not in Christiante. 
 
 They were twenty hundred spearmen good, 
 
 Withouten any fail; 
 They were born a-long by the water of Tweed, 
 
 In the bounds of Teviotdale. 
 
 * Wild deer. t Entirely. t Monday. 
 
 § The notes blown on the horn at the death of the deer were called 
 the mort. II On all sides. 
 
 ^ The cutting up of the venison. 
 
 G—z 
 
84 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 * Leave off the bryttlyng of the deer/ he said, 
 
 ^ And to your bows look ye take good heed; 
 For never sith ye were on your mothers borne 
 Had ye never so mickle need.' 
 
 The doughty Douglas on a steed 
 
 He rode at his men beforne ; 
 His armour glittered as did a glede;* 
 
 A bolder barne was never born. 
 
 * Tell me what men ye are/ he says, 
 
 * Or whose men that ye be ; 
 Who gave you leave to hunt in this 
 Cheviot chase in the spite of me?' 
 
 The first man that ever him an answer made, 
 It was the good Lord Percy; 
 
 * We will not tell thee what men we are,' he says, 
 
 ^ Nor whose men that we be ; 
 But we will hunt here in this chase 
 In the spite of thine and of thee. 
 
 ^ The fattest harts in all Cheviot 
 
 We have killed, and cast to carry them away.' 
 ' By my troth,' said the doughty Douglas again, 
 
 ^ Therefore the one of us shall die this day,' 
 
 Then said the doughty Douglas 
 Unto the Lord Percy: 
 
 * To kill all these guiltless men, 
 
 Alas! it were great pity. 
 
 * But, Percy, thou art a lord of land, 
 
 * I am an earl called within my country; 
 Let all our men upon a parti stand, 
 
 And do the battle of thee and of me.' 
 
 * A burning coal. 
 
CHEVY CHASE. 85 
 
 ' Now Christ's corse on his crown/ said the Lord 
 Percy, 
 
 * Whosoever thereto says nay, 
 
 By my troth, doughty Douglas,' he says, 
 ' Thou shalt never see that day ; 
 
 * Neither in England, Scotland, nor France, 
 
 Nor for no man of a woman born, 
 But and fortune be my chance, 
 
 I dare meet him on man for on.' * 
 
 Then bespake a squire of Northumberland, 
 E>ic. Wytharyntont was his name: 
 
 * It shall never be told in South-England,' he says, 
 
 * To King Henry the Fourth for shame. 
 
 * I wat ye byn great lordes twa, 
 
 I am a poor squire of land ; 
 I will never see my captain fight on a field, 
 
 And stand myself, and look on; 
 But while I may my weapon wield, 
 
 I will not fail both heart and hand.' 
 
 That day, that day, that dreadful day : 
 
 The first fit here I find. 
 An you will hear anymore athej hunting athe 
 Cheviot, 
 
 Yet is there more behind. 
 
 THE SECOND FYTTE. 
 
 The Englishmen had their bowys ybent, 
 
 Their hearts were good enough; 
 The first of arrows that they shot off. 
 
 Seven score spearmen they sloughe.§ 
 
 * On — one. Man to man. 
 
 t Supposed by Percy to be a corruption of Rog. VTiddrington. 
 
 X Of the. § Slew. 
 
86 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 Yet bides the Earl Douglas upon the bent, 
 
 A captain good enough; 
 And that was seen verament, 
 
 For he wrought them both woe and wouche.* 
 
 The Douglas parted his host in three, 
 Like a cheffe chieftain of pride ; 
 
 With suar spears of mighty tree 
 They come in on every side. 
 
 Thorowe our English archery 
 
 Gave many a wound full wide; 
 
 Many a doughty they garde t to die, 
 Which gained them no pride. 
 
 The Englishe men let their bowys be. 
 
 And pulled out brands that were bright; 
 
 It was a heavy sight to see. 
 
 Bright swords on basenets light. 
 
 Thorowe rich mail, and myne-ye-ple, J 
 
 Many sterne they stroke down straight; 
 
 Many a freyke,§ that was full free. 
 There under foot did light. 
 
 At last the Douglas and the Percy met. 
 Like to captains of might and main; 
 
 They swapt|| together, till they both sweat, 
 With swords that were of fine Milan. 
 
 These worthy freykes for to fight 
 
 Thereto they were full fain. 
 Till the blood out of their basenets sprent, 
 
 As ever did hail or rain. 
 
 * Hold thee, Percy,' said the Douglas, 
 
 ^ And i' faith I shall thee bring 
 Where thou shalt have an earl's wages 
 
 Of Jamy our Scottish King. 
 
 * Mischief. t Caused. 
 
 t A form of many-plie, manifold, from the Fr. plie, a fold or plait. 
 As here applied to armour, it is equivalent to Ovid's expression, where 
 Ajax is called ' he of the seven-fold shield' — cii/pei septempiicis. 
 § Man. II Exchanged blows. 
 
CHEVY CHASE. 87 
 
 * Thou shalt have thy ransom free, 
 
 I hight thee hear this thing, 
 For the manfullest man yet art thou 
 
 That ever I conquered in field fighting.' 
 
 * Nay then,' said the Lord Percy, 
 
 * I told it thee beforne. 
 That I would never yielded be 
 To no man of a woman born.' 
 
 With that there came an arrow hastely 
 
 Forth of a mighty wane,* 
 It hath stricken the Earl Douglas 
 
 In at the breast-bane. 
 
 » ' 
 
 Thorowe liver and lungs both 
 
 The sharp arrow is gone, 
 That never after in all his life days 
 
 He spake mo words but ane. 
 That was, ^ Fight ye, my merry men, whiles ye may, 
 
 For my life days ben gan.' 
 
 The Percy leanyde on his hand. 
 
 And saw the Douglas de; 
 He took the dead man by the hand. 
 
 And said, * Woe is me for thee ! 
 
 * To have saved thy life I would have parted with 
 
 My landes for years three, 
 For a better man of heart, nor of hand. 
 Was not in all the north country.' 
 
 Of all that see a Scottish knight. 
 
 Was called Sir Hugh the Mongon-byrry, t 
 He saw the Douglas to the death was dight. 
 
 He spended J a spear of trusty tree ; 
 
 * One — a mighty man. 
 
 t The Sir Hugh Montgomery of the more modern ballad. 
 
 t Spanned — grasped. 
 
88 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 He rode upon a corsiare* 
 
 Through a hundred archery; 
 He never stinted, nor never blane,t 
 
 Till he came to the good Lord Percy. 
 
 He set upon the Lord Percy 
 
 A dynte J that was full sore ; 
 With a suar spear of a mighty tree 
 
 Clean thorow the body he the Percy bore, 
 
 Athe§ tother side, that a man might see 
 A large cloth yard and mair; 
 
 Two better captains were not in Christiante, 
 Than that day slain were there. 
 
 An archer of Northumberland, 
 
 Saw slain was the Lord Percy, 
 
 He bare a bende-bow in his hand. 
 Was made of trusty tree; 
 
 An arrow, that a cloth yard was lang. 
 
 To th' hard steel halyde he ; 
 A dynte that was both sad and sore. 
 
 He sat on Sir Hugh the Mongon-byrry. 
 
 The dynte it was both sad and sar 
 That he of Mongon-byrry sete ; 
 
 The swan-feathers that his arrows bar, 
 
 With his heart blood they were wete. 
 
 There was never a freyke one foot would flee. 
 
 But still in stour did stand. 
 Hewing on each other, while they might dre,|| 
 
 With many a baleful brand. 
 
 * Courser, 
 t Never slackened his pace, nor stopt on the road. Thus, in the 
 Scotcli ballad of Annan Water : — 
 
 M trow he would neither stint nor stay, 
 For he was seeking his Bonny Ladye.' 
 t Stroke. § See ante, p. 85, wote J. 
 
 n Endure — i. e., as long as they were able. 
 
CHEVY CHASE. 89 
 
 This battle began in Cheviot, 
 
 An hour before the noon, 
 And when even-song bell was rang, 
 
 The battle was not half done. 
 
 They took on on either hand 
 
 By the light of the moon; 
 Many had no strength for to stand. 
 
 In Cheviot the hills aboun. 
 
 Of fifteen hundred archers of England, 
 Went away but fifty and three; 
 
 Of twenty hundred spearmen of Scotland 
 But even five and fifty : 
 
 But all were slain Cheviot witliin; 
 
 They had no strength to stand on high ; 
 The child may rue that is unborn, 
 
 It was the more pity. 
 
 There was slain with the Lord Percy, 
 
 Sir John of Agerstone, 
 Sir Boger the hinde Hartly, 
 
 Sir William the bold Hearone. 
 
 Sir Jorg the worthy Lovele, 
 
 A knight of great renown. 
 Sir Ralph the rich Bugby, 
 
 With dyntes were beaten down. 
 
 For Wytharynton my heart was woe. 
 
 That ever he slain should be ; 
 For when both his legs were hewn in two. 
 
 Yet he kneeled and fought on his knee. 
 
 There was slain with the doughty Douglas, 
 
 Sir Hugh the Mongon-byrry, 
 Sir Davy Lwdale, that worthy was, 
 
 His sister's son was he ; 
 
90 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 Sir Charles a Murre, in that place, 
 
 That never a foot would flee ; 
 Sir Hugh Maxwell, a lord he was, 
 
 With the Douglas did he dey.* 
 
 So on the morrow they made them biers 
 
 Of birch and hazel so gray ; 
 Many widows with weeping tears 
 
 Came to fetch their makes away. 
 
 Teviotdale may carp of care, 
 
 Northumberland may make great moan, 
 For two such captains as slain were there, 
 
 On the March pertit shall never be none. 
 
 Word is cdhie to Edinborough, 
 
 To Jamy, the Scottish King, 
 That doughty Douglas, Lieutenant of the Marches, 
 
 He lay slain Cheviot within. 
 
 His handes did he wail and wring. 
 He said, * Alas ! and woe is me ! 
 
 Such another captain Scotland within,' 
 He said, ' i' faith shall never be.' 
 
 Word is come to lovely London, 
 
 Till to the Fourth Harry our King, 
 
 That Lord Percy, Lieutenant of the Marches, 
 He lay slain Cheviot within. 
 
 * All the names in these stanzas belonged to distinguished families 
 in the North, where most of them still survive. On the Englisli sit3<s 
 Sir John Haggerston, Sir Roger Hartley, Sir William Heron, Sir Jorg 
 Lovell, and Sir Ralph Rokeby. On the Scotch side, Sir Hugh JMont- 
 gomery, lineal ancestor of the Earl of Eglinton ; Sir David Liddel, 
 from whom the present Lord Ravensworth is descended ; Sir Charles 
 Murray of Cockpoole ; and Sir Hugh Maxwell. — See notes in Percy's 
 Reliques, and Scott's Minstrelsy oj the Scottish Border, where doubts 
 are thrown on some of Percy's remarks. See also the same authorities 
 for the names introduced into the ballad of Otterbum. 
 t The parts lying upon the marches. — P. 
 
CHEVY CHASE. 91 
 
 ^ God have mercy on his soul ! ' said King Harry, 
 
 ' Good Lord, if thy will it be ! 
 I have a hundred captains in England/ he said, 
 
 ' As good as ever was he ; 
 But Percy, an I brook my life. 
 
 Thy death well quite shall be.' 
 
 As our noble King made his a-vow, 
 
 Like a noble prince of renown, 
 For the death of the Lord Percy 
 
 He did the battle of Hombyll-down;* 
 
 Where six and thirty Scottish knights 
 
 On a day were beaten down : 
 Glendalet glittered in their armour bright, 
 
 Over castle, tower, and town. 
 
 This was the hunting of the Cheviot ; 
 
 That tear began this spurn ; J 
 Old men that knowen the ground well enough 
 
 Call it the battle of Otterburn. 
 
 At Otterburn began this spurn, 
 
 Upon a monnyn day; 
 There was the doughty Douglas slain, 
 
 The Percy never went away. 
 
 There was never a time on the March partes 
 Since the Douglas and Percy met, 
 
 But it was marvele an the red blood ran not. 
 As the rain does in the street. 
 
 * The battle of Humbledon was fought Sept. 14, 1403, in a field 
 below the village of that name near Wooler, in Northumberland The 
 English were commanded by the Earl of Northumberland and his son 
 Hotspur, and gained a complete victory over the Scotch. — P. 
 
 t Grlendale Ward, in which is situated the village of Humbledon. 
 
 t This seems to be a proverb : ' That tearing or pulling occasioned 
 this spurn or kick.' 
 
92 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 Jesu Christ our balys bete,* 
 And to the bliss us bring ! 
 
 Thus was the hunting of the Cheviot ; 
 God send us all good ending. 
 
 THE BATTLE OF OTTEKBURN. 
 
 [This ballad may be regarded as the sequel to Chevy Chase, 
 over which it possesses the advantage of relating an historical 
 fact. The battle of Otterburn took place early in August, 
 1388. The Scots, headed by some of the principal nobility, 
 with a force of 40,000 men, entered Northumberland and 
 Durham, and, after wasting the country, advanced to New- 
 castle, which was defended by Henry Percy, the renowned 
 Hotspur, son of the Earl of Northumberland. In a skirmish 
 which took place under the walls, Douglas took Percy's lance, 
 with the pennon attached to it, and swore he would carry it 
 to Scotland as a trophy, and plant it upon the keep of Dal- 
 keith Castle. Percy swore he would redeem it, and he kept 
 his word. The Scots retired, and encamped at Otterburn, and 
 Percy, collecting his strength, surprised their camp at night, 
 and threw them into confusion. The battle was fought by 
 moonlight with the utmost desperation on both sides. Doug- 
 las, rushing into the thick of the English battalions, was 
 liilled, and the fight was renewed over his body. Towards 
 morning, victory, whi^ih had hitherto favoured the English, 
 began to incline to the Scots, who, having succeeded in making 
 prisoners of Hotspur and his brother, were left, according to 
 their own historians, masters of the field. The accounts given 
 of the battle by the Scotch and English are highly coloured by 
 national partiality as to the relative strength of the armies, 
 and the final result ; but they all agree in testifying to the 
 sanguinary character of the contest, and the bravery of the 
 
 * Abate, or amend our ills. 
 
THE BATTLE OF OTTERBURN. 93 
 
 combatants. The ballad- writers are strongly tinged with the 
 prejudices of the historians, and in the following piece, as in 
 Chevy Chase^ the glory of succeeding against superior num- 
 bers is given to the English. The Scots, however, have taken 
 their revenge in a ballad of their own, in which they have 
 thrown the odds on the other side. It is printed in Scott's 
 Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, but is meagre and spirit- 
 less in comparison with the English song. Whether The 
 Battle of Otterhurn was written before or after Chevy Chase, 
 or by the same or a different hand, must be left to conjecture. 
 The internal evidence is in favour of the supposition that they 
 were both written by the same person. There is a strong 
 similarity between them in style and diction, and they have 
 not only particular turns of expression, but whole lines, and 
 even one or two entire stanzas in common.] * 
 
 THE FIRST FYTTE. 
 
 TT fell about the Lammas tide, 
 -*- When husbands winn their hay,* 
 The doughty Douglas bound him to ride 
 Into England to take a prey. 
 
 The Earl of Fife, withouten strife. 
 
 He bound him over Solway ; 
 The great would ever together ride; 
 
 That race they may rue for aye. 
 
 Over Ottercap hill they came in. 
 
 And so down by Rotheley crag. 
 
 Upon Green Leighton they lighted down, 
 Styrande many a stag; 
 
 And boldly brente Northumberland, 
 
 And harried many a town; 
 They did our Englishmen great wrong 
 
 To battle that were not bown. 
 
 * When hnsbandmen get in their hay. In the Scotch ballad, •' muir- 
 men' are substituted. 
 
94 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 Then spake a berne* upon the bent,t 
 Of comfort that was not cold, 
 
 And said, ^ We have brent e Northumberland, 
 We have all wealth in holde. 
 
 ^ Now we have harried all Bamborough shire, 
 All the wealth in the world have we ; 
 
 I rede J we ride to Newcastle, 
 So still and stalworthlye.' 
 
 Upon the morrow, when it was day, 
 The standards shone full bright ; 
 
 To the Newcastle they took the way, 
 And thither they came full right. 
 
 Sir Henry Percy lay at the Newcastle, 
 I tfell you, withouten dread; 
 
 He has been a March-man all his days, 
 And kept Berwick upon Tweed. 
 
 To the Newcastle when they came. 
 The Scots they cried on hyght : 
 
 * Sir Harry Percy, an thou bist within, 
 
 Come to the field and fight : 
 
 ' For we have brente Northumberland, 
 Thy. heritage good and right ; 
 
 And syne my lodging I haA^e take. 
 
 With my brand dubbed many a knight.' 
 
 Sir Harry Percy came to the walls, 
 The Scottish host for to see : 
 
 * And thou hast brente Northumberland, 
 
 Pull sore it rueth me. 
 
 * If thou hast harried all Bamborough shire, 
 
 Thou hast done me great envy ; 
 For the trespass thou hast me done, 
 The one of us shall die.' 
 
 * Strictly, a child — as, child Roland. f Field. % Counsel. 
 
THE BATTLE OF OTTERBUKN. 95 
 
 * Where shall I bide thee]' said the Douglas; 
 
 ' Oi where wilt thou come to ine 1 ' 
 ' At Otterburn in the high way, 
 
 There mayst thou well lodged be.'"* 
 
 ' The roe full reckless there she runs, 
 
 To make thee game and glee; 
 The falcon and the pheasant both, 
 
 Among the holtest on hee. 
 
 ^ There mayst thou have thy wealth at will, 
 Well lodged there mayst thou be ; 
 
 It shall not be long ere T come thee till,' 
 Said Sir Harry Percye. 
 
 ' There shall I bide thee,' said the Douglas, 
 
 ^ By the faith of my body.' 
 ' Thither shall I come,' said Sir Harry Percy, 
 
 ' My troth I plight to thee.' 
 
 A pipe of wine he gave them over the walls, 
 
 For sooth, as I you say; 
 There he made the Douglas drink, 
 
 And all his host that day. 
 
 The Douglas turned him homeward again, 
 
 For sooth withouten nay; 
 He took his lodging at Otterburn 
 
 Upon a Wednesday; 
 
 And there he pyght J his standard down, 
 
 His getting § more and less; 
 And syne he warned his men to go 
 
 And get their geldings gress. 
 
 * Otterburn is within about thirty miles of Newcastle, and the 
 ground where the battle was fought is still called Battle-Cross. It will 
 be seen by the description in the ballad that the Scottish force 
 came into England in two divisions ; that under the Earl of Fife over 
 the Solway, by way of Carlisle ; and that under Douglas, from the 
 ivestward, by Redesdale, Kotheley-craigs, and Green Leighton. 
 t Woods. I Pitched. § Plunder. 
 
96 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 A Scottish knight hoved upon the bent, 
 
 A watch I dare well say; 
 So was he ware on the noble Percy 
 
 In the dawning of the day. 
 
 He pricked to his pavilion door, 
 As fast as he might ronne ; 
 
 * Awaken, Douglas!' cried the knight, 
 
 * For His love that sits in throne. 
 
 'Awaken, Douglas!' cried the knight, 
 
 * For thou mayst waken with wynne ; '' 
 Yonder have I spied the proud Percy, 
 
 And seven standards with him.' 
 
 * Nay, by my troth,' the Douglas said, 
 
 ' It is but a feigned tale ; 
 He durst not look on my broad banner. 
 For all England so hayle.t 
 
 *■ Was I not yesterday at the Newcastle, 
 That stands so fair on Tynel 
 
 For all the men the Percy had. 
 
 He could not garre me once to dyne.' % 
 
 * Joy. t In this sense, so strong. 
 
 % The meaning of this line is obscure. Literally it would be, ' ha 
 could not compel me once to thine,' unless we are to read ' dine,' 
 which would be equally unintelligible. Mr. King, in his Selec- 
 tions from the Early Ballad Poetry^ suggests that perhaps the true 
 reading is — 
 
 • He could not garre me once to tyne; 
 
 but this does not clear up the difficulty satisfactorily. To tyne, if it were 
 used here, would probably mean to enclose, or shut up, or to lose. It 
 has other meanings as a substantive — a pledge, a forfeit, an instant of 
 time. The Scotch ballad, in this place, reads — 
 
 For Percy had not men yestreen 
 To dight my men and me ; 
 
 which implies that Percy had not men enough io dispose of the 
 Douglas and his host. 
 
THE BATTLE OF OTTERBUEN. 97 
 
 He stepped out at his pavilion door, 
 
 To look, and it were less; 
 'Array you, lordyngs, one and all, 
 
 For here begins no peace. 
 
 * The Earl of Menteith, thou art my erne,* 
 
 The forward I give to thee; 
 The Earl of Huntley cawtet and keen, 
 He shall with thee be. J 
 
 * The Lord of Buchan, in armour bright, 
 
 On the other hand he shall be; 
 Lord Johnstone, and Lord Maxwell, 
 They two shall be with me. 
 
 * Swynton fair field upon your pride 
 
 To battle make you bowen; 
 Sir Davy Scot, Sir Walter Steward, 
 Sir John of Agerstone.' 
 
 THE SECOND FYTTE. 
 
 The Percy came before his host. 
 
 Which ever was ^ gentle knight, 
 
 Upon the Douglas loud did he cry, 
 ' I will hold that I have hight ; § 
 
 ' For thou hast brente Northumberland, 
 
 And done me great envy; 
 For this trespass thou hast me done 
 
 The one of us shall die. 
 
 The Douglas answered him again, 
 With great words up on hee,|| 
 
 And said, ' I have twenty against thy one, 
 Behold, and thou mayst see.' 
 
 * Uncle. t Cautious. 
 
 t This shows that the ballad was not composed before 1449; for in 
 that year Alexander, Lord of Gordon and Huntley, was created Earl 
 of Huntley.— P. 
 
 § Promised. In a loud voice. 
 
 EARLY BALLADS. 7 
 
98 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 With that the Percy was grieved sore. 
 
 For sooth as I you say; 
 He lighted down upon his foot, 
 
 And shot his horse clean away. 
 
 Every man saw that he did so, 
 
 That ryall was ever in rout ; 
 Every man shot his horse him fro, 
 
 And light him round about. 
 
 Thus Sir Harry Percy took the field, 
 
 For sooth as I you say; 
 Jesu Christ in heaven on high, 
 
 Did help him well that day. 
 
 But nine thousand, there was no more, 
 
 If chronicle will not layne;* 
 Forty thousand Scots and four 
 
 That day fought them again. 
 
 But when the battle began to join, 
 
 In haste there came a knight. 
 Then letters fair forth hath he ta'en. 
 
 And thus he said full right : 
 
 * My lord, your father he greets you well, 
 
 With many a noble knight; 
 He desires you to bide, 
 
 That he may see this fight. 
 
 * The baron of Grastock is come out of the west, 
 
 With him a noble company ; 
 All they lodge at your father's this night, 
 And the battle fain would they see.' 
 
 * For Jesu's love,' said Sir Harry Percy, 
 
 * That died for you and me, 
 Wend to my lord, my father, again, 
 
 And say thou saw me not with ee; 
 
 * Conceal. 
 
THE BATTLE OF OTTERBURN. 99 
 
 * My troth is plight to yon Scottish knight, 
 
 It needs me not to layne, 
 That I should bide him upon this bent, 
 And I have his troth again ; 
 
 * And if that I wend off this ground, 
 
 For sooth unfoughten away, 
 He would me call but a coward knight, 
 In his land another day. 
 
 * Yet had I lever to be rynde* and rent, 
 
 By Mary that mykel may,t 
 Than ever my manhood should be reproved 
 With a Scot another day. 
 
 * Wherefore shoot, archers, for my sake, 
 
 And let sharp arrows flee ; 
 Minstrels, play up for your warison,J 
 And well quit it shall be. 
 
 ' Every man think on his true love, 
 
 And mark him to the Trinity; 
 For to God I make mine a-vow 
 
 This day will I not flee.' 
 
 The bloody heart in the Douglas' arms, 
 
 His standard stood on high, 
 That every man might full well know ; 
 
 Beside stood starres three. § 
 
 The white Lion on the English part. 
 
 For sooth as I you sayne. 
 The luces and the crescents both; 
 
 The Scots fought them again. 
 
 » Tom, stripped. t Great maid. 
 
 X The reward to be bestowed when the battle was over. 
 § In the arms of the Douglas the heart is crowned and surmounted 
 by three stars. 
 
 7—z 
 
100 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 Upon Saint Andrew loud did they cry, 
 And thrice they shout on hyght, 
 
 And syne marked them on our Englishmen, 
 As I have told you right. 
 
 Saint George the bright, our Lady's knight. 
 
 To name they were full fain, 
 Our Englishmen they cried on hyght, 
 
 And thrice they shout again. 
 
 With that sharp arrows began to flee, 
 
 I tell you in certain ; 
 Men of arms began to join; 
 
 Many a doughty man was there slain. 
 
 The Percy and the Douglas met, 
 
 That either of them was fain ; ' 
 
 They schapped together, while that they sweat. 
 With swords of fine Collayne ; ■^" 
 
 Till the blood from their basenets ran 
 As the roket doth in the rain. 
 
 ^ Yield thee to me,' said the Douglas, 
 ' Or else thou shalt be slain ; 
 
 ' For I see by thy bright basenet. 
 Thou art some man of might ; 
 
 And so I do by thy burnished brand, 
 
 Thou art an earl, or else a knight.' J 
 
 * Cologne. The same passage, including two lines of the subse- 
 quent stanza, occurs in nearly the same words in Chevy Chase, except 
 that the swords are there of Milan steel. — See ante, p. 85 ; also in the 
 Scotch ballad of Otterburn : — 
 
 * When Percy and the Douglas met 
 
 I wat he was fu' fain ! 
 They swakked their swords, till fain they swat, 
 
 And the blood ran down like rain.' 
 
 t Mist, steam. 
 
 X It somewhat diminishes the dramatic interest of the combat that 
 Douglas should have been unable to recognize Percy, who was cased 
 in armour. 
 
