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The 
 
 EDITED BY 
 
 ALEXANDER WHITELiOT: 
 
 A I K,v/o D. 
 THE RESIDENCE OF MICHAEL SCOTT 
 
 L ONDON. 
 
 BLACKIE &SON, PATERNOSTER BUILDINGS. 
 
 GLASGOW" & EDINBURGH. 
 
THE 
 
 BOOK OF SCOTTISH BALLADS; 
 
 A COMPREHENSIVE COLLECTION 
 
 OF THE MOST APPROVED 
 
 BALLADS OF SCOTLAND, 
 
 ANCIENT AND MODERN. 
 WITH NOTICES 
 
 HISTORICAL, CRITICAL, AND ANTIQUARIAN. 
 
 COLLECTED AND EDITED 
 
 By ALEXANDEE WHITELAW, 
 
 EDITOR OF "THE BOOK OF SCOTTISH SONG." 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 BLACKIE AND SON, PATERNOSTER BUILDINGS, E.C. 
 
 GLASGOW AND EDINBURGH. 
 
 1875. 
 
181* 
 
 MtttU tt (s in ijalle to ijeat tDe &arpe. 
 <Et)e ij&ttistrelles sgnge. tfce Hogelours carpe. 
 
 Davie, (circ. 1312.) 
 
 $ 
 
PEEFACE. 
 
 IT may be considered remarkable, that it was not till English literature had 
 reached its highest point of refinement — it was not till the days of Addison 
 and Pope., or, still later, of Gray and Goldsmith — that the rude ballad poetry 
 of the people became an object of interest to the learned. In the Spectator, 
 Addison first drew the attention of what was then called the 'polite world' 
 to the merits of the ballad of Chevy-Chase ; but he did so in the apologetic 
 strain of one who was fully prepared for the said world being surprised at 
 him taking under his protection any thing so vulgar, or even humble. He 
 introduces the ballad much in the manner that the fastidious yet generous 
 Guy Mannering may be supposed to have introduced to Ids lettered friends 
 the hearty borderer, Dandie Dinmont, with his spattered jack-boots and 
 shaggy dreadnought : — there was no denying the rough and startling exte- 
 rior, but many excellent qualities were to be found under it. Up to this 
 time, the traditionary ballads of the country were held to be of so rude a 
 character as to be scarcely amenable to the rules of literary criticism ; no his- 
 torical value seems to have been attached to them ; and with the exception of 
 some plodding Pepys,* who, for his own gratification, stitched and preserved 
 his ' Penny Garlands,' no endeavour was made to rescue them from the 
 perishable breath of oral tradition, or the fragile security of the pedlar's 
 broadside, t Soon after Addison's day, a disposition to look after the floating 
 
 * Samuel Pepys, the gossipping but delightful Diarist of the days of Charles II. and James 
 "VII., made a collection of ballads in 5 vols., which is deposited in the Pepysian library, Mag- 
 dalen College, Cambridge. 
 
 f Before the beginning of the last century, ballads were usually printed on broadside/, or a 
 single square of paper : the more common way now is to print them in a small book-form of 
 four leaves, with title page. "When intended for being held in the hand and sung through the 
 streets, they are still printed on single slips of paper 
 
IV PREFACE. 
 
 poetry of the olden times began to manifest itself, and Allan Ramsay has the 
 honourable distinction of leading- the way in this movement. His ' Ever- 
 green, being a collection of Scots poems wrote by the ingenious before 1600,' 
 contains, as ballads, The Battle of Harlaw, Johnie Armstrong, and The Reid- 
 squair Raid; and his ' Tea Table Miscellany,' published in 1724 and following 
 years, contains, as ballads, Sweet William's Ghost, Bonnie Barbara Allan, 
 The Bonnie Earl of Murray, and Johnie Faa. Some of these were obtained 
 rrom tradition ; others from the Bannatyne MS. In the Advocates' Library. 
 In the same year as the above, or rather between the years 1723 and 1725, 
 was published at London, in 3 volumes, ' A collection of Old Ballads, from the 
 best and most ancient extant, with Introductions, Historical, Critical or Hu- 
 morous.' This collection, with one exception, ' Gilderoy,' is wholly taken up 
 with English ballads. It does not mention the sources from which they are 
 drawn, and its Introductions are meagre. 
 
 These collections were but the humble harbingers of Dr. Percy's great work, 
 4 Reliques of Early English Poetry, consisting of old Heroic Ballads, Songs,' 
 &c., the first edition of which was published in the year 1755. Until the ap- 
 pearance of this work, the ballad lore of Britain may be said to have been all 
 but unknown and unexplored. The main source from which Dr. Percy 
 derived his collection was a long narrow folio manuscript, in his own posses- 
 sion, which had been written about the middle of the previous century, but 
 which contained compositions of various ages from before the times of Chaucer 
 downwards. So little was the literary public prepared for the contents of the 
 collection, that the existence or fidelity of the MS. was questioned, and the 
 Editor denounced as a literary impostor. But the existence of the MS. was 
 proved on the most undoubted authority, it being submitted to the inspection 
 of Shenstone, Dr. Johnson,* and afterwards of those eminent commentators on 
 
 * Dr. Johnson was a personal friend of Dr. Percy, and recommended the publication of the 
 'Reliques;' but, it is well known, he had a great contempt for ballad verses, protesting they 
 might be manufactured by the yard, without premeditation, — thus: 
 
 * I put my hat upon my head, Or, ' The tender infant, meek and mild, 
 And walked into the Strand, Fell down upon a stone; 
 
 And there I met another man The nurse took up the squalling child, 
 
 With his hat into his hand. But still the child squall'd on. 
 
PREFACE. V 
 
 Shakspeare, Dr. Farmer, Steevens, Malone, and Reed. The MS. was mutilated 
 in various parts, and imperfectly penned in others, so that the Editor was induced 
 to follow his own taste in many instances, by supplying deficiencies, and altering 
 and amending defective passages. This laid him open especially to the violent 
 reprehension of Ritson, an acute critic, and one of the severest exactors of 
 literal fidelity in matters antiquarian. But Percy has since been justified by 
 eminent poets and scholars (among the rest, by Sir Walter Scott and William 
 Motherwell, both jealous warders of the strongholds of antiquity,) on the 
 ground, that he did not conceal having altered or amended some of the pieces, 
 where he thought necessary, his object being not to gratify the mere anti- 
 quary, but to attract in the first place the popular taste to the hidden and 
 neglected treasures of ancient song. In this particular, he eminently suc- 
 ceeded, a circumstance sufficiently indicated by the number of editions through 
 which the ' Reliques' passed,* and by the influence which they manifestly had 
 on the poetical literature of the succeeding age. \ 
 
 The Percy ' Reliques' contained, beside the English pieces, some of our very 
 best Scottish Ballads, which were there printed for the first time in a collected 
 form. These are duly specified in the course of this Work. 
 
 For some years before and after Percy's collection appeared, the Foulises, 
 celebrated printers in Glasgow, issued from their press, under, we believe, the 
 
 Dr. Johnson, while he thus raised the laugh over the extreme simplicity of the ballad style, 
 probably little dreamt that his own turgid and artificial style was much more obnoxious to 
 ridicule. 
 
 * In the edition before us, (the fifth,) occurs a Dedication, which we are tempted to copy, as 
 me of the most beautiful and affecting which we have ever read : — ' To Elizabeth, lata 
 Duchess and Countess of Northumberland, in her own right Baroness Percy, &c, who, 
 being sole heiress to many great families of our ancient nobility, employed the princely fortune, 
 and sustained the illustrious honours, which she derived from them, through her whole life, 
 with the greatest dignity, generosity, and spirit ; and who for her many public and private 
 virtues will ever be remembered as one of the first characters of her time, this little work 
 was originally dedicated : — And, as it sometimes afforded her amusement, and mas highlit 
 distinguished by her indulgent approbation, it is now, rvith the utmost regard, respect, and grati- 
 tude, consecrated to her beloved and honoured Memory.' 
 
 f Sir Walter Scott has, in more than one place, recorded the influence which the perusal of 
 Percy's 'Reliques' had on his young mind. 'The tree,* he 6ays, 'is still in my recollection, 
 beneath which I lay, and first entered upon the enehanting perusal of Percy's Reliques of 
 English Poetry.' 
 
VI PREFACE. 
 
 superintendency of Lord Hailes, splendid copies, in small 4to size, large type, 
 of various Scottish ballads. These, however, were all separate publications, 
 though they may be in some instances found bound together. 
 
 In 1769, Herd's collection appeared. Of this work we have spoken in the 
 Introduction to the Book of Scottish Song. It may be enough here to say, 
 that it contains no less than twenty ballads or fragments of ballads there first 
 collected. 
 
 In 1777, the first edition of Evans's collection of Old Ballads was published 
 at London. These are almost altogether English, with a few Scottish, of 
 which we have availed ourselves. The best edition of Evans is that of 1810, 
 4 vols., edited by his son. 
 
 John Pinkerton, the historian, published in 1781 and 1783 collections of 
 Scottish Ballads, several of which ballads were fabrications of his own, a crime 
 bitterly exposed by Ritson, whose own various compilations, issued shortly 
 after this time, were of essential service in illustrating the ballad lore both of 
 England and Scotland. 
 
 A Collection of Scottish Ballads,' in 6 thin vols., was published by the 
 Morisons of Perth, in 1790, but it contains none not previously published 
 elsewhere. 
 
 In the beginning of the present century, the ballad literature of the country 
 received two of its most important additions, by the publication of Scott's 
 * Border Minstrelsy,' (1802,) and Jamieson's 'Popular Ballads and Songs,' 
 (1806.) The first edition of the Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border was printed 
 at Kelso, by Ballantyne, in two volumes. A third volume was added in 1803 ; 
 and the work was further augmented in subsequent editions. ' Fortunate it 
 was,' says Motherwell, • for the heroic and legendary song of Scotland that 
 this work was undertaken, and still more fortunate that its execution devolved 
 upon one so well qualified in every respect to do its subject the most ample 
 justice. Long will it live a noble and interesting monument of the unwearied 
 research, curious and minute learning, genius and taste of its illustrious editor. 
 It is truly a patriotic legacy to posterity ; and much as it may now be esteemed, 
 it is only in times yet gathering in the bosom of far futurity, when the inte- 
 resting traditions, the chivalrous and romantic legends, the wild superstitions, 
 the tragic song of Scotland, have wholly faded from the living memory, that 
 this gift can be duly appreciated. It is then that these volumes will be 
 
conned with feelings akin to religious enthusiasm — that their strange and 
 mystic lore will be treasured up in the heart as the precious record of days for 
 ever passed away — that their grand stern legends will be listened to with 
 reverential awe as if the voice of a remote ancestor, from the depths of the 
 tomb, had woke the thrilling strains of martial antiquity.' 
 
 Mr. Jamieson's work was projected and mostly collected before the Border 
 Minstrelsy appeared ; but its publication was deferred till 1806, when it issued 
 from the Ballantyne press in two octavo volumes, under the title of ' Popular 
 Ballads and Songs, from tradition, manuscripts, and scarce editions, with transla- 
 tions of similar pieces from the ancient Danish language, by Robert Jamieson ' 
 This collection is one of great value, and is ably illustrated. Much of Mr. 
 Jamieson's materials was obtained from the same source to which Scott was 
 largely indebted in collecting his Border Minstrelsy, namely, Mrs. Brown of 
 Falkland, a lady who was remarkable for the extent of her legendary lore, 
 and the accuracy of her memory. 
 
 In 1808, a small collection of ' Scottish Historical and Romantic Ballads' 
 appeared, edited by John I'inlay of Glasgow. This collection added little 
 to our store of legendary poetry, but it is valuable for its annotations, and it 
 also contains several successful imitations of the ancient ballad. 
 
 Since the above period, the most successful collectors and able illustrators 
 of the legendary ballads of Scotland have been, Mr. "William Motherwell, 
 Mr. David Laing, Mr. Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe, Mr. James Maid- 
 mext, Mr. Kinloch, and Mr. Peter Buchan. 
 
 Of the lamented Motherwell, as a deeply-versed scholar in the poetical an- 
 tiquities of his country, it would be difficult to speak too highly. From boy- 
 hood, black-letter lore was his passion, and in particular he studied with en- 
 thusiasm the works of the Old Scottish ' Makkaris.' A lyrical poet himself, 
 too, of the most exquisite pathos, few were better qualified than he was, 
 either by learning or genius, to explore the field of Ancient Historic and 
 Romantic Scottish Song, or to pick up in untrodden ways its wild-flowers. 
 His collection, accordingly,* is one of the most valuable of which our balla.1 
 
 * Minstrelsy, ancient and modern, with an Historical Introduction and Notes, Glasgow, 
 J,' 4to. 
 
V1I1 PREFACE. 
 
 literature can boast • — not that it has added largely to the stock of already 
 collected ballads, (for in that particular it can only claim somewhere about a 
 dozen, exclusive of different versions of known ballads,) but that its Introduc- 
 tion and Notes are fraught with information and ingenuity, which illustrate 
 in the pleasantest manner the subjects they treat, and which prove at once 
 the research of the antiquary and the spirit of the poet. The Introduction, 
 especially, may be recommended as a text-book to every tyro in ballad 
 literature. 
 
 The labours of Mr. David Laing, as an illustrator of the ancient lyrical muse 
 of Scotland, and indeed of ancient Scottish literature generally, have been inesti- 
 mable ; and although the ballad poetry of the country has only formed an in- 
 cidental portion of his researches, still very much is due to him in that depart- 
 ment, both as commentator and collector. 
 
 Mr. C. K. Sharpe's name has been long familiar to the antiquarian world 
 for his curious researches in all matters connected with the traditions and 
 manners of by-gone times. In 1824, he printed a tiny volume, entitled, ' A 
 Ballad Book,' which, though small in size, contained several ballads collected 
 for the first time, besides giving new readings of others. 
 
 Similar in size to the ' Ballad Book,' and published in the same year, was 
 the ' North Countrie Garland,' edited, anonymously, by Mr. James Maidment. 
 This little book contains about half-a-dozen ballads not previously collected. 
 To the same editor, we believe, we are indebted for another small volume, en- 
 titled, ' A New Book of Old Ballads,' printed at Edinburgh in 1844. In this 
 collection are given the genuine versions of several old ballads, or rather songs, 
 which Allan Ramsay and others had copied imperfectly or materially altered. 
 Very limited impressions of Mr. Sharpe's and Mr. Maidment's collections were 
 thrown off. 
 
 In 1827, Mr. Kinloch published, anonymously, an octavo volume, entitled, 
 ' Ancient Scottish Ballads, recovered from tradition, and never before pub- 
 lished, with Notes, and an Appendix, containing the Airs of several of the 
 Ballads.' This collection is edited with judgment. The recovered ballads 
 chiefly belong to the north of Scotland. 
 
 ' Gleanings of Scotch, English, and Irish scarce Old Ballads' is the title of an 
 humble little volume printed at Peterhead, in the far north, in the year 1825, 
 which only claims notice as the precursor of Mr. Peter Buchan's great collec- 
 
PREFACE. IX 
 
 tion, printed at Edinburgh in 1528, 2 vols. 8vo, and entitled, f Ancient Ballads 
 and Songs of the North of Scotland, hitherto unpublished, with explanatory 
 Notes.' This work presents to the public a larger array of old ballads and 
 scraps of ballads, not to be found elsewhere, than any other collection we 
 could name. Mr. Buchan, indeed, has been by far the most successful ballad- 
 hunter that ever entered the field, and his success is to be attributed partly to 
 his own unwearied researches, and partly to the district which he explored — 
 a district (Aberdeenshire and Banffshire) comparatively fresh and untrod by 
 ballad gatherers. Sir Walter Scott characterizes Mr. Buchan's collection, not 
 only as ' the most complete of the kind which has appeared,' but as ' decidedly 
 and undubitably original:' and we understand it was his intention to have 
 given his valuable assistance and name to an improved edition of the work, 
 had not disease overtaken him, and the finger of death hushed his worn spirit 
 into repose. 
 
 We have now adverted to the more important of our ballad collections. 
 The object of the present Work was to give, in a single volume, the whole of 
 our Scottish Ballads that merit attention either from intrinsic excellence, or 
 as illustrative of the history, manners, and feelings of olden times. This has 
 not been previously done, for notwithstanding the value of many of the above 
 collections, none of them affect to be so comprehensive in their range, but are 
 limited to certain districts, or to the individual researches of their respective 
 editors. The size of the type and form of page adopted in the present little 
 book have given the amplest scope for carrying out the design of the publica- 
 tion, insomuch that, small as the volume is, it contains, as one of its items, the 
 whole (with some slight exceptions) of Sir Walter Scott's Minstrelsy of the 
 Scottish Border, published in three octavo volumes, including his long and 
 valuable Dissertations on the History and Manners of the Scottish Borderers, 
 on the Fairy Mythology, and on the Great Civil Wars of the Seventeenth 
 Century. The copyright of the Ministrelsy of the Scottish Border has ex- 
 pired; and in the case of the more recent collections, the publishers had the 
 pleasure of securing the sanction of Mr. Jamieson, of Mr. Motherwell's latest 
 publishers, and of Mr. Peter Buchan, to select from the respective works of 
 these gentlemen what seemed most appropriate to the present publication, 
 specifying, of course, in all cases, the source whence each ballad was drawn, 
 
X PREFACE. 
 
 and illustrating each, where necessary, hy note or commentary. The 
 Book op Scottish Ballads has thus the advantage of being the first to 
 lay before the public, in a cheap form, the Border Minstrelsy of Scott, and the 
 selected mmstrelsy of those who preceded and followed him in his labours in 
 this department of literature. The selection is confined to Scottish ballads, 
 ballads on Scottish subjects, or, in one or two cases, Scottish versions of 
 English ballads ; and this the reader is requested to keep in mind, lest he might 
 bo apt to miss some favourite piece which does not come under either of the 
 above categories. In a book designed for popular use, it is also to be remem- 
 bered, that a number of ballads are necessarily excluded on account of their 
 coarseness or indelicacy ; but it is satisfactory to know, that the exclusions 
 have been made at no great sacrifice, as ballads bearing such exceptions are 
 generally of inferior merit otherwise. 
 
 Besides the ancient minstrelsy of the country, The Book op Scottish 
 Ballads embraces specimens of the best modern imitations of the olden bal- 
 lad, so that some of the masterly productions of Sir Walter Scott, the Ettrick 
 Shepherd, and others who have successfully cultivated this branch of litera- 
 ture, find a place in its pages. 
 
 I 
 
 PEEFATOEY NOTE TO THIS EDITION. 
 
 This edition of The Book of Scottish Ballads is a reprint of a work 
 originally published in 1844, when it was received with much favour. It is 
 re-issued on a larger size of paper, and at a lower price than formerly, and 
 is uniform in size and style with its companion volume, The Book op 
 Scottish Song, by the same Editor, 
 
 Glasgow, 1874. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS BALLADS. 
 
 Page^ 
 
 3 
 
 5 
 7 
 
 Thk Lass of Lochryan, . 
 
 Fair Annie of Lochryan, two Venions. 
 
 The Gay Goss-Hawk, 
 
 The Jolly Goss-Hawk, 
 
 Sir Patrick Spens, two Versions, . 
 
 Lady Clare, .... 
 
 Earl Eichard's Laughter, 
 
 The Bonnie Earl of Murray, two Versions, 16 
 
 Young "Waters, 
 
 Sir Arthur and Lady Anne, 
 
 FairAnnet, 
 
 Sweet Willie and Fair Annie, 
 
 Lord Beichan, . 
 
 Young Bekie, 
 
 May Colvin, two Versions, 
 
 The Jew's Daughter, . 
 
 The Martyr, 
 
 Glasgow Peggy, . 
 
 The Keach i' the Creel, . 
 
 The Angel Stars, 
 
 The Drowned Lovers, 
 
 Sir James the Eose, two Versions, 
 
 The Mermaid of Galloway, 
 
 Fause Foodrage, . 
 
 Bonnie Lizie Lindsay, 
 
 Lizzie Lindsay, . 
 
 Sir Eoland, .... 
 
 Annan Water, . . . 
 
 Lady Margaret, . . 
 
 Glenlogie, two Versions, . . 
 
 Page 
 
 Glenfinlas, £3 
 
 Young Peggy, 
 
 Katherine Janfarie, 
 
 Catherine Johnstone, ... 64 
 
 Lochinvar, .... .66 
 
 Lady Jean, 
 
 The Gardener, 
 
 Clerk Saunders, two Versions, 
 
 Sweet Willie and Lady Margerie, . 74 
 
 Sweet William and May Margaret, 74 
 
 Sweet William's Ghost, . . 75 
 
 William and Marjorie, . . .76 
 
 Fair Margaret and Sweet William, 77 
 
 William and Margaret, . . 78 
 
 Watty and Madge, 
 
 TheHeirofLinne, ... 81 
 
 Athol Wood, . . . .84 
 
 The twa Martyrs' Widows, . 84 
 
 Christie's Will, 
 
 The Master of Weemys, 
 
 The Marmaiden of Clyde, 
 
 Jock Johnstone the Tinkler, 
 
 Bonnie Baby Livingstone, 
 
 The Prophecy of Queen Emma, 
 
 Polydore, 100 
 
 The Lady and her Page, . . 102 
 Lord John's Murder, . . . 104 
 
 The Duke of Athole's Nurse, . 105 
 
 The Cruel Brother, . . .106 
 
 The Laird of Ochiltrie, . . 167 
 
two 
 
 and 
 
 The Laird of Logie, 
 
 Edom o' Gordon, . 
 
 The Daemon-Lover, 
 
 Gil Morice, 
 
 Chield Morice, 
 
 Childe Maurice, 
 
 Child Noryce, 
 
 Helenore, 
 
 King Malcora and Sir Colvin, 
 
 Young Aikin, . 
 
 Eose the Red and White Lilly, 
 Versions, . . 
 
 The Wedding of Robin Hood 
 Little John, 
 
 Hynd Horn, . 
 
 Laird of Drum, 
 
 The Battle of Harlaw, . 
 The King's Daughter, 
 Earl Richard, 
 Lord William, 
 
 Reedis^ale and Wise William, 
 Thomas o* Tonderdale, 
 Earl Crawford, 
 
 John Thomson and the Turk, 
 Earl Lindsaye, . . 
 The Orphan Maid, . 
 Through the Wood, 
 The twa Brothers, 
 The twa Magicians, 
 The Parted Lovers, 
 Lord Ronald, 
 Proud Lady Margaret, 
 The Courteous Knight, 
 Sir Hugh le Blond, . 
 The Millar's Son, 
 Bondsey and Maisry, 
 Chil Ether, 
 Lord Thomas Stuart, 
 Sir Maurice, 
 The Earl of Douglas and Dame Oliphantj 
 The Laird o' Meldrum and Peggy Dou- 
 glas, .... 
 The Wife of Usher's Well, 
 
 Paee & 
 
 Burd Helen, . 
 
 Queen Eleanor's Confession, 
 
 Lord Lovel, . . 
 
 Lord Lovat, 
 
 Lady Elspat, 
 
 The Earl of Mar's Daughtei 
 
 Lady Jane, 
 
 The Bent sae Brown, 
 
 Rosmer Hafmand, 
 
 Marchioness of Douglas, 
 
 Jell on Grame, 
 
 Lady Anne, 
 
 Erlinton, 
 
 Young Benjie, . 
 
 The Curse of Moy, 
 
 Hardyknute, .... 
 
 The Duel of Wharton and Stuart, 
 
 Lady Maisry, .... 
 
 Glenkindie, . 
 
 The Murder of Caerlaveroc, 
 
 The Fause Lover, . 
 
 Blancheflour and Jellyflorice, 
 
 James Herries, . . 
 
 Cadyow Castle, . 
 
 Willie's Drowned in Gamery, 
 
 Lord Barnaby, .... 
 
 The Clerk's twa Sons o' Owsenford, 
 
 The Gude Wallace, two Versions, 
 
 Lord Randal, .... 
 
 Lord Donald, .... 
 
 Lammikin,J?ue Versions, . 
 
 Burning of Auchindoun, two Versions, 
 
 The Warlock of Aikwood, 
 
 Black Agnace of Dunbar, . 
 
 Duncan, a Fragment, 
 
 Memorables of the Montgomeries, 
 
 Highland Legend, . 
 
 The Young Johnstone, 
 
 The Dowy Den, .... 
 
 The Cruel Sister, 
 
 The Queen's Marie, 
 
 Mary Hamilton, . . 
 
 Andrew Lammie, .... 
 
 Psure 
 178 
 181 
 183 
 183 
 185 
 186 
 188 
 189 
 191 
 193 
 196 
 197 
 198 
 199 
 201 
 305 
 210 
 211 
 216 
 218 
 
Johnie Faa, 
 
 The Fire of Frendraught, 
 
 Frennet Hall, 
 
 The Gray Brother, 
 
 The Blaeberries, . 
 
 Lochaber no more, 
 
 Earl Richard, 
 
 Allan-a-Maut, two Versions, 
 
 John Barleycorn, 
 
 Brown Adam, 
 
 Lord Spynie, . . 
 
 Edward, Edward, 
 
 Son Davie, Son Davie, 
 
 Page 4 
 
 The Broom of Cowdenknows, 
 
 Sir Niel and Mac Van , 
 
 Lizie Baillie, .... 
 
 The Laird of Waristoun, 
 
 The Weary Coble o' Oargill, 
 
 Bonnie Susie Cleland, 
 
 Baby Lon, or the Bonnie Banks 
 
 Fordie, 
 Prince Robert, 
 
 Earl Robert, .... 
 Saint Ullin's Pilgrim, 
 The Battle of Luncarty, 
 Sir Gilbert Hamilton, 
 
 Page 
 
 281 
 203 
 294 
 
 II 
 
 BORDER BALLADS. 
 
 Introduction, . . 
 
 The Battle of Otterbourne, 
 
 The Outlaw Murray, 
 
 Johnie Armstrang, . . 
 
 Johnnie Armstrong's last Goodnight, 
 
 Armstrong's Goodnight, 
 
 The Lochmaben Harper, 
 
 James Telfer of the Fair Dodhead, 
 
 The Raid of the Reidswire, 
 
 Kinmont 'Willie, ... 
 
 Dick o' the Cow, .... 
 
 Jock o' the Side, . 
 
 Hoble Nobbie, 
 
 Rookhope Ryde, 
 
 Archie of Ca'field, 
 
 Death of Featherstonhaugh, 
 
 305 
 
 Lord Maxwell's Goodnight, . . 
 
 389 
 
 344 
 
 The Lads of Wamphray, 
 
 392 
 
 349 
 
 Barthram's Dirge, 
 
 394 
 
 355 
 
 The Fray of Suport, . 
 
 394 
 
 358 
 
 Auld Maitland, .... 
 
 397 
 
 360 
 
 Lord Ewrie, .... 
 
 404 
 
 360 
 
 Johnie of Breadislee, 
 
 405 
 
 362 
 
 Johnie of Braidisbank, 
 
 40? 
 
 365 
 
 Archie Armstrang's Aith, 
 
 407 
 
 370 
 
 Lament of the Border Widow, 
 
 409 
 
 374 
 
 Hughie the Graeme, 
 
 410 
 
 379 
 
 Hughie Graham, 
 
 411 
 
 381 
 
 The Laird of Lairistan, or the Three 
 
 
 384 
 
 Champions of Liddisdale, 
 
 4ia 
 
 387 
 
 The Tweeddale Raide, . 
 
 415 
 
III. 
 
 BALLADS CONNECTED WITH FAIRY MYTHOLOGY. 
 
 Pa?e , 
 Introduction, .... 419 
 The Young Tamlane, . . .449 
 
 Tom Linn, 453 
 
 The Gloamyne Buchte, . . .454 
 Alison Gross, .... 401 
 
 The "Wee Wee Man, . . .462 
 
 The Elfin Knicht, ... 463 
 
 The Fairy Knight, . . . .464 
 Sir Oluf, and the Elf' King's Daughter, 465 
 
 ElferHill, 466 
 
 Sir Alan Mortimer, ... 467 
 
 Thomas the Ehymer, . . 469 
 
 
 Pa?e 
 
 Lyttil Pynkie, 
 
 . 478 
 
 The Witch of Fife, 
 
 483 
 
 Lord Soulis, 
 
 . 487 
 
 The Cout of Keeldar, 
 
 492 
 
 The Spirit of the Glen, . 
 
 . 497 
 
 The Last Fairy, 
 
 501 
 
 The Brownie of Fearnden, 
 
 . 502 
 
 The Tane-away, 
 
 503 
 
 Water Kelpie, . . , 
 
 . 503 
 
 The Maid and Fairy, . 
 
 506 
 
 May of the Moril Glen, . 
 
 . 607 
 
 Kilmeny, .... 
 
 511 
 
 IV. 
 
 BALLADS RELATING TO THE GREAT CIVIL WARS OF THE 
 SEVENTEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 Introduction, . . 
 The Battle of Philiphangh, 
 The Gallant Grahams, 
 Battle of Pentla nd Hills, . 
 The Battle of Loudon-Hill, 
 
 Pa<re^ 
 
 Pape. 
 
 Battle of Both well -Bridge, . . 638 
 
 Bothwell Brigg, .... 644 
 The Haughs of Cromdale, . . 546 
 Auchindoun, .... 648 
 
CONTEXTS. 
 
 V. 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 Thb Eaid of Glen rruin, 
 
 Lady Jean, .... 
 
 Giitlee; or, the Hap of Hind Halbert, 
 
 CumnorHall, 
 
 The Battle of Corichie, . 
 
 TheDukeofAthol, . 
 
 Sir George Maxwell, . 
 
 Knockespock's lady, 
 
 Page. 
 The Greetin' Bairn, ... 360 
 
 The "Witch o' Pittenweem, . . 56! 
 
 Bishop Thurstau, and the king of Scots, 565 
 The Duke of Gordon's three Daughters, 565 
 Geordie, two Versions, . . 567 
 
 Young Bandall, ... 568 
 
 Archy o' Kilspindie, . . 569 
 
 The Birtwhistle Wicht, . . .571 
 
 Besides the Introduction to the various Sections, very many of the separate 
 Ballads have long and interesting Historical or Antiquarian Notices preceding 
 them. 
 

 
 
 
 #«u^i) 
 
 SSallaB*. 
 
 
 <S3£^S^®^£«sSS^>S> 
 
 
 
 i 
 
 i " But I will get a bonnie boat. 
 
 
 
 v» And I will sail the sea ; 
 
 
 
 
 And I will gang to lord Gregory, 
 
 
 
 ®&e E» of E&cljrsarc. 
 
 Since he canna come hame to me." 
 Syne she's gar'd build a bonnie boat, 
 
 
 
 [The beautiful and pathetic ballad called 
 
 To sail the salt, salt sea : 
 
 
 
 "The Lass of Lochryan," or "Fair Annie of 
 
 The sails were o' the light green silk, 
 
 
 
 Lochryan," was first published in an imperfect 
 
 The tows o' taffety. 
 
 
 
 state in Herd's Collection, and afterwards in a 
 
 
 
 
 more complete form in Scott's Minstrelsy of the 
 
 She hadna sailed but twenty leagues, 
 
 
 
 Scottish Border. Another version of the same 
 
 But twenty leagues and three, 
 
 
 
 ballad was given in Jamieson's Popular Ballads 
 
 When she met wi' a rank robber, 
 
 
 
 and Songs, (1806). As the versions of Scott and 
 
 And a' his company. 
 
 
 
 Jamieson differ considerably from each other, 
 
 
 
 
 and possess respectively beauties of their own, 
 
 " Now whether are ye the queen hersell, 
 
 
 
 we here quote both sets, placing Scott's first. It 
 
 (For so ye weel might be) 
 
 
 
 will be recollected that Dr Wolcot (the well 
 
 Or are ye the lass of Lochryan, 
 
 
 
 known Peter Pindar) and Burns wrote each a 
 
 Seekin' lord Gregory?" 
 
 
 
 song for Thomson's Collection called "Lord 
 
 
 
 
 Gregory," founded on the subject of the pre- 
 
 "01 am neither the queen," she said, 
 
 
 
 sent ballad. Lochryan is a fine bay or loch, 
 
 " Nor sic I seem to be; 
 
 
 
 which projects from the Irish channel into Wig- 
 
 But I am the lass of Lochryan, 
 
 
 
 tonshire or Galloway.] 
 
 Seekin' lord Gregory." 
 
 
 
 " wha will shoe my bonnie foot ? 
 
 " see na thou yon bonnie bower, 
 
 
 
 And wha will glove my hand ? 
 
 It's a' covered o'er wi' tin ? 
 
 
 
 And wha will lace my middle jimp 
 
 When thou hast sailed it round about, 
 
 
 
 WI' a lang, lang linen band ? 
 
 Lord Gregory is within." 
 
 
 
 "0 wha will kame my yellow hair 
 
 And when she saw the stately tower 
 
 
 
 With a new-made silver kame ? 
 
 Shining sae clear and bright, 
 
 
 
 And wha will father my young son 
 
 Whilk stood aboon the jawing wave, . 
 
 
 
 Till lord Gregory come name ?" 
 
 Built on a rock of height ; 
 
 
 
 " Thy father will shoe thy bonnie foot, 
 
 Says — " Row the boat, my mariners, 
 
 
 
 Thy mother will glove thy hand, 
 
 And bring me to the land ! 
 
 
 
 Thy sister will lace thy middle jimp, 
 
 For yonder I see my love's castle 
 
 
 
 Till lord Gregory come to land. 
 
 Close by the salt-sea strand." 
 
 
 
 " Thy brother will kame thy yellow hair 
 
 She sailed it round, and sailed it round, 
 
 
 
 "With a new-made silver kame, 
 
 And loud, loud cried she — 
 
 
 
 And God will be thy bairn s father 
 
 " Now break, now break, ye fairy charms, 
 
 
 
 Till lord Gregory come hame." ? 
 
 p And set my true love free '" 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 2 SOOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 
 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. 
 
 When the cock had crawn, and the day did 
 And the sun began to peep, [dawn, 
 
 Then up and raise him lord Gregory, 
 And sair, sair did he weep. 
 
 
 
 " open the door, lord Gregory ! 
 
 open, and let me in ! 
 For the wind blaws through my yellow hair, 
 
 And the rain draps o'er my chin." 
 
 " Oh I ha'e dreamed a dream, mother;, 
 
 I wish it may prove true ! 
 That the bonnie lass of Lochryan 
 
 Was at the yate e'en now. 
 
 
 
 " 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." 
 
 "01 ha'e dreamed a dream, mother, 
 The thought o't gars me greet ! 
 
 That fair Annie o' Lochryan 
 Lay cauld dead at my feet." 
 
 
 
 " I am neither witch, nor wil warlock, 
 
 Nor mermaid o' the sea ; 
 But I am Annie of Lochryan; 
 
 open the door to me I" 
 
 " Gin it be for Annie of Lochryan 
 That ye make a' this din, 
 
 She stood a' last night at your door 3 
 But I trow she wan na in." 
 
 
 
 " Gin thou be Annie of Lochryan, 
 (As I trow thou binna she) 
 
 Now tell me some of the love tokens 
 That past between thee and me." 
 
 " wae betide ye, ill woman ! 
 
 An ill deid may ye die ! 
 That wadna open the door to her, 
 
 Nor yet wad wauken 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 ? 
 
 he's gane down to yon shore side 
 A s fast as he could fare ; 
 
 He saw fair Annie in the boat, 
 But the wind it tossed her sair. 
 
 
 
 " 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 hey, Annie, and how, Annie! 
 
 Annie, winna ye bide '" 
 But aye the mair he cried Annie, 
 
 The braider grew the tide. 
 
 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " And hey, Annie, and how, Annie 1 
 Bear Annie, speak to me!" 
 
 But aye the louder he cried Annie, 
 The louder roared the sea. 
 
 
 
 " If thou be the lass of Lochryan, 
 
 (As I kenna thou be) 
 Tell me some mair o' the love tokens 
 
 Past between me and thee." 
 
 The wind blew loud, the sea grew rough. 
 And dashed the boat on shore ; 
 
 Fair Annie floated through the faem, 
 But the babie raise no more. 
 
 
 
 Fair Annie turned her round about — 
 
 " Weel ! since that it be sae, 
 May never a woman, that has borne a son, 
 
 Ha'e a heart sae fou o' wae ! 
 
 Lord Gregory tore his yellow hair, 
 And made a heavy moan ; 
 
 Fair Annie's corpse lay at his feet. 
 Her bonnie young son was gone. 
 
 
 
 " Take down, take down, that mast o' gowd ! 
 
 Set up a mast o' tree ! 
 It disna become a forsaken lady 
 
 To sail sae royallie." < 
 
 cherry, cherry was her cheek, 
 
 And gowden was her hair ; 
 But clay-cold were her rosy lips — 
 fi Nae spark o' life was there. 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 3 
 
 And first he kissed her cherry cheek, ^fe She hadna been 0' the sea sailin' 
 
 And syne he kissed her chin, 
 
 About a month or more, 
 
 And syne he kissed her rosy lips — 
 
 Till landed has she her bonnie ship 
 
 There was nae breath within. 
 
 Near her true-lover's door. 
 
 ' wae betide my cruel mother! 
 
 The nicht was dark, and the wind blew 
 
 An ill death may she dee ! 
 
 And her love was fast asleep, [cald, 
 
 She turned my true love frae my door, 
 
 And the bairn that was in her twa arms, 
 
 Wha came sae far to me. 
 
 Fu' sair began to greet. 
 
 " wae betide my cruel mother ■ 
 
 Lang stood she at her true-love's door. 
 
 An ill death may she dee '. 
 
 And lang tirl'd at the pin ; 
 
 She turned fair Annie frae my door, 
 
 At length up gat his fause mother, 
 
 Wha died for love 0' me." 
 
 Says, " Wha's that wad be in ?" 
 
 
 " 0, it is Annie of Lochryan, 
 
 
 
 Your love, come o'er the sea, 
 
 
 But and your young son in her arms; 
 
 
 So open the door to me." 
 
 FAIR ANNIE OF LOCHRTAN. 
 
 
 
 " Awa, awa, ye ill woman, 
 
 TJamieson's version. Mr Jamieson says, that 
 
 You're nae come here for gude ; 
 
 he frequently, when a boy, heard the following 
 
 You're but a witch, or a vile warlock 
 
 set of the ballad chanted in Morayshire.] 
 
 Or a mermaid 0' the flude." 
 
 " wha will shoe my fair foot, 
 
 *' I'm nae a witch or vile warlock, 
 
 And wha will glove my han' ? 
 
 Ormermaiden," said she, — 
 
 And wha will lace my middle jimp 
 
 " I'm but your Annie of Lochryan; 
 
 Wi' a new-made London ban' ? 
 
 open the door to me !" 
 
 " Or wha will kemb my yellow hair 
 
 " gin ye be Annie of Lochryan, 
 
 Wi' a new-made silver kemb ? 
 
 As I trust not ye be, 
 
 Or wha'U be father to my young bairn, 
 
 What taiken can ye gi'e that e'er 
 
 Till love Gregor come hame ?" 
 
 I kept your companie ?" 
 
 " Your father'll shoe your fair foot, 
 
 " dinna ye mind, love Gregor," she says, 
 
 Your mother glove your han' ; 
 
 " Whan we sat at the wine, 
 
 Your sister lace your middle jimp 
 
 How we changed the napkins frae our necks, 
 
 Wi' a new-made London ban' ; 
 
 It's nae sae lang sinsyne ? 
 
 *' Your brethren will kemb your yellow hair 
 
 " And yours was gude, and gude enough, 
 
 Wi' a new-made silver kemb ; 
 
 But nae sae gude as mine; 
 
 And the King 0' Heaven will father your 
 
 For yours was 0' the cambric clear, 
 
 Till love Gregor come hame." [bairn 
 
 But mine 0' the silk sae fine. 
 
 " gin I had a bonnie ship, 
 
 " And dinna ye mind, love Gregor," she 
 
 And men to sail wi' me, 
 
 "As we twa sat at dine, [says, 
 
 It's 1 wad gang to my true love, 
 
 How we ehang'd the rings frae our fingers, 
 
 Sin' he winna come to me !" 
 
 And I can show thee thine: 
 
 Her father *s gi'en her a bonnie ship, 
 
 " And yours was gude, and gude enough, 
 
 And sent her to the stran' ; 
 
 Yet nae sae gude as mine; 
 
 She's ta'en her young son in her arms, 
 
 For yours was 0' the gude red gold, 
 
 And turn'd her back to the Ian'. { 
 
 f But mine 0' the diamonds fine. 
 

 
 
 
 4 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 " Sae open the door, now, love Gregor, 4 
 
 ^ And "heigh, Annie !" and " how, Annie! 
 
 
 
 And open it wi' speed ; 
 
 0, A nnie, speak to me !" 
 
 
 
 Or your young son, that is in my arms, 
 
 But aye the louder he cried "Annie," 
 
 
 
 For cauld will soon be dead." 
 
 The louder rair'd the sea. 
 
 
 
 " Awa, awa, ye ill woman 
 
 The wind grew loud, the sea grew rough, 
 
 
 
 Gae frae my door for shame, 
 
 And the ship was rent in twain ; 
 
 
 
 For I ha'e gotten an'ther fair love, 
 
 And soon he saw her, fair Annie, 
 
 
 
 Sae ye may hie you hame." 
 
 Come floating o'er the main. 
 
 
 
 " ha'e ye gotten anither fair love. 
 
 He saw his y ung son in her arms, 
 
 
 
 For a' the oaths ye sware ? 
 
 Baith tcB?'d aboon the tide; 
 
 
 
 Then fare ye weel, now, fause Gregor, 
 
 He wrang his hands, and fast he ran 
 
 
 
 For me ye's never see mair !" 
 
 And pi ung 'd in the sea sae wide. 
 
 
 
 0, hooly, hooly gaed she back 
 
 He catch'd her by the yellow hair, 
 
 
 
 As the day began to peep ; 
 
 And drew her to the strand ; 
 
 
 
 She set her foot on good ship board, 
 
 But cauld and stiff was every limb, 
 
 
 
 And sair, sair did she weep. 
 
 Before he reach'd the land. 
 
 
 
 "Tak' down, tak' down the mast o' goud, 
 
 first he kiss'd her cherry cheek, 
 
 
 
 Set up the mast o' tree; 
 
 And syne he kiss'd her chin, 
 
 
 
 111 sets it a forsaken lady 
 
 And sair he kiss'd her ruby lips; 
 
 
 
 To sail sae gallantlie. 
 
 But there was nae breath within. 
 
 
 
 " Tak' down, tak' down the sails o' silk, 
 
 he has mourn'd o'er fair Annie, 
 
 
 
 Set up the sails o' skin ; 
 
 Till the sun was ganging down , 
 
 
 
 111 sets the outside to be gay, 
 
 Syne wi' a sich his heart it brast, 
 
 
 
 Whan there's sic grief within !" 
 
 And his saul tc heaven has flown. 
 
 
 
 Love Gregor started frae his sleep, 
 
 
 
 
 And to his mother did say, 
 
 
 
 
 " I dreamt a dream this night, mither, 
 
 
 
 
 That mak's my heart richt wae ; 
 
 FAIB ANNIE OF LOCHEYAN. 
 
 
 
 " I dreamt that Annie of Loehryan, 
 
 [In Allan Cunningham's Songs of Scotland, 
 
 
 
 The flower o" a' her kin, 
 
 we have this set of " Fair Annie of Loehryan." 
 
 
 
 Was standin' mourn in' at my door, 
 
 We quote it as curiously illustrative of the liber- 
 
 
 
 But nane wad let her in." 
 
 ties which " honest Allan" took with the songs 
 and ballads of his country.] 
 
 
 
 " there was a woman stood at the door, 
 
 
 
 
 Wi' a bairn intill her arms; 
 
 Sweet Annie built a bonnie ship, 
 
 
 
 But I wadna let her within the bower, 
 
 And set her on the sea ; 
 
 
 
 For fear she had done you harm." 
 
 The sails were a' of the damask'd silk, 
 The masts of silver free. 
 
 
 
 O quickly, quickly raise he up, 
 
 The glaisome waters sung below, 
 
 
 
 And fast ran to the strand ; 
 
 And the sweet wind sung above — 
 
 
 
 And there he saw her, fair Annie, 
 
 Make way for Annie of Loehryan, 
 
 
 
 Was sailing frae the land. 
 
 She comes to seek her love. 
 
 
 
 And " heigh, Annie," and " how, Annie! 
 
 A gentle wind came with a sweep, 
 
 
 
 0, Annie, winna ye bide ?" 
 
 And stretched her silken sail, 
 
 
 
 But aye the louder he cried " Annie," 
 
 When up there came a reaver rude, 
 
 
 
 The higher rair'd the tide. ^ 
 
 j With many a shout and hail ; 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 5 
 
 
 
 O touch her not, my mariners a', < 
 
 & And hey Annie, and how Annie, 
 
 
 
 Such loveliness goes free ; 
 
 And Annie winna ye bide ? 
 
 
 
 Make way for Annie of Lochryan, 
 
 But aye the mair he called Annie, 
 
 
 
 She seeks Lord Gregorie. 
 
 The broader grew the tide. 
 
 
 
 The moon look'd out with all her stars, 
 
 And hey Annie, and how Annie, 
 
 
 
 The ship moved merrily on, 
 
 Dear Annie speak to me, 
 
 
 
 Until she came to a castle high, 
 
 But aye the louder he cried Annie, 
 
 
 
 That all as diamonds shone : 
 
 The louder roared the sea. 
 
 
 
 On every tower there streamed a light, 
 
 The wind waxed loud, the sea grew rough, 
 
 
 
 On the middle tower shone three — 
 
 The ship sunk nigh the shore, 
 
 
 
 Move for that tower my mariners a', 
 
 Fair Annie floated through the foam, 
 
 
 
 My love keeps watch for me. 
 
 But the baby rose no more. 
 
 
 
 She took her young son in her arms, 
 
 Oh first he kiss'd her cherry cheek, 
 
 
 
 And on the deck she stood — 
 
 And then he kiss'd her chin, 
 
 
 
 The wind rose with an angry gust, 
 
 And syne he kiss'd her rosie lips, 
 
 
 
 The sea wave wakened rude. 
 
 But there was nae breath within. 
 
 
 
 Oh open the door, Lord Gregory, love, 
 
 Oh my love's love was true as light, 
 
 
 
 Oh open and let me in; 
 
 As meek and sweet was she — 
 
 
 
 The sea foam hangs in my yellow hair, 
 
 My mother's hate was strong as death, 
 
 
 
 The surge dreeps down my chin. 
 
 And fiercer than the sea. 
 
 
 
 All for thy sake, Lord Gregory, love, 
 
 
 
 
 I've sailed a perilous way, 
 
 
 
 
 And thy fair son is 'tween my breasts, 
 
 
 
 
 And he'll be dead ere day. 
 
 
 
 
 The foam hangs on the topmast cliff, 
 
 
 
 
 The fires run on the sky, 
 And hear ye not your true love's voice, 
 
 W&t Ca^ ©ogsu^afcjfe. 
 
 
 
 And her sweet baby's cry ? 
 
 
 
 
 Fair Annie turned her round about, 
 And tears began to flow — 
 
 [First published in Scott's Minstrelsy of the 
 Scottish Border.] 
 
 
 
 May never a baby suck a breast 
 
 
 
 
 AVi' a heart sae fou of woe. 
 
 " waly, waly, my gay goss-hawk, 
 
 
 
 Take down, take down that silver mast, 
 
 Gin your feathering be sheen !" 
 
 
 
 Set up a mast of tree, 
 
 " And waly, waly, my master dear, 
 
 
 
 It does nae become a forsaken dame 
 
 Gin ye look pale and lean ' 
 
 
 
 To sail sae royallie. 
 
 " have ye tint, at tournament, 
 
 
 
 Oh read my dream, my mother dear — 
 
 Your sword, or yet your spear ? 
 
 
 
 I heard a sweet babe greet, 
 
 Or mourn ye for the Southern lass, 
 
 
 
 And saw fair Annie of Lochryan 
 
 Whom you may not win near ?' 
 
 
 
 Lie cauld dead at my feet. 
 
 
 
 
 And loud and loud his mother laughed — 
 
 " I have not tint, at tournament, 
 
 
 
 Oh sight's mair sure than sleep, 
 
 My sword, nor yet my spear ; 
 
 
 
 I saw fair Annie, and heard her voice, 
 
 But sair I mourn for my true love, 
 
 
 
 And her baby wail and weep. 
 
 Wi' mony a bitter tear. 
 
 
 
 he went down to yon sea side 
 
 " But weel's me on ye, my gay goss-hawk, 
 
 
 
 As fast as he could fare, 
 
 Ye can baith speak and flee; 
 
 
 
 He saw fair Annie and her sweet babe, 
 
 Ye sail carry a letter to my love, 
 
 
 
 But the wild wind tossed them sair : { 
 
 ^ Bring an answer back to me." 
 
 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 " But how sail I your true love find, 
 
 Or how suld I her know ? 
 I bear a tongue ne'er wi' her spake, 
 
 An eye that ne'er her saw." 
 
 " O weel sail ye my true love ken, 
 
 Sae sune as ye her see ; 
 For, of a' the flowers of fair England, 
 
 The fairest flower is she. 
 
 " The red, that's on my true love's cheik, 
 Is like blood drops on the snaw ; 
 
 The white, that is on her breast bare, 
 Like the down o' the white sea-maw. 
 
 " And even at my love's bour door 
 
 There grows a flowering birk; 
 And ye maun sit and sing thereon 
 
 As she gangs to the kirk. 
 
 " And four-and-twenty fair ladyes 
 
 Will to the mass repair; 
 But well may ye my ladye ken, 
 
 The fairest ladye there." 
 
 Lord "William has written a love letter. 
 
 Put it under his pinion gray ; 
 And he is awa' to Southern land 
 
 As fast as wings can gae. 
 
 And even at that ladye's bour 
 
 There grew a flowering birk ; 
 And he sat down and sung thereon 
 
 As she gaed to the kirk. 
 
 And weel he kent that ladye fair 
 
 Amang her maidens free ; 
 For the flower, that springs in May morning, 
 
 "Was not sae sweet as she. 
 
 He lighted at the ladye's yate, 
 
 And sat him on a pin ; 
 And sang fu' sweet the notes o' love, 
 
 Till a' was cosh within. 
 
 And first he sang a low low note, 
 
 And syne he sang a clear; 
 And aye the o'erword o' the sang 
 
 "Was — " Tour love can no win here." 
 
 " Feast on, feast on, my maidens a', 
 
 The wine flows you amang, 
 While I gang to my shot-window, 
 
 And hear yon bonnie bird's sang. 
 
 " Sing on, sing on, my bonnie bird, 
 
 The sang ye sung yestreen ; 
 For weel I ken, by your sweet singing, 
 
 Ye are frae my tiue love seen." 
 
 O first he sang a merry sang, 
 
 And syne he sang a grave ; 
 And syne he peck'd his feathers gray, 
 
 To her the letter gave. 
 
 " Have there a letter from lord "William : 
 
 He says he's sent ye three, 
 He canna wait your love langer, 
 
 But for your sake he'll die." 
 
 " Gae bid him bake his bridal bread, 
 
 And brew his bridal ale ; 
 And I shall meet him at Mary's kirk, 
 
 Lang, lang ere it be stale." 
 
 The lady's gane to her chamber, 
 And a moanfu' woman was she , 
 
 As gin fihe had ta'en a sudden brash, 
 And were about to die. 
 
 " A boon, a boon, my father deir, 
 
 A boon I beg of thee !" 
 "Ask not that paughty Scottish lord, 
 
 For him you ne'er shall see. 
 
 " But, for your honest asking else 
 
 Weel granted it shall be." 
 " Then, gin I die in Southern land, 
 
 In Scotland gar bury me. 
 
 " And the first kirk that ye come to, 
 
 Ye's gar the mass be sung ; 
 And the next kirk that ye come to, 
 
 Ye's gar the bells be rung. 
 
 " And when ye come to St Mary's kirk, 
 
 Ye's tarry there till night." 
 And so her father pledged his word, 
 
 And so his promise plight. 
 
 She has ta'en her to her bigly bour 
 
 As fast as she could fare , 
 And she has drank a sleepy draught, 
 
 That she had mix'd wi' care. 
 
 And pale, pale grew her rosy cheek, 
 
 That was sae bright of blee, 
 And she seemed to be as surely dead 
 
 As any one could be. 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS 
 
 Then spak' her cruel step-minnie, 
 
 " Tak' ye the burning lead, 
 And drap a drap on her bosome, 
 
 To try if she be dead." 
 
 They took a drap o' boiling lead, 
 
 They drapp'd on her breast; 
 " Alas ! alas !" her father cried, 
 
 " She 's dead without the priest." 
 
 She neither chatter'd with her teeth, 
 
 Nor chiver'd with her chin ; 
 " Alas ! alas I" her father cried, 
 
 " There is nae breath within." 
 
 Then up arose her seven brethren, 
 
 And hew'd to her a bier ; 
 They hew'd it frae the solid aik, 
 
 Laid it o'er wi' silver clear. 
 
 Then up and gat her seven sisters, 
 
 And sewed to her a kell ; 
 And every steek that they put in 
 
 Sewed to a siller bell. 
 
 The first Scots kirk that they cam' to, 
 
 They garr'd the bells be rung, 
 The ne*t Scots kirk that they cam' to, 
 
 They garr'd the mass be sung. 
 
 But when they cam' to St Mary's kirk, 
 There stood spearmen all in a raw; 
 
 And up and started lord "William, 
 The chieftane amang them a'. 
 
 " Set down, set down the bier," he said ; 
 
 " And let me look her upon :" 
 Butas soon as lord William touched her hand, 
 
 Her colour began to come. 
 
 She brightened like the lily flower, 
 
 Till her pale colour was gone ; 
 "With rosy cheik, and ruby lip, 
 
 She smiled her love upon. 
 
 " A morsal of your bread, my lord, 
 
 And one glass of your wine : 
 For I ha'e fasted these three lang days, 
 
 All for your sake and mine. 
 
 " Gae hame, gae hame, my seven bauld bro- 
 Gae hame and blaw your horn ! [thers ! 
 
 I trow ye wad ha'e gi'en me the skaith, 
 But I've gi'en you the scorn. 
 
 " Commend me to my grey father. 
 That wish'd my saul gude rest; 
 
 But wae be to my cruel step-dame, 
 Garr'd burn me on the breast." 
 
 " Ah ! woe to you, you light woman ! 
 
 An ill death may you dee ! 
 For we left father and sisters at hame 
 
 Breaking their hearts for thee." 
 
 THE JOLLY GOSS-HAWK. 
 
 [Version given by Motherwell in his Min- 
 strelsy Ancient and Modern.] 
 
 " O well is me my Jolly Goss-hawk, 
 
 That ye can speak and flee ; 
 For ye can carry a love letter, 
 
 To my true love from me." 
 
 " O how can I carry a letter to her, 
 
 When her I do not know ? 
 I bear the lips to her never spak', 
 
 And the eyes that her never saw." 
 
 " The thing of my love's face that's white, 
 
 Is that of dove or maw; 
 The thing of my love's face that's red, 
 
 Is like blood shed on snaw. 
 
 " And when you come to the castel, 
 
 Light on the bush of ash ; 
 And sit you there and sing our loves, 
 
 As she comes from the mass. 
 
 " And when she gaes into the house, 
 
 Sit ye upon the whin ; 
 And sit you there and sing our loves, 
 
 As she goes out and in." 
 
 And when he flew to that castel, 
 
 He lighted on the ash ; 
 And there he sat and sung their loves, 
 
 As she came from the mass. 
 
 And when she went into the house, 
 
 He flew into the whin ; 
 And there he sat and sung their loves, 
 ; As she went out and in. 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 " Come hitherward my maidens all, { 
 
 And sip red wine anon ; 
 Till I go to my west window, 
 
 And hear a birdie's moan." 
 
 She's gane unto her west window 
 
 And fainly aye it drew ; 
 And soon into her white silk lap, 
 
 The bird the letter threw : 
 
 " Te're bidden send your love a send, 
 
 For he has sent you twa, 
 And tell him where he can see you, 
 
 Or he cannot live ava." 
 
 " I send him the rings from my white fingers, 
 
 The garlands of my hair, 
 I send him the heart that 's in my breast, 
 
 What would my love have mair ? 
 And at the fourth kirk in fair Scotland, 
 
 Yell bid him meet me there." 
 
 She hied her to her father dear, 
 
 As fast as gang could she; 
 " An asking, an asking, my father dear, 
 
 An asking ye grant me, 
 That if I die in fair England, 
 
 In Scotland gar bury me. 
 
 " At the first kirk of fair Scotland, 
 
 You cause the bells be rung ; 
 At the second kirk of fair Scotland, 
 
 You cause the mass be sung. 
 
 " At the third kirk of fair Scotland, 
 
 You deal gold for my sake, 
 And at the fourth kirk of fair Scotland, 
 
 Oh ! there you'll bury me at. 
 
 " And now, my tender father dear, 
 
 This asking grant you me ; " 
 "Your asking is but small," he said, 
 
 " Weel granted it shall be." 
 
 [The lady asks the same boon and receives a 
 similar answer, first from her mother, then from 
 aer sister, and lastly from her seven brothers.] 
 
 Then down as dead that lady drapp'd, 
 
 Beside her mother's knee ; 
 Then out it spak' an auld witch wife, 
 
 By the fire side sat she. 
 
 Says — "drap the het lead on her cheek, 
 
 And drap it on her chin ; 
 And drap it on her rose red lips, 
 
 And she will speak again ; 
 For much a lady young will do, 
 
 To her true love to win." 
 
 They drapp'd the het lead on her cheek, 
 
 So did they on her chin ; 
 They drapp'd it on her red rose lips, 
 
 But they breathed none again. 
 
 Her brothers they went to a room, 
 
 To make to her a bier ; 
 The boards of it were cedar wood, 
 
 And the plates on it gold so clear. 
 
 Her sisters they went to a room, 
 
 To make to her a sark ; 
 The cloth of it was satin fine, 
 
 And the steeking silken wark. 
 
 " But well is me my Jolly Goss-hawk, 
 
 That ye can speak and flee ; 
 Come show to me any love tokens, 
 
 That you have brought to me." 
 
 " She sends you the rings from her fingers, 
 
 The garlands from her hair , 
 She sends you the heart within her breast, 
 
 And what would ye have mair ? 
 And at the fourth kirk of fair Scotland, 
 
 She bids you meet her there." 
 
 " Come hither all my merry young men, 
 And drink the good red wine, 
 
 For we must on to fair England, 
 To free my love from pine." 
 
 At the first kirk of fair Scotland, 
 
 They gart the bells be rung ; 
 At the second kirk of fair Scotland, 
 
 They gart the mass be sung. 
 
 At the third kirk of fair Scotland, 
 They dealt gold for her sake ; 
 
 And the fourth kirk of fair Scotland, 
 Her true love met them at. 
 
 " Set down, set down the corpse,' 
 " Till I look on the dead; 
 
 The last time that I saw her face, 
 She ruddy was and red ; 
 
 But now alas, and woe is me, 
 She 's wallowed like a weed." 
 
 he 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 9 
 
 «sent for the Maid of Norway, now Queen of 
 Scotland, and that she most unfortunately died 
 at Orkney on her way to her kingdom, leaving 
 the country to all the miseries of a disputed suc- 
 cession, and for ever blasting a scheme which 
 had been concerted of marrying the young 
 Queen to Edward prince of Wales, son of Ed- 
 ward I. of England — a marriage which might 
 have prevented centuries of contention and 
 bloodshed. Motherwell, on the other hand, 
 thinks that the ballad records an event some- 
 what earlier, namely, the melancholy fate of the 
 gallant band which followed in the suite of Mar- 
 garet, daughter of Alexander III., when she 
 was espoused to Eric of Norway. In this expe- 
 dition, many nobles perished in a storm, when 
 on their return from Norway to Scotland. Johu 
 Finlay, again, in his collection, doubting the 
 claim of the ballad to such high antiquity from 
 its mention of hats and cork-heeled shoon, sug- 
 gests that it may refer to the reign of James III., 
 who married a daughter of the king of Norway. 
 
 These different suppositions as to the histori- 
 cal event upon which the ballad is founded need 
 not be any longer insisted on, as it is now very 
 satisfactorily established, so far as internal and 
 circumstantial evidence can go, that the ballad 
 itself belongs to comparatively modern times, 
 and that it was written by the authoress of 
 Hardyknute, Lady Wardlaw, wife of Sir 
 Henry Wardlaw of Pitreavie and Balmule, near 
 Dunfermline, and daughter of Sir Charles Hal- 
 ket of Pitferran. This lady, of whom we shall 
 have occasion to speak further when we come to 
 quote Hardyknute, was born in 1677, married 
 in 1696, and died in 1727. Percy was the first 
 to print Sir Patrick Spens in his Reliques, 1765, 
 where he says that it is given from two MS. 
 copies transmitted to him from Scotland. He 
 also remarks in a note, that "an ingenious 
 friend thinks the author of Hardyknute has 
 borrowed several expressions and sentiments 
 from the foregoing and other old Scottish songs 
 in this collection." Upon this hint and also 
 from the localities of Dunfermline and Aber- 
 dour, in the neighbourhood of Sir Henry Ward- 
 law's seat, being mentioned in the ballad, Mr 
 David Laing, in his Notes to the new edition of 
 Johnson's Museum (1839,) was led to surmise 
 that Sir Patrick Spens might have been writ- 
 ten by Lady Wardlaw herself, as well as Hardy- 
 Of . this supposed voyage, however, history gives II knute. A comparison of the two ballads will, 
 no account, but after the death of Alexander ij we think, persuade every reader of the accuracy 
 III., (12S5) it is well known ambassadors were JK- of this conjecture, confirmed as it is by other cir- 
 
 He rent the sheet upon her face, 
 
 A little aboon her chin ; 
 With lilv white cheek, and lemin' eyne, 
 
 She lookt and laugh'd to him. 
 
 " Give me a chive of your bread, my love, 
 
 A bottle of your wine, 
 For I have fasted for your love, 
 
 These weary lang days nine ; 
 There's not a steed in your stable, 
 
 But would have been dead ere syne. 
 
 "Gae hame, gae hame my seven brothers, 
 Gae hame and blaw the horn ; 
 
 For you can say in the south of England, 
 Your sister gave you a scorn. 
 
 " I came not here to fair Scotland, 
 
 To lye amang the meal ; 
 But I came here to fair Scotland, 
 
 To wear the silks so weel. 
 
 " I came not here to fair Scotland, 
 
 To lye amang the dead ; 
 But I came here to fair Scotland, 
 
 To wear the gold so red." 
 
 Obit Patdcfe jlpog. 
 
 [The grand old ballad of Sir Patrick Spens, as 
 Coleridge calls it in one of his Odes, is generally i 
 placed first in our ballad collections, partly on j 
 account of its intrinsic merits, but chiefly from j 
 a persuasion that it had more undoubted claims 
 to antiquity than almost any other. The subject j 
 of it unquestionably belongs to a remote age, | 
 and until of late years no suspicion existed but 
 that the ballad itself was also of very ancient 
 date. Several different theories as to the pre- | 
 eise expedition which it celebrates have been 
 ventured upon by ballad collectors. Sir Walter 
 Scott thinks that it relates to a voyage to Nor- 
 way made by command of Alexander III. of 
 Scotland, when bereaved of his own children, to 
 bring home his grand-daughter, Margaret, called 
 the Maid ofNormay, the only offspring cf Eric, 
 king of Norway, and a daughter of Alexander's, 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 10 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 cumstances. (See No. 588 of Chambers' Jour- { 
 
 > They hadna been a week, a week 
 
 
 
 nal, May 6, 1843, where this point is handled at 
 
 In Noroway, but twae, 
 
 
 
 some length.) 
 
 When that the lords o' Noroway 
 
 
 
 The copy of Sir Patrick Spens given in the 
 
 Began aloud to say — 
 
 
 
 Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border is more com- 
 
 
 
 
 plete than that of Percy's — and we here follow 
 
 " Ye Scottishmen spend a' our king's goud, 
 
 
 
 it. We also give Mr Peter Buchan's version of 
 
 And a' our queenis fee." — 
 
 
 
 the ballad, which differs materially from all 
 
 "Ye lie, ye lie, ye liars loud ! 
 
 
 
 others, and which he says was taken down from 
 
 Fu' loud I hear ye lie; 
 
 
 
 " a wight of Homer's craft." If, however, Lady 
 
 
 
 
 Wardlaw was the author of the original ballad, 
 
 " For I ha'e brought as much white monie, 
 
 
 
 more reliance is to be placed on what is to be 
 
 As gane my men and me, 
 
 
 
 found in Percy and Scott than on what is to be 
 
 And I ha'e brought a half-fou of gude red 
 
 
 
 gathered from oral tradition.] . 
 
 Out o'er the sea wi' me. [goud. 
 
 
 
 The king sits in Dunfermline town, 
 
 " Make ready, make ready, my merrymen a'! 
 
 
 
 Drinking the blude-red wine; 
 
 Our gude ship sails the morn." — 
 
 
 
 " whare will I get a skeely skipper, 
 
 " Now, ever alake, my master dear, 
 
 
 
 To sail this ne»v ship o' mine !" — 
 
 I fear a deadly storm ! 
 
 
 
 up and spake an eldern knight, 
 
 "I saw the new moon, late yestreen, 
 
 
 
 Sat at the king's right knee, — ' ! 
 
 Wi' the auld moon in her arm ; 
 
 
 
 " Sir Patrick Spens is the best sailor, 
 
 And, if we gang to sea, master, 
 
 
 
 That ever sail'd the sea." — 
 
 I fear we'll come to harm." 
 
 
 
 Our king has written a braid letter, 
 
 They hadna sail'd a league, a league, 
 
 
 
 And seal'd it with his hand, 
 
 A league but barely three, [loud, 
 
 
 
 And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens, 
 
 When the lift grew dark, and the wind blew 
 
 
 
 Was walking on the strand. 
 
 And gurly grew the sea. 
 
 
 
 "To Noroway, to Noroway, 
 
 The ankers brak, and the topmasts lap, 
 
 
 
 To Noroway o'er the faem ; 
 
 It was sic a deadly storm ; 
 
 
 
 The king's daughter of Noroway, 
 
 And the waves cam o'er the broken ship, 
 
 
 
 'Tis thou maun bring her hame." — 
 
 Till a' her sides were torn. 
 
 
 
 The first word that Sir Patrick read, 
 
 " where will I get a gude sailor, 
 
 
 
 Sae loud loud laughed he ; 
 
 To take my helm in hand, 
 
 
 
 The neist word that Sir Patrick read, 
 
 Till I get up to the tall top-mast, 
 
 
 
 The tear blinded his e'e. 
 
 To see if I car; spy land ?" 
 
 
 
 " wha is this has done this deed, 
 
 " here am I, a sailor gude, 
 
 
 
 And tauld the king o' me, 
 
 To take the helm in hand, 
 
 
 
 To send us out, at this time of the year, 
 
 Till you go up to the tall top-mast ; 
 
 
 
 To sail upon the sea ? 
 
 But I fear you'll ne'er spy land."— 
 
 
 
 " Be it wind, be it weet, be it hail, be it sleet, 
 
 He hadna gane a step, a step, 
 
 
 
 Our ship must sail the faem ; 
 
 A step but barely ane, 
 
 
 
 The king's daughter of Noroway, 
 
 When a boult flew out of our goodly ship, 
 
 
 
 •Tis we must fetch her hame." — 
 
 And the salt sea it came in 
 
 
 
 They hoysed their sails on Monenday morn, 
 
 " Gae, fetch a web o' the silken claith, 
 
 
 
 Wi' a' the speed they may ; 
 
 Another o' the twine, 
 
 
 
 They ha'e landed in Noroway, 
 
 And wap them into our ship's side, 
 
 
 
 Upon a Wodensday. ^ 
 
 ? And let nae the sea come in."— 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. \\ 
 
 
 They feteh'd a web o' the silken claith, i 
 
 *; He sent this, not wi' an auld man, 
 
 
 Another o" the twine, [side, 
 
 Nor yet a simple boy, 
 
 
 And they wapp'd them round that gude ship's 
 
 But the best o' nobles in his train 
 
 
 But still the sea came in. 
 
 This letter did convoy. 
 
 
 laith, laith, were our gude Soots lords 
 
 When Patrick look'd the letter upon 
 
 
 To weet their cork-heel'd shoon ! 
 
 A light laugh then ga'e he ; 
 
 
 But lang or a' the play was play'd, 
 
 But ere he read it till an end, 
 
 
 They wat their hats aboon. 
 
 The tear blinded his e'e. 
 
 
 And mony was the feather bed, 
 
 Te'll eat and drink, my merry men a'. 
 
 
 That floated on the faem ; 
 
 An' see ye be weell thorn ; 
 
 
 And mony was the gude lord's son, 
 
 For blaw it weet, or blaw it wind, 
 
 
 That never mair cam hame. 
 
 My guid ship sails the morn. 
 
 
 The ladyes wrang their fingers white, 
 
 Then out it speaks a guid auld man, 
 
 
 The maidens tore their hair, 
 
 A guid death mat he dee, — 
 
 
 A' for the sake of their true loves,— 
 
 "Whatever ye do, my guid master, 
 
 
 For them they'll see nae mair. 
 
 Tak' God your guide to bee. 
 
 
 lang, lang, may the ladyes sit, 
 
 For late yestreen I saw the new moon, 
 
 
 Wi' their fans into their hand, 
 
 The auld moon in her arm. 
 
 
 Before they see Sir Patrick Spens 
 
 Ohon, alas! says Patrick Spens, 
 
 
 Come sailing to the strand ! 
 
 That bodes a deadly storm. 
 
 
 And lang, lang, may the maidens sit, 
 
 But I maun sail the seas the morn, 
 
 
 "With their goud kaims in their hair, 
 
 And likewise sae maun you ; 
 
 
 A' waiting for their ain dear loves ! 
 
 To Noroway, wi' our king's daughter, — 
 
 
 For them they'll see nae mair. 
 
 A chosen queen she's now. 
 
 
 Half owre, half owre to Aberdour, 
 
 But I wonder who has been sae base, 
 
 
 'Tis fifty fathoms deep, 
 
 As tauld the king o' mee: 
 
 
 And there lies gude Sir Patrick Spena, 
 
 Even though he ware my ae brither, 
 
 
 Wi' the Scots lords at his feet! 
 
 An ill death mat he dee 
 
 
 
 
 Now Patrick he rigg'd out his ship, 
 And sailed o'er the faem ; 
 
 
 SIR PATRICK SPENS. 
 
 But mony a dreary thought had he, 
 
 
 [From Buchan's Ballads of the North.] 
 
 "While he was on the main. 
 
 
 Thb king sits in Dunfermline town, 
 
 They hadna sail'd upon the sea 
 
 
 A' drinking at the wine, 
 
 A day but barely three ; 
 
 
 Says, "Where will I get a good skipper 
 
 Till they came in sight o' Noroway, 
 
 
 "Will sail the saut seas fine ? 
 
 It's there where they must be. 
 
 
 Out it speaks an eldren knight 
 
 They hadna stayed into that place 
 
 
 Amang the companie, — 
 
 A month but and a day, 
 
 
 Toung Patrick Spens is the best skipper 
 
 Till he caus'd the flip in mugs gae roun", 
 
 
 That ever sail'd the sea. 
 
 And wine in cans sae gay ; 
 
 
 The king he wrote a braid letter 
 
 The pipe and harp sae sweetly play'd, 
 
 
 And seal'd it wi' his ring ; 
 
 The trumpets loudly soun' ; 
 
 
 Says, Ye'll gi'e that to Patrick Spens, 
 
 In every hall wherein they stay'd, 
 
 
 See if ye can him find. i 
 
 5 "Wi' their mirth did reboun'. 
 
 

 
 12 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 Then out it speaks an auld skipper, vft It's even ower by Aberdour 
 
 
 An inbearing dog was he, — 
 
 It's fifty fathoms deep, 
 
 
 Ye've stay'd ower lang in Noroway, 
 
 And yonder lies Sir Patrick Spens, 
 
 
 Spending your king's monie. 
 
 And a's men at his feet. 
 
 
 Then out it speaks Sir Patrick Spens,— 
 
 Its even ower by Aberdour, 
 
 
 how can a' this be ? 
 
 There's mony a craig and fin, 
 
 
 I ha'e a bow o' guid red gowd 
 
 And yonder lies Sir Patrick Spens, 
 
 
 Into my ship wi' rne. 
 
 Wi' mony a guid lord's son. 
 
 
 But betide me well, betide me wae, 
 
 Lang, lang will the ladyes look 
 
 
 This day I'se leave the shore ; 
 
 Into their morning weed, 
 
 
 And never spend my king's monie 
 
 Before they see young Patrick Spens 
 
 
 'Mong Noroway dogs no more. 
 
 Come sailing ower the flood. 
 
 
 Young Patrick he is on the sea 
 
 Lang, lang will the ladyes look 
 
 
 And even on the faem ; 
 
 Wi' their fans in their hand, 
 
 
 Wi' five-an-fifty Scots lords' sons, 
 
 Before they see him, Patrick Spe n 
 
 
 That lang'd to be at name. 
 
 Come sailing to dry land. 
 
 
 They hadna sail'd upon the sea 
 
 
 
 
 A day but barely three ; 
 
 
 
 Till loud and boisterous grew the wind, 
 And stormy grew the sea. 
 
 %m$ chre. 
 
 
 where will I get a little wee boy 
 
 [This fine modern ballad is by Alfred Ten- 
 
 
 Will tak' my helm in hand, 
 
 nyson. The author says it was suggested by 
 
 
 Till I gae up to my tapmast, 
 
 Miss Ferrier's novel, "The Inheritance."] 
 
 
 And see for some dry land ? 
 
 Lord Ronald courted Lady Clare, 
 
 
 He hadna gane to his tapmast 
 
 I trow they did not part in scorn ; 
 
 
 A step but barely three ; 
 
 Lord Ronald, her cousin, courted her, 
 
 
 Ere thro' and thro' the bonnie ship's side, 
 
 And they will wed the morrow morn 
 
 
 He saw the green haw-sea. 
 
 " He does not love me for my birth, 
 
 
 There are five-an'-fifty feather beds 
 
 Nor for my lands so broad and fair; 
 
 
 Well packed in ae room ; 
 
 He loves me for my own true worth, 
 
 
 And ye'll get as muckle guid canvas 
 
 And that is well," said lady Clare. 
 
 
 As wrap the ship a' roun' ; 
 
 In there came old Alice the nurse, 
 
 
 Ye'll pict her well, and spare her not, 
 
 Said, " Who was this that went from 
 
 
 And mak' her hale and soun'. 
 
 " It was my cousin," said lady Clare, [thee P" 
 
 
 But ere he had the word well spoke 
 
 " To-morrow he weds with me." 
 
 
 The bonnie ship was down. 
 
 " God be thank'd !" said Alice the nurse. 
 
 
 laith, laith were our guid lords' sons 
 
 " That all comes round so just and fair: 
 
 
 To weet their milk-white hands ; 
 
 Lord Ronald is heir of all your lands. 
 
 
 But lang ere a' the play was ower 
 
 And you are not the lady Clare. ;> 
 
 
 They wat their gowden bands. 
 
 " Are ye out of your mind, my nursc> my 
 
 
 laith, laith were our Scots lords' sons 
 
 nurse ?" 
 
 
 To weet their coal-black shoon ; 
 
 Said lady Clare, " that ye speak so wild." 
 
 
 But lang ere a' the play was ower 
 
 " As God 's above !" said Alice the nurse 
 
 
 They wat their hats aboon. ^ 
 
 } " I speak the truth : you are my child. 
 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 13 
 
 " The old Earl's daughter died at my breast ; 
 
 I speak the truth, as I live by bread ! 
 I buried her like my own sweet child, 
 And put my child in her stead." 
 
 " Falsely, falsely have ye done, 
 
 mother," she said, " if this be true, 
 To keep the best man under the sun 
 
 So many years from his due." 
 
 " Nay now, my child," said Alice the nurse, 
 " But keep the secret for your life, 
 
 And all you have will be lord Ronald's, 
 When you are man and wife." 
 
 " If I'm a beggar born," she said, 
 " I will speak out, for I dare not lie. 
 
 Pull off, pull off, the broach of gold, 
 And fling that diamond necklace by." 
 
 "Nay now, my child," said Alice the nurse, 
 "But keep the secret all ye can." 
 
 She said, " Not so • but I will know 
 If there be any faith in man." 
 
 " Nay now, what faith ?" said Alice the nurse, 
 " The man will cleave unto his right." 
 
 '■ And he shall have it," the lady replied, 
 " Though I should die to-night." 
 
 " Yet give one kiss to your mother dear ; 
 
 Alas, my child, I sinn'd for thee." 
 " O mother, mother, mother," she said, 
 
 " So strange it seems to me. 
 
 " Yet here's a kiss for my mother dear, 
 
 My mother dear, if this be so, 
 And lay your hand upon my head, 
 
 And bless me, mother, ere I go." 
 
 She clad herself in a russet gown, 
 
 She was no longer lady Clare : 
 She went by dale, and she went by down, 
 
 "With a single rose in her hair. 
 
 Down stept lord Ronald from his tower : 
 " O lady Clare, you shame your worth ! 
 
 "Why come you drest like a village maid, 
 That are the flower of the earth ?" 
 
 " If I come drest like a village maid, 
 
 1 am but as my fortunes are : 
 I am a beggar born," she said, 
 
 " And not the lady Clare." 
 
 " Play me no tricks," said lord Ronald, 
 " For I am yours in word and in deed. 
 
 " Play me no tricks," said lord Ronald, 
 " Your riddle is hard to read." 
 
 and proudly stood she up ! 
 
 Her heart within her did not fail: 
 She look'd into lord Ronald's eyes, 
 
 And told him all her nurse's tale. 
 
 He laugh'd a laugh of merry scorn : 
 
 He turn'd, and kiss'd her where she stood, 
 
 " If you are not the heiress born, 
 
 " And I," said he, " the next in blood- - 
 
 " If you are not the heiress born, 
 And I," said he, " the lawful heir, 
 
 "We two will wed to-morrow morn, 
 And you shall still be lady Clare." 
 
 USarl Mk|art^ Hamglto, 
 
 [From Buchan's Ballads of the North.] 
 
 Earl Richard had but ae daughter, 
 
 A maid o' birth and fame ; 
 She loved her father's kitchen boy,— 
 
 The greater was her shame. 
 
 But she could ne'er her true love see, 
 Nor with him could she talk, 
 
 In towns where she had wont to go, 
 Nor fields where she could walk. 
 
 But it fell ance upon a day, 
 Her father went from home ; 
 
 She's call'd upon the kitchen boy, 
 To come and clean her room. 
 
 " Come sit ye down by me, Willie, 
 
 Come sit ye down by me ; 
 There's nae a lord in a' the north 
 
 That I can love but thee." 
 
 " Let never the like be heard, lady. 
 
 Nor let it ever be ; 
 For if your father get word o' this. 
 
 He will gar hang me hie." 
 

 
 
 J[4 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 
 '• ye shall ne'er be hang'd, "Willie, i 
 Your blude shall ne'er be drawn; 
 
 111 lay my life in pledge o' thine, 
 Your body's ne'er get wrang." 
 
 i They had not sail'd upon the sea 
 A week but barely three, 
 When came a prosperous gale of wind.. — 
 On Spain's coast landed he. 
 
 
 
 " Excuse me now, my comely dame, 
 
 No langer here I'll stay; 
 You know my time is near expir'd, 
 
 And now I must away. 
 
 A lady lay o'er castle wa', 
 Beholding dale and down ; 
 
 And she beheld the bonnie ship 
 Come sailing to the town. 
 
 
 
 " The master-cook will on me call, 
 And answered he must be; 
 
 If I am found in bower with thee, 
 Great anger will there be." 
 
 " Come here, come here, my Maries a', 
 
 Ye see not what I see ; 
 For here I see the bonniest ship 
 
 That ever sail'd the sea. 
 
 
 
 " The master-cook will on you call, 
 But shall not answer'd be ; 
 
 I'll put you in a higher place 
 Than any cook's degree. 
 
 " In her there is the bravest squire 
 That e'er my eyes did see ; 
 
 All clad in silk, and rich attire, 
 And comely, comely's he. 
 
 
 
 "I have a coffer full of gold, 
 Another of white monie; 
 
 And I will build a tonnie ship, 
 And set my love to sea. 
 
 " busk, busk, my Maries all, 
 O busk and make ye fine; 
 
 And we will on to yon shore side, 
 Invite yon squire to dine. 
 
 
 
 " Silk shall be your sailing clothes, 
 
 Gold yellow in your hair ; 
 As white like milk are your twa hands, 
 
 Your body neat and fair " 
 
 " Will ye come up to my castle 
 Wi' me, and take your dine ? 
 
 And ye shall eat the gude white bread. 
 And drink the claret wine." 
 
 
 
 This lady, with her fair speeches, 
 She made the boy grow bold ; 
 
 And he began to kiss and clap, 
 And on his love lay hold. 
 
 " I thank you for your bread, lady, 
 1 thank you for your wine ; 
 
 I thank you for your kind offer, 
 But now I have not time." 
 
 
 
 Aiid she has built a bonnie ship, 
 Set her love to the sea ; 
 
 Seven score o' brisk young men, 
 To bear him companie. 
 
 " 1 would gi'e all my land," she sayr, 
 " Your gay bride were I she; 
 
 And then to live on a small portion, 
 Contented 1 would be." 
 
 
 
 Then she's ta'en out a gay gold ring, 
 
 To him she did it gi'e : 
 " This will mind you on the ladie, Willie, 
 
 That's laid her love on thee." 
 
 " She's far awa' frae me, lady, 
 
 She's far awa' frae me. 
 That has my heart a-keeping fast, 
 
 And my love still she'll be." 
 
 
 
 Then he's ta'en out a piece of gold, 
 
 And he brake it in two ; 
 " All I have in the world, my dame. 
 
 For love, I give to you." 
 
 " But ladies they are unconstant, 
 When their love6 go to sea ; 
 
 And she'll be wed ere ye gae back, 
 My love, pray stay wi' me." 
 
 
 
 Now he is to his bonnie ship, 
 
 And merrily ta'tn the sea; 
 Tbe lady lay o'er castle wa', 
 
 The tear blinded her e'c. ^ 
 
 " If she be wed ere I go back, 
 And prove sae false to me, 
 I shall live single all my life, — 
 5 I'll ne'er wed one but she." 
 
 
 
 — [ 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 15 
 
 
 Then she's ta'en out a gay gold ring, ', 
 
 And ga'e him presentlie ; 
 " 'Twill mind you on the lady, young man, 
 
 That laid her love on thee." 
 
 ^ " Will ye come up to my castle 
 With me, and take your dine ? 
 And ye shall eat the gude white bread. 
 And drink the claret wine." 
 
 
 
 " The ring that's on my mid-finger 
 
 Is far dearer to me, 
 Though yours were .0' the gude red gold, 
 
 And mine the metal free." 
 
 " Yes, I'll come up to your castle 
 With you, and take my dine ; 
 
 For I would give my bonnie ship 
 Were your fair daughter mine." 
 
 
 
 He view'd them all, baith neat and small, 
 
 As they stood on the shore ; 
 Then hoist the mainsail to the wind, 
 
 Adieu, for evermore ! 
 
 " I would give all my lands," he said, 
 " That your bride she would be; 
 
 Then to live on a small portion, 
 Contented would 1 be." 
 
 
 
 He had not sail'd upon the sea 
 A week but barely three, 
 
 Until there came a prosperous gale, 
 In Scotland landed he. 
 
 As they gaed up from yon sea strand, 
 And down the bowling green, 
 
 He drew the mask out o'er his face, 
 For fear he should be seen. 
 
 
 
 But he put paint upon his face, 
 And oil upon his hair; 
 
 Likewise a mask above his brow, 
 Which did disguise him sair. 
 
 He's done him down from bower to bower, 
 
 Likewise from bower to ha' ; 
 And there he saw that lady gay, 
 
 The flower out o'er them a'. 
 
 
 
 Earl Richard lay o'er castle wa', 
 Beholding dale and down ; 
 
 And he beheld the bonnie ship 
 Come sailing to the town. 
 
 He's ta'en her in his arms twa, 
 And hail'd her courteouslie; 
 
 " Excuse me, sir, there's no strange man 
 Such freedom use with me." 
 
 
 
 " Come here, come here, my daughter dear, 
 
 Ye see not what I see ; 
 For here I see the bonniest ship 
 
 That ever sail'd the sea. 
 
 Her father turn'd him round about, 
 A light laugh then gave he ; 
 
 " Stay, I'll retire a little while, 
 Perhaps you may agree." 
 
 
 
 " In her there is the bravest squire 
 That e'er my eyes did see ; 
 
 O busk, busk, my daughter dear, 
 Come here, come here, to me. 
 
 Now Willie's ta'en a gay gold ring, 
 And gave her presentlie; 
 
 Says, " Take ye that, ye lady fair, 
 A lo>e token from me." 
 
 
 
 " busk, busk, my daughter dear, 
 busk, and make ye fine ; 
 
 And we will on to the shore side, 
 Invite yon squire to dine." 
 
 " got ye't on the sea sailing ? 
 
 Or got ye't on the sand ? 
 Or got ye't on the coast of Spain, 
 
 Upon a dead man's hand t" 
 
 
 
 " He's far awa' frae me, father, 
 
 He's far awa' frae me, 
 Who has the keeping 0' my heart, 
 
 And I'll wed nane but he." 
 
 " Fine silk it was his sailing clothes, 
 
 Gold yellow was his hair; 
 It would ha'e made a hale heart bleed 
 
 To see him lying there." 
 
 
 
 " Whoever has your heart in hand, 
 
 Yon lad's the match for thee ; 
 And he shall come to my castle 
 
 This day, and dine wi' me." \ 
 
 " He was not dead as I pass'd by 
 
 But no rerneid cuuld be ; 
 He gave me this token to bear 
 "? Unto a fair ladie. 
 
 

 
 16 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 
 " And by the marks he has descryv'd, 4fe Earle of Huntley was only the instrument of per- 
 
 
 
 I'm sure that you are she ; 
 
 petratting this facte, to satisffie the Kinges 
 
 
 
 So take this token of free will, 
 
 jelosie of Murray, quhom the Queine, more rash- 
 
 
 
 For him you'll never see." 
 
 lie than wyslie, some few dayes before had com- 
 mendit in the Kinges heiringe, with too many 
 
 
 
 In sorrow she tore her mantle, 
 
 epithettsof a proper and gallant man. The res- 
 
 
 
 With care she tore her hair ; 
 
 sons of these surmisses proceidit from proclama- 
 
 
 
 "Now since I've lost my own true love, 
 
 tione of the Kinges the 18 of Marche following, 
 
 
 
 I'll ne'er love young men mair." 
 
 inhibitting the younge Earle of Murray to per- 
 sew the Earle of Huntley for his fathers slaugh- 
 
 
 
 He drew the mask from off his face, 
 
 ter, in respecte he being wardit in the castell of 
 
 
 
 The lady sweetly smiled ; 
 
 Blacknesse for the same murther, was willing to 
 
 
 
 "Awa 1 , awa', ye fause "Willie, 
 
 abyde his tryell; averring that he had done 
 
 
 
 How have you me beguiled ?" 
 
 nothing, bot by the King's Dial™ commissione : 
 and so was neither airt nor pairt of the mur- 
 
 
 
 Earl Eichard he went through the ha', 
 
 ther." — Annates of Scotland by Sir James Bal- 
 
 
 
 The wine glass in his hand; 
 
 four, Vol. I. Edin., 1824.] 
 
 
 
 But little thought his kitchen boy 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 Was heir o'er a' his land. 
 
 Ye Highlands, and ye Law-lands, 
 Oh ! quhair ha'e ye been ? 
 
 
 
 But this she kept within her heart, 
 
 They ha'e slaine the Earl of Murray, 
 
 
 
 And never told to one ; 
 
 And ha'e lain him on the green. 
 
 
 
 Until nine months they were expir'd 
 
 • 
 
 
 
 That her young son came home. 
 
 Now wae be to thee, Huntly : 
 And quhairfore did you sae? 
 
 
 
 She told it to her father dear; 
 
 I bade you bring him wi' you, 
 
 
 
 He said, " Daughter, well won; 
 
 But forbade you him to slay. 
 
 
 
 You've marrii d for love, not for gold, 
 
 
 
 
 Your joys will ne'er be donei." 
 
 He was a braw gallant, 
 
 And he rid at the ring; 
 And the bonnie Earl of Murray, 
 
 
 
 
 Oh ! he might ha'e been a king. 
 
 
 
 ®f5£ hmnu Had of J^Iiwag. 
 
 He was a braw gallant, 
 
 And he play'd at the ba' ; 
 And the bonnie Earl of Murray 
 
 
 
 [" James, Earl of Murray, the subject of this 
 
 Was the flower amang them a'. 
 
 
 
 ballad, was a son of Lord Downe, but acquired 
 
 
 
 
 the title of Moray by marrying Elizabeth, eldest 
 
 He was a braw gallant, 
 
 
 
 daughter of the celebrated Regent .Moray. He 
 
 And he play'd at the gluve, 
 
 
 
 was thought to be the handsomest man of his 
 
 And the bonnie Earl of Murray, 
 
 
 
 time ; and it would appear from the ballad, that 
 
 Oh ! he was the queenes luve. 
 
 
 
 he was skilled in those chivalric accomplishments 
 
 
 
 
 which are so well fitted to set off a good figure to 
 
 Oh ! lang will his lady 
 
 
 
 advantage. There is even a suspicion that he 
 
 Look owre the castle Downe,* 
 
 
 
 was a gallant of the queen, Anne of Denmark, 
 
 Ere she see the Earl of M urray 
 
 
 
 then recently brought over to Scotland ; but this 
 
 Cum sounding through the towne. 
 
 
 
 seems to be countenanced by little else than the 
 
 
 
 
 ballad.'' — Chambers. 
 
 * Doune Castle, in Menteith, now in ruins, but 
 
 
 
 " The 7 of February this zeire, 1592, the Ear'e 
 
 still the property of the noble family of Moray. 
 
 
 
 of Murray was cruelly murthered by the Earle of 
 
 It may be mentioned, that Dunnibrissle, where 
 
 
 
 Huntly, at his house in Dunibrissell, in Fyffe- 
 
 the murder happened, was the seat of the earl's 
 
 
 
 shyre, and with him Dumbar, Sbriffe of Murray ; 
 
 mother; and that he was only there on a visit. 
 
 
 
 it [was] given out, and publickly talked that the ^ 
 
 f. Chambers. 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 17 
 
 
 i 
 
 * liTming OTateijS. 
 
 
 
 THE BONNIE EARL OF MURRAY. 
 
 [Supposed, like the two former ballads, to refer 
 to the fate of the unfortunate Earl of Murray.] 
 
 
 
 [Another "Version.] 
 
 About Zule quhen the wind blew cule, 
 And the round tables began ; 
 
 
 
 Open the gates, 
 
 A ! there is cum to our king's court, 
 
 
 
 And let him come in , 
 
 Money a well-favour'd man. 
 
 
 
 He is my brother Huntly, 
 
 
 
 
 He'll do him nae harm. 
 
 The queen luikit owre the castle wa', 
 Beheld baith dale and down, 
 
 
 
 The gates they were open't, 
 
 And there she saw the young Waters, 
 
 
 
 They let him come in ; 
 
 Cum riding to the town. 
 
 
 
 But fause traitor Huntly, 
 
 
 
 
 He did him great harm. 
 
 His footmen they did rin before, 
 His horsemen rade behind, 
 
 
 
 He's ben and ben, 
 
 And mantel of the burning gowd 
 
 
 
 And ben to his bed ; 
 
 Did keep him frae the wind. 
 
 
 
 And with a sharp rapier, 
 
 
 
 
 He stabbed him dead. 
 
 Gowden graith'd his horse before, 
 And siller shod behind ; 
 
 
 
 The lady came down the stair, 
 
 The horse young Waters rade upon 
 
 
 
 Wringing her hands : 
 
 Was fleeter than the wind. 
 
 
 
 " He has slain the Earl o' Murray. 
 
 
 
 
 The flower o' Scotland." 
 
 Out then spak' a wylie lord, 
 Unto the queen said he : 
 
 
 
 But Huntly lap on his horse; 
 
 " O tell me quha's the fairest face 
 
 
 
 Rade to the king, 
 
 Rides in the company ?" 
 
 
 
 " Te're welcome hame, Huntly, 
 
 
 
 
 And whare ha'e ye been ? 
 
 " I've sene lord, and I've sene laird, 
 And knights of high degree, 
 
 
 
 " "Whare ha'e ye been ? 
 
 But a fairer face than young Waters', 
 
 
 
 And how ha ! e ye sped ?" 
 
 Mine eyne did never see." 
 
 
 
 " I've killed the Earl o' Murray, 
 
 
 
 
 Dead in his bed." 
 
 Out than spak' the jealous king, 
 (And an angry man was he) : 
 
 
 
 " Foul fa' you, Huntly, 
 
 " 0, if he had been twice as fair, 
 
 
 
 And why did ye so ; 
 
 Tou micht have excepted me." 
 
 
 
 Tou might ha'e ta'en the Earl of Murray, 
 
 
 
 
 And saved his life too." 
 
 " Your neither laird nor lord," she says, 
 " But the king that wears the crown; 
 
 
 
 " Her bread it's to bake, 
 
 There's not a knight in fair Scotland, 
 
 
 
 Her yill is to brew ; 
 
 But to thee maun bow down." 
 
 
 
 My sister's a widow, 
 
 
 
 
 And sair do I rue." 
 
 For a' that she could do or say, 
 Appeased he wadna be ; 
 
 
 
 " Her corn grows ripe, 
 
 But for the words which she had said, 
 
 
 
 Her meadows grow green , 
 
 Young Waters he maun die. 
 
 
 
 But in bonnie Dinnibristle, 
 
 
 
 
 I dareua be seen." 
 
 They ha'e ta'en young Waters, and 
 
 Put fetters to his feet ; 
 They ha'e ta'en young Waters, and 
 y Thrown him in dungeon deep. 
 
 B 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
18 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 " Aft I have ridden through Stirling town, 
 In the wind bot and the weit; 
 
 But I ne'er rade through Stirling town 
 Wi' fetters at my feet. 
 
 " Aft I have ridden through Stirling town, 
 In the wind bot and the rain ; 
 
 But I ne'er rode through Stirling town 
 Ne'er to return again." 
 
 They ha'e ta'en to the heiding hill, 
 
 His young son in his cradle ; 
 And they ha'e ta'en to the heiding hill, 
 
 His horse bot and the saddle. 
 
 They ha'e ta'en to the heiding hill, 
 
 His lady fair to see ; 
 And for the words the queen had spoko 
 
 Young Waters he did die. 
 
 ix ftatfjur auto Eafcg ftttM. 
 
 [Modern Ballad. — Hugh Ainslik.] 
 
 Bir Arthur's foot is on the sand, 
 
 His boat wears in the wind, 
 An* he's turn'd him to a fair foot-page 
 
 Was standing him behind. 
 
 " Gae hame, gae hame, my bonnie boy, 
 
 An' glad your mither's e'e, 
 I ha'e left anew to weep an' rue, 
 
 Sae there's nane maun weep for thee. 
 
 " An' take this to my father's ha', 
 
 An' tell him I maun speed; 
 There's fifty men in chase o' me, 
 
 An' a price upon my head. 
 
 " An' bear this to Dunellie's towers, 
 
 Where my love Annie's gane, 
 It is a lock o' my brown hair, 
 
 Girt wi' the diamond stane." 
 
 " Dunellie he has dochters five, 
 
 An' some o' them are fair; 
 Sae, how will I ken thy true love 
 
 Amang sae mony there ?" 
 
 " Ye'll ken her by the stately otep 
 
 As she gaes up the ha' ; 
 Ye'll ken her by the look o' love 
 
 That peers outowre them a'; 
 
 " Ye'll ken her by the braid o' goud 
 That spreads o'er her e'e-bree; 
 
 Ye'll ken her by the red, red cheek, 
 When ye name the name o' me. 
 
 " That cheek should lain on this breast- 
 That hame should been my ha' ; [bane — 
 
 Our tree is bow'd, our flow'r is dow'd — 
 Sir Arthur's an outlaw." 
 
 He sigh'd and turn'd him right about, 
 Where the sea lay braid and wide ; 
 
 It's no to see his bonnie boat, 
 But a wafry cheek to hide. 
 
 The page has doff'd his feather'd cap, 
 
 But an' his raven hair; 
 An' out there came the yellow locks, 
 
 Like swirls o' the gouden wair. 
 
 Syne he's undone his doublet clasp— 
 'Twas o' the grass-green hue — 
 
 An', like a lily frae the pod, 
 A lady burst to view. 
 
 "Tell out thy errand now, Sir Knight, 
 
 Wi' thy love-tokens a'; 
 If I e'er rin against my will, 
 
 It shall be at a lover's ca'." 
 
 Sir Arthur turn'd him round about, 
 
 E'en as the lady spak'; 
 An' thrice he dighted his dim e'e, 
 
 An' thrice he stepped back. 
 
 But ae blink o' her bonnie e'e, 
 
 Out spake his lady Anne ; 
 An' he's catch'd her by the waist sae sma', 
 
 Wi' the grip of a drowning man. 
 
 " O ! Lady Anne, thy bed's been hard, 
 
 When I thought it the down ; 
 O ! Lady Anne, thy love's been deep, 
 
 When I thought it was flown. 
 
 " I've met my love in the green wood— 
 
 My foe on the brown hiil : 
 But I ne'er met wi' aught before 
 
 I liked sae weel— an' ill. 
 

 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 19 
 
 " ! I could make a queen o' thee, ^ 
 
 An' it would be ray pride; 
 But, Lady Anne, it's no for thee 
 
 To be an outlaw's bride." 
 
 i And he has till his brother gane : 
 Now, brother, rede ye mee ; 
 A' sail I marrie the nut-browne bride, 
 And let fair Annet bee ? 
 
 *' Ha'e I left kith an' kin, Sir Knight, 
 
 To turn about an' rue ? 
 Ha'e I shared win' an' weet wi' thee, 
 
 That I maun leave thee now ? 
 
 The nut-browne bride has oxen, brother, 
 The nut-browne bride has kye ; 
 
 1 wad ha'e ye marrie the nut-browne bride, 
 And cast fair Annet bye. 
 
 " There's goud an' siller in this han* 
 Will buy us mony a rigg; 
 
 There's pearlings in this other han' 
 A stately tow'r to big. 
 
 Her oxen may dye i' the house, Billie, 
 And her kye into the byre; 
 
 And I sail ha'e nothing to my sell, 
 Bot a fat fadge by the fyre. 
 
 " Though thou'rt an outlaw frae this Ian', 
 The warld's braid and wide." — 
 
 " Make room, make room, my merry men, 
 For young Sir Arthur's bride !" 
 
 And he has till his sister gane : 
 
 Now, sister, rede ye mee; 
 sail I marrie the nut-browne bride, 
 
 And set fair Annet free ? 
 
 Jrak ftotiwt. 
 
 Ise rede ye tak* fair Annet, Thomas, 
 And let the browne bride alane; 
 
 Lest ye sould sigh and say, Alace l 
 What is this we brought hame ? 
 
 [Prom Percy's Collection. See the introduc- 
 tion to the following ballad, " Sweet Willie and 
 Fair Annie."] 
 
 No, I will tak' my mither's counsel, 
 And marrie me owt o' hand ; 
 
 And I will tak' the nut-browne bride 
 Fair Annet may leive the land. 
 
 Lord Thomas and fair Annet 
 
 Sate a' day on a hill ; 
 Whan night was cum, and sun was sett, 
 
 They had not talkt their fill. 
 
 Up then rose fair Annet's father 
 Twa hours or it wer day, 
 
 And he has gane into the bower, 
 Wherein fair Annet lay. 
 
 Lord Thomas saU a word in jest, 
 Fair Annet took it ill : 
 
 A'! I will never wed a wife 
 Against my ain friends wiU. 
 
 Rise up, rise up, fair Annet, he says, 
 Put on your silken sheene; 
 
 Let us gae to St Marie's kirke, 
 And see that rich weddeen. 
 
 Gif ye wull nevir wed a wife, 
 A wife wull neir wed yee. 
 
 Sae he is hame to tell his mither, 
 And knelt upon his knee : 
 
 My maides, gae to my dressing-roome, 
 
 And dress to me my hair; 
 Whair-eir yee laid a plait before, 
 
 See yee lay ten times mair. 
 
 rede, rede, mither, he says, 
 A gude rede gi'e to mee : 
 
 O sail I tak' the nut-browne bride, 
 And let fair Annet bee ? 
 
 My maides, gae to my dressing-roome, 
 And dress to me my smock; 
 
 The one half is o' the holland fine, 
 The other o' needle-work. 
 
 The nut-browne bride haes gowd and gear, 
 
 Fair Annet she's gat nane; 
 And the little beauty fair Annet has, 
 
 it wull soon be gane . i 
 
 The horse fair Annet rade upon, 
 
 He amblit like the wind, 
 Wi' siller he was shod before, 
 j Wi' burning gowd behind. 
 

 
 
 
 20 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 Four-and-twanty siller bells i 
 
 t Now stay for me, dear Annet, he sed, 
 
 
 
 Wer a' tyed till his mane, 
 
 Now stay, my dear, he cry'd ; 
 
 
 
 And yae tift o' the norland wind, 
 
 Then strake the dagger until his heart, 
 
 
 
 They tinkled ane by ane. 
 
 And fell deid by her side. 
 
 
 
 Four-and -twenty gay gude knichts 
 
 Lord Thomas was buried without the kirk. 
 
 
 
 Eade by fair Annet's side, 
 
 Fair Annet within the quiere ; [wa', 
 
 
 
 And four-and-twenty fair ladies, 
 
 And o' the tane there grew a birk, 
 
 
 
 As gin she had bin a bride. 
 
 The other a bonnie briere. 
 
 
 
 And whan she cam' to Marie's kirk, 
 
 And aye they grew, and aye they threw, 
 
 
 
 She sat on Marie's stean ; 
 
 As they wad faine be neare ; 
 
 
 
 The cleading that fair Annet had on 
 
 And by this ye may ken right well, 
 
 
 
 It skinkled in their een. 
 
 They were twa luvers deare. 
 
 
 
 And whan she cam' into the kirk, 
 
 
 
 
 
 She shimmer'd like the sun ; 
 
 
 
 
 The belt that was about her waist, 
 
 SWEET WILLIE, AND FAIR ANNIE. 
 
 
 
 "Was a' wi' pearles bedone. 
 
 [From Jamieson's Popular Ballads and Songs. 
 
 
 
 She sat her by the nut-browne bride, 
 
 " Three ballads," says Mr Jamieson, " all of 
 
 
 
 And her een they were sae clear, 
 
 them of considerable merit, on the same subject 
 
 
 
 Lord Thomas he clean forgat the bride, 
 
 as the following, are to be found in vol. iii. of 
 
 
 
 When fair Annet she drew near. 
 
 the 'Reliques of Ancient English Poetry,' under 
 the titles of Lord Thomas and Fair Elinor, Fair 
 
 
 
 He had a rose into his hand, 
 
 Margaret and Sweet William, and Lord Thomas 
 
 
 
 And he gave it kisses three, 
 
 and Fair Annet, (see above) ; the latter of which 
 
 
 
 And reaching by the nut-browne bride, 
 
 is in that work given with some corrections 
 
 
 
 Laid it on fair Annet's knee. 
 
 'from a MS. copy transmitted from Scotland,' 
 and supposed to be composed, not without im- 
 
 
 
 Up than spak' the nut-browne bride; 
 
 provements, out of the two former ancient Eng- 
 
 
 
 She spak' wi' meikle spite ; 
 
 lish ones. At this distance of time, it would be 
 
 
 
 And whar gat ye that rose-water, 
 
 ; in vain to attempt to ascertain which was the 
 
 
 
 That does mak' yee sae white ? 
 
 j original, and which the imitation; and, I think 
 it extremely probable, that, in their origin, they 
 
 
 
 I did get the rose-water 
 
 were perfectly independent of each other, and 
 
 
 
 Whair ye wull neir get nane, 
 
 both derived from some one of those tableaux, 
 
 
 
 For I did get that very rose-water 
 
 romances, or tales, which, about four or five 
 
 
 
 Into my mither's wame. 
 
 hundred years ago, were so familiarly known, in 
 various forms, over a great part of Europe, that 
 
 
 
 The bride she drew a long bodkin, 
 
 it would even then have been difficult to say to 
 
 
 
 Frae out her gay head-gear, 
 
 what country or language, they owed their birth. 
 
 
 
 And strake fair Annet unto the heart, 
 
 The text of Lord Thomas and Fair Annet seems 
 
 
 
 That word she nevir spak' mair. 
 
 to have been adjusted, previous to its leaving 
 Scotland, by some one who was more of a scho- 
 
 
 
 Lord Thomas he saw fair Annet wax pale, 
 
 lar than the reciters of ballads generally are; 
 
 
 
 And marvelit what mote bee : 
 
 and, in attempting to give it an antique cast, it 
 
 
 
 But when he saw her dear heart's blude, 
 
 has been deprived of somewhat of that easy fa- 
 
 
 
 A' woodwroth wexed hee. 
 
 cility which is the distinguished characteristic of 
 the traditionary ballad narrative. With the 
 
 
 
 He drew his dagger, that was sae sharp, 
 
 text of the following ditty, no 6uch experiment 
 
 
 
 That was sae sharp and meet, 
 
 has been made. It is here given pure and en- 
 
 
 
 And drave it into the nut-browne bride, 
 
 tire, as it was taken down by the editor, from 
 
 
 
 That fell deid at his feit. ^ 
 
 6 the recitation of a lady in Aberbrothick, (Mrs 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 21 
 
 
 
 W. Arrot,) to whose politeness and friendship $fe " There is twa maidens in a bower, 
 
 
 
 this collection is under considerable obligations. 
 
 Which o' them sail I bring hame ? 
 
 
 
 She had no previous intimation of the compiler's 
 
 The nut-brown maid has sheep and cows, 
 
 
 
 visit, or of his undertaking ; and the few hours 
 
 And fair Annie has nane." 
 
 
 
 he spent at her friendly fire-side were very busily 
 
 | 
 
 
 
 employed in writing. As she had, when a child, 
 
 It's an ye wed the nut-brown maid, 
 
 
 
 learnt the ballad from an elderly maid-servant, 
 
 I'll heap gold wi' my hand ; 
 
 
 
 and probably had not repeated it for a dozen of 
 
 But an ye wed her, fair Annie, 
 
 
 
 years before I had the good fortune to be intro- 
 
 I'll straik it wi' a wand. 
 
 
 
 duced to her; it may be depended upon, that 
 
 
 
 
 every line was recited to me as nearly as possible 
 
 " The nut-brown maid has sheep and cows, 
 
 
 
 in the exact form in which she learnt it." 
 
 And fair Annie has nane , 
 
 
 
 In the notes to the ballad, Mr Jamieson con- 
 
 And Willie, for my benison, 
 
 
 
 fesses that " line 3d of stanza 29, is an interpo- 
 
 The nut-brown maid bring hame." 
 
 
 
 lation. Instead of stanzas 30 and 31, Mrs Arrot 
 
 
 
 
 recited : 
 
 "01 sail wed the nut-browne maid, 
 
 
 
 ' Tak' up and wear your rose, "Willie, 
 
 And I sail bring her hame ; 
 
 
 
 And wear't wi' muckle care ; 
 
 But peace nor rest between us twa, 
 
 
 
 For the woman sail never bear a son, 
 
 Till death sinder's again. 
 
 
 
 That will make my heart sae sair.' 
 
 
 
 
 The whole of stanza 36— the second and third 
 
 " But, alas, alas !" says sweet Willie, 
 
 
 
 lines of stanza 40 — stanza 41, except the first line 
 
 " fair is Annie's face !" 
 
 
 
 — and the whole of stanzas 42 and 44, were also 
 
 " But what's the matter, my son Willie, 
 
 
 
 supplied by the editor. In every other instance, 
 
 She has nae ither grace." 
 
 
 
 the purity and integrity of the text was scru- 
 
 
 
 
 pulously preserved."] 
 
 "Alas, alas!" says sweet Willie; 
 " But white is Annie's hand !" 
 
 
 
 Sweet Willie and fair Annie 
 
 " But what's the matter, my son Willie, 
 
 
 
 Sat a' day on a hill ; 
 
 She hasna fur o' land." 
 
 
 
 And though they had sitten seven year, 
 
 
 
 
 They ne'er wad had their fill. 
 
 " Sheep will die in cots, mither, 
 And owsen die in byre ; 
 
 
 
 Sweet Willie said a word in haste, 
 
 And what's this warld's wealth to me, 
 
 
 
 And Annie took it ill : 
 
 An I get na my heart's desire ? 
 
 
 
 " 1 winna wed a tocherless maid, 
 
 
 
 
 Against my parent's will." 
 
 " Whar will I get a bonnie boy, 
 That wad fain win hose and shoon, 
 
 
 
 Annie she's gane till her bower, 
 
 That will rin to fair Annie's bower, 
 
 
 
 And Willie down the den ; 
 
 Wi' the lei light o' the moon ? 
 
 
 
 ADd he's come till his mither's bower. 
 
 
 
 
 By the lei light o' the moon. 
 
 Ye'll tell her to come to Willie's weddin', 
 The morn at twal at noon ; 
 
 
 
 " sleep ye, wake ye, mither •>" he says. 
 
 Ye'll tell her to come to Willie's weddin', 
 
 
 
 " Or are ye the bower within ?" 
 
 The heir o' Duplin town.* 
 
 
 
 " I sleep richt aft, I wake richt aft;* 
 What want ye wi' me, son? 
 
 
 
 
 * Duplin town. — Duplin is the seat of the earl 
 
 
 
 
 of Kinnoul, from which he derives his title of 
 
 
 
 " Whare ha'e ye been a' night, Willie; 
 
 viscount. It is in the neighbourhood of Perth. 
 
 
 
 wow ! ye've tarried lang!" 
 
 This copy of the ballad was taken from the cur- 
 
 
 
 " I have been courtin' fair Annie, 
 
 rent traditionary manner of reciting it in that 
 
 
 
 And she is frae me gane. 
 
 part of the country ; and it is observable, that 
 ballads are very frequently adapted to the meri- 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 * That is, my slumbers are short, broken, and 
 
 dian of the place where they are found ; so that 
 
 
 
 interrupted; a characteristic of age. * 
 
 % the same parts and characters are given to per« 
 
 
 
22 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 " She manna put on the black, the black, 
 Nor yet the dowie brown ; [white, 
 
 But the scarlet sae red, and the kerches sae 
 And her bonnie locks hangin' down." 
 
 He is on to Annie's bower, 
 
 And tirled at the pin ; 
 And wha was sae ready as Annie hersel, 
 
 To open and let him in. 
 
 " Ye are bidden come to "Willie's weddin', 
 
 The morn at twal at noon ; 
 Ye are bidden come to "Willie's weddin', 
 
 The heir of Duplin town. 
 
 " Ye manna put on the black, the black, 
 Nor yet the dowie brown ; [white, 
 
 But the scarlet sae red, and the kerches sae 
 And your bonnie locks hangin' down." 
 
 " It's I will come to Willie's weddin', 
 
 The morn at twal at noon ; 
 It's I will come to Willie's weddin', 
 
 But I rather the mass had been mine 
 
 " Maidens, to my bower come, 
 
 And lay gold on my hair; 
 And whare ye laid ae plait before, 
 
 Ye'll now lay ten times mair. 
 
 ' Taylors, to my bower come, 
 
 And mak' to me a weed; 
 And smiths unto my stable come, 
 
 And shoe to me a steed." 
 
 At every tate o' Annie's horse' mane 
 
 There hang a silver bell ; 
 And there came a wind out frae the south, 
 
 Which made them a' to knell. 
 
 And when she came to Mary-kirk, 
 
 And sat down in the deas, 
 The light that came frae fair Annie, 
 
 Enlighten'd a' the place. 
 
 But up and stands the nut-brown bride, 
 
 Just at her father's knee ; 
 " O wha is this, my father dear, 
 
 That blinks in Willie's e'e ?" 
 " O this is Willie's first true love, 
 
 Before he loved thee." 
 
 sons of different names and ranks in life in dif- 
 ferent parts of the country. — Jamieson. ^ 
 
 " If that be Willie's first tree love, 
 
 He might ha'e latten me be; 
 She has as much gold on ae finger, 
 
 As I'll wear till I die. 
 
 " O whare got ye that water, Annie, 
 
 That washes you sae white ?" 
 " I gotit i' my mither's wambe, 
 
 Whare ye'll ne'er get the like. 
 
 " For ye've been wash'd in Dunny'fi well, 
 
 And dried on Dunny's dyke; 
 And a' the water in the sea 
 
 Will never wash ye white." 
 
 Willie's ta'en a rose out o' his hat, 
 
 Laid it in Annie's lap ; 
 " The bonniest to the bonniest fa's, 
 
 Hae, wear it for my sake." 
 
 " Tak' up and wear your rose, Willie, 
 
 As lang as it will last ; 
 For, like your love, its sweetness a' 
 
 Will soon be gane and past. 
 
 ". Wear ye the rose o' love, Willie, 
 
 And I the thorn o' care ; 
 For the woman sail never bear a sod, 
 
 That will mak' my heart sae sair." 
 
 When night was come, and day was gane, 
 
 And al men boun' to bed, 
 Sweet Willie and the nut-brown bri&E 
 
 In their chamber were laid. 
 
 They werena weel lyen down, 
 
 And scarcely fa'n asleep, 
 Whan up and stands she, fair Annie. 
 
 Just up at Willie's feet. 
 
 " Weel brook ye o' your brown brown bride 
 
 Between ye and the wa' ; 
 And sae will I o' my winding sheet, 
 
 That suits me best ava. 
 
 " Weel brook ye o' your brown brown bride 
 
 Between ye and the stock ; 
 And sae will I o' my black black kist, 
 
 That has neither key nor lock. 
 
 " Weel brook ye o' your brown brown bride, 
 
 And o' your bridal bed ; 
 And sae will I o' the cald cald mools, 
 
 That soon will hap my head." 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 SCOTXISE BALLADS. 23 
 
 
 Sad Willie raise, put on his claise, 4k 
 
 
 
 Drew till him his hose and shoon, 
 And he is on to Annie's bower, 
 
 %nxU Wvktyzvi* 
 
 
 
 By the lei light o' the moon. 
 
 [The ballad of " Young Beichan and Susie 
 
 
 
 The firsten bower that he came till, 
 
 Pye" is common to both England and Scotland, 
 
 
 
 There was right dowie wark ; 
 
 and several different readings of it exist. The 
 
 
 
 Her mither and her three sisters 
 
 following Scottish version is from Mr Kinloch's 
 
 
 
 "Were makin' to Annie a sark. 
 
 collection, London, 1827. Mr Jamieson gives two 
 ballads founded on the same subject. The second 
 
 
 
 The nexten bower that he came till, 
 
 of these, entitled " Young Bekie," as it differs 
 
 
 
 There was right dowie cheir ; 
 
 materially from the present, we subjoin. The 
 
 
 
 Her father and her seven brethren 
 
 subject of the ballads, "Lord Beichan" or 
 
 
 
 "Were makin' to Annie a bier. 
 
 " Young Bekie" is supposed, with great proba- 
 bility, to have originated in the historical fact 
 
 
 
 The lasten bower that he came till, 
 
 of Gilbert Becket, the father of the famous Tho- 
 
 
 
 0, heavy was his care ! 
 
 mas a Becket, having been enslaved by the Sara- 
 
 
 
 The waxen lights were burning bright, 
 
 cens, and liberated through the instrumentality 
 
 
 
 And fair Annie streekit there. 
 
 of a governor's daughter, who sought him out 
 afterwards in London through many dangers 
 
 
 
 He's lifted up the coverlet, 
 
 and difficulties, and whom he made his wife. 
 
 
 
 "Where she, fair Annie, lay; 
 
 Thomas a Becket was a son of this union.] 
 
 
 
 " Sweet was her smile, but wan her cheek ; 
 
 
 
 
 Oh, wan, and cald as clay!" 
 
 Young Beichan was in London born, 
 He was a man of hie degree ; 
 
 
 
 Pale Willie grew ; wae was his heart, 
 
 He past through monie kingdoms great, 
 
 
 
 And sair he sigh'd wi' teen; 
 
 Until he cam' unto grand Turkie. 
 
 
 
 " Oh, Annie ! had I kent thy worth, 
 
 
 
 
 Ere it o'er late had been ! 
 
 He view'd the fashions of that land, 
 Their way of worship viewed he; 
 
 
 
 " It's I will kiss your bonnie cheek, 
 
 But unto onie of their stocks, 
 
 
 
 And 1 will kiss your chin ; 
 
 He wadna sae much as bow a knee : 
 
 
 
 And I will kiss your clay-cald lip ; 
 
 
 
 
 But I'll never kiss woman again. 
 
 Which made him to be taken straight, 
 And brought afore their high jurie ; 
 
 
 
 "And that I was in love out-done, 
 
 The savage Moor did speak upricht, 
 
 
 
 Sail ne'er be said o' me ; 
 
 And made him meikle ill to dree. 
 
 
 
 For, as ye've died for me, Annie, 
 
 
 
 
 Sae will I do for thee. 
 
 In ilka shoulder they've bor'd a hole, 
 And in ilka hole they've put a tree ; 
 
 
 
 " The day ye deal at Annie's burial 
 
 They've made him to draw carts and wains, 
 
 
 
 The bread but and the wine ; 
 
 Till he was sick and like to dee. 
 
 
 
 Before the morn at twall o'clock, 
 
 
 
 
 They'll deal the same at mine." 
 
 But young Beichan was a Christian born, 
 -And still a Christian was he ; 
 
 
 
 The tane was buried in Mary's kirk, 
 
 Which made them put him in prison Strang, 
 
 
 
 The tither in Mary's quire ; 
 
 And cauld and hunger sair to dree ; 
 
 
 
 And out o' the tane there grew a birk, 
 
 And fed on nocht but bread and water, 
 
 
 
 And out o' the tither a brier. 
 
 Untill the day that he mot dee. 
 
 
 
 And aye they grew, and aye they grew, 
 
 In this prison there grew a tree, 
 
 
 
 Untill they twa did meet; 
 
 And it was unco stout and Strang; 
 
 
 
 And every ane that past them by, 
 
 Where he was chained by the middle, 
 
 
 
 Said, " Thae's been lovers sweet !" ■" 
 
 6 Until his life was almost gane. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 24 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 
 The savage Moor had but ae dochter, { 
 
 *i She's tane him to her father's port, 
 
 
 
 And her name it was Susie Pye; 
 
 And gi'en to him a ship o' fame, — 
 
 
 
 And ilka day as she took the air, 
 
 " Farewell, farewell, my Scottish lord, 
 
 
 
 The prison door she passed bye. 
 
 I fear I'll ne'er see you again." 
 
 
 
 But it fell ance upon a day, 
 
 Lord Beichan turn'd him round about, 
 
 
 
 As she was walking, she heard him sing; 
 
 And lowly, lowly, loutit he • — 
 
 
 
 She listen'd to his tale of woe, 
 
 " Ere seven lang years come to an end, 
 
 
 
 A happy day for young Beichan ! 
 
 I'll tak' you to mine ain countrie." 
 
 
 
 " My hounds they all go masterless, 
 
 Then whan he cam' to Glasgow town. 
 
 
 
 My hawks they flee frae tree to tree, 
 
 A happy, happy, man was he ; 
 
 
 
 My youngest brother will heir my lands, 
 
 The ladies a" around him thrang'd, 
 
 
 
 My native land I'll never see." 
 
 To see him come frae slaverie. 
 
 
 
 " were I but the prison -keeper, 
 
 His mother she had died o' sorrow, 
 
 
 
 As I'm a ladie o' hie degree, 
 
 And a' his brothers were dead but he ; 
 
 
 
 I soon wad set this youth at large, 
 
 His lands they a' were lying waste, 
 
 
 
 And send him to his ain countrie." 
 
 In ruins were his castles free. 
 
 
 
 She went away into her chamber, 
 All nicht she never closed her e'e; 
 
 Na porter there stood at his yett ; 
 Na human creature he could see ; 
 
 
 
 And when the morning begoud to dawn, 
 
 Except the screeching owls and bats, 
 
 
 
 At the prison door alane was she. 
 
 Had he to bear him companie. 
 
 
 
 She gied the keeper a piece of gowd, 
 
 
 
 
 And monie pieces o' white monie, 
 
 But gowd will gar the castles grow, 
 
 
 
 To tak' her through the bolts and bars, 
 
 And he had gowd and jewels free; 
 
 
 
 The lord frae Scotland she lang'd to see : — 
 
 And soon the pages around him thrang'd. 
 
 
 
 She saw young Beichan at the stake, 
 
 To serve him on their bended knee. 
 
 
 
 Which made her weep maist bitterlie. 
 
 His hall was hung wi' silk and satin, 
 
 
 
 " ha'e ye got onie lands," she says, 
 
 His table rung wi' mirth and glee, 
 
 
 
 " Or castles in your ain countrie ? 
 
 He soon forgot the lady fair, 
 
 
 
 It's what wad ye gi'e to the ladie fair 
 
 That lows'd him out o' slaverie. 
 
 
 
 "Wha out o' prison wad set you free?" 
 
 Lord Beichan courted a lady gay, 
 
 
 
 "It's I ha'e houses, and I ha'e lands, 
 
 To heir wi' him his lands sae free, 
 
 
 
 Wi' monie castles fair to see, 
 
 Ne'er thinking that a lady fair 
 
 
 
 And I wad gi'e a' to that ladie gay, 
 
 Was on her way frae grand Turkie 
 
 
 
 Wha out o' prison wad set me free." 
 
 
 
 
 The keeper syne brak aff his chains, 
 
 For Susie Pye could get nae rest, 
 
 
 
 And set Lord Beichan at libertie : — 
 
 Nor day nor nicht could happy be. 
 
 
 
 She fill'd his pockets baith wi' gowd, 
 
 Still thinking on the Scottish lord, 
 
 
 
 To tak' him till his ain countrie. 
 
 Till she was sick and like to dee. 
 
 
 
 She took him frae her father's prison, 
 
 But she has builded a bonnie ship, 
 
 
 
 And gied to him the best o' wine; 
 
 Weel mann'd wi' seamen o' hie degree : 
 
 
 
 And a brave health she drank to him, — 
 
 And secretly she stept on board, 
 
 
 
 " I wish, Lord Beichan, ye were mine ' 
 
 And bid adieu to her ain countrie. 
 
 
 
 It's seven lang years I'll mak' a vow, 
 
 But whan she cam' to the Scottish shoTP, 
 
 
 
 And seven lang years I'll keep it true; 
 
 The bells were ringing sae merrilie; 
 
 
 
 If ye'll wed wi' na ither woman, 
 
 1 It was Lord Beichan 's wedding day, 
 
 
 
 It's I will wed na man but you." ; 
 
 a Wi' a lady fair o' hie degree- 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 25 
 
 But sic a vessel was never seen, 
 
 The very masts were tapp'd wi' gold ! 
 
 Her sails were made o' the satin fine, 
 Maist beautiful for to behold. 
 
 But when the lady cam' on shore, 
 
 Attended wi' her pages three, 
 Her shoon were of the beaten gowd, 
 
 And she a lady of great beautie. 
 
 Then to the skipper she did say, 
 " Can ye this answer gi'e to me — 
 
 Where are Lord Beichan's lands sae braid t 
 He surely lives in this countrie." 
 
 Then up bespak' the skipper bold, 
 
 (For he could speak the Turkish tongue,)- 
 
 " Lord Beichan lives not far away, 
 This is the day of his wedding." 
 
 " If ye will guide me to Beichan's yetts, 
 I will ye well reward," said she, — 
 
 Then she and all her pages went, 
 A very gallant companie. 
 
 When she cam' to Lord Beichan's yetts. 
 
 She tirl'd gently at the pin, 
 Sae ready was the proud porter 
 
 To let the wedding guests come in. 
 
 " Is this Lord Beichan's house," she says, 
 " Or is that noble lord within ?" 
 
 " Yes, he is gane into the hall, 
 
 With his brave bride, and monie ane." 
 
 " Ye'll bid him send me a piece of bread, 
 Bot and a cup of his best wine ; 
 
 And bid him mind the lady's love 
 
 That ance did lowse him out o' pyne." 
 
 Then in and cam' the porter bold, 
 
 I wat he gae three shouts and three, — 
 
 " The fairest lady stands at your yetts, 
 That ever my twa een did see." 
 
 Then up bespak' the bride's mither, 
 I wat an angry woman was she, — 
 
 " You micht ha'e excepted our bonnie bride, 
 Tho' she'd been three times as fair as she." 
 
 " My dame, your daughter's fair enough, 
 
 And aye the fairer mot she be ! 
 But the fairest time that e'er she was. 
 
 She'll na compare wi' this ladie. 
 
 " She has a gowd ring on ilka finger, 
 And on her mid -finger she has three; 
 
 She has as meikle gowd upon her head, 
 As wad buy an earldom o' land to thee. 
 
 " My lord, she begs some o' your bread, 
 Bot and a cup o' your best wine, 
 
 And bids you mind the lady's love 
 That ance did lowse ye out o' pyne." 
 
 Then up and started Lord Beichan, 
 
 I wat he made the table flee, — 
 " I wad gi'e a' my yearlie rent 
 
 'Twere Susie Pye come owre the sea." 
 
 Syne up bespak' the bride's mither, — 
 She was ne'er heard to speak sae free, — 
 
 " Ye'll no forsake my ae dochter, 
 
 Though Susie Pye has cross'd the sea ?" 
 
 " Tak' hame, tak' hame, your dochter, madam, 
 For she is ne'er the waur o' me ; 
 
 She cam' to me on horseback riding, 
 
 And she sail gang hame in chariot free." 
 
 He's tane Susie Pye by the milk-white hand, 
 And led her through his halls sae hie, — 
 
 " Ye're now Lord Beichan's lawful wife, 
 And thrice ye're welcome unto me." 
 
 Lord Beichan prepar'd for another wedding, 
 Wi' baith their hearts sae fu' o' glee; — 
 
 Says, "I'll range nae mair in foreign lands, 
 Sin* Susie Pye has cross'd the sea. 
 
 " Fy ! gar a' our cooks mak' ready; 
 
 And, fy ! gar a' our pipers play ; 
 And fy ! gar trumpets gae through the toun, 
 
 That Lord Beichan's wedded twice in a 
 day!" 
 
 [From Jamieson's Collection. See Note to 
 previous Ballad.] 
 
 Youno Beckie was as brave a knight 
 
 As ever sail'd the sea; 
 And he's doen him to the court o' France, 
 
 To serve for meat and fee. 
 

 26 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 He hadna been in the court o' France & " Ochon, alas !" says young Lekie, 
 
 A twelvemonth nor sae lang, 
 
 " I kenna what to dee ; 
 
 Till he fell in love wi' the king's daughter, 
 
 For I canna win to Burd Isbel, 
 
 And was thrown in prison Strang. 
 
 And she canna come to me." 
 
 The king he had but ae daughter, 
 
 it fell out upon a day 
 
 Burd Isbel was her name ; 
 
 Burd Isbel fell asleep, 
 
 And she has to the prison gane, 
 
 And up it starts the Billy Blin, 
 
 To hear the prisoner's mane. 
 
 And stood at her bed feet. 
 
 " gin a lady wad borrow me, 
 
 " waken, waken, Burd Isbel ; 
 
 At her stirrup I wad rin ; 
 
 How can ye sleep so soun' ; 
 
 gin a widow wad borrow me, 
 
 When this is Bekie's wedding day, 
 
 I wad swear to be her son. 
 
 And the marriage gaing on ? 
 
 " gin a virgin wad borrow me, 
 
 " Te do ye till your mither's bower, 
 
 I wad wed her wi' a ring ; 
 
 As fast as ye can gang ; 
 
 I'd gi'e her ha's, I'd gi'e her bowers, 
 
 And ye tak' three o' your mither's Marys, 
 
 The bonnie towers o' Linne." 
 
 To haud ye unthocht lang. 
 
 barefoot barefoot gaed she but, 
 
 "Ye dress yoursel' i' the red scarlet, 
 
 And barefoot cam' she ben ; 
 
 And your Marys in dainty green ; 
 
 It was na for want o' hose and shoon, 
 
 And ye put girdles about your middle 
 
 Nor time to put them on ; 
 
 Wad buy an earldome. 
 
 But a' for fear that her father 
 
 " Syne ye gang down by yon sea-side, 
 
 Had heard her makin' din ; 
 
 And down by yon sea-strand; 
 
 For she's stown the keys of the prison, 
 
 And bonnie will the Hollans boats 
 
 And gane the dungeon within. 
 
 Come rowin' till your hand. 
 
 And when she saw him, young Bekie, 
 
 "Ye set your milk-white foot on board, 
 
 Wow, but her heart was sair ! 
 
 Cry, • Hail ye, Domine !' 
 
 For the mice, but and the bauld rattons, 
 
 And I will be the steerer o't, 
 
 Had eaten his yellow hair. 
 
 To row you o'er the sea." 
 
 She's gotten him a shaver for his beard, 
 
 She's ta'en her till her mither's bower, 
 
 A comber till his hair; 
 
 As fast as she could gang; 
 
 Five hundred pound in his pocket, 
 
 And she's ta'en twa o' her mither's Marys, 
 
 To spend, and nae to spare. 
 
 To haud her unthocht lang. 
 
 She's gi'en him a steed was gocd in need, 
 
 She's drest hersel' i' the red scarlet, 
 
 And a saddle o' royal bane ; 
 
 Her Marys i' the dainty green ; 
 
 A leash o' hounds o' ae litter, 
 
 And they've put girdles about their middle 
 
 And Hector called ane. 
 
 Would buy an earldome. 
 
 Atween thir twa a vow was made, 
 
 And they gaed down by yon sea-side, 
 
 'Twas made full solemlie, 
 
 And down by yon sea-strand; 
 
 That or three years were come and gane, 
 
 And sae bonnie as the Hollans boats 
 
 Weel married they should be. 
 
 Come rowin' till their hand. 
 
 He hadna been in's ain countrie 
 
 She set her milk-white foot on board, 
 
 A twelvemonth till an end, 
 
 Cried, " Hail ye, Domine!" 
 
 Till he's forced to marry a duke's daughter, 
 
 And the Billy Blin was the steerer o't, 
 
 Or than lose a' his land. i 
 
 f To row her o'er the sea. 
 
 

 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 27 
 
 
 Whan she cam' to young Bekie's gate, &i "Tak'hame, tak'hame your daughter dear; 
 
 
 
 She heard the music play; 
 
 A blessing gang her wi" ; 
 
 
 
 And her mind misga'e by a' she heard, 
 
 For I maun marry my Burd Isbel, 
 
 
 
 That 'twas his wedding day. 
 
 That's come o'er the sea to me." 
 
 
 
 She's pitten her hand in her pocket, 
 
 " Is this the custome o' your house, 
 
 
 
 Gi'en the porter markis three; 
 
 Or the fashion o' your land, 
 
 
 
 "Hae, take ye that, ye proud porter, 
 
 To marry a maid in a May morning, 
 
 
 
 Bid your master speake to me." 
 
 And send her back a maid at e'en ?" 
 
 
 
 O whan that he cam' up the stair, 
 
 
 
 
 He fell low down on his knee : 
 
 _____ 
 
 
 
 He hail'd the king, and he hail'd the queen, 
 
 
 
 
 And he hail'd him young Bekie. 
 
 
 
 
 "01 have been porter at your gates 
 
 J$£a|p ©oWm. 
 
 
 
 This thirty years and three; 
 
 
 
 
 But there are three ladies at them now, 
 
 
 
 
 Their like I did never see. 
 
 [Stall copies of May Colvin or Collean, under 
 the title of " The Western Tragedy," exist of a 
 
 
 
 " There's ane o' them drest in red scarlet, 
 
 date at least as far back as the middle of the 
 
 
 
 And twa in dainty green; 
 
 last century. From these the ballad found its 
 
 
 
 And they ha'e girdles about their middles 
 
 way into Herd's collection, and is reprinted by 
 
 
 
 "Would buy an earldome." 
 
 Motherwell with some alterations from a recited 
 version. "The ballad finds locality," says Mr 
 
 
 
 Then out and spak' the bierdly bride, 
 
 Chambers, " in that wild portion of the coast of 
 
 
 
 "Was a* goud to the chin ; 
 
 Carrick, (Ayrshire,) which intervenes betwixt 
 
 
 
 "Gin she be fine without," she says, 
 
 Girvan and Ballantrae. Carlton Castle, about 
 
 
 
 " We's be as fine within." 
 
 two miles to the south of Girvan, (a tall old ruin 
 situated on the brink of a bank which overhangs 
 
 
 
 Then up it starts him, young Bekie, 
 
 the sea, and which gives title to Sir John Cath- 
 
 
 
 And the tear was in his e'e : 
 
 cart, Bart, of Carlton,) is affirmed by the country 
 
 
 
 " I'll lay my life it's Burd Isbel 
 
 people, who still remember the story with great 
 
 
 
 Come o'er the sea to me." 
 
 freshness, to have been the residence of ' the 
 fause Sir John;' while a tall rocky eminence, 
 
 
 
 quickly he ran down the stair; 
 
 called Gamsloup, overhanging the sea about two 
 
 
 
 And whan he saw 'twas she, 
 
 miles still farther south, and over which the 
 
 
 
 He kindly took her in his arms, 
 
 road passes in a style terrible to all travellers, is 
 
 
 
 And kist her tenderlie. 
 
 pointed out as the place where he was in the 
 habit of drowning his wives, and where he was 
 
 
 
 " ha'e ye forgotten now, young Bekie, 
 
 finally drowned himself. The people, who look 
 
 
 
 The vow ye made to me, 
 
 upon the ballad as a regular and proper record 
 
 
 
 When I took you out of prison Strang, 
 
 of an unquestionable fact, farther affirm that 
 
 
 
 When ye was condemned to dee ? 
 
 May Collean was a daughter of the family of 
 Kennedy of Colzean, now represented by the 
 
 
 
 " I ga'e you a steed was good in need, 
 
 Earl of Cassilis, and that she became heir to all 
 
 
 
 And a saddle o' royal bane ; 
 
 the immense wealth which her husband had ac- 
 
 
 
 A leash o' hounds o' ae litter ; 
 
 quired by his former mal -practices, and accord- 
 
 
 
 And Hector called ane." 
 
 ingly lived happy all the rest of her days." We 
 give here, first, the ballad as it appears in 
 
 
 
 It was well kent what the lady said, 
 
 Motherwell, which differs little from Herds 
 
 
 
 That it was nae a lie ; 
 
 version. We also give Mr Buchan's version, 
 
 
 
 For at the first word the lady spak', 
 
 which, though similar in incident, is almost to- 
 
 
 
 The hound fell at her knee. { 
 
 6 tally different in language from the others.] 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
28 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 False Sir John a wooing came, •„' 
 
 To a maid of beauty fair ; 
 May Colvin was the lady's name, 
 
 Her father's only heir. 
 
 " lie you there, thou false Sir John, 
 
 lie you there," said she, 
 " For you lie not in a caulder bed 
 
 Than the ane you intended for me.* 
 
 
 He's courted her butt, and he's courted her ben, 
 And he's courted her into the ha', 
 
 Till once he got this lady's consent 
 To mount and ride awa'. 
 
 So she went on her father's steed, 
 
 As swift as she could flee ; 
 And she came hame to her father's gates 
 
 At the breaking of the day. 
 
 
 She's gane to her father's coffers, 
 
 Where all his money lay; 
 And she's taken the red, and she's left the 
 
 And so lightly as she tripped away, [white, 
 
 Up then spake the pretty parrot: 
 
 " May Colvin, where have you been ? 
 
 What has become of false Sir John, 
 That wooed you so late yestreen ?" 
 
 
 She's gane down to her father's stable 
 
 Where all his steeds did stand ; 
 And she's taken the best and she's left the 
 
 That was in her father's land. [warst, 
 
 Up then spake the pretty parrot, 
 In the bonnie cage where it lay : 
 
 " what ha'e ye done with the false Sir John, 
 That he behind you does stay ? 
 
 
 He rode on, and she rode on, 
 They rode a lang simmer's day, 
 
 Until they came to a broad river, 
 An arm of a lonesome sea. 
 
 " He wooed you butt, he wooed you ben, 
 . . He wooed you into the ha', 
 Until he got your own consent 
 For to mount and gang awa*." 
 
 
 " Loup off the steed," says false Sir John ; 
 
 " Your bridal bed you see ; [here, 
 For it's seven king's daughters I have drowned 
 
 And the eighth I'll out make with thee. 
 
 "0 hold your tongue, my pretty parrot, 
 
 Lay not the blame upon me ; 
 Tour cage will be made of the beaten g old, 
 
 And the spakes of ivorie." 
 
 
 " Cast aff, cast aff your silks so fine, 
 And lay them on a stone, 
 
 For they are o'er good and o'er costly 
 To rot in the salt sea foam: 
 
 Up then spake the king himself, 
 In the chamber where he lay : 
 
 " Oh ! what ails the pretty parrot, 
 That prattles so long ere day." 
 
 
 " Cast aff, cast aff your holland smock, 
 
 And lay it on this stone, 
 For it is too fine and o'er costly 
 
 To rot in the salt sea foam." 
 
 " It was a cat cam' to my cage door, 
 1 thought 'twould have worried me 
 
 And I was calling on fair May Colvin 
 To take the cat from me." 
 
 
 " turn you about, thou false Sir John, 
 And look to the leaf o' the tree; 
 
 For it never became a gentleman 
 A naked woman to see." 
 
 MAT COLVIN. 
 
 
 He's turned himself straight round about, 
 To look to the leaf o' the tree; 
 
 She's twined her arms about his waist, 
 And thrown him into the sea. 
 
 [Buchan's version. See Note to the pre vious 
 ballad. Binyan's Bay, mentioned in the ver- 
 sion, was, Mr Buchan says, at the mouth of the 
 river Ugie, where Peterhead now stands.] 
 
 
 " hold a grip of me, May Colvin, 
 
 For fear that I should drown ; 
 I'll take you hame to your father's gate, 
 
 And safely I'll set you down." > 
 
 Heard ye ever of a bludy knight, 
 
 Lived in the west countrie ? 
 For he's betray'd seven virgins fair, 
 & And drowned them in the sea.' 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 29 
 
 
 
 All ladies of a gude account, 
 As ever yet were known ; 
 
 This traitor was a barron knight, 
 They call'd him fause Sir John. 
 
 & Are these your bowers and lofty towers, 
 Sae beautiful and gay ? 
 Or is it for my gold, she says, 
 You take my life away ? 
 
 
 
 Then he is gane to May Colvin, 
 She was her fathers heir; 
 
 The greatest beauty o' that age, 
 I solemnly declare. 
 
 Cast aff, cast aff your jewels fine, 
 Sae costly, rich, and rare ; 
 
 For they're too costly, and too fine, 
 To sink in the sea ware. 
 
 
 
 Thou art the darling of my heart, 
 
 I say, fair May Colvin ; 
 So far excells thy beauties great, 
 
 That ever I ha'e seen. 
 
 Then aff she's ta'en her jewels fine, 
 And thus she made her mean ; 
 
 Ha'e mercy on a virgin young, 
 I pray you, gude Sir John ! 
 
 
 
 But I'm a knight of wealth and might, 
 Ha'e towers, towns twenty-three; 
 
 And ye'se be lady o' them a', 
 If ye will gang wi' me. 
 
 Cast aff, cast aff, fair May Colvin, 
 Your gown and petticoat ; 
 
 For they're too costly, and too fine, 
 To rot by the sea rock. 
 
 
 
 Excuse me then, gude Sir John, 
 To wed I am too young ; 
 
 Without ye ha'e my parents' leave, 
 "With you I darna come. 
 
 Take all I have my life to save, 
 
 gude Sir John, I pray ; 
 Let it ne'er be said you killed a maid, 
 
 Before her wedding day. 
 
 
 
 Your parents' leave ye soon shall have, 
 
 To this they will agree ; 
 For I ha'e made a solemn vow, 
 
 This night ye'se gang wi' me. 
 
 Strip aff, strip aff, your Holland smock, 
 That's border'd wi' the lawn; 
 
 For it's too costly, and too fine, 
 To toss on the sea sand. 
 
 
 
 Frae below his arm he's pull'd a charm, 
 
 And stuck it in her sleeve ; 
 And he has made her gang wi' him, 
 
 "Without her parents' leave. 
 
 turn ye round, gude Sir John, 
 Your back about to me ; 
 
 It is not comely for a man 
 A naked woman to see. 
 
 
 
 Much gowd and siller she has brought, 
 Wi' her five hundred pound ; 
 
 The best an' steed her father had, 
 She's ta'en to ride upon. 
 
 But, as Sir John he turn'd him round, 
 
 She threw him in the sea ; 
 Savs, Lye ye there, ye fause Sir John, 
 
 For ye thought to lye wi' me. 
 
 
 
 Sae privately they rade away, 
 They made nae stop nor stay; 
 
 Till they came to that fatal end, 
 That ye ca' Binyan's bay. 
 
 lye ye there, ye traitor fause, 
 For ye thought to lye wi' me ; 
 
 Although ye stript me to the skin, 
 Ye'se get your claise wi' thee. 
 
 
 
 It being in a lonely place, 
 
 Sa.e habitation nigh ; 
 The fatal rocks were tall and steep, 
 
 And nane could hear her cry. 
 
 Then on she puts her jewels fine, 
 
 Sae costly, rich, and brave ; 
 And then wi' speed she mounts her steed, 
 
 Sae well's she did behave. 
 
 
 
 Light down, light down, fair May Colvin, 
 
 Light down, and speak wi' me; 
 For here I've drown'd eight virgins brave, 
 
 And you the ninth maun be. ^ 
 
 This maiden fair being void of fear, 
 
 The steed was swift and free ; 
 And she has reach'd her father's house 
 } Before the clock struck three. 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 30 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 First she call'd the stable groom, ^ Ye ladies a', wherever you be, 
 
 
 
 Who was her waiting man ; 
 
 That read this mournful song; 
 
 
 
 As soon's he heard his lady's word, 
 
 I pray you mind on May Colvin, 
 
 
 
 He came wi' cap in han". 
 
 And think on fause Sir John. 
 
 
 
 Where hast thou been, fair May Colvin? 
 
 Aff they've ta'en his jewels fine, 
 
 
 
 Who owes this dapple gray ? 
 
 To keep in memory ; 
 
 
 
 It is a found ane, she replied, 
 
 And sae I end my mournful sang, 
 
 
 
 That I got on the way. 
 
 And fatal tragedy. 
 
 
 
 Then out it speaks the wylie parrot, 
 
 
 
 
 Unto fair May Colvin ; 
 
 ~™"™"™ " 
 
 
 
 What hast thou made o* fause Sir John, 
 
 
 
 
 That ye went wi' yestreen ? 
 
 ®1k %tU% lUaiiig&ter. 
 
 
 
 haud your tongue, my pretty parrot, 
 
 
 
 
 And talk nae mair o' me ; 
 
 [" This ballad," says Dr Percy, " is founded 
 
 
 
 For when ye got ae meal a-fore, 
 
 upon the supposed practice of the Jews in cruci- 
 
 
 
 My parrot, ye'se ha'e three. 
 
 fying or otherwise murdering Christian children, 
 out of hatred to the religion of their parents: a 
 
 
 
 Then out it speaks her father dear, 
 
 practice which hath been always alleged in excuse 
 
 
 
 In the chamber where he lay ; 
 
 for the cruelties exercised upon that wretched 
 
 
 
 What aileth thee, my pretty parrot, 
 
 people, but which probably never happened in a 
 
 
 
 To chat sae lang ere day ? 
 
 single instance. For, if we consider, on the one 
 hand, the ignorance and superstition of the times 
 
 
 
 The cat she seratch'd at my cage door, 
 
 when such stories took their rise, the virulent 
 
 
 
 The thief I couldna see ; 
 
 prejudices of the monks who record them, and 
 
 
 
 And 1 am calling on May Colvin, 
 
 the eagerness with which they would be catched 
 
 
 
 To take the cat frae me. 
 
 up by the barbarous populace as a pretence for 
 plunder; on the other hand, the great danger 
 
 
 
 But first she tauld her father dear, 
 
 incurred by the perpetrators, and the inadequate 
 
 
 
 The deed that she had done; 
 
 motives they could have to excite them to a crime 
 
 
 
 Likewise unto her mother dear, 
 
 of so much horror ; we may reasonably conclude 
 
 
 
 Concerning fause Sir John. 
 
 the whole charge to be groundless and malicious. 
 The ballad is probably built upon some Italian 
 
 
 
 If that be true, fair May Colvin, 
 
 Legend, and bears a great resemblance to the 
 
 
 
 That ye ha'e tauld to me ; 
 
 Prioresse's Tale in Chaucer: the poet seems also 
 
 
 
 The morn, ere I eat or drink, 
 
 to have had an eye to the known story of Hugh 
 
 
 
 This fause Sir John I'll see. 
 
 of Lincoln, a child said to have been there mur- 
 dered by the Jews in the reign of Henry III." 
 
 
 
 Sae aff they went, wi' ae consent, 
 
 Different readings of the ballad are given in 
 
 
 
 By the dawning o' the day ; 
 
 different collections, but the variations are not 
 
 
 
 Until they came to Charlestown sands, 
 
 material. In some copies the title is " Sir Hugh 
 
 
 
 And there his corpse it lay. 
 
 or the Jew's Daughter;" in others, particularly 
 Mr Jamieson s, who accompanies his copy by a 
 
 
 
 His body tall, with that great fall, 
 
 long and curious introduction on the state of 
 
 
 
 With waves t ss'd to and fro, 
 
 the Jews in the middle ages, it is called " Hugh 
 
 
 
 The diamond ring that he had on, 
 
 of Lincoln." We follow here Motherwell's ver- 
 
 
 
 Was broken in pieces two. 
 
 sion, as we consider it, on the whole, the best.] 
 
 
 
 They ha'e taken up his corpse 
 
 Yesterday was brave Hallowday, 
 
 
 
 To yonder pleasant green ; 
 
 And, above all days of the year, 
 
 
 
 And there they buried fause Sir John, 
 
 The schoolboys all got leave to play, 
 
 
 
 For fear he should be seen. ^ 
 
 f And little Sir Hugh was there. 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 31 
 
 
 He kicked the ball with his foot, & "When bells were rung and mass was sung, 
 
 
 
 And kepped it with his knee, 
 
 And every body went hame, 
 
 
 
 And even in at the Jew's window, 
 
 Then every lady had her son, 
 
 
 
 He gart the bonnie ba' flee. 
 
 But lady Helen had nane. 
 
 
 
 Out then came the Jew's daughter— 
 
 She rolled her mantle her about, 
 
 
 
 " Will ye come in and dine ?" 
 
 And sore, sore did she weep; 
 
 
 
 " I winna come in and I canna come in 
 
 She ran away to the Jew's castle 
 
 
 
 Till I get that ball of mine. 
 
 When all were fast asleep. 
 
 
 
 •' Throw down that ball to me, maiden, 
 
 She cries, " Bonnie Sir Hugh, pretty Sir 
 
 
 
 Throw down the ball to me." 
 
 Hugh, 
 
 
 
 " I winna throw down your ball, Sir Hugh, 
 
 I pray you speak to me ; 
 
 
 
 Till ye come up to me." 
 
 If you speak to any body in this warld, 
 I pray you speak to me." 
 
 
 
 She pu'd the apple frae the tree, 
 
 
 
 
 It was baith red and green, 
 
 " Lady Helen, if ye want your son, 
 
 
 
 She gave it unto little Sir Hugh, 
 
 I'll tell you where to seek ; 
 
 
 
 With that his heart did win. 
 
 Lady Helen, if ye want your son, 
 He's in the well sae deep." 
 
 
 
 She wiled him into ae chamber, 
 
 
 
 
 She wiled him into twa, 
 
 She ran away to the deep draw-well, 
 
 
 
 She wiled him into the third chamber, 
 
 And she fell down on her knee ; 
 
 
 
 Ani that was waist o't a'. 
 
 Saving, " Bonnie Sir Hugh, pretty Sir 
 Hugh, 
 
 
 
 She took out a little penknife, 
 
 I pray ye speak to me, 
 
 
 
 Hung low down by her spare, 
 
 If ye speak to any body in the world, 
 
 
 
 She twined this young thing o' his life, 
 
 I pray ye speak to me." 
 
 
 
 And a word he ne'er spak' mair. 
 
 " Oh ! the lead it is wondrous heavy, mother, 
 
 
 
 And first came out the thick, thick blood, 
 
 The well it is wondrous deep, 
 
 
 
 And syne came out the thin, 
 
 The little penknife sticks in my throat, 
 
 
 
 And syne came out the bonnie heart's blood — 
 
 And I downa to ye speak. 
 
 
 
 There was nae mair within. 
 
 " But lift me out o' this deep draw-well, 
 
 
 
 She laid him on a dressing table. 
 
 And bury me in yon church-yard; 
 
 
 
 She dress'd him like a swine, 
 
 Put a bible at my head, he says, 
 
 
 
 Says, " Lie ye there, my bonnie Sir Hugh, 
 
 And a testament at my feet, 
 
 
 
 Wi' ye're apples red and green." 
 
 And pen and ink at every side, 
 And I'll lie still and sleep. 
 
 
 
 She nut him in a case of lead, 
 
 
 
 
 Says " Lie you there and sleep ;" 
 
 " And go to the back of Maitland town, 
 
 
 
 She ttirew him into the deep draw-well 
 
 Bring me my winding sheet; 
 
 
 
 Was fifty fathoms deep. 
 
 For it's at the back of Maitland town, 
 That you and I shall meet." 
 
 
 
 A schoolboy walking in the garden, 
 
 
 
 
 Did grievously hear him moan, 
 
 the broom, the bonnie, bonnie broom, 
 
 
 
 He ran away to the deep draw-well 
 
 The broom that makes full sore, 
 
 
 
 And fell down on his knee, 
 
 A woman's mercy is very little, 
 But a man's mercy is more. 
 
 
 
 Says," Bonnie Sir Hugh, and pretty Sir Hugh, 
 
 
 
 
 I pray you speak to me ; 
 
 
 
 
 If you speak to any body in this world, 
 
 ~~~~ " 
 
 
 
 I pray you speak to me." < 
 
 V 
 
 
 
 
 
32 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 [Modern Ballad.— James Hogg.] 
 
 " Oh where have you been, bonnie Marley Reid, 
 Tor mony a long night and day? 
 
 I have miss'd ye sair, at the Wanlock-head, 
 And the cave o' the Louther brae. 
 
 " Our friends are waning fast away, 
 Baith frae the cliff and the wood ; 
 
 They are tearing them frae us ilka day ; 
 
 For there's naething will please but blood. 
 
 " And, bonnie Marley, I maun now 
 
 Gi'e your heart muckle pain, 
 For your bridegroom is a-missing too, 
 
 And 'tis fear'd that he is ta'en. 
 
 " We have sought the caves o' the Enterkin, 
 And the dens o' the Ballybough, 
 
 And a' the howes o' the Ganna linn ; 
 And we wot not what to do." 
 
 " Bispel your fears, good Marjory Laing, 
 
 And hope all for the best, 
 For the servants of God will find a place, 
 
 Their weary heads to rest. 
 
 " There are better places, that we ken o', 
 
 And seemlier to be in, 
 Than all the dens of the Ballybough, 
 
 Or howes o' the Ganna linn. 
 
 " But sit thee down, good Marjory Laing, 
 
 And listen a while to me, 
 For I have a tale to tell to you, 
 
 That will bring you to your knee : 
 
 " I went to seek my own dear James 
 In the cave o' the Louther brae, 
 
 For I had some things, that of a' the world, 
 He best deserved to ha'e. 
 
 " I had a kebbuck in my lap, 
 
 And a fadge o ; the flour sae sma , 
 
 And a sark 1 had made for his buirdly back, 
 As white as the new-dri'en snaw. 
 
 " I sought him over hill and dale, 
 
 Shouting by cave and tree ; 
 But only the dell with its eiry yell, 
 
 An answer return'd to me. 
 
 " I sought him up, and I sought him down, 
 
 And echoes return'd his name, 
 Till the gloffs o' dread shot to my heart, 
 
 And dirled through a' my frame. 
 
 " I sat me down by the Enterkin, 
 
 And saw, in a fearful line, 
 The red dragoons come up the path, 
 
 Wi' prisoners eight or nine: 
 
 " And one of them was my dear, dear James, 
 
 The flower of a' his kin'; 
 He was wounded behind, and wounded before, 
 
 And the blood ran frae his chin. 
 
 " He was bound upon a weary hack, 
 
 Lash'd both by hough and heel, 
 And his hands were bound behind his back, 
 
 Wi' the thumbkins of steel. 
 
 " I kneel'd before that soldier band, 
 
 In the fervour of inward strife, 
 And I raised to Heaven my trembling hand, 
 
 And begg'd my husband's life. 
 
 " But all the troop laugh'd me to scorn, 
 
 Making my grief their game ; 
 And the captain said some words to me, 
 
 Which I cannot tell for shame. 
 
 " And then he cursed our Whiggish race, 
 With a proud and a scornful brow, 
 
 And bade me look at my husband's face, 
 And say how I liked him now. 
 
 " Oh, I like him weel, thou proud captain, 
 Though the blood runs to his knee, 
 
 And all the better for the grievous wrongs 
 He has suffer'd this day frae thee. 
 
 " But can you feel within your heart 
 
 That comely youth to slay ? 
 For the hope you have in Heaven, captain, 
 
 Let him gang wi' me away ! 
 
 " Then the captain swore a fearfu' oath, 
 
 With loathsome jest and mock, 
 That he thought no more of a Whiggamore's 
 
 Than the life of a noisome brock. [life. 
 
 " Then my poor James to the captain call'd, 
 And he begg'd baith hard and sair, 
 
 To have one kiss of his bonnie bride. 
 Ere we parted for evermair. 
 

 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 33 
 
 
 ' I'll do that for you,' said the proud captain, : 
 
 'And save you the toil to-day, 
 And, moreover, I'll take her little store, 
 
 To support you by the way.* 
 
 % "I sought through a' tit£ city jails, 
 J I sought baith lang and sair ; 
 j But the guardsmen turn'd me frae their doors, 
 And swore that he was not there. 
 
 
 " He took my bountith from my lap, 
 And I saw, with sorrow dumb, 
 
 That he parted it all among his men, 
 And gave not my love one crumb. 
 
 " I went away to the tyrant duke, 
 Who was my love's judge to be, 
 
 And I proffer'd him a' my yellow store, 
 If he'd grant his life to me. 
 
 
 ■ Now, fare you well, my very bonnie bride,' 
 Cried the captain with disdain ; 
 
 ' When I come back to the banks of Nith, 
 I shall kiss you sweetly then. 
 
 " He counted the red gowd slowly o'er, 
 
 By twenties and by tens, 
 And said* I had taken the only means 
 
 To attain my hopeful ends. 
 
 
 ' Tour heartiest thanks must sure be given, 
 
 For what I have done to-day, — 
 I am taking him straight on the road to heaven; 
 
 And short will be the way !' 
 
 * And now,' said he, ' your husband's safe; 
 
 Tou may take this pledge of me : 
 And I'll tell you.fair one, where ye'll go 
 
 To gain this certaintye,— 
 
 
 " My love he gave me a parting look, 
 
 And bless 'd me ferventlye, 
 And the tears they mix'd wi' his purple blood, 
 
 And ran down to his knee." 
 
 ' Gang west the street and down the Bow, 
 And through the market place, 
 
 And there you will meet with a gentleman, 
 Of a tall and courteous grace ; 
 
 
 " What's this I hear, bonnie Marley Eeid ? 
 
 How could these woes betide ? 
 For blyther you could not look this day, 
 
 Were your husband by your side. 
 
 ' He is clad in » livery of the green, 
 
 With a plume aboon his bree, 
 And arm'd with a halbert, glittering sheen 
 
 Tour love he will let you see.' 
 
 
 " One of two things alone is left, 
 And dreadful the one to me ; 
 
 For either your fair wits are reft, 
 Or else your husband's free." 
 
 "0 Marjory, never flew blythsome bird, 
 So light out through the sky, 
 
 As I flew up that stately street, 
 Weeping for very joy. 
 
 
 " Allay your fears, good Marjory Laing, 
 
 And hear me out the rest ; 
 Tou little ken what a bride will do, 
 
 For the youth she likes the best ! 
 
 " Oh never flew lamb out o'er the lea, 
 When the sun gangs o'er the hill, 
 
 Wi' lighter, blyther steps than me, 
 Or skipp'd wi' sic goodwill : 
 
 
 " I hied me home to my father's ha', 
 And through a' my friends I ran, 
 
 And I gather'd me up a purse 0' gowd, 
 To redeem my young goodman : 
 
 " And aye I bless'd the precious ore, 
 My husband's life that wan ; 
 
 And I even bless'd the tyrant duke, 
 For a kind good-hearted man. 
 
 
 " For I kenn'd the prelate lowns would weel 
 
 My fair intent approve ; 
 For they'll do far mair for the good red gowd, 
 
 Than they'll do for Heaven above. 
 
 " The officer I soon found out,— 
 For he could not be mistook , 
 
 But in all my life I never beheld 
 Sic a grim and grousome look. 
 
 
 "And away I ran to Edinburgh town, 
 
 Of my shining treasure vain, 
 To buy my James from the prison strong, 
 
 Or there with him remain. ^ 
 
 " I ask'd him for my dear, dear James, 
 
 With throbs of wild delight, 
 And begg'd him in his master's name, 
 ; To take me to his sight. 
 c 
 
34 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 " He ask'd me for his true address, I 
 
 "With a voice at which I shook ; 
 For I saw that he was a cruel knave, 
 
 By the terror of his look. 
 
 t " Alaek, alack, bonnie Marley Eeid, 
 That sic days we ha'e lived to see • 
 For siccan a cruel and waefu' tale 
 Was never yet heard by me. 
 
 " I named the name with a buoyant voice, 
 That trembled with ecstasye; 
 
 But the savage bray'd a hideous laugh, 
 Then turn'd and grinn'd at me. 
 
 " And all this time, I have, trembling, ween'd 
 That your dear wits were gone ; 
 
 For there is a joy in your countenance, 
 Which I never saw beam thereon. 
 
 " He pointed up to the city wall: 
 One look benumb'd my soul ; 
 
 For there I saw my husband's head 
 Fix'd high upon a pole • 
 
 "Then let us kneel with humble hearts, 
 To the God whom we revere, 
 
 Who never yet laid that burden on, 
 Which he gave not strength to bear." 
 
 " His yellow hair waved in the wind, 
 
 And far behind did flee, 
 And his right hand hang beside his cheek, — 
 
 A waesome sight to see. 
 
 ®feg@fo fi^ggg. 
 
 " His chin hang down on open space, 
 
 Yet comely was his brow, 
 And his eyne were open to the breeze, — 
 
 There was nane to close them now ! 
 
 [From Buchan's Ballads of the North, where 
 it is called " Donald of the Isles," but the more 
 usual title of the ballad is " Glasgow Peggy."] 
 
 ' What think you of your true love now?' 
 
 The hideous porter said; 
 ' Is not that a comely sight to see, 
 
 And sweet to a Whiggish maid ?' 
 
 A bonnie laddie brisk and gay, 
 
 A handsome youth sae brisk and gaddie; 
 And he is on to Glasgow town, 
 
 To steal awa' his bonnie Peggy. 
 
 ' Oh, haud your tongue, ye heartless slave, 
 
 For I downa answer you; 
 He was dear, dear to my heart before, 
 
 But never sae dear as now ! 
 
 When he came into Glasgow town, 
 Upon her father's green sae steady ; 
 
 " Come forth, come forth, old man," he says, 
 " For I am come for bonnie Peggy." 
 
 ' I see a sight you cannot see, 
 Which man cannot efface; 
 
 I see a ray of heavenly love 
 Beaming on that dear face. 
 
 Out it spake her father then, 
 
 " Begone from me, ye Highland laddie ; 
 There's nane in a' the west country 
 
 Dare steal from me my bonnie Peggy." 
 
 ' And weel 1 ken yon bonnie brent brow 
 Will smile in the walks on high, 
 
 And yon yellow hair, all blood-stain'd now, 
 Maun wave aboon the sky.* 
 
 " I've ten young men all at my back, 
 
 That anee to me were baith true and steady. 
 
 If ance I call, they'll soon be nigh, 
 And bring to me my bonnie Peggy." 
 
 " But can ye trow me, Marjory dear ? 
 
 In the might of heavenly grace, 
 There was never a sigh burst frae my heart, 
 
 Nor a tear ran o'er my face. 
 
 Out it spake her mother then, 
 
 Dear but she spake wond'rous saucy ; 
 
 Says, " Ye may steal my cow or ewe, 
 But I'll keep sight o' my ain lassie." 
 
 " But I bless'd my God, who had thus seen meet 
 
 To take him from my side, 
 To call him home to the courts above, 
 
 And leave me a virgin bride." & 
 
 " Hold your tongue, old woman," he says, 
 
 " Ye think your wit it is fu' ready ; 
 For cow nor ewe I ever stole, 
 > But I will steal your bonnie Peggy." 
 

 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 35 
 
 
 Then all his men they boldly came, ife " My father has fifty well shod horse, 
 
 
 That was to him baith true and steady ; 
 
 Besides your steed and my grey naigie; 
 
 
 And through the ha' they quickly went, 
 
 I'm Donald 0' the Isle o' Sky, 
 
 
 And forth they carried bonnie Peggy. 
 
 Why may not you be ca'd a lady ? 
 
 
 Her father gae mony shout and cry, 
 
 " See ye not yon fine castle, 
 
 
 Her mother cursed the Highland laddie ; 
 
 On yonder hill that stands sae gaudie; 
 
 
 But he heard them as he heard them not, 1 
 
 And there we'll win this very night, 
 
 
 But fix'd his eye on bonnie Peggy. 
 
 Where ye'll enjoy your Highland laddie." 
 
 
 He set her on his milk-white steed, 
 
 
 
 And he himsel' on his grey naigie , 
 
 
 
 Still along the way they rode, 
 And he's awa' wi' bonnie Peggy. 
 
 [This genuine sample of the old humorous 
 
 
 Says, " I wad gi'e baith cow and ewe, 
 
 ballad was taken down from the recitation of a 
 
 
 And sae would I this tartan plaidie, 
 
 gentleman in Liddesdale, where it has long been 
 
 
 That I was far into the north, 
 
 popular. It is here first printed, with the excep- 
 
 
 And alang wi' me my bonnie Peggy." 
 
 tion of a few copies for private distribution.] 
 
 
 As they rode down yon pleasant glen, 
 
 A fair young May went up the street, 
 
 
 For trees and brambles were right mony, 
 
 Some white fish for to buy ; 
 
 
 There they met the Earl 0' Hume, 
 
 And a bonnie clerk's fa'en in love wi' her, 
 
 
 And his young son, were riding bonnie. 
 
 And he's followed her by and by— 
 
 by; 
 And he's followed her by and by. 
 
 
 Then out it spake the young Earl Hume, 
 
 
 Dear but he spake wond'rous gaudie ; 
 
 
 
 " I'm wae to see sae fair a dame 
 
 " where live ye, my bonnie lass, 
 
 
 Biding alang wi' a Highland laddie." 
 
 I pray thee tell to me ; 
 For gin the nicht were ever sae mirk, 
 
 
 " Hold your tongue; ye young Earl Hume, 
 
 I wad come and visit thee — 
 
 
 dear but ye do speak right gaudie ; 
 
 thee; 
 
 
 There's nae a lord in a' the south, 
 
 I wad come and visit thee." 
 
 
 Dare e'er compete wi' a Highland laddie." 
 
 " O my father he aye locks the door, 
 
 
 Then he rade five miles through the north, 
 
 My mither keeps the key ; 
 
 
 Through mony hills sae rough and scroggie , 
 
 And gin ye were ever sic a wily wight, 
 
 
 Till they came down to a low glen, 
 
 Ye canna win in to me — 
 
 
 And he lay down wi" bonnie Peggy. 
 
 me; 
 Ye canna win in to me." 
 
 
 Then he enclosed her in his arms, 
 
 
 
 And row'd her in his tartan plaidie; [house, 
 
 But the clerk he had ae true brother, 
 
 
 " There are blankets and sheets in my father's 
 
 And a wily wight was he ; 
 
 
 How have I lien down wi' a' Highland laddie!" 
 
 And he has made a lang ladder 
 Was thirty steps and three — 
 
 
 6ays he, " There are sheep in my father's fauld, 
 
 three; 
 
 
 And every year their wool is ready ; 
 
 Was thirty steps and three. 
 
 
 By the same our debts we pay, 
 
 
 
 Although I be but a Highland laddie. 
 
 He has made a cleek but and a creel — 
 A creel but and a pin ; 
 
 
 "There are fifty cows in my father's byre, 
 
 And he's away to the chimley-top, 
 
 
 That all are tyed to the stakes, and ready; 
 
 And he's letten the bonnie clerk in— 
 
 
 Five thousand pounds I ha'e ilk year, 
 
 in ; 
 
 
 Although I be but a Highland laddie. 
 
 And he's letten the bonnie clerk in. 
 
 

 
 
 36 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 The auld wife, being not asleep, & " if the foul thiefs gotten ye, 
 
 
 Heard something that was said ; 
 
 I wish he may keep his haud; 
 
 
 " I'll lay my life," quo' the silly auld wife, 
 
 For a' the lee lang winter nicht, 
 
 
 " There's a man i' our dochter's bed- 
 
 Ye'll never lie in your bed — 
 
 
 bed; 
 
 bed; 
 
 
 There's a man i' our dochter's bed." 
 
 Ye'll never lie in your bed." 
 
 
 The auld man he gat owre the bed, 
 
 He's towed her up, he's towed her down. 
 
 
 To see if the thing was true ; 
 
 He's towed her through an' through: 
 
 
 But she's ta'en the bonnie clerk in her arms, 
 
 "0 Gude, assist," quo' the silly auld wife; 
 
 
 And cover'd him owre wi' blue — 
 
 "For I'm just departin' now — 
 
 
 blue; 
 
 now; 
 
 
 And cover'd him owre wi' blue. 
 
 For I'm just departin' now." 
 
 
 " where are ye gaun now, father," she says, 
 
 He's towed her up, he's towed her down, 
 
 
 " And where are ye gaun sae late ? 
 
 He's gi'en her a richt down fa', 
 
 
 Ye've disturb'd me in my evening prayers, 
 
 Till every rib i' the auld wife's side 
 
 
 And but they were sweet — 
 
 Play'd nick nack on the wa' — 
 
 
 sweet; 
 
 wa*; 
 
 
 And but they were sweet." 
 
 Play'd nick nack on the wa*. 
 
 
 " ill betide ye, silly auld wife, 
 
 the blue, the bonnie, bonnie blue; 
 
 
 And an ill death may ye die : 
 
 And I wish the blue may do weel: 
 
 
 She has the muckle buik in her arms, 
 
 And every auld wife that's sae jealous o' hei 
 
 
 And she's prayin' for you and me — 
 
 dochter, 
 
 
 me; 
 
 May she get a good keach i' the creel — 
 
 
 And she's prayin' for you and me." 
 
 creel ; 
 May she get a gude keach i' the creel ! 
 
 
 The auld wife being not asleep, 
 
 
 
 Then something mair was said; 
 
 
 
 " I'll lay my life," quo' the silly auld wife, 
 
 
 
 
 " There's a man i' our dochter's bed- 
 
 
 
 bed ; 
 
 
 
 There's a man i' our dochter's bed." 
 
 ffl&t ft^gd §bisiK%. 
 
 
 The auld wife she got owre the bed, 
 
 
 
 To see if the thing was true ; 
 But what the wrack took the auld wife's fit ? 
 
 [Modern Ballad, written by "William Oli- 
 
 
 For into the creel she flew — 
 
 ver, of Langraw, in Eoxburghshire, and here 
 
 
 flew; 
 
 first printed.] 
 
 
 For into the creel she flew. 
 
 There were twae lovers, lovers leal, 
 
 
 The man that was at the chimley-top, 
 
 Twae lovers leal and true ; 
 
 
 Finding the creel was fu', 
 
 But they wha love maist earnestly, 
 
 
 He wrappit the rape round his left shouther, 
 
 Will oft the sairest rue. 
 
 
 And fast to him he drew — 
 
 
 
 drew; 
 
 Oh sweet the time thae lovers dear ' 
 
 
 And fast to him he drew. 
 
 Did spend wi' ane another ; ' 
 "Wherever ane o' them might be, 
 
 
 " help, help, hinny, now help; 
 
 There surely was the other. 
 
 
 help, O hinny, now; 
 
 
 
 For him that ye aye wished me to, 
 
 And a' was fresh, and a' was fair, 
 
 
 He's carryin' me off just now — 
 
 Oh fair baith e'en and morn ; 
 
 
 now; 
 
 They thought to pu' life's budding rose, 
 
 
 He's carryin' me off just now." s 
 
 'f And never find its thorn. 
 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 37 
 
 A' care was lost— a' thought of woe ; 
 
 Stern truth had changed his guise, 
 O'er coloured by the glamourie 
 
 That dwells in lovers' eyes. 
 
 Oh passion fierce for earthly things, 
 Whate'er these things may he, 
 
 What tene and terror, want and woe, 
 Thou gars puir mortals dree. 
 
 The sun will set, the sand will run, 
 
 And life will fleet away : 
 Ane o' thir lovers curst his fate — 
 
 His flower was turned to clay. 
 
 The flower he cherished o'er a' things, 
 
 Had withered in a day ; 
 The maid he lo'ed 'boon earth and heaven, 
 
 Fell death had borne away. 
 
 He raged, and raved, and curst his fate; 
 
 Lay down and wished to dee, — 
 " Oh who on earth has e'er been mocked — 
 
 Has had a fate like me ? 
 
 "Unfold, oh death, thy griesly ports; 
 
 Grim thief, give back my love. 
 Oh, is there nought, that man may do, 
 
 That shall thy pity move ?" 
 
 All as he spoke, a twinkling star, 
 
 Far in the welkin blue, 
 Descended with, a golden train, 
 
 And near and nearer drew; 
 
 And, bright'ning as it nearer came, 
 
 A form disclosed to sight, 
 Reclining on a fleecy cluud, 
 
 All steeped in heavenly light. 
 
 Ah, well he knew that angel face, 
 Though now, for fairer grown ; 
 
 And brighter far the yellow hair, 
 That hung her form adown. 
 
 " 'Tis she ! 'tis she ! my lost! my love! 
 
 My life ! my heaven : my all ! 
 Come to my arms ! I did but dream 
 
 Of death, and sable pall." 
 
 " Give o'er," she said, "such wicked strife; 
 
 Submit to heaven's decree; 
 Thy impious pray'r can ne'er be heard; 
 
 I come no more to thee. 
 
 " But, from my lattice in the sky, 
 
 I'll look on thee below, 
 And shed the choicest dews of heaven 
 
 Upon thy fevered brow. 
 
 " Submit ! repent I" — On this, again 
 
 To heaven she soar'd away. 
 " Oh stay," the frantic lover cried, 
 
 " Oh stay, my loved one, stay !" 
 
 Again he curst with frantic rage 
 
 The wierd he had to dree, 
 Again he cried, " Whoe'er was mocked, 
 
 Or had a fate like me ?" 
 
 When lo ! a red and lurid star 
 Approached to where he stood ; 
 
 The shades of night were dimly lit, 
 And tinged with hue of blood. 
 
 There stood a figure palled in cloud, 
 The wrack of thunder storm, 
 
 And aye by fits the writhing mass 
 Disclosed a half-seen form. 
 
 The earth did groan. Each living thing 
 
 Fled fast, and far away — 
 " What would you gi'e to gain your love, 
 
 Now tell me, child of clay ?" 
 
 " I'd gi'e the world, if it were mine, 
 Oh mair than e'er was given: 
 
 I'd gi'e, to ha'e my true love back, 
 Earth's hopes— the joys of heaven." 
 
 The echo shrunk, sae drear the yell 
 
 That burst into her caves. 
 ■Twas like a sound to wake the dead, 
 
 And rouse them frae their graves. 
 
 The night-clad lake moved in its depth;, 
 And heaved frae shore to shore, 
 
 And rolled its flood in one wide wave, 
 And gave one sullen roar. 
 
 That dread unearthly yell has ceased, 
 
 And all again is still; 
 Gone is the fiend, and gone the man 
 
 That wouldna' bend his will. 
 
 The raven croaks above yon glen, 
 
 And views a mangled prey, 
 Then soars aloft, in eager haste, 
 
 And hies him fast away. 
 

 
 
 
 38 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 'Tis there he lies, "rnong jagged rocks, ^fe " The guid steed that I ride upon, 
 
 
 
 That lost — misguided one. 
 
 Cost me thrice thretty pound ; 
 
 
 
 The mother, on whose breast he lay, 
 
 And I'll put trust in his swift feet, 
 
 
 
 Might fail to know her son. 
 
 To ha'e me safe to land." 
 As he rade ower yon high, high hill, 
 
 
 
 
 And down yon dowie den, 
 The noise that was in Clyde's water 
 
 
 
 W&9 IpTOfomrt) %®htxt. 
 
 Would feard five huner men. 
 " roaring Clyde, ye roar ower loud, 
 
 
 
 [From Mr Buchan's Ballads. A fragment of 
 
 Your streams seem wond'rous Strang, 
 
 
 
 this previously appeared in Mr Jamieson's col- 
 
 Make me your wreck as I come back, 
 
 
 
 lection, under the title of " Willie and May 
 
 But spare me as I gang." 
 
 
 
 Margaret." The catastrophe of this rude but 
 
 
 
 
 pathetic ballad, it will be seen, is brought about 
 
 Then he is on to Meggie's bower, 
 
 
 
 through means similar to those used in " Pair 
 
 And tirled at the pin ; 
 
 
 
 .Annie of Lochryan" — the deception, namely, of 
 
 " sleep ye, wake ye, Meggie," he said, 
 
 
 
 a mother answering in the voice of a lover.] 
 
 " Yell open, lat me come in." 
 
 
 
 Willie stands in his stable door, 
 
 " wha is this at my bower door, 
 
 
 
 And clapping at his steed ; 
 
 That calls me by my name ?" 
 
 
 
 And looking o'er his white fingers. 
 
 " It is your first love, sweet Willie, 
 
 
 
 His nose began to bleed. 
 
 This night newly come hame." 
 
 
 
 " Gi'e corn to my horse, mother, 
 
 And meat to my young man ; 
 
 And I'll awa' to Meggies bower, 
 
 " I ha'e few lovers thereout, thereout, 
 
 As few ha'e I therein ; 
 The best an' love that ever I had, 
 
 
 
 I'll win ere she lie down." 
 
 Was here just late yestreen." 
 " The warstan stable in a' your stables, 
 
 
 
 " bide this night wi' me, Willie, 
 
 For my puir steed to stand ; 
 
 
 
 bide this night wi' me ; 
 
 The warstan bower in a' your bowers, 
 
 
 
 The best an' cock o' a' the reest 
 
 For me to lie therein : 
 
 
 
 At your supper shall be." 
 
 My boots are fu' o' Clyde's wnter, 
 I'm shivering at the chin." 
 
 
 
 " A' your cocks, and a' your reests, 
 
 
 
 
 I value not a prin ; 
 
 "My barns are fu' o' corn, Willie, 
 
 
 
 For I'll awa' to Meggie's bower, 
 
 My stables are fu' o' hay; 
 
 
 
 I'll win ere she lie down." 
 
 My bowers are fu' o' gentlemen, 
 They'll nae remove till day." 
 
 
 
 " Stay this night wi' me, Willie, 
 
 
 
 
 stay this night wi' me ; 
 
 " fare-ye-well, my fause Meggie, 
 
 
 
 The best an' sheep in a' the flock 
 
 farewell, and adieu; 
 
 
 
 At your supper shall be." 
 
 I've gotten my mither's malison, 
 This night coming to you." 
 
 
 
 " A* your sheep, and a' your flocks, 
 
 As he rode ower yon high, high hill, 
 
 
 
 I value not a prin ; 
 
 And down yon dowie den; 
 
 
 
 For I'll awa' to Meggie's bower, 
 
 The rushing that was in Clyde's water, 
 
 
 
 I'll win ere she lie down." 
 
 Took Willie's cane frae him. 
 
 
 
 " an' ye gang to Meggie's bower, 
 
 He lean'd him ower his saddle bow, 
 
 
 
 Sae sair against my will ; 
 
 To catch his cane again ; 
 
 
 
 The deepest pot in Clyde's water, 
 
 My malison ye's feel. < 
 
 The rushing that was in Clyde's water. 
 
 
 
 \ Took Willie's hat frae him. 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 39 
 
 
 Be lean'd him ower his saddle bow, & 
 
 
 
 To catch his hat through force ; 
 
 
 
 
 The rushing that was in Clyde's water, 
 Took Willie frae his horse. 
 
 Jbn HsoMg t$t ^®$e. 
 
 
 
 His brither stood upo' the bank, 
 
 [Ths present copy of the original ballad o\ 
 
 
 
 Says, " Fye, man, will ye drown ? 
 
 Sir James the Eose is given chiefly from oral re- 
 
 
 
 Ye'll turn ye to your high horse head, 
 
 j citation, compared with Motherwell's and other 
 
 
 
 And learn how to sowm." 
 
 versions.—" This old north country ballad," says 
 Motherwell, " which appears to lie founded on 
 
 
 
 " How can I turn to my horse head, 
 
 fact, is well known in almost every corner of 
 
 
 
 And learn how to sowm ? 
 
 Scotland. Pinkerton printed it in his Tragic 
 
 
 
 I've gotten my mither's malison, 
 
 Ballads, 1781, 'from,' as he says, 'a modern 
 
 
 
 It's here that I maun drown!" 
 
 edition in one sheet 12mo, after the old copy.' 
 Notwithstanding this reference to authority, the 
 
 
 
 The very hour this young man sank 
 
 ballad certainly received a few conjectural emen- 
 
 
 
 Into the pot sae deep, 
 
 dations from his own pen; at least, the present 
 
 
 
 Up waken 'd his love, Meggie, 
 
 version, which is given as it occurs in early stall 
 
 
 
 Out 0' her drowsy sleep. 
 
 prints, and as it is to be obtained from the reci- 
 tations of elderly people, does not exactly cor- 
 
 
 
 " Come here, come here, my mither dear, 
 
 respond with his. Two modern ballads have 
 
 
 
 And read this dreary dream ; 
 
 sprung out of this old one, namely, Sir James 
 
 
 
 I dream'd my love was at our yates, 
 
 the Boss, and Elfrida and Sir James of Perth. 
 
 
 
 And nane wad let him in." 
 
 The first of these is said to have been written by 
 Michael Bruce ; the later is an anonymous pro- 
 
 
 
 " Lye still, lye still now, my Meggie, 
 
 duction, and has found its way into Evans' Col- 
 
 
 
 Lye still and tak' your rest; 
 
 lection—vide Vol. IV. Edin. 1810. It might be 
 
 
 
 Sin' your true love was at our yates, 
 
 curious to ascertain which of these mournful 
 
 
 
 It's but twa quarters past." 
 
 ditties is the senior, were it for nothing else 
 than perfectly to enjoy the cool impudence with 
 
 
 
 Nimbly, nimbly, raise she up, 
 
 which the graceless youngster has appropriated 
 
 
 
 And nimbly pat she on; 
 
 to itself, without thanks or acknowledgment, all 
 
 
 
 And the higher that the lady cried, 
 
 the best things which occur in the other."] 
 
 
 
 The louder blew the win'. 
 
 hkabd ye 0' Sir James the Eose, 
 
 
 
 The first an' step that she stepp'd in, 
 
 The young heir 0' Buleichan ? 
 
 
 
 She stepped to the queet ; 
 
 For he has killed a gallant squire, 
 
 
 
 " Ohon, alas !" said that lady, 
 
 Whase friends are out to tak* him 
 
 
 
 " This water's wond'rous deep." 
 
 Now he's gane to the house of Mar, 
 
 
 
 The next an' step that she wade in, 
 
 Whar the nourice was his leman ; 
 
 
 
 She wadit to the knee ; 
 
 To seek his dear he did repair, 
 
 
 
 Says she, "I could wade farther in, 
 
 Weening she might befriend him. 
 
 
 
 If I my love could see." 
 
 " Whare are ye gaun, Sir James?" she 
 
 
 
 The next an' step that she wade in, 
 
 said; 
 
 
 
 She wadit to the chin ; 
 
 " Or wharawa are ye riding ?" 
 
 
 
 The deepest pot in Clyde's water 
 
 " Oh, I am bound to a foreign land, 
 
 
 
 She got sweet Willie in. 
 
 And now I'm under hiding 
 
 
 
 " You've had a cruel mither, Willie, 
 
 " Whar sail I gae, whar sail I rin, 
 
 
 
 And I have had anither ; 
 
 Whar sail I rin to stay me ? 
 
 
 
 But we shall sleep in Clyde's water, 
 
 For I ha'e kill'd a gallant squire, 
 
 
 
 Like sister an" like brither." as And his friends they seek to slay me." 
 
 
 
 
 
 
40 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 " gae ye down to yon ale-house ; i 
 
 I sail pay there your lawin' ; 
 And as I am your leman true, 
 
 I'll meet you at the da win'." 
 
 ^ Then out and spak' Sir John the Graeme, 
 Wha had the charge a-keeping, 
 " It's ne'er be said, my stalwart feres, 
 We killed him when a-sleeping." 
 
 " I'll no go down to yon ale-house 
 For you to pay my lawin' ; 
 
 There's forty shillings for one supper, 
 I'll stay in't till the dawin'." 
 
 They seized his broadsword and his targe, 
 And closely him surrounded ; 
 
 And when he wakened out of sleep, 
 His senses were confounded.f 
 
 He turned him richt and round about, 
 And rowed him in his brechan ; 
 
 And laid him down to tak' a sleep, 
 In the lawlands o' Buleichan. 
 
 " pardon, pardon, gentlemen — 
 Have mercy now upon me." 
 
 " Sic as ye gae, sic ye sail ha'e, 
 And so we fall upon thee." 
 
 He has na weel gane out o' sight, 
 Nor was he past Milstrethen, 
 
 When four-and-twenty beltit knichts 
 Cam' riding ower the Lethan. 
 
 " Donald, my man, wait till I fa', 
 And ye sail get my brechan : 
 
 Ye'll get my purse, though fu' o' gowd, 
 To tak' me to Loch Lagan." 
 
 " ha'e ye seen Sir James the Eose, 
 The young heir o' Buleichan ? 
 
 For he has killed a gallant squire, 
 And we are sent to tak' him." 
 
 Syne they took out his bleeding heart, 
 
 And set it on a speir; 
 Then took it to the house o' Mar, 
 
 And show'd to his deir. 
 
 " Yes, I ha'e seen Sir James," she said ; 
 
 "He passed by here on Monday; 
 Gin the steed be swift that he rides on, 
 
 He's past the heichts o' Lundie." 
 
 " We couldna gi'e ye Sir James's purse, 
 Nor yet could we his brechan ; 
 
 But ye sail ha'e his bleeding heart, 
 But and his bloody tartan." 
 
 But as wi' speed they rode away, 
 She loudly cried behind them, 
 
 " Gin ye'll gi'e me a worthy meed, 
 I'll tell ye whar to find him."" 
 
 " Sir James the Eose, oh, for thy sake, 
 My heart is now a-breaking ; 
 
 Cursed be the day I wrocht thy wae, 
 Thou brave heir o' Buleichan !" 
 
 " tell, fair maid, and, on our band, 
 Ye'se get his purse and brechan." 
 
 " He's in the bank abune the mill, 
 In the lands o' Buleichan. 
 
 Then up she rase, and furth she gaes; 
 
 And, in that hour o' tein, 
 She wandered to the dowie glen, 
 
 And never mair was seen. 
 
 " Ye must not a-wake him out of sleep, 
 Nor in the least affright him ; 
 
 But through his heart ye'll run a dart, 
 And through the body pierce him." 
 
 They sought the bank abune the mill, 
 In the lowlands of Buleichan, 
 
 And there they found Sir James the Rose, 
 Lying sleeping in his brechan. 
 
 But where she went was never kent; 
 
 And so, to end the matter, 
 A traitor's end you may depend 
 
 Can never be no better. 
 
 f Another reading — 
 
 They seized his braidsword and his targe, 
 
 And closely him surrounded: 
 
 "O mercy, mercy, gentlemen!" 
 
 He then fu' loudly sounded. 
 
 " Sic as ye gae, sic ye sail ha'e ; 
 On nathing less we reckon." 
 
 • Another reading — 
 
 As they rode on man after man, 
 
 Then she cried out behind them, 
 "If you do seek Sir James the Kose, 
 
 I'll tell you where you'll find him." < 
 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 41 
 
 SIR JAMES THE ROSE. 
 
 [This very popular modern ballad is said to 
 nave been written by Michael Bruce, (born 
 1746; died 1767,) whose life is so touchingly 
 commemorated in " The Mirror."] 
 
 Of all the Scottish northern chiefs, 
 
 Of high and warlike name, 
 The bravest was Sir James the Rose, 
 
 A knicht of meikle fame. 
 
 His growth was as the tufted fir, 
 That crowns the mountain's brow ; 
 
 And, waving o'er his shoulders broad, 
 His loeks of yellow flew. 
 
 The chieftain of the brave clan Ross, 
 
 A firm undaunted band ; 
 Five hundred warriors drew their sword, 
 
 Beneath his high command. 
 
 In bloody fight thrice had he stood, 
 
 Against the English keen, 
 Ere two and twenty opening springs 
 
 This blooming youth had seen. 
 
 The fair Matilda dear he loved, 
 
 A maid of beauty rare ; 
 Ev'n Margaret on the Scottish throne 
 
 "Was never half so fair. 
 
 Lang had he wooed, lang she refused, 
 With seeming scorn and pride ; 
 
 Yet aft her eyes confessed the love 
 Her fearful words denied. 
 
 At last she blessed his well-tried faith, 
 
 Allowed his tender claim : 
 She vowed to him her virgin heart, 
 
 And owned an equal flame. 
 
 Her father, Buchan's cruel lord, 
 
 Their passion disapproved ; 
 And bade her wed Sir John the Graeme, 
 
 And leave the youth she loved. 
 
 Ae nicht they met, as they were wont, 
 
 Beep in a shady wood, 
 Where, on a bank beside a burn, 
 
 A blooming saugh-tree stood. < 
 
 1 sooner pierce my heart 
 
 Concealed among the underwood, 
 
 The crafty Donald lay, 
 The brother of Sir John the Graeme; 
 
 To hear what they would say. 
 
 "When thus the maid began : " My sire 
 
 Your passion disapproves, 
 And bids me wed Sir John the Graeme ; 
 
 So here must end our loves. 
 
 " My father's will must be obeyed ; 
 
 Nocht boots me to withstand ; 
 Some fairer maid, in beauty's bloom, 
 
 Must bless thee with her hand. 
 
 " Matilda soon shall be forgot, 
 
 And from thy mind effaced: 
 But may that happiness be thine, 
 
 "Which I can never taste." 
 
 " What do I hear ? Is this thy vow ?* 
 
 Sir James the Rose replied : 
 " And will Matilda wed the Graeme, 
 
 Though sworn to be my bride ? 
 
 " His sword 
 
 Than reave me of thy charms. 
 Then clasped her to his beating breast, 
 
 Fast lock'd into his arms. 
 
 " I spake to try thy love," she said ; 
 
 " I'll ne'er wed man but thee : 
 My grave shall be my bridal bed, 
 
 Ere Graeme my husband be. 
 
 " Take then, dear ycuth, this faithful kiss, 
 
 In witness of my troth ; 
 And eve-.y plague become my lot, 
 
 That day I break my oath!" 
 
 They parted thus: the sun was set: 
 
 Up hasty Donald flies ; 
 And, "Turn thee, turn thee, beardless youth! 
 
 He loud insulting cries. 
 
 Soon turn'd about the fearless chief, 
 
 And soon his sword he drew; 
 For Donald's blade, before his breast^ 
 
 Had pierced his tartans through. 
 
 " This for my brother's slighted love; 
 
 His wrongs sit on my arm." 
 Three paces back the youth retired, 
 
 And saved himself from harm. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 42 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 Returning swift, his hand he reared, i 
 
 \ " For he hath slain Sir Donald Graeme, 
 
 
 
 Frae Donald's head above, 
 
 His blood is on his sword : 
 
 
 
 And through the brain and crashing bones 
 
 And far, far distant are his men, 
 
 
 
 His sharp-edged weapon drove. 
 
 That should assist their lord." 
 
 
 
 He staggering reeled, then tumbled down, 
 
 " And has he slain my brother dear f" 
 
 
 
 A lump of breathless clay : 
 
 The furious Graeme replies : 
 
 
 
 " So fall my foes !" quoth valiant Rose, 
 
 " Dishonour blast my name, but he 
 
 
 
 And stately strode away. 
 
 By me, ere morning, dies ! 
 
 
 
 Through the green -wood he quickly hied, 
 
 " Tell me where is Sir James the Rose ; 
 
 
 
 Unto Lord Buchan's hall; 
 
 I will thee well reward." 
 
 
 
 And at Matilda's window stood, 
 
 " He sleeps into Lord Buchan's park ; 
 
 
 
 And thus began to call : 
 
 Matilda is his guard." 
 
 
 
 " Art thou asleep, Matilda dear t 
 
 They spurred their steeds in furious mood, 
 
 
 
 Awake, my love, awake ! 
 
 And scoured along the lee; 
 
 
 
 Thy luckless lover on thee calls, 
 
 They reached Lord Buchan's lofty towers, 
 
 
 
 A long farewell to take. 
 
 By dawning of the day. 
 
 
 
 For I have slain fierce Donald Graeme ; 
 
 Matilda stood without the gate ; 
 
 
 
 His blood is on my sword : 
 
 To whom the Graeme did say, 
 
 
 
 And distant are my faithful men, 
 
 " Saw ye Sir James the Rose last night? 
 
 
 
 Nor can assist their lord. 
 
 Or did he pass this way ?" 
 
 
 
 To Skye I'll now direct my way, 
 
 " Last day, at noon," Matilda said, 
 
 
 
 "Where my two brothers hide, 
 
 " Sir James the Rose passed by : 
 
 
 
 And raise the valiant of the Isles, 
 
 He furious pricked his sweaty steed, 
 
 
 
 To combat on my side." 
 
 And onward fast did hie. 
 
 
 
 " do not so," the maid replies ; 
 
 " By this he is at Edinburgh, 
 
 
 
 " With me till morning stay ; 
 
 If horse and man hold good." 
 
 
 
 For dark and dreary is the night, 
 
 " Your page, then, lied, who said he was 
 
 
 
 And dangerous the way. 
 
 Now sleeping in the wood." 
 
 
 
 All night I'll watch you in the park • 
 
 She wrung her hands, and tore her hair 
 
 
 
 My faithful page I'll send, 
 
 " Bra\e Rose, thou art betrayed ; 
 
 
 
 To run and raise the Ross's clan, 
 
 And ruined by those means," she cried, 
 
 
 
 Their master to defend." 
 
 " From whence I hoped thino aid \" 
 
 
 
 Beneath a hush he laid him down, 
 
 By this the valiant knight awoke; 
 
 
 
 And wrapped him in his plaid ; 
 
 The virgin's shrieks he heard ; 
 
 
 
 While, trembling for her lover's fate, 
 
 And up he rose and drew his sword, 
 
 
 
 At distance stood the maid. 
 
 When the fierce band appeared. 
 
 
 
 Swift ran the page o'er hill and dale, 
 
 " Tour sword last night my brother slew } 
 
 
 
 Till, in a lonely glen, 
 
 His blood yet dims its shine : 
 
 
 
 He met the furious Sir John Gra?me, 
 
 And, ere the setting of the sun, 
 
 
 
 "With twenty of his men. 
 
 Your blood shall reek on mine." 
 
 
 
 " Where go'st thou, little page ?" he said ; 
 
 You word it well," the chief replied ; 
 
 
 
 " So late who did thee send ?" 
 
 " But deeds approve the man : 
 
 
 
 " I go to raise the Ross's clan, 
 
 Set by your band, and, hand to hand, 
 
 
 
 Their master to defend ; ^ 
 
 } We'll try what valour can. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 !: 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 43 
 
 
 " Oft boasting hides a coward's heart ; ^w 
 
 
 
 My weighty sword you fear, 
 
 
 
 
 Which shone in front of Flodden -field, 
 When you kept in the rear." 
 
 fflfyz §s&nmm^ of fclifcfojag. 
 
 
 
 With dauntless step he forward strode, 
 
 [Modern Ballad. — Allan Cunningham. — 
 
 
 
 And dared him to the fight: 
 
 From Cromek's "Remains of Nithsdale and 
 
 
 
 But Graeme gave back, and feared his arm ; 
 
 Galloway Song," 1810.] 
 
 
 
 For well he knew its might. 
 
 There's a maid has sat o' the green merse side, 
 
 
 
 Four of his men, the bravest four, 
 
 Thae ten lang years and mair; 
 
 
 
 Sunk down beneath his sword : 
 
 And, every first nicht o' the new mune, 
 
 
 
 But still he scorned the poor revenge, 
 
 She kames her yellow hair. 
 
 
 
 And sought their haughty lord. 
 
 And aye, while she sheds the yellow burning 
 
 
 
 Behind hirn basely came the Graeme, 
 
 gowd, 
 
 
 
 And pierc'd him in the side : 
 
 Fu' sweit she sings and hie; 
 
 
 
 Out spouting came the purple tide, 
 
 Till the fairest bird in the green wood 
 
 
 
 And all his tartans dyed. 
 
 Is charmed wi' her melodie. 
 
 
 
 But yet his sword quat not the grip, 
 
 But wha e'er listens to that sweet sang, 
 
 
 
 Nor dropt he to the ground, 
 
 Or gangs the fair dame te, 
 
 
 
 Till through his enemy's heart his steel 
 
 Ne'er hears the sang o' the lark again, 
 
 
 
 Had forced a mortal wound. 
 
 Nor waukens an earthlie e'e. 
 
 
 
 1 
 Graeme, like a tree with wind o'erthrown, 
 
 It fell in about the sweet summer month, 
 
 
 
 Fell breathless on the clay ; 
 
 I' the first come o' the mune, 
 
 
 
 And do%vn beside hiin sank the Eose, 
 
 That she sat o' the tap o' a sea-weed rock, 
 
 
 
 And faint and dying lay. 
 
 A-kaming her silk locks doun. 
 
 
 
 The sad Matilda saw him fall : 
 
 . Her kame was o' the whitely pearl, 
 
 
 
 " Oh, spare his life !" she cried ; 
 
 Her hand like new -won milk; 
 
 
 
 " Lord Buchan's daughter begs his life ; 
 
 Her bosom was like the snawy curd, 
 
 
 
 Let her not be denied !" 
 
 In a net o' sea-green silk. 
 
 
 
 Her well-known voice the hero heard ; 
 
 She kamedher locks ower her white shoulders, 
 
 
 
 He raised his death-closed eyes, 
 
 A fleece baith wide and lang ; 
 
 
 
 And fixed them on the weeping maid, 
 
 And, ilka ringlet she shed frae her brows, 
 
 
 
 And weakly thus replies : 
 
 She raised a lichtsome sang. 
 
 
 
 " In vain Matilda begs the life, 
 
 I' the very first lilt o' that sweet sang, 
 
 
 
 By death's arrest denied : 
 
 The birds forhood their young, 
 
 
 
 My race is run — adieu, my love" — 
 
 And they flew i' the gate o' the grey howlet, 
 
 
 
 Then closed his eyes and died. 
 
 To listen to the sweet maiden. 
 
 
 
 The sword, yet warm, from his left side 
 
 I" the second lilt o' that sweet sang, 
 
 
 
 With frantic hand she drew : 
 
 0' sweetness it was sae fu', 
 
 
 
 " I come, Sir James the Rose," she cried ; 
 
 The tod lap up ower our fauld-dike, 
 
 
 
 " I come to follow you !" 
 
 And dichtit his red-wat mou'. 
 
 
 
 She leaned the hilt against the ground, 
 
 I' the very third lilt o' that sweet sang, 
 
 
 
 And bared her snowy breast ; 
 
 Red lowed the new-woke moon ; 
 
 
 
 Then fell upon her lover's face. 
 
 The stars drappit blude on the yellow gnwan 
 
 
 
 And sunk to endless rest. ( 
 
 5 Sax miles round that maiden. [tap. 
 
 
 
44 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 " I ha'e dwalt on the Nith," quoth the young "* 
 " Thae twenty years and three ; [Cowehill, 
 
 But the sweetest sang I ever heard 
 Comes through the greenwood to me. 
 
 " O, is it a voice frae twa earthlie lips, 
 
 That rnaks sic melody ? 
 It wad wyle the lark frae the morning lift, 
 
 And weel may it wyle me !" 
 
 " I dreamed a dreary dream, master, 
 
 Whilk I am rad ye rede ; 
 I dreamed ye kissed a pair o' sweet lips, 
 
 That drapped o' red heart's-blude." 
 
 "Come, haud my steed, ye little foot-page, 
 
 Shod wi' the red gowd roun' ; 
 Till I kiss the lips whilk sing sae sweet:" 
 
 And lichtlie lap he doun. 
 
 " Kiss nae the singer's lips, master, 
 
 Kiss nae the singer's chin; 
 Touch nae her hand," quoth the little foot- 
 
 " If skaithless hame ye wad win. [page, 
 
 " 0, wha will sit in your toom saddle, 
 
 O wha will bruik your giuve ; 
 And wha will fauld your erled bride 
 
 In the kindlie clasps o' luve ?" 
 
 He took aff his hat, a' gowd i' the rim, 
 
 Knot wi' a siller ban' ; 
 He seemed a' in lowe with his gowd raiment, 
 
 As through the greenwood he ran. 
 
 " The summer dew fa's saft, fair maid, 
 
 Aneath the siller mune ; 
 But eerie is thy seat i' the rock, 
 
 Washed wi' the white sea faem. 
 
 " Come, wash me wi' thy lilie-white hand, 
 
 Below and 'boon the knee ; 
 And I'll kame thae links o' yellow burning gowd, 
 
 Aboon thy bonnie blue e'e. 
 
 " How rosie are thy parting lips, 
 
 How lilie-white thy skin ! 
 And, weel I wat, thae kissing een 
 
 "Wad tempt a saint to sin 1" 
 
 " Tak' aff thae bars and bobs o' gowd, 
 
 Wi' thy gared doublet fine ; 
 And thiaw me aff thy green mantle, 
 
 Leafed wi' the siller twine. 
 
 " And a' in courtesie, fair knicht, 
 
 A maiden's mind to win : 
 The gowd lacing o' thy green weeds 
 
 Wad harm her lilie skin." 
 
 Syne cuist he aff his green mantle. 
 
 Hemmed wi' the red gowd roun'; 
 His costly doublet cuist he aff, 
 
 Wi' red gowd flowered doun. 
 
 " Now ye maun kame my yellow hair, 
 
 Doun wi' my pearlie kame; 
 Then rowe me in thy green mantle, 
 
 And tak' me maiden hame. 
 
 " But first come tak' me 'neath the chin ; 
 
 And, syne, come kiss my cheek ; 
 And spread my hanks o' watery hair, 
 
 I' the new-moon beam to dreep." 
 
 Sae first he kissed her dimpled chin, 
 
 Syne kissed her rosie cheek; 
 And lang he wooed her willing lips, 
 
 Like heather-hinnie sweet! 
 
 "0 if ye'll come to bonnie Cowehill, 
 
 'Mang primrose banks to woo, 
 I'll wash thee ilk day i' the new-milked milk, 
 
 And bind wi' gowd your brou. 
 
 " And, a' for a drink o' the clear water, 
 
 Te'se ha'e the rosie wine ; 
 And, a' for the water-lilie white, 
 
 Ye'se ha'e thae arms o' mine!" 
 
 " But what will she say, your bonnie young 
 Busked wi' the siller fine ; [bride, 
 
 When the rich kisses ye keepit for her lips, 
 Are left wi' vows on mine ?" 
 
 He took his lips frae her red-rose mou', 
 His arm frae her waist sae sma' ; 
 
 *' Sweet maiden, I'm in bridal speed — 
 It's time I were awa*. 
 
 " O gi'e me a token o' luve, sweet may, 
 
 A leil luve token true;" 
 She crapped a lock o' her yellow hair, 
 
 And knotted it round his brou. 
 
 " Oh, tie it nae sae strait, sweet may, 
 
 But wi' luve's rose-knot kynde 
 My heid is fu' o' burning pain ; 
 
 Oh, saft ye maun it bind." 
 

 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 45 
 
 
 
 His skin turned a' o' the red-rose hue, i 
 
 ^ Lythlie she sang, while the new mune rase, 
 
 
 
 Wi' draps o' bludie sweat; 
 
 Blythe as a young bryde may, 
 
 
 
 And he laid his head 'mang the water lilies ■ 
 
 When the new mune lichts her lamp o' luve, 
 
 
 
 "Sweet maiden, I maun sleep." 
 
 And blinks the bryde away. 
 
 
 
 She tyed ae link o' her -wat yellow hair, 
 
 " Nithsdale, thou art a gay garden, 
 
 
 
 Abune his burning bree; 
 
 Wi' monie a winsome flouir; 
 
 
 
 Amang his curling haffet locks, 
 
 But the princeliest rose in that gay garden 
 
 
 
 She knotted knurles three. 
 
 Maun blossom in my bouir. 
 
 
 
 She weaved ower his brow the white lilie, 
 
 " And I will keep the drapping dew 
 
 
 
 Wi' witch-knots mae than nine , 
 
 Frae my red rose's tap ; 
 
 
 
 " Gif ye were seven times bridegroom ower, 
 
 And the balmy blobs o" ilka leaf 
 
 
 
 This nicht ye shall be mine." 
 
 I'll keep them drap by drap. 
 And I will wash my white bosom 
 
 
 
 twice he turned his sinking head, 
 
 A' wi' this heavenly sap." 
 
 
 
 And twice he lifted his e'e ; 
 
 
 
 
 twice he socht to lift the links 
 
 And aye she sewed her silken snood, 
 
 
 
 Were knotted ower his bree. 
 
 And sang a bridal sang; 
 But aft the tears drapt frae her e'e, 
 
 
 
 "Arise, sweet knicht; your young bride waits, 
 
 Afore the grey morn cam'. 
 
 
 
 And doubts her ale will soure ; 
 
 
 
 And wistlie looks at the lilie- white sheets, 
 
 The sun lowed ruddie 'mang the dew, 
 
 
 
 Doun-spread in ladie-bouir." 
 
 Sae thick on bank and tree ; 
 
 
 
 And she has prinned the broidered silk 
 About her white hause bane ; 
 
 The plough-boy whistled at his darg, 
 The milk -maid answered hie ; 
 
 
 
 Her princely petticoat is on, 
 Wi' gowd can stand its lane. 
 
 But the lovelie bryde o' Gallowa' 
 Sat wi' a wat-shod e'e. 
 
 
 
 He faintlie, slowlie turned his cheek, 
 
 Ilk breath o* wind 'mang the forest leaves 
 
 
 
 And faintlie lift his e'e ; 
 
 She heard the bridegroom's tongue ; 
 
 
 
 And he strave to lowse the witching bands 
 
 And she heard the brydal -coming lilt, 
 
 
 
 Abune his burning bree. 
 
 In every bird that sung. 
 
 
 
 Then took she up his green mantle, 
 
 She sat high on the tap tower stane ; 
 
 
 
 Of lowing gowd the hem ; 
 
 Nae waiting may was there ; 
 
 
 
 Then took she up his silken cap, 
 
 She lowsed the gowd busk frae her breist, 
 
 
 
 Rich wi' a siller stem ; 
 
 The kame frae 'mang her hair; 
 
 
 
 And she threw them wi' her lilie hand 
 
 She wypit the tear-blobs frae her e'e, 
 
 
 
 Amang the white sea,-faem. 
 
 And lookit lang and sairl 
 
 
 
 She took the bride-ring frae his finger, 
 And threw it in the sea ; 
 
 First sang to her the blythe wee bird, 
 Frae aff the hawthorn green ; 
 
 
 
 " That hand shall mense nae other ring 
 
 " Lowse out the love-curls frae your hair, 
 
 
 
 But wi' the will o' me." 
 
 Ye plaited sae weel yestreen." 
 
 
 
 She faulded him in her lilie arms, 
 
 And the speckled wood-lark, frae 'mang the 
 
 
 
 And left her pearlie kame : 
 
 O' heaven, came singing doun ; [cluds 
 
 
 
 His fleecy locks trailed ower the sand, 
 
 " Tak' out thae bride-knots frae your hair, 
 
 
 
 As she took the white sea-faem. 
 
 And let the locks hang down." 
 
 
 
 First rase the star out ower the hill, 
 
 " Come, byde wi' me, ye pair o' sweet birds. 
 
 
 
 And neist the lovelier moon ; 
 
 Come doun and bide wi' me ; 
 
 
 
 While the beauteous bride o' Gallowa' 
 
 Ye sail peckle o' the bread, and drinK o* the 
 
 
 
 Looked for her blythe bridegroom. ^ 
 
 And gowd your cage sail be." [wine. 
 
 
 
 
46 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 She laid the bride-cake 'neath her head, 
 
 And syne below her feet ; 
 A nd laid her doun 'tween the lilie-white sheets, 
 
 And soundly did she sleep ! 
 
 It was in the mid hour o' the nicht, 
 
 Her siller bell did ring ; 
 And soun't as if nae earthlie hand 
 
 Had pou'rt the silken string. 
 
 There was a cheek touched that ladye's, 
 
 Cauld as the marble stane ; 
 And a hand, cauld as the drifting snow, 
 
 Was laid on her breist-bane. 
 
 " 0, cauld is thy hand, my dear Willie, 
 
 O, cauld, cauld is thy cheek ; 
 And wring thae locks o' yellow hair, 
 
 Frae which the cauld draps dreip." 
 
 "O, seek another brydegroom, Marie, 
 
 On thae bosom faulds to sleep ; 
 My bryde is the yellow water-lilie, 
 
 Its leaves my bridal sheet •" 
 
 [First printed in Scott's Border Minstrelsy. 
 —"This ballad," says Sir Walter, "has been 
 popular in many parts of Scotland. It is chiefly 
 given from Mrs Brown of Falkland's MSS. — 
 The expression, 
 
 « The boy stared wild like a gray goss hawk,' 
 strongly resembles that in Hardyknute, 
 
 ' Norse e'en like gray goss hawk stared wild,' 
 a circumstance which led the editor to make the 
 strictest inquiry into the authenticity of the 
 song. But every doubt was removed by the evi- 
 dence of a lady of high rank, who not only recol- 
 lected the ballad, as having amused her in in- 
 fancy, but could repeat many of the verses : par- 
 ticularly those beautiful stanzas from the 20th to 
 the 25th. The editor is therefore compelled to 
 believe, that the author of Hardyknute copied 
 the old ballad; if the coincidence be not altoge- 
 ther accidental." — It is not unlikely but that the 
 authoress of Hardyknute (Lady Wardlaw) also 
 wrote Fause Foodrage. 
 
 &> King Easter and king Wester, mentioned hi 
 the first verse, " were probably," says Sir Wal- 
 ter, "petty princes of Northumberland and 
 Westmoreland. In the Complaynt of Scotland, 
 an ancient romance is mentioned, under the 
 title, * How the king of Estmureland married 
 the king's daughter of Weetmureland,' which 
 may possibly be the original of the beautiful le 
 gend of King Estmere, in the Reliques of An 
 cient English Poetry, vol. I. p. 62. 4th edit 
 From this it may be conjectured, with some de 
 gree of plausibility, that the independent king 
 doms of the east and west coast were, at an early 
 period, thus denominated, according to the 
 Saxon mode of naming districts from their rela- 
 tive positions, as Essex, Wessex, Sussex. But 
 the geography of the metrical romances sets all 
 system at defiance ; and in some of these, as Cla- 
 riodus and Meliades, Estmureland undoubtedly 
 signifies the land of the Esterlings, or the Fle- 
 mish provinces at which vessels arrived in three 
 days from England, and to which they are re- 
 presented as exporting wool. — "Vide Notes on the 
 Tale of Kempion. On this subject (continues 
 Sir Walter) I have, since publication of the first 
 edition, been favoured with the following re- 
 marks by Mr Eitson, in opposition to the opinion 
 above expressed : — ' Estmureland and West- 
 I mureland have no sort of relation to Northum- 
 j berland and Westmoreland. The former was 
 j never called Eastmoreland, nor were there ever 
 | any kings of Westmoreland ; unless we admit 
 the authority of an old rhyme, cited by Usher; — 
 
 " ' There is, likewise, a " king Estmere, of 
 Spain," in one of Percy's ballads. 
 
 " ' In the old metrical romance of Kyng Horn, 
 or Horn Child, we find both Westnesse and Est- 
 I nesse; and it is somewhat singular, that two 
 I places, so called, actually exist in Yorkshire at 
 ! this day. But ness, in that quarter, is the name 
 ' given to an inlet from a river. There is, how- 
 ever, great confusion in this poem, as Horn is 
 1 called king sometimes of one country, and some- 
 times of the other. In the French original, 
 j Westir is said to have been the old name of 
 i Hirland, or Ireland ; which, occasionally at least, 
 is called Westnesse, in the translation, in which 
 1 1 Britain is named Sudene ; but here, again, it is 
 . inconsistent and confused. 
 
 " * It is, at any rate, highly probable, that the 
 0° story, cited in the Complaynt of Scotland, was a 
 

 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 47 
 
 
 romance of King Horn, whether prose or verse ; 4ft Then up and raise him, King Honour, 
 
 
 
 and consequently, that Estmureland and West- 
 
 Says, " What means a' this din ? 
 
 
 
 mureland should there mean England and Ire- 
 
 Or what's the matter, Fause Foodrage, 
 
 
 
 land ; though it is possible that no other instance 
 
 Or wha has loot you in ?" 
 
 
 
 can be found of these two names occurring with 
 
 
 
 
 the same sense."] 
 
 " ye my errand weel sail learn, 
 Before that I depart." 
 
 
 
 King Easter has courted her for her lands, 
 
 Then drew a knife, baith lang and sharp, 
 
 
 
 King Wester for her fee ; 
 
 And pierced him to the heart. 
 
 
 
 King Honour for her comely face, 
 
 
 
 
 And for her fair bodie. 
 
 Then up and got the queen hersel', 
 And fell low down on her knee : 
 
 
 
 They hadnot been four months married, 
 
 " spare my life, now, Fause Foodrage ! 
 
 
 
 As I have heard them tell, 
 
 For I never injured thee. 
 
 
 
 Until the nobles of the land 
 
 
 
 
 Against them did rebel. 
 
 " spare my life, now, Fause Foodrage! 
 Until I lighter be ! 
 
 
 
 And they cast kevils* them amang, 
 
 And see gin it be lad or lass, 
 
 
 
 And kevils them between; 
 
 King Honour has left wi' me." 
 
 
 
 And they cast kevils them amang, 
 
 
 
 
 "Wha suld gae kill the king. 
 
 " gin it be a lass," he says, 
 " Weel nursed it sail be ; 
 
 
 
 some said yea, and some said nay, 
 
 But gin it be a lad bairn, 
 
 
 
 Their words did not agree ; 
 
 He sail be hanged hie. 
 
 
 
 Till up and got him Fause Foodrage 
 
 
 
 
 And swore it suld be he. 
 
 " I winna spare for his tender age, 
 Nor yet for his hie hie kin ; 
 
 
 
 When bells were rung, and mass was sung, 
 
 But soon as e'er he born is, 
 
 
 
 And a' men bound to bed, 
 
 He shall mount the gallows pin." 
 
 
 
 King Honour and his gay ladye 
 
 
 
 
 In a hie chamber were laid. 
 
 four-and-twenty valiant knights 
 Were set the queen to guard ! 
 
 
 
 Then up and rase him, Fause Foodrage, 
 
 And four stood aye at her bouir door, 
 
 
 
 When a' were fast asleep, 
 
 To keep both watch and ward. 
 
 
 
 And slew the porter in his lodge, 
 
 
 
 
 That watch and ward did keep. 
 
 But when the time drew near an end, 
 That she suld lighter be, 
 
 
 
 four-and-twenty silver keys 
 
 She cast about to find a wile, 
 
 
 
 Hang hie upon a pin; 
 
 To set her body free. 
 
 
 
 And aye, as ae door he did unlock, 
 
 
 
 
 He has fastened it him behind. 
 
 she has birled these merry young men 
 
 With the ale but and the wine, 
 Until they were as deadly drunk 
 
 
 
 
 * Kevils.— Lots. Both words originally meant 
 
 As any wild wood swine. 
 
 
 
 only a portion, or share of any thing.— Leges 
 
 
 
 
 Burgorum, cap. 59, de lot, cut, or kavil. Statuta 
 
 " narrow, narrow, is this window, 
 
 
 
 Gildae, cap. 20. Nullus emat lanam, &c. nisi 
 
 And big, big, am I grown !" 
 
 
 
 fuerit confrater Gildse, &c. Neque lot neque 
 
 Yet through the might of Our Ladye, 
 
 
 
 cavil habeat cum aliquo confratre nostro. In 
 
 Out at it she has gone. 
 
 
 
 both these laws, lot and cavil signify a share in 
 
 
 
 
 trade.— Scott.— Motherwell says, that in an in- 
 
 She wandered up, she wandered down, 
 
 
 
 ventory belonging to an ancestor of his, dated 
 
 She wandered out and in ; 
 
 
 
 1692, the word occurs as a verb— to cavell— to cast 
 
 J And, at last, into the very swine's stythe, 
 
 
 
 lots ^ 
 
 f The queen brought forth a son. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
48 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 Then they cast kevils them amang, ', 
 
 Which suld gae seek the queen ; 
 
 And the kevil fell upon "Wise William, 
 And he sent his wife for him. 
 
 O when she saw Wise William's wife, 
 
 The queen fell on her knee ; 
 " Win up, win up, madam !" she says: 
 
 " What needs this courtesie ?" 
 
 " O out o' this I winna rise, 
 
 Till a boon ye grant to me ; 
 To change your lass for this lad bairn, 
 
 King Honour left me wi*. 
 
 " And ye maun learn my gay goss hawk 
 
 Right weel to breast a steed ; 
 And I sail learn your turtle dow 
 
 As weel to write and read. 
 
 " And ye maun learn my gay gcss hawk 
 To wield baith bow and brand; 
 
 And I sail learn your turtle dow 
 To lay gowd wi' her hand. 
 
 " At kirk and market when we meet, 
 
 We'll dare make nae avowe, 
 But — ' Dame, how does my gay goss hawk ?'* 
 
 * Madam, how does my dow ?' " 
 
 * This metaphorical language was customary 
 among the northern nations. In 925, king Ad- 
 elstein sent an embassy to Harold Harfagar, 
 king of Norway, the chief of which presented 
 that prince with an elegant sword, ornamented 
 with precious stones. As it was presented by 
 the point, the Norwegian chief, in receiving it, 
 unwarily laid hold of the hilt. The English 
 ambassador declared, in the name of his master, 
 that he accepted the act as a deed of homage ; 
 for touching the hilt of a warrior's sword was re- 
 garded as an acknowledgment of subjection. 
 The Norwegian prince, resolving to circumvent 
 his rival by a similar artifice, suppressed his re- 
 sentment, and sent, next summer, an embassy 
 to Adelstein, the chief of which presented Haco, 
 the eon of Harold, to the English prince ; and, 
 placing him on his knees, made the following 
 declaration: — " Haraldus, Normannorum rex, 
 amice te salutat; albamque hanc avem bene 
 institutam mittit,utque melius deinceps erudias, 
 postulat." The king received young Haco on 
 his knees; which the Norwegian ambassador 
 immediately accepted, in the name of his mas- 
 
 When days were gane, and years came on, 
 Wise William he thought lang; 
 
 And he has ta'en king Honour's son 
 A-hunting for to gang. 
 
 It sae fell out at this hunting, 
 
 Upon a simmer's day, 
 That they came by a fair castell, 
 
 Stood on a sunny brae. 
 
 " O dinna ye see that bonnie castell, 
 Wi' halls and towers sae fair t 
 
 Gin ilka man had back his ain, 
 Of it you suld be heir." 
 
 " How I suld be heir of that castell, 
 
 In sooth I canna see ; 
 For it belangs to Fause Foodrage, 
 
 And he is na kin to me." 
 
 " O gin ye suld kill him, Fause Foodrage, 
 You would do but what is right; 
 
 For I wot he kill'd your father dear, 
 Or ever ye saw the light. 
 
 " And gin ye suld kill him, Fause Foodrage 
 There is no man durst you blame j 
 
 For he keeps your mother a prisoner, 
 And she daurna take ye hame." 
 
 The boy stared wild like a gray goss hawk, 
 Says — " What may a' this mean ?" 
 
 " My boy, ye are king Honour's son, 
 And your mother's our lawful queen." 
 
 " gin I be king Honour's son, 
 
 By Our Ladye I swear, 
 This night I will that traitor slay, 
 
 And relieve my mother dear!" 
 
 He has set his bent bow to his breast, 
 
 And leaped the castell wa' ; 
 And soon he has seized on Fause Foodrage, 
 
 Wha loud for help 'gan ca\ 
 
 " O haud your tongue, now, Fause Foodrage, 
 
 Frae me ye shanna flee." 
 Syne pierc'd him thro' the fause fause heart, 
 
 And set his mother free. 
 
 ter, as a declaration of inferiority ; according to 
 the proverb, " Is minor semper habetur, qui al- 
 terius filium educat."— Pontoppidani Vestigia 
 Danor. vol. II. p. 67.— Scott. 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 49 
 
 And he has rewarded "Wise William 
 Wi' the best half of his land; 
 
 And sae has he the turtle dow, 
 Wi' the truth o' his right hand. 
 
 [This is said to be a complete set of the old 
 ballad of " Lizie Lindsay." It is taken from 
 Buchan's Ballads of the North, and, like others 
 in the same collection, abounds in north-country 
 provincialisms, especially in the use of the/ for 
 wh, as fa for wha,faer for where; also sheen for 
 shoon, teener for sooner, feel for fool, &c. King- 
 caussie, mentioned in the ballad, is on the south 
 bank of the Dee, and at one time belonged to the 
 family of Drum. In Jamieson's Popular Bal- 
 lads, an imperfect version of Lizie Lindsay is 
 given, beginning, 
 
 "Will ye go to the Highlands, Lizie Lindsay, 
 "Will ye go to the Highlands wi' me? 
 
 "Will ye go to the Highlands, Lizie Lindsay, 
 And dine on fresh cruds and green whey? 
 
 But we need not quote it, as it is mostly incor- 
 porated in Buchan's version. Burns sent the 
 fine old air of Lizie Lindsay to Johnson's Mu- 
 seum, and intended to have furnished words for 
 it, but never went beyond the opening verse. A 
 modern song, however, has been constructed on 
 the subject, including that verse and three 
 others. See Book of Scottish Song, p. 29. In 
 Chambers' collection, the ballads of Lizie Lind- 
 say and Lizie Baillie are incorporated into one, 
 but we think without sufficient authority.] 
 
 Ik Edinburgh lived a lady, 
 
 "Was ca'd Lizie Lindsay by name ; 
 
 "Was courted by mony fine suitors, 
 And mony rich persons of fame. 
 
 Though lords o' renown had her courted, 
 Yet none her favour could gain. 
 
 Then spake the young laird o' Kingcaussie, 
 And a bonnie young boy was he; 
 
 " Then let. me a year to the city, 
 I'll come, and that lady wi' me." 
 
 Then spake the auld laird o* Kingcaussie, 
 
 A canty auld mannie was he; 
 " "What think ye by our little Donald, 
 
 Sae proudly and crousely cracks he ? 
 
 But he's win a year to the city, 
 
 If that I be a living man ; 
 And what he can mak' o' this lady, 
 
 "We shall let him do as he can." 
 
 He's stript aff his fine costly robes, 
 
 And put on the single liverie; 
 "With no equipage nor attendance, 
 
 To Edinburgh city went he. 
 
 JNow there was a ball in the city, 
 
 A ball o' great mirth and great fame • 
 
 And fa danced wi' Donald that day, 
 But bonnie Lizie Lindsay on the green. 
 
 " Will ye gang to the Hielands, bonnie Lizie ? 
 
 "Will ye gang to the Hielands wi' me? 
 "Will ye leave the south country ladies, 
 
 And gang to the Hielands wi' me ?" 
 
 The lady she turned about, 
 
 And answered him courteouslie ; 
 
 " I'd like to ken faer I am gaun first, 
 An fa I am gaun to gang wi'." 
 
 " O, Lizie, ae favour I'll ask you, 
 
 This favour I pray not deny; 
 Te'll tell me your place o' abode, 
 
 And your nearest o' kindred do stay.' 
 
 " Te'll call at the Canogate port, 
 
 At the Canogate port call ye ; 
 I'll gi'e ye a bottle o' wine, 
 
 And I'll bear you my companie." 
 
 Syne he called at the Canogate port, 
 At the Canogate port called he ; 
 
 She ga'e him a bottle o' wine, 
 And she ga'e him her companie. 
 
 " "Will ye gang to the Hielands, bonn'e Lizie? 
 
 "Will ye gang to the Hielands wi' me ? 
 Will ye leave the south country ladies, 
 
 And gang to the Hielands wi' me?" 
 
 Then out spake Lizie's auld mither, 
 
 For a very auld lady was she ; 
 " If ye cast ony creed on my doehter, 
 
 High hanged I'll cause you to be." 
 
 " keep hame your doehter, auld woman, 
 
 And latna her gang wi* me; 
 I can cast nae mair creed on your doehter 
 
 Nae mair than she can on me." 
 
50 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 Now, young man, ae question I'll ask you, vft "When they cam 'near the end o' their journey, 
 
 Sin' ye mean to honour us sae ; 
 Te'll tell me how braid your lands lie, 
 Your name, and faer ye ha'e to gae ?" 
 
 " My father he is an auld soutter, 
 
 My mither she is an auld dey ; 
 And I'm but a puir broken trooper, 
 
 My kindred I winna deny. 
 
 " Tet I'm nae a rnan o' great honour, 
 Nor am 1 a man o' great fame ; 
 
 My name it is Donald M'Donald, 
 I'll tell it, and winna think shame. 
 
 " "Will ye gang to the Hielands, bonnie Lizie? 
 
 Will ye gang to the Hielands wi' me? 
 Will you leave the south country ladies, 
 
 And gang to the Hielands wi' me?" 
 
 " 0, Donald, I'll gi'e you ten guineas, 
 If you would but stay in my room ; 
 
 Until that 1 draw your fair picture, 
 To look on it fan 1 think lang." 
 
 " No ; I carena mair for your guineas, 
 Nae mair than ye care for mine; 
 
 But if that ye love my ain person, 
 Gae wi' me, maid, if ye incline." 
 
 Then out spake Lizie's bower woman, 
 And a bonnie young lassie was she; 
 
 " Though I was born heir to a crown, 
 Young Donald, 1 would gang him wi'." 
 
 Up raise then the bonnie young lady, 
 And drew till her stockings and sheen; 
 
 And pack'd up her claise in fine bundles, 
 And awa' wi' young Donald she's gane. 
 
 The roads they were rocky and knabby, 
 The mountains were baith straitand stay; 
 
 When Lizie grew wearied wi' travel, 
 For she'd travell'd a very lang way. 
 
 " O turn again, bonnie Lizie Lindsay, 
 
 turn again," said he; 
 " We're but ae day's journey frae town, 
 
 O turn, and 111 turn wi' thee." 
 
 Out speaks the bonnie young lady, 
 Till the saut tear blinded her e'e; 
 
 " Although I'd return to the city, 
 
 There's nae person would care for me." 
 
 To the house o' their father's milk dey • 
 He said, " Stay still there, Lizie Lindsay, 
 Till I tell my mither o' thee." 
 
 When he came into the shielen, 
 
 She hailed him courteouslie; 
 Said, " Ye're welcome hame, sir Donald, 
 
 There's been mony ane calling for thee." 
 
 " O, ca' me nae mair, Sir Donald, 
 But Donald M'Donald, your son; 
 
 We'll carry the joke a bit farther, 
 
 There's a bonnie young lady to come." 
 
 When Lizie came into the shielen, 
 She look'd as if she'd been a feel ; 
 
 She sawna a seat to sit down on, 
 But only some sunks o' green feall. 
 
 " Now make us a supper, dear mither, 
 The best o' your curds and green whey; 
 
 And make us a bed o' green rashes, 
 And cover't wi' huddins sae gray." 
 
 But Lizie being wearied wi' travel, 
 
 She lay till't was up i' the day. 
 " Ye might ha'e been up an hour seener, 
 
 To milk baith the ewes and the kye." 
 
 Out then spake the bonnie young lady, 
 Whan the saut tear drapt frae her e'e ; 
 
 " I wish that I had bidden at hame, 
 I can neither milk ewes nor kye. 
 
 " I wish that I had bidden at hame, 
 The Hielands I never had seen; 
 
 Although I love Donald M'Donald, 
 The laddie wi' blythe blinking een." 
 
 " Win up, win up, bonnie Lizie, 
 
 And dress in the silks sae gay; 
 I'll show you the yatts o' Kingcaussie, 
 
 Whare I've play'd me mony a day." 
 
 Up raise the bonnie young lady, 
 
 And drest in the silks sae fine; 
 And into young Donald's arms, 
 
 Awa' to Kingcaussie she's gane. 
 
 Forth came the auld laird o' Kingcaussie, 
 
 And hailed her courteouslie; 
 Says, "Ye're welcome, bonnie Lizie Lindsay, 
 
 Ye're welcome hame to me. 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 51 
 
 " Though lords o' renown ha'e you courted, 
 Young Donald your favour has won ; 
 
 Ye'se get a' the lands o' Kingcaussie, 
 And Donald M'Donald, my son." 
 
 LIZZIE LINDSAY". 
 
 [This version of Lizzie Lindsay is given from 
 the recitation of a Lady in Glasgow, and is a 
 faithful transcript of the ballad as it used to be 
 sung in the West of Scotland. In several points, 
 we consider it superior to the North country 
 version quoted above.] 
 
 There was a braw ball in Edinbungh, 
 And mony braw ladies were there, 
 
 But nae ane at a' the assembly 
 Could wi' Lizzie Lindsay compare. 
 
 In cam' the young laird o' Kincassie, 
 An' a bonnie young laddie was he — 
 
 " Will ye lea' yere ain kintra, Lizzie, 
 An' gang to the Hielands wi' me?" 
 
 She turned her roun' on her heel, 
 An' a very loud laughter gaed she — 
 
 " I wad like to ken whar 1 was ganging, 
 And wha I was gaun to gang wi'." 
 
 " My name is young Donald M'Donald, 
 
 My name I will never deny ; 
 My father he is an auld shepherd, 
 
 Sae weel as he can herd the kye ; 
 
 " My father he is an auld shepherd, 
 My mother she is an auld dame ; 
 
 If ye'll gang to the Hielands, bonnie Lizzie, 
 Ye's neither want curds nor cream." 
 
 " If ye'll call at the Canongate port, 
 At the Canongate port call on me, 
 
 I'll give you a bottle o' sherry, 
 And bear you companie." 
 
 He ca'd at the Canongate port, 
 At the Canongate port called he; 
 
 She drank wi' him a bottle o' sherry, 
 And bore him guid companie. 
 
 " Will ye go to the Hielands, bonnie Lizzie, 
 Will ye go to the Hielands wi' me ? 
 
 If ye'll go to the Hielands, bonnie Lizzie, 
 Ye shall not want curds nor green whey." 
 
 In there cam' her auld mither, 
 
 A jolly auld lady was she — 
 " I wad like to ken wnar she was gar.ging, 
 
 And wha she was gaun to gang wi' '* 
 
 " My name is young Donald M'Donald, 
 
 My name I will never deny, 
 My father he is an auld shepherd, 
 
 Sae weel as he can herd the kye. 
 
 " O but I would give you ten guineas 
 To have her one hour in a room, 
 
 To get her fair body a picture 
 To keep me from thinking long." 
 
 "01 value not your ten guineas, 
 
 As little as you value mine ; 
 But if that you covet my daughter, 
 
 Take her with you if you do incline." 
 
 " Pack up my silks and my satins, 
 And pack up my hose and my shoon, 
 
 And likewise my clothes in small bundles, 
 And away wi' young Donald I'll gang." 
 
 They pack'd up her silks and her satins, 
 They pack'd up her hose and her shoon, 
 
 And likewise her clothes in small bundles, 
 And away with young Donald she's gane 
 
 When that they cam' to the Hielands, 
 The braes they were baith lang and stey, 
 
 Bonnie Lizzie was wearied wi' ganging — 
 She had travell'd a lang summer day. 
 
 " O are we near hame, Sir Donald, 
 O are we near hame ? 1 pray." 
 
 " We're no near hame, bonnie Lizzie, 
 Nor yet the half o' the way." 
 
 They cam' to a homely poor cottage, 
 An auld man was standing by ; 
 
 " Ye're welcome hame, Sir Donald, 
 Ye've been sae lang away." 
 
 " call me no more Sir Donald, 
 
 But call me young Donald your son ; 
 For I have a bonnie young lady 
 : for to come in." 
 
 " Come in, come in, bonnie Lizzie, 
 Come in, come in," said he, 
 
 " Although that our cottage be little 
 Perhaps the better we'll 'gree." 
 
52 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 " O make us a supper, dear mother, 
 And make it of curds an' green whey ; 
 
 And make us a bed o' green rushes, 
 And cover it o'er wi' green hay. 
 
 " Rise up, rise up, bonnie Lizzie, 
 Why lie ye so long in the day; 
 
 Ye might ha'e been helping my mother 
 To make the curds and green whey." 
 
 " O haud your tongue, Sir Donald, 
 
 haud your tongue I pray ; 
 
 I wish I nad ne'er left my mother, 
 
 1 can neither make curds nor whey." 
 
 " Rise up, rise up, bonnie Lizzie, 
 And pjt on your satins so fine ; 
 
 For we maun be at Kineassie 
 
 Before that the clock strikes nine." 
 
 But when they came to Kineassie 
 The porter was standing by ; — 
 
 " Ye're welcome home, Sir Donald, 
 Ye've been so long away." 
 
 It's down then came his auld mither, 
 With all the keys in her hand, 
 
 Say'ng, " Take you these, bonnie Lizzie, 
 All under them 's ai your command." 
 
 ih McIaiaiD. 
 
 [This striking fragment is from Motherwell's 
 Collection, where it is supposed to be printed for 
 the first time. — " It was communicated to us," 
 6ays Mr Motherwell, " by an ingenious friend, 
 who remembered having heard it sung in his 
 youth. A good many verses at the beginning, 
 some about the middle, and one or two at the 
 end, seem to be wanting. More sanguine anti- 
 quaries than we are, might, from the similarity 
 of names, imagine that he had in this ballad dis- 
 covered the original romance whence Shakspeare 
 had given this line — 
 
 'Child Kovvlaud 1 
 
 the c 
 
 " The story is of a very gloomy and supersti- 
 tious texture. A yc ung lady, on the eve of her 
 marriage, invited her lover to a banquet, where 
 she murders him in revenge for some real or 
 fancied neglect. Alarmed for her own safety, 
 
 she betakes herself to flight ; and, in the course 
 of her journey, she sees a stranger knight riding 
 slowly before her, whom she at first seeks to 
 shun, by pursuing an opposite direction ; but, on 
 finding that wheresoever she turned, he still 
 appeared between her and the moonlight, she 
 resolves to overtake him. This, however, she 
 finds in vain, till of his own accord, he stays for 
 her at the brink of a broad river. They agree to 
 cross it; and, when in the mid stream, she im- 
 plores his help to save her from drowning — to 
 her horror she finds her fellow-traveller to be no 
 other than the gaunt apparition of her dead 
 lover."] 
 
 Whan he cam' to his ain luve's bouir 
 
 He tirl'd at the pin, 
 And sae ready was his fair fause luve 
 
 To rise and let him in. 
 
 " O welcome, welcome, Sir Roland," she says, 
 " Thiice welcome thou art to me, 
 
 For this night thou wilt feast in my secret bouir 
 And to-morrow we'll wedded be." 
 
 " This night is hallow-eve," he said, 
 " And to-morrow is hallow-day, 
 
 And I dreamed a drearie dream yestreen. 
 That has made my heart fu' wae. 
 
 " I dreamed a drearie dream yestreen, 
 And 1 wish it may cum to gude: 
 
 I dreamed that ye slew my best grew hound, 
 And gied me his lappered blude." 
 
 " Unbuckle your belt. Sir Roland," she said, 
 
 " And set you safely down." 
 " your chamber is very dark, fair maid, 
 
 And the night is wond'rous lown." 
 
 " Yes dark, dark is my secret bouir, 
 And lown the midnight may be, 
 
 For there is none waking in a' this tower, 
 But thou, my true love, and me." 
 
 She has mounted on her true love'3 steed, 
 
 By the ae light o' the moon ; 
 She has whipped him and spurred him, 
 
 And roundly she rade frae the toun. 
 
 She hadna ridden a mile o* gate, 
 
 Never a mile but ane, 
 When she was aware of a tall young man, 
 
 Slow riding o'er the plain. 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 53 
 
 She turned her to the right ahout, i 
 
 Then to the left turn'd she, 
 But aye 'tween her and the wan moonlight, 
 
 That tall knight did she see. 
 
 > " If I would help thee now," he said, 
 " It were a deadly sin, 
 For I've sworn neir to trust a fair may's word, 
 Till the water weets her chin." 
 
 And he was riding burd alane, 
 
 On a horse as black as jet, 
 But though she followed him fast and fell, 
 
 No nearer could she get. 
 
 " the water weets my waist," she said, 
 
 " Sae does it weet my chin, 
 And my aching heart rins round about. 
 
 The burn mak's sic a din. 
 
 " O stop ! stop ! young man," she said, 
 
 " For I in dule am dight; 
 stop, and win a fair lady's luve, 
 
 If you be a leal true knight." 
 
 " The water is waxing deeper still, _ 
 Sae does it wax mair wide, 
 
 And aye the farther that we ride on, 
 Farther off is the other side. 
 
 But nothing did the tall knight say, 
 And nothing did he blin; 
 
 Still slowly rode he on before, 
 And fast she rade behind. 
 
 " help me now, thou false false knight, 
 
 Have pity on my youth, 
 For now the water jawes owre my head, 
 
 And it gurgles in my mouth." 
 
 She whipped her steed, she spurred her steed, 
 
 Till his breast was all a foam, 
 But nearer unto that tall young knight, 
 
 By our ladye, she could not come. 
 
 The knight turned right and round about, 
 
 All in the middle stream, 
 And he stretched out his head to that lady, 
 
 But loudly she did scream. 
 
 " if you be a gay young knight, 
 
 As well I trow you be, 
 Pull tight your bridle reins, and stay 
 
 Till I come up to thee." 
 
 " O this is hallow morn," he said, 
 " And it is your bridal-day, 
 
 But sad would be that gay wedding, 
 If bridegroom and bride were away. 
 
 But nothing did that tall knight say, 
 And no whit did he blin, 
 
 Until he reached a broad river's side, 
 And there he drew his rein. 
 
 "And ride on, ride on, proud Margaret! 
 
 Till the water comes o'er your bree, 
 For the bride maun ride deep, and deeper yet, 
 
 Wha rides this ford wi' me. 
 
 " 0, is this water deep," he said, 
 
 " As it is wondrous dun .-> 
 Or is it sic as a saikless maid, 
 
 And a leal true knight may swim ?" 
 
 " Turn round, turn round, proud Margaret ! 
 
 Turn ye round and look on me, 
 Thou hast killed a true knight under trust, 
 
 And his ghost now links on with thee." 
 
 " The water it is deep," she said, 
 
 " As it is wond'rous dun ; 
 But it is sic as a saikless maid, 
 
 And a leal true knight may swim." 
 
 finnan WSL&Ux. 
 
 The knight spurred on his tall black steed, 
 
 The lady spurred on her brown; 
 And fast they rade into the fluod, 
 
 And fast they baith swam down. 
 
 " The water weets my tae," she said, 
 
 " The water weets rey knee, 
 And hold up my bridle leins, sir knight, 
 
 For the sake of our Ladye." ^ 
 
 [From Scott's Minstrelsy.—" The following 
 verses," says Sir Walter, " are the original 
 words of the tune of ' Allan Water,' by which 
 name the song is mentioned in Ramsay's Tea 
 Table Miscellany. The ballad is given from 
 tradition ; and it is said, that a bridge, over the 
 Annan, was built in consequence of the melan- 
 choly catastrophe which it narrates. Two verses 
 '■j are added in this edition, from another copy of 
 
54 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 the ballad, in which the conclusion proves for- ^ 
 tunate. By the Gatehope Slack, is perhaps i 
 meant the Gate Slack, a pass in Annandale. 
 The Annan, and the Frith of Solway, into 
 which it falls, are the frequent scenes of tragical 
 accidents. The editor trusts he will be pardoned 
 for inserting the following awfully impressive 
 account of such an event, contained in a letter 
 from Dr Currie, of Liverpool, by whose corre- 
 spondence, while in the course of preparing 
 these volumes for the press, he has been alike 
 honoured and instructed. After stating, that 
 he had some recollection of the ballad which 
 follows, the biographer of Burns proceeds thus : 
 ' I once in my early days heard (for it was night, 
 and I could not see) a traveller drowning; not 
 in the Annan itself, but in the Frith of Sulway, 
 close by the mouth of that river. The influx of 
 the tide had unhorsed him, in the night, as he 
 was passing the sands from Cumberland. The 
 west wind blew a tempest, and, according to the 
 common expression, brought in the water three 
 foot abreast. The traveller got upon a standing 
 net, a little way from the shore. There he 
 lashed himself to the post, shouting for half an 
 hour for assistance — till the tide rosa over his 
 head! In the darkness of night, and amid the 
 pauses of the hurricane, his voice, heard at in- 
 tervals, was exquisitely mournful. No one could 
 go to his assistance — no one knew where he was 
 — the sound seemed to proceed from the spirit of 
 the waters. But morning rose — the tide had 
 ebbed — and the pour traveller was found lashed 
 to the pole of the net, and bleaching in the 
 wind.'*"] 
 
 " Annan water's wading deep, 
 
 And my love Annie's wond'rous bonnie; 
 
 And I am laith she suld weet her feet, 
 Because I love her best of ony. 
 
 * An incident, somewhat similar to the above, but 
 even more awlully striking in its character, is record- 
 ed by S.r Thonia* Dick Lauder, in his Account of the 
 Great floods of August, 18*9, in the province of Aloray 
 and adjoining districts. Edinburgh, 1830, 8vo. The 
 sufferer in this instance was a toll-keeper, who, on the 
 evening in which lie met ins death, had been attend- 
 ing a merry-making, where he had danced, and dis- 
 played unwonted hilarity, in so much that the old 
 people thought him "ley." On his return home, he 
 was overtaken by the flood, and sought refuge in a 
 
 tinued to rise, and during the long night he was heard 
 repeatedly to whistle on his fingers, to apprize his 
 friends of his situation, but no assistance could be 
 rendered him. In the morning, tree and man were 
 gone. 
 
 " Gar saddle me the bonnie black; 
 
 Gar saddle sune, and make him ready s 
 Tor 1 will down the Gatehope-slack, 
 
 And all to see my bonnie ladye." 
 
 He has loupen on the bonnie black, 
 
 He stirr'd him wi' the spur right sairly , 
 
 But, or he wan the Gatehope-slack, 
 I think the steed was wae and weary. 
 
 He has loupen on the bonnie gray, 
 He rade the right gate and the ready; 
 
 I trow he would neither stint nor stay, 
 For he was seeking his bonnie ladye. 
 
 he has ridden ower field and fell, 
 Through niuir and moss, and mony a 
 
 mire; 
 His spurs o' steel were sair to bide, 
 And frae her fore-fee f. flew the fire. 
 
 " Now, bonnie gray, now play your part ! 
 
 Gin ye be the steed that wins my deary, 
 Wi' corn and hay ye'se be fed for aye, 
 
 And never spur sail make you wearie." 
 
 The gray was a mare, and a right good mare • 
 But when she wan the Annan water, 
 
 She couldna ha'e ridden a furlong mair, 
 Had a thousand merks been wadded f on 
 her. 
 
 " O boatman, boatman, put off your boat I 
 Put off jour boat for gowden moniei 
 
 1 cross the drumly stream the night, 
 
 Or never mair I see my honey." 
 
 "01 was sworn sae late yestreen, 
 And not by ae aith, but by many; 
 
 And lor a' the gowd in fair Scotland, 
 1 darna take ye through to Annie." 
 
 The side was stey, and the bottom deep, 
 Frae bank to brae the water pouring; 
 
 And the bonnie gray mare did sweat for fear, 
 For she heard the water kelpy roaring. 
 
 O he has pou'd aff his dapperpy$ coat, 
 The silver buttons glanced bonnie; 
 
 The waistcoat bursted aff his breast, 
 He was sae full of melancholy. 
 
 t Wadded — "Wagered. % Quaere — Cap-a-pee? 
 

 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 55 
 
 
 He has ta'en the ford at that stream tail ; 4& " Now Willie, if you luve me weel, 
 
 
 
 I wot he swam both strong and steady ; 
 
 As aft you've said and sworn,* 
 
 
 
 But the stream was broad, and his strength did 
 
 Oh wedd me in yon halie kirk 
 
 
 
 fail, 
 
 Before my babie's born !" 
 
 
 
 And he never saw his bonnie ladye. 
 
 " Now Margarett, if you luve me weel, 
 
 
 
 " wae betide the frush saugh wand ! 
 
 Urge no such thing to be, 
 
 
 
 And wae betide the hush of briar — 
 
 Till I returne from my father's lande, 
 
 
 
 It brake into my true love's hand, 
 
 That's farr beyond the sea." 
 
 
 
 "When his strength did fail, and his limbs 
 
 
 
 
 did tire. 
 
 With flowing tide, and shipp of pride, 
 That false knicht sail'd away, 
 
 
 
 " And wae betide ye, Annan Water, 
 
 And many a tear his true love shedd, 
 
 
 
 This night that ye are a drumlie river! 
 
 I wott, that drearie day. 
 
 
 
 For over thee I'll build a bridge, 
 
 
 
 
 That ye never more true love may sever." 
 
 And many a langsome look she cast 
 Atween the sea and the air, 
 
 
 
 
 
 And all to descry that stately shipp,— 
 
 
 
 Eai&ijp JEamgaret. 
 
 In lyfe she ne'er saw mair. 
 
 " I weipe by day, I weipe by nicht, 
 The salt tearis drown my e'e ; 
 
 
 
 [Wk find the present ballad in the Edinburgh 
 
 I weary for my ain sweet luve, 
 
 
 
 Magazine for December, 1817. It is thus intro- 
 
 But his face I cannot see." 
 
 
 
 duced — but of course we do not insist on the 
 
 
 
 
 reader to believe in the statement. — " The fol- 
 
 When six sad months were past and gone, 
 
 
 
 lowing fragments of a Scottish ballad were dis- 
 
 Her cheeke wext pale and leanne; 
 
 
 
 covered tied up with a number of law papers, 
 
 Her golden belt was all too tight, 
 
 
 
 principally dated 1590. Some lines, where it was 
 
 Too short her robes of greene. 
 
 
 
 deemed practicable, have been completed by 
 
 
 
 
 conjecture; the MS. is thus endorsed, in a male 
 
 To braid her hair she didna care, 
 
 
 
 hand, ' my umquhill deir sister, my lady Eu- 
 
 Nor sett her golden kell ; 
 
 
 
 fame's sang, quhilk she would sing unto her 
 
 And the tears that cam' frae her downcast 
 
 
 
 lute.*"] 
 
 Dry'd aye just where they fell. [eyne, 
 
 
 
 Lady Margarette was as faire a May, 
 
 She fand nae rest in the greene forest, 
 
 
 
 As won in the north countrie ; — 
 
 Nor yet in hall or bower, 
 
 
 
 Alace ! that she luvit. a pirate knicht, 
 
 But she was pleased wi' the lonelie sandes, 
 
 
 
 Wha wanderit o'er the sea ! 
 
 At the mirk and midnicht hour. 
 
 
 
 They couldna meit in the greene forest, 
 
 There to the wave she'd fondly rave, 
 
 
 
 Nor yet in hall or bovver, 
 
 And answere the sea-bird's cry;— > 
 
 
 
 But they'd walk on the lone sea sandes, 
 
 "I see the mast — he con.es at last;" 
 
 
 
 At the mirk and midnicht hour. 
 
 He never mair cam' nigh. 
 
 
 
 And they'd walk on the lonelie sandes, 
 
 " I weipe by day, I weipe by nicht, 
 
 
 
 By the wann licht o' the moon, 
 
 1 weipe false Willie's scorn ; 
 
 
 
 Till the sun raise red o'er yonder fell, 
 
 But ne'er shall I weipe the world's spite 
 
 
 
 And glittered the waves abune. 
 
 When my poor babie s born." 
 
 
 
 Beware, beware, ye maidinnis fair, 
 
 Now up and spak' her sister Anne 
 
 
 
 Of ugsome kelpie sprite ! — 
 
 In the chamber where she lay, — 
 
 
 
 But maist beware o' your ain sweet love, 
 
 " I trow I heard fair Margarett cry 
 
 
 
 Gin ye walk by the pale moon licht ! 1 
 
 B On the shore, lang lang or day. 
 
 
 
 
 
56 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 " The tide came on wi' the wild wind's moan , & 
 
 An hour I couldna sleip; 
 I trow I heard a lady groan, 
 
 But and a babie weip." 
 
 " Now hold your tongue, my sister Anne, 
 
 Think no such things to be, 
 'Twas but the seugh o' the yew-tree boughs, 
 
 In the wild blast mournfullie." 
 
 It was on a nicht, and a mirk mirk nicht, 
 That forth would Margarett fare; 
 
 And she's gane to yon lone kirk-yard; 
 Hir kin lay buried there. 
 
 Now she's gane to hir father's grave, 
 
 And touched the marble chest: 
 " Oh father deir, mak' room for mee, 
 
 I fain wald find some rest." 
 
 "Awa', awa', thou ill woman, 
 
 An ill death may'st thou dee, 
 "Were my coffine all the warld wyde, 
 
 There's nae room for such as thee." 
 
 Now she's gane to her mother's tomb, 
 
 And kiss'd the feet of stone; 
 " Oh, mother sweit, mak' room for mee, — 
 
 My dayes on earth are done." 
 
 " Away, away, deir Margarett, 
 
 Away, and lett mee sleip ; 
 Thou must not stretch thee at my syde, 
 
 And I downa hear thee weip." 
 
 Now she's gane to her brother's grave, 
 
 Ance deir to him was shee ; — 
 " Is there anie room in thy coffine, brother, 
 
 For I fain would rest with thee." 
 
 " There's no room in my coffine, sister, 
 
 Save for my trustie brand, 
 And that should strike thee to the heart, 
 
 Had I now a fleshlie hand." 
 
 This ladye turn'd her by the shore, 
 
 To reach her stately tower, 
 And she was aware of a babie wan 
 
 As the water-lilie flower. 
 
 He wore a garlande o' the green sea-weed, 
 And a robe o the white sea-foam, — 
 
 " Now faire befalle thee babie mine, 
 I bidd thee welcome home." 
 
 " When I was in life, Lady Margarett, 
 Such kindnesse you did net keip, 
 
 The cradle you gave was a rocking wave. 
 And the sea- gull to sing me asleip." 
 
 " Thou sleip'st nott worse beneath the bryne, 
 
 Than I on my silken bed ; 
 I cannot rest for those hands of thine 
 
 That freeze my brow to lead. 
 
 " Thou sleip'st not worse beneath the sands. 
 
 Than I amydd the down ; 
 I cannot rest for thy little feet 
 
 That patter my bed aroun'. 
 
 " My days of youth are days of ruth, 
 
 I've mickle dreed o' pine ; 
 And sorrow's cup whilk I've drunk up, 
 
 Is bitterer far than bryne. 
 
 "Soe I will take a plunge, babie, 
 
 I'll take a plunge with thee, 
 We'll soundlier sleep in others' arms, 
 
 For all the roaringe sea." 
 
 Now Willie was sailing his good shipp, 
 
 1 wot on a simmer's day, 
 When up there rose a cloud i' the south, 
 
 A dark and drumlie grey. 
 
 And howdinge saftlie o'er the waves, 
 Between that cloud and the sea, 
 
 Twa snow-white birds he thought cam' on, 
 And marvel'd what they might be ! 
 
 But when they nighd the statlis shipp, 
 
 Pale grew the pirate band, 
 For there stood a lady cladd in whyte, 
 
 Wi' a young boy in her hand. 
 
 "That shape is like my Margarett's, 
 
 As like as like may be ; 
 But when I look on that blue swollen face, 
 
 I canna think it she. 
 
 " That neck is as white as Margarett's, 
 
 As lang that yellow hair; 
 But how gat ye that bloodie wound, 
 
 Bound up with green sea-ware?" 
 
 " Leap down, leap down, thou false traitor, 
 Leap down, leap down, and see ; 
 
 If thou leaps't not down to me and my babe, 
 We'll climb the shipp to thee." 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 5f 
 
 ©kutlogie. 
 
 [This old ballad is given in the fourth volume of " The Scottish Minstrel, a selection from the vocal 
 melodies of Scotland, ancient and modern, arranged for the Piano-forte by R. A. Smith," a work 
 which extendel to six volumes in all, the last of which was published in 182-4. Another version of 
 Glenlogie is given in Mr Charles Kilpatrick Sharpe's Ballad Book, which the reader will find quoted 
 in the next page. It differs in diction considerably from the present, and is inferior in poetical 
 merit. We may mention that the title of the ballad is sometimes printed Glenogie, not Glenlogie, 
 but we adopt the latter reading.] 
 
 Threescore o' nobles rade up the king's ha' 
 But Bonnie Glenlogie's the flower o' them a' ; 
 Wi' his milk-white steed and his bonnie black e'e, 
 " Glenlogie, dear mither, Glenlogie for me." 
 
 " haud your tongue, dochter, ye'll get better than he;" 
 " O say nae sae, mither, for that canna be, 
 Though Drumlie is richer, and greater than he, 
 Yet if 1 maun tak' him, I'll certainly dee. 
 
 " Where will I get a bonnie boy, to win hose and shoon, 
 Will gae to Glenlogie, and cum shun again ?" 
 " O, here am 1, a bonnie boy, to win hose and shoon, 
 Will gae to Glenlogie, and cum shun again." 
 
 When he gaed to Glenlogie, 'twas wash and go dine ; 
 'Twas wash ye, my pretty boy, wash and go dine ; 
 " O 'twas ne'er my father's fashion, and it ne'er shall be mine, 
 To gar a lady's hasty errand wait till I dine. 
 
 " But there is, Glenlogie, a letter for thee;" 
 The first line that he read, a low smile ga'e he 
 The next line that he read, the tear blindit his e'e ; 
 But the last line that he read, he gart the table flee. 
 
 " Gar saddle the black horse, gae saddle the brown ; 
 
 Gar saddle the swiftest steed e'er rade frae a town ;" 
 
 But lang ere the horse was drawn, and brought to the green, 
 
 bonnie Glenlogie was twa mile his lane. 
 
 When he cam' to Glenfeldy's door, little mirth was there, 
 Bonnie Jean's mother was tearing her hair; 
 " Ye're welcome, Glenlogie, ye're welcome!" said she ; 
 " Ye're welcome, Glenlogie, your Jeanie to see." 
 
 Pale and wan was she, when Glenlogie gaed ben; 
 But red and rosy grew she whene'er he sat down ; 
 She turned ara' her head, but the smile was in her e'e; 
 " O binna feared, mither, I'll maybe no dee." 
 
58 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 GLENLOGIE. 
 
 TProm Mr Sharpe's Ballad Book, Edinburgh, 
 1824.] 
 
 Four-and-twenty nobles sit 
 
 In the king's ha'; 
 But bonnie Glenlogie 
 
 Is the flower amang them a'. 
 
 In cam' Lady Jean, 
 
 Skipping on the floor, 
 And she has chosen Glenlogie 
 
 Amang a' that was there. 
 
 She turned to his footman, 
 
 And thus she did say: 
 " Oh, what is his name, 
 
 And where does he stay ?" 
 
 " His name is Glenlogie, 
 
 When he is from home ; 
 He is of the gay Gordons, 
 
 His name it is John." 
 
 " Glenlogie, Glenlogie, 
 
 An you will prove kind, 
 My love is laid on you: 
 
 I'm telling my mind." 
 
 He turned about lichtly, 
 
 As the Gordons does a' ; 
 " I thank you, Lady Jean, 
 
 My love's promised awa'." 
 
 She called on her maidens, 
 
 Her bed for to make ; 
 Her rings and her jewels 
 
 All from her to take. 
 
 In cam' Jeanie's father, 
 
 A wae man was he ; 
 Says, " I'll wed you to Drumfendrich ; 
 
 He has mair gold than he." 
 
 Her father's own chaplin, 
 
 Being a man of great skill, 
 He wrote him a letter — 
 
 Indited it well. 
 
 The first line he looked at, 
 
 A licht lauch lauched he ; 
 But, ere he read through it, 
 
 The tears blinded his e'e. 
 
 Oh, pale and wan looked she 
 When Glenlogie cam' in; 
 
 But even rosy grew she 
 When Glenlogie sat doun. 
 
 " Turn round, Jeanie Melville, 
 Turn round to this side, 
 
 And I'll be the bridegroom, 
 And you'll be the bride." 
 
 Oh, it was a merry wedding, 
 And the portion doun told, 
 
 Of bonnie Jeanie Melville, 
 
 Who was scarce sixteen years i 
 
 [Sir Walter Scott. — Modern Ballad. — The 
 simple tradition, upon which the following 
 stanzas are founded, runs thus : While two 
 Highland hunters were passing the night in a 
 solitary bathy (a hut built fur the purpose of 
 hunting,) and making merry over their "venison 
 and whisky, one of them expressed a wish, t.iat 
 they had pretty lasses to complete their party. 
 The words were scarcely uttered, when two 
 beautiful young women, habited in green, en- 
 ter the hut, dancing and singing. One of the 
 hunters was seduced by the syren, who attached 
 herself particularly to him, to leave the hut : the 
 other remained, and, suspicious of the fair sedu- 
 cers, continued to play upon a trump, or Jew s 
 harp, some strain, consecrated to the Virgin 
 Mary. Day at length came, and the tempt ess 
 vanished. Searching in the forest, he found the 
 bones of his unfortunate friend, who had been 
 torn to pieces and devoured by the fiend into 
 whose toils he had fallen. The place was from 
 thence called the Glen of the Green Women. 
 
 Glenfinlas is a tract .of forest-ground, lying in 
 the Highlands of Perthshire, not far from Cal- 
 lender, in Menteith. It was formerly a rojal 
 forest, and now belongs to the earl of Moray. 
 This country, as well as the adjacent district of 
 Balquidder, was, in times of yore, chiefly inha- 
 bited by the Macgregors. To the west of the 
 fore3t of Glenfinlas lies Loch Katrine, and its 
 romantic avenue, called the Troshachs. Benledi, 
 Benmore, and Benvoirlich, are mountains in 
 ;the same district, and at no great distance from 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 59 
 
 Glenfinlas. The river Teith passes Callender and > 
 the castle of Doune, and joins the Forth near 
 Stirling. The pass of Lenny is immediately 
 above Callender, and is the principal access to 
 the Highlands, from that town. Glenartney is 
 a forest, near Benvoirlich. The whole forms a 
 sublime tract of Alpine scenery. 
 
 This ballad first appeared in the Tales of 
 "Wonder.— Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border.] 
 
 O hone a rie' ! O hone a rie' !* 
 The pride of Albin's line is o'er, 
 
 And fallen Glenartney's stateliest tree; 
 We ne'er shall see lord Ronald more I 
 
 O, sprung from great Macgillianore, 
 The chief that never feared a foe, 
 
 How matchless was thy broad claymore. 
 How deadly thine unerring bow ! 
 
 "Well can the Saxon widows tell,f 
 
 How, on the Teith's resounding shore, 
 
 The boldest Lowland warriors fell, 
 As down from Lenny's pass you bore. 
 
 But o'er his hills, on festal day, 
 
 How blazed lord Ronald's beltane-tree ;± 
 
 While youths and maids the light strathspey 
 So nimbly danced with Highland glee. 
 
 Cheer'd by the strength of Ronald's shell, 
 E'en age forgot his tresses hoar; 
 
 But now the loud lament we swell, 
 O ne'er to see lord Ronald more ! 
 
 From distant isles a chieftian came, 
 The joys of Ronald's halls to find, 
 
 And chase with him the dark-brown game, 
 That bounds o'er Albin's hills of wind. 
 
 * O hone a rie' signifies — " Alas for the prince, 
 or chief. — Scott. 
 
 f The term Sassenach, or Saxon, is applied by 
 the Highlanders to their low-country neigh- 
 bours. — Scott. 
 
 $ The fires lighted by the Highlanders on the 
 first of May, in compliance with a custom de- 
 rived from the Pagan times, are termed, The 
 Beltane-Tree. It is a festival celebrated with 
 various superstitious rites, both in the north of 
 Scotland and in Wales. — Scott. 
 
 'Twas Moy ; whom in Columba's isle 
 The seer's prophetic spirit found,§ 
 
 As, with a minstrel's fire the while, 
 
 He waked his harp's harmonious sound. 
 
 Full many a spell to him was known, 
 
 Which wandering spirits shrink to hear; 
 
 And many a lay of potent tone, 
 Was never meant for mortal ear. 
 
 For there, 'tis said, in mystic mood, 
 
 High converse with the dead they hold, 
 
 And oft espy the fated shroud, 
 
 That shall the future corpse enfold. 
 
 O so it fell, that on a day, 
 
 To rouse the red deer from their den, 
 The chiefs have ta'en their distant way, 
 
 And scour'd the deep Glenfinlas' glen. 
 
 No vassals wait their sports to aid, 
 
 To watch their safety, deck their board ; 
 
 Their simple dress, the Highland plaid, 
 Their trusty guard the Highland sword. 
 
 Three summer days, through brake and dell, 
 Their whistling shafts successful flew; 
 
 And still, when dewy evening fell, 
 The quarry to their hut they drew.\ 
 
 In grey Glenfinlas' deepest nook 
 
 The solitary cabin stood, 
 Fast by Moneira's sullen brook, 
 
 Which murmurs through that lonely wood. 
 
 Soft fell the night, the sky was calm, 
 
 When three successive days had flown; 
 
 And summer mist in dewy balm 
 
 Steep'd heathy bank, and mossy stone. 
 
 § I can only describe the second sight, by 
 adopting Dr Johnson's definition, who calls it 
 " An impression, either by the mind upon the 
 eye, or by the eye upon the mind, by w'hich 
 things distant and future are perceived and seen 
 as if they were present." To which 1 would only 
 add, that the spectral appearance, thus present- 
 ed, usually presages misfortune; that the faculty 
 is painful to those who suppose they posses^ it; and 
 that they usually acquire it, while themselves 
 under the pressure of melancholy. — Scott. — The 
 author himself, in his romantic legend of Mi nt- 
 rose, gives a beautiful illustration of this subject, 
 in the character of Allan M'Aulay. 
 
60 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 The moon, half-hid in silvery flakes, 
 Afar her dubious radiance shed, 
 
 Quivering on Katrine's distant lakes, 
 And resting on Benledi's head. 
 
 Now in their hut, in social guise, 
 Their sylvan fare the chiefs enjoy; 
 
 And pleasure laughs in Ronald's eyes, 
 As many a pledge he quaffs to Moy. 
 
 — " What lack we here to crown our bliss, 
 While thus the pulse of joy beats high .-> 
 
 What, but fair woman's yielding kiss, 
 Her panting breath and melting eye ? 
 
 " To chase the deer of yonder shades, 
 This morning left their father's pile 
 
 The fairest of our mountain maids, 
 The daughters of the proud Glengyle. 
 
 " Long have I sought sweet Mary's heart, 
 And dropp'd the tear and heav'd the sigh ; 
 
 Bet vain the lover's wily art, 
 Beneath a sister's watchful eye. 
 
 " But thou may'st teach that guardian fair, 
 While far with Mary I am flown, 
 
 Of other hearts to ease her care, 
 
 And find it hard to guard her own. 
 
 " Touch but thy harp, thou soon shalt see 
 
 The lovely Flora of Glengyle, 
 Unmindful of her charge and me, 
 
 Hang on thy notes, 'twixt tear and smile. 
 
 "Or if she chuse a melting tale, 
 
 All underneath the greenwood bough, 
 
 Will good St Oran's rule prevail,* 
 
 Stern huntsman of the rigid brow ?" — 
 
 * St Oran was a friend and follower of St Co- 
 lumba, and was burled in Icolmkill. His pre- 
 tensions to be a saint were rather dubious. Ac- 
 cording to the legend, he consented to be buried 
 alive, in order to propitiate certain demons of 
 the soil, who obstructed the attempts of Colum- 
 ba to build a chapel. Columba caused the body 
 of his friend to be dug up, after three days had 
 elapsed: when Oran, to the horror and scandal 
 of the assistants, declared, that there was neither 
 a God, a judgment, nor a future state ! He had 
 no time to make further discoveries, for Colum- 
 ba caused the earth once more to be shovelled 
 over him with the utmost dispatch. The chapel, W 
 
 — Since Enrick's fight, since Morna's death. 
 
 No more on me shall rapture rise, 
 Responsive to the panting breath, 
 
 Or yielding kiss, or melting eyes. 
 
 "E'en then, when o'er the heath of woe, 
 Where sunk my hopes of love and fame, 
 
 I bade my harp's wild wailing's flow, 
 On me the seer's sad spirit came. 
 
 " The last dread curse of angry heaven, 
 With ghastly sights and sounds of woe, 
 
 To dash each glimpse of joy was given — 
 The gift, the future ill to know. 
 
 " The bark thou saw'st, yon summer morn, 
 
 So gaily part from Oban's bay, 
 My eye beheld her dash'd and torn, 
 
 Far on the rocky Colonsay. 
 
 "Thy Fergus too — thy sister's son, 
 
 Thou saw'st, with pride, the gallant's power 
 As marching 'gainst the lord of Downe, 
 
 He left the skirts of huge Benmore. 
 
 " Thou only saw'st their tartans wave, 
 As down Benvoirlich's side they wound, 
 
 Heard'st thou the pibroch, answering brave 
 To many a target clanking round. 
 
 " I heard the groans, I mark'd the tears, 
 I saw the wound his bosom bore, 
 
 When on the serried Saxon spears 
 He pour'd his clan's resistless roar. 
 
 " And thou, who bid'st me think of bliss, 
 And bid'st my heart awake to glee, 
 
 And court, like thee, the wanton kiss — 
 That heart, O Ronald, bleeds for thee ! 
 
 " I see the death-damps chill thy brow ; 
 
 I hear thy Warning Spirit cry; [now.... 
 The corpse-lights dance— they're gone, and 
 
 No more is given to gifted eye !" 
 
 — "Alone enjoy thy dreary dreams, 
 
 Sad prophet of the evil hour! 
 Say, should we scorn joy's transient beams, 
 
 Because to-morrow's storm may lour? 
 
 however, and the cemetry, was called Reilig 
 Ouran ; and, in memory of his rigid celibacy, no 
 female was permitted to pay her devotions, or be 
 buried, in that place. This is the rule alluded 
 to in the poem. — Scott. 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 61 
 
 " Or false, or sooth, thy words of woe, 
 Clangillian's chieftain ne'er shall fear; 
 
 His blood shall hound at rapture's glow, 
 Though doom'd to stain the Saxon spear. 
 
 " E'en now to meet me in yon dell, 
 My Mary's huskins brush the dew." 
 
 He spoke, nor bade the chief farewell, 
 But call'd his dogs, and gay withdrew. 
 
 Within an hour return'd each hound ; 
 
 In rush'd the rouzers of the deer; 
 They howl'd in melancholy sound, 
 
 Then closely couch beside the seer. 
 
 No Ronald yet ; though midnight came, 
 And sad were Moy's prophetic dreams, 
 
 As, bending o'er the dying flame, 
 
 He fed the watch-fire's quivering gleams 
 
 Sudden the hounds erect their ears, 
 
 And sudden cease their moaning howl; 
 
 Close press'd to Moy, they mark their fears 
 By shivering limbs, and stifled growl. 
 
 ITntouch'd, the harp began to ring, 
 .As softly, slowly, ope" 4 , the door; 
 
 And shook responsive every string, 
 As light a footstep press'd the floor. 
 
 And by the watch-fire's glimmering light, 
 Close by the minstrel's side was seen 
 
 An huntress maid, in beauty bright, 
 All dropping wet her robes of green. 
 
 All dropping wet her garments seem ; 
 
 Chill'd was her cheek, her bosom bare, 
 As bending o'er the dying gleam, 
 
 She wrung the moisture from her hair 
 
 With maiden blush she softly said, 
 
 " O gentle huntsman, hast thou seen, 
 
 In deep Glenfinlas' moon-light glade, 
 A lovely maid in vest of green : 
 
 " With her a chief in Highland pride ; 
 
 His shoulders bear the hunter's bow, 
 The mountain dirk adorns his side, 
 
 Far on the wind his tartans flow ?" 
 
 "And who art thou, and who are they?" 
 All ghastly gazing, Moy replied : 
 
 "And why, beneath the moon's pale ray, 
 Dare ye thus roam Glenfinlas' side?" 
 
 " Where wild Loch Katrine pours her tide, 
 Blue, dark, and deep, round many an isle, 
 
 Our father's towers o'erhang her side, 
 The castle of the bold Glengyle. 
 
 " To chase the dun Glenfinlas' deer, 
 
 Our woodland course this morn we bore, 
 
 And haply met, while wandering here, 
 The son of great Macgillianore. 
 
 " O aid me, then, to seek the pair, 
 
 Whom, loitering in the woods, I lost; 
 
 Alone, I dare not venture there, 
 
 Where walks, they say, the shrieking ghost. 
 
 " Yes, many a shrieking ghost walks there ; 
 
 Then first, my own sad vow to keep, 
 Here will I pour my midnight prayer, 
 
 Which still must rise when mortals sleep." 
 
 " O first, for pity's gentle sake, 
 
 Guide a lone wanderer on her way! 
 
 For I must cross the haunted brake, 
 And reach my father's towers ere day." 
 
 " First, three times tell each Ave-bead, 
 
 And thrice a Pater-noster say; 
 Then kiss with me the holy reed; 
 
 So shall we safely wind our way." 
 
 " shame to knighthood, strange and foul ! 
 
 Go, doff the bonnet from thy brow, 
 And shroud thee in the monkish cowl, 
 
 Which best befits thy sullen vow. 
 
 " Not so, by high Dunlathmon's fire, 
 Thy heart was froze to love and joy, 
 
 When gaily rung thy raptur'd lyre, 
 To wanton Morna's melting eye." 
 
 Wild stared the minstrel's eyes of flame, 
 
 And high his sable locks arose, 
 And quick his colour went and came, 
 
 As fear and rage alternate rose. 
 
 " And thou ! when by the blazing oak 
 
 I lay, to her and love resign d, 
 Say, rode ye on the eddying smoke, 
 
 Or sailed ye on the midnight wind ! 
 
 " Not thine a race of mortal blood, 
 Nor old Glengjle's pretended line ; 
 
 Thy dame, the Lady of the Flood, 
 Thy sire, the Monarch of the Mine." 
 
62 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 He rautter'd thrice St Oran's rhyme, 
 
 And thrice St Fillan's powerful prayer;" 
 
 Then turn'd him to the eastern clime, 
 And sternly shook his coal-black hair. 
 
 * St Fillan has given his name to many chapels, 
 holy fountains, &c. in Scotland. He was, ac- 
 cording to Camerarius, an abbot of Pittenweem, 
 in Fife; from which situation he retired, and 
 died a hermit in the wilds of Glenurchy, A. D. 
 649. While engaged in transcribing the Scrip- 
 tures, his left hand was observed to send forth 
 such a splendour, as to afford light to that with 
 which he wrote; a miracle which saved many 
 candles to the convent, as St Fillan used to 
 spend whole nights in that exercise. The 9th of 
 January was dedicated to this saint, who gave 
 his name to Kilfillan, in Renfrew, and St Phil- | 
 lans, or Forgend, in Fife. Lesley, lib. 7., tells 
 us, that Robert the Bruce was possessed of Fil- 
 lan's miraculous and luminous arm, which he 
 inclosed in a silver shrine, and had it carried at 
 the head of his army. Previous to the battle of 
 Bannocktmrn, theking'schaplain,aman of little 
 faith, abstracted the relique, and deposited it in 
 some place of security, lest it should fall into the 
 hands of the English. But, lo ! while Robert 
 was addiessing his prayers to the empty casket, 
 it was observed to O] en and shut suddenly ; and, 
 on inspection, the saint was found to have him- 
 self depc sited his arm in the shrine, as an assur- 
 ance of victory. Such is the tale of Lesley. But 
 though Bruce little needed that the arm of St 
 Fillan shuuld assist his own, he dedicated to 
 him, in gratitude, a priory at Killin, upon Loch 
 Tay. 
 
 In the Scots Magazine for July 1802, there is a 
 copy of a very curious crown grant, dated 11th 
 July, 1487, by which James III. confirms to 
 Malice JJore, an inhabitant of Strathfillan, in 
 Perthshire, the peaceable exercise and enjoy- 
 ment of a relique of St Fillan, being apparently 
 the head of a pastoral staff called the Quegrich, 
 which he and his predecessors are said to have 
 possessed since the days of Robert Bruce. As the 
 Quegrich was used to cure diseases, this docu- 
 ment is, probably, the most ancient patent ever 
 granted for a quack medicine. The ingenious 
 correspondent, by whom it is furnished, further 
 observes, that additional particulars, concerning 
 St Fillan, are to be found in Ballenden's Boece, 
 Book 4, folio ccxiii and in Pennant's Tour in 
 Scotland, 1772, pp. 11, 15.— Scott. 
 
 V 
 
 And, bending o'er his harp, he flung 
 His wildest witch-notes on the wind; 
 
 And loud, and high, and strange, they rung 
 As many a magic change they find. 
 
 Tall wax'd the Spirit's altering form, 
 Till to the roof her stature grew ; 
 
 Then, mingling with the rising-storm, 
 With one wild yell, away she flew. 
 
 Rain beats, hail rattles, whirlwinds tear : 
 The slender hut in fragments flew; 
 
 But not a lock of Moy's loose hair 
 Was waved by wind, or wet by dew. 
 
 Wild mingling with the howling gale, 
 Loud bursts of ghastly laughter rise; 
 
 High o'er the minstrel's head they sail, 
 And die amid the northern skies. 
 
 The voice of thunder shook the wood, 
 As ceased the more than mortal yell; 
 
 And, spattering foul, a shower of blood 
 Upon the hissing firebrands fell. 
 
 Next, dropp'd from high a mangled arm ; 
 
 The fingers strain'd an half-drawn blade ■ 
 And last, the life-blood streaming warm, 
 
 Torn from the trunk, a gasping head. 
 
 Oft o'er that head, in battling field, 
 
 Stream'd the proud crest of high Benmore, 
 
 That arm the broad claymore could wield, 
 Which dyed the Teith with Saxon gore. 
 
 Woe to Moneira's sullen rills ! 
 
 Woe to Glenfinlas' dreary glen ! 
 There never son of Albin's hills 
 
 Shall draw the hunter's shaft agen. 
 
 E'en the tired pilgrim's burning feet 
 At noon shall shun that sheltering den, 
 
 Lest, journeying in their rage, he meet 
 The wayward Ladies of the Glen. 
 
 And we — behind the chieftain's shield, 
 No more shall we in safety dwell; 
 
 None leads the people to the field — 
 And we the loud lament must swell. 
 
 O hone a rie' ! O hone a rie' ! 
 
 The pride of Albin's line is o'er, 
 And fallen Glenartney's stateliest tree; 
 
 We ne'er shall see lord Ronald more ! 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 63 
 
 [This fragment is from Mr Kinloch's collec- 
 tion of Ancient Scottish Ballads, London, 1827. 
 From the pronunciation of some of the words, 
 it would seem to telong to the North.] 
 
 " O vvhake ha'e ye been, Peggy, 
 
 O whare ha'e ye been J — 
 I' the garden amang the gilly-flow'rs, 
 
 Atvveen twal hours and een." 
 
 " Ye've na been there your leen, Peggy, 
 
 Ye've na been there your leen ; 
 Your father saw you in Jamie's arms, 
 
 Atvveen twal hours and een." 
 
 " Tho' my father saw me in Jamie's arms, 
 
 He'll see me there again ; 
 For I will sleep in Jamie's arms, 
 
 When his grave's growin' green.' 
 
 " Your Jamie is a rogue, Peggy, 
 
 Your Jamie is a loun, 
 For trysting out our ae dochter, 
 
 And her sae very young." 
 
 " Lay no the wyte on Jamie, mither, 
 
 The blame a' lies on me ; — 
 For I will sleep in Jamie's arms, 
 
 When ycur een winna see." 
 
 Now she has to her ain bouer gane, 
 He was waiting there him leen ;— 
 
 " I'm blythe to see ye, Jamie, here, 
 For we maunna meet again." 
 
 She's tane the wine glass in her hand, 
 
 Pour'd out the wine sae clear ; 
 Says, " Here's your health and mine, Jamie, 
 
 And we maun meet na mair." 
 
 She has tane him in her arms twa, 
 
 And gi'en him kisses five ; 
 Says, " Here's your health and mine, Jamie, 
 
 1 wish weel mote ye thrive." 
 
 "Your father has a bonnie cock, 
 
 Divides the nicht and day ; 
 And at the middle watch o' the nicht. 
 
 In greenwud ye '11 meet me." ffi 
 
 &i Whan bells war rung, and mass was sung, 
 And a' men boun' for bed, 
 She's kilted up her green claithing, 
 And met Jamie in the wud. 
 
 When bells war rung, and mass was sung,- 
 
 About the hour o' twa, 
 It's up bespak her auld father, 
 
 Says, " Peggy is awa' ! 
 
 " Gae saddle to me the black, the black, 
 
 Gae saddle to me the grey;" 
 But ere they wan to the tap o' the hill. 
 
 The wedding was a' bye. 
 
 [This ballad was originally published in the 
 first edition of the Border Minstrelsy, under 
 the title of the Laird of Laminton. In subse- 
 quent editions it was given in a more perfect 
 state with the above title. " The residence of 
 the lady," says Sir Walter, "and the scene of 
 the affray at her bridal, is said, by old people, 
 to have been upon the banks of the Cadden, near 
 to where it joins the Tweed. — Others say the 
 skirmish was fought near Traquair, and Kathe- 
 rine Janfarie's dwelling was in the glen about 
 three miles above Traquair house."] 
 
 There was a may, and a weel far'd may, 
 
 Lived high up in yon glen ; 
 Her name was Katherine Janfarie, 
 
 She was courted by mony men. 
 
 Up then came lord Lauderdale, 
 
 Up frae the Lawland border ; 
 And he has come to court this may, 
 
 A' mounted in good order. 
 
 He told na her father, he told na her 
 mother, 
 
 And he told na ane o' her kin ; 
 But he whisper'd the bonnie lassie hersel', 
 
 And has her favour won. 
 
 But out then cam' lord Lochinvar, 
 
 Out frae the English border, 
 All for to court this bonnie may, 
 
 Weil mounted and in order 
 

 64 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 He told her father, he told her mother, { 
 
 ^ Some o* them were right willing men, 
 
 And a' the lave o' her kin ; 
 
 But they were na' willing a' ; 
 
 But he told na the bonnie may hersel', 
 
 And four-and-twenty Leader lads 
 
 Till on her wedding e'en. 
 
 Bid them mount and ride awa'. 
 
 She sent to the lord o' Lauderdale, 
 
 Then whingers flew frae gentles' sides, 
 
 Gin he wad come and see ; 
 
 A nd swords flew frae the shea's, 
 
 And he has sent word back again, 
 
 And red and rosy was the blood 
 
 Weel answered she suld be. 
 
 Ran down the lily braes. 
 
 And he has sent a messenger 
 
 The blood ran down by Caddon bank, 
 
 Eight quickly through the land, 
 
 And down by Caddon brae; 
 
 And raised mony an armed man 
 
 And, sighing, said the bonnie bride — 
 
 To be at his command. 
 
 " waes me for foul play !" 
 
 The bride looked out at a high window, 
 
 My Massing on your hep.rt, sweet thing ! 
 
 Beheld baith dale and down, 
 
 Wae to your wilfu" will ! 
 
 And she was aware of her first true love, 
 
 There's mony a gallant gentleman 
 
 With riders mony a one. 
 
 Whae's bluiie ye have garr'd to spill. 
 
 She scoffed him, and scorned him, 
 
 Now a' you lords of fair England, 
 
 Upon her wedding day; 
 
 And that dwell by the Knglish border, 
 
 And said—" It was the Fairy court 
 
 Come never here to seek a wife, 
 
 To see him in array ! 
 
 For fear of sic disorder. 
 
 " come ye here to fight, young lord, 
 
 They'll haik ye up, and settle ye bye, 
 
 Or come ye here to play ? 
 
 Till on your wedding day; 
 
 Or come ye here to drink good wine 
 
 Then gie ye frogs instead offish, 
 
 Upon the wedding day ?" 
 
 And play ye foul foul play. 
 
 " I come na here to fight/' he said, 
 
 
 " I come na here to play ; 
 
 
 
 I'll but lead a dance wi' the bonnie bride, 
 
 
 .And mount, and go my way." 
 
 
 
 CATHERINE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 It is a glass of the blood -red wine 
 
 
 Was filled up tbem between, 
 
 [This is a somewhat different version of 
 
 And aye she drank to Lauderdale, 
 
 Katherine Janfarie, from Motherwell's collec- 
 
 Wha her true love had been. 
 
 tion. Mr Motherwell says, " The present copy 
 
 
 was obtained from recitation, in the West of 
 
 He's ta'en her by the milk-white hand, 
 
 Scotland, and is now given as exhibiting the 
 
 And by the grass-green sleeve; 
 
 state in which this popular ballad is there pre- 
 served. The 10th stanza, 
 
 He's mounted her hie behind himsel', 
 
 At her kinsmen spear'd na leave. 
 
 
 
 " There were four-and-twenty belted knights, 
 
 " Now take your bride, lord Lochinvar ' 
 
 Sat at a table round," 
 
 Now take her if you may ■ 
 
 
 But, if you take your bride again, 
 
 seems to contain an allusion to the Knights of 
 
 We'll cal it but foul play." 
 
 the Round Table." In Mr P. Buchans Glean- 
 
 
 ings fr< m scarce Old Ballads, another but infe- 
 
 There were four and -twenty bonnie boys, 
 
 rior version of the same is given, which it is 
 
 A' clad in Johnstone grey; 
 
 unnecessary to quote. The highly spirited bal- 
 
 They said they would take the bride again, 
 
 lad of Lochinvar which occurs in Sir Walter 
 
 By the strung hand if they may. 
 
 % Scott's tale of Marmion, was founded in a slight 
 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 65 
 
 
 degree on the ballad of Katherine Janfarie or 
 
 i They r-se all to honour him, 
 
 
 
 Johnstone. We therefore give it in the next 
 
 For he was of high renown ; 
 
 
 
 page, that the reader may contrast the old and 
 
 They rose all for to welcome him. 
 
 
 
 the modern production.] 
 
 And bade him to sit down. 
 
 
 
 There was a lass as I heard say, 
 
 meikle was the good red wine, 
 
 
 
 Lived low di un in a glen ; 
 
 In silver cups did flow ; 
 
 
 
 Her name was Catherine Johnstone, 
 
 But aye she drank to Lamington, 
 
 
 
 "Weel known to many men. 
 
 For with him would she go. 
 
 
 
 Doan came the laird o" Lamington, 
 
 meikle was the good red wine, 
 
 
 
 Boun from the south countrie; 
 
 In silver cups gaed round ; 
 
 
 
 And he is for this bonnie lass, 
 
 At length they began to whisper words, 
 
 
 
 Her bridegroom for to be. 
 
 None could them understand. 
 
 
 
 He's ask'd her father and mother, 
 
 " came ye here for sport, young man, 
 
 
 
 The chief of a - her kin' ; 
 
 Or came ye here for play ? 
 
 
 
 And then he ask'd the bonnie lass, 
 
 Or came ye for our bonnie bride, 
 
 
 
 And did her favour win. 
 
 On this her wedding day . J " 
 
 
 
 Doun came an English gentleman, 
 
 " I came not here for sport," he said, 
 
 
 
 D> un from the English border; 
 
 " Neither did I for play ; 
 
 
 
 He is for this bonnie lass, 
 
 But for one word o' your bonnie bride, 
 
 
 
 To keep his tuuse in order. 
 
 I'll mount and go away." 
 
 
 
 He ask'd her father and mother, 
 
 They set her maids behind her, 
 
 
 
 As 1 do hear them say ; 
 
 To hear what they would say ; 
 
 
 
 But he never ask'd the lass hersel', 
 
 But the first question he ask'd at her, 
 
 
 
 Till on her wedding day. 
 
 "Was always answered nay; 
 The next question he ask'd at her, 
 
 
 
 But she has wrote a long letter, 
 
 Was, " Mount and come away ?" 
 
 
 
 And seal'd it with her hand; 
 
 
 
 
 And sent it to lord Lamington, 
 
 It's up the Couden bank, 
 
 
 
 To let him understand. 
 
 And doun the Couden brae ; 
 And aye she made the trumpet sound, 
 
 
 
 The first line o" the letter he read, 
 
 It's a weel won play. 
 
 
 
 He was baith glad and fain, 
 
 
 
 
 But or he read the letter o'er, 
 
 meikle was the blood was shed, 
 
 
 
 He was ba-th pale and wan. 
 
 Upon the Couden brae ; 
 And aye she made the trumpet sound, 
 
 
 
 Then he has sent a messenger, 
 
 Its a' fair play. 
 
 
 
 And out through all his land; 
 
 
 
 
 And fiur-and-twenty armed men, 
 
 Come a' ye English gentlemen, 
 
 
 
 "Were all at his command. 
 
 That is of England born ; 
 Come na doun to Scotland, 
 
 
 
 But he has left his rrerry men all; 
 
 For fear ye get the scorn. 
 
 
 
 Left them on the lee; 
 
 
 
 
 And he's awa' to the wedding house, 
 
 They'll feed ye up wi" flattering words. 
 
 
 
 To see what he could see. 
 
 And that's foul play; 
 And they'll dress you frogs instead of fish 
 
 
 
 But when he came to the wedding house, 
 
 Just on your wedding day. 
 
 
 
 -As 1 do understand; 
 
 
 
 
 There were four-and-twenty belted knight, 
 
 
 
 
 1 a table round. i 
 
 r "7" 
 
 
 
 
 
QQ SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 LOCHINVAE. 
 [Sir Walter Scott. — See the two previous ballads.] 
 
 O ! young Lochinvar has come out of the west, 
 
 Through all the wide border his steed was the best; 
 
 And, save his good broadsword he weapons had none, 
 
 He rode all unarm'd, and he rode all alone. 
 
 So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, 
 
 There never was knight like the young Lochinvar. 
 
 He staid not for brake, and he stopp'd not for stone, 
 
 He swam the Esk river where ford there was none ; 
 
 But, ere he alighted at Netherby gate, 
 
 The bride had consented, the gallant came late: 
 
 For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war, 
 
 Was to wed the fair Helen of brave Lochinvar. 
 
 So boldly he enter'd the Netherby hall, 
 
 Among bridesmen, and kinsmen, and brothers and all; 
 
 Then spake the bride's father, his hand on his sword, 
 
 (For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word,) 
 
 " come ye in peace here, or come ye in war, 
 
 Or to dance at our bridal, young lord Lochinvar ?" 
 
 " I long woo'd your daughter, my suit you deny'd; — 
 
 Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide — 
 
 And now I am come, with this lost love of mine, 
 
 To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine. 
 
 There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far, 
 
 That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar. 
 
 The bride kiss'd the goblet; the knight took it up, 
 
 He quaff d off the wine, and he threw down the cup 
 
 She louk'd down to blush, and she look'd up to sigh, 
 
 With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye. 
 
 He took her soft hand, e'er her mother could barr — 
 
 " Now tread me a measure !" said young Lochinvar. 
 
 So stately his form, and so lovely her face, 
 
 That never a hall such a galliard did grace ; 
 
 While her mother did fret, and her father did fume, 
 
 And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume, 
 
 And the bride-maidens whisper'd 'twere better by far 
 
 To have match'd our fair cousin with young Lochinvar. 
 
 One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear, 
 
 When they reach'd the hall door, and the charger stood near 
 
 So light to the croup the fair lady he swung, 
 
 So light to tne s ddle before her he sprung! 
 
 She is won ! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur; 
 
 They'll have fleet steeds that follow, quoth young Lochinvar 
 
 There was mounting 'mong Graemes of the Netherby clan ; 
 
 Forsters, Fenwieks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran ; 
 
 There was racing and chacing, on Cannobie lee, 
 
 But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see, 
 
 So daring in love, and so dauntless in war, 
 
 Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar? 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 67 
 
 
 ab " He kens though oft he sued for love, 
 
 
 
 
 Upon his bended knee, 
 
 
 
 Ha^gj 3l«aE, 
 
 Ae tender word — ae kindly look, 
 He never gat frae me. 
 
 
 
 [Modern Ballad.— Robert "White, — Origi- 
 nally printed in the legendary department of a 
 
 "And he has gained my mother's ear, — 
 
 My father's stern command; 
 Yet this fond heart can ne'er be his, 
 
 
 
 •work entitled, " The Local Historian's Table 
 Book for Northumberland and Durham," New- 
 
 Although he claim my hand. 
 
 
 
 castle, 1842. — The scenery of this ballad is in 
 Northumberland. Bothal Castle is beaut'ful'y 
 
 " Ellen, softly list to me ! 
 
 
 
 situated on the Wansbeck, a few miles b low 
 
 I still may 'scape the snare . 
 When morning raise owre Otterburne, 
 The tidings would be there. 
 
 
 
 Morpeth. At Otterburne stood a tower or cnstle 
 which was long in possession of the Umphrevilles, 
 
 
 
 a distinguished family ; and the place has ac- 
 quired great celebiity in Border histiry and song, 
 from the battle fought there in 1388 between the 
 
 "And hurrying on comes Umphreville,—. 
 
 His spur is sharp at need. 
 There's nane in a* Northumberland, 
 
 
 
 heroes, Douglas and Percy.] 
 
 Can mount a fleeter steed. 
 
 
 
 By Bothal Tower, sweet Wansbeck's stream 
 
 " Ah ! weel I ken his heart is true — 
 
 
 
 Bins bickerin' to the sea; 
 
 He will — he must be here: 
 
 
 
 Aloft, within the breeze o' morn, 
 
 Aboon the garden wa' he'll wave ' 
 
 
 
 The banner's wavin' free. 
 
 The pennon o' his spear." — 
 
 
 
 There's joy in Bothal's bonnie bowers; 
 
 " Far is the gate, the burns are deep, 
 
 
 
 There's mirth within the ha'; 
 
 The broken muirs are wide ; 
 
 
 
 But owre the cheeks o' Lady Jean, 
 
 Fair lady, ere your true love come, 
 
 
 
 The tricklin' tear-draps fa'. 
 
 Ye'll be lord Dacre's bride. 
 
 
 
 She sits within her chamber high — 
 
 " Wi' stately, solemn step the priest 
 
 
 
 Her cousin by her side ; 
 
 Climbs up the chapel stair: 
 
 
 
 Yet sweer is she to don the dress 
 
 Alas! alas ! for Umphreville; 
 
 
 
 That's fitting for a bride. 
 
 His heart may weel be sair! 
 
 
 
 " haste ! lord Dacre's on his way; 
 
 " Keep back ! keep back ! lord Dacre's steed— 
 
 
 
 Ye ha'e nae time to spare: 
 
 Ye maunna trot but gang: 
 
 
 
 Come let me clasp that girdle jimp, 
 
 And baste ye ! haste ye ! Umphreville ! 
 
 
 
 And braid your glossy hair. 
 
 Your lady thinks ye lang." — 
 
 
 
 " Of a' the ladies i' the land, 
 
 1 
 
 In velvet sheen she wadna dress : 
 
 
 
 Ye'se be surpass'd by nane; 
 
 Nae pearls owre her shone; 
 
 
 
 The lace that's on your velvet robe, 
 
 Nor broidered necklace, sparkling bright, 
 
 
 
 Wi' goud 'ill stand its lane. 
 
 Would lady Jean put on. 
 
 
 
 " This jewelled chaplet ye'll put on — 
 
 Up raise she frae her cushion'd seat, 
 
 
 
 That broidered necklace gay ; 
 
 And tottered like to fa' ; 
 
 
 
 For we maun ha'e ye buskit weel 
 
 Her cheek grew like the rose, and then 
 
 
 
 On this— your bridal day." — 
 
 Turned whiter than the sua'. 
 
 
 
 " ! Ellen, ye would think it hard 
 
 "O Ellen, thraw the casement up; 
 
 
 
 To wed against your will ! 
 
 Let in the air to me : 
 
 
 
 I never loo'd lord Dacre yet; 
 
 Look down within the castle-yard, 
 
 
 
 1 dinna like him still. v 
 
 ^ And tell me what ye see." — 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 (Jg SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 " Tour father's stan'in' on the steps— { 
 
 b " You shall not live without man kind : 
 
 
 Your mother's at the door; 
 
 But you shall marry me • 
 
 
 Out through the postern comes the train- 
 
 And, among the flouirs in my garden, 
 
 
 Lord Dacre rides before. 
 
 I'll shape a weed for thee. 
 
 
 " Fu' yauld an'gracefu' lichts he down, 
 
 " The lilye flouir to be your smock ; 
 
 
 Sae does his gallant band ; 
 
 It becomes your bodie best. 
 
 
 And low he doffs his bonnet plume, 
 
 Your heid sail be busket wi" the gellye 
 
 
 And shakes your father's hand. 
 
 flouir ; 
 The primrose in your breist. 
 
 
 "List! lady, list a bugle note! 
 
 
 
 It sounds not loud but clear;— 
 
 " Tour goun sail be o' the sweet william ; 
 
 
 Up ! up! I see aboon the wa', 
 
 Your coat o' the cammovine; 
 
 
 Your true love's pennou'd spear !" — 
 
 Your apron o' the seel o' downs : 
 Come, smile, sweetheart o' mine ! 
 
 
 An' up fu' quick gat lady Jean; — 
 
 
 
 Nae ailment had she mair : 
 
 " Your gloves sail be o' the green clover, 
 
 
 Blythe was her look, an' firm her step, 
 
 All glitterin' to your hand; 
 
 
 As she ran down the stair. 
 
 Weil spread ower wi' the blue blawort, 
 That grows among corn-land. 
 
 
 An' through amang the apple trees, 
 
 
 
 An' up the walk she flew: 
 
 " Your stockings shall be o' the cabbage leaf, 
 
 
 Until she reached her true love's side. 
 
 That is baith braid and lang ; 
 
 
 Her breath she scarcely drew. 
 
 Narrow, narrow, at the kute, 
 And braid, braid, at the branne. 
 
 
 Lord Dacre fain would see the bride : 
 
 
 
 He sought her bower alane ; 
 
 " Your shoon shall be o' the gude rue red ; 
 
 
 But dowf an' blunkit grew his look, 
 
 1 hope it bodes nae ill ; 
 
 
 "When lady Jean was gane. 
 
 The buckles o' the marygold : 
 
 Come, smile, sweetheart, your fill!" 
 
 
 Sair did her father stamp an' rage — 
 
 
 
 Sair did her mother mourn ; 
 
 " Young man, ye've shapit a weed for me, 
 
 
 She's up an' off wi' Umphreville, 
 
 Amang the simmer flouirs; 
 
 
 To bonnie Otterburne. 
 
 Now I will shape anither for you, 
 Amang the winter shouirs.* 
 
 
 Wi)t ©atiDeiwir. 
 
 " The snow so white shall be your shirt ; 
 It becomes ynur bodie best: 
 
 
 [From Messrs Kinlochand Buchan's collections.] 
 
 The cold east wind sail wrap your heid, 
 And the cold rain on your breist. 
 
 
 A maiden stude in her bouir door, 
 
 
 
 As jimp as a willow-wand ; 
 
 " The steed that you shall ride upon, 
 
 
 "When by there came a gardener lad, 
 
 Shall be the weather snell; 
 
 
 "Wi' a primrose in his hand. 
 
 Weil bridled wi' the northern wind, 
 And cold sharp shouirs o' hail. 
 
 
 " 0, ladye, are ye single yet, 
 
 
 
 Or will ye marry me? 
 
 The hat you on your heid sail wear, 
 
 
 Ye'se get a' the flouirs in my garden, 
 
 Sail be o' the wtather grey; 
 
 
 To be a weed for thee." 
 
 And, aye when ye come into my sight, 
 I'll wish ye were away." 
 
 
 " I love your flouirs," the ladye said ; 
 " But I winna marry thee: 
 
 
 
 
 For I can live without man -kind, 
 
 * A verse resembling this is sung by Davie 
 
 
 And without man-kind I'll dee.' < 
 
 ; Gcllatley in Waverley. ,' 
 
 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 C'c: r s Ssuntterg. 
 
 [These are at least four different versions of j 
 this affecting ballad extant. The first published, 
 and by far the best, is that given in the Min- 
 strelsy of the Scottish Border. The other ver- I 
 sions successively arpeared m the collections of 
 Messrs Jamieson.Kinloch, and Buchan. Mother- 
 well says that he has heard a version called The | 
 Seven Bluidy Brothers, but he does not quote it. 
 We can make room only here for two sets of the 
 ballad— Scott's and Jamitson's, but we shall 
 mark in a note the different readings of Kinloch 
 and Buchan on the most striking passage in the 
 story. Sir "Walter's version owes much of its 
 beauty and fine effect to the appropriation of 
 some verses from a different ballad, Sweet Wil- 
 liam's Ghost, hereafter to be given. He thus in- 
 troduces " Clerk Saunders" in the fifth edition of 
 his Minstrelsy.—" This romantic ballad is taken 
 from Mr Herd's MSS., with several corrections 
 from a shorter and more imperfect copy, in the 
 same volume, and one or two conjectural emen- 
 dations in the arrangement of the stanzas. The 
 resemblance of the conclusion to the ballad, be- 
 ginning, ' There came a ghost to Margaret's 
 door,' will strike every reader. The tale is un- 
 commonly wild and beautiful, and apparently 
 very ancient. The custom of the passing bell is 
 still kept up in many villages in Scotland. The 
 sexton goes through the town, ringing a small 
 bell, and announcing the death of the departed, 
 and the time of the funeral. The three con- 
 cluding verses have been recovered since the first 
 edition of this work : and I am informed by the 
 reciter, that it was usual to separate from the 
 rest that part of the ballad which follows the 
 death of the lovers, as belonging to another 
 story. For this, however, there seems no neces- 
 sity, as other authorities give the whole as a 
 complete tale."] 
 
 Clerk Sacnders and may Margaret 
 Walked ower yon garden green ; 
 
 And sad and heavy was the love 
 That fell thir twa between. 
 
 " A bed, a bed," Clerk Saunders said, 
 
 " A bed for you and me !" 
 " Fye na, fye na," said may Margaret, 
 
 " Till anes we married be. ^ 
 
 " For in may come my seven bauld brothers, 
 
 "Wi" torches burning bright ; 
 They'll say—' "We ha'e but ae s'ster, 
 
 And behold she's wi' a knight !' " 
 
 " Then take the sword frae my scabbard, 
 
 And slowly lift the pin ; 
 And you may swear, and safe your aith, 
 
 Ye never let Clerk Saunders in. 
 
 " And take a napkin in your hand, 
 And tie up baith your bonnie een ; 
 
 And you may swear, and safe your aith, 
 Te saw me na since late yestreen." 
 
 It was about the midnight hour, 
 
 When they asleep were laid, 
 "When in and came her seven brothers, 
 
 "Wi' torches burning red. 
 
 When in and came her seven brothers, * 
 
 Wi' torches burning bright; 
 They said, " We ha'e but ae sister, 
 
 And l*hold her lying with a knight! 
 
 * Mr Kinloch's copy : 
 
 Then in there cam' her firsten brother, 
 
 Bauldly he cam' steppin' in: — 
 " Coine here, come here, see what I see, 
 "We ha'e only but ae sister alive, 
 And a knave is in bou'r her wi' !" 
 
 Then in and cam' her second brither— 
 Says, " Twa lovers ate ill to twin :" 
 
 And in and cam' her thirden brother, — 
 " O brother, dear, I say the same." 
 
 Then in and cam' her fourthen brother,— 
 '• It's a sin to kill a slcepin' man:" 
 
 And in and cam' her fifthen brother, — 
 " O brother, dear, I say the same." 
 
 Then in and cam' her sixthen brother, — 
 " I wat he's ne'er be steer'd by me:" 
 
 But in and cam' her sevenih brother, — 
 " I bear the hand that sail gar him dee.' 
 
 Mr Buchan's copy : 
 
 Then in it came her Beven brothers, 
 And a' their torches burning bright; 
 
 They said, •' We ha'e but ae sister. 
 And here she's lying wi' a knight." 
 
 O. out it speaks the first o' them, 
 "We will awa" and let them be;" 
 
 Then out it speaks the second o' them, 
 " His father has nae mair but he." 
 

 
 
 
 
 70 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 Then out and spake the first o' them, { 
 
 ^ Then in and came her father dear, 
 
 
 
 " I bear the sword shall gar him die !" 
 
 Said — " Let a' your mourning be: 
 
 
 
 And out and spake the second o' them, 
 
 | I'll carry the dead corpse to the clay, 
 
 
 
 " His father has nae mair than he !'* 
 
 And I'll come back and comfort thee " 
 
 
 
 And out and spake the third o' them, 
 
 " Comfort weel your seven sons, 
 
 
 
 " 1 wot that they are lovers dear !" 
 
 For comforted will I never be: 
 
 
 
 And out and spake the fourth o' them, 
 
 I ween 'twas neither knave nor lown 
 
 
 
 " They ha'e been in love this mony a year !" 
 
 Was in the bower last night wi' me." 
 
 
 
 Then out and spake the fifth o* them, 
 
 The clinking bell gaed through the town, 
 
 
 
 " It were great sin true love to twain I" 
 
 To carry the dead corse to the clay ; 
 
 
 
 And out and spake the sixth o' them, 
 
 And Clerk Saunders stood at may MargareVs 
 
 
 
 " It were shame to slay a sleeping man !" 
 
 window, 
 I wot, an hour before the day. 
 
 
 
 Then up and gat the seventh o' them, 
 
 
 
 
 And never a word spake he ; 
 
 "Are ye sleeping, Margaret?" he says, 
 
 
 
 But he has striped* his bright brown brand 
 
 " Or are ye waking presentlie ? 
 
 
 
 Out through Clerk Saunders' fair bodye. 
 
 Give me my faith and troth again, 
 I wot, true love, 1 gied to thee." 
 
 
 
 Clerk Saunders he started and Margaret she 
 
 
 
 
 turn'd 
 
 " Tour faith and troth ye sail never get, 
 
 
 
 Into his arms as asleep she lay ; 
 
 Nor our true love sail never twin, 
 
 
 
 And sad and silent was the night 
 
 Until ye come within my bower, 
 
 
 
 That was atween thir twae. 
 
 And kiss me cheik and chin." 
 
 
 
 And they lay still and sleeped sound, 
 
 "My mouth it is full cold, Margaret, 
 
 
 
 Until the day began to daw; 
 
 It has the smell now of the ground; 
 
 
 
 And kin Uy. to him she did say, 
 
 And if I kiss thy comely mouth, 
 
 
 
 " It is time, true love, you were awa'." 
 
 Thy days of life will not be lang. 
 
 
 
 But he lay still, and sleepit sound, 
 
 " O, cocks are crowing a merry midnight, 
 
 
 
 Albeit the sun began to sheen; 
 
 I wot the wild fowls are boding day; 
 
 
 
 She looked atween her and the wa', 
 
 Give me my faith and troth again, 
 
 
 
 And dull and drowsie were his een. 
 
 And let me fare me on my way." 
 " Thy faith and troth thou sail na get, 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Out it speaks the third o' them, 
 
 And our true love shall never twin, 
 
 
 
 For he was standing on the birk ; 
 
 Until ye tell what conies of women, 
 
 
 
 " Nae sweeter could twa lovers lye, 
 Though they'd been married in a kirk." 
 
 I wot, who die in strong traivelling >" 
 
 
 
 Then out it speaks the fourth o' them, 
 " Blair fair and lovely is his buke; 
 
 " Their beds are made in the heavens high, 
 
 
 
 Down at the foot of our good lord's knee, 
 
 
 
 Our sisler dear we cannot blame, 
 
 Weel set about wi' gillyflowers;* 
 
 
 
 Although in him she pleasure took." 
 Then out it speaks the fifth o' them, 
 
 I wot sweet company for to see. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Then out it spake the sixth o' them, 
 " It's hard a sleeping man to kill." 
 
 * From whatever source the popular ideas of 
 
 
 
 heaven be derived, the mention of gillyflowers is 
 
 
 
 
 not uncommon. Thus, in the Dead Mens Song — 
 
 
 
 But out it speaks the seventh o' them, 
 
 
 
 
 (I wish an ill Jeath mat he dee!) 
 « I wear the sharp brand by my side, 
 
 The fields about this city faire 
 
 
 
 Were all with roses set; 
 
 
 
 That soon shall gar Clerk Sandy die." 
 
 Gillyflowers, and carnations faire, 
 Which canker could not fret. 
 
 
 
 Striped— Thrust. ^ 
 
 f Ritson'a Ancient Songs, p. 283. 
 
 
 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 11 
 
 " cocks are crowing a merry mid-night, 
 1 wot the wild fowl are boding day ; 
 
 The psalms of heaven will soon be sung, 
 And I, ere now, will be missed away." 
 
 Then she has ta'en a crystal wan, 
 
 And she has stroken her troth thereon ; 
 
 She has given it him out at the shot-window, 
 Wi' niony a sad sigh, and heavy groan. 
 
 " I thank ye, Marg'ret; I thank ye, Marg'ret j 
 
 And aye I thank ye heartilie ; 
 Gin ever the dead come for the quick, 
 
 Be sure, Marg'ret, I'll come for thee." 
 
 Its hosen and shoon, and gown alone, 
 She climbed the wall, and followed him, 
 
 Until she came to the green forest, 
 And there she lost the sight o' him. 
 
 " Is there ony room at your head, Saunders ? 
 
 Is there ony room at your feet ? 
 Or ony room at your side, Saunders, 
 
 "Where fain, fain, I wad sleep i" 
 
 " There's nae room at my head, Marg'ret, 
 
 There's nae room at my feet ; 
 My bed it is fuil lowly now : 
 
 Amang the hungry worms I sleep. 
 
 " Cauld mould is my covering now, 
 
 But and my winding-sheet; 
 The dew it falls nae sooner down, 
 
 Than my resting-place is weet. 
 
 The description, given in the legend of Sir 
 Owain, of the terrestrial paradise, at which the 
 blessed arrive, after passing through purgatory, 
 omits gillyflowers, though it mentions many 
 others. A s the passage is curious, and the legend 
 has never been published, many persons may not 
 be displeased to see it extracted — 
 
 Fair were her erbers with flowers, 
 Rose and lili divers colours, 
 
 Primrol and parvink; 
 Mint, feverfoy, and eglenterre, 
 Columbin, and mo ther wer 
 
 Than ani man mui bithenke. 
 
 It berth erbes of other maner, 
 Than ani in erth groweth here, 
 
 Tho that is lest of priis ; 
 Evermore thai grene springeth, 
 For winter no somer it no clingeth; 
 
 And sweeter than licorice. — Scott. 
 
 " But plait a wand o' bonnie birk,* 
 
 And lay it on my breast; 
 And shed a tear upon my grave, 
 
 And wish my saul gude rest. 
 
 " And fair Marg'ret, and rare MargTet, 
 
 And Marg'ret o' veritie, 
 Gin e'er ye love another man, 
 
 Ne'er love him as ye did me." 
 
 Then up and crew the milk-white cock, 
 And up and crew the gray ; 
 
 Her lover vanish'd in the air, 
 And she gaed weeping away. 
 
 CLERK SAUNDERS. 
 
 [Jamieson's version.— Mr Jamieson says that 
 had he " been aware, in time, of the superiority 
 in contrivance and effect of Mr Scott's copy, he 
 would most cheerfully have given up his own for 
 its farther improvement; but that not having 
 been the case, as he is of opinion, that the fol- 
 lowing variety of this affecting tale is still suffi- 
 ciently curious to merit preservation, he has 
 thought proper to adopt it, more from a hope of 
 gratifying the curious antiquary, than of pre- 
 senting the mere belief lettres critic with any 
 thing deserving of his notice or approbation. 
 
 Nothing could have been better imagined 
 than the circumstance, in Mr Scott's copy, of 
 killing Clerk Saunders while his mistress was 
 asleep ; nor can any thing be more natural or 
 
 * The custom of binding the new-laid sod of 
 the church yard with osiers, or other saplings, 
 prevailed both in England and Scotland, and 
 served to protect the turf from injury by cattle, or 
 otherwise. It is alluded to by Gay in the What 
 d'ye call it — 
 
 "When I am dead yc 
 
 s my last earthly liquor, 
 bind my grave with wicker. 
 
 In the Shepherd's Week, the same custom is 
 alluded to, and the cause explained : — 
 
 With wicker rods we fenced her tomb around, 
 To ward, from man and beast, the hallowed ground 
 I est her new grave the parson's cattle raze, 
 For both his horse and cow the church-vard graze. 
 Fifth Pastoral.— Scott. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 72 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 pathetic than the three stanzas that follow. !ft " I'll no go to the cards," she says, 
 
 
 
 They might have charmed a whole volume of 
 
 "Nor to the table to dine; 
 
 
 
 bad poetry against the ravages of time; in Mr 
 
 But I'll go to a bed, that's weel down spread 
 
 
 
 Scott's volumes they shine but like pearls among 
 
 And sleep when we get time." 
 
 
 
 diamonds. 
 
 
 
 
 'Clerk Saunders he started, andMarsj'ret she turn'd 
 Into his arms, as asleep she lay; 
 
 They were not weel leyn down, 
 And no weel fa'en asleep, 
 
 
 
 And sad and silent was the night 
 
 When up and stood May Margaret's bre- 
 
 
 
 That was atween thir twae. 
 
 Just up at their bed feet. [thren, 
 
 
 
 'And they lay still and sleeped sound, 
 Until the day began to daw; 
 
 
 
 
 " tell us, tell us, May Margaret, 
 
 
 
 And kindly to him she did say, 
 
 " It's time, true love, you were awa'." 
 
 And dinna to us len,* 
 wha is aught yon noble steed, 
 That stands your stable in?" 
 
 
 
 ' But he lay still and sleeped sound, 
 Albeit tue sun be = 'aci to sheen; 
 
 
 
 She lookit atween her and the wa', 
 
 
 
 
 And dull aud drowsie were his een.' 
 
 " The steed is mine, and it may be thine, 
 
 
 
 The following copy was transmitted by Mrs 
 
 To ride whan ye ride on hie — 
 
 
 
 Arrott of Aberbrothick. The stanzas, where 
 
 
 
 
 the seven brothers are introduced, have been 
 
 
 
 
 enlarged from two fragments, which, although 
 
 " But awa', awa', my bauld brethren, 
 
 
 
 very defective in themselves, furnish lines which, 
 when incorporated with the text, seemed to im- 
 
 Awa', and mak' nae din ; 
 
 
 
 For I am as sick a lady the nicht 
 
 
 
 prove it. Stanzas 21 and 22 were written by the 
 
 As e'er lay a bower within." 
 
 
 
 editor ; the idea of the rose being suggested by 
 
 
 
 
 the gentleman who recited, but who could not 
 
 " tell us, tell us, May Margaret, 
 
 
 
 recollect the language in which it was ex- 
 
 And dinna to us len, 
 
 
 
 pressed."] 
 
 wha is aught yon noble hawk, 
 
 
 
 That stands your kitchen in?" 
 
 
 
 Clerk Saundkrs was an earl's son, 
 
 
 
 
 He lived upon sea-sand ; 
 
 " The hawk is mine, and it may be thine, 
 
 
 
 May Margaret was a king's daughter, 
 
 To hawk whan ye hawk in hie — 
 
 
 
 She lived in upper land. 
 
 
 
 
 Clerk Saunders was an earl's son, 
 
 " But awa', awa', my bald brethren ! 
 
 
 
 Weel learn 'd at the scheel ; 
 
 Awa' and mak' nae din ; 
 
 
 
 May Margaret was a king's daughter; — 
 
 For I'm ane o' the sickest ladies this nicht 
 
 
 
 They baith lo'ed ither weel. 
 
 That e'er lay bower within." 
 
 
 
 He's throw the dark, and throw the mark, 
 
 " tell us, tell us, May Margaret, 
 
 
 
 And throw the leaves o' green ; 
 
 And dinna to us len, 
 
 
 
 Till he came to May Margaret's door, 
 
 wha is that, May Margaret, 
 
 
 
 And tirled at the pin. 
 
 You and the wa' between ?" 
 
 
 
 " sleep ye, wake ye, May Margaret, 
 
 " 0, it is my bower-maiden," she says, 
 
 
 
 Or are ye the bower within ?'- 
 
 " As sick as sick can be ; 
 
 
 
 " wha is that at my bower door, 
 
 0, it is my bower-maiden," she says, 
 
 
 
 Sae weel my name does ken ?" 
 
 " And she's thrice as sick as me." 
 
 
 
 "It's I, Clerk Saunders, your true love, 
 
 
 
 
 
 You'll open and let me in." 
 
 * The term ten, in this sense, is, so far as I 
 know, now obsolete in Scotland. It here means 
 
 
 
 " will ye to the cards, Margaret, 
 
 to stop or hesitate, and is used in the same sense 
 
 
 
 Or to the table to dine ? i 
 
 by Browne, in his " Britannia's Pastorals." It 
 
 
 
 Or to the bed, that's weel down spread 
 
 j seems to be the same with the old English and 
 
 
 
 And sleep when we get time." ^ 
 
 \ Scottish blin, to cease, or stop. — Jamieson. 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. f 3 
 
 
 " We ha'e been east, and we've been west, Q "0 wae be to you, my fause brethren, 
 
 
 
 And low beneath the moon ; 
 
 And an ill death mat ye die ! 
 
 
 
 Bat a' the bower-women e'er we saw 
 
 Ye mith slain Clerk Saunders in open field, 
 
 
 
 Hadna goud buckles in their shoon." 
 
 And no in the bed wi' me." 
 
 
 
 Then up and spak' her eldest brither, 
 
 When seven years were come and gane, 
 
 
 
 Aye in ill time spak' he ; 
 
 Lady Margaret she thought lang; 
 
 
 
 " It is Clerk Saunders, your true love, 
 
 And she is up to the hichest tower, 
 
 
 
 And never mat I thee, 
 
 By the lee licht o' the moon. 
 
 
 
 But for this scorn that he has done, 
 
 
 
 
 This moment he sail die." 
 
 She was lookin' o'er her castle high, 
 To see what she might fa' ; 
 
 
 
 But up and spak' her youngest brother; 
 
 And there she saw a grieved ghost 
 
 
 
 Aye in guod time spak' he : 
 
 Comin' waukin' o'er the wa'. 
 
 
 
 " 0, but they are a gudelie pair ! — 
 
 
 
 
 True lovers an ye be, 
 
 " 0, are ye a man of mean," she says, 
 
 
 
 The sword that hangs at my sword-belt 
 
 Seekin' ony o" my meat? 
 
 
 
 Shall never sinder ye !" 
 
 Or are you a rank robber, 
 
 Come in my bower to break?" 
 
 
 
 Syne up and spak' her nexten brother, 
 
 
 
 
 And the tear stood in his e'e, 
 
 " 0, I'm Clerk Saunders, your true love; 
 
 
 
 "Youve lo'ed her lang, and lo'ed her 
 
 Behold, Margaret, and see, 
 
 
 
 weel. 
 
 And mind, for a' your meikle pride, 
 
 
 
 And pity it wad be, 
 
 Sae will become of thee." 
 
 
 
 The sword that hangs at my sword-belt 
 
 
 
 
 Shoud ever sinder ye !" 
 
 "Gin ye be Clerk Saunders, my true love, 
 This meikle marvels me — 
 
 
 
 But up and spak' her fiften brother, 
 
 wherein is your bonnie arms 
 
 
 
 " Sleep on your sleep for me ; 
 
 That wont to embrace me?" 
 
 
 
 But we baith sail never sleep again, 
 
 
 
 
 For the tane of us sail die I" 
 
 " By worms they're eaten ; in mools they're 
 Behold, Margaret, and see ; [rotten ; 
 
 
 
 But up and spak' her midmaist brother; 
 
 And mind, for a' your mickle pride, 
 
 
 
 And an angry laugh leuch he; 
 
 Sae will become o' thee !" 
 
 
 
 "The thorn that dabs I'll cut it down, 
 
 
 
 
 Though fair the rose may be. 
 
 bonnie, bonnie sang the bird, 
 Sat on the coil o' hay ; 
 
 
 
 " The flower that smell'd sae sweet yestreen 
 
 But dowie dowie was the maid, 
 
 
 
 Has lost its bloom wi' thee; 
 
 That follow'd the corpse o' clay 
 
 
 
 And though I'm wae it should be sae, 
 
 
 
 
 Clerk Saunders, ye maun die." 
 
 " Is there ony room at your head, Saunders, 
 Is there ony room at your feet ? 
 
 
 
 And up and spak' her thirden brother, 
 
 Is there ony ruom at your twa sides 
 
 
 
 Aye in ill time spak' he; 
 
 For a lady to lie and sleep ?" 
 
 
 
 " Curse on his love and comeliness ' — 
 
 
 
 
 Dishonour'd as ye be, 
 
 " There is nae room at my head, Margaret ; 
 
 
 
 The sword that hangs at my sword-belt 
 
 As little at my feet; 
 
 
 
 Sail quickly sinder ye!" 
 
 There is nae room at my twa sides 
 For a lady to lie and sleep. 
 
 
 
 Her eldest brother has drawn his sword ; 
 
 
 
 
 Htr second has drawn anither; 
 
 " But gae hame, gae hame, now, May Marga- 
 
 
 
 Between Clerk Saunders' hause and collar 
 
 Gae hame and sew your seam ; [ret; 
 
 
 
 bane 
 
 For if ye were laid in your weel-made bed, 
 
 
 
 The cald iron met thegither. ^ 
 
 ? Your days will nae be lang." 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 74 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 
 4ft She's louted down unto his foot, 
 
 
 
 
 To lowze sweet Willie s shoon, 0; 
 
 
 
 Jbfotet Milk anfe Ei% 
 
 The buckles were sae stiff they wadna lowze, 
 The blood had frozen in, 0. 
 
 
 
 JEatgedc. 
 
 " Willie, Willie, I fear that thou 
 Hast bred me dule and sorrow ; 
 
 
 
 ("From Motherwell's collection. "This bal- 
 
 The deed that thou hast done this nicht, 
 
 
 
 lad," says Mr Motherwell, " which possesses 
 
 Will kythe upon the morrow." 
 
 
 
 considerable beauty and pathos, is given from 
 
 
 
 
 the recitation of a lady now far advanced in 
 
 In then came her father dear, 
 
 
 
 years, with whose grandmother it was a deserved 
 
 And a braid sword by his gare, ; 
 
 
 
 favourite. It is now for the first time printed. 
 
 And he's gi'en Willie, the widow's son, 
 
 
 
 It tears some resemblance to Clerk Saunders."] 
 
 A deep wound and a sair, 
 
 
 
 Svvekt "Wim.tb was a widow's son, 
 
 " Lye yont, lye yont, Willie," she snys, 
 
 
 
 And he wore a milk-white weed, ; 
 
 " Your sweat weets a' my side, ; 
 
 
 
 And weel could Willie read and write, 
 
 Lye yont, lye yont, Willie," she says, 
 
 
 
 Far better rido on steed, 0. 
 
 " For your sweat I downa bide, 0." 
 
 
 
 Lady Margerie was the first ladye, 
 
 She turned her back unto the wa', 
 
 
 
 That drank to him the wine, ; 
 
 Her face unto the room, 0; 
 
 
 
 And aye as the healths gaed round and round, 
 
 And there she saw her auld father, 
 
 
 
 " Laddy, your love is mine, 0." 
 
 Fast walking up and doun, 0. 
 
 
 
 Lady Margerie was the first ladye, 
 
 " Woe be to you, father," she said, 
 
 
 
 That drank to bim the beer, ; 
 
 " And an ill deid may you die, ; 
 
 
 
 And aye as the healths gaed round and round, 
 
 For ye've kill'd Willie, the widow's son, 
 
 
 
 "Laddy, ye're welcome here, 0." 
 
 And he would have married me, 0." 
 
 
 
 "You must come intill my bower, 
 
 She turned her back unto the room, 
 
 
 
 When the evening bells do ring, 0; 
 
 Her face unto the wa', O ; 
 
 
 
 And you must come intill my bovver, 
 
 And with a deep and heavy s:ch, 
 
 
 
 When the evening mass doth sing, 0." 
 
 Her heart it brake in twa, 0. 
 
 
 
 He's ta'en four-and-twenty braid arrows, 
 
 
 
 
 And laced them in a whang, ; 
 
 
 
 
 And he's awa' to lady Margerie's tower, 
 
 
 
 
 As fast as he can gang, 0. 
 
 jlfowt IMIieii! mb i$Iug ■ 
 
 
 
 He set his ae foot on the wa', 
 
 
 
 
 And the other on a stane, 0; 
 
 JEaspwfr. . 
 
 
 
 And he's kill'd a' the king's life guards, 
 
 
 
 He's kill'd them every man, 0. 
 
 [From Mr Kinloch's collection. — " Though 
 
 
 
 "Oh open, open, lady Margerie, 
 
 this." says Mr Kinloch, " is evidently a distinct 
 
 
 
 Open and let me in, ; 
 
 ballad from ' Clerk Saunders,' yet the editor of 
 
 
 
 The weet weets a' my yellow hair, 
 
 the Border Minstrelsy has incorporated it with 
 
 
 
 And the dew draps on my chin, 0." 
 
 that ballad; notwithstanding it appears that he 
 was informed by the reciter, that it was usual to 
 
 
 
 With her feet as white as sleet, 
 
 separate from the rest, that part of the ballad 
 
 
 
 She strod her bower within, 0; 
 
 which follows the death of the lovers, as belong- 
 
 
 
 And with her fingers lang and sma', 
 
 ing to another story. ' For this, however,' says 
 
 
 
 She's looten sweet Willie in, 0. \ 
 
 i he, ' there seems no necessity, as other authori- 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 15 
 
 ties give the whole as a complete tale.' — "Vol. II. 
 page 405. The editor has obtained two copies of 
 this ballad, as quite unconnected with ' Clerk 
 Saunders,' and founded upon a different story. 
 Another version of it, in the present form, under 
 the title of 'Sweet William's Ghost," will be 
 found in Ramsay's Tea-Table Miscellany, and a 
 similar one in the ' Minstrelsy Ancient and 
 Modern,' entitled William and Marjorie."J 
 
 As May Marg'ret sat in her bouerie, 
 
 In her bpuer all alone, 
 At the very parting o' midnicht, 
 
 She heard a mournfu' moan. 
 
 "O is it my father, O is it my mother ? 
 
 Or is it my brother John ? 
 Or is it sweet William, my ain true love, 
 
 To Scotland new come homer"' 
 
 " It is na your father, it is na your mother, 
 
 It is na your brother John : 
 But it is sweet William, your ain true-love, 
 
 To Scotland new come home."— 
 
 " Ha'e ye brought me onie fine things, 
 
 Onie new thing for to wear? 
 Or ha'e ye brought me a braid o' lace, 
 
 To snood up my gowden hair ?" 
 
 "I've brought ye na fine things at all, 
 
 Nor onie new thing to wear, 
 Nor ha'e I brought ye a braid of lace, 
 
 To snood up your gowden hair. 
 
 " But Margaret ! dear Margaret ! 
 
 I P r ay ye speak to me ; 
 O gi'e me back my faith and troth, 
 
 As dear as 1 gied it thee." 
 
 " Your faith and troth ye sanna get, 
 
 Nor will I wi' ye twin, 
 Till ye come within my bouer, 
 
 And kiss me cheek and chin." 
 
 "O Margaret! dear Margaret.' 
 
 I pray ye speak to me; 
 O gi'e me back my faith and troth, 
 
 As dear as I gied it thee." 
 
 "Your faith and troth ye sanna get, 
 
 Nor will I wi' ye twin, 
 Till ye tak' me to yonder kirk, 
 
 And wed me wi' a ring." 
 
 " O should I come within your bouer, 
 
 I am na earthly man ; 
 If I should kiss your red, red lips, 
 
 Your days wad na be lang. 
 
 " My banes are buried in yon kirk -yard, 
 
 It's far ayont the sea; 
 And it is my spirit, Margaret, 
 
 That's speaking unto thee." 
 
 " Your faith and troth ye sanna get, 
 
 Nor will 1 twin we thee, 
 Till ye tell me the pleasures o' heaven, 
 
 And pains of hell how they be." 
 
 " The pleasures of heaven I wat not of, 
 
 But the pains of hell I dree; 
 There some are hie hang'd for huring, 
 
 And some for adulterie." 
 
 Then Marg'ret took her milk-white hand, 
 And smooth'd it on his breast; — 
 
 " Tak' your faith and troth, William, 
 God send your soul good rest." 
 
 gfottt IKKilUaiu'is <S|)^t 
 
 [From the fourth volume of Ramsay's Tea 
 Table Miscellany. Ritson says, " The two last 
 stanzas were probably added by Ramsay : they 
 are evidently spurious."] 
 
 There came a ghost to Marg Vet's door, 
 With many a grievous groan ; 
 
 And aye he tirled at the pin, 
 But answer made she none. 
 
 " Is that my father Philip ? 
 
 Or is't my brother John ? 
 Or is't my true love Willie, 
 
 From Scotland new come home ?' 
 
 " 'Tis not thy father Philip, 
 
 Nor yet thy brother John ; 
 But 'tis thy true love Willie, 
 
 From Scotland new come home. 
 
 O sweet Marg'ret ! O dear Marg'ret ' 
 
 I pray thee speak tone; 
 Give me my faith and troth, Marg'ret, 
 
 As I gave it to thee." 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 " 
 
 
 
 
 76 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 " Thy faith and troth thou's never get, & "0 stay, my only true love, stay," 
 
 
 
 Nor yet will I thee lend, 
 
 The constant Marg'ret cry'd ; 
 
 
 
 Till that thou come within my bower, 
 
 Wan grew her cheeks, she clos'd her een. 
 
 
 
 And kiss my cheek and chin." 
 
 Stretch'd her soft limbs and dy'd. 
 
 
 
 " If I should come within thy bower, 
 
 
 
 
 I am no earthly man ; 
 
 
 
 
 
 And should I kiss thy rosy lips, 
 
 
 
 
 Thy days will not be lang. 
 
 
 
 
 " sweet Marg'ret! dear Marg'ret! 
 
 OTOUarat anb JEan®ne. 
 
 
 
 I pray thee speak to me ; 
 
 
 
 
 Give me my faith and troth, Marg'ret, 
 
 [From Motherwell's Collection.] 
 
 
 
 As I gave it to thee." 
 
 Lad/ Marjorie, lady Marjorie, 
 
 
 
 " Thy faith and troth thou's never get, 
 
 Sat sewing her silken seam, 
 
 
 
 Nor yet will I thee lend, 
 
 And by her came a pale, pale ghost 
 
 
 
 Till you take me to yon kirk -yard, 
 
 Wi' mony a sigh and mane. 
 
 
 
 And wed me with a ring." 
 
 " Are ye my father the king," she says, 
 
 
 
 " My bones are buried in yon kirk-yard, 
 
 " Or are ye my brither John ? 
 
 
 
 Afar beyond the sea ; 
 
 Or are ye my true love sweet William, 
 
 
 
 And it is but my spirit, Marg'ret, 
 
 From England newly come?" 
 
 
 
 That's now speaking to thee." 
 
 " I'm not your father the king," he says, 
 
 
 
 She stretch 'd out her lilly-white hand, 
 
 "No, no, nor your brither John; 
 
 
 
 And for to do her best, 
 
 But I'm your true love sweet William, 
 
 
 
 "Hae, there's your faith and troth, Willie, 
 
 From England that's newly come." 
 
 
 
 God send your soul good rest." 
 
 " Have ye brought me any scarlet sae red. 
 
 
 
 Now she has kilted her robes of green, 
 
 Or any of the silks sae fine ; 
 
 
 
 A piece below her knee, 
 
 Or have ye brought me any precious things 
 
 
 
 And a' the live-lang winter night, 
 
 That merchants have for sale." 
 
 
 
 The dead corp followed she. 
 
 "I have not brought you any scarlets sae 
 
 
 
 " Is there any room at your head, Willie ? 
 
 red, 
 
 
 
 Or any room at your feet? 
 
 No, no, nor the silks sae fine ; 
 
 
 
 Or any room at your side, Willie, 
 
 But I have brought you my winding-sheet 
 
 
 
 Wherein that 1 may creep?" 
 
 Ower many a rock and hill. 
 
 
 
 " There's no room at my head, Marg'ret, 
 
 " Lady Marjorie, lady Marjorie! 
 
 
 
 There's no room at my feet; 
 
 For faith an' charitie, 
 
 
 
 There's no room at my side, Marg'ret, 
 
 Will ye gi'e to me my faith and troth 
 
 
 
 My coffin 's made so meet." 
 
 That I gave once to thee ?" 
 
 
 
 Then up and crew the red red cock, 
 
 " your faith and troth I'll not gi'e to thee, 
 
 
 
 And up then crew the gray: 
 
 No, no, that will not I, 
 
 
 
 " 'Tis time, 'tis time, my dear Marg'ret, 
 
 tin til I get ae kiss of your ruby lips, 
 
 
 
 That you were going away." 
 
 And in my arms you lye." 
 
 
 
 No more the ghost to Marg'ret said, 
 
 " My lips they are sae bitter," he says — 
 
 
 
 But with a grievous groan, 
 
 " My breath it is sae Strang ; 
 
 
 
 Evanish'd in a cloud of mist, 
 
 If you get ae kiss of my ruby lips, 
 
 
 
 And left her all alone. { 
 
 j Your days will not be lang. 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. ^7 
 
 
 " The cocks are crawing, Marjorie," he says— & The lines preserved in the play are this distich : 
 
 
 
 " The cocks are crawing again ; 
 It's time the dead should part frae the quick — 
 
 ■ You are no love for me, Margaret, 
 I am no love for you.' 
 
 
 
 Marjorie, 1 must be gane." 
 
 And the following stanza, 
 
 
 
 She followed him high, — she followed him low, 
 
 ' When it was grown to dark ml "blight, 
 
 
 
 Till she came to yon churchyard green; 
 
 And all were'fast asleep. 
 
 
 
 And there the deep grave opened up, 
 
 In came Margaret's grimly ghost, 
 And stood at William's feet.* 
 
 
 
 And young William he lay down. 
 
 These lines have acquired an importance by 
 
 
 
 " "What three things are these, sweet "William," 
 
 giving birth to one of the most beautiful ballads 
 
 
 
 she says, 
 
 in our own or any other language," — (alluding to 
 
 
 
 " That stands here at your head ?•* 
 
 the ballad of " William and Margaret," given 
 
 
 
 "0 it's three maidens, Marjorie," he says, 
 
 afterwards.)] 
 
 
 
 " That I promised once to wed." 
 
 As it fell out on a long summer's day 
 
 
 
 "What three things are these, sweet William," 
 
 Two lovers they sat on a hill; 
 
 
 
 she says, 
 
 They sat together that long summer's day, 
 
 
 
 "That stand close at your side ?" 
 
 And could not talk their fill. 
 
 
 
 " it's three babes, Marjorie," he says, 
 
 
 
 
 "That these three maidens had." 
 
 I see no harm by you, Margaret, 
 And you see none by mee ; 
 
 
 
 " What three things are these, sweet William," 
 
 Before to-morrow at eight o' the clock 
 
 
 
 she says, 
 
 A rich wedding you shall see. 
 
 
 
 " That lye close at your feet?" 
 
 
 
 
 " it's three hell-hounds, Marjorie," he says, 
 
 Fair Margaret sat in her bower-window, 
 
 
 
 " That's waiting my soul to keep." 
 
 Combing her yellow hair ; 
 There she spyed sweet William and his bride, 
 
 
 
 she took up her white, white hand, 
 
 As they were a riding near. 
 
 
 
 And she struck him on the breast ; 
 
 
 
 
 Saying—" Have there again your faith and 
 
 Then down she layd her ivory combe, 
 
 
 
 troth, 
 
 And braided her bair in twain : 
 
 
 
 And I wish your saul gude rest." 
 
 She went alive out of her bower, 
 But ne'er came alive in't again. 
 
 
 
 
 
 When day was gone, and night was come, 
 And all men fast asleep, 
 
 
 
 J^air Margaret ai^ §bto$tt 
 
 Then came the spirit of fair Marg'ret, 
 And stood at William's feet. 
 
 
 
 William. 
 
 "Are you awake, sweet William ?" she said ; 
 " Or, sweet William, are you asleep ? 
 
 
 
 [From Percy's collection. — "This seems,"says 
 
 God give you joy of y ur gay bride-bed, 
 
 
 
 Dr Percy, " to be the old song quoted in Flet- 
 
 And me of my winding sheet." 
 
 
 
 cher's ' Knight of the Burning Pestle,' Acts 2d 
 
 
 
 
 and 3d ; although the six lines there preserved 
 
 When day was come, and night was gone, 
 
 
 
 are somewhat different from those in the ballad, 
 
 And all men wak'd from sleep, 
 
 
 
 as it stands at present. The reader will not 
 
 Sweet William to his lady said, 
 
 
 
 wonder at this, when he is informed that this is 
 
 " My dear, I have cause to weep. 
 
 
 
 only given from a modern printed copy picked 
 
 
 
 
 up on a stall. Its full title is, ' Fair Mar- 
 
 " I dreamt a dream, my dear ladye, 
 
 
 
 garet's Misfortunes ; or Sweet William's fright- 
 
 Such dreames are never good : 
 
 
 
 ful dreams on his wedding night, with the sud- 
 
 I dreamt my bower was full of red ' wine,' 
 
 
 
 den death and burial of those noble lovers.' — < 
 
 e And my bride-bed full of blood." 
 
 
 
18 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 " Such dreams, such dreams, my honour'd sir, M 
 
 They never do prove good ; 
 To dream thy bower was full of red ' wine,' 
 
 And thy bride-bed full of blood." 
 
 He called up Ka merry men all, 
 
 By one, by two, and by three; 
 Saying, " I'll away to fair Marg'ret's bower, 
 
 By the leave of my ladie." 
 
 And when he came to fair Marg'ret's bower, 
 
 He knocked at the ring; 
 And who so ready as her seven brethren 
 
 To let sweet William in. 
 
 Then he turned up the covering-sheet, 
 
 " Pray let me see the dead ; 
 Methinks she looks all pale and wan, 
 
 She hath lost her cherry red. 
 
 " I'll do more for thee, Marg'ret, 
 
 Than any of thy kin ; 
 For 1 will kiss thy pale wan lips, 
 
 Though a smile I cannot win." 
 
 With that bespake the seven brethren, 
 
 Making most piteous mone: 
 "You may go kiss your jolly brown bride, 
 
 And let our sister alone." 
 
 " If I do kiss my jolly brown bride, 
 
 I do but what is right; 
 I ne'er made a vow to yonder poor corpse 
 
 By day, nor yet by night. 
 
 "Deal on, deal on, my merry men all, 
 Deal on your cake and your wine: 
 
 For whatever is dealt at her funeral to-day, 
 Shall be dealt to-n.orrow at mine." 
 
 Fair Marg'ret dyed to-day, to-day, 
 Sweet William dyed to-morrow: 
 
 Fair Marg'ret dyed for pure true love, 
 Sweet William dyed fur sorrow. 
 
 Marg'ret was buryed in the lower chancel, 
 
 And William in the higher: 
 Out of her breast there sprang a rose, 
 
 And out of his a briar. 
 
 They grew till they grew unto the church top, 
 And then they could giow no higher; 
 
 And there they tyed in a true loves' knot, 
 Which made all the 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 there. 
 
 MMIiam anl* JMwpiret 
 
 [" This ballad, which apreared in some of the 
 public newspapers in or before the year 1724, came 
 from the pen of David Mai.i.kt, who in the edi- 
 tion of his poems, 3 vols. 1759, informs us that 
 the plan was suggested by the stanza (quoted 
 in the introduction to the previous ballad, Fair 
 Margaret and Sweet William), which he suppos- 
 ed to be the beginning of some ballad now lost. 
 ' These lines,' says he, 'naked of ornament and 
 simple as they are, struck my fancy ; and bring- 
 ing fresh into my mind an unhappy adventure 
 much talked of formerly, gave birth to the fol- 
 lowing poem, which was written many years 
 ago.' The two introductory lines, and one or 
 two others elsewhere, had originally more of the 
 ballad simplicity, viz. 
 
 ' When all was wrapt in dark midnight, 
 And all were fast asleep,' Sc. 
 "In a publication entitled The Friends, &e. 
 Lond. 1773, 2 vols. 12mo, (in the first volume) is 
 inserted a copy of the ballad, with very great 
 variations, which the editor of that work con- 
 tends was the original ; and that Mallet adopted 
 it for his own, and altered it as here given. — 
 But the superior beauty and simplicity of the 
 present copy gives it so much more the air of an 
 original, that it will rather be believed that 
 some transcriber altered it from Mallet's, and 
 alapted the lines to his own taste; than which 
 nothing is more common in popular songs and 
 ballads."— Dr Percy. 
 | It was in the Plain Dealer, a periodical paper 
 published in 1724, that William and Margaret 
 first appeared. Mallet was then a very young 
 man, having b: en born about the beginning of 
 | the century. He died in 1705. He was a native 
 of Crieff in Perthshire, and for some time tutor in 
 the Montrose family, through whose influence he 
 first got introduced into public life. Mallnch was 
 his original name, but after he took up his resi- 
 dence in London, he changed it to Mullet, find- 
 ing probably the och too much for Cockney 
 utterance. William and Margaret has been ex- 
 

 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 79 
 
 
 travagantly praised by some. Even the caustic { 
 
 ^ " Bethink thee, William, of thy fault, 
 
 
 
 Kitson calls it one of the finest ballads that was 
 
 Thy pledge and broken oath: 
 
 
 
 ever written. On the other hand, Sir Walter 
 
 And give me back my maiden vow, 
 
 
 
 Scott says, *' The ballad, though the best of Mal- 
 
 And give me back my troth. 
 
 
 
 let's writing, is certainly inferior to its original, 
 
 
 
 
 which I presume to be the very fine and even 
 
 " Why did you promise love to me, 
 
 
 
 terrific old Scottish tale, beginning, 
 
 And not that promise keepr 1 
 
 
 
 ' There came a ghost to Margaret's door.' " 
 
 Why did you swear mine eyes were bright, 
 Yet leave those eyes to weep i 
 
 
 
 In the Harp of Renfrewshire, pp. 122-128, an 
 
 
 
 
 elaborate but unsuccessful attempt is made to 
 
 " How could you say my face was fair 
 
 
 
 deprive Mallet of the authorship of the ballad. 
 
 And yet that face forsake ? 
 
 
 
 In an edition, also, of Andrew MarvelPs Works, 
 
 How could you win my virgin heart, 
 
 
 
 London 1776, the editor claims the ballad for 
 
 Yet leave that heart to break ? 
 
 
 
 Marvell, on the ground of an old MS. volume, 
 
 
 
 
 in Marvell's own hand ; but Mr David Laing says 
 
 " Why did you say my lip was sweet, 
 
 
 
 the volume contains a number of piecesevidently 
 
 And made the scarlet pale ? 
 
 
 
 transcribed forty years subsequent to Marvell's 
 
 And why did I, young witless maid, 
 
 
 
 death.] 
 
 Believe the flattering tale ? 
 
 
 
 'Twas at the silent solemn hour, 
 
 " That face, alas ! no more is fair; 
 
 
 
 "When night and morning meet; 
 
 These lips no longer red . 
 
 
 
 In glided Margaret's grimly ghost, 
 
 Dark are my eyes, now clus'd in death, 
 
 
 
 And stood at William's feet. 
 
 And every charm is fled. 
 
 
 
 Her face wa3 like an April morn, 
 
 " The hungry worm my sister is ; 
 
 
 
 Clad in a wintry cloud : 
 
 This winding-sheet 1 wear: 
 
 
 
 And clay-cold was her lily hand, 
 
 And cold and weary lasts our night, 
 
 
 
 That held her sable shrowd. 
 
 Till that last morn appear. 
 
 
 
 So shall the fairest face appear, 
 
 "But hark ! the cock has warn'd me hence! 
 
 
 
 When youth and years are flown: 
 
 A long and last adieu '. 
 
 
 
 Such is the robe that kings must wear, 
 
 Come see, false man, how low she lies, 
 
 
 
 When death has reft their crown. 
 
 Who died for love of you." 
 
 
 
 Hei bloom was like the springing flower, 
 
 1 The lark sung loud ; the morning smil'd 
 
 
 
 That sips the silver dew ; 
 
 With beams of rosy red : 
 
 
 
 The rose was buddud in her check, 
 
 Pale William shook in ev'i y limb, 
 
 
 
 Just opening to the view. 
 
 And raving left his bed. 
 
 
 
 But love had, like the canker-worm, 
 
 He hied him to the fatal place 
 
 
 
 C'onsum'd her early prime: 
 
 Wheie Margaret's body lay: 
 
 
 
 The rose grew pale, and lelt her cheek ; 
 
 And stretch'd him on the grass-green turf, 
 
 
 
 She died before her time. 
 
 That wrapt her breathless clay ; 
 
 
 
 "Awake !' : she cried, "thy true love cans, 
 
 And thrice he call'd on Margaret's name, 
 
 
 
 Come from her midnight grave; 
 
 And thrice he wept full Sure: 
 
 
 
 Now let thy pity hear the maid 
 
 Then laid his cheek t>> her cold grave, 
 
 
 
 Thy love refused to save. 
 
 And word spake never more. 
 
 
 
 " This is the dark and dreary hour 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 When injur'd ghosts complain; 
 
 
 
 
 
 Now yawning graves give up their dead, 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 To haunt the faithless swain. i 
 
 \ 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 gO SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 (M " Get up," he cries, " my crieshy love, 
 
 
 
 
 Support my sinking saul 
 
 
 
 Wattg auto JMa^ge. 
 
 With something that is fit to chew, 
 Be't either het or caul. 
 
 
 
 [This parody on the foregoing ballad -we find 
 in the third volume of Bamsay's Tea Table Mis- 
 cellany. It is also given in Herd's Collection, 
 but has been little, if at all, quoted in later col- 
 
 " This is the how and hungry hour, 
 
 When the best cures for grief 
 Are cogue-fu's of the lythy kail. 
 
 
 
 And a good junt of beef." 
 
 
 
 lections, so that it must be new to most of our 
 
 
 
 
 readers. "We do not insert it here from any 
 admiration of its smartness, (though it is not 
 without merit,) but simply as illustrative of the 
 reputation of the ballad of William and Mar- 
 
 " Oh Watty, Watty," Madge replies, 
 
 " I but o'er justly trow'd 
 Your love was thowless, and that ye 
 
 For cake and pudding woo'd. 
 
 
 
 garet; for no better evidence of the popularity 
 of a piece can be adduced, than that it has been 
 made the subject of imitation or parody. In 
 the compass W 12 pages, beginning with Clerk 
 Saunders, p. 6J, and ending with the present 
 
 " Bethink thee, Watty, on that night, 
 
 When all were fast asleep, 
 How ye kiss'd me frae cheek to cheek, 
 
 
 
 Now leave these cheeks to dreep. 
 
 
 
 production, the reader has now before him a 
 collection of ballads all related more or less to 
 each other, and on which he i3 thus enabled to 
 form a judgment, as it were, at one view.] 
 
 *' How could ye ca' my hurdie3 fat, 
 And comfort of your sight. ■> 
 
 How could ye roose my dimpled hand, 
 Now all my dimples slight? 
 
 
 
 'Twas at the shining mid -day hour 
 
 " Why did you promise me a snood, 
 
 
 
 When all began to gaunt, 
 
 To bind my locks sae brown ? 
 
 
 
 That hunger rugg'd at Watty's breast, 
 
 Why did you me fine garters heght, 
 
 
 
 And the poor lad grew faint. 
 
 Yet let my hose fa' down ? 
 
 
 
 His face was like a bacon ham 
 
 " faithless Watty, think how aft 
 
 
 
 That lang in reek had hung, 
 
 I ment your sarks and hose ! 
 
 
 
 And horn-hard was his tawny hand 
 
 For you how mony bannocks stown, 
 
 
 
 That held his hazel-rung. j 
 
 How many cogues of brose. 
 
 
 
 So wad the saftest face appear 
 
 "But hark ! — the kail-bell rings, and I 
 
 
 
 Of the maist dressy spark, 
 
 Maun gae link aff the pot; 
 
 
 
 And such the hands that lords wad ha'e, 
 
 Come see, ye hash, how sair I sweat, 
 
 
 
 Were they kept close at wark. 
 
 To stegh your guts, ye sot." 
 
 
 
 His head was like a heathery bush 
 
 The grace was said, the master serv'd, 
 
 
 
 Beneath his bonnet blue, 
 
 Fat Madge return'd again, 
 
 
 
 On his braid checks, frae lug to lug, 
 
 Blythe Watty raise and rax'd himsel', 
 
 
 
 His bairdy bristles grew. 
 
 And fidg'd he was sae fain. 
 
 
 
 But hunger, like a gnawing worm, 
 
 ne hied him to the savcury bench, 
 
 
 
 Gade rumbling through his kyte, 
 
 Where a warm haggies stood, 
 
 
 
 And nothing now but solid gear 
 
 And gart his gooly through the bag, 
 
 
 
 Could give his heart delyte. 
 
 Let out its fat heart's bloocL 
 
 
 
 He to the kitchen ran with speed, 
 
 And thrice he cried, " Come eat, dear Madge, 
 
 
 
 To his loved Madge he ran, j 
 
 01 this delicious fare;" 
 
 
 
 Sunk down into the chimney-nook 
 
 Syne clawd it aff most cleverly, 
 
 
 
 With visage sour and wan. ^ 
 
 } Till he could eat nae mair. 
 
 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 81 
 
 [This most instructive ballad was first pub- 
 lished in Percy's collection, (1755,) fr m the old 
 folio MS. in the editor's possession, to which he 
 was so largely indebted in compiling his work, 
 and the existence of which Ritson continued to 
 doubt, notwithstanding the most satisfactory 
 evidence to the contrary, in the testimony of 
 many learned men who had seen and examined 
 it. The present copy is from the fifth edition of 
 the " Reliques," where the ancient readings are 
 restored. Bishop Percy says, " The original of 
 this ballad is f und in the editor's folio MS. the 
 breaches and defects in which render the inser- 
 tion of supplemental stanzas necessary. These 
 it is hoped the reader will pardon, as indeed the 
 completion of the story was suggested by a mo- 
 dern ballad on a similar subject. From the 
 Sci ttish phrases here and there discernible in 
 this poem, it should seem to have been original- 
 ly composed beyond the Tweed. The Heir of 
 Linne appears not to have been a lord of parlia- 
 ment, but a laird, whose title went along with 
 his estate." 
 
 Motherwell says, " The traditionary version 
 in Scotland begins thus : 
 
 " The bonnie heir, the weel-fanred heir, 
 
 And the weane heir o' Linne; 
 "louder he stand* at his father's gate, 
 
 And naebody bids him come in. 
 O, see where he stands, and see where he gangs, 
 
 The weary heir o' Linne; 
 O, see wheie lie stands on the cauld causey, 
 
 Some aue wald ta'en him in. 
 
 But if he had heen his father's heir, 
 
 Or yet the heir o' Linne, 
 He wadna stand on the cauld causey, 
 
 Some ane wad ta'en him in." 
 
 "We find in 
 version.] 
 
 i collection a continuation of this 
 
 Part the First. 
 Lithe and listen, gentlemen, 
 
 To sing a song I will beginne : 
 It is of a lord of (aire Scotland, 
 
 Which was the unthrifty heire of Linne. 
 
 His fathe- was a right good lord, 
 His mother a lady of high degree; 
 
 But they, alas ! were dead, him froc, 
 And he loved keeping companie. 
 
 To spend the daye with merry eheare, 
 To drinke and revell every night, 
 
 To card and dice from eve to morne, 
 It was, I ween, his heart's delighte. 
 
 To ride, to runne, to rant, to roare, 
 To always spend and never spare, 
 
 I wott, an' it were the king himselfe, 
 Of gold and fee he mote be bare. 
 
 Soe fares the unthrifty lord of Linne 
 Till all his gold is gone and spent; 
 
 And he maun sell his landes so broad, 
 His house, and landes, and all his rent. 
 
 His father had a keen stewarde, 
 
 And John o' the Scales was called hee: 
 
 But John is become a gentel-man, 
 
 And John has gott both gold and fee. 
 
 Sayes, ''Welcome, welcome, lord of Linne, 
 Let nought disturb thy merry cheere; 
 
 Iff thou wilt sell thy landes soe broad, 
 Good store of gold He give thee heere." 
 
 " My gold is gone, my money is spent; 
 
 My lande nowe take it unto thee: 
 Give me the golde, good John o' the Scales, 
 
 And thine for aye my lande shall bee." 
 
 Then John he did him to record draw, 
 And John he cast him agod's-pennie;* 
 
 But for every pounde that John agreed, 
 The lande, I wis, was well worth three 
 
 He told him the gold upon the borde, 
 He was right glad his land to winne; 
 
 " The gold is thine, the land is mine, 
 And now He be the lord of Linne." 
 
 Thus he hath sold his land soe broad, 
 
 Both kill and holt, and moore and fenne, 
 
 All but a poore and lonesome lodge, 
 That stood far off in a lonely glenne. 
 
 * i. e. earnest money ; from the French Denier 
 Dleu. At this day, when application is made 
 [ to the Dean and Chapter of Carlisle to accept 
 I an exchange of the tenant under one of their 
 I leases, a piece of silver is presented by the new 
 ■ tenant, which is still called a " God's-penny." 
 } Percy. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 82 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 For soe he to his father hight : #V 
 
 
 
 " My sonne, when I am gonne," sayd hee, 
 
 
 
 
 " Then thou wilt spend thy lande so broad, 
 
 Part the Second. 
 
 
 
 And thou wilt spend thy gold so free : 
 
 Away then hyed the heir of Linne 
 
 
 
 " But sweare me nowe upon the roode, 
 
 O'er hill and holt, and moor and fenno, 
 
 
 
 That lonesome lodge thou'lt never spend; 
 
 Until he came to lonesome lodge, 
 
 
 
 For when all the world doth frown on thee, 
 
 That stood so lowe in a lonely glenne. 
 
 
 
 Thou there shalt find a faithful friend." 
 
 He looked up, he looked downe, 
 
 
 
 The heir of Linne is full of golde: 
 
 In hope some comfort for to winne : 
 
 
 
 And "come with me, my friends," sayd hee, 
 
 But bare and lothly were the walles. 
 
 
 
 " Let's drinke, and rant, and merry make, 
 
 " Here's sorry cheare," quoth the heir of 
 
 
 
 And he that spares, ne'er mote he thee." 
 
 Linne. 
 
 
 
 They ranted, drank, and merry made, 
 
 The little windowe dim and darke 
 
 
 
 Till all his g"ld it waxed thinne; 
 
 Was hung with ivy, brere, and yewe; 
 
 
 
 And then his friendes they slunk away; 
 
 No shimmering sunn here ever shone; 
 
 
 
 They left the unthrifty heir of Linne. 
 
 No halesome breeze here ever blew. 
 
 
 
 He had never a penny left in his purse, 
 
 No chair, ne table he mote spye, 
 
 
 
 Never a penny left tut three, 
 
 No cheerful hearth, ne welcome bed, 
 
 
 
 And one was brass, another was lead, 
 
 Nought save a rope with renning noose, 
 
 
 
 And another it was white monie. 
 
 That dangling hung up o'er his head. 
 
 
 
 "Nowe well-a-day," sayd the heir of Linne, 
 
 And over it in broad letters, 
 
 
 
 " Nowe well-a-day, and woe is mee, 
 
 These words were written so plain to see : 
 
 
 
 For when I was the lord of Linne, 
 
 " Ah ! gracelesse wretch, hast spent thine all. 
 
 
 
 I never wanted gold nor fee. 
 
 And brought thyselfe to penurie ? 
 
 
 
 " But many a trustye friend have I, 
 
 "All this my boding mind misgave, 
 
 
 
 And why shold I feel dole or care ? 
 
 I therefore left this trusty friend : 
 
 
 
 He borrow of them all by turnes, 
 
 Let it now sheeld thy foule disgrace, 
 
 
 
 Soe need I not be never bare." 
 
 And all thy shame and sorrows end." 
 
 
 
 But one, I wis, was not at home; 
 
 Sorely shent wi' this rebuke, 
 
 
 
 Another had payd his gold away; 
 
 Sorely shent was the heir of Linne; 
 
 
 
 Another eall'd him thriftless loone, 
 
 His heart, I wis, was near to barst 
 
 
 
 And bade him sharpely wend his way. 
 
 With guilt and sorrowe, shame and sinne 
 
 
 
 "Now well-a-day," sayed the heir of Linne, 
 
 Never a word spake the heir of Linne, 
 
 
 
 " Now well-a-day, and woe is me ; 
 
 Never a word he spake but three 
 
 
 
 For when 1 had my landes so broad, 
 
 " This is a trusty friend indeed, 
 
 
 
 On me they lived right merrilee. 
 
 And is right welcome unto mee." 
 
 
 
 " To beg my bread from door to door 
 
 Then round his necke the corde he drewe. 
 
 
 
 I wis, it were a hrenning shame : 
 
 And sprang aloft with his bodie: 
 
 
 
 To rob and steal it were a sinne: 
 
 When lo ! the ceiling burst in twaine, 
 
 
 
 To work my limbs I cannot frame. 
 
 And to the ground came tumbling hee. 
 
 
 
 "Now He be away to my lonesome lodge, 
 
 1 Astonyed lay the heir of Linne, 
 
 
 
 For there my father bade me wend ; 
 
 Ne knewe if he were live or dead : 
 
 
 
 When all the world should frown on mee 
 
 1 At length he looked, and sawe a bille, 
 
 
 
 I there shold find a trusty friend." 
 
 & And in it a key of gold so redd. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 83 
 
 He took the bill, and lookt it on, 
 
 Strait good comfort found he there: 
 
 Itt told him of a hole in the wall, 
 
 In which there stood three chests in-fere.* 
 
 Two were full of the beaten golde, 
 The third was full of white money ; 
 
 And over them in broad letters 
 
 These words were written so plaine to see : 
 
 "Once more, my sonne, I sette thee clere; 
 
 Amend thy life and fellies past; 
 For but thou amend thee of thy life, 
 
 That rope must be thy end at last." 
 
 " And let it bee," sayd the heir of Linne ; 
 
 " And let it bee, but if I amend :f 
 For here I will make mine avow, 
 
 This reade i shall guide me to the end." 
 
 Away then went with a merry eheare, 
 Away then went the heir of Linne; 
 
 I wis, he neither ceas'd ne blanne, 
 
 Till John o' the Scales house he did winne. 
 
 And when be came to John o' the Scales, 
 TJpp at the speere§ then looked hee ; 
 
 There sat three lords upon a rowe, 
 Were drinking of the wine so free. 
 
 And John himself sate at the board -head, 
 Because now lord of Linne was hee. 
 
 "I pray thee," he said, "good John o" the 
 Scales, 
 " One forty pence for to lend mee." 
 
 " Away, away, thou thriftless loone ; 
 
 Away, away, this may not bee: 
 For Christ's curse on my head," he sayd, 
 
 " If ever I trust thee one pennie." 
 
 Then bespake the heir of Linne, 
 
 To John o' the Scales wife then spake he: 
 
 " Madame, some almes on me bestowe, 
 I pray for sweet saint Charitie." 
 
 * In-fere, i. e. together. 
 
 f I. e. unless I amend. + i. e. advice, counsel. 
 
 § Perhaps the hole in the door or window, by 
 which it was speered, i. e. sparred, fastened, or 
 shut.— In Bale's 2d Part of the Acts of Eng. 
 "Votaries, we have this phrase, (fol. 38.) " The 
 dare therqfqft tymes opened and speared agayne." 
 
 Percy. ^ 
 
 " Away, away, thou thriftless loone, 
 I swear th_ u gettest no almes of mee; 
 
 For if we sbold hang any losel heere, 
 The first we wold begin with thee." 
 
 Then bespake a good fellowe, 
 
 Which sat at J^hn o' the Scales his bord; 
 Sayd, " Turn againe, thou heir of Linne ; 
 
 Some time thou wast a well good lord : 
 
 " Some time a good fellow thou hast been, 
 And sparedst not thy gold and fee ; 
 
 Therefore lie lend thee forty pence, 
 And other forty if need bee. 
 
 " And ever, I pray thee, John o' the Scales, 
 To let him sit in thy companie. 
 
 For well I wot thou hadst his land, 
 And a good bargain it was to thee." 
 
 TJp then spake him John o* the Scales, 
 All wood he answer'd him againe : 
 
 " Now Christ's curse on my head," he sayd, 
 " But 1 did lose by that bargaine. 
 
 " And here I proffer thee, heir of Linne, 
 Before these lords so faire and free, 
 
 Thou shalt have it backe again better eheape, 
 By ahundred markes, than I had it of thee. 
 
 " I drawe you to record, lords," he said, 
 "With that he cast him a God's-; ennie : 
 
 " Now by my fay," said the heir of Linne, 
 " And here good John is thy monie." 
 
 And he pull'd forth three bagges of gold, 
 And Layd them down upon the bord : 
 
 All woe begone was John o' the Scales, 
 Soe shent he cold say never a word. 
 
 He told him forth the good red gold, 
 He told it forth with rr.icHe dinne. 
 
 " The gold is thine, the land is mine, 
 
 And now Ime againe the lord of Linne." 
 
 Saves, " Have thou here, thou good fellowe, 
 Forty pence thou di ist lend mee : 
 
 Now I am againe the lord of Linne, 
 And forty pounds I will give thee. 
 
 " He make thee keeper of my forest, 
 Both of the wild deere and the tame; 
 
 For but I reward thy bounteous heart, 
 1 wis, good feilowe, I were to blame." 
 

 
 g£ SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 
 " Now well-a-day !" sayth Joan o' the Scales : { 
 
 ^ ! there's mony a leaf in Athol wood, 
 
 
 
 " Now well-a-flay ! and woe is my life ! 
 
 An' mony a bird in its breast ; 
 
 
 
 Yesterday I was lady of Linne, 
 
 An' mony a 1 ain, maun the heart sustain, 
 
 
 
 Now Ime but John o' the Scales his wife." 
 
 Kre it sab itsel' to rest ! 
 
 
 
 " Now fare-thee well," sayd the heir of Linne ; 
 
 
 
 
 
 " Farewell now, John o' the Scales," said 
 
 
 
 
 hee: 
 "Christ's curse light on me, if ever again 
 
 'Wfyz ttoa §®,Mtyxi? Wfoofog. 
 
 
 
 I bring my lands in jeopardy." 
 
 [Written by Robert Ai.i-an of Kilbarchan, 
 in Renfrewshire, the author of a number of lyri- 
 
 
 
 
 cal pieces. In 1841, Robert Allan was induced 
 to emigrate to America, but was not many days 
 
 
 
 mw W00&. 
 
 landed at New York, when he was carried off 
 by a bilious fever, at the age of 67.] 
 
 
 
 [Modern Ballad.— Mrs Johnstone.— From 
 
 Sit down, sit down by thy martyr's side, 
 
 
 
 the novel of " Clan Albyn."] 
 
 And l'se sit down by mine ; 
 And 1 shall speak 0' him to my Gude, 
 
 
 
 I'm weary 0' your ha's, auld lord, 
 
 And thou may speak 0' thine. 
 
 
 
 I m weary 0' your towers, 
 
 
 
 
 The hours of grandeur unendear'd, 
 
 It's wae to thee, and it's wae wi' me. 
 
 
 
 but they're lanely hours. 
 
 For our day 0' peace is gane, 
 And we n;aun sit wi' a tearfu' e'e, 
 
 
 
 My fingers shine wi' mony a ring, 
 
 In our bouroch-ha' alane. 
 
 
 
 An' wi' jewels they deck my hair; 
 
 
 
 
 But the lichtsome glance 0' leal young love 
 
 Scotland ! Scotland, it's wae to thee, 
 
 
 
 Will never bliss me inair. 
 
 When thy lichts are ta'en awa' ; 
 And its wae, it's wae to a sinfu' Ian', 
 
 
 
 I mind thee still thou Athol wood, 
 
 When the richteous sae maun fa'. 
 
 
 
 And him on Lynedoch lea; 
 
 
 
 
 Wha pu'd my snood frae the scented birk, 
 
 It was a halie covenant aith 
 
 
 
 An' my beads frae the reddan tree. 
 
 We made wi' our Gude to keep ; 
 And it's for the halie covenant vow, 
 
 
 
 merrily sang the bonnie blackbird 
 
 That we maun sit and weep. 
 
 
 
 Aboon our hazel screen ; 
 
 
 
 
 An" ilka leaf was stirr'd wi' joy, 
 
 wha will gang to yon hill-side, 
 
 
 
 An' the blue lift danc'd between. 
 
 To sing the psalm at e'en ? 
 And wha will speak 0' the luve o' our Gude? 
 
 
 
 I mind thee still, thou fairy eve, 
 
 For the cov'nant reft hath been. 
 
 
 
 "Whan this flichterin' heart was tint, 
 
 
 
 
 An' how saft the sang 0' the mavis rang, 
 
 The gerse may grow on yon bonnie hill-tap. 
 
 
 
 Whan he tauld what its flichterin' meant. 
 
 And the heather sweetly blume; 
 But there nae mail- we sail sit at e'en. 
 
 
 
 A witless bride ye bocht, auld lord, 
 
 For our hearts are in the tomb. 
 
 
 
 An' he didna frown or fret; 
 
 
 
 
 But a breakin' heart was in his e'e, 
 
 The hectic glow is upo' my cheek, 
 
 
 
 An' that looks before me yet ! 
 
 And the lily hue on thine; 
 Thou sune will lie by thy martyr's side, 
 
 
 
 I'm lanely, lanely a' the day, 
 
 And sune I sail sleep by mine. 
 
 
 
 But the nicht is waur to bide, 
 
 
 
 
 For the dream that brings n.e Athol brae, 
 
 
 
 
 Wauks me by my auld lord's side ! i 
 
 f 
 
 
 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 85 
 
 ©j&rtetk'a Will 
 
 [This is a modern imitation of the ancient 
 ballads by Sib "Walter Scott. The author 
 thus introduces it in the Minstrelsy of the Scot- 
 tish Border. — In the reign of Charles I., when 
 the moss-trooping practices were not entirely 
 discontinued, the tower of Gilnockie, in the 
 parish of Cannoby, was occupied by William 
 Armstrong, called, for distinction sake, Christie's 
 Will, a lineal descendant of the famous John 
 Armstrong, of Gilnockie, executed by James V. 
 The hereditary love of plunder had descended to 
 this person with the family mansion; and, 
 upon some marauding party, he was seized, and 
 imprisoned in the tolbooth of Jedburgh. The 
 earl of Traquair, lord high treasurer, happening 
 to visit Jedburgh, and knowing Christie's Will, 
 inquired the cause of his confinement. Will re- 
 plied, he was imprisoned for stealing two tethers 
 (halters;) but, upon being more closely interro- 
 gated, acknowledged that there were two deli- 
 cate colts at the end of them. The joke, such as 
 it was, amused the earl, who exerted his interest, 
 and succeeded in releasing Christie's Will ftom 
 bondage. Some time afterwards, a law-suit, of 
 importance to lord Traquair, was to be decided 
 in the Court of Session; and there was every 
 reason to believe that the judgment would turn 
 upon the voice of the presiding judge, who had a 
 casting vote, in case of an equal division among 
 his brethren. The opinion of the president was 
 unfavourable to lord Traquair; and the point 
 was, therefore, to keep him out of the way, when 
 the question should be tried. In this dilemma, 
 the earl had recourse to Christie's Will, who, at 
 once, offered his service to kidnap the president. 
 Upon due scrutiny, he found it was the judge's 
 practice frequently to take the air, on horseback, 
 on the sands of Leith, without an attendant. In 
 one of these excursions, Christie's Will, who had 
 long watched his opportunity, ventured to accost 
 the president, and engaged him in conversation. 
 His address and language were so amusing, that 
 he decoyed the president into an unfrequented 
 and furze common, called the Frigate Whins, 
 where, riding suddenly up to him, he pulled him 
 from h* horse, muffled him in a large cloak, 
 which he had provided, and rode oft, with the 
 luckless judge trussed up behind him. Will 
 crossed the country with great expedition, by 
 
 ^ paths only known to persons of his description, 
 and deposited his weary and terrified burden in 
 an old castle, in Annandale, called the tower of 
 Graham. The judge's horse being found, it was 
 concluded he had thrown his rider into the sea; 
 his friends went into mourning, and a successor 
 was appointed to his office. Meanwhile, the 
 poor president spent a heavy time in the vault of 
 the castle. He was imprisoned and solitary ; re- 
 ceiving his food through an aperture in the wall, 
 and never hearing the sound of a human voice, 
 save when a shepherd called his dog, by the 
 name of Batty, and when a female dome'stic 
 called upon Maudge, the cat. These, he con- 
 cluded, were invocations of spirits ; for he held 
 himself to be in the dungeon of a sorcerer. At 
 length, after three months had elapsed, the law- 
 suit was decided in favour of lord Traquair; 
 and Will was directed to set the president at 
 liberty. Accordingly, he entered the vault, at 
 dead of night, seized the president, muffled him 
 once more in the cloak, without speaking a 
 single word, and, using the same mode of trans- 
 portation, conveyed him to Leith sands, and set 
 down the astonished judge on the very spot 
 where he had taken him up. The joy of his 
 friends, and the less agreeable surprise of his suc- 
 cesscr, may be easily conceived, when he appear- 
 ed in court, to reclaim his office and honours. 
 All embraced his own persuasion, that he had 
 been spirited away by witchcraft; nor could he 
 himself be convinced to the contrary, until, many 
 years afterwards, happening to travel in Annan- 
 dale, his ears were saluted, once more, with the 
 sounds of Maudge and Batty — the only notes 
 which had solaced his long confinement. This 
 led to a discovery of the whole story ; but, in 
 ! these disorderly times, it was only laughed at, as 
 a fair ruse de guerre. 
 
 Wild and strange as this tradition may seem, 
 there is little doubt of its foundation in fact. 
 The judge, upon whose person this extraordi- 
 nary stratagem was practised, was Sir Alexan- 
 der Gibson, lord Durie, collector of the reports, 
 well known in the Scottish law, under the title 
 of " Durie's Decisions." He was advanced to 
 the station of an ordinary lord of session, 10th 
 July 1621, and died, at his own house of Durie, 
 July 1646. Betwixt these periods this whimsical 
 adventure must have happened ; a date which 
 corresponds with that of the tradition. 
 
 " We may frame," says Forbes, "a rational 
 
 conjecture of his great learning and parts, not 
 
 SJ only from his collection of the decisions of th« 
 
8G 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 session, from July 1621, till July 1642, but also & 
 from the following circumstance: 1. In a tract 
 of more than twenty years, he was frequently 
 chosen vice-president, and no other lord in that 
 time. 2. 'Tis commonly reported, that some 
 party, in a considerable action before the session, 
 finding that the lord Durie could not be persuad- 
 ed to think his plea good, fell upon a stratagem 
 to prevent the influence and weight which his 
 lordship might have to his prejudice, bycausing 
 some strong masked men kidnap him, in the 
 links of Leith, at his diversion on a Saturday 
 afternoon, and transport him to some blind and 
 obscure room in the country, where he was de- 
 tained captive, without the benefit of day-light, 
 a matter of three months (though otherwise 
 civilly and well entertained;) during which 
 time his lady and children went in mourning for 
 him, as dead. But after the cause aforesaid was 
 decided, the lord Durie was carried back by in- 
 cognitos, and dropt in the same place where he 
 had been taken up." — Forbes's Journal of the 
 Session, Edin. 1714, preface, page 28. 
 
 Tradition ascribes to Christie's Will another 
 memorable feat, which seems worthy of being 
 recorded. It is well known, that, during the 
 troubles of Charles I., the earl of Traquair con- 
 tinued unalterably fixed in his attachment to his 
 unfortunate master, in whose service he hazard- 
 ed his person, and impoverished his estate. It 
 was of consequence, it is said, to the king's ser- 
 vice, that a certain packet, containing papers of 
 importance, should be transmitted to him from 
 Scotland. But the task was a difficult one, as 
 the parliamentary leaders used their utmost en- 
 deavours to prevent any communication betwixt 
 the king and his Scottish friends. Traquair, in 
 this strait, again had recourse to the services of 
 Christie's Will ; who undertook the commission, 
 conveyed the papers safely to his majesty, and 
 received an answer, to be delivered to lord Tra- 
 quair. But, in the meantime, his embassy had 
 taken air, and Cromwell had despatched orders 
 to intercept him at Carlisle. Christie's Will, 
 unconscious of his danger, halted in the town to 
 refresh his horse, and then pursue his journey. 
 But, as soon as he began to pass the long, high, 
 and narrow bridge, which crosses the Eden at 
 Carlisle, either end of the pass was occupied by a 
 party of parliamentary soldiers, who were lying 
 in wait for him. The borderer disdained to re- 
 sign his enterprise, even in these desperate cir- 
 cumstances; and at once forming his resolution, 
 spurred his horse over the parapet. The river y/j 
 
 was in high flood. Will sunk— the soldiers 
 shouted — he emerged again, and guiding his 
 horse to a steep bank, called the Stanners, or 
 Stanhouse, endeavoured to land, but ineffec- 
 tually, owing to his heavy horseman's cloak, 
 now drenched in water. Will cut the loop, and 
 the horse, feeling himself disembarrassed, made 
 a desperate exertion, and succeeded in gaining 
 the bank. Our hero set off, at full speed, pur- 
 sued by the troopers, who had for a time stood 
 motionless and in astonishment at his temerity. 
 Will, however, was well mounted; and, having 
 got the start, he kept it, menacing, with his 
 pistols, any pursuer who seemed likely to gain on 
 him — an artifice which succeeded, although the 
 arms were wet and useless. He was chased to 
 the river Eske, which he swam without hesita- 
 tion ; and, finding himself on Scottish ground, 
 and in the neighbourhood of his friends, he 
 turned on the northern bank, and, in the true 
 spirit of a border rider, invited his followers to 
 come through, and drink with him. After this 
 taunt, he proceeded on his journey, and faith- 
 fully accomplished his mission. Such were the 
 exploits of the very last border freebooter of any 
 note. 
 
 The reader is not to regard the ballad as of 
 genuine and unmixed antiquity, though some 
 stanzas are current upon the border, in a cor- 
 rupted state. They have been eked and joined 
 together, in the rude and ludicrous manner of 
 the original ; but as it is to be considered as a 
 modern ballad, it is transferred to this depart- 
 ment of the work.— Minstrelsy of the Scottish 
 Border, Vol. III.] 
 
 Traquair has ridden up Chapelhope, 
 
 And sae has he down by the Gray Mare's 
 Tail;* 
 
 He never stinted the light gallop, 
 Until he speer'd for Christie's Wjll. 
 
 Now Christie's Will peep'd frae the tower, 
 And out at the shot-hole keeked he ; 
 
 " And ever unlucky," quo' he, " is the hour, 
 That the warden comes to speer for me !" 
 
 "Good Christie's Will, now, have na fear! 
 
 Nae harm, good Will, shall hap to thee : 
 I saved thy life at the Jeddart air, 
 
 At the Jeddart air frae the justice tree. 
 
 * Gray Mare's Tail — A cataract above Moffat, 
 so called. 
 

 
 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 87 
 
 
 "Bethink how ye sware by the salt and the & " The fairest lady in Teviotdale 
 
 
 
 bread, 
 
 Has sent, maist reverent sir, for thee; 
 
 
 
 By the lightning, the wind, and the rain. 
 
 She pleas at the session for her land, a' haill, 
 
 
 
 That if ever of Christie's Will I bad need, 
 
 And fain she wad plead her cause to thee." 
 
 
 
 He would pay me my service again." 
 
 " But how can I to that lady ride, 
 
 
 
 " Gramercy, my lord," quoth Christie's "Will, 
 
 With saving of my dignitie?" 
 
 
 
 " Gramercy, my lord, for your grace to me : 
 
 " a curch and mantle ye may wear, 
 
 
 
 When I turn my cheek, and claw my neck, 
 
 And in my cloak ye shall muffled be." 
 
 
 
 I think of Traquair, and the Jeddart tree." 
 
 Wi' curch on head, and cloak ower face, 
 
 
 
 And he has opened the fair tower yate, 
 
 He mounted the judge on a palfrey fyne; 
 
 
 
 To Traquair and a' his companie; 
 
 He rode away, a right round pace, 
 
 
 
 The spule o' the deer on the board he has set, 
 
 And Christie's Will held the bridle reyn. 
 
 
 
 The fattest that ran on the Hutton Lee. 
 
 The Lothian Edge they were not o'er, 
 
 
 
 " Now wherefore sit ye sad, my lord ? 
 
 When they heard bugles bauldly ring, 
 
 
 
 And wherefore sit ye mournfullie ? 
 
 And, hunting over Middleton Moor, 
 
 
 
 And why eat ye not of the venison I shot, 
 
 They met, I ween, our noble king. 
 
 
 
 At the dead of night on Hutton Lee ?" 
 
 When Willie look'd upon our king, 
 
 
 
 " O weel may I stint of feast and sport, 
 
 I wot a frighted man was he ! 
 
 
 
 And in my mind be vexed sair ! 
 
 But ever auld Durie was startled mair, 
 
 
 
 A vote of the canker'd Session Court, 
 
 For tyning of his dignitie. 
 
 
 
 Of land and living will make me bare. 
 
 The king he cross'd himself, I wis, 
 
 
 
 " But if auld Durie to heaven were flown, 
 
 When as the pair came riding bye — 
 
 
 
 Or if auld Durie to hell were gane, 
 
 " An uglier crone, and a sturdier lown, 
 
 
 
 Or ... if he could be but ten days stoun .... 
 
 I think, were never seen with eye!" 
 
 
 
 My bonnie braid lands would still be my 
 
 Willie has hied to the tower of Graeme, 
 He took auld Durie on his back, 
 
 
 
 " mony a time, my lord," he said, i 
 
 He shot him down to the dungeon deep, 
 
 
 
 "I'vestown the horse frae the sleeping loun; 
 
 Which garr'd his auld banes gi'e mony a 
 
 
 
 But for you I'll steal a beast as braid, 
 
 crack. 
 
 
 
 For I'll steal lord Durie frae Edinburgh | 
 
 
 
 
 town. 
 
 For nineteen days, and nineteen nights, 
 Of sun, or moon, or midnight stern, 
 
 
 
 "0 mony a time, my lord," he said, 
 
 Auld Durie never saw a blink, 
 
 
 
 " Iv'e stown a kiss frae a sleeping wench ; 
 
 The lodging was sae dark and dern. 
 
 
 
 But for you I'll do as kittle a deed, 
 
 
 
 
 For I'll steal an auld lurdane aff the 
 
 He thought the warlocks o' the rosy cross* 
 
 
 
 bench." 
 And Christie's Will is to Edinburgh gane; 
 
 Had fang'd him in their nets sae fast; 
 
 
 
 
 At the Borough Muir then entered he ; 
 
 * " As for the rencounter betwixt Mr Wil- 
 
 
 
 And as he pass d the gallow-stane, 
 
 liamson, schoolmaster at Cowper (who has 
 
 
 
 He cross'd his brow, and he bent his knee. 
 
 wrote a grammar,) and the Rosicrucians, 1 never 
 trusted it, till I heard it from his own son, 
 
 
 
 He lighted at lord Durie's door, 
 
 that a stranger came to Cowper and called 
 
 
 
 And there he knocked most manfullie; 
 
 who is present minister of Kirkaldy. He tells, 
 
 
 
 And up and spake lord Durie sae stour, 
 
 for him: after they had drank a little, and the 
 
 
 
 " What tidings, thou stalward groom, to 
 
 reckoning came to be paid, he whistled for 
 
 
 
 me?" ^j 
 
 ispirits; one, in the shape of a boy, came and 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
88 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 Or that the gypsies' glamour'd gang* 
 Had lair'd his learning at the last. 
 
 gave him gold in abundance; no servant was 
 seen riding with him to the town, nor enter with 
 him into the inn. He caused his spirits, against 
 next day, bring him noble Greek wine, from the 
 Pope's cellar, and tell the freshest news then at 
 Rome; then trysted Mr Williamson at London, 
 who met the same man, in a coach, near to Lon- 
 don bridge, and who called on him by his name; 
 he marvelled to see any know him there ; at last 
 he found it was his Rosicrucian. He pointed to 
 a tavern, and desired Mr Williamson to do him 
 the favour to dine with him at that house; 
 whether he came at twelve o'clock, and found 
 him, and many others of good fashion there, and 
 a most splendid and magnificent table, furnished 
 with all the varieties of delicate meats, where 
 they are all served by spirits. At dinner, they 
 debated upon the excellency of being attended by 
 spirits; and, after dinner, they proposed to him 
 to assume him into their society, and make him 
 participant of their happy life; but, among the 
 other conditions and qualifications requisite, this 
 w<.s one, that they demanded his abstracting his 
 spirit from all materiality, and renouncing his 
 baptismal engagements. Being amazed at this 
 proposal, he falls a praying ; whereat they all 
 disappear, and leave him alone. Then he began 
 to forethink what would become of him, if he 
 were left to pay that vast reckoning ; not having 
 as much on him as would defray it. He calls the 
 boy, and asks, what was become of these gentle- 
 men, and what was to pay ? He answered, there 
 was nothing to pay, for they had done it, and 
 were gone about their affairs in the city." — 
 Fountainhall's Decisions, Vol. I. p. 15. With 
 great deference to the learned reporter, this 
 story has all the appearance of a joke upon the 
 poor schoolmaster, calculated at once to operate 
 upon his credulity, and upon his fears of beiDg | 
 left in pawn for the reckoning. — Scott. 
 
 * Besides the prophetic powers, ascribed to the 
 gypsies in most European countries, the Scottish 
 peasants believe them possessed of the power of 
 throwing upon by-standers a spell, to fascinate 
 their eyes, and cause them to see the thing that 
 is not. Thus,.in the old ballad of Johnnie Faa, 
 the elopement of the countess of Cassillis, with a 
 gypsey leader, is imputed to fascination : 
 As sune as they saw her weel-far'd face, 
 They cast their gKmour ower her. 
 
 Saxo Grammaticus mentions a particular sect of' 
 
 " Hey ! Batty, lad ! far yaud ! far yaud !"f 
 These were the morning sounds heard he; 
 
 And ever " Alack!" auld Durie cried, 
 " The deil is hounding his tykes on me !" 
 
 Mathematicians, as he is pleased to call them, 
 who "per summam ludificandorum oculorum 
 peritiam, proprios alienosque vultus, variis re- 
 rum imaginibus, adumbrare callebant; illicibus- 
 que formis veros obscurare conspectus." Mtrlin, 
 the son of Ambrose, was particularly skilled in 
 this art, and displays it often in the old metrical 
 romance of Arthour and Merlin. 
 
 The jongleur* were also great professors of 
 this mystery, which has in some degree de- 
 scended, with their name, on the modern jug- 
 glers. But durst Breslaw, the Sieur Boaz, or 
 KatterfJto himself, have encountered, in a 
 magical sleight, the tragctoums of father Chau- 
 cer? — See the Frankeleene's Tale in Chaucer. 
 
 Our modern professors of the magic natural 
 would likewise have been sorely put down by the 
 Jogulours and Enchantours of the Grete Chan ; 
 " for they maken to come in the air the sone 
 and the mone, beseminge to every mannes sight ; 
 and aftre, they maken the nyght so darke, that 
 no man may se no thing; and aftre, they maken 
 the day to come agen, fair and pltsant, with 
 bright sone to every mannes sight; and than, 
 they bringin in daunces of the fairest damysellcs 
 of the world, and richest arrayed ; and after, 
 they maken to comen in other damyselles, bring- 
 ing coupes of gold, fulle of mylke of divers • 
 bestes; and geven drinke tolordesand toladyes ; 
 and than they maken knyghtes to justen in 
 armies fulle lustyly ; and they rennen togidre a 
 gret randoun, and they frusschen togidre full 
 fiercely, and they broken ther speres so rudely, 
 that the trenchounsflen in sprotis and pieces alle 
 about the halle ; and than they make to come in 
 hunting for the hert and for the boor, with 
 houndes renning with open mouthe : and many- 
 other things they dow of her enchantements, 
 that it is marveyle for to se." — Sir John Mande- 
 ville's Travels, p. 285. I question much, also, if 
 the most artful illuminatis of Germany could 
 have matched the prodigies exhibited by Pacolet 
 and Adramain, recorded in L'Historie des Va- 
 lentin et Orson, a Rouen, 1631. The receipt.to 
 prevent the operation of these deceptions, was, 
 
 f Far yaud — The signal made by a shepherd to 
 his dog, when he is to drive away some sheep at 
 a distance. From Yoden, to. An. Sax. — Scott. 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 SO 
 
 And whiles a voice on Baudrons cried, < 
 
 With sound uncouth, and sharp and hie; 
 
 "I have tar-barrell'd mony a witch,* 
 
 But now, 1 think, they'll clear scores wi' 
 
 The king has caused a bill be wrote, 
 And he has set it on the Tron, — 
 
 "" He that will bring lord Durie back, 
 
 Shall have five hundred marks and one." 
 
 Traquair has written a private letter, 
 And he has seal'd it wi' his seal, — 
 
 " Te may let the au!d brock out o' the poke ; 
 The land's my ain, and a's gane weeL" 
 
 O Will has mounted his bonnie black, 
 And to the tower of G-raeme did trudge, 
 
 And once again, on his sturdy back, 
 Has he hente up the weary judge. 
 
 He brought him to the council stairs, 
 And there full loudly shouted he, 
 
 " Gi'e me my guerdon, my sovereign liege, 
 And take ye back your auld Durie !" 
 
 to use a sprig of four-leaved clover. I remember 
 to have heard (certainly very long ago, for, at 
 that time, I believed the legend,) that a gypsey 
 exercised his glamour over a number of people at 
 Haddington, to whom he exhibited a common 
 dung hill cock, trailing, what appeared to the 
 spectators, a massy oaken trunk. An old n an 
 passed with a cart of clover; he stopped, and 
 picked cut a four-leaved blade; the eyes of the 
 spectators were opened, and the oaken trunk 
 appeared to be a bulrush. — Scott. 
 
 * Human nature shrinks from the brutal 
 scenes produced by the belief in witchcraft. 
 Under the idea, that the devil imprinted upon 
 the body of his miserable vassals a mark, which 
 was insensible to pain, persons were employed to 
 run needles into the bodies of the old women 
 who were suspected of witchcraft. In the dawn- 
 ing of common sense upon this subject, a com- 
 plaint was made before the Privy Council of 
 Scotland, 11th September, 167S, by Catherine 
 Liddell, a poor woman, against the baron-bailie 
 of Preston -Grange, and David Cowan (a po- 
 fessed pricker,) for having imprisoned, and most 
 cruelly tortured her. They answered, 1st, She 
 was searched by her own consent, et volenti non 
 Jit injuria : 2d, The pricker had learned his trade 
 from Kincaid, a famed pricker; 3d, He never 
 
 W^z JEaMw of OTeeim>$. 
 
 [Modern Ballad. — Wst. Motherwell.] 
 
 The Master of Weemyss has biggit a ship, 
 
 To saile upon the sea; 
 And four-and-twenty bauld marineres, 
 
 Doe beare him companie. 
 
 They have hoistit sayle and left the land, 
 
 They have saylit mylis three ; 
 When up there lap the bonnie mermayd, 
 
 All in the Norland sea. 
 
 " whare saile ye," quo' the bonnie 
 
 " Upon the saut sea faem ?•• 
 " It's we are bounde until Norroway, 
 
 God send us skaithless hame '." 
 
 " Oh Norroway is a gay gay strande, 
 
 And a merrie land I trowe ; 
 But nevir nane sail see Norroway 
 
 Gin the mermaid keeps her vowe !*■ 
 
 Down doukit then, the mermayden, 
 
 Deep intil the middil sea ; 
 And merrie leuch that master bauld, 
 
 With his jollie companie. 
 
 They saylit awa', and they saylit awa', 
 
 They have saylit leagues ten ; 
 When lo ! uplap by the gude ship's side 
 
 The self-same mermayden. 
 
 acted., but when called upon by magistrates or 
 clergymen, so what he did was auctore prcetore, 
 4th, His trade was lawful ; 5th, Perkins, Delrio, 
 and all divines and lawyers, who treat of witch- 
 craft, assert the existence of the marks, or stig- 
 mata sagarum ; and, 6thly, Were it otherwise, 
 Error communis facit jus. — Answered, 1st, De- 
 nies consent; 2d, Nobody can validly consent to 
 their own torture; for, Nemo est dominus mem- 
 brnrum tvorum ; 3d, The pricker was a common 
 cheat. The last arguments prevailed ; and it was 
 found, that inferior "judges might not use any 
 torture, by pricking, or by withholding them from 
 sleep;" the council reserving a.l that to them- 
 selves, the justices, and those acting by commis- 
 sion from them. But lord Durie, a lord of ses- 
 sion, could have no share in such inflictions. 
 
 Scott. 
 
90 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 Shee held a glass intil her richt hande, < 
 
 In the uthir shee held a kame, 
 And shee kembit her haire, and aye she sang 
 
 As shee flotterit on the faem. 
 
 And shee gliskit round and round about, 
 
 Upon the waters wan ; 
 O nevir againe on land or sea 
 
 Shall be seen sik a faire woman. 
 
 And shee shed her haire off her milk-white bree 
 Wi' her fingers sae sma' and lang ; 
 
 And fast as saylit that gude ship on, 
 Sae louder was aye her sang. 
 
 And aye shee sang, and aye shee sang 
 
 As shee rade upon the sea; 
 " If ye bee men of Christian moulde 
 
 Throwe the master out to mee. 
 
 " Throwe out to mee the master bauld 
 
 If ye bee Christian men; 
 But an ye faile, though fast ye sayle 
 
 Ye'll nevir see land agen ! 
 
 " Sayle on, sayle on, sayle on," said shee, 
 
 " Sayle on and nevir blinne, 
 The winde at will your saylis may fill, 
 
 But the land ye shall never win!" 
 
 Its never word spak' that master bauld, 
 But a loud laugh leueh the crewe ; 
 
 And in the deep then the mermayden 
 Doun drappit frae their viewe. 
 
 But ilk ane kythit her bonnie face, 
 
 How dark dark grew its lire ; 
 And ilk ane saw her bricht bricht eyne 
 
 Leming like coals o' fire. 
 
 And ilk ane saw her lang bricht hair 
 
 Gae flashing through the tide, 
 And the sparkles o' the glass shee brake 
 
 Upon that gude ship's side. 
 
 " Steer on, steer on, thou master bauld, 
 
 The wind blaws unco hie;" 
 " O there's not a sterne in a' the lift 
 
 To guide us through the sea!" 
 
 " Steer on, steer on, thou master bauld, 
 
 The storm is coming fast;" 
 " Then up, then up my bonnie boy 
 
 Unto the topmost mast. 
 
 " Creep up into the tallest rrast, 
 
 Gae up my ae best man ; 
 Climb up until the tall top-mast 
 
 And spy gin ye see land." 
 
 " Oh all is mirk towards the eist, 
 
 And all is mirk be west ; 
 Alas there is not a spot of light 
 
 Where any eye can rest !" 
 
 " Looke oute, looke oute my bauldest man, 
 
 Looke oute unto the storme, 
 And if ye cannot get sicht o' land, 
 
 Do you see the dawin o' morn ?'* 
 
 " Oh alace, alace my master deare," 
 
 Spak' then that ae best man ; 
 " Nor licht, nor land, nor living thing, 
 
 Do I spy on any hand." 
 
 " Looke yet agen, my ae best man, 
 
 And tell me what ye do see :" 
 " O Lord ! I spy the false mermayden 
 
 Fast sayling out owre the sea I" 
 
 " How can ye spy the fause mermayden 
 
 Fast sayling on the mirk sea, 
 For there's neither mune nor mornin' licht— 
 
 In troth it can nevir bee." 
 
 " O there is neither mune nor mornin' licht, 
 
 Nor ae star's blink on the sea; 
 But as I am a Christian man, 
 
 That witch woman 1 see ! 
 
 " Good Lord ! there is a scaud o' fire 
 
 Fast coming out owre the sea ; 
 And fast therein the grim mermayden 
 
 Is sayling on to thee ! 
 
 " Shee hailes our ship wi' a shrill shrill cry — 
 Shee is coming, alace, more near:" 
 
 "Ah woe is me now," said the master bauld, 
 " For I both do see and hear ! 
 
 " Come doun, come doun my ae best man, 
 
 For an ill weird I maun drie ; 
 Vet, I reck not for my sinful self, 
 
 But thou my trew companie !" 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 91 
 
 UPb* 0L&xmxibm d ©Igto*. 
 
 [From the Edinburgh Magazine for May, 1820. 
 " The Carlin-stane is a huge rock standing in the 
 middle of the river Clyde, about half a mile 
 below the Stonebyres-lin. It has ever been re- 
 puted a favourite haunt of mermen and mer- 
 maids. The Gaun Weel is a deep whirlpool at 
 a little distance from the Carlin stane, concern- 
 ing which many strange stories are told. In 
 former times it was the chosen horvf of a most 
 malevolent water kelpie, who dragged many a 
 youth to the bottom when bathing, till at length 
 a sturdy peasant called Aiken Kent, from a 
 huge oaken club which he always carried, re- 
 solved to encounter this dreadful fiend. He 
 went one summer evening to the Clyde, tirlit aff 
 his claes, as the country narrators express it, 
 grippit his aiken kent an' ploungit into the 
 "Weel. He swam round and round, dived to the 
 bottom, but the kelpie, wha, it seems, was awar 
 o' the character o' the duuker, was nae whar to 
 be seen. Fatigued at length, Aiken Kent cam' 
 out o' the water, pat on himsel' an' sat doun to 
 rest, when he fell soun' asleep. He was suddenly 
 wakenit by something pu'-pu'an' at his kent, 
 which he had laid aneth his head, an' liftan' 
 his een saw through the gloamin' an austrous 
 appearance clad in mist, with a grousome beard 
 bristling about his mou', an' his twa een shinin' 
 with a dowie streamerlike licht. Richtlie judg- 
 ing this to be the kelpie, Aiken Kent bangit fell 
 upon the puir fiend wi' his club in sic a fury, that 
 he sunne garit him cry out, 
 
 'O Aiken Kent ha'e dune, 
 
 I'll never mail- come here, 
 Ye may dr.uk yoursel' baith late an' sune, 
 An' o' Kelpie ha'e nae lear.' 
 
 Ever since the Gaun "Weel, except that it is 
 dangerous to inexperienced bathers from its 
 depth and swirling, is as safe as any other pool 
 in Clyde."] 
 
 The marmaid sat on the Carlin-stane, 
 
 A caiman her yellow hair, 
 Was never maid in braid Clydesdale 
 
 "Was ever half sae fair. 
 
 She caim't it up, an' she caim't it doun, 
 
 An' she caim't it to her knee ; 
 An' she snudit it roun' her haffits white, 
 
 An' curl't it ower her eebree. '< 
 
 • An' the marmaid's goun was green as grass, 
 
 In the cauld wall-ee that grows ; 
 An' the croun on her brow was the sunny rain- 
 
 Ower Stanebyres lin that glows. [bow, 
 
 The marmaid sat on the Carlin-stane, 
 
 Sae sweetly as she sang, 
 While through aiken wud an' birken shaw 
 
 The winsome echos rang. 
 
 sweetly sings the mavis mild, 
 
 An' the merl on the thorn ; 
 Mare sweetly still the laverock sings, 
 
 Abune the e'e o' morn. 
 
 The lintie's blythe on the gowden whin, 
 
 An' the gowdspink on the spray ; 
 But blyther far was the marmaids sang, 
 
 Aichan frae bank to brae. 
 
 " My father is lord o' bonnie Clyde, 
 
 And o' craigie Avon's shaws, 
 An' my mither is lady o' Nethan water, 
 
 An' wons in Craignethan ha's. 
 
 " And I clad mysel' in the cramesie, 
 
 But an' the silken pall ; 
 And 1 was serv'd by seven maidens, 
 
 Whane'er I sat in hall. 
 
 " The buck and doe, the hart and roe, 
 
 "We huntit ower the lea, 
 An' the gows-hawks flew wi' the mornin' dew, 
 
 Whill the day had closed his e'e, 
 
 " O fleetly ran the coal-black steeds, 
 
 Mare fleetly the steeds o' snaw ; 
 But the dappl'd gray on whilk I rade, 
 
 Had the heels afore them a'. 
 
 " We huntit the stag o'er the Hawkshaw bills, 
 
 And doun to the Carlin-stane, 
 While sare forridden my merry menyie, 
 
 Left me my livan' lane. 
 
 " The bulleran' waves o' bludie Clyde, 
 
 Swash't by wi' rowt and rair, 
 An' the mune rase din through the misto' the lin 
 
 Wi' cauld and eerie glare. 
 
 " Ower wud an' wauld, the rowkis cauld, 
 
 Spread like a siller sea ; 
 While a fairy inch seem't the lady's aik, 
 
 Sae lanely still an' wee. 
 
<.)2 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 " Auld Carnie castle ower the rowk, 
 
 Raise like a giant grim ; 
 An' the wilcat yowl't through its dowie vowts, 
 
 Sae gowstie, howch, and dim. 
 
 " The houlet hou't through the riftit rock, 
 
 The tod yowl't on the hill; 
 Whan an eldritch whish souch't through the lift, 
 
 And a' fell deadly still. 
 
 " The trauchl't stag i' the wan waves lap, 
 
 But huliness or hune, 
 While in mony a row, wi' jaup an' jow, 
 
 They shimmert in the mune. 
 
 " An' sare he focht, an' sare he swam, 
 Whill he wan to the Carlin-stane; 
 
 Whar he streek't himsel' i' the patients o' dead, 
 Wi' mony a waesome main. 
 
 " I spurr'd my steed to tak' the flude, 
 
 My steed he wadna steer, 
 But stude an' swat frae head to hufe, 
 
 We dredder an' wi' fear. 
 
 " I flang the renyie on his neck, 
 
 With a wiss that souldnae been, 
 An' lap i' the pule frae my saddle-seat, 
 
 Owercome wi' spite an' teen. 
 
 " The water hadnae wat my fit, 
 
 Nor yet my siller shune ; 
 Whill an inky clud fell doun on the wud, 
 
 An' blotted out the n.une. 
 
 " I saw nae mare, for a' the air 
 
 Grew black as black could be ; 
 An' bonnie Clyde, with its hills an' howns, 
 
 Was tint afore mine e'e. 
 
 " I' the mirk in a stound, wi' rairan' sound, 
 
 A spait the river rase, 
 An' wi' swash an' swow, the angry jow, 
 
 Cam' lashan' doun the braes. 
 
 " I luikit richt, I luikit left, 
 
 But a' was black as nicht; 
 I luikit to the heavens hee, 
 
 But no ae spark o' licht. 
 
 " In a widdendreme, the thunder-leem 
 
 Shot ewer me blae as lead, 
 An' shaw't the black waves coman' rowan 
 
 Abreast, abune my head. [down, 
 
 " I tirn't me richt, I tirn't me left, 
 
 The craigs war in a low ; 
 I tirn't me roun' the river doun, 
 
 Saw nocht but an ugsome how. 
 
 " A blent o' fire soup't athort the flude, 
 
 And ower the Carlin-stane ; 
 In a sudden tie, on the hrie-flaucht, 
 
 The stately stag is gane. 
 
 " A stately stag— i' the spait he sank, 
 
 A stalwart wicht he rase ; 
 He wav'd his han' — the lichtenins blan — 
 
 An' blackness cur't the braes. 
 
 " A' was dead-lown, whan in a stoun', 
 
 A whirlwind fell frae the air, 
 And hou't through the wuds, and cloven craigs, 
 
 Wi' weary waesume rair. 
 
 " The knarlie aiks of a hunder years 
 
 Cam' doupan to the grun", 
 While the brainches an' beuchs o' frusher trees 
 
 War scatter'd on the win'. 
 
 " Nae lichtenin' gleam't out through the mirk, 
 Nor was heard the thunder's rair, 
 
 But a leadlike low spread ower the craigs 
 Wi' dull and dowie glare. 
 
 "The mirk cam' in gliffs— in gliffs the miikgade, 
 While 1 saw frae the craigs an' caves, 
 
 Wi' mop an' mowr, an' glare an' glowr, 
 Grim faces grin ower the waves. 
 
 "I say't to flee, but couldnae steer 
 Frae the stanners wharon I stude; 
 
 Whan the stalwart gome strade ower the spait 
 An' clasp'd me in the flude. 
 
 " Wi' sweep an' sweel, in the black Gaun Weel, 
 We ploung't i' the wan.soch wave; 
 
 An' held our way, 'neth rock an' brae, 
 Till we cam' till an ugsome cave. 
 
 " A grousome droich at the benner en' 
 
 Sat on a bink o' stane, 
 And a dowie sheen frae his austrous een 
 
 Ga'e licht to the dismal wane. 
 
 " The dead blue licht skim't alang the black 
 Whar draps hang raw on raw, [rufe. 
 
 An' twinkl't in the damp broun air, 
 Whan pinkan' thay can fa'. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 93 
 
 
 "The water-asks, sae cauld and saft, % " ' I big my halls o* the crystal clear, 
 
 
 
 Crawl 'd ower the glittie flure, 
 
 And the rufe o' the gowden mine ; 
 
 
 
 And a monstrous eel, wi' twist and tweel, 
 
 The stateliest courts o' the richest roys 
 
 
 
 The gapan' entrance wure; 
 
 Are nocht compar'd to mine. 
 
 
 
 "'An' tak' my bride, my bonnie bonnie bride/ 
 
 " ' The cowd'an' bells on the weelan' flude 
 
 
 
 To the dwerch the witch can say, 
 
 Are the ships whilk we sail in, 
 
 
 
 ■ An' wash awa' the changefu' life 
 
 Alike scartfree on the pule are we, 
 
 
 
 That lives in upper day ; 
 
 And in the swechan' lin. 
 
 
 
 " ' And dip her first in the STorroway sea, 
 
 " ' We beek oursells on the faimie heaps, 
 
 
 
 She's mine for evermare ; 
 
 W han simmer suns are breem, 
 
 
 
 And dip her syne in the lammer-wine, 
 
 Whan the year grown auld brings winter cauld 
 
 
 
 Alike then sea and air; 
 
 We flee till our ha's sae queem. 
 
 
 
 " ' A nd dip her last in Tinto dew 
 
 " ' A hunder knichts at my behecht, 
 
 
 
 That fell on Beltan-day, 
 
 The waters maun obey, 
 
 
 
 Whan a thousand years are come an' gane 
 
 An' twice twae hunder maries free 
 
 
 
 She'll be my bonnie May.* 
 
 Sail serve my winsome may. 
 
 
 
 "Like clattie fins war the dwerch's twae 
 
 " ' There's no ae burn in braid Clydesdale 
 
 
 
 arms — 
 
 But wimples at my will, 
 
 
 
 He laid them on my head, 
 
 Nor a scridden broun that but my leave 
 
 
 
 The licht forhou't my wauland een, 
 
 Comes tumbling doun the hill. 
 
 
 
 My brow grew cauld as lead. 
 
 " ' Whan comes the landlash wi' rair an' swash, 
 
 
 
 ■ A seikenan' grou cam' ower my heart, 
 
 I cowd on the rowan' spait, 
 
 
 
 1 swarf't amang his hands, 
 
 And airt its way by bank an' brae 
 
 
 
 An' feelless lay, while the laidlie droich 
 
 Fulfillan' my luve or hate. 
 
 
 
 Perform'd his lord's commands. 
 
 " ' The thochtless wicht wha scorns our micht, 
 
 
 
 " I swarf't in the mirk wi* dule and pine ; 
 
 I visit in that hour, 
 
 
 
 I cam' to mysel' i' the licht; 
 
 But the man I save frae the raging grave, 
 
 
 
 I swarf't in wae, a mortal may 
 
 Wha fears the marmen's power !' " 
 
 
 
 Cam' back a marmaid bricht. 
 
 
 
 
 " I swarf't amid an ugsome den; 
 
 — — " 
 
 
 
 Cam' back in a palace rare; 
 
 
 
 
 I swarf't by a fien', whan I rase be my side 
 Stude a stalwart knicht an' fair. 
 
 3W& 35®itetgM i§t ffiiMtx. 
 
 
 
 " ' And dinna fear my winsome dear, 
 
 [Modern Ballad.— James Hogg.] 
 
 
 
 Fear naething now ava; 
 
 
 
 
 You're a marrr.aid fair, for evermair, 
 
 "Oh, came ye ower by the Yoke-burn Ford, 
 
 
 
 Your mortal life's awa'. 
 
 Or down the King's Road of the cleuch ? 
 Or saw ye a knight and a lady bright, 
 
 
 
 "'In luve an' lee— in game and glee — 
 
 Wha. ha'e gane the gate they baith shall 
 
 
 
 "We'll ring ower bonnie Clyde, 
 
 rue ?" 
 
 
 
 I'll aye to thee a bridegrume be, 
 
 
 
 
 You aye to me a bride. 
 
 "I saw a knight and a lady bright, 
 
 
 
 "'An' we'll bauld our court 'mid the roaring 
 
 Ride up the cleuch at the break of day ; 
 
 
 
 lins. 
 
 Tbe knight upon a coal-black steed, 
 
 
 
 And dafif in the lashan" tide. § 
 
 y And the dame on one of the silver gray. 
 
 
 
94 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 " And the lady's palfrey flew the first, 
 With many a clang of silver bell : 
 
 Swift as the raven's morning flight, 
 The two went scouring ower the fell. 
 
 " By this time they are man and wife, 
 And standing in St Mary's fane ; 
 
 And the lady in the grass-green silk 
 A maid you will never 6ee again." 
 
 " But I can tell thee, saucy wight,— 
 And that the runaways shall prove, — 
 
 Revenge to a Douglas is as sweet 
 
 As maiden charms or maiden's love." 
 
 " Since thou say'st that, my Lord Douglas, 
 Good faith some clinking there will be; 
 
 Beshrew my heart, but and my sword, 
 If 1 winna turn and ride with thee '." 
 
 They whipp'd out ower the Shepherd Cleuch, 
 And doun the links o' the Corsecleueh Burn ; 
 
 And aye the Douglas swore by his sword 
 To win his love or ne'er return. 
 
 " First fight your rival, Lord Douglas, 
 And then brag after, if you may; 
 
 For the earl of Boss is as brave a lord 
 As ever gave good weapon sway. 
 
 " But I for ae poor siller merk, 
 
 Or thirteen pennies an' a bawbee, 
 
 Will tak' in hand to fight you baith, 
 Or beat the winner, whiche'er it be." 
 
 The Douglas turn'd him on his steed, 
 And I wat a loud laughter leuch he: — 
 
 " Of a* the fools I have ever met, 
 
 Man, I ha'e never met ane like thee. 
 
 " Art thou akin to lord or knight, 
 Or courtly squire or warrior leal ?" 
 
 " I am a tinkler," quo' the wight, 
 
 " But 1 like crown-cracking unco weel." 
 
 When they came to St Mary's kirk, 
 The chaplin shook for very fear ; 
 
 And aye he kiss'd the cross, and said, 
 
 " What deevil has sent that Douglas here ! 
 
 " He neither values book nor ban", 
 
 But curses all without demur; 
 And cares nae mair for a holy man, 
 
 Than I do for a worthless cur." 
 
 "Come here, thou bland and brittle priest, 
 
 And tell to me without delay, 
 Where you have hid the lord of Ross, 
 
 And the lady that came at the break of day ? 
 
 " No knight or lady, good Lord Douglas, 
 Have I beheld since break of morn ; 
 
 And 1 never saw the lord of Ross, 
 
 Since the woeful day that I was born." 
 
 Lord Douglas turn'd him round about, 
 And look'd the Tinkler in the face; 
 
 Where he beheld a lurking smile, 
 And a deevil of a dour grimace. 
 
 " How's this, how's this, thou Tinkler loun ? 
 
 Hast thou presumed to lie on me f" 
 " Faith that 1 have !" the Tinkler said, 
 
 " And a right good turn 1 have done to thee ; 
 
 " For the lord of Ross, and thy own true love, 
 The beauteous Harriet of Thirlestane, 
 
 Rade west away, ere the break of day; 
 
 And you'll never see the dear maid again : 
 
 " So I thought it best to bring you here, 
 On a wrang scent, of my own accord ; 
 
 For had you met the Johnstone clan, 
 
 They wad ha'e made mince-meat of a lord." 
 
 At this the Douglas was so wroth, 
 
 He wist not what to say or do ; 
 But he strak the Tinkler o'er the croun, 
 
 Till the blood came dreeping ower his brow. 
 
 " Beshrew my heart," quo' the Tinkler lad, 
 " Thou bear'st thee most ungallantlye ! 
 
 If these are the manners of a lord, [me." 
 
 They are manners that winna gang down wi' 
 
 " Hold up thy hand,'- the Douglas cried, 
 "And keep thy distance, Tinkler loun I" 
 
 " That will I not," the Tinkler said, [down !" 
 " Though I and my mare should both go 
 
 " I have armour on," cried the Lord Douglas, 
 " Cuirass and helm, as you may see." 
 
 "The deil me care!" quo' the Tinkler lad; 
 " 1 shall have a skelp at them and thee." 
 
 " You are not horsed," quo' the Lord Douglas, 
 " And no remorse this weapon brooks." 
 
 "Mine'sarightgoodyaud," quo' the Tinkler lad 
 " And a great deal better nor she looks. 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 95 
 
 " So stand to thy weapons, thou haughty lord, 
 What I have taken I needs must give ; 
 
 Thou shalt never strike a tinkler again, 
 For the langest day thou hast to live." 
 
 Then to it they fell, both sharp and snell, 
 Till the fire from both thei • weapons flew , 
 
 But the very first shock that they met with, 
 The Douglas his rashness 'gan to rue. 
 
 For though he had on a sark of mail, 
 And a cuirass on his breast wore he, 
 
 With a good steel bonnet on his head, 
 Yet the blood ran trinkling to his knee. 
 
 The Douglas sat upright and firm, 
 Aye as together their horses ran ; 
 
 But the Tinkler laid on like a very deil,— 
 Sicean strokes were never laid on by man. 
 
 " Hold up thy hand, thou Tinkler loun," 
 Cried the poor priest, with whining din ; 
 
 " If thou hurt the brave Lord James Douglas, 
 A curse be on thee and all thy kin !" 
 
 " I care no more for Lord James Douglas, 
 Than Lord James Douglas cares for me ; 
 
 But 1 want to let his proud heart know, 
 That a Tinkler 's a man as well as he." 
 
 So they fought on, and they fought on, 
 
 Till go 'd Lord Douglas' breath was gone. 
 
 And the Tinkler bore him to the ground, 
 With rush, with rattle, and with groan. 
 
 " hon ! hon !" cried the proud Douglas, 
 " That I this day should have lived to see ! 
 
 For sure my honour I have lost, 
 
 And a leader again I can never be ! 
 
 " But tell rre of thy kith and kin, 
 
 And where was bred thy weapon hand? 
 
 For thou art the wale of tinkler louns 
 That ever was born in fair Scotland." 
 
 " My name's Jock Johnstone," quo' the wight,— 
 " 1 winna keep in my name frae thee; 
 
 And here, tak' thou thy sword again, 
 And better friends we two shall be." 
 
 But the D uglas swore a solemn oath, 
 That was a debt he could never owe; 
 
 He would rather die at the back of the dike, 
 Than owe his sword to a man so low. 
 
 " But if thou wilt ride under my banner, 
 And bear my livery and my name, 
 
 My right-hand warrior thou shalt be, 
 
 And I'll knight thee on the field of fame.' 
 
 " Woe worth thy wit, good lord Douglas, 
 To think I'd change my trade for thine; 
 
 Far better and w iser would you be, 
 To live as journeyman of mine, 
 
 " To mend a kettle or a casque, 
 
 Or clout a goodwife's yettlin' pan, — 
 
 Upon my life, good Lord Douglas, 
 You'd make a noble tinkler man ! 
 
 " I would give you drammock twice a-day, 
 And sunkets on a Sunday morn; 
 
 And you shculd be a rare adept 
 
 In steel and copper, brass and horn ! 
 
 "I'll fight you every day you rise, 
 Till you can act the hero's part; 
 
 Therefore, I pray you, think of this, 
 And lay it seriously to heart.'' 
 
 The Douglas writhed beneath the lash, 
 Answering with an inward curse, — 
 
 Like salmon wriggling on a spear, 
 
 That makes his deadly wound the worse. 
 
 But up there came two squires renown 'd; 
 
 In search of Lord Douglas they came; 
 And when they saw their master down, 
 
 Their spirits mounted in a flame. 
 
 And tbey flew upnn the Tinkler wight, 
 Like perfect tigers on their prey; 
 
 But the Tinkler heaved his trusty sword, 
 And made him ready for the fray. 
 
 " Come one to one ye coward knaves, — 
 Come hand to hand, and steed to steed, 
 
 I would that ye were better men, 
 For this is glorious work indeed!" 
 
 Before you could have counted twelve, 
 The Tinkler's wondrous chivalrye 
 
 Had both the squires upon the sward, 
 And their horses galloping o'er the lea. 
 
 The Tinkler tied them neck and heel, 
 And mony a biting jest gave he: 
 
 " fie, for shame!" said the Tinkler 'ad, 
 " Sicean fighters I did never see !" 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 Me slit one of their bridal reins, — 
 O what disgrace the conquer'd feels, 
 
 And he skelpit the squires with that good tawse, 
 Till the blood ran off at baith their heels. 
 
 The Douglas he was forced to laugh, 
 Till down his cheek the salt tear ran: 
 
 " I think the deevil be come here 
 In the likeness of a tinkler man '." 
 
 Then he has to Lord Douglas gone, 
 
 And he raised him kindly by the hand, 
 
 And he sat him on his gallant steed, 
 And bore him away to Henderland: 
 
 " Be not cast down, my Lord Douglas, 
 Nor writhe beneath a broken bane, 
 
 For the leach's art will mend the part, 
 And your honour lost will spring again. 
 
 " 'Tis true, Jock Johnstone is my name, 
 I'm a right good tinkler as you see; 
 
 For I can crack a casque betimes, 
 Or clout one, as my need may be. 
 
 " Jock Johnstone is my name, 'tis true, — 
 But noble hearts are allied to me, 
 
 For I <iin the Lord of Annandale, 
 
 And a Knight and earl as well as thee." 
 
 Then Douglass strain 'rt the hero's hand, 
 And took from it his sword again ; 
 
 Since thou art the lord of Annandale, 
 
 Thou hast e;ised my heart of mciklc pain. 
 
 " I might have known thy noble form, 
 In that disguise thou'rt pleased to wear; 
 
 All Scotland knows thy matchless arm, 
 And England by experience dear. 
 
 " We have been foes as well as friends, 
 And jealous of each other's sway; 
 
 But little can I comprehend 
 
 Thy motive fur these pranks to-day ?" 
 
 " Sooth, my good lord, the truth to tell, 
 •Twas I that stole your love away, 
 
 And gave her to the lord of Ross 
 An hour before the break of day : 
 
 " For the lord of Tioss is my brother, 
 
 By all the laws of chivalrye; 
 And 1 brought with me a thousand men 
 
 To guard him to my own countrye. 
 
 " But I thought meet to stay behind, 
 And try your lordship to waylay, 
 
 Eesolved to breed some noble sport, 
 By leading you so far astray. 
 
 " Judging it better some lives to spare,— 
 Which fancy takes me now and then, — 
 
 And settle our quarrel hand to hand, 
 Than each with our ten thousand men. 
 
 " God send you soon, my Lord Douglass, 
 To Border foray sound and haill ! 
 
 But never strike a tinkler again, 
 
 If he be a Johnstone of Annandale." 
 
 Slloimi* ^alg Eifoingaton. 
 
 [This ballad is given in Mr Jamieson's collec- 
 tion, where it is said to be taken from Mrs 
 j Brown of Falkland's recitation.] 
 
 O bonnie Baby Livingstone 
 
 Gaed out to view the hay ; 
 And by it cam' him Glenlyon, 
 
 Staw bonnie Baby away. 
 
 And first he's ta'en her silken coat, 
 
 And neist her satten gown ; 
 Syne row'd her in his tartan plaid, 
 
 And happ'd her round and roun'. 
 
 He's mounted her upon a steed, 
 
 And roundly rade away ; 
 And ne'er loot her look back again 
 
 The lce-lang simmer day. 
 
 He's carried her o'er yon hich hich hill, 
 
 Intil a Highland glen, 
 And there he met his brother John 
 
 Wi' twenty armed men. 
 
 And there were cows, and there were ewes, 
 And there were kids sae fair; 
 
 But sad and wae was bonnie Baby; 
 Her heart was fu' o' care. 
 
 He's ta'en her in his arms twa, 
 And kist her cheek and chin ; 
 
 " I wad gi'e a' my flocks and herd* 
 Ae smile frae thee to win !" 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 9*7 
 
 " A smile frae me ye'se never win ; : 
 
 I'll ne'er look kind on thee ; 
 Te've stown me awa' frae a' my kin', 
 
 Frae a' that 's dear to me. 
 
 fe Whan they cam' to Glenlyon castle, 
 They lighted at the yett ; 
 And out they cam', his three sisters, 
 Their brother for to greet. 
 
 " Dundee, kind sir, Dundee, kind sir, 
 Tak' me to bonnie Dundee ; 
 
 For ye sail ne'er my favour win 
 Till it ance mair I see." 
 
 And they have ta'en her, bonnie Baby, 
 And led her o'er the green ; 
 
 And ilka lady spak' a word, 
 But bonnie Baby spak' nane. 
 
 " Dundee, Baby ! Dundee, Baby ! 
 
 Dundee ye ne'er shall see ; 
 But I will carry you to Glenlyon, 
 
 "Where you my bride shall be. 
 
 Then out it spak' her, bonnie Jane, 
 The youngest o' the three : 
 
 " lady, why look ye sae sad ? 
 Come tell your grief to me.-' 
 
 " Or will ye stay at Achingour, 
 And eat sweet milk and cheese; 
 
 Or gang wi' me to Glenlyon, 
 
 And there we'll live at our ease ?" 
 
 " wharefore should I tell my grief, 
 
 Since lax I canna find ? 
 I'm far frae a' my kin and friends, 
 
 And my love I left behind. 
 
 " I winna stay at Achingour; 
 
 I care neither for milk nor cheese; 
 Nor gang wi* thee to Glenlyon ; 
 
 For there I'll ne'er find ease ?" 
 
 " But had I paper, pen, and ink, 
 Afore that it were day, 
 
 I yet might get a letter wrate. 
 And sent to Johnnie Hay. 
 
 Then out it spak' his brother John,— 
 
 " If I were in your place, 
 I'd send that lady hame again, 
 
 For a' her bonnie face. 
 
 " And gin I had a bonnie boy, 
 
 To help me in my need, 
 That he might rin to bonnie Dundee, 
 
 And come again wi' speed." 
 
 " Commend me to the lass that 's kind, 
 Though nae sae gently born ; 
 
 And, gin her heart I couldna win, 
 To take her hand I'd scorn." 
 
 And they ha'e gotten a bonnie boy, 
 
 Their errand for to gang ; 
 And bade him run to bonnie Dundee, 
 
 And nae to tarry lang. 
 
 " haud your tongue, my brother John, 
 
 Ye wisna what ye say ; 
 For I ha'e lued that bonnie face 
 
 This mony a year and day. 
 
 The boy he ran o'er muir and dale 
 
 As fast as he could flee ; 
 And e'er the sun was twa hours hight, 
 
 The boy was at Dundee. 
 
 " I've lued her lang, and lued her weel, 
 But her love I ne'er could win;* 
 
 And what I canna fairly gain, 
 To steal I think nae sin." 
 
 Whan Johnnie lookit the letter on, 
 A hearty laugh leuch he ; 
 
 But ere he read it till an end. 
 The tear blinded his e'e. 
 
 
 " wha is thi3, or what is that, 
 Has stown my love frae me ? 
 
 Although he were my ae brither, 
 An ill dead sail he dee. 
 
 i " Gae, saddle to me the black," he says; 
 
 " Gae, saddle to me the brown ; 
 J Gae, saddle to me the swiftest steed, 
 j» That ever rade frae the town." 
 a 
 
 * This is said in the true spirit of a Highland 
 Cath-er, "freebooter;" literally, soldier, or man 
 of battle, and, considering the manners of the 
 times, is much less discreditable to the name of 
 Glenlyon, than is another more notorious trans- 
 action of a much later date ; I mean the mas- 
 sacre of Glenco. — Jamieson. 
 
98 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 He's call'd upon his merry men a', 
 
 To follow him to the glen; 
 And he's vow'd he'd neither eat nor sleep 
 
 Till he got his love again. 
 
 He's mounted him on a milk-white steed, 
 
 And fast he rade away ; 
 And he's come to Glenlyon's yett, 
 
 About the close o" day. 
 
 As Baby at her window stood, 
 And the west-wind saft did blaw, 
 
 She heard her Johnnie's well kent voice 
 Aneath the castle wa'. 
 
 " O Baby, haste, the window loup ; 
 
 I'll kep you in my arm ; 
 My merry men are at the yett 
 
 To rescue you frae harm." 
 
 She to the window fix'd her sheets, 
 
 And slipped safely down ; 
 And Johnnie catch'd her in his arms, 
 
 Ne'er loot her touch the groun'. 
 
 Glenlyon and his brother John 
 
 Were birling in the ha', 
 "When they heard Johnnie's bridle ring 
 
 As fast he rade awa'. 
 
 " Rise Jock ; gang out and meet the priest, 
 
 I hear his bridle ring ; 
 My Baby now shall be my wife, 
 
 Before the laverock sing." 
 
 " O brither, this is nae the priest; 
 
 I fear he'll come o'er late; 
 For armed men wi' shining brands 
 
 Stand at the castle yett." 
 
 " Haste, Donald, Duncan, Dugald, Hugh, 
 Haste, tak' your sword and spear; 
 
 We'll gar these traytors rue the hour 
 That e'er they ventured here." 
 
 The Highlandmen drew their claymores, 
 
 And ga'e a warlike shout; 
 But Johnnie's merry men kept the yett, 
 
 Nae ane durst venture out. 
 
 The lovers rade the lee-lang night, 
 
 And safe got on their way ; 
 And bonnie Baby Livingstone 
 
 Has gotten Johnny Hay. 
 
 " Awa' Glenlyon ! fy for shame ! 
 
 Gae hide you in some den ; 
 You've latten your bride be stown frae you, 
 
 For a' your armed men." 
 
 ®fje 3pr0p]|j«g d #M£E 
 
 HSrawa. 
 
 [Ballad of the last century, attributed to 
 William Julius Mickle, the translator of the 
 Lusiad, and reputed author of the popular 
 Scotch song, " There 's nae luck about the 
 house."] 
 
 O'er the hills of Cheviot beaming, 
 Rose the silver dawn of May ; 
 
 Hostile spears, and helmets gleaming, 
 Swell'd along the mountains gray. 
 
 Edwin's warlike horn resounded 
 Through the winding dales below, 
 
 And the echoing hills rebounded 
 The defiance of the foe. 
 
 O'er the downs, like torrents pouring, 
 Edwin's horsemen rush'd along ; 
 
 From the hills like tempests lowering, 
 Slowly march'd stern Edgar's throng. 
 
 Spear to spear was now portended, 
 And the yew boughs half were drawn, 
 
 When the female scream ascended, 
 Shrilling o'er the crowded lawn. 
 
 While her virgins round her weeping, 
 Wav'd aloft their snowy hands, 
 
 From the wood queen Emma shrieking, 
 Ran between the dreadful bands. 
 
 "Oh, my sons, what rage infernal 
 Bids you grasp the unhallow'd spear; 
 
 Heaven detests the war fraternal ; 
 Oh, the impious strife forbear ! 
 
 " Ah, how mild and sweetly tender 
 Flow'd your peaceful early days ! 
 
 Each was then of each defender, 
 Each of each the pride and praise 
 

 
 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 99 
 
 
 
 " my first-born Edwin, soften, { 
 
 Nor invade thy brother's right ; 
 0, my Edgar, think how often 
 
 Edwin dar'd for thee the fight. 
 
 £ "Ah, my sons, how impious, cover d 
 With each other's blood," she cried: 
 While the eagles round her hover'd, 
 And wild scream for scream replied — 
 
 
 
 " Edgar, shall thy impious fury 
 Dare thy guardian to the field ! 
 
 0, my sons, let peace allure ye; 
 Thy stern claims, Edwin, yield. 
 
 " From that blood around you streaming, 
 Turn, my sons, your vengeful eyes ; 
 
 See what horrors o'er you streaming, 
 Muster round th' offended skies. 
 
 
 
 " Hah, what sight of horror waving, 
 Sullen Edgar, clouds thy rear I 
 
 Bring'st thou Denmark's banners, braving 
 Thy insulted brother's spear ? 
 
 " See what burning spears portended, 
 Couch'd by fire-ey'd spectres glare, 
 
 Circling round you both, suspended 
 On the trembling threads of air ! 
 
 
 
 " Ah, bethink how through thy regions 
 Midnight horror fearful howl'd ; 
 
 When, like wolves, the Danish legions 
 Through thy trembling forests prowl'd. 
 
 "O'er you both heaven's lightning vollies, 
 Wither'd is your strength ev'n now; 
 
 Idly weeping o'er your follies, 
 
 Soon your heads shall lowly bow. 
 
 
 
 " "When, unable of resistance, 
 
 Denmark's lance thy bosom gor'd — 
 
 And shall Edwin's brave assistance 
 Be repaid with Denmark's sword F 
 
 " Soon the Dane, the Scot, and Norman 
 O'er your dales shall havoc pour, 
 
 Every hold and city storming, 
 Every herd and field devour. 
 
 
 
 " With that sword shalt thou assail him, 
 From whose point he set thee free, 
 
 While his warlike sinews fail him, 
 Weak with loss of blood for thee ! 
 
 " Ha, what signal new arising 
 
 Through the dreadful group prevails ! 
 'Tis the hand of justice poising 
 
 High aloft the eternal scales. 
 
 
 
 " Oh, my Edwin, timely hearken, 
 And thy stern resolves forbear ! 
 
 Shall revenge thy councils darken, 
 Oh, my Edgar, drop the spear I 
 
 " Loaded with thy base alliance, 
 Rage and rancour all extreme, 
 
 Faith and honour's foul defiance, 
 Thine, Edgar, kicks the beam ! 
 
 
 
 " Wisdom tells, and justice offers, 
 How each wound may yet he balm'd , 
 
 0, revere these holy proffers, 
 
 Let the storms of hell be ealm'd. 
 
 " Opening mild and blue, reversing 
 O'er thy brother's wasted hills, 
 
 See the murky clouds dispersing, 
 And the fertile show'r distils. 
 
 
 
 *' Oh, my sons" — but all her sorrows 
 Fir'd their impious rage the more : 
 
 From the bow-strings sprung the arrows; 
 Soon the valleys reek'd with gore. 
 
 " But o'er thy devoted valleys 
 Blacker spreads the angry sky ; 
 
 Through the gloom pale lightning sallies, 
 Distant thunders groan and die. 
 
 
 
 Shrieking wild, with horror shivering, 
 Fled the queen all stain 'd with blood, 
 
 In her purpled bosom quivering, 
 Deep a feather'd arrow stood. 
 
 " O'er thy proudest castles waving, 
 Fed by hell and magic power, 
 
 Denmark tow'rs on high her raven, 
 Hatch'd in freedom's mortal hour. 
 
 
 
 Up the mountain she ascended, 
 Fierce as mounts the flame in air ; 
 
 And her hands, to heaven extended, 
 
 Scatter'd her uprooted hair. ^ 
 
 " ' Cursed be the day detested, 
 
 Cursed be the fraud profound, 
 When on Denmark's spear we rested/ 
 } Through thy streets shall loud resound. 
 
 
 
100 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 "To thy brother sad imploring, 
 Now I see thee turn thine eyes — 
 
 Hah, in settled darkness louring, 
 Now no more the visions rise ! 
 
 " But thy ranc'rous soul descending 
 To thy sons from age to age, 
 
 Province then from province rending, 
 "War on war shall bleed and rage. 
 
 " This thy freedom proudly boasted, 
 Hapless Edgar," loud she cried — 
 
 "With her wounds and woes exhausted, 
 Down on earth she sunk and died. 
 
 PuIgOoie, 
 
 [From the Edinburgh Annual Register for 
 1810.] 
 
 On Rimside Moor a. tempest-cloud 
 
 Its dreary shadows cast 
 At midnight, and the desert flat 
 
 Re-echoed to the blast; 
 
 When a poor child of guilt came there 
 
 With frantic step to range, 
 For blood was sprinkled on the garb 
 
 He dared not stay to change. 
 
 " My God ! oh whither shall I turn ? 
 
 The horsemen press behind, 
 Their hollo' and their horses' tramp 
 
 Come louder on the wind; 
 
 " But there 's a sight on yonder heath 
 
 1 dare not, cannot face, 
 Though 'twere to save me from those hounds, 
 
 And gain my spirit grace. 
 
 " Why did I seek those hated haunts 
 
 Long shunn'd so fearfully; 
 Was there not room on other hills 
 
 To hide and shelter me ? 
 
 " Here's blood on every stone I meet, 
 
 Bones in each glen so dim, 
 And comrade Gregory that's dead '. — 
 
 But I'll not think of him. 
 
 " I'll seek that hut where I was wont 
 
 To dwell on a former day, 
 Nor terrors vain, nor things long past, 
 
 Shall scare me thence away. 
 
 " That cavern from the law's pursuit 
 
 Has saved me oft before, 
 And fear constrains to visit haunts 
 
 I hoped to see no more." 
 
 Through well-known paths, though long un- 
 The robber took his way, [trod, 
 
 Until before his eyes the cave 
 All dark and desert lay. 
 
 There he, when safe beneath its roof, 
 
 Began to think the crowd 
 Had left pursuit, so wild the paths, 
 
 The tempest was so loud. 
 
 The bolts had still retain 'd their place, 
 
 He barred the massy door, 
 And laid him down and heard the blast 
 
 Careering o'er the moor. 
 
 Terror and guilt united strove 
 
 To chase sweet sleep away; 
 But sleep with toil prevail'd at last, 
 
 And seized him where he lay. 
 
 A knock comes thundering to the door, 
 
 The robber's heart leaps high — 
 "Now open quick, remember'st not 
 
 Thy comrade Gregory ?" — 
 
 " Whoe'er thou art, with smother'd voice 
 
 Strive not to cheat mine ear, 
 My comrade Gregory is dead, 
 
 His bones are hanging near!" 
 
 " Now ope thy door nor parley more, 
 
 Be sure I'm Gregory ! 
 An 'twere not for the gibbet rope, 
 
 My voice were clear and free. 
 
 " The wind is high, the wind is loud, 
 
 It bends the old elm tree; 
 The blast has toss d my bones about 
 
 This night most wearily. 
 
 " The elm was dropping on my hair, 
 
 The shackles gall'd my feet •: 
 To hang in chains is a bitter lair 
 
 And oh a bed is sweet ! 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 101 
 
 " For many a night I've borne my lot, ( 
 
 Nor yet disturb'd thee here, 
 Then sure a pillow thou wilt give 
 
 "Unto thy old compeer ?" 
 
 " Tempt me no more," the robber cried, 
 
 And struggled with his fear, 
 Were this a night to ope my door, 
 
 Thy taunt should cost thee dear." — 
 
 " Ah, comrade, you did not disown, 
 
 Nor bid me brave the cold, 
 The door was open'd soon, when I 
 
 Brought murder'd Mansell's gold. 
 
 " When for a bribe you gave me up, 
 
 To the cruel gallows tree, 
 You made my bed with readiness, 
 
 And stirr'd the fire for me. 
 
 But I have sworn to visit thee, 
 
 Then cease to bid me go, 
 And open— or thy bolts and bars 
 
 Shall burst beneath my blow." 
 
 Oh sictk at heart grew Polydore, 
 
 And wish'd the dawn of day ; 
 That voice had quell'd his haughtiness, 
 
 He knew not what to say. 
 
 For now the one that stood without 
 
 An entrance craved once more, 
 And when no answer was return'd, 
 
 He struck — and burst the door. 
 
 Some words he mutter'd o'er the latch, 
 
 They were no words of good, 
 And by the embers of the hearth, 
 
 All in his shackles stood. 
 
 A wreath of rusted iron bound 
 
 His grim unhallowed head; 
 A daemon's spark was in his eye — 
 
 Its mortal light was dead. 
 
 " Why shrink'st thou thus, good comrade, 
 With such a wilder'd gaze, [now, 
 
 Dost fear my rusted shackles' clank, 
 Dost fear my wither'd face ? 
 
 " But for the gallows rope, my face 
 
 Had ne'er thus startled thee; 
 And the gallows rope, was't not the fruit 
 
 Of thy foul treachery ? ^B 
 
 " But come thou forth, we'll visit now 
 The elm of the wither'd rind ; 
 
 For though thy door was barr'd to me, 
 Yet I will be more kind. 
 
 " That is my home, the ravens there 
 
 Are all my company ; 
 And they and I will both rejoice 
 
 In such a guest as thee. 
 
 " The wind is loud, but clasp my arm — 
 Why, fool, dost thou delay ? 
 
 You did not fear to clasp that arm. 
 When my life was sold away." 
 
 The midnight blast sung wild and loud 
 Round trembling Polydore, 
 
 As by his dead companion led 
 He struggled o'er the moor. 
 
 Soon had they reaeh'd a wilderness 
 
 By human foot unpress'd, 
 The wind grew cold, the heather sigh'd, 
 
 As conscious of their guest. 
 
 Alone amid the dreary waste 
 
 The wither'd elm reclined, 
 Where a halter with a ready noose 
 
 Hung dancing in the wind. 
 
 Then turning round, his ghastly face 
 Was twisted with a smile — 
 
 " Now living things are far remote, 
 We'll rest us here awhile. 
 
 " Brothers we were, false Polydore, 
 
 We robb'd in company ; 
 Brothers in life, and we in death 
 
 Shall also brothers be. 
 
 the elm, behold the rope 
 Which 1 prepared before — 
 Art pale ? 'tis but a struggle, man, 
 And soon that struggle 's o'er. 
 
 Tremble no more, but freely come, 
 
 And like a brother be ; 
 I'll hold the rope, and in my arms 
 
 I'll help you up the tree." 
 
 The eyes of Polydore grew dim, 
 He roused himself to pray, 
 
 But a heavy weight sat on his breast 
 And took all voice away. 
 

 
 
 J 02 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 The rope is tied— then from his lips i 
 
 i" For, as legends tell, an unseen spell 
 
 
 
 A cry of anguish broke — 
 
 Doth screen him from mortal wound; 
 
 
 
 Too powerful for the bands of sleep, 
 
 Unless the steel be dipp'd in a well 
 
 
 
 And Polydore awoke. 
 
 That holy wall doth bound." 
 
 
 
 All vanish'd now the cursed elm, 
 
 Sad was her heart when she saw her page part, 
 
 
 
 His dead companion gone, 
 
 And she fear'd she would see him no more; 
 
 
 
 With troubled joy he found himself 
 
 For, in secret, long her soul was wrung 
 
 
 
 In darkness and alone. 
 
 With a love that ne'er trembled before. 
 
 
 
 But still the wind with hollow gusts 
 
 " Oh, what is that sound seems to come from 
 
 
 
 Fought ravening o'er the moor, 
 
 the ground, 
 
 
 
 And check'd his transports, while it shook 
 
 And now sweeps along on the air !" 
 
 
 
 The barricaded door. 
 
 She dared not look, for with terror she shook, 
 And she tremblingly murmur'd a prayer. 
 
 
 
 
 
 And o'er the dun heath a balmy breath 
 Stole like roses and violets sweet; 
 
 
 
 ©fje lLaiOjg atib jjje* iPage. 
 
 And the lavender blue, all dropping with dew, 
 Strew'd the ground at the lady's feet. 
 
 
 
 [From the Scots Magazine for 1817.] 
 
 " Fair maiden come to our twilling home, 
 Where we'll sport so merrily; 
 
 
 
 It was a sweet and gentle hour, 
 
 The glow-worm by night shall lend us a light, 
 
 
 
 'Twas the night of a summer day, 
 
 As we dance round the grey ash tree ; 
 
 
 
 When a lady bright, on her palfrey white, 
 
 
 
 
 Paced across the moorland grey. 
 
 "Or, with unwet wings, we'll sport in the 
 
 springs 
 
 
 
 And oft she check'd her palfrey's rein, 
 
 That roll far beneath the sea; 
 
 
 
 As if she heard footsteps behind, 
 
 Or to the bright moon we'll fly as soon, 
 
 
 
 'Twas her heart of fear that deceived her ear, 
 
 If my love thou wilt deign to be." 
 
 
 
 And she heard but the passing wind. 
 
 Askance she gaz'd — and her eye she rais'd, 
 
 
 
 There trips a page that lady beside, 
 
 A youth stood timidly nigh, 
 
 
 
 To guide the silken rein, 
 
 And, of a truth, 'twas a lovely youth 
 
 
 
 And he holds up those, with duteous care, 
 
 As ever met maiden's eye. 
 
 
 
 Her foot-cloth's sweeping train : 
 
 His tresses brown, the same mantling down, 
 
 
 
 And that page was a knight, who in menial 
 
 Seem'd his snowy neck to veil ; 
 
 
 
 plight, 
 
 1 And with chrysolite eyes, his wings crimson 
 
 
 
 For love of that stately dame, 
 
 dyes, 
 
 
 
 Long serv'd at her board, though a high born 
 
 1 Were stain'd like the peacock's tail. 
 
 
 
 lord, 
 
 
 
 
 And a foe to her father's name. 
 
 ! His eye was bright, as the northern streamer's 
 light, 
 
 
 
 Across the haze there streain'd a pale blaze, 
 
 | But his cheek was sad and pale 
 
 
 
 And the page's cheek blaneh'd with fear — 
 
 1 And as the lines of care that were written there, 
 
 
 
 " Oh, see, lady, see ! at the foot of yon tree, 
 
 A spirit might read and wail : 
 
 
 
 The blue fire that burns sae clear ! 
 
 1 
 
 i But his sky-tinctur'd vest to his eye-lids was prest 
 
 
 
 'Tis the prince of the night, 'tis the elfin sprite, 
 
 And his heart seem'd bursting with woe, 
 
 
 
 With his ghostly revelry : 
 
 j And the white, white rose, that wreath'd hia 
 
 
 
 Sweet lady, stand with this cross in thine hand, 
 
 brows, 
 
 
 
 Or thou and 1 must die! < 
 
 f Seem'd pale, and paler to glow. 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. J 03 
 
 
 ** I've watch'd thee late and early, s 
 
 : But who is he that flies with his soul in his eyes, 
 
 
 
 I've watch'd thee night and day ; 
 
 Wide waving a faulchion of steel ? 
 
 
 
 I've loved thee, lady, dearly, 
 
 But the flush on her cheek, ere a word she could 
 
 
 
 With love that can never decay : 
 
 A nursling babe might tell. [speak, 
 
 
 
 " I've heard thy sleeping sigh, lady, 
 
 'Twas an urchin sprite, in the guise of her 
 
 
 
 I've heard thy waking prayer; 
 
 'Twas a wile of the elfin king ; [knight, 
 
 
 
 So mortal foot was nigh, lady, 
 
 And the vision so quaint, in form and in teint, 
 
 
 
 But I was weeping there. 
 
 Her soul to her cheek did bring. 
 
 
 
 " With an eye that no thought can deceive, 
 
 "Hush'd, hush'd be your fear, for your true 
 
 
 
 lady, 
 
 knight is near, 
 
 
 
 I've seen love sweetly stealing on thee ; 
 
 With the brand that his patron saint gave, 
 
 
 
 I know that young bosom can heave, lady, 
 
 No elfin wight may dare its might, 
 
 
 
 And shall it not heave for me ?" 
 
 For 'tis dipp'd in St Angelo's wave: 
 
 
 
 The lady stood — and her unchill'd blood 
 
 " And the cowl'd friar, and convent quire, 
 
 
 
 Gave her lip its warmest hue ; 
 
 Are waiting our nuptials to say; 
 
 
 
 But the cross to her breast was fervently 
 
 Haste, lady, haste, for the night's fading fast, 
 
 
 
 press'd, 
 
 And the eastern cloud is grey. 
 
 
 
 And still her heart was true. 
 
 " But give me the cross that's hid in thy breast, 
 
 
 
 "Yet rest thee here, oh, lady, dear, 
 
 And give me the rosary too ; 
 
 
 
 And my minstrel spirits gay, 
 
 And I'll lead thee o'er the perilous moor, 
 
 
 
 With harp and lute, and fairy flute, 
 
 On the faith of a knight so true." 
 
 
 
 Shall play thee a roundelay." 
 
 Oh, she gave up the cross that was laid in her 
 
 
 
 All was hush'd and still on the elfin hill, 
 
 breast, 
 
 
 
 Ail was hush'd in the evening vale ; 
 
 And she gave up the rosary too — 
 
 
 
 Hot a whisper was heard, not a footstep stirr'd. 
 
 Ashegrasp'd them, he frown'd, and he smote 
 
 
 
 Not an aspen-leaf shook in the gale. 
 
 the ground, 
 And out rush'd the elfin crew. 
 
 
 
 Then soft and slow a note of woe 
 
 
 
 
 Came far on the breathless air ; 
 
 And the goblin rout gave a maddening shout, 
 
 
 
 'Twas wild as the strain of a mermaid train 
 
 And danc'd round them in many a wild ring, 
 
 
 
 When they're combing their yellow hair ; 
 
 And the slender waist of that lady chaste 
 Was clasp'd by the elfin king. 
 
 
 
 'Twas wild as the dirge that floats o'er the surge, 
 
 
 
 
 The mariner's lonely grave, 
 
 All loose was her hair, and her bosom was bare, 
 
 
 
 All — while mortals sleep, they sing and they 
 
 And his eye it glar'd fierce and buld, 
 
 
 
 weep, 
 
 And her wan lip he press'd, and her shuddering 
 
 
 
 And they glide on the moonlight wave. 
 
 breast, 
 And he grasped her locks of gold. 
 
 
 
 Then it rose rich and high, like the chaunt of 
 
 
 
 
 joy 
 
 But instant a blow made the caitiff forego 
 
 
 
 That breathes round the hermit bower; 
 
 His grasp of that victim fair, 
 
 
 
 When cherubim bright leave their mansions of 
 
 And deadly he groan'd, as he shrunk from the 
 
 
 
 light, 
 
 wound, 
 
 
 
 To soothe his dying hour. 
 
 And the phantom crew vanish'd in air. 
 
 
 
 Oh, how the heart beat of the lady sweet, 
 
 " I've sav'd thee, my love ! by help from above, 
 
 
 
 But her heart did not beat with fear j 
 
 I've sav'd thee from mortal harms 1" 
 
 
 
 The train so wild her senses had guil'd, 
 
 And no word she spoke, but she gave him a look, 
 
 
 
 And she loved, though she trembled to bear. ^ 
 
 j And sunk in her true knight's arms. 
 
 
 " - 1 
 
104 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 & 
 
 [From Buchan's Ancient Ballads. — " A frag- 
 ment of this pathetic ballad," says Mr Buchan, 
 will be found in the Edinburgh Collection of 
 1776, Vol. I. p. 165 ; but it is deficient in narra- 
 tive, and imperfect in the tragical detail of 
 what it contains. For some real or imaginary 
 cause, the hero of the ballad murders his lover's 
 only brother, for which he intends leaving the 
 place of his rendezvous, but is prevented by the 
 lady, who promises to secrete him in a place of 
 her own bower. She proved faithful to her pro- 
 mise; for when nine armed men came in pursuit 
 of him, she kept him secure ; and to keep up the 
 deception, and prevent suspicion, she entertain- 
 ed them all with bread and wine, — a proof that 
 love is stronger than death. He having heard 
 the men in converse with the lady, naturally 
 supposed, from a guilty conscience, that they 
 were his foes, and admitted into the house by the 
 lady for his detection ; so that, when she entered 
 his apartment in a friendly manner, to inform 
 him of the departure of his enemies, he drew 
 his sword and gave her a mortal wound, think- 
 ing it was one of the men come to appre- 
 hend and secure him. On the discovery of his 
 fatal mistake, the lady advised him to fly for his 
 life, but he declined it, thinking himself worthy 
 of death for her sake.] 
 
 Lord John stands in his stable door, 
 
 Says he, I will gae ride ; 
 His lady, in her bigly bower, 
 
 Desired him to bide. 
 
 " How can I bide, how can I bide ? 
 
 How shall I bide wi' thee ? 
 When I ha'e kill'd your ae brother, 
 
 You ha'e nae mair but he." 
 
 " If ye ha'e kill'd my ae brother, 
 
 Alas I and wae is me ; 
 If ye be well yoursel', my love, 
 
 The less matter will it be ! 
 
 " Te'll do you to yon bigly bower, 
 
 And take a silent sleep , 
 And I'll watch in my highest tower, 
 
 Your fair body to keep." < 
 
 She has shut her bigly bower, 
 
 All wi' a silver pin ; 
 And done her to the highest tower, 
 
 To watch that nane come in. 
 
 But as she looked round about, 
 
 To see what she could see, 
 There she saw nine armed knights 
 
 Come riding o'er the lea. 
 
 " God make you safe and free, lady, 
 
 God make you safe and free ! 
 Did you see a bludy knight 
 
 Come riding o'er the lea?" 
 
 " O, what like was his hawk, his hawk 3 
 And what like was his hound ? 
 
 If his steed has ridden well, 
 
 He's pass'd fair Scotland's strand. 
 
 " Come in, come in, gude gentlemen, 
 And take white bread and wine ; 
 
 And aye the better ye'll pursue, 
 The lighter that ye dine." 
 
 " We thank you for your bread, lady, 
 
 We thank you for the wine ; 
 And I would gi'e my lands sae broad, 
 
 Your fair body were mine." 
 
 She has gane to her bigly bower, 
 
 Her ain gude lord to meet; 
 A trusty brand he quickly drew, 
 
 Ga'e her a wound sae deep. 
 
 " What harm, my lord, provokes thine ire, 
 
 To wreak itself on me, 
 When thus I strove to save thy life, 
 
 Yet served for sic a fee ?" 
 
 " Ohon, alas ! my lady gay, 
 
 To come so hastilie; 
 I thought it was my deadly foe, 
 
 Ye had trysted into me. 
 
 " O live, live, my gay lady, 
 
 The space o' ae half hour, 
 And nae a leech in a' the land 
 
 But I'se bring to your bower." 
 
 " How can I live, how shall I live ? 
 
 How can I live for thee ? 
 Ye see my blude rins on the ground, 
 
 My heart's blude by your knee. ' 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 105 
 
 " O take to flight, and flee, my love, 
 
 O take to flight, and flee ! 
 I wouldna wish your fair body 
 
 For to get harm for me." 
 
 " Ae foot I winna flee, lady, 
 
 Ae foot I winna flee ; 
 I've dune the crime worthy o' death, 
 
 It's right that I should die. 
 
 " deal ye well at my love's lyke, 
 The beer, but an' the wine ; 
 
 For, ere the morn, at this same time, 
 Yell deal the same at mine. 
 
 [From Buchan's Ballads.] 
 
 As I gaed in yon greenwood side, 
 
 I heard a lair maid singing ; 
 Her voice was sweet, she sang sae complete, 
 
 That all the woods were ringing. 
 
 " O, I'm the duke o' Athole's nurse, 
 
 My post is well becoming; 
 But I would gi'e a' my half-year's fee, 
 
 For ae sight o' my leman." 
 
 " Ye say, ye're the duke o' Athole's nurse, 
 
 Your post is well becoming ; 
 Keep well, keep well your half-year s fee, 
 
 Ye'se ha'e twa sights o' your leman.-' 
 
 He lean'd him ower his saddle bow, 
 
 And cannilie kiss'd his dearie; 
 " Ohon, and alake ! anither has my heart, 
 
 And 1 darena mail come near thee !" 
 
 " Ohon, and alake ! if anither ha'e your heart, 
 These words ha'e fairly undone me; 
 
 But let us set a tiu.e, tryst to meet again, 
 Then in gude friends you will twine me. 
 
 " Ye will do you down to yon tavern house, 
 And drink till the day be dawing; 
 
 And, as sure as 1 ance had a love for you, 
 I'll come there and clear your lawing. 
 
 " Ye'll spare not the wine, although it be fine, 
 
 Nae Malago, though it be rarely ; 
 But ye'll aye drink the bonnie lassie's health 
 
 That's to clear your lawing fairly." 
 
 Then he's done him down to yon tavern house. 
 
 And drank till day was dawing ; 
 And aye he drank the bonnie lassie's health 
 
 That was coming to clear his lawing. 
 
 And aye as he birled, and aye as he drank, 
 
 The gude beer and the brandy ; 
 He spar'd not the wine, although it was fine, 
 
 The sack nor the sugar candy. 
 
 " It's a wonder to me," the knight he did say, 
 
 " Jly bonnie lassie's sae delaying; 
 She promis'd, as sure as she loved me ance, 
 
 She would be here by the dawing." 
 
 He's done him to a shott window, 
 
 A little before the dawing ; 
 And there he spied her nine brothers bauld, 
 
 "Were coming to betray him. 
 
 " Where shall I rin, where shall I gang, 
 
 Or where shall I gang hide me ? 
 She that was to meet me in friendship this day, 
 
 Has sent nine men to slay me !" 
 
 He's gane to the landlady o' the house, 
 
 Says, "O can you supply me? 
 For she that was to meet me in friendship this day, 
 
 Has sent nine men to slay me l" 
 
 She ga'e him a suit o' her ain female claise, 
 
 And set him to the baking ; 
 The bird never sang mair sweet on the bush, 
 
 Nor the knight sung at the baking. 
 
 As they Kme in at the ha' door, 
 
 Sae loudly as they rappit; 
 And when they came upon the floor, 
 
 Sae loudly as they chappit. 
 
 " O, had ye a stranger here last night, 
 "Who drank till the day was dawing ? 
 
 Come, show us the chamber where he lyes in, 
 "We'll shortly clear his lawing." 
 
 " I had nae stranger here last night, 
 
 That drank till the day was dawing ; 
 But ane that took a pint, and paid it e'er he went, 
 i And there's naething to clear o' his lawing." 
 

 
 
 
 
 106 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 
 A lad amang the rest, being o' a merry mood, fy " 0, lady fair, give me your hand, 
 
 
 
 To the young knight fell a-talking ; 
 
 With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay; 
 
 
 
 The wife took her foot, and ga'e bim a kick, 
 
 And I'll mak' you lady of a' my land, 
 
 
 
 Says, " Be busy, ye jilt, at your baking." 
 
 As the primrose spreads so sweetly/' 
 
 
 
 They stabbed the house, baith but and ben, 
 
 " Sir knight, ere you my favour win, 
 
 
 
 The curtains they spared nae riving; 
 
 With a heigh-ho ! and a lily gay; 
 
 
 
 And for a' that they did search and ca', 
 
 Ye maun get consent frae a' my kin', 
 
 
 
 For a kiss o' the knight tbey wert striving. 
 
 As the primrose spreads so sweetly." 
 He has got consent frae her parents dear, 
 
 
 
 
 With a heigh-ho ! and a lily gay ; 
 And likewise frae her sisters fair, 
 
 
 
 ®|e €xml Mx®t§w. 
 
 As the primrose spreads so sweetly. 
 He has got consent frae her kin' each one, 
 
 
 
 [From Jamieson's Collection, given on the 
 authority of Mrs Brown of Falkland. —Mr 
 Jamieson says, "The ballad is very popular in 
 
 With a heigh-ho ! and a lily gay ; 
 
 But forgot to spear at her brother John, 
 
 As the primrose spreads so sweetly. 
 
 
 
 Scotland; and an edition of it, differing mate- 
 rially from that here given, has appeared in the 
 
 Now, when the wedding-day was come, 
 With a heigh-ho ! and a lily gay ; 
 
 
 
 Edinburgh Collection, in two volumes."] 
 
 The knight would take his bonnie bride home, 
 As the primrose spreads so sweetly. 
 
 
 
 There was three ladies play'd at the ba', 
 
 
 
 
 With a heigh-ho ! and a lily gay; 
 
 And many a lord and many a knight, 
 
 
 
 The/e came a knight, and play'd o'er them a', 
 
 With a he:gh-ho ! and a lily gay ; 
 
 
 
 As the primrose spreads so sweetly. 
 
 Came to behold that lady bright, 
 As the primrose spreads so sweetly. 
 
 
 
 The eldest was baith tall and fair, 
 
 
 
 
 With a heigh-ho ! and a lily gay ; 
 
 And there was nae man that did her see, 
 
 
 
 But the youngest was beyond compare, 
 
 With a heigh-ho ! and a lily gay ; 
 
 
 
 As the primrose spreads so sweetly. 
 
 But wished himself bridegroom to be, 
 As the primrose spreads so sweetly. 
 
 
 
 The midmost had a gracefu' mien, 
 
 
 
 
 With a heigh-ho ! and a lily gay; 
 
 Her father dear led her down the stair, 
 
 
 
 But the youngest look'd like beauty's queen, 
 
 With a heigh-ho ! and a lily gay ; 
 
 
 
 As the primrose spreads so sweetly. 
 
 And her sisters twain they kiss'd her there, 
 As the primrose spreads so sweetly. 
 
 
 
 The knight bow'd low to a' the three, 
 
 
 
 
 With a heigh-ho ! and a lily gay; 
 
 Her mother dear led her through the close, 
 
 
 
 But to the youngest he bent his knee, 
 
 With a heigh-ho ! and a lily gay ; 
 
 
 
 As the primrose spreads so sweetly. 
 
 And her brother John set her on the horse, 
 As the primrose spreads so sweetly. 
 
 
 
 The lady turned her head aside, 
 
 
 
 
 With a heigh-ho ! and a lily gay; 
 
 She lean'd her o'er the saddle-bow, 
 
 
 
 The knight he woo'd her to be his bride, 
 
 With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay; 
 
 
 
 As the primrose spreads so sweetly. 
 
 i 
 
 To give him a kiss ere she did go, 
 As the primrose spreads so sweetly. 
 
 
 
 The lady blush'd a rosy red, 
 
 
 
 
 With a heigh-ho ! and a lily gay , 
 
 He has ta'en a knife, baith lang and sharp, 
 
 
 
 And said, " Sir knight, I'm o'er young to i 
 
 AVith a heigh-ho ! and a lily gay ; 
 
 
 
 wed, 
 
 And stabb d the bonnie bride to the heart 
 
 
 
 As the primrose spreads so sweetly." ^ 
 
 t As the primrose spreads so sweetly. 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 107 
 
 
 
 She hadna ridden half through the town, i 
 With a heigh-ho ! and a lily gay, 
 
 ■ %%z %m% of sSMHItde. 
 
 
 
 Until her heart's blood stained her gown, 
 
 
 
 
 As the primrose spreads so sweetly. 
 
 [This ballad is given in Herd's Collection, and 
 is founded on a circumstance which took place in 
 
 
 
 " Ride saftly on," said the best young man, 
 
 1592, and which is thus related by Spotswood. 
 
 
 
 " With a heigh-ho ! and a lily gay ; 
 
 " At the same time, John Weymis, younger of 
 
 
 
 For I think our bonnie bride looks pale and wan, 
 
 Bogie, gentleman of his majesty s chamber, and 
 
 
 
 As the primrose spreads so sweetly." 
 
 J in great favour both with the king and queen, 
 i was discovered to have the like dealing with 
 
 
 
 " 0, lead me gently up yon hill, 
 
 . Bothwell ; and, being committed to the keeping 
 
 
 
 With a heigh-ho ! and a lily gay ; 
 
 ! of the guard, escaped by the policy of one of the 
 
 
 
 And 111 there sit down, and make my will, 
 
 | Butch maids, with whom he entertained a secret 
 
 
 
 As the primrose spreads so sweetly." 
 
 love. The gentlewoman, named Mistress Mar- 
 garet Twinslace, coming one night, whilst the 
 
 
 
 " 0, what will you leave to your father dear, 
 
 king and queen were in bed, to his keepers, 
 
 
 
 With a heigh-ho ! and a lily gay ?" 
 
 showed that the king called for the prisoner, to 
 
 
 
 " The silver shod steed that brought me here, 
 
 ask of him some question. The keepers, suspect- 
 
 
 
 As the primrose spreads so sweetly." 
 
 ing nothing, for they knew her to be the principal 
 maid in the chamber, conveighed him to the 
 
 
 
 " What will you leave to your mother dear, 
 
 door of the bed-chamber ; and, making a stay 
 
 
 
 With a heigh-ho ! and a lily gay ?" 
 
 without as they were commanded, the gentle- 
 
 
 
 " My velvet pall and silken gear, 
 
 woman did let him down at a window, by a cord 
 
 
 
 As the primrose spreads so sweetly." 
 
 that she had prepared. The keepers, waiting 
 upon his return, stayed there till the morning, 
 
 
 
 " And what will you leave to your sister Ann, 
 
 and then found themselves deceived. This, with 
 
 
 
 With a heigh-ho ! and a lily gay ?" 
 
 the manner of the escape, ministered great occa- 
 
 
 
 "My silken scarf and my golden fan, 
 
 sion of laughter ; and, not many days after, the 
 
 
 
 As the primrose spreads so sweetly." 
 
 king being pacified by the queen's means, he was 
 pardoned, and took to wife the gentlewoman 
 
 
 
 " What will you leave to your sister Grace, 
 
 who had, in this sort, hazarded her credit for 
 
 
 
 With a heigh-ho ! and a lily gay ?" 
 
 his safety." — How the name of the hero Bogie 
 
 
 
 " My bloody cloaths to wash and dress, 
 
 happened to be changed to Ochiltrie, as in the 
 
 
 
 As the primrose spreads so sweetly." 
 
 present ballad, is not known.] 
 
 
 
 " What will ye leave to your brother John, 
 
 listen gude people to my tale, 
 
 
 
 With a heigh-ho ! and a lily gay ?" 
 
 Listen to what I tell to thee, 
 
 
 
 " The gallows-tree to hang him on, 
 
 The king has taiken a poor prisoner, 
 
 
 
 As the primrose spreads so sweetly." 
 
 The wanton laird of Ochiltrie. 
 
 
 
 " What will ye leave to your brother John's wife, 
 
 When news came to our guidly queen, 
 
 
 
 With a heigh-ho ! and a lily gay ?" 
 
 She sicht, and said richt mournfullie, 
 
 
 
 " The wilderness to end her life, 
 
 " what will cum of lady Margaret, 
 
 
 
 As the primrose spreads so sweetly." 
 
 Wha bears sic luve to Ochiltrie ?" 
 
 
 
 This fair lady in her grave was laid, 
 
 Lady Margaret tore hir yellow hair 
 
 
 
 With a heigh-ho ! and a lily gay; 
 
 When as the queen told hir the saim -. 
 
 
 
 And a mass was o'er her said, 
 
 "I wis that I had neir been born, 
 
 
 
 As the primrose spreads so sweetly. 
 
 Nor neir had known Ochiltrie's name." 
 
 
 
 But it would have made your heart right sair, 
 
 " Fy na," quo' the queen, " that maunnabe. 
 
 
 
 With a heigh-ho ! and a lily gay; 
 
 Fy na, that maunna be; 
 
 
 
 To see the bridegroom rive his hair, 
 
 I'll find ye out a better way 
 
 
 
 As the primrose spreads so sweetly. \ 
 
 j To saif the lyfe of Ochiltrie.'' 
 
 
 
108 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 The queen she trrppet up the 6ta5r, 
 And lowly knielt upon her knie : 
 
 " The first boon which I cum to craive 
 Is the lyfe of gentel Ochiltrie." 
 
 " O if you had ask'd me castels and towirs, 
 I wad ha'e gin them twa or thrie; 
 
 But a' the monie in fair Scotland 
 "Winna buy the lyfe of Ochiltrie." 
 
 The queen she trippet doun the stair, 
 And down she gade richt niournfullie , 
 
 " Its a' the monie in fair Scotland, 
 Winna buy the lyfe of Ochiltrie." 
 
 Lady Margaret tore her yellow hair, 
 When as the queen told hir the same ; 
 
 " I'll tali' a knife and end my lyfe, 
 And be in the grave as soon as him." 
 
 " Ah! na, fie ! na," quoth the queen, 
 " Fie ! na, fie! na, this maunna be ; 
 
 I'll set ye yet on a better way 
 To loose and set Ochiltrie frie." 
 
 The queen she slippet up the stair, 
 And she gade up richt privatlie, 
 
 And she has stoun the prison-keys, 
 And gane and set Ochiltrie frie. 
 
 And she's gi'en him a purse of gowd, 
 
 And another of white rnonie ; 
 She's gi'en him twa pistols by's side, 
 
 Saying to him, " Shute when ye win frie." 
 
 And when he cam' to the queen's window, 
 Whaten ajoyfu' shute ga'e he! 
 
 " Peace be to our royal queen, 
 And peace be in her companie." 
 
 " O whaten a voice is that ?" quoth the king, 
 " Whaten a voice is that?" quoth he, 
 
 " Whaten a voice is that?" quoth the king, 
 " I think it's the voice of Ochiltrie. 
 
 " Call to me a' my gaolours, 
 
 Call them by thirtie and by thrie, 
 
 Wharefor the morn at twelve o'clock 
 It's hangit shall they ilkane be." 
 
 " didna ye send your keys to us ? 
 
 Ye sent them by thirtie and by thrie : 
 And wi' them sent a strait command, 
 
 To set at large young Ochiltrie." 
 
 " Ah ! na, fie ! na," quoth the queen, 
 " Fie, my dear luve ! this maunna be ; 
 
 And if ye're gawn to hang them a', 
 Indeed ye maun begin wi' me." 
 
 The tane was shippit at the pier of Lelth, 
 The ither at the Queensferi" j 
 
 And now the lady has gotten hir luve, 
 The winsom laird of Ochiltrie. 
 
 THE LAIRD OF LOGIE. 
 
 [From the Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border. 
 — " An edition of this ballad," says Sir Walter, 
 " is current, under the title of ' The Laird of 
 Ochiltrie;' but the editor has been fortunate 
 enough to recover the following more correct and 
 ancient copy, as recited by a gentleman residing 
 near Biggar. It agrees more nearly, both in 
 the name and in the circumstances, with the 
 real fact, than the printed ballad of Ochiltrie. 
 In the year 1592, Francis Stuart, earl of Both- 
 well, was agitating his frantic and ill-concerted 
 attempts against the person of James VI., 
 whom he endeavoured to surprise in the palace 
 of Falkland. Through the emulation and pri- 
 vate rancour of the courtiers, he found adherents 
 even about the king's person ; among whom, it 
 seems, was the hero of our ballad, whose history 
 is thus narrated in that curious and valuable 
 chronicle, of which the first part has been pub- 
 lished under the title of The Historie of King 
 James the Sext. — ' In this close tyme it fortunit, 
 that a gentleman, callit Weymis of Logye, being 
 also in credence at court, was delatit as a traffek- 
 ker with Frances erle Bothweil ; and he being 
 I examint before king and counsall, confessit his 
 accusation to be of veritie, that sundrie tymes he 
 had spokin with him, expresslieaganis the king's 
 inhibiticun proclamit in the contrare, whillt 
 confession he subscryvit with his hand; and be- 
 cause the event of this mater had sik a success, 
 it sail also be praysit be my pen, as a worthie 
 turne, proceiding from honest chest loove and 
 charitie, whilk suld on na wayis be obscurit from 
 the posteritie, for the gude example ; and there- 
 fore I have thought gude to insert the same for 
 a perpetual memorie. Queene Anne, our noble 
 princess, was servit with dyverss gentilwemen 
 v, of hir awin cuntrie, and naymelie with aue callit 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 109 
 
 Mres Margaret Twynstoun,* to whome this i 
 gentilman, Weymes of Logye, bare great honest 
 affect-on, tending to the godlie band of marriage, 
 the whilk was honestlie requy tet be the said gen- 
 tilwoman, yea evin in his greatest mister ; for 
 howsone she understude the said gentilman to be 
 in distress, and apperantlie be his confession to 
 be puneist to the death, and she having preve- 
 lege to ly in the queynis chalmer that same 
 verie night of his accusation, whare the king 
 was also reposing that same night, she came 
 furth of the dure prevelie, bayth the prencis 
 being then at quyet rest, and past to the chal- 
 mer, whare the said gentilman was put in custo- 
 die to certayne of the garde, and commandit 
 thayme that immediatelie he sould be broght to 
 the king and queyne, whareunto thay geving 
 sure credence, obeyit. But howsone she was 
 cum bak to the chalmer dur, she desyrit the 
 watches to stay till he sould cum furth agayne, 
 and so she closit the dur, and convoyit the gen- 
 tilman to a windo', whare she ministrat a long 
 corde unto him to convoy himself doun upon ; 
 and sa, be hir gude cheritable help, he happelie 
 escapit be the subteltie of love.' "] 
 
 I wii/l sing, if ye will harken, 
 
 If ye will harken unto me; 
 The king has ta'en a poor prisoner, 
 
 The wanton laird o' young Logie. 
 
 Toung Logie's laid in Edinburgh chapel; 
 
 Carmichael's the keeper o' the key ;| 
 And may Margaret's lamenting sair, 
 
 A' for the love of young Logie. 
 
 " Lament, lament na, may Margaret, 
 And of your weeping let me be ; 
 
 For ye maun to the king himsel', 
 To seek the life of young Logie." 
 
 May Margaret has kilted her green cleiding, 
 And she has curl'd back her yellow hair — 
 
 " If I canna get young Lrgie's life, 
 Fareweel to Scotland for evermair." 
 
 * Twynlace, according to Spottiswoode. 
 
 t Sir John Carmichael of Carmichael, the 
 hero of the ballad called the Raid of the Eeid- 
 swire, was appointed captain of the king's guard 
 in 1583, and usually had the keeping of state 
 criminals of rank. — Scott. 
 
 When she came before the king, 
 
 She knelit lowly on her knee — 
 " O what's the matter, may Margaret 
 
 And what needs a* this courtesie ?" 
 
 "A boon, a boon, my noble liege, 
 
 A boon, a boon, I beg o' thee ! 
 And the first boon that 1 come to crave, 
 
 Is to grant me the life of young Logie." 
 
 " O na, na, may Margaret, 
 
 Forsooth, and so it manna be ; 
 For a" the gowd o' fair Scotland 
 
 Shall not save the life of young Logie." 
 
 But she has stown the king's redding kaim, 
 Likewise the queen her wedding knife ; 
 
 And sent the tokens to Carmichael, 
 To cause young Logie get his life. 
 
 She sent him a purse o' the red gowd, 
 
 Another o' the white monie ; 
 She sent him a pistol for each hand, 
 
 And bade him shoot when he gat free. 
 
 When he came to the tolbooth stair, 
 
 There he let his volley flee ; 
 It made the king in his chamber start, 
 
 E'en in the bed where he might be. 
 
 " Gae out, gae out, my merrymen a', 
 And bid Carmichael come speak to me , 
 
 For I'll lay my life the pledge o' that, 
 That yon's the shot o' young Logie." 
 
 When Carmichael came before the king, 
 He fell low down upon his knee ; 
 
 The very first word that the king spake, 
 
 Was, " Where's the laird of young Logie ?' 
 
 Carmichael turn'd him round about, 
 
 (I wot the tear blinded his e'e) 
 " There came a token frae your grace, 
 
 Has ta'en away the laird frae me." 
 
 " Hast thou play'd me that, Carmichael ? 
 
 And hast thou play'd me that?" quoth he; 
 The morn the justice court's to stand, 
 
 And Logie's place ye rnaun supply." 
 
 Carmichael's awa' to Margaret's bower, 
 
 Even as fast as he may drie — 
 " if young Logie be within, 
 
 Tell him to come and speak with me !" 
 
110 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 May Margaret turned her round about, 
 (I wot a loud laugh laughed she) 
 
 " The egg is chipped, the bird is flown, 
 Ye'll see nae mair of young Logie." 
 
 The tane is shipped at the pier of Leith, 
 The tother at the Queen's Ferrie : 
 
 And she's gotten a father to her bairn, 
 The wanton laird of young Logie. 
 
 [" This ballad is founded upon a real event, 
 which took place in the north of Scotland, in the 
 year 1571, during the struggles between the 
 party which held out for the imprisoned Queen 
 Mary, and that which endeavoured to maintain 
 the authority of her infant son James VI. The 
 person here designated Kdom o' Gordon, was 
 Adam Gordon of Auchindown, brother of the 
 marquis of Huntly, and his deputy as lieutenant 
 of the north of Scotland for the queen. This 
 gentleman committed many acts of oppression 
 on the clan Forbes, under colour of the Queen's 
 authority ; and, in one collision with that family, 
 killed Arthur, brother to lord Forbes. He after- 
 wards sent a party, under one captain Car, or 
 Ker, to reduce the house of Towie, one of the 
 chief seats of the name of Forbes. The proprie- 
 tor of this mansion being from home, his lady, 
 who was pregnant at the time, confiding too 
 much in her sex and condition, not only refused 
 to surrender, but gave Car some very oppro- 
 brious language over the walls; which irritated 
 him so much, that he set fire to the house, and 
 burnt the whole inmates, amounting in all to 
 thirty-seven persons. As Gordon never cashiered 
 Car for this inhuman action, he was held by the 
 public voice to be equally guilty ; and accordingly 
 we here find a ballad in which he is represented 
 as the principal actor himself. Gordon, in his 
 History of the Family of Gordon, informs us 
 that, in the right old spirit of Scottish family 
 feud, the Forbesc-s afterwards attempted to 
 assassinate Gordon on the streets of Paris. 
 * Forbes,' he says, ' with these desperate fellows, 
 lay in wait, in the street through which he 
 was to return to his lodgings from the palace of 
 the Archbishop of Glasgow, then ambassador in 
 France. They discharged their pistols upon 
 Auchindown, as he passed by them, and wound- 
 
 ed him in the thigh. His servants pursued, but 
 could not catch them ; they only found by good 
 chance, Forbes's hat,in which was a paper with the 
 name of the place where they were to meet. John 
 Gordon, lord of Glenluce and Longormes, son to 
 Alexander Gordon, bishop of Galloway, lord of 
 the bedchamber to the king of France, getting 
 instantly notice of this, immediately acquainted 
 the king, who forthwith despatched le grand 
 prevost de I'hotel, or the great provost of the 
 palace, with his guards, in company with John 
 Gordon, and Sir Adam's servants, to the place 
 of their meeting to apprehend them. When 
 they were arrived at the place, Sir Adam's ser- 
 vants, being impatient, rushed violently into the 
 house, and killed Forbes; but his associates were 
 all apprehended, and broke upon the wheel.' 
 This dreadful incident would surely have made an 
 excellent second part to the ballad." — Chambers. 
 Edom of Gordon was first published by Lord 
 Hailes, from the recitation of a lady, at Glasgow, 
 1755, 12 pages, 4to. It was afterwards given by 
 Percy in his Reliques, with some alterations from 
 his old MS. Percy's copy is here followed.] 
 
 It fell about the Martinmas, 
 
 When the wind blew shrill and cauld, 
 
 Said Edom o' Gordon to his men, 
 " We maun draw to a hauld. 
 
 " And whatna hauld sail we draw to, 
 
 My merrie-men and me? 
 We will gae to the house o' Khodes, [Kothe.-] 
 
 To see that fair ladye." 
 
 She had nae sooner buskit hersel', 
 
 Nor putten on her goun, 
 Till Edom o' Gordon and his men 
 
 Were round about the toun. 
 
 They had nae sooner sitten doun, 
 
 Nor suner said the grace, 
 Till Edom o' Gordon and his men 
 
 Were closed about the place. 
 
 The ladye ran to her touir heid, 
 
 As fast as she could drie, 
 To see if, by her fair speeches, 
 
 She could with him agree. 
 
 As sune a-s he saw the ladye fair, 
 
 And hir yetts all lockit fast, 
 He fell into a rage of wrath, 
 } And his heart was aghast. 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 Ill 
 
 " Come down to me, ye ladye fair, 
 
 Come down to me, let's see ; 
 This nicht ye'se lie by my ain side, 
 
 The morn my bride sail be." 
 
 " I winna come doun, ye fause Gordon ; 
 
 I winna come doun to thee ; 
 I winna forsake my ain deir lord, 
 
 That is sae far frae me." 
 
 " Gi'e up your house, ye fair ladye, 
 
 Gi'e up your house to me ; 
 Or I will burn yoursel' therein, 
 
 But and your babies thrie." 
 
 " I winna gi'e 't up, thou fause Gordon, 
 
 To nae sic traitor as thee ; 
 Though thou suld burn mysel' therein, 
 
 But and my babies thrie. 
 
 " And ein wae worth you, Jock, my man ! 
 
 I paid ye weil your fee ; 
 Why pou ye out my grund-wa-stane, 
 
 Lets in the reek to me ? 
 
 " And ein wae worth ye, Jock, my man I 
 
 I paid ye weil your hyre ; 
 "Why pou ye out my grund-wa-stane, 
 
 To me lets in the fyre ?" 
 
 " Ye paid me weil my hire, lady, 
 
 Ye paid me weil my fee ; 
 But now I'm Edom o' Gordon's man, 
 
 Maun either do or die." 
 
 then bespake her youngest son, 
 
 Sat on the nurse's knee, 
 " Dear mother, gi'e ower your house," he says, 
 
 " For the reek it worries me." 
 
 " I winna gi'e up my house, my dear, 
 
 To nae sic traitor as he ; 
 Come weel, come wae, my jewel fair, 
 
 Ye maun tak' share wi' me." 
 
 then bespake her daughter deir ; 
 
 She was baith jimp and sma' ; 
 "0 row me in a pair o' sheets, 
 
 And tow me ower the wa'." 
 
 They rowed her in a pair o' sheets, 
 
 And towed her o wer the wa' ; 
 But on the point o' Edom's speir 
 
 She gat a deidly fa'. si 
 
 bonnie, bonnie, was her mouth, 
 
 And cherry were her cheiks ; 
 And cleir, cleir, was her yellow hair, 
 Whereon the reid blude dreips. 
 
 Then wi' his speir he turned her ower, 
 
 gin her face was wan ! 
 
 He said, " You are the first that eir 
 
 1 wist alyve again." 
 
 He turned her ower and ower again, 
 
 gin her skin was wbyte ! 
 He said, " I micht ha'e spared thy lyfe, 
 
 To been some man's delyte. 
 
 " Backe and boun, my merrie-men all, 
 For ill dooms I do guess; 
 
 1 canna luik on that bonnie face, 
 
 As it lies on the grass !" 
 
 " Them luiks to freits, my master deir, 
 Then freits will follow them ; 
 
 Let it ne'er be said brave Edom o' Gordon 
 Was dauntit by a dame." 
 
 O then he spied her ain deir lord, 
 
 As he came o'er the lea ; 
 He saw his castle in a fyre, 
 
 As far as he could see. 
 
 " Put on, put on, my michtie men, 
 
 As fast as ye can drie ; 
 For he that 's hindmost o' my men, 
 
 Sail ne'er get gude o' me." 
 
 And some they rade, and some they ran, 
 
 Fu' fast out ower the plain ; 
 But lang, lang, ere he could get up, 
 
 They a' were deid and slain. 
 
 But mony were the mudie men, 
 
 Lay gasping on the grene ; 
 For o' fifty men that Edom brought, 
 
 There were but fyve gaed hame. 
 
 And mony were the mudie men, 
 
 Lay gasping on the grene ; 
 And mony were the fair ladyes, 
 
 Lay lemanless at hame. 
 
 And round and round the wa's he went, 
 
 Their ashes for to view ; 
 At last into the flames he ran, 
 
 And bade the world adieu. 
 

 
 
 U2 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 %%z P«moE=Iobeic. 
 
 ^ She has taken up her two little babes, 
 Kiss'd them baith cheek and chin ; 
 
 
 ["This ballad, which contains some verses of 
 
 " fair ye weel, my ain two babes, 
 
 
 merit, was taken down from recitation by Mr 
 
 For I'll never see you again." 
 
 
 William Laidlaw, tenant in Traquair-knowe. It 
 
 
 
 contains a legend, which, in various shapes, is 
 
 She set her foot upon the ship, 
 
 
 current in Scotland. I remember to have heard 
 
 No mariners could she behold ; 
 
 
 a ballad, in which a fiend is introduced paying 
 
 But the sails were o' the taffetie, 
 
 
 his addresses to a beautiful maiden ; but discon- 
 
 And the masts o' the beaten gold. 
 
 
 certed by the holy herbs which she wore in her 
 
 
 
 bosom, makes the following lines the burden of 
 
 She had not sailed a league, a league, 
 
 
 his courtship : 
 
 A league but barely three, 
 
 
 ' Gin ye wish to be layman mine, 
 
 When dismal grew his countenance, 
 
 
 Lay aside the St John's wort and the vervain.' 
 
 And drumlie grew his e'e. 
 
 
 " The heroine of the following tale was unfor- 
 
 
 
 tunately without any similar protection." — Scott.] 
 
 The masts, that were like the beaten gold, 
 
 
 " where have you been, my long, long love, 
 
 This long seven years and mair ?" 
 "0 I'm come to seek my former vows 
 
 Bent not on the heaving seas; 
 But the sails, that were o' the taffetie, 
 Fill'd not in the east land breeze. 
 
 
 Ye granted me before." 
 
 They had not sailed a league, a league, 
 
 
 " hold your tongue of your former vows, 
 
 A league but barely three, 
 
 
 For they will breed sad strife ; 
 
 Until she espied his cloven foot, 
 
 
 hold your tongue of your former vows 
 