THE BATTLE OF OTTERBURN. 101 
 
 By my good faith/ said the noble Percy, 
 
 ^ Now hast thou rede full right ; 
 ^et will I never yield me to thee, 
 While I may stand and fight.' 
 
 They swapped together, while that they sweat, 
 
 With swordes sharp and long; 
 Each on other so fast they beat, 
 
 Till their helms came in pieces down. 
 
 The Percy was a man of strength, 
 
 I tell you in this stound ;* 
 He smote the Douglas at the sword's length, 
 
 That he felled him to the ground. 
 
 The sword was sharp, and sore did byte, 
 
 I tell you in certain; 
 To the heart he did him smite. 
 
 Thus was the Douglas slain. 
 
 The standards stood still on each side; 
 
 With many a grievous groan. 
 There they fought the day, and all the night, 
 
 And many a doughty man was slone. 
 
 There was no freyke that there would fly. 
 
 But stiffly in stour did stand,t 
 Echone hewing on other while they might dry, J 
 
 With many a baleful brand. 
 
 There was slain upon the Scott es side, 
 
 For sooth and certainly. 
 Sir James of Douglas there was slain, 
 
 That day that he did die. 
 
 The Earl of Monteith he was slain 
 
 Grysely groaned upon the ground; 
 
 Sir Davy Scot, Sir Walter Steward, 
 Sir John of Agerstone. 
 
 * Moment. t Stood firmly, inflexibly 
 
 X As long as they were able. 
 
102 EAELY BALLADS. 
 
 Sir Charles Murray in that place, 
 That never a foot would fly ; 
 
 Sir Hugh Maxwell, a lord he was, 
 With the Douglas did he die. 
 
 There was slain upon the Scottes side, 
 
 For sooth as I you say, 
 Of four and forty thousand Scots, 
 
 Went but eighteen away. 
 
 There was slain upon the English side, 
 For sooth and certainly, 
 
 A gentle knight. Sir John Fitzhugh, 
 It was the more pity. 
 
 Sir James Harebotell there was slain, 
 For him their hearts were sore ; 
 
 The gentle Lovel there was slain. 
 That the Percy's standard bore. 
 
 There was slain upon the English side, 
 
 For sooth as I you say, 
 Of nine thousand Englishmen, 
 
 Five hundred came away; 
 
 The others were slayne in the field, . 
 
 Christ keep their souls from woe. 
 Seeing there were so few friends 
 
 Against so many a foe ! 
 
 Then on the morn they made them biens 
 Of birch and hazel gray ; 
 
 Many a widow with weeping tears 
 Their makes they fetch away.* 
 
 This fray began at Otterbum, 
 
 Between the night and the day ; 
 
 There the Douglas lost his life, 
 
 And the Percy was led away.t 
 
 ♦ This pathetic verse is also found in Chevy Chase, see ante, p. 90, 
 t The close of the fight is described in nearly the same terms in the 
 Scotch ballad where it is incorrectly stated tiaat Douglas was buried 
 
EDOM O' GOKDON. 103 
 
 Then was there a Scottish prisoner ta'en, 
 Sir Hugh Montgomery was his name, 
 
 For sooth as I you say, 
 
 He borrowed the Percy home again. ^'' 
 
 Now let us all for the Percy pray, 
 
 To Jesu most of might, 
 To bring his soul to the bliss of heaven, 
 
 For he was a gentle knight. 
 
 EDOM O' GORDON. 
 
 A SCOTTISH BALLAD. 
 
 [We have here another illustration of the Border feuds ; in 
 this instance, from a Scotch source. The stronghold of the 
 Gordons was in Berwickshire; and Adam Gordon, who was 
 deputy for his brother, the Earl of Huntley, committed various 
 depredations under the colour of his authority. In one of his 
 ravaging expeditions he killed Arthur Forbes, brother to Lord 
 Forbes ; and not long afterwards he summoned the house of 
 Tavoy, which belonged to Alexander Forbes, when the tragedy 
 occurred which forms the subject of the ballad. The lady 
 refused to surrender, without the sanction of her husband ; 
 upon which Adam Gordon fired the castle, and the lady, to- 
 gether with her children and servants, twenty-seven persons 
 in all, perished in the flames. The fact is related by Spottis- 
 woode in his Sistoi^y of the Church of Scotland.^ 
 
 in ♦ the braken bush.' • He was not buried,' says Scott, • on the field of 
 battle, but in Melrose Abbey, where his tomb is still shown.' The spot 
 where he fell is marked by an obelisk, fifteen feet high, called the 
 Battle Stone. There are other local memorials of the battle retained 
 to this day ; amongst them a cross called Percy's Cross, and a spring in 
 the neighbouring meadows known as Percy's Well. 
 
 * That is, was exchanged for him. , 
 
104 EAKLY BALLADS. 
 
 TT fell about the Martinmas, 
 -^ When the wind blew shrill and cauld, 
 Said Edom o' Gordon to his men, 
 * We maun draw till a hauld.* 
 
 ' And what a hauld sail we draw till. 
 
 My merry men and me? 
 We wul gae to the house o' the E;odes,t 
 
 To see that fair ladie.' 
 
 The lady stood on her castle wa', 
 Beheld baith dale and down : 
 
 There she was 'ware of a host of men 
 Cum riding towards the toun. 
 
 ^ see ye nat, my meriy men slI 
 
 see ye nat what I see? 
 Methinks I see a host of men ; 
 
 1 marvel wha they be.' 
 
 She weened it had been her luvely lord. 
 
 As he cam riding hame ; 
 It was the traitor Edom o' Gordon, 
 
 Wha reckt nae sin nor shame. 
 
 She had nae sooner buskit hirsel, 
 
 And putten on her goun, 
 But Edom o' Gordon and his men 
 
 Were round about the toun. 
 
 They had nae sooner supper set, 
 ISTae sooner said the grace, 
 
 Than Edom o' Gordon and his men 
 Were light about the place. 
 
 * Hold, 
 t The house, or castle, of the Rodes was situated near Duns in 
 Berwickshire. 
 
EDOM O' GORDON. 105 
 
 The lady rau up to her tower head, 
 
 So fast as she could hie, 
 To see if by her fair speeches 
 
 She could wi' him agree. 
 
 But whan he see this lady saif 
 
 And her gates all locked fast, 
 He fell into a rage of wrath, 
 
 And his look was all aghast. 
 
 * Cum down to me, ye lady gay, 
 
 Cum down, cum down to me ; 
 
 This night sail ye lig within mine arms, 
 
 To-morrow my bride sail be.' 
 
 ^ I winna cum down, ye false Gordon, 
 
 I winna cum down to thee; 
 I winna forsake my ain dear lord, 
 
 That is sae far frae me.' 
 
 * Give owre your house, ye lady fair, 
 
 Give owre your house to me, 
 Or I sail brenn yoursel therein, 
 Bot and your babies three.' 
 
 * I winna give owre, ye false Gordon, 
 
 To nae sik traitor as ye ; 
 And if ye brenn my ain dear babes, 
 My lord sail make ye drie. 
 
 ' But reach my pistol, Glaud, my man. 
 
 And charge ye weil my gun; 
 For, but an I pierce that bluidy butcher, 
 
 My babes we been undone.' 
 
 She stood upon her castle wa', 
 
 And let twa bullets flee; 
 She mist that bluidy butcher's heart, 
 
 And only razed his knee. 
 
 
106 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 ^ Set fire to the house!' quo' false Gordon, 
 All wood wi' dule and ire; 
 
 ' False lady, ye sail rue this deid. 
 As ye bren in the fire.' 
 
 ^ Wae worth, wae worth ye, Jock my man, 
 
 I paid ye well your fee; 
 Why pu' ye out the ground-wa' stane,. 
 
 Lets in the reek to me? 
 
 ' And ein wae worth ye, Jock, my man, 
 
 I paid ye well your hire ; 
 Why pu' ye out the ground-wa' stane 
 
 To me lets in the fireT 
 
 ^ Ye paid me well my hire, lady; 
 
 Ye paid me weil my fee : 
 But now I'm Edom o' Gordon's man, 
 
 Maun either do or die.' 
 
 O, then bespaik her little son, 
 
 Sate on the nurse's knee : 
 Says, * Mither dear, gi' owre this house. 
 
 For the reek it smithers me.' 
 
 * I wad gie a' my gowd, my child, 
 
 Sae wald I a' my fee. 
 For ane blast o' the western wind, 
 
 To blaw the reek frae thee.' 
 
 O, than bespaik her dochter dear. 
 She was baith jimp and sma : 
 
 ^ 0, row me in a pair of sheits. 
 And tow me owre the wa.' 
 
 They rowd her in a pair of sheits. 
 And towd her owre the wa' ; 
 
 But on the point of Gordon's spear, 
 She gat a deadly fa'. 
 
EDOM O" GORDON. 107 
 
 O, bonnie bonnie was her mouth, 
 
 And cheiTy were her cheiks, 
 And clear, clear was her yellow hair, 
 
 Whereon the reid bluid dreips. 
 
 Then wi' his spear he turned her owre, 
 
 O, gin her face was wan ! 
 He said, ^ Ye are the first that eir 
 
 I wished alive again.' 
 
 He turned her owre and owre again, 
 0, gin her skin was white ! 
 
 * I might ha' spared that bonnie face 
 
 To hae been some man's delight! 
 
 * Busk and boun, my merry men a', 
 
 For ill dooms I do guess ; 
 T canna luik in that bonnie face. 
 As it lyes on the grass.' 
 
 * Thame luiks to freits,* my master-deir, 
 
 Then freits will follow thame : 
 Let it neir be said brave Edom o' Gordon 
 Was daunted by a dame.' 
 
 But when the ladye see the fire 
 
 Cum flaming owre her head. 
 She wept and kist her children twain, 
 
 Said, * Bairns, we been but dead.' 
 
 The Gordon then his bugle blew, 
 
 And said, * Awa', awa' ! 
 This house o' the Bodes is a' in. flame, 
 
 I hauld it time to ga'.' 
 
 0, then bespyed her ain dear lord, 
 
 As he cam owre the lee; 
 He sied his castle all in a blaze, 
 
 Sae far as he could see. 
 
 * 111 omens. They who look to ill omens will be followed by ill 
 luck. 
 
108 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 Then sair, sair, his mind misgave, 
 And all his heart was wae; 
 
 ^ Put on, put on, my wighty men, 
 So fast as ye can gae. 
 
 ^ Put on, put on, my wighty men, 
 
 So fast as ye can drie; 
 For he that is hindmost of the throng 
 
 Sail neir get guid o' me.' 
 
 Then some they rade, and some they rin, 
 Fu' fast out owre the bent; 
 
 But eir the foremost could get up, 
 
 Baith lady and babes were brent. 
 
 He wrang his hands, he rent his hair, 
 And wept in teenfu' muid : 
 
 * traitors! for this cruel deid 
 Ye sail weep teirs o' bluid.' 
 
 And after the Gordon he is gane, 
 
 Sae fast as he might drie : 
 And soon i' the Gordon's foul heart's bluid 
 
 He's wroken his dear lady. 
 
 KING Arthur's death. 
 
 [It is to be regretted that this ballad cannot be given exactly 
 in its original form. Dr. Percy, whose text is here followed, 
 finding it imperfect in the MS., tells us that he added some 
 * conjectural emendations, and even a supplement of some 
 three or four stanzas composed from the romance of Morte 
 d' Arthur.* It would have been more satisfactory had he 
 pointed out the interpolations. 
 
 The ballad, which carries upon the whole evident marks of 
 antiquity, is scarcely equal to its subject, one of the finest 
 in the region of early chivalry and romance ; but its inser- 
 
KING Arthur's death. 109 
 
 tion is indispensable in a collection of this nature. The main 
 thread of the story is taken from the death, or disappearance, 
 of King Arthur, as related in the prose romance. The battle 
 in which the legendary monarch, * whose sword extended from 
 Scandinavia to Spain,' received his last wound, took place at 
 Camlan, supposed to be Camelford, near Tintagel, in Cornwall. 
 * Traditions of a fierce engagement are still preserved in this 
 district,' says Mr. King ; * a ford across the Camel is known 
 as the Bloody Bridge ; and about one hundred yards farther 
 up, on the bank of the stream, is a fallen maen, of the later 
 British era, having the name of Arthur inscribed on its lower 
 side ; it was standing in Polwhele's time ; tumuli are frequent 
 in the neighbourhood.' 
 
 The way in which King Arthur originally acquired the 
 throne, and the famous sword, Caliburn, or Excalibar, which 
 figures so conspicuously in the legend, may be briefly noticed 
 in illustration of the subject of the ballad. After the death 
 of Uther Pendragon, the nobles of Britain assembled to elect 
 a successor, but were unable to agree. In this difficulty they 
 happened to discover, close to the place of debate, a large 
 stone in which a sword was inserted as in a sheath, with an 
 inscription round it in gold letters, signifying that whoever 
 should draw the sword was rightful heir to the throne. 
 Several made the attempt, and failed ; when Arthur, who had 
 been previously unknown, advanced, and, drawing it out with 
 ease, was immediately elected king. 
 
 The narrative of his last battle, as preserved by oral tradition, 
 and chronicled in many an ancient rhyme, embodies the tra- 
 dition of his immortality which is not to be found in the 
 Morte d' Arthur, and which has passed into an article of faith 
 in Brittany and Wales. Seeing his army destroyed, and 
 finding hipself mortally wounded, as the legend runs, he 
 commissioned one of his knights to fling his sword into the 
 lake. As it was descending, a hand and arm rose out of the 
 water^ seized the weapon, brandished it three times, and then 
 vanished under the waves. Upon this Arthur entered a boat 
 which was moored close to the border, and was received by 
 
110 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 Viviane, the Lady of the Lake, Morgan la Fay, and other 
 ladies, who conveyed him to the isle of Avalon, in Fairy 
 Land, where they healed his wounds, and where he remained 
 living in luxury, and awaiting the time when he was to 
 return to the earth and resume his throne. The tradition is 
 dimly indicated at the close of the ballad, which, in this 
 particular, deviates slightly from the romance. 
 
 The belief that Arthur would one day return was long held 
 by the Bretons. At their religious solemnities they always 
 chaunted, says Villeraarque, the ancient refrain, * Non ! le roi 
 Arthur n'est pas mort!* and whenever a battle was about to 
 take place, Arthur, at the head of his army, was supposed to 
 be seen coursing in the grey light of the dawn over the peaks 
 of the highest mountains, either coming to protect his people, 
 or warning them to arm. A similar creed was held in 
 Wales, the popular idea that he was still living being sup- 
 ported by the assertion that the place of his sepulture was 
 unknown. * This tradition,' observes Lady Charlotte Schrieber, 
 * was current for many ages, and is found among the Welsh in 
 the memorials of the Graves of the Warriors ; — 
 
 * The grave of March is this, and this the grave of Gwythyr, 
 Here is the grave of Gwgawn Gleddyfrudd, 
 But unknown is the grave of Arthur.' ' 
 
 A very remarkable instance of the derivation of the Breton 
 and Welsh legends from a common source may be traced in 
 The Lady of the Fountain, published in the Mahinogion, 
 and La Dame de la Fontaine, in Villemarque's Contes 
 Populaires des Anciens Bretonsi] 
 
 C\^ Trinity Monday in the morn, 
 " This sore battkyle was doomed to be; 
 Where many a knight cried, ' Well-avvaye ! 
 Alack, it was the more pity. 
 
 Ere the first crowing of the cock, 
 
 When as the king in his bed lay, 
 
 He thought Sir Gawaine to him came, 
 
 And there to him these words did say: 
 
KING Arthur's death. Ill 
 
 • 
 ' Now, as ye are mine uncle dear, 
 
 And as you prize your life, this day 
 
 meet not with your foe in fight; 
 
 Put off the battayle, if ye may; 
 
 For Sir Launcelot is now in France, 
 And with him many a hardy knight, 
 Who will within this month be back, 
 And will assist ye in the fight.' 
 
 The king then called his nobles all. 
 
 Before the breaking of the day; 
 And told them how Sir Gawaine came 
 
 And there to him these words did say. 
 
 His nobles all this counsel gave. 
 
 That, early in the morning, he 
 Should send away an Herald at arms 
 
 To ask a parley fair and free. 
 
 Then twelve good knights King Arthur chose, 
 The best of all that with him were, 
 
 To parley with the foe in field. 
 
 And make with him agreement fair. 
 
 The king he charged all his host, 
 
 In readiness there for to be : 
 But no man should no weapon stir. 
 
 Unless a sword drawn they should see. 
 
 And Mordred on the other part, 
 
 Twelve of his knights did likewise bring; 
 The best of all his company, 
 
 To hold the parley with the king. 
 
 Sir Mordred also charged his host, 
 
 In readiness there for to be ; 
 But no man should no weapon stir, 
 
 But if a sword dr^wn they should see. 
 
112 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 For he durst not his uncle trust, 
 
 Nor he his nephew, sooth to tell : 
 
 Alack! it was a woeful case. 
 
 As e'er in Christentie befel. 
 
 But when they were together met, 
 
 And both to fair accordance brought; 
 
 And a month's league between them set, 
 Before the battayle should be fought; 
 
 An adder crept forth of a bush, 
 
 Stung one o' the king's knights on the knee : 
 Alack 1 it was a woeful chance, 
 
 As ever was in Christentie. 
 
 When the knight found him wounded sore, 
 And saw the wild- worm hanging there, 
 
 His sword he from his scabbard drew ; 
 A piteous case as ye shall hear. 
 
 For when the two hosts saw the sword, 
 They joined battayle instantly : 
 
 Till of so many noble knights, 
 
 On one side there were left but three. 
 
 For all were slain that durst abide. 
 
 And but some few that fled away: 
 
 Ay me ! it was a bloody field. 
 
 As e'er was fought on summer's day. 
 
 Upon King Arthur's own party, 
 
 Only himself escaped there. 
 And Lukyn, Duke of Gloster, free. 
 
 And the king's butler, Bedevere. 
 
 And when the king beheld his knights. 
 
 All dead and scattered on the mould ; 
 
 The tears fast trickled down his face ; 
 That manly face in fight so bold. 
 
KING AKTHUR's death. 113 
 
 ^ "Now rest ye all, brave knights/ lie said, 
 * So true and faithful to your trust ; 
 
 And must ye then, ye valiant hearts, 
 Be left to moulder into dust? 
 
 ' Most loyal have ye been to me, 
 
 Most true and faithful unto death : 
 
 And, oh ! to raise ye up again, 
 
 How freely could I yield my breath ! 
 
 * But see the traitor's yet alive, 
 
 Lo, where he stalks among the dead ! 
 
 Now bitterly he shall abye. 
 
 And vengeance fall upon his head.' 
 
 < 0, stay, my liege,' then said the duke 
 
 * stay for love and charitie ; 
 Hemember what the vision spake, 
 
 Nor meet your foe, if it may be. 
 
 ' 0, stay me not, thou worthy wight, 
 This debt my loyal knights I owe : 
 
 Betide me life, betide me death, 
 
 I will avenge them of their foe.' 
 
 Then straight he grasped his trusty spear. 
 And on his horse then mounted he : 
 
 As his butler holpe him to his horse. 
 His bowels gushed to his knee. 
 
 ^ Alas ! ' then said the noble king, 
 
 ' That I should live this sight to see ! 
 
 To see this good knight here be slain, 
 All for his love in helping me!' 
 
 He put his spear into his rest. 
 
 And to Sir Mordred loud gan cry — 
 
 ' Now set thyself upon thy guard, 
 
 For, traitor, now thy death is nigh.* 
 
 EARLY BALLADS. 8 
 
114 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 Sir Mordi'ed lifted up his sword, 
 
 And fierce to meet the king ran he : 
 
 The king his spear he through him thrust ; 
 A fathom thorow his bodie. 
 
 When Mordred felt the stroke of death, 
 And found that he was wounded so ; 
 
 He thrust himself upon the spear, 
 
 And struck the king a deadly blow. 
 
 Then grimly died Sir Mordered, 
 
 Presently upon that tree ; 
 And bloody streams ran from the king 
 
 Ere to the duke returned he. 
 
 Sir Lukyn then he thus bespake, 
 
 'Sir knight thou hast been faithful tried, 
 Now take my sword Excalibar, 
 
 That hangs so freely by my side ; 
 
 ' take my sword Excalibar, 
 
 And there into the river throw : 
 
 For here, henceforth, beneath this tree, 
 All use of weapons I forego. 
 
 ' And fare thee well, thou trusty sword, 
 A better ne'er had valiant knight, 
 
 With thee full oft, and many a day. 
 Have I withstood my foe in fight. 
 
 * With this good falchion in my hand, 
 Oft have I reaped the bloody field : 
 
 But now the fatal hour is come, 
 
 That never more I may thee wield.' 
 
 The duke to the irver side he went. 
 
 And there his own sword in threw he ; 
 
 But he kept back Excalibar, 
 
 He kept it back in privitie. 
 
KING Arthur's death. 115 
 
 For all of Cologne was the blade ; 
 
 And all the hilt of precious stone ; 
 ' And ever alack 1' then said the knight, 
 
 ^Must such a sword away be thrown?' 
 
 Then back he came unto the king, 
 
 Who said, ^Sir Lukyn, what did you see?' 
 ' Nothing, my liege, save that the wind 
 
 Blew o'er the waters fair and free.' 
 
 ^ go again,' then said the king, 
 
 ^ O good Sir Lukyn go again ; 
 Into the river throw my sword, 
 
 Nor keep me lingering here in pain.' 
 
 The duke then to the river went, 
 
 And the king's scabbard in threw he ; 
 
 But he kept back Excalibar, 
 
 And hid it underneath a tree. 
 
 Then back he came to tell the king. 
 
 Who said, ^ Sir Lukyn, saw ye aught?' 
 
 ' Nothing, my liege, save that the wind 
 Now with the angry waters fought.' 
 
 ' Lukyn, Lukyn,' said the king, 
 
 * Twice hast thou dealt deceitfully ; 
 
 Alack, whom may we ever trust, 
 
 When such a knight so false can be ? 
 
 ' Say, wouldst thou have thy master dead. 
 All for a sword that wins thine eye? 
 
 Now go again, and throw it in. 
 
 Or here the one of us shall die.' 
 
 The duke, all shent with this rebuke. 
 No answer made unto the king ; 
 
 But to the river took the sword, 
 
 And threw it far as he could fling. 
 
 8— :» 
 
116 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 A hand and an arm did meet the sword, 
 And flourished three times in the air; 
 
 Then sunk beneath the running stream, 
 And of the duke was seen nae mair. 
 
 All sore astonied stood the duke; 
 
 He stood as still, as still mote be ; 
 Then hastened back to tell the king ; 
 
 But he was gone from under the tree 
 
 But to what place he could not tell, 
 For never after he did him spye ; 
 
 But he saw a barge go from the land, 
 And he heard ladies howl and cry. 
 
 And whether the king was there, or not. 
 He never knew, nor ever colde ; 
 
 For from that sad and direful day, 
 
 He never more was seen on mould. 
 
 THOMAS THE RHYMER. 
 
 [Thomas or Eecildoune, or, as he is indiiferently called, 
 Thomas the Rhymer, the reputed author of the romance of 
 Sir Tristram, is supposed to have flourished in the thirteenth 
 century. All that can be conjectured about him has been 
 collected by Sir Walter Scott ; but it amounts to little, and 
 that little is apocryphal. Price, in his introduction to 
 Warton's Sistory of English Poetry, throws considerable 
 doubt upon the identity of the bard, who, in many striking 
 particulars, bears a close resemblance to Merlin. It appears, 
 from the following ancient rhyme, that he had personal inter- 
 course with the fairies ; and we learn further that he lived in 
 a tower surrounded by a forest, and that once following a 
 hind and hart (fairies, probably, that had taken those shapes 
 to delude him) into the recesses of the neighbouring wood. 
 
THOMAS THE RHYMER. 117 
 
 he was never heard of afterwards. There is a tradition, 
 nevertheless, that he was buried near Inverness; but no 
 traces remain of the haunts assigned to him in his life-time. 
 He seems to have vanished much in the same way as King 
 Arthur, and to have left no memorial behind him. In the 
 Eildon hills his name still lingers, but it is only the echo of 
 the old lore.] 
 
 n^RXJE Thomas lay on Huntly bank, 
 -■- A ferlie* he spied wi' his ee, 
 And there he saw a lady bright, 
 
 Come riding down by the Eildon tree. 
 
 Her shirt was o' the grass-green silk, 
 
 Her mantle o' the velvet fine; 
 At ilka tettt of her horse's mane 
 
 Hung fifty siller bells and nine. 
 
 True Thomas he pulled ofi" his cap, 
 
 And louted low down to his knee : 
 
 * All hail, thou mighty Queen of Heaven, 
 
 For thy peer on earth I never did see.' 
 
 * no, O no, Thomas,' she said, 
 
 ' That name does not belong to me ; 
 I am but the Queen of fair Elfland, 
 That am hither come to visit thee. 
 
 * Harp and carp, J Thomas,' she said, 
 
 ^ Harp and carp along wi' me ; 
 And if ye dare to kiss my lips. 
 Sure of your body I will be.' 
 
 * Betide me weal, betide me woe. 
 
 That weird shall never daunton me !' 
 Sine he has kissed her rosy lips. 
 
 All imderneath the Eildon tree. 
 
 * Something wonderful, or marvellous. 
 Lock. t Talk, noise. 
 
118 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 ^ Now, ye maun go wi' me/ she said, 
 
 * True Thomas, ye maun go wi' me ; 
 
 And ye maun serve me seven years. 
 
 Through weal or woe, as may chance to be.' 
 
 She mounted on her milk-white steed. 
 She's ta'en true Thomas up behind; 
 
 And aye, whene'er her bridle rung, 
 
 The steed flew swifter than the wind. 
 
 they rode on, and farther on, 
 
 The steed gaed swifter than the wind. 
 
 Until they reached a desert wide. 
 And living land was lefb behind. 
 
 * Light down, light down, now, true Thomas, 
 
 And lean your head upon my knee ; 
 ■ Abide and rest a little space. 
 
 And I will show you ferlies three. 
 
 * O see ye not yon narrow road. 
 
 So thick beset with thorns and briers 
 That is the path of righteousness, 
 
 Though after it but few enquires. 
 