 And she wept right bitterlie. 
 
 
 For I am become a wife." 
 
 
 
 He turned'him right and round about, 
 
 " hold your tongue of your weeping," says he. 
 " Of your weeping now let me be; 
 
 
 And the tear blinded his e'e; 
 
 I will show you how the lilies grow 
 
 
 u I wad never ha'e trodden on Irish ground 
 
 On the banks of Italy." 
 
 
 If it had not been for thee. 
 
 
 " I might ha'e had a king's daughter, 
 Far, far beyond the sea; 
 
 " what hills are yon, yon pleasant hills, 
 That the sun shines sweetly on t" 
 
 
 I might have had a king's daughter, 
 
 "0 yon are the hills of heaven," he said, 
 
 
 Had it not been for love o' thee." 
 
 " Where you will never win." 
 
 
 "If ye might have had a king's daughter, 
 
 " whaten a mountain is yon," she said, 
 
 
 Yer sel' ye had to blame ; 
 
 " All so dreary wi' frost and snow ?" 
 
 
 Ye might have taken the king's daughter, 
 
 " yon is the mountain of hell," he cried, 
 
 
 For ye kend that I was nane." 
 
 " Where you and 1 will go." 
 
 
 " faulse are the vows of womankind, 
 
 And aye when she turn'd her round about, 
 
 
 But fair is their faulse bodie ; 
 
 Aye taller he seem'd for to be ; 
 
 
 I never wad ha'e trodden on Irish ground, 
 
 Until that the tops o' that gallant ship 
 
 
 Had it not been for love o' thee." 
 
 Hae taller were than he. 
 
 
 " If I was to leave my husband dear, 
 
 The clouds grew dark, and the wind grew loud, 
 
 
 And my two babes also, 
 
 And the levin filled her e'e ; 
 
 
 what have you to take me to, 
 
 And waesome wail'd the snow-white sprites 
 
 
 If with you 1 should go ?" 
 
 Upon the guriie sea. 
 
 
 " I ha'e seven ships upon the sea, 
 
 He strack the tap-mast wi' his hand, 
 
 
 The eighth brought me to land ; 
 
 The fore-mast wi' his knee ; 
 
 
 "With four-and-twenty bold mariners, 
 
 And he brake that gallant ship in twain, 
 
 
 And music on every hand." a 
 
 And sank her in the sea. 
 
 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 113 
 
 <Si! JS&odc*. 
 
 [Uitobr this head, we reprint here all that 
 Mr Motherwell has collected, In his Minstrelsy 
 Ancient and Modern, regarding the celebrated 
 ballad of Gil Morice. Besides giving the diffe- 
 rent versions of Percy, Jamieson, &c, accom- 
 panied with illustrative commentary, Mr Mother, 
 well publishes for the first time an ancient ditty 
 called " Child Noryce," which he was fortunate 
 enough to obtain from the singing of an old 
 woman in Paisley, and which he considers to be 
 the original or germ of Gil Morice. Altogether, 
 Mr Motherwell's collections and illustrations on 
 the subject of Gil Morice will be found to be 
 extremely complete and satisfactory.] 
 
 Of the many ancient ballads which have been 
 preserved by tradition among the peasantry of 
 Scotland, none has excited more interest in the 
 world of letters, than the beautiful and pathetic 
 tale of "Gil Morice;" and this, no less on ac- 
 count of its own intrinsic merits as a piece of 
 exquisite poetry, than of its having furnished the 
 plot of the justly celebrated tragedy of Douglas. * 
 It has likewise supplied Mr Langhorne with the 
 principal materials from which he has woven 
 the fabric of his sweet, though prolix poem of 
 " Owen of Carron;" and Mr Jamieson mentions 
 that it has also been "made the subject of a 
 dramatic entertainment with songs, by Mr Ren- 
 nie of Aberdeen." Perhaps the list could be 
 easily increased of those who have drawn their 
 inspiration from this affecting strain of Olden 
 Minstrelsy. 
 
 If any reliance is to be placed on the traditions 
 of that part of the country where the scene of 
 the ballad is laid, we will be enforced to believe 
 that it is founded on facts which occurred at 
 some remote period of Scottish History. The 
 " green wood" of the ballad was the ancient 
 forest of Dundaff in Stirlingshire, and lord Bar- 
 
 ^V nard's castle is said to have occupied a precipi- 
 1 tous cliff overhanging the water of Carron, on 
 the lands of Halbertshire. A small burn which 
 joins the Carron, about five miles above these 
 lands, is named the Earlsburn, and th2 hill near 
 the source of that stream, is called the Earlshill, 
 both deriving their appellations, according to the 
 unvarying traditions of the country, from the un- 
 fortunate Erie's son who is the hero of the bal- 
 lad, f He, also, according to the same respecta- 
 ble authority, was " beautiful exceedingly," and 
 especially remarkable for the extreme length and 
 loveliness of his yellow hair which shrouded him, 
 as it were a golden mist. To these floating tra- 
 ditions, we are probably indebted for the at- 
 tempts which have been made to improve and 
 embellish the ballad, by the introduction of 
 various new stanzas since its first appearance in a 
 printed form. 
 
 Of the early printed editions of this ballad, the 
 editor has been unable to procure any copy.* In 
 Percy's Reliques, it is mentioned that it had run 
 through two editions in Scotland, the second of 
 which appeared at Glasgow in 1755, 8vo.; and 
 that to both there was prefixed an advertisement, 
 setting forth, that the preservation of the poem 
 
 of the 
 
 another hill : 
 
 • -"When this tragedy was oriirinnllv produced at 
 Edinburgh in 1/56, the title of the heroine was Lady 
 Barnard : the alteration to Lady Randolph was made 
 on its being transplanted to London." It was acted 
 in Covent GarJea in 1757. Biographia Draiaauca, . 
 Vol. II. p. 175. < 
 
 t "It has been thought," says the write 
 Statistical account ot St Xinians, " though it cannot 
 be certainly determined, that the Earl's burn, the Earl's 
 hill, a hill and rivulet in the mnirland part of the 
 parish, derived their names from the residence of 
 some feudal baron or earl in the neighbourhood of the 
 natural to suppose, that Gillies hill, 
 the muirland part of the parish, de- 
 rives its name from the name Gill or Gilles. The 
 names both ot Gilles and Morrison occur in the muir- 
 lands. It is certain, that the fair lady, mother of Gil 
 Morice, 'lived on the Carronside.' This union of facts 
 and probabilities suggests to the imagination, though 
 it cannot persuade the judgment, that this pari>h was 
 the scene of the tragical song, known by the name of 
 Gil Morice." — Statistical Account of Scotland, Vol. 
 XVIII. p. 392. If the reverend author, instead of 
 stringing together his facts and probabilities, had con- 
 sulted some of the ancient sybils who were his pari>h- 
 ioners in that quarter, upon the subject, be would have 
 arrived at more certainty in his deductions. 
 
 % Since writing this, he has been kindly favoured 
 by Mr David Laing of Edinburgh, with an edition, 
 which, though it has neither place, date, nor printer's 
 name, may, from its title, be considered as toe first 
 Edinburgh edition, and printed probably in 1756. The 
 title is given at length. '• Gill Morice an Ancient Scots 
 Poem. The foundation of the Tragedy, calle.l Douglas, 
 as it is now acted in the Concert- hall, Canongne." 
 Except some slight variations in orthography, and in 
 its omitting the 16 additional verses which are men- 
 tioned by bishop Percy as having been suosequently 
 added to the ballad, there is no other material diffe- 
 rence between this edition aud that which is repiint- 
 'edin the Reliques. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 Hj. SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 was owing "to a lady who favoured the printers-; 
 
 ^ It was nae for his great riches, 
 
 
 
 with a copy, as it was carefully collected from 
 
 Nor zet his mickle pride ; 
 
 
 
 the mouths of old women and nurses," and re- 
 
 Hot it was for a lady gay,f 
 
 
 
 questing " that any reader who could render it 
 
 That liv'd on Carron side. 
 
 
 
 more perfect and complete, would oblige the 
 
 
 
 
 public with such improvements." This was 
 
 " Quhair sail I get a bonnle boy, 
 
 
 
 holding out too tempting a bait not to be greedi- 
 
 That will win hose and shoen ; 
 
 
 
 ly snapped at by some of those " ingenious 
 
 That will gae to lord Barnard's ha', 
 
 
 
 hands" who have con upted the purity of legen- 
 
 And bid his lady cum ? 
 
 
 
 dary song 'a Scotland, by manifest forgeries and 
 
 
 
 
 gross impositions. .Accordingly, sixteen addi- 
 
 " And ze maun rin my errand, "Willie, 
 
 
 
 tional verses soon appeared in manuscript, which 
 
 And ze may rin wi' pride ; 
 
 
 
 the editor of the Reliques has inserted in their 
 
 Quhen other boys gae on their foot, 
 
 
 
 proper places, though he rightly views them in 
 
 On horseback ze sail ride." 
 
 
 
 no better light than that of an ingenious inter- 
 
 
 
 
 polation. Indeed, the whole ballad of " Gil 
 
 " no ! no ! my master dear ! 
 
 
 
 Morice," as the writer of the present notice has 
 
 1 dare nae for my life ; 
 
 
 
 been politely informed by the learned and ele- 
 
 I'll no gae to the bauld barons, 
 
 
 
 gant edit rot the Border Minstrelsy, underwent 
 
 For to triest furth his wife." 
 
 
 
 a total revisal, about the period when the trage- 
 
 
 
 
 dy of Douglas was in the zenith of its popularity, 
 
 " My bird Willie, my boy Willie, 
 
 
 
 and this improved copy, it seems, embraced the 
 
 My dear Willie," he say'd: 
 
 
 
 ingenious interpolation above referred to. In- 
 
 " How can ze strive against the stream ? 
 
 
 
 dependent altogether of this positive informa- 
 
 For 1 sail be obeyed." 
 
 
 
 tion, any one familiar with the state in which 
 
 
 
 
 traditionary poetry has been transmitted to the 
 
 " Bot, my master dear '." he cry'd, 
 
 
 
 present times, can be at no loss to detect many 
 
 " In grene wod ze're your lain ; 
 
 
 
 mort " ingenious interpolations,' as well as para- 
 
 Gi owre sic thochts, 1 wald ze rede, 
 
 
 
 phrases additions in the ballad as now printed. 
 
 For fear ze should be tain." 
 
 
 
 But though it has been grievously corrupted in 
 
 
 
 
 this way, the most scru; ulous inquirer into 
 
 " Haste, haste, I say gae to the ha', 
 
 
 
 the authenticity of ancient song can have no 
 
 Bid hir cum here wi' speid ; 
 
 
 
 hesitation in admitting, that many of its verses, 
 
 If ze refuse my heigh command, 
 
 
 
 even as .they now stand, are purely traditionary, 
 
 I'll gar zour body bleid. 
 
 
 
 and fair, and genuine parcels of antiquity, un- 
 
 
 
 
 alloyed with any base admixture of modern in- 
 
 " Gae bid hir take this gay mantel, 
 
 
 
 vention, and in no wise altered, save in those 
 
 'Tis a' gowd bot the hem ; 
 
 
 
 changes of language, to which all oral poetry is 
 
 Bid hir cum to the gude grene wode, 
 
 
 
 unavoidably subjected in its progress from one 
 
 And bring nane bot hir lain; 
 
 
 
 age to another. For the gratification of the 
 
 
 
 
 general reader, and for the apter illustration of 
 
 " And there it is, a silken sarke, 
 
 
 
 the more ancient and less vitiated sets of the 
 
 Hir ain hand sewd the sleive; 
 
 
 
 ballad which follow, an accurate reprint of the 
 
 And bid hir cum to Gil Morice, 
 
 
 
 copy which occurs in " Percy's Reliques" is now 
 given. 
 
 Speir nae bauld barons leave. 
 
 
 | f The stall copies of the ballad complete the 
 
 
 GIL MORICE.* 
 
 ; stanza thus: 
 
 His (ace was fair, lan» was his hair, 
 In the wild woods he s-taid; 
 
 
 
 Gil Morice was an erle's son, 
 
 , But his fame was for a fair lady 
 
 
 
 His name it waxed wide; 
 
 That lived on Carronside. 
 j Which is no injudicious interpolation, inasmuch 
 
 
 
 
 * The acknowledged interpolated portions of 
 
 as it is founded upon the traditions current 
 
 
 
 this set are distinguished by being enclosed in 
 
 among the vulgar, regarding Gil Morice's comely 
 
 
 
 brackets. \ 
 
 } face and long yellow hair. 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 115 
 
 
 " Yes I will gae your black errand, ^ The lady stamped wi' hir foot, 
 
 
 
 Though it be to zour cost; 
 
 And winked wi' hir e'e ; 
 
 
 
 Sen ze by me will nae be warn'd, 
 
 Bot a' that she coud say or do, 
 
 
 
 In it ze sail find frost. 
 
 Forbidden he wad nae bee. 
 
 
 
 " The baron he is a man of might, 
 
 " Its surely to my bow'r-woman, 
 
 
 
 He neir could bide to taunt; 
 
 It neir could be to me." 
 
 
 
 As ze will see before its nicht, 
 
 " I brocht it to lord Barnard's lady, 
 
 
 
 How srna' ze ha'e to vaunt. 
 
 I trow that ze be she." 
 
 
 
 " And sen I maun zour errand rin, 
 
 Then up and spack the wylie nurse, 
 
 
 
 Sae sair against my will ; 
 
 (The bairn upon hir knee;) 
 
 
 
 Ise niak' a vow and keip it trow, 
 
 " If it be cum frae Gil Morice, 
 
 
 
 It sail be done for ill." 
 
 It's deir welcum to mee." 
 
 
 
 And quhen he came to broken brigue, 
 
 " Ze leid, ze leid, ze filthy nurse. 
 
 
 
 He bent his bow and swam ; 
 
 Sae loud I heiid ze lee; 
 
 
 
 And quhen he came to grass growing, 
 
 I brocht it to lord Barnard's lady, 
 
 
 
 Set down his feet and ran. 
 
 I trow ze be nae shee." 
 
 
 
 And quhen he came to Barnard's ha', 
 
 Then up and spack the bauld baron, 
 
 
 
 Would neither chap nor ca'; 
 
 An angry man was hee ; 
 
 
 
 Bot set his bent bow to his breist,* 
 
 He's tain the table wi' his foot, 
 
 
 
 And lichtly lap the wa'. 
 
 Sae has he wi' his knee ; 
 Till siller cup and mazerf dish, 
 
 
 
 He wauld nae tell the man his errand, 
 
 In flinders he gard flee. 
 
 
 
 Though he stude at the gait ; 
 
 
 
 
 Bot straight into the ha' he cam', 
 
 " Gae bring a robe of zour eliding, 
 
 
 
 Quhair they were set at meit. 
 
 That hings upon the pin ; 
 And I'll gae to the gude grene wode, 
 
 
 
 " Hail ! hail ! my gentle sire and dame ! 
 
 And speik wi' zuur lemman." 
 
 
 
 My message winna waite ; 
 
 
 
 
 Dame ze maun to the gude grene wod, 
 
 " bide at hame, now lord Barnard, 
 
 
 
 Before that it be late. 
 
 I warde ze hide at hame ; 
 Keir wyte a man for violence, 
 
 
 
 "Ze're bidden tak' this gay mantel, 
 
 That neir wate ze wi' nane." 
 
 
 
 'Tis a' gowd bot the hem; 
 
 
 
 
 Zou maun gae to the gude grene wode, 
 
 Gil Morice sate in gude grene wode, 
 
 
 
 Ev'n by yoursel' alaue. 
 
 He whistled and he sang: 
 " what means a" the folk coming, 
 
 
 
 " And there it is a silken sarke, 
 
 My mother tarries lang." 
 
 
 
 Your ain hand sewd the sleive; 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 Ze maun gae speik to Gil Morice, 
 
 [His hair was like the threeds of gold 
 
 
 
 Speir nae bauld barons leave." 
 
 Drawne lrae Minerva's loome; 
 His lipps like rcses drapping dew, 
 His breath was a' perfume. 
 
 
 
 
 * This line, the stall copies give thus: 
 
 
 
 
 " But bent his bow to liis white breast," 
 
 His brow was like the mountain sna, 
 Gilt by the morning beam ; 
 
 
 
 A reading very expressive of the action meant to 
 
 His cheeks like living roses glow: 
 
 
 
 be described, and which, if correct, would render 
 
 His een like azure stieam. 
 
 
 
 nugatory all Mr Jamieson's arguments upon a 
 
 
 
 
 
 similar passage, in another ballad, to prove that, 
 
 j f i. e. A drinking cup of maple; other edit 
 
 
 
 instead of bent, we should substitute brent . £ 
 
 5 read ezar. — Percy. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 HO SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 
 The boy was clad in robes of greene, ii 
 
 Sweete as the infant spring ; 
 And like the mavis on the bush, 
 
 He gart the vallies ring.] 
 
 \ And she has tain her Gil Morice, 
 
 And kissed baith mouth and chin; 
 I was once as fuu of Gil Morice, 
 As the hip is o' the stean. 
 
 
 
 The baron came to the grene wode, 
 Wi' uiickle dule and care; 
 
 And there he first spied Gil Morice, 
 Kameing his zellow hair : 
 
 " I got ze in my father's house, 
 Wi' mickle sin and shame; 
 
 I brocht thee up in gude green wode, 
 Under the heavy rain. 
 
 
 
 [That sweetly wav'd around his face, 
 That face beyond compare ; 
 
 He sang sae sweet, it might dispel 
 A' rage, but fell dispair.] 
 
 "Oft have I by thy cradle sittcn, 
 And fondly seen thee sleep ; 
 
 Bot now I gae about thy grave, 
 The saut tears for to weep." 
 
 
 
 "Nae wonder, nae won ler, Gil Morice, 
 
 My lady loved thee weel ; 
 The fairest part of my bodie, 
 
 Is blacker than thy heel. 
 
 And syne she kissed his bluidy cheik, 
 And syne his bluidy chin : 
 "0 better I lo'e my Gil Morice, 
 Than a' my kith and kin !" • 
 
 
 
 " Zet neir the less now Gil Morice, 
 For a' thy great beautie, 
 
 Zes rew the day zs eir was born, 
 That head sail gae wi' me." 
 
 " Away, away, ze ill woman, 
 And an ill death mait ze dee; 
 
 Gin I had kend he'd bin zour s.m, 
 He'd neir bin slain for mee." 
 
 
 
 Now he has drawn his trusty brand, 
 And slaited on the straw; ; * 
 
 And thr.mgh Gil Morice fair body. 
 He's gar cauld iron gae. 
 
 "Obraid me not, my lord Barnard! 
 
 Obraid me not for shame ! 
 Wi' that same s-peir, pierce my heart: 
 
 And put me out o' pain. 
 
 
 
 And he has tain Gil Morice bead, 
 
 And set it on a speir; 
 The meanest man in a' his train 
 
 Has gotten that head to bear. 
 
 "Since nothing bot Gil Morice head, 
 Thy jealous rage could quell; 
 
 Let that saim hand now tak' hir life, 
 That neir to thee did ill. 
 
 
 
 And he has tain Gil Morice up, 
 
 Laid him across his steid, 
 And brocht him to his parated bcrwr, 
 
 And laid him on a bed. 
 
 " To me nae after days nor nichtn, 
 Will ere be saft or kind ; 
 
 I'll fill the air with heavy sighs, 
 And greet till 1 am blind." 
 
 
 
 The lady sat on the castil wa', 
 Beheld baith dale and down ; 
 
 And there she saw Gil Morice head, 
 Cum trailing to the town. 
 
 "Enouch of blood by me's bin spilt, 
 Seek not zour death frae mee ; 
 
 I rather iourd it had been mysel', 
 Than eather him or thee. 
 
 
 
 " Far better I love that bluidy head, 
 Bot, and that zellow hair, 
 
 Than lord Barnard, and a' his lands, 
 As they lig here and thair." 
 
 " With waefo wae I hear zour plaint; 
 
 Sair, sair I rew the deid, 
 That eir this cursed hand of mine, 
 
 Had gard his body bleid. 
 
 " Dry up zour tears my winsome dame, 
 
 Ze neir can heal the wound; 
 Ze see his head upon the speir, 
 y His heart's blude on the ground. 
 
 
 * This line, to get at its meaning, should be 
 printed, " And slait it on the strae." Mr Pin- 
 kerton has a most ridiculous gloss on this pas- 
 sage in his " Tragic Ballads." ^ 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. ] 1 7 
 
 
 " I curse the hand that did the deid, $> werei from which the text e « Gil Morice" was 
 
 
 
 The heart that thocbt the ill; , 
 
 selected, likewise proves that the editor of the 
 
 
 
 The feet that bore me wi' sik speid, 
 
 Reliques was perfectly coirect when he stated 
 
 
 
 The comely youth to Kill. 
 
 that the ballad was current in Scotland, under 
 the very title which the present copy bears, viz. 
 
 
 
 "Ill ay lament for Gil Morice, 
 
 
 
 
 As gin he were mine ain ; 
 
 CHIELD MORICE.f 
 
 
 
 I'll neir forget the dreiry day, 
 
 
 
 
 On which the zouth was slain."* 
 
 Chield Morice was an earl's son, 
 His name it waxed widei 
 
 
 
 In the shape which it now bears, the fore- 
 
 It was nae for his parentage, 
 
 
 
 going ballad must be considered as one whose 
 
 Nor yet his meikle pride; 
 
 
 
 text has been for.r.ed out of various sets com- 
 
 But it was for a lady gay, 
 
 
 
 bined by the taste, and in all likelihood mate- 
 
 That lived on Carron side. 
 
 
 
 rially eked out by the invention, of the editor of 
 
 
 
 
 1755. The worthy and useful class of " old 
 
 " Willie, my man, rny errand gang, 
 
 
 
 women and nurses," from whose mouths it is 
 
 And you maun rin wi' speed; 
 
 
 
 s*ated to be carefully taken, has not entirely 
 
 "When other boys rin on their feet, 
 
 
 
 disappeared , but it would defy the most un- 
 
 On horseback ye shall ride." 
 
 
 
 wearied and persevering industry, to obtain 
 
 
 
 
 from their lips, in this lay, any duplicate of the 
 
 " master dear I love you weel, 
 
 
 
 present copy which could, by unexceptionable 
 
 And I love you as my life ; 
 
 
 
 evidence, be traced to a period anterior to the 
 
 But I will not gae to lord Barnard's ha', 
 
 
 
 date of the first edition. The scene of wire- 
 
 For to tryst forth his wife. 
 
 
 
 drawn recrimination between lord Barnard and 
 
 
 
 
 his lady, which is quite out of keeping with the 
 
 " For the baron he's a man of might, 
 
 
 
 character of the " bold baron," is of itself quite 
 
 He ne'er could bide a taunt; 
 
 
 
 enough to convince any one versant in this 
 
 And ye shall see or it be late, 
 
 
 
 species of literature, that it has come through 
 
 How meikle ye'il ha'e to vaunt." 
 
 
 
 the refining hands of a modern ballad wright. 
 
 
 
 
 In this opinion, the present writer does not 
 
 " O you must rin my errand, Willie, 
 
 
 
 stand singular, for both Mr Ritson and Mr 
 
 And you maun rin wi' speed ; 
 
 
 
 Jamieson agree in rejecting as spurious, the 
 
 And if you don't otey my hie command, 
 
 
 
 stanzas which follow after the one beginning 
 
 I'll gar your body bleed. 
 
 
 
 " Awa', awa' ye ill woman." 
 
 " And here it is a gay manteel, 
 
 
 
 And the opinion of these critics in such a ques- 
 
 Its a' gowd bot the hem ; 
 
 
 
 tion, is certainly entitled to much deference. 
 
 Bid her come speak to Chield Morice, 
 
 
 
 But, fortunately for those desirous of fixing 
 
 Bring nae body but her lane. 
 
 
 
 the genuineness of traditionary poetry, the opin- 
 
 
 
 
 ion now expressed does not rest for its accuracy 
 
 " And here it is a Holland smock, 
 
 
 
 on mere conjecture. In the course of his inqui- 
 
 Her ain hand sewed the sleeve ; 
 
 
 
 ries on this subject, the editor received from the 
 
 Bid her come speak to Chitld Morice, 
 
 
 
 recitation of an old woman, a copy, which, while 
 
 Ask not the baron's leave." 
 
 
 
 it confirms that opinion, and affords a fair speci- 
 men of what the sets of the ballad probably 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 f This was the title given by the old woman 
 herself. She is now 70 years of age, and the bal- 
 
 
 
 
 * It may he proper to mention, that other 
 
 lad in question she learned in her infancy from 
 
 
 
 copies read the 2nd line of stanza 27 thus, 
 
 her grandmother. She mentions that at a later 
 
 
 
 Shot frae the golden sun, 
 
 period of her life she also committed to memory 
 " Gil Morice," which began with young lasses 
 
 
 
 And in stanza 28, as follows, 
 
 like her to be a greater favourite, and move fash- 
 
 
 
 His eeD like azure sheeue. — Percy. { 
 
 '-j ionable than the set which her grandmother and 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
118 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 " Since I must rin this errand for you, 
 
 Sae sair against my will ; 
 I've made a vow, and I'll keep it true, 
 
 It shall be done for ill." 
 
 For he did not ask the porter's leave, 
 Though he stood at the pate ; 
 
 But straight he ran to the big hall, 
 "Where great folk sat at meat. 
 
 " Good hallow gentle sir and dame, 
 
 My errand canna wait; 
 Dame ye must gae speak to Chield Moriee, 
 
 Before it be too late. 
 
 "And here it is a gay manteel, 
 
 Its a' gowd but the hem ; 
 Ye must come speak to Chield Moriee, 
 
 Bring nae body but your lane. 
 
 " And here it is a Holland smock, 
 ^ Your ain hand sewed the sleeve; 
 You must come speak to Chield Moriee— 
 Ask not the baron's leave." 
 
 Oh aye she stamped wi' her foot, 
 
 And winked wi' her e'e, 
 But for a' that she c uld say or do, 
 
 Forbidden he wadna be. 
 
 "It's surely to my bouir-woman, 
 
 It canna be to me." 
 "1 brocht it to lord Barnard's lady, 
 
 And I trow that thou art she." 
 
 Out then spak' the wylie nurse, 
 Wi' the bairn just on her knee, 
 
 " If this be come from Chield Moriee, 
 It's dear welcome to me." 
 
 ''Thou lies, thou lies, thou wylie nurse 
 
 Sae loud's I hear thee lie, 
 I brocht it to lord Barnard's lady, 
 
 And I trow thou binna she." 
 
 Then up and rose him the bold baron, 
 
 And an angry man was he; 
 He took the table wi' his foot, 
 
 And keppd it wi' his knee, 
 Till silver cup and eEar dish 
 
 In Hinders they did flee. 
 
 other old f,,lks used to sing under the title of 
 Chield Moriee." 
 
 "Go bring me one of thy cleidiug 
 
 That hings upon the pin, 
 And I'll awa' to the gude green wood, 
 
 And crack wi' your leman." 
 
 "I would have you stay at hame, lord B;; 
 nard, 
 
 I would have you stay at hame ; 
 Never wyte a man for violence done 
 
 That never thocht you wrang." 
 
 And when he to the green wood went, 
 
 Nobody saw he there, 
 But Chield Moriee on a milk-white sited, 
 
 Combing down his yellow hair. 
 
 Chield Moriee sat in the gay green wood, 
 
 He whistled and he sang ; 
 " O what means a' thir folk coming ? 
 
 My mother tarries lang." 
 
 "No wonder, no wonder, Chield Moriee 
 he said, 
 
 "My hidy loved thee weel, 
 For the whitest bit of my body 
 
 Is blacker than thy heel. 
 
 " But nevertheless now, Chield Moriee, 
 
 For a' thy gay beautie ; 
 Oh nevertheless now, Chield Moriee, 
 
 Thy head shall go with me." 
 
 He had a rapier by his side, 
 
 Hung low down by his knee; 
 He struck Chield Moriee on the neck, 
 
 Till aff his head did flee. 
 
 Then he's ta'en up that bluidy head, 
 
 And stuck it on a spear, 
 And the meanest man in a' his train 
 
 Gat Chield Moriee head to bear. 
 
 The lady look'd owre the castle wa', 
 
 Wi' muckle dule and down,* 
 And there she saw Chield Moriee head. 
 
 Coming trailing to the town. 
 
 So recited, the word down must here be con- 
 sidered as signifying a presentiment of coming 
 evil. (?Ha;re-wbetber does this line, or the cor- 
 responding one in Gil Moriee, preserve the right 
 W, reading ? 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 119 
 
 But he's ta'en up this bluidy head, 
 
 And dash'd it 'gainst the wa' ; 
 " Come down, come down, you ladies fair, 
 
 And play at this footba' !" 
 
 Then she's ta'en up this bluidy head, 
 And she kiss'd it baith cheek and chin ; 
 
 " 1 would rather ha'e ae kiss o' that bluidy 
 head, 
 Than a' thy earldom. 
 
 " I got him in my father's bower, 
 
 Wi' meikle sin and shame ; 
 And I brocht him up in the gay greenwood, 
 
 Beneath the heavy rain. 
 
 " Many a day have I rock'd thy cradle, 
 
 And fondly seen thee sleep ; 
 But now I'll gang about thy grave, 
 
 And sair, sair will I weep." 
 
 " O woe be to thee, thou wild woman, 
 
 And an ill deid may thou die; 
 For if ye had tauld me he was your son, 
 
 He should ha'e ridden and gane wi" me." 
 
 " O hold your tongue, you bold baron, 
 
 And an ill deid may thou die ; 
 He had lands and rents enew of his ain, 
 
 He needed nane frae thee." 
 
 "Then I'll curse the hand that did the 
 deed, 
 
 The heart that thocht him ill. 
 The feet that carried me speedilie, 
 
 This comely youth to kill." 
 
 This lady she died gin ten o' the clock, 
 Lord Barnard he died gin twal'; 
 
 And bonnie boy, now sweet Willie, 
 "What's come o' him I canna tell. 
 
 Besides the foregoing, there seems to have 
 been another version of this ballad at one time 
 known, three stanzas of which, being all that he 
 was able to recover, Mr Jamieson has given in 
 . his " Notes on Childe Maurice." These stanzas 
 are said to be the beginning and end of the 
 piece. They are as follows 
 
 " Gil Morris sat in Silver wood. 
 
 He whistled and he sang; 
 Where sail 1 get a bonnie boy, 
 
 My errand for to gang. 
 
 " He's ca'd his foster brither, Willie, 
 
 ' Come win ye hose and shoon, 
 And gae unto lord Barnard's ha', 
 
 And bid his lady come.' 
 
 "And she has ta'en the bloody head, 
 
 And cast it i' the brim, 
 Syne gatherd up her i obes of green, 
 
 And fast she followed him." 
 
 The set of the ballad to which these verses be- 
 long, the editor has been at some pains to re- 
 cover ; but in this respect, he has been equally 
 unfortunate with Mr Jamieson. He has been 
 informed, however, by Mr Sharpe, that the 
 above fragment is incorporated in an Annandale 
 version of the ballad, which also ingrafts a novel 
 feature on the story, inasmuch as it is wound up 
 by making the ghost of the slain youth appear to 
 his mother, between whom, a colloquy, some- 
 what in the vein of May Margaret's discourse 
 with the spirit of Clerk Saunders, takes place ; 
 and then, agreeably to established use and wont, 
 after such an interview, she follows the noiseless 
 footsteps of the beloved shade, and expires on ihe 
 spot where it is resolved into " thin air." 
 
 The precise form in which the ballad was 
 known to the author of " Douglas," cannot now 
 be ascertained. From the circumstance of the 
 catastrophe of the above fragment, and that of 
 the tragedy agreeing with each other,* Mr 
 Jamieson fancies it probable, that it may have 
 been part of the traditionary version followed by 
 Mr Home. The present editor has been polittly 
 informed by Sir Walter Scott, that he had, at 
 different times, inquired of the late Mr Home con- 
 cerning the ballad on which his poem was sup- 
 posed to be founded, but without success, owing 
 to the then impaired state of the venerable dra- 
 matist's memory. 
 
 At rather an early period, the ballad, some- 
 what differing, it must be confessed, from any 
 copy known to exist in Scotland, appears to 
 have been also popular in the north of England: 
 and indeed with it, as with many more, it might 
 be difficult to say to which country it of right 
 exclusively belongs. This is the set of the ballad 
 
 • The discrepancy in this particular, between the 
 common edition of the ballad and the tragedy »t 
 Douglas, has been prettily supphed by s 
 verse maker, who ? e delectable continu 
 ia^ to six star"- * h " "■*■«"*• reader will hi.d printed 
 anions Mr Ja 
 
 Able 
 table continuation, extend 
 the curious reader will ( 
 
 Childe Maurice. 
 
I» 
 
 
 
 
 120 SCOTTISH 
 
 BALLADS. 
 
 
 to which Dr Percy refers, as occurring in his^ 
 
 & & there I send her a ring of gold 
 
 
 
 folio MS., under the title of " Childe Maurice;" 
 
 a ring of precyous stone 
 
 
 
 and it has been printed by Mr J^mieson in his 
 
 and bid her come to the silver wood. 
 
 
 
 collection from that MS. with minute fidelity, 
 
 let for no kind of man ; 
 
 
 
 who thereby hath conferred no si all favour on 
 
 
 
 
 the lovers of ancient song. As it is not only a 
 
 one while this litle boy he yode 
 
 
 
 curious version withal, but likewise peculiarly 
 
 another while he ran 
 
 
 
 illustrative, both of the sets which have gone 
 
 until he came to John Steward's hal) 
 
 
 
 before, and of that one which gives a title to 
 
 1 wis he never blan 
 
 
 
 this prolix argument; it is to be hoped that no 
 
 
 
 
 apology will be necessary for presenting it here 
 
 and of nurture the child had good 
 
 
 
 to the reader, more especially as the valuable 
 
 he ran up hall & bower ffree 
 
 
 
 collection, from which it is extracted, hath not 
 
 and when he came to this lady fijurci 
 
 
 
 been so well received by the world as its merits 
 
 sayes God you save and see 
 
 
 
 deserve. 
 
 I am come ffrom Childe Maurice 
 
 
 
 CHILDE MAURICE. 
 
 a message unto thee 
 
 & Childe Maurice he greets you well 
 
 
 
 Childe Maurice hunted ithe silven wood* 
 
 & ever soe well ffrom me 
 
 
 
 he hunted it round about 
 
 
 
 
 & noebody y l he found theren 
 
 and as it ffalls out oftentimes 
 
 
 
 nor noebody without 
 
 as knotts been knitt on a kell 
 
 or merchant men gone to leeve London 
 
 
 
 and tooke his silver combe in his hand 
 
 either to buy or sell 
 
 
 
 to kembe his yellow lockes 
 
 & as oftentimes he greetes you well 
 
 
 
 he sayes come hither thou litle foot page 
 
 as any hart can thinke 
 
 
 
 y l runneth lowly by my knee 
 
 or schoolemaster in any schoole 
 
 
 
 ffor thou shalt goe to John Steward's wiffe 
 
 wryting W u pen and inke 
 
 
 
 & pray her speake w tlx mee 
 
 
 
 
 & as it ff.ills out many times 
 
 & heere he sends a mantle of greene 
 
 
 
 as knotts been knitt on a kell 
 
 or merchantmen gone to leeve London 
 
 either to buy ware or Bell 
 
 as greene as any grasse 
 
 & he bidds you come to the silver wood 
 
 to hunt w k " child Maurice 
 
 
 
 and grete thou doe y ladye well 
 
 & heere he sends you a ring of gold 
 
 
 
 ever so well ffroe mee 
 
 a ring of precyous stone 
 
 he prayes you to come to the silver wood 
 
 
 
 and as it ffalls out many times 
 
 let for no kind of man 
 
 
 
 as any haite can thinke 
 
 
 
 
 as sehoole masters are in any schoole house 
 
 now peace, now peace, thou litle fotpago 
 
 
 
 writting with pen and inke 
 
 ffor Christe's sake 1 pray thee 
 
 ffor if my Lo heare one of those words 
 
 
 
 ffor if I might as well as shee may 
 
 thou must be hanged hye 
 
 
 
 this night I wold w LU her speake 
 
 John Steward stood under the castle wall 
 
 
 
 & heere I send a mantle of greene 
 
 & he wrote the words every one 
 
 
 
 as greene as any grasse 
 
 
 
 
 and bid her come to the silver woodf 
 to hunt w " Childe Maurice. 
 
 & he called unto his horsse keeper 
 make ready you my steede 
 
 
 
 
 and soe he did to his Chamberlaine 
 
 
 
 * Silven, sic in MS. + Silver wood, sic in MS. ^ 
 
 ■-, make readme then my weed 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
SCOTTISH BALLAD.? 
 
 121 
 
 & he cast a lease upon his baeke 
 & he rode to the silver wood 
 & there he sought all about 
 about the silver wood 
 
 fc there he found him Child Maurice 
 sitting vpon a blocke 
 w ch a silver combe in his hand 
 kernbing his yellow locke 
 
 he saves how now how now Child Maurice 
 alacke how may this bee 
 but then stood by him Child Maurice 
 &c sayd these words trulye 
 
 I do not know your ladye he said 
 if that I do her see 
 ffor thou hast sent her lore tokens 
 more now then 2 or 3 
 
 for thou hast sent her a mantle of grcene 
 as greene as any grasse 
 & bade her come to the silver wood 
 to hunt w th Childe Maurice 
 
 and by my faith now Childe Maurice 
 the tane of us shall dye 
 now by my troth sayd Childe Maurice 
 & that shalj not be 1 
 
 but he pulled out a bright browne sword 
 & dryed it on the grasse 
 & soe fast he smote at John Steward 
 I wis he never rest 
 
 then hee pulled forth his bright browne sword 
 & dryed itt on his sleeve 
 
 & the ffirst good stroke John Steward stroke 
 Child Maurice head he did cleeve 
 
 & he pricked it on his sword's poynt 
 went singing there beside 
 and he rode till he came to the ladye ffaire 
 whereas his ladye lyed 
 
 ar i saves dost thou know Child Maurice head 
 
 iff that thou dost it see 
 
 and llap it soft, and kisse itt rfft 
 
 ffor thou lovedst him better than mee 
 
 but when shee looked on Childe Maurice head 
 
 shee never spake words but three 
 
 I never beare noe childe but one 
 
 and you have slain him trulye 36 
 
 sayes wicked be my merry men all 
 1 gave meate drink and clothe 
 but cold they not have hulden me 
 when I was in all that wrath 
 
 ffor I have slaine one of the courteousest knights 
 that ever betrode a ste;de 
 soe have I done one of the fairest ladyes 
 that ever were womans weede 
 
 "What has gone before, forms a fit introduc- 
 tion to the very ancient traditionary ballad on 
 the same subject, which is now for the first time 
 printed. With much deference to the opinion 
 of others skilled in these matters, the editor has 
 "to challenge for it in point of antiquity, a prece- 
 dence far above any of its fellows: indeed, in his 
 judgment, it has every appearance of being the 
 prime root, from which all the variations of the 
 ballad heretofore known have originated. 
 
 In this place, it may be remarked too, that it 
 obviously preserves the true title of the ballad, 
 " Moriee" and " Maurice" being evident corrup- 
 tions of " Norice," a nursling, or foster, corrup- 
 tions which from similarity of sound in the enun- 
 ciation, can easily be conceived as like.y ones 
 into which reciters, who learn by the ear, are ex- 
 ceedingly apt to fall; and corruptions of which 
 the experience of every one who has attempted 
 to collect these interesting munuments of early 
 song, can furnish ample parallels. -Again, its 
 clear, straight-forward, rapid and succinct nar- 
 rative — its extreme simplicity of style and utter 
 destitution of all ornament, argue most power- 
 fully in behalf of the primitiveness and authen- 
 ticity of its text. It is, in fact the very anatomy 
 ofa perfect ballad, wanting nothing that itshould 
 have, and having nothing that it should want. 
 By testimony of a most unexceptionable descrip- 
 tion — but which it would be tedious here to de- 
 tail — the editor can distinctly trace this ballad as 
 existing in its present shape, at least a century 
 ago, which carries it decidedly beyond the date of 
 the first printed copy of Gil Moriee; and this 
 with a poem which has been preserved but by 
 oral tradition, is no mean positive antiquity. If 
 we imagine it a more ancient version than that 
 contained in Dr Percy's MS., our sole means of 
 arriving at a satisfactory conclusion must be de- 
 rived from such internal evidence as the ballad 
 itself affords; and, both versions being now be- 
 fore the reader, he is enabled to judge deliberate- 
 ly for himself, and to form his own opinion, on 
 that which many will, ere this, I suspect, have 
 deemed a very unimportant subject. 
 
122 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS 
 
 In conclusion, it may be mentioned, that the ^ 
 ballad is exceedingly rare; and, so far as the edi- 
 tor has been able t j learn, it has escaped the no- 
 tice of our most eminent collectors of traditionary 
 poetry. This may be ascribed to the refined and 
 ornate paraphrase of Gil Morice, having sup- 
 planted it in the affections of the vulgar, in the 
 same way as the poem of " Sir James the Rose," 
 attributed to the pen of Michael Bruce, hath ab- 
 sorbed, almost entirely, the memory of the old 
 ballad on which it is founded. 
 
 CHILD NORYCE. 
 
 Child Noryce is a clever young man, 
 
 He wavers wi' the wind; 
 His horse was silver shod before, 
 
 With the beaten gold behind. 
 
 Ho called to his little man John, 
 
 Saying, " You don't see what I see; 
 
 For oh yonder 1 see the very first woman, 
 That ever loved me. 
 
 " Here is a glove, a glove," he said, 
 
 " Lined with the silver grey; 
 You may tell her to come to the merry green 
 wood. 
 
 To speak to child Nory. 
 
 " Here is a ring, a ring," he says, 
 
 " Its all gold but the stane; 
 You may tell her to come to the merry green 
 wood, 
 
 And ask the leave o' nane." 
 
 "So well do 1 love your errand, my master, 
 
 But far better do I love my life ; 
 O would ye have me go to Lord Barnard's 
 castel, 
 
 To betray away h:s wife ?" 
 
 * That the reader may have no room to doubt 
 the genuineness of a ballad for which a very high 
 antiquity is claimed, the editor thinks it right to 
 mention, that it is given verbatim as it was 
 taken down from the singing of widow M'Cor- 
 mick, who, at this date, (January, 1825,) resides 
 in Westbrae Street of Paisley. ( 
 
 " don't I give you meat," he says, 
 
 " And don't 1 pay you fee? 
 How dare you stop my errand," he says, 
 
 "My orders you must obey." 
 
 Oh when he came to Lord Barnard's castel, 
 
 He tinkled at the ring; 
 "Who was as ready as Lord Barnard himself, f 
 
 To let this little boy in. 
 
 " Here is a glove, a glove," he says, 
 
 " Lined with the silver grey ; 
 You are bidden to come to the merry green 
 
 To speak to Child Nory. [wood, 
 
 "Here is a ring, a ring," he says, 
 
 " Its all gold but the stane : 
 You are bidden to come to the merry green 
 wood, 
 
 And ask the leave o' nane." 
 
 Lord Barnard he was standing by, 
 
 And an angry man was he : 
 " Oh, little did I think there was a lord in this 
 world, 
 
 My lady loved but me I" 
 
 Oh he dressed himself in the holland smocks, 
 
 And garments that was gay ;£ 
 And he is away to the merry green wood, 
 
 To speak to Child Nory. 
 
 Child Noryce sits on yonder tree 
 
 He whistles and he sings; 
 " O wae be to me," says Child Noryce, 
 
 " Yonder my mother comes '." 
 
 Child Noryce he came off the tree, 
 His mother to take off the horse; 
 
 " Och, alace, alace," says Child Noryce, 
 My mother was ne'er so gross." 
 
 f This unquestionably should be Lady Bar- 
 nard, instead of her Lord, see 3d stanza under; 
 but as it was so recited, this obvious error the 
 editor did not conceive himself warranted to cor- 
 rect, more especially as he has found it out of his 
 power to obtain another copy of the ballad from 
 any different quarter. 
 
 I This ballad more distinctly than either Gil 
 Morice or Chield Morice, announces the disguise 
 resorted to by Lord Barnard, in order to surprise 
 his supposed rival. 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 123 
 
 Lord Barnard he had a little small sword, 
 That hung low down by his knee ; 
 
 He cut the head off Child Noryce, 
 And put the body on a tree. 
 
 And when he came to his eastel, 
 
 And to his lady's hall, 
 He threw the head into her !ap, 
 
 Saying, '* lady, there is a bail !" 
 
 She turned up the bloody head, 
 She kissed it frae cheek to chin ; 
 
 " Far better dc I love this bloody head. 
 Than all my royal kin. 
 
 " "When I was in my father's castell. 
 
 In my virginitie; 
 There came a lord into the north, 
 
 Gat Child Noryce with me." 
 
 " O wae be to thee, lady Margaret," he sa 
 " And an ill death may you die ; 
 
 For if you had told me he was your son, 
 He had ne'er been slain by me." 
 
 >d*woie. 
 
 [A fragment, in imitation of the old Scottish 
 Ballad.— By Richard Gall.] 
 
 Am' wiel they baitht her bluidy face, 
 
 An' syne her bosom bare; 
 But 0, her salt an' bonnie skin 
 
 Bespak' sum lady faire. 
 
 Her blinkand e'e was schut in dethe, 
 
 (Quhilk anes was fu' o' glie,) 
 An" clay-cauld war her rosie lips, 
 
 (Quhi.k spak' sae tenderlie.) 
 
 An* mony ane cam' thair, I trow, 
 
 Quha did the tithings heir; 
 An' aye as they luiket on her bonnie face, 
 
 Wi' sorro' drapt a teir. 
 
 n heavin ! it brekes my very hairt, 
 
 A face sae sweit to see ! 
 But sure, sith nane a meith doth kna, 
 
 0' fremit bluid she be." 
 
 Sir Kenneth, knycht o' meikle fame, 
 
 Luikt owre his castle wa' ; 
 An' downe anethe the hingand heugh 
 
 The gathert thrang he sa' : 
 
 An' lang he ferlit at the sicht, 
 
 An' sair he raxit his ein ; 
 Syne hastecit fra his castle hie, 
 
 An' to the howe bedein. 
 
 " Quhat meins this thrang ? Quhat m 
 this mane 
 
 Amang baith yung an' aid ?" 
 Syne he luiklt at the deid lady, 
 
 Lay on the yird sa cald. 
 
 The warrior shuke — O sair he shuke !— 
 Furth sprang the glitterand teir: 
 
 " O Chryste ! Chryste ! it is Helenore I 
 It is my dochter deir !" 
 
 l&img JMwm $r jlk <MMw, 
 
 [From Buchan's Northern Ballads.] 
 
 There ance liv'd a king in fair Scotland, 
 King Malcolm called by name; 
 
 Whom ancient history gives record, 
 For valour, worth, and fanie. 
 
 And it fell ance upon a day, 
 
 The king sat down to dine ; 
 And then he miss'd a favourite knight, 
 
 Whose name was Sir Colvin. 
 
 But out it speaks another knight, 
 
 Ane o' Sir Colvin's kin ; 
 " He's lyin' in bed right sick in love, 
 
 All for your daughter Jean." 
 
 " O waes me," said the royal king, 
 
 " I'm sorry for the same; 
 She maun take bread and wine sae red, 
 
 Give it to dir Colvin." 
 
 Then gently did she bear the bread, 
 Her page did carry the wine; 
 
 And set a table at his bed, — 
 *' dir Colvin, rise and dine." 
 
124 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 " O well love I the wine, lady, 
 Come frae your lovely hand ; 
 
 But better love 1 your fair body, 
 Than ail fair Scotland's strand.* 
 
 " O hold your tongue now, Sir Colvin, 
 
 Let all your folly be ; 
 My love must be by honour won, 
 
 Or nan? shall enjoy me. 
 
 " But on the head o' Elrick's hill, 
 Near by yon sharp hawthorn, 
 
 Where never a man with life e'er came 
 Sin' cur sweet Christ was bora ; 
 
 " O ye'll gang there and walk a' night, 
 And boldly blaw your horn ; 
 
 With honour that ye do return, 
 Ye'll marry me the morn." 
 
 Then up it raise him, Sir Colvin, 
 And dress'd in armour keen; 
 
 And he is on to Elrick's hill, 
 Without iight o' the meen. 
 
 At midnight mark the meen upstarts, 
 The knight walk'd up and down; 
 
 While loudest cracks o' thunder roar'd, 
 Out ower the bent sae brown. 
 
 Then by the twinkling of an e'e, 
 He spied an armed knight ; 
 
 A fair lady bearing his biand, 
 Wi*. torches burning bright. 
 
 Then he cried high as he came nigh, 
 "Coward, thief, I bid you flee ! 
 
 There is not ane comes to this hill, 
 But must, engage wi" me. 
 
 " Te'll best take road before I come, 
 And best take foot and flee; 
 
 Here is a sword baith sharp and broad, 
 Will quaiter you in three." 
 
 Sir Colvin said, " I'm not afraid 
 
 Of any here X see; 
 You ha'e not ta'en your God before, 
 
 Less dread ha'e X o' thee." 
 
 Sir Colvin then he drew bis sword, 
 
 His foe he drew his brand; 
 A.nd thpy fought there on Elrick's hill 
 
 Till they were bluidy men. 
 
 Si The first an' stroke the knigtt he strake, 
 Ga'e Co'v : n a slight wound ; 
 The nezt an' stroke Lord Colvin stTake, 
 Brought s foe ua'x the ground. 
 
 "I yield, I yiel-V the knight he said, 
 
 '■ X fairly yield to thee ; 
 Nae ane cazv.e e'er to Kiriek-hill 
 
 E'er gaiu'd such victorie. 
 
 " I and my forbears here did haunt 
 Tnree hundred years and more; 
 
 I'm safe to swear a solemn oath, 
 We were never beat before." 
 
 " An asking," said the lady gay, 
 " An asking ye".l grant ine." 
 
 " Ask on, ask on," said Sir Colvin, 
 " What may your asking be ?" 
 
 " Ye'll gi'e me haroe my wounded knight, 
 
 Let me fare on my way ; 
 And I'se ne'er be seen on Elrick's hill, 
 
 By night, not yet by day. 
 And to this p'ace we'll come nae mair. 
 
 Could we win safe a way. 
 
 " To trouble any Christian one 
 
 Lives in the righteous law ; 
 We'li come nae mair unto this plac 
 
 Could we win safe awa'." 
 
 " O ye'se get hame your wounded knight- 
 
 Ye shall not gang alane ; 
 But I maun ha'e a word o' him, 
 
 Before that we twa twine." 
 
 Sir Colvin being a book-learn'd man, 
 
 Sae gude in fencing tee; 
 He's drawn a stroke behind his hand, 
 
 And followed in speedilie. 
 
 Sae fierce a stroke Sir Colvin's drawn, 
 
 And followed in speedilie; 
 The knight's brand, and sword hand, 
 
 In the air he gar'd them flee. 
 
 It flew sae high into the sky, 
 And lighted on the ground; 
 
 The rings that were on tliese fingers, 
 Were worth five hundred pound. 
 
 Up he has ta'en that bluidy hand, 
 
 Set it before the king; 
 And the morn it was Wednesday, 
 
 When he married his daughter Ji:.a. 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 125 
 
 ITouwg ftiMn. 
 
 [From Buchan's Ancient Ballads and Songs. 
 — " In some late publications," says Mr Buchan, 
 " 1 have seen fragments of this beautiful ballad 
 under various names. — It is now for the first 
 time given in a complete state. The ballad is, 
 to all appearance, very old ; and agrees with the 
 romantic history and times of Fergus II. It will 
 be considered by all lovers of Scottish song, as a 
 great acquisition to their store of traditionary 
 poetry. The heroine lady Margaret, a king's 
 daughter, was stolen by her father's cup-bearer, 
 who built for her a bower, in which she was so 
 artfully confined, that no one could have dis- 
 covered the place of her residence. In this 
 bower, she bare to her adopted husband seven 
 sons, the oldest of whom was the means of re- 
 leasing her from her dreary abode. On his arrival 
 at the court of his grandfather, whither he had 
 gcr.e to reconnitre, the old monarch at once per- 
 ceived such a family likeness in the face of this 
 woodland boy, as made him inquire after the 
 fate of his long lost daughter. She, with the 
 rest of her sons, arrived at her father's palace; 
 and, like the prodigal, or long lost son, was 
 welcomed with joy and gladness. The ballad 
 concludes with the pardon of Young Akin, — his 
 reception at the king's court, and the baptism of 
 the children."] 
 
 Lady Margaret sits in her bower door 
 
 Sewing at her silken seam ; 
 She heard a note in Elmond's-wood, 
 
 And wish'd she there had been. 
 
 She loot the seam fa' frae her side, 
 
 And the needle to her tae; 
 And she is on to Elmond's-wood 
 
 As fast as she could gae. 
 
 She hadna pu'd a nut, a nut, 
 
 Nor broken a branch but ane, 
 Till by it came a young hind chiel, 
 
 Says, " Lady lat alane. 
 
 " O why pu' ye the nut, the nut, 
 
 Or why brake ye the tree; 
 For 1 am forester o' this wood, 
 
 Ye should spier leave at me ?" < 
 
 " I'll ask leave at nae living man, 
 
 Nor yet will 1 at thee ; 
 My father is king o'er a' this realm, 
 
 This wood belongs to me." 
 
 She hadna pu'd a nut, a nut, 
 Nor broken a bianch but three, 
 
 Till by it came him young Akin, 
 And gar'd her let them be. 
 
 The highest tree in Elmond's-wood, 
 
 He's pu'd it by the reet ; 
 And he has built for her a bower 
 
 Near by a hallow seat. 
 
 He's built a bower, made it secure 
 
 Wi' carbuncle and stane; 
 Though travellers were never sae nigh 
 
 Appearance it had nane. 
 
 He's kept her there in Elmond's-wood, 
 
 For six lang years and one; 
 Till six pretty sons to him she bear, 
 
 And the seventh she's brought home. 
 
 It fell ance upon a day, 
 
 This guid lord went from home; 
 And he is to the hunting gane, 
 
 Took wi' him his eldest son. 
 
 And when they were on a guid way, 
 
 Wi' slowly pace did walk ; 
 The boy's heart being something wae, 
 
 He thus began to talk : — 
 
 " A question I would ask, father, 
 
 Gin ye wouldna angry be." 
 " Say on, say on, my bonnie boy, 
 
 Ye'se nae be quarrell'd by me." 
 
 " I see my mother's cheeks aye weet, 
 
 I never can see them dry ; 
 And I wonder what aileth my mother 
 
 To mourn continually." 
 
 *' Your mother was a king's daughter, 
 
 Sprung frae a high degree; 
 And she might ha'e wed some worthy priu.ee, 
 
 Had she not been stown by me ; 
 
 " I was her father's cup-bearer, 
 
 Just at that fatal time; 
 I catch'd her on a misty n'ght, 
 
 Whan summer was in prime; 
 

 126 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 " My luve to her was most sincere, 4 
 
 Her luve was great for me , 
 But when she hardships doth endure, 
 
 Her folly she does see." 
 
 > He ga'e the first to the proud porter, 
 And he open'd an' let him in; 
 He ga'e the next to the butler boy, 
 And he has shown him ben ; 
 
 " I'll shoot the buntin* o' the bush, 
 
 The linnet o' the tree, 
 And bring them to my dear mither, 
 
 See if she'll merrier be." 
 
 He ga'e the third to the minstrel 
 That play'd before the king; 
 
 And he play'd success to the bonnie boy 
 Came through the wood him lane. 
 
 It fell upo' another day, 
 
 This guid lurd he thought lang, 
 And he is to the hunting gane, 
 
 Took wi' him his dog and gun ; 
 
 Now when he came before the king. 
 Fell low down en his knee; 
 
 The king he turned round about, 
 And the saut tear blinded his e'e. 
 
 Wi' bow and arrow by his side, 
 
 He's aff, single, alane ; 
 And left his seven children to stay 
 
 Wi' their mither at hame. 
 
 '' Win up, win up, my bonnie boy, 
 Gang frae my companie; 
 
 Ye look sae like my dear daughter, 
 My heart will birst in three." 
 
 "01 will tell to you, mither, 
 
 Gin ye wadna angry be." 
 " Speak on, speak on, my little wee boy, 
 
 Ye'se nae be quarrell'd by me." 
 
 "If I look like your dear daughter, 
 
 A wonder it is none ; 
 If I look like your dear daughter, — 
 
 I am her eldest son." 
 
 "As we came frae the hynd hunting, 
 We heard fine music ring," 
 
 " My blessings on you, my bonnie boy, 
 I wish I'd been there my lane." 
 
 " Will ye tell me, ye little wee boy, 
 Where may my Margaret be ?" 
 
 " She's just now standing at your yatee, 
 And my six brothers her wi'." 
 
 He's ta'en his mither by the hand, 
 
 His six brothers also, 
 And they are on through Elmond's-wood, 
 
 As fast as they could go ; 
 
 " where are all my porter boys 
 
 That I pay meat and lee, 
 To open my yates baith wide and braid ? 
 
 Let her come in to -me/ 
 
 They wistna weel where they were gaen, 
 Wi' the stratlins o' their feet; 
 
 They wistna weel where they were gaen 
 Till at her father's yate. 
 
 When she came in before the king, 
 Tell low down on her knee : 
 
 " Win up, win up, my daughter dear, 
 This day ye'll dine wi' me." 
 
 "I ha'e nae money in my pocket, 
 But royal rings ha'e three; 
 
 I'll gi'e them you, my little young son, 
 And ye'll walk there for me; 
 
 " Ae bit I canno' eat, father, 
 
 Nor ae drop can I drink, 
 Till 1 see my mither and sister dear ; 
 
 For lang for them I think." 
 
 "Ye'll gi'e the first to the proud porter, 
 
 And he will let you in ; 
 Ye'll gi'e the next to the butler boy, 
 
 And he will show you ben ; 
 
 i When she came before the queen, 
 Fell low down on her knee : 
 " Win up, win up, my daughter dear, 
 This day ye'se dine wi' me." 
 
 "Ye'll gi'e the third to the minstrel 
 
 That plays before the king; 
 He'll play success to the bonnie boy, 
 
 Came through the wood him lane." ^ 
 
 " Ae bit I canno' eat, mither, 
 Nor ae drop can I drink, 
 1 Until I see my dear sister, 
 f For lang for her I think." 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 127 
 
 
 ■When that these two sisters met, & " We ha'e lived in guid green wood 
 
 
 
 She hail d her eourteouslie : 
 
 This seven years and ane; 
 
 
 
 " Come ben, come ben, my sister dear, 
 
 But a' this time since e'er 1 mind, 
 
 
 
 This day ye'se dine wi' me." 
 
 Was never a church within." 
 
 
 
 " Ae bit I canno' eat, sister, 
 
 " Your asking's nae sae great, my boy, 
 
 
 
 Nor ae drop can I drink, 
 
 But granted it shall be ; 
 
 
 
 Until I see my dear husband, 
 
 This day to guid church ye shall gang, 
 
 
 
 For lang for him I think." 
 
 And your mither shall gang you wi'." 
 
 
 
 " where are all my rangers bold, 
 
 When into the guid church she came, 
 
 
 
 That I pay meat and fee, 
 
 She at the door did stan' ; 
 
 
 
 To search the forest far an' wide, 
 
 She was sae sair sunk down wi' shame, 
 
 
 
 To bring Akin to me?" 
 
 She couldna come farer ben. 
 
 
 
 Out it speaks the little wee boy,— 
 
 Then out it speaks the parish priest, 
 
 
 
 "Na, na, this maunna be; 
 
 And a sweet smile ga'e he ; — 
 
 
 
 Without ye grant a free pardon, 
 
 " Come ben, come ben, my lily flower, 
 
 
 
 I hope yell nae him see." 
 
 Present your babes to me." 
 
 
 
 " here I grant a free pardon, 
 
 Charles, Yincent, Sam, and Dick, 
 
 
 
 Well seal'd by my own han'; 
 
 And likewise James and John ; 
 
 
 
 Ye may make search for young Akin, 
 
 They call d the eldest Young Akin, 
 
 
 
 As soon as ever you can." 
 
 Which was his father's name. 
 
 
 
 They search'd the country wide and braid, 
 
 Then they staid in the royal court, 
 
 
 
 The forest tar and near ; 
 
 And liv'd wi' mirth and glee; 
 
 
 
 And found him into Elmond's-wood, 
 
 And when her father was deceas'd, 
 
 
 
 Tearing his yellow hair. 
 
 Heir of the crown was she. 
 
 
 
 " Win up, win up, now young Akin, 
 
 
 
 
 Win up and boun wi" me; 
 
 
 
 
 We're messengers come from the court, 
 
 
 
 
 The king wants you to see." 
 
 Mosse tj&e Mtto anfo WfltyiU 
 
 
 
 " let him take frae me my head, 
 
 ffiillg. 
 
 
 
 Or hang me on a tree; 
 
 
 
 For since I've last my dear lady, 
 
 
 
 Life's no pleasure to me." 
 
 [First published in the Minstrelsy of the 
 
 
 
 " Your head will nae be touch'd, Akin, 
 
 Scottish Border.—" This legendary tale," says 
 
 
 
 Nor hang'd upon a tree ; 
 
 Sir Walter, " is fuven chiefly from Mrs Brown's 
 
 
 
 Your lady's in her father's court, 
 
 MS. Accordingly many of the rhymes arise 
 
 
 
 And all he wants is thee." 
 
 from the northern mode of pronunciation ; as 
 dee for do, and the like. — Perhaps the ballad 
 
 
 
 When he came in before the king, 
 
 may have originally related to the history of the 
 
 
 
 Fell low down on his knee. 
 
 celebrated Robin Hood, as mention is made of 
 
 
 
 " Win up, win up, now young Akin, 
 
 Barnisdale, his favourite abode."] 
 
 
 
 This day ye'se dine wi' me." 
 
 Ros". the Red, and White Lilly, 
 
 
 
 But as they were at dinner set, 
 
 Their mother dear was dead : 
 
 
 
 The boy asked a boun ; 
 
 And their father has married an ill wo- 
 
 
 
 " I wish we were in the good church, 
 
 man, 
 
 
 
 For to get Christendoun ; ^ 
 
 } Wished them twa little guid. 
 
 
 
 

 128 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 1 
 
 
 But she had twa as gallant sons ( 
 
 As ever brake man's bread; 
 And the tane <V them lo ed her, White Lilly, 
 
 And the tother Rose the Red. 
 
 h cutted ha'e they their green cloathing, 
 A little abune their knee; 
 And sae ha'e they their yellow hair, 
 A little abune their bree. 
 
 
 
 bigged ha'e they a bigly bour, 
 
 Fast by the roaring strand; 
 And there was mair mirth in the ladye3' 
 
 Nor in a' their father's land. [bour, 
 
 And left ha'e they that bonnie bour, 
 
 To cross the raging sea; 
 And they ha'e ta'en to a holy chapel, 
 
 Was christened by Our Ladye. 
 
 
 
 But out and spak' their step-mother, 
 As she stood a little forebye — 
 
 " I hope to live and play the prank, 
 Sail gar your loud sang lie." 
 
 And they ha'e changed their twa names, 
 
 Sae far frae ony toun ; 
 And the tane o' them's hight Sweet Willie, 
 
 And the tother's Rouge the Rounde. 
 
 
 
 She's call'd upon her eldest son ; 
 
 " Cum here, my son, to me : 
 It fears me sair, my bauld Arthur, 
 
 That ye maun sail the sea." 
 
 Between the twa a promise is, 
 And ti:ey ha'e sworn it to fulfil ; 
 
 AVbenever the tane blew a bugle-horn, 
 The tother suld cum her till. 
 
 
 
 " Gin sae it rraun b>, my deir mother, 
 Your bidding 1 maun dee; 
 
 But, be never waur to Rose the Red, 
 Than ye ha'e been to me." 
 
 Sweet Willie's gane to the king's court, 
 
 Her true love for to see ; 
 And Rouge the Rounde to gude grene-wood, 
 
 Brown Robin's man to be. 
 
 i 
 
 
 She's called upon her youngest son ; 
 
 " Cum here, my son, to me: 
 It fears me sair, my Brown Robin, 
 
 That ye maun sail the sea." 
 
 it fell anes, upon a time, 
 They putted at the stane ; 
 
 And seven foot ayont them a', 
 Brown Robin's gar'd it gang. 
 
 
 
 " Gin it fear ye sair, my mother deir, 
 
 Your bidding I sail dee; 
 But, be never waur to White Lilly, 
 
 Than ye ha'e been to me." 
 
 She lifted the heavy putting-stane, 
 And gave a sad " hon !" 
 
 Then out besj.ake him, Brown R.,bin, 
 " But that's a woman's moan !" 
 
 
 
 " Now haud your tongues, ye foolish boys! 
 
 for small sail be their part; 
 Thej ne'er again sail see your face. 
 
 Gin their very hearts suld break." 
 
 " O kent ye by my rosy lips ? 
 
 Or by my yellow hair ; 
 Or kent ye by my milk-white breast. 
 
 Ye never yet saw bare/" 
 
 
 
 Sae bauld Arthur's gane to our king's court, 
 
 His hie cha berlain to be ; 
 But Lirown Robin, he has slain a knight, 
 
 And to grene-wood he did flee. 
 
 " I kent na by your rosy lips, 
 
 Nor by your yellow hair ; 
 But, cum to your bour whaever likes, 
 
 They'll find a ladye there." 
 
 
 
 When Rose the Red, and White Lilly, 
 
 Saw their twa loves were gane, 
 Sune di I they drop the loud loud sang, 
 . TeOk up the still mourning. 
 
 " gin ye come my bour within, 
 Through fraud, deceit, or guile, 
 
 Wi' thi3 same brand, that's in my hand, 
 I vow I will thee kill." 
 
 
 
 And out then spake her 'White Lilly; 
 
 " My sister, we'll be gane : 
 Why suld we stay in Barnisdale, 
 
 To mourn our bour within ?" i 
 
 "Yet durst I cum into your bour, 
 And ask nae leave," quoth he ; 
 "And wi' this sane brand, that's in my hand, 
 & Wive danger back on thee." 
 
 
 
 
 I 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 129 
 
 About the dead hour o' the night, 
 
 The ladye's bour was broken ; 
 And, about the first hour o' the day, 
 
 The fair knave bairn was gotten. 
 
 When days were gane and months were 
 The ladye was sad and wan ; [come, 
 
 And aye she cried for a bour woman, 
 For to wait her upon. 
 
 Then up and spake him, Brown Robin, 
 " And what needs this ?" quoth he; 
 
 " Or what can woman do for you, 
 That canna be done by me ?" 
 
 "'Twas never my mother's fashion," she said, 
 
 " Nor shall it e'er be mine, 
 That belted knights should e'er remain 
 
 "While ladyes dree'd their pain. 
 
 " But gin ye take that bugle-horn, 
 
 And wind a blast sae shrill, 
 I ha'e a brother in yonder court 
 
 Will come me quickly till." 
 
 " O gin ye ba'e a brother on earth, 
 
 That ye lo'e mair than me, 
 Ye may blow the horn yoursel'," he says, 
 
 " For a blast I winna gi'e." 
 
 She's ta'en the bugle in her hand, 
 And blawn baith loud and shrill; 
 
 Sweet William started at the sound, 
 And came her quickly till. 
 
 up and starts him, Brown Robin, 
 
 And swore by Our Ladye, 
 "No man shall come into this bour, 
 
 But first maun fight wi' me." 
 
 O they ha'e fought the wood within, 
 
 Till the sun was going down ; 
 And drops o' blcod, frae Rose the Red, 
 
 Came pouring to the ground. 
 
 She leant her back against an aik, 
 
 Said, — " Robin, let me be: 
 For it is a ladye, bred and born, 
 
 That has fought this day wi' thee." 
 
 O seven foot he started back, 
 
 Cried — " Alas and woe is me ! 
 For I wished never, in all my life, 
 
 A woman's bluid to see : 
 
 "And that all for the knightly vow 
 
 I swore by Our Ladye; 
 But mair for the sake o' ae fair maid, 
 
 Whose name is White Lilly." 
 
 Then out and spake her, Rouge the Rounde, 
 
 And leugh right heartilie, 
 " She has been wi' ye this year and mair, 
 
 Though ye wistna it was she." 
 
 Now word has gane through all the land, 
 
 Before a month was gane, 
 That a forester's page in gude grene-wood, 
 
 Had born a bonnie son. 
 
 The marvel gaed to the king's court, 
 
 And to the king himsel* ; 
 " Now, by my fae," the king did say, 
 
 " The like was never heard tell !" 
 
 Then out then spake him, Bauld Arthur, 
 And laugh'd right loud and hie — 
 
 "I trow some may has play'd the lown, 
 And fled her ain countrie." 
 
 " Bring me my steid !" the king gan say; 
 
 My bow and arrows keen ; 
 And I'll gae hunt in yonder wood, 
 
 And see what's to be seen." 
 
 " Gin it please your grace," quoth Bauld Ar- 
 " My liege I'll gang you wi', [thur, 
 
 And see gin I can meet a bonnie page, 
 That's stray'd awa' frae me." 
 
 And they ha'e chased in gude grene-wood, 
 
 The buck but and the rae, 
 Till they drew near Brown Robin's bour, 
 
 About the close o' day. 
 
 Then out and spake the king himsel*, 
 
 Says — " Arthur, look and see, 
 Gin yon be not your favourite page, 
 
 That leans against yon tree." 
 
 O Arthur's ta'en a bugle-horn, 
 
 And blawn a blast sae shrill; 
 Sweet Willie started to her feet, 
 
 And ran him quickly till. 
 
 " wanted ye your meat, Willie, 
 
 Or wanted ye your fee ? 
 Or gat ye e'er an angry word, 
 
 That ye ran awa' frae me ?'' 
 
130 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 " I wanted nought, my master dear; ^ 
 To me ye aye was good : j 
 
 I cam' to see my ae brother, 
 
 That wons in this grene-wood." 
 
 ! Then in and came him, Brown Robin, 
 Frae hunting o' the king's deer, 
 But when he saw the king himsel', 
 He started back for fear. 
 
 Then out bespake the king again, — 
 " My hoy, now tell to me, 
 
 Who dwells into yon bigly bour, 
 Beneath yon green aik tree ?" 
 
 The king has ta'en Robin by the hand, 
 And bade him nothing dread, 
 
 But quit for aye the gude grene-wood, 
 And come to the court wi' speed. 
 
 " pardon me," said Sweet Willie, 
 
 " My liege, I darena tell; 
 And gang nae near yon outlaw's bour 
 
 For fear they suld ye kill." 
 
 The king has ta'en White Lilly's son , 
 And set him on his knee ; 
 
 Says, " Gin ye live to wield a brand, 
 My bowman thou sail be." 
 
 " haud your tongue, my bonnie hoy ! 
 
 For I winna be said nay; 
 But I will gang yon bour within, 
 
 Betide me weal or wae." 
 
 Then they have ta'en them to the holy cbapellt, 
 
 And there had fair wedding ; 
 And when they cam' to the king's court, 
 
 For joy the bells did ring. 
 
 They have lighted frae their milk-white steids, 
 
 And saftlie entered in ; 
 And there they saw her, White Lilly, 
 
 Nursing her bonnie young son. 
 
 ROSE THE RED AND WHITE LILL1E. 
 
 " Now, by the mass," the king he said, 
 
 " This is a cnmely sight;' 
 I trow, instead of a forester's man, 
 
 This is a lady bright!" 
 
 [The following version of " Rose the Red and 
 White Lilly" is from Buchan's Ballads of the 
 North. It differs materially from the one given 
 in Scott's Minstrelsy.] 
 
 O out and spake her, Rose the Red, 
 And fell low on her knee : — 
 
 " pardon us, my gracious liege, 
 And our story 1*11 tell thee. 
 
 Now word is gane through a' the land, 
 Gude seal that it sae spread ! 
 
 To Rose the Red and White Lillie, 
 Their mither dear was dead. 
 
 " Our father is a wealthy lord, 
 
 Lives into Barnisdale; 
 But we had a wicked step-mother, 
 
 That wrought us meikle bale. 
 
 Their father's married a bauld woman, 
 And brought her ower the sea; 
 
 Twa sprightly youths, her ain young sone, 
 Intill her companie. 
 
 " Yet had she twa as fu' fair sons, 
 
 As e'er the sun did see ; 
 And the tane o' them lo'ed my sister deir, 
 
 And the tother said he lo'ed me." 
 
 They fix'd their eyes on those ladies, 
 On shipboard as they stood, 
 
 And sware, if ever they wan to land, 
 These ladies they would wed. 
 
 Then out and cried him, Bauld Arthur, 
 
 As by the king he stood, — 
 " Now, by the faith of my body, 
 
 This suld be Rose the Red I" 
 
 But there was nae a quarter past, 
 A quarter past but three, 
 
 Till these young luvers a' were fond 
 0' others companie. 
 
 The king has sent for robes o' green, 
 
 And girdles o' shining gold ; 
 And sae sune have the ladyes busked them- 
 
 Sae glorious to behold. [selves, " 
 
 The knights they harped i' their bower, 
 
 The ladies sew'd and sang ; 
 There was mair mirth in that chamer 
 h Than a' their father's Ian'. 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 131 
 
 Then out it spak' their step mither, 
 
 At the stair-foot stood she ; 
 " I'm plagued wi' your troublesome noise, 
 
 What makes your melodie ? 
 
 " O Rose the Red, ye sing too loud, 
 "While Lillie your voice is Strang ; 
 
 But gin I live and brook my life, 
 l'se gar you change your sang." 
 
 " We maunna change our loud, loud song, 
 
 For nae duke's son ye '11 bear; 
 We winna change our loud, loud song, 
 
 But aye we'll sing the mair. 
 
 " We never sung the sang, mither, 
 
 But we'll sing ower again ; 
 We'll take our harps into our hands, 
 
 And we'll harp, and we'll sing." 
 
 She's call'd upon her twa young sons, 
 
 Says, " Boun' ye for the sea; 
 Let Rose the Red, and White Lillie, 
 
 Stay in their bower wi' me." 
 
 " God forbid," said her eldest son, 
 
 " Nor lat it ever be, 
 Unless ye were as kind to our luves 
 
 As gin we were them wi'." 
 
 " Yet never the less, my pretty sons, 
 
 Ye'll boun' you for the faem ; 
 Let Rose the Red, and White Lillie, 
 
 Stay in their bowers at name." 
 
 " O when wi' you we came alang, 
 
 We felt the stormy sea ; 
 And where we go, ye ne'er shall know, 
 
 Nor shall be known by thee." 
 
 Then wi' her harsh and boisterous word. 
 
 She forc'd these lads away; 
 While Rose the Red and White Lillie 
 
 Still in their bowers did stay. 
 
 But there was not a quarter past, 
 
 A quarter past but ane ; 
 Till Rose the Red in rags she gaed, 
 
 White Lillie's elaithing grew thin. 
 
 Wi' bitter usage every day, 
 The ladies they thought lang; 
 
 " Ohon, alas ! said Rose the Red, 
 She's gar'd us change our sang. 
 
 " But we will change our own fu' names, 
 And well gang frae the town ; 
 
 Frae Rose the Red and White Lillie, 
 To Nicholas and Roger Brown. 
 
 " And we will cut our green elaithing 
 
 A little aboon our knee ; 
 And we will on to gude greenwood, 
 
 Twa bauld bowmen to be." 
 
 " Ohon, alas !" said White Lillie, 
 
 "My fingers are but sma'; 
 And though my hands would wield the bow. 
 
 They winna yield at a'." 
 
 " had your tongue now, White Lillie, 
 
 And let these fears a' be ; 
 There's naething that ye're awkward in, 
 
 But I will learn thee." 
 
 Then they are on to gude greenwood 
 
 As fast as gang could they ; 
 O then they spied him, Robin Hood , 
 
 Below a green aik tree. 
 
 "Gude day, gude day, kind sir," they said, 
 " God make you safe and free." 
 
 " Gude day, gude day," said Robin Hood, 
 " What is your wills wi' mer>" 
 
 " Lo here we are, twa banish'd knights, 
 
 Come frae our native hame ; 
 We're come to crave o' thee service, 
 
 Our king will gi'e us nane." 
 
 " If ye be twa young banish'd knights, 
 
 Tell me frae what countrie ; " 
 " Frae Anster town into Fifeshire, 
 
 Ye know it as well as we." 
 
 " If a* be true that ye ha'e said, 
 
 And tauld just now to me ; 
 Ye're welcome, welcome, every one, 
 
 Your master 1 will be. 
 
 " Now ye shall eat as I do eat, 
 
 And lye as I do lye ; 
 Ye salna wear nae waur elaithing 
 
 Nor my young men and I." 
 
 Then they went to a ruinous house, 
 
 And there they enter'd in ; 
 And Nicholas fed wi' Robin Hood,, 
 
 And Roger wi' little John 
 
[32 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 But it fell ance upon a day, V 
 
 They were at the putting-stane , 
 "When Rose the Red she viewd them a', 
 
 As they stood on the green. 
 
 Her luver looks her in the face, 
 
 And thus to her said he ; 
 " 1 think your cheeks are pale and wan, 
 
 Pray, what gaes warst wi' thee ? 
 
 She hit the stane then wi' her foot, 
 And kep'd it wi' her knee ; 
 
 And spaces three aboon them a", 
 I wyte she gar'd it flee. 
 
 " want ye roses to your breast, 
 
 Or ribbons to your sheen ? 
 Or want ye as muckle o' dear bought Hive 
 
 As your heart can conteen ?" 
 
 She set her back then to a tree, 
 And ga'e a loud Ohon ! 
 
 A lad spak' in the conipanie, 
 " 1 hear a woman's moan." 
 
 "I want nae roses to my breast, 
 
 Nae ribbons to my sheen ; 
 Nor want I as muckle dear bought luve 
 
 As my heart can conteen. 
 
 •' How know you that, young man," she said, 
 
 " How know you that o' me ? 
 Did e'er ye see me in that place, 
 
 A'e foot my ground to flee ? 
 
 " I'd rather ha'e a fire behynd, 
 
 Anither me before ; 
 A gude midwife at ray right side, 
 
 Till my young babe be bore." 
 
 " Or know ye by my cherry cheeks, 
 
 Or by my yellow hair? 
 Or by the paps on my breast bane, 
 
 Ye never saw them bare." 
 
 " I'll kindle a fire wi' a flint stane, 
 Bring wine in a horn green ; 
 
 I'll be midwife at your right side, 
 Till your young babe be born." 
 
 " I know not by your cherry checks, 
 
 Nor by your yellow hair ; 
 But I know by your milk-white chin, 
 
 On it there grows nae hair. 
 
 "That was ne'er my mither's custom, 
 
 Forbid that it be mine ! 
 A knight stan' by a lady bright, 
 
 Whan she drees a' her pine. 
 
 " 1 never saw you in that cause 
 A'e foot your ground to flee; 
 
 I've seen you stan' wi' sword in han' 
 'Mang men's blood to the knee. 
 
 " There is a knight in gude greenwood. 
 
 If that he kent o' me ; 
 Through stock and stane, and the hawthorc 
 
 Sae soon's he would come me tee." 
 
 " But if I come your bower within, 
 By night, or yet by day ; 
 
 I shall know, before I go, 
 If ye be man or may." 
 
 " If there be a knight in gude greenwood 
 
 Ye like better than me ; 
 If ance he come your bower within, 
 
 Ane o' us twa shall dee." 
 
 "0 if you come my bower within, 
 By night, or yet by day ; 
 
 As soon's 1 draw my trusty brand, 
 Nae lang ye'll wi' me stay." 
 
 She set a horn to her mouth, 
 
 And she blew load and shrill ; 
 Thr. ugh stock and stane, and the hawthorn,. 
 
 Brave Roger came her till. 
 
 But he is haunted to her bower, 
 Her bigly bower o' stane, 
 
 Till he has got her big wi' bairn, 
 And near sax months she's gane. 
 
 " Wha's here sae bauld," the youth replied, 
 
 " Thus to encroach on me ?" 
 "0 here am I," the knight replied, 
 
 " Ha'e as much right as thee." 
 
 When three mair months were come and 
 They gae'd to hunt the hynde ; [gane, 
 
 She wont to be the foremost ane, 
 But now stay'd far behynd. 
 
 Then they fought up the gude greenwood, 
 Sae did thty down the plain ; 
 1 They niddart ither wi' lang biaid sworcfc, 
 ^ Till they were bleedy men. 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 133 
 
 Then out it. spak' the sick woman, 
 Sat under the greenwood tree; 
 
 *' O had your nan', young man," she said, 
 " She's a woman as well as me." 
 
 Then out it speaks anither youth, 
 
 Amang the companie ; 
 " Gin I had kent what 1 ken now, 
 
 *Tis for her I would dee." 
 
 " O wae mat worth you, Rose the Red, 
 
 An ill death mat ye dee '. 
 Although ye tauld upo' yoursel', 
 
 Ye might ha'e heal'd on me." 
 
 " O for her sake I was content, 
 
 For to gae ower the sea; 
 For her 1 left my mither's ha', 
 
 Though she proves fause to me." 
 
 But whan these lovers were made known, 
 
 They sung right joyfullie ; 
 Nae blyther was the nightingale, 
 
 Nor bird that sat on tree. 
 
 Now they ha'e married these ladies, 
 Brought them to bower an ha', 
 
 And now a happy life they lead, 
 I wish sae may we a'. 
 
 THE WEDDING OF ROBIN HOOD AND 
 LITTLE JOHN. 
 
 [This appears to be merely an imperfect ver- 
 sion of the previous ballad. It is given in Mr 
 Kinloch's collection. — " The fame," says Mr 
 Kinloch, "of bold Robin Hood, (to whom tradi- 
 tion has assigned the title of the Earl of Hunt- 
 ington), and his bon camarado Little John, was 
 not confined to England, but was well known in 
 Scotland, where their gallant exploits are yet 
 remembered, and have become still more fami- 
 liar since the publication of 'Ivanhoe;' in 
 which romance 
 
 Robin Hood and his : 
 
 r.y : 
 
 sustain a very prominent part. 
 
 " Robin Hood was, anciently, celebrated in 
 Scotland by an annual play or festival ; and the 
 following extract, while it shows the estimation 
 
 in which this festival was regarded by the popu- 
 lace, displays at the same time their lawless con- 
 duct, and the weakness of the civil power, in the 
 city of Edinburgh in the fourteenth century. — 
 ' The game of Robin Hood was celebrated in the 
 month of May. The populace assembled pre- 
 vious to the celebration of this festival, and chose 
 some respectable member of the curporation to 
 officiate in the character of Robin Hood, and 
 another in that of Little John, his squire. Upon 
 the day appointed, which was a Sunday or a 
 holiday, the people assembled in military array, 
 and went to some adjoining field, where, either 
 as actors or spectators, the whole inhabitants of 
 the respective towns were convened. In this 
 field they probably amused themselves with a 
 representation of Robin Hood's predatory ex- 
 ploits, or of his encounters with the officers of 
 justice. As numerous meetings for disorderly 
 mirth ave apt to engender tumult, when the 
 minds of the people came to be agitated with re- 
 ligious controversy, it was found necessary to 
 repress the game of Robin Hood by public 
 statute. The populace were by no means willing 
 to relinquish their favourite amusement. Year 
 after year the magistrates of Edinburgh were 
 obliged to exert their authority in repressing 
 this game, often ineffectually. In the year 1561, 
 ttie mob were so enraged in being disappointed 
 in making a Robin Hood, that they rose in 
 mutiny, seized on the city gates, committed 
 robberies upon strangers ; and one of the ring- 
 leaders, being condemned by the magistrates to 
 be hanged, the mob forced open the jail, set at 
 liberty the criminal and all the prisoners, and 
 broke in pieces the gibbet erected at the cress for 
 executing the malefactor. They next assaulted 
 the magistrates, who were sitting in the council- 
 chamber, and who fled to the tolbooth for shel- 
 ter, where the mob attacked them, battering 
 the doors, and pouring stones through the win- 
 dows. Application was made to the deacons of the 
 corporations to appease the tumult. Remaining, 
 however, unconcerned spectators, they made this 
 answer : — They will be magistrates alone ; let them 
 rule the multitude alone. The magistrates were 
 kept in confinement till they made proclamation 
 be published, offering indemnity to the rioters 
 upon laying down their arms. Still, however, 
 so late as the year 1592, we find the General As- 
 sembly complaining of the profanation of the 
 Sabbath, by making of Robin Hood Plays.' — 
 Amot's Hist, of Edin. eh. II. 
 } " Among all the numerous ballads and tales, 
 
134 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 which have been composed on these celebrated & 
 outlaws, the editor has not discovered that tbe , | 
 present one has ever been published. The edi- '■ 
 tor observes however, a ballad in the 'Border 
 Minstrelsy,' under the title of ' Rose the Red 
 and "White Lilly,' which is evidently founded on 
 the same story. The editor of that work is cor- 
 rect in hie conjecture, that it related to Robin 
 Hood. One might fancy a slight resemblance 
 between the meeting of Robin Hood with the 
 heroines of this ballad, and his meeting with 
 Clorinda, or ' Maid Marian,' as detailed in ' Ro- 
 bin Hood's birth, breeding, valour and mar- 
 riage,' as published by Mr Ritson, Part II."] 
 
 The king has wedded an ill woman, 
 
 Into some foreign land ; — 
 His daughters twa, that stood in awe, 
 
 They bravely sat and sang. 
 
 Then in be-came their step-mother, 
 
 Sae stately steppin' ben ; — 
 " gin 1 live and bruik my life, 
 
 I'll gar ye change your tune." 
 
 " O we sang ne'er that sang, ladie, 
 
 But we will sing again ; 
 Ami ye ne'er bore that son, ladie, 
 
 "VVe wad lay our love on. 
 
 " But we will cow our yellow locks, 
 
 A little abune our bree, 
 And we will on to gude greenwud, 
 
 And serve for meat and fee. 
 
 And we will kilt our gay claithing 
 A little below the knee ; 
 And we will on to gude greenwud, 
 Gif Robin Hood we see. 
 
 " And we will change our ain twa names, 
 "Whan we gae frae the toun, — 
 
 The tane we will call Nicholas, 
 The tither Rogee Roun." 
 
 Then they ha'e cow'd their yellow locks, 
 
 A little abune their bree; 
 And they are on to gude greenwud, 
 
 To serve for meat and fee. 
 
 And they ha'e kilt their gay claithing 
 
 A little below their knee, 
 And they are on to gude greenwud, 
 
 Gif Robin Hood they see. 
 
 And they ha'e chang'd their ain twa names, 
 Whan they gaed frae the toun ;— 
 
 The tane they've called Nicholas, 
 The tither Rogee Roun. 
 
 And they ha'e staid in gude greenwud, 
 And never a day thoucht lang, 
 
 Till it fell ance upon a day, 
 That Rogee sang a sang. 
 
 " Whan we were in cur father's bouer, 
 
 We sew'd the silken seam ; 
 But now we walk the gude greenwud, 
 
 And bear anither name. 
 
 " When we were in our father's ha", 
 
 We wore the beaten gold ; 
 But now we wear the shield sae sh&rp, — 
 
 Alas! we'll die with cold!" 
 
 Then up bespak' him Robin Hood, 
 
 As he to them drew near, — 
 " Instead of boys to carry the bow, 
 
 Two ladies we've got here !" 
 
 So they had not been in gude greenwud, 
 
 A twalmonth and a day, 
 Till Rogee Roun was as big wi' bairn, 
 
 As onie lady could gae. 
 
 " wae be to my step-mother, 
 That garr'd me leave my hame, 
 
 For I'm wi' bairn to Robin Hood, 
 And near nine months is ganc. 
 
 " O wha will be my bouer-woman — 
 
 Na bouer-woman is here ! 
 O wha will be my bouer-woman, 
 
 "Whan that sad time draws near !" 
 
 The tane was wedded to Robin Hood, 
 And the tither to Little John ; — 
 
 And it was a' owing to their step-mother 
 Tnat garr'd them leave their hame. 
 
 )jjni& ^orw. 
 
 [" Though Hynd Horn possess no claims upon 
 
 the reader's attention on account of its poetry, 
 
 yet it is highly valuable as illustrative of the his- 
 
 35 tory of romantic ballad. In fact, it is nothing 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 135 
 
 else than a portion of the ancient English metri- 
 cal romance of ' Kyng Horn,' which some bene- 
 volent pen, peradventure, ' for luf of the lewed 
 man,' hath stripped of it3 ' quainte Inglis,' and 
 given — 
 
 Of this the reader -will be at once convinced, if 
 he compares it -with the romance alluded to, or 
 rather with the fragment of the one preserved in 
 the Auchinleck MS., entitled, 'Home Childe 
 and Maiden Eiminild,' both of which ancient 
 poems are to be found in Ritson's Metrical Ro- 
 mances. It is, perhaps, unnecessary to remind 
 the reader, that Hend or Hynd means 'cour- 
 teous, kind, affiible,' &c, an epithet, which, we 
 doubt not, the hero of the ballad was fully en- 
 titled to assume." — Motherrvell.] 
 
 Xxar Edinburgh was a young child bora, 
 "With a hey lillelu and a how lo Ian ; 
 
 And his name it was called young Hynd Horn, 
 And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie. 
 
 Seven lang years he served the king, 
 "With a hey lillelu and a how lo Ian; 
 
 And it's a' for the sake of his dochter Jean, 
 And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie. 
 
 The king an angry man was he, 
 
 "With a hey lillelu and a how lo Ian ; 
 
 He sent young Hynd Horn to the sea, 
 And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie. 
 
 " Oh ! I never saw my love before, 
 "With a hey lillelu and a how lo Ian, 
 
 Till I saw her through an augre bore, 
 And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie. 
 
 " And she gave to me a gay gold ring, 
 "With a hey lillelu and a how lo Ian, 
 
 "With three shining diamonds set therein, 
 And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie. 
 
 "And I gave to her a silver wand, 
 "With a hey lillelu and a how lo Ian, 
 
 "With three singing laverocks set thereon, 
 And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie. 
 
 " "What if those diamonds lose their hue ? 
 
 "With a hey lillelu and a how lo Ian ; 
 Just-when my love begins for to rue, 
 
 And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie. 
 
 " For when your ring turns pale and wan, 
 "With a hey lillelu and a how lo Ian, 
 
 Then I'm in love with another man, 
 And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie." 
 
 He's left the land, and he's gone to the sea, 
 "With a hey lillelu and a how lo Ian, 
 
 And he's stayed there seven years and a day, 
 And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie. 
 
 Seven lang years he has been on the sea, 
 "With a hey lillelu and a how lo Ian ; 
 
 And Hynd Horn has looked how his ring may be, 
 And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie. 
 
 But when he looked this ring upon, 
 "With a hey lillelu and a how lo Ian, 
 
 The shining diamonds were both pa,le and wan, 
 And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie. 
 
 Oh ! the ring it was both black and blue, 
 "With a hey lillelu and a how lo Ian ; 
 
 And she's either dead, or she's married, 
 And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie. 
 
 He's left the seas, and he's come to the land, 
 With a hey lillelu and a how lo Ian, 
 
 And the first he met was an auld beggar man, 
 And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie. 
 
 " "What news ? what news ? my silly auld man ? 
 
 "With a hey lillelu and a how lo Ian ; 
 For it's seven years since I have seen land, 
 
 And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie. 
 
 " "What news. what news ? thou auld beggar man? 
 
 With a hey lillelu and a how lo Ian ; 
 "What news ? what news ? by sea or land ? 
 
 And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie " 
 
 " No news at all," said the auld beggar man, 
 "With a hey lillelu and a how lo Ian ; 
 
 But there is a wedding in the king's hall, 
 And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie. 
 
 " There is a king's dochter in the west, 
 With a hey lillelu and a how lo Ian, 
 
 And she has been married thir nine nights past, 
 And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie. 
 
 " Into the bridebed she winna gang, 
 "With a hey lillelu and a how lo Ian ; 
 
 Till she hears tell of her ain Hynd Horn, 
 And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie. 
 
136 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 " Wilt thou give to me thy begging coat, 
 Witn a hey lillelu and a how lo Ian, 
 
 And I'll give to thee my scarlet cloak, 
 And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie. 
 
 " Wilt thou give to me thy begging staff, 
 With a hey lillelu and a how lo Ian, 
 
 And I'll give to thee my good gray steed, 
 And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie." 
 
 The auld beggar man cast off his coat, 
 With a hey lillelu and a how lo Ian, 
 
 And he's ta'en up the scarlet cloak, 
 And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie. 
 
 The auld beggar man threw down his staff, 
 With a hey lillelu and a how lo Ian, 
 
 And he is mounted the good gray steed, 
 And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie. 
 
 The auld beggar man was bound for the mill, 
 With a hey lillelu and a how lo Ian ; 
 
 But young Hynd Horn for the king's hall, 
 And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie. 
 
 The auld beggar man was bound for to ride, 
 With a hey lillelu and a how lo Ian ; 
 
 But young Hynd Horn was bound for the bride, 
 And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie. 
 
 When he came to the king's gate, 
 Witt' a Ley lillelu and a how lo Ian, 
 
 He asked a drink for young Hynd Horn's sake, 
 And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie. 
 
 These news unto the bonnie bride came, 
 With a hey lillelu and a how lo Ian, 
 
 That at the yett there stands an auld man, 
 And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie. 
 
 " There stands an auld man at the king's gate, 
 With a hey lillelu and a how lo Ian, 
 
 He asketh a drink for young Hynd Horn's sake, 
 And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie." 
 
 "I'll go through nine fires so hot, 
 
 With a hey lillelu and a how lo Ian ; [sake, 
 But I'll give him a drink for young Hynd Horn's 
 
 And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie." 
 
 She went to the gate where the auld man did 
 With a hey lillelu and a how lo Ian, [stand, 
 
 And 6he gave him a drink out of her own hand, 
 And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie. 
 
 ( *. She gave him a cup out of her own hand, 
 With a hey lillelu and a how lo Ian, 
 He drunk out the drink, and dropt in the ring, 
 And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie. 
 
 " Got thou it by sea, or got thou it by land ? 
 
 With a hey lillelu and a how lo Ian, 
 Or got thou it off a dead man's hand ? 
 
 And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie." 
 
 " I got it not by sea, but I got it by land, 
 With a hey lillelu and a how lo Ian, 
 
 For 1 got it out of thine own hand, 
 And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie." 
 
 " I'll cast off my gowns of brown, 
 With a hey lillelu and a how lo Ian, 
 
 And I'll follow thee from town to town, 
 And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie. 
 
 " I'll cast off my gowns of red, 
 With a hey lillelu and a how lo Ian, 
 
 And along with thee I'll beg my bread, 
 And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie." 
 
 " Thou need not cast off thy gowns of brown, 
 With a hey lillelu and a how lo Ian, 
 
 For I can make thee lady of many a town, 
 And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie. 
 
 " Thou need not cast off thy gowns of red, 
 With a hey lillelu and a how lo Ian, 
 
 For I can maintain thee with both wine and bread, 
 And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie." 
 
 The bridegroom thought he had the bonnie bride 
 wed, 
 
 With a hey lillelu and a how lo Ian ; 
 But young Hynd Horn took the bride to the bed, 
 
 And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie. 
 
 Eakfo of Urum. 
 
 [From Mr Kinloch's Collection.—" Drum, the 
 property of the ancient and once powerful 
 family of Irwin or Irvine, is situated in the 
 parish of Drumoak, in Aberdeenshire. This 
 ballad was composed on the marriage of Alex- 
 ander Irvine of Drum to his 6econd wife, Mar- 
 \i garet Coutts, a woman of inferior birth and 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 137 
 
 manners, which step gave great offence to his % 
 relations. He had previously, in 1643, married 
 Mary, fourth daughter of George, second .Mar- 
 quis of Huutly."] 
 
 Thf Laird o' Drum is a-wooing gane, 
 
 It was on a morning early, 
 And he has fawn in wj' a bonnie may 
 
 A-shearing at her barley. 
 
 " My bonnie may, my weel-faur'd may, 
 
 will you fancy me, t) ; 
 
 And gae and be the lady o' Drum, 
 And lat your shearing abee, O." 
 
 " It's I canna fancy thee, kind sir, 
 
 1 winna fancy thee, O, 
 
 I winna gae and be lady o' Drum, 
 And lat my shearing abee, O. 
 
 " But set your love on anither, kind sir, 
 
 Set it not on me, O, 
 For I am not fit to be your bride, 
 
 And your hure I'll never be, 0. 
 
 "My father he is a shepherd mean, 
 
 Keeps sheep on yonder hill, O, 
 And ye may gae and speir at him, 
 
 For I am at his will 0." 
 
 Drum is to her father gane, 
 
 Keeping his sheep en yon hill, 0; 
 
 And he has gotten his consent 
 That the may was at his will, O. 
 
 " But my dochter can neither read nor write, 
 She was ne'er brought up at seheel, O , 
 
 But weel can she milk cow and ewe, 
 And mak' a kebbuck weel, 0. 
 
 " She'll win in your barn at bear-seed time, 
 
 Cast out your muck at Yule, O, 
 She'll saddle your steed in time o' need, 
 
 And draw aff your boots hersel', 0." 
 
 " Have not I no clergymen ? 
 
 Pay I no clergy fee, ? 
 I'll seheel her as I think fit, 
 
 And as I think weel to be, O. 
 
 c: I'll learn your lassie to read and write, 
 And 111 put her to the seheel, , 
 
 she'll neither need to saddle my steed, 
 Nor draw aff my boots hersel', 0. 
 
 "But wha will bake my bridal bread, 
 
 Or brew my bridal ale, O ; 
 And wha will welcome my bonnie bride, 
 
 Is mair than 1 can tell, O." 
 
 Drum is to the hielands gane, 
 
 For to mak' a' ready, 
 And a' the gentry round about, 
 
 Cried, " Yonders Drum and his lady! 
 
 " Peggy Coutts is a very bonnie bride, 
 And Drum is a wealthy laddie, 
 
 But he micht ha'e chosen a hier match, 
 Than onie shepherd's lassie." 
 
 Then up bespak' his brither John, 
 
 Says, " Ye've deen us meikle wrang, 0, 
 
 Ye've married een below our degree, 
 Alake to a' our kin', 0." 
 
 '"' Hold your tongue, my brither John, 
 
 I have deen you na wrang, O, 
 For I've married een to wirk and win, 
 
 And ye've married een to spend, 0. 
 
 " The first time that I had a wife, 
 She was far abeen my decree, O ; 
 
 I durst na come in her presence, 
 But wi' my hat upo' my knee, O. 
 
 " The first wife that I did wed, 
 She was far abeen my degree, 0, 
 
 She wadna ha'e walk'd to the yetts o' Drum 
 But the pearls abeen her bree, O. 
 
 " But an she was ador'd for as much gold 
 
 As Peggy's for beautie, O, 
 She micht walk to the yetts o' Drum 
 
 Amang gueed companie, 0." 
 
 There war four-and-twenty gentlemen 
 
 Sto<\l at the yetts o' Drum, O, 
 There was na ane amang them a' 
 
 That welcom'd his lady in, 0. 
 
 He has tane her by the milk-white hand, 
 
 And led her in himsel', O, 
 And in through ha s, and in through borers,— 
 
 " And \e're welcome, lady o' Drum, O." 
 
 Thrice he kissed her cherry cheek, 
 And thrice her cherry chin, O ; 
 
 And twenty times her comely nrnu', — 
 " And ye're welcome, lady o' Drum, O. 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 " Ye sail be cock in my kitchen, 
 
 Butler in my ha', O ; 
 Ye sail be lady in my command, 
 
 "VVhan I ride far awa', O." 
 
 " But I told ye afore we war wed, 
 
 I was owre low for thee, O ; 
 But now we are wed, and in ae bed laid, 
 
 And ye maun be content wi' me, O : 
 
 " For an I war dead, and ye war dead, 
 
 And baith in ae grave laid, O, 
 And ye and I war tane up again, [O ?" 
 
 Wha could distan your mouls frna mine, 
 
 *&tt battle otf Pf>«kfaL 
 
 [This ballad relates very faithfully and cir- 
 cumstantially the cause and issue of this battle, 
 fought in 1411, between Donald of the Isles and 
 the Earl of Marr, nephew to the Duke of Al- 
 bany, Regent of Scotland during the captivity of 
 James I. — In the " Complaynt of Scotland," 
 published in 1549, a ballad, with this title, is 
 mentioned as being then popular, but the pre- 
 sent was first published by Allan Ramsay, and 
 in all likelihood written by him.] 
 
 Fbae Dunideir as I cam' throuch, 
 
 Doun by the hill of Banochie, 
 Allangst the lands of Garioch, 
 
 Grit pitie was to heir and se, 
 
 The noys and dulesum hermonie, 
 That evir that dreiry day did daw, 
 
 Cryand the corynoch on hie, 
 " Alas, alas, for the Harlaw." 
 
 I marvlit what the matter meint, 
 
 All folks war in a fiery fairy, 
 I wist noeht quha was fae or friend, 
 
 Zit quietly I did me carrie ; 
 
 But sen the days of auld king Harrie, 
 Sic slauehter was not hard nor sene ; 
 
 And thair I had nae tyme to tairy, 
 For bissiness in Aberdene. 
 
 Thus as 1 walkit on the way, 
 
 To Inverury as I went, 
 1 met a man, and bad him stay, 
 
 Requesting him to mak' me quaint 
 
 Of the beginning and the event. 
 That happenit thair at the Harlaw ; 
 
 Then he entreated me tak' tent, 
 And he the truth sould to me schaw.— 
 
 " Grit Donald of the Yles did claim 
 
 Unto the lands of Russ sum richt, 
 And to the governour he came, 
 
 Them for to half gif that he micht ; 
 
 Quha saw his interest was but sliciit, 
 And thairfore answerit with disdain ; 
 
 He hastit hame baith day and nicht, 
 And sent nae bodword back again. 
 
 " But Donald, richt impatient 
 
 Of that answer duke Robert gaif, 
 He vowed to God omnij otent, 
 
 All the hale lands of Ross to haif ; 
 
 Or ells, he graithed in his graif, 
 He wald not quat his richt for nocht, 
 
 Nor be abusit lyk a slaif, 
 That bargain sould be deirly bocht. 
 
 " Then haistylie he did command. 
 
 That all his weir-men should convene 
 Ilk ane well harnisit frae hand, 
 
 To meit, and heir quhat he did mein ; 
 
 He waxit wrath, and vowit tein, 
 Sweirand he wald surpryse the north, 
 
 Subdew the brugh of Aberdene, 
 Mearns, Angus, and all Fyfe, to Forth. 
 
 " Thus with the weir-men of the Yles, 
 
 Quha war ay at his bidding boun', 
 With money maid, with furss and wyls, 
 
 Richt far and near, baith up and down ; 
 
 Throw mount and muir, frae town to town, 
 Allangst the land of Ross he roars, 
 
 And all obeyed at his bandoun, 
 Evin frae the north to suthren. shoare. 
 
 " Then all the cuntrie men did zield, 
 
 For nae resistans durst they mak', 
 Nor offer battill in the field, 
 
 Be forss of arms to beir him bak ; 
 
 Syne they resolvit <'.ll and spak', 
 That best it was for their bthoif, 
 
 They sould him for thair chiftain t..k", 
 Believing weil he did them luve. 
 
 " Then he a proclamation maid, 
 
 All men to meet at Inverness, 
 Throw Murray land to mak' a raid, 
 
 Frae Arthursyre unto Speynes.".; 
 

 
 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 139 
 
 
 And, furthermair, he sent express 4 
 
 i Panmuir with all his men did cum; 
 
 
 
 To schaw his collours and ensanzie, 
 
 The provost of braif Aberdene, 
 
 
 
 To all and sindry, mair and less, 
 
 With trumpets, and with tuick of drum, 
 
 
 
 Throchout the boundis of Boyn and Enzie. 
 
 Came shortly in their armour schene. 
 
 
 
 " And then throw fair Strathbogie land, 
 
 " These with the erle of Mar came on, 
 
 
 
 His purpose was for to pursew, 
 
 In the reir-ward richt orderlie, 
 
 
 
 And quhasoevir durst gainstand, 
 
 Their enemies to set upon 
 
 
 
 That race they should full sairly rew ; 
 
 In awful manner hardily; 
 
 
 
 Then he bad all his men be trew, 
 
 Togither vowit to live and die, 
 
 
 
 And him defend by forss and slicht, 
 
 Since they had marchit mony myles, 
 
 
 
 And promist them rewardis anew, 
 
 For to suppress the tyrannie 
 
 
 
 And mak' them men of meikle micht. 
 
 Of douted Donald of the Yles. 
 
 
 
 " Without resistans," as he said, 
 
 " But he in number ten to ane, 
 
 
 
 " Throw all these parts he stoutly past, 
 
 Richt subtilie alang did ride, 
 
 
 
 Quhair sum war wae, and sum war glaid, 
 
 With Malcomtosch, and fell Maclean, 
 
 
 
 But Garioch was all agast ; 
 
 With all thair power at thair syde ; 
 
 
 
 Throw all these fields he sped him fast, 
 
 Presumeand on thair strenth and Frycte> 
 
 
 
 For sic a sicht was never sene, 
 
 Without all feir or ony aw, 
 
 
 
 And then, forsuith, he langd at last, 
 
 Eieht bauldlie battill did abyde, 
 
 
 
 To se the bruch of Aberdene. 
 
 Hard by the town of fair Harlaw. 
 
 
 
 "To hinder this prowd enterprise, 
 
 " The armies met the trumpet sounds, 
 
 
 
 The stout and michty erle of Mar, 
 
 The dandring drums alloud did touk, 
 
 
 
 With all his men in arms did ryse, 
 
 Baith armies byding on the bounds, 
 
 
 
 Even frae Curgarf to Craigyvar ; 
 
 Till ane of them the feild sould bruik ; 
 
 
 
 And down the syde of Don richt far, 
 
 Nae help was thairfor, nane wad jouk, 
 
 
 
 Angus and Mearns did all convene 
 
 Ferss was the fecht on ilka side, 
 
 
 
 To fecht, or Donald came fae nar 
 
 And on the ground lay mony a bouk, 
 
 
 
 The ryall bruch of Aberdene. 
 
 Of them that thair did battill byd. 
 
 
 
 " And thus the martial erle of Mar 
 
 " With doutsum victorie they dealt, 
 
 
 
 Marcht with his men in richt array, 
 
 The bludy battill lastit'lang; 
 
 
 
 Iiefoire the enemie was aware, 
 
 Each man his nibours forss thair felt, 
 
 
 
 His banner bauldly did display; 
 
 The weakest aft-times gat the wrang ; 
 
 
 
 For weil enewch they kend the way, 
 
 Thair was nae mowis thair them amani, 
 
 
 
 And all their semblance weil they saw, 
 
 Naething was heard but heavy knocks, 
 
 
 
 Without all dangir or delay, 
 
 That echo maid a dulefull sang, 
 
 
 
 Came hastily to the Harlaw. 
 
 Thairto resounding frae the rocks. 
 
 
 
 " With him the braif lord Ogilvy, 1 
 
 " But Donald's men at last gaif back, 
 
 
 
 Of Angus sheriff-principall; 
 
 For they war all out of array ; 
 
 
 
 The constabill of gude Dunde, 
 
 The erle of Maris men throw them brak, 
 
 
 
 The vanguard led before them all ; 
 
 Pursewing shairply in thair way, 
 
 
 
 Suppose in number they war small, 
 
 Their enemys to tak' or slay, 
 
 
 
 Thay first richt bauldlie did pursew, 
 
 Be dy»t of forss to gar them yield ; 
 
 
 
 And maid their faes befoir them fall, 
 
 Quha war richt blyth to win away, 
 
 
 
 Quha then that race did sairly rew. 
 
 And sae for feirdness tint the field. 
 
 
 
 " And then the worthy lord Saltoun, 
 
 " Then Donald fled, and that full fast, 
 
 
 
 The strong undoubted laird of Drum, 
 
 To mountains hieh for all his micht ; 
 
 
 
 The stalwart laird of Lawriestone, 
 
 For he and his war all azast, 
 
 
 
 With ilk thair forces all and sum ; < 
 
 6 And ran tiil they war out of aioht ; 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 140 SCOTTISH 
 
 BALLADS. 
 
 And sae of Ross he lost his richt, {& A valiant man of chevalrie, 
 
 Thoch rnony men with him he brocht; 
 
 Quhas predecessors wan that place 
 
 Towards the Yles fled day and nicht, 
 
 At Spey, with gude king William <Mdj 
 
 And all he wan was deirlie bocht. 
 
 'Gainst Murray and Macduncan's raoe. 
 
 "This is," quod he, "the richt report 
 
 " Gude Sir Alexander Irving, 
 
 Of all that I did heir and knaw; 
 
 The much renownit laird of Drum, 
 
 Thoch my discourse be sumthing schort, 
 
 Nane in his days was better sene, 
 
 Tak' this to bs a richt suthe saw. 
 
 Quhen they war semblit all and sum ; 
 
 Contrairie God and the king's law 
 
 To praise him we sould not be durum, . 
 
 Thair was spilt mekle Christian blude, 
 
 For valour, witt, and worthyness, 
 
 Into the battil of Harlaw; 
 
 To end his days he ther did cum, 
 
 This is the sum, sae I conclude. 
 
 Quhois ransom is remeidyless. 
 
 " But zit a bonnie quhyle abide, 
 
 " And thair the knicht of Lawriston 
 
 And I sail mak' thee clearly ken, 
 
 Was slain into his armour schene; 
 
 Quhat slauchter was on ilkay syde, 
 
 And gude Sir Robert Davidson, 
 
 Of Lowland and of Highland men; 
 
 Quha provost was of Aberdene ; 
 
 Quha for their awin haif evir bene; 
 
 The knicht of Panrnure as was sene, 
 
 These lazie lowns micht weil be spaircl, 
 
 A. mortal man in armour bricht; 
 
 Chessit lyke deirs into thair dens, 
 
 Sir Thomas Murray stout and kene, 
 
 And gat thair wages for rewaird. 
 
 Left to the world their last gude nicht. 
 
 " Malcomtosch of the clan heid cheif, 
 
 " Thair was not sin' king Keneth's days, 
 
 Maclean with his grit hauchty heid, 
 
 Sic strange intestine crewel stryf 
 
 With all thair succour and relief, 
 
 In Scotland sene, as ilk man says, 
 
 War dulef'ully dung to the deid ; 
 
 Quhair mony liklie lost thair lyfe; 
 
 And now we are freid of thair feid, 
 
 Quhilk maid divorce twene man and wyfe, 
 
 And will not lang to come again; 
 
 And mony children fatherless, 
 
 Thousands with them without remeid, 
 
 Quhilk in this realme has bene full ryfe ; 
 
 On Donald syd, that day war slain. 
 
 Lord, help these lands, our wrangg redress.— 
 
 "And on the uther syde war lost, 
 
 " In July, on Saint James his even, 
 
 Into the feild that dismal day, 
 
 That four-and-twenty dismall day, 
 
 Cheif men of worth (of mekle cost) 
 
 Twelve hundred, ten score, and eleven, 
 
 To be lamentit sair for ay ; 
 
 Of zeirs sen Chryst, the suthe to say; 
 
 The lord Saltoun of Rothemay, 
 
 Men will remembeT as they may, 
 
 A man of micht and mekle main, 
 
 Quhen thus the veritie they know; 
 
 Grit dolour was for his decay, 
 
 And mony a ane may murn for ay, 
 
 That sae unhappylie was slain. 
 
 The brim battil of the Harlaw." 
 
 " Of the best men amang them was 
 
 
 The gracious gude lord G;dlvy, 
 
 
 
 The sheriff-principal of Angus, 
 
 
 Renownit for truth and equitie, 
 
 
 For faith and magnanimitie; 
 He had few fallows in the feild, 
 
 Wfyt H&iwg'jj Daughter. 
 
 Zit fell by fatal destinie, 
 
 
 For he nae ways wad grant to zield. 
 
 [Modern Ballad.— Henby Glassfobd Bull.] 
 
 " Sir James Scrimgeor of Duddap, knicht, 
 
 It was a lord and a gentle maid 
 
 Grit constabill of fair Dunde, 
 
 Sat in a greenwood bower, 
 
 IT no the dulefull deith was dicht j 
 
 And thus the brave Sir A lfred said 
 
 The kingis chief banner-man was he, ^ 
 
 S To the greenwood's fairest flower : — 
 
 

 
 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. \±l 
 
 
 " I have loved thee well, sweet Rosalie, — < 
 
 k Sir Alfred has entered the royal hall 
 
 
 
 "With thee 1 could live and die ; 
 
 'Midst a thousand nobles in rich array ,- 
 
 
 
 But thou art a maid of low degree, 
 
 But he who was once more gay than all, 
 
 
 
 And of princely race am I. 
 
 Has never, I ween, one word to say. 
 
 
 
 " I have loved thee well, sweet Rosalie, 
 
 The king sat high on his royal throne, 
 
 
 
 I have loved a year and a day; 
 
 Though his hairs were gray, his arm was strong, 
 
 
 
 But a different fate is in store for me, 
 
 " Good cousin," he said, in a jocund tone, 
 
 
 
 And 1 must no longer stay. 
 
 " Is it thou or thy steed that has stay'd so long ? 
 
 
 
 " Thou art a cottage maiden, love, 
 
 " But it boots not now — Bring forth the bride ! 
 
 
 
 .And know not thy own pedigree; 
 
 Thou hast never yet my daughter seen ; 
 
 
 
 And I must marry the king's daughter, 
 
 A woeful fate it is thine to bide, 
 
 
 
 For she is betrothed to me." 
 
 For her hair U red and her eyes are green!" 
 
 
 
 There was a smile on Rosalie's lip, 
 
 The bride came forth in a costly veil, 
 
 
 
 Hut a tear in her blue eye shone; 
 
 And nought of her face could Alfred see; 
 
 
 
 The smile was all for her lover's fate, 
 
 But his cheek grew yet more deadly pale, 
 
 
 
 The tear perchance for her own. 
 
 And he fell down faltering upon his knee : 
 
 
 
 And down fell her ringlets of chestnut hair. 
 
 " Pardon ! pardon ! my liege, my king ! 
 
 
 
 Down in a shower of gold; 
 
 And let me speak while I yet am free ; 
 
 
 
 And she hid her face in her lover's arms, 
 
 But were she fair as the flowers of spring, 
 
 
 
 With feelings best left untold. 
 
 To your daughter I never can husband be." 
 
 
 
 Tl>en slowly rose she in her bower, 
 
 Lightning flash'd from the king's fierce eye, 
 
 
 
 With something of pride and Bcorn, 
 
 And thunder spoke in his angry tone, — 
 
 
 
 And she look'd like a tall and dewy flower 
 
 " Then the death of a traitor thou shalt die, 
 
 
 
 That lifts up its head to the morn. 
 
 And thy marriage peal shall be torture's moan !" 
 
 
 
 She flung her golden ringlets aside, 
 
 " I never fear'd to die, Sir King, 
 
 
 
 And a deep blu9h crimson'd her cheek, — 
 
 But my plighted faith I fear to break ; 
 
 
 
 "Heaven bless thee, Alfred, andthyyoung bride, 
 
 I never fear'd the grave's deep rest, 
 
 
 
 Heaven give you the joy you seek ! 
 
 But the pangs of conscience I fear to wake." 
 
 
 
 " Thou wert not born for a cottage, love, 
 
 Out then spoke the king's daughter, 
 
 
 
 Nor yet for a maiden of low degree ; 
 
 And haughtily spoke she, — 
 
 
 
 Thou wilt find thy mate in the king's daughter — 
 
 " If Sir Alfred is vow'd to another love, 
 
 
 
 Forget and forgive thy Rosalie." 
 
 He shall never be cla.m'd by me; — 
 
 
 
 Sir Alfred has flung him upon his steed, 
 
 " If Sir Alfred is vow'd to another love, 
 
 
 
 But he rides at a laggard pace ; 
 
 Why, lit the knight go free; 
 
 
 
 Of the road he is travelling he takes no heed, 
 
 Let him give his hand to his other love, 
 
 
 
 And a deadly paleness is on his face. 
 
 There are hundreds as good as he !" 
 
 
 
 Sir Alfred has crme to the king's palace, 
 
 With a careless touch she threw back her veil, 
 
 
 
 And slowly Sir Alfred has lighted down; 
 
 As if it by chance might be; 
 
 
 
 Hesigh'd when he thought of the king's daughter — 
 
 And who do you think was the king's daughter 3 — 
 
 
 
 He sigh'd when he thought of her father's crown. 
 
 His own — his long-loved Rosalie ! 
 
 
 
 " Oh ! that my home were the greenwood bower, 
 
 First he stood like a marble stone, 
 
 
 
 Under the shelter of the greenwood tree! 
 
 And she like a lily sweet, 
 
 
 
 Oh ! that my strength had been all my dower, 
 
 Then a sunny smile o'er his features shone, 
 
 
 
 All my possessions Rosalie !" ^ 
 
 y And then he was at her feet. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
142 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 HEad SftklaiU. 
 
 [Fhom the Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border. 
 — " There are two ballads," says Sir Walter, "in 
 Mr Herd's MSS. upon the following story, in 
 one of which the unfortunate knight is termed 
 Young Huntin. A fragment, containing, from 
 the sixth to the tenth verse, has been repeatedly 
 published. The best verses are here selected from 
 both copies, and some trivial alterations have 
 been adopted from tradition."] 
 
 " O lady, rock never your young son young, 
 
 One hour langer for me ; 
 For 1 have a sweetheart in Garlioch Wells, 
 
 I love far better than thee. 
 
 " The very sole o' that lady's foot 
 Than thy face is far mair white." — 
 
 " But nevertheless, now, Erl Richard, 
 Ye will bide in my bower a' night ?" 
 
 She birled him with the ale and wine, 
 
 As they sat down to sup : 
 A living man he laid him down, 
 
 But I wot he ne'er rose up. 
 
 Then up and spake the popinjay, 
 
 That flew aboun her head; 
 " Lady ! keep weel your green cleiding 
 
 Frae gude Erl Richard's bleid." 
 
 " O better I'll keep my green cleiding 
 
 Frae gude Erl Richard's bleid, 
 Than thou canst keep thy clattering toung, 
 
 That trattles in thy head." 
 
 She has call'd upon her bower maidens, 
 
 She has call'd them ane by ane ; 
 " There lies a dead man in my bower: 
 
 I wish that he were gane I" 
 
 They ha'e booted him, and spurred him, 
 
 As he was wont to ride ; — 
 A hunting-horn tied round his waist, 
 
 A Bharpe sword by his side ; 
 And they ha'e had him to the wan water, 
 
 For a' men call it Clyde. 
 
 Then up and spoke the popinjay, 
 
 That sat upon the tree— 
 What ha'e ye done wi' Erl Richard ? j 
 
 Ye were his gay ladye." ^ 
 
 " Come down, come down, my bonnie bird. 
 
 And sit upon my hand ; 
 And thou shalt ha'e a cage o' gowd. 
 
 Where thou hast but the wand." 
 
 " Awa' ! awa' ! ye ill woman ! 
 
 Nae cage o' gowd for me ; 
 As ye ha'e dune to Erl Richard, 
 
 Sae wad ye do to me." 
 
 She hadna cross'd a rigg o* land, 
 
 A rigg, but barely ane, 
 When she met wi' hi3 auld father, 
 
 Came riding all alane. 
 
 " Where ha'e ye been now, ladye fair? 
 
 Where ha'e ye been sae late ?" 
 " We ha'e been seeking Erl Richard, 
 
 But him we canna get." 
 
 " Erl Richard kens a' the fords in Clyde, 
 
 He'll ride them ane by ane. 
 And though the night was ne'er sae mirk, 
 
 Erl Richard will be hame." 
 
 it fell anes, upon a day, 
 
 The king was boun' to ride ; 
 And he has mist him, Erl Richard, 
 
 Should ha'e ridden on his right side. 
 
 The ladye turn'd her round about, 
 
 Wi' meikle mournfu din — 
 " It fears me sair o' Clyde water, 
 
 That he is drown'd therein." 
 
 " Gar douk, gar douk," the king he cried, 
 
 " Gar douk for gold and fee ; 
 O wha will douk for Erl Richard's sake, 
 
 Or wha will douk for me?" 
 
 They douked in at ae weil-head, 
 
 And out aye at the other; 
 " We can douk nae mair for Erl Richard, 
 
 Although he were our brother." 
 
 It fell that in that ladye's castle, 
 
 The king was boun' to bed; 
 And up and spake the popinjay, 
 
 That flew abune his head. 
 
 "Leave off your douking on the day, 
 
 And douk upon the night; 
 And where that Backless knight lies slain, 
 
 The candles will burn bright." 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 113 
 
 " O there's a bird within this bower, 
 That sings baith sad and sweet; 
 
 O there's a bird within jour b >wer, 
 Keeps me frae my night's sleep." 
 
 They left the douMng on the day, 
 
 And douked upon the night; 
 And, where that sackless knight lay slain, 
 
 The candles burned bright.* 
 
 The deepest pot in a' the linn,f 
 
 They fand Erl Richard in ; 
 A grene turf tyed across his breast, 
 
 To keep that gude lord down. 
 
 Then up and spake the king himsel', 
 "When he saw the deadly wound — 
 
 "O wha has slain my right-band man, 
 That held my hawk and hound ?" 
 
 Then up and spake the popinjay. 
 Says — " "What needs a* this din ? 
 
 " It was his light leman took his life, 
 And hided him in the linn." 
 
 She swore her by the grass sae grene, 
 
 Sae did she by the corn, 
 She had na' seen him, Erl Richard, 
 
 Since Moninday at m^rn. 
 
 * These are unquestionably the corpse lights, 
 called in "Wales Canhrvyllan Cyrph, which are 
 sometimes seen to illuminate the spot where a 
 dead body is concealed. The editor is informed, 
 that, some years ago, the corpse of a man, 
 drowned in the Ettrick, below Selkirk, was dis- 
 covered by means of these candles. Such lights 
 are common in church-yards, and are probably of 
 a phosphoric nature. But rustic superstition 
 derives them from supernatural agency, and 
 supposes, that, as soon as life has departed, a 
 pale flame appears at the window of the house, 
 in which the person had died, and glides towards 
 the church-yard, tracing through every winding 
 the rout of the future funeral, and pausing where 
 the bier is to rest. This and other opinions, re- 
 lating to the " tomb-fires' livid gleam," seem to 
 be of Runic extraction. — Scott. 
 
 f The deep holes, scooped in the rock by the 
 eddies of a river, are called pots ; the motion of 
 the water having there some resemblance to a 
 boiling cauldron. — Linn, means the pool beneath 
 a cataract- — Scott. 
 
 " Put na the wite on me," she said; 
 
 " It was my may Catherine." 
 Then they ha'e cut baith fern and thorn, 
 
 To burn that maiden in. 
 
 It wadna take upon her cheiK, 
 
 Nor yet upon her chin ; 
 Nor yet upon her yellow hair, 
 
 To cleanse the deadly sin. 
 
 The maiden touched the clay-cauld corpse, 
 
 A drap it never bled ; j 
 The ladye laid her hand on him, 
 
 And soon the ground was red. 
 
 Out they ha'e ta'en her, may Catherine, 
 
 And put her mistress in : 
 The flame tuik fast upon her cheik, 
 
 Tuik fast upon her chin ; 
 Tuik fast upon her faire bodye — 
 
 She burn'd like hollins green. 
 
 [" This ballad was communicated to me by Mr 
 James Hogg; and, although it bears a strong 
 resemblance to that of Earl Eichard, so strong, 
 indeed, as to warrant a supposition, that the 
 one has been derived from the other, yet its in- 
 trinsic merit seems to warrant its insertion. 
 Mr Hogg has added the following note, which, 
 
 $ This verse, which is restored from tradition, 
 refers to a superstition formerly received in most 
 parts of Europe, and even resorted to by judicial 
 authority, for the discovery of murder. In Ger- 
 many, this experiment was called bahr-recht, or 
 the law of the bier, because, the murdered body 
 being stretched upon a bier, the suspected per- 
 son was obliged to put one hand upon the 
 wound, and the other upon the mouth of the 
 deceased, and, in that posture, call upon heaven 
 to attest his innocence. If, during this cere- 
 mony, the blood gushed from the mouth, nose, 
 or wound, a circumstance not unlikely to hap- 
 pen in the course of shifting or stirring the body, 
 it was held sufficient evidence of the guilt of the 
 party. The same singular kind of evidence, al- 
 though reprobated by Mathaeus and Carpzovius, 
 was admitted in the Scottish criminal courts, at 
 the short distance of one century. — Scott. 
 

 
 144 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 
 in the course of my inquiries, I hare found amply ■. 
 
 S Out up then spake a bonnie bird, 
 
 
 
 corroborated. — ' 1 am fully convinced of the an- 
 
 Sat high upon a tree, — 
 
 
 
 tiquity of this song; for, although much of the 
 
 " How could you kill that noble lord ? 
 
 
 
 language seems somewhat modernized, this 
 
 He came to marry thee." 
 
 
 
 must be attributed to its currency, being much 
 
 
 
 
 liked, and very much sung in this neighbour- 
 
 " Come down, come down, my bonnie bird, 
 
 
 
 hood. I can trace it back several generations, 
 
 And eat bread aff my hand ! 
 
 
 
 but cannot hear of its ever having been in print. 
 
 Your cage shall be of wiry goud, 
 
 
 
 1 have never heard it with any considerable 
 
 Whar now it's but the wand." 
 
 
 
 variation, save that one reciter called the dwell- 
 
 
 
 
 ing of the feigned sweetheart, Castlesrva.'"] 
 
 "Keep ye your cage o' goud, lady, 
 
 
 
 Scott. 
 
 And 1 will keep my tree ; 
 
 
 
 Lord William was the bravest knight 
 
 As ye ha'e done to lord William, 
 
 
 
 That dwalt in fair Scotland, 
 
 Sae wad ye do to me." 
 
 
 
 And though renowned in France and Spain, 
 
 
 
 
 Fell by a ladie's hand. 
 
 She set her foot on her door step, 
 A bonnie marble stane ; 
 
 
 
 As she was walking maid alone, 
 
 And carried him to her chamber, 
 
 
 
 Down by yon shady wood, 
 
 O'er him to make her mane. 
 
 
 
 She heard a smit* o' bridle reins, 
 
 
 
 
 She wish'd might be for good. 
 
 And she has kept that good lord's corpse 
 Three quarters of a year, 
 
 
 
 " Come to my arms, my dear Willie, 
 
 Until that word began to spread. 
 
 
 
 You're welcome hame to me ; 
 
 Then she began to fear. 
 
 
 
 To best o' cht-ar, and charcoal red.f 
 
 
 
 
 And candle burnin' free." 
 
 Then she cried to ber waiting maid, 
 Aye ready at her ca' ; 
 
 
 
 "I winna light, I darena light, 
 
 " There is a knight into my bower, 
 
 
 
 Nor come to your arms at a' ; 
 
 'Tis time he were awa." 
 
 
 
 A fairer maid than ten o' you, 
 
 
 
 
 I'll meet at Castle-law." 
 
 The ane has ta'en him by the bead, 
 The ither by the feet, 
 
 
 
 " A fairer maid than me, Willie ! 
 
 And thrown him in the wan water, 
 
 
 
 A fairer maid than me ! 
 
 That ran baith wide and deep. 
 
 
 
 A fairer maid than ten o' me, 
 
 
 
 
 Your eyes did never see." 
 
 " Look back, look back, now, lady fair, 
 On him that lo'ed ye weel! 
 
 
 
 He louted owr his saddle lap, 
 
 A better man than that blue corpse 
 
 
 
 To kiss her ere they part, 
 
 Ke'er drew a sword of steel." 
 
 
 
 And wi' a little keen bodkin, 
 
 
 
 
 She pierced him to the heart. 
 
 
 
 
 
 " Hide on, ride on, lord William, now, 
 
 
 
 
 As fast as ye can dree ! 
 
 MeriJiafode&STOeWiiltara, 
 
 
 
 Your bonnie lass at Castle-law 
 
 
 
 
 Will weary you to see." 
 
 [First published in Motherwell's Minstrelsy, 
 to which collection it was communicated by Mr 
 
 
 
 
 * Smit — Clashing noise, from smite — hence 
 
 P. Buchan.j 
 
 
 
 also {perhaps) Smith and Smithy. — Scott. 
 
 
 
 
 f Charcoal red — This circumstance marks the 
 
 When Beedisdale and Wise William 
 
 
 
 antiquity of the poem. While wood was plenty 
 in Scotland, charcoal was the usual fuel in the 
 
 Were drinking at the wine; 
 
 
 
 There fell a loosing them amang, 
 
 
 
 chambers of the wealthy. — Scott. s 
 
 f On an unruly time. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 145 
 
 For some o' them ha'e roos'd their hawks, 4& " Come down, come down, my lady fair, 
 
 And ether some their hounds; 
 
 A sight of you give me ; 
 
 And other some their ladies fair, 
 
 And bonnie are the gowns of silk 
 
 And their bowers whare they walk'd in. 
 
 That I will give to thee." 
 
 When out it spake him Reedisdale, 
 
 "If you have bonnie gowns of silk, 
 
 And a rash word spake he ; 
 
 O mine is bonnie tee; 
 
 Says, " There is not a lady fair, 
 
 Go from my yetts now, Reedisdale, 
 
 In bower wherever she be, 
 
 For me you shall not see." 
 
 But I could aye her favour win, 
 
 
 Wi' ae blink o' my e'e." 
 
 " Come down, come down, my lady fair, 
 
 
 A sight of you I'll see ; * 
 
 Then out it spake him, wise William, 
 
 And bonnie jewels, brooches, and rings, 
 
 And a rash word spake he; 
 
 I will give unto thee." 
 
 Says, " I have a sister of my own, 
 
 
 In bower where ever she be, 
 
 " If you have bonnie brooches and rings, 
 
 And ye will not her favour win, 
 
 O mine are bonnie tee; 
 
 With three blinks of your e'e." 
 
 Go from my yetts now, Reedisdale, 
 
 
 For me you shall not see." 
 
 " What will ye wager, wise William ? 
 
 
 My lands I'll wad with thee; - ' 
 
 " Come down, come down, my lady fair, 
 
 "I'll wad my head against your land, 
 
 One sight of you I'll see ; 
 
 Till I get more monie." 
 
 And bonnie are the ha's and bowers 
 
 
 That I will give to thee." 
 
 Then Reedisdale took wise William, 
 
 
 Laid him in f rison Strang; 
 
 " If you have bonnie ha's and bowers, 
 
 That he might neither gang nor ride, 
 
 mine are bonnie tee ; 
 
 Not ae word to her send. 
 
 Go from my yetts now, Reedisdale, 
 
 
 For me you shall not see." 
 
 But he has written a braid letter, 
 
 
 Between the night and day, 
 
 " Come down, come down, my lady fair, 
 
 And sent it to his own sister, 
 
 A sight of you I'll see; 
 
 By dun feather and gray. 
 
 And bonnie are my lands so broad, 
 
 
 That I will give to thee." 
 
 When she had read wise William's letter, 
 
 
 She sn.iled and she leugh ; 
 
 " If you have bonnie lands so broad, 
 
 Said, " Very well, my dear brother, 
 
 O mine are bonnie tee ; 
 
 Of this 1 have eneuch." 
 
 Go from my yetts now, Reedisdale, 
 
 
 For me ye will not see." 
 
 She looked out at her west window, 
 To see what she could see ; 
 
 " Come down, come down, my lady felr, 
 
 And there she spied him Reedisdale, 
 Come riding ower the lea. 
 
 A sight of you I'll see ; 
 And bonnie are the bags of gold * 
 That I will give to thee." 
 
 Says, " Come to me, my maidens all, 
 
 "If you have bonnie bags of gold, 
 
 Come hitherward to me ; 
 
 I have bags of the same ; 
 
 For here it comes him Reedisdale, 
 
 Go from my jetts now, Reedisdale, 
 
 Who comes a-courting me." 
 
 For down I will not come.' 
 
 " Come down, come down, my lady fair, 
 
 " Come down, come down, my lady fair, 
 
 A sight of you give me." 
 
 One sight of you I'll see; 
 
 "Go from my yetts now, Reedisdale, 
 
 Or else I'll set your house on fire, 
 
 For me you will not see." 
 
 jjf If better cannot be." 
 
 K 
 
 
146 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 Then he has set the house on fire 
 
 And all the rest it tuke ; 
 He turned his wight horse head about, 
 
 Said, " Alas ! they'll ne'er get out." 
 
 "Look out, look out, my maidens fair, 
 
 And see what I do see ; 
 How Reedisdale has fired our house, 
 
 And now rides o'er the lea. 
 
 " Come hitherwards, my maidens fair, 
 
 Come hither unto me ; 
 For thro' this reek, and thro' this smeek, 
 
 O through it we must be." 
 
 They took wet mantles them about, 
 
 Their coffers by the band ; 
 And thro' the reek, and thro' the flame, 
 
 Alive they all have wan. 
 
 When they had got out through the fire, 
 
 And able all to stand ; 
 She sent a maid to wise William, 
 
 To bruik Reedisdale's land. 
 
 " Your land is mine now, Reedisdale, 
 
 For I have won them free." 
 " If there is a gude woman in the world, 
 
 Your one sister is she." 
 
 [First published in Buchan's Ballads of the 
 North.] 
 
 Lady Maisry lives intill a bower, 
 She never wore but what she would; 
 
 HeT gowns were o' the silks sae fine, 
 Her coats stood up wi' bolts o' gold. 
 
 Mony a knight there courted her, 
 And gentlemen o' high degree; 
 
 But it was Thomas o' Yonderdale, 
 That gain'd the love o' this ladie. 
 
 Now he has hunted her till her bower, 
 Baith late at night, and the mid-day; 
 
 But when he stole her virgin rose, 
 
 Nae mair this maid he would come nigh. 
 
 But it fell ance upon a time, 
 
 Thomas, her bower he walked by, 
 
 There he saw her, lady Maisry, 
 
 Nursing her young son on her knee. 
 
 "O seal on you, my bonnie babe, 
 And lang may ye my comfort be ; 
 
 Your father passes by our bower, 
 
 And now minds neither you nor me." 
 
 Now when Thomas heard her speak, 
 The saut tear tiinkled frae his e'e; 
 
 To lady Maisry s bower he went, 
 
 Says, " Now I'm come to comfort thee." 
 
 " Is this the promise ye did make, 
 Last when I was in your companie? 
 
 You said befoe nine months were gane, 
 Your wedded wife that I should be." 
 
 " If Saturday be a bonnie day, 
 
 Then, my love, I maun sail the sea; 
 
 But if 1 live for to return, 
 
 O then, my love, I'll marry thee." 
 
 " I wish Saturday a stormy day, 
 
 High and stormy be the sea; 
 Ships may not sail, nor boats row, 
 
 But gar true Thomas stay wi' me." 
 
 Saturday was a bonnie day, 
 
 Fair and leeso i e blew the wind; 
 
 Ships did sail, and boats did row, 
 
 Which had true Thomas to unco ground. 
 
 He hadna been on unco ground, 
 
 A month, a month, but barely three, 
 
 Till he has courted anither maid, 
 And quite forgotten lady Maisry. 
 
 Ae night as he lay on his l>ed, 
 In a dreaiy dream drean.ed he, 
 
 That Maisry stood >y his bedside, 
 Upbraiding him for's inconstancie. 
 
 He's call'd upon his little boy, 
 
 Says, " Bring me candle, that I see; 
 
 And ye maun gang this night, boy, 
 Wi' a letter to a gay ladie." 
 
 " It is my duty you to serve, 
 
 And bi ing >ou c^al ami candle light, 
 And 1 would rin jour errand, master, 
 
 If 't were to lady Maisry bright. 
 

 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. \^J 
 
 
 " Though my legs were sair I eouldna gang, < 
 Tho' the night were dark I eouldna see. 
 
 Though I should creep on hands and feet, 
 I would gae to Lady Malsry." 
 
 ^ Then in it came her Lady Maisry, 
 And aye as she trips in the fleer; 
 " What is your will, Thomas," she said, 
 " This day, ye know, ye call'd me here ? " 
 
 
 
 " Win up, win up, my bonnie boy, 
 And at my bidding for to be ; 
 
 For ye maun quickly my errand rin, 
 Tor it is to Lady Slaisry. 
 
 " Come hither by me, ye lily flower, 
 Come hither, and set ye down by me; 
 
 For ye're the ane I've call'd upon, 
 And ye my wedded wife maun be." 
 
 
 
 " Ye'll bid her dress in the gowns o' silk, 
 Likewise in the coats o' cramasie ; 
 
 Ye'll bid her come alang wi' you, 
 True Thomas's wedding for to see. 
 
 Then in it came true Thomas's bride, 
 And aye as she tripp'd on the stane; 
 
 " What is your will, Thomas," she said, 
 " This day, ye know, ye call'd me hame?** 
 
 
 
 " Ye'll bid her shoe her steed before, 
 And a' gowd graithing him behind ; 
 
 On ilka tip o'her horse mane, 
 Twa bonnie bells to loudly ring. 
 
 " Ye ha'e come on hired horseback, 
 But ye'se gae hame in coach sae free , 
 
 For here's the flower into my bower, 
 I mean my wedded wife shall be." 
 
 
 
 " And on the tor o' her saddle, 
 A courtly bird to sweetly sing , 
 
 Her bridle reins o' silver fine, 
 
 And stirrups by her side to hing." 
 
 " ye will break your lands, Thomas, 
 And part them in divisions three; 
 
 Gi'e twa o' them to your ae brother, 
 And cause your brother marry me." 
 
 
 
 She dress'd her in the finest silk, 
 Her coats were o' the cramasie ; 
 
 And she's awa' to unco land, 
 
 True Thomas's wedding for to see. 
 
 " I winna break my lands," he said, 
 
 " For ony woman that I see; 
 Jly brother's a knight o' wealth and might, 
 
 He'll wed nane but he will for me." 
 
 
 
 At ilka tippet o' her horse mane, 
 Twa bonnie bells did loudly ring ; 
 
 And on the tor o : her saddle, 
 A courtly bird did sweetly sing. 
 
 HEad ®tafofoiclJ. 
 
 
 
 The bells they rang, the bird he sang, 
 As they rode in yon pleasant plain ; 
 
 Then soon she met true Thomas's bride, 
 Wi' a' her maidens and young men. 
 
 The bride she garned round about, 
 
 " I wonder," said she, " who this may be ? 
 
 It surely is our Scottish queen, 
 Come here our wedding for to see." 
 
 [From Buchan's Ballads of the North.] 
 
 " we were seven bonnie sisters, 
 As fair women as fair could be, 
 
 And some got lairds, and some got lords, 
 And some got knights o' high degree; 
 
 When I was married to Earl Crawford, 
 This was the fate that befell to me. 
 
 
 
 Out it speaks true Thomas's boy, 
 " She maunna lift her head sae hie; 
 
 But it's true Thomas's first love, 
 
 Come here your wedding for to see." 
 
 " When we had been married for some time, 
 We walked in our garden green; 
 
 And aye he clapp'd his young son's head, 
 And aye he made sae much o' him. 
 
 
 
 Then out bespake true Thomas's bride, 
 I wyte the tear did blind her e'e ; 
 
 " If this be Thomas's first true love, 
 I'm 6air afraid he'll ne'er ha'e me." 
 
 " I turn'd me right and round about, 
 And aye the blythe blink in my e'e; 
 Ye think as much o' your young son 
 & As ye do o' my fair body. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 148 
 
 " What need ye clap your young son's head, & 
 What need ye make so much o' him ? 
 
 What need ye clap your young son's head ? 
 I'm sure ye gotna him your lane." 
 
 " O if I gotna him my lane, 
 
 Show hsre the man that helped me ; 
 
 And for these words your ain mouth spoke, 
 Heir o' my land he ne'er shall be." 
 
 He call'd upon his stable groom, 
 
 To come to him right speedilie ; 
 " Gae saddle a steed to Lady Crawford, 
 
 Be sure ye do it hastilie. 
 
 " His bridle gilt wi' gude red gowd, 
 
 That it may glitter in her e'e ; 
 And send her on to bonnie Stobha.', 
 
 All her relations for to see." 
 
 Her mother lay o'er the castle vra', 
 And she beheld baith dale and down 
 
 And she beheld her, Lady Crawford, 
 As she came riding to the town. 
 
 " Come here, come here, my husband dear, 
 
 This day ye see not what I see ; 
 For here there comes her, Lady Crawford, 
 
 Biding alane upon the lee." 
 
 When she came to her father's yates, 
 
 She tirled gently at the pin; 
 " If ye sleep, awake, my mother dear, 
 
 Ye'll rise lat Lady Crawford in." 
 
 " What news, what news, ye Lady Crawford, 
 
 That ye come here so hastilie t" 
 " Bad news, bad news, my mother dear, 
 
 For my gude lord's forsaken me." 
 
 " O wae's me for you, Lady Crawford, 
 
 This is a dowie tale to me; 
 Alas ! you were too young married, 
 
 To thule sic cross and misery." 
 
 " O had your tongue, my mother dear, 
 
 And ye'll lat a' your folly be ; 
 It was a word my merry mouth spake, 
 
 That sinder'd my gude lord and me." 
 
 Out it spake her brither then, 
 
 Aye as he stept ben the floor ; 
 ** My sister Lillie was but eighteen years 
 
 When Earl Crawford wrong'd her sore. 
 
 " But had your tongue, my sister dear, 
 And ye'll lat a' your mourning bee; 
 
 I'll wed you to as fine a knight, 
 That is nine times as rich as hee." 
 
 " haud your tongue, my brither dear, 
 
 And yell lat a' your folly bee ; 
 I'd rather yae kiss o' Crawford's mouth 
 
 Than a' his gowd and white monie. 
 
 " But saddle to me my riding steed, 
 
 And see him saddled speedilie; 
 And I will on to Earl Crawford -, 
 
 And see if he will pity me." 
 
 Earl Crawford lay o'er castle via', 
 And he beheld baith dale and down ; 
 
 And he beheld her, Lady Crawford, 
 As she came riding to the town. 
 
 He called ane o' his livery men 
 To come to him right speedilie ; 
 
 " Gae shut my yates, gae steek my doors, 
 Keep Lady Crawford out frae me." 
 
 When she came to Earl Crawford's yates, 
 
 She tilled gently at the pin ; 
 " O sleep ye, wake ye, Earl Crawford, 
 
 Ye'll open, lat Lady Crawford in. 
 
 " Come down, come down, O Earl Crawford, 
 And speak sume comfort unto me; 
 
 And if ye winna come yoursel', 
 Ye'll send your gentleman to me." 
 
 " Indeed, I winna come myse!', 
 Nor send my gentleman to thee; 
 
 For I tauld you when we did part 
 Kae mair my spouse ye'd ever bee.*- 
 
 She laid her mouth then to the yatej, 
 And aye the tears drapt frae her e'e; 
 
 Says, " i'are-ye-well, Earl Crawford's yates 
 You, again, I'll nae mair see." 
 
 Earl Crawford call'd on his stable groom 
 To come to him right speedilie ; 
 
 And sae did he his waiting man, 
 That did attend his fair bodie. 
 
 " Ye will gae saddle for me my steed. 
 And see and saddle him speedilie ; 
 
 And I'll gang to the Lady Crawford, 
 And see if she will pity me." 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 149 
 
 lady Crawford lay o'er castle wa', 
 
 And she beheld baith dale and down ; 
 
 And she beheld him, Earl Crawford, 
 As he came riding to the town. 
 
 Then she has call'd ane o' her maids 
 
 To come to her right speedilie ; 
 " Gae shut my yates, gae steek my doors, 
 
 Keep Earl Crawford out frae me." 
 
 WTien he came to Lady Crawford's yates, 
 
 He tirled gently at the pin ; 
 " Sleep ye, wake ye, Lady Crawford, 
 
 Te'll rise and lat Earl Crawford in. 
 
 " Come down, come down, O Lady Crawford, 
 Come down, come down, and speak w 
 me; 
 
 And gin ye winna come yoursel', 
 
 Ye'll send your waiting-maid to me." 
 
 " Indeed I winna come mysel', 
 
 Nor send my waiting-maid to thee ; 
 
 Sae take your ain words hame again 
 At Crawford castle ye tauld me. 
 
 "O mother dear gae make my bed, 
 And ye will make it salt and suun', 
 
 And turn my face unto the west, 
 That I nae mair may see the sun." 
 
 Her mother she did make her bed, 
 And she did make it saft and soun*; 
 
 True were the words fair Lillie spake, 
 Her lovely eyes ne'er saw the sun. 
 
 The Earl Crawford mounted his steed, 
 WV sorrows great he did ride hame; 
 
 But ere the morning sun appear'd, 
 This fine lord was dead and gane. 
 
 Then on a'e night this couple died, 
 And baith were buried in a'e tomb ; 
 
 Let this a warning be to all, 
 
 Their pride may not bring them low dowi 
 
 %Q§n ®tjowmseii & tij* ©u*fe« 
 
 ife man,' the 4th line of each stanza being ' God 
 gif ye war John Thomsoun, man !* In his note 
 on this poem, Mr Pinkerton says i ' This is a pro- 
 verbial expression, meaning a hen-pecked hus- 
 band. I have little doubt but the original pro- 
 verb was Joan Thomson's man ; man, in Scot- 
 land, signifies either husband or servant.' Pin- 
 kerton was ignorant of the existence of the bal- 
 lad: had he been acquainted with it, he would 
 have saved himself the trouble of writing a fool- 
 ish conjecture. Colville in his Whig's Supplica- 
 tion, or the Scotch Hudibras, alludes twice to 
 John Thomson : 
 
 " We read in greatest warriors' lives. 
 
 They ot't were ruled by their wives, &C 
 
 And so the imperious Roxalan 
 
 Made the great Turk johue Thomson's man.' 
 
 ' And these we ken, 
 
 Hare ever been John Thomson's men, 
 That is still ruled by their wives.' 
 
 "Pennicuick, in his Linton address to the 
 Prince of Orange, also alludes to the prove: bial 
 expression — 
 
 ■ Our Lintoun wives shall blaw the coal, 
 And women here, as weel we ken, 
 ■Would have us all John Thomson's men.' 
 
 "Two or three stanzas of the ballad were known 
 to Dr Leyden when he published his addition of 
 the Complaynt of Scotland. These he has given 
 in the glossary appended to that work. 
 
 " In Kelly's proverbs, London, 1721, there is 
 this notice of the proverb — ' Better be John 
 Thonsou's man than Eingan Dinn's or John 
 Knox'6,' and Kelly gives this gloss, ' John 
 Thomson's man is he that is complaisant to his 
 wife's humours, Ringan Dinns is he whom his 
 wife scolds, John Knox's is he whom his wife 
 beats.' In the west country, my friend, Mr A. 
 Ciawford, informs me that when a company are 
 sitting together, sociably, and a neighbour drops 
 in, it is usual to welcome him thus : — ' Come 
 awa', we're a' John Tamson's bairns.' 
 
 " There is a song about John Tamson's wal- 
 let, but whether this was the Palmer's scrip, 
 which the hero of the ballad must have borne, I 
 know not. All that I have heard concerning 
 the wallet is contained in these two verses : 
 
 [" This curious ballad is of respectable anti- 
 quity. Dunbar has written a piece entitled 
 'Prayer that the King war John Thonj60un's ^ 
 
 ' John Tamson's wallet frae end to end, 
 John Tamson's wallet frae end to end; 
 And what was in't ye fain would ken, 
 ■Whigmateenes for women and men. 
 
150 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 About his wallet there was a dispute, 
 Some said it was made o' the skin o' a brute, 
 But I believe its made o' the best o' bend, 
 John Tamson's wallet's frae end to end.' 
 
 There is a nursery ryme which runs thus: 
 
 « John Tamson and his mau 
 To the town ran ; 
 They bought and they sold 
 And the penny down told. 
 The kirk was ane, 
 The quire was twa; 
 They gied a skelp, 
 And cam' awa'.' 
 
 And this exhausts all I know respecting this 
 worthy warrior." — Motherwell.'] 
 
 John Thomson fought against the Turks 
 Three years, intill a far countrie; 
 
 And all that time and something mair, 
 "Was absent from his gay ladie. 
 
 But it fell ance upon a time, 
 
 As this young chieftain sat alane, 
 
 He spied his lady in rich array, 
 As she walk'd ower a rural plain. 
 
 " What brought ye here, my lady gay, 
 So far awa' from your ain countrie :* 
 
 I've thought lang, and very lang, 
 And all for your fair face to see." 
 
 For some days she did with him stay, 
 
 Till it fell ance upon a day, 
 " Fareweel, for a time," she said, 
 
 " For now I must bouu hame away." 
 
 He's gi'en to her a jewel fine, 
 
 Was set with pearl and precious stane ; 
 Says, " My love beware of these savages bold, 
 
 That's in your way as ye gang hame. 
 
 " Te'll tak' the road, my lady fair, 
 That leads you fair across the lea: 
 
 That keeps you from wild Hind Soldan, 
 And likewise from base Violentrie." 
 
 Wi' heavy heart thir twa did pairt, 
 She mintet as she wuld gae hame; 
 
 Hind Soldan by the Greeks was slain, 
 But to base Violentrie she's gane. 
 
 When a twelvemonth had expired, 
 John Thomson he thought wond'rous lang. 
 
 And he has written a braid letter, 
 And sealed it weel wi' his ain hand. 
 
 He sent it with a small vessel 
 
 That there was quickly gaun to sea; 
 
 And sent it on to fair Scotland, 
 To see about his gay ladie. 
 
 But the answer he received again— 
 
 The lines did grieve hia heart right sair: 
 
 Nane of her friends there had her seen, 
 For a twelvemonth and something mair. 
 
 Then he put on a palmer's weed, 
 And took a pike-staff in his hand ; 
 
 To Violentrie's castell he hied, 
 But slowly slowly he did gang. 
 
 When within the hall he came, 
 
 He jooked and couch'd out ower his tree— 
 "If ye be lady of this hall, 
 
 Some of your good bountith gi'e me." 
 
 " What news, what news, palmer," she said, 
 " And from what countrie cam' ye P" 
 
 " I'm lately come from Grecian plains, 
 Where lies some of the Scots armie." 
 
 "If ye be come from Grecian plains, 
 Some mair news I will ask of thee — 
 
 Of one of the chieftains that lies there, 
 If he has lately seen his gay ladie." 
 
 " It is twa months and something mair, 
 Since we did pairt on yonder plain ; 
 
 And now this knight has began to fear 
 One of his foes he has her ta'en." 
 
 " He has not ta'en me by force nor slight, 
 
 It was a' by my ain free will ; 
 He may tarry into the fight, 
 
 For here 1 mean to tarry still. 
 
 " And if John Thomson ye do see, 
 Tell him I wish him silent sleep; 
 
 His head was not so coziely, 
 
 Nor yet sae weel as lies at my feet." 
 
 With that he threw aff his strange disguise, 
 Laid by the mask that he had on ; 
 
 Said, " Hide me now, my lady fair, 
 For Violentrie will soon be hame." 
 
 " For the love I bore thee ance, 
 I'll strive to hide you if I can." 
 
 Then she put him down in a dark cellar, 
 Where there lay many a new-slain man. 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 151 
 
 Bat he hadua in the cellar been, 
 Not an hour but barely three, 
 
 Then hideous was the noise he heard, 
 When in at the gate cam' Tiolentrie. 
 
 Says, " I wish you well, my lady fair, 
 
 Its time for us to sit to dine; 
 Come, 3erve me with the good white bread, 
 
 And likewise with the claret wine. 
 
 " That Scots chieftain, our mortal fae, 
 Sae aft frae field has made us flee, 
 
 Ten thousand zechins this day I'll give 
 That I his face could only see." 
 
 " Of that same gift wuld you give me, 
 If I wuld bring him unto thee ? 
 
 I fairly hold you at your word — 
 
 Come ben John Thomson to my lord." 
 
 Then from the vault John Thomson came, 
 Wringing his hands most piteouslie, 
 
 " What would ye do," the Turk he cried, 
 " If ye had me as I ha'e thee ?" 
 
 " If I had you as ye have me, 
 I'll tell ye what I'd do to thee ; 
 
 I'd hang you up in good green wood, 
 And cause your ain hand wale the tree. 
 
 " I meant to stick you with my kniie 
 For kissing my beloved ladie" — 
 
 " But that same weed ye've shaped for me, 
 It quickly shall be sewed for thee." 
 
 Then to the wood they baith are gane ; 
 
 John Thomson clamb frae tree to tree; 
 And aye he sighed and said, " och hone, 
 
 Here comes the day that I must die." 
 
 He tied a ribbon on every branch. 
 Put up a flag his men might see; 
 
 But little did his fause faes ken 
 He meant them any injurie. 
 
 He set his horn unto his mouth, 
 
 And he has blawn baith loud and schill: 
 
 And then three thousand armed men 
 Cam' tripping all out ower the hill. 
 
 " Deliver us, our chief," they all did cry, 
 " Its by our hand that ye must die;" 
 
 " Here is your chief," the Turk replied, 
 With that fell on his bended knee. 
 
 " O mercy, mercy, good fellows all, 
 Mercy, I pray you'll grant to me ;" 
 
 " Such mercy as ye meant to give, 
 Such mercy we shall give to thee." 
 
 This Turk they in his castel burnt, 
 That stood upon yon hill so hie ; 
 
 John Thomson's gay ladie they took 
 
 And hang'd her on yon greenwood tree / 
 
 HBatl Efoii&iSage. 
 
 [Modern Ballad. — By John Nevay. — It is 
 well known in the north, that a deadly feud 
 existed between the Lindsays and Ogilvies. The 
 story in the present ballad is an episode in the 
 history of the rival houses.] 
 
 When, in yon dark -red mouldering towers, 
 
 By Lemla's muddy bourne, 
 The fierce Lindsaye, with feudal sway, 
 
 Made many a vassal'mourn, 
 
 Behind Phinaven's fir-crown'd hill 
 
 A shepherd's shieling stood ; 
 And with him wonn'd his shepherdess, 
 
 His Marion, fair and good. 
 
 j To sing the lovely maiden's charms 
 
 Foil'd every minstrel's skill ; 
 i And legend says — there ne'er was lass 
 I Like Marion of the hill ! 
 
 No marvel then that she should be 
 
 Her fathers joy and pride; 
 And though he wish'd, yet much he fear'a 
 
 To see his child a bride. 
 
 Blythe tended she her happy flock 
 
 On yon green sunny brae; 
 Blythe walk'd in harvest on yon hill 
 
 To pull the berries blae. 
 
 I Oft by the fount, that from the rook 
 
 Still trickles cool and clear, 
 I She sat and sang till echoes rang, 
 
 Which she much liked to hear. 
 
 Earl Lindsaye, there, oft saw the fair 
 
 As he rode hunting by; 
 And he would leave the knights and 'squires, 
 
 With passion in his eye— 
 
152 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 " O, by the rood ! I have not seen, 
 
 Amang our damsels bright, 
 Such eyne as these, so formed to please, 
 
 And give an earl delight!" 
 
 The maiden blushed, and fixed her eyes 
 On the young gowan's flower: 
 
 Her heart was innocent as it, 
 And fear'd no earthly power. 
 
 The earl rode on, and to the chase, 
 
 Still he on Marion thought; 
 But dark his soul, as were his looks, 
 
 He set that soul to plot. 
 
 He loved no one upon the earth, 
 
 And no one e'er loved him ; 
 Even his own children, when they durst, 
 
 Would shun his presence grim ! 
 
 None on the earth he fear'd but one — 
 
 The widow of the den ! 
 He thought she was a midnight witch 
 
 To weird the fate of men. 
 
 She was a spinster of the sun, 
 And 'rose with morning wan; 
 
 Fine, as the gossamer, the threads 
 Her bonnie fingers span. 
 
 As the earl rode by the hovel door 
 
 To hunt the love-eyed stag, 
 A feigned smile trembled in his eye 
 
 To the supposed hag. 
 
 With fear he rnark'd her small grey eyne; 
 
 And if their look was bland, 
 He rode ; and many an antler bright 
 
 That day lay on the land ! 
 
 But should his black steed halt and snort, 
 His hounds howl as they pass'd, 
 
 Back to his gloomy towers he sped, 
 Lest he, by cantrip-cast, 
 
 Might o'er yon dizzy craig be flung, 
 
 Mangled among the gorse ! 
 Nor vain his fears — old Janet had 
 
 For him a secret curse. 
 
 Young Duncan was the widow's son ; 
 
 He loved the shepherds child ; 
 And he was blest as ble6t could be 
 
 When Marion on him smiled. 
 
 To win the simple maiden's heart 
 
 No artful wiles had he; 
 His love for her was warm and true 
 
 As sunshine to the tree. 
 
 And he would chase the fox and wolf 
 
 That took her lambs away ; 
 And on the hill the adder kill 
 
 That in her flower-path lay. 
 
 And he would tear the eagle from 
 
 His eyry on the rock, 
 And lay him stretch'd before his love, 
 
 Beside her bleating flock. 
 
 From infancy he was inured 
 
 To sun -heat, and to storm; 
 A muscular and stalwart youth, 
 
 Firm as the oak his form. 
 
 His arm was strength, his foot was speed, 
 His heart truth's purest glow; 
 
 Uncap 'd he went; and on the bent 
 He oft outran the roe ! 
 
 Yea, by the antlers he would take 
 
 The irritated stag; 
 And from his keep, in forest deep, 
 
 The desert's idol drag ! 
 
 Yet, though in strength a Hercules, 
 
 He, as the kid, was meek, — 
 Knew not to boast, — good-natured still. 
 
 And helper of the weak. 
 
 His dam, with a peculiar love, 
 
 Loved her gallant boy; 
 In him she saw his father's strength, 
 
 His kindness, and his joy. 
 
 She knew he was her champion 
 To avenge the wrongs of three — 
 
 Himself, his mother — father too, 
 Who died on gallows-tree. 
 
 Earl Lindsaye plotted day and night, 
 
 In tower, and forest wild, 
 How he could snare, to his foul lair, 
 
 The shepherd's lovely child. 
 
 At last his heart devised an art, 
 A witching scheme, and rare: 
 
 He had a harper of such power, 
 It joy gave to despair ! 
 
 I 
 

 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 153 
 
 
 Young Marion loved the lark's love-song, 4b Soon in the castle's gayest bower. 
 
 
 
 Loved all the woodland quire; 
 
 And on the softest couch, 
 
 
 
 But she had never heard the harp 
 
 The sleeping shepherdess was laid; 
 
 
 
 Whose strains the soul inspire ! 
 
 But no rude hand dare touch, — 
 
 
 
 'Xwixt Catlaw and his brother-alp 
 
 For, over sacred innocence 
 
 
 
 Shone eve's mild-rajing sun ; 
 
 May guardian angel be ; 
 
 
 
 And there was a soft golden light 
 
 Whiie guilt in his own snare is caught, 
 
 
 
 On vale and mountain dun. 
 
 His own ill destiny. 
 
 
 
 Penn'd was the flock — her care and joy; 
 
 The shepherd's daughter-child is lost; 
 
 
 
 And, with her own fair lamb, 
 
 And well might be surmise, 
 
 
 
 Adown the footpath midst the broom, 
 
 That she is in Earl Lindsaye's power, 
 
 
 
 When all things breathed of balm, 
 
 And sad in secret sighs. 
 
 
 
 The maiden took her vesper walk ; 
 
 Now should he dare his plaint to make, 
 
 
 
 The breeze was lull'd to sleep, 
 
 The pit, the axe, and bl< ck, — 
 
 
 
 And even the aspen rustled not; 
 
 The dungeon-cell, and gibbet-tree, 
 
 
 
 With soft and silvery sweep 
 
 His misery would mock! 
 
 
 
 The Esk was scarcely heard to flow ; 
 
 He left his shieling,— left his flock 
 
 
 
 While, on her raptured ear, 
 
 On the green hills to stray : 
 
 
 
 Fell strain so sweet, so bland, so pure, 
 
 His faithful dog tended the sheep 
 
 
 
 It seem'd from heavenly sphere ! 
 
 For two nights and a day. 
 
 
 
 She paused — she listened ; it was gone ! 
 
 Meanwhile, young Duncan dearn'd the wood, 
 
 
 
 And she resumed her walk : 
 
 And den and cave search'd he ; 
 
 
 
 "0, could 1 hear that strain again:" 
 
 Ah ! he but found his Marion's lamb 
 
 
 
 Was Marion's mental talk. 
 
 Under the greenwood tree. 
 
 
 
 Of fays and fairies she had heard, 
 
 He claspt it in his arms, and took 
 
 
 
 Of their music sweet and bland ; 
 
 The silent mourner home: 
 
 
 
 It, haply, might be them, she thought, 
 
 " 0, now my mother ! feed this lamb, 
 
 
 
 From happy fairy-land. 
 
 For I again must roam !" 
 
 
 
 'Twas play'd again — and sweeter still 
 
 " My boy," she said, " I gang wi' thee ; 
 
 
 
 The fascinating air! 
 
 We'll 6eek the tint thegither; 
 
 
 
 •Twas in the wood, not distant far, 
 
 She is thy love, she eke is mine, 
 
 
 
 And Marion entered there. 
 
 An' she loved me as a mither." 
 
 
 
 The summer sun, with setting beam, 
 
 Away, between the light and dark, 
 
 
 
 On the green trees shone bright; 
 
 The son and mother went; 
 
 
 
 Her s.lvan path was green and gold, 
 
 And long ere yet the sun was in 
 
 
 
 And music gave delight. 
 
 The mist-veiled firmament, 
 
 
 
 The damsel laid her down to rest, 
 
 By Lemla's sluggish stream they stood, 
 
 
 
 So oharm'd, she almost wept ! 
 
 Beneath the fatal tree, 
 
 
 
 The siren-harp play'd on and on — 
 
 Whereon the husband— father died, 
 
 
 
 Her heart o'erpower'd, she slept! 
 
 But not for felony. 
 
 
 
 For this the tyrant's vassal-slaves 
 
 " Look up, my boy ! there is the tower 
 
 
 
 Prepared had duly been : — 
 
 That choked thy father's breath ! 
 
 
 
 On eider-couch they bore her through 
 
 Hew down that branch ! for it maun help 
 
 
 
 The forest's deep serene. \ 
 
 } To do a deed of death ! 
 
 
 
 
164 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLAD-. 
 
 "By dawn o morn, Karl Lindsaye took 
 
 Your father frae my side, 
 Because I wadna sair his lust 
 
 Whan I was a young bride. 
 
 " He hangit your father on that tree, 
 
 Wi' this same widdie-raip; 
 The bloody Earl stood by the while, 
 
 An' leugh at his death-gaip ! 
 
 " Thy heart is bald, thy arm is Strang 
 
 To wield thi3 rung o' aik ; 
 Beneath this tree, then, swear to me, 
 
 Earl Lindsaye's lite to take." 
 
 An uncouth laugh burst from his heart, 
 
 Then he his mother kiss'd : 
 " That i will do, my mother dear, 
 
 Or may 1 ne'er be blest '." 
 
 The curse was out ! the murderer's days 
 
 "Were numbered on the spot. 
 The son and mother went their way 
 
 To their secluded cot. 
 
 The mist-cloud, floating o'er the vale, 
 
 Seemed an aerial lake ; 
 While on the dark blue hills afar 
 
 The sun was seen to break. 
 
 Up 'rose the kernes ; anon the reek 
 
 From many a hut 'gan curl ; 
 The strong and lusty steers were yoked 
 
 By the bare-headed churl. 
 
 Ear west the hill a horn was blown, 
 Till strath and mountain rang; 
 
 Another from Phinaven's towers 
 Answer'd with sullen twang. 
 
 Earl Lindsaye heard, and curl'd his lip — 
 
 He knew the distant horn; 
 And there were din and hurry in 
 
 Phinaven's towers that morn : 
 
 The clasping of maily armour on, 
 And girding of glaive and sword; 
 
 The warders trode, the Lindsayes rode 
 O'er dyke, and ditch, and ford. 
 
 First on the green, in his clotted mail, 
 
 Earl Lindsaye stood, with his black blood- 
 He cursed the groom for a lazy loon, [hound; 
 And fell'd the caitiff to the ground! 
 
 He chid the sun as his rising ray 
 
 Play'd on his visage dark, 
 He fix'd his steel cap on his brow, 
 
 And cursed the cheerful lark i 
 
 The Lindsayes gather'd fast and strong 
 
 On the smooth bowling-park: 
 Their life was feud, and they joy'd in blood— 
 
 Their hearts and homes were dark. 
 
 In breathless haste came from the west 
 
 A simple peasant man : 
 " Earl Airly is on Phinaven's hill, 
 
 Wi' his brave hielan' clan." 
 
 A cloud came o'er Earl Lindsaye's brow 
 That struck the kerne with dread: 
 
 " Now give the coward loon a groat, 
 — But see you take his head . ' 
 
 Loud from the western bartizan, 
 
 The warder blew his h-irn ; 
 Answered another from the hill, 
 
 Bold sounding scorn for scorn. 
 
 With Airly and his merry knights 
 
 The good old she; herd sto a , 
 He had sought their aid to retrieve the- rr.aid— 
 
 His Marion fair and good. 
 
 Many and oft have sought the aid 
 
 Of the noble Ogil vie, 
 Nor sought in vaia— :i gold or steel 
 
 The applicant can frte. 
 
 Toung Duncan 's out, the mother, too, 
 
 Her silvan hovel leaves . 
 " Revenge ! revenge !" she cried, and fired 
 
 The dark hut's broomy eaves. 
 
 Quick spread the flame ! the rafters crack'd 
 
 The wind burst froai its cioud; 
 It caught the blaze and fired the trees; — 
 
 The widow laugh'd aloud! 
 
 Thick from the den the adders sprang 
 
 Across the beaten path ; 
 Up rode the Lindsaye -clan, and saw 
 
 The weird-hag in her wrath '. 
 
 Her snakes twined round the black blood- 
 And stung him to the death ' I hound, 
 
 " Next Lindsaye dies !" the widow cries, 
 "Follow me to the heath!" 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 155 
 
 
 But, a stern Scot, his heart quail'd not : ( 
 " Come on, brave knights ! with me; 
 
 I have the will, but cannot kill 
 That hag of devilry !" 
 
 ^ By hoof and fetlock Duncan grasp'd 
 Earl Lindsaye's foaming steed — 
 Down horse and rider came ! The knights 
 All mute beheld the deed. 
 
 
 
 The chase was o'er : twa stags had bled, 
 And red were horse and man ; 
 
 Rode up the good and valiant knights, 
 With Airly in the van. 
 
 "Now draw the Tiger-Earl's braid sword 
 
 Against mine aiken rung! 
 Ken ye this twig, ye murderer ? 
 
 On it my dad ye hung. 
 
 
 
 Arrayed they stood in bitter feud, 
 And burning clan view'd clan ; 
 
 "While Airly spoke: " Lord Lindsaye! dost 
 Thou ken this good old man ? 
 
 "On thee will I avenge his death, 
 His wraith now gi'es me strength!" 
 
 He struck Earl Lindsaye's flashing blade— 
 A yard fell from its length. 
 
 
 
 " Know'st thou of his lost daughter fair ? 
 
 If she be in thy power, 
 Restore her to her father's heart 
 
 Within this very hour '." 
 
 " Fling owre the craig that broken thing, 
 
 As I toss my staff o' aik ; 
 Now you or 1 maun follow it 
 
 For my murdered father's sake !' 
 
 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! 'tis easy so to vaunt ! 
 
 I love the peasant-girl. 
 Proud Ogilvie ! be thine the plea 
 
 Of the old craven churl." 
 
 And now they grappled stiff and stern— 
 They knew 'twas life or death ; 
 
 But Duncan's hand was like a vice, 
 His foot strong on the heath. 
 
 
 
 " Lord Lindsaye I nor hate nor fear; 
 
 Justice and God our word. 
 Come on with me, my chivalry ! 
 
 A good cause whets the sword." 
 
 Like friends they hug, like fiends they tug, 
 And still, as bull-dogs, mute ; 
 
 Till on the precipice is placed 
 Earl Lindsaye's trembling foot! 
 
 
 
 Quick as the red bolt from the cloud 
 Flash'd glaive and sword from sheath ! 
 
 Whi e mid the host the weird crone rushed, 
 And gave a pause to death. 
 
 Now bend they o'er the fearful crag — 
 
 Full forty fathoms deep ! 
 As if from hell the witch did yell, 
 
 And sprang toward the steep 1 
 
 
 
 " Yet hear my prayer, thou murderer 1 
 
 My curse be on thy head ! 
 Thou shalt not die but by his hand 
 
 Wham thou an orphan made !" 
 
 One o'er the brink is toppled down, 
 The crash sounds horridly ! 
 
 A shiver thrills the stoutest heart; 
 The Lindsayes turn and flee. 
 
 
 
 As bounds the lion from the copse, 
 Young Duncan forward rushed ! 
 
 Thus challenged by a peasant youth, 
 Blood-red the Lindsaye blushed. 
 
 The widow howl'd an eldritch laugh. 
 
 Then wept for very joy ; 
 She thanked God ; she elaspt her son, 
 
 And call'd him gallant boy. 
 
 
 
 Now Airly's kinsmen laugh'd outright 
 The unequal match to see; 
 
 Which blew the fire of Lindsaye's ire 
 Against the Ogilvie. 
 
 " Now will your father's spirit rest; 
 
 Now we ha'e won his love; 
 Nae mair he'll haunt the den unblest, 
 
 But fly in his cloud above!" 
 
 
 
 "Comedown, Earl Lindsaye!" Duncan cried, 
 "An' shake a paw wi' me ! 
 Oich ! gin ye winna wi' gude will, 
 
 I'll help my lord a wee." { 
 
 In durance-bower the shepherd's flowei 
 
 Lone drooping sheds the tear; 
 The lover-youth, through ways uncouth 
 'f Runs quick as hunted deer. 
 
 
 
 
156 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 The Lindsayes sly, in ambush lie : 
 
 " He comes !" they softly cried 
 Bis arrows 6tuck round Duncan's heart! 
 
 Hejump'd — he fell — and died. 
 
 Earl Airly, with his gallant knights, 
 
 Stands by the castle-wall : 
 By noble deed the maid is freed, — 
 
 She saw the Lindsayes fall. 
 
 Airly, the grateful blushing maid, 
 
 To her glad father gave ; 
 He on his knee blest the Ogilvie, 
 
 The generous and the brave. 
 
 " Now drive your flocks to Airly's hills, 
 And tend them there in peace; 
 
 And from this hour may tyrant power 
 For aye in Scotland cease." 
 
 " Haste ! burn that clog and bloody axe, 
 
 And shut that hell of death ! 
 That block no more shall drink man's gore, 
 
 That dark pond drown his breath I" 
 
 So Airly spoke ; then turned his steed 
 
 From many a horrid sight. 
 The battle won, o'er vale and dun 
 
 Rode he with squire and knight. 
 
 From war's alarms to love's soft charms 
 
 Lady Airly hail'd her lord ; 
 And with her fair hand wreathed green bays 
 
 Around the chieftain's sword. 
 
 In Airly's halls, in wassail glee, 
 
 Is held the festal night; 
 Along the hills the pibroch trills, 
 
 The Highland chiefs delight. 
 
 And in the hall the festival 
 
 Is cheer'd by many a string : 
 " In social life forget the strife," 
 
 The wine-joy'd minstrels sing. 
 
 ®jje #tp|aw JMail. 
 
 [From " A Legend of Montrose," where it is 
 said to be a translation from the Gaelic, with, 
 perhaps, about the same truth as Ossian is a 
 
 translation.] 
 
 November's hail-cloud drifts away, 
 
 November's sunbeam wan 
 Looks coldly on the castle grey, 
 
 When forth comes lady Anne. 
 
 The orphan by the oak was set, 
 Her arms, her feet, were bare, 
 
 The hail-drops had not melted, yet, 
 Amid her raven hair. 
 
 " And, dame," she said, " by all the ties 
 
 That child and mother know, 
 Aid one who never knew these joye, 
 
 Relieve an orphan's woe." 
 
 The lady said, "An orphan's state 
 
 Is hard and sad to bear; 
 Yet worse the widow'd mother's fate, 
 
 Who mourns both lord and heir. 
 
 " Twelve times the rolling year has sped, 
 Since when from vengeance wild 
 
 Of fierce Strathallan's chief 1 fled, 
 Forth's eddies whelm'd my child." 
 
 " Twelve times the year its course has bora, 1 
 
 The wandering maid replied, 
 " Since fishers on St Bridget's morn 
 
 Drew nets on Campsie side. 
 
 " St Bridget sent no scaly spoil;— 
 
 An infant, wellnigh dead, 
 They saved, and rear'd in want and toil, 
 
 To beg from you her bread." 
 
 That orphan maid the lady kiss'd— 
 " My husband's looks you bear; 
 
 St Bridget and her morn be bless'd 1 
 You are his widow's heir." 
 
 They've robed that maid, so poor and 'pale, 
 
 In silk and sandals rare; 
 And pearls, for drops of frozen hail 
 
 Are glistening in her hair. 
 
 ®£)wugi) tjjje 8Eooi&. 
 
 [Modern Ballad. — William Anderson.] 
 
 Through the wood, through the wood. 
 Warbles the merle ! 
 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 157 
 
 Through the wood, through the wood, 
 
 Gallops the earl ! 
 Yet he heads not its sons 
 
 As it sinks on his ear, 
 For he lists to a voice 
 
 Than its music more dear. 
 
 Through the wood, through the wood, 
 
 Once and away, 
 The castle is gain"d, 
 
 And the lady is gay . 
 When her smile waxes sad, 
 
 And her eyes become dim; 
 Her bosom is glad, 
 
 If she gazes on him ! 
 
 Through the wood, through the wood, 
 
 Over the wold, 
 Rides onward a band 
 
 Ot" true warriors bold ■ 
 They stop not for forest, 
 
 They halt not for water ; 
 Their chieftain in sorrow 
 
 Is seeking bis daughter. 
 
 Through the wood, through the wood, 
 
 Warbles the merle; 
 Through the wood, through the wood, 
 
 Prances the earl ; 
 And on a gay palfrey 
 
 Comes pacing hi3 bride ; 
 While an old man sits smiling, 
 
 In joy, by her side. 
 
 S£e tfoa 2$xoi5erjJ. 
 
 [" Thb domestic tragedy which this affscting 
 ballad coir.m tin orates is not without a precedent 
 in real history ; nay, we are almost inclined to 
 believe that it originated in the following melan- 
 choly event. — 
 
 " * This year, 1589, in the moneth of July.ther 
 falls out a sad accident, as a further warneing 
 that God was displeased with the familie. The 
 Lord Sommervill haveing come from Cowthally, 
 eariie in the morning, in regaiid the weather 
 wi s hott. he had ridden hard to be at the Drum 
 be ten & clock, which having done, he laid him 
 
 down to rest. The servant, with his two sones, 
 William Master of Sommerv-U, and John his 
 brother, went with the horses to ane Shott of 
 land, called the Prety Shott, directly opposite 
 the front of the house where there was some 
 meadow ground for grassing the horses, and 
 willowes to shadow themselves from the heat. 
 They had not long continued in this place, when 
 the Master of Somervill efter some litle rest 
 awakeing from his sleep and finding his pistolles 
 that lay hard by him wett with the dew he began 
 to rub and dry them, when unhappily one of 
 them went off the ratch, being lying upon his 
 knee, and the muzel turned side-ways, the ball 
 strocke his brother John directly in the head, 
 and killed him outright, soe that his sorrowful 
 brother never had one word from him, albeit he 
 begged it with many teares.' — Memorie of the 
 Somervilles, Vol. I. p. 467. 
 
 "The reader will find in the first volume of 
 ' Popular Ballads and Songs' another edition of 
 this ballad, which, in point of merit, is perhaps 
 superior to the present copy. The third stanza 
 of that edition was however imperfect, and the 
 ingenious editor, Mr Jamieson, has supplied four 
 lines to render it complete. Excellent though 
 his interpolations generally are, it will be seen 
 | that, in this instance, he has quite misconceived 
 i the scope and tendency cf the piece on which he 
 was working, and in consequence has supplied a 
 I reading with which the rest of his own copy is at 
 complete variance, and which at same time 
 sweeps away the deep impression this simple 
 ballad would otherwise have made upon the 
 ! feelings ; for it is almost unnecessary to mention 
 | that its touching interest is made to centre in 
 the boundless sorrow, and cureless remorse, of 
 him who had been the unintentional cause of 
 his brother's death — and in the solicitude which 
 that high-minded and generous spirit expresses, 
 even in the last agonies of nature, for the safety 
 and fortunes of the truly wretched and unhappy 
 survivor. Mr Jamieson's addition is given 
 below.* — By that addition this ballad has been 
 altered in one of its most distinctive and essen- 
 
 * " The addition to the stanza in question is inclosed 
 by crotchets. 
 
 They warstled op, they warstled down. 
 
 The lee lang simmer's d.iy : 
 [And nane was near to part the strife 
 
 Ths 
 TUio 
 
 a mem tway, 
 
 id W illie's drawn the sword. 
 
 Ul out and « line s drawn the swora. 
 And did his brother slay."] — Motherwell. 
 

 
 
 158 SCOTTISH BALLADS 
 
 
 tial features; hence the present copy, which i 
 
 ^ " What will ye say to your father dear 
 
 
 
 preserves the genuine reading in the stanza 
 
 When ye gae hame at e'en t" 
 
 
 
 referred to, though it might have derived con- 
 
 " I'll say ye're lying at yon kirk style, 
 
 
 
 siderable improvements in other particulars 
 
 Whare the grass grows fair and green." 
 
 
 
 from the one given by Mr Jamieson, has, on the 
 
 
 
 
 whole, been preferred." — Motherwell.] 
 
 " no, no, my brother dear, 
 O you must not say so ; 
 
 
 
 There were twa brothers at the scule, 
 
 But say that I'm gane to a foreign land, 
 
 
 
 And when they got awa' — 
 
 Whare nae man does me know." 
 
 
 
 " It's will ye play at the stane-chucking, 
 
 
 
 
 Or will ye play at the ba', 
 
 When he sat in his father's chair 
 
 
 
 Or will ye gae up to yon hill head, 
 
 He grew baith pale and wan. 
 
 
 
 And there we'll warsell a fa'." 
 
 " what blude's that upon your brow ? 
 dear son tell to me." 
 
 
 
 " I winna play at the stane-chucking, 
 Nor will 1 play at the ba', 
 
 *' It is the blude o' my gude gray steed. 
 He wadna ride wi' me." 
 
 
 
 But I'll gae up to yon bonnie green hill, 
 
 
 
 
 And there we'll warsel a fa'." 
 
 " thy steed's blude was ne'er sae red, 
 Nor e'er sae dear to me : 
 
 
 
 They warsled up, they warsled down, 
 
 what blude's thi6 upon your cheek? 
 dear son tell to me." 
 
 
 
 Till John fell to the ground ; 
 A dirk fell out of William's pouch, 
 
 " It is the blude of my greyhound, 
 He wadna hunt for rue." 
 
 
 
 And gave John a deadly wound. 
 
 " thy hound's blude was ne'er sae red. 
 
 
 
 " lift me upon your back, 
 
 Nor e'er sae dear to me : 
 
 
 
 Take me to yon well fair; 
 
 what blude's this upon your hand? 
 
 
 
 And wash my bloody wounds o'er and o'er, 
 
 dear son tell to me." 
 
 
 
 And they'll ne'er bleed nae mair." 
 
 " It is the blude of my gay goss hawk, 
 He wadna flee for me." 
 
 
 
 He's lifted his brother upon his back, 
 
 
 
 
 Ta'en him to yon well fair; 
 
 " thy hawk's blude was ne'er sae red, 
 
 
 
 He's wash'd his bluidy wounds o'er and o'er, 
 
 Nor eer sae dear to me: 
 
 
 
 But they bleed ay mair and mair. 
 
 what blude's this upon your dirk ? 
 Dear Willie tell to me." 
 
 
 
 " Tak' ye a£f my Holland sark, 
 
 " It is the blude of my ae brother, 
 
 
 
 And rive it gair by gair, 
 
 dule and wae is me." 
 
 
 
 And row it in my bluidy wounds, 
 
 
 
 
 And they'll ne'er bleed nae mair." 
 
 " what will ye say to your father? 
 Dear Willie tell to me." 
 
 
 
 He's taken affhis Holland sark, 
 
 " I'll saddle my steed, and awa' I'll ride 
 
 
 
 And torn it gair by gair ; 
 
 To dwell in some far countrie." 
 
 
 
 He's rowit it in his bluidy wounds, 
 
 
 
 
 But they bleed ay mair and mair. 
 
 " O when will ye come hame again ? 
 Dear Willie tell to me." 
 
 
 
 " Tak* now aff my green cleiding, 
 
 " When sun and mune leap on yon hill, 
 
 
 
 And row me saftly in ; 
 
 And that will never be." 
 
 
 
 And tak' me up to yon kiik style, 
 
 
 
 
 Whare the grass grows fair and green." 
 
 She turn'd hersel' right round about. 
 And her heart burst into three : 
 
 
 
 He's taken aff the green cleiding, 
 
 " My ae best son is deid and gane, 
 
 
 
 And rowed him saftly in ; 
 
 And my tother ane I'll ne'er see." 
 
 
 
 He's laid him diwn Ly yon kirk style, 
 
 
 
 
 Whare the grass grows fair and green. 
 
 w — 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 159 
 
 
 ®|je th& 0l&%kiu®$< 
 
 ■ Then she became a duck, a duck, 
 Upon a reedy lake ; 
 And the smith wi' her to soom or dive, 
 
 
 
 [First printed in Mr Buchan's Ancient Bal- 
 
 Became a rose-kaim'd drake. 
 
 
 
 lads and Songs.] 
 
 bide, lady, &c. 
 
 
 
 The lady stands in her bower door, 
 
 She turn'd hersel' into a hare, 
 
 
 
 As straight as a willow wand ; 
 
 To rin ower hill and hollow, 
 
 
 
 The blacksmith stood a little forebye, 
 
 And he became a gude grey hound, 
 
 
 
 Wi* hammer in his hand. 
 
 And boldly he did follow. 
 bide, lady, &c. 
 
 
 
 " Weel may ye dress ye, lady fair, 
 
 
 
 
 Into your robes o' red, 
 
 Then she became a gay grey mare. 
 
 
 
 Before the morn at this same time, 
 
 And stood in yonder slack ; 
 
 
 
 I'll loose your silken snood." 
 
 And he became a gilt saddle, 
 And sat upon her back. 
 
 
 
 " Awa', awa', ye coal-black smith, 
 
 
 
 
 Would ye do me the wrang, 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 
 
 To think to gain my virgin love, 
 
 
 
 
 That 1 ha'e kept sae lang ?" 
 
 Was she wae, he held her sae, 
 And still he bade her bide; 
 
 
 
 Then she has hadden up her hand, 
 
 The rusty smith her leman was. 
 
 
 
 And she sware by the mold, 
 
 For a' her muckle pride. 
 
 
 
 " I wu'dna be a blacksmith's wife, 
 
 
 
 
 For the full o' a chest o' gold. 
 
 Then she became a het girdle, 
 And he became a cake ; 
 
 
 
 " I'd rather I were dead and gone, 
 
 And a' the ways she turn'd hersel', 
 
 
 
 And my body laid in grave, 
 
 The blacksmith was her make. 
 
 
 
 Ere a rusty stock o' coal-black smith, 
 
 Was she wae, &c. 
 
 
 
 My virgin love should have." 
 
 She turn'd hersel' into a ship, 
 
 
 
 But he has hadden up his hand, 
 
 To sail out ower the flood j 
 
 
 
 And he sware by the mass, 
 
 He ca'ed a nail intill her tail, 
 
 
 
 I'll cause ye be my light leman, 
 
 And syne the ship she stood. 
 
 
 
 For the hauf 0' that and less. 
 
 Was she wae, &c. 
 
 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Then she became a silken plaid, 
 And stretch'd upon a bed ; 
 
 
 
 bide, lady, bide, 
 
 And he became a green covering, 
 
 
 
 And aye he bade her bide 
 
 And thus the twa were wed. 
 
 
 
 The rusty smith your leman shall be, 
 
 Was she wae, &c. 
 
 
 
 For a' your muckle pride. 
 
 
 
 
 Then she became a turtle dow, 
 
 
 
 
 To fly up in the air ; 
 And he became another dow, 
 
 ®SJe 3P«k^ Eolfcr** 
 
 
 
 And they flew pair and pair. 
 
 
 
 
 bide, lady, &c. 
 
 [Fragment of a Scottish Ballad, by Eobert 
 Tannahill.] 
 
 
 
 She turn'd hersel' into an eel, 
 
 
 
 
 To swim into yon burn ; 
 
 " Wild drives the bitter northern blast, 
 
 
 
 And he became a speckled trout, 
 
 Fierce whirling wide the crispy snaw, 
 
 
 
 To gi'e the eel a turn. 
 
 Young lassie, turn your wand'ring steps, 
 
 
 
 bide, lady, & i 
 
 j> For e'ening's gloom begins to la' : 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 160 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 
 " I'll take you to my father's ha', 4& " Lord Ronald, stay till the early ooefe 
 
 
 
 And shield you from the wintry air, 
 
 Sail flap his siller wing ' 
 
 
 
 For, wand'ring through the drifting snaw, 
 
 An' saftly ye maun ope the gate, 
 
 
 
 I fear ye'll sink to rise nae mair." 
 
 An' loose the silken string." 
 
 
 
 "Ah ! gentle lady, airt my way 
 
 " O Ellenore, my fairest fair ' 
 
 
 
 Across this Ungsome, lonely moor, 
 
 Ellenore, my bride! 
 
 
 
 For he wha's dearest to my heart, 
 
 How can ye fear, when my merry men a' 
 
 
 
 Now waits me on the western shore. 
 
 Are on the mountain side ?" 
 
 
 
 " "With morn he spreads his outward sail, 
 
 The moon was hid, the night was gane, 
 
 
 
 This night I vow'd to meet him there, 
 
 But Ellenore's heart was wae : 
 
 
 
 To take ae secret fond fareweel. 
 
 She heard the cock flap his siller wing, 
 
 
 
 We maybe part to meet nae mair." 
 
 An' she watch'd the morning ray. 
 
 
 
 " Dear lassie, turn — 'twill be your dead ! 
 
 " Rise up, rise up, Lord Ronald, dear ! 
 
 
 
 The dreary waste lies far and wide; 
 
 The morning opes its e'e; 
 
 
 
 Abide till morn, and then ye'll ha'e 
 
 speed thee to thy father's towev, 
 
 
 
 My father's herd-boy for your guide." 
 
 An' safe, safe may thou be I" 
 
 
 
 " No, lady, — no ! I maun na turn, 
 
 But there was a page, a little fause page, 
 
 
 
 Impatient love now chides my stay, 
 
 Lord Ronald did espy, 
 
 
 
 Yon rising moon, with kindly beam, 
 
 An* he has told his baron all 
 
 
 
 Will light me on my weary way." 
 
 Where the hind and hart did lye. 
 
 
 
 "Ah! Donald, wherefore bounds thy heart! 
 
 "It isna for thee, but thine, Lord Ronald— 
 
 
 
 Why beams with joy thy wishful e'er - 
 
 Thy father's deeds o' weir! 
 
 
 
 Ton's but thy true luve's fleeting form, 
 
 But since the hind has come to my fauld. 
 
 
 
 Thy true love mair thou'lt never see. 
 
 His blood shall dim my spear." 
 
 
 
 " Deep in the hollow glen she lies, 
 
 Lord Ronald kiss'd fair Ellenore, 
 
 
 
 Amang the snaw, beneath the tree, 
 She soundly sleeps in death's cauld arms, 
 A victim to her love for thee." 
 
 An' press'd her lily hand ; 
 Sic a stately knight an' comely dame 
 Ne'er met in wedlock's band: 
 
 But the baron watch'd as he rais'd the latch 
 An' kiss'd again his bride. 
 
 
 
 &o*b Mowalft. 
 
 An' with his spear, in deadly ire, 
 He pierc'd Lord Ronald's side. 
 
 
 
 [Modern Ballad. — Robert Allan of Kil- 
 
 The life-blood fled frae fair Ellenore's cheek 
 
 
 
 barchan.] 
 
 She look'd all wan an' 'ghast; 
 She lean'd her down by Lord Ronald's side, 
 
 
 
 Lord Ronald cam' to his lady's bower, 
 
 An' the blood was rinnin' fast: 
 
 
 
 When the moon was in her wane; 
 
 
 
 
 Lord Ronald cam' at a late, late hour, 
 
 She clasped his hand an' she kiss'd his lip, 
 
 
 
 An' to her bower is gane 
 
 As she sigh'd her last adit-u ; 
 For never, never did lady love 
 
 
 
 He saftly stept in his sandal shoon, 
 
 Her lord with a heart so true ! 
 
 
 
 An' saftly laid him down : 
 
 
 
 
 " It's late, it's late, quoth Ellenore — 
 
 
 
 
 Syne ye maun wauken soon ! ; 
 
 r 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. JQJ 
 
 
 ^fe " But what's the little coin," she said. 
 
 
 
 ipEOttib EatojJ 0L&XQ&UL 
 
 " Wald buy my castle bound ? 
 
 And what's the little boat," she said, 
 
 " Can sail the world all round ?" 
 
 
 
 [From Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border.— 
 
 
 
 
 "This Ballad," says Sir Walter, "was com- 
 
 " hey, how mony small pennies 
 
 
 
 municated to the editor by Mr Hamilton, music- 
 
 Make thrice three thousand pound P 
 
 
 
 seller, Edinburgh, with whose mother it had 
 
 Or hey, how mony small fishes 
 
 
 
 been a favourite. Two verses and one line were 
 
 Swim a' the salt sea round ?" 
 
 
 
 wanting, which are here supplied from a diffe- 
 
 
 
 
 rent Ballad, having a plot somewhat similar. 
 
 " I think ye maun be my match," she said. 
 
 
 
 These verses are the 6th and 9th."] 
 
 " My match, and something mair, 
 You are the first e'er got the grant 
 
 
 
 'Twas on a night, an evening bright, 
 
 Of lore frae my father's heir. 
 
 
 
 When the dew began to fa', 
 
 
 
 
 Lady Margaret was walking up and down, 
 
 " My father was lord of nine castles, 
 
 
 
 Looking o'er her castle wa'. 
 
 My mother lady of three ; 
 My father was lord of nine castles, 
 
 
 
 She looked east, and she looked west, 
 
 And there's nane to heir but me. 
 
 
 
 To see what she could spy. 
 
 
 
 
 When a gallant knight came in her sight, 
 
 " And round about a' thae castles, 
 
 
 
 And to the gate drew nigh. 
 
 You may baith plow and saw, 
 And on the fifteenth day of May, 
 
 
 
 " You seem to be no gentleman, 
 
 The meadows they will maw." 
 
 
 
 You wear your boots so wide ; 
 
 
 
 
 But you seem to be some cunning hunter, 
 
 " O hald your tongue, lady Marg'ret," he 
 
 
 
 You wear the horn so syde." 
 
 For loud I hear you lie ! [said, 
 Your father was lord of nine castles, 
 
 
 
 " I am no cunning hunter," he said, 
 
 Your mother was lady of three; 
 
 
 
 " Nor ne'er intend to be; 
 
 Your father was lord of nine castles, 
 
 
 
 But I am come to this castle 
 
 But ye fa' heir to but three. 
 
 
 • 
 
 To seek the love of thee; 
 
 
 
 
 And if you do not grant me love, 
 
 " And round about a" thae castles, 
 
 
 
 This night for thee I'll die." 
 
 You may baith plow and saw, 
 But on the fifteenth day of May 
 
 
 
 " If you should die for me, sir knight, 
 
 The meadows will not maw. 
 
 
 
 There's few for you will mane, 
 
 
 
 
 For mony a better has died for me, 
 
 " I am your brother Willie," he said, 
 
 
 
 Whose graves are growing green. 
 
 " I trow ye ken na me ; 
 I came to humble your haughty heart 
 
 
 
 " But ye maun read my riddle," she said, 
 
 Has gar'd sae monie die." 
 
 
 
 " And answer my questions three; 
 
 
 
 
 And but ye read them right," she said, 
 
 "If ye be my brother Willie," she saiu, 
 
 
 
 " Gae stretch ye out and die. — 
 
 " As I trow weel ye be, 
 This night I'll neither eat nor drink, 
 
 
 
 "Now what is the flower, the ae first flower, 
 
 But gae alang wi' thee." 
 
 
 
 Springs either on moor or dale . J 
 
 "O hald your tongue, lady Marg'ret," he 
 
 
 
 And what is the bird, the bonnie bonnie bird, 
 
 " Again I hear you lie ; [said, 
 
 
 
 Sings on the evening gale ?" 
 
 For ye've unwashen hands, and ye've un- 
 To gae to clay wi' me. [washen feet,* 
 
 
 
 'The primrose is the ae first flower, 
 Springs either on moor or dale; 
 
 
 
 
 * Unwashen hands and unwashen feet — Allud- 
 
 
 
 And the thistlecuck is the bonniest bird, 
 
 ing to the custom of washing and dressing dead 
 
 
 
 S'ugs on the evening gale." ^ 
 
 } bodies. — Scott. 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 162 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 " For the wee worms are my oed-fellows, &\ " Indeed I am a courteous knight, 
 
 
 And cauld clay is my sheets ; 
 
 And of great pedigree ; 
 
 
 And when the stormy winds do blow, 
 
 Nae knight did mair for a lady bright 
 
 
 My body lies and sleeps." 
 
 Than I will do for thee. 
 " 0, I'll put smiths in your smithy, 
 
 
 
 To shoe for you a steed ; 
 And I'll put tailors in your bower, 
 
 
 ®jje g£ouxt*oug HMgtjt. 
 
 To make for you a weed. 
 " I will put cooks in your kitchen, 
 
 
 [This Ballad, similar in incident to the pre- 
 
 And butlers in your ha' ; 
 
 
 ceding, but more complete in narrative, is given 
 
 And on the tap o' your father's castle, 
 
 
 in Mr Buchan's Collection.] 
 
 I'll big gude coin and saw." 
 
 
 There was a knight, in a summer's night, 
 
 "If ye be a courteous knight, 
 
 
 Appear'd in a lady's hall, 
 
 As I trust not ye be ; 
 
 
 As she was walking up and down, 
 
 Ye'll answer some o' the sma' questions 
 
 
 Looking o'er her castle wall. 
 
 That I will ask at thee. 
 
 
 " God make you safe and free, fair maid, 
 
 " What is the fairest flower, tell me, 
 
 
 God make you safe and free '." 
 
 That grows in mire or dale ? 
 
 
 " O sae fa' you, ye courteous knight, 
 
 Likewise, which is the sweetest bird 
 
 
 What are your wills wi* me ?" 
 
 Sings next the nightingale ? 
 Or what's the finest thing," she says, 
 
 
 "My wills wi' you are not sma', lady, 
 
 " That king or queen can wale. J " 
 
 
 My wills wi' you nae sma' ; 
 
 
 
 And since there's nane your bower within, 
 
 " The primrose is the fairest flower, 
 
 
 Ye'se ha'e my secrets a'. 
 
 That grows in mire or dale; 
 The mavis is the sweet st bird 
 
 
 " For here am I a courtier, 
 
 Next to the nightingale ; 
 
 
 A courtier come to thee ; 
 
 And yellow gowd's the finest thing 
 
 
 And if ye winna grant your love, 
 
 That king or queen can wale. 
 
 
 All for your sake I'll dee." 
 
 
 
 " If that ye dee for me, sir knight, 
 
 " Ye ha'e asked many questions, lady, 
 I've you as many told ; 
 
 
 Few for you will make nieen ; 
 For mony gude lord's done the same, 
 
 But, how many pennies round 
 Make a hundred pounds in gold ? 
 
 
 Their graves are growing green." 
 
 
 
 "0 winna ye pity me, fair maid. 
 
 " How many of the small fishes 
 
 
 winna ye pity me ? 
 
 Do swim the salt seas round ? 
 
 
 winna ye pity a courteous knight, 
 
 Or, what's the seemliest sight you'll see 
 
 
 Whose love is laid on thee ?" 
 
 Into a May morning i>" 
 
 
 " Te say ye are a courteous knight, 
 
 " Berry-brown ale and a birken speal, 
 
 
 But I think ye are nane ; 
 
 And wine in a horn green ; 
 
 
 I think ye're but a miller bred, 
 
 A milk-white lace in a fair maid's dress, 
 
 
 By the colour o' your claitbing. 
 
 Looks gay in a May morning." 
 
 
 "You seem to be some false young man, 
 
 " Mony's the questions I've ask'd at thee, 
 
 
 You wear your hat sae wide ; 
 
 And ye've answer'd them a'; 
 
 
 You seem to be some false young man, 
 
 Ye are mine, and 1 am thine, 
 
 
 You wear your boots sae side." < 
 
 } Amo' the sheets sae sma'. 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 1G3 
 
 ** You may be my match., kind sir, 
 Tou may be my match and more; 
 
 There ne'er was ane came sic a length, 
 Wi" my father's heir before. 
 
 " My father's lord o' nine castles, 
 My mother she's lady ower three, 
 
 And there is nane to heir them all, 
 No never a ane but me ; 
 
 Unless it be Willie, my ae brother, 
 But he's far ayont the sea.' 
 
 "If your father's laird o* nine castles, 
 Your mother lady ower three ; 
 
 I am Willie youv ae brother, 
 Was far beyond the sea." 
 
 " If ye be Willie, my ae brother, 
 
 As I doubt sair ye be; 
 But if it's true ye tell me now, 
 
 This night I'll gang wi' thee." 
 
 " Ye've ower ill washen feet, Janet, 
 
 And ower ill washen hands, 
 And ower coarse robes on your body, 
 
 Alang wi* me to gang. 
 
 " The worms they are my bed-fellows, 
 
 And the cauld clay my sheet; 
 And the higher that the wind does blaw, 
 
 The sounder I do sleep. 
 
 " My body's buried in Dumfermline, 
 
 And far beyond the sea ; 
 But day nor night, nae rest could get, 
 
 All for the pride o' thee. 
 
 " Leave aff your pride, jelly Janet, " he says 
 
 " Use it not ony mair ; 
 Or when ye come where I ha'e been 
 
 You will repent it sair. 
 
 " Cast aff, cast aff, sister," he says, 
 " The gowd lace frae your crown ; 
 
 For if ye gang where I ha'e been, 
 Ye'ji wear it laigher down. 
 
 *' When ye're in the gude church set, 
 
 The gowd pins in your hair; 
 Ye take mair delight in your feckless dress, 
 
 Than ye do in your morning prayer. 
 
 " And when ye walk in the church yard, 
 
 And in your dress are seen, 
 There is nae lady that sees your face 
 
 But wishes your grave were green. 
 
 " You're straight and tall, handsome withall, 
 But your pride owergroes your wit; 
 
 But if ye do not your ways refrain, 
 In Pirie s chair ye'U sit. 
 
 " In Pirie's chair you'll sit, I say, 
 
 The lowest seat o' hell ; 
 If ye do not amend your ways, 
 
 It's there that ye must dwell." 
 
 Wi' that he vanish'd frae her sight, 
 
 Wi' the twinkling o' an eye; 
 Naething mair the lady saw, 
 
 But the gloomy clouds and sky. 
 
 [From Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border.— 
 " This ballad," says Sir Walter, " is a northern 
 composition, and seems to have been the original 
 of the legend called Sir Aldingar, which is print- 
 ed in the Reliques of Antient Poetry. The inci- 
 dents are nearly the same in both ballads, ex- 
 cepting that, in Aldingar, an angel combats for 
 the queen, instead of a mortal champion. The 
 names of Aldingar and Rodingham approach 
 near to each other in sound, though not in or- 
 1 1 thography, and the one might, by reciters, be 
 ! easily substituted for the other. I think I have 
 I : seen both the name and the story in an ancient 
 1 1 prose chronicle, but am unable to make any re- 
 : ! ference in support of my belief. The tradition, 
 I ! upon which the ballad is founded, is universally 
 I ' current in the Mearns ; and the editor is inform - 
 I ! ed, that, till very lately, the sword, with which 
 1 1 Sir Hugh le Blond was believed to have defended 
 | ! the life and honour of the queen, was carefully 
 ! preserved by his descendants, the viscounts of 
 ! | Arbuthnot. That Sir Hugh of Arbuthnot lived 
 1 1 in the thirteenth century, is proved by his hav- 
 i ! ing, in 1282, bestowed the patronage of the 
 
 I i church of Garvoch upon the monks of Aber- 
 ! brothwick, for the safety of his soul. — Register of 
 
 I I Aberbrothwick, quoted by Crawford in Peerage. 
 I But I find no instance in history, in which the 
 
 I honour of a queen of Scotland was committed to 
 | i the chance of a duel. It is true, that Mary, wife 
 
 I I of Alexander II., was, about 1242, somewhat 
 implicated in a dark story, concerning the mur- 
 
 !i der of Patrick, earl of Athole, burned in his 
 ^v lodging at Haddington, where he had gone to 
 
164 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 attend a great tournament. The relations o{{, 
 the deceased baron accused of the murder Sir 
 William Bisat, a powerful nohleman, who ap- 
 pears to have been in such high favour with the 
 young queen, that she offered her oath, as a 
 compurgator, to prove his innocence. Bisat 
 himself stood upon his defence, and proffered 
 the combat to his accusers ; but he was obliged 
 to give way to the tide, and *vas banished from 
 Scotland. This affair interested all the northern 
 barons ; and it is not impossible, that some 
 share, taken in it by this Sir Hugh de Arbuth- 
 not, may have given a slight foundation for the 
 tradition of the country.— Wintoun, book vii. 
 ch. 9. Or, if we suppose Sir Hugh le Blond to be 
 a predecessor of the Sir Hugh who flourished in 
 the thirteenth century, he may have been the 
 victor in a duel, shortly noticed as having oc- 
 curred in 1154, when one Arthur, accused of 
 treason, was unsuccessful in his appeal to the 
 judgment of God. Arthurus regem Malcolm 
 proditurus duello periit. Chron. Sanctoe Crucis, 
 ap. Anglia Sacra, vol. I. p. 161. 
 
 '' But, true or false, the incident, narrated in 
 the ballad, is in the genuine style of chivalry. 
 Romances abound with similar instances, nor 
 are they wanting in real history. The most 
 solemn part of a knight's oath was to defend 
 'all widows, orphelines, and maidens of gude 
 fame.'* — Lindsay's Heraldry, MS. The love of 
 arms was a real passion of itself, which blazed 
 yet more fiercely when united with the enthusi- 
 astic admiration of the fair sex. The knight of 
 Chaucer exclaims, with chivalrous energy, 
 
 It was an argument, seriously urged by Sir 
 John of Heinault, for making war upon Edward 
 II., in behalf of his banished wife, Isabella, that 
 knights were bound to aid, to their uttermost 
 power, all distressed damsels, living without 
 council or comfort. 
 
 " An apt illustration of the ballad would have 
 been the combat, undertaken by three Spanish 
 
 * Such an oath is still taken by the Knights of the 
 Bath; but, I believe, few of that honourable brother- 
 hood will now consider it quite so obligatory as the 
 conscientious Lord Herbert of Cherbury, who gravely 
 alleges it as a sufficient reason for having challenged 
 divers cavaliers, that they had either snatched from a 
 lady her bouquet, or ribband, or, by some discourtesy 
 of similar importance, pluced her, as his lordship 
 conceived, in the predicament of a distressed damo- 
 aell.— Scott, 
 
 champions against three Moors of Granada, in 
 defence of the honour of the queen of Granada, 
 wife to Mohammed Chiquito, the last monarch 
 of that kingdom. But I have not at hand Las 
 Guerras Civiles de Granada, in which that 
 achievement is recorded. Raymond Berenger, 
 count of Barcelona, is also said to have defended, 
 in single combat, the life and honour of the 
 empress Matilda, wife of the emperor Henry V., 
 and mother to Henry II. of England.— See An- 
 tonio Ulloa, del vero Honore Militare, Venice, 
 1569. 
 
 " A less apocryphal example is the duel, fought 
 in liJ87, betwixt Jaques le Grys and John de 
 Carogne, before the king of France. These 
 warriors were retainers of the earl of Alencon, 
 and originally sworn brothers. John de Carogne 
 went over the sea for the advancement of his 
 fame, leaving in his castle a beautiful wife, 
 where she lived soberly and sagely. But the 
 devil entered into the heart of Jaques le Grys, 
 and he rode, one morning, from the earl's house 
 to the castle of his friend, where he was hospita- 
 bly received by the unsuspicious lady. He re- 
 quested her to show him the donjon, or keep of 
 the castle, and in that remote and inaccessible 
 tower forcibly violated her chastity. He then 
 mounted his horse, and returned to the earl of 
 Alengon within so short a space, that his absence 
 had not been perceived. The lady abode within 
 the donjon, weeping bitterly, and exclaiming, 
 'Ah Jaquis! it was not well done thus to 
 shame me! but on you shall the shame rest, if 
 God send my husband safe home !' The lady 
 kept secret this sorrowful deed until her hus- 
 band's return from his voyage. The day passed, 
 and night came, the knight went to bed ; but the 
 lady would not; for ever she blessed herself, 
 and walked up and down the chamber, studying 
 and musing, until her attendants had retired ; 
 and then, throwing herself on her knees before 
 the knight, she showed him all the adventure. 
 Hardly would Carogne believe the treachery of his 
 companion : but when convinced, he replied, 
 ' Since it is so, lady, I pardon you ; but the 
 knight shall die for this villanous deed. Ac- 
 cordingly, Jaques le Grys was accused of the 
 crime, in the court of the earl of Alengon. But, 
 as he was greatly loved of his lord, and as the 
 evidence was very slender, the earl gave judg- 
 ment against the accusers. Hereupon John 
 Carogne appealed to the parliament of Paris; 
 which court, after full consideration, appointed 
 -JK the case to be tried by mortal combat betwixt 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 the parties, John Carogne appearing as the 
 champion of his lady. If he failed in his com- 
 bat, then was he to be hanged, and his lady 
 burned, as false and unjust calumniators. This 
 combat, under circumstances so very peculiar, 
 attracted universal attention; in so much, that 
 the king of France and his peers, who were then 
 in Flanders, collecting troops for an invasion of 
 England, returned to Paris, that so notable a 
 duel might be fought in the royal presence. 
 ' Thus the kynge, and his uncles, and the con- 
 stable, came to Parys. Then the lystes were 
 made in a place called Saynt Katheryne, behinde 
 the Temple. There was soo moche people, that 
 it was mervayle to beholde ; and on the one side 
 of the lystes there was made gret scaffoldes, that 
 the lordes might the better se the batayle of the 
 ii champions; and so they bothe came to the 
 felde, armed at all peaces, and there eche of 
 them was set in theyr chayre ; the erle of Saynt 
 Poule gouverned John Carongne, and the erle of 
 Alanson's company with Jacques le Grys; and 
 when the knyght entred in to the felde, he 
 came to his wyfe, who was there syttynge in a 
 chayre, covered in blacke, and he sayd to her 
 thus : — " Dame, by your informacyon, and in 
 your quarrell, 1 do put my lyfe in adventuie, as 
 to fyght with Jacques le Grys ; ye knowe, if the 
 cause be just and true." — "Syr," said the lady, 
 " it is as I have sayd ; wherefore ye may fyght 
 surely ; the cause is gond and true." With those 
 wordes, the knyghte kissed the lady, and toke 
 her by the hande, and then blessed hym, and soo 
 entred into the felde. The lady sate styll in the 
 blacke chayre, in her prayers to God, and to the 
 vyrgyne Mary, humbly prayenge them, by theyr 
 specyall grace, to send her husband the victory, 
 accordynge to the ryght. She was in gret hevy- 
 nes, for she was not sure of her lyfe; for, if her 
 husbande sholde have been discomfyted, she was 
 judged, without remedy, to be brente, and her 
 husbande hanged. I cannot say whether she j 
 repented her or not, as the matter was so for- ' 
 warde, that both she and her husbande were in j 
 grete peryll : how beit, fynally, she must as then 
 abyde the adventure. Then these two cham- ; 
 pyons were set one against another, and so 
 mounted on theyr horses, and behauved them 
 nobly; for they knewe what perteyned to deedes 
 of armes. There were many lordes. and knyghtes ; 
 of Fraunce, that were come thyder to se that | 
 batayle. The two cham pyons justed at theyr i 
 fyrst metyng, but none of them dyd hurte other; ! 
 and, after the justes, they lyghted on foote to a 
 
 165 
 
 Siperfourme theyr batayle, and soo fought val- 
 yauntly. — And fyrst, John of Carongne was hurt 
 in the thyghe, whereby all his frendes were in 
 grete fere; but, after that, he fought so val- 
 yauntly, that he bette down his adversary to the 
 erthe, and threst his swerd in his body, and soo 
 slew hym in the felde; and then he demaunded, 
 if he had done his devoyre or not ? and they an- 
 swered, that he had valyauntly atchieved his 
 batayle. Then Jacques le Grys was delyuered to 
 the hangman of Parys, and he drewe hym to the 
 gybbet of Mountfawcon, and there hanged him 
 up. Then John of Carongne came before the 
 kynge, and kneled downe, and the kynge made 
 him to stand up before hym; and, the same 
 daye, the kynge caused to be delyvred to him a 
 thousande franks, and reteyned him to be of his 
 chambre, with a pencyon of ii hundred pounde 
 by yere, durynge the term of his lyfe. Then he 
 thanked the kynge and the lordes, and went to 
 his wyfe, and kissed her ; and then they wente 
 togyder to the chyrche of our ladye in Parys, and 
 made theyr offerynge, and then retourned to 
 theyr lodgynges. Then this Sir John of Carongne 
 taryed not longe in Fraunce, but went, with Syr 
 John Boucequant, Syr John of Bordes, and Syr 
 Loys Grat. All these went to se Lamorabaquyn,* 
 of whome, in those dayes, there was moch spek- 
 ynge.' 
 
 " Such was the readiness, with which, in those 
 times, heroes put their lives in jeopardy, for 
 honour and lady's sake. But I doubt whether 
 the fair dames of the present day will think, that 
 the risk of being burned, upon every suspicion of 
 frailty, could be altogether compensated by the 
 probability, that a husband of good faith, like 
 John de Carogne, or a disinterested champion, 
 like Hugh le Blond, would take up the gauntlet 
 in their behalf. I fear they will rather accord to 
 the sentiment of the hero of an old romance, 
 who expostulates thus with a certain duke : 
 
 ' Certes, sir duke, thou doest untight, 
 To make a roast ot your daughter bright ; 
 I wot you ben unkind.' 
 
 Amis and Amelion. 
 
 " I was favoured with the following copy of 
 Sir Hugh le Blond by K. "Williamson Burnet, 
 Esq. of Monboddo, who wrote it down from the 
 recitation of an old woman, long in the service 
 
 ' This name Froissart gives to the famous Maho- 
 met, emperor of Turkev, called the Great. It is a cor- 
 ruption of his Persian title, Ameer Uddeen Kawn. 
 
166 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 of the Arbuthnot family. Of course the diction 
 is very much humbled, and it has, in all proba- 
 bility, undergone many corruptions; but its an- 
 tiquity is indubitable, and the story, though 
 indifferently told, is in itself interesting. It 
 is believed, that there have been many more 
 verses."] 
 
 The birds sang sweet as ony bell, 
 The world had not their make, 
 
 The queen she's gone to her chamber, 
 With Rodingham to talk. 
 
 •' I love you well, my queen, my dame, 
 
 'Bove land and rents so clear, 
 And for the love of you, my queen, 
 
 Would thole pain most severe." 
 
 " If well you love me, Rodingham, 
 
 I'm sure so do 1 thee : 
 I love you well as any man, 
 
 Save the king's fair bodye." 
 
 " I love you well, my queen, my dame ; 
 
 'Tis truth that I do tell: 
 And for to lye a night with you, 
 
 The salt seas 1 would sail." 
 
 " Away, away, O Rodingham ! 
 
 You are both stark and stoor ; 
 Would you defile the king's own bed, 
 
 And make his queen a whore i 
 
 " To-morrow you'd be taken sure, 
 
 And like a traitor slain ; 
 And I'd be burned at a stake, 
 
 Although I be the queen." 
 
 He then stepp'd out at her room-door, 
 
 All in an angry moud; 
 Until he met a leper-man,* 
 
 Just by the hard way-side. 
 
 He intoxicate the leper-man 
 
 With liquors very sweet; 
 And gave him more and more to drink, 
 
 Until he fell asleep. 
 
 * Filth, poorness of living, and want of linen, 
 made this horrible disease formerly very common 
 in Scotland. Robert Bruce died of the leprosy ; 
 and, through all Scotland, there were hospitals 
 erected for the reception of lepers, to prevent 
 their mingling with the community.— Scott. 
 
 He took him in his arms two, 
 
 And carried him along, 
 Till he came to the queen's own bed, 
 
 And there he laid him down. 
 
 He then stepp'd out of the queen's bower. 
 
 As swift as any roe, 
 'Till he came to the very place 
 
 Where the king himself did go. 
 
 The king said unto Rodingham, 
 " What news have you to me ?" 
 
 He said, " Your queen's a false woman, 
 As I did plainly see." 
 
 He hasten'd to the queen's chamber, 
 
 So costly and so fine, 
 Until he came to the queen's own bed, 
 
 Where the leper-man was lain. 
 
 He looked on the leper-man, 
 
 Who lay on his queen's bed; 
 He lifted up the snaw-white sheets, 
 
 And thus he to him said: 
 
 " Plooky, plooky, are your cheeks,, 
 
 And plooky is your chin, 
 And plooky are your arms two 
 
 My bonnie queen's layne in. 
 
 " Since she has lain into your arms, 
 
 She shall not lye in mine ; 
 Since she has kiss'd your ugsome mouth, 
 
 She never shall kiss mine." 
 
 In anger he went to the queen, 
 
 Who fell upon her knee ; 
 He said, " You false, unchaste woman. 
 
 What's this you've done to rce ?" 
 
 The queen then turn'd herself about, 
 
 The tear blinded her e'e — 
 " There's not a knight in a' your court 
 
 Dare give that name to me." 
 
 He said, " 'Tis true that I do say ; 
 
 For I a proof did make : 
 You shall be taken from my bower, 
 
 And burned at a stake. 
 
 " Perhaps I'll take my word again, 
 
 And may repent the same, 
 If that you'll get a Christian man 
 
 To fight that Rodingham." 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 167 
 
 " Alas ! alas !" then cried our queen, 
 
 " Alas, and woe to me ! 
 There's not a man in all Scotland 
 
 Will fight with him for me." 
 
 She breathed unto her messengers, 
 Sent them south, east, and west ; 
 
 They could find none to fight with him, 
 Nor enter the contest. 
 
 She breathed on her messengers, 
 
 She sent them to the north ; 
 And there they found Sir Hugh le Blond, 
 
 To fight him he came forth. 
 
 When unto him they did unfold 
 
 The circumstance all right, 
 He bade them go and tell the queen, 
 
 That for her he would fight. 
 
 The day came on that was to do 
 
 That dreadful tragedy ; 
 Sir Hugh le Blond was not come up 
 
 To fight for our lady. 
 
 " Put on the fire," the monster said ; 
 
 " It is twelve on the bell !" 
 " 'Tis scarcely ten, now," said the king;* 
 
 " I heard the clock mysel'." 
 
 Before the hour the queen is brought, 
 
 The burning to proceed ; 
 In a black velvet chair she's set, 
 
 A token for the dead. 
 
 She saw the flames ascending high, 
 
 The tears blinded her e'e : 
 " Where is the worthy knight," she said, 
 
 " Who is to fight for me ?" 
 
 Then up and spake the king himsel', 
 
 " My dearest have no doubt, 
 For jonder comes the man himsel', 
 
 As bold as e'er set out." 
 
 They then advanced to fight the duel 
 With swords of temper'd steel, 
 
 Till down the blood of Rodingham 
 Came running to his heel. 
 
 * In the romance of Doolin, called La Fleur 
 des Battailles, a false accuser discovers a similar 
 impatience to hurry over the execution, before 
 the arrival of the lady's champion. — Scott. 
 
 Sir Hugh took out a lusty sword, 
 
 *Twas of the metal clear ; 
 And he has pierced Rodingham 
 
 Till's heart-blood did appear. 
 
 ' Confess your treachery, now," he said, 
 
 " This day before you die !" 
 " I do confess my treachery, 
 I shall no longer lye : 
 
 " I like to wicked Haman am, 
 
 This day I shall be slain." 
 The queen was brought to her chamber, 
 
 A good woman again. 
 
 The queen then said unto the king, 
 
 " Arbattle's near the sea, 
 Give it unto the northern knight, 
 
 That this day fought for me." 
 
 Then said the king, " Come here, sir knight, 
 
 And drink a glass of wine ; 
 And, if Arbattle's not enough, 
 
 To it we'll Fordoun join."f 
 
 [From Buchan's Collection.] 
 
 " O wok is me, the time draws nigh 
 
 My love and I must part; 
 No one doth know the cares and fears 
 
 Of my poor troubled heart. 
 
 " Already I have suffered much, 
 Our parting cost me dear ; 
 
 Unless 1 were to go with you, 
 Or you to tarry here. 
 
 " My heart is fixed within his breast, 
 And that he knows right well; 
 
 I fear that I some tears will shed, 
 When 1 bid you farewell. 
 
 t Arbattle is the ancient name of the barony 
 of Arbutbnot. — Fordun has long been the patri- 
 mony of the same family. — Scott. 
 

 
 
 
 163 SCOTTISH 
 
 BA.LLADS. 
 
 
 "When I bid you farewell," she said, & " see ye not yon bonnie ship, 
 
 
 
 " This day, and woe is me ; 
 
 She's beauteous to behold ; 
 
 
 
 And cauld and shrill the wind blows stil', 
 
 Her sails are of the tafety fine, 
 
 
 
 Between my love and me. 
 
 Her topmasts shine like gold. 
 
 
 
 " The hat my love wears on his head, 
 
 " In yonder ship my love does skip, 
 
 
 
 It's not made of the woo; 
 
 And quite forsaken me ; 
 
 
 
 But it is o' the silk so fine, 
 
 And cauld and shrill the wind blawt still 
 
 
 
 And becomes his noble brow. 
 
 Between my love and me. 
 
 
 
 " His eyes do wink, and aye so jimp, 
 
 " My love he's neither laird nor lord, 
 
 
 
 His hair shines like the broom ; 
 
 Nor ane of noble kin ; 
 
 
 
 And I would not gi'e my laddie's love 
 
 But my bonnie love, the sailor bold, 
 
 
 
 For a' the wealth in Rome." 
 
 Is a poor miliars son. 
 
 
 
 He said, " Farewell, my dearest dear, 
 
 " He is a millar's son," she says, 
 
 
 
 Since from you 1 must go; 
 
 " And will be till he die ; 
 
 
 
 Let ne'er your heart be full of grief, 
 
 And cauld and shrill the wind blaws still 
 
 
 
 Nor anguish make you woe. 
 
 Between my love and me. 
 
 
 
 " If life remains, I will return, 
 
 " My love he's bound to leave the land, 
 
 
 
 And bear you companie;" 
 
 And cross the watery faem ; 
 
 
 
 Now cauld and shrill the wind blows still 
 
 And the bonnie ship my love sails in, 
 
 
 
 Between my love and me. 
 
 The Goldspink is her name. 
 
 
 
 " His bonnie middle is so well made, 
 
 " She sails mair bright than Phcebus fair 
 
 
 
 His shoulders brave and braid ; 
 
 Out o'er the raging sea ; 
 
 
 
 Out of my mind he'll never be 
 
 And cauld and shrill the wind blaws still 
 
 
 
 Till in my grave I'm laid. 
 
 Between my love and me. 
 
 
 
 ** Till I'm in grave laid low," she says, 
 
 " He promised to send letters to me, 
 
 
 
 " Alas ! and woe is me ; 
 
 Ere six months they were gone ; 
 
 
 
 Now cauld and raw, the wind does blaw, 
 
 But now nine munths they are expired, 
 
 
 
 Between my love and me. 
 
 And I've received none. 
 
 
 
 " Some do mourn for oxen," she said, 
 
 " So I may sigh, and say, alas ! 
 
 
 
 " And others mourn for kye; 
 
 This day, and woe is me ; 
 
 
 
 And some do mourn for dowie death, 
 
 And cauld and shrill the wind blaws still 
 
 
 
 But none for love but I. 
 
 Between my love and me. 
 
 
 
 " What need I make all this din, 
 
 " I wish a 6tock-stone aye on earth, 
 
 
 
 For this will never dee ; 
 
 And high wings on the sea; 
 
 
 
 And cauld and shrill the wind blaws still 
 
 To cause my true love stay at home, 
 
 
 
 Between my love and me." 
 
 And no more go from me. 
 
 
 
 She's ta'en her mantle her about, 
 
 " What needs me for to wish in vain ? 
 
 
 
 And sat down by the shore, 
 
 Such things will never be; 
 
 
 
 In hopes to meet with some relief. 
 
 The wind blaws sair in every where 
 
 
 
 But still her grief grew more. 
 
 Between my love and me." 
 
 
 
 " I'll sit here while my life's in, 
 
 
 
 
 Until the day 1 die; 
 
 
 
 
 cauld and shrill the wind blaws still 
 
 
 
 
 Between my love and me. 1 
 
 ' 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 169 
 
 PART SECOND. 
 
 A BONNIE boy the ballad read, 
 
 Forbade them sair to lie ; 
 She was a lady in Southland town, 
 
 Her name was Barbarie. 
 
 She thought her love abroad was gone, 
 
 Beyond the raging sea; 
 But there was nae mair between them twa, 
 
 Than a green apple tree. 
 
 " Cheer up your heart, my dearest dear, 
 
 No more from you I'll part; 
 I'm come to ease the cares and fears 
 
 Of your poor troubled heart. 
 
 " All for my sake ye've suffer'd much, 
 
 I'm come to cherish thee ; 
 And now we've met, nae mair to part, 
 
 Until the day we die. 
 
 " I wish'd your face was set in glass, 
 
 That I might it behold; 
 And the very letters of your name, 
 
 Were wrote in beaten gold. 
 
 " That I the same might bear about, 
 Through many strange countrie; 
 
 But now we're met, nae mair to part, 
 Until the day we die. 
 
 " Here is a ring the pledge of love, 
 
 I still will you adore ; 
 Likewise a heart that none can move, 
 
 A prince can give no more. 
 
 " A prince can give no more, my love, 
 
 Than what I give to thee ; 
 Now we are met, nae mair to part, 
 
 Until the day we die. 
 
 " I promised to send letters to thee, 
 Ere six months they were gone ; 
 
 But now nine months they are expired, 
 And I'm returned home. 
 
 "Now from the seas I am return 'd, 
 
 My dear, to comfort thee ; 
 And now we're met, nae mair to part, 
 
 Until the day we die. 
 
 " Te say I'm neither laird nor lord, 
 
 Nor one of noble kin; 
 But ye say I'm a sailor bold, 
 
 But and a millar's son. 
 
 " "When ye come to my father's mill, 
 Ye shall grind muture free ; 
 
 Now we're met, nae mair to part, 
 Until the day we die. 
 
 " Te say I'm bound to leave the land, 
 And cross the watery faem ; 
 
 The ship that your true love commands, 
 The (Joldspink is her name. 
 
 " Though I were heir o'er all Scotland, 
 
 Ye should be lady free ; 
 And now we're met, nae mair to part, 
 
 Until the day we die." 
 
 [From Buchan's Ancient Ballads and Songs 
 of the North of Scotland.] 
 
 " O come along wi' me, brother, 
 
 Now come along wi' me ; 
 And we'll gae seek our sister Maisry 
 
 Into the water o" Dee." 
 
 The eldest brother he stepped in, 
 
 He stepped to the knee , 
 Then out he jump'd upo' the bank. 
 
 Says, " This water's nae for me." 
 
 The second brother he stepped in, 
 
 He stepped to the quit ; 
 Then out he jump'd upo' the bank, 
 
 Says, " This water's wondrous deep." 
 
 "When the third brother stepped in, 
 
 He stepped to the chin ; 
 Out he got, and lorwa d wade, 
 
 For fear o' drowning him. 
 
 The youngest brother he stepp'd in, 
 
 Took 's sister by the hand ; 
 SMd, " Here she is my sister Maisry, 
 
 Wi' the binny draps on her chin. 
 
] 70 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 " if I were in some bonnie ship, 4 
 
 And in some strange countrie, 
 For to find out some conjurer, 
 
 To gar Maisry speak to me." 
 
 ^ The bonnie doo likes na its mate, 
 Nor bate, at breast, its mither, 
 Better, my dearest Chil Ether, 
 Than Maisry loves her brither. 
 
 Then out it speaks an auld woman, 
 
 As she was passing by; 
 " Ask of your sister what you want. 
 
 And she will speak to thee." 
 
 But he needs gae to gain renown, 
 Into some far countrie; — 
 
 And Chil Ether has gaen abroad, 
 To fight in Paynimie. 
 
 " sister, tell me who is the man 
 
 That did your body win .-> 
 And who is the wretch, tell me, likewise, 
 
 That threw you in the lin ?" 
 
 And he has been in Paynimie 
 
 A twalmonth and a day ; 
 But never nae tidings did there come, 
 
 Of his welfare to say. 
 
 " Bondsey was the only man 
 
 That did my body win ; 
 And likewise Bondsey was the man 
 
 That threw me in the lin." 
 
 Then she's ta'en ship, awa' to sail. 
 Out ower the roaring faem ; 
 
 A' for to find him, Chil Ether, 
 And for to bring him hame. 
 
 " will we Bondsey head, sister > 
 
 Or will we Bindsey hang ? 
 Or will we set him at our bow end, 
 
 Lat arrows at him gang?" ! 
 
 She hadna sail'd the sea a month, 
 A month but barely three; 
 
 Until she landit on Ciper's shore, 
 By the moon-licht sae lie. 
 
 " Ye winna Bondsey head, brothers, j 
 
 Nor will ye Bondsey hang; 
 But ye'll take out his twa grey e'en, 
 
 Make Bondsey blind to gang. 
 
 Lady Maisry did on her green mantle, 
 Took her purse in her band; 
 
 And call'd to her, her mariners, 
 Syne walk'd up through the land. 
 
 " Ye'll put to the gate a chain o' gold, 
 
 A rose garland gar make; 
 And ye'll put that in Bondsey's head 
 
 A' for your sister's sake." 
 
 She walked up, sae did she down, 
 Till she came till castell high ; 
 
 There she sat down, on the door stane 
 And weepit bitterLe. 
 
 
 
 Then out it spake a sweet, sweet voice, 
 Out ower the castell wa'; — 
 
 " Now isna that lady Maisry 
 That makes sic a dolefu' fa' ? 
 
 [From Buchan's Collection.] 
 
 " But gin that be lady Maisry, 
 Lat her make mirth and glee , 
 
 For I'm her brother, Chil Ether, 
 That loves her tenderlie. 
 
 Chil Ether and lady Maisry 
 "Were baith born at ae birth ; 
 
 They lovd each other tenderlie, 
 'boon every thing on earth. 
 
 " But gin that be lady Maisry, 
 Lat her take purse in hand ; 
 
 And gang to yonder castell wa', 
 They call it Gorinand . 
 
 The ley likes na the summer shower, 
 
 Nor girse the rnornin' dew, 
 Better, dear lady Maisry, . 
 
 Than Chil Ether loves you. a 
 
 " Speir for the lord o' that castell, 
 
 Orie'm dollars thirty-three ; 
 Tell him to ransom Chil Ether, 
 i That loves you tenderlie." 
 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 171 
 
 She's <Jone her up to that castell, 
 Paid down her gude monie ; 
 
 And sae she's ransom'd Chil Ether, 
 A nd brought him hame her wi*. 
 
 Eoicfo ©ftornag jltaart. 
 
 [From " A "North Countrie Garland," (Edin- 
 burgh, 1823.) where the Editor says he is unac- 
 quainted with the circumstances that gave rise 
 to the ballad.] 
 
 Thomas Stuart was a lord, 
 
 A lord of mickle land; 
 He used to wear a coat of gold, 
 
 But now his grave is green. 
 
 Now he has wooed the young Countess, 
 
 The Countess of Balquhin, 
 And given her for a morning gift, 
 
 Strathbogie and Aboyne. 
 
 But woman's wit is aye wilful, 
 
 Alas ! that ever it was sae, 
 She long'd to see the morning gift, 
 
 That her good lord to her ga'e. 
 
 "When steeds were saddled and weel bridled, 
 
 An' ready for to ride, 
 There came a pain on that gude lord, 
 
 His back likewise his side. 
 
 He said, "Ride on, my lady fair, 
 
 May goodness be your guide, 
 For I am so sick and weary that 
 
 No farther can I ride." 
 
 Now ben did come his father dear, 
 
 Wearing a golden band, 
 Says, " Is there na leech in Edinburgh 
 
 Can cure my son from wrang. J " 
 
 O leech is come and leech is gane, 
 
 Yet, father, I'm aye waur; 
 There's not a leech in Edinbro' 
 
 Can d=ath from me debar. 
 
 But be a friend to my wife, father, 
 
 Restore to her her own, 
 Restore to her her morning gift, 
 
 Strathbogie and Aboyne. 
 
 It had been gude for my wife, father, 
 
 To me she'd borne a son, 
 He would have got my lands and rents, 
 
 Where they lie out and in. 
 
 "It had been gude for my wife, father, 
 
 To me she'd borne an heir ; 
 He would have got my lands and rents 
 
 Where they lie fine and fair." 
 
 The steeds they strave into their stables, 
 The boys could not get them bound, 
 
 The hounds lay howling on the beach, 
 'Cause their master was behind. 
 
 " I dream'd a dream since late yestreen, 
 
 I wish it may be good, 
 That our chamber was full of swine, 
 
 An' our bed full of blood. 
 
 " I saw a woman come from the west, 
 Full sore wringing her hands, 
 
 .And aye she cried, Ohon, alas! 
 My good lord's broken bands. 
 
 '* As she came by my gude lord's bower 
 Saw mony black steeds and brown, — 
 
 I'm feared it be mony unco lords 
 Having my love from town. 
 
 " As she came by my gude lord's bower, 
 Saw mony black steeds and grey, — 
 
 I'm fear'd it's mony unco lords 
 Havin' my love to the clay." 
 
 Jbk JB&auike. 
 
 [Modern Ballad. — Joanna Baillie.] 
 
 Sir Maurice was a wealthy lord, 
 He lived in the north countrie, 
 
 Well would he cope with foe-man's sword 
 Or the glance of a lady's e'e. 
 
 Now all his armed vassals wait, 
 
 A staunch and burly band, 
 Before his stately castle gate, 
 
 Bound for the Holy Land. 
 

 
 ] 72 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 Above the spearmen's lengthen'd file, i 
 
 Are figur'd ensigns flying; 
 StrokM by their keeper's hand the while, 
 
 Are harness'd chargers neighing. 
 
 ^ These latter words right eagerly. 
 From a slender stripling broke, 
 Who stood the ancient warrior by, 
 And trembled as he spoke. 
 
 
 And looks of woe, and looks of cheer, 
 And looks the two between, 
 
 On many a warlike face appear, 
 Where tears have lately been. 
 
 Sir Maurice started at the sound, 
 
 And all from top to toe 
 The stripling scann'd, who to the ground 
 
 His blushing face bent low. 
 
 
 For all they love is left behind ; 
 
 Hope beckons them before : 
 Their parting sails spread to the wind, 
 
 Blown from their native shore. 
 
 " Is this thy kinsman, seneschal ? 
 
 Thine own or thy sister's son ? 
 A gentler page, in tent or hall, 
 
 Mine eyes ne'er look'd upon. — 
 
 
 Then through the crowded portal pass'd 
 Six goodly knights and tall; 
 
 Sir Maurice himself, who came the last, 
 Was goodliest of them all. 
 
 " To thine own home return, fair youth ! 
 
 To thine own home return, 
 Give ear to likely sober truth, 
 
 Nor prudent counsel spurn. 
 
 
 And proudly roved his hasty eye 
 O'er all the warlike train ; — 
 
 " Save ye, brave comrades! prosp'rously, 
 Heaven send us o er the main ! 
 
 " War suits thee not, if boy thou art ; 
 
 And if a sweeter name 
 Befit thee, do not lightly part 
 
 With maiden's honour'd fame." 
 
 
 " But see 1 right ? an armed band 
 From Moorham's lordless hall ; 
 
 And he who bears the high command, 
 Its ancient seneschal ! 
 
 He turn'd him from his liegemen all, 
 Who round their chieftain press'd; 
 
 His very shadow on the wall 
 His troubled mind express'd. 
 
 
 " Return ; your stately keep defend ; 
 
 Defend your lady's bower, 
 Lest rude and lawless hands should rend, 
 
 That lone and lovely flower." — 
 
 As sometimes slow and sometimes fast, 
 
 He paced to and fro, 
 His plumy crest now upward cast 
 
 In air, now drooping low. 
 
 
 " God will defend our lady dear, 
 And we will cross the sea, 
 
 From slav'ry's chain, his lot severe, 
 Our noble lord to free." — 
 
 Sometimes like one in frantic mood, 
 Short words of sound he utter'd, 
 
 And sometimes, stopping short, he stood, 
 As to himself he mutter'd. 
 
 
 "Nay, nay! some wand'ring minstrel's 
 Hath fram'd a story vain ; [tongue, 
 
 Thy lord, his liegemen brave among, 
 Near Acre's wall was slain." — 
 
 " A daughter's love, a maiden's pride '. 
 
 And may they not agree? 
 Could man desire a lovelier bride, 
 
 A truer friend than she ? 
 
 
 " Nay, good my lord ! for had his life 
 Been lost on battle-ground, 
 
 When ceas'd that fell and fatal strife, 
 His body had been found." — 
 
 " Down, cursed thought ! a boy's garb 
 
 Betrays not wantun will, 
 Yet, sharper than an arrow's barb, 
 
 That fear might haunt me still." 
 
 
 " No faith to such delusions give ; 
 
 His mortal term is past." — 
 " Not so ! not so I he is alive, 
 
 And wiU be found at last !" < 
 
 He mutter'd long, then to the gate, 
 
 Beturn'd and look'd around, 
 But the seneschal and his stripling mate, 
 e Were no where to be found. 
 
 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 ITS 
 
 With outward cheer and inward smart, 
 
 In warlike fair array, 
 Did Maurice with his bands depart. 
 
 And shoreward bent his way. 
 
 Their stately ship rode near the port, 
 
 The warriors to receive, 
 And there, with blessings kind but short, 
 
 Did friends of friends take leave. 
 
 And soon they saw the crowded strand 
 
 Wear dimly from their view, 
 And soon they saw the distant land, 
 
 A line of hazy blue. 
 
 The white-sail'd ship with fav'ring breeze, 
 
 In all her gallant pride, 
 Mov'd like the mistress of the seas, 
 
 That rippled far and wide. 
 
 Sometimes with steady course she went, 
 O'er wave and surge careering, 
 
 Sometimes with sidelong mast she bent, 
 Her wings the sea-foam sheering. 
 
 Sometimes, with poles and rigging bare, 
 
 She scudded before the blast, 
 But safely by the Syrian shore, 
 
 Her anchor dropt at last 
 
 What martial honours Maurice won, 
 Join'd with the brave and great, 
 
 From the fierce, faithless Saracen, 
 I may not here relate. 
 
 With boldest band on ridge or moat, 
 
 "With champion on the plain, 
 I* th' breach with elusfring foes he fought, 
 
 Chok'd up with grizly slain. 
 
 Most valiant by the valiant styl'd, 
 Their praise his deeds proclaim'd, 
 
 And oft his liegemen proudly smil'd 
 To hear their leader nam'd. 
 
 But fate will quell the hero's strength, 
 
 And dim the loftiest brow, 
 And thu3, our noble chief, at length 
 
 Was in the dust laid low. 
 
 He lay the heaps of dead beneath, 
 
 As sunk life's flick'ring flame, 
 And thought it was the trance of death, 
 
 That o'er his senses came. 
 
 And when again day's blessed light 
 
 Did on his vision fall, 
 There stood by his side — a wond'rous sight ! 
 
 The ancient seneschal. 
 
 He strove, but could no 1 ; utter word, 
 
 His misty senses fled : 
 Again he woke, and Moorham's lord 
 
 Was bending o'er his bed. 
 
 A third time sank he, as if dead, 
 And then, his eye-lids raising, 
 
 He saw a chief with turban 'd head, 
 Intently on him gazing. 
 
 " The prophet'3 zealous servant I; 
 
 His battles I've fought and won 
 Christians I scorn, their creeds deny, 
 
 But honour Mary's son. 
 
 "And I have wedded an English dame, 
 
 And set her parent free ; 
 And none, who wears an English name, 
 
 Shall e'er be thrall'd by me. 
 
 " For her dear sake I can endure 
 All wrong, all hatred smother ; 
 
 Whate'er I feel, thou art secure, 
 
 As though thou wert my brother."— 
 
 " And thou hast wedded an English dame! 
 
 Sir Maurice said no more, 
 For o'er his heart soft weakness came, 
 
 He sigh'd and wept full sore. 
 
 And many a dreary day and night 
 With the Moslem chief stay 'd he, 
 
 But ne'er could catch, to bless his sight, 
 One glimpse of the fair lady. 
 
 Oft gaz'd he on her lattice high 
 
 As he paced the court below, 
 And turn'd his listn'ing ear to try 
 
 If word or accent low 
 
 Might haply reach him there ; and oft 
 
 Traversed the garden green, 
 Wotting her footsteps small and soft 
 
 Might on the turf be seen. 
 
 And oft to Moorham's lord he gave 
 
 His list'ning ear who told, 
 How he became a wretched slave 
 
 Within that Syrian hold ; 
 
If4 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 What time from liegemen parted far, 
 
 Upon the battle field, 
 By stern and adverse fate of war 
 
 He was obliged to yield : 
 
 And how his daughter did by stealth 
 
 So boldly cross the sea 
 With secret store of gather'd wealth, 
 
 To set her father free ■ 
 
 And how into the foemen's hands 
 
 She and her people fell ; 
 And how (herself in captive bands) 
 
 She sought him in his cell ; 
 
 And but a captive boy appear'd, 
 
 Till grief her sex betray'd, 
 And the fierce Saracen, so fear'd! 
 
 Spoke gently to the maid. 
 
 How for her plighted hand sued he, 
 
 And solemn promise gave, 
 Her noble father should be free 
 
 With ev'ry Christian slave; 
 
 (For many there, in bondage kept, 
 
 Felt the stern rule of vice ; ) 
 How, long she ponder'd, sorely wept, 
 
 Then paid the fearful price.— 
 
 A tale which made his bosom thrill, 
 
 His faded eyes to weep ; 
 He, waking, thought upon it still, 
 
 And saw it in his sleep. 
 
 But harness rings, and the trumpet's bray 
 
 Again to battle calls ; 
 And Christian pow'rs, in grand array 
 
 Are near those Moslem walls. 
 
 Sir Maurice heard ; untoward fate " 
 
 Sad to be thought upon : 
 But the castle s lord unlock'd its gate, 
 
 And bade his guest be gone. 
 
 " Fight thou for faith by thee ador'd ; 
 
 By thee so well maintain 'd! 
 But never may this trusty sword 
 
 With blood of thine be stain'd !"— 
 
 Sir Maurice took him by the hand, 
 " God bless thee too," — he cried; 
 
 Then to the nearest Christian band 
 With mingled feelings hied. 
 
 The battle join'd, with dauntless pride 
 
 'Gainst foemen, foemen stood; 
 And soon the fatal field was dyed 
 
 With many a brave man's blood. 
 
 At length gave way the Moslem force ; 
 
 Their valiant chief was slain ; 
 Maurice protected his lifeless corse, 
 
 And bore it from the plain. 
 
 There's mourning in the Moslem halls, 
 
 A dull and dismal so*und : 
 The lady left its 'leagur'd walls, 
 
 And safe protection found. 
 
 When months were past, the widow'd dame 
 
 Look'd calm and cheerfully; 
 Then Maurice to her presence came, 
 
 And bent him on his knee. 
 
 What words of penitence or suit 
 
 He utter'd, pass we by ; 
 The lady wept, awhile was mute, 
 
 Then gave this firm reply : 
 
 " That thou didst doubt my maiden pride 
 y A thought that rose and vanish'd 
 
 So fleetingly) 1 will not chide ; 
 'Tis from remembrance banish'd. 
 
 " But thy fair fame, earn'd by that sword, 
 
 Still spotless shall it be : 
 I was the bride of a Moslem lord, 
 
 And will never be bride to thee. 
 
 So firm, though gentle, was her look, 
 
 Hops i' the instant fled: 
 A solemn, dear farewell he took, 
 
 And from her presence sped. 
 
 And she a plighted nun became, 
 
 God serving day and night; 
 And he of blest Jerusalem 
 
 A brave and zealous knight. 
 
 But that their lot was one of woe, 
 
 Wot ye because of this 
 Their sep'rate single state ? if so, 
 
 In sooth ye judge amiss. 
 
 She tends the helpless stranger's bed, 
 For alms her wealth is stor'd ; 
 
 On her meek worth God's grace is shed, 
 Man's grateful blessings pour'd. 
 

 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. If5 
 
 
 
 He still in warlike mail doth stalk, i 
 
 5 As "Willie stood in his chamber door, 
 
 
 
 In arras his prowess prove ; 
 
 And as he thought it good ; 
 
 
 
 And oft of siege or battle talk, 
 
 There he beheld dame Oliphant, 
 
 
 
 And sometimes of his love. 
 
 As she came through the wood. 
 
 
 
 She was the fairest of the fair, 
 
 He'3 ta'en his bow his arm ower, 
 
 
 
 The gentlest of the kind ; 
 
 His sword into his hand ; 
 
 
 
 Search ye the world wide every where, 
 
 And he is on to gude greenwood, 
 
 
 
 Her like ye shall not find. 
 
 As fast as he could gang. 
 
 
 
 She was the fairest, is the best, 
 
 And there he found dame Oliphant 
 
 
 
 Too good for a monarch's bride; 
 
 Was lying sound asleep ; 
 
 
 
 I would not give her in her nun's coif dress'd 
 
 And aye the sounder she did sleep, 
 
 
 
 For all her sex beside. 
 
 The nearer he did creep. 
 
 But when she waken 'd frae her sleep, 
 
 An angry maid was she ; 
 Crying, " Had awa' frae me, young man, 
 
 
 
 f&fyt 1Ead d Sougfajf ai^i 
 
 Had far awa' frae me, 
 For I fear ye are the Scottish knight 
 
 
 
 Wmw #Sip!])smt 
 
 That beguiles young ladies free." 
 " I am not the Scottish knight, 
 
 
 
 [This Ballad is from Mr Buchan's Collection. 
 
 Nor ever thinks to be ; 
 
 
 
 It bears the mark of considerable antiquity, 
 
 I am but Willie o' Douglas-dale, 
 
 
 
 though here and there betraying the interpola- 
 
 That serves for meat and fee." 
 
 
 
 tions or imperfections of modern reciters.] 
 
 " If ye be Willie o' Douglas dale, 
 
 
 
 Willie was an earl's ae son, 
 
 Ye're dearly welcome to me ; 
 
 
 
 And an earl's son was he ; 
 
 For aft in my sleep ha'e I thought on 
 
 
 
 But he thought his father lack to sair, 
 
 You and your merry winking e'e." 
 
 
 
 And his mother of low degree. 
 
 But the cocks they crew, and the horns blew 
 
 
 
 But he is on to fair England, 
 
 And the lions took the hill; 
 
 
 
 To sair for meat and fee ; 
 
 And Willie he gaed hame again, 
 
 
 
 And all was for dame Oliphant, 
 
 To his hard task and tile : 
 
 
 
 A woman of great beauty. 
 
 And likewise did dame Oliphant, 
 To her book and her seam. 
 
 
 
 He hadna been in fair England 
 
 
 
 
 A month but barely ane, 
 Ere he dream 'd that fair dame Oliphant 
 Gied him a gay gowd ring. 
 
 Till it fell ance upon a day, 
 
 Dame Oliphant thought lang; 
 And she went on to "Willie's bower yetts 
 
 
 
 He hadna been in fair England 
 
 As fast as she could gang. 
 
 
 
 A month but barely four. 
 
 
 
 
 Ere he dream 'd that fair dame Oliphant 
 
 " 0, are ye asleep now, squire Willie, 
 
 
 
 Gied him a red rose flower, 
 
 0, are ye asleep ?" said she ; 
 
 
 
 Well set about wi' white lilies, 
 
 "0 waken, waken, squire Willie, 
 
 
 
 Like to the paramour. 
 
 waken and speak to me. 
 
 
 
 It fell ance upon a day, 
 
 " The gowns that were ower wide, Willie, 
 
 
 
 Dame Oliphant thought lang ; j 
 
 They winna meet on me ; 
 
 
 
 And she gaed on to gude greenwood, J 
 
 And the coats that were ower side, Willie, 
 
 
 
 As fast as she could gang. ^ 
 
 '• They winna come to my knee ; 
 
 
 
 

 1Y6 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 And if the knights of my father's court get & He's got a bush o' roddins till her, 
 
 
 word, 
 
 That grow on yonder thorn ; 
 
 
 I'm sure they'll gar you dee." 
 
 Likewise a drink o' Marywell-water, 
 Out o' his grass-green horn. 
 
 
 " Dame Oliphant, dame Oliphant, 
 
 
 
 A king's daughter are ye; 
 
 He carried the match in his pocket, 
 
 
 But would ye leave your father and mother, 
 
 That kindled to her the fire; 
 
 
 And gang awa' wi' me ?' 
 
 Well set about wi' oaken spails, 
 That learn 'd ower Lincolnshire. 
 
 
 " 0, I would leave my father and mother, 
 
 
 
 And the nearest that e'er betide ; 
 And I would nae be fear'd to gang, 
 Gin ye war by my side." 
 
 And he has bought to his lady, 
 
 The white bread and the wine 
 And the milk he milked frae the goats, 
 
 
 But she's ta'en a web o' the scarlet, 
 
 He fed his young son en. 
 
 
 And tare it fine and sma'; 
 
 
 
 And even into Willie's arms 
 
 Till it fell ance upon a day, 
 
 
 She lept the castle wa' ; 
 
 Dame Oliphant thought lang ; 
 
 
 And Willie was wight and well able, 
 
 " gin ye ha'e a being, Willie, 
 
 
 And he keepit her frae a fa'. 
 
 I pray you ha'e me name." 
 
 
 But the cocks they crew, and the horns 
 
 He's ta'en his young son in his arms, 
 
 
 blew, 
 
 His lady by the hand ; 
 
 
 And the lions took the hill ; 
 
 And they are down through guid green- 
 
 
 And Willie's lady followed him, 
 
 wood, 
 
 
 And the tears did trinkle still. 
 
 As fast a3 they could gang; 
 
 
 " want ye ribbons to your hair, 
 
 Till they came to a shepherd may, 
 
 
 Or roses to your shoon ? 
 
 Was feeding her flocks alone ; 
 
 
 Or want ye chains about your neck, 
 
 Said, " Will ye gang alang wi' me, 
 
 
 Ye'se get mair ere that be done." 
 
 And carry my bonnie young son ? 
 
 
 " I want not ribbons to my feet, 
 
 "The gowns that were shapen for my 
 
 
 Nor roses to my shoon ; 
 
 back, 
 
 
 And there are mair chains about my neck 
 
 They shall be sewed for thine ; 
 
 
 Than ever I'll see done: 
 
 And likewise I'll gar squire Willie 
 
 
 But 1 ha'e as much dear bought love 
 
 Gi'e you a braw Scots man." 
 
 
 As my heart can contain." 
 
 "When they came on to Willie's bower yetts. 
 
 
 " "Will ye gae to the cards or dice ? 
 
 And far beyond the sea ; 
 
 
 Or to the table play ? 
 
 She was hail'd the lady o' Douglas-dale, 
 
 
 Or to a bed sae well down spread, 
 
 And Willie an earl to be. 
 
 
 And sleep till it be day ?" 
 
 Likewise the maid they brought awa', 
 She got a braw Scots man. 
 
 
 " I've mair need o* the roddins, Willie, 
 
 I 
 
 
 That grow on yonder thorn ; 
 
 And lang and happy did they live, 
 
 
 Likewise a drink o' Marywell-water, 
 
 But now their days are done ; 
 
 
 Out o' your grass-green horn. 
 
 And in the kirk o' sweet Saint Bride 
 Their graves are growing green. 
 
 
 " I've mair need o' a fire, Willie, 
 
 
 
 To baud me frae the cauld ; 
 
 __— 
 
 
 Likewise a glass o' your red wine, 
 
 
 
 Ere i bring my son to the fauld." j 
 
 $ 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS 
 
 111 
 
 3fP«gg2 ^ougk0. 
 
 [Prom Buchan'a Ancient Ballads and Songs.] 
 
 My father he left me tvva ploughs and a mill, 
 
 It was to begin my dowrie ; 
 And what care I for ony o' them a', 
 
 If I be not brave Meldrum's ladie. 
 
 Meldrum, it stands on the head o' yon hill, 
 
 And dear but it stands bonnie; 
 But what care I fur this, if I had himsel', 
 
 For to me he's the dearest o' ony. 
 
 But how can I be the lady o' Argye, 
 The lady o' Pitlays, or Pitloggan ? 
 
 How can I expect to enjoy these estates, 
 And I but a servant woman ? 
 
 In climbing the tree it is too high for me, 
 And seeking the fruit that's nae growing ; 
 
 I'm seeking het water beneath cauld ice, 
 And against the stream I am rowing. 
 
 But Meldrum he stands on his ain stair head, 
 And hearing his bonnie lassie mourning; 
 
 Says, " Cheer up your heart, my ain proper pink, 
 Though ye be but a servant woman. 
 
 " Ye're nae climbing a tree that's too high for 
 thee, 
 
 Nor seeking the fruit that's nae growing; 
 Nor seeking het water beneath cauld ice, 
 
 It's wi' the stream that ye are rowing." | 
 
 " They ca' me Peggy Douglass the butt," she 
 says, 
 " They ca' me Peggy Douglass the ben, sir; 
 And although 1 were your wedded wife, 
 
 They would ca' me Peggy Douglass again, 
 sir." 
 
 " They ca' you Peggy Douglass the butt," he 
 says, 
 " They ca' you Peggy Douglass the ben, may; 
 But the best that's in a' my father's ha', 
 
 Darena ca' you Peggy Douglass again, | 
 may." 9 
 
 When he had her up to yon stair head, 
 
 She was but a servant woman ; 
 But lang, lang ere she came down again, 
 
 She was getting baith mistress and madam. 
 
 " Yestreen I sat by Meldrum's kitchen fire, 
 Amang the rest o' his servant lasses ; 
 
 But the night I will lye in his arms twa, 
 And I'll wear the ribbons and laces." 
 
 ®&* Wife if mtfyn't Wdl 
 
 [A fragment first puhlished in the Minstrelsy 
 of the Scottish Border.] 
 
 There lived a wife at Usher's well, 
 
 And a wealthy wife was she ; 
 She had three stout and stalwart sons. 
 
 And sent them o'er the sea. 
 
 They hadna been a week from her, 
 
 A week but barely ane, 
 When word came to the carline wife, 
 
 That her three sons were gane. 
 
 They hadna been a week from her, 
 
 A week but barely three, 
 When word came to the carline wife, 
 
 That her sons she'd never see. 
 
 " I wish the wind may never cease,* 
 
 Nor fishes in the flood, 
 Till my three sons come hame to me, 
 
 In earthly flesh and bluod !" 
 
 It fell about the Martinmas, 
 
 When nights are lang and mirk, 
 
 The carline wife's three sons came hame, 
 And their hats were o' the birk.f 
 
 * The sense of this verse is obscure, owing, 
 probably, to corruption by reciters. It would 
 appear that the mother had sinned in the same 
 degree with the celebrated Lenore. — Scott. 
 
 f The notion, that the souls of the blessed 
 wear garlands, seems to be of Jewish origin. 
 At least in the Maase-book, there is a Rabbinical 
 tradition to the following effect: — " It fell out, 
 that a Jew, whose name was Ponim, an ancient 
 man, whose business was altogether about 
 
178 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 It neither grew in syke nor diteh, 
 
 Nor yet in ony sheugh ; 
 But at the gates o' Paradise, 
 
 That birk grew fair eneugh. 
 
 " Blow up the fire, my maidens ! 
 
 Bring water from the well ! 
 For a' my house shall feast this night, 
 
 Since my three sons are well." 
 
 dead, coming to the door of the school, saw one 
 standing there, who had a garland upon his 
 head. Then was Eabbi Ponim afraid, imagin- 
 ing it was a spirit. "Whereupon he, whom the 
 Eabbi saw, called out to him, saying, ' Be not 
 afraid, but pass forward. Dost thou not know 
 me ?' Then said Rabbi Ponim, ' Art not thou 
 he whom I buried yesterday ?' And he was an- 
 swered, ' Yea, I am he.' Upon which Rabbi 
 Ponim said, ' Why comest thou hither ? How 
 fareth it with thee in the other world ?' And 
 the apparition made answer, * It goeth well 
 •with me, and I am in high esteem in paradise.' 
 Then said the Rabbi, ' Thou wert but looked 
 upr>n in the world as an insignificant Jew. 
 Wt. at good work didst thou do, that thou art 
 thus esteemed f The apparition answered, ' I 
 will tell thee : the reason of the esteem I am in, 
 is, that I rose every morning early, and with 
 fervency uttered my prayer, and offered the 
 grace from the bottom of my heart ; fur which 
 reason I now pronounce grace in paradise, and 
 am well respected. If thou doubtest whether I 
 am the person, I will show thee a token that 
 •will convince thee of it. Yesterday, when thou 
 didst clothe me in my funeral attire, thou didst 
 tear my sleeve.' Then asked Rabbi Ponim, * What 
 is the meaning of that garland V The appari- 
 tion answered, ' I wear it, to the end the wind 
 of the world may not have power over me ; for 
 it consists of excellent herbs of paradise.' Then 
 did Rabbi Ponim mend the sleeve of the de- 
 ceased ; f r the deceased had said, that if it was 
 not mended, he should be ashamed to be seen 
 amongst others, whose apparel was whole. 
 And then the apparition vanished. Wherefore, 
 let every one utter his prayer with fervency; 
 for then it shall go well with him in the other 
 world. And let care be taken that no rent, nor 
 tearing, be left in the apparel in which the de- 
 ceased are interred." — Jewish Traditions, abridg- 
 ed from Buxtorf, London, 1732, Vol. II. p. 19. 
 Scott. 
 
 And she has made to them a bed, 
 She's made it large and wide; 
 
 And she's ta'en her mantle her about. 
 Sat down at the bed-side. 
 
 TJp then crew the red red cock, 
 
 And up and crew the gray ; 
 The eldest to the youngest said, 
 
 " 'Tis time we were away." 
 
 The cock he hadna crawd but once, 
 
 And clapp'd his wings at a', 
 Whan the youngest to the eldest said, 
 
 " Brother, we must awa'. 
 
 " The cock doth craw, the day doth daw. 
 The channerin'* worm doth chide - 
 
 Gin we be mist out o' our place, 
 A sair pain we maun bide. 
 
 " Fare ye weel, my mother dear ! 
 
 Fareweel to barn and byre ! 
 And fare ye weel, the bonnie lass, 
 
 That kindles my mother's fire." 
 
 >ut*> W>thn. 
 
 [" This beautiful tale of woman's love," says 
 Mr Robert Chambers, " beautiful in the pathos 
 of its simple and touching narrative, and equally 
 beautiful in the pathos of its simple and touch- 
 ing language — was first published, by Percy, as 
 an English ballad, under the title of ' Childe 
 Waters.' Mr Jamieson long afterwards pub- 
 lished a Scottish version, under the title of 
 * Burd Ellen,' from the recitation of a lady of the 
 name of Brown ; adding some fragments of ano- 
 ther copy, which he had taken down from the 
 singing of Mrs Arrot of Aberbrothvvick. Mr 
 Kinloch has more lately given, under the title of 
 ' Lady Margaret,' an imperfect copy, superior in 
 some points to that of Mr Jamieson ; and, more 
 recently still, Mr Buchan, iu his ' Ancient Bal- 
 lads and Songs,' has presented a very complete 
 one, which he entitles ' Burd Helen.* " The pre- 
 sent copy is compiled by Mr Chamters from the 
 different imperfect versions above enumerated.] 
 
 Cliannerin'— Fretting. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 1^9 
 
 
 Lord John stood in his stable door, • 
 
 Said he was boune to ride : 
 Bard Helen stood in her bouir door, 
 
 Said she'd run by his side. 
 
 ^ And he was ne'er sae lack* a knicht, 
 As ance wad bid her ride ; 
 And she was ne'er sae mean a May, 
 As ance wad bid him bide. 
 
 
 
 " The corn is turning ripe, Lord John ; 
 
 The nuts are growing fu' : 
 And ye are boune for your ain countrie ; 
 
 Fain wad I go with you." 
 
 Lord John he rade, Burd Helen ran, 
 A live-lang summer day ; 
 
 Until they cam' tj Clyde-water, 
 Was filled frae bank to brae. 
 
 
 
 " Wi' me, Helen ! wi' me, Helen ! 
 
 What wad ye do wi' me ? 
 I've mair need o' a little foot-page, 
 
 Than of the like o' thee." 
 
 " Seest thou yon water, Helen," said he, 
 " That flows from bank to brim ?" 
 
 " I trust to God, Lord John," she said, 
 " You ne'er will see me swim !" 
 
 
 
 "01 will be your little foot-boy, 
 To wait upon your steed; 
 
 And I will be your little foot-page, 
 Your leish of hounds to lead." 
 
 But he was ne'er sae lack a knicht. 
 
 As ance wad bid her ride ; 
 Nor did he sae much as i each his hand, 
 
 To help her ower the tide. 
 
 
 
 " But my hounds will eat the breid o' wheat, 
 
 And ye the dust and bran ; 
 Then will ye sit and sigh, Helen, 
 
 That e'er ye lo'ed a man." 
 
 The firsten step that she waide f in, 
 
 She wadit to the knee; 
 " Ochone, alas," quo' that ladye fair, 
 
 " This water's no for me J" 
 
 
 
 " your dogs may eat the gude wheat -breid, 
 
 And I the dust and bran ; 
 Yet will I sing and say, weel's me, 
 
 That e'er 1 lo'ed a man !" 
 
 The second step that she waide in, 
 She ste r pit to the middle : 
 
 Then, sighing, said that fair ladye, 
 " I've wet my gowden girdle." 
 
 
 
 " O better ye'd stay at hame, Helen, 
 And sew your silver seam ; 
 
 For my house U in the far Hielands, 
 And ye'll ha'e puir welcome hame." 
 
 The thirden step that she waide in, 
 
 She steppit to the neck; 
 When that the bairn that she was wi', 
 
 For cauld began to quake. 
 
 
 
 " I winna stay, Lord Jrhn," she said, 
 
 " To sew my silver seam; 
 Though your house is in the far Hielands, 
 
 And I'll ha'e puir welcome hame." 
 
 " Lie still, my babe ; lie still, my babe ; 
 
 Lie still as lang's ye may : 
 Your father, that i ides un horseback high, 
 
 Cares little for us twae." 
 
 
 
 " Then if you'll be my foot-page, Helen, 
 
 As you tell unto me, 
 Then you must cut your gown of green 
 
 An inch abune your knee. 
 
 " So you must cut your yellow locks 
 
 An inch abune your e'e ; 
 You must tell no man what is my name : 
 
 My foot-page then you'll be." 
 
 Then he has luppen on his white steed, 
 
 And straight awa' did ride ; 
 Burd Helen, dress'd in men's array, 
 
 She ran fast by his side. i 
 
 And when she cam' to the other side, 
 
 She sat down on a stane ; 
 Says, " Them that made me, help me now ; 
 
 For I am far rrae hame '. 
 
 " Oh, tell me this, now, good Lord John ; 
 
 In pity tell to me ; 
 How far is it to your lodging, 
 
 Where we this nicht maun be ?" 
 
 
 * In another version, " courteous." 
 6 t A preterite of wade, peculiar to Scotland. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
180 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS 
 
 " O dinna ye see yon castle, Helen, 
 
 Stands on yon sunny lea? 
 There ye'se get ane o' my mother's men ; 
 
 Ye'se get nae mair o' me." 
 
 " O weel see I your bonnie castell, 
 
 Stands on yon sunny lea ; 
 But I'se ha'e nane o' your mother's men, 
 
 Though I never get mair o' thee." 
 
 " But there is in yon castle, Helen, 
 
 That stands on yonder lea; 
 There is a lady in yon castle, 
 
 Will sinder you and me." 
 
 " I wish nae ill to that ladye , 
 
 She comes na in my thoeht : 
 But I wish the maid maist o' your love, 
 
 That dearest has you bocht." 
 
 When he cam' to the porter's yett, 
 
 He tirled at the pin ; 
 And wha sae ready as the bauld porter, 
 
 To open and let him in ? 
 
 Mony a lord and lady bright 
 
 Met Lord John in the closs; 
 But the bonniest lady amang them a' 
 
 Was hauding Lord John's horse. 
 
 Four and twenty gay ladyes 
 
 Led him through bouir and ha' ; 
 
 But the fairest lady that was there, 
 Led his horse to the sta'. 
 
 Then up bespak' Lord John's sister ; 
 
 These were the words spak' she : 
 " You have the prettiest foot-page, brother, 
 
 My eyes did ever see — 
 
 " But that his middle is sae thick, 
 
 His girdle sae wond'rous hie : 
 Let him, 1 pray thee, good Lord John, 
 
 To chamber go with me." 
 
 " It is not fit for a little foot-page, 
 That has run through moss and mire, 
 
 To go into chamber with any ladye 
 That wears so rich attire. 
 
 It were more meet for a little foot-page, 
 That has run through moss and mire, 
 
 To take his supper upon his knee, 
 And sit doun by the kitchen fire." 
 
 When bells were rung, and mass was sung, 
 
 And a' men boune to meat, 
 Burd Helen was, at the bye-table, 
 
 Amang the pages set. 
 
 " O eat and drink my bonnie biy, 
 The white breid and the beer." 
 
 " The never a bit can I eat or drink ; 
 My heart's sae fu' o' fear." 
 
 " O eat and drink, my bonnie boy, 
 The white breid and the wine." 
 
 " O the never a bit can I eat or drink ■ 
 My heart's sae fu' o' pyne." 
 
 But out and spak' Lord John his mother, 
 A nd a skeely* woman was she : 
 
 " Where met ye, my son, wi' that bonnie boy, 
 That looks sae sad on thee ? 
 
 " Sometimes his cheek is rosy red, 
 
 And sometimes deidly wan : 
 He's liker a woman grit wi' child, 
 
 Than a young lord's serving man." 
 
 " O it maks me laugh, my mother dear, 
 
 Sic words to hear frae thee ; 
 He is a squire's ae dearest son ; 
 
 That for love has followed me. 
 
 " Rise up, rise up, my bonnie boy ; 
 
 Gi'e my horse corn and hay." 
 " O that I will, my master deir, 
 
 As quickly as 1 may." 
 
 She took the hay aneath her arm, 
 
 The corn in till her hand; 
 But atween the stable-door and the sta' 
 
 Burd Helen made a stand. 
 
 " O room ye round, my bonnie broun steids ; 
 
 room ye near the wa'; 
 
 For the pain that strikes through my twa 
 
 1 fear, will gar me fa'." [sides, 
 
 She lean'd her back again' the wa'; 
 
 Strong travail came her on ; 
 And, e'en among the great horse' feet, 
 
 She has brought forth her son. 
 
 * Skilful— or rather expressing that property 
 in old women which makes them far-seen in 
 matters connected with the physics of human 
 nature. — Buchan, 
 

 
 
 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 181 
 
 
 When bells were rung, and mass was sung, & "I grant, I grant your askins, Helen, 
 
 
 
 And a* men boune for bed, 
 
 An* that and mair frae me; 
 
 
 
 Lord John's mother and sister gay 
 
 The very best bouir in a' my touirs, 
 
 
 
 In ae bouir they were laid. 
 
 For my young son and thee. 
 
 
 
 Lord John hadna weel got aff his claes, 
 
 " have thou comfort, fair Helen 
 
 
 
 Nor was he weel laid doun, 
 
 Be of good cheer, I pray ; 
 
 
 
 Till his mother heard a bairn greet, 
 
 And your bridal and your kirking baith 
 
 
 
 And a woman's heavy moan 
 
 Shall stand upon ae day.' 
 
 
 
 " Win up, win up, Lord John," she said ; 
 
 And he has ta'en her Burd Helen, 
 
 
 
 " Seek neither stockings nor shoen: 
 
 And rowed her in the silk ; 
 
 
 
 For I ha'e heard a bairn loud greet, 
 
 And he has ta'en his ain young son, 
 
 
 
 And a woman's heavy moan I" 
 
 And wash'd him in the milk. 
 
 
 
 Richt hastilie he rase him up, 
 
 And there was ne'er a gayer bridegroom, 
 
 
 
 Socht neither h.se nor shoen ; 
 
 Nor yet a blyther bride, 
 
 
 
 And he's doen him to the stable door, 
 
 As they, Lord John, and Lady Helen, 
 
 
 
 By the lee licht o' the mune. 
 
 Neist day to kirk did ride. 
 
 
 
 " open the door, Burd Helen," he said, 
 
 
 
 
 " open and Jet me in ; 
 
 
 
 
 
 I want to see if my steed be fed, 
 
 
 
 
 Or my greyhounds fit to rin." 
 
 (Siuralslliaiw'g (®tmfojigioii. 
 
 
 
 " lullaby, my own deir child ! 
 
 
 
 
 Lullaby, deir child, deir! 
 
 
 
 
 I wold thy father were a king, 
 
 [This is originally an English ballad, but the 
 
 
 
 Thy mother laid on a beir!" 
 
 following Scottish version is given in Mr Kinluch's 
 Ancient Scottish Ballads. — " Henry 11. of Eng- 
 
 
 
 " open the door, Burd Helen," he says, 
 
 land," says Mr Kinloch, " while Duke of Nor- 
 
 
 
 " open the door to me ; 
 
 mandy, married, at the age of nineteen, ' the 
 
 
 
 Or, as my sword hangs by my gair, 
 
 fam'd Eleanor Duchess of Guienne and Aqui- 
 
 
 
 I'll gar it gang in three !" 
 
 tain, who had lately been divorced from Lewis 
 king of France, for consanguinity and suspicion 
 
 
 
 " That never was my mother's custome. 
 
 of adultery, after she hai born him two daugh- 
 
 
 
 And I hope it's ne'er be mine ; 
 
 ters.' — Echard, b. ii. c. 1. The great disparity 
 
 
 
 A knieht into her companie, 
 
 in age, and the moral taint which attached to 
 
 
 
 When she dries a' her pyne." 
 
 her, would lead us to suspect that Henry was 
 directed in his choice, more by the allurement of 
 
 
 
 He hit the door then wi' his foot, 
 
 several rich provinces in France, than by affec- 
 
 
 
 Sae did he wi' his knee ; 
 
 tion for the lady. This nay account for his no- 
 
 
 
 Till door o' deal, and locks o' steel, 
 
 torious infidelity to her bed, particularly with 
 
 
 
 In spUnders he part flee. 
 
 ' Fair. Rosamond,' whom, it is said, Eleanor, in 
 a fit of jealousy, caused to be poisoned. Whilst 
 
 
 
 " An askin', an askin', Lord John," she says, 
 
 our historians charge Eleanor with instigating 
 
 
 
 " An askin* ye'll grant me; 
 
 her sons to rebel against their father, to which 
 
 
 
 The meanest maid about your house, 
 
 she was incited by jealousy and ill usage, they 
 
 
 
 To bring a drink to me 
 
 do not breathe the slightest suspicion against 
 her conjugal honour while queen of England. 
 
 
 
 " An askin', an askin', my dear Lord John, 
 
 It would, therefore, appear that the ballad 
 
 
 
 An askin' ye'll grant me ; 
 
 has no foundation in truth, other than it may 
 
 
 
 The warsten bouir in a' your touirs, 
 
 allude to her conduct whilst the wife of Louia 
 
 
 
 For thy young son and me !" i 
 
 •Jtii.»| 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
182 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 The queen fell sick, and very, very sick, 
 
 She was sick and like to dee ; 
 And she sent for a friar oure frae France, 
 
 Her confessour to be. 
 
 King Henry when he heard o' that, 
 
 An angry man was he ; 
 And he sent to the earl Marshall, 
 
 Attendance for to gi'e. 
 
 " The queen is sick," king Henry cried, 
 
 " And wants to be beshriven ; 
 She has sent for a friar oure frae France, 
 
 By the rude" he were better in heaven. 
 
 " But tak' you now a friar's guise, 
 
 The voice and gesture feign, 
 And when she has the pardon crav'd, 
 
 Respond to her, Amen ! 
 
 " And I will be a prelate old, 
 
 And sit in a corner dark, 
 To hear the adventures of my spouse, 
 
 My spouse, and her haly spark." 
 
 " My liege ! my liege ! how can I betray 
 
 My mistress and my queen ! 
 O swear by the rude that no damage 
 
 For this shall be gotten or be gi'en." 
 
 " I swear by the rude," quoth king Henry, 
 " No damage shall be gotten or gi'en; 
 
 Come, let us spare no cure nor care, 
 For the conscience of the queen." 
 
 " O fathers ! O fathers ! I'm very, very sick, 
 
 I'm sick and like to dee; 
 Some ghostly comfort to my poor soul, 
 
 O tell if ye can gi'e '." 
 
 " Confess ! confess !" earl Marshall cried, 
 " And you shall pardon'd be;" 
 
 "Confess! confess!" the king replied, 
 " And we shall comfort gi'e." 
 
 " O how shall I tell the sorry, sorry tale ? 
 
 How can the tale be told ! 
 I play'd the harlot wi' the earl Marshall, 
 . yon cloth of gold. 
 
 " Oh, wasna that a sin, and a very great sin ? 
 
 But I hope it will pardon'd be." 
 " Amen ! Amen !" quoth the earl Marshall, 
 
 And a very fear't heart had he. 
 
 " O down i* the forest, in a bower, 
 
 Beyond yon dark oak-tree, 
 I drew a penknife frae my pocket, 
 
 To kill king Henerie. 
 
 " Oh, wasna that a sin, and a very great sin ? 
 
 But 1 hope it will pardon'd be." 
 " Amen ! Amen !" quoth the eai 1 Marshall, 
 
 And a very fear't heart had he. 
 
 " O do you see yon pretty little boy, 
 
 That's playing at the ba' ? 
 He is the earl Marshall's only son, 
 
 And I loved him best of a'. 
 
 " Oh, wasna that a sin, and a very great sin ? 
 
 But I hope it wi.l pardon'd be." 
 " Amen ! Amen !" quoth the earl Marshall, 
 
 And a very fear't heart had he. 
 
 "And do you see yon pretty little girl 
 
 That's a' beclad in green ? 
 She's a friar's daughter oure in France, 
 
 And I hop'd to see her a queen. 
 
 " Oh, wasna that a sin, and a very great sin ? 
 
 But 1 hope it will pardon'd be." 
 " Amen ! Amen !" quoth the earl Marshall, 
 
 And a fear't heart still had he. 
 
 " O do you see yon other little boy, 
 
 That's playing at the ba' ? 
 He is king Henry's only son, 
 
 And 1 like him warst of a'. 
 
 " He's headed like a buck," she said, 
 
 " And backed like a bear:" — 
 " Amen !" quoth the king, in the king's ain 
 voice, 
 
 " He shall be my only heir!" 
 
 The king look'd over his left shoulder, 
 
 An angry man was he : — 
 " An it werna for the oath I sware, 
 
 Earl Marshall, thou should'st dee." 
 

 
 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. ] 33 
 
 
 4 
 
 b Lady Nancie died on Tuesday's nicht, 
 Lord Lovel upon the neist day ; 
 
 1 Lady Nancie died for pure, pure love, 
 Lord Lovel, for deep sorray. 
 
 
 
 [From Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads.— 
 Taken down from the recitation of a lady of 
 Roxburghshire. Loveie is the name of one of 
 the heroes of Otterburn : 
 
 %®%h Ee&at. 
 
 
 
 " Sir Jorg the worthy Loveie 
 A knyght of great renowen, 
 
 Sir Raff the iyciie Rugbe 
 With dyntes wear beaten dowene."] 
 
 [From a small volume, entitled, " The Kil- 
 marnock Annual for 1835."] 
 
 
 
 Lord Lovki. stands at his stable door, 
 Mounted upon a grey steed ; 
 
 And bye came Ladie .Nanciebel, 
 
 And wish'd Lord Lovel much speed. 
 
 Lord Lovat left the wars, 
 Beneath the halie cross, 
 To seek the weel-kent braes and scaurs, 
 And the bonnie woods o' Boss. 
 
 
 
 " O whare are ye going, Lord Lovel, 
 
 My dearest tell to me ?" 
 "01 am going a far journey, . 
 
 Some strange countrie to see ; 
 
 He gaed when time was sleeping 
 In springlight on his brow; 
 But dim and douie age was creeping 
 Oot-owre its brentness noo. 
 
 
 
 " But I'll return in seven long years, 
 
 Lady Nanciebel to see." 
 "0! seven, seven, seven long years, 
 
 They are much too long for me." 
 
 Oh ! many an eerie sight 
 Has prood Lord Lovat seen ; — 
 The wild war flashing day and night, 
 Unsparing men between : — 
 
 
 
 He was gane a year away, 
 
 A year but barely ane, 
 "When a strange fancy cam' into his head, 
 
 That fair Nanciebel was gane. 
 
 The desert and the sun, 
 Rieht owre the blistering head ; 
 The fearsome loch that gathered on 
 The wrack o* cities dead. 
 
 
 
 It's then he rade, and better rade, 
 Until he cam' to the toun, 
 
 And there he heard a dismal noise, 
 For the church bells a' did soun'. 
 
 Lord Lovat's step was first 
 When Ascalon was won ; 
 Lord Lovat's lance, the foremost burst 
 Jerusalem's was upon. 
 
 
 
 He asked what the bells rang for, 
 They said, " It's for Nanciebel: 
 
 She died for a discourteous squire, 
 And his name is Lord Lovel." 
 
 What has he got ? — Thae wars 
 Are no for pelf 1 trow; 
 But his boardlie breast is seamed with scars, 
 And gashed his sunburnt brow. 
 
 
 
 The lid o' the coffin he opened up, 
 The linens he faulded doun ; 
 
 And aye he kiss'd her pale, pale lips, 
 And the tears cam' trinkhng doun. 
 
 What has he got ? — The praise 
 0' warl ringing fame, 
 In minstrelsy a lordly place, 
 
 And knighthood's proudest name ! 
 
 
 
 " Weill may I kiss those pale, pale lips, 
 
 For they will never kiss tne;— 
 I'll ii. ak' a vow, and keep it true, 
 
 That they'll ne'er kiss ane but thee." ^ 
 
 But he wad gi'e them a' — 
 Them a.', and muekle mair, 
 For ae hour in his father's ha , 
 } Wi' the Leddy Maisrey there ! 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 134 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 
 Ae hour of auld langsyne, { 
 And langsyne's bonnie dreams ; 
 Ae daunder where the roses shine, 
 Oot-owre the laughing streams. 
 
 \ Lord Lovat's blood, I trow, 
 
 Was freezing round his heart, 
 And the cauld sweat brake in ice draps thro' 
 Upon his forehead swart. — 
 
 
 
 On — on Lord Lovat rode, 
 Through wild and rocky glen, 
 Through the quiet blackness of the wood; — 
 On — on with spur and rein. 
 
 He reached the castle ha', 
 In ruin, like the rest; 
 He only raised the hoodie craw, 
 And the sparrow from its nest ! 
 
 
 
 The sun was haflins down — 
 The drumly winter sun, 
 And the auld firs waved like shadows, round, 
 And the lift grew mirk abune. 
 
 There was an auld grey man, 
 Stood in the yard below, 
 And four score years had crossed the span 
 Of wrinkles on his brow : — 
 
 
 
 His brave and bonnie black 
 "Was worn and wearied sair; 
 They had travelled on since mornin' brak, 
 For, three score miles and mair. 
 
 " Come here thou auncient carle ! 
 And tell me where they be — 
 The line of Ross — the proud auld earle, 
 But and his dochters three ? — 
 
 
 
 " Anither step or twa, — 
 Haud on my bonnie black ! — 
 Ae ither stretch, and hearth and ha' 
 Welcomes the lang lost back !" 
 
 " And bonnier than them a", 
 May Maisrey whare is she f" 
 — The auld man turned his head awa', 
 To hide his heavy e'e. 
 
 
 
 At every step they rade 
 Lord Lovat kent a frien', 
 In the wee burn brattlin', as it gaed 
 The waving saughs between : — 
 
 " A' dead !" the auld man said— 
 " A' dead ! and ane by ane, 
 The bonniest flowers in Scotland braid, 
 In their bonniest time were ta'en ! 
 
 
 
 The rowan tree that broke 
 The refted craig oot-through ; — 
 The grey cairn and the mossy rock, 
 Wi' the wild whins on its brow, 
 
 " There was first the leddy Jean, 
 Wi' her licht laugh to the last ; 
 And then, and sune, the burd AUleen, 
 In the deadly wasting past ! — 
 
 
 
 On — on, the sun was down, 
 And the skie was dim in cloud, 
 When the keep he looked for gloomed abune 
 The shadows of the wood. — 
 
 " In sax short years the wail 
 
 For the last and best was said ; 
 
 And oh ! no lang was Boss himsel 
 
 To follow where they gaed : — 
 
 
 
 Waes me ! The weeds waved out 
 Upon the broken wa' ; 
 The grass was growin' in the moat 
 Kae licht was in the ha'; 
 
 " And, in the east, afar, 
 Lord Lovat but to be" — 
 — " Hush, vassal ! hush, and tell me whare 
 May Maisrey — whare is she !" 
 
 
 
 Nae sound was in the yard, 
 Whare spur and bridle rang; 
 And the warder's challenge word was neard 
 The midnight glens amang 
 
 " Oh she de'ed — the bonnie bride, 
 When the wild news of the war"— 
 " Awa' — awa' " — Lord Lovat cried, 
 " I douna harken mair!" — 
 
 
 
 And the cauld twilight streamed 
 O'er a' in eerie gleams ; — 
 Was this the palace hame that seemed 
 
 Sae bonnie in his dreams ? ^ 
 
 He prest his gauntlet haun' 
 Hard on his burnin' brow ; — 
 " Screech-owl of death < — awa' auld man 
 ) And leave me — leave me now." — 
 
 
 
 
 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 185 
 
 The grey haired vassel bent 
 Upon his knee, at ance ; 
 But fierce and fast Lord Lovat went, 
 With a broken spirit thence.— 
 
 " It could be nane but he, 
 I kenned his stately mak'; 
 I kenned him by his father's e'e — 
 The princely and the black ■" 
 
 —The vassal said—" This nicht, 
 O'er a' the lands of Ross, 
 Shall bale and beacon fling their licht 
 And speed the flerie cross." 
 
 That nicht a cry was heard 
 In hut and barons ha' — 
 It was an ancient gathering word, 
 Amaist forgot by a' : 
 
 That night the winter stars 
 Looked doun on mustering crests ; 
 On the banner's charge of golden bars, 
 And the mail on gallant breasts. — 
 
 The day broke, clear and cold, 
 On a sea of shimmering spears, — 
 On blazoned arms, and bearings old, 
 Of Scotland's daring peers. — 
 
 But nae Lord Lovat cam', 
 Though twice the gathering cry 
 From thousands rose the hills amang, 
 In thunder to the sky. — 
 
 " What keeps Lord Lovat now ?" 
 Said auld Balfour, at last ; 
 And to the gate with clouded brow, 
 The stalwart baron past : — 
 
 On through the halls— nae breath— 
 Nae sound was in the air — 
 On to the chapel — fixed in death, 
 Was the crusader there. — 
 
 Stretched on the altar steps, below 
 The cross, as if to pray, 
 And white, upon his sunburnt brow, 
 The drifted cranreuch lay ! 
 
 Eatog ®Ijspat. 
 
 [From Mr Jamieson's Collection, where it is 
 said to be given from the recitation of Mrs 
 Brown.] 
 
 " How brent's your brow, my lady Elspat ? 
 
 How gouden yellow is your hair ? 
 O' a' the maids o' fair Scotland, 
 
 There's nane like lady Elspat fair ' 
 
 " Perform your vows, sweet William," she says 
 " The vows which ye ha' ma le to me ; 
 
 And at the back o' my mither's castell, 
 This night 111 surely meet wi' thee." 
 
 But wae be to her brother's page, 
 
 That heard the words thir twa did say ; 
 
 He's tald them to her lady mither, 
 
 Wha wrought sweet William mickle wae. 
 
 For she has ta'en him, sweet William, 
 
 And she's gar'd bind him wi' his bow string 
 
 Till the red bluid o' his fair body 
 
 Frae ilka nail o' his hand did spring. 
 
 O, it fell ance upon a time, 
 
 That the Lord -justice came to town; 
 Out has she ta'en him, sweet William, 
 
 Brought him before the Lord-justice boun'. 
 
 " And what is the crime now, lady," he says, 
 " That has by this young man been dane .■>' 
 
 " O he has broken my bonnie castell, 
 
 That was weel biggit wi' lime and stane ; 
 
 " And he has broken my bonnie coffers, 
 That was weel bandit wi' aiken ban ; 
 
 And he lias stown my rich jewels ; 
 I wot he has stown them every ane." 
 
 Then out it spak' her Lady Elspat, 
 As she sat by Lord -justice' knee; 
 
 " Now ye ha'e told your tale, mither, 
 I pray, Lord -justice, ye'll now hear me. 
 
 " He hasna broken her bonnie castell, 
 That was weel biggit wi' lime and stane ; 
 
 Nor has he stown her rich jewels, 
 For I wat she has them every ane. 
 
186 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 " But though he waa my first true love, 4 
 And though I had sworn to be his bride, 
 
 'Cause he hadna a great estate, 
 
 She would this way our loves divide." 
 
 ( Then she has brought this pretty bird 
 Hame to her bowers and ha' ; 
 And made him shine as fair a bird 
 As ony o' them a'. 
 
 Syne out and spak' the Lord-justice, 
 I wat the tear wa3 in his e'e ; 
 
 " I see nae faut in this young man ; 
 Sae loose his bands, and set him free; 
 
 When day was gane and night was come, 
 
 About the evening tide; 
 This lady spied a. sprightly youth 
 
 Stand straight up by her side. 
 
 " And tak* your love, now, Lady Elspat; 
 
 And my best blessin' you baith upon; 
 For gin he be your first true love, 
 
 He is my eldest sister's son. 
 
 " From whence came ye, young man ?" she 
 " That does surprise me sair ; [said, 
 My door was bolted right secure; 
 , What way ha'e ye come here ?" 
 
 " There stands a steed in my stable, 
 Cost me baifch gold and white mony; 
 
 Ye's get as mickle o' my free land 
 
 As he'll ride about iu a summer's day." 
 
 " had your tongue, ye lady fair, 
 
 Lat a' your folly be ; 
 Mind ye not on your turtle doo 
 
 Last day ye brought wi' thee ?" 
 
 ®fje 3EatI of JEat** 
 
 " tell me mair, young man," she said, 
 " This does surprise me now; 
 
 What country ha'e ye come frae ? 
 What pedigree are you ?" 
 
 ^augfttar* 
 
 [From Mr Buchan's Collection.] 
 
 " My mither lives on foreign isles, 
 She has nae mair but me; 
 
 She is a queen o' wealth and state, 
 And birth and high degree. 
 
 It was intill a pleasant time, 
 
 Upon a simmer's day, 
 The noble earl of Mar's daughtet 
 
 Went forth to sport and play. 
 
 " Likewise well skill'd in magic spells, 
 
 As ye may plainly see ; 
 And she transform'd me to yon shape, 
 
 To charm such maids as thee. 
 
 As thus she did amuse hersel', 
 Below a green aik tree, 
 
 There she saw a sprightly doo 
 Set on a tower sae hie. 
 
 "lama doo the live lang day, 
 A sprightly youth at night ; 
 
 This aye gars me appear mair fair 
 In a fair maiden's sight. 
 
 " O cow-me-doo, my love sae true, 
 If ye'U come down to me, 
 
 Ye'se ha'e a cage o' guid red gowd 
 Instead o' simple tree : 
 
 " And it was but this verra day 
 That I came ower the sea ; 
 
 Tour lovely face did me enchant, — 
 I'll live and dee wi* thee." 
 
 " I'll put gowd hingers roun' your cage, 
 
 And siller roun' your wa'; 
 I'll gar ye shine as fair a bird 
 
 As ony o' them a'." 
 
 " cow-me-doo, my luve sae true, 
 Nae mair frae me ye'se gae." 
 
 " That's never my intent, my luve, 
 As ye said, it shall be sae." 
 
 But she hadnae these words well spoke. 
 
 Nor yet these words well said, 
 Till cow-me-doo flew frae the tower, 
 
 And lighted on her head. . 
 
 Then he has staid in bower wi' her 
 
 For sax lang years and ane, 
 Till sax young sons to him she bare, 
 a And the seventh she's brought hame. 
 

 
 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 187 
 
 
 Bat aye aa ever a child was born, 4 
 
 He carried them away ; 
 And brought them to his mither's care, 
 
 As fast as they could fly. 
 
 > "Instead of dancers to dance, mither, 
 Or minstrells for to play ; 
 Turn four-and-twenty wall-wight meD 
 Like 6torks, in feathers gray; 
 
 
 
 Thus he has staid in bower wi' her 
 For twenty years and three ; 
 
 There came a lord o* high renown 
 To court this fair ladie. 
 
 "My seven sons in seven swans, 
 Aboon their heads to flee ; 
 
 And I, mysel', a gay gos-hawk, 
 A bird o' high degree." 
 
 
 
 But still his profer she refused, 
 A nd a' his presents too ; 
 
 Says, " I'm content to live alane 
 Wi' my bird, coo-me-doo." 
 
 Then sichin, said the queen hersel', 
 " That thing's too high for me ;" 
 
 But she applied to an auld woman, 
 "Who had mair skill than she. 
 
 
 
 Her father sware a solemn oath 
 
 Amang the nobles all, 
 " The morn, or ere I eat or drink, 
 
 This bird 1 will gar kill." 
 
 Instead o' dancers to dance a dance, 
 Or minstrells for to play; 
 
 Four-and-twenty wall-wight men 
 Turn'd birds o' feathers gray; 
 
 
 
 The bird was sitting in his cage, 
 And heard what they did say ; 
 
 And when he found they were dismist, 
 Says, " Waes me for this day. 
 
 Her seven sons in seven swans, 
 Aboon their heads to flee; 
 
 And he, himsel', a gay gos-hawk, 
 A bird o' high degree. 
 
 
 
 " Before that t do langer stay, 
 And thus t be forlorn, 
 
 I'll gang unto my mither's bower, 
 "Where I was bred and born." 
 
 This flock o' birds took flight and flew 
 
 Beyond the raging sea; 
 And landed near the earl Mar's castle, 
 
 Took shelter in every tree. 
 
 
 
 Then cow me-doo took flight and flew 
 
 Beyond the raging sea; 
 And lighted near his mither's castle 
 
 On a tower o' gowd sae hie. 
 
 They were a flock o' pretty birds 
 
 Bight comely to be seen ; 
 The people view'd them wi' surprise 
 
 As they danced on the green. 
 
 
 
 As his mither was wauking out, 
 To see what she could see ; 
 
 And there she saw her little son 
 Set on the tower sae hie. 
 
 These birds ascended frae the tree, 
 And lighted on the ha' ; 
 
 And at the last wi' force did flee 
 Amang the nobles a'. 
 
 
 
 " Get dancers here to dance," she said, 
 " And minstrells for to play ; 
 
 For here's my young son, Florentine, 
 Come here wi' me to stay." 
 
 The storks there seized some o' the men, 
 They c> uld neither fight nor flee ; 
 
 The swans they bound the bride's best man, 
 Below a green aik tree. 
 
 
 
 " Get nae dancers to dance, mither, 
 Nor minstrells for to play ; 
 
 For the mither o' my seven sons, 
 The morn's her wedding-day." 
 
 They lighted next on maidens fair, 
 Then on the bride's own head; 
 
 And wi' the twinkling o' an e'e, 
 The bride and them were fled. 
 
 
 
 " O tell me, tell me, Florentine, 
 
 Tell me, and tell me true ; 
 Tell me this day without a flaw, 
 
 "What 1 will do for you." ^ 
 
 There's ancient men at weddings been, 
 
 For sixty years or more ; 
 But sic a curious wedding-day 
 5 They never saw before. 
 
 
188 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 For naething could the companie do, 
 
 Nor naething could they say; 
 But they saw a flock o' pretty birds 
 
 That took their bride away. 
 
 When that the earl Mar, he came to know, 
 
 "Where his dochter did stay ; 
 He sign'd a bond o' unity, 
 
 And visits now they pay. 
 
 %ab% fJaM. 
 
 [Given in Mr Jamieson's Collection, from 
 the recitation of Mrs Brown.] 
 
 " O wha will bake my bridal bread, 
 
 And brew my bridal ale ? 
 And wha will welcome my bright bride, 
 
 That I bring o'er the dale ?" 
 
 "01 will bake your bridal bread, 
 
 And brew your bridal-ale ; 
 And I will welcome your bright bride, 
 
 That you bring o'erjthe dale." 
 
 " O she that welcomes my bright bride, 
 
 Maun gang like maiden fair; 
 She maun lace her in her green clothing, 
 
 And braid her yellow hair.' 
 
 " O how can I gang maiden-like, 
 
 When maiden I am nane; 
 When I ha'e born you seven sons, 
 
 And am wi' bairn again ?" 
 
 The lady stood in her bower door/ 
 
 And looked o'er the land, 
 And there she saw her ain good lord 
 
 Leading his bride by the hand. 
 
 She's drest her sons i' the scarlet red, 
 
 Hersel' i' the dainty green; 
 And though her cheek look'd pale and wan, 
 
 She well might ha'e been a queen. 
 
 She call'd upon her eldest son, 
 
 " Look yonder what you see ; 
 For yonder comes your father dear, 
 
 Your step-mother him wi'. — 
 
 " O you're welcome name, my aiu good lord, 
 To your halls but and your bowers ; 
 
 You are welcome name, my ain good lord, 
 To your castles and your towers; 
 
 Sae is your bright bride you beside ; — 
 She's fairer than the flowers." 
 
 " O whatten a lady's that," she says, 
 
 " That welcomes you and me ? 
 If I'm lang lady about this place, 
 
 Some good I will her dee ; 
 She is sae like my sister Jane, 
 
 Was stown i' the bower frae me." 
 
 O she has served the lang tables 
 
 Wi" the white-bread and the wine ; 
 
 But ay she drank the wan water, 
 To keep her colour fine.* 
 
 And she gaed by the first table, 
 
 And leugh amang them a'; 
 But ere she reacrrd the second table, 
 
 She loot the tears down fa'. 
 
 She's ta'en a napkin lang and white, 
 
 And hung't upon a pin: — 
 It was to dry her watery eyes 
 
 As she gaed out and in. 
 
 When bells were rung, and mass was sung, 
 
 And a" man boun' to bed, 
 The bride but and the bonnie bridegroom 
 
 In ae chamber were laid. 
 
 She's ta'en her harp intill her hand, 
 
 To harp this twa asleep ; 
 And ay as she harped and she sang, 
 
 Full sorely did she weep. 
 
 " O seven full fair sons I have born, 
 To the good lord o' this place ; 
 
 And I wish that they were seven hares, 
 To run the castle race, 
 
 And I mysel' a good grey hound, 
 And I wad gi'e them chase. 
 
 " O seven full fair sons 1 have born, 
 To the good lord o' this ha', 
 
 * To keep her colour jine—To preserve her 
 complexion ; to keep her from betraying the 
 secret emotions of her heart by changing coun 
 tenance. — Jamieson. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. |gy 
 
 
 And I wish that they were seven rattons, 4& Then o' his coat he's made a boat, 
 
 
 
 To run the castle wa', 
 
 And o' his sark a sail ; 
 
 
 
 And I mysel' a good grey cat, 
 
 And o* his cane a gude tapmast, 
 
 
 
 And I wad worry them a'. 
 
 Dry land till he came till. 
 
 
 
 " The earl o" Richmond was my father, 
 
 He is on to Annie's bower door, 
 
 
 
 And the lady was my mither ; 
 
 And tirled at the pin ; — 
 
 
 
 And a' the bairns beside mysel' 
 
 " sleep ye, wake ye, my love Annie, 
 
 
 
 Was a sister and a brither." 
 
 Ye'll rise lat me come in." 
 
 
 
 " Sing on, sing on, ye sad lady ; 
 
 '-' who is this at my bower door, 
 
 
 
 I wat ye ha'e sung in time ; 
 
 Sae well that kens my name ?" 
 
 
 
 Gin the earl o' Richmond was your father 
 
 "It is your true love, sweet Willie, 
 
 
 
 I wat sae was he mine." 
 
 For you I've cross'd the faem." 
 
 
 
 " Rise up, rise up, my bierly bride, 
 
 " I am deeply sworn, Willie, 
 
 
 
 I think my bed's but cald ; 
 
 By father and by mother; 
 
 
 
 I wadna hear my lady lament 
 
 At kirk or market where we meet, 
 
 
 
 For your tocher ten times tald." 
 
 We darena own each other. 
 
 
 
 " seven ships did bring you here, 
 
 " And I am deeply sworn, Willie, 
 
 
 
 And ane sail tak' you name ; 
 
 By my bauld brothers three ; 
 
 
 
 The lave I'll keep to your sister Jane, 
 
 At kirk or market where we meet, 
 
 
 
 For tocher she gat nane." 
 
 I darena speak to thee." 
 " Te take your red fan in your hand, 
 
 
 
 "~ 
 
 Your white fan ower your een ; 
 And ye may swear, and save your oath, 
 Ye saw nae me come in. 
 
 
 
 @J>« JSrot iu Utofon. 
 
 She's ta'en her red fan in her hand, 
 The white fan ower her een ; 
 
 
 
 [This old and once popular ballad we give, 
 with some slight alterations, from Mr Buchan's 
 
 It was to swear and save her oath, 
 She saw nae him come in. 
 
 
 
 Collection. The character of " sister Ann," as 
 
 
 
 
 here depicted, and her indifference about her 
 slain brothers, would scarcely meet the approval 
 of modern times.] 
 
 They hadna kiss'd nor love clapped, 
 As lovers do when they meet; 
 
 Till up it waukens her mother, 
 Out o* her drowsy sleep. 
 
 
 
 There are sixteen lang miles I'm sure, 
 
 " Win up, win up, my three bauld sons, 
 
 
 
 Between my love and me ; 
 
 Win up and make ye noun' ; 
 
 
 
 There are eight o' them in gude dry land, 
 
 Your sister's lover's in her bower, 
 
 
 
 And other eight by sea 
 
 And he's but new come in." 
 
 
 
 Betide me life, bttide me death, 
 
 Then up it raise her three bauld sons, 
 
 
 
 My love I'll gang and see; 
 
 And girt to them their brand ; 
 
 
 
 Although her friends they do me hate, 
 
 And they are to their sister's bower 
 
 
 
 Her love is great for me. 
 
 As fast as they could gang. 
 
 
 
 Of my coat I'll make a boat, 
 
 When they came to their sister's bower, 
 
 
 
 And o' my sark a sail ; 
 
 They sought it up and down ; 
 
 
 
 And o* my cane a gude tapinast, 
 
 But there was neither man nor boy. 
 
 
 
 Dry land tiU 1 come till. ^ 
 
 } In her bower to be foun". 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 190 SCOTTISH 
 
 BALLADS. 
 
 
 Then out it speaks the first o' them, $ 
 
 " "We'll gang and lat her be ; 
 For there is neither man nor boy 
 
 In till her com, anie." 
 
 > Then up they came like three fierce men, 
 Wi' mony shout and cry ; 
 " Bide still, bide still, ye cowardly youth, 
 What makes you haste away f 
 
 
 Then out it speaks the second son, 
 " Our travel's a' in vain ; 
 
 But mother dear, nor father dear, 
 Shall break our rest again." 
 
 " For I must know before you go, 
 Tell me, and make nae lie; — 
 
 If ye've been in my sister's bower, 
 My hands shall gar ye die." 
 
 
 Then out it speaks the third o' them, 
 
 (An ill death mat he die !) 
 "We'll lurk amang the bent sae brown, 
 
 That Willie we may see.' 
 
 " Though I've been in your sister's bower, 
 
 1 have nae fear o' thee ; 
 I'll stand my ground, and fiercely fight, 
 
 And shall gain victorie." 
 
 
 He stood behind his love's curtains, 
 His goud rings show'd him light 
 
 And by this ye may a* weel guess, 
 He was a renowned knight. 
 
 " Now I entreat you for to stay, 
 
 Unto us gi'e a wad ; 
 If ye our words do not obey, 
 
 I'se gar your body bleed." 
 
 
 He's done him to his love's stable, 
 Took out his berry-brown steed; 
 
 His love stood in her bower door, 
 Her heart was like to bleed. 
 
 " I have nae wad," says sweet Willie, 
 
 " Unless it be my brand ; 
 And that shall guard my fair body, 
 
 Till I win frae your hand." 
 
 
 " mourn ye for my coming, love ? 
 
 Or for my short staying ? 
 Or mourn ye for our safe sind'ring, 
 
 Case we never meet again f" 
 
 Then twa o' them stept in behind, 
 
 All in a furious meed ; 
 The third o' them came him before, 
 
 And seiz'd his berry-brown steed. 
 
 
 " I mourn nae for your here coming, 
 Nor for your staying lang ; 
 
 Nor mourn 1 for our safe sind'ring, — 
 I hope we'll meet again. 
 
 O then he drew his trusty brand, 
 That hang down by his gare ; 
 
 And he has slain these three fierce men, 
 And left them sprawling there. 
 
 
 " I wish ye may won safe away, 
 And safely frae the town ; 
 
 For ken you not my brothers three 
 Are 'mang the bent sae brown." 
 
 Then word has gane to her mother, 
 
 In bed where she slept soun', 
 That Willie had killd her three bauld sons, 
 
 Amang the bent sae brown. 
 
 
 " If I were on my berry-brown steed, 
 And three miles frae the town, 
 
 I wouldna fear your three bauld brothers, 
 Amang the bent sae brown." 
 
 Then she has cut the locks that hung 
 
 Sae low down by her e'e; 
 Sae has she kiltit her green claithing 
 
 A little aboon her knee. 
 
 
 He leint him ower his saddle bow, 
 And kiss'd her lips sae sweet; 
 
 The tears that fell between these twa, 
 They wat his great steed's feet. 
 
 And she has on to the king's court, 
 As fast as gang could she; 
 
 When fair Annie got word o' that, 
 Was there as soon as she. 
 
 
 But he wasna on his lierry -brown steed, 
 
 Nor twa mile6 frae the town, 
 Till up it starts these three fierce men, 
 
 Amang the bent sae biown. < 
 
 Her mother went before the king, 
 
 Fell low down on her knee: 
 " Win up, win up, my dame," he said, 
 6 " What is your will wi' me?" 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. \ 9 \ 
 
 
 " My wills they are not sma', my liege, S> 
 
 The truth I'll tell to thee : 
 There is ane o" your courtly knights 
 
 Last night ha'e robhed me." 
 
 i 
 
 
 
 " And has he broke your bigly bowers, 
 
 Or has he stole your fee ? 
 There is nae knight into my court 
 
 Last night has been frae me ; 
 
 "Unless 'twas Willie 0' Lauderdale, 
 
 Forbid that it be he!" 
 " And by my sooth," says the auld woman, 
 
 " That very man is he. 
 
 [This is a translation by Mr Jamieson from 
 the Danish.] 
 
 Tiierb dwalls a lady in Danmarck, 
 
 Lady Hillers lyle men her ca' ; 
 And she's gar'd bigg a new castell, 
 
 That shines o'er Danmarck a'. 
 
 
 
 " For he has broke my bigly bowers, 
 
 And he has stole my fee ; 
 And made my daughter, Ann, his love, 
 
 And an ill woman is she. 
 
 Her dochter was stown awa' frae her ; 
 
 She sought for her wide-whare ; 
 But the mair she sought, and the less she fano.,— 
 
 That wirks her sorrow and care. 
 
 
 
 " That was not all he did to me, 
 Ere he went frae the town ; 
 
 My sons sae true he fiercely slew, 
 Amang the bent sae brown." 
 
 And she's gar'd bigg a new ship, 
 Wi' vanes 0' flaming goud, 
 
 "Wi* mony a knight and mariner, 
 Sae stark in need bestow'd. 
 
 
 
 Then out it spake her daughter Ann, 
 She stood by the king's knee ; 
 
 " Ye lie, ye lie, my mother dear, 
 Sae loud's I hear you lie. 
 
 She's followed her sons down to the strand, 
 
 That chaste and noble fre; 
 And wull and waif for eight lang years 
 
 They sail'd upon the sea. 
 
 
 
 " He has not broke your bigly bowers, 
 
 Nor has he stole your fee ; 
 Nor made your daughter, Ann, his love, 
 
 A good woman I'll be. 
 
 And eight years wull and waif they sail'd, 
 O' months that seen.'d sae lang; 
 
 Syne they sail'd afore a high castell, 
 And to the land can gang. 
 
 
 
 " Although he slew your three bauld sons, 
 
 He weel might be forgi'en ; 
 They were well clad in armour bright, 
 
 "Whan my love was him lane." 
 
 And the young lady Svane lyle, 
 In the bower that was the best, 
 
 Says, " Wharfrae cam thir frem swains 
 Wi' us this night to guest ?"* 
 
 
 
 " "Well spoke, well spoke," the king replied, 
 
 " This tauking pleases me; 
 For ae kiss 0' your lovely mouth, 
 
 I'll set your true love free." 
 
 She's ta'en the king in her arms, 
 And kiss'd him cheek and chin ; 
 
 He then set her behind her love, 
 And they went singing hame. 
 
 Then up and spak' her youngest brither 
 
 Sae wisely aye spak' he ; 
 " We are a widow's three poor sons, 
 
 Lang wilder'd on the sea. 
 
 
 * Swains — In this, and the other translations 
 from the Danish, the term twain is used in its 
 original and proper sense, to signify a young man. 
 The term lyle (little), so often annexed, to ex- 
 press endearment, to the nan.es of ladies in the 
 Danish ballads, is still in use in Cumbeiland and 
 y the northern counties of England. — Jamieson. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
192 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 " In Danmarck were we born and bred, 
 Lady Millers lyle was our mither; 
 
 Our sister frae us was stown awa', 
 We findna whare or whither." 
 
 "In Danmarck were ye born and bred ? 
 
 Was lady Hillers your mither ? 
 I can nae langer heal frae thee, 
 
 Thou art my youngest brither. 
 
 " And hear ye this, my youngest brither, 
 
 Why bade na ye at hame ? 
 Had ye a hunder and thousand lives, 
 
 Ye canna brook ane o' them.' 
 
 She's set him in the weiest nook 
 
 She in the house can meet ; 
 She's bidden him for the high God's sake 
 
 Nouther to laugh ne greet. 
 
 Rosmer hame frae Zealand came, 
 
 And he took on to bann ; 
 " I smell fu' weel, by my right hand, 
 
 That here is a Christian man." 
 
 " There flew a bird out o'er the house, 
 Wi' a man's bane in his mouth ; 
 
 He coost it in, and 1 cast it out, 
 As fast as e'er I couth." 
 
 But wilyly she can Eosmer win ; 
 
 And clapping him tenderly, 
 " It's here is come my sister-son ; — 
 
 Gin 1 lose him, I'll die. 
 
 " It's here is come my sister-son, 
 Frae baith our fathers' land ; 
 
 And I ha'e pledged him faith and troth, 
 That ye will not him bann." 
 
 " And is he come thy sister-son, 
 Frae thy father's land to thee ? 
 
 Then I will swear my highest aith, 
 He's dree nae skaith frae me." 
 
 'Twas then the high king Rosmer, 
 
 He cad on younkers twae : 
 " Ye bid proud Svane lyle's sister-soa 
 
 To the chalmer afore me gae." 
 
 It was Svane lyle's sister-son, 
 Whan afore Rosmer he wan, 
 
 His heart it quook, and his body shook, 
 Sae fley'd, he scarce dow stand. 
 
 Sae Rosmer took her sister-son, 
 
 Set him upon his knee ; 
 He clappit him sae luifsomely, 
 
 He turned baith blue and blae.* 
 
 And up and spak' she, Svane lyle ; 
 
 " Sir Rosmer, ye're nae to learn, 
 That your ten fingers arena sma', 
 
 To clap sae little a bairn." 
 
 There was he till, the fifthen year, 
 
 He green'd for hame and land : 
 " Help me now, sister Svane lyle, 
 
 To be set on the white sand." 
 
 It was proud lady Svane lyle, 
 
 Afore Rosmer can stand : 
 " This younker sae lang in the sea has been, 
 
 He greens for hame and land." 
 
 " Gin the younker sae lang in the sea has been 
 
 And greens for hame and land, 
 Then I'll gi'e him a kist wi' goud, 
 
 Sae fitting till his hand." 
 
 " And will ye gi'e him a kist wi' goud, 
 
 Sae fitting till his hand ? 
 Then hear ye, my noble heartis dear, 
 
 Ye bear them baith to land." 
 
 Then wrought proud lady Svane lyle 
 
 What Rosmer little wist; 
 For she's tane out the goud sae red, 
 
 And laid hersel' i' the kist. 
 
 He's ta'en the man upon his back ; 
 
 The kist in his mouth took he ; 
 And he has gane the lang way up 
 
 Frae the bottom o' the sea.f 
 
 " Now I ha'e borne thee to the land ; 
 
 Tbou seest baith sun and moon ; 
 Namena lady Svane for thy highest God, 
 
 1 beg thee as a boon." 
 
 * Blue and blae. — In England they say, 
 "black and blue;" but the Danish has it, 
 " yellow and gray." — Jamieson. 
 
 f This Rosmer Longshanks, as he is called in 
 another of the ballads, must have been of the 
 most Gargantuan dimensions, not to have been 
 sensible, when he put the chest in his mouth, of 
 the difference of weight between Svane lyle and 
 a chesiful of gold. — Jamieson. 
 
1 sprang i' the saut sea out, 
 And jawp'd it up i' the sky ; 
 But whan he cam' till the castell in, 
 Nae Svane lyle could he spy. 
 
 Whan he cam' till the castell in, 
 
 His dearest awa' was gane ; 
 Like wood he sprang the castell about, 
 
 On the rock o' the black flintstane. 
 
 Glad they were in proud Hillers lyle's house, 
 
 Wi' weleo.. e joy and glee; 
 Hame to their friends her bairns were come, 
 
 That had lang been in the sea. 
 
 $ffiawf)ione*S of Hfiiu§lag. 
 
 [The circumstances in real life, which gave 
 rise to this ballad, are thus detailed by Mr 
 Chambers, from wh se collection the ballad is 
 taken.—" James second marquis of Douglas, 
 when aged twenty-four, married, at Edinburgh, 
 on the 7th of September, 1670, Lady Barbara 
 Erskine, eldest daughter of John, ninth earl of 
 Mar. This lady is said to have been previously 
 wooed, without success, by a gentleman of the 
 name of Lowrie, who, on account of his after- 
 wards marrying Manotte Weir, heiress of Black- 
 wood, in Lanarkshire, was commonly called, 
 according to the custom of Scotland, the Tutor, 
 and sometimes the Laird, of Blackwood. Lowrie, 
 who seen, s to have been considerably advanced 
 in life at the time, was chamberlain or factor to 
 the Marquis of Douglas ; a circumstance which 
 gave him peculiar facilities for executing an 
 atrocious scheme of vengeance he had projected 
 against the lady. By a train of proceedings 
 somewhat similar to those of iago, and in parti- 
 cular, by pretending to have discovered a pair of 
 men's shoes underneath the Marchioness's bed, 
 he completely succeeded in breaking up the affec- 
 tion of tlie unfortunate couple. Lord Douglas, 
 who, though a man of profligate conduct, had 
 hitherto treated his wife with some degree of 
 politeness, now rendered her life so miserable, 
 that she was obliged to seek refuge with her 
 father. The Earl came with a large retinue, to 
 carry her off, when, according tu the ballad, as 
 well as the traditiou of the country, a most 
 affecting scene took place. The Marquis him- 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 193 
 
 & self was so much overcome by the parting of his 
 wife and child — for she had now borne a son — 
 that he expressed, even in that last hour, a desire 
 of being reconciled to her. But the traitorous 
 Lowrie succeeded in preventing him from doing 
 i so, by a well-aimed sarcasm at his weakness. 
 Begarding the ultimate fate of the Marchioness 
 I am altogether ignorant. It is, however, very- 
 improbable that any reconciliation ever took 
 place between her and her husband, such as is 
 related in the ballad. Her son was afterwards a 
 personage of some historical note. When only 
 eighteen years of age, he raised the 20 th, or 
 Cameroniau regiment; a band originally asso- 
 ciated in 1689 for the purpose of protecting the 
 Convention of Estates at Edinburgh, while the 
 measure of the Revolution was in agitation, but 
 which he afterwards led abroad to fight in King 
 William's French wars. He was killed, when 
 in the act of leading on the regiment, at the 
 battle of Steinkirk, in 1692, when only twenty- 
 one years of age. The Marquis of Douglas mar- 
 ried a second wife, who bore to him the noted 
 Archibald duke of Douglas, Lady Jane Douglas, 
 and other children ; and thus, what is a very 
 strange circumstance, the venerable Lord Dou- 
 glas, who died in 1827, was but grandson to the 
 ' fause love" who sent the heroine of ' Waly, 
 waly,' to take up her couch on Arthur's Seat, 
 and slake her thirst at St Anton's Well, in the 
 decade of 1670. Lowrie distinguished himself in 
 the religious troubles of the reign of Charles II. 
 He had been accessory to the insurrection of 
 1666, and was condemned to death for his con- 
 cern in the affair of Bothwell-bridge, but was 
 pardoned. Fountainhall describes him as a 
 man disliked by people of every party and every 
 condition."] 
 
 Part Fibst. 
 
 " waly, waly, up yon bank, 
 And waly, waly, doun yon brae, 
 
 And waly, waly, by yon burn-side, 
 W r here 1 and my love wont to gae ! 
 
 " Hey, nonnie, nonnie, but love is bonnie, 
 A little while, when it is new ; 
 
 But when it's auld, it waxes cauld, 
 And fades away like morning dew.* 
 
 * The stanz 
 Motherwell h 
 
 run3 thus in the copy which Mr 
 i extracted from the Pepysian 
 
194 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 " I leant my back unto an aik ; 
 
 I thought it was a trusty tree ; 
 But first it bowed, and syne it brak, 
 
 And sae did my fause love to me. 
 
 " My mother tauld me, when I was young, 
 That young man's love was ill to trow ; 
 
 But untill her I wald give nae ear, 
 
 And, alace, my ain wand dings me now ! 
 
 " O had I wist, before I kist, 
 
 That love had been sae ill to win, 
 
 I had locked my heart with a key o' gowd, 
 And pinned it wi' a siller pin. 
 
 " O wherefore should I busk my head, 
 wherefore should I kaim my hair, 
 
 Since my true-love has me forsook, 
 And says he'll never love me mair ? 
 
 " As we came in by Glasgow toun, 
 We were a comely sicht to see ; 
 
 My love was clad in black velvet, 
 And I mysel' in cramasie. 
 
 " Now Arthur's Seat shall be my bed, 
 The sheets shall ne'er be pressed by me, 
 
 St Anton's Well shall be my drink, 
 Since my true-love has forsaken me.* 
 
 Library. In the ordinary versions, it begins, 
 " O waly, waly, but love be bonnie ;" and Allan 
 Ramsay gives this line as the title of the song, 
 only substituting the word " gin" [if] for " but." 
 A third variation is quoted, in Leyden's Intro- 
 duction to the " Complaynt of Scotland," from a 
 manuscript Cantus, or Collection of Songs, dated 
 in the latter part of the seventeenth century : — 
 
 !ey trol 
 A whyle 
 
 But when it's old, it grows full cold, 
 Woe worth the love untrue!" 
 Buring the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, 
 both " nonnie, nonnie," and " Troly, loly !" 
 were common burdens of songs. A song under 
 the title of " Trolee, lolee," is mentioned in the 
 Complaynt of Scotland, 1548, and also in Lane- 
 ham's Account of the reception of Queen Eliza- 
 beth at Kenilworth, 1575. Perhaps, the elegant 
 modern burden, beginning, " Tol de rol, lol de 
 rol," may be a genuine descendant of the " Troly, 
 loly," of the two centuries before the last. 
 
 Chambert. 
 * Arthur's seat is a well-known hill near Edin- 
 
 % " Oh, Martima8 wind, when wilt thou blaw, 
 And shake the green leaves aflf the tree ? 
 Oh, gentle death, when wilt thou come, 
 And take a life that wearies me ? 
 
 " It's not the frost that freezes fell, 
 Nor driftin' snaw's inclemencie; 
 
 It's not sic cauld that makes me cry, 
 
 But my love's heart's grown cauld to me. 
 
 " And oh, an my young babe was born, 
 And set upon the nurse's knee, 
 
 And I mysel' were deid and gane, 
 
 And the green grass growing over me ! 
 
 " When lords and lairds cam' to this toun, 
 
 And gentlemen o' high degree, 
 I took my auld son in my arms, 
 
 And went to my chamber pleasantlie. 
 
 " But when lords and lairds come neist to the 
 And gentlemen o' high degree, [toun, 
 
 " 0, I maun sit in the dark, alane, 
 
 Wi' my young son on the nurse's knee' 
 
 O, I maun sit in the dark, alane, 
 And ne'er a ane to comfort me 1" 
 
 Part Second. 
 " When I lay sick, and very sick, 
 
 When I lay sick, and like to die, 
 A gentleman of good account 
 
 Came from the west to visit me ; 
 But Blackwood whisper'd in my lord's ear, 
 
 He was ower lang in the chamber wi' me. 
 
 " When I was sick, and very sick, 
 When I was sick, and like to die, 
 
 As I drew near to my stair-head, 
 I heard my ain lord lichtlie me. 
 
 burgh, and St Anton's, or St Anthony's Well, a 
 fountain which springs from its side, near to the 
 ruins of a small chapel and hermitage, the ten- 
 ant of which it must have supplied with water. 
 The explanation here given of the occasion of the 
 ballad is countenanced by local circumstances. 
 The forlorn countess, in alluding to the period 
 when 6he was an honoured wife, speaks of a visit 
 to Glasgow, a city near to her husband's residence 
 and estates: in alluding to her present degraded 
 condition, when residing with her father at 
 Edinburgh, she introduces Arthur's Seat and St 
 Anthony's Well, two objects of note in the im- 
 mediate vicinity of the capital. — Chambert, 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 195 
 
 ** Gae, little page, and tell your lord, 
 Gin he'll come doun and dine wi' me, 
 
 I'll set him on a chair o' gowd, 
 
 And serve him on my bended knee." 
 
 The little page gaed up the stair: 
 
 " Lord Douglas, dine wi' your ladye ; 
 
 She'll set ye on a chair o' gowd, 
 And serve ye on her bended knee." 
 
 " "When cockle shells turn silver bells, 
 When wine dreips red frae ilka tree, 
 
 When frost and snaw will warm us a', 
 Then I'll come doun and dine wi' thee." 
 
 " What ails you at your youngest son, 
 That sits upon the nurse's knee ? 
 
 I'm sure that he has done nae harm, 
 Unless to his ain nurse and me. 
 
 " If I had kent what I ken now, 
 
 That love it was so ill to win, 
 I should ne'er ha' wet my cherry cheek, 
 
 For ony man or mother's son. 
 
 " But when my father got word o' this, 
 
 what au angry man was he ! 
 
 He sent fourscore o' his archers bauld, 
 To bring me safe to his ain countrie. 
 
 " When 1 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 m<j. 
 
 " Fare ye weel, then, Jamie Douglas ; 
 
 1 need care as little as ye care for me: 
 The Earl of Mar is my father dear, 
 
 And I sune will see my ain countrie. 
 
 " Ye thocht that I was like yoursel', 
 
 And loving ilk ane 1 did see; 
 But here I swear by the heavens clear, 
 
 I never loved a man but thee. 
 
 " Slowly, slowly, rase he up, 
 
 And slowly, slowly cam' he doun ; 
 
 And when he saw me set on his horse, 
 
 He garred his drums and trumpets sound. 
 
 *' When I upon my horse was set, 
 My tenants all were with me ta'en ; 
 
 They set them doun upon their knees, 
 And they begged me to came back again. 
 
 "It's fare ye weel, my bonnie palace, 
 And fare ye weel, my children three ! 
 
 God grant your father may get mair grace, 
 And love ye better than he has loved me. 
 
 " It's fare ye weel, my servants all, 
 And you, my bonnie children three ! 
 
 God grant your father grace to be kind, 
 Till I see you safe in my ain countrie. 
 
 "Now wae be to you, fause Blackwood, 
 Aye, and an ill death may you dee ! 
 
 Te was the first and foremost man, 
 That parted my true love and me." 
 
 Part Thlrd. 
 
 " As on we cam' to Edinburgh toun, 
 My gude father he welcomed me. 
 
 He caused his minstrels meet to sound . 
 It was nae music at a' to me ; 
 
 For nae mirth nor music sounds in my ear 
 Since my true love's forsaken me." 
 
 " Now haud your tongue, my daughter dear, 
 And of your weeping let me be ; 
 
 For a bill of divorce I'll gar write for him, 
 And I'll get as gude a lord to thee." 
 
 " Oh, haud your tongue, my father dear, 
 
 And o' such talking let me be; 
 I wadna gi'e ae look o' my guid lord's face 
 
 For all the lords in the north countrie. 
 
 " Oh, I'll cast aff my robes o' red, 
 And I'll put on my robes o' blue ; 
 
 And I will travel to some other land, 
 To see gin my love will on me rue. 
 
 " There sail nae wash come on my face ; 
 
 There sail nae kame come in my hair; 
 There sail neither coal nor candle-licht 
 
 Be seen intill my bouir mair." 
 
 When she cam' to her father's land, 
 
 The tenants a ; cam' her to see ; 
 Never a word she could speak to them, 
 
 But the buttons aff her claes would file. 
 
 " The lintie is a bonnie bird, 
 And aften flies far frae its nest ; 
 
 Sae a' the world may plainly see, 
 They're far awa' that I love best. ' 
 
196 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 Part Fourth. 
 
 As she was sitting at her bouir window, 
 
 Looking afar ower hill and glen, 
 Wha did she see but fourscore soldiers, 
 
 That cam' to tak' her back again. 
 
 Out bespak' the foremost man ; 
 
 And whaten a weel-spoken man was he ! 
 " If the Lady Douglas be within, 
 
 Ye'll bid her come doun and speak to me." 
 
 But out bespak' her father then; 
 
 I wat an angry man was he ! 
 " Te may gang back the gate ye cam*, 
 
 For her face again ye'll never see." 
 
 " Now haud your tongue, my father," she says, 
 
 " And of your folly let me be; 
 For I'll gae back to my gude lord, 
 
 Since his love has come back to me." 
 
 Sae she has dressed llersel' fu' braw, 
 And mounted on her dapple grey, 
 
 And, like a queen, wi' her men behind, 
 She has ridden gayly out the way 
 
 She laughed like ony new-made bride, 
 
 When she took fareweel o' her father's towers; 
 
 But the tear, 1 wat, stude in her e'e, 
 
 When she cam' in sicht o* her lover's bowers. 
 
 As she cam' by the Orange gate, 
 Whaten a blythe sicht did she see; 
 
 Her gude lord coming her to meet, 
 And in his hand her bairnies three ! 
 
 " Go fetch to me a pint o' wine, 
 
 That I may drink to my ladie :" 
 She took the cup intill her hand, 
 
 But her bonnie heart it brak' in three. 
 
 [First published in Scott's Minstrelsy.—" Jel 
 Ion," says Sir Waltjr, " seems to be the same 
 name with Jyllian or Julian. ' Jyl of Brentford's 
 Testament' is mentioned in Warton's History of 
 Poetry, Vol. II. p. 40. The name repeatedly 
 
 occurs in old ballads, sometimes as that of a 
 man, at other times as that of a woman. Of the 
 former is an instance in the ballad of ' The 
 Knight and the Shepherd's Daughter." — Re- 
 liques of Ancient Poetry, Vol. III. 72:— 
 
 Some do call 
 
 "Witton Gilbert, a village four miles west 
 of Durham, is, throughout the bishopric, pro- 
 nounced Witton Jilbert. We have also the 
 common name of Giles, always in Scotland pro- 
 nounced Jill. For Gille, or Juliana, as a female 
 name, we have Fair Gillian of Croyden, and a 
 thousand authorities."] 
 
 O Jellon Grame sat in Silverwood,* 
 He sharped his broad sword Iang ; 
 
 And he has called his little foot-page 
 An errand for to gang. 
 
 " Win up, my bonnie boy," he says, 
 
 " As quickly as ye may ; 
 For ye maun gang for Lillie Flower 
 
 Before the break of day. 
 
 The boy has buckled his belt about, 
 And through the green -wood ran ; 
 
 And he came to the ladye's bower 
 Before the day did dawn. 
 
 " O sleep ye, wake ye, Lillie Flower ? 
 
 The red sun's on the rain ; 
 Ye're bidden come to Silverwood, 
 
 But I doubt ye'll ne'er win name." 
 
 She hadna ridden a mile, a mile, 
 
 A mile but barely three, 
 Ere she came to a new-made grave. 
 
 Beneath a green aik tree. 
 
 then up started Jellon Grame, 
 
 Out of a bush thereby ; 
 " Light down, light down, now, Lillie Flower 
 
 For it's here that ye maun lye." 
 
 * Silverwood, mentioned in this ballad, occurs 
 in a medley MS. song, which seems to have been 
 copied from the first edition of the Aberdeen 
 cantus, penes John G. Dalyell, Esq. advocate. 
 One line only is cited, apparently the beginning 
 of some song : — 
 
 Silverwood, giu ye were mine.— Scott. 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 197 
 
 felie lighted aff her milk-white steed. 
 
 And kneel'd upon her knee ; 
 " O mercy, mercy, Jellon Grame, 
 
 For I'm no prepared to dee! 
 
 " Your bairn, that stirs between my sides, 
 
 Maun shortly see the light ; 
 But to see it weltering in my blood, 
 
 Would be a piteous sight." 
 
 " O should I spare your life," he says, 
 " Until that bairn were born, 
 
 Full weel I ken your auld father 
 Would hang me on the morn." 
 
 " O spare my life, now, Jellon Grame ! 
 
 My father ye needna dread ; 
 I'll keep my babe in gude green-wood, 
 
 Or wi' it I'll beg my bread." 
 
 He took no pity on Lillie Flower, 
 Though she for her life did pray ; 
 
 But pierced her through the fair body 
 As at his feet she lay. 
 
 He felt nae pity for Lillie Flower, 
 
 Where she was lying dead ; 
 But he felt some for the bonnie bairn, 
 
 That lay weltering in her bluid. 
 
 Up has he ta'en that bonnie boy, 
 
 Given him to nurses nine ; 
 Three to sleep, and three to wake, 
 
 And three to go between. 
 
 And he bred up that bonnie boy, 
 
 Called him his sister's son : 
 And he thought no eye could ever see 
 
 The deed that he had done. 
 
 O so it fell upon a day, 
 
 When hunting they might be, 
 
 They rested then in Silvervvood, 
 Beneath that green aik tree. 
 
 And many were the green-wood flowers 
 
 Upon the grave that grew, 
 And marvel] 'd much that bonnie boy 
 
 To see their lovely hue. 
 
 " What's paler than the prymrose wan ? 
 
 What's redder than the rose? 
 Wbat's fairer than the lilye flower 
 
 On this wee know that grows?" 
 
 O out and answered Jellon Grame, 
 
 And he spak' hastilie— 
 " Your mother was a fairer flower, 
 
 And lies beneath this tree. 
 
 " More pale she was, when she sought my grace, 
 
 Than prymrose pale and wan ; 
 And redder than rose her ruddy heart's blood, 
 
 That down my broad sword ran." 
 
 Wi' that the boy has bent his bow, 
 
 It was baith stout and lang ; 
 And through and through him Jellon Grame, 
 
 He gar'd an arrow gang. 
 
 Says, — " Lie ye there, now, Jellon Grame ! 
 
 My malisoun gang you wi' ! 
 The place that my mother lies buried in 
 
 Is far too good for thee." 
 
 [Communicated to the Border Minstrelsy by 
 Mr Kirkpatrick Sharpe of Hoddom, who men- 
 tions having copied it from an old magazine. 
 " Although it has probably received some mo- 
 dern corrections," says Sir Walter Scott, " the 
 general turn seems to be ancient, and corre> 
 sponds with that of a fragment, containing the 
 following verses, which I have often heard sung 
 in my childhood : 
 
 She set her back against a thorn, 
 
 And there she has her young son born; 
 
 " O smile nae sae, my bonnie babe ! 
 
 An ye smile sae sweet, ye'll smile me dead." 
 
 An' when that lady wen 
 She spied a naked boy i 
 
 to the church, 
 the porch. 
 
 " O bonnie hoy, an' ye were mine, 
 I'd clead ye in the silks sae fine." 
 " O mither dear, when I was thine, 
 To me ye were na half sae kind." 
 
 " Stories of this nature are very common in 
 the annals of popular superstition. It is, Cor 
 example, currently believed in Ettrick Forest, 
 that a libertine, who had destroyed fifty-six 
 inhabited houses, in order to throw the posses- 
 & gions of the cottagers into his estate, and who 
 

 
 
 198 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 added, to this injury, that of seducing their^fe "0 I will ha'e the snaw-white boy, 
 
 
 
 daughters, was wont to commit to a carrier in 
 
 The bonniest of the three." 
 
 
 
 the neighbourhood the care of his illegitimate 
 
 " And if I were thine, and in thy propine,* 
 
 
 
 children, shortly after they were born. His 
 
 what wad ye do to me ?" 
 
 
 
 emissary regularly carried them away, but they 
 
 
 
 
 were never again heard of. The unjust and 
 
 " 'Tis I wad dead thee in silk and gowd, 
 
 
 
 cruel gains of the profligate laird were dissipated 
 
 And nourice thee on my knee." 
 
 
 
 by his extravagance, and the ruins of his house 
 
 " mither! mither ! when I was thine, 
 
 
 
 seem to bear witness to the truth of the rhythm- 
 
 Sic kindness I couldna see. 
 
 
 
 ical prophecies denounced against it, and still 
 
 
 
 
 current among the peasantry. He himself died 
 an untimely death ; but the agent of his amours 
 and crimes survived to extreme old age. "When on 
 his death-bed, he seemed much oppressed in mind, 
 and sent for a clergyman to speak peace to his de- 
 
 " Beneath the turf, where now I stand, 
 
 The fause nurse buried me ; 
 The cruel penknife sticks still in my heart, 
 
 And I come not back to thee." 
 
 
 
 parting spirit: but, before the messenger return- 
 
 
 
 
 ed, the man was in his last agony; and the terri- 
 
 
 
 
 
 fied assistants had fled. from his cottage, unani- 
 
 
 
 
 moisly averring, that the wailing of murdered 
 
 
 
 
 infants had ascended from behind his couch, 
 
 ISdmton. 
 
 
 
 and mingled with the groans of the departing 
 
 
 
 
 sinner."] 
 
 [Fbok the Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border— 
 
 
 
 Pair lady Anne sate in her bower, 
 
 "This ballad," says Sir Walter, "is published 
 
 
 
 Down by the greenwood side, 
 
 from the collation of two copies, obtained from 
 
 
 
 And the flowers did spring, and the birds did 
 
 recitation. It Beems to be the rude original, or 
 
 
 
 sing, 
 
 perhaps a corrupted and imperfect copy, of The 
 
 
 
 •Twas the pleasant May-day tide. 
 
 Child of EUe, a beautiful legendary tale, pub- 
 lished in the Reliques of Ancient Poetry. It is 
 
 
 
 But fair lady Anne on Sir William call'd, 
 
 singular, that this charming ballad should have 
 
 
 
 With the tear grit in her e'e, 
 
 been translated, or imitated, by the celebrated 
 
 
 
 "O though thou be fause, may heaven thee 
 
 Burger, without acknowledgment of the English 
 
 
 
 guard, 
 
 original. As The Child of tile avowedly received 
 
 
 
 In the wars ayont the sea!" 
 
 corrections, we may ascribe its greatest beauties 
 to the poetical taste of the ingenious editor. 
 
 
 
 Out of the wood came three bonnie boys, 
 
 They are in the true style of Gothic embellish- 
 
 
 
 Upon the simmer's morn. 
 
 ment. We may compare, for example, the fol- 
 
 
 
 And they did sing, and play at the ba', 
 
 lowing beautiful verse, with the same idea in an 
 
 
 
 As naked as they were born. 
 
 old romance : — 
 
 
 
 " seven lang years wad I sit here, 
 
 The baron stroked hU dark-brown cheek, 
 And turned his face aside, 
 
 
 
 Amang the frost and snaw, 
 
 To wipe away the starting tear 
 
 
 
 A' to ha'e but ane o' these bonnie boys, 
 
 He proudly strove to hide : 
 
 
 
 A playing at the ba'." 
 
 Child of Elle. 
 
 
 
 Then up and spake the eldest boy, 
 
 The heathen Soldan, or Amiral, when about 
 
 
 
 " Now listen thou fair ladie, 
 
 to slay two lovers, relents in a similar manner- 
 
 
 
 And ponder well the read that I tell, 
 
 Weeping, he turned his heued awai, 
 And ius swerde hit fel to g-rounde. 
 
 
 
 Then make ye a choice of the three. 
 
 
 
 
 Florice and Jtfiauncheflour.] 
 
 
 
 " 'Tis I am Peter, and this is Paul, 
 And that ane, sae fair to see, 
 
 
 
 
 
 But a twelve-month sinsyne to paradise came, 
 
 * Propine — Usually gift, but here the power of 
 
 
 
 To join with our companie." < 
 
 ) giving or bestowing. — Scutt. 
 
 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 199 
 
 Erlinton had a fair daughter, \ 
 
 I wat he weird her in a great sin,* 
 
 For he has built a bigly bower, 
 An' a' to put that lady in. 
 
 An' he has warn'd her sisters six, 
 An' sae has he her brethren se'en, 
 
 Outher to watch her a' the night, 
 Or else to seek her morn an' e'en. 
 
 She hadna been i' that bigly bower, 
 
 Na not a night, but barely ane, 
 Till there was Willie, her ain true love, 
 
 Chapp'd at the door, cryin', " Peace 
 within !" 
 
 " O whae is this at my bower door, 
 
 That chaps sae late, or kens the gin ?"f 
 
 " O it is Willie, your ain true love, 
 I pray you rise an' let me in !" 
 
 " But in my bower there is a wake, 
 An' at the wake there is a wane \% 
 
 But I'll come to the green-wood the morn, 
 Whar blooms the brier, by mornin' dawn." 
 
 Then she's gane to her bed again, 
 
 Where she has layen till the cock crew 
 thrice, 
 
 Then she said to her sisters a*, 
 
 " Maidens, 'tis time for us to rise." 
 
 She pat on her back a silken gown, 
 
 An' on her breast a siller pin, 
 An' she's tane a sister in ilka hand, 
 
 An* to the green-wood she is gane. 
 
 She hadna walk'd in the green-wood, 
 
 Na not a mile but barely ane, 
 Till there was Willie, her ain true love, 
 
 Whae frae her sisters has her ta'en. 
 
 He took her sisters by the hand, 
 
 Hekiss'd them baith, an'sent themhame, 
 An" he's ta'en his true love him behind, 
 
 And through the green-wood they are 
 
 * Weird her in a great sin — Placed her in dan- 
 ger of committing a great sin. — Scott. 
 
 f Gin — The slight or trick necessary to open 
 the door; from engine. — Scott. 
 
 $ Wane — A number of people — Scott. 
 
 They hadna ridden in the bonnie green-wood, 
 
 Na not a mile but barely ane, 
 When there came fifteen o' the boldest knights, 
 
 That ever bare flesh, blood, or bane. 
 
 The foremost was an aged knight, 
 He wore the grey hair on his chin, 
 
 Says, " Yield to me thy lady bright, 
 
 An' thou shalt walk the woods within." 
 
 " For me to yield my lady bright 
 
 To such an aged knight as thee, 
 People wad think I war gane mad, 
 
 Or a' the courage flown frae me." 
 
 But up then spake the second knight, 
 I wat he spake right boustouslie, 
 
 " Yield me thy life, or thy lady bright, 
 Or here the tane of us shall die." 
 
 " My lady is my warld's meed : 
 
 My life 1 winna yield to nane; 
 But if ye be men of your manhead, 
 
 Ye'll only fight me ane by ane." 
 
 He lighted aff his milk-white steed, 
 An' gae his lady him by the head, 
 
 Say'n, " See ye dinna change your cheer, 
 Untill ye see my body bleed." 
 
 He set his back unto an aik, 
 
 He set his feet against a stane, 
 An' he has fought these fifteen men, 
 
 An' kill'd them a' but barely ane; 
 For he has left that aged knight, 
 
 An' a' to carry the tidings harue. 
 
 When he gaed to his lady fair, 
 
 I wat he kiss'd her te nderlie ; 
 " Thou art mine ain love, I have thee bought; 
 
 Now we shall walk the green-wood free." 
 
 ¥qto| Ikifie, 
 
 [First published in the Border Minstrelsy.— 
 "In this ballad," says Sir Walter, " the reader 
 will find traces of a singular superstition, not 
 yet altogether discredited in the wilder parts of 
 Scotland. The lykevvake, or watching a dead 
 body, in itself a melancholy office, is rendered, in 
 s; the idea of the assistants, more dismally awful, 
 
200 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 by the mysterious horrors of superstition. In the 5& 
 interval betwixt the death and interment, the 
 disembodied spirit is supposed to hover around 
 its mortal habitation, and, if invoked by certain 
 rites, retains the power of communicating, 
 through its organs, the cause of its dissolution. 
 Such inquiries, however, are always dangerous, 
 and never to be resorted to, unless the deceased 
 is suspected to have suffered foul play, as it is 
 called. It is the more unsafe to tamper with this 
 charm in an unauthorized manner, because the 
 inhabitants of the infernal regions are, at such 
 periods, peculiarly active. One of the most po- 
 tent ceremonies in the charm, for causing the 
 dead body to speak, is, setting the door ajar, or 
 half open. On this account, the peasants of 
 Scotland sedulously avoid leaving the door ajar, 
 while a corpse lies in the house. The door must 
 either be left wide open, or quite shut ; but the 
 first is always preferred, on account of the exer- 
 cise of hospitality usual on such occasions. The 
 attendants must be likewise careful never to 
 leave the corpse for a moment alone, or if it is 
 left alone, to avoid, with a degree of superstitious 
 horror, the first sight of it. The following story, 
 which is frequently related by the peasants of 
 Scotland, will illustrate the imaginary danger of 
 leaving the door ajar. In former times, a man 
 and his wife lived in a solitary cottage, on one of 
 the extensive border fells. One day the husband 
 died suddenly ; and his wife, who was equally 
 afraid of staying alone by the corpse, or leaving 
 the dead body by itself, repeatedly went to the 
 door, and looked anxiously over the lonely moor 
 for the sight of some person approaching. In 
 her confusion and alarm, she accidentally left 
 the door ajar, when the corpse suddenly started 
 up, and sat in the bed, frowning and grinning at 
 her frightfully. She sat alone, crying bitterly, 
 unable to avoid the fascination of the dead man's 
 eye, and too much terrified to break the sullen 
 silence, till a catholic priest, passing over the 
 wild, entered the cottage. He first set the door 
 quite open, then put his little finger in his 
 mouth, and said the paternoster backwards; 
 when the horrid look of the c< rpse relaxed, it 
 fell back on the bed, and behaved itself as a dead 
 man ought to do. 
 
 " Th • ballad is given from tradition. I have 
 been informed by a lady of the highest literary 
 eminence, that she has heard a ballad on the 
 same subject, in which the scene was laid upon 
 the banks of the river Clyde. The chorus 
 was i 
 
 ' O Bothwell banks bloom bonnie,' 
 
 and the watching of the dead corpse was said to 
 have taken place in Bothwell church."] 
 
 Or a" the maids o" fair Scotland, 
 
 The fairest was Marjorie ; 
 And young Benjie was her ae true love, 
 
 And a dear true love was he. 
 
 And wow ! but they were lovers dear, 
 
 And loved fu' constanthe; 
 But ay the mair when they fell out, 
 
 The sairer was their plea.* 
 
 And they ha'e quarrelled on a day, 
 Till Marjorie's heart grew wae; 
 
 And she said she'd chuse another luve, 
 And let young Benjie gae. 
 
 And he was stout.f and proud-hearted, 
 
 And thought o't bitterlie; 
 And he's gane by the wan moon-light, 
 
 To meet his Marjorie. 
 
 " O open, open, my true love, 
 
 O open, and let me in !" 
 " I darena open, young Benjie, 
 
 My three brothers are wit.iin." 
 
 " Ye lied, ye lied, ye bonnie burd, 
 
 Sae loud's 1 hear ye lie ; 
 As I came by the Lowden banks, 
 
 They bade gude e'en to me. 
 
 " But fare ye weel, my ae fause luve, 
 
 That I have loved sae lang ! 
 It sets ye chuse another love, 
 
 And let young Benjie gang." 
 
 Then Marjorie turned her round about, 
 
 The tear blinding her e'e,— 
 " 1 darena, darena, let thee in, 
 
 But I'll come down to thee. ' 
 
 Then saft she smiled, and said to him, 
 
 " O what ill ha'e 1 done ?" 
 He took her in his ani.is twa, 
 
 And threw her o'er the linn. 
 
 * Plea — Used obliquely for dispute. — Scott. 
 t Stout —Through this whole ballad, (unless in 
 in one instance,) signifies haughty. — Scott. 
 

 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 201 
 
 
 The stream was Strang, the maid was stout, 
 
 & " Tie a green gravat round his neck, 
 
 
 And laith laith to be dang, 
 
 And lead him out and in, 
 
 
 But, ere she wan the Lowden banks, 
 
 And the best ae servant about your house 
 
 
 Her fair colour was wan. 
 
 To wait young Benjie on. 
 
 
 Then up bespak' her eldest brother, 
 
 " And aye, at every seven years' end, 
 
 
 " see na ye what I see ?" 
 
 Ye'll tak' him to the linn ; 
 
 
 And out then spak' her second brother, 
 
 For that's the penance he maun drie. 
 
 
 " It's our sister Marjorie !" 
 
 To scug* his deadly sin." 
 
 
 Out then spak* her eldest brother, 
 
 
 
 " how shall we her ken ?" 
 
 
 
 And out then spak' her youngest brother, 
 
 
 
 " There's a honey mark on her chin." 
 
 W&z ©urge of JMog. 
 
 
 Then they've ta'en up. the comely corpse, 
 
 
 
 And laid it on the ground — 
 
 [This was a contribution of J. B. Morritt to 
 
 
 " wha has killed our ae sister, 
 
 the Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border. Mr Mor- 
 
 
 And how can he be found ? 
 
 ritt of Rokeby in Yorkshire, was one of Sir 
 Walter Scott's most valued friends. He died in 
 
 
 " The night it is her low lykewake, 
 
 1843.—" The Castle of Moy is the ancient resi- 
 
 
 The morn her burial day, 
 
 dence of Mackintosh, the chief of the Clan-Chat- 
 
 
 And we maun watch at mirk midnight, 
 
 tan. It is situated among the mountains of 
 
 
 And hear what she will say." 
 
 Inverness-shire, not far from the military road 
 that leads to Inverness. It stands in the hollow 
 
 
 Wi' doors ajar, and candle light, 
 
 of a mountain, on the edge of a small gloomy 
 
 
 And torches burning clear ; 
 
 lake, called Loch Moy, surrounded by a black 
 
 
 The streikit corpse, till still midnight, 
 
 wood of Scotch fir, which extends round the 
 
 
 They waked, but naething hear. 
 
 lake, and terminates in wild heaths, which are 
 unbroken by any other object, as far as the eye 
 
 
 About the middle o' the night, 
 
 can reach. The tale is founded on an ancient 
 
 
 The cocks began to craw ; 
 
 Highland tradition ; that originated in a feud 
 
 
 And at the dead hour o' the night, 
 
 between the clans of Chattan and Grant. A 
 
 
 The corpse began to thraw. 
 
 small rocky island in Loch Moy is still shown, 
 where stood the dungeon in which prisoners 
 
 
 " whae has done the wrang, sister, 
 
 were confined, by the former chiefs of Moy."] 
 
 
 Or dared the deadly sin ? 
 
 
 
 Whae was sae stout, and feared nae dout, 
 
 Loud in the gloomy towers of Moy, 
 
 
 As thraw ye o'er the linn ?" 
 
 The Chattan clan their carol raise.f 
 And far th' ascending flame of joy 
 
 
 " Toung Benjie was the first ae man 
 
 Shoots o'er the loch its trembling blaze. 
 
 
 I laid my love upon ; 
 
 
 
 He was sae stout, and proud -hearted, 
 
 For long within her secret bower. 
 
 
 He threw me o'er the linn." 
 
 In child-bed lay the lady fair, 
 But now is come th' appointed hour, 
 
 
 " Sail we young Benjie head, sister, 
 
 And vassals shout, " An heir ' an heir " 
 
 
 Sail we young Benjie hang, 
 Or sail we pike out his twa gray een, 
 
 
 
 
 And punish him ere he gang H ' 
 
 * Scug — shelter or expiate. — Scott 
 
 t The Chattan clan is a federal clan, consisting 
 
 
 " Te mauna Benjie head, brothers 
 
 of the families of Macintosh, Macpherson, and 
 
 
 Ye mauna Benjie hang, 
 
 some others of less consequence. The chief is the 
 
 
 But ye maun pike out his twa gray een, 
 
 laird of Macintosh; the Chattan country is in the 
 
 
 And punish him ere he gang. ^ 
 
 Finland part of Inverness-shire. — Scott. 
 
 
202 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 And round the fire with many a tale, 
 
 The well-spiced bowl the dames prolong, I 
 
 Save when the chieftains' shouts prevail, 
 Or war's wild chorus swells the song. 
 
 Loud sound the pipes, the dancer's heel 
 Bounds nimbly from the floor of pine, 
 
 When in the light and mazy reel 
 
 Young maids and active soldiers join. 
 
 Late waned the night, the blazing brand 
 More feebly glimmered in the hall, 
 
 Less loudly shout the jovial band, 
 Less lively sounds the pibroch's call.* 
 
 "When from the corner of the hearth, 
 
 A figure crept, of all the train 
 Most alien from a scene of mirth, 
 
 And muttering sigh'd, " 'Tis vain, 'tis 
 vain !" 
 
 Soon ceased the shout, a general thrill 
 Seiz'd every heart ; th' ill omen'd voice 
 
 Seem'd e'en the warrior's breast to chill, 
 Nor dared the trembling sire rejoice. 
 
 He saw a pale and shiv'ring form, 
 By age and frenzy haggard made ; 
 
 Her eyes, still wild with passion's storm, 
 Belied the snows that shroud her head. 
 
 Long had she wander'd on the heath, 
 Or begg'd the lonely trav ler's aid, 
 
 And gossips swear that sudden death 
 Still follow where her footsteps tread. 
 
 Her hut on Badenoch's wildest height, 
 full well the mountain hunter knew, 
 
 Nor paused to take a narrower sight, 
 
 But cursed the witch and quick with- 
 drew. 
 
 Slowly she crawl'd before the throng, 
 Fix'd on the chief her haggard eyes, 
 
 Check'd with a look the minstrel's song, 
 " No more," she cried, " No more rejoice ! 
 
 * The pibroch is a wild music, played by the 
 piper at the assembling of a clan, in marches, &c. 
 Every clan had its own particular tune, which 
 was played most scrupulously and indefatigably 
 on all great and signal occasions. — Scott. 
 
 " To you that o'er your midnight ale 
 Have listened to the tales of glee, 
 
 I come to tell a gossip's tale ; 
 
 Ill-omen'd chieftain ! list to me.'" 
 
 The Witch's Talk. 
 " Full sixty fatal years have roll'd, 
 
 Since clamour shook these gloomy towers; 
 When Moy's black chief, with Urquhart old,f 
 
 Led Grant's and Chattan's mingled powers. 
 
 " Like you their followers shouted brave, 
 Like yours the minstrels answer'd loud, 
 
 Like you they 'gan the dance to weave, 
 And round and round the goblet flow'd 
 
 " In solemn guise the chieftains came, 
 To solemn league the chieftains swore ; 
 
 To quench the death-feud's fatal flame, 
 And dye the heath with blood no more. 
 
 " Fair rose the morn, and Urquhart's pow'rs 
 To Moray's hostile border flew,| 
 
 But ling'ring in the Chattan tow'rs, 
 The aged chief the last withdrew. 
 
 " Homewards he turned, some younger arm 
 Shall lead the war on the banks of Spey ; 
 
 But sharp was the sleet, and cold the storm, 
 That whistled at eve in his locks so gray. 
 
 " With him went Alva's heir, who stay'd,§ 
 The chieftain's weal or woe to share ; 
 
 f Grant, the laird of Urquhart, was the chief 
 of the clan of Grant; his castle of Urquhart, 
 now in ruins, covers one of the most beautiful of 
 the craggy promontories that adorn Loch Ness. 
 The delightful vale of Glen Urquhart is embo- 
 somed in the mountains behind it. The posses- 
 sions of the clan in the southern part of Inver- 
 ness-shire, border on those of the clan Chattan, 
 with whom, of course, they were continually at 
 variance. — Scott. 
 
 $ The Lowland district of Moray, or Elgin- 
 shire, along the banks of the Spey, being com- 
 paratively fertile and civilized, and in the imme- 
 diate vicinity of the Grampians, was long expos- 
 ed to the ravages and inroads of the Highland 
 clans, who possessed the mountains on the 
 border, and the upper part of Strathspey. — Scott. 
 
 § Alva is an ancient possession of a chieftain of 
 the family of Grant.— Scott. 
 
.... 
 
 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 203 
 
 
 So Urquhart's trembling daughter pray'd, sfe " Beneath his darken'd brow, the smile 
 
 
 
 So AlTa vow'd, who loved her dear. 
 
 Of pleas'd revenge with hatred strove, 
 And he thought of the hours, perchance, the 
 
 
 
 " But drear was Badenoch's wintry waste, 
 
 while 
 
 
 
 And mirk the night that round them fell, 
 
 When she slighted hia threats, and scorn'd 
 
 
 
 As over their heads the night -raven past, 
 
 his love. 
 
 
 
 And they enter'd Glen iral's darkling dell.* 
 
 " And thus he spoke, with trait'roua voice, 
 
 
 
 " The raven seream'd, and a slogan yell 
 
 ' Oh! not in vain can Margaret plead; 
 
 
 
 Burst from Glen Iral's sable wood, 
 
 One life I spare — be her's the choice, 
 
 
 
 They heard in the gale a bugle swell, 
 
 And one for my clan and my kin shall bleed. 
 
 
 
 They saw in the shade a man of blood. 
 
 " ' Oh will she not a lover save, 
 
 
 
 " Grimly he points, and a hundred hands 
 
 But dash his hopes of mutual joy, 
 
 
 
 Their horses seize ; in that fatal hour, 
 
 And doom the brave to the silent grave, 
 
 
 
 Unarm'd, defenceless, Urquhart stands, 
 
 To ransom a sire from the sword of Moy ? 
 
 
 
 But Alva has drawn his broad claymore. 
 
 " ' Or will she not a father spare, 
 
 
 
 " ' Stand fast, Craig-Ellachie,' he cried,f 
 
 But here his last spark of life destroy, 
 
 
 
 As his stalwart stroke the foremost slew; 
 
 And will she abandon his silvery hair, 
 
 
 
 Alas ! no friendly voice replied, 
 
 And wed her love in the halls of Moy ?' 
 
 
 
 But the broad claymore in fragments flew. 
 
 "Oh have you seen the shepherd swain, 
 
 
 
 " And sad was the heart of Alva's heir, 
 
 While heav'n is calm on the hills around, 
 
 
 
 And he thought of Urquhart's scenes of joy, 
 
 And swelling in old Co.nri's plain, ^ 
 
 
 
 When instead of her Bmile that he loved so 
 dear, 
 He met the haughty scowl of Moy. 
 
 Earth shakes, and thunders burst the ground ; 
 
 
 
 " Like him aghast did Marg ret stand, 
 
 
 
 
 Wild start her eyes from her burning head, 
 
 
 
 " And far across the wintry waste, 
 
 Nor stirs her foot, nor lifts her hand ; 
 
 1 
 
 
 And far from Marg'ret's bow'r of joy, 
 
 The chastisement of heaven is sped. 
 
 
 
 In silent haste, and in chains they past, 
 
 
 
 
 To groan and despair in the towers of Moy. 
 
 "Long mute she stands, when before her eyes, 
 From the dungeon's cave, from the gloomy 
 
 
 
 " On yonder rock their prison stood, 
 
 In the mournful wood two furms arise, [lake, 
 
 
 
 Deep in the dungeon's vault beneath, 
 
 And she of the two her choice must make. 
 
 
 
 The pavement still wet with the rising flood, 
 
 
 
 
 And heavy, and dank, is the fog they breathe. 
 
 " And wildly she sought her lover's breast, 
 And madly she kiss'd his clanking chain ; 
 
 
 
 " Three days were past^-with streaming eye, 
 
 ' Home, home,' she cried, ' be my sire releas'd, 
 
 
 
 "With bursting heart, and falt'ring breath, 
 
 While Alva and I in the grave remain. 
 
 
 
 "What maiden sues at the feet of Moy, 
 
 
 
 
 To save their life, or to share their death ? 
 
 " 'And my father will rest, and our name be blest, 
 "When Moy 's vile limbs shall be strew'd on 
 
 
 
 " *Tis Marg'ret ; in whose heart the tale 
 
 the shore ; 
 
 
 
 Had waken'd the first sad sigh of grief, 
 
 The pine tree shall wave o'er our peaceful grave, 
 
 
 
 And wan and pale from Urquhart's vale, 
 
 Till together we wake to weep no more.* 
 
 
 
 She flew to the tow'r of the gloomy chief. 
 
 
 
 sembling of the clan of Grant, was also the slo- 
 
 
 
 * The Iral is a small stream that rises in the 
 
 gan or war-cry of the clan. — Scott. 
 
 
 
 Chattan country, and falls into the river of 
 
 i The vale of Comri, in Perthshire, whore 
 
 
 
 Nairn, between Moy and Loch Ness. — Scolt. 
 
 earthquakes are still frequently felt, is in the 
 
 
 
 f Craig-Ellachie, where was the place of as- ^ 
 
 |4 higher part of Strathearn, near Crieff.— Scott. 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 204 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 " The tear from Urquhart's eye that stole, 4k " She sigh'd not as she turned away,— 
 
 
 
 As rung in his ear his daughter's cry, 
 
 No tear-drop fell from her frozen eye ; 
 
 
 
 Ceased on his furrow'd cheek to roll, [Moy. 
 
 But a night and a day, by their side did stay, 
 
 
 
 When he mark'd the scorn of the gloomy 
 
 In stupid speechless agony. 
 
 
 
 " And stately rose his stiffen'd form, 
 
 "And another she staid, and a cairn she made,* 
 
 
 
 And seemed to throw off the load of age, 
 
 And piled it high, with many a groan ; 
 
 
 
 As gather'd in his eye the storm 
 
 As it rises white, on Badenoch's height, 
 
 
 
 Of feudal bate, and a chieftain's rage. 
 
 She mutters a prayer over every stone. 
 
 
 
 •"False traitor! though thy greedy ear 
 
 "She pray'd, that, childless and forlorn 
 
 
 
 Hath drunk the groan of an enemy, 
 
 The chief of Moy might pine away : 
 
 
 
 Yet inly rankle shame and fear, 
 
 That the sleepless night, and the careful morn, 
 
 
 
 While rapture and triumph smile on me. 
 
 Might wither his limbs in slow decay ; 
 
 
 
 " 'And thou, my best, my sorrowing child, 
 
 " That never the son of a chief of Moy 
 
 
 
 Whate'er my fate, thy choice recall ! 
 
 Might live to protect his father's age, 
 
 
 
 These towers, with human blood defiled, 
 
 Or close in peace his dying eye, 
 
 
 
 Shall hide my corse, and atone my fall. 
 
 Or gather his gloomy heritage. 
 
 
 
 " ' Why should I live the scorn of slaves ? 
 
 " But, still as they fall, some distant breed, 
 
 
 
 From me no avenger shall I see, 
 
 With sordid hopes, and with marble heart, 
 
 
 
 Where fair Lochness my castle laves, 
 
 By turns to the fatal towers succeed, 
 
 
 
 To lead my clan to victory. ■ 
 
 Extinct by turns to the grave depart. 
 
 
 
 " ' White are my hairs, my course is run, — 
 
 "Then loud did she laugh, for her burning brain 
 
 
 
 To-morrow lays thy father low; 
 
 The soothing showers of grief denied ; 
 
 
 
 But Alva safe, with yonder sun 
 
 And still, when the moon is on the wane, 
 
 
 
 He shall rise in blood on the hills of snow. 
 
 She seeks her hut on the mountain's side. 
 
 
 
 '"If Alva falls, and falls for me, 
 
 " There sits she oft to curse the beam 
 
 
 
 A father's curse is over thy grave; 
 
 That vexes her brain with keener woe ; 
 
 
 
 But safe and free let him wend with thee, 
 
 Full well the shepherd knows her scream, 
 
 
 
 And my dying blessing thou shalt have." 
 
 When he sinks on the moor in the drifted 
 
 
 
 " The maid stood aghast, and her tears fell fast, 
 
 
 
 
 As to ttie wild heath she turn'd to flee ; 
 
 " Seven times has she left her wretched cell 
 
 
 
 * Be Alva sate,' she sigh'd as she past, 
 
 To cheer her sad heart with gloomy joy, 
 
 
 
 ' To Badenoch's height let him follow me.' 
 
 When the fury of heaven, or the blasts of hell, 
 Have wither'd the hopes of the house of Moy. 
 
 
 
 " She sat her down on the blasted heath, 
 
 
 
 
 And hollowly sounded the glen below; 
 
 " And now ! at your feast, an unbidden guest, 
 
 
 
 She heard in the gale the groan of death, 
 
 She bids you the present hour enjoy ; 
 
 
 
 She answered the groan with a shriek of woe. 
 
 For the blast of death is on the heath, 
 
 And the grave yawns wide for the child of 
 
 
 
 " And slowly tow'rds the mountain's head, 
 
 Moy." 
 
 
 
 With a sable bier four ruffians hied ; 
 
 
 
 
 'And here,' they said, ' is thy father dead, 
 
 Here ceased the tale, and with it ceased 
 
 
 
 And thy lover's corse is cold at his side.' 
 
 The revels of the shuddering clan; 
 Despair had seized on every breast, 
 
 
 
 " They laid the bodies on the bent, 
 
 In every vein chill terrors ran. 
 
 
 
 Each in his bloody tartan roll'd; 
 'Now sing Craig-Ellachie's lament, [cold.' 
 
 
 
 
 * A cairn is a heap of loose stones, the usual 
 
 
 
 For her chiefs are dead, and her hopes are < 
 
 A memorial of an ancient burying-place. — Scott. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 205 
 
 To the mountain hut is Marg'ret sped, 
 
 Yet her voice still rings in the ear of Moy ; 
 
 Scarce shone the morn on the mountain's head. 
 When the lady wept o'er her dying boy. 
 
 And long in Moy's devoted tower 
 
 Shall Marg'refs gloomy curse prevail; 
 
 And mothers, in the child-bed hour, 
 
 Shall shudder to think on the witch's tale. 
 
 9xrtgfemtte« 
 
 [The author of this celebrated ballad was 
 Lady Warm-a \v, second daughter of Sir Charles 
 Halket of Pitfirrane, a gentleman of Fife, in 
 Scotland. She was born in 1677, and in 1696 
 was married to Sir Henry Wardlaw, of Balum- 
 lie, or Pitrivie, also in Fife. She died about the 
 year 1727. This lady, who must be allowed to 
 have possessed poetical talents of no common 
 order, considering that she lived at so dark 
 a period in the literary history of Scotland, 
 attempted at first to pass off Hardyknute as a 
 genuine fragment of ancient ballad. She caused 
 her brother-in-law, Sir John Bruce of Kinross, 
 to communicate the MS. to Lord Binning, (son 
 of the poetical Earl of Haddington, and himself 
 a poet,) with the following account: " In perfor- 
 mance of my promise, 1 send you a true copy of 
 the manuscript I found, a few weeks ago, in an 
 old vault at Dunfermline. It is written on vel- 
 lum, in a fair Gothic character, but so much de- 
 faced by time, as you will find, that the tenth 
 part is not legible." The ballad was first pub- 
 lished in 1719, by some literary gentlemen, who 
 believed it to be what the authoress pretended; 
 and it was afterwards admitted by Ramsay into 
 the Evergreen, as a composition of the antique 
 nature proper to that collection. For many 
 years, it was generally received as a genuine old 
 ballad ; nor does any one ever seem to have 
 questioned its pretensions to that character. 
 Dr Percy at length, in his Reliques, published in 
 1755, disclosed the real fact of its authorship, 
 which has latterly been confirmed beyond a 
 doubt by other writers. Mr Hepburn of Keith, 
 a gentleman well known in the early part of the 
 last century for high honour and probity of cha- 
 racter oftei. declared that he was in the house 
 with Lady Wardlaw at the time she wrote the 
 
 i ballad ; and Mrs "Wedderburn of Gosford, Lady 
 Wardlaw's daughter, and Mrs Menzies of 
 Woodend, her sister-in-law, used to be equally 
 positive as to the fact. See Chalmers' edition of 
 Ramsay's Works, London, 1800.— Chambers. 
 
 The historical events upon which the ballad 
 is founded are the following.— In 1263, Haco, 
 king of Norway or Denmark, under pretence 
 that Arran and the islands adjacent formed 
 part of the Western Isles, then subject to him, 
 fitted out a large armament, with which he 
 overran Kintire and the islands in dispute. 
 Elated with success, he determined on pursuing 
 j his predatory enterprise still farther, and with 
 | this view came to anchor with his fleet at the 
 ; Cumbras, whence he sent a detachment up the 
 i Clyde, which plundered the islands in Loch 
 Lomond, at that time very populous. But 
 | before he had sufficient time to carry his other 
 ! plans into effect, a storm arose in which several 
 j of his ships were driven on shore near Largs, 
 I where the Scotch army had collected, and was 
 ] watching his motions. Those vessels which ran 
 I aground were immediately attacked by the 
 j Scots, and obstinately defended by the Norwe- 
 gians, who being successively reinforced from 
 their fleet, remained onshore all night; next 
 morning (2d October) Haco landed with a nume- 
 rous body of troops, — was again attacked by the 
 Scots, and, after a desperate conflict, finally 
 routed and driven to his ships, with the loss of 
 sixteen thousand men, according to Buchanan 
 and other Scotch writers, but of only about six 
 hundred according to an ancient manuscript 
 account of the expedition in the library of the 
 king of Denmark. — That the loss on the part of 
 the Norwegians is greatly under-rated in this 
 account, is evident from the course which Haco 
 found it necessary to follow a few days after the 
 battle, for, notwithstanding his having been 
 joined by the detachment from Loch Lomond, 
 he withdrew with his fleet to Arran, which with 
 the other islands that he had pillaged, he shortly 
 after abandoned.] 
 
 Stately stept he east the wa', 
 
 And stately stept he west; 
 Full seventy yiers he now had sene, 
 
 With skerss seven yiers of rest. 
 
 He livit quhen Britons breach of faith 
 Wrought Scotland meikle wae; 
 
 And ay his sword tauld, to their cost, 
 He was their deadly fae. 
 

 
 
 
 206 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 Hie on a hill his castle stude, I 
 
 With halls and towirs a-hicht, 
 And guidly chambers fair to see, 
 
 Quhair he lodgit mony a knicht. 
 
 ^ The little page flew swift as dart 
 Flung by his master's arm, 
 " Cum down, cum down, Lord Hardyknute, 
 And red your king frae harm." 
 
 
 
 His dame sae pierless anes and fair, 
 For chast and bewtie deimt, 
 
 Nae marrow had in all the land, 
 Saif Elenor the quene. 
 
 Then reid, reid grew his dark-brown chieks, 
 
 Sae did his dark-brown brow ; 
 His luiks grew kene as they were wont 
 
 In dangers great to do. 
 
 
 
 Full thirtein sons to him scho bare, 
 
 All men of valour stout, 
 In bluidy ficht, with sword in hand, 
 
 Nyne lost their lives hot doubt; 
 
 He hes tane a horn as grene as grass, 
 And gi'en five sounds sae shrill, 
 
 That trees in grene-wood schuke thereat, 
 Sae loud rang ilka hill. 
 
 
 
 Four yit remain, lang may they live 
 
 To stand by liege and land; 
 Hie was their fame, hie was their micht, 
 
 And hie was their command. 
 
 His sons, in manly sport and glie, 
 Had past that summer's morn, 
 
 Quhen low doun in a grassy dale, 
 They heard their fatheris horn. 
 
 
 
 Great luve they bare to Fairly fair, 
 Their sister saft and deir ; 
 
 Her girdle shavv'd her middle jimp, 
 And gowden glist her hair. 
 
 " That horn," quod they, "neir sounds in 
 We haif other sport to byde ; " [peace, 
 
 And sune they heyd them up the hill, 
 And sune were at his syde. 
 
 
 
 Quhat waefou wae her bewtie bred ! 
 
 Waefou to young and auld ; 
 Wav fou, 1 trou, to kyth and kin, 
 
 As story ever tauld. 
 
 "Late, late yestrene, I weind in peace 
 To end my lengthened lyfe, 
 
 My age rnicht weil excuse my arm 
 Frae manly feats of stryfe- 
 
 
 
 The king of Norse, in summer tyde, 
 Fuft up with powir and micht, 
 
 Landed in lair Scotland the yle 
 "With mony a hardy knicht. 
 
 " But now that Norse dois proudly boast 
 
 Fair Scotland to in thrall, 
 Its neir be said of Hardyknute, 
 
 He feired to ficht or fall. 
 
 
 
 The tydings to our gude Scots king 
 
 Came as he sat at dyne, 
 With noble chiefs in braif aray, 
 
 Drinking the blude-reid wyne. 
 
 " Robin of Rothsay, bend thy bow, 
 Thy arrows schute sae leii, 
 
 That mony a comely countenance 
 They've turned to deidly pale. 
 
 
 
 " To horse, to horse, my royal liege, 
 Your faes stand on the strand ; 
 
 Full twenty thousand glittering spears 
 The king of Norse commands." 
 
 " Brade Thomas, tak' ye but your lance, 
 
 Ye neid nae weapons mair, 
 Gif ye ficht wi't as ye did anes 
 
 'Gainst Westmoreland's ferss heir. 
 
 
 
 " Bring me my steed, Mage, dapple gray," 
 Our guile king raise and cryd; 
 
 A trustier beast in all the land, 
 A Scots king never seyd. 
 
 " Malcorn, licht of foot as stag 
 That runs in forest wyld, 
 
 Get me my thousands thrie of men, 
 Well bred to sword and schield : 
 
 
 
 " Go, little page, tell Hardyknute, 
 
 That lives on hill so hie, 
 To draw his sword, the dried of faes, 
 
 And haste and follow me." 
 
 " Bring me my horse and harnisine, 
 
 My blade of mettal cleir;" 
 If faes kend but the hand it bare, 
 £ They sune had fled for feir. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 207 
 
 " Fareweil, my dame, sae peirless gude," 
 
 And tuke her by the hand, 
 " Fairer to me in age you seim, 
 
 Than maids for bewtie fam'd : 
 
 " My youngest son sail here remain, 
 
 To guard these stately towirs, 
 And 6hut the silver bolt that keips 
 
 Sae fast your painted bowirs." 
 
 And first scho wet her comely chieks, 
 
 And then hir bodice grene ; 
 Her silken cords of twirtle twist 
 
 Weil plett with silver schene ; 
 
 And apron set with mony a dice 
 
 Of neidle-wark sae rare, 
 Wove by nae hand, as ye may guess, 
 
 Saif that of Fairly fair. 
 
 And he has ridden owre muir and moss, 
 
 Owre hills and mony a glen, 
 Quhen he cam' to a wounded knicht, 
 
 Making a heavy mane :— 
 
 " Here maun I lye, here maun I die, 
 ' By treachery's false gyles; 
 Witless I was that eir gaif faith 
 To wicked woman's smyles." 
 
 " Sir knicht, gin ye were in my bowir, 
 
 To lean on silken seat, 
 My ladyis kyndlie care you'd prove, 
 
 Quha neir kend deidly hate : 
 
 " Hir self wald watch ye all the day, 
 
 Hir maids at deid of nicht ; 
 And Fairly fair your heart wald cheir, 
 
 As scho stands in your sicht. 
 
 " A rise, young knicht, and mount your steid, 
 
 Full lown's the schynand day; 
 Cheis frae my nenyie quhom ye pleis, 
 
 To leid ye on the way." 
 
 With smyless luke, and visage wan, 
 
 The wounded knicht reply'd, 
 "Kind chiftain, your intent pursue, 
 
 For here 1 maun abyde. 
 
 " To me nae after day nor nicht 
 
 Can eir be 6weit or fair, 
 But sune beneath sum draping trie 
 
 Cauld death sail end my care.' «£ 
 
 With him nae pleiding micht prevail; 
 
 Braif Hardyknute to gain, 
 With fairest words and reason Strang, 
 
 Straif courteously in vain. 
 
 Syne he has gaue far hynd attowre 
 Lord Chattan's land sae wyde ; 
 
 That lord a worthy wicht was ay, 
 Quhen faes his courage seyd : 
 
 Of Pictish race, by mother's syde ; 
 
 Quhen Picts ruled Caledon, 
 Lord Chattan claim'd the princely maid 
 
 Quhen he saift Pictish crown. 
 
 Now with his ferss and stalwart train 
 
 He reicht a rysing heicht, 
 Quhair, braid encampit on the dale, 
 
 Norse menyie lay in sicht : 
 
 " Yonder, my valiant sons, and feris, 
 
 Our raging revers wait, 
 On the unconquerit Scotish swaird, 
 
 To try with us thair fate. 
 
 " Mak' orisons to Him that saift 
 
 Our sauls upon the rude;* 
 Syne braifly schaw your veins are fill'd 
 
 With Caledonian blude." 
 
 Then furth he drew his trusty glaive, 
 
 Quhyle thousands all around, 
 Drawn frae their sheaths glanst in the sun, 
 
 And loud the bougills sound. 
 
 To join his king, adoun the hill 
 
 In haste his march he made, 
 Quhyle playand pibrochs minstralls meit 
 
 Afore him stately strade. 
 
 " Thryse welcum, valyiant stoup of weir, 
 Thy nation's scheild and pryde, 
 
 Thy king nae reason has to feir, 
 Quhen thou art be his syde." 
 
 Quhen bows were bent and darts were 
 thrawn, 
 
 For thrang scarce could they flie, 
 The darts clove arrows as they met, 
 
 The arrows dart the trie. 
 
 Rude — the Cross. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 208 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 Lang did they rage, and fecht full ferss, ^fe " Take, Norse, that gift frae me, and bid 
 
 
 
 With little skaith to man ; 
 
 Him 'venge the blude it beirs, 
 
 
 
 But bludy, bludy was the field 
 
 Say, if he face my bended bow- 
 
 
 
 Or that lang day was done ! 
 
 He sure nae weapon feirs." 
 
 
 
 The king of Scots that sindle* bruik'd 
 
 Proud Norse with giant body tall, 
 
 
 
 The war that lukit lyke play, 
 
 Braid shoulder, and arms strong, 
 
 
 
 Drew his braid sword, and brake his bow, 
 
 Cry'd, " Quhair is Hardyknute sae fam'd, 
 
 
 
 Sen bows seimt but delay. 
 
 And feird at Britain's throne ? 
 
 
 
 Quoth noble Rothsay, " Myne I'll keip, 
 
 " Though Britons tremble at his name, 
 
 
 
 I wate its bleid a skore." 
 
 I sune sail mak' him wail, 
 
 
 
 " Haste up my merry men," cry'd the king, 
 
 That eir my sword was made sae sharp, 
 
 
 
 As he rade on before. 
 
 Sae saft his coat of mail." 
 
 
 
 The king of Norse he socht to find, 
 
 That brag his stout heart couldna byde, 
 
 
 
 With him to mense the faucht ;f 
 
 It lent him youthfou micht: 
 
 
 
 But on his forehead there did licht 
 
 "I'm Hardyknute. This day,'' he cry'd, 
 
 
 
 A sharp unsonsie shaft; 
 
 " To Scotland's king 1 hecht§ 
 
 
 
 As he his hand put up to find 
 
 The wound, an arrow kene, 
 waefou chance ! there pinn'd his hand 
 
 In midst betwene his een. 
 
 " To lay thee law as horse's hufe, 
 My word I mean to keep." 
 
 Syne with the first strake eir he strak 
 He garr'd his body bleid. 
 
 
 
 " Revenge ! revenge !" cried Rothsay's heir, 
 
 
 
 
 " Your mail-coat sail nocht byde 
 
 Norse ene lyke gray gosehauk's staird wyld, 
 
 
 
 The- strength and sharpness of my dart," 
 
 He sicht with shame and spyte ; 
 
 
 
 Then sent it through his syde. 
 
 " Disgrac'd is now my far-fam'd arm 
 That left thee power to stryke." 
 
 
 
 Another arrow weil he mark'd, 
 
 
 
 
 It persit his neck in twa ; 
 
 Then gaif his head a blaw sae fell, 
 
 
 
 His hands then quat the silver reins, 
 
 It made him doun to stoup, 
 
 
 
 He law as eard did fa'. 
 
 As law as he to ladies usit, 
 In courtly gyse to lout. 
 
 
 
 " Sair bleids my liege ! sair, sair he bleids I" 
 
 
 
 
 Again with micht he drew, 
 
 Full sune he rais'd his bent body ; 
 
 
 
 And gesture dreid, his sturdy bow; 
 
 His bow he marvell'd sair, 
 
 
 
 Fast the braid arrow flew : 
 
 Sen blaws till then on him but darr'd 
 As touch of Fairly fair. 
 
 
 
 Wae to the knicht he ettled at; 
 
 
 
 
 Lament now quene Elgreid; 
 
 Norse ferlietU too as sair as he, 
 
 
 
 Hie dames to wail your darling's fall, 
 
 To see his stately luke ; 
 
 
 
 His youth and comely meid. 
 
 Sae sune as eir he strake a fae, 
 Sae sune his lyfe he tuke. 
 
 
 
 " Take aft, take aff his costly jupe,":j: 
 
 
 
 
 (Of gold weil was it twynd, 
 
 Quhair, lyke a fyre to hether set, 
 
 
 
 Knit like the fowler's net, thruuch quhilk 
 
 Bauld Thomas did advance, 
 
 
 
 His steily harnes shynd.) 
 
 A sturdy fae, with luke enrag'd, 
 Up towards him did prance : 
 
 
 * Seldom. f Try the fight. 
 
 •© 
 
 
 i Military vest. < 
 
 6 § Promised. || Wondered. 
 
 
 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 209 
 
 He spur'd his steid throw thickest ranks 
 
 The hardy youth to quell, 
 Quha stude unmuvit at his approach, 
 
 His furie to repell. 
 
 " That schort brown shaft, sae meanly 
 trim'd, 
 
 Lukis lyke poor Scotland's geir; 
 But dreidfull seinis the rusty poynt '." 
 
 And loud he leuch in jeir. 
 
 " Aft Britons blude has dim'd its shyne, 
 This poynt cut short their vaunt;" 
 
 Syne pierc'd the boisteris bairded cheik, 
 Nae tyme he tuke to taunt. 
 
 Schort quhyle he in his sadill swang; 
 
 His stirrip was nae stay, 
 Sae feible hang his unbent knie, 
 
 Sure taken he was fey. 
 
 Swith on the harden'd clay he fell, 
 
 Eicht far was heard the thud, 
 But Thomas luikt not as he lay 
 
 All waltering in his blude. 
 
 With cairles gesture, mind unmuvit, 
 
 On raid he north the plain, 
 He seimt in thrang of fiercest stryfe, 
 
 Quhen winner ay the same. 
 
 Nor yit his heart dames' dimpelit cheik 
 Coud meise* safe luve to bruik; 
 
 Till vengeful Ann returned his scorn, 
 Then languid grew his luke. 
 
 In thrawis of death, with wallowit cheik, 
 
 AH panting on the plain, 
 The fainting corps of warriours lay, 
 
 'Neir to aryse again : 
 
 Neir to return to native land ; 
 
 Nae mair with blythsom sounds 
 To boist the glories of the, day, 
 
 And schaw their sliyning wounds. 
 
 On Norway's coast the widowit dame 
 
 May wash the rocks with teirs, 
 May lang luke owre the schiples seis 
 
 Befoir hir mate appeirs. 
 
 Ceise, Emma, ceise to hope in vain, 
 
 Thy lord lyis in the clay ; 
 The valyiant Scots nae revers tholef 
 
 To carry lyfe away 
 
 There on a lie, quhair stands a cross 
 
 Set up for monument, 
 Thousands full fierce, that summer's day, 
 
 Fill'd kene waris black intent. 
 
 Let Scots, quhyle Scots, praise Hardyknute, 
 Let Norse the name aye dried ; 
 
 Ay how he faucht, aft how he spaird, 
 Sal latest ages reid. 
 
 Full loud and chill blew westlin' wind, 
 
 Sair beat the heavy showir, 
 Mirk grew the nicht eir Hardyknute 
 
 "Wan neir his stately towir: 
 
 His towir that us'd with torches bleise 
 
 To shyne sae far at nicht, 
 Seim'd now as black as mourning weid; 
 
 Nae marvel sair he sich'd. 
 
 " Thair's nae licht in my lady's bowir, 
 
 Thair's nae licht in my hall ; 
 Nae blink shynes round my Fairly fair, 
 
 Nor ward stands on my wall. 
 
 " Quhat bodes it ? Robert, Thomas, say! 
 
 Nae answer fits their dreid. 
 " Stand back my sons, I'll be your gyde ; ' 
 
 But by they past with speid. 
 
 "As fast I've sped owre Scotland's faes"- 
 
 Theie ceist his brag of weir, 
 Sair schamit to myud ocht but his dame, 
 
 And maiden Fairly fair. 
 
 Black feir he felt, but quhat to feir, 
 
 He wist not yit with dreid: 
 Sair schuke his body, sair his limbs, 
 
 And all the warrior fled. 
 
 t Suffer. 
 
210 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 W&t UmI of 32fti!)art<m auto 
 Jgtuart. 
 
 [From Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border.— 
 "Duels," says Sir Walter Scott, "are derived 
 from the times of chivalry. They succeeded to 
 the combat at outrance, about the end of the six- 
 teenth century ; and, though they were no longer 
 countenanced by the laws, nor considered a 
 solemn appeal to the Deity, nor honoured by the 
 presence of applauding monarchs and multi- 
 tudes, yet they were authorised by the manners 
 of the age, and by the applause of the fair.' 
 They long continued, they even yet continue, to 
 be appealed to, as the test of trutli ; since, by 
 the code of honour, every gentleman is still 
 hound to repel a charge of falsehood with the 
 point of his sword, and at the peril of his life. 
 Tris peculiarity of manners, which would have 
 surprised an ancient Roman, is obviously de- 
 duced from the Gothic ordeal of trial by combat. 
 Nevertheless, the custom of duelling was consi- 
 dered, at its first introduction, as an innovation 
 upon the law of arms ; and a book, in two huge 
 volumes, entituled, Le vrai Theatre d' Honneur 
 et de la Chi valeric, was written by a French 
 nobleman, to support the venerable institutions 
 
 • "All things heing ready for the hall, and every one 
 being in their place, and 1 myself being next to the 
 queen (of Fiance) expecting when the dancers would 
 come in, one knockt at the door somewhat louder than 
 became, as I thought, a very civil person. When he 
 came in, I remember there was a sudden whisper 
 among the ladies, saying, ' C'est Monsieur Balagny,' 
 or, 'tis Monsieur Balagny ; whereupon, also, 1 saw 
 the ladies and gentlewomen, one after another, invite 
 him to sit near them ; and, which is more, when one 
 lady had his company a while, another would say, 'you 
 have enjoyed him long enough ; I must have him 
 now ;' at which bold civility of theirs, though I were 
 astonished, yet it added unto my wonder, that his 
 person could not be thought, at most, but ordinary 
 handsome : his hair, which was cut very short, half 
 grey, his doublet but of sackcloth, cut to his shirt, and 
 his breeches only of plain grey cloth. Informing my- 
 self of some standers-by who he was, 1 was told he 
 was one of the gallantest men in the world, as having 
 killed eight or nine men in single fight: and that, for 
 this reason, the ladies made so much of him : it being 
 the manner of all French women to cherish gallant 
 men, as thinking they could not make so much of any 
 one else, with the safety of their honour.' — Life of 
 Lord Herbert of Cherburj , p. 70. How near the char- 
 
 {&ot chivalry against this unceremonious mode of 
 | combat. He has chosen for his frontispiece two 
 figures; the first represents a conquering knight, 
 trampling his enemy under foot in the lists, 
 crowned by Justice with laurel, and preceded by 
 Fame, sounding his praises. The other figure 
 presents a duellist, in his shirt, as was then the 
 fashion, (see the following ballad,) with his 
 bloody rapier in his hand : the slaughtered com- 
 batant is seen in the distance, and the victor is 
 pursued by the Furies. Kevtrtheless, the wise 
 , will make some scruple, whether, if the warriors 
 J -were to change equipments, they might not also 
 I exchange their emblematic attendants. The 
 modern mode of duel without defensive armour, 
 j began about the reign of Henry III. of France, 
 i when the gentlemen of that nation, as we learn 
 j from Davila, began to lay aside the cumbrous 
 I lance and cuirass, even in war. The increase of 
 danger being supposed to contribute to the in- 
 I crease of honour, the national ardour of the 
 ■ French gallants led then early to distinguish 
 j themselves by neglect of every thing that could 
 ! contribute to their personal safety. Hence, duels 
 began to be fought by the combatants in their 
 shirts, and with the rapier only. To this custom 
 contributed also the art of fencing, then culti- 
 vated as a new study in Italy and Spain, by 
 which the sword became, at once, an offensive 
 and defensive weapon. The reader will see the 
 new • science of defence,' as it was called, ridi- 
 culed by Shakspeare, in Romeo and Juliet, and 
 
 acter of the duellist, originally, approached to that of 
 the knight-errant, appears from a transaction, which 
 took place at the siege of Juliet's, betwixt this Balagny 
 and lord Herbert. As tbese two noted duellists stood 
 together in the trenches, the Frenchman addressed 
 lord Herbert: ' Monsieur, on dit que vous etes un des 
 plus braves de votre nation, et je suis Balagny: allons 
 voir qui fera le mieux.' With these words, Balagny 
 jumped over the trench, and Herbert as speedily fol- 
 lowing, both ran sword in hand towards the defences 
 of the besieged town, which we. coined their approach 
 with a storm of musquetry and artillery. Balagny 
 then observed, this was hot service; but Herbert 
 swore, he would nuj, turn back first: so the French- 
 man was finally fain to set. him the example of retreat. 
 Notwithstanding the advantage which lie had gained 
 over Balagny, in this -jeopardy of war,' lord Herbert 
 seems still to have grudged that gentleman's astonish- 
 ing reputation : for he endeavoured to pick a quarrel 
 with him, on the romantic score of the worth of their 
 mistresses i and, receiving a ludicrous answer, told 
 him, with disdain, that he spoke more like a palliarc'. 
 than a cavalier. From such instances, the reader may 
 judge, whether the age of chivaliy did not endure 
 somewhat longer than is generally supposed."— 
 Scott. 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 211 
 
 by Don Quevedo, in some of his novels. But the 
 more ancient customs continued for some time 
 to maintain theirground. The sieur Colombiere 
 mentions two gentlemen, who fought with equal 
 advantage for a whole day, in all the panoply of 
 chivalry, and, the next day, had recourse to the 
 modern mode of combat. By a still more extra- 
 ordinary mixture of ancient and modern fashions, 
 two combatants on horseback ran a tilt at each 
 other with lances, without any covering but 
 their shirts. 
 
 When armour was laid aside, the consequence 
 was, that the first duels were very sanguinary, 
 terminating frequently in the death of one, and 
 sometimes, as in the ballad, of both persons en- 
 gaged. Nor was this all : The seconds, who had 
 nothing to do with the quarrel, fought stoutly, 
 four se desennuyer, and often sealed with their 
 blood their friendship for their principal. A 
 desperate combat, fought between Messrs En- 
 traguet and Caylus, is said to have been the first 
 in which this fashion of promiscuous fight was 
 introduced. It proved fatal to two of Henry the 
 Third's minions, and extracted from that sor- 
 rowing monarch an edict against duelling, which 
 was as frequently as fruitlessly renewed by his 
 successors. The use of rapier and poniard to- 
 gether, * was another cause of the mortal slaugh- 
 ter in these duels, which were supposed, in the 
 reign of Henry IV., to have cost France at least 
 as many of her nobles as had fallen in the civil 
 wars. With these double weapons, frequent 
 instances occurred, in which a duellist, mortally 
 wounded, threw himself within his antagonist's 
 guard, and plunged his poniard into his heart. 
 Nay, sometimes the sword was altogether aban- 
 doned for the more sure and murderous dagger. 
 A quarrel having arisen betwixt the vicompte 
 dAllemagne and the sieur de la Roque, the 
 former, alleging the youth and dexterity of his 
 antagonist, insisted upon fighting the duel in 
 their shirts, and with their poniards only; a 
 desperate mode of conflict, which proved fatal 
 to both. Others refined even upon this horrible 
 struggle, by choosing for the scene a small room, 
 a large hogshead, or, finally, a hole dug in the 
 earth, into which the duellists descended, as into 
 
 • It appears from a line in the black-letter copy of 
 the following ballad, that Wharton and Stuart fought 
 with rapier and dagger : I 
 
 With that stout Wharton was the first 
 Took rapier and poniard there that day. 
 
 Ancient Songs, 1792, p. 204.— Scott. « 
 
 ' a certain grave. Must I add, that even women 
 caught the phrenzy, and that duels were fought, 
 I not only by those whose rank and character ren- 
 dered it little surprising, but by modest and 
 well-born maidens ! — Audiguier Traite de Duel. 
 I Theatre d'Honneur, vol. i. f 
 j We learn, from every authority, that duels 
 became nearly as common in England, after the 
 accession of James VI., as they had ever been in 
 France. The point of honour, so fatal to the 
 gallants of the age, was no where carried more 
 highly than at the court of the pacific Solomon of 
 Britain. Instead of the feudal combats, upon 
 I the Hie-gate tf Edinburgh, which had often dis- 
 i turbed his repose at Holy-rood, his levees, at 
 | Theobald's, were occupied with listening to the 
 | detail of more polished, but n t less sanguinary, 
 contests. I rather suppose, that James never 
 was himself disposed to pay particular attention 
 to the laws of the duello ; but they were defined 
 with a quaintness and pedantry, which, bating 
 his dislike to the subject, must have deeply in- 
 terested him. The point of honour was a science, 
 which a grown gentleman might study under 
 suitable professors, as well as dancing, or any 
 other modish accomplishment. Nay, it would 
 appear, that the ingenuity of the sword-men, (so 
 these military casuists were termed) might often 
 accommodate a bashful combatant with an hon- 
 ourable excuse for declining the combat : 
 
 — Understand'st thou well nice points of duel? 
 Art born of gentle blood and pure descent? 
 Were none of all thy lineage hang'd. or cuckold? 
 Bastard or bastinadoed? Is thy pedigree 
 As long, as wide as mine? For otherwise 
 Thou wert most unworthy ; and 'twere loss of honour 
 In me to fight. More : I have drawn five teeth— 
 If thine stand sound, the terms are much unequal; 
 And, by strict laws of duel, I am excused 
 To fight ou disadvantage.— 
 
 Albumazar, Act IV. Sc. 7. 
 
 In Beaumont and Fletcher's admirable play of 
 A King and no King, there is some excellent 
 mirth at the expense of the professors of the 
 point of honour. 
 
 t This folly ran to such a pitch, that no one was 
 thought worthy to be reckoned a gentleman, who had 
 not tried his valour in at least one duel ; of which lord 
 Herbert gives the following instance : A young gentle- 
 man, desiring to marry a niece of Monsieur Disaucour, 
 ecuyer to the duke de Montmorenci, received this 
 answer: "Friend, it is not yet time to marry; if you 
 will be a brave man, you must first kill, in single com- 
 bat, two or three men ; then marry, and get two or 
 three children ; otherwise the world will neither have 
 gained or lost by you." — Herbert' b Life, p. 64. — Scott. 
 
212 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 But, though such shifts might occasionally be 
 resorted to by the faint-hearted, yet the fiery 
 cavaliers of the English court were but little apt 
 to profit by them; though their vengeance for 
 insulted honour sometimes vented itself through 
 fouler channels than that of fair combat. It 
 happened, for example, that lord Sanquhar, a 
 Scottish nobleman, in fencing with a master of 
 the noble science of defence, lost his eye by an 
 unlucky thrust. The accident was provoking, 
 but without remedy; nor did lord Sanquhar 
 think of it, unless with regret, until some years 
 after, when he chanced to be in the French 
 court. Henry the Great casually asked him, 
 How he lost his eye? ' By the thrust of a sword,' 
 answered lord Sanquhar, not caring to enter into 
 particulars. The king, supposing the accident 
 the consequence of a duel, immediately inquired, 
 'Does the man yet live:" These few words set 
 the blood of the Scottish nobleman on fire; nor 
 did he rest till he had taken the base vengeance 
 of assassinating, by hired ruffians, the unfortu- 
 nate fencing master. The mutual animosity, 
 betwixt the English and Scottish nations, had 
 already occasioned much bloodshed among the 
 gentry, by single combat, and James now found 
 himself under the necessity of making a striking 
 example of one of his Scottish nobles, to avoid 
 the imputation of the grossest partiality. Lord 
 Sanquhar was condemned to be hanged, and 
 suffered that ignominious punishment accord- 
 ingly. 
 
 By a circuitous route, we are now arrived at 
 the subject of our ballad ; for to the tragical duel 
 of Stuart and Wharton, and to other instances 
 of bloody combats and brawls betwixt the two 
 nations, is imputed James's firmness in the case 
 of lord Sanquhar. 
 
 ' For Ramsay, one of the king's servants, not 
 long before Sanquhar's trial, had switched the 
 earl of Montgomery, who was the king's first 
 favourite, happily because he took it so. Max- 
 well, another of them, had bitten Hawley, a 
 gentleman of the Temple, by the ear, which en- 
 raged the Templars (in those times riotous, 
 subject to tumults,) and brought it almost to a 
 national quarrel, till the king stept in, and took 
 it up himself. The lord Bruce had summoned 
 Sir Edward Sackville (afterward earl of Dorset,) 
 into France, with a fatal compliment to take 
 death from his hand. And the much-lamented 
 Sir James Stuart, one of the king's blood, and 
 Sir George Wharton, the prime branch of that 
 noble family, for little worthless punctilios of 
 
 [honour (being intimate friends,) took the field, 
 and fell together by each other's hand.'— Wil- 
 son's Life of James VI. p. 60. 
 
 The sufferers in this melancholy affair were 
 both men of high birth, the heirs apparent of 
 two noble families, and youths of the most pro- 
 mising expectation. Sir James Stuart was a 
 Knight of the Bath, and eldest son of Walter, 
 first lord Blantyre, by Nicolas, daughter of Sir 
 James Somervile, of Cambusnethan. Sir George 
 Wharton was also a Knight of the Bath, and 
 eldest son of Philip, lord Wharton, by Frances, 
 daughter of Henry Clifford, earl of Cumberland. 
 He married Anne, daughter of the earl of Rut- 
 land, but left no issue. 
 
 The circumstances of the quarrel and combat 
 are accurately detailed in the ballad, of which 
 there exists a black-letter copy in the Pearson 
 Collection, now in the library of the late John 
 duke of Roxburghe, entitled, " A Lamentable 
 Ballad, of a Combate, lately fought near Lon- 
 don, between Sir James Stewarde, and Sir George 
 Wharton, knights, who were both slain at that 
 time. — ' To the tune of, Dorvn Plumpton Park, 
 &c.' A copy of this ballad has been published 
 in Mr Ritson's Ancient Songs, and, upon com- 
 parison, appears very little different from that 
 which has been preserved by tradition in Ettrick 
 Forest. Two verses have been added, and one 
 considerably improved, from Mr Ritson's edition. 
 These three stanzas are the fifth and ninth of 
 Part First, and the penult verse of Part Second. 
 I am thus particular, that the reader may be 
 able, if he pleases, to compare the traditional 
 ballad with the original edition. It furnishes 
 striking evidence, that, ' without characters, 
 fame lives long.' The difference, chiefly to be 
 remarked betwixt the copies, lies in the dialect, 
 and in some modifications applicable to Scot- 
 land ; as, using the words ' Our Scottish Knight.' 
 The black-letter ballad, in like manner, t=rms 
 Wharton ' Our English Knight.' My corre- 
 spondent, James Hogg, adds the following note 
 to this ballad : * I have heard this song sung by 
 several old people ; but all of them with tb.13 
 tradition, that Wharton bribed Stuart's second, 
 and actually fought in armour. I acknowledge, 
 that, from some dark hints in the soni, this 
 appears not impossible ; but that you may not 
 judge too rashly, 1 must remind you, that the 
 old people, inhabiting the head-lands (high 
 ground) here-abouts, although possessed of many 
 original songs, traditions, and anecdotes, are 
 most unreasonably partial when the valour or 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 213 
 
 honour of a Scotsman is called in question.' I 
 retain this note, because it is characteristic ; but 
 I agree with my correspondent, there can be no 
 foundation for the tradition, except in national 
 partiality." * 
 
 Part First. 
 
 It grieveth me to tell you o* 
 
 Near London late what did befall, 
 
 'Twixt two young gallant gentlemen ; 
 It grieveth me, and ever shall. 
 
 One of them was Sir George Wharton, 
 My good lord Wharton's son and heir ; 
 
 The other, James Stuart, a Scottish knight, 
 One that a valiant heart did bear. 
 
 When first to court these nobles came, 
 One night, a gaming, fell to words ; f 
 
 And in their fury grew so hot, 
 
 That they did both try their keen swords. 
 
 No manner of treating, nor advice, 
 
 Could hold from striking in that place ; 
 
 For, in the height and heat of blood, 
 
 James struck George Wharton on the face. 
 
 * Since the publication of the first edition of the 
 Minstrelsy, I have seen cause to think that this in- 
 sinuation was not introduced hy Scottish reciters, but 
 really founded upon the opinion formed by Stuart's 
 friends. Sir James Stuart married the lady Dorothy 
 Hastings; and, in a letter from the late venerable 
 countess of Moira and Hastings, he is described, from 
 family tradition, as the most accomplished person of 
 the age he lived in, and, in talents and abilities, almost 
 equal to what is recorded of the admirable Creichton. 
 Sir George Wharton is, on the other hand, affirmed 
 to have been a man of a fierce and brutal temper, and 
 to have provoked tlie quarrel, by wanton and intolera- 
 ble reflections on the Scottish national character. 
 " In the duel," her ladyship concludes, " family tradi- 
 tion does not allow Sir James to have been killed 
 fairly." Fiona an anecdote respecting Sir George 
 ■Wharton's conduct in a quarrel with the earl of Pem- 
 broke, there is room to suppose the imputations on 
 his temper were not withuut foundation. See Lodge's 
 Illustrations of English History, vol. iii. p. 360. Lady 
 Moira concludes, that she had seen a copy of the bal- 
 lad different from any one hitherto printed, in which 
 the charge of foul play was directly stated against 
 "Wharton.— Scott. 
 
 f Sir George Wharton was quarrelsome at cards, a 
 temper which he exhibited so disagreeably when play- 
 ing with the earl of Pembroke, that the earl told him, 
 "Sir George, I have loved you long; but, by your 
 manner in playing, you lay it upon me either to leave 
 to love you, or to leave to play with you; wherefore, 
 choosing to love you still, I will never play with you 
 any more."— Lodge's Illustrations, vol. iii p 350 — 
 
 " What doth this mean," George Wharton 
 said, 
 
 " To strike in such unmanly sort ? 
 13 ut, that I take it at thy hands, 
 
 The tongue of man shall ne'er report 1" 
 
 " But do thy worst, then," said Sir James, 
 " Now do thy worst, appoint a day ! 
 
 There's not a lord in England breathes 
 Shall gar me give an inch of way.' 
 
 " Ye brag right weel," George Wharton 
 said; 
 
 " Let our brave lords at large alane, 
 And speak of me, that am thy foe ; 
 
 For you shall find enough o' ane ! 
 
 " I'll alterchange my glove wi' thine ; 
 
 I'll shew it on the bed o' death ; 
 I mean the place where we shall fight ; 
 
 There ane or both maun lose life and 
 breath !" 
 
 " We'll meet near Waltham," said Sir James : 
 " To-morrow, that shall be the day. 
 
 We'll either take a single man, 
 
 And try who bears the bell away." 
 
 Then down together hands they shook, 
 
 Without any envious sign ; 
 Then went to Ludgate, where they lay, 
 
 And each man drank his pint of wine. 
 
 No kind of envy could be seen, 
 
 No kind of malice they did betray ; 
 
 But a' was clear and calm as death, 
 Whatever in their bosoms lay, 
 
 Till parting time ; and then, indeed, 
 
 They shew'd some rancour in their heart ; 
 
 " Next time we meet," says George Wharton, 
 Not half sae soundly we shall part '." 
 
 So they have parted, firmly bent 
 Their valiant minds equal to try : 
 
 The second part shall clearly show, 
 
 Both how they meet, and how they dye. 
 
 Part Second. 
 
 George Wharton was the first ae man, 
 Came to the appointed place that day, 
 Where he espyed our Scots lurd coming, 
 As fast as he could post away. 
 

 
 
 214 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 They met, fhooli hands; their cheeks were pale; t) 
 
 ^ " No more of that," James Stuart said ; 
 
 
 
 Then to George Wharton James did say, 
 
 "Speak not of curing wounds to me i 
 
 
 
 " I dinna like your doublet, George, 
 
 For one of us must yield our breath, 
 
 
 
 It stands sae weel on you this day. 
 
 Ere off the field one foot we flee." 
 
 
 
 " Say, have you got no armour on ? 
 
 They looked oure their shoulders both, 
 
 
 
 Have you no under robe of steel? 
 
 To see what company was there j 
 
 
 
 I never saw an Englishman 
 
 They both had grievous marks of death, 
 
 
 
 Become his doublet half sae weel." 
 
 But frae the other nane wad steer. 
 
 
 
 "Fy no ! fy no !" George Wharton said, 
 
 George Wharton was the first that fell ; 
 
 
 
 " For that's the thing that inauna be, 
 
 Our Scotch lord fell immediately : 
 
 
 
 That I should come wi* armour on, 
 
 They both did cry to Him above, 
 
 
 
 And you a naked man truly." 
 
 To save their souls, for they boud die. 
 
 
 
 "Our men shall search our doublets, George, 
 
 
 
 
 
 And see if one of us do lie ; 
 
 
 
 
 Then will we prove wi' weapons sharp, 
 Ourselves true gallants for to be." 
 
 Effllg JMateirjj. 
 
 
 
 Then they threw off their doublets both, 
 
 [This ballad, which is said by Motherwell to 
 
 
 
 And stood up in their sarks o' lawn ; 
 
 be popular in many parts of Scotland, is given 
 
 
 
 " Now take my counsel," said Sir James, 
 
 from Mr Jamieson's collection.] 
 
 
 
 " Wharton, to thee I'll make it knawn : 
 
 The young lords o' the north country 
 
 
 
 " So as we stand, so will we fight; 
 
 Have all a-wooing gane, 
 
 
 
 Thus naked in our sarks," said he; 
 
 To win the love of lady iiaisry; 
 
 
 
 " Fy no ! fy no !" George Wharton says ; 
 
 But o' them she would ha'e nane. 
 
 
 
 " That is the thing that must not be. 
 
 0, thae ha'e sought her, lady Maisry, 
 
 
 
 " We're neither drinkers, quarrelers, 
 
 Wi' broaches, and wi' rings, 
 
 
 
 Nor men that cares na fur oursel ; 
 
 And they ha'e courted her, lady Maisry, 
 
 
 
 Nor minds na what vve'ere gaun about, 
 
 Wi' a' kin kind of things. 
 
 
 
 Or if we're gaun to heav'n or hell. 
 
 And they ha'e sought her, lady Maisry, 
 
 
 
 "Let us to God bequeath our souls, 
 
 Frae father and frae mither; 
 
 
 
 Our bodies to the dust and clay !" 
 
 And they ha'e sought her, lady Maisry, 
 
 
 
 With that he drew his deadly sword, 
 
 Frae sister and frae brither. 
 
 
 
 The first was drawn on field that day. 
 
 And they ha'e follow'd her, lady Maisry, 
 
 
 
 Se'en bouts and turns these heroes had, 
 
 Through chamber, and through ha' ; 
 
 
 
 Or e'er a drop o' blood was drawn ; 
 
 But a' that they could say to her, 
 
 
 
 Our Scotch lord, wond'ring, quickly cry'd, 
 
 Her answer still was " Na." 
 
 
 
 " Stout Wharton ! thou still hauds thy awn!" 
 
 " 0, haud your tongues, young men," she 
 
 
 
 The first stroke that George Wharton gae, 
 
 said, 
 
 
 
 He struck him thro' the shoulder-bane ; 
 
 " And think nae mair on me ; 
 
 
 
 The neist was thro' the thick o' the thigh ; 
 
 For I've gi'en my love to an English lord, ■ 
 
 
 
 He thought our Scotch lord had been slain. 
 
 Sae think nae mair on me." 
 
 
 
 "Oh! ever alack!" George Wharton cry'd, 
 
 Her father's kitchey-boy heard that. 
 
 
 
 " Art thou a living man, tell me ? 
 
 (An ill death mot he dee !) 
 
 
 
 If there's a surgeon living can, 
 
 And he is in to her brother, 
 
 
 
 He's cure thy wounds right speedily." > 
 
 ;• As last as gang could he. 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 215 
 
 
 " 0, is my father and my mother weel, 4& "0 whare will I get a bonnie boy, 
 
 
 
 But, and my brothers three ? 
 
 To help me in my need, 
 
 
 
 Gin my sister lady Maisry be weel, 
 
 To rin wi' haste to Lord William, 
 
 
 
 There's naething can ail me." 
 
 And bid him come wi' speed ?" 
 
 
 
 " Your father and your mother is weel, 
 
 out it spak' a bonnie boy, 
 
 
 
 But and your brothers three ; 
 
 Stood by her brother's side ; 
 
 
 
 Your sister, lady Maisry's weel ; 
 
 " It's I wad rin your errand, lady, 
 
 
 
 Sae big wi' bairn is she." 
 
 O'er a* the warld wide. 
 
 
 
 " A malison light on the tongue, 
 
 " Aft ha'e I run your errands, lady, 
 
 
 
 Sic tidings tells to me !— 
 
 When blawin' baith wind and weet; 
 
 
 
 But gin it be a lie you tell, 
 
 But now I'll rin your errand, lady, 
 
 
 
 You sail be hanged hie." 
 
 With saut tears on my cheek." 
 
 
 
 He's doen him to his sister's bower, 
 
 whan he came to broken briggs, 
 
 
 
 Wi' inickle dool and care ; 
 
 He bent his bow and swam ; 
 
 
 
 And there he saw her, lady Maisry, 
 
 And whan he came to the green grass 
 
 
 
 Kembing her yellow hair. 
 
 growin', 
 He slack'd his shoon and ran. 
 
 
 
 " 0, wha is aucht that bairn," he says, 
 
 
 
 
 " That ye sae big are wi' ? 
 
 And whan he came to Lord William's 
 
 
 
 And gin ye winna own the truth, 
 
 yeats, 
 
 
 
 This moment ye sail dee." 
 
 He badena to chap or ca' ; 
 But set his bent bow to his breast, 
 
 
 
 She's turned her richt and round about, 
 
 And lightly lap the wa' ; 
 
 
 
 And the kenibe fell frae her han' ; 
 
 And, or the porter was at the yeat, 
 
 
 
 A trembling seized her fair bodie, 
 
 The boy was in the ha'. 
 
 
 
 And her rosy cheek grew wan. 
 
 " is my biggins broken, boy ? 
 
 
 
 " pardon me, my brother dear, 
 
 Or is my towers won ? 
 
 
 
 And the truth I'll tell to thee ; 
 
 Or is my lady lighter yet, 
 
 
 
 My bairn it is to Lord William, 
 
 0' a dear daughter or son ?" 
 
 
 
 And he is betrothed to me." 
 
 " Your biggin isna broken, sir, 
 
 
 
 " couldna ye gotten dukes, or lords, 
 
 Nor is your towers won ; 
 
 
 
 Intill your ain countrie, 
 
 But the fairest lady in a' the land 
 
 
 
 That ye drew up wi' an English dog, 
 
 This day for you maun burn." 
 
 
 
 To bring this shame on me ? 
 
 " saddle to me the black, the black, 
 
 
 
 " But ye maun gi'e up your English lord, 
 
 Or saddle to me the brown ; 
 
 
 
 Whan your young babe is born ; 
 
 Or saddle to me the swiftest steed 
 
 
 
 For gin ye keep him an hour langer, 
 Your life shall be forlorn." 
 
 That ever rade frae a town." 
 
 
 
 " I will gi'e up this English lord, 
 
 Or he was near a mile awa', 
 
 
 
 Till my young babe be born ; 
 
 She heard his weir-horse sneeze , 
 
 
 
 But the never a day nor hour langer, 
 
 " Mend up the fire, my fause brother, 
 
 
 
 Though my life should be forlorn." 
 
 It's nae come to my knees." 
 
 
 
 " whare is a' my merry young men, 
 
 0, whan he lighted at the yeat, 
 
 
 
 Wham I gi'e meat and fee, 
 
 She heard his bridle ring : 
 
 
 
 To pu' the bracken and the thorn, 
 
 " Mend up the fire, my fause brother 
 
 
 
 To burn this harlot wi' ?" < 
 
 ft It's far yet frae my chin. 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 216 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 " Mend up the fire to me, brother, sfe Glenkindie* was ance a harper gude, 
 
 
 
 Mend up the fire to me ; 
 
 He harped to the king ; 
 
 
 
 For I see him comin' hard and fast, 
 
 And Glenkindie was ance the best harper 
 
 
 
 Will soon men't up for thee. 
 
 That ever harp'd on a string. 
 
 
 
 " O gin my hands had been loose, Willy, 
 
 He'd harpit a fish out o' saut water, 
 
 
 
 Sae hard as they are boun', 
 
 Or water out o' a stane ; 
 
 
 
 I wadd ha'e turn'd me frae the gleed, 
 
 Or milk out o' a maiden's breast. 
 
 
 
 And casten out your young son." 
 
 That bairn had never nane. 
 
 
 
 " I'll gar burn for you, Maisry^ 
 
 He's ta'en his harp intil his hand, 
 
 
 
 Your father and your mother ; 
 
 He harpit and he sang ; 
 
 
 
 And I'll gar burn for you, Maisry, 
 
 And aye as he harpit to the king, 
 
 
 
 Your sister and your brother ; 
 
 To haud him unthought lang. 
 
 
 
 " And I'll gar burn for you, Maisry, 
 
 " I'll gi'e you a robe, Glenkindie, 
 
 
 
 The chief o' a' your kin ; 
 
 A robe o' the royal pa', 
 
 
 
 And the last bonfire that I come to, 
 
 Gin ye will harp i' the winter's night 
 
 
 
 Mysel' I will cast in." 
 
 Afore my nobles a'." 
 
 And the king but and his nobles a' 
 
 Sat birling at the wine; 
 And he wad ha'e but his ae dochter, 
 
 To wait on them at dine.f 
 
 
 
 (BrlenfeinbU* 
 
 
 
 
 
 He's ta'en his haip intill his hand, 
 He's harpit them a' asleep, 
 
 
 
 [From Jamieson's Collection.—" The hero of 
 
 Except it was the young countess, 
 
 
 
 this tale," says Mr Jamieson, " seems to be the 
 
 That love did waukin keep. 
 
 
 
 celebrated Welsh bard, Glaskirion, or Kirion the 
 
 
 
 
 Sallow, of whom some notice will be found in 
 
 And first he has harpit a grave tune, 
 
 
 
 Owen's 'Cambrian Biography.' In Chaucer's 
 
 And syne he has harpit a gay ; 
 
 
 
 'House of Fame,' he is classed with Orpheus, 
 
 And mony a sich atween hands 
 
 
 
 Arion, and Chiron : — 
 
 « There herde I play on a harpe, 
 
 I wat the lady gae.J 
 
 
 
 
 That sowned both well and sharpe, 
 
 * Glenkindie (qu. Glenkennedyt) is a beauti- 
 
 
 
 Hym Orpheus full craftily: 
 
 full valley, watered by the river Don, in the 
 
 
 
 And on this side fast by 
 Sate the harper Orion, 
 And Eacides Chirion, 
 
 neighbourhood of Glenbucket, and belongs to the 
 
 
 
 Earl of Fife. — Jamieson. 
 
 
 
 And the Briton Glaskyrion.* 
 
 f This stanza is found in the opening of 
 " Brown Robin," which commences thus;— 
 
 
 
 The Scottish writers, adapting the name to their 
 own meridian, call him Glenkindy, Glenskeenie, 
 
 " The king but and his nobles a' 
 Sat birling at the wine, [bis] 
 
 
 
 &c. The copy here given was taken from 
 
 He would ha'e nane but his ae daughter 
 
 
 
 the recitation of an old woman, by Professor 
 
 To wait on them at dine. 
 
 
 
 Scott of Aberdeen, and has been somewhat im 
 
 1 " She served them but, she served them ben, 
 
 
 
 proved by a fragment communicated by the Rev. 
 
 Intill a gown o' green : 
 
 
 
 William Gray of Lincoln. Still it must be con- 
 
 But her e'e was ay on Brown Robin, 
 
 
 
 fessed, that the garb of this ' harper gude, that 
 
 That stood low under the rain." &c.— Jamieson. 
 
 
 
 harped to the king,' seems very unworthy of 
 
 \ The following stanza occurs in one of the 
 
 
 
 the rank he once deservedly held. For another 
 
 copies of " The Gay Gosshawk:" 
 
 
 
 ballad on this subject, see the ' Reliques of An- 
 
 i " O first he sang a merry song, 
 K And then he sang a grave : 
 
 
 
 cient English Poetry,' edit. 4. vol. iii. p. 43."] , 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 217 
 
 
 Says, " Whan day is dawen, and cocks ha'e 4fe She kent he was nae gentle knichfc 
 
 
 
 era wen. 
 
 | That she had latten in ; 
 
 
 
 And wappit their wings sae wide, 
 
 For neither whan he gaed nor cam', 
 
 
 
 It's ye may come to my bower door, 
 
 Kist he her cheek or chin. 
 
 
 
 And streek you by my side. 
 
 He neither kist her whan he cam', 
 
 
 
 " But look that ye tell na Gib your man, 
 
 Nor clappit her when he gaed ; 
 
 
 
 For naething that ye dee; 
 
 And in at her bower window, 
 
 
 
 For, an ye tell him, Gib your man, 
 
 The moon shone like the gleed. 
 
 
 
 He'll beguile baith you and me." 
 
 " 0, ragged is your hose, Glenkindie, 
 
 
 
 He's ta'en his harp intill his hand ; 
 
 And riven is your sheen, 
 
 
 
 He harpit and he sang; 
 
 And reavel'd is your yellow hair 
 
 
 
 And he is hame to Gib his man, 
 
 That I saw late yestreen." 
 
 
 
 As fast as he could gang. 
 
 " The stockings they are Gib my man's, 
 
 
 
 " mith I tell you, Gib, my man, 
 
 They came first to my hand ; 
 
 
 
 Gin 1 a man had slain ?" 
 
 And this is Gib my man's shoon; 
 
 
 
 " O that ye micht, my gude master, 
 
 At my bed feet they stand. 
 
 
 
 - Although ye had slain ten." 
 
 I've reavel'd a' my yellow hair 
 Coming against the wind." 
 
 
 
 " Then tak' ye tent now, Gib, my man, 
 
 
 
 
 My bidden for to dee ; 
 
 He's ta'en the harp intill his hand, 
 
 
 
 And, but an ye wauken me in time, 
 
 He harpit and he sang, 
 
 
 
 Ye sail be hangit hie. 
 
 Until he cam' to his master, 
 As fast as he could gang. 
 
 
 
 " Whan day has dawen, and cocks ha'e 
 
 
 
 
 crawn, 
 
 " Won up, won up, my good master ; 
 
 
 
 And wappit their wings sae wide, 
 
 I fear ye sleep o'er lang ; 
 
 
 
 I'm bidden gang till yon lady's bower, 
 
 There's nae a cock in a' the land 
 
 
 
 And streek me by her side." 
 
 But has wappit his wings and crawn." 
 
 
 
 *' Gae hame to your bed, my good master; 
 
 Glenkindie's tane his harp in hand ; 
 
 
 
 Ye've waukit, I fear, o'er lang ; 
 
 He harpit and he sang, 
 
 
 
 For I'll wauken you in as good time, 
 
 And he has reaeh'd the lady's bower, 
 
 
 
 As ony cock i' the land." 
 
 Afore that e'ei- he blan. 
 
 
 
 He's ta'en his harp intill his hand, 
 
 When he cam' to the lady's bovver, 
 
 
 
 He harpit and he sang, 
 
 He chappit at the chin ; f 
 
 
 
 Until he harpit his master asleep, 
 
 " 0, wha is that at at my bower door, 
 
 
 
 Syne fast awa' did gang. 
 
 That opens na and comes in ?" 
 " It's 1, Glenkindie, jour ain true love, 
 
 
 
 And he is till that lady's bower, 
 
 And in 1 canna win." 
 
 
 
 As fast as he could rin ; 
 
 
 
 
 When he cam' till that lady's bower, 
 
 " Forbid it, forbid it," says that lady, 
 
 
 
 He chappit at the chin. 
 
 " That ever sic shame betide ; 
 That I should first be a wild loon's lass, 
 
 
 
 " wha is this," says that lady, 
 
 And then a young knight's bride." 
 
 
 
 " That opens nae and comes in ?" 
 
 
 
 
 " It's I, Glenkindie, your ain true love, 
 
 There was nae pity for that lady, 
 For she lay cald and dead ; 
 
 
 
 0, open and lat me in !" 
 And then he pecked his feathers gray, 
 
 
 
 
 To her the letter gave."— Jamieson. '■ 
 
 S f " At the chin," sic. — Jamiesoiu 
 
 
 
218 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 But a' was for him Glenkindie, 
 In bower he must go mad. 
 
 He'd harpit a fish out o' saut water ; 
 
 The water out o' a stane ; 
 The milk out o' a maiden's breast, 
 
 That bairn had never nane. 
 
 He's ta'en his harp intill his hand ; 
 
 Sae sweetly as it rang, 
 And wae and weary was to hear 
 
 Glenkindie's dowie sang.* 
 
 But cauld and dead was that lady, 
 
 Nor heeds for a' his maen ; 
 An' he wad harpit till domisday, 
 
 She'll never speak again. 
 
 He's ta'en his harp intill his hand ; 
 
 He harpit and he sang ; 
 And he is hame to Gib his man 
 
 As fast as he could gang. 
 
 " Come forth, come forth, now, Gib, my man; 
 
 Till I pay you your fee; 
 Come forth, come forth, now, Gib, my man ; 
 
 Weel payit sail ye be !" 
 
 And he has ta'en him, Gib, his man, 
 
 And he has hang'd him hie; 
 And he's hangit him o'er his ain yate, 
 
 As high as high could be. 
 
 %$z Jfete of ©aedaltero*. 
 
 [Modern Ballad.— By Charles Kirkpatriek 
 Sharpe. First publishi-d in the Minstrelsy of 
 the Scottish Border.—" The tragical event," says 
 the editor of that work, "which preceded, or 
 perhaps gave rise to, the successful insurrection 
 of Robert Bruce, against the tyranny of Edward 
 1., is well known. In the year 1304, Bruce ab- 
 ruptly left the court of England, and held an 
 interview, in the Dominical church of Dumfries, 
 with John, surnamed, from the colour of his 
 
 <& hair, the Ked Cuming, a powerful chieftain, who 
 had formerly held the regency of Scotland. It is 
 said, by the Scottish historians, that he upbraided 
 Cuming with having betrayed to the English 
 monarch a scheme, formed betwixt them, for 
 asserting the independence of Scotland. The 
 English writers maintain, that Bruce proposed 
 such a plan to Cuming, which he rejected with 
 scorn, as inconsistent with the fealty he had 
 sworn to Ed ward. The dispute, however it be- 
 gan, soon waxed high betwixt two fierce and 
 independent barons. At length, standing before 
 the high altar of the church, Cuming gave Bruce 
 the lie, and Bruce retaliated by a stroke of his 
 poniard. Full of confusion and remorse, for a 
 homicide committed in a sanctuary, the future 
 monarch of Scotland rushed out of the church, 
 with the bloody poniard in his hand. Kirk- 
 patriek and Lindsay, two barons, who faithfully 
 adhered to him, were waiting at the gate. To 
 their earnest and anxious inquiries into the cause 
 of his emotion, Bruce answered, "I doubt I have 
 slain the Red Cuming." — " Doubtest thou?" 
 exclaimed Kirkpatriek, " I make sure !"f Ac- 
 cordingly, with Lindsay and a few followers, he 
 rushed into the church, and dispatched the 
 wounded Cuming. 
 
 A homicide, in such a place, and such an age, 
 could hardly escape embellishment from tne fer- 
 [ tile genius of the churchmen, whose interest was 
 I so closely connected with the inviolability of a 
 i divine sanctuary. Accordingly Bowmaker in- 
 ! forms us, that the body of the slaughtered baron 
 i was watched, during the night, by the Domini- 
 ! cans, with the usual rites of the church. But, 
 at midnight, the whole assistants fell into a dead 
 ; sleep, with the exception of one aged father, who 
 j heard, with terror and surprise, a voice, like that 
 j of a wailing infant, exclaim, " How long, O Lord, 
 ■ shall vengeance be deferred ?" it was answered, 
 in an awful tone, " Endure with patience, until 
 the anniversary of this day shall retu n for the 
 j fifty-second time." In the year 1357, fifty-two 
 years after Cuming's death, James of Lindsay 
 ! was hospitably feasted in the castle of Caerlaveroc, 
 in Dumfiies-shire, belonging to Roger Kirk- 
 patriek. They were the sons of the muiderers 
 of the regent. In the dead of night, for some 
 unknown cause, Lindsay arose, and poniarded in 
 
 * This stanza has been altered, to introduce a 
 little variety, and prevent the monotonous tire- 
 someness of repetition. — Jamieson. 
 
 t Hence the crest of Kirkpatriek is a hand, grasping- 
 a dagger, distilling gouts of blood, proper : motto, " I 
 mack sicker." — Scott. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 219 
 
 
 his bed his unsuspecting host. He then mounted ife " Now, haste ye, master, to the ha' ! 
 
 
 
 his horse to fly ; but guilt and fear had so bewil- 
 
 The guests are drinking there ; 
 
 
 
 dered his senses, that, after riding all night, he 
 
 Kirkpatrick's pride sail be but sma', 
 
 
 
 was taken, at break of day, not three miles from 
 
 For a* his lady fair." 
 
 
 
 the castle, and was afterwards executed by order 
 
 
 
 
 of King David II. 
 
 In came the merry minstrelsy ; 
 
 
 
 The story of the murder is thus told by the 
 
 Shrill harps wi' tinkling string, 
 
 
 
 prior of Lochlevin :— 
 
 And bag-pipes, lilting melody, 
 Made proud Caerlaveroc ring. 
 
 
 
 That ilk yhere in our kynryk 
 
 
 
 
 Hoge was slayne of Kilpatrik 
 Be schyr Jakkis the Lyndessay 
 In-til Karlaveroc ; and away 
 
 There gallant knights, and ladies bright, 
 Did move to measures fine, 
 
 
 
 For til have bene with all his mycht 
 
 Like frolic fairies, jimp and light, 
 
 
 
 This Lyndyssay pressyt all a nycht 
 
 Wha dance in pale moonshine. 
 
 
 
 Forth on hors rycht fast rydand. 
 
 
 
 Nevyrtheless yhit thai him fand 
 
 
 
 
 Nocht thre myle fra that ilk place; 
 There tane and broucht agane he was 
 Til Karlaveroc, be thai men 
 
 The ladies glided through the ha', 
 Wi' footing swift and sure — 
 
 
 
 That frendis war till Kirkpatrik then; 
 
 Kirkpatrick's dame outdid them a', 
 
 
 
 Thare was he kepyd rycht straytly. 
 His wyf * passyd till the king Dawy, 
 
 Whan she stood on the floor. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 And prayid hiin of his realte, 
 
 
 
 
 Of Lauche that scho mycht serwyd be. 
 
 And some had tyres of gold sae rare. 
 
 
 
 The kyng Dawy than also fast 
 
 Till Dumfres with his curt he past, 
 
 At Lawcue wald. Quhat was thare mare? 
 
 And pendants f eight or nine ; 
 And she, wi' but her gowden hair, 
 
 
 
 This Lyndessay to Oeth he gert do thare. 
 
 Did a' the rest outshine. 
 
 
 
 Wintownis Cronykill, b. viii. c.44."— Scott.] 
 
 And some, wi' costly diamonds sheen, 
 
 
 
 " Now, come to me, my little page, 
 
 Did warriors' heai ts assail — 
 
 
 
 Of wit sae wond'rous sly ! 
 
 But she, wi' her twa sparkling een, 
 
 
 
 Ne'er under flower o' youthfu' age, 
 Did mair destruction lie. 
 
 Pierc'd through the thickest mail. 
 
 
 
 " I'll dance and revel wi' the rest, 
 
 Kirkpatrick led her by the hand, 
 
 
 
 Within this castle rare ; 
 
 With gay and courteous air: 
 
 
 
 Tet he shall rue the drearie feast, 
 
 No stately castle in the land 
 
 
 
 Bot and his lady fair. 
 
 Could shew sae bright a pair. 
 
 
 
 " For ye maun drug Kirkpatrick's wine, 
 
 he was young — and clear the day 
 
 
 
 Wi' juice o' poppy flowers ; 
 
 Of life to youth appears ! 
 
 
 
 Nae mair he'll see the morning shine 
 
 Alas ! how soon his setting ray 
 
 
 
 Frae proud Caerlaveroc's towers. 
 
 Was dimm'd wi' show'ring tears ! 
 
 
 
 "For he has twin'd my love and me, 
 
 Fell Lindsay sicken'd at the sight, 
 
 
 
 The maid of mickle scorn — 
 
 And sallow grew his cheek ; 
 
 
 
 She'll welcome, wi' a tearfu' e'e, 
 
 He tried wi' smiles to hide his spite, 
 
 
 
 Her widowhood the morn. 
 
 But word he cou'dna speak. 
 
 
 
 " And saddle weel my milk-white steed, 
 
 The gorgeous banquet was brought up, 
 
 
 
 Prepare my harness bright ! 
 
 On silver and on gold : 
 The page chose out a crystal cup, 
 
 
 
 Giff I can raak' my rival bleed, 
 
 
 
 I'll ride awa' this night." 
 
 The sleepy juice to hold. 
 
 
 • That is, Kirkpatrick's wife. s 
 
 y f Pendants — Jewels on the forehead. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
220 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 And whan Kirkpatrick call'd for wine, 
 This page the drink wou'd hear ; 
 
 Nor did the knight or dame divine 
 Sic black deceit was near. 
 
 Then every lady sung a sang ; 
 
 Some gay — some sad and sweet — 
 Like tunefu' birds the woods amang, 
 
 Till a' began to greet. 
 
 E'en cruel Lindsay 6hed a tear, 
 
 Forletting malice deep — 
 As mermaids, wi- their warbles clear, 
 
 Can sing the waves to sleep. 
 
 And now to bed they all are dight, 
 
 Now steek they ilka door : 
 There's nought but stillness o' the night, 
 
 Whare was sic din before. 
 
 Fell Lindsay puts his harness on, 
 
 His steed doth ready stand ; 
 And up the stair-case is he gone, 
 
 Wi' poniard in his hand. 
 
 The sweat did on his forehead break, 
 
 He shook wi' guilty fear ; 
 In air he heard a joyfu' shriek — 
 
 Red Cumin's ghaist was near. 
 
 Now to the chamber doth he creep — 
 
 A lamp, of glimmering ray, 
 Show'd young Kirkpatrick fast asleep, 
 
 In arms of lady gay. 
 
 He lay wi' bare unguarded breast, 
 
 By sleepy juice beguil'd; 
 And sometimes sigh'd, by dreams oppreet, 
 
 And sometimes sweetly smiled. 
 
 Unclosed her mouth o' rosy hue, 
 
 Whence issued fragrant air, 
 That gently, in soft motion, blew 
 
 Stray ringlets o' her hair. 
 
 " Sleep on, sleep on, ye luvers dear! 
 
 The dame may wake to weep — 
 But that day's sun maun shine fou clear, 
 
 That spills this warrior's sleep." 
 
 He louted down — her lips he prest — 
 
 ! kiss, foreboding woe ! 
 Then struck on young Kirkpatrick's breast 
 
 A deep and deadly blow. 
 
 Sair, sair, and meikle, did he bleed : 
 
 His lady slept till day, 
 But dream't the Firth * flow'd o'er her head* 
 
 In bride-bed as she lay. 
 
 The murderer hasted down the stair, 
 
 And back'd his courser fleet : 
 Then did the thunder 'gin to rair, 
 
 Then show'r'd the rain and sleet. 
 
 Ae fire-flaught darted through the rain, 
 
 Whare a' was mirk before, 
 And glinted o'er the raging main, 
 
 That shook the sandy shore. 
 
 But mirk and mirker grew the night, 
 
 And heavier beat the rain ; 
 And quicker Lindsay urged his flight, 
 
 Some ha' or beild to gain. 
 
 Lang did he ride o'er hill and dale, 
 
 Nor mire nor flood he feai'd: 
 1 trow his courage 'gan to fail 
 
 When morning light appear'd. 
 
 For having hied, the live-lang night, 
 Through hail and heavy showers, 
 
 He fand himsel', at peep o' light. 
 Hard by Caerlaveroc's towers. 
 
 The castle bell was ringing out, 
 
 The ha' was all asteer ; 
 And mony a scriech and waefu' shout 
 
 Appall'd the murderer's ear. 
 
 Now they ha'e bound this traitor Strang, 
 
 Wi' curses and wi' blows, 
 And high in air they did him hang, 
 
 To feed the carrion crows. 
 
 " To sweet Lincluden's f haly cells 
 
 Fou dowie I'll repair ; 
 There peace wi' gentle patience dwells, 
 
 Nae deadly feuds are there. 
 
 " In tears I'll wither ilka charm, 
 
 Like draps o' balefu' yew ; 
 And wail the beauty that cou'd harm 
 
 A knight, sae brave and true." 
 
 * Caerlaverock stands near Solway Firth, 
 f Lincluden Abbey is situated near Dumfries, 
 a the banks of the river Cluden. It was founded 
 

 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 22 1 
 
 
 <& The first an' town that they came till, 
 
 
 
 
 He bought her brooch and ring; 
 
 
 
 %%t §&w %®bn. 
 
 But aye he bade her turn again, 
 And gang nae farder wi' him. 
 
 
 
 [From Buchan's Collection.— Eight lines of 
 
 " But again, dear love, and again, dear love, 
 
 
 
 this are to be found in Herd's Collection.] 
 
 Will ye never love me again ? 
 Alas ! for loving you sae well, 
 
 
 
 A fair maid sat in her bower door, 
 
 And you, nae me again." 
 
 
 
 "Wringing her lily hands; 
 
 
 
 
 And by it came a sprightly youth, 
 
 The neist an' town that they came till, 
 
 
 
 Fast tripping o'er the strands. 
 
 His heart it grew mair fain ; 
 And he was deep in love wi' her, 
 
 
 
 " Where gang ye, young John," she says, 
 
 As she was ower again. 
 
 
 
 " Sae early in the day ? 
 
 
 
 
 It gars me think, by your fast trip, 
 
 The neist an' town that they came till, 
 
 
 
 Your journey's far away." 
 
 He bought her wedding gown ; 
 And made her lady o' ha's and bowers, 
 
 
 
 He turn'd about wi' surly look, 
 
 In bonnie Berwick town. 
 
 
 
 And said, " What's that to thee ? 
 
 
 
 
 I'm gaen to see a lovely maid, 
 
 
 
 
 Mair fairer far than ye." 
 
 
 
 
 
 " Now ha'e ye play'd me this, fause love, 
 
 
 
 
 In simmer, 'mid the flowers ? 
 I sail repay ye back again, 
 
 ^latwj^eKour k ffdlslorit* 
 
 
 
 In winter, 'mid the showers. 
 
 [From Mr Buchan's Collection.] 
 
 
 
 " But again, dear love, and again, dear love, 
 
 
 
 "Will ye not turn again ? 
 
 
 
 
 For as ye look to ither women, 
 
 There was a maid richly array 'd, 
 
 
 
 Shall I to ither men." 
 
 In robes were rare to see ; 
 For seven years and something mair, 
 
 
 
 " Make your choose o' whom you please, 
 
 She serv'd a gay ladie. 
 
 
 
 For I my choice will have ; 
 
 
 
 
 I've chosen a maid mair fair than thee, 
 
 But being fond o' a higher place, 
 
 
 
 I never will deceive." 
 
 In service she thought lang ; 
 She took her mantle her about, 
 
 
 
 But she's kilt up her claithing fine, 
 
 Her coffer by the band. 
 
 
 
 And after him gaed she; 
 
 
 
 
 But aye he said, " Ye'U turn back, 
 
 And as she walk'd by the shore side, 
 
 
 
 Nae farder gang wi' me." 
 
 As bl#he's a bird on tree ; 
 Yet still she gaz'd her round about, 
 
 
 
 "But again, dear love, and again, dear love, 
 
 To see what she could see. 
 
 
 
 Will ye never love me again ? 
 
 
 
 
 Alas! for lc-ving you sae well, 
 
 At last she spied a little castle, 
 
 
 
 And you, nae me again." 
 
 That stood near by the sea; 
 She spied it far, and drew it near, 
 To that castle went she. 
 
 
 
 
 and filled with Benedictine nuns, in the time of 
 
 
 
 
 Malcolm IV., by Uthred, father to Roland, lord 
 
 And when she came to that castle, 
 
 
 
 of Galloway — these were expelled by Archibald 
 
 She tirled at the pin ; 
 
 
 
 the Grim, earl of Douglas. — Vide Pennant. — 
 
 And ready stood a little wee boy, 
 
 
 
 Scott. < 
 
 5 To lat this fair maid in. 
 
 
 

 
 222 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 
 " who's the owner of this place, ( 
 
 ^ When the queen's maids their visits paid, 
 
 
 
 porter boy tell me ?" 
 
 Upo' the gude Yule day ; 
 
 
 
 '* This place belongs unto a queen 
 
 When other ladies got horse to ride, 
 
 
 
 0' birth and high degree." 
 
 She boud take foot and gae. 
 
 
 
 She put her hand in her pocket, 
 
 The queen she call'd her stable groom, 
 
 
 
 And ga'e him shillings three ; 
 
 To come to her right soon , 
 
 
 
 *' porter bear my message well, 
 
 Says, " Ye'll take out yon wild waith steed, 
 
 
 
 Unto the queen frae me." 
 
 And bring him to the green. 
 
 
 
 The porter's gane before the queen, 
 
 " Ye'll take the bridle frae his head, 
 
 
 
 Fell low down on his knee ; 
 
 The lighters frae his e'en ; 
 
 
 
 " Win up, win up, my porter boy, 
 
 Ere she ride three times roun' the cross, 
 
 
 
 What makes this courtesie?" 
 
 Her weel days will be dune." 
 
 
 
 " I ha'e been porter at your yetts, 
 
 Jellyflorice his true love spy'd, 
 
 
 
 My dame, these years full three ; 
 
 As she rade roun' the cross ; 
 
 
 
 But see a ladie at your yetts, 
 
 And thrice he kiss'd her lovely lips, 
 
 
 
 The fairest my eyes did see." 
 
 And took her frae her horse. 
 
 
 
 " Cast up my yetts baith wide and braid, 
 
 " Gang to your bower, my lily flower, 
 
 
 
 Lat her come into me; 
 
 For a' my mother's spite ; 
 
 
 
 And 1 11 know by her courtesie, 
 
 There's nae other amang her maids, 
 
 
 
 Lord's daughter if she be." 
 
 In whom 1 take delight. 
 
 
 
 When she came in before the queen, 
 
 " Ye are my jewel, and only ane, 
 
 
 
 Fell low down on her knee ; 
 
 Nane's do you injury; 
 
 
 
 " Service frae you, my dame, the queen, 
 
 For ere this day-month come and gang, 
 
 
 
 I pray you grant it me." 
 
 My wedded wife ye'se be J" 
 
 
 
 " If that service ye now do want, 
 
 
 
 
 What station will ye be ? 
 
 
 
 
 
 Can ye card wool, or spin, fair maid, 
 
 
 
 
 Or milk the cows to me ?" 
 
 
 
 
 "No, 1 can neither card nor spin, 
 
 3farae$ ^ewlcjJ. 
 
 
 
 is or cows 1 canno' milk; 
 
 
 
 
 But sit into a lady's bower, 
 
 [This very singular old ballad is here given 
 
 
 
 And sew the seams o' 6ilk." 
 
 in a complete form from Mr Buchan's Collec- 
 tion. Fragments of it are to be found in the 
 
 
 
 " What is your name, ye comely dame, 
 
 Border Minstrelsy and Motherwell's Collection, 
 
 
 
 Pray tell this unto me ?" . 
 
 under the name of the Demon Lover.] 
 
 
 
 " Blancheflour, that is my name, 
 
 
 
 
 Born in a strange countrie I" 
 
 " are ye my father, or are ye my mother ? 
 Or are ye my brother John ? 
 
 
 
 " keep ye well frae Jellyflorice, 
 
 Or are ye James Herries, my first true love, 
 
 
 
 My ain dear son is he ; 
 
 Come back to Scotland again {" 
 
 
 
 When other ladies get a gift, 
 
 
 
 
 0' that ye shall get three." 
 
 "I am not your father, I am not your 
 mother, 
 
 
 
 It wasna tald into the bower, 
 
 Nor am 1 your brother John ; 
 
 
 
 Till it went through the ha', 
 
 But I'm James Herries, your first true 
 
 
 
 That Jellynoric..' and Blancheflour 
 
 love, 
 
 
 
 Were grown ower great witha'. ^ 
 
 > Come back to Scotland again." 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 223 
 
 
 " Awa', awa', ye former lovers, I 
 
 Had far awa' frae me ; 
 For now I am another man's wife, 
 
 Ye'U ne'er see joy o' me." 
 
 b She hadna sailed up«<n the sea 
 A league but barely three, 
 Till she minded on her dear husband, 
 Her little young son tae. 
 
 
 
 " Had I kent that ere I came here* 
 
 I ne'er had come to thee ; 
 For 1 might ha'e married the king's daugh- 
 
 Sae fain she would had me. [ter, 
 
 "0 gin I were at land again, 
 At land where I would be, 
 
 The woman ne'er should hear the son 
 Should gar me sail the sea." 
 
 
 
 " I despised the crown o' gold, 
 
 The yellow silk also ; 
 And 1 am come to my true love, 
 
 But with me she'll not go." 
 
 "0 hold your tongue, my sprightly flower, 
 
 Let a' your mourning be; 
 I'll show you how the lilies grow 
 
 On the banks o' Italy." 
 
 
 
 " My husband he is a carpenter, 
 Makes his bread on dry land, 
 
 And I ha'e born him a young son, — 
 Wi* you I will not gang." 
 
 She hadna sailed on the sea 
 
 A day but barely ane, 
 Till the thoughts o' grief came in her mind, 
 
 And the lang'd for to be hame. 
 
 
 
 " You must forsake your dear husband, 
 
 Your little young son also, 
 Wi' me to sail the raging seas, 
 
 Where the stormy winds do blow." 
 
 " gentle death, come cut my breath, 
 
 I may be dead ere morn ; 
 I may be buried in Scottish ground, 
 
 Where I was bred and born." 
 
 
 
 " what ha'e you to keep me wi', 
 If 1 should with you go ? 
 
 If I'd forsake my dear husband, 
 My little young son also ?" 
 
 " O hold your tongue, my lily leesome thing, 
 
 Let a' your mourning be ; 
 But for a while we'll stay at Hose Isle, 
 
 Then see a far countrie. 
 
 
 
 " See ye not yon seven pretty ships, 
 The eighth brought me to land ; 
 
 With meichandize and mariners. 
 And wealth in every hand ?" 
 
 " Ye'se ne'er be buried in Scottish ground, 
 
 Nor land ye'se nae mair see; 
 I brought you away to punish you, 
 
 For the breaking your vows to me. 
 
 
 
 She turn'd her round upon the shore, 
 Her love's ships to behold ; 
 
 Their topmasts and their mainyards 
 Were cover'd o'er wi' gold. 
 
 " I said ye should see the lilies grow, 
 
 On the banks o' Italy; 
 But I'll let you see the fishes swim, 
 
 In the bottom o' the sea." 
 
 
 
 Then she's gane to her little young son, 
 And kiss'd him cheek and chin ; 
 
 Sae has she to her sleeping husband, 
 And dune the same to him. 
 
 He reach'd his hand to the topmast, 
 Made a' the sails gae down ; 
 
 And in the twinkling o an e'e, 
 Baith ship and crew did drown. 
 
 
 
 " O sleep ye, wake ye, my husband, 
 
 I wish ye wake in time ; 
 I wouldna for ten thousand pounds, 
 
 This night ye knew my mind." 
 
 The fatal flight o' this wretched maid 
 Did reach her ain countrie ; 
 
 Her husband then distracted raD, 
 And this lament made he : — 
 
 
 
 She's drawn the slippers on her feet, 
 
 Were cover'd o'er wi' gold ; 
 Well lined within wi' velvet fine, 
 
 To had her frae the cold. S 
 
 " wae be to the ship, the ship, 
 
 And wae be to the sea, 
 
 And wae be to the mariners, 
 
 "f Took Jeanie Douglas frae me ! 
 
 
 
224 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 " bonnie, bcmnie was my love, 
 
 A pleasure to behold ' 
 The very hair o' my love's head, 
 
 Was like the threads o' gold. 
 
 " O bonnie was her cheek, her chee' 
 And bonnie was her chin; 
 
 And bonnie was the bride she was, 
 The day she was made mine 1" 
 
 [This beautiful ballad is one of Sir Walter 
 Scott's early productions. It appears in the 
 Border Minstrelsy, addressed to the Eight Hon. 
 Lady Anne Hamilton.— "The ruins of Cadyovv, 
 or Cadzow Castle," says the author, "the ancient 
 baronial residence of the family of Hamilton, are 
 situated upon the precipitous banks of the river 
 Evan, about two miles above its junction with 
 the Clyde. It was dismantled, in the conclusion 
 of the civil wars, during the reign of the unfor- 
 tunate Mary, to whose cause the house of Hamil- 
 ton devoted themselves with a generous zeal, 
 which occasioned their temporary obscurity, and, 
 very nearly, their total ruin. The situation of 
 the ruins, embosomed in wood, darkened by ivy 
 and creeping shrubs, and overhanging the brawl- 
 ing torrent, is romantic in the highest degree. 
 In the immediate vicinity of Cadyow is a grove 
 of immense oaks, the remains of the Caledonian 
 Forest, which anciently extended through the 
 south of Scotland, from the eastern to the At- 
 lantic Ocean. Some of these trees measure 
 twenty five feet, and upwards, in circumference ; 
 and the state of decay, in which they now appear, 
 shows, that they may have witnessed the rites of 
 the Druids. The whole scenery is included in 
 the magnificent and extensive park of the duke I 
 of Hamilton. There was long preserved in this , 
 forest the breed of the Scottish wild cattle, until 
 their ferocity occasioned their being extirpated, 
 about forty years ago. Their appearance was 
 beautiful, being milk-white, with black muzzles, 
 horns, and hoofs. The bulls are described by 
 ancient authors as having white manes; but 
 those of latter days had lost that peculiarity, 
 perhaps by intermixture with the tame breed.* 
 
 * They were formerly kept in the park at Drumlan- 
 rig, and* are still to be seen at Chillingham Castle, in _ 
 Northumberland. — Scott. ■" 
 
 In detailing the death of the regent Murray, 
 which is made the subject of the following ballad, 
 it would be injustice to my reader to use other 
 words than those of Dr Robertson, whose account 
 of that memorable event forms a beautiful piece 
 of historical painting. 
 
 " Hamilton of Bothwellhaugh was the person 
 who committed this barbarous action. He had 
 been condemned to death soon after the battle 
 of Langside, as we have already related, and 
 owed his life to the regent's clemency. But part 
 of his estate had been bestowed upon one of the 
 regent's favourites, f who seized his house, and 
 turned out his wife, naked, in a cold night, into 
 the open fields, where, before next morning, she 
 became furiously mad. This injury made a 
 deeper impression on him than the benefit he 
 ! had received, and from that moment he vowed 
 to be revenged of the regent. Party rage strength - 
 | ened and inflamed his private resentment. His 
 j kinsmen, the Hamiltons, applauded the enter- 
 j prize. The maxims of that age justified the most 
 ! desperate course he could take to obtain ven- 
 geance. He followed the regent f <r some time, 
 and watched for an opportunity to strike the 
 blow. He resolved, at last, to wait till his enemy 
 should arrive at Linlithgow, through which he 
 was to pass, in his way from Stirling to Edin- 
 burgh. He took his stand in a wooden gallery,:): 
 which had a window towards the street, spread 
 a feather-bed on the floor, to hinder the noise of 
 I his feet from being heard , hung up a black cloth 
 j behind him, that his shadow might not be ob- 
 served from without; and, after all this prepa- 
 ration, calmly expected the regent's approach, 
 who had lodged, during the night, in a house 
 not far distant. Some indistinct information of 
 the danger which threatened him had been con- 
 veyed to the regent, and he paid so much regard 
 to it, that he resolved to return by the same gate 
 through which he had entered, and to fetch a 
 compass round the town. But, as the crowd 
 about the gate was great, and he himself unac- 
 quainted with fear, he proceeded directly along 
 the street; and the throng of people obligh»g 
 
 + This was Sir James Ballenden, lord justice-clerk, 
 whose shameful and inhuman rapacity occasioned the 
 Catastrophe in the texU- Spottiiwo xie.— Scott. 
 
 X This projecting gallery is still s! 
 to which it was attached, w 
 archbishop of St Ar 
 duke of Chatelherau 
 This, among many other crcumstances, seems to 
 evince the aid which Bothwellhaugh received from his 
 ! clan in effecting his purpose.— Scott. 
 
 roperty of the 
 idrews, a natural brother to the 
 !t, and uncle to Bothwellhaugh. 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 TSJa 
 
 h'm to move very slowly, gave the assassin time 
 to take so true an aim, that he shot him, with 
 a single bullet, through the lower part of his 
 belly, and killed the horse of a gentleman who 
 rode on his other side. His followers instantly 
 endeavoured to break into the house, whence the 
 blow had come ; but they found the door strongly 
 barricaded, and, before it could be forced open, 
 Hamilton had mounted a fleet horse, * which 
 stood ready for him at a back passage, and was 
 got far beyond their reach. The regent died the 
 same night of his wound.' — History of Scotland, 
 book v. 
 
 " Bothwellhaugh rode straight to Hamilton, 
 where he was received in triumph ; for the ashes 
 of the houses in Clydesdale, which had been 
 burned by Murray's army, were yet smoking ; 
 and party prejudice, the habits of the age, and 
 the enormity of the provocation, seemed, to his 
 kinsmen, to justify his deed. Aftera short abode 
 at Hamilc n, this fierce and determined man left 
 Scotland, and served in France, under the pa- 
 tronage of the family of Guise, to whom he was 
 doubtless recommended by having avenged the 
 cause of their niece, Queen Mary, upon her un- 
 grateful brother. De Thou has recorded, that an 
 attempt was made to engage him to assassinate 
 Gaspar de Coligni, the famous admiral of France, 
 and the buckler of the Huguenot cause. But the 
 character of Bothwellhaugh was mistaken. He 
 was no mercenary trader in blood, and rejected 
 the offer with contempt and indignation. He 
 had no authority, he said, from Scotland, to 
 commit murders in France ; he had avenged his 
 own just quarrel, but he would neither, for price 
 nor prayer, avenge that of another man. — Thu- 
 anus, cap. 46. 
 
 " The regent's death happened 23d January, 
 1569. It is applauded or stigmatized, by contem- 
 porary historians, according to their religious or 
 party prejudices. The triumph of Blackwood is 
 unbounded. He not only extols the pious feat of I 
 Bothwellhaugh, 'who,' he observes, 'satisfied, 
 with a single ounce of lead, him, whose sacrile- 
 gious avar.ce had stripped the metropolitan 
 church of St Andrews of its covering :' but he 
 ascribes it to immediate divine inspiration, and 
 the escape of Hamilton to little less than the 
 miraculous interference of the Deity. — Tebb, vol. 
 ii. p. 263. "With equal injustice, it was, by others, 
 
 Dmmendator of 
 
 ^made the ground of a general national reflection ; 
 for, when Mather urged Berney to assassinate 
 Burleigh, and quoted the examples of Poltrot 
 and Bothwellhaugh, the other conspirator an- 
 swered, 'that neyther Poltrot nor Hambleton 
 did attempt their enterpryse, without some rea- 
 son or consideration to lead them to it : as the 
 one, by hyre, and promise of preferment or re- 
 warde ; the other, upon desperate mind of 
 revenge, for a lytle wrong done unto him, as 
 the report goethe, accordinge to the vyle 
 trayterous dysposysyon of the hoole natyon of 
 the Scottes.' " — Murdin's State Papers, voL. i. 
 p. 197.] 
 
 "When princely Hamilton's abode 
 Ennobled Cadyow's Gothic towers, 
 
 The song went round, the goblet flowed, 
 And revel sped the laughing hours. 
 
 Then, thrilling to the harp's gay sound, 
 So sweetly rung each vaulted wall, 
 
 And echoed light the dancer's bound, 
 As mirth and music cheer'd the hall. 
 
 But Cadyow's towers, in ruins laid, 
 And vaults, by ivy mantled o'er, 
 
 Thrill to the music of the 3hade, 
 Or echo Evan's hoarser roar. 
 
 Yet still, of Cadyow's faded fame, 
 You bid me tell a minstrel tale, 
 
 And tune my harp, of Border frame, 
 On the wild banks of Evan dale. 
 
 For thou, from scenes of courtly pride, 
 
 From pleasure's lighter scenes, canst turn, 
 
 To draw oblivion's pall aside, 
 
 And mark the long-forgotten urn. 
 
 Then, noble maid ! at thy command, 
 Again the crumbled halls shall rise ; 
 
 Lo ! as on Evan's banks we stand, 
 The past returns— the present flies.— 
 
 "Where, with the rock's wood-cover'd side, ' 
 Were blended late the ruins green, 
 
 Bise turrets in fantastic pride, 
 
 And feudal banners flaunt between : 
 
 "Where the rude torrent's brawling course 
 
 "Was shagg'd with thorn and tangling sice 
 The ashler buttress braves its force, 
 i And ramparts frown in battled row. 
 
226 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 'Tis night — the shade of keep and spire 
 Obscurely dance on Evan's stream, 
 
 And on the wave the warder's fire 
 Is chequering the moon-light beam. 
 
 Fades slow their light ; the east is grey ; 
 
 The weary warder leaves his tower ; 
 Steeds snort; uncoupled stag-hounds bay, 
 
 And merry hunters quit the bower. 
 
 The draw-bridge falls — they hurry out — 
 Clatters each plank and swinging chain, 
 
 As, dashing o'er, the jovial route 
 
 Urge the shy steed, and slack the rein. 
 
 First of his troop, the chief rode on ; * 
 
 His shouting merry-men throng behind ; 
 
 The steed of princely Hamilton 
 
 Was fleeter than the mountain wind. 
 
 From the thick copse the roe-bucks bound, 
 The startling red -deer scuds the plain, 
 
 For the hoarse bugle's warrior sound 
 
 Has roused their mountain haunts again. 
 
 Through the huge oaks of Evandale, 
 
 Whose limbs a thousand years have worn, 
 
 What sullen roar comes down the gale, 
 And drowns the hunter's pealing horn ? 
 
 Mightiest of all the beasts of chace, 
 
 That roam in woody Caledon, 
 Crashing the forest in his race, 
 
 The Mountain Bull conies thundering on. 
 
 Fierce, on the hunters' quiver'd band, 
 He rolls his eyes of swarthy glow, 
 
 Spurns, with black hoof and horn, the sand, 
 And tosses high his mane of snow. 
 
 Aim'd well, the chieftain's lance has flown ; 
 
 Struggling in blood the tavage lies ; 
 His roar is sunk in hollow groan — 
 
 Sound, merry huntsmen! sound the Pryse ! f 
 
 * The head of the family of Hamilton, at this 
 period, was James, earl of Arran, duke of Chatel- 
 herault, in Fiance, and first pet-.' of the Scottish 
 realm. In 1569, he was appointed by Queen 
 Mary her lieutenant-general in .Scotland, under 
 the singular title of her adopted father. — Scott. 
 
 f Pryse— The note blown at the death of the 
 game. — Scott. 
 
 •Tis noon— against the knotted oak 
 The hunters rest the idle spear; 
 
 Curls through the trees the slender smoke, 
 Where yeomen dight the woodland cheer. 
 
 Proudly the chieftain mark'd his clan, 
 On greenwood lap all careless thrown, 
 
 Yet miss'd his eye the boldest man, 
 That bore the name of Hamilton. 
 
 " Why fills not Bothwellhaugh his place, 
 Still wont our weal and woe to share ? 
 
 Why comes he not our sport to grace ? 
 Why shares he not our hunters' fare ?" 
 
 Stern Claud replied, with darkening face, 
 (Grey Pasley's haughty lord was he) $ 
 
 " At merry feast, or buxom chase, 
 No more the warrior shalt thou see. 
 
 " Few suns have set, since Woodhouselee § 
 Saw BothweUhaugh's bright goblets foam, 
 
 When to his hearths, in social glee, 
 
 The war-worn soldier turn'd him home. 
 
 $ Lord Claud Hamilton, second son of the duke 
 of Chatelherault, and commendator of the abbey 
 of Paisley, acted a distinguished part during the 
 troubles of Queen Mary's reign, and remained 
 unalterably attached to the cause of that unfor- 
 tunate princess. He led the van of her army at 
 the fatal battle of Langside, and was one of the 
 commanders at the Raid of Stirling, which had 
 so nearly given complete success to the queen's 
 faction. He was ancestor of the present marquis 
 of Abercorn. — Scott. 
 
 § This barony, stretching along the banks of 
 the Esk, near Auchendinny, belonged to Both- 
 wellhaugh, in right of his wife. The ruins of the 
 mansion, from whence she was expelled in the 
 brutal manner which occasioned her death, are 
 still to be seen in a hollow glen beside the river. 
 Popular report tenants them with the restless 
 ghost of the lady Bothwellhaugh ; whom, how- 
 ever, it confounds with lady Anne Bothwell, 
 whose Lament is so popular. This spectre is so 
 tenacious of her rights, that, a part of the stones 
 of the ancient edifice having been employed in 
 building or repairing the present Woodhouselee, 
 she has deemed it a part of her privilege to haunt 
 that house also ; and, even of very late years, has 
 excited considerable disturbance and terror among 
 ■ the domestics. This is a more remarkable vindi- 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 227 
 
 '* There, wan from her maternal throes. 
 His Margaret, beautiful and mild, 
 
 Sate in her bower, a pallid rose, 
 
 And peaceful nursed her new-born child. 
 
 " change accurs'd ! past are those days; 
 
 False Murray's ruthless spoilers came, 
 And, for the hearth's domestic blaze, 
 
 Ascends destruction's volumed flame. 
 
 " What sheeted phantom wanders wild, 
 
 "Where mountain Eske through woodland 
 
 Her arms enfold a shadowy child — [flows, 
 
 Oh is it she, the pallid rose ? 
 
 " The wildered traveller sees her glide, 
 And hears her feeble voice with awe — 
 
 ' Revenge,' she cries, ' on Murray's pride ! 
 And woe for injured Bothwellhaugh !' " 
 
 He ceased — and cries of rage and grief 
 Burst mingling from the kindred band, 
 
 And half arose the kindling chief, 
 
 And half unsheath'd his Arran brand. 
 
 But who, o'er bush, o'er stream and rock, 
 Rides headlong, with resistless speed, 
 
 Whcse bloody poniard's frantic stroke 
 Drives to the leap his jaded steed ; * 
 
 "Whose cheek is pale, whose eye-balls glare, 
 As one, some visioned sight that saw, 
 
 Whose hands are boody, loose his hair ? — 
 — 'Tis he ! 'tis he ! 'tis Bothwellhaugh. 
 
 From gory selle, }• and reeling steed, 
 
 Sprung the fierce horseman with a bound, 
 
 And, reeking from the recent deed, 
 He dashed his carbine on the ground. 
 
 cation of the right of ghosts, as the present Wood- 
 houselee, which gives his title to the honourable ' 
 Alexander Fraser Tytler, a senator of the college 
 of justice, is situated on the slope of the Pentland 
 hills, distant at least four miles from her proper 
 abode. She always appears in white, and with 
 her child in her arms. — Scott. 
 
 * Birrel informs us, that Bothwellhaugh, being 
 closely pursued, "after that spur and wand had 
 fail'd hitn, he drew forth his dagger, and strocke 
 his horse behind, whilk caused the horse to leap 
 a very brode stanke (i. e. ditch,) by whilk means 
 he escapit, and gat away from all thv rest of the | 
 horses."— Dirrel's Diary, p. 18.— Scott. 
 
 | Selle — Saddle. A word used by Spenser, and \ 
 other ancient authors. — Scott. ^5 
 
 Sternly he spoke — " 'Tis sweet to hear 
 In good greenwood thcs bugle blown, 
 
 But sweeter to Revenge's ear, 
 To drink a tyrant's dying groan. 
 
 " Your slaughtered quarry proudly trod, 
 At dawning morn, o'er dale and down, 
 
 But prouder base-born Murray rode 
 Thro' old Linlithgow s crowded town. 
 
 " From the wild Border's humbled side, 
 In haughty triumph, marched he, | 
 
 While Knox relaxed his bigot pride, 
 
 And smiled, the traitorous pomp to see. 
 
 " But can stern Power, with all his vaunt, 
 Or Pomp, with all her courtly glare, 
 
 The settled heart of Vengeance daunt, 
 Or change the purpose of Despair ? 
 
 "With hackbut bent, § my secret stand, J 
 Dark as the purposed deed, I chose, 
 
 And marked, where, mingling in his band, 
 Troop'd Scottish pikes and English bows. 
 
 " Dark Morton, girt with many a spear, *j" 
 Murder's foul minion, led the van ; 
 
 And clashed their broad-swor Is in the rear, 
 The wild Macfarlanes' plaided clan. ** 
 
 $ Murray's death took place shortly after an 
 expedition to the borders; which is thus com- 
 memorated by the author of his elegy : 
 
 " So havinj .-tabiischt all thing in this sart, 
 To Liddisdaiil agane he did r^o. t, 
 Throw Ewisdail, Eskdail, and a 1 the daills rode he, 
 And also lay three nights in Canna ie, 
 Whair na prince lay thir hundred yeiris before. 
 Nae thief durst stir, they did him feir so sair ; 
 And, that thay suld na mair thair thift allege, 
 Tureescore and twelf he brocht of them in pledge, 
 Syne wardit thame, whilk maid the rest keep ordour, 
 Than m\cht the rasch-bus keep ky on the bordmir." 
 Scottish Poems, 16th century, p. 232. — Scott. 
 
 § Hackbut Lent — Gun cock'd. 
 
 || The carbine, with which the regent was shot, 
 is preserved at Hamilton palace. It is a brass 
 piece, of a middling length, very small in the 
 bore, and, what is rather extraordinary, appears 
 to have been rifled or indented in the barrel. It 
 had a match-lock, for which a modern fire-lock 
 has been injudiciously substituted. — Scott. 
 
 •f Of this noted person, it is enough to say, 
 that he was active in the murder of David Rizzio, 
 and at least privy to that of Darnley. — Scott. 
 
 ** This clan of Lennox Highlanders were at- 
 
228 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 "Glencairn and stout Parkhead were nigh,* 
 Obsequious at their regent's rein, 
 
 And haggard Lindesay's iron eye, 
 That saw fair Mary weep in vain. \ 
 
 "'Mid pennon'd spears a steely grove, 
 Proud Murray's plumage floated high ; 
 
 tached to the regent Murray. Holinshed, speak- 
 ing of the battle of Langsyde, says, " in this 
 batayle the valiaacie of an heiland gentleman, 
 named Macfarlane, stood the regent's part in 
 great steede ; for, in the hottest brunte of the 
 fighte, he came up with two hundred of his 
 friendes and countrymen, and so manfully gave 
 in upon the flankes of the queen's people, that 
 he was a great cause of the disordering of them. 
 This Macfarlane had been lately before, as I have 
 heard, condemned to die, for some outrage by 
 him committed, and obtayning pardon through 
 suyte of the countess of Murray, he recompenced 
 that clemencie by this piece of service no w at this 
 batayle." Calderwood'saccount is less favourable 
 to the Macfarlanes. He states that Macfarlane, 
 with his highlandmen, fled from the wing where 
 they were set. The lord Lindsay, who stood 
 nearest to them in the regent's battle, said, ' Let 
 them go ! 1 shall fill their place better :' and so, 
 stepping forward, with a company of fresh men, 
 charged the enemy, whose spears were now 
 spent, with long weapons, so that they were 
 driven back by force, being before almost over- 
 thrown by the avaunt-guard and harquebusiers, 
 and so were turned to flight." — Calderwood's MS. 
 apud Keith, p. 480. Melville mentions the flight 
 of the vanguard, but states it to have been com- 
 manded by Morton, and composed chiefly of 
 commoners of the barony of Renfrew. — Scott. 
 
 * The earl of Glencairn was a steady adherent 
 of the regent. George Douglas of Parkhead was 
 a natural brother of the earl of Morton, whose 
 horse was killed by the same ball by which Mur- 
 ray fell.— Scott. 
 
 f Lord Lindsay, of the Byres, was the most 
 ferocious and brutal of the regent's faction, and, 
 as such, wasemployed to extort Mary's signature 
 to the deed of resignation presented to her in 
 Lochlevin castle. He discharged his commission 
 with the most savage rigour : and it is even said, 
 that when the weeping captive, in the act of 
 signing, averted her eyes from the fatal deed, he 
 pinched her arm with the grasp of his iron glove. 
 
 <& Scarce could his trampling charger move, 
 So close the minions crowded nigh. $ 
 
 J " From the raised vizor's shade, his eye, 
 Dark-rolling, glanced the ranks along, 
 And his steel truncheon, waved on high, 
 Seem'd marshalling the iron throng. 
 
 " But yet his sadden'd brow confess'd 
 A passing shade of doubt and awe ; 
 
 Some fiend was whispering in his breast, 
 ' Beware of injured Bothwellhaugh !' 
 
 " The death-shot parts — the charger springs- 
 Wild rises tumult's startling roar! 
 
 And Murray's plumy helmet rings — 
 — Rings on the ground, to rise no more. 
 
 " What joy the raptured youth can feel, 
 To hear her love the loved one tell. 
 
 Or he, who broaches on his steel 
 The wolf, by whom his infant fell ! 
 
 " But dearer, to my injured eye, 
 To see in dust proud Murray roll ; 
 
 And mine was ten times trebled joy, 
 To hear him groan his felon soul. 
 
 " My Margaret's spectre glided near ; 
 
 With pride her bleeding victim saw ; 
 And shrieked in his death-deafen'd ear, 
 
 'Remember injured Bothwellhaugh !' 
 
 " Then speed thee, noble Chatlerault ! 
 
 Spread to the wind thy bann-ared tree ! 
 Each warrior bend his Clydesdale bow ! — 
 
 Murray is fallen, and Scotland free." 
 
 Vaults every warrior to his steed ; 
 
 Loud bugles join their wild acclaim — 
 " Murray is fallen, and Scotland freed ! 
 
 Couch, Arran ! couch thy spear of flame !" 
 
 % Not only had the regent notice of the in- 
 tended attempt upon his life, but even of the 
 very house from which it was threatened. With 
 that infatuation, at which men wonder, after 
 such events have happened, he deemed it would 
 be a sufficient precaution to ride briskly past the 
 dangerous spot. But even this was prevented 
 by the crowd : so that Bothwellhaugh had time 
 to take a deliberate aim. — Spottiswoode, p. 233. 
 Buchanan . — Scott. 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 229 
 
 tut, see ! the minstrel vision fails — 
 
 The glimmering spears are seen no more 
 
 The shouts of war die on the gales, 
 Or sink in Evan's lonely roar. 
 
 For the loud bugle, pealing high, 
 
 The blackbird whistles down the vale, 
 
 And sunk in ivied ruins lie 
 
 The banner'd towers of Evandale. 
 
 For chiefs, intent on bloody deed, 
 
 And Vengeance, shouting o'er the slain, 
 
 Lo ! high-born Beauty rules the steed, 
 Or graceful guides the silken rein. 
 
 And long may Peace and Pleasure own 
 The maids, who list the minstrel's tale ; 
 
 Nor e'er a ruder guest be known 
 On the fair banks of Evandale ! 
 
 
 [From Buchan's Ballads of the North. Frag- 
 ments of this are to be found in some song collec- 
 tions, but here we have it complete. — " The 
 unfortunate hero of this ballad," says Mr Buehan, 
 "was a factor to the laird of Kinmundy. As 
 the young woman to whom he was to be united 
 in connubial wedlock resided in Gamery, a small 
 fishing town on the east coast of the Murray 
 Frith, the marriage was to be solemnized in the 
 church of that parish, to which he was on his 
 way, when overtaken by some of the heavy 
 breakers which overflow a part of the road he 
 had to pass, and dash, with impetuous fury, 
 against the lofty and adamantine rocks with 
 which it is skirted. The young damsel, in her 
 fifteenth year, also met with a watery grave, 
 being the wages of her mother's malison. This 
 ballad will remind the reader of the Drowned 
 Lovers, who shared the same fate in the river 
 Clyde."] 
 
 " Willie is fair, and Willie is rare, 
 And Willie is wond'rous bonnie; 
 
 And Willie says he'll marry me, 
 Gin ever he marry ony." 
 
 " 0, ye'se get James, or ye'se get George, 
 Or ye'se get bonnie Johnnie ; 
 
 Ye'se get the flower o' a' my sons, 
 Gin ye'll forsake my Willie." 
 
 " 0, what care I for James or George, 
 
 Or yet for bonnie Peter ? 
 I dinna value their love a leek, 
 
 An' I getna Willie the writer. 
 
 " 0, Willie has a bonnie hand, 
 
 And dear but it is bonnie ; 
 He has nae mair for a' his land, 
 
 What wou'd ye do wi' Willie ?" 
 
 "O, Willie has a bonnie face, 
 And dear but it is bonnie ; 
 But Willie has nae other grace, 
 What wou'd ye do wi' Willie ? 
 
 "Willie's fair, and Willie's rare, 
 
 And Willie's wond'rous bonnie ; 
 There's nane wi' him that can compare, 
 I love him best of ony." 
 
 On Wednesday, that fatal day, 
 
 The people were convening ; 
 Besides all this, threescore and ten, 
 
 To gang to the bridestool wi' him. 
 
 "Ride on, ride on, my merry men a', 
 I've forgot something behind me ; 
 
 I've forgot to get my mother's blessing, 
 To gae to the bridestool wi' me." 
 
 " Your Peggy she's but bare fifeteen, 
 And ye are scarcely twenty ; 
 
 The water o' Gamery is wide and braid, 
 My heavy curse gang wi' thee !" 
 
 Then they rode on, and further on, 
 Till they came on to Gamery ; 
 
 The wind was loud, the stream was proud 
 And wi' the stream gaed Willie. 
 
 Then they rode on, and further on, 
 Till they came to the kirk o' Gamery ; 
 
 And every one on high horse sat, 
 But Willie's horse rade toomly. 
 
 When they were settled at that place, 
 The people fell a mourning ; 
 
 And a council held amo' them a', 
 But sair, sair wept Kinmundy. 
 
230 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 Then ont it speaks the bride hersel', 
 
 Says, " What means a' this mourning ? 
 
 Where is the man amo' them a', 
 That should gi'e me fair wedding ?" 
 
 Then out it speaks his brother John, 
 Says, " Meg, I'll tell you plainly, 
 
 The stream was strong, the clerk rade wrong, 
 And Willie's drown'd in Gamery." 
 
 She put her hand up to her head, 
 
 Where were the ribbons many ; 
 She rave them a', let them down fa', 
 
 And straightway ran to Gamery. 
 
 She sought it up, she sought it down, 
 
 Till she was wet and weary; 
 And in the middle part o' it, 
 
 There she got her deary. 
 
 Then she stroak'd back his yellow hair, 
 And kiss'd his mou' sae comely ; 
 
 " My mother's heart's be as wae as thine, 
 We'se baith sleep in the water o' Gamery." 
 
 [The story of this ballad is the same with that 
 of " Little Musgrave and Lord Barnard,'-' in Dr 
 Percy's Reliques, here altered by reciters to the 
 meridian of Ar.gus-shire.] 
 
 " I have a tower in Dalisberry, 
 
 Which now is dearly dight, 
 And 1 will gi'e it to young Musgrave 
 
 To lodge wi' me a' night." 
 
 " To lodge wi' thee a' night, fair lady, 
 Wad breed baith sorrow and strife, 
 
 For I see by the rings on your fingers, 
 You're good Lord Barnaby's wife." 
 
 " Lord Barnaby's wife although I be, 
 
 Yet what is that to thee > 
 For we'll beguile him for this ae night— 
 
 He's on to fair Dundee. 
 
 " Come here, come here, my little foot-page, 
 
 This gold I will give to thee, 
 If ye will keep thir secrets close 
 
 'Tween young Musgrave and me. 
 
 " But here I have a little penknife, 
 Hangs low down by my gare ; 
 
 Gin ye winna keep thir secrets close, 
 Ye'll find it wonder sair." 
 
 Then she's ta'en him to her chamber, 
 And down in her arms lay he : — 
 
 The boy coost aft" his hose and shoon, 
 And ran to fair Dundee. 
 
 When he cam' to the wan water, 
 He slaek'd his bow and swam ; 
 
 And when he cam' to growin' grass, 
 Set down his feet and ran. 
 
 And when he cam' to fair Dundee, 
 
 Wad neither chap nor ca' ; 
 But set his brent bow to his breast, 
 
 And merrily jump'd the wa\ 
 
 " O waken ye, waken ye, my good lord, 
 
 Waken, and come away !" 
 "What ails, what ails my wee foot-page. 
 
 He cries sae lang ere day. 
 
 "O is my bowers brent, my boy ? 
 
 Or is my castle won ? 
 Or has the lady that I lo'e best 
 
 Brought me a daughter or son ?" 
 
 " Your ha's are safe, your bowers are safe, 
 
 And free frae all alarms ; 
 But, oh ! the lady that ye lo'e best 
 
 Lies sound in Musgrave's arms." 
 
 " Gae saddle to me the black," he cried, 
 
 " Gae saddle to me the gray ; 
 Gae saddle to me the swiftest steed, 
 
 To hie me on my way."— 
 
 " lady, I heard a wee horn toot, 
 
 And it blew wonder clear; 
 And ay the turning o' the note, 
 
 Was ' Barnaby will be here !' 
 
 " I thought I heard a wee horn blaw, 
 
 And it blew loud and high ; 
 And ay at ilka turn it said, 
 
 ' Away, Musgrave, away !' " 
 
 " Lie still, my dear ; lie still, my dear ; 
 
 Ye keep me frae the cold ; 
 For it is but my father's shepherds 
 
 Driving their flocks to the fold." 
 
— TTzr. — 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLABS. 231 
 
 Up they lookit, and down they lay, 4fe 
 
 And they're fa'en sound asleep ; 
 
 
 Till up stood good Lord Barnaby, 
 Just close at their bed feet. 
 
 ®je €hxk'$ tfoa jbowjs o' 
 
 " How do you like my bed, Musgrave ? 
 
 ■Sfctfenfoifo. 
 
 And how like ye my sheets ? 
 
 
 And how like ye my fair lady, 
 
 [This affecting and highly poetical ballad is 
 
 Lies in your arms and sleeps ?" 
 
 given in Mr Chambers' Collection, chiefly from 
 
 
 the recitation of his grandmother, assisted by a 
 
 " Weel like I your bed, my lord, 
 
 fragment in the Border Minstrelsy, called " The 
 
 And weel like I your sheets ; 
 
 Wife of Usher's Well," and Mr Buchan's ver- 
 
 But ill like I your fair lady, 
 
 sion of the ballad.] 
 
 Lies in my arms and sleeps." 
 
 
 
 Part First. 
 
 " You got your wale o' se'en si3ters, 
 
 
 And I got mine o' five; 
 
 I will sing to you a sang, 
 
 Sae tak' ye mine, and l's tak' thine, 
 
 Will grieve your heart full sair ; 
 
 And we nae mair sail strive." 
 
 How the Clerk's twa sons o" Owsenford 
 
 
 Have to learn some unco lear. 
 
 " 0, my woman's the best woman 
 
 
 That ever brak' world's bread ; 
 
 They hadna been in fair Parish,* 
 
 And your woman's the warst woman 
 
 A twelvemonth and a day, 
 
 That ever drew coat o'er head." 
 
 Till the Clerk's twa sons fell deep in love, 
 
 
 Wi' the Mayor's dauchters twae. 
 
 " I ha'e twa swords in ae scabbert, 
 
 
 They are taith sharp and clear : 
 
 And aye as the twa clerks sat and wrote, 
 
 Tak' ye the best, and I the warst, 
 
 The ladies sewed and sang; 
 
 And we'll end the matter here. 
 
 There was mair mirth in that chamber, 
 
 
 Than in a' fair Ferrol's land. 
 
 " But up, and arm thee, young Musgrave, 1 
 
 
 We'll try it nan' to han' ; 
 
 But word's gane to the michty Mayor, 
 
 It's ne'er be said o' Lord Barnaby, 
 
 As he sailed on the sea, 
 
 He strack at a naked man." 
 
 That the Clerk's twa sons made licht lemans 
 
 
 0' his fair dauchters twae. 
 
 The first straik that young Musgrave got, 
 
 
 It was baith deep and sair; 
 
 " If they ha'e wranged my twa dauchters, 
 
 And down he fell at Barnaby's feet, 
 
 Janet and Maijorie, 
 
 And a word spak' never mair. 
 
 The morn, ere I taste meat or drink, 
 
 
 Hie hangit they shall be." 
 
 " A grave, a grave !" Lord Barnaby cried, 
 
 
 " A grave to lay them in ; 
 
 And word's gane to the Clerk himself, 
 
 My lady shall lie on the sunny side, 
 
 As he was drinking wine, 
 
 Because of her noble kin." 
 
 That his twa sons at fair Parish 
 
 
 Weie bound in prison Strang. 
 
 But oh, how sorry was that good lord, 
 
 
 For a' his angry mood, 
 
 Then up and spak* the Clerk's ladye. 
 
 Whan he beheld his ain young son 
 
 And she spak' tenderlie : 
 
 AU welt'ring in his blood ! 
 
 " tak' wi' ye a purse o' gowd, 
 
 
 Or even tak' ye three ; 
 
 
 And if ye canna get William, 
 
 ^ 
 
 Bring Henry hame to me." 
 
 } * Pari*. 
 

 
 
 232 SCOTTISH 
 
 | 
 BALLADS. 
 
 
 O sweetly sang the nightingale, <& He's ta 'en a whip into his hand, 
 
 
 
 As she sat on the wand ; 
 
 And lash'd them wond'rous sair: 
 
 
 
 But sair, sair mourned Owsenford, 
 
 " Gae to your bowers, ye vile limine; s. 
 
 
 
 As he gaed in the strand. 
 
 Ye'se never see them ma ! T." 
 
 
 
 When he came to their prison Strang, 
 
 Then out it speaks auld Owsenford ; 
 
 
 
 He rade it round about, 
 
 A sorry man was he : 
 
 
 
 And at a little shot-window, 
 
 " Gang to your bouirs, ye lilye flouirs ; 
 
 
 
 His sons were looking out. 
 
 For a' this maunna be." 
 
 
 
 " lie ye there, my sons," he said, 
 
 Then out it speaks him Hynde Henry : 
 
 
 
 " For owsen or for kye ? 
 
 "Come here, Janet, to me; 
 
 
 
 Or what is it that ye lie for, 
 
 Will ye gi'e me my faith and troth, 
 
 
 
 Sae sair bound as ye lie ?" 
 
 And luve, as 1 ga'e thee ?" 
 
 
 
 " We lie not here for owsen, father; 
 
 " Ye 6all ha'e your faith and troth, 
 
 
 
 Nor yet do we for kye ; 
 
 Wi' God's blessing and mine." 
 
 
 
 But it's for a little o' dear-boucht love, 
 
 And twenty times she kissed his mouth, 
 
 
 
 Sae sair bound as we lie. 
 
 Her father looking on. 
 
 
 
 " Oh, borrow us, borrow us,* father," they 
 said, 
 " For the luve we bear to thee !" 
 
 Then out it speaks him gay William, 
 "Come here, sweet Marjorie; 
 
 
 
 Will ye gi'e me my faith and troth, 
 
 
 
 " never fear, my pretty sons, 
 
 And love, as 1 ga'e thee ?" 
 
 
 
 Weel borrowed ye sail be." 
 
 " Yes, ye sail ha'e your faith and troth, 
 Wi' God's blessing and mine." 
 
 
 
 Then he's gane to the michty Mayor, 
 
 And twenty times she kissed his mouth, 
 
 
 
 And he spak' courteouslie ; 
 
 Her father looking on. 
 
 
 
 " Will ye grant my twa sons' lives, 
 
 
 
 
 Either for gold or fee ? 
 
 " ye'll tak' aft* your twa black hats. 
 
 
 
 Or will ye be sae gude a man, 
 
 Lay them down on a stone, 
 
 
 
 As grant them baith to me ?" 
 
 That nane may ken that ye are clerks, 
 Till ye are putten doun."f 
 
 
 
 " I'll no grant ye your twa sons' lives, 
 
 
 
 
 Neither for gold nor fee; 
 
 The bonnie clerks they died that morn ; 
 
 
 
 Nor will I be sae gude a man, 
 
 Their loves died lang ere noon ; 
 
 
 
 As gi'e them baith to thee; 
 
 And the waefu' Clerk o' Owsenford 
 
 
 
 But before the morn at twal o'clock, 
 
 To his lady has gane name. 
 
 
 
 Ye'll see them hangit hie!" 
 
 Part Second. 
 
 
 
 Ben it came the Mayor's dauchters, 
 
 
 
 
 Wi' kirtle coat alone ; 
 
 His lady sat on her castle wa', 
 
 
 
 Their eyes did sparkle like the gold, 
 
 Beholding dale and doun ; 
 
 
 
 As they tripped on the stone. 
 
 And there she saw her ain gude lord 
 Come walking to the tout). 
 
 
 
 " Will ye gi'e us our loves, father ? 
 
 
 
 
 For gold or yet for fee i> 
 
 " Ye're welcome, ye're welcome, my ain gude 
 
 
 
 Or will ye take our own sweet lives, 
 
 Ye 're welcome hame to me ; [lord, 
 
 
 
 And let our true loves be 't 
 
 But whereaway are my twa sons ? 
 Ye suld ha'e brought them wi' ye." 
 
 i 
 
 : 
 
 * Ransom. < 
 
 B | Put to death. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 233 
 
 
 " they are putten to a deeper lear. & it's they've ta'en up their mother's mantil, 
 
 
 
 And to a higher scule : 
 
 And they've hung it on a pin : 
 
 
 
 Your ain twa sons will no be hame 
 
 " lang may ye hing, my mother's mantil, 
 
 
 
 Till the hallow days o' Yule." 
 
 Ere ye hap us again." 
 
 
 
 " eorrow, sorrow, come mak' my bed ; 
 
 
 
 
 And dule, come, lay me doun ; 
 
 ■ 
 
 
 
 For I will neither eat nor drink, 
 
 
 
 
 Nor set a fit on groun' !" 
 
 @]&e ©u&e SEallaa, 
 
 
 
 The hallow days o' Yule were come, 
 
 
 
 
 And the nights were lang and mirk, 
 
 [A fragment of this originally appeared in 
 
 
 
 When in and cam' her ain twa sons, 
 
 
 
 And their hats made o' the birk. 
 
 Johnson's Museum. It is here extended from 
 two copies given by Mr Buchan. The subject of 
 
 
 
 It neither grew in syke nor ditch, 
 Nor yet in ony sheuch ; 
 
 the ballad will be found in the 5th book of 
 
 
 
 Henry the Minstrel's Wallace.] 
 
 
 
 But at the gates o' Paradise 
 
 
 
 
 That birk grew fair eneuch. 
 
 Wallace wicht, upon a nicht, 
 Cam' riding ower a linn; 
 
 
 
 " Blow up the fire, now, maidens mine, 
 
 And he is to his leman's bouir, 
 
 
 
 Bring water from the well; 
 
 And tirl'd at the pin. 
 
 
 
 For a' my house shall feast this night. 
 
 
 
 
 Since my twa sons are well. 
 
 " sleep ye, or wake ye, lady ?" he cried ; 
 " Ye'U rise and let me in." 
 
 
 
 " eat and drink, my merry -men a', 
 
 " wha is this at my bouir door, 
 
 
 
 The better shall ye fare ; 
 
 That knocks and knows my name f" 
 
 
 
 For my twa sons they are cume hame 
 
 " My name is William Wallace ; 
 
 
 
 To me for evermair." 
 
 Ye may my errand ken." 
 
 
 
 And she has gane and made their bed, 
 
 " The truth to you I will rehearse— 
 
 
 
 She's made it saft and fine ; 
 
 The secret I'll unfauld ; 
 
 
 
 And she's happit them wi' her gay mantil, 
 
 Into your enemies' hands, this nicht, 
 
 
 
 Because they were her ain.* 
 
 I fairly ha'e you sauld." 
 
 
 
 But the young cock crew in the merry Lin- 
 
 " If that be true ye tell to me, 
 
 
 
 And the wild fowl chirped for day ; [kum, 
 
 Bo ye repent it sair?" 
 
 
 
 And the aulder to the younger said, 
 
 " Oh, that I do," she said, " dear Wallace, 
 
 
 
 " Brother, we maun away. 
 
 And will do evermair ! 
 
 
 
 " The cock doth craw, the day doth daw, 
 
 " The English did surround my house, 
 
 
 
 The channerin worm doth chide ; 
 
 And forcit me theretill ; 
 
 
 
 Gin we be missed out o' our place, 
 
 But for your sake, my dear Wallace, 
 
 
 
 A sair pain we maun bide." 
 
 I could burn on a hill." 
 
 
 
 " Lie still, lie still a little wee while, 
 
 Then he ga'e her a loving kiss; 
 
 
 
 Lie still but if we may ; 
 
 The teir drapt frae his e'e ; 
 
 
 
 Gin my mother should miss us when she 
 
 Says, " Fare ye weel for evermair; 
 
 
 
 She'll gae mad ere it be day." [wakes, 
 
 Your face nae mair I'll see." 
 She dress'd him in her ain claithing, 
 
 
 * Variation in the Border Minstrelsy : — 
 
 
 And slie has made to them a bed, 
 
 She's made il large and wide ; 
 And she's ta'en her mantel her about, 
 
 And frae her house he came ; 
 J Which made the Englishmen admire 
 
 
 
 Sat down at the bed side. < 
 
 6 To see sic a stalwart dame 1 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
234 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 Now "Wallace to the Hielands went, < 
 
 Where nae meat nor drink had he ; 
 
 Said, " Fa' me life, or fa' me death, 
 To some toun I maun drie." 
 
 He steppit ower the river Tay — 
 On the North Inch* steppit he ; 
 
 And there he saw a weel-faured May, 
 Was washing aneath a tree. 
 
 " What news, what news, ye weel-faured 
 What news ha'e ye to me ? [May ? 
 
 What news, what news, ye weel-faured May, 
 What news in the south countrie ?" 
 
 " O see ye, sir, yon hostler-house 
 
 That stands on yonder plain ? 
 This very day have landit in. it 
 
 Full fifteen Englishmen, 
 
 " In search of Wallace, our champion, 
 
 Intending he should dee !" 
 "Then, by my sooth," says Wallace wicht, 
 
 " These Englishmen i'se see. 
 
 " If I had but in my pocket 
 
 The worth of a single pennie, 
 I wad gang to the hostler-house, 
 
 These gentlemen to see." 
 
 She put her hand in her pocket, 
 
 And pull'd out half-a-croun, 
 Says, " Tak' ye that, ye beltit knicht, 
 
 And pay your lawin doun." 
 
 As he went frae the weel-faured May, 
 
 A beggar bold met he, 
 Was cover'd wi' a clouted cloke, 
 
 In, his hand a trustie tree. 
 
 " What news, what news, ye silly auld 
 man? 
 
 What news ha'e ye to gie ?" 
 " No news, no news, ye beltit knicht, 
 
 No news ha'e I to thee, 
 But fifteen lords in the hostler-house 
 
 Waiting Wallace for to see." 
 
 " Ye'll lend to me your clouted cloke, 
 That kivers ye frae heid to shie ; 
 
 And I'll go to the hostler-house, 
 To ask for some supplie." 
 
 * A beautiful plain, or common, lying along 
 the Tay, near Perth.— Chambers. 
 
 Now he's gane to the West-muir wood, 
 
 And pulled a trustie trie ; 
 And then he's on to the hostler gone, 
 
 Asking there for charitie. 
 
 Doun the stair the captain comes, 
 
 The puir man for to see : 
 " If ye be captain as gude as ye look, 
 
 You'll give me some supplie." 
 
 " Where were ye born, ye cruikit carle ? 
 
 Where, and in what countrie f" 
 " In fair Scotland, sir, was I born, 
 
 Cruikit carle as ye ca' me." 
 
 "01 wad give you fifty pounds 
 
 Of gold and white monie ; 
 O I wad give you fifty pounds, 
 
 If Wallace ye would let me see." 
 
 " Tell doun your money," quo' the cruikit 
 " Tell doun your money good ; [carle, 
 
 I'm sure I have it in my pouir, 
 And never had a better bode." 
 
 The money was told upon the table, 
 
 Of silver pounds fiftie : 
 " Now here I stand !" quo' the gude Wallace, 
 
 And his cloke frae him gar'd Hie. 
 
 He slew the captain where he stood ; 
 
 The rest they did quake and rair : 
 He slew the rest around the room ; 
 
 Syne ask'd if there were ony mair. 
 
 "Get up, get up, gudewife," he says, 
 " And get me some dinner in haste ,- 
 
 For it soon will be three lang days time, 
 Sin' a bit o' meat 1 did taste !" 
 
 The dinner was na weil readie, 
 
 IS or yet on the table set, 
 When other fifteen Englishmen 
 
 Were lichtit at the yett. 
 
 " Come out, come out, thou traitor, Wallace 
 
 This is the day ye maun dee !'' 
 " I lippen nae sae little to God," he says, 
 
 " Although I be but ill wordie." 
 
 The gudewife had an auld guileman; 
 
 By gude Wallace he stiffly stude, 
 Till ten o' the fifteen Englishmen 
 
 Lay before the door in their blude. 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 235 
 
 The other five he took alive, 
 
 To the greenwood as they ran ; 
 And he has hanged them, bot mercie, 
 
 Up hich upon a grain. 
 
 Now he is on to the North Inch gone, 
 Where the May was washing tenderlie. 
 
 " Now, by my sooth," said the gude Wallace, 
 " It's been a sair day's wark to me." 
 
 He's put his hand in bis pocket, 
 And pulled out twenty pounds ; 
 
 Says, " Tak' ye that, ye weel-faured May, 
 For the gude luck o' your half-croun." 
 
 Full five-and-twenty men he slew, 
 
 Five hanged upon a grain ; 
 On the morn he sat, wi' his merry-men a', 
 
 In Lochmaben toun at dine. 
 
 THE GUDE WALLACE. 
 
 [This is a modern extension by Mr Jamieson, 
 of a fragment given in Johnson's Museum. The 
 fragment, along with the melody, was taken 
 down by Burns from oral communication, and 
 transmitted to the Museum. The heroic Wal- 
 lace was doubtless the subject of many ballads 
 and songs which have been lost in the lapse of 
 ages.] 
 
 The Wallace wicht, wi' his merry men a', 
 Frae Striveling is southward gane ; 
 
 And he's got word that the Earl Percy 
 Was out wi' sax thousand Englishmen. 
 
 His menyie he's left i' the gude green wood, 
 To rest frae the heat by the greenwood tree ; 
 
 His menyie he's left wi' the trusty Graham, 
 And he's gane to scout in the south countrie. 
 
 The Wallace out over yon river he lap, 
 And fast he hied him over yon lee, 
 
 Till, at a well washin' her claes, 
 He was aware of a fair ladie. 
 
 And ay as she wush, she sabbit sair, 
 
 And her cheeks the saut tear ay did weet : 
 
 " What tidins, what tidins, fair ladie ?" he said; 
 " Or what ails thee to gar thee greet ? 
 
 " Mair meet it were in princely bower, 
 Wi' noblest feres thy youth should won ; 
 
 It rewis my heart, a flower sae meek 
 Misaunteris bub should blaw upon ! 
 
 " Thir cheeks should rosy dimples wear, 
 Thir een should shine wi' love and glee"— 
 
 " Och lang," the lady sich'd and said, 
 " Has joy been strange in this countrie. 
 
 " My father they kill'd, they kill'd my bri- 
 ther, 
 
 They herryit our fald, and brent our ha' ; 
 Me they've — ochon ! my heart will brak! — 
 
 My true love to England's reft awa'. 
 
 " Yet hope, gin Wallace had thriven, I had, 
 
 That I my lemman yet mat see, 
 Revenge on Cressingham to wrack. 
 
 For a' the wrangs he's gart me dree. 
 
 " But Piercy, wi' the fause earl Warren, 
 And Cressingham (ill mat he speed!) 
 
 Are dackerin' wi' sax thousand mair, 
 Frae Coupar to Berwick upon Tweed. 
 
 "And down in yon wee ostler house 
 Now ligs full fyfteen English Strang, 
 
 And they are seekin' the gude Wallace, 
 Its him to tak', and him to hang." 
 
 " There's nought in my purse," quo' gude 
 Wallace, 
 
 " Sma' spulyie ha'e they to get frae me ; 
 But 1 will down to yon wee ostler house, 
 
 Thir fyfteen Englishmen to see. 
 
 " I've but this brand; wi' whilk, God will, 
 I'll mak' them sic cheer as I dow" — 
 
 " Sae God thee speed," said the ladie fair, 
 " And send us ten thousand sic as you ;" 
 
 And whan he cam' to yon wee ostler house, 
 
 He bade benedicite be there ; 
 The gude-wife said, " Ye're welcome, c me 
 ben, 
 
 Mair welcome, I wat, nor twa 'r three n air. 1 
 
 The gude-man syne came in frae the hill, 
 A braw fat gimmer upon his back ; 
 
 He ferlied to see that strange menzie, 
 Sic cheer and mows at his ingle mak' 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 23 G SCOTTISH 
 
 BALLADS. 
 
 
 " Ye're hamelie fallows, to be sae frem ! A He hat the proud captain alang the chaft blade. 
 
 
 
 I brew'd nae browst for'kettrin like ye ; 
 
 That never a bit o' meal he ate mair ; 
 
 
 
 God send the days puir Scotland has seen, 
 
 j He stickit the lai ve at the buird whare they s;i t, 
 
 
 
 And a bitter browst to you 'twill be !" 
 
 And he left them a' lyin' sprawlin" there. 
 
 
 
 " Welcome, auld carl !" said the captain ; 
 
 j " Sae God me shield," said the gude Wallace, 
 
 
 
 " Auld cruikit carl, wi' your fat yow ; 
 
 " Though hard bested, I've done wi' thae ; 
 
 
 
 It weel will saur wi' the eude brown yill ; 
 
 j Sae God me shield," said the gude Wallace, 
 
 
 
 And tbe four spawls o't I wat we's cow." 
 
 " And send me as mony sothroun mae." 
 
 
 
 " The spawls o' it gin ye should cow, 
 
 , Bumbazed the gude-man glowr'd a wee, 
 
 
 
 111 will I thole to brook the wrang, 
 
 Syne hent the "Wallace by the han' ; 
 
 
 
 But gin I had ye in gude Brae Murray, 
 
 " Its he ! it can be nane but he !" 
 
 
 
 I'd gar ye sing anither sang. 
 
 The gude-wife on her knees had faun. 
 
 
 
 " There Eddert's glaive and Edderfs goud 
 
 " Hale be your hearts, ye couthie twa, 
 
 
 
 Ha'e ettled at thirldome in vain ; 
 
 I'm he, I'm "Wallace, as ye trow ; 
 
 
 
 And sair will England some day rue 
 
 But faut and mister ha'e done mair, 
 
 
 
 The wrangs we've a' frae Eddert ta'en. 
 
 Nor e'er could thae my head to bow. 
 
 
 
 " God red our "Wallace wicht frae harm, 
 
 " Get up, gude-wife, gin Christ ye lave, 
 
 
 
 And send our gude earl Robert here ; 
 
 Some meltith fess to me in haste; 
 
 
 
 For cowart art and lawless rief, 
 
 For it will soon be three lang days 
 
 
 
 We'll soon our score wi' Eddert clear."' 
 
 Sin' I a bit o' meat did taste." 
 
 
 
 " whare was ye born, auld cruikit carl ? 
 
 I wat the gude-wife wasna sla ; 
 
 
 
 Your leed saurs na o' this countrie" — 
 
 But hardly on the buird 'twas set, 
 
 
 
 " A true Murray Scott I'm born and bred, 
 
 Till ither fyfteen Englishmen 
 
 
 
 And an auld cruikit carl just sic as ye 
 
 Were a' lichted about the yett 
 
 
 
 see." 
 
 " Come out, come out, thou fause Wallace, 
 
 
 
 " I'll gi'e fyfteen shillins to thee, cruikit 
 
 For weel we wat that here ye be ; 
 
 
 
 carl, 
 
 Come out, come out, thou traitor Wallace ; 
 
 
 
 For a friend to him ye kythe to me, 
 
 Its o'er late now to flinch or fiee. 
 
 
 
 Gin ye'll tak' me to the wicht Wallace ; 
 
 
 
 
 For up-sides wi'm I mean to be." 
 
 " The tod is ta'en in his hole, Wallace ; 
 This is the day that thou maun die." 
 
 
 
 " I'm but an auld cruikit carl, God wot, 
 
 " I lippen na sae little to God," he says, 
 
 
 
 Stiff and onfeirie to what I've been; 
 
 " Althoch that I be ill wordie." 
 
 
 
 My glaive lang syne was hung o' the knag, 
 
 
 
 
 And three score and five thir haffets ha'e 
 
 The gudeman lap to his braid claymore, 
 
 
 
 seen. 
 
 That hang on the knag aside tbe speir ; 
 A lance the wife hent down frae the bauk, 
 
 
 
 " But leal my heart beats yet, and warm ; 
 
 That aft had shane fu' sharp in weir. 
 
 
 
 Thoch auld onfeirie and lyart I'm now ; 
 
 
 
 
 Were wicht Wallace here, wi' nane but 
 
 His burly brand the "Wallace drew, 
 
 
 
 mysel*, 
 
 And out he braided at the do jr , 
 
 
 
 For a' Eddert's kingdom I wadna be you!" 
 
 His stalwart back he turn'd to the wa", 
 And firmly set his foot before. 
 
 
 
 A rung the Wallace had intill his han', 
 
 
 
 
 A burly kent as well mat be, 
 
 His trusty-true twa-hannit glaive 
 
 
 
 That ance afore redd him frae skaith, 
 
 Afore him swang he manfullie, 
 
 
 
 Whan tellin' his beads by the greenwood 
 
 While anger lucken'd his dark brows. 
 
 
 
 tree. 
 
 n And like a wood- wolf glanst his e'e. 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 237 
 
 
 " Art thou that bousteous bellamy," { 
 
 ^ Agast the sothroun stood a stound : 
 
 
 
 Bowden wi' rage, said the captain; 
 
 Syne hamphis'd him, pele-mele, ane and a', 
 
 
 
 ** That felloun traitor, that sae feil 
 
 And vapourin' wi' burnist swerds, gan shout, 
 
 
 
 douchty Englishmen has slain ? 
 
 "Revenge, revenge! fy, tak' and sla!" 
 
 
 
 "Mat God assoile me, but it glads 
 
 The auld gude-man had the auld man's grip, 
 
 
 
 My hart this tyde to meet thee sae ! 
 
 Thoch nae sae feirie as he had been; 
 
 
 
 My ae brither by the Earn lies dead ; 
 
 Sae steevely he by the Wallace stood, 
 
 
 
 But in thy heart's bluid I'll wrack my 
 wae." 
 
 Were few that to meet his glaive mat grein. 
 And bauld and bardach the gude-wife 
 
 
 
 " I weird thee, to let me be were best ; 
 
 Sae derf couth wield her gude brown spear; 
 
 
 
 Nocht do I grein thy bluid to spill ; 
 
 To fecht for her country and gude-man, 
 
 
 
 Fierce as thy brither was, and fell, 
 
 Could Scotswoman own a woman's fear? 
 
 
 
 Southron, he was thy brither still; 
 
 The first that strak at the gude Wallace, 
 
 
 
 " And laith were I," quoth the gude Wal- 
 
 The auld gude-man shure hi3 craig in twa. 
 
 
 
 lace, 
 
 " Weel doon, my fere '." said the Wallace then ; 
 
 
 
 Lowerin' his glaive in mylder muid, 
 
 " Wi' thee 'twere a shame to tak' to the 
 
 
 
 " To skaith the rueful heart that yearns 
 
 wa'." 
 
 
 
 But to revenge a brither's bluid. 
 
 Syne grippit his brand wi' micht and ire, 
 
 
 
 " Then force na this hand to wirk thy bale, 
 
 And forward throw the press he flang ; 
 
 
 
 But tak" my rede, and lat me gang." 
 
 Sic thuds on ilka side he dealt, 
 
 
 
 " Tyke, by the rude thou 'scapes nat sae !" 
 
 That down to the dead the frieks he dang. 
 
 
 
 And fierce at him the butler sprang. 
 
 Wi' deadly dynts the baldest ten 
 
 
 
 A thud wi' his keen swerd he loot, 
 
 0' the sothroun, that the starkest stuid, 
 
 
 
 To cleave the Wallace to the chin ; 
 
 The wicht Wallace and thir trusty twa 
 
 
 
 But his bonnet, thoch o' the claith without, 
 
 Ha'e laid o' the green dicht in their bluid. 
 
 
 i 
 
 Was o' the trusty steel within. 
 
 The tither five to the green-wood ran ; 
 
 
 
 " Ya, wilt thou ?" said Wallace, " then tak* 
 
 On a grain they hav git them but ransoun ; 
 
 
 
 thee that !" 
 
 And neist day wi' Wallace* merry men a', 
 
 
 
 And derfly strak a dynt sae dour, 
 
 They sat at dine in Lochmaben town. 
 
 
 
 That through the craig and shouther blade 
 
 
 
 
 At ance the trenchand weapon shure. " 
 
 This sword of the good Sir David seems to 
 have been little inferior to the enchanted glaiv- 
 
 
 
 
 * This stroke of the wight Wallace is nothing 
 
 mor of Fingal, so famous in the tales of the 
 
 
 
 to the following: — " One Sir David de Anand, a 
 
 Highlanders, that would by mere dint of its own 
 
 
 
 right valiant knight, chanced to be wounded by 
 
 innate virtue, cut through any thing that was 
 
 
 
 one of the enemies, by reason whereof he was so 
 
 struck with it, and could not be stopt till it 
 
 
 
 kindled in wrathful desire to be revenged, that 
 
 came to the ground. This unlucky propensity in 
 
 
 
 with an axe which he had in his hande, he 
 
 the sword to go farther than was intended, often 
 
 
 
 raughte his adversarie, that had hurt him, suche 
 
 occasioned sad mistakes and accidents, many of 
 
 
 
 a blow on the shoulder, that he clove hym togi- 
 
 which make the ground-work of tales which are 
 
 
 
 ther with his horse, and the axe stayed not till 
 
 still repeated by the winter's evening fire-side. 
 
 
 
 it light upon the verie harde pavement, so as the 
 
 Jamicson, 
 
 
 
 print of the violente stroke remained to be sene 
 
 
 
 
 along tyme after in one of the stones of the same 
 
 
 
 
 pavement."— Holinshed's History of Scotland, F. 
 
 
 
 
 342, 1. : 
 
 > 
 
 
 
 
238 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 HLwcb JftawfciaL 
 
 [In Johnson's Museum, a fragment of this ballad is given, under the title of " Lord Bonald my 
 Son." This fragment was furnished by Burns to that work, along with the air to which it is sung. 
 Burns says that the air is a favourite one in Ayrshire, and supposes that it is the original of Looha- 
 ber. In the Border Minstrelsy, the following more complete version of the ballad is given under 
 the head of " Lord Randal." Scott says, " The hero 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. This great warrior died at Musselburgh, 1332, at the moment 
 when his services were most necessary to his country, already threatened by an English army. For 
 this sole reason, perhaps, our historians obstinately impute his death to poison. See The Bruce, 
 book xx. Fordun repeats, and Boece echoes, this story, both of whom charge the murder on Ed- 
 ward III. But it is combated successfully by Lord Hailes, in his Remarks on the History of Scot- 
 land. The substitution of some venomous reptile for food, or putting it into liquor,, was anciently 
 supposed to be a common mode of administering poison." He adds, " there is a very similar song, 
 which, apparently to excite greater interest in the nursery, the handsome young hunter is ex- 
 changed for a little child, poisoned by a false step-mother." The nursery song to which Sir Walter 
 refers runs as follows. It is called " The Croodlin' Doo, ' (Cooing Pigeon.) 
 
 " Oh, what gat ye at your grandmother's, my little wee croodlin' doo?" 
 " I got a bourne wee fishie, mak' my bed, mammie, noo!" 
 
 "Oh whaur did she catch the fishie, my bonnie wee croodlin' doo?" 
 11 She catch'd it in the gutter-hole, male' my bed, mammie, noo !" 
 
 i' the fish, my little wee croodlin' doo?" 
 pan, oh, mak' my bed, mammie, noo." 
 
 " And what did ye do wi' the banes o't, my bounie wee croodlin' doo?'' 
 " I gied them to my little dog, mak' my bed, mammie, noo." 
 
 In Buchan's Ballads of the North a rhyme very similar to the above is given under the name of 
 " Willy Doo." The subject of the ballad seems to be universally popular in one shape or other. 
 In Illustrations of Northern Antiquities, Mr Jamieson gives the commencement of a Suffolk ver- 
 sion: 
 
 " Where have you been to-day, .Billy my son? 
 "Where have you been to-day, my only man?" 
 " I've been a wooing mother, make my bed soon; 
 For I'm sick at the heart, and fain would lie down." 
 
 " What have you ate to day, Billy, my son ? 
 What have you ate to-day, iny only man?" 
 " I've ate an eel-pie, mother, make my bed Boon; 
 For I'm sick at the heart, and shall die before noon." 
 
 Mr Jamieson also translates, as follows, a German popular ditty, entitled Grossmntter Schlan- 
 genkoechin, i. e. Grandmother Adder-cook. 
 
 " Maria, what room have you been in— Maria, my only child?" 
 " I've been with my grandmother— a'as, lady mother, whatn«in ro 
 " What has she given thee to eat— Maria," &c. 
 " She has given me fried fishes— alas," &c. 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 239 
 
 " Where did she catch the little fishes — Maria," &c. 
 
 " She caught them in the kitchen garden— alas," &c. 
 
 «' With what did she catch the little fishes— Maria." &c. 
 
 « She caught them with rods and little sticks— alas," &c. 
 
 " What did she do with the rest of the fishes— Maria," &c. 
 
 " She gave it to her little dark-brown dog— alas," &c. 
 
 " And what became of the dark-brown dog— Maria," &c. 
 
 " It burst into a thousand pieces — a as," &c. 
 
 " Maria, where shall I make thy bed — Maria, my only child?" 
 
 " In the churchyard shalt thou make my bed — alas, lady mother, what pain 1' 
 
 " where ha'e ye been, Lord Randal, my son ? 
 
 O where ha'e ye been, rny handsome young man ?" 
 
 " I ha'e been to the wild wood ; mother, make my bed soon, 
 
 For I'm weary wi' hunting, and fain wald lie down." 
 
 " "Where gat ye your dinner, Lord Randal, my son ? 
 "Where gat ye jour dinner, my handsome young man ?" 
 " I din'd wi' my true-love ; mother, make my bed soon, 
 For I'm weary wi' hunting, and fain wald lie doivn." 
 
 " What gat ye to your dinner, Lord Randal, my son ? 
 What gat ye to your dinner, my handsome young man ?" 
 " I gat eels boil'd in broo' ; mother, make my bed soon, 
 For I'm weary wi' hunting, and fain wald lie down." 
 
 "What became of your bloodhounds, Lord Randal, my son ? 
 What became of your bloodhounds, my handsome young man ?." 
 " they swell'd and they died ; mother, make my l>ed soon, 
 For I'm weary wi' hunting, and fain wald lie down.-' 
 
 "0 1 fear ye are poison'd, Lord Randal, my son ! 
 O I fear ye are poison'd, my handsome young man!" 
 " O yes! 1 am poison'd; mother, make my bed soon, 
 For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wald lie down.'- 
 
 LORD DONALD. 
 
 [This fuller version of " Lord Randal" is given in Mr Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, Lon- 
 don, 1827. It was procured in the North. "It would 6eem," says Mr Kinloch, "that Lord 
 Donald had been poisoned by eating toads prepared as a dish of fishes. Though the frog is in some 
 Countries considered a delicacy, the toad has always been viewed as a venomous animal. Might 
 not the Scots proverbial phrase, "To gi'e one frogs instead of fish, ' ; aa meaning to substitute what 
 is bad or disagreeable, for expected good, be viewed as allied to the idea of the venomous quality of 
 the toad. J " 
 
 " O wharb ha'e ye been a' day, Lord Donald, my son ? 
 
 O whare ha'e ye been a' day, my jollie young man ?" 
 
 " I've been awa' courtin'; mither, mak' my bed sune, 
 
 For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun." 
 
240 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 " What wad ye ha'e for your supper, Lord Donald, my son ? 
 What wad ye ha'e for your supper, my jollie young man ?" 
 " I've gotten my supper; mither, mak' my bed sune, 
 For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun." 
 
 " What did ye get for your supper, Lord Donald, my son f 
 What did ye get for your supper, my jollie young man ?" 
 " A dish of sma* fishes ; mither, mak' my bed sune, 
 For I'm sick at the heart, and 1 fain wad lie doun." 
 
 " Whare gat ye the fishes, Lord Donald, my son ? 
 Whare gat ye the fishes, my jollie young man ?" 
 " In my father's black ditches ; mither, mak' my bed 
 For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun." 
 
 " What like were your fishes, Lord Donald, my son ? 
 
 What like were your fishes, my jollie young man ?" 
 
 "Black backs and spreckl'd bellies; mither, mak' my bed sune, 
 
 For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun." 
 
 "01 fear ye are poison'd, Lord Donald, my son ! 
 O I fear ye are poison'd, my jollie young man 1" 
 " O yes ! I am poison'd ; mither, mak* my bed sune, 
 For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun." 
 
 " What will ye leave to your father, Lord Donald, my son ? 
 What will ye leave to your father, my jollie young man >" 
 " Baith my houses and land ; mither, mak' my bed sune, 
 For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun." 
 
 " What will ye leave to your brither, Lord Donald, my son ? 
 What will ye leave to your brither, my jollie young man ?" 
 " My horse and the saddle ; mither, mak' my bed sune, 
 For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun." 
 
 "What will ye leave to your sister, Lord Donald, my son ? 
 What will ye leave to your sister, my jollie young man ?" 
 " Baith my gold box and rings ; mither, mak' my bed sune, 
 For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun." 
 
 " What will ye leave to your true-love, Lord Donald, my son ? 
 What will ye leave to your true-love, my jollie young man ?'• 
 " The tow and the halter, for to hang on yon tree, 
 And lat her hang there for the poysoning o' me." 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 241 
 
 
 gk " Yae night, yae night, I dreamt this bower 
 
 
 
 
 C red red bluJe was fu' ; 
 
 
 
 Eawraifetrc. 
 
 Gin ye gang to this black hunting, 
 I sail ha'e cause to rue." 
 
 
 
 [Tite ballad generally called "Lammikin" 
 
 " Wha looks to dreams, my winsome dame ? 
 
 
 
 ■was at one time a popular one throughout Scot- 
 
 Nae cause ha'e ye to fear;" 
 
 
 
 land, and a number of different versions of it 
 
 And syne he kindly kissed her cheek, 
 
 
 
 exist, in which both the names of the hero and 
 
 And syne the starting tear. — 
 
 
 
 the locality celebrated vary. In the versions be- 
 
 
 
 
 fore us, the hero figures under the different 
 
 Now to the gude green-wood he's gane, 
 
 
 
 names of " Lammikin," " Lamkin," "Balcan- 
 
 She to her painted bower, 
 
 
 
 qual," "Lambert Linkin,"and " Bold Rankin," 
 
 But first she closed the windows and doors 
 
 
 
 while the localities are also changed more or less. 
 
 Of the castle, ha', and tower. 
 
 
 
 " Lammikin" is supposed to be an ironical de- 
 
 
 
 
 signation of the blood-thirsty mason. The earliest 
 
 They steeked doors, they steeked yetts, 
 
 
 
 printed copy of the ballad that can be traced is 
 
 Close to the cheek and chin ; * 
 
 
 
 that in Herd's collection, 1776; a more complete 
 
 They steeked them a' but a wee wicket, 
 
 
 
 and better copy is given in Jamieson's collection, 
 
 And Lammikin crap in. 
 
 
 
 1806; another version by Fin lay, in 1808; and 
 
 
 
 
 another by Motherwell in 1827. All these we 
 
 " Where are the lads o' this castle ?" 
 
 
 
 reprint in the order in which we have specified 
 
 Says the Lammikin ; 
 
 
 
 them, and also add a version derived from oral 
 
 " They are a' wi' Lord Weire, hunting," 
 
 
 
 tradition., which has not before been printed.] 
 
 The false nouriee did sing. 
 
 
 
 I. 
 
 " Where are the lasses o* this castle ?" 
 
 
 
 Says the Lammikin ; 
 
 
 
 [Herd's copy, with additional verses by Finlay.] 
 
 " They are a' out at the washing," 
 The false nouriee did sing. 
 
 
 
 Lammikin was as gude a mason 
 
 " But where's the lady o' this house?" 
 
 
 
 As ever hewed a stane ; 
 
 Says the Lammikin ; 
 
 
 
 He biggit Lord Weire's castle, 
 
 " She is in her bower sewing," 
 
 
 
 But payment gat he nane. 
 
 The false nouriee did sing. 
 
 
 
 " Sen ye winna gi'e me my guerdon, lord, 
 
 " Is this the bairn o' this house ?" 
 
 
 
 Sen ye winna gi'e me my hire, 
 
 Says the Lammikin ; 
 
 
 
 This gude castle, sae stately built, 
 I sail gar rock wi' fire. 
 
 " The only bairn Lord Weire aughts," 
 The false nouriee did sing. 
 
 
 
 " Sen ye winna gi'e me my wages, lord, 
 Ye sail ha'e cause to rue." 
 
 Lammikin nipped the bonnie babe, 
 
 
 
 And syne he brewed a black revenge, 
 And syne he vowed a vow. — 
 
 While loud false nouriee sings ; 
 
 Lammikin nipped the bonnie babe, 
 
 Till high the red blude springs. 
 
 
 
 The Lammikin sair wroth, sair wroth, 
 
 
 
 
 Returned again to Downe; 
 
 " Still my bairn, nouriee, 
 
 
 
 But or he gaed, he vow'd and vow'd, 
 
 O still him if ye can." 
 
 
 
 The castle should sweep the ground.— 
 
 " He will not still, madam, 
 For a' his father's Ian'." 
 
 
 
 " byde at hame, my gude Lord Weire, 
 I weird ye byde at hame ; 
 
 
 
 
 
 Gang na to this day's hunting, 
 
 * Cheek and chin, — a proverbial phrase signi* 
 
 
 
 To leave me a' alane. ^ 
 
 fying completely. 
 
 Q 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 242 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 " 0, gentle nourice, still my bairn, sle "I wanted for nae meat, ladie, 
 
 
 
 still him wi' the keys;" 
 
 I wanted for nae fee ; 
 
 
 
 " He will not still, fair lady, 
 
 But I wanted for a hantle 
 
 
 
 Let me do what I please." 
 
 A fair lady could gi'e." 
 
 
 
 " still my bairn, kind nourice, 
 
 Then Lammikin drew his red red sword, 
 
 
 
 still him wi' the ring." 
 
 And sharped it on a stane, 
 
 
 
 " He will not still, my lady, 
 
 And through and through this fair ladie, 
 
 
 
 Let me do any thing." 
 
 The cauld cauld steel is gane. 
 
 
 
 " still my bairn, gude nourice, 
 
 Nor lang was't after this foul deed, 
 
 
 
 still him wi' the knife." 
 
 Till Lord Weire cumin hame, 
 
 
 
 " He will not still, dear mistress mine, 
 
 Thocht he saw his sweet bairn's bluid 
 
 
 
 Gin I'd lay down my life." 
 
 Sprinkled on a stane. 
 
 
 
 " Sweet nourice, loud loud cries my bairn, 
 
 " I wish a' may be weel," he says, 
 
 
 
 still him wi' the bell." 
 
 ,; Wi' my ladie at hame ; 
 
 
 
 " He will not still, dear lady, 
 
 For the rings upon my fingers 
 
 
 
 Till ye cum down yoursel'. 
 
 Are bursting in twain." 
 
 
 
 The first step she stepped, 
 
 But mair he look'd, and dule saw he, 
 
 
 
 She stepped on a stane, 
 
 On the door at the trance, 
 
 
 
 The next step she stepped, 
 
 Spots o' his dear lady's bluid 
 
 
 
 She met the Lammikin. 
 
 Shining like a lance. — 
 
 
 
 And when she saw the red red blude, 
 
 " There's bluid in my nursery, 
 
 
 
 A loud skriech skrieched she, — 
 
 There's bluid in my ha', 
 
 
 
 •' monster, monster, spare my child, 
 
 There's bluid in my fair lady's bower, 
 
 
 
 Who never skaithed thee ! 
 
 An' that's waist of a'." 
 
 
 
 " spare, if in your bluidy breast 
 Abides not heart of stane ! 
 
 sweet sweet sang the birdie 
 
 Upon the bough sae hie, 
 But little cared false norice for that, 
 
 
 
 O spare, an' ye sail ha'e o' gold 
 That ye can carry hame !" 
 
 For it was her gallows tree. 
 Then out he set, and his braw men 
 
 
 
 " I carena for your gold," he said, 
 
 Rode a' the country roun', 
 
 
 
 " 1 carena for your fee, 
 
 Ere lang they land the Lammikin 
 
 
 
 I ha'e been wranged by your lord, 
 
 Had sheltered near to Downe. 
 
 
 
 Black vengeance ye sail drie. 
 
 They carried him a' airts o' wind, 
 
 
 
 " Here are nae serfs to guard your ha's, 
 
 And mickle pain had he, 
 
 
 
 Nae trusty spearmen here ; 
 
 At last before Lord Weire's gate 
 
 
 
 In yon green wood they sound the horn, 
 
 They hanged him on the tree. 
 
 
 
 And chace the doe and deer. 
 
 
 
 
 " Though merry sounds the gude green-wood 
 
 
 
 
 Wi' huntsmen, hounds, and horn, 
 
 11 
 
 
 
 Tour lord sail rue ere sets yon sun 
 
 [Jamieson's version, who received it from 
 
 
 
 He has done me skaith and scorn." 
 
 Mrs Brown of Falkland.] 
 
 
 
 " nourice, wanted ye your meat, 
 
 It's Lamkin was a mason good, 
 
 
 
 Or wanted ye your fee, 
 
 As ever built wi' stane; 
 
 
 
 Or wanted ye for any thing 
 
 He built lord Wearie's castle. 
 
 
 
 A fair lady could gi'e ?" \ 
 
 ■ f But payment got he nane. 
 
 
 
 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 213 
 
 " O pay me, lord "Wearie ; 
 
 Come, pay me my fee." 
 "I canna pay you, Lamkin, 
 
 For I maun gang o'er the sea." 
 
 " O pay me now, Lord "Wearie ; 
 
 Come, pay me out o' hand." 
 " I canna pay you, Lamkin, 
 
 Unless I sell my land." 
 
 " O gin ye winna pay me, 
 
 I here sail mak' a vow, 
 Before that ye come hame again, 
 
 Ye sail ha'e cause to rue." 
 
 Lord Wearie got a bonnie ship, 
 
 To sail the saut sea faem ; 
 Bade his lady weel the castle keep, 
 
 Ay till he should come hame. 
 
 But the nourice was a fause limmer 
 
 As e'er hung on a tree ; 
 She laid a plot wi' Lamkin, 
 
 When her lord was o'er the sea. 
 
 She laid a plot wi' Lamkin, 
 When the servants were awa' ; 
 
 Loot him in at a little shot window, 
 And brought him to the ha'. 
 
 " O whare's a' the men o' this house, 
 
 That ca' me Lamkin?" 
 " They're at the barn well thrashing, 
 
 'Twill be lang ere they come in." 
 
 " And whare's the women o' this house, 
 
 That ca' me Lamkin ?" 
 " They're at the far well washing ; 
 
 'Twill be lang ere they come in." 
 
 " And whare's the bairns o' this house, 
 
 That ca' me Lamkin?" 
 " They're at the school reading ; 
 
 'Twill be night or they come hame." 
 
 " O, whare's the lady o' this house, 
 
 Thatca's me Lamkin ?" 
 " She's up in her bower sewing, 
 
 But we soon can bring her down." 
 
 Then Lamkin's tane a sharp knife, 
 That hang down by his gaire, 
 
 And he has gi'en the bonnie babe 
 A deep wound and a sair. 
 
 ft Then Lamkin he rocked, 
 J And the fause nourice sang, 
 
 Till frae ilkae bore o' the cradle 
 The red blood out sprang. 
 
 Then out it spak' the lady 
 
 As she stood on the stair, 
 '* What ails my bairn, nourice, 
 
 That he's greeting sae sair ? 
 
 " O still my bairn, nourice; 
 
 O still him wi' the pap!" 
 " He winna still, lady, 
 
 For this, nor for that." 
 
 " O, still my bairn, nourice ; 
 
 O, still him wi' the wand!" 
 " He winna still, lady, 
 
 For a" his father's land." 
 
 " O, still my bairn, nourice ; 
 
 O, still him wi' the bell !" 
 " He winna still, lady, 
 
 Till ye come down yoursel'." 
 
 O, the firsten step she steppit, 
 
 She steppit on a stane ; 
 But the neisten step she steppit, 
 
 She met him, Lamkin. 
 
 " mercy, mercy, Lamkin! 
 
 Ha'e mercy upon me ! 
 Though you've ta'en my young son's life, 
 
 Ye may let mysel' be." 
 
 " O, sail I kill her nourice ? 
 
 Or sail 1 lather be?" 
 " 0, kill her, kill her, Lamkin, 
 
 For she ne'er was good to me." 
 
 " O scour the bason, nourice, 
 And mak' it fair and clean, 
 
 For to keep this lady's heart's blood, 
 For she's come o' noble kin." 
 
 " There need nae bason, Lamkin, 
 Lat it run through the floor; 
 
 What better is the heart's blood 
 O' the rich than o' the poor." 
 
 But ere three months were at an end, 
 
 Lord Weare came again ; 
 But dowie dowie was his heart 
 
 When first he came hame. 
 
244 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 " 0, wha's blood is this," he says, '. 
 
 "That lies in the chamer?" 
 "It is your lady's heart's blood; 
 
 'lis as clear as the lamer." 
 
 fe "0 please the bairn, nourice, 
 
 And please him wi' the keys." 
 "He'll no be pleased, madam, 
 For a' that he sees." 
 
 "And wha's blood is this," he says, 
 
 " That lies in my ha' ?" 
 " It is your young son's heart's blood ; 
 
 'Tis the clearest ava." 
 
 And Balcanqual ay rocked, 
 While fause nourice sang, 
 
 And through a' the cradle 
 The baby's blood ran. 
 
 0, sweetly sang the black -bird 
 
 That sat upon the tree ; 
 But sairer grat Lamkin, 
 
 When he was condemn'd to die. 
 
 -Please the bairn, nourice, 
 And please him wi' the knife." 
 
 "Hell no be pleased, madam, 
 Though I'd gi'e my life." 
 
 And bonnie sang the mavis 
 Out o' the thorny brake ; 
 
 But sairer grat the nourice, 
 
 When she was tied to the stake. 
 
 And Balcanqual still rocked, 
 And fause nourice sang, 
 
 While through a' the cradle 
 The baby's blood ran. 
 
 III. 
 
 " Now please the bairn, nourice, 
 And please him wi' the bell." 
 
 " He'll no be pleased, madam. 
 Till ye come yoursel'." — 
 
 [^iklav's copy, who gives it from a manu- 
 script written by an old lady.] 
 
 Down came this fair lady, 
 Tripping down the stair, 
 
 To see her sick bairn, 
 
 But returned never mair.— 
 
 When Balwearie and his train 
 Gaed to hunt the wild boar, 
 
 He gar'd bar up his castle 
 Behind and before. 
 
 " Now scour the bason, Jenny, 
 And scour't very clean, 
 
 To haad this lady's blood, 
 For she's of noble kin." 
 
 And he bade his fair lady 
 Guard weel her young son, 
 
 For wicked lialcanqual 
 Great mischief had done. 
 
 She's lifted her baby, 
 
 And kissed cheek and chin, 
 And his ance rosy lips, 
 
 But nae breath was within.— 
 
 So she closed a' the windows 
 Without and within, 
 
 But forgot the wee wicket, 
 And Balcanqual crap in. 
 
 " Fare weel, my sweet baby, 
 Ye've left me alane ; 
 
 But I see my death coming, 
 I needna make mane." 
 
 Then up spak' fause nourice, 
 " Haste up to the tower, 
 
 Somebody knocks at the gate 
 Bauldly and dowr." 
 
 They've ta'en this fair lady, 
 And tied her wi' bands, 
 
 And in her sweet heart's blood 
 They've dipped their hands. 
 
 Syne Balcanqual he rocked, 
 
 And fause nourice sang, 
 Till through a' the cradle 
 
 The baby's blood sprang. • 
 
 For Balcanqual and nourice 
 
 Had vow'd her to slae, 
 Because their ill deeds 
 « Made Balwearie their fae. 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 245 
 
 Balwearie and his train 
 Cam' name weary at e'en, 
 
 Nae voice gied them welcome, 
 Nae light could be seen. 
 
 " Open, dear lady, 
 
 My castle to me;" 
 Nae voice gied an answer, 
 
 Nae voice was to gi'e. 
 
 IT. 
 
 [Motherwell's version. — "The present copy," 
 says Mr Motherwell, " is given from recitation, 
 and though it could have received additions, and 
 perhaps improvements, from another copy, ob- 
 tained from a similar source, and of equal au- 
 thenticity, in his possession, the editor did not 
 like to use the liberty which is liable to much 
 abuse. To some, the present set of the ballad 
 may be valuable, as handing down both name 
 and nickname of the revengeful builder of Prime 
 Castle; for there can be little doubt that the 
 epithet Linkin, Mr Lambert acquired from the 
 secrecy and address with which he insinuated 
 himself into that notable strength. Indeed all 
 the names of Lammerlinkin, Lammikin, Lam- 
 kin, Lankin, Linkin, Belinkin, can easily be 
 traced out as abbreviations of Lambert Linkin. 
 In the present set of the ballad, Lambert Linkin 
 and Belinkin are used indifferently, as the mea- 
 sure of the verse may require ; in the other re- 
 cited copy, to which reference has been made, it 
 is Lammerlinkin, and Lamkin; and the noble- 
 man for whom he ' built a house,' is stated to 
 be ' Lord Arran.' No allusion, however, is made 
 here to the name of the owner of Prime Castle. 
 Antiquaries, peradventure, may find it as diffi- 
 cult to settle the precise locality of this fortalice, 
 as they have found it to fix the topography of 
 Troy."] 
 
 Belinkin was as gude a mason 
 
 As e'er pickt a stane ; 
 He built up Prime Castle, 
 
 But payment gat nane. 
 
 The lord said to his lady, 
 When he was going abroad, 
 
 " beware of Belinkin, 
 For he lies in the wood." 
 
 The gates they were bolted 
 
 Baith outside and in ; 
 And at the sma' peep of a window 
 
 Belinkin crap in. 
 
 " Gude morrow, gude morrow," 
 
 Said Lambert Linkin ; 
 " Gude morrow to yoursel', sir," 
 
 Said the fause nurse to him. 
 
 " O whare is your gude lord ?" 
 
 Said Lambert Linkin ; 
 " He's awa' to New England, 
 
 To meet with his king." 
 
 " O where is his auld son ?" 
 
 Said Lambert Linkin ; 
 " He's awa' to buy pearlings 
 
 Gin our lady ly in." 
 
 " Then she'll never wear them," 
 
 Said Lambert Linkin ; 
 " And that is nae pity," 
 
 Said the fause nurse to him. 
 
 " O where is your lady ?" 
 
 Said Lambert Linkin ; 
 " She's in her bouir sleepin'," 
 
 Said the fause nurse to him. 
 
 " How can we get at her ?" 
 
 Said Lambert Linkin ; 
 " Stab the babe to the heart 
 
 Wi' a silver bo'kin." 
 
 " That wud be a pity," 
 
 Said Lambert Linkin ; 
 " Nae pity, nae pity," 
 
 Said the fause nurse to him. 
 
 Belinkin he rocked, 
 
 And the fause nurse she sang, 
 Till a' the tores* o' the cradle, 
 
 Wi' the red blude down ran. 
 
 * Tores.— The projections or knobs at the cor- 
 ners of old-fashioned cradles, and the ornamen- 
 tal balls commonly found surmounting the 
 backs of old chairs. Dr Jamieson does not seem 
 to have had a precise notion of this word. Vide 
 IV. Vol. of his Dictionary, voce Tore. 
 
 MothertvelU 
 
246 
 
 SCOTTISH JbAJLij.&.D3. 
 
 " still my babe, nunce, 
 
 O still him wi' the knife ;" 
 " He'll no be still, lady, 
 
 Though 1 lay down my life." 
 
 " O still my babe, nurice, 
 
 O still him wi' the karae; " 
 " He'll no be still, lady, 
 
 Till his daddy come hame." 
 
 " O still my babe, nurice, 
 
 O still him wi' the bell;" 
 " He'll no be still, lady, 
 
 Till ye come down yoursel'." 
 
 "Its how can I come doun 
 
 This cauld frosty nicht, 
 Without e'er a coal 
 
 Or a clear candle licht ?" 
 
 " There's twa smocks in your coffer, 
 
 A3 white as a swan, 
 Put ane o' them about you, 
 
 It will show you licht doun." 
 
 She took ane o' them about her, 
 
 And came tripping doun ; 
 But as soon as she viewed, 
 
 Belinkin was in. 
 
 " Gude morrow, gude morrow," 
 
 Said Lambert Linkin ; 
 " Gude morrow to yoursel', sir," 
 
 Said the lady to him. 
 
 " Oh save my life, Belinkin, 
 
 Till my husband come back, 
 And I'll gi'e ye as much red gold 
 
 As ye'll haud in your hat." 
 
 " I'll no save your life, lady, 
 Till your husband come back, 
 
 Tho'you wud gi'e me as much red gold 
 As 1 could haud in a sack. 
 
 " Will I kill her ?'• quo' Belinkin, 
 " Will 1 kill her, or let her be ?" 
 
 " You may kill her," said the fause nurse, 
 " She was ne'er gude to me; 
 
 And ye'll be laird o' the castle, 
 And I'll be ladye." 
 
 Then he cut aff her head 
 
 Frae her lily breast bane, 
 And he hung't up in the kitchen, 
 
 It made a' the ha' shine. 
 
 The, lord sat in England 
 A-drinking the wine: 
 
 " I wish a' may be weel 
 Wi' my lady at hame ; 
 
 For the rings o' my fingers 
 They're now burst in twain 1" 
 
 He saddled his horse, 
 
 And he cam' riding doun ; 
 
 But as soon as he viewed, 
 Belinkin was in. 
 
 He hadna weel stepped 
 Twa steps up the stair, 
 
 Till he saw his pretty young son 
 Lying dead on the floor. 
 
 He hadna weel stepped 
 Other twa up the stair, 
 
 Till he saw his pretty lady 
 Lying dead in despair. 
 
 He hanged Belinkin 
 
 Out over the gate ; 
 And he burnt the fause nurice 
 
 Being under the grate. 
 
 [From a MS. in the possession of W. It 
 Logan, Esq., Edinburgh, derived from oral tra- 
 dition.] 
 
 Said the lord to the lady — 
 
 " Beware of Rankin, 
 For I'm going to England 
 
 To wait on the king." 
 
 " No fears, no fears," 
 
 Said the lady, said she, 
 " For the doors shall be bolted, 
 
 And the windows pindee. 
 
 " Go bar all the windows 
 
 Both outside and in, 
 Don't leave a window open, 
 
 To let bold Rankin in." 
 
 She has barred up the windows, 
 
 All outside and in, 
 But she left ane of them open 
 ' To let bold Rankin in. 
 

 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 247 
 
 " Oh ! where is the master of this house ?" . 
 
 Said bold Kankin, 
 " He's up in old England," 
 
 Said the false nurse to him. 
 
 *e " What eare I for as many guineas 
 As seeds into a sack, 
 When I cannot keep my hands 
 Off your lily-white neck?" 
 
 " Oh ! where is the mistress of this house ?" 
 
 Said bold Rankin, 
 " She's up in her chamber sleeping," 
 
 Said the false nurse to him. 
 
 " Oh ! will I kill her, nursey, 
 
 Or letherabee?" 
 " Oh ! kill her," said the false nurse, 
 
 " She was never good to me." 
 
 " Oh ! how shall we get her down ?" 
 
 Said bold Kankin, 
 " By piercing the baby," 
 
 Said the false nurse to him. 
 
 " Go scour the bason, lady, 
 
 Both outside and in, 
 To hold your mother's heart's blood, 
 
 Sprung from a nobler king."* 
 
 " Go please the baby, nursey oh ! 
 
 Go please it with a bell ;" 
 " It will not be pleased, madam, 
 
 Till ye come down yoursel'." 
 
 " To hold my mother's heart's blood, 
 Would make my heart full woe, 
 
 Oh ! rather kill me, Rankin, 
 And let my mother go." 
 
 " How can I come down stairs, 
 So late into the night, 
 
 Without coal and candle 
 To show me the light ? 
 
 " Go scour the bason, servants, 
 
 Both outside and in ; 
 To hold your lady's heart's blood, 
 
 Sprung from a nobler king." 
 
 " There is a silver bolt lies 
 
 On the closet head, 
 Give it to the baby, 
 
 Give it sweet milk and bread." 
 
 " To hold my lady's heart's blood, 
 Would make my heart full woe, 
 
 Oh ! rather kill me, Rankin, 
 And let my lady go." 
 
 She rammed the silver bolt 
 
 All up the baby's nose, 
 Till the blood it came trickling down 
 
 The baby's fine clothes. 
 
 " Go scour the bason, nursey, 
 
 Both outside and in, 
 To hold your lady's heart's blood, 
 
 Sprung from a nobler king." 
 
 " Go please the baby, nursey, 
 Go please it with the bell." 
 
 It will not ^ lease, madam, 
 Till you come down yoursel'." 
 
 " To hold my lady's heart's blood, 
 Would make my heart full glad. 
 
 Ram in the knife, bold Rankin, 
 And gar the blood to shed. 
 
 " It will neither please with breast-milk, 
 
 Nor yet with pap, 
 But 1 pray, loving lady, 
 
 Come and roll it in your lap." 
 
 " She's none of my comrades, 
 She's none of my kin',f 
 
 Ram in the knife, bold Rankin, 
 And gar the bluid rin." 
 
 The first step she stepped, 
 
 She stepped on a stane, 
 And the next step she stepped, 
 
 She met bold Kankin. 
 
 " Oh ! Rankin, oh ! Rankin, 
 
 Spare me till twelve o'clock, 
 And I will give you as many guineas, 
 As you can carry on your back." ^ 
 
 " Oh ! will I kill her, nursey, 
 
 Or let her abee?" 
 " Oh ! kill her," said the false nurse, 
 
 " She was never good to me." 
 
 * Sprung from a noble kin' ? 
 t Equivalent to the Nigger adage, " Hit him 
 -, hard, him got no friends here." 
 
 

 
 
 
 248 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 " I wish my wife and family ^inmates perished in the flames. The ruins of 
 
 
 
 May be all well at hame ; 
 
 this baronial residence are still to be seen on the 
 
 
 
 For the silver buttons of my coat 
 
 banks of the river Fiddach in Bamfshire."J 
 
 
 
 They will not stay on." 
 
 " Turn, Willie Mackintosh, 
 
 
 
 As Mary was looking 
 
 Turn, turn, I bid you ; 
 
 
 
 O'er her window so high, 
 
 If you burn Auchindoun, 
 
 
 
 She saw her dear father 
 
 Huntly will head you." 
 
 
 
 Come riding by. 
 
 " Head me or hang me, 
 
 
 
 " Oh ! father, dear father! 
 
 That winna fley me, 
 
 
 
 Don't put the blame on me, 
 
 I'll burn Auchindoun, 
 
 
 
 It was false nurse and Rankin, 
 
 Ere the life lea' me." 
 
 
 
 That killed your ladie." 
 
 Coming owre Cairn-croome,* 
 
 
 
 Oh ! wasn't that an awful sight, 
 
 And looking down, man; 
 
 
 
 When he came to the stair, 
 
 I saw Willie Mackintosh 
 
 
 
 To see his fairest lady 
 
 Burn Auchindoun, man. 
 
 
 
 Lie bleeding there t 
 
 Light was the mirk hour 
 
 
 
 The false nurse was burnt 
 
 At the day dawing, 
 
 
 
 On the mountain hill head, 
 
 For Auchindoun was in flames 
 
 
 
 And Rankin was boiled 
 
 Ere the cock crawing. 
 
 
 
 In a pot full of lead. 
 
 
 
 
 Running ©f ®wfnwl«Mu 
 
 BURNING OF AUCHINDOUN. 
 
 
 
 [This fragment, with the following note pre- 
 
 [Modern Version. — Alexander Laing.] 
 
 
 
 fixed to it, was first printed in an Aberdeen 
 
 
 
 
 newspaper about thirty years ago. — " In 1592 the 
 
 " Turn again, my gallant chief, 
 
 
 
 Mackintoshes, or clan Chattan, having offended 
 
 Turn again, I bid you — 
 
 
 
 Gordon of Huntly and btrathbogie, to whom 
 
 If you burn Auchindoun, 
 
 
 
 they were vassals, the latter vowed vengeance, 
 
 The Gordon will behead you." 
 
 
 
 which the former fearing, requested their chief 
 
 
 
 
 to proceed to Auchindoun Castle, the residence 
 
 " The Gordon may behead me— 
 
 
 
 of their offended superior, and sue for peace. 
 
 I will think of turning 
 
 
 
 On his arrival there, Gordon was unfortunately 
 
 When his haughty lady weeps — 
 
 
 
 from home : he was however introduced to his 
 
 When Auchindoun is burning I" 
 
 
 
 lady, to whom he told on what errand he had 
 
 
 
 
 come, and pleaded for her intercession ; but she 
 
 The shepherd now had left the hill, 
 
 
 
 told him that she was sure her lord would not be 
 
 The stormy wind was howling; 
 
 
 
 satisfied until the head of the chief of the clan 
 
 And on the brow of Cairn-croome, 
 
 
 
 Chattan was fixed on the castle gate. The chief 
 
 The cloud of night was scowling ; 
 
 
 
 despising her threat, and bowing scornfully low 
 
 
 
 
 before he should depart, she snatched a sword 
 
 While on the deep and distant glen, 
 
 
 
 from the wall, and severed his head from his 
 
 The Fiddach, wildly wailing 
 
 
 
 body. His clan, on hearing of the ' horrid deed,' 
 
 Of foes upon its woody banks — 
 
 
 
 assembled under his son and successor, and 
 
 Of coming wae was telling ■ 
 
 
 
 marched to Auchindoun Castle in the dead of 
 night, which they plundered and set on fire. 
 
 
 
 
 
 The lady made her escape, but several of the 
 
 ft * A hill near Auchindoun. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
SCOTTISH BALLABS. 
 
 219 
 
 Anon was seen along the sky 
 A beam so bright approaching, 
 
 That on the middle hour of night 
 The day-light seem'd encroaching. 
 
 Then faintly on the stormy heath 
 Was heard the voice of mourning — 
 
 And then appeared the bursting flames — 
 Auchindoun was burning ! 
 
 Wfyt WEmXuk a' <mto©^. 
 
 [Modern Ballad. — (See Vignette to the pre- 
 sent volume.) — The tradition upon which the 
 p;esent ballad is founded is thus narrated by Sir 
 Walter Scott in the notes to the Lay of the Last 
 Minstrel. — Sir Michael Scott " was chosen, it is 
 said, to go upon an embassy, to obtain from the 
 king of Fiance satisfaction for certain piracies 
 committed by his subjects upon those of Scot- 
 land. Instead of preparing a new equipage and 
 splendid retinue, the ambassador retreated to 
 his study, opened his book, and evoked a fiend in 
 the shape of a huge black horse, mounted upon 
 his back, and forced him to fly through the air 
 towards France. As they crossed the sea, the 
 devil insidiously asked his rider, what it was that 
 the old women of Scotland muttered at bed-time? 
 A less experienced wizard might have answered, 
 that it was the Pater Noster, which would have 
 licensed the devil to precipitate him from his 
 hack. But Michael sternly replied, ' What is 
 that to thee ? Mount, Diabolus, and fly !' When 
 he arrived at Paris, he tied his horse to the gate 
 of the palace, entered, and boldly delivered his 
 message. An ambassador, with so little of the 
 pomp and circumstance of diplomacy, was not re- 
 ceived with much respect; and the king was 
 about to return a contemptuous refusal to his 
 demand, when Michael besought him to sus- 
 pend his resolution till he had seen his horse 
 stamp three times. The first stamp shook every 
 steeple in Paris, and caused all the bells to ring; 
 the second threw down three of the towers of the 
 palace; and the infernal steed had lifted his hoof 
 to give the third stamp, when the king rather 
 chose to dismiss Michael with the most ample 
 concessions, than to stand to the probable con- 
 sequences. 
 
 " Sir Michael Scott," according to the same 
 high authority, " flourished during the 13th 
 century, and was one of the ambassadors sent 
 to bring the Maid of Norway to Scotland, upon 
 the death of Alexander III. He was a man of 
 much learning, chiefly acquired in foreign coun- 
 tries. He wrote a commentary upon Aristotle, 
 printed at Venice in 1496 ; and several treatises 
 upon natural philosophy, from which he appears 
 to have been addicted to the abstruse studies of 
 judicial astrology, alchymy, physiognomy, and 
 chiromancy. Hence he passed among his con- 
 temporaries for a skilful magician. Bempster 
 informs us, that he remembers to have heard in 
 his youth, that the magic books of Michael Scott 
 were still in existence, but could not be opened 
 without danger, on account of the fiends who 
 were thereby invoked. — Bempsteri Historia Ec- 
 clesiastica, 1627, lib. xii. p. 495. Lesly charac- 
 terises Michael Scott as ' singulari philosophise, 
 astronomiae, acmedicinaelaudepraestans; diceba- 
 tur penitissimos magias recessus indagasse.' A 
 personage, thus spoken of by biographers and 
 historians, loses little of his mystical fame in 
 vulgar tradition. Accordingly, the memory of 
 Sir Michael Scott survives in many a legend ; 
 and in the south of Scotland, any work of great 
 labour and antiquity is ascribed, either to the 
 agency of Auld Michael, of Sir William Wallace, 
 or of the devil."] 
 
 Ak gloamin, as the sinking sun 
 Gaed owre the wastlin' braes, 
 
 And shed on Aikwood's haunted towers 
 His bright but fading rays ; 
 
 Auld Michael sat his leafu' lane 
 
 Down by the streamlet's side, 
 Beneath a spreading hazel bush, 
 
 And watched the passing tide. 
 
 Wi' mennons wee, that loup'd for joy, 
 
 The water seemed a fry, 
 And cross the stream, frae stane to stane, 
 
 The trout gaed glancin' by. 
 
 The sportive maukin frae his form 
 
 Cam' dancing o'er the lea, 
 And cocked his lugs, and wagged his fud, 
 
 Sune 's Michael caught his e'e. 
 
 The paitricks whirring nearer flew,— 
 
 But, hark! what is't 1 hear? 
 The horse's tramp and trumpet's note 
 
 To Aikwood drawing near ;' 
 
250 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 Auld Michael raised his stately form, 
 And slowly hameward hied, — 
 
 Eight weel he ken'd what knight and horse 
 And trumpet did betide. 
 
 " Our gracious king, to whom the Lord 
 
 Grant aye a happy lot, 
 This packet to his kinsman sends — 
 
 The leal Sir Michael Scott. 
 
 " And ye maun hie as fast as horse 
 
 "Will bear you owre the lea, 
 To Frenchman's land, and to the king 
 
 This packet ye maun gi'e. 
 
 " An answer frae the Frenchman ye 
 Maun seek for clean aff hand, 
 
 Then hie thee to our sov'reign lord- 
 Such is the king s command." 
 
 So spak' the knight, and Michael bow'd ! 
 
 " The king's hests I'll obey, 
 The fleetest steed 1 shall prei are, 
 
 And start ere break o' day." 
 
 Auld Michael to his closet gaed, 
 
 But lang he baid na there, 
 He donn'd a cleuck baith auld and queer, 
 
 And hunting cap o' hair. 
 
 Ir.i.e a phial sma', a drap he pour'd, 
 
 That sune rose till a flame, 
 A gruesome low, whar elfins wee 
 
 Jigg'd roun' wi' might and main. 
 
 The low he toss'd up in the air, 
 
 The sky grew black as coal, 
 Some words he spak' that nae man ken'd, 
 
 And thunders gan to roll. 
 
 The lightnings flash'd, the loud winds blew 
 Till Aikwood trembling stood, 
 
 And tall trees bent their stately forms 
 Like eels in playfu' mood. 
 
 Midst war o* winds and thunder's crash, 
 
 The bravest weel might fear; 
 The warlock wav'd his little wand, 
 
 And through the storm did peer. 
 
 His count'nance glow'd, for see he comes 
 
 Borne on the blast along, 
 A tall black steed, with eyes of flame, 
 
 And thews and sinews strong ! 
 
 " Now woe betide thee," Michael said, 
 " If once thou slack'st thy speed, 
 
 And bear'st me not by morrow's dawn 
 To France without remede." 
 
 By this the storm had gone to rest, 
 The moon shone clear and bright, 
 
 And sma' white clouds were sailing roun', 
 Ting'd by the pale orb's light. 
 
 The warlock and his steed flew on, 
 Nought stay'd their headlong way, 
 
 The highest peak, the lowest glen, 
 Were spang'd as 'twere but play. 
 
 They bounded on, and night owls screeched. 
 
 As pass'd this fremit pair, 
 And in their beds the sleepers gran'd 
 
 And row'd as in nightmare. 
 
 On, on they sped like wintry blast, 
 
 And long ere first cock-crow 
 The sea was cross'd, and Paris tow'rs 
 
 Were seen far far below. 
 
 The palace porters trembling scan'd 
 The great. black horse with fear; 
 
 The courtiers eke confounded look'd, 
 But 'gan to mock and jeer 
 
 At Michael's dress ; but soon with voice 
 That made their dull ears ring, 
 
 He names his errand, and demands 
 An audience of the king. 
 
 " What ! ye refuse, ye cringing pack, 
 
 A messenger so mean ? 
 Then stamp, my steed, and let them feel 
 
 We're better than we seem !" 
 
 The black horse stamp'd ; and lo ' the bells 
 Through all the town did sound, 
 
 The steeple towers shook to their base 
 As heav'd up from the ground. 
 
 " What ! do ye still my suit refuse ? 
 
 Then stamp, my steed, once more!" 
 The courtiers shook for very fear, 
 
 And cross'd themselves right sore. 
 
 Clash went the hoof, and sounds of woe 
 
 Were heard on ev'ry side, 
 The thunders roll'd, the lightnings glar'd, 
 
 And through the air did ride 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 251 
 
 Unearthly forms, with hoop and ho ! 1 
 
 That spewed forth smoke and fire. 
 
 "Alack -a-day !" quoth the courtiers all, 
 " That e'er we rais'd his ire." 
 
 The muckle bell in Notre Dame* 
 Play'd jow, and burst in twain, 
 
 And lofty tow'rs and pinnacles 
 Came tumbling down amain. 
 
 The bell-man on a gargoyle's t back 
 
 Was shot out owre the Seine, 
 His boy upon a wooden saint 
 
 Went splash into the stream. 
 
 The palace shook like saughen bush 
 
 When wav'd by wastlin winds, 
 Or like the corn ears in the sheaf, 
 
 That harvest reaper binds. 
 
 The king frae regal seat was toss'd, 
 
 And piteously did roar, 
 For a vulgar part o' his bodie 
 
 Came thud upon the floor. 
 
 " Alack -a-day !" his kingship moan'd, 
 
 " Wha wrought a' this deray 
 Maun e'en be mair than mortal man — 
 
 dule's me on the day 
 
 " He e'er cam' to our palace yett !" 
 
 But Michael now nae langer 
 Wad wait. " Ye poltroon knaves, tak' tent ! 
 
 The third stamp shall be stranger." 
 
 " Stop ! stop !" they cried, " thy mighty 
 Nae mair we can withstand, [pow'r, 
 
 A third stamp of thy fell black horse 
 Wad ruin a' our land." 
 
 An answer in hot haste was giv'n, 
 
 And e'er you could say, whew i 
 The warlock had bestrode his steed, 
 
 And through the air they flew. 
 
 *Notre Dame, the principal cathedral in Paris, 
 stands upon an island in the middle of the river 
 Seine, which intersects the city. 
 
 t Gargoyle— A projecting water spout, com- 
 mon to different styles of architecture, and fre- 
 quently sculptured into the shape of aa open- 
 mouthed monster. 
 
 And as they pass'd o'er Dover straits, 
 
 The horse to speak began, 
 A pawky beast, and, as he pleas'd, 
 
 Was horse, or de'il, or man. 
 
 " Come tell to me, O master mine ! 
 
 What do the auld wives say 
 In Scotland when the sun gaes down, 
 
 Ere to their beds they gae ?" 
 
 But Michael was ow're slee e'en for 
 
 The cunning o' the de'il — 
 " What's that to thee, Diabolus ? 
 
 Mount, or my wand thou'lt feel. 
 
 " But if indeed thou fain wadst ken 
 What's by the auld wives said, 
 
 Then darn thysel' at e'enin's fa' 
 Close by some cottage bed ; 
 
 " And when the sun has left the lift, 
 
 And stars begin to peer 
 Out through the blue, and sounds o' toil 
 
 Nae mair fa' on the ear 
 
 "Then wilt thou see auld Scotia's dames 
 
 Kneel down to ane above, 
 And name with reverence the name 
 
 Of Him that's truth and love. 
 
 " A name, Diabolus ! more dread 
 
 To thee and all thy fry 
 Than is thy hideous native form 
 
 To untaught mortal eye." 
 
 By this time they had England cross'd, 
 
 And eke the Cheviots high ; 
 The Pentlands had been left behind, 
 
 And Holyrood was nigh. 
 
 Here Michael parting frae his steed 
 Straight to the palace went, 
 
 In haste before his sov'reign lord 
 Himself there to present. 
 
 "What ho ! Sir Michael, art thou here ? 
 
 Hast dar'd to disobey 
 My orders, that ambassador 
 
 To France thou'dst haste away ?" 
 
 " Wilt please my sov'reign to receive 
 
 This packet from my hand ? 
 With right good will I have obey'd 
 
 My monarch's just command." 
 

 
 
 
 252 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 The king transfix'd wi' wonder stood, sw " An' we will ride to London town, 
 
 
 
 And scarce believ'd his e'en, 
 
 Richt welcome to our English king; 
 
 
 
 And all aghast the courtiers cow'r'd, 
 
 And you sail be Dame Montagow, 
 
 
 
 As spell-bound they had been. 
 
 For I'll gi'e you a weddin' ring. 
 
 
 
 Lang ere their senses had return'd 
 
 "An you sail ha'e baith lords an' knichts, 
 
 
 
 Sir Michael aff had gane, 
 
 An' little pages twenty-three; 
 
 
 
 And sped him back to Aikwood gray 
 
 An' hawks, an' hounds, an' horses baith, 
 
 
 
 In haste his leafu' lane ! 
 
 As ne'er a dame in Christendee." 
 
 
 
 W. G. B. 
 
 " Tour rings o' gold I carena by, 
 
 
 
 
 
 Nor care I for your falcons free ; 
 I carena for your horse nor hounds, 
 
 
 
 Macfe ^giMcc of HPuwfoat^ 
 
 Nor for your pages twenty-three. 
 
 
 
 " But tak' your pages bauld an' young, 
 
 
 
 
 An' gi'e ilk ane a sword an' spear, 
 
 
 
 [John Talbot. — Black Agnes of Dunbar was 
 
 An* set them on your horses good, 
 
 
 
 daughter of Thomas earl of Randolph, and wife 
 
 An' mak' them michty men o' weir. 
 
 
 
 of Patrick, 9th earl of Dunbar and March. She 
 
 
 
 
 held the Castle of Dunbar nineteen weeks against 
 
 " An' ye may tak' your lordings brave, 
 
 
 
 the English, and at last compelled lord Montague 
 
 An" deck them wi' your claith o' gold; 
 
 
 
 to raise the siege. This took place in January, 
 
 For while my ain gude lord's awa', 
 
 
 
 1337-8.] 
 
 My yetts fast lock'd I mean to hold." 
 
 
 
 Some sing o' lords an' some o' knichts, 
 
 Now he has ta'en his mangonells, 
 
 
 
 An' some o' michty men o' war, 
 
 His warwolves an' his swine sae Strang, 
 
 
 
 But I sing o" a leddy bricht, 
 
 An' thunder'd at the castle yett, 
 
 
 
 The Black Agnaue o' Dunnebar. 
 
 Wi' sturdy straiks fu' loud and lang. 
 
 
 
 Lord March rade to the Burgh Muir, 
 
 He gard the cross-bow strings to tirl, 
 
 
 
 Wi' him his vassals true an' bauld, 
 
 The quarrels fast an' thick they flew ; 
 
 
 
 An' left his wife an' her bouir-mayis 
 
 He gard his archers gude t> stand 
 
 
 
 To bide at hame an' keep the hauld. 
 
 An' stoutly ben' the trusty yew. 
 
 
 
 Then up and spak' Lord Montagow ; 
 
 The mangonells play'd fast an' free, 
 
 
 
 An ill deid may he dee therefore ! 
 
 Brought down big stanes frae aff the vva'; 
 
 
 
 ".Now busk an' boune, ye merrymen a', 
 
 Black Agnace wi' her napkin fine, 
 
 
 
 To see this leddy in her bouir." 
 
 Leuch loud an' dicht the 6toor awa'. 
 
 
 
 " leddy March ! leddy fair! 
 
 Then Montagow he swore an aith, 
 
 
 
 Do up your yetts an' speak to me, 
 
 That he wad tame that leddy's pride, 
 
 
 
 An' I'll gi'e you sic gold an' pearls, 
 
 An' moved his swine again the was, 
 
 
 
 As ne'er a dame in Christendee." 
 
 Wi' fifty men ilk ane inside. 
 
 
 
 " Your perlins fine I carena by, 
 
 Upon the castle wa' she stood, 
 
 
 
 As little care I for your gold ; 
 
 The yirl o' March's sturdy marrow, 
 
 
 
 An' while my lord is gane frae hame, 
 
 An' leuch an' spak', " Lord Montagow, 
 
 
 
 The yetts fast lock'd I mean to hold." 
 
 I trow thy swine are fain to furrow." 
 
 
 
 " leddy bricht ! leddy fair ! 
 
 Then lat she fa' a weigthy stane, 
 
 
 
 Do up your yetts an' speak till me, 
 
 Upon the Eng ish captain's swine; 
 
 
 
 An' I'll gi'e you sic cloth o' gold 
 
 The English lang may rue the day, 
 
 
 
 As ne'er a dame frae Tweed to Dee. ^ 
 
 j That they sic fifty men did tine .' 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 Then Montaeow grew deidly pale, 
 
 Wi' tremblin' voice then out spak' he 
 
 " Thir Scottish queans are devil's gets, 
 Sic women did I never see. 
 
 " I wat we've bidden here owre lang, 
 But busk, my merrymen a', an' ride:" 
 
 They didna need the bidden twice, 
 I wat they werena brush to bide. 
 
 Now sing wha lists o' lords an' knichts, 
 An' sing wha lists o' men o' war; 
 
 But let me sing this leddy bright, 
 The Black Agnace o' Dunnebar, 
 
 SHuncan, a $xu%mmt. 
 
 [Modern Ballad by Hiurt Mackzjczis, au- 
 thor of The Man of Feeling.] 
 
 " Saw ye the Thane o' meikle pride, 
 
 Bed anger in his eye ?" 
 " I saw him not, nor care," he cried ; 
 
 " Bed anger frights na me. 
 
 " For I have stuid whar honour bade, 
 Though death trod on his heel : 
 
 Mean is the crest that stoops to fear; 
 Nae sic may Duncan feel. 
 
 " Hark ! hark ! or was it but the wind 
 That through the ha' did sing ? 
 
 Hark ! hark ! agen : a warlike shout 
 The black woods round do ring. 
 
 " 'Tis na for nought," bold Duncan cried, 
 
 "Sic shoutings on the wind:" 
 Syne up he started frae his seat, 
 
 A thrang o' spears behind. 
 
 "Haste, haste, my valiant hearts," he said, 
 
 " Anes mare to follow me ; 
 We'll meet yon shouters by the burn ; 
 
 I guess wha they may be. 
 
 " But wha is he that speeds sae fast, 
 Frae the slaw marching thrang? 
 
 Sae frae the mirk cloud shoots a beam, 
 The sky's blue face alang. 
 
 ** Some messenger it is, mayhap :" 
 " Then not of peace, I trow :" 
 
 " My master, Duncan, bade me rin, 
 And say these words to you. 
 
 " Eestore agen that bluiming rose, 
 Tour rude hand pluck d awa' ; 
 
 Restore again his Mary fair, 
 Or you shall rue the fa'." 
 
 Three strides the gallant Duncan tuik, 
 And shuik his forward spear : 
 
 " Gae tell thy master, beardless youth, 
 We are na wont to fear. 
 
 ** He comes na' on a wassal rout, 
 
 Of revel, sport, and play ; 
 Our swords gart fame proclaim us men 
 
 Lang ere this ruefu' day. 
 
 " The rose I pluok'd, of right i3 mine; 
 
 Our hearts together grew 
 like twa sweet roses on ae sta'k — 
 
 Frae hate to love she flew." 
 
 Swift as a winged shaft he sped : 
 
 Bold Duncan said, in jeer, 
 " Gae tell thy master, beardless youth, 
 
 We are na wont to fear. 
 
 " He comes na on a wassel rout, 
 
 Of revel, sport, and play; 
 Our swords gart fame proclaim us men 
 
 Lang ere this ruefu' day. 
 
 " The rose I pluck'd, of right is mine; 
 
 Ojx hearts together grew 
 Like twa sweet roses on ae sta'k — 
 
 Frae hate to love he flew." 
 
 He stamp'd his foot upo' the ground, 
 
 And thus in wrath did say : 
 " God strik' my saul if frae this field 
 
 We baith in life shall gae." 
 
 He wav'd his hand ; the pipes they play'd, 
 
 The targets clatter'd round, 
 And now between the meeting faes 
 
 Was little space of ground. 
 
 But wha is she that rins sae fast ? 
 
 Her feet aae stap they find : 
 Sae swiftly rides the milky cloud 
 
 Upon the simmer's wind. 
 
254: 
 
 Her face, a mantle screen 'd afore. 
 
 She show'd of lily hue : 
 Sae frae the gray mist breaks the sun 
 
 To drink the morning-dew. 
 
 " Alake, my friends ! what sight is this ? 
 
 Oh, stap your rage," she cried : 
 " Whar love with honey'd lip should be, 
 
 Mak' not a breach sae wide. 
 
 " Can then my uncle draw his sword, 
 My husband's breast to bleid ? 
 
 Or can my sweet lord do to him 
 Sic foul and ruthless deid ? 
 
 " Bethink ye, uncle, of the time 
 
 My gray-hair'd father died: 
 Frae whar your shrill horn shuik the wood, 
 
 He sent for you wi' speed : 
 
 " ' My brother, gard my barn,' he said : 
 
 ' She has nae father soon : 
 Regard her, Donald, as your ain : 
 
 I'll ask nae ither boon.' 
 
 " "Would then my uncle force my love, 
 
 Whar love it could na be, 
 Or wed me to the man 1 hate ? 
 
 Was this his care of me i> 
 
 " Can these brave men, who but of late 
 
 Together chas'd the deer, 
 Against their comrades bend their bows, 
 
 'In bluidy hunting here?" 
 
 She spake, while trickling ran the tears 
 
 Her blushing cheek alang ; 
 And silence, like a heavy cloud, 
 
 O'er a' the warriors hang. 
 
 Syne stapt the red-hair'd Malcom furth, 
 Threescore his years and three ; 
 
 Yet a' the strength of strongest youth 
 In sic an eild had he • 
 
 Nae pity was there in his breast, 
 
 For war alane he lo'd ; 
 His gray een sparkled at the sight 
 
 Of plunder, death, and bluid. 
 
 " What! shall our hearts of steel," he said, 
 
 " Bend to a woman's sang > 
 Or can her words our honour quit 
 
 For sic dishonest wrang ? 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 Ij& " For this did a' these warriors come, 
 
 To hear an idle tale ; 
 And o'er our death-accustom'd arms 
 Shall silly tears prevail ?" 
 
 They gied a shout, their bows they tuik, 
 They clash'd their steely swords 
 
 Like the loud waves of Bara's shore ; 
 There was nae room for words. 
 
 A cry the weeping Mary gied : 
 " O uncle ! hear my prayer; 
 
 Heed na that man of bluidy look ; — " 
 She had nae time for mair ; 
 
 For in the midst anon there came 
 
 A blind, unweeting dart, 
 That glanc'd frae off her Duncan's targe. 
 
 And struck her to the heart. 
 
 A while she stagger'd, syne she fell, 
 And Duncan see'd her fa* ; 
 
 Astound he stood, for in his limbs 
 There was nae power at a'. 
 
 The spear he meant at faes to fling, 
 Stood fix'd within his hand; 
 
 His lips, half open, euuldna speak; 
 His life was at a stand. 
 
 Sae the black stump of some auld aik, 
 
 With arms in triumph dight, 
 Seems to the traveller like a man, 
 
 
 [Reprinted from a pamphlet published in 4to, 
 at Glasgow, 1770, by Robert and Andrew Foulis, 
 and there said to be printed from the only copy 
 known to remain, which had been preserved 
 above sixty years by the care of Hugh Mont- 
 gomerie, senior, at Eaglesham, long one of the 
 factors of the family of Fglintoun.] 
 
 A noble Roman was the root 
 
 From which Montj^omeries came, 
 
 Who brought his legion from the war, 
 And settled the same 
 
SCOTTISH BALLABS. 
 
 255 
 
 Upon a hill »twixt Rome and Spain, 
 
 Gomericus* by name ; 
 From which he and his off spring do 
 
 Their sir-name still retain. 
 
 From this into the wars of France 
 Their valour did them bring, 
 
 That they great instruments might be 
 To save the Gallic king : 
 
 Here, with great splendor and renown, 
 
 Six centuries they spend; 
 At length for England they set sail; 
 
 Ambition hath no end. 
 
 On British ground they land at length : 
 
 Bodger must general be, 
 A cousin of the conqueror's, 
 
 And fittest to supplie 
 
 The greatest post ; into the field 
 
 The army then leads he, 
 Into a camp, Hastings by name, 
 
 In Sussex, where you'll see 
 
 The marks of camps unto this day ; 
 
 And where you'll hear it told, 
 The English king did them attack 
 
 Most like a captain bold. 
 
 But soon, alas ! he found it vain, 
 
 With Eodger arms to try : 
 This warry officer prepares, 
 
 His projects to defy. 
 
 The strong attacks he then observes, 
 Which made him thence to dread, 
 
 That England's king might be among 
 Those who charged with such speed. 
 
 The life-guards straight he ordered, 
 
 Their fury to defend ; 
 Where Harold, England's king, at once 
 
 His crown and life did end. 
 
 Whence to the conqueror did come 
 
 The English sceptre great, 
 And William, England's king declar'd, 
 
 To London came in state. 
 
 & Earl Rodgerf then the greatest man, 
 
 Next to the king was thought; 
 And nothing that he could desire. 
 But it to him was brought. 
 
 Montgomery town, Montgomery shire 
 
 And earl of Shresburie, 
 And Arundale do show this man 
 
 Of grandeur full to be. 
 
 Thus did he live all this king's reign - 
 
 For works of piety, 
 He built an abbacie, and then 
 
 Prepar'd himself to die. 
 
 At last king William yields to fate ; 
 
 And then his sec nd son 
 Mounts on the thivne, which had almost 
 
 The kingdom quite undone : 
 
 Some for the eldest son stand up, 
 
 As Rodger's sons did all ; 
 But the usurper keeps the throne, 
 
 Which did begin their fall. 
 
 Then Philip into Scotland came, 
 
 Unable to endure, 
 That they who earldoms had possest, 
 
 Of nought should be secure. 
 
 The king of Scots well knew the worth 
 
 Of men of noble race, 
 Who, in no times of ages past, 
 
 Their worth did once deface. 
 
 He in the Merse gives Philip lands, 
 Which afterwards he soon 
 
 With the black Douglass did exchange 
 For Eastwood and Ponoon, 
 
 Where many ages they did live, 
 By king and country lov'd; 
 
 As men of valour and renown, 
 Who were with honour mov'd 
 
 To shun no hazard when they could 
 
 To either service do : 
 Thus did they live, thus did they spend 
 
 Their blood and money too. 
 
 Mons Gomericus. 
 
 «p f Dugdale's Baronage, and Histories of England 
 
256 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 At last earl Douglass did inform, 4ft Who father was to James the sixth. 
 
 That to our king's disgrace, 
 
 Of Britain the first king, 
 
 An English earl had deeply swore, 
 
 1 Whose royal race unto this day 
 
 Ke'd hunt in Chevychase, 
 
 Doth o'er Great Britain reign. 
 
 And, maugre all that Scots could do, 
 
 Since you are come of royal blood, 
 
 "Would kill and bear away 
 
 And kings are sprung from you ; 
 
 The choicest deer of Otterburn,* 
 
 See that with greatest zeal and love 
 
 And best of harts would slay. 
 
 Those virtues ye pursue, 
 
 Our king sent his commands unto 
 
 Which to those honours rais'd your house, 
 
 Sir Hugh Montgomerie, 
 
 And shall without all stain, 
 
 And told him Douglass wanted men 
 
 In heralds books your ensigns fiowr'd, 
 
 Who fight could, but not flee. 
 
 And counter-flowr'd main. 
 
 The stout Sir Hugh f himself prepares, 
 
 
 The Douglass to support; 
 
 
 
 And with him took his eldest son: 
 
 
 Then did they all resort 
 
 WgPatti& Ecgeni&. 
 
 Unto the field, with their brave men. 
 
 
 "Where most of them did die; 
 
 [Van Dvk.] 
 
 Of fifteen hundred warlike Scots 
 
 Came home but fifty -three. 
 
 
 
 Youno Lamond, the pride of Argyllshire, 
 
 Douglass was slain ; Sir Hugh again 
 
 Was hunting the red red deer, 
 
 The battle did renew ; 
 
 And he saw a hart in his own Glenfine, 
 
 He made no stand, with hi3 own hand 
 
 And pierced him with his spear. 
 
 The earl Percy he slew. 
 
 
 
 The hart flew on with the lightning's speed, 
 
 Sir Hugh was slain, Sir John maintain'd 
 
 Though the shaft was in his side, 
 
 The honour of the day; 
 
 Till he came to a river's sloping bank, 
 
 And with him brought the victory, 
 
 And plunged in the restless tide. 
 
 And Percy's son away. 
 
 
 
 The hunter follow'd with might and main, 
 
 He with his ransom built Ponoon, 
 
 To the midst of the wild Glenstrae, 
 
 A castle which yet stands; 
 
 Where the young Macgregor had thrown a 
 
 The king well pleas'd as a reward 
 
 lance, 
 
 Did therefore give him lands ; 
 
 And wounded a hart that day. 
 
 And some time after gave his niece, 
 
 The deer o'er each other's path had Cross'd, 
 
 Of Eglintoun the heir, 
 
 As they kept on their blood-track'd flight, 
 
 To Sir Hugh's representative; 
 
 Until one sunk down on the heathei bed, 
 
 Thus joined was this pair. 
 
 And died in the hunter's sight. 
 
 As with her came a great estate, 
 
 They met in a proud and angry mood, 
 
 So by her did descend 
 
 Who had never met before ; 
 
 Her royal blood to Lennox^: house, 
 
 And a strife arose o'er the fallen prey, 
 
 Which did in Darnly end, 
 
 And each drew his broad claymore. 
 In vain, in vain, did the Gregor's son 
 
 
 * See Percy's Reliques, vol. I. p. 18, ed. 1794. 
 
 On his rival hunter dart, 
 
 t Histories of Scotland. 
 
 For Lamond his shining weapon raised 
 
 $ Earl of Lennox. - 
 
 i And buried it in his heart. 
 
oCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 257 
 
 He fled, pursued by his foeman's clan, 
 
 But he soon outstript them all ; 
 And when he had wander'd long and far. 
 
 He came to an ancient hall. 
 
 And he look'd on the face of an aged man, 
 
 And he told him of the fray ; 
 And the old man sheltered and fed the youth 
 
 Till the close of that fatal day. 
 
 But soon he heard from a hundred lips 
 
 That his only child was slain, 
 That the last hope of a mighty clan 
 
 Would never breathe again. 
 
 He had foes around him — his strength wa3 
 gone, 
 
 And his race was nearly run ; 
 And he wept with a lone and a desolate heart 
 
 O'er the fate of his noble son. 
 
 But his word was pass'd to the stranger youth, 
 
 And he led him forth at night, 
 While the clan of Maegregor dream'd revenge, 
 
 And grasp'd their weapons bright. 
 
 He led him forth to broad Lochfine, 
 
 Where a bark was seen to ride, 
 And he soon was borne o'er the darkling waves, 
 
 Once more to his own burn-side. 
 
 " Henceforth," at parting, Maegregor said, 
 " Thou must know n.e for thy foe : 
 
 Oh ! he well may fear a sire's revenge, 
 Who has laid his hopes so low." 
 
 The barque shot off. and the old man turn'd, 
 
 With a feeble step, to roam 
 Through the lonely glens and the misty braes, 
 
 To his sad and childless home. 
 
 But evil days o'er the good laird came, 
 
 And he lost that home for aye ; 
 And he left — and he left with a broken heart 
 
 The scenes of his loved Glenstrae. 
 
 Young Lamond then sought the wand 'ring man, 
 
 And open'd his hall-door wide, 
 And he tended his wants with filial care 
 
 Till the aged chieftain died. 
 
 [" A fragment of this fine old ballad has been 
 repeatedly published under the title of 'The 
 cruel Knight.' The present edition has been 
 completed from two recited copies. Toung 
 Johnstone's reason for being ' sae late a coming 
 in,' has been suppressed, as well as a concluding 
 stanza of inferior merit, in which the catastrophe 
 is described in a manner quite satisfactory, but 
 not very poetical."— Finlay's Scottish Historical 
 and Romantic Ballads."] 
 
 Young Johnstone and the young col'nel 
 
 Sat drinking at the wine, 
 " O gin ye wad marry my sister, 
 
 Its I wad marry thine." 
 
 " I wadna marry your sister, 
 
 For a' your houses and land, 
 But I'll keep her for my leman, 
 
 When I come o'er the strand. 
 
 " I wadna marry your sister, 
 
 For a' your gowd and fee ; 
 But I'll keep her for my leman, 
 
 When 1 come o'er the sea." 
 
 Young Johnstone had a nut-brown sword/ 
 
 Hung low down by his gair, f 
 And he ritted it through the young col'nel, j 
 
 That word he ne'er spak' mair. 
 
 But he's awa' to his sister's bower, 
 
 And he's tirled at the pin ; 
 " Whar ha'e ye been, my dear Johnstone, 
 
 Sae late a coming in ? 
 
 * This was a favourite simile with our ances- 
 tors, and did not imply, as some suppose, (see 
 particularly a long note in Percy's Reliques, Vol. 
 I. p. 90. last edit.) that they allowed their 
 swords to rust from a noble contempt of appear- 
 ance, but that it was a Damascus blade. — Finlay. 
 
 f A gair is a piece of cloth inserted into a gar- 
 ment to widen it. Gair is sometimes used for 
 the whole dress, " Gainest under gore," the most 
 beautiful in dress ; a phrase of romance. — Finlay. 
 
 % Thrust it violently. The word oocurs again 
 

 
 
 
 258 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 " I've dreamed a dream this night," she says, $ 
 
 i She hadna weel gane up the stair 
 
 
 
 " I wish it may be good, 
 
 And entered in her tower, 
 
 
 
 They were seeking you with hawks and hounds, 
 
 Till four-and-twenty belted knights 
 
 
 
 And the young col'nel was dead." — * 
 
 Came riding to the door. 
 
 
 
 "They are seeking me with hawks and hounds, 
 
 " did you see a bloody squire, 
 
 
 
 As I trow well they be ; 
 
 A blooJy squire was he ; 
 
 
 
 For I have killed the young col'nel, 
 
 did you see a bloody squire 
 
 
 
 And thy own true love was he." 
 
 Come riding o'er the lea ?" 
 
 
 
 " If ye ha'e killed the young col'nel, 
 
 " What colour were his hawks ?" she cried, 
 
 
 
 A dule and woe is me ; 
 
 " What colour were his hounds? 
 
 
 
 But I wish ye may be hanged on a hie gal- 
 
 What colour was the gallant steed, 
 
 
 
 lows, 
 
 That bore him from the bounds?" 
 
 
 
 An' ha'e nae power to flee." — 
 
 " Bloody, bloody were his hawks, 
 
 
 
 And he's awa' to his lover's bower, 
 
 And bloody were his hounds, 
 
 
 
 He's tirled at the pin ; 
 
 And milk-white was the gallant steed, 
 
 
 
 " Whar ha'e ye been, my dear Johnstone, 
 
 That bore him from the bounds." 
 
 
 
 Sae late a coming in ? 
 
 " Yes, bloody, bloody were his hawks, 
 
 
 
 " I've dreamed a dream, this night," she says, 
 
 And bloody were his hounds, 
 
 
 
 I wish it may be good, 
 
 And milk-white was the gallant stee'l, 
 
 
 
 They were seeking you with hawks and hounds, 
 
 That bore him from the bounds : 
 
 
 
 And the young col'nel was dead." 
 
 " But light ye down, now, gentlemen. 
 
 
 
 " Tbey are seeking me with hawks and hounds, 
 
 And take some bread and wine; 
 
 
 
 As 1 trow well they be, 
 
 An' the steed be good he rides upon, 
 
 
 
 For I have killed the young col'nel, 
 
 He's past the bridge of Tyne." 
 
 
 
 And thy ae brother was he." 
 
 " We thank you for your bread, ladie, 
 
 
 
 " If ye ha'e killed the young col'nel, 
 
 We thank you for your wine ; 
 
 
 
 A dule and woe is me ; 
 
 I wad gi'e thrice three thousand pounds 
 
 
 
 But I gi'e na sae much for the young col'nel, 
 
 Your fair bodie was mine." — 
 
 
 
 If thy ain body is free. 
 
 " Lie still, lie still, my dear Johnstone, 
 
 
 
 " Come in, come in, my dear Johnstone, 
 
 Lie still and take a sleep, 
 
 
 
 Come in and take a sleep, 
 
 For there's four-and-twenty belted knights 
 
 
 
 And I will go to my casement, f 
 
 Just gone out at the gate." 
 
 
 
 And carefully I'll thee keep." 
 
 But young Johnstone had a wee penknife, 
 Hung low down by his gair, 
 
 
 
 in Sir Tristrem, but I believe nowhere else; in 
 
 
 
 Sir Tristrem it simply m ans cut. — Finlay. 
 
 And he ritted it through his dear ladie, 
 
 
 
 * Though the rhyme of this 6tanza may now 
 
 And wounded her sae sair. 
 
 
 
 appear licentious, it was not so formerly. Dead 
 is to this day pronounced deed in Scotland, and 
 
 
 
 
 " What aileth thee, now dear Johnstone ? 
 
 
 
 good guede in Aberdeenshire. It seems indeed 
 anciently to have been so pronounced univer- 
 sally; at least in the romance of Horn Child we 
 
 What aileth thee at me ? 
 
 
 
 Hast thou not got my father's gold, 
 Bot and my mother's fee ?" 
 
 
 
 read, 
 
 ) " Now live, now live, my dear ladie, 
 
 
 
 ' His giftes were nought guede.' — Finlay. 
 
 Now live but half an hour ; 
 
 
 
 f So the word has been corrupted ; it should 
 
 And there's no a leech in a' Scotland, 
 
 
 
 be casemate, a loop-hole in a wall. — Finlay. ^ 
 
 h But shall be in thy bower." 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 259 
 
 " How can I live, my dear Johnstone ? 
 
 How can I live for thee ? 
 O do ye na see my red heart's blood 
 
 Bun trickling down my knee ? 
 
 " But go thy way, my dear Johnstone, 
 
 And ride along the plain ; 
 And think no more of thy true love, 
 
 Than she had never been." 
 
 loiog HBvn, 
 
 [From Evans's Collection of Old Ballads.] 
 
 A lady hearing her lover had fallen in single 
 combat with his rival, calls to her attendant 
 boy: — 
 
 " O see you not yon bonnie steed, 
 
 That eats beneath the tree ? 
 O tarry not, my little boy, 
 
 But bring him fast to me." 
 
 The boy ran nimbly to the place, 
 Where fed the milk-white steed, 
 
 And brought him to the lady fair, 
 Who mounted him with speed. 
 
 The whip she plied — the courser flew, 
 
 The dust in clouds did rise, 
 And soon she spied the dowy Den 
 
 Where her true lover lies. 
 
 But now the panting steed she stop'd, 
 And on the ground she sprung, 
 
 Then hied her to the fatal place. 
 With trees and bushes hung. 
 
 A dreary place, I ween, it was, 
 
 And mournful to behold ; 
 Above — the winds did doleful blow, 
 
 Below — dark waters roll'd. 
 
 All cold and pale the youth was laid 
 
 Fast by the rueful flood ; 
 A breathless corse outstreteh'd he lay, 
 
 And all besmear'd with blood. i 
 
 " sight of woe !" she cried and ran 
 
 To where her lover lay, 
 Then, like an aspin, quiv'ring stood, 
 
 And gaz'd on the cold clay. 
 
 That breast where oft thou, love-sick maid 
 
 Hast laid thy languid head, 
 Doth now present the ghastly wound 
 
 Made by the deathful blade. 
 
 Those yellow locks, that oft with joy 
 
 Thy lily hand hath bound, 
 Toss'd by the wind, now loosely flow 
 
 Neglected on the ground. 
 
 How cold and wan at noon that cheek, 
 Where glow'd at morn the rose ! 
 
 Those beauteous eyes the sleep of death 
 Doth now for ever close. 
 
 In silent anguish fix'd she stood, 
 
 And o'er the body hung, 
 Then stooping, grasp'd and kiss'd the hand, 
 
 And sighing, thus began: 
 
 " Nor wealth nor grandeur pow'r could have 
 
 My faithful heart to shake ; 
 For thee it beat, O much lov'd boy ! 
 
 For thee it now doth break. 
 
 '* Why did thy wrathful rival think 
 
 His sword could us disjoin ? 
 Did he not know that love had made 
 
 My life but one with thine ? 
 
 " Then, haughty baron, know it now, 
 
 Nor hope I'll be thy bride; 
 With this dear youth I joy to die, 
 
 Contemn thy pomp and pride. 
 
 " And thou, my father, come and see 
 
 How low thy daughter lies ; 
 From crossing virtuous love, behold 
 
 What dire misfortunes rise. 
 
 " hapless youth ! — But ah ! no more 
 Her fault'ring tongue could say j 
 
 Then softly sunk upon his breast, 
 And breath'd her soul away. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 26Q SCOTTISH BALLAD-,. 
 
 
 He courted toe eldest with broach and knife; 
 
 
 
 
 Binnorie, Binnorie; 
 
 
 
 ®fje ®tud jbfeter. 
 
 But he lo'ed the youngest abune his life; 
 By the bonnie miiidams of Binnorie. 
 
 
 
 [ThU ballad differs essentially from that which 
 
 The eldest she was vexed sair; 
 
 
 
 has been published in various collections, under 
 
 Binnorie, Binnorie; 
 
 
 
 the title of Binnorie. It is compiled from a copy 
 
 ! And sore envied her ;;-. fa 
 
 
 
 in Mrs Brown's MSS., intermixed with a beauti- 
 
 By the bonnie miiidams of Binnorie. 
 
 
 
 ful fragment, of fourteen verses, transmitted to the 
 
 
 
 
 editor by J. C. Walker, Esq. the ingenious histo- 
 
 The eldest said to the youngest ane, 
 
 
 
 rian of the Irish bards. Mr Walker, at the same 
 
 Binnor 
 
 
 
 time, favoured the editor with the following note : 
 
 " Will ye go and see our father's ships come la? ' 
 
 
 
 "I am indebted to my departed friend, Miss Brook, 
 
 ! bonnie miiidams of Binnorie. 
 
 
 
 for the foregoing pathetic fragment Her account 
 
 
 
 
 of it was as follows : This song was transcribed, 
 
 She's ta'en her by the lilly hand, 
 
 
 
 several years ago, from the memory of an old 
 
 Binn-.r e 
 
 
 
 woman, who had no recolJeetiou of toe conclud- 
 
 And led her down to the river strand; 
 
 
 
 ing verses: probably the beginning may also be 
 
 By the bonnie miiidams of Binnorie. 
 
 
 
 lost, as it seems to commence abruptly." The 
 
 
 
 
 first verse and burden of the fragment run thus: 
 
 The youngest stude upon a tU 
 Binno; 
 
 
 
 O sister, sister, reach thy hand! 
 
 And the eldest cane and pushed her in ; 
 
 
 
 Hey ho, my Nanny, O, 
 And you sliail be heir of ali my land, 
 
 By the bonnie miiidams of Binnorie. 
 
 
 
 "While the swan swims bonnie, O. 
 
 She took her by the middle cma', 
 
 
 
 The first part of this chorus seems to be cor- 
 
 . d norie ; 
 
 
 
 rupted from the common burden of Hey, Nonny, 
 
 And dashed her bonnie back to * 
 
 
 
 i-unuy, alluding to the song, beginning, " Sigh 
 
 By the bonnie miiidams of Bin 
 
 
 
 no more, ladytt." The chorus, retained in this 
 
 
 
 
 edition, is the most common and popular; but 
 
 " sister, sister, reach your hand," 
 
 
 
 Mrs Brown's copy bears a yet different burden, 
 
 Bin nor 
 
 
 
 beginning thus: 
 
 " And ye shall be heir of half my land." 
 By the bonnie miiidams of Binnorie. 
 
 
 
 There were twa sisters sat in a bour, 
 
 
 
 
 Kdirib'jrough, Kdinborough; 
 There were twa sisters sat in a bour, 
 
 " sister, I'll not reach my hand," 
 
 
 
 for aye; 
 
 
 
 
 There were twa suters sat in a bour, 
 
 "And I'll be heir of all y<rj.r land;" 
 
 
 
 There cam' a i .. ooer, 
 iionnie hi Johnstaun stands u;.-. 
 
 By the bonnie miiidams of Binnorie. 
 
 
 
 The ballad, being probably very popular, was 
 
 " Shame fe' the hand that I should take,* 
 
 
 
 the subject of a parody, which is to be found in 
 
 Binno: 
 
 
 
 D'Urfey's " Pills to purge Melancholy."— Min- 
 
 " It's twin'd me, and my world's make.'' 
 
 
 
 ttrelty of the Scottish Border.] 
 
 By the bonnie miiidams of Binnorie. 
 
 
 
 Th.erb were twa sfcters sat in a bour; 
 
 " sister, reach me but your glove," 
 
 
 
 Binnorie, Binnorie; 
 
 Binnor 
 
 
 
 There came a knight bo be their wooer; 
 
 " And sweet William shall be your lore." 
 
 
 
 By the bonnie miiidams of Binnorie. 
 
 By the bonnie miiidams of Binnorie. 
 
 
 
 He courted the eldest with glove and ring; 
 
 " Sink on, nor hope for hand or glove V 
 
 
 
 Binnorie, Binnorie ; 
 
 
 
 
 But he lo'ed toe youngest aboon a' thing ; 
 
 " And sweet William snail better be rf;y love." 
 
 
 
 By the bonnie miUdains of Binnorie. < 
 
 S By the bonnie miiidams of Binnorie. 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 261 
 
 
 
 ' Year cherry cheeks and your yellow hair," :£ He laid his harp upon a stone. 
 
 
 
 Binnorie, Binnorie ; 
 
 Binuorie, Binnorie ; 
 
 
 
 " G-arr'd me gang maiden evermair."' 
 
 1 And straight it began to play alone ; 
 
 
 
 By the bonnie milldams of Binnorie. 
 
 By the bonnie milldams of Binnorie. 
 
 
 
 rdw t'nii i she sunk, and sometimes she swam, 
 
 " yonder sits my father, the king," 
 
 
 
 Binnorie. Binnorie : 
 
 Binnorie, Binnorie ; 
 
 
 
 Uutil she cam' to the miller's dam, 
 
 " And yonder sits my mother, the queen ;" 
 
 
 
 By the in— »*> *"*"*""« of Binnorie. 
 
 By the bonnie milldams of Binnorie. 
 
 
 
 '..-.her, father, draw your dam!" 
 
 " And yonder stands my brother Hugh," 
 
 
 
 Binnorie, Binnorie ; [swan." 
 
 Binnorie, Binnorie ; 
 
 
 
 " There's either a mermaid, or a milk-white 
 
 " And by him my "William sweet and true." 
 
 
 
 By the bonnie milldams of Binnorie. 
 
 By the bonnie milldams of Binnorie. 
 
 
 
 The miller hasted and drew his dam, 
 
 But the last tune that the harp play'd then, 
 
 
 
 Binnorie, Binnorie ; 
 
 Binnorie, O Binnore ; 
 
 
 
 And there he found a drowned woman. 
 
 Was—" Woe to my sister, false Helen!" 
 
 
 
 By the bonnie milidams of Binnorie. 
 
 By the bonnie milldams of Binnorie. 
 
 
 
 Tou could not see her yellow bur, 
 
 
 
 
 Binnorie, Binnorie; 
 
 
 
 
 For gowd and pearls thac were sae rare, 
 
 
 
 
 By the bonnie milldams of Binnorie. 
 
 m^e ^Meji'tf J$Earte. 
 
 
 
 You could na see her middle s 
 
 
 
 
 Binnorie, B.: 
 
 [From the Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border. 
 
 
 
 Her gowden girdle was sae bra' ; 
 
 — "In the very time of the General Assembly, 
 
 
 
 By the bonnie milidams of Binnorie. 
 
 there comes to public knowledge a haynons mur- 
 ther, committed in the court; yea, not far from 
 
 
 
 A famous harper passing by, 
 
 the queen's lap; for a French woman, that 
 
 
 
 Binnorie, Binnorie; 
 
 served in the queen's chamber, had played the 
 
 
 
 The sweet pale face he chanced to spy ,- 
 
 whore with the queens own apothecary. — The 
 
 
 
 By the bonnie milldams of Binnorie. 
 
 woman conceived and bare a childe, whom, 
 with common consent, the father and mother 
 
 
 
 And when he looked that lady on, 
 
 murthered; yet were the cries of a new-borne 
 
 
 
 Binnorie, Binnorie; 
 
 childe hearde, searche was made, the childe and 
 
 
 
 He sighed, and made a heavy moan ; 
 
 the mother were both apprehended, and so were 
 
 
 
 By the bonnie milldams of Binnorie. 
 
 the man and the woman condemned to be 
 hanged in the publieke street of Edinburgh. The 
 
 
 
 He made a harp of her breast-bone, 
 
 punishment was suitable, because the crime was 
 
 
 
 Binnorie, Binnorie ; 
 
 haynous. But yet was not the court purged of 
 
 
 
 "Whose sounds would melt a heart of stone ; 
 
 whores and whoredoms, which was the foun- 
 
 
 
 3y :ae bonnie milldams of Binnorie. 
 
 xaine of such enormities : for it was well known 
 that shame hasted marriage betwixt Johu Sem- 
 
 
 
 _ ;« strings he framed of her yellow hair, 
 
 pill. called the Dancer, and Mary Levingston, 
 
 
 
 Binnorie, Binnorie ; 
 
 sirnamed the Lusty. What bruit the Maries, 
 
 
 
 "Whose notes made sad the listening ear ; 
 
 and the rest of the dancers of the court had, the 
 
 
 
 By the bonnie milldams of Binnorie. 
 
 ballads of that age do witnesse, which we, for 
 modestie's sake, omit ; but this was the common 
 
 
 
 - r'.ught it to her father's hall ; 
 
 complaint of all godly and wise men, that, if 
 
 
 
 Binnorie, Binnorie; 
 
 they thought such a court could long continue, 
 
 
 
 And there was the court assembled all ; 
 
 and if they looked for no better life to cone, they 
 
 
 
 By the bonnie milldams of Binnorie. { 
 
 ] would have wished their sonnes and daughters 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 2(52 SCOTTISH 
 
 BALLADS. 
 
 
 
 rather to have been brought up with fiddlers 4fe She hadna been about the king's court 
 
 
 
 and dancers, and to have been exercised with 
 
 A month, but barely one, 
 
 
 
 flinging upon a floore, and in the rest that 
 
 Till she was beloved by a' the king's court, 
 
 
 
 thereof followes, than to have been exercised in 
 
 And the king the only man. 
 
 
 
 the company of the godly, and exercised in vir- 
 
 
 
 
 tue, which in that court was hated, and filthe- 
 
 She hadna been about the king's court 
 
 
 
 nesse not only maintained, but also rewarded; 
 
 A month, but barely three, 
 
 
 
 witnesse the abbey of Abercorne, the barony of 
 
 Till frae the king's court Marie Hamilton, 
 
 
 
 Auchvermuchtie, and divers others, pertaining 
 
 Marie Hamilton durst na be. 
 
 
 
 to the patrimony of the crown, given in heritage 
 
 
 
 
 to skippers and dancers, anddalliers with dames. 
 
 The king is to the Abbey gane, 
 
 
 
 This was the beginning of the regiment of Mary, 
 
 To pu' the Abbey tree, 
 
 
 
 queen of Scots, and these were the fruits that 
 
 To scale the babe frae Marie's heart ; 
 
 
 
 she brought forth of France. — Lord ! look on our 
 
 But the thing it wadna be. 
 
 
 
 miseries i and deliver us from the wickednesse of 
 
 
 
 
 this corrupt court!" — Knox's History of the Re- 
 
 she has row'd it in her apron, 
 
 
 
 formation, p. 373-4.* 
 
 And set it on the sea, — 
 
 
 
 Such seems to be the subject of the following 
 
 " Gae sink ye, or swim ye, bonnie babe, 
 
 
 
 ballad, as narrated by the stern apostle of pres- 
 
 Ye's get na mair o' me." 
 
 
 
 bytery. It will readily strike the reader, that 
 
 
 
 
 the tale has suffered great alterations, as handed 
 
 "Word is to the kitchen gane, 
 
 
 
 down by tradition ; the French waiting-woman 
 
 And word is to the ha', 
 
 
 
 being changed into Mary Hamilton, and the 
 
 And word is to the noble room, 
 
 
 
 queen's apothecary into Henry Darnley. Yet 
 
 Amang the ladyes a', 
 
 
 
 this is less surprising, when we recollect, that 
 
 That Marie Hamilton's brought to bed, 
 
 
 
 ona of the heaviest of the queen's complaints 
 
 And the bonnie babe's mist and awa'. 
 
 
 
 against her ill-fated husband, was his infidelity, 
 
 
 
 
 and that even with her personal attendants. 1 
 
 Scarcely had she lain down again, 
 
 
 
 have been enabled to publish the following com- 
 
 And scarcely fa'n asleep, 
 
 
 
 pile edition of the ballad, by copies from various 
 
 When up then started our gude queen, 
 
 
 
 quarters; that principally used was communi- 
 
 Just at her bed-feet; 
 
 
 
 cated to me, in the most polite manner, by Mr 
 
 Saying — " Marie Hamilton, where's your 
 
 
 
 Kirkpatiicke Sharpe, of Hoddom, to whom 1 am 
 
 babe? 
 
 
 
 indebted for maoy similar favours.— Scott's Min- 
 
 For I am sure I heard it greet." 
 
 
 
 strelsy ] 
 
 " no, no, my noble queen I 
 
 
 
 Marie Hamilton's to the kirk gane, 
 
 Think no such thing to be ; 
 
 
 
 Wi' ribbons on her hair; 
 
 'Twas but a stitch into my side, 
 
 
 
 The king thought mair o' Marie Hamilton, 
 
 And sair it troubles me." 
 
 
 
 Than ony that were there. 
 
 " Get up, get up, Marie Hamilton : 
 
 
 
 Marie Hamilton's to the kirk gane, 
 
 Get up, and follow me ; 
 
 
 
 Wi' libbons on her breast; 
 
 For I am going to Edinburgh t'-wn, 
 
 
 
 The king thought mair o' Marie Hamilton, 
 
 A rich wedding for to see." 
 
 
 
 Thau he listen'd to the priest. 
 
 slowly, slowly, raise she up, 
 
 
 
 Marie Hamilton's to the kirk gane, 
 
 And slowly put she on ; 
 
 
 
 Wi' gluves upon her hands; 
 
 And slowly rode she out the way, 
 
 
 
 The king thought mair o' Marie Hamilton, 
 
 Wi' mony a weary groan. 
 
 
 
 Than the queen and a' her lands. 
 
 The queen was clad in scarlet, 
 Her merry maids all in green ; 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 * A veiy odd coincidence, in name, crime, and ca- 
 tastrophe, occurred at the court of Czar Peter the 
 
 And every town that they cam' to, 
 
 
 
 Great. — Scott. < 
 
 & They took Marie for the queen. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 263 
 
 " Ride hooly, hooly, gentlemen, 
 
 Hide hooly now wi' me ! 
 For never, I am sure, a wearier burd 
 
 Rade in your cumpanie." 
 
 But little wist Marie Hamilton, 
 
 When she rade on the brown, 
 That she was gaen to Edinburgh town, 
 
 And a' to be put down. 
 
 " Why weep ye so, ye burgess wives, 
 
 Why look ye so on me ? 
 O. I am going to Edinburgh town, 
 
 A rich wedding for to see." 
 
 When she gaed up the tolbooth stairs, 
 The corks frae her heels did flee ; 
 
 4nd lang or e'er she cam' down again. 
 She was condemned to dee. 
 
 When she cam to the Netherbow-port,* 
 She laughed loud laughters three ; 
 
 But when she cam' to the gallows foot, 
 The tears blinded her e'e. 
 
 " Yestreen the queen had four Maries, 
 The night she'll ha'e but three ;t 
 
 There was Marie Seaton, and Marie Beaton, 
 And Marie Carmichael, and me. 
 
 * The Netherbow-port was the gate which 
 divided the city of Edinburgh from the suburb, 
 called the Ganongate. It had towers and a 
 spire, which formed a fine termination to the 
 view from the cross. The gate was pulled down 
 in one of those fits of rage for indiscriminate 
 destruction, with which the magistrates of a 
 corporation are sometimes visited. — Scutt. 
 
 f The queen's Maries were four young ladies 
 of the highest families in Scotland, who were 
 sent to France in her train, and returned with 
 her to Scotland. They are mentioned by Knox, 
 in the quotation introductory to this ballad. 
 Keith gives us their names, p. 55. " The young 
 queen, Mary, embarked at Dunbarton for France, 
 
 and with her went, , and four 
 
 young virgins, all of the name of Mary, viz. 
 Livingston, Fleming, Seaton, and Beatoun." 
 The queen's Maries are mentioned again by the 
 same author, p. 288 and 291, in the note. Nei- 
 ther Mary Livingston, nor Mary Fleming, are 
 mentioned in the ballad; nor are the Mary 
 Hamilton, and Mary Carmichael, of the ballad, 
 
 " O, often have i dress'd my queen, 
 And put gold upon her hair ; 
 
 But now I've gotten for my reward 
 The gallows to be my share ; 
 
 " Often have I dress'd my queen, 
 
 And often made her bed ; 
 But now I've gotten for my reward 
 
 The gallows tree to tread. 
 
 " I charge ye all, ye mariners, 
 
 When ye sail ower the faern, 
 Let neither my father nor mother get wit 
 
 But that I'm coming hame. 
 
 " I charge ye all, ye mariners, 
 
 That sail upon the sea, 
 Let neither my father nor mother get wit 
 
 This dog's death I'm to dee. 
 
 " For if my father and mother got wit, 
 And my bold brethren three, 
 
 O rnickle wad be the gude red blude, 
 This day wad be spilt for me i 
 
 " O little did my mother ken, 
 
 The day she cradled me, 
 The lands I was to travel in, 
 
 Or the death I wa3 to dee." 
 
 MARY HAMILTON. 
 
 [•From Motherwell's Collection. As tradi. 
 tionally preserved in the West of Scotland.] 
 
 There lives a knight into the north, 
 
 And he had daughters three ; 
 The ane of them was a barber's wife, 
 
 The other a gay ladie; 
 
 mentioned by Keith. But if this corps con- 
 tinued to consist of young virgins, as when 
 originally raised, it could hardly have subsisted 
 without occasional recruits ; especially if we trust 
 our old bard, and John Knox. 
 
 The queen's Maries are mentioned in many 
 ballads, and the name seems to have passed into 
 a general denomination for female attendants-' 
 Now bear a hand my Maries a', 
 And busk me brave, and make me fine. 
 
 Old Ballad.— Scott 
 

 
 264 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 
 And the youngest o* them to Scotland is gane v 
 
 " I will not put on my robps of Mack. 
 
 
 
 The queen's Mary to be, 
 
 Nor yet my robes of brown ; 
 
 
 
 And for a" that they could say or do 
 
 But I will put on my yellow gold stuJl*, 
 
 
 
 Forbidden Bhe wouldna be. 
 
 To shine through Edinburgh town." 
 
 
 
 The prince's bed it was sae Baft, 
 
 As she went up the Parliament Close, 
 
 
 
 The spices they were sae fine, 
 
 A riding on her horse, 
 
 
 
 That out of it she could not lye 
 
 There she saw many a Burgess' lady 
 
 
 
 "While she was scarce fifteen. 
 
 Sit greeting at the cross. 
 
 
 
 She's gane to the garden gay 
 
 " what means a' this greeting, 
 
 
 
 To pu' of the Savin tree, 
 
 I'm sure its nae lor me, 
 
 
 
 But for a' that she could say or do 
 
 For I'm come this day to Edinburgh town 
 
 
 
 The babie it would not dee. 
 
 Weel wedded fur to be." 
 
 
 
 She's rowed it in her handkerchief, 
 
 When she gade up the Parliament stair, 
 
 
 
 She threw it in the 6ea, 
 
 She gied loud lauchters three; 
 
 
 
 Says, — " Sink ye, swim ye, my bonnie babe, 
 
 But ere that she had come down again, 
 
 
 
 For ye'll get nae mair of me." 
 
 She was condemned to dee. 
 
 
 
 Queen Mary came tripping down the stair, 
 
 " little did my mother think 
 
 
 
 Wi' the gold strings in her hair ; 
 
 The day she prinned my gown, 
 
 
 
 " whare's the little babie," she says, 
 
 That 1 was to come sae far frae hame 
 
 
 
 " That I heard greet sae sair i" 
 
 To be hanged in Edinburgh town. 
 
 
 
 " hald your tongue, Queen Mary, my dame, 
 
 "0 what'll my poor father think, 
 
 
 
 Let all those words go free ; 
 
 As he comes through the town, 
 
 
 
 It was mysel' wi' a fit o' the sair colic, 
 
 To see the face of his Molly fair 
 
 
 
 I was sick j ust like to dee." 
 
 Hanging on the gallows pin. 
 
 
 
 " hald your tongue, Mary Hamilton, 
 Let all those words go free ; 
 
 " Here's a health to the mariners 
 That plough the raging main ; 
 Let neither my mtther nor father ken 
 
 
 
 O where is the little babie 
 
 That I heard weep by thee ?" 
 
 But I'm coming hame again. 
 " Here's a health to the sailors 
 
 
 
 " I rowed it in my handkerchief, 
 
 That sail upon the sea ; 
 
 
 
 And threw it in the sea ; 
 
 Let neither my mother nor father ken 
 
 
 
 I bade it sink, I bade it swim, 
 
 That I came here to dee. 
 
 
 
 It would get nae mair o' me." 
 
 " Yestreen the Queen had four Maries, 
 
 
 
 " wae be to thee, Mary Hamilton, 
 
 This night she'll ha'e but three; 
 
 
 
 And an ill deid may you dee ; 
 
 There was Mary Beaton, and Mary Seaton. 
 
 
 
 For if you had saved the babie'B life, 
 
 And Mary Carmichael, and me." 
 
 
 
 It might ha'e been an honour to thee. 
 
 " hald your tongue, Mary Hamilton, 
 Let all those words go free ; 
 
 
 
 " Busk ye, busk ye, Mary Hamilton, 
 
 This night ere ye be hanged, 
 
 
 
 busk ye to be a bride ; 
 
 Ye shall gang hame wi' me." 
 
 
 
 For I am going to Edinburgh town 
 
 
 
 
 Tour gay wedding to bide. 
 
 " hald your tongue, Queen Mary, my dame, 
 Let all those words go free, 
 
 
 
 " Ye must not put on your robes of black, 
 
 Since I have come to Edinburgh town, 
 
 
 
 Nor yet your robes of brown ; 
 
 Its hanged I shall be ; 
 
 
 
 But you must put on your yellow gold stuffs, 
 
 For it shall ne'er be said that in your court 
 
 
 
 To shine through Edinburgh town." 
 
 I was condemned to dee.'' 
 
 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 265 
 
 &w&wfo Eammie. 
 
 [Although the persons who figure in this 
 ballad belong to a very humble class of society, 
 it is not easy for the most fastidious reader to 
 withhold his sympathies from it. It is said to 
 be founded on real circumstances : the daughter 
 of the Miller of Tifty, near Fyvie, in Aberdeen- 
 shire, fell in love with the trumpeter of the 
 Laird of Fyvie, and being prevented from mar- 
 rying him, by her father, who esteemed the 
 match beneath his- dignity, died in consequence 
 of a broken heart. Both parties are said to have 
 been remarkable for good looks. Annie's death, 
 according to her grave-stone in Fyvie church- 
 yard, took place in 1631. Andrew, however, 
 did not die, as related in the ballad. There is a 
 tradition in " the Lawland leas of Fyvie," that, 
 some years afterwards, the melancholy fate of 
 Tifty's Annie being mentioned, and the ballad 
 sung in a company in Edinburgh where he was 
 present, he remained silent and motionless, till 
 at length he was discovered by a groan suddenly 
 bursting from him, and several of the buttons 
 flying from his waistcoat. This will remind the 
 reader of King Lear calling to his attendants to 
 unbutton him, and also of a circumstance which 
 occurs in the beautiful ballad of " the Marchio- 
 ness of Douglas." It would appear that, in 
 Allan Ramsay's day, " Bonnie Andrew Lam- 
 mie'' was a person of traditional celebrity. In 
 the beginning of that poet's third canto of 
 " Christ's Kirk on the Green," a good old free- 
 spoken cummer, as the best evidence of the 
 power of her youthful charms, says — 
 
 " I'se warrant ye have a' heard tell 
 
 O 5 bonnie Andrew Lauimie; 
 Stiffly in love wi' me he fell, 
 
 As soon as e'er he saw me — 
 
 That was a day !"— Chambers.] 
 
 At Mill o* Tifty liv'd a man, 
 In the neighbourhood of Fyvie; 
 
 He had a lovely daughter fair, 
 Was called bonnie Annie. 
 
 Her bloom was like the springing flower, 
 That salutes the rosy morning ; 
 
 With innocence, and graceful mien, 
 
 Her beauteous form adorning. j 
 
 Lord Fyvie had a trumpeter, 
 
 Whose name was Andrew Lammie ; 
 He had the art to gain the heart 
 
 Of Mill o' Tlftie's Annie. 
 
 Proper he was, both young and gay, 
 
 His like was not in Fyvie; 
 No one was there that could compare 
 
 With this same Andrew Lammie. 
 
 Lord Fyvie he rode by the door, 
 Where lived Tlftie's Annie ; 
 
 His trumpeter rode him before, 
 Even this same Andrew Lammie, 
 
 Her mother call'd her to the door, 
 " Come here to me, my Annie; 
 
 Did your ever see a prettier man, 
 Than this trumpeter of Fyvie ?" 
 
 She sighed sore but said no more, 
 
 Alas ! for bonnie Annie ; 
 She durst not own her heart was won 
 
 By the trumpeter of Fyvie. 
 
 At night when they went to their beds 
 All slept full sound but Annie; 
 
 Love so opprest her tender breast, 
 Thinking on Andrew Lammie. 
 
 " Love comes in at my bed side, 
 And love lies down beyond me ; 
 
 Love has possess'd my tender breast, 
 And love will waste my body. 
 
 " The first time I and my love met, 
 Was in the woods of Fyvie ; 
 
 His lovely form and speech so sweet, 
 Soon gain'd the heart of Annie. 
 
 " He call'd me mistress, I said, No, 
 
 I'm Tiftie's bonnie Annie; 
 With apples sweet, he did me treat, 
 
 And kisses soft and many. 
 
 " Its up and down in Tiftie's den, 
 Where the burn rins clear and bonnie 
 
 I've often gone to meet my love, 
 My bonnie Andrew Lammie." 
 
 But now, alas ! her father heard, 
 That the trumpeter of Fyvie 
 
 Had had the art to gain the heart 
 Of Tiftie's bonnie Annie. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 266 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 Her father soon a letter wrote, & " I'll buy to thee a bridal gown. 
 
 
 
 And sent it on to Fyvie, 
 
 My love I'll buy it bonnie;" 
 
 
 
 To tell his daughter was hewitch'd 
 
 " But I'll be dead ere ye come back 
 
 
 
 By his servant Andrew Lammie. 
 
 To see your bonnie Annie." 
 
 
 
 "When Lord Fyvie had this letter read, 
 
 " If you'll be true and constant too, 
 
 
 
 dear ! but he was sorry ; 
 
 As my name's Andrew Lammie; 
 
 
 
 . The bonniest lass in Fyvie's land 
 
 I shall thee wed when I come back 
 
 
 
 Is bewitched by Andrew Lammie. 
 
 To see the lands of Fyvie." 
 
 
 
 Then up the stair his trumpeter 
 
 " I will be true and constant too, 
 
 
 
 He called soon and shortly ; 
 
 To thee my Andrew Lammie, 
 
 
 
 " Pray tell me soon, What's this you've done, 
 
 But my bridal bed will ere then be made 
 
 
 
 To Tiftie's bonnie Annie?" 
 
 In the green church-yard of Fyvie." 
 
 
 
 " In wicked art I had no part, 
 
 " Our time is gone and now comes on, 
 
 
 
 Nor therein am I canny ; 
 
 My dear, that I must leave thee ; 
 
 
 
 True love alone the heart has won, 
 
 If longer here I should appear, 
 
 
 
 Of Tiftie's bonnie Annie. 
 
 Mill o' Tiftie he would see me." 
 
 
 
 " "Woe betide Mill o' Tiftie's pride, 
 
 " I now for ever bid adieu 
 
 
 
 For it has ruin'd many ; 
 
 To thee my Andrew Lammie ; 
 
 
 
 He'll no ha'e't said that she should wed 
 
 Ere ye come back, I will be laid 
 
 
 
 The trumpeter of Fyvie. 
 
 In the green church-yard of Fyvie." 
 
 
 
 " Where will I find a boy so kind, 
 
 He hied him to the head of the house, 
 
 
 
 That '11 carry a letter canny, 
 
 To the house top of Fyvie; 
 
 
 
 Who will run on to Tifties town, 
 
 He blew his trumpet loud and schill, 
 
 
 
 Give it to my love Annie ?" 
 
 'Twas heard at Mill o' Tiftie. 
 
 
 
 " Here you shall find a boy so kind, 
 
 Her father lock'd the door at night, 
 
 
 
 Who '11 carry a letter canny ; 
 
 Laid by the keys fu' canny ; 
 
 
 
 Who will run on to Tiftie's town, 
 
 And when he heard the trumpet sound, 
 
 
 
 And gi'e't to thy love Annie." 
 
 Said, " Your cow is lowing, Annie." 
 
 
 
 " Its Tiftie he has daughters three, 
 
 " My father dear, I pray forbear, 
 
 
 
 Who all are wond'rous bonnie; 
 
 And reproach no more your Annie; 
 
 
 
 But ye'll ken her o'er a' the lave, 
 
 For I'd rather hear that cow to low, 
 
 
 
 Gi'e that to bonnie Annie." 
 
 Than ha'e a' the kine in Fyvie. 
 
 
 
 " Its up and down in Tiftie's den, 
 
 " I would not for my braw new gown, 
 
 
 
 Where the burn runs clear and bonnie ; 
 
 And a' your gifts so many, 
 
 
 
 There wilt thou come and meet thy love, 
 
 That it were told in Fyvie's land, 
 
 
 
 Thy bonnie Andrew Lammie. 
 
 How cruel you are to Annie. 
 
 
 
 " When wilt thou come, and I'll attend, 
 
 " But if ye strike me I will cry, 
 
 
 
 My love 1 long to see thee?" 
 
 And gentlemen will hear roe; 
 
 
 
 " Thou may'st come to the Bridge of Sleugh, 
 
 Lord Fyvie will be riding by, 
 
 
 
 And there I'll come and meet thee. 
 
 And he'll come in and see me." 
 
 
 
 " My love, I go to Edinbro', 
 
 At the same time, the lord came in, 
 
 
 
 And for a while must leave thee j" 
 
 He said, " What ails thee Annie ?" 
 
 
 
 She sighed sore, and said no more, 
 
 " 'Tis all for love now I must die, 
 
 
 
 " But I wish that I were wi' thee." i 
 
 ^ For bonnie Andrew Lammie." 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 26: 
 
 " Pray Mill o' Tifty gi'e consent, 
 And let your daughter marry." 
 
 * It will be with some higher match, 
 Than the trumpeter of Fyvie." 
 
 " If she were come of as high a kind, 
 As she's adorned with beauty ; 
 
 I would take her unto myself, 
 And make her mine own lady." 
 
 " Its Fyvie's lands are fair and wide, 
 And they are rich and bonnie ; 
 
 I would not leave my own true love, 
 For all the lands of Fyvie." 
 
 Her father struck her wond'rous sore, 
 
 As also did her mother ; 
 Her sisters always did her scorn ; 
 
 But woe be to her brother. 
 
 Lord Fyvie he did wring his hands. 
 Said, " Alas! for Tiftie s Annie, 
 
 The fairest flower's cut down by love, 
 That e'er sprung up in Fyvie." 
 
 " O woe betide Mill o' Tiftie's pride, 
 He might have let them marry: 
 
 I should have given them both to live, 
 Into the lands of Fyvie." 
 
 Her father sorely now laments 
 The loss of his dear Annie, 
 
 And wishes he had gi'en consent, 
 To wed with Andrew Lammie. 
 
 Her mother grieves both air and late, 
 Her sister's cause they scorn 'd her; 
 
 Surely her brother doth mourn and gr 
 For the cruel usage he'd given her. 
 
 Her brother struck her wond'rous sore, 
 With cruel strokes and many ; 
 
 He brake her back in the hall door, 
 For liking Andrew Lammie. 
 
 " Alas ! my father and mother dear, 
 "Why 30 cruel to your Annie .-> 
 
 My heart was broken first by love, 
 My brother has broken my body. 
 
 •' mother dear make ye my bed, 
 
 And lay my face to Fyvie ; 
 Thus will I ly, and thus will die, 
 
 For my love Andrew Lammie ! 
 
 " Te neighbours hear both far and nea 
 
 Ye pity Tiftie's Annie ; 
 Who dies for love of one poor lad, 
 
 For bonnie Andrew Lammie. 
 
 " No kind of vice e'er stain 'd my life, 
 If or hurt my virgin honour ; 
 
 My youthful heart was won by love, 
 But death will me excner." 
 
 Her mother then she made her bed, 
 And laid her face to Fyvie ; 
 
 Her tender heart it soon did break, 
 And ne'er saw Andrew Lammie. 
 
 But the word soon went up and down, 
 Through all the lands of Fyvie; 
 
 That she was dead and buried, 
 Even Tiftie's bonnie Annie. 
 
 But now, alas ! it was too late, 
 For they could not recall her ; 
 
 Through life, unhappy is their fate, 
 Because they did controul her. 
 
 When Andrew name from Edinburgh ea:£ 
 With meikle grief and sorrow; 
 
 " My love has died for me tj-day, 
 I'll die for her to-morrow. 
 
 "Now I will on to Tiftie's den, 
 
 Where the burn rins clear and bonnie; 
 
 With tears I'll view the bridge of Sleugh, 
 Where I parted last with Annie. 
 
 " Then will I speed to the church-yard, 
 To the green church-yard of Fyvie ; 
 
 With tears I'll water my love's grave, 
 Till I follow Tiftie's Annie." 
 
 Ye parents grave, who children haw, 
 
 In crushing them be canny ; 
 Lest when too late you do repent, 
 
 Remember Tiftie's Annie. 
 
 * In one printed copy, this is "Sheugh,"' and in a 
 recited copy, it was called " Skew ;" which is the 
 right reading, the editor, from his ignorance of 
 the topography of the lands of F* vie, is unable to 
 say. It is a received superstition in Scotland, 
 that when friends or lovers part at a bridge, 
 they shall never again meet. — Motherwell. 
 
268 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 H©|Ek Jraa, 
 
 [This ballad was first printed in an imperfect 
 state in the Tea Table Miscellany. Mr Finlay in 
 his collection gave a more complete version, 
 which we here follow. In Mr Chambers's Pic- 
 ture of Scotland, we have this account of the 
 circumstances on which the ballad was founded. 
 — " John, the sixth Earl of Cassilis, a stern cove- 
 nanter, and of whom it is recorded by Bishop 
 Burnet, that he never would permit his language 
 to be understood but in its direct sense, obtained 
 to wife Lady Jean Hamilton, a daughter of Tho- 
 mas, first Earl of Haddington, a man of singular 
 genius, who had raised himself from the Scottish 
 bar to a peerage and the best fortune of his time. 
 The match, as is probable from the character of 
 the parties, seems to have been one dictated by 
 policy ; for Lord Haddington was anxious to 
 connect himself with the older peers, and Lord 
 Cassilis might have some such anxiety to be 
 allied to his father-in-law's good estates; the 
 religion and politics of the parties, moreover, 
 were the same. It is therefore not very likely 
 thit Lady Jean herself had much to say in the 
 bargain. On the contrary, says report, her affec- 
 tions were shamefully violated. She had been 
 previously beloved by a gallant young knight, a 
 Sir John Faa of Dunbar, who had perhaps seen 
 her at her father's seat of Tynningham, which is 
 not more than three miles from that town. 
 When several years were spent and gone, and 
 Lady Cassilis had brought her husband three 
 children, this passion led to a dreadful catastro- 
 phe. Her youthful lover, seizing an opportunity 
 when the Earl was attending the Assembly of 
 Divines at Westminster, came to Cassilis Castle, 
 a massive old tower on the banks of the Doon, 
 four miles from May bole, then the principal 
 residence of the family, and which is still to be 
 seen in its original state. He was disguised as a 
 gypsy, and attended by a band of these desperate 
 outcasts. In the words of the ballad, 
 
 " They cuist the glaumourye ower her." 
 
 But love has a glamourye for the eyes much 
 more powerful than that supposed of old to be 
 practised by wandering gypsies, and which must 
 have been the only magic used on this occasion. 
 
 The Countess condescended to elope with her 
 lover. Most unfortunately, ere they had pro- 
 ceeded very far, the Earl came home, and, learn- 
 ing the fact, immediately set out in pursuit. 
 Accompanied by a band which put resistance 
 out of the question, he overtook them, and cap- 
 tured the whole party, at a ford over the Doon, 
 still called the Gypsies' Steps, a few miles from 
 the castle. He brought them back to Cassilis, 
 and there hanged all the Gypsies, including the 
 hapless Sir John, upon 'the Dule Tree,' a 
 splendid and most umbrageous plane, which yet 
 flourishes upon a mound in front of the castle 
 gate, and which was his gallows-in-ordinary, as 
 the name testifies. As for the Countes?, whose 
 indiscretion occasioned all this waste of human 
 life, she was taken by her husband to a window 
 in front of the castle, and there, by a refinement 
 of cruelty, compelled to survey the dreadful 
 scene— to see, one after another, fifteen gallant 
 men put to death, and at last to witness the 
 dying agonies of him who had first been dear to 
 her, and who had j erilled all that men esteem in 
 her behalf. The particular room in the stately 
 old house where the unhappy lady endured this 
 horrible torture, is still called ' the Countess's 
 Boom.' After undergoing a short confinement 
 in that apartment, the house belonging to the 
 family at Maybole was fitted for her reception, 
 by the addition of a fine projecting stair-case, 
 upon which were carved heads representing 
 those of her lover and his band ; and she was re- 
 moved thither and confined for the rest cf her 
 life — the Earl in the meantime marrying another 
 wife. One of her daughters, Lady Margaret, was 
 afterwards married to the celebrated Gilbert 
 Burnet. While confined in Maybole Castle, she 
 is said to have wrought a prodigious quantity of 
 tapestry, so as to have completely covered the 
 walls of her prison ; but no vestige of it is now 
 to be seen, the house having been repaired, 
 (otherwise ruined,) a few years ago, when size- 
 paint had become a more fashionable thing in 
 Maybole than tapestry. The effigies of the 
 gypsies are very minute, being subservient to the 
 decoration of a fine triple window at the top of 
 the stair-case, and stuck upon the tops and 
 bottoms of a series of little pilasters, which 
 adorn that part of the building. The head of 
 Johnie Faa himself is distinct from the rest, 
 larger, and more lachrymose in the expression of 
 the features. Some windows in the upper flat of 
 Cassilis Castle are similarly adorned : but regard- 
 *k, ing them tradition is silent."] 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 269 
 
 Thb gypsies cam' to our gude lord's yett, 
 
 And O but they sang sweetly ; 
 They sang sae sweet and sae very complete, 
 
 That doun cam' our fair lady. 
 
 And she cam' tripping down the stair, 
 
 And all her maids before her ; 
 As sune as they saw her weel-fa'ured face, 
 
 They ouist the glaumourye* ower her. 
 
 * O come with me," says Johnie Faa; 
 
 " O come with me, my dearie ; 
 For 1 vow and I swear by the hilt of my sword, 
 
 That your lord shall nae mair come near ye !" 
 
 Then she gied them the gude wheit breid, 
 
 And they ga'e her the ginger; 
 But she gied them a far better thing, 
 
 The gowd ring aff her finger. 
 
 " Gae tak' frae me this gay mantil, 
 
 And bring to me a plaidie ; 
 For if kith and kin and a' had sworn, 
 
 I'll follow the gipsey ladd.e. 
 
 " Yestreen I lay in a weel-made bed, 
 
 Wi' my gude lord beside me; 
 This night I'll lie in a tenant's barn, 
 
 Whatever shall betide me." 
 
 " Come to your bed," says Johnie Faa; 
 
 " Come to your bed, my dearie ; 
 For I vow and 1 swear by the hilt o' my sword, 
 
 That your lord shall nae mair come near ye." 
 
 " I'll go to bed to my Johnie Faa; 
 
 I'll go to bed to my dearie ; 
 For 1 vow and I swear by the fan in my hand, 
 
 That my lord shall nae mair come near me. 
 
 " I'll mak* a hap to my Johnie Faa : 
 
 I'll mak' a hap to my dearie ; 
 And he's get a' the sash gats round, 
 
 And my lord shall nae mair come near m 
 
 And when our lord cam' hame at e'en, 
 
 And speired for his fair lady, 
 The tane she cried, aud the other replied, 
 
 " She's away wi' the gipsy laddie." 
 
 * A species of magical illusion, which the | 
 gypsies were formerly believed to exercise. 
 
 Cliatnbers 
 
 " Gae saddle to me the black black steec'. 
 
 Gae saddle and mak' him ready ; 
 Before that I either eat or sleep, 
 
 I'll gae seek my fair lady." 
 
 And we were fifteen weel-made men, 
 Although we were na bonnie ; 
 
 And we were a put down for ane, 
 A fair young wanton lady. 
 
 IHjie §'m of JrE£itoMgl)t 
 
 [This ballad first appeared in a complete shape 
 in Mr Sharp's "North Country Garland." The 
 story on which it is founded is thus narrated by 
 Mr Chambers. — " A mortal feud having arisen 
 betwixt the Laird of Frendraught and the Laird 
 of Rothiemay, both gentlemen of Banffshire, a 
 rencontre took place, at which the retainers of 
 both were present, on the 1st of January, 1630; 
 when Rothiemay was killed, and several persons 
 hurt on both sides. To staunch this bloody 
 quarrel, the Marquis of Huntly, who was chief to 
 both parties, and who had therefore a right to 
 act as arbiter between them, ordered Frend- 
 raught to pay fifty thousand merks to Rothie- 
 may's widow. In the ensuing September, Frend- 
 raught fell into another quarrel, in the course of 
 which James Lesly, son to Lesly of Pitcaple, was 
 shot through the arm. Soon after the last inci- 
 dent, Frendraught having paid a visit to the 
 Marquis of Huntly at the Bog of Gight, the 
 Laird of Pitcaple came up with thirty armed men 
 to demand atonement for the wound of his son. 
 Huntly acted in this case with great discretion. 
 Without permitting the two lairds to come to a 
 conference, he endeavoured to persuade the com- 
 plaining party that Frendraught was in reality 
 innocent of his sons wound ; and, as Pitcaple 
 went away vowing vengeance, he sent Frend- 
 raught home under a strong escort, which was 
 commanded by his son the Viscount Aboyne, 
 and by the young Laird of Rothiemay, son to 
 him whom Frendraught had killed some months 
 before. The party reached Frendraught Castle 
 without being attacked by Pitcaple ; when, 
 Aboyne and Rothiemay offering to take leave of 
 Frendraught and his lady, in order to return 
 home, they were earnestly entreated by these in- 
 dividuals to remain a night, and postpone their 
 
!70 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 return till to-morrow. Being with difficulty iftward. No man can express the dolour of him 
 
 and his lady, nor yet the grief of the Viscount's 
 own dear lady, when it came to her ears, which 
 she kept to her dying day, disdaining after the 
 company of men all her life-time, following the 
 love of the turtle-dove. 
 
 " ' It is reported that upon the morn after this 
 woeful fire, the Lady Frendraught, daughter to 
 the Earl of Sutherland, and near cousin to the 
 Marquis, backed in a white plaid, and riding on 
 a small nag, having a boy leading her horse, 
 without any more in her company, in this pitiful 
 manner she came weeping and mourning to the 
 Bog, desiring entry to speak with my lord ; but 
 this was refused ; so she returned back to her 
 own house, the same gate she came, comfort- 
 less.'— Spalding's History of the Troubles in 
 Scotland. 
 
 " Suspicion formed two theories regarding the 
 cause of the fire of Frendraught. The first was, 
 that the Laird had wilfully set fire to the tower, 
 for the purpose of destroying the young Laird of 
 Rothiemay. The other was, that it originated 
 in the revengeful feelings of tue Laird of Pit- 
 caple. In the first theory there is extremely lit- 
 tle probability. First, it could not have been 
 premeditated; because the circumstance of 
 Frendraught being accompanied home that day 
 by Aboyne and Eothieinay, was entirely acci- 
 dental. In the second place, there was no rea- 
 son for Frendraught being inclined to murder 
 Rothiemay, except that he grudged the pay- 
 ment of the fifty thousand merks to his mother, 
 while there wasevery reason for his being inclined 
 rather to befriend a youth whom he had already 
 injured by occasioning the death of his father. 
 In the third place, all Frendraught's family 
 papers, with much gold and silver, both in 
 money and plate, were consumed in the fire. 
 And, in the fourth place, it is extremely impro- 
 bable that any man of his rank should commit 
 so deliberate and so atrocious an act of villainy. 
 On the other hand, it seems by no means impro- 
 bable that Pitcaple should have caused fire to he 
 set to his enemy's house; a mode of reprisal, 
 which had been practised in the same district 
 of country, as we have already seen, by a gen- 
 tleman of only the preceding age. Piteaple's 
 men, moreover, had been heard to declare an 
 intention of attempting some such enterprise 
 against Frendraught; as was proved on the trial 
 of a gentleman of the name of Meldrum, who 
 was apprehended, condemned, and executed for 
 
 prevailed upon, the young Viscount and Rothie- 
 may were well entertained, and after supper 
 went cheerfully to bed. To continue the narra- 
 tive in the words of Spalding — ' The Viscount 
 was laid in an bed in the Old Tower going off the 
 hall, and standing upon a vault, wherein there 
 was ane round hole, devised of old, just under 
 Aboyne's bed. Robert Gordon, his servitor, and 
 English Will, his page, were both laid in the 
 same chamber. The Laird of Rothiemay, with 
 some servants beside him, was laid in another 
 chamber just above Aboyne's chamber; and in 
 another room, above that chamber, were laid 
 George Chalmers of Noth, and George Gordon, 
 another of the Viscount's servants; with them 
 also was laid Captain Rolloch, then in Frend- 
 raught's own company. All being thus at rest, 
 about midnight that dolorous tower took fire in 
 so sudden and furious a manner, yea, and in ane 
 clap, that the noble Viscount, the Lai:d of Ro- 
 thiemay, English Will, Colonel Wat, another of 
 Aboyne's servants, and other two, being six in 
 number, were cruelly burnt and tormented to 
 the death, without help or relief; the Laird of 
 Frendraught, his lady, and haill household look- 
 ing on, without moving or stirring to deliver 
 them from the fury of this fearful fire, as was re- 
 ported. Robert Gordon, called Sutherland Gor- 
 don., being in the Viscount's chamber, escaped 
 this Sre with the life. George Chalmers and 
 Captain Rolloch, being in thethirdroom, escaped 
 this fire also, and, as was said, Aboyne might 
 have saved himself also if he would have gone 
 out of doors, which he would not do, but sud- 
 denly ran up stairs to Rothiemay's chamber, and 
 wakened him to rise ; and as he was awakening 
 him, the timber passage and lofting of the cham- 
 ber hastily takes fire, so that none of them could 
 win down stairs again ; so they turned to a win- 
 dow looking to the close, where they piteously 
 cried many times, " Help ! help ! for God's 
 cause !" The Laird and Lady, with their ser- 
 vants, all seeing and hearing the woeful crying, 
 made no help or manner of helping; which 
 they perceiving, cried oftentimes mercy at God's 
 hands for their sins ; syne clasped'in each other's 
 arms, and cheerfully suffered their martyrdom. 
 Thus died this noble Viscount of singular expec- 
 tation, Rothiemay, a brave youth, and the rest, 
 by this doleful fire, never enough to be deplored, 
 to the great grief and sorrow of their kin, pa- 
 rents, and hail common people, especially to the 
 
 nobie Marquis, who for his good will got this re- & his alleged accession to their conspiracy 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 The eighteenth of October, 
 
 A dismal tale to hear, 
 How good Lord John and Eothiemay 
 
 "Were both burnt in the fire. 
 
 When steeds were saddled, and weel bridled, 
 
 And ready for to ride, 
 Then out caine she and fause Frendraught, 
 
 Inviting them to bide. 
 
 Said, " Stay this nieht until ye sup, 
 
 The morn until ye dine; 
 'Twill be a token of gude greement 
 
 'Twixt your good lord and mine." 
 
 "We'll turn again," said good Lord John. 
 
 But, " .No," said Eothiemay; 
 " My steed's trapann'd ; my bridle's broken ; 
 
 1 fear this day I'm fey." * 
 
 When mass was sung, and bells were rung, 
 
 And all men bound for bed, 
 Then good Lord John and Eothiemay 
 
 In one chamber were laid. 
 
 They had not long cast off their clothes, 
 
 And were but new asleep, 
 When the weary smoke began to rise, 
 
 Likewise the scorching heat. 
 
 " waken, waken, Eothiemay, 
 
 O waken, brother dear ; 
 And turn ye to our Saviour; 
 
 There is strong treason here 1" 
 
 When they were dressed in their clothes, 
 
 And ready for to boune, 
 The doors and windows were all secured, 
 
 The roof-tree burning down. 
 
 He did him to the wire window, 
 
 As fast as he could gang; 
 Says, " Wae to the hands put in the stan- 
 cheons, 
 
 For out we'll never win!" 
 
 When he stood at the wire window. 
 
 Most doleful to be seen, 
 He did espy her, Lady Frendraught, 
 
 Who stood upon the green. 
 
 Predestinated, or ordained to death. 
 
 271 
 
 $i Cried, " Mercy, mercy! Lady Frendraught! 
 Will ye not sink with sin ? 
 For first your husband kill'd my father, 
 And now you burn his son !" 
 
 O then out spoke her, Lady Frendraught, 
 
 And loudly did she cry, 
 " It were great pitie for good Lord John, 
 
 But none for Eothiemay. 
 But the keys are casten in the deep draw- 
 well — 
 
 Ye cannot get away!"f 
 
 The reek it rose, and the flame it flew, 
 
 The fire augmented high, 
 Until it came to Lord John's chamber window, 
 
 And the bed wherein he lay. 
 
 He lookit east, he lookit west, 
 
 To see if any help was nigh ; 
 At length his little page he saw, 
 
 Who to his lord did loudly cry. 
 
 " Oh, loup ! oh, loup ! my dear master; 
 
 Oh, loup ! and come to me: 
 I'll catch you in my armis two; 
 
 One foot I will not flee. 
 
 " Oh, loup, oh, loup ! my dear master, 
 Though the window's dreigh and high ; 
 
 I'll catch you in my armis two; 
 But Eothiemay may lie !" 
 
 " The &-h shall swim the flood nae mair, 
 Nor the corn grow through the clay, 
 
 Ere the fiercest fire that ever was kindled 
 Twin me and Eothiemay. £ 
 
 " But I cannot loup, I cannot come, 
 
 I cannot win to thee; 
 My heid's fast in the wire-window, 
 
 And my feet's burning frae me i 
 
 f In corroboration of the t- uth of this part of 
 the ballad, opposed as it is to probability, Mr 
 Finlay mentions, as a fact of which he was in- 
 formed by a person residing near Frendraught, 
 that many years ago, when the well of the castle 
 was cleared out, a bunch of keys was found at 
 the bottom. — Chambers. 
 
 $ So altered from the original, which ran 
 ^thus:- 
 
272 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 •' My eyes are Bee thing in my head, 
 
 My flesh roasting also ; 
 My bowels are boiling with my blood; 
 
 I'm sinking in the low ! * 
 
 " Take here the rings frae my white fingers, 
 
 That are sae lon^ and small ; 
 And give them to my lady fair, 
 
 "Where she sits in her hall. 
 
 " I cannot loup, I cannot come, 
 
 I cannot loup to thee; 
 My earthly part is all consumed, 
 
 My spirit but speiks thee ■" 
 
 Wringing her hands, tearing her hair, 
 
 His lady she was seen; 
 "Who thus audress'd his servant Gordon, 
 
 As he stude on the green. 
 
 " O wae be to you, George Gordon 
 
 An ill death may you dee ! 
 Sae safe and sound as ye stand there, 
 
 And my lord bereaved from me 1" 
 
 " I bade him loup, I bade him come, 
 
 1 bade him loup to me ; 
 I'd catch him in my armis two, 
 
 A foot I should not flee. 
 
 " He threw me the rings from his white 
 fingers, 
 
 "Which were sae long and small, 
 To give to you his lady fair, 
 
 "Where you sit in your hall." 
 
 Sophia Hay, Sophia Hay, 
 
 O bonnie Sophia was her name ; 
 
 Her waiting maid put on her clothes; 
 But I wat she tore them off again. 
 
 And aft she cried, " Alas ! alas ! 
 
 A sair heart's ill to win ; 
 I wan a sair heart when 1 married him ; 
 
 And this day its weel return 'd again 1" 
 
 " The fish shall never swim the flood, 
 Nor corn grow through the clay, 
 
 Nor the fieicest fire that ever was kindled, 
 Twin me and Rothieniay." — Chambers. 
 
 * In the original,— 
 
 "Is not that a woeful woe!"— Chambers. 
 
 FRENNET HALL. 
 
 [This is a modern ballad founded on the same 
 subject as the preceding. It first appeared in 
 Herd's Collection.] 
 
 "When Frennet Castle's ivied walls 
 Through yellow leaves were seen, 
 
 "When birds forsook the sapless boughs, 
 And bees the faded green; 
 
 Then Lady Frennet, vengefu' dame, 
 
 Did wander frae the ha', 
 To the wide forest's dewie gloom, 
 
 Among the leaves that fa'. 
 
 Her page, the swiftest of her train, 
 
 Had dumb a lofty tree, 
 Wtaase branches to the angry blast 
 
 "Were soughing mournfullie. 
 
 He turn'd his een towards the path 
 
 That near the castle lay, 
 "Where good Lord John and Rothiemay 
 
 "Were riding down the brae. 
 
 Swift darts the eagle through the sky, 
 
 "When prey beneath is seen : 
 As quickly he forgot his hold, 
 
 And perch'd upon the green. 
 
 " O hie thee, hie thee, lady gay, 
 
 Frae this dark wood awa' ! 
 Some visitors of gallant mein 
 
 Are hasting to the ha'." 
 
 Then round she row'd her silken plaid, 
 
 Her feet she did na spare, 
 Until she left the forest's skirts 
 
 A long bow-shot and mair. 
 
 " O where, O where, my good Lord John, 
 
 tell me where ye ride t 
 "Within my castle-wall this nicht 
 
 1 hope ye mean to bide. 
 
 " Kind nobles, will ye but alicht, 
 
 In yonder bower to stay, 
 Soft ease shall teach you to forget 
 
 The hardness of the way." 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 273 
 
 " FoTbear entreaty, gentle dame, 
 
 How can we here remain ? 
 lull well you know your husband deir 
 
 "Was by my father sLain : 
 
 "The thoughts of which with fell revenge, 
 
 Within your bosom swell; 
 Enraged jou ve sworn that blood for blood 
 
 Should this black passion quell." 
 
 " O fear not, fear not, good Lord John, 
 
 That I will you betray, 
 Or sue requital for a debt 
 
 Which nature cannot pay. 
 
 "Bear witness, a' ye powers on high! 
 
 Ye lichts that gin to shine ! 
 This nicht shall prove the sacred cord, 
 
 That knits your faith and mine." 
 
 The lady slie, with honey'd words, 
 
 Enticed thir youths to stay; 
 But the morning sun ne'er shone upon 
 
 Lord John and Iiothiemay. 
 
 ®|je Stag WxQtfyn. 
 
 [Modern Ballad. — Sir Walter Scott. — 
 "The tradition, upon which the tale is founded, 
 regards a house, upon the barony of Gilmerton, 
 near Laswade, in Mid-Lothian. This building, 
 now called Gilmerton Grange, was originally 
 named Burndale, from the following tragic ad- II 
 venture. The barony of Gilmerton belonged, of 
 yore, to a gentleman, named Heron, who had 
 one beautilul daughter. This young lady was 
 seduced by the abbot of INewbottle, a richly en- 
 dowed abbey, upon the banks of the South Esk, 
 now a seat of the Marquis of Lothian. Heron 
 came to the knowledge of this circumstance, 
 and learned also, that the lovers carried on their 
 guilty intercourse by the connivance of the lady's 
 nurse, who lived at this house of Gilmerton 
 Grange, or Burndale. He formed a resolution 
 of bloody vengeance, undeterred by the supposed 
 sanctity of the clerical character, or by the 
 stronger claims of natural affection. Choosing, 
 therefore, a dark and windy night, when the 
 ol jects of his vengeance were engaged in a stolen 
 interview, he set fire to a stack of dried thorns, 
 and other combustibles, which he had caused to 
 
 be piled against the house, and reduced to a pile 
 of glowing ashes the dwelling, with all its in- 
 mates. 
 
 " The scene, with which the ballad opens, was 
 suggested by the following curious passage, ex- 
 tracted from the life of Alexander Peden, one of 
 the wandering and persecuted teachers of the 
 sect of Cameronians, during the reign of Charle.s 
 II. and his successor, James. This person was 
 supposed by his followers, and, perhaps, really 
 believed himself, to be possessed of supernatural 
 gifts; for the wild scenes which they frequented, 
 and the constant dangers, which were incurred 
 through their proscription, deepened upon their 
 minds the gloom of superstition, so general in 
 that age. 
 
 "' About the same time he (Peden) came to 
 Andrew Normand's house, in the parish of Allo- 
 way, in the shire of Ayr, being to preach at night 
 in his barn. After he came in, he halted a little, 
 leaning upon a chair-back, with his face covered; 
 when he lifted up his head, he said, " There are 
 in this house that I have not one word of salva- 
 tion unto;" he halted a little again, saying, 
 " This is strange, that the devil will not go out, 
 that we may begin our work I" Then there was 
 a woman went out, ill-looked upon almost all 
 her life, and to her dying hour, for a witch, with 
 many presumptions of the same. It escaped me, 
 in the former passages, that John Muirhead 
 (whom I have often mentioned) told me, that 
 when he came from Ireland to Galloway, he was 
 at family-worship, and giving some notes upon 
 the Scripture, when a very ill-looking man came, 
 and sat down within the door, at the back of 
 the Italian (partition of the cottage :) immediate- 
 ly he halted, and said, " There is some unhappy 
 body just now come into this house. I charge 
 him to go out, and not stop my mouth !" The 
 person went out and he insisted (went on) yet he 
 saw him neither come in nor go out.' — The Life 
 and Prophecies of Mr Alexander Peden, late 
 Minister of tne Gospel at New Glenluce, in Gal- 
 loway, Part II. § 26."] 
 
 Txie pope he was saying the high, high mass, 
 
 All on saint Peter's day, 
 With the power to him given, by the saints in 
 
 To wash men's sins away. [heaven, 
 
 The pope he was saying the blessed mass, 
 
 And the people kneel'd around, 
 And from each man's soul his sins did pas3, 
 ■ As he kiss'd the holy ground. 
 

 
 274 SCOTTISH 
 
 BALLADS. 
 
 
 And all, among the crowded throng, 4fe And boldly for his country, still, 
 
 
 Was still, both limb and tongue, 
 
 In battle he had stood, 
 
 
 While through vaulted roof, and aisles aloof, 
 
 Aye, even when, on the hanks of Till, 
 
 
 The holy accents rung. 
 
 Her noblest pour'd their blood. 
 
 
 At the holiest word, he quiver'd for fear, 
 
 Sweet are the paths, passing sweet '. 
 
 
 And faultei'd in the sound — 
 
 By Eske's fair strtams that run, 
 
 
 And, when he would the chalice rear, 
 
 O'er airy steep, through copeswood deep, 
 
 
 He dropp'd it on the ground. 
 
 Impervious to the sun. 
 
 
 " The breath of one of evil deed 
 
 There the rapt poet's step may rove, 
 
 
 Pollutes our sacred day ; 
 
 And yield the muse the day; 
 
 
 He has no portion in our creed, 
 
 There beauty, led by timid love, 
 
 
 No part in what I say. 
 
 May shun the tell-tale ray ; 
 
 
 " A being whom no blessed word 
 
 From that fair dome, where suit is paid, 
 
 
 To ghostly peace can bring ; 
 
 By blast of bugle free,* 
 
 
 A wretch, at whose approach abhorr'd, 
 
 To Auchendinny'8 hazel glade,t 
 
 
 Recoils each holy thing. 
 
 And haunted Woodhouselee. $ 
 
 
 " Up ! up ! unhappy ! haste, arise ! 
 
 Who knows not Melville's beechy grove, § 
 
 
 My adjuration fear! 
 
 And Roslin's rocky glen, || 
 
 
 1 charge thee not to stop my voice, 
 
 
 
 Nor longer tarry here !" 
 
 * The barony of Pennycuick, the property of Sir 
 
 
 Amid them all a pilgrim kneel'd, 
 
 George Clerk, Bart., is held by a singular tenure ; 
 
 
 In gown of sackcloth gray; 
 
 the proprietor being bound to sit upon a large rocky 
 
 
 Far journeying from his native field, 
 
 fragment, called the Buckstane, and wind three 
 
 
 He first saw Rome that day. 
 
 blasts of a horn, when the king shall come to 
 hunt on the Borough Muir, near Edinburgh. 
 
 
 For forty days and nights, so drear, 
 
 Hence, the family have adopted, as their crest, 
 
 
 I ween he had not spoke, 
 
 a demi-forester proper, winding a horn, with the 
 
 
 And, save with bread and water clear, 
 
 motto, " Free for a Blast." The beautiful man- 
 
 
 His fast he ne'er had broke. 
 
 sion-house of Pennycuick is much admired, both 
 on account of the architecture and surrounding 
 
 
 Amid the penitential flock, 
 
 scenery. — Scolt. 
 
 
 Seem'd none nore bent to pray; 
 
 f Auchendinny, situated upon the Eske, below 
 
 
 But, when the holy father spoke, 
 
 Pennycuick, the present residence of the inge- 
 
 
 He rose and went his way. 
 
 nious H. Mackenzie, Esq. author of " The Man 
 of Feeling," Sec— Scott. 
 
 
 Again unto his native land, 
 
 $ For the traditionsconnected with this ruinous 
 
 
 His weary course he drew, 
 
 mansion, see the ballad of " Cadyow Castle." 
 
 
 To Lothian's fair and fertile strand, 
 
 Scott- 
 
 
 And Pentland's mountains blue. 
 
 § Melville Castle, the seat of the right honour- 
 able Lord Melville, to whom it gives the title of 
 
 
 His unblest feet his native seat, 
 
 viscount, is delightfully situated upon the Eske, 
 
 
 Mid Eske's fair woods, regain ; 
 
 near Lasswade. — Scott. 
 
 
 Thro' woods more fair no stream more sweet 
 
 || The ruins of Roslin Castle, the baronial resi- 
 
 
 Rolls to the eastern main. 
 
 dence of the ancient family of St Clair; the 
 Gothic chapel, which is still in beautiful preser- 
 
 
 And lords to meet the pilgrim came, 
 
 vation, with the romantic and woody dell in 
 
 
 And vassals bent the knee; 
 
 which they are situated, belong to the right 
 
 
 For all mid Scotland's chiefs of fame. 
 
 honourable the Earl of Rosslyn, the representa- 
 
 
 Was none more famed than he. ^ 
 
 ■ tive of the former lords of Roslin. — Scolt. 
 
 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 275 
 
 Dalkeith, which all the virtues love, * 
 And classic flawthomdeii ? (■ 
 
 Yet never a path, from day to day, 
 
 The pilgrim's footsteps range, 
 Save but the solitary way 
 
 To Burndale's ruin'd grange. 
 
 A woeful place was that, I ween, 
 
 As sorrow could desire ; 
 For, nodding to the fall was each crumbling 
 wall, 
 
 And the roof was scathed with fire. 
 
 It fell upon a summer's eve, 
 
 While on Carnethy's head, 
 The last faint gleams of the sun's low beams 
 
 Had streak'd the gray with red ; 
 
 And the convent-bell did vespers tell, 
 
 Newbottle's oaks among, 
 And mingled with the solemn knell 
 
 Our Ladye's evening song : 
 
 * The village and castle of Dalkeith belonged, 
 of old, to the famous Earl of Morton, but is now 
 the residence of the noble family of Buccleuch. 
 The park extendi along the Eske, which is there 
 joined by its sister stream, of the same name. 
 
 Scott. 
 
 t Hawthornden, the residence of the poet 
 Drummond. A house, of more modern date, is 
 inclosed, as it were, by the ruins of the ancient 
 castle, and overhangs a tremendous precipice, 
 upon the banks of the Eske, perforated by wind- 
 ing caves, which in former times formed a re- 
 fuge to the oppressed patriots of Scotland. 
 Here Drummond received Ben Jonson, who 
 journied from London, on foot, in order to visit 
 him. The beauty of this striking scene has been 
 much injured, of late years, by the indiscrimi- 
 nate use of the axe. The traveller now looks in 
 vain for the leafy bower, 
 
 " Where Jonson sate in Drummond's social shade." 
 
 Upon the whole, tracing the Eske from its 
 source, till it joins the sea at Musselburgh, no 
 stream in Scotland can boast such a varied suc- 
 cession of the most interesting objects, as well as 
 of the most romantic and beautiful scenery. 
 
 Scott, as 
 
 The heavy knell, the choir's faint swell. 
 
 Came slowly down the wind, 
 And on the pilgrim's ear they fell, 
 
 As his wonted path he did find. 
 
 Deep sunk in thought, I ween he was, 
 
 Nor ever rais'd his eye, 
 Until he came to that dreary place, 
 
 "Which did all in ruins lie. 
 
 He gazed on the walls, so scathed with fire, 
 
 With many a bitter groan — 
 And there was aware of a Gray Friar, 
 
 Resting him on a stone. 
 
 " Now, Christ thee save !" said the gray brother; 
 
 " Son.e pilgrim thou seemest to be." 
 But in sore amaze did Lord Albert gaze, 
 
 Nor answer again made he. 
 
 " come ye from east, or come ye from west, 
 Or bring reliques from over the sea, 
 
 Or come ye from the shrine of St James the 
 divine, 
 Or St John of Beverly ?" 
 
 " 1 come not from the shrine of St James the 
 divine, 
 
 Nor bring reliques from over the sea; 
 I bring but a curse from our father the pope, 
 
 Which for ever will cling to me." 
 
 " Now, woeful pilgrim, say not so ! 
 
 But kneel thee down by me, 
 And shrive thee so clean of thy deadly sin, 
 
 That absolved thou may'st be." 
 
 " And who art thou, thou gray brother, 
 
 That I should shrive to thee, 
 When he, to whom are given the keys of earth 
 and heaven, 
 
 Has no power to pardon me ?*' 
 
 "01 am sent from a distant clime, 
 
 Five thousand miles away, 
 And all to absolve a foul, foul crime, 
 
 Done here twixt night and day." 
 
 The pilgrim kneel'd him on the sand, 
 
 And thus began his saye — 
 When on his neck an ice-cold hand 
 
 Did that gray brother iaye. 
 
276 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 [Modern Version of an old Ballad.] 
 
 " Will you gae to the Hielands, my jewel, wi' me ? 
 Will ye gae with your true love the mountains to see ? 
 It is healthy, dear lassie, to breathe the sweet air; 
 An' to pu' the blaeberries in the forest sae fair !" 
 
 " Wi' thee to the Hielands, love, I daurna gang ; 
 The mountains are dreary, the journey is lang: 
 I love this fair valley, an' sweet corn field, 
 Mair than a' the blaeberries your wild forests yield." 
 
 " O ! the Hielands are bonnie, when the heather's in bloom p 
 An' ilk strath, where you wander, smells sweet wi' perfume; 
 You may gather blaeberries ere summer be gone, 
 And produce them at table when December comes ou." 
 
 Then out spake her father, a haughty auld man ;— 
 " Gae seek ye a mistress amang your ain clan ; 
 We lo'e na the proffer, 'mang wild Hieland fells, 
 O* your walth o' blaeberries, and blue heather bells I 
 
 ". Come kilt up your plaidie, an' off owre the hill ; 
 The sight o' your Hieland face does me much ill ! 
 I'll marry my daughter, and spare pennies too, 
 On anither mair gentle an' likely than you." 
 