 ' And see ye not that braid, braid road, 
 That lies across that lily leven? 
 
 That is the path of wickedness. 
 
 Though some call it the road to heaven. 
 
 * And see ye not that bonny road. 
 
 That winds about the fernie brae? 
 That is the road to fair Elfland, 
 
 Where thou and I this night maun gae. 
 
 * But, Thomas, ye maun hold your tongue, 
 
 Whatever ye may hear or see ; 
 For if ye speak word in Elflyn land, 
 
 Ye'll ne'er get back to your ain countrie. 
 
THE DOUGLAS TRAGEDY. 119 
 
 they rode on, and farther on, 
 
 And they waded through rivers aboon the knee, 
 And they saw neither sun nor moon, 
 
 But they heard the roaring of the sea. 
 
 It was mirk, mirk night, and there was nae stern 
 
 light, 
 
 And they waded through red blude to the knee; 
 For a' the blude that's shed on earth 
 
 Rins through the springs o' that countrie. 
 
 Sine they came on to a garden green. 
 And she pu'd an apple frae a tree : 
 
 * Take this for thy wages, true Thomas, 
 
 It will give thee the tongue that can never lie.' 
 
 ' My tongue is mine ain,' true Thomas said, 
 
 * A gudely gift ye wast gie to me ; 
 
 1 neither dought to buy nor sell. 
 
 At fair or tryst where I may be. 
 
 * I dought neither speak to prince or peer, 
 
 Nor ask of grace from fair ladye.' 
 ' Now hold thy peace!' the lady said, 
 
 * For as I say, so it must be.' 
 
 He has gotten a coat of the even cloth. 
 And a pair of shoes of velvet green ; 
 
 And till seven years were gone and past, 
 True Thomas on earth was never seen. 
 
 THE DOUGLAS TRAGEDY. 
 
 [The scene of the tragedy recorded in this ballad is the farm 
 of Blackhouse, said to be so designated from the complexion 
 of the Lords of Douglas, in Selkirkshire. Close to the farm- 
 house are yet to be seen, standing upon the ledge of a torrent 
 called the Douglas burn, in a wild glen, the ruins of the 
 
120 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 tower from whence the Lady Margaret was carried by her 
 lover. Sir Walter describes the tower as appearing to have 
 been originally square, with a circular turret at one angle, 
 enclosing the staircase. Surrounded by dark mountains 
 covered with heather, the solitary farm might seem to have 
 acquired its ominous name from its isolated and desolate situa- 
 tion. * Seven large stones,' says Sir Walter, * erected upon 
 the neighbouring heights, are shown as marking the spot 
 where the seven brethren were slain ; and the Douglas burn 
 is averred to have been the stream at which the lovers stopped 
 to drink.' — Sorder Minatrelsy. 
 
 Besides different corrupt versions of this piece, there are 
 other ballads on the same subject, the most popular of which 
 is that printed by Percy under the title of Fair Margaret 
 and Sweet William. Its authenticity, however, in the form 
 in which it is given by Percy, may be doubted. Some frag- 
 ments of the verse have the colour of antiquity in them, and 
 probably formed part of the old song quoted by Fletcher in 
 the Knight of the Burning Pestle; but in other parts the 
 original appears to have been patched and expanded. It was 
 upon this ballad Mallet founded his first production, William 
 and Margaret, the excellence of which he never afterwards 
 reached.] 
 
 ' T? ^^^ ^P> ^^^^ ^Pj 'low, 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 grey, 
 With a buglet horn hung down by his side, 
 
 And lightly they rode away. 
 
THE DOUGLAS TRAGEDY. 121 
 
 Lord William lookit o'er his left shoulder, 
 
 To see what he could see, 
 And there he spied her seven brethren bold 
 
 Come riding o'er the lea. 
 
 * Light down, light down. Lady Margaret,' he said, 
 * And hold my steed in your hand,* 
 
 Until that against your seven brethren bold, 
 And your father I make a stand.' 
 
 She held his steed in her milk-white hand, 
 
 And never shed one tear. 
 Until that she saw her seven brethren fa' [dear. 
 
 And her father hard fighting, who loved her so 
 
 ' O hold your hand. Lord William !' she said, 
 Tor your strokes they are wondrous sair; 
 
 True lovers I can get many a ane. 
 
 But a father I can never get mair.' 
 
 0, she's ta'en out her handkerchief, 
 
 It was o' the holland so fine. 
 And aye she dightedt her father's bloody wounds, 
 
 That were redder than the wine. 
 
 * Mr. King, in his Selections from Early Ballad Poetry, points out 
 some remarkable coincidences between The Douglas Tragedy and the 
 Danish ballad of Ribolt and Giddhorg. In both the story is similar, 
 and some of the passages are almost identical, such, for example, as 
 the above, which thus appears, nearly word for word, in the English 
 version of Ribolt and Guldborg : — 
 
 * Light down, Guldborg, my lady dear, 
 And hold our steeds by the renyies here.' 
 
 ' The Wilkina Saga, moreover,' adds Mr. King, ' contains another 
 version of the same legend ; and the Swedish ballad of Fair Alidel is 
 clearly from the same source.' The obvious inference is that the 
 story belongs to a very early period; perhaps, as supposed by 
 Jamieson, in whose collection of Popular Ballade these legends are 
 published, ' to the first arrival of the Cimbri in Britain.' 
 
 t Dressed. 
 
122 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 ' O chuse, chuse, Lady Margaret,' he said, 
 ' O whether will ye gang or bidef 
 
 ' I'll gang, I'll gang, Lord William,' she said, 
 ^ Eor you have left me no other guide.' 
 
 He's lifted her on a milk-white steed, 
 
 And himself on a dapple grey. 
 With a buglet horn hung down by his side, 
 
 And slowly they baith rade away. 
 
 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 sae 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, 
 That 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. 
 
 * mak my bed, lady mother,' he says, 
 
 ' O mak it braid and deep ! 
 And lay Lady Margaret close at my back, 
 And the sounder I will sleep.' 
 
THE DOUGLAS TRAGEDY. 123 
 
 Lord William was dead lang ere midniglit, 
 
 Lady Margaret 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 Margaret in Marie's quire ;t 
 
 Out o' the lady's grave grew a bonny red rose, 
 And out o' the knight's a brier. 
 
 And they twa met, and they twa plat, 
 
 And fain they wad be near ; 
 And a' the world might ken right weel, 
 
 They were twa lovers dear. 
 
 But bye and rade the black Douglas, 
 
 And wow but he was rough ! 
 For he pulled up the bonny brier, 
 
 And flanged in St. Marie's Loch. J 
 
 * Ribolt was dead ere the cock did craw ; 
 Guldborg she died ere the day did daw. 
 
 EiboU and Guldborg. 
 This was a favourite mode of disposing of unfortunate lovers, and 
 occurs in many ballads. The most curious example is the following, 
 in which the poet falls into a ludicrous confusion of time and tense : — 
 ' Fair Margaret died to-day, to-day ; 
 Sweet William died the morrow.' 
 
 Fair Margaret and Sweet William. 
 See also the ballad of Lord Lovel,post, p. i3(5. 
 
 t Some vestiges of the Chapel of St. Mary may still be traced upon 
 the lake to which it has given name. — Scott. 
 
 X The poetical fancy of the rose and the brier is common to many 
 of the old ballads. See, for example, the ballad of Lord Lovel. 
 The closest to the above is in Lord Thomas and Fair Annet, where 
 nearly the same words are employed : — 
 
 ' Lord Thomas was buried without the Kirk wa', 
 Fair Annet within the quire ; 
 And o' the one there grew a birk, 
 The other a bonny brier. 
 
 And ay they grew, and ay they threw, 
 
 As they wad fain be near ; 
 And by this ye may ken right weel, 
 
 They were twa lovers dear. ' 
 
 In Fair Margaret and Sweet William we have the same incident, but 
 
124 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 JOHNNIE 0' COCKLESMUIR. 
 
 [The following text is taken from the volume of Scottish 
 Traditional A7icient Ballads issued by the Percy Society. 
 It differs, especially in the conclusion, from other versions 
 which have been published under different names, such as 
 Jolinie of Breadislee, Jolmie of BradishanTc. This is the 
 only version in which the outlaw obtains the royal pardon and 
 the licence to hunt. The hero is supposed to have been a 
 notorious marauder, who held the old castle of Morton, near 
 Durisdeer, in Dumfriesshire.] 
 
 TOHNNIE raise up in a May mornin', 
 '-^ Ca'd for water to wash his hands, 
 An' he's comraant his bluidie dogs, 
 
 To be loosed frae their iron bands, bands, 
 To be loosed frae their iron bands. 
 
 "Win up, win up, my bluidie dogs. 
 
 Win up, and be unboun', 
 An' we'll awa' to Bride's Braidmuir, 
 
 An' ding the dun deer doun, doun, 
 An' ding the dun deer doun.' 
 
 here the poetical interest is destroyed by the introduction of the clerk 
 of the parish, who is made to execute by accident the destruction 
 which in the original is assigned to the rage of the Black Douglas : — 
 
 'Margaret was buried in the lower chancel, 
 
 And William in the higher ; 
 Out of her breast there sprang a rose, 
 And out of his a brier. 
 
 They grew till they grew unto the church-top. 
 And then they could grow no higher ; 
 
 And there they tied in a true lover's knot. 
 What made all people admire. 
 
 Then came the clerk of the parish. 
 
 As you the truth shall hear. 
 And by misfortune cut them down. 
 
 Or they had now been here.' 
 
 This last verse is, probably, spurious. It looks as if it had been added 
 to the ballad in a spirit of vulgar banter. 
 
JOHNNIE O' COCKLESMUIE. 125 
 
 When his mither got word o' that, 
 
 Then she took bed and lay ; 
 Says, * Johnnie, my son, for my blessin', 
 
 Ye'll stay at hame this day, day, 
 
 Ye'l] stay at hame this day. 
 
 ' There's baken bread, and brown ale, 
 Shall be at your comman'j 
 
 Ye'll win your mither's blythe blessin', 
 
 To the Bride's Braidmuir nae gang, gang. 
 To the Bride's Braidmuir nae gang.' 
 
 ' Mony are my Mens, mither, 
 
 Though thousans were my foe ; * 
 
 Betide me life, betide me death, 
 
 To the Bride's Braidmuir I'll go, go. 
 To the Bride's Braidmuir I'll go.' 
 
 The sark that was o' Johnnie's back, 
 
 Was o' the cambric fine; 
 The belt that was aroun' his middle, 
 
 Wi' pearlins it did shine, shine, 
 
 Wi' pearlins it did shine. 
 
 The coat that was upon his back, 
 
 Was o' the linsey broun, 
 An' he's awa' to the Bride's Braidmuir, 
 
 To ding the dun deer doun, doun. 
 
 To ding the dun deer doun. 
 
 Johnnie lookit east, Johnnie lookit west. 
 
 An' turnit him roun' and roun'. 
 An' there he saw the king's dun deer. 
 
 Was cowin'* the bush o' brume, brume. 
 
 Was cowin' the bush o' brume. 
 
 Cropping. 
 
126 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 Johnnie shot, and the dun deer lap, 
 He woundit her i' the side; 
 
 Between him an' yon burnie bank, 
 Johnnie he laid her pride, pride, 
 Johnnie he laid her pride. 
 
 He ate sae muckle o' the venison, 
 He drank sae muckle blude. 
 
 Till he lay doun atween his houns, 
 
 An' slept as he'd been dead, dead. 
 An' slept as he'd been dead. 
 
 But by there cam' a silly auld man. 
 
 An ill death may he dee, 
 For he is on to the seven foresters. 
 
 As fast as gang could he, he. 
 
 As fast as gang could he. 
 
 ' What news, what news, ye silly auld man, 
 What news hae ye brought you wi V 
 
 ' Nae news, nae news, ye seven foresters. 
 But what your eyne will see, see, 
 But what your eyne will see. 
 
 * As I gaed i' yon rough thick hedge 
 
 Amang yon bramly scrogs,* 
 The fairest youth that e'er I saw 
 
 Lay sleeping atween his dogs, dogs. 
 Lay sleeping atween his dogs. 
 
 * The sark that was upon his back. 
 
 Was o' the cambric fine. 
 The belt that was aroun' his middle, 
 Wi' pearlins it did shine, shine, 
 Wi' pearlins it did shine.' 
 
 * Stunted bushes. 
 
JOHNNIE O' COCKLESMUIR. 127 
 
 Then out it speaks the first forester, 
 
 * Whether this be true or no, 
 ! if its Johnnie of Cocklesmuir, 
 
 Nae forder need we go, go, 
 Nae forder need we go.' 
 
 Out it spak' the second forester, 
 A fierce fellow was he; 
 
 * Betide roe life, betide me death. 
 
 This youth we'll go and see, see. 
 This youth we'll go and see.' 
 
 As they gaed in yon rough thick hedge. 
 
 An' doun yon forest gay, 
 They cam' on to that very same place, 
 
 Where John o' Cockl's he lay, lay, 
 
 Where John o' Cockl's he lay. 
 
 The first ane shot they shot at him, 
 They woundit him i' the thigh; 
 Out spak' the first forester's son, 
 
 * By the next shot he maun dee, dee. 
 By the next shot he maun dee.' 
 
 * stand ye true my trusty bow, 
 
 An' stout steel never fail; 
 Avenge me noo on a' my foe, 
 
 Wha have my life i' bale, bale, 
 Wha have my life i' bale.' 
 
 Then Johnnie killed six foresters. 
 An' woundit the seventh sair; 
 
 Then drew a stroke at the silly auld man, 
 That word he ne'er spak' mair, mair. 
 That word he ne'er spak' mair. 
 
 His mother's parrot i' the window sat. 
 
 She whistled an' she sang, 
 An' aye the owerturn o' the note, 
 
 * Young Johnnie's biding lang, lang. 
 Young Johnnie's biding lang 1' 
 
128 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 When this reachit the king's ain ears, 
 It grieved him wondrous sair; 
 
 Says, ^ I'd rather they'd hurt my subjects a' 
 Than Johnnie o' Cocklesmuir, muir, 
 Than Johnnie o' Cocklesmuir, 
 
 ' But where are a' my wa'-wight men, 
 That I pay meat an' fee? 
 
 We'll gang the morn to Johnnie's castle, 
 See how the caiise may be, be, 
 See how the cause may be.' 
 
 Then he's cia'd Johnnie up to court, 
 
 Treated him handsomlie; 
 An' noo to hunt i' the Bride's Braidmuir 
 
 For life he's licence free, free. 
 
 For life he's licence free. 
 
 SIR PATRICK SPENS. 
 
 [SiE Waltee Scott supposes that this ballad refers to events 
 which took place in Scotland towards the close of the thir- 
 teenth century ; and, under that impression, concludes that it 
 is of high antiquity. The crown of Scotland, at the demise 
 of Alexander III. in 1285, devolved upon his grand- daughter, 
 Margaret, called the Maid of Norway, she being the onl}- 
 offspring of a marriage between a daughter of Alexander III. 
 and Eric, king of Norway. The infant princess was brought 
 over from Norway, a regency was appointed to govern 
 Scotland during her minority, and a plan was projected by 
 the king of England for uniting the two kingdoms by a mar- 
 riage between the youthful queen and the Prince of Wales. 
 This project, to which Eric is said to have been averse, was 
 frustrated by the death of the Maid of Norway. Sir Walter 
 Scott conjectures that the unfortunate voyage of Sir Patrick 
 Spens may have taken place for the purpose of bringing home 
 
SIR PATRICK SPENS. 129 
 
 the Princess from Norway to assume her sovereignty. But 
 this conjecture is open to considerable doubt from certain facts 
 stated by Sir Walter himself: that no such shipwreck is re- 
 corded in Scottish history, and that the commissioners ap- 
 pointed to escort the Princess were Sir David Wemyss 
 and Michael Scott, popularly known as the Wizard. Mr. 
 Motherwell, Minstrelsy, Ancient and Modern, thinks that 
 the ballad refers to the marriage of Alexander's daughter 
 with Eric ; but this is irreconcileable with the designation of 
 the lady as the daughter of the King of Norway. Mr. 
 Finlay, Scottish Historical and Romantic Ballads, 
 suggests, with greater probability, that it refers to the 
 marriage of James III. with a Norwegian Princess. In 
 another place, however, he quotes a passage from the Scala 
 Chronica, translated by Leland, which, if it possess any 
 historical authority, would seem to be decisive of the 
 object of the voyage: *One Master Weland, a Clerk of 
 Scotland, sent into Norway for Margaret, died with her by 
 tempest on the sea, coming out of Norway to Scotland in 
 coasts of Boghan.' 
 
 Dr. Percy printed a copy of the ballad in his Meliques ; 
 but it was evidently imperfect. Scott published a much 
 fuller version in the Border Minstrelsy, from which the 
 following text is adopted. Yet even with these augmenta- 
 tions the piece must still be considered as a fragment. 
 
 The author and the date of the authorship are unknown. 
 Mr. Finlay is inclined to think it is * the most ancient ballad 
 of which we are in possession;' but observes, that *'the 
 mention of hats and corJc-heeled shoon, would lead us to 
 infer that some stanzas are interpolated, or that its composi- 
 tion is of a comparatively modern date.' Interpolations, how- 
 ever, and the introduction of contemporary costume, must be 
 expected in a song transmitted by recitation, and are not, 
 therefore, in themselves conclusive of its age. A version 
 published by Buchan, in his Ancient Ballads, contains three 
 additional stanzas preserved by oral tradition, and other 
 verses from a similar source are given by Finlay. These are 
 
 EAKLY BALLADS. 9 
 
130 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 here incorporated in the notes. It may be proper to add, 
 that Mr. James Henry Dixon, in his volume of Scotch 
 Ballads, published for the Percy Society, says that Lady 
 Wardlaw * is now known to be the author of Sir Patrick 
 Spens, in addition to Sardyhnute ;' but he supplies no 
 evidence in support of the assertion.] 
 
 THE king sits in Dunfermline town, 
 Drinking the blude-red wine ; 
 ^ whare will I get a skeely skipper,* 
 To sail this new ship of mine?' 
 
 O up and spak' 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 blinded his ee. 
 
 * 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 seaH 
 
 * Skilful mariner, 
 t * So great was the terror entertained of navigating the North Seas 
 in winter, that ships were prohibited, by a Scottish Act of Parliameut, 
 from being freighted out of the kingdom with staple goods between 
 St. Simon and Candlemas.' — Scott. 
 
SIR PATRICK SPENS. 131 
 
 * 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 Moneday morn, 
 
 Wr a' the speed they may ; 
 They hae landed in Noroway, 
 
 Upon a Wednesday. 
 
 They hadna been a week, a week, 
 
 In Noroway, but twae. 
 When that the lords o' Noroway 
 
 Began aloud to say : t 
 
 * Ye Scottishmen spend a our king's goud, 
 
 And a' our queen's fee.' 
 ' Ye lie, ye lie, ye liars loud ! 
 Fu' loud I hear ye lie ; 
 
 ' For I brought as much white monie, 
 
 As gane J my men and me. 
 And I brought a half-fou § of gude red goud, 
 
 Out o'er the sea wi' me. 
 
 * The ballad publish6d by Mr. Buchan reads : — 
 
 • But I maun sail the seas the morn, ' 
 And likewise sae maun you, 
 To Noroway wi' our King's daughter, 
 A chosen Queen she's now.' 
 
 According to this version, observes the last editor of the Border 
 Minstrelsy, Sir Patrick's errand was, not to bring the Maiden of 
 Norway to Scotland, but to convey her mother, the daughter of 
 Alexander III., to Norway. 
 
 t * They hadna stayed into that place 
 A month but and a day. 
 Till he caused the flip in mugs gae roun'. 
 And wine in cans sae gay.' 
 
 Buchan. 
 
 X As will avail, or suffice. 
 § The eighth part of a peck. 
 
 I) — 
 
132 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 ' Make ready, make ready, my merry men 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 old 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 cam o'er the broken ship, 
 
 Till a' her sides were torn. 
 
 * where will I get a gude sailor, 
 
 To take my helm in hand, 
 Till I get up to the tall top-mast, 
 To see if I can spy land?' 
 
 ' here am I, a sailor gude, 
 
 To take the helm in hand. 
 Till you go up to the tall top-mast; 
 
 But T fear you'll ne'er spy land.' 
 
 He hadna gane a step, a step, 
 
 A step but barely ane, 
 When a bout flew out of our goodly ship,* 
 
 And the salt sea it cam in.t 
 
 * * Sir "Walter Scott supposes that a plank had started ; but the 
 more particular meaning seems to be that a bar, or bolt (Scotice, boitt) 
 had loosened.' — Finlay. 
 
 t ' He hadna gane to his topmast, 
 A step but barely three, 
 Ere through and through the bonny ship's side, 
 He saw the green haw-sea.' 
 
 BUCHAN. 
 
SIR PATRICK SPENS. 133 
 
 * Gae, fetch a web of the silken claith, 
 
 Another o' the twine, 
 And wap them into our ship's side, 
 
 And let nae the sea come in.' 
 
 They fetched a web o' the silken claith,^* 
 
 Another o' the twine, 
 And they wapped them round that gude ship's side. 
 
 But still the sea cam in. 
 
 O laith, laith, were our gude 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 flattered on the faem ; 
 And mony was the gude lord's son. 
 
 That never mair cam hame. 
 
 The ladies wrang their fingers white, 
 
 The maidens tore their hair, 
 A' for the sake of their true loves ; 
 
 For them they'll see nae mair. 
 
 * • There are five-and-fifty feather beds 
 
 Well packed in ae room. 
 And ye'U get as muckle gude canvass 
 As wrap the ship a' roun'.' 
 
 BUCHAN. 
 
 One of the versions communicated to Mr. Finlay contained the 
 following stanzas : — 
 
 * Then up an' cam' a mermaid, 
 
 Wi' a siller cup in her han' : 
 
 * Sail on, sail on, my gude Scotch lords, 
 
 For ye sune will see dry Ian'.' 
 
 • Awa', awa', ye wild woman, 
 
 An* let your fleechin be; 
 For, sen your face we've seen the day. 
 Dry Ian' we'll never see.' ' 
 
134 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 O lang, lang, may the ladies 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, 
 
 With their goud kaims in their hair, 
 
 A' waiting for their ain dear loves. 
 For them they'll see nae mair ! 
 
 O forty miles off Aberdeen,* 
 
 'Tis fifty fathoms deep. 
 And there lies gude Sir Patrick Spens 
 
 Wi' the Scots lords at his feet. 
 
 LOKD LOVEL. 
 
 [This popular ballad is believed to be ancient. Mr. J. H. 
 Dixon informs me that he has seen a black-letter copy of 
 it, of about the date of Charles II. Another version, 
 taken down from recitation, is published in Kinloch's 
 Ancient Scottish Ballads , It was reprinted in London, in 
 1846, from an old broadside; and included in a collection of 
 Ancient Poems published by the Percy Society in the same 
 year. The hero was, in all probability, one of the Loveles 
 or DelavaUes of Northumberland, celebrated in Chevy 
 Chase ; and the ballad may be presumed to be of Border 
 origin. This conjecture is strengthened by the fact that it 
 was written to the tune of Johnnie 0' Cochlesmuir.l 
 
 * There are different versions of this line. One reads : — 
 
 • At the back of auld St. Johnstonne Dyke ;' 
 Buchan : — 
 
 ' It's even ower frae Aberdour.' 
 Dr. Percy : — 
 
 ' Have owre, half owre, to Aberdour.' 
 
 Mr. Finlay adopts this last reading, which he considers justified 
 by the rhyme. Aberdour is a small seaport, about six miles from 
 Dunfermline. 
 
LORD LOVEL. 135 
 
 LOUD Lovel he stood at his castle gate, 
 Combing his milk-white steed; 
 When up came Lady Nancy Belle, 
 
 To wish her lover good speed, speed, 
 To wish her lover good speed. 
 
 'Where are you going, Lord Lovel f she said, 
 * Oh! where are you going?' said she; 
 
 * I'm going, ray Lady Nancy Belle, 
 
 Strange countries for to see, to see. 
 Strange countries for to see.' 
 
 ^ When will you be back, Lord Lovel 1 ' said she ; 
 
 ' Oh ! when will you come back ? ' said she ; 
 ' In a year or two — or three, at the most, 
 
 I'll return to my fair Nancy-cy, 
 
 I'll return to my fair Nancy.' 
 
 But he had not been gone a year and a day, 
 Strange countries for to see, 
 
 When languishing thoughts came into his head, 
 Lady Nancy Belle he would go see, see, 
 Lady Nancy Belle he would go see. 
 
 So he rode, and he rode on his milk-white steed. 
 Till he came to London-town ; 
 
 And there he heard St. Pancras' bells, 
 
 And the people all mourning round, round, 
 And the people all mourning round. 
 
 ' Oh ! what is the matter]*' Lord Lovel he said, 
 ' Oh ! what is the matter?' said he ; 
 
 ' A lord's lady is dead,' a woman replied, 
 ' And some call her Lady Nancy-cy, 
 And some call her Lady Nancy.' 
 
 So he ordered the grave to be opened wide. 
 And the shroud he turned down. 
 
 And there he kissed her clay-cold lips, 
 
 Till the tears came trickling down, down, 
 Till the tears came trickling down. 
 
136 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 Lady Nancy she died as it might be to-day, 
 Lord Lovel he died as to-morrow; 
 
 Lady Nancy she died out of pure, pure grief, 
 Lord Lovel he died out of sorrow, sorrow, 
 Lord Lovel he died out of sorrow.* 
 
 Lady Nancy was laid in St. Pan eras' church, 
 Lord Lovel was laid in the choir; 
 
 And out of her bosom there grew a red rose. 
 And out of her lover's a brier, brier. 
 And out of her lover's a brier. 
 
 They grew, and they grew, to the church steeple. 
 And then they could grow no higher; [too. 
 
 So there they entwined in a true lover's knot. 
 For all lovers true to admire-mire, 
 For all lovers true to admire. 
 
 JAMIE DOUGLAS. 
 
 [Me. Finlay supposes that the Jamie Douglas of this old 
 ballad was Morton, the Regent of Scotland, who was noto- 
 rious for his incontinence. His wife, who utters the lament, 
 bore him many children, who all died young, and towards the 
 close of her life she became insane.] 
 
 TIT HEN I fell sick, an' very sick, 
 '^ ' An' very sick, just like to die, 
 A gentleman of good account. 
 
 He came on purpose to visit me ; 
 But his blackie whispered in my lord's ear, 
 
 He was owre lang in the room wi' me. 
 
 * 
 
 Thus in Fair Margaret and Sweet William -. — 
 
 * Fair Margaret died for pure true love, 
 Sweet William died for sorrow.* 
 
JAMIE DOUGLAS. 137 
 
 * Gae, little page, an' tell your lord, 
 
 Gin he will come and dine wi' me, 
 I'll set him on a chair of gold, 
 
 And serve him on my bended knee.' 
 
 The little page gaed up the stair, — 
 
 ^ Lord Douglas dine wi' your ladie ; 
 
 She'll set ye on a chair of gold, 
 
 And serve you on her bended knee.' 
 
 * When cockle shells turn silver bells, 
 
 When wine drieps red frae ilka tree, 
 When frost and snaw will warm us a'. 
 
 Then I'll cum down an' dine wi' thee.' 
 
 But whan my father gat word o' this, 
 
 what an angry man was he ! 
 He sent fourscore o' his archers bauld 
 
 To bring me safe to his countrie. 
 
 When I rose up then in the morn, 
 
 My goodly palace for to lea', 
 I knocked at my lord's chamber door, 
 
 But ne'er a word wad he speak to me. 
 
 But slowly, slowly, rose he up. 
 
 And slowly, slowly, cam he down. 
 
 And when he saw me set on my horse. 
 
 He caused his drums and trumpets soun'. 
 
 * Now fare ye weel, my goodly palace. 
 
 And fare ye weel, my children three ; 
 God grant your father grace to love you, 
 Far more than ever he loved me.' 
 
 He thocht that I was like himsel. 
 
 That had a woman in every hall ; 
 But I would swear by the heavens clear, 
 
 1 never loved man but himsel. 
 
138 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 As on to Embro' town we cam, 
 
 My guid father he welcomed me; 
 
 He caused his minstrels meet to sound, — 
 It was no music at a' to me. 
 
 ^ Now haud your tongue, my daughter dear, 
 Leave off your weeping, let it be. 
 
 For Jamie's divorcement I'll send owre; 
 Far better lord I'll provide for thee.' 
 
 ' haud your tongue, my father dear, 
 And of such talking let me be ; 
 
 For never a man shall come to my arms. 
 Since my lord has sae slighted me.' 
 
 an I had ne'er crossed the Tweed, 
 
 Nor yet been owre the river Dee, 
 
 1 might hae staid at Lord Orgul's gate. 
 
 Where I wad hae been a gay ladie. 
 
 The ladies they will cum to town, 
 And they will cum and visit me, 
 
 But I'll set me down now in the dark. 
 For ochanrie ! who'll comfort m.e1 
 
 An' wae betide ye, black Fastness ! 
 
 Ay, and an ill deid may ye die; 
 Ye was the first and foremost man 
 
 Wha parted my true lord and mf^. 
 
 THE SPANISH LADY'S LOVE. 
 
 [* This beautiful old ballad/ says Percy, * most probably 
 took its rise from one of those descents made on the Spanish 
 coasts in the time of Elizabeth.' In the west of England 
 there was a tradition that the gentleman was a member of 
 the Popham family, by whom the lady's picture, and the chain 
 and bracelets, mentioned in the ballad, were said to have been 
 
THE SPANISH LADY's LOVE. 139 
 
 preserved. Another tradition identifies the hero in Sir Richard 
 Levison, of Trentham, in Staffordshire, who distinguished 
 himself in the Spanish expeditions towards the close of Eliza- 
 beth's reign. The story, modified by different circumstances, 
 but agreeing in the main incident, is common to many ballads 
 of which this (originally published by Thomas Deloney, in 
 the Garland of Good-will^ 1631) is, probably, the earliest, 
 and certainly best worthy of preservation. It is pervaded by 
 a sweetness and gentleness of spirit that greatly heighten the 
 pathos of the narrative. The subject was dramatised by 
 Thomas Hull, in a musical entertainment produced at Coveut 
 Garden in 1765.] 
 
 TT7ILL you hear a Spanish lady, 
 
 ' ^ How she wooed an English man 1 
 Garments gay and rich as may be, 
 
 Decked with jewels she had on. 
 Of a comely countenance and grace was she, 
 And by birth and parentage of high degree. 
 
 As his prisoner there he kept her. 
 
 In his hands her life did lie; 
 Cupid's bands did tie them faster 
 
 By the liking of an eye. 
 In his courteous company was all her joy, 
 To favour him in anything she was not coy. 
 
 But at last there came commandment 
 
 For to set the ladies free, 
 With their jewels still adorned, 
 
 None to do them injury. 
 Then said this lady mild, * Full woe is me ; 
 O, let me still sustain this kind captivity 1 
 
 ' Gallant captain show some pity 
 
 To a lady in distress ; 
 Leave me not within this city, 
 
 For to die in heaviness. 
 Thou hast set this present day my body free, 
 But my heart in prison still remains with thee.' 
 
140 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 '■ How shouldst thou, fair lady, love me, 
 
 Whom thou know'st thy country's foe? 
 Thy fair words make me suspect thee : 
 Serpents lie where flowers grow.' 
 ^ All the harm I wish to thee, most courteous knight, 
 God grant the same upon my head may fully light! 
 
 ' Blessed be the time and season. 
 
 That you came on Spanish ground; 
 If our foes you may be termed, 
 
 Gentle foes we have you found : 
 With our city, you have won our hearts each one, 
 Then to your country bear away, that is your own.' 
 
 ' Rest you still, most gallant lady; 
 
 Rest you still, and weep no more; 
 Of fair lovers there is plenty, 
 
 Spain doth yield a wondrous store.' 
 ' Spaniards fraught with jealousy we often find. 
 But Englishmen through all the world are counted kind. 
 
 ' Leave me not unto a Spaniard, 
 
 You alone enjoy my heart; 
 T am lovely, young, and tender, 
 
 Love is likewise my desert : 
 Still to serve thee day and night my mind is pressed, 
 The wife of every Englishman is counted blessed.' 
 
 * It would be a shame, fair lady. 
 
 For to bear a woman hence ; 
 English soldiers never carry 
 
 Any such without offence.' 
 
 * I'll quickly change myself, if it be so. 
 
 And like a page I'll follow thee, where'er thou go.' 
 
 ' I have neither gold nor silver 
 
 To maintain thee in this case, 
 And to travel is great charges. 
 
 As you know in every place.' 
 
THE SPANISH LADY's LOVE. HI 
 
 ' My chains and jewels every one shall be thine own, 
 And eke five hundred pounds in gold that lies un- 
 known.' 
 
 ^ On the sea are many dangers, 
 
 Many storms do there arise, 
 Which will be to ladies dreadful, 
 
 And force tears from watery eyes.' 
 
 * Well, in troth, I shall endure extremity, 
 
 For I could find in heart to lose my life for thee.' 
 
 ' Courteous lady, leave this fancy. 
 
 Here comes all that breeds this strife; 
 
 T in England have already 
 
 A sweet woman to my wife : 
 
 I will not falsify my vow for gold nor gain, 
 
 Isor yet for all the fairest dames that live in Spain.' 
 
 ' ! how happy is that woman 
 
 That enjoys so true a friend! 
 Many happy days God send her ! 
 
 Of my suit I make an end : 
 On my knees I pardon crave for my offence, 
 Which did from love, and true affection first commence. 
 
 * Commend me to thy lovely lady. 
 
 Bear to her this chain of gold, 
 A nd these bracelets for a token ; 
 
 Grieving that I was so bold : 
 All my jewels in like sort take thou with thee, 
 For they are fitting for thy wife, but not for me. 
 
 ^ I will spend my days in prayer. 
 
 Love and all her laws defy; 
 In a nunnery will I shroud me. 
 
 Far from any company : 
 But ere my prayers have an end, be sure of this, 
 To pray for thee and for thy love I will not miss. 
 
142 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 Thus farewell, most gallant captain! 
 Farewell too my heart's content ! 
 Count not Spanish ladies wanton, 
 
 Though to thee my love was bent : 
 Joy and true prosperity go still with thee !' 
 ' The like fall ever to thy share, most fair lady !' 
 
 THE WATER O' WEARIE's WELL. 
 
 [This is the Scotch version of the tradition preserved in the 
 English ballad of The Outlandish Knight. The story is 
 also common to Denmark and Germany, with variations of 
 the catastrophe. The locality assigned to the tradition by 
 Mr. Chambers is a wild part of the coast of Carrick. Carlton 
 Castle is pointed out as the residence of the false knight, and 
 Gamesloup, a high rock overlooking the sea, as the place 
 where he was in the habit of drowning his wives. The he- 
 roine of the ballad is said to have been a member of the 
 family of Kennedy of Colzean, now represented by the Earl 
 of CassiUs. Mr. Dixon, from whose collection the text is 
 taken, transfers the scene to Balwearie Castle, in Fifeshire.] 
 
 THERE cam' a bird out o' a bush, 
 On water for to dine ; 
 An siching sair, says the king's dochter, 
 ' wae's this heart o' mine.' 
 
 He's ta'en a harp into his hand, 
 
 He's harpit them a' asleip ; 
 Except it was the king's dochter, 
 
 Wha ae wink coudna get. 
 
 He's loupen on his berry-brown steed, 
 
 Ta'en her behin' himsel ; 
 Then baith rade doun to that water 
 
 That they ca' Wearie's Well. 
 
THE WATER O' WEARIE's WELL. 143 
 
 * Wade in, wade in, my ladye fair, 
 
 No harm shall thee befall; 
 Oft times hae I watered my steed 
 Wi* the water o' Wearie's Well/ 
 
 The first step that she steppit in, 
 
 She steppit to the knee; 
 And, sichin' says this ladye fair, 
 
 * This water's nae for me.' 
 
 * Wade in, wade in, my ladye fair, 
 
 No harm shall thee befall; 
 Oft times hae I watered my steed 
 Wi' the water o' Wearie's Well.' 
 
 The next step that she steppit in, 
 
 She steppit to the middle; 
 O, sichin' says this ladye fair, 
 
 * I've wat my gowden girdle.' 
 
 * Wade in, wade in, my ladye fair, 
 
 No harm shall thee befall ; 
 Oft times hae I watered my steed 
 Wi' the water o' Wearie's Well. 
 
 The next step that she steppit in. 
 
 She steppit to the chin; 
 O, sichin says this ladye fair, 
 
 * They sud gar twa luves twin.' 
 
 ^ Seven king's dochters I've drouned there, 
 r the water o' Wearie's Well; 
 
 An' I'll mak' ye the eight o' them, 
 An' ring the common bell.' 
 
 ' Sin' I am standin' here,' she says, 
 
 ' This dowie death to dee ; 
 One kiss o' your comelie mouth, 
 
 I'm sure wad comfort me.* 
 
144 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 He louted him o'er his saddle bow, 
 
 To kiss her cheek an' chin; 
 She's ta'en him in her arms twa, 
 
 An' throun him headlong in. 
 
 * Sin' seven king's daughters ye've drouned there, * 
 
 I' the water o' Wearie's Well, 
 I'll mak' ye the bridegroom to them a', 
 
 An' ring the bell myselL' 
 
 An' aye she warsled, and aye she swam, 
 
 An' she swam to dry Ian' ; 
 An' thankit God most cheerfuliie, 
 
 For the dangers she o'ercam. 
 
 LORD BEICHAN. 
 
 [Tke subject of this ballad is found under different names in 
 nianj'^ Scotch and English versions, of which the best known 
 is that entitled Lord Bateman. Jamieson thinks that 
 Beichan is a corruption of Buchan, a common Border sir- 
 name.] 
 
 T ORD Beichan was a noble lord, 
 -L^ A noble lord of high degree j 
 He shipped himself on board a ship. 
 He longed strange countries for to see. 
 
 He sailed east, and he sailed west. 
 Until he came to proud Turkey; 
 
 Where he was ta'en by a savage Moor, 
 Who handled him right cruellie. 
 
 For he viewed the fashions of that land; 
 
 Their way of worship viewed he ; 
 But to M abound, or Termagant, 
 
 Would Beichan never bend a knee. 
 
LORD BEICHAN. 145 
 
 So on each shoulder they've putten a bore, 
 In each bore they've putten a tye ; 
 
 And they have made him trail the wine 
 And spices on his fair body. 
 
 They've casten him in a donjon deep, 
 Where he could neither hear nor see; 
 
 For seven long year they've kept him there, 
 Till he for hunger's like to dee. 
 
 And in his prison a tree there grew, 
 So stout and strong there grew a tree, 
 
 And unto it was Beichan chained. 
 Until his life was most weary. 
 
 This Turk he had one only daughter — 
 Fairer creature did eyes ne'er see; 
 
 And every day, as she took the air, 
 Near Beichan's prison passed she. 
 
 And bonny, meek, and mild was she, 
 Tho' she was come of an ill kin; 
 
 And oft she sighed, she knew not why. 
 For him that lay the donjon in. 
 
 ! so it fell upon a day, 
 
 She heard young Beichan sadly sing ; 
 And aye and ever in her ears, 
 
 The tones of hapless sorrow ring. 
 
 ' My hounds they all go masterless; 
 
 My hawks they flee from tree to tree; 
 My younger brother will heir my land; 
 
 Fair England again I'll never see.' 
 
 And all night long no rest she got. 
 
 Young Beichan's song for thinking on : 
 
 She's stown the keys from her father's head. 
 And to the prison strong is gone. 
 
 EARLY BALLADS. 10 
 
146 EAHLY BALLADS. 
 
 And she has oped the prison doors, 
 I wot she opened two or three, 
 
 Ere she could come young Beichan at. 
 He was locked up so curiouslie. • 
 
 But when she came young Beichan before. 
 Sore wondered he that maid to see ! 
 
 He took her for some fair captive, — 
 ' Fair Ladye, I pray of what countrie*?' 
 
 ' Have you got houses 1 have you got lands 1 
 Or does Northumberland 'long to thee? 
 
 What would ye give to the fair young ladye 
 That out of prison would set you free?' 
 
 * I have got houses, I have got lands. 
 
 And half Northumberland 'longs to me, — 
 I'll give them all to the ladye fair 
 That out of prison will set me free. 
 
 * Near London town I have a hall, 
 
 With other castles, two or three; 
 I'll give them all to the ladye fair, 
 That out of prison will set me free.' 
 
 ^ Give me the troth of your right hand. 
 The troth of it give unto me ; 
 
 That for seven years ye'll no lady wed, 
 Unless it be along with me.' 
 
 * I'll give thee the troth of my right hand. 
 
 The troth of it I'll freely gie ; 
 That for seven years I'll stay unwed. 
 For kindness thou dost shew to me.' 
 
 And she has bribed the proud warder. 
 With golden store and white money; 
 
 She's gotten the keys of the prison strong. 
 And she has set young Beichan free. 
 
LORD BEICHAN. 147 
 
 She's gi'en him to eat the good spice cake, 
 She's gi'en him to drink the blood-red wine ; 
 
 And every health she drank unto him, — 
 
 ' I wish, Lord Beichan, that you were mine.' 
 
 And she's bidden him sometimes think on her. 
 That so kindly freed him out of pine. 
 
 She's broken a ring from her finger. 
 And to Beichan half of it gave she, — 
 
 ' Keep it to mind you of that love 
 The lady bore that set you free.' 
 
 O ! she took him to her father's harboiir, 
 And a ship of fame to him gave she j 
 
 ' Farewell, farewell, to you, Lord Beichan, 
 Shall I e'er again you see? 
 
 '- Set your foot on the good ship board, 
 And haste ye back to your own countrie; 
 
 And before seven years have an end. 
 Come back again, love, and marry me.' 
 
 Now seven long years are gone and past. 
 And sore she longed her love to see; 
 
 For ever a voice within her breast 
 
 Said, ^ Beichan has broken his vow to thee !' 
 
 So she's set her foot on the good ship board. 
 And turned her back on her own countrie. 
 
 She sailM east, she sailed west. 
 
 Till to fair England's shore came she ; 
 
 Where a bonny shepherd she espied. 
 Feeding his sheep upon the lea. 
 
 ' What news, what news, thou bonnie shepherd ? 
 
 What news hast thou to tell meT 
 ^ Such news, I hear, lad^^e,' he said, 
 
 ' The like was never in this countrie. 
 
 10—* 
 
148 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 ' There is a weddiii' in yonder hall, 
 
 Has lasted thirty days and three ; 
 But young Lord Beichan won't bed with his bride, 
 
 For love of one that's ayond the sea.' 
 
 She's putten her hand in her pocket, 
 Gi'en him the gold and white money ; 
 
 * Here, tak' ye that, my bonnie boy, 
 
 For the good news thou tell'st to me.' 
 
 When she came to Lord Beichan's gate, 
 
 She tirlld softly at the pin ; 
 And ready was the proud warder 
 
 To open and let this ladye in. 
 
 When she came to Lord Beichan's castle, 
 
 So boldly she rang the bell ; 
 ^ Who's there? who's there?' cried the proud porter, 
 
 ' Who's there? unto me come tell?' 
 
 ^ ! is this Lord Beichan's castle? 
 
 Or is that noble lord within?' 
 ' Yea, he is in the hall among them all, 
 
 And this is the day of his weddin'. ' 
 
 ^ And has he wed anither love? — 
 
 And has he clean forgotten me?' 
 And, sighing, said that ladye gay, 
 
 * I wish I was in my own countrie.' 
 
 And she has ta'en her gay gold ring, 
 That with her love she brake so free, 
 
 ^ Gie him that, ye proud porter. 
 
 And bid the bridegroom speak to me. 
 
 * Tell him to send me a slice of bread. 
 
 And a cup of blood-red wine. 
 And not to forget the fair young ladye 
 That did release him out of pine.' 
 
LOKD BEICHAN. 149 
 
 Away, and away went the proud porter, 
 Away, and away, and away went he, 
 
 Until he came to Lord Beichan's presence, 
 Down he fell on his bended knee. 
 
 * What aileth thee, my proud porter, 
 
 Thou art so full of courtesie 1 ' 
 
 * I've been porter at your gates, — 
 
 It's thirty long years now, and three, 
 But there stands a ladye at them now. 
 The like of her I ne'er did see. 
 
 ' For on every finger she has a ring. 
 And on her mid-finger she has three; 
 
 And as much gay gold above her brow 
 As would an earldom buy to me; 
 
 And as much gay clothing round about her 
 As would buy all Northumberlea.' 
 
 It's out then spak' the bride's mother, — 
 Aye, and an angry woman was she, — 
 
 ' Ye might have excepted the bonnie bride. 
 And two or three of our companie.' 
 
 ' 1 hold your tongue, ye silly frow, 
 
 Of all your folly let me be ; 
 She's ten times fairer than the bride, 
 
 And all that's in your companie. 
 
 ' She asks one sheave of my lord's white bread. 
 
 And a cup of his red, red wine; 
 And to remember the ladye's love 
 
 That kindly freed him out of pine.' 
 
 Lord Beichan then in a passion flew, 
 And broke his sword in splinters three; 
 
 ^ O, well a day !' did Beichan say, 
 * That I so soon have married thee ! 
 
 For it can be none but dear Saphia, 
 That's cross'd the deep for love of me !' 
 
150 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 And quickly hied he down the stair, 
 Of fifteeo steps he made but three ; 
 
 He's ta'en his bonnie love in his arms, 
 And kist, and kist her tenderlie. 
 
 * O ! have ye taken another bride ? 
 
 And have ye quite forgotten me? 
 And have ye quite forgotten one 
 That gave you life and libertie f 
 
 She looked o'er her left shoulder 
 To hide the tears stood in her ee ; 
 
 *Now fare-thee-well, young Beichan,' she says, 
 ^ I'll try to think no more on thee.' 
 
 ' O ! never, never, my Saphia, 
 
 For surely this can never be ; 
 !Nor ever shall I wed but her 
 
 That's done and dreed so much for me.' 
 
 Then out and spak' the forenoon bride : 
 ' My Lord, your love is changed soon ; 
 
 At morning I am made your bride. 
 And another's chose, ere -it be noon T 
 
 * ! sorrow not, thou forenoon bride 
 
 Our hearts could ne'er united be; 
 Ye must return to your own countrie, 
 A double dower I'll send with thee.' 
 
 And up and spak' the young bride's mother, 
 Who never was heard to speak so free, — 
 
 ' And so you treat my only daughter, 
 Because Saphia has crossed the sea.' 
 
 * I own I made a bride of your daughter, 
 
 She's ne'er a whit the worse for me. 
 She came to me with her horse and saddle, 
 She may go back in her coach and three.' 
 
KING HENRY THE FIPTH's CONQUEST. 151 
 
 He's ta'en Saphia by the white hand, 
 And gently led her up and down; 
 
 And aye as he kist her rosy lips, 
 
 * Ye're welcome, dear one, to your own.* 
 
 He's ta'en her by the milk-white hand, 
 And led her to yon fountain stane; 
 
 Her name he's changed from Saphia, 
 
 And he's called his bonnie love Lady Jane. 
 
 Lord Beichan prepared another marriage. 
 And sang with heart so full of glee, 
 
 * I'll range no more in foreign countries, 
 Now since my love has crossed the sea.' 
 
 KING HENRY THE EIFTH's CONQUEST. 
 
 [Feom Ancient Poems, Ballads, Sfc, printed for the Percy 
 Society. Mr, Dixon took down the copy from the singing of 
 an eccentric character, known in the western dales of York- 
 shire as * The Skipton Minstrel.* A line quoted from it in 
 a Medley, published about the close of the sixteenth, or early 
 in the seventeenth century, seems to establish its date. The 
 incident of the tennis balls is alluded to by Hume, but dis- 
 credited by him. He says that some historians relate that the 
 Dauphin, in derision of Henry's claims and character, sent 
 him a box of tennis balls, as being better adapted to him than 
 the implements of war ; but he adds, that the story is incom- 
 patible with the great offers made by France, which showed 
 that they fully appreciated Henry's character, and their own 
 situation.] 
 
 i S our king lay musing on his bed, 
 ■^ He bethought himself upon a time, 
 Of a tribute that was due from France, 
 Had not been paid for so long a time. 
 
 Down, a down, a down, a down, 
 Down, a down, a down. 
 
152 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 He called on his trusty page, 
 His trusty page then called he, 
 ^ Oh, you must go to the king of France, 
 Oh, you must go right speedilie. 
 Down, a down, &c. 
 
 * And tell him of my tribute due, 
 Ten ton of gold that's due to me; 
 That he must send my tribute home, 
 Or in French land he soon will me see.' 
 
 Down, a down, &c. 
 
 Oh, then away went the trusty page, 
 Away, away, and away went he. 
 Until he came to the king of France, 
 Lo ! he fell down on his bended knee, 
 Down, a down, &c. 
 
 ' My master greets you, worthy sire, 
 Ten ton of gold there is due, says he, 
 You must send him his tribute home. 
 Or in French land you will soon him see.' 
 Down, a down, &c. 
 
 * Your master's young, and of tender years. 
 Not fit to come into my degree ; 
 
 But I will send him three tennis balls. 
 
 That with them learn to play may he.' 
 
 Down, a down, &c. 
 
 Oh, then away came the trusty page, 
 Away, and away, and away came he. 
 Until he came to our gracious king, 
 Lo ! he fell down on his bended knee. 
 Down, adown, &c. 
 
 * What news, what news, my trusty page, 
 What news, what news, hast thou brought to mef 
 ' I've brought such news from the king of France, 
 That you and he will ne'er agree. 
 
 Down, a down, &c. 
 
KING HENRY THE FIFTH's CONQUEST. 153 
 
 * He says you're young, and of tender years, 
 Not fit to come into his degre, 
 
 But he will send you three tennis balls, 
 That with them you may learn to play.' 
 Down, a down, &c. 
 
 Oh, then bespoke our noble king, 
 A solemn vow then vowed he : 
 ' I'll promise him such tennis balls, 
 As in French lands he ne'er did sec. 
 Down, a down, (fee. 
 
 ' Go, call up Cheshire and Lancashire, 
 And Derby hills, that are so free; 
 Not a married man, nor a widow's son. 
 For the widow's cry shall not go with me.' 
 Down, a down, &c. 
 
 They called up Cheshire and Lancashire, 
 And Derby lads that were so free, 
 Not a married man, nor a widow's son. 
 Yet they were a jovial bold companie. 
 Down, a down, &c. 
 
 Oh, then he sailed to fair French land, 
 With drums and trumpets so merrilie. 
 Oh, then bespoke the king of France, 
 
 * Yonder comes proud king Henrie.' 
 
 Down, a down, &c. 
 
 The first fire that the Frenchmen gave. 
 They killed our Englishmen so free; 
 We killed ten thousand of the French, 
 And the rest of them they were forced to flee. 
 Down, a down, &c. 
 
 And then we marched to Paris gates. 
 With drums and trumpets so merrilie; 
 Oh, then bespoke the king of France, 
 
 * Lord ! have mercy on my poor men and me ! 
 
 Down, a down, (fee. 
 
154 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 ^ Go ! tell him I'll send home his tribute due, 
 Ten ton of gold that is due from me ; 
 And the fairest flower that is in our French land 
 To the Rose of England it shall go free.' 
 Down, a down, &c. 
 
 THE JOLLY HARPER. 
 