 " My plaidie is broad, and has colours anew ; 
 Gudeman, for your kindness, I'll leave it with you ' 
 The cauld days o' winter are harmless to me, 
 When I get blinks o' love frae your sweet daughter's e'e, 
 
 " My flocks are but scanty, my lodgings but bare ; 
 And you that ha'e plenty, the mair ye can spare: 
 Ye'll no send your lassie — your darling awa', 
 A wife to the Hielands, wi' naething ava ?" 
 
 Then off drew the father wi' her to advise •■— 
 " If ye think o' gaun wi' him you're surely not wise! 
 He's a rude Hieland fellow, as puir as a craw ; 
 And the likest a cateran that ever I saw. 
 
 "But if you determine his mistress to be, 
 Ye'se get nought that I or your mither can gi'e ; 
 Frae a' our possessions we bar you for aye, 
 If aff to the Hielands wi' him you'll away." 
 
 " Then keep, honoured father, whate'er you posseaj; 
 
 For all you say of him, I love him not less ; 
 
 I value not riches, though tempting they be, 
 
 If the wild Hieland hills are between him and me I" 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 277 
 
 Awa' she's gane wi' him, in spite o' them a'— 
 Awa' to a country her een never saw ; 
 Owre broad moss an* mountain, on foot did she gang; 
 And aye he said, " Lassie, think no* the road lang." 
 
 The warm sun was shining, 'twas now afternoon ; 
 The lassie grew weary, and fain wad sit down ; 
 But he said, " Sweetest jewel, step onward wi' me, 
 Ere saft fa's the gloaming at hame we maun be. 1 ' 
 
 " I'm fit-sair an' weary, my shoes are all rent ; 
 Sae far ha'e we travell'd, I'm ready to faint; 
 And were it not, dearest, for your company, 
 Amang the lang heather I'd lie down an' dee." 
 
 " O ! were there an out-house, a barn or a byre, 
 
 And we lodged in either, it's a' I desire" — 
 
 " Cheer up, my sweet lassie, we'll no tarry here ; 
 
 Our ain woods an' steading we're now drawing near." 
 
 As onward they wander'd they came to a grove, 
 "Where sheep out o' number a-feeding did rove; 
 And Allan stood musing his hiisels to see, 
 But to her, his dear lassie, nae joy could they gi'e. 
 
 A sprightly young laddie wi' green tartan trews, 
 And twa' bonnie lassies were buchting his ewes; 
 They said, " Honoured master, fu' blessed may you be: 
 Baith you an' your leddy we lang look'd to see." 
 
 "Bucht in the ewes, lassies, and gang your way hame; 
 I've brought ye a mistress — a gentle young dame; 
 Although amang strangers she's bashfu' an' shy, 
 Yet in my best chamber this night sail she lie." 
 
 'Midst warmest o' welcome, she entered the ha', 
 And sic a fine mansion she 6carce ever saw ; 
 Wi' ale an' gude whisky they drank her health roun', 
 And they made her a bra' bed o' heather an' down. 
 
 He led her neist morn to the hay field near by, 
 And bade her look round her, far as she could spy — 
 " These lands and possessions are yours, love, for aye; 
 And ye winna gang round them in a lang simmer day." 
 
 " O Allan ! O, Allan ! why came ye to me ? 
 Sure, I am unworthy your mistress to be !" 
 " Look up, winsome lassie, ye needna think shame; 
 And call me not Allan, for Tandy's my name! 
 
SCOTIISH BALLADS. 
 
 "O, don't you remember at school long ago, 
 Your hard-hearted father was ever my foe ? 
 And most of my comrades dealt harshly w'th me 
 Yet was I respected and loved by thee. 
 
 " Are you then my Sandy, whom I loved dear * 
 "Why heard I not from you for many a year ? 
 O, oft, faithfu' Sandy, wi' thinking on thee! 
 When othsrs were sleeping, 1 ne'er closed an e'e." 
 
 " Alas ! both my parent3 I lost when a child, 
 And far from these valleys was I then exiled ; 
 But years came, and plenty was showered upon me ; 
 So I wish, dearest jewel ! to share it with thee. 
 
 " We loved other dearly, with love let us end. 
 While in innocent pleasure our days will we spend; 
 And again to your father together we'll go : 
 It will ease the old farmer of trouble and woe." 
 
 With man and maid-servants, to wait them upon, 
 Away to the Lowlands again are they gone ; 
 They drove to the window before they wad stand ; 
 While down came the father wi' bonnet in hand. 
 
 " Come keep on your bonnet, and don't let it fa' ; 
 It sets not the peacock to bow to the craw \" 
 " Forbear, gentle Sandy, an' dinna taunt me : 
 My Jean's undeserving your leddy to be." 
 
 There's mirth i' the kitchen, delight on the green; 
 Sae pleased was the mother, tears blinded her e'en ; 
 To make ilk ane happy, nae siller was spared ; 
 An' now the auld farmer's a douce looking laird 
 
 Eocfmiies no mote. 
 
 ^Written on hearing the following traditional account of one of the many predatory incursions 
 of the Cateran into the low country, during the time, as Ross says in his tale of " Helenore or the 
 Fortunate Shepherdess," 
 
 i\g o' a glen, 
 tty men." 
 
 A party of these marauders from Lochaber, consisting of some forty or fifty men, having reached, 
 on an autumn afternoon, the summit of a hill immediately above Glenesk, the most northerly 
 parish in Forfarshire — seated themselves to take rest and refreshment, and to wait the fall of night 
 before commencing the work of plunder : being observed by the shepherds from the neighbouring 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 279 
 
 heights, the alarm was given, and by the evening the most effective men of the glen were in arms, 
 and had met together for the protection of their property. After dark the Cateran descended and 
 gave them battle, and in a short but severe skirmish which ensued five of the inhabitants were 
 killed, and about ten of them taken prisoners, who with tne greater part of the cattle and sheep of 
 the parish were driven to the Highlands. The parishioners never heard more of their flocks and 
 herds; but early in the following year the captives were permitted to return home — a ransom of 
 fifteen merks having been paid for each man. It is said that a ballad, giving the above particulars 
 more in detail, was long popular in the glen ; but nothing more is now remembered of it, except that 
 each verse ended with the words " Lochaber no more."] 
 
 Mottntbattock,* how dark is the cloud on thy brow, 
 How grateful its gloom to the valley below; 
 For the hand of the reaver has smitten so sore, 
 The days of our mourning will never be o'er. — 
 He came in the night — he has taken and slain 
 The wale of our flocks, and the flower of our men— 
 The maidens, the widows, and orphans deplore, 
 And the hollow wind murmurs— Lochaber no more' 
 
 The fold now is silent, the sheiling is still, 
 
 No herd in the valley, no flock on the hill ; 
 
 No gay singing maiden a-milking the cows, 
 
 No blythe whistling shepherd a-bughting the ewes. 
 
 The sward of Gleneffockf is shining in red; 
 
 The down of the thistle with crimson is dyed ; 
 
 The bloom of the heather is steeping in gore — 
 
 And the wild bee is humming — Lochaber no more 1 
 
 * A high mountain on the north of Glenesk. 
 
 t The place of combat. The last incursion of the Cateran took place about 1703. Their leader 
 was John Macgregor, better known in the Low Country by the name of the " Red Bull of Bade- 
 noch." He was a man of uncommon stature, strength, and daring, and with his gang was long 
 the terror of Strathmore. The place of their attack was Fearn, a parish about ten miles south- 
 west of Glenesk, and contiguous to the Grampians. The assault, as usual, was made by night, and 
 so complete was the work of plunder that scarcely a single "hoof or horn" was left in the parish- 
 
 The ploughman raise to yoke his team, 
 
 The maiden raise to milk her kye, 
 But toom was ilka sta'. 
 
 In the morning the parishioners assembled in the church-yard, having been called together by the 
 ringing of the kirk bell, and learning from each other the extent of the depredation, they resolved to 
 attempt recovering their property. Having procured arms, and chosen for their captain John 
 Macintosh, farmer of Sedenberry, a bold active young man, they commenced pursuit, and after a 
 chase often or twelve miles over high and rugged mountains, the thieves, with the sheep and cattle, 
 were overtaken at a place called the "Water of Saughs, where a furious skirmish ensued, in which 
 Macgregor was killed. "When their chief fell the Highlanders immediately fled, and from the 
 want of a leader the band was broken up. The people of Fearn got possession again of all their 
 property, but lost one of their men in the combat. 
 
280 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 Hind Mtfyaxb. 
 
 ["Thb locality of this ballad, Barnisdale, 
 •will bring to the remembrance of the reader, 
 tales of Robin Hood and Little John, who, ac- 
 cording to the testimony of that venerable chro- 
 nicler, Andrew of Wyntown, 
 
 < In Yngilwode and Barnysdale, 
 
 There oysed all this tyme thare travaile.' 
 
 "Whether the ballad is originally the production 
 of an English or a Scotch minstrel admits of 
 question ; certain, however, it is, that it has 
 been received into both countries at a pretty 
 early period. Hearne in his preface to Gul. 
 Neubrigiensis Historia, Oxon. 1719, "Vol. I. page 
 lxx, mentions, that the Knight and Shepherd's 
 daughter was well known in the time of Queen 
 Elizabeth. In Fletcher's Pilgrim, Act 4, Scene 
 2, a stanza of the same ballad is quoted. The 
 English version of this ballad is given in the 
 Reliques of English Poetry, Vol. III. There 
 are various copies of it current in Scotland. 
 The present version, obtained from recitation in 
 ons of the northern counties, is out of sight the 
 mosl circumstantial and elaborated that has yet 
 been printed. It possesses no small portion of 
 humour, and appears to be of greater antiquity 
 than the copy published in the Reliques. In 
 one of the recited copies of this ballad, Earl 
 Richard endeavours to shake the lady's convic- 
 tion of his identity by using the same means as 
 the Gaberlunzie man, who sang : — 
 
 ' 111 bow my leg, and crook my knee, 
 And draw a black clout owre my e'e, 
 A cripple or blind they will ca' me.' 
 
 But the eyes of love were too sharp to be de- 
 ceived by such witty devices, for as the ballad 
 has it, when 
 
 The lady, with a hasty voice, in the face of all 
 the court, immediately cries out, 
 
 • Be he cripple, or be he blind, 
 The same man is he I 
 
 "With my low silver e'e.' 
 
 Earl Richard's unbridegroom-like behaviour 
 on his wedding night, and his agreeable dis- 
 
 covery on the morrow, will remind the ballad 
 reader of the gentle Sir Gawaine who, when re- 
 luctantly turning round to caress his lothly 
 bride, much to his joy and contentment found 
 her transformed into a most lovesome lady." 
 
 Motherwell.] 
 
 Earl Richarh once on a day, 
 
 And all his valiant men so wight ; 
 
 He did him down to Barnisdale, 
 
 Where all the land is fair and light. 
 
 He was aware of a damosel, 
 
 I wot fast on she did her bound, 
 
 With towers of gold upon her head, 
 As fair a woman as could be found. 
 
 He said, " Busk on you, fair ladye, 
 
 The white flowers and the red ; 
 For I would give my bonnie ship, 
 
 To get your maidenhead." 
 
 " I wish your bonnie ship rent and rive, 
 
 And drown you in the sea; 
 For all this would not mend the miss, 
 
 That ye would do to me." 
 " The miss is not so great ladye, 
 
 Soon mended it might be. 
 
 "1 have four-and-twenty mills in Scotland 
 
 Stand on the water Tay ; 
 You'll have them and as much flour 
 
 As they'll grind in a day." 
 
 " I wish your bonnie ship rent and rive, 
 
 And drown you in the sea; 
 For all that would not mend the mls», 
 
 That ye would do for me." 
 " The miss is not so great lady, 
 
 Soon mended it will be. 
 
 " I have four-and-twenty milk white cows 
 
 All calved in a day ; 
 You'll have them and as much hained grass, 
 
 As they all on can gae." 
 
 " I wish your bonnie ship rent and rive, 
 
 And drown ye in the sea; 
 For all that would not mend the miss, 
 
 That ye would do to me." 
 " The miss is not so great ladye, 
 
 Soon mended it might be. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 281 
 
 
 "Ihavefour-and-twenty milk white eteeds, & For he had never been as kind hearted, 
 
 
 
 AH foaled in one year ; 
 
 As to bid the lady ride ; 
 
 
 
 You'll have them and as much red gold, 
 
 And she had never been so low hearted, 
 
 
 
 As all their backs can bear." 
 
 As for to bid him bide. 
 
 
 
 She turned her right and round about, 
 
 But deep into the wan water 
 
 
 
 And she swore by the mold, 
 
 There stands a great big stone ; 
 
 
 
 " I would not be your love," said she, 
 
 He turned his wight horse head about, 
 
 
 
 " For that church full of gold." 
 
 Said, " Lady fair, will ye loup on . J " 
 
 
 
 He turned him right and round about, 
 
 She's taken the wand was in her hand, 
 
 
 
 And he swore by the mass, 
 
 And struck it on the foam, 
 
 
 
 Says, " Lady, ye my love shall be, 
 
 And before he got the middle stream, 
 
 
 
 And gold ye shall have less." 
 
 The lady was on dry land. 
 " By the help of God and our Lady, 
 
 
 
 She turned her right and round about, 
 
 My help lyes not in your hand." 
 
 
 
 And she swore by the moon, 
 
 
 
 
 " I would not be your love," says she, 
 
 " I learned it from my mother dear, 
 
 
 
 " For all the gold in Eome." 
 
 Few is there that has learned better; 
 When I came to a deep water, 
 
 
 
 He turned him right and round about, 
 
 I can swim through like ony otter. 
 
 
 
 And he swore by the moon, 
 
 
 
 
 Says, " Lady, ye my love shall be, 
 
 " I learned it from my mother dear, 
 
 
 
 And gold ye shall have none." 
 
 I find I learned it f . r my weel ; 
 "When I came to a deep water, 
 
 
 
 He caught her by the milk-white hand, 
 
 I can swim through like ony eel." 
 
 
 
 And by the grass-green sleeve ; 
 
 
 
 
 And there has taken his will of her, 
 
 " Turn back, turn back, you lady fair, 
 
 
 
 "Wholly without her leave. 
 
 You know not what I see; 
 There is a lady in that castle, 
 
 
 
 The lady frowned and sadly blushed, 
 
 That will burn you and me." 
 
 
 
 And oh! but she thought shame; 
 
 " Betide me weal, betide me wae, 
 
 
 
 Says, " If you are a knight at all, 
 
 That lady will I see." 
 
 
 
 You surely will tell me your name." 
 
 She took a ring from her finger, 
 
 
 
 " In some places they call me Jack, 
 
 And gave't the porter for his fee; 
 
 
 
 In other some they call me John ; 
 
 Says, " Tak' you that, my good porter, 
 
 
 
 But when into the queen's court, 
 
 And bid the queen speak to me." 
 
 
 
 Oh then Lithcock it is my name." 
 
 And when she came before the queen, 
 
 
 
 " Lithcock ! Lithcock !" the lady said, 
 
 There she fell low down on her knee ; 
 
 
 
 And oft she spelt it over again ; 
 
 Says, " There is a knight into your court, 
 
 
 
 " Lithcock! it's Latin," the lady said, 
 
 This iay has robbed me." 
 
 
 
 " Richard's the English of that name." 
 
 " Oh, has he robbed you of your gold, 
 
 
 
 The knight he rode, the lady ran, 
 
 Or has he robbed you of your fee ?" 
 
 
 
 A live long summer's day; 
 
 " He has not robbed me of my gold, 
 
 
 
 Till they came to the wan water, 
 
 He has not robbed me of my fee ; 
 
 
 
 That all men do call Tay. 
 
 He has robbed me of my maidenhead, 
 The fairest flower of my bedie." 
 
 
 
 He set his horse head to the water, 
 
 
 
 
 Just through it for to ride; 
 
 " There is no knight in all my court, 
 
 
 
 And the lady was as ready as him, 
 
 That thus has robbed thee ; 
 
 
 
 The waters for to wade. i 
 
 ft But you'll have the truth of his right hand, 
 Or else for your sake he'll dee; 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 232 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 Though it were Earl Richard my own brother, ■$& " And she would meal you with millering, 
 
 
 
 Aiid oh ! forbid that it be ;" 
 
 That she gathers at the mill ; 
 
 
 
 Then, sighing, said She lady fair, 
 
 And mak' you thick as any daigh, 
 
 
 
 "I wot the samen man is he," 
 
 And when the pan was brimful 
 
 
 
 The queen called on her merr/ men, 
 
 " Would mess you up in scuttle dishes, 
 
 
 
 Even fifty men and three ; 
 
 Syne bid us sup till we were fou, 
 
 
 
 Earl Richard used to be the first man, 
 
 Lay down her head upon a poke, 
 
 
 
 But now the hindmost was he. 
 
 Then sleep and snore Uke any sow." 
 
 
 
 He's taken out one hundred pounds, 
 
 " Away ! away ! you bad woman, 
 
 
 
 And told it in his glove; 
 
 For all your vile words grieveth me, 
 
 
 
 Says, " Tak' you that, my lady fair, 
 
 When ye heed so little for yourself, 
 
 
 
 And seek another love." 
 
 I'm sure ye'll heed far less for me 
 
 
 
 " Oh no, oh no," the lady cried, 
 
 " I wish I had drunk your water, sister, 
 
 
 
 " That's what shall never be ; 
 
 When that I did drink of your wine; 
 
 
 
 111 have the truth of your right hand, 
 
 Since for a carle's fair daughter, 
 
 
 
 The queen it gave to me." 
 
 It aye gars me dree all this pine." 
 
 
 
 " I wish I had drunk of your water, sister, 
 
 " May be 1 am a carle's daughter, 
 
 
 
 When I did drink your wine; 
 
 And may be never nane ; 
 
 
 
 That for a carle's fair daughter, 
 
 When ye met me in the good green wood, 
 
 
 
 It does gar me dree all this pine." 
 
 Why did you not let me alane f 
 
 
 
 " May be I am a carle's daughter, 
 
 " Gude e'en, gude e'en, ye heather berries, 
 
 
 
 And may be never nane ; 
 
 As ye're growing on yon hill ; 
 
 
 
 When ye met me in the green wood, 
 
 If the auld carle and his bags were here, 
 
 
 
 Why did you not let me alane ?" 
 
 1 wot he would get meat his fill. 
 
 
 
 " Will you wear the short clothes, 
 
 " Late, late, at night I knit our pokes, 
 
 
 
 Or will you wear the side, 
 
 With even four-and-twenty knots; 
 
 
 
 Or will you walk to your wedding, 
 
 And in the morn at breakfast time, 
 
 
 
 Or will you till it ride ?" 
 
 I'll carry tbe keys of an earl's locks. 
 
 
 
 " I will not wear the short clothes, 
 
 " Late, late, at night I knit our pokes, 
 
 
 
 But I will wear the side ; 
 
 With even four-and-twenty strings; 
 
 
 
 I will not walk to my wedding, 
 
 And if you look to my white fingers, 
 
 
 
 But I to it will ride." 
 
 They have as many gay gold rings." 
 
 
 
 When he was s t upon the horse, 
 
 '* Away ! away ! ye ill woman, 
 
 
 
 The lady him behind ; 
 
 And sore your vile words grieveth me; 
 
 
 
 Then cauld and eerie were the words, 
 
 When you heed so little for yourself, 
 
 
 
 The twa had them between. 
 
 I'm sure ye'll heed far less for me. 
 
 
 
 She said, " Good een, ye nettles tall, 
 
 "But if you are a carle's daughter, 
 
 
 
 Just there where je grow at the dike, 
 
 As I take you to be ; 
 
 
 
 If the auld carlin my mother was here, 
 
 How did you get the gay clothing, 
 
 
 
 Sae weel's she would your pates pike. 
 
 In greenwood ye had ou thee ?" 
 
 
 
 " How she would stap you in her poke, 
 
 " My mother she's a poor woman, 
 
 
 
 I wot at that she wadna fail; 
 
 She nursed earl's children three ; 
 
 
 
 And boil ye in her auld brass pan, 
 
 And I get them from a foster sister, 
 
 
 
 And of ye inak' right gude kail. ^ 
 
 ^ For to beguile such sparks as thoe." 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 283 
 
 
 "But if you be a carle's daughter, & His fostir faider fure of the toun, 
 
 
 
 As I believe you be : 
 
 To vissy Allane he maid him boun ; 
 
 
 
 How did you learn the good Latin, 
 
 He saw him lyane, allace ! in swoun 
 
 
 
 In green wood ye spoke to me?" 
 
 For fait of help, and lyk to de ; — 
 Quhy sowld not Allane honorit be ? 
 
 
 
 *' My mother she's a mean woman, 
 
 
 
 
 She nursed earl's children three ; 
 
 Thay saw his heid begin to ryfe ; 
 
 
 
 I learned it from their chapelain, 
 
 Syne for ane nureiss thay send belyfe, 
 
 
 
 To beguile such sparks as ye." 
 
 Quha brocht with hir fyfty-and-fyve 
 Of men of war full prevely ; — 
 
 
 
 When mass was sung, and bells were rung, 
 
 Quhy sowld not Allane honorit be ? 
 
 
 
 And all men boune for bed ; 
 
 
 
 
 Then Earl Richard and this Ladye, 
 
 Thay ruschit furt lyk hellis rukis, 
 
 
 
 In ane bed they were laid. 
 
 And every ane of yame had hukis ; 
 They caut him shortly in your clukis, 
 
 
 
 He turned his face to the stock, 
 
 Syne band him in ane creddill of tre ; — 
 
 
 
 And she hers to the stane ; 
 
 Quhy sowld not Allan honorit be ? 
 
 
 
 And cauld and dreary was the luve, 
 
 
 
 
 That was thir twa between. 
 
 Thay brot him invart in the land, 
 Syne every freynd maid him his band, 
 
 
 
 Great was the mirth in the kitchen, 
 
 Quhill they might owdir gang or stand, 
 
 
 
 Likewise intill the ha' ; 
 
 Never ane fute fra him to fle ; — 
 
 
 
 But in his bed lay Earl Eichard, 
 
 Quhy sowld not Allane honorit be ? 
 
 
 
 Wiping the tears awa'. 
 
 The grittest cowart in this land, 
 
 
 
 He wept till he fell fast asleep, 
 
 Ffra he with Allane enter in band, 
 
 
 
 Then slept till licht was come ; 
 
 Thot he may nowdir gang nor stand, 
 
 
 
 Then he did hear the gentlemen 
 
 Zet fourty sail not gar him fle ; — 
 
 
 
 That talked in the room. 
 
 Quhy sowld not Allane honorit be f 
 
 
 
 Said, " Saw ye ever a fitter match, 
 
 Sir Allanis hewmond is ane cop, 
 
 
 
 Betwixt the ane and ither ; 
 
 With an sege feddir in his top ; 
 
 
 
 The king o' Scotland's fair dochter, 
 
 Fra hand to hand so dois he hop, 
 
 
 
 And the queen of England's brither." 
 
 Quhill sum may nowdir speik nor se; — 
 Quhy sowld not Allane honorit be ? 
 
 
 
 " And is she the king of Scotland's fair dochter ? 
 
 
 
 
 This day, oh, weel is me ! 
 For seven times has my steed been saddled, 
 
 To come to court with thee ; 
 And with this witty lady fair, 
 
 How happy must I be !" 
 
 In zule, quhen ilk man singis his carrell, 
 Gude Allane lyis in to ane barrell; 
 Quhen he is thair, he dowtis ne parrell 
 To cum on him be land or se ; — 
 Quhy sowld not Allane honorit be ? 
 
 
 
 
 Zet wes yair nevir sa gay ane gallane, 
 
 
 
 OTaM=JMamt 
 
 Fra he meit with our maister Sir Allane, 
 
 
 
 Bot gif he hald him by ye hallane, 
 
 
 
 [From the Bannatyne MS., in the Advocates' 
 
 Bak wart on the flure iallis he ; — 
 
 
 
 Library, Edinburgh.] 
 
 Quhy sowld not Allane honorit be ? 
 
 
 
 Quhen he wes zung, and cled in grene, 
 
 My maistir Allane grew so stark, 
 
 
 
 Haifand his air about his ene, 
 
 Quhill he maid mony cunning clerk ; 
 
 
 
 Baith men and wemen did him mene, 
 
 Upoun yair faisis he settis his mark, 
 
 
 
 Quhen he grew on zon hillis he ; — 
 
 A blud reid nois besyd ye e ; — 
 
 
 
 Quhy sowld not Allane honorit be ? i 
 
 5 Quhy sowld not Allane honorit be ? 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 
 284 SCOTTISH 
 
 BALLADS. 
 
 
 My maistir Allane I may sair curs ; 4fe They cowpit him then into the hopper, 
 
 
 
 He levis no mony in my purs; 
 
 And brook his banes, gnipper for gnopper; 
 
 
 
 At his command I mon deburs 
 
 Syne put the burn untill the gleed, 
 
 
 
 Moir nor ye twa pt. of my fe ; — 
 
 And leepit the een out o' his head. 
 
 
 
 Quhy sowld not Allane honorit be ? 
 
 Till in cam' Barmy-breeks, his brither, 
 
 
 
 And last, of Allane to conclude ; 
 
 Like ae gude neiber to crack wi' anither ; 
 
 
 
 He is bening, courtas, and gude, 
 
 Says, " Allan o' Maut, are ye gaun to dee ? 
 
 
 
 And servis ws of our daly fude, 
 
 Rise up man, first, and dance wi' me." 
 
 
 
 And that with liberalitie ; — 
 
 
 
 
 Quhy sowld not Allane honorit be ? 
 
 They danced about frae hand to hand, 
 Till they danced o'er the working stand ; 
 
 
 
 
 
 Syne in cam' Jennie wi' her dish, 
 She gae mony a rummle and rush. 
 
 
 
 ALLAN 0' MATTT 
 
 And Uskie-bae ne'er bure the bell 
 
 
 
 [From a copy furnished to Mr Jamieson's 
 
 Sae bald as Allan bure himsel' ; 
 
 
 
 Collection by the Reverend William Gray of 
 
 Nor ever got his pride a fa', 
 
 
 
 Lincoln.] 
 
 Till carlies piss'd him at the wa'. 
 
 
 
 Gudk Allan o' Maut was ance cad Bear, 
 
 
 
 
 
 And he was cadged frae wa' to wear, 
 
 
 
 
 And dragglet wi' muck, and syne wi' rain, 
 
 JOHN BARLEYCORN. 
 
 
 
 Till he diet, and cam' to life again. 
 
 [Given by Mr Jamieson from his own recol- 
 
 
 
 He first grew green, syne he grew white, 
 
 lection, as he learned it in Morayshire when he 
 
 
 
 Syne a' men thocht that he was ripe ; 
 
 was a boy, and before the Poems of Burns were 
 
 
 
 And wi' crookit gullies and hafts o' tree 
 
 published. The two concluding stanzas are by 
 
 
 
 They've hew'd him down right douchtilie. 
 
 Mr Jamieson.] 
 
 
 
 Syne they've set Allan up into stooks, 
 
 There came three merry men from the east, 
 
 
 
 And casten on him mony pleasant looks; 
 
 And three merry men they be ; 
 
 
 
 They've turss'd him up syne on a sled, 
 
 And they have sworn a solemn oath 
 
 
 
 Till in the grain-yard they made his bed. 
 
 John Barleycorn shall dee. 
 
 
 
 Then men clamb up upon a ladder, 
 
 They've ta'en a plough and plough'd him down, 
 
 
 
 And happit his head frae wind and weather; 
 
 Put clods upon his head ; 
 
 
 
 They've ta'en him neist up in their arms, 
 
 And they have sworn a solemn oath 
 
 
 
 And made his shak-down in the barns. 
 
 John Barleycorn was dead. 
 
 
 
 The hollin souples, that were sae snell, 
 
 But the spring-time it came on at last, 
 
 
 
 His back they loundert, mell for mell; 
 
 And showers began to fall ; 
 
 
 
 Mell for mell, and baff for baff, 
 
 John Barleycorn's sprung up again, 
 
 
 
 Till his hide flew about his lugs like caff. 
 Then in cam" Jennie wi' her riddle, 
 
 Which did surprise them all. 
 
 
 
 
 And she gae mony a fike and fiddle ; 
 
 * Bearing the bell seems here to have a double 
 
 
 
 Set up the doors, loot in the win', 
 
 meaning. The bell is the collection of bubbles 
 
 
 
 To see what faucity fell frae him. 
 
 that float on the surface of whisky, as froth does 
 on ale, &c, when poured out; and to bear the bell 
 
 
 
 They stow'd him up intill a seek, 
 
 well, is accounted a good sign in whisky. This 
 
 
 
 And o'er the horse back brook his neck ; 
 
 sign, however, is very deceitful, as it may be pro- 
 
 
 
 Syne bristled they him upon the kill, 
 
 duced without the assistance of Allan o' Maut. 
 
 
 
 Till he was bane dry for the mill. ^ 
 
 Jamieson, 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 285 
 
 
 
 Then the summer heat on him did beat, { 
 
 \ 
 
 
 
 And he grew pale and wan ; 
 
 
 
 
 John Barleycorn has got a beard 
 Like any other man. 
 
 Wicsfoti ftoam. 
 
 
 
 They've ta'en a hook, that was full sharp, 
 
 [From the Border Minstrelsy.] 
 
 
 
 And cut him above the knee; 
 
 
 
 
 And they've bound him intill a corn cart, 
 
 O wnA wad wish the wind to blaw, 
 
 
 
 Like a thief for the gallow-tree. 
 
 Or the green leaves fa' therewith ? 
 Or wha wad wish a lealer love 
 
 
 
 They've ta'en twa sticks, that were full stout, 
 
 Than Brown Adam the Smith? 
 
 
 
 And si^re they beat his bones; 
 
 
 
 
 The miller used him worse than that, 
 
 But they ha'e banish'd him, Brown Adam, 
 
 
 
 And ground him between two stones. 
 
 Frae father and frae mother; 
 And they ha'e banish'd him, Brown Adam, 
 
 
 
 The browster-wife we'll not forget; 
 
 Frae sister and frae bi other. 
 
 
 
 She well her tale can tell; 
 
 
 
 
 She's ta'en the sap out of his bodie, 
 And made of it good ale. 
 
 And they ha'e banish'd him, Brown Adam, 
 The 8ower o' a' his kin ; 
 
 
 
 And they have fill'd it in a cap, 
 
 And he's bigged a bour in gude green- 
 
 
 
 And drank it round and round ; 
 And ay the mair they drank o' it, 
 
 Atween his ladye and him. 
 
 
 
 The mair did joy abound. 
 
 It fell upon a summer's day, 
 
 
 
 John Barleycorn is the wightest man 
 
 Brown Adam he thought lang ; 
 
 
 
 That ever throve in land ; 
 
 And, for to hunt some venison, 
 
 
 
 For he could put a Wallace down 
 
 To greenwood he wald gang. 
 
 
 
 Wi' the turning of his hand. 
 
 He has ta'en his bow his arm o'er. 
 
 
 
 He'll gar the huntsman shoot his dog ; 
 
 His bolt3 and arrows lang ; 
 
 
 
 His gold a miser scorn ; 
 
 And he is to the gude greenwood 
 
 
 
 He'll gar a maiden dance stark-naked 
 
 As fast as he couid gang. 
 
 
 
 Wi' the tuoming of a horn. 
 
 he's shot up, and he's shot doun, 
 
 
 
 He'll change a man into a boy, 
 
 The bird upon the brier ; 
 
 
 
 A buy into an ass; 
 
 And he sent it name to his ladye, 
 
 
 
 He'll change your g Id into silver, 
 
 Bade her be of gude cheir. 
 
 
 
 And your silver into brass. 
 
 
 
 
 And here we have his very heart-blcod, 
 
 O he's shot up, and he's shot doun, 
 The bird upon the thorn; 
 
 
 
 Sae bizz ng bright and brown; 
 And ay we'll b'rl the titherstoup, 
 
 And sent it hame to his ladye, 
 Said he'd be hame the morn. 
 
 
 
 And ay we'll bend it roun'. 
 
 
 
 
 And ye will drink a health to me, 
 
 "When he cam' to his ladye's bour door, 
 
 
 
 And I'll drink ane to you; 
 
 He stude a little forbye, 
 
 
 
 For he never misses health or wealth 
 
 And there he heard a fou fause knight 
 
 
 
 That wi' Johny'g bloud is fu'. 
 
 Tempting his gay ladye. 
 
 For he's ta'en out a gay goud ring, 
 Had cost him mony a poun' ; 
 
 
 
 i 
 
 " grant me love for love, ladye, 
 5 And this shall be thy own." 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 236 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 " I lo'e Brown Adam weel," she said, 4 
 
 . On the following day a party of soldiers were 
 
 
 
 " I trew sae does he me ; | 
 
 sent to apprehend and bring him to justice, but 
 
 
 
 I wadna gi'e Brown Adam's love 
 
 on hearing of their approach, he removed from 
 
 
 
 For nae fause knight I see." 
 
 Ecbzell with a considerable number of adherents, 
 to his castle of Glenmark, a building of some 
 
 
 
 Out has he ta'en a purse o' gowd, 
 
 strength, and situated nearly in the centre of 
 
 
 
 Was a' fou to the string ; 
 
 the Grampian mountains, where he proposed 
 
 
 
 " grant me love for love, ladye, 
 
 defending himself. This scheme, however, he 
 
 
 
 And a' this shall be thine." 
 
 abandoned when the military made their appear- 
 ance, and dismissing his followers, he assumed 
 
 
 
 " I lo'e Brown Adam weel," she says, 
 
 the dress of a peasant, and fled to the northern 
 
 
 
 " I wot sae does he me ; 
 
 isles of Scotland, where it is said he died in ob- 
 
 
 
 I wadna be your light leman, 
 
 scurity and want. What became of his sister 
 
 
 
 For mair than ye could gi'e." 
 
 tradition makes no mention. The lands of Ecb- 
 zell were forfeited in 1716 by the adherence of the 
 
 
 
 Then out he drew his lang bright brand, 
 
 Lindsays to the house of Stewart, and are now 
 
 
 
 And flash'd it in her een ; 
 
 the property of the Right Honorable Lord Pan- 
 
 
 
 " Now grant me love for love, ladye, 
 
 mure.] 
 
 
 
 Or through ye this shall gang !" 
 
 
 
 
 Then, sighing, says that ladye fair, 
 
 Lord Spynie,* ye may pu' the rose, 
 
 
 
 " Brown Adam tarries lang '." 
 
 An' spare the lily flower, 
 When ye gae through the garden green 
 
 
 
 Then in and starts him, Brown Adam, 
 
 To woo in ladye bower ; 
 
 
 
 Says, " I'm just at your hand." 
 
 
 
 
 He's gar'd him leave his bonnie bow, 
 
 And ye may pu' the lightsome thyme, 
 
 
 
 And gar'd him leave his brand ; 
 
 An' leave the lonesome rue; 
 
 
 
 He's gar'd him leave a dearer pledge, — 
 
 For lang and sair will the ladye mourn 
 
 
 
 Four fingers o' his right hand! 
 
 That ye gae there to woo ! 
 For ye will look an' talk of luve, 
 
 
 
 
 An' kindly, kindly smile, 
 An' vow by grace, an' a' that's gude, 
 
 
 
 EorlDi Jbpgm*. 
 
 An' lay the luring wile. 
 'Tis sair to rob the bonnie bird 
 
 
 
 [Early in the seventeenth century, when the 
 
 That makes you melodie; 
 
 
 
 Lindsays of Ecbzell, a branch of the great Angus 
 
 'Tis cruel to win a woman's luve, 
 
 
 
 clan of that name, resided at Ecbzell Castle, 
 
 An' no ha'e luve to gi'e ! 
 
 
 
 the family then consisted, says the tradition on 
 
 
 
 
 which the following verses are founded, of two 
 
 I wadna ha'e your wilfu' hand 
 
 
 
 brothers and their sister lady Jane, who it is said 
 
 Though a' the earth were thine ; 
 
 
 
 was very beautiful and highly accomplished. 
 
 Te've broken many a maiden's peace, 
 
 
 
 Among her many suitors was young Lord Spynie, 
 
 Ye've mair than broken mine. 
 
 
 
 a distant relation of her own ; but having gained 
 
 
 
 
 her affections, he seduced and deserted her. 
 
 I wadna ha'e your faithless heart, 
 
 
 
 Ker elder brother, determined on revenging her 
 
 'Tis no your ain to gi'e ; 
 
 
 
 ■wrongs, sought every opportunity of meeting the 
 
 But gin ye ever think o' heaven, 
 
 
 
 lUlse lord. Sometime after he met him on the 
 
 Oh ! ye maun think o' me ! 
 
 
 
 High Street of Edinburgh, and having told him 
 that all the blood in his body could not wash 
 cut the stain in his sister's character, he plunged 
 ii dagger into his heart, and though the deed 
 
 
 
 
 * This title has been dormant sinoe the death 
 of George, third lord, in 1672. 
 
 
 
 was done in open day and in the presence of 
 
 
 
 
 several persons, he was allowed to escape home. I 
 
 & 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 287 
 
 
 
 ssfcfoarefo, 3Efifoarto. 
 
 ^"And what will ye leave to your bairns and 
 your wife, 
 
 Edward, Edward ? 
 
 
 
 [This ballad was published by Dr Percy, from 
 
 And what will ye leave to your bairns and 
 
 
 
 a manuscript which was transmitted to him, 
 
 your wife, 
 
 
 
 trom Scotland, by Sir David Dalrymple (Lord 
 
 When ye gang ower the sea, ?" 
 
 
 
 Hailes). From the source whence it proceeded, 
 
 " The warld's room : let them beg through life, 
 
 
 
 it was in all probability written by Lady Waku- 
 
 Mother, mother ; 
 
 
 
 LAW.l 
 
 The warld's room : let them beg through life ; 
 For them never mair will 1 see, o." 
 
 
 
 ** Why does your brand sae drap wi' blude, 
 
 
 
 
 Edward, Edward? 
 
 " And what will you leave to your ain mother 
 
 
 
 "Why does your brand sae drap wi' blude, 
 
 Edward, Edward? [dear, 
 
 
 
 And why sae sad gang ye, ?" 
 
 And what will you leave to your ain mother dear ? 
 
 
 
 " 0, 1 ha'e killed my hawk sae gude, 
 
 My dear son, now tell me, 0." 
 
 
 
 Mother, mother ; 
 
 " The curse of hell frae me ye sail beir, 
 
 
 
 0, I ha'e killed my hawk sae gude ; 
 
 Mother, mother ; 
 
 
 
 And 1 ha'e nae mair but he, 0." 
 
 The curse of hell frae me ye sail beir ; 
 Sic counsels ye gave to me, !" 
 
 
 
 " Tour hawk's blude was never sae red, 
 
 
 
 
 Edward, Edward ; 
 
 
 
 
 Your hawk's blu ie was never sae red, 
 
 
 
 
 My dear son, I tell thee, 0." 
 
 
 
 
 " 0, 1 ha'e killed my red-roan steed, 
 
 SON DAYIE, SON DAYIE. 
 
 
 
 Mother, mother ; 
 
 
 
 
 0, 1 ha'e killed my red-roan steed, 
 That was sae fair and free, 0.'- 
 
 [From Motherwell's Collection, where it is 
 said to be given from the recitation of an old 
 
 
 
 " Your steed was auld, and ye ha'e gat mair, 
 
 | woman.] 
 
 
 
 Edward, Edward ; 
 
 
 
 
 Your steed was auld, and ye ha'e gat mair; 
 
 " What bluid's that on thy coat lap ? 
 
 
 
 Pome other dule ye drie, 0." 
 
 Son Davie ! son Davie ! 
 
 
 
 "01 ha'e killed my father dear, 
 
 What bluid's that on thy coat lap ? 
 
 
 
 Mother, mother; 
 
 And the truth come tell to me, 0." 
 
 
 
 0, I ha'e killed my father dear, 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 Alas! and woe is me, !" 
 
 " It is the bluid cf my great hawk, 
 Mother lady ! mother lady ! 
 
 
 
 " And whatten penance will ye drie for that, 
 
 It is the bluid of my great hawk, 
 
 
 
 Edward, Edward ? 
 
 And the truth 1 ha'e tald to tnee, 0." 
 
 
 
 And whatten penance will ye drie for that ? 
 
 
 
 
 My dear s >n, now tell me, 0." 
 
 " Hawk's bluid was ne'er sae red, 
 
 
 
 " I'll set my feet in yonder boat, 
 
 Son Davie ! son Davie ! 
 
 
 
 Mother, mother; 
 
 Hawk's bluid was ne'er sae red, 
 
 
 
 I'll set my feet in yonder boat, 
 
 And the truth come tell to me, 0." 
 
 
 
 And I'll fare over the sea, 0." 
 
 " It is the bluid o' my grey hound, 
 
 
 
 " And what will ye do wi' your touirs and your 
 
 Mother lady ! mother lady ! 
 
 
 
 Edward, Edward ? [ha', 
 
 It is the bluid o' my grey hound, 
 
 
 
 And what will ye do wi' your touirs and your 
 
 And it wudna rin for me, 0." 
 
 
 
 That were sae fair to see, ?" [ha', 
 
 
 
 
 " I'll let them stand till they doun fa', 
 
 " Hound's bluid was ne'er sae red, 
 
 
 
 Mother, mother ; 
 
 Son Davie ! son Davie ! 
 
 
 
 I'll let them stand till they doun fa' ; 
 
 Hound's bluid was ne'er sae red, 
 
 
 
 For here never mair maun I be, 0." 6 
 
 } And the truth come tell to me, O." 
 
 
 
 

 
 nog SCOTTISH 
 
 BALLADS. 
 
 '" It is the bluid o' my brother John, $st ° THE broom, and the bonnie bonnie broom, 
 
 
 Mother lady ! mother lady ! 1 
 
 And the broom of the Cowdenknows ! 
 
 
 It is the bluid o' my brother John, 
 
 And aye sae sweet as the lassie sang, 
 
 
 And the truth I ha'e tald to thee, 0." 
 
 1' the bought, milking the ewes. 
 
 
 1 
 " What about did the plea begin ? 
 
 The hills were high on ilka side, 
 
 
 Son Davie ! son Davie !" \ 
 
 An' the bought i' the lirk o' the hill, 
 
 
 " It began about the cutting o' a willow 
 
 And aye, as she sang, her voice it rang, 
 
 
 wand, 
 
 Out o'er the head o' yon hill. 
 
 
 That would never ha'e been a tree, 0." 
 
 There was a troop o' gentlemen 
 
 
 " "What death dost thou desire to die ? 
 
 Came riding merrilie by, 
 
 
 Sun Davie! son Davie! 
 
 And one of them has rode out of the way, 
 
 
 "What death dust thuu desire to die ? 
 
 To the bought to the bonnie may. 
 
 
 And the truth come tell to me, 0." 
 
 " "Weel may ye save an' see, bonnie lass, 
 
 
 " I'll set my foot in a bottomless ship, 
 
 An' weel may ye save an' see." 
 
 
 Mother lady ! mother lady ! 
 
 "An' sae wi' you, ye weel-bred knight. 
 
 
 I'll set my foot in a bottomless ship, 
 
 And what's your will wi' me ?" 
 
 
 And ye'U never see mair o' me, 0." 
 
 " The night is misty and mirk, fair may, 
 
 
 " "What will't thou leave to thy poor wife ? 
 
 And I have ridden astray, 
 
 
 Son Davie ! son Davie !" 
 
 And will you be so kind, fair may, 
 
 
 " Grief and sorrow all her life, 
 
 As come out and point my way ?" 
 
 
 And she'll never get mair frae me, 0." 
 
 " Kide out, ride out, ye ramp rider ! 
 
 
 " "What will't thou leave to thy auld son ? 
 
 Your steed's baith stout and Strang ; 
 
 
 Son Davie ! son Davie 1" 
 
 For out of the bought I darna come, 
 
 
 •'The weary warld to wander up and down, 
 
 For fear 'at ye do me wrang." 
 
 
 And he'll never get mair o' me, 0." 
 
 " winna ye pity me, bonnie lass, 
 
 
 " "What will't thou leave to thy mother dear ? 
 
 winna ye pity me t 
 
 
 Son Davie ! son Davie !" 
 
 An' winna ye pity my poor steed, 
 
 
 " A fire o' coals to burn her wi' hearty 
 
 Stands trembling at yon treei"' 
 
 
 cheer, 
 
 
 
 And she'll never get mair o' me, 0." 
 
 "I wadna pity your poor steed, 
 
 Though it were tied to a thorn ; 
 For if ye wad gain my love the night, 
 
 
 — 
 
 Ye wad slight me ere the morn. 
 " For I ken you by your weel-busked hat, 
 
 
 ■aEfje -Siesta of ®oSrt)tnftno&jS. 
 
 And your merrie twinkling e'e, 
 That ye're the laird o' the Oakland hills, 
 An' ye may weel seem for to be." 
 
 
 [" The beautiful air of Cowdenknows is well 
 
 
 
 known and popular. In Ettrick Forest the fol- 
 
 " But 1 am not the laird o' the Oakland hilLj, 
 
 
 lowing words are uniformly adapted to the 
 
 Ye're far mista'en o' me; 
 
 
 tune, and seem to be the original ballad. An 
 
 But I'm ane o' the men about his house, 
 
 
 edition of this pastural tale, differing considera- 
 
 An' right aft in his companie."' 
 
 
 bly from the pre-ent copy, was published by Mr 
 
 
 
 Herd, in 1772. Cowdenknows is situated upon 
 
 He's ta'en her by the middle jimp, 
 
 
 the river Leader, about four miles from Melrose, 
 
 And by the grass-green sleeve ; 
 
 
 and is now the property of Dr Hume." — Min- 
 
 He's lifted her over the fauld dyke. 
 
 
 ttrelsy of the Scottish Border.] i 
 
 (t And speer'd at her sma' leave. 
 
 
 

 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 289 
 
 
 
 he's ta'en out a purse o' gowd, i 
 
 % " Ye lied, ye lied, my very bonnie may, 
 
 
 
 And streek'd her yellow hair, 
 
 Sae loud as I hear you lie ; 
 
 
 
 " Now, take ye that, my bonnie may, 
 
 For dinna ye mind that misty night 
 
 
 
 Of me till you hear mair." 
 
 I was i' the bought wi' thee ? 
 
 
 
 he's leapt on his berry-brown steed, 
 
 " I ken you by your middle sae jimp, 
 
 
 
 An' soon he's o'erta'en his men ; 
 
 An' your merry twinkling e'e, 
 
 
 
 And ane and a' cried out to him, 
 
 That ye're the bonnie lass i' the Cowdenknows, 
 
 
 
 " master, ye've tarry'd long !" 
 
 And ye may weel seem for to be." 
 
 
 
 "01 ha'e been east, and I ha'e been west, 
 An' I ha'e been fur o'er the know, 
 
 But the bonniest lass that ever I saw 
 Is i' the bought milking the ewes." 
 
 Then he's leapt off his berry-brown steed, 
 An' he's set that fair may on— 
 
 " Ca' out your kye, gude father, yoursel', 
 For she's never ca' them out again. 
 
 
 
 She set the cog upon her head, 
 
 An' she's gane singing harae — 
 " where ha'e ye been, my ae daughter i 
 
 " I am the laird of the Oakland hills, 
 I ha'e thirty plows and three ; 
 
 
 
 Ye ha'e na been your lane." 
 
 An' I ha'e gotten the bonniest lass 
 That's in a' the south country." 
 
 
 
 " nae body was wi' me, father, 
 
 
 
 
 nae body has been wi' me ; 
 
 
 
 
 The night is misty and mirk, father, 
 
 
 
 
 Te may gang to the door and see. 
 
 
 
 
 " But wae be to your ewe-herd, father, 
 
 I^fa JIW anb JMac W&n. 
 
 
 
 And an ill deed may he dee ; 
 
 
 
 
 He bug the bought at the back o' the know, 
 And a tod has frighted me. 
 
 [From Buchan's Collection.] 
 
 
 
 " There came a tod to the bought-door, 
 
 Far in yon Isles beyond Argyle, 
 
 
 
 The like I never saw ; 
 
 Where flocks and herds were plenty, 
 
 
 
 And ere he had tane the lamb he did, 
 
 Liv'd a rich heir, whose sister fair 
 
 
 
 I had lourd he had ta'en them a'." 
 
 Was flower ower a' that country. 
 
 
 
 whan fifteen weeks was come and gane, 
 
 A knight, Sir Niel, had woo'd her lang, 
 
 
 
 Fifteen weeks and three, 
 
 Intending for to marry; 
 
 
 
 That lassie began to look thin and pale, 
 
 But when she saw the young Glengyle, 
 
 
 
 An' to long for his merry twinkling e'e. 
 
 He wan her heart entirely. 
 
 
 
 It fell on a day, on a het simmer day, 
 
 Then tidings to her brother came, 
 
 
 
 She was ca'ing out her father's kye, 
 
 Sir Niel had boasted proudly, 
 
 
 
 By came a troop o' gentlemen, 
 
 In favours of his sister fair, 
 
 
 
 A' merrilie riding bye. 
 
 This made him to swear roudly. 
 
 
 
 " Weel may ye save an' see, bonnie may, 
 
 Swearing for all the friendship past, 
 
 
 
 "Weel may ye save and see 1 
 
 If ance he saw the morning, 
 
 
 
 Weel I wat, ye be a very bonnie may, 
 
 This knight by him should breathe his last, 
 
 
 
 But whae's aught that babe ye are wi* ?" 
 
 Or make him rue his scorning. 
 
 
 
 Never a word could that lassie say, 
 
 Down on yon shore where wild waves roar- 
 
 
 
 For never a ane could she blame, 
 
 A challenge he did send him ; 
 
 
 
 An' never a word could the lassie say, 
 
 Before the sun, these two men met, 
 
 
 
 But, " I have a good man at name." \ 
 
 f Nae seconds to attend them. 
 
 
 
 
 
290 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 " What ail9, what ails my dearest friend ? 
 
 Why want you to destroy me ?" 
 " I -want nae flattery from Sir Niel, 
 
 Unsheath your sword and try me." 
 
 " I will not fight with you, Mac "Van, 
 
 You never me offended ; 
 And if I aught to you have done, 
 
 I'll own my fault, and mend it." 
 
 " Does this become so brave a knight ? 
 
 Does blood sae much surprise you ? 
 And if you do refuse to fight, 
 
 I'll like a dog chastise you." 
 
 " O, foolish man don't tempt your fate, 
 Nor don't presume to strike me; 
 
 Remember nane in fair Scotland 
 Can wield the broad-sword like me." 
 
 " The sword, you say, can handle well, 
 
 And boasteth very boldly; 
 Your boasting is set off with skill, 
 
 Your actions seem but cowardly." 
 
 He being mad at this abuse, 
 
 A furious stroke he darted, 
 Into the breast of bold Mac Van, 
 
 Who with a groan departed. 
 
 " Curse on my skill, what have I done ? 
 
 Hash man, but you would have it, 
 To force a friend to take thy life, 
 
 Who would lose blood to save it ' 
 
 " Now, woe is me, for this I die, 
 And now it cannot be mended; 
 
 That happiness that was sae nigh, 
 By one rash stroke is ended. 
 
 " But I'll exile to some foreign isle, 
 
 To fly I know not whither; 
 I darena face my bonnie Ann, 
 
 When 1 ha'e slain her brither." 
 
 Then casting round a mournful eye, 
 To see that nane was nigh him ; 
 
 There he saw the young Glengyle, 
 Who like the wind came flying. 
 
 " I've come too late to stop the strife, 
 But since you've been victorious, 
 
 Upon your life I'll be reveng'd, 
 My honour bids me do this." 
 
 Then with Glengyle he did enclose, 
 Not meaning for to harm him ; 
 
 And thrice with wounds he did him pierce, 
 Yet he could scarce discern them. 
 
 " Yield up your sword to me, Glengyle, 
 Our quarrel's honour founded ; 
 
 I could ha'e pierc'd thy dauntless breast, 
 Three times I have you wounded." 
 
 Then saying so, he quit his ground, 
 
 Glengyle with this advanced, 
 And pierc'd the heart of brave Sir Niel 
 
 Till the spear behind him glanced. 
 
 Then falling down, he cried, "I'm slain, 
 
 Adieu to all things earthly ! 
 Farewell, Glengyle, the day's your ain, 
 
 But ye ha'e won it basely." 
 
 When tidings came to Lady Ann, 
 Times after times she fainted ; 
 
 She ran and kiss'd their clay-cold lips, 
 And thus her case lamented : — 
 
 " O thou the guardian of my youth, 
 
 My young, my only brother, 
 Alas ! for thy untimely end, 
 
 I'll mourn till life is over ! 
 
 " And thou, my love, why wast thou slain, 
 
 All in thy youthful blossom ; 
 Nae mair I'll love that treach'rous man, 
 
 That pierc'd thy manly bosom. 
 
 " Thou tender- hearted wast and true, 
 
 Thy honour's been abused ; 
 A braver man ne'er faced a foe, 
 
 Had you been fairly used. 
 
 " For you a maid I'll live and die, 
 Glengyle shall ne'er espouse me; 
 
 Till seven years are come and gane, 
 The dowie black shall clothe me." 
 
 %i\u ^atllU, 
 
 " A Ballad under this name, and somewhat 
 similar, was printed by Wotherspoon, in the 
 second volume of his Collection : there are, how- 
 ever, some breaches in that one, which are now 
 

 
 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 291 
 
 
 happily made up in this one. There is also a & "I winna gang alang wi' you, 
 
 
 
 difference between them in the manner of de- 
 
 Indeed I maun confess ; 
 
 
 
 tail. The Duncan Graeme mentioned in the 
 
 I can neither milk cow nor ewe, 
 
 
 
 ballad is only fictitious, to prevent the real name 
 
 .Nor yet can I speak Earse." 
 
 
 
 being known. 
 
 
 
 
 " Lizie Baillie was a daughter of the Reverend 
 
 " never fear, Lizie," he said, 
 
 
 
 Mr Baillie's, and lady's maid to the Countess of 
 
 " If ye will gang wi' me ; 
 
 
 
 Saltoun, to whose son, Alexander, master of 
 
 All that is into my place, 
 
 
 
 Saltoun, she bare a child. The young man 
 
 Can speak as gude Scotch as thee. 
 
 
 
 wished to legitimatise the offspring of his unlaw- 
 
 
 
 
 ful love, by marrying the mother of his child, 
 
 " But for a time, we now maun part, 
 
 
 
 but was prevented by Lord and Lady Sal- 
 
 I hinna time to tarry ; 
 
 
 
 toun, his father and mother, as being below his 
 
 Next when we twa meet again, 
 
 
 
 degree; when he retorted by saying, — 'She was 
 
 Will be in Castlecary." 
 
 
 
 a minister's daughter, and he was but a minis- 
 
 
 
 
 ter's grandson.' He, on the mother's side, hav- 
 
 When Lizie tarried out her time, 
 
 
 
 ing descended from Dr James Sharpe, Arch- 
 
 Unto her father's came; 
 
 
 
 bishop of St Andrews, who was assassinated in 
 
 The very first night she arrived, 
 
 
 
 1679. The young nobleman's mother's name 
 
 Wha comes but Duncan Grseme. 
 
 
 
 was Margaret Sharpe, who married William, 
 
 
 
 
 second Lord Saltoun, and he was the only issue. 
 
 Says, " Bonny Lizie Baillie, 
 
 
 
 After having continued a considerable length of 
 
 A gude deed mat ye dee ; 
 
 
 
 time a bachelor, he married Lady Mary Gordon, 
 
 Although to me ye brake your tryst, 
 
 
 
 daughter of George Earl of Aberdeen, and Lizie 
 
 Now I am come for thee." 
 
 
 
 Baillie wa3 then forgotten. The late Mr Fraser, 
 
 
 
 
 minister of Tyrie, was agrandson to Lizie Baillie, 
 
 " stay at hame, her father said," 
 
 
 
 «.nd great grandson to Alexander Fraser, third 
 
 Your mither cannot want thee ; 
 
 
 
 Lord Saltoun."— Buchan'a Ballads of the North.] 
 
 And gin ye gang awa' this night, 
 We'll ha'e a Killycrankie." 
 
 
 
 It fell about the Lammas time, 
 
 
 
 
 When flowers were fresh and green ; 
 
 " My bonnie Lizie Baillie, 
 
 
 
 Lizie Baillie to Gartartan went, 
 
 come to me without delay; 
 
 
 
 To see her sister Jean. 
 
 O would ye ha'e sae little wit. 
 
 As mind what odd folks wad say ?" 
 
 
 
 She meant to go unto that place, 
 
 
 
 
 To stay a little while ; 
 
 She wouldna ha'e the Lowlandman, 
 
 
 
 But mark what fortune her befell, 
 
 That wears the coat sae blue ; 
 
 
 
 When she went to the isle. 
 
 But she would ha'e the Highlandman, 
 That wears the plaid and trews. 
 
 
 
 It fell out upon a day, 
 Sheep-shearing at an end ; 
 
 Lizie Baillie she walk'd out, 
 To see a distant friend. 
 
 Out it spake her mother then, 
 
 A sorry heart had she ; 
 Says, " Wae be to his Highland face, 
 
 That's ta'en my lass frae me !" 
 
 
 
 But going down in a low glen, 
 
 
 
 
 She met wi' Duncan Graeme, 
 
 
 
 
 
 Who courted her along the way, 
 
 
 
 
 Likewise conveyed her hame. 
 
 ®&e Eafafc of WL&xHtovM. 
 
 
 
 " My bonnie Lizie Baillie, 
 
 
 
 
 I'll row you in my plaidie ; 
 
 ["John Kincaid, Laird of Waristoun, (an estate 
 
 
 
 If ye'll gang ower the hills wi' me, 
 
 situated between the city of Edinburgh and the 
 
 
 
 And be a Highland ladie." , 
 
 ^sea, towards Leith,) was murdered, on the 2nd 
 
 
 
 
292 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 of July 1600, by a man named Rolert "Weir, 
 who was employed to do so by his wife, Jean 
 Livingstone, daughter of the Laird of Dunipace. 
 The unfortunate woman, who thus became im- 
 plicated in a crime so revolting to humanity, 
 was only twenty-one years of age at the time. It 
 is probable from some circumstances, that her 
 husband was considerably older than herself, 
 and also that their marriage was any thing but 
 one of love. It is only alleged, however, that she 
 was instigated to seek his death by resentment 
 for some bad treatment on his part, and, in parti- 
 cular, for a bite which he had inflicted on her arm. 
 There was something extraordinary in the deli- 
 beration with which this wretched woman ap- 
 proached the awful gulf of crime. Having re- 
 solved on the means to be employed in the mur- 
 der, she sent for a quondam servant of her father, 
 Robert Weir, who lived inthe neighbouring city. 
 He came to the place of Waristoun, to see her; 
 but, for some unexplained reason, was not ad- 
 mitted. She again sent for him, and he again 
 went. Again he was not admitted. At length, 
 on his being called a third time, he was intro- 
 duced to her presence. Before this time she had 
 found an accomplice in the nurse of her child. 
 It was then arranged, that Weir should be con- 
 cealed in a cellar till the dead of night, when he 
 should come forth and proceed to destroy the 
 laird as he lay in his chamber. The bloody tra- 
 gedy was acted precisely in accordance with this 
 plan. Weir was brought up, at midnight, from 
 the cellar to the hall by the lady herself, and 
 afterwards went forward alone to the laird's bed- 
 room. As he proceeded to his bloody work, she 
 retired to her bed, to wait the intelligence of her 
 husband's murder. When Weir entered the 
 chamber, Waristoun awoke with the noise, and 
 leant inquiringly over the side of the bed. The 
 murderer then leapt upon him ; the unhappy 
 man uttered a great cry ; Weir gave him several 
 dreadful blows on vital parts, particularly one 
 on the flank vein. But as the laird was still 
 able to cry out, he at length saw fit to take more 
 effective measures : he seized him by the throat 
 with both hands, and, compressing that part 
 with all his force, succeeded, after a few minutes, 
 in depriving him of life. When the lady heard 
 her husband's first death-shout, she leapt out of 
 bed, in an agony of mingled horror and repent- 
 ance, and descended to the hall ; but she made 
 no effort to countermand her mission of destruc- 
 tion. She waited patiently till Weir came down 
 to inform her that all was over. < 
 
 " Weir made an immediate escape from justice, 
 but Lady Waristoun and the nurse were appre- 
 hended before the deed was half a day old. Being 
 caught, as the Scottish law terms it, red-hand — 
 that is, while still bearing unequivocal marks of 
 guilt, they were immediately tried by the magis- 
 trates of Edinburgh, and sentenced to be stran- 
 gled and burnt at a stake. The lady's lather, 
 the Laird of Dunipace, was a favourite of King 
 James VI., and he made all the interest he 
 could with his majesty to procure a pardon ; but 
 all that he could obtain from the king, was an 
 order that the unhappy lady should be executed 
 by decapitation, and that at such an early hour 
 in the morning as to make the affair as little of a 
 spectacle as possible. 
 
 " The space intervening between her sentence 
 and her execution was only thirty-seven hours; yet 
 in that little time, Lady Waristoun contrived to 
 become converted from a blood-stained and un- 
 relenting murderess into a perfect saint on earth. 
 One of the then ministers of Edinburgh has left 
 an account of her conversion, which was lately 
 published, and would be extremely amusing, 
 were it not for the disgust which seizes the mind 
 on beholding such an instance of perverted reli- 
 gion. She went to the scaffold with a demeanour 
 which would have graced a martyr. Her lips 
 were incessant in the utterance of pious excla- 
 mations. She professed herself confident of 
 everlasting happiness. She even grudged every 
 moment which she spent in this world, as so 
 much taken from that sum of eternal felicity 
 which she was to enjoy in the next. The people 
 who came to witness the last scene, instead of 
 having their minds inspired with a salutary hor- 
 ror for her crime, were engrossed with admira- 
 tion of her saintly behaviour, and greedily ga- 
 thered up every devout word which fell from her 
 tongue. It would almost appear from the nar- 
 rative of the clergyman, that her fate was rather 
 a matter of envy than of any other feeling. Her 
 execution took place at four in the morning of 
 the 5th of July, at the Watergate, near Holy- 
 roodhouse ; and at the same hour her nurse was 
 burnt on the castle-hill. It is some gratification 
 to know, that the actual murderer, Weir, was 
 eventually seized and executed, though not till 
 four years after." — Chambers.'] 
 
 Doun by yon bonnie garden green, 
 
 Sae merrily as she gaes ! 
 She has, I wis, twa weel-made feet, 
 
 And she trips upon her taes. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 SCOTTISH 
 
 BALLADS. 293 
 
 
 Sne has twa weel-made feet, I trow ; 4 
 
 Far better is her hand ; 
 She is as jimp in the middle sae fine, 
 
 As ony willow wand. 
 
 ! In it came her mother dear ; 
 A sorry woman was she : 
 " I wad gi'e my white money and gowd, 
 Bonnie Jean to borrow thee." 
 
 
 
 It was at dinner as they sat, 
 
 And when they drank the wine, 
 
 How happy were the laird and lady 
 Of bonnie Waristoun I 
 
 " Borrow me, mother ! borrow me 
 borrowed sail I never be ; 
 
 For I garr'd kill my ain gude lord, 
 And life's nae pleasure to me." 
 
 
 
 But he has spoken a word in jest ; 
 
 Her answer was not good ; 
 And he has thrown a plate at her, 
 
 Made her mouth gush out o' blude. 
 
 Then in it came her father dear ; 
 
 A sorry man was he : 
 " Ochon, alas, my bonnie Jean ! 
 
 If I had you at hame wi' me ! 
 
 
 
 She wasna frae her chamber door 
 A step, but barely three, 
 
 When up and at her richt hand 
 There stood Man's Enemie ! 
 
 " Seven daughters I ha'e left at hame, 
 
 As fair as fair can be ; 
 But I would gi'e them a', ane by ane, 
 
 Jean, to borrow thee." 
 
 
 
 *' Gif ye will do my bidding, lady, 
 At my bidding for to be, 
 
 I'll learn you a richt skeely wile, 
 Avenged for to be. 
 
 ** borrow me, father ! borrow me ! 
 
 Borrowed sail I never be ; 
 I that is worthy o' the death 
 
 It's richt that I suld dee. 
 
 
 
 " At evening, when ye sit and sup, 
 And when ye drink the wine, 
 
 See that ye fill the glass weel up 
 To the Laird o' Waristoun." 
 
 " Warristoun, I was your wife 
 These nine years, running ten , 
 
 And I never lo'ed ye half sae weel 
 As now when ye're lying slain ! 
 
 
 
 The Foul Thief he has kuist the knot; 
 
 She lift his head on hie ; 
 And the fause nourice drew the knot, 
 
 That Waristoun garr'd die. 
 
 " Cause tak' me out at nicht, at nicht; 
 
 Let the sun not on me shine : 
 And on yon heiding hill strike aff 
 
 This dowie heid of mine. 
 
 
 
 Then word has gane to Leith, to Leith, 
 
 And up to Edinbro toun, 
 That the lady she has slain the laird, 
 
 The laird of Waristoun. 
 
 " But first tak' aff my gowd brocade; 
 
 Let only my petticoat be ; 
 And tie my mantle ower my head; 
 
 For my death I daurna see." 
 
 
 
 And they've ta'en her and the fause nourice, 
 And in prison ha'e them boun' ; 
 
 The nourice she was hard of heart, 
 But the lady fell in a swoom. 
 
 Sae they've ta'en her to the heiding hill, 
 
 At morn, afore the sun ; 
 And wi'mournfu' sighs they've ta'en her life, 
 
 For the death o' Waristoun. 
 
 
 
 In it came her brother dear ; 
 
 
 
 
 
 A sorry man was he : 
 " I wad gi'e a' the lands I ha'e, 
 Bonnie Jean, to borrow thee. 
 
 Wfyt HiUstg @oMe o* Cargill. 
 
 
 
 " borrow me, brother ! borrow me ! 
 
 borrowed sail I never be ; 
 For I garr'd kill my ain gude lord, 
 
 And life is nae pleasure to me." 
 
 [" This local ballad, which commemorates 
 
 some real event, is given from the recitation of 
 
 an old woman, residing in the neighbourhood of 
 
 \- Cambus Michael, Perthshire. It possesses, the 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 294 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 elements of good poetry, and, had it fallen into ifo " Gae tell my father and my mother, 
 
 
 
 the hands of those who make no scruple of inter- 
 
 It was naebody did me this ill ; 
 
 
 
 polating and corrupting the text of oral song, it 
 
 I was a-going my ain errands, 
 
 
 
 might have been made, with little trouble, a 
 
 Lost at the coble o' bonnie Cargill." 
 
 
 
 very interesting and pathetic composition. 
 
 
 
 
 " Kercock and Balathy are two small villages 
 
 She bored the boat in seven pairts, 
 
 
 
 on the banks of the Tay ; the latter is nearly op- 
 
 I wat she bored it wi' gude will ; 
 
 
 
 posite Stobhall. According to tradition, the ill- 
 
 And there they got the bonnie lad's corptm. 
 
 
 
 fated hero of the ballad had a leman in each of 
 
 In the kirk shot o' bonnie Cargill. 
 
 
 
 these places, and it was on the occasion of his 
 
 
 
 
 paying a visit to his Kercock love, that the 
 
 Oh a* the keys o' bonnie Stobha', 
 
 
 
 jealous dame in Balathy Toun, from a revengeful 
 
 I wat they at his belt did hing ; 
 
 
 
 feeling, scuttled the boat in which he was to re- 
 
 But a' the keys of bonnie Stobha', 
 
 
 
 cross the Tay to Stobhall."— Motherwell.'] 
 
 They now ly low into the stream. 
 
 
 
 David Drummond's destinie, 
 
 A braver page into his age, 
 
 
 
 Gude man o' appearance o' Cargill ; 
 
 Ne'er set a foot upon the plain , 
 
 
 
 I wat his blude rins in the flude, 
 
 His father to his mother said, 
 
 
 
 Sae sair against his parents' will. 
 
 " Oh sae sune as we've wanted him • 
 
 
 
 She was the lass o* Balathy toun, 
 
 " I wat they had mair luve than this, 
 
 
 
 And he the butler o' Stobhall ; 
 
 When they were young and at the scule; 
 
 
 
 And mony a time she wauked late> 
 
 But for his sake she wauked late, 
 
 
 
 To bore the coble o' Cargill. 
 
 And bored the coble o' bonnie Cargill. 
 
 
 
 His bed was made in Kercock ha", 
 
 " There's ne'er a clean sarkgaeon my back, 
 
 
 
 Of gude clean sheets and of the hay ; 
 
 Nor yet a kame gae in my hair ; 
 
 
 
 He wudna rest ae nicht therein, 
 
 There's neither coal nor candle licht, 
 
 
 
 But on the proud waters he wud gae. 
 
 Shall shine in my bower for ever mair. 
 
 
 
 His bed was made in Balathy toun, 
 
 " At kirk nor market I'se ne'er be at, 
 
 
 
 Of the clean sheets and of the strae; 
 
 Nor yet a blythe blink in my e'e ; 
 
 
 
 But I wat it was far better made, 
 
 There's ne'er a ane shall say to anither, 
 
 
 
 Into the bottom o' bonnie Tay. 
 
 That's the lassie garr'd the young man dee." 
 
 
 
 She bored the coble in seven pairts, 
 
 Between the yetts o' bonnie Stobha', 
 
 
 
 I wat her heart might ha'e been sae sair, 
 
 And the Kirkstyle o' bonnie Cargill ; 
 
 
 
 For there she got the bonnie lad lost, 
 
 There is mony a man and mother's son. 
 
 
 
 Wi' the curly locks and the yellow hair. 
 
 That was at my luve's burial. 
 
 
 
 He put his foot into the boat, 
 
 
 
 
 
 He little thocht o' ony ill : 
 
 
 
 
 But before that he was mid waters, 
 The weary coble began to fill. 
 
 3$oiiEte Jbugk ®ldawi&. 
 
 
 
 " Woe be to the lass o* Balathy toun, 
 
 [First published by Motherwell.] 
 
 
 
 I wat an ill death may she dee ; 
 
 
 
 
 For she bored the coble in seven pairts, 
 
 There lived a lady in Scotland, 
 
 
 
 And let the waters perish me ! 
 
 Hey my love and ho my joy ; 
 There lived a lady in Scotland, 
 
 
 
 " help ! O help 1 I can get nane, 
 
 Who dearly lovtd me; 
 
 
 
 Nae help o' man can to me come 1" 
 
 There lived a lady in Scotland, 
 
 
 
 This was about his dying words, 
 
 And she's fa'n in love wi* an Englishman, 
 
 
 
 "When he was choaked up to the chin. i 
 
 '? And bonnie Susie Cleland is to be burnt in Dundee* 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 295 
 
 
 
 The father unto the daughter came, ^ft Give to him this little pen-knife, 
 
 
 
 Hey m> love, &c. 
 
 Tell him to get another wife, 
 
 
 
 The father unto the daughter came, 
 
 For bonnie, &c. 
 
 
 
 Who dearly, &c. 
 
 
 
 
 The father unto the daughter came, 
 
 " Give to him this gay gold ring, 
 
 
 
 Saying, "Will you forsake that Englishman," 
 
 Hey my love, &c. 
 
 
 
 And bonnie Susie Cleland is to be burnt in 
 
 Give to him this gay gold ring, 
 
 
 
 Dundee ! 
 
 Who dearly loves, &e. 
 Give to him this gay gold ring, 
 
 
 
 " If you will not that Englishman forsake, 
 
 Tell him I'm going to my burning, 
 
 
 
 Hey my love, &c. 
 
 And bonnie," &c. 
 
 
 
 If you will not that Englishman forsake, 
 
 
 
 
 Who dearly, &c. 
 
 Her father he ca'd up the stake, 
 
 
 
 If you will not that Englishman forsake, 
 
 Hey my love, &c. 
 
 
 
 O I will burn you at a stake, 
 
 Her father he ca'd up the stake, 
 
 
 
 And bonnie," &c. 
 
 Who dearly, &c. 
 Her father he ca'd up the stake, 
 
 
 
 *' I will not that Englishman forsake, 
 
 Her brother he the fire did make, 
 
 
 
 Hey my love, &c. 
 
 And bonnie Susie Cleland was burnt in Dundee. 
 
 
 
 I will not that Englishman forsake, 
 
 
 
 
 Who dearly, &c. 
 
 
 
 
 
 I will not that Englishman forsake, 
 
 
 
 
 Though you should burn me at a stake, 
 And bonnie, &c. 
 
 SSafog Eon, ot tlfre 
 
 
 
 " where will I get a pretty little boy, 
 
 
 
 
 Hey my love, &c. 
 
 [From Motherwell's collection, where it is 
 
 
 
 where will I get a pretty little boy, 
 
 said to be popular in the southern parishes of 
 
 
 
 Who dearly, &c. 
 
 Perthshire.] 
 
 
 
 O where will I get a pretty little boy, 
 
 
 
 
 Who will carry tidings to my joy, 
 
 There were three ladies lived in a bower, 
 
 
 
 And bonnie," &c. 
 
 Eh vow bonnie, 
 And they went out to pull a flower, 
 
 
 
 " Here am I a pretty little boy, 
 
 On the bonnie banks o* Fordie. 
 
 
 
 Hey my love, &c. 
 Here am I a pretty little boy, 
 
 They hadna pu'ed a flower but ane, 
 
 
 
 Who dearly loves thee ; 
 Here am I a pretty little boy, 
 
 Who will carry tidings to thy joy, 
 
 Eh vow bonnie, 
 When up started to them a banisht man, 
 On the bonnie banks o' Fordie. 
 
 
 
 And bonnie," &c. 
 
 He's ta'en the first sister by her hand, 
 Eh vow bonnie, 
 
 
 
 " Give to him this right hand glove, 
 
 And he's turned her round and made her stand, 
 
 
 
 Hey my love, &c. 
 
 On the bonnie banks o' Fordie. 
 
 
 
 Give to him this right hand glove, 
 
 
 
 
 Who dearly loved me ; 
 
 " It's whether will ye be a rank robber's wife, 
 
 
 
 Give to him this right hand glove, 
 
 Eh vow bonnie, 
 
 
 
 Tell him to get another love, 
 
 Or will ye die by my wee pen-knife, 
 
 
 
 For bonnie, &c. 
 
 On the bonnie banks o' Fordie i" 
 
 
 
 " Give to him this little pen -knife, 
 
 " It's I'll not be a rank robber's wife, 
 
 
 
 Hey my love, Sec. 
 
 Eh vow bonnie, 
 
 
 
 Give to him this little pen-knife, 
 
 But I'll rather die by your wee pen-knife, 
 
 
 
 Who dearly, &c. \ 
 
 On the bonnie banks o" Fordie." 
 
 
 
296 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 He's killed this may and he's laid her by, 
 
 Eh vow bonnie, 
 For to bear the red rose company, 
 On the bonnie banks o' Fordie. 
 
 He's taken the second ane by the hand, 
 
 Eh vow bonnie, 
 And he's turned her round and made her stand, 
 On the bonnie banks o' Fordie. 
 
 " It's whether will ye be a rank robber's wife, 
 
 Eh vow bonnie, 
 Or will ye die by my wee pen-knife, 
 On the bonnie banks o' Fordie ?" 
 
 "I'll not be a rank robber's wife, 
 
 Eh vow bonnie, 
 But I'll rather die by your wee pen-knife, 
 On the bonnie banks o' Fordie." 
 
 He's killed this may and he's laid her by, 
 
 Eh vow bonnie, 
 For to bear the red rose company, 
 On the bonnie banks o' Fordie. 
 
 He's taken the youngest ane by the hand. 
 
 Eh vow bonnie, 
 And he's turned her round and made her stand, 
 On the bonnie banks ©' Fordie. 
 
 Says, " Will ye be a rank robber's wife, 
 
 Eh vow bonnie, 
 Or will ye die by my wee pen-knife, 
 On the bonnie banks o' Fordie." 
 
 " I'll not be a rank robber's wife, 
 
 Eh vow bonnie, 
 Nor will I die by your wee ken-knife, 
 On the bonnie banks o' Fordie. 
 
 " For I ha'e a brother in this wood, 
 
 Eh vow bonnie, 
 -And gin ye kill me, it's he'll kill thee, 
 On the bonnie banks o' Fordie." 
 
 " What's thy brother's name, come tell to me ? 
 
 Eh vow bonnie." 
 My brother's name is Baby Lon, 
 On the bonnie bank3 o' Fordie." 
 
 " O sister, sister, what have I done, 
 
 Eh vow bonnie, 
 O have I done this ill to thee, 
 
 On the bonnie banks o* Fordie i 4 
 
 " O since I've done this evil deed, 
 
 Eh vow bonnie, 
 Good sail never be seen o' me, 
 On the bonnie banks o* Fordie." 
 
 He's taken out his wee pen-knite, 
 
 Eh vow bonnie, 
 And he's twyned himsel' o' his ain sweet life, 
 On the bonnie banks o* Fordie. 
 
 sprint* Molert. 
 
 [From the Border Minstrelsy, where it is given 
 from the recitation of a Lady.] 
 
 Princb Robert has wedded a gay ladye, 
 
 He has wedded her with a ring; 
 Prince Robert has wedded a gay ladye, 
 
 But he darna bring her name. 
 
 " Your blessing, your blessing, my mother dearl 
 Tour blessing now grant to me !" 
 
 " Instead of a blessing ye sail have my curse, 
 And you'll get nae blessing frae me." 
 
 She has called upon her waiting maid, 
 
 To fill a glass of wine ; 
 She has called upon her false steward, 
 
 To put rank poison in. 
 
 She has put it to her roudes lip,* 
 
 And to her roudes chin ; 
 She has put it to her fause fause mouth, 
 
 But the never a drap gaed in. 
 
 He has put it to his bonnie mouth, 
 
 And to his bonnie chin, 
 He's put it to his cherry lip, 
 
 And sae fast the rank poison ran in. 
 
 " O ye ha'e poisoned your ae son, mother, 
 
 Tour ae son and your heir ; 
 O ye ha'e poisoned your ae son, mother, 
 
 And sons you'll never ha'e mair. 
 
 " O where will I get a little boy, 
 
 That will win hose and shoon, 
 To run sae fast to Darlinton, 
 
 And bid fair Eleanor come?" 
 
 Roudes— haggard. 
 

 
 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 297 
 
 
 Then up and spake a little boy, & She's turned her back unto the wa', 
 
 
 
 That wad win hose and shoon,— 
 
 And her face unto a rock ; 
 
 
 
 " O I'll away to Darlinton, 
 
 And there, before the mother's face, 
 
 
 
 And bid fair Eleanor come." 
 
 Her very heart it broke. 
 
 
 
 he has run to Darlinton, 
 
 The tane was buried in Mary's kirk, 
 
 
 
 And tirled at the pin ; 
 
 The tother in Mary's quair ; 
 
 
 
 And wha was sae ready as Eleanor's seP 
 
 And out o' the tane there sprang a birk, 
 
 
 
 To let the bonnie boy in ? 
 
 And out o' the tother a brier. 
 
 
 
 " Your gude-mother has made ye a rare 
 
 And thae twa met, and thae twa plat, 
 
 
 
 dinour, 
 
 The birk but and the brier ; 
 
 
 
 She's made it baith gude and fine ; 
 
 And by that ye may very weel ken 
 
 
 
 Your gude-mother has made ye a gay dinour, 
 
 They were twa lovers dear.* 
 
 
 
 And ye maun cum till her and dine." 
 
 
 
 
 It's twenty lang miles to Sillertoun town, 
 
 
 
 
 The langest that ever were gane ; 
 
 EARL ROBERT. 
 
 
 
 But the steed it was wight, and the ladye was 
 
 
 
 
 light, 
 
 [From Motherwell's collection, where it is 
 
 
 
 And she cam' linkin' in. 
 
 said to be given from the recitation of an old 
 woman, a native of Bonhill, in Dumbarton- 
 
 
 
 But when she cam' to Sillertoun town, 
 
 shire.] 
 
 
 
 And into Sillertoun ha', 
 
 
 
 
 The torches were burning, the ladies were 
 
 It's fifty miles to Sittangen's rocks. 
 
 
 
 mourning, 
 
 As ever was ridden or gane ; 
 
 
 
 And they were weeping a*. 
 
 And Earl Robert has wedded a wife, 
 But he darna bring her hame. 
 
 
 
 " where is now my wedded lord, 
 
 And Earl Robert has wedded a wife, &c 
 
 
 
 And where now can he be ? 
 
 
 
 
 O where is now my wedded lord ? 
 
 His mother she call'd to her waiting maid : 
 
 
 
 For him I canna see." 
 
 " bring me a pint of wine, 
 For I dinna weel ken what hour of this day 
 
 
 
 " Your wedded lord is dead," she says, 
 
 That my son Earl Robert shall dine." 
 
 
 
 " And just gane to be laid in the clay ; 
 
 
 
 
 Your wedded lord is dead," she says, 
 
 She's put it to her fause, fause cheek, 
 
 
 
 " And just gane to be buried the day. 
 
 But an' her fause, fause chin ; 
 She's put it to her fause, fause lips, 
 
 
 
 " Ye'se get nane o' his gowd, ye'se get nane o' 
 
 But never a drap went in. 
 
 
 
 his gear, 
 
 
 
 
 Ye'se get nae thing frae me ; 
 
 But he's put it to his bonnie cheek, 
 
 
 
 Ye'se no get an inch o' his gude braid land, 
 
 Aye and his bonnie chin ; 
 
 
 
 Though your heart suld burst in three." 
 
 He's put it to his red rosy lips, 
 
 And the poison went merrily down. 
 
 
 
 " I want nane o' his gowd, I want nane o' his 
 
 
 
 
 gear, 
 
 " where will I get a bonnie boy, 
 
 
 
 I want nae land frae thee ; 
 
 That will win hose and shoon — 
 
 
 
 But I'll ha'e the rings that's on his finger, 
 
 That will gang quickly to Sittengen's rock, 
 
 
 
 For them he did promise to me." 
 " Ye'se no get the rings that's on his finger, 
 
 And bid my lady come ?" 
 
 
 
 
 Ye'se no get them frae me ; 
 
 * The last two verses are common to many 
 
 
 
 Ye'se no get the rings that's on his finger, 
 
 ballads, and are probably derived from some old 
 
 
 
 An' your heart suld burst in three." | 
 
 } metrical romance, since we find the idea occur 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 298 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 It's out then speaks a bonnie boy, & And thir twa grew, and thir twa threw, 
 
 
 
 To Earl Robert was something a kin ; | 
 
 Till this twa craps drew near ; 
 
 
 
 '* Many a time heve I run thy errand, 
 
 So all the world may plainly see 
 
 
 
 But this day with the tears I'll rin." That they lov'd each other dear. 
 
 
 
 when he cam' to Sittengen's rocks, 
 
 
 
 To the middle of a' the ha', 
 
 
 
 
 There were bells a ringing and music playing, 
 And ladies dancing a'. 
 
 Hafot TOfa'st pi|raiiiL 
 
 
 
 " What news, what news, my bonnie boy, 
 
 [The following ballad, which is founded on a 
 
 
 
 What news have ye to me ; 
 
 Highland tradition, and now given in a revised 
 
 
 
 Is Earl Robert in very good health, 
 
 state, appeared first in the Newcastle Magazine 
 
 
 
 And the ladies of your countrie ?" 
 
 for May, 1827. Its scene, Glenelchaig, in Kin- 
 tail, Ross-shire, is, with the exception perhaps of 
 
 
 
 " Earl Robert is in very good health, 
 
 Glencoe, the most rugged locality in the West 
 
 
 
 And as weel as a man can be ; 
 
 Highlands. The author of the Ballad is Mr 
 
 
 
 But his mother this night has a drink to be 
 
 James Telfer, Teacher, parish of Castleton, 
 
 
 
 druken, 
 
 Langholm.] 
 
 
 
 And at it ye must be." 
 
 " Remain with us, thou gentle guest, 
 
 
 
 She called to her waiting maid, 
 
 Remain with us, till morning stay ; 
 
 
 
 To bring her a riding weed ; 
 
 The daylight's dying in the west, 
 
 
 
 And she called to her stable groom, 
 
 And long and lonesome is the way 
 
 
 
 To saddle her milkwhite steed. 
 
 " My sons to wake the deer are gone 
 
 
 
 But when she came to Earl Robert's bouir, 
 
 In far Glen Affric's wild wood glade ; 
 
 
 
 To the middle of a' the ha', 
 
 Flora and I are left alone, 
 
 
 
 There were bells a ringing and sheets down 
 
 Give us thy company, dear maid. 
 
 
 
 hinging, 
 
 
 
 
 And the ladies murning a'. 
 
 "Think not that covert guile doth lie 
 Disguised in garb of fair goodwill, 
 
 
 
 " I've come for none of his gold," she said, 
 
 The name of hospitality 
 
 
 
 " Nor none of his white monie ; 
 
 Is sacred on the Highland hill. 
 
 
 
 Excepting a ring of his smallest finger, 
 
 
 
 
 If that you will grant me ?" 
 
 " Wert thou the daughter of my foe, 
 As thou'rt the Saxon stranger's child, 
 
 
 
 "Thoull no get none of his gold," she said, 
 
 I would not, could not let thee go 
 
 
 
 " Nor none of his white monie ; 
 
 To be benighted in the wild.* 
 
 
 
 Thou'll no get a ring of his smallest finger, 
 
 
 
 
 Though thy heart should break in three." 
 
 " Flora, my darling, cheer prepare, 
 And bid the maid our welcome prove , 
 
 
 
 She set her foot unto a stone, 
 
 Old Kenneth of the snowy hair, 
 
 
 
 Her back unto a tree ; 
 
 Is young to see his daughter's love." 
 
 
 
 She set her foot unto a stone, 
 
 
 
 
 And her heart it brak in three ! 
 
 " Entreat me not, thou good old man," 
 With falt'ring toDgue the maid replied, 
 
 
 
 The one was buried in Mary's kirk, 
 
 " I must pursue my wayward plan, — 
 
 
 
 The other in Mary's quier ; 
 
 I may not, cannot here abide." 
 
 
 
 Out of the one there grew a bush, 
 
 
 
 
 From the other a bonnie brier. 
 
 " Ah ! maiden wayward sure thou art, 
 
 And if thou must, thou must be gone, 
 Yet was it never Kenneth's part 
 
 
 
 in the conclusion of the voluminous history of 
 
 
 
 Sir Tristrem.— Scott. i 
 
 |5 To send the helpless forth alone. 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 299 
 
 
 "An-blL;htmg Time hath me subdued, i 
 
 \ And louder heard the howl and bark, 
 
 
 
 Mine eyes are glazed and dim of ken, 
 
 With scream, and hiss, and shriek, and 
 
 
 
 The way is rugged, waste and rude — 
 
 groan. 
 
 
 
 Glenelchaig* is a dreary glen. 
 
 She came beneath that fatal rock 
 
 
 
 " Yet Flora will her father aid, 
 
 Where horror lower'd in tenfold WTath— 
 
 
 
 So speaks that bright expressive eye — 
 
 A hamlet here,:}: — the mountain broke, 
 
 
 
 Shall we desert the stranger maid, 
 
 And life was overwhelmed in death. 
 
 
 
 When other aid none else is nigh !" 
 
 She deem'd she heard the bursting crash, 
 
 
 
 " kind old man," the maiden spoke, 
 
 The agonized and stifled shriek ; 
 
 
 
 " All human aid I must forego, 
 
 Her senses reel, her ear-drums dash, 
 
 
 
 Sly sacred vow must not be broke — 
 
 Her eye-balls strain well nigh to break. 
 
 
 
 The vow the living must not know. 
 
 Yet sped she on, her heart beat high, 
 
 
 
 " Farewell !— entreat not, ! farewell." 
 
 So loud it did itself alarm ; 
 
 
 
 So said, she sped away in haste ; 
 
 She crossed at length the Altondye, 
 
 
 
 Deep, deep the gloom of evening fell, 
 
 Then lighter grew her thoughts of harm. 
 
 
 
 And heaven and earth were all a waste. 
 
 Still sped she on by rock and bush, 
 
 
 
 " Abate thy grief, thou white-hair'd man, 
 
 Her tender limbs much grievance found ; 
 
 
 
 And lovely Flora cease to weep ; 
 
 She heard the streams of Fahda rush, 
 
 
 
 For Heaven the heart can truly scan, 
 
 And hollow tongues were whispering round, 
 
 
 
 And doth of love remembrance keep. 
 
 Kilullinf met her sight at length- 
 
 
 
 ** For He who i3 our trust and might, 
 
 Corpse candles burnt with livid flame — 
 
 
 
 And who is with his own alway, 
 
 Now Heaven assist the maiden's strength, 
 
 
 
 As nigh us is in shades of night, 
 
 'Tis much to bear for mortal frame. 
 
 
 
 As in the brightest beams of day. 
 
 As near'd she to the camp of death, 
 
 1 
 
 
 " His presence shield the maiden's soul !" — 
 
 The lights danced in the yawning blast, 
 
 
 
 The gloom now dark and darker hung, 
 
 And sheeted spectres crossed her path, 
 
 
 
 "With wild continuous fearful howl, 
 
 All gibbering ghastly as they pass'd. 
 
 
 
 Each glen, each cliff, each cavern rung. 
 
 Yet high resolve could nothing harm, 
 
 
 
 Yet held she on — avaunt, dismay ! — 
 
 Sped on the maiden free of scathe ; 
 
 
 
 O'er sparry ledge and rolling stone ; 
 
 Night's clammy dews fell thick and warm, 
 
 
 
 Eude, dark, and toilsome was the way, 
 
 The sulph'ry air was hot to breathe. 
 
 
 
 And all untrod, yet held she on. 
 
 She reached at length Saint TJllin's Stone, 
 
 
 
 Yet held she on, by hill and stream, 
 
 Composed in effort thereon sate ; 
 
 
 
 Thro' tearing brakes and sinking swamps, 
 
 Thou Power that yet hast led her on, 
 
 
 
 "While savage eyes around her gleam, 
 
 Enstrengthen her the end to wait! 
 
 
 
 Like half-extinguished cavern lamps. 
 She heard the Glomah,f ever dark, 
 
 
 
 supposed by late tourists to be the highest in 
 
 
 Like wakening thunder deeply moan ; 
 
 Britain. 
 
 % There is a pass in Glenelchaig nearly blocked 
 up with detached pieces of rock. Here, says 
 
 
 
 - ' 
 
 
 
 
 tradition, was once a village, and the rock above 
 
 
 
 * Glenelchaig, in Kintail, Koss-shire, is about 
 
 giving way in the night buried it and all its in- 
 
 
 
 10 miles in length, and inconceivably rugged. 
 
 habitants. 
 
 
 
 f The Glomah is a water-fall from the moun- J 
 
 § Kilullin, literally the burying place of 
 
 
 
 tains on the southern side of Glenelchaig. It is a 
 
 ; Ullan. 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 300 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 She knelt her by the slumbering saint, & " *Twas seen your souls asunder rent 
 
 
 
 Viper and toad around her crawl ; 
 
 Each to its better being lost ; 
 
 
 
 Yet swerv'd she not — her soul grew faint, 
 
 In pity was a vision sent — 
 
 
 
 In prayer her lips did move— 'twas all. 
 
 You both are proved, and faith shall boast. 
 
 
 
 A languor chilled the living stream, 
 
 " Cease not to love while life shall last, 
 
 
 
 She sunk upon the mould of death ; 
 
 And smooth your path shall love divine ; 
 
 
 
 Say did she sleep as those who dream, 
 
 And when your mortal time is past, 
 
 
 
 Or sleep as those who slept beneath ? 
 
 This visioned blissful land is thine."— 
 
 
 
 Her sleep was not that mortal night 
 
 He ceased, — the maiden raised her eye, 
 
 
 
 In which the spirit leaves the clay ; 
 
 His radiant form she could not mark ; 
 
 
 
 Twas wak'ning to a vision bright 
 
 She heard the music fall and die — 
 
 
 
 Of light and everlasting day. 
 
 The vision pass'd, confused and dark. 
 
 
 
 'Twas wak'ning in another sphere, 
 
 She felt her heart give fitful thrill- 
 
 
 
 A fairer, purer, holier, higher ; 
 
 She felt the life stream slowly play- 
 
 
 
 Where all is eye, where all is ear, 
 
 She thought she heard the lark sing shrill- 
 
 
 
 Where all is gratified desire. 
 
 She thought 6he saw the breaking day. 
 
 
 
 Burst on her sight that world of bliss, 
 
 She felt impressed a glowing kiss, 
 
 
 
 Where woe and death may never come ; 
 
 She heard the well-known accents move — 
 
 
 
 She heard the hymns of Paradise, 
 
 She started round — powers of bliss ! 
 
 
 
 Where not a tuneful breeze is dumb. 
 
 *Tis Allan Samradh— he, her love 1 
 
 
 
 She saw Life's river flowing wide 
 
 Can fleeting visions sense enslave ? 
 
 
 
 With Love and Mercy on the brim, 
 
 No, these are past, she doth not sleep ; 
 
 
 
 Compared unto its crystal tide 
 
 'Tis he for whom she death could brave, — 
 
 
 
 The splendour of our sun was dim. 
 
 For whom her eyes in heaven could weep 
 
 
 
 And on that tide were floating isles, 
 
 The sun above the mountains bright 
 
 
 
 With bowers of ever-verdant green, 
 
 Streamed liquid gold o'er land and sea ; 
 
 
 
 Where sate beneath th' Eternal's smiles 
 
 Earth, ocean, sky did float in light, 
 
 
 
 Those who on earth had faithful been. 
 
 And Nature raised her hymns of glee. 
 
 
 
 She heard the hallelujahs rise 
 
 Our lovers saw not sea nor sun, 
 
 
 
 From those who stood before the throne ; 
 
 They heard not Nature's matin hymn ; 
 
 
 
 She turned aside her mortal eyes 
 
 Their souls were pour'd from one to one- 
 
 
 
 From what they might not look upon. 
 
 Each other's eyes, all else was dim. 
 
 
 
 Her lovely face she strove to hide, 
 
 
 
 
 It was, as angel's, mild and fair ; 
 
 
 
 
 She felt a tear spontaneous glide, 
 
 
 
 
 She thought of one she saw not there, 
 
 @J>* battle of Euiwartg. 
 
 *** 
 
 
 
 A shining seraph to her came, 
 
 
 
 
 In melody his accents moved, — 
 
 [Modern Ballad, by David Vkddeb. — " In 
 
 
 
 " Fair virgin of the mortal frame, 
 
 the year 980, when the Danes had invaded Scot- 
 
 
 
 Thy steadfast faith is well approved. 
 
 land, and prevailed in the battle of Luncarty, 
 near Perth, the Scots were worsted and gave way ; 
 
 
 
 " 'Twas seen thy soul devoid of stain— 
 
 and in their flight through a narrow pass, were 
 
 
 
 'Twas seen thy earthly passion pure — 
 
 stopped by a countryman and his two sons, who 
 
 
 
 Thou deem'dst thy love in battle slain — 
 
 encouraged them to rally and renew the fight ; 
 
 
 
 'Twas seen what virtue can endure. ^ 
 
 '? telling them that it was more honourable to die 
 
 
 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 301 
 
 in the field fighting for their king and country, ^ Their swords are out— and fair Strathmore 
 
 than to fly and be afterwards killed by the mer- 
 
 Is one promiscuous grave ; 
 
 ciless Danes; and upbraided those who would 
 
 
 fly like cowards, when all was at stake. The 
 
 The Esk, the Brotheck, Lunan, Tay, 
 
 more timorous stood still, and many of the stout 
 
 Run ruddy to the sea; 
 
 men, who fled more by the desertion of their 
 
 While altar, temple, tower, and town. 
 
 companions than want of courage, joined with 
 
 Are levelled with the lea! 
 
 the old man and his sons to stop the rest, till 
 
 
 there v/as a good number together. 
 
 The hut, the cottage, and the grange, 
 
 The countrymen, who were armed with only 
 
 Are blazing up to heaven ; 
 
 what their ploughs furnished, leading them on, 
 
 Decrepit eld, and babes alike, 
 
 and returning upon the Danes, made a furious 
 
 Are to this carnage given ; 
 
 onset, crying aloud, " Help is at hand ! " The 
 
 
 Danes, believing a fresh army was falling on 
 
 And beauteous maids and matrons fair 
 
 them, the Scots thereby totally defeated them, 
 
 Leap from the dizzy steep 
 
 and freed their own country from servitude. 
 
 And perish — pure as snow from heaven 
 
 The battle being over, the old man, afterwards 
 
 Upon the oeean deep. 
 
 known by the name of Hay, was brought to the 
 
 
 king, who, assembling a parliament at Scone, 
 
 The spoilers move exultingly, 
 
 gave to the said Hay and his sons, as a just re- 
 
 O'er Gowrie's fertile fields, 
 
 ward for their valour, so much land on the river 
 
 Their deadly spears a forest seemed, 
 
 Tay, in the district of Gowrie, as a falcon from a 
 
 A solid wall their shields; 
 
 man's hand flew over till it settled ; which, being 
 
 
 six miles in length, was afterwards called Errol. 
 
 Like locusts in their mortal flight 
 
 And the king being willing to promote the said 
 
 Upon the orient wind, 
 
 Hay and his sons from the rank of plebeians to 
 
 A paradise before them lay, 
 A blighted waste behind. 
 
 the order of nobility, he assigned them a coat-of- 
 
 arms, which was — argent, three escutcheons, 
 
 
 gules — to intimate that the father and two sons 
 
 Bathed in the setting light of heaven, 
 Imperial Bertha * shone, 
 
 had been the three fortunate shields of Scotland." 
 
 Scottish Peerage, Art. Hay.] 
 
 Like some empurpled orient queen 
 Upon her emerald throne. 
 
 The beacon lights are hlazing bright, 
 
 
 The slogan's on the blast ; 
 
 The waving woods, her gorgeous train, 
 
 The clansmen muster rapidly, 
 
 Seemed paying homage meet ; 
 
 The fiery cross flies fast ; 
 
 And Tay, emitting silver sounds, 
 
 
 Lay crouching at her feet. 
 
 Chiefs hurry from their towers of strength, 
 
 
 And vassals from their shiels ; 
 
 " Now, by the sacred mead that flows 
 
 For Albyn's strand's polluted by 
 
 In Odin's palace high— 
 
 An hundred hostile keels. 
 
 And by the blessed light that beams 
 
 
 From Thor's immortal eye, 
 
 Oh ! vermil cheeks shall pallid grow, 
 
 
 And sunny eyes shall weep; 
 
 " If there's a recreant in my host," 
 
 But not from fear nor sorrow, but 
 
 The giant Sweno cries, 
 
 From indignation deep ; 
 
 " His craven corse shall flesh my hounds— 
 
 
 His odious memory dies. 
 
 To see these Scandinavian wolves, 
 
 
 A wild unhallowed band, 
 
 "See, mountain, meadow, strath, and 
 
 Like demons ot destruction come 
 
 Behold the glorious prize, Lstream— 
 
 To waste our father-land. 
 
 The bright Valhalla of my dreams 
 
 The robber hordes are all debarked— 
 
 "When sleep had seale-i mine eyes; 
 
 
 Their raven -banners wave— i 
 
 « * The classical name of Perth. 
 
 
302 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 There lies the land of my desire — 
 
 The home of all my love ; 
 And there the Danish diadem 
 
 Shall shine all crowns above." 
 
 Ten thousand voices burst at once 
 
 In one loud chorus swell ; 
 Whilst echo from her mountain caves, 
 
 Prolonged the savage yell ; 
 
 Ten thousand brands on brazen shields 
 
 In dire collision clashed — 
 Ten thousand darts were hurled in air, 
 
 Or in the sod were dashed. 
 
 But hark ! a shout has answered theirs, 
 Like mountain torrents loud — 
 
 A marshalled host comes moving on 
 Dense as a thunder cloud— 
 
 And like that cloud, surcharged with death, 
 
 And rolling rapidly : — 
 That thunder-cloud is Scotland's King, 
 
 And Scotland's chivalry. 
 
 In fiery haste the Scots advance, 
 
 And with the invaders close — 
 Like tigers of their cubs bereaved, 
 
 They spring upon their foes. 
 
 And thousands fall no more to rise, 
 Gashed o'er with many a wound ; 
 
 And shrieks, and shouts, and groans are blent, 
 And life-blood stains the ground. 
 
 The Scottish monarch marked his track 
 
 Along the gory plain; 
 His beacons in that sea of blood 
 
 Were pyramids of slain. 
 
 He spurred his foaming charger on 
 
 Along the embattled line, 
 And with his ponderous battle-axe 
 
 Clove Sweno to the chine. 
 
 Now clan with clan, and son with sire, 
 
 And chief with chieftain vied, 
 To pierce the Danish phalanx through, 
 
 And turn the battle's tide. 
 
 For vassal, knight, and thane, alike 
 
 Their blood ran hot and high ; 
 Death glared from every falchion's edge, 
 
 And vengeance from each eye. 
 
 What boots it now how well they fought, 
 
 For ah ! they fought in vain ; 
 Their squadrons reel — their ranks are broke— 
 
 They fly before the Dane. 
 
 The banner of the silver cross 
 
 Lies trampled in the clay, 
 And for the glorious battle-cry, 
 
 'Tis, " Save himself who may." 
 
 See how they flee o'er moor and dale, 
 
 Like fugitives forlorn ; 
 Where is thine honour, Scotland, now ? 
 
 'Tis like thy banners — torn. 
 
 Yes, there is honour— there is hope— 
 
 For by this blessed light, 
 Three gallant men have left their teams, 
 
 And check'd the shameful flight. 
 
 And now they rally, form, and charge, 
 
 And gory gaps they hewed ; 
 With tenfold fury in their souls, 
 
 The battle was renewed. 
 
 'Twas hand to hand, and brand to brand, 
 
 And dirk and dagger met — 
 And flane and flane alternately 
 
 In red heart-blood were wet. 
 
 On, on, ye glorious peasants three, 
 
 The bloody die is cast ; 
 The Danes are routed — See ; they fly 
 
 Like snow-flakes on the blast. 
 
 On, on, ye peasant heroes, on, 
 And win your deathless meed — 
 
 The gory die at length is cast, 
 And Scotland's soil is freed. 
 
 There's mirth and kingly revelry 
 
 In Scoone's imperial hall ; 
 And squire and knight, and lord and thane, 
 
 Grace that high festival; 
 
 And royalty, in robes of state, 
 
 And beauty's bright display; 
 But every eye in homage turned 
 
 Upon the patriots Hay. 
 
 There's mimic warfare on the lawn, 
 
 Beneath the royal eye ; 
 There's lances shivered — knights unhorsed— 
 
 The flower of chivalry ; 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 303 
 
 And high-born dames, lit up with smiles 
 
 Bright as the milky way — 
 But O ! their smiles beamed brightest on 
 
 The stalwart peasants Hay. 
 
 Then royal Kenneth left his throne, 
 
 And laid his crown aside — 
 "Are you the glorious peasants three 
 
 That turned the battle's tide ? 
 
 " Your patent of nobility 
 
 Heaven gave you at your birth, 
 
 Alas ! a King can only add 
 The splendours of the earth. 
 
 " Such as we have we give. Be lords 
 
 Of Errol's fertile fields ; 
 And be your scutcheon blazoned with 
 
 Three blood-stained Scottish shields ; 
 
 " And may your fame, your glory, last 
 
 For ever and for aye, 
 For Scotland, to the end of time, 
 
 Shall bless the name of Hay." 
 
 nx <MIwt 3®HmUtoiii 
 
 [Modern Ballad. — Robert "White. — Here first printed.] 
 
 It fell upon a summer day, beyond the noontide hour, 
 Amidst all England's chivalry, in Windsor's royal tower, 
 That stern and high debate arose, for thus the question ran : — 
 Throughout the bounds of Christendom, who was the bravest man ? 
 
 Remarked Sir Gilbert Hamilton, a young and dauntless knight, 
 " I place King Robert Bruce before each other martial wight : 
 He hath been England's deadliest foe, as Bannockburn can tell ; 
 But in battle shock or listed field, no arm can his excel." — 
 
 De Spenser spoke : — " It ill becomes a knight in England born 
 To throw upon her chivalry such rude contempt and scorn; 
 But if Sir Gilbert Hamilton be not in jesting mood, 
 Perhaps, within his veins may run some trace of Scottish blood."— 
 
 " My mother was most virtuous, and that my lance shall prove 
 TTpon your helm when next we meet ; meantime, there lies my glove." 
 And as he spoke his gauntlet rang in centre of the hall : 
 De Spenser took the hostile pledge before the warriors all. 
 
 Oh ! eyes were strained, and hearts aroused upon the battle day, 
 When both the champions mounted came in proud and stern array 
 Short was the struggle, courses three in dreadful ire were run ; 
 De Spenser grovelled on the dust, his foe the honours won. 
 
 But few around the victor came his fair renown to grace ; 
 
 The man who fell beneath his lance was of a potent race : 
 
 And threatening looks .and sullen brows he met with every where ; 
 
 He must away — he must be gone, if he his life would spare. 
 
304 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 All armed in mail of burnished steel full gaily rode he forth ; 
 The broad and open way he kept that led him to the north : 
 Six suns upon his left had set — the seventh was shining bright, 
 When Scotland's lovely hills and dales lay stretched before his sight. 
 
 Through sounding rill and copsewood wild, on, on he held his way, 
 Until the banks and sweeping stream of Clyde before him lay : 
 Anon, the hunter's horn and bay of hounds came on his ear, 
 And from a grove of dark green pines leaped forth a panting deer. 
 
 Swift on its track in open view, advanced the mingling foe, 
 And soon amid the moss and fern they lay its antlers low : 
 Bold was the foremost horseman's look, majestic was his air, 
 Most firmly knit his frame and limbs, and sable dark his hair. 
 
 He gazed upon the stranger, " Sir knight, why comest thou here, 
 In coat of mail, with battle sword, to chase the flying deer ?" — 
 " From England's treacherous courtiers I come, my life to save, 
 And refuge seek from Bruce your king, the bravest of the brave. 
 
 " My name is Gilbert Hamilton ; — it chanced in Windsor Hall, 
 
 That lofty words and strife arose amongst our barons all, 
 
 And this the subject: — through each land where Christian banners wa^e. 
 
 Who was in battle's stern turmoil most chivalrous and brave ? 
 
 " TJnfearing to disclose the truth, I testimony bore 
 To Brace's fame, and gave him place all other knights before; 
 De Spenser mocked me bitterly ; but down my gage I threw : 
 We met within the battle lists,— the parasite I slew." — 
 
 " Enough, enough, Sir Gilbert ; we give thee welcome here ; 
 
 Look round thee, and where'er thine eye traverses far or near, 
 
 These acres broad shall be thine own, whilst thou that sword shalt bring 
 
 To aid fair Scotland's cause and mine, for I am Bruce, the king !" 
 
BOEDEE BALLADS. 
 
 [Ekprinted from the fifth Edition of Sir 
 Walter Scott's Minstrelsy of the Scottish Bor- 
 der.] 
 
 From the remote period, when the Roman pro- 
 vince was contracted by the ramparts of Severus, 
 until the union of the kingdoms, the borders of 
 Scotland formed the stage, upon which were pre- 
 sented the most memorable conflicts of two gal- 
 lant nations. The inhabitants, at the com- 
 mencement of this sera, formed the first wave of 
 the torrent, which assaulted, and finally over- 
 whelmed, the barriers of the Roman power in 
 Britain. The subsequent events, in which they 
 were engaged, tended little to diminish their 
 military hardihood, or to reconcile them to a 
 more civilized state of society. "We have no 
 occasion to trace the state of the borders during 
 the long and obscure period of Scottish history, 
 which preceded the accession of the Stuart 
 family. To illustrate a few ballads, the earliest 
 of which is hardly coeval with James V., such 
 an inquiry would be equally difficult and vain. 
 If we may trust the Welch bards, in their account 
 of the wars betwixt the Saxons and Danes of Deira 
 and the Cumraig, imagination can 
 hardly from any idea of conflicts 
 more desperate, than were maintained, on the 
 borders, between the ancient British and their 
 Teutonic invaders. Thus, the Gododin describes 
 
 the waste and devastation of mutual havoc, in 
 colours so glowing, as strongly to recall the words 
 of Tacitus; " Et ubi solitudinem faciunt , pacem 
 appellant.''^ 
 
 At a later period, the Saxon families, who fled 
 from the exterminating sword of the Conqueror, 
 with many of the Normans themselves, whom 
 discontent and intestine feuds had driven into 
 exile, began to rise into eminence upon the 
 Scottish borders. They brought with them arts, 
 both of peace and of war, unknown in Scotland; 
 and, among their descendants, we soon number 
 the most powerful border chiefs. Such, during the 
 reign of the last Alexander, were 
 Patrick, earl of March, and Lord 
 Soulis, renowned in tradition ; and such were 
 also the powerful Comyns, who early acquired 
 the principal sway upon the Scottish marches. 
 In the civil wars betwixt Bruce and 
 Baliol, all those powerful chieftains 
 espoused the unsuccessful party. They were for- 
 feited and exiled ; and upon their ruins was 
 founded the formidable house of Douglas. The 
 borders, from sea to sea, were now at the devo- 
 tion of a succession of mighty chiefs, whose 
 exorbitant power threatened to place a new 
 
 f In the spirited translation of this poem, by 
 Jones, the following verses are highly descrip- 
 tive of the exhausted state of the victor army : — 
 
 At Madoc's lent the clarion sound?, 
 With rapid candour hurried far: 
 
 Each echoing dtll the note re-ounds— 
 But when returns the sous of war! 
 
 Thou, born of stern neie-sity, 
 
 Dull peace! the desert yields to thee, 
 And owns thy melancholy sway. 
 
 A. D. 1429. 
 
 A. D. 1300. 
 
30Q BORDER BALLADS, 
 
 dynasty upon the Scottish throne. It is not ife liberally distributed among his conquerors, and 
 
 my intention to trace the dazzling career of this 
 race of heroes, whose exploits were alike for- 
 midable to the English and to their sovereign. 
 
 The sun of Douglas set in blood. The mur- 
 ders of the sixth earl, and his brother, in the 
 castle of Edinburgh, were followed by that of 
 their successor, poignarded at Stirling by the 
 hand of his prince. His brother, Earl James, 
 appears neither to have possessed the abilities 
 nor the ambition of his ancestors. He drew, 
 indeed, against his prince, the formidable sword 
 of Douglas, but with a timid and hesitating 
 hand. Procrastination ruined his cause ; and 
 he was deserted, at Abercorn, by the knight of 
 Cadyow, chief of the Hamiltons, and by his most 
 active adherents, after they had ineffectually 
 
 ■ t, ,,.„ exhorted him to commit his fate to 
 A. D. 145o. 
 
 the issue of a battle. The border 
 
 miefs, who longed for independence, showed 
 little inclination to follow the de- 
 clining fortunes of Douglas. On 
 vhe contrary, the most powerful clans engaged 
 and defeated him, at Arkinholme, in Annan- 
 dale, when, after a short residence in England, 
 he again endeavoured to gain a footing in his 
 native country, f The spoils of Douglas were 
 
 A. D. 1455. 
 
 f At the battle of Arkinholme, the Earl of 
 Angus, a near kinsman of Douglas, commanded 
 the royal forces ; and the difference of their com- 
 plexion occasioned the Baying, "that the Black 
 Douglas had put down the Red." The Max- 
 wells, the Johnstones, and the Scotts, com- 
 posed his army. Archibald, Earl of Murray, 
 brother to Douglas, was slain in the action ; 
 and Hugh, Earl of Ormond, his spcond brother, 
 was taken and executed. His captors, Lord 
 Carlisle, and the Baron of Johnstone, were 
 rewarded with a grant of (he lands of Pittinane, 
 upon Clyde. — Godscroft, vol. i. p. 375. — Balfour's 
 MS. in the Advocate's Library, Edinburgh. — 
 Abercrombie's Achievements, vol. ii. p. 361. folio 
 Ed. — The other chiefs were also distinguished by 
 royal favour. By a charter, upon record, dated 
 25th February, 1518, the king grants to Walter 
 Scott of Kirkurd, ancestor of the house of Buc- 
 cleuch, the lands of Abingtown, Pharehol 
 
 royal grants of his forfeited domains effectually 
 interested them in excluding his return. An 
 attempt on the east borders by 
 " the Percy and the Douglas, both 
 together," was equally unsuccessful. The earl, 
 grown old in exile, longed once more to see his 
 native country, and vowed, that, upon Saint 
 Magdalen's day, he would deposit 
 his offering on the high altar at 
 Lochmaben. — Accompanied by the banished 
 earl of Albany, with his usual ill fortune, he 
 entered Scotland.— The borderers assembled to 
 oppose him, and he suffered a final defeat at 
 
 A. D. 1457. 
 
 A. D. 1483. 
 
 and Glentonan craig, in Lanarkshire, Pro suo 
 jideli servitio nobis impenso et pro quod interfait 
 in conjlictu de Arkinholme in occisione et captione 
 nostrorum rebellium quondam Archibaldi et Hu- 
 gonis de Douglas olim cornitum Moravian et de 
 Ormond et aliorum rebellium nostrorum in eorum 
 comitivia existen : ibidem captorum et interfec- 
 toncm." Similar grants of land were made to 
 Finnart and Arran, the two branches of the 
 house of Hamilton ; to the chiefs of the Batti- 
 sons ; but above all, to the Earl of Angus, who 
 obtained from royal favour a donation of the 
 Lordship of Douglas, and many other lands, 
 now held by Lord Douglas, as his representa- 
 tive. There appears, however, to be some doubt, 
 whether, in this division, the Earl of Angus 
 received more than his natural right. Our his- 
 torians, indeed, say, that William I. Earl of 
 Douglas, had three sons; 1. James, the 2d. 
 Earl, who died in the field of Otterburn; 2. 
 Archibald the Grim, 3d. Earl; and 3. George, 
 in right of his mother, Earl of Angus. Whe- 
 ther, however, this Archibald was actually the 
 son of William seems very doubtful ; and Sir 
 David Dalrymple has strenuously maintained 
 the contrary. Now, if Archibald the Grim 
 intruded into the earldom of Douglas, without 
 being a son of that family, it follows that the 
 house of Angus, being kept out of their just 
 rights for more than a century, were only 
 restored to them after the battle of Arkinholme. 
 1 1 Perhaps this may help to account for the eager 
 j interest taken by the Earl of Angus against his 
 'I kinsman.— Remarks on History of Scotland, 
 ^Edinburgh, 1773, p. 121. 
 
BOEDER BALLADS. 307 
 
 Burnswark, in Dumfriesshire. The aged earl^ft border counties arrayed against their sovereign, 
 was taken in the fight, by a son of Kirkpatriek | under the banners of his own son. The king 
 of Closeburn, one of his own vassals. A grant I was supported by almost all the barons of the 
 of lands had been offered for his person: "Carry | north; but the tumultuous ranks of the Eigh- 
 me to the king ! " said Douglas to Kirkpatriek: 1 1 landers were ill able to endure the steady and 
 "thou art well entitled to profit bymymisfor- j| rapid charge of the men of Annandale and Lid- 
 tune ; for thou wast true to me while I was disdale.who bear spears two ells longer than were 
 true to myself " The young man wept bitterly, I used by the rest of their countrymen. The yells 
 and offered to fly with the earl into England, j with which they accompanied their onset, 
 
 But Douglas, weary of exile, refused his proffered 
 liberty, and only requested, that Kirkpatriek 
 would not deliver him to the king, till he had 
 secured his own reward.^ Kirkpatriek did more : 
 he stipulated for the personal safety of his old 
 master. His generous intercession prevailed; 
 and the last of the Douglasses was permitted to 
 die, in monastic seclusion, in the abbey of Lin- 
 doses. 
 
 After the fall of the house of Douglas, no one 
 chieftain appears to have enjoyed the same 
 extensive supremacy over the Scottish borders. 
 The various barons, who had partaken of the 
 spoil, combined in resisting a succession of 
 uncontrolled domination. The earl of Angus 
 alone seems to have taken rapid steps in the 
 same course of ambition, which had been pur- 
 sued by his kinsmen and rivals, the earls of 
 Douglas. Archibald, sixth earl of Angus, called 
 Bell-the-Cat, was, at once, warden of the east 
 and middle marches, Lord of Liddisdale, and 
 Jedwood forest, and possessed of the strong 
 castles of Douglas, Hermitage, and Tantallon. 
 Highly esteemed by the ancient nobility, a 
 faction which he headed shook the throne of the 
 feeble James III., whose person they restrained, 
 and whose minions they led to an ignominious 
 death. The king failed not to show his sense of 
 these insults, though u n able effectually to avenge 
 them. This hastened his fate : and the field of 
 Banncckburn, once the scene of a more glorious 
 conflict, beheld the combined chieftains of the 
 
 - A grant of the king, dated 2d. October, 
 1484, bestowed upon Kirkpatriek, for this ac- 
 ceptable service, the lands of Kirkmichael 
 
 i caused the heart of James to quail within him. 
 j He deserted his host, and fled to- 
 wards Stirhng; but, falling from 
 | his horse, he was murdered by the pursuers. 
 
 James IV., a monarch of a vigorous and 
 ! energetic character, was well aware of the dan- 
 : ger which his ancestors had experienced, from 
 ! the preponderance of one overgrown family. He 
 | is supposed to have smiled internally, when the 
 I border and highland champions bled and died 
 I in the savage sports of chivalry, by which his nup- 
 tials were solemnized. Upon the waxing power 
 ! ofAngushekeptawaryeye; and, embracing the 
 i occasion of a casual slaughter, he compelled that 
 ! earl and his son to exchange the lordship of Lid- 
 disdale, and the castle of Hermitage, for the 
 castle and lordship of Bothwell. i By this policy, 
 
 £ Spens of Kilspindie, a renowned cavalier, 
 had been present in court, when the Earl of 
 Angus was highly praised for strength and 
 valour. " It may be," answered Spens, "if all 
 be good that is upcome," insinuating, that the 
 courage of the earl might not answer the pro- 
 mise of his person. Shortly after, Angus, while 
 hawking near Borthwick, with a single atten- 
 dant, met Kilspindie. " What reason had ye," 
 said the earl, "for making question of my man- 
 hood ? thou art a tall fellow, and so am I ; and 
 by St. Bride of Douglas, one of us shall pay for 
 it!" — "Since it may be no better," answered 
 Ki'spindie, '"' I will defend myself against the 
 best earl in Scotland '• With these words they 
 encountered fiercely, t : ll Angus, with one blow, 
 ! severed the thigh of his antagonist, who died 
 .j upon the spot. The earl then addressed the 
 ; attendant of Kilspindie: "Go thy way: tell 
 I my gossip, the king, that here was nothing but 
 wfair play. I know my gossip will be offended; 
 
BOEDER BALLADS. 
 
 A. D. 1510. 
 
 he prevented the house of Angus, mighty as it 
 was, from rising to the height, whence the elder 
 branch of their family had been hurled. 
 
 Nor did James fail in affording his subjects on 
 the marches marks of his royal justice and pro- 
 tection. The clan of Turnbull 
 having been guilty of unbounded 
 excesses, the king came suddenly to Jedburgh, by 
 a night march, and executed the most rigid 
 justice upon the astonished offenders. Their 
 submission was made with singular solemnity. 
 Two hundred of the tribe met the. king, at the 
 water of Eule, holding in their hands the naked 
 swords, with which they had perpetrated their 
 crimes, and having each around his neck the 
 halter which he had well merited. A few were 
 capitally punished, many imprisoned, and the 
 rest dismissed, after they had given hostages for 
 their future peaceable demeanour. — Holinshed's 
 Chionicle, Lesly. 
 
 The hopes of Scotland, excited by the prudent 
 and spirited conduct of James, were doomed to 
 a sadden and fatal reverse. Why should we 
 recapitulate the painful tale of the defeat and 
 death of a high-spirited prince? Prudence, 
 policy, the prodigies of superstition, and the 
 advice of his most experienced counsellors, were 
 alike unable to subdue in James the blazing zeal 
 of romantic chivalry. The monarch, and the 
 flower of his nobles, precipitately rushed to the 
 fatal field of Flcdden, whence they 
 were never to return. 
 The minority of James V. presents a melan- 
 choly scene. Scotland, through all its extent, 
 
 A. D. 1513. 
 
 but I will get me into Liddisdale, and remain in 
 my castle of the Hermitage till his anger be 
 abated." — Godscroft, vol. ii. p. 59. The price of 
 the earl's pardon seems to have been the ex- 
 change mentioned in the text. Bothwell is now 
 the residence of Lord Douglas. The sword with 
 which Archibald, Bell-the-cat, slew Spens, was, 
 by his descendant, the famous Karl of Morton, 
 presented to Lord Lindsay of the Byres, when 
 about to engage in single combat with Both- 
 well, at Carberry-hill.— Godscroft, vol. ii. p. 175. \# 
 
 felt the truth of the adage, " that the country is 
 hapless, whose prince is a child." But the bor- 
 der counties, exposed from their situation to 
 the incursions of the English, deprived of many 
 of their most gallant chiefs, and harassed by the 
 intestine struggles of the survivors, were re- 
 duced to a wilderness, inhabited only by the 
 beasts of the field, and by a few more brutal war- 
 riors. Lord Home, the chamberlain and 
 favourite of James IV., leagued with the Earl 
 of Angus, who married the widow of his sove- 
 reign, held, for a time, the chief sway upon the 
 east border. Albany, the regent of the kingdom, 
 bred in the French court, and more accustomed 
 to wield the pen than the sword, feebly endea- 
 voured to control a lawless nobility, to whom 
 his manners appeared strange, and his person 
 despicable. It was in vain that he 
 inveigled the Lord Home to Edin- 
 burgh, where he was tried and executed. Thi3 
 example of justice, or severity, only irritated the 
 kinsmen and followers of the deceased baron: 
 for though, in other respects, not more sanguin- 
 ary than the rest of a barbarous nation, the 
 borderers never dismissed from their memory a 
 deadly feud, till blood for blood had been exacted 
 to the uttermost drachm. f Of this, the fate of 
 Anthony d'Arcey, Seigneur de la Bastie, affords 
 a melancholy example. This gallant French 
 cavalier was appointed warden of the east mar- 
 ches by Albany, at his first disgraceful retreat to 
 France. Though De la Bastie was an able 
 statesman, and a true son of chivalry, the choice 
 of the regent was nevertheless unhappy. The 
 new warden was a foreigner, placed in the office 
 
 A. D. 1516. 
 
 t The statute 1594, cap. 231, ascribes the dis- 
 orders on the border in a great measure to the 
 " counselles, directions, receipt, and partaking, 
 of chieftains principalles of the branches, and 
 househalders of the saides surnames, and clannes, 
 quhilkis bears quarrrel, and seeks revenge for 
 the least hurting or slauchter of ony ane of their 
 unhappy race, although it were ordour of justice, 
 or in rescuing and following of trew mens geares 
 stollen or reft." 
 
A. D. 1517. 
 
 BORDEK BALLADS. 30 g 
 
 of Lord Home, as the delegate of & The return of the regent was followed by the 
 
 the very man who had brought 
 that baron to the scaffold. A stratagem, con- 
 trived by Home of "Wedderburn, who burned to 
 avenge the death of his chief, drew De la Bastie 
 towards Langton in the llerse. Here he found 
 himself surrounded by his enemies. In attempt- 
 ing, by the speed of his horse, to gain the castle 
 of Dunbar, the warden plunged into a morass, 
 where he was overtaken, and cruelly butchered. 
 "Wedderburn himself cut off his head; and, in 
 savage triumph, knitted it to his saddle-bow by 
 the long flowing hair, which had been admired 
 by the dames of France.— Pitscottie, Edit. 172S, 
 p. 130. Pinkerton's History of Scotland, vol. ii. 
 p. 169.f 
 
 The earl of Arran, head of the house of Hamil- 
 ton, was appointed to succeed De la Bastie in 
 his perilous office. But the Douglasses, the 
 Homes, and the Kerrs, proved too strong for 
 him upon the border. He was routed by these 
 clans, at Kelso, and afterwards 
 in a sharp skirmish, fought betwixt 
 his faction and that of Angus, in the high-street 
 of the metropolis. i 
 
 A. D. 1520. 
 
 banishment of Angus, and by a desultory war- 
 fare with England, carried on with mutual in- 
 cursions. Two gallant armies, levied by Albany, 
 were dismissed without any exploit worthy 
 notice, while Surrey, at the head of ten thou- 
 sand cavalry, burned Jedburgh, and laid waste 
 all Tiviotdale. This general pays a splendid 
 tribute to the gallantry of the border chiefs. He 
 terms them, "the boldest men, 
 and the hottest, that ever I saw any 
 nation." § 
 
 A. D. 1523. 
 
 f This tragedy, or, perhaps, the preceding 
 execution of Lord Home, must have been the 
 subject of a song, the first two lines of which are 
 preserved in the Complaynt of Scotland ; 
 
 God sen' the Due hed bvddin in France, 
 And de la Bate had never eon-e hme. 
 
 P. 100. Edin. 1501. 
 
 clatter: "Ah! my lord!" retorted Douglas, 
 "your conscience sounds hollow." He then 
 expostulated with the secular leaders, and Sir 
 Patrick Hamilton, brother to Arran, was con- 
 vinced by his remonstrances; but Sir James, 
 the natural son of the earl, upbraided his uncle 
 with reluctance to fight. " False bastard ! " 
 answered Sir Patrick, "I will fight to-day where 
 thou darest not be seen." "With these words 
 they rushed tumultuously towards the high- 
 street, where Angus, with the prior of Colding- 
 hame, and the redoubted Wedderburn, waited 
 their assault, at the head of four-hundred spear- 
 men, the flower of the east marches, who, hav- 
 j ing broke down the gate of the Ketherbow, had 
 i arrived just in time to the earl's assistance. 
 : The advantage of the ground, and the disorder 
 j of the Hamiltons, soon gave the day to Angus. 
 | Sir Patrick Hamilton, and the master of Mont- 
 I gomery, were slain. Arran, and Sir James 
 Hamilton, escaped with difficulty; and with 
 i no less difficulty was the military prelate of 
 Glasgow rescued from the ferocious borderers, 
 by the generous interposition of Gawin Douglas. 
 J The skirmish was long remembered in Edin- 
 j burgh, by the name of" Cleanse the Causeway." 
 ! — Pinkerton's History, vol. ii. p. 181. — Pitscottie, 
 Edit. 1728, p. 120.— Life of Garvin Douglas, pre- 
 
 $ The particulars of this encounter are inter- 
 esting. The Hamiltons were the most numer- 
 ous party, drawn chiefly from the western coun- 
 ties. Their leaders met in the palace of Arch- 
 bishop Beaton, and resolved to apprehend . 1 
 Aneus, who was come to the city to attend the ' \ Jixed '° his v ' r S tL 
 
 convention of estates. Gawin Douglas, bishop ! | § Letter prom the earl of surret, to hexry 
 of Dunkeld, a near relation of Angus, in vain 
 endeavoured to mediate betwixt the factions. | 
 He appealed to Beaton, and invoked his assist- 
 
 vin. Giving an account of the storm 
 of jedburgh. Cott. MSS. Calig. B. III. 
 fol. 29. 
 
 ance to prevent bloodshed. "On my con- ■■ " Pleisith it your grace to be advertised, thai 
 science," answered the archbishop, "I cannot upon Fridaye, et x a clok at nyght, I retourtied 
 help what is to happen." As he laid his hand : to this towne and all the garnysons to theii 
 upon his breast, at this solemn declaration, the places assigned, the bushopricke men, my lorde 
 hauberk, concealed by his rocket, was heard to^ot' Westmoreland, and my lorde Dacre, in like- 
 
wise, evry man home with their companys, 
 without lo3sof any men, thanked be God, savin,' 
 viii or x slayne, and dyvers hurt, at skyrmyshis 
 and saults of the towne of Gedwurth, and the 
 fortereissis ; which towne is soo suerly brent, 
 that no garnysons ner none other shal bee 
 lodged there, unto the tyme it bee newe buylded ; 
 the brennyng whereof I comytted to twoo sure 
 men, Sir William Bulmer, and Thomas Tem- 
 peste. The towne was much bettir then I went 
 (j. e. ween'd) it had been, for there was twoo 
 tymys moo houses therein then in Berwicke, and 
 well buylded, with many honest and lair houses 
 therein, sufficiente to have lodged M horsemen 
 in garnyson, and six good towres therein ; which 
 towne and towres be clenely destroyed, brent, 
 and throwen downe. Undoubtedly there was 
 noo journey made into Scotland, in noo manys 
 day leving, with soo fewe a nombre, that is 
 recownted to be soo high an enterprice as this 
 bothe with theis contremen, and Scottishmen, 
 noi of truthe soo much hurte doon. But in th' 
 ende a great mysfortune ded fal, onely by foly, 
 that such ordere, as was commanded by me to 
 be kepte, was not observed, the manner whereof 
 hereaftir shall ensue. Bifore myn entre into 
 Scotland, I appointed sir William Bulmer and 
 sir William Evers to be marshallis of th' army; 
 sir William Bulmer for the vanguard, and sir 
 William Evers for the reregard. In the van- 
 guard I appointed my lorde of Westmoreland, 
 as chief, with all the bushopricke, sir William 
 Bulmer, sir William Evers, my lorde Dacre, 
 with all his company; and with me remayned 
 all the rest of the garnysons, and the Northum- 
 berland men. I was of counsaill with the mar- 
 shallis at th' ordering of our lodgingg, and our 
 campe was soo well envirowned with ordynance, 
 carts, and dikes, that hard it was to entre or 
 issue but at certain places appointed for that 
 purpos, and assigned the mooste commodious 
 place of the said campe for my lord Dacre com- 
 pany, next the water, and next my lord of 
 Westmoreland. And at suche tyme as my lord 
 Dacre came into the falde, I being at the sault 
 of th' abby, which contynued unto twoo houres 
 within nyght, my seid lord Dacre wolde in no- 
 wise bee contente to ly within the campe, whiche 
 was made right sure, but lodged himself with- 
 out, wherewith, at my returne, I was not con- 
 tente, but then it was too late to remove ; the ' 
 
 310 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 Disgraced and detested, Albany bade adieu to fy earl of Arran for some time swayed the king* 
 Scotland for ever. The queen-mother and the dom. But their power was despised on the bor- 
 
 next day I sente my seid lorde Dacre to a strong 
 hold, called Fernherst, the lord whereof was his 
 mortal enemy; and with hym, sir Arthur 
 Darcy, sir Marmaduke Constable, with viii c of 
 their men, one cortoute, and dyvers other good 
 peces of ordynance for the feld (the seid Fern- 
 herste stode marvelous strongly, within a grete 
 woode) ; the seid twoo knights with the most 
 part of their men, and Strickland, your grace 
 servaunte, with my Kendall men, went into the 
 woode on fote, with th' ordynance, where the 
 said Kendall men were so handled, that they 
 found hardy men, that went noo foote back for 
 theym ; the other two knightes were also soo 
 sharply assayled, that they were enforced to call 
 for moo of their men ; and yet could not bring 
 the ordynance to the fortress, unto the tyme my 
 lord Dacre, with part of his horsemen, lighted on 
 fote ; and marvelously hardly handled himself, 
 and fynally, with long skirmyshing, and moche 
 difficultie, gat forthe th' ordynance within the 
 howse and threwe down the same. At which 
 skyrmyshe, my seid lord Dacre, and his brother, 
 sir Cristofer, sir Arthure, and sir Marmaduke, 
 and many other gentilmen, did marvellously 
 hardly ; and found the best resistance that hath 
 been seen with my comyingto their parties, and 
 above xxxii Scottis sleyne, and not passing iiij 
 Englishmen, but above lx hurt. Aftir that, my 
 said lord retournyng to the camp, wold in no 
 wise bee lodged in the same, but where he lay 
 the furst nyght. And he being with me at 
 souper, about viij a clok, the horses of his com- 
 pany brak lowse, and sodenly ran out of his feld, 
 in such nombre, that it caused a marvellouse 
 alarome in our feld ; and our standing watche 
 being set, the horses cam ronnyng along the 
 campe, at whom were shot above one hundred 
 shief of arrowes, and dyvers gonnys, thinking 
 they had been Scots, that wold have saulted the 
 campe ; fynally, the horses were so madde, that 
 they ran like wild dere into the feld ; above xv c 
 at the least, in dyvere companys, and, in one 
 place, above 1 felle downe a grete rok, and slewe 
 theymself, and above ij c ran into the towne 
 being on fire, and by the women taken, and 
 carried awaye right evill brent, and many were 
 taken agayne. But, finally, by that I ean 
 esteme by the nombre of theym that I saw goo 
 on foote the next daye, I think there is lost 
 above viij c horses, and all with foly for lak of 
 
BOEDER BALLADS. 
 
 311 
 
 ders, where Angus, though banished, had many 
 friends. Scott of Buccleuch even appropriated 
 to himself domains belonging to the queen, 
 worth 400 merks yearly; being probably the 
 castle of Newark, and her jointure lands in 
 Ettrick forest, f— This chief, with Kerr of Cess- 
 ford, was committed to ward, from which they 
 escaped, to join the party of the 
 exiled Angus. Leagued with these 
 and other border chiefs, Angus effected his re- 
 turn to Scotland, where he shortly after acquired 
 possession of the supreme power, and of the 
 person of the youthful king. "The ancient 
 
 A. D. 1525. 
 
 not lying within the camp. I dare not write 
 the wondres that my lord Dacre, and all his 
 company, doo saye they sawe that nyght, vj 
 tyms of spirits end fereful sights. And unyver- 
 sally all their company saye playnly, the devil 
 was that nyght among theym vi tymys ; which 
 mysfortune hath blemyshed the best journey 
 that was made in Scotland many yeres. 1 
 assure your grace I found the Scottes, at this 
 tyme, the boldest men, and the hotest, that ever 
 I sawe any nation, and all the journey, upon all 
 parts of th' armye, kepte us with soo contynuall 
 skyimyshe, that I never saw the like. If they 
 might assemble xl M as good men as I nowe 
 save, xv c or ij M, it would bee a hard encoun- 
 tre to mete theym. Pitie it is of my lord 
 Dacres losse of the horses of his company: he 
 brought with hym above iiij M. men, and came 
 and lodged one night in Scotland, in his moost 
 mortal enemy's contre. There is noo herdyer, 
 ner bettir knyght, but often tyme he doth not 
 use the most sure order, which he hath nowe 
 payd derely for. "Written at Berwike the xxvij 
 of September. 
 
 Your most bownden, 
 
 T. SURREY. 
 t In a letter to the Duke of Norfolk, October 
 3524, Queen Margaret says, " Sen that the Lard 
 of Sessford and the Lard of Baclw vas put in the 
 castell of Edinbrouh, the Erl of Lenness hath ! 
 past hyz vay vythout lycyens, and in despyt; and | 
 thynkyth to make the brek that he may, and to J 
 solyst other lordis to tak hyz part ; for the said 
 laird of Bavklw vas hyz man, and dyd the gretyst 
 ewelyz that myght be dwn.and twk partplaynly 
 vyth theffyz as is well known." — Cet. MSS. 
 Calig. B. I. 
 
 $ power of the Douglasses," says the accurate his- 
 torian, whom I have so often referred to, " seem- 
 ed to have revived; and, after a slumber of near 
 a century, again to threaten destruction to 
 the Scottish monarchy."— Pinkerton, vol. ii. p. 
 277. 
 
 In fact, the time now returned, when no one 
 durst strive with a Douglas, or with his fol- 
 lower. For, although Angus used the outward 
 pageant of conducting the king around the 
 country, for punishing thieves and traitors, 
 " yet," says Pitscottie, " none were found greater 
 than were in his own company." The high 
 spirit of the young king was galled by the igno- 
 minious restraint under which he found him- 
 self ; and, in a progress to the border, for re- 
 pressing the Armstrongs, he probably gave such 
 signs of dissatisfaction, as excited the laird of 
 Buccleuch to attempt his rescue. 
 
 This powerful baron was the 
 chief of a hardy clan, inhabiting 
 Ettrick forest, Eskdale, Ewsdale, the higher 
 part of Tiviotdale, and a portion of Liddesdale. 
 In this warlike district he easily levied a thou- 
 sand horse, comprehending a large body of 
 Elliots, Armstrongs, and other broken clans, 
 over whom the laird of Buccleuch exercised an 
 extensive authority; being termed, by Lord 
 Dacre, "chief maintainer of all misguided men 
 on the borders of Scotland." — Letter to Wolsey, 
 July 18, 1528. The earl of Angus, with his 
 reluctant ward, had slept at Melrose ; and the 
 clans of Home and Kerr, under the Lord Home, 
 and the barons of Cessford and Eairnihirst, had 
 taken their leave of the king, when, in the grey 
 of the morning, Buccleuch and his band of 
 cavalry were discovered, hanging, like a thun- 
 der-cloud, upon the neighbouring hill of Hali- 
 den.^: A herald was sent to demand his pur- 
 
 $ Near Darnick. By a corruption from Skir- 
 mish field, the spot is still called the Skinners- 
 field. Two lines of an old ballad on the subject 
 are still preserved: — 
 
 " There were sick belts and blows, 
 The Mattous burn ran blood." 
 
312 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 pose, and to charge him to retire. To the first , 
 point he answered, that he came to show his 
 clan to the king, according to the custom of the 
 borders ; to the second, that he knew the king's 
 mind better than Angus.— "When this haughty 
 answer was reported to the earl, " Sir," said he 
 to the king, "yonder is Buccleuch, with the 
 thieves of Annandale and Liddesdale, to bar 
 your grace's passage. I vow to God they shall 
 either fight or flee. Your grace shall tarry on 
 this hillock with my brother George; and I will 
 either clear your road of yonder banditti, or die 
 in the attempt." The earl, with these words, 
 alighted, and hastened to the charge; while the 
 earl of Lennox (at whose instigation Buccleuch 
 made the attempt,) remained with the king, an 
 Inactive spectator. Buccleuch and his followers 
 Ukewise dismounted, and received the assailants 
 with a dreadful shout, and a shower of lances. 
 The encounter was fierce and obstinate; but 
 the Homes and Kerrs, returning at the noise of 
 battle, bore down and dispersed the left wing of 
 Buceleuch's little army. The hired banditti fled 
 on all sides ; but the chief himself, surrounded 
 by his clan, fought desperately in the retreat. 
 The laird of Cessford, chief of the Roxburgh 
 Kerrs, pursued the chase fiercely; till, at the 
 bottom of a steep path, Elliot of Stobs, a fol- 
 lower of Buccleuch, turned, and slew him with 
 a stroke of his lance . "When Cessford fell, the 
 pursuit ceased. But his death, with those of 
 Buccleuch's friends, who fell in the action, to 
 the number of eighty, occasioned a deadly feud 
 betwixt the names of Scott and Kerr, which cost 
 much blood upon the marches.! — See Pitscottie, 
 Lesly, and Godscroft. 
 
 f Iluccleuch contrived to escape forfeiture, a 
 doom pronounced against those nobles, who 
 assisted the earl of Lennox in a subsequent 
 attempt to deliver the king, by force of arms. 
 " The laird of Bukcleugh has a respecte, and is 
 not forfeited ; and will get his pece, and was in 
 Lethquo, both Sondaye. Mondaye, and Tewis- 
 day last, which is grete displeasure to the 
 Carres." — Letter from Sir C. Dacre to Lord 
 Dacre, 2d December, 1526 
 
 Stratagem at length effected 
 what force had been unable to ac- * ' 
 complish; and the king, emancipated from the 
 iron tutelage of Angus, made the first use of his 
 authority, by banishing from the kingdom his 
 late lieutenant, and the whole race of Douglas. 
 This command was not enforced without diffi- 
 culty; for the power of Angus was strongly 
 rooted in the east border, where he possessed 
 the castle of Tantallon, and the hearts of the 
 Homes and Kerrs. The former, whose strength 
 was proverbial, £ defied a royal army; and the 
 latter, at the Pass of Pease, baffled the earl of 
 Argyle's attempts to enter the Merse, as lieu- 
 tenant of his sovereign. On this occasion, the 
 borderers regarded with wonder and contempt 
 the barbarous array and rude equipage of their 
 northern countrymen. Godscroft has preserved 
 the beginning of a scoffing rhyme, made upon 
 this occasion : — 
 
 The Earl of Argyle is bound to ride 
 From the border of Edgebucklin brae;§ 
 
 And all his habergeons him beside, 
 Each man upon a sonk of strae. 
 
 They made their vow that they would slay— 
 
 ***** 
 
 Godscroft, v. ii. p. 104. Ed. 1743. 
 
 The pertinacious opposition of Angus to his 
 
 doom irritated to the extreme the fiery temper 
 
 of James, and he swore, in his wrath, that a 
 
 Douglas should never serve him ; an oath which 
 
 he ke;t in circumstances, under which the 
 
 spirit of chivalry, which he worshipped, || should 
 
 have taught him other feelings. 
 
 i " To ding down Tantallon, and make a 
 bridge to the Bass," was an adage expressive of 
 impossibility. The shattered ruins of this cele- 
 brated fortress still overhang a tremendous rock 
 on the coast of East Lothian. 
 
 § Edgebucklin, near Musselburgh. 
 
 (1 I allude to the affecting story of Douglas of 
 
 Kilspindie, uncle to the earl of Angus. This 
 
 | gentleman had bsen placed by Angus about the 
 
 7 kiDg's person, who, when a boy, loved himmuch 
 
While these transactions, by which the fate of 
 Scotland was influenced, were passing upon the 
 eastern border, the Lord Maxwell seems to have 
 exercised a most uncontrolled domination in 
 Dumfries-shire. Even the power of the earl of 
 Angus was exerted in vain against the banditti 
 of Liddesdale, protected and bucklered by this 
 mightychief. Repeated complaints are made by 
 the English residents, of the devastation occa- 
 sioned by the depredations of the Elliots, Scots, 
 and Armstrongs, connived at and encouraged by 
 Maxwell, Buccleuch, and Fairnihirst. At a 
 convention of border commissioners, it was 
 agreed that the king of England, in case the 
 excesses of the Liddesdale freebooters were not 
 duly redressed, should be at liberty to issue let- 
 
 BORDER BALLADS 
 ft 
 
 313 
 
 on account of his singular activity of body, and 
 was wont to call him his Graysteil, after a 
 champion of chivalry, in the romance of Sir 
 Bger and Sir Grime. He shared, however, the 
 fate of his chief, and, for many years, served in 
 France. Weary at length of exile, the aged 
 warrior, recollecting the king's personal attach- 
 ment to him, resolved to throw himself on his 
 clemency. As James returned from hunting in 
 the park at fctirling, he saw a person at a dis- 
 tance, and, turning to his nobles, exclaimed, 
 " Yonder is my Graysteil, Archibald of Kilspin- 
 die!" As he approached, Douglas threw him- 
 self on his knees, and implored permission to 
 lead an obseure life in his native land. But the 
 name of Douglas was an amulet, which steeled 
 the king's heart against the influence of com- 
 passion and juvenile recollection. He passed 
 the suppliant without an answer and rode 
 briskly up the steep hill towards the castle. 
 Kilspindie, though loaded with a hauberk under 
 his clothes, kept pace with the horse, in vain 
 endeavouring to catch a glance from the impla- 
 cable monarch. He sat down at the gate, weary 
 and exhausted, and asked for a draught of water. 
 Even this was refused by the royal attendants. 
 The king afterwards blamed their discourtesy : 
 but Kilspindie was obliged to return to France, 
 where he died of a broken heart ; the same dis- 
 ease which afterwards brought to the grave his i 
 unrelenting sovereign. Even the stern Henry j 
 VIII. blamed his nephew's conduct, quoting the I 
 generous saying, " A king's face should give 
 grace.'*— Godscrofl, vol. ii. p. 107. 
 
 A. D. 1529. 
 
 ters of reprisal to his injured subjects, granting 
 "power to invade the said inhabitants of Lid- 
 desdale, to their slaughters, burning, heirships, 
 robbing, reifing, despoiling, and destruction, 
 and so to continue the same at his grace's plea- 
 sure," till the attempts of the inhabitants were 
 fully atoned for. This impolite expedient, by 
 which the Scottish prince, unable to execute 
 justice on his turbulent subjects, committed to 
 a rival sovereign the Power of unlimited chas- 
 tisement, was a principal cause of the savage 
 state of the borders. For the inhabitants, find- 
 ing that the sword of revenge was substituted 
 for that of justice, were loosened from their 
 attachment to Scotland, and boldly threatened 
 to carry on their depredations, in spite of the 
 efforts of both kingdoms. 
 
 James "V., however, was not backward in 
 using more honourable expedients to quell the 
 banditti on the borders. The im- 
 prisonment of their chiefs, and a 
 noted expedition, in which many of the princi- 
 pal thieves were executed (see introduction to 
 the ballad, called Johnie Armstrong,) produced 
 such good effects, that, according to an ancient 
 picturesque history, " thereafter there was great 
 peace and rest a long time, where through the 
 king had great profit, for he had ten thousand 
 sheep going in the Ettrick forest, in keeping by 
 Andrew Bell, who made the king so good count 
 of them, as they had gone in the bounds of Fife." 
 Pitscottie, p. 153. 
 
 A breach with England interrupted the tran- 
 quillity of the borders. The earl 
 of Northumberland, a formidable 
 name to Scotland, ravaged the middle marches, 
 and burned Branxholm,theabode of Buccleuch, 
 the hereditary enemy of the Ei.gllsh name. 
 Buccleuch, with the barons of Cessford and 
 Fairnihirst, retaliated by a raid into England, 
 
 I where they acquired much spoil. „., 
 
 I On the east march, Fowbery was 
 I ' destroyed by the Scots, and Dunglass castle by 
 *$? D'Arcy, and the banished Angus. 
 
 A. D. 1533 
 
314 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 A short peace was quickly followed by another < 
 war which proved fatal to Scotland, and to her 
 king. In the battle of Haddenrig, the English, 
 and the exiled Douglasses, were defeated by the 
 lords Huntly and Home; but this was a tran- 
 sient gleam of success. Kelso was burned, and 
 the borders ravaged, by the duke 
 of Norfolk ; and finally, the rout 
 of Solway moss, in which ten thousand men, the 
 flower of the Scottish army, were dispersed and 
 defeated by a band of five hundred English ca- 
 valry, or rather by their own dissensions, broke 
 the proud heart of James; a death more pain- 
 ful a hundred -fold than wa3 met by his father in 
 the field of Flodden. 
 
 When the strength of the Scottish army had 
 sunk, without wounds, and without renown, the 
 principal chiefs were led captive into England. — 
 Among these was the lord Maxwell, who was 
 compelled* by the menaces of Henry, to swear 
 allegiance to the English monarch. There is 
 still in existence the spirited instrument of vin- 
 dication, by which he renounces his connection 
 •with England, and the honours and estates 
 which had been proffered him, as the price of 
 treason to his infant sovereign. From various 
 bonds of manrent, it appears that all the wes- 
 tern marches were swayed by this powerful 
 chieftain . With Maxwell, and the 
 other captives, returned to Scot- 
 land the banished earl of Angus, and his bro- 
 ther, Sir George Douglas, after a banishment of 
 fifteen years. This powerful family regained at 
 least a part of their influence upon the borders , 
 and, grateful to the kingdom which had afforded 
 them protection during their exile, became 
 chiefs of the English faction in Scotland, whose 
 object it was to urge a contract of marriage 
 betwixt the young queen and the heir apparent 
 of England. The impetuosity of Henry, the 
 ancient hatred betwixt the nations, and the 
 wavering temper of the governor, Arran, pre- 
 vented the success of the measure. The wrath 
 of the disappointed monarch discharged itself in 
 
 A. D. 1543. 
 
 £ a wide-wasting and furious invasion of the east 
 j marches, conducted by the earl of Hertford. 
 I Seton, Home, and Buccleuch, hanging on the 
 I mountains of Lammermoor, saw, with ineffec- 
 | tual regret, the fertile plains of Merse and Lo- 
 j thian, and the metropolis itself, reduced to a 
 j smoking desert. Hei tford had scarcely retreated 
 with the main army, when Evers and Latoun 
 laid waste the whole vale of Tiviot, with a fero- 
 city of devastation hitherto unheard of.f The 
 same " lion mode of wooing," being pursued 
 during the minority of Edward VI., totally 
 alienated the affection even of those Scots who 
 were most attached to the English interest. 
 The earl of Angus, in particular, united himself 
 to the governor, and gave the English a sharp 
 defeat at Ancram moor, a particu- 
 lar account of which action is sub- 
 joined to the ballad, entitled, " The Eve of St 
 John." Even the fatal defeat at Pinkey, which 
 at once renewed the carnage of Flodden, and 
 the disgrace of Solway, served to prejudice the 
 cause of the victors. The borders saw, with 
 dread and detestation, the ruinous fortress of 
 Roxburgh once more receive an English garri- 
 son, and the widow of Lord Home driven from 
 his baronial castle, to make room 
 for the "Southern Reivers." Many 
 of the barons made a reluctant submission to 
 Somerset; but those of the higher pait of tho 
 marches remained among their mountains, 
 meditating revenge. A similar incursion was 
 made on the west borders by Lord Wharton, 
 
 A. D. 1545. 
 
 A. D. 1547. 
 
 f In Hayne's State Papers, from p. 43 to p. 
 64, is an account of these destructive forays. 
 One list of the places burned and destroyed enu- 
 merates — 
 Monasteries and Freehouses, . . 7 
 
 Castles, towers, and piles, . .16 
 
 Market towns, .... 5 
 
 Tillages, .... .243 
 
 Mylnes, 13 
 
 Spytells and hospitals, . . 3 
 
 See also official accounts of these expeditions, in 
 Dalyell's Fragment*. 
 
BORDER BALLADS. 
 
 315 
 
 who, with five thousand men, ravaged and 
 overrun Annandale, Nithsdale, and Galloway, 
 compelling the inhabitants to receive the yoke 
 of England.f 
 
 The arrival of French auxiliaries, and of 
 French gold, rendered vain the splendid suc- 
 
 t Patten gives us a list of those east border 
 chiefs who did homage to the duke of Somerset, 
 on the 24th of September, 1547 ; namely, the 
 lairds of Cessforth, Fernyherst, Grenehead, 
 Hunthill, Hundely, Makerstone, Bymerside, 
 Bounjedworth, Ormeston, Mellestaines, "War- 
 mesay, Synton, Egerston, Merton, Mowe, Ry- 
 dell, Beamerside. Of gentlemen, he enumerates 
 George Tromboul, Jhon Haliburton, Robert Car, 
 Robert Car of Greyden, Adam Kirton, Andrew 
 Mether, Saunders Purvose of Erleston, Mark 
 Car of Littledean, George Car of Faldenside, 
 Alexander Mackdowal, Charles Rutherford, 
 Thomas Car of the Yere, Jhon Car of Meynthorn 
 (Nenthorn), "Walter Holiburton, Richard Han- 
 gansyde, Andrew Car, James Douglas of Cavers, 
 James Car of Mersington, George Hoppringle, 
 "William Ormeston of Emerden, John Grym- 
 slowe. — Patten, in Dalyell's Fragments, p. 87. 
 
 On the west border, the following barons and 
 clans submitted and gave pledges to Lord Whar- 
 ton, that they would serve the king of England, 
 with the number of followers annexed to their 
 names : — 
 
 Annkrdale. 
 Laird of Kirkmighel, . . . .222 
 
 Rose, 165 
 
 Hempsfield, . . . .163 
 
 Home Ends, . . . 162 
 
 Wamfrey, . . . .102 
 
 Dunwoddy, .... 44 
 
 Newby and Gratney, . . 122 
 
 Tinnel, (Tinwald), . . 102 
 
 Patrick Murray, 203 
 
 Christie Urwin, (Irving), of Coveshawe, 102 
 
 Cuthbert Urwen of Robbgill, ... 34 
 
 Urwens of Sennersack, . . 40 
 Wat TJrwen, ... .20 
 
 Jeffrey Urwen, 93 
 
 T. Johnston of Crackburn, ... 64 
 
 James Johnston of Coites, . . . 162 
 Johnstons of Cragiyland, . .37 
 
 Johnstons of Driesdell, . . 46 
 
 Johnstons of Malinshaw, ... 65 
 
 Gawen Johnston, .... 31 
 
 "Will Johnston, the laird's brother, . 110 
 
 cesses of the English. One by one, the fortresses 
 which they occupied were recovered by force, or 
 by stratagem; and the vindictive cruelty of 
 the Scottish borderers made dreadful retaliation 
 for the injuries they had sustained. An idea 
 may be conceived of this horrible warfare, from 
 
 Robin Johnston of Lochmaben, 
 
 Luird of Gillersbie, 
 
 Moffits, .... 
 
 Bells of Tostints, . 
 
 Bells of Tindills, 
 
 Sir John Lawson, 
 
 Town of Annan, 
 
 Rooms of Tordephe, 
 
 NlTHSDALE. 
 
 Mr. Maxwell and more, 
 Laird of Closeburn, . 
 
 - Cransfield, .... 
 Mr. Ed. Creighton, .... 
 Laird of Cowhill, .... 
 Maxwells of Brackenside, and vicar of Carla 
 verick 
 
 Annerdale and Galway. 
 Lord Carlisle, 
 
 30 
 
 24 
 142 
 222 
 32 
 33 
 32 
 
 1000 
 403 
 202 
 27 
 10 
 91 
 
 310 
 
 Annerdalk and Clidsdale. 
 Laird of Applegirth, .... 242 
 
 Liddesdale and Debateable Land. 
 
 Armstrongs, 300 
 
 Elwoods, (Elliots), .... 74 
 Nixons, 32 
 
 Gallowav. 
 
 Laird of Dawbaylie, 
 Orcherton, 
 Carlisle, 
 Loughenwar, 
 Tutor of Bo.nbie, 
 Abbot of Newabbey, 
 Town of Dumfries, 
 Town of Kircubrie, 
 
 41 
 111 
 206 
 
 45 
 140 
 141 
 201 
 
 TlVIDALE. 
 
 Laird of Drumlire, 
 
 Caruthers, .... 
 
 Trumbells, ..... 
 
 Eskdale 
 Battisons and Thomsons, . 
 
 Total, 7008 men under English 
 Nicolson, from Bell's MS. Introduction to His 
 si? tory of Cumberland, p. 65. 
 
316 SCOTTISH BALLADS, 
 
 the memoirs of Beauge, a French officer, serving & over him with their lances in rest, and wounded 
 
 A. D. 1549. 
 
 in Scotland. 
 
 The castle of Fairnihirst, situated about three 
 miles above Jedburgh, had been taken and gar- 
 risoned by the English. The commander and j 
 his followers are accused of such excesses of lust 
 and cruelty, " as would," says Beauge, "have 
 made to tremble the most savage Moor in ' 
 Africa." A band of Frenchmen, with the laird j 
 of Fairnihirst, and his borderers, 
 assaulted this fortress. The Eng- 
 lish archers showered their arrows down the 
 steep ascent leading to the castle, and from the 
 outer wall by which it was surrounded. A 
 vigorous escalade, however, gained the base 
 court, and the sharp fire of the French arque- 
 busiers drove the bowmen into the square keep, 
 or dungeon, of the fortress. Here the English 
 defended themselves, till a breach in the wall 
 was made by mining. Through this hole the 
 3ommandant creeped forth ; and, surrendering 
 himself to De la Mothe-rouge, implored protec- 
 tion from the vengeance of the borderers. But 
 a Scottish marchman, eyeing in the captive the 
 ravisher of his wife, approached him ere the 
 French officer could guess his intention, and, at 
 one blow, carried his head four paces from the 
 trunk. Above a hundred Scots rushed to wash 
 their hands in the blood of their oppressor, ban- 
 died about the severed head, and expressed their 
 joy in such shouts, as if they had stormed the 
 city of London. The prisoners, who fell into their 
 merciless hands, were put to death, after their 
 eyes had been torn out; the victors contending 
 who should display the greatest address in sever- 
 ing their legs and arms, before inflicting a mor- 
 tal wound. When their own prisoners were 
 slain, the Scottish, with an unextinguishable 
 thirst for blood, purchased those of the French ; 
 parting willingly with their very arras, in ex- 
 change for an English captive. " I myself," 
 says Beauge, with military sans-froid, "1 my- 
 self sold them a prisoner for a small horse. 
 
 him as they passed. "When slain, they cut his 
 body in pieces, and bore the mangled gobbets, 
 in triumph, on the points of their spears. I can- 
 not greatly praise the Scottish for this practice. 
 But the truth is, that the English tyrannized 
 over the borders in a most barbarous manner; 
 and I think it was but fair to repay them, 
 according to the proverb, in their own coin." — 
 Campagnes de Beauge- 
 
 A peace, in 1551, put an end to this war ; the 
 most destructive which, for a length of time, 
 had ravaged Scotland. Some attention was 
 paid by the governor and queen -mother, to the 
 administration of justice on the border; and 
 the chieftains, who had distinguished themselves 
 during the late troubles, received the honour of 
 knighthood, f 
 
 At this time, also, the DebateableLand, a trac 
 of country, situated betwixt the 
 Esk and Sarke, claimed by both 
 kingdoms, was divided by royal commissioners, 
 appointed by the two crowns. — By their award, 
 this land of contention was separated by a line, 
 drawn from east to west, betwixt the rivers. 
 The upper half was adjudged to Scotland, and 
 the more eastern part to England. Yet the 
 Bebateable Land continued long after to be the 
 residence of the thieves and banditti, to whom 
 its dubious state had afforded a desirable refuge, t 
 
 In 1557, a new war broke out, in which ren- 
 counters on the borders were, as usual, numer- 
 
 A. D. 1522. 
 
 f These were the lairds of Buccleuch, Cessford, 
 and Fairnihirst, Littleden, Grenehed, and Cold- 
 ingknows. Buccleuch, whose gallant exploits 
 we have noticed, did not long enjoy his new hon- 
 ours. He was murdered, in the streets of Edin- 
 burgh, by his hereditary enemies, the Kerrs, 
 anno 1552. 
 
 ± The jest of James VI. is well known, who, 
 
 when a favourite cow had found her way from 
 
 London, back to her native country of Fife, 
 
 observed, "that nothing surprised him so much 
 
 | as her passing uninterrupted through the De- 
 
 They laid him down upon the ground, galloped iffi bateable Land i " 
 
BORDER BALLADS. 
 
 317 
 
 ons, and with varied success. In some of these, 
 the too famous Bothwell is said to have given 
 proofs of his courage, which was at other times 
 very questionable.f About this time the Scot- 
 tish borderers seem to have acquired some 
 ascendency over their southern neighbours. — 
 Strype, vol. iii. p. 437.— In 1559, peace was again 
 restored. 
 
 The flame of reformation, long stifled in Scot- 
 land, now burst forth, with the violence of a 
 volcanic eruption. The siege of Leith was com- 
 menced, by the combined forces of the Congre- 
 gation and of England. The borderers cared 
 little about speculative points of religion ; but 
 they showed themselves much interested in the 
 treasures which passed through their coun- 
 try, for payment of the English forces at Edin- 
 burgh. Much alarm was excited, lest the march- 
 ers should intercept these weighty Protestant 
 arguments; and it was, probably, by volun- 
 tarily imparting a share in them to Lord Home, 
 that he became a sudden convert to the new 
 faith.* 
 
 Upon the arrival of the ill-fated Mary in her 
 native country, she found the borders in a state 
 
 f He was l° ra °f Liddesdale, and keeper of the 
 Hermitage castle. But he had little effective 
 power over that country, and was twice defeated 
 by the Armstrongs, its lawless inhabitants. — 
 Border History, p. 584. Yet the unfortunate 
 Mary, in her famous Apology, says, "that in 
 the weiris against Ingland, he gaif proof of his 
 valyentes, courage, and gude conduct;" and 
 praises him especially for subjugating "the 
 rebellious subjeetis inhabiting the cuntreis lying 
 ewest the marches of Ingland." — Keith, p. 388. 
 He appears actually to have defeated Sir Henry 
 Percy, in a skirmish, called the Raid of Halt- 
 wellswire. 
 
 i This nobleman had, shortly before, threa- 
 tened to spoil the English east march; "but," 
 says the duke of Norfolk, " we have provided 
 such sauce for him, that I think he will not 
 deal in such matter; but, if he do fire but one 
 hay-goff, he shall not go to Home again without 
 torch-light, and, peradventure, may find a lan- 
 thorn at his own house." 
 
 of great disorder. The exertions of her natural 
 brother (afterwards the famous regent Murray) 
 were necessary to restore some degree of tran- 
 quillity. He marched to Jedburgh, executed 
 twenty or thirty of the transgressors, burned 
 many houses, and brought a number of prison- 
 ers to Edinburgh. The chieftains of the princi- 
 pal clans were also obliged to grant pledges for 
 their future obedienc?. A noted convention 
 (for the particulars of which, see Border Lams, 
 p. 84,) adopted various regulations, which were 
 attended with great advantage to the marches.§ 
 
 The unhappy match betwixt Henry Darnley 
 and his sovereign led to new dissensions on the 
 borders. The Homes, Kerrs, and other east 
 marchers, hastened to support the queen, against 
 Murray, Chatelherault, and other nobles, whom 
 her marriage had offended. For the same pur 
 pose, the Johnstones, Jardines, and clans of 
 Annandale, entered into bonds of confederacy 
 But Liddesdale was under the influence of 
 England ; in so much, that Randolph, the Eng 
 lish minister, proposed to hire a band of Strap 
 ping Elliots, to find Home business at home, in 
 looking after his corn and cattle. — Keith, p. 265. 
 App. 133. 
 
 This storm was hardly overblown, when Both 
 well received the commission of lieutenant upon 
 the borders ; but, as void of parts as of princ: 
 pie, he could not even recover to the queen's 
 allegiance his own domains in Liddesdale. — 
 Keith, App. 165. The queen herself advanced to 
 the borders, to remedy this evil, and to hold 
 courts at Jedburgh. Bothwell was already in 
 Liddesdale, where he had been severely wounded, 
 in an attempt to seize John Elliot, of the Parke, 
 a desperate freebooter; and happy had it been 
 for Mary, had the dagger of the mosstrooper 
 struck more home. Bothwell, being transported 
 
 § The commissioners on the English side were, 
 the elder Lord Scroope of Bolton, Sir John Fos- 
 ter, Sir Thomas Gargrave, and Dr. Rookby. On 
 the Scottish side appeared, Sir John Maxwell of 
 Terreagles, and Sir John Bellenden. 
 
318 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 to his castle of Hermitage, the queen, upon hear- ^ 
 ing the tidings, hastened thither. A dangerous 
 morass, still called the Queen's Mire,\ is pointed 
 out by tradition as the spot where the lovely 
 Mary, and her white palfrey, were in danger of 
 perishing. The distance betwixt Hermitage and 
 Jedburgh, by the way of Hawick, is nearly 
 twenty-four English miles. The queen went 
 and returned the same day. Whether she 
 visited a wounded subject, or a lover in danger, 
 has been warmly disputed in our latter days. 
 
 To the death of Henry Darnley, it is said, some 
 of the border lords were privy. But the subse- 
 quent marriage betwixt the queen and Both- 
 well, alienated from her the affections of the 
 chieftains of the marches, most of whom aided 
 the association of the insurgent barons. A few 
 gentlemen of the Merse, however, joined the 
 army which Mary brought to Carberry-hill. But 
 no one was willing to fight for the detested 
 Bothwell, nor did Bothwell himself show any 
 inclination to put his person in jeopardy. The 
 result to Mary was a rigorous captivity in Loch- 
 leven castle ; and the name of Bothwell scarcely 
 again pollutes the page of Scottish history. 
 
 The distress of a beautiful and afflicted prin- 
 cess softened the hearts of her subjects; and,when 
 she escaped from her severe captivity, the most 
 powerful barons in Scotland crowded around 
 her standard. Among these were many of the 
 west border men, under the lords Maxwell and 
 
 -f The Queen's Mire is still a pass of danger, 
 exhibiting in many places the bones of the 
 horses which have been entangled in it. For 
 what reason the queen chose to enter Liddes- 
 dale by the circuitous route of Hawick, does not 
 appear. There are two other passes from Jed- 
 burgh to Hermitage castle ; the one by the Note 
 of the Gate, the other over the mountain called 
 "Winburgh. Either of these, but especially the 
 latter, is several miles shorter than that by Ha- 
 wick and the Queen's Mire. But, by the cir- 
 cuitous way of Hawick, the queen could traverse 
 the districts of more friendly clans, than by go- 
 ing directly into the disorderly province of Lid- 
 desdale. 
 
 Herries.l But the defeat at Langside was a 
 death-blow to her interest in Scotland. 
 
 Not long afterwards occurred that period of 
 general confusion on the borders, when tho in- 
 surrection of the Catholic earls of Northum- 
 berland and Westmoreland took place upon the 
 borders of England. Their tumultuary forces 
 were soon dispersed, and the earls themselves, 
 with their principal followers, sought refuge 
 upon the Scottish marches. Northumberland 
 was betrayed into the hands of the regent ; but 
 Westmoreland, with his followers, took refuge 
 in the castle of Farnihirst, where he was pro- 
 tected by its powerful owner. The regent him- 
 self came to Jedburgh, to obtain possession of 
 these important pledges; but as he marched 
 towards the castle of Farnihirst, his men shrunk 
 from him by degrees, till he was left with a 
 small body of his own personal dependants, in- 
 adequate to the task for which he had undertaken 
 the expedition. Westmoreland afterwards es- 
 caped to Flanders by sea. Robert Constable, a 
 spy sent by Sir Ralph Sadler into Scotland, gives 
 a lively account of the state of the borders at 
 this time.§ 
 
 ± The followers of these barons are said to have 
 stolen the horses of their friends, while they 
 were engaged in the battle. 
 
 § He was guided by one Pyle of Millheuch, 
 (upon Oxnam water,) and gives the following 
 account of his conversation with him on the 
 state of the country, and the power of his mas- 
 ter, the baron of Farnihirst: — "By the way as 
 we rode, I tould my oste that the lord of Farne- 
 herst, his master, had taken such an enterprise 
 in band as not a subject in England durst do 
 the like, to kepe any mann openly as he did the 
 earle of Westmorland, against the will of the 
 chief in aucthoritie. He said that his master 
 cared not so much for the regent as the regent 
 eared for him, for he was well able to raise iij 
 thousand men within his own rule, beside that 
 his first wief, by whom he hed goodly children, 
 was daughter to the lord Grange, captaine of 
 Edenborowe castell, and provost of Edenborowe. 
 This wief that he married lately is sister to the 
 lord of Bucclewghe, a man of greater power tben 
 his master ; also my lord Hume, and almost all 
 
BORDER BALLADS. 
 
 310 
 
 The death of the regent Murray, in 1569, i 
 excited the party of Mary to hope and to exer- 
 tion. It seems, that the design of Bothwell- 
 haugh, who slew him, was well known upon the 
 borders ; for, the very day on which the slaugh- 
 ter happened, Buccleuch and Faimihirst, with 
 their clans, broke into England, and spread 
 devastation along the frontiers, with unusual 
 ferocity. It is probable they well knew that 
 the controlling hand of the regent was that day 
 palsied by death. Buchanan exclaims loudly 
 against this breach of truce with Elizabeth,charg- 
 ing queen Mary's party with having " houndit 
 furth proude and uncircumspecte young men, 
 to hery, bume, and slay, and tak prisoners, in 
 her realme, and use all misordour and crueltie, 
 not only usit in weir, but detestabil to all barbar 
 and wild Tartaris, in slaying of prisoneris, and 
 contrair to all humanitie and justice, keeping na 
 promeis to miserabil captives resavit anis to 
 thair mercy." — Admonitioun to the trerv Lordis, 
 Siriveling, 1571. He numbers, among these 
 insurgents, highlanders as well as borderers, 
 Buccleuch and Faimihirst, the Johnstons and 
 Armstrongs, the Grants, and the clan Chattan. 
 
 the gentlemen in Tevydale, the Marsh, and 
 Iiowdyan, were knitt together in such friend- 
 ship that they are agreed all to take one part ; 
 and that the lord Grange was offended with the 
 lord Hume and the lord Farneherst, because 
 they toke not the earle of Northumberland from 
 my lord regent at Gedworthe, and sent plane 
 word to the lord Farneherst, that if the lord 
 regent came any more to seeke him in Tevydale, 
 he should lose all his bulles, both the duke, the 
 lord Herris, the secretary, and others, he should 
 sett them all at libertye that would come with 
 all their power, with good will, to take his part; 
 and by as much as I hear since, the Tevydale 
 menn pretends to do the anoyances that they 
 can to England, so sone as this storme is past, 
 and meanes not to answer to any day of truce." 
 Another passage presents a lively picture of 
 the inside of the outlaw's cabin— "I left Farne- 
 herst, and went to my ostes house, where I 
 found many gests of dyvers factions, some out- 
 la wes of Ingland, some of Scotland, some neigh- 
 
 Besides these powerful clans Mary numbered 
 among her adherents the Maxwells, and almost 
 all the west border leaders, excepting Drum- 
 lanrig, and Jardine of Applegirth. On the 
 eastern border, the faction of the infant king 
 was more powerful ; for, although deserted by 
 lord Home, the greater part of his clan, under 
 the influence of Wedderburn, remained attached 
 to that party. The laird of Cessford wished 
 them well, and the earl of Angus naturally fol- 
 lowed the steps of his uncle Morton. A sharp 
 and bloody invasion of the middle march, under 
 the command of the earl of Sussex, avenged 
 with interest the raids of Buccleuch and Faimi- 
 hirst. The domains of these chiefs were laid 
 waste, their castles burned and destroyed. The 
 narrow vales of Beaumont and Kale, belonging 
 to Buccleuch, were treated with peculiar seve- 
 rity ; and the forays of Hertford were equalled 
 by that of Sussex. In vain did the chiefs request 
 assistance from the government to defend their 
 fortresses. Through the predominating interest 
 of Elizabeth in the Scottish councils, this was 
 I refused to all but Home, whose castle, neverthe- 
 less, again received an English garrison ; while 
 
 bors therabout, at cards ; some for ale, some for 
 plake and hardhedds; and after that I had 
 diligently learned and enquired that there was 
 none of any surname that had me in deadly 
 fude, nor none that knew me, 1 sat dovvne, and 
 plaid for harhedds emongs them, where I hard, 
 vox populi, that the lord regent would not, for 
 his own honor, nor for thonor of his countery, 
 deliver the earles, if he had them botbe, unlest 
 it were to have there quene delivered to him, 
 and if he wold agre to make that change, the 
 borderers wold stert up in his contrary, and 
 reave both the quene and the lords from him, 
 for the like shame was never done in Scotland ; 
 and that he durst better eate his owne luggs then 
 come again to seke Farneherst; if he did, he 
 should be fought >vith ere he came over Sowtrey 
 edge. Hector of Tharlowes hedd was wished to 
 have been ea'en among us at supper.'' — Sad- 
 ler's State Papers, Edin. 1S09, vol. ii. pp. 384, 
 
320 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 Buccleuch and Fairnihirst complained bitterly & the main street, when the earl of Mar, issuing 
 
 that those, who had instigated their invasion, 
 durst not even come so far as Lauder, to show 
 countenance to their defence against the Eng- 
 lish. The bickerings, which followed, distracted 
 the whole kingdom. One celebrated exploit may 
 be selected, as an illustration of the border 
 fashion of war. 
 
 The earl of Lennox, who had succeeded Mur- 
 ray in the regency, held a parliament at Stir- 
 ling, in 1571. The young king was exhibited to 
 the great council of his nation. He had been 
 tutored to repeat a set speech, composed for the 
 occasion; but obseiving that the roof of the 
 building was a little decayed, he interrupted his 
 recitation, and exclaimed, with childish levity, 
 " that there was a hole in the parliament," — 
 words which, in these days, were held to pre- 
 sage the deadly breach shortly to be made in 
 that body, by the death of him in whose name 
 it was convoked. 
 
 Amid the most undisturbed security of con- 
 fidence, the lords, who composed this parlia- 
 ment, were roused at day- break by the shouts of 
 their enemies in the heart of the town. God 
 and the Queen! resounded from every quarter, 
 and, in a few minutes, the regent, with the 
 astonished nobles of his party, were prisoners to 
 a band of two hundred border cavalry, led by 
 Scott of Buccleuch, and to the Lord Claud 
 Hamilton, at the head of three hundred infan- 
 try. These enterprising chiefs, by a rapid and 
 well-concerted manoeuvre, had reached Stirling 
 in a night march from Edinburgh, and, without 
 so much as being bayed at by a watch-dog, had 
 seized the principal street of the town. The 
 fortunate obstinacy of Morton saved his party. 
 Stubborn and undaunted, he defended his house 
 till the assailants set it in flames, and then 
 yielded wth reluctance to his kinsman, Buc- 
 cleuch. But the time which he had gained 
 effectually served his cause. The borderers had 
 dispersed to plunder the stables of the nobility; 
 
 from the castle, placed one or two small pieces 
 of ordnance in his own half-huHt house, f which 
 commands the market place. Hardly had the 
 artillery begun to scour the street, when the 
 assailants, surprised in their turn, fletl with pre- 
 cipitation. Their alarm was increased by the 
 townsmen thronging to arms. Those who had 
 been so lately triumphant, were now, in many 
 instances, asking the protection of their own pri- 
 soners. In all probability, not a man would have 
 escaped death, or captivity, but for the charac- 
 teristic rapacity of Buccleuch's marauders, who, 
 having seized and carried off all the horses in 
 the town, left the victors no means of following 
 the chase. The regent was slain by an officer, 
 named Caulder, in order to prevent his being 
 rescued. Spens of Ormiston, to whom he had 
 surrendered, lost his life in a generous attempt 
 to protect him.:f Hardly does our history pre- 
 
 f This building still remains in the unfinished 
 .state which it then presented. 
 
 + Birrel says, that " the regent was shot by an 
 unhappy fellow, while sitting on horseback be- 
 hind the laiid of Buccleuch." — The following 
 curious account of the whole transaction, i3 
 extracted from a journal of principal events in 
 the years 1570, 1571, 1572, and part of 1573, kept 
 by Richard Bannatyne, amanuensis to John 
 Knox. " The fourt of September, they of Edin- 
 burgh, horsemen and futmen (and, as was 
 reported, the most part of Clidisdaiil, that per- 
 tenit to the Hamiltons), come to Striveling, the 
 number of iii or iiii c men, on hors bak, guydit 
 be ane George Bell, their hacbutteris being all 
 horsed, enterit in Striveling, be fyve houris in 
 the morning (whair thair was never one to mak 
 watche), crying this slogene, 'God and the 
 queen ! ane Hamiltoune ! think on the bishop of 
 St. Androis, all is owres;' and so a certaine 
 come to everie grit manis ludgane, and appre- 
 hendit the lordis Mortoun and Glencarne, but 
 Mortounis hous they set on fyre, wha randtrit 
 him to the loird of Balcleuch. Wurmestoun 
 being appointed to the regentes hous, desyred 
 him to cum furth, which he had no will to doe, 
 
 yet, be perswasione of Garleys and otheris, with 
 the infantry thronged tumultuously together on^ him, tho't it best to come in will, nor to byde 
 
BOKDEE BALLADS. 
 
 sent another enterprize, so well planned, so 
 happily commenced, and so strangely discon- 
 certed. To the licence of the marchmen the 
 failure was attributed; hut the same cause 
 ensured a safe retreat. — Spottiswoode, Godscrqfi, 
 Robertson, Melville. 
 
 The wily earl of Morton, who, after the short 
 intervening regency of Mar, succeeded to the 
 supreme authority, contrived, by force or arti- 
 fice, to render the party of the king every where 
 superior. Even on the middle borders, he had 
 the address to engage in his cause the powerful, 
 though savage and licentious, clans of Ruther- 
 ford and Turn bull, as well as the citizens of Jed- 
 burgh. He was thus enabled to counterpoise 
 his powerful opponents, Buccleuch and Eairni- 
 hirst, in their own country ; and, after an un- 
 successful attempt to surprise Jedburgh, even 
 these warm adherents of Alary relinquished her 
 cause in despair. 
 
 "While Mo: ton swayed the state, his attach- 
 ment to Elizabeh, and the humiliation which 
 many of the border chiefs had undergone, con- 
 tributed to maintain good order on the marches, 
 till James VI. himself assumed the reins of 
 government.— The intervening skirmish of the 
 
 the extremitie, becaus they supposed there was 
 no resistance, and swa the regent come furth, 
 and whs randered to "Wormestoune, under pro- 
 meis to save his lyfe. Captane Crawfurde, 
 being in the t >wn, gat sum men out of the 
 castell, and uther gentlemen being in the town, 
 come as they rav't test to the geat, chased them 
 out of the town The regent was shot by ane 
 Captain Cader, who confessed that he did it at 
 commande of George Bell, wha was comandit 
 so to dee be the lord Huntlie and Claud Hamil- 
 ton. Some sayis, that Wormestoun was schot 
 by the same schot that slew the regent, but 
 alwayia he was slane, notwithstanding the 
 regent cryed to save him, but it culd not be, the 
 furie was so grit of the perse wans, who following 
 sr> fast, the lord of Mortone said to Balcleuch, 
 ' I sail save you as you savit me,' and so he was 
 tane. Garleys, and sindrie otheris, war slane 
 at the port, in the persute of thame. Thair war 
 ten or twelve gentlemen slane of the king's folk, 
 
 321 
 
 £ Reldswire, (see the ballad under that title) was 
 but a sudden explosion of the rivalry and sup- 
 pressed hatred of the borderers of both king- 
 doms. In truth, the stem rule of Morton, and 
 of his delegates, men unconnected with the hor» 
 ders by birth, maintained in that country mora 
 strict discipline than had ever been there exer- 
 cised. Perhaps this hastened his fall. 
 
 The unpopularity of Morton, acquired partly 
 by the strict administration of justice, and partly 
 by avarice and severity, forced him from the 
 regency. In 1578, he reti:ed, apparently, from 
 state affeirs, to his castle of Dalkeith ; which the 
 populace, emphatically expressing their awe and 
 dread of his person, termed the Lion's Den. 
 But Morton c uld not live in retirement; and, 
 early in the same year, the aged lion again 
 rushed from his cavern. By a mixture of policy 
 and violence, he possessed himself of the fortress 
 of Stirling, and of the person of James. His 
 nephew, Angus, hastened to his assistance. 
 Against him appeared his follower Cessford, 
 with many of the Homes, and the citizens of 
 Edinburgh. Alluding to the restraint of the 
 I king's person, they bore his effigy on their ban- 
 ners, with a rude rhyme, demanding liberty or 
 
 and a!s mony of theiris, or mea, as was said, and 
 a dozen or xvi tane. Twa espeeiall servantis 
 of the lord Argyle's were slane also. This Cader, 
 ' that schot the regent, was once turned bak off 
 the toune, and was send again (as is said), be 
 the lord Huntlie, to cause "Wormistouu retire ; 
 but, before he come agane, he was dispatched, 
 and had gottin deidis woundis. 
 
 The regent being sehot (as said is), was brought 
 
 to the castel, whar he callit for ane phisitione, 
 
 one for his soule, ane uther for his bodie. But 
 
 all hope of life was past, for he was schot in his 
 
 entreallis; and swa, after sumthin-is spekin to 
 
 the lordis, which I know not, he departed in the 
 
 feare of God, and made a blessed end; whilfe 
 
 i the rest of the lordis, that tho't thame to his 
 
 | hiert, and lytle reguardit him, shall not mak so 
 
 ! hlised an end, unles they mend their maneirs." 
 
 I This curious manuscript has been lately pub- 
 
 ! lished, under the inspection of John Graham 
 
 } Dalyell, Esq. 
 
 
322 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 death.— Birrel't Diary, ad annum, 1578. The & 
 earl of Morton marched against his foes as far 
 as Falkirk, and a desperate action must have 
 ensued, but for the persuasion of Bowes, the 
 English ambassador. The only blood, then 
 spilt, was in a duel betwixt Tait, a follower of 
 Cessford, and Johnstone, a west border man, 
 attending upon Angus. They fought with 
 lances, and on horseback, according to the 
 fashion of the borders —The former was un- 
 horsed and slain, the latter desperately wounded. 
 — Godscrqft, vol. ii. p. 261. The prudence of the 
 late regent appears to have abandoned him, 
 when he was decoyed into a treaty upon this 
 occasion. It was not long before Morton, the 
 veteran warrior, and the crafty statesman, was 
 forced to bend his neck to an engine of death.f 
 the use of which he himself had introduced into 
 Scotland. 
 
 Released from the thraldom of Morton, the 
 •dng, with more than youthful levity, threw his 
 supreme power into the hands of Lennox and 
 Arran. The religion of the first, and the infa- 
 mous character of the second favourite, excited 
 the hatred of the commons, while their exclu- 
 sive and engrossing power awakened the jea- 
 lousy of the othtr nobles. James, doomed to 
 be the sport of contending factions, was seized at 
 Stirling by the nobles, confederated in what was 
 termed the Raid of Ruthven. But the conspira- 
 tors soon suffered their prize to escape, and were 
 rewarded for their enterprize by exile or death. 
 
 In 1585, an affray took place at a border meet- 
 ing, in which lord Russel, the earl of Bedford's 
 eldest son, chanced to be slain. Queen Eliza- 
 beth imputed the guilt of this slaughter to 
 Thomas Ker of Fairnihirst, instigated by Arran. 
 Upon the imperious demand of the English am- 
 bassador, both were committed to prison ; but 
 the minion, Arran, was soon restored to liberty 
 and favour; while Fairnihirst, the dread of the 
 
 f A rude sort of guillotine, called the maiden. 
 The implement is now in possession of the So- 
 ciety of Scottish Antiquaries. 
 
 English borderers, and the gallant defender of 
 queen Mary, died in his confinement, of a bro- 
 ken heart.— Spottiswoode, p. 341. 
 
 The tyranny of Arran becoming daily more in- 
 supportable, the exiled lords, joined by Maxwell, 
 Home, Bothwell, and other border chieftains, 
 seized the town of Stirling, which was pillaged 
 by their disorderly followers, invested the castle, 
 which surrendered at discretion, and drove the 
 favourite from the king's council. $ 
 
 The king, perceiving the earl of Bothwell 
 among the armed barons, to whom he surren- 
 dered his person, addressed him in these pro- 
 phetic words: — "Francis, Francis, what moved 
 thee to come in arms against thy prince, who 
 never wronged thee ? I wish thee a more quiet 
 spirit, else I foresee thy destruction." — Spottit- 
 woode, p. 343. 
 
 In fact, the extraordinary enterprizes of this 
 nobleman disturbed the next ten years of 
 James's reign. Francis Stuart, son to a bastard 
 of James "V., had been invested with the titles 
 and estates belonging to his maternal uncle, 
 James Hepburn, earl of Bothwell, upon the for- 
 feiture of that infamous man ; and consequently 
 became lord of Liddesdale, and of the castle of 
 Hermitage. — This acquisition of power upon the 
 borders, where he could easily levy followers 
 willing to undertake the most desperate enter- 
 prize, joined to the man's native daring and vio- 
 lent spirit, rendered Bothwell the most turbulent 
 insurgent that ever disturbed the tranquillity 
 of a kingdom. During the king's absence in 
 Denmark, B< thwell, swayed by the superstition 
 of his age, had tampered with certain sooth- 
 sayers and witches, by whose pretended art he 
 hoped to foretell, or perhaps to achieve, the 
 
 % The associated nobles seem to have owed 
 their success chiefly to the border spearmen ; 
 for, though they had a band of mercenaries, 
 who used fire-arms, yet they were such bad 
 masters of their- craft, their captain was heard 
 to observe, " that those, who knew his soldiers 
 as well as he did, would hardly chuse to march 
 before them."—Godscrqjt, v. ii. p. 368. 
 
BORDER BALLADS. 
 
 323 
 
 death of his monarch. In one of the courts of 
 inquisition, which James delighted to hold upon 
 the professors of the occult sciences, some of his 
 cousin's proceedings were brought to light, for 
 ■which he was put in ward in the castle of Edin- 
 burgh. Burning with revenge, he broke from 
 his confinement, and lurked for some time upon 
 the borders, where he hoped for the counten- 
 ance of his son-in-law, Buccleuch. Undeterred 
 by the absence of that chief, who, in obedience 
 to the royal command, had prudently retired to 
 France, Bothwell attempted the desperate en- I 
 terprize of seizing the person of the king, while 
 residing in his metropolis. At the dead of the 
 night, followed by a band of borderers, he occu- 
 pied the court of the palace of Holyrood, and 
 began to burst open the doors of the royal 
 avartments. The nobility, distrustful of each 
 other, and ignorant of the extent of the con- 
 spiracy, only endeavoured to make good the 
 defence of their separate lodgings ; but darkness 
 and confusion prevented the assailants from 
 profiting by their disunion. Melville, who was 
 present, gives a lively picture of the scene of dis- 
 order, transiently illuminated by the glare of 
 passing torches; while the report of fire-arms, 
 the clatter of armour, the din of hammers thun- 
 dering on the gates, mingled wildly with the 
 way-cry of the borderers, who shouted inces- 
 santly, " Justice ! Justice ! A Bothwell ! A Both- 
 well ! " The citizens of Edinburgh at length 
 began to assemble for the defence of their sove- 
 reign ; and Bothwell was compelled to retreat, 
 which he did without considerable loss. — Mel- 
 ville, p. 356. A similar attempt on the person 
 of James, while residing at Faulkland, also mis- 
 gave; but the credit which Bothwell obtained 
 on the borders, by these bold and desperate 
 enterprizes, was incredible. " All Tiviotdale," 
 says Spottiswoode, " ran after him ; " so that he 
 finally obtained his object; and, at Edinburgh, 
 in 1593, he stood before James, an unext ected 
 apparition, with his naked sword in his hand. 
 " Strike ! " said James, with royal dignity — 
 
 " Strike, and end thy work ! I will not survive 
 my dishonour." But Bothwell, with unex- 
 pected moderation, only stipulated for remission 
 of his forfeiture, and did not em > sist on 
 remaining at court, whence his party was shortly 
 expelled, by the return of the lord Home, and 
 his other enemies. Incensed at this reverse, 
 Bothwell levied a body of four hundred cavalry, 
 and attacked the king's guard in broad day, 
 upon the Borough Moor near Edinburgh. — The 
 ready succour of the citizens saved James from 
 j falling once more into the hands of his turbu- 
 lent subject.f On a subsequent day, Bothwell 
 met the laird of Cessford, riding near Edin- 
 burgh, with whom he fought a single combat, 
 which lasted for two hours. $ But his credit was 
 now fallen ; he retreated to England, whence 
 he was driven by Elizabeth, and then wandered 
 to Spain and Italy, where he subsisted, in indi- 
 gence and obscurity, on the bread which he 
 earned by apostatizing to the faith of Rome. 
 So fell this agitator of domestic broils, whose 
 name passed into a proverb, denoting a power- 
 ful and turbulent demagogue. § 
 
 f Spottiswoode says, the king awaited this 
 j charge with firmness ; but Birrel avers, that he 
 fled upon the gallop. The same author, instead 
 of the firm deportment of James, when seized 
 by Bothwell, describes "the king's majestie as 
 flying down the back stair, with his breeches in 
 his hand, in great fear." — Birrell, apud Dahjell, 
 p. 30. Such is the difference betwixt the narra- 
 tive of the courtly archbishop, and that of the 
 presbyterian burgess of Edinburgh. 
 
 ± This rencounter took place at Humbie, in 
 East Lothian. Bothwell was attended by a 
 servant, called Gibson, and Cessford by one if 
 the Rutherfords, who was hurt in the cheek. 
 The combatants parted from pure fatigue; for 
 the defensive armour of the times was so com- 
 pletely impenetrable, that the wearer seldom 
 sustained much damage by actual wounds. 
 
 § Sir Walter Raleigh, in wvitin ; of Essex, 
 then in prison, says, "Let the queen h<. Id lioth- 
 well while she hath hi.n." — Munlin, vol. ii. p. 
 812. It appears from Creichton's Memoirs, tha'' 
 Bothwell's grandson, though so nearly related 
 
324 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 While these scenes were passing in the metro- 
 polis, the borders were furiously agitated by civil 
 discord. The families of Cessford and Fairni- 
 hirst disputed their right to the wardenry of the 
 middle marches, and to the provostry of Jed- 
 burgh; and "William Kerr of Ancram, a fol- 
 lower of the latter, was murdered by the young 
 chief of Cessford, at the instigation of his mother. 
 Spoltisrvoocle, p. 383. But this was trifling, com- 
 pared to the civil war waged on the western 
 frontier, between the Johnstons and Maxwells, 
 of which there is a minute account in the intro- 
 duction to the ballad entitled " Maxwell's Good- 
 night." Prefixed to that termed " Kinmont 
 Willie," the reader will find an account of the 
 last warden raids performed upon the border. 
 
 My sketch of border history now draws to a 
 close. The accession of James to the English 
 crown converted the extremity into the centre of 
 his kingdom. 
 
 The east marches of Scotland were, at this mo- 
 mentous period, in a state of comparative civi- 
 lization. The rich soil of Berwickshire soon 
 invited the inhabitants to the arts of agriculture. 
 — Even in the days of Lesley, the nobles and 
 barons of the Merse differed in manners from 
 the other borderers, administered justice with 
 regularity, and abstained from plunder and 
 depredation. De Moribus Scotorutn, p. 7. But 
 on the middle and western marches, the inha- 
 bitants were unrestrained moss-troopers and 
 cattle-drivers, knowing no measure of law, says 
 Camden, but the length of their swords. The 
 sterility of the mountainous country, which they 
 inhabited, offered little encouragement to in- 
 dustry; and, for the long series of centuries 
 which we have hastily reviewed, the hands of 
 rapine were never there folded in inactivity, nor 
 the sword of violence returned to the scabbard. 
 Various proclamations were in vain issued, for 
 
 to the royal family, actually rode a private in the 
 Scottish horse guards, in the reign of Charles II. 
 —Edinburgh, 1731, p. 42. 
 
 interdicting the use of horses and arms upon 
 the west border of England and Scotland. f The 
 evil was fuund to require the radical cure of 
 extirpation. Buccleuch collected under his ban- 
 ners the most desperate of the border warriors, 
 of whom he formed a legion, for the service of 
 the states of Holland, who had as much reason 
 to rejoice on their arrival upon the continent, as 
 Britain to congiatulate herself upon their de- 
 parture. It may be presumed, that few of this 
 corps ever returned to their native country. The 
 clan of Gra?me,ahardy and ferocious 6et of free- 
 booters, inhabiting chiefly the Debateable Land, 
 by a very summary exertion of authority, was 
 transported to Ireland, and their return prohi- 
 bited under pain of death. Againstother offen- 
 ders, measures, equally arbitrary, were without 
 hesitation pursued. Numbers of border riders 
 were executed, without even the formality of a 
 trial ; and it is even said, that in mockery of 
 justice, assizes were held upon them after they 
 had suffered. For these acts of tyranny, gee 
 Johnston, p. 374, 414, 39, 93. The memory of 
 Dunbar's legal proceedings at Jedburgh, are 
 preserved in the proverbial phrase, Jeddart Jus- 
 tice, which signifies, trial after execution. £ By 
 
 f " Proclamation shall be made, that all inha- 
 biting with Tynedale and Eiddesdale, in Nor- 
 thumberland, Bevvcastledale, "VVillgavey, the 
 north part of Gilsland,Esk,and Leven, in Cum- 
 berland ; east and west Tividale, Liddesdale, 
 Eskdale, Ewsdale, and Annerdale, in Scotland 
 (saving noblemen and gentlemen unsuspected of 
 felony and theft, and not being of broken clans, 
 and their household servants, dwelling within 
 those several places before recited,) 6hall put 
 away all armour and weapons, as well offensive 
 as defensive, as jacks, spears, lances, swords, 
 daggers, and steel-caps, hack-buts, pistols, plate 
 sleeves, and such like; and shall not keep any 
 horse, gelding, or mare, above the value of fifty 
 shillings sterling, or thirty pounds .Scots, upon 
 the like pain of imprisonment." — Proceedings of 
 the Border Commissioners, 1505 — Introduction to 
 History of Cumberland, p. 127. 
 
 \ A similar proverb in England of the same 
 Interpretation is Lydford Law, derived from 
 
this rigour, though sternly and unconscien- 
 tious^ exercised, the border marauders were, in 
 the course of years, either reclaimed or exter- 
 minated : though nearly a century elapsed ere 
 their manners were altogether assimilated to 
 those of their countrymen, f 
 
 In these hasty sketches of border history, I have 
 endeavoured to select such incidents, as may 
 introduce to the reader the character of the 
 
 Xydford, a corporation in Devonshire, where it 
 seems the same irregular administration of jus- 
 tice prevailed. A burlesque copy of verses on 
 this town begins, 
 
 I oft have heard of L\ dford Law, 
 How in the morn they hang- and draw, 
 And sit in judgment after. 
 
 See Westcott's History of Devonshire. 
 
 t See the acts 18 Cha. II. ch. 3. and 30 Cha. 
 II. ch. 2. against the border moss-troopers, to 
 which we may add the following curious extracts 
 from Mercurius Politicus, a newspaper pub- 
 lished during the usurpation. 
 
 " Thursday, November 11, 1662. 
 
 Edinburgh. — The Scotts and moss-troopers 
 have again revived their old custom of robbing 
 and murthering the English, whether soldiers 
 or other, upon all opportunities, within these 
 three weeks. We have had notice of several 
 robberies and murders committed by them. 
 Among the rest, a lieutenant, and one other of 
 col. Overton's regiment, returning from Eng- 
 land, were robbed not far from Dunbarr. A 
 lieutenant, lately master of the customs at 
 Kirkcudbright, was killed about twenty miles 
 from this place ; and four foot soldiers of colonel 
 Overton's were killed, going to their quarters, 
 by some mossers, who, after they had given them 
 quarter, tied their hands behind them, and 
 threw them down a steep hill, or rock, as it was 
 related by a Scotchman, who was with them, 
 but escaped." 
 
 Ibidem—'' October 13, 1663.— The Parliament, 
 October 12, past an act, declaring, any person 
 that shall discover any felon, or felons (com- 
 monly called, or known, by the name of moss- 
 troopers), residing upon the borders of England 
 and Scotland, shall have a reward often pounds 
 upon their conviction." 
 
 BOEDER BALLADS. 325 
 
 ;% marchmen, more briefly and better than a for 
 mal essay upon their manners. If I have been 
 successful in the attempt, he is already acquainted 
 with the mixture of courage and rapacity by 
 which they were distinguished; and has re- 
 viewed some of the scenes in which they acted a 
 principal part. It is, therefore, only necessary 
 to notice, more minutely, some of their pecu- 
 liar customs and modes of life. 
 
 Their morality was of a singular kind. The 
 rapine by which they subsisted, they accounted 
 lawful and honourable. Ever liable to lose their 
 whole substance, by an incursion of the English 
 on a sudden breach of truce, they cared little to 
 waste their time in cultivating crops, to be 
 reaped by their foes. Their cattle was, there- 
 fore, their chief property ; and these were nightly 
 exposed to the southern borderers, as rapacious 
 and active as themselves. Hence robbery as- 
 sumed the appearance of fair reprisal. The fatal 
 privilege of pursuing the marauders into their 
 own country, for recovery of stolen goods, led to 
 continual skirmishes. The warden also, himself 
 frequently the chieftain of a border horde, when 
 redress was not instantly granted by the oppo- 
 site officer, for depredations sustained by his dis- 
 trict, was entitled to retaliate upon England by 
 a warden raid. In such cases, the moss-troopers, 
 who crowded to his standard, found themselves 
 pursuing their craft under legal authority, and 
 became the favourites and followers of the mili- 
 tary magistrate, whose ordinary duty it was 
 to check and suppress them. Equally unable 
 and unwilling to make nice distinctions, they 
 were not to be convinced, that what was 
 to-day fair booty, was to-morrow a subject of 
 theft. National animosity usually gave an 
 additional stimulus to their rapacity ; although 
 it must be owned that their depredations ex- 
 tended also to the more cultivated parts of their 
 own country % 
 
 $ The armorial bearings, adopted by many of 
 ^ the border tribes, show how little they were 
 
326 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 Satchells, who lived when the old border 
 ideas of meum and tuum were still in some force, 
 endeavours to draw a very nice distinction be- 
 twixt a freebooter and a thief ; and thus sings he 
 of the Armstrongs:— 
 
 On that border was the Armstrongs, able men ; 
 Somewhat unruly, and very ill to tame. 
 I would have none think that I call them thieves, 
 For, if I did, it would be arrant lies. 
 
 Near a border frontier, in the time of war, 
 There's ne'er a man but he's a freebooter. 
 
 Because to all men it may appear, 
 
 The freebooter he is a volunteer ; 
 
 In the muster-rolls he has no desire to stay ; 
 
 He lives by purchase, he gets no pay. 
 
 Ifs most clear, a freebooter doth live in hazard's 
 
 train ; 
 Afreebooter'sacavalierthatventureslifeforgain: 
 But, since king James the VI. to England went, 
 There has been no cause of grief ; 
 And he that hath transgress'd since then, 
 Is no Freebooter, but a Thief. 
 
 History of the Name of Scott. 
 
 The inhabitants of the inland counties did not 
 understand these subtle distinctions. Sir David 
 Lindsay, in the curious drama, published by Mr 
 Pinkerton, introduces, as one of his dramatis 
 persona, Common Thift, a borderer, who is sup- 
 posed to come to Fife to steal the earl of Rothes* 
 best hackney, and lord Lindsays brown jennet. 
 
 ashamed of their trade of rapine. Like Falstqff, 
 they were "Gentlemen of the night, minions of 
 the moon," under whose countenance they com- 
 mitted their depredations. — Hence, the emble- 
 matic moons and stars so frequently charged in 
 the arms of border families. Their mottoes also 
 bear an allusion to their profession. — " Repara- 
 bit cornua Phabe," i. e. " We'll have moon-lij;ht 
 again," is that of the family of Harden. " Ye 
 shall want, ere I want," that of Cranstoun. 
 " Watch well," of Haliburton, &c. 
 
 .(■'. Oppression, also (another personage there intro- 
 duced), seems to be connected with the borders; 
 for, finding himself in danger, he exclaims, — 
 
 War God that I were sound and haill, 
 
 Now liftit into Liddesdail; 
 
 The Mers sowld fynd me beif and caill, 
 
 What rack of breid ? 
 War I thair lyftit with my lyfe, 
 The devill sowld styk me with a knyffe, 
 An' ever I cum agane in Fyfe, 
 
 Till I were deid — 
 Pinkerton's Scotish Poems, vol. ii. p. 180. 
 
 Again, when Common Thift is brought to con- 
 dign punishment, he remembers his border 
 friends in his dying speech •— 
 
 The widdefow wardanis tuik my geir, 
 And left me nowthir horse nor meir, 
 Nor erdly guid that me belangit; 
 Now, walloway ! I mon be hangit. 
 
 Adew! my bruthir Annan thieves, 
 That holpit me in my mischievis; 
 Adew! Grossars, Niksonis, and Bells, 
 Oft have we fairne owrthreuch the fells: 
 Adew! Robsons, Howis, and Pylis, 
 That in our craft hes mony wilis : 
 Littlis, Trumbells, and Armestranges ; 
 Adew ! all theeves, that me bclangis; 
 Baileowes, Erewynis, and Elwandis, 
 Speedy of flicht, and slicht of handis 
 The Scotts of Eisdale, and the Gramis, 
 I haif na time to tell your nameis. 
 
 lb. p. 156. 
 
 When Common Thift i3 executed (which is 
 performed upon the stage), Falset (Falsehood), 
 who is also brought forth for punishment, pro- 
 nounces over him the following eulogy : — 
 
 Waes me for thee, gude Common Thift ! 
 Was never man made more honest chiit, 
 > His living for to win : 
 
Thairwes not, in all Liddesdail, 
 
 That ky mair craftelly could steil, 
 
 Whar thou hingis on that pin ! 
 
 lb. p. 194. 
 
 BORDER BALLADS. 327 
 
 <"' of a limited mediocrity, at the end of long labour, 
 to the last degree tame, languid, and insipid. 
 
 Sir Richard Maitland, incensed at the bold- 
 ness and impunity of the thieves of Liddesdale 
 in his time, has attacked them with keen iam- 
 bicks. 
 
 The borderers had, in fact, little reason to 
 regard the inland Scots as their fellow-subjects, 
 or to respect the power of the crown. They 
 were frequently resigned, by express compact, 
 to the bloody retaliation of the English, without 
 experiencing any assistance from their prince, 
 and his more immediate subjects. If they be- 
 held him, it was more frequently in the charac- 
 ter of an avenging judge, than of a protecting 
 sovereign. They were in truth, during the time 
 of peace, a kind of outcasts, against whom the 
 united powers of England and Scotland were 
 often employed. Hence, the men of the borders 
 had little attachment to the monarchs, whom 
 they termed, in derision, the kings of Fife and 
 Lothian; provinces which they were not legally 
 entitled to inhabit^ and which, therefore, they j 
 pillaged with as little remorse as if they had 
 belonged to a foreign country. This strange, 
 precarious, and adventurous mode oflife, led by 
 the borderers, was not without its pleasures, and I 
 seems, in all probability, hardly so disagreeable | 
 to us, as the monotony of regulated society must | 
 have been to those who had been long accus- i 
 tomed to a state of rapine. "Well has it been ( 
 remarked, by the eloquent Burke, that the J 
 shifting tides of fear and hope, the flight and I 
 pursuit, the peril and escape, alternate famine I 
 and feast, of the savage and the robber, after a I 
 time render all course of slow, steady, progres- ' 
 sive, unvaried occupation, and the prospect only I 
 
 t By an act 1587, c. 96, borderers are expelled 
 from the inland counties, unless they can find 
 security for their quiet deportment. 
 
 The interesting nature of their exploits may be 
 conceived from the account of Camden. 
 
 "What manner of cattle-stealers they are 
 that inhabit these valleys in the marches of 
 both kingdoms, J>hn Lesley, a Scotchman him- 
 self, and bishop of Ross, will inform you. They 
 sally out of their own borders, in the night, 
 in troops, through unfrequented bye-ways, and 
 many intricate windings. All the day-time 
 they refresh themselves and their horses in lurk- 
 ing holes they had pitched upon before, till they 
 arrive in the dark at those places they have a 
 design upon. As soon as they have seized upon 
 the booty, they, in like manner, return home in 
 the night, through blind ways, and fetching 
 many a compass. The more skilful any captain 
 is to pass through those wild deserts, crooked 
 turnings, and deep precipices, in the thickest 
 mists and darkness, his reputation is the 
 greater, and he is looked upon as a man of an 
 excellent head. — And they are so very cunning, 
 that they seldom have their booty taken from 
 them, unless sometimes, when, by the help of 
 blood-hounds following them exactly upon the 
 tract, they may chance to fall into the hands of 
 their adversaries. When being taken , they have 
 so much persuasive eloquence, and so many 
 smooth insinuating words at command, that if 
 they do not move their judges, nay, and even 
 their adversaries (notwithstanding the severity 
 of their natures) to have mercy, yet they incite 
 them to admiration and compassion." — Cam- 
 den's Britannia. The reader is requested to 
 compare this curious account, given by Lesley, 
 with the ballad called Robbie Noble. $ 
 
 ± The following tradition is also illustrative 
 of Lesley's account. Veitch of Dawyk, a man of 
 great strength and bravery, who flourished in 
 the 16th century, is said by tradition to have 
 been upon bad terms with a neighbouring pro- 
 prietor, Tueedie of Drumn elzier. By some 
 accident a flock of Dawyk's sheep had strayed 
 
328 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 The inroads of the marchers, when stimulated 
 only by the desire of plunder, were never marked 
 with cruelty, and seldom even with bloodshed, 
 unless in the case of opposition. They held, 
 that property wag common to all who stood in 
 want of it ; but they abhorred and avoided the 
 crime of unnecessary homicide. — Lesley, p. 63. 
 This was, perhaps, partly owing to the habits of 
 intimacy betwixt the borderers of both king- 
 doms, notwithstanding their mutual hostility 
 and reciprocal depredations. A natural inter- 
 course took place between the English and 
 Scottish marchers, at border meetings, and dur- 
 ing the short intervals of peace. They met fre- 
 quently at parties of the chace and football ; and 
 it required many and strict regulations, on both 
 sides, to prevent them from forming intermar- 
 riages, and from cultivating'too close a degree of 
 intimacy.— Scottish Acts, 1587, c. 105 ; Wharton's 
 Regulations, 6th Edward VI. The custom, also, 
 of paying black-mail, or protection rent, intro- 
 duced a connection betwixt the countries; for 
 a Scottish borderer, taking black-mail from an 
 English inhabitant, was not only himself bound 
 to abstain from injuring such person, but also 
 to maintain his quarrel, and recover his pro- 
 perty, if carried off by others. Hence, an union 
 rose betwixt the parties, founded upon mutual 
 interest, v/hich counteracted, in many instances, 
 
 over into Drummelzier's grounds, at the time 
 when Dickie of the Den, a Liddesdale outlaw, 
 was making his rounds in Tweeddale. Seeing 
 this flock of sheep, he drove them off without 
 ceremony. Next morning, "Veitch, perceiving 
 his loss, summoned his servants and retainers, 
 laid a blood-hound upon the traces of the rob- 
 ber, by whom they were guided for many miles, 
 till, on the banks of Liddel, the dog staid upon 
 a very large hay-stack. The pursuers were a 
 good deal surprised at the obstinate pause of the 
 blood-hound, till Dawyk pulled down some of 
 the hay, and discovered a large excavation, con- 
 taining the robbers and their spoil. He in- 
 stantly flew upon Dickie, and was about to 
 poniard him, when the marauder, with the 
 address noticed by Lesley, protested that he ! 
 would never have touched a ctoot (hoof) of them, S 
 
 the effects of national prejudice. The similar- 
 ity of their manners may be inferred from that 
 of their language. In an old mystery, imprinted 
 at London, 1654, a mendicant borderer is intro- 
 duced, soliciting alms of a citizen and his wife. 
 To a question of the latter he replies, " Savying 
 your hoaour, good maistress, I was born in 
 Redesdale, in Northomberlande, and come of a 
 wight riding sirname, call'd the Robsons: gude 
 honeste men, and true, savyng a little shiftynge 
 for theyr livyng; God help them, silly pure 
 men." The wife answers, "What doest thou 
 here, in this countrie ? me thinke thou art a 
 Scot by thy tongue." Beggar.—" Trowe me 
 never mair then, good deam; I had rather be 
 hanged in a withie of a cow-taile, for thei are 
 ever fare and fause."— Appendix to Johnson's 
 Sad Shepherd, 1783, p. 188. From the wife's 
 observation, as well as from the dialect of the 
 beggar, we may infer, that there was little dif- 
 ference between the Northumbrian and the bor- 
 der Scottish; a circumstance interesting in 
 itself, and decisive of the occasional friendly 
 intercourse among the marchmen. From all 
 these combining circumstances arose the lenity 
 of the borderers in their incursions, and the 
 equivocal moderation which they sometimes 
 observed towards each other in open war.f 
 
 had he not taken them for Drummelzier's pro- 
 perty. This dexterous appeal to Veitch's pas- 
 sions saved the life of the freebooter. 
 
 f This practice of the rr.archrncn was observed 
 and reprobated by Patten. "Anoother manner 
 have they (the English borderers) amoong them, 
 of wearyng handkerchers roll'd about their 
 armes, and lettres brouder'd (embroidered) upon 
 their cappes : they said themselves, the use 
 thearof was that ech of thern might kriowe his 
 fellowe, and thearbye the sooner assemble, or in 
 nede to ayd one another, and such lyke respectes; 
 howbeit, thear wear of the army amoong us 
 (sum suspicious men perchance) that thought 
 thei used them for collusion, and rather bycaus 
 thei might be knowen to the enemie, as the ene- 
 mies are knowen to them (for thei have their 
 markes too,) and so in conflict either ech to spare 
 
BOEDER BALLADS. 
 
 This humanity and moderation was, on cer- 
 tain occasions, entirely laid aside by the border- 
 ers. In the case of deadly feud, either against 
 an Englishman, or against any neighbouring 
 tribe, the whole force of the offended clan was 
 bent to avenge the death of any of their num- 
 ber. Their vengeance not only vented itself 
 upon the homicide and his family, but upon all 
 his kindred, on his whole tribe; and on every 
 one, in fine, whose death or ruin could affect 
 him with regret.— Lesley, p. 63 ; Border Laws, 
 passim ; Scottish Acts, 1594, c. 231. The reader 
 will find, in the following collection, many allu- 
 sions to this infernal custom, which always 
 overcame the marcher's general reluctance to 
 shed human blood, and rendered him remorse- 
 lessly savage. 
 
 oother, or gently eche to take oother. Indede, 
 men have been mooved the rather to thinke so, 
 bycaus sum of their crosses {the English red cross) 
 were so narrowe, and so singly set on, that a 
 puffe of wynde might blowe them from their 
 breastes, and that thei wear found right often 
 talkiqg with the Skottish prikkers within less 
 than their gad's (spears) length asunder; and 
 when thei perceived thei had been espied, thei 
 have be un one to run at anoother, but so ap- 
 parently perlassent {in parley) as the lookers on 
 resembled their chasyng lyke the running at 
 base in an uplondish toun, whear the match is 
 made for a quart of good ale, or like the play in 
 Robin Cookes scole (a fencing school,) whear, 
 bycaus the punies mey lerne, thei strike fewe 
 strokes but by assent and appointment. I hard 
 sum men say, it did mooch augment their sus- 
 picion that wey, bycaus at the battail they sawe 
 these prikkers so badly demean them, more 
 intending the taking of prisoners, than the 
 surety of victorye ; for while oother men fought, 
 thei fell to their prey ; that as thear wear but 
 fewe of them but brought home his prisoner, so 
 wear thear many that had six or seven." — Pat- 
 ten's Account of Somerset's Expedition, apud 
 Da/yell's Fragments, p. 76. 
 
 It is singular that, about this very period, the 
 same circumstances are severely animadverted 
 upon by the strenuous Scottishman, who wrote 
 the Complaynt of Scotland, as well as by the 
 English author above quoted : " There is nothing 
 
 329 
 
 For fidelity to their word, Lesley ascribes high 
 praise to the inhabitants of%he Scottish frontier. 
 Robert Constable (himself a traitorous spy) de- 
 scribes the outlaws, who were his guides into 
 Scotland, as men who would not hesitate to 
 steal, yet would betray no man, that trusted in 
 them, for all the gold in Scotland or France. 
 "They are my guides," said he; "and outlaws 
 who might gain their pardon by surrendering 
 me, yet I am secure of their fidelity, and have 
 often proved it." Indeed, when an instance 
 happened of breach of faith, the injured person, 
 at the first border meeting, rode through the 
 field, displaying a glove (the pledge of faith) 
 upon the point of his lance, and proclaiming 
 the perfidy of the person who had broken his 
 word. So great was the indignation of the 
 
 that is occasione of your adhering to the opinion 
 of Inland contrair your natife cuntre, bet the 
 grit familiarite that Inglis men and Scottes lies 
 had on baith the boirdours, ilkane withtutheris, 
 in merchandeis, in selling and buying hors and 
 nolt, and scheip, outfang, and infang, ilk ane 
 amang utheris, the whilk familiarite is express 
 contrar the lauis and consuetudis bayth of Ing- 
 land and Scotland. In auld tymis it was deter- 
 mit in the artiklis of the pace, be the twa war- 
 danis of the boirdours of Ingland and Scotland, 
 that there shuld be na familiaritie betwix Scottis 
 men and Inglis men, nor marriage to be con- 
 trakit betwix them, nor conventions on holy- 
 dais at gammis and plays, nor merchandres to 
 be maid amang them, nor Scottis men till enter 
 on Inglis grond, witht out the king of lngland'3 
 save conduct, nor Inglis men til enter on Scottis 
 grond, witht out the King of Scotland's save con- 
 duct, howbeit that ther war sure pace betwix 
 the twa realmes. Bot thir sevyn yeir bygane, 
 thai statutis and artiklis of the pace are adnullit, 
 for ther hes been as grit familiaritie, and conven- 
 tions, and makyng of merchandreis, on the 
 boirdours, this lang tyme betwix Inglis men and 
 Scottis men, baytht in pace and weir, as Scottis- 
 men usis amang theme selfis witht in the reaime 
 of Scotland : and sic familiarite has bene the 
 cause that the kyng of Ingland gat intelligence 
 witht divers gentlemen of Scotland." — Complaynt 
 of Scotland, Edin. 1801, p. 164. 
 
330 
 
 SCOTTISH oAJLuaDS. 
 
 assembly against the perjured criminal, that he 4e hard and useless to have punished them for the 
 
 was often slain by his own clan, to wipe out the 
 disgrace he had brought on them. In the same 
 spirit of confidence', it was not unusual to behold 
 the victors, after an engagement, dismiss their 
 prisoners upon parole, who never failed either to 
 transmit the stipulated ransom, or to surrender 
 themselves to bondage, if unable to do so. But 
 the virtues of a barbarous people, being founded 
 not upon moral principle, but upon the dreams 
 of superstition, or the capricious dictates of an- 
 cient custom, can seldom be uniformly relied on. 
 We must not, therefoie, be surprised to find 
 these very men, so true to their word in general, 
 using, upon other occasions, various resources 
 of cunning and chicane, against which the bor- 
 der laws were in vain directed. 
 
 The immediate rulers of the borders were the 
 chiefs of the different clans, who exercised over 
 their respective septs a dominion partly patri- 
 archal, and partly feudal. The latter bond of 
 adherence was, however, the more slender; for, 
 in the acts regulating the borders, we find 
 repeated mention of "Clannes having captaines 
 and chieftaines, whom on they depend, oft-times 
 against the willes of their landeslordes." — Stat. 
 1587, c. 95, and the Roll thereto annexed. Of 
 course, these laws locked less to the feudal su- 
 perior, than to the chieftain of the name, for 
 the restraint of the disorderly tribes; and it is 
 repeatedly enacted, that the head of the clan 
 should be first called upon to deliver those of his 
 sept, who should commit any trespass, and that, 
 on his failure to do so, he should be liable to the 
 injured party in full redress. Ibidem, and Stat. 
 1574, e. 231, By the same statutes, the chieftains 
 and landlords, presiding over border elans, were 
 Obliged to find caution, and togranthost.tges, that 
 they would subject themselves to the due course 
 of law. Such clans, as had no chieftain of suffi- 
 cient note to enter bail for their quiet conduct, 
 became broken men, outlawed to both nations. 
 
 From these enactments, the power of the bor- 
 der chieftains may be conceived; for it had been 
 
 trespasses of their tribes, unless they possessed 
 overthem unlimited authority. The abode of these 
 petty princes by no means corresponded to the 
 extent of their power. We do not find, on the 
 Scottish borders, the splendid and extensive 
 baronial castles which graced and defended the 
 oppnsite frontier. The gothic grandeur of Aln- 
 j wick, of Eaby, and of Naworth, marks the weal- 
 thier and more secure state of the English nobles. 
 The Scottish chieftain, however extensive his 
 domains, derived no advantage, save from such 
 parts as he could himself cultivate or occupy. 
 Payment of rent was hardly known on the bor- 
 ders, till after the union. f All that the land- 
 lord could gain, from those residing upon his 
 estate, was their personal service in battle, their 
 assistance in labouring the land retained in his 
 natural possession, some petty quit rents, of a 
 nature resembling the feudal casualties, and per- 
 haps a share in the spoil which they acquired 
 by rapine4 This, with his herds of cattle and 
 
 f Stowe, in detailing the happy consequences 
 of the union of the crowns, observes, "that the 
 northerne borders became as safe, and peac able, 
 as any part of the entire kingdome, so as in the 
 fuurthe year of the king's reigne, as well gentle 
 men and others, inhabiting the places aforesayde, 
 finding the auncient wast ground to be very good 
 and fruitefull, began to contende in lawe about 
 their bounds, challenging then, that for their 
 hereditarie right, which formerly they disavowed, 
 only to avoyde charge of common defence." 
 
 ± "As for the humours of the i eople (i. e. 
 of Tiviotdale), they were both strong and war- 
 like, as being inured to war, and daily incur- 
 sions, and the most part of the heritors of the 
 country gave out all their lands to their tenants, 
 for military attendance, upon rentals, and re- 
 served only some few manses for their own sus- 
 tenance, which were laboured by their tenants, 
 besides their service. They paid an entry, a 
 herauld, and a small rental-duty ; for there 
 were no rents raised here that were considera- 
 ble, till king James went into England; yea, 
 all along the border." — Account of Roxburgh- 
 shire, by Sir William Scott of Harden, and Kerr 
 of Sunlanis, apud Macfarlane's MSS. 
 
BORDER BALLADS. 
 
 331 
 
 of sheep, and with the black-mail, which he 
 exacted from his neighbours, constituted the 
 revenue of the chieftain ; and, from funds so 
 precarious, he could rarely spare sums to expend 
 in strengthening or decorating his habitation. 
 Another reason is found in the Scottish mode of 
 warfare. It was early discovered, that the 
 English surpass their neighbours in the arts of 
 assaulting or defending fortified places. The 
 policy of the Scottish, therefore, deterred them 
 from erecting upon the borders buildings of such 
 extent and strength, as, being once taken by the 
 foe, would have been capable of receiving a per- 
 manent garrison.f To themselves, the woods 
 and hills of their country were pointed out by 
 the great Bruce, as their safest bulwarks ; and 
 the maxim of the Douglasses, that " it was 
 better to hear the lark sing, than the mouse 
 cheep," was adopted by every border chief. For 
 these combined reasons the residence of the 
 chieftain was commonly a lar.e square battle- 
 mented ± tower, called a keep, or peel ; placed on 
 a precipice, or on the banks of a torrent, and, 
 
 t The royal castles of Roxburgh, Hermitage, 
 Lochmabtn, &c, form a class of exceptions to 
 this rule, being extensive and well fortified. 
 Perhaps we ought als > to except the baronial 
 castle of Hume. Yet, in 1455, the following 
 petty garrisons were thought sufficient for the 
 protection of the burder; two hundred spear- 
 men, and as many archeis, upon the east and 
 middle marches ; and one hundred spears, with 
 a like number of bowmen, upon tbe western 
 marches. But then the same statute provides, 
 " That they are neare hand the burdoure, are 
 ordained to have gud househaldes, and abulzied 
 men as effeiris : and to be redJie at their princi- 
 pal place, and to pass, with the wardanes, quhen 
 and quhair they sail be charged." — Acts of James 
 II., cap. 55, Of garrisons to be laid upon the bor- 
 ders — Hence Buchanan has justly described, as 
 an attribute of the Scottish nation, 
 
 " Nee fossis nee i 
 
 ■ patr 
 
 <i,sed Martetusri. 
 
 i I have observed a difference in architecture | 
 betwixt the English and .-cottish towers. The : i 
 latter usually have upon the tup a projecting 
 battlement, with interstices, anciently called ^ 
 
 > if the ground would permit, surrounded by a 
 moat. In short, the situation of a border house, 
 surrounded by woods, and rendered almost inac- 
 cessible by torrents, by rocks, or by morasses, 
 sufficiently indicated the pursuits and appre- 
 hensions of its inhabitants." — " Iacus horroris 
 et vast t solitudinis, aptus ad pradam, habilis ad 
 rapinam, habitatoribus suis lapis erat qffensionis 
 et pttra scanda/i, utpotequi stipendhs suis minime 
 contenti, totum de alieno, parum de svo, posside- 
 bant—tolius prnvinci spolium." No wonder, 
 therefore, that James T., on approaching the 
 castle of Lochwood, the ancient seat of the 
 Johnstones, is said to have exclaimed, " that he 
 who built it must have been a knave in his 
 heart." An outer wall, with some slight forti- 
 fications, served as a protection for the castle at 
 night. The walls of these fortresses were of an 
 immense thickness, and they could easily be 
 defended against any small force ; more espe- 
 cially, as, the rooms being vaulted, each story 
 formed a separate lodgement, capable of being 
 held out for a considerable time. On such occa- 
 sions, the usual mode adopted by the assailants, 
 was to expel the defenders, by setting fire to wet 
 straw in the lower apartments. But the border 
 chieftains seldom chose to abide in person a siege 
 of this nature ; and 1 have not observed a single 
 instance of a distinguished baron made prisoner 
 in his own house. § Patten's Expedition, p. 35. 
 The common people resided in paltry huts, 
 about the safety of which they were little an- 
 xious, as they contained nothing of value. On 
 the approach of a superior force, they un thatched 
 them, to prevent their being burned, and then 
 abandoned them to the foe. — Storve's Chronicle, 
 
 machicoulis, betwixt the parapet and the wall, 
 through which stones or darts might be hurled 
 upon the assailants. This kind of fortification 
 is less common en the south border. 
 
 § I ought to except the famous Dand Ker, who 
 was made prisoner in his castle of Fairnihirst 
 after defending it bravely agaiust lord Dacr^s, 
 24th September, 1523. 
 
332 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 p. 665. Their only treasures were, a fleet and $ 
 active horse, with the ornaments which their 
 rapine had procured for the females of their 
 family, of whose gay appearance the horderers 
 were vain. 
 
 Some rude monuments occur upon the bor- 
 ders, the memorial of ancient valour. Such is 
 the cross at Milholm, on the banks of the Lid- 
 del, said to have been erected in memory of the 
 chief of the Armstrongs, murdered treacher- 
 ously by lord Soulis, while feasting in Hermi- 
 tage castle. Such also, a rude stone, now bro- 
 ken, and very much defaced, placed upon a 
 mount on the lands of Haugh-head, near the 
 junction of the Kale and Teviot. The inscrip- 
 tion records the defence made by Hobbie Hall, 
 a man of great strength and courage, against 
 an attempt of the powerful family of Ker, to 
 possess themselves of his small estate.f 
 
 The same simplicity marked their dress and 
 arms. Patten observes, that in battle the laird 
 could not be distinguished from the serf: all 
 wearing the same coat-armour, called a jack, 
 and the baron being only distinguished by his 
 sleeves of mail and his head-piece. Tlr^ bor- 
 derers, in general, acted as light cavalry, jiding 
 horses of a small size, but astonishingly nimble, 
 and trained to move, by short bounds, tWrough 
 the morasses with which Scotland abounds. 
 Their offensive weapons were a lance of uncom- 
 
 f The rude strains of the inscription little cor- 
 respond with the gallantry of a 
 
 It is in these words • 
 
 Here Hobbie Hall boldly maintained his right, 
 
 'Gainst reif, plain force, armed wi' awless might. 
 
 Full thirty pleughs. harnes'd in all their gear, 
 
 Could not his valiant noble heart make fear! 
 
 But wi' his sword he cut the foremost's soarn 
 
 £n two; and drove baith pleughs and pleughmen home, 
 
 Soam means the iron links which fasten a yoke 
 of oxen to the plough. Ctf; 
 
 mon length; a sword, cither two-handed, or of 
 the modern light size ; sometimes a species of 
 battle-axe, called a Jedburgh-staff; and, lat- 
 terly, dags, or pistols. Although' so much accus- 
 tomed to act on horseback, that they held it 
 even mean to appear otherwise, the marchmen 
 occasionally acted as infantry; nor Were they 
 inferior to the rest of Scotland in forming that 
 impenetrable phalanx of spears, whereof it is 
 said, by an English historian, that "sooner 
 shall a bare finger pierce through the skin of an 
 angry hedge-hog, than any one encounter the 
 brunt of their pikes." At the battle of Melrose, 
 for example, Buccleuch's army fought upon 
 foot. But the habits of the bord-erers fitted 
 them particularly to distinguish themselves as 
 light cavalry ; and hence the name of prickers 
 and hobylers, so frequently applied to them. 
 At the blaze of their beacon fires, they were 
 wont to assemble ten thousand horsemen in the 
 course of a single day. Thus rapid in their war- 
 like preparations, they were alike ready for 
 attack and defence. Each individual carried his 
 own provisions, consisting of a small bag of oat- 
 meal, and trusted to plunder, or the chace, for 
 ekeing out his precarious meal. Beauge re- 
 marks, that nothing surprised the Scottish 
 cavalry so much as to see their French auxili- 
 aries encumbered with baggage-waggons, and 
 attended by commissaries. Before joining bat- 
 tle, it seems to have been the Scottish practice 
 to set fire to the litter of their camp, while, 
 under cover of the smoke, the hobylers, or bor- 
 der cavalry, executed their manoeuvres. — There 
 is a curious account of the battle of Mitton, 
 fought in the year 1319, in a valuable MS. 
 Chronicle of England, in the collection of the 
 marquis of Douglas, from which this stratagem 
 seems to have decided the engagement, "In 
 meyn time, while the wer thus lastyd, the 
 kynge went agane into Skotlonde, that hitte 
 was wonder for to wette, and bysechd the towr.e 
 of Barwick; but the Skottes went over the 
 water of Sold, that was iii myle from the hoste, 
 
BORDER BAHAD£ 
 
 333 
 
 and prively they stole away by nyghte, and 
 oome into England, and robbed and destroyed 
 all that they myght, and spared no manner 
 thins til that they come to Torke. And, whan 
 the Englischemen, that were left at home, herd 
 this tiding, all tho that myght well travell, so 
 well monkys and priestis, and freres, and cha- 
 nouns, and seculars, come and met with the 
 Skcttes at Mytone of Swale, the xii day of Octo- 
 ber. Alias, for sorrow for the Englischemen! 
 housbondmen, that cculd nothing in wer, ther 
 were quelled and drenchyd in an arm of the 
 see. And hyr chyftaines, sir William Milton, 
 ersch-biishop of Yorke, and the abbot of Selby, 
 with h t r stedes, fled and come into Yorke; and 
 that was her owne folye that they had that 
 n-.ischaunce ; for the passyd the water of Swale, 
 and the Skottes set on fiir three stalkes of hey, 
 ani the smoke thereof was so huge, that the 
 Englischemen might not see the Scottss; and 
 whan the Englischemen were gon over the water, 
 tho came the Skottes, with hir wyng, in maner 
 of a sheld, and come toward the Englischemen 
 in ordour. And the Englischemen fled for un- 
 nethe they had any use of arn.es, for the kyng 
 had hem al almost lost att the sege of Barwick. 
 And the Scotsmen hobylers went betwene the 
 brigge and the Englischemen; and when the 
 gret hoste them n.et, the Englischemen fled be- 
 tween the hobylers and the gret hoste; and the 
 En?l:sehemen wer ther quelled, and he that 
 myght wend over the water were saved, but 
 many were drowned. Alas ! for there were 
 slayn many men of religion, and seculars, and 
 pnstis, and clerks, and with much sorwe the 
 erschbisehope scaped from the Skottes; and, 
 therefore, the Skottes called that battel the 
 White Battcll." 
 
 For smaller predatory expeditions, the bor- 
 derers had signals, and places of rendezvous, 
 peculiar to each tribe. 1 f the party set forward 
 before all the menbers had joined, a mark, cut 
 in the turf, or on the bark of a tree, pointed out 
 to the stragglers the direction which the main 
 
 % body had pursued.} Their warlike convoca- 
 tions were, also, frequently disguised, under pre- 
 tence of meetings for the purpose of sport. The 
 '. game of foot-ball, in particular, which was an- 
 \ ciently, and still continues to be, a favourite 
 i border sport, was the means of collecting to- 
 ' gether large bodies of moss-troopers, previous to 
 | any military exploit. "When Sir Robert Carey- 
 was warden of the east marches, the knowledge 
 that there was a great match at f ot-ball at 
 Kelso, to be frequented by the principal Scot- 
 tish riders, was sufficient to excite his vigilance 
 and his apprehension 4 Previous also to the 
 murder of Sir John Carmichael (see Notes on the 
 Raid of the Reidsrvire,) it appeared at the trial 
 of the perpetrators, that they had assisted at a 
 : grand foot-ball meeting, where the crime was 
 concerted. 
 
 Upon the religion of the borderers there can 
 very little be said. "We have already noticed, 
 that they remained attached to the Roman 
 Catholic faith rather longer than the rest of 
 ' Scotland. This probably arose from a total in- 
 : difference upon the subject; for we no where 
 find in their character the respect for the church, 
 which is a marked feature of that religion. In 
 152S, Lord Dacre complains heavily to cardinal 
 "Wolsey, that, having taken a notorious free- 
 booter, called Dyk Irwen, the brother and 
 friends of the outlaw had, in retaliation, seized 
 a man of some property, and a relation of Lord 
 Dacre, called Jeffrey Middleton, as he returned 
 from a pilgrimage to St Ninian's, in Galloway; 
 and that, notwithstanding the sanctity of his 
 character as a true pilgrim, and the Scottish 
 
 f In the parish of Linton, in Roxburghshire, 
 there is a circle of stones, surrounding a smooth 
 plot of turf, called the Tryst, or place of appoint- 
 ment, which tradition avers to have been the 
 rendezvous of the neighbouring warriors. The 
 name of the leader was cut in the turf, and the 
 arrangement of the letters announced to his fol- 
 lowers the course which he had taken. See 
 Statistical Account cj the Parish of Linton. 
 
 $ See Appendix. 
 
334 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 monarch's safeconduct, they continued to detain 
 him in their fastnesses, until he should redeem 
 the said arrant thief, Dyk 1 rwen. The abbeys, 
 which were planted upon the border, neitner 
 seem to have been much respected by the Eng- 
 lish, nor by the Scottish barons. They were 
 repeatedly burned by the former, in the course 
 of the border wars, and by the latter they seem 
 to have been regarded chiefly as the means of 
 endowing a needy relation, or the subject of 
 occasional plunder. Thus, Andrew Home of 
 Fastcastle, about 1488, attempted to procure a 
 perpetual feu of certain possessions belonging to 
 the abbey of Coldinghame; and being baffled, 
 by the king bestowing that opulent benefice 
 upon the royal chapel at Stirling, the Humes 
 and Hepburns started into rebellion ; asserting, 
 that the priory should be conferred upon some 
 younger son of their families, according to an- 
 cient custom. After the fatal battle of Flodden, 
 one of the Kers testified his contempt for cleri- 
 cal immunities and privileges, by expelling from 
 his house the abbot of Kelso. These bickerings 
 bttwixt the clergy and the barons were usually 
 excited by disputes about their temporal inter- 
 est. It was common for the churchmen to 
 grant lands in feu to the neighbouring gentle- 
 men, who, becoming their vassals, were bound 
 to assist and protect them.f But, as the pos- 
 sessions and revenues of the benefices became 
 thus intermixed with those of the laity, any 
 attempts rigidly to enforce the claims of the 
 church were usually attended by the most scan- 
 dalous disputes. A petty warfare was carried 
 on for years, betwixt James, abbot of Dryburgh, 
 and the family of Halliburton of Mertoun, or 
 Newmains, who held some lands from that 
 abbey. These possessions were, under various 
 
 pretexts, seized and laid waste by both parties ; 
 
 •(■ These vassals resembled, in some degree, the 
 "Vidames in France, and the "Vogten, or Yize- 
 domen, of the German abbeys; but the system 
 was never carried regularly into effect in Bri- 
 tain, and this circumstance facilitated the dis- 
 solution of the religious houses. 
 
 and some bloodshed took place in the contest, 
 ! betwixt the lay vassals and their spiritual supe- 
 1 rior. The matter was, at length, thought of 
 ; sufficient importance to be terminated by a re- 
 i ference to his majesty; whose decree arbitral, 
 dated at Stirling, the 8th of May, 1535, proceeds 
 | thus : " Whereas we, having been advised and 
 | knowing the said gentlemen, the Halliburtons, 
 to be leal and true honest men, long servants 
 ! unto the saide abbeye, for the saide landis, stout 
 I men at armes, and goode borderers against 
 I Ingland ; and doe therefore decree and ordain, 
 that they sail be repossess'd, and bruik and en- 
 joy the landis and steedings they had of the 
 said abbeye, paying the use and wonte : and 
 that they sail be goode servants to the said 
 venerabil father, like as they and their pre- 
 decessours were to the said venerabil father, 
 and his predecessours, and he a good master 
 to them." J It is unnecessary to detain the 
 reader with other instances of the discord, 
 which prevailed anciently upon the borders, be- 
 twixt the spiritual shepherd and his untractable 
 flock. 
 
 The reformation was late of finding its way 
 into the border wilds; for, while the religious 
 
 % This decree was followed by a marriage be- 
 twixt the abbot's daughter, Elizabeth Stewart, 
 and Walter Halliburton, one of the family of 
 Newmains. But even this alliance did not 
 secure peace between the venerable father and 
 his vassals. The offspring of the marriage was 
 an only daughter, named Elizabeth Halliburton. 
 As this young lady was her father's heir, the 
 Halliburtons resolved that she should marry one 
 of her cousins, to k' ep her property in the clan. 
 But as this did not suit the views of the abbot, 
 he carried off by force the intended bride, and 
 married her, at Stirling, to Alexander Erskine, 
 a brother of the laird of Balgony.a relation and 
 follower of his own. From this marriage sprung 
 the Erskines of Shielfield. This exploit of the 
 abbot revived the feud betwixt him and the 
 Halliburtons, which only ended with the disso- 
 lution of the abbey.— MS. History of Halliburton 
 Family, penes editorem. 
 
BORDER BALLADs. 
 
 and civil dissensions were at the height in 156S, 
 Drury writes to Cecil,—" Our trusty neighbours 
 of Teviotdale are holden occupied only to attend 
 to the pleasure and calling of their own heads, to 
 make some diversion in this matter." The 
 influence of the reformed preachers, among the 
 borders, seems also to have been but small; for, 
 upon all occasions of dispute with ths kirk, 
 James VI. was wont to call in their assistance. 
 —Calderrvood, p. 129. 
 
 We learn from a curious passage in the life of 
 Richard Cameron, a fanatical preacher during 
 the time of what is called the "persecution," 
 that some of the borderers retained to a late 
 period their indifference about religious matters. 
 After having been licensed at Haughhead, in 
 Teviotdale, he was, according to his biographer, 
 sent first to preach in Annandale. "Hesaid ; 
 ' How can I go there ? I know what sort of peo- 
 ple they are.* 'But,' Mr. "Welch said, 'go your 
 way, Ritchie, and set the fire of hell to their 
 tails.'" He went; and, the first day, he 
 preached upon that text, How shall 1 put thee 
 among the children, 6}c. In the application, he 
 said, ' Put you among the children ' the off- 
 spring c f thieves and robbers ! we have all heard 
 of Annandale thieves.' Some of them got a 
 merciful cast that day, and told afterwards, that 
 it was the first field-meeting they ever attended, 
 and that they went out of mere curiosity, to see 
 a minister preach in a tent, and people sit on 
 the ground." — Life of Richard Cameron. f 
 
 Cleland, an enthusiastic Camercnian, lieuten- 
 ant-colonel of the regiment levied after the 
 revolution from among that wild and fanatical 
 sect, claims to the wandering preachers of his 
 
 f This man was chaplain in the family of Sir 
 "Walter Scott of Harden, who attended the 
 meetings of the indulged presbyterians ; but 
 Cameron, consideiing this conduct as a com- 
 promise with the foul fiend Episcopacy, was 
 dismissed from the family. He was slain in a 
 skirmish at Airdsmoss, bequeathing his name 
 to the sect of fanatics still called Cameronians. 
 
 335 
 
 & tribe the merit of converting the borderers. He 
 introduces a cavalier haranguing the Highland- 
 ers, and ironically thus guarding them against 
 the fanatic divines: 
 
 " If their doctrine there get rooting, 
 Then, farewell theift, the best of booting. 
 And this ye see is very clear, 
 Dayly experience makes it appear ; 
 For instance, lately on the borders, 
 Where there was nought but theft and murders, 
 Rapine, cheating, and resetting, 
 Slight of hand, and fortunes getting, 
 Their designation, as ye ken, 
 Was all along the Tacking Men. 
 Kow, rebels nitre prevails with words, 
 Than drawgoons does with guns and swords, 
 So that their bare prtaching now 
 Makes the rush-bush keep the cow; 
 I Better than Scots or English kings 
 Could do by kilting them with strings. 
 Tea, those that were the greatest rogues, 
 Follows them over hills and bogues, 
 Crying for mercy and for preaching, 
 For they'll now hear no others teaching." 
 
 Cleland's Poems, 1697, p. 30. 
 
 The poet of the "Whigs might exaggerate the 
 
 success of their teachers ; yet it must be owned, 
 
 that the doctrine of insubordination, joined to 
 
 I their vagrant and lawless habits, was calculated 
 
 ! strongly to conciliate their border hearers. 
 
 But, though the church, in the border coun- 
 ties, attracted little veneration, no part of Scot- 
 land teemed with superstitious fears and obser- 
 vances more than they did. '' The Dales ien,"| 
 says Lesley, "never count their beads with such 
 
 ± An epithet bestowed upon the borderers, 
 from the names of the various districts ; as Ti- 
 viotdale, Liddesdale, Eskdale, Ewsdale, Annan- 
 dale, &c. Hence, an old ballad distinguishes 
 the north as the country, 
 
 ""VMiere every river gives name to a H b." 
 
 Ex-ale-tation of Ale. 
 
J36 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 earnestness as when they set out upon a preda- 
 tory expedition." Penances, the composition 
 betwixt guilt and conscience, were also frequent 
 upon the borders. Of this we have a record in 
 many bequests to the church, and in some more 
 Listing monuments; such as the Tower of Re- 
 pentance, in Dumfries-shire, and, according to 
 vulgar tradition, the church of Linton, f in 
 Roxburghshire. Instances exist of leagues, or 
 treaties of peace betwixt two hostile clans, by 
 which the heads of each became bound to make 
 the four pilgrimages of Scotland, for the be- 
 nefit of the souls of those of the opposite clan, 
 who had fallen in the feud. These were super- 
 stitions, flowing immediately from the nature 
 of the Catholic religion : but there was, upon 
 the border, no lack of others of a more gene- 
 ral nature. Such was the universal belief in 
 spells, of which some traces may yet remain 
 in the wild parts of the country. These were 
 common in the time of the learned bishop 
 Nicolson, who derives them from the time of 
 the Pagan Danes. " This conceit was the more 
 heightened, by reflecting upon the natural 
 superstition of our borderers at this day, who 
 were much better acquainted with, and do more 
 firmly believe, their old legendary stories, of 
 fairies and witches, than the articles of their 
 creed. And to convince me, yet farther, that 
 they are not utter strangers to the black art of 
 their forefathers, I met with a gentleman in the 
 
 f This small church is founded upon a little 
 hill of sand, in which no stone of the size of an 
 egg is said to have been found, although the 
 neighbouring soil is sharp and gravelly. Tra- 
 dition accounts for this, by informing us, that 
 the foundresses were two sisters, ujon whose 
 account much blood had been spilt in that spot; 
 and that the penance imposed pn the fair causers 
 of the slaughter, was an order from the pope to 
 sift the sand of the hill, upon which their church 
 was to be erected. This story may, perhaps, 
 have some foundation ; for, in the church-yard 
 was discovered a single grave, containing no 
 fewer than fifty skulls, most of which bore the 
 marks of having been cleft by violence. ( 
 
 neighbourhood, who showed me a book of spells, 
 and magical receipts, taken, two or three days 
 before, in the pocket of one of our moss-troopers; 
 wherein, among many other conjuring feats, 
 was prescribed a certain remedy for an ague, by 
 applying a few barbarous characters to the bjdy 
 of the party distempered. These, methought, 
 were very near a-kin to Wormius's Ram liuner, 
 which, he says, differed wholly in figure and 
 shape from the common runa. For, though he 
 tells us that these Ram Runer were so called, 
 Eo quod molestias, dotores, morbcsquc hiice injli- 
 gere, inimicis soliti sunt magi ; yet his great 
 friend, Arng. Jonas, more to our purpose, says 
 that — His etiam usi sunt ad benejdciendum, ju- 
 vandum, medicandum tarn aninti quam corporis 
 morbis ; atque ad ipsos cacodwmones pellendus et 
 fugandos. I shall not trouble you with a draught 
 of this spell, because I have not yet had an op- 
 portunity of learning whether it may not be an 
 ordinary one, and to be met with, among others 
 of the same nature, in Paracelsus, or Cornelius 
 Agrippa." — Letter from Bishop Nicotian to Mr. 
 Walker ; vide Camden's Britannia, Cumberland. 
 Even in the editor's younger days, he can re- 
 member the currency of certain spells for cur- 
 ing sprains, burns, or dislocations, to which 
 popular credulity ascribed unfailing efficacy. I 
 Charms, however, against spiritual enemies, 
 were yet more common than those intended to 
 cure corporal complaints. This is not surpris- 
 ing, as a fantastic remedy well suited an ima- 
 ginary disease. 
 
 There were, upon the borders, many consecra- 
 ted wells, for resorting to which the people's 
 credulity is severely censured by a worthy phy- 
 
 | Among these may be reckoned the supposed 
 influence of Irish earth, in curing the poison of 
 adders, or other venomous reptiles. — This virtue 
 is extended by popular credulity to the natives, 
 and even to the animals, of Hibernia. A gen- 
 tleman, bitten by some reptile, so as to occasion 
 a great swelling, seriously assured the editor, 
 that he ascribed his cure to putting the affected 
 finger into the mouth of an Irish mare ! 
 
BOEDER BALLADS. 
 
 337 
 
 iin of the seventeenth century, who himself ^ implanted in our bosoms by the Deity, teaches 
 
 believed in a shower of living herrings having 
 fallen near Dumfries. " Many run supersti- 
 tiously to other wells, and there obtain, as they 
 imagine, health and advantage; and there they 
 offer bread and cheese, or money, by throwing 
 them into the well." In another part of the 
 MS. cccurs the following passage: "In the 
 bounds of the lands of Eccles, belonging to a 
 'yneage of the name of Maitland, there is a loch 
 called the Dowloch, of old resorted to with much 
 superstition.as medicinal both for men and be asts, 
 and that with such ceremonies, as are shrewdly 
 suspected to have been begun with witchcraft, and 
 increased afterward by magical directions : For, 
 burying of a cloth, or somewhat that did relate to 
 the bodies of men and women, and a shackle, or 
 teather, belonging to cow or horse, and these 
 being cast into the loch, if they did float, it was 
 taken for a good omen of recovery, and a part of 
 the water carried to the patient, though to re- 
 mote places, without saluting or speaking to any 
 they met by the way; but, if they did sink, the 
 recovery of the party was hopeless. This custom 
 ■was of late much curbed and restrained ; but 
 since the discovery of many medicinal fountains 
 near to the place, the vulgar, holding that it may 
 be as medicinal as these are, at this time begin 
 to re-assume their former practice." — Account of 
 Preshytery of Penjnmt, in Macfarlane's MSS. 
 
 The idea, that the spirits of the deceased re- 
 turn to haunt the place, where on earth they 
 have suffered, or have rejoiced, is, as Dr. John- 
 son has observed, common to the popular creed 
 of all nations. The just and noble sentiment, 
 
 f One of the most noted apparitions is sup- 
 posed to haunt Spedlin's castle n ar Lochma- 
 ben, the ancient baronial residence of the Jar- 
 dines of A pplegirth. it is said, that, in exercise 
 of his territorial jurisdiction, one of the ancient 
 lairds had imprisoned, in the Massy More, or 
 dungeon of the castle, a t«rson named Poiteous. 
 Being called suddenly to Edinburgh, the laird 
 discovered, as he entered the West Port, that 
 he had brought along with him the key of the i 
 
 us that we shall not slumber for ever, as the 
 beasts that perish. — Human vanity, or credu- 
 lity, chequers, with its own inferior and base 
 colours, the noble prospect, which is alike held 
 out to us by philosophy and by religion. We 
 feel, according to the ardent expression of the 
 poet, that we shall not wholly die; but from 
 hence we vainly and weakly argue, that the 
 same scenes, the same passions, shall delight 
 and actuate the disembodied spirit, which 
 affected it while in its tenement of clay. Hence 
 the popular belief, that the soul haunts the spot 
 where the murdered body is interred ; that its 
 appearances are directed to bring down ven- 
 geance on its murderers ; or that, having left 
 its terrestrial form in a distant clime, it glides 
 before its former friends, a pale spectre, to warn 
 them of its decease. Such tales, the foundation 
 of which is an argument from our present feel- 
 ings to those of the spiritual world, form the 
 broad and universal basis of the popular super- 
 stition regarding departed spirits ; against which, 
 reason has striven in vain, and universal experi- 
 ence has offered a disregarded testimony. These 
 legends are peculiarly acceptable to barbarous 
 tribes ; and, on the borders, they were received 
 with most unbounded faith. It is true, that 
 these supernatural adversaries were no longer 
 opposed by the sword and battle-axe, as among 
 the unconverted Scandinavians. Prayers, spells, 
 and exorcisrrs, particularly in the Greek and 
 Hebrew languages, were the weapons of the bor- 
 derers, or rather of their priests and cunning 
 men, against their aerial enemy, f The belief 
 
 dungeon. Struck with the utmost horror, he 
 sent back his servant to relieve the i risoner ; 
 but it was too late. The wretched being was 
 found lying upon the steps descending Irom the 
 door of the vault starved to death. In the 
 agonies of hunger, he had gnawed the flesh from 
 one of his arms. That his spectre should haunt 
 the castle, was a natu al consequence of such a 
 tragedy. Indeed its visits became so fr. quent, 
 that a clergyman of emiuence was employed to 
 
338 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 in ghosts, which has beea well termed the last 
 lingering phantom of superstition, still main- 
 tains its ground upon the borders. 
 
 It is unnecessary to mention the superstitious 
 belief in witchcraft, which gave rise to so much 
 cruelty and persecution during the seventeenth 
 century. There were several executions upon 
 the borders for this imaginary crime, which was 
 usually tried not by the ordinary judges, but by 
 
 exorcise it. After a contest of twen ty-four hours, 
 the man of art prevailed so far as to confine the 
 goblin to the Massy More of the castle, where its 
 shrieks and cries are still heard. A part, at 
 least, of the spell, depends upon the preserva- 
 tion of the ancient black-lettered bible, em- 
 ployed by the exorcist. It was some years ago 
 thought necessary to have this bible re-bound; 
 but, as soon as it was removed from the castle, 
 the spectre commenced his nocturnal orgies, 
 with ten-fold noise ; and it is verily believed that 
 he would have burst from his confinement, had 
 not the sacred volume been speedily replaced. 
 
 A Mass John Scott, minister of Peebles, is 
 reported to have been the last renowned exer- 
 ciser, and to have lost his life in a contest with 
 an obstinate spirit. This was owing to the con- 
 ceited rashness of a young clergyman, who com- 
 menced the ceremony of laying the ghost before 
 the arrival of Mass John. It is the nature, it 
 seems, of spirits disembodied, as well as em- 
 bodied, to increase in strength and presump- 
 tion, in proportion to the advantages which they 
 may gain over the opponent. The young clergy- 
 man losing courage, the horrors of the scene 
 were increased to such a degree, that, as Mass 
 John approached the house in which it passed, 
 he beheld the slates and tiles flying from the 
 roof, as it dispersed with a whirlwind. At his 
 entry, he perceived all the wax-tapers (the most 
 essential instruments of conjuration) extin- 
 guished, except one, which already burned blue 
 in the socket The arrival of the experienced 
 sage changed the scene : he brought the spirit to 
 reason , but unfortunately, while addressing a 
 word of advice or censure to his rash brother, he 
 permitted the ghost to obtain the last word; a 
 circumstance which, in all colloquies of this 
 nature, is strictly to be guarded against. This 
 fatal oversight occasioned his falling into a lin- 
 gering disorder, of which he never recovered. 
 
 a set of country gentlemen, acting under -.om- 
 mission from the privy council.f 
 
 Besides these grand articles of superstitious 
 belief, the creed of the borderers admitted the 
 existence of sundry classes of subordinate spirits, 
 to whom were assigned peculiar employments. 
 The chief of these were the Fairies, concerning 
 whom the reader will find a long dissertation in 
 "Volume Second of the Minstrelsy [reprinted in 
 the present work, as an Introduction to the 
 j Fairy Ballads.] The Brownie formed a class of 
 beings, distinct in habit and disposition from 
 the freakish and mischievous elves. He was 
 meagre, shaggy, and wild in his appearance. 
 Thus Cleland, in his satire against the Highland- 
 ers, compares them to 
 
 " Faunes, or Brownies, if ye will, 
 Or satyres come from Atlas Hill." 
 
 In the day time, he lurked in remote reces- 
 ses of the old houses which he delighted to 
 haunt; and, in the night, sedulously employed 
 himself in discharging any laborious task which 
 he thought might be acceptable to the family, 
 to whose service he had devoted himself. His 
 name is probably derived from the Porluni, 
 whom Gervase of Tilbury describes thus: " Ecce 
 enim in Anglia damones quosdam habenl, darrw 
 nes, inquam, nescio dixerim, an secretes et ignota 
 generationis effigies, quos Galli Neplunos, Angli 
 Portunos nominant. litis insitum est quod lim- 
 plicitatem fortunatorum colonorum ampleciuntur, 
 et cum notturnas propter dornesticas operas agunt 
 vigilias, subito clausis januis ad ignem calejiunt, 
 et ranunculos ex sinu prqjectos, prunis impositos 
 concedunt, senili vultu, facie corrugala, statura 
 pusilli, dimidium pollicis non kabentes. Panni- 
 culis consertis induuntur, et si quid geslandum in 
 domofuerit, aut onerosi operis agendum, ad oper- 
 andum se jungunt, citius humana facilitate expe- 
 
 f 1 have seen, penes Hugh Scott, Esq. of Har- 
 den, the record of the trial of a witch, who was 
 burned at Ducove. She was tried in the man- 
 1 ner above mentioned. 
 
BORDER BALLADS. 
 
 330 
 
 diunt. Id illis insitum est, ut obsequi possint et 
 obesse non possint."— Otia Imp. p. 980. In 
 every respect, saving only the feeding upon frogs, 
 ■which was probably an attribute of the Gallic 
 spirits alone, the above description corresponds 
 with that of the Scottish Brownie. But the 
 jatter, although, like Milton's lubbar fiend, he 
 joves to stretch himself by the fire,f does not 
 drudge from the hope of recompense. On the 
 contrary, so delicate is his attachment, that the 
 offer of reward, but particularly of food, infalli- 
 bly occasions his disappearance for ever.i We 
 
 how the drudgin g goblin swet, 
 
 To earn the cream-bowl, duly set: 
 "When, in one night, ere glimpse of morn, 
 His shadowy flail had threshed the corn, 
 That ten day-lab'rers could not end : 
 Then lies h<m down the lubbar fiend, 
 And, stretch'd out all the chimney's length, 
 Basks at the fire his hairy strength : 
 And, crop-full, out of doors he flings, 
 Ere the first cock his mattin rings. 
 
 L' Allegro, 
 
 When the menials in a Scottish family pro- 
 tracted their vigils around the kitchen fire, 
 Brownie, weary of being excluded from the mid- 
 night hearth, sometimes appeared at the door, 
 s.emed to watch their departure, and thus ad- 
 monished them, — " Gang a' to your beds, sirs, 
 and dinna put out the wee grieshoch (embers.)" 
 
 $ It is told of a Brownie, who haunted a bor- 
 der family, now extinct, that the lady having 
 fallen unexpectedly in labour, and the servant, 
 who was ordered to ride to Jedburgh for the 
 sage femme, showing no great alertness in s?t- 
 ting out, the familiar spirit slipt on the great- 
 coat of the lingering domestic, rode to the town 
 on the laird's best horse, and returned with the 
 midwife en croupe. During the short space of 
 his absence, the Tweed, which they must neces- 
 sarily ford, rose to a dangerous height. Brownie, 
 who transported his charge with all the rapidity 
 of the ghostly lover of Lenore, was not to be 
 stopped by this obstacle. He plunged in with 
 the terrified old lady, and landed her in safety 
 where her services were wanted. Having jut 
 the htfrse into the stable (where it was after- 
 wards found in a woeful plight), he proceeded to 
 the room of the servant, whose duty he had dis- 
 charged; and, finding him just in the act of 
 drawing on his boots, he administered to him a 
 most merciless drubbing with his own horse- 
 
 ^ learn from Olaus Magnus, that spirits, somewhat 
 similar in their operations to the Brownie, were 
 supposed to haunt the Swedish mines. The 
 passage, in the translation of 1658, runs thus: 
 " This is collected in briefe, that in rortherne 
 kingdomes, there are great armies of devils, that 
 have their services, which they perform with the 
 inhabitants of these countries: but thiy are 
 most frequently in rocks and mines, where they 
 break, cleave, and make them hollow : which 
 also thrust in pitchers and buckets, and care- 
 fully fit wheels and screws, whereby they are 
 drawn upwards; and they shew themselves to 
 the labourers, when they list, like phantasms 
 and ghosts." It seems no improbable conjec- 
 ture, that the Brownie is a legitimate descend- 
 ant of the Lar Familiaris of the ancients. 
 
 A being, totally distinct from those hitherto 
 mentioned, is the Bogle, or Goblin ; a freakish 
 spirit, who delights rather to perplex and 
 frighten mankind, than either to serve, cr seri- 
 ously to hurt them. This is the Esprit Follet of 
 the French; and Puck, or Robin Goodfellow, 
 though enlisted by Shakespeare among the fairy 
 band of Oberon, properly belongs to this class of 
 phantoms. Shellycoat, a spirit who resides in 
 the waters, and has given his name to many a 
 rock and stone upon the Scottish coast, belongs 
 
 whip. Such an important service excited the 
 gratitude oi the laird; who, understanding that 
 Brownie had been heard to express a wish to 
 have a green coat, ordered a vestment of that 
 colour to be made and left in his haunts. 
 Brownie took away the green coat, but was 
 never seen more. We may suppose, that, tired 
 of his domestic drudgery, he went in his new 
 livery to join the fairies. 
 
 The last Brownie, known in Ettrick forest, 
 resided in B.dsbeck, a wild and solitary spot, 
 where he exercised his functions undisturbed, 
 till the scrupulous devotion of an old lady in- 
 duced her to hire him away, as it was termed, 
 by placing in his haunt a porringer of milk and 
 a piece of money. After receiving this hint to 
 i depart, he was heard the whole night to h..wl 
 I and cry, " Farewell to bonny Bodsheck ! " which 
 S5 he was compelled to abandon for ever. 
 
340 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 also to the class of bogles, f When he appeared, 4} general, observed, that their attachment was 
 
 he seemed to be decked with marine produc- 
 tions, and, in particular, with shells, whose 
 clattering announced his approach. From this 
 circumstance he derived his name. He may, 
 perhaps, be identified with the goblin of the 
 northern English, which, in the towns and 
 cities, Durham and Newcastle for example, had 
 the name of Barguest;% but, in the country 
 villages, was more frequently termed Brag. He 
 usually ended his mischievous frolics with a 
 horse-laugh. 
 
 Shellycoat must not be confounded with Kelpy, 
 a water spirit also, but of a much more power- 
 ful and malignant nature. His attributes have 
 been the subject of a poem in Lowland Scot- 
 tish, by the learned Dr Jamieson of Edinburgh, 
 [given in the present collection.] Of Kelpy, 
 therefore, it is unnecessary to say anything at 
 present. 
 
 Of all these classes of spirits it may be, in 
 
 | One of his pranks is thus narrated : Two 
 men, in a very dark night, approaching the 
 banks of the Ettrick, heard a doleful voice from 
 its waves repeatedly exclaim : — " Lost ! Lost '. " 
 They followed the sound, which seemed to be the 
 (roice of a drowning person, and, to their infinite 
 astonishment, they found that it ascended the 
 river. Still they continued, during a long and 
 tempestuous night, to follow the cry of the mali- 
 cious sprite ; and arriving, before morning's 
 dawn, at the very sources of the river, the voice 
 was now heard descending the opposite side of 
 the mountain in which they arise. The fatigued 
 and deluded travellers now relinquished the pur- 
 suit; and had no sooner done so, than they 
 heard Shellycoat applauding, in loud bursts of 
 laughter, his successful roguery. The spirit was 
 supposed particularly to haunt the old house of 
 Gorinberry, situated on the river Hermitage, in 
 Liddesdale. 
 
 $ This is a sort of spirit peculiar to those towns. 
 He has made his appearance in this very year 
 (1809) in that of York, if the vulgar may be cre- 
 dited. His name is derived by Grose, from his 
 appearing near bars or stiles, but seems rather 
 to come from the German Bahr-Geist, or spirit 
 of the Bier. 
 
 supposed to be local, and not personal. They 
 haunted the rock, the stream, the ruined castle, 
 without regard to the persons or families to 
 whom the property belonged. Hence they dif- 
 fered entirely from that species of spirits, to 
 whom, in the Highlands, is ascribed the guar- 
 dianship, or superintendence of a particular 
 clan, or family of distinction ; and who, perhaps 
 yet more than the Brownie, resemble the classic 
 household gods. Thus, in a MS. history of Mo- 
 ray, we are informed, that the family of Gurlin- 
 beg is haunted by a spirit, called Garlin Boda- 
 cher ; that of the baron of Kinchardin, by Lamh- 
 dearg, § or Red-hand, a spectre, one of whose 
 hands is as red as blood ; that of Tullochgorm, 
 by May Moulach, a female figure, whose left 
 hand and arm were covered with hair, who is 
 also mentioned in Aubrey's Miscellanies, pp. 211, 
 212, as a familiar attendant upon the clan Grant. 
 These superstitions were so ingrafted in the po- 
 pular creed, that the clerical synods and presby- 
 teries were wont to take cognizance of them. || 
 
 "Various other superstitions, regarding magi- 
 cians, spells, prophecies, &c, will claim our 
 attention in the progress of this work. For the 
 
 § The following notice of Lamhdearg occurs in 
 another account of Strathspey, apud Macfarlane's 
 MSS.:— "There is much talke of a spirit called 
 Ly-erg, who frequents the Glenmore. He ap- 
 pears with a red -hand, in the habit of a souldier, 
 and challenges men to fight with him ; as lately 
 as 1669, he fought with three brothers, one after 
 another, who immediately died thereafter." 
 
 || There is current, in some parts of Germany, 
 a fanciful superstition concerning the Stille Valke, 
 or silent people. These they suppose to be at- 
 tached to houses of eminence, and to consist of 
 a number, corresponding to that of the mortal 
 family, each person of which has thus his repre- 
 sentative amongst these domestic spirits. "When 
 the lady of the family has a child, the queen of 
 the silent people is delivered in the same moment. 
 They endeavour to give warning when danger 
 approaches the family, assist in warding it off, 
 and are sometimes seen to weep and wring their 
 ^ hands before inevitable calamity. 
 
BOEDER BALLADS. 
 
 341 
 
 present, therefore, taking the advice of an old 
 Scottish rhymer, let us 
 
 "Leave bogles, brownies, gyre earlinges, and 
 ghaists."f 
 Flyting of Polrvart and Montgomery. 
 
 The domestic economy of the borderers next 
 engages our attention. That the revenue of the 
 chieftain should be expanded in rude hospitality 
 ■was the natural result of his situation. His 
 ■wealth consisted chiefly in herds of cattle, which 
 were consumed by the kinsmen, vassals, and fol- 
 lowers, who aided him to acquire and to protect 
 them 4 "We learn from Lesley, that the bor- 
 derers were temperate in their use of intoxicat- 
 
 t So generally wese those tales of diablerie 
 believed, that one William Lithgow, a bon 
 vivant, who appears to have been a native, or 
 occasional inhabitant^ of Melrose, is celebrated 
 by the pot-companion who composed his elegy, 
 
 He was good company at jeists, 
 
 And waiiton when he came to feists. 
 
 He scjm'd the converse of sreat beasts, 
 O'er a sheep's head: 
 
 He laugh'd at stories about ghaists: 
 Blyth Willie's dead! 
 Watson's Scottish Poems, Edin. 1706. 
 ^ "We may form some idea of the style of life 
 maintained by the border warriors, from the 
 anecdotes, handed down by tradition, concern- 
 ing Walter Scott of Harden, who flourished to- 
 wards the middle of the sixteenth century. This 
 ancient laird was a renowned freebooter, and 
 used to ride with a numerous band of followers. 
 The spoil, which they carried off from England, 
 or from their neigh, ours, was concealed in a 
 deep and impervious glen, on the brink of which 
 the old tower of Harden was situated. From 
 thence the cattle were brought out, one by one, 
 as they were wanted, to supply the rude and 
 plentiful table of the laird. When the last bul- 
 lock was killed and devoured, it was the lady's 
 custom to place on the table a dish, which, on 
 being uncovered, was found to contain a pair of 
 clean spurs, a hint to the riders, that they must 
 shift for their next meal. Upon one occasion, 
 when the village herd was driving out the cattle 
 to pasture, the old laird heard him call loudly, 
 to drive out Hardens cow. " Harden's com! " ' 
 
 ing liquors, and we are therelore left to conjec- 
 ture how they occupied the time, when winter, 
 or when accident, confined them to their habi- 
 tations. The little learning, which existed in 
 the middle ages, glimmered a dim and dy- 
 ing flame in the religious houses ; and even in 
 
 echoed the affronted chief—" Is it come to that 
 pass ? by my faith, they shall sune say Harden's 
 kye," (cows.) Accordingly, he sounded his bugle, 
 mounted his horse, set out with his followers, 
 and returned next day with "a bow of kye, and a 
 bassen'd (brindled) bull." On his return with 
 this gallant prey, he passed a very large hay- 
 stack. It occurred to the provident laird, that 
 this would be extremely convenient to fodder 
 his new stock of cattle ; but as no means of 
 transporting it occurred, he was fain to take 
 leave of it with this apostrophe, now proverbial : 
 " By my soul, had ye but four feet, ye should not 
 stand lang there." In short, as Eroissart says 
 of a similar class of feudal robbers, nothing came 
 amiss to them, that was not too heavy, or too hot. 
 The same mode of house-keeping characterized 
 most border families on both sides. A SIS. 
 quoted in History of Cumberland, p. 466, con- 
 cerning the Graemes of Netherby, and others of 
 that clan, runs thus : " They were all stark moss- 
 troopers and arrant thieves ; both to England 
 at;d Scotland outlawed ; yet sometimes connived 
 at, because they gave intelligence forth of Scot- 
 land, and would raise 400 horse at any time, 
 upon a raid of the EnglLh into Scotland." A 
 saying is recorded of a mother to her son (which 
 is now become proverbial), "Ride, Ruitly (Row- 
 land,) hough's i' the pot ; " that is, the last piece 
 of beef was in the pot, and therefore it was high 
 time for him to go and fetch more. To such 
 men might with justice be applied the poet's 
 descripti-n of the Cretan warrior, translated by 
 my friend, Dr Leyden: 
 
 My sword, my spear, my shaggy shield, 
 With ihese I till, witu these I sow: 
 
 "With these I reap my harvest field, 
 The only wealth the gods bestow. 
 
 "With thes'e I plant the purple vine, 
 
 With these I press the luscious wine. 
 
 My sword, my spear, my shaggy shield, 
 They make me lord of all below: 
 
 For he who dreads the lance to wield, 
 Before my shasgy shield must bow. 
 
 His lands, his vineyards, must resign, 
 
 And all that cowards have is mine. 
 
 Hybrias (ap. Athenaeum.) 
 
342 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 the sixteenth century, when its beams became 
 more widely diffused, they were far from pene- 
 trating the recesses of the border mountains. 
 The tales of tradition, the song, with the pipe or 
 harp of the minstrel, were probably the sole 
 resources against ennui, during the short inter- 
 vals of* repose from military adventure. 
 
 This brings us to the more immediate subject 
 of the present publication. 
 
 Lesley, who dedicates to the description of 
 border manners a chapter, which we have al- 
 ready often quoted, notices particularly the 
 taste of the marchmen for music and ballad 
 poetry. " Placent admodum sibi sua ?nusica, el 
 rythmieis suis cantionibus, quas de majorum suo- 
 rum gestis, aut ingeniosis prcedandi precandive 
 stralagematis ipsi eonfingv.nl." — Lesksus, in ca- 
 pitulo de morhis eorum, qui Scotia limites Ang- 
 Itam versus incolunt. The more rude and wild 
 the state of society, the more general and vio- 
 lent is the impulse received from poetry and 
 music. The muse, whose effusions are the 
 amusement of a very small part of a polished 
 nation, records, in the lays of inspiration, the 
 history, the laws, the very religion, of savages. — 
 Where the pen and the press are wanting, the 
 flow of numbers impresses upon the memory of 
 posterity the deeds and sentiments of their fore- 
 fathers. Verse is naturally connected with 
 mus c ; and, among a rude people, the union is 
 seldom broken. By this natural alliance, the 
 lays, "steeped in the stream of harmony," are 
 more easily retained by the reciter, and produce 
 upon his audience a more impressive effect. 
 Hence, there has hardly been found to ex st a 
 nati n so brutishly rude, as not to listen with 
 enthusiasm to the songs of their bards, recount- 
 ing the exploits of their forefathers, recording 
 their laws and moral precepts, or hymning the 
 praises of their deities. But, where the feelings 
 are frequently stretched to the highest pitch, by 
 the vicissitudes of a life of danger and military 
 adventure, this predisposition of a savage people, 
 to admire their own rude poetry and music, is 
 
 heightened, and its tone becomes peculiarly de 
 termined. It is not the peaceful Hindu at his 
 loom, it is not the timid Ksquimaux in his canoe, 
 whom we must expect to glow at the war-song 
 of Tyrtfeus. The music and the poetry of each 
 country must keep pace with their usual tone of 
 mind, as well as with the state of society. 
 
 The morality of their compositions is deter- 
 mined by the same circumstances. Those themes 
 are necessarily chos<en by the bard, which regard 
 the favourite exploits of the hearers; and he 
 celebrates only those virtues which from infancy 
 he has been taught to admire. Hence, as re- 
 marked by Lesley, the music and songs of the 
 borders were of a military nature, and celebrated 
 the valour and success of their predatory expe- 
 ditions. Eazing, like Shakespeare's pirate, the 
 eighth commandment from the decalogue, the 
 minstrels praised their chieftains for the very 
 exploits, against which the laws of the country 
 denounced a capital doom. — An outlawed free- 
 booter was to them a more interesting person 
 than the King of Scotland exerting his power to 
 punish his depredations; and, when the char- 
 acters are contrasted, the latter is always repre- 
 sented as a ruthless and sanguinary tyrant.— 
 Spenser's descri; tion of the bards of Ireland ap- 
 plies, in some degree, to our ancient border poets. 
 " There is, among the Irish, a certain kinde of 
 people called bardes, which are to them instead 
 of poets ; whose profession is to set forth the 
 praises or dispraises of men, in their poems or 
 rhyn es; the which are had in such high regard 
 or esteem amongst them, that none dare dis- 
 please them, for fear of running into reproach 
 through their offence, and to be made infamous 
 in the mouths of all men ; for their verses are 
 taken up with a general applause, and usually 
 sung at all feasts and meetings, by certain other 
 persons, whose proper function that is, who also 
 receive, for the same, great rewards and reputa- 
 tion amongst them." Spenser, having bestowed 
 due praise upon the poets, who sung the praises 
 of the good and virtuous, informs us, that the 
 
BORDER BALLADS. 
 
 343 
 
 bards, on the contrary, " seldom use to chuse 
 unto themselves the doings of good men for the 
 arguments of their poems; but whomsoever 
 they finde to be most licentious of life, most bold 
 and lawless in his doings, most dangerous and 
 desperate in all parts of disobedience, and rebel- 
 lious disposition, him they set up and glorify in 
 their rhythmes; him they praise to the people, 
 and to young men make an example to follow." 
 —Eudoxus. " I marvail what kind of speeches 
 they can find, or what faces they can put on, to 
 praise such bad persons, as live so lawlessly and 
 licentiously upon stealths and spoyles, as most 
 of them do ; or how they can think that any 
 good mind will applaud or approve the same." 
 In answer to this question, Irenceus, after re- 
 marking the giddy and restless disposition of the 
 ill-educated youth of Ireland, which made them 
 prompt to receive evil counsel, adds, that such a 
 person, " if he shall find any to praise him, and 
 to give him any encouragement, as those bards 
 and rhythmers do, for little reward, or share of 
 a stolen cow, f then waxeth he most insolent, 
 and half-mad, with the love of himself and his 
 own lewd deeds. And as for words to set forth 
 such lewdness, it is not hard for them to give a 
 goodly and painted show thereunto, borrowed 
 even from the praises which are proper to vir- 
 tue itself. As of a most notorious thief, and 
 wicked outlaw, which had lived all his life-time 
 of spoils and robberies, one of their bardes, in 
 his praise, will say, " that he was none of the 
 idle milk-sops that was brought up by their 
 fireside, but that most of his days he spent in 
 arms, and valiant enterprises ; that he never 
 did eat his meat before he had won it with his 
 sword ; that he lay not all night slugging in his 
 
 t The reward of the Welsh bards, and perhaps 
 of those upon the border, was very similar. It 
 was enacted by Howel Dha, that if the king's 
 bard played before a body of warriors, upon a 
 predatory excursion, he should receive, in recom- 
 pence, the best cow which the party carried off. 
 — Leges Walliae, 1. 1. cap. 19. 
 
 cabin under his mantle, but used commonly to 
 keep others waking to defend their lives, and 
 did light his candle at the flames of their houses 
 to lead him in the darkness ; that the day was 
 his night, and the night his day; that he loved 
 not to be long wooing of wenches to yield to 
 him ; but, where he came, he took by force the 
 spoil of other men's love, and left but lamenta- 
 tions to their lovers; that his music was not the 
 harp, nor lays of love, but the cries of people, 
 and clashing of armour; and finally, that he 
 died, not bewailed of many, but made many 
 wail when he died, that dearly bought his dtath. 
 Do not you think, Eudoxus, that many of these 
 praises might be applied to men of best deserts ? 
 Yet are they all yielded to a most notable 
 traitor, and amongst some of the Irish not 
 smally accounted of." — State of Ireland. The 
 same concurrence of circumstances, so well 
 pointed out by Spenser, as dictating the topics 
 of the Irish bards, tuned the border harps to the 
 praise of an outlawed Armstrong, or Murray. 
 
 For similar reasons, flowing from the state of 
 society, the reader must not expect to find, in 
 the border ballads, refined sentiment, and, far 
 less, elegant expression ; although the style of 
 such compositions has, in modern hands, been 
 found highly susceptible of both. But passages 
 might be pointed out, in which the rude mins- 
 trel has melted in natural pathos, or risen into 
 rude energy. Even where these graces are to- 
 tally wanting, the interest of the stories them- 
 selves, and the curious picture of manners which 
 they frequently present, authorise them to claim 
 some respect from the public 
 
344 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 ©1)* W>aUU of OtUxlwmt. 
 
 THE SCOTTISH EDITION. 
 
 [" The followingedition of the Battle of Otter- 
 bourne," says Sir Walter Scott, "being essen- 
 tially different from that which is published in 
 the Reliques of Ancient Poetry, vol. i., and being 
 obviously of Scottish composition, claims a place 
 in the present collection, [Minstrelsy of the 
 Scottish Border.] The particulars of that 
 noted action are related by Froissart, with 
 the highest encomium upon the valour of the 
 combatants on each side. James, earl of Doug- 
 las, with his brother, the earl of Murray, in 
 13S7 invaded Northumberland, at the head of 
 3000 men ; while the earls of Fife and Strathern, 
 sons to the kins of Scotland, ravaged the west- 
 ern borders of England, with a still more nume- 
 rous army. Douglas penetrated as far as New- 
 castle, where the renowned Hotspur lay in gar- 
 rison. In a skirmish before the walls, Percy's 
 lance, with the pennon, or guidon, attached to 
 it, was taken by Douglas, as most authors affirm, 
 in a personal encounter betwixt the two heroes. 
 The earl shook the pennon aloft, and swore he 
 would carry it as his spoil into Scotland, and 
 plant it upon his castle of Dalkeith. ' That,' 
 answered Percy, ' shalt thou never ! ' — Accord- 
 ingly, having collected the forces of the marches, 
 to a number equal, or (according to the Scot- 
 tish historians) much superior, to the army of 
 Douglas, Hotspur made a night attack upon the 
 Scottish camp, at Otterbourne, about thirty-two 
 miles from Newcastle. An action took place, 
 fought by moon-light, with uncommon gallan- 
 try and desperation . At length, Douglas, armed 
 with an iron mace, which few but he could 
 wield, rushed into the thickest of the English 
 battalions, followed only by his chaplain, and 
 two squires of his body, f Before his followers 
 could come up, their brave leader was stretched 
 on the ground, with three mortal wounds: his 
 squires lay dead by his side; the priest alone, 
 armed with a lance, was protecting his master 
 from farther injury. ' I die like my forefathers,' 
 said the expiring hero, ' in a field of battle, and 
 
 f Their names were Robert Hait and Simon Glen- 
 dinning. The chaplain was Richard Lundie, after- 
 wards archdean of Aberdeen. — Godscroft. Hart, 
 according to Wintoun, was a knight. That historian 
 »ays, no one knew how Douglas fell. 
 
 not on a bed of sickness. Conceal my death, 
 defend my standard, } and avenge my fall ! it is 
 an old prophecy, that a dead man shall gain a 
 field, § and I hope it will be accomplished this 
 night.' — Godscroft. — With these words he ex- 
 pired ; and the fight was renewed with double 
 obstinacy around his body. When morning ap- 
 peared, however, victory began to incline to the 
 Scottish side. Ralph Percy, brother to Hotspur, 
 was made prisoner by the earl Marischal, and 
 shortly after, Harry Percy || himself was taken 
 by lord Montgomery. The number of captives, 
 according to Wintoun, nearly equalled that of 
 the victors. Up n this the English retired, and 
 left the Scots masters of the dear-bought hon- 
 ours of the field. But the bishop of Durham 
 approaching, at the head of a b idy of fresh for- 
 ces, not only checked the pursuit of the victors, 
 but made prisoners of s >me of the stragglers, 
 who had urged the chase too far. The battle 
 was not, however, renewed, as the bishop of 
 Durham did not venture to attempt the rescue 
 of Percy. The field was fought 15th August, 
 1388.— Forduii, Froissart, Hoi Unshed, Godscroft. 
 " The ground on which this memorable engage- 
 ment took place, is now [edition of the Mins- 
 trelsy, 1812,] the property of John Davidson, 
 Esq. of Newcastle, and still retains the name of 
 Battle Cross. A cross, erroneous y termed Percy's 
 Cross, has been erected u. on the spo£ where tne 
 gallant earl of Douglas is supposed to have fallen. 
 The castle of Otterbourne, which was besieged by 
 Douglas, with its demesne lands, is now [edit, lit 
 supra] the property of James Kllis, Esq. who is 
 also proprietor of a neighbouring eminence called 
 Fawdoun-hill, on which may yet be discerned the 
 vestiges of the Scottish ca i p, agreeing with the 
 description of the ballad, ' They lighted high on 
 Otterbourne.' Earl's Meadows, Containing a 
 fine spring called Percy's well, a. e a part of the 
 same gentleman's grounds, and probably derive 
 their name from the battle. The camp on Faw- 
 doun-hill is a mile distant from Battle Crofts, 
 
 t The b-inner 
 
 of Do 
 
 H. 
 
 
 th 
 
 s m 
 
 emorable 
 
 uc- 
 
 casion, was bor 
 
 le by hi- u; 
 
 
 A re 
 
 ni. aid 1).. 
 
 
 las, ancestor of 
 
 the tain 
 
 ily< 
 
 t'Cave 
 
 •s. 
 
 ere 
 
 litary she 
 
 uta 
 
 ot Teviotdale. 
 
 •unon" 
 
 t whose a 
 
 oh 
 
 ves 
 
 this glurl 
 
 IUS 
 
 relique is still 
 
 ure-e. 
 
 ed. 
 
 The 
 
 
 at 
 
 his oii-e 
 
 . is 
 
 said to have charged 1 
 
 13 s 
 
 jn to 
 
 ot. 
 
 2nd 
 
 it to the last 
 
 drop of his blood. 
 
 § This prophecy occurs in the ballad as an omi- 
 nous dream. 
 
 || Hotspur, for his ransom, built the castle of Pe- 
 noon, in Ayrshire, belonging to the family of Mout- 
 ' goinery, now earls of Eguniouu. 
 
BORDER BALLADS. 
 
 3i5 
 
 but it must be remembered that the various i 
 changes of position and of fortune during so 
 long and fierce an engagement between two 
 considerable armies, must have extended the 
 conflict over all the vicinity. 
 
 '• The ballad, published in the Reliques, is avow- 
 edly an English production; and the author, 
 with a natural partiality, leans to the side of his 
 countrymen ; yet that ballad, or some one simi- 
 lar, modified probably by national prejudice, 
 must have been current in Scotland during the 
 reign of James VI.: for Godscroft, in treating 
 of this battle, mentions its having been the sub- 
 ject of popular song, and proceeds thus: 'But 
 that which is commonly sung of the Hunting of 
 Cheviot, seemeth indeed poetical, and a mere 
 fiction, perhaps to stir up virtue ; yet a fiction 
 whereoi there is no mention, either in the Scot- 
 tish or English Chronicle. Neither are the 
 songs that are made of them, both one ; for the 
 Scots Song made of Otterbourne, telleth the time, 
 about Lammas ; and also the occasion, to take 
 preys out of England; also the dividing the 
 armies betwixt the earls of Eife and Douglas, 
 and their several journies, almost as in the 
 authentic history. It beginneth thus : 
 
 ' It fell about the Lammas tide, 
 "\Yheu yeomen vrin their hay, 
 The dociity Douglas 'gan to tide, 
 
 In England to take a prey.' 
 Godscroft, ed. Edin. 1743. vol. i. p. 195. 
 
 I cannot venture to assert, that the stanzas, 
 here published, belong to the ballad alluded to 
 by Godscroft; but they come much nearer to his 
 description than the copy published in the first 
 edition, which represented Douglas as falling by 
 the poniard of a faithless page. Yet we learn 
 from the same author, that the story of the ass- 
 assination was not Without foundation in tradi- 
 tion.—' There are that say, that he (Douglas) 
 was not slain by the enemy, but by one of his 
 own men, a groom of his chamber, whom he 
 had struck the day before with a truncheon, in 
 ordering of the battle, because he saw him make 
 somewhat slowly to. And they name this man 
 John Biekerton of Luffness, who left a part of 
 nis armour behind unfastened, and when he was 
 in the greatest conflict, this servant of his came 
 behind his back, and slew him thereat/ — Gods- 
 crojl, ut supra. — ' But this narrat.on,' adds the 
 historian, ' is not so probable.' j- Indeed it 
 
 r Wiutcun assigns another caiue for Doug.. la being 
 Saieiessly armed : 
 
 ^ seems to have no foundation, but the common 
 desire of assigning some remote and extraor- 
 dinary cause for the death of a great man. The 
 following ballad is also inaccurate in many other 
 particulars, and is much shorter, and more in- 
 distinct, than that printed in the Reliques, al- 
 though many verses are almost the same. Hots- 
 pur, for instance, is called Earl Percy, a title he 
 never enjoyed. Neither was Douglas buried on 
 the field of battle, but in ilelrose Abbey, where 
 his tomb is still shown. 
 
 " This song was first published from jHr Herd's 
 Collection of Scottish Songs and Ballads, Edin. 
 1774, 2 vols, octavo ; but two recited copies have 
 fortunately been obtained from the recitation of 
 old persons residing at the head of Ettrick For- 
 est, by which the story is brought out, and com- 
 pleted in a manner much more correspondent to 
 the true history. 
 
 "I cannot dismiss the subject of the battle of 
 Otterbourne, without stating (with all the de- 
 ference due to the father of this species of litera- 
 ture) some doubts which have occurred to an 
 ingenious correspondent, and an excellent anti- 
 quary, concerning the remarks on the names 
 subjoined to the ballads of Chevy Chase and 
 Otterbourne in the Reliques of Ancient Poetry. 
 
 '" Johnde Lovele, sheriff of .Northumberland, 
 34th Hen. VII.,' is evidently a mistake, as 
 Henry VII. did not reign quite twenty-four 
 years ; but the person meant was probably John 
 de Lavale, knight, of Delavale castle, who was 
 sheriff, 34th Henry VIII. There seems little 
 doubt that the person called in the ballad " the 
 gentil Lovel,' sir Raff the rich Rugbe, was pro- 
 bably sir Ralph .Neville of Raby castle, son of 
 the first earl of "Westmoreland, and cousin -ger- 
 man to Hotspur. In the more modern edition 
 of the ballad, he is expressly called sir Ralph 
 Rabby, i. e. of Raby. 
 
 "With respect to the march of Douglas, as 
 described in the ballad, it appears that he 
 entered Northumberland from the westward. 
 Redesdale, Rothely -crags, and Green Leighton, 
 are a few miles eastward of Otterbourne. Otter- 
 scope-hill lies south-west from Green Leighton. 
 
 "The erle Jamys was sa besy, 
 For til ordane his company; 
 And en his lays for to pas, 
 That reckles he of his armyng was : 
 The erle of Mwrrawys bassenet, 
 Thai sayd, at thol tyme was ieriyhete." 
 
 Book ViU. Chap. 7. 
 The circumstance of Dongla* 1 omitting to put on 
 his ueimet occurs in the ballad. 
 
34G 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 " The celebrated Hotspur, son of the firstearl of & 
 Northumberland, was, in 1385, governor of Ber- 
 wick, and warden of the east marches ; in which 
 last capacity it was his duty to repel the invasion 
 of Douglas. 
 
 " Sir Henry Fitzhugh, mentioned in the ballad, 
 was one of the earl of Northumberland's com- 
 manders at the battle of Homeldown. 
 
 " As to the local situation of Otterbourne, it is 
 thirty statute miles from Newcastle, though 
 Buchanan has diminished the distance to eight 
 miles only. 
 
 " The account given of Sir John of Agurstone 
 seems also liable to some doubt. This personage 
 is there supposed to have been one of the Hager- 
 stones of Hagerston, a Northumbrian family, 
 who, according to the fate of war, were some- 
 times subjects of Scotland. 1 cannot, h .wever, 
 think, that at this period, while the English 
 were in possession both of Berwick and Rox- 
 burgh, with the intermediate fortresses of Wark, 
 Cornhill, and Norhani, the Scots possessed any 
 pait of Northumberland, much less a manor 
 which lay within that strong chain of castles. 
 I should presume the person alluded to rather 
 to have been one of the Rutherfords, barons of 
 Edgerstane, or Edgeiston, a warlike family, 
 which has long flourished on the Scottish bor- 
 ders, and who were, at this very period, retain- 
 ers of the house of Douglas. The same notes 
 contain an account of the other Scottish war- 
 riors of distinction, who were present at the 
 battle. These were, the eals of Monteith, 
 Buchan, and Huntly; the barons of Maxwell 
 and Jwhnston ; Swinton of that ilk, an ancient 
 family, which about that period produced several 
 distinguished warriors; Sir David (or rather, as 
 the learned editior well remarks, Sir Walter) 
 Scott of Buccleuch, Stewart of Garlies, and 
 Murray of Cockpool. 
 
 Regibua et legilms Scotici constantes, 
 Voa c.ypeis et g'a iis pro patna puguantes, 
 Vesira c.-,t victoria, vi-stra e-t et gluna, 
 In cautu et his o.'ia, peipea eat meuioiia! "] 
 
 It fell about the Lammas tide, 
 
 "When the muir-men win, their hay, 
 
 The doughty earl of Douglas rode 
 Into England, to catch a prey. 
 
 He chose the Gordons and the Grsemos, 
 With them the Lindesays, light and gay ; 
 
 But the Jardines wald not with him ride, 
 And they rue it to this day.f 
 
 And he has burn'd the dales of Tyne, 
 And part of Bambrough shire ; 
 
 And three good towers on Roxburgh fells. 
 He left them all on fire. 
 
 t The Gordons, Graemes, Lindesays, Jardines. — 
 The illustrious family of Gordon was originally 
 settled upon the lands of Gordon and Huntly, in 
 the shire of Berwick, and are, therefore, of bor- 
 der extraction. The steps by which they re- 
 moved from thence to the shires of Aberdeen 
 and Inverness, are worthy notice. In 1300, Adam 
 de Gordon was warden of the marches. — Rymer, 
 vol. ii. p. 870. He obtained, from Robert the 
 Bruce, a grant of the forfeited estate of David de 
 Strathbolgie, Earl of Athol; but no possession 
 followed, the earl having returned to his alle- 
 giance. — John de Gordon, his great-grandson, 
 obtained, from Robert II., a new charter of the 
 lands of Strathbolgie, which had been once 
 more and finally forfeited, by David, Earl of 
 Athol, slain in the battle of Kilblane. This 
 grant is dated 13th July, 1376. John de Gor- 
 don, who was destined to transfer, from the bor- 
 ders of England to those of the Highlands, a 
 powerful and martial race, was himself a re- 
 doubted warrior, and many of his exploits occur 
 in the annals of that turbulent period. In 
 1371-2, the English borderers invaded and plun- 
 dered the lands of Gordon, on the Scottish east 
 march. Sir John of Gordon retaliated, by an 
 incursion on Northumberland, where he col- 
 lected much spoil. But, as he returned with 
 his booty, he was attacked at unawares, by Sir 
 John Lillburne, a Northumbrian, who, with a 
 superior force, lay near Carham in ambush, to 
 intercept him. Gordon harangued and cheered 
 his followers, charged the English gallantly, 
 and, after having himself been five times in 
 great peril, gained a complete victory; slaying 
 many southerns, and taking their leader and 
 his brother captive. According to the prior of 
 Lochlevin, he was desperately wounded; but 
 
 " There rays a wells grete renowne, 
 And gretly pryayd wea gud Gordiiwn." 
 
 Shortly after this exploit, Sir John of Gordon 
 encountered and routed Sir Thomas Musgrave, 
 a renowned English marchman, whom he made 
 prisoner. The lord of Johnstone had, about the 
 same time, gained a great advantage on the 
 \V< west border ; and hence, says Wyntoun, 
 
BORDER BALLADS. 
 
 347 
 
 And he march'd up to Newcastle, 
 And rode it round about ; 
 
 " O wha's the lord of this castle, 
 Or wha's the lady o't ? " 
 
 sfe But up spake proud Lord Percy, then, 
 
 And O but he spake hie ! 
 
 " I am the lord of this castle, 
 
 My wife's the lady gay." 
 
 He and the Lord of Gordowne 
 Had a soverane gud renown, 
 Of ony that war of thare degre, 
 For fall thai war of gret bounte. 
 
 Upon another occasion, John of Gordon is 
 said to have partially succeeded in the surprisal 
 of the town of Berwick, although the superio- 
 rity of the garrison obliged him to relinquish 
 his enterprise. 
 
 The ballad is accurate, in introducing this 
 warrior, with his clan, into the host of Douglas 
 at Otterbourne. Perhaps, as he was in posses- 
 sion of his extensive northern domains, he 
 brought to the field the northern broad-swords, 
 as well as the lances of his eastern borderers. 
 With his gallant leader, he lost his life in the 
 deadly conflict. The English ballad comme- 
 morates his valour and prudence ; 
 
 " The Erie of Huntly, cawte and kene." 
 
 But the title is a premature designation. The 
 earldom of Huntly was first conferred on Alex- 
 ander Seaton, who married the grand-daughter 
 of the hero of Otterbourne, and assumed his 
 title from Huntly, in the north. Besides his 
 eldest son Adam, who earned on the line of the 
 family, Sir John de Gordon left two sons, known 
 in tradition by the familiar names of Jock and 
 Tarn. The f rmer was the ancestor of the Gor- 
 dons of Pitlurg ; the latter of those of Lesmoir, 
 and of Craig-Gordon. This last family is now 
 represented by James Gordon, Esq. of Craig, 
 being the eleventh, in direct descent, from Sir 
 John de Gordon. 
 
 The clan of Graeme, always numerous and 
 powerful upon the border, were of Scottish ori- 
 gin, and deduce the descent of their chieftain, 
 Gra?me of Netherby, from John with the bright 
 sword, a son of Malice Graeme, Earl of Menteith, 
 who flourished in the fourteenth century. Lat- 
 terly, they became Englishmen, as the phrase 
 went, and settled upon the Debateable Land, 
 whence they were transported to Ireland, by 
 James VI., with the exception of a very few res- 
 pectable families ; " because," said his majesty 
 in a proclamation, "they do all (but especially 
 the Graemes) confess themselves to be no meet 
 
 persons to live in these countries; and also to 
 the intent their lands may be inhabited by 
 others, of good and honest conversation." But, 
 in the reign of Henry IV., the Graemes of the 
 border still adhered to the Scottish allegiance, 
 as appears from the tower of Graeme in Annan - 
 dale, Graeme's "Walls in Tweeddale, and other 
 castles within Scotland, to which they have 
 given their name. The reader is, however, at 
 liberty to suppose, that the Graemes of the Len- 
 nox and Menteith, always ready to shed their 
 blood in the cause of their country, on this oc- 
 casion joined Douglas. 
 
 The chief of this ancient family, at the date of 
 the battle of Otterbourne, was David Lindissay, 
 lord of Glenesk, afterwards created earl of Craw- 
 ford. He was, after the manner of the times, a 
 most accomplished knight. He survived the 
 battle of Otterbourne, and the succeeding car- 
 nage of Homildon. In May, 1390, he went to 
 England, to seek adventures of chivalry; and 
 justed, ui on London Bridge, against the lord of 
 "Wells, an English knight, with so much skill 
 and success, as to excite among the spectators a 
 suspicion that he was tied to his saddle ; which 
 he removed, by riding up to the royal chair, 
 vaulting out of his saddle, and resuming his 
 seat without assistance, although loaded with 
 complete armour. In 1392, Lindsay was nearly 
 slain in a strange manner. A band of Catter- 
 ans, or wild Highlanders, had broken down from 
 the Grampian Hills, and were engaged in plun- 
 dering the county of Angus. Walter Ogilvy, 
 the sheriff, with Sir Patrick Gray, marched 
 against them, and were joined by Sir David 
 Lindsay. Their whole retinue did not exceed 
 sixty men, and the Highlanders were above 
 three hundred. Nevertheless, trusting to the 
 superiority of arms and discipline, the knights 
 rushed on the invaders, at Gasclune, in the 
 Stormont. The issue was unfortunate. Ogilvy, 
 his brother, and many of his kindred, were 
 overpowered and slain. Lindsay, armed at all 
 points, made great slaughter among the nakeJ 
 Catterans ; but, as he pinned one of them to the 
 earth with his lance, the dying mountaineer 
 writhed upwards, and, collecting his force, 
 fetched a blow with his broad-sword, which cut 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 348 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 "If thou'rt the lord of this castle, & " The Otterbourne's a bonnie burn ; 
 
 
 
 Sae weel it pleases me ! 
 
 •Tis pleasant there to be ; 
 
 
 
 For, ere 1 cross the border fells, 
 
 But there is nought at Otterbourne, 
 
 
 
 The tane of us shall die." 
 
 To feed my men and me. 
 
 
 
 He took a lang spear in his hand, 
 
 "The deer rins wild on hill and dale, 
 
 
 
 Shod with the metal free, 
 
 The birds fly wild from tree to tree,- 
 
 
 
 And for to meet the Douglas there, 
 
 But there is neither bread nor kale, 
 
 
 
 He rode right furiouslie. 
 
 To fend £ my men and me. 
 
 
 
 But how pale his lady look'd 
 
 "Yet I will stay at Otterbourne, 
 
 
 
 Frae aff the castle wa', 
 
 Where you shall welcome be ; 
 
 
 
 When down, before the Scottish spear, 
 
 And, if ye come not at three dayis end, 
 
 
 
 She saw proud Percy fa*. 
 
 A fause lord I'll ca' thee." 
 
 
 
 " Had we twa been upon the green, 
 
 "Thither will I come," proud Percy said, 
 
 
 
 And never an eye to see, 
 
 " By the might of Our Ladye ! " 
 
 
 
 I wad hae had jou flesh and fell; f 
 
 " There will I bide thee," said the Douglas, 
 
 
 
 But your sword sail gae wi' me." 
 
 " My trowth I plight to thee." 
 
 
 
 " But gae ye up to Otterbourne, 
 
 They lighted high on Otterbourne, 
 
 
 
 And wait ther; dayis three; 
 
 Upon the bent sae brown ; 
 
 
 
 And, if I come not ere three dayis end, 
 
 They lighted high on Otterbourne, 
 
 
 
 A fause knight ca' ye me." 
 
 And threw their pallions down. 
 
 And he that had a bonnie boy, 
 Pent out his horse to grass ; § 
 And he that had not a bonnie boy, 
 
 
 
 
 through the knight's stirrup-leather and steel- 
 
 
 
 boot, and nearly severed his leg. The High- 
 
 
 
 lander expired, and Lindsay was with difficulty 
 
 His ain servant he was. 
 
 
 
 bone out of the field by his followers. — Wyn- 
 
 
 
 
 town. Lindsay is also noted for a retort, made 
 
 But up then spake a little page, 
 
 
 
 to the famous Hotspur. At a march-meeting, 
 
 Before the peep of dawn — 
 
 
 
 at Haldane-Stank, he happened to obs.-rve, that 
 
 " waken ye, waken ye, n:y good lord, 
 
 
 
 Percy was sheathed in complete armour. "It 
 
 For Percy's hard at hand." 
 
 
 
 ■ is for fear of the English horsemen ," said Percy, 
 
 
 
 
 in explanation : for he was already meditating 
 
 " Ye lie, ye lie, ye liar loud ! 
 
 
 
 the insurrection immortalised by Shakespeare. 
 
 Sae loud I hear ye lie : 
 
 
 
 "Ah ! Sir Harry," answered Lindsay, "I have 
 
 For Percy had no men yestreen, 
 
 
 
 seen ynu more sorely bestad by Scottish footmen 
 
 To dight my men and me. 
 
 
 
 than by English horse." — Wyntorvn. Such was 
 
 
 
 
 the leader of the " Lindsays light and gay." 
 
 "But I hae dream'd a dreary dream, 
 
 
 
 According to Froissart, there were three Lind- 
 
 Beyond the Isle of Sky ; 
 
 
 
 says in the battle of Otterbourne, whom he calls 
 
 I saw a dead man win a fight, 
 
 
 
 Sir William, Sir James, and Sir Alexander. 
 
 And I think that man was I." 
 
 
 
 A "strange chance of war" which befel Sir 
 
 
 
 
 James Lindsay, is recorded in Froissart'i Chroni- 
 
 $ Fend. — Support. 
 
 
 
 cle, translated by Bourchier, Lord Berners, vol. i. 
 
 § Froissart describes a Scottish host, of the 
 
 
 
 chap. 146. 
 
 same period, as consisting of " IIII. M. men of 
 
 
 
 The Jardines were a clan of hardy west-bor- 
 
 armes, knightis, and squires, mounted on good 
 
 
 
 der men. Their chief was Jardine of Apple- 
 
 horses ; and other X. M. men of wane armed, 
 
 
 
 girth Their refusal to ride with Douglas was, 
 
 after their gyse, right hardy and firse, mounted 
 
 
 
 probably, the result of one of those perpetual feuds, 
 
 on lytle hackneys, the whiche were never tied, 
 
 
 
 which usually rent to pieces a Scottish army. 
 
 nor kept at hard meat, but lette go to pasture 
 
 
 
 f Fell. — Hide. Douglas insinuates, that Percy 
 
 in the fieldis and bushes." — Ckronykle of Frois- 
 
 
 
 was rescued by his soldiers. 
 
 •& sart, translated by Lord Berners, Chap. xvii. 
 
 
 
BORDEE BALLADS. 
 
 349 
 
 He belted on his good braid sword, 
 
 And to the field he ran ; 
 But he forgot the helmet good, 
 
 That should have kept his brain. 
 
 "When Percy wi' the Douglas met, 
 
 I wat he was fu' fain ! 
 They swakked their swords, till sair they swat, 
 
 And the blood ran down like rain. 
 
 But Percy with his good broad sword, 
 
 That could so sharply wound, 
 Has wounded Douglas on the brow, 
 
 Till he fell to the ground. 
 
 Then he call'd on his little foot-page, 
 
 And said — " Eun speedilie, 
 And fetch my ain dear sister's son, 
 
 Sir Hugh Montgomery." 
 
 " My nephew good," the Douglas said, 
 " What recks the death of ane ! 
 
 Last night I dream 'd a dreary dream, 
 And I ken the day's thy ain. 
 
 " My wound is deep ; I fain would sleep ; 
 
 Take thou the vanguard of the three, 
 And hide me by the braken bush, 
 
 That grows on yonder lilye lee. 
 
 " O bury me by the braken bush, 
 
 Beneath the blooming briar, 
 Let never living mortal ken, 
 
 That ere a kindly Scot lies here.' 
 
 He lifted up that noble lord, 
 
 Wi' the saut tear in his e'e ; 
 He hid him in the braken bush, 
 
 That his merric men might not see. 
 
 The moon was clear, the day drew near, 
 
 The spears in Hinders flew, 
 But mony a gallant Englishman 
 
 Ere day the Scotsmen slew. 
 
 The Gordons good, in English blood, 
 They steep'd their hose and shoon ; 
 
 The Lindsays flew like fire about, 
 Till all the fray was done. 
 
 The Percy and Montgomery met, 
 
 That either of other were fain; 
 They swakked swords, and they twa swat, 
 
 And aye the blude ran down between. 
 
 "Yield thee, O yield thee, Percy ! " he said, 
 " Or else I vow I'll lay thee low ! " 
 
 " Whom to shall I yield," said Earl Percy, 
 " Now that I see it must be so ? " 
 
 " Thou shalt not yield to lord nor loun, 
 
 Nor yet shalt thou yield to me ; 
 But yield thee to the braken bush, f 
 
 That grows upon yon lilye lee '. " 
 
 " I will not yield to a braken bush, 
 
 Nor yet will I yield to a briar ; 
 But I would yield to Earl Douglas, 
 
 Or Sir Hugh the Montgomery, if he were here." 
 
 As soon as he knew it was Montgomery, 
 He stuck his sword's point in the gronde ; 
 
 And the Montgomery was a courteous knight, 
 And quickly took him by the honde. 
 
 This deed was done at Otterbourne, 
 About the breaking of the day ; 
 
 Earl Douglas was buried at the brake/i bush, 
 And the Percy led captive away. 
 