 [Theee are two other versions of this ballad ; one published 
 in The Border Minstrelsy, and the other in Johnson's Scots 
 Musical Museum. The following text, which possesses 
 more humour, and relates the story more clearly than either, 
 is taken from the collection edited by Mr. Dixon for the Percy 
 Society. In the former copies the Harper is represented as 
 a native of Lochmaben, and the scene of the theft is laid at 
 Carlisle, which gives a greater air of probability to the inci- 
 dent, since, as Mr. Dixon observes, the distance between 
 Scotland and London, and the state of the roads in times of 
 old, would render the journey almost an impossible under- 
 taking. But the early ballads abound in wonderful exploits, 
 and the earliest generally make the largest demands on our 
 credulity. This is certainly the best version of the three, and 
 bears in its diction and versification the most decisive evidence 
 of antiquit3\ In one particular, Scott's copy has the ad- 
 vantage, by letting the reader see, in the first instance, the 
 device of the Harper. Before he sets out in his expedition to 
 steal the king's Wanton Broun he consults his wife : — 
 
 ' But first he gaed to his gude wife, 
 
 Wi' a' the haste that he could thole — 
 ' This wark,' quo' he, ' wil ne'er gae weel. 
 Without a mare that has a foal.' 
 
 Quo' she, ' Thou hast a gude gray mare, 
 
 That can baith lance o'er laigh and hie j 
 
 Sae set thee on the gray mare's back, 
 And leave the foal at hame wi' me.* 
 
THE JOLLY HARPER. 155 
 
 We are thus prepared for the instinct which leads the gray 
 mare to return home the moment she is let out of the king's 
 stable.] 
 
 THEUE was ane jolly harper man, 
 That harpit aye frae toun to toun ; 
 A wager he made, wi' two knichts he laid, 
 To steal King Henrie's Wanton Broun. 
 
 Sir E-oger he wagered five ploughs o' Ian', 
 
 Sir Charles he wagered Rve thousand pound, 
 
 And John he's taen the deed i' han'. 
 
 To steal King Henrie's Wanton Broun. 
 
 He's taen his harp into his han'. 
 
 And he gaed harpin' thro' the toun; 
 
 And as the king i' his palace sat. 
 
 His ear was touchit wi' the soun'. 
 
 ' Come in, come in, ye harper man. 
 Some o' your harpin' let me hear.' 
 
 ' Indeed, my liege, an' by your grace, 
 
 I'd rather hae stablin' for my meare.' 
 
 * Ye'll gang to yon outer court, 
 
 That stands a little below the toun ; 
 
 Yell find a stable snug and neat. 
 
 Where stands my statelie Wanton Broun.' 
 
 He's doun him to the outer court. 
 
 That stood a little below the toun; 
 
 There found a stable snug and neat, 
 
 For stately stuid the Wanton Broun. 
 
 Then he has fixt a guid Strang cord. 
 Unto his gray mare's bridle rein; 
 
 And tied it unto that steed's tail, 
 
 Syne shut the stable door behin*. 
 
156 EAELY BALLADS. 
 
 Then he harpit on, an' he harpit on, 
 Till a' the lords were fast asleip ; 
 
 Then doun thro' bouir and ha' he's gane, 
 Even on his hands and feet. 
 
 He's to yon stable snug and neat. 
 
 That lay a little below thetoun; 
 
 For there he placed his ain gray meare, 
 
 Alang wi' King Henrie's Wanton Broun. 
 
 * Ye'll do you doun thro' mire an' moss, 
 Thro' mony a bog an' niiery hole; 
 
 But never miss your Wanton slack, 
 
 Ye'll gang to Mayblane to your foal.' 
 
 As suin's the door he had unshut, 
 
 The meare gaed prancin' frae the toun; 
 
 An' at her bridle rein was tied 
 
 King Henrie's statelie Wanton Broun. 
 
 Then she did rin' thro' mire an' moss. 
 Thro' mony a bog an' miery hole; 
 
 But never missed her Wanton slack,* 
 
 Till she reached Mayblane to her foal. 
 
 When the king awakit frae sleip. 
 He to the harper man did say, 
 
 ' O ! waken ye, waken ye, jolly John, 
 We've fairly slept till it is day. 
 
 ' Win up, win up, ye harper man. 
 
 Some mair o' harpin' ye'll gie me.' 
 
 He said, ^ My liege, wi' a' my heart. 
 
 But first my gude gray meare maun see.' 
 
 Then forth he ran, and in he cam', 
 Droppin' mony a feigned tear; 
 
 ' Some rogues hae broke the outer court. 
 An' stown awa' my gude gray meare.' 
 
THE JOLLY HARPER. 157 
 
 ' Then by my sooth/ the king replied, 
 
 ' If there's been rogues into the toun, 
 
 I fear as weel as your gray meare, 
 
 Awa's my stately Wanton Broun.' 
 
 ' My loss is great/ the harper said, 
 
 ^ My loss is twice as great, I feare, 
 
 In Scotland I lost a gude gray steed, 
 
 An' here I've lost a gude gray meare.' 
 
 ' Come on, come on, ye harper man, 
 Some o' your music lat me hear ; 
 
 Weel paid ye'se be, John, for the same, 
 
 An' likewise for your gude gray meare. 
 
 When that John his money received. 
 
 Then he went harpin' frae the toun; 
 
 But little did King Henrie ken, 
 
 He'd stow'n awa' his Wanton Broun. 
 
 The knichts then lay ower castle wa,' 
 
 An' they beheld baith dale an' doun ; 
 
 An' saw the jolly harper man. 
 
 Come harpin' on to Striveling toun. 
 
 ^ Then by my sooth,' Sir Roger said, 
 ' Are ye returnM back to toun? 
 
 I doubt, my lad, ye hae ill sped, 
 
 O' stealin' o' the Wanton Broun.' 
 
 * I hae been into fair England, 
 
 An' even into Lunan toun; 
 An' in King Henrie's outer court. 
 
 An' stow'n awa' the Wanton Broun.' 
 
 * Ye lee, ye lee,' Sir Charles he said, 
 
 * An' aye sae loud's I hear ye lee ; 
 Twall armed men in armour bricht. 
 
 They guard the stable nicht and day.' 
 
158 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 ' But I did harp them a' asleip, 
 
 An' managed my business cunninglie ; 
 
 If ye mak' licht o' what I say, 
 
 Come to the stable an' ye'll see. 
 
 ' My music pleased the king sae weel, 
 
 Mair o' my harpin' he wished to hear, 
 
 An' for the same he paid me weel, 
 
 And also for my gude gray meare.' 
 
 Then he drew out a gude lang purse, 
 
 Well stored wi' gowd an' white monie; 
 
 And in a short time after this, 
 
 The Wanton Broun he lat them see. 
 
 Sir Boger produced his ploughs o' Ian', 
 
 Sir Charles produced his thousand pound; 
 
 Then back to Henrie, the English king, 
 Restored the statelie Wanton Broun. 
 
 MARY AMBREE. 
 
 [Frequent allusions are made by the Elizabethan dramatists 
 to the Amazon who is the heroine of this ballad, and whose 
 exploits obtained considerable celebrity in her own day. The 
 siege of Ghent, in which she is supposed to have distinguished 
 herself, took place in 1586, and as there is a direct allusion 
 to the ballad in one of Ben Jonson's Masques^ produced in 
 1626, its authorship may be assigned to the close of the six- 
 teenth or the beginning of the seventeenth century. Dr. 
 Percy says that it is evident that Mary Ambree is the virago 
 designated by Butler under the title of " English Moll ;" but 
 this is a mistake. The " English Moll" of Butler was the 
 notorious Mary Carlton, sometimes called English Moll, or 
 Kentish Moll, and commonly known as the German Princess. 
 See Butler's Foems, Ann. Ed., I. 96.] 
 
MARY AMBREE. 159 
 
 TTTHEN captains courageous, whom death could 
 " ' not daunt, 
 
 Did march to the siege of the city of Gaunt, 
 They mustered their soldiers by two and by three, 
 And the foremost in battle was Mary Ambree. 
 
 When brave Sir John Major was slain in her sight, 
 Who was her true lover, her joy, and delight. 
 Because he was slain most treacherously, 
 Then vowed to revenge him, Mary Ambree. 
 
 She clothed herself from the top to the toe 
 In buff of the bravest, most seemly to show; 
 A fair shirt of mail then slipped on she; 
 Was not this a brave bonny lass, Mary Ambree ? 
 
 A helmet of proof she straight did provide, 
 A strong arming sword she girt by her side, 
 On her hand a goodly fair gauntlet put she ; 
 Was not this a brave bonny lass, Mary Ambree? 
 
 Then took she her sword and her target in hand. 
 Bidding all such, as wG*>iald, be of her band ; ♦ 
 To wait on her person came thousand and three ; 
 Was not this a brave bonny lass, Mary Ambree? 
 
 ^ My soldiers,' she saith, ' so valiant and bold. 
 Now follow your captain, whom you do behold ; 
 Still foremost in battle myself will I be :' 
 Was not this a brave bonny lass, Mary Ambree ? 
 
 Then cried out her soldiers, and loud they did say, 
 * So well thou becomest this gallant array, 
 Thy heart and thy weapons so well do agree, 
 There was none ever like Mary Ambree.' 
 
 She cheered her soldiers, that fought en for life. 
 With ancient and standard, with drum and with fife, 
 With brave clanging trumpets, that sounded so free ; 
 Was not this a brave bonny lass, Mary Ambree 1 
 
160 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 * Before I will see the worst of you all 
 
 To come into danger of death, or of thrall, 
 This hand and this life I will venture so free :' 
 Was not this a brave bonny lass, Mary Ambree? 
 
 She led up her soldiers in battle array, 
 
 'Gainst three times their number by break of the day '^ 
 
 Seven hours in skirmish continued she ; 
 
 Was not this a brave bonny lass, Mary Ambree ? 
 
 She filled the skies with the smoke of her shot. 
 And her enemies' bodies with bullets so hot; 
 For one of her own men a score killed she ; 
 Was not this a brave bonny lass, Mary Ambree? 
 
 And when her false gunner, to spoil her intent, 
 Away all her pellets and powder had sent, [three ; 
 
 Straight with her keen weapon she slashed him in 
 Was not this a brave bonny lass, Mary Ambree? 
 
 Being falsely betrayed for lucre of hire, 
 At length she was forced to make a retire; 
 Then her soldiers into a strong castle drew she; 
 Was not this a brave bonny lass, Mary Ambree? 
 
 Her foes they beset her on every side. 
 As thinking close siege she could never abide; 
 To beat down the walls they all did decree : 
 But stoutly defied them brave Mary Ambree. 
 
 Then took she her sword and her target in hand, 
 And mounting the walls all undaunted did stand. 
 There daring their captains to match any three; 
 O, what a brave captain was Mary Ambree ! 
 
 * Now say, English captain, what woiildest thou give 
 To ransom thyself, which else must not live? 
 
 Come yield thyself quickly, or slain thou must be.' 
 Then smiled sweetly brave Mary Ambree. 
 
THE DEATH OF PARCY REED. 161 
 
 ' Ye captains courageous, of valour so bold, 
 Whom think you before you now you do behold?' 
 * A knight, sir, of England, and captain so free, 
 Who shortly with us a prisoner must be.* 
 
 ' No captain of England ; behold in your sight, 
 Two breasts in my bosom, and therefore no knight; 
 No knight, sirs, of England, nor captain you see, 
 But a poor simple lass, called Mary Ambree.' 
 
 ' But art thou a woman as thou dost declare. 
 Whose valour hath proved so undaunted in war? 
 If England doth yield such brave lasses as thee. 
 Full well may they conquer, fair Mary Ambree.' 
 
 The Prince of great Parma heard of her renown, 
 Who long had advanced for England's fair crown; 
 He wooed her and sued her his mistress to be, 
 And offered rich presents to Mary Ambree. 
 
 But this virtuous maiden despised them all, 
 ' I'll ne'er sell my honour for purple nor pall : 
 A maiden of England, sir, never will be 
 The whore of a monarch,' quoth Mary Ambree. 
 
 Then to her own country she back did return, 
 Still holding the foes of fair England in scorn ; 
 Therefore English captains of every degree 
 Sing forth the brave valours of Mary Ambree. 
 
 THE DEATH OF PAECY REED. 
 
 [Originally published in the Local HistoriarCs Table 
 Book, by Mr. Robert White, as taken down from the chant- 
 ing of an old woman who resided at Fairloans, Roxburghshire. 
 Mr. White gives the following accoimt of the person whose 
 death forms the subject of the ballad ; — * Percival, or Parcy 
 
 EARLY BAIiLADS. 11 
 
162 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 Keed, was proprietor of Troughend, an elevated tract of land 
 lying on the west side, and nearly in the centre of Redesdale, 
 Northumberland. His office was to suppress and order the 
 apprehension of thieves, and other breakers of the law ; in the 
 execution of which he incurred the displeasure of a family of 
 brothers of the name of Hall, who were owners of Girsons- 
 field, a farm about two miles east from Troughend. He also 
 drew upon himself the hostility of a band of moss-troopers. 
 Crosier by name, some of whom he had been successful in 
 bringing to justice.' Mr. Dixon, who republished the ballad, 
 observes, that the catastrophe is said to have occurred in the 
 sixteenth century ; and that the murder of Reed, the circum- 
 stances of which are accurately detailed in the ballad, is an 
 historical fact.] Y, JfT^^ L SdA. ."^ , 
 
 GOD send the land deliverance 
 Frae every reaving, riding Scot : 
 We'll sune hae neither cow nor ewe, 
 We'll sune hae neither staig nor stot. 
 
 The outlaws come frae Liddesdale, 
 They herry Redesdale far and near; 
 
 The rich man's gelding it maun gang, 
 They canna pass the puir man's meare. 
 
 Sure it were weel, had ilka thief 
 Around his neck a halter Strang; 
 
 And curses heavy may they light 
 On traitors vile ourselves amang. 
 
 Now Parcy Reed has Crosier ta'en, 
 He has delivered him to the law ; 
 
 But Crosier says he'll do waur than that, 
 He'll make the tower o' Troughend fa'. 
 
 And Crosier says he will do waur — 
 He will do waur if waur can be ; 
 
 He'll make the bairns a' fatherless. 
 And then, the land it may lie lee. 
 
THE DEATH OF PARCY REED. 163 
 
 * To the hunting, ho !' cried Parcy Reed, 
 
 'The morning sun is on the dew; 
 The cauler breeze frae off the fells 
 
 Will lead the dogs to the quarry true. 
 
 * To the hunting, ho ! ' cried Parcy Eeed, 
 
 And to the hunting he has gane ; 
 And the three fause Ha's o' Girsonsfield 
 Alang wi' him he has them ta'en. 
 
 They hunted high, they hunted low, 
 By heathery hill and birken shaw; 
 
 They raised a buck on Rooken Edge, 
 And blew the niort at fair Ealylawe. 
 
 They hunted high, they hunted low, 
 They made the echoes ring amain; 
 
 With music sweet o' horn and hound, 
 They merry made fair Redesdale glen. 
 
 They hunted high, they hunted low, 
 They hunted up, they hunted down. 
 
 Until the day was past the prime, 
 And it grew late in the afternoon. 
 
 They hunted high in Batinghope, 
 When as the sun was sinking low, 
 
 Says Parcy then, * Ga' off the dogs. 
 
 We'll bait our steeds and hameward go.' 
 
 They lighted high in Batinghope, 
 
 At ween the brown and benty ground; 
 
 They had but rested a little while, 
 Till Parcy Reed was sleeping sound. 
 
 There's nane may lean on a rotten staff, 
 
 But him that risks to get a fa' ; 
 There's nane may in a traitor trust. 
 
 And traitors black were every Ha'. 
 
 11—3 
 
164 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 They've stown the bridle off his steed, 
 And they've put water in his lang gun ; 
 
 They've fixed his sword within the sheath, 
 That out again it winna come. 
 
 * Awaken ye, waken ye, Parcy Reed, 
 
 Or by your enemies be ta'en; 
 For yonder are the five Crosiers 
 A-coming owre the Hingin'-stane.' 
 
 ' If they be five, and we be four, 
 Sae that ye stand alang wi' me, 
 
 Then every man ye will take one. 
 And only leave bu^ two to me : 
 
 We will them meet as brave men ought, 
 And make them either fight or flee.' 
 
 * We mayna stand, we canna stand. 
 
 We daurna stand alang wi' thee; 
 The Crosiers haud thee at a feud. 
 
 And they wad kill baith thee and we.' 
 
 * turn thee, turn thee, Johnie Ha', 
 
 O, turn thee, man, and fight wi' me ; 
 When ye come to Troughend again. 
 
 My gude black naig I will gie thee ; 
 He cost full twenty pound o' gowd, 
 
 Atween my brother John and me.' 
 
 ' I mayna turn, I canna turn, 
 
 I daurna turn and fight wi' thee; 
 
 The Crosiers haud thee at a feud, 
 
 And they wad kill both thee and me.' 
 
 * O, turn thee, turn thee, Willie Ha', 
 
 O, turn thee, man, and fight wi' me; 
 When ye come to Troughend again, 
 A yoke o' owsen I'll gie thee.' 
 
THE DEATH OF PARCY REED. 165 
 
 ' I mayna turn, I canna turn, 
 
 I daurna turn and fight wi' thee; 
 
 The Crosiers haud thee at a feud, 
 
 And they wad kill baith thee and me.' 
 
 ' O, turn thee, turn thee. Tommy Ha' — 
 O, turn now, man, and fight wi' me; 
 
 If ever we come to Troughend again, 
 My daughter Jean I'll gie to thee.' 
 
 * I mayna turn, I canna turn, 
 
 I daurna turn and fight wi' thee; 
 The Crosiers haud thee at a feud. 
 
 And they wad kill baith thee and me.' 
 
 * 0, shame upon ye, traitors a' ! 
 
 I wish your hames ye may never see ; 
 Ye've stown the bridle off my naig, 
 And I can neither fight nor flee. 
 
 * Ye've stown the bridle off my naig. 
 
 And ye've put water i' my lang gun; 
 Ye've fixed my sword within the sheath, 
 That out again it winna come.' 
 
 He had but time to cross himsel' — 
 
 A prayer he hadna time to say, 
 Till round him came the Crosiers keen, 
 
 All riding graithed, and in array. 
 
 * Weel met, weel met now, Parcy Keed, 
 
 Thou art the very man we sought; 
 Owre lang hae we been in your debt, 
 Now will we pay ye as we ought. 
 
 ' We'll pay thee at the nearest tree. 
 
 Where we shall hang thee like a hound.' 
 Brave Parcy raised his fankit sword 
 
 And felled the foremost to the ground. 
 
166 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 Alake, and wae for Parcy Reed — 
 Alake he was an unarmed man : 
 
 Four weapons pierced him all at once, 
 As they assailed him there and than. 
 
 They fell upon him all at once, 
 They mangled him most cruellie; 
 
 The slightest wound might cause his deid. 
 And they hae gi'en him thirty-three. 
 
 They hackit off his hands and feet. 
 And left him lying on the lee. 
 
 ^ Now Parcy Reed, we've paid our debt, 
 Ye canna weel dispute the tale,' 
 
 The Crosiers said, and off they rade — 
 They rade the airt o' Liddesdale. 
 
 It was the hour o' gloamin' gray. 
 
 When herds came in frae fauld and pen; 
 
 A herd he saw a huntsman lie, 
 
 Says he, ^ Can this be Laird Troughen V 
 
 ' There's some will ca' me Parcy Reed, 
 And some will ca' me Laird Troughen' ; 
 
 It's little matter what they ca' me, 
 My faes hae made me ill to ken. 
 
 * There's some will ca' me Parcy Reed, 
 And speak my praise in tower and town ; 
 
 It's little matter what they do now. 
 My life-blood rudds the heather brown. 
 
 ' There's some will ca' me Parcy Reed, 
 And a' my virtues say and sing; 
 
 I would much rather have just now 
 A draught o' water frae the spring ! ' 
 
 The herd flang aff his clouted shoon. 
 And to the nearest fountain ran; 
 
 He made his bonnet serve a cup. 
 
 And wan the blessing o' the dying man. 
 
A FAMOUS SEA-FIGHT. 167 
 
 * Now, honest herd, ye maun do mair — 
 
 Ye maun do mair, as I ye tell; 
 Ye maun bear tidings to Troughend, 
 And bear likewise my last farewell. 
 
 * A farewell to my wedded wife, 
 
 A farewell to my brother John, 
 
 Wha sits into the Troughend tower, 
 
 Wi' heart as black as any stone. 
 
 ^ A farewell to my daughter Jean, 
 A farewell to my young sons ^ve; 
 
 Had they been at their father's hand, 
 I had this night been man alive. 
 
 ^ A farewell to my followers a'. 
 
 And a' my neighbours gude at need; 
 
 Bid them think how the treacherous Ha's 
 Betrayed the life o' Parcy E-eed. 
 
 ' The Laird o' Clennel bears my bow. 
 The Laird o' Brandon bears my brand; 
 
 Whene'er they ride i' the border side, 
 
 They'll mind the fate o' the Laird Troughend. 
 
 A FAMOUS SEA-FIGHT BETWEEN CAPTAIN 
 WARD AND THE RAINBOW. 
 
 [From a broadside in the British Museum Collection of Old 
 Ballads.] 
 
 CTRIKE up, you lusty gallants, 
 ^ With music and sound of drum, 
 For we have descried a rover 
 Upon the sea is come. 
 
168 EAELY BALLADS. 
 
 H-is name is Captain Ward, 
 Right well it doth appear, 
 
 There has not been such a rover 
 Found out this thousand year. 
 
 Eor he hath sent unto the king. 
 
 The sixth of January, 
 Desiring that he might come in 
 
 With all his company : 
 ' And if your king will let me come, 
 
 Till I my tale have told, 
 I will bestow for my ransom 
 
 Full thirty ton of gold.' 
 
 ' O nay, O nay,' then said our king, 
 
 ' O nay, this may not be. 
 To yield to such a rover 
 
 Myself will not agree ; 
 He hath deceived the Frenchman, 
 
 Likewise the King of Spain, 
 And how can he be true to me, 
 
 That hath been false to twain f 
 
 With that our king provided 
 
 A ship of worthy fame, 
 Rainbow is she called. 
 
 If you would know her name ; 
 Now the gallant Rainbow 
 
 She roves upon the sea. 
 Five hundred gallant seamen 
 
 To bear her company. 
 
 The Dutchman and the Spaniard, 
 
 She made them for to flee. 
 Also the bonny Frenchman, 
 
 As she met him on the sea. 
 When as this gallant Rainbow 
 
 Did come where Ward did lie, 
 ' Where is the captain of this ship? 
 
 This gallant Rainbow did cry 
 
A FAMOUS SEA-FIGHT. 169 
 
 ' Oh that am I,' says Captain Ward, 
 ' There's no man bids me lie ; 
 
 And if thou art the king's fair ship, 
 Thou art welcome unto me.' 
 
 * I tell thee what,' says Rainbow, 
 
 ^ Our king is in great grief, 
 
 That thou shouldst lie upon the sea, 
 
 And play the arrant thief, 
 
 * And will not let our merchants' ships 
 
 Pass as they did before ; 
 Such tidings to our king is come 
 
 Which grieves his heart full sore.' 
 With that this gallant Rainbow 
 
 She shot out of her pride. 
 Full fifty gallant brass pieces. 
 
 Charged on every side. 
 
 And yet these gallant shooters, 
 
 Prevailed not a pin; 
 Though they were brass on the outside, 
 
 Brave Ward was steel within : 
 
 * Shoot on, shoot on,' says Captain Ward, 
 
 * Your sport well pleaseth me. 
 And he that first gives over, 
 Shall yield unto the sea. 
 
 ' I never wronged an English ship. 
 
 But Turk, and King of Spain, 
 And the jovial Dutchman, 
 
 As I met on the main. 
 If I had known your king 
 
 But one two years before, 
 I would have saved brave Essex' life. 
 
 Whose death did grieve me sore. 
 
 ' Go tell the King of England, 
 
 Go tell him thus from me. 
 If he reign king of all the land, 
 
 I will reign king at sea.' 
 
170 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 With that the gallant Rainbow shot, 
 And shot, and shot in vain, 
 
 And left the rover's company, 
 And returned home again. 
 
 * Our royal king of England, 
 
 Your ship's returned again. 
 For Ward's ship is so strong 
 
 It never will be ta'en.' 
 ' Everlasting,' says our king, 
 
 ' I have lost jewels three, 
 Which would have gone unto the seas. 
 
 And brought proud Ward to me ! 
 
 ' The first was Lord Clifibrd, 
 
 Earl of Cumberland ; 
 The second was Lord Mountjoy, 
 
 As you shall understand; 
 The third was brave Essex, 
 
 From field would never flee. 
 Which would agone unto the seas. 
 
 And brought proud Ward to me.' 
 
 LADY GREENSLEEVES. 
 
 [Feom a Sandfull of Pleasant Delites, 1584. The full 
 title is A New Courtly Sonet, of the Lady Greensleeves. 
 Independently of its merits as a lyric, it is extremely curious 
 as a picture of costume, embracing a complete description of 
 the wardrobe of a lady in the time of Elizabeth. It was 
 written to the popular tune of Greensleeves, alluded to by 
 Shakspeare in The Merry Wives oj Windsor, v. 5. The 
 music of the air will be found in Mr. Chappell's Ancient 
 English Melodies, This piece was reprinted by Mr. Fair- 
 holt, in his excellent collection of Songs and Poems on Cos- 
 tume, published by the Percy Society.] 
 
LADY GREENSLEEVES. 171 
 
 GEEENSLEEYES was all my joy, 
 Greensleeves was my delight : 
 Greensleeves was my hart of gold, 
 And who but Lady Greensleeves. 
 
 Alas, my love, ye do me wrong, 
 
 To cast me off discourteously : 
 And I have loved you so long, 
 
 Delighting in your company! 
 
 Greensleeves, &c. 
 
 I have been ready at your hand. 
 
 To grant whatever you would crave ; 
 
 I have both waged life and land, 
 
 Your love and good-will for to have. 
 Greensleeves, &c. 
 
 I bought three kerchers to thy head. 
 That were wrought fine and gallantly : 
 
 I kept them, both at board and bed, 
 Which cost my purse well-favour'dly. 
 Greensleeves, &c. 
 
 I bought thee petticoats of the best, 
 The cloth so fine as fine might 'be : 
 
 I gave thee jewels for thy chest ; 
 And all this cost I spent on thee. 
 Greensleeves, &c. 
 
 Thy smock of silk both fair and white. 
 With gold embroidered gorgeously : 
 
 Thy petticoat of sendall* right; 
 And this I bought thee gladly. 
 
 Greensleeves, <fec. 
 
 Thy girdle of gold so red. 
 
 With pearls bedecked sumptuously, 
 The like no other lasses had : 
 
 And yet thou wouldst not love me ! 
 Greensleeves, &c. 
 
 * A thin silk. 
 
172 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 Thy purse, and eke thy gay gilt knives,* 
 Thy pin-case, gallant to the eye : 
 
 No better wore the burgess' wives : 
 And yet thou wouldst not love me ! 
 
 Greensleeves, &c. 
 
 Thy crimson stockings, all of silk, 
 
 With gold all wrought above the knee ; 
 
 Thy pumps, as white as was the milk : 
 And yet thou wouldst not love me ! 
 
 Greensleeves, &c. 
 
 Thy gown was of the grassy green, 
 Thy sleeves of satin hanging by ; 
 
 Which made thee be our harvest queen : 
 And yet thou wouldst not love me ! 
 
 Greensleeves, &c. 
 
 Thy garters fringed with the gold, 
 And silver aglets t hanging by; 
 
 Which made thee blithe for to behold : 
 And yet thou wouldst not love me ! 
 
 Greensleeves, &c. 
 
 * 'Purses,' says Mr. Fairholt, 'have been worn, by ladies, at the 
 girdle from the earliest times, and knives were added in the sixteenth 
 century, and were contained in chased and jewelled cases of much 
 value.' The custom of wearing pen-knives hanging from the waist is 
 often alluded to. Thus in the old Scotch legend of Glasgerion : — 
 
 ' Oh ! then it was your lithe foot-page, 
 
 He hath beguiled me ;' 
 Then she pulled out a little pen-knife 
 That hanged by her knee.' 
 See also The Jew's Daughter, post, p. 190. The custom was not confined 
 to ladies. In the ballad of Young Johnstone, published by Finlay, we 
 find the following passage : — 
 
 ' But young Johnstone had a wee pen-knife, 
 Hung low down by his gair, 
 And he ritted it through his dear ladie. 
 And wounded her sae sair.' 
 
 Mr. Finlay explains the word gair as * a piece of cloth inserted into a 
 garment to widen it' — which would be equivalent to the English word 
 gore. It was generally, however, used in the sense of gear, signifying 
 the whole dress. t A lace with tags. 
 
LADY GREENSLEEVES. 173 
 
 My gayest gelding I thee gave, 
 
 To ride wherever liked thee; 
 No lady ever was so brave : 
 
 And yet thou wouldst not love me ! 
 
 Greensleeves, &c. 
 
 My men were clothed all in green, 
 
 And they did ever wait on thee ; 
 All this was gallant to be seen : 
 
 And yet thou wouldst not love me ! 
 
 Greensleeves, &c. 
 
 They set thee up, they took thee down, 
 
 They served thee with humility; 
 Thy foot might not once touch the ground : 
 
 And yet thou wouldst not love me ! 
 
 Greensleeves, <fec. 
 
 For every morning, when thou rose, 
 
 I sent thee dainties, orderly. 
 To cheer thy stomach from all woes: 
 
 And yet thou wouldst not love me ! 
 
 Greensleeves, <fec. 
 
 Thou couldst desire no earthly thing, 
 
 But still thou hadst it readily. 
 Thy music, still to play and sing : 
 
 And yet thou wouldst not love me ! 
 
 Greensleeves, <fec. 
 
 And who did pay for all this gear. 
 
 That thou didst spend when pleased thee 1 
 
 Even I that am rejected here, 
 And thou disdainest to love me ! 
 
 Greensleeves, ike. 
 
 Well ! I will pray to God on high, 
 That thou my constancy mayst see. 
 
 And that, yet once before I die. 
 Thou wilt vouchsafe to love me ! 
 
 Greensleeves, (kc. 
 
174 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 Greensleeves, now farewell ! adieu ! 
 
 God I pray to prosper thee ! 
 For I am still thy lover true: 
 
 Come once again and love me ! 
 
 Greensleeves, &c. 
 
 TRUTH'S INTEGRITY. 
 
 [The fall title of this charming ballad is Truth's Integrity ; 
 or, a Curious Northern Ditty, called Love will find out the 
 way. Dr. Percy published a fragment of it, consistiag of 
 four stanzas of the first part, and an interpolated verse, from a 
 modern and incorrect copy. The following is taken from a 
 black-letter copy, reprinted in Evan's Old Ballads ^ iii. 282.] 
 
 FIRST PART. 
 
 OYER the mountains, 
 And under the waves, 
 Over the fountains, 
 
 And under the graves, 
 Under floods which are deepest, 
 
 Which do Neptune obey. 
 Over rocks which are steepest. 
 Love will find out the way. 
 
 Where there is no place 
 
 For the glow-worm to lie, 
 Where there is no place 
 
 For the receipt of a fly. 
 Where the gnat dares not venture. 
 
 Lest herself fast she lay. 
 But if Love come he will enter. 
 
 And find out the way. 
 
 You may esteem him 
 
 A child of his force. 
 Or you may deem him 
 
 A coward, which is worse; 
 
truth's integrity. 175 
 
 But if he whom Love doth honour, 
 
 Be concealed from the day, 
 Set a thousand guards upon him, 
 
 Love will find out the way. 
 
 Some think to lose him, 
 
 Which is too unkind, 
 And some do suppose him. 
 
 Poor heart, to be blind; 
 But if he were hidden, 
 
 Do the best you may. 
 Blind Love, if you so call him. 
 
 Will find out the way. 
 
 Well may the eagle 
 
 Stoop down to the fist, 
 Or you may inveigle 
 
 The Phoenix of the east; 
 With fear the tiger's moved. 
 
 To give over their prey, 
 But never stop a lover, 
 
 He will find out the way. 
 
 From Dover to Berwick, 
 
 And nations thereabout. 
 Brave Guy, Earl of Warwick, 
 
 That champion so stout. 
 With his warlike behaviour, 
 
 Through the world he did stray, 
 To win his Phillis' favour, 
 
 Love will find out the way. 
 
 In order next enters 
 
 Bevis so brave. 
 After adventures 
 
 And policy brave. 
 To see whom he desii'ed, 
 
 His Josian so gay. 
 For whom his heart was fired, 
 
 Love will find out the way. 
 
176 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 SECOND PART. 
 
 The Gordian knot, 
 
 Which true lovers knit, 
 Undo it vou cannot, 
 
 Nor yet break it; 
 Make use of your inventions, 
 
 Their fancies to betray. 
 To frustrate their intentions, 
 
 Love will find out the way. 
 
 From court to the cottage, 
 
 In bower and in hall. 
 From the king unto the beggar 
 
 Love conquers all. 
 Though ne'er so stout and lordly, - 
 
 Strive or do what you may. 
 Yet be you ne'er so hardy. 
 
 Love will find out the way. 
 
 Love hath power over princes, 
 
 And greatest emperors, 
 In any provinces. 
 
 Such is Love's power, 
 There is no resisting, 
 
 But him to obey ; 
 In spite of all contesting. 
 
 Love will find out the way. 
 
 If that he were hidden, 
 
 And all men that are. 
 Were strictly forbidden 
 
 That place to declare ; 
 Winds that have no abidings, 
 
 Pitying their 'delay, 
 Would come and bring him tidings, 
 
 And direct him the way. 
 
SADDLE TO KAGS. 177 
 
 If the earth should part him, 
 
 He would gallop it o'er; 
 If the seas should o'erthwart him, 
 
 He would swim to the shore. 
 Should his love become a swallow, 
 
 Through the air to stray, 
 Love will lend wings to follow, 
 
 And will find out the way. 
 
 There is no striving 
 
 To cross his intent. 
 There is no contriving 
 
 His plots to jjrevent ; 
 But if once the message greet him. 
 
 That his true love doth stay, 
 If death should come and meet him, 
 
 Love will find out the way. 
 
 SADDLE TO RAGS. 
 
 [Feinted for the first time in the collection of Ancient 
 Poems, Sfc, published by the Percy Society. *No baUad,' 
 says Mr. Dixon, * is better known in the dales of Yorkshire 
 than Saddle to Rags. It has long enjoyed an extensive 
 popularity. The copy here given was taken down from the 
 singing of a * genuine Yorkshire yeoman.' The plot is com- 
 mon in different forms to other baUads, but they are all in- 
 ferior to this version.] 
 
 HTHIS story I'm going to sing, 
 -■- I hope it will give you content. 
 Concerning a silly old man 
 
 That was going to pay his rent. 
 
 With a till da dill, till a dill, dill, 
 
 Till a dill, dill a dill, dee, 
 Sing fal de dill, dill de dill, dill, 
 Fal de dill, dill de dill, dee. 
 
 EARLY BALLADS. 12 
 
178 EAKLY BALLADS. 
 
 As he was a-riding along, 
 
 Along all on the highway, 
 A gentleman- thief overtook him, 
 
 And thus unto him did say : 
 
 ■ O, well overtaken old man, 
 O, well overtaken,' said he. 
 
 * Thank you kindly, sir,' says the old man, 
 
 * If you be for my companie.' 
 
 'How far are you going this way]' 
 It made the old man to smile; 
 
 ' To tell you the truth, kind sir, 
 I'm just a going twa mile. 
 
 * I am but a silly old man. 
 
 Who farms a piece of ground ; 
 My half year rent, kind sir, 
 Just comes to forty pound. 
 
 ' But my landlord's not been at hame, — 
 I've not seen him twelve month or more; 
 
 It makes my rent to be large, 
 I've just to pay him fourscore.' 
 
 * You should not have told any body. 
 
 For thieves there are ganging many : 
 If they were to light upon you 
 
 They would rob you of every penny.' 
 
 * ! never mind,' says the old man, 
 
 ' Thieves I fear on no side ; 
 My money is safe in my bags. 
 In the saddle on which I ride.' 
 
 As they were a-riding along, 
 
 And riding a-down a ghyll, 
 The thief pulled out a pistol. 
 
 And bade the old man stand still. 
 
SADDLE TO RAGS. 179 
 
 The old man was crafty and false, 
 
 As in this world are many ; 
 He flung his old saddle o'er t' hedge, 
 
 And said, ' Fetch it, if thou'lt have any.' 
 
 This thief got off his horse, 
 
 With courage stout and bold, 
 To search this old man s bags, 
 
 And gave him his horse to hold. 
 
 The old man put foot in stirrup, 
 
 And he got on astride. 
 He set the thief s horse in a gallop, — 
 
 You need not bid th' old man ride ! 
 
 ' O, stay ! 0, stay ! ' says the thief, 
 
 * And thou half my share shalt have;' 
 
 ' Nay, marry, not I,' quoth the old man, 
 ' For once I've bitten a knave !' 
 
 This thief he was not content, 
 
 He thought there must be bags, 
 So he up with his rusty sword. 
 
 And chopped the old saddle to rags. 
 
 The old man galloped and rode. 
 
 Until he was almost spent. 
 Till he came to his landlord's house, 
 
 And he paid him his whole year's rent. 
 
 He opened this rogue's portmantle, 
 
 It was glorious for to behold ; 
 There was ^yq hundred pound in money, 
 
 And other five hundred in gold. 
 
 His landlord it made him to stare, 
 
 When he did the sight behold; 
 * Where did thou get the white money, 
 
 And where get the yellow goldf 
 
 12 — z 
 
180 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 * I met a fond fool by the way, 
 
 I swapped horses, and gave him no boot ; 
 But never mind,' says the old man, 
 * I got a fond fool by the foot.' 
 
 ' But now you're grown cramped and old, 
 Nor fit for to travel about:' 
 
 * O, never mind,' says the old man, 
 
 ' I can give these old bones a root !' 
 
 As he was a-riding hame, 
 
 And a-down a narrow lane, 
 He spied his mare tied to a tree, 
 
 And said, ' Tib, thou'lt now gae hame.' 
 
 And when that he got hame. 
 
 And told his old wife what he'd done ; 
 
 She rose and she donned her clothes, 
 And about the house did run. 
 
 She sung, and she danced, and sung. 
 And she sung with a merry devotion, 
 
 * If ever our daughter gets wed, 
 
 It will help to enlarge her portion !' 
 
 THE OLD AND YOUNG COURTIER. 
 
 [This most capital picture of contrasted manners was evi- 
 dently written in the time of James I. The previous age of 
 Elizabeth is compared with that of her successor, wheu the 
 wealth, formerly expended in the maintenance of country hos- 
 pitalities, came to be squandered upon town pleasures and 
 new-fano^led fashions. The allusion to the 'new titles of 
 honor' probably refer to the creation of the order of baronets 
 by James I. in 1611. This ballad was printed by Percy from 
 a black-letter copy in the Pepys' collection, collated with 
 another of the date of 1660.] 
 
THE OLD AND YOUNG COURTIER. 181 
 
 i N old song made by an aged old pate, [estate, 
 
 ^^ Of an old worshipful gentleman, who had a great 
 That kept a brave old house at a bountiful rate. 
 And an old porter to relieve the poor at his gate ; 
 Like an old courtier of the queen's, 
 And the queen's old courtier. 
 
 With an old lady, whose anger one word assuages. 
 They every quarter paid their old servants their wages, 
 And never knew what belonged to coachmen, footmen, 
 
 nor pages, 
 But kept twenty old fellows with blue coats and badges ; 
 Like an old courtier, &c. 
 
 With an old study filled with learned old books. 
 With an old reverend chaplain, you might know him 
 
 by his looks ; 
 With an old buttery hatch worn quite off the hooks. 
 And an old kitchen that maintained half a dozen old 
 Like an old courtier, &c. [cooks; 
 
 With an old hall, hung about with pikes, guns, and bows. 
 With old swords and bucklers, that had borne many 
 
 shrewd blows, 
 And an old frieze coat to cover his worship's trunk hose, 
 And a cup of old sherry to comfort his copper nose; 
 Like an old courtier, &c. 
 
 With a good old fashion, when Christmas was come. 
 To call in all his old neighbours with bagpipe and 
 
 drum. 
 With good cheer enough to furnish every old room. 
 And old liquor enough to make a cat speak, and a man 
 Like an old courtier, &c. [dumb ; 
 
 With an old falconer, huntsman, and a kennel full of 
 
 hounds. 
 That never hawked nor hunted but on his own grounds. 
 
182 EAKLY BALLADS. 
 
 Who, like a wise man, kept himself within his own 
 
 bounds, 
 And when he died gave every child a thousand good 
 Like an old courtier, &c. [pounds; 
 
 But to his eldest son his house and lands he assigned, 
 Charging him in his will to keep the bountiful old mind, 
 To be good to his old tenants, and to his neighbours 
 to be kind ; [inclined ; 
 
 But in the ensuing ditty you shall hear how he was 
 Like a young courtier of the king's, 
 And the king's young courtier. 
 
 Like a flourishing young gallant, newly come to his land. 
 Who keeps a brace of painted madams at his command, 
 And takes up a thousand pound upon his father's land, 
 And gets drunk in a tavern, till he can neither go nor 
 Like a young courtier, &c. [stand; 
 
 With a new-fangled lady, that is dainty, nice, and spare, 
 Who never knew what belonged to good housekeeping, 
 
 or care, 
 Who buys gaudy-coloured fans to play with wanton air, 
 And seven or eight different dressings of other women's 
 Like a young courtier, &c. [hair ; 
 
 With a new-fashioned hall, built where the old one 
 
 stood, 
 Hung round with new pictures that do the poor no good. 
 With a fine marble chimney wherein burns neither coal 
 
 nor wood, [ne'er stood ; 
 
 And a new smooth shovel board whereon no victuals 
 Like a young courtier, &c. 
 
 With a new study, stuffed full of pamphlets and plays, 
 And a new chaplain that swears faster than he prays. 
 With a new buttery-hatch that opens once in four or 
 
 five days. 
 And a new French cook to devise kickshaws and toys; 
 Like a young courtier, &c. 
 
THE BONNY HIND SQUIRE. 183 
 
 With a new fashion, when Christmas is drawing on, 
 On a new journey to London straight we all must be 
 
 gone, [John, 
 
 And leave none to keep house, but our new porter, 
 Who relieves the poor with a thump on the back with 
 
 a stone ; 
 
 Like a young courtier, (fee. 
 
 With a new gentleman-usher whose carriage is 
 
 complete. 
 With a new coachman, footmen, and pages to carry up 
 
 the meat, [neat, 
 
 With a waiting-gentlewoman whose dressing is very 
 Who, when her lady has dined, lets the servants not eat; 
 Like a young courtier, (fee. 
 
 With new titles of honour bought with his father's old 
 
 gold. 
 For which sundry of his ancestors' old manors are sold ; 
 And this is the course most of our new gallants hold. 
 Which makes that good housekeeping is now grown so 
 cold 
 
 Among the young courtiers of the king, 
 Or the king's young courtiers. 
 
 THE BONNY HIND SQUIRE. 
 
 [The only place in which we have met with this ballad is 
 Mr. Dixon's collection, where it is inserted as a fragment. 
 The story is obscure, but the manner is quaint and poetical.] 
 
 /^NCE there was a bonny hind squire 
 ^ Appeared in a ladye's ha' ; 
 And aye she walked up and doun, 
 Lookin' o'er her castle wa'. 
 
184 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 * What is your wills wi' me, kind sir ? 
 
 What is your wills wi' mef 
 ' My wills are sma' wi' thee, ladye, 
 My wills are sma' wi' thee; 
 
 * For here I stan' a courtier, 
 
 And a courtier come to thee, 
 For if ye will not grant me your luve. 
 For thy sake I will dee.' 
 
 ' If you dee for my sake,' she says, 
 ^Few for you will make mane; 
 
 Many better s died for my sake, 
 Their graves are growin' green. 
 
 ' You appear to be some fause young man. 
 You wear your hat so wide ; 
 
 You appear to be some fause young man. 
 You wear your boots so side. 
 
 * An askin', askin', sir,' she said, 
 
 * An askin' ye'll gi^ant me ;' 
 
 ' Ask on, ask on, ladye,' he said, 
 
 * What may your askin' be]* 
 
 * What's the first thing in flower,' she said, 
 
 * That springs in muir or dale 1 
 What's the neist bird that sings,' she says, 
 
 * Unto the nightingale ? 
 
 Or what is the finest thing,' she says, 
 
 * That king or queen can wile V 
 
 * The primrose is the first in flower, 
 
 That springs in muir or dale ; 
 The thristle-throat is the neist that sings 
 
 Unto the nightingale. 
 And yellow gowd is the finest tiling 
 
 That king or queen can wile. 
 
THE BONNY HIND SQUIRE. 185 
 
 ^ You have asked many questions, ladye, 
 
 I've you as many told ; 
 But how many pennies roun' 
 
 Mak' a hundred pound i' gold ? 
 
 * How many sma' fishes 
 
 Do swim the salt seas roun'? 
 Or what's the seemliest sight you'll see 
 Into a May mornin']' 
 
 * * * -vC- * 
 
 * There's ale into the birken's cale, 
 
 Wine in the horn green ; 
 There's gowd in the king's banner 
 When he is fightin' keen.' 
 
 ' You may be my match, kind sir,' she said, 
 ' You may be my match and more ; 
 
 There ne'er was ane came such a length 
 Wi' my father's heir before. 
 
 ' My father's lord o' nine castles, 
 Nae body heir but me.' 
 
 * Your father's lord o' nine castles, 
 
 Your mother's ladye o' three, 
 
 * Your father's heir o' nine castles, 
 
 An' ye are heir to three; 
 For I am William, thy ae brither, 
 That died ayont the sea.' 
 
 ' If ye be William, my ae brither, 
 
 This nicht O weel is me ; 
 If ye be William, my ae brither, 
 
 This nicht I'll gae wi' thee.' 
 
 'For no, for no. Jolly* Janet,' he says, 
 
 For no, that canna be ; 
 Ye've o'er foul feet, and ill washen hands 
 
 To be in my companie. 
 
 * Jolie.—FT. 
 
186 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 ^ For the wee wee worms are my bed fellows, 
 And the clay-cauld is my sheet ; 
 
 And the hicher that the wins do blaw 
 The souner I do sleip. 
 
 ' Leave aff your pride, Jolly Janet,' he says, 
 
 ' Use it not any more ; 
 Or when ye come where I hae been 
 
 Ye will repent it sore. 
 
 * When ye gae in at yon church door, 
 
 The red gowd on your hair; 
 Mair will look at your yallow locks 
 Than look on the Lord's Prayer. 
 
 * When ye gae in at yon church door, 
 
 The red gowd on your croun ; 
 When ye come where I hae been 
 Ye'll wear it laigher doun.' 
 
 The bonny hind squire he went away, 
 
 In the twinklin' o' an eye, 
 An' the ladye left sorrowfu' behin', 
 
 Wi' mony a bitter cry. 
 
 THE MEKMAID. 
 
 [Feom Mr. Finlay's collection of ScottisJi Ballads, published 
 in 1808. *This beautiful piece of poetry,' says the editor, 
 * was recovered from the recitation of a lady, who heard it 
 sung by the servants in her father's family, above fifty years 
 ago.' It is believed, notwithstanding some modern expres- 
 sions, to be very ancient, and was formerly popular on the 
 Carrick coast of Ayrshire. There is another ballad of the 
 same name, but very different in character, written by Dr. 
 Leyden, and published by Sir Walter Scott in the Minstrelsy 
 of the Scottish Border. "] 
 
THE MERMAID. 187 
 
 T^O yon fause stream that, near the sea, 
 Hides mony an elf and plum,* 
 And rives wi' fearful din the stanes, 
 A witless knicht did come. 
 
 The day shines clear — far in he's gane 
 
 Whar shells are silver bright, 
 Fishes war loupin' a' aroun', 
 
 And sparklin' to the light. 
 
 Whan, as he laved, sounds cam sae sweet 
 
 Frae ilka rock an' tree; 
 The brieft was out, 'twas him it doomed 
 
 The mermaid's face to see. 
 
 Frae 'neath a rock, sune, sune she rose, 
 
 And stately on she swam. 
 Stopped i' the midst, and becked and sang 
 
 To him to stretch his han'. 
 
 Gowden glist the yellow links 
 
 That round her neck she'd twine; 
 
 Her een war o' the skyie blue. 
 Her lips did mock the wine ; 
 
 The smile upon her bonnie cheek 
 
 Was sweeter than the bee ; 
 Her voice excelled the birdie's sang 
 
 Upon the birchen tree. 
 
 Sae couthie, couthie did she look, 
 And meikle had she fleechedjj. 
 
 Out shot his hand — alas! alas! 
 
 Fast in the swirl he screeched. 
 
 * Mr. Finlay alters this line, which, he says, he does not understand, 
 to— 
 
 * Hides many a shelve and plum.' 
 
 But in a stream where kelpies are introduced it does not seem to pre- 
 sent any difficulty. Plum is a deep hole in a river. 
 
 t This word cannot, of course, be taken here in its literal sense — a 
 writing. It means that the sentence, or doom, had gone forth. 
 
 t Flattered. 
 
188 EAKLY BALLADS. 
 
 The mermaid leuch, her brief was gane, 
 And kelpie's blast was blawin', 
 
 Fu' low she duked, ne'er raise again, 
 For deep, deep was the fawin'. 
 
 Aboon the stream his wraith was seen, 
 Warlochs tirled lang at gloamin'; 
 
 That e'en was coarse, the blast blew hoarse, 
 Ere lang the waves war foamin.' 
 
 THE WEE WEE MAN. 
 
 [This wild rhyme was first published in Herd's collection. 
 It was reprinted by Ritson and Finlay, and is probably one 
 of the most ancient of the Scottish legends. There is a Nor- 
 thumbrian poem on the same subject amongst the Cotton 
 MSS. in the British Museum, entitled Als y yod on ay 
 Mounday, ascribed to the time of Edward I. or II. by Ritson, 
 who supposes it to be the original of this singular fragment. 
 It is much longer, and more complete in structure, but wholly 
 inferior in poetical interest.] 
 
 4 S I was walking all alane 
 -^ Between a water and a wa', 
 And there I spied a wee wee man, 
 
 And he was the least that e'er I saw. 
 
 His legs were scarce a shathmont's* length. 
 And thick and thimber was his thigh; 
 
 Between his brows there was a span. 
 
 And between his shoulders there was three. 
 
 * Various etymologies have been proposed for this word. It has 
 been explained a measure of six inches in length, or the fist with the 
 thumb turned up. ' It appears to me,' observes Mr. Finlay, * to be a 
 relic of the Celtic language in the Lowlands, and still to exist, in a 
 varied form, in one of its dialects ; the Bretonne, scalfy at least, is thus 
 explained by Pelletier : — * Separation de tout ce qui se devise en forme 
 de fourche. Scalf au dom, separation du pouce d'avec les autres 
 doights, mot a mot, separation de la main.' 
 
THE WEE WEE MAN.-^THE JEW'S DAUGHTER. 189 
 
 He took up a meikle stane, 
 
 And he flang 't as far as I could see ; 
 Though I had been a Wallace wight, 
 
 I couldna liften 't to my knee. 
 
 ' O, wee wee man, but thou art strong ! 
 
 tell me where thy dwelling beT 
 ' My dwelling's down by yon bonny bower, 
 
 will you go with me and see?' 
 
 On we lap, and awa' we rade. 
 
 Till we came to yon bonny green; 
 
 We lighted down to bait our horse. 
 And out there came a lady fine. 
 
 Four-and-twenty at her back. 
 
 And they were a' clad out in green; 
 
 Though the King of Scotland had been there, 
 The warst o' them might hae been his queen. 
 
 On we lap, and awa' we rade, 
 
 Till we came to yon bonny ha'. 
 Where the roof was o' the beaten gould. 
 
 And the floor was o' the crystal a'. 
 
 When we came to the stair foot, 
 
 Ladies were dancing jimp'"' and sma' ; 
 
 But in the twinkling of an ee, 
 
 My wee wee man was clean awa'. 
 
 THE JEWS DAUGHTER. 
 
 [In the middle ages, many stories similar to that related in 
 the following ballad were circulated against the Jews, who 
 were, in consequence, exposed to heavy fines and persecutions. 
 
 * Conveying the same meaning as jim, or jimmy — neat, slender, 
 elegant. 
 