 %\t ©ufrlaSoi JUStounrag, 
 
 [From Scott's Minstrelsy.—" This ballad," says 
 Sir Walter, " appears to have been composed 
 about the reign of Jamts V. It ci mmemorates 
 a transaction, supposed to have taken place be- 
 twixt a Scottish monarch, and an ancestor of 
 the ancient family of Murray of Philiphaugh, in 
 Selkirkshire. The editor is unable to ascertain 
 the historical foundation of the tale; nor is it 
 probable that auy light can be thrown upon the 
 sulject, without an accurate examination of the 
 family charter chest. It is certain, that, during 
 the civil wars betwixt Bruce and Baliol, the 
 family of Pbiiiphaugh existed, and was power- 
 ful , for their anctstor, Archibald de Moravia, 
 subscribes the oath of fealty to Edward I. a. n. 
 1296. It is, therefore, not unlikely, that, resid- 
 ing in a wild and frontier country, they may 
 have, at one period or other, during these com- 
 motions, refused allegiance to the feeble n on- 
 arch of the day, and thus extorted from him 
 some grant of territory or jurisdiction. It is 
 also certain, that, by a charter fr^m James IV., 
 
 f Braken — Fern. 
 
350 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 dated November 30, 1509, John Murray of Phi-^ 
 liphaugh is vested with the dignity of heritable 
 sheriff of Ettrick Forest, an office held by his 
 descendants till the final abolition of such juris- 
 dictions by 28th George II., cap. 23. But it 
 seems difficult to believe, that the circumstances 
 mentioned in the ballad could occur under the 
 reign of so vigorous a monarch as James IV. 
 It is true, that the Dramatis Penuna; introduced 
 seem to refer to the end of the fifteenth, or be- 
 ginning of the sixteenth century ; but from this 
 it can only be argued, that the author himself 
 lived soon after that period. It may, therefore, 
 be supposed (unless farther evidence can be pro- 
 duced, tending to invalidate the conclusion,) 
 that the bard, willing to pay his court to the 
 family, has connected the giant of the sheriff- 
 ship by James IV., with some further dispute 
 betwixt the Murrays of Philiphaugh and their 
 sovereign, occurring, either while they were 
 en.aged upon the side of Baliol, or in the subse- 
 quent reigns of David 11. and Robert II. and 
 III., when the English possessed great part of 
 the Scottish frontier, and the rest was in so law- 
 less a state as hardly to acknowledge any supe- 
 rior. At the same time, this reasoning is not 
 absolutely conclusive. James IV. had particu- 
 lar reasons for desiring that Ettrick Forest, 
 which actually formed part of the jointure lands 
 of Margaret, his queen, should be kept in a state 
 of tranquillity.— Rymer, vol. XIII. p. 66. In 
 order to accomplish this object, it was natural 
 for him, according to the policy of his predeces- 
 sors, to invest one great family with the power 
 of keeping order among the rest. It is even pro- 
 bable, that the Philiphaugh family may have 
 had claims upon part of the lordship of Ettrick 
 Forest, which lay intermingled with their own 
 extensive possessions ; and, in the course of 
 arranging, not indeed the feudal superiority, but 
 the property, of these lands, a dispute may have 
 arisen, of sufficient importance to be the ground- 
 work of a ballad. — It is farther probable, that 
 the Murrays, like other border clans, were in a 
 very lawless state, and held their lands merely 
 by occupancy, without any feudal right. In- 
 deed, the lands of the various proprietors in Et- 
 trick Forest (being a royal demesne) were held 
 by the possessors, not in property, but as the 
 Kindly tenants, or rentallers, of the crown ; and 
 it is only about 150 years since they obtained 
 charters, striking the feu-duty of each proprietor, 
 at the rate of the quit-rent which he formerly 
 paid. The state of possession naturally led to a ^ 
 
 confusion of rights and claims. The kings of 
 Scotland were often reduced to the humiliating 
 necessity of compromising such matters with 
 their rebellious iubjects.and James himself even 
 entered into a sort of league with Johnie Faa, 
 the king of the gypsies.— Perhaps, therefore, the 
 tradition handed down in this song, may have 
 had more foundation than it would at present be 
 proper positively to assert. 
 
 The merit of this beautiful old tale, it is 
 thought, will he fully acknowledged. It has 
 been, for ages, a popular sung in Selkirkshire. 
 The scene is, by the common people, supposed 
 to have been the castle of Newark upon Yarrow. 
 This is highly improbablp, because Newark was 
 always a royal fortress. Indeed, the late excel- 
 lent antiquarian, Mr Plummer.i sheriff depute of 
 Selkirkshire, has assured the editor, that he re- 
 membered the insignia of the unicorns, &c, so 
 often mentioned in the ballad, in existence upon 
 the old tower at Hangingshaw, the seat of the 
 Philiphaugh family; although, upon first perus- 
 ing a copy of the ballad, he was inclined to sub- 
 scribe to the popular opinion. The tower of 
 Hangingshaw has been demolished for many 
 years. It stood in a romantic and solitary situa- 
 tion, on the classical banks of the Yarrow. 
 When the mountains around Hangingshaw 
 were covered with the wild copse which consti- 
 tuted a Scottish forest, a more secure strong- 
 hold for an outlawed baron can hardly be ima- 
 gined. 
 
 The tradition of Ettrick Forest bears, that the 
 Outlaw was a man of prodigious strength, pos- 
 sessing a batton or club, with which he laid lee 
 (i. e. waste) the country for many miles round; 
 and that he was at length slain by Buccleuch, or 
 some of his clan, at a little mount, covered with 
 fir-trees, adjoining to Newark castle, and said to 
 have been a part of the garden. A varying tra- 
 dition bears the place of his death to have been 
 near to the house of the duke of Buccleuch'g 
 game-keeper, beneath the castle; and that the 
 fatal arrow was shot by Scott of Haining, from 
 the ruins of a cottage on the opposite side of the 
 Yarrow. There were extant, within these 
 twenty years, some verses of a song on his death. 
 The feud betwixt the Outlaw and the Scotts may 
 serve to explain the asperity with which the 
 chieftain of that clan is handled in the ballad. 
 
 In publishing the following ballad, the copy 
 principally resorted to is one, apparently of con- 
 siderable antiquity, which was found among the 
 papers of the late Mrs Coekburn of Edinburgh, 
 
BORDER BALLADS. 
 
 351 
 
 a lady whose memory will be long honoured by 
 all who knew her. Another copy, much more 
 imperfect, is to be found in Glenriddel's MdS. 
 The names are in this last miserably mangled, as 
 is always the case when ballads are taken down 
 from the recitation of persons living at a dis- 
 tance from the scenes in which they are laid. 
 Mr Plummer also gave the editor a few addi- 
 tional verses, not contained in either copy, which 
 are thrown into what seemed their proper place. 
 There is yet another copy, in Mr Herd's MSS., 
 which has been occasionally made use of. Two 
 ve.ses are restored in the present edition, from 
 the recitation of Mr Mungo Park, whose toils, 
 du.ing his patient and intrepid travels in Af- 
 rica, have not eradicated from his recollection 
 the legendary lore of his native country. 
 
 The arms of the Philiphaugh family are said 
 by tradition to allude to their outlawed state. 
 They are indeed those of a huntsman, and are 
 blazoned thus : Argent, a hunting horn sable, 
 stringtd and garnished gules, on a chief azure, 
 three stars of the first. Crest, a Demi Forester, 
 winding his horn, proper. Motto, Hinc usque 
 superna venabor.] 
 Ettricke Foreste is a feir foreste, 
 
 In it grows manie a semelie trie ; 
 There's hart and hynd, and dae and rae, 
 
 And of a' wilde teastes grete plentie. 
 
 There's a feir castelle, bigged wi' lyme and stane ; 
 
 U : gin it stands not pleasauntlie ! 
 In the forefront o' that castelle feir, 
 
 Twa unicorns are bra' to see; 
 There's the picture of a knight, and a ladye bright, 
 
 And the grene hollm abune their brie.f 
 
 There an Outlaw keepis five hundred men; 
 
 He keepis a royalle companie ! 
 His merryerr.en are a' in ae liverye clad, 
 
 O' the L nkoms grene saye gaye to see ; 
 He and his ladye in purple clad, 
 
 ! gin they lived n<_t 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. 
 
 ' 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 Scotlonde that Outlaw sail be ! " 
 
 t Brow. 
 
 Then spak 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 refuse 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 gay ladye." 
 
 The king then call'd a gentleman, [was he) § 
 James Buyde, (the earl of Arran his brother 
 
 When James he cam before the king, 
 He knelit befor 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; 
 
 " Ask him of whom he haldis his landis, 
 
 Or man, wha may his master be, 
 And desyre him cum, and be my man, 
 
 And hald of me yon Foreste frie. 
 
 "To Edinburgh to cum and gang, 
 
 His safe warrant I sail gie; 
 And gif he refuses to do that, 
 
 We'll conquess baith his landis and he. 
 
 " Thou may'st vow I'll cast his castell down, 
 And mak a widowe o' his gay ladye ; 
 
 I'll hang his merryemen, payr by payr, 
 In ony frith where I may them see." 
 
 $ This is, in most copies, the earl hight Hamil- 
 ton, which must be a mistake of the reciters, as 
 the family did not enjoy that title till 1503 
 
 § 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 rest* red, and in favour with 
 James IV. about 1482. If this be the person 
 here meant, we should read, "The Earl of Ar- 
 ran his son was he." Glenriddel's copy reads, 
 "a highland laird I'm sure was he." Reciters 
 ^ sometimes call the u essenger the laird of akene. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 352 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 James Boyd tuik his leave o' the nobil king, 
 
 " He desyres you'l cum to Edinburgh, 
 
 
 
 To Ettricke Foreste feir cam he ; 
 
 And hauld of him this Foreste frie; 
 
 
 
 Down Birkendale Brae when that he camf 
 
 And, gif ye refuse to do this, 
 
 
 
 He saw the feir Foreste wi' his e'e. 
 
 He'll conquess baith thy landis and thee. 
 He hath vow'd to cast thy eastell down, 
 
 
 
 Baith dae and rae, and hart and hinde, 
 
 And mak a widowe o' thy gaye ladye ; 
 
 
 
 And of a' wilde beastis great plentie; 
 
 
 
 
 He heard the bows that bauldly ring, 
 
 " He'll hang thy merryemen, payr by payr, 
 
 
 
 And arrows whidderan' bym near bi. 
 
 In ony frith where he may them finde." 
 " Aye, by my troth ! " the Outlaw said, 
 
 
 
 Of that feir castsll he got a sight; 
 
 " Than wald I thinke me far behind*;. 
 
 
 
 The like he neir saw wi' his e'e! 
 
 
 
 
 On the fore front o' that eastell feir, 
 
 " Ere the king my feir countrie get, 
 
 
 
 Twa unicorns were gaye to see ; 
 
 This land that's nativest to me ! 
 
 
 
 . The picture of a knight, and lady bright, 
 
 Mony o' his nobliis sail be cauld, 
 
 
 
 And the grene hollin abune their brie. 
 
 Their ladyes sail be right wearie." 
 
 
 
 Thereat he spyed five hundred men, 
 
 Then spak his ladye, feir of face, 
 
 
 
 Shuting with bows on Newark Lee ; 
 They were a' in ae livery clad, 
 
 She seyd, "Without consent of me, 
 
 
 
 That an Outlaw suld cum befor a king ; 
 
 
 
 0' the Lineome grene sae gaye to see 
 
 I am right rad § of treasonrie. 
 Bid him be gude to his lordis at hame, 
 
 
 
 His men were a' clad in the grene, 
 
 For Edinburgh my lord sail nevir see." 
 
 
 
 The knight was armed capapie, 
 
 
 
 
 With a bended bow, on a milk-white steed ; 
 
 James Boyd tuik his leave o' the Outlaw kene, 
 
 
 
 And I wot they ranked right bonnilie. 
 
 To Edinburgh boun is he ; 
 When James he cam before the king, 
 
 
 
 Tiierby Boyd kend he was master man, 
 
 He knelit lowlie on his kne. 
 
 
 
 And serv'd him in his ain degre. 
 
 
 
 
 " G-od mot thee save, braw Outlaw Murray ! 
 
 " Welcum, James Boyd ! " seyd our nobil king ; 
 
 
 
 Thy ladye, and all thy chyvalrie !" 
 
 " What Foreste is Ettricke Foreste frie ? " 
 
 
 
 "Marry, thou's wellcum, gentleman, 
 
 " Ettricke Foreste is the feirest foreste 
 
 
 
 Some king's messenger thou seemis to be." 
 
 That evir man saw wi' his e'e. 
 
 
 
 " The king of Scotlonde sent me here, 
 
 " There's the dae, the rae, the hart, the hynde, 
 
 
 
 And, gude Outlaw, I am sent to thee ; 
 
 And of a' wild beastis grete plentie; 
 
 
 
 I wad wot of whom ye haUl your landis, 
 
 There's a pretty eastell of lyme and stane, 
 
 
 
 Or man, wha may thy master be ? " 
 
 gif it standis not pleasauntlie ! 
 
 
 
 " Thir landis are mine ! " the Outlaw said ; 
 
 " There's in the forefront o' that eastell, 
 
 
 
 " I ken nae king in Christentie ; 
 
 Twa unicorns, sae bra' to see ; 
 
 
 
 Frae Soudron i. I this Foreste wan, 
 
 There's the picture of a knight, and aladye bright, 
 
 
 
 "Whan the king nor his knightis were not to see." 
 
 Wi' the grene hollin abune their brie. 
 " There the Outlaw keepis five hundred men, 
 
 
 f Birkendale Brae, now commonly called Bir- 
 
 
 kendallly, is a steep descent on the south side of 
 
 He keepis a royalle cumpanie ! 
 
 
 
 Minch-moor, which separates Tweeddale from 
 
 His merrymen in ae livery clad, 
 
 
 
 Ettrick Forest; and from the top of which you 
 
 0' the Linkome grene sae gaye to see : 
 
 
 
 have the first view of the woods of Hanging- 
 
 He and his ladye in purple clad ; 
 
 
 
 shaw, the castle of Newark, and the romantic 
 dale of Yareow. 
 
 ! gin they live not royallie ! 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 | Southern, or English. ^ 
 
 ' ? § Afraid. 
 
 
 
BORDER BALLADS. 
 
 353 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " Gar -warn me Perthshire, and Angus baith ; 
 
 Fife up and downe, and Louthians three, 
 And graith my h >rse ! " 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 countrie, 
 To conquess baith his landls 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 Coiebead f 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 ? " 
 
 " Not as ye wad ; seeking your aide; 
 The king's his mortal enemie." 
 
 " Aye, 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! " 
 
 The Outlaw call'd a messenger, 
 
 And bid him hie him speedilye, 
 To Andrew Murray of (Jockpool — | 
 
 " That man's a deir cousin to me ; 
 
 ^fe Desyre him cum, and mak me ayd, 
 
 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 cam right speedilye — 
 " What news? What news?" James Murrav said, 
 
 " Man, frae thy master unto me ? " 
 
 " What neids T tell ? for weell ye ken, 
 
 The king's his mortal enemie ; 
 And now he is coming to Ettricke Foreste, 
 
 And landless men ye a' will be." 
 
 "And, by my trothe," 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." 
 
 f This is a place at the head of Moffat-water, 
 possessed of old by the family of Halliday. 
 
 t This family were ancestors of the Murrays, 
 earls of Annandale ; but the name of the repre- 
 
 sentative, in the time of James IV. was William, 
 not Andrew. Glenriddel's MS. reads, "the 
 country-keeper." 
 
 § Before the barony of Traquair became the 
 property of the Stewarts, it belonged to a family 
 of Murrays, afterwards Murrays of Black-barony, 
 and ancestors of lord Elibank. The old castle 
 was situated on the Tweed. The lands of Tra- 
 quair were forfeited by Willielmus de Moravia, 
 previous to 1464; for, in that year, a charter, 
 proceeding upon his forfeiture, was granted by 
 the crown " Willielmo Douglas de Cluny." Sir 
 James was, perhaps, the heir of William Mur- 
 ray. It would farther seem, that the grant in 
 1464 was not made effectual by Douglas ; for, 
 another chapter from the crown, dated the 3d 
 February, 1478, conveys the estate of Traquair 
 to James Stewart, earl of Buchan, son to the 
 black knight of Lome, and maternal uncle to 
 James HI., from whom is descended the present 
 earl of Traquair. The first royal grant not 
 being followed by possession, it is very possible 
 that the Murrays may have continued to occupy 
 Traquair long after the date of that charter. 
 Hence, Sir James might have reason to say, as in 
 the ballad, " The king has gifted my lands lang 
 syne." 
 
 ; 
 
354 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 The king was cuming through 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. 
 
 " Desyre him mete thee at Permanscore, 
 And bring four in his cumpanie ; 
 
 Five erles sail gang yoursel' befor, 
 
 Gude cause that you suld honour'd 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 trie." 
 
 Then spak' the kene laird of Buckscleuth, 
 A stalworthye 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 ! 
 Wherfore, biayd on, my sovereign liege ! 
 
 Wi' fire and sword we'll follow thee; 
 Or, gif your courtrie lords fa' back, 
 
 Our borderers sail the onset gi'e." 
 
 Then out and spak' the nobil king, 
 And round him cast a wilie e'e — 
 
 "Now had thy tongue, Sir "Walter Scott, 
 Nor speik of reif nor felonie : 
 
 For, had everye honeste man his awin kye, 
 A right pure clan thy name wad be !" 
 
 The king then call'd a gentleman, 
 Royal banner-bearer there was he ; 
 
 James Hop Pringle of Torsonse, by name; f 
 He cam' and knelit upon his knee. 
 
 * A ford on the Tweed, at the mouth of the 
 Caddon Burn, near Yair. — Scott. 
 
 f The honourable name of Pringle, or Hop- 
 pringle, is of great antiquity in Roxburghshire 
 and Selkirkshire. The old tower of Torsonse is 
 situated upon the banks of the Gala. I believe 
 the Pringles of Torsonse are now represented by 
 Sir John Pringle of Stitchell. There are three 
 other ancient and distinguished families of this 
 name; those of Whitebank, Clifton, and Tor- 
 woodlee. — Scott. 
 
 " Wellcum, James Pringle of Toreonse ! 
 
 A message ye maun gang for me ; 
 
 Ye maun gae to yon Outlaw Murray, 
 
 Surely where bauldly bideth he. 
 
 " Bid him mete me at Permanscore, 
 And bring four in his cumpanie; 
 
 Five erles sail cum wi' mysel', 
 Gude reason 1 suld honour'd be. 
 
 " And, gif he refuses to do that, 
 Bid him luke for nae good o' me ! 
 
 There sail nevir a Murray, after him, 
 Have land in Ettricke Foreste frie." 
 
 James cam' before the Outlaw kene, 
 And serv'd him in his ain degree — 
 
 " Welcum, James Pringle of Torsonse! 
 What message frae the king to me?" 
 
 " He bids ye mete him at Permanscore,}: 
 And bring four in your cumpanie; 
 
 Five erles sail gang himsel' befor, 
 Nae mair in number will he be. 
 
 " And, gif you refuse to do that, 
 
 (I freely here upgive wi' thee) 
 He'll cast yon bonnie castle down, 
 
 And make a widowe o' that gay layde. 
 
 " He'll loose yon bluidhound borderers, 
 Wi' fire and sword to follow thee; 
 
 There will nevir a Murray, after thysel', 
 Have land in Ettricke Foreste frie." 
 
 " It stands me hard," the Outlaw said; 
 
 "Judge gif it stands na hard wi' me; 
 Wha reck not losing of mysel', 
 
 But a' my offspring after me. 
 
 " My merryemen's lives, my widowe's teirs — 
 There lies the pang that pinches me; 
 
 When I am straught in bluidie eard, 
 Yon castell will be right dreirie. 
 
 " Auld Halliday, young Halliday, 
 
 Ye sail be twa to gang wi' me ; 
 Andrew Murray, and Sir James Murray, 
 
 We'll be nae mae in cumpanie." 
 
 $ 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 of 
 Minch-moor. It is the outermost point of the 
 lands of Broadmeadows. — Scott. 
 
BOEDER BALLADS. 
 
 355 
 
 ■When that they cam' before the king, 
 They fell befor him on their knee — 
 
 " Grant mercie, mereie, nobil king! 
 E'en for his sake that dyed on trie." 
 
 " Sicken like mercie sail ye have ; 
 
 On gallows ye sail hangit be !" 
 u Over God's forbode," quo' 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 feir, 
 
 1 wan them from the enemie; 
 Like a9 I wan them, sae will 1 keep them, 
 
 Contrair a' kingis in Christentie " 
 
 All the nobilis the king about, 
 
 Said pitie it were to see him dee — 
 
 " Yet graunt me mercie, sovereign prince ! 
 Extend your favour unto me! 
 
 " I'll give thee the keys of my castell, 
 Wi' the blessing o' my gaye ladye, 
 
 Gin thou'lt make me sheriffe of this foreste, 
 And a' my offspring after me." 
 
 " "Wilt thou give me the keys of thy castell, 
 "Wi' the blessing of thy gaye ladye ? 
 
 I'se make thee sheriffe of Ettricke Foreste, 
 Surely while upward grows the trie ; 
 
 If ycu be not traitour to the king, 
 Forfaulted sail thou nevir be." 
 
 " 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. 
 
 * In this and the following verse, the cere- 
 mony of feudal investiture is supposed to be gone 
 through, by tne outlaw resigning his possessions 
 into the hands of the king, and receiving them 
 back to be held of him as superior. The lands of 
 
 " And I have native steads to me, 
 The Newark Lee and Hangingshaw ; 
 
 1 have mony steads in the foreste shaw, 
 But them by name I dinna knaw." 
 
 The keys o' 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 trie ; 
 
 And if he was na traitour to the king, 
 Forfaulted he suld nevir be. 
 
 "Wha ever heard, in ony times, 
 
 Sicken an outlaw in his degree, 
 Sic favour get bei'or a king, 
 
 As did the outlaw Murray of the foreste frie ? 
 
 [" The Armstrongs appear to have been at an 
 early period in possession of great part of Lid- 
 desdale, and of the Debateable Land. Their 
 j immediate neighbourhood to England rendertd 
 j them the most lawless of the border depreda- 
 tors; and, as much of the country possessed by 
 them was claimed by both kingdoms, the inhabi 
 tants, protected from justice by the one nation 
 in opposition to the other, securely preyed upon 
 both. The chief was Armstrong of Mangertoun 
 but, at a later period, they are declared a 
 broken clan, i. e. one which had no lawful head, 
 to become surety for their good behaviour. The 
 rapacity of this clan, and of their allies, the 
 Elliots, occasioned the popular saying, ' Elliots 
 and Armstrongs ride thieves all.' But to what 
 border family of note, in former days, would not 
 such an adage have been equally applicable ? 
 All along the river Liddel may still be discovered 
 the ruins of towers, possessed by this numerous 
 clan. They did not, however, entirely trust to 
 these fastnesses ; but, when attacked by a supe- 
 rior force, abandoned entirely their dwellings, 
 and retired into morasses, accessible by paths 
 known to themselves alone. One of their most 
 noted places of refuge was the Tarras Moss, a 
 desolate and horrible marsh, through which a 
 small river takes its course. Upon its banks 
 
 Philiphaugh are still possessed by the outlaw's 
 representative. Hangingshaw and Lewinshope 
 were sold of late years. Newark, Foulshiels, 
 
 j and Tinnies, have long belonged to the family of 
 
 ,- Buccleuch.— Scott. 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 356 
 
 are found some dry spot9, which were occupied ,i[ 
 by these outlaws, and their families, in cases of 
 emergency. The stream runs furiously among 
 huge rocks, which has occasioned a popular 
 saying — 
 
 Was ne'er ane drown'd in Tarras, nor yet in 
 doubt, 
 
 For e'er the head can win down, the hams 
 (brains) are out. 
 The morass itself is so deep, that, according to 
 an old historian, two spears tied together would 
 not reach the bottom. 
 
 "Johnnie Armstrong, of Gilnockie, the hero 
 of the following bullad, is a noted personage, 
 both in history and tradition. He was, it would 
 seem from the ballad, a brother of the laird of 
 Mangertoun, chief of the name. His place of 
 residence (now a roofless tower) was at the Hal- 
 lows, a few miles from Langholm, where its 
 ruins still serve to adorn a scene, which, in na- 
 tural beauty, has few equals in Scotland. At 
 the head of a desperate band of free-booters, 
 this Armstrong is said to have spread the terror 
 of his name almost as far as Newcastle, and to 
 have levied black mail, or protection and forbear- 
 ance money, for many miles round. James V., 
 of whom it was long remembered by his grateful 
 people that he made the 'rush-bush keep the 
 cow,' about 1529, undertook an expedition 
 through the border counties, to suppress the 
 turbulent spirit of the marehmen. But, before 
 setting out upon his journey, he took the pre- 
 caution of imprisoning the different border 
 chieftains, who were the chief protectors of the 
 marauders. The earl of Bothwell was forfeited, 
 and confined in Edinburgh castle. The lords 
 of Home and Maxwell, the lairds of Buccleuch, 
 Fairniherst, and J ohnston, with many others, 
 were also committed to ward. Cockburn of 
 Henderland, and Adam Scott of Tushielaw, 
 called the King of the Border, were publicly exe- 
 cuted. — Lesley, p. 430. The king then march- 
 ed rapidly forward, at the head of a flying army 
 of ten thousand men, through Ettrick forest 
 and Ewsdale. The evil genius of our Johnnie 
 Armstrong, or, as others say, the private advice 
 of some courtiers, prompted him to present 
 himself before James, at the head of thirty-six 
 horse, arrayed in all the pomp of border chivalry. 
 Pitseottie uses nearly the words of the ballad in 
 describing the splendour of his equipment, and 
 his high expectations of favour from the king. 
 ' TSut James, looking upon him sternly, said to 
 
 his attendants, "What wants that knave that a 
 king should have ? and ordered him and his fol- 
 lowers to instant execution.' — ' But John Arm- 
 strong,' continues this minute historian, ' made 
 great offers to the king. That he should sustain 
 himself, with forty gentlemen, ever ready at his 
 service, on their own cost, without wronging 
 any Scotchman : Secondly, that there was not a 
 subject in England, duke, earl, or baron, but, 
 within a certain day, he should bring him to his 
 majesty, either quick or dead. At length he, 
 seeing no hope of favour, said very proudly, " It 
 is folly to seek grace at a graceless face: but," 
 said he, " had I known this, I should have lived 
 upon the border in despite of king Harry and you 
 both ; for I know king Harry would down-weigh 
 my best horse with gold, to know tliat I were con- 
 demned to die this day."'— Pitscottie's History, 
 p. 145. Johnnie, with all his retinue, was accord- 
 ingly hanged upon growing trees, at a place 
 called Carlenrig chapel, above ten miles above 
 Hawick, on the high road to Langholm. The 
 country people believe, that, to manifest the in- 
 justice of the execution, the trees withered away. 
 Armstrong and his followers were buried in a 
 deserted church-yard, where their graves are still 
 shown. As this border hero was a person of 
 great note in his way, he is frequently alluded to 
 by the writers of the time. Sir David Lindsay 
 of the Mount, in the curious play published by 
 Mr Pinkerton, from the Bannatyne MS., intro- 
 duces a pardoner, or knavish dealer in reliques, 
 who produces, among his holy rarities — 
 
 ' The cordis, baith grit and lang, 
 
 Quhilt hangit Johnie Armistrang, 
 
 Of gude hemp, soft and sound. 
 Gude haly pepill, I stand ford, 
 "Wha'evir beis hangit in this cord, 
 
 Neidis never to be drowned !' 
 Pinkerton' s Scottish Poems, vol. II. p. 69. 
 
 In The Complaynt of Scotland, John Armi- 
 strangis* dance, mentioned as a popular tune, 
 has probably some reference to our hero. The 
 common people of the high parts of Tiviotdale, 
 Liddesdale, and the country adjacent, hold the 
 memory of Johnnie Armstrong in very high re- 
 spect. They affirm also, that one of his atten- 
 dants broke through the king's guard, and car- 
 ried to Gilnockie Tower the news of the bloody 
 catastrophe. 
 
 " This song was first published by Allan Ram- 
 say, in his Evergreen, who says, he copied it from 
 % the mouth of a gentleman, called Armstrong, 
 

 
 
 BORDER BALLADS. 35*7 
 
 who was in the sixth generation from this John. ' 
 
 The reciter assured him, that this was the 1 
 
 genuine old ballad, the common one false."— | 
 
 Scott's Minstrelsy.] | 
 
 V " Away, away, thou traitor Strang ! 
 
 Out o' my sight soon may'st thou be! 
 I grantit nevir a traitor's life, 
 
 And now I'll not begin wi' thee !" 
 
 
 Some speikis of lords, some speikis of lairds, 
 And sick lyke men of hie degrie ; 
 
 Of a gentleman I sing a sang, 
 
 Sum tyme called laird of Gilnockie. 
 
 " Grant me my life, my liege, my king ! 
 
 And a bonnie gift I'll gi'e to thee — 
 Gude four-and-twenty ganging mills, 
 
 That gang through a' the yeir to me. 
 
 
 The king he wrytes a luving letter, 
 With his ain hand sae tenderly, 
 
 And he hath sent it to Johnnie Armstrang, 
 To cum and speik with him speedily. 
 
 " These four-and-twenty mills complete, 
 Sail gang for thee through a' the yeir ; 
 
 And as mickle of gude reid wheit, 
 As a' their happers dow to bear." 
 
 
 The EHots and Armstrangs did convene ; 
 
 They were a gallant cumpanie — 
 " We'll ride and meit our lawful king, 
 
 And bring him safe to Gilnockie." 
 
 " Away, away, thou traitor Strang ! 
 
 Out o* my sight soon may : st thou be ! 
 I grantit nevir a traitor's life, 
 
 And now I'll not begin wi' thee." 
 
 
 " Make kinnen and capon ready then, 
 And venison in great plentie ; 
 
 We'll weleum here our royal king; 
 1 hope he'll dine at Gilnockie !" 
 
 " Grant me my life, my liege, my king ! 
 
 And a great gift I'll gi'e to thee — 
 Bauld four-and-twenty sister's sons, 
 
 Sail for thee fecht, though a' should flee !" 
 
 
 They ran their horse on the Langholme howm, 
 And brak their spears wi' muckle main ; 
 
 The ladies lukit frae their loft windows — 
 " God bring our men weel back agen !" 
 
 " Away, away, thou traitor Strang ! 
 
 Out o' my sight soon may'st thou be ! 
 I grantit nevir a traitor's life, 
 
 And now I'll not begin wi' thee." 
 
 
 When Johnnie cam' before the king, 
 Wi' a' his men sae brave to see, 
 
 The king he movit his bonnet to him ; 
 He ween'd he was a king as well as he. 
 
 " Grant me my life, my liege, my king ! 
 
 And a brave gift I'll gre to thee — 
 All between heir and Newcastle town 
 
 Sail pay their yeirly rent to thee." 
 
 
 " May I find grace, my sovereign liege, 
 Grace for my loyal men and me ? 
 
 For my name it is Johnnie Armstrang, 
 And subject of your's, my liege," said he. 
 
 " Away, away, thou traitor Strang ! 
 
 Out o' my sight soon may'st thou be ! 
 I grantit nevir a traitor's life, 
 
 And now I'll not begin with thee." 
 
 
 " Away, away, thou traitor Strang ! 
 
 Out o' my sight soon may'st thou be ! 
 I grantit nevir a traitor's life, 
 
 And now I'll not begin with thee." 
 
 " Ye lied, ye lied, now, king," he says, 
 " Although a king and prince ye be ! 
 
 For I've luved naething in my life, 
 I weel dare say, but honesty — 
 
 
 " Grant me my life, my liege, my king ! 
 
 And a bonnie gift I'll gi'e to thee — 
 Full four-and-twenty milk-white steids, 
 
 Were a' foaled in ae year to me. 
 
 *' Save a fat horse, and a fair woman, 
 
 Twa bonnie dogs to kill a deir ; 
 But England suld have found me meal and 
 
 Gif I had lived this hundred yeir ! [mault, 
 
 
 " I'll gi'e thee a' these milk-white steids, 
 That prance and nicker at a speir ; 
 
 And as mickle gude Inglish gilt, 
 
 As four o' their braid backs dow bear." i 
 
 " Sche suld have found me meal and mault, 
 
 And beef and mutton in a plentie ; 
 
 But nevir a Scots wyfe could have said, 
 
 ft That e'er I skaithed her a pure flee. 
 
 
 
 
358 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 " To seik het water beneith cauld ice, 
 
 Surely it is a greit folie— 
 I have asked grace at a graceless face, 
 
 But there is nane for my men and me ! 
 
 " But had I kenn'd ere I cam* frae hame, 
 How thou unkind wadst been to me! 
 
 I wad have keepit the border side, 
 In spite of all thy force and thee. 
 
 " "Wist England's king that I was ta'en, 
 
 O gin a blythe man he wad be ! 
 For anes I, slew his sister's son, 
 
 And on his breist bane brak a trie." 
 
 John wore a girdle about his middle, 
 Imbroidered ower wi' burning gold, 
 
 Bespangled wi' the same metal ; 
 Maist beautiful was to behold — 
 
 There hang nine targets at Johnnie's hat, 
 And ilk ane worth three hundred pound — 
 
 " What wants that knave that a king suld have, 
 But the sword of honour and the crown ! 
 
 " whar got thou these targets, Johnnie, • 
 That blink sae brawly abune thy brie?" 
 
 " I gat them in the field fechting, 
 
 Where, cruel king, thou durst not be. 
 
 " Had I my horse, and harness gude, 
 
 And riding as I wont to be, 
 It suld have been tauld this hundred yeir, 
 
 The meeting of my king and me ! 
 
 " God be with thee, Kirsty, my brother ! 
 
 Lang live thou laird of Mangertoun ! 
 Lang may'st thou live on the border syde, 
 
 Ere thou see thy brother ride up and down ! 
 
 " And God be with thee, Kirsty, my son, 
 Where th u sits on thy nurse's knee ! 
 
 But and thou live this hundred yeir, 
 Thy father's better thou'lt nevir be. 
 
 " Farewell ! my bonnie Gilnock hall, 
 Where on Esk side thou standest stout! 
 
 Gif I had lived but seven yeirs mair, 
 I wad ha'e gilt thee round about." 
 
 John murdered was at Carlinrigg, 
 
 And all his gallant eompanie ; 
 But Scotland's heart was ne'er sae wae, 
 
 To see sae mony brave men dee — 
 
 Because they saved their country deir 
 Frae Englishmen ! Nane were sae bauld 
 
 While Johnie lived on the border syde, 
 Nane of them durst cum neir his hauld. 
 
 JOHNNIE ARMSTRONG'S LAST GOOD- 
 NIGHT. 
 
 [This is what Ramsay calls the " common" 
 ballad of Johnnie Armstrong. (See close of in- 
 troduction to previous ballad ) Motherwell says 
 that he never heard the above set of Johnnie 
 Armstrong sung or recited among the common 
 people, but that he had often heard the present 
 one. In old broadsides, the title of this ballad 
 runs thus: "Johnnie Armstrong's last good- 
 night, showing how John Armstrong with his 
 eight-score men fought a bloody battle with the 
 Scotch king at Edenborough." In English col- 
 lections, there is another ballad wherein a Sir 
 John Armstrong figures as the hero. This latter 
 is entitled, " A pleasant Ballad, showing how 
 two valiant knights, Sir John Armstrong and 
 Sir Michael Musgrave, fell in love with the beau- 
 tiful daughter of the Lady Dacres in the North, 
 and of the great strife that happened between 
 them for her, and how they wrought the death of 
 one hundred men."] 
 
 Is there ever a man in all Scotland, 
 
 From the highest estate to the lowest de- 
 gree, 
 
 That can show himself before our king, 
 Scotland is so full of treachery ? 
 
 Yes, there is a man in Westmoreland, 
 
 And Johnny Armstrong they do him call, 
 
 He has no lands or rents coming in, 
 
 Yet he keeps eight-score men within hii 
 hall. 
 
 He has horses and harness for them all, 
 And goodly steeds that be milk-white, 
 
 With their goodly belts about their necks, 
 With hats and feathers all alike. 
 
 The king he writes a loving letter, 
 And with his own hand so tenderly, 
 ] And hath sent it unto Johnny Armstrong, 
 To come and speak with him speedily. 
 
BOEDER BALLADS. 
 
 359 
 
 When John he look'd this letter upon, 
 He look'd as blythe as a bird in a tree, 
 
 I was never before a king in my life, 
 
 My father, my grandfather, nor none of us 
 three. 
 
 But seeing we must go before the king, 
 
 Lord we will go most gallantly, 
 Te shall every one have a velvet coat, 
 
 Laid down with golden laces three. 
 
 And every one shall have a scarlet cloak, 
 
 Laid down with silver laces five, 
 "With your golden belts about your necks, 
 
 "With hats and feathers all alike. 
 
 But when Johnny went from Giltnock-hall, 
 The wind it blew hard, and full fast it did 
 
 Sow fare thee well, thou Giltnock-hall, 
 I fear I shall never see thee again. 
 
 Now Johnny he is to Edenborough gone, 
 "With his eightseore men so gallantly, 
 
 And every one of them on a milk-white steed, 
 With their bucklers and swords hanging to 
 their knee. 
 
 But when John came the king before, 
 
 With his eightseore men so gallant to see, 
 
 The king he mov'd his bonnet to him, 
 
 He thought he had been a king as well as 
 he. 
 
 pardon, pardon, my sovereign liege, 
 Pardon for my eightseore men and me ; 
 
 For my name it is Johnny Armstrong, 
 And subject of your's, my liege, said he. 
 
 Away with thee, thou false traitor, 
 
 JSo pardon will 1 grant to thee, 
 But to-morrow morning by eight of the clock, 
 
 I will hang up thy eightseore men and thee. 
 
 Then Johnny look'd over his left shoulder, 
 And to his merry men thus said he, 
 
 1 have ask'd grace of a graceless face, 
 
 So pardon there is for you and me. 
 
 Then John pull'd out his goo 1 broad sword, 
 That was made of the mettle so free, 
 
 Had not the king moved his foot as he did, 
 
 John had taken his head from his fair || 
 body. a 
 
 Come, follow me, my merry men all, 
 "We will scorn one foot for to flee, 
 
 It shall never be said we were hang'd like dogs, 
 We will fight it out most manfully. 
 
 Then they fought on like champions bold, 
 For their hearts were sturdy, stout and 
 free, 
 Till they had kUl'd all the king's good guard ; 
 There were none left alive but one, two, or 
 three. 
 
 But then rose up all Edenborough, 
 They rose up by thousands three, 
 
 A cowardly Scot came John behind, 
 And run him through the fair body. 
 
 Said John, Fight on, my merry men all, 
 I am little wounded but am not slain, 
 
 I will lay me down and bleed a-while, 
 Then I'll rise and fight again. 
 
 Then they fought on like mad men all, 
 Till many a man lay dead on the plain, 
 
 For they were resolved before they would yield, 
 That every man would there be slain. 
 
 So there they fought courageously, 
 
 'Till most of them lay dead there and slain, 
 But little ilusgrave, that was his foot-page, 
 
 With his bonnie grissel got away unta'en. 
 
 But when he came to Giltnock-hall, 
 
 The lady spied him presently, 
 What news, what news, thou little foot -page, 
 
 What news from thy master and his com- 
 pany ? 
 
 My news is bad, lady, he said, 
 
 Which I do bring, as you may see ; 
 
 My master Johnny Armstrong is slain, 
 And £.11 his gallant company. 
 
 Tet thou art welcome home, my bonnie grissel, 
 
 Full oft hast thou been fed with corn anj 
 
 hay, 
 
 But now thou shalt be fed with bread and wine, 
 
 And thy sides shall be spurr'd no more, I 
 
 say. 
 
 then bespoke his little son, 
 
 As he sat on his nurse's knee, 
 If ever I live to be a man, 
 
 My father's death reveng'd shall be. 
 
360 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 ARMSTRONG'S GOODNIGHT. 
 
 [The following verses are said to have been 
 composed by one of the Armstrongs, executed 
 for the murder of Sir John Carmichael of Edrom, 
 warden of the middle marches. The tune is po- 
 pular in Scotland ; but whether these are the 
 original words, will admit of a doubt. 
 
 Scott's Minstrelsy.] 
 
 This night is my departing night, 
 For here nae langer must 1 stay ; 
 
 There's neither friend nor foe o' mine, 
 But wishes me away. 
 
 What I have done through lack of wit, 
 
 I never, never can recall ; 
 I hope ye're a' my friends as yet ; 
 
 Goodnight and joy be with you all J 
 
 ®f)c ILocjIJraal&eji $f aq&eir. 
 
 [This ballad (which, as Sir Walter Scott re- 
 marks, seems to be the most modern in which 
 the harp, as a border instrument of music, is 
 found to occur) was first published in the Min- 
 strelsy of the Scottish Border. — The castle of 
 Lochmaben was formerly a noble building, situ- 
 ated upon a peninsula, projecting into one of the 
 four lakes which are in the neighbourhood of the 
 royal burgh, and is said to have been the resi- 
 dence of Rubert Bruce, while lord of Annandale. 
 Accordingly it was always held to be a royal 
 fortress, the keeping of which, according to the 
 yustom of the times, was granted to some power- 
 ful lord, with an allotment of lands and fishings, 
 for the defence and maintenance of the place. 
 There is extant a grant, dated 16th March, 1511, 
 to Robert Lauder of the Bass, of the office of 
 captain and keeper of Lochmaben castle, for 
 seven years, with many perquisites. Among 
 others, the " land, stolen frae the king," is be- 
 stowed on the captain, as his proper lands. 
 What shall we say of a country, where the very 
 ground was the subject of theft ? An extraordi- 
 nary and anomalous class of landed proprietors 
 dwell in the neighbourhood of Lochmaben. 
 These are the inhabitants of four small villages, 
 
 near the ancient castle, called the Four Towns 
 of Lochmaben. They themselves are termed the 
 King's Rentallers, or kindly tenants; under 
 which denomination each of them has a right, of 
 an allodial nature, to a amall piece of ground. 
 It is said, that these people are the descendants of 
 Robert Bruce's menials, to whom he assigned, in 
 reward of their faithful service, these portions of 
 land burdened only with the payment of certain 
 quit-rents, and grassums, or fines, upon the 
 entry of a new tenant. The right of the rental- 
 lers is, in essence, a right of prope ty, but, in 
 form, only a right of lease; of which they appeal 
 for the foundation to the rent-rolls of the lord of 
 the castle and manor. This possession, by rental, 
 or by simple entry upon the rent-roll, was an- 
 ciently a common, and peculiarly sacred, species 
 of property, granted by a chief to his faithful fol- 
 lowers; the connection of landlord and tenant 
 being esteemed of a nature too formal to be 
 necessary, where there was honour on the one 
 side, and gratitude upon the other. But, in the 
 case of subjects granting a right of this kind, it 
 was held to expire with the life of the granter, 
 unless his heir chose to renew it ; and also upon 
 the death of the rentaller himself, unless espe- 
 cially granted to his heirs, by which term only 
 his first heir was understood. Hence, in modern 
 days, the kindly tenants have entirely disappear- 
 ed from the land. Fortunately for the inhabi- 
 tants of the Four Towns of Lochmaben, the 
 maxim, that the king can never die, prevents 
 their right of property from reverting to the 
 crown. The Viscount of Stormonth, as royal 
 keeper of the castle, did, indeed, about the 
 beginning of last century, make an attempt to 
 remove the rentallers from their possessions, or 
 at least to procure judgment, finding them ob- 
 liged to take out feudal investitures, and subject 
 themselves to the casualties thereto annexed. 
 But the rentallers united in their common de- 
 fence: and, having statud their immemorial pos- 
 session, together with some favourable clauses in 
 certain old acts of parliament, enacting, that 
 the king's poor kindly tenants of Lochmaben 
 should not be hurt, they finally prevailed in an 
 action before the Court of .Session. From the 
 peculiar state of their right of property, it fol- 
 lows, that there is no occasion for feudal inves- 
 titures, or the formal entry of an heir; and, of 
 course, when they choose to convey their lands, it 
 is done by a simple deed of conveyance, without 
 charter or sasine. 
 
 The kindly tenants of Lochmaben live (or at 
 
BOEDER BALLADS. 
 
 361 
 
 least till lately) much sequestered from their ^ 
 neighbours, marry among themselves, and are 
 distinguished from each other by soubriquets, 
 according to the ancient border custom, re- 
 peatedly noticed. You meet among their writ- 
 ings, -with such names as John Out-bye, Will 
 la-bye, White-fish, Red-fish, &c. They are 
 tenaciously obstinate in defence of their privile- 
 ges of commonty, &c. which are numerous. 
 Their lands are, in general, neatly inclosed, and 
 well cultivated, and they form a contented and 
 industrious little community. 
 
 Many of these particulars are extracted from 
 the MS3. of Mr Syme, writer to the signet. 
 Those who are desirous of more information, 
 may consult Craig de Feudis, Lib. II. dig. 
 9. sec. 24. It is hoped the reader will excuse 
 this digression, though somewhat professional ; 
 especially as there can be little doubt that this 
 diminutive republic must soon share the fate of 
 mightier states ; for, in consequence of the in- 
 crease of commerce, lands possessed under this 
 singular tenure, being now often brought to sale, 
 and purchased by the neighbouring proprietors, 
 will, in process of time, be included in their in- 
 vestitures, and the right of rentallage be entirely 
 forgotten.— Scott.] 
 
 O heard ye na o' the silly blind Harper, 
 How lang he lived in Lochmaben town ? 
 
 And how he wad gang to fair England, 
 
 To steal the Lord Warden's Wanton Brown! 
 
 But first he gaed to his gude wyfe, 
 
 Wi' a' the haste that he could thole — 
 
 " This wark," quo' he, " will 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 : 
 
 Sae set thee on the gray mare's back, 
 And leave the foal at hame wi' me." 
 
 So he is up to England gane, 
 
 And even as fast as he may drie; 
 
 And whan he cam' to Carlisle gate, 
 O wha was there but the warden, he ? 
 
 " Come into my hall, thou silly blind harper, 
 And of thy harping let me hear !" 
 
 " O by my sooth," quo' the silly blind harper, 
 " I wad rather ha'e stabling for my mare." 
 
 The warden look'd ower his left shoulder, 
 And said unto his stable groom — 
 
 " Gae take the silly blind harper's mare, 
 And tie her beside my Wanton Brown." 
 
 Then aye he harped, and aye he carped, 
 Till a' the lordlings footed the floor; 
 
 But an' the music was sae sweet, 
 
 The groom had nae mind o' the stable door 
 
 And aye he harped, and aye he carped, 
 Till a' the nobles were fast asleep ; 
 
 Then quickly he took aff his shoon, 
 And saftly down the stair did creep. 
 
 Syne to the stable door he hied, 
 
 Wi' tread as light as light could be ; 
 
 And when he opened and gaed in, 
 
 There he fand thirty steeds and three. 
 
 He took a cowt-halter frae his hose, 
 And o' his purpose he didna fail ; 
 
 He slipt it ower the Wanton's nose, 
 And tied it to his gray mare's tail. 
 
 He turned them loose at the castle gate, 
 Ower muir and moss and ilka dale ; 
 
 And she ne'er let the Wanton bait, 
 
 But kept him a-gallopiug hame to her foal. 
 
 The mare she was right swift o' foot, 
 
 She didna fail to find the way ; 
 For she was at Lochmaben gate, 
 
 A lang three hours before the day. 
 
 When she cam' to the harper's door, 
 
 There she gave mony a nicker and sneer — 
 
 " Rise up," quo' the wife, " thou lazy lass ; 
 Let in thy master and his mare." 
 
 Then up she rose, put on her clothes, 
 And keskit through at the lock-hole — 
 
 " ! by my sooth," then cried the lass, 
 
 " Our mare has gotten a braw brown foal !" 
 
 " Come, haud thy tongue, thou silly wench ! 
 
 The morn's but glancing in your e'e." — 
 " I'll wad my hail fee against a groat, 
 
 He's bigger than e'er our foal will be." 
 
 Now all this while in merry Carlisle, 
 The harper harped to hie and law ; 
 
 And the fiend dought they do but listen him to 
 Until that the day began to daw. 
 
362 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 Bur, on the morn, at fair day-light, ; 
 
 When they had ended a' their cheer, 
 Behold the Wanton Brown was gane, 
 
 And eke the poor blind Harper's mare ! 
 
 "Allace! allace!" quoth the cunning auld 
 Harper, 
 And ever allace that I cam' here ; 
 In Scotland I lost a Draw cowt foal, 
 
 In England they've stown my gude gray 
 mare'" 
 
 " Come ! cease thy allacing, thou silly blind 
 Harper, 
 
 And again of thy harping let us hear ; 
 And weel payd sail thy cowt-foal be, 
 
 And thou sail have a far better mare." 
 
 Then aye he harped, and aye he carped ; 
 
 Sae sweet were the harpings he let them 
 hear! 
 He was paid for the foal he had never lost, 
 
 And three times ower for the gude gray mare. 
 
 <§mm% fklfet ©I tjjj* Jrak 
 
 loMjeaifo. 
 
 [From the Border Minstrelsy. — " There is 
 another ballad," says Sir Walter, " under the 
 same title as the following, in which nearly the 
 same incidents are narrated, with little diffe- 
 rence, except that the honour of rescuing the 
 cattle is attributed to the Liddesdale Elliots, 
 headed by a chief, there called Martin Elliot of 
 the Preakin Tower, whose son, Simon, is said to 
 have fallen in the action. It is very possible, 
 that both the Tiviotdale Scotts, and the Elliots, 
 were engaged in the affair, and that each claim- 
 ed the honour of the victory." — Sir Walter pre- 
 sumes, that the Willie Scutt, here mentioned, 
 must have been a natural son of the laird of 
 Buccleuch.] 
 
 It fell about the Martinmas tyde, 
 
 When our border steeds get corn and hay, 
 
 The captain of Bewcastle hath bound him to 
 ryde, 
 And he's ower to Tividale to drive a prey. 
 
 The first ae guide that they met wi', 
 It was high up in Hardhaughswire;* 
 
 The second guide that we met wi', 
 
 It was laigh down in Borthwick water.f 
 
 " What tidings, what tidings, my trusty guide? 
 
 "Nae tidings, nae tidings, I ha'e to thee; 
 But gin ye'U gae to the fair Dodhead,:): 
 
 Mony a cow's cauf I'll let thee see." 
 
 And whan they cam' to the fair Dodhead, 
 Right hastily they clam the peel ; 
 
 They loosed the kye out, ane and a', 
 And ranshackled the house right weel. 
 
 Now Jamie Telfer's heart was sair,§ 
 
 The tear aye rowing in his e'e ; 
 He pled wi' the captain to ha'e his gear, 
 
 Or else revenged he wad be. 
 
 The captain turned him round and leugh ; 
 
 Said — " Man, there's naething in thy house, 
 But ae auld sword without a sheath, 
 
 That hardly now wad fell a mouse !" 
 
 The sun wasna up, but the moon was down, 
 It was the gryming|| of a new-fa'n snaw, 
 
 Jamie Telfer has run ten myles a-foot, 
 
 Between the Dodhead and the Stob's Ha'.*[ 
 
 And whan he cam' to the fair tower yate, 
 He shouted loud, and cried weel hie, 
 
 Till out bespak' auld Gibby Elliot— 
 
 " Whae's this that brings the fraye to me ?• 
 
 " It's I, Jamie Telfer o' the fair Dodhead, 
 And a harried man I think I be ! 
 
 There's naething left at the fair Dodhead, 
 But a waefu' wife and bairnies three." 
 
 * Hardhaughswire is the pass from Liddesdale 
 to the head of Tiviotdale.— Scott. 
 
 f Borthwick water is a stream, which falls 
 into the Tiviot three miles above Hawick. — Scott. 
 
 % The Dodhead, in Selkirkshire, near Singlee, 
 
 where there are still the vestiges of an old tower. 
 
 Scott. 
 
 § There is still a family of Telfers, residing near 
 Langholm, who pretend to derive their descent 
 from the Telfers of the Dodhead.— Scott. 
 
 || Gryming — Sprinkling. 
 
 "|f Stobs Hall, upon iilitterick. Jarnie Telfer 
 made his first application here, because he seems 
 to have paid the proprietor of that castle black- 
 mail, or protection money. — Scott. 
 
BOEDER BALLADS. 
 
 363 
 
 " Gar seek your succour at Branksome Ha',* 
 For succour ye'se get nane frae me ! 
 
 Gae seek your succour where ye paid black mail, 
 For, man ! ye ne'er paid money to me." 
 
 Jamie has turned him round about, 
 
 I wat the tear blinded his e'e — 
 " I'll ne'er pay mail to Elliot again, 
 
 And the fair Dodhead I'll never see ! 
 
 " My hounds may a' rin masterless, 
 My hawks may fly frae tree to tree, 
 
 My lord may grip my vassal lands, 
 For there again maun I never be!" 
 
 He has turned him to the Tiviot side, 
 
 E'en as fast as he could drie, 
 Till he nam' to the Coultart Cleugh.f 
 
 And there he shouted baith loud and hie. 
 
 Then up hespak' him auld Jock Grieve— 
 
 " Whae's this that brings the fraye to me ?" 
 
 " It's I, Jamie Telfer o' the fair Dodhead, 
 A harried man I trow I be. 
 
 " There's naething left in the fair Dodhead, 
 But a greeting wife and bairnies three, 
 
 And sax poor ca's stand in the sta', 
 A' routing loud for their miunie." 
 
 " Alack a wae !" quo' auld Jock Grieve, 
 Alack ! my heart is sair for thee ! 
 
 For I was married on the elder sister, 
 
 And you on the youngest of a 1 the three." 
 
 Then he has ta'en out a bonnie black, 
 Was right weel fed wi' corn and hay, 
 
 And he's set Jamie Telfer on his back, 
 To the Catslockhill to tak' the fray. 
 
 And whan he cam' to the Catslockhill, 
 He shouted loud and cried weel hie, 
 
 Till out and spak' him William's Wat — 
 " O whae's this brings the fraye to me . J " 
 
 " It's I, Jamie Telfer of the fair Dodhead, 
 
 A harried man I think I be ! 
 The captain of Bewcastle has driven my gear ; 
 
 For God's sake rise and succour me !" 
 
 * The ancient family seat of the lairds of 
 luccleuch, near Hawick. — Scott. 
 (■ The Coultart Cleugh is nearly opposite to 
 
 " Alas for wae!" quo' William's Wat, 
 " Alack, for thee my heart is sair 2 
 
 I never cam' by the fair Dodhead, 
 That ever I fand thy basket bare." 
 
 He's set his twa sons on coal-black steeds, 
 
 Himsel' upon a freckled gray, 
 And they are on wi Jamie Telfer, 
 
 To Branksome Ha' to tak' the fray. 
 
 And whan they cam' to Branksome Ha', 
 They shouted a' baith loud and hie, 
 
 Till up and spak' him auld Buccleuch, 
 
 Said — '* Whae's this brings the fraye to me? 
 
 " It's I, Jamie Telfer o' the fair : 
 And a harried man I think I be ! 
 
 There's nought left in the fair Dodhead, 
 But a greeting wife and bairnies three." 
 
 " Alack for wae !" quoth the gude auld lord, 
 And ever my heart is wae for thee ! 
 
 But fye gar cry on Willie, my son, 
 
 And see that he come to me speedilie ! 
 
 " Gar warn the water, braid and wide,f 
 
 Gar warn it sune and hastilie ! 
 They that winna ride for Telfer's kye, 
 
 Let them never look in the face o' me ! 
 
 " Warn Wat o' Harden, and his sons,:f 
 Wi' them will Borthwick water ride ; 
 
 Warn Gaudilands, and Allanhaugh, 
 And Gilmanscleugh, and Commonside. 
 
 " Ride by the gate at Priesthaughswire,§ 
 And warn the Currors o' the Lee ; 
 
 As ye cum down the Hermitage Slack, 
 Warn doughty Willie o' Gorrinberry." 
 
 Carlinrig, or. the road between Hawick and 
 Mosspaul. — Scott. 
 
 i The water, in the mountainous districts of 
 Scotland, is often used to express the banks of 
 the river, which are the only inhabitable parts 
 of the country. To raise the mater, therefore, 
 was to alarm those who lived along its side. 
 
 Scott. 
 
 % The estates, mentioned in this verse, be- 
 longed to families of the name of Scott, resid- 
 ing upon the waters of Borthwick and Tiviot, 
 near the castle of their chief. — Scott . 
 ■ § The pursuers seem to have taken the road 
 
364 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 The Scots they rade, the Scots they ran, 
 
 Sae starkly and sae steadilie ! 
 And aye the ower-word o' the thrang 
 
 Was — " Rise for Branksome readilie!" 
 
 The gear was driven the Frostylee up, * 
 Frae the Frostylee unto the plain, 
 
 Whan Willie has looked his men before, 
 And saw the kye right fast driving. 
 
 " Whae drives thir kye ?" can Willie say, 
 "Tomak' an outspecklef o' me ?" 
 
 "It's I, the captain o' Bewcastle, Willie; 
 I winna layne my name for thee." 
 
 " O will ye let Telfer's kye gae back, 
 Or will ye do aught for regard o* me ? 
 
 Or, by the faith of my body," quo' Willie Scott, 
 " I'se ware my dame's cauf's skin on thee !" 
 
 " I winna let the kye gae back, 
 
 Neither for thy love, nor yet thy fear; 
 
 But I will drive Jamie Telfer's kye, 
 In spite of every Scot that's here." 
 
 " Set on them, lads !" quo' Willie than ; 
 
 " Fye, lads, set on them cruellie '. 
 For ere they win to the Ritterfurd, 
 
 Mony a tuom saddle there sail be I" 
 
 Then till't they gaed, wi' heart and hand ; 
 
 The blows fell tnick as bickering hail ; 
 And mony a horse ran masterless, 
 
 And mony a comely cheek was pale ! 
 
 But Willie was stricken ower the head, 
 
 And thro' the knapscap % the sword hasgane ,- 
 
 And Harden grat fur very rage, § 
 
 Whan Willie on the grund lay slane. 
 
 through the hills of Liddesdale, in order to col- 
 lect forces, and intercept the forayers at the 
 passage of the Liddel, on their return to Bew- 
 cast e. The Ritterford and Kershope-ford, after- 
 mentioned, are noted fords on the river Liddel. 
 
 * The Frostylee is a br ok, which joins the 
 Tiviot, near Mosspaul. — Scott. 
 
 f Outspeckte— Laughing-stock. 
 
 ± Knapscap — Headpiece. 
 
 § Of this border laird, commonly called Auld 
 Wat of Harden, tradition has preserved many 
 anecdotes. He was married to Mary Scott, cele- 
 brated in song by the title of the Flower of Yar- 
 row. By their marriage-contract, the father-in- 
 
 > But he's tane aff his gude steel cap, 
 
 And thrice he's wav'd it in the air— 
 
 The Dinlay || snaw was ne'er mair white, 
 
 Nor the lyart locks of Harden's hair. 
 
 " Revenge ! revenge I" auld Wat can cry ; 
 
 " Fye, lads, lay on them cruellie ! 
 We'll ne'er see Tiviotside again, 
 
 Or Willie's death revenged sail be." 
 
 O mony a horse ran masterless, 
 The splintered lances flew on hie ; 
 
 But or they wan to the Kershope ford, 
 The Scots had gotten the victory. 
 
 John o' Brigham there was slane, T 
 And John o' Barlow, as I hear say ; 
 
 And thirty mae o' the captain's men, 
 Lay bleeding on the grund that day. 
 
 law, Philip Scott of Dryhope, was to find Harden 
 in horse meat, and man's meat, at his tower of 
 Dryhope, for a year and a day ; hut five barons 
 pledge themselves, that at the expiry of that 
 period, the son-in-law should remove, without 
 attempting to continue in possession by force ! 
 A notary-public signed for all the parties to the 
 deed, none of whom could write their names. 
 The original is still in the charter-room of the 
 present Mr Scott of Harden. By the Flower of 
 Yarrow the laird of Harden had six sons ; five of 
 whom survived him, and founded the families of 
 Harden (now extinct,) Highchesters (now repre- 
 senting Harden,) Reaburn, Wool, and Synton. 
 The sixth son was slain at a fray, in a hunting- 
 match, by the Scotts of Gilmanscleugh. His 
 brothers flew to arns, but the old laird secured 
 them in the dungeon of his tower, hurried to 
 Edinburgh, stated the crime, and obtained a gift 
 of the lands of the offenders fi om the crown. He 
 returned to Harden with equal speed, released 
 his sons, and showed them the charter. " To 
 horse, lads!" cried the savage warrior, "and let 
 us take possession ! the lands of Gilmanscleueh 
 are well worth a dead son." The property thus 
 obtained continued in the family till the begin- 
 ning of last century, when it was sold, by John 
 Scott of Harden, to Ann, duchess of Buccleuch. 
 A beautiful ballad, founded on this tradition, 
 occurs in the Forest Minstrel, a collection of 
 legendary poetry, by Mr James Hogg. — Scott. 
 
 || The Dinlay — is a mountain in Liddesdale. 
 
 ^f Perhaps one of the ancient family of 
 Brougham, in Cumberland. The editor has used 
 
BOEDER BALLADS. 
 
 365 
 
 The captain was run thro' the thick of the thigh. 
 
 And broken was his right leg bane ; 
 If he had lived this hundred year, 
 
 He had never been loved by woman again. 
 
 "Hae back thy kye I" the captain said , 
 " Dear kye, I trow, to some they be '. 
 
 For gin I suld live a hundred years, 
 
 There will ne'er fair lady smile on me." 
 
 Then word is gane to the captain's bride, 
 Even in the bower where that she lay, 
 
 That her lord was prisoner in enemy's land, 
 Since into Tividale he had led the way. 
 
 " I wad lourd * have had a winding-sheet, 
 And helped to put it ower his head, 
 
 Ere he had been disgraced by the border Scot, 
 "Whan he ower Liddel his men did lead !" 
 
 There was a wild gallant amang us a', 
 
 His name was Watty wi' the Wudspurs, f 
 
 Cried — " On for his house in Stanegirthside, £ 
 If ony man will ride with us !" 
 
 "When they cam' to the Stanegirthside, 
 They dang wi' trees, and burst the door ; 
 
 They loosed out a' the captains kye, 
 And set them forth our lads before. 
 
 There was an auld wyfe ayont the fire, 
 
 A wee bit o' the captain's kin — 
 " Whae dar loose out the captain's kye, 
 
 Or answer to him and his men ?" 
 
 some freedom with the original in the subsequent 
 verse. The account of the captain's disaster 
 {teste lieva vulnerata) is rather too naive for literal 
 publication. — Scott. 
 
 * Lourd — Rather. 
 
 f Wudspurs — Hotspur, or Madspur. 
 
 i A house belonging to the Foresters, situated 
 on the English side of the Liddel. 
 
 An article in the list of attempts upon England, 
 fouled by the commissioners at Berwick, in the 
 year 1587, may relate to the subject of the fore- 
 going ballad. 
 
 October, 1582. 
 
 Thomas Mus- ( Walter Scott,~) 200 kine 
 grave, deputy of ) laird of Buck- f and oxen, 
 Bewcastle,and the ^ luth, and his j 300 gait 
 tenants, against ^complices ; for J and sheep. 
 —Introduction to the History of Westmoreland and 
 Cumberland, p. 31 — Scott. 
 
 " It's I, Watty Wudspurs, loose the kye 1 
 I winna layne my name frae thee ! 
 
 And I will loose out the captain's kye, 
 In scorn of a' his men and he." 
 
 Whan they cam' to the Fair Dodhead, 
 They were a wellcum sight to see ! 
 
 For instead of his ain ten milk kye, 
 
 Jamie Telfer has gotten thirty and three. 
 
 And he has paid the rescue shot, 
 Baith wi* goud, and white monie; 
 
 And at the burial o' Willie Scott, 
 I wat was mony a weeping e'e. 
 
 %%t Mui^ if tie Md^toke, 
 
 [Fjiom the Border Minstrelsy, where it is pub- 
 lished from a copy in the Bannatyne MS. in the 
 hand-writing of the Hon. Mr Carmichael, advo- 
 cate. It first appeared inaccurately in Allan 
 Ramsay's Evergreen. — " The skirmish of the 
 Reidswire," says Sir Walter, "happened upon 
 the 7th of June, 1575, at one of the meetings, 
 held by the wardens of the marches, for arrange- 
 ments necessary upon the border. Sir John Car- 
 michael, ancestor of the present earl of Hyndford, 
 was the Scottish warden, and Sir John Forster 
 held that office on the English middle march. 
 In the course of the day, which was employed, as 
 usual, in redressing wrongs, a bill, or indictment, 
 at the instance of a Scottish complainer, was 
 found (i. e. found a true bill) against one Farn- 
 stein, a notorious English fretbooter. Forster 
 alleged that he had fled from justice: Carmi- 
 chael, considering this as a pretext to avoid 
 making compensation for the felony, bade him 
 'play fair!' to which the haughty English war- 
 den retorted, by some injurious expressions re- 
 specting Carmichael 's fa lily, and gave other open 
 signs of resentment. His retinue, chiefly men of 
 Redesdale and Tynedale, the most ferocious of 
 the English borderers, glad of any pretext for a 
 quarrel, discharged a flight of arrows among the 
 Scots. A warm conflict ensued, in which, Car- 
 michael being beat down and made prisoner, 
 success seemed at first to incline to the English 
 side, till the Tynedale men, throwing themselves 
 too greedily upon the plunder, fell into disoider; 
 ani a body of Jedburgh citizens arriving at that 
 instant, the skirmish terminated in a complete 
 
366 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 victory on the part of the Scots, who took pri- 
 soners the English warden, James Ogle, Cuth- 
 bert Collingwood, Francis Russell, son to the earl 
 of Bedford, and son-in-law to Forster, some of 
 the Fen wicks, and several other border chiefs. 
 They were sent to theearl of Morton, then regent, 
 who detained them at Dalkeith for some days, 
 till the heat of their resentment was abated; 
 which prudent precaution prevented a war be- 
 twixt the two kingdoms. He then dismissed 
 them with great expressions of regard ; and, to 
 satisfy queen Elizabeth,* sent up Carmichael to 
 York, whence he was soon after honourably dis- 
 missed. The field of battle, called the Reids wire, 
 is a part of the Carter Mountain, about ten miles 
 from Jedburgh. — See, for these particulars, Gods- 
 croft, Spottisrvoode, and Johnstone's History. 
 
 " The modern spelling of the word Eeidswire is 
 adopted, to prevent the mistake in pronunciation 
 which might be occasioned by the use of the Scot- 
 tish qu for rv. The MS. reads Reidsquair. Swair, 
 or Swire, signifies the descent of a hill ; and the 
 epithet Red is derived from the colour of the 
 heath, or, perhaps, from the Reid-water, which 
 rises at no great distance."] 
 
 The seventh of July, the suith to say, 
 
 At the Reidswire the tryst was set ; 
 Our wardens they affixed the day, 
 
 And, as they promised, so they met. 
 
 Alas ! that day I'll ne'er forgett ! 
 "Was sure sae fear'd, and then sae faine — 
 
 They came theare justice for to gett, 
 Will never green f to come again. 
 
 Carmichael was our warden then, f 
 He caused the country to eonveen; 
 
 * Her ambassador at Edinburgh refused to lie 
 in a bed of state which had been provided for him, 
 till this "odious fact " had been inquired into. — 
 Murdin's State Papers, vol. ii. p. 282.— Scott. 
 
 t Green — Long. 
 
 $ Sir John Carmichael was a favourite of the 
 regent Morton, by whom he was appointed 
 warden of the middle marches, in preference to 
 the border chieftains. With the like policy, the 
 regent married Archibald Carmichael, the war- 
 den's brother, to the heiress of Edrom, in the 
 Merse, much contrary to the inclination of the 
 lady and her friends. In like manner, he com- 
 pelled another heiress, Jane Sleigh, of Cumlege, 
 _o marry Archibald, brother to Auchinleck of 
 Auchinleck, one of his dependants. By such; 
 
 J And the Laird's Wat, that worthie man, § 
 Brought in that sirname weil beseen : || 
 
 arbitrary practices, Morton meant to strengthen 
 
 I his authority on the borders ; instead of which, 
 
 he hastened his fall, by giving disgust to his 
 
 [ kinsman, theearl of Angus, and his other friends, 
 
 j who had been established in the country for aires. 
 
 1 —Godscroft, vol. ii. pp. 238, 246. Sir John Car- 
 
 i michael, the warden, was murdered 16th June, 
 
 1600, by a party of borderers, at a place called 
 
 | Raesknows, near Lochmaben, whither he was 
 
 going to hold a court of justice. Two of the 
 
 ! ringleaders in the slaughter, Thomas Armstrong, 
 
 i called Ringan's Tarn, and Adam Scott, called 
 
 I the Pecket, were tried at Edinburgh, at the in- 
 
 | stance of Carmichael of Edrom. They were 
 
 condemned to have their right hands struck off, 
 
 thereafter to be hanged, and their bodies gib- 
 
 I betted on the Borough Moor ; which sentence 
 
 I was executed 14th November, 1601. " This 
 
 Pecket, (saith Birrel in his Diary,) was " ane of 
 
 the maist notalrie thieffes that ever raid ;" he 
 
 | calls his name Steill, which appears, from the 
 
 j record, to be a mistake. Four years afterwards, 
 
 an Armstrong, called Sandy of Rowanburn, and 
 
 several others of that tribe, were executed for 
 
 this and other excesses. — Books of Adjournal of 
 
 these dates. — Scott. 
 
 § The chief who led out the sirname of Scott 
 upon this occasion, was (saith Satchells) Walter 
 Scott of Ancrum, a natural son of Walter of 
 Buccleuch. The laird of Buccleuch was then a 
 minor. The ballad seems to -have been popular 
 in Satchells* days, for he quotes it literally. He- 
 must, however, have been mistaken in this par- 
 ticular ; for the family of Scott of Ancrum, in 
 all our books of genealogy, deduce their descent 
 from the Scotts of Balwearie, in Fife, whom they 
 represent. The first of this family, settled in 
 Roxburghshire, is stated in Douglas' Baronage to 
 have been Patrick fc'cott, who purchased the 
 lands of Ancrum in the reign of James VI. He 
 therefore could not be the Laird's Wat of the 
 ballad ; indeed, from the list of border families 
 in 1597, Kerr appears to have been proprietor of 
 Ancrum at the date of the ballad. It is plainly 
 written in the MS. the Laird's Wat, i. e. the 
 Laird's son Wat; notwithstanding which, it has 
 always hitherto been printed the Laird Wat. If 
 Douglas be accurate in his genealogy, the person 
 meant must be the young laird of Buccleuch, 
 1 1 afterwards distinguished for his surprise of Car- 
 lisle Castle.— See Kinmont Willie. I am the more 
 
BORDER BALLADS. 
 
 367 
 
 The Armestranges, that aye ha'e been * 
 A hardie house, but not a hail, 
 
 The Elliots' honours to maintaine, 
 Brought down the lave o' Liddesdale. 
 
 Then Tividale came to wi' speid ; 
 
 The s'neriffe brought the Douglas down, f 
 Wi' Cranstane, Gladstain, good at need, ± 
 
 Baith Rewle water, and Hawick town. 
 
 Beanjeddart bauldly made him boun, 
 Wi' a' the Ti umbills, stronge and stout ; 
 
 The Rutherfoords, with grit renown, § 
 Convoyed the town of Jedbrugh out. 
 
 confirmed in this opinion, because Kerr of An- 
 trum was at this time a fugitive, for slaying one 
 of the Rutherfords, and the tower of Ancrum 
 given in keeping to the Turnbulls, his hereditary 
 enemies. His mother, however, a daughter of 
 Home of Wedderburn, contrived to turn out the 
 Turnbulls, and possess herself of the place by 
 surprise. — Godscroft, vol. ii. p. 250. — Scott. 
 
 || Weil beseen — Well appointed. The word 
 occurs in Morte Arthur : " And when Sir Per- 
 cival saw this, he hied them thither, and found 
 the ship covered with silke, more blacker than 
 any beare ; and therein was a gentlewoman, of 
 great beau tie, and she was richly beseene, that 
 none might be better." — Scott. 
 
 ' This clan are here mentioned as not being 
 hail, or whole, because they were outlawed or 
 broken men. Indeed, many of them had become 
 Englishmen, as the phrase then went. Accord- 
 ingly, we find, from Paton, that forty of them, 
 under the laird of Mangertoun, joined Somerset 
 upon his expedition into Scotland. — Paton in , 
 Da/yell's Fragments, p. 1. There was an old 
 alliance betwixt the Elliots and Armstrongs, 
 here alluded to. For the enterprizes of the Arm- | 
 strongs, against their native country, when under 
 English assurance, see Murdin's State Papers, 
 vol. i. p. 43. From which it appears, that, by 
 command of Sir Ralph Evers, this clan ravaged 
 almost the whole west border of Scotland. — Scott. 
 
 t Douglas of Cavers, hereditary sheriff of Te- 
 viotdale, descended from Black Archibald, who 
 carried the standard of his father, the earl of 
 Douglas, at the battle of Otterbourne. — See the 
 JSa/lad of that name.— Scott. 
 
 ± Cranstoun of that ilk, ancestor to lord Crans- 
 toun ; and Gladstain of Gladstains — Scott. 
 
 § These were ancient and powerful border 
 clans, residing chiefly upon the river Jed. Hence, & 
 
 Of other elans I cannot tell, 
 
 Because our warning was not wide. — 
 Be this our folks ha'e ta'en the fell, 
 
 And planted down palliones || there to bide. 
 
 We looked down the other side, 
 And saw come breasting ower the brae, 
 
 Wi' Sir John Forster for their guyde, ^f 
 Full fifteen hundred men and mae. 
 
 It grieved him sair that day, I trow, 
 
 Wi' Sir George Hearoune of Schipsyde- 
 Because we were not men enow, [house : '* 
 
 They counted us not worth a louse. 
 
 Sir George was gentle, meek and douse, 
 But he was hail and het as fire; 
 
 And yet, for all his cracking crouse, \\ 
 He rewd the raid o' the Reidswire. 
 
 To deal with proud men is but pain ; 
 
 For either must ye fight or flee, 
 Or else no answer make again, 
 
 But play the beast, and let them be. 
 
 It was na wonder he was hie, 
 Had Tindaill, Reedsdaill, at his hand,}} 
 
 Wi' Cukdaill, Gladsdaill on the lee, 
 And Hebsrime, and Northumberland. 
 
 they naturally convoyed the town of Jedburgh 
 out. Although notorious freebooters, they were 
 specially patronised by Morton, who, by their 
 means, endeavoured to counterpoise the power 
 of Buccleuch and Ferniherst, during the civil 
 wars attached to the queen's faction. 
 
 The following fragment of an old ballad is 
 quoted in a letter from an aged gentleman of this 
 name, residing at New-York, to a friend in 
 Scotland : 
 
 "Bauld Rutherfurd, he was fow stout, 
 "Wi' a' his nice sons him round about; 
 He led the town o' Jedburgh out, 
 All bravely fought that day." 
 
 || Palliones— Tents. 
 
 if This gentleman is called, erroneously, in 
 some copies of this ballad, Sir George. He was 
 warden of the mid-marches of England.— Scott. 
 
 * Sir George Heron of Chipchase -house, whose 
 character is contrasted with that of the English 
 warden. — Scott. 
 
 ft Cracking crouse — Talking big. 
 
 # These are districts, or dales, on the English 
 border. Hebsrime seems to be an error in the 
 MS. for Hebburn upon the Till.— Scott. 
 
368 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 Yett was our meeting meek enough, 
 3egun wi' merriment and mowes, 
 
 And at the brae, aboon the heugh, 
 
 The dark sat down to call the rowes. * 
 And some for kyne, and some for ewes, 
 
 Called in of Dandrie, Hob, and Jock— 
 
 We saw, come marching ower the knows, 
 
 Five hundred Fennicks in a flock, f 
 
 With jack and speir, and bows all bent, 
 
 And warlike weapons at their will : 
 Although we were na well content, 
 
 Yet, by my trouth, we feared no ill. 
 
 Some gaed to drink, and some stude still, 
 And some to cards and dice them sped ; 
 
 Till on ane Farnstein they fyled a bill, 
 And he was fugitive and fled. 
 
 CaTmichael bade them speik out plainlie, 
 And cloke no cause for ill nor good ; 
 
 The other, answering him as vainlie, 
 Began to reckon kin and blood : 
 He raise, and raxed $ him where he stood, 
 
 And bade him match him with his marrows; 
 Then Tindaill heard them reasun rude, 
 
 And they loot off a flight of arrows. 
 
 Then was there nought but bow and speir, 
 
 And every man pulled out a brand , 
 " A Schaftan and a Fenwick'' thare : 
 
 Gude Symington was slain frae hand. 
 
 The Scotsmen cried on other to stand, 
 Frae time they saw John Robson slain — 
 
 What should they cry? the king's command 
 Could cause no cowards turn again. 
 
 Up rose the laird to red the cumber, 
 
 Which would not be for all his boast ; — 
 
 What could we doe with sic a number P 
 Fyve thousand men into a host, 
 Then Henry Purdie proved his cost, 
 
 And very narrowlie had mischiefed him, 
 And there we had our warden lost, 
 
 Wer't not the grit God he relieved him. 
 
 Another throw the breiks him bah', 
 Whill flatlies to the ground he fell : 
 
 Then thought I weel we had lost him there, 
 Into my stomack it struck a knell . 
 
 * Rorves — Rolls. 
 
 j The Fenwicks ; a powerful and numerous 
 Northumberland clan. — Scott. 
 
 % Raxed him — Stretched himself up. 
 
 Yet up he raise the treuth to tell ye, 
 And laid about him dints full dour; 
 
 His horsemen they raid sturdily, 
 And stude about him in the stoure. 
 
 Then raise the Slogan with ane shout — § 
 "Fy, Tindaill, to it; Jedbrugh's here:" 
 
 I trow he was not half sae stout, 
 But anis his stomach was asteir. 
 
 § The gathering word, peculiar to a certain 
 name, or set of people, was termed slogan or 
 slvghorn, and was always repeated at an onset, 
 as well as on many other occasions, as appears 
 from the following passage of an old author, 
 whom this custom seems to have offended — for he 
 complains, 
 
 " That whereas alweys, both in al tounes of 
 war, and in al campes of armies, quietnes and 
 stilnes without nois is principally in the night, 
 after the watch is set, observed (1 need not reason 
 why.) Yet, our northern prikkers, the border- 
 ers, notwithstanding, with great enormitie, (as 
 thought me) and not unlyke (to be playn) unto a 
 masterless hounde houyling in a hie wey, when 
 he hath lost him he wayted upon, sum hoopying, 
 sum whistelyng, and most with crying, a Ber- 
 wyke! a Berwyke ! a,Fenwyke! a Fenrvyke! a 
 Bulmer! aButmer! or so otherwise as theyr cap- 
 tein's names wear, never linnde those tioublous 
 and daungerous noyses all the night long. They 
 sayd they did it to fynd out their captein and 
 fellowes ; but if the soldiours of our oother coun- 
 tries and sheres had used the same manner, in 
 that case we shoold have oftymes had the state of 
 our campe more lyke the outrage of a dissolute 
 huntyng, than the quiet of a wel ordred army.' 
 — Patten's Account of Somerset's Expedition, p. 
 76. — Apud Da/yell's Fragments. 
 
 Honest Patten proceeds, with great prolixity, 
 to prove, that this was a custom more honoured 
 in the breach than in the observance ; and, like 
 Fluellen, declares, " that such idle pribble prab- 
 bles were contrary to all the good customs and 
 disciplines of war." Nevertheless, the custom of 
 crying the slogan, or ensenzie, is often alluded to 
 in all our ancient histories and poems. It was 
 usually the name of the clan, or place of rendez- 
 vous, or leader. In 1335, the English, led by 
 Thomas of Rosslyne, and William Moubray, as- 
 saulted Aberdeen. The former was mortally 
 wounded in the onset ; and, as his followers were 
 pressing forward, shouting Rosslyne! Rosslyne ! 
 W " Cry Moubray," said the expiring chieftain ; 
 
BOEDER BALLADS. 
 
 369 
 
 "With gun and genzie, * bow and spier, 
 Men might see mony a cracked crown ! 
 
 But up amang the merchant geir, 
 They were as busy as we were down. 
 
 The swallow tail frae tackles flew, f 
 
 Five hundreth flain £ into a flight, 
 But we had pestelets anow, 
 
 And shot among them as we might. 
 
 With help of God the game gaed right, 
 Frae time the foremost of them fell ; 
 
 Then ower the know without goodnight, 
 They ran with mony a shout and yell. 
 
 But after they had turned backs, 
 
 Tet Tindaill men they turned again ; 
 And had not been the merchant packs, § 
 
 There had been mae of Scotland slain. 
 
 But, Jesu ! if the f. Iks were fain 
 To put the bussing on their thies ; 
 
 And so they fled, wi' a' their main, 
 Down ower the brae, like clogged bees. 
 
 Sir Francis Eussel ta'en was there, j] 
 And hurt, as we hear men rehearse; 
 
 j 
 
 " Rosslyne is gone!" The Highland clans had 
 also their appropriate slogans. The Maedonalds j 
 cried Frich, (heather ; ) the Macphersons, Craig- 
 Ubh ; the Grants Craig-Etachie ; and the Macfar- 
 lanes Loch Sloy. — Scott. 
 * Genzie — Engine of war. 
 f The Scots, on this occasion, seem to have had 
 chiefly fire-arms ; the English retaining still 
 their partiality for their ancient weapon, the j 
 long bow. It also appears, by a letter from the 
 Duke of Norfolk to Cecil, that the English bor- 
 derers were unskilful in fire-arms, or, as he says, ; 
 "oure un try men be not so commyng with shots \ 
 as I woolde wishe.'' — See Murdin's State Papers, \ 
 vol. i. p. 319.— Scott. 
 
 £ Flain — Arrows ; hitherto absurdly printed 
 tlain. 
 
 § The ballad-maker here ascribes the victory to | 
 the real cause ; for the English borderers, dis- j 
 persing to plunder the merchandise, gave the I 
 opposite party time to recover from their surprise. ] 
 It seems to have been usual for travelling mer- j 
 chants to attend border meetings, although one [ 
 would have thought the kind of company, usually 
 assembled there, might have deterred them. — I 
 Scott. 
 
 j This gentleman was son to the earl of Bed- | 
 ford. He was afterwards killed in a fray of a «| 
 
 Proud Wallinton was wounded sair, «| 
 Albeit he be a Fennick fierce. 
 But if ye wald a souldier search, 
 
 Among them a' were ta'en that night, 
 "Was nane sae wordie to put in verse, 
 
 As Collingwood, that courteous knight. 
 
 Young Henry Schafton, ft he is hurt ; 
 
 A souldier shot him wi' a bow : 
 Scotland has cause to mak' great sturt, 
 
 For laiming of the laird of Mow. ±± 
 
 The Laird's Wat did weel, indeed ; 
 His friends stood stoutlie by himsel', 
 
 "With little Gladstain, gude in need, 
 For Gretein kend na gude be ill. §§ 
 
 The Sheriffe wanted not gude will, 
 Howbeit he might not fight so fast ; 
 
 Beanjeddart, Hundlie, and Hunthill, ||[| 
 Three, on they laid weel at the last. 
 
 similar nature, at a border-meeting between the 
 same Sir John Forster (father-in-law to Russell), 
 and Thomas Kerr of Fairnihurst, A. D. 15S5.— 
 Scott. * 
 
 If Fenwick of "Wellington, a powerful North • 
 umbrian chief. — Scott. 
 
 ** Sir Cuthbert Collingwood. Besides these 
 gentlemen, James Ogle, and many other North 
 umbrians of note, were made prisoners. Sit 
 George Heron, of Chipehase and Ford, was slain, 
 to the great regret of both parties, being a man 
 highly esteemed by the Scots as well as the Eng- 
 lish. When the prisoners were brought t:> Mor- 
 ton, at Dalkeith, and, among other presents, 
 received from him some Scottish falcons, one of 
 his train observed, that the English were nobly 
 treated, since they got live hawks for dead herons. 
 —Godscrajl.— Scott. 
 
 ft The name of this gentleman does not appeal 
 in the MS. in the Advocates' Library, but is re- 
 stored from a copy in single sheet, printed early 
 in the last century. — Scott. 
 
 ±± An ancient family on the borders. The 
 lands of Mowe are situated upon the river Bow- 
 mont, in Roxburghshire. The family is now 
 represented by William Molle, Esq. of Mains, 
 who has restored the ancient spelling of the name 
 The laird of Mowe, here mentioned, was the only 
 gentleman of note killed in the skirmish on the 
 Scottish side.— Scott. 
 
 §§ Graden, a family of Kens. 
 
 Ulj Douglas of Beanjeddart, an ancient branch 
 2a 
 
70 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 Except the horsemen of the guard, 
 If I could put men to availe, 
 
 None stoutlier stood out for their laird, 
 Nor did the lads of Liddisdail. 
 
 But little harness had we there ; 
 
 But auld Badreule had on a jack, * 
 And did right weel, I you declare, 
 
 With all his Trumbills at his back. 
 
 Gude Edderstane was not to lack, f 
 Nor Kirktoun, Newton, noble men ! i 
 
 & Thirs all the specials I of speake, 
 
 By others that I could not ken. 
 
 "Who did invent that day of play, 
 
 We need not fear to find him soon ; 
 For Sir John Forster, I dare well say, 
 
 Made us this noisome afternoon. 
 
 Not that 1 speak preeeislie out, 
 That he supposed it would be perril ,- 
 
 But pride, and breaking out of feuid, 
 Garr'd Tindaill lads begin the quarrel. 
 
 of the house of Cavers, possessing property near 
 the junction of the Jed and Teviot. 
 
 Hundlie. — Rutherford of Hundlie, or Hundalee, 
 situated on the Jed above Jedburgh. 
 
 Hunthill — The old tower of Hunthill was situ- 
 ated about a mile above Jedburgh. It was the 
 patrimony of an ancient family of Eutherfords. 
 I suppose the person, here meant, to be the same 
 who is renowned in tradition by the name of the 
 Cock of Hunthill. His sons were executed for 
 march-treason, or border-theft, along with the 
 lairds of Corbet, Greenhead, and Overton, A. D. 
 1588.— Johnston's History, p. 129.— Scott. 
 
 * Sir Andrew Turnbull of Bedrule, upon Rule 
 Water. This old laird was so notorious a thief, 
 that the principal gentlemen of the clans of Hume 
 and Kerr refused to sign a bond of alliance, to 
 which he, with the Turnbulls and Rutherfords, 
 was a party ; alleging that their proposed allies 
 had stolen Hume of Wedderburn's cattle. The 
 authority of Morton, however, compelled them 
 to digest the affront. The debate (and a curious 
 one it is) may be Eeen at length in Godscroft, vol. 
 i. p. 221. The Rutherfords became more lawless 
 after having been deprived of the countenance of 
 the court, for slaying the nephew of Forman, 
 archbishop of St Andrews, who had attempted 
 to carry off the heiress of Rutherford. This lady 
 was afterwards married to James Stuart of Tra- 
 quair, son to James, earl of Buchan, according 
 to a papal bull, dated 9th November, 1504. By 
 this lady a great estate in Tiviotdale fell to the 
 family of Traquair, which was sold by James, 
 earl of Traquair, lord -high-treasurer of Scotland, 
 in consequence of the pecuniary difficulties to 
 which he was reduced, by his loyal exertions in j 
 favour of Charles I. — Scolt. 
 
 f An ancient family of Rutherfords ; I believe, 
 indeed, the most ancient now extant. The 
 family is represented by John Rutherford, Esq. 
 of Edgerstane. His seat is about three miles 
 distant from the field of battle.— Scott. 
 
 ~Mnmmt IMIie. 
 
 [In the year 1596, William Armstrong of Kin- 
 mont, a noted border trooper, was taken prisoner 
 by the warden of the western marches of England, 
 and lodged in Carlisle castle. This was in defi- 
 ance of a truce which then existed between the 
 wardens of the borders. The lord of Buccleugh, 
 who had the charge of Liddesdale, after in vain 
 demanding that Kinmont Willie should be set 
 at liberty, gallantly took the castle of Carlisle by 
 surprise one night with a body of 200 men, and 
 effected the prisoner's delivery. The consequences 
 of the enteiprize are thus mentioned by Spottis- 
 wood:— "This fell out the 13th of April, 1596. 
 The queen of England, having notice sent her of 
 what was done, stormed not a little. One of her 
 chief castles surprised, a prisoner taken forth of 
 the hands of the warden, and carried away, so 
 far within England, she esteemed a great affront. 
 The lieger, Mr Bowes, in a frequent convention 
 kept at Edinburgh, the 22d of May, did, as he 
 was charged, in a long oration, aggravate the 
 heinousness of the fact, concluding that peace 
 could not longer continue betwixt the two realms, 
 unless Bacleuch were delivered in England, to be 
 punished at the queen's pleasure. Bacleuch com- 
 pearing, and charged with the fact, made answer 
 — ' That he went not into England with intention 
 to assault any of the queen's houses, or to do 
 
 t The parish of Kirktoun belonged, I believe, 
 about this time, to a branch of the Cavers family ; 
 but Kirkton of Stewartfield is mentioned in the 
 list of border clans in 1597. 
 
 Newton. — This is probably Grinyslaw of Little 
 Newton, mentioned in the said roll of border 
 clans. — Scott. 
 
BORDER BALLADS. 3*7 J 
 
 wrong to any of her subjects, but only to relieve & (ancestor of the duke of Roxburgh,) appear to 
 
 ibject of Scotland unlawfully taken, and 
 unlawfully detained ; that, in the time of a gen- 
 eral assurance, in a day of truce, he was taken 
 prisoner against all order, neither did he attempt 
 his relief till redress was refused ; and that he had 
 carried the business in such a moderate manner, 
 as no hostility was committed, nor the least 
 wrong offered to any within the castle ; yet was 
 he content, according to the ancient treaties ob- 
 served betwixt the two realms, when as mutual 
 injuries were alleged, to be tried by the commis- 
 sioners that it should please their majesties to 
 appoint, and submit himself to that which they 
 should decern.' — The convention, esteeming the 
 answer reasonable, did acquaint the ambassador 
 therewith, and offered to send commissioners to 
 the borders, with all diligence, to treat with such 
 as the queen should be pleased to appoint for her 
 part." 
 
 "This affair of Kinmont Willie," says Sir 
 Walter Scott, " was not the only occasion upon 
 which the undaunted keeper of Liddesdale gave 
 offence to the haughty Elizabeth. For, even be- 
 fore this business was settled, certain of the 
 English borderers having invaded Liddesdale, 
 and wasted the country, the laird of Buccleuch 
 retaliated the injury by a raid into England, in 
 which he not only brought off much spoil, but 
 apprehended thirty-six of the Tynedale thieves, 
 all of whom he put to death. How highly the 
 queen of England's resentment blazed on this 
 occasion, may be judged from the preface to her 
 letter to Bowes, then her ambassador in Scotiand. 
 * I wonder how base-minded that king thinks 
 me, that, with patience, I can digest this dis- 
 honourable Let him know, 
 
 therefore, that I will have satisfaction, or else . 
 
 ' These broken words of ire 
 
 are inserted betwixt the subscription and the 
 address of the letter. Indeed, so deadly was the 
 resentment of the English, on account of the 
 affronts put upon them by this formidable chief- 
 tain, that there seems at one time to have been 
 a plan formed (not, as was alleged, without 
 Elizabeth's privity,) to assassinate Buccleuch. 
 The matter was at length arranged by the com- 
 missioners of both nations in Berwick, by whom 
 it was agreed that delinquents should be delivered 
 up on both sides, and that the chiefs themselves 
 should enter into ward in the opposite countries 
 till these were given up, and pledges granted for 
 the future maintenance of the quiet of the bor- 
 ders. Buccleuch, and Sir Robert Ker of Cessford 
 
 have struggled hard against complying with this 
 regulation; so much so, that it required all 
 James's authority to bring to order these two 
 powerful chiefs. When at length they appeared, 
 for the purpose of delivering themselves up to be 
 warded at Berwick, an incident took place, which 
 nearly occasioned a revival of the deadly feud 
 which formerly subsisted between the Scots and 
 the Kers. Buccleuch had chosen, for his guardian, 
 during his residence in England, Sir William 
 Selby, master of the ordnance at Berwick, and 
 accordingly gave .himself into his hands. Sir 
 Robert Ker was about to do the same, when a 
 pistol was discharged by one of his retinue, and 
 the cry of treason was raised. Had not the earl 
 of Home been present, with a party of Merse men, 
 to preserve order, a dreadful tumult would pro- 
 bably have ensued. As it was, the English com- 
 missioners returned in dismay to Berwick, much 
 disposed to wreak their displeasure on Buccleuch ; 
 and he, on his side, mortally offended with Cess- 
 ford, by whose means, as he conceived, he had 
 been placed in circumstances of so much danger. 
 Sir Robert Ker, however, appeased all parties, by 
 delivering himself up to ward in England ; on 
 which occasion, he magnanimously chose for his 
 guardian Sir Robert Carey, deputy-warden of the 
 east marches, notwithstanding various causes of 
 animosity which existed betwixt them. The 
 hospitality of Carey equalled the generous confi- 
 dence of Cessford, and a firm friendship was the 
 consequence. Buccleuch appears to have re- 
 mained in England from October, 1597, till Feb- 
 ruary, 1598. According to ancient family tradi- 
 tion, Buccleuch was presented to Elizabeth, who, 
 with her usual rough and peremptory address, 
 demanded of him, 'how he dared to undertake 
 an enterprize so desperate and presumptuous.' 
 ' What is it,' answered the undaunted chieftain, 
 ' What is it that a man dares not do ?' Eliza- 
 beth, struck with the reply, turned to a lord in 
 waiting ; ' With ten thousand such men,' said 
 she, 'our brother of Scotland might shake the 
 firmest throne of Europe.' Luckily, perhaps, for 
 the murtheress of queen Mary, James's talents 
 did not lie that way. 
 
 " The articles, settled by the commissioners at 
 Berwick, were highly favourable to the peace of 
 the border. By article sixth, all wardens and 
 keepers are discharged from seeking reparation of 
 injuries, in the ancient hostile mode of riding, or 
 causing to ride, in warlike manner against the 
 opposite march; and that under the highest 
 

 
 
 
 372 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 
 penalty, unless authorized by a warrant under {& Now word is gane to the bauld Keeper, 
 
 
 
 the hand of their sovereign. The mention of the 
 
 In Branksome Ha', where that he lay, 
 
 
 
 word keeper, alludes obviously to the above-men- 
 
 That Lord Scroop has ta'en the Kinmont 
 
 
 
 tioned reprisals, made by Buccleuch, in the 
 
 Willie, 
 
 
 
 capacity of keeper of Liddesdale. 
 
 Between the hours of night and day. 
 
 
 
 " This ballad is preserved, by tradition, on the 
 
 
 
 
 west borders, but much mangled by reciters : so 
 
 He has ta'en the table wi' his hand, 
 
 
 
 that some conjectural emendations have been 
 
 He garr'd the red wine spring on hie — 
 
 
 
 absolutely necessary to render it intelligible. In 
 
 " Now Christ's curse on my head," he said, 
 
 
 
 particular, the Eden has been substituted for the 
 
 "But avenged of Lord Scroop I'll be ! 
 
 
 
 Eske, the latter name being inconsistent with 
 
 
 
 
 geography."] 
 
 "0 is my basnet a widow's curch ? 
 
 Or my lance a wand of the willow tree ? 
 
 
 
 O have ye na heard o' the fause Sakelde ? 
 
 Or my arm a ladye's lilye hand, 
 
 
 
 O have ye na heard o' the keen Lord Scroop ? 
 
 That an English lord should lightly me ! 
 
 
 
 How they ha' ta'en bauld Kinmont Willie, 
 
 
 
 
 On Hairibee to hang him up ?* 
 
 ., '* And have they ta'en him, Kinmont Willie, 
 Against the truce of border tide ? 
 
 
 
 Had Willie had but twenty men, 
 
 And forgotten that the bauld Buccleuch 
 
 
 
 But twenty men as stout as he, 
 
 Is Keeper here on the Scottish side f 
 
 
 
 Fause Sakelde had never the Kinmont ta'en. 
 
 
 
 
 Wi' eight score in his cumpanie. 
 
 "And have they e'en ta'en him, Kinmont 
 Willie, 
 
 
 
 They band his legs beneath the steed, 
 
 Withouten either dread or fear ? 
 
 
 
 They tied his hands behind his back; 
 
 And forgotten that the bauld Buccleuch 
 
 
 
 They guarded him, fivesome on each side, 
 
 Can back a steed, or shake a spear ? 
 
 
 
 And they brought him ower the Liddel-rack.f 
 
 " were there war between the lands, 
 
 
 
 They led him thro' the Liddel-rack, 
 
 As well I wot that there is none, 
 
 
 
 And also thro' the Carlisle sands ; 
 
 I would slight Carlisle castell high, 
 
 
 
 They brought him to Carlisle castell, 
 
 Tho' it were builded of marble stone. 
 
 
 
 To be at my Lord Scroop's commands. 
 
 "I would set that castell in a low, 
 
 
 
 " My hands are tied, but my tongue is free, 
 
 And sloken it with English blood ! 
 
 
 
 And whae will dare this deed avow ? 
 
 There's nevir a man in Cumberland, 
 
 
 
 Or answer by the border law ? 
 
 Should ken where Carlisle castell stood. 
 
 
 
 Or answer to the bauld Buccleuch !" 
 
 " But since nae war's between the lands, 
 
 
 
 "Now haud thy tongue, thou rank reiver! 
 
 And there is peace, and peace should be ; 
 
 
 
 There's never a Scot shall set ye free : 
 
 I'll neither harm English lad or lass, 
 
 
 
 Before ye cross my castle yate, 
 
 And yet the Kinmont freed shall be '." 
 
 
 
 I trow ye shall take farewell o' me." 
 
 He has call'd him forty marchmen bauld, 
 
 
 
 "Fear na ye that, my lord," quo' Willie : 
 
 I trow they were of his ain name, 
 
 
 
 " By the faith o' my body, Lord Scroop," he 
 
 Except Sir Gilbert Elliot caU'd, 
 
 
 
 said, 
 
 The laird of Stobs, 1 mean the same. 
 
 
 
 " I never yet lodged in a hostelrie, 
 
 
 
 
 But I paid my lawing before I gaed." 
 
 He has call'd him forty marchmen bauld, 
 
 Were kinsmen to the bauld Buccleuch ; 
 
 With spur on heel, and splent on spauld, \ 
 
 
 
 
 * Hairibee is the place of execution at Carlisle. 
 —Seott. 
 t The Liddel rack is a ford on the Liddel.— 
 
 And gleuves of green, and feathers blue. 
 
 
 
 
 Scott. $ 
 
 ? $ Splent on spauld — Armour on shoulder. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
BOEDER BALLADS. 
 
 73 
 
 There were five and five before them a', 
 Wi' hunting horns and bugles bright ; 
 
 And five and five came wi" Buccleuch, 
 Like warden's men, arrayed for fight : 
 
 4nd five and five, like a mason gang, 
 That carried the ladders lang and hie ; 
 
 And five and five, like broken men; 
 
 And so they reached the Woodhouselee. * 
 
 And as we eross'd the Bateable Land, 
 When to the English side we held, 
 
 The first o' men that we met wi', 
 
 Whae sould it be but fause Sakelde ? 
 
 " Where be ye gaun, ye hunters keen ?" 
 Quo' fause Sakelde ; " come tell to me !" 
 
 " We go to hunt an English stag, 
 
 Has trespassed on the Scots countrie." 
 
 " Where be ye gaun, ye marshal men ?*' 
 
 Quo' fause Sakelde ; " come tell me true !" j 
 
 " We go to catch a rank reiver, 
 
 Has broken faith wi" the Bauld Buccleuch." I 
 
 * Woodhouselee ; a house on the border, be- 
 longing to Buccleuch. 
 
 The Salkeldes, or SakeHes, were a powerful 
 family in Cumberland, possessing, among other 
 manors, that of Corby, before it came into the 
 possession of the Howards, in the beginning of 
 the seventeenth century. A strange stratagem 
 was practised by an outlaw, called Jock Grame j 
 of the Peartree, upon Mr Salkelde, sheriff of 
 Cumberland ; who is probably the person alluded 
 to in the ballad, as the fact is stated to have hap- 
 pened late in Elizabeth's time. The brother of | 
 this free-booter was lying in Carlisle jail for exe- 
 cution, when Jock of the Peartree came riding 
 past the gate of Corby castle. A child of the 
 sheriff was playing before the door, to whom the 
 outlaw gave an apple, saying, " Master, will you 
 ride?" The boy willingly consenting-, Grame 
 took him up before him, carried him into Scot- 
 land, and would never part with him, till he had 
 his brother safe from the gallows. There is no 
 historical ground for supposing, either that Sal- 
 kelde, or any one else, lost his life in the raid of 
 Carlisle. 
 
 In the Ust of Border clans, 1597, Will of Kin- 
 month, with Kyrstie Armestrange, and John 
 Skynbank, are mentioned as leaders of a band of 
 Armstrongs called Sandies Barnes, inhabiting 
 the Debateable Land. — Scott. 
 
 " Where are ye gaun, ye mason lads, 
 Wi' a' your ladders, lang and hie ?" 
 
 " We gang to herry a corbie's nest, 
 
 That wons not far frae Woodhouselee." 
 
 " Where be ye gaun, ye broken men ?" 
 Quo' fause Sakelde ; " come tell to me !' 
 
 Now Dickie of Dryhope led that band, 
 And the never a word o' lear had he. 
 
 " Why trespass ye on the English side ? 
 
 Row-footed outlaws, stand !" quo' he; 
 The never a word had Dickie to say, 
 
 Sae he thrust the lance through his fause 
 bodie. 
 
 Then on we held for Carlisle toun, 
 
 And at Staneshaw-bank the Eden we 
 eross'd ; 
 The water was great and meikle of spait, 
 
 But the nevir a horse nor man we lost. 
 
 And when we reached the Staneshaw-bank, 
 The wind was rising loud and hie ; 
 
 And there the laird garr'd leave our steeds, 
 For fear that they should stamp and nie. 
 
 And when we left the Staneshaw-bank, 
 The wind began full loud to blaw ; 
 
 But 'twas wind and weet, and fire and sleet, 
 When we came beneath the castle wa\ 
 
 We crept on knees, and held our breath, 
 Till we placed the ladders against the \va' ; 
 
 And sae ready was Buccleuch himsell 
 To mount the first, before us a'. 
 
 He has ta'en the watchman by the throat, 
 He flung him down upon the lead — 
 
 " Had there not been peace between our land, 
 Upon the other side thou hadst gaed ! — 
 
 "JSTow sound out, trumpets;" quo' Buccleuch ; 
 
 " Let's waken Lord Scroop, right merrilie !" 
 Then loud the warden's trumpet blew — 
 
 " O whadare meddle wi' me ?" 
 
 Then speedilie to work we gaed, 
 And raised the slogan ane and a', 
 
 And cut a hole thro' a sheet of lead, 
 And so we wan to the castle ha'. 
 
 The name of a border tune- 
 
374 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 They thought King James and a' his men 
 Had won the house wi' how and spear ; 
 
 It was but twenty Scots and ten, 
 That put a thousand in sic a stear ! 
 
 Wi 1 coulters, and wi' fore-hammers, 
 We garr'd the bars bang merrilie, 
 
 Until we cam' to the inner prison, 
 Where Willie o' Kinmont he did lie. 
 
 And when we cam' to the lower prison, 
 Where Willie o' Kinmont he did lie — 
 
 " O sleep ye, wake ye, Kinmont Willie, 
 Upon the morn that thou's to die ?" 
 
 "01 sleep saft, and I wake aft ; 
 
 It's lang since sleeping was fleyed frae me ! 
 Gie my service back to my wife and bairns, 
 
 And a' gude fellows that spier for me." 
 
 Then Red Rowan has hente him up, 
 The starkest man in Teviotdale — 
 
 " Abide, abide now, Red Rowan, 
 
 Till of my Lord Scroop I take farewell. 
 
 " Farewell, farewell, my gude Lord i-'croope ! 
 
 My gude Lord Scroope, farewell '." he cried- 
 " I'll pay you for my lodging maill, 
 
 When first we meet on the border side." 
 
 Then shoulder high, with shout and cry, 
 We bore him down the ladder lang ; 
 
 At every stride Red Rowan made, 
 
 I wot the Kinmont's aims played clang ! 
 
 "O mony a time," quo' Kinmont Willie, 
 " I have ridden horse baith wild and wood ; 
 
 But a rougher beast than Red Rowan, 
 I ween my legs have ne'er bestrode. 
 
 "And mony a time," quo' Kinmont Willie, 
 " I've pricked a horse out oure the furs ; 
 
 But since the day I backed a steed, 
 I never wore sic cumbrous spurs !" 
 
 We scarce had won the Staneshaw-bank, 
 When a' the Carlisle bells were rung, 
 
 And a thousand men, in horse and foot, 
 Cam' wi' the keen Lord Scroope along. 
 
 Buccleuch has turned to Eden water, 
 Even where it flowed frae bank to brim, 
 
 And he has plunged in wi' a' his band, 
 And safely swam them thro' the stream. 
 
 He turned him on the other side, 
 
 And at Lord Scroope his glove flung he 
 
 " If ye like na my visit in merry England. 
 In fair Scotland come visit me !" 
 
 All sore astonished stood Lord Scroope, 
 He stood as still as rock of stane ; 
 
 He scarcely dared to trew his eyes, 
 When thro' the water they had gane 
 
 " He is either himsell a devil frae hell, 
 Or else his mother a witch maun be ; 
 
 I wad na have ridden that wan water, 
 For a' the gowd in Christentie." 
 
 With tn' tfje ®ofo. 
 
 ["This ballad, and Jock o* the Side, which 
 immediately follows it, were first published, 1784, 
 in the Hawick Museum, a provincial miscellany, 
 to which they were communicated by John Elliot, 
 Esq. of Reidheugh, a gentleman well skilled in 
 the antiquities of the western border, and to 
 whose friendly assistance the editor is indebted 
 for many valuable communications. These bal- 
 lads are connected with each other, and appear 
 to have been composed ^ y the same author. The 
 actors seem to have flourished while Thomas 
 lord Scroope, of Bolton, was warden of the west 
 marches of England, and governor of Carlisle 
 castle ; which offices he acquired upon the death 
 of his father, about 1590, and retained till the 
 union of the crowns. Dick of the Cow, from the 
 privileged insolence which he assumes, seems to 
 have been lord Scroope's jester. In the prelimi- 
 nary dissertation, the reader will find the border 
 custom of assuming nommes de guerre particu- 
 larly noticed. It is exemplified in the following 
 ballad, where one Armstrong is called the Laird's 
 Jock (i. e. the laird's son Jock), another Fair 
 Johnie, a third Billie Willie (brother Willie), &c. 
 The Laird's Jock, son to the laird of Mangerton, 
 appears, as one of the men of name in Liddesdale, 
 in the list of border clans, 1597. Dick of the Cow 
 is erroneously supposed to have been the same 
 with one Ricardus Coldall, de Plumpton, a knight 
 and celebrated warrior, who died in 1462, as ap- 
 pears from his epitaph in the church of Penrith. 
 — Nicholson's History of Westmoreland and 
 Cumberland, vol. ii. p. 408. This ballad is very 
 

 
 
 
 BOEDER BALLADS. 375 
 
 
 popular in Liddesdale ; and the reciter always ' 
 
 i Then on the morn when the day wa3 light, 
 
 
 
 adds, at the conclusion, that poor Dickie's cau- 
 
 The shouts and cries rase loud and hie : 
 
 
 
 tious removal to Burgh under Stanemore did not 
 
 " haud thy tongue, my wife," he says, 
 
 
 
 save him from the clutches of the Armstrongs ; 
 
 " And 0' thy crying let me be ! 
 
 
 
 for that, having fallen into their power several 
 
 
 
 
 years after this exploit, he was put to an inhuman 
 
 " 0, had thy tongue, my wife," he says, 
 
 
 
 death. The ballad was well known in England 
 
 " And 0' thy crying let me be ; 
 
 
 
 so early as 1596. An allusion to it likewise occurs 
 
 And ay where thou hast lost ae cow, 
 
 
 
 in Parrot's Laquei Bidiculosi, or Springes for 
 
 In gude suith I shall tring thee three." 
 
 
 
 "Woodcocks; London, 1613. 
 
 Now Dickie's gane to the gude lord Scroope, 
 
 
 
 Owenus wondreth since lie came 10 Wales, 
 
 And I wat a dreirie fule was he ; 
 
 
 
 "What the description of this isle should be, 
 That cere had seen but mountains, hills, and dales, 
 
 Yet would he boast, and stand on pedigree, 
 From Bice ap Richard, sprung from Dick a Cow, 
 
 "Now haud thy tongue, my fule," he says, 
 "For I may not stand to jest wi' thee." 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Be cod, was right gud gentleman, look ye now ! 
 
 " Shame fa' your jesting, my lord '." quo' 
 
 
 
 Border Minstrelsy.] 
 
 Dickie, 
 " For nae sic jesting grees wi' me ; 
 
 
 
 ISow Liddesdale has Iayen lang in, 
 
 Liddesdale's been in my house last night, 
 
 
 
 There is na ryding there at a' ; 
 
 And they ha'e awa' my three kye frae me. 
 
 
 
 The horses are a' grown sae lither fat, 
 
 
 
 
 They downa stir out 0' the sta'. 
 
 " But I may nae langer in Cumberland dwell, 
 To be your puir fule and your leal, 
 
 
 
 Fair Johnie Armstrang to "Willie did say — 
 
 Unless you gi'e me leave, my lord 
 
 
 
 " Billy, a riding we will gae ; 
 
 To gae to Liddesdale and steal." 
 
 
 
 England and us have been lang at feid ; 
 
 
 
 
 Ablins we'll light on some bootie." 
 
 " I gi'e thee leave, my fule i" he says ; 
 
 " Thou speakest against my honour and me, 
 
 
 
 Then they are come on to Hutton Ha' ; 
 
 Unless thou gi'e me thy trowth and thy hand, 
 
 
 
 They rade that proper place about ; 
 
 Thou'lt steal frae nane but whae sta' frae 
 
 
 
 But the laird he was the wiser man, 
 
 thee." 
 
 
 
 For he had left nae gear without. 
 
 " There is my trowth, and my right hand ! 
 
 
 
 For he had left nae gear to steal, 
 
 My head shall hang on Hairibee ; 
 
 
 
 Except sax sheep upon a lee : 
 
 I'll ne'er cross Carlisle sands again, 
 
 
 
 Quo* Johnie — " I'd rather in England die, 
 
 If I steal frae a man but whae sta' frae me." 
 
 
 
 Ere thir sax sheep gae to Liddesdale wi' me. 
 
 Dickie's ta'en leave 0' lord and master ; 
 
 
 
 " But how ca' they the man we last met, 
 
 I wat a n.erry fule was he ! 
 
 
 
 Billie, as we cam owre the know ?" 
 
 He's bought a bridle and a pair 0' new spurs, 
 
 
 
 " That same he is an innocent fule, 
 
 And packed them up in his breek thie. 
 
 
 
 And men they call him Dick 0' the Cow." 
 
 Then Dickie's come on to Pudding-burn 
 
 
 
 " That fule has three as good kye 0' his ain, 
 
 house, * 
 
 
 
 As there are in a' Cumberland, billie," quo' 
 
 E'en as fast as he might drie ; 
 
 
 
 he: 
 
 Then Dickie's come on to Pudding-burn, 
 
 
 
 " Betide me life, betide me death, 
 
 Where there were thirty Armstrangs and 
 
 
 
 These kye shall go to Liddesdale wi' me." 
 Then they have come on to the pure fule's house, 
 
 three. 
 
 
 
 
 And they ha'e broken his wa's sae wide ; 
 
 * This was a house of strength, held by the 
 
 
 
 They have loosed out Dick 0' the Cow's three 
 
 Armstrongs. The ruins at present form a sheep- 
 
 
 
 kye, 
 
 fold, on the farm of Keidsmoss, belonging to the 
 
 
 
 And ta'en three co'erlets frae his wife's bed. ^ 
 
 5 Duke of Buccleuch.— Scutt. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
376 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 O what's this come o' me now ?" quo* Dickie ; & He has tied them a' wi' St Mary's knot, 
 
 What mickle wae is this ?" quo' he ; 
 " For here is but ae innocent fule, 
 
 And there are thirty A rmstrangs and three !" 
 
 Yet he has come up to the fair ha' board, 
 Sae weil he's become his courtesie ; 
 
 '• Weil may ye be, my gude Laird's Jock ! 
 But the de'il bless a' your cumpanie. 
 
 " I'm come to 'plain o' your man, fair Johnie 
 Armstrang, 
 
 And syne o' his billie Willie," quo' he ! 
 " How they've been in my house last night, 
 
 And they ha'e ta'en my three kye frae me." 
 
 "Ha 1 " quo* fair Johnie Armstrang, " we will 
 him hang." 
 
 " Na," quo' Willie, "we'll him slae." 
 Then up and spak' another young Armstrang, 
 
 " We'll gae him his batts, and let him gae." 
 
 But up and spak' the gude Laird's Jock, 
 The best falla in a' the cumpanie : 
 
 " Sit down thy ways a little while, Dickie, [ye." 
 And a piece o' thy ain cow's hough I'll gi'e 
 
 But Dickie's heart it grew sae grit, 
 
 That the ne'er a bit o't he dought to eat- 
 Then he was aware of an auld peat-house, 
 Where a' the night he thought for to sleep. 
 
 Then Dickie was aware of an auld peat-house, 
 Where a' the night he thought for to lye — 
 
 And a' the prayers the pure fule prayed 
 
 Were, " I wish I had amends for my gude 
 three kye I" 
 
 It was then the use of Pudding-burn house, 
 And the house of Mangerton, all hail, 
 
 Them that cam' na at the first ca', 
 
 Gat nae mair meat till the neist meal. 
 
 The lads, that hungry and weary were, 
 
 Abune the door-head they threw the key • 
 
 Dickie he took gude notice o' that, 
 
 Says — " There will be a bootie for me." 
 
 Then Dickie has in to the stable gane, 
 
 Where there stood thirty horses and three ; 
 
 He has tied them a wi' St Mary's knot, 
 A' these horses but barely three. 
 
 * Gi'e him his batts — Dismiss him with a beating. 
 
 A' these horses but barely three ; 
 He's loupen on ane, ta'en another in hand, 
 And away as fast as he can hie. 
 
 quo' the gude 
 
 But on the morn, when the day grew light, 
 The shouts and cries raise loud and hie — 
 
 " Ah ! whae has done thii 
 Laird's Jock, 
 " Tell me the truth and the verity »• 
 
 "Whae has done this deed?" quo' the gude 
 Laird's Jock ; 
 " See that to me ye dinna lie '." 
 " Dickie has been in the stable last night, 
 And has ta'en my brother's horse and mine 
 frae me." 
 
 " Ye wad ne'er be tald," quo' the gude Laird's 
 Have ye not found my tales fu' leil ? [Jock ; 
 
 Ye ne'er wad out o' England bide, 
 
 Till crooked, and blind, and a' would steal." 
 
 " But lend me thy bay," fair Johnie can say : 
 " There's nae horse loose in the stable save 
 he; 
 
 And I'll either fetch Dick o' the Cow again, 
 Or the day is come that he shall die." 
 
 " To lend thee my bay !" the Laird's Jock can 
 say, 
 
 " He's baith worth gowd and gude monie ; 
 Dick o' the Cow has awa' twa horse ; 
 
 I wish na thou may make him three." 
 
 He has ta'en the laird's jack on his back, 
 A twa-handed sword to hang by his thie ; 
 
 He has ta'en a steil cap on his head, 
 And gallopped on to follow Dickie. 
 
 Dickie was na a mile frae aff the town, 
 1 wat a mile but barely three, 
 
 f Hamstringing a horse is termed, in the bor- 
 der dialect, tying him with St Mary's knot. 
 Dickie used this cruel expedient to prevent a 
 pursuit. It appears from the narration, that 
 the horses, left unhurt, belonged to fair Johnie 
 Armstrang, his brother Willie, and the Laird's 
 Jock, of which Dickie carried off two, and left 
 that of the Laird's Jock, probably out of grati- 
 tude for the protection he had afforded him on 
 
BORDER BALLADS. 
 
 377 
 
 "When he was o'erta'en by fair Johnie Arm-ife 
 Strang, 
 Hand for hand, on Cannobie lee.* 
 
 " Abide, abide, thou traitour thief ! 
 
 The day is come that thou maun die." 
 Then Dickie look't owre his left shoulder, 
 
 Said — " Johnie, hast thou nae mae in cum- 
 panie ? 
 
 " There is a preacher in our chapell, 
 And a' the live lang day teaches he : 
 
 "When day is gane and night is come, 
 There's ne'er ae word 1 mark but three. 
 
 " The first and second is — Faith and Conscience ; 
 
 The third — Ne'er let a traitour free : 
 But, Johnie, what faith and conscience was 
 thine, 
 
 When thou took awa' my three kye frae me ? 
 
 " And when thou had ta'en awa' my three kye, 
 Thou thought in thy heart thou wast not 
 weil sped, 
 
 Till thou sent thy billie "Willie ower the know, 
 To tak' thrie coverlets off my wife's bed !" 
 
 Then Johnie let a speir fa' laigh by his thie, 
 Thought weil to ha'e slain the innocent, I 
 trow; 
 
 But the powers above were mair than he, 
 For he ran but the pure fule's jerkin through. 
 
 Together they ran, or ever they blan ; 
 
 This was Dickie the fule and he ! 
 Dickie could na win at him wi' the blade o' the 
 sword, 
 
 Butfell'dhim wi' the plummet under thee'e. 
 
 Thus Dickie has fell'd fair Johnie Armstrang, 
 The prettiest man in the south country — 
 
 *' Gramercy !" then can Dickie say, 
 
 " 1 had but twa horse, thou hast made me 
 thrie!" 
 
 He's ta'en the steil jack aff Johnie's back, 
 The twa -handed sword that hang low by his 
 thie; 
 
 He's ta'en the steil cap aff his head — 
 
 " Johnie, I'll tell my master I met wi' thee." 
 
 * A rising-ground on Cannobie, on the borders 
 of Liddesdale — Scott. 
 
 When Johnie wakened out o' his dream. 
 
 I wat a dreirie man was he : 
 " And is thou gane ? Now, Dickie, than 
 
 The shame and dule is left wi' me. 
 
 " And is thou gane ? Now, Dickie, than 
 
 The de'il gae in thy cumpanie ! 
 For if I should live these hundred years, 
 
 I ne'er shall fight wi' a fule after thee." — 
 
 Then Dickie's come hame to the gude Lord 
 Scroope, 
 
 E'en as fast as he might hie ; 
 " Now, Dickie, I'll neither eat nor drink, 
 
 Till hie hangtd thou shalt be." 
 
 "The shame speed the liars, my lord!" quo' 
 Dickie ; 
 
 This was na the promise ye made to me ! 
 For I'd ne'er gane to Liddesdale to steal, 
 
 Had I not got my leave frae thee." 
 
 "But what garr'd thee steal the Laird's Jock's 
 
 horse? 
 
 And, limmer, what garr'd ye steal him?" 
 
 quo' he ; 
 
 For lang thou mightst in Cumberland dwelt, 
 
 Ere the Laird's Jock had stown frae thee."f 
 
 f The commendation of the Laird's Jock's hon- 
 esty seems but indifferently founded ; for, in July 
 15S6, a bill was fouled against him, Dick of Dry- 
 up, and others, by the deputy of Bewcastle, at a 
 warden-meeting, for 400 head of cattle taken in 
 open forray from the Drysike in Bewcastle : and 
 in September 15S7, another complaint appears at 
 the instance of one Andrew Rutledge of the Nook, 
 against the Laird's Jock, and his accomplices, 
 for 50 kine and oxen, besides furniture, to the 
 amount of 100 merks sterling. See Bell's MSS., 
 as quoted in the History of Cumberland and 
 Westmoreland. In Sir Richard Maitlands poem 
 against the thieves of Liddesdale, ho thus com- 
 memorates the Laird's Jock : 
 
 They spuilye puir men of thair pakis, 
 They leif them nocht on bed nor bakis; 
 Bait'h hen and coi, 
 With red and rok, 
 The Lairdis Joes 
 All with him takis. 
 
 Those, who plundered Dick, had been bred up 
 under an expert teacher. 
 Tradition reports, that the Laird's Jock sur» 
 
373 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 " Indeed I wat ye lied, my lord ! \ 
 
 And e'en sae loud as 1 hear ye lie ! 
 
 I wan the horse frae fair Johnie Armstrang, 
 Hand to hand, on Cannobie lee. 
 
 " There is the jack was on his back ; 
 
 This twa-handed sword hang laigh by his thie, 
 And there's the steil cap was on his head ; 
 
 I brought a' these tokens to let thee see." 
 
 " If that be true thou to me tells, 
 
 (And I think thou dares na tell a lie,) 
 
 I'll gi'e thee fifteen punds for the horse, 
 Weil tald on thy cloak lap shall be. 
 
 " I'll gi'e thee ane o' my best milk kye, 
 To maintain thy wife and children thrie ; 
 
 And that may be as gude, I think, 
 As ony twa o' thine wad be." 
 
 "The shame speed the liars, my lord!" quo' 
 Dickie ; 
 
 " Trow ye aye to make a fule o' me ? 
 I'll either ha'e twenty punds for the gude horse, 
 
 Or he's gae to Mortan fair wi' me." 
 
 He's gi'en him twenty punds for the gude horse, 
 
 A* in goud and gude monie ; 
 He's gi'en him ane o' his best milk kye, 
 
 To maintain his wife and children thrie. 
 
 vived to extreme old age, when he died in the 
 following extraordinary manner. A challenge 
 had been given by an Englishman, named For- 
 ster, to any Scottish borderer, to fight him at a 
 place called Kershope-foot, exactly upon the 
 borders. The Laird's Jock's only son accepted 
 the defiance, and was armed by his father with 
 his own two-handed sword. The < Id champion 
 himself, though bed ridden, insisted upon being 
 present at the battle. He was borne to the place 
 appointed, wrapped, it is said, in blankets, and 
 placed upon a very high stone to witness the 
 conflict. In the duel his son fell, treacherously 
 slain, as the Scotch tradition affirms. The old 
 man gave a loud yell of terror and despair when 
 he saw his son slain and his noble weapon won 
 by an Englishman, and died as they bore him 
 home. A venerable border poet (though of these 
 later days) has composed a poem on this roman- 
 tic incident. The stone on which the Laird's 
 Jock sat to behold the duel, was in existence till 
 wantonly destroyed a year or two since. It was 
 always called " The Laird's Jock'3 Stone." — Scolt. 35 
 
 Then Dickie's come down thro' Carlisle toun, 
 
 E'en as fast as he could drie ; 
 The first o' men that he met wi', 
 
 Was my lord's brother, bailiff Glozenburrie. 
 
 " Weil be ye met, my gude Ralph Scroope !" 
 " Welcome, my brother's fule !" quo' he : 
 " Where didst thou get fair Johnie Armstrang's 
 horse ?" 
 " Where did I get him ? but steal him, 
 quo' he. 
 
 "But wilt thou sell me the bonnie horse ? 
 
 And, billie, wilt thou sell him to me ?" quo* 
 
 he : [lap : 
 
 " Ay ; if thou'lt tell me the monie on my cloak 
 
 For there's never ae penny I'll trust thee." 
 
 "I'll gi'e thee ten punds for the gude horse, 
 Weil tald on thy cloak lap they shall be ; 
 
 And I'll gi'e thee ane o' the best milk kye, 
 To maintain thy wife and children thrie." 
 
 " The shame speid the liars, my lord !" quo* 
 Trow ye aye to mak' a fule o' me ! [Dickie ; 
 
 I'll either ha'e twenty punds for the gude horse, 
 Or he's gae to Mortan fair wi' me." 
 
 He's gi'en him twenty punds for the gude horse, 
 
 Baith in goud and gude monie ; 
 He's gi'en him ane o' his best milk kye, 
 
 To maintain his wife and children thrie. 
 
 Then Dickie lap a loup fu' hie, 
 
 And I wat a loud laugh laughed he— 
 " I wish the neck o' the third horse were 
 
 broken, 
 If ony of the twa were better than he >." 
 
 Then Dickie'3 come hame to his wife again ; 
 
 Judge ye how the poor fule had sped ! 
 He has gi'en her twa score English punds, 
 
 For the thrie auld coverlets ta'en aff her bed. 
 
 " And tak' thee these twa as gude kye, 
 I trow, as a' thy thrie might be ; 
 
 And yet here is a white-footed nagie, 
 I trow he'll carry baith thee and me. 
 
 " But I may nae langer in Cumberland bide ; 
 
 The Armstrangs they would hang me hie." 
 So Dickie's ta'en leave at lord and master, 
 
 And at Burgh under Stanmuir there dwells 
 he. 
 
BOEDER BALLADS. 
 
 379 
 
 Jorife o' t|f jbfi&«. 
 
 ["Thb subject of this ballad/' says Sir Walter 
 Scott," being a common event in those trouble- 
 some and disorderly times, became a favourite 
 theme of the ballad-makers. Jock o' the Side 
 seems to have been nephew to the laird of Man- 
 gertoun, cousin to the Laird's Jock, one of his 
 deliverers, and probably brother to Chrystie of 
 the Syde, mentioned in the list of border clans, 
 1597. Like the Laird's Jock, he also is com- 
 memorated by Sir Richard Maitland. — See the 
 Introduction. 
 
 He is weilkend, Johne of the Syde, 
 A greater thief did never ryde ; 
 He never tyris, 
 For to brek byris, 
 Our muir and myris 
 Ouir gude ane guide. 
 
 Jock o* the Side appears to have assisted the 
 earl of Westmoreland in his escape after his un- 
 fortunate insurrection with the earl of Northum- 
 berland, in the twelfth year of Elizabeth. " The 
 two rebellious rebels went into Llddesdale in 
 Scotland, yesternight, where Martin Ellwood 
 (Elliot) and others, that have given pledges to 
 the regent of Scotland, did raise their forces 
 against them ; being conducted by black Ormes- 
 ton, an outlaw of Scotland, that was a principal 
 murtherer of the king of Scots, where the fight 
 was offered, and both parties alighted from their 
 horses; and, in the end, Ell wood said to Ormes- 
 ton, he would be sorry to enter deadly feud with 
 him by bloodshed ; but he would charge him and 
 the rest before the regent for keeping of the 
 rebels ; and if he did not put them out of the 
 country, the next day, he would doe his worst 
 again them; whereupon, the two earls were 
 driven to leave Liddesdale, and to fly to one of 
 the Armstrongs, a Scot upon the batable (de- 
 bateable land) on the borders between Liddes- 
 dale and England. The same day the Liddesdale 
 men stole the horses of the countess of North- 
 umberland, and of her two women, and ten 
 others of their company; so as, the earls being 
 gone, the lady of Northumberland was left there 
 on foot, at John of the Side's house, a cottage 
 not to be compared to many a dog-kennel in 
 England. At their departing from her, they 
 went not above fifty horse, and the earl of West- 
 
 moreland, to be the more unknown, changed his 
 coat of plate and sword with John of the Side, 
 and departed like a Scottish borderer." — Adver- 
 tisements from Hexham, 22d December, 1569, in 
 the Cabala, p. 160. 
 
 The land-serjeant, mentioned in this ballad, 
 and also that of Hobbie Noble, was an ofScer 
 under the warden, to whom was committed the 
 apprehending of delinquents, and the care of the 
 public peace."] 
 
 Now Liddesdale has ridden a raid, 
 
 But I wat they had better ha'e staid at 
 hame; 
 
 For Michael o' Winfield he is dead, 
 
 And Jock o' the Side is prisoner ta'en. 
 
 For Mangerton house Lady Downie has gane, 
 Her coats she has kilted up to her knee ; 
 
 And down the water wi' speed she rins, 
 While tears in spaits fa' fast frae her e'e. 
 
 Then up and spoke our gude auld lord — 
 
 " What news, what news, sister Downie, to 
 me ?" 
 " Bad news, bad news, my Lord Mangerton ; 
 Michael is killed, and they ha'e ta'en my son 
 Johnie." 
 
 "Ne'er fear, sister Downie," quo' Mangerton; 
 
 "I have yokes of ousen, eighty and three ; 
 My barns, my byres, and my faulds a' weil fill'd, 
 
 I'll part wi' them a' ere Johnie shall die. 
 
 " Three men I'll send to set him free, 
 A' harneist wi' the best o' steil ; 
 
 The English louns may hear, and drie 
 The weight o' their braid-swords to feel. 
 
 " The Laird's Jock ane, tbe Laird's Wat twa, 
 O Hobbie Noble, thou ane maun be ! 
 
 Thy coat is blue, thou hast been true, 
 Since England banish'd thee to me." 
 
 Now Hobbie was an English man, 
 
 In Bewcastle dale was bred and born : 
 
 But his misdeeds they were sae great, 
 They banish'd him ne'er to return. 
 
 Lord Mangerton them orders gave, 
 
 " Your horses the wrang way maun be 
 shod; 
 
 Like gentlemen ye mauna seim, 
 
 But look like corn-caugers ga'en the road. 
 

 
 
 
 3§0 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 
 " Your armour gude ye mauna shaw, 4fe " Full fifteen stane o' Spanish iron, 
 
 
 
 Nor yet appear like men o' weir ; 
 
 They ha'e laid a' riglit sair on me ; 
 
 
 
 As country lads be a' array'd, 
 
 Wi' locks and keys I am fast bound 
 
 
 
 Wi' branks and brecham on each mare." 
 
 Into this dungeon dark and dreirie." 
 
 
 
 Sae now their horses are the wrang way shod, 
 
 j " Fear ye na' that," quo' the Laird's Jock 
 
 
 
 And Hobbie has mounted his grey sae fine ; 
 
 "A faint heart ne'er wan a fair ladie ; 
 
 
 
 Jock his lively bay, Wat's on his white horse 
 
 | Work thou within, we'll work without, 
 
 
 
 behind, 
 
 And I'll be sworn we'll set thee free." 
 
 
 
 And on they rode for the water of Tyne. 
 
 1 
 
 The first strong door that they cam' at, 
 
 
 
 At the Cholerford they all light down, [moon, 
 
 They loosed it without a key ; 
 
 
 
 And there, wi' the help of the light o' the 
 
 The next chain'd door that they cam' at, 
 
 
 
 A tree they cut, wi' fifteen nogs on each side, 
 
 They garr'd it a' to flinders flee. 
 
 
 
 To climb up the wa' of Newcastle toun. 
 
 The prisoner now upon his back, 
 
 
 
 But when they came to Newcastle toun, 
 
 The Laird's Jock has gotten up fu' hie ; 
 
 
 
 And were alighted at the wa', 
 
 And down the stairs, him, aims and a' 
 
 
 
 They fand their tree three ells ower laigh, 
 
 Wi' nae sma' speid and joy, brings he. 
 
 
 
 They fand their stick baith short and sma'. 
 
 "Now, Jock, my man," quo' Hobbie Noble, 
 
 
 
 Then up and spak' the Laird's ain Jock ; 
 
 " Some o' his weight ye may lay on me. 
 
 
 
 "There's naething for't; the gates we maun 
 
 "I wat weil no !" quo' the Laird's ain Joe*, 
 
 
 
 But when they cam' the gate until], [force." 
 
 "I count him lighter than a flee." 
 
 
 
 A proud porter withstood baith men and 
 
 
 
 
 horse. 
 
 Sae out at the gates they a' are gane, 
 The prisoner's set on horseback hie ; 
 
 
 
 His neck in twa the Armstrangs wrang ; 
 
 And now wi' speid they've ta'en the gate, 
 
 
 
 Wi' fute or hand he ne'er play'd pa ! 
 
 While ilk ane jokes fu' wantonlie : 
 
 
 
 His life and his keys at anes they ha'e ta'en, 
 
 
 
 
 And cast the body ahind the wa'. 
 
 " Jock ! sae winsomely's ye ride, 
 Wi' baith your feet upon ae side ; 
 
 
 
 Now sune they reach Newcastle jail, 
 
 Sae weel ye're harniest, and sae trig, 
 
 
 
 And to the prisoner thus they call ; 
 
 In troth ye sit like ony bride '." 
 
 
 
 " Sleeps thou, wakes thou, Jock o' the Side, 
 
 
 
 
 Or art thou weary of thy thrall ?" 
 
 The night, tho' wat, they did na mind, 
 But hied them on fu' merrilie, 
 
 
 
 Jock answers thus, wi' dulefu* tone ; 
 
 " Aft, aft, I wake — I seldom sleep : 
 But whae's this kens my name sae weil, 
 
 Until they cam' to Cholerford brae,* 
 
 Where the water ran like mountains hie. 
 
 
 
 And thus to mese* my waes does seik ?" 
 
 But when they cam' to Cholerford, 
 
 
 
 Then out and spak' the gude Laird's Jock, 
 
 There they met with an auld man ; 
 
 
 
 " Now fear ye na, my billie," quo' he ; 
 
 Says — " Honest man, will the water ride ? 
 
 
 
 "For here are the Laird's Jock, the Laird's 
 
 Tell us in haste, if that ye can." 
 
 
 
 Wat, 
 
 
 
 
 And Hobbie Noble, come to set thee free." 
 
 "I wat weel no," quo' the gude auld man ; 
 " I ha'e lived here thretty years and thrie, 
 
 
 
 "Now haud thy tongue, my gude Laird's Jock, 
 
 And I ne'er yet saw the Tyne sae big, 
 
 
 
 For ever, alas J this canna be ; 
 
 Nor running anes sae like a sea." 
 
 
 
 For if a' Liddesdale were here the night, 
 The morn's the day that I maun die. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 * Cholerford brae— A ford upon the Tyne, above 
 
 
 
 
 * Mese — Soothe. 3 
 
 Hexham, 
 
 
 
 
EORDER BALLADS. 
 
 3S1 
 
 Then oat and spoke the Laird's saft Wat, 
 The greatest coward in the cumpanie ; 
 
 " Now halt, now halt! we need na try't; 
 The day is come we a' maun die "' 
 
 'Puir faint-hearted thief!" cried the Laird'; 
 ain Jock, 
 " There'l nae man die but him that's fie ; ' 
 I'll guide ye a' right safely thro' ; 
 Lift ye the pris'ner on ahint me." 
 
 Wi' that the water they ha'e ta'en, 
 
 By ane's and tvva's they a' swam thro' ; 
 
 " Here are we a' safe," quo' the Laird's Jock, 
 " And, puir faint Wat, what think ye now ?' 
 
 They scarce the other brae had won, 
 When twenty men they saw pursue ; 
 
 Frae Newcastle toun they had been sent, 
 A' English lads baith stout and true. 
 
 But when the land-serjeant the water saw, 
 " It winna ride, my lads," says he ; 
 
 Then cried aloud — "The prisoner take, 
 But leave the fetters, I pray, to me." 
 
 " I wat weil no," quo' the Laird's Jock ; 
 
 " I'll keep them a' ; shoon to my marc they'i: 
 be, 
 My gude bay mare — for I am sure, 
 
 She has bought them a' right dear frae thee.' 
 
 Sae now they are on to Liddesdale, 
 E'en as fast as they could them hie ; 
 
 The prisoner is brought to's ain fire-side, 
 And there o's aims they mak' him free. 
 
 " Now, Jock, my billie," quo' a' the three, 
 " The day is com'd thou was to die ; 
 
 But thou's as weil at thy ain ingle side, 
 Now sitting, I think, 'twixt thee and me." 
 
 lilit HoWe* 
 
 [" Wk have seen," says Sir Walter," the hero 
 of this ballad act a distinguished part in the 
 deliverance of Jock o' the Side, and are now to 
 learn the ungrateful return which the Arm- 
 
 strongs made him for his faithful services, f 
 Halbert, or Hobbie Noble, appears to have been 
 one of those numerous English outlaws, who, 
 being forced to fly their own country, had estab- 
 lished themselves on the Scottish borders. As 
 Hobbie continued his depredations upon the 
 English, they bribed some of his hosts, the Arm- 
 strongs, to decoy him into England, under pre- 
 , tence of a predatory expedition. He was there 
 delivered, by his treacherous companions, into 
 the hands of the officers of justice, by whom he 
 was conducted to Carlisle, and executed next 
 morning. The laird of Mangerton, with whom 
 Hobbie was in high favour, is said to have taken 
 a severe revenge upon the traitors who betrayed 
 him. The principal contriver of the scheme, 
 called here Sim o' the Maynes, fled into England 
 from the resentment of his chief; but experi- 
 enced there the common fate of a traitor, being 
 himself executed at Carlisle, about two months 
 after Hobbie's death. Such is, at least, the tra- 
 dition of Liddesdale. Sim o' the Maynes appears 
 among the Armstrongs of Whitauch, in Liddes- 
 dale, in the list of clans so often alluded to. 
 Kershope-burn, where Hobbie met his trea- 
 
 Fie — Predestined. 
 
 t The original editor of the Reliques of Ancient 
 Poetry has noticed the perfidy of this clan in another 
 instance; the delivery of the banished earl of North- 
 umberland into the hands of the Scottish regent, by 
 Hector of Haie'aw, an Armstrong, with whom he had 
 taken refuge.— Reliques of Ancient Poetry, vol. i. p. 
 283.— This Hector of Harelaw seems to have been an 
 Englishman, or under English assurance; for he is 
 one of those against whom bills were exhibited by the 
 Scottish commissioners, to the lord-bishop of Carlisle. 
 —Introduction to the History of Westmoreland and 
 Cumberland, p. 81. In the list of borderers, 1597, 
 Hector of Harelaw, with the Griefs and Cuts of Hare- 
 law, also figures as an inhabitant of the Uebateable 
 Land. It would appear, from a spirited invective in 
 the Maitland MS. against the regent, and those who 
 delivered up the unfortunate earl to Elizabeth, that 
 Hector had been guilty of this treachery, to redeem 
 the pledge which had been exacted from him for his 
 peaceable demeanour. The poet says, that the perfidy 
 of Morton and Lochlevin was worse than even that 
 of- 
 
 — the traitour Eckie of Harelaw, 
 That says he sould him to redeem his pledge; 
 Your deed is war, as all the world does know— 
 You nothing can but covatice alledge. 
 
 Prukerton's Maitland Poems, vol. i. p. 290. 
 
 Eckie is the contraction of Hector among the 
 vulgar. 
 
 These little memoranda may serve still farther to 
 illustrate the beautiful ballads, upon that subject, 
 
 a^ published in the Reliques. 
 
382 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 cherous companions, falls into the Liddel, from & 
 the English side, at a place called Turnersholm, 
 where, according to tradition, tourneys and 
 games of chivalry were often solemnized. The 
 Mains was anciently a border-keep, near Castle- 
 toun, on the north side of the Liddel, but is now 
 totally demolished. 
 
 Askerton is an old castle, now ruinous, situated 
 in the wilds of Cumberland, about seventeen 
 miles north-east of Carlisle, amidst that moun- 
 tainous and desolate tract of country bordering 
 upon Liddesdale, emphatically termed the Waste 
 of Bewcastle. Conscouthart Green, and Roderic- 
 haugh, and the Foulbogshiel, are the names of 
 places in the same wilds, through which the 
 Scottish plunderers generally made their raids 
 upon England; as appears from the following 
 passage in a letter from William, lord Dacre, to 
 cardinal Wolsey, 18th July, 1528 ; Appendix to 
 Pinkerton's Scotland, v. 12, No. xix. " Like it 
 also your grace, seeing the disordour within 
 Scotlaund, and that all the mysguyded men, 
 borderers of the same, inhabiting within Eskdale, 
 Ewsdale, Walghopedale, Liddesdale, and a part 
 of Tividale, foranempt Bewcastelldale, and a 
 part of the middle marches of this the king's 
 bordours, entres not this west and middle 
 inarches, to do any attemptate to the king our 
 said soveraine's subjects : but thaye come thorow 
 Bewcastelldale, and retornes, for the most part, 
 the same waye agayne." 
 
 Willeva and Speir Edom are small districts in 
 Bevvcastledale, through which also the Hartlie- 
 burn takes its course. 
 
 Of the castle of Mangertoune, so often men- 
 tioned in these ballads, there are very few ves- 
 tiges. It was situated on the banks of the 
 Liddel, below Casteltoun. In the wall of a 
 neighbouring mill, which has been entirely built 
 from the ruins of the tower, there is a remarka- 
 ble stone, bearing the arms of the lairds of 
 Mangertoun, and a long broad-sword, with the 
 figures 1583 ; probably the date of building, or | 
 repairing, the castle. On each side of the shield 
 are the letters S. A. and E. E., standing proba- 
 bly for Simon Armstrong, and Elizabeth Elliot. 
 Such is the only memorial of the laird of Man- 
 gertoun, except those rude ballads, which the 
 eJitor now offers to the public] 
 
 Foul fa' the breast first treason bred in ! 
 
 That Liddesdale may safely say : 
 For in it there was baith meat and drink, 
 
 And corn unto our geldings gay. 
 
 And we were a' stout-hearted men, 
 As England she might often say ; 
 
 But now we may turn our backs and flee, 
 Since brave Noble is sold away. 
 
 Now Hobbie was an English man, • 
 
 And born into Bewcastle dale ; 
 But his misdeeds they were so great, 
 
 They banish'd him to Liddesdale. 
 
 At Kershope foot the tryst was set, 
 
 Kershope of the lilye lee ; 
 And there was traitor Sim o' the Mains, 
 
 And with him a private companie. 
 
 Then Hobbie has graithed his body fair 
 Baith wi' the iron and wi' the steil ; 
 
 And he has ta'en out his fringed grey, 
 
 And there, brave Hobbie, he raJe him weel. 
 
 Then Hobbie is down the water gane, 
 
 E'en as fast as he could hie ; [hearts, 
 
 Tho' a' should ha'e bursten and broken their 
 Frae that riding tryst he wad na be. 
 
 " Weel be ye met, my feres * five ! 
 
 And now, what is your will wi' me ?" 
 Then they cried a', wi' ae consent, 
 
 " Thou'rt welcome here, brave Noble, to me. 
 
 " Wilt thou with us into England ride, 
 And thy safe warrand we will be ? 
 
 If we get a horse, worth a hundred pound, 
 Upon his back thou sune sail be." 
 
 " I dare not by day into England ride ; 
 
 The land-serjeant has me at feid : 
 And I know not what evil may betide, 
 
 For Peter of Whitfield, his brother, is dead. 
 
 " And Anton Shiel he loves not me, 
 For 1 gat twa drifts o' his sheep ; 
 
 The great earl of Whitfield f loves me not, 
 For nae geer frae me he e'er could keep. 
 
 " But will ye stay till the day gae down, 
 Untill the night come o'er the grund, 
 
 And I'll be a guide worth ony twa, 
 That may in Liddesdale be found ? 
 
 * Feres— Companions. 
 
 t Earl of Whitfield— The editor does not know 
 who is here meant. It should perhaps be Ralph 
 Whitfield.— Scott. 
 

 
 
 
 BORDER BALLADS. 383 
 
 
 " Though the night be black as pick and tar, % 
 
 Then Hobbie Noble has dreimit a dreim, 
 
 
 
 I'll guide ye o'er yon hill sae hie 
 
 In the Foulbogshiel, where that he lay ; 
 
 
 
 And bring ye a' in safety back, 
 
 He dreimit his horse was aneith him shot, 
 
 
 
 If ye'll be true, and follow me." 
 
 And he himself got hard away. 
 
 
 
 He has guided them o'er moss and muir, 
 
 The cocks could craw, the day could daw, 
 
 
 
 O'er hill and hope, and mony a down ; 
 
 And 1 wot sae even fell down the rain ; 
 
 
 
 Until they came to the Foulbogshiel, 
 
 Had Hobbie na wakened at that time, 
 
 
 
 And there, brave Noble, he lighted down. 
 
 In the Foulbogshiel he had been ta'en or 
 slain. 
 
 
 
 But word is gane to the land-serjeant, 
 
 
 
 
 In Askerton where that he lay — 
 
 " Awake, awake, my feres five ! 
 
 
 
 " The deer, that ye ha'e hunted sae lang, 
 
 I true here makes a fu' ill day ; 
 
 
 
 Is seen into the Waste this day." 
 
 Yet the worst cloak o' this company, 
 I hope, shall cross the Waste this day." 
 
 
 
 " Then Hobbie Noble is that deer ! 
 
 
 
 
 I wat he carries the style fu' hie ; 
 
 Now Hobbie thought the gates were clear 
 
 
 
 Aft has he driven our bluidhounds back,* 
 
 But, ever alas ! it was na sae : 
 
 
 
 And set ourselves at little lee. 
 
 They were beset by cruel men and keen, 
 That away brave Hobbie might na gae. 
 
 
 
 " Gar warn the bows of Hartlie burn ; 
 
 
 
 
 See they sharp their arrows on the wa' • 
 
 " Tet follow me, my feres five, 
 
 
 
 Warn Willeva and Speir Edom, 
 
 And see ye keip of me guid ray ; 
 
 
 
 And see the morn they meet me a' 
 
 And the worst cloak o' this company 
 
 Even yet may cross the Waste this day." 
 
 
 
 " Gar meet me on the Rodric-haugh, 
 
 
 
 
 And see it be by break o' day ; 
 
 But the land-serjeant 's men came Hobbie 
 
 
 
 And we will on to Conscouthart-green, 
 
 before, 
 
 
 
 For there, 1 think, we'll get our prey." 
 
 The traitor Sim came Hobbie behin', 
 So had Noble been wight as Wallace was, 
 Away, alas 1 he might na win. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 • " The russet bloodhound, wont, near Annand's 
 
 Then Hobbie had but a laddie's sword ; 
 
 
 
 stream, 
 To trace the sly thief with avenging foot, 
 Close as an evil conscience still at hand." 
 
 But he did mair than a laddie's deed ,- 
 
 
 
 For that sword had cleared Conscouthart green, 
 
 
 
 
 Had it not broke o'er Jerswigham's head. 
 
 
 
 Our ancient statutes inform us, that the blood- 
 
 
 
 
 hound, or sluith-hound (so called from its quality 
 
 Then they ha'e ta'en brave Hobbie Noble, 
 
 
 
 of tracing the slot, or track, of men and animals), 
 
 Wi's ain bowstring they band him sae ; 
 
 
 
 was early used in the pursuit and detection of 
 
 But his gentle heart was ne'er sae sair, 
 
 
 
 marauders. Nullus perturbet , aut impediat canem 
 
 As when his ain five bound him on the brae. 
 
 
 
 trassantem, aut homines trassantes cum ipso, ad 
 
 
 
 
 sequendum latrones. — Regiam Majestatem, lib. 
 
 They ha'e ta'en him on for west Carlisle ; 
 
 
 
 4tus, cap. 32. And, so late as 1616', there was an 
 
 They asked him, if he kend the way ? 
 
 
 
 order from the king's commissioners of the 
 
 Tho' much he thought, yet little he said ; 
 
 
 
 northern counties, that a certain number of 
 
 He knew the gate as weel as they. 
 
 
 
 slough-hounds should be maintained in every 
 
 
 
 
 district of Cumberland, bordering upon Scotland. 
 
 1 They ha'e ta'en him up the Ricker-gate ; f 
 
 
 
 They were of great value, being sometimes sold 
 
 The wives they cast their windows wide ; 
 
 
 
 for a hundred crowns. — Exposition of Bleau's 
 
 And every wife to another can say, 
 
 
 
 Atlas, voce Nithsdale. The breed of this saga- 
 
 " That's the man loosed Jock o : the Side '." 
 
 
 
 cious animal, which could trace the human foot- 
 step with the most unerring accuracy, is now 
 
 
 
 \ 
 
 
 nearly extinct. — Scott. 
 
 & f A street in Carlisle. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
384 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 " Fy on ye, women ! why ca' ye me man ? 
 
 For it's nae man that I'm used like ; 
 I am but like a forfoughen * hound, 
 
 Has been fighting in a dirty syke." f 
 
 They ha'e had him up thro* Carlisle town, 
 And set him by the chimney fire ; 
 
 They gave brave Noble a loaf to eat, 
 And that was little his desire. 
 
 They gave him a wheaten loaf to eat, 
 
 And after that a can of beer ; 
 And they a' cried, with one consent, 
 
 " Eat, brave Noble, and make gude eheir ! 
 
 " Confess my lord's horse, Hobbie," they said, 
 " And to-morrow in Carlisle thou's na die." 
 
 " How can I confess them," Hobbie says, 
 " When I never saw them with my e'e ?" 
 
 Then Hobbie has sworn a fu' great aith, 
 Bi the day that he was gotten and burn, 
 
 He never had ony thing o' my lord's, 
 That either eat him grass or corn. 
 
 "Now fare thee weel, sweet Mangerton ! 
 
 For I think again I'll ne'er thee see : 
 I wad ha'e betrayed nae lad alive, 
 
 For a' the govvd o' Christentie. 
 
 " And fare thee weel, sweet Liddesdale ! 
 
 Baith the hie land and the law; 
 Keep ye weel frae the traitor Mains ! 
 
 For goud and gear he 11 sell ye a'. 
 
 " Yet wad I rather be ca'd Hobbie Noble, 
 In Carlisle, where he suffers for his fau't, 
 
 Than I'd be ca'd the traitor Mains, 
 
 That eats and drinks o' the meal and maut.' 
 
 [This is a bishoprick border song, composed in 
 1569, taken down from the chanting of George 
 Collingwood the elder, late of Boltsburn, in the 
 neighbourhood of Ryhope, who was interred at 
 Stanhope, the 16th December, 1785. 
 
 * Forfoughen— Quite fatigued. 
 f Syke— Ditch. 
 
 Rookhope is the name of a valley about five 
 miles in length ; at the termination of which, 
 Rookhope-burn empties itself in to the river Wear: 
 the dale lies in the north part of the parish of 
 Stanhope, in Weardale. Rookhope-head is the 
 top of the vale. The ballad derives some addi- 
 tional interest, from the date of the event being 
 so precisely ascertained to be the 6th December, 
 1572, when the Tynedale robbers, taking advan- 
 tage of the public confusion occasioned by the 
 rebellion of Westmoreland and Northumberland, 
 and which particularly affected the bishoprick of 
 Durham, determined to make this foray into 
 Weardale. The late eminent antiquary, Joseph 
 Ritson, took down this ballad from the mouth of 
 the reciter, and printed it as part of an intended 
 collection of border ballads, which was never 
 published. His nephew, Mr Frank, was so good 
 as to favour me with the copy from which it is 
 here given. To the illustration of Mr Ritson, I 
 have been enabled to add those of my friend Mr 
 Surtees.— Scott.'] 
 
 Rookhope stands in a pleasant place, 
 If the false thieves wad let it be, 
 
 But away they steal our goods apace, 
 And ever an ill death may they dee ! 
 
 And so is the man of Thirlwall and Willie- 
 haver, £ 
 
 And all their companies thereabout, 
 That is minded to do mischief, 
 
 And at their stealing stands not out. 
 
 if Thirlwall, or Thirlitwall, \s said by Fordun, 
 the Scottish historian, to be a name given to the 
 Picts' or Roman wall, from its having been 
 thirled, or perforated, in ancient times, by the 
 Scots and Picts. Wyntown also, who most pro- 
 bably copied Fordun, calls it Thirlwall. Thirl- 
 wall-castle, though in a very ruinous condition, 
 is still standing by the site of this famous wall, 
 upon the river Tippal. It gave name to the 
 ancient family, De Thirlwall. Willie-haver, or 
 Willeva, is a small district or township in the 
 parish of Lanercoat, near Bewcastledale, in Cum- 
 berland, mentioned in the preceding ballad of 
 Hobbie Noble ; 
 
 " Gar warn the bows of Hartilie-burn, 
 See they sharp their arrows on the wa 1 ; 
 
 Warn Willeva, and Spear Kdom, 
 
 And see the morn they meet me a'." 
 
BOEDER BALLADS. 
 
 385 
 
 But yet we will not slander them all, 
 
 For there is of them good enough ; 
 It is a sore consumed tree 
 
 That on it bears not one fresh bough- 
 Lord God ! is not this a pitiful ease, 
 
 That men dare not drive their goods to the 
 fell, 
 But limmer thieves drives them away, 
 
 That fears neither heaven nor hell. 
 
 Lord, send us peace into the realm, 
 That every man may live on his own ! 
 
 I trust to God, if it be his will, 
 
 That Weardale men may never be over- 
 thrown. 
 
 For great troubles they've had in hand, 
 
 With borderers pricking hither and thither. 
 
 But the greatest fray that e'er they had, 
 
 "VYas with the men of Thirlwall and Willie- 
 haver. 
 
 They gather'd together so royally, 
 
 The stoutest men and the best in gear ; 
 
 And he that rade not on a horse, 
 I wat he rade on a weil-fed mear. 
 
 So in the morning, before they came out, 
 So weel I wot they broke their fast ; 
 
 In the forenoon they came unto a bye fell, 
 Where some of them did eat their last. * 
 
 When they had eaten aye and done, 
 
 They say'd, sou.e captains here needs must be : 
 
 Then they choosed forth Harry Corbyl, 
 And " Syrrjon Fell," and Martin Ridley- 
 
 Then o'er the moss, where as they came, 
 
 With many a brank and whew, 
 One of them could to another say, 
 
 " I think this day we are men enew. 
 
 " For Weardale-men have a journey ta'en, 
 
 They are so far out o'er yon fell, 
 That some of them's with the two earls, f 
 
 And others fast in Bernard castell. 
 
 * This would be about eleven o'clock, the usual 
 dinner-hour in that period. — Scott. 
 
 f The two earls were Thomas Percy, earl of 
 Northumberland, and Charles Nevil, earl of 
 Westmoreland, who, on the 15th of November, 
 
 "There we shall get gear enough, 
 
 For there is nane but women at hame ; 
 
 The sorrowful fend that they can make, 
 Is loudly cries £ as they were slain." 
 
 Then in at Rookhope-head they came, 
 
 And there they thought tul a' had their prey, 
 
 But they were spy'd coming over the Dry-rig, 
 Soon upon Saint Nicholas' day. § 
 
 Then in at Rookhope-head they canie, 
 
 They ran the forest but a mile ; 
 They gather'd together in four hours 
 
 Six hundred sheep within a while. 
 
 And horses I trow they gat, 
 
 But either ane or twa, 
 And they gat them all but ane 
 
 That belanged to great Rowley. 
 
 That Rowley was the first man that did them 
 spy, 
 
 With that he raised a mighty cry ; 
 The cry it came down Rookhope-burn, 
 
 And spread through Weardale hasteyly. 
 
 Then word came to the bailif s house 
 At the East-gate, where he did dwell ; 
 
 1569, at the head of their tenantry and others, 
 took arms for the purpose of liberating Mary, 
 queen of Scots, and restoring the eld religion. 
 They besieged Bernard-castle, which was, for 
 eleven days, stoutly defended by Sir George 
 Bowes, who, afterward, being appointed the 
 queen's marshal, hanged the poor constables and 
 peasantry by dozens in a day, to the amount of 
 800. The earl of Northumberland, betrayed by 
 the Scots, with whom he had taken refuge, was 
 beheaded at York, on the 22d of August, 1572 ; 
 and the earl of Westmoreland, deprived of the 
 ancient and noble patrimony of the Nevils, and 
 reduced to beggary, escaped over sea, into Flan- 
 ders, and died in misery and disgrace, being the 
 last of his family. See two ballads on this sub- 
 ject, in Percy's Collection, (i. 271, 281), and con- 
 sider whether they be genuine. — Ritsoit. — Scott. 
 
 t This is still the phraseology of Westmoreland: 
 a poorly man, a softly day, and the like. — Scott. 
 
 § The 6th of December. 
 
 || Now a straggling village so called ; originally,, 
 it would seem, the pate-house, or ranger's lodge, 
 at the east entrance of Stanhope-park. At some 
 2b 
 

 
 
 
 ggg SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 
 He was walk'd out to the Smale-burns, { 
 
 His brother was hurt three days before, 
 
 
 
 "Which stands above the Hanging-well.* 
 
 With limmer thieves that did him prick 
 Nineteen bloodv wounds lay him upon, 
 
 
 
 His wife was wae when she heard tell, 
 
 What ferly was't that he lay eick ? 
 
 
 
 So well she wist her husband wanted gear ; 
 
 
 
 
 She gar'd saddle him his horse in haste, 
 
 But yet the bailif shrinked nought, 
 
 
 
 And neither forget sword, jack, f nor spear. 
 
 But fast after them he did hye, 
 And so did all his neighbours near, 
 
 
 
 The bailif got wit before his gear came, 
 
 That went to bear him company. 
 
 
 
 That such news was in the land, 
 
 
 
 
 He was sore troubled in his heart, 
 
 But when the bailif was gathered, 
 
 
 
 That on no earth that he could stand. 
 
 And all his company, 
 They were number'd to never a man 
 But forty under fifty. 
 
 
 
 
 distance from this place is West-gate, so called 
 
 
 
 
 for a similar reason. — Ritson. 
 
 The thieves was numbered a hundred men, 
 
 
 
 " The mention of the bailifs house at the East- 
 
 I wat they were not of the worst ; 
 
 
 
 gate is (were such a proof wanting) strongly 
 
 That could be choosed out of Thirlwall and 
 
 
 
 indicative of the authenticity of the ballad. The 
 
 Willie-haver 
 
 
 
 family of Emerson of East-gath, a fief, if I may 
 
 I trow they were the very first. £ 
 
 
 
 so call it, held under the bishop, long exercised 
 
 
 
 
 the office of bailiff of Wolsingham, the chief town 
 
 But all that was in Rookhope-head, 
 
 
 
 and borough of Weardale, and of Forster, &c, 
 
 And all that was i' Nuketon-cleugh, 
 
 
 
 under successive prelates; and the present bi- 
 
 Where Weardale-men o'ertook the thieves, 
 
 
 
 shop's gamekeeper and ranger within Weardale, 
 
 And there they gave them fighting eneugh. 
 
 
 
 may be said to claim his office by maternal 
 
 
 
 
 descent, being Emerson Muschamp (another 
 
 So sore they made them fain to flee, 
 
 
 
 ancient name) and, though somewhat shorn of 
 
 As many was a' out of hand, 
 
 
 
 his beams, the lineal heir of the old bailiffs of 
 
 And, for tul have been at home again, 
 
 
 
 Weardale. 
 
 They would have been in iron bands. 
 
 
 
 " Rob. Emerson Parcarius de Stanhopp 13 Aug. 
 
 
 
 
 7 Rob. Nevill Epi. 
 
 And for the space of long seven years 
 
 
 
 " Cuthb. Emerson de Eastgat sub Forestar. 
 
 As sore they mighten a' had their lives, 
 
 
 
 Parci de Stanhopp 1 Wolsey 
 
 But there was never one of them 
 
 
 
 " Lease of the East-gate to Mr George Emerson 
 
 That ever thought to have seen their wives. 
 
 
 
 . for 30 years, 10J. p. ann. 4. Ed. C. Bp. Tunstall. 
 
 
 
 
 "Rob. Emerson de Eastgat. sede vacante p. 
 
 About the time the fray began, 
 
 
 
 depriv. Tunstall parcar. Dne Regine. 
 
 I trow it lasted but an hour, 
 
 
 
 " Geo. et Ric. Emerson Ballivi de Wolsingham 
 
 Till many a man lay weaponless, 
 
 
 
 p. palens. 12 Sept. 1616, sicut Geo. Rolli vel 
 
 And was sore wounded in that stour. 
 
 
 
 Rollands Emerson olim tenuere." — Surtees. — 
 
 
 
 
 Scott. 
 
 Also before that hour was done, 
 
 
 
 * A place in the neighbourhood of East-gate, 
 
 Four of the thieves were slain, 
 
 
 
 known at present, as well as the Dry-rig, or 
 
 Besides all those that wounded were, 
 
 
 
 Smale-burns ; being the property of Mr Robert 
 
 And eleven prisoners there was ta'en. 
 
 
 
 Richardson, by inheritance, since before 1583. — 
 
 
 
 
 Ritson.— Scott. 
 
 George Carrick, and his brother Edie, 
 
 
 
 t A jacket, or short coat, plated or instiched 
 
 Them two, I wot, they were both slain ; 
 
 
 
 with small pieces of iron, and usually worn by 
 
 Harry Corbyl, and Lennie Carrick, 
 
 
 
 the peasantry of the border in their journeys 
 from place to place, as well as in their occasional 
 
 Bore them company in their pain. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 skirmishes with the moss-troopers, who were 
 
 % The reciter, from his advanced age, could 
 
 
 
 most probably equipped with the same sort of 
 
 not recollect the original line thus imperfectly 
 
 
 
 harness.— Ritson.— Scott. $ 
 
 5 supplied. — Ritson. — Scott. 
 
 
 
 . . 
 
 
 
BORDER BALLADS. 
 
 SSI 
 
 One of our Weardale-men was slain, 
 Rowland Emerson his name hight ; 
 
 I trust to God his soul is well, 
 
 Because he fought unto the right. 
 
 But thus they say'd, We'll not depart 
 While we have one :— Speed hack again ! 
 
 And when they came amongst the dead men, 
 There they found George Carrick slain. 
 
 And when they found George Carrick slain, 
 I wot it went well near their heart; 
 
 Lord let them never make a better end, 
 That comes to play them sicken a part. 
 
 I trust to God, no more they shall, 
 Except it be one for a great chance ; 
 
 For God will punish all those 
 With a great heavy pestilence. 
 
 Thir limmer thieves, they have good hearts, 
 They never think to be o'erthrown ; 
 
 Three banners against Wear-dale men they bare, 
 As if the world had been all their own. 
 
 Thir Weardale-men, they have good hearts, 
 
 They are as stiff as any tree ; 
 For, if they'd every one been slain, 
 
 Never a foot back man would flee. 
 
 And such a storm amongst them fell, 
 As I think you never heard the like ; 
 
 For he that bears his head so high, 
 He oft-times falls into the dyke. 
 
 And now I do entreat you all, 
 
 As many as are present here, 
 To pray for the singer of this song, 
 
 For he sings to make blithe your cheer. 
 
 [Ca'field, or Calfield, is a place in Wauchopdale, 
 belonging of old to the Armstrongs. In theaccoun t 
 betwixt the English and Scottish marches, Jock 
 and Geordie of Ca'field, there called Calfhill, are 
 repeatedly marked as delinquents. — History of 
 Westmoreland and Cumberland, vol. i. Introduction, 
 p. 33. " Mettled John Hall , from the laigh Tiviot- 
 dale," is perhaps John Hall of Newbigging, men- 
 tioned in the list of border clans, as one of the 
 chief men of name residing on the middle marches 
 in 1597.— Scott.] 
 
 As I was a walking mine alane, 
 It was by the dawning of the day, 
 
 I heard twa brithers make their mane, 
 And I listened weel to what they did say. 
 
 The youngest to the elder said, 
 
 " Blythe and merrie how can we be ? 
 
 There were three brithren of us born, 
 And ane of us is condemned to die." 
 
 "An' ye wad be merrie, an' ye wad be sad, 
 What the better wad billie Archie be f 
 
 Unless I had thirty men to mysell, 
 And a' to ride in my cumpanie. 
 
 '* Ten to hald the horses' heads, 
 
 And other ten the watch to be, 
 And ten to break up the strong prison, 
 
 Where billy Archie he does lie." 
 
 Then up and spak' him mettled John Hall, 
 (The luve of Teviotdale aye was he) 
 
 "An' I had eleven men to mysell, 
 It's aye the twalt man I wad be." 
 
 Then up bespak' him coarse Ca'field, 
 (I wot and little gude worth was he) 
 
 " Thirty men is few anew, 
 
 And a' to ride in our cumpanie." 
 
 There was horsing, horsing in haste, 
 And there was marching on the lee ; 
 
 Until they cam' to Murray whate, 
 
 And they lighted there right speedilie. 
 
 "A smith ! a smith !" Dickie he cries, 
 " A smith, a smith, right speedilie, 
 
 To turn back the caukers of our horses' shoon ! 
 For it's unkensome f we wad be." 
 
 " There lives a smith on the water side, 
 Will shoe my little black mare for me; 
 
 And I've a crown iu my pocket, 
 And every groat of it I wad gi'e." 
 
 " The night is mirk, and it's very mirk, 
 And by candle light I canna weel see ; 
 
 The night is mirk, and it's very pit mirk, 
 And there will never a nail ca' right for me." 
 
 * Billy— Brother. 
 
 f Unkensome — Unknown. 
 
SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 " Shame fa' you and your trade baith, ^fe 
 
 Canna beetf a gude fellow by your mystery! ^ 
 
 But leeze me on thee, my little black mare, 
 Thou's worth thy weight in gold to me." 
 
 There was horsing, horsing in haste, 
 And there was marching upon the lee; 
 
 Until they cam' to Dumfries port, 
 
 And they lighted there right speedilie. 
 
 " There's fire of us will hold the horse, 
 
 And other five will watchmen be : 
 But wha's the man, amang ye a*, 
 
 Will gae to the Tolbooth door wi' me ?" 
 
 O up then spak' him mettled John Hall, 
 
 (Frae the laigh Tlviotdale was he) 
 "If it should cost my life this very night, 
 
 I'll gae to the Tolbooth door wi' thee." 
 
 "Be of gude chelr, now, Archie, ladl 
 
 Be of gude cheir, now, dear billie ! 
 Work thou within, and we without, 
 
 And the morn thou'se dine at Ca'field wi'me." 
 
 O Jockie Hall stepped to the door, 
 
 And he bended low back his knee ; 
 And he made the bolts, the door hang on, 
 
 Loup frae the wa' right wantonlie. 
 
 He took the prisoner on his back, 
 
 And down the Tolbooth stair cam' he ; 
 
 The black mare stood ready at the door, 
 I wot a foot ne'er Btirred she. 
 
 They laid the links out ower her neck, 
 And that was her gold twist to be ; § 
 
 And they cam' down thro' Dumfries toun, 
 And wow but they cam' speedilie. 
 
 The live lang night these twelve men rade, 
 And aye till they were right wearie, 
 
 Until they came to the Murraywhate, 
 And they lighted there right speedilie. 
 
 "A smith ! a smith !" then Dickie he cries, 
 
 " A smith, a smith, right speedilie, 
 To file the irons frae my dear brither! 
 
 Tor forward, forward we wad be." 
 
 f Beet— Abet, aid. 
 
 % Mystery — Trade. — See Shakespeare. 
 
 § The Gold Twist means the small gilded ^ 
 
 They had na filed a shackle of iron, 
 A shackle of iron but barely thrie, 
 
 When out and spak' young Simon brave, 
 " O dinna ye see what I do see ? 
 
 "Lol yonder comes Lieutenant Gordon, 
 Wi' a hundred men in his cumpanie ; 
 
 This night will be our lyke-wake night, 
 The morn the day we a' maun die." 
 
 O there was mounting, mounting in haste, 
 And there was marching upon the lee ; 
 
 Until they cam' to Annan water, 
 And it was flowing like the sea. 
 
 "My mare is young and very skeigh, fl 
 And in o' the weil *|[ she will drown me; 
 
 But ye'll take mine, and I'll take thine, 
 And sune through the water we sail be." 
 
 Then up and spak' him, coarse Ca'field, 
 (I wot and little gude worth was he) 
 
 " We had better lose ane than lose a' the lave ; 
 We'll lose the prisoner, we'll gae free." 
 
 "Shame fa' you and your lands baith ! 
 
 Wad ye e'en*< your lands to your born billy ? 
 But hey ! bear up, my bonnie black mare, 
 
 And yet thro' the water we sail be." 
 
 Now they did swim that wan water, 
 And wow but they swam bonnilie! 
 
 Until they cam' to the other side, [drunkily. 
 And they wrang their cloathea right 
 
 "* Come thro', come thro', Lieutenant Gordon ! 
 
 Come thro' and drink some wine wi* me 1 
 For there is an ale-house here hard by, 
 
 And it shall not cost thee ae penny." 
 
 "Throw me my irons," quo' Lieutenant Gor- 
 " I wot they cost me dear aneugh." fdon ; 
 
 " The shame a ma," quo' mettled John Ha', 
 "They'll be gude shackles to my pleugh." 
 
 " Come thro', come thro*, Lieutenant Gordon » 
 Come thro' and drink some wine wi' me 1 
 
 Yestreen I was your prisoner, 
 
 But now this morning am I free." 
 
 chains drawn across the chest of a war-horse, as 
 a part of his caparison. — Scott. 
 
 || Skeigh— Shy. T Weil— Eddy. 
 
 ** E'en — Even, put into comparison. 
 
BOEDER BALLADS. 
 
 389 
 
 [Originai.lt printed in the notes to " Mar- 
 mion." — "It was taken down," says Sir Walter, 
 " from the recitation of a woman eighty years of j 
 age, mother of one of the miners in Alston-Moor, i 
 by the agent of the lead mines there, who com- | 
 municated it to my friend and correspondent, R. 
 Surtees, Esq. of Mainsforth. She had not, she 
 said, heard it for many years ; but, when she was 
 a girl, it used to be sung at merry-makings, "till 
 the roof rung again." To preserve this curious, 
 though rude rhyme, it is here inserted. The 
 ludicrous turn given to the slaughter, marks that 
 wild and disorderly state of society, in which a 
 murder was not merely a casual circumstance, 
 but, in some cases, an exceedingly good jest. 
 The structure of the ballad resembles the " Fray 
 of Suport," having the same irregular stanza and 
 wild chorus."] 
 
 Hoot awa', lads, hoot awa 1 , [and a', 
 
 Ha' ye heard how the Ridleys, and Thirlwalls, 
 Ha' set upon Albany * Featherstonhaugh, 
 And taken his life at the Deadmanshaugh : 
 
 There was Willimoteswick, 
 
 And Hardriding Dick, 
 And Hughle of Hawdon, and Will of the Wa\ 
 
 I cannot tell a', I cannot tell a', 
 And mony a mair that the de'il may knaw. 
 
 The auld man went down, but Nicol, his son, 
 Ran away afore the fight was begun ; 
 
 And he run, and he run, 
 
 And afore they were done, 
 There was many a Featherston gat sic a stun, 
 As never was seen since the world begun. 
 
 I canna tell a', I canna tell a' ; 
 Some gat a skelp, and some gat a claw ; 
 But they gar'd the Featherstons haud their 
 Nicol, and Alick, and a'. Daw, — 
 
 Some gat a hurt, and some gat nane ; 
 Some had harness, and some gat sta'en. 
 
 Ane gat a twist o' the craig ; 
 Ane gat a bunch o' the wame; 
 Symy Haw gat lamed of a leg, 
 And syne ran wallowing hame.f 
 
 Hoot, hoot, the auld man's slain outright ! 
 Lay him now wi' his face down : — he's a s 
 
 Janet, thou donot, [ful sight. 
 
 I'll lay my best bonnet, 
 Thou gets a new gude-man afore it be night. 
 
 Hoo away, lads, hoo away, 
 
 Wi's a' be hangid if we stay. [the bigging . 
 
 Tak' up the dead man, and lay him anent 
 Here's the Bailey o' Haltwhistle, 
 Wi' his great bull's pizzle, [piggin. 
 
 That supp'd up the broo', and syne— in the 
 
 [First printed in the Minstrelsy of the 
 Scottish Border.—" This beautiful ballad," says 
 Scott, " is published from a copy in Glenriddell's 
 MSS., with some slight variations from tradi- 
 tion. It alludes to one of the most remarkable 
 feuds upon the west-marches. In 1585, John, 
 lord Maxwell, or as he styled himself, earl of 
 Morton, having quarrelled with the earl of 
 Arran, reigning favourite of James VI., and fal- 
 len, of course, under the displeasure of the court, 
 was denounced a rebel. A commission was also 
 given to the laird of Johnstone, then warden of 
 the west-marches, to pursue and apprehend the 
 ancient rival and enemy of his house. Two 
 bands of mercenaries, commanded by captains 
 Cranstoun and Lammie, who were sent from 
 Edinburgh to support Johnstone, were attacked 
 and cut to pieces at Crawford-muir, by Robert 
 Maxwell, natural brother to the chieftain ;* who, 
 following up his advantage, burned Johnstone's 
 castle of Lochwood, observing with savage glee, 
 that he would give lady Johnstone light enough 
 by which to "set her hood." In a subsequent 
 conflict, Johnstone himself was defeated, and 
 made prisoner, and is said to have died of grief 
 at the disgrace which he sustained. — See Spot- 
 tiswoode and Johnstone's Histories, and Moyse's 
 Memoirs, ad annum 1585. 
 
 * Pronounced Arvbony. 
 t Wallowing — Bellowing. 
 
 » "It is devoutly to be wished, that this Laminie 
 (who was killed iu the skirmish) may have been the 
 same miscreant, who, in the days of queen Mary'3 
 distresses, 'hes ensigne being of quhyt tatntae, had 
 painted on it ye cruell murtlier of king Henry, and 
 layed down before her majesne, at quhat time she pre- 
 sented herself as prisoner to ye lordis.'— Birrel's Diary, 
 June 15, 1567. It would be some satisfaction to know, 
 that the grey hairs of this worthy persoaage did not go 
 down to the grave in peace." 
 
390 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS 
 
 " By one of the revolutions common in those ^fe 
 days, Maxwell was soon after restored to the 
 king's favour, in his turn, and obtained the 
 wardenry of the west-marches. A bond of alli- 
 ance was subscribed by him, and by Sir James 
 Johnstone, and for some time the two clans 
 lived in harmony. In the year 1593, however, 
 the hereditary feud was revived, on the follow- 
 ing occasion : A band of marauders, of the clan 
 Johnstone, drove a prey of cattle from the lands 
 belonging to the lairds of Criehton, Sanquhar, 
 and Drumlanrig; and defeated, with slaughter, 
 the pursuers, who attempted to rescue their pro- j 
 perty. The injured parties, being apprehensive ■ 
 that Maxwell would not cordially embrace their ] 
 cause, on account of his late reconciliation with ] 
 the Johnstones, endeavoured to overcome his J 
 reluctance, by offering to enter into bonds of 
 roanrent, and so to become his followers and 
 liegemen ; he, on the other hand, granting to 
 them a bond of maintenance, or protection, by 
 which he bound himself, in usual form, to main- 
 tain their quarrel against all mortals, saving his 
 loyalty. Thus, the most powerful and respecta- 
 ble families in Dumfries-shire became, for a time, 
 the vassals of lord Maxwell. This secret alliance 
 was discovered to Sir James Johnstone by the 
 laird of Cummertrees, one of his own clan, 
 though a retainer to Maxwell. Cummertrees 
 even contrived to possess himself of the bonds of 
 manrent, which he delivered to his chief. The 
 petty warfare betwixt the rival barons was in- 
 stantly renewed. Buccleuch, a near relation of 
 Johnstone, came to his assistance with his clan, 
 ' the most renowned freebooters,' says a histo- 
 rian, 'the fiercest and bravest warriors among 
 the border tribes.' "With Buccleuch also came 
 the Elliots, Armstrongs, and Graemes. Thus 
 reinforced, Johnstone surprised and cut to pieces 
 a party of the Maxwells, stationed at Lochma- 
 ben. On the other hand, lord Maxwell, armed 
 with the royal authority, and numbering among 
 his followers all the barons of iSithesdale, dis- 
 played his banner as the king's lieutenant, and 
 invaded Annandale at the head of 2000 men. In 
 those days, however, the royal auspices seem to 
 have carried as little good fortune as effective 
 strength with them. A desperate conflict, still 
 renowned in tradition, took place at the Dryffe 
 Sands, not far from Lockerby, in which John- 
 stone, although inferior in numbers, partly by 
 his own conduct, partly by the valour of his 
 allies, gained a decisive victory. Lord Maxwell, 
 a tall man, and heavily armed, was struck from 
 
 his horse in the flight, and cruelly slain, after 
 the hand, which he had stretched out for quar- 
 ter, had been severed from his body. Many of 
 his followers were slain in the battle, and many 
 cruelly wounded, especially by slashes in the face, 
 which wound was thence termed a ' Lockerby 
 lick.' The barons of Lag, Closeburn, and Drum- 
 lanrig, escaped by the fleetness of their horses ; a 
 circumstance alluded to in the following ballad. 
 This fatal battle was followed by a long feud, at- 
 tended with all the circumstances of horror, pro- 
 per to a barbarous age. 
 
 " John, lord Maxwell, with whose Goodnight 
 the reader is here presented, was son to him who 
 fell at the battle of Dryffe Sands, and is said to 
 have early avowed the deepest revenge for his 
 father's death. Such, indeed, was the fiery and 
 untameable spirit of the man, that neither the 
 threats nor entreaties of the king himself could 
 make him lay aside his vindictive purpose; al- 
 though Johnstone, the object of his resentment, 
 had not only reconciled himself to the court, 
 but even obtained the wardenry of the middle- 
 marches, in room of Sir John Carmichael, mur- 
 dered by the Armstrongs. Lord Maxwell was 
 therefore prohibited to approach the border 
 counties; and having, in contempt of that 
 mandate, excited new disturbances, he was con- 
 fined in the castle of Edinburgh. From this 
 fortress, however, he contrived to make his 
 escape; and, having repaired to Dumfries- 
 shire, he sought an amicable interview with 
 Johnstone, under pretence of a wish to accommo- 
 date their differences. Sir Robert Maxwell, of 
 Orchardstane (mentioned in the ballad, ver. 1.,) 
 who was married to a sister of Sir James John- 
 stone, persuaded his brother-in-law to accede to 
 Maxwell's proposal. The following relation of 
 what followed is taken from an article in Shaw- 
 field's MS.— 'The simple treuth and cause of the 
 treasonable murther of umquhile Sir James 
 Johnstone of Dunskellie, knight, was as efter 
 followes. To wit, John lord Maxwell having 
 dealt and useit his best means with some noble- 
 men and barrones within the cuntrey, and like- 
 wayes with sundrie of the name of Maxwell, 
 being remised of them all to be partakers of so 
 foull ane deed ; till at last he unhappily persuad- 
 ed one Charles Maxwell, one of the brether of 
 Kirkhouse, to be with him, and having made 
 him assuired to be pairtner in that treasonable 
 plott; therefore, taking advantage of the weak- 
 ness and unabilitie of umquhill Sir Robert Max- 
 ! well of Orchyardtoun, knight, presuming that 
 
BORDER BALLADS. 
 
 391 
 
 he had power of the said Sir James, being bre- 
 ther-in-law to uthers, to bring him toanye pairt 
 he pleased ; Maxwell pretending he had speciall 
 business to doe with Sir James, hearing he was 
 going from the court of England, so gave out by 
 reasoun he was the king's rebell for the time, for 
 breaking waird out of the castle of Edinburgh, 
 that he had no other houpes to obtaine the king's 
 favour but be his meanes. So upon this pretence, 
 the said .Sir James was moved to meet with him 
 at Auchnamhill, near by Arthorstane, without 
 the house of Bent, upon the 6th of Aprile 1608, 
 with one man onlie with him as was with the 
 uther, therselves two onlie and the forsaid Sir 
 Robert Maxwell with them, and their servants 
 being a little off. The forsaid Charles falls out 
 with opprobrious and malicious speeches to Sir 
 James his servant, William Johnstoune of Gun- 
 menlie, and before he was aware shott him with 
 ane pistoll. Sir James hearing the shott and his 
 man's words, turning about to see what was 
 past, immediatlie Maxwell shott him behind his 
 back with ane pistoll chairgit with two poysonit 
 bullets, at which shott the said Sir James fell 
 from his horse. Maxwell not being content 
 therewith, raid about him ane lang tyme, and 
 persued him farder, vowing to use him more 
 cruelly and treacherouslie than he had done, for 
 which it is known sufficiently what followed. 1 
 ' A fact,' saith Spottiswoode, ' detested by all 
 honest men, and the gentleman's misfortune 
 severely lamented, for he was a man full of wis- 
 dom and courage.' 
 
 '* Lord Maxwell, the murderer, made his escape 
 to France ; but, having ventured to return to 
 Scotland, he was apprehended lurking in the 
 wilds of Caithness, and brought to trial at Edin- 
 burgh. The royal authority was now much 
 strengthened by the union of the crowns, and 
 James employed it in staunching the feuds of the 
 nobility, with a firmness which was no attribute 
 of his general character. B ut in the best actions 
 of that monarch, there seems to have been an 
 unfortunate tincture of that meanness, so visible 
 on the present occasion. Lord Maxwell was in- 
 dicted for the murder of Johnstone; but this 
 was combined with a charge of jire-raising , 
 which, according to the ancient Scottish law, if 
 perpetrated by a landed man, constituted a spe- 
 cies of treason, and inferred forfeiture. Thus the 
 noble purpose of public justice was sullied by be- 
 ing united with that of enriching some needy 
 favourite. John, lord Maxwell, was condemned, 
 and beheaded, 21st May, 1613. Sir Gideon Mur- 
 
 f-ray, treasurer-depute, had a great share of his 
 forfeiture ; hut the attainder was afterwards re- 
 versed, and the honours and the estate were 
 conferred upon the brother of the deceased.— 
 Laing's History of Scotland, vol. I. p. 62. John- 
 stoni Historia, p. 493. 
 
 " The lady, mentioned in the ballad, was sis- 
 ter to the marquis of Hamilton, and, according 
 to Johnstone the historian, had little reason to 
 regret being separated from her husband, whose 
 harsh treatment finally occasioned her death. 
 But Johnstone appears not to be altogether un- 
 tinctured with the prejudices of his clan, and is 
 probably, in this instance, guilty of exaggeration ; 
 as the active share, taken by the marquis of 
 Hamilton in favour of Maxwell, is a circumstance 
 inconsistent with such a report. 
 
 " Thus was finally ended, by a salutary exam- 
 ple of severity, the c foul debate' betwixt the 
 Maxwells and Johnstones, in the course of which 
 each family lost two chieftains : one dying of a 
 broken heart, one in the field of battle, one by 
 assassination, and one by the sword of the exe- 
 cutioner. 
 j " It seems reasonable to believe, that the fol- 
 ■ lowing ballad must have been written before the 
 I death of lord Maxwell, in 1613 ; otherwise there 
 j would have been some allusion to that event. It 
 must therefore have been composed betwixt 
 1603 and that period."] 
 
 " Adieu, madame, my mother dear, 
 
 But and my sisters three ! 
 Adieu, fair Robert of Orchardstane ! 
 
 My heart is wae for thee. 
 Adieu, the lily and the rose, 
 
 The primrose fair to see : 
 Adieu, my ladye, and only joy ! 
 
 For I may not stay with thee. 
 
 "Though I ha'e slain the Lord Johnstone, 
 
 "What care I for their feid ? 
 My noble mind their wrath disdains : 
 
 He was my father's deid. 
 Both night and day I laboured oft 
 
 Of him avenged to be ; 
 But now I've get what lang I sought, 
 
 And I may not stay with thee. 
 
 " Adieu ! Drumlanrig, false wert aye, 
 
 And Closeburn in a band ! 
 The laird of Lag, frae my father that fled, 
 
 "When the Johnstone struck aft his hand. 
 
392 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 They were three brethren in a band — 
 
 Joy may they never see ! 
 Their treacherous art, and cowardly heart, 
 
 Has twin'd my love and me. 
 
 " Adieu ! Dumfries, my proper place, 
 
 But and Carlaverock fair ! 
 Adieu ! my castle of the Thrieve, 
 
 Wi' a' my buildings there: 
 " Adieu ! Lochmaben's gates sae fair, 
 
 The Langholm -holm, where birks there be; 
 Adieu! my ladye, and only joy, 
 
 For, trust me, I may not stay wi' thee. 
 
 " Adieu ! fair Eskdale up and down, 
 
 Where my puir friends do dwell ; 
 The bangister will ding them down, 
 
 And will them sair compell. 
 But I'll avenge their feid myseP, 
 
 When I come o'er the sea ; 
 Adieu ! my ladye, and only joy, 
 
 For I may not stay wi' thee." 
 
 " Lord of the land !" — that ladye said, 
 
 " wad ye go wi' me, 
 Unto my brother's stately tower, 
 
 Where safest ye may be ! 
 There Hamiltons and Douglas baith, 
 
 Shall rise to succour thee." 
 " Thanks for thy kindness, fair my dame, 
 
 But I may not stay wi' thee." 
 
 Then he tuik aff a gay gold ring, 
 
 Thereat hang signets three ; 
 " Hae, tak' thee that, mine ain dear thing, 
 
 And still ha'e mind o' me : 
 But, if thou take another lord, 
 
 Ere I come ower the sea — 
 His life is but a three, days' lease, 
 
 Though I may not stay wi' thee." 
 
 The wind was fair, the ship was clear, 
 
 The good lord went away ; 
 And most part of his friends were there, 
 
 To give him a fair convey. 
 They drank the wine, they did na spair, 
 
 Even in that gude lord's sight — 
 Sae now he's o'er the floods sae gray, 
 
 And Lord Maxwell has ta'en his Good- 
 night. 
 
 ®]|j« Eal$ off WamKjjllKaj). 
 
 [" The reader will find, prefixed to the fore- 
 going ballad, an account of the noted feud be- 
 twixt the families of Maxwell and Johnstone. 
 The following song celebrates the skirmish, in 
 1593, betwixt the Johnstones and Crichtons, 
 which led to the revival of the ancient quarrel 
 betwixt Johnstone and Maxwell, and finally to 
 the battle of Dryffe Sands, in which the latter 
 lost his life. Wamphray is the name of a parish 
 in Annandale. Lethenhall was the abode of 
 Johnstone of Wamphray, and continued to be 
 so till of late years. William Johnstone of 
 Wamphray, called the Galliard, was a noted 
 freebooter. A place, near the head of Tiviot- 
 dale, retains the name of the Galliard's Faulds, 
 (folds,) being a valley where he used to secrete and 
 divide his spoil, with his Liddesdale and Eskdale 
 associates. His rwm de guerre seems to have 
 been derived from the dance called the Galliard. 
 The word is still used in Scotland, to express an 
 active, gay, dissipated character.* Willie of the 
 Kirkhill, nephew to the Galliard, and his aven- 
 ger, was also a noted border robber. Previous 
 to the battle of Dryffe Sands, so often mention- 
 ed, tradition reports, that Maxwell had offered 
 a ten-pound-land to any of his party, who should 
 bring him the head or hand of the laird of John- 
 stone. This being reported to his antagonist, he 
 answered, he had not a ten-pound-land to offer, 
 but would give a five-merk-land to the man who 
 should that day cut off the head or hand of lord 
 Maxwell. Willie of Kirkhill, mounted upon a 
 young grey horse, rushed upon the enemy, and 
 earned the reward, by striking down the unfor- 
 tunate chieftian, and cutting off his right hand. 
 "Leverhay, Stefenbiggin, Girth-head, &c.,are 
 all situated in the parish of Wamphray. The 
 Biddes-burn, where the skirmish took place be- 
 twixt the Johnstones and their pursuers, is a 
 ! rivulet which takes its course among the moun- 
 j tains on the confines of Nithsdale and Annan- 
 dale. The Wellpath is a pass by which the 
 Johnstones were retreating to their fastnesses in 
 
 * Cleveland applies the phrase in a very different 
 manner, in treating of the assembly of Divines at 
 "Westminster, 1644: 
 
 And Selden is a GalHavd by himself, 
 And wel might be; there's more divines in him, 
 Than in all this their Jewish Sanhedrim. 
 Skelton, in his railing 
 \fj- terms him Sir Skyr Galye 
 
BOEDER BALLADS. 
 
 393 
 
 Annandale. Kieklaw-holm is a piace upon the 
 Evan water, which falls into the Annan, below 
 Moffat. Wamphray-gate was in those days an 
 ale-house. With these local explanations, it is 
 hoped the following ballad will be easily under- 
 stood. 
 
 "From a pedigree in the appeal case of Sir 
 James Johnstone of Westeraw, claiming the 
 honours and titles of Annandale, it appears 
 that the Johnstones of Wamphray were descend- 
 ed from James, sixth son of the sixth baron of 
 Johnstone. The male became extinct in 1657." — 
 Scott's Minstrelsy.] 
 
 'Tvvixt Girth -head and the Langwood end, 
 Lived the Galliard, and the Galliard's men ; 
 But and the lads of Leverhay, 
 That drove the Crichton's gear away. 
 
 It is the lads of Lethenha', 
 The greatest rogues amang them a' : 
 But and the lads of Stefenbiggin, 
 They broke the house in at the rigging. 
 
 The lads of Fingland, and Helbeck-hill, 
 They were never for good, but aye for ill ; 
 'Twixt the Staywood bush and Langside-hill, 
 They stealed the brucked cow and the branded 
 bull. 
 
 It is the lads of the Girth-head, 
 
 The deil's in them for pride and greed ; 
 
 For the Galliard, and the gay Galliard's men, 
 
 They ne'er saw a horse but they made it their ain. 
 
 The Galliard to Nithsdale is gane, 
 
 To steal Sim Crichton's winsome dun; 
 
 The Galliard is unto the stable gane, 
 
 But instead of the dun, the blind he has ta'en. 
 
 " Now Simmy, Simmy of the Side, 
 Come out and see a Johnstone ride ! 
 Here's the bonniest horse in a' Nithside, 
 And a gentle Johnstone aboon his hide." 
 
 Simmy Crichton's mounted then, 
 
 And Crichton has raised mony a ane; 
 
 The Galliard trowed his horse had been wight, 
 
 But the Crichtons beat him out o' sight. 
 
 As soon as the Galliard the Crichton saw, 
 Behind the saugh-bush he did draw; 
 And there the Crichtons the Galliard hae ta'en, 
 And nane wi' him but Willie alane. 
 
 " Simmy, Simmy, now let me gang, 
 And I'll ne'er mair do a Crichton wrang ! 
 O Simmy, Simmy, now let me be, 
 And a peck o' gowd I'll give to thee ! 
 
 " O Simmy, Simmy, now let me gang, 
 And my wife shall heap it with her hand." 
 But the Crichtons wad na let the Galliard be, 
 But they hanged him hie upon a tree. 
 
 I think then Willie he was right wae, 
 When he saw his uncle guided sae ; 
 " But if ever I live Wamphray to see, 
 My uncle's death avenged shall be !" 
 
 Back to Wamphray he is gane, 
 And riders has raised mony a ane ; 
 Saying—" My lads, if ye'll be true, 
 Te shall a' be clad in the noble blue." 
 
 Back to Nithsdale they have gane, 
 And awa' the Crichtons' novvt ha'e ta'en ; 
 But when they cam' to the Wellpath-head, 
 The Crichtons bade them 'light and lead. 
 
 And when they cam 1 to the Biddcs burn, 
 The Crichtons bade them stand and turn; 
 And when they cam' to the Biddes strand, 
 The Crichtons they were hard at hand. 
 
 But when they cam' to the Biddes law, 
 The Johnstons bade them stand and draw ; 
 " We've done nae ill, we'll thole nae wrang, 
 But back to Wamphray we will gang." 
 
 And out spoke Willie of the Kirkhill, 
 " Of fighting, lads, ye'se ha'e your fill." 
 And from his horse Willie he lap, 
 And a burnished brand in his hand he gat. 
 
 Out through the Crichtons Willie he ran, 
 And dang them down baith horse and man ; 
 
 but the Johnstones were wondrous rude, 
 When the Biddes burn ran three days blood. 
 
 " Now, sirs, we have done a noble deed ; 
 We have revenged the Galliard's bleid: 
 For every finger of the Galliard's hand, 
 
 1 vow this day I've killed a man." 
 
 As they cam' in at Evan-head, 
 At Rick-law holm they spread abread; 
 " Drive on, my lads ! it will be late ; 
 \y We'll ha'e a pint at Wamphray gate. 
 
394 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 " For where'er I gang or e er I ride, 
 The lads of Wamphry are on my side 
 And of a' the lads that I do ken, 
 A Wamphray lad 's the king of men.' 
 
 28attl)itarai , i& Huge, 
 
 [THe following beautiful fragment was taken 
 down by Mr Surtees, from the recitation of Anne 
 Douglas, an old woman, who weeded in his gar- 
 den. It is imperfect, and the words within 
 brackets were inserted by my correspondent, to 
 supply such stanzas as the chauntress's memory 
 left defective. The hero of the ditty, if the reci- 
 ter be correct, was shot to death by nine bro- 
 thers, whose sister he had seduced, but was 
 afterwards buried at her request, near their 
 usual place of meeting; which may account for 
 hi3 being laid not in holy ground, but beside the 
 Durn. The name of Barthram, or Bertram, 
 would argue a Northumbrian origin, and there 
 is, or was, a Headless Cross, among many so 
 named, near Elsdon in Northumberland. But 
 the mention of the Nine-Stane Burn, and Nine- 
 Stane Rig, seems to refer to those places in the 
 vicinity of Hermitage Castle, which is counte- 
 nanced by the mentioning our Lady's Chapel. 
 Perhaps the hero may have been an English- 
 man, and the lady a native of Scotland, which 
 renders the catastrophe even more probable. 
 The style of the ballad is rather Scottish than 
 Northumbrian. They certainly did bury in for- 
 mer days near the Nine-Stane Burn ; for the edi- 
 tor remembers finding a small monumental cross, 
 with initials, lying among the heather. It was so 
 small, that, with the assistance of another gen- 
 tleman, he easily placed it upright. — Minstrelsy 
 of the Scottish Border.] 
 
 They shot him dead at the Nine-Stane Rig, 
 
 Beside the Headless Cross, 
 And they left him lying in his blood. 
 
 Upon the moor and moss. 
 
 They made a bier of the broken bough, 
 
 The sauch and the aspin gray, 
 And they bore him to the Lady Chapel, 
 
 And waked him there all day. 
 
 A lady came to that lonely bower, 
 
 And threw her robes aside, 
 She tore her ling [long] yellow hair, 
 
 And knelt at Barthram's side. 
 
 She bath'd him in the Lady-Well 
 
 His wounds so deep and sair, 
 And she plaited a garland for his breast. 
 
 And a garland for his hair. 
 
 They rowed him in a lily-sheet, 
 
 And bare him to his earth, 
 [And the Gray Friars sung the dead man's 
 mass, 
 
 As they pass'd the Chapel Garth.] 
 
 They buried him at [the mirk] midnight 
 [When the dew fell cold and still, 
 
 When the aspin gray forgot to play, 
 And the mist clung to the hill.] 
 
 They dug his grave but a bare foot deep, 
 By the edge of the Nine-stane Burn, 
 
 And the covered him [o'er with the heather- 
 flower] 
 The moss and the (Lady) fern. 
 
 A Gray Friar staid upon the grave, 
 
 And sang till the morning tide, 
 And a Friar shall sing for Bartram's soul, 
 
 While the Headless Cross shall bide.* 
 
 ©|« Jrtag of Hupirt. 
 
 [0* all the border ditties," says Sir Walter 
 Scott, " which have fallen into my hands, this is 
 by far the most uncouth and savage. It is 
 usually chaunted in a sort of wild recitative, 
 except the burden, which swells into a long and 
 varied howl, not unlike to a view hollo'. The 
 words, and the very great irregularity of the 
 
 * Mr Surtees observes, on this passage, that, 
 in the return made by the commissioners, on the 
 dissolution of Newminster Abbey, there is an 
 item of a Chauntry, for one priest to sing daily 
 ad erucem lapideam. Probably many of these 
 crosses had the like expiatory solemnities for 
 persons slain there. — Scott. 
 

 
 
 BORDER BALLADS. 395 
 
 
 
 stanza {if it deserves the name), sufficiently % But Peenye, my gude son, is out at the Hag 
 
 
 
 point out its intention and origin. An English 
 
 but-head, 
 
 
 
 woman, residing in Suport, near the foot of the 
 
 His e'en glittering for anger like a fiery 
 
 
 
 Kershope, having been plundered in the night 
 
 ' gleed; 
 
 
 
 by a band of Scottish moss-troopers, is supposed 
 
 Crying — " Mak' sure the nooks 
 
 
 
 to convoke her servants and friends for the pur- 
 
 Of Maky's-muir crooks ; 
 
 
 
 suit, or Hot Trod • upbraiding them, at the same 
 
 For the wily Scot takes by nooks, hooks, and 
 
 
 
 time, in homely phrase, for their negligence and 
 
 crooks. 
 
 
 
 security. The Hot Trod was followed by the 
 
 Gin we meet a' together in a head the morn, 
 
 
 
 persons who had lost goods, with blood-hounds 
 
 "We'll be merry men." 
 
 
 
 and horns, to raise the country to help. They 
 
 Fy lads ! shout a' a' a' a' a', 
 
 
 
 also used to carry a burning wisp of straw at a 
 
 My gear's a' gane. 
 
 
 
 spear head, and to raise a cry, similar to the 
 
 
 
 
 Indian war-whoop. It appears, from articles 
 
 There's doughty Cuddy in the Heugh-head, 
 
 
 
 made by the wardens of the English marches, 
 
 Thou was aye gude at a need : 
 
 
 
 September 12th, in 6th of Edward VI. that all, 
 
 With thy brock-skin bag at thy belt, 
 
 
 
 on this cry being raised, were obliged to follow 
 
 Aye ready to mak' a puir man help. 
 
 
 
 the fray, or chace, under pain of death. With these 
 
 Thou maun awa' out to the cauf-craigs, 
 
 
 
 explanations, the general purport of the ballad 
 
 (Where anes ye lost your ain tvva naigs) 
 
 
 
 may be easily discovered, though particular pas- 
 
 And there toom thy brock -skin bag.* 
 
 
 
 sages have become inexplicable, probably through 
 
 Fy lads ! shout a' a' a' a' a', 
 
 
 
 corruptions introduced by reciters. The present 
 
 My gear's a ta'en. 
 
 
 
 copy is corrected from four copies, which differed 
 
 
 
 
 widely from each other."] 
 
 Doughty Dan o* the Houlet Hirst, 
 Thou was aye gude at a birst : 
 
 
 
 Sleep'ry Sim of the Lamb-hill, 
 
 Gude wi' a bow, and better wi' a speir, 
 
 
 
 And snoring Jock of Suport-mill, 
 
 The bauldest march-man that e'er followed 
 
 
 
 Ye are baith right het and fou' ;— 
 
 gear; 
 
 
 
 But my wae wakens na you. 
 
 Come thou here. 
 
 
 
 Last night I saw a sorry sight — 
 
 Fy lads ! shout a' a' a' a' a', 
 
 
 
 Nought left me, 0' four-and-twenty gude 
 
 My gear's a' gane. 
 
 
 
 ousen and kye, 
 
 
 
 
 My weel-ridden gelding, and a white quey, 
 
 Rise, ye carle coopers, frae maKlng 0' kirns 
 
 
 
 But a toom byre and a wide, 
 
 and tubs, 
 
 
 
 And the twelve nogs* on ilka side. 
 
 In the Nicol forest woods.f 
 
 
 
 Fy lads ! shout a' a' a' a' a', 
 
 Your craft has na left the value of an oak 
 
 
 
 My gear's a' gane. 
 
 rod, 
 But if you had had ony fear o' God, 
 
 
 
 Weel may ye ken, 
 
 Last night ye had na slept sae sound, 
 
 
 
 Last night 1 was right scarce 0' men : 
 
 And let my gear be a' ta'en. 
 
 
 
 But Toppet Hob 0' the Mains had guesten'd 
 
 Fy lads ! shout a' a' a' a' a', 
 
 
 
 in my house by chance ; 
 
 My gear's a' ta'en. 
 
 
 
 I set him to wear the fore-door wi' the speir, 
 
 
 
 
 while I kept the back door wi' the lance ; 
 
 Ah ! lads, we'll fang them a' in a net! 
 
 
 
 But they ha'e run him through the thick 0' 
 
 For I ha'e a' the fords 0' Liddel set ;£ 
 
 
 
 the thie, and broke his knee-pan, 
 And the merghf 0' his shin bane has run 
 
 
 
 
 
 down on his spur leather whang : 
 
 * The badger-skin pouch was used for carrying 
 
 
 
 He's lame while he lives, and where'er he 
 
 ammunition. — Scott. 
 
 
 
 may gang. 
 
 Fy lads ! shout a' a' a' a' a', 
 
 f A wood in Cumberland, in which Suport is 
 
 
 
 My gear's a' gane. 
 
 situated.— Scott. 
 
 
 
 
 $ Watching fords was a ready mode of inter- 
 
 
 
 
 * Nogs — Stakes. f Mergh — Marrow. * 
 
 'f cepting the marauders ; the names of the most 
 
 
 
 
 
396 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 The Dunkin and the Door-loup, 
 The Willie-ford, and the Water-Slack, 
 The Black-rack and the Trout-dub of Lid- 
 del; 
 There stands John Porster wi' five men at 
 
 his back, 
 Wi' buft coat and cap of steil: 
 Boo ! ca' at them e'en, Jock ; 
 That ford's sicker, I vvat weil. 
 
 Fy lads ! shout a" a' a' a' a', 
 
 My gear's a' ta'en. 
 
 Hoo ! hoo ! gare raise the Eeid Souter, and 
 
 Eingan's Wat, 
 Wi' a broad elshin and a wicker ; 
 I wat weil they'll mak' a ford sicker. 
 Sae whether they be Elliots or Armstrangs, 
 Or rough riding Scots, or rude Johnstones, 
 Or whether they be frae the Tarras or Ews- 
 
 dale; 
 They maun turn and fight, or try the deeps 
 
 o' Liddel. 
 
 Fy lads ! shout a' a* a* a' a', 
 My gear's a' ta'en. 
 
 " Ah ! but they will play you another jigg, 
 For they will out at the big rig, 
 And through at Fargy Grame's gap."* 
 But I ha'e anither wile for that: 
 For I ha'e little Will, and Stalwart Wat, 
 And lang Aicky, in the Souter Moor, 
 Wi' his sleuth dog sits in his watch right 
 sure ; f 
 
 ^ Should the dog gi'e a bark, 
 He'll be out in his sark, 
 And die or won. 
 
 Fy lads ! shout a' a' a' a' a', 
 My gear's a' ta'en. 
 
 Ha ! boys— I see a party appearing— wha's 
 
 yon? 
 Methinks it's the captain of Bewcastle, and 
 
 Jephtha's John, £ 
 
 noted fords upon the Liddel are recited in this 
 verse. — Scott. 
 
 * Fergus Grame of Sowport, as one of the 
 chief men of that clan, became security to Lord 
 Scroope for the good behaviour of his friends 
 and dependants, 8th January, 1662. — Introduc- 
 tion to History of Westmoreland and Cumber- 
 land, p. 111.— Scott. 
 
 •f The sentinels, who, by the march laws, 
 were planted upon the border each night, had 
 usually sleuth-dog, or blood-hounds, along with 
 them. — See Nicholson's Border Laws, and Lord 
 Wharton's Eegulations, in the 6th of Edward 
 VI. 
 
 Of the blood-hound we have said something in 
 tne notes on Hobbie Noble ; but we may, in ad- 
 dition, refer to the following poetical description 
 of the qualities and uses of that singular ani- 
 mal: — 
 
 Upon the banks 
 
 Of Tweed, slow winding through the vale, the seat 
 
 Of war and rapine once, ere Britons knew 
 
 The sweets of peace, or Anna's dread commands 
 
 To lasting leagues the haughty rivals awed, 
 
 There dwelt a pilfering race, well train'd and skill'd 
 
 In all the mysteries of theft, the spoil 
 
 Their only substance, feuds and war their sport. 
 
 Not more expert in every fraudful art 
 
 The arch felon was of old, who by the tail 
 
 In vain the sooty cloud and ruddy flames, 
 That issued from his mouth, for soon he paid 
 His forfeit life: a debt now justly due 
 To wronged Alcides, and avenging Heaven! 
 Veil'd in the shades of night, the ford the 
 stream, 
 Then, prowling far and near, whate'er they seize 
 Becomes their prey : nor flocks nor herds are safe, 
 Nor stalls protect the steer, nor strong barr'd doors 
 Secure the favourite horse. Soon as the morn 
 Reveals his wrongs, with ghastly visage wan 
 The plunder'd owner stands, and from his lips 
 A thousand thronging curses burst their way. 
 He calls his stout allies, and in a line 
 His faithful hounds he leads ; then with a voice 
 That utters loud his rage, attentive cheers. 
 Soon the sagacious brute, his curling tail 
 Plourish'd in air, low bending, plies around 
 His busy nose, the steaming vapour snuffs 
 Inquisitive, nor leaves one turf untried: 
 Till, conscious of the recent stains, his heart 
 Beats quick, his snuffling nose, his active tail, 
 Attest his joy; then, with deep-opening mouth 
 That makes the welkin tremble, he proclaims 
 The audacious felon ! foot by foot he marks 
 His winding-way, while all the listening crowd 
 Applaud his reasonings. O'er the watery ford, 
 Dry sandy heaths, and stony barren hills, 
 O'er beaten tracks, with men and beast distain'd, 
 Unerring he pursues : till, at the cot 
 Arrived, and seizing by his guilty throat 
 The caitiff vile, redeems the captive prey : 
 So exquisitely delicate his sense ! 
 
 Somerville's Chase. 
 
 $ According to the late Glenriddell's notes on 
 this ballad, the office of captain of Bewcastle was 
 held by the chief of the Nixons. 
 
 Catlowdie is a small village in Cumberland, 
 near the junction of the Esk and Liddel. — Scott. 
 
Coming down by the foul steps 
 
 loan: 
 They'll make a* sicker, come which way they will. 
 
 Ha lads ! shout a' a' a' a' a', 
 
 My gear's a' ta'en. 
 
 rung; 
 
 Captain Musgrave, and a' his band, * 
 Are coming down by the Siller-strand 
 And the muckle toun-bell o' Carlisle i; 
 My gear was a' weel won, 
 And before it's carried o'er the border, mony 
 a man's gae down. 
 
 Fy lads ! shout a' a' a' a' a', 
 
 My gear's a' gane. 
 
 [First published in the Ministrelsy of the 
 Scottish Border.—" This ballad," says Sir Wal- 
 ter Scott, " has a claim to very high antiquity. 
 It has been preserved by tradition ; and is, per- 
 haps, the most authentic instance of a long and 
 very old poem, exclusively thus preserved. It is 
 only known to a few old people upon the seques- 
 tered banks of the Ettrick; and is published, as 
 written down from the recitation of the mother 
 of Mr James Hogg. She learned the ballad from 
 a blind man, who died at the advanced age of 
 ninety, and is said to have been possessed of 
 much traditionary knowledge. Although the 
 language of this poem is much modernized, yet 
 many words, which the reciters have retained 
 without understanding them, still preserve traces 
 of its antiquity. Such are the words springals 
 (corruptedly pronounced springrvalls,) sorvies, 
 portcullize, and many other appropriate terms of 
 war and chivalry, which could never have been 
 introduced by a modern ballad-maker. The in- 
 cidents are striking and well-managed: and 
 they are in strict conformity with the manners 
 of the age in which they are placed. 
 
 " The date of the ballad cannot be ascertained 
 with any degree of accuracy. Sir Richard Mait- 
 land, the hero of the poem, seems to have been 
 
 * This was probably the famous captain Jack 
 Musgrave, who had charge of the watch along 
 the Cryssop, or Kershope, as appears from the 
 order of the watches appointed by Lord "Whar- 
 ton, when deputy-warden-general, in the 6th 
 Edward VI.— Scott. 
 
 BORDER BALLADS. 39^ 
 
 Catlowdie's ife in possession of his estate about 1250 ; so that, as 
 he survived the commencement of the wars be- 
 twixt England and Scotland, in 1296, hisprowes3 
 against the English, in defence of his castle of 
 Lauder or Thirlstane, must have been exerted 
 during his extreme old age. He seems to have 
 been distinguished for devotion as well as valour ; 
 for, A. D. 1249, Dominus Ricardus de Mautlant 
 gave to the abbey of Dry burgh, " Terras suas de 
 Haubentside, in territorio suo de Thirlestane, 
 pro salute animal sua, et sponsa sua, antecesso- 
 rum suorum et suceessorum suorum, in perpe- 
 tuum." He also gave, to the same convent, 
 " Omnes terras, quas Walterus de Giling tenuit 
 in feodo suo de Thirlestane, et pastura incom- 
 muni de Thirlestane, ad quadraginta oves, sexa- 
 ginta vaccas, et ad viginti equos." — Cartulary of 
 Dryburgh Abbey, in the Advocates' Library. 
 
 " From the following ballad, and from the 
 family traditions referred to in the Maitland 
 MSS., Auld Maitland appears to have had three 
 sons; but we learn, from the latter authority, 
 that only one survived him, who was thence 
 surnamed Burd alane, which signifies either un- 
 equalled, or solitary. A Consolation, addressed to 
 Sir Richard Maitland of Lethington, a poet and 
 scholar who flourished about the middle of the 
 sixteenth century, and who gives name to the 
 Maitland MSS., draws a parallel betwixt his do- 
 mestic misfortunes and those of the first Sir 
 Richard, his great ancestor. 
 
 " Sir "William Mautlant, or Maitland, the 
 eldest and sole surviving son of Sir Richard, 
 ratified and confirmed, to the Monks of Dry- 
 burgh, " Omnes terras quas Dominus Ricardus 
 de Mautlant pater suus fecit dictis monachis in 
 territorio suo de Thirlestane." Sir "William is 
 supposed to have died about 1315. — Crawford's 
 Peerage. 
 
 "Such were the heroes of the ballad. The 
 castle of Thirlestane is situated upon the Leader, 
 near the town of Lauder. Whether the present 
 building, which was erected by Chancellor Mait- 
 land, and improved by the Duke of Lauderdale, 
 occupies the site of the ancient castle, I do not 
 know ; but it still merits the epithet of a dark- 
 some house. I find no notice of the siege in his- 
 tory : but there is nothing improbable in suppos- 
 ing, that the castle, during the stormy period of 
 the Baliol wars, may have held out against the 
 English. The creation of a nephew of Edward 
 I-, for the pleasure of slaying him by the hand of 
 young Maitland, is a poetical license ; and may 
 induce us to place the date of the composition 
 
 fl 
 
398 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 about the reign of David II., or of his successor, 
 when the real exploits of Maitland, and his sons, 
 were in some degree obscured, as well as magni- 
 fied, by the lapse of time. The inveterate hatred 
 against the English, founded upon the usurpa- 
 tion of Edward I., glows in every line of the 
 ballad. 
 
 " Auld Maitland is placed, by Gawin Douglas, 
 bishop of Dunkeld, among the popular heroes of 
 romance, in his allegorical Palice of Honour."] 
 
 There lived a king in southern land, 
 King Edward hight his name; 
 
 Unwordily he wore the crown, 
 Till fifty years were gane. 
 
 He had a sister's son o's ain, 
 
 Was large of blood and bane ; 
 And afterward, when he came up, 
 
 Young Edward hight his name.* 
 
 One day he came before the king, 
 And kneel'd low on his knee — 
 
 " A boon, a boon, my good uncle, 
 I crave to ask of thee ! 
 
 " At our lang wars, in fair Scotland, 
 
 I fain ha'e wished to be ; 
 If fifteen hundred waled wight men 
 
 You'll grant to ride wi' me." 
 
 " Thou sail ha'e thae, thou sail ha'e mae ; 
 
 I say it sickerlie ; 
 And I mysel', an auld gray man, 
 
 Array'd your host sail see-" 
 
 King Edward rade, king Edward ran— 
 
 I wish him dool and pyne ! 
 Till he had fifteen hundred men 
 
 Assembled on the Tyne. 
 
 And thrice as many at Berwicke 
 
 "Were all for battle bound, 
 Who marching forth with false Dunbar, 
 
 A ready welcome found. (• 
 
 * Were it possible to find an authority for call- 
 ing this personage Edmund, we should be a step 
 nearer history; for a brother, though not a 
 nephew of Edward I., so named, died in Gascony 
 during an unsuccessful campaign against the 
 French.— Knighton, Lib. III. cap. 8.— Scott. 
 
 f These two lines axe modern, and inserted 
 
 They lighted on the banks of Tweed, 
 
 And blew their coals sae het, 
 And fired the Merse and Teviotdale, 
 
 All in an evening late. 
 
 As they fared up o'er Lammermore, 
 They burned baith up and down, 
 
 TJntill they came to a darksome house ! 
 Some call it Leader-Town. 
 
 " Wha hauds this house ?" young Edward 
 cry'd, 
 
 " Or wha gi'es't ower to me ?" 
 A gray-hair'd knight set up his head, 
 
 And crackit right crousely : 
 
 " Of Scotland's king I haud my house; 
 
 He pays me meat and fee ; 
 And I will keep my gude auld house, 
 
 While my house will keep me." 
 
 They laid their sowies to the wall,$ 
 
 Wi' mony a heavy peal ; 
 But he threw ower to them agen 
 
 Baith pitch and tar barrel. 
 
 to complete the verse. Dunbar, the fortress of 
 Patrick, Earl of March, was too often opened to 
 the English, by the treachery of that baron, dur- 
 ing the reign of Edward I. — Scott. 
 
 $ In this and the following verse, the attack 
 and defence of a fortress, during the thirteenth 
 and fourteenth centuries, is described accurately 
 and concisely. The sow was a military engine, 
 resembling the Roman testudo. It was framed 
 of wood, covered with hides, and mounted on 
 wheels, so that, being rolled forward to the foot 
 of the besieged wall, it served as a shed, or cover, 
 to defend the miners, or those who wrought the 
 battering-ram, from the stones and arrows of the 
 garrison. In the course of the famous defence 
 made by Black Agnes, Countess of March, of her 
 husband's castle of Dunbar, Montague, Earl of 
 Salisbury, who commanded the besiegers, caused 
 one of these engines to be wheeled up to the wall. 
 The countess, who, with her damsels, kept her 
 station on the battlements, and affected to wipe 
 off with her handkerchief the dust raised by the 
 stones hurled from the English machines, await- 
 ed the approach of this new engine of assault. 
 " Beware, Montague," she exclaimed, while the 
 fragment of a rock was discharged from the wall 
 — " Beware, Montague ! for farrow shall thy 
 
BOEDEB BALLADS. 
 
 399 
 
 "With springalds, stanes, and gads of aim, 
 
 Among them fast he threw ; 
 Till mony of the Englishmen 
 
 About the wall he slew. 
 
 sow !" Their cover being dashed to pieces, the as- 
 sailants, with great loss and difficulty, scrambled 
 back to their trenches. " By the regard of suche 
 a lady," would FroiBsart have said, " and by her 
 comforting, a man ought to be worth two men, 
 at need." The sow was called by the Erench 
 truie.— See Hailes' Annals, Vol. II. p. 89. Wyn- 
 town's Cronykil, Book VIII. William of Malmes- 
 bury, Lib. IV. 
 
 The memory of the sow is preserved in Scot- 
 land by two trifling circumstances. The name 
 given to an oblong hay-stack, is a hay-sow ; and 
 this may give us a good idea of the form of the 
 machine. Children also play at a game with 
 cherry-stones, placing a small heap on the 
 ground, which they term a sotvie, endeavouring 
 to hit it, by throwing single cherry-stones, as 
 the sow was formerly battered from the walls of 
 the besieged fortress. My companions, at the 
 High School of Edinburgh, will remember what 
 was meant by herrying a sotvie. It is strange to 
 find traces of military antiquities in the occupa- 
 tion of the husbandman and the sports of chil- 
 dren. 
 
 The pitch and tar-barrels of Maitland were in- 
 tended to consume the formidable machines of 
 the English. 
 
 The springalds, used in defence of the castle 
 of Lauder, were balista, or large cross-bows 
 wrought by machinery, and capable of throwing 
 stones, beams, and huge darts. They were 
 numbered among the heavy artillery of the age ; 
 " Than the kynge made all his navy to draw 
 along, by the cost of the Downes, every ship well 
 garnished with bombardes, cros-bowes, archers, 
 springalls, and other artillarie." — Eroissart. 
 
 Goads, or sharpened bars of iron, were an ob- 
 vious and formidable missile weapon. Thus, at 
 the assault of Eochemiglion, " They within cast 
 out great barres of iron, and pots with lyme, 
 wherewith they hurt divers Englishmen, such as 
 adventured themselves too far." — Froissart, vol. 
 I. cap. 108. 
 
 From what has been noticed, the attack and 
 defence of Lauder castle will be found strictly 
 conformable to the manners of the age ; a cir- 
 cumstance of great importance, in judging of the 
 antiquity of the ballad. There is no mention of 
 
 Full fifteen days that braid host lay, 
 
 Sieging Auld Maitland keen, 
 Syne they ha'e left him, hail and fair, 
 
 Within his strength of stane. 
 
 Then fifteen barks, all gaily good, 
 
 Met them upon a day, 
 Which they did lade with as much spoil 
 
 As they could bear away. 
 
 " England's our ain by heritage ; 
 
 And what can us withstand, 
 Now we ha'e conquer'd fair Scotland, 
 
 With buckler, bow, and brand ?" 
 
 Then they are on to the land o' France, 
 
 Where auld king Edward lay, 
 Burning baith castle, tower, and town, 
 
 That he met in his way. 
 
 Untill he came unto that town, 
 Which some call Billop-Grace;* 
 
 There were Auld Maitland's sons, a' three, 
 Learning at school, alas ! 
 
 The eldest to the youngest said, 
 
 " see ye what I see ? 
 Gin a' be trew yon standard says, f 
 
 We're fatherlesse a' three. 
 
 " Tor Scotland's conquer'd, up and down ; 
 Landmen we'll never be : 
 
 guns, though these became so common in the 
 latter part of the reign of Edward III., that at 
 the siege of St Maloes, " the English had well 
 a four hondred gonnes, who shot day and night 
 into the fortresse, and agaynst it." — Eroissart, 
 vol. I. cap. 336. Barbour informs us, that guns, 
 or " crakis of wer," as he calls them, and crests 
 for helmets, were first seen by the Scottish, in 
 their skirmishes with Edward the Third's host, 
 in Northumberland, A. D. 1327.— Scott. 
 
 * If this be a Flemish, or Scottish, corruption 
 for Ville de Grace, in Normandy, that town was 
 never besieged by Edward I., whose wars in 
 France were confined to the province of Gas- 
 cony. The rapid change of scene, from Scotland 
 to France, excites a suspicion that some verses 
 may have been lost in this place. — Scott. 
 
 t Edward had quartered the arms of Scotland 
 ; with his own. — Scott. 
 
400 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 Now, will ye go, my brethren two, ^K 
 
 And try some jeopardy ?"* 
 
 Then they ha'e saddled twa black horse, 
 
 Twa black horse, and a grey ; 
 And they are on to king Edward's host, 
 
 Before the dawn of day. 
 
 When they arriv'd before the host, 
 
 They hover'd on the lay— 
 " "Wilt thou lend me our king's standard, 
 
 To bear a little way ?"f 
 
 * The romantic custom of achieving, or at- 
 tempting, some desperate and perilous adventure, 
 without either necessity or cause, was a peculiar, 
 and perhaps the most prominent, feature of 
 chivalry. It was not merely the duty, but the 
 pride and delight, of a true knight, to perform 
 such exploits, as no one but a madman would 
 have undertaken. 1 think it is in the old French 
 romance of Erec and Eneide, that an adventure, 
 the access to which lay through an avenue of 
 stakes, garnished with the bloody heads of the 
 knights who had attempted and failed to achieve 
 it, is called by the inviting title of Lajoie de la Cour. 
 To be first in advancing, or last in retreating; 
 to strike upon the gate ofacertain fortress of the 
 enemy ; to fight blindfold, or with one arm tied 
 up; to carry off a banner, or to defend one; 
 were often the subjects of a particular vow 
 among the sons of chivalry. Until some dis- 
 tinguishing exploit of this nature, a young 
 knight was not said to have won kit spurs; and, 
 upon some occasions, he was obliged to bear, as 
 a mark of thraldom a chain upon his arm, 
 which was removed, with great ceremony, when 
 his merit became conspicuous. These chains are 
 noticed in the romance of J than de Saintre. In 
 the language of German chivalry, they were 
 called Ketten des Gelubdm (fetters of duty). Lord 
 Herbert of Cherbury informs us, that the knights 
 of the Bath were obliged to wear certain strings, 
 of silk and gold, upon their left arm, until they 
 had achieved some noble deed of arms. When 
 Edward III. commenced bis French wars, 
 many of the young bachelors of England bound 
 up one of their eyes with a silk ribband, and 
 swore, before the peacock and the ladies, that 
 they would not see with both eyes until they had 
 accomplished certain deeds of arms in France. — 
 Frois-art, cap. 28. 
 
 t In all ages, and in almost all countries, the 
 military standards have been objects of respect to 
 
 Where was thou bred? where wa3 thou 
 
 born ? 
 Where, or in what country?" 
 
 the soldiery, whose duty it is to range beneath 
 them, and, if necessary, to die in their defence. 
 In the ages of chivalry, these ensigns were dis- 
 tinguished by their shape, and by the various 
 names of banners, pennons, penoncelles, &c, 
 according to the number of men who were to 
 fight under them. They were displayed, on 
 the day of battle, with singular so emnity, 
 and consigned to the charge only of such as were 
 thought willing and able to defend them to the 
 uttermost. When the army of Edward, the 
 Black Prince, was drawn up against that of 
 Henry the Bastard, king of Castile, "Than Sir 
 Johan Chandos brought his baner, rolled up 
 togyder, to the prince, and said, ' Sir, behold, 
 here is my baner. I requyre you display it 
 abrode, and give me leave this daye, to raise it; 
 for, Sir, I thanke God and you, I have land and 
 heritage suffyciente to maynteyne it withal.' 
 Than the prince, and King Lampeter (Don 
 Pedro,) toke the baner betwene their handes, 
 and spred it abrode, the which was of sylver, a 
 sharp pyle gaules, and delyvered it to hyrn, and 
 said, 'Sir Johan, behold here youre baner; God 
 sende you joye and honour thereof!' Than Sir 
 Johan Chandos tare his baner to his owne com- 
 panye, and sayde, ' Sirs, beholde here my baner, 
 andyoures; kepe it as your owne.' And they toke 
 it, and were right joyful therof, and sayd, that 
 by the pleasure of God, and Saint George, they 
 wold kepe and defend it to the best of their 
 powers. And so the baner abode in the handes 
 of a good Englishs squyer, called William Alery, 
 who bare it that day, and acquaytted himself 
 right nobly." — Froissart, vol. I. ch. 237. The 
 loss of a banner was not only great dishonour, 
 but an infinite disadvantage. At the battle of 
 Coeherel, in Normandy, the flower of the com- 
 batants, on each side, were engaged in the 
 attack and defence of the banner of the captall of 
 Buche, the English leader. It was planted amid 
 a bush of thorns, and guarded by sixty men at 
 arms, who defended it gallantly. " There were 
 many rescues, and many a one hurt and cast to 
 the earth, and many feats of armes dene, and 
 many gret strokes given, with good axes of steel, 
 that it was wonder to behold." The battle did 
 not cease untill the captall's standard was taken 
 and torn to pieces. 
 
BOEDER BALLADS. 
 
 401 
 
 " In north of England I wa3 born :" 
 (It needed him to lie.) * 
 
 " A knight me gat, a lady bore, 
 I'm a squire of high renown; 
 
 I well may bear't to any king, 
 That ever yet wore crowne." 
 
 " He ne'er came of an Englishman, 
 
 Had sic an e'e or bree 
 But thou art the likest Auld Maitland, 
 
 That ever I did see. 
 
 " But sic a gloom on ae brow-head, 
 
 Grant I ne'er see agane ! 
 For moiiy of our men he slew, 
 
 And mony put to pain." 
 
 "When Maitland heard his father's name, 
 
 An angry man was he ! 
 Then, lifting up a gilt dagger, 
 
 Hung low down by his knee, 
 
 He stabb'd the knight, the standard bore, 
 
 He stabb'd him cruellie ; 
 Then caught the standard by the neuk, 
 
 And fast away rode he. 
 
 " Now, is't na time., brothers," he cried, 
 
 " Now, is't na time to flee ?" 
 "Ay, by my sooth !" they baith replied, 
 
 " "We'll bear you company." 
 
 The youngest turn'd him in a path, 
 And drew a burnished brand, 
 
 And fifteen of the foremost slew, 
 Till back the lave did stand. 
 
 "We learn, from the following passage in 
 Stowe's Chronicle, that the standard of Edward 
 I. was a golden dragon. " The king entred 
 "Wales with an army, appointing the footmen to 
 occupie the enemies in fight, whiles his horse- 
 men, in a wing, set on the rere battell: himselfe, 
 with a power, kept his place, where he pight his 
 golden dragon, unto whiche, as to a castle, the 
 wounded and weaned might repair." — Scott. 
 
 * Stratagems such as that of Maitland, were 
 frequently practised with success, in consequence 
 of the complete armour worn by the knights of | 
 the middle ages.— Scott. 
 
 H? spurr'd the gTey into the path, 
 Hill baith his sides they bled — 
 
 "Grey! thou maun carry me away, 
 Or my life lies in wad." 
 
 Tie captain lookit ower the wa', 
 
 About the break o' day ; 
 There he beheld the three Scots Lids, 
 
 Pursuing along the way. 
 
 " Pull up portcullize ! down draw-brigg ! 
 
 My nephews are at hand ; 
 And they sail lodge wi' me to-night, 
 
 In spite of all England." 
 
 Whene'er they came within the yatc, 
 They thrust their horse them frae, f 
 
 And took three lang spears in their hands, 
 Saying, ** Here sail come nae mae !" 
 
 And they shot out, and they shot in, 
 
 Till it was fairly day ; 
 When mony of the Englishmen 
 
 About the draw brigg lay. 
 
 Then they ha'e yoked carts and wains, 
 
 To ca' their dead away, 
 And shot auld dykes abune the lave, 
 
 In gutters where they lay. . 
 
 The king, at his pavilion door, 
 
 Was heard aloud to say, 
 " Last night, three o' the lads o' France 
 
 My standard stole away. 
 
 " Wi' a fanse tale, disguised, they came, 
 
 And wi' a fauser trayne ; 
 And to regain my gave standard, 
 
 These men were a' down slayne." 
 
 " It ill befits," the youngest said, 
 
 " A. crowned king to lie ; 
 But, or that I taste meat and drink, 
 
 Reproved sail he be." 
 
 t " The lord of Hangest (pursued by the En- 
 glish) came so to the barryrs (of Vandonne) 
 that were open, as his happe was, and so entred 
 in therat, and than toke his speare, and turned 
 him to defence, right valiantly." — Froissart, vol. 
 I. chap. 307.— Scott. 
 
 2c 
 
402 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 He went before king Edward strait, 
 
 And kneel'd low on his knee ; 
 " I wad ha'e leave, my lord," he said, 
 
 " To speak a word wi' thee." 
 
 The king he turn'd him round about, 
 
 And wi6tna what to say — 
 Quo" he, " Man, thou's ha'e leave to speak, 
 
 Though thou should speak a' day." 
 
 ' Ye said, that three young lads o' France 
 
 Your standard stole away, 
 Wi' a fause tale, and fauser trayne, 
 
 And mony men did slay : 
 
 " But we are nane the lads o' France, 
 
 Nor e'er pretend to be ; 
 "We are three lads o' fair Scotland, 
 
 Auld Mai Hand's sons are we ; 
 
 '* Nor is there men, in a' your host, 
 Daur fight us three to three." 
 
 " Now by my sooth," young Edward said, 
 " Weel fitted ye sail be ! 
 
 " Piercy sail with the eldest fight, 
 And Ethert Lunn with thee : 
 
 William of Lancaster the third, 
 And bring your fourth to me . 
 
 " Remember, Piercy, aft the Scot ' 
 Has cow'rd beneath thy hand : 
 
 For every drap of Maitland blood, 
 I'll gi'e a rig of land." 
 
 He clanked Piercy ower the head, 
 
 A deep wound and a sair, 
 Till the best blood o' his bodie 
 
 Cam' rinning down his hair. 
 
 " Now I've slayne ane ; slay ye the twa ; 
 
 And that's gude companye ; 
 And if the twa suld slay ye baith, 
 
 Ye'se get na help frae me." f 
 
 * The two first lines are modern, to supply an 
 imperfect stanza. — Scott. 
 
 f According to the laws of chivalry, laws which 
 were also for a long time observed in duels, when 
 two or more persons were engaged on each side, 
 he, who first conquered his immediate antago- 
 nist, was at liberty, if he pleased, to come to the 
 assistance of his companions. The play of the 
 
 But Ethert Lunn, a baited bear, 
 
 Had many battles seen ; 
 He set the youngest wonder sair, 
 
 Till the eldest he grew keen— 
 
 " I am nae king, nor nae sic thing 
 
 My word it shanna stand !$ 
 For Ethert sail a buffet bide, 
 
 Come he beneath my brand." 
 
 He clankit Ethert ower the head, 
 
 A deep wound and a sair, 
 Till the best blood of his bodie 
 
 Cam' rinning ower his hair. 
 
 " Now I've slayne twa ; slaye ye the ane ; 
 
 Is na that gude companye ? 
 And though the ane suld slay ye baith, 
 
 Ye'se get na help o' me." 
 
 The twa-some they ha'e slayne the ane ; 
 
 They maul'd him cruellie ; § 
 Then hung them over the draw-brigg, 
 
 That all the host might see. 
 
 Little French Lawyer turns entirely upon this 
 circumstance ; and it may be remarked through- 
 out the poems of Boiardo and Ariosto : particu- 
 larly in the combat of three Christian and three 
 Pagan champions, in th« 42d canto of Orlando 
 Furioso. But doubtless a gallant knight was 
 often unwilling, like young Maitland, to avail 
 himself of this advantage. Something of this 
 kind seems to have happened in the celebrated 
 combat, fought in the presence of James II. at 
 Stirling, 1419, between three French, or Flemish, 
 warriors, and three noble Scottishmen, two of 
 whom were of the house of Douglas. The reader 
 will find a literal translation of Oliver de la 
 Marche's account of this celebrated tourney, in 
 Pinkerton's History, vol. I. p. 428.— Scott. 
 
 $ Maitland's apology for retracting his pro- 
 mise to stand neuter, is as curious as his doing so 
 j is natural. The unfortunate John of France 
 | was wont to say, that, if truth and faith were 
 j banished from all the rest of the universe, they 
 should still reside in the breast and the mouth of 
 kings. — Scott. 
 
 § This is a vulgar sound, but is actually a 
 phrase of romance. Tant frappant et maillent 
 lex deux vassaux Can aur I'autre, que leurt 
 heaumes, et leurs hauberts, sont tout cauez et 
 rompuz.—L.a. fleur des Battailes.— Scott. 
 
BOEDER BALLADS. 
 
 403 
 
 Tbey rade their horse, they ran their horse, 
 
 Then hovered on the lee ; * 
 " We be three lads o' fair Scotland, 
 
 That fain would righting see." 
 
 This boasting when young Edward heard, 
 
 An angry man was he ! 
 " I'll tak' yon lad, I'll bind yon lad, 
 
 And bring bim bound to thee !" 
 
 " Now, God forbid," King Edward said, 
 
 " That ever thou suld try ! 
 Three worthy leaders we ha'e lost, 
 
 And thou the fourth wad he. 
 
 " If thou should'st hang on yon draw-brigg, 
 
 Blythe wad I never be !" 
 But, with the poll-axe in his hand, 
 
 Upon the brigg sprang he. f 
 
 * The sieges, during the middle ages, fre- 
 quently afforded opportunity for single combat, 
 of which the scene was usually the draw-bridge, 
 or barriers, of the town. The former, as the 
 more desperate place of battle, was frequently 
 chosen by knights, who chose to break a lance 
 for honour, and their ladies' love. In 1387, Sir 
 William Douglas, lord of Nithisdale, upon the 
 draw-bridge of the town of Carlisle, consisting of 
 two beams, hardly two feet in breadth, encount- 
 ered and slew, first, a single champion of Eng- 
 land, and afterwards two, who attacked him 
 together. — Forduni Scotichronicon, Lib. XIV. 
 ehap. 51. 
 
 These combats at the barriers, or palisades, 
 which formed the outer fortification of a town, 
 were so frequent, that' the mode of attack and 
 defence was early taught to the future knight, 
 and continued long to be practised in the games 
 of chivalry. The custom, therefore, of defying 
 the inhabitants of a besieged town to this sort of 
 contest, was highly fashionable in the middle 
 ages; and an army could hardly appear before a 
 place, without giving rise to a variety of com- 
 bats at the barriers, which were, in general, con- 
 ducted without any unfair advantage being taken 
 on either part. — Scott. 
 
 f The battle-axe, of which there are many 
 kinds, was a knightly weapon, much used in 
 the middle ages, as well in single combat as in 
 lattle. "And also there was a younge bache- 
 lor, called Bertrande of Glesguyne, who, duryng 
 the seige, fought wyth an Englyshman called Sir 
 
 The first stroke that young Edward ga'e, 
 He struck wi' might and mayn ; 
 
 He clove the Maitlan's helmet stout, 
 And bit right nigh the brayn. 
 
 When Maitland saw his ain blood fa' ; 
 
 An angry man was he !$ 
 He let his weapon frae him fa' ; 
 
 And at his throat did flee. 
 
 And thrice about he did him swing, 
 
 Till on the grund he light, 
 Where he has halden young Edward, 
 
 Though he was great in might. 
 
 Nycholas Dagerne : and that batayle was takene 
 thre courses wyth a speare, thre strokes wyth an 
 axe, and thre wyth a dagger. And eche of these 
 knyghtes bare themselves so valyantly, that they 
 departed fro the felde wythout any damage, and 
 they were well regarded, botheof theyme wythyn, 
 and they wythout." This happened at the siege 
 of Eennes, by the Duke of Lancaster, in 1357. — 
 Froissart, vol. I. cap. 175. With the same wea- 
 pon Godfrey of Harcourt long defended himself, 
 when surprised and defeated by the French. 
 " And Sir Godfraye's men kepte no good array, 
 nor dyd nat as they had promysed ; moost part 
 of theyme fledde ; whan Sir Godfraye sawe that, 
 he sayde tohymselfe, how he had rather there be 
 slayne than be taken by the Frenchmen ; there 
 he toke hys axe in hys handes, and set fast the 
 one legge before the other, to stonde the more 
 surely; for hys one legge was a lytell crooked, 
 but he was strong in the armes. Ther he fought 
 valyantly and long: none durste well abyde hys 
 strokes ; than two Frenchmen mounted ontheyr 
 horses, and ranne both with their speares at 
 ones at hym, and so bare him to the yerth : than 
 other, that were a-fote, came wyth theyr swerdes, 
 and strake hym into the body, under his harneys, 
 so that ther he was slayne." — Ibid. chap. 172. 
 The historian throws Sir Godfrey into a striking 
 attitude of desperation. — Scott. 
 
 $ There is a saying, that a Scottishman fights 
 best after seeing his own blood. Camerarius has 
 contrived to hitch this foolish proverb into a 
 national compliment ; for he quotes it as an in 
 stance of the persevering gallantry of his coun 
 trymen. " Si in pugna proprium effundi sangu - 
 nem vidissent, non statim prostrato animo on. 
 cedebant, sed irato potius in hostes velut furen- 
 tes omnibus viribus incurrebant." — Scott. 
 
404 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 " Now let him up," King Edward cried, 
 
 " And let him come to me ! 
 And for the deed that thou hast done, 
 
 Thou shalt ha'e erldomea three !" 
 
 " It3 ne'er be said in France, nor e'er 
 In Scotland, when I'm hame, 
 
 That Edward once lay under me, 
 And e'er gat up again I" 
 
 He pierced him thro' and thro' the heart; 
 
 He maul'd him cruellie ; 
 Then hung him ower the draw-brigg, 
 
 Beside the other three. 
 
 " Now, take frae me that feather-bed ! 
 
 Make me a bed o' strae ! 
 I wish I hadna lived this day, 
 
 To mak' my heart sae wae. 
 
 " If I were ance at London tower, 
 
 Where I was won t to be, 
 I never mair suld gang frae hame, 
 
 Till borne on a bier-tree." 
 
 * Some reciters repeat it thus: 
 
 "That linglishmau lay under me," 
 which is in the true spirit of Blind Harry, who 
 makes Wallace say, 
 
 •' I like belter to see the soutlieron die, 
 Than gold or laud, that they can gi'e to me." 
 
 In slaying Edward, Maitland acts pitilessiy, 
 but not contrary to the laws of arms, which did 
 not enjoin a knight to show mercy to his anta- 
 gonist, until he yielded him, " rescue or no 
 rescue." Thus, the seigneur de Languerant 
 came before the walls of an English garrison, in 
 Gascony, and defied any of the defenders to run 
 a course with a spear: his challenge being ac- 
 cepted by Bertrand Courant, the governor of 
 the place, they couched their spears, like good 
 knights, and dashed on their horses. Their 
 spears were broke to pieces, and Languerant was 
 overthrown, and lost his helmet amongst the 
 horses' feet. His attendants were coming up ; 
 but Bertrand drew his dagger and said, " Sir, 
 yield ye my prisoner, rescue or no rescue ; els ye 
 are but dead." The dismounted champion spoke 
 not a word; on which, Bertrand, entering into 
 fervent ire, dashed his dagger into his skull. 
 Besides, the battle was not always finished by 
 one warrior obtaining this advantage over the 
 
 world lEforie. 
 
 ["Sir Ralph Evnn, or Ewrie, op Evers, 
 commemorated in the following lines, was one 
 the bravest men of a military race. He was son 
 of the first, and father of the second LordEwne; 
 and was himself created a lord of parliament 
 during his father's lifetime, in the 35th year of 
 Henry VIII. The ballad is apparently a strain 
 ofgratulationupon that event. The poet, or more 
 probably the reciter, has made some confusion 
 in the lineage, by declaring that his hero was 
 "married upon a Willoughbe." His mother, 
 however, was of that family, and he was " kin to 
 the Nevil and to the Percy." He was ennoblod 
 by Henry, on account of the vigour with which 
 he prosecuted the border warfare. But after 
 " harrying the Mers and Tiviotdale, and knock- 
 ing at Edinburgh gate," Lord Ewrie was slain in 
 the battle of Ancram moor, fought between him 
 and the Earl of Angus, in 1546. 
 
 " This song was written down by my obliging 
 friend Richard Surtees, Esq. of Mainsforth, from 
 the recitation of Rose Smith, of Bishop Middle- 
 ham, a woman aged upwards of ninety-one, whose 
 husband's father and two brothers were killed 
 in the affair of 1715."— Scott's Minstrelsy <jf the 
 Scottish Border.'] 
 
 Lord Ewrie was as brave a man, 
 
 As ever stood in his degree ; 
 The king has sent him a broad letter, 
 
 All for his courage and loyalty, f 
 
 Lord Ewrie is of a gentill blode, 
 A knighte's son sooth to say; 
 
 He is kin to the Nevill and to the Percy, 
 And is married upon a Willowbe. 
 
 other. In the battle of Nejara, the famous Sir 
 John Chandos was overthrown, and held down, 
 by a gigantic Spanish cavalier, named Martino 
 Fernandez. " Then Sir John Chandos remem* 
 bred of a knyfe, that he had in his bosome, and 
 drew it out, and struck this Martyne so in the 
 backe, and in the sydes, that he wounded him to 
 dethe, as he laye upon hym." The dagger, which 
 the knights employed in these close and desperate 
 struggles, was called the poniard qf mercy. 
 
 Sntt. 
 f Patent letters of nobility. 
 
BOEDER BALLADJ 
 
 405 
 
 A noble knight him trained upp, 
 
 Sir Rafe Bulmer is the man I mean ; ' 
 
 At Flodden field, as men do say, 
 No better capten there was seen. 
 
 He led the men of Bishopricke, 
 
 When Thomas Ruthal bore the sway ; 
 
 Tho' the Scottish Habsf were stout and true, 
 The English bowmen wan that day. 
 
 And since he has kepte Berwick upon Tweed, 
 The town was never better kept, I wot; 
 
 He maintained leal and order along the border, 
 And still was ready to prick the Scot. 
 
 The country then lay in great peace, 
 
 And grain and grass was sown and won ; 
 
 Then plenty filled the market crosse, 
 "When Lord Ewrie kept Berwick town. 
 
 With our queen's brother he hath been, $ 
 And rode rough shod through Scotland of 
 late; 
 
 They have burned the Mers and Tiviotdale, 
 And knock full loud at Edinburgh gate. 
 
 Now the king hath sent him a broad letter, 
 
 A lord of parliament to be ; 
 It were well if every nobleman 
 
 Stood like Lord Ewrie in his degree. 
 
 * Sir William Bulmer of Brunspeth castle, 
 who is here said to have commanded the troops 
 raised in the Bishopricke, in the battle of Flod- 
 denfield, was descended from an ancient, and, 
 at one period, noble family. The last who was 
 summoned to parliament as a peer of the realm, 
 was Ralph, from 1st till 23d Edward III. Sir 
 William routed the Borderers, who, under the 
 tommand of lord Home, made an excursion into 
 Northumberland, previous to the battle of Flod- 
 den. He is mentioned in the Metrical History 
 of the battle, v. 105, &c. In the present ballad, 
 he is erroneously denominated Sir Ralph Bulmer. 
 Scott. 
 
 f Hubs — contracted for Halbert, or Hobbie, 
 once a common name in Scotland. — Scolt. 
 
 % The earl of Hartford, afterwards duka of 
 Somerset, and brother of queen Jane Seymour, 
 made a furious incursion into Scotland, in 1545. 
 
 [" The hero of this ballad appears to have been 
 an outlaw and deer-stealer — probably one of the 
 broken men residing upon the border. There 
 are several different copies, in one of which the 
 principal personage is called Johnie of Cockielaw. 
 The stanzas of greatest merit have been selected 
 from each copy. It is sometimes said, that this 
 outlaw possessed the old castle of Morton, in 
 Dumfriesshire, now ruinous: — 'Near to this 
 castle there was a park, built by Sir Thomas 
 Randolph, on the face of a very great and high 
 hill ; so artificially, that, by the advantage of the 
 hill, all wild beasts, such as deers, harts, and 
 roes, and hares, did easily leap in, but could not 
 get out again ; and if any other cattle, such as 
 cows, sheep, or goats, did voluntarily leap in, or 
 were forced to do it, it is doubted if their owners 
 were permitted to get them out again.' — Account 
 of Presbytery of Penpont, apud Macfarlane's 
 MSS. Such a park would form a convenient 
 domain to an outlaw's castle, and the mention 
 of Durrisdeer, a neighbouring parish, adds weight 
 to the tradition. I have seen, on a mountain 
 near Callendar, a sort of pinfold, composed of 
 immense rocks, piled upon each other, which, I 
 was told, was anciently constructed for the 
 above-mentioned purpose. The mountain is 
 thence called Uah var, or the Cove of the Giant." 
 Border Minstrelsy.] 
 
 Johnie rose up in a May morning, 
 Called for water to wash his hands — 
 
 " Gar loose to me the gude graie dogs 
 That are bound wi' iron bands." 
 
 When Johnie's mother gat word o' that, 
 Her hands for dule she wrang — 
 
 " Johnie ! for my benison, 
 To the greenwood dinna gang ! 
 
 " Eneugh ye ha'e o' gude wheat bread, 
 And eneugh o' the blude-red wine ; 
 
 And, therefore, for nae venison, Johnie, 
 I pray ye, stir frae hame." 
 
 But Johnie's busk't up his gude b3nd bow 
 
 His arrows, ane by ane ; 
 And he has gane to Durriideer 
 
 To hunt the dun deer down. 
 
406 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 As he came down by Merriemass, 
 
 And in by the benty line, 
 There has he espied a deer lying 
 
 Aneath a bush of ling. * 
 
 Johnie he shot, and the dun deer lap, 
 And he wounded her on the side ; 
 
 But, atween the water and the brae, 
 His hounds they laid her pride. 
 
 And Johnie has bryttledf the deer sae weel, 
 That he's had out her liver and lungs; 
 
 And wi' these he has feasted his bludy hounds, 
 As if they had been erl's sons. 
 
 They eat sae much o' the venison, 
 And drank sae much o' the blude, 
 
 That Johnie and a' his bludy hounds 
 Fell asleep as they had been dead. 
 
 And by there came a silly auld carle, 
 
 An ill death mote he die ! 
 For he's awa' to Hislinton, 
 
 Where the seven foresters did lie. 
 
 " What news, what news, ye gray-headed 
 What news bring ye to me ?" [.carle, 
 
 "I bring nae news," said the gray-headed 
 " Save what these eyes did see. [carle, 
 
 " As I came down by Merriemass, 
 And down amang the scroggs,f 
 
 The bonniest childe that ever I saw 
 Lay sleeping amang his dogs. 
 
 " The shirt that was upon his back 
 
 Was o' the Holland fine ; 
 The doublet which was over that 
 
 Was o' the Lincome twine. 
 
 " The buttons that were on his sleeve 
 
 Were o' the goud sae gude ; 
 The gude graie hounds he lay amang, 
 
 Their mouths were dyed wi' blude." 
 
 Then out and spak' the first forester, 
 
 The heid man ower them a' — 
 " If this be Johnie o' Breadislee, 
 
 Nae nearer will we draw." 
 
 * Ling — heath. 
 
 t BryttUd — to cut up venison. See the ancient 
 ballad of Chevy Chace, v. 8. 
 \ Scroggs — stunted trees. 
 
 ^ But up and spak' the sixth forester, 
 (His sister's son was he) 
 " If this be Johnie o' Breadislee, 
 We soon shall gar him dee 1" 
 
 The first flight of arrows the foresters shot. 
 They wounded him on the knee ; 
 
 And out and spak' the seventh forester, 
 " The next will gar him dee." 
 
 Johnie's set his back against an aik, 
 
 His fute against a stane ; 
 And he has slain the seven foresters, 
 
 He has slain them a' but ane. 
 
 He has broke three ribs in that ane's side. 
 
 But and his collar bane ; 
 He's laid him twa-fald ower his steed, 
 
 Bade him carry the tidings hame. 
 
 " O is there na a bonnie bird, 
 
 Can sing as I can say; 
 Could flee away to my mother's bower, 
 
 And tell to fetch Johnie away ?" § 
 
 The starling flew to his mother's window stane 
 
 It whistled and it sang ; 
 And aye the ower word o' the tune 
 
 Was — " Johnie tarries lang !" 
 
 They made a rod o* the hazel bush, 
 Another o' the slae-thorn tree, 
 
 And mony mony were the men 
 At fetching our Johnie. 
 
 Then out and spak' his auld mother, 
 
 And fast her tears did fa'— 
 " Ye wadna be warned, my son Johnie, 
 
 Frae the hunting to bide awa'. 
 
 " Aft ha'e I brought to Breadislee 
 
 The less gear|| and the mair, 
 But I ne'er brought to Breadislee, 
 
 What grieved my heart sae sair ! 
 
 § Mr Finlay has preserved the following addi- 
 tional stanza, which i3 beautifully illustrative of 
 the languor of approaching death— 
 
 There's no a bird in a' this forest 
 
 Will do as mickle for me, 
 As dip its wing in the wan water, 
 
 And straik it on my e'e bree. 
 
 & U Gear— usually signifies goods, but here spoil. 
 

 
 
 
 BORDER 
 
 BALLADS. 407 
 
 
 " But wae betyde that silly auld carle ! ^ 
 
 
 
 An Ul death shall he dee ! 
 
 
 
 
 Tor the highest tree in Merriemass 
 Shall be his morning's fee." 
 
 &rcfjit ffctrastKattg'g £tit|). 
 
 
 
 2Tow Johnie's gude bend bow is broke, 
 
 [Th1» is a contribution by the Rev. John Mar- 
 
 
 
 And his gude graie dogs are slain ; 
 
 riott, A. M., to the Border Minstrelsy.—" The 
 
 
 
 And his bodie lies dead in Durrisdeer, 
 
 hero of this ballad," says Sir "Walter, "was a 
 
 
 
 And his hunting it is done. 
 
 native of Eskdale, and contributed not a little 
 towards the raising his clan to that pre-emi- 
 
 
 
 
 
 nence which it long maintained among the Border 
 thieves, and which none indeed but the Elliots 
 
 
 
 JOKSIE OF BRAIDISBA^K. 
 
 could dispute. He lived at the Stubholm, imme- 
 diately below the junction of the "Wauchope and 
 
 
 
 [The following fragments are given by Mother- 
 
 the Eske; and there distinguished himself so much 
 
 
 
 well. They appear to belong to an older copy of 
 
 by zeal and assiduity in his professional duties, 
 
 
 
 the preceding ballad.] 
 
 that at length he found it expedient to emigrate, 
 | his neighbours not having learned from Sir John 
 
 
 
 Jobkxb rose up in a Hay morning, 
 
 | Falstaff, ' that it is no sin for a man to labour in 
 
 
 
 Called for water to wash his hands hands ; 
 
 i his vocation.' He afterwards became a celebrat- 
 
 
 
 And he is awa' to Braidisbanks, 
 
 i ed jester in the English court. In more modern 
 
 
 
 To ding the dun deer down down, 
 
 times, he might have found a court in which his 
 
 
 
 To ding the dun deer down. 
 
 virtues would have entitled him to a higher 
 station. He was dismissed in disgrace in the 
 
 
 
 Johnie lookit east and Johnie lookit west, 
 
 year 1637, fin his insolent wit, of which the fol- 
 
 
 
 And its lang before the sun sun ; 
 
 lowing may serve as a specimen. One day, when 
 
 
 
 And there did he spy the dun deer he, 
 
 archbishop Laud was just about to say grace 
 
 
 
 Beneath a bush of brume brume, 
 
 before dinner, Archie begged permission of the 
 
 
 
 Beneath a bush o' brume. 
 
 king to perform that office in his stead ; and 
 having received it, said, ' AM. praise to God, and 
 
 
 
 Johnie shot, and the dun deer lap, 
 
 little Laud to the deil.' The exploit detailed in 
 
 
 
 And he's woundither in the side side; 
 
 this ballad has been preserved, with many others 
 
 
 
 Out then spake his sister's son, 
 
 of the same kind, by tradition, and is at this time 
 
 
 
 " And the neist will lay her pride pride, 
 
 current in Eskdale.'] 
 
 
 
 And the neist will lay her pride." 
 
 As Ajrchie passed the Brockwood leys, 
 
 
 
 They've eaten sae meikle o' the gude venison, 
 
 He caused the blinkan moon, 
 
 
 
 And they've drunken sae muckle o' the 
 
 For shouts were borne upo' the breeze 
 
 
 
 blade blude, 
 
 Frae a' the hills aboon. 
 
 
 
 That they've follen into as sound a sleep 
 
 
 
 
 As gif that they were dead dead, 
 
 A herd had marked his lingering pace, 
 
 
 
 As gif that they were dead. 
 
 That e'enin' near the fauld, 
 And warned his fellows to the chace, 
 
 
 
 "Its doun, and its doun, and its doun doun, 
 
 For he kenn'd him stout and bauld. 
 
 
 
 And its doun amang the scrogs scrogs ; 
 
 
 
 
 And there ye'll espy twa bonnie boys lie, 
 
 A light shone frae Gilnockie tower; 
 
 
 
 Asleep amang their dogs dogs, 
 
 He thought, as he ran past,— 
 
 
 
 Asleep amang their dogs." 
 
 " Johnie ance was stiff in stour, 
 But hangit at the last !" — 
 
 
 
 They waukened Johnie out o' his sleep, 
 
 
 
 
 And he's drawn to him his coat coat ; 
 
 His load was heavy, and the way 
 
 
 
 " My ringers five save me alive, 
 
 ■Was rough, and ill to find ; 
 
 
 
 And a stout heart fail me not not, 
 
 But ere he reached the Stubholm brae 
 
 
 
 And a stout heart fail me not '." $ 
 
 } His faes were far behind. 
 
 
 
 
 
 " i 
 

 
 408 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 He clamb the Vrae, and frae his brow { 
 
 The draps fell fast and free ; 
 And when he heard a loud halloo, 
 
 A waefu' man was he. 
 
 ^ " Aft ha'e ye thinned our master's hems, 
 
 And elsewhere cast the blame ; 
 
 Now ye may spare your wilie words, 
 
 For we have traced ye hame." — 
 
 
 O'er his left shouther, towards the muir, 
 
 An anxious e'e he cast ; 
 And oh ! when he stepped o'er the door, 
 
 His wife she looked aghast. 
 
 " Your sheep for warlds I wadna take ; 
 
 Deil ha'e me if I am lying ; 
 But haud your tongues for mercie's sake, 
 
 The bairn's just at the dying. 
 
 
 " Ah wherefore, Archie, wad ye slight 
 Ilk word o' timely warning P 
 
 I trow ye will be ta'en the night, 
 And hangit i' the morning." — 
 
 "If e'er I did sae fause a feat, 
 As thin my neebor's faulds, 
 
 May I be doomed the flesh to eat 
 This vera cradle holds 1 
 
 
 "Now haud your tongue, ye prating wife, 
 
 And help me as ye dow ; 
 I wad be laith to lose my life 
 
 For ae poor silly yowe."— 
 
 " But gin ye reck na what I swear, 
 Go search the biggin thorow, 
 
 And if ye find ae trotter there, 
 Then hang me up the morrow." — 
 
 
 They stript awa' the skin a£f hand, 
 
 Wi' a' the woo" aboon, 
 There's ne'er a flesher i' the land 
 
 Had done it half sae soon. 
 
 They thought to find the stolen gear, 
 They searched baith but and ben ; 
 
 But a* was clean, and a' was clear, 
 And naething could they ken. 
 
 
 They took the haggis-bag and heart, 
 The heart but and the liver; 
 
 Alake, that siccan a noble part 
 Should win intull the river 1 
 
 And what to think they couldna tell, 
 They glowred at ane anither , — 
 
 " Sure, Patie, 'twas the deil himsel' 
 That ye saw rinning hither. 
 
 
 But Archie he has ta'en them a', 
 And wrapt them i' the skin ; 
 
 And he has thrown them o'er the wa', 
 And sicht whan they fell in. 
 
 " Or aiblins Maggie's ta'en the yowe,* 
 And thus beguiled your e'e."— 
 
 " Hey, Bobbie, man, and like enowe, 
 For I ha'e nae rowan tree." — 
 
 
 The cradle stan's by the ingle toom, 
 The bairn wi' auntie stays; 
 
 They clapt the carcase in its room, 
 And smoored it wi' the claes. 
 
 Awa' they went wi' muckle haste, 
 Convinced 'twas Maggie Brown ; 
 
 And Maggie, ere eight days were past, 
 Got niair nor ae new gown. 
 
 
 And down sat Archie daintilie, 
 
 And rocked it wi' his hand ; 
 Siccan a rough nourice as he 
 
 Was not in a' the land. 
 
 And saftlie he began to croon, 
 
 " Hush, hushabye, my dear."— 
 He hadna sang to sio a tune, 
 
 I trow, for mony a year. 
 
 Now frae the hills they cam' in haste, 
 
 A' rinning out o' breath.— 
 " Ah, Archie, we ha'e got ye fast, 
 
 And ye maun die the death J a 
 
 Then Archie turned him on his heel, 
 And gamesomelie did say, — 
 
 "I didna think that half sae weel 
 The nourice I could play." 
 
 
 * There is no district wherein witches seem to. 
 have maintained a more extensive, or more re- 
 cent influence than in Eskdale. It is not long 
 since the system of bribery, alluded to in the 
 next stanza, was carried on in that part of the 
 country. The rowan-tree, or mountain-ash, is 
 well known to be a sure preservative against the 
 i power of witchcraft. — Scott. 
 
 
 
 
BORDEK BALLADS. 
 
 409 
 
 And Archie didna break his aith, 
 He ate the cradled sheep; 
 
 I trow he wasna very laith 
 Siccan a vow to keep. 
 
 And aft sinsyne to England's king 
 
 The story he has told ; 
 And aye when he 'gan rock and sinj 
 
 Charlie his sides wad hold. 
 
 mmmt ©f tfie 2©oirtJn OTitoofcou 
 
 [" This fragment, obtained from Tecitation in 
 the Forest of Ettrick, is said to relate to the ex- 
 ecution of Cockburne of Henderland, a border 
 freebooter, hanged over the gate of his own 
 tower, by James V., in the course of that memo- 
 rable expedition, in 1529, which was fatal to 
 Johnie Armstrang, Adam Scott of Tushielaw, 
 and many other marauders. The vestiges of the 
 castie of Henderland are still to be traced upon 
 the farm of that name, belonging to Mr Murray 
 of Henderland. They are situated near the mouth 
 of the river Meggat, which falls into the lake of 
 St Mary, in Selkirkshire. The adjacent country, 
 which now hardly bears a single tree, is cele- 
 brated by Lesly, as, in his time, affording shelter 
 to the largest stags in Scotland. A mountain 
 torrent, called Henderland Burn, rushes impe- 
 tuously from the hills, through a rocky chasm, 
 named the Dow-glen, and passes near the site of 
 the tower. To the recesses of this glen, the wife 
 of Cockburne is said to have retreated, during the 
 execution of her husband; and a place, called 
 the Lady's Seat, is still shown, where she is said 
 to have striven to drown, amid the roar of a 
 foaming cataract, the tumultuous noise, which 
 announced the close of his existence. In a 
 deserted burial-place, which once surrounded 
 the chapel of the castle, the monument of Cock- 
 burne and his lady is still shown. It is a large 
 stone, broken in three parts ; but some armorial 
 bearings may yet be traced, and the following 
 inscription is still legible, though defaced : 
 
 * Hebe i,tes Perys of Cokburne and his 
 
 wife marjory.' 
 
 " Tradition says, that Cockburne was surprised 
 
 by the king,,while v sitting at dinner. After the 
 
 execution, James marched rapidly forward, to 
 
 surprise Adam Scott of Tushielaw, called the*; 
 
 4bKing 
 
 of the Border, and sometimes the King of 
 Thieves. A path through the mountains, which 
 separate the vale of Ettrick from the head of 
 Yarrow, is still called the King's Road, and 
 seems to have been the route which he followed. 
 The remains of the tower of Tushielaw are yet 
 visible, overhanging the wild banks of the 
 Ettrick ; and are an object of terror to the be- 
 nighted peasant, from an idea of their being 
 haunted by spectres. From these heights, and 
 through the adjacent county of Peebles, passes a 
 wild path, called still the Thief s Road, from 
 having been used chiefly by the marauders of the 
 border." — Scott's Minstrelsy.] 
 
 Mr. love he built me a bonnie bower, 
 And clad it a' wi' lilye flour, 
 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 poin'd his gear; 
 My servants all for life did flee, 
 And left me in extremitie. 
 
 I sew'd 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 1 gaed, and whiles I sat ; 
 
 I digg'd a grave, and laid him in, 
 
 And happ'd him with the sod sae green. 
 
 But think na ye my heart was sair, 
 When 1 laid the moul' on his yellow hair 
 O think na ye my heart was wae, 
 When I turn'd about, away to gae? 
 
 Nae living man I'll love again, 
 Since that my lively knight is slain* 
 Wi' ae lock cf his yellow hair 
 I'll chain my heart for evermair. 
 
410 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 l" The Graemes were a powerful and nume- 
 rous clan, who chiefly inhabited the Debate- 
 able Land. They were said to be of Scottish ex- 
 traction, and their chief claimed his descent 
 from Malice, earl of Stratlume. In military 
 service, they were more attached to England 
 than to Scotland, but, in their depredations 
 on both countries, they appear to have been 
 very impartial; for, in the year 1600, the 
 gentlemen of Cumberland alleged to Lord 
 Scroope, 'that the Graemes, and their clans, 
 with their children, tenants, and servants, were 
 the chiefest actors in the spoil and decay of the 
 country.' Accordingly ; they were, at that time, 
 obliged to give a bond of surety for each other's 
 peaceable demeanour; from which bond, their 
 numbers appear to have exceeded four hundred 
 men. — See Introduction to Nicolson's History of 
 Cumberland, p. cviii. 
 
 " Eichard Graeme, of the family of Netherbye, 
 was one of the attendants upon Charles I., when 
 prince of Wales, and accompanied him upon his 
 romantic journey through Prance and Spain. 
 The following little anecdote, which then oc- 
 curred, will show, that the memory of the 
 Graemes' border exploits was at that time still 
 preserved. 
 
 " ' They were now entered into the deep time 
 of Lent, and could get no flesh in their inns. 
 Whereupon fell out u pleasant passage, if I may 
 insert it, by the way, among more serious. 
 There was, near Bayonne, a herd of goats, with 
 their young ones ; upon the sight whereof, Sir 
 Richard Graham tells the marquis (of Bucking- 
 ham), that he would snap one of the kids, and 
 make some shift to carry him snug to their lodg- 
 ing. Which the prince overhearing, " Why, 
 Eichard," says he, " do you think you may prac- 
 tise here your old tricks upon the borders?" 
 Upon which words, they, in the first place, gave 
 the goat-herd good contentment; and then, 
 while the marquis and Eichard, being both on 
 foot, were chasing the kid about the stack, the 
 prince, from horse-back, killed him in the head, 
 with a Scottish pistol. — Which circumstance, 
 though trifling, may yet serve to show how his 
 Eoyal Highness, even in such slight and sportful 
 damage, had a noble sense of just dealing.' — Sir 
 H. Wotton's Life of tha Duke of Buckingham. 
 
 as "1 find no traces of this particular Hughio 
 Graeme, of the ballad ; but, from the mention 
 of the Bishop, I suspect he may have been one, of 
 about four hundred borderers, against whom 
 bills of complaint were exhibited to Eobert Ald- 
 ridge, lord bishop of Carlisle, about 1553, for 
 divers incursions, burnings, murders, mutila- 
 tions, and spoils, by them committed.— Nicol- 
 son's History, Introduction, lxxxi. There appear 
 a number of Graemes, in the specimen which we 
 have of that list of delinquents. 
 " There occur, in particular, 
 
 • Ritchie Grame of Bailie, 
 
 Will's Jock Grame, 
 
 Fargue's Willie Grame, 
 
 Muckle Willie Grame, 
 
 Will Grame of Roaetreea, 
 
 Ritchie Grame, younger, of Netherby, 
 
 Wat Grame, called Flaughtail, 
 
 Will Grame, Nimble Willie, 
 
 Will Grahame, Mickle Willie,' 
 
 with many others. 
 
 " In Mr Eitson's curious and valuable collection 
 of legendary poetry, entitled Ancient Songs, he 
 has published this Border ditty, from a collation 
 of two old black-letter copies, one in the collec- 
 tion of the late John duke of Eoxburghe, and 
 another in the hands of John Bayne, Esq. — The 
 learned editor mentions another copy, beginning, 
 ' Good Lord John has a-hunting gone.' The 
 present edition was procured for me by my friend 
 Mr William Laidlaw, in Blackhouse, and has 
 been long current in Selkirkshire. Mr Eitson's 
 copy has occasionally been resorted to for better 
 readings." — Scolt't Minstrelsy.] 
 
 Gudb Lord Scroope's to the hunting gane, 
 He has ridden o'er moss and muir; 
 
 And he has grippit Hughie the Graeme, 
 For stealing o' the bishop's mare. 
 
 " Now, good Lord Scroope, this may not be ! 
 
 Here hangs a broad sword by my side ; 
 And if that thou canst conquer me, 
 
 The matter it may soon be tryed." 
 
 " I ne'er was afraid of a traitor thief; 
 
 Although thy name be Hughie the Gresme, 
 I'll make thee repent thee of thy deeds, 
 
 If God but grant me life and time." 
 
 " Then do your worst now, good Lord Scroope, 
 
 And deal your blows as hard as you can; 
 It shall be tried within an hour, 
 ^ Which of us two is the better man.' 
 

 
 
 
 BORDER BALLADS. 4 IX 
 
 
 
 But as they were dealing their blows so free, S& " Fare ye weel, fair Maggie, my wife . 
 
 
 
 And both so bloody at the time, 
 
 The last time we came ower the muir, 
 
 
 
 Over the moss came ten yeomen so tall, 
 
 'Twas thou bereft me of my life, 
 
 
 
 All for to take brave Hughie the Graeme. 
 
 And wi' the bishop thou play'd the whore. ^ 
 
 
 
 Then they ha'e grippit Hughie the Graeme, 
 
 "Here, Johnie Armstrang, take thou my swori 
 
 
 
 And brought him up through Carlisle town ; 
 
 That is made o' the met al sae fine ; 
 
 
 
 The lasses and lads stood on the walls, 
 
 And when thou comest to the English side,§ 
 
 
 
 Crying, " Hughie the Graeme, thou'se ne'er 
 
 Eemember the death of Hughie the Graeme.' 
 
 
 
 gae down!" 
 
 
 
 
 Then ha'e they chosen a jury of men, 
 
 
 
 
 
 The best that were in Carlisle* town; 
 
 
 
 
 And twelve of them cried out at once, 
 
 HUGHIE GRAHAM. 
 
 
 
 " Hughie the Graeme, thou must gae 
 
 
 
 
 down !" 
 
 [Tan following version of Hughie Graham, 
 Burns transmitted to Johnson's Museum. He 
 
 
 
 Then up bespak' him gude Lord Hume, f 
 
 says he obtained it from oral tradition in Ayr- 
 
 
 
 As he sat by the judge's knee, — 
 
 shire. In this version it will be seen that Stir- 
 
 
 
 "Twenty white owsen, my gude lord. 
 
 If you'll grant Hughie the Graeme to me." i 
 
 ling, not Carlisle, is made the locality of the 
 song.] 
 
 
 
 *" no, no, my gude lord Hume < 
 
 
 
 
 Forsooth and sae it mauna be ; 
 
 Oub lords are to the mountains gane, 
 
 
 
 For were there but three Graemes of the name, 
 
 A-hunting o' the fallow deer, 
 
 
 
 They suld be hanged a' for me." 
 
 And they ha'e grippit Hughie Graham 
 For stealing o' the bishop's mare. 
 
 
 
 'Twas up and spake the gude Lady Hume, 
 
 
 
 
 As she sat by the judge's knee, — 
 
 And they ha'e tied him hand and foot, 
 
 
 
 " A peck of white pennies, my gude lord judge, 
 
 And led him up through Stirling town ; 
 
 
 
 If you'll grant Hughie the Graeme to me." 
 
 The lads and lasses met him there, 
 
 Cried, " Hughie Graham thou art a 
 
 
 
 " no, no, my gude Lady Hume : 
 
 loun." 
 
 
 
 Forsooth and so it mustna be ; 
 
 i 
 
 
 
 "Were he but the one Graeme of the name, 
 
 " lowse my right hand free," he says, 
 
 
 
 He suld be hanged high for me." 
 
 " And put my braid sword in the same ; 
 He's no in Stirling town this day, 
 
 
 
 " If I be guilty," said Hughie the Graeme, 
 
 Dare tell the tale to Hughie Graham." 
 
 
 
 " Of me my friends shall have small talk;" 
 
 
 
 
 And he has louped fifteen feet and three, 
 
 "Up then bespake the brave Whitefoord, 
 
 
 
 Iho ' his han ds they were tied behind his back. 
 
 As he sat by the bishop's knee, 
 " Five hundred white stots I'll gi'e you, 
 
 
 
 He looked over his left shoulder, 
 
 If ye'll let Hughie Graham gae free." 
 
 
 
 And for to see what he might see ; 
 There was he aware of his auld father, 
 
 1 
 
 
 1 "■ 
 
 
 Came tearing his hair most piteously. 
 
 1 ± Of the morality of Robert Aldrige, bishop of 
 ] Carlisle, we know but little ; but his political 
 
 
 
 " hald your tongue, my father," he says, 
 
 and religious faith were of a stretching and ac- 
 
 
 
 " And see that ye dinna weep for me J 
 
 1 commodating texture. Anthony a "Wood ob- 
 
 
 
 For they may ravish me o' my life, 
 
 1 serves, that there were many changes in his 
 
 
 
 But they canna banish me fro' heaven hie. 
 
 . time, both in church and state ; but that the 
 worthy prelate retained his offices and prefer- 
 | ments during them ail. — Scott. 
 
 
 
 
 * Garlard— Anc. Songs, f Boles— Anc. Songs. ^ 
 
 % § Border — Anc. Songs. 
 
 
 
 
412 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 " O haud your tongue," the bishop says, 
 " And wi' your pleading let me be ; 
 
 For though ten Grahams were in his coat, 
 Hughie Graham this day shall dee." 
 
 Up then bespake the fair Whitefoord, 
 As she sat by the bishop's knee ; 
 
 " Five hundred white pence I'll gi'e you, 
 If ye'll gi'e Hughie Graham to me." 
 
 " O haud your tongue now lady fair, 
 And wi' your pleading let it be, 
 
 Although ten Grahams were in his coat, 
 Its for my honour he maun dee." 
 
 They've ta'en him to the gallows knowe, 
 
 He looked to the gallows tree, 
 Yet never colour left his cheek, 
 
 Nor ever did he blin' hia e'e. 
 
 At length he looked round about, 
 
 To see whatever he could spy; 
 And there he saw his auld father, 
 
 And he was weeping bitterly. 
 
 " O haud your tongue, my father dear, 
 And wi' your weeping let it be; 
 
 Thy weeping 's sairer on my heart, 
 Than a' that they can do to me. 
 
 " And ye may gi'e my brother John 
 
 My sword that's bent in the middle clear, 
 
 And let him come at twelve o p clock, 
 And see me pay the bishop's mare. 
 
 " And ye may gi'e my brother James 
 
 My sword that's tent in the middle brown, 
 
 And bid him come at four o' clock, 
 And see his brother Hugh cut down. 
 
 "Eemember me to Maggy my wife, 
 The neist time ye gang o'er the moor, 
 
 Tell her she staw the bishop's mare, 
 Tell her she was the bishop's whore. 
 
 " And ye may tell my kith and kin, 
 I never did disgrace their blood ; 
 
 And when they meet the bishop's cloak 
 To mak' it shorter by the hood." 
 
 ®l>e %ukh of Eaktetan, 
 
 OR THE 
 
 THREE CHAMPIONS OF LIDDISDALE 
 
 [From "The Mountain Bard," by James Hoog 
 — " The scene of this ballad," says the Shepherd, 
 "is laid in the upper parts of Liddisdale, in 
 which district the several residences of the three 
 champions are situated, as is also the old castle 
 of Hermitage, with the farm-houses of Saughen- 
 tree and Eoughley. As to the authenticity of 
 the story, all that I can say of it is, that I used 
 to hear it told when I was a boy, by William 
 Scott, a joiner of that country, and was much 
 taken with some of the circumstances. Were I 
 to relate it verbatim, it would only be anticipat- 
 ing a great share of the poem. — One verse is 
 ancient, beginning, ' O wae be to thee,' &c."J 
 
 "O Dickie, 'tis light, and the moon shines 
 bright, 
 
 Will ye gang and watch the deer wi' me ?" 
 " Ay, by my sooth, at the turn o' the night, 
 
 We'll drive the holm of the Saughentree." 
 
 The moon bad turned the roof of heaven ; 
 
 The ground lay deep in drifted snaw ; 
 The Hermitage bell had rung eleven, 
 
 And our yeomen watched behind the ha' J 
 
 The deer was skight, and the snaw was light, 
 And never a blood-drap could they draw, 
 
 " Now by my sooth," cried Dickie then, 
 " There's something yonder will fear us a.' 
 
 " Eight owre the knowe where Liddel lies, — 
 Nae wonder that it derkens my e'e, 
 
 See yonder's a thing of fearsome size, 
 And its moving this way hastilye. 
 
 " Say, what is yon, my brother John ? 
 
 The Lord preserve baith you and me ! 
 But our hearts are the same, and sure our aim, 
 
 And he that comes near these bullets shall 
 prie." 
 
 " O haud your tongue, my brother dear, 
 
 Let us survey't wi' 6teady e'e ; 
 'Tis a dead man they are carrying here, 
 
 And 'tis fit that the family warned should be." 
 

 
 
 BOEDER BALLADS. 413 
 
 
 They ran to the ha*, and they wakened them a', -. 
 
 But none were at home but maidens three; 
 Then close in the shade of the wall they staid, 
 
 To watch what the issue of this would be. 
 
 ! " Now wae be to thee, Armstrong o' Millburn 
 And an ill death may'st thou dee '. 
 Thou hast put down brave Lairistan, 
 But his equal thou wilt never be. 
 
 
 
 And there they saw a dismal sight, 
 
 A sight had nearly freezed their blood ; 
 
 One lost her sight in the fair moon-light, 
 And one of them fainted where they stood. 
 
 " The Bewcastle men may ramp and rave, 
 And drive away the Liddisdale kye : 
 
 For now is our guardian laid in his grave, 
 And Branxholm and Thirlestane distant lye." 
 
 
 
 Four stalwart men, on arms so bright, 
 
 Came bearing a corpse with many a wound ; 
 
 His habit bespoke him a lord or knight ; 
 And his fair ringlets swept the ground. 
 
 The dalesmen thus his loss deplore, 
 And every one his virtues tell : 
 
 His hounds lay howling at the door, 
 His hawks flew idle o'er the fell. 
 
 
 
 They heard one to another say — 
 
 " A place to leave him will not be found; 
 The door is locked, and the key away, 
 
 In the byre will we lay him down." 
 
 "When three long years were come and gone, 
 Two shepherds sat on Roughley hill; 
 
 And aye they sighed and made their moan, 
 O'er the present times that looked so ill. 
 
 
 
 Then into the byre the corpse they bore, 
 And away they fled right speedilye; 
 
 The rest took shelter behind the door, 
 In wild amazement as well might be. 
 
 " Our young king lives at London town, 
 Buccleuch must bear him companye ; 
 
 And Thirlestane's all to flinders gone, 
 And who shall our protector be ? 
 
 
 
 And into the byre no ane durst gang, 
 No, not for the life of his bodye ; 
 
 But the blood on the snaw was trailed alang, 
 And they kend a' wasna as it should be. 
 
 " And jealous of the Stuart race, 
 The English lords begin to thraw ; 
 
 Tho land is in a piteous case, 
 "When subjects rise against the law. 
 
 
 
 Next morning all the dalesmen ran, 
 For soon the word was far and wide; 
 
 And there lay the Laird of Laiiistan, 
 The bravest knight on the Border side ! 
 
 " Our grief and ruin are forespoke, 
 The nation has received a stain — 
 
 A stain like that on Sundup's cloak, 
 That never will wash out again." 
 
 
 
 He was wounded behind, and wounded before, 
 And cloven through the left cheek-bone; 
 
 And clad in the habit he daily wore;. 
 
 But his sword, and his belt, and his bonnet 
 were gone. 
 
 1 Amazement kythed in the shepherd's face, 
 His mouth to open wide began ; 
 He stared and looked from place to place, 
 As things across his mem'ry ran. 
 
 
 
 Then east and west the word has gane, 
 And soon to Branxholm ha' it flew, 
 
 That Elliot of Lairistan he was slain, 
 Aiid how or why no living knew. 
 
 The broidered cloak of gaudy green, 
 Which Sundup wore, and was sae gay, 
 
 For three lang years had ne'er been seen, 
 At chapel, raid, nor holiday. 
 
 
 
 Buccleuch has mounted his milk-white steed, 
 "With fifty knights in his company; 
 
 To Hermitage castle they rode with speed, 
 "Where all the dale was summoned to be. 
 
 Once on a night he overheard, 
 
 From two old dames of southron land, 
 A tide the which he greatly feared, 
 
 But ne'er could th'roughly understand. 
 
 
 
 And soon they came, a numerous host, 
 
 And they swore and touched the fair bodye ; 
 
 But Jocky o' Millburn he was lost. 
 
 And could not be found in the halecountrye. s 
 
 " Now tell me, neighbour, tell me true ; 
 
 Your sim'lie bodes us little good ; 
 
 I fear the cloak you mentioned now, — 
 
 j I fear 'tis stained with noble blood '." 
 
 
 
 
414 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 " Indeed, my friend, you've guessed aright ; 
 
 1 never meant to tell to man 
 That tale ; but crimes will come to light, 
 
 Let human wits do what they can. 
 
 " But He, who ruleth wise and well, 
 Hath ordered from his seat on high, 
 
 That aye since valiant Elliot fell, 
 That mantle bears the purple dye. 
 
 " And all the waters in Liddisdale, 
 And all that lash the British shore, 
 
 Can ne'er wash out the wond'rous maele ! 
 It still seems fresh with purple gore." 
 
 Then east and west the word is gane, 
 And soon to Branxholm ha' it flew; 
 
 And Halbert o' Sundup he was ta'en, 
 
 And brought before the proud Buccleuch. 
 
 The cloak was hung in open hall, 
 
 Where ladies and lords of high degree, 
 
 And many a one, both great and small, 
 Were struck with awe the same to see. 
 
 " Now tell me, Sundup," said Buccleuch, 
 " Is this the judgment of God on high ? 
 
 If that be Elliot's blood we view, 
 
 False Sundup ! thou shalt surely die !" 
 
 Then Halbert turned him where he stood, 
 And wiped the round tear frae his e'e ; 
 
 " That blood, my lord, is Elliot's blood ; 
 I winna keep in the truth frae thee." 
 
 " ever-alack !" said good Buccleuch, 
 " If that be true thou tell'st to me, 
 
 On the highest tree in Branxholm-heuch, 
 Stout Sundup, thou must hangit be." 
 
 " Tis Elliot's blood, my lord, 'tis true ; 
 
 And Elliot's death was wrought by me ; 
 And were the deed again to do, 
 
 I'd do't in spite of hell and thee. 
 
 " My sister, brave Jock Armstrong's bride, 
 The fairest flower of Liddisdale, 
 
 By Lairistan foully was betrayed, 
 And roundly has he payed the mail. 
 
 " We watched him in her secret bower, 
 And found her td his bosom prest : 
 
 He begged to have his broad claymore, 
 And dared us both to do our best. 
 
 4fe" Perhaps, my lord, yell truly saj, 
 
 In rage from laws of arms we swerved . 
 Though Lairistan got double play, 
 'Twas fairer play than he deserved. 
 
 " We might have killed him in the dark, 
 When in the lady's arms lay he ; 
 
 We might have killed him in his sark, 
 Yet gave him room to fight or flee. 
 
 " ' Come on then,' gallant Millburn cried, 
 ' My single arm shall do the deed ; 
 
 Or heavenly justice is denied, 
 Or that false heart of thine shall bleed.' 
 
 " Then to't they fell, both sharp and snell, 
 With steady hand and watchful een, 
 
 From both the trickling blood-drops fell, 
 And the words of death were said between. 
 
 " The first stroke Millburn to him gave, 
 
 He ript his bosom to the bone ; 
 Though Armstrong was a yeoman brave, 
 
 Like Elliot living there was none. 
 
 " His growth was like the border oak ; 
 
 His strength the bison's strength outvied ; 
 His courage like the mountain rock; 
 
 For skill his man he never tried. 
 
 " Oft had we three on border fray, 
 Made chiefs and armies stand in awe; 
 
 And little weened to see the day 
 On other deadly thus to draw. 
 
 " The first wound that brave Millburn got, 
 The tear of rage rowed in his e'e ; 
 
 The next stroke that brave Millburn got, 
 The blood ran dreeping to his knee. 
 
 " My sword I gripped into my hand, 
 And fast to his assistance ran ; — 
 
 What could I do f I could not stand 
 And see the base deceiver win. 
 
 " ' Now turn,' I cried, ' Thou limmer loun ! 
 
 Turn round and change a blow with n.e, 
 Or by the righteous Powers aboon, 
 
 I'll hew the arm from thy bodye.' 
 
 " He turned with many a haughty word, 
 
 And lounged and passed most furiouslye ; 
 But, with one slap of my broad sword, 
 < k I brought the traitor to his knee. 
 
BOEDER BALLADS. 
 
 415 
 
 " ' Now take thou that,' stout Armstrong cried, 
 ' For all the pain thou'st gi'en to me;' 
 
 ( Though then he shortly would have died) 
 And ran him through the fair bodye." 
 
 Buccleuch's stern look began to change, 
 
 To tine a warrior loth was he ; 
 The crime was called a brave revenge, 
 
 And Halbert of Sundup was set free. 
 
 Then every man for Millburn mourned, 
 And wished him to enjoy his own ; 
 
 But Millburn never more returned, 
 
 Till ten long years were come and gone. 
 
 Then loud alarms through England ring, 
 And deeds of death and dool began ; 
 
 The commons rose against the king, 
 And friends to diffrent parties ran. 
 
 The nobles join the royal train, 
 
 And soon his ranks with grandeur fill ; 
 
 They sought their foes with might and main, 
 And found them lying on Edgehill. 
 
 The trumpets blew, the bullets flew, 
 And long and bloody was the fray ; 
 
 At length o'erpowered, the rebel crew 
 Before the royal troops gave way. 
 
 " Who was the man," Lord Lindsey cried, 
 " That fought so well through all the fray ? 
 
 "Whose coat of rags, together tied, 
 Seems to have seen a better day. 
 
 " Such bravery in so poor array, 
 
 I never in my life did see ; 
 His valour three times turned the day, 
 
 When we were on the point to flee." 
 
 Then up there spoke a man of note, 
 
 Who stood beside his majestye, 
 " My liege, the man's a Border Scot, 
 
 Who volunteered to fight for thee. 
 
 " He says you're kind, but counselled ill, 
 And sit unstable on your throne, 
 
 But had he power unto his will, 
 
 He swears he'd kill the dogs each one." 
 
 The king he smiled, and said aloud, 
 " Go bring the valiant Scot to me ; 
 
 When we have all our foes subdued, 
 The lord of Liddel he shall be." 
 
 The king gave him his gay gold ring, 
 And made him there a belted knight. 
 
 But Millburn bled to save his king, 
 The king to save his royal right. 
 
 ["This ballad," says the Ettrick Shepherd, 
 " was written by my nephew, Robert Hogg, stu- 
 dent in the College of Edinburgh, on purpose 
 for insertion in the Edinburgh Annual Register, 
 He brought it to me, aud I went over it with 
 him, and was so delighted with the humour of 
 the piece, that I advised him to send it with his 
 name. The editor, however, declined inserting 
 it ; and it is here published, word for word, as 
 sent to him. A natural inclination to admire 
 youthful efforts may make me judge partially; 
 but, I think, if it is not a good imitation of the 
 old Border ballad, I never saw one. The old 
 castle of Hawkshaw was situated in a wild dell, 
 a little to the westward of the farm-house of that 
 name, which stands in the glen of Fruid in 
 Tweedsmuir. It was built, and inhabited long, 
 by the Porteouses, an ancient family of that dis- 
 trict. A knight of the name of Sir Patrick Por- 
 teous of Hawkshaw was living in a. d. 1600. His 
 eldest daughter Janet was married to Scott of 
 Thirlstane. All the places mentioned are in the 
 direct line from Hawkshaw to Tarras, a wild 
 and romantic little river between the Ewes and 
 Liddel. The names of the warriors inserted, are 
 those of families proven to be residing in the 
 district at the same period of time with Patrick 
 Porteous. I cannot find that the ballad is 
 founded on any fact or traditionary tale, save 
 that Porteous once, having twenty English 
 prisoners, of whom he was tired, took them out 
 to the top of a hill called the Fala Moss, and 
 caused his men fell them one by one with a mail, 
 and fling them into a large hole for burial. 
 Whilst they were busy with some of the hind- 
 most, one of those previously felled started up 
 from the pit and ran off. He was pursued for a 
 long way, and at last, being hard pressed, he 
 threw himself over a linn in Glen-Craigie, an 1 
 killed himself. As the pit in which they were 
 buried was in a moss, some of their bones were 
 distinguishable by the shepherds, who digged for 
 them, only a few years ago."] 
 
416 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 Pate Portroijs sat in Hawkshaw tower, 
 An' O right douf an' dour was he ; 
 
 Nae voice of joy was i' the ha', 
 Nae sound o' mirth or revelry. 
 
 His brow was hung wi' froward scowl, 
 His e'e was dark as dark could be ; 
 
 An' aye he strade across the ha', 
 
 An' thus he spoke right boisterouslye : 
 
 "Yestreen, on Hawkshaw hills o' green, . 
 
 My flocks in peace an' safety strayed; 
 To-day, nor ewe, nor steer, is seen 
 
 On a' my baronie sae braid : 
 
 " But I will won, an haud my ain, 
 Wi' ony wight on Border side; 
 
 Make ready then, my merry men a', 
 Make ready, swiftly we maun ride. 
 
 " Gae saddle me my coal-black steed, 
 Gae saddle me my bonnie gray, 
 
 An' warder, sound the rising note, 
 For we ha'e far to ride or day." 
 
 The slogan jar was heard afar, 
 
 An' soon owre hill, owre holt, an' brae, 
 His merry men came riding in, 
 
 All armed an' mounted for the fray. 
 
 As they fared oure the saddle-yoke, 
 
 The moon rase owre the Merk-side bree; 
 
 " Welcome, auld dame," Pate Porteous cried, 
 " Aft ha'e ye proved a friend to me. 
 
 " Gin thou keep on, but clud or mist, 
 
 Until Glendarig steps we won, 
 I'll let you see as brave a chace 
 
 As ever down the Esk was run." 
 
 As they rade down by Rangecleuch ford, 
 They met Tarn Bold o' Kirkhope town ; 
 
 "Now whar gang ye, thou rank reaver, 
 Beneath the ae light o' the moon ?" 
 
 " When ye were last at Hawkshaw ha', 
 Tarn Bold, I had a stock right guid ; 
 
 Now I ha'e neither cuw nor ewe 
 On a' the bonnie braes o' Fruid." 
 
 " ever alak !" quo' auld Tarn Bold, 
 "Now, Pate, for thee my heart is wae; 
 
 I saw your flocks gang owre the muir 
 O' Wingate by the skreigh o' day. 
 
 Q " Pate, ye maun ride for Liddel side, 
 
 An' tarry at the Tarras lair ; 
 
 Gin they get owre the Border line, 
 
 Your ewes an' kye you'll see nae mair." 
 
 As they rade owre by Sorbie-swire, 
 The day-light glimmered on the lea; 
 
 " O, lak-a-day ! my bonnie gray, 
 I find ye plaittin' at the knee. 
 
 " Streek gin ye dow to Tarras flow, 
 On you depends your master's a', 
 
 An' ye's be fed wi' bread an' wine, 
 
 When ye gang hame to Hawkshaw ha'. 
 
 They spurred owre moss, owre muir an' fell, 
 Till mony a naig he swarf'd away ; 
 
 At length they wan the Tarras moss, 
 An' lightit at the skreigh o' day. 
 
 The stots came rowtin' up the bent, 
 Tossin' their white horns to the sun; 
 
 "Now, by my sooth !" Pate Porteous cried, 
 " My owsen will be hard to won." 
 
 Up came the captain o' the gang, 
 
 I wat a stalwart lad was he ; 
 " What lowns are ye," he bauldly cried, 
 
 " That dare to stop my kye an' me ?" 
 
 " Light down, light down, thou fause Southron, 
 
 An' sey a skelp or twa wi' me, 
 For ye ha'e reaved my flocks an' kye, 
 
 An', by my sooth, reveng'd I'll be. 
 
 "It's ne'er be said a Tweeddale knight 
 Was tamely harried o' his gear, 
 
 That Pate o' Hawkshaw e er was cowed, 
 Or braved by Southron arm in weir." 
 
 Then up an' spak' the English chief, 
 A dauntless blade I wat was he, 
 
 " Now wha are ye, ye saucy lown, 
 
 That speaks thus haughtilye to me ?" 
 
 " My name it is Pate Porteous hight, 
 Light down an' try your hand wi' me, 
 
 For by my sooth, or thou shalt yield, 
 Or one of us this day shall die." 
 
 The Southron turned him round about, 
 An' lightly on the ground lap he ; 
 
 " I rede thee, Scot, thou meet'st thy death 
 If thou dar'st cross a sword wi' me ; 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 BORDER BALLADS. ^\ij 
 
 
 "Have ye ne'er heard i' reife or raide, { 
 
 ^ " Now, fy lay on !" quo' Ringan's Eab, 
 
 
 
 0' Ringan's Rab o' Thorlberrye ? 
 
 " Lay on them, lads o' English blude_ 
 
 
 
 If ye ha'e not, ye ha'e excuse 
 
 The Scottish brand i' dalesmen's hand 
 
 
 
 For cracking here sae crabbedlye. 
 
 'Gainst Southland weapon never stuae." 
 
 
 
 " But I can tell thee, muirland Pate, 
 
 " Lay on them, lads," cried Hawkshaw Pate 
 
 
 
 Wi' hingin' mou' an' blirtit e'e, 
 
 " Our horses lack baith hay an' corn ; 
 
 
 
 Te'll tell your wife a"n' bairns at name, 
 
 An' we maun a' ha'e English naigs 
 
 
 
 How Ringan's Robin yerkit thee." 
 
 Out owre the Penraw Cross the morn." 
 
 
 
 Pate Porteous was a buirdly wight, 
 
 The Tweedies gart their noddles crack, 
 
 
 
 An arm o' strength an' might had h.', 
 
 Like auld pot-metal, yank for yank ; 
 
 
 
 He brooked nae fear, but made his bragg 
 
 Montgomery, wi' his spearmen guid, 
 
 
 
 In deeds o' desperate devilrye. 
 
 He bored them trimly i' the flank. 
 
 
 
 " Have done," he cried, " Thou stalwart 
 
 An' Sandy Welsh, he fought an' swore, 
 
 
 
 lown, 
 
 An' swore an' fought fu' desperatel) e ; 
 
 
 
 Thou Southron thief o' gallows fame, 
 
 But Jockie o' Talla got a skelp 
 
 
 
 I only ken that I am wranged, 
 
 That cluve him to the left e'e-bree. 
 
 
 
 An' thou shalt answer for the same." 
 
 The Hurrays fought like dalesmen true, 
 
 
 
 They tied their horses to the birk, 
 
 An' stude i' reid blude owre the shoon ; 
 
 
 
 An' drew their swords o' mettle keen ; 
 
 The Johnstons, an' the Frazers too, 
 
 
 
 But sic a fray, as chanced that day, 
 
 Hade doughty wark or a' was done. 
 
 
 
 On Border-side was never seen. 
 
 The Tods an' Kerrs gaed hand an' gluve, 
 
 
 
 Pate Porteous was the first ae man 
 
 An' bathed i' blude their weapons true ; 
 
 
 
 That shawed the red blude to the e'e, 
 
 An' Jamie o' Carterhope was there, 
 
 
 
 Out o' the Southron's brawny thigh 
 
 An' Harstane stout, an' young Badlewe. 
 
 
 
 He carved a slice right dextrouslye. 
 
 Brave Norman Hunter o' Polmood, 
 
 
 
 " Now tak' thou that, fause Ringan's Rab, 
 
 He stood upon the knowe sae hie, 
 
 
 
 An' muckle good inay't do to thee, 
 
 An', wi' his braid-bow in his hand, 
 
 
 
 'Twill learn ye how to slice the hams 
 
 He blindit mony a Southron e'e. 
 
 
 
 0' my guid kye at Thorlberrye." 
 
 The blude ran down the Tarras bank, 
 
 
 
 " It's but a scart," quo' Ringan's Rab. 
 
 An' reddened a' the Tarras burn ; 
 
 
 
 " The stang o' a wasp is waur to bide 
 
 " Now, by my sooth," said Hawkshaw Pate, 
 
 
 
 But, or that we twa part again, 
 
 I never stood sae hard a turn. 
 
 
 
 I'll pay it on thy ain backside." 
 
 " I never saw the Southrons stand 
 
 
 
 " Now, fy lay on !" quo' Hawkshaw Pate, 
 
 An' brave the braidsword half so weel." 
 
 
 
 " Now, fy lay on, an' dinna spare , 
 
 "Deil tak' the dogs J" cried Sandy "Welsh, 
 
 
 
 If frae a Southron e'er I flinch, 
 
 " 1 trow their hides are made o' steel. 
 
 
 
 I'se never wield a weapon mair." 
 
 
 
 
 They fought it lang, they fought it sair, 
 
 " My sword is worn unto the back, 
 
 
 
 But scarcely doubtfu' was the day, 
 
 An' jagged and nickit like a thorn , 
 
 
 
 "VVhen Southrons round their captain closed, 
 
 It ne'er will ser' another turn, 
 
 
 
 An' shouted for the gen'ral fray. 
 
 But sawin' through an auld toop-horn.' 
 
 
 
 Clash went the swords along the van ; 
 
 They beat them up the Tarras bank, 
 
 
 
 It was a gallant sight to see: 
 
 An' down the back o' Birkhope brae ; 
 
 
 
 "Lay on them, lads, "cried Hawkshaw Pate, 
 
 Had it not been the Tarras flow, 
 
 
 
 " Or, faith, we'll sup but sparinglye." ^ 
 
 } Nae Englishman had 'scaped that day. 
 
 2 D 
 
 
 i 
 
418 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 There were three an thirty Englishmen 
 Lay gasping on the Tarras moss, 
 
 An' three and thirty mae were ta'en, 
 An' led out owre the Penraw Cross. 
 
 The Tweeddale lada gat horse an' kye, 
 An' ransom gowd, an' gear their fill, 
 
 An' aye sin' syne they bless the day 
 T"hey fought sae weel on Tarras bill. 
 
 Pate Porteous drave his ewea an* lrye 
 Back to their native hills again ; 
 
 He hadna lost a man but four, 
 An' Jockie o' Talla he was ane. 
 
 Stout Eingan's Rab gat hame wi' life, 
 O he was yetherit an' yerkit sair ; 
 
 But he came owre the Penraw Cross 
 To herry Tweeddale glens nae mair. 
 
BALLADS CONNECTED WITH EAIEY MYTHOLOGY. 
 
 A 
 
 ON THE FAIRIES 
 
 POPULAR SUPERSTITION. 
 
 Br Sib WALTER SCOTT. 
 fFrom Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border.] 
 
 Is a -wort, avowedly dedicated to the preserva- 
 tion of the poetry and traditions of the "olden 
 time," it would be unpardonable to omit this 
 opportunity of making some observations upon 
 so interesting an article of the popular creed, as 
 that concerning the Elves, or Fairies. The gen- 
 eral idea of spirits, of a limited power, and sub- 
 ordinate nature, dwelling among the woods and ' 
 mountains, is, perhaps, common to all nations. 
 But the intermixture of tribes, of languages, and 
 religion, which has occurred ia Europe, renders 
 it difficult to trace the origin of the names which 
 have been bestowed upon such spirits, and the 
 primary ideas which were entertained concerning 
 their manners and habits. 
 
 The word elf, which seems to have been the 
 original name of the beings, afterwards denomi- ; 
 nated fairies, is of Gothic origin, and probably 
 signified, simp'y, a spirit of a lower order. Thus, 
 the Saxons had not only dun-elfen, berg-el fen, and 
 
 munt-elfen, spirits of the downs, hills, and moun- 
 tains; but also feld-elfen, rvudu-elfen, sae-elfen, 
 and rvaier-elfen ; spirits of the fields, of the woods, 
 of the sea, and of the waters. In Low German, 
 the same latitude of expression occurs; for night 
 hags are termed aluinnen and aluen, which is 
 sometimes Latinized eluce. But the prototype of 
 the English elf is to te sought chiefly in the berg- 
 eJftn, or duergar, of the Scandinavians. From 
 the most early of the Icelandic Sagas, as well as 
 from the Edda itself, we learn the belief of the 
 northern nations in a race of dwarfish spirits, 
 inhabiting the rocky mountains, and approach- 
 ing, in some respects, to the human nature. 
 Their attributes, amongst which we recognize the 
 features of the modern Fairy, were, supernatural 
 wisdom and prescience, and skill in the mechani- 
 cal arts, especially in the fabrication of arms. 
 They are farther described, as capricious, vindic- 
 tive, and easily irritated. The story of the elfin 
 sword, Tyrfing, may be the most pleasing illus- 
 tration of this position. Suafurlami, a Scandi- 
 navian monarch, returning from hunting, be- 
 wildered himself among the mountains. About 
 sun-set he beheld a large rock, and two dwarfs 
 sitting before the mouth of a cavern. The king 
 drew his sword, and intercepted their retreat, by 
 springing betwixt them and their reces>, and 
 imposed upon them the following condition of 
 safety; — that they should make for him a faul- 
 chion, with a baldric and scabbard of pure gold, 
 
420 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 and a blade which should divide stones and iron 
 as a garment, and which should render the 
 wielder ever victorious in battle. The elves com- 
 plied with the requisition, and Suafurlami pur- 
 sued his way home. Returning at the time 
 appointed, the dwarfs delivered to him the fam- 
 ous sword Tyrfing; then, standing in the en- 
 trance of the cavern, spoke thus — " This sword, 
 O king, shall destroy a man every time it is 
 brandished ; but it shall perform three atrocious 
 deeds, and it shall be thy bane." The king 
 rushed forward with the charmed sword, and 
 buried both its edges in the rock ; but the dwarfs 
 escaped into their recesses.* This enchanted 
 sword emitted rays like the sun, dazzling all 
 against whom it was brandished ; it divided steel 
 like water, and was never unsheathed without 
 slaying a man. — Hervarar Saga, p. 9. Similar to 
 this was the enchanted sword, Skqffhung, which 
 was taken by a pirate out of the tomb of a Nor- 
 wegian monarch. Many such tales are narrated 
 in the Sagas ; but the most distinct account of 
 the duergar, or elves, and their attributes, is to 
 be found in a preface of Torfaeus to the history of 
 Hrolf Kraka, who cites a dissertation by Einar 
 Gudmund, a learned native of Iceland. " I am 
 firmly of opinion," says the Icelander, "that 
 these beings are creatures of God, consisting, like 
 human beings, of a body and rational soul ; that 
 they are of different sexes, and capable of pro- 
 ducing children, and subject to all human affec- 
 
 * Perhaps in this, and similar tales, we may 
 recognize something of real history. That the 
 Fins, or ancient natives of Scandinavia, were 
 driven into the mountains, by the invasion of 
 Odin and his Asiatics, is sufficiently probable ; 
 and there is reason to believe, that the aboriginal 
 inhabitants understood, better than the intrud- 
 ers, how to manufacture the produce of their own 
 mines. It is therefore possible, that, in process 
 of time, the oppressed Fins may have been trans- 
 formed into the supernatural duergar. A similar 
 transformation has taken place among the vulgar 
 in Scotland, regarding the Picts, or Pechs, to 
 whom they ascribe various supernatural attri- 
 
 butions, as sleeping and waking, laughing and 
 crying, poverty and wealth ; and that they pos- 
 sess cattle, and other effects, am} are obnoxious 
 to death, like other mortals." He proceeds to 
 state, that the females of this race are capable of 
 procreating with mankind ; and gives an account 
 of one who bore a child to an inhabitant of Ice- 
 land, for whom she claimed the privilege of bap- 
 tism ; depositing the infant, for that purpose, at 
 the gate of the church-yard, together with a 
 goblet of gold, as an offering.— Historia Hrolfi 
 Kraka, a Tobfaeo. 
 
 Similar to the traditions of the Icelanders, are 
 those current among the Laplanders of Finland, 
 concerning a subterranean people, gifted with 
 supernatural qualities, and inhabiting the recesses 
 of the earth. Resembling men in their general 
 appearance, the manner of their existence and 
 their habits of life, they far excel the miserable 
 Laplanders in perfection of nature, felicity of 
 situation, and skill in mechanical arts. From 
 all these advantages, however, after the partial 
 conversion of the Laplanders, the subterranean 
 people have derived no farther credit, than to be 
 confounded with the devils and magicians of the 
 dark ages of Christianity ; a degradation which, 
 as will shortly be demonstrated, has been also 
 suffered by the harmless fairies of Albion, and 
 indeed by the whole host of deities of learned 
 Greece and mighty Rome. The ancient opinions 
 are yet so firmly rooted, that the Laps of Finland, 
 at this day, boast of an intercourse with these 
 beings, in banquets, dances, and magical cere- 
 monies, and even in the more intimate commerce 
 of gallantry. They talk, with triumph, of the 
 feasts which they have shared in the elfin caverns, 
 where wine and tobacco, the productions of the 
 Fairy region, went round in abundance, and 
 whence the mortal guest, after receiving the 
 kindest treatment, and the most salutary coun- 
 sel, has been conducted to his tent under an 
 escort of his supernatural entertainers. — Jensens, 
 de Lapponibus. 
 
 & The superstitions of the islands of Feroe, con- 
 
FAIKY MYTHOLOGY. 
 
 421 
 
 eerning their Froddenskemen, or underground a 
 people, are derived from the duergar of Scandi- | 
 navia. These beings are supposed to inhabit the | 
 interior recesses of mountains, which they enter : 
 by invisible passages. Like the Fairies, they are 
 supposed to steal human beings. "It happened," 
 says Debes, p. 354, " a good while since, when 
 the burghers of Bergen had the commerce of 
 Feroe, that there was a man in Servaade, called 
 Jonas Soideman, who was kept by spirits in a 
 mountain, during the space of seven years, and 
 at length came out; but lived afterwards in 
 great distress and fear, lest they should again 
 take him away; wherefore people were obliged 
 to watch him in the night." The same author 
 mentions another young man who had been car- 
 ried away, and, after his return, was removed a 
 second time upon the eve of his marriage. He 
 returned in a short time, and narrated, that the 
 spirit that had carried him away was in the 
 shape of a most beautiful woman, who pressed 
 him to forsake his bride, and remain with her; 
 urging her own superior beauty, and splendid 
 appearance. He added, that he saw the men 
 who were employed to search for him, and heard 
 them call ; but that they could not see him, nor 
 could he answer them, till, upon his determined 
 refusal to listen to the spirit's persuasions, the 
 6pell ceased to operate. The kidney-shaped West 
 Indian bean, which is sometimes driven upon 
 the shore of the Feroes, is termed, by the natives, 
 " the Fairie's kidney." 
 
 In these traditions of the Gothic and Finnish 
 tribes, we may recognize, with certainty, the 
 rudiments of elfin superstition ; but we must 
 look to various other causes for the modifications 
 which it has undergone. These are to be sought, 
 1st, in the traditions of the east ; 2d, in the 
 wreck and confusion of the Gothic mythology ; 
 3d, in the tales of chivalry ; 4th, in the fables of 
 classical antiquity; 5th, in the influence of the 
 Christian religion ; 6th, and finally, in the crea- 
 tive imagination of the sixteenth century. It j 
 may be proper to notice the effect of these various , 
 
 causes, before stating the popular belief of our 
 own time, regarding the Fairies. 
 
 I. To the traditions of the east, the Fairies of 
 Britain owe, I think, little more than the appel- 
 lation, by which they have been distinguished 
 since the days of the crusade. The term " Fairy," 
 occurs not only in Chaucer, and in yet older 
 English authors, but also, and more frequently, 
 in the romance language ; from which they seem 
 to have adopted it. Ducange cites the following 
 passage from Gul. Guiart, in Historia Francica, 
 MS. 
 
 Plusiers parlent de Guenart, 
 Da Lou, de 1,'Asne, de Kenart, 
 De Faeries et de Songes, 
 De phantosmes et de mensongeg. 
 
 The Lay le Frain, enumerating the subjects of 
 the Breton Lays, informs us expressly, 
 
 Many ther beth of faery. 
 
 By some etymologists of that learned class, who 
 not only know whence words come, but also 
 whither they are going, the term Fairy, or 
 Faerie, is derived from Fae, which is again derived 
 from Nympha. It is more probable the term is 
 of oriental origin, and is derived from the Persic, 
 through the medium of the Arabic. In Persic, 
 the term Peri expresses a species of imaginary 
 being which resembles the Fairy in some of its 
 qualities, and is one of the fairest creatures of 
 romantic fancy. This superstition must have 
 been known to the Arabs, among whom the 
 Persian tales, or romances, even as early as the 
 time of Mahomet, were so popular, that it re- 
 quired the most terrible denunciations of that 
 legislator to proscribe them. Now, in the enun- 
 ciation of the Arabs, the term Peri would sound 
 Fairy, the letter p not occurring in the alphabet 
 of that nation ; and, as the chief intercourse of 
 the early crusaders was with the Arabs, or Sara- 
 cens, it is probable they would adopt the term 
 according to their pronunciation. Neither will 
 it be considered as an objection to this opinion, 
 that in Hesychius, the Ionian term Phereas, or 
 Plieres, denotes the satyrs of classical antiquity, 
 
422 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 if the number of words of oriental origin in that 
 lexicographer be recollected. Of the Persian 
 Peris, Ouseley, in his " Persian Miscellanies," 
 has described some characteristic traits, with all 
 the luxuriance of a fancy impregnated with the 
 oriental association of ideas. However vaguely 
 their nature and appearance is described, they 
 are uniformly represented as gentle, amiable 
 females, to whose character beneficence and 
 beauty are essential. None of them are mis- 
 chievous or malignant: none of them are de- 
 formed or diminutive, like the Gothic fair}'. 
 Though they correspond in beauty wifti our ideas 
 of angels, their employments are d issimilar ; and, 
 as they have no place in heaven, their abode is 
 different. Neither do they resemble those intel- 
 ligences, whom, on account of their wisdom, the 
 Platonist3 denominated Damons ; nor do they 
 correspond either to the guardian Genii of the 
 Eomans, or the celestial virgins of paradise, 
 whom the Arabs denominate Houri. But the 
 Peris hover in the balmy clouds, live in the 
 colours of the rainbow, and, as the exquisite 
 purity of their nature rejects all nourishment 
 grosser than the odours of flowers, they subsist 
 by inhaling the fragrance of the jessamine and 
 rose. Though their existence is not commen- 
 surate with the bounds of human life, they are 
 not exempted from the common fate of mortals. 
 — "With the Peris, in Persian mythology, are 
 contrasted the Dives, a race of beings, who differ 
 from them in sex, appearance, and disposition. 
 These are represented as of the male sex, cruel, 
 wicked, and of the most hideous aspect ; or, as 
 they are described by Mr Pinch, " with ugly 
 shapes, long horns, staring eyes, shaggy hair, 
 great fangs, ugly paws, long tails, with such hor- 
 rible difformity and deformity, that I wonder the 
 poor women are not frightened therewith." 
 Though they live very long,their lives are limited, 
 and they are obnoxious to the blows of a human 
 foe. From the malignancy of their nature, they 
 not only wage war with mankind, but persecute 
 the Peris with unremicting ferocity. Such are ■ 
 
 A the brilliant and fanciful colours with which the 
 imaginations of the Persian poets have depicted 
 the charming race of the Peris ; and, if we con- 
 sider the romantic gallantry of the knights of 
 chivalry, and of the crusaders, it will not appear 
 improbable, that their charms might occasionally 
 fascinate the fervid imagination of an amorous 
 troubadour. But, further ; the intercourse of 
 Prance and Italy with the Moors of Spain, and 
 the prevalence of the Arabic, as the language of 
 science in the dark ages, facilitated the introduc- 
 tion of their mythology amongst the nations of 
 the west. Hence, the romances of France, c-f 
 Spain, and of Italy, unite in describing the Fairy 
 as an inferior spirit, in a beautiful female form, 
 possessing many of the amiable qualities of the 
 eastern Peri. Nay, it seems sufficiently clear, 
 that the romancers borrowed from the Arabs, 
 I not merely the general idea concerning those 
 I spiiits,buteven the names of individuals amongst 
 them. The Peri Mergian Banou, (see Herbelot, 
 ap. Peri,) celebrated in the ancient Persian po- 
 etry, figures in the European romances, under 
 the various names of Mourgue La Faye, sister to 
 King Arthur ; Urgande La Deconnue, protectress 
 of Amadis de Gaul ; and the Fata Morgana of 