190 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 The Prioress's Tale in Chaucer is founded upon one of 
 these old legends. The ballad probably refers to the murder 
 of a child at Lincoln in 1256, for which some Jews were tried 
 and executed, and their goods confiscated. The details of the 
 case are collected in Michel's Ungues de Lincoln , published 
 in Paris in 1834. Mr. King suggests that the Mirry land 
 toune of the ballad is probably a corruption of merry Lincoln. 
 Percy conjectures that the story is built on an Italian legend; 
 that Mirry land toune is a corruption of Milan town, and that 
 Pa is the river Po, although the introduction of the Po in 
 connection with Milan involves a geographical blunder. There 
 is a tradition of the same kind on the Rhine.] 
 
 ^HE rain rins down through Mirry land toune, 
 J" Sae does it down the Pa ; 
 Sae does the lads of Mirry land toune 
 When they play at the ba. 
 
 Then out and came the Jew's daughter 
 Said, ' Will ye come in and dine]' 
 
 ' I winna come in, I canna come in 
 Without my play-feres nine.' 
 
 She pulled an apple red and white, 
 
 To entice the young thing in ; 
 She pulled an apple white and red 
 
 And that the sweet bairn did win. 
 
 And she has ta'en out a little penknife 
 
 Hanging low down by her gair,* 
 She has twined the young thing of his life, 
 
 A word he never spake mair. 
 
 And out and came the thick thick bluid. 
 
 And out and came the thin; 
 And out and came the bonny heart's bluid — 
 
 There was nae life left in. 
 
 * See ante, p. 17a. 
 
THE Jew's daughter.^^^'^"'"^^91 
 
 She laid him on a dressing board 
 
 And drest him like a swine — 
 And laughing said, ^ Gae now and play 
 
 With your sweet play-feres nine.' 
 
 She rowed him in a cake of lead, 
 
 Bade him lie still and sleep — 
 She cast him in a deep draw-well 
 
 Was fifty fathom deep. 
 
 When bells were rung, and mass was sung 
 
 And every lady went hame ; 
 Then ilka lady had her young son, 
 
 But Lady Helen had nane. 
 
 She rowed her mantell her about, 
 
 And sair, sair, 'gan she weep — 
 And she ran into the Jew's castell, 
 
 When they were all asleep. 
 
 * My bonny Sir Hugh — my pretty Sir Hugh— 
 
 I pray thee to me speak' — 
 ^ Oh lady run to the deep draw-well 
 
 Gin ye your son wad seek.' 
 
 Lady Helen ran to the deep draw-well, 
 
 And knelt upon her kne : 
 ' My bonny Sir Hugh, an ye be here, 
 
 I pray thee speak to me.' 
 
 ' The lead is wondrous heavy, mither, 
 
 The well is wondrous deep — 
 A keen penknife sticks in my heart, . 
 
 A word I downa speak. 
 
 ^ Gae hame, gae hame, my mither dear, 
 
 Fetch me my winding sheet. 
 And at the back of Mirry land toune 
 
 It's there we twa shall meet.' 
 
192 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 THE LAMENT OF THE BORDER WIDOW. 
 
 [* This fragment/ says Sir Walter Scott, * obtained from 
 recitation in the Forest of Ettrick, is said to relate to the 
 execution of Cockburne of Henderland, a Border freebooter, 
 hanged over the gate of his own tower, by James V., in the 
 course of that memorable expedition in T529, which was fatal 
 to Johnnie Armstrong, Adam Scott of Tushielaw, and manj^ 
 other marauders.' Cockburne, says tradition, was surprised 
 by the king while he was sitting at dinner. Some vestiges of 
 the castle of Henderland still remain at the mouth of the river 
 Meggat, which falls into the lake of St. Mary in Selkirkshire. 
 A mountain torrent rushes impetuously through a rocky 
 chasm, called the Dow-glen, and passes near the site of the 
 tower. The wife of Cockburne is said to have fled to the 
 recesses of the glen during the execution of her husband, 
 hoping to drown the cries of the soldiery in the roar of the 
 cataract. The solitary spot is still called the Lady's Seat. 
 A large stone, broken in three parts, marks the place whera 
 both husband and wife were buried, in the old grave-yard of 
 the chapel. The following inscription is visible on its surface : 
 * Here lyes Perys of Cokburne and his wyfe Marjory.'] 
 
 MY love he built me a bonny bower, 
 And clad it a' wi' a lilye flower, 
 A brawer bower ye ne'er did see, 
 Than my true love he built for me. 
 
 There came a man, by middle day. 
 He spied his sport and went away, 
 And brought the king that very night. 
 Who brake my bower, and slew my knight. 
 
 He slew my knight, to me sae dear ; 
 He slew my knight, and poined* his gear; 
 My servants all for life did flee, 
 And left me in extremitie. 
 
 * Impounded. 
 
THE SANG OF THE OUTLAW MURKAY. 193 
 
 I sewed his sheet, making my mane ; 
 I watched the corpse, myself alane ; 
 I watched his body, night and day; 
 No living creature came that way. 
 
 I took his body on my back, 
 And whiles I gaed, and whiles I sat; 
 I digged a grave, and laid him in, 
 And happed him with the sod so green. 
 
 But think na ye my heart was sair, 
 When I laid the moul' on his yellow hair; 
 Think na ye my heart was wae. 
 When I turned about, away to gae? 
 
 Nae living man I'll love again, 
 Since that my lovely knight is slain; 
 Wr ae lock of his yellow hair 
 I'll chain my heart for evermair. 
 
 THE SANG OF THE OUTLAW MURRAY. 
 
 [AccoEDiNG to local tradition, the scene of this ballad was 
 the castle of Newark upon Yarrow, where Murray is said to 
 have been killed by Buccleuch, or one of his clan, on a little 
 mount, covered with fir-trees, in his own garden. The mount 
 is still called the * slain man's lee ;' and human bones have 
 been dug up there within the present century. Sir Walter 
 Scott thinks this tradition improbable, as Newark was always 
 a royal fortress. There is another version of the story, which 
 removes the spot to a place beneath the castle, where Murray 
 was standing when the fatal arrow was shot by Scott of 
 Hainmg, from the ruins of a cottage on the opposite side of 
 the river. A still more likely locality than either of these 
 was the old tower of Hangingshaw, the seat of the Philip- 
 haugh family, now demolished, which stood in a secluded 
 situation on another part of the river, where a friend of Sir 
 
 EARLY BALLADS. 13 
 
194 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 Walter Scott's remembered having seen the insignia of the 
 unicorns, mentioned in the ballad. *When the mountains 
 round Hangingshaw,' says Sir Walter, * were covered with 
 the wild copse which constituted a Scottish forest, a more 
 secure stronghold for an outlawed baron can scarcely be ima- 
 gined.' The ballad is supposed to have been written some 
 time in the reign of James V. It commemorates one of the 
 many feuds which arose between the Crown and the holders 
 of land in the royal demesne of the Forest of Ettrick, who 
 frequently refused allegiance to the sovereign, and maintained 
 their occupancy by force.] 
 
 l^TTEICKE FOEESTE is a feir foreste, 
 -^ In it grows manie a semelie trie ; 
 There's hart and hynd, and dae and rae, 
 And of a' wilde bestis grete plentie. 
 
 There's a feir castelle, bigged wi' lyme and stane; 
 
 O ! gin it stands not pleasauntlie ! 
 In the fore front o' that castelle feir, 
 
 Twa nnicorns are bra' to see; 
 There's the picture of a knight, and a ladye bright, 
 
 And the grene hollin abune their brie.* 
 
 There an outlaw kepis five hundred men ; 
 
 He keepis a royalle cumpanie ! 
 His merryemen are a' in ae liverye clad, 
 
 O' the Lincome grene sae gaye to see ; 
 He and his ladye in purple clad, 
 
 ! gin they lived not royallie ! 
 
 Word is gane to our nobil king. 
 
 In Edinburgh where that he lay. 
 That there was an outlaw in Ettricke Foreste, 
 
 Counted him nought, nor a' his courtrie gay. 
 
 » Brow. 
 
THE SANG OF THE OUTLAW MURRAY. 195 
 
 ' I make a vowe/ then the gude king said, 
 ' Unto the man that deir bought me, 
 
 I'se either be king of Ettricke Foreste, 
 Or king of Scotlande that outlaw sail be !' 
 
 Then spake the lord hight Hamilton, 
 
 And to the nobil king said he, 
 ' My sovereign prince, sum counsell take, 
 
 First at your nobilis, syne at me. 
 
 ^ I redd ye, send yon braw outlaw till, 
 And see gif your man cum will he : 
 
 Desyre him cum and be your man, 
 And hald of you yon Foreste frie. 
 
 * Gif he refuses to do that, 
 
 We'll conquess baith his landis and he 1 
 Or else, we'll throw his castell down. 
 
 And make a widowe o' his gaye ladye.' 
 
 The king then called a gentleman, [he ;*) 
 
 James Boyd (the Earle of Arran his brother was 
 
 When James he cam before the king. 
 He knelit before him on his kne. 
 
 ' Wellcum, James Boyd !' said our nobil king, 
 ' A message ye maun gang for me ; 
 
 Ye maun hye to Ettricke Foreste, 
 To yon outlaw, where bydeth he : 
 
 ♦ Thomas Boyd, Earl of Arran, was forfeited, with his father and 
 uncle, in 1469, for an attempt on the person of James III. He had a 
 son, James, who was restored, and in favour with James IV. about 
 148Z. If this be the person here meant, we should read — 
 
 • The Earl of Arran his son was he.' 
 Glenriddel's copy reads — 
 
 * A Highland laird I'm sure was he.' 
 Reciters sometimes call the messenger the Laird of Skene. — S. 
 
 13—* 
 
196 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 * Ask him of whom he haldis his landis, 
 
 Or man, wha may his master be, 
 
 And desyre him cnm, and he my man 
 
 And hald of me yon Foreste frie. 
 
 ' To Edinburgh to cum and gang, 
 
 His safe warrant I shall gie; 
 And gif he refuses to do that, 
 
 We'll conquess baith his landis and he. 
 
 * Thou mayst vow I'll cast his castell down, 
 
 And mak a widowe o' his gaye ladye; 
 I'll hang his merryemen, payr by payr, 
 In ony frith where I may them see.' 
 
 James Boyd tuik his leave o' the nobil king, 
 To Ettricke Foreste feir cam he ; 
 
 Down Birkendale Brae when that he cam, 
 He saw the feir Foreste wi' his ee.* 
 
 Baith dae and rae, and harte and hynde, 
 And of a' wilde bestis great plentie; 
 
 He heard the blows that bauldly ring. 
 And arrows whidderan' hym near bi. 
 
 Of that feir castell he got a sight ; 
 
 The like he neir saw wi' his ee ! 
 On the fore front o' that castell feir, 
 
 Twa unicorns were gaye to see ; 
 The picture of a knight, and ladye bright, 
 
 And the grene hoUin abune their brie. 
 
 Thereat he spyed ^yq hundred men, 
 Shuting with bows on I^ewark Lee ; 
 
 They were a' in ae livery clad, 
 
 O' the Lincome grene sae gaye to see. 
 
 * Birkendale Brae, now commonly called BirkendaiUy^ is a steep 
 descent on the south side of Minch-moor, which sepai'ates Tweeddale 
 from Ettrick Forest; and from the top of which we have the first view 
 of the woods of Hangingshaw, the Castle of Newark, and the romantic 
 dale of Yarrow. — S. 
 
THE SANG OF THE OUTLAW MURRAY. 197 
 
 His meA were a' clad in the grene, 
 
 The knight was armed capapie, 
 With a bended bow, on a milk-white steed ; 
 
 And I wot they ranked right bonnilie. 
 
 Thereby Boyd kend he was master man, 
 And served him in his ain degre. 
 
 * God mot thee save, brave outlaw Murray ! 
 
 Thy ladye, and all thy chyvalrie T 
 ' Marry, thou's wellcum, gentleman, 
 
 Some king's messenger thou seemis to be.' 
 
 ' The king of Scotlonde sent me here, 
 And, gude outlaw, I am sent to thee ; 
 
 I wad wot of whom ye hald your landis, 
 Or man, wha may thy master be f 
 
 ' Thir landis are mine !' the outlaw said ; 
 
 ' 1 ken na king in Ohristentie ; 
 Frae Soudron I this Foreste wan, 
 
 When the king nor his knightis were not to see.' 
 
 ' He desyres you'l cum to Edinburgh, 
 And hauld of him this Foreste f re ; 
 
 And, gif ye refuse to do this, 
 
 He'll conquess baith thy landis and thee. 
 
 He hath vowed to cast thy castell down, 
 And mak a widowe o' thy gaye ladye ; 
 
 ' He'll hang thy merryemen, payr by payr. 
 In ony frith where he may them finde.' 
 
 'Ay, by my troth!' the outlaw said, 
 ' Than waulde I thinke me far behinde. 
 
 * Ere the king my feir countrie get, 
 
 This land that's nativest to me ! 
 Mony o' his nobilis sail be cauld. 
 Their ladyes sail be right wearie.' 
 
198 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 Then spak his ladye, feir of lace, * 
 She seyd, ' Without consent of me, 
 
 That an outlaw suld come befor a kinff : 
 I am right rad'^ of treasonrie. 
 
 Bid him be gude to his lordis at hame, 
 For Edinburgh my lord sail nevir see.' 
 
 James Boyd tuik his leave o' the outlaw kene, 
 
 To Edinburgh boun is he; 
 When James he cam before the king, 
 
 He knelit lowlie on his kne. 
 
 * Wellcum, James Boyd !' seyd our nobil king ; 
 
 *What foreste is Ettricke Foreste frief 
 
 * Ettricke Foreste is the feirest foreste 
 
 That evir man saw wi' his ee. 
 
 ' There's the dsee, the rae, the hart, the hynde, 
 And of a' wild bestis grete plentie ; 
 
 There's a pretty castell of lyme and stane, 
 O ! gif it standis not pleasauntlie ! 
 
 * There's in the fore front o' that castell, 
 
 Twa unicorns, sae bra' to see ; 
 There's the picture of a knight, and a ladye bright, 
 Wi' the grene hollin abune their brie. 
 
 * There the outlaw keepis five hundred men, 
 
 He keepis a royalle cumpanie ! 
 His merryemen in ae livery clad, 
 
 O' the Lincome grene sae gaye to see : 
 He and his ladye in purple clad; 
 
 ! gin they live not royallie ! 
 
 ' He says, yon Foreste is his awin ; 
 
 He wan it frae the Southronie ; 
 Sae as he wan it, sae will he keep it, 
 
 Contrair all kingis in Christentie.' 
 
 * Afraid. 
 
THE SANG OF THE OUTLAW MURRAY. 199 
 
 * Gar warn me Perthshire, and Angus baith ; 
 
 Fife np and downe, and Louthians three, 
 And graith my horse !' said our nobil king, 
 ^ For to Ettricke Foreste hie will I me.' 
 
 Then word is gane the outlaw till, 
 
 In Ettricke Foreste, where dwelleth he, 
 
 That the king was cuming to his cuntrie, 
 To conquess baith his landis and he. 
 
 ' I mak a vow,' the outlaw said, 
 
 * I mak a vow, and that trulie, 
 Were there but three men to tak my pairt, 
 
 Yon king's cuming full deir suld be !' 
 
 Then messengers he called forth. 
 
 And bade them hie them speedilye — 
 
 * Ane of ye gae to Halliday, 
 
 The Laird of the Corehead is he. 
 
 ' He certain is my sister's son ; 
 
 Bid him cum quick and succour me ! 
 The king cums on for Ettricke Foreste, 
 
 And landless men we a' will be.' 
 
 ^What news^ What news?' said Halliday, 
 
 ' Man, frae thy master unto me V 
 ' Not as ye wad ; seeking your aide ; 
 
 The king's his mortal enemie.' 
 
 ^ Ay, by my troth !' said Halliday, 
 
 ' Even for that it repenteth me ; 
 For gif he lose feir Ettricke Foreste, 
 
 He'll tak feir Moffatdale frae me. 
 
 ^ I'll meet him wi' five hundred men, 
 
 And surely mair, if mae may be ; 
 And before he gets the Foreste feir, 
 
 We a' will die on Newark Lee I 
 
200 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 The outlaw called a messenger, 
 
 And bid him hie him speedilye, 
 To Andrew Murray of Cockpool — 
 
 ^ That man's a deir cousin to me ; 
 Desyre him cum, and make me aide, 
 
 With a' the power that he may be.' 
 
 * It stands me hard,' Andrew Murray said, 
 * Judge gif it stand na hard wi' me ; 
 
 To enter against a king wi' crown. 
 And set my landis in jeopardie ! 
 
 Yet, if I cum not on the day. 
 Surely at night he sail me see.' 
 
 To Sir James Murray of Traquair, 
 A message came right speedilye — 
 
 'What news? What newsf James Murray said, 
 ' Man, frae thy master unto me V 
 
 ' What neids I tell 1 for weel ye ken 
 
 The king's his mortal enemie ; 
 And now he is cuming to Ettricke Foreste, 
 
 And landless men ye a' will be.' 
 
 'And, by my troth e,' James Murray said, 
 ' Wi' that outlaw will I live and die ; 
 
 The king has gifted my landis lang syne — 
 It cannot be nae warse wi' me.' 
 
 The King was cuming thro' Caddon Ford,''* 
 And full five thousand men was he; 
 
 They saw the derke Foreste them before. 
 They thought it awsome for to see. 
 
 Then spak the lord, hight Hamilton, 
 
 And to the nobil king said he, 
 'My sovereign liege, sum council tak. 
 
 First at your nobilis, syne at me. 
 
 * A ford on the Tweed, at the mouth of the Caddon Burn, near 
 Yair. 
 
THE SANG OP THE OUTLAW MURRAY. 201 
 
 ^ Desyre him mete thee at Permanscore, 
 
 And bring four in his cumpanie ; 
 Five erles sail gang yoursell befor, 
 
 Gude cause that you suld honoured be. 
 
 ^ And, gif he refuses to do that, 
 
 We'll conquess baith his landis and he; 
 
 There sail nevir a Murray, after him, 
 Hald land in Ettricke Foreste free.' 
 
 Then spak the kene Laird of Buckscleuth, 
 A stalworthe man, and sterne was he— 
 
 ' For a king to gang an outlaw till, 
 Is beneath his state and his dignitie. 
 
 'The man that wons yon Foreste intill. 
 
 He lives by reif and felonie ! 
 Wherefore, brayd on, my sovereign liege, 
 
 Wi' fire and sword we'll follow thee ; 
 Or, gif your courtrie lords fa' back, 
 
 Our Borderers sail the onset gie.' 
 
 Then out and spak the nobil king, 
 And round him cast a wilie ee — 
 
 * Now, haud thy tongue, Sir Walter Scott, 
 
 Nor speak of reif nor felonie : 
 For, had every honest man his awin kye, 
 A right puir clan thy name wad be ! ' . 
 
 The king then called a gentleman, 
 Koyal banner-bearer there was he; 
 
 James Hoppringle of Torsonse, by name ; 
 He cam and knelit upon his kne. 
 
 * Wellcum, James Pringle of Torsonse ! 
 
 A message ye maun gang for me : 
 Ye maun gae to yon outlaw Murray, 
 Surely where bauldly bideth he. 
 
202 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 * Bid him mete me at Permanscore, 
 
 And bring four in his cumpanie; 
 Five erles sail cum wi' my sell, 
 Gude reason I suld honoured be, 
 
 ^ And gif he refuses to do that, 
 Bid him luke for nae good o' me ! 
 
 There sail nevir a Murray, after him, 
 Hald land in Ettricke Eoreste free.' 
 
 James cam before the outlaw kene, 
 And served him in his ain degre — 
 
 ^ Wellcum, James Pringle of Torsonse I 
 What message frae the king to me 1 ' 
 
 * He bids ye meet him at Permanscore,* 
 
 And bring four in your cumpany; 
 Five erles sail gang himself befor, 
 Nae mair in number will he be. 
 
 ' And gif ye refuse to do that, 
 (I freely here upgive wi' thee,) 
 
 He'll cast yon bonny castle down. 
 
 And make a widowe o' that gay ladye. 
 
 ^ He'll loose yon bluidhound Borderers, 
 Wi' fire and sword to follow thee; 
 
 There will nevir a Murray, after thysell, 
 Hald land in Ettricke Foreste free.' 
 
 * It stands me hard,' the outlaw said ; 
 
 ^ Judge if it stands na hard wi' me, 
 Wha reck not losing of my sell, 
 But a' my offspring after me. 
 
 * My merry emen's lives, my widowe's teirs — 
 
 There lies the pang that pinches me ; 
 When I am straught in bluidie card. 
 Yon castell will be right dreirie. 
 
 * Permanscore is a very remarkable hollow on the top of a high 
 ridge of hills, dividing the vales of Tweed and Yarrow, a little to the 
 eastward ot Minch-moor. It is the outermost point of tlie lands of 
 Broadmeadows. — S 
 
THE SANG OF THE OUTLAW MURRAY. 203 
 
 ' Auld Halliday, young Halliday, 
 
 Ye sail be twa to gang wi' me; 
 Andrew Murray, and Sir James Murray 
 
 Well be nae mae in cumpanie.' — 
 
 "When that they cam before the king, 
 They fell before him on their kne — 
 
 * Grant mercie, mercie, nobil king ! 
 
 E'en for his sake that dyed on tree.' 
 
 * Sicken like mercie sail ye have ; 
 
 On gallows ye sail hangit be !' 
 ' Over God's forbode,' quoth the outlaw then, 
 
 * I hope your grace will bettir be ! 
 Else, ere you come to Edinburgh port, 
 
 I trow thin guarded sail ye be : 
 
 ' Thir landis of Ettricke Foreste fair, 
 
 I wan them from the enemie ; 
 Like as I wan them, sae will I keep them, 
 
 Contrair a' kingis in Christ entie.' 
 
 All the nobilis the king about. 
 
 Said pitie it were to see him dee — 
 
 ' Yet grant me mercie, sovereign prince, 
 Extend your favour unto me ! 
 
 ^ I'll give thee the keys of my castell, 
 Wi' the blessing o' my gay ladye. 
 
 Gin thou'lt make me sheriffe of this Eoreste, 
 And a' my offspring after me.' 
 
 ' Wilt thou give me the keys of thy castell, 
 Wi' the blessing of thy gay e ladye ? 
 
 I'se make thee sheriffe of Ettricke Foreste, 
 Surely while upward grows the tree ; 
 
 If you be not traitour to the king, 
 Forfaulted sail thou nevir be.' 
 
204 EAELY BALLADS. 
 
 ^But, Prince, what sail cum o' my men'? 
 
 When I gae back, traitour they'll ca' me. 
 I had rather lose my life and land, 
 
 Ere my merryemen rebuked me.' 
 
 * Will your merryemen amend their lives? 
 
 And a' their pardons I grant thee — 
 Now, name thy landis where'er they lie, 
 And here I render them to thee.' 
 
 ' Fair Philiphaugh is mine by right, 
 And Lewinshope still mine shall be; 
 
 Newark, Foulshiells, and Tinnies baith. 
 My bow and arrow purchased me. 
 
 * And I have native steads to me. 
 
 The Newark Lee and Hanginshaw;* 
 T have mony steads in the Foreste schaw, 
 But them by name I dinna knaw.' 
 
 The keys of the castell he gave the king, 
 
 Wi' the blessing o' his feir ladye ; 
 He was made sherifFe of Ettricke Foreste, 
 
 Surely while upward grows the tree; 
 And if he was na traitour to the king, 
 
 Forfaulted he suld never be. 
 
 Wha ever heard, in ony times. 
 
 Sicken an outlaw in his degre. 
 Sic favour get befor a king, [free? 
 
 As did tjie Outlaw Murray of the Foreste 
 
 * In this and the following verse, the ceremony of feudal investiture 
 is supposed to be gone through, by the outlaw resigning his possessions 
 into the hands of the king, and receiving them back, to be held of him 
 as superior. The lands of Philiphaugh are still possessed by the out- 
 law's representative. Hangingshaw and Lewinshope were sold of late 
 years. Newark, Foulshiels, and Tinnies have long belonged to the 
 family of Buccleuch.— S. 
 
205 
 
 BONNIE GEORGE CAMPBELL. 
 
 [This pathetic lament has been supposed to refer to the death 
 in battle of an adherent of the house of Argyle; but it is 
 more probable, from the description with which it opens, that 
 it relates to the assassination of Campbell of Calder, arising 
 out of a feud with Campbell of Ardinglas, in consequence of 
 the former having been appointed guardian to the young Earl 
 of Argyle. Ardinglas procured the services of a man to carry 
 out his vengeance. * The deed was committed with a hack- 
 but, supplied by Ardinglas; and the fatal shot was fired at 
 night, through one of the windows of the house of Knepoch 
 in Lorn, at the unsuspecting Calder, who fell, pierced through 
 the heart with three bullets/ — Gregory's Western Sigh- 
 lands.'] 
 
 TTIE 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, 
 And out cam his bonnie bride 
 
 Kivin' her hair. 
 Saddled and bridled 
 
 And booted rade he ; 
 Toom* hame cam the saddle, 
 
 But never cam he ! 
 
 * Empty. 
 
206 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 ^ My meadow lies green, 
 
 And my corn is unshorn ; 
 My barn is to big/^ 
 
 And my babies unborn.' 
 Saddled and bridled 
 
 And booted rade lie ; 
 Toom home cam the saddle, 
 
 But never cam he ! 
 
 THE CRUEL SISTER. 
 
 [The text of this ballad is taken from the Border Minstrelsy. 
 It differs essentially from other versions, and was compiled by 
 Sir Walter Scott from fragments obtained from Scotch and 
 Irish sources. The burthen of this version is the most popu- 
 lar in Scotland; but there is another burthen which is not 
 deficient in a certain lyrical wildness, peculiarly suited to the 
 strange character of the story : — 
 
 • There were twa sisters sat in a bour, 
 
 Edinborough, Edinborough ; 
 There were twa sisters sat in a bour, 
 
 Stirling for aye ; 
 There were twa sisters sat in a bour, 
 There cam a knight to be their wooer, 
 
 Bonny St. Johnston stands upon Tay.' 
 