 Boiardo and Ariosto. The description of these 
 nymphs, by the troubadours and minstrels, is in 
 no respect inferior to those of the Peris, In the 
 tale of Sir Launfal, in Way's Fabliaux, as well 
 as in that of Sir Gruelan, in the same interesting 
 collection, the reader will find the fairy of Nor- 
 mandy, or Bretagne, adorned with all the splen- 
 dour of eastern description. The foiryMelusina, 
 also, who married Guy de Lusignan, count of 
 Poictou, under condition that he should never 
 attempt to intrude upon her privacy, was of this 
 latter class. She bore the count many children, 
 and erected for him a magnificent castle by her 
 magical art. Their harmony was uninterrupted, 
 until the prying husband broke the conditions of 
 their union, by concealing himself, to behold his 
 wife make use of her enchanted bath. Hardly 
 had Melusina discovered the indiscreet intruder, 
 
FAIEY MYTHOLOGY. 
 
 than, transforming herself into a dragon, she 
 departed with a loud yell of lamentation, and 
 was never again visible to mortal eyes ; although, 
 even in the days of Brantome, she was supposed 
 to be the protectress of her descendants, and was 
 heard wailing, as she sailed upon the blast round 
 the turrets of the castle of Lusignan, the night 
 before it was demolished. For the full story, the 
 reader may consult the Bibliotheque des Roynans.* 
 — Gervase of Tilbury (pp. 895 and 989,) assures 
 us, that, in his days, the lovers of the Fadse, or 
 Fairies, were numerous ; and describes the rules 
 of their intercourse with as much accuracy, as if 
 he had himself been engaged in such an affair. 
 Sir David Lindsay also informs us, that a leopard 
 is the proper armorial bearing of those who 
 spring from such intercourse, because that beast 
 is generated by adultery of the pard and lioness. 
 He adds, that Merlin, the prophet, was the first 
 who adopted this cognizance, because he was 
 " borne of faarie in adultre, and right sua the 
 first duk of Guyenne was born of a fee ; and, 
 therefoir, the arms of Guyenne are a leopard." — 
 MS. on Heraldry, Advocates' Library, w. 4. 13. 
 While, however, the Fairy of warmer climes was 
 thus held up as an object of desire and of affec- 
 
 * Upon this, or some similar tradition, was 
 founded the notion, which the inveteracy of 
 national prejudice so easily diffused in Scotland, 
 that the ancestor of the English monarchs, 
 Geoffrey Plantagenet, had actually married a 
 daemon. Bowmaker, in order to explain the 
 cruelty and ambition of Edward I., dedicates a 
 chapter to show " how the kings of England are 
 descended from the devil, by the mother's side." 
 —Fordun, Cnron. lib. 9, cap. 6. The lord of a 
 certain castle, called Espervel, was unfortunate 
 enough to have a wife of the same class. Having 
 observed, for several years, that she always left 
 the chapel before the mass was concluded, the 
 baron, in a fit of obstinacy or curiosity, ordered 
 his guard to detain her by force ; of which the 
 consequence was, that, unable to support the 
 elevation of the host, she retreated through the 
 air, carrying with her one side of the chapel, and 
 several of the congregation. 
 
 423 
 
 ^fttion, those of Britain, and more especially those 
 of Scotland, were far from being so fortunate: 
 but, retaining the unamiable qualities, and di- 
 minutive size of the Gothic elves, they only 
 exchanged that term for the more popular appel- 
 lation of Fairies. 
 
 II. Indeed so singularly unlucky were the 
 British Fairies, that, as has already been hinted, 
 amid the wreck of the Gothic mythology, conse- 
 quent upon the introduction of Christianity, they 
 seem to have preserved, with difficulty, their own 
 distinct characteristics, while, at the same time, 
 they engrossed the mischievous attributes of 
 several other classes of subordinate spirits, ac- 
 I knowledged by the nations of the north. The 
 j abstraction of children, for example, the well* 
 J known practice of the modern Fairy, seems, by 
 j the ancient Gothic nations, to have rather been 
 ascribed to a species of night-mare, or hag, than 
 to the berg-elfin, or duergar. In the ancient 
 j legend of St Margaret, of which there is a Saxo- 
 | Norman copy in Hickes' Thesaurus Linguar. 
 Septen. and one, more modern, in the Auchinleck 
 AISS., that lady encounters a fiend, whose pro- 
 fession it was, among other malicious tricks, to 
 injure new-born children and their mothers ; a 
 ; practice afterwards imputed to the Fairies. Ger- 
 vase of Tilbury, in the Otia Imperialia, mentions 
 certain hags, or Lamia, who entered into houses 
 in the night-time, to oppress the inhabitants, 
 \ while asleep, injure their persons and property, 
 and carry off their children. He likewise men- 
 I tions the Dracce, a sort of water spirits, who in- 
 veigle women and children into the recesses 
 ■ which they inhabit, beneath lakes and rivers, by 
 floating past them, on the surface of the water, 
 in the shape of gold rings, or cups. The women, 
 thus seized, are employed as nurses, and, after 
 seven years, are permitted to revisit earth. Ger- 
 vase mentions one woman, in particular, who 
 | had been allured by observing a wooden dish, or 
 cup, float by her, while washing clothes in a river. 
 Being seized as soon as she reached the depths, 
 £ she was conducted into one of these subterranean 
 
424 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 recesses, which she described as very magnificent, '. 
 and employed as nurse to one of the brood of the 
 hag who had allured her. During her residence 
 in this capacity, having accidentally touched one 
 of her eyes with an ointment of serpent's grease, 
 she perceived, at her return to the world, that 
 she had acquired the faculty of seeing the draco:, 
 when they intermingle themselves with men. 
 Of this power she was, however, deprived by the 
 touch of her ghostly mistress, whom she had one 
 day incautiously addressed. It is a curious fact, 
 that this story, in almost all its parts, is current 
 in both the Highlands and Lowlands of Scotland, 
 with no other variation than the substitution of 
 Fairies for dracce, and the cavern of a hill for that 
 of a river. * These water fiends are thus charac- 
 terized by Heywood, in the Hierarchic — 
 
 " Spirits, that have o'er water gouvernement, 
 Are to mankind alike malevoleut; 
 They trouble seas, floods, rivers, brookes, and wels, 
 Meres, lakes, and love to enhabit watry cells; 
 Hence noisome and pestiferous vapours raise; 
 Besides, they men encounter divers ways. 
 
 * Indeed, many of the vulgar account it ex- 
 tremely dangerous to touch any thing, which 
 they may happen to find, without saining (bless- 
 ing) it, the snares of the enemy being notorious 
 and well attested. A poor woman of Tiviotdale, 
 having been fortunate enough, as she thought 
 herself, to find a wooden beetle, at the very time 
 when she needed such an implement, seized it 
 without pronouncing the proper blessing, and, 
 carrying it home, laid it above her bed, to be 
 ready for employment in the morning. At mid- 
 night, the window of her cottage opened, and a 
 loud voice was heard, calling upon some one 
 within, by a strange and uncouth name, which I 
 have forgotten. The terrified cottager ejaculated 
 a prayer, which, we may suppose, insured her 
 personal safety ; while the enchanted implement 
 of housewifery, tumbling from the bedstead, de- 
 parted by the window with no small noise and 
 precipitation. In a humorous fugitive tract, 
 the late Dr Johnson is introduced as disputing 
 the authenticity of an apparition, merely because 
 the spirit assumed the shape of a tea-pot, and of 
 a shoulder of mutton. No doubt, a case so much 
 in point, as that we have now quoted, would 
 have removed his incredulity. 
 
 At wreckes some present are ; another sort, 
 
 Ready to cramp their joints that swiui for sport: 
 
 One kind of these, the Italians fatae name, 
 
 Fee the French, we sybils, and the same; 
 
 Others white nymphs, and those that have them seen. 
 
 Night ladies some, of which Habundia queen. 
 
 Hierarchie of the Blessed Angels, p. 507. 
 
 The following Frisian superstition, related by 
 Schott, in his " Physica Curiosa," p 362, on the 
 authority of Cornelius a Kempen, coincides more 
 accurately with the popular opinions concerning 
 the Fairies, than even the dracx of Gervase, or 
 the water-spirits of Thomas Heywood.—" In the 
 time of the emperor Lotharius, in 830," says he, 
 " many spectres infested Friesland, particularly 
 the white nymphs of the ancients, which the mo- 
 derns denominate witte wiven, who inhabited a 
 subterraneous cavern, formed in a wonderful 
 manner, without human art, on the top of a lofty 
 mountain. These were accustomed to surprise 
 benighted travellers, shepherds watching their 
 herds and flocks, and women newly delivered, 
 with their children ; and convey them into their 
 caverns, from which subterranean murmurs, the 
 cries of children, the groans and lamentations of 
 men, and sometimes imperfect words, and all 
 kinds of musical sounds, were heard to proceed." 
 The same superstition is detailed by Bekker, in hui 
 "World Bewitch'd,:' p. 196, of the English 
 translation. As the different classes of spirits 
 were gradually confounded, the abstraction of 
 children seems to have been chiefly ascribed to 
 the elves, or Fairies ; yet not so entirely as to ex- 
 clude hags and witches from the occasional exer- 
 tion of their ancient privilege. In Germany, the 
 same confusion of classes has not taken place. 
 In the beautiful ballads of the "Erl King," the 
 " Water King," and the " Mer-Maid," we still 
 recognize the ancient traditions of the Goths, 
 concerning the rvald-elven, and the dracce. 
 
 A similar superstition, concerning abstraction 
 by daemons, seems, in the time of Gervase of Til- 
 bury, to have pervaded the greatest part of Eu- 
 rope. " In Catalonia," says the author, " there 
 is a lofty mountain, named Cavagum, at the foot 
 of which runs a river with golden sands, in the 
 
FA1KT MYTHOLOGY. 
 
 425 
 
 vicinity of which there are likewise mines of sil- 
 ver. This mountain is steep, and almost inac- 
 cessible. On its top, which is always covered 
 with ice and snow, is a black and bottomless lake, 
 into which if a stone be thrown, a tempest sud- 
 denly rises : and near this lake, though invisible 
 to men, is the porch of the palace of daemons. 
 In a town adjacent to this mountain, named 
 Junchera, lived one Peter de Cabinam. " Being 
 one day teazed with the fretfulness of his young 
 daughter, he, in his impatience, suddenly wished 
 that the devil might take her; when she was 
 immediately borne away by the spirits. About 
 seven years afterwards, an inhabitant of the same 
 city, passing by the mountain, met a man, who 
 complained bitterly of the burthen he was con- 
 stantly forced to bear. Upon inquiring the cause 
 of his complaining, as he did not seem to carry 
 any load, the man related, that he had been un- 
 warily devoted to the spirits by an execration, 
 and that they now employed him constantly as a 
 vehicle of burthen. As a proof of his assertion, 
 he added, that the daughter of his fellow-citizen 
 was detained by the spirits, but that they were 
 willing to restore her, if her father would come 
 and demand her on the mountain. Peter de 
 Cabinam, on being informed of this, ascended 
 the mountain to the lake, and, in the name of 
 God, demanded his daughter ; when a tall, thin, 
 withered figure, with wandering eyes, and almost 
 bereft of understanding, was wafted to him in a 
 blast of wind. After some time, the person, who 
 had been employed as the vehicle of the spirits, 
 also returned, when he related where the palace 
 of the spirits was situated ; but added, that none 
 were permitted to enter but those who devoted 
 themselves entirely to the spirits; those, who 
 had been rashly committed to the devil by others, 
 being only permitted, during their probation, to 
 enter the porch." It may be proper to observe, 
 that the superstitious idea, concerning the lake 
 on the top of the mountain, is common to almost 
 every high hill in Scotland. "Wells, or pits, on 
 the top of high hills, were likewise supposed to 
 
 3: lead to the subterranean habitations of the 
 Fairies. Thus Gervase relates, (p. 975,) "that 
 ! he was informed the swine-herd of "William 
 J Peverell, an English baron, having lost a brood- 
 sow, descended through a deep abyss, in the mid- 
 dle of an ancient ruinous castle, situated on the 
 top of a hill, called Bech, in search of it. Though 
 a violent wind commonly issued from this pit, he 
 i found it calm ; and pursued his way, till he 
 arrived at a subterraneous region, pleasant and 
 j cultivated, with reapers cutting down corn, 
 ! though the snow remained on the surface of the 
 ground above. Among the ears of corn he dis- 
 I covered his sow, and was permitted to ascend 
 ) with her, and the pigs which she had farrowed." 
 ; Though the author seems to think that the inha- 
 i bitants of this cave might be antipodes, yet, as 
 j many such stories are related of the Fairies, it is 
 ! probable that this narration is of the same kind. 
 r Of a similar nature seems to be another supersti- 
 ! tion, mentioned by the same author, concerning 
 j the ringing of invisible bells, at the hour of one, 
 | in a field in the vicinity of Carleol, which, as he 
 i relates, was denominated Laikibraine, or Lai ki 
 ! brait. From all these tales, we may perhaps be 
 justified in supposing, that the faculties and 
 l habits ascribed to the Fairies, by the superstition 
 I of latter days, comprehend several, originally 
 i attributed to other classes of inferior spirits. 
 I III. The notions, arising from the spirit of 
 1 chivalry, combined to add to the Fairies certain 
 '. qualities, less atrocious indeed, but equally for- 
 midable, with those which they derived from the 
 1 1 last-mentioned source, and alike inconsistent 
 1 with the powers of the duergar, whom we may 
 I term their primitive prototype. From an early 
 | period, the daring temper of the northern tribes 
 urged them to defy even the supernatural powers. 
 In the days of Caesar, the Suevi were described, 
 by their countrymen, as a people with whom the 
 immortal gods dared not venture to contend. 
 At a later period, the historians of Scandinavia 
 ! paint their heroes and champions, not as bend- 
 cg ing at the altar of their deities, but wandering 
 
426 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 Into remote forests and caverns, descending into 
 the recesses of the tomb, and extorting boons, 
 alike from gods and daemons, by dint of the 
 sword and battle-axe. I will not detain the 
 reader by quoting instances in which heaven is 
 thus described as having been literally attempted 
 by storm. He may consult Saxo, Olaus Worm- 
 ius, Olaus Magnus, Toifteus, Bartholin, and 
 other northern antiquaries. With such ideas of 
 superior beings, the Normans, Saxons, and other 
 Gothic tribes, brought their ardent courage to 
 ferment yet more highly in the genial climes of 
 the south, and under the blaze of romantic 
 chivalry. Hence, during the dark ages, the in- 
 visible world was modelled after the material ; 
 and the saints, to the protection of whom the 
 knights-errant were accustomed to recommend 
 themselves, were accoutred like preux chevaliers, 
 by the ardent imaginations of their votaries. 
 With such ideas concerning the inhabitants of 
 the celestial regions, we ought not to be surprised 
 to find the inferior spirits, of a more dubious 
 nature and origin, equipped in thesame disguise. 
 Gervase of Tilbury (Otia Imperial, ap. Script, 
 rer. Brunsvic, vol. i. p. 797,) relates the following 
 popular story concerning a Fairy Knight. " Os- 
 bert, a bold and powerful baron, visited a noble 
 family in the vicinity of Wandelbury, in the 
 bishopric of Ely. Among other stories related 
 in the social circle of his friends, who, according 
 to custom, amused each other by repeating an- 
 cient tales and traditions, he was informed, that 
 if any knight, unattended, entered an adjacent 
 plain by moon -light, and challenged an adversary 
 to appear, he would be immediately encountered 
 by a spirit in the form of a knight. Osbert re- 
 solved to make the experiment, and set out, 
 attended by a single squire, whom he ordered to 
 remain without the limits of the plain, which 
 was surrounded by an ancient entrenchment. 
 On repeating the challenge, he was instantly 
 assailed by an adversary, whom he quickly un- 
 horsed, and seized the reins of his steed. During 
 this operation, his ghostly opponent sprung up, f 
 
 and, darting his spear, like a javelin, at Osbert, 
 wounded him in the thigh. Osbert returned in 
 triumph with the horse, which he committed to 
 the care of his servants. The horse was of a sable 
 colour, as well as his whole accoutrements, and 
 apparently of great beauty and vigour. He re- 
 mained with his keeper till cock-crowing, when, 
 with eyes flashing fire, he reared, spurned the 
 ground, and vanished. On disarming himself. 
 Osbert perceived that he was wounded, and that 
 one of his steel boots was full of blood. Gervase 
 adds, that as long as he lived, the scar of his 
 wound opened afresh on the anniversary of the 
 eve on which he encountered the spirit." * Less 
 fortunate was the gallant Bohemian knight, who, 
 travelling by night with a single companion, 
 came in sight of a fairy host, arrayed under dis- 
 played banners. Despising the remonstrances of 
 his friend, the knight pricked forward to break 
 a lance with a champion who advanced from the 
 ranks, apparently in defiance. His companion 
 beheld the Bohemian overthrown, horse and 
 man, by his aerial adversary ; and, returning to 
 the spot next morning, he found the mangled 
 corpse of the knight and steed.— Bierarchie of 
 Blessed Angels, p. 554. 
 
 To the same current of warlike ideas, we may 
 safely attribute the long train of military pro- 
 
 * The unfortunate Chatterton was not, proba- 
 bly, acquainted with Gervase of Tilbury; yet he 
 seems to allude, in the " Battle of Hastings," to 
 some modification of Sir Osbert's adventure : — 
 
 So who they be that ouphant fairies strike, 
 Their souls shall wander to king Offa's dike. 
 
 The entrenchment, which served as lists for the 
 combatants, is said by Gervase to have been the 
 work of the Pagan invaders of Britain. In the 
 metrical romance of " Arthour and Merlin," we 
 have also an account of Wandlesbury being occu- 
 pied by the Sarasins, i. e. the Saxons; for all 
 pagans were Saracens with the romancers. I 
 presume the place to have been Wodnesbury, in 
 Wiltshire, situated on the remarkable mound, 
 called Wandsdike, which is obviously a Saxon 
 work. — Gough's Camden's Britannia, pp. 87 — 95. 
 
FAIRT ilTTHOLOGY. 
 
 427 
 
 cessions which the Fairies are supposed occasion- 
 ally to exhibit. The elves, indeed, seem in this 
 point to be identified with the aerial host, 
 termed, during the middle ages, the Millies Her- 
 likini, or Herleurini, celebrated by Pet. Blesensis, 
 and termed, in the life of St Thomas of Canter- 
 bury, the Familia Helliquinii. The chief of this 
 band was originally a gallant knight and warrior; 
 but, having spent his whole possessions in the 
 service of the emperor, and being rewarded with 
 scorn, and abandoned to subordinate oppression, 
 he became desperate, and, with his sons and fol- 
 lowers, formed a baud of robbers. After com- 
 mitting many ravages, and defeating all the 
 forces sent against him, Hellequin, with his whole 
 troop, fell in a bloody engagement with the Im- 
 perial host. His former good life was supposed 
 to save him from utter reprobation ; but he and 
 his followers were condemned after death, to a 
 state of wandering, which should endure till the 
 last day. Retaining their military habits, they 
 were usually seen in the act of justing together, 
 or in similar warlike employments. See the 
 ancient French Romance of Richard sans Peur. 
 Similar to this was the Xacht Lager, or midnight 
 camp, which seemed nightly to beleaguer the 
 walls of Prague, 
 
 "With ghastly faces thronged, and fiery arms," 
 but which disappeared upon recitation of the 
 magical words, Vezele, Vezele, ho! ho! ho! — For 
 similar delusions, see Delrius, pp. 294, 295. 
 
 The martial spirit of our ancestors led them to 
 defy these aerial warriors ; and it is still currently 
 believed, that he who has courage to rush upon 
 a fairy festival, and snatch from them their 
 drinking cup, or horn, shall find it prove to him 
 a cornucopia of good c ortune, if he can bear it in 
 safety across a running stream. Such a horn is 
 said to have been presented to Henry I., by a lord 
 of Colchester.— Gervas. Tilb. p. 9S0. A goblet is 
 still carefully preserved in Edenhall, Cumberland, 
 which is supposed to have been seized at a ban- 
 quet of the elves, by one of the ancient family of 
 
 Musgrave ; or, as others say, by one of their 
 domestics, in the manner above described. Tha 
 Fairy train vanished, crying aloud, 
 
 The goblet took a name from the prophecy, 
 under which it is mentioned in the burlesque 
 ballad, commonly attributed to the duke of 
 "Wharton, but in reality composed by Lloyd, one 
 of his jovial companions. The duke, after taking 
 a draught, had nearly terminated the "luck of 
 Edenhall," had not the butler caught the cup in 
 a napkin, as it dropped from his grace's hands. 
 I understand it is not now subjected to such 
 risques, but the lees of wine are still apparent at 
 the bottom. 
 
 God prosper Ion? from being broke, 
 The luck of Edenhall.— Parody on Chevy Chace. 
 
 Some faint traces yet remain, on the borders, 
 of a conflict of a mysterious and terrible nature, 
 between mortals and the spirits of the wilds. 
 The superstition is incidentally alluded to by 
 Jackson, at the beginning of the 17th century. 
 The fern seed, which is supposed to become visi- 
 ble only on St John's Eve, * and at the very 
 moment when the Baptist was born, is held by 
 the vulgar to be under the special protection of 
 the queen of Faery. But, as the seed was sup- 
 posed to have the quality of rendering the pos- 
 
 • Ne'er oe I found by thee unavred, 
 On that thr ce hallowed eve abroad. 
 "When goblins haunt, from fire and fen, 
 And wood and lake, the steps of men. 
 
 Collins's OAe to Fear. 
 
 The whole history of ?t John the Baptist was, 
 by our ancestors, accounted mysterious, and con- 
 nected with their own superstitions. The fairy 
 queen was sometimes identified with Herodias. 
 — Delrii Disquisitiones Magica, pp. 163, S07. It 
 is amusing to observe vith what gravity the 
 learned Jesuit contends, that it is heresy to be- 
 lieve that this celebrated figurante (saltatricuta) 
 still leads choral dances upon earth 1 
 
428 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 sessor invisible at pleasure, * and to be also of 
 sovereign use in charms and incantations, persons 
 of courage, addicted to these mysterious arts, 
 were wont to watch in solitude, to gather it at 
 the moment when it should become visible. The 
 particular charms, by which they fenced them- 
 selves during this vigil, are now unknown ; but 
 it was reckoned a feat of no small danger, as the 
 person undertaking it was exposed to the most 
 dreadful assaults from spirits, who dreaded the 
 effect of this powerful herb in the hands of a 
 cabalist. " Much discourse," says Richard Bovet, 
 "hath been about gathering of fern-seed, (which 
 is looked upon as a magical herb) on the night of 
 Midsummer-eve ; and I remember I was told of 
 one who went to gather it, and the spirits whisk't 
 by his ears like bullets, and sometimes struck his 
 hat, and other parts of his body : in fine, though 
 he apprehended he had gotten a quantity of it, 
 and secured it in papers, and a box besides, when 
 he came home he found all empty. But, most 
 probable, this appointing of times and hours is of 
 the devil's own institution, as well as the fast, 
 that, having once ensnared people to an obedience 
 to his rules, he may with more facility oblige 
 them to a stricter vassalage." — Pandosmonium, 
 Lond. 16S4, p. 217. Such were the shades, which 
 the original superstition, concerning the Fairies, 
 received from the chivalrous sentiments of the 
 middle ages. 
 
 IT. An absurd belief in the fables of classical 
 antiquity lent an additional feature to the char- 
 acter of the woodland spirits of whom we treat. 
 Greece and Rome had not only assigned tutelary 
 deities to each province and city, but had peopled, 
 with peculiar spirits, the seas, the rivers, the 
 woods, and the mountains. The memory of the 
 pagan creed was not speedily eradicated, in the 
 extensive provinces through which it was once 
 
 * This is alluded to by Shakespeare, and other 
 authors of his time : — 
 
 'We have the receipt of fern-seed: we walk invisible." 
 Hent;' IV. Part 1st, Act 2d, Sc. 3. 
 
 & universally received ; and, in many particulars, 
 I it continued long to mingle with, and influence, 
 the original superstitions of the Gothic nations. 
 Hence, we find the elves occasionally arrayed in 
 the costume of Greece and Rome, and the Fairy 
 Queen and her attendants transformed into Diana 
 and her nymphs, and invested with their attri- 
 butes and appropriate insignia.— Delrius, pp. 168, 
 807. According to the same author, the Fairy 
 Queen was also called Habundia. Like Diana, 
 who, in one capacity, was denominated Hecate, 
 the goddess of enchantment, the Fairy Queen is 
 identified, in popular tradition, with the Gyre- 
 Carline, Gay-Carline, or mother witch, of the 
 Scottish peasantry. Of this personage, as an in- 
 dividual, we have but few notices. She is some- 
 times termed Nicneven, and is mentioned in the 
 Complaynt of Scotland, by Lindsay in his Dreme, 
 p. 225, edit. 1590, and in his Interludes, apud 
 Pinkerton's Scottish Poems, vol. ii. p. 18. But the 
 traditionary accounts regarding her are too ob- 
 scure to admit of explanation. In the burlesque 
 fragment subjoined, which is copied from the 
 Bannatyne MS., the Gyre Carline is termed the 
 Queen of Jorvis (Jovis, or perhaps Jews,) and is, 
 with great consistency, married to Mohammed, f 
 But chiefly in Italy were traced many dim 
 
 f Tn Tyberius tyme, the trew imperatour, 
 
 Quhen Tynto hills £ra skraiping of toun-henis was 
 
 keipit, 
 Thair dwelt ane grit Gyre Carling in awld Betokis 
 
 bour, 
 That levit upoun Christiaue menis flesche, and 
 
 rewheids unleipit ; 
 Thair wynit ane hir by, on the west syde, callit 
 
 Blasour, 
 Tor luve of hir lauchaue lippis, he walit and he 
 
 weipit; 
 He gaddeiit ane menzie of modwartis to warp doun 
 
 the tour : 
 The Carling with ane yren club, quhen yat Blasour 
 sleipit, 
 Behind the heil scho hat him sic ane blaw, 
 Quhil Blasour bled ane quart 
 Off milk pottage inwart, 
 The Carling luche, and lut a fart 
 North Berwik Law. 
 
 The king of fary than come, with elfis many ane, 
 And sett ane seke, and ane salt, with grit pensalhg 
 
 of pry d; 
 And all the doggis fra Dunbar was thair to Dumblane, 
 With all the ty kis of Tervey, come to thame that ty d ; 
 
FAIRY MYTHOLOGY. 
 
 429 
 
 characters of ancient mythology, in the creed of . 
 tradition. Thus, so lately as 1536, Vulcan, with 
 twenty of his Cyclops, is stated to have presented 
 himself suddenly to a Spanish merchant, travel- 
 ling in the night, through the forests of Sicily ; 
 an apparition, which was followed by a dreadful 
 eruption of Mount JEtna. — Hierarchie of Blessed 
 Angels, p. 504. Of this singular mixture, the 
 reader will find a curious specimen in the follow- | 
 ing tale, wherein the Yenus of antiquity assumes 
 the manners of one of the Fays, or Fatse, of ro- 
 mance. "In the year 1058, a young man of 
 noble birth had been married at Rome, and, 
 during the period of the nuptial feast, having 
 gone with his companions to play at ball, he put 
 his marriage ring on the finger of a broken statue 
 of Yenus in the area, to remain, while he was 
 engaged in the recreation. Desisting from the 
 exercise, he found the finger, on which he had 
 put his ring, contracted firmly against the palm, 
 and attempted in vain either to break it, or to 
 disengage his ring. He concealed the circum- 
 stance from his companions, and returned at 
 night with a servant, when he found the finger 
 extended, and his ring gone. He dissembled the 
 loss, and returned to his wife ; but, whenever he 
 attempted to embrace her, he found himself pre- 
 vented by something dark and dense, which was 
 
 Thay quelle doune with thair gonnes mony grit stane, 
 The Carling schup her on ane sow, and is her gaitis 
 
 gane, 
 Grunting our the Greik sie, and durst na langer byd, 
 Tor bruklyng of bargane, and breiking of browis : 
 The Carting now for dispyte 
 Is mareit with Mahomyte, 
 And will the doggis interdyte, 
 
 For scho is queue of Jowis. 
 
 Sensyne the cockis of Crawmound crew nevir at day, 
 For dule of that devillisch deme wes with Mahoun 
 
 And the henis of Hadingtoun sensyne wald not '<ay, 
 For this wild wibroun with thame widler sa and 
 
 And the same North Berwik Law, as I heir wyyis say, 
 I his Carting, with a fals cast, wald away careitj 
 For to luck on quha sa lykis, na langer scho tareit; 
 All this languor for love before tymes fell, 
 Lang or Betok was born, 
 Scho bred of ane accorne ; 
 The laif of the story to morne, 
 To you I sail telle. 
 
 tangible, though not visible, interposing between 
 them : and he heard a voice saying, ' Embrace 
 me ! for I am Yenus, whom this day you wedded, 
 and I will not restore your ring.' As this was 
 constantly repeated, he consulted his relations, 
 who had recourse to Palumbus, a priest, skilled 
 in necromancy. He directed the young man to 
 go, at a certain hour of night, to a spot among 
 the ruins of ancient Rome, where four roads met, 
 and wait silently till he saw a company pass by, 
 and then, without uttering a word, to deliver a 
 letter, which he gave him, to a majestic being, 
 who rode in a chariot, after the rest of the com- 
 pany. The young man did as he was directed ; 
 and saw a company of all ages, sexes, and ranks, 
 on horse and on foot, some joyful and others sad, 
 pass along; among whom he distinguished a 
 woman in a meretricious dress, who, from the 
 tenuity of her garments, seemed almost naked. 
 She rode on a mule ; her long hair, which flowed 
 over her shoulders, was bound with a golden fil- 
 let ; and in her hand was a golden rod, with which 
 she directed her mule. In the close of the pro- 
 cession, a tall majestic figure appeared in a 
 chariot, adorned with emeralds and pearls, who 
 fiercely asked the young man, ' What he did 
 there ?' He presented the letter in silence, which 
 the dsemon dared not refuse. As soon as he had 
 read, lifting up his hands to heaven, he exclaimed, 
 ' Almighty God ! how long wilt thou endure the 
 iniquities of the sorcerer Palumbus !' and imme- 
 diately dispatched some of his attendants, who, 
 with much difficulty, extorted the ring from 
 Yenus, and restored it to its owner, whose infernal 
 banns were thus dissolved." — Forduni Scotich roni- 
 con, vol. i. p. 407, cura Goodall. 
 
 But it is rather in the classical character of an 
 infernal deity, that the elfin queen may be consi- 
 dered, than as Hecate, the patroness of magic ; 
 for not only in the romance writers, but even in 
 Chaucer, are the fairies identified with the an- 
 cient inhabitants of the classical hell. Thus 
 Chaucer, in his " Marchand's Tale," mentions 
 
 Pluto that is king of fayrie— and 
 
 Proserpine and all her fayrie. 
 
430 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 In the " Golden Terge" of Dunbar, the same & 
 phraseology is adopted : Thus, 
 
 Thair was Pluto that elricke incubus 
 
 In cloke of grene, his court usit in sable. 
 
 Even so late as 1602, in Harsenet's " Declara- 
 tion of Popish Imposture," p. 57, Mercury is 
 called Prince qfthe Fairies. 
 
 But Chaucer, and those poets who have adopted 
 his phraseology, have only followed the romance 
 writers; for the same substitution occurs in the 
 romance of " Orfeo and Heurodis," in which the 
 story of Orpheus and Eurydice is transformed 
 into a beautiful romantic tale of faery, and the 
 Gothic mythology engrafted on the fables of 
 Greece. Heurodis is represented as wife of Orfeo, 
 and queen of "Winchester, the ancient name of 
 which city the romancer, with unparalleled in- 
 genuity, discovers to have been Traciens, or 
 Thrace. The monarch, her husband, had a sin- 
 gular genealogy :— 
 
 His fader was comen'of king Pluto, 
 And his moder of king Juno; 
 That sum time were as godes y-holde, 
 For aventours that thai dede and tolde. 
 
 Reposing, unwarily, at noon, under the shade of 
 an ymp tree,* Heurodis dreams that 6he is 
 accosted by the king of Fairies, 
 
 With an hundred knights and mo, 
 And damsels an hundred also, 
 Al on snowe white stedes ; 
 As white as milk were her wedes; 
 T no seigh never yete bifore, 
 
 The kiuge hadde a croun on hede, 
 It nas of tilver, no of golde red, 
 Ac it was of a precious ston : 
 As bright as the sonne it schon. 
 
 The king of Fairies, who had obtained power 
 over the queen, perhaps from her sleeping at 
 noon in his domain, orders her, under the penalty 
 
 * Ymp tree. — According to the general accep- 
 tation, this only signifies a grafted tree ; whether 
 it should be here understood to mean a tree con- 
 secrated to the imps, or fairies, is left with the 
 reader. 
 
 of being torn to pieces, to await him to-morrow 
 under the ymp tree, and accompany him to 
 Fairy-Land. She relates her dream to her hus- 
 band, who resolves to accompany her. and at- 
 tempt her rescue : 
 
 A morwe the under tide is come. 
 
 And Orfeo hath his armes y-nome, 
 
 And wele ten hundred knights with him, 
 
 Ich y-armed stout and grim ; 
 
 And with the quen wenten he, 
 
 Right upon that ympe tre. 
 
 Thai made scheltrom in iche aside, 
 
 And sayd thai wold there abide, 
 
 And dye ther everichon, 
 
 Er the quen schuld fram hem gon : 
 
 Ac yete amiddes hem ful right, 
 
 The quen was oway y-twight, 
 
 With Fairi forth y-nome, 
 
 Men wizt never wher 6che was become. 
 
 After this fatal catastrophe, Orfeo, distracted 
 for the loss of his queen, abandons his throne, 
 and, with his harp, retires into a wilderness, 
 where he subjects himself to every kind of aus- 
 terity, and attracts the wild beasts by the pathetic 
 melody of his harp. His state of desolation is 
 poetically described ; — 
 
 He that werd the fowe and griis, 
 
 Aud on bed the purpur biis, 
 
 Now on the hard hethe he lith, 
 
 With leves and gresse he him writh : 
 
 He that had castells and tours, 
 
 Rivers, forests, frith with flowers, 
 
 Now thei it commence to snewe and freze, 
 
 This king mot make his bed in mese : 
 
 He that had y-had knightes of priis, 
 
 Bifore him kneland and leuedis, 
 
 Now seth he no thing that him liketh, 
 
 Bot wild wormes bi him striketh: 
 
 He that had y-had plente 
 
 Of mete and drink, of iche deynte, 
 
 Now may he al dave disrge and wrote, 
 
 Er he find his fille of rote. 
 
 In somer he liveth bi wilde fruit, 
 
 And verien bot gode lite. 
 
 In wintei may he no thing find, 
 
 Bot rotes, grases, and the rinde. 
 
 His here of his berd blac and rowe, 
 
 To his girdel stede was growe ; 
 
 His harp, whereon was al his gle, 
 
 He hidde in ane holwe tre : 
 
 And, when the weder was clere and bright. 
 
 He toke his harp to him wel light. 
 
 And harped at his owen will, 
 
 Into al the wode the soun gan shill, 
 
 That al the wild bestes that ther betb. 
 
 For joie abouten him thai teth; 
 
 And al the foules that ther wer, 
 
 Come and sete on ich a brere, 
 
 To here his harping a fine, 
 
 So miche melody was therein. 
 
FAIRY MYTHOLOGY. 
 
 431 
 
 At last he discovers, that he is not the sole in- 
 habitant of this desart ; for 
 
 He might se him besides 
 
 Oft in hot undertides, 
 
 The king of Fairi, with his route, 
 
 Come to hunt him al about, 
 
 With dim cri and bloweing, 
 
 And houndes also with him berking; 
 
 Ac no best thai no nome, 
 
 No never he nist whider thai bi come. 
 
 And other while he might hem se 
 
 As a gret ost bi him te, 
 
 ■Well atourned ten hundred knightes, 
 
 Ich y-armed to his rightes, 
 
 Of cuntenance stout and fers, 
 
 With mani desplaid baners; 
 
 And ich his sword y-drawe hold, 
 
 Ac never he nist whider thai wold. 
 
 And otherwhile he seighe other thing; 
 
 Knightis and leuedis com daunceing, 
 
 In queynt attire gisely, 
 
 Queyete pas and softlie: 
 
 Tabours and trumpes gede hem bi, 
 
 And al maner menstraci. — 
 
 And on a day he seighe him biside, 
 
 Sexti leuedis on hors ride, 
 
 Gentil and jolif as brid on ris; 
 
 Nought o man amonges hem ther nisj 
 
 And ich a faucoun on hond bere, 
 
 And riden on hauken bi o river 
 
 Of game thai found wel gode haunt, 
 
 Maulardes, hayroun, and cormoraunt 
 
 The foules of the water ariseth, 
 
 Ich faucoun hem wele deviseth, 
 
 Ich faucoun his pray slouch, 
 
 That seize Orfeo and lough. 
 
 " Par fay," quoth he, *' there is fair game, 
 
 Hider Ichil bi Godes name, 
 
 Ich was y won swich work to se:" 
 
 He aros, and thider gan te; 
 
 To a leuedi hi was y-come, 
 
 Bihelde, and hath wel under nome, 
 
 And seth, bi al thing, that i> 
 
 His owen queu, dam Heurodis; 
 
 Gem hi biheld her, and sche him eke, 
 
 Ac nouther to other a word no speke: 
 
 For messais that sche on him seighe, 
 
 That had ben so riche and so heighe, 
 
 The teres fel out of her eighe; 
 
 The other leuedis this y-seighe, 
 
 And maked hir oway to ride, 
 
 Sche most with him no longer obide. 
 
 " Alias !" quoth he, " nowe is mi woe, 
 
 Whi nil deth now me slo ! 
 
 Alias ! too long last mi liif, 
 
 When y no dare nought with mi wif, 
 
 Nor hye to me o word speke; 
 
 Alias whi nil iniin hert breke ! 
 
 Par fay," quoth he, " tide what betide, 
 
 Whide'r to this leuedis ride, 
 
 The selve way Ichil streche; 
 
 Of liif, no dethe, me no reche." 
 
 In consequence, therefore, of this discovery, 
 Orfeo pursues the hawking damsels, among 
 ■whom he has descried his lost queen. They enter I 
 a rock, the king continues the pursuit, and arrives ffi 
 
 at Fairy-land, of ■which the following very poeti 
 cal description is given :— 
 
 In at a roche the leuedis rideth, 
 
 ADd he after and nought abidcth; 
 
 When he was in the roche y-go, 
 
 Wele thre mile other mo, 
 
 He com into a fair cuntray, 
 
 As bright soonue somers day, 
 
 Smothe and plain and al grene, 
 
 Hill no dale nas none ysene. 
 
 Amiddle the lond a castel he seighe, 
 
 Rich and reale and wonder heighe; 
 
 Al the utmast wal 
 
 Was cler and schine of cristal; 
 
 An hundred tours ther were about, 
 
 Degiselich and bataild stout; 
 
 The butrass come out of the diche, 
 
 Of rede gold y-arched riche; 
 
 The bousour was anowed al, 
 
 Of ich maner deuers animal; 
 
 Within ther wer wide wones 
 
 Al of precious stones, 
 
 The werss piler onto biholde, 
 
 Wasalofburnistgold: 
 
 Al that lond was ever light, 
 
 For when it schuld be therk and night, 
 
 The riche stonnes light gonne, 
 
 Bright as doth at nonne"the Sonne: 
 
 No man may tel, no thenke in thought, 
 
 The riche werk that ther was rought. 
 
 Than he gan biholde about al, 
 And seighe ful liggeand with in the wal. 
 Of folk that wer thidder y-brought, 
 And thought dede and nere nought; 
 Sum stode with outen hadde ; 
 And some none armes nade; 
 And sum thurch the bodi hadde wounde; 
 And sum lay wode y-bounde ; 
 And sum armed on hors sete; 
 And sum astrangled as thai ete; 
 And sum war in water adreynt ; 
 And sum with fire all for schreynt; 
 Wives ther lay on childe bedde; 
 Sum dede, and sum awedde; 
 And wonder fele ther lay besides, 
 Right as thai slepe her undertides; 
 Fche was thus in this waild y-nome, 
 With fairi thider y-come.' 
 There he seize his owhen wiif, 
 Dame Heurodis, his liif liif, 
 Slepe under an ympe tree: 
 Bi her clothes he knewe that it was lie. 
 
 And when he had bihold this mervalis alle, 
 He went into the kinges halle; 
 Then seigh he there a semly sight, 
 A tabernacle blisset'ul and bright; 
 Ther in her maister king sete, 
 And her quen fair and swete; 
 Her crounes, her clothes schine so bright, 
 That unuethe bihold he hem might. 
 
 Orfeo and Heurodis, MS. 
 
 • It wns perhaps from such a description that Ariosto 
 adopted his idea of the Lunar Paradise, coutainir 
 thing that on earth was stolen or lost. 
 
 ; every 
 
432 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 Orfeo, as a minstrel, so charms the Fairy King 
 with the music of his harp, that he promises to 
 grant him whatever he should ask. He imme- 
 diately demands his lost Heurodis; and, return- 
 ing safely with her to Winchester, resumes his 
 authority ; a catastrophe, less pathetic indeed, 
 but more pleasing, than that of the classical 
 story. The circumstances, mentioned in this 
 romantic legend, correspond very exactly with 
 popular tradition. Almost all the writers on 
 daemonology mention, as a received opinion, that 
 the power of the daemons is most predominant at 
 noon and midnight. The entrance to the Land 
 of Faery is placed in the wilderness; a circum- 
 stance which coincides with a passage in Lindsay's 
 " Complaint of the Papingo :" — 
 
 Bot sen my spreit inon from my bodye go, 
 I recommend it to the quene of Faiy, 
 Eternally into her court to tarry 
 In wilderness amang the holtis hair. 
 
 Lindsay's Works, 1592, p. 222. 
 
 Chaucer also agrees, in this particular, with 
 our romancer : — 
 
 In his sadel he clombe anon, 
 And prikedover stile and ston. 
 
 An e f quene for to e-pie ; 
 Til he so long had riden and gone 
 That he fond in a privie wone 
 
 The countree oi Faerie. 
 
 Wherein he soughte north and south, 
 And often spired with his moulh, 
 
 In many a foreste wilde ; 
 For in that countree nas ther non, 
 That to him dorst ride or gon, 
 
 Neither wife ne coilde. 
 
 Rime of Sir Thopa,. 
 
 "V. Other two causes, deeply affecting the super- 
 stition of which we treat, remain yet to be 
 noticed. The first is derived from the Christian 
 religion, which admits only of two classes of 
 spirits, exclusive of the sculs of men — angels, 
 namely, and devils. This doctrine had a neces- 
 sary tendency to abolish the distinction among 
 subordinate spirits, which had been introduced 
 by the superstitions of the Scandinavians. The 
 existence of the Fairies was readily admitted ; 
 but, as they had no pretensions to the angelic 
 character, they were deemed to be of infernal 
 
 ^origin. The union, also, which had been formed 
 
 I betwixt the elves and the Pagan deities, was 
 
 probably of disservice to the former ; since every 
 
 one knows that the whole synod of Olympus 
 
 were accounted daemons. 
 
 The fulminations of the church were, therefore, 
 early directed against those who consulted or 
 consorted with the Fairies; and, according to 
 the inquisitorial logic, the innocuous choristers of 
 Oberon and Titania were, without remorse, con- 
 founded with the sable inhabitants of the ortho- 
 dox Gehennim ; while th e rings, which marked 
 theirrevels, were assimilated to the blasted sward 
 on which the witches held their infernal sabbath. 
 — Delrii Disq. Mag. p. 179. This transformation 
 early took place ; for, among the many crimes 
 for which the famous Joan of Arc was called upon 
 to answer, it was not the least heinous, that she 
 had frequented the Tree and Fountain, nea. 
 Dompre, which formed the rendezvous of the 
 Fairies, and bore their name ; that she had joined 
 in the festive dance with the elves, who haunted 
 this charmed spot ; had accented of their magical 
 bouquets, and availed herself of their talismans, 
 for the deliverance of her country. — Vide Acta 
 Judiciaria contra Johannam D'Arceam, vulgo 
 vocatam Johanne la Pucelle. 
 
 The Reformation swept away many of the cor 
 ruptions of the church of Rome ; but the purify- 
 ing torrent remained itself somewhat tinctured by 
 the superstitious impurities of the soil over which 
 it had passed. The trials of sorcerers and witches, 
 which disgrace our criminal records, become even 
 more frequent after the Reformation of the 
 church ; as if human credulity, no longer amused 
 by the miracles of Rome, had sought for food in 
 the traditionary records of popular superstition. 
 A Judaica. observation of the precepts of the Old 
 ] Testament also, characterized the Presbyterian 
 reformers ; " Thou shalt not suffer a witch to 
 J live," was a text, which at once (as they con- 
 I ceived) authorized their belief in sorcery, and 
 l sanctioned the penalty which they denounced 
 ^against it. The Fairies were, therefore, in no 
 
FAIRY 3ITTH0L0G-T. 
 
 433 
 
 better credit after the Reformation than before,^ 
 being still regarded as actual daemons, or some- 
 thing very little better. A famous divine, Doctor 
 Jasper Brokeman, teaches us, in his system of 
 divinity, " that they inhabit in those places that 
 are polluted with any crying sin, as effusion of 
 blood, or where unbelief or superstitione have 
 gotten the upper hand." — Description of Feroe. 
 The Fairies being on such bad terms with the 
 divines, those who pretended to intercourse with 
 them, were, without scruple, punished as sorcer- I 
 ersj and such absurd charges are frequently I 
 stated as exaggerations of crimes, in themselves • 
 sufficiently heinous. 
 
 Such is the case in the trial of the noted major ! 
 Weir, and his sister ; where the following mum- j 
 mery interlards a criminal indictment, too infa- 
 mously flagitious to be farther detailed: "9th | 
 April, 1670. Jean Weir, indicted of sorceries, I 
 committed by her when she lived and kept a 
 school at Dalkeith : that she took employment 
 from a woman, to speak in her behalf to the ! 
 Queen of Fairii, meaning the devil; and that j 
 another woman gave her a piece of a tree, or root, 
 the next day, and did tell her. that as long as she 
 kept the same, she should be able to do what she 
 pleased ; and that same woman, from whom she j 
 got the tree, caused her spread a cloth before her | 
 door, and set her foot upon it, and to repeat 
 thrice, in the posture foresaid, these wurds, ' All \ 
 her losses and crosses go alongsf to the doors/ which | 
 was truly a consulting with the devil, and an act j 
 of sorcery, &c. That after the spirit, in the shape j 
 of a woman, who gave her the piece of tree, had J 
 removed, she, addressing herself to spinning, and I 
 having spun but a short time, found more yarn j 
 upon the pirn than could possibly have come 
 there by good means." — Books of Adjournal. 
 
 « It is observed in the record, that major 
 "Weir, a man of the most vicious character, was 
 at the same time ambitious of appearing emi- 
 nently godly ; and used to frequent the beds of 
 sek persons, to assist them with his prayers. On 
 such occasions, he put to his mouth a long staff, 
 
 Neither was the judgment of the criminal 
 court of Scotland less severe against another 
 familiar of the Fairies, whose supposed corre- 
 spondence with the court of Elfland seems to have 
 constituted the sole crime for which she was 
 burned alive. Her name was Alison Pearson, 
 and she seems to have been a very noted person. 
 In a bitter satire against Adamson, bishop of St 
 Andrews, he is accused of consulting with sor- 
 cerers, particularly with this very woman ; and 
 an account is given of her travelling through 
 Breadalbane, in the company of the Queen of 
 Faery, and of her descrying, in the court of Elf- 
 land, many persons, who had been supposed at 
 rest in the peaceful grave, f Among these we 
 find two remarkable personages, the secretary, 
 
 which he usually carried, and expressed himself 
 with uncommon energy and fluency, of which he 
 was utterly incapable when the inspiring rod wa3 
 withdrawn. This circumstance, the result, pro- 
 bably, of a trick or habit, appearing suspicious to 
 the judges, the staff of the sorcerer was burned 
 along with his person. One hundred and thirty 
 years have elapsed since his execution, yet no one 
 has, during that space, ventured to inhabit th-- 
 house of this celebrated criminal. 
 
 j For oght the kirk culd him forbid, 
 He sped him sone, and gat the third; 
 Ane carling of the queue of Phareia, 
 That ewiil win geir to elphyne careis : 
 Through all Biade Abane scho has bene. 
 On horsbak on Hallow ewin ; 
 And ay in seiking certayne nightis, 
 As scho sayis with sur silly wychirs : 
 And na*nes out nybours sex or sewin, 
 That we belevit had bene in heawin ; 
 Scho said scho saw theme weill aneugh, 
 And specialUe gude auld Balclench, 
 The secretar, and sundrie uther : 
 Ane "William Symsone, her mother brother, 
 Whom fra scho has resavit a buike 
 For ony herb scho likes to lake; 
 It will instrucc her how to tak it, 
 In saws and sillubs how to mak it ; 
 With stones that meikle mair can doe, 
 In leich craft, where scho lays them toe ; 
 A thousand maladeia scho hes mendit: 
 Now being tane, and apprehendit, 
 Scho being in the bischopis cure, 
 And keipit in his castle sure, 
 "Without respect of worldhe glamer, 
 He past into the witches chalmer. 
 Scottish Poems of XVI. Century, Edin. 180. 
 >oi. ii. p. 320. 
 
 2k 
 
434 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 young Maitland of Lethlngton, and one of the 
 old lairds of Buccleuch. The cause of their being 
 stationed in Elfland probably arose from the 
 manner of their decease ; which, being uncom- 
 mon and violent, caused the vulgar to suppose 
 that they had been abstracted by the Fairies, 
 lethington, as is generally supposed, died a Ro- 
 man death during his imprisonment in Leith; 
 and the Buccleuch, whom I believe to be here 
 meant, was slain, in a nocturnal 6cuffle by the 
 Kers, his hereditary enemies. Besides, they were 
 both attached to the cause of queen Mary, and 
 to the ancient religion ; and were thence, proba- 
 bly, considered as more immediately obnoxious 
 to the assaults of the powers of darkness. * The 
 indictment of Alison Pearson notices her inter- 
 course with the archbishop of St Andrews, and 
 contains some particulars, worthy of notice, re- 
 garding the court of Elfland, It runs thus : — 
 " 28th May, 1586. Alison Pearson, in Byrebill, 
 convicted of witchcraft, and of consulting with 
 evil spirits, in the form of one Mr William Symp- 
 sone, her cosin, who she affirmed was a gritt 
 schollar, and doctor of medicine, that healed her 
 of her diseases when she was twelve years of age ; 
 having lost the power of her syde, and having a 
 familiaritie with him for divers years, dealing 
 with charms, and abuseing the common people 
 by her arts of witchcraft, thir divers yeares by- 
 past. 
 
 "Item, For hanting and repairing with the 
 gude neighbours, and queene of Elfland, thir 
 divers years by-past, as she had confest; and 
 that she had friends in that court, which were of 
 
 * Buccleuch was a violent enemy to the Eng- 
 lish, by whom his lands had been repeatedly 
 plundered, (See Introduction, p. xxvi.) andagreat 
 advocate for the marriage betwixt Mary and the 
 dauphin, 1549. According to John Knox, he 
 had recourse even to threats, in urging the par- 
 liament to agree to the French match. "The 
 laird of Balcleuch," says the Reformer, "a bloody 
 man, with many Gods wounds, swore, they that 
 would not consent should do worse." 
 
 M her own blude, who had gude acquaintance of the 
 
 I j queene of Elfland, which might have helped her ; 
 
 I I but she was whiles well, and whiles ill, sometimes 
 1 1 with them, and other tii es away frae them ; and 
 | j that she would be in hsr bed haille and feire, and 
 I would not wytt where she would be the morn; 
 
 i and that she saw not the queene this seven years, 
 
 I and that she was seven years ill handled in the 
 
 court of Elfland ; that, however, she had gude 
 
 I friends there, and that it was the gude neighbours 
 
 ! that healed her, under God ; and that she was 
 
 coming and going to St Andrews to heale folkes 
 
 thir many years past. 
 
 " Item, Convict of the said act of witchcraft, in 
 as far as she confest that the said Mr William 
 Sympsoune, who was her guidsir sone, born in 
 Stirleing, who was the king's smith, who, when 
 about eight years of age, was taken away by ane 
 Egyptian into Egypt ; which Egyptian was a 
 gyant, where he remained twelve years, and then 
 came home. 
 
 " Item, That she being in Grange Muir, with 
 some other folke, she, being sick, lay downe ; and, 
 when alone, theie carne a man to her, clad in 
 green, who said to her, if she would be faithful, 
 he would do her good; but she, being feared, 
 cried out, but naebodye came to her ; so she said, 
 if he came in God's name, and for the gude of her 
 saule, it was well ; but he gaid away : that he 
 appeared to her another time like a lustie man, 
 and many men and women with him ; that, at 
 seeing him, she signed herself and prayed, and 
 past with them, and saw them making merrie 
 with pypes, and gude cheir and wine, and that 
 she was carried with them ; and that when she 
 telled any of these things, she was sairlie tor- 
 mentit by them ; and that the first time 6he gaed 
 with them, she gat a sair straike frae one of them, 
 which took all the poustie f of her syde frae her, 
 and left ane ill-far'd mark on her syde. 
 
 "Item, That she saw the gude neighbours 
 make their sawes % with pannes and fyres, and 
 
 a£ f Poustie— Power. 
 
 t Sarves —Salves. 
 
FAIRY MYTHOLOGY 
 
 435 
 
 that they gathered the herbs before the sun was #for those guests to bathe themselves in, which 
 
 up, and they came verie fearful sometimes to her, 
 and flaide ' her very sair, which made her cry, 
 and threatened they would use her worse than 
 before ; and, at last, they took away the power of 
 her Kaile s.vde frae her, which made her lye many 
 weeks. Sometimes they would come and sitt by 
 her, and promise all that she should never want, 
 if she would be faithful, but if she would speak 
 and telle of them, they should murther her ; and 
 that Mr William Sympsoune is with them, who 
 healed her, and telt her all things ; that he is a 
 young man not six years older than herself, and 
 that he will appear to her before the court comes ; 
 that he told her he was taken away by them, and 
 he bid her sign herself that she be not taken 
 away, for the teind of them are tane to hell everie 
 year. 
 
 "Item, That the said Mr William told her 
 what herbs were fit to cure every disease, and 
 how to use them ; and particularlie tauld, that 
 the bishop of St Andrews laboured under sindrie 
 diseases, sic as the ripples, trembling, feaver, flux, 
 & c. and bade her make a sawe, and anoint several 
 parts of his body therewith, and gave directions 
 for making a posset, which she made and gave 
 him." 
 
 For this idle story, the poor woman actually 
 suffered death. Yet, notwithstanding the fervent 
 arguments thus liberally used by the orthodox, j 
 the common people, though they dreaded even to | 
 think or speak about the Fairies, by no means | 
 unanimously acquiesced in the doctrine which [ 
 consigned them to eternal perdition. The inha- | 
 bitants of the Isle of Man call them the "good I 
 •people, and say they live in wilds and forests, and I 
 on mountains, and shun great cities, because of | 
 the wickedness acted therein : all the houses are 
 blessed where they visit, for they fly vice. A i 
 person would be thought imprudently profane, j 
 who should suffer his family to go to bed, without | 
 having first set a tub, or pail, full of clean water, | 
 
 ~ I 
 
 * Flaide- Scared. a 
 
 the natives aver they constantly do, as soon as 
 ever the eyes of the family are closed, wherever 
 they vouchsafe to come.'' — Waldron's Works, p. 
 126. There are some curious, and perhaps anom- 
 alous facts, concerning the history of Fairies, in a 
 sort of Cock-lane narrative, contained in a letter 
 from Moses Pitt to Dr Edward Fowler, lord 
 bishop of Gloucester, printed at London in 1696, 
 and preserved in Morgan's Phoenix Britannicus, 
 4to, London, 1732. 
 
 Anne Jefferies was born in the parish of St 
 Teath, in the county of Cornwall, in 1626. Being 
 the daughter of a poor man, she resided as servant 
 in the house of the narrator's father, and waited 
 upon the narrator himself, in his childhood. As 
 she was knitting stockings in an arbour of the 
 garden, "six small people, all in green clothes," 
 came suddenly over the garden wall ; at the sight 
 of whom, being much frightened, sue was seized 
 with convulsions, and continued so long sick, that 
 she became as a changeling, and was unable to 
 walk. Luring her sickness, she frequently ex- 
 claimed, " They are just gone out of the window ! 
 they are just gone out of the window ! do you not 
 see them ?" These expressions, as she afterwards 
 declared, related to their disappearing. During 
 the harvest, when every one was employed, her 
 mistress walked out ; and dreading that Anne, 
 who was extremely weak and silly, might injure 
 herself, or the house, by the fire, with some diffi- 
 culty persuaded her to walk in the orchard till 
 her return. She accidentally hurt her leg, and, 
 at her return, Anne cured it, by stroking it with 
 her hand, tfhe appeared to be informed of every 
 particular, and asserted, that she had this infor- 
 mation from the Fairies, who had caused the 
 misfortune. After this, she performed numerous 
 cures, but would never receive money for them. 
 From harvest time to Christmas, she was fed by 
 the Fairies, and eat no other victuals but theirs. 
 The narrator affirms, that, looking one day 
 through the key-hole of the door of her chamber, 
 he saw her eating; and that she gave him " 
 
436 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 piece of bread, which was the most delicious he 
 ever tasted. The Fairies always appeared to her 
 in even numbers ; never less than two, nor more 
 than eight, at a time. She had always a sufficient 
 stock of salves and medicines, and yet neither 
 made, nor purchased any ; nor did she ever 
 appear to be in want of money. She, one day, 
 gave a silver cup, containing about a quart, to 
 the daughter of her mistress, a girl about four 
 years old, to carry to her mother, who refused to 
 receive it. The narrator adds, that he had seen 
 her dancing in the orchard among the trees, and 
 that sheinformed him she was then dancing with 
 the Fairies. The report of the strange cures 
 wnichshe performed, soon attracted the attention 
 of both ministers and magistrates. The ministers 
 endeavoured to persuade her, that the Fairies, by 
 which she was haunted, were evil spirits, and 
 that she was under the delusion of the devil. 
 After they had left her, she was visited by the 
 Fairies, while in great perplexity, who desired 
 her to cause those who termed them evil spirits, 
 to read that place of scripture, First Epistle of 
 John, chap. iv. v. 1, — Dearly beloved, believe not 
 every spirit, but try the spirits, whether they are of 
 Cod, SfC. Though Anne Jefferies could not read, 
 she produced a Bible folded down at this pas- 
 sage. By the magistrates she was confined three 
 months, without food, in Bodmin jail, and after- 
 wards for some time in the house of justice Treg- 
 cagle. Before the constable appeared to appre- 
 hend her, she was visited by the Fairies, who 
 informed her what was intended, and advised 
 her to go with him. "When this account was 
 given, on Slay 1, 1696, she was still alive ; but 
 refused to relate any particulars of her connection 
 with the Fairies, or the occasion on which they 
 deserted her, lest she should again fall under the 
 cognizance of the magistrates. 
 
 Anne Jefferies' Fairies were not altogether 
 singular in maintaining their good character, in 
 opposition to the received opinion of the church. 
 Aubrey and Lily, unquestionably judges in such 
 matters, had a high opinion of these beings, if we » 
 
 may judge from the following succinct and busi- 
 ness-like memorandum of a ghost-seer. " Anno 
 1670. Not far from Cirencester was an appari- 
 tion. Being demanded whether a good spirit or 
 a bad, returned no answer, but disappeared with 
 a curious perfume, and most melodious twang. 
 M. W. Lily believes it was a fairie. So Proper- 
 tius, 
 
 " ' Omni^ finierat ; tenues secessit In auras, 
 Mansit odor, possis scire fuisae Deam ! ' " 
 
 Aubrey's Miscellanies, p. 80. 
 
 Webster gives an account of a person who 
 cured diseases by means of a white powder. " To 
 this I shall only add thus much, that the man 
 was accused for invoking and calling upon evil 
 spirits, and was a very simple and illiterate per- 
 son to any man's judgment, and had formerly 
 been very poor, but had gotten some pretty little 
 means to maintain himself, his wife, and diverse 
 small children, by his cures done with his white 
 powder, of which there were sufficient proofs ; 
 and the judge asking him how he came by the 
 powder, he told a story to this effect ; That one 
 night, before day was gone, as he was going 
 home from his labour, being very sad and full of 
 heavy thoughts, not knowing how to get meat 
 and drink for his wife and children, he met a fair 
 woman in fine cloaths, who asked him why he 
 was so sad, and he told her that it was by reason 
 of his poverty, to which she said, that if he would 
 follow her counsel, she would help him to that 
 which would serve to get him a good living ; to 
 which he said he would consent with all his heart, 
 so it were not by unlawful ways ; she told him 
 that it should not be by any such ways, but by 
 doing good, and curing of sick people ; and so 
 warning him strictly to meet her there the next 
 night, at the same time, she departed from him, 
 and he went home. And the next night, at the 
 time appointed, he duly waited, and she (accord- 
 ing to promise) came, and told him that it was 
 well that he came so duly, otherwise he had 
 missed that benefit that she intended to do unto 
 him, and so bade him follow her, and not be 
 
FAIRY MYTHOLOGY. 
 
 437 
 
 afraid. Thereupon she led hirti co a little hill, 
 and she knocked three times, and the hill opened, 
 and they went in, and came to a fair hall, 
 wherein was a queen sitting in great state, and 
 many people about her, and the gentlewoman 
 that brought him presented him to the queen, 
 and she said he was welcome, and bid the gen- 
 tlewoman give him some of the white powder, 
 and teach him how to use it, which she did, and 
 gave him a little wood box full of the white pow- 
 der, and bade him give two or three grains of it 
 to any that were sick, and it would heal them ; 
 and so she brought him forth of the hill, and so 
 they parted. And, being asked by the judge, 
 whether the [lace within the hill, which he called 
 a hall, were light or dark, he said, indifferent, as 
 it is with us in the twilight ; and being asked 
 how he got more powder, he said, when he 
 wanted, he went to that hill, and knocked three 
 times, and said every time, I am coming, I am 
 coming, whereupon it opened, and he, going in, 
 was conducted by the aforesaid woman to the 
 queen, and so had more powder given him. This 
 was the plain and simple story (however it may 
 be judged of) that he told before the judge, the 
 whole court, and the jury ; and there being no 
 proofs, but what cures he had done to very many, 
 the jury did acquit him : and I remember the 
 judge said, when all the evidence was heard, that 
 if he were to assign his punishment, he should be 
 whipped from thence to Fairy-hall ; and did 
 seem to judge it to be a delusion, or an impos- 
 ture." — Webster's Displaying of suppused Witch- 
 craft, p. 301. 
 
 A rustic, also, whom Jackson taxed with 
 magical practices, about 1620, obstinately denied 
 that the good king of the Fairies had any con- 
 nection with the devil ; and some of the Highland 
 seers, even in our day, have boasted of their inti- 
 macy with the elves, as an innocent and advan- 
 tageous connection. One Macoan, in Appin, the 
 last person eminently gifted with the second 
 sight, professed to my learned and excellent 
 friend, Mr Ramsay, of Ochtertyre, that he 
 
 owed his prophetic visions to their interven- 
 tion. 
 
 VI. There remains yet another cause to be 
 noticed, which seems to have induced a consi- 
 derable alteration into the popular creed of Eng- 
 land, respecting Fairies. Many poets of the 
 sixteenth century, and, above all, our immortal 
 Shakspeare, deserting the hackneyed fictions of 
 Greece and Rome, sought for machinery in the 
 superstitions of their native country. " The fays, 
 which nightly dance upon the wold," were an 
 interesting subject ; and the creative imagination 
 of the bard, improving upon the vulgar belief, 
 assigned to them many of those fanciful attributes 
 and occupations, which posterity have since asso- 
 ciated with the name of Fairy. In such employ- 
 ments, as rearing the drooping flower, and 
 arranging the disordered chamber, the Fairies of 
 South Britain gradually lost the harsher charac- 
 ter of the dwarfs, or elves. Their choral dances 
 were enlivened by the introduction of the merry 
 goblin Puck, * for whose freakish pranks they 
 exchanged their original mischievous propensi- 
 ties. The Fairies of Shakspeare, Drayton, and 
 Mennis, therefore, at first exquisite fancy por- 
 traits, may be considered as having finally ope- 
 rated a change in the original which gave them 
 birth, f 
 
 * Robin Goodfellow, or Hobgoblin, possesses 
 the frolicksome qualities of the French Lutin 
 For his full character, the reader is referred to 
 the "Reliques of Ancient Poetry." The proper 
 livery of this sylvan Momus is to be found in an 
 old play. " Enter Robin Goodfellow, in a suit 
 of leather, close to his body, his hands and face 
 coloured russet colour, with a flail." — Grim the 
 Collier of Croydon, Act 4, Scene 1. At other times, 
 however, he is presented in the vernal livery of 
 the elves, his associates : — 
 
 Tim. " I have made 
 Some speeches, Sir, in verse, which have been spoke 
 By a green Robin Goodfellow, from Cheapside con- 
 duit, 
 To my Father's company." 
 
 The City Match, Act 1, Scene 6. 
 
 t The Fairy land, and Fairies of Spenser, have 
 
43S 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS, 
 
 While the fays of South Britain received such 
 attractive and poetical embellishments, those of 
 Scotland, who possessed no such advantage, re- 
 tained more of their ancient and appropriate 
 character. Perhaps, also, the persecution which 
 these sylvan deities underwent, at the instance of 
 the stricter presbyterian clergy, had its usual 
 effect in hardening their dispositions, or at least 
 in rendering them more dreaded by those among 
 whom they dwelt. The face of the country, too, 
 might have some effect; as we should naturally 
 attribute a less malicious disposition, and a less 
 frightful appearance, to the fays who glide by 
 moon-light thmugh the oaks of Windsor, than 
 to those who haunt the solitary heaths and lofty 
 mountains of the North. The fact at least is 
 certain ; and it has not escaped a late ingenious 
 traveller, that the character of the Scottish Fairy 
 is more harsh and terrific than that which is 
 ascribed to the elves of our sister kingdom. — See 
 Stoddart's View of Scenery and Manners in Scot- 
 land. 
 
 Some curious particulars concerning the Daoine 
 Shie, or Men of Peace, for so the highlanders call 
 Fairies, may be found in Dr Graham es " Sketches 
 of Picturesque Scenery on the Southern Confines 
 of Perthshire." They are, though not absolutely 
 malevolent, believed to be a peevish, repining, 
 and envious race, who enjoy, in the subterranean 
 recesses, a kind of shadowy splendour. The 
 Highlanders are at all times unwilling to speak 
 
 do connection with popular superstition, being 
 jnly words used to denote an Utopian scene of 
 action, and imaginary and allegorical characters ; 
 and the title of the " Fairy Queen " being proba- 
 bly suggested by the elfin mistress of Chaucer's 
 "Sir Thopas." The stealing of the Red Cross 
 Knight, while a child, is the only incident in the 
 poem which approaches to the popular character 
 of the Fairy :— 
 
 A Fairy thee unweetinj reft, 
 
 There as thou sleptst in tender swadling band, 
 And her base elfin brood there for thee left: 
 Such men do changelings call, so chang'd by Fairies 
 theft. 
 
 Book i. Canto 10. 
 
 ?of them, but especially on Friday, when their 
 influence is supposed to be particularly exten- 
 sive. As they are supposed to be invisibly pre- 
 sent, they are at all times to be spoken of with 
 respect. 
 
 The Fairies of Scotland are represented as a 
 diminutive race of beings, of a mixed, or rather 
 dubious nature, capricious in their dispositions, 
 and mischievous in their resentment. They in- 
 habit the interior of green hills, chiefly those of a 
 conical form, in Gaelic termed Sighan, on which 
 they lead their dances by moon-light ; impressing 
 upon the surface the marks of circles, which some- 
 j times appear yellow and blasted, sometimes of a 
 j deep green hue; and within which itis dangerous 
 to sleep, or to be found after sun-set. The re- 
 moval of those large portions of turf, which thun- 
 derbolts sometimes scoop out of the ground with 
 singular regularity, is also ascribed to their 
 agency. Cattle, which are suddenly seized with 
 the cramp, or some similar disorder, are said to 
 be elf-shot ; and the approved cure is, to chafe 
 the parts affected with a blue bonnet, which, ii 
 may be readily believed, often restores the circu- 
 lation. The triangular flints, frequently found 
 in Scotland, with which the ancient inhabitants 
 probably barbed their shafts, are supposed to be 
 the weapons of Fairy resentment, and are termed 
 elf-arrow heads. The rude brazen battle-axes of 
 the ancients, commonly called celts, are also 
 ascribed to their manufacture. But, like the 
 Gothic duergar, their skill is not confined to the 
 fabrication of arms ; for they are heard sedulously 
 hammering in linns, precipices, and rocky or 
 cavernous situations, where, like the dwarfs of 
 the mires, mentioned by Georg. Agricola, they 
 busy themselves in imitating the actions and the 
 various employments of men. The brook of 
 Beaumont, for example, which passes, in its 
 course, by numerous linns and caverns, is noto- 
 rious for being haunted by the Fairies ; and the 
 perforated and rounded stones, which are formei 
 by trituration in its channel, are termed, by the 
 vulgar, fairy cups and dishes. A beautiful reasou 
 
FAIRY MYTHOLOGY. 
 
 439 
 
 Is assigned by Fletcher for the fays frequenting {$ 
 streams and fountains : He tells us of 
 
 A virtuous well, about whose flowery banks 
 The nimble-footed Fairies dance their rounds, 
 By the pale moon-shine, dipping oftentimes 
 Their stolen children, so to make them free 
 From dying flesh and dull mortality. 
 
 Faithful Shepherdess. 
 
 It is sometimes accounted unlucky to pass such 
 places, without performing some ceremony to 
 avert the displeasure of the elves. There is, 
 upon the top of Minchmuir, a mountain in 
 Peebles-shire, a spring, called the Cheese Well, 
 because, anciently, those who passed that way 
 were wont to throw into it a piece of cheese, as 
 an offering to the Fairies, to whom it was con- 
 secrated. 
 
 Like the feld elfen of the Saxons, the usual 
 dress of the Fairies is green; though, on the 
 moors, they have been sometimes observed in 
 heath-brown, or in weeds dyed with the stoneraw, 
 or lichen. * They often ride in invisible proces- 
 sion, when their presence is discovered by the 
 shrill ringing of their bridles. On these occa- 
 sions, they sometimes borrow mortal steeds ; and 
 •when such are found at morning, panting and 
 fatigued in their stalls, with their manes and 
 tails dishevelled and entangled, the grooms, I 
 presume, often find this a convenient excuse for 
 their situation ; as the common belief of the elves 
 quaffing the choicest liquors in the cellars of the 
 rich (see the story of Lord Duffus, below,) might 
 occasionally cloak the delinquencies of an unfaith- 
 ful butler. 
 
 The Fairies, beside their equestrian processions, 
 are addicted, it would seem, to the pleasures of 
 the chace. A young sailor, travelling by night 
 from Douglas, in the Isle of Man, to visit his 
 sister, residing in Kirk Merlugh, heard the noise 
 of horses, the holla of a huntsman, and the 
 sound of a horn. Immediately afterwards, thir- 
 teen horsemen, dressed in green, and gallantly 
 
 * Hence the hero of the ballad is termed : 
 'elfin grey." 
 
 mounted, swept past him. Jack was so much 
 delighted with the sport, that he followed them, 
 and enjoyed the sound of the horn for some miles ; 
 and it was not till he arrived at his sister's house 
 that he learned the danger which he had incur- 
 red. I must not omit to mention, that these 
 little personages are expert jockeys, and senrn to 
 ride the little Manks ponies, though apparently 
 well suited to their size. The exercise, there- 
 fore, falls heavily upon the English and Irish 
 horses brought into the Isle of Man. Mr Wal- 
 dron was assured by a gentleman of Ballafleteher, 
 that he had lost three or four capital hunters by 
 these nocturnal excursions. — Waldron's Works, 
 p. 132. From the same author we learn, that 
 the Fairies sometimes take more legitimate modes 
 of procuring horses. A person of the utmost in- 
 tegrity informed him, that, having occasion to 
 sell a horse, he was accosted among the moun- 
 tains by a little gentleman plainly dressed, who 
 priced his horse, cheapened him, and, after some 
 chaffering, finally purchased him. No sooner 
 had the buyer mounted, and paid the price, than 
 he sunk through the earth, horse and man, to 
 the astonishment and terror of the seller ; who 
 experienced, however, no inconvenience from 
 dealing with so extraordinary a purchaser. — Ibid. 
 p. 135. 
 
 It is hoped the reader will receive, with due re- 
 spect, these, and similar stories, told by Mr "Wal- 
 dron ; for he himself, a scholar and a gentleman, 
 informs us, "as to circles in grass, and the im- 
 pression of small feet among the snow, I cannot 
 deny but 1 have seen them frequently, and once 
 thought I heard a whistle, as though in my ear, 
 when nobody that could make it was near me." 
 In this passage there is a curious picture of the 
 contagious effects of a superstitious atmosphere. 
 Waldron had lived so long among the Manks, 
 that he was almost persuaded to believe their 
 legends. 
 
 The worthy captain George Burton communi- 
 cated to Richard Bovet, gent., author of the 
 interesting work, entitled, " Pandcemonium, or 
 
440 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS 
 
 the Devil's Cloister Opened," the following sin- 
 gular account of a lad called the Fairy Boy of 
 Leith, who, it seems, acted as a drummer to the 
 elves, who weekly held rendezvous in the Calton 
 Hill, near Edinburgh. 
 
 "About fifteen years since, having business 
 that detained me for some time at Leith, which 
 is near Edinburgh, in the kingdom of Scotland, 
 I often met some of my acquaintance at a certain 
 house there, where we used to drink a glass of 
 wine for our refection ; the woman which kept 
 the house was of honest reputation among the 
 neighbours, which made me give the more atten- 
 tion to what she told me one day about a fairy 
 boy (as they called him,) who lived about that 
 town. She had given me so strange an account 
 of him, that I desired her I might see him the 
 first opportunity, which she promised ; and not 
 long after, passing that way, she told me there 
 was the fairy boy ; but a little before I came by, 
 and, casting her eye into the street, said, ' Look 
 you, Sir, yonder he is at play with those other 
 boys,' and designing him to me, I went, and, by 
 smooth words, and a piece of money, got him to 
 come into the house with me ; where, in the 
 presence of divers people, 1 demanded of him 
 several astrological questions, which he answered 
 with great subtilty; and, through all his dis- 
 course, carried it with a cunning much above his 
 years, which seemed not to exceed ten or eleven. 
 " He seemed to make a motion like drumming 
 upon the table with his fingers, upon which I 
 asked him, Whether he could beat a drum ? To 
 which he replied, Yes, Sir, as well as any man in 
 Scotland ; for every Thursday night I beat all 
 points to a sort of people that used to meet under 
 yonder hill, (pointing to the great hill between 
 Edenborough and Leith.) How, boy? quoth I, 
 What company have you there ? There are, Sir, 
 (said he) a great company both of men and wo- 
 men, and they are entertained with many sorts 
 of musick, besides my drum ; they have, besides, 
 plenty of variety of meats and wine, and many 
 times we are carried into France or Holland in a 
 
 night, and return again, and whilst we are 
 there, we enjoy all the pleasures the country 
 doth afford. I demanded of him, how they got 
 under that hill ? To which he replied, that 
 there were a great pair of gates that opened to 
 them, though they were invisible to others ; and 
 that within there were brave large rooms, as well 
 accommodated as most in Scotland. — I then 
 asked him, How I should know what he said to 
 be true ? Upon which he told me he would read 
 my fortune, saying, I should have two wives, and 
 that he saw the forms of them sitting on my 
 shoulders ; that both would be very handsome 
 women. As he was thus speaking, a woman of 
 the neighbourhood coming into the room, de- 
 manded of him, What her fortune should be ? 
 He told her that she had two bastards before she 
 was married, which put her in such a rage, that 
 she desired not to hear the rest. 
 
 " The woman of the house told me, that all the 
 people in Scotland could not keep him from the 
 rendezvous on Thursday night ; upon which, by 
 promising him some more money, I got a promise 
 of him to meet me at the same place, in the after- 
 noon, the Thursday following, and so dismist him 
 at that time. The boy came again, at the place 
 and time appointed, and I had prevailed with 
 some friends to continue with me (if possible) to 
 prevent his moving that night. He was placed 
 between us, and answered many questions, until, 
 about eleven of the clock, he was got away un- 
 . perceived of the company, but I, suddenly missing 
 him, hasted to the door, and took hold of him, 
 and so returned him into the same room ; we all 
 watched him, and, on a sudden, he was again got 
 out of doors ; I followed him close, and he made 
 a noise in the street, as if he had been set upon ; 
 but from that time I could never see him. 
 
 " Geohge Burton." 
 Pandtemonium, or the Devil's Cloyster. By 
 Richard Bovet, Gent. Lond. 16S4, p. 172. 
 
 From the " History of the Irish Bards," by Mr 
 Walker, and from the glossary subjoined to the 
 lively and ingenious Tale of " Castle Rackrent," 
 
FAIRY MYTHOLOGY. 
 
 441 
 
 we learn, that the same ideas, concerning Fairies, 
 are current among the vulgar in that country. 
 
 The latter authority mentions their inhabiting 
 the ancient tumuli, called Barrows, and their 
 abstracting mortals. They are termed "the 
 good people :" and when an eddy of wind raises 
 loose dust and sand, the vulgar believe that it 
 announces a Fairy procession, and bid God speed 
 their journey. 
 
 The Scottish Fairies, in like manner, some- 
 times reside in subterranean abodes, in the vicin- 
 ity of human habitations, or, according to the 
 popular phrase, under the " door-stane," or 
 threshold; in which situation, they sometimes 
 establish an intercourse with men, by borrowing 
 and lending, and other kindly offices. In this 
 capacity they are termed "the good neighbours," * 
 from supplying privately the wants of their j 
 friends, and assisting them in all their transac- 
 tions, while their favours are concealed. Of this 
 
 # Perhaps this epithet is only one example, 
 among many, of the extreme civility which the 
 vulgar in Scotland use towards spirits of a dubi- 
 ous, or even a determinedly mischievous, nature. 
 The archfiend himself is often distinguished by 
 the softened title of the "good-man." This 
 epithet, so applied, must sound strange to a 
 southern ear; but, as the phrase bears various 
 interpretations, according to the places where it 
 is used, so, in the Scottish dialect, the goodman 
 of suck a place signifies the tenant, or life-renter, 
 in oppositk n to the laird, or proprietor. Hence, 
 the devil is termed the good-man, or tenant, of 
 the infernal regions. In the book of the Univer- 
 sal Kirk, 13th May, 1594, mention is made of 
 " the horrible superstitioune usit in Garioch, and 
 dyvers parts of the countrie, in not labouring a 
 parcel of ground dedicated to the devil, under 
 the title of the Guid Man's Croft." Lord Hailes 
 conjectured this to have been the tenenos adjoin- 
 ing to some ancient Pagan temple. The una- 
 vowed, but obvious purpose of this practice, was 
 to avert the destructive rage of Satan from the 
 neighbouring possessions. It required various 
 fulminations of the General Assembly of the 
 Kirk to abolish a practice bordering so nearly 
 upon the doctrine of the Magi. 
 
 the traditionary story of Sir Godfrey Macculloch 
 forms a curious example. 
 
 As this Gallovidian gentleman was taking the 
 air on horseback, near his own house, he was sud- 
 denly accosted by a little old man, arrayed in 
 green, and mounted upon a white palfrey. After 
 mutual salutation, the old man gave Sir Godfrey 
 to understand, that he resided under his habita- 
 tion, and that he had great reason to complain 
 of the direction of a drain, or common sewer, 
 which emptied itself directly into his chamber of 
 dais, f Sir Godfrey Maculloch was a good deal 
 startled at this extraordinary complaint ; but, 
 guessing the nature of the being he had to deal 
 with, he assured the old man, with great cour- 
 tesy, that the direction of the drain should be 
 altered; and caused it to be done accordingly. 
 Many years afterwards, Sir Godfrey had the mis- 
 fortune to kill, in a fray, a gentleman of the 
 neighbourhood. He was apprehended, tried, and 
 condemned. £ The scaffold, upon which his 
 head was to be struck off, was erected on the 
 Castle-hill of Edinburgh; but hardly had he 
 reached the fatal spot, when the old man, upon 
 his white palfrey, pressed through the crowd, 
 with the rapidity of lightning. Sir Godfrey, at 
 his command, sprung on behind him ; the " good 
 neighbour " spurred his horse down the steep 
 bank, and neither he nor the criminal were ever 
 again seen. 
 
 The most formidable attribute of the elves, was 
 their practice of carrying away and exchanging 
 children, and that of stealing human souls from 
 their bodies. " A persuasion prevails among the 
 ignorant," says the author of a MS. history of 
 
 t The best chamber was thus currently deno- 
 minated in Scotland, from the French dais, sig- 
 nifying that part of the ancient halls which was 
 elevated above the rest, and covered with a ca- 
 nopy. The turf-seats, which occupy the sunn) 
 side of a cottage wall, are also termed the dais. 
 
 $ In this particular, tradition coincides with 
 the real fact ; the trial took place in 1697. 
 
442 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 Moray, " that, in a consumptive disease, the 
 Fairies steal away the soul, and put the soul of a 
 Fairy in the room of it." This belief prevails 
 chiefly along the eastern coast of Scotland, where 
 a practice, apparently of druidical origin, is used 
 to avert the danger. In the increase of the 
 March moon, withies of oak and ivy are cut, and 
 twisted into wreaths or circles, which they pre- 
 serve till next March. After that period, when 
 persons are consumptive, or children hectic, they 
 cause them to pass thrice through these circles. 
 In other cases the cure was more rough, and at 
 least as dangerous as the disease, as will appear 
 from the following extract: 
 
 " There is one thing remarkable in this parish 
 of Suddie (in Inverness-shire,) which I think 
 proper to mention. There is a small hill N. W. 
 from the church, commonly called Therdy Hill, 
 or Hill of Therdie, as some term it ; on the top 
 of which there is a well, which I had the curi- 
 osity to view, because of the several reports con- 
 cerning it. "When children happen to be sick, 
 and languish long in their malady, so that they 
 almost turned skeletons, the common people 
 imagine they are taken away (at least the sub- 
 stance) by spirits, called Fairies, and the shadow 
 left with them; so, at a particular season in 
 summer, they leave them all night themselves, 
 watching at a distance, near this well, and this 
 they imagine will either end or mend them ; they 
 say many more do recover than do not. Yea, 
 an honest tenant who lives hard by it, and whom 
 I had the curiosity to discourse about it, told me 
 it haB recovered some, who were about eight or 
 nine years of age, and to his certain knowledge, 
 they bring adult persons to it; for, as he was 
 passing one dark night, he heard groanings, and, 
 coming to the well, he found a man, who had 
 been long sick, wrapped in a plaid, so that he 
 could scarcely move, a stake being fixed in the 
 earth, with a rope, or tedder, that was about the 
 plaid ; he had no sooner inquired what he was, 
 but he conjured him to loose him, and out of 
 sympathy he was pleased to slacken that wherein 
 
 •he was, as I may so speak, swaddled ; but, if T 
 right remember, he signified, he did not recover." 
 Account of the Parish of Suddie, apud Macfar- 
 lane's MSS. 
 
 According to the earlier doctrine, concerning 
 the original corruption of human nature, the 
 power of daemons over infants had been long 
 reckoned considerable, in the period intervening 
 between birth and baptism. During this period, 
 therefore, children were believed to be particu- 
 larly liable to abstraction by the fairies, and 
 mothers chiefly dreaded the substitution of 
 changelings in the place of their own offspring. 
 Various monstrous charms existed in Scotland, 
 | for procuring the restoration of a child which had 
 I been thus stolen ; but the most efficacious of 
 them was supposed to be, the roasting of the 
 supposititious child upon the live embers, when it 
 was believed it would vanish, and the true child 
 | appear in the place, whence it had been originally 
 | abstracted. * It may be questioned if this expe- 
 I riment could now be made without the animad- 
 I version of the law. Even that which is prescribed 
 I in the following legend is rather too hazardous 
 for modern use. 
 
 " A certain woman having put out her child 
 I to nurse in the country, found, when she came 
 to take it home, that its form was so much al- 
 tered, that she scarce knew it; nevertheless, not 
 knowing what time might do, took it home for 
 her own. But when, after some years, it could 
 neither speak nor go, the poor woman was fain 
 to carry it, with much trouble, in her arms ; and 
 one day, a poor man coming to the door, ' God 
 bless you, mistress,' said he, 'and your poor 
 
 * Less perilous recipes were sometimes used. 
 The editor is possessed of a small relique, termed 
 by tradition a toad-stone, the influence of which 
 was supposed to preserve pregnant women from 
 the power of daemons, and other dangers inci- 
 dental to their situation. It has been carefully 
 preserved for several generations, was often 
 pledged for considerable sums of money, and 
 uniformly redeemed from a belief in its efficacy. 
 
FAIRY MYTHOLOGY. 
 
 child ; be pleased to bestow something on a poor 
 man.' 'Ah! this child,' replied she, is the 
 cause of all my sorrow,' and related what had 
 happened, adding, moreover, that she thought it 
 changed, and none of her child. The old man, 
 whom years had rendered more prudent in such 
 matters, told her, to find out the truth, she 
 should make a clear fire, sweep the hearth very 
 clean, and place the child fast in his chair, that 
 he might not fall before it, and break a dozen 
 eggs, and place the four-and-twenty half-shells 
 before it ; then go out, and listen at the door : 
 for, if the child spoke, it was certainly a change- 
 ling ; and then she should carry it out, and leave 
 it on the dunghill to cry, and not to pity it, till 
 she heard its voice no more. The woman, hav- 
 ing done all things according to these words, 
 heard the child say, * Seven years old was I before 
 1 came to the nurse, and four years have I lived 
 since, and never saw so many milk pans before. 
 So the woman took it up, and left it upon the 
 dunghill to cry, and not to be pitied, till at last 
 she thought the voice went up into the air ; and 
 coming, found there her own natural and well- 
 favoured child."— Grose's Provincial Glossary, 
 quoted from "A Plesant Treatise on Witch- 
 craft." 
 
 The most minute and authenticated account 
 of an exchanged child is to be found in "Waldron's 
 " Isle of Man," a book from which I have de- 
 rived much legendary information. "1 was 
 prevailed upon myself," says that author, "to go 
 and see a child, who, they told me, was one of 
 these changelings, and, indeed, must own, was 
 not a little surprised, as well as shocked, at the 
 sight. Nothing under heaven could have a more 
 beautiful face ; but, though between five and six 
 years old, and seemingly healthy, he was so far 
 from being able to walk or stand, that he could 
 not so much as move any one joint ; his limbs 
 were vastly long for his age, but smaller than any 
 infant's of six months ; his complexion was per- 
 fectly delicate, and he had the finest hair in the 
 world. He never spoke nor cried, ate scarce any 
 
 443 
 
 ^ft thing, and was very seldom seen to smile ; but if 
 I any one called him a, fairy-elf , he would frown, 
 | and fix his eyes so earnestly on those who said it, 
 | as if he would look them through. His mother, 
 or at least his supposed mother, being very poor, 
 
 uently went out a chareing, and left him a 
 whole day together. The neighbours, out of 
 curiosity, have often looked in at the window, tc 
 see how he behaved while alone ; which, when- 
 ever they did, they were sure to find him laugh- 
 ing, and in the utmost delight. This made them 
 judge that he was not without company, more 
 pleasing to him than any mortals could be ; and 
 what made this conjecture seem the more reason- 
 able, was, that if he were left ever so dirty, the 
 woman, at her return, saw him with a clean 
 face, and his hair combed with the utmcst exact- 
 ness and nicety." — P. 128. 
 
 "Waldron gives another account of a poor wo- 
 man, to whose offspring, it would seem, the 
 Fairies had taken a special fancy. A few nights 
 after she was delivered of her first child, the 
 family were alarmed by a dreadful cry of " Fire !'• 
 All flew to the door, while the mother lay trem- 
 bling in bed, unable to protect her infant, which 
 was snatched from the bed by an invisible hand. 
 Fortunately, the return of the gossips, after the 
 causeless alarm, distuihed the Fairies, who drop- 
 ped the child, which was found sprawling and 
 shrieking upon the threshold. At the good 
 woman's second accouchement, a tumult was 
 heard in the cow-house, which drew thither the 
 whole assistants. They returned, when they 
 found that all was quiet among the cattle, and 
 lo! the second child had been carried from . the 
 bed, and dropped in the middle of the lane. But, 
 upon the third occurrence of the same kind, the 
 company were again decoyed out of the sick wo- 
 man's chamber by a false alarm, leaving only a 
 nurse, who was detained by the bonds of sleep. 
 On this last occasion, the mother plainly saw her 
 child removed, though the means were invisible. 
 She screamed for assistance to the nurse ; but the 
 &> old lady had partaken too deeply of the cordials 
 
444 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 which circulate upon such joyful occasions, to be <& 
 easily awakened. In short, the child was this 
 time fairly carried off, and a withered, deformed 
 creature Kft in its stead, quite naked, with the 
 clothes of the abstracted infant, rolled in a bun- 
 dle, by its side. This creature lived nine years, 
 ate nothing but a few herbs, and neither spoke, 
 stuod, walked, nor performed any other func- 
 tions of mortality ; resembling, in all respects, 
 the changeling already mentioned. — Waldron's 
 Works, ibid. 
 
 But the power of the Fairies was not confined 
 to unchristened children alone; it was supposed 
 frequently to extend to full-grown persons, espe- 
 cially such as, in an unlucky hour, were devoted 
 to the devil by the execration of parents and of 
 masters ; * or those who were found asleep under 
 a rock, or on a green hill, belonging to the 
 Fairies, after sun-set, or, finally, to those who 
 unwarily joined their orgies. A tradition existed, 
 during the seventeenth century, concerning an 
 ancestor of the noble family of Duffus, who, 
 " walking abroad in the fields, near to his own 
 house, was suddenly carried away, and found the 
 next day at Paris, in the French king's cellar, 
 with a silver cup in his hand. Being brought 
 into the king's presence, and questioned by him 
 who he was, and how he came thither, he told 
 his name, his country, and the place of his resi- 
 dence ; and that, on such a day of the month, 
 which proved to be the day immediately preced- 
 ing, being in the fields, he heard the noise of a 
 
 * This idea is not peculiar to the Gothic tribes, 
 but extends to those of Sclavic origin. Tooke 
 (History of Russia, vol. i. p. 100,) relates, that 
 the Russian peasants believe the nocturnal dse- 
 mon, Kikimora, to have been a child, whom the 
 devil stole out of the womb of its mother, because 
 she had cursed it. They also assert, that if an 
 execration against a child be spoken in an evil 
 hour, the child is carried off by the devil. The 
 beings, so stolen, are neither fiends nor men ; 
 they are invisible, and afraid of the cross and 
 holy water; but, on the other hand, in their 
 nature and dispositions they resemble mankind, 
 whom they love, and rarely injure. 
 
 whirlwind, and of voices, crying, * Hone and 
 Hattock i' (this is the word which the Fairirs are 
 said to use when they remove from any place,) 
 whereupon he cried, ' Horse and Hattock' also, 
 and was immediately caught up, and transported 
 through the air, by the Fairies, to that place, 
 where, after he had drunk heartily, he fell asleep, 
 and before he woke, the rest of the company 
 were gone, and had left him in the posture 
 wherein he was found. It is said the king gave 
 him the cup, which was found in his hand, and 
 dismissed him." The narrator affirms, " that the 
 cup was still preserved, and known by the name 
 of the Fairy cup." He adds, that Mr Steward, 
 tutor to the then lord Duffus, had informed him, 
 that, " when a boy, at the school of Forres, he, 
 and his school-fellows, were upon a time whip- 
 ping their tops in the church-yard, before the 
 door of the church, when, though the day was 
 calm, they heard a noise of a wind, and at some 
 distance saw the small dust begin to rise and turn 
 round, which motion continued advancing till it 
 came to the place where they were, whereupon 
 they began to bless themselves ; but one of their 
 number being, it seems, a little more bold and 
 confident than his companions, said, ' Horse and 
 Hattock with my top,' and immediately they all 
 saw the top lifted up from the ground, but could 
 not see which way it was carried, by reason of a 
 cloud of dust which was raised at the same time. 
 They sought for the top all about the place where 
 it was taken up, but in vain ; and it was found 
 afterwards in the church-yard, on the other side 
 of the church." — This puerile legend is contained 
 in a letter from a learned gentleman in Scotland, 
 to Mr Aubrey, dated 15th March, 1695, published 
 in Aubrey's Miscellanies, p. 158. 
 
 Notwithstanding the special example of lord 
 Duffus, and of the top, it is the common opinion, 
 that persons, falling under the power of the 
 Fairies, were only allowed to revisit the haunts 
 of men, after seven years had expired. At the 
 end of seven years more, they again disappeared 
 after which they were seldom seen among mor 
 
FAIRY MYTHOLOGY. 
 
 U5 
 
 tals. The accounts they gave of their situation 
 differ in some particulars. Sometimes they were 
 represented as leading a life of constant restless- 
 ness, and wandering by moon-light. According 
 to others, they inhabited a pleasant region, 
 where, however, their situation was rendered 
 horrible, by the sacrifice of one or more individ- 
 uals to the devil every seventh year. This cir- 
 cumstance is mentioned in Alison Pearson's 
 indictment, and in the Tale of the Young Tarn- 
 lane, where it is termed, " the paying the kane to 
 hell," or, according to some recitations, "the 
 teind," or tenth. This is the popular reason 
 assigned for the desire of the Fairies to abstract 
 young children, as substitutes for themselves in 
 this dreadful tribute. Concerning the mode of 
 winning, or recovering, persons abstracted by 
 the Fairies, tradition differs; but the popular 
 opinion, contrary to what may be inferred from 
 the following tale, supposes, that the recovery 
 must be effected within a year and a day, to be 
 held legal in the Fairy court. This feat, which 
 was reckoned an enterprise of equal difficulty 
 and danger, could only be accomplished on Hal- 
 lowe'en, at the great annual procession of the 
 Fairy court. * Of this procession the following 
 description is found in Montgomery's Flyting 
 igainst Polrvart, apud Watson's Collection of Scots 
 Poems, 1709, Part iii. p. 12. 
 
 In the hinder end of harvest 
 
 "When our good ueighbo 
 right, 
 Some buckled on a bunewand, and some on a been 
 
 Ay trottand in troupa from the twilight ; 
 Some saidled a she-ape, all grathed into green, 
 
 Some hobland on a hemp-stalk, hovand to tt 
 hight; 
 The king of Pharie and his court, with the Elf queei 
 
 With many elfish incubus was ridaud that night. 
 There an eli on an ape. an unsel begat, 
 
 Into a pot by Pomathorne ; 
 
 That bratchart m a busse was born; 
 
 They fand a monster on the morn, 
 War faced nor a cat. 
 
 * See the inimitable poem of Hallowe'en :— 
 
 " Upon that night, when Fairies light 
 
 On Cassilis Downan dance; 
 Or o'er the leas, in splendid blaze, 
 
 On stately coursers prance," ice. — Burns. 
 
 V 
 
 ! The catastrophe of Tamlane terminated more 
 successfully than that of other attempts, which 
 tradition still records. The wife of a farmer in 
 Lothian had been carried off by the Fairies, and, 
 during the year of probation, repeatedly appeared 
 on Sunday, in the midst of her children, combing 
 their hair. On one of these occasions she was 
 accosted by her husband ; when she related to 
 him the unfortunate event which had separated 
 them, instructed him by what means he might 
 win her, and exhorted him to exert all his cour- 
 age, since her temporal and eternal happiness 
 depended on the success of his attempt. The 
 farmer, who ardently loved his wife, set out on 
 Hallowe'en, and, in the midst of a plot of furze, 
 waited impatiently for the procession of the 
 Fairies. At the ringing of the Fairy bridles, and 
 the wild unearthly sound which accompanied the 
 cavalcade, his heart failed him, and he suffered 
 the ghostly train to pass by without interruption. 
 When the last had rode past, the whole troop 
 vanished, with loud shouts of laughter and ex- 
 ultation ; among which he plainly discovered the 
 voice of his wife, lamenting that he had lost her 
 for ever 
 
 A similar, but real incident, took place at the 
 town of North Berwick, within the memory of 
 man. The wife of a man, above the lowest class 
 of society, being left alone in the house, a few 
 days after delivery, was attacked and carried off 
 by one of those convulsion fits, incident to her 
 situation. Upon the return of the family, who 
 had been engaged in hay-making, or harvest, 
 they found the corpse much disfigured. This 
 circumstance, the natural consequence of her 
 disease, led some of the spectators to think that 
 she had been carried off by the Fairies, and that 
 the body before them was some elfin deception. 
 The husband, probably, paid little attention to 
 this opinion at the time. The body was interred, 
 and after a decent time had elapsed, finding his 
 domestic affairs absolutely required female super- 
 intendence, the widower paid his addresses to a 
 young woman in the neighbourhood. The re- 
 
440 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 oollection, however, of his former wife, whom he sfe 
 had tenderly loved, haunted his slumbers ; and, 
 one morning, he came to the clergyman of the 
 parish in the utmost dismay, declaring that she 
 had appeared to him the preceding night, in- 
 formed him that she was a captive in Fairy Land, 
 and conjured him to attempt her deliverance. 
 She directed him to bring the minister, and cer- 
 tain other persons, whom she named, to her 
 grave at midnight. Her body was then to be 
 dug up, and certain prayers recited ; after which 
 the corpse was to become animated, and fly from 
 them. One of the assistants, the swiftest runner 
 in the parish, was to pursue the body ; and, if he 
 was able to seize it, before it had thrice encircled 
 the church, the rest were to come to his assist- 
 ance, and detain it, in spite of the struggles it 
 should use, and the various shapes into which it 
 might be transformed. The redemption of the 
 abstracted person was then to become complete. 
 
 * To these I have now to add the following 
 instance of redemption from Fairy Land. The 
 legend is printed from a broadside still popular 
 in Ireland : — 
 
 " Near the town of Aberdeen, in Scotland, 
 lived James Campbell, who had one daughter 
 named Mary, who was married to John Nelson, 
 a young man of that neighbourhood. Shortly 
 after their marriage, they being a young couple, 
 they went to live in the town of Aberdeen, where 
 he followed his trade, being a goldsmith; they 
 lived lovir.g and agreeable together until the 
 time of her lying in, when there was female at- 
 tendants prepared suitable to her situation; 
 when near the hour of twelve at night they were 
 alarmed with a dreadful noise, at which of a 
 sudden the candles went out, which drove the 
 attendants in the utmost confusion ; soon as the 
 women regained their half-lost senses, they called 
 in the neighbours, who, after striking up lights, 
 and looking towards the lying-in woman, found 
 her a corpse, which caused great confusion in the 
 family. There was no grief could exceed that of 
 her husband, who, next morning, prepared or- 
 naments for her funeral ; people of all sects came 
 to her wake, amongst others came the reverend 
 Mr Dodd, who, at first sight of the corpse, said, 
 it's not the body of any Christian, but that Mrs ' 
 
 The minister, a sensible man, argued with hie 
 parishioner upon the indecency and absurdity of 
 what was proposed, and dismissed him. Next 
 Sunday, the banns being for the first time pro- 
 claimed betwixt the widower and his new bride, 
 his former wife, very naturally, took the oppor- 
 tunity of the following night to make him 
 another visit, yet more terrific than the former. 
 She upbraided him with his incredulity, his fickle- 
 ness, and his want of affection ; and, to convince 
 him that her appearance was no aerial illusion, 
 she gave suck, in his presence, to her youngest 
 child. The man, under the greatest horror of 
 mind, had again recourse to the pastor ; and his 
 ghostly counsellor fell upon an admirable expe- 
 dient to console him. This was nothing less than 
 dispensing with the former solemnity of banns, 
 and marrying him, without an hour's delay, to 
 the young woman to whom he was affianced ; 
 after which no spectre again disturbed his repose.* 
 
 Nelson was taken away by the Fairies, and what 
 they took for her was only some substance left in 
 her place. He was not believed, so he refused 
 attending her funeral ; they kept her in the fol- 
 lowing night, and next day she was interred. 
 
 " Her husband, one evening after sunset, being 
 riding in his own field, heard a most pleasant 
 concert of music, and soon after espied a woman 
 coming towards him drest in white; she being 
 veiled he could not observe her face, yet he rode 
 near her, and asked her very friendly who she was 
 that chose to walk alone so late in the evening ? 
 at which she unveiled her face, and burst into 
 tears, saying, I am not permitted to tell you who 
 I am. He knowing her to be his wife, asked her, 
 in the name of God, what disturbed her, or occa- 
 sioned her to appear at that hour ? She said her 
 appearing at any hour was of no consequence ; for 
 though you believe me to be dead and buried, I 
 am not, but was taken away by the Fairies the 
 night of my delivery; you only buried a piece of 
 wood in my place ; I can be recovered if you take 
 proper means ; as for my child, it has three nurses 
 to attend it, but I fear it cannot be brought 
 home; the greatest dependence I have on any 
 person is my brother Robert, who is a captain of 
 a merchant ship, and will be home in ten days 
 hence. Her husband ask.d her wbat means he 
 
FAIRY MYTHOLOGY. 
 
 U\ 
 
 Having concluded these general observations \h uninteresting, I proceed to the more particular 
 
 upon the Fairy superstition, which, although 
 minute, may not, I hope, be deemed altogether 
 
 should take to win her ? She told him he should 
 find a letter, the Sunday morning following, on 
 the desk in his own room, directed to her brother, 
 wherein there would be directions for winning 
 her. Since my being taken from you I have had 
 the attendance of a queen or empress, and if you 
 look over my right shoulder you will see several 
 of my companions ; he then did as she desired, 
 when, at a small distance, he saw a king and 
 queen sitting, beside a moat, on a throne in 
 splendour. 
 
 " She then desired him to look to right and 
 left, which he did, and observed other kings on 
 each side of the king and queen, well guarded. 
 He said, I fear it is an impossibility to win you 
 from such a place ; no, says she, were my brother 
 Robert here in your place, he would bring me 
 home ; but let it not encourage you to attempt 
 the like, for that would occasion the loss of me 
 for ever : there is now severe punishment threat- 
 ened to me for speaking to ;. ou ; but, to prevent 
 that, do you ride up to the moat, where (suppose 
 you will see no person), all you now see will be 
 near you, and do you threaten to burn all the 
 old thorns and brambles that is round the moat, 
 if you do not get a firm promise that I shall get 
 n • punishment, I shall be forgiven; which he 
 premised. She then disappeared, and he lost 
 sight of all he had seen; he then rode very reso- 
 lutely up to the moat, and went round it, vowing 
 he would burn all about it if he would not get a 
 promise that his wife should get no hurt; a 
 voice desired him to cast away a book was in his 
 pocket, and then demand his request ; he an- 
 swered he would not part his book, but grant his 
 request, or they should find the effect of his rage ; 
 the voice answered, that upon honour she should 
 be forgave that fault, but for him to suffer no 
 prejudice to come to the moat, which he pro- 
 mised to fulfil, at which he heard a most pleasant 
 music. He then returned home, and sent for the 
 reverend Mr Dodd, and related to him what he 
 had seen ; Mr Dodd staid with him till Sunday 
 morning following, when, as Mr Kelson looked 
 on the desk in his room, he espied a letter, which 
 he took up, it being directed to her brother, who in 
 a few days came home ; on his receiving the letter 
 he opened it, wherein he found the following : 
 
 illustrations, relating to " The Tale of the Young 
 Tarn lane." 
 
 'Dear Brother, — My husband can relate to 
 you my present circumstances. I request that 
 you will (the first night after you see this) come 
 to the moat where I parted my husband ; let 
 nothing daunt you, but stand in the centre of the 
 moat at the hour of twelve at night, and call me, 
 when I with several others will surround you ; I 
 shad have on the whitest dress of any in company, 
 then take hold of me, and do not forsake me; all 
 the frightful methods they shall use let it not sur- 
 prize you, but keep your hold, suppose they c n- 
 tinue till cock-crow, when they shall vanish all 
 of a sudden, and I shall be safe, when I will re- 
 turn home and live with my husband. If you 
 succeed in your attempt, you will gain applause 
 from all your friends, and have the blessing of 
 your ever-loving and affectionate sister, 
 
 Mary Kelson-. 
 
 " No sooner had he read the letter than he 
 vowed to win his sister and her child, or perish 
 in the attempt; he returned to his ship, and re- 
 lated to his sailors the consequence of the letter; 
 he delayed till ten at night, when his loyal sailors 
 offered to go with him, which he refused, think- 
 ing it best to go alone. As he left his ship a 
 fright:'ul lion came roaring towards him; he 
 drew his sword and struck at the lion, which he 
 observed was of no substance, it being only the 
 appearance of one to terrify him in his attempt ; 
 it only encouraged him, so that he proceeded to 
 the moat, in the centre of which he observed a 
 white handkerchief spread ; on which he was 
 surrounded by a number of women, the cries of 
 whom were the most frightful he ever heard; his 
 sister being in the whitest dress of any round him, 
 he seized her by the right hand, and said, With 
 the help of God, I will preserve you from all in- 
 fernal imps; when, of a sudden, the moat seemed 
 to be on fire round him. He likewise heard the 
 most dreadful thunder could be imagined ; fright- 
 ful birds and beasts seemed to make towards him 
 out of the fire, which he knew was not real; 
 nothing daunted his courage ; he kept hold of 
 his sister f_,r the space of an hour and three 
 quarters, when the cocks began to crow ; then 
 the fire disappeared, and all the frightful imps 
 vanished. He held her in his arms, and fell on 
 his knees and gave God thanks for his proceed- 
 
448 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 The following ballad, still popular in Ettrick i 
 Forest, where the soene is laid, is certainly of 
 much greater antiquity than its phraseology, 
 gradually modernized as transmitted by tradition, 
 would seem to denote. The " Tale of the Young 
 Tamlane " is mentioned in the " Complaynt of 
 Scotland ;" and the air, to which it was ehaunt- 
 ed, seems to have been accommodated to a par- 
 tieulardance ; for the dance of" Thorn of Lynn," 
 another variation of" Thomalin," likewise occurs 
 in the same performance. Like every popular 
 subject, it seems to have been frequently paro- 
 died; and a burlesque ballad, beginning, 
 " Tom o' the Linn was a Scotsman born," 
 
 is still well known. 
 
 In a medley, contained in a curious and an- 
 cient MS. cantus, penes J. 6. Dalyell, Esq., 
 there is an allusion to our ballad : — 
 
 " Sing young Thomlin, be merry, be merry, and 
 twice so merry." 
 
 In " Scottish Songs," 1774, a part of the origi- 
 nal tale was published under the title of " Kerton 
 Ha' ;" a corruption of Carterhaugh ; and, in the 
 same collection, there is a fragment, containing 
 two or three additional verses, beginning, 
 " I'll wager, I'll wager, I'll wager with you," &c. 
 
 In Johnston's "Musical Museum, a more 
 complete copy occurs, under the title of " Thorn 
 Linn," which, with some alterations, was re- 
 printed in the " Tales of Wonder." 
 
 The present edition is the most perfect which 
 
 ings that night ; he believing her cloathing to be 
 light, he put his outside coat on her; she then 
 embraced him, saying, she was now safe, as he 
 put any of his Hoathing on her; he then brought 
 her home to her husband, which occasioned 
 great rejoicing. Her husband and he began to 
 conclude to destroy the moat in revenge of the 
 child they had away, when instantly they heard 
 a voice, which said, you shall have your son safe 
 and well on condition that you will not till the 
 ground within three perches of the moat, nor 
 
 has yet appeared ; being prepared from a colla- 
 tion of the printed copies with a very accurate 
 one in Glenriddell's MSS., and with several re- 
 citals from tradition. Some verses are omitted 
 in this edition, being ascertained to belong to a 
 separate ballad, which will be found in a subse- 
 quent part of the work. In one recital only, the 
 well-known fragment of the " "Wee, wee Man," 
 was introduced, in the same measure with the 
 rest of the poem. It was retained in the first 
 edition, but is now omitted ; as the editor has 
 been favoured, by the learned Mr Eitson, with a 
 copy of the original poem, of which it is a de- 
 tached fragment. The editor has been enabled 
 to add several verses of beauty and interest to 
 this edition of " Tamlane," in consequence of a 
 copy, obtained from a gentleman residing near 
 Langholm, which is said to be very ancient, 
 though the diction is somewhat of a modern cast. 
 The manners of the Fairies are detailed at consi- 
 derable length, and in poetry of no common 
 merit. 
 
 Carterhaugh is a plain, at the conflux of the 
 Ettrick and Yarrow in Selkirkshire, about a mile 
 above Selkirk, and two miles below Newark 
 Castle; a romantic ruin, which overhangs the 
 Yarrow, and which is said to have been the habi- 
 tation of our heroine's father, though others 
 place his residence- in the tower of Oakwood. 
 The peasants point out, upon the plain, those 
 electrical rings, wh'ch vulgar credulity supposes 
 to be traces of the Fairy revels. Here, they say, 
 were placed the stands of milk, and of water, in 
 
 damage bushes or brambles round that place, 
 which they agreed to, when, in a few minutes, 
 the child was left on his mother's knee, which 
 caused them to kneel and return thanks to God. 
 " The circumstance of this terrifying affair was 
 occasioned by leaving Mrs Nelson, the night of 
 her lying-in, in the care of women who were 
 mostly intoxicated with liquor. It is requested 
 both sexes will take notice of the above, and not 
 leave women in distress, but with people who at 
 such times mind their duty to God." 
 
FAIRY MYTHOLOGY. 
 
 4-10 
 
 which "Tamlane" was dipped, in order to effect 
 the disenchantment ; and upon these spots, ac- 
 cording to their mode of expressing themselves, 
 the grass will never grow. Miles Cross vperhaps 
 a corruption of Mary's Cross,) where fair Janet 
 awaited the arrifal of the Fairy train, is said to 
 have stood near the duke of Baccleueh's seat of 
 Bowhili, about half a mile from Carterhaugh. 
 In no part of Scotland, indeed, has the belief in 
 Fairies maintained its ground with more perti- 
 jacity than in Selkirkshire. The most sceptical 
 among the lower ranks only venture to assert, 
 that their appearances, and mischievous exploits, 
 have ceased, or at least become infrequent, since 
 the light of the Gospel was diffused in its purity. 
 One of their frolics is said to have happened late 
 in the last century. The victim of elfin sport 
 was a poor man, who, being employed in pulling 
 heather upon Peatlaw, a hill not far from Car- ^ 
 
 terhaugh, had tired of his labour, and laid him 
 down to sleep upon a Fairy ring. "When he 
 awakened, he was amazed to find himself in the 
 midst of a populous city, to which, as well as to 
 the means of his transportation, he was an utter 
 stranger. His coat was left upon the Peatlaw ; 
 and his bonnet, which had fallen off in the course 
 of his aerial journey, was afterwards found hang- 
 ing upon the steeple of the church of Lanark. 
 The distress of the poor man was, in some degree, 
 relieved, by meeting a carrier, whom he had 
 formerly known, and who conducted him back 
 to Selkirk, by a slower conveyance than had 
 whirled him to Glasgow. — That he had been 
 carried off by the Fairies was implicitly believed 
 by ali, who did not reflect, that a man may have 
 private reasons for leaving his own country, 
 and for disguising his having intentionally 
 done so. 
 
 ^•;c ^:;;.:r Zzzdzw. 
 
 O I forbid ye, maidens a', 
 
 That wear gowd on your hair, 
 
 To come or gae by Carterhaugh 
 For young Tamlane is there. 
 
 There's nane, that gaes by Carterhaugh, 
 But maun leave him a wad, 
 
 Either goud rings, or green mantles, 
 Or else their maidenheid. 
 
 Now, gowd rings ye may buy, maidens, 
 Green man ties ye may spin ; 
 
 But, gin ye lose your maidenheid, 
 Ye'll ne'er get that agen. 
 
 But up then spak her, fair Janet, 
 
 The fairest o' a' her kin ; 
 " I'll cum and gang to Carterhaugh, 
 
 And ask nae leave o' hiin." 
 
 Janet has kilted her green kirtle, * 
 
 A little abune her knee ; 
 And she has braided her yellow hair, 
 
 A little abune her bree. 
 
 And when she came to Carterhaugh, 
 
 She gaed beside the well ; 
 And there she fand his steed standing, 
 
 But away was himsell. 
 
 She hadna pu'd a red red rose, 
 
 A rose but barely three ; 
 Till up and starts a wee wee man, 
 
 At Lady Janet's knee. 
 
 Says—" Why pu' ye the rose, Janet ? 
 
 AVhat gars ye break the tree ? 
 Or why come ye to Carterhaugh, 
 
 TVithouten leave o' me ?" 
 
 * The ladies are always represented, in Dun- 
 bar's Poems, with green mantles and yellow hair 
 — Alaitland Poems, vol. i. p. 45. 
 
 2? 
 
■■ 
 
 450 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 Says — " Carterhaugh it 19 mine ain ; 
 
 My daddie gave it me ; 
 I'll come and gang to Carterhaugh, 
 
 And a6k nae leave o' thee." 
 
 He's ta'en her by the milk-white hand, 
 
 Amang the leaves sae green ; 
 And what they did I cannot tell — 
 
 The green leaves were between. 
 
 He's ta'en her by the milk-white hand, 
 
 Amang the roses red ; 
 And what they did I cannot say — 
 
 She ne'er returned a maid. 
 
 "When she cam' to her father's ha', 
 
 She looked pale and wan ; 
 They thought she'd dried some sair sickness, 
 
 Or been wi' some leman. 
 
 She didna comb her yellow hair, 
 
 Nor make meikle o' her heid ; 
 And ilka thing that lady took, 
 
 Was like to be her deid. 
 
 It's four and twenty ladies ta.it 
 
 Were playing at the ba' ; 
 Janet, the wightest of them anes, 
 
 Was faintest o' them a'. 
 
 Four and twenty ladies fair 
 
 Were playing at the chess ; 
 And out there came the fair Janet, 
 
 As green as any grass. 
 
 Out and spak' an auld gray-headed knight, 
 
 Lay o'er the castle wa' — 
 "And ever alas ! for thee, Janet, 
 
 But we'll be blamed a' !" 
 
 "Nbwhaud your tongue, ye auld gray knight! 
 
 And, an ill deid may ye die, 
 Father my bairn on whom I will, 
 
 I'll father nane on thee." 
 
 Out then spak' her father dear, 
 
 And he spak' meik and mild— 
 "And ever, alas ! my sweet Janet, 
 
 1 fear ye gae with child." 
 
 "And, if I be with child, father, 
 
 Mysell maun bear the blame ; 
 There's ne'er a knight about your ha' 
 
 Shall ha'e the hairnie's name. 
 
 " And, if I be with child, father, 
 'Twill prove a wondrous birth ; 
 
 For well I swear I'm not wi' bairn 
 To any man on earth. 
 
 " If my love were an earthly knight, 
 
 As he's an elfin grey, 
 I wadna gi'e my ain true love 
 
 For nae lord that ye ha'e." 
 
 She princked hersell and prinn'd hersell, 
 By the ae light of the moon, 
 
 And she's away to Carterhaugh, 
 To speak wi' young Tamlane. 
 
 And when she cam' to Carterhaugh, 
 
 She gaed beside the well ; 
 And there she saw the steed standing, 
 
 But away was himsell. 
 
 She hadna pu'd a double rose, 
 
 A rose but only twae, 
 When up and started young Tamlane, 
 
 Says — " Lady, thou pu's nae mae ! 
 
 " Why pu' ye the rose, Janet, 
 
 Within this garden grene, 
 And a' to kill the bonnie babe, 
 
 That we got us between ?" 
 
 " The truth ye'll tell to me, Tamlane ; 
 
 A word ye mauna lie ; 
 Gin e'er ye was in haly chapel, 
 
 Or sained * in Christentie." 
 
 "The truth I'll tell to thee, Janet, 
 
 A word I winna lie; 
 A knight me got, and a lady me bore, 
 
 As well as they did thee. 
 
 " Randolph, earl Murray, was my sire, 
 Dunbar, earl March, is thine ; \ 
 
 We loved when we were children small, 
 Which yet you well may mind. 
 
 * Sained— Hallowed. 
 
 f Both these mighty chiefs were connected with 
 Ettrick Forest and its vicinity. Their memory, 
 therefore, lived in the traditions of the country. 
 Randolph, earl of Murray, the renowned nephew 
 of Robert Bruce, had a castle at Ha' Guards, in 
 Annandale, and another in Peebles-shire, on the 
 borders of the forest, the site of which is still 
 
FAIRY MYTHOLOGY. 
 
 451 
 
 " 'When I was a boy just turned of nine, SB 
 
 My uncle sent for me, 
 To hunt, and hawk, and ride with him, 
 
 And keep him eumpanie. 
 
 " There came a wind out of the north, 
 
 A sharp wind and a snell ; 
 And a dead sleep came over me, 
 
 And frae my horse I fell. 
 
 " The Queen of Fairies keppit me, 
 
 In yon green hill to dwell ; 
 And I'm a fairy, lyth and limb ; 
 
 Fair lady, view me well. 
 
 " But we, that live in Fairy-land, 
 
 No sickness know, nor pain ; 
 I quit my body w.en I will, 
 
 And take to it again. 
 
 " I quit my body when I please, 
 
 Or unto it repair ; 
 We can inhabit, at our ease, 
 
 In either earth or air. 
 
 " Our shapes and size we can convert 
 
 To either large or small ; 
 An old nut-shell's the same to us, 
 
 As is the lofty hall. 
 
 " "We sleep in rose-buds, soft and sweet, 
 
 We revel in the st'.eam ; 
 We wanton lightly ou the wind, 
 
 Or glide on a sun-beam. 
 
 " And all our wants are well supplied, 
 From every rich man's store, 
 
 Who thankless sins the gifts he gets, * 
 And vainly grasps for more. 
 
 called Randall's Walls. Patrick of Dunbar, earl 
 of March, is said, by Henry the Minstrel, to have 
 retreated to Ettrick Forest, after being defeated 
 by Wallace.— Scott. 
 
 * To tin our gifts or mercies, means, ungrate- 
 fully to hold them in slight esteem. The idea, 
 that the possessions of the wicked are most ob- 
 noxi:us to the depredations of evil spirits, may 
 be illustrated by the following tale of a Buttery 
 Spirit, extracted from Thomas Heywood : — 
 
 An ancient and virtuous monk came to visit 
 his nephew, an innkeeper, and, after other dis- 
 course, enquired into his circumstances. Mine 
 
 " Then I would never tire, Janet, 
 
 In elfish land to dwell ; 
 But aye at every seven years, 
 
 They pay the teind to hell ; 
 And I am sae fat, and fair of flesh, 
 
 1 fear 'twill be mysell. 
 
 " This night is Hallowe'en, Janet, 
 
 The morn is Hallo wday; 
 And, gin ye dare your true love win, 
 
 Ye ha'e na time to stay. 
 
 "The night it is good Hallowe'en, 
 
 When fairy folk will ride ; 
 And they, that wad their true love win, 
 
 At Miles Cross they mauu bide." 
 
 " But how shall I thee ken, Tamlane ? 
 
 Or how shall I thee knaw, 
 Amang so many unearthly knights, 
 
 The like I never saw ? " 
 
 host confessed, that, although he practised all 
 the unconscionable tricks of his trade, he was still 
 miserably poor. The monk shook his head, and 
 asked to see his buttery, or larder. As they 
 looked into it, he rendered visible to the aston- 
 ished host an immense goblin, whose paunch, 
 and whole appearance, bespoke his being gorged 
 with food, and who, nevertheless, was gorman- 
 dizing at the innkeeper's expense, emptying 
 whole shelves of food, and washing it down with 
 entire hogsheads of liquor. " To the depredation 
 of this visitor will thy viands be exposed, " quoth 
 the uncle, "until thou slialt abandon fraud, and 
 false reckonings." The monk returned in a year. 
 The host having turned over a new leaf, and given 
 Christian rr.easu:e to his customers, was now a 
 thriving man. When they again inspected the 
 larder, they saw the same spirit, but wofully re- 
 duced in size, and in vain attempting to reach 
 at the full plates and bottles, which stood around 
 him; starving, in short, like Tantalus, in the 
 midst of plenty. Honest Heywood sums up the 
 tale thus : — 
 
 In this discourse, far be it we should mean 
 Spirits by meat are fatted made, or iean; 
 Yet certain 'tis, by Gad's permission, they 
 May, over goods extorted, Lear like sway. 
 
 All such as study fraud, and practise evil, 
 Do only starve themselves to plumpe the devill. 
 Btterarchie of the Blessed Angels, p. 577. 
 

 
 452 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 
 " The first company, that passes by, { 
 
 i Cast your green mantle over me— 
 
 
 
 Say na, and let them gae ; 
 
 I'll be myself again." 
 
 
 
 The next company, that passes by, 
 
 
 
 
 Say na, and do right sae ; 
 
 Gloomy, gloomy, was the night, 
 
 
 
 The third company, that passes by, 
 
 And eiry f was the way, 
 
 
 
 Than I'll be ane o* thae. 
 
 As fair Janet, in her green mantle, 
 To Miles Cross she did gae. 
 
 
 
 " First let pass the black, Janet, 
 
 
 
 
 And syne let pass the brown ; 
 
 The heavens were black, the night was 
 
 
 
 But grip ye to the milk-white steed, 
 
 dark, 
 
 
 
 And pu' the rider down. 
 
 And dreary was the place ; 
 But Janet stood, with eager wish, 
 
 
 
 " For I ride on the milk-white steed, 
 
 Her lover to embrace. 
 
 
 
 And aye nearest the town ; 
 
 
 
 
 Because I was a christened knight, 
 
 Betwixt the hours of twelve and one, 
 
 
 
 They gave me that renown. 
 
 A north wind tore the bent; 
 And straight she heard strange elritch 
 
 
 
 "My right hand will be gloved, Janet, 
 
 sounds 
 
 
 
 My left hand will be bare ; 
 
 Upon that wind which went. 
 
 
 
 And these the tokens I gi'e thee, 
 
 
 
 
 Nae doubt I will be there. 
 
 About the dead hour o' the night, 
 She heard the bridles ring ; 
 
 
 
 " They'll turn me in your arms, Janet, 
 
 And Janet was as glad o' that, 
 
 
 
 An adder and a snake ; 
 
 As any earthly thing ! 
 
 
 
 But had me fast, let me not pass, 
 
 
 
 
 Gin ye wad be my ma ike. 
 
 Their oaten pipes blew wondrous shrill, 
 The hemlock small blew clear ; 
 
 
 
 " They'll turn me in your arms, Janet, 
 
 And louder notes from hemlock large, 
 
 
 
 An adder and an ask ; 
 
 And bog -reed struck the ear; 
 
 
 
 They'll turn me in your arms, Janet, 
 
 But solemn sounds, or sober thoughts, 
 
 
 
 A bale * that burns fast. 
 
 The Fairies cannot bear. 
 
 
 
 " They'll turn me in your arms, Janet, 
 
 They sing, inspired with love and joy, 
 
 
 
 A red-hot gad o' aim ; 
 
 Like sky-larks in the air ; 
 
 
 
 But had me fast, let me not pass, 
 
 Of solid sense, or thought that's grave, 
 
 
 
 For I'll do you no harm. 
 
 You'll find no traces there. 
 
 
 
 " First dip me in a stand o' milk, 
 
 Fair Janet stood, with mind unmoved, 
 
 
 
 And then in a stand o' water ; 
 
 The dreary heath upon ; 
 
 
 
 But had me fast, let me not pass— 
 
 And louder, louder wax'd the sound, 
 
 
 
 I'll be your bairn's father. 
 
 As they came riding on. 
 
 
 
 "And, next, they'll shape me in your arms, 
 
 Will o' Wisp before them went, 
 
 
 
 A tod, but and an eel ; 
 
 Sent forth a twinkling light ; 
 
 
 
 But had me fast, nor let me gang. 
 
 And soon she saw the Fairy bands 
 
 
 
 As you do love me weel. 
 
 All riding in her sight. 
 
 
 
 "They'll shape me in your arms, Janet, 
 
 And first gaed by the black black steed 
 
 
 
 A dove, but and a swan; 
 
 And then gaed by the brown ; 
 
 
 
 And, last, they'll shape me in your arms, 
 
 But fast she gript the milk-white steed, 
 
 
 
 A mother-naked man : 
 
 And pu'd the rider down. 
 
 
 * Bale— A faggot. { 
 
 A f Eiry — Producing superstitious dread. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
FAIRY MYTHOLOGY. 
 
 453 
 
 She pu'd him frae the milk-white steed, 
 
 And loot the bridle fa' ; 
 And up there raise an erlish * cry — 
 
 " He's won amang us a' J" 
 
 They shaped him in fair Janet's arms, 
 
 An esk, (• but and an adder ; 
 She held him fast in every shape — 
 
 To be her bairn's father. 
 
 They shaped him in her arms at last, 
 
 A mother-naked man; 
 She wrapt him in her green mantle, 
 
 And sae her true love wan. 
 
 Up then spake the Queen o' Fairies, 
 
 Out o' bush o' broom — 
 " She that has borrowed young Tamlane, 
 
 Has gotten a stately groom." 
 
 Up then spake the Queen of Fairies, 
 
 Out o' a bush of rye — 
 " She's ta'en awa' the bonniest knight 
 
 In a' my cumpanie. 
 
 " But had I kenn'd, Tamlane," she says, 
 " A lady wad borrowed thee — 
 
 I wad ta'en out thy twa gray een, 
 Put in twa een o' tree. 
 
 "Had I but kenn'd, Tamlane," she says, 
 " Before ye came frae hame — 
 
 I wad tane out your heart o' flesh, 
 Put in a heart o' stane. 
 
 " Had I but had the wit yestreen, 
 
 That I ha'e coft J the day— 
 I'd paid my kane seven times to hell, 
 
 Ere you'd been won away !" 
 
 [This fragment is from "A New Book of Old 
 Ballads," Edinburgh, 1844. It differs consider- 
 ably from the preceding.] 
 
 ! all you ladies young and gay, 
 
 Who are so sweet and fair ; 
 Do not go into Chaster's wood, 
 
 For Tomlin will be there. 
 
 * Erlish— Elritch, ghastly. 
 f Esk— Newt. % Coft— Bought. 
 
 Fair Margaret sat in her bonny bower, 
 
 Sewing her silken seam ; 
 And wished to be in Chaster's wood, 
 
 Among the leaves so green. 
 
 She let the seam fall to her foot, 
 
 The needle to her toe ; 
 And she has gone to Chaster's wood, 
 
 As fast as she could go. 
 
 When she began to pull the flowers, 
 She pull'd both red and green ; 
 
 Then by did come, and by did go, 
 Said, " Fair maid let abene. 
 
 " O ! why pluck you the flowers, lady, 
 Or why climb you the tree ; 
 
 Or why come ye to Chaster's wood 
 Without the leave of me ?" 
 
 " ! I will pull the flowers," she said, 
 
 " Or I will break the tree, 
 For Chaster's wood it is my own ; 
 
 I'll ask no leave at thee." 
 
 He took her by the milk-white hand, 
 And by the grass-green sleeve ; 
 
 And laid her down upon the flowers, 
 At her he ask'd no leave. 
 
 The lady blush'd and sourly frown'd. 
 And she did think great shame ; 
 
 Says, "If you are a gentleman, 
 You will tell me your name." 
 
 " First they did call me Jack," he said, 
 " And then they call'd me John ; 
 
 But since I liv'd in the fairy court, 
 Tomlin has always been my name. 
 
 " So do not pluck that flower, lady, 
 That has these pimples gray ; 
 
 They would destroy the bonny babe 
 That we've gotten in our play." 
 
 "0 ! tell to me, Tomlin," she said, 
 
 " And tell it to me soon ; 
 Was you ever at a good church door, 
 
 Or got you Christendom ?" 
 
 " O ! I have been at good church door, 
 
 And oft her yetts within ; 
 I was the laird of Foulis's son, 
 
 The heir of all his land. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 45-4 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 "But it fell once upon a day, & But hold me fast, let me not go, 
 
 
 
 As hunting 1 did ride; 
 
 Or from your goupen break. 
 
 
 
 As I rode east and west yon hill, 
 
 
 
 
 There woe did me betide. 
 
 " I'll grow into your arms two, 
 Like iron in strong fire; 
 
 
 
 " 1 drowsy, drowsy as I was, 
 
 But hold me fast, let me not go, 
 
 
 
 Dead sleep upon me fell; 
 
 Then you'll have your desire." 
 
 
 
 The Queen of fairies she was there, 
 
 
 
 
 And took me to hersel. 
 
 And its next night into Miles Moss, 
 Fair Margaret has gone ; 
 
 
 
 "The morn at even is Hallowe'en, 
 
 When lo she stands beside Rides Cross, 
 
 
 
 Our fairy court will ride 
 
 Between twelve hours and one. 
 
 
 
 Through England and Scotland both, 
 
 
 
 
 Through all the world wide ; 
 
 There's holy water in her hand, 
 
 
 
 And if that ye would me borrow, 
 
 She casts a compass round; 
 
 
 
 At Rides Cross ye may bide. 
 
 And presently a fairy band 
 Comes riding o'er the mound. 
 
 
 
 "You may go into the Miles Moss, 
 
 
 
 
 Between twelve hours and one; 
 
 
 
 
 Take holy water in your hand, 
 
 
 
 
 And cast a compass round. 
 
 
 
 
 "The first court that comes along, 
 
 ®]jje ^jrloaragwe MutfyU. 
 
 
 
 You'll let them all pass by; 
 
 
 
 
 The next court that comes along, 
 
 [A Ballad by James Telfer, with an Intro- 
 
 
 
 Salute them reverently. 
 
 duction by Robert White, of Newcastle-upon- 
 Tyne ; printed in the legendary portion of " The 
 
 
 
 " The next court that comes along, 
 
 Local Historian's Table Book for Northumber- 
 
 
 
 Is clad in robes of green ; 
 
 land and Durham, 1843." The ballad itself ori- 
 
 
 
 And it's the head court of them all, 
 
 ginally appeared in a small volume, published at 
 
 
 
 For in it rides the Queen. 
 
 Jedburgh in 1824.] 
 
 
 
 " And I upon a milk white steed, 
 
 [Although the light of knowledge has, to a 
 
 
 
 With a gold star in my crown ; 
 
 considerable degree, dispersed innumerable sha- 
 
 
 
 Because I am an earthly man, 
 
 dows which the vivid imagination of our ances- 
 
 • 
 
 
 I'm next the Queen in renown. 
 
 tors invested with the attributes of reality, a 
 belief in Fairy Mythology still lingers with those 
 
 
 
 "Then seizft upon me with a spring, 
 
 who reside in the unfrequented recesses of the 
 
 
 
 Then to the ground I'll fa'; 
 
 Border Hills. Simple, pious men, attending 
 
 
 
 And then you'll hear a rueful cry, 
 
 their hirsels, and occasionally carrying the bible 
 
 
 
 That Tomlin is awa'. 
 
 in their plaid neufcs, will, on going their rounds, 
 point out some green knoll or level haugh bounded 
 
 
 
 " Then I'll grow in your arms two, 
 
 by a slender brook, where the "good neighbours " 
 
 
 
 Like to a savage wild ; 
 
 were, in former times, wont to hold their joyous 
 
 
 
 But hold me fast, let me not go, 
 
 revelry. Not one may acknowledge he ever saw 
 
 
 
 I'm father of your child. 
 
 a fairy ; but many will admit that such beings 
 have been seen : and, rather than yield up this 
 
 
 
 " I'll grow into your arms two 
 
 point of credence, some would even be more ready 
 
 
 
 Like an adder, or a snake ; 
 
 to swerve from faith in matters of infinitely higher 
 
 
 
 But hold me fast, let me not go, 
 
 importance. Much light, I am aware, has beea 
 
 
 
 I'll be your earthly maik. 
 
 thrown on this department of superstition by the 
 pens of far abler commentators; yet as I intend 
 
 
 
 " I'll grow into your arms two, 
 
 to make thereon some additional observations, by 
 
 
 
 Like ice on frozen lake ^ 
 
 ?way of illustrating both the following ballad and 
 
 
 
 
 
FAIRY MYTHOLOGY. 
 
 455 
 
 similar pieces of fiction, I shall endeavour to 
 confine myself to those opinions of the subject 
 which prevailed on the boundaries of England 
 and Scotland, handling them, if possible, in a 
 way that may possess some slight interest to the 
 generality of readers. 
 
 Without either searching from whence the 
 word fairy was derived, or noticing the splendid 
 illusions which have been made to the elves by 
 nearly all our old masters of British poetry, I 
 may say they were considered to be little mee, 
 slightly formed beings, beautifully proportioned 
 in limb and stature, having fine flaxen or yellow 
 hair waving over their shoulders ; and they chiefly 
 wore green mantles, although the robes of those 
 who haunted moory districts, assumed a brown- 
 ish hue, so as to be nearly uniform with the 
 appearance of these upland places. They were 
 of different sexes, and the dress of the females, 
 like that of mortals, varied in shape from male 
 apparel, yet it retained almost the same colour. 
 In their raids or journeys, which took place to- 
 wards and after night-fall, they mounted little, 
 dapper, cream -coloured horses, neatly saddled 
 and bridled, with small bells attached either to 
 the reins or mane, the shrill tinkling sound of 
 which, as the procession hastened onward, 
 reached the human ear at a great distance. 
 Neither bank, furze, wall nor stream stayed 
 them, nor could the slightest trace of the horse's 
 foot-prints be seen ; even their own tiny feet in 
 the course of their gambollings left no mark 
 whatever, save in the meadow rings in which 
 they danced roundels to their wild music, under 
 the mellow moonlight. The times, when they 
 were most likely to be seen, were either in the 
 gray gloaming, or in the paly light at break of 
 day. On the evening preceding the first of May, 
 they were supposed to possess the power of in- 
 flicting evil in various ways on those luckless 
 wights from whom they had sustained injury, or 
 who had treated or spoken of them disrespect- 
 fully ; and on Hallowe'en, or the night before 
 Roodsmass, a kind of anniversary or general 
 meeting of the whole fraternity usually took 
 place, after which it was no uncommon circum- 
 stance if they mounted on horseback, and tra- 
 versed a very large tract of country in a marvel- 
 lously short space of time. 
 
 They resided chiefly in small green hills, slop- 
 ing gently to the south; the openings to their 
 places of abode were undistinguishable by mor- 
 tals, and a soft mild light without the aid of 
 lamp, moon, or sun was shed continually thi ough- 
 
 4fe out their halls and chambers, which, in point of 
 1 1 decoration, outvied the gorgeous magnificence of 
 1 1 Eastern palaces. Sometimes they preferred to 
 live near, and indeed almost under human habi- 
 tations ; but they were more at home when at a 
 distance from mankind, and they held their 
 meetings of merry revelry always in wild unfre- 
 quented places. Beautiful and romantic spots, 
 such as a smooth opening in a forest, a piece of 
 level sward with a hoary hawthorn in the centre, 
 the vicinity of a gushing spring surrounded by 
 verdant banks, a wild sequestered linn, or the 
 side of a burn whose mimic waves, twittering 
 over rock and channel, produced everlasting mu- 
 sic, were with them all favourite haunts. Even 
 in our own day, many places are pointed out as 
 having formerly been the chief resorts of the elfin 
 people. A small stream called the Elwin or Al- 
 lan which falls into the Tweed from the north, a 
 little above Melrose, was a noted locality ; so also 
 was Beaumont water on the north of Cheviot, 
 j and the gravelly beds of both are remarkable for 
 a kind of small stones of a rounded or spiral 
 form, as if produced from the action of a lathe, 
 called " Fairy cups " and " dishes." The chief 
 haunt in Liddesdale was a stream which empties 
 itself into the Liddell from the south, called, 
 Harden burn. On the north side of the village 
 of Gunnerton in Northumberland is a small burn 
 in the rocky channel of which are many curious 
 perforations, called by the country people " Fairy 
 kirns :" similar indentations are likewise observ- 
 able in the course of the Hart near Rothley. In 
 Redesdale also, as our beloved and venerable 
 Bard sings, * the "train" were accustomed to 
 dance at the Howestane-mouth, near Rochestor, 
 and at the Dow-craig top, a solitary spot about 
 a mile north of Otterburne. In the county of 
 Durham tneve is a large hill near Billingham 
 and a hillock near Bishopton, both of which 
 places were noted formerly as being haunted by 
 fairies. 
 
 Several places, likewise, derive their names 
 from the circumstance of having been repeatedly 
 the scenes of fairy-pastime. According to Rit- 
 son, " Ferry-hill," a stage between Durham and 
 Darlington, is a corruption of Fairy-hill." In 
 Northumberland, the Dancing Hall near Calla- 
 ley, the Dancing Green at Debdon in Rothbury 
 forest, and the Elf Hills near Cambo, point out 
 
 « See " Lay of the Reedwater Minstrel by Robt. 
 ^ Roxby. Newcastle, 1809." 
 
450 
 
 bOoTTISR BAJLLAKS. 
 
 how firmly amongst our fathers the belief in 
 fairy mythology was established. Even in the 
 present day, there are many wells into which, 
 especially if water be drawn therefrom, a pin or 
 trifling article is usually dropped, as an oblation 
 either to the elves, or the invisible guardians of 
 the spot. 
 
 So far the fairy folks may be considered as a 
 class of beings entirely distinct from and alto- 
 gether free of the slightest taint of human na- 
 ture; but superstition has attributed to them 
 several properties, which are indeed nothing 
 more than detached links of the great chain 
 which circumscribes mortality. Possessing the 
 power of becoming visible at pleasure, many 
 instances are on record to show that they kept 
 up more or less a continual intercourse with 
 human beings ; and were even so very correct in 
 their dealings, particularly in a domestic point 
 of view, that they acquired the general designa- 
 tion of the " good neighbours." They sometimes 
 came even to houses, and asked for employment 
 — for flax to spin or other work of a similar de- 
 scription ; and on obtaining it, they never failed 
 to perform their engagements both speedily, and 
 so as to afford the employer the utmost satisfac- 
 tion. They were also much addicted to borrow 
 such articles as are chiefly required about a house 
 — meal, for instance, kitchen utensils, &c, and 
 always observed the greatest punctuality in mak- 
 ing honourable restitution. It seldom occurred 
 that, in any request of this kind, they met with 
 a refusal; and indeed if they did, ample ven- 
 geance was sure to descend on whoever mani- 
 fested such churlish conduct. They had also 
 their feasts. A story is told of a person coming 
 upon them when they were about to partake of 
 one : they invited him to stay, and his welcome 
 was most cordial. The viands were excellent, 
 but had a singular flavour about them, such as 
 he never before experienced, and which he could 
 not possibly describe. Hence it will be seen that 
 their processions on horseback, their amuse- 
 ments, their meetings at stated periods, their 
 places of abode, their difference of sexes and 
 procreation of children, their wants, manners, 
 dress and appearance — all bore a collateral re- 
 semblance to, and were closely in imitation of 
 what is practised by the human race. Indeed 
 they seem to have possessed a continual desire to 
 change their own offspring for those of mortals ; 
 and, therefore, the chief fears entertained anent 
 them arose from the belief that they stole away 
 iCnchristened means, substituting at the same time 
 
 A1 their own tiny, sickly children : hence, motherr. 
 and nurses wers accustomed to be particularly 
 careful of new-born infants. When the attempt 
 to carry away a scion of the human stock was 
 successful, the elves were, however, so liberal as 
 to tend it with great kindness, and, by degrees, 
 they brought it to partake almost of their own 
 qualities : it was invisible, and as it grew up, 
 they initiated it into their mysteries — in short it 
 lived and was treated as one of themselves. On 
 the other hand, the changeling was a wearisome, 
 discontented, yammering creature : the mother 
 who reared it had neither " night's rest nor day's 
 ease ;" and when it had lain years in the cradle, 
 it was merely a cunning, ricketty, stunted, sem- 
 blance of humanity. » If the mother came to 
 know that it belonged to the invisible world, 
 tricks and spells were practised to get quit of the 
 thing, and receive back her own child ; but as 
 these varied considerably, it is perhaps unneces- 
 sary here tobring them before the reader. Salves, 
 seeds and herbs of various kinds were likewise 
 supposed to be efficacious in enabling the pos- 
 sessor both to discover the fairy people, and to 
 ward off their offensive designs ; yet as an enu- 
 meration of these, and the modes of their appli- 
 cation would lead us beyond the limits we intend 
 to occupy, they must also, for the present, be 
 passed over. 
 
 Tradition likewise ascribes to the fairy folk the 
 charge of not only falling in love with the finest 
 and fairest specimens of the sons and daughters 
 of men, but of carrying them away to their own 
 regions, and detaining them there for an inde- 
 
 * At Byerholm, near Newcastleton in Liddesdale, 
 within the last twenty years, a dwarf called Robert 
 Klliot, but more frequently "Little Hobbie o' the 
 Castleton" was alive, and reputed to be a fairy change- 
 ling. He was a most irascible creature; and when 
 insulted, as he frequently was, by boys and others, he 
 never hesitated a moment to draw his gully or dirk 
 for the purpose of sacrificing them ; but as he was 
 woefully short legged, they generally escaped by flight. 
 He was revengeful, and by no means deficient in 
 courage. On hearing that a neighbour, "William Scott 
 of Kirndean, an able, stout, brave borderer, who stood 
 6ft. 3in. high, had been spreading reports calculated 
 to injure his reputation, the little man invited him to 
 his house— took him up stairs to a room in which, 
 were a brace of pistols, with two swords, and, point- 
 ing to the weapons, promptly demanded satisfaction 
 for the offence. Scott adroitly backed to the door- 
 got it open and hastily retreated, much to the disap- 
 pointment of his host. He confessed afterwards that 
 powerful as he was, his heart nearly failed him when 
 the deformed being so suddenly disclosed his plan of 
 *H9 gentlemanly adjustment. 
 
FAIRY MYTHOLOGY. 
 
 finite length of time. A strong desire to sleep 
 would overtake the young man or young woman; 
 and if he or she lay down and slumbered within 
 the bounds of certain charmed rings, either 
 w uld, on awaking, discover they had been con- 
 veyed to fairy land. If any friend or relation 
 volunteered to win them back, the feat, accord- 
 ing to current opinion, had to be performed on 
 the evening before Holy-rood (14th September) 
 within a year and day from the time when they 
 were taken away ; and to be successful, extraor- 
 dinary coolness and address were requisite. If 
 no attempt at recovery was made, the settlers in 
 fairy land were, after the expiration of seven 
 years, allowed to return occasionally to the worldj 
 during a similar period of time ; after whicn, 
 they very rarely quitted their adopted country. 
 Still, however pleasing and agreeable its verdant 
 lawns, shady groves, and delightful valleys may 
 have been, together with the soothing, unaffected 
 courtesy of its inhabitants, those who were thus 
 changed in nature are said to have retained the 
 consciousness that they were not merely beyond 
 the pale of salvation, but were liable, at certain 
 periods, to be delivered up as a sacrifice to the 
 arch-fiend himself: and this is assigned as one of 
 the causes why the elves, to save their own num- 
 bers, were desirous to retain amongst them vari- 
 ous members of the human family. Instances, 
 however, of adults being taken away were rare ; 
 and the elves were scarcely ever dreaded on that 
 aec 'Unt. Yet such a point in the popular creed 
 deserves to be noticed, from its beautiful adapta- 
 tion to the purposes of fiction, and the way in 
 which authors have employed it in the construc- 
 tion of some of che finest machinery in the whole 
 range of romantic literature. 
 
 The number and exertions of the clergy, and 
 the general dissemination of the Scriptures, were, 
 it is said, the leading causes which tended to the 
 banishment of the fairies from this country. 
 Whenever a divine stationed himself on a fine 
 green knoll, or within some sylvan boundary, 
 and put up prayers to heaven, amidst his hearers, 
 for the downfall of Satan and his emissaries, the 
 little invisible people, however they might be 
 attached to such localities, henceforth bade them 
 adieu for ever. To the spread of the gospel, may 
 also be added the circulation of knowledge, and 
 the advancement of mathematical learning which 
 so admirably qualifies the intellect, by inductive 
 reasoning, to investigate and distinguish between 
 error and truth. Many people also dip slightly 
 into the fountain of knowledge, instead of drink- 
 
 457 
 
 ^feing deeply of its wave ; and this too often engen- 
 ders a species of doubt and denial of all essences 
 or things which cannot be distinctly either felt or 
 seen. These, with probably other causes, drove 
 from amongst us the light-footed, aerial elves, 
 who for many ages inhabited our pastoral soli- 
 tudes, and which tradition says they quitted with 
 the utmost regret. On the night when the chief 
 number were supposed to take their departure, 
 the air was filled from " dusky eve " till " dewy 
 morn " with wailing and lamentation. 
 
 After the general dispersion of the fairies, a 
 few would seem to have remained here even until 
 a comparatively recent date. Having already 
 entered upon this subject at considerable length, 
 T may be justified in bringing together some no- 
 tices chiefly illustrative either of them, or what 
 they were supposed to perform, which have been 
 attested by veritable people, the greater number 
 of whom were living within the memory of man. 
 1 know that modern examples of this kind lie 
 under the disadvantage of having to be placed, 
 
 I like a picture or cartoon, nearer to the spectator 
 than the distance at which they are best seen, 
 and must therefore be more palpable than could 
 be wished ; yet the reader will, it is hoped, be 
 liberal enough to make sufficient allowance for 
 the experiment. They are the last, faint glimpses 
 caught of a system, which to me, at least, is not 
 without attraction ; and they seem like the re- 
 maining broken and lonely columns of a ruined 
 
 j temple, observed when day has departed, and 
 immediately before they are shrouded in the 
 shadow of night. 
 
 On a fine summer evening as a clergyman, a 
 resident of Redesdale in Northumberland, was 
 returning on horseback from the Whitelee, and 
 had advanced nearly half way between that place 
 and Lumsden, he saw, at a short distance to the 
 right before him, a party of the fairies forming a 
 ring and about to commence the tripping of a 
 gentle roundel. Music accompanied them, and 
 its strains were delightfully mingled with the 
 babbling of the brook which lapsed away beyond 
 them, within a good bow-shot from the road. 
 He turned his horse's head, and rode towards the 
 place ; but in advancing, he obsrved the objects 
 of his curiosity betake themselves to flight over 
 a slight bank which intervened between him and 
 the stream, and on arriving at a spot from which 
 the whole | lot of ground could be distinguished, 
 they were no wh re to be seen. No reasoning or 
 argument afterwards could shake the reverend 
 
 V gentleman's opinion that " there are more things 
 
458 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 in Heaven and Earth than are dreamt of in our 
 philosophy." 
 
 Tosson water corn-mill, a little above Roth- 
 bury, was occupied some time before the close of 
 the last century, by a person of the name of 
 Sproat. His wife, Tibby, who lived to a great 
 age, often related the following incidents, espe- 
 cially if the existence of fairies came to be dis- 
 cussed in her presence ; and those who knew her 
 upright disposition, would at any time, vouch 
 for her strict adherence to what she conceived to 
 be truth. "Ney, ninnies!" she would say, 
 "Aw'll nit believe but there's fairies, though 
 they dinnit kythe to e'en like ours. Aw mind 
 nicely o' what happent, yin bonnie Spring 
 gloamin', when we hed Tosson mill. The gude- 
 man set off the waitur, seest tu, an' just cam' in 
 to get femily wurship : weel, ney seunur hed he 
 ta'en the beuk, than the mill was set a gannin. 
 He leukt at me as if he knaw'd the maitur; but 
 nevur stoppt wuv what he had i' hand, till we j 
 raise frev prayer. By this time the mill was 
 stannin again, an' efturwaitin for haufan hour, 
 or say, he went in, an' faund a' reet as he hed 
 left it, except that the moutar dish was nearly 
 fouiv a' kinds iv grain butyits. He pat it through 
 the mill : Aw beayk't a cake wuv the meal ; an' 
 we a' ate on't, except a dog 'at belang'd yin o' 
 the lads. It leukt up i' wur faces, an' wadnt 
 touch a bit; and, whithur elf-shot or no', nit 
 yin could tell, but the yamphiu thing dee't the 
 neist day. 
 
 " Anithur time the gudeman was plewin out 
 at yin iv the hie fields; and when the gadsman 
 cam' tiv the landin', what soud he see but the 
 greatur pairt iv a cake iv brede, lyin' just where 
 the owsen turnt! He teukt up ; it leukt clean 
 like: the gudeman an' him baith tasted it, an' 
 gae the owsen pairt tey. Od, but yin o' them 
 turnt away its head, an' wad hev nane, for a' 
 they could dey. Weel, that neet, seest tu, the 
 animal grew bad, and dee't within twey days, — 
 a wairnin' tiv us a' that neythur body nor beast 
 soud be owre positive i' their ain way. Nevur 
 doubt, ninnies, iv theye things : doutin' leads 
 aylways to muckle ill, an' ney geud !" 
 
 Thus it will be seen how readily any event or 
 circumstance, which was difficult to reconcile 
 with natural causes, might be ascribed to fairy 
 agency ; and had the following inexplicable oc- 
 currence caugh t the ear of any other person than 
 one of strong mind and strict veracity, what 
 excellent scope it would have furnished towards 
 the shadowing forth of supernatural existence [ ijij 
 
 An old shepherd who lived at a solitary spot 
 called the Swyrefoot on Hyndlee farm in Rule- 
 water, Roxburgshire, had, on a time, the charge 
 of a hirsel of new-speaned lambs. He arose from 
 his bed one fine summer night, and went to the 
 end of the house which stood on the brink of a 
 linn, to listen if the lambs were rising, which, 
 by their bleating, he could easily ascertain. ^A 11 
 was still and quiet in the direction where they 
 lay ; " but," said he, " I heard a great pliteh- 
 platching as it were o' some hundreds o' little 
 feet i' the stream aboon the house. At first I 
 was inclined to think it was the lambs ; but then 
 the gray light o' a simmer's night loot me see the 
 waiter clearly that nae lambs were there — indeed 
 I could see naething ava. I stayed, an' stood 
 listenin' an* lookin', no kennin' what to make 
 o't, when a' at yince the plitch-platching' ga'e 
 owre, an* then there was sic a queer eiry nicher, 
 as o' some hundreds o' creatures laughin', cam' 
 frae the upper linn, as left me i' nae doubt that 
 if fairies were still i' the land, they were at the 
 Swyre-foot that night." 
 
 I come now to the last illustration of this sub- 
 ject, and I account it not the less important, 
 since it affords proof that the ground work of the 
 following ballad is in strict keeping with popular 
 superstition in the upper parts of Roxburghshire. 
 I give it in the words of another old shepherd, 
 Robert Oliver, by name, who lived at Southdeau 
 in Jed-water, and died about a dozen years ago. 
 "Speakin' o' Fairies," said Robie, "I can tell 
 you about the vera last fairy that ever was seen 
 hereaway. When my faither, Peter Oliver, was 
 a young man, he lived at Hyndleee and herdit 
 the Brockalaw. Weel, it was the custom to milk 
 yowes i' thsie days, and my faither was buchtin' 
 the Brockalaw yowes to twae young, lish, clever 
 hizzies ae night after sunset. Nae little ' damn ' 
 and gabbin,' as the sang sings, gaed on amang 
 the threesome, Ise warrant ye, till at last, just a; 
 it begoud to get faughish derk, my faither chanced 
 to look alang the lea at the head o' the bucht, 
 and what does he see but a little wee creaturie, 
 a' clad i' green, and wi' lang hair, yellow as 
 gowd, hingin' round its shoulders, comin' straight 
 for him, whyles gi'en a whink of a greet, and aye 
 atween hands raisin' a queer, unyirth y cry — 
 ' Ha' ye seen Hewie Millburn ? O ha' ye seen 
 Hewie Millburn ?' Instead o' making the crea- 
 turie ony answer, my faither sprang ower the 
 bucht flake to be near the lasses : he could only 
 say ' Bless us too, what's that ?' ' Ha, ha, Patie 
 lad ! ' quo' Bessie Elliot, a free-spoken Liddesdale 
 
FAIEY MYTHOLOGY. 
 
 459 
 
 hempy, 'there's a wife com'd for ye the night, -S 
 Patie lad.' ' A wife,' said my faither, ' may the 1 
 Lord keep me frae sic a wife as that ;' — and, as i 
 he confessed till his deein' day, he was at the 
 time in sic a fear that he fand every hair on his 
 head rise like the birses of a hurcheon. * "Weel, ' 
 there was nae mair said, and the creaturie — it 
 was nae bigger than a three year auld lassie, but. 
 feat and tight, lith and limb, as ony grown wo- 
 man, and its face was the doonright perfection 
 o' beauty; only there was something wild and 
 unyerthly in its e'en — they couldna be lookit at, 
 and less be describit — weel as I was sayin', it 
 didna molest them farther than it taiglet on 
 about thebuchte, ay now and then repeatin' its 
 cry, ' Ha' ye seen Hewie Millbum ?' and they 
 could come to nae other conclusion, than that 
 it had tint its companion. "When they left the 
 buchte, my faither and the lasses, it followed 
 them hame even into Hyndlee kitchen, where 
 the kitchen-woman offered it yowe brose, but it 
 wadna takeonything, and at last a near-do-weel 
 cowherd caliant made as if he wad grip it by the 
 nose wi' a pair o' reid het tangs, and it appeared 
 to be offendit, for it left the house and gaed 
 away down the burn side, crying its auld cry, 
 eeryer and waesomer than ever, till it came to a 
 bush o' seggs f where it sauntit an' never was 
 mair seen." 
 
 It is now necessary that these observations be 
 brought to a close. They occupy more space than 
 was at first intended ; and still, I confess I leave 
 them with regret. The will clings instinctively 
 to whatever in former days characterized the 
 land of our birth ; and what was told us in our 
 boyhood, and formed food for thoughts which 
 Taney moulded at will, seem, now that the nar- 
 rators are no more, like memorials " thrice hal- 
 lowed,'' for the sake of those who bequeathed 
 them. Indeed, so far am I swayed with this 
 feeling, that I would willingly exchange a few of 
 the dry, hard outlines of reality, which distin- 
 guish the present age, for some of the soft, rich, 
 mellow shades which a brilliant fancy threw so 
 enchantingly around the ideal objects of bygone 
 times. In the present day, the salutary influence 
 of imagination over human existence would ap- 
 pear to have almost lost its charm ; and what 
 else, except religion, can be more redolent of in- 
 tellectual enjoyment ? Amongst our forefathers, 
 it was like the breath of Spring to nature, 
 quickening into life not only " mute," but im- 
 
 Hedgehog. 
 
 t Sedges. 
 
 material "things ; " and if the leafless tree and 
 barren rock preserved then, as now, their ap- 
 pearance unchanged, they gave relief to the 
 luxuriance around them, rendering the greeu 
 blade and blossoming bough still more beautiful 
 and attractive.] 
 
 The sun was reid as a furnace mouthe, 
 As he sank on the Ettricke hyll ; 
 
 And gloamyne gatherit from the easte, 
 The dowye world to fill. 
 
 When bonnye Jeanye Eoole she milket the 
 I' the buchte aboon the lynne ; [yowe3 
 
 And they were wilde and ill to weare, 
 But the hindmost buchtfu' was inne. 
 
 milk them weil, my bonnye Jeanye Eoole, 
 
 The wylye shepherd could say, 
 And sing to me " The Kcache i' the Creel," 
 
 To put the tyme away. 
 
 It's fer owTe late at e'en, shepherd, 
 
 Eeplyed the maiden fair ; 
 The fairies wad hear, quo' bonny Jeanye Eoole, 
 
 And wi' louting my back is sair. 
 
 He's ta'en her round the middel sae sma', 
 "While the yowes ran bye between, 
 
 And out o' the buchte he's layd her down, 
 And all on the dewye green. 
 
 The star o' love i' the eastern lifto 
 
 "Was the only e'e they saw ; — 
 The only tongue that they might hear 
 
 "Was the lynne's deep murmuring fa". 
 
 who can tell of youthfu' love ! 
 
 O who can sing or say ! 
 It is a theme for minstrel meete, 
 
 And yet transcends his lay. 
 
 It is a thraldome, well I weene, 
 
 To hold the heart in sylke ; 
 It is a draught to craze the braine, 
 
 Yet mylder than the mylke. 
 
 sing me the sang, my bonnye Jeanye Eoole 
 Ji'ow, dearest, sing to me ! 
 
 The angels will listen at yon little holes, 
 And witness my vowes to thee. 
 
 1 mayna refuse, quo' bonnye Jeanye Eoole, 
 
 Sae weel ye can me winne 
 

 
 
 1 
 
 
 4 GO SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 
 And she satte in his armis, and sweetly she sang, i 
 
 V And round the boddome o' the lifte, 
 
 
 
 And her voice rang frae the lynne. 
 
 It rang the worild through, 
 And boomed against the milkye waye, 
 
 
 
 The liltings o' that sylver voice 
 
 Afore it closed its mou'. 
 
 
 
 Might weel the wits beguile ; 
 
 
 
 
 They clearer were than shepherd's pipe 
 
 Then neiste it raised its note and sang 
 
 
 
 Heard o'er the hylls a mile. 
 
 Sae witchinglye and sweete, 
 The moudies powtelit out o' the yirth, 
 
 
 
 The liltings o' that sylver voice, 
 
 And kyssed the synger's feete. 
 
 
 
 That rose an' fell so free, 
 
 
 
 
 They sifter were than lover's late 
 
 The waizle dunne frae the auld grey cairn, 
 
 
 
 Heard o'er a sleeping sea. 
 
 The theiffe foulmart came nighe ; 
 The hurcheon raxed his scory chafts, 
 
 
 
 The liltings o' that sylver voice 
 
 And gepit wi' girning joye. 
 
 
 
 Were melody sae true ; 
 They sprang up-through the welkin wide 
 To the heaven's key-stane blue. 
 
 The todde he came frae the Screthy holes, 
 
 And courit fou cunninglye ; 
 The stinkan brocke wi' his lang lank lyske, 
 
 Shotte up his gruntle to see. 
 
 
 
 Sing on, sing on, my bonnye Jeanye Boole, 
 
 
 
 
 Sing on your sang sae sweet; — 
 
 The kidde and martyne ranne a race 
 
 
 
 Now Chryste me save ! quo' the bonnye lass, 
 
 Amang the dewye feme ; 
 
 
 
 Whence comes that waesome greete ? 
 
 The mawkin gogglet i' the synger's face, 
 Th' enchaunting notes to learne. 
 
 
 
 They turned their gaze to the Mourning Cleuch, 
 
 
 
 
 Where the greeting seemed to be, 
 
 The pert little eskis they curlit their tails, 
 
 
 
 And there beheld a little greene bairne 
 
 And danced a myrthsome reele ; 
 
 
 
 Come o'er the darksome lea. 
 
 The tade held up her auld dunne lufes, 
 She lykit the sang sae weele. 
 
 
 
 And aye it raised a waesome greete, 
 
 
 
 
 Butte and an eiry crye, 
 
 The herone came frae the Witch-pule tree, 
 
 
 
 Untille it came to the buchte fauld ende, 
 
 The houlet frae Deadwood-howe ; 
 
 
 
 Where the wynsome payr did lye. 
 
 The auld gray corbie hoverit aboone, 
 
 While tears downe his cheeks did flowe. 
 
 
 
 It lookit around with its snail-cap eyne, 
 
 
 
 
 That made their hearts to grou, , 
 
 The yowes they lap out owre the buchte, 
 
 
 
 Then turned upright its grass-green face, 
 
 And skippit up and downe ; 
 
 
 
 And opened its goblyne mou' ; 
 
 And bonnye Jeanye Roole, i' the shepherd's 
 Fell back-out-owre in a swoone. [armis, 
 
 
 
 Then raised a youle, sae loude and lange— 
 
 Sae yerlish and sae shrille, 1 
 
 As dirled up throwe the twinkling holes 
 The second lifte untille. 
 
 It might be glamourye or not, 
 
 In sooth I cannot say, 
 It was the witching time of night — 
 
 The hour o' gloamyne gray, 
 And she that lay in her loveris armis 
 
 
 
 I tell the tale as tolde to me, 
 
 I wis was a weel-faured Maye. 
 
 
 
 I swear so by my faye ; 
 
 
 
 
 And whether or not of glamourye, 
 
 Her pulses all were beatinge trewe, 
 
 
 
 In soothe I cannot say. 
 
 Her heart was loupinge lighte, 
 Unto that wondrous melody — 
 
 
 
 That youling yowte sae yerlish was, 
 
 That simple song of mighte. 
 
 
 
 Butte and sae lang and loude, 
 
 
 
 
 The rysing moone like saffron grewe, 
 
 
 
 
 And holed ahint a cloude. « 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 FAIRY MYTHOLOGY. 4GI 
 
 The Songe. 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 where is tinye Hewe ? 
 
 %\\%m ©logs*. 
 
 
 where is little Lenne? 
 
 
 
 And where is bonny Lu ? 
 
 tFaoM Mr Jamieson's collection, where it is 
 
 
 And Menie o' the glenne ? 
 
 said to be given from the recitation of Mrs 
 
 
 And where's the place o' rest t 
 
 BboWN.] 
 
 
 The ever changing hame — 
 
 
 
 Is it the gowan's breast, 
 
 alison Gross, that lives in yon tower, 
 
 
 Or 'neath the bell o' faem ? 
 
 The ugliest witch in the north countrie, 
 
 
 Chorus — Ay lu Ian, Ian dil y'u, &c. 
 
 Has trysted me ae day up till her bower, 
 And mony fair speech she made to me. 
 
 
 The fairest rose you finde, 
 
 
 
 May have a taint withinne ; 
 
 She straiked my head, and she kembed my hair, 
 
 
 The flower o' womankinde, 
 
 And she set me down saftly on her knee, 
 
 
 May ope her breast to sinne. — 
 
 Says, — " Gin ye will he my lemman sae true, 
 
 
 The f x-glove cuppe you'll bring, 
 
 Sae mony braw things as I would you gi'e." 
 
 
 The taile of shootinge sterne, 
 
 
 
 And at the grassy ring, 
 
 She shaw'd me a mantle o' red scarlet, 
 
 
 We'll pledge the pith o' feme. 
 
 Wi' gouden flowers and fringes fine, 
 
 
 Chob. — Ay lu Ian, Ian dil y'u, &c. 
 
 Says, " Gin ye will be my lemman sae true, 
 This goodly gift it saU be thine." 
 
 
 And when the blushing moone 
 
 
 
 Glides down the western skye, 
 
 "Awa', awa', ye ugly witch, 
 
 
 By streamer's wing we soon 
 
 Haud far awa', and lat me be ; 
 
 
 Upon her top will lye ; — 
 
 I never will be your lemman sae true, 
 
 
 Her hiehest horn we'll ride, 
 
 And I wish I were out of your company." 
 
 
 And quaffe her yellowe dewe; 
 
 
 
 And frae her skaddowye side, 
 
 She neist brocht a sark o' the saftest silk, 
 
 
 The burning daye we'll viewe. 
 
 "Weel wrought wi' pearls about the band ; 
 
 
 Ciior. — Ay lu Ian, Ian dil y'u, &c. 
 
 Says,—" Gin ye will be my ain true love, 
 
 
 
 
 This goodly gift ye sail command." 
 She shaw'd me a cup o' the good red goud 
 
 
 The straine raise high, the straine fell low, 
 
 Weel set wi' jewels sae fair to see ; 
 
 
 Then fainted fitfullye; 
 
 Says, — " Gin ye will be my lemman sae true, 
 
 
 And bonnye Jeanye Roole she lookit up, 
 
 This goodly gift I will you gie." 
 
 
 To see what she might see. 
 
 "Awa', awa', ye ugly witch ! 
 
 
 She lookit hiche to the bodynge hille, 
 
 Haud far awa', and lat me be ; 
 
 
 And laighe to the darklynge deane ; — 
 
 For I wadna ance kiss your ugly mouth 
 
 
 She heard the soundis still ringin' i' the lifte, 
 
 For a' the gifts that ye cou'd gie." 
 
 
 But naethinge could be seene. 
 
 She's turned her richt and round about, 
 
 
 She held her breathe with anxious eare, 
 
 And thrice she blew on a grass-green horn ; 
 
 
 And thought it all a ilrcame ; — 
 
 And she sware by the moon and the stars aboon, 
 
 
 But an eiry nicher she heard i' the linne, 
 
 That she'd gar me rue the day I was born. 
 
 
 And a plitch-platch in the streime. 
 
 Then out has she ta'en a silver wand, [round; 
 
 
 Never a word said bonnye Jeanye Roole, 
 
 And she's turned her three times round and 
 
 
 Butte, shepherd, lette us gange ; 
 
 She's mutter'd sic words, that my strength it 
 
 
 And never mair, at a Gloamyne Buchte, 
 
 fail'd, 
 
 
 Wald she singe another sange. ^j 
 
 i And I fell down senseless on the ground. 
 
 
 
 
462 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 She's turn'd me into an ugly worm, * 
 And gar'd me toddle about the tree ; 
 
 And ay, on ilka Saturday's night, 
 My sister Maisry came to me, 
 
 Wi' silver hason, and silver kemb, 
 To kemb my headie upon her knee ; 
 
 But or I had kiss'd her ugly mouth, 
 I'd rather ha'e toddled about the tree. 
 
 But as it fell out on last Hallowe'en, 
 
 "When the Seely Court f was ridin' by, 
 
 The queen lighted down on a gowan bank, 
 !Nae far frae the tree whare I wont to lye. 
 
 She took me up in her milk-white hand, [knee ; 
 
 And she straiked me three times o'er her 
 She changed me again to my ain proper shape, 
 
 And I nae mair maun toddle about the tree. 
 
 %\i Ww WSLzz JEaw, 
 
 [This fragment was published by David Herd 
 In the first edition of his collection, 1709. It was 
 also given in Johnson's Museum, along with the 
 old melody to which it is sung, from which work 
 it was copied by Eitson, words and music. Eit- 
 son supposes the ballad to be a portion of an old 
 poem of the time of Edward I. or II. in the 
 Cotton MSS., beginning, 
 
 " Als y yod on ay Mouuday." 
 This poem will be found in Finlay's collection 
 (Edinburgh, 1808, vol. ii.) with a commentary 
 and glossary.] 
 
 As I was walking all alane 
 
 Between the water and the wa', 
 
 There I spyed a wee wee man, 
 
 And he was the least that e'er I saw. 
 
 * The term worm formerly signified, like ser- 
 pent, "a reptile of any kind that made its way 
 without legs." Here, it signifies a snake. Piers 
 Plowman, using it in the same sense, lor a ser- 
 pent, speaks of " Wyld niormes in woodes," &c. 
 ed. 1561. F. 0. iii. 1. 
 
 f Seely Court, i. e. " pleasant or happy court," 
 or " court of the pleasant and happy people." 
 This agrees with the ancient and more legitimate 
 idea of Fairies. 
 
 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. § 
 
 He took up a meikle stane, 
 
 And he flang't as far as I could see ; 
 Though I had been a Wallace wight, 
 
 I coudna liften't to my knee. 
 
 " O, wee wee man, but thou be Strang ! 
 
 tell me where thy dwelling be ?" 
 " My dwelling's down by yon bonnie bower, 
 
 will you go with me and see ?" 
 
 On we lap, and awa' we rade, 
 
 Till we came to yon bonnie green ; 
 
 We lighted down to bate our horse, 
 And out there came a lady sheen. 
 
 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 ha'e been his queen. 
 
 On we lap, and awa' we rade, 
 
 Till we came to yon bonnie 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 e'e, 
 
 My wee wee man was clean awa'. % 
 
 % Shathmont, in old Scottish, means the fist 
 closed, with the thumb extended, and may be 
 considered a measure of about six inches. 
 
 § Variation in Motherwell's copy : — 
 
 His leg was scarce a shathmont lang, 
 Both thick and nimble was his knee; 
 
 Between his e'en there was a span, 
 Betwixt his shoulders there were ells three. 
 
 [| Variation in Motherwell : 
 
 IT Variation in Motherwell's copy:— 
 
 There were pipers playing in every neuk, 
 And ladies dancing jimp and sma% 
 
 And aye the owertui n o' their tune 
 Was, Our wee wee man has been lang awa i 
 
FAIRY MYTHOLOGY. 
 
 463 
 
 [In tbe collection in the Pepysean library, 
 Cambridge, may be found a ditty with the fol- 
 lowing title, "A Proper New Ballad, entituled, 
 The Wind hath blown my Plaid away, or A dis- 
 course betwixt a Toung Maid and the Elphin- 
 Knight. To be sung with its own pleasant tune." 
 It is just a different version of the following bal- 
 lad, which is given in Mr Kinloch's collection, 
 from the recitation of a native of Mearns-shire.] 
 
 Therb stands a knicht at the tap o' yon hill, * 
 
 Oure the hills and far awa' — 
 He has blawn his horn loud and shill, 
 
 The cauld wind's blawn my plaid awa. 
 
 " If I had the horn that I hear blawn, 
 
 Oure the hills and far awa' — 
 And the knicht that blaws that horn,"— 
 
 The cauld wind's blawn my plaid awa'. 
 
 * Elf is commonly used as synonymous with 
 fairy, though it also signifies a spirit or fiend, 
 possessing qualities of a more evil nature than 
 the " Guile neebours." — The " Elfin Knicht " 
 comes under the latter description, and in truth, 
 may be viewed as the same person as the devil, 
 who, in the annals of tradition, is a well known 
 tempter of the fair sex. He was once known to 
 have paid his addresses to a fair maiden near the 
 hill of Bennochie, in Aberdeenshire, in the form 
 and dress of a handsome young man ; and so far 
 gained her affections as to get her consent to be- 
 come his wife. It happened, however, on the 
 day appointed for the nuptials, which were to be 
 celebrated in a distant part of the country, where 
 the devil said he resided, that she accidentally 
 discovered his cloven feet, (of which distinguish- 
 ing mark he has not the power to divest himself), 
 and was horror-struck to find that her ardent 
 lover was no other than the devil ! Knowing 
 that her promise was binding, and believing the 
 tradition that she would be freed from her en- 
 gagement if the day were allowed to elapse before 
 he exacted her promise, she dissembled her ter- 
 ror, and entered into conversation with him on 
 various topics, particularly about their approach- 
 ing nuptials, in order to pass over the day. But 
 the devil was not so easily deceived; and per- 
 
 She had na sooner thae words said,— 
 
 Oure the hills and far awa' — 
 Than the elfin knicht cam' to her side,— 
 
 Tbe cauld wind's blawn my plaid awa'. 
 
 " Are na ye oure young a may,— 
 
 Oure the hills and far awa' — 
 Wi' onie young man doun to lie," — 
 
 The cauld wind's blawn my plaid awa'. 
 
 " I have a sister younger than I, — 
 
 Oure the hills and far awa'— 
 And she was married yesterday," — 
 
 The cauld wind's blawn my plaid awa'. 
 
 " Married wi' me, ye sail ne'er be nane, — 
 Oure the hills and far awa' — 
 
 Till ye mak' to me a sark butf a seam," — 
 The cauld wind's blawn my plaid awa' 
 
 " And ye maun shape it, knife, sheerless, £ 
 Oure the hills and far awa' — 
 
 And ye maun sew it, needle, threedless," f 
 The cauld wind's blawn my plaid awa'. 
 
 emptorily insisted on her going with him. At 
 last, every delay and excuse being exhausted, 
 she, as a last resource, told him she would volun- 
 tarily fulfil her promise, provided he would make 
 a causey or road from the foot to the top of Ben- 
 nochie, before she finished baking a quantity of 
 bread, at which she was then engaged. The 
 devil consented, and immediately commenced 
 his labour ; while the maid went as quickly to 
 work. But just as she was baking the last cake, 
 the devil, who had concluded his task, appeared, 
 and claimed her according to bargain. Being 
 unwilling to comply, she resisted with all her 
 might ; but he carried her off by force : and in 
 passing Bennochie, the struggle between them 
 became so great, that the devil, enraged at her 
 obduracy, and in order to punish her falsehood, 
 transformed her, with her girdle and spartle (the 
 baking implements, which she had taken with 
 her in the hurry) into three grey stones, which, 
 with the road he formed upon the hill, are pointed 
 out to this day, to show the wonderful power of 
 the devil, and the inevitable fate of those who 
 have connection with the evil one ; — thus verify- 
 ing the proverb, «' They wha deal wi' the de'U will 
 aye get a dear pennyworth." — Kinlock. 
 
 t But— without. t »"■ «• Without 
 
 . knife, or scissors, needle, or thread. 
 

 
 
 
 46 i SCOTTISH 
 
 BALLADS. 
 
 
 " And ye maun wash it in yon cistran, — «k "And whan that your wark is Weill deen, H— 
 
 
 
 Oure the hills and far awa' — 
 
 Oure the hills and far awa' — 
 
 
 
 Whare water never stood nor ran," — 
 
 Ve'se get your sark without a seam,"— 
 
 
 
 The cauld wind's blawn my plaid awa'. 
 
 The cauld wind's blawn my plaid awa' 
 
 
 
 "And ye maun dry it on yon hawthorn, — 
 
 
 
 
 Oure the hills and far awa' — 
 
 -^— 
 
 
 
 Whare the sun ne'er shon sin man was born," «« 
 
 
 
 
 The cauld wind's blawn my plaid awa'. 
 
 THE FAIRY KNIGHT. 
 
 
 
 " Gin that courtesie I do for thee, — 
 
 
 
 
 Oure the hills and far awa' — 
 
 [This is another version of" The Elfin Knicht " 
 
 
 
 Ye maun do this for me/' — 
 
 taken from Mr Buchan's collection.] 
 
 
 
 The cauld wind's blawn my plaid awa'. 
 
 The Elfin knight stands on you hill, 
 
 
 
 " Te'll get an acre o' gude red-land, * — 
 
 Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw ! 
 
 
 
 Oure the hills and far awa', — 
 
 Blawing his horn loud and shrill, 
 
 
 
 Atween the saut sea and the sand,* — 
 
 And the wind has blawn my plaid awa'. 
 
 
 
 The cauld wind's blawn my plaid awa'. 
 
 " If I had yon horn in my kist, 
 
 
 
 " I want that land for to be corn,— 
 
 Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw ! 
 
 
 
 Oure the hills and far awa' — 
 
 And the bonnie laddie here that I luve best," — 
 
 
 
 And ye maun aer (■ it wi' your horn," — | 
 
 And the wind has blawn my plaid awa'. 
 
 
 
 The cauld wind's blawn my plaid awa'. 
 
 " I ha'e a sister eleven years auld, 
 
 
 
 "And ye maun saw it without a seed, — 
 
 Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw ! 
 
 
 
 Oure the hills and far awa' — 
 
 And she to the young men's bed has made 
 
 
 
 And ye maun harrow it wi' a threed," — 
 
 bauld," — 
 
 
 
 The cauld wind's blawn my plaid awa'. 
 
 And the wind has blawn my plaid awa'. 
 
 
 
 "And ye maun shear it wi' your knife, — 
 
 " And I mysell am only nine, 
 
 
 
 Oure the hills and far awa' — 
 
 Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw ! 
 
 
 
 And na tyne a pickle o'tfor your life," — 
 
 And oh ! sae fain, luve, as I wou'd be thine," — 
 
 
 
 The cauld wind's blawn my plaid awa'. 
 
 And the wind has blawn my plaid awa'. 
 
 
 
 "And ye maun moue + it in yon mouse-hole, — 
 
 " Ye maun make me a fine Holland sark, 
 
 
 
 Oure the hills and far awa' — 
 
 Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw ! 
 
 
 
 And ye maun thrash it in your shoe-sole," — 
 
 ■Without ony stitching, or needle wark," — 
 
 
 
 The cauld wind's blawn n.y plaid awa'. 
 
 And the wind has blawn my plaid awa'. 
 
 
 < 
 
 " And ye mann fan it wi' your luves, §— 
 
 " And ye maun wash it in yonder well, 
 
 
 
 Oure the hills and far awa' — 
 
 Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw ! 
 
 
 
 And ye maun sack it in your gloves," — 
 
 Where the dew never wat, nor the rain ever 
 
 
 
 The cauld wind's blawn my plaid awa'. 
 
 fell,"— 
 And the wind has blawn my plaid awa*. 
 
 
 
 " And ye maun bring it oure the sea, — 
 
 
 
 
 Oure the hills and far awa' — 
 
 " And ye maun dry it upon a thorn, 
 
 
 
 Fair and clean, and dry to me," — 
 
 Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw ! 
 
 
 
 The cauld wind's blawn my plaid awa'. 
 
 That never budded sin Adam was born," — 
 And the wind has blawn my plaid awa'." 
 
 
 
 
 * Red land— tilled land. f Aer— till. 
 % Moue — put it up in ricks. 
 
 
 
 
 
 § Fan it mi' your luves — winnow it with your 
 
 [| Weill deen— well done ; the pronunciation of 
 
 
 
 palms. <^ 
 
 j the North. 
 
 
 
FAIRY MYTHOLOGY. 
 
 46-5 
 
 ** Now sin' ye've ask'd some things o' me, 
 
 Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw ! 
 It's right I ask as mony o' thee," — 
 
 And the wind has blawn my plaid awa.' 
 
 " My father he ask'd me an acre o' land, 
 
 Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw ! 
 Between the saut sea and the strand," — 
 
 And the wind has blawn my plaid awa'. 
 
 " And ye maun plow't wi' your blawing horn, 
 
 Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw! 
 And ye maun saw't wi' pepper corn,"— 
 
 And the wind has blawn my plaid awa'. 
 
 "And ye maun harrow't wi' a single tyne, 
 Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw ! [bane,"' — 
 
 And ye maun shear't wi' a sheep's shank 
 And the wind has blawn my plaid awa'. 
 
 ** And ye maun big it in the sea, 
 
 Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw! 
 And bring the stathle dry to me," — 
 
 And the wind has blawn my plaid awa'. 
 
 " And ye maun barn't in yon mouse hole, 
 
 Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw ! 
 And ye maun thrash't in your shee sole," — 
 
 And the wind has blawn my plaid awa'. 
 
 "And ye maun sack it in your gluve, 
 
 Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw ! 
 And ye maun winno't in your leuve," — 
 
 And the wind has blawn my plaid awa". 
 
 ** And ye maun dry't without candle 05 coal, 
 
 Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw ! 
 And grind it without quirn or mill," — 
 
 And the wind has blawn my plaid awa'. 
 
 " Ye'll big a cart o' stane and lime, 
 
 Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw ! 
 Gar Robin Redbreast trail it syne," — 
 
 And the wind has blawn my plaid awn'. 
 
 " When ye've dune and finish'd your wark, 
 
 Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw ! 
 Ye'll come to me, luve, and get your sark," — 
 
 And the wind has blawn my plaid awa'." 
 
 jlk #Iuf, 
 anto tfK BU lEran'g Haugfjteir. 
 
 [Translated by Mr Jamieson from the Dan- 
 ish, and published in his collection, Edinburgh. 
 1S06.] 
 
 Sir Olup the hend has ridden sae wide, 
 All unto his bridal feast to bid. 
 
 And lightly the elves, sae feat and free, 
 They dance all under the greenwood tree ' * 
 
 And there danced four, and there danced five; 
 The Elf-King's daughter she reekit bilive. 
 
 Her hand to Sir Oluf sae fair and free : 
 
 " O welcome, Sir Oluf, come dance wi' me! 
 
 "0 welcome, Sir Oluf! now lat thy love gay, 
 And tread wi' me in the dance sae gay." 
 
 " To dance wi' thee ne dare I, ne may ; 
 The morn it is my bridal day." 
 
 " come, Sir Oluf, and dance wi' me ; 
 Twa buckskin boots I'll give to thee ; 
 
 " Twa buckskin boots, that sit sae fair, 
 Wi' gilded spurs sae rich and rare. 
 
 "And hear ye, Sir Oluf! come dance wi' me; 
 And a silken sark I'll give to thee ; 
 
 " A silken sark sae white and fine, 
 
 That my mother bleached in the moonshine." 
 
 * In the original this burden seems to have be- 
 longed to some elder ballad, which was sung to 
 the same tune ; but as it makes something like a 
 connection between the first and second couplet, 
 I have introduced it as characteristically as I 
 could. The greater part of the ballads in the 
 " K. Yiser," as well as many of the traditionary 
 Scottish ones, have burdens of this kind, which 
 have no relation to the sense of the stanzas to 
 which they are annexed ; although they are such 
 as may be supposed to have continued the sense, 
 as well as the sound, in the pieces to which they 
 originally belonged. — Jamieson. 
 So 
 

 
 
 
 465 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 "I dareca, I maunna come dance wi' thee ; as 
 
 
 
 For the morn my bridal day maun be." 
 
 Mfor WIL 
 
 
 
 "0 hear ye, Sir Oluf ! come dance wi' me, 
 
 [This is another translation by Mr Jamieson 
 
 
 
 And a helmet o' goud I'll give to thee." 
 
 from the Danish, and published in his collection, 
 Edinburgh, 1806.] 
 
 
 
 " A helmet o' goud I well may ha'e ; 
 
 
 
 
 But dance wi' thee ne dare I, ne may." 
 
 I laid my haffet on Elfer Hill ; 
 Saft slooming clos'd my e'e ; 
 
 
 
 " And winna thou dance, Sir Oluf, wi' me ? 
 
 And there twa selcouth * ladies came. 
 
 
 
 Then sickness and pain shall follow thee ! " 
 
 Sae fain to speak to me. 
 
 
 
 She's smitten Sir Oluf— it strak to his heart ; 
 
 Ane clappit me then, wi* cheek sae whiie, 
 
 
 
 He never before had kent sic a smart ; 
 
 Ane rown'd intill mine ear: 
 "Rise up, fair youth, and join our dance ; 
 
 
 
 Then lifted him up on his ambler red ; 
 
 Rise up, but doubt or fear 1 
 
 
 
 "And now, Sir Oluf, ride hame to thy bride." 
 
 " Wake up, fair youth, and join the dance, 
 
 
 
 And whan he came till the castell yett, 
 
 And we will tread the ring, 
 
 
 
 His mither she stood and leant thereat. 
 
 While mair nor eardly melody 
 My ladies for thee sing." 
 
 
 
 " hear ye, Sir Oluf, my ain dear son, 
 
 
 
 
 Whareto is your lire sae blae and wan ?" 
 
 Syne ane, the fairest may on mold, 
 Sae sweet a sang began ; 
 
 
 
 " well may my lire be wan and blae, 
 
 The hurling stream was still'd therewi', 
 
 
 
 For I ha'e been in the elf- women's play." 
 
 Sae fast afore that ran. 
 
 
 
 " hear ye, Sir Oluf, my son, my pride, 
 
 The striving stream was still'd therewi', 
 
 
 
 And what shall I say to thy young bride?" 
 
 Sae fast that wont to rin ; 
 The sma' fish, in the flood that swam, 
 
 
 
 " Te'll say, that I've ridden but into the wood, 
 
 Amo' their faes now blin.' 
 
 
 
 To prieve gin my horse and hounds are good." 
 
 The fishes a' in flood that were, 
 
 
 
 Ear on the morn, whan night was gane, 
 
 Lay still, baith fin and tail; 
 
 
 
 The bride she cam' wi' the bridal train. 
 
 The sma' fowls in the shaw began 
 To whitter f in the dale. 
 
 
 
 They skinked the mead, and they skinked the 
 
 
 
 
 " whareis Sir Oluf, bridegroom mine?" [wine: 
 
 " hear, thou fair, thou young swain, 
 And thou wi' us will dwell ; 
 
 
 
 " Sir Oluf has ridden but into the wood, 
 
 Then will we teach thee book and rune, 
 
 
 
 To prieve gin his horse and hounds are good." 
 
 To read and write sae well. 
 
 
 
 And she took up the scarlet red, 
 
 " I'll lear thee how the bear to bind, 
 
 
 
 A.nd there lay Sir Oluf, and he was dead ! 
 
 And fasten to the aik tree ; 
 The dragon, that liggs on mickle goud, 
 
 
 
 Ear on the morn, whan it was day, 
 
 Three likes were ta'en frae the castle away ; 
 
 Afore thee fast shall flee." 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 * Selcouth, i. e. seld-couth, seldom known, 
 
 
 
 Sir Oluf the leal, and his bride sae fair, 
 
 Strange, uncommon. — Jamieson. 
 
 
 
 And his mither, that died wi' sorrow and care. 
 
 t To whitter, i. e. to warble in a low voice, as 
 singing birds always do at first, when they set 
 
 
 
 And lightly the elves sae feat and free, 
 
 about imitating any sweet music, which particu- 
 
 
 
 They dance all under the greenwood tree ! ( 
 
 j larly attracts their attention.— Jamieson. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
FAIRY MYTHOLOGY. 
 
 467 
 
 They danced out, and they danced in, 
 
 In the Elfer ring sae green ; 
 All silent sat the fair young swain, 
 
 And on his sword did lean. 
 
 " Now hear, thou fair, thou young swain, 
 
 But and thou till us speak, 
 Then shall on sword and sharp knife 
 
 Thy dearest heart-blood reek." 
 
 Had God nae made my luck sae gude, 
 That the cock did wap his wing, 
 
 I boot ha'e bidden on Elfer Hill, 
 In the Elf-ladies' ring. 
 
 " I rede the Danish young swains, 
 
 That to the court will ride, 
 That they ne'er ride to Elfer Hill, 
 
 Nor sleep upon its side." 
 
 m ^UfflE J^Mtiraw. 
 
 [Modern ballad, by David Tedder. — Sir 
 Alan Mortimer was a potent chieftain, of Nor- 
 man descent, whose lands lay in the vicinity of 
 Aberdour in Pifeshire. Haughty and irascible, 
 he lived at feud with many of the neighbouring 
 Thanes, but more especially with the Abbot of a 
 wealthy Augustine monastery, situate on the 
 small island of Inch Colrn, about a mile distant 
 from his castle. In order to reconcile her father 
 to the Church, Emma Mortimer entered into 
 collusion with the venerable Abbot, and enabled 
 him to perform a feat, which in those days passed 
 for a miracle. So powerfully was the old baron 
 impressed with the whole operation of restoring 
 his daughter, that in the fulness of his heart, he 
 gave the western part of the parish of Aberdour 
 to the monastery on the island, for the privilege 
 of being interred in the Church.] 
 
 Thb morning's e'e saw mirth an' glee 
 
 I' the hoary feudal tower 
 O' bauld Sir Alan Mortimer, 
 
 The lord o' Aberdour. 
 
 But dool was there, an' mickle care, 
 When the moon began to gleam ; 
 
 For Elve an' Fay held holiday 
 Beneath her siller beam. 
 
 * Sir Alan's peerless daughter was 
 His darling frae infancie ; 
 She bloomed in her bower a lily flower. 
 Beneath the light o' his e'e; 
 
 She equalled Eve's majestic form, 
 
 Saint Mary's matchless grace ; 
 An' the heavenly hues o' paradise 
 
 O'erspread her beauteous face. 
 
 The diamond grew dim compared wi' her e'e, 
 The gowd, compared wi' her hair, — 
 
 Wi' the magic o' her bewitching smile 
 There was naething on earth to compare 
 
 An* the dulcet music o' her voice 
 
 Excelled the harmonie 
 Which Elve an' Fay sae deftly play 
 
 When halding high jubilee ! 
 
 The woodbine an' the jessamine 
 
 Their tendrils had entwined ; 
 A bower was formed, an' Emma aft 
 
 At twilight there reclined. 
 
 She thought of her knight in Palestine; 
 
 And sometimes she would sigh, — 
 For love was a guest in her spotless breastj 
 
 In heavenly purity 1 
 
 The setting sun had ceased t<> gild 
 
 Saint Columb's haly tower, 
 An' the vesper star began to glow, 
 
 Ere Emma left her bower ; 
 
 An' the fairy court had begun their sport 
 
 Upon the daisied lea, 
 While the gossamer strings o' their virginalj 
 
 Wi' fairy melodie. [rang 
 
 That night the king had convoked his court 
 
 Upon the enamelled green, 
 To pick an' wale thro' his beauties a' 
 
 For a blumin' fairy queen ; 
 
 An' ere ever he wist, he spied a form 
 That rivalled his beauties a'; 
 
 'Twas Emma — Sir Alan Mortimer's pride- 
 Coming hame to her father's ha'. 
 
 Quick as the vivid lightning gleams 
 
 Amidst a thunder storm, 
 As rapidly the elve assumed 
 
 Lord Bethune's manly form : 
 

 • 
 
 403 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 
 As flies the cushat to her mate, ^fe His Saint-like mien, his radiant een, 
 So, to meet his embrace she flew ; — | An' his tresses o' siller grey, 
 
 Like a feathered shaft frae a yeoman's bow Might ha'e driven to flight the demons o' night, 
 She vanished frae human view ! But rood or rosarie J 
 
 
 
 The abbey bell, on the sacred isle, 
 
 Had told the vesper hour ; 
 No footsteps are heard, no Emma appeared, 
 
 Sir Alan rushed from his tower ; — 
 
 The messenger dropt upon his knee, 
 An' humbly this he said ; — 
 
 " My master, a t'aithfu' son o' the kirk, 
 Implores your ghostlie aid ; 
 
 
 
 The warders they ha'e left their posts. 
 
 An* ta'en them to the bent; 
 The porters they ha'e left the yetts— 
 
 The sleuth-hounds are on the scent. 
 
 "An' ye're bidden to put sic armour on 
 As is proof against glamourie, 
 
 Lest the fiends o' hell ha'e power to prevail 
 Against baith him an' thee." 
 
 
 
 The vassals a' ha'e left their cots, 
 
 An' sought thro' the brake an' wold ; 
 
 But the good sleuth-hounds they a' lay down 
 On the purple heath, an' yowled ! 
 
 The abbot leaped lightlie in the boat, 
 An' pushed her frae the strand ; 
 
 An' pantin' for breath, 'tween life an' death, 
 The vassals rowed to land ; 
 
 
 
 Sir Alan was aye the foremost man 
 
 In dingle, brake and brier ; 
 But when he heard his sleuth-hounds yowl, 
 
 He tore his thin grey hair. 
 
 He graspit the mournfu' Baron's hand— 
 "Ha'e patience, my son," says he ; 
 
 " For I sail expel the fiends o' hell 
 Frae your castle an' baronie." 
 
 
 
 An' aye he cheered his vassals on, 
 Though his heart was like to break ; 
 
 But when he saw his hounds lie down, 
 Fu' mournfully thus he spake : 
 
 " Restore my daughter," Sir Alan cries, 
 " To her father's fond embrace, 
 
 An' the half o' my gold, this very night, 
 Saint Columb's shrine shall grace ; 
 
 
 
 " Unearthlie sounds affright my hounds, 
 
 Unearthlie sights they see ; 
 They quiver an' shake on the heather brake 
 
 Like the leaves o' the aspen tree. 
 
 " Tes, if thou'lt restore my darling child, 
 That's from me foully been riven, 
 
 The half of my lands, ere morning's prime, 
 To thine abbey shall be given." 
 
 
 
 " My blude has almost ceased to flow, 
 An' my soul is chilled wi' fear, 
 
 Lest the elfin or the demon race 
 
 Should ha'e stown my daughter dear. 
 
 The abbot replied, with priestly pride, 
 " Ha'e patience under your loss ; 
 
 There never was fiend withstood me yet, 
 When I brandished the haly cross 
 
 
 
 " Haste, haste, to the haly abbot wha dwells 
 On Saint Columb's sacred shores ; 
 
 An' tell him a son o' haly kirk 
 His ghostlie aid implores. 
 
 " Forego your fear, and be of good cheer — 
 
 I hereby pledge my word 
 That, by Marie's might, ere I sleep this night, 
 
 Your daughter shall be restored." 
 
 
 
 " Let him buckle sic spiritual armour on 
 As is proof against glamourie ; 
 
 Lest the fiends o' hell ha'e power to prevail 
 Against baith him an' me." 
 
 The abbot had made a pilgrimage, 
 
 Barefoot to Palestine ; 
 Had slept i' the haly sepulchre, 
 
 An* visions he had seen ; 
 
 
 
 The rowers ha'e dashed across the stream 
 
 An' knocked at the chapel door ; 
 The abbot was chauntin' his midnight hymn, 
 
 Saint Columb's shrine before ; ; ; 
 
 His girdle had been seven times laved 
 
 In Siloam's sacred stream, 
 An* haly Saint Bride a rosarie hung 
 , Around his neck, in a dream J 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
FAIRY MYTHOLOGY. 
 
 469 
 
 A bead was strung on this rosarie 
 That had cured ten men bewitched ; 
 
 An' a relic o' the real cross 
 His pastoral staff enriched ; 
 
 He carried a chalice in his hand, 
 
 Brimfu' o' water clear, 
 Tor his ain behoof, that had oozed frae the roof 
 
 O' the haly sepulchre ! 
 
 He sprinkled bauld Sir Alan's lands 
 
 Wi' draps o' this heaveulie dew ; 
 An' the gruesome elves betook themselves 
 
 To the distant Grampians blue : 
 
 Anon he shook his rosarie, 
 
 An* invoked Saint Marie's name, 
 
 An' Emma's lute-like voice was heard 
 Chauntin' our Lady's hymn ! 
 
 But when he brandished the haly rood, 
 
 An' raised it to the sky, — 
 Like a beam of light she burst on their sight 
 
 In vestal purity ! 
 
 BPj&MEag ®fje lEigww. 
 
 IN THREE PARTS 
 Part First. 
 
 [From Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border. — 
 " Few personages," says Sir Walter Scott, " are 
 so renowned in tradition as Thomas of Ercel- 
 doune, known by the appellation of The Rhymer. 
 Uniting, or supposed to unite, in his person, the 
 powers of poetical composition, and of vaticina- 
 tion, his memory, even after the lapse of five 
 hundred years, is regarded with veneration by 
 his countrymen. To give any thing like a certain 
 history of this remarkable man, would be indeed 
 difficult ; but the curious may derive some satis- 
 faction from the particulars here brought to- 
 gether. 
 
 " It is agreed on all hands, that the residence, 
 and probably the birth-place, of this ancient 
 bard, was Erceldoune, a village situated upon 
 the Leader, two miles above its junction with 
 the Tweed. The ruins of an ancient tower are 
 still pointed out as the Rhymer's castle. The 
 
 uniform tradition bears, that his sirname was 
 Lermont, or Learmont ; and that the appellation 
 of The Rhymer was conferred on him in conse- 
 quence of his poetical compositions. There re- 
 mains, nevertheless, some doubt upon this sub- 
 ject. In a charter, the son of our poet designed 
 himself 'Thomas of Ercildoun, son and heir of 
 Thomas Rymour of Ercildoun,' which seems to 
 imply, that the father did not bear the hereditary 
 name of Learmont ; or, at least, was better known 
 and distinguished by the epithet, which he had 
 acquired by his personal accomplishments. I 
 must however remark, that, down to a very late 
 period, the practice of distinguishing the parties, 
 even in formal writings, by the epithets which 
 had been bestowed on them from personal cir- 
 cumstances, instead of the proper sirnames of 
 their families, was common, and indeed neces- 
 sary, among the border clans. So early as the 
 end of the thirteenth century, when surnames 
 were hardly introduced in Scotland, this custom 
 must have been universal. There is, therefore, 
 nothing inconsistent in supposing our poet's name 
 to have been actually Learmont, although, in 
 this charter, he is distinguished by the popular 
 appellation of The Rhymer. 
 
 " We are better able to ascertain the period at 
 which Thomas of Ercildoun lived, being the latter 
 end of the thirteenth century. I am inclined to 
 place his death a little farther back than Mr Pin- 
 kerton, who supposes that he was alive in 1300; 
 {List of Scottish Poets ;) which is hardly, I think, 
 consistent with the charter already quoted, by 
 which his son, in 1299, for himself and his heirs, 
 conveys to the convent of the Trinity of Soltre, 
 the tenement which he possessed by inheritance 
 {hereditaria) in Ercildoun, with all claim which 
 he, or his predecessors, could pretend thereto. 
 From this we may infer, that the Rhymer was 
 now dead, since we find his son disposing of the 
 family property. Still, however, the argument 
 of the learned historian will remain unimpeached 
 as to the time of the poet's birth. For if, as we 
 learn from Barbour, his prophecies were held in 
 reputation { as early as 1306, when Bruce slew 
 the Red Cummin, the sanctity, and (let me add 
 to Mr Pinkerton's words) the uncertainty of an- 
 tiquity, must have already involved his character 
 
 f The lines alluded to are these :— 
 
 I hope that Thomas's prophegie, 
 Of Erceldouu, shall truly be, 
 In him, &c. 
 
470 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 and writings. In a charter of Peter de Haga de \ 
 Bemersyde, which unfortunately wants a date, 
 the Rhymer, a near neighbour, and, if we may 
 trust tradition, a friend of the family, appears as 
 ■a witness. — Cartulary of Melrose. 
 
 "It cannot be doubted, that Thomas of Ercil- 
 doun was a remarkable and important person in 
 his own time, since, very shortly after his death, 
 we find hirn celebrated as a prophet and as a 
 poet. Whether he himself made any pretensions 
 to the first of these characters, or whether it was 
 gratuitously conferred upon him by the credulity 
 of posterity, it seems difficult to decide. If we 
 may believe Mackenzie, Learinont only versified 
 the prophecies delivered by Eliza, an inspired 
 nun, of a convent at Haddington. But of thi3 
 there seems not to be the most distant proof. 
 On the contrary, all ancient authors, who quote 
 the Rhymer's prophecies, uniformly suppose them 
 to have been emitted by himself. Thus, in Win- 
 town's Chronicle — 
 
 Of this fycht quilum spak* Thomas 
 
 Of Ersyldoune, that sayd in derne, 
 
 Thare suld uieit stalwartly, starke and sterile. 
 
 He sayd it in his prophecy; 
 
 But how he wist it was ferly. 
 
 Book viii. chap. 32 
 
 There could have been no ferly (marvel), in 
 Wintown's eyes at least, how Thomas came by 
 his knowledge of future events, had he ever 
 heard of the inspired nun of Haddington, which, 
 itcannot be doubted, would have been a solution 
 of the mystery, much to the taste of the prior of 
 Lochleven. " 
 
 " Whatever doubts, however, the learned might 
 have, as to the source of the Rhymer's prophetic 
 skill, the vulgar had no hesitation to ascribe the 
 whole to the intercourse between the bard and 
 the queen of Faery. The popular tale bears, that 
 Thomas was carried off, at an early age, to the 
 Fairy Land, where he acquired all the knowledge, 
 
 * Henry the Minstrel, who introduces Thomas into 
 the history of W allace, expresses the same doubt as to 
 the source of his prophetic knowledge : — 
 
 Thomas Rhymer into the faile was than 
 With the minister, which was a worthy man. 
 He used oft to that religious place; 
 The people deemed of wit he meikle can, 
 And so he told, though that they bless or ban, 
 "Which happened sooth in many divers case; 
 I cannot say by wrong or righteousness. 
 In rule of war whether they tint or wan : 
 It may be deemed by division of grace, &c. 
 
 History of Wallace, Book U. 
 
 which made him afterwards so famous. After 
 seven years residence, he was permitted to return 
 to the earth, to enlighten and astonish his coun- 
 trymen by his prophetic powers ; still, however, 
 remaining bound to return to his royal mistress, 
 when she should intimate her pleasure. Ac- 
 cordingly, while Thomas was making merry with 
 his friends in the tower of Ercildoun, a person 
 came running in, and told, with maiks of fear 
 and astonishment, that a hart and hind had left 
 the neighbouring forest, and were, composedly 
 and slowly, parading the street of the village.' 
 The prophet instantly arose, left his habitation, 
 and followed the wonderful animals to the forest, 
 whence he was never seen to return. According 
 to the popular belief, he still 'drees his weird' 
 in Fairy Land, and is one day expected to revisit 
 ] earth. In the meanwhile, his memory is held in 
 j the most profound respect. The Eildon Tree, 
 ! from beneath the shade of which he delivered his 
 I prophecies, now no longer exists ; but the spot 
 j is marked by a large stone, called Eildon Tree 
 | Stone. A neighbouring rivulet takes the name 
 j of the Bogle Burn (Goblin Brook) from the 
 I Rhymer's supernatural visitants. The venera- 
 tion paid to his dwelling place, even attached 
 itself in some degree to a person, who, within 
 the memory of man, chose to set up his residence 
 in the ruins of Learmont's tower. The name of 
 this man was Murray, a kind of herbalist ; who, 
 by dint of some knowledge in simples, the pos- 
 session of a musical clock, an electrical machine, 
 and a stuffdd alligator, added to a supposed com- 
 munication with Thomas the Rhymer, lived for 
 many years in very good credit as a wizard."] 
 
 True Thomas lay on Huntlie bank ; 
 
 A ferlie he spied wi' his e'e ; 
 And there he saw a ladye bright, 
 
 Come riding down by the Eildon Tree. 
 
 Her shirt was o' the grass-green silk, 
 
 Her mantle o' the velvet fyne ; 
 At ilka tett of her horse's mane, 
 
 Hang fifty siller bells and nine. 
 
 True Thomas, he pull'd aff his cap. 
 And louted low down to his knee, 
 
 "All hail, thou mighty queen of heav'n ! 
 For thy peer on earth I never did see." 
 
 I -f There is a singular resemblance bettvixt this tradi- 
 l tion, and an incident occurring in the life of Merlin 
 ? Caledonius. 
 
FAIRY MYTHOLOGY. 
 
 m 
 
 "O no, no, Thomas," she said ; 
 
 " That name does not belang to me ; 
 I am but the queen of fair Elfland, 
 
 That am hither come to visit thee. 
 
 " Harp and carp, Thomas," she said ; 
 
 " Harp and carp along wi' me ; 
 And if ye dare to kiss my lips, 
 
 Sure of your bodie I will be." 
 
 " Betide me weal, betide me woe, 
 
 That weird * shall never dan ton me." 
 
 Syne he has kissed her rosy lips, 
 All underneath the Eildon Tree. 
 
 "Now, ye maun go wi' me," she said ; 
 
 " True Thomas, ye maun go wi' me; 
 And ye maun serve me seven years, 
 
 Thro' 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. 
 
 O they rade on, and farther on ; 
 
 The steed gaed swifter than the wind ; 
 Until they reached a desart wide, 
 
 And living land was left behind. 
 
 "tight 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 you 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 not ye 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 not ye that bonnie road, 
 That winds about the fernie brae? 
 
 That is the road to fair Elfland, 
 
 "Where thou and I this night maun gae. 
 
 * That rveird, &c— That destiny shall never 
 frighten me.— Scott. 
 
 " But, Thomas, ye maun hold your tongue, 
 
 Whatever ye may hear or see ; 
 For, if you speak word in Elflyn land, 
 
 Ye'U ne'er get back to your ain countrie." 
 
 they rade 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. 
 
 Syne they came on to a garden green, 
 And she pu'd an apple frae a treef — 
 
 " 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 wad gi'e 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 must it be." 
 
 He has gotten a coat of the even cloth, 
 And a pair of shoes of velvet green ; 
 
 And, till seven years were gane and past, 
 True Thomas on earth was never seen. $ 
 
 + The traditional commentary upon this bal- 
 lad informs us, that the apple was the produce 
 of the fatal Tree of Knowledge, and that the 
 garden was the terrestrial paradise. The repug- 
 nance of Thomas to be debarred the use of false- 
 hood, when he might find it convenient, has a 
 comic effect. — Scott. 
 
 $ The above ballad is given in the Border Min- 
 strelsy from a copy obtained from a lady, residing 
 not far from Ercildoun, corrected and enlarged 
 by one in Mrs Brown's MSS. In Mr Jamieson's 
 collection of Popular Ballads and Sonjis, the ori- 
 ginal old romance upon which this ballad is 
 is given from a MS. said to be of the 
 
472 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 Part Second. 
 
 ALTERED FROM ANCIENT PROPHECIES. 
 
 [" The prophecies, ascribed to Thomas of Er- 
 cildoune, have been the principal means of 
 securing to him remembrance ' amongst the sons 
 of his people.' The author of 'Sir Tristrem' 
 would long ago have joined, in the vale of obli- 
 vion, ' Clerk of Tranent, who wrote the adventure 
 of Schir Gawain,' if, by good hap, the same cur- 
 rent of ideas respecting antiquity, which causes 
 Virgil to be regarded as a magician by the Laza- 
 roni of Naples, had not exalted the bard of Er- 
 cildoune to the prophetic character. Perhaps, 
 indeed, he himself affected it during his life. We 
 know at least, for certain, that a belief in his 
 supernatural knowledge was current soon after 
 his death. His prophecies are alluded to by 
 Barbour, by Wintoun, and by Henry the Min- 
 strel, or Blind Harry, as he is usually termed. 
 None of these authors, however, give the words 
 of any of the Rhymer's vaticinations, but merely 
 narrate, historically, his having predicted the 
 events of which they speak. 
 
 " Spottiswoode, an honest, but credulous his- 
 torian, seems to have been a firm believer in the 
 authenticity of the prophetic wares, vended in 
 the name of Thomas of Ercildoun. ' The pro- 
 phecies, yet extant in Scottish rhymes, where- | 
 upon he was commonly called Thomas the 
 Rhymer, may justly be admired ; having foretold, 
 so many ages before, the union of England and 
 
 fifteenth century, in the public library at Cam- 
 bridge, collated with a MS. in the library of the 
 cathedral of Lincoln, and another MS. in the 
 Cotton Library. Sir Walter, in an appendix to 
 the present ballad, also quotes a portion of the 
 original romance. " The same incidents are 
 narrated," he says, " even the expression is often 
 the same ; yet the poems are as different in ap- 
 pearance, as if the older tale had been regularly 
 and systematically modernized by a poet of the 
 present day." — The copy, as given by Mr Jamie- 
 son, is divided into three " Fyttes," or cantos, 
 the second and third being devoted mainly to 
 " prophecies." The length of the production, 
 and its antiquated diction, not to speak of other 
 objections which certain details in the narrative 
 might call forth, make us refrain from quoting it & 
 
 Scotland in the ninth degree of the Bruce's blood, 
 with the succession of Bruce himself to the crown, 
 being yet a child, and other divers particulars, 
 which the event hath ratified and made good. 
 Boethius, in his story, relateth his prediction of 
 King Alexander's death, and that he did foretel 
 the same to the earl of March, the day before it 
 fell out; saying, That before the next day at 
 noon, such a tempest should blow, as Scotland 
 had not felt for many years before. The next 
 morning, the day being clear, and no change 
 appearing in the air, the nobleman did challenge 
 Thomas of his saying, calling him an impostor. 
 He replied, that noon was not yet passed. About 
 which time, a post came to advertise the earl of 
 the king his sudden death. Then, said Thomas, 
 this is the tempest I foretold; and so it shall 
 prove to Scotland. Whence, or how, he had this 
 knowledge, can hardly be affirmed ; but sure it 
 is, that he did divine and answer truly of many 
 things to come.'— Spottiswoode, p. 47. Besides 
 that notable voucher, master Hector Boece, the 
 good archbishop might, had he been so minded, 
 have referred to Fordun for the prophecy of King 
 Alexander's death. That historian calls our 
 bard 'ruralis Me vates.' — Fordun, lib. x. cap. 40 
 " What Spottiswoode calls ' the prophecies ex- 
 tant in Scottish rhyme,' are the metrical produc- 
 tions ascribed to the prophet of Ercildoun, which, 
 with many other compositions of the same na- 
 ture, bearing the names of Bede, Merlin, Gildas, 
 and other approved soothsayers, are contained in 
 one small volume, published by Andro Hart, at 
 Edinburgh, 1615. Nisbet the herald (who claims 
 the prophet of Ercildoune as a brother-professor 
 of his art, founding upon the various allegorical 
 and emblematical allusions to heraldry) intimates 
 the existence of some earlier copy of his prophe- 
 cies than that of Andro Hart, which, however, 
 he does not pretend to have seen. The late ex- 
 cellent lord Hailes made these compositions the 
 subject of a dissertation, published in his ' Re- 
 marks on the History of Scotland.' His atten- 
 tion is chiefly directed to the celebrated prophecy 
 of our bard, mentioned by bishop Spottiswoode, 
 bearing, that the crowns of England and Scot- 
 land should be united in the person of a king, son 
 of a French queen, and related to Bruce in the 
 ninth degree. Lord Hailes plainly proves, that 
 this prophecy is perverted fro.o its original pur- 
 pose, in order to apply it to the succession of 
 James VI. The ground work of the forgery is to 
 be found in the prophecies of Berlingtou, con- 
 tained in the same collection, and runs thus: — 
 
FAIRY MYTHOLOGY. 
 
 4T3 
 
 Of Brace's left side shall spring out a leafe, 
 
 As ueeie as the ninth degree; 
 
 And shall be fleemed oflaire Scotland, 
 
 In France farre beyond the sea. 
 
 And then shall come againe ryding, 
 
 With eyes that many uaeu may see. 
 
 At Aberladie he shall light, 
 
 With hempen helteres and horse of tre. 
 
 H owever it happen for to fallj 
 
 The lyon shall he lord of all; 
 
 The French queu shall hearre the sonne, 
 
 Shal rule all Britainne to the sea; 
 
 Aue from the Bruce's blood shal come also, 
 
 As neere as the ninth degree. 
 
 Vet shal there come a keene knight over the salt sea, 
 A keene man of courage and bold man of amies ; 
 A duke's son dowbled (i. e. dubbed,) a borne man in 
 
 France, 
 That shall our mirths augment, and mend all our 
 
 After the date of our Lord, 1513, and thrice three 
 
 thereafter ; 
 Which shall brooke all the broad isle to himself, 
 Between 13 and thrice three the threip shal be ended, 
 The Saxons shall never recover after. 
 
 " There cannot be any doubt that this pro- 
 phecy was intended to excite the confidence of 
 the Scottish nation in the duke of Albany, regent 
 of Scotland, who arrived from France in 1515, 
 two years after the death of James IY. in the 
 fatal field of Flodden. The regent was descended 
 of Bruce by the left, i. e. by the female side, 
 within the ninth degree. His mother was 
 daughter of the earl of Boulogne, his father ban- 
 ished from his country — 'fleemit of fair Scotland.' 
 His arrival must necessarily be by sea, and his 
 landing was expected at Aberlady, in the Frith 
 of Forth. He was a duke's son, dubbed knight ; 
 and nine years, from 1513, are allowed him, by 
 the pretended prophet, for the accomplishment 
 of the salvation of his country, and the exaltation 
 of Scotland over her sister and rival. All this 
 was a pious fraud, to excite the confidence and 
 spirit of the country. 
 
 " The prophecy, put in the name of our 
 Thomas the Rhymer, as it stands in Hart's book, 
 refers to a later period. The narrator meets the 
 Rhymer upon a land beside a lee, who shows 
 him many emblematical visions, described in no 
 mean strain of poetry. They chiefly relate to 
 the fields of Flodden and Pinkie, to the national 
 distress which followed these defeats, and to 
 future halcyon days, which are promised to Scot- 
 land. One quotation or two will be sufficient to 
 establish this fully : — 
 
 Our Scottish king sal come ful keene, 
 The red lyon beareth he ; 
 
 A feddered arrow sharp, I weene, 
 Shall make him winke and warre to see. 
 Out of the field he shall be led, 
 When he is bludie and woe for blood; 
 Vet to his men shall he say, 
 1 For God's luve, turn you againe, 
 And give yon sutherne folk a frey ! 
 Why should I lose the right is mine ? 
 My date is not to die this day.' 
 
 " Who can doubt, for a moment, that this re- 
 fers to the battle of Flodden, and to the popular 
 reports concerning the doubtful fate of James 
 IY. ? Allusion is immediately afterwards made 
 to the death of George Douglas, heir apparent of 
 Angus, who fought and fell with his sovereign : 
 
 " The well-known arms of the Douglas family 
 are the heart and three stars. In another place, 
 the battle of Pinkie is expressly mentioned by 
 name:— 
 
 At Pinken Cluch there shall be spilt 
 Much gentle blond that day ; 
 There shall the bear lose the guilt, 
 And the eagiu bear it away. 
 
 " To the end of all this allegorical and mystical 
 rhapsody, is interpolated, in the later edition by 
 Andro Hart, a new edition of Berlington's verses, 
 before quoted, altered and manufactured so as 
 to bear reference to the accession of James VI., 
 which had just then taken place. The insertion 
 is made with a peculiar degree of awkwardness, 
 betwixt a question, put by the narrator, con- 
 cerning the name and abode of the person who 
 showed him these strange matters, and the 
 answer of the prophet to that question: 
 
 ' Then to the Iieirne could I say, 
 Where dwells thou, or in what countrie ? 
 [Or who shall rule the isle of Britane, 
 From the north to the south sey ? 
 A French queene shall beare the sonne, 
 Shall rule all Britaine to the sea ; 
 Which of the Bruce's blood shall come, 
 As neere as the nint degree: 
 Lfrained fast what was his name, 
 Where that he came, from what country.] 
 In Eislingtouu I dwell at haiue, 
 Thomas Kymour men cals me.' 
 
 "There is surely no one, who will not conclude, 
 with lord Hailes, that the eight lines, inclosed in 
 brackets, are a clumsy interpolation, borrowed 
 from Berlington, with such alterations as might 
 render the supposed prophecy applicable to the 
 union of the crowns. 
 
474 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 " "While we are on this subject, it may be pro- 4 
 per briefly to notice the scope of some of the I 
 other predictions, in Hart's Collection. As the 
 prophecy of Berlington was intended to raise the 
 spirits of the nation, during the regency of Al- 
 bany, so those of Sybilla and Eltraine refer to 
 that of the earl of Arran, afterwards duke of 
 Chatelhefrault, during the minority of Mary, a 
 period of similar calamity. This is obvious from 
 the following verses : — 
 
 Take a thousand in calculation, 
 And the (ingest of the lyon, 
 Four crescents under one crowne, 
 Wiih Saint Andrew's croce thrise, 
 Then threescore and thrive three : 
 Take tent to Merling truely, 
 Then shall the wures ended be, 
 
 In that yere there shall a king, 
 A duke, and no crowned king; 
 Becaus the prince shall be yong, 
 And tender of yeares. 
 
 " The date, above hinted at, seems to be 1549, 
 when the Scottish regent, by means of some suc- 
 cours derived from France, was endeavouring to 
 repair the consequences of the fatal battle of 
 Pinkie. Allusion is made to the supply given to 
 the " Moldwarte (England) by the fained hart," 
 (the earl of Angus ) The regent is described by 
 his bearing the antelope ; large supplies are pro- 
 mised from France, and complete conquest pre- 
 dicted to Scotland and her allies. Thus was the 
 same hackneyed stratagem repeated, whenever 
 the interest of the rulers appeared to stand in 
 need of it. The regent was not, indeed, till after 
 this period, creat-d duke of Chatelherault ; but 
 that honour was the object of his hopes and ex- 
 pectations. 
 
 " The style of all the prophecies, published by 
 Hart, is very much the same. The measure is 
 alliterative, and somewhat similar to that of 
 'Pierce Plowman's Visions;' a circumstance 
 which might entitle us to ascribe to some of them 
 an earlier date than the reign of James V., did 
 we not know that ' Sir Gallorau of Galloway,' 
 and ' Gawaine and Gologras,' two romances ren- 
 dered almost unintelligible by the extremity of 
 affected alliteration, are perhaps not prior to that 
 period. Indeed, although we may allow, that, 
 during much earlier times, prophecies, under the 
 names of those celebrated soothsayers, have been 
 current in Scotland, yet those published by Hart 
 have obviously been so often vamped and re- 
 vamped, to serve the political purposes of differ- 
 ent periods, that it may be shrewdly suspected, 
 
 that, as in the case of Sir John Cutler's transmi- 
 grated stockings, very little of the original mate- 
 rials now remains. 
 
 "If there still remain, therefore, among these 
 predictions, any verses having a claim to real 
 antiquity, it seems now impossible to discover 
 them from those which are comparatively modern. 
 Nevertheless, as there are to be found, in these 
 compositions, some uncommonly wild and mas- 
 culine expressions, the editor has been induced to 
 throw a few passages together, into the sort of 
 | ballad to which this disquisition is prefixed. It 
 would, indeed, have been no difficult matter for 
 him, by a judicious selection, to have excited, in 
 favour of Thomas of Erceldoune, a share of the 
 admiration, bestowed by sundry wise persons 
 upon Mass Robert Fleming. For example :— 
 
 ' But then the lilye shall be loused when they least 
 
 think; 
 Then clear king's blood shal quake f;;r fear of death ; 
 For churls shal chop off heads of their chief beirns, 
 And carle of the crowns that Christ hath appointed. 
 
 Thereafter, on every side, sorrow shal arise ; 
 The barges of clear barons down shal be sunken j 
 Seculars shall sit in spiritual seats, 
 Occupying offices anointed as they were.' 
 
 " Taking the lilye for the emblem of France, 
 can there be a more plain prophecy of the mur- 
 der of her monarch, the destruction of her nobi- 
 lity, and the desolation of her hierarchy ? But, 
 without looking farther into the signs of the 
 times, the editor, though the least of all the pro- 
 phets, cannot help thinking, that every true 
 Briton will approve of his application of the last 
 prophecy quoted in the ballad. 
 
 " Hart's collection of prophecies was frequently 
 reprinted during the last century, probably to 
 favour the pretensions of the unfortunate family 
 of Stuart. 
 
 " Before leaving the subject of Thomas s predic- 
 tions, it may be noticed, that sundry rhymes, 
 passing for his prophetic effusions, are still cur- 
 rent among the vulgar. Thus, he is said to have 
 prophesied of the very ancient family of Haig o 
 Bemerside, 
 
 Betide, betide, whate'er betide, 
 Haig shall be Haig of Bemerside. 
 
 The grandfather of the present [1812] proprie- 
 tor of Bemerside had twelve daughters, before 
 his lady brought him a male heir The common 
 people trembled for the credit of their favourite 
 soothsayer The late Mr Haig was at length 
 
FAIRY MYTHOLOGY. 
 
 475 
 
 born, and their belief in the prophecy confirmed ', 
 beyond a shadow of doubt. 
 
 " Another memorable prophecy bore, that 
 the Old Kirk at Kelso, constructed out of the 
 ruins of the abbey, should 'fall when at the 
 fullest.' At a very crowded sermon, about thirty 
 years ago, a piece of lime fell from the roof of the 
 church. The alarm, for the fulfilment of the 
 ■words of the seer, became universal ; and happy 
 were they, who were nearest the door of the pre- 
 destined edifice. The church was in consequence 
 deserted, and has never since had an opportunity 
 of tumbling upon a full congregation. I hope, 
 for the sake of a beautiful specimen of Saxo- 
 Gothic architecture, that the accomplishment of 
 this prophecy is far distant. 
 
 "Another prediction, ascribed to the Rhymer, 
 seems to have been founded on that sort of 
 insight into futurity, possessed by most men of a 
 sound and combining judgment. It runs thus : 
 
 At Eildon Tree if you shall be, 
 
 A brigg ower Tweed you there may see. 
 
 " The spot in question commands an extensive 
 prospect of the course of the river ; and it was 
 easy to foresee, that when the country should 
 become in the least degree improved, a bridge 
 would be somewhere thrown over the stream. 
 In fact, you now see no less than three bridges 
 from that elevated situation. 
 
 " Corspatrick (Comes Patrick,) Earl of March, 
 but more commonly taking his title from his 
 castle of Dunbar, acted a noted part during the 
 wars of Edward I. in Scotland. As Thomas of 
 Erceldoune is said to have delivered to him his 
 famous prophecy of King Alexander's death, the 
 editor has chosen to introduce him into the fol- 
 lowing ballad. All the prophetic verses are 
 selected from Hart's publication." — Minstrelsy of 
 the Scottish Border.'] 
 
 When seven years were come and gane, 
 The sun blinked fair on pool and stream ; 
 
 And Thomas lay on Huntlie bank, 
 Like one awakened from a dream. 
 
 He heard the trampling of a steed, 
 
 He saw the flash of armour flee, 
 And he beheld a gallant knight 
 
 Come riding down by the Eildon-tree. 
 
 He was a stalwart knight, and strong; 
 
 Of giant make he 'peared to be : 
 He stirr'd his horse, as he were wode, 
 
 Wi' gilded spurs, of faushion free. 
 
 Says—" "Well met, well met, true Thomas ! 
 
 Some uncouth ferlies show to me." 
 Says—" Christ thee save, Corspatrick brave ! 
 
 Thrice welcome, good Dunbar, to me 1 
 
 ''Light down, light down, Corspatrick brave, 
 And I will show thee curses three, 
 
 Shall gar fair Scotland greet and grane, 
 And change the green to the black livery. 
 
 " A storm shall roar this very hour, 
 From Ros3e's Hills to Solway sea." 
 
 " Ye lied, ye lied, ye warlock hoar ! 
 
 For the sun shines sweet on fauld and lea. 1 
 
 He put his hand on the earlie's head; 
 
 He showed him a rock, beside the sea, 
 "Where a king lay stiff, beneath his steed, * 
 
 And steel-dight nobles wiped their e'e. 
 
 "The neist curse lights on Branxton hills: 
 By Flodden's high and heathery side, 
 
 Shall wave a banner red as blude, 
 
 And chieftains throng wi' meikle pride. 
 
 " A Scottish king shall come full keen ; 
 
 The ruddy lion beareth he : 
 A feather'd arrow sharp, I ween, 
 
 Shall make him wink and warre to see. 
 
 " "When he is bloody, and all to bledde, 
 Thus to his men he still shall say — 
 
 ' For God's sake, turn ye back again, 
 And give yon southern folk a fray ! 
 
 "Why should I lose the right is mine ? 
 My doom is not to die this day." f 
 
 " Yet turn ye to the eastern hand, 
 And woe and wonder ye sail see ; 
 
 How forty thousand spearmen stand, 
 Where yon rank river meets the sea. 
 
 " There shall the lion lose the gylte, 
 And the libbards bear it clean away; 
 
 At Pinkyn Cleuch there shall be spilt 
 Much gentil blude that day." 
 
 * King Alexander, killed by a fall from his 
 horse, near Kinghorn. — Scott. 
 
 t The uncertainty which long prevailed in 
 Scotland, concerning the fate of James IV., is 
 well known. — Scott. 
 

 
 476 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 
 " Enough, enough, of curse and ban ; % 
 
 ■ traditional account of his marvellous return to 
 
 
 
 Some blessings show thou now to me, 
 
 Fairy Land.] 
 
 
 
 Or, by the faith o' my bodie," Corspatiick said, 
 
 
 
 
 " Ye shall rue the day ye e'er saw me I" 
 
 When seven years more were come and gone 
 Was war through Scotland spread, 
 
 
 
 "The first of blessings I shall thee show, 
 
 And Ruberslaw show'd high Dunyon f 
 
 
 
 Is by a burn, that's call'd of bread ; * 
 
 His beacon blazing red. 
 
 
 
 Where Saxon men shall tine the bow, 
 
 
 
 
 And find their arrows lack the head. 
 
 Then all by bonnie Coldingknow, $ 
 Pitched palliouns took their room, 
 
 
 
 " Beside that brigg, out ower that burn, 
 
 And crested helms, and spears a rowe, 
 
 
 
 Where the water bickereth bright and sheen, 
 
 Glanced gaily through the broom. 
 
 
 
 Shall many a falling courser spurn, 
 
 
 
 
 And knights shall die in battle keen. 
 
 The Leader, rolling to the Tweed, 
 Resounds the ensenzie ; § 
 
 
 
 " Beside a headless cross of stone, 
 
 They roused the deer from Caddenhead, 
 
 
 
 The libbards there shall lose the gree ; 
 
 To distant Torwoodlee. || 
 
 
 
 The raven shall come, the erne shall go, 
 
 
 
 
 And drink the Saxon blude sae free. 
 
 The feast was spread in Ercildoune, 
 
 
 
 The cross of stone they shall not know, 
 
 In Learmont's high and ancient hall ; 
 
 
 
 So thick the corses there shall be." 
 
 And there were knights of great renown, 
 And ladies, laced in pall. 
 
 
 
 ** But tell me now," said brave Dunbar, 
 
 
 
 
 "True Thomas, tell now unto me, 
 
 Nor lacked they, while they sat at dine, 
 
 
 
 What man shall rule the isle Britain, 
 
 The music, nor the tale, 
 
 
 
 Even from the north to the southern sea t" 
 
 Nor goblets of the blood-red wine, 
 Nor mantling quaighslf of ale. 
 
 
 
 " A French queen shall bear the son, 
 
 
 
 
 Shall rule all Britain to the sea ; 
 
 True Thomas rose, with harp in hand, 
 
 
 
 He of the Bruce's blude shall come, 
 
 When as the feast was done ; 
 
 
 
 As near as in the ninth degree. 
 
 (In minstrel strife, in Fairy Land, 
 The elfin harp he won.) 
 
 
 
 " The waters worship shall his race ; 
 
 
 
 
 Likewise the waves of the farthest sea ; 
 
 Hush'd were the throng, both limb and tongue 
 
 
 
 For they shall ride ower ocean wide, 
 
 And harpers for envy pale ; 
 
 
 
 With hempen bridles, and horse of tree." 
 
 And armed lords lean'd on their swords, 
 
 
 
 Part Third. 
 
 And hearken'd to the tale. 
 
 
 f Ruberslaw and Dunyon are two hills above 
 Jedburgh. — Scott. 
 
 
 Modern. — By Sir Walter Scott. 
 
 % An ancient tower near Ercildoune, belong- 
 ing to a family of the name of Home. One of 
 
 
 
 [This the author calls an attempt to com- 
 
 Thomas's prophecies is said to have run thus : — 
 
 
 
 memorate the Rhymer's poetical fame, and the 
 
 Vengeance! vengeance! when and where ? 
 
 On the house of Coldingknow, now and ever mair ! 
 
 The spot is rendered classical by its having 
 
 
 * One of Thomas's rhymes, preserved by tradi- 
 
 
 tion, runs thus • — 
 
 given name to the beautiful melody, called the 
 " Broom o' the Cowdenknows." — Scott. 
 
 
 
 « The burn of breid 
 Shall run fow reid." 
 
 § Ensenzie— War-cry, or gathering word. 
 
 |[ Torwoodlee and Caddenhead are places in 
 
 
 
 Bannock-burn is the brook here meant. The 
 
 Selkirkshire .—Scott. 
 
 
 
 Soots give the name of bannock to a thick round 
 
 % Quaighs—VfooAen cups, composed of staves 
 
 
 
 cake of unleavened bread.— Scott. i 
 
 } hooped together. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
FAIRY MYTHOLOGY. 
 
 477 
 
 In numbers high, the witching tale 
 
 The prophet pour'd along ; 
 No after bard might e'er avail 
 
 Those numbers to prolong. 
 
 Yet fragments of the lofty strain 
 
 Float down the tide of years, 
 As buoyant on the stormy main, 
 
 A parted wreck appears. 
 
 He sung King Arthur's Table Round : 
 
 The Warrior of the lake ; 
 How courteous Gawaine met the wound, 
 
 And bled for ladies' sake. * 
 
 But chief, in gentle Tristrem's praise, f 
 
 The notes melodious swell ; 
 Was none excell'd, in Arthur's days, 
 
 The knight of Lionelle. 
 
 For Marke, his cowardly uncle's right, 
 
 A venomed wound he bore ; 
 When fierce Morholde he slew in fight, 
 
 Upon the Irish shore. 
 
 No art the poison might withstand ; 
 
 No medicine could be found, 
 Till lovely Isolde's lily hand 
 
 Had probed the rankling wound. 
 
 With gentle hand and soothing tongue 
 
 She bore the leech's part j 
 And, while she o'er his sick-bed hung, 
 
 He paid her with his heart. 
 
 O fatal was the gift, I ween ' 
 
 For, doom'd in evil tide, 
 The maid must be rude Cornwall's queen, 
 
 His cowardly uncle's bride. 
 
 * See, in the Fabliaux of Monsieur le Grand, 
 elegantly translated by the late Gregory Way, 
 Esq. the tale of the " Knight and the Sword."— 
 Scott. 
 
 f Thomas the Rhymer is the- reputed author of 
 the celebrated romance of " Sir Tristrem," the 
 earliest specimen of Scottish poetry extant, an 
 edition of which was published by Sir Walter 
 Scott, in 1804, from a MS. copy in the Advocates' 
 Library, Edinburgh, with a copious historical 
 and critical Introduction, and also a very happy 
 imitative continuation of the romance, by the 
 editor. 
 
 Their loves, their woes, the gifted bard 
 
 In fairy tissue wove ; 
 Where lords, and knights, and ladies bright, 
 
 In gay confusion strove. 
 
 The Garde Joyeuse, amid the tale, 
 High rear'd its glittering head ; 
 
 And Avalon's enchanted vale 
 In all its wonders spread. 
 
 Brangwain was there, and Segramore, 
 And fiend-born Merlin's gramarye ; 
 
 Of that famed wizard's mighty lore, 
 O who could sing but he ? 
 
 Through many a maze the winning song 
 
 In changeful passion led, 
 Till bent at length the listening throng 
 
 O'er Tristrem's dying bed. 
 
 His ancient wounds their scars expand, 
 With agony his heart is wrung : 
 
 O where is Isolde's liiye hand, 
 
 And where her soothing tongue ? 
 
 She comes 1 she comes !— like flash of flame 
 
 Can lovers' footsteps fly : 
 She comes ! she comes .' — she only came 
 
 To see her Tristrem die. 
 
 She saw him die ; her latest sigh 
 Joined in a kiss his parting breath : 
 
 The gentlest pair that Britain bare, 
 United are in death. 
 
 There paused the harp : its lingering sound 
 
 Died slowly on the ear ; 
 The silent guests still bent around, 
 
 For still they seem'd to hear. 
 
 Then woe broke forth in murmurs weak ; 
 
 Nor ladies heav'd alone the sigh ; 
 But, half ashamed, the rugged cheek 
 
 Did many a gauntlet dry. 
 
 On Leader's stream, and Learmont's tower, 
 
 The mists of evening close ; 
 In camp, in castle, or in bower, 
 
 Each warrior sought repose. 
 
 Lord Douglas, in his lofty tent, 
 Dream'd o'er the woeful talo ; 
 
 When footsteps light, across the bent, 
 The warrior's ears assail. 
 

 
 
 
 4^3 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 He starts, he wakes ; — " What, Richard, ho 1 v 
 
 Arise, my page, arise ! 
 What venturous wight, at dead of night, 
 
 Dare step where Douglas lies !" 
 
 i " To Learmont's name no foot of earth 
 Shall here again belong, 
 And, on thy hospitable hearth, 
 The hare shall leave her young. 
 
 
 
 Then forth they rush'd : hy Leader's tide, 
 A selcouth sight they see — 
 
 A hart and hind pace side by side, 
 As white as snow on Fairnalie. f 
 
 " Adieu ! adieu !" again he cried, 
 All as he turned him roun'— 
 
 " Farewell to Leader's silver tide ! 
 Farewell to Ercildoune "' 
 
 
 
 Beneath the moon, with gesture proud, 
 They stately move and slow ; 
 
 Nor scare they at the gathering crowd, 
 Who marvel as they go. 
 
 The hart and hind approach'd the place, 
 
 As lingering yet he stood ; 
 And there, before Lord Douglas' face, 
 
 With them he cross'd the flood. 
 
 
 
 To Learmont's tower a message sped, 
 As fast as page might run ; 
 
 And Thomas started from his bed, 
 And soon his cloaths did on. 
 
 Lord Douglas leap'd on his berry-brown steed, 
 And spurr'd him the Leader o'er; 
 
 But, though he rode with lightning speed, 
 He never saw them more. 
 
 
 
 First he woxe pale, and then woxe red ; 
 
 Never a word he spake but three; 
 " My sand is run ; my thread is spun ; 
 
 This sign regardeth me." 
 
 Some sayd to hill, and some to glen, 
 Their wondrous course had been ; 
 
 But ne'er in haunts of living men 
 Again was Thomas seen. 
 
 
 
 The elfin harp his neck around, 
 In minstrel guise, he hung ; 
 
 And on the wind, in doleful sound, 
 Its dying accents rung. 
 
 
 
 
 
 Then forth he went; yet turned him oft 
 
 To view his ancient hall ; 
 On the grey tower, in lustre 60ft, 
 
 The autumn moon-beams fall. 
 
 Egttil $>gwfete. 
 
 [Modern Ballad. — James Hooo.J 
 
 
 
 And Leader's waves, like silver sheen, 
 Danced shimmering in the ray; 
 
 In deepening mass, at distance seen, 
 Broad Soltra's mountains lay. 
 
 Lyttil Pynkie caime to Kilbogye yett. 
 
 It wals on ane hallow-day; 
 And the ladye babyis with her mette, 
 
 To heirre quhat sho wolde say. 
 
 
 
 " Farewell, my father's ancient tower ! 
 
 A long farewell," said he: 
 " The scene of pleasure, pomp, or power. 
 
 Thou never more shalt be. 
 
 For Pynkie wals the lyttilest bairne, 
 That ever dancit on the greinne; 
 
 And Pynkie wals the bonnyest thynge 
 That evir on yirthe wals seinne. 
 
 
 
 * Selcouth — Wondrous, 
 f An ancient seat upon the Tweed, in Selkirk- 
 shire. In a popular edition of the first part of 
 Thomas the Rhymer, the Fairy Queen thus ad- 
 dresses him :— 
 
 " Gin ye wad meet wi' me again, 
 
 Gaag to the bonnie banks of Fairnalie."— Scott. ^ 
 
 Hir faice wals caste in beautye's molde, 
 And owre hir browe abone 
 
 Hir hayre wals lyke the streemys of golde 
 That tinssillis from the mone. 
 
 The smyle that playit upon hir faice 
 
 Wals comely to be scene, 
 And the bonnye blue that dyit the hevin 
 y Wals nevir lyke Pynkie's eeyne. 
 
 
 
 
 
FAIRY MYTHOLOGY. 
 
 4?9 
 
 Thre spannis from heele to lieidde sho stode, ^S 
 
 But all so meitte to se, 
 No mayden in hir myldest mode 
 
 Ane lovelier forme colde bee. 
 
 Quhaevir lokit at hir ane spaice, 
 
 Colde nevir calle to mynde 
 That she possessit not fraime and graice 
 
 Of stateliest womankynde. 
 
 The Baron ne caime forth to the greene, 
 
 And hee toke hir be the hande : 
 "Lyttil Pynkie, you are welcome heirre, 
 
 The flower of fayre Scotlande. 
 
 " You are welcome to myne bowris, Pynkie, 
 
 And to myne hallis so gaye, 
 And you shalle be myne lammie den-re, 
 
 And I'll fondle you nychte and daye." 
 
 " Och, no ! och, no ! myne owne gode lorde, 
 
 For that wolde bee ane synne ; 
 For if you toye or melle with me, 
 
 To hevin you'll nevir wynne." 
 
 " But I will taike myne chaunce, Pynkie, 
 
 For lofe is sore to thole ; 
 The joie of maydenis leifu' charmis 
 
 Can nevir stayne the soule." 
 
 " Better to thole than wynne the goale, 
 
 Quhare pryze is nonne before ; 
 The man quha wynnis myne lofe and mee, 
 
 Will nevir knowe mayden more. 
 
 " But I will syng ane sang to you, 
 
 And daunce ane fairye quheille, 
 Till you and all youre bonnie may bairnis II 
 
 Can daunce it wonder weille." 
 
 "Were I to telle Lyttil Pynkie's sang, 
 
 It mighte doo muckle ill ; 
 For it wals not framit of yirthly vvordis, 
 
 Though it soundit sweitte and shrill. 
 
 But aye the pwerworde of the sang, 
 
 Which ladyis lernit to syng, 
 Wals, " Rounde and rounde, and sevin tymis 
 
 The elfynis fairye ryng !" [rounde, 
 
 The firste moove that Lyttil Pynkie r.iaide, 
 
 Wals gentil, softe, and sweitte; 
 But the seconde rounde Lyttil Pynkie maide, 
 
 Theye colde not kenne hir feitte. 
 
 The thrydde rounde that Lyttil Pynkie 
 maide, 
 
 Sho shymmerit als lycht and gaye 
 Als dauncyng of the wiry lychtis 
 
 On warme and sonnye daye. 
 
 And aye sho sang, with twyrle and spang, 
 
 Arounde them on the playne, 
 Quhille hir feitte theye shymmerit abone 
 theyre hedis, 
 
 Then kyssit the swairde agayne. 
 
 Then the Baronne hee begoude to bobbe, 
 
 No longer colde hee stande, 
 And his lyttil maydenis in ane ryng 
 
 Theye joynit him hande to hande. 
 
 And rounde and rounde, and faster rounde, 
 
 The fairye ryng theye flewe ; 
 And aye the langer that theye daunsit, 
 
 The madder on fonne theye grewe. 
 
 And Lyttil Pynkie in the middi3 
 
 Bobbyt lyke ane flee in Maye, 
 And everilk spryng Lyttil Pynkie gaif, 
 
 The Baronne he cryit, " Hurraye !" 
 
 And rounde and rounde the fairye ryng 
 
 They lyltit and they sang, 
 And rounde and rounde the fairye ryng 
 
 They caiperit and they flang ; 
 
 Quhille the Baronne hee begoude to gaspe, 
 And his eeyne sette in his heidde; 
 
 Hee colde not dragg ane oder lymbe, 
 So neirlye he wals deidde, 
 
 And downe he felle upon the playne, 
 Prone lyke ane forme of leidde. 
 
 But aye quhan Pynkie made ane spryng 
 
 Betweinne him and the daye, 
 Hee maide a paulle with handis and feitte, 
 
 And gaif ane faynte " Hurraye !" 
 
 Hee streikit out his lymbis m dethe, 
 
 TJnpytied and unbleste ; 
 But " Hurraye !" it wals the ae last sounde 
 
 That gurglit in his breste. 
 
 The maydis theye daunsit and caiperit on 
 
 In madnesse and in blaiine ; 
 For lofe or stryffe, or dethe or lyffe. 
 
 To them wals all the saime. 
 

 
 
 TTISH BALLAD-. 
 
 
 But rounde and Brand f5evre,4fc And rounde and rounde the deidde Baronne 
 . a burdi* M WJ They flapperit and they flewe ; 
 - .yng the deidde man ■ , | And rounde and rounde the deidde Baronne 
 Than any yirthly tbyng. They burnpyt and tbeye blewe. 
 
 
 
 The men talis gadderit rounde and sawe 
 
 In terrour and d 
 Them dauneying rounde theyre deidde fader, 
 
 And Pynkie wals awaye. 
 
 tyuhill the Chaiplyng hee begonde to gaspe 
 
 And quhizle in the throtte, 
 And downe hee felle upon the greinne 
 
 Lyke ane greate mardel stotte. 
 
 
 
 "Och-on, och-on,'' toe Chaiplyng cryit, 
 
 " There'* some enchauntruente heirre; 
 
 Haute, haiste a»aj';, rnyne maydinis gaye, 
 
 1 r-Lainiefulle course forbeirre." 
 
 He streikit out his laithlye lymbU, 
 
 His eeyne sette in big heidde, 
 But "Agayne, agayne !" cairne with ane ryfte, 
 
 Quhill after hee wals deidde. 
 
 
 
 The maidinis left* the fairye ryng, 
 And c • tsome tonne, 
 
 Bu». U :.prehende one thyng 
 Of all that had beinne donne. 
 
 Then all the lande togedder ranne 
 
 To prieste and holy fryer, 
 And there wals prayeris in every kirke. 
 
 And hymnis in every quire ; 
 
 
 
 The Chaiplyng ranne into the ryng 
 tMOe, 
 
 And ealiit on six young bordlye wychtis, 
 
 For Lyttil Pynkie helde hir plaice 
 
 Atlordlye Ki 
 And of everilk chamber in the housse 
 
 L.. nil Pynkie keepit the ke. 
 
 
 
 I'ynkie in the rayddis 
 
 Shot • <i dauncit it rounde, 
 And all theyre grieflk wals donne. 
 
 So wordis gone eiste and wordis gone weste, 
 
 ■olwaye unto (be ' 
 And wordis gone to the greate Mass John 
 That livit on Cloudan syde. 
 
 
 
 The Chaiplyng hee begoude to bobbe, 
 And wagg his heede ai 
 
 .. ttmetk lythlye lyrnbis 
 Had veirlye turcit hit 
 
 So he is awaye to Kilbogye halle 
 These lordlys maidis to saive, 
 
 And conjure that wylde thyng away 
 Into the Reidd Sea's wave. 
 
 
 
 And rounde, and rounde, the deidde Baronne, 
 : -. uealle, 
 
 arcg menne 
 
 -': i..ke ane spynnyng quheiJie. 
 
 Quhan he caime to Kilbogye yette 
 
 He tirlit at the pynne, 
 And quha wals so readdye als Lyttil Pynkie 
 
 To ryse and let him in. 
 
 
 
 And ay they gang Lyttil Pynkies sang, 
 
 ■-. braye; 
 But sail'e the burden of that sang, 
 The wordis 1 daurna save. 
 
 " Bairne, I half wordis to say to you 
 On matter most sincere; 
 i Quhare is the countreye you caime frome, 
 And quha wak it 6ente you heirre ?" 
 
 
 
 quhan Pynkie made ane ry&e, 
 fitiulle lairye f];.r.z; 
 " Agayne, agayne '." the Chaiplyng cryit, 
 " Weille profen, myne bonnje thyng '. 
 
 " I caime from ane countreye farre a 
 A regioune cauluie arid sweitte, 
 ' For all the sternis of the milky waye 
 v.'ere farre benethe our feitt. 
 
 
 
 " Agayne, ag*.. 
 
 ..'ienyng screimme cryit hee, 
 " Oeh, let mee se that epryng agayne, 
 
 lofe niaye de '." ~ 
 
 " But I hai/romit this yirthlye sphere 
 
 Some vyrgin soulis to ■ 
 Since maidis were born the siaivee of love, 
 % Of sorrowe, and of synne. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 FAIRY MYTHOLOGY. 481 
 
 
 " By nychte and daye and glomyng graye, ^ "And you shall se the richte and wrong, 
 
 
 
 By grofe and greinwode tree ; 
 
 With soule of dredde withynne ; 
 
 
 
 Oh if you kennit quhat I haif donne 
 
 Quhat habitantis you dwelle amang, 
 
 
 
 To keippe them fayre and free ! 
 
 Quhat worlde you sojourne in." 
 
 
 
 " I haif satte upon theyre waifyng lockis 
 
 Sho touchit his eye, sho touchit his eirre, 
 
 
 
 Als daunceyng on the greinne, 
 
 With unguent of the skye, 
 
 
 
 And watchit the blushes of the cheeke 
 
 Distillit from flowris of hevinlye boweris, 
 
 
 
 And glances of the eeyne. 
 
 That nevir nevir die. 
 
 
 
 " I have whysperit dremys into theyre 
 
 Mass John hee turnit him rounde aboute, 
 
 
 
 eirris, 
 
 To se quhat hee colde se ; 
 
 
 
 Of all the snairis of lofe ; 
 
 " Quhat's this ! quhafs this!" cryit goode Ma s 
 
 
 
 And coolit theyre yong and hopyng brestis 
 
 " Quhat hath befallen mee ! [J ohn, 
 
 
 
 With dewis distyllit abofe." 
 
 " For outhir I am sounde asleippe, 
 
 
 
 "But thou wylde and wycked thyng, 
 
 And in ane feirsome dreime ; 
 
 
 
 Thynk of this virgyn bande, 
 
 Or else I'm deidd, and gane to hevin, 
 
 
 
 Thou'st taiken theyre fader from theyre 
 heid, 
 Theyre pastor from theyre hand." 
 
 Which raither wolde beseime. 
 
 
 
 " For spyritis come and spyritis go, 
 
 
 
 
 Of eviry shaipe and shaide, 
 
 
 
 " That fader wals ane man so wylde, 
 
 With ghostis and demonis not ane few, 
 
 
 
 Disgraice of human fraime ; 
 
 Sothe I am sore afrayde ! 
 
 
 
 Hee kepit sevin lemanis in his halle, 
 
 
 
 
 And maide it house of shaime ; 
 
 " Quhare is — quhare is Lyttil PynMe gone ? 
 
 
 
 And his fat Chaiplyng — worste of alle, 
 
 I cannot brooke this payne; — 
 
 
 
 Theyre dedis I maye not naime. 
 
 Oh ! taik this oyntment off myne eeyne, 
 And maike mee blynde agayne. 
 
 
 
 " Before ane of those maydis had blomit 
 
 
 
 
 In lofely laidyhode, 
 
 " How can I live, or moove, or thynk 
 
 
 
 Each wold haif loste hir quhite cleethyng, 
 
 With spiritis to congree ; 
 
 
 
 But and hir sylken snode. 
 
 I no acquaintance haif of them, 
 And they haif nonne of mee !" 
 
 
 
 " Then blaime me not now, good Mass 
 
 
 
 
 John, 
 
 But Lyttil Pynkie she wals gane 
 
 
 
 For workyng of this skaithe ; 
 
 Awaye by daille and glenne, 
 
 
 
 It wals the mennis besettyng synne 
 
 To guardc the vyrginis of the lande 
 
 
 
 That tosted them to dethe. 
 
 From wylis of wycked menne. 
 
 
 
 " But now, Mass John, I know you are 
 
 And goode Mass John is lefte alone 
 
 
 
 A gude man and ane true ; 
 
 'Mang spyritis of everilk hue ; 
 
 
 
 Therefore I yield my vyrgin chairge 
 
 There were spyritis blacke, and spyritis quhyte, 
 
 
 
 With plesure up to you. 
 
 And spyritis greene and blue. 
 
 
 
 " For there is moche for me to doo 
 
 And theye were moovyng too and fro 
 
 
 
 'Mong maydenis mylde and meike; 
 
 'Mang thyngis of mortal birthe, 
 
 
 
 Men are so wycked heire belowe, 
 
 Als tbicke als burdis upon the bough, 
 
 
 
 And wemyng are so weake. 
 
 Or human thingis on yirth. 
 
 
 
 " But I will baithe your eeyne, Mass John, 
 
 Eache vyrgin had ane guardian fere, 
 
 
 
 With unguent of the skye; 
 
 Als fayre as flowir of Maye ; 
 
 
 
 And you shall heirre with Oder eirre, 
 
 And hee himself ane great blacke dougge 
 
 
 
 And se with oder eye. ^ 
 
 <j That wolde not pass awaye. 
 ' 2h 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 482 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 And some had devilis to bee theyre maitis, i& There wals no thoughtis withynne the hertis, 
 
 
 
 And some had two or thre, 
 
 Though secrete and untolde, 
 
 
 
 That playit soche prankis with maidis and 
 
 But theye were acted in his sychte 
 
 
 
 Sanctis, 
 
 By spyritis manifolde. 
 
 
 
 As wals ane shaime to se. 
 
 He wyshed for dethe, and colde not lie 
 
 
 
 And then the dougge— the great blacke 
 
 Suche strange enchantment under, 
 
 
 
 dougge, 
 
 Thus wanderyng with a spyritis eye 
 
 
 
 Kept lokyng in his faice, 
 
 Amid a worlde of wonder. 
 
 
 
 With many a dark and meanyng scowlle, 
 
 
 
 
 And many a sly grimaice. 
 
 For manne most be ane mortyl thyng, 
 With ane immortyl mynde, 
 
 
 
 It wals ane lyffe hee colde not brooke, 
 
 Or passe the dore of dethe, and leive 
 
 
 
 He wals so hard bestedde ; 
 
 Mortalitye behynde. 
 
 
 
 He colde not preiehe, hee colde not praye — 
 
 
 
 
 He colde not sleippe in bedde. 
 
 So goode Mass John longit ferventlye 
 That lyffe with him were donne, 
 
 
 
 For evin within the haly kirke, 
 By that amaizyng spelle, 
 
 To mix with spiritis or with menne, 
 But only with the onne. 
 
 
 
 He saw some seen is before his faice 
 Als I can hardlye telle. 
 
 And then the dougge, the greate blacke dougge, 
 
 Wals ever in his plaice ; 
 Evin at the altar there it stode, 
 
 
 
 Soche als ane spyrit spreddyng clothe 
 
 And stairit him in the faice. 
 
 
 
 Before ane tailoris eeyne ; 
 
 
 
 
 And hee wals steillyng in his herte, 
 
 Mass John wente home and layit him downe, 
 
 
 
 Trowing hee wals not 6eene. 
 
 And soon wals with the deidde, 
 And the bonnye maydis of Kilbogye 
 
 
 
 And some wolde shaike ane mychtie purse 
 
 Are lefte withoute ane heidde. 
 
 
 
 Before the courtieris sychte, 
 
 
 
 
 Quha solde his countrye for the.saime 
 
 Quhan sevin long yeris had come and passit, 
 
 
 
 With very greate delychte. 
 
 With blynke and showir awaye, 
 Then Lyttil Pynkie sho caime backe 
 
 
 
 And some were throwyng cairdis and dysse 
 
 Upon ane hallow-daye. 
 
 
 
 To many a drowsye wychte, 
 
 
 
 
 Quha playit and cursit, and cursit and 
 
 But the straynis that Lyttil Pynkie sung 
 
 
 
 playit, 
 
 At settying of the sonne, 
 
 
 
 Before theyre pastoris sychte. 
 
 Were nevir forgotte by old or young, 
 Quhill lyffe with them wals done. 
 
 
 
 And some were wooyng maydinis dynke 
 With sylkis and satynis fyne, 
 
 And some with vowis and wycked teris, 
 Ane very deirre propyne. 
 
 Quhat then wals sayit, or quhat was donne, 
 
 No mynstrelle evir knewe ; 
 But the bonnye maydis of Kilbogye 
 
 With beauty blomit anewe. 
 
 
 
 ADd some were tyckelling maydinis onlde 
 
 Some demyt that theye wolde pass awaye 
 
 
 
 With thoughtis of manlye youth ; 
 
 To Oder lande than this ; 
 
 
 
 Yea, half the scenis the kirke withynne 
 
 But they lyvit the lyvis that wemyng lofe, 
 
 
 
 Were synnfulle and uncouthe. 
 
 Of sociale yirthlie blisse. 
 
 
 
 Mass John aft tryit to close his eeyne 
 
 But many a taille in westlande daille, 
 
 
 
 And shutte them from his sychte ; 
 
 Quainte rhyme and fairye laye, 
 
 
 
 For there were prankis so very drolle, 
 
 There yet remaynis of Pynkie's straynis, 
 
 
 
 Theye maide him laugh outrychte. ^ 
 
 h Upon the hallow-daye. 
 
 
 
FAIRY MYTHOLOGY. 433 
 
 I 
 
 ^ " And aye we raide, and se merrily we raide, 
 
 
 Throw the merkist gloffis of the night j 
 
 %\t Mitcb of §iU. 
 
 And we swam the floode, and we darnit the 
 woode, 
 
 
 Till we cam' to the Lommond height. 
 
 [From " The Queen's Wake," by James Hogg.] 
 
 
 
 " And quhan we cam' to the Lommond 
 
 " Quhare haif ye been, ye ill womyne, 
 
 height, 
 
 These three lang nightis fra hame 
 
 Se lythlye we lychtid doune ; 
 
 Quhat garris the sweit drap fra yer brow, 
 
 And we drank fra the hornis that never grew, 
 
 Like clotis of the saut sea faem ? 
 
 The beer that was never browin. 
 
 " It fearis me muckil ye haif seen 
 
 " Then up there raise ane wee wee man, 
 
 Quhat guid man never knew ; 
 
 Fra ntthe the moss-gray stane ; 
 
 It fearis me muckil ye haif been 
 
 His fece was wan like the collifloure, 
 
 Quhare the gray cock never crew. 
 
 For he nouthir had blude nor bane. 
 
 " But the spell may crack, and the brydel 
 
 " He set ane reid-pipe til his muthe, 
 
 breck, 
 
 And he playit se bonnilye, 
 
 Then sherpe yer werde will be ; 
 
 Till the gray curlew and the black-cock flew 
 
 Ye had better sleippe in yer bed at hame, 
 
 To listen his melodye.. 
 
 Wi* yer deire littil bairnis and me." — ' 
 
 
 
 "It rang se sweit through the grein Lom- 
 
 " Sit doune, sit doune, my leil auld man, 
 
 mond, 
 
 Sit doune, and listen to me ; , 
 
 That the nycht-winde lowner blew ; 
 
 I'll gar the hayre stand on yer crown, 
 
 And it soupit alang the Loch Leven, 
 
 And the cauld sweit blind yer e'e. 
 
 And wakinit the white sea-mew. 
 
 " But tell nae wordis, my guid auld man, 
 
 " It rang se sweit through the grein Lommond, 
 
 Tell never word again ; 
 
 Se sweitly butt and se shill, 
 
 Or deire shall be yer courtisye, 
 
 That the wezilis laup out of their mouldy 
 
 And driche and sair yer pain. 
 
 holis, 
 
 
 And dancit on the mydnycht hill. 
 
 " The first leet night, quhan the new moon 
 
 
 set, 
 
 " The corby craw cam' gledgin' near, 
 
 Quhan all was douffe and mirk, 
 
 The ern ged veeryng bye ; 
 
 We saddled ouir naigis wi' the moon-fern 
 
 And the troutis laup out of the Leven Loch, 
 
 leif, 
 
 Charmit with the melodye. 
 
 And rode fra Kilmerrin kirk. 
 
 
 
 "And aye we dancit on the grein Lommond, 
 
 " Some horses ware of the brume-cow framit, 
 
 Till the dawn on the ocean grew : 
 
 And some of the greine bay tree ; 
 
 Ne wonder I was a weary wycht 
 
 But mine was made of ane humloke schaw, 
 
 Quhan I cam' hame to you." 
 
 And a stout stallion was he. 
 
 
 
 "Quhat guid, quhat guid, my weird weird 
 
 "We raide the tod doune on the hill, 
 
 wyfe, 
 
 The martin on the law ; 
 
 Quhat guid was that to thee ? 
 
 And we huntyd the hoolet out of brethe, 
 
 Ye wald better haif bein in yer bed at hame, 
 
 And forcit him doune to fa'." — 
 
 Wi' yer deire littil bairnis and me." 
 
 " Quhat guid was that, ye ill womyne ? 
 
 " The second nycht, quhan the new moon set, 
 
 Quhat guid was that to thee ? 
 
 O'er the roaryng sea we fl*w ; 
 
 Ye wald better haif been in yer bed at hame, 
 
 The cockle-shell our trusty bark, 
 
 Wi' yer deire littil bairnis and me."— » 
 
 Our sailis of the grein sea -rue. 
 

 
 484 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 
 "And the bauld windis blew, and the fire- ab "And they washit us all with the witch-water, 
 
 
 
 flauchtis flew, 
 
 Distillit fra the muirland dew, 
 
 
 
 And the sea ran to the skie ; 
 
 Quhill our beauty blumit like the Lapland rose, 
 
 
 
 And the thunner it growlit, and the sea-dogs 
 
 That wylde in the foreste grew." — 
 
 
 
 howlit, 
 
 
 
 
 As we gaed scouryng bye. 
 
 " Ye lee, ye lee, ye ill womyne, 
 Se loud as I heir ye lee ! 
 
 
 
 " And aye we mountit the sea-grein hillis, 
 
 For the warst-faurd wyfe on the shoris of Fy fe 
 
 
 
 Quhill we brushit through the cludis of the 
 
 Is cumlye comparit wi' thee." — 
 
 
 
 hevin ; 
 
 
 
 
 Than sousit dounright like the stern -shot light, 
 
 " Then the mermaidis sang andthewoodlandis 
 
 
 
 Fra the liftis blue casement driven. 
 
 Se sweitly swellit the quire ; [rang, 
 On every cliff a herpe they hang, 
 
 
 
 " But our taickil stood, and our bark was good, 
 
 On every tree a lyre. 
 
 
 
 And Be pang was our pearily prowe ; 
 
 
 
 
 Quhan we culdna speil the brow of the wavis, 
 
 " And aye the sang, and the woodlandis rang, 
 
 
 
 We needilit them throu' belowe. 
 
 And we drank, and we drank se deip ; 
 Then saft in the armis of the warlock men. 
 
 
 
 " As fast as the hail, as fast aa the gale, 
 
 We laid us doun to sleip." — 
 
 
 
 As fast as the mydnycht leme, 
 
 
 
 
 We borit the breiste of the burstyng swale, 
 
 " Away, away, ye ill womyne, 
 
 
 
 Or fluflat i' the flotyng faem. 
 
 .An ill deide met ye dee ! 
 Quhan ye ha'e pruvit se false to yer God, 
 
 
 
 " And quhan to the Norraway shore we wan, 
 
 Ye can never pruve true to me." — 
 
 
 
 We muntyd our steedis of the wynde, 
 
 
 
 
 And we splashit the floode, and we darnit the 
 
 " And there we learnit fra the fairy foke, 
 
 
 
 woode, 
 
 And fra our master true, 
 
 
 
 And we left the shouir behynde. 
 
 The wordis that can beire us throu' the air, 
 And lokkis and barris undo. 
 
 
 
 " Fleit is the roe on the grein Lommond, 
 
 
 
 
 And swift is the couryng grew, 
 
 " Last nycht we met at Maisry's cot; 
 
 
 
 The rein-deir dun can eithly run, 
 
 Richt weil the wordis we knew ; 
 
 
 
 Quhan the houndis and the hornis pursue. 
 
 And we set a foot on the black cruik-shell, 
 And out at the lum we flew. 
 
 
 
 " But nowther the roe, nor the rein-deir dun, 
 
 
 
 
 The hinde nor the couryng grew, 
 
 " And we flew owr hill, and we flew owr dale, 
 
 
 
 Culde fly owr montaine, rnuir, and dale, 
 
 And we flew owr firth and sea, 
 
 
 
 As our braw steedis they flew. 
 
 Until we cam' to merry Carlisle, 
 Quhare we lightit on the lea. 
 
 
 
 " The dales war deep, and the Doffrinis steep, 
 
 
 
 
 And we raise to the skyis ee-bree ; 
 
 " We gaed to the vault beyound the towir, 
 
 
 
 Quhite, quhite was our rode, that was never 
 
 Quhare we enterit free as ayr; 
 
 
 
 trode, 
 
 And we drank, and we drank of the bishopis 
 
 
 
 Owr the snawis of eternity ! 
 
 Quhill we culde drynk ne mair."— [wine 
 
 
 
 " And quhan we cam' to the Lapland lone, 
 
 " Gin that be true, my guid auld wyfe. 
 
 
 
 The fairies war all in array ; 
 
 Whilk thou hast tauld to me, 
 
 
 
 For all the genii of the north 
 
 Betide my death, betide my lyfe, 
 
 
 
 War keipyng their holeday. 
 
 I'll beire thee companye. 
 
 
 
 " The warlock men and the weird wemyng, 
 
 " Neist tyme ye gaung to merry Carlisle 
 
 
 
 And the fays of the wood and the steip, 
 
 To drynk of the blude-reid wyne, 
 
 
 
 And the phantom hunteris all war there, 
 
 Beshrew my heart, I'll fly with thee, 
 
 
 
 And the mermaidis of the deip. ^ 
 
 } If the deil should fly behynde." 
 
 
 
 1 
 
FALKY MYTHOLOGY. 
 
 iS5 
 
 " Ah ! little do ye ken, my silly auld man. 
 
 The daingeris we maun dree ; 
 Last nychte we drank of the bishopis wyne, 
 
 Quhill near near ta'en war we. 
 
 " Afore we wan to the Sandy Ford, 
 
 The gor-cockis nichering flew; 
 The lofty crest of Ettrick Pen 
 
 Was wavit about with blue, 
 And, flichtering throu' the ayr, we fand 
 
 The chill chill momyng dew. 
 
 '•' As we flew ower the hillis of Braid, 
 
 The sun raise fair and cleir ; 
 There gurly James, and his baronis braw. 
 
 War out to hunt the deir. 
 
 " Their bowis they drew, their arrowis flew, 
 
 And piercit the ayr with speide, 
 Quhill purpil fell the mornyng dew 
 
 "Wi' witch-blude rank and reide. 
 
 " Littil do ye ken, my silly auld man, 
 
 The daingeris we maun dree ; 
 Ke wonder I am a weary wycht 
 
 Quhan I come hame to thee." — 
 
 " But tell me the word, my guid auld wyfe, 
 
 Come tell it speedilye : 
 For I lang to drynk of the guid reide wyne, 
 
 And to wyng the ayr with thee. 
 
 " Yer hellish horse I wilna ryde, 
 
 Nor sail the seas in the wynde ; 
 But I can flee as weil as thee, 
 
 And 111 drynk quhill ye be blynd."— 
 
 " fy ! O fy ! my leil auld man, 
 
 That word I darena tell ; 
 It wald turn this warld all upside down, 
 
 And make it warse than hell. 
 
 " For all the lasses in the land 
 
 Wald munt the wynde and fly ; 
 And the men wald doff their doublets syde, 
 
 And after them wald ply." — 
 
 But the auld guidman was ane cunnyng auld 
 man, 
 And ane cunnyng auld man was he ; 
 And he watchit, and he watchit for mony a 
 nychti, 
 The witches' flychte to see. 
 
 Ane nycht he darnit in Maisry's cot ; 
 
 The fearless haggs cam' in ; 
 And he heard the word of awsome weird, 
 
 And he saw their deidis of synn. 
 
 Then ane by ane they said that word, 
 
 As fast to the fire they drew ; 
 Then set a foot on the black cruik -shell, 
 
 And out at the lum they flew. 
 
 The auld guidman cam' fra his hole 
 
 With feire and muckil dreide, 
 But yet he culdna think to rue, 
 
 For the wyne cam' in his head. 
 
 He set his foot in the black cruik-shell, 
 With ane fixit and ane wawlying e'e ; 
 
 And he said the word that I darena say, 
 And out at the lum flew he. 
 
 The witches skalit the moon-beam pale ; 
 
 Deep groanit the trembling wynde ,- 
 But they never wist till our auld guidman 
 
 Was hoveryng them behynde. 
 
 They flew to the vaultis of merry Carlisle, 
 
 Quhare they enterit free as ayr ; 
 And they drank and they drank of the bishopis 
 
 Quhill they culde drynk ne mair. [wyne 
 
 The auld guidman he grew se arouse, 
 He dauncit on the mouldy ground, 
 
 And he sang the bonniest sangs of Fyfe, 
 And he tuzzlit the kerlyngs round. 
 
 And aye he piercit the tither butt, 
 
 And he suckit, and he suckit sae lang, 
 
 Quhill his een they closit, and his voice grew 
 And his tongue wald hardly gang. [low, 
 
 The kerlyngs drank of the bishopis wyne 
 Quhill they scentit the morning wynde ; 
 
 Then clove again the yielding ayr, 
 And left the auld man behynde. 
 
 And aye he sleipit on the damp damp floor, 
 
 He sleipit and he snorit amain ; 
 He never dreamit he was far fra hame, 
 
 Or that the auld wyvis war gane. 
 
 And aye he sleipit on the damp chimp floor. 
 
 Quhill past the mii-day highte, 
 Quhan wakenit by five re ugh Englishmen 
 
 That trailit him to the lychte. 
 

 
 
 
 486 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 " Now quha are ye, ye silly auld man, Q Scho put ane reide cap on his heide, 
 
 
 
 That sleipis se sound and se weil ? 
 
 And the auld guidman lookit fain, 
 
 
 
 Or how gat ye into the bishopis vault 
 
 Then whisperit ane word intil his lug, 
 
 
 
 Throu' lokkis and barris of steel ?" 
 
 And tovit to the ayr again. 
 
 
 
 The auld guidman he tryit to speak, 
 
 The auld guidman he ga'e ane bob, 
 
 
 
 But ane word he euldna fynde ; 
 
 I' the mids o' the burnyng lowe; 
 
 
 
 He tryit to think, but his head whirlit round, 
 
 And the sheklis that band him to the ring, 
 
 
 
 And ane thing he euldna mynde :— 
 
 They fell fra his armis like towe. 
 
 
 
 " I cam' fra Fyfe," the auld man cryit, 
 
 
 
 
 " And I cam* on the mydnicht wynde." 
 
 He drew his breath, and he said the word, 
 And he said it with muckil glee, 
 
 
 
 They nickit the auld man, and they prickit the 
 
 Then set his fit on the burnyng pile, 
 
 
 
 auld man, 
 
 And away to the ayr flew he. 
 
 
 
 And they yerkit his limbis with twine, 
 
 
 
 
 Quhill the reide blude ran in his hose and shoon, 
 
 Till aince he cleirit the swirlyng reike, 
 
 
 
 But some cryit it was wyne. 
 
 He lukit beth ferit and sad ; 
 But whan he wan to the lycht blue ayr, 
 
 
 
 They lickit the auld man, and they prickit the 
 
 He lauchit as he'd been mad. 
 
 
 
 auld man, 
 
 
 
 
 And they tyit him till ane stone ; 
 
 His armis war spred, and his heid was 
 
 
 
 And they set ane bele-fire him about, 
 
 hiche, 
 
 
 
 To burn him skin and bone. 
 
 And his feite stack out behynde ; 
 And the laibies of the auld manis cote 
 
 
 
 " wae to me I" said the puir auld man, 
 
 War waufling in the wynde. 
 
 
 
 " That ever I saw the day ! 
 
 
 
 
 And wae be to all the ill wemyng 
 
 And aye he neicherit, and aye he flew, 
 
 
 
 That lead puir men astray 1 
 
 For he thochte the ploy se raire ; 
 It was like the voice of the gainder blue, 
 
 
 
 " Let nevir ane auld man after this 
 
 Quhan he flees throu' the ayr. 
 
 
 
 To lawless greide inclyne ; 
 
 
 
 
 Let nevir ane auld man after this 
 
 He lukit back to the Carlisle men 
 
 
 
 Bin post to the deil for wyne." 
 
 As he borit the norlan sky ; 
 He noddit his heide, and ga'e ane girn, 
 
 
 
 The reike flew up in the auld manis face, 
 
 But he nevir said guid-bye. 
 
 
 
 And choukit him bitterlye; 
 
 
 
 
 And the lowe cam' up with ane angry blese, 
 
 They vanisht far i* the liftis blue wale, 
 
 
 
 And it syngit his auld breek-knee. 
 
 Ne mair the English saw, 
 But the auld manis lauche cam' on the 
 
 
 
 He lukit to the land fra whence he cam', 
 
 gale, 
 
 
 
 For lukis he culde get ne mae ; 
 
 With a lang and a loud gafla. 
 
 
 
 And he thochte of his deire little bairnis at 
 
 
 
 
 hame, 
 
 May evir ilke man in the land of Fyfe 
 
 
 
 And the auld man was wae ! 
 
 Read what the drinkeris dree ; 
 And nevir curse his puir auld wife, 
 
 
 
 But they turnit their facis to the sun, 
 
 Eychte wicked altho' scho be. 
 
 
 
 With gloffe and wonderous glair, 
 
 
 
 
 For they saw ane thing beth lairge and dun, 
 
 
 
 
 Comin' swaipin down the ayr. 
 
 
 
 
 That burd it cam' fra the landis o' Fyfe, 
 
 
 
 
 And it cam' rycht tymeouslye, 
 
 
 
 
 For quha was it but the auld manis wife, 
 
 
 
 
 Just comit his dethe to see. ^ 
 
 t 
 
 
 
 
 
FAIRY MYTHOLO&Y. 
 
 487 
 
 $Lmh §bmli$* 
 
 [Modern Ballad. — John Leyden. — From 
 the Border Minstrelsy. " The hero of this bal- 
 lad was "William, lord Soulis, who appears to 
 hare possessed the whole district of Liddesdale, 
 with "Westerkirk and KIrkandrews, in Dumfries- 
 shire, the lands of Gilmertoun, near Edinburgh, 
 and the rich baronies of isisbet, Longnewton, 
 Caverton, Maxtoun, and Mertoun, in Roxburgh- 
 shire. He was of royal descent, being the grand- 
 son of Nicholas de Soulis, who claimed the crown 
 of Scotland, in right of his grandmother, daugh- 
 ter to Alexander II.; and who, could her legiti- 
 macy have been ascertained, must have excluded 
 the other competitors. The elder brother of Wil- 
 liam, was John de Soulis, a gallant warrior, 
 warmly attached to the interests of his country, 
 who, with fifty borderers, defeated and made 
 prisoner Sir Andrew Harclay, at the head of 
 three hundred Englishmen ; and was himself 
 slain fighting in the cause of Edward the Bruce, 
 at the battle of Dundalk, in Ireland, 131S. He 
 had been joint-warden of the kingdom with 
 John Cummin, after the abdication of the im- 
 mortal Wallace, in 1300; in which character he 
 was recognised by John Baliol, who, in a charter 
 granted after his dethronement, and dated at 
 Butherglen, in the ninth year of his reign (1302,) 
 styles him ' Custos regni nostri.' The treason of 
 "William, his successor, occasioned the downfall 
 of the family. This powerful baron entered into 
 a conspiracy against Robert the Bruce, in which 
 many persons of rank were engaged. The ob- 
 ject, according to Barbour, was to elevate Lord 
 Soulis to the Scottish throne. The plot was dis- 
 covered by the countess of Strathern. Lord 
 Soulis was seized at Berwick, although he was 
 attended, says Barbour, by three hundred and 
 sixty squires, besides many gallaut knights. 
 Having confessed his guilt, in full parliament, 
 his life was spared by the king; but his domains 
 were forfeited, and he himself confined in the 
 castle of Dumbarton, where he died. Many of 
 his accomplices were executed; among others, 
 the gallant David de Brechin, nephew to the 
 king, whose sole crime was having concealed the 
 treason, in which he disdained to participate.* 
 
 As the people thronged to the execution of the 
 
 ? The parliament, in which so much noble blood 
 was shed, was long remembered by the name of 
 the ' Black Parliament.' It was held in the 
 year 1320. 
 
 " From this period, the family of Soulis makes 
 no figure in our annals. Local tradition, how- 
 ever, more faithful to the popular sentiment 
 than history, has recorded the character of their 
 chief, and attributed to him many actions which 
 seem to correspond with that character. His 
 portrait is by no means flattering; uniting every 
 quality which could render strength formidable, 
 and cruelty detestable. Combining prodigious 
 bodily strength with cruelty, avarice, dissimula- 
 tion, and treachery, is it surprising that a people, 
 who attributed every event of life, in a great mea- 
 sure, to the interference of good or evil spirits, 
 should have added to such a character the mysti- 
 tical horrors of sorcery ? Thus, he is represented as 
 a cruel tyrant and sorcerer; constantly employed 
 in oppressing his vassais, harassing his neighbours, 
 and fortifying his castle of Hermitage against the 
 king of Scotland ; for which purpose he employ- 
 ed all means, human and infernal ; invoking the 
 fiends, by his incantations, and forcing his vas- 
 sals to drag materials, like beasts of burden. 
 Tradition proceeds to relate, that the Scottish 
 king, irritated by reiterated complaints, peevish- 
 ly exclaimed to the petitioners, " Boil him if 
 you please, but let me hear no more of him.' 
 Satisfied with this answer, they proceeded with 
 the utmost haste to execute the commission ; 
 which they accomplished, by boiling him alive 
 on the Aine-stane Rig, in a cauldron, said to 
 have been long preserved at Skelf-hill, a hamlet 
 betwixt Hawick and the Hermitage. Messen- 
 gers, it is said, were immediately dispatched by 
 the king, to prevent the effects of such a hasty 
 declaration; but they only arrived in time to 
 
 favourite follower of Robert Bruce. " Why press you," 
 said he, " to see the dismal catastrophe of so gene- 
 rous a knight? I have seen ye throng as eagerly 
 around him to share his bounty, as now to behold his 
 death." "With these words he turned from the scene 
 of blood, and repairing to the kmg, craved leave to 
 sell his Scottish possessions, and to retire from the 
 country. "My heart," said Umfraville, "will not, 
 for the wealth of the world, permit me to dwell any 
 longer, where I have seen such a knight die by the 
 hands of the executioner." With the king's leave, he 
 interred the body of David de Brechin, sold his lands, 
 and left Scotland for ever. The story is beautifully 
 told by Barbour, book 19th.— Scott. 
 

 
 
 
 488 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 witness the conclusion of the ceremony. The ^ " While thou shalt bear a charmed life, 
 
 
 
 castle of Hermitage, unable to support the load 
 
 And hold that life of me, 
 
 
 
 of iniquity, which had long been accumulating 
 
 'Gainst lance and arrow, sword and knife, 
 
 
 
 within its walls, is supposed to have partly sunk 
 
 I shall thy warrant be. 
 
 
 
 beneath the ground ; and its ruins are still re- 
 
 
 
 
 garded by the peasants with peculiar aversion 
 
 " Nor forged steel, nor hempen band, 
 
 
 
 and terror. The door of the chamber, where 
 
 Shall e'er thy limbs confine, 
 
 
 
 Lord Soulis is said to have held his conferences 
 
 Till threefold ropes of sifted sand 
 
 
 
 with evil spirits, is supposed to be opened once 
 
 Around thy body twine. 
 
 
 
 in seven years, by that daemon, to which, when 
 
 
 
 
 he left the castle, never to return, he committed 
 
 "If danger press fast, knock thrice on the 
 
 
 
 the keys, by throwing them over his left shoulder, 
 
 chest, 
 
 
 
 and desiring it to keep them till his return. 
 
 With rusty padlocks bound ; 
 
 
 
 Into this chamber, which is really the dungeon 
 
 Turn away your eyes, when the lid shall rise, 
 
 
 
 of the castle, the peasant is afraid to look; for 
 
 And listen to the sound." 
 
 
 
 such is the active malignity of its inmate, that a 
 
 
 
 
 willow inserted at the chinks of the door, is 
 
 Lord Soulis he sat in Hermitage castle, 
 
 
 
 found peeled, or stripped of its bark, when 
 
 And Redcap was not by ; 
 
 
 
 drawn back. The Nine-stane Eig, where Lord 
 
 And he called on a page, who was witty and 
 
 
 
 Soulis was boiled, is a declivity about one mile 
 
 sage, 
 
 
 
 in breadth, and four in length, descending upon 
 
 To go to the barmkin high. 
 
 
 
 the water of Hermitage, from the range of hills 
 
 
 
 
 which separate Liddesdale and Teviotdale. It 
 
 " And look thou east, and.look thou west, 
 
 
 
 derives its name from one of those circles of 
 
 And quickly come tell to me, 
 
 
 
 large stones, which are termed Druidical, nine 
 
 What troopers haste along the waste, 
 
 
 
 of which remained to a late period. Five of 
 
 And what may their livery be." 
 
 
 
 these stones are still visible; and two are parti- 
 
 
 
 
 cularly pointed out, as those which supported 
 
 He looked o'er fell, and he looked o'er flat, 
 
 
 
 the iron bar, upon which the fatal cauldron 
 
 But nothing, I wist, he saw, 
 
 
 
 was suspended. 
 
 Save a pyot on a turret that sat 
 
 
 
 " The formation of ropes of sand, according to 
 
 Beside a corby craw. 
 
 
 
 popular tradition, was a work of such difficulty, 
 
 
 
 
 that it was assigned by Michael Scot to a num- 
 
 The page he look'd at the skrieh * of day. 
 
 
 
 ber of spirits, for which it was necessary for him 
 
 But nothing, 1 wist, he saw, 
 
 
 
 to find some interminable employment. Upon 
 
 Till a horseman gray, in the royal array, 
 
 
 
 discovering the futility of their attempts to ac- 
 
 Rude down the Hazel-shaw. 
 
 
 
 complish the work assigned, they petitioned 
 
 
 
 
 their task-master to be allowed to mingle a few 
 
 " Say, why why do you cross o'er muir and 
 
 
 
 handfuls of barley-chaff with the sand. On his 
 
 moss ?" 
 
 
 
 refusal, they were forced to leave untwisted the 
 
 So loudly cried the page ; 
 
 
 
 ropes which they had shaped. Such is the tradi- 
 
 " I tidings bring, from Scotland's king, 
 
 
 
 tionary hypothesis of the vermicular ridges of the 
 
 To Soulis of Hermitage. 
 
 
 
 sand on the shore of the sea. 
 
 
 
 
 " Redcap is a popular appellation of that class 
 
 " He bids me tell that bloody warden, 
 
 
 
 of spirits which haunt old castles. Every ruined 
 
 Oppressor of low and high, 
 
 
 
 tower in the south of Scotland is supposed to 
 
 If ever again his lieges complain, 
 
 
 
 have an inhabitant of this species." — Border 
 
 The cruel Soulis shall die." 
 
 
 
 Minstrelsy. 
 
 By traitorous sleight they seized the knight, 
 
 
 
 Lord Soulis he sat in Hermitage castle, 
 
 Before he rode or ran, 
 
 
 
 And beside him Old Redcap sly ;— 
 
 And through the key-stone of the vault, 
 
 
 
 " Now, tell me, thou sprite, who art meikle of 
 might, 
 The death that I must die ?" i 
 
 They plunged him, horse and man. 
 
 
 
 a * Skrieh— Peep. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 FAIEY MYTHOLOGY. 439 
 
 
 May she came, and May she gaed, < 
 
 k O'er heathy edge, through rustling sedge, 
 
 
 By Goranberry green ; 
 
 He sped till day was set ; 
 
 
 And May she was the fairest maid, 
 
 And he thought it was his merry men true, 
 
 
 That ever yet was seen. 
 
 When he the spearmen met. 
 
 
 May she came, aud May she gaed, 
 
 1 Far from relief, they seized the chief; 
 
 
 By Goranberry tower ; 
 
 His men were far away ; 
 
 
 And who was it but cruel Lord Soulis, 
 
 Thro' Hermitage Slack, they sent him back, 
 
 
 That carried her from her bower 
 
 To Soulis' castle gray ; 
 Syne onward fure for Branxholm tower, 
 
 
 He brought her to his castle gray, 
 
 Where all his merry men lay. 
 
 
 By Hermitage's side ; 
 
 
 
 Says — " Be content, my lovely May, 
 
 " Now, welcome, noble Branxholm's heir ! 
 
 
 For thou shalt be my bride." 
 
 Thrice welcome," quoth Soulis to me ! 
 " Say, dost thou repair to my castle fair, 
 
 
 1 With her yellow hair, that glittered fair, 
 
 My wedding guest to be . J 
 
 
 She dried the trickling tear ; 
 
 And lovely May deserves, per fay, 
 
 
 She sighed the name of Branxholm's heir, 
 
 A brideman such as thee !" 
 
 
 The youth that loved her dear. 
 
 And broad and bloody rose the sun, 
 
 
 * Now, be content, my bonnie May, 
 
 And on the barmkin shone ; 
 
 
 And take it for your hame ; 
 
 When the page was aware of Bed Bingan 
 
 
 Or ever and aye shall ye rue the day, 
 
 Who came riding all alone. [there, 
 
 
 You heard young Branxholm's name. 
 
 To the gate of the tower Lord Soulis he speeds, 
 
 
 " O'er Branxholm tower, ere the morning 
 
 As he lighted at the wall, 
 
 
 hour, 
 
 Says—" Where did ye stable my stalwart 
 
 
 "When the lift is like lead so blue, 
 
 steeds. 
 
 
 The sn.oke shall roll white on the weary 
 
 And where do they tarry all ?" 
 
 
 night, 
 
 
 
 And the flame shine dimly through." 
 
 " We stabled them sure, on the Tarras Muir; 
 We stabled them sure," quoth he : 
 
 
 Syne he's ca'd on him Bingan Bed, 
 
 " Before we could cross that quaking moss, 
 
 
 A sturdy kemp was he ; 
 
 They all were lost but me." 
 
 
 From friend or foe, in border feid, 
 
 
 
 Who never a foot would flee. 
 
 He clenched his fist, and he knocked on the 
 And he heard a stifled groan ; [chest, 
 
 
 Bed Bingan sped, and the spearmen led, 
 
 And at the third knock, each rusty lock 
 
 
 TJp Goranberry Slack ; 
 
 Did open one by one. 
 
 
 Aye, many a wight, unmatched in fight, 
 
 
 
 Who never more came back. 
 
 He turned away his eyes, as the lid did rise. 
 And he listened silentlie; 
 
 
 And bloody set the westering sun, 
 
 And he heard breathed slow, in murmurs low, 
 
 
 And bloody rose he up ; 
 
 " Beware of a coming tree!" 
 
 
 But little thought young Branxholm's heir, 
 
 
 
 Where he that night should sup. 
 
 In muttering sound the rest was drowned ; 
 No other word heard he ; 
 
 
 He shot the roe-buck on the lee, 
 
 But slow as it rose, the lid did close. 
 
 
 The dun deer on the law; 
 
 With the rusty padlocks three. 
 
 
 The glamour * sure was in his e'e, 
 
 
 
 When Bingan nigh did draw. 
 
 Now rose with Branxholm's ae brother, 
 
 The Teviot, high and low ; 
 Bauld Walter by name, of meikle time, 
 
 
 
 * Glamour — magical delusion. s 
 
 ■ 7 For none could bend his bow. 
 
 
 
 
490 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 O'er glen and glade, to Soulis there sped 
 
 The fame of his array, 
 And that Teviotdale would soon assail 
 
 His towers and castle gray. 
 
 With clenched fist, he knocked on the chest, 
 
 And again he heard a groan ; 
 And he raised his eyes as the lid did rise, 
 
 But answer heard he none. 
 
 The charm was broke, when the spirit spoke, 
 
 And it murmur'd sullenlie, — 
 " Shut fast the door, and for evermore, 
 
 Commit to me the key. 
 
 " Alas ! that ever thou raised'st thine eyes, 
 
 Thine eyes to look on me ! * 
 Till seven years are o'er, return no more, 
 
 For here thou must not be." 
 
 Think not but Soulis was wae to yield 
 
 His warlock chamber o'er ; 
 He took the keys from the rusty lock, 
 
 That never was ta'en before. 
 
 He threw them o'er his left shoulder, 
 
 "With meikle care and pain ;f 
 And he bade it keep them fathoms deep, 
 
 Till he returned again. 
 
 * The idea of Lord Soulis' familiar seems to 
 be derived from the curious story of the spirit 
 Orthone and the Lord of Corasse, in Froissart. 
 Scott. 
 
 f The circumstance of Lord Soulis having 
 thrown the key over his left shoulder, and bid 
 the fiend keep it till his return, is noted in the 
 introduction, as a part of his traditionary his- 
 tory. In the course of this autumn (1806,) the 
 Earl of Dalkeith being encamped near the Her- 
 mitage Castle for the amusement of shooting, 
 directed some workmen to clear away the rub- 
 bish from the door of the dungeon, in order to 
 ascertain its ancient dimensions and architec- 
 ture. To the great astonishment of the labourers, 
 and of the country people who were watching 
 their proceedings, a rusty iron key, of considera- 
 ble size, was found among the ruins, a little way 
 from the dungeon door. The well-known tradi- 
 tion instantly passed from one to another; and 
 it was generally agreed, that the malevolent dae- 
 mon, who had so long retained possession of the 
 key of the castle, now found himself obliged to 
 resign it to the heir-appaxent of the domain. In; 
 
 And still, when seven years are o'er, 
 
 Is heard the jarring sound ; 
 "When slowly opes the charmed door 
 
 Of the chamber under ground. 
 
 And some within the chamber door 
 
 Have cast a curious eye ; 
 But none dare tell, for the spirits in hell, 
 
 The fearful sights they spy. 
 
 "When Soulis thought on his merry men now, 
 
 A woeful wight was he ; 
 Says,—" Vengeance is mine, and I will not 
 repine ! 
 
 But Branxholm's heir shall die." 
 
 Says— "What would you do, young Branx- 
 holm, 
 
 Gin ye had me, as I have thee I" 
 " I would take you to the good greenwood, 
 
 And gar your ain hand wale $ the tree." 
 
 " Now shall thine ain hand wale the tree, 
 For all thy mirth and meikle pride ; 
 
 And May shall chuse, if my love she refuse, 
 A scrog bush thee beside." 
 
 They carried him to the good greenwood, 
 Where the green pines grew in a row; 
 
 And they heard theory, from the branches high, 
 Of the hungry carrion crow. 
 
 the course of their researches, a large iron ladle, 
 somewhat resembling that used by plumbers, 
 was also discovered ; and both the reliques are 
 now in Lord Dalkeith's possession. 
 
 In the summer of 1805, another discovery was 
 made in the haunted ruins of Hermitage. In a 
 recess of the wall of the castle, intended appa- 
 rently for receiving the end of a beam or joist, a 
 boy, seeking for birds' nests, found a very curious 
 antique silver ring, embossed with hearts, the 
 well-known cognisance of the Douglas family, 
 placed interchangeably with quatre-foils all 
 round the circle. The workmanship has an un- 
 commonly rude and ancient appearance, and 
 warrants our believing that it may have belong- 
 ed to one of the earls of Angus, who carried the 
 heart and quatre-foils in their arms. They part- 
 ed with the castle and lordship of Liddesdale, in 
 exchange for that of Bothwell, in the beginning 
 of the 16th century. — Scott. 
 
 $ Wale — choose. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 FAIRY MYTHOLOGY. 4Q| 
 
 
 They carried him on from tree to tree, A 
 
 . That wizard accurst, the bands he burst ; 
 
 
 
 The spiry boughs below; 
 
 They mouldered at his magic spell ; 
 
 
 
 " Say, shall it be thine, on the tapering pine, 
 
 And neck and heel, in the forged steel, 
 
 
 
 To feed the hooded crow ?" 
 
 They bound him against the charms of hell. 
 
 
 
 " The fir-tops fall by Branxholm wall, 
 
 That wizard accurst, the bands he burst; 
 
 
 
 When the night blast stirs the tree, 
 
 No forged steel his charms could b;de; 
 
 
 
 And it shall not be mine to die on the pine, 
 
 Then up bespake him true Thomas, 
 
 
 
 I loved in infancie." 
 
 " We'll bind him yet, whate'er betide." 
 
 
 
 Young Branxholm turned him, and oft looked 
 
 The black spae-book from his breast he took, 
 
 
 
 back, 
 
 Impressed with many a warlock spell : 
 
 
 
 And aye he passed from tree to tree ; 
 
 And the book it was wrote by Michael Scott, 
 
 
 
 Young Branxholm peeped, and puiriy* spake, 
 
 Who held in awe the fiends of hell. 
 
 
 
 " sic a death is no for mel" 
 
 They buried it deep, where his bones they sleep, 
 
 
 
 And next they passed the aspin gray, 
 
 That mortal man might never it see : 
 
 
 
 Its leaves were rustling mournfullie : 
 
 But Thomas did save it from the grave, 
 
 
 
 " Now, chuse thee, chuse thee, Branxholm 
 
 When he returned from Faerie. 
 
 
 
 Say, wilt thou never chuse the tree ?" [gay ! 
 
 The black spae-book from his breast he took, 
 
 
 
 " More dear to me is the aspin gray, 
 
 And turned the leaves with curious hand ; 
 
 
 
 More dear than any other tree ; 
 
 No ropes, did he find, the wizard could bind, 
 
 
 
 For beneath the shade, that its branches made, 
 
 But threefold ropes of sifted sand. 
 
 
 
 Have past the vows of my love and me." 
 
 They sifted the sand from the Nine-stane burn, 
 
 
 
 Young Branxholm peeped, and puiriy spake, 
 
 And shaped the ropes so curiouslie ; 
 
 
 
 Until he did his ain men see, 
 
 But the ropes would neither twist nor twine, 
 
 
 
 "With witches' hazel in each steel cap, 
 
 For Thomas true and his gramarye. 
 
 
 
 In scorn of Soulis' gramarye ; 
 
 
 
 
 Then shoulder height for glee he lap, 
 
 The black spae-book from his breast he took, 
 
 
 
 " Methinks I spye a coming treel" 
 
 And again he turned it with his hand ; 
 And he bade each lad of Teviot add 
 
 
 
 " Aye, many may come, but few return," 
 
 The barley chaff to the sifted sand. 
 
 
 
 Quo' Soulis, the lord of gramarye ; 
 
 
 
 
 "No warrior's hand in fair Scotland 
 
 The barley chaff to the sifted sand 
 
 
 
 Shall ever dint a wound on me !" 
 
 They aaded still by handfulls nine ; 
 But Redcap sly unseen was by, 
 
 
 
 " Now, by my sooth," quo' bauld Walter, 
 
 And the ropes would neither twist nor twine, 
 
 
 
 " If that be true we soon shall see." 
 
 
 
 
 His bent bow he drew, and the arrow was true, 
 
 And still beside the Nine-stane burn, 
 
 
 
 But never a wound or scar had he. 
 
 Ribbed like the sand at mark of sea 
 The ropes, that would not twist nor turn, 
 
 
 
 Then up bespake him true Thomas, 
 
 Shaped of the sifted sand you see. 
 
 
 
 He was the lord of Ersyltoun : 
 
 
 
 
 " The wizard's spell no steel can quell, 
 
 The black spae-book true Thomas he took; 
 
 
 
 Till once your lances bear him down." 
 
 Again its magic leaves he spread ; 
 And he found that to quell the powerful spell, 
 
 
 
 They bore him down with lances bright, 
 
 The wizard must be boiled in lead. 
 
 
 
 But never a wound or scar had he; 
 
 
 
 
 With hempen bands they bound him tight, 
 
 On a circle of stones they placed the pot, 
 
 
 
 Both hands and feet on the Nine-stane lee. 
 
 On a circle of stones but barely nine; 
 They heated it red and fiery hot, [shine. 
 6 Till the burnished brass did glimmer and 
 
 
 
 * Puiriy — softly. ^ 
 
 
 
 
 
492 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 They rolled him up in a sheet of lead, 
 A sheet of lead for a funeral pall ; 
 
 They plunged him in the cauldron red, 
 And melted him, lead, and bones, and all. 
 
 ^ At the Skelf-hill, the cauldron still 
 The men of Liddesdale can show; 
 And on the spot, where they boiled the pot, 
 The spreaU and the deer-hair$ ne'er shall grow 
 
 * Thetradition, regarding the death of Lord 
 Soulis, however singular, is not without a paral- 
 lel in the real history of Scotland. The same 
 extraordinary mode of cookery was actually prac- 
 tised (horresco rejcrens) upon the body of a sheriff 
 of the Mearns. This person, whose name was 
 Melville of Glenbervie, bore his faculties so 
 harshly, that he became detested by the barons 
 of the country. Reiterated complaints of his 
 conduct having been made to James I. (or, as 
 others say, to the duke of Albany,) the monarch 
 answered, in a moment of unguarded impa- 
 tience, " Sorrow gin the sheriff were sodden, 
 and supped in broo '." The complainers retired, 
 perfectly satisfied. Shortly after, the lairds of 
 Arbuthnot, Mather, Laureston, and Pittaraw, 
 decoyed Melville to the top of the hill of Gar- 
 vock, above Lawrencekirk, under pretence of a 
 grand hunting party. Upon this place (still 
 called the Sheriff's Pot,) the barons had pre- 
 pared a fire and a boiling cauldron, into which 
 they plunged the unlucky sheriff. After he was 
 sodden (as the king termed it,) for a sufficient 
 time, the savages, that they might literally ob- 
 serve the royal mandate, concluded the scene of 
 abomination by actually partaking of the hell- 
 broth. 
 
 The three lairds were outlawed for this offence ; 
 and Barclay, one of their number, to screen 
 himself from justice, erected the kaim (i. e. 
 the camp, or fortress) of Mathers, which stands, 
 upon a rocky and almost inaccessible penin- 
 sula, overhanging the German ocean. The laird 
 of Arbuthnot is said to have eluded the royal 
 vengeance, by claiming the benefit of the law of 
 clan Macduff. A pardon, or perhaps a deed of 
 replegiation, founded upon that law, is said to 
 be still extant among the records of the viscount 
 of Arbuthnot. 
 
 Pellow narrates a similar instance of atrocity, 
 perpetrated after the death of Muley Ismael, 
 emperor of Morocco, in 1727, when the inhabi- 
 tants of Old Fez, throwing of all allegiance to his 
 successor, slew " Alchyde Boel le Bosea, their 
 old governor, boiling his flesh, and many, through 
 spite, eating thereof, and throwing what they 
 could not eat of it to the dogs." — See Pellow's 
 Travels in South Barbary. And we may add, 
 
 [Modern Ballad.— J. Letden.— " The tradi- 
 tion," says Sir Walter, " on which the following 
 ballad is founded derives considerable illustra- 
 tion from the argument of the preceding. It is 
 necessary to add, that the most redoubted adver- 
 sary of Lord Soulis was the chief of Keeldar, a 
 Northumbrian district, adjacent to Cumberland, 
 who perished in a sudden encounter on the 
 banks of the Hermitage. Being arrayed in 
 armour of proof, he sustained no hurt in the 
 combat; but stumbling in retreating across the 
 river, the hostile party held him down below 
 water with their lances till he died; and the 
 eddy, in which he perished, is still called the 
 Cout of Keeldar's Pool. His grave, of gigantic 
 size, is pointed out on the banks of the Hermi- 
 tage, at the western corner of a wall, surround- 
 ing the burial-ground of a ruined chapel. As an 
 enemy of Lord Soulis, his memory is revered ; 
 and the popular epithet of Cout, i. e. Colt, is ex- 
 pressive of his strength, stature, and activity. 
 Tradition likewise relates, that the young chief 
 of Mangerton, to whose protection Lord Soulis 
 had, in some eminent jeopardy, been indebted 
 for his life, was decoyed by that faithless tyrant 
 
 to such tales, the oriental tyranny of Zenghis 
 Khan, who immersed seventy Tartar Khans in 
 as many boiling cauldrons. 
 
 The punishment of boiling seems to have been 
 in use among the English at a very late period, 
 as appears from the following passage in Stowe's 
 Chronicle:—" The 17th March (1524), Margaret 
 Davy, a maid, was boiled at Smithfield for poison- 
 ing of three households that she had dwelled in." 
 But unquestionably the usual practice of Smith" 
 field cookery, about that period, was by a diffe- 
 rent application of fire. — Scott. 
 I f Spreat — the spreat is a species of water-rush. 
 Scott. 
 % Deer-hair— the deer-hair is a coarse species 
 1 of pointed grass, which, in May, bears a very 
 ^ minute, but beautiful yellow flower.— Scott. 
 
FAIRY MYTHOLOGY. 
 
 493 
 
 into his castle of Hermitage, and insidiously 
 murdered at a feast. 
 
 " The Keeldar Stone, by which the Northum- 
 brian chief passed in his incursion, is still pointed 
 out, as a boundary mark, on the confines of Jed 
 forest, and Northumberland. It is a rough in- 
 sulated mass, of considerable dimensions, and it 
 is held unlucky to ride thrice mithershins* around 
 it. Keeldar Castle is now a hunting seat, be- 
 longing to the duke of Northumberland. 
 
 " The Brown Man of the Muirs is a Fairy of 
 the most malignant order, the genuine duergar. 
 "Walsingham mentions a story of an unfortunate 
 youth, whose brains were extracted from his 
 skull, during his sleep, by this malicious being. 
 Owing to this operation, he remained insane 
 many years, till the Virgin Mary courteously re- 
 stored his brains to their station."] 
 
 The eiry blood-hound howled by night, 
 
 The streamers! flaunted red, 
 Till broken streaks of flaky light 
 
 O'er Keeldar's mountains spread. 
 
 The lady sigh'd as Keeldar rose : 
 
 " Come tell me, dear love mine, 
 Go you to hunt where Keeldar flows, 
 
 Or on the banks of Tyne ?" 
 
 " The heath-bell blows where Keeldar flows, 
 
 By Tyne the primrose pale ; 
 But now we ride on the Scottish side, 
 
 To hunt in Liddesdale." 
 
 " Gin you will ride on the Scottish side, 
 Sore must thy Margaret mourn ; 
 
 For Soulis abhorred is Lyddall's lord, 
 And I fear you'll ne'er return. 
 
 " The axe he bears, it hacks and tears; 
 
 'Tis formed of an earth-fast flint; \ 
 No armour of knight, though ever so wight, 
 
 Can bear its deadly dint. 
 
 Widdershins. — German, tviddersins. A di- 
 rection contrary to the course of the sun; from 
 left, namely, to right. — Scott. 
 
 f Streamers — northern lights. 
 
 $ An earth-fast stone, or an insulated stone, 
 inclosed in a bed of earth, is supposed to possess 
 peculiar properties. It is frequently applied to 
 sprains and bruises, and used to dissipate swell- 
 ings; but its blow is reckoned uncommonly 
 severe. — Scott. 
 
 " No danger he fears, for a charm'd sword lie 
 wears ; 
 
 Of adderstone the hilt; § 
 No Tynedale knight had ever such might, 
 
 But his heart-blood was spilt." 
 
 " In my plume Is seen the holly green, 
 With the leaves of the rowan tree ; || 
 
 And my casque of sand, by a mermaid's hand, 
 "Was formed beneath the sea. 
 
 " Then, Margaret dear, have thou no fear 
 
 That bodes no ill to me, 
 Though never a knight, by mortal might, 
 
 Could match his gramarye." — 
 
 Then forward bound both horse and hound, 
 
 And rattle o'er the vale ; 
 As the wintry breeze, through leafless trees, 
 
 Drives on the pattering hail. 
 
 Behind their course the English fells 
 
 In deepening blue retire ; 
 Till soon before them boldly swells 
 
 The muir of dun Reds wire. 
 
 And when they reached the Redswire high, 
 
 Soft beam'd the rising sun; 
 But formless shadows seemed to fly 
 
 Along the muir-land dun. 
 
 And when he reached the Redswire high, 
 
 His bugle Keeldar blew ; 