 The burthen of the Irish version, taken down from recitation 
 by Miss Brooke, the editor of the Reliques oj Irish Poetry, 
 
 runs thus : — 
 
 * O sister, sister, reach thy hand ! 
 
 Hey ho, my Nanny, O ; 
 And you shall be heir of all my land. 
 While the swan swims bonny, O.'J 
 
 '^PHERE were two sisters sat in a bour; 
 -*- Binnorie,t O Binnorie; 
 
 There came a knight to be their wooer ; 
 By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. 
 
 » Build. t Pronounced Binnorie. 
 
THE CRUEL SISTER. 207 
 
 He courted the eldest with glove and ring, 
 
 Binnorie, O Binnorie; 
 But he lo'ed the youngest abune a' thing ; 
 By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. 
 
 He courted the eldest with broach and knife, 
 
 Binnorie, O Binnorie; 
 But he lo'ed the youngest abune his life ; 
 By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. 
 
 The eldest she was vexed sair, 
 
 Binnorie, O Binnorie; 
 And sore envied her sister fair; 
 
 By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. 
 
 The eldest said to the youngest ane, 
 
 Binnorie, O Binnorie; 
 ^ Will ye go and see our father's ship come in V 
 By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. 
 
 She's ta'en her by the lily hand, 
 Binnorie, O Binnorie; 
 And led her down to the river strand ; 
 By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. 
 
 The youngest stude upon a stane, 
 
 Binnorie, O Binnorie ; 
 The eldest came and pushed her in ; 
 
 By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. 
 
 She took her by the middle sma', 
 
 Binnorie, Binnorie; 
 And dashed her bonny back to the jaw; 
 By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. 
 
 • sister, sister, reach your hand, 
 
 Binnorie, Binnorie; 
 And ye shall be heir of half my land ;' 
 By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. 
 
208 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 * sister, I'll not reach my hand, 
 
 Binnorie, Binnorie; 
 And I'll be heir of all your land ; 
 
 By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. 
 
 ' Shame fa' the hand that I should take, 
 
 Binnorie, O Binnorie; 
 It's twined me, and my world's make.' ' 
 
 By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. 
 
 * O sister, reach me but your glove, 
 
 Binnorie, O Binnorie; 
 And sweet William shall be your love.' 
 By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. 
 
 * Sink on, nor hope for hand or glove ! 
 
 Binnorie, O Binnorie; 
 And sweet William shall better be my love ; 
 By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. 
 
 * Your cherry cheeks and your yellow hair, 
 
 Binnorie, O Binnorie; 
 Garred me gang maiden evermore.' 
 
 By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. 
 
 Sometimes she sank, and sometimes she swam, 
 
 Binnorie, Binnorie; 
 Until she cam to the miller's dam ; 
 
 By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. 
 
 ' O father, father, draw your dam ! 
 
 Binnorie, O Binnorie; 
 There's either a mermaid, or a milk-white swan;* 
 By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. 
 
 The miller hasted and drew his dam, 
 
 Binnorie, O Binnorie ; 
 And there he found a drowned woman; 
 By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. 
 
THE CRUEL SISTER. 209 
 
 You could not see her yellow liair, 
 
 Binnorie, O Binnorie; 
 For gowd aud pearls that were so rare ; 
 By the boniiy milldams of Binnorie. 
 
 You could not see her middle sma', 
 
 Binnorie, Binnorie; 
 Her gowden girdle was sae bra ; 
 
 By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. 
 
 A famous harper passing by, 
 
 Binnorie, Binnorie; 
 The sweet pale face he chanced to spy; 
 By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. 
 
 And when he looked that lady on, 
 
 Binnorie, O Binnorie; 
 He sighed and made a heavy moan; 
 
 By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. 
 
 He made a harp of her breast-bone, 
 
 Binnorie, O Binnorie; 
 Whose sounds would melt a heart of stone; 
 By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. 
 
 The strings he framed of her yellow hair, 
 
 Binnorie, O Binnorie; 
 Whose notes made sad the listening ear ; 
 By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. 
 
 He brought it to her father's hall, 
 
 Binnorie, O Binnorie; 
 And there was the court assembled all; • 
 
 By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. 
 
 He laid his harp upon a stone, 
 
 Binnorie, O Binnorie; 
 And straight it began to play alone; 
 
 By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. 
 
 EAKLY BALLADS. 14 
 
210 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 ^ yonder sits my father, the king, 
 
 Binnorie, Binnorie: 
 And yonder sits my mother, the queen ; 
 By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. 
 
 * And yonder stands my brother Hugh, 
 
 Binnorie, O Binnorie; 
 And by him my William, sweet and true.' 
 By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. 
 
 But the last tune that the harp played then, 
 
 Binnorie, O Binnorie; 
 Was ' W^oe to my sister, false Helen T 
 By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. 
 
 LORD RANDAL. 
 
 [* The hero of this ballad/ says Sir Walter Scott, ' is more 
 generally termed Lord Ronald; but I willingly follow the 
 authority of an Ettrick Forest copy for calling him Randal ; 
 because, though the circumstances are so very different, I 
 think it not impossible that the ballad may have originally 
 regarded the death of Thomas Randolph, or Randal, Earl of 
 Murray, nephew to Robert Bruce, and Governor of Scotland.' 
 The conjecture is a little strained. Thomas Randolph died at 
 Musselburgh in 1332, and the Scottish historians assert that 
 he was poisoned by the English. The hero of the ballad is 
 described to have come by his death from the hand of his 
 mistress.] 
 
 * r\ WHERE hae ye been, Lord Baiidal, my son ? 
 
 ^^ O whre heae ye been, my handsome young manf 
 ^ I hae ¥een to the wild wood ; mother^ m&e i^y b^d 
 
 v_ vsoon^ / \y^/ 
 
 For I'm we^ry wi' huriting, and fain wald ne'doun.' 
 
THE LASS OF LOCHROYAN. 211 
 
 ' Where gat ye your dinner, Lord Randal, my scm? 
 Where gat ye, your,^in^erJmv^andsor^e youngmiiiy' 
 
 * I dii(ed wi^ liiy l^iie Ip^ ; Hfother^lH^te infpm^^i^, 
 For I'm w6ary wi' hunting, and fain wald lie do^n.' 
 
 ' What gat ye to your dinner, Lord Randal, my son 1 
 What gat ye to your dinner, my handsome young man V 
 ' I gat eels boiled in broo ; mother, make my bed soon. 
 For I'm weary wi' hunting, and fain wald lie doun.' 
 
 * What became of your bloodhounds. Lord Randal, my 
 
 son? 
 What became of your bloodhounds, my handsome young 
 manf 
 
 * O they swelled and they died ; mother, make my bed 
 
 soon, 
 For I'm weary wi' hunting, and fain wald lie doun.' 
 
 * O I fear you are poisoned. Lord Randal, my son ! 
 
 O I fear you are poisoned, my handsome young man !' 
 ' O yes, I am poisoned ; mother, make my bed soon, 
 For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wald lie doun.' 
 
 THE LASS OF LOCHROYAN. 
 
 [Fragments of this ballad are known under other names, 
 the most popular of which is that entitled Love Gregory. 
 The first complete text, from which the following is taken, 
 was published by Sir Walter Scott. Lochroyan is in Gal- 
 loway. The enchanted castle of the ballad, situated on the 
 sea, is probably one of those ancient structm'es whose ruins 
 may yet be^ seen on the rocky coast of Ayrshire and Galloway.] 
 
 ^ r\ WHA will shoe my bonny foot? 
 ^ And wha will glove my hand? 
 And wha will lace my middle jimp 
 
 Wi' a lang, lang linen band? 
 
 14—* 
 
212 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 * O wha will kame my yellow hair. 
 
 With a new-made silver kame? 
 
 And wha will fiather my young son, 
 
 Till Lord Gregory come hame^' 
 
 ' Thy father will shoe thy bonny foot, 
 Thy mother will glove thy hand, 
 
 Thy sister will lace thy middle jimp, 
 Till Lord Gregory come to land. 
 
 * Thy brother will kame thy yellow hair 
 
 With a new-made silver kame, 
 
 And God will be thy bairn's father 
 
 Till Lord Gregory come hame.' 
 
 ' But I will get a bonny boat, 
 
 And I will sail the sea; 
 And I will gang to Lord Gregory, 
 
 Since he canna come hame to me.' 
 
 Syne she's gar'd build a bonny boat. 
 
 To sail the salt, salt sea ; 
 The sails were o' the light green silk, 
 
 The tows* o' taffety. 
 
 She hadna sailed but twenty leagues, 
 But twenty leagues and three. 
 
 When she met wi' a rank robber. 
 And a' his company. 
 
 ^ Now whether are ye the queen hersell, 
 (For so ye weel might be,) 
 
 Or are ye the Lass of Lochroyan, 
 Seekin' Lord Gregory?' 
 
 * I am neither the queen,' she said, 
 
 ' Nor sic I seem to be ; 
 But I am the Lass of Lochroyan, 
 Seekin' Lord Gregory.' 
 
 * Ropes. 
 
THE LASS OF LOCHROYAN. 215 
 
 ' O see na thou yon bonny bower, 
 
 It's a' covered o'er wi' tin? 
 When thou hast sailed it round about, 
 
 Lord Gregory is within.' 
 
 And when she saw the stately tower 
 
 Shining sae clear and bright, 
 Whilk stood aboon the jawing* wave, 
 
 Built on a rock of height ; 
 
 Says — ' Row the boat, my mariners, 
 
 And bring me to the land! 
 For yonder I see my love's castle 
 
 Close by the salt-sea strand.' 
 
 She sailed it round, and sailed it round. 
 And loud, loud cried she — 
 
 * Now break, now break, ye fairy charms, 
 
 And set my true love free !' 
 
 She's ta'en her young son in her arms, 
 
 And to the door she's gane : 
 And long she knocked, and sair she ca'd. 
 
 But answer got she nane. 
 
 * open the door. Lord Gregory ! 
 
 O open and let me in! 
 For the wind blows through my yellow hair. 
 And the rain draps o'er my chin.' 
 
 * Awa, awa, ye ill woman ! 
 
 Ye're no come here for good ! 
 Ye're but some witch or wil warlock, 
 Or mermaid o' the flood.' 
 
 ' I am neither witch, nor wil warlock, 
 
 Nor mermaid o' the sea; 
 But I am Annie of Lochroyan ; 
 
 O open the door to me !' 
 
 * Dashing. 
 
214 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 ' Gin thou be Annie of Lochroyan, 
 
 (As I trow thou binna she,) 
 Now tell me some o' the love tokens 
 
 That past between thee and me.' 
 
 * dinna ye mind, Lord Gregory, 
 
 As we sat at the wine. 
 We changed the rings frae our fingers. 
 And I can show thee thine? 
 
 ' yours was gude, and gude enough, 
 
 But aye the best was mine ; 
 For yours was o' the gude red gowd, 
 
 But mine o' the diamond fine. 
 
 *And has na thou mind. Lord Gregory, 
 
 As we sat on the hill, 
 Thou twined me o' my maidenheid 
 
 Bight sair against my will] 
 
 * Now, open the door, Lord Gregory ! 
 
 Open the door, I pray ! 
 For thy young son is in my arms, 
 And will be dead ere day.' 
 
 * If thou be the Lass o' Lochroyan, 
 
 (As I kenna thou be,) 
 Tell me some mair o' the love tokens 
 Past between me and thee.' 
 
 Fair Annie turned her round about — 
 
 * Weel ! since that it be sae, 
 May never a woman that has borne a son, 
 
 Hae a heart sae fou o' wae ! 
 
 * Take down, take down, that mast o' gowd ! 
 
 Set up a mast o' tree ! 
 It disna become a forsaken lady 
 To sail sae royallie.' 
 
THE LASS OF LOCHROYAN. 215 
 
 Wlien the cock had crawn, and the day did dawn. 
 
 And the sun began to peep, 
 Then up and raise him Lord Gregory, 
 
 And sair, sair did he weep. 
 
 * Oh I hae dreamed a dream, mother, 
 
 I wish it may prove true 1 
 That the bonny Lass o' Lochroyan 
 Was at the gate e'en now. 
 
 ' I hae dreamed a dream, mother. 
 
 The thought o't gars me greet ! 
 That fair Annie o' Lochroyan 
 
 Lay cauld dead at my feet.' 
 
 * Gin it be for Annie of Lochroyan 
 
 That ye make a' this din, 
 She stood a' last night at your door, 
 But I true she wad na in.' 
 
 *0 wae betide ye, ill woman! 
 
 An ill deid may ye die ! 
 That wadna open the door to her, 
 
 Nor yet wad waken me.' 
 
 O he's gane down to yon shore side 
 
 As fast as he could fare 5 
 He saw fair Annie in the boat, 
 
 But the Wind it tossed her sair. 
 
 'And hey, Annie, and how, Annie! 
 
 O Annie, winna ye bide !' 
 But aye the mair he cried Annie, 
 
 The braider grew the tide. 
 
 'And hey, Annie, and how, Annie! 
 
 Dear Annie, speak to me 1' 
 But aye the louder he cried Annie, 
 
 The louder roared the sea. 
 
216 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 The wind blew loud, the sea grew rough, 
 And dashed the boat on shore; 
 
 Fair Annie floated through the faem, 
 But the babie rose no more. 
 
 Lord Gregory tore his yellow hair, 
 
 And made a heavy moan; 
 Fair Annie's corpse lay at his feet, 
 
 Her bonny young son was gone. 
 
 O cherry, cherry was her cheek, 
 And gowden was her hair; 
 
 But clay-cold were her rosy lips — 
 Nae sjDark o' life was there. 
 
 And first he kissed her cherry cheek, 
 And syne he kissed her chin, 
 
 And syne he kissed her rosy lips — 
 There was nae breath within. 
 
 * wae betide my cruel mother ! 
 
 An ill death may she die ! 
 She turned my true love frae my door, 
 Wha came sae far to me. 
 
 * O wae betide my cruel mother ! 
 
 An ill death may she die ! 
 She turned fair Annie frae my door, 
 Wha died for love o' me.' 
 
 THE merchant's DAUGHTER OF BRISTOW. 
 
 [This ballad is taken from the Roxburghe collection in the 
 British Museum. It was certainly popular early in the 
 seventeenth century: see Fletcher's Monsieur Thomas, iii. 3, 
 where it is introduced by the Fiddler. A novel founded on 
 it was published in Bristol, where it enjoyed great celebrity, 
 and was frequently reprinted down to the end of the last 
 century.] 
 
THE merchant's DAUGHTER OF BRISTOW. 217 
 THE FIRST PART. 
 
 jDEHOLD the touchstone of true love, [town, 
 
 -L' Maudlin, the Merchant's Daughter of Bristow 
 Whose firm affection nothing could move; 
 This favour bears the lovely brown. 
 
 A gallant youth was dwelling by, [will ; 
 
 Which many years had borne this lady great good 
 She loved him so faithfully, 
 
 But all her friends withstood it still. 
 
 The young man now, perceiving well 
 
 He could not get nor win the favour of her friends, 
 The force of sorrow to expel 
 
 To view strange countries he intends. 
 
 And now, to take his last farewell 
 
 Of his true love, his lair and constant Maudlin, 
 With music sweet that did excel 
 
 He plays under her window then. 
 
 ' Farewell,' quoth he, ' mine own true love, 
 
 Farewell, my dear, and chief est treasure of my heart ! 
 
 Through fortune's spite, that false did prove, 
 I am inforced from thee to part 
 
 * Into the land of Italy : 
 
 There will I wail, and weary out my days in woe; 
 Seeing my true love is kept from me, 
 
 I hold my life a mortal foe. 
 
 ' Fair Bristow town, therefore, adieu, 
 For Padua shall be my habitation now; 
 
 Although my love doth lodge in thee, 
 To whom alone my heart I vow.' 
 
 With trickling tears this he did sing, [sore : 
 
 With sighs and sobs descending from his heart full 
 
 He said, when he his hands did wring, 
 'Farewell, sweet love, for evermore!' 
 
218 * EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 Fair Maudlin, from a window high, 
 
 Beholding her true love with music where he stood, 
 But not a word she durst reply, 
 
 Fearing her parents' angry mood. 
 
 In tears she spent this doleful night, 
 
 Wishing, though naked, with her faithful friend : 
 She blames her friends, and fortune's spite. 
 
 That wrought their loves such luckless end. 
 
 And in her heart she made a vow 
 
 Clean to forsake her country and her kinsfolk all, 
 And for to follow her true love. 
 
 To bide all chance that might befall. 
 
 The night is gone, and the day is come. 
 
 And in the morning very early she did rise : 
 
 She gets her down in a lower room, 
 Where sundry seamen she espies. 
 
 A gallant master amongst them all, 
 
 The master of a fair and goodly ship was he, 
 
 W^ho there stood waiting in the hall. 
 To speak with her father, if it might be. 
 
 She kindly takes him by the hand, 
 
 ' Good sir,' said she, 'would you speak with any heref 
 Quoth he, ' Fair maid, therefore I stand:' 
 
 ' Then, gentle sir, I pray you to draw near.' 
 
 Into a pleasant parlour by, 
 
 With hand in hand she brings the seaman all alone ; 
 Sighing to him most piteously. 
 
 She thus to him did make her moan. 
 
 She falls upon her tender knee : 
 
 * Good sir,' she said, ' now pity you a woman's woe, 
 And prove a faithful friend to me. 
 
 That I my grief to you may show.' 
 
THE merchant's DAUGHTER OF BRISTOW. 219 
 
 ' Sith yon repose your trust/ he said, 
 
 ^ To me that am unknown, and eke a stranger here, 
 Be you assured, most proper maid, 
 
 Most faithful still I will appear.' 
 
 ' I have a brother, then,' quoth she, 
 
 * Whom as my life I love and favour tenderly : 
 In Padua, alas ! is he, 
 
 Full sick, God wot, and like to die. 
 
 ' And fain I would my brother see. 
 
 But that my father will not yield to let me go ; 
 Wherefore, good sir, be good to me. 
 
 And unto me this favour show. 
 
 ' Some ship-boy's garment bring to me. 
 
 That I disguised may go away from hence unknown ; 
 And unto sea I'll go with thee, 
 
 If thus much favour may be shown.' 
 
 ^ Fair maid,' quoth he, ' take here my hand : 
 I will fulfil each thing that you desire, 
 
 And set you safe in that same land. 
 And in that place that you require.' 
 
 She gave him then a tender kiss, 
 
 ^ And faith, your servant, gallant master, will I be. 
 And prove your faithful friend for this, 
 
 Sweet master, then, forget not me.' 
 
 This done, as they had both decreed. 
 
 Soon after, early, before the break of day, 
 
 He brings her garments then with speed, 
 Wherein she doth herself array : 
 
 And ere her father did arise, 
 
 She meets her master as he walks in the hall: 
 3he did attend on him likewise. 
 
 Even till her father did him call. 
 
220 EAELY BALLADS. 
 
 But ere the merchant made an end 
 
 Of all the matters to the master he could say, 
 
 His wife came weeping in with speed, 
 Saying, * Our daughter is gone away ! ' 
 
 The merchant, thus amazed in mind, 
 
 ^Yonder vile wretch inticed away my child,' quoth he ; 
 ^ But well, I wot, I shall him find 
 
 At Padua, in Italy.' 
 
 With that bespake the master brave : 
 
 ' Worshipful master, thither goes this pretty youth, 
 And any thing that you would have. 
 
 He will perform it, and write the truth.' 
 
 * Sweet youth,' quoth he, ^ if it be so. 
 
 Bear me a letter to the English merchants there. 
 And gold on thee I will bestow : 
 
 My daughter's welfare I do fear.' 
 
 Her mother takes her by the hand ; [daughter see, 
 'Fair youth,' quoth she, *if there thou dost my 
 
 Let me thereof soon understand, 
 
 And there is twenty crowns for thee.' 
 
 Thus, through the daughter's strange disguise. 
 
 The mother knew not when she spake unto her child; 
 
 And after her master straightway she hies, 
 Taking her leave with countenance mild. 
 
 Thus to the sea fair Maudlin is gone [wind ; 
 
 With her gentle master : God send them a merry 
 Where we awhile must let them alone. 
 
 Till you the second part do find. 
 
 PART THE SECOND. 
 
 ' Welcome, sweet Maudlin, from the sea, 
 Where bitter storms and tempests do arise : 
 
 The pleasant banks of Italy 
 
 We may behold with mortal eyes.' 
 
THE merchant's DAUGHTER OF BRISTOW. 221 
 
 * Thanks, gentle master/ then quoth she : 
 
 ^ A faithful friend in sorrow hast thou been ; 
 If fortune once doth smile on me, 
 My thankful heart shall well be seen. 
 
 * Blest be the land that feeds my love ! 
 
 Blest be the place whereas his person doth abide ! 
 "No trial will I stick to prove, 
 
 Whereby my true love may be tried. 
 
 * Now will I walk with joyful heart, 
 
 To view the town whereas my darling doth remain, 
 And seek him out in every part, 
 Until I do his sight attain.' 
 
 ' And I,' quoth he, * will not forsake 
 
 Sweet Maudlin in her sorrow up and down : 
 
 In wealth and woe thy part 111 take. 
 And bring thee safe to Padua town.' 
 
 And after many weary steps 
 
 In Padua they safely do arrive at last : 
 
 For very joy her heart it leaps; 
 She thinks not of her sorrows past. 
 
 Condemned to die he was, alas ! 
 
 Except he would from his religion turn; 
 But rather than he would to mass. 
 
 In fiery flames he vowed to burn. 
 
 Kow doth Maudlin weep and wail : 
 
 Her joy is changed to weeping, sorrow, grief and care ; 
 But nothing could her plaints prevail. 
 
 For death alone must be his share. 
 
 She walks under the prison walls, [tress; 
 
 Where her true love doth lie and languish in dis- 
 Most wofully for food he calls. 
 
 When hunger did his heart oppress. 
 
222 EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 He sighs and sobs and makes great moan : [more, 
 
 ^ Farewell,' he said, ' sweet England, now for ever- 
 
 And all my friends that have me known 
 In Bristow town with, wealth and store. 
 
 * But most of all farewell,' quoth he, [behind ; 
 
 My own true love, sweet Maudlin, whom I left 
 For never more shall I see thee ; ' 
 
 Woe to thy father most unkind ! 
 
 * How well were I, if thou wert here, 
 
 With thy fair hands to close these wretched eyes ; 
 My torments easy would appear; 
 
 My soul with joy should scale the skies.' 
 
 When Maudlin heard her lover's moan, 
 
 Her eyes with tears, her heart with sorrow filled was : 
 To speak with him no means is known, 
 
 Such grievous doom on him did pass. 
 
 Then she cast off her lad's attire ; 
 
 A maiden's weed upon her back she seemly set : 
 To the judge's house she did enquire, 
 
 And there she did a service get. 
 
 She did her duty there so well, 
 
 And eke so prudently she did herself behave, 
 With her in love her master fell; 
 
 His servant's favour he doth crave. 
 
 * Maudlin,' quoth he, ' my heart's delight. 
 
 To whom my heart is in affection tied. 
 Breed not my death through thy despite; 
 A faithful friend I will be tried. 
 
 * Grant me thy love, fair maid,' quoth he, 
 
 And at my hands require what thou canst devise. 
 And I will grant it unto thee. 
 Whereby thy credit may arise.' 
 
THE merchant's DAUGHTER OF BRISTOW. 223 
 
 * I have a brother, sir,* she said, 
 
 ^ For his religion is now condemned to die : 
 In loathsome prison he is laid, 
 Oppressed with grief and misery. 
 
 * Grant me my brother's life,' she said, 
 
 * And to you my love and liking I will give.' 
 
 * That may not be,' quoth he, ' fair maid ; 
 
 Except he turn, he cannot live.' 
 
 ^ An English friar there is,' she said, 
 
 * Of learning great and passing pure of life, 
 Let him to my brother be sent. 
 
 And he will finish soon the strife.' 
 
 Her master hearing this request. 
 
 The mariner in friar's weed she did array, 
 
 And to her love, that lay distressed. 
 She did a letter straight convey. 
 
 When he had read these gentle lines. 
 His heart was ravished with sudden joy; 
 
 Where now she was full well he knew : 
 The friar likewise Was not coy ; 
 
 But did declare to him at large 
 
 The enterprise for him his love had taken in hand. 
 The young man did the friar charge, 
 
 His love should straight depart the land. 
 
 * Here is no place for her,' he said, 
 
 ^ But woful death and danger of her harmless life : 
 Professing truth I was betrayed. 
 
 And fearful flames must end my strife. 
 
 * For, ere I will my faith deny, 
 
 And swear myself to follow damned Antichrist, 
 I'll yield my body for to die. 
 
 To live in heaven with the Highest.' 
 
224: EARLY BALLADS. 
 
 * sir !' the gentle friar said, [life.' 
 
 ^ For your sweet love recant, and save your wished 
 
 ' A. woful match,' quoth he, * is made 
 Where Christ is lost to win a wife.' 
 
 When she had wrought all means that might 
 
 To save her friend, and that she saw it would not be, 
 
 Then of the judge she claimed her right, 
 To die the death as well as he. 
 
 When no persuasion could prevail, 
 
 Nor change her mind in any thing that she had said. 
 She was with him condemned to die. 
 
 And for them both one fire was made. 
 
 And a-rm in arm most joyfully 
 
 These lovers twain unto the fire did go : 
 
 The mariner most faithfully 
 
 Was likewise partner of their woe. 
 
 But when the judges understood 
 
 The faithful friendship did in them remain, 
 
 They saved their lives; and afterward 
 To England sent them home again. 
 
 Now was their sorrow turned to joy. 
 
 And faithful lovers had now their heart's desire : 
 Their pains so well they did employ, 
 
 God granted that they did require. 
 
 And when they were to England come. 
 And in merry Bristow arrived at the last. 
 
 Great joy there was to all and some 
 That heard the dangers they had past. 
 
 Her gentle master she desired 
 
 To be her father, and at the church to give her then : 
 It was fulfilled as she required. 
 
 Unto the joy of all good men. 
 
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
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