 And round did float, with clamorous note 
 
 And scream, the hoarse curlew. 
 
 The next blast that young Keeldar blew, 
 
 The wind grew deadly still ; 
 But the sleek fern, with fingery leaves, 
 
 Waved wildly o'er the hill. 
 
 § The adderstone, among the Scottish pea- 
 santry, is held in almost as high veneration, as, 
 among the Gauls, the ovum anguinum, described 
 by Pliny.— Natural History, 1. xxix. c. 3. The 
 name is applied to celts, and other round perfo- 
 rated stones. The vulgar suppose them to be 
 perforated by the stings of adders. — Scott. 
 
 || The rowan tree, or mountain ash, is still 
 used by the peasantry, to avert the effects of 
 charms and witchcraft. An inferior degree of 
 the same influence is supposed to reside in many 
 evergreens ; as the holly and the bay. With the 
 ^leaves of the bay, the English and Welch pea< 
 

 
 
 
 494 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 The third blast that young Keeldar blew, {fit And still, when blood-drops, clotted thin , 
 
 
 
 Still stood the limber fern , 
 
 Hang the grey moss upon, 
 
 
 
 And a "Wee Man, of swarthy hue, 
 
 The spirit murmurs from within, 
 
 
 
 Up started by a cairn. 
 
 And shakes the rocking stone. \ 
 
 
 
 His russet weeds were brown as heath, 
 
 Around, around, young Keeldar wound, 
 
 
 
 That clothes the upland fell ; 
 
 And called, in scornful tone, 
 
 
 
 And the hair of his head was frizzly red, 
 
 With him to pass the barrier ground, 
 
 
 
 As the purple heather bell. 
 
 The Spirit of the Stone. 
 
 
 
 An urchin,* clad in prickles red, 
 
 The rude crag rocked ; " I come for death, 
 
 
 
 Clung cowering to his arm ; 
 
 I come to work thy woe !" 
 
 
 
 The hounds they howl'd, and backward fled, 
 
 And 'twas the Brown Man of the Heath, 
 
 
 
 As struck by Fairy charm. 
 
 That murmured from below. 
 
 
 
 " "Why rises high the stag-hound's cry, 
 
 But onward, onward, Keeldar past, 
 
 
 
 Where stag-hound ne'er should be ? 
 
 Swift as the winter wind, 
 
 
 
 Why wakes that horn the silent morn, 
 
 When, hovering on the driving blast, 
 
 
 
 Without the leave of me ?" 
 
 The snow-flakes fall behind. 
 
 
 
 " Brown dwarf, that o'er the muirland strays, 
 
 They passed the muir of berries blae, 
 
 
 
 Thy name to Keeldar tell!"— 
 
 The stone cross on the lee ; 
 
 
 
 " The Brown Man of the Muirs, who stays 
 
 They reached the green, the bonnie brae, 
 
 
 
 Beneath the heather bell. 
 
 Beneath the birchen tree. 
 
 
 
 " 'Tis sweet, beneath the heather-bell. 
 
 This is the bonnie brae, the green, 
 
 
 
 To live in autumn brown ; 
 
 Yet sacred to the brave, 
 
 
 
 And sweet to hear the lav'rocks swell 
 
 Where still of ancient size, is seen 
 
 
 
 Far far from tower and town. 
 " But woe betide the shrilling horn, 
 
 Gigantic Keeldar's grave. 
 
 
 
 
 The chace's surly cheer ! 
 
 f The rocking stone, commonly reckoned a 
 
 
 
 And ever that hunter is forlorn, 
 
 Druidical monument, has always been held in su- 
 
 
 
 Whom first at morn I hear." 
 
 perstitious veneration by the people. The popular 
 opinion, which supposes them to be inhabited by 
 
 
 
 Says, " Weal nor woe, nor friend nor foe, 
 
 a spirit, coincides with that of the ancient Ice- 
 
 
 
 In thee we hope nor dread." 
 
 landers, who worshipped the daemons, which 
 
 
 
 But, ere the bugles green could blow, 
 
 they believed to inhabit great stones. It is re- 
 
 
 
 The Wee Brown Man had fled. 
 
 lated in the Kristni Saga, chap. 2, that the first 
 Icelandic bishop, by chaunting a hymn over one 
 
 
 
 And onward, onward, hound and horse, 
 
 of these sacred stones, immediately after his 
 
 
 
 Young Keeldar's band have gone ; 
 
 arrival in the island, split it, expelled the spirit, 
 
 
 
 And soon they wheel, in rapid course, 
 
 and converted its worshippers to Christianity. 
 
 
 
 Around the Keeldar Stone. 
 
 The herb vervain, revered by the Druids, was 
 also reckoned a powerful charm by the common 
 
 
 
 Green vervain round its base did creep, 
 
 people; and the author recollects a popular 
 
 
 
 A powerful seed that bore ; 
 
 rhyme, supposed to be addressed to a young 
 
 
 
 And oft, of yore, its channels deep 
 
 woman by the devil, who attempted to seduce 
 
 
 
 Were stained with human gore. 
 
 her in the shape of a handsome young man : 
 
 " Gin ye wish to be leman mine, 
 
 Lay off the St. John's wort, and the vervine." 
 
 
 sants were lately accustomed to adorn their 
 
 
 doors at midsummer. — Vide Brand's "Vulgar 
 
 
 
 
 Antiquities. — Scott. 
 
 By his repugnance to these sacred plants, his 
 
 
 
 * Urchin— hedge-hog. ^ 
 
 ^mistress discovered the cloven foot.— Scott. 
 
 
 
 
FAIRY MYTHOLOGY. 
 
 495 
 
 The lonely shepherd loves to mark 
 
 The daisy springing fair, 
 Where weeps the birch of silver bark, 
 
 With long dishevelled hair. 
 
 The grave is green, and round is spread 
 
 The curling lady-fern; 
 That fatal day the mould was red, 
 
 No moss was on the cairn. 
 
 And next they passed the chapel there ; 
 
 The holy ground was by, 
 Where many a stone is sculptured fair. 
 
 To mark where warriors lie. 
 
 And here, beside the mountain flood, 
 
 A massy castle frown'd, 
 Since first the Pictish race in blood* 
 
 The haunted pile did found. 
 
 The restless stream its rocky base 
 
 Assails with ceaseless din; 
 And many a troubled spirit strays 
 
 The dungeons dark within. 
 
 Soon from the lofty tower there hied 
 
 A knight across the vale ; 
 " I greet your master well," he cried, 
 
 " From Soulis of Liddesdale. 
 
 " He heard your bugle's echoing call, 
 In his green garden bower; 
 
 And bids you to his festive hall, 
 Within his ancient tower." 
 
 Young Keeldar called his hunter train ; 
 
 " For doubtful cheer prepare ! 
 And, as you open force disdain, 
 
 Of secret guile beware. 
 
 * Castles remarkable for sue, strength, and 
 antiquity, are, by the common people, common- 
 ly attributed to the Picts, or Pechs, who are not 
 supposed to have trusted solely to their skill in 
 masonry, in constructing these edifices, but are 
 believed to have bathed the foundation-stone 
 with human blood, in order to propitiate the 
 spirit of the soil. Similar to this is the Gaelic 
 tradition, according to which St. Columba is 
 supposed to have been forced to bury St. Oran 
 alive, beneath the foundation of his monastery, 
 in crder to propitiate the spirits of the soil, who 
 demolished by night what was built during the 
 day.— Scott. 
 
 " 'Twas here for Mangerton's brave lord 
 
 A bloody feast was set, 
 Who, weetless, at the festal board, 
 
 The bull's broad frontlet met. 
 
 " Then ever, at uncourteous feast, 
 
 Keep every man his brand; 
 And, as you 'mid his friends are placed, 
 
 Range on the better hand. 
 
 " And, if the bull's ill omen'd headf 
 
 Appear to grace the feast, 
 Your whingers, with unerring speed, 
 
 Plunge in each neighbour's breast."— 
 
 In Hermitage they sat at dine, 
 
 In pomp and proud array 
 And oft they filled the blood-red wine, 
 
 While merry minstrels play. 
 
 And many a hunting song they sung, 
 
 And song of game and glee; 
 Then tuned to plaintive strains their tongue, 
 
 " Of Scotland's luve and lee."$ 
 
 t To present a bull's head before a person at a 
 feast, was, in the ancient turbulent times of 
 Scotland, a common signal for his assassination. 
 Thus, Lindsay of Pitscottie relates in his His- 
 tory, p. 17, that " efter the dinner was endit, 
 once alle the delicate cours3S taken away, the 
 chancellor (Sir William Crichton) presentit the 
 bullis head befoir the Earle of Douglas, in signe 
 and toaken of condemnation to the death." 
 
 Scott. 
 
 $ The most ancient Scottish song known is 
 that which is here alluded to, and is thus given 
 by Wintoun, in his Chronykil, vol. I. p. 401 : — 
 
 Quhen Alysandyr our kyng wes dede, 
 
 That Scotland led in luve and le, 
 Away wes sons of ale and brede, 
 
 Ot wyne and wax, ol gamyn and gle : 
 
 Oure gold wes changyd into lede, 
 
 Cryst, borne into virgynyte, 
 Succour Scotland and remede, 
 
 That stad is in perplexyte. 
 
 That alluded to in the following verse, is a 
 wild fanciful popular tale of enchantment, 
 termed " The Black Bull of Noroway." The 
 author is inclined to believe it the same story 
 with the romance of the " Three Futtit Dog of 
 Noroway," the title of which is mentioned in the 
 Complaynt of Scotland.— Scott. 
 

 
 
 
 496 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 To wilder measures next they turn 4fc Ah! ne'er before in Border feud 
 
 
 
 " The Black Black Bull of Noroway !" 
 
 Was seen so dire a fray! 
 
 
 
 Sudden the tapers cease to burn, 
 
 Through glittering lances Keeldar hewed 
 
 
 
 The minstrels cease to play. 
 
 A red corse-paven way. 
 
 
 
 Each hunter bold, of Keeldar's train, 
 
 His helmet, formed of mermaid sand, 
 
 
 
 Sat an enchanted man ; 
 
 No lethal brand could dint ; 
 
 
 
 For cold as ice, through every vein, 
 
 No other arms could e'er withstand 
 
 
 
 The freezing life-blood ran. 
 
 The axe of earth-fast flint. 
 
 
 
 Each rigid hand the whinger wrung, 
 
 In Keeldar's plume the holly green, 
 
 
 
 Each gaied with glaring eye ; 
 
 And rowan leaves, nod on, 
 
 
 
 But Keeldar from the table sprung, 
 
 And vain Lord Soulis's sword was seen, 
 
 
 
 Unharmed by gramarye. 
 
 Though the hilt was adderstone. 
 
 
 
 He burst the doors ; the roofs resound ; 
 
 Then up the Wee Brown Man he rose, 
 
 
 
 With yells the castle rung ; 
 
 By Soulis of Liddesdale ; 
 
 
 
 Before him, with a sudden bound, 
 
 " In vain," he said, " a thousand blows 
 
 
 
 His favourite blood-hound sprung. 
 
 Assail the charmed mail. 
 
 
 
 Ere he could pass, the door was barr'd; 
 And, grating harsh from under, 
 
 "In vain by land your arrows glide, 
 
 In vain your falchions gleam — 
 No spell can stay the living tide.f 
 
 
 
 With creaking, jarring noise, was heard 
 
 Or charm the rushing stream." 
 
 
 
 A sound like distant thunder. 
 
 And now, young Keeldar reached the stream. 
 
 
 
 The iron clash, the grinding sound, 
 
 Above the foamy lin ; 
 
 
 
 Announce the dire sword-mill;* 
 
 The Border lances round him gleam, 
 
 
 
 The piteous howlings of the hound 
 
 And force the warrior in. 
 
 
 
 The dreadful dungeon fill. 
 
 The holly floated to the side, 
 
 
 
 With breath drawn in, the murderous crew 
 
 And the leaf of the rowan pale . 
 
 
 
 Stood listening to the yell ; 
 
 Alas ! no spell could charm the tide, 
 
 
 
 And greater still their wonder grew, 
 
 Nor the lance of Liddesdale. 
 
 
 
 As on their ear it fell. 
 
 Swift was the Cout o' Keeldar's course, 
 
 
 
 They listen 'd for a human shriek 
 
 Amid the jarring sound ; 
 They only heard in echoes weak, 
 
 Along the lily lee ; 
 But home came never hound nor horse, 
 And never home came he. 
 
 
 
 The murmurs of the hound. 
 
 Where weeps the birch with branches green, 
 Without the holy ground, 
 
 
 
 The death-bell rung, and wide were flung 
 
 Between two old gray stones is seen 
 
 
 
 The castle gates amain ; 
 
 The warrior'B ridgy mound. 
 
 
 
 While hurry out the armed rout, 
 
 
 
 
 And marshal on the plain. 
 
 And the hunters bold, of Keeldar's train, 
 
 Within yon castle's wall, 
 In deadly sleep must aye remain, 
 
 
 
 
 * The author is unable to produce any au- 
 
 Till the ruined towers down fall. 
 
 
 
 thority that the execrable machine, the sword- 
 
 
 
 
 
 mill, so well known on the continent, was ever 
 
 f That no species of magic had any effect over 
 
 
 
 employed in Scotland ; but he believes the ves- 
 
 a running stream, was a common opinion 
 
 
 
 tiges of something very similar have been dis- 
 
 among the vulgar, and is alluded to in Burns'g 
 
 
 
 covered in the ruins of old castles. — Scoit. { 
 
 & admirable tale of Tarn o' Shanter.— Scott. 
 
 
 
FAIRY MYTHOLOGY. 4.QIJ 
 
 Each in his hunter's garb array 'd, I 
 
 Each holds his bugle horn; 
 Their keen hounds at their feet are laid, 
 
 That ne'er shall wake the morn. 
 
 \ " But there was ane shameful heronshew. 
 Was sitting by the plashy shore, 
 With meagre eyne watching powheads, 
 And other fishes, less or more ; 
 
 [Modern Ballad.-— James Hoqo.] 
 
 " But when she saw that grizly sight 
 Stand on the billow of the wind ; 
 
 Grace, as she flapper 'd and she flew, 
 And left a streamoury track behind ! 
 
 "And aye she rair'd as she were wud. 
 
 For utter terror and dismay ; 
 And left a skelloch on the clud, — 
 
 I took it for the milky way. 
 
 " dearest Marjory, stay at home, 
 For dark 's the gate you have to go ; 
 
 And there 's a maike adown the glen, 
 Hath frighten'd me and many moe. 
 
 " Had I not seen that hideous sight, 
 What I had done I could not say; 
 
 But at that heron's horrid fright, 
 I'll laugh until my dying day. 
 
 " His legs are like two pillars tall, 
 And still and stalwart is his stride ; 
 
 His face is rounder nor the moon, 
 
 And, och, his mouth is awesome wide ! 
 
 " Then, dearest Marjory, stay at home, 
 And rather court a blink with me ; 
 
 For, gin you see that awesome sight, 
 Yourself again you will never be." 
 
 " I saw him stand, the other night, 
 Yclothed in his grizly shroud ; 
 
 "With one foot on a shadow placed, 
 The other on a misty cloud. 
 
 " But I have made a tryst this night, 
 I may not break, if take my life ; 
 
 So I will run my risk and go : 
 
 With maiden, spirits have no strife. 
 
 " As far asunder were his limbs, 
 
 On the first story of the air, 
 A ship could have sail'd through between, 
 
 With all her colours flying fair. 
 
 ** Have you not heard, Sir Dominie, 
 That face of virgin bears a charm, 
 
 And neither ghaist, nor man, nor beast, 
 Have any power to do her harm ?" 
 
 "He nodded his head against the heaven, 
 
 As if in reverend mockerye ; 
 Then fauldit his arms upon his breast, 
 
 And aye he shook his beard at me. 
 
 " Yes, there is one, sweet Marjorye, 
 
 Will stand thy friend in darksome even j 
 
 For virgin beauty is on earth 
 
 The brightest type we have of heaven. 
 
 " And he pointed to my Marjory's cot, 
 And by his motion seem'd to say, 
 
 'In yon sweet home go seek thy lot, 
 For there thine earthly lot I lay.' 
 
 " The colly cowers upon the swaird, 
 To kiss her foot with kindly eye ; 
 
 The maskis will not move his tongue, 
 But wag his tail, if she pass by , 
 
 " My very heart it quaked for dread, 
 And turn'd as cold as beryl stone, 
 
 And the moudies cheipit below the swaird, 
 For fear then- little souls were gone. 
 
 *' The adder hath not power to stang ; 
 
 The slow-worm's harmless as an eel ; 
 The burly toad, the ask, and snake, 
 
 Cannot so much as wound her heel. 
 
 " The eushat and the corbie craw 
 Fled to the highest mountain height ; 
 
 And the little birdies tried the same, 
 
 But fell down on the earth with fright. ^ 
 
 " The angels love to see her good, 
 
 And watch her ways in bower and hall ; 
 
 The devils pay her some respect, 
 S And God loves her,— that is best of all." 
 B 2i 
 
493 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 " Then, sooth, I'll take my chance, and wend 
 To keep my tryst, whate'er may be ; 
 
 Why should a virtuous maiden dread 
 The tale of a crazy Dominie ?" 
 
 " Ochon, ochon, dear Marjorye, 
 
 But of your virtue you are vain 1 
 Yet you are in a wondrous haste, 
 
 In running into toil and pain. 
 
 " For maiden's virtue, at the best, 
 
 (May He that made her kind, forgive her 1) 
 
 Is like the blue-bell x>f the waste, 
 
 Sweet, sweet a while, and gone for ever I 
 
 * It is like what maiden much admires, — 
 
 A bruckle set of china store ; 
 But one false stumble, start, or step, 
 
 And down it falls for evermore ! 
 
 " It is like the florid Eden rose, 
 That perisheth without recalling; 
 
 And aye the lovelier that it grows, 
 It wears the nearer to the falling. 
 
 " It is like the flaunting morning sky, 
 That spreads its blushes far before ; 
 
 But plash there comes a storm of rain, 
 And all its glory then is o'er. 
 
 " Then be not proud, sweet Marjorye, 
 Of that which hath no sure abode : 
 
 Man little knows what lurks within ; 
 The heart is only known to God." 
 
 But Marjory smiled a willsome smile, 
 And drew her frock up to her knee; 
 
 And lightly down the glen she flew, 
 
 Though the tear stood in the Dominie's e'e. 
 
 She had not gone a mile but ane, 
 
 Quhill up there starts a droichel man, 
 
 And he lookit ruefully in her face, 
 
 And says, " Fair maid, where be yougaun ?" 
 
 " I am gaun to meet mine own true love, 
 So, Maister Brownie, say your rede, 
 
 I know you have not power to hurt 
 One single hair of virgin's head." 
 
 The Brownie gave a gousty laugh, 
 
 And said, " What wisdom you do lackl 
 
 For, if you reach your own true love, 
 
 I may have power when you come back I" a 
 
 Then next she met an eldrin dame, 
 A weirdly witch I wot was she ; 
 
 For though she wore a human face, 
 It was a grousome sight to see ; 
 
 " Stay, pretty maid, what is your haste ? 
 
 Come, speak with me before you go ; 
 For I have news to tell to you, 
 
 Will make your very heart to glow : 
 
 " You claim that virgins have a charm, 
 That holds the universe at bay ; 
 
 Alas ! poor fool, to snare and harm, 
 There is none so liable as they. 
 
 " It is love that lifts up woman's soul, 
 And gives her eyes a heavenly sway ; 
 
 Then, would you be a blessed thing, 
 Indulge in love without delay. 
 
 " You go to meet your own true love, 
 I know it well as well can be ; 
 
 But, or you pass a bowshot on, 
 
 You will meet ane thrice as good as he. 
 
 " And he will press your lily hand, 
 And he will kiss your cheek and chin, 
 
 And you must go to bower with him, 
 For he is the youth your love must win. 
 
 " And you must do what he desires, 
 And great good fortune you shall find ; 
 
 But when you reach your own true love, 
 Keep close your secret in your mind." 
 
 Away went Marjory, and away 
 
 With lighter step and blither smile; 
 
 That night to meet her own true love, 
 She would have gane a thousand mile. 
 
 She had not pass'd a bowshot on 
 Until a youth, in manly trim, 
 
 Came up and press'd the comely May 
 To turn into a bower with him. 
 
 He promised her a gown of silk, 
 
 A mantle of the cramosye, 
 And chain of gold about her neck, 
 
 For one hour of her companye. 
 
 He took her lily hand in his, 
 
 And kiss'd it with such fervencye, 
 
 That the poor May began to blush, 
 And durst not lift her modest e'e. 
 

 FAIRY MYTHOLOGY. 499 
 
 Her little heart began to beat, { 
 
 And flutter most disquietlye, 
 She lookit east, she lookit west, 
 
 And all to see what she could see. 
 
 \ Keep aye the eyes on heaven aboon, 
 Both of your body and your mind ; 
 For in the strength of God alone, 
 
 A woman's weakness strength shall find. 
 
 She lookit up to heaven aboon, 
 
 Though scarcely knowing how or why ; 
 She heaved a sigh — the day was won, 
 
 And bright resolve beam'd in her eye. 
 
 And when you go to bower or dell, 
 And know no human eye can see, 
 
 Think of an eye that never sleeps, 
 And angels weeping over thee. 
 
 The first stern that she look'd upon, 
 A tear stood on its brow for shame ; 
 
 It drappit on the floor of heaven, 
 
 And aye its blushes went and came. ' 
 
 For man is but a selfish maike, 
 And little recks of maiden's woe, 
 
 And all his pride is to advise 
 
 The gate she's far ower apt to go. 
 
 Then Marjory, in a moment thought, 
 That blessed angels might her see; 
 
 And often said within her heart, 
 
 " Do God's own planets bl ush for me ? 
 
 Away went bonnie Marjorye, 
 
 With all her blossoms in the blight; 
 She had not gone a bowshot on, 
 
 Before she saw an awsome sight: 
 
 " That they shall never do again- 
 Leal virtue still shall be my guide. — 
 
 Thou stranger youth, pass on thy way, 
 With thee I will not turn aside. 
 
 It was ane maike of monstrous might. 
 The terror of the sons of men; 
 
 That by Sir Dominie was hight, 
 The Giant Spirit of the Glen. 
 
 " The Angel of the Glen is wroth, 
 
 And where shall maiden find remede ? 
 
 See what a hideous canopy 
 
 He is spreading high above our head !" 
 
 His make was like a moonshine cloud 
 That fill'd the glen with human form; 
 
 With his gray locks he brush'd the heaven 
 And shook them far aboon the storm ; 
 
 " Take thou no dread, sweet Marjorye ; 
 
 It is love's own curtain spread on high; 
 A timeous veil for maiden's blush, 
 
 Yon little crumb-cloth of the sky. 
 
 And gurly, gurly was his look, 
 
 From eyne that seem'd two borels blue, 
 And shaggy was his silver beard 
 
 That down the air in streamers flew. 
 
 " All the good angels take delight 
 Sweet woman's happiness to see; 
 
 And where could thine be so complete 
 As in the bower this night with me ?" 
 
 Oh, but that maid was hard bested, 
 And mazed and modderit in dismay 1 
 
 For both the guests of heaven and hell 
 Seem'd her fond passage to belay. 
 
 Poor Marjory durst no answer make, 
 But stood as meek as captive dove ; 
 
 Her trust fix'd on her Maker kind, — 
 Her eyes upon the heaven above. 
 
 When the Great Spirit saw her dread, 
 And that she wist not what to say, 
 
 His face assum'd a milder shade, 
 Like midnight melting into day. 
 
 That wicked wight (for sure no youth, 
 But Demon of the Glen was he) 
 
 Had no more power, but sped away, 
 And left the maiden on her knee. 
 
 " Poor wayward, artless, aimless thing, 
 Where art thou going, canst thou tell t" 
 
 The Spirit said,—" Is it thy will 
 To run with open eyne to hell ? 
 
 Then, all you virgins sweet and young, 
 
 "When the first whisperings of sin 
 Begin to hanker on your minds, 
 
 Or steal into the soul within, ^ 
 
 " I am the guardian of this glen, 
 And 'tis my sovereign joy to see 
 
 The wicked man run on in sin, 
 
 Bank, ruthless, gaunt, and greedily*; 
 

 
 gQQ SCOTTISH 
 
 BALLADS. 
 
 
 
 "But still to guard the virtuous heart * 
 From paths of danger and of woe, 
 
 Shall be my earnest, dearest part : 
 
 Then tell me, dame, where dost thou go ?" 
 
 ^ Then he took out a deadly blade, 
 
 And drew it from its bloody sheath, 
 Then laid his hand upon her eyne, 
 
 To blind them from the stroke of death- 
 
 
 
 "I go to meet mine ain dear love, 
 True happiness with him to seek, — 
 
 The comeliest and kindest youth 
 That ever kiss'd a maiden's cheek." 
 
 Then, straight to pierce her broken heart, 
 He raised his ruthless hand on high ; 
 
 But Marjory utter'd shriek so loud, 
 It made the monster start and fly. 
 
 
 
 The Spirit shook his silver hair, 
 
 That stream 'd like sunbeam through the rain; 
 But there was pity in his eyne, 
 
 Though mingled with a mild disdain. 
 
 " Now, maiden," said the mighty Shade, 
 " Thou see'st what dangers waited thee ; 
 
 Thou see'st what snares for thee were laid, 
 All underneath the greenwood tree. 
 
 
 
 He whipp'd the maid up in his arms 
 As I would lift a trivial toy — 
 
 Quod he, " The upshot thou shalt see 
 Of this most pure and virtuous joy !" 
 
 " Yet straight on ruin wouldst thou run J 
 What think'st thou of thy lover meek,— 
 
 The comeliest and the kindest youth 
 That ever kiss'd a maiden's cheek ?" 
 
 
 
 He took two strides, he took but two, 
 Although ane mile it seem'd to be, 
 
 And shovv'd the maid her own true love, 
 ■With maiden weeping at his knee ; 
 
 Then sore, sore did poor Marjory weep 
 
 And cried, " This world's a world of woe, 
 
 A place of sin, of snare, and gin; 
 
 Alas ! what shall poor woman do ?" 
 
 
 
 And, oh! that maiden's heart was sore, 
 For still with tears she wet his feat ; 
 
 But then he mock'd and jeer'd the more, 
 "With threats, and language most unmeet. 
 
 " Let woman trust in Heaven high, 
 And be all ventures rash abjured; 
 
 And never trust herself with man, 
 Till of his virtue well assured." 
 
 
 
 She cried, " Oh, dear and cruel youth, 
 Think of the love you vow'd to me, 
 
 And all the joys that we have proved, 
 Beneath the bield of birken tree ! 
 
 The Spirit turn'd him round about, 
 And up the glen he strode amain, 
 
 Quhill his white hair along the heaven 
 Stream'd like the comet's fiery train. 
 
 
 
 " Since never maid hath loved like me, 
 leave me not to the world's sharp scorn ; 
 
 By your dear hand I'll rather die 
 Than live forsaken and forlorn 1" 
 
 High as the eagle's morning flight, 
 And swift as is his cloudy way, 
 
 He bore that maiden through the night, 
 Enswathed in wonder and dismay; 
 
 
 
 " As thou hast said so shalt thou dree,' 
 Said this most cursed and cruel hind ; 
 
 " For I must meet ane May this night, 
 "Whom I love best of womankind ; 
 
 And he flang her in the Dominie's bed, — 
 Ane good soft bed as bed could be ! 
 
 And when the Dominie came home, 
 Ane richt astounded man was he. 
 
 
 
 " So I'll let forth thy wicked blood, 
 And neither daunt, nor rue the deed, 
 
 For thou art lost to grace and good, 
 And ruin'd beyond all remede." 
 
 Quod he, " My dear sweet Marjorye, 
 My best beloved and dawted dame, 
 
 You are welcome to my bed and board, 
 And this brave house to be thine hame: 
 
 
 
 She open'd up her snowy breast, 
 
 And aye the tear blinded her e'e , 
 Now take, now take mine harmless life, 
 
 All guiltless but for loving thee i" ^ 
 
 " But not till we in holy church 
 
 Be bound, never to loose again ; 
 
 And then I will love you as my life, 
 
 ■ f And long as life and breath remain." 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 FAIRY MYTHOLOGY. 501 
 
 
 Then the Dominie took her to holy church, sfe " The new-made mother need not fear, 
 
 
 
 And wed her with a gowden ring ; 
 
 To leave ajar the cottage door; 
 
 
 
 And he was that day a joyful man, 
 
 Alas ! we never shall come near, 
 
 
 
 And happier nor a crowned king. 
 
 To change the mortal's infant more. 
 Ealie, &c. 
 
 
 
 And more unsmirchit happiness 
 
 
 
 
 Ne'er to an earthly pair was given ; 
 
 " No more, when as the eddying wind 
 
 
 
 And all the days they spent on earth, 
 
 Shall whirl the autumn leaves in air, 
 
 
 
 They spent in thankfulness to Heaven. 
 
 Shall there be dread, that elfin fiend, 
 Or troop of wandering fays are there. 
 
 
 
 Now, maidens dear, in greenwood shaw, 
 
 Ealie, &c. 
 
 
 
 Ere you make trystes with flattering men, 
 
 
 
 
 Think of the sights poor Marjory saw, 
 
 " In palaces beneath the lake, 
 
 
 
 And the Great Spirit of the Glen. 
 
 Within the rock, or grassy hill, 
 No more the sounds of mirth we make, 
 
 
 
 
 
 But all are silent, sad, and still. 
 Ealie, &c. 
 
 
 
 fi$e Es^t Jrakg. 
 
 " Farewell the ring, where, through the 
 dance, 
 
 
 
 [This very beautiful piece is written by Mr. 
 
 In winding maze, we deftly flew, 
 
 
 
 "William Olives, Langraw, Roxburghshire, 
 
 Whilst flowing hair, and dress, would glance 
 
 
 
 author of "Eight Months in Illinois." It is 
 
 With sparkling gems of moonlit dew. 
 
 
 
 here printed for the first time.] 
 
 Ealie, &c. 
 
 
 
 There was a voice heard on the fell, 
 
 " We were ere mortals had their birth, 
 
 
 
 Crying so sadly, ** All are gone, 
 
 And long have watched their growing day; 
 
 
 
 And I must bid this earth farewell ; 
 
 The light now beams upon the earth, 
 
 
 
 Oh why should I stay here alone ? 
 
 And warns us that we must away. 
 
 
 
 Ealie, ealie, oh farewell ! 
 
 Ealie, &c. 
 
 
 
 " I've sought the brake, I've sought the hill, 
 
 " Oh where are Thor and Wodin now ? 
 
 
 
 The haunted glen, and swelling river ; 
 
 Where Elfin sprite and Duergar gone ? 
 
 
 
 I've sought the fountain, and the rill, 
 
 The great are fallen ; we needs must bow, 
 
 
 
 And all are left, and left for ever. 
 
 I may not stay, not even alone. 
 
 
 
 Ealie, &c. 
 
 Ealie, &c. 
 
 
 
 " Where'er the sunbeam tints the spray, 
 
 " Ah me, the wandering summer broeze 
 
 
 
 That rises o'er the falling waters, 
 
 Shall bear our sighs, where'er it goes, 
 
 
 
 I've, needless, roamed the livelong day, 
 
 Or floating 'mid the leafy trees, 
 
 
 
 In search of some of Faerie's daughters. 
 
 Or stealing odours from the rose. 
 
 
 
 Ealie, &c 
 
 Ealie, &c. 
 
 
 
 " Each heather-bell, each budding flower, 
 
 " These sighs, unknown shall touch the heart. 
 
 
 
 That blooms in wold, or grassy lea, 
 
 And with a secret language speak ; 
 
 
 
 Each bosky shaw, each leafy bower, 
 
 To joy a soothing care impart ; 
 
 
 
 Is tenantless by all, save me. 
 
 Add tears to smiles on beauty's cheek. 
 
 
 
 Ealie, &c. 
 
 Ealie, &c. 
 
 
 
 " No more now, through the moonlit night, 
 
 "Farewell, farewell, for I must go 
 
 
 
 With tinkling bells, and sound of mirth, 
 
 To other realms, to other spheres ; 
 
 
 
 We hie, and scare the peasant wight, 
 
 This mortal earth 1 leave with wo, 
 
 
 
 With strains by far too sweet for earth. 
 
 With grief, with wailing, and with tears.' 
 
 
 
 Ealie, &c. < 
 
 A Ealie, &c. 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 502 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 
 ^ "Whan thair was come to threstae or diehte, 
 
 
 
 
 Or barne or byre to dene, 
 
 
 
 ®fje WwUnu ®i Jfcanntoew. 
 
 He had ane bizzy houre at nicht, 
 Atweene the twall and ane ; 
 
 
 
 [Modern Ballad. — Alexander Lainq. — Here 
 
 And thouch the sna' was never so deip, 
 
 
 
 printed for the first time. — In the notes to 
 
 And never so weet the raine, 
 
 
 
 Collins's " Ode on the Popular Superstitions 
 
 He ran ane errant in a wheip, 
 
 
 
 of the Highlands" it is said that " The Brow- 
 
 The Brownie of Fearnden ! 
 
 
 
 nie formed a class of beings, distinct in habit 
 
 
 
 
 and disposition from the freakish and mis« 
 
 Ae nicht the gudewyfe of the house 
 
 
 
 chievous elves or fairies. In the day time, he 
 
 Fell sicke as sicke coud be, 
 
 
 
 lurked in remote recesses of the old houses which 
 
 And for the skilly mammy-wyfe, 
 
 
 
 he delighted to haunt ; and in the night sedu- 
 
 She wantit them to gae ; 
 
 
 
 lously employed himself in discharging any labo- 
 
 
 
 
 rious task which he thought might be acceptable 
 
 The nicht was darke, and never a sparke 
 
 
 
 to the family, to whose service he had devoted 
 
 Wald venture doun the glen, 
 
 
 
 himself;" — and service similar to that narrated 
 
 For feir that he micht heir or see 
 
 
 
 in this ballad was of very frequent occurrence. 
 
 The Brownie of Fearnden J 
 
 
 
 It is told of a Brownie, that on a certain occa- 
 
 
 
 
 sion he had undertaken to gather the sheep into 
 
 But Brownie was na far awa', 
 
 
 
 the bught by an early hour, and so zealously did 
 
 For weil he heard the stryfe ; 
 
 
 
 he perform his task, that not only was there not 
 
 And ablynis thocht, as weil he saw, 
 
 
 
 one sheep left on the hill, but he had also col- 
 
 They sune wald tyne the wyfe : 
 
 
 
 lected a number of hares, which were found 
 
 
 
 
 fairly penned along with them ; upon being con- 
 
 He affe and mountis the ridying mear, 
 
 
 
 gratulated on his extraordinary success, he ex- 
 
 And throch the winde and raine ; 
 
 
 
 claimed, " confound thae wee grae anes, they 
 
 And sune was at the skilly wyfe's, 
 
 
 
 cost me mair trouble than a' the lave o' them." 
 
 Wha livit owre the den 1 
 
 
 
 So disinterested was Brownie in his attachment, 
 
 
 
 
 that any offer of reward, particularly of food or 
 
 He pullit the sneke, and out he spak', 
 
 
 
 clothing, he invariably reckoned a hint from the 
 
 That she micht bettere heir, 
 
 
 
 family that they wished to dispense with his ser- 
 
 " Thair is a mothere wald gyve byrth, 
 
 
 
 vices, which he immediately transferred to ano- 
 
 But hasna strengthe to beir ; 
 
 
 
 ther. He has likewise been known to have aban- 
 
 
 
 
 doned a beloved haunt, when often disturbed in 
 
 ryse ! ryse ! and hape you weil, 
 
 
 
 his places of daily retirement, or when any ob- 
 
 To keip you fra the raine"— 
 
 
 
 servations were made on hia appearance, which 
 
 " Whaur do you want me ?" quoth the wyfe, 
 
 
 
 was " meagre, shaggy, and wild." It is there- 
 
 " whaur but owre the den !" 
 
 
 
 fore very probable, as we have no later tradition 
 
 
 
 
 respecting the Brownie of the ballad, that the 
 
 Whan baythe waur mountit on the mear, 
 
 
 
 question put to him by the sage femme at the 
 
 And ridyng up the glen ; 
 
 
 
 door of the farm-house, occasioned his departure 
 
 " watt ye laddy," quoth the wyfe, 
 
 
 
 from bis favourite Fearnden for ever.] 
 
 " Gyn we be neir the den > 
 
 
 
 Thair livit ane man on Norinsyde, 
 
 " Are w^ com neir the den?" she said; 
 
 
 
 Whan Jamis helde his aine ; 
 
 " Just wysht ye fule 1" quoth he, 
 
 
 
 He had ane maylen faire and wyde, 
 
 " For waure than ye ha'e in your armis, 
 
 
 
 And servants nyne or tene— 
 
 This nicht ye wynna see !" 
 
 
 
 He had ane servant dwellying neir, 
 
 They sune waur landit at the doore, 
 
 
 
 Worthe all his maydis and men ; 
 
 The wyfe he handit doun— 
 
 
 
 And wha was this gyn ye wald speir, 
 
 " I've lefte the house but ae haufe houre, 
 
 
 
 The Brownie of Fearnden t 9 
 
 ■ ? I am a clever loun I" — 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 FAIRY MYTHOLOGY. 503 
 
 
 
 "What maks your feit sae brayde?" quoth ^ I cross'd my brow, and I cross'd my breast, 
 
 
 
 she, 
 
 But that night my child departed ; 
 
 
 
 " What maks your een sae wan ?" 
 
 They left a weakling in his stead, 
 
 
 
 " I've wandert mony a weary foote, 
 
 And I am broken-hearted. 
 
 
 
 And unko sichtis I've seen J 
 
 Oh ! it cannot be my own sweet boy, 
 
 
 
 " But mynd the wyfe, and mynd the wean, 
 
 For his eyes are dim and hollow, 
 
 
 
 And see that all gae richt ; 
 
 My little boy is gone to God, 
 
 
 
 And I wyll tak' you hame agen, 
 
 And his mother soon will follow. 
 
 
 
 Befoir the mornyng licht. 
 
 The dirge for the dead will be sung for me, 
 
 
 
 " And gyn they speir wha brocht you heir, 
 
 And the mass be chanted meetly; 
 
 
 
 Cause they waur seaunte of men — 
 
 And I will sleep with my little boy, 
 
 
 
 Even tell them that ye rade ahint 
 
 In the moonlieht churchyard sweetly. 
 
 
 
 The Brownie of Fearnden I" 
 
 
 
 
 ®jjje ©aMsafoajp* 
 
 [This piece is by the Rev. Db. Jamieson, 
 
 
 
 [The woman, in whose character these lines 
 
 author of the Scottish Dictionary. It first ap- 
 
 
 
 are written, supposes her child to be stolen by a 
 
 peared in the Border Minstrelsy. We give it a 
 
 
 
 iairy. The ballad here given is translated from 
 
 place here as the Water Kelpie belongs to the 
 
 
 
 the German, by John Anster, Esq.] 
 
 genus Fairy. 
 " The principal design of the author of this 
 
 
 
 Thb summer sun was sinking 
 
 With a mild light calm and mellow, 
 
 It shone on my little boy's bonnie cheeks, 
 And his loose locks of yellow. 
 
 piece," says Sir Walter, " was to give a speci- 
 men of Scottish writing, more nearly approach- 
 ing to the classical compositions of our ancient 
 bards, than that which has been generally fol- 
 lowed for seventy or eighty years past. As the 
 
 
 
 The robin was singing sweetly, 
 And his song was sad and tender ; 
 
 poem is descriptive of the superstitions of the 
 vulgar, in the county of Angus, the scene is laid 
 on the hanks of South Esk, near the castle of 
 
 
 
 And my little boy's eyes, while he heard the 
 
 Inverquharity, about five miles north from 
 
 
 
 song, 
 
 Forfar."] 
 
 
 
 Smiled with a sweet soft splendour. 
 
 
 
 My little boy lay on my bosom, 
 
 Aft, owre the, bent, with heather blent, 
 
 
 
 While his soul the song was quaffing, 
 
 And throw the forest brown, 
 
 
 
 The joy of his soul had tinged his cheek, 
 
 I tread the path to yon green strath, 
 
 
 
 And his heart and his eye were laughing. 
 
 Quhare brae-born Esk rins down. 
 
 
 
 I sat alone in my cottage, 
 
 Its banks alang, quhilk hazels thrang, 
 
 
 
 The midnight needle plying; 
 
 Quhare sweet-sair'd hawthorns blow. 
 
 
 
 I feared for my child, for the rush's light 
 
 I lufe to stray, and view the play 
 
 
 
 In the socket now was dying. 
 
 Of fleckit scules below. 
 
 
 
 There came a hand to my lonely latch, 
 
 Ae summer e'en, upon the green, 
 
 
 
 Like the wind at midnight moaning; 
 
 I laid me down to gaze ; 
 
 
 
 I knelt to pray, but rose again, 
 
 The place right nigh, quhare Canty 
 
 
 
 For I heard my little boy groaning. J 
 
 } His humble tribute pays : 
 
 
 
 
 
 
504 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 And Prosen proud, with rippet loud, 
 
 Cums ravin' frae his glen ; 
 As gin he micht auld Esk affricht, 
 
 And drive him back agen. 
 
 An ancient tour appear't to lour 
 
 Athort the neibourin plain, 
 Quhais chieftain bauld, in times of auld, 
 
 The kintrie call't his ain. 
 
 Its honours cow't, its now forhow't, 
 
 And left the houlat's prey ; 
 Its skuggin* wude, aboon the flude, 
 
 With gloom owrespreads the day. 
 
 A dreary shade the castle spread, 
 
 And mirker grew the lift ; 
 The croonin' kie the byre drew nigh, 
 
 The darger left his thrift. 
 
 The lavrock shill on erd was still, 
 
 The westlin wind fell loun ; 
 The fisher's houp forgat to loup, * 
 
 And aw for rest made boun. f 
 
 I seem't to sloom, quhan throw the gloom 
 
 I 9aw the river shak', 
 And heard a whush alangis it rush, 
 
 Gart aw my members quak' , 
 
 Syne, in a stound, the pool profound 
 
 To cleave in twain appear'd ; 
 And huly throw the frichtsom how 
 
 His form a gaist uprear'd.± 
 
 He rashes bare, and segg9, for hair, 
 Quhare ramper-eels entwin'd ; 
 
 Of filthy gar his e'e-brees war, 
 "With esks and horse-gells lin'd. 
 
 * The fishes, the hope of the angler, no more 
 rose to the fly. — Jamieson. 
 
 f All commonly occurs in our old writers. 
 But am is here used, as corresponding with the 
 general pronunciation in Scotland; especially 
 as it has the authority of Dunbar, in his " La- 
 ment for the Deth of the Makaris." — Jamieson. 
 
 $ It is believed in Angus, that the spirit of the 
 waters appears sometimes as a man, with a very 
 frightful aspect ; and, at other times, as a horse. 
 The description, here given, must therefore be 
 viewed as the offspring of fancy. All that can 
 be said for it is, that such attributes are selected 
 as are appropriate to the scenery. — Jamieson. 
 
 And for his een, with dowie sheen, 
 Twa huge horse-mussels glar'd :§ 
 
 From his wide mow a torrent flew, 
 And soupt his reedy beard. 
 
 Twa slauky stanes seemit his spule-banes; 
 
 His briskit braid, a whin ; 
 Ilk rib sae bare, a skelvy skair ; 
 
 Ilk arm a monstrous fin. 
 
 He frae the wame a fish 
 
 With shells aw coverit owre : 
 And for his tail, the grislie whale 
 
 Could nevir match its pow'r. 
 
 With dreddour I, quhan he drew nigh, 
 
 Had maistly swarfit outricht : 
 Less fleyit at lenth I gatherit strenth, 
 
 And speirt quhat was this wicht. 
 
 Syne thrice he shook his fearsum bouk, 
 And thrice he snockerit loud ; 
 
 From ilka e'e the fire-flauchts flee, 
 And flash alangis the flude. 
 
 Quhan words he found, their elritch sound 
 
 Was like the norlan blast, 
 Frae yon deep glack, at Catla's back,|] 
 
 That skeegs the dark-brown waste. 
 
 The troublit pool conveyit the gowl 
 
 Down to yon echoin rock; 
 And to his maik, with wilsum skraik, 
 
 Ilk bird its terror spoke. 
 
 The trout, the par, now here, now thare, 
 
 As in a widdrim bang ; 
 The gerron gend gaif sic a stend, 
 
 As on the yird him flang . 
 
 And down the stream, like levin's gleam, 
 
 The fleggit salmond flew; 
 The ottar yap his prey let drap, 
 
 And to his hiddils drew. 
 
 § South Esk abounds with the fresh-water 
 oyster, vulgarly called the horse-mussel ; and, in 
 former times, a pearl fishery was carried on 
 here to considerable extent. — Jamieson. 
 
 || Part of the Grampian mountains. Catla 
 appears as a promontory, jutting out from the 
 principal ridge towards the plain. The Esk, if I 
 recollect right, issues from behind it. — Jamieson. 
 

 
 II 
 
 1 FAIRY MYTHOLOGY. 505 
 
 
 I " Vile droich," he said, " art nocht afraid ^ And mony a chiell has heard me squeal 
 
 
 1 Thy mortal life to tyne ?* 
 
 For sair-brizi'd back and banes.$ 
 
 
 1 How dar'st thou seik -with me to speik, 
 
 
 
 1 Sae far aboon thy line ? 
 
 " Within flude-mark, I aft do wark 
 Gudewillit, quhan I please; 
 
 
 }' " Yet sen thou hast thai limits past, 
 
 In quarries deep, quhile uthers sleep, 
 
 
 That sinder sprites frae men, 
 
 Greit blocks I win with ease. 
 
 
 Thy life I'll spare, and aw declare, 
 
 
 
 That worms like thee may ken. 
 
 " Yon bonnie brig quhan folk wald big, 
 To gar my stream look braw ; 
 
 
 " In kintries nar, and distant far, 
 
 A sair-toil'd wicht was I be nicht 
 
 
 Is my renoun propall't ; 
 
 I did mair than thairn aw. 
 
 
 As is the leid, my name ye'll reid, 
 
 
 
 But here I'm Kelpie call't. 
 
 " And weel thai kent quhat help I lent, 
 For thai yon image fram't, 
 
 
 " The strypes and burns, throw aw their 
 
 Aboon the pend whilk I defend ; 
 
 
 turns, 
 
 And it thai Kelpie nam't.§ 
 
 
 As weel's the waters wide, 
 
 
 
 My laws obey, thair spring-heads frae, 
 
 " Quhan lads and lasses wauk the clais, 
 
 
 Doun till the salt sea tide. 
 
 Narby yon whinny hicht, 
 The sound of me their daffin lays; 
 
 
 " Like some wild staig, I aft stravaig, 
 
 Thai dare na mudge for fricht. 
 
 
 And scamper on the wave : 
 
 
 
 Quha with a bit my mow can fit, 
 
 " Now in the midst of them I scream, 
 
 
 May gar me be his slave. 
 
 Quhan toozlin' on the haugh ; 
 Than quhihher by thaim doun the stream. 
 
 
 " To him I'll wtrk, baith mom and mirk . 
 
 Loud nickei-in in a lauch. 
 
 
 Quhile he has wark to do ; 
 
 
 
 Gin tent he tak' I do nae shak' 
 
 " Sicklike's my fun, of wark quhan run : 
 
 
 His bridle frae my mow.f 
 
 But I do meikle mair ; 
 In pool or ford can nane be smur'd 
 
 
 " Quhan Murphy's laird his biggin' rear'd, 
 
 Gin Kelpie be nae there. 
 
 
 I carryit aw the stanes ; 
 
 " Fow lang, I wat, I ken the spat, 
 
 Quhair ane sail meet his deid : 
 Nor wit nor pow'r put aff the hour. 
 
 
 
 * The vulgar idea is, that a spirit, however 
 
 For his wanweird decreed. 
 
 
 frequently it appear, will not speak, unless pre- 
 
 
 
 viously addressed. It is, however, at the same 
 
 " For oulks hefoir, alangis the shoir, 
 
 
 time believed, that the person, who ventures to 
 
 Or dancin' down the stream, 
 
 
 speak to a ghost, forfeits his life, and will soon 
 
 My lichts are seen to blaze at een, 
 
 
 lose it, in consequence of his presumption. 
 
 With wull wanerthly gleam. 
 
 
 Jamieson. 
 f The popular tradition is here faithfully de- 
 
 
 
 
 scribed; and, strange to tell! has not yet lost 
 
 \ It is pretended that Kelpie celebrated this 
 
 
 all credit. In the following verses, the principal 
 
 j memorable event in rhyme ; and that for a long 
 
 
 articles of the vulgar creed in Angus, with 
 
 time after he was often heard to cry, with a 
 
 
 respect to this supposed being, are brought to- 
 
 doleful voice, 
 
 
 gether, and illustrated by such facts as are yet 
 
 " Sair back and sair banes, 
 
 
 appealed to by the credulous. If I mistake not, 
 
 Carryin' the laird ot Murphy's stanes !" 
 
 
 none of the historical circumstances mentioned 
 
 Jamieson. 
 
 
 are older than half a century. It is only about 
 
 § A head, like that of a gorgon, appears above 
 
 
 thirty years since the bridge referred to was 
 
 the arch of the bridge. This was hewn in honour 
 
 
 built. — Jamieson. ^ 
 
 ■ f of Kelpie. — Jamieson. 
 
 
 
 
 ■ 
 
 4 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 506 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 " The hind cums in, gif haim he win, i 
 
 £ "The human schaip I sometimes aip i 
 
 
 
 And cries, as he war wod, — 
 
 As Prosenhaugh raid haim, 
 
 
 
 Sum ane sail Boon be carryit down 
 
 Ae starnless nicht, he gat a fricht, 
 
 
 
 * By that wanchancy flude !' 
 
 Maist crackt his bustuous frame. 
 
 
 
 ' The taiken leil thai ken fow weel, 
 
 " I, in a glint, lap on ahint, 
 
 
 
 On water sides quha won ; 
 
 And in my arms him fang't ; 
 
 
 
 And aw but thai, quha's weird I spae, 
 
 To his dore-cheik I keipt the cleik 
 
 
 
 Fast frae the danger run. 
 
 The carle was sair bemang' t. 
 
 
 
 " But fremmit fouk I thus provoke 
 
 " My name itsell wirks like a spell, 
 
 
 
 To meit the fate thai flee 
 
 And quiet the house can keep ; 
 
 
 
 To wilderit wichts thai're waefow lichts, 
 
 Quhan greits the wean, the nurse in vain, 
 
 
 
 But lichts of joy to me. 
 
 Thoch tyke-tyrit, tries to sleip. 
 
 
 
 " "With ruefow cries, that rend the skies, 
 
 " But gin scho say, ' Lie still, ye skrae, 
 
 
 
 Thair fate I seem to mourn, 
 
 There's Water-Kelpie's chap;' 
 
 
 
 Like crocodile, on banks of Nile ; 
 
 It's fleyit to wink, and in a blink 
 
 
 
 For I still do the turn. 
 
 It sleips as sound's a tap." 
 
 
 
 " Douce, cautious men aft fey are seen ; 
 
 He said, and thrice he rais't his voice, 
 
 
 
 Thai rin as thai war heyrt, 
 
 And gaif a horrid gowl : 
 
 
 
 Despise all rede, and court their dede : 
 
 Thrice with his tail, as with a flail, 
 
 
 
 By me are thai inspir't. 
 
 He struck the flying pool. 
 
 
 
 " Yestreen the water was in spate, 
 
 A thunderclap seem't ilka wap, 
 
 
 
 The stanners aw war cur'd ; 
 
 Hesoundin' throw the wude: 
 
 
 
 A man, nae stranger to the gate, 
 
 The fire thrice flash't; syne in he plash' t, 
 
 
 
 Raid up to tak' the ford. 
 
 And sunk beneath the flude. 
 
 
 
 " The haill town sware it wadna ride ; 
 
 
 
 
 And Kelpie had been heard: 
 
 
 
 
 
 But nae a gliffin wad he bide, 
 
 
 
 
 His shroud I had prepar'd. * 
 
 W$z JMaf^i anft §mt$. 
 
 
 * A very common tale in Scotland is here 
 
 
 alluded to by the poet. On the banks of a rapid 
 
 
 
 
 stream the Water Spirit was heard repeatedly 
 
 [Fkom Buchan's Ballads.] 
 
 
 
 to exclaim, in a dismal tone, " The hour is come, 
 
 
 
 
 but not the man;" when a person coming up, 
 
 
 
 
 contrary to all remonstrances, endeavoured to 
 
 " open the door, my honey, my heart, 
 
 
 
 ford the stream, and perished in the attempt. 
 
 open the door, my ain kind dearie ; 
 
 
 
 The original story is to be found in Gervase of 
 
 For dinna ye mind upo' the time, 
 
 
 
 Tilbury.— In the parish of Castleton, the same 
 
 We met in the wood at the well sae wearie ? 
 
 
 
 story is told, with this variation, that the bye- 
 
 
 
 
 standers prevented, by force, the predestined 
 
 " gi'e me my castick, my dow, my dow, 
 
 
 
 individual from entering the river, and shut him 
 
 gi'c me my castick, my ain kind dearie ; 
 
 
 
 up in the church, where he was next morning 
 
 For dinna ye mind upo' the time, 
 
 
 
 found suffocated, with his face lying immersed 
 
 We met in the wood at the well sae wearie ? 
 
 
 
 in the baptismal font. To a fey person, there- 
 
 
 
 
 ore, Shakespeare's words literally apply : 
 
 " gi'e me my brose, my dow, my dow, 
 gi'e me my brose, my ain kind dearie ; 
 
 
 
 Put but a little water in a spoon, 
 
 And it shall be as all the ocean, 
 
 For dinna ye mind upo' the time, 
 
 
 
 Enough to swallow such a being up. — Scott. ; 
 
 & We met in the wood at the well sae wjarie ? 
 
 
 
 
FAIRY MYTHOLOGY. 
 
 507 
 
 " O gi'e me my kail, my dow, my dow, 
 O gi'o me my kail, my ain kind dearie ; 
 
 For dinna ye mind upo' the time, 
 
 We met in the wood at the well sae wearie 
 
 " O lay me down, my dow, my dow, 
 O Jay me down, my ain kind dearie ; 
 
 For dinna ye mind upo' the time, 
 
 "We met in the wood at the well sae 
 wearie ?" 
 
 " O woe to you now, my dow, my dow, 
 O woe to you now, my wile fau'se dearie ; 
 
 And oh I for the time I had you again, 
 
 Plunging the dubs at the well sae wearie '." 
 
 JHag of tie J)teO ©lew. 
 
 [From " The Mountain Bard," by James 
 Hogg.] 
 
 I will tell you of ane wondrous tale, 
 
 As ever was told by man, 
 Or ever was sung by minstrel meet 
 
 Since this base world began : — 
 
 It is of ane May, and ane lovely May, 
 
 That dwelt in the Moril Glen, 
 The fairest flower of mortal frame, 
 
 But a devil amongst the men ; 
 
 For nine of them sticket themselves for love, 
 
 And ten louped in the main, 
 And seven-and-thretty brake their hearts, 
 
 And never loved women again; 
 
 For ilk ane trowit she was in love, 
 
 And ran wodde for a while — 
 There was siccan language in every look,' 
 
 And a speire in every smile. 
 
 And she had seventy scores of ewes, 
 That blett o'er dale and down, 
 
 On the bonnie braid lands of the Moril Glen, 
 And these were all her own ; 
 
 And she had stotts, and sturdy steers, 
 
 And blithsome kids enew, 
 That danced as light as gloaming flies 
 
 Out through the falling dew 
 
 And this May she had a snow-white bull, 
 
 The dread of the hail countrye, 
 And three-and-thretty good milk kye, 
 
 To bear him companye ; 
 
 And she had geese and goslings too, 
 
 And ganders of muekil din, 
 And peacocks, with their gaudy trains, 
 
 And hearts of pride within ; 
 
 And she had cocks with curled kaims, 
 And hens, full crouse and glad, 
 
 That chanted in her own stack-yard, 
 And cackillit and laid like mad ; 
 
 But where her minnie gat all that gear 
 
 And all that lordly trim, 
 The Lord in Heaven he knew full well, 
 
 But nobody knew but him ; 
 
 For she never yielded to mortal man, 
 
 To prince, nor yet to king — 
 She never was given in holy church, 
 
 Nor wedded with ane ring. 
 
 So all men wist, and all men said ; 
 
 But the tale was in sore mistime, 
 For a maiden she could hardly be, 
 
 "With a daughter in beauty's prime. 
 
 But this bonnie May, she never knew 
 
 A father's kindly claim ; 
 She never was bless'd in holy church, 
 
 Nor ohristen'd in holy name. 
 
 But there she lived an earthly flower 
 
 Of beauty so supreme, 
 Some fear'd she was of the mermaid's brood, 
 
 Come out of the salt sea faeme. 
 
 Some said she was found in a fairy ring, 
 
 And born of the fairy queen ; 
 For there was a rainbow behind the moon 
 
 That night she first was seen. 
 
 Some said her mother was a witch, 
 
 Come frae ane far countrye ; 
 Or a princess loved by a weird warlock 
 
 In a land beyond the sea ! 
 
 Oh, there are doings here below 
 
 That mortal ne'er should ken ; 
 For there are things in this fair world 
 
 Beyond the reach of men. 
 
508 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 Ae thing most sure and certain was — 
 
 For the bedesmen told it me — 
 That the knight who coft the Moril Glen 
 
 Ne'er spoke a word but three. 
 
 And the masons who biggit that wild ha' 
 Ne'er spoke word good nor ill ; [house 
 
 They came like a dream, and pass'd away 
 Like shadows o'er the hill. 
 
 They came like a dream, and pass'd away 
 
 Whither no man could tell ; 
 But they ate their bread like Christian men, 
 
 And drank of the crystal well. 
 
 And whenever man said word to them, 
 They stay'd their speech full soon ; 
 
 For they shook their heads, and raised their 
 And look'd to heaven aboon. [hands. 
 
 And the lady came — and there she 'bade 
 
 For mony a lonely day ; 
 But whether she bred her bairn to God — 
 
 To read but and to pray- 
 There was no man wist, though all men 
 
 And guess'd with fear and dread ; [guess'd, 
 But oh she grew ane virgin rose, 
 
 To seemly womanheid ! 
 
 And no man could look on her face, 
 And eyne that beam'd so clear, 
 
 But felt a stang gang through his heart, 
 Far sharper than a spear. 
 
 It was not like ane prodde or pang 
 
 That strength could overwin, 
 But like ane red hot gaud of iron 
 
 Beeking his heart within. 
 
 So that around the Moril Glen 
 
 Our brave young men did lie, 
 With limbs as lydder, and as lythe, 
 
 As duddis hung out to dry. 
 
 And aye the tears ran down in streams 
 Ower cheeks right woe-begone; 
 
 And aye they gasped, and they gratte, 
 And thus made piteous moan : — 
 
 " Alake that I had ever been born, 
 
 Or dandelit on the knee; 
 Or rockit in ane cradle bed, 
 
 Beneath a mother's e'e ! 
 
 " Oh ! had I died before my cheek 
 
 To woman's breast had lain, 
 Then had I ne'er for woman's love 
 
 Endured this burning pain 1 
 
 " For love is like the fiery flame 
 
 That quivers through the rain, 
 And love is like the pang of death 
 
 That splits the heart in twain. 
 
 " If I had loved earthly thing, 
 
 Of earthly blithesomeness, 
 I might have been beloved again, 
 
 And bathed in earthly bliss. 
 
 " But I have loved ane freakish fay 
 
 Of frowardness and sin, 
 With heavenly beauty on the face, 
 
 And heart of stone within. 
 
 " O, for the gloaming calm of death 
 
 To close my mortal day — 
 The last benighting heave of breath, 
 
 That rends the soul away!" 
 
 But word's gone east, and word's gone west, 
 
 'Mong high and low degree, 
 Quhile it went to the king upon the throne, 
 
 And ane wrothful man was he.— 
 
 " What !" said the king, " and shall we eit 
 
 In sackcloth mourning sad, 
 Quhille all mine lieges of the land 
 
 For ane young quean run mad ? 
 
 " Go saddle me my milk-white steed, 
 
 Of true Megaira brode; 
 I will go and see this wondrous dame, 
 
 And prove her by the rode. 
 
 " And if I find her elfin queen, 
 
 Or thing of fairy kind, 
 I will burn her into ashes small, 
 
 And sift them on the wind I" 
 
 The king hath chosen fourscore knights, 
 
 All busked gallantlye, 
 And he is away to the Moril Glen, 
 
 As fast as he can dree. 
 
 And when he came to the Moril Glen, 
 
 Ae morning fair and clear, 
 This lovely May on horseback rode 
 
 To hunt the fallow deer. 
 
FAIRY MYTHOLOGY. 
 
 509 
 
 Her palfrey was of snowy hue, & 
 
 A pale unearthly thing, 
 That revell'd over hill and dale 
 
 Like bird upon the wing. 
 
 Her screen was like a net of gold, 
 
 That dazzled as it flew; 
 Her mantle was of the rainbow's red, 
 
 Her rail of its bonnie blue. 
 
 A golden comb with diamonds bright, 
 
 Her seemly virgin crown, 
 Shone like the new moon's lady light 
 
 O'er cloud of amber brown. 
 
 The lightning that shot from her eyne, 
 
 Flicker'd like elfin brand ; 
 It was sharper nor the sharpest spear 
 
 In all Northumberland. 
 
 The hawk that on her bridle arm 
 
 Outspread his pinions blue, 
 To keep him steady on the perch 
 
 As his loved mistress flew, 
 
 Although his een shone like the gleam, 
 
 Upon ane sable sea, 
 Yet to the twain that ower them beam'd, 
 
 Compared they could not be. 
 
 Like carry ower the morning sun 
 
 That shimmers to the wind, 
 So flew her locks upon the gale, 
 
 And stream'd afar behind. 
 
 The king he wheel'd him round about, 
 
 And calleth to his men, 
 " Yonder she comes, this wierdly witch, 
 
 This spirit of the glen J 
 
 " Come rank your master up behind, 
 
 This serpent to belay ; 
 111 let you hear me put her down 
 
 In grand polemic way." 
 
 Swift came the maid ower strath andstron- 
 
 Nae dantonit dame was she— 
 Until the king her path withstood, 
 
 In might and majestye. 
 
 The virgin cast on him a look, 
 
 With gay and graceful air, 
 As on some thing below her note, 
 
 That ought not to have been there. 
 
 The king, whose belt was like to burst, 
 
 With speeches most divine, 
 Now felt ane throbbing of the heart, 
 
 And quaking of the spine. 
 
 And aye he gasped for his breath, 
 
 And gaped in dire dismay, 
 And waved his arm, and smote his breast ; 
 
 But word he could not say. 
 
 The spankie grewis they scowr'd the dale, 
 
 The dun deer to restrain ; 
 The virgin gave her steed the rein, 
 
 And follow'd, might and main. 
 
 " Go bring her back," the king he cried ; 
 
 " This reifery must not be. 
 Though you should bind her hands and fee 
 
 Go bring her back to me." 
 
 The deer she flew, the garf and grew 
 
 They follow'd hard behind; 
 The milk-white palfrey brush'd the dew 
 
 Far fleeter nor the wind. 
 
 But woe betide the lords and knights, 
 
 That taiglit in the dell ! 
 For though with whip and spur they plied 
 
 Full far behind they fell. 
 
 They look'd outowre their left shoulders, 
 
 To see what they might see, 
 And there the king, in fit of love, 
 
 Lay spurring on the lea. 
 
 And aye he batter'd with his feet, 
 
 And rowtea with despair, 
 And pull'd the grass up by the roots, 
 
 Ana flang it on the air! 
 
 " What ails, what ails my royal liege ? 
 
 Such grief I do deplore." 
 " Oh I'm bewitched," the king replied, 
 
 " And gone for evermore ! 
 
 " Go bring her back — go bring her back- 
 Go bring her back to me ; 
 
 For I must either die of love, 
 Or own that dear ladye 1 
 
 *' That god of love out through my soul 
 
 Hath shot his arrows keen ; 
 And I am enchanted through the heart, 
 
 The liver, and the spltren." 
 

 
 
 
 510 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 The deer was slain ; the royal train i 
 
 i There was one eye, and one alone, 
 
 
 
 Then closed the virgin round, 
 
 Beheld the deeds were done ; 
 
 
 
 And then her fair and lily hands 
 
 But the lovely queen of Fair Scotland 
 
 
 
 Behind her back were bound. 
 
 Ne'er saw the morning sun ; 
 
 
 
 But who should bind her winsome feet ? 
 
 And seventy-seven wedded dames, 
 
 
 
 That bred such strife and pain, 
 
 As fair as e'er were born, 
 
 
 
 That sixteen brave and belted knights 
 
 The very pride of all the land, 
 
 
 
 Lay gasping on the plain. 
 
 Were dead before the morn. 
 
 
 
 And when she came before the king, 
 
 Then there was nought but mourning weeds, 
 
 
 
 Ane ireful carle was he ; 
 
 And sorrow, and dismay; 
 
 
 
 Saith he, " Dame, you must be my love, 
 
 While burial met with burial still, 
 
 
 
 Or burn beneath ane tree. 
 
 And jostled by the way. 
 
 
 
 " For I am so sore in love with thee, 
 
 And graves were howkit in green kirkyards. 
 
 
 
 I cannot go nor stand ; 
 
 And howkit deep and wide ; 
 
 
 
 And thinks thou nothing to put down 
 
 While bedlars swarfit for very toil, 
 
 
 
 The king of fair Scotland?" 
 
 The comely corps to hide. 
 
 
 
 " No, I can ne'er be love to thee, 
 
 The graves, with their unseemly jaws, 
 
 
 
 Nor any lord thou hast ; 
 
 Stood gaping day and night 
 
 
 
 For you are married men each one, 
 
 To swallow up the fair and young; — 
 
 
 
 And I a maiden chaste. 
 
 It was ane grievous sight ! 
 
 
 
 " But here I promise, and I vow 
 
 And the bonnie May of the Moril Glen 
 
 
 
 By Scotland's king and crown, 
 
 Is weeping in despair, 
 
 
 
 Who first a widower shall prove, 
 
 For she saw the hills of fair Scotland 
 
 
 
 Shall claim me as his own." 
 
 Could be her home nae mair. 
 
 
 
 The king hath mounted his milk-white 
 
 Then there were chariots came o'er night, 
 
 
 
 One word he said not more, — [steed,— 
 
 As silent and as soon 
 
 
 
 And he is away from the Moril Glen, 
 
 As shadow of ane little cloud 
 
 
 
 As ne'er rode king before. 
 
 In the wan light of the moon. 
 
 
 
 He sank his rowels to the naife, 
 
 Some said they came out of the rock, 
 
 
 
 And scour'd the muir and dale, 
 
 And some out of the sea ; 
 
 
 
 He held his bonnet on his head, 
 
 And some said they were sent from hell, 
 
 
 
 And louted to the gale, 
 
 To bring that fair ladye. 
 
 
 
 Till wives ran skrelghing to the door, 
 
 When the day sky began to frame 
 
 
 
 Holding their hands on high ; 
 
 The grizly eastern fell, 
 
 
 
 They never saw king in love before, 
 
 And the little wee bat was bound to seek 
 
 
 
 In such extremitye. 
 
 His dark and eery cell, 
 
 
 
 And every lord and every knight 
 
 The fairest flower of mortal frame 
 
 
 
 Made off his several way, 
 
 Pass'd from the Moril Glen ; 
 
 
 
 All galloping as they had been mad, 
 
 And ne'er may such a deadly eye 
 
 
 
 Withouten stop or stay. 
 
 Shine amongst Christian men] 
 
 
 
 But there was never such dool and pain 
 
 In seven chariots, gilded bright, 
 
 
 
 In any land befel ; 
 
 The train went o'er the fell, 
 
 
 
 For there is wickedness in man, 
 
 All wrapt within a shower of hail ; 
 
 
 
 That grieveth me to tell. \ 
 
 i Whither no man could tell; 
 
 
 
 , 
 
FAIRY MYTHOLOGY. 
 
 511 
 
 But there was a ship in the Firth of Forth, i' • 
 
 The like ne'er sail'd the faeme, 
 For no man of her country knew 
 
 Her colours or her name. 
 
 Her mast was made of beaten gold, 
 
 Her sails of the silken twine, 
 And a thousand pennons stream'd behind, 
 
 And trembled o'er the brine. 
 
 A.s she lay mirror'd in the main, 
 
 It was a comely view, 
 So many rainbows round her play'd 
 
 With every breeze that blew. 
 
 And the hailstone shroud it rattled loud, 
 
 Right over ford and fen, 
 And swathed the flower of the Moril Glen 
 
 From eyes of sinful men. 
 
 And the hailstone shroud it wheel'd and 
 As wan as death unshriven, [row'd, 
 
 Like dead cloth of an angel grim, 
 Or winding sheet of heaven. 
 
 It was a fearsome sight to see 
 
 Toil through the morning gray, 
 And whenever it reach'd the comely ship, 
 
 She set sail and away. 
 
 She set her sail before the gale, 
 
 As it began to sing, 
 And she heaved and rocked down the tide, 
 
 Unlike an earthly thing. 
 
 The dolphins fled out of her way 
 
 Into the creeks of Fife, 
 And the blackguard seals they yowlit for 
 
 And swam for death and life. [dread, 
 
 But aye the ship, the bonnie ship, 
 
 Outowre the green wave flew, 
 Swift as the solan on the wing, 
 
 Or terrified sea-mew. 
 
 No billow breasted on her prow, 
 
 Nor levell'd on the lee ; 
 She seem'd to sail upon the air 
 
 And never touch the sea. 
 
 And away, and away went the bonnie ship, 
 Which man never more did see ; 
 
 But whether she went to heaven or hell, 
 Was ne'er made known to me. 
 
 mtaiemg. 
 
 [Fbom " The Queen's Wake," by James Hogg. 
 We give this the most beautiful perhaps of all 
 the Ettrick Shepherd's productions, as an ap- 
 propriate close to the Ballads on Fairy Mytho- 
 logy. — "Besides the old tradition," says the au- 
 thor, " on which this ballad is founded, there 
 are some modern incidents of a similar nature, 
 which cannot well be accounted for, yet are as 
 well attested as any occurrence that has taken 
 place in the present age. The relation may be 
 amusing to some readers. A man in the parish 
 of Traquair, and county of Peebles, was busied 
 one day casting turf in a large open field opposite 
 to the mansion-house — the spot is well known, 
 and still pointed out as rather unsafe; his 
 daughter, a child seven years of age, was playing 
 beside him, and amusing him with her prattle. 
 Chancing to ask a question at her, he was sur- 
 prised at receiving no answer, and, looking be- 
 hind him, he perceived that his child was not 
 there. He always averred that, as far as ha 
 could remember, she had been talking to him 
 about half a minute before ; he was certain it 
 was not above a whole one at most. It was in 
 vain that he ran searching all about like one dis- 
 tracted, calling her name ; — no trace of her re- 
 mained. He went home in a state of mind that 
 may be better conceived than expressed, and. 
 raised the people of the parish, who searched for 
 her several days with the same success. Every 
 pool in the river, every bush and den on the 
 mountains around was searched in vain. It was 
 remarked that the father never much encourag- 
 ed the search, being thoroughly persuaded that 
 she was carried away by some invisible being, 
 else she could not have vanished so suddenly. 
 As a last resource, he applied to the minister of 
 Inverleithen, a neighbouring divine of exemplary 
 piety and zeal in religious matters, who enjoined 
 him to cause prayers be offered to God for her 
 in seven Christian churches, next Sabbath, at 
 the same instant of time ; ' and then,' said he, 
 ' if she is dead, God will forgive our sin in pray- 
 ing for the dead, as we do it through ignorance ; 
 and if she is still alive, I will answer for it, that 
 all the devils in hell shall be unable to keep her.* 
 The injunction was punctually attended to. 
 She was remembered in the prayers of all the 
 s neighbouring congregations, next Sunday, at the 
 
512 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 same hour, and never were there such prayers for i 
 fervour heard before. There was one divine in 
 particular, Mr. Davidson, who prayed in such a 
 manner that all the hearers trembled. As the 
 old divine foreboded, so it fell out. On that 
 very day, and within an hour of the time on 
 which these prayers were offered, the girl was 
 found in the Plora wood, sitting, picking the 
 bark from a tree. She could give no perfect ac- 
 count of the circumstances which had befallen 
 to her, but she said she did not want plenty 
 of meat, for that her mother came and fed her 
 with milk and bread several times a-day, and 
 sung her to sleep at night. Her skin had ac- 
 quired a bluish cast, which wore gradually off in 
 the course of a few weeks. Her name was Jane 
 Brown ; she lived to a very advanced age, and 
 was known to many still alive. Every circum- 
 stance of this story is truth, if the father's report 
 of the suddenness of her disappearance may be 
 relied on. 
 
 " Another circumstance, though it happened 
 still later, is not less remarkable. A shepherd of 
 Tushilaw, in the parish of Ettrick, whose name 
 wa3 Walter Dalgleish, went out to the heights 
 of that farm, one Sabbath morning, to herd 
 the young sheep for his son, and let him to 
 church. He took his own dinner along with 
 him, and his son's breakfast. When the sermons 
 were over, the lad went straight home, and did 
 not return to his father. Night came, but 
 nothing of the old shepherd appeared. When it 
 grew very late his dog came home — seemed ter- 
 rified, and refused to take any meat. The family 
 were ill at ease during the night, especially as 
 they never had known his dog leave him before ; 
 and early next morning the lad arose and went 
 to the height, to look after his father and his 
 flock. He found his sheep all scattered, and his 
 father's dinner unbroken, lying on the same spot 
 where they had parted the day before. At the 
 distance of twenty yards from the spot, the plaid 
 which the old man wore was lying as if it had 
 been flung from him, and a little farther on, in 
 the same direction, his bonnet was found, but 
 nothing of himself. The country people, as on 
 all such occasions, rose in great numbers, and 
 searched for him many days. My father, and 
 several old men still alive, were of the party. 
 He could not be found or heard of, neither dead 
 nor alive, and at length they gave up all thoughts 
 of ever seeing him more. 
 
 " On the twentieth day after his disappear- 
 ance, a shepherd's wife, at a place called Berry- 
 
 bush, came in as the family was sitting down to 
 dinner, and said, that if it were possible to be- 
 lieve that Walter Dalgleish was still in existence, 
 she would say yonder was he coming down the 
 hill. They all ran out to watch the phenome- 
 non, and as the person approached nigher, they 
 perceived that it was actually he, walking with- 
 out his plaid and his bonnet. The place where 
 he was first descried is not a mile distant from 
 that where he was last seen, and there is neither 
 brake, hag, nor bush. When he came into the 
 house, he shook hands with them all — asked for 
 his family, and spoke as if he had been absent 
 for years, and as if convinced something had be- 
 fallen them. As they perceived something sin- 
 gular in his looks and manner, they unfortu- 
 nately forebore asking him any questions at first, 
 but desired him to sit and share their dinner. 
 This he readily complied with, and began to sup 
 some broth with seeming eagerness. He had 
 only taken one or two spoonfuls when he sud- 
 denly stopped, a kind of rattling noise was 
 heard in his breast, and he sunk back in a faint. 
 They put him to bed, and from that time forth 
 he never spoke another word that any person 
 could make sense of. He was removed to his 
 own home, where he lingered a few weeks, and 
 then died. What befell him remains to this day 
 a mystery, and for ever must."] 
 
 Bonnie Kilmeny gaed up the glen ; 
 But it wasna to meet Duneira's men, 
 Nor the rosy monk of the isle to see, 
 For Kilmeny was pure as pure could be. 
 It was only to hear the Yorlin sing, 
 And pu' the cress-flower round the spring; 
 The scarlet hypp and the hindberrye, 
 And the nut that hang frae the hazel tree ; 
 For Kilmeny was pure as pure could be. 
 But lang may her minny look o'er the wa', 
 And lang may she seek i' the green-wood shaw ; 
 Lang the laird of Duneira blame, 
 And lang, lang greet or Kilmeny come name ! 
 
 When many a day had come and fled, 
 When grief grew calm, and hope was dead, 
 When mess for Kilmeny's soul had been sung, 
 When the bedes-man had prayed, and the dead 
 
 bell rung, 
 Late, late in a gloamin when all was still, 
 When the fringe was red on the westlin hill, 
 The wood was sere, the moon i' the wane, 
 The reek o' the cot hung over the plain, 
 Like a little wee cloud in the world its lane ; 
 
FAIRY MYTHOLOGY, 
 
 513 
 
 When the ingle lowed with an eiry leme, 
 Late, late in the gloamin Kilmeny came hame ! 
 
 " Kilmeny, Kilmeny, where have you been ? 
 Lang ha'e we sought baith holt and den ; 
 By linn, by ford, and green-wood tree, 
 Yet you are halesome and fair to see. 
 Where gat you that joup o' the lily seheen ? 
 That bonnie snood of the birk sae green ? 
 And these roses, the fairest that ever were seen ? 
 Kilmeny, Kilmeny, where have you been P" 
 
 Kilmeny looked up with a lovely grace, 
 But nae smile was seen on Kilmeny's face ; 
 As still was her look, and as still was her e'e, 
 As the stillness that lay on the emerant lea, 
 Or the mist that sleeps on a waveless sea. 
 For Kilmeny had been she knew not where, 
 And Kilmeny had seen what she could not 
 
 declare ; 
 Kilmeny had been where the cock never crew, 
 Where the rain never fell, and the wind never 
 
 blew; 
 But it seemed as the harp of the sky had rung, 
 And the airs of heaven played round her tongue, 
 When she spake of the lovely forms she had 
 And a land where sin had never been ; [seen, 
 A land of love, and a land of light, 
 "VVithouten sun, or moon, or night; 
 Where the river swa'd a living stream, 
 And the light a pure celestial beam : 
 The land of vision it would seem, 
 A still, an everlasting dream. 
 
 In yon green-wood ther > is a waik, 
 And in that waik there is a wene, 
 
 And in that wene there is a maike, 
 That neither has flesh, blood, nor bane; 
 
 And down in yon green-wood he walks his 
 lane. 
 
 In that green wene Kilmeny lay, 
 Her bosom happed wi' the flowerets gay ; 
 But the air was soft and the silence deep, 
 And bonnie Kilmeny fell sound asleep; 
 She kend nae mair, nor opened her e'e, 
 Till waked by the hymns of a far countrye. 
 
 She 'wakened on a couch of the silk sae slim, 
 AH striped wi' the bars of the rainbow's rim ; 
 And lovely beings round were rife, 
 Who erst had travelled mortal life ; 
 And aye they smiled, and 'gan to speer, 
 " What spirit has brought this mortal here ?"— 
 
 " Lang have I journeyed the world wide," 
 A meek and reverend fere replied ; 
 " Baith night and day I have watched the fair, 
 Eident a thousand years and mair. 
 Yes, I have watched o'er ilk degree, 
 Wherever blooms femenitye ; 
 But sinless virgin, free of stain 
 In mind and body, fand I nane. 
 Never, since the banquet of time, 
 Found I a virgin in her prime, 
 Till late this bonnie maiden I saw 
 As spotless as the morning snaw : 
 Full twenty years she has lived as free 
 As the spirits that sojourn in this countrye : 
 I have brought her away frae the snares of men, 
 That sin or death she never may ken."— 
 
 They clasped her waist and her hand sae fair, 
 They kissed her cheek, and they kemed her hair, 
 And round came many a blooming fere, 
 Saying, " Bonnie Kilmeny, ye're welcome here ! 
 Women are freed of the littand scorn : 
 O, blessed be the day Kilmeny was born ! 
 Now shall the land of the spirits see, 
 Now shall it ken what a woman may be i 
 Many a lang year in sorrow and pain, 
 Many a lang year through the world we've gane, 
 Commissioned to watch fair womankind, 
 For it's they who nourice the immortal mind. 
 We have watched their steps as the dawning 
 
 shone, 
 And deep in the green-wood walks alone ; 
 By lily bower and silken bed, 
 The viewless tears have o'er them shed ; 
 Have soothed their ardent minds to sleep, 
 Or left the couch of love to weep. 
 We have seen ! we have seen ! but the time 
 
 must come, 
 And the angels will weep at the day of doom ! 
 
 " 0, would the fairest of mortal kind 
 Aye keep the holy truths in mind, 
 That kindred spirits their motions see, 
 Who watch their ways with anxious e'e, 
 And grieve for the guilt of humanitye ! 
 0, sweet to heaven the maiden's prayer, 
 And the sigh that heaves a bosom sae fair! 
 And dear to heaven the words of truth, 
 And the praise of virtue frae beauty's mouth. 1 
 And dear to the viewless forms of air, 
 The minds that kythe as the body fair ! 
 
 " 0, bonnie Kilmeny ! free frae stain, 
 If ever you seek the world again, 
 
 a* 
 

 
 514 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 
 That world of sin, of sorrow and fear, 4^ They bore her far to a mountain green, 
 
 
 
 0, tell of the joys that are waiting here; 
 
 To see what mortal never had seen ; 
 
 
 
 And tell of the signs you shall shortly see ; 
 
 And they seated her high on a purple sward, 
 
 
 
 Of the times that are now, and the times that 
 
 And bade her heed what she saw and heard, 
 
 
 
 shall be."— 
 
 And note the changes the spirits wrought, 
 For now she lived in the land of thought. 
 
 
 
 They lifted Kilmeny, they led her away, 
 
 She looked, and she saw nor sun nor skies, 
 
 
 
 And she walked in the light of a sunless day : 
 
 But a crystal dome of a thousand diea: 
 
 
 
 The sky was a dome of crystal bright, 
 
 She looked, and she saw nae land aright, 
 
 
 
 The fountain of vision, and fountain of light : 
 
 But an endless whirl of glory and light : 
 
 
 
 The emerald fields were of dazzUng glow, 
 
 | And radiant beings went and came 
 
 
 
 And the flowers of everlasting blow. 
 
 Far swifter than wind, or the linked flame; 
 
 
 
 Then deep in the stream her body they laid, 
 
 ; She hid her een frae the dazzling view ; 
 
 
 
 That her youth and beauty never might fade; 
 
 She looked again, and the scene was new. 
 
 
 
 And they smiled on heaven, when they saw her 
 
 
 
 
 lie 
 
 She saw a sun on a summer sky, 
 
 
 
 In the stream of life that wandered bye. 
 
 And clouds of amber sailing bye ; 
 
 
 
 And she heard a song, she heard it sung, 
 
 A lovely land beneath her lay, 
 
 
 
 She kend not where ; but sae sweetly it rung, 
 
 And that land had glens and mountains gray ; 
 
 
 
 It fell on her ear like a dream of the morn : 
 
 And that land had valleys and hoary piles, 
 
 
 
 " ! blest be the day Kilmeny was born ! 
 
 | And marled seas and a thousand isles ; 
 
 
 
 Now shall the land of the spirits see, 
 
 Its fields were speckled, its forests green, 
 
 
 
 Now shall it ken what a woman may be ! 
 
 And its lakes were all of the dazzling sheen, 
 
 
 
 The sun that shines on the world sae bright, 
 
 Like magic mirrors, where slumbering lay 
 
 
 
 A borrowed gleid frae the fountain of light ; 
 
 The sun and the sky and the cloudlet gray ; 
 
 
 
 And the moon that sleeks the sky sae dun, 
 
 Which heaved and trembled, and gently swung, 
 
 
 
 Like a gouden bow, or a beamless sun, 
 
 On every shore they seemed to be hung; 
 
 
 
 Shall wear away, and be seen nae mair, 
 
 For there they were seen on their downward 
 
 
 
 And the angels shall miss them travelling the 
 
 plain 
 
 
 
 air. 
 
 A thousand times and a thousand again ; 
 
 
 
 But lang, lang after baith night and day, 
 
 In winding lake and placid firth, 
 
 
 
 When the sun and the world have elyed away ; 
 
 Little peaceful heavens in the bosom .of earth. 
 
 
 
 When the sinner has gane to his waesome 
 
 
 
 
 doom, 
 
 Kilmeny sighed and seemed to grieve, 
 
 
 
 Kilmeny shall smile in eternal bloom !"— 
 
 For she found her heart to that land did cleave ; 
 She saw the corn wave on the vale, 
 
 
 
 They bore her away, she wist not how, 
 
 She saw the deer run down the dale ; 
 
 
 
 For she felt not arm nor rest below ; 
 
 She saw the plaid and the broad claymore, 
 
 
 
 But so swift they wained her through the 
 
 And the brows that the badge of freedom bore ; 
 
 
 
 light, 
 
 And she thought she had seen the land before. 
 
 
 
 'Twas like the motion of sound or sight; 
 
 
 
 
 They seemed to split the gales of air, 
 
 She saw a lady sit on a throne, 
 
 
 
 And yet nor gale nor breeze was there. 
 
 The fairest that ever the sun shone on ! 
 
 
 
 Unnumbered groves below them grew, 
 
 A lion licked her hand of milk, 
 
 
 
 They came, they past, and backward flew, 
 
 And she held him in a leish of silk ; 
 
 
 
 Like floods of blossoms gliding on, 
 
 And a leifu' maiden stood at her knee, 
 
 
 
 In moment seen, in moment gone. 
 
 With a silver wand and melting e'e; 
 
 
 
 O, never vales to mortal view 
 
 Her sovereign shield till love stole in, 
 
 
 
 Appeared like those o'er which they flew J 
 
 And poisoned all the fount within. 
 
 
 
 That land to human spirits given, 
 
 
 
 
 The lowermost vales :>f the storied heaven ; 
 
 Then a gruff untoward bedes-man came, 
 
 
 
 From thence they can view the world below, 
 
 And hundit the lion on his dame ; 
 
 
 
 And heaven's blue gates with sapphires glow, 
 
 And the guardian maid wi" the dauntless e'e, 
 
 
 
 More glory yet unmeet to know. ij 
 
 - She dropped a tear, and left her knee ; 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 FAIRY MYTHOLOGY. 5 15 
 
 
 And she saw till the queen frae the lion fled, 4^ The singer's voice wad sink away, 
 
 
 
 Till the bonniest flower of the woild lay dead; 
 
 And the string of his harp wad cease to play. 
 
 
 
 A coffin was set on a distant plain, 
 
 But she saw till the sorrows of man were bye, 
 
 
 
 And she saw the red blood fall like rain : 
 
 And all was love and harmony ; 
 
 
 
 Then bonny Kilmeny's heart grew sail-, 
 
 Till the stars of heaven fell calmly away, 
 
 
 
 And 6he turned away, and could look nae 
 
 Like the flakes of snaw on a winter day. 
 
 
 
 mair. 
 
 Then Kilmeny begged again to see 
 
 
 
 Then the gruff grim carle girned amain, 
 
 The friends she had left in her own countrye, 
 
 
 
 And they trampled him down, but he rose 
 
 To tell of the place where she had been, 
 
 
 
 again ; 
 
 And the glories that lay in the land unseen ; 
 
 
 
 And he baited the lion to deeds of weir, 
 
 To warn the living maidens fair, 
 
 
 
 Till he lapped the blood to the kingdom dear ; 
 
 The loved of Heaven, the spirits' care, 
 
 
 
 And weening his head was danger-preef, 
 
 That all whose minds unmeled remain 
 
 
 
 When crowned with the rose and clover leaf, 
 
 Shall bloom in beauty when time is gane. 
 
 
 
 He gowled at the carle, and chased him away 
 
 
 
 
 To feed wi' the deer on the mountain gray. 
 
 With distant music, soft and deep, 
 
 
 
 He gowled at the carle, and he gecked at 
 
 They lulled Kilmeny sound asleep ; 
 
 
 
 Heaven, 
 
 And when she awakened, she lay her lane, 
 
 
 
 But his mark was set, and his arles given. 
 
 All happed with flowers in the green-wood wene. 
 
 
 
 Kilmeny a while her een withdrew ; 
 
 When seven lang years had come and fled ; 
 
 
 
 She looked again, and the scene was new. 
 
 When grief was calm, and hope was dead ; 
 When scarce was remembered Kilmeny's name, 
 
 
 
 She saw below her fair unfurled 
 
 Late, late in a gloamin Kilmeny came hame ■ 
 
 
 
 One half of all the glowing world, 
 
 And 0, her beauty was fair to see, 
 
 
 
 Where oceans rolled, and rivers ran, 
 
 But still and steadfast was her e'e! 
 
 
 
 To bound the aims of sinful man. 
 
 Such beauty bard may never declare, 
 
 
 i 
 
 She saw a people, fierce and fell, 
 
 For there was no pride nor passion there ; 
 
 
 
 Burst frae their bounds like fiends of hell ; 
 
 And the soft desire of maiden's een 
 
 
 
 There lilies grew, and the eagle flew, 
 
 In that mild face could never be seen* 
 
 
 
 And she herked on her ravening crew, 
 
 Her seymar was the lily flower, 
 
 
 
 Till the cities and towers were wrapt in a 
 
 And her cheek the moss-rose in the shower. 
 
 
 
 blaze, 
 
 And her voice like the distant melodye, 
 
 
 
 And the thunder it roared o'er the lands and 
 
 That floats along the twilight sea. 
 
 
 
 the seas. 
 
 But she loved to raike the lanely glen, 
 
 
 
 The widows they wailed, and the red blood ran, 
 
 And keeped afar frae the haunts of men; 
 
 
 
 And she threatened an end to the race of 
 
 Her holy hymns unheard to sing, 
 
 
 
 man: 
 
 To suck the flowers, and drink the spring,- 
 
 
 
 She never lened, nor stood in awe, 
 
 But wherever her peaceful form appeared, 
 
 
 
 Till caught by the lion's deadly paw. 
 
 The wild beasts of the hill were cheered; 
 
 
 
 Oh ! then the eagle swinked for life, 
 
 The wolf played biythely round the field, 
 
 
 
 And brainzelled up a mortal strife ; 
 
 The lordly byson lowed and kneeled ; 
 
 
 
 But flew she north, or flew 6he south, 
 
 The dun deer wooad with manner bland, 
 
 
 
 She met wi' the gowl of the lion's mouth. 
 
 And cowered aneath her lily hand. 
 And when at even the woolands rung, 
 
 
 
 With a mooted wing and waefu' maen, 
 
 When hymns of other worlds she sung 
 
 
 
 The eagle sought her eiry again ; 
 
 In ecstasy of sweet devotion, 
 
 
 
 But lang may she cower in her bloody nest, 
 
 0, then the glen was all in motion! 
 
 
 
 And lang, lang sleek her wounded breast, 
 
 The wild beasts of the forest came, 
 
 
 
 Before she sey another flight, 
 
 Broke from their bughts and faulds the tame, 
 
 
 
 To play wi* the norland lion's might. 
 
 And gOTed around, charmed and amazed ; 
 Even the dull cattle crooned and gazed, 
 
 
 
 But to sing the sights Kilmeny gaw, 
 
 And murmured and looked with anxious pain 
 
 
 
 So far surpassing natures law. \ 
 
 f For something the mystery to explain. 
 
 
 
 
516 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 The buzzard came with the throstle-cock; 
 The corby left her houf in the rock ; 
 The blackbird alang wi' the eagle flew; 
 The hind came tripping o'er the dew; 
 The wolf and the kid their raike began, 
 And the tod, and the lamb, and the leveret 
 
 ran ; 
 The hawk and the hern attour them hung, 
 And the merl and the mavis forhooyed their 
 
 young; 
 And all in a peaceful rmg were hurled: 
 It was like an eve in a sinless world I 
 
 "When a month and a day had come and gans, 
 Kilmeny sought the green-wood wene; 
 There laid her down on the leaves sae green, 
 And Kilmeny on earth was never mair seen. 
 But O, the words that fell from her mouth, 
 Were words of wonder, and words of truth ! 
 But all the land were in fear and dread, 
 For they kendna whether she was living or 
 
 dead. 
 It wasna her hame, and she couldna remain ; 
 She left this world of sorrow and pain, 
 And returned to the land of thought again. 
 
BALLADS 
 
 RELATING TO THE GREAT CIVIL WARS OF THE 
 SEVENTEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 lEfaoHmttfowt. 
 
 [Reprinted from Sir Walter Scott's Minstrelsy 
 of the Scottish Border.] 
 
 c( But, O my country ! how 6hall memory trace 
 Thy glories, lost in either Charles's days, 
 When through thy fields destructive rapine spread, 
 Nor sparing infants' tears, nor hoary head ! 
 In those dread days, the unprotected swain 
 Mourn'd, in the mountains, o'er his wasted plain; 
 Nor longer vocal, with the shepherd's lay, 
 Were Yarrow's banks, or groves of Endermay." 
 
 Langhorne — Genius and Valour. 
 
 Such are the verses, in which a modern bard has 
 painted the desolate state of Scotland, during a 
 period highly unfavourable to poetical composi- 
 tion. Yet the civil and religious wars of the 
 seventeenth century have afforded some subjects 
 for traditionary poetry, and the reader is here 
 presented with the ballads of that disastrous 
 sera. Some prefatory history may not be unac- 
 ceptable. 
 
 That the Reformation was a good and a glori- 
 ous work, few will be such slavish bigots as to 
 deny. But the enemy came, by night, and sowed 
 tares among the wheat ; or rather, the foul and 
 rank soil, upon which the seed was thrown, 
 
 •pushed forth, together with the rising crop, a 
 plentiful proportion of pestilential weeds. The 
 morals of the reformed clergy were severe; their 
 learning was usually respectable, sometimes pro- 
 found ; and their eloquence, though often coarse, 
 was vehement, animated, and popular. But 
 they never could forget, that their rise had been 
 achieved by the degradation, if not the fall, of the 
 crown ; and hence, a body of men, who, in most 
 countries, have been attached to monarchy, were 
 in Scotland, for nearly two centuries, sometimes 
 the avowed enemies, always the ambitious rivals, 
 of their prince. The disciples of Calvin could 
 scarcely avoid a tendency to democracy, and the 
 republican form of church government was some* 
 times hinted at, as no unfit model for the state; 
 at least, the kirkmen laboured to impress, upon 
 their followers and hearers, the fundamental 
 principle, that the church should be solely gov- 
 erned by those, unto whom God had given the 
 spiritual sceptre. The elder Melvine, in a con- 
 ference with James VI., seized the monarch by 
 the sleeve, and, addressing him as " God's sillie 
 vassal," told him, " There are two kings, and two 
 kingdomes. There is Christ, and his kingdome, 
 the kirke ; whose subject King James the Sixth 
 is, and of whose kingdome he is not a king, nor 
 
518 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 a head, nor a lord, but a member ; and they ! 
 whom Christ hath called and commanded to 
 watch ower his kirke, and govern his spiritual 
 kingdome, have sufficient authoritie and power 
 from him so to do ; which no Christian king, no 
 prince, should controul or discharge, but fortifie 
 and assist : otherwise they are not faithful sub- 
 jects to Christ." — Calderrvood, p. 329. The dele- 
 gated theocracy, thus sternly claimed, was exer- 
 cised with equal rigour. The offences in the 
 king's household fell under their unceremonious 
 jurisdiction, and he was formally reminded of his 
 occasional neglect to say grace before and after 
 meat — his repairing to hear the word more rarely 
 than was fitting — his profane banning and swear- 
 ing, and keeping of evil company — and, finally, 
 of his queen's carding, dancing, night-walking, 
 and such like profane pastimes. — Calderrvood, p. 
 313. A curse, direct or implied, waa formally 
 denounced against every man, horse, and spear, 
 who should assist the king in his quarrel with 
 the earl of Gowrie ; and from the pulpit, the 
 favourites of the listening sovereign were likened 
 to Hainan, his wife to Herodias, and he himself 
 to Ahab, to Herod, and to Jeroboam. These 
 effusions of zeal could not be very agreeable to 
 the temper of James: and accordingly, by a 
 course of slow, and often crooked and cunning 
 policy, he laboured to arrange the church-gov- 
 ernment upon a less turbulent and menacing 
 footing. His eyes were naturally turned towards 
 the English hierarchy, which had been modelled, 
 by the despotic Henry VIII., into such a form, 
 as to connect indissolubly the interest of the 
 church with that of the regal power. * The Ke- 
 formation, in England, had originated in the 
 
 » Of this the Covenanters were so sensible, as 
 to trace (what they called) the Antichristian 
 hierarchy, with its idolatry, superstition, and 
 human inventions, " to the prelacy of England, 
 the fountain whence all these Babylonish streams 
 issue unto us." — See their manifesto on entering 
 England, in 1640. 
 
 arbitrary will of the prince; in Scotland, and in 
 all other countries of Europe, it had commenced 
 among insurgents of the lower ranks. Hence, 
 the deep and essential difference which separated 
 the Huguenots, the Lutherans, the Scottish Pres- 
 byterians, and, in fine, all the other reformed 
 churches, from that of England. But James, 
 with a timidity which sometimes supplies the 
 place of prudence, contented himself with gradu- 
 ally imposing upon the Scottish nation a limited 
 and moderate system of episcopacy, which, while 
 it gave to a proportion of the churchmen a seat 
 in the council of the nation, induced them to 
 look up to the sovereign, as the power to whose 
 influence they owed their elevation. But, in 
 other respects, James spared the prejudices of his 
 subjects ; no ceremonial ritual was imposed upon 
 their consciences ; the pastors were reconciled by 
 the prospect of preferment ; f the dress and train 
 of the bishops were plain and decent ; the system 
 of tythes was placed upon a moderate and unop- 
 pressive footing ; J and, perhaps, on the whole, 
 the Scottish hierarchy contained as few objec- 
 tionable points as any system of church -govern- 
 ment in Europe. Had it subsisted to the present 
 day, although its doctrines could not have been 
 more pure, nor its morals more exemplary, than 
 those of the present kirk of Scotland, yet its de- 
 grees of promotion might have afforded greater 
 encouragement tc learning, and objects of Laud- 
 able ambition to those, who might dedicate 
 themselves to its service. But the precipitate 
 
 f Many of the preachers, who had been loudest 
 in the cause of presbytery, were induced to accept 
 of bishoprics. Such was, for example, William 
 Cooper, who was created bishop of Galloway. 
 This recreant Mass John was a hypochondriac, 
 and conceived his lower extremities to be com- 
 posed of glass ; hence, on his court advancement, 
 the following epigram was composed : — 
 
 " Aureus heu! fragilem confregit malleus nrnam." 
 
 % This part of the system was perfected in the 
 reign of Charles I. 
 
BALLADS OS THE CIVIL WAE3. 
 
 519 
 
 bigotry of the unfortunate Charles I. was a blowsfe 
 to episcopacy in Scotland, from which it never 
 ; :overed. 
 
 It has frequently happened, that the virtues of 
 the individual, at least their excess (if, indeed, 
 there can be an excess in virtue,) have been fatal I 
 to the prince. !Sever was this more fully exem- I 
 plified than in the history of Charles I. His zeal 
 for religion, his family affection, the spirit with 
 which he defended his supposed rights, while 
 they do honour to the man, were the fatal shelves 
 upon which the monarchy was wrecked. Impa- 
 tient to accomplish the total revolution, which 
 his father's cautious timidity had left incomplete, 
 Charles endeavoured at once to introduce into 
 Scotland the church-government, and to renew, 
 in England, the temporal domination, of his 
 predecessor, Henry Till. The furious temper of 
 the Scottish nation first took fire ; and the 
 Brandished footstool of a prostitute* gave the 
 signal for civil dissension, which ceased not till 
 the church was buried under the ruins of the 
 constitution j till the nation had stooped to a 
 military despotism; and the monarch to the 
 block of the executioner. 
 
 The consequence of Charles' hasty and arbitrary 
 measures was soon evident. The united nobility, 
 gentry, and clergy of Scotland, entered into the 
 Solium League A>n Covenant, by which mem- 
 orable deed, they subscribed and swore a national 
 renunciation of the hierarchy. The walls of the 
 prelatic Jericho (to use the language of the times) 
 
 * '' Out, false loon! milt thou say the mass at 
 my lug (ear,") was the well-known exclamation 
 of 3Iargaret Geddes, as she discharged her missile 
 tripod against the bishop of Edinburgh, who, in 
 obedience to the orders of the privy -council, was 
 endeavouring to rehearse the common prayer. 
 Upon a seat more elevated, the said Margaret 
 had shortly before done penance, before the con- 
 gregation, for the sin of fornication ; such, at 
 least, is the Tory tradition. — Scott. [Jenny Ged- 
 des, not Margaret, is the name usually bestowed 
 on this heroine. Burns had a favourite mare 
 called after her.] 
 
 were thus levelled with the ground, and the curse 
 of Hiel, the Bethelite, denounced against those 
 who should rebuild them. While the clergy 
 thundered, from the pulpits, against the prelatists 
 and malignants (by which names were distin- 
 guished the scattered and heartless adherents of 
 Charles,) the nobility and gentry, in arms, hur- 
 ried to oppose the march of the English army, 
 which now advanced towards their borders. At 
 the head of their defensive forces they placed 
 Alexander Lesly, who, with many of his best 
 officers, had been trained to war under the great 
 Gtustavus Adolphus. They soon assembled an 
 army of 26,000 men, whose camp, upon Dunse- 
 Law, is thus described by an eye-witness. " Mr 
 Baillie acknowledges, that it was an agreeable 
 feast to his eyes, to survey the place ; it is a round 
 hill, about a Scots mile in circle, rising, with very 
 little declivity, to the height of a bow-shot, and 
 the head somewhat plain, and near a quarter of 
 a mile in length and breadth ; on the top it was 
 garnished with near forty field-pieces, pointed 
 towards the east and south. The colonels, who 
 were mostly noblemen , as Eothes, Cassilis, Egling- 
 ton, Dalhousie, Lindsay, Lowdon, Boyd, Sinclair, 
 Balearras, Elemyng, Kirkcudbright, Erskine, 
 Montgomery, Tester, &c, lay in large tents at 
 the head of their respective regiments ; their cap- 
 tains, who generally were barons, or chief gentle- 
 men, lay around them : next to these were the 
 lieutenancs, who were generally old veterans, and 
 had served in that, or a higher station, over sea ; 
 and the common soldiers lay outmost, all in huts 
 of timber, covered with divot, or straw. Every 
 company, which, according to the first plan, did 
 consist of two hundred men, had their colours 
 flying at the captain's tent door, with the Scots 
 arms upon them, and this motto, in golden let- 
 ters, 'For Christ's Crown and Covenant.'" 
 Against this army, so well arrayed and disciplined, 
 and whose natural hardihood was edged and ex- 
 alted by a high opinion of their sacred cause, 
 Charles marched at the head of a large force, but 
 divided by the emulation of the commanders, 
 
(20 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 and enervated by disuse of arms. A faintness of 
 spirit pervaded the royal army, and the king 
 stooped to a treaty with his Scottish subjects. 
 This treaty was soon broken ; and, in the fol- 
 lowing year, Dunse-Law again presented the 
 same edifying spectacle of a presbyterian army. 
 But the Scots were not contented with remain- 
 ing there. They passed the Tweed ; and the 
 English troops, in a skirmish at Newburn, 
 showed either more disaffection, or cowardice, 
 than had at any former period disgraced their 
 national character. This war was concluded by 
 the treaty of Rippon ; in consequence of which, 
 and of Charles's concessions, made during his 
 subsequent visit to his native country, the Scot- 
 tish parliament congratulated him on departing 
 " a contented king from a contented people." 
 If such content ever existed, it was of short 
 duration. 
 
 The storm, which had been soothed to tempo- 
 rary rest in Scotland, burst forth in England 
 with treble violence. The popular clamour ac- 
 cused Charles, or his ministers, of fetching into 
 Britain the religion of Rome, and the policy of 
 Constantinople. The Scots felt most keenly the 
 first, and the English the second, of these aggres- 
 sions. Accordingly, when the civil war of Eng- 
 land broke forth, the Scots nation, for a time, 
 regarded it in neutrality, though not with in- 
 difference. But, when the successes of a prelatic 
 monarch, against a presbyterian parliament, 
 were paving the way for rebuilding the system of 
 hierarchy, they could no longer remain inactive. 
 Bribed by the delusive promise of Sir Henry 
 Vane, and Marshall, the parliamentary commis- 
 sioners, that the church of England should be 
 reformed, " according to the word of God," 
 which, they fondly believed, amounted to an 
 adoption of presbytery, they agreed to send suc- 
 cours to their brethren of England. Alexander 
 Lesly, who ought to have ranked among the 
 "contented " subjects, having been raised by the 
 king to the honours of Earl of Leven, was, never- 
 theless, readily induced to accept the command 
 
 of this second army. Doubtless, where insurrec- 
 tion is not only pardoned, but rewarded, a 
 monarch has little right to expect gratitude for 
 benefits, which all the world, as well us the re- 
 ceiver, must attribute to fear. Yet something is 
 due to decency ; and the best apology for Lesly, 
 is his zeal for propagating presbyteriani6m in. 
 England, the bait which had caught the whole 
 parliament of Scotland. But, although the Earl 
 of Leven was commander-in-chief, David Lesly, 
 a yet more renowned and active soldier than 
 himself, was major-general of the cavalry, and, 
 in truth, bore away the laurels of the expedition. 
 The words of the following march, which was 
 played in the van of this presbyterian crusade, 
 were first published by Allan Ramsay, in his 
 "Evergreen;" and they breathe the very spirit 
 we might expect. Mr Ritson, in his collection 
 of Scottish songs, has favoured the public with 
 the music, which seems to have been adapted to 
 the bagpipes. 
 
 March ! march ! 
 Why the devil do ye na march? 
 Stand to your arms, my lads, 
 Fight in good order ; 
 Front about, ye musketeers all, 
 Till ye come to the English border: 
 Stand til't, and fight like men, 
 True gospel to maintain. 
 The parliament's blythe to see us a' coming. 
 When to the kirk we come, 
 We'll purge it ilka room, 
 Frae popish reliques, and a' sic innovation, 
 That a' the warld may see, 
 There's nane in the right but we, 
 Of the auld Scottish nation. 
 Jenny shall wear the hood, 
 Jocky the sark of God; 
 And the kist-fou of whistles, 
 That mak' sic a cleiro, 
 Our pipers braw 
 Shall ha'e them a', 
 Whate'er come on it: 
 Busk up your plaids, my lads ! 
 Cock up your bonnets ! 
 Da Capo. 
 
 The hatred of the old presbyterian s to the organ 
 was apparently invincible. It is here vilified 
 with the name of a " chest-full of whistles," as 
 the episcopal chapel at Glasgow was, by the vul- 
 gar, opprobriously termed the " Whistling Kirk." 
 &J,Yet, such is the revolution of sentiment upon 
 
BALLADS ON THE CITIL AVARS. 
 
 521 
 
 this, as upon more important points, that reports 
 have lately been current, of a plan to introduce 
 this noble instrument into presbyterian congre- 
 gations. 
 
 The share, which Lesly's army bore in the 
 action of Marston Moor, has been exalted, or 
 depressed, as writers were attached to the Eng- 
 lish or Scottish nations, to the presbyterian or 
 independent factions. Mr Laing concludes with 
 laudable impartiality, that the victory was equally 
 due to "Cromwell's iron brigade of disciplined 
 independents, and to three regiments of Lesly's 
 horse."— Vol. i. p. 244. 
 
 In the insurrection of 1640, all Scotland, south 
 from the Grampians, was actively and zealously 
 engaged. But, after the treaty of Eippon, the 
 first fury of the revolutionary torrent may be said 
 to have foamed off its force, and many of the 
 nobility began to look round, with horror, upon 
 the rocks and shelves amongst which it had hur- 
 ried them. Numbers regarded the defence of 
 Scotland as a just and necessary warfare, who 
 did not see the same reason for interfering in the 
 affairs of England. The visit of King Charles to 
 the metropolis of his fathers, in all probability, 
 produced its effect on his nobles. Some were 
 allied to the house of Stuart by blood ; all re- 
 garded it as the source of their honours, and 
 venerated the ancient hereditary royal line of 
 Scotland. Many, also, had failed in obtaining 
 the private objects of ambition, or selfish policy, 
 which had induced them to rise up against the 
 crown. Amongst these late penitents, the well- 
 known marquis of Montrose was distinguished 
 as the first who endeavoured to recede from the 
 paths of rude rebellion. Moved by the enthusi- 
 asm of patriotism, or perhaps of religion, but yet 
 more by ambition, the sin of noble minds, Mon- J 
 trr.se had engaged, eagerly and deeply, upon the | 
 side of the covenanters. He had been active in , 
 pressing the town of Aberdeen to take the cove- j 
 nant, and his success against the Gordons, at the 
 bridge of Dee, left that royal burgh no other 
 means of safety from pillage. At the head of his« 
 
 own battalion, he waded through the Tweed, in 
 1640, and totally routed the vanguard of the 
 king's cavalry. But, in 1643, moved with resent- 
 ment against the covenanters, who preferred, to 
 his prompt and ardent character, the caution of 
 the wily and politic earl of Argyle, or seeing, per- 
 haps, that the final views of that party were in- 
 consistent with the interests of monarchy, and of 
 the constitution, Montrose espoused the falling 
 cause of royalty, and raised the Highland clans, 
 whom he united to a small body of Irish, com- 
 manded by Alexander Macdonald, still renowned 
 in the north, under the title of Colkitto. "With 
 these tumultuary and uncertain forces, he rushed 
 forth, like a torrent from the mountains, and 
 commenced a rapid and brilliaut career of vic- 
 tory. At Tippermoor, where he first met the 
 covenanters, their defeat was so effectual, as to 
 appal the presbyterian courage, even after the 
 lapse of eighty years. * A second army was de- 
 
 * Upon the breaking out of the insurrection, 
 in the year 1715, the earl of Eothes, sheriff and 
 lord-lieutenant of the county of Fife, issued out 
 an order for " all the fencible men of the countie 
 to meet him at a place called Cashmoor. The 
 gentlemen took no notice of his orders, nor did 
 the commons, except those whom the ministers 
 forced to go to the place of rendezvouse, to the 
 number of fifteen hundred men, being all that 
 their utmost diligence could perform, Uut those 
 of that countie, having been taught by their ex- 
 perience, that it is not good meddling with edge 
 tools, especiallie in the hands of Highlandmen, 
 were very averse from taking armes. No sooner 
 they reflected on the name of the place of ren- 
 dezvouse, Cashmoor, than Tippermoor was called 
 to mind ; a place not far from thence, where 
 Montrose had routed them, vt hen under the com- 
 mand of my great-grand-uncle, the earl of 
 "VVemyss, then general of Gud's armie. In a 
 word, the unlucky choice of a place, called ' Jloor,' 
 appeared ominous ; and that, with the flying 
 report of the Highlandmen having made them- 
 selves masters of Perth, made them throw down 
 their armes, and run, notwithstanding the trou- 
 ble that Rothes and the ministers gave themselves 
 to stop them." — MS. Memoirs of Lord St Clair. 
 
522 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 feated under the walls of Aberdeen; and the 
 pillage of the ill-fated town wa3 doomed to expi- 
 ate the principles which Montrose himself had 
 formerly imposed upon them, Argyleshire next 
 experienced his arms; the domains of his rival 
 were treated with more than military severity; 
 and Argyle himself, advancing to Inverlochy for 
 the defence of his country, was totally and dis- 
 gracefully routed by Montrose. Pressed betwixt 
 two armies well appointed, and commanded by 
 the most experienced generals of the Covenant, 
 Montrose displayed more military skill in the 
 astonishingly rapid marches, by which he avoided 
 fighting to disadvantage, than even in the field 
 of victory. By one of those hurried marches, 
 from the banks of Loch Katrine to the heart of 
 Inverness-shire, he was enabled to attack, and 
 totally to defeat, the Covenanters, at Aulderne, 
 though he brought into the field hardly one-half 
 of their forces. Baillie, a veteran officer, was 
 next routed by him, at the village of Alford, in 
 Strathbogie. Encouraged by these repeated and 
 splendid successes, Montrose now descended into 
 the heart of Scotland, and fought a bloody and 
 decisive battle, near Kilsyth, where four thou- 
 sand Covenanters fell under the Highland clay- 
 more. 
 
 This victory opened the whole of Scotland to 
 Montrose. He occupied the capital, and marched 
 forward to the border ; not merely to complete 
 the subjection of the southern provinces, but 
 with the flattering hope of pouring his victorious 
 army into England, and bringing to the support 
 of Charles the sword of his paternal tribes. 
 
 Half a century before Montrose's career, the 
 state of the borders was such as might have 
 enabled him easily to have accomplished his 
 daring plan. The marquis of Douglas, the earls 
 of Hume, Roxburgh, Traquair, and Annandale, 
 were all descended of mighty border chiefs, 
 whose ancestors could, each of them, have led 
 into the field a body of their own vassals, equal 
 in numbers, and superior in discipline, to the 
 army of Montrose. But the military spirit of 
 
 & the borderers, and their attachment to their 
 chiefs, had been much broken since the union of 
 the crowns. The disarming acts of James had 
 been carried rigorously into execution, and the 
 smaller proprietors, no longer feeling the neces- 
 sity of protection from their chiefs in war, had 
 aspired to independence, and embraced the tenets 
 of the Covenant. Without imputing, with 
 Wishart, absolute treachery to the border nobles, 
 it may be allowed, that they looked with envy 
 upon Montrose, and with dread and aversion 
 upon his rapacious and disorderly foroes. Hence, 
 had it been in their power, it might not have al- 
 together suited their inclinations, to have brought 
 the strength of the border lances to the support 
 of the northern clans. The once formidable name 
 of Douglas still sufficed to raise some bands, by 
 whom Montrose was joined, in his march down 
 the Gala. With these reinforcements, and with 
 the remnant of his Highlanders (for a great num- 
 ber had returned home with Colkitto, to deposit 
 their plunder, and provide for their families,) 
 Montrose, after traversing the border, finally 
 encamped upon the field of Philiphaugh. 
 
 The river Ettrick, immediately after its junc- 
 tion with the Yarrow, and previous to its falling 
 into the Tweed, makes' a large sweep to the south- 
 ward, and winds almost beneath the lofty bank, 
 on which the town of Selkirk stands ; leaving, 
 upon the northern side, a large and level plain, 
 extending in an easterly direction, from a hill, 
 covered with natural copse-wood, called the Hare- 
 head -wood, to the high ground which forms the 
 banks of the Tweed, near Sunderland-hall. This 
 plain is called Philiphaugh : * it is about a mile 
 and a half in length, and a quarter of a mile 
 broad ; and, being defended, to the northward, 
 by the high hills which separate Tweed from 
 
 * The Scottish language is rich in words, ex- 
 pressive of local situation. The single word 
 haugh, conveys to a Scotsman almost all that I 
 have endeavoured to explain in the text, by cir- 
 jg cumlocutory description. 
 
BALLADS ON THE CIVIL WARS. 
 
 523 
 
 Yarrow, by the river in front, and by the high 
 grounds, already mentioned, on each flank, it 
 forms, at once, a convenient and a secure field of 
 encampment. On each flank Montrose threw up 
 some trenches, which are still visible ; and here 
 he posted his infantry, amounting to about 
 twelve or fifteen hundred men. He himself took 
 up his quarters in the burgh of Selkirk, and, with 
 him, the cavalry, in number hardly one thousand, 
 but respectable, as being chiefly composed of 
 gentlemen, and their immediate retainers. In 
 this manner, by a fatal and unaccountable error, 
 the river Ettrick was thrown betwixt the cavalry 
 and infantry, which were to depend upon each 
 other for intelligence and mutual support. But 
 this might be overlooked by Montrose, in the 
 conviction, that there was no armed enemy of 
 Charles in the realm of Scotland ; for he is said 
 to have employed the night in writing and dis- 
 patching this agreeable intelligence to the king. 
 Such an enemy was already within four miles of 
 his camp. 
 
 Recalled by the danger of the cause of the 
 Covenant, General David Lesly came down from 
 England, at the head of those iron squadrons, 
 whose force had been proved in the fatal battle 
 of Long Marston Moor. His army consisted of 
 from five to six thousand men, chiefly cavalry. 
 Lesly's first plan seems to have been, to occupy 
 the mid-land counties, so as to intercept the re- 
 turn of Montrose's Highlanders, and to force him 
 to an unequal combat. Accordingly, he marched 
 along the eastern coast, from Berwick to Tranent : 
 but there he suddenly altered his direction, and, 
 crossing through Mid-Lothian, turned again to 
 the southward, and, following the course of Gala 
 water, arrived at Melrose, the evening before the 
 engagement. How it is possible that Montrose 
 should have received no notice whatever of the 
 march of so considerable an army, seems almost 
 inconceivable, and proves, that the country was 
 strongly disaffected to his cause, or person. Still 
 more extraordinary does it appear, that, even 
 with the advantage of a thick mist, Lesly should 
 
 have, the next morning, advanced toward Mon- 
 trose's encampment, without being descried by a 
 single scout. Such, however, was the case, and 
 it was attended with all the consequences of the 
 most complete surprisal. The first intimation 
 that Montrose received of the march of Lesly, 
 was the noise of the conflict, or, rather, that 
 which attended the unresisted slaughter of his 
 infantry, who never formed a line of battle : the 
 right wing alone, supported by the thickets of 
 Harehead-wood, and by the entrenchments, 
 which are there still visible, stood firm for some 
 time. But Lesly had detached two thousand men 
 who, crossing the Ettrick still higher up than his 
 main body, assaulted the rear of Montrose's right 
 wing. At this moment, the marquis himself ar- 
 rived, and beheld his army dispersed, for the first 
 time, in irretrievable rout. He had thrown him- 
 self upon a horse the instant he heard the firing, 
 and, followed by such of his disorderly cavalry, 
 as had gathered upon the alarm, he galloped from 
 Selkirk, crossed the Ettrick, and made a bold and 
 desperate attempt to retrieve the fortune of the 
 day. But all was in vain ; and, after cutting his 
 way, almost singly, through a body of Lesly's 
 troopers, the gallant Montrose graced by his ex- 
 ample the retreat of the fugitives. That retreat 
 he continued up Yarrow, and over Minch-moor; 
 nor did he stop till he arrived at Traquair, six- 
 teen miles from the field of battle. Upon Philip- 
 haugh he lost, in one defeat, the fruit of six 
 splendid victories : nor was he again able effectu- 
 ally to make head, in Scotland, against the cove- 
 nanted cause. The number slain in the field did 
 not exceed three or four hundred ; for the fugi- 
 tives found refuge in the mountains, which had 
 often been the retreat of vanquished armies, and 
 were impervious to the pursuer's cavalry. Lesly 
 abused his victory, and dishonoured his arms, by 
 slaughtering, in cold blood, many of the prisoners 
 whom he had taken ; and the court-yard of 
 Newark castle is said to have been the spot, upon 
 which they were shot by his command. Many 
 others are said, by Wishart, to have been preci- 
 
o24 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 pitated from a high bridge over the Tweed. This, 
 as Mr Laing remarks, is impossible ; because 
 there was not a bridge over the Tweed betwixt 
 Peebles and Berwick. But there is an old bridge 
 over the Ettrick, only four miles from Philip, 
 haugh, and another over the Yarrow, both of 
 which lay in the very line of flight and pursuit ; 
 and either might have been the scene of the 
 massacre. But if this is doubtful, it is too cer- 
 tain, that several of the royalists were executed 
 by the Covenanters, as traitors to the king and 
 parliament. * 
 
 I have reviewed, at some length, the details of 
 this memorable engagement, which, at the same 
 time, terminated the career of a hero, likened, 
 by no mean judge of mankind, f to those of anti- 
 quity, and decided the fate of his country. It is 
 further remarkable, as the last field which was 
 fought in Ettrick forest, the scene of so many 
 bloody actions. The unaccountable neglect of 
 patroles, and the imprudent separation betwixt 
 the horse and foot, seem to have been the imme- 
 diate causes of Montrose's defeat. But the ardent 
 and impetuous character of this great warrior, 
 corresponding with that of the troops which he 
 commanded, was better calculated for attack 
 than defence ; for surprising others, rather than 
 for providing against surprise himself. Thus, he 
 suffered loss by a sudden attack upon part of his 
 forces, stationed at Aberdeen ; t and, had he not 
 
 * A covenanted minister, present at the exe- 
 cution of these gentlemen, observed, " This wark 
 gaes bonnilie on ! " an amiable exclamation, 
 equivalent to the modern " £a ira," so often used 
 on similar occasions. — Wishart's Memoirs of Mon- 
 trose. 
 
 f Cardinal du Retz. 
 
 % Colonel Hurry, with a party of horse, sur- 
 prised the town, while Montrose's Highlanders 
 and cavaliers were " dispersed through the town, 
 drinking carelessly in their lodgings ; and, hear- 
 ing the horses' feet, and great noise, were aston- 
 ished, never dreaming of their enemy. However, 
 Donald Farquharson happened to come to the 
 causey, where he was cruelly slain, anent the 
 
 ^extricated himself with the most singular ability, 
 he must have lost his whole army, when sur- 
 prised by Baillie, during the plunder of Dundee. 
 Nor has it escaped an ingenious modern historian, 
 that his final defeat at Dunbeat so nearly resem- 
 bles in its circumstances the surprise at Philip- 
 haugh, as to throw some shade on his military 
 talents. — Laing's History. 
 
 The following ballad, which is preserved by 
 tradition in Selkirkshire, coincides accurately 
 with historical fact. This, indeed, constitutes its 
 sole merit. The Covenanters were not, I dare 
 say, addicted more than their successors, "to 
 the profane and unprofitable art of poem-mak- 
 ing."! still > however, they could not refrain 
 from some strains of exultation, over the defeat 
 of the truculent tyrant, James Grahame. For, 
 gentle reader, Montrose, who, with resources 
 which seemed as none, gained six victories, and 
 reconquered a kingdom ; who, a poet, a scholar, 
 
 Court de Guard ; a brave gentleman, and one of 
 the noblest captains amongst all the Highlanders 
 of Scotland. Two or three others were killed, 
 and some (taken prisoners) had to Edinburgh, 
 and cast into irons in the tolbooth. Great lam- 
 entation was made for this gallant, being still 
 the king's man for life and death." — Spalding, 
 vol. ii. p. 281. The journalist, to whom all mat- 
 ters were of equal importance, proceeds to inform 
 us, that Hurry took the marquis of Huntly's best 
 horse, and, in his retreat through Montrose, 
 seized upon the marquis's second son. He also 
 expresses his regret, that "the said Donald Far- 
 quharson 's body was found in the street, stripped 
 naked : for they tirr'd from off his body a rich 
 stand of apparel, but put on the same day."— 
 Ibid. 
 
 § So little was the spirit of illiberal fanaticism 
 decayed in some parts of Scotland, that so late 
 as the year 1767, when Wilson, the ingenious 
 author of a poem called "Clyde," now repub- 
 lished, was inducted into the office of schoolmas- 
 ter at Greenock, he was obliged formally, and in 
 writing, to abjure the "profane and unprofita- 
 ble art of poem-making." It is proper to add, 
 that such an incident is now as unlikely to hap- 
 pen in Greenock as in London. 
 
BALLADS ON THE CIVIL WARS. 
 
 525 
 
 a cavalier, and a general, could have graced alike 
 a court, and governed a camp ; * this Montrose 
 was numbered, by his covenanted countrymen, 
 among "the troublers of Israel, the fire-brands 
 of hell, the Corahs, the Balaams, the Doegs, the 
 Kabshakahs, the Hamans, the Tobiahs, and San- 
 ballatsof the time." 
 
 ®&>* Mutth off f>MMjp!>Mg!« 
 
 On Philiphaugh a fray began, 
 At Hairhead wood it ended ; 
 
 The Scots out o'er the Grames they ran, 
 Sae merrily they bended. 
 
 Sir David frae the border came, 
 Wi' heart an' hand came he; 
 
 Wi' him three thousand bonnie Scots, 
 To bear him company. 
 
 "Wi' him three thousand valiant men, 
 
 A noble sight to see ! 
 A cloud o' mist them weel concealed, 
 
 As close as e'er might be. 
 
 When they came to the Shaw burn, f 
 Said he, " Sae weel we frame, 
 
 I think it is convenient, 
 
 That we should sing a psalm." % 
 
 When they came to the Lingly burn, § 
 
 As day-light did appear, 
 They spy'd an aged father, || 
 
 And he did draw them near. 
 
 * [Sir Walter's well-known predilections for 
 Montrose and his party will, of course, warn the 
 reader to take his estimate of that hero's conduct 
 and character cum grano salis.~\ 
 
 f A small stream, that joins the Ettrick, near 
 Selkirk, on the south side of the river. — Scott. 
 
 $ Various reading ; — 
 
 " That we should take a dram." — Scott. 
 
 § A brook, which falls into the Ettrick, from 
 the north, a little above the Shaw burn. — Scott. 
 
 || The traditional commentary upon the ballad 
 states this man's name to have been Brydone, 
 
 1 Come hither, aged father ! " 
 
 Sir David he did cry, 
 1 And tell me where Montrose lies, 
 
 With all his great army. 
 
 ' But, first, you must come tell to me, 
 If friends or foes you be ; 
 fear you are Montrose's men, 
 Come frae the north country." 
 
 ancestor to several families in the parish of Et- 
 
 J trick, particularly those occupying the farms of 
 
 Midgehope and Redford Green. It is a strange 
 
 I anachronism, to make this aged father state him- 
 
 | self at the battle of "Solway flow," which was 
 
 fought a hundred years before Philiphaugh ; and 
 
 a still stranger, to mention that of Dunbar, 
 
 which did not take place till five years after 
 
 Montrose's defeat. 
 
 A tradition, annexed to a copy of this ballad, 
 transmitted to me by Mr James Hogg, bears, 
 that the earl of Traquair, on the day of the bat- 
 tle, was advancing with a large sum of money 
 for the payment of Montrose's forces, attended 
 by a blacksmith, one of his retainers. As they 
 crossed Minch-moor, they were alarmed by firing, 
 which the earl conceived to be Montrose exercis- 
 ing his forces, but which his attendant, from the 
 constancy and irregularity of the noise, affirmed 
 to be the tumult of an engagement. As they 
 came below Broadmeadows, upon Yarrow, they 
 met their fugitive friends, hotly pursued by the 
 parliamentary troopers. The earl, of course, 
 turned, and fled also: but his horse, jaded with 
 the weight of dollars which he carried, refused to 
 take the hill ; so that the earl was fain to ex- 
 change with his attendant, leaving him with the 
 breathless horse, and bag of silver, to shift for 
 himself; which he is supposed to have done very 
 effectually. Some of the dragoons, attracted by 
 the appearance of the horse and trappings, gave 
 chase to the smith, who fled up the Yarrow ; but 
 finding himself, as he said, encumbered with the 
 treasure, and unwilling that it should be taken, 
 he flung it into a well, or pond, near the Tinnies, 
 above Hangingshaw. Many wells were after- 
 wards searched in vain ; but it is the general 
 belief, that the smith, if he ever hid the money, 
 knew too well how to anticipate the scrutiny. 
 II There is, however, a pond, which some peasants 
 began to drain, not long ago, in hopes of finding 
 1 1 the golden prize, but were prevented, as they 
 s£ pretended, by supernatural interference.— Scott. 
 

 
 
 
 526 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 " No, we are nane o' Montrose's men, { 
 
 ^ The nether party fired brisk 
 
 
 
 Nor e'er intend to be ; 
 
 Then turn'd and seem'd to rfn ; 
 
 
 
 I am Sir David Lesly, 
 
 And then they a' came frae the trench. 
 
 
 
 That's speaking unto thee." 
 
 And cry'd, " The day's our ain !" 
 
 
 
 "If you're Sir David Lesly, 
 
 The rest then ran into the trench, 
 
 
 
 As I think weel ye be, 
 
 And loos'd their cannons a' : 
 
 
 
 I'm sorry ye ha'e brought so few 
 
 And thus, between his armies twa, 
 
 
 
 Into your company. 
 
 He made them fast to fa'. 
 
 
 
 " There's fifteen thousand armed men, 
 
 Now, let us a' for Lesly pray, 
 
 
 
 Encamped on yon lee ; 
 
 And his brave company! 
 
 
 
 Ye'll never be a bite to them, 
 
 For they ha'e vanquish'd great Montrose, 
 
 
 
 For aught that I can see. 
 
 Our cruel enemy. 
 
 
 
 " But, halve your men in equal parts, 
 
 
 
 
 Your purpose to fulfil ; 
 
 
 
 
 
 Let ae half keep the water side, 
 
 
 
 
 The rest gae round the hill. 
 
 
 
 
 " Your nether party fire must, 
 
 ®Jk ©allait tf&ica|)amjs. 
 
 
 
 Then beat a flying drum ; 
 
 
 
 
 And then they'll think the day's their ain, 
 
 [" The preceding ballad," says Sir "Walter 
 
 
 
 And frae the trench they'll come. 
 
 Scott, " was a song of triumph over the defeat of 
 Montrose at Philiphaugh; the verses, which fol- 
 
 
 
 "Then, those that are behind them maun 
 
 low, are a lamentation for his final discomfiture 
 
 
 
 Gi'e shot, baith grit and sma' ; 
 
 and cruel death. The present edition of ' The 
 
 
 
 And so, between your armies twa, 
 
 Gallant Grahams ' is given from tradition, en- 
 
 
 
 Ye may make them to fa'." 
 
 larged and corrected by an ancient printed edi- 
 tion, entitled, ' The Gallant Grahams of Scot- 
 
 
 
 " were ye ever a soldier ?" 
 
 land,' to the tune of ' I will away, and 1 will nat 
 
 
 
 Sir David Lesly said ; 
 
 tarry,' of which Mr Ritson favoured the editor 
 
 
 
 " yes ; I was at Sol way flow, 
 
 with an accurate copy. 
 
 
 
 "Where we were all betray'd. 
 
 " The conclusion of Montrose's melancholy his- 
 tory is too well known. The Scottish army, 
 
 
 
 "Again I was at curst Dunbar, 
 
 which sold king Charles I. to his parliament, had, 
 
 
 
 And was a pris'ner ta'en : 
 
 we may charitably hope, no idea that they were 
 
 
 
 And many weary night and day, 
 
 bartering his blood; although they must have 
 
 
 
 In prison I ha'e lien." 
 
 been aware, that they were consigning him to 
 perpetual bondage. * At least the sentiments of 
 
 
 
 " If ye will lead these men aright, 
 
 the kingdom at large differed widely from those 
 
 
 
 Rewarded shall ye be ; 
 
 of the military merchants, and the danger of 
 
 
 
 But, if that ye a traitor prove, 
 
 king Charles drew into England a well-appointed 
 
 
 
 I'll hang thee on a tree." 
 
 Scottish army, under the command of the duke 
 of Hamilton. But he met with Cromwell, and 
 
 
 
 " Sir, I will not a traitor prove 
 
 to meet with Cromwell was inevitable defeat. 
 
 
 
 Montrose has plundered me ; 
 
 The death of Charles, and the triumph of the In- 
 
 
 
 I'll do my best to banish him 
 
 dependents, excited still more highly the hatred 
 
 
 
 Away frae this country 
 
 and the fears of the Scottish nation. The out- 
 witted Presbyterians, who saw, too late, that 
 
 
 
 He halv'd his men in equal parts, 
 
 His purpose to fulfil ; 
 The one part kept the water side, 
 
 
 
 
 « "As Salmasius quaintly, but truly, expresses it, 
 ' Presbyteriani ligaverunt, independantes trucidave- 
 
 
 
 The other gaed round the hilL fi 
 
 i runt." " 
 
 
 
 
BALLADS OX THE CIVIL WAE3. 
 
 527 
 
 their own hands had been employed in. the hate- $s 
 {hi task of erecting the power of a sect, yet more 
 fierce and fanatical than themselves, deputed a 
 commission to the Hague, to treat with Charles 
 II., whom, upon certain conditions, they now 
 wished to restore to the throne of his fathers. At 
 the court of the exiled monarch, Montrose also | 
 offered to his acceptance a splendid plan of vie- j 
 tory and conquest, and pressed lor his permission 
 to enter Scotland; and there, collecting the re- 
 mains of the royalists, to claim the crown for his 
 master, with the sword in his hand. An able 
 statesman might perhaps have reconciled these 
 jarring projects ; a good man would certainly | 
 have made a decided choice betwixt tiiem. Charles 
 was neither the one nor the other ; and, while 
 he treated with the Presbyterians, with a view of 
 accepting the crown from their hands, he scru- 
 pled not to authorise Montrose, the mortal enemy 
 of the sect, to pursue his separate and inconsist- ; 
 ent plan of conquest. 
 
 "Montrose arrived in the Orkneys with six 
 hundred Germans, was furnished with some re- ; 
 emits from those islands, and was joined by | 
 several royalists, as he traversed the wilds of 
 Caithness and Sutherland ; but, advancing into ; 
 Eoss-shire, he was surprised, and totally defeated, , 
 by colonel Strachan, an officer of the Scottish 
 parliament, who had distinguished himself in the 
 civil wars, and who afterwards became a decided 
 Cromwellian. Montrose, after a fruitless resist- 
 ance, at length fled from the field of defeat, and ■ 
 concealed himself in the grounds of Macleod of I 
 Assaint, to whose fidelity he entrusted his life, 
 and by whom he was delivered up to Lesly, his 1 
 most bitter enemy. 
 
 " He was tried for what was termed treason | 
 against the estates of the kingdom j and, despite j 
 the commission of Charles for hi3 proceedings, < 
 he was condemned to die by a parliament, who ; 
 acknowledged Charles to be their king, and ! 
 whom, on that account only, Montrose acknow- ' 
 ledged to be a parliament. 
 
 " ' The clergy,' says a late animated historian, ! 
 * whose vocation it was to persecute the repose of , 
 his last moments, sought, by the terrors of his 
 sentence, to extort repentance ; but his behav- j 
 iour, firm and dignified to the end, repelled their 
 iusulting advances with scorn and disdain. He ' 
 was prouder, he replied, to haye his head affixed j 
 to the prison-walls, than to have his picture j 
 placed in the king 's bed-chamber: "and, far from I 
 being troubled that my limbs are to be sent to i 
 your principal cities, I wish I had flesh enough $ 
 
 to be dispersed through Christendom, to attest 
 my dying attachment to my king." It was the 
 calm employment of his mind, that night, to re- 
 duce this extravagant sentiment to verse. He 
 appeared next day on the scaffold, in a rich habit, 
 with the same serene and undaunted counte- 
 nance, and addressed the people, to vindicate his 
 dying unabsolved by the church, rather than to 
 justify an invasion of the kingdom, during a 
 treaty with the estates. The insults of his ene- 
 mies were not yet exhausted. The history of his 
 exploits was attached to his neck by the public 
 executioner; but he smiled at their inventive 
 malice; declared, that he wore it with more 
 pride than he had done the garter ; and, when 
 his devotions were finished, demanding if any 
 more indignities remained to be practised, sub- 
 mitted calmly to an unmerited fate.' — Laing's 
 History of Scotland, vol. i. p. 404. 
 
 "'Such was the death of James Graham, the 
 great marquis of Montrose, over whom some 
 lowly bard has poured forth the following elegiac 
 verses. To say, that they are far unworthy of 
 the subject, is no great reproach ; for a nobler 
 poet might have failed in the attempt. Indiffer- 
 ent as the ballad is, we may regret its being still 
 more degraded by many apparent corruptions. 
 There seems an attempt to trace Montrose's 
 career, from his first raising the royal standard, 
 to his second expedition and death ; but it is in- 
 terrupted and imperfect. From the concluding 
 stanza, I presume the song was composed upon 
 the arrival of Charles in Scotland, which so 
 speedily followed the execution of Montrose, that 
 the king entered the city while the head of his 
 most faithful and most successful adherent was 
 still blackening in the sun."] 
 
 Now, fare thee well, sweet Ennerdale '. * 
 Baith kith and countrie I bid adieu ; 
 
 For I maun away, and I may not stay, 
 
 To some uncouth land which I never knew. 
 
 To wear the blue I think it best, 
 
 Of all the colours that I see ; 
 And I'll wear it for the gallant Grahams, 
 
 That are banished from their countrie. 
 
 * A. corruption of Endrickdale. The principal 
 and most ancient possessions of the Montrose 
 family lie along the water of Endrick, in Dum- 
 bartonshire. — Scott. 
 
528 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 I have no gold, I have no land, 
 
 1 have no pearl nor precious stane ; 
 
 But I wald sell my silken snood, 
 
 To see the gallant Grahams come hame. 
 
 In "Wallace' days, when they began, 
 
 Sir John the Graham did bear the gree * 
 
 Through all the lands of Scotland wide ; 
 He was a lord of the south countrie. 
 
 And so was seen full many a time; 
 
 For the summer flowers did never spring, 
 But every Graham, in armour bright, 
 
 "Would then appear before the king. 
 
 They all were drest in armour sheen, 
 Upon the pleasant banks of Tay ; 
 
 Before a king they might be seen, 
 
 These gallant Grahams in their array. 
 
 At the Goukhead our camp we set, 
 Our leaguer down there for to lay; 
 
 And, in the bonnie summer light, 
 
 We rode our white horse and our gray. 
 
 Our false commander sold our king 
 
 Unto his deadly enemie, 
 "Who was the traitor, Cromwell, f then ; 
 
 So I care not what they do with me. 
 
 * The faithful friend and adherent of the im- 
 mortal Wallace, slain at the battle of Falkirk.— 
 Scott. 
 
 f This extraordinary character, to whom, in 
 crimes and in success, our days only have pro- 
 duced a parallel, * was no favourite in Scotland. 
 There occurs the following invective against him, 
 in a MS. in the Advocates' Library. The humour 
 consists in the dialect of a Highlander, speaking 
 English, and confusing Cromwell with Gramach, 
 ugly :— 
 
 Te commonwelt, tat Gramagh ting, 
 
 Gar brek hem's word, gar de hem's king; 
 
 Gar pay hem's sesse, or take hem's (geers) 
 
 We'l no de at, del come de leers ; 
 
 "We'l bide a file amang te crowes, (i. e. in the wood.-) 
 
 We'l scor te sword, and whUke te bowes ; 
 
 And fen her nen-sel se te re, (the king) 
 
 To del my care for Gromaghee. 
 
 * [Sir Waller here alludes to Napoleon, who, at the 
 time these Notes were written, was an object of dread 
 and hatred to the legitimists of Europe.] 
 
 They have betrayed our noble prince, 
 
 And banish'd him from his royal crown ; 
 
 But the gallant Grahams have ta'en In hand, 
 For to command those traitors down 
 
 The following tradition, concerning Cromwell, 
 is preserved by an uncommonly direct line of 
 traditional evidence ; being narrated (as I am 
 informed) by the grandson of an eye-witness. 
 When Cromwell, in 1650, entered Glasgow, he 
 attended divine service in the high church : but 
 the Presbyterian divine, who officiated, poured 
 forth, with more zeal than prudence, the vial of 
 his indignation upon the person, principles, and 
 cause, of the independent general. One of Crom- 
 well's officers rose, and whispered his com- 
 mander; who seemed to give him a short and 
 stern answer, and the sermon was concluded 
 without interruption. Among the crowd, who 
 were assembled to gaze at the general, as he came 
 out of the church, was a shoemaker, the son of 
 one of James the Sixth's Scottish footmen. This 
 man had been born and bred in England, but, 
 after his father's death, had settled in Glasgow. 
 Cromwell eyed him among the crowd, and im- 
 mediately called him by his name — the man fled : 
 but, at Cromwell's command, one of his retinue 
 followed him, and brought him to the general's 
 lodgings. A number of the inhabitants re- 
 mained at the door, waiting the end of this ex- 
 traordinary scene. The shoemaker soon came 
 out, in high spirits, and, showing some gold, 
 declared, he was going to drink Cromwell's 
 health. Many attended him to hear the parti- 
 culars of his interview; among others the grand- 
 father of the narrator. The shoemaker said, that 
 he had been a playfellow of Cromwell, when they 
 were both boys, their parents residing in the 
 same street ; that he had fled, when the general 
 first called to him, thinking he might owe him 
 some ill-will, on account of his father being in 
 the service of the royal family. He added, that 
 Cromwell had been so very kind and familiar with 
 him, that he ventured to ask him, what the offi- 
 cer had said to him in the church. " He pro- 
 posed," said Cromwell, "to pull forth the min- 
 ister by the ears; and I answered, that the 
 preacher was one fool and he another." In the 
 course of the day, Cromwell held an interview 
 with the minister, and contrived to satisfy his 
 scruples so effectually, that the evening discourse, 
 by the same man, was tuned to the praise and 
 W glory of the victor of Naseby. — Scott. 
 
BALLADS ON THE CIVIL "VVAES. 
 
 529 
 
 In Glen-Pro3en * wa rendezvoused, 
 
 March'd to Glenshie by night and day, 
 
 And took the town of Aberdeen, 
 
 And met the Campbells in their array. 
 
 Five thousand men, in armour strong, 
 Did meet the gallant Grahams that day 
 
 At Inverlochie, where war began, 
 
 And scarce two thousand men were they. 
 
 Gallant Montrose, that chieftain bold, 
 
 Courageous in the best degree, 
 Did for the king fight well that day ; 
 
 The lord preserve his majestie. 
 
 Nathaniel Gordon, stout and bold, 
 Did for king Charles wear the blue ; t 
 
 * Glen-Prosen, in Angus-shire.— Scott. 
 
 f This gentleman was of the ancient family of 
 Gordon of Gight. He had served, as a soldier, 
 upon the continent, and acquired great military 
 skill. "When his chief, the marquis of Huntly, 
 took up arms in 1640, Nathaniel Gordon, then 
 called Major Gordon, joined him, and was of 
 essential service during that short insurrection. 
 But, being checked for making prize of a Danish 
 fishing buss, he left the service of the marquis, in 
 some disgust. In 1644, he assisted at a sharp 
 and dexterous camisade (as it was then called,) 
 when the barons of Haddo, of Gight, of Drum, 
 and other gentlemen, with only sixty men under 
 their standard, galloped through the old town of 
 Aberdeen, and, entering the burgh itself, about 
 seven in the morning, made prisoners, and car- 
 ried off, four of the covenanting magistrates, and 
 effected a safe retreat, though the town was then 
 under the domination of the opposite party. 
 After the death of the baron of Haddo, and the 
 severe treatment of Sir George Gordon of Gight, 
 his cousin-german, Major Nathaniel Gordon 
 seems to have taken arms, in despair of finding 
 mercy at the covenanters' hands. On the 24th 
 of July, 1645, he came down, with a band of 
 horsemen, upon the town of Elgin, while St 
 James' fair was held, and pillaged the merchants 
 of 14,000 merks of money and merchandize. He 
 seems to have joined Montrose, as soon as he 
 raised the royal standard ; and, as a bold and 
 active partizan, rendered him great service. But, 
 in November 1614, Gordon, now a colonel, sud- 
 denly deseted Montrose, aided the escape of 
 Forbes of Craigievar, one of his prisoners, and 3ft 
 
 it the cavaliers they all were sold, 
 And brave Harthill, a cavalier too. $ 
 
 reconciled himself to the kirk, by doing penance 
 for adultery, and for the almost equally heinous 
 crime of having scared Mr. Andrew Cant, the 
 famous apostle of the covenant. This, however, 
 seems to have been an artifice, to arrange a cor- 
 respondence betwixt Montrose and Lord Gordon, 
 a gallant young nobleman, representative of the 
 Huntly family, and inheriting their loyal spirit, 
 though hitherto engaged in the service of the 
 covenant. Colonel Gordon was successful, and 
 returned to the royal camp with his converted 
 chief. Both followed zealously the fortunes of 
 Montrose, until Lord Gordon fell in the battle of 
 Alford, and Nathaniel Gordon was taken at 
 Philiphaugh. He was one of ten loyalists, de- 
 voted upon that occasion, by the parliament, to 
 expiate with their blood the crime of fidelity to 
 their king. Nevertheless, the covenanted nobles 
 would have probably been satisfied with the death 
 of the gallant Bollock, sharer of Montrose's dan- 
 gers and glory, of Ogilvy, a youth of eighteen, 
 whose crime was the hereditary feud betwixt his 
 family and Argyle, and of Sir Philip Nisbet, a 
 cavalier of the ancient stamp, had not the pul- 
 pits resounded with the cry, that God required 
 the blood of the malignants, to expiate the sins 
 of the people. " What meaneth," exclaimed the 
 ministers, in the perverted language of scripture 
 — " What meaneth, then, this bleating of the 
 sheep in my ears, and the lowing of the oxen ?" 
 The appeal to the judgment of Samuel was de- 
 cisive, and the shambles were instantly opened. 
 Nathaniel Gordon was brought first to execution. 
 He lamented the sins of his youth, once more 
 (and probably with greater sincerity) requested 
 absolution from the sentence of excommunication 
 pronounced on account of adultery, and was be- 
 headed 6th January, 1646.— Scott. 
 
 % Leith, of Harthill, was a determined loyalist, 
 and hated the covenanters, not without reason. 
 His father, a haughty high-spirited baron, and 
 chief of a clan, happened, in 1639, to sit down in 
 the desk of Provost Lesly, in the high kirk of 
 Aberdeen. He was disgracefully thrust out by 
 the officers, and, using some threatening language 
 to the provost, was imprisoned, like a felon, for 
 many months, till he became furious, and nearly 
 mad. Having got free of the shackles, with 
 which he was loaded, he used his liberty by com- 
 ing to the tolbooth window, where he uttered 
 
530 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 And Newton Gordon, burd-alone, * 
 And Dalgatie, both stout and keen, \ 
 
 And gallant Veiteh upon the field, $ 
 A braver face was never seen. 
 
 the most violent and horrible threats against 
 provost Lesly, and the other covenanting magis- 
 trates, by whom he had been so severely treated. 
 Under pretence of this new offence, he was sent 
 to Edinburgh, and lay long in prison there; for, 
 so fierce was his temper, that no one would give 
 surety for his keeping the peace with his enemies, 
 if set at liberty. At length he was delivered by 
 Montrose, when he made himself master of Edin- 
 burgh.— Spa/ding, vol. i. pp. 201, 266. His house 
 of Harthill was dismantled, and miserably pil- 
 laged by Forbes of Craigievar, who expelled his 
 wife and children, with the most relentless inhu- 
 manity. — Ibid. vol. ii. p. 225. Meanwhile, young 
 Harthill was the companion and associate of 
 Nathaniel Gordon, whom he accompanied at 
 plundering the fair of Elgin, and at most of 
 Montrose's engagements. He retaliated severely 
 on the covenanters, by ravaging and burning 
 their lands. — Ibid. vol. ii. p. 301. His fate has 
 escaped my notice. — Scott. 
 
 * Newton, for obvious reasons, was a common 
 appellation of an estate, or barony, where a new 
 edifice had been erected. Hence, for distinction's 
 sake, it was anciently compounded with the 
 name of the proprietor; as, Newton-Edmon- 
 stone, Newton-Don, Newton-Gordon, &c. Of 
 Gordon of Aew-town, I only observe, that he 
 was, like all his clan, a steady loyalist, and a fol- 
 lower of Montrose. — Scott. 
 
 f Sir Francis Hay, of Dalgatie, a steady cava- 
 lier, and a gentleman of great gallantry and 
 accomplishment. He was a faithful follower of 
 Montrose, and was taken prisoner with him at 
 his last fatal battle. He was condemned to 
 death, with his illustrious general. Being a Ro- 
 man Catholic, he refused the assistance of the 
 Presbyterian clergy, and was not permitted, even 
 on the scaff dd, to receive ghostly comfort, in the 
 only form in which his religion taught him to 
 consider it as effectual. He kissed the axe, 
 avowed his fidelity to his sovereign, and died like 
 a soldier. — Montrose's Memoirs, p. 322. — Scott. 
 
 $ I presume this gentleman to have been David 
 Veiteh, brother to Veiteh of Dawick, who, with 
 many other of the Peebles-shire gentry, was taken 
 at Philiphaugh. The following curious accident 
 took place, some years afterwards, in consequence <, 
 
 Now, fare ye weel, sweet Ennerdale ! 
 
 Countrie and kin I quit ye free ; 
 Chear up your hearts, brave cavaliers, 
 
 For the Grahams are gone to high Germany 
 
 Now brave Montrose he went to France, 
 And to Germany, to gather fame ; 
 
 And bold Aboyne is to the sea, § 
 Young Huntly is his noble name. 
 
 of his loyal zeal :— "In the year 1653, when the 
 loyal party did arise in arms against the English, 
 in the North and West Highlands, some noble- 
 men, and loyal gentlemen, with others, were 
 forward to repair to them, with such forces as 
 they could make; which the English with mar- 
 velouse diligence, night and day, did bestir them- 
 selves to impede ; making their troops of horse 
 and dragoons to pursue the loyal party in all 
 places, that they might not come to such a con 
 siderable number as was designed. It happened, 
 one night, that one Captain Masoun, commander 
 of a troop of dragoons, that came from Carlisle, 
 in England, marching through the town of San- 
 quhar, in the night, was encountered by one 
 Captain Palmer, commanding a troop of horse, 
 that came from Ayr, marching eastward ; and, 
 meeting at the tollhouse, or tolbooth, one David 
 Veiteh, brother to the laird of Dawick, in Tweed- 
 dale, and one of the loyal party, being prisoner 
 in irons by the English, did arise, and came to 
 the window at their n.eeting, and cryed out, 
 that they should fight valiantly for King Charles. 
 Where-through, they, taking each other for the 
 loyal party, did begin a brisk fight, which con- 
 tinued for a while, till the dragoons, having spent 
 their shot, and finding the horsemen to be too 
 strong for them, did give ground : but yet retired, 
 in some order, towards the castle of Sanquhar, 
 being hotly pursued by the troop, through the 
 whole town, above a quarter of a mile, till they 
 came to the castle ; where both parties did, to 
 their mutual grief, become sensible of their mis- 
 take. In this skirmish there were several killed 
 on both sides, and captain Palmer himself dan- 
 gerously wounded, with many more wounded in 
 each troop, who did peaceably dwell together 
 afterward for a time, until their wounds were 
 cured, in Sanquhar castle." — Account of Presby- 
 tery of Penpont, in Mucfarlane's MSS. — Scott. 
 
 § James, earl of Aboyne, who fled to France, 
 and there d:'ed heart-broken. It is said, his death 
 was accelerated by the news of King Charles's 
 
BALLADS ON THE CIVIL WARS. 
 
 531 
 
 Montrose again, that chieftain bold, 
 Back unto Scotland fair he came. 
 
 For to redeem fair Scotland's land, 
 
 The pleasant, gallant, worthy Grahami 
 
 At the water of Carron he did begin, 
 And fought the battle to the end ; 
 
 And there were killed, for our noble king, 
 Two thousand of our Danish men. * 
 
 Gilbert Menzies, of high degree, 
 
 By whom the king's banner was borne ; f 
 For a brave cavalier was he, 
 
 But now to glory he is gone. 
 
 Then woe to Straehan, and Hacket baith ! £ 
 And Lesly, ill death may thou die ! 
 
 For ye have betrayed the gallant Grahams, 
 Who aye were true to majestie. 
 
 And the laird of Assint has seized Montrose, 
 And had him into Edinburgh town, 
 
 And frae his body taken the head, 
 And quartered him upon a trone. 
 
 And Huntly's gone the self-same way, § 
 And our noble king is also gone; 
 
 He suffered death for our nation, 
 
 Our mourning tears can ne'er be done. 
 
 execution. He became representative of the 
 Gordon family, or " Young Huntly," as the bal- 
 lad expresses it, in consequence of the death of 
 his elder brother, George, who fell in the battle 
 of Alford.— History of Gordon family.— Scott. 
 
 * Montrose's foreign auxiliaries, who, by the 
 way, did not exceed 600 in all. — Scott. 
 
 + Gilbert Menzies, younger of Pitfoddells, car- 
 ried the royal banner in Montrose's last battle. 
 It bore the headless corpse of Charles I., with 
 this motto, "Judge and revenge my cause, O 
 Lord ! " Menzie9 proved himself worthy of this 
 noble trust, and, obstinately refusing quarter, 
 died in defence of his charge. — Montrose's Me- 
 moirs. — Scott. 
 
 $ Sir Charles Hacket, an officer in the service 
 of the estates— Scott. 
 
 § George Gordon, second marquis of Huntly, 
 one of the very few nobles in Scotland, who had 
 uniformly adhered to the king from the very be- 
 ginning of the troubles, was beheaded by the 
 sentence of the parliament of Scotland (so calling 
 themselves,) upon the 22d March, 1649, one M 
 
 But our brave young king is now come home, 
 King Charles the Second in degree ; 
 
 The Lord send peace into his time, 
 And God preserve his majestie ! 
 
 [" We have observed the early antipathy," says 
 Sir Walter, " mutually entertained by the Scot- 
 tish Presbyterians and the house of Stuart. It 
 seems to have glowed in the breast even of the 
 good-natured Charles II. He might have remem- 
 bered, that, in 1551, the Presbyterians had fought, 
 bled, and ruined themselves in his cause. But 
 he rather recollected their early faults than their 
 late repentance ; and even their services were 
 combined with the recollection of the absurd and 
 humiliating circumstances of personal degrada- 
 tion, || to which their pride and fully had sub- 
 jected him, while they professed to espouse his 
 
 month and twenty-two days after the martyrdom 
 of his master. He has been much blamed for not 
 cordially co-operating with Montrose ; and 
 Bishop VVishart, in the zeal of partiality for his 
 hero, accuses Huntly of direct treachery. But 
 he is a true believer, who seals, with his blood, 
 his creed, religious or political ; and there are 
 many reasons, short of this foul charge, which 
 may have dictated the backward conduct of 
 Huntly towards Montrose. He could not for- 
 get, that, when he first stood out for the king, 
 Montrose, then the soldier of the covenant, had 
 actually made him prisoner; and we cannot 
 suppose Huntly to have been so sensible of Mon- 
 trose's superior military talents, as not to think 
 himself, as equal in rank, superior in power, and 
 more uniform in loyalty, entitled to equally high 
 marks of royal trust and favour. Thus much is 
 certain, that the gallant clan of Gordon contri- 
 buted greatly to Montrose's success ; for the gen- 
 tlemen of that name, with the brave and loj al 
 Ogilvies, composed the principal part of his 
 cavalry. — Scott. 
 
 || "Among other ridiculous occurrences, it is 
 said, that some of Charles's gallantrits were dis- 
 covered by a prying neighbour. A wily old min- 
 ister was deputed by his brethren to rebuke tb.3 
 
532 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS 
 
 eaus?. ab a man of pleasure, he hated their 
 stern and inflexible rigour, which stigmatised 
 follies even more deeply than crimes ; and he 
 whispered to his confidants, that ' presbytery 
 was no religion for a gentleman.' It is not ; 
 therefore, wonderful, that, in the first year of his 
 restoration, he formally re-established prelacy in 
 Scotland ; but it is surprising, that, with his 
 father's example before his eyes, he should not 
 have been satisfied to leave at freedom the con- 
 sciences of those who could not reconcile them- 
 selves to the new system. The religious opinions 
 of sectaries have a tendency, like the water of 
 some springs, to become soft and mild, when 
 freely exposed to the open day. Who can recog- 
 nise, in the decent and industrious quakers, and 
 anabaptists, the wild and ferocious tenets which 
 distinguished their sects, while they were yet 
 honoured with the distinction of the scourge and 
 the pillory ? Had the system of coercion against 
 the Presoyterians been continued until our day, 
 Blair and Robertson would have preached in the 
 wilderness, and only discovered their powers of 
 eloquence and composition, by rolling along a 
 deeper torrent of gloomy fanaticism. 
 
 " The western counties distinguished them- 
 selves by their opposition to the prelatic system. 
 Three hundred and fifty ministers, ejected from 
 their churches and livings, wandered through 
 the mountains, sowing the seeds of covenanted 
 doctrine, while multitudes of fanatical followers 
 pursued them, to reap the forbidden crop. These 
 conventicles, as they were called, were denounced 
 by the law, and their frequenters dispersed by 
 military furce. The genius of the persecuted be- 
 came stubborn, obstinate, and ferocious; and, 
 although indulgencies were tardily granted to 
 some Presbyterian ministers, few of the true 
 covenanters or whigs, as they were called, would 
 condescend to compound with a prelatic govern- 
 ment, or to listen even to their own favourite 
 doctrine under the auspices of the king. From 
 Eichard Cameron, their apostle, this rigid sect 
 acquired the name of Cameronians. They preach- 
 
 king for this heinous scandal. Being introduced 
 into the royal presence, he limited his commission 
 to a serious admonition, that, upon such occa- 
 sions, is majesty should always shut the win- 
 dows. The king is said to have recompensed this 
 unexpected lenity after the Eestoration. He 
 probably remembered the joke, though he might 
 have forgotten the service."— Scott. ; 
 
 red and prayed against the indulgence, and against 
 the Presbyterians who availed themselves of it, 
 because their accepting this royal boon was a 
 tacit acknowledgment of the king's supremacy 
 in ecclesiastical matters. 
 
 " The insurrection, commemorated and mag- 
 nified in the following ballad, as indeed it has 
 been in some histories, was, in itself, no very im- 
 portant affair. It began in Dumfries-shire, 
 where Sir James Turner, a soldier of fortune, 
 was employed to levy the arbitrary fines imposed 
 for not attending the episcopal churches. The 
 people rose, seized his person, disarmed his sol- 
 diers, and, having continued together, resolved 
 to march towards Edinburgh, expecting to be 
 joined by their friends in that quarter. In this 
 they were disappointed; and, being now dimin- 
 ished to half their numbers, they drew up on the 
 Pentland hills, at a place called Kullien Green. 
 They were commanded by one Wallace; and 
 here they awaited the approach of General Dal- 
 ziel, of Binns ; who, having marched to Calder, 
 to meet them on the Lanark road, and finding, 
 that, by passing through Collington, they had 
 got to the other side of the hills, cut through the 
 mountains, and approached them. "Wallace 
 showed both spirit and judgment: he drew up 
 his men in a very strong situation, and withstood 
 two charges of Dalziel's cavalry ; but, upon the 
 third shock, the insurgents were broken, and 
 utterly dispersed. There was very little slaugh- 
 ter, as the cavalry of Dalziel were chiefly gentle- 
 men, who pitied their oppressed and misguided 
 countrymen. There were about fifty killed, and 
 as many made prisoners. The battle was fought 
 on the 28th November, 1666 ; a day still observed 
 by the scattered remnant of the Cameronian 
 sect, who regularly hear a field-preaching upon 
 the field of battle. 
 
 " I am obliged for a copy of the ballad to Mr. 
 Livingston of Airds, who took it down from the 
 recitation of an old woman residing on his estate. 
 
 " The gallant Grahams, mentioned in the text, 
 are Graham of Claverhouse's horse."] 
 
 The gallant Grahams cum from the west, 
 "Wi' their horses black as ony craw ; 
 The Lothian lads they marched fast, 
 To be at the Ehyns o' Gallowa'. 
 
 Betwixt Dumfries town and Argyle, 
 The lads they marched mony a mile ; 
 Souters and taylors unto them drew, 
 Their covenants for to renew. 
 
BALLADS ON THE CIVIL WAKS. 
 
 533 
 
 The whigs, they, wi' their merry cracks, 
 Gar'd the poor pedlars lay dowa their packs ; 
 But aye sinsyne they do repent 
 The renewing o' their covenant. 
 
 At the Mauchline muir, where they were re- 
 viewed, 
 Ten thousand men in armour showed ; 
 But, ere they came to the Brockie's burn, 
 The half o' them did back return. 
 
 General Dalyell, as I hear tell, 
 
 Was our lieutenant-general ; 
 
 And captain Welsh, wi' his wit and skill, 
 
 Was to guide them on to the Pentland hill. 
 
 General Dalyell held to the hill, 
 Asking at them what was their will ; 
 And who gave them this protestation, 
 To rise in arms against the nation ? 
 
 " Although we all in armour be, 
 It's not against his majesty ; 
 Nor yet to spill our neighbour's bluid, 
 But wi' the country we'll conclude." 
 
 " Lay down your arms, in the king's name, 
 And ye shall a' gae safely hame ;" 
 But they a' cried out, wi' ae consent, 
 " We'll fight a broken covenant." 
 
 " O well," says he, "since it is so, 
 A willfu' man never wanted woe;" 
 He then gave a sign unto his lads, 
 And they drew up in their brigades. 
 
 The trumpets blew, and the colours flew, 
 And every man to his armour drew ; 
 The whigs were never so much aghast, 
 As to see their saddles toom sae fast. 
 
 The cleverest men stood in the van, 
 The whigs they took their heels and ran ; 
 But such a raking was never seen, 
 As the raking o' the Rullien Green. 
 
 t" The whigs," (continues Sir Walter, in his 
 valuable historical introductions to the ballads 
 on the civil wars, — valuable, and, on the whole, 
 
 Jfe impartial in their statements, although the 
 writer's sympathies lean to the high church and 
 tory party) — " the whigs, now become desperate, 
 adopted the most desperate principles; and re- 
 taliating, as far as they could, the intolerating 
 persecution which they endured, they openly dis- 
 claimed allegiance to any monarch who should 
 not profess presbytery, and subscribe the cove- 
 nant. — These principles were not likely to conci- 
 liate the favour of government; and as we wade 
 onward in the history of the times, the scenes 
 become yet darker. At length, one would ima- 
 gine the parties had agreed to divide the kingdom 
 of vice betwixt them ; the hunters assuming to 
 themselves open profligacy and legalized oppres- 
 sion ; and the hunted, the opposite attributes of 
 hypocrisy, fanaticism, disloyalty, and midnight 
 assassination . The troopers and cavaliers became 
 enthusiasts in the pursuit of the covenanters. If 
 Messrs Kid, King, Cameron, Peden, &c. boasted 
 of prophetic powers, and were often warned of 
 the approach of the soldiers, by supernatural im- 
 pulse, * captain John Creichton, on the other 
 side, dreamed dreams, and saw visions, (chiefly, 
 indeed, after having drunk hard,) in which the 
 lurking holes of the rebels were discovered to his 
 imagination, f Our ears are scarcely more shocked 
 with the profane execrations of the persecutors, $ 
 than with the strange and insolent familiarity 
 used towards the Deity by the persecuted fanatics. 
 
 * « In the year 1684, Peden, one of the Cameronian 
 preachers, about ten o'clock at night, sitting at the 
 fire-side, started up to his feet, and said, 'Flee, auld 
 Sandie, (thus he designed himself,) and hide yourself! 
 for colonel is coming to this'house to appre- 
 hend you • and I advise you all to do the like, for he 
 will be here within an hour;' which came to pass: 
 and when they had made a very narrow search, within 
 and without the house, and went round the thorn- 
 bush, under which he was lying praying, they went 
 off without their prey. He came in, and said, 'And 
 has this gentleman (designed by his name) given poor 
 Sandie, and thir poor things, such a fright ? For this 
 night's work, God shall give him such a blow, within 
 a few days, that all the physicians on earth shall not 
 be able to cure;' which came to pass, for he died in 
 great misery. — Life of Alexander Peden."— Scott. 
 
 t " See the life of this booted apostle to prelacy, 
 written by Swift, who had collected all his aneodoies 
 of persecution, and appears to have enjoyed them ac- 
 cordingly." — Scott. 
 
 J " ' They raved,' says Peden's historian, ' like fleshly 
 devils, when the mist shrouded from their pursuit the 
 wandering whigs.' One gentleman closed a declara- 
 tion of vengeance against the conventiclers, with this 
 strange imprecation, ' Or may the devil make my ribs 
 a gridiron to my soul !*— MS. Account of \he Presby- 
 tery of Penpont. Our armies swore terribly in Flau- 
 ifders, but nothing to this !"— Scolt. 
 
534 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 Their indecent modes of prayer, their extrava- 
 gant expectations of miraculous assistance, and 
 their supposed inspirations, might easily furnish 
 out a tale, at which the good would sigh, and the 
 gay would laugh. * 
 
 " In truth, extremes always approach each 
 other; and the superstition of the Roman Ca- 
 tholics was, in some decree, revived, even by their 
 most deadly enemies. They are ridiculed, by the 
 cavaliers, as wearing the relics of their saints by 
 way of amulet : — 
 
 " She showed to me a box, wherein lay hid 
 The pictures of Cargil and Mr. Kid ; 
 A splinter of the tree on which they were slain ; 
 A double inch of Major Weir's best cane; 
 Rathillet's sword, beat down to table knife; 
 Which took at Magus' Muir a bishop's life; 
 The worthy Welch's spectacles, who saw, 
 That windle-straws would tight against the law; 
 They, windle-straivs, were stoutest of the two, 
 They kept their ground, away the prophet flew; 
 And lists of all the prophets' names were seen 
 At Pentland Hills, And Moss, and Rullen Green. 
 ' Don't think,' she says, ' these holy things are 
 
 foppery ; 
 They're precious antidotes against the power of 
 
 popery.' 
 The Cameronian Tooth. — Pennycuick's Poems, p. 110." 
 
 " The militia and standing army soon became 
 unequal to the task of enforcing conformity, and 
 suppressing conventicles. In their aid, and to 
 force compliance with a test, proposed by govern- 
 ment, the Highland clans were raised, and poured 
 down into Ayrshire, f An armed host of undis- 
 ciplined mountaineers, speaking a different lan- 
 guage, and professing, many of them, another 
 religion, were let loose, to ravage and plunder 
 this unfortunate country; and it is truly aston- 
 ishing to find how few acts of cruelty they per- 
 petrated, and how seldom they added murder to 
 pillage, i Additional levies of horse were also 
 
 • [Many years after this was written, Sir W alter ex- 
 emplified in his own masterly tale ol " Old Mortality " 
 how much might be made of the subject — a tale which 
 has been considered by some as bearing hard upon the 
 Covenanters, but which, notwithstanding some draw- 
 backs on this headi has been instrumental in making 
 their cause and heroic sufferings known to tens of 
 thousands, both in the old and new world, who would 
 never otherwise have heard of their name.] 
 
 f " Peden complained heavily, that, after a heavy 
 struggle with tne devil, he had got above him, spur- 
 galled him hard, and obtained a wind to carry him 
 from Ireland to Scotland, when, behold 1 another per- 
 son had set sail, and reaped the advantage of his 
 *prayer-wind' before he could embark." — Scott. 
 
 t " Cleland thus describes this extraordinary army : 
 
 raised, under 'the name of Independent Troops, 
 and great part of them placed under the com- 
 mand of James Graham of Claverhouse, a man 
 well known to fame, by his subsequent title of 
 viscount Dundee, but better remembered, in the 
 western shires, under the designation of the 
 Bloody Clavers. In truth, he appears to have 
 combined the virtues and vices of a savage chief. 
 Fierce, unbending, and rigorous, no emotion of 
 compassion prevented his commanding and wit- 
 nessing every detail of military execution against 
 the non-conformists. Undauntedly brave, and 
 steadily faithful to his prince, he sacrificed him- 
 self in the cause of James, when he was deserted 
 by all the world. If we add, to these attributes, 
 a goodly person, complete skill in martial exer- 
 cises, and that ready and decisive character, so 
 essential to a commander, we may form some 
 idea of this extraordinary character. The whigs, 
 whom he persecuted, daunted by his ferocity and 
 courage, conceived him to be impassive to their 
 bullets, § and that he had sold himself, for tem- 
 
 * — Those, who were their chief commanders, 
 
 As such who bore the pirnie standarts, 
 
 Who led the van, and drove the rear, 
 
 Were right weel mounted of their gear ; 
 
 With brogues, and trews, and pimie plaids, 
 
 With good blue bonnets on their heads, 
 
 Which, on the one side, had a flipe, 
 
 Adorn'd with a tobacco-pipe, 
 
 With durk, and snap-work, and snuff-mill, 
 
 A bag which they with onions fill; 
 
 And, as their strict observers say, 
 
 A tup-horn filled with usquebay ; 
 
 A slasht out coat beneath her plaides, 
 
 A targe of timber, nails, and hides ; 
 
 With a long two-handed sword, 
 
 4s good's the country can afford. 
 
 Had they not need of bulk and bones, 
 
 Who fought with all these arms at once ? 
 
 Of moral honestie they're clean, 
 
 Nought like religion they retain; 
 
 In nothing they're accounted sharp, 
 
 Except in bag-pipe, and in harp ; 
 
 For a misobhging word, 
 
 She'll durk her neighbour o'er the boord, 
 
 And then she'll flee like fire from flint. 
 
 She'll scarcely ward the second dint ; 
 
 If any ask her of her thrift, 
 
 Forsooth her nainsell lives by thift.' 
 
 Cleland's Poems, Edin. lo97, p. 12."— Scott. 
 § " It was, and is believed, that the devil furnished 
 his favourites, among the persecutors, with what is 
 called proof against leaden bullets, but against those 
 only. During the battle of Pentlaud-hills, Paton ot 
 Meadowhead conceived he saw the balls hop harm- 
 lessly down from General Dalziel's boots, and, to 
 counteract the spell, loaded his pistol with a piece of 
 silver coin. But Dalziel, having his eye on him, drew 
 
BALLADS ON THE CIVIL WARS. 
 
 535 
 
 poral greatness, to the seducer of mankind. It 
 is still believed, that a cup of wine, presented to 
 him by his butler, changed into clotted blood ; 
 and that, when he plunged his feet into cold 
 water, their touch caused it to boil. The steed, 
 which bore him, was supposed to be the gift of 
 Satan ; and precipices are shown, where a fox 
 could hardly keep his feet, down which the infer- 
 nal charger conveyed him safely, in pursuit of the 
 wanderers. It i3 remembered, with terror, that 
 Claverhouse was successful in every engagement 
 with the whigs, except that at Drumelog, or 
 LoudoH-hill, which is the subject of the following 
 ballad. The history of Burly, * the hero of the 
 piece, will bring u3 immediately to the causes 
 and circumstances of that event. 
 
 "John Balfour of Kinloch, commonly called 
 Burly, was one of the fiercest of the proscribed 
 sect. A gentleman by birth, he was, says his 
 biographer, ' zealous and honest-hearted, coura- 
 geous in every enterprize, and a brave soldier, 
 seldom any escaping that came in his hands.' — 
 Life of John Balfour. Creichton says, that he 
 was once chamberlain to Archbishop Sharpe, 
 and, by negligence, or dishonesty, had incurred 
 a large arrear, which occasioned his being active 
 in his master's assassination. But of this I know 
 
 back behind his servant, who was shot dead.— Paton's 
 Life. At a skirmish, in Ayrshire, some of the wan- 
 derers defended themselves in a sequestered house, by 
 the side of a lake. They aimed repeatedly, but in vain, 
 at the commander of the assailants, an English officer, 
 until, their ammunition running short, one of them 
 loaded his piece with the ball at the head of the tongs, 
 and succeeded in shooting the hitherto impenetrable 
 captain. To accommodate Dundee's fate to their own 
 hypothesis, the Cameronian tradition runs, that, in 
 the battle of Killicrankie, he fell, not by the enemy's 
 fire, but by the pistol of one of his own servants, who, 
 to avoid the spell, had loaded it with a silver button 
 from his coat. One of their writers argues thus : 
 ' Perhaps, some may think this, anent proof-shot, a 
 paradox, and be ready to object here, as formeily con- 
 cerning Bishop Sharpe and Dalziel— How can the 
 devil have, or give, power to save life ? Without en- 
 tering upon the thing hi its reality, I shall only ob- 
 serve, 1. That it is neither in his power, or of his 
 nature, to be a saviour of men's lives ; he is called 
 Apollyon, the destroyer. 2. That, even in this case, 
 he is said only to give enchantment against one kind 
 of metal, and this does not save life; for, though lead 
 could not take Sharpe and Claverhouse's lives, yet 
 steel and silver could do it; and, for Dalziel, though 
 he died not on the held, yet he did not escape the ar- 
 rows of the Almighty.'— God's Judgement against 
 Persecutors. If the reader be not now convinced of 
 the thing in its reality, 1 have nothiug to add to such 
 exquisite reasoning."— Scott. 
 
 » [Afterwards to be immortalized in the tale of 
 " Old Mortality," q. v.] 
 
 no other evidence than Creichton's assertion, and 
 a hint in Wodrow. Burly (for that is his most 
 common designation) was brother in-law to 
 Hackston of Rathillet, a wild enthusiastic char- 
 acter, who joined daring courage and skill in the 
 sword to the fiery zeal of his sect. Burly, him- 
 self, was less eminent for religious fervour, than 
 for the active and violent share which he had in 
 the most desperate enterprizes of his party. His 
 name does not appear among the covenanters, 
 who were denounced for the affair of Pentland. 
 But, in 1677, Robert Hamilton, afterwards com- 
 mander of the insurgents at Loudon-hill, and 
 Bothwell Bridge, with several other non-con- 
 formists, were assembled at this Bui lys house, in 
 Fife. There they were attacked by a party of 
 soldiers, commanded by captain Carstairs, whom 
 they beat off, wounding desperately one of his 
 party. For this resistance to authority, they 
 were declared rebels. The next exploit in which 
 Burly was engaged, was of a bloodier complexion 
 and more dreadful celebrity. It is well known, 
 that James Sharpe, archbishop of St. Andrews, 
 was regarded by the rigid Presbyterians, not only 
 as a renegade, who had turned back from the 
 spiritual plough, but as the principal author of 
 the rigours exercised against their sect. He em- 
 ployed, as an agent of his oppression, one Carmi- 
 chael, a decayed gentleman. The industry of 
 this man, in procuring information, and in en- 
 forcing the severe penalties against con venticlers, 
 having excited the resentment of the Cameron- 
 ians, nine of their number, of whom Burly and 
 his brother-in-law, Hackston, were the leaders, 
 assembled, with the purpose of way-laying and 
 murdering Carmichael ; but, while they searched 
 for him in vain, they received tidings that the 
 archbishop himself was at hand. The party re- 
 sorted to prayer ; after which, they agreed unani- 
 mously, that the Lord' had delivered the wicked 
 Haman into their hand. In the execution of the 
 supposed will of heaven, they agreed to put them- 
 selves under the command of a leader ; and they 
 requested Hackston of Rathillet to accept the 
 office, which he declined, alleging, that, should 
 he comply with their request, the slaughter might 
 be imputed to a private quarrel, which existed 
 betwixt him and the archbishop. The command 
 was then offered to Burly, who accepted it with- 
 out scruple; and they galloped off in pursuit of 
 the archbishop's carriage, which contained him- 
 self and his daughter. Being well mounted, they 
 easily overtook and disarmed the prelate's attend- 
 &ants. Burly, crying out 'Judas be taken 1' rode 
 
536 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 up to the carriage, wounded the postillion, and 
 ham-strung one of the horses. He then fired 
 into the coach a piece, charged with several bul- 
 lets, so near, that the archbishop's gown was set 
 on fire. The rest, coming up, dismounted, and 
 dragged him out of the carriage, when, fright- 
 ened and wounded, he crawled towards Hacks- 
 ton , who still remained on horseback, and begged 
 for mercy. The stern enthusiast contented him- 
 self with answering, that he would not himself 
 lay a hand on him. Burly and his men again 
 fired a volley upon the kneeling old man ; and 
 were in the act of riding off, when one, who re- 
 mained to girth his horse, unfortunately heard 
 the daughter of their victim call to the servant 
 for help, exclaiming, that his master was still 
 alive . Burly then again dismounted, struck off 
 the prelate's hat with his foot, and split his skull 
 with his shable (broad sword,) although one of 
 the party (probably Rathillet) exclaimed, * Spare 
 these gray hairs!' * The rest pierced him with 
 rep eated wounds. They plundered the carriage, 
 and rode off, leaving, beside the mangled corpse, 
 th e daughter, who was herself wounded, in her 
 pious endeavour to interpose betwixt her father 
 and his murderers. The murder is accurately 
 represented, in bas relief, upon a beautiful monu- 
 ment, erected to the memory of archbishop 
 Sharpe, in the metropolitan church of St. An- 
 drews. This memorable example of fanatic re- 
 venge was acted upon Magus Muir, near St. 
 Andrews, 3d May, 1679. t 
 
 * " They believed Sharpe to be proof against shot; 
 for one of the murderers told "Wodjow, that, at the 
 sight of cold iron, his courage fell. They no longer 
 doubted this, when they found in his pocket a small 
 clue of silk, rolled round a bit of parchment, marked 
 with two lonj words, in Hebrew or Cualdaic charac- 
 ters. Accordingly, it is still averred, that the balls 
 only left blue marks on the prelate's neck and breast, 
 although the discharge was so near as to burn his 
 clothes."— Scott. 
 
 ■f "The question, whether the bishop of St. Andrews' 
 death was murder, was a shibboleth, or experimeutum 
 crucis, frequently put to the apprehended conveuti- 
 clers. Isabel Alison, executed at Edinburgh, 26th 
 January, 1681, was interrogated, before the privy 
 council, if she conversed with David Hackston? 'I 
 answered, I did converse with him, and I bless the 
 Lord that ever I saw him; for I never saw ought in 
 him but a godly pious youth. They asked, if the kill- 
 ing of the bishop of St Andrews was a pious act ? I 
 answered, I never heard him say he killed him; but, 
 if God moved any, and put it upon them to execute 
 his righteous judgment upon him, I have nothing to 
 say to that. They asked me, when saw ye John Bal- 
 four (Burly.) that pious youth? I answered, I have 
 seen him. They asked, when? I answered, these aie 
 
 " Burly was, of course, obliged to leave Fife ; 
 and, upon the 25th of the same month, he arrived 
 in Evandale, in Lanarkshire, along with Hacks- 
 ton, and a fellow called Dingwall, or Daniel, 
 one of the same bloody band. Here he joined his 
 old friend Hamilton, already mentioned ; and, 
 as they resolved to take up arms, they were soon 
 at the head of such a body of the ' chased and 
 tossed western men,' as they thought equal to 
 keep the field. They resolved to commence their 
 exploits upon the 29th of May, 1679, being the 
 anniversary of the Restoration, appointed to he 
 kept as a holiday, by act of parliament ; an insti- 
 tution which they esteemed a presumptuous and 
 unholy solemnity. Accordingly, at the head of 
 eighty horse, tolerably appointed, Hamilton, 
 Burly, and Hackston, entered the royal burgh of 
 Ruthe^glen, extinguished the bonfires made in 
 honour of the day, burned at the cross the acts 
 of parliament in favour of prelacy, and for sup- 
 pression of conventicles, as well as those acts of 
 council, which regulated the indulgence granted 
 to Presbyterians. Against all these acts they 
 entered their solemn protest, or testimony, as 
 they called it ; and, having affixed it to the cross, 
 concluded with prayer and psalms. Being now 
 joined by a large body of foot, so that their 
 strength seems to have amounted to five or six 
 hundred men, though very indifferently armed, 
 they encamped upon Loudon-hill. Claverhouse, 
 who was in garrison at Glasgow, instantly 
 marched against the insurgents, at the head of 
 his own troop of cavalry and others, amounting 
 to about one hundred and fifty men. He arrived 
 at Hamilton on the 1st of June, so unexpectedly, 
 as to make prisoner John King, a famous preacher 
 among the wanderers; and rapidly continued 
 his march, carrying his captive along with him, 
 till he came to the village of Drumclog, about a 
 mile east of Loudon-hill, and twelve miles south- 
 west of Hamilton. At some distance from this 
 place, the insurgents were skilfully posted in a 
 boggy strait, almo s t inaccessible to cavalry, hav 
 ing a broad ditch in their front. Claverhouse's 
 dragoons discharged their carabines, and made 
 an attempt to charge; but the nature of the 
 ground threw them into total disorder. Burly, 
 who commanded the handful of horse belonging 
 to the whigs, instantly led them down on the 
 disordered squadrons of Claverhouse, who were, 
 at the same time, vigorously assaulted by the foot, 
 
BALLADS ON THE CIVIL WARS. 
 
 537 
 
 headed by the gallant Cleland,* and the enthusi- i 
 astic Hackston. Claverhouse himself was forced 
 to fly, and was in the utmost danger of being 
 taken ; his horse's belly being cut open by the 
 stroke of a scythe, so that the poor animal trailed 
 his bowels for more than a mile. In his flight, 
 he passed King, the minister, lately his prisoner, 
 but now deserted by his guard, in the general 
 confusion. The preacher hollowed to the flying 
 commander, to ' halt, and take his prisoner with 
 him ;' or, as others say, 'to stay, and take the 
 afternoon's preaching.' Claverhouse, at length 
 remounted, continued his retreat to Glasgow. 
 He lost, in the skirmish, about twenty of his 
 troopers, and his own cornet and kinsman, Ro- 
 bert Graham, whose fate is alluded to in the bal- 
 lad. Only four of the other side were killed, 
 among whom was Dingwall, or Daniel, an asso- 
 ciate of Burly in Sharpe's murder. ' The rebels,' 
 says Crichton, ' finding the cornet's body, and 
 supposing it to be that of Clavers, because the 
 name of Graham was wrought in the shirt-neck, 
 treated it with the utmost inhumanity; cutting 
 off the nose, picking out the eyes, and stabbing 
 it through in a hundred places.' The same charge 
 is brought by Guild, in his ' Bellum Bothuelli- 
 anum.' 
 
 "Although Burly was among the most active 
 leaders in the action, he was not the commander- 
 in-chief, as one would conceive from the ballad. 
 That honour belonged to Robert Hamilton, 
 brother to Sir William Hamilton of Preston, a 
 gentleman, who, like most of those atDrumclog, 
 had imbibed the very wildest principles of fanati- 
 
 * " William Cleland, a man of considerable genius, 
 was author of several poems, published in 1G97. His 
 Hudibrastic verses are poor scurrilous trash, as the 
 reader may judge from the description of the High- 
 landers, already quoted. But, in a wiid rhapsody, e i- 
 titled, « Hollo, my Fancy,' he displays some imagina- 
 tion. His anti-monarchical principles seem to break 
 out in the following lines ; 
 
 
 II kr 
 
 If falcons killing eagli 
 
 -u.y : 
 
 
 He was a strict non-conformist, and after the Revolu- 
 tion, became lieutenant-colonel of the earl of Angus's 
 regiment, called the Cameroniau regiment. He was 
 lulled 21st August, 1689, in the churchyard of Dun- 
 keld, which his corps manfully and successfully de- 
 fended against a superior body of Highlanders. His 
 son was the author of the letter prefixed to the Dun- 
 ciad, and is said to have been the notorious Clelaml, 
 who, in circumstances of pecuniary embarrassment, 
 prostituted his talents to the composition of indecent 
 and infamous works ; but this seems inconsistent 
 with dates, and the latter personage was probably the 
 grandson of colonel Cleland." — Scott. 
 
 eism. The Cameronian account of the insurrec- 
 tion states, that ' Mr. Hamilton discovered a 
 great deal of bravery and valour, both in the 
 conflict with, and pursuit of the enemy ; but 
 when he and some others were pursuing the 
 enemy, others flew too greedily upon the spoil, 
 small as it was, instead of pursuing the victory : 
 and some, without Mr. Hamilton's knowledge, 
 and against his strict command, gave five of these 
 bloody enemies quarters, and then let them go : 
 this greatly grieved Mr. Hamilton, when he saw 
 some of Babel's brats spared, after the Lord had 
 delivered them to their hands, that they might 
 dash them against the stones.' — Pta/m exxxvii. 9. 
 In his own account of this, 'he reckons the spar- 
 ing of these enemies, and letting them go, to be 
 among their first stepping aside ; for which he 
 feared that the Lord would not honour them to 
 do much more for him ; and says, that he was 
 neither for taking favours from, nor giving fa- 
 vours to, the Lord's enemies.' Burly was not a 
 likely man to fall into this sort of backsliding. 
 He disarmed one of the duke of Hamilton's ser- 
 vants, who had been in the action, and desired 
 him to tell his master, he would keep, till meet- 
 ing, the pistols he had taken from him. The 
 man described Burly to the duke as a little stout 
 man, squint-eyed, and of a most ferocious aspect ; 
 from which it appears that Burly's figure corre- 
 sponded to his manners, and perhaps gave rise to 
 his nickname, Burly, signifying strong. He was 
 with the insurgents till the battle of Bothwell 
 Bridge, and afterwards fled to Holland. He 
 joined the prince of Orange, but died at sea, 
 during the expedition. The Cameronians still 
 believe he had obtained liberty from the prince to 
 be avenged of those who had prosecuted the Lord s 
 people; but, through his death, the laudable 
 design of purging the land with their blood, is 
 supposed to have fallen to the ground. — Lift of 
 Balfour of Kinloch. 
 
 " The consequences of the battle of Loudon- 
 hill will be detailed in the introduction to the 
 next ballad."] 
 
 X"ou'l marvel when I tell ye o* 
 Our noble Burly, and his train ; 
 
 "When last he march'd up thro' the land, 
 "Wi* sax-and-twenty westland men. 
 
 Than they I ne'er o' braver heard, 
 
 For they had a' baith wit and skill ; 
 They proved right well, as I heard tell, 
 r As they cam' up o'er Loudon-hill. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 538 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 Weel prosper a' the gospel lads, ! 
 
 & Then back he came the way he g<ied, 
 
 
 
 That are into the west countrie; 
 
 I wat right soon and suddenly ! 
 
 
 
 Ay wicked Claver'se to demean, 
 
 He gave command amang his men, 
 
 
 
 And ay an ill dead may he die ! 
 
 And sent them back, and bade them flee. 
 
 
 
 For he's drawn up i' battle rank, 
 
 Then up came Burly, bauld an" stout, 
 
 
 
 An' that baith soon an' hastilie ; 
 
 Wi's little train o* "Westland men ; 
 
 
 
 But they wha live till simmer come, 
 
 Wha mair than either aince or twice 
 
 
 
 Some bludie days for this will see. 
 
 In Edinburgh confined had been. 
 
 
 
 But up spak' cruel Claver'se then, 
 
 They ha'e been up to London sent, 
 
 
 
 Wi' hastie wit, an' wicked skill ; 
 
 An' yet they're a' come safely down ; 
 
 
 
 " Gi'e fire on yon westlan' men ; 
 
 Sax troop o' horsemen they ha'e beat, 
 
 
 
 I think it is my sov'reign's will." 
 
 And chased them into Glasgow town. 
 
 
 
 But up bespake his cornet, then, 
 
 
 
 
 " It's be wi' nae consent o' me ! 
 
 
 
 
 
 I ken I'll ne'er come back again, 
 
 
 
 
 An' mony mae as weel as me. 
 
 
 
 
 "There is not ane of a' yon men, 
 
 M&UU of 38otiJfoeU=fati&ge, 
 
 
 
 But wha is worthy other three ; 
 
 
 
 
 There is na ane amang them a', 
 
 [" It has been often remarked, that the Scot- 
 
 
 
 That in his cause will stap to die. 
 
 tish, notwithstanding their national courage, 
 were always unsuccessful when fighting for their 
 
 
 
 " An' as for Burly, him I knaw ; 
 
 religion. The cause lay, not in the principle, but 
 
 
 
 He's a man of honour, birth, an' fame ; 
 
 in the mode of its application. A leader, like 
 
 
 
 Gi'e him a sword into his hand, 
 
 Mahomet, who is at the same time the prophet 
 
 
 
 He'll fight thysel' an' other ten." 
 
 of his tribe, may avail himself of religious enthu- 
 siasm, because it comes to the aid of discipline, 
 
 
 
 But up spake wicked Claver'se then. 
 
 and is a powerful means of attaining the despotic 
 
 
 
 I wat his heart it raise fu' hie '. 
 
 command essential to the success of a general. 
 
 
 
 And he has cry'd that a' might hear, 
 
 But, among the insurgents, in the reigns of the 
 
 
 
 " Man, ye ha'e sair deceived me. 
 
 last Stuart3, were mingled preachers, who taught 
 different shades of the Presbyterian doctrine; 
 
 
 
 " I never ken'd the like afore, 
 
 and, minute as these shades sometimes were, 
 
 
 
 Na, never since I came frae hame, 
 
 neither the several shepherds, nor their flocks, 
 
 
 
 That you sae cowardly here suld prove, 
 
 could cheerfully unite in a common cause. This 
 
 
 
 An' yet come of a noble Graeme." 
 
 will appear from the transactions leading to the 
 battle of Bothwell-bridge. 
 
 
 
 But up bespake his cornet, then, 
 
 " We have seen, that the party which defeated 
 
 
 
 "Since that it is your honour's will, 
 
 Claverhouse at Loudon-hill, were Cameronians, 
 
 
 
 Mysel' shall be the foremost man, 
 
 whose principles consisted in disowning all tem- 
 
 
 
 That shall gi'e fire on Loudon-hill. 
 
 poral authority, which did not flow from and 
 through the Solemn League and Covenant. This 
 
 
 
 "At your command I'll lead them on, 
 
 doctrine, which is still retained by a scattered 
 
 
 
 But yet wi' nae consent o' me ; 
 
 remnant of the sect in Scotland, is in theory, and 
 
 
 
 For weel I ken I'll ne'er return, 
 
 would be in practice, inconsistent with the safety 
 
 
 
 And mony mae as weel as me." 
 
 of any well-regulated government, because the 
 Covenanters deny to their governors that tolera- 
 
 
 
 Then up he drew in battle rank ; 
 
 tion, which was iniquitously refused to them- 
 
 
 
 I wat he had a bonnie train ! 
 
 selves. In many respects, therefore, we cannot 
 
 
 
 But the first time that bullets flew, 
 
 be surprised at the anxiety and rigour with which 
 
 
 
 Ay he lost twenty o' his men. ! 
 
 5 the Cameronians were persecuted, although we 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
BALLADS ON THE CIVIL "WARS. 
 
 539 
 
 may be of opinion, that milder means would have 
 induced a melioration of their principles. These 
 men, as already noticed, excepted against such 
 Presbyterians as were contented to exercise their 
 worship under the indulgence granted by gov- 
 ernment, or, in other words, who would have 
 been satisfied with toleration for themselves, 
 without insisting upon a revolution in the state, 
 or even in the church government. 
 
 " When, however, the success at Loudon Hill 
 was spread abroad, a number of preachers, gen- 
 tlemen, and common people, who had embraced 
 the more moderate doctrine, joined the army of 
 Hamilton, thinking that the difference in their 
 opinions ought not to prevent their acting in th3 
 common cause. The insurgents were repulsed in 
 an attack upon the town of Glasgow, which, how- 
 ever, Claverhouse, shortly afterwards, thought 
 it necessary to evacuate. They were now nearly 
 in full possession of the west of Scotland, and 
 pitched their camp at Hamilton, where, instead 
 of modelling and disciplining their army, the 
 Cameronians and Erastians (for so the violent 
 insurgents chose to call the more moderate Pres- 
 byterians) only debated, in council of war, the 
 real cause of their being in arms. Hamilton, 
 their general, was the leader of the first party ; 
 Mr. John "Walsh, a minister, headed the Eras- 
 tians. The latter so far prevailed, as to get a 
 declaration drawn up, in which they owned the 
 king's government ; but the publication of it 
 gave rise to new quarrels. Each faction had its 
 own set of leaders, all of whom aspired to be 
 officers; and there were actually two councils of 
 war issuing contrary orders and declarations at 
 the same time ; the one owning the king, and 
 the other designing him a malignant, bloody, 
 and perjured tyrant. 
 
 " Meanwhile, their numbers and zeal were 
 magnified at Edinburgh, and great alarm ex- 
 cited lest they should march eastward. Not only 
 was the foot militia instantly called out, but pro- 
 clamations were issued, directing all the heritors, 
 in the eastern, southern, and northern shires, to 
 repair to the king's host, with their best horses, 
 arms, and retainers. In Eife, and other coun- 
 ties, where the Presbyterian doctrines prevailed, 
 many gentlemen disobeyed this order, and were 
 afterwards severely fined. Most of them alleged, 
 in excuse, the apprehension of disquiet from 
 their wives. * A respectable force was soon as- 
 
 • " « Balcanquhall of that ilk alledged, that his 
 horses were robbed, but shunned to take the declaia NT" 
 
 sembled; and James, duke of Bucsleuch and 
 Monmouth, was sent down, by Charles, to take 
 the command, furnished with instructions, not 
 unfavourable to Presbyterians. The royal army 
 now moved slowly forwards towards Hamilton, 
 and reached Bothwell-moor on the 22J of June, 
 1679. The insurgents were encamped chiefly in 
 the duke of Hamilton's park, along the Clyde, 
 which separated the two armies. Bothwell- 
 bridge, which is long and narrow, had then a 
 portal in the middle, with gates, which the 
 Covenanters shut, and barricadoed with stones 
 and logs of timber. This important post was 
 defended by three hundred of their best men, 
 under Hackston of Bathillet, and Hall of Haugh- 
 head. Early in the morning, this party crossed 
 the bridge, and skirmished with the royal van- 
 guard, now advanced as far as the village of 
 Bothwell. But Hackston speedily retired to his 
 post, at the western end of Both well-bridge. 
 
 " While the dispositions, made by the duke of 
 Monmouth, announced his purpose of assailing 
 the pass, the more moderate of the insurgents 
 resolved to offer terms. Eerguson of Kaitloch, a 
 gentleman of landed fortune, and David Hume, 
 a clergyman, earned to the duke of Monmouth a 
 supplication, demanding free exercise of their re- 
 ligion, a free parliament, and a free general 
 assembly of the church. The duke heard their 
 demands with his natural mildness, and assured 
 them, he would interpose with his majesty in 
 their behalf, on condition of their immediately 
 dispersing themselves, and yielding up their arms. 
 Had the insurgents been all of the moderate 
 opinion, this proposal would have been accepted, 
 much bloodshed saved, and, perhaps, some per- 
 manent advantage derived to their party ; or, 
 had they been all Cameronians, their defence 
 would have been fierce and desperate. But, 
 while their motley and misassorted officers were 
 debating upon the duke's proposal, his field-pieces 
 were already planted on the eastern side of the 
 river, to cover the attack of the foot guards, who 
 were led on by lord Livingstone to force the 
 bridge. Here Hackston maintained his post with 
 zeal and courage ; nor was it until all his ammu- 
 nition was expended, and every support denied 
 
 dor., for fear of disquiet from his wife. Young of 
 Kirkton — his ladyes dangerous sickness, and bitter 
 curses if he should leave her, and the appearance of 
 abortion on hi> offering to go from her. And many 
 others pled, in general terms, that their wives opposed 
 or contradicted their going. But the justiciary court 
 found this defence totally irrelevant.'— I'ountaiuliall'* 
 Decisions, vol. i. p. 88." — Scott. 
 
640 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 him by the general, that he reluctantly abandoned 
 the important pass. ' When his party were 
 drawn back, the duke's army, slowly, and with 
 tiieir cannon in front, defiled along the bridge, 
 and formed in line of battle, as they came over 
 tiie river; the duke commanded the foot, and 
 Claverhouse the cavalry. It would seem, that 
 thf-se movements could not have been performed 
 without at least some loss, had the enemy been 
 serious in opposing them. But the insurgents 
 were otherwise employed. "With the strangest 
 delusion that ever fell upon devoted beings, they 
 chose these precious moments to cashier their 
 officers, and elect others in their room. In this 
 important operation, they were at length dis- 
 turbed by the duke's cannon, at the very first 
 discharge of which, the horse of the Covenanters 
 wheeled, and rode off, breaking and trampling 
 down the ranks of their infantry in their flight. 
 The Cameronian account blames Weir of G-reen- 
 ridge, a commander of the horse, who is termed 
 a sad Achan in the camp. The more moderate 
 party lay the whole blame on Hamilton, whose 
 conduct, they say, left the world to debate 
 whether he was most traitor, cjward, or fool. 
 The generous Monmouth was anxious to spare 
 the blood of his infatuated countrymen, by which 
 he incurred much blame among the high-flying 
 royalists. Lucky it was for the insurgents that 
 the battle did not happen a day later, when old 
 general Dalziel, who divided with Claverhouse 
 the terror and hatred of the whigs, arrived in the 
 camp, with a commission to supersede Mon- 
 mouth, as commander-in-chief. He is said to 
 have upbraided the duke, publicly, with his lenity, 
 and heartily to have wished his own commission 
 had come a day sooner, when, as he expressed 
 himself, ' These rogues should never more have 
 troubled the king or country.' f But, notwith- 
 
 : representation of this part 
 of the engagement m an old painting, of which there 
 are two copies extant, one in the collection of his 
 grace the duke of Hamilton, the other at Dalkeith 
 house. The whole appearauce of the ground, even 
 including a few old houses, is the same which the 
 scene now presents : The removal of the porch, or 
 gateway, upon the bridge, is the only perceptible dif- 
 terence. The duke of Monmouth, on a white charger, 
 directs the march of the party engaged in storming 
 the bridge, while his artillery gall the motley ranks of 
 the Covenanters."— Scott. 
 
 t " Dalziel was a man of savage manners. A pri- 
 soner having railed at him, while under examination 
 before the privy council, calling him 'a Muscovia 
 beast, who used to roast men, the general, in a pas- 
 sion, struck him, with the pomel of his shabble, on the 
 
 hed his girdle, and, as he wore always an oid- 
 fashioned buif coat, his appearance in London never 
 failed to attract the notice of the children and of the 
 mob. King Charles II. used to swear at him, for 
 bringing such a rabble of boys together, to be squeezed 
 to death, while they gaped at his long beard and an- 
 tique habit, and exhorted him to shave and dress like 
 a Christian, to keep the poor ' bairns,' as Dalziel ex- 
 pressed it, out of danger. In compliance with this re- 
 quest, he once appeared at court fashionably dressed, 
 excepting the beard ; but when the king had laughed 
 sufficiently at the metamorphosis, he resumed his old 
 dress, to the great joy of the boys, hi- us ai attendants. 
 — Creichton's Memoirs, p. 102."— Scott. 
 
 { " There is some reason to conjecture, that the r :- 
 venge of the Cameroniaus, if successful, wouldat : 
 been little less sanguinary than that of the royalists. 
 Creichton mentions, that they had erected, in then 
 camp, a high pair of gallows, and prepared a quantity 
 of halters, to haug such prisoners as might fall into 
 their hands; and he admires the forbearance of the 
 king's soldiers, who, when they returned with their 
 prisoners, brought them to the very spot where the 
 gallows stood, and guarded them there, without offer- 
 ing to hang a single individual. Guild, in the ' Bellum 
 >Bo°thueLUanuin,' alludes to the same story, which in 
 
 M standing the merciful orders of the duke of Mon ■ 
 mouth, the cavalry made great slaughter among 
 the fugitives, of whom four hundred were slain. 
 Guild thus expresses himself: — 
 
 Et ni Dux validus tenuisset forte catervas, 
 Vix quisquam profugus vitam servasset inertem : 
 Non audita Ducis verum mandata supremi 
 Omnibus, insequitur fugientes plurima tnrba, 
 Perque agros. passim, trepida formidine captos 
 Obtruncat, saevumque adigit per viscera ferrum. 
 MS. Bellum Bothuelliauum. 
 
 " The same deplorable circumstances are more 
 elegantly bewailed in ' Clyde,' a poem, reprinted 
 in ' Scottish Descriptive Poems,' edited by the 
 late Dr. John Leyden, Edinburgh, 1803 :— 
 
 Where Bothwell's bridge connects the margin steep, 
 And Clyde, below, runs silent, strong, and deep, 
 The hardy peasant, hy oppression driven 
 To battle, deemed his cause the cause of heaven; 
 Unskilled in arms, with useless courage stood, 
 While gentle Monmouth grieved to shed hi* blood 
 But fierce Dundee, inflamed with deadly hate. 
 In vengeance for the great Montrose's fate, 
 Let loose the sword, and to the hero's shade 
 A barbarous hecatomb of victims paid. 
 
 " The object of Claverhouse.'s revenge, assigned 
 by Wilson, is grander, though more remote and 
 less natural, than that in the ballad, which im- 
 putes the severity of the pursuit to his thirst to 
 revenge the death of his cornet and kinsman, at 
 Drumelog ; $ and to the quarrel betwixt Claver- 
 
BALLADS ON THE CIVIL WAKZ 
 
 house and Monmouth, it ascribes, with great 
 naivete, the bloody fate of the latter. Local tra- 
 dition is always apt to trace foreign events to the 
 domestic causes, which are more immediately in 
 the narrator's view. There is said to be another 
 song upon this battle, once very popular, but X 
 have not been able to recover it. This copy is 
 given from recitation. 
 
 " There were two Gordons of Earlstoun, father 
 and son. They were descended of an ancient 
 family in the west of Scotland, and their pro- 
 genitors were believed to have been favourers of 
 the reformed doctrine, and possessed of a trans- 
 lation of the Bible as early as the days of Wick- 
 liffe. William Gordon, the father, was, in 1663, 
 summoned before the privy council, for keeping 
 conventicles in his house and woods. By another 
 act of council, he was banished out of Scotland, 
 but the sentence was never put into execution. 
 In 1667, Earlstoun was turned out of his house, 
 which was converted into a garrison for the 
 fcing's soldiers. He was not in the battle of 
 Bothwell -bridge, but was met, hastening towards 
 it, by some English dragoons, engaged in the 
 pursuit, already commenced. As he refused to 
 surrender, he was instantly slain. — Wilson's His- 
 tory nf Bothwell Rising—Life of Gordon of Earls- 
 ton, in Scottish. Worthies — Wodroru s History, vol. 
 ii. The son, Alexander Gordon of Earlstoun, I 
 suppose to be the hero of the ballad. He was 
 not a Cameronian, but of the more moderate 
 class of Presbyterians, whose sole object was free- 
 dom of conscience, and relief from the oppressive 
 laws against non-conformists. He joined the 
 insurgents shortly after the skirmish at Loudon- 
 hill. He appears to have been active in forward- 
 ing the supplication sent to the duke of Mon- 
 mouth. After the battle, he escaped discovery, 
 by flying into a house at Hamilton, belonging to 
 one of his tenants, and disguising himself in 
 female attire. His person was proscribed, and 
 his estate of Earlstoun was bestowed upon col- 
 onel Theophilus Ogilthorpe, by the crown, first 
 in security for £5000, and afterwards in perpetu- 
 ity.— Fountainhall, p. 390. The same author 
 mentions a person tried at the circuit court, July 
 10, 1683, solely f>r holiing intercourse with 
 Earlstoun, an inter-communed (proscribed) re- 
 bel. As he had been in Holland after the battle 
 of Bothwell, he was probably accessory to the 
 
 rendered probable by 
 insurgent general. — U 
 moirs, p. 61.' 
 
 e character of Hamilton, the 
 al.— Guild's MSS.— Creichton's Me- 
 Scott. ^ 
 
 541 
 
 fr scheme of invasion, which the unfortunate earl 
 of Argyle was then meditating. He was appre- 
 hended upon his return to Scotland, tried, con- 
 victed of treason, and condemned to die ; but his 
 
 i fate was postponed by a letter from the king, 
 appointing him to be reprieved for a month, that 
 
 | he might, in the interim, be tortured for the 
 discovery of his accomplices. The council had 
 
 j the unusual spirit to remonstrate against this 
 illegal course of severity. On November 3, 1653, 
 
 ' he received a farther respite, in hopes he would 
 make some discovery. When brought to the bar, 
 to be tortured (for the king had reiterated his 
 
 ' commands), he, through fear, or distraction, 
 roared like a bull, and laid so stoutly about him, 
 
 j that the hangman and his assistant could hardly 
 master him. At last he fell into a swoon, and, 
 
 I on his recovery, charged general Dalziel and 
 
 j Drummond (violent tories), together with the 
 
 I duke of Hamilton, with being the leaders of the 
 fanatics. It was generally thought that he 
 affected this extravagant behaviour to invalidate 
 all that agony might extort from him concerning 
 his real accomplices. He was sent, first, to Edin- 
 burgh castle, and, afterwards, to a prison upon 
 the Bass island ; although the privy council more 
 than once deliberated upon appointing his im- 
 mediate death. On 22d August, 16S4, Earlstoun 
 was sent for from the Bass, and ordered for exe- 
 cution, 4th November, 1634. He endeavoured 
 to prevent his doom by escape; but was dis- 
 covered and taken, after he had gained the roof 
 of the prison. The council deliberated, whether, 
 in consideration of this attempt, ho was not 
 liable to instant execution. Finally, however, 
 they were satisfied to imprison him in Blackness 
 castle, where he remained till after the Revolu- 
 tion, when he was set at liberty, and his doom of 
 forfeiture reversed by act of parliament. — See 
 Fountainhall, vol. i. pp. 238, 240, 245, 250, 301, 
 302."— Scotfs Minstrelsy.} 
 
 " O BtLLiK, billie, bonnie billie, 
 
 Will ye go to the wood wi' me? 
 We'll ca' our horse hame masterless, 
 
 An' gar them trow slain men are we." 
 
 '* O no, O no !" says Earlstoun, 
 
 " For that's the thing that mauna be ; 
 
 For I am sworn to Bothwell Hill, 
 Where I maun either gae or die." 
 
 So Earlstoun rose in the mornin?, 
 An' mounted by the break o' day ; 
 
542 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 An' he has joined our Scottish lads, 
 As they were marching out the way. 
 
 " Now, fareweel father, and fareweel mother, 
 An' fare ye weel my sisters three ; 
 
 An' fare ye weel my Earlstoun, 
 For thee again I'll never seel" 
 
 So they're awa' to Bothwell Hill, 
 
 An* waly they rode bonnily ! 
 When the duke o' Alonmouth saw them comin'. 
 
 He went to view their company. 
 
 " Ye're welcome, lads," then Monmouth said, 
 " Ye're welcome, brave Scots lads, to me; 
 
 And sae are ye, brave Earlstoun, 
 The foremost o' your company ! 
 
 " But yield your weapons ane an' a' ; 
 
 O yield your weapons, lads, to me ; 
 For, gin ye'll yield your weapons up, 
 
 Ye'se a' gae hame to your country." 
 
 Out up then spalc" a Lennox lad, 
 
 And waly but he spak' bonnily J 
 " I winna yield my weapons up, 
 
 To you nor nae man that I see." 
 
 Then he set up the flag o' red, 
 
 A' set about wi' bonnie blue ; * 
 " Since ye'll no cease, and be at peace, 
 
 See that ye stand by ither true." 
 
 * Blue was the favourite colour of the Cove- 
 nanters ; hence the vulgar phrase of a true blue 
 ■whig. Spalding informs us, that when the first 
 army of Covenanters entered Aberdeen, few or 
 none "wanted a blue ribband ; the lord Gordon, 
 and some others of the marquis (of Huntly's) 
 family had a ribband, when they were dwelling 
 in the town, of a red fresh colour, which they 
 wore in their hats, and called it the royal ribband, 
 as a sign of their love and loyalty to the king. In 
 despite and derision thereof, this blue ribband 
 was worn, and called the Covenanter's ribband, 
 by the haill suldiers of the army, who would not 
 hear of the royal ribband, such was their pride 
 and malice." — Vol. i. p. 123. After the departure 
 of this first army,, the town was occupied by the 
 barons of the royal party, till they were once 
 more expelled by the Covenanters, who plundered 
 the burgh and country adjacent; "no fowl, 
 cock, or hen, left uukilled, the hail house-dogs, 
 
 « They stell'd \ their cannons on the height, 
 And showr'd their shot down in the how 
 An' beat our Scots lads even down, 
 Thick they lay slain on every know. 
 
 As e'er you saw the rain down fa', 
 Or yet the arrow frae the bow, — 
 
 Sae our Scottish lads fell even down, 
 An' they lay slain on every know. 
 
 "O hold your hand," then Monmouth cry'd, 
 " Gi'e quarters to yon men for me 1" 
 
 But wicked Claver'se swore an oath, 
 His cornet's death reveng'd sud be. 
 
 " O hold your hand," then Monmouth cry'd, 
 " If ony thing you'll do for me ; 
 
 Hold up your hand, you cursed Graeme, 
 Else a rebel to our king ye'll be." $ 
 
 messens (i. e. lap-dogs), and whelps, within Aber- 
 deen, killed upon the streets; so that neithei 
 hound, messen, nor other dog, was left alive that 
 they could see : the reason was this,— when the 
 first army came here, ilk captain and soldier had 
 a blue ribband about his craig (i. e. neck;) in 
 despite and derision whereof, when they removed 
 from Aberdeen, some women of Aberdeen, a3 was 
 alledged, knit blue ribbands about their messens' 
 craigs, whereat their soldiers took offence, and 
 killed all their dogs for this very cause."— P. 160. 
 
 I have seen one of the ancient banners of the 
 Covenanters: it was divided into four copart- 
 ments, inscribed with the words, Christ— Cove- 
 nant — King — Kingdom. Similar standards are 
 mentioned in Spalding's curious and minute nar- 
 rative, vol. ii. pp. 182, 245.— Scott. 
 
 -f Stell'd— Planted. 
 
 j It is very extraordinary, that, in April, 1685, 
 Claverhouse was left out of the new commission 
 of privy council, as being too favourable to the 
 fanatics. The pretence was his having married 
 into the Presbyterian family of lord Dundonald. 
 An act of council was also past, regulating the 
 payment of quarters, which is stated by Foun- 
 tainhall to have been done in odium of Claver- 
 house, and in order to excite complaints against 
 him. This charge, so inconsistent with the na- 
 ture and conduct of Claverhouse, seems to have 
 been the fruit of a quarrel betwixt him and the 
 lord high treasurer. — Fountain/tail, vol. i. p. 360. 
 
 That Claverhouse was most unworthily accused 
 &of mitigating the persecution of the Covenanters, 
 
BALLADS ON THE CIVIL WARS. 
 
 543 
 
 Then wicked Claver'se turn'd about, 
 1 wot an angry man was he ; 
 
 And he has lifted up his hat, 
 
 And cry'd, " God bless his majesty ! 
 
 will appear from the following simple, but very 
 affecting narrative, extracted from one of the 
 little publications which appeared soon after the 
 Revolution, while the facts were fresh in the 
 memory of the sufferers. The imitation of the 
 scriptural style produces, in some passages of 
 these works, an effect not unlike what we feel in 
 reading the beautiful book of Ruth. It is taken 
 from the life of Mr. Alexander Peden, * printed 
 about 1720. 
 
 "In the beginning of May, 1685, he came to 
 the house of John Brown and Marion "Weir, 
 whom he married before he went to Ireland, 
 where he stayed all night ; and, in the morning 
 when he took farewell, he came out of the door, 
 saying to himself, ' Poor woman, a fearful morn- 
 ing,' twice over. ' A dark misty morning !' The 
 next morning, between five and six hours, the 
 said John Brown having performed the worship 
 
 * " The enthusiasm of this personage, and of his 
 followers, invested him, as has been already noticed, 
 with prophetic powers ; but hardly any of the stories 
 told of him exceeds that sort of gloomy conjecture of 
 misfortune, which the precarious situation of his sect 
 so greatly fostered. The following passage relates to 
 the battle of Bothwell-bridge : ' That dismal day, I. 1 :.',! 
 of June, 1679, at Bothwell-bridge, when the Lord's 
 people fell and fled before the enemy, he was forty 
 miles distant, near the border, and kept himself retired 
 until the middle of the day, when some friends said to 
 him, ' Sir, the people are waiting for sermon.' He 
 answered, 'Let them go to their prayers; for me, I 
 neither can nor will preach any this day, for our friends 
 are fallen and fled befoie the enemy, at Hamilton, and 
 they are hacking and hewing them down, and their 
 blood is running like water.' The feats of Peden are 
 thus commemorated by Fountainhall, 27th of March, 
 16S0 : — ' News came to the privy council, that about 
 one hundred men, well armed and appointed, had left 
 Ireland, because of a search there for such malcon- 
 tents, and landed in the west of Scotland, and joined 
 with the wild fanatics. The council, finding that they 
 disappointed the forces, by skulking from hole to hole, 
 were of opinion, it were better to let them gather into 
 a body, and draw to a head, and so they would get 
 them altogether in a snare. They had one Mr. Peden, 
 a minister, with them, and one Isaac, who commanded 
 them. They had frighted most part of all the country 
 ministers, so that they durst not stay at their churches, 
 but retired to Edinburgh, or to garrison towns ; and 
 it was sad to see whole shires destitute of preaching, 
 except in burghs. Wherever they came tliey plun- 
 dered arms, and particularly at my lord Dumfriea'i 
 house.'— Fountainhall, vol, i. p. 359."— Scott. 
 
 Then he's awa' to London town, 
 
 Ay e'en as fast as he can dree ; 
 Fause witnesses he has wi' him ta'en, 
 
 An' ta'en Monmouth's head frae his body. 
 
 of God in his family, was going, with a spade in 
 his hand, to make ready some peat ground : the 
 mist being very dark, he knew not until cruel 
 and bloody Claverhouse compassed him with 
 three troops of horse, brought him to his house, 
 and there examined him ; who, though he was 
 a man of a stammering speech, yet answered him 
 distinctly and solidly ; which made Claverhouse 
 to examine those whom he had taken to be his 
 guides through the muirs, if ever they heard him 
 preach ? They answered, 'No, no, he was never 
 a preacher.' He said, ' If he has never preached, 
 meikle he has prayed in his time ; ' he said to 
 John, ' Go to your prayers, for you shall imme- 
 diately die !' When he was praying, Claverhouse 
 interrupted him three times ; one time, that he 
 stopt him, he was pleading that the Lord would 
 spare a remnant, and not make a full end in the 
 day of his anger. Claverhouse said, ' I gave you 
 time to pray, and ye are begun to preach;' he 
 turned about upon his knees, and said, * Sir, you 
 know neither the nature of preaching or praying, 
 that calls this preaching.* Then continued with- 
 out confusion. When ended, Claverhouse said, 
 ' Take goodnight of your wife and children. 
 His wife, standing by with her child in her arms 
 that she had brought forth to him, and another 
 child of his first wife's, he came to her, and said, 
 ' Now, Marion, the day is come, that I told you 
 would come, when I spake first to you of mar- 
 rying me.' She said, ' Indeed, John, 1 can wil- 
 lingly part with you.'—' Then,' he said, ' this is all 
 I desire, I have no more to do but die.' He kissed 
 his wife and bairns, and wished purchased and 
 promised blessings to be multiplied upon them, 
 and his blessing. Claverhouse ordered six sol- 
 diers to shoot him ; the most part of the bullets 
 came upon his head, which scattered his brains 
 upon the ground. Claverhouse said to his wife, 
 'What thinkest thou of thy husband now, 
 woman?' She said, 'I thought ever much of 
 him, and now as much as ever.' He said, 'It 
 were justice to lay thee beside him.' She said, 
 ' If ye were permitted, I doubt not but your cru- 
 eltie would go that length ; but how will ye make 
 answer for this morning's work ?' He said, ' To 
 man I can be answerable; and for God, I will 
 & take him in my own hand.' Claverhouse mounted. 
 
544 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 Alang the brae, beyond the brig, 
 
 Mony brave man lies cauld and still ; 
 
 But lang we'll mind, and sair we'll rue, 
 The bloody battle of Both well Hill. 
 
 his horse, and marched, and left her with the 
 corpse of her dead husband lying there ; she set 
 the bairn on the ground, and gathered his brains, 
 and tied up his head, and straighted his body, 
 and covered him in her plaid, and sat down, and 
 wept over him. It being a very desert place, 
 where never victual grew, and far from neigh- 
 bours, it was some time before any friends came 
 to her ; the first that came was a very fit hand, 
 that old singular Christian woman, in the Cum- 
 merhead, named Elizabeth Menzies, three miles 
 distant, who had been tried with the violent 
 death of her husband at Pentland, afterwards of 
 two worthy sons, Thomas Weir, who was killed 
 at Drumclog, and David Steel, who was suddenly 
 shot afterwards when taken. The said Marion 
 Weir, sitting upon her husband's grave, told me, 
 that before that, she could see no blood but she 
 was in danger to faint ; and yet she was helped 
 to be a witness to all this, without either fainting 
 or confusion, except when the shots were let off 
 her eyes dazzled. His corpse was buried at the 
 end of his house, where he was slain, with this 
 inscription on his grave-stone : — 
 
 In earth's cold bed, the dusty part here lies, 
 Of one who did the earth as dust despise! 
 Here, in this place, from earth tie took departure ; 
 Now, he has got the garland of the martyrs. 
 
 " This murder was committed betwixt six and 
 seven in the morning: Mr. Peden was about ten 
 or eleven miles distant, having been in the fields 
 all night : he came to the house betwixt seven 
 and eight, and desired to call in the family, that 
 he might pray amongst them ; when praying, he 
 said, ' Lord, when wilt thou avenge Brown's 
 blood ? Oh, let Brown's blood be precious in 
 thy sight ! and hasten the day when thou wilt 
 avenge it, with Cameron's, Cargill's, and many 
 others of our martyrs' names ; and oh ! for that 
 day, when the Lord would avenge all their 
 bloods !' When ended, John Muirhead enquired 
 what he meant by Brown's blood ? He said twice 
 over, ' What do I mean ? Claverhouse has been 
 at the Preshil this morning, and has cruelly 
 murdered John Brown; his corpse is lying at 
 the end of his house, and his poor wife sitting 
 weeping by his corpse, and not a soul to speak a 
 word comfortably to her ! ' 
 
 BOTHWELL BRIGG. 
 
 [Modern Ballad. — James Hogg.] 
 
 "Oh what is become o' your leal goodman, 
 That now you are a' your lane ? 
 
 If he has join'd wi' the rebel gang 
 You will never see him again." 
 
 " O say nae ' the rebel gang,' Ladye ; 
 
 It's a term nae heart can thole, 
 For them wha rebel against their God, 
 
 It is justice to control. 
 
 " When rank oppression rends the heart, 
 
 And rules wi' stroke o' death, 
 Wha wadna spend their dear heart's blood 
 
 For the tenets of their faith ? 
 
 While we read this dismal story, we must re- 
 member Brown's situation was that of an avowed 
 and determined rebel, (?) liable as such to mili- 
 tary execution ; so that the atrocity was more 
 that of the times than of Claverhouse. That 
 general's gallant adherence to his master, the 
 misguided James VII., and his glorious death on 
 the field of victory, at Killicrankie, have tended 
 to preserve and gild his memory. He is still re- 
 membered in the Highlands as the most success- 
 ful leader of their clans. An ancient gentleman, 
 who had borne arms for the cause of Stuart, in 
 1715, told the editor, that, when the armies met 
 on the field of battle, at Sheriff-muir, a veteran 
 chief (I think he named Gordon of Glenbucket,) 
 covered with scars, came up to the earl of Mar, 
 and earnestly pressed him to order the High- 
 landers to charge, before the regular army of 
 Argyle had completely formed their line, and at 
 a moment when the rapid and furious onset of 
 the clans might have thrown them into total 
 disorder. Mar repeatedly answered, it was not 
 yet time ; till the chieftain turned from him in 
 disdain and despair, and, stamping with rage, 
 exclaimed aloud, " O for one hour of Dundee '." 
 
 Claverhouse's sword (a strait cut-and-thrust 
 blade) is in the possession of lord Woodhouselee. 
 In Pennycuik-house is preserved the buff-coat 
 which he wore at the battle of Killiecrankie. 
 The fatal shot-hole is under the arm-pit, so that 
 the ball must have been received while his arm 
 i was raised to direct the pursuit. — Scott. 
 
BALLADS ON THE CIVIL WARS. 
 
 545 
 
 " Then saj na ' the rebel gang,' Ladye, 
 
 For it gi'es me muckle pain ; 
 My John went away with Earlston, 
 
 And I'll never see either again." 
 
 •' O wae is my heart for thee, Janet, 
 
 O sair is my heart for thee ! 
 These Covenant men were ill advised ; 
 
 They are fools, you may credit me. 
 
 " "Where 'a a' their boastfu' preaching now, 
 
 Against their king and law, 
 When mony a head in death lies low, 
 
 And mony mae maun fa' ?" 
 
 " Ay, but death lasts no for aye, Ladye, 
 For the grave maun yield its prey ; 
 
 And when we meet on the verge of heaven, 
 We'll see wha are fools that day : 
 
 " We'll see wha looks in their Saviour's face, 
 
 With holiest joy and pride, 
 Whether they who shed his servants' blood, 
 
 Or those that for him died. 
 
 " I wadna be the highest dame 
 
 That ever this country knew, 
 And take my chance to share the doom 
 
 Of that persecuting crew. 
 
 " Then ca' us na ' rebel gang,' Ladye, 
 
 Nor take us fools to be, 
 For theie isna ane of a' that gang, 
 
 Wad change his state wi' thee." 
 
 " Oh weel may you be, my poor Janet, 
 May blessings on you combine! 
 
 The better you are in either state, 
 The less shall I repine ; 
 
 " But wi' your fightings and your faith, 
 
 Your ravings and your rage, 
 There you have lost a leal helpmate, 
 
 In the blossom of his age. 
 
 " And what's to come o' ye, my poor Janet, 
 
 Wi' these twa babies sweet ? 
 Ye ha'e naebody now to work for them, 
 
 Or bring you a rneal o' meat ; 
 
 " It is that which makes my heart sae wae, 
 And gars me, while scarce aware, 
 
 Whiles say the things I wadna say, 
 Of them that can err nae mair." 
 
 ¥ 
 
 Poor Janet kis3'd her youngest babe, 
 And the tears fell on his cheek, 
 
 And they fell upon his swaddling bands, 
 For her heart was like to break. 
 
 " Oh little do I ken, my dear, dear babes, 
 
 What misery's to be mine ! 
 But for the cause we ha'e espoused, 
 
 I will yield my life and thine. 
 
 " Oh had I a friend, as I ha'e nane, — 
 
 For nane dare own me now, — 
 That I might send to Bothwell Brigg, 
 
 If the killers wad but allow, 
 
 " To lift the corpse of my brave John : 
 I ken where they will him find, — 
 
 He wad meet his God's foes face to face, 
 And he'll ha'e nae wound behind." 
 
 " But I went to Bothwell Brigg, Janet, — 
 There was nane durst hinder me, — 
 
 For I wantit to hear a' I could hear, 
 And to see what I could see ; 
 
 "And there I found your brave husband, 
 
 As viewing the dead my lane ; 
 He was lying in the very foremost rank, 
 
 In the midst of a heap o' slain." 
 
 Then Janet held up her hands to heaven, 
 And she grat, and she tore her hair, 
 
 "O sweet Ladye, dear Ladye, 
 Dinna tell me ony mair ! 
 
 " There is a hope will linger within 
 
 When earthly hope is vain, 
 But, when ane kens the very worst, 
 
 It turns the heart to stane !" 
 
 " ' Oh wae is my heart, John Carr,' said I, 
 
 * That I this sight should see !' 
 But when I said these waefu' words, 
 
 He lifted his eyne to me. 
 
 " * art thou there my kind Ladye, 
 
 The best o' this warld's breed, 
 And are you ganging your leifou lane, 
 
 Amang the hapless dead ? ' 
 
 " ' I ha'e servants within my ca', John Carr, 
 
 And a chariot in the dell, 
 And if there is ony hope o' life, 
 
 I will carry you hame mysell.' 
 2m 
 

 
 
 
 546 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 " ' Lady, there is nae hope o' life ; ^ Then Janet she fell at her Lady's feet. 
 
 
 
 And what were life to me ? 
 
 And she claspit them ferventlye, 
 
 
 
 Wad ye save me frae the death of a man, 
 
 And she steepit them a' wi' the tears o' joy, 
 
 
 
 To hang on a gallows tree ? 
 
 Till the good Lady wept to aeo. 
 
 
 
 " ' I ha'e nae hame to fly to now, 
 
 " Oh ye are an angel sent frae heaven, 
 
 
 
 Nae country, and nae kin ; 
 
 To lighten calamitye ! 
 
 
 
 There is not a door in Fair Scotland 
 
 For, in distress, a friend or foe 
 
 
 
 Durst open to let me in. 
 
 Is a' the siime to thee. 
 
 
 
 *' ' But I ha'e a loving wife at hame, 
 
 " If good deeds count in heaven, Ladye, 
 
 
 
 And twa babies, dear to me ; 
 
 Eternal bliss to share, 
 
 
 
 They ha'e naebody now that dares favour them, 
 
 Ye ha'e done a deed will save your soul. 
 
 
 
 And of hunger they a' maun dee. 
 
 Though ye should never do mair." 
 
 
 
 " ' Oh for the sake of thy Saviour dear, 
 
 " Get up, get up, my kind Janet, 
 
 
 
 Whose mercy thou hopest to share, 
 
 But never trow tongue or pen, 
 
 
 
 Dear Lady, take the sackless things 
 
 That a' the warld are lost to good, 
 
 
 
 A wee beneath thy care 1 
 
 Except the Covenant men." 
 
 
 
 "'A lang farewell, my kind Ladye I 
 
 Wha wadna ha'e shared that Lady's joy 
 
 
 
 O'er weel I ken thy worth. 
 
 When watching the wounded hind, 
 
 
 
 Gae send me a drink o' the water o' Clyde, 
 
 Rather than those of the feast and the danoe. 
 
 
 
 For my last drink on earth.' 
 
 Which her kind heart resign'd ? 
 
 
 
 " dinna tell ony mair, Ladye, 
 
 Wha wadna rather share that Lady's fate, 
 
 
 
 For my heart is cauld as clay ; 
 
 When the stars shall melt away, 
 
 
 
 There is a spear that pierces here, 
 
 Than that of the sternest anchorite, 
 
 
 
 Frae every word ye say." 
 
 That can naething but graen and pray ? 
 
 
 
 " He wasna fear'd to dee, Janet, — 
 
 
 
 
 For he gloried in his death, 
 
 
 
 
 And wish'd to be laid with those who had bled 
 
 
 
 
 For the same endearing faith. 
 
 Wfyz $ff augjfo* if ©toiwiUate. 
 
 
 
 " There were three wounds in his boardly breast, 
 
 
 
 
 And his limb was broke in twain, 
 
 [" This is the worst specimen of the truth of 
 
 
 
 And the sweat ran down wi' his red heart's 
 
 Scottish song that is to be met with ; two events 
 
 
 
 Wrung out by the deadly pain. [blood, 
 
 being jumbled together in it, that happened at 
 the distance of many years from each other. 
 
 
 
 " 1 row'd my apron round his head, 
 
 These seem to be, the battle of Auldearn, won 
 
 
 
 For fear my men should tell, 
 
 by Montrose and the clans; and that on the 
 
 
 
 And I hid him in my Lord's castle, 
 
 plains of Cromdale, in Strathspey, where the two 
 
 
 
 And I nursed him there mysell. 
 
 colonels, Buchan and Cannon, suffered them- 
 selves to be surprised in their beds by Sir Thomas 
 
 
 
 " And the best leeches in a' the land 
 
 Livingston, and, though at the head of 1500 
 
 
 
 Have tended him as he lay, 
 
 brave Highlanders, utterly defeated and scatter- 
 
 
 
 And he never has lack'd my helping hand, 
 
 ed. This latter is the only battle on record that 
 
 
 
 By night nor yet by day. 
 
 ever was really fought at Cromdale. It appears, 
 therefore, more than probable, that on that 
 
 
 
 " I durstna tell you before, Janet, 
 
 action the original song has been founded ; for 
 
 
 
 For I fear'd his life was gane, 
 
 the first twenty lines contain an exact and true 
 
 
 
 But now he's sae weel, ye may visit him, 
 
 description of that shameful defeat, and these 
 
 
 
 And ye'se meet by yoursells alane." a 
 
 ' ? twenty lines mav be considered as either the 
 
 
 

 
 BALLADS ON THE CIVIL WARS. 54.^ 
 
 
 
 whole or part of the original song ; and as they ■ 
 
 ^ " The English horse they were so rude, 
 
 
 
 are middling good, and the air most beautiful, 
 
 They bath'd their hoofs in Highland blood, 
 
 
 
 they had, of course, become popular. Some 
 
 But our brave clans, they boldly stood 
 
 
 
 bard who had been partial to the clans, fired 
 
 Upon the haughs of Cromdale. 
 
 
 
 with indignation at hearing the disgrace of hia 
 
 
 
 
 countrymen sung all over the land, had added 
 
 " But, alas ! we could no longer stay, 
 
 
 
 to the original verses an overcharged account of 
 
 For o'er the hills we came away, 
 
 
 
 the battle of Auldearn, won by Montrose, their 
 
 And sore we do lament the day 
 
 
 
 favourite leader, against the Whigs : but, by a 
 
 That e'er we came to Cromdale." 
 
 
 
 vile anachronism, he has made it to happen on 
 
 
 
 
 the day following the action at Cromdale, 
 
 Thus the great Montrose did say, 
 
 
 
 whereas it happened just forty -five years before 
 
 " Can you direct the nearest way, 
 
 
 
 it. Although, therefore, I have placed the ; 
 
 For I will o'er the hills this day, 
 
 
 
 ballad among the songs of this early period, I am 
 
 And view the haughs of Cromdale." 
 
 
 
 persuaded it had its origin at a much later date ; 
 
 
 
 
 but it would have been ridiculous to have placed 
 
 " Alas, my lord, you're not so strong, 
 
 
 
 a song that treated wholly of Montrose, subse- j 
 
 Tou scarcely have two thousand men, 
 
 
 
 quent to events that happened long after his ! 
 
 And there's twenty thousand on the plain, 
 
 
 
 death. Yet the part of the ballad that describes ' 
 
 Stand rank and file on Cromdale." 
 
 
 
 the victory won by that hero cannot be the 
 
 
 
 
 original part of it, else the writer would never j 
 
 Thus the great Montrose did say, 
 
 
 
 have placed the action at Cromdale, which is 
 
 "I say, direct the nearest way, 
 
 
 
 almost a day's journey distant from Auldearn, 
 
 For I will o'er the hills this day, 
 
 
 
 and no way connected with the scene of that 
 
 And see the haughs of Cromdale." 
 
 
 
 engagement. It would never do now to sepa- \ 
 
 
 
 
 rate this old and popular song into two parts ; 1 
 
 They were at dinner, every man, 
 
 
 
 but nothing can be more evident, than that one j 
 
 When great Montrose upon them came; 
 
 
 
 part of the song describes the battle won by j 
 
 A second battle then began, 
 
 
 
 Montrose and the clans, on the 4th of May 1645 ; 
 
 Upon the haughs of Cromdale. 
 
 
 
 and the other part, that won by Livingston 
 
 
 
 
 over the clans, on the 1st of May 1G90. The 
 
 The Grant, Mackenzie, and M c Ky, 
 
 
 
 names of the clans mentioned in the song 
 
 Soon as Montrose they did espy, 
 
 
 
 are those that were present with Montrose at 
 
 then, they fought most valiantly ! 
 
 
 
 Auldearn ; the rout that the defeated army 
 
 Upon the haughs of Cromdale. 
 
 
 
 took, together with the number of them that • 
 
 
 
 
 reached Aberdeen, all accord with the truth of 
 
 The M'Donalds they return 'd again, 
 
 
 
 history : so that at whatever period the song was 
 
 The Camerons did their standard join, 
 
 
 
 made, it evidently alludes to that action." 
 
 M'Intosh play'd a bloody game 
 
 
 
 Hogg's Jacobite Relics.] 
 
 Upon the haughs of Cromdale. 
 
 
 
 As I came in by Achindoun, 
 
 The M'Gregors fought like lions bold. 
 
 
 
 A little wee bit frae the town, 
 
 M'Phersons, none could them controul, 
 
 
 
 "When to the Highlands I was bound, 
 
 M'Lauchlins fought, like loyal souls, 
 
 
 
 To view the haughs of Cromdale, 
 
 Upon the haughs of Cromdale. 
 
 
 
 I met a man in tartan trews, 
 
 M'Leans, M'Dougals, and M'Neils, 
 
 
 
 I speer'd at him what was the news; 
 
 So boldly as they took the field, 
 
 
 
 Quo' he, " The Highland army rues, 
 
 And made their enemies to yield, 
 
 
 
 That e'er we came to Cromdale. 
 
 Upon the haughs of Cromdale. 
 
 
 
 " We were in bed, Sir, every man, 
 
 The Gordons boldly did advance, 
 
 
 
 "When the English host upon us came ; 
 
 The Frasers fought with sword and lance, 
 
 
 
 A bloody battle then began, 
 
 The Grahams they made the heads to danoe, 
 
 
 
 Upon the haughs of Cromdale. ^ 
 
 } Upon the haughs of Cromdale. 
 
 
 
S43 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 The loyal Stewarts, with Montrose, 
 So boldly set upon their foes, 
 And brought them down with Highland 
 blows, 
 
 Upon the haughs of Cromdale. 
 
 Of twenty thousand, Cromwell's men, 
 Five hundred fled to Aberdeen, 
 The rest of them lie on the plain, 
 
 Upon the haughs of Cromdale, 
 
 A 
 
 ftwclra^to. 
 
 [This is sung to the well-known tune of 
 " Cauld Kail in Aberdeen." It appears to 
 allude to a festival held at Auchindown on the 
 Chevalier de St. George's birth-day.] 
 
 At Auchindown, the tenth of June, 
 Sae merry, blythe, and gay, Sir, 
 
 Each lad and lass did fill a glass, 
 And drink a health that day, Sir. 
 
 We drank a health, and nae by stealth, 
 •Mang kimmers bright and lordly : 
 
 "King James the Eighth! for him well 
 fight, 
 And down wi' cuckold Geordie I" 
 
 We took a spring, and danc'd a fling, 
 
 And wow but we were vogie ! 
 We didna fear, though we lay near 
 
 The Campbells, in Stra'bogie ; 
 
 Nor yet the loons, the black dragoons, 
 
 At Fochabers a-raising: 
 If they durst come, we'd pack them home, 
 
 And send them to their grazing. 
 
 We fear'd no harm, and no alarm, 
 No word was spoke of dangers ; 
 
 We join'd the dance, and kiss'd the lance, 
 And swore us foes to strangers, 
 
 To ilka name that dar'd disclaim 
 
 Our Jamie and his Charlie. 
 " King James the Eighth I for him well 
 fight, 
 
 And down the cuckold carlie I" 
 

 
 
 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 
 & The haughty chieftain of Rossdhu 
 
 
 
 %^z 3Eaifo of Q&hto Jf naiw. 
 
 Arous'd his clansmen near and far, 
 "With Lennox men, and Lomonds too, 
 To turn aside clan Alpine's war. 
 
 
 
 [Modern Ballad.— Peter M' Arthur.— For 
 
 They meet ! and hark, the slogan cry ! 
 
 
 
 an account of the battle of Glen Fruin, fought, 
 
 Ah, who that onset could withstand ? 
 
 
 
 in the reign of James VI., between the M'Gre- 
 
 The Lennox men disordered fly, 
 
 
 
 gors and Colquhouns, aided by the men of Len- 
 
 And Lomonds too, a bleeding band. 
 
 
 
 nox and Lomond, see Browne's History of the 
 
 
 
 
 Highland Clans, or Sir "Walter Scott's introduc- 
 
 The stainless banner of Rosshdu 
 
 
 
 tion to the annotated edition of his celebrated 
 
 Still floated o'er brave warrior men, 
 
 
 
 novel of Rob Roy.] 
 
 And still with dauntless hearts, and true, 
 They barr'd the pass by Fruin's Glen. 
 
 
 
 The last lone echo dies away, 
 
 The claymore gleamed with reddening flash, 
 
 
 
 Among yon mountains faint and far, 
 
 The battle-axes rose and fell, 
 
 
 
 And the dim shades of sinking day 
 
 Full on each foe with deadly crash, 
 
 
 
 Light up the silent evening star. 
 
 And hark ! the pibroch's mingling yell ! 
 
 
 
 No beacon light streams down the pass, 
 
 But now the sweeping wild array 
 
 
 
 We hear no answering pibroch ring, 
 
 Of Alpine's bold unbroken band, 
 
 
 
 In silence o'er the mountain mass, 
 
 Scattered their foes, as ocean's spray 
 
 
 
 See the pale moon in beauty hung, 
 
 Is broken on the rocky strand. 
 
 
 
 Reflecting in the lake beneath 
 
 And upward from the darksome glen, 
 
 
 
 Her trembling rays of silvery sheen ; 
 
 M'Gregors' shouts of triumph rose, 
 
 
 
 And the night wind with balmy breath 
 
 And the wild shrieks of dying men 
 
 
 
 Scarce stirs the brackens bending green. 
 
 Beneath the brands of conquering foes. 
 
 
 
 Ah ! who could think that scenes so fair 
 
 Now, where the Fruin glides away 
 
 
 
 E'er trembled to the warrior's tread, 
 
 Around yon rocks and withered fern, 
 
 
 
 Or that red heather blooming there 
 
 Rossdhu again, in bold array, 
 
 
 
 "Waves o'er the warrior's narrow bed. 
 
 Is mustering all his clansmen stern. 
 
 
 
 Here Alpine's bands from wild glens stray, 
 
 And well they fought, as men should fight, 
 
 
 
 Triumphant wav'd their banner'd pine, 
 
 Who strike for home and all that 's dear i 
 
 
 
 As on they swept on forray fray, 
 
 But who could e'er withstand the might 
 
 
 
 Adown Glen Fruin's deep ravine • ' 
 
 f Of Alpine in his wild career ? 
 
 
 
550 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 Like torrent swollen by wlntery rain, 
 When tangled boughs impede its course, 
 
 Bursting its barrier bold in twain, 
 It sweeps the vale with treble force ; 
 
 So burst elan Alpine's bands away ; 
 
 But far more dire than wintery flood, 
 They left the wailings of dismay, 
 
 And smouldering hamlets streak'd with 
 blood. 
 
 Even they with wondering look who staid* 
 Apart, to view the deadly strife, 
 
 Beneath brown Dougald's ruthless blade 
 They cried, but cried in vain for life i 
 
 Where Fruin murmurs to the dell, 
 
 Clear winding from yon mountains lone, 
 
 The traveller reads their mournful tale, 
 But time hath scathed the lettered stone. 
 
 Even yet, tradition tells the tale, 
 
 And points the place near yonder height, 
 Where mournful sounds and shadows pale 
 
 Glide through the solemn gloom of night. 
 
 That morn the sun rose redly rolled 
 In crimson clouds foreboding woe, 
 
 That morn Inch Murrin's seer foretold 
 His kinsman dear of coming woe ; 
 
 And when the sun looked o'er Glengyle, 
 On Lomond's hills in evening 'rayed, 
 
 Clan Alpine bore Glen Luss's spoil, 
 O'er the deep lake by Inversnaid. 
 
 And many a banner by his blaze 
 Was mirror'd in the lake below ; 
 
 And hark ! the shouts of joy they raise 
 O'er the rich spoil and conquer'd foe. 
 
 * Near the scene of the contest, a large stone 
 is shown, which receives the appellation of the 
 Minister's Stone. It is said to have derived this 
 name from the murder of a party of students at 
 the spot by one of the M'Gregors, a man of great 
 size and strength, named Dugald Ciar-Mhor, or 
 the Mouse-Coloured. It is but right to say, that 
 another account of the matter frees Dugald 
 from the imputation of this crime. He was the 
 immediate and indubitable ancestor of Rob 
 Boy. 
 
 The mist wreathes vail'd Ben Lomond's 
 brow, 
 
 The sun withdrew his lurid light, 
 The lake's broad waves with sullen flow 
 
 Heaved to the moaning winds of night ; 
 
 And many a coronach arose, 
 
 And many a shriek of wild despair 
 
 Awoke the weary night's repose, 
 Re-echoing through the starless air. 
 
 But when the dawn from sable night 
 Came heralding the chief of day, 
 
 They said it was a mournful sight- 
 Glen Luss in smouldering ruins lay. 
 
 The pines were skaith'd by Bannochraie, 
 Its vaulted halls and alder bowers, 
 
 You'd thought that time and stern decay 
 Had pass'd for ages o'er its towers. 
 
 The eagle sailed the air on high, 
 To stoop upon the warrior slain, 
 
 Till startled by the widow's cry, 
 He sought his eyried home again. 
 
 For still the widow's cry arose, 
 
 And the lone orphan's piteous wail, 
 
 As from the dead in dull repose * 
 The night withdrew her sable vail. 
 
 Each matron true unbound the plaid, f 
 That wrapt her silent warrior's breast, 
 
 A bloody token — " Thus," they said, 
 " Shall speak the woes of the oppress'd. 
 
 f Eleven score women, widows of those slain in 
 the engagement on the side of the Colquhouns, 
 attired themselves in deep mourning, and ap- 
 peared before the king, James VI., at Stirling, 
 and demanded vengeance on the heads of the 
 M'Gregors. To make the deeper impression on 
 those to whom this supplication was made, each 
 of the petitioners bore on a spear her husband's 
 bloody shirt. The king was much affected. 
 Measures of extreme severity were resorted to ; 
 the execution of these measures was assigned to 
 the earls of Argyle and Athol ; the very name 
 of M'Gregor was abolished by an act of the 
 Privy Council, Act 1603, and the chief of the 
 clan was executed at Edinburgh. 
 

 
 
 APPENDIX. 551 
 
 
 
 " Ere night in Stirling's royal towers, $ 
 
 t 
 
 
 
 King James shall hear the widow's tale, 
 
 
 
 
 Ere morn, in fair Loch Katrine's bowers, 
 
 IffliUS 3Jem 
 
 
 
 JRed Alpine's chief shall tremble pale." 
 
 
 
 They said it was an earie sight, 
 
 [Modern Ballad by James Lemon, author of 
 
 
 
 Like dusky shadows soil'd with gore ! 
 
 a volume of Poems and Songs, published at Glas- 
 
 
 
 They glided in the dawning light, 
 
 gow, in 1840.] 
 
 
 
 Adown the glen to Lomond's shore. 
 
 
 
 
 Away, away, o'er waves and spray, 
 
 Titers sits a lady in yon ha', 
 
 
 
 They sail'd by green Inch Murran's isle, 
 
 And the tear drap dims her e'e, 
 
 
 
 Ere yet the sun with reddening ray 
 
 She has gowd an' sil'er at her ca', 
 
 
 
 Had shone upon its ruin'd pile. 
 
 But nae joy or peace has she. 
 
 
 
 Away, away, o'er waves and spray, 
 
 The rose shone red upon her cheek, 
 
 
 
 They lighted on the Endrick strand, 
 
 An* the sun frae her e'e broo, 
 
 
 
 By ancient cairn, and mountain grey, 
 
 But the rose has left the lily meek, 
 
 
 
 They crossed the dreary bleak moorland, 
 
 An' it is witherin' too. 
 
 
 
 To where yon castle braves the north, 
 
 Then up and spoke her sister May, 
 
 
 
 With clouded brows and warlike frown, 
 
 " ! mother, mother dear, 
 
 
 
 Encircled by the winding Forth, 
 
 To-morrow is Jean's bridal day, 
 
 
 
 In Stirling's old romantic town. 
 
 An' I dream'd 1 saw her bier." 
 
 
 
 They sought king James; he heard their 
 cause, 
 
 " ! haud your tongue, ye croakin' thing. 
 My malison on thee ! 
 
 
 
 And when he heard their tale of grief, 
 
 To-morrow eve, the bells shall ring, 
 
 
 
 " Avenge," s?id he, " our broken laws, 
 
 For the bride o' Louden lea." 
 
 
 
 And give the widow's woes relief." 
 
 " ! mother dear, I slept again, 
 
 
 
 With reddening brow and flashing eye, 
 
 I'm wae to tell it thee, 
 
 
 
 He grasped the hilt of his good blade, 
 
 I saw Sir Randal, who was slain, 
 
 
 
 Yet with demeanour calm and high, 
 
 By Louden's treachery. 
 
 
 
 Thus to bis western chiefs he said, 
 
 " An* Louden gave our lady Jean 
 
 
 
 " Athol, Argyle, I hold you bound, 
 
 A price is on M'Gregor's head; 
 With unsheathed sword and bloody hound, 
 
 TJjto his rival there, 
 Who stood beside his new grave green, 
 Wi' his last look o' despair. 
 
 
 
 Avenge the widow and the dead S" 
 
 " An' then I heard Death, mother dear, 
 Pronounce the marriage creed, 
 
 
 
 And dearly has M'Gregor paid, 
 
 His altar was Sir Randal's bier, 
 
 
 
 By name proscribed and haunted band, 
 
 Where Jean and he were wed." 
 
 
 
 For dark Glen Fruin's lawless raid, — 
 
 
 
 
 Mo more he rules Loch Katrine's strand. 
 
 Then up an' spoke her father fierce, 
 
 An' angry man was he, 
 " ! out upon thee ; fause, fause one, 
 
 Ye lee, it eanna be ! 
 
 
 
 ; 
 
 " Thy soul it is the grave o' truth, 
 
 Thy heart its dull tomb stane, 
 Thy mouth the oracle o' death, 
 i Thy sel' its very fane 1 
 
 
 
 
 
552 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 " G«e dress, gae drees thy sister Jean 
 In the sma' white satin fine ; 
 
 An' doff that star, thou fause, fause one, 
 For it may ne'er be thine. 
 
 " Gae doff, gae doff, that coronet, 
 
 An' crown thy sister Jean ; 
 For weel I read what thou'd be at 
 
 Wi' thy invented dream. 
 
 " But I ha'e sworn the maiden's snood 
 
 Thy coronet shall be ; 
 For as I live, an' by the rood, 
 
 A maiden thou shalt dee." 
 
 Ye've seen the sun in early spring 
 
 Smile o'er the flowery lea, 
 But ere auld time could lift his wing, 
 
 The tear stood in its e'e. 
 
 An' O ! 'twas sae wi' lady May, 
 She blush'd and Wept again ; 
 
 " It's no for my ain doom I'm wae, 
 But 1 my sister Jean." 
 
 *' Away, away, thou evil ane, 
 
 To-morrow at the fane, 
 The linkin' o' their hands in ane 
 
 Shall widen my domain." 
 
 To-morrow came, in sad sad wae, 
 
 May stole to lady Jean ; 
 They daurna 6peak, but fareweel aye 
 
 Seems weilin' frae their e'en. 
 
 To-morrow came, wi' claspin's fine 
 They deck'd young lady Jean ; 
 
 Like an angel newly left its shrine, 
 She strangely gazed on men. 
 
 O ! secret love, what canst thou be, 
 Thou'rt not a thing o' earth, 
 
 Thou'rt pure as the light o' heaven hie, 
 Whose rays have gi'en thee birth. 
 
 Syne frae the castle barricade, 
 
 Young May in tears alane, 
 Look'd on the wedding cavalcade, 
 
 As on some funeral train. 
 
 The father and the mother there, 
 
 In silk geir flaunted gay, 
 Wi' mony an idle laugh and jeer 
 
 They join'd in the deray. 
 
 While mid the glare o' trappin's rare, 
 The once blythe sprightly Jean, 
 
 Wi' listless air, and vacant stare, 
 Ne'er wist what they could mean. 
 
 Until they pass'd the lanely grove, 
 Where young Lord Randal fell, 
 
 Her e'e met Louden's — not in love- 
 But who that look may tell ? 
 
 Until they came to the kirk-yard, 
 
 An' at Sir Randal's grave, 
 Her steed stood still, nor whip nor word 
 
 Could mak' him onward move. 
 
 Ye've seen the red o' the pure rose leaf 
 
 Lost in its purer white, 
 So her fair cheek a moment brief 
 
 Blush'd like the morning light. 
 
 An' doon she drapp'd frae her saddle bow, 
 
 And knelt by Randal's tomb, 
 Saying, " Noo, my love, I've kept my vow, 
 
 1 tak' me to thy home." 
 
 " Away," cried Louden lea, " Away 
 
 An' bring the priest I crave; 
 What better altar could we ha'e 
 
 Than a vile rival's grave ?" 
 
 The priest he came— the ritual flame, 
 
 Alas! was her death-light; 
 The priest he came — her eye's last gleam 
 
 Had set in death's dark night. 
 
 Noo, Louden lea, the cup o' wae 
 
 Ye measured out in scorn, 
 To thee is meted — frae this day 
 
 Heart-stricken ye shall mourn. 
 
 An' aye I hear a loun voice say, 
 
 " An' ye her parents too, 
 Shall sadly rue this waef'u' day, 
 
 The dregs shall fa' to you." 
 
 An' lady May, in weeds o' wae, 
 
 Mourns aiten by their grave, 
 That her proud parents scorned sae 
 
 The warnin' Heaven gave. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 553 
 
 €&tetfee, 
 
 OB, THE HAP OF HIND HALBERT. 
 
 [Modern Ballad, founded on an historical in- 
 cident.— Thomas Dicic] 
 
 Thou blackbird in green Glrtlee, 
 
 Sing on thy fav'rite sang ; 
 Till drap the tear frae gloamin's e*e 
 
 The wild wood flowers amang- 
 
 And when amang the leaves and flowers, 
 
 That crystal tear shall fa', 
 'Twill bathe the bell by Monkland's towers, 
 
 The daisy by Woodha'. 
 
 Beside the roots that nurse thy birk, 
 
 Beneath its branches' shade, 
 There gapes a grave, that in the mirk 
 
 O' night twa brithers made. 
 
 Their sister was a bonnie lass ; 
 
 A bonnie lad she lo'ed ; 
 And aft amang the planting's grass, 
 
 This youthfu' couple wooed. 
 
 O fond, fond were their looks o' love ; 
 
 Dear, dear the words they spake; 
 As nought on earth, or even above, 
 
 The vows they pledged could shake. 
 
 But though the simmer's sun be warm, 
 
 For aye it canna shine ; 
 *Tis follow'd soon by autumn's storm, 
 
 Syne winter's cauld and pine. 
 
 Sae love did in Hind Halbert's breast 
 
 By slow degrees decay ; 
 Sweet Elis mark'd his change, distrest. 
 
 But wistna why 'twas sae. 
 
 Aye shyer was he when they met, 
 And aye to part mair keen ; 
 
 And ilka future tryste he set, 
 Had langer aye between. 
 
 O meikle did she weep and wail, 
 And meikle sigh'd and said : 
 
 She tauld her brithers a" the tale, 
 And askit a' their aid. 
 
 Now they ha'e graith't them wond'rous 
 grand, 
 
 And sought Hind Halbert's bower ; 
 They kyth'd him breadth of Scottish land, 
 
 And yellow gowd for dower, 
 
 Gin he wad soothe her bosom's strife, 
 
 And wed their sister dear; 
 But her he wadna make his wife, 
 
 For rank nor warld's gear. 
 
 Then they're awa' to green Girtlee 
 
 As fast as they may gang ; 
 And diggit by the birken tree 
 
 A grave baith deep and lang. 
 
 Syne aff they hied to E'nburgh town, 
 
 Wi' meikle rage and wrath: 
 Before the judge for Scotland's crown 
 
 They've ta'en a deadly aith. 
 
 And there they've sworn the faithless knavj 
 
 Design 'd, when day was gane, 
 To slay their sister, and that grave 
 
 Had made to bury her in. 
 
 Our gude king sat in Halyrood, 
 
 Drinkin' the bluid-red wine; 
 When he received a letter broad 
 
 That his ain judge did sign. 
 
 "When he had read the foremost line, 
 
 His brow grew red wi' ire : 
 When he had read the hindmost iine, 
 
 He flang't into the fire. 
 
 And " Bind the traitoY fast," he says, 
 
 " And quick to justice bring ; 
 For he wad wrang a bonnie lass, 
 
 Wad rebel against his Icing." 
 
 The sea is wide, but o'er its tide, 
 
 The youth is far awa* ; 
 And friends he left o' hope bereft, 
 
 Are laith and lauely a'. 
 
 When years o' mingled grief and glee 
 
 Had come and wearied past, 
 King James wad journey forth to see 
 
 His islands in the west. 
 His train twined down by green Girtlee, 
 
 In Monkland's towers to rest. 
 

 
 
 
 
 554 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 It's up and sang the blackibird, { 
 
 And he sang loud and clear ; 
 And aye the o'erword chiefly heard, 
 
 Was " Judge na till ye speer. 
 
 k " Not so the usage I recetv'd, 
 
 When happy in my father's hall ; 
 No faithless husband then me griev'd, 
 No chilling fears did me appal. 
 
 
 
 " ! wae on fause arbitriment — 
 On fause accusers wae : 
 
 They're banished the innocent, 
 And let the guilty gae." 
 
 " I rose up with the cheerful morn. 
 
 No lark more blithe, no flow'r more gay ; 
 
 And like the bird that haunts the thorn, 
 So merrily sung the live-long day. 
 
 
 
 The monarch turn'd him round about, 
 
 Wi' sorrow in his look ; 
 And vow'd in midst o' a' his euite, 
 
 By cross and haly book ! 
 
 " If that my beauty is but small, 
 Among court ladies all despis'd ; 
 
 Why didst thou rend it from that hall, 
 Where (scornful earl) it well was priz'd ? 
 
 
 
 He gar'd gae hang the brithers bauld, 
 Wi' a' their perjur'd band: 
 
 And soon Hind Halbert was recall'd 
 Frae far aff foreign land. 
 
 " And when you first to me made suit, 
 How fair I was you oft would say ! 
 
 And, proud of conquest — pluck'd the fruit, 
 Then left the blossom to decay. 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 " Yes, now neglected and despis'd 
 The rose is pale — the lily's dead — 
 
 But he that once their charms so priz'd, 
 Is sure the cause those charms are fled. 
 
 
 
 [This is a production of W. J. Meikxe, the 
 translator of the Lusiad. It first appeared in 
 Evans's Collection. — Cumnor is near Abington, 
 in Berkshire. — The history of the unhappy 
 Countess of Leicester, who was murdered there 
 in Queen Elizabeth's time, may he seen at large 
 in Ashmole's Antiquities of Berkshire, in whose 
 time the ruins of the hall were still standing. — 
 Scott, in his romance of " Kenilworth," has 
 immortalized the story.] 
 
 " For know, when sick'ning grief doth prey, 
 And tender love *s repaid with scorn, 
 
 The sweetest beauty will decay — 
 
 What flow'ret can endure the storm ? 
 
 " At court I'm told is beauty's throne, 
 Where every lady 's passing rare ; 
 
 That eastern flow'rs, that shame the sun, 
 Are not so glowing, not so fair. 
 
 
 
 The dews of summer night did fall, 
 The moon (sweet regent of the sky) 
 
 Silver'd the walls of Cumnor Hall, 
 And many an oak that grew thereby. 
 
 " Then, earl, why didst thou leave the beds 
 Where roses and where lilies vie, 
 
 To seek a primrose, whose pale shades 
 
 Must sicken — when those gaudes are by ? 
 
 
 
 Now nought was heard beneath the skies, 
 (The sounds of busy life were still,) 
 
 Save an unhappy lady's sighs, 
 
 That issued from that lonely pile. 
 
 " 'Mong rural beauties I was one, 
 
 Among the fields wild flow'rs are fair ; 
 
 Some country swain might me have won, 
 And thought my beauty passing rare. 
 
 
 
 " Leicester," she cried, " is this thy love 
 " That thou so oft has sworn to me, 
 
 To leave me in this lonely grove, 
 Immur'd in shameful privity? 
 
 " But, Leicester, (or I much am wrong,) 
 Or 'tis not beauty lures thy vows ; 
 
 Rather ambition's gilded crown 
 
 Makes thee forget thy humble spouse. 
 
 
 
 " No more thou comest with lover's speod, 
 
 Thy once beloved bride to see ; 
 But be ehe alive, or be she dead, 
 
 I fuir, stern earl, 's the same to thee. i 
 
 " Then, Leicester, why, again I plead, 
 
 (The injur'd surely may repine,) 
 Why didst thou wed a country maid, 
 ; When some fair princess might be tiliue ? 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 appendix. 555 
 
 " "Why didst thou praise my humble charms, 4 
 
 ( The mastiff howl'd at village door, 
 
 
 And, oh ! then leave them to decay ? 
 
 The oaks were shatter'd on the green ; 
 
 
 Why didst thou win me to thy arms, 
 
 Woe was the hour — for never more 
 
 
 Then leave me to mourn the live-long day ? 
 
 That hapless countess e'er was seen. 
 
 
 " The village maidens of the plain 
 
 And in that manor now no more 
 
 
 Salute me lowly as they go ; 
 
 Is cheerful feas t and sprightly ball ; 
 
 
 Envious they mark my silken train, 
 
 For ever since that dreary hour 
 
 
 Nor think a countess can have woe. 
 
 Have spirits haunted Cumnor Hall. 
 
 
 " The simple nymphs ! they little know, 
 
 The village maids, with fearful glance, 
 
 
 How far more happy 's their estate — 
 
 Avoid the ancient moss-grown wall ; 
 
 
 ■ — To smile for joy — than sigh for woe — 
 
 Nor ever lead the merry dance, 
 
 
 — To be content — than to be great. 
 
 Among the groves of Cumnor Hall. 
 
 
 " How far less blest am I than them ? 
 
 Full many a traveller oft hath sigh'd, 
 
 
 Daily to pine and waste with care ! 
 
 And pensive wept the countess' fall, 
 
 
 Like the poor plant, that from its stem 
 
 As wand'ring onwards they've espied 
 
 
 Divided — feels the chilling air. 
 
 The haunted tow'rs of Cumnor Hall. 
 
 
 ; " Nor (cruel earl !) can I enjoy 
 
 
 
 
 The humble charms of solitude ; 
 
 
 
 Tour minions proud my peace destroy, 
 By sullen frowns or pratings rude. 
 
 ®fo* Battle if C@ndj)k» 
 
 
 " Xast night, as sad I chanc'd to stray, 
 The village death-bell smote my ear; 
 
 [By John Forbes, Schoolmaster at Mary, 
 Culter, upon Deeside.] 
 
 
 They wink'd aside, and seem'd to say, 
 
 Muks ye Heighlands, and murn ye Leighlands, 
 
 
 ' Countess, prepare — thy end is near.' 
 
 I trow ye ha'e meikle need ; 
 For the bonnie burn of Corichie 
 
 
 " And now, while happy peasants sleep, 
 
 Has run this day wi' bleid ? * 
 
 
 Here I sit lonely and forlorn ; 
 
 
 
 No one to soothe me as I weep, 
 
 The hopeful laird o' Finliter, 
 
 
 Save Philomel on yonder thorn. 
 
 Erie Huntly's gallant son, 
 For the love he bare our beauteous quine, 
 
 
 " My spirits flag — my hopes decay — 
 
 His gart fair Scotland mone. 
 
 
 Still that dread death-bell smites my ear; 
 
 
 
 And many a boding seems to say, 
 
 He has braken his ward in Aberdene 
 
 
 ' Countes3, prepare— thy end is near.' " 
 
 Throu dreid o' this fause Murry ; 
 And he 's gather't the gentle Gordon clan, 
 
 
 Thus sore and sad the lady griev'd, 
 
 An' his father auld Huntly. 
 
 
 In Cumnor Hall so lone and drear ; 
 
 
 
 And many a heartfelt sigh she heaVd, 
 
 Fiiin wad he tak' our bonnie guide quine, 
 
 
 And let fall many a bitter tear. 
 
 An' beare hir aire' wi' him ; 
 But Murry's slee wyles spoil't a' the sport, 
 
 
 And ere the dawn of day appear'd, 
 
 An' reft him o' lyfe and him. 
 
 
 In Cumnor Hall so lone and drear, 
 
 
 
 Full many a piercing scream was heard, 
 
 Murry gar't rayse the tardy Merns men, 
 
 
 And many a cry of mortal fear. 
 
 An Angis, an' mony ane mair ; 
 Erie Morton, and the Byres lord Lindsay ; 
 
 
 The death-bell thrice was heard to ring, 
 
 An' campit at the hill o' Fare. 
 
 
 An aerial voice was heard to call, 
 And thrice the raven flapp'd its wing 
 
 
 
 ] * This battle was fought on the Hill of Fair, 
 
 
 Around the tow'rs of Cumnor Hall. i 
 
 1 
 
 K 28th October, 1562. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
556 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 Erie Huntlie came wi' Haddo Gordone, 
 
 An' countit ane thusan men ; 
 But Murry had abien twal hunder, 
 
 Wi' sax score horsemen and ten. 
 
 They soundit the bougills an* the trumpits, 
 An' marchit on in brave array; 
 
 Till the spiers an' the axis forgatherit, 
 An' than did begin the fray. 
 
 The Gordones sae fcrcelie did feeht it, 
 
 Withouten terrer or dreid, 
 That mony o' Hurry's men lay gaspin', 
 
 An' dyit the grund wi' theire bleid. 
 
 Then fause Hurry feingit to flee them, 
 
 An' they pursuit at his backe, 
 Whan the haf o' the Gordones desertit, 
 
 An' turnit wi' Hurray in a crack. 
 
 Wi' hether i' thir bonnits they turnit, 
 The traiter Haddo o' their heid, 
 
 An' olaid theire brithers an' their fatheris, 
 An' spoilit an' left them for deid. 
 
 Than Hurry cried to tak' the auld Gordone, 
 
 An' mony ane ran wi' speid ; 
 But Stuart o' Inchbraik had him stickit, 
 
 An' out gushit the fat lurdane's bleid. 
 
 Than they tuke his twa sones quick an' hale, 
 An' bare them awa' to Aberdene; 
 
 But sair did our guide quine lament 
 
 The waefu' chance that they were tane. 
 
 Erie Hurry lost mony a gallant stout man, 
 The hopefu' laird o' Thornitune, 
 
 Pittera's sons, an Egli's far fearit laird, 
 An' mair to mi unkend, fell doune. 
 
 Erie Huntly mist tenscore o' his bra' men, 
 Sum o' heigh, and sum o' leigh degree; 
 
 Gkeenis youngest son, the pride o' a' the clan, 
 Was ther fun' dead, he widna flee. 
 
 This bloody fecht wis fercely faucht 
 
 Octobris aught an' twinty day, 
 Crystis fyfteen hundred thriscore yeir 
 
 An' twa will mark the deidlie fray. 
 
 But now the day maist waefu' came, 
 That day the quine did grite her fill, 
 
 For Huntlys gallant stalwart son 
 Wis heidit on the heidin hill. 
 
 Fyve noble Gordones wi' him hangit were, 
 
 Upon the samen fatal playne ; 
 Crule Hurry gar't the waefu' quine luke out, 
 
 And see hir lover an' liges slayne. 
 
 I wis our quine had better frinds, 
 I wis our countrie better peice ; 
 
 I wis our lords wid na discord, 
 
 I wis our weirs at hame may ceise. 
 
 W&t Info of &tfjol. 
 
 [From Hr. Kinloch's Collection, where it is 
 said to be taken from the recitation of an Idiot 
 boy in Wishaw.] 
 
 " I am gaing awa', Jeanie, 
 
 I am gaing awa', 
 I am gaing ayont the saut seas, 
 
 I'm gaing sae far awa." 
 
 " Whan will ye marry me, Jamie, 
 
 Whan will ye marry me ? 
 Will ye tak' me to your countrie, — 
 
 Or will ye marry me ?"' 
 
 " How can I marry thee, Jeanie, 
 How can I marry thee ? • 
 
 Whan I've a wife and bairns three, — 
 Twa wad na Weill agree." 
 
 " Wae be to your fause tongue, Jamie, 
 Wae be to your fause tongue ; 
 
 Ye promised for to marry me, 
 And has a wife at hame i" 
 
 " If my wife wad dee, Jeanie, 
 
 And sae my bairns three, 
 I wad tak' ye to my ain countrie, 
 
 And married we wad be." 
 
 " O an your head war sair, Jamie, 
 
 an your head war sair, 
 
 I'd tak' the napkin frae my neck, 
 And tie doun your yellow hair." 
 
 " I ha'e na wife at a', Jeanie, 
 
 1 ha'e na wife at a', 
 
 I ha'e neither wife nor bairns three, 
 I said it to try thee. 
 
 "Blair in Athol is mine, Jeanie, 
 
 Blair in Athol is mine ; 
 Bonnie Dunkel is whare I dwell, 
 
 And the boats o' Garry's mine." 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 551 
 
 [Modern Ballad. — Peter M'Artht/r. — This 
 ballad relates to an extraordinary case of witch- 
 craft which occurred in Renfrewshire shortly 
 before the Revolution of 1688. Sir George Max- 
 well, Bart., of Pollock House, being suddenly 
 seized with grievous pains in his body, was per- 
 suaded that he was labouring under the influence 
 of witchcraft; and a young gipsy woman, who 
 owed some of his tenants a grudge, undertook to 
 point out the culprits who were tormenting him. 
 She accordingly accused several of his tenants, 
 and, to confirm her accusations, contrived, in one 
 or two instances, to secrete small clay models of 
 the human figure, stuck with pins, in the dwellings 
 of the accused. A special commission was issued 
 for the tr.al of the case on the spot; and after 
 a long investigation, at which were present, be- 
 sides some of the lords of justiciary, most of the 
 leading men of Renfrewshire, six or seven unfor- 
 tunate creatures were condemned to be strangled 
 and burned ! — See the case recorded in the His- 
 tory of the Renfrewshire Witches, and also in 
 a work recently published at Paisley, entitled, 
 The Philosophy of Witchcraft, by John Mitchell. 
 — In the ballad here given, the author follows a 
 tale told him by hia grandfather, who heard it, 
 when a boy, from an old man who was butler in 
 Pollock House during the time of the occur- 
 rence.] 
 
 Sir George Maxwell pining lay ; 
 
 And all by his weary bed, 
 The livelong night, and the livelong day, 
 
 They waited to give him aid. 
 
 Weary and worn wi' the burning pain, 
 
 Wi' many a heavy moan ; 
 He wearied till day was past away, 
 
 And he long'd till night was gone. 
 
 They sought the east, and they sought the 
 west, 
 
 To bring Sir George relief; 
 But the tide of life seem'd ebbing fast, 
 
 Then heavy and sore was their grief. 
 
 His hunting hounds hov.l'd to the winds, 
 
 His steeds neigh'd in the stall; 
 The ranger grey, the groom, and hinds, 
 
 Mourn'd round the baronet's hell. 
 
 And aye they spake of bygone years, 
 
 And of all his deeds of yore; 
 And aye o'er their cheeks fell the briny 
 tears, 
 For they thought they should see him 
 no more. 
 
 Thus pass'd the time, till the autumn's 
 breath 
 
 Had wither'd the woodlands brown ; 
 The fading sun from his cloudy path 
 
 Look'd out wi' an angry frown. 
 
 But darker grew his parting ray, 
 
 An' darker lour'd the cloud ; 
 And shorter grew the changing day, 
 
 Till the tempest raved aloud. 
 
 The lightning gleam'd, the thunder roar'd 
 Through the heavens resounding iar; 
 
 The flooding rain in torrents pour'd 
 Through the winter's opening war. 
 
 The Cart came down frae bank to brae, 
 While the broken boughs and leaves 
 
 Arose and fell in the splashing spray, 
 Wi' the harvest's 3catter'd sheaves. 
 
 They looked abroad from the baronet's 
 tower 
 
 On the dreary driving blast, 
 As darkly the night began to lower, 
 
 They thought it was his last. 
 
 All mournfully silent around they stood, 
 
 For the haly man was there ; 
 They felt their despairing grief subdued 
 
 By the sound of his soothing prayer. 
 
 Nor had he paused, when a gentle calm 
 
 Pell o'er the earth and sky ; 
 The woods seem'd sleeping in dusky balm, 
 
 The moon shone fair and high. 
 
 The baronet closed his eyes in rest — 
 
 A repose sae calm and deep, 
 His lady trembling touch'd hi3 breast 
 
 To kuow if 'twas death or sleep. 
 
 The wond'ring lady saw with delight 
 The change an hour had wrought, 
 
 On the wasted cheek of her own time 
 knight, 
 And still as she wond'ring thought, 
 
558 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 A sound was heard at the western door, 
 
 A soft and gentle call ; 
 Like music sweet on the midnight hour, 
 
 It echoed through the hall. 
 
 They open'd the door : a lady pass'd 
 
 With noiseless step and light, 
 'Neath many a curved arch, at last 
 
 To the chamber door of the knight. 
 
 Sir George awoke from an hour's repose — 
 
 'Twas an hour of blissful rest ; 
 He felt relieved from the burning throes 
 
 That had wrung his heaving breast. 
 
 He gaz'd all around with wond'ring eye, 
 
 And said with voice so bland — 
 "Is the troubled day of life gone by ? 
 
 Do I wake in the happy land ? 
 
 " Or do I dream ? — ! it was but a dream, 
 
 For I thought a sti-anger came, 
 Wi' looks more mild than the moon'6 fair beam, 
 
 And she Booth'd my weary frame. 
 
 " She seem'd a thing too fair and bright 
 
 For life's brief troubled 9pan, 
 From another world a soothing light 
 
 For the woes of sinful man." 
 
 Sadly he paus'd, and around he gaz'd, 
 
 Ere a moment came and fled ; 
 On the stranger's form they look'd amaz'd, 
 
 In silence they stood by his bed. 
 
 Her robe was white as the stainless light 
 That beams on the wintry snow ; 
 
 The streamers that play o'er the vault of night 
 Was its thin and graceful flow. 
 
 A dazzling ray, like the mists that play 
 Round the mountain's falling stream, 
 
 When it wreathes afar its silvery spray 
 On the morning's glit'ring beam. 
 
 Around her dwelt; and no dark shade 
 
 Betray 'd that mortal was there; 
 Through the chamber fair she noiseless sped, 
 
 As if borne on the yielding air. 
 
 With soothing smile she look'd the while, 
 
 As she said with heavenly air — 
 " We have pitied Sir George's woeful toil, 
 
 Heaven heard the good man's prayer. 
 
 " On errands of love, for mortal weal, 
 
 I journey from hall to bower; 
 To wreck the wizard's enchanting spell, 
 
 And spoil their revengeful power. 
 
 " Deep in old Crookston's dreariest cell, 
 There a wild and haggar'd band, 
 
 With their incantations dark and fell 
 Sits around the smouldering brand. 
 
 " And there through many a dreary night 
 They have wrought thee woe and scathe; 
 
 But heaven has pitied thy woeful plight, 
 And spoil'd their spiteful wrath." 
 
 And still she stay'd with kindly aid 
 
 Till the dawning morn arose, 
 Till all the pains frae his bosom were fled, 
 
 She soothed his soft repose ; 
 
 Till the twilight grey was waning away, 
 And the thin clouds flitted by ; 
 
 And the silvery stars, with less'ning ray, 
 Grew pale in the azure sky. 
 
 And thrioe she look'd, with lingering gaze, 
 To the bed where the baronet lay ; 
 
 Then wrapt in a veil of the morning haze 
 She glided in silence away. 
 
 All mute and amaz'd the menials stay'd, 
 They knew not whence nor where 
 
 She came or went, but wond'ring, they said, 
 She rais'd them from sad despair. 
 
 Sir George arose, he trod the hall, 
 And stretch'd his friendly hand 
 
 To his trusty servants one and all, 
 But he gave this stern command ; 
 
 To range the country far and near, 
 
 Each dingle and secret bower, 
 Each mouldering vault, and dungeon drear 
 
 Of Crookston's lonely tower: 
 
 To wreck their haunts by craig and scaur, 
 
 To drag the band to light, 
 To bind them fast with lock and bar 
 
 Ere the fall o" the coming night. 
 
 They bound them all with hemp and chain, 
 They've bound them firm and fast; 
 
 ne'er shall they trouble Sir George again, 
 Nor ride on the midnight blast. 
 

 
 
 
 
 appendix. 55 9 
 
 
 For still it is told by legends old, Q " Aye whaur ye find the stoun, oh, Jean, 
 
 
 
 And by wither'd dame and sire, 
 
 Press tae your kindly han' ; 
 
 
 
 When they sit secure from the wiutei 's cold 
 
 I wadna gi'e ae breath o' thee 
 
 
 
 All around the evening fire, 
 
 For a' else on my Ian'. 
 
 
 
 How the fagots blaz'd on the gallow green, 
 
 " Tour couthie words dreep medicine, 
 
 
 
 Where they hung the witches high ; 
 
 Your very touch can heal ; 
 
 
 
 And their smouldering forms were grimly 
 
 An' oh, your e'e does mair for me 
 
 
 
 seen, 
 
 Than a' our doctor's skill !" 
 
 
 
 Till darkened the lowering sky. 
 
 She leant athwart his burnin' brow, 
 
 Her tears lap lichtly doun ; 
 Beneath her saft, saft, dautin' han' 
 
 
 
 lEr^rtoy::^ Sst£* 
 
 Knockespock sleepit soun'. 
 For woman's watch is holiness — 
 
 
 
 [ William Thom of Inverury. — An ancestor of 
 
 In woman's heart, sae rare, 
 
 
 
 James Adam Gordon, Esq., the present laird of 
 
 When a' the warld is cauld an' dark, 
 
 
 
 Knockespock, about a century and a half ago, 
 
 There's licht an' litheness there ! 
 
 
 
 in a second marriage, had taken to wife the 
 
 
 
 
 lovely Jean Leith of Harthill. His affectionate 
 
 What's yon that tints the deep dark brae. 
 
 
 
 lady, notwithstanding their great disparity of 
 
 An' flichers on the green ? 
 
 
 
 age, watched the chamber of her sick husband 
 
 It's no the rays o' morning grey, 
 
 
 
 by day and by night, and would not divide her 
 
 Not yet the bonuie meen ! 
 
 
 
 care with any one. Worn out and wasted from 
 
 
 
 
 continued attendance on her husband, she fell | 
 
 That licht that flares on Benachfe 
 
 
 
 into a sleep, and was awakened only by the 
 
 Knockespock weel may rue; 
 
 
 
 smoke and flames of their burning mansion ; 
 
 Nor Gadie's stream would dit yon gleam 
 
 
 
 the menials had fled— the doom of the dying 
 
 That wraps his dwallin' now. 
 
 
 
 laird and his lady seemed fixed. In her heroic 
 
 
 
 
 affections she bore her husband from the burn- 
 
 But what recks she how fast they flee— 
 
 
 
 ing house— laid him in a sheltered spot, and J 
 
 The heartless hinds are gane ; 
 
 
 
 forced through the very flames for "plaids to ■ 
 
 Are nane to help their listless laird ? 
 
 
 
 wrap him in."] 
 
 Their friendless lady ? Nane ! 
 
 
 
 Ab wastefu' howl o'er earth an' sea, 
 
 Tet woman's love, O, woman's love, 
 
 
 
 If ae gleam o' heaven's licht 
 
 The wide unmeasured sea 
 
 
 
 Might mark the bounds o' Benachie 
 
 Is nac so deep as woman's love, 
 
 
 
 That black an' starless nicht. 
 
 As her sweet sympathy ! 
 
 
 
 Siclike the nicht, siclike the hour, 
 
 Upon the wet an' windy sward 
 
 
 
 Siclike the wae they ken, 
 
 She wadna let him down, 
 
 
 
 Wha watch till those lov'd eyes shall close 
 
 But wiled an' wiled the lithest beild 
 
 
 
 That ne'er may ope again. 
 
 Wi' breckans happet roun'. 
 
 
 
 As gin to tak' the last lang look, 
 
 Knockespock's cauld, he's deadly cauld— 
 
 
 
 He raised a lichtless e'e; 
 
 Whaur has his lady gane ? 
 
 
 
 Kow list, 0, thou, his lady wife, 
 
 How has she left him in the loan 
 
 
 
 Knockespock speaks to thee ! 
 
 A' tremblin' there alane ? 
 
 
 
 " Sit doun, my Jeanie Gordon, love, 
 
 An' has she gane for feckless gowd, 
 
 
 
 Sit doun an' haud my head ; 
 
 To tempt yon fearfu' lowe ? 
 
 
 
 There's sic a lowe beneath my brow 
 
 Or is her fair mind, wreck'd and wrang, 
 
 
 
 Mann goon, soon be my dead. 1 
 
 ■f Forgane its guidance now ? 
 
 
 

 
 5G0 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 
 She fearless speels the reekin' tow'r, a 
 
 £ 'Twas Yule's dread time, when the spirits ha'o 
 
 
 
 Though red, red is the wa', 
 
 power 
 
 
 
 An' braves the deaf nin' din an' stour, 
 
 Through the dark yetts o' death to return ;— 
 
 
 
 Whare cracklin' rafters fa'. 
 
 'Twas Yule's dread time, and the mid-nicht 
 hour 
 
 
 
 It is na gowd, nor gallant robes, 
 
 When the witches astride on the whirlwinds 
 
 
 
 Gars Jeanie Gordon rin ; 
 
 ride 
 
 
 
 But she has wiled the saftest plaid3 
 
 On their way to the Dennan Burn 1 
 
 
 
 To wrap her leal lord in. 
 
 The ill-bodin' howlet screight eerily by, 
 
 
 
 For woman's heart is tenderness, 
 
 And loudly the tempest was ravin', 
 
 
 
 Yet woman weel may dare 
 
 When shrill on the blast cam' the weary wo- 
 
 
 
 The deftest deed, an' tremble nane, 
 
 man's cry, 
 
 
 
 Gin true love be her care. 
 
 And the screams o' the greetin' bairn I 
 
 
 
 " The lowe has scaith'd your locks, my Jean, 
 
 " 0, open the door, for I've tint my gate, 
 
 
 
 An' scorch'd your bonnie brow; 
 
 And the frost winds snelly blaw ! 
 
 
 
 The graceless flame consumes our hame — 
 
 save my wee bairn frae a timeless fate, 
 
 
 
 "What thinks my lady now ?" 
 
 Or its grave is the driftin' snaw 1" 
 
 
 
 " My locks will grow^igain, my love, 
 
 " Now get on your gate, ye fell weird wife— 
 
 
 , 
 
 My broken brow will men', 
 
 Ower my hallan ye sail na steer ; 
 
 
 
 Your kindly breast's the lealest hame 
 
 Though ye sicker can sweep through the tem- 
 
 
 
 That I can ever ken ; 
 
 pest's strife, 
 On my lintel-stane is the rowan-tree rife, 
 
 
 
 " But, 0, that waesome look o' thine, 
 
 And ye daurna enter here !" 
 
 
 
 Knockespoek, I wad gi'e 
 
 
 
 
 The livin' heart frae out my breast 
 
 " nippin' and cauld is the wintry blast, 
 
 
 
 For aught to pleasure thee '." 
 
 And sadly I'm weary and worn ; 
 save my wee bairn— its blood's freezin' fast, 
 
 
 
 Weel, woman's heart ! ay, woman's heart! 
 
 And we'll baith live to bless ye the morn 1" 
 
 
 
 There grows a something there, 
 
 
 
 
 The sweetest flower on bank or bower 
 
 " Now get on your gate, ye unco wife : 
 
 
 
 Maun nane wi' that compare. 
 
 Nae scoug to sic gentry I'll gi'e ; 
 On my lintel the red thread and rowan-tree h> 
 rife, 
 And ye daurna lodge wi' me !" 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ^f}£ H&nztin 9 3®akn. 
 
 Sair, sair she prigget, but prigget in vain, 
 For the auld carle drove her awa' ; 
 
 
 
 [Modern Ballad— Erskine Conolly.] 
 
 And loud on the nicht breeze she vented her 
 mane, 
 
 
 
 "Why hies yonder wicht wi' sic tremblin' speed 
 
 As she sank, wi' her bairn, ne'er to waken again 
 
 
 
 Whar the saughs and the fir-trees grow ? 
 
 Whar the burn ran dark through the snaw. 
 
 
 
 And why stands he wi' sic looks o' dreid 
 
 
 
 
 Whar the waters wimplin' flow .•> 
 
 And aften sin' syne has her ghaist been seen 
 Whar the burn winds down by the fern ; 
 
 
 
 eerie the tale is that I could impart, 
 
 And aft has the traveller been frighted at e'en, 
 
 
 
 How at Yule's black and dreary return, 
 
 By the screams o' the greetin' bairn. 
 
 
 
 Cauld curdles the bluid at the bauldest heart, 
 
 
 
 
 As it crosses the Dennan Burn 1* 
 
 
 
 
 * A small stream that runs between Crall 
 
 
 and KilrenDy, in Fifeshire. ? 
 
 P 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 APPENDIX. 561 
 
 
 ^ She's pierced a vein on her withered hide, 
 
 
 
 
 As she pawned her sinful soul ; 
 
 
 
 ®|jf 8$Mtcf> o* IjfiittmUtm. 
 
 And with the blood whilk was nearest her heart 
 She has signed the fearfu' scroll. 
 
 
 
 [A Lksbndaby Ballad, by David Veddkb.] 
 
 And when she delivered the fatal brief, 
 Weel written, signed, an' sealed, 
 
 
 
 Thebb woned a wife in Pittenweem, 
 
 A thousand phantoms, mirk as night, 
 
 
 
 And a greusome cummer was she; 
 
 A horrid anthem pealed. 
 
 
 
 Nae glimpse o' grace was in her heart, 
 
 
 
 
 Nor spark o' humanitie. 
 
 And the screechin' o' the demons dark 
 Seemed music till her ear ; 
 
 
 
 Her tawny face was furrowed ower 
 
 And aye she called the Evil One 
 
 
 
 like a beggar's hoggart hose ; 
 
 Her lord and master dear. 
 
 
 
 Nae tinkler's pike-staff had a cleek 
 
 
 
 
 That could match this carline's nose. 
 
 And she has abjured the blessed sign, 
 Which fiends an* demons fear ; 
 
 
 
 Her een they goggled like a fiend's, 
 
 And aye she called the Evil One 
 
 
 
 Her chin was clad wi' hair, 
 
 Her lord and master dear. 
 
 
 
 And her crooked stumps pushed out her 
 
 
 
 
 'lips 
 
 And the more to prove her allegiance true, 
 
 
 
 Like the tusks o' a Lapland bear. 
 
 Like a vassal gude an' leal, 
 She has branded her banes wi' Sathan's mark, 
 
 
 
 Her voice was like the howlet's scream, 
 
 And her flesh wi' his privy seal. 
 
 
 
 Or like the carrion craw's ; 
 
 
 
 
 An' the nails upon her finger-ends 
 
 He's gi'en her seven deadly imps 
 
 
 
 "Were like a griffin's claws. 
 
 As black as the midnight clud ; 
 And he's bidden her suckle them at her teats, 
 
 
 
 And ower her crooked shoulders hung 
 
 And nourish them wi' her blood. 
 
 
 
 A cloak that had ance been red; 
 
 
 
 
 But the curch was as black as Acheron 
 
 He's gi'en her a spindle frae his belt, 
 
 
 
 That covered the beldame's head. 
 
 "Whilk unto hers she hung; 
 The whorle o't was a scaly snake 
 
 
 
 She dearly loved the comet's glare, 
 
 Lollin' out its forked tongue. 
 
 
 
 But she hated the light o' day ; 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 And she banned the beams o' the blessed 
 
 He's gi'en her a staff intil her hand, 
 Cut frao the gallows wood, 
 
 
 
 As he rose ower the Isle o' May. 
 
 "Weel virled about wi' murderer's banes, 
 And varnished wi' felon's blood. 
 
 
 
 She's hied her whar twa highways cross 
 
 
 
 
 Low in a dreary dell, 
 
 But the foul fiend snorted like a wolf, 
 
 
 
 Far, far beyond the haly sound 
 
 Wi' dreddour an' wi' fear ; 
 
 
 
 0' the abbey's kirsened bell. 
 
 Syne flew to hell wi' an eldritch yell, 
 Eor he seen tit the morning air. 
 
 
 
 And she's knelt upon a suicide's grave, 
 
 
 
 
 And invokit Sathan's name; 
 
 Neist night she proudly mounted her nag, 
 
 
 
 And muttered mony a horrid spell, 
 
 Like the queen o' hellish hags, 
 
 
 
 Till the grisly monster came. 
 
 "While a' her imps, fu' cozilie, 
 Lay nestled in her rags. 
 
 
 
 And there she renouncit her rnither's 
 
 
 
 
 creed, 
 
 Ower brake an' mould, ower heath an' wold, 
 
 
 
 And eke her father's faith ; 
 
 Fu' swiftlie did she fly ; 
 
 
 
 And there she made a solemn league 
 
 An' the little wee starns crap in wi' fear, 
 
 
 
 And covenant wi' Dexith. ? 
 
 As she glowered up to the sky. 
 ' 2n 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 562 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 
 She's killed the heifer on the green, 5b They tied her arms hehind her back, 
 
 
 
 The lamb upon the iea; 
 
 An' twisted them with a pin ; 
 
 
 
 An' the nether millstane rare in twa 
 
 And they dragged her to Kinnoquhar loch, 
 
 
 
 Wi' the glamour o' her e'e. 
 
 An' coupit the limmer in— 
 An' the swans flew screamin' to the hills, 
 
 
 
 And mony a blumin' hairnie pined 
 
 Scared with the unhaly din. 
 
 
 
 Upon its mither's knee; 
 
 
 
 
 An' glowered like an unearthly imp, 
 
 When first she defiled the crystal flood. 
 
 
 
 An' wad neither live nor dee. 
 
 She ga'e a gruesome scream, 
 But like a bladder fu' o' air, 
 She floated on the feam. 
 
 
 
 An' mony a maiden far an' near, 
 
 
 
 As sweet as the rose in June, 
 Spewt iron skeurs, and crooked preens, 
 Ilk changin' o' the moon. 
 
 And when the abbot saw her swim 
 
 Like cork abune the flood, 
 He breathed an Ave, crossed himsel'. 
 
 
 
 The husbands sighed, the matrons cried, 
 
 And kissed the haly rood ; 
 "Avoid thee, Sathan !" the abbot said, 
 
 
 
 Wi' grief the country rang ; 
 
 " An' a' thy hellish brood." 
 
 
 
 And they murmured at the haly monks 
 
 
 
 
 For tholin' the limmer sae lang. 
 
 An' monk an' layic, priest an' friar, 
 Shrunk frae the polluted flood — 
 
 
 
 The ahbot assembled a' his monks 
 
 "Avoid thee, Sathan !" was their cry, 
 
 
 
 Upon St. Clement's day ; 
 
 " And all thy 6infu' brood 1" 
 
 
 
 " Mak' haste an' wash in Marie's well, 
 
 
 
 
 And likewise fast an' pray ; 
 
 The abbot pronounced the fearfu' word 
 Amidst his monks' acclaims — 
 
 
 
 " Anoint your heads wi' haly oil, 
 
 And the civil power has ta'en the witch. 
 
 
 
 In haly robes be dight, 
 
 And doomed her to the flames. 
 
 
 
 An' trust in gude St. Swithin's strength, 
 
 
 
 
 And sweet St. Marie's might; 
 
 They harled the caitiff to the shore, 
 
 
 
 For a deed sail be dune, and that fu' sune, 
 
 And smeared her ower wi' tar, 
 
 
 
 That shall sere your souls wi' fright." 
 
 An' chained her to an iron bolt, 
 An' eke an iron bar. 
 
 
 
 The sheriff has sent his scouts abroad, 
 And they sought baith east an' wast, 
 
 They higgit a pile around the hag, 
 Twa Soots ells up an' higher; 
 
 
 
 Till they cam' to a cave as mirk as the 
 
 An' the hangman cam' wi' a lowin' torch, 
 
 
 
 grave, 
 Where they fand her sleeping fast. 
 
 An' lighted the horrid pyre. 
 But the gatherin' cluds burst out at last, 
 
 
 
 They trailed her to the abbey yetts, 
 
 And loud the thun'er roared ; 
 
 
 
 And hemmed the hag about ; 
 
 The sun withdrew his beams o' light — 
 
 
 
 An' they pricket her body frae head to 
 
 The rain in torrents poured. 
 
 
 
 heel, 
 
 
 
 
 To find the witch-mark out. 
 
 It slockit at aDce the witch's fire — 
 
 A dreadfu' sight to see — 
 And the wind was lown, an' wadna stir 
 
 
 
 They bound the caitiff to a bolt, 
 
 The leaves o' the aspen tree; 
 
 
 
 Low in the dungeon-keep, 
 
 An* monk an' layman crossed themed'a, 
 
 
 
 An" thrice three nights, an' thrice three 
 
 And prayed to Sanct Marie ! 
 
 
 
 days, 
 
 
 
 
 They kept her een frae sleep ; 
 
 But there was a monk amang the rest, 
 
 
 
 An' they scorched her soles wi' burnin' 
 
 And ane cunning monk was he, 
 
 
 
 gauds, 
 
 Renowned through a' the shire o' Fife 
 
 
 
 But she wouldna or couldna weep. j 
 
 i For lear an' sanctitie. 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 APPENDIX. 563 
 
 
 He lighted his taper at the lamp & And many did bless that holy bishop, 
 
 
 
 Before St. Marie's shrine ; 
 
 As evermore they may ; 
 
 
 
 An' reckless o' the foal fiend's powers — 
 
 For well they knew 'twas for holy peace 
 
 
 
 Without a cros3 or sign- 
 
 That he did wend that way. 
 
 
 
 He stappit up to the witch's pile, 
 
 And at the castle of fair Roxburgh 
 
 
 
 An' applied the sacred light— 
 
 The king and bishop drew near, 
 
 
 
 An' the crackling flames blazed up to heaven 
 
 Their horns resounding o'er the hills, 
 
 
 
 Like whins on a summer night. 
 
 Their banners shining far. 
 
 
 
 An' when the flames had reached her heart 
 
 " Now welcome, welcome holy Thurstan, 
 
 
 
 She ga'e an awfu' yell, 
 
 Right welcome unto me, 
 
 
 1 
 
 An" her sinfu' spirit winged its flight- 
 
 And ever it cheers me sooth to say, 
 
 
 
 But where — I darena tell. 
 
 So holy a man to see." 
 
 
 j 
 
 And aye the spot remained a blot 
 
 " No king is welcome unto me, 
 
 
 
 On nature's beauteous face ; 
 
 Nor for him will I pray, 
 
 
 
 For grass never grew, nor fell the dew, 
 
 Who comes to ravage a helpless land. 
 
 
 
 Upon the accursed place. 
 
 When it's king is far away." 
 
 
 
 
 
 Oh then bespake king David, 
 And full of wrath spake he : 
 
 
 
 ■ Mgfjojp ®)«to, atii& tfje 
 
 " Now I swear by the rood, th' English king 
 Hath evermore injur'd me. 
 
 
 
 ikiwg off Jbcrtg. 
 
 " Fro' my son he keeps th' investiture 
 Of Northumberland, his right: 
 
 
 
 [First printed in Evans's Collection. — " Soon 
 
 And ever I'll harrow that unjust king, 
 
 
 
 after Stephen's departure for Normandy, (a. d. 
 
 By Christ in heaven his might." 
 
 
 
 1137,) the king of Scots entered England in a 
 
 
 
 
 hostile manner. — Stephen's government was at 
 
 Oh then bespake the holy Thurstan, 
 
 
 
 this time in no condition to have resisted the 
 
 And full of woe spake he : 
 
 
 
 invasion, and nothing could have broke the 
 
 " Christ, thy kingdom of heav'nly bliss, 
 
 
 
 storm, but the venerable Thurstan (Archbishop 
 
 Alas ! when shall we see ? 
 
 
 
 of York) working upon the piety of king David. 
 
 
 
 
 Though this prelate was now very old, yet he 
 
 " For here on earth is nought but sin, 
 
 
 
 prevailed with David and his son to meet him at 
 
 E'en kings for pride do ill; 
 
 
 
 Roxburgh, a castle lying near the frontiers of 
 
 And when they with each other war, 
 
 
 
 both the kingdoms; where his remonstrances 
 
 The poor folk's blood must spill. 
 
 
 
 had such an effect, that the Scottish princes 
 
 
 
 
 generously put a stop to hostilities till Stephen 
 
 " What hath the husbandman done wrong, 
 
 
 
 should return to England, and be once more 
 
 That ye must spoil his grain ; 
 
 
 
 applied to for a definitive answer concerning the 
 
 And what the poor widow, and what the child, 
 
 
 
 investiture of Northumberland. — See Guthrie's 
 
 That they must all be slain ? 
 
 
 
 History of England." — Evans.] 
 
 
 
 
 Through the fair country of Tiviotdale, 
 
 " And what is the simple maid to blame, 
 
 
 
 King David marched forth ; 
 
 To be made of lust the prey ; 
 
 
 
 King David and his princely son. 
 
 And what the lowly village priest, 
 
 
 
 The heroes of the north. 
 
 That ye so oft do slay ? 
 
 
 
 And holy Thurstan fro' merry Carlisle, 
 
 " Ah ! tyrant kings, shall not the Lord 
 
 
 
 In haste his way doth wind ; 
 
 Revenge the poor distrest ; 
 
 
 
 With many a cross-bearer going before, 
 
 The simple swain, the helpless maid. 
 
 
 
 And many a knight behind. ^ 
 
 5 The widow, and the priest ? 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
564 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 "And when the doleful day of doom 
 
 Shall call ye fro* the grave ; 
 Fro' the crying hlood of those innocents, 
 
 "What, tyrants, shall ye save ? 
 
 " Think ye that Christ, (whose gentle laws 
 
 Aye breathe so mild a strain,) 
 Think you that Christ (of mercy king) 
 
 Will free you fro* the pain ? 
 
 " Did he not die all on the rood, 
 
 And all for the love of man f 
 And will he then save their guilty souls, 
 
 "Who so many men have slain ? 
 
 " Far sooner, oh king 1 would I lay in mire, 
 
 Than sit upon a throne ; 
 Far sooner, oh king ! would I beg my bread, 
 
 Than wear a golden crown. 
 
 "For shall not the judge of all do right, 
 
 At the doleful doom's day ? 
 Then what will avail your crowns and thrones, 
 
 And your states and courtiers gay ? 
 
 " Now think thee well, oh mortal king ! 
 
 And thy proud misdeeds bemoan ; 
 Oh think what will save thy hapless soul, 
 
 When thy pomp shall all be gone. 
 
 " Nor fancy that alms will save thy soul 
 Though bounteous they be giv'n ; 
 
 Nor the rearing of abbies, all rich endow'd, 
 Will carry thy soul to heav'n. 
 
 " Full well I know the craving monks 
 
 Have many a one beguil'd ; 
 And oft, when a man's laid on his death bed, 
 
 They rob the widow and child. 
 
 "But rouze thy reason, oh noble king ! 
 
 Nor heed the cloister : d drone ; 
 For nothing there is a man can do, 
 
 For bloodshed shall atone : 
 
 " Save the merits of him, who for our sins 
 
 Died on the precious rood ; 
 And ever the crime that most he hates, 
 
 Is shedding of man's blood." 
 
 All woe-begone then spoke the king, 
 And the tears ran fro' his eyne : 
 
 " And ever I thank thee, holy Thurstan, 
 For thy counsel so divine. 
 
 " But heav'n doth know that from my heart, 
 
 I hate to kill and slay ; 
 And ever I hinder my men at arms. 
 
 As ever more I may. 
 
 " And fain would I save the peasant swain, 
 
 And the widow poor distrest; 
 And the helpless maid and simple child, 
 
 And eke the lowly priest." 
 
 Oh then bespake prince Henry brave, 
 
 As he stood by the king; 
 " Father, I know thy conscience clear 
 
 As water fro' the spring, 
 
 " And if, in avenging of our wrongs 
 
 Full many a one is slain, 
 And the bloody warrior doth great spoil. 
 
 Art thou, good king, to blame?" 
 
 " Too hasty prince," the bishop cried, 
 
 " To ravage is a shame ; 
 And when the warriors do great spoil, 
 
 Their prince is all to blame. 
 
 " "Why not go meet your royal foe. 
 
 Like men in open field ; 
 And if he will not right your wrongs, 
 
 Then take to sword and shield ? 
 
 " And not when our king i3 far away, 
 
 To ravage the country o'er ; 
 To murder the weak and the innocent, 
 
 And cruelly spoil the poor." 
 
 Oh then bespake the Scottish king, 
 
 Like a noble king spake he : 
 " Oh, I will wait till your king Stephen 
 
 Doth come fro* o'er the sea. 
 
 " Then, reverend Thurstan, if thy king 
 
 No more our right delays, 
 But will invest my son in Northumberland, 
 
 Then will we go our ways. 
 
 " But if, when he's come to merry England, 
 
 He will not do us right, 
 Oh then will I harrow that unjust king, 
 
 By Christ in heaven his might." 
 
 " Now dost thou speak like a noble king," 
 
 The holy Thurstan cried; 
 " And now do I welcome thee, royal king, 
 
 Of Scotland aye the pride. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 565 
 
 " And ■when my Hege shall come again, 
 
 Then may he do thee right I" 
 " Or he shall rue," cried that valiant king, 
 
 " By Christ in heav'n his might," 
 
 And there, while the merry hells did ring, 
 And the minstrels blith did play, 
 
 The Scottish princes and the good bishop 
 Did feast for many a day. 
 
 Pull many did bless that holy man, 
 
 As he sat in the hall, 
 And merrily sang ; for well they knew, 
 
 He had rescued them fro' thrall. 
 
 And many a husbandman was blith 
 
 As he did reap his grain ; 
 " And hut for Thurstau, that holy bishop, 
 
 This all away had been ta'en ; 
 
 " And I had been kill'd, and many beside, 
 "With our wives and children all : 
 
 And may heav'n aye prosper that holy bishop, 
 That hath rescued us fro' thrall i" 
 
 IPaug;|JUJHS. 
 
 [A portion of this ballad, with the original 
 tune, is given in Johnson's Museum. Eitson 
 quotes the whole from a stall copy. Burns, in 
 speaking of it, gives the first line thus : 
 
 «* The 'Lord' of Gordon had three daughters," 
 
 which is probably the original reading, as the 
 dukedom of Gordon was not created till the I 
 year 1684. — George (Gordon) fourth earl of 
 Huntly, who succeeded his grandfather, earl i 
 Alexander, in 1523, and was killed at the battle 
 of Coricbie, in 1563, had actually three daughters : ' 
 lady Elizabeth, the eldest, married to John earl j 
 o: Athole ; lady Margaret, the second, to John 
 lord Forbes ; and lady Jean, the youngest, to 1 1 
 the famous James earl of Bothwell, from whom | j 
 being divorced, anno 1568, she married Alexan- 
 der earl of Sutherland, who died in 1594, and, 
 surviving him, Alexander Ogilvie of Boyne. As 
 for Alexander Ogilvie, he appears to have suc- 
 ceeded his father, Sir Walter Ogilvie, in the 
 barony of Boyne, about 1500, and to have died in ne 
 
 ^ 1606 ; this lady Jean being his first wife, by whom 
 I he seems to have had no issue. See Gordon's His- 
 I tory of the Gordons, and Douglas's Peerage, and 
 I Baronage.] 
 
 The duke of Gordon has three daughters, 
 Elizabeth, Margaret, and Jean ; 
 
 They would not stay in bonnie Castle-Gordon, 
 But they would go to bonnie Aberdeen. 
 
 They had not been in Aberdeen 
 
 A twelvemonth and a day, 
 Till lady Jean fell in love with captain Ogilvie, 
 
 And away with him she would gae. 
 
 Word came to the duke of Gordon, 
 
 In the chamber where he lay, 
 Lady Jean has fell in love with captain Ogilvie, 
 
 And away with him she would gae. 
 
 " Go saddle me the black horse, 
 And you'll ride on the gray ; 
 And I will ride to bonnie Aberdeen, 
 I have been many a day." 
 
 They were not a mile from Aberdeen, 
 
 A mile but only three, 
 Till he met with his two daughters walldit, 
 
 But away was lady Jean. 
 
 " Where is your si3ter, maidens ? 
 
 "Where is your sister, now ? 
 "Where is your sister, maidens, 
 
 That she is not walking with you ?" 
 
 " pardon us, honoured father, 
 
 O pardon us, they did say ; 
 Lady Jean is with captain Ogilvie. 
 
 And away with him she will gae." 
 
 "When he came to Aberdeen, 
 And down upon the green, 
 
 There did he see captain Ogilvie, 
 Training up his men. 
 
 " wo to you, captain Ogilvie, 
 And an ill death thou shalt die ; 
 
 For taking to my daughter, 
 Hanged thou shalt be." 
 
 Duke Gordon has wrote a broad letter, 
 
 And sent it to the king, 
 To cause hang captain Ogilvie, 
 
 If ever he hanged a man. 
 
;gg 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 " I will not hang captain Ogilvie, 
 
 For no lord that I see ; 
 But I'll cause him to put off the laoe and scarlet, 
 
 And put on the single livery." 
 
 Word came to captain Ogilvie, 
 
 In the chamber where he lay, 
 To cast off the gold lace and scarlet, 
 
 And put on the single livery. 
 
 " If this be for bonnie Jeany Gordon, 
 
 This pen nance I'll take wi'; 
 If this be bonnie Jeany Gordon, 
 
 All this I will dree." 
 
 Lftdy Jean had not been married, 
 
 Not a year but three, 
 Till she had a babe in every arm, 
 
 Another upon her knee. 
 
 " O but I'm weary of wandering ! 
 
 O but my fortune is bad ! 
 It sets not the duke of Gordon's daughter 
 
 To follow a soldier lad. 
 
 " O but I'm weary of wandering ! 
 
 O but I think lang ! 
 It sets not the duke of Gordon's daughter 
 
 To follow a single man." 
 
 When they came to the Highland hills, 
 
 Cold was the frost and snow ; 
 Lady Jean's shoes they were all torn, 
 
 No farther could she go. 
 
 " O ! wo to the hills and the mountains! 
 
 Wo to the wind and the rain ! 
 My feet is sore with going barefoot, 
 
 No further am I able to gang. 
 
 " Wo to the hills and the mountains ! 
 
 Wo to the frost and the snow ! 
 My feet is sore with going barefoot, 
 
 No farther am I able for to go." 
 
 " O I if I were at the glens of Foudlen, 
 
 Where hunting I have been, 
 I would find the way to bonnie Castle-Gordon, 
 
 Without either stockings or shoon." 
 
 When she came to Castle-Gordon, 
 
 And down upon the green, 
 The porter gave out a loud shout, 
 
 " O yonder comes lady Jean.'V 
 
 "O you are welcome, bonnie Jeany Gordon, 
 
 You are dear welcome to me ; 
 You are welcome, dear Jeany Gordon, 
 
 But away with your captain Ogilvie." 
 
 Now over seas went the captain. 
 
 As a soldier under command ; 
 A message soon followed after, 
 
 To come and heir his brother's land. 
 
 " Come home, you pretty captain Ogilvie, 
 
 And heir your brother's land ; 
 Come home, ye pretty captain Ogilvie, 
 
 Be earl of Northumberland." 
 
 " O ! what does this mean ?" says the captain 
 " Where's my brother's children three ?" 
 
 " They are dead and buried, 
 
 And the lands they are ready for thee." 
 
 " Then hoist up your sails, brave captain, 
 
 Let's be jovial and free; 
 I'll to Northumberland, and heir my estate. 
 
 Then my dear Jeany I'll see." 
 
 He soon came to Ci.stle-Gordon, 
 
 And down upon the green ; 
 The porter gave out with a loud shout, 
 
 " Here comes captain Ogilvie." 
 
 "Your welcome, pretty captain Ogilvie, 
 Your fortune's advanced I hear ; 
 
 No stranger can come into my gates, 
 That I do love so dear." 
 
 " Sir, the last time I was at your gates, 
 
 You would not let me in ; 
 I'm come for my wife and children, 
 
 No friendship else I claim." 
 
 " Come in pretty captain Ogilvie, 
 
 And drink of the beer and the wine; 
 
 And thou shalt have gold and silver, 
 To count till the clock strike nine." 
 
 " I'll have none of your gold and silver, 
 Nor none of your white money; 
 
 But I'll have bonnie Jeany Gordon, 
 And she shall go now with me." 
 
 Then she came tripping down the stair, 
 
 With the tear into her eye ; 
 One babe was at her foot, 
 
 Another upon her knee. 
 

 
 APPENDIX. 56 7 
 
 
 You're welcome, bonnie Jeany Gordon, 4 
 
 1 " I ha'e born seven sons to my Geordie dear, 
 
 
 With my young family ; 
 
 The seventh ne'er saw his daddie ; 
 
 
 Mount and go to Northumberland, 
 
 pardon, pardon, noble king, 
 
 
 There a countess thou shall be." 
 
 Pity a waefu' lady !" 
 
 
 
 
 " Gar bid the headin' man mak' haste," 
 Our king reply'd fu' lordly : 
 
 
 (Brmfefe* 
 
 " noble king, tak' a' that's mine, 
 But gi'e me back my Geordie." 
 
 
 [Bcbns sent this old fragment of a ballad to 
 
 The Gordons cam' and the Gordons ran, 
 
 
 Johnson's Museum. He had heard it sung to the 
 
 And they were stark and steady ; 
 
 
 tune of " A Country Lass/' and it is accordingly 
 
 And aye the word amang them a', 
 
 
 given with that air.] 
 
 Was, " Gordons keep you ready." 
 
 
 These was a battle in the North, 
 
 An aged lord at the king's right hand 
 
 
 And nobles there were many, 
 
 Says, " Noble king, but hear me ; 
 
 
 And they ha'e kill'd Sir Charlie Hay, 
 
 Gar her tell down five thousand pound, 
 
 
 And they laid the wyte on Geordie. 
 
 And gi'e her back her dearie." 
 
 
 he has written a lang letter, 
 
 Some ga'e her marks, some ga'e her crowns, 
 
 
 He sent it to his lady ; 
 
 Some ga'e her dollars many ; 
 
 
 " Ye maun cum up to E'nbrugh town, 
 
 And she's tell'd down five thousand pound, 
 
 
 To see what word's o' Geordie." 
 
 And she's gotten again her dearie. 
 
 
 "When first she look'd the letter on, 
 
 She blinkit blythe in her Geordie's face, 
 
 
 She was baith red and rosy ; 
 
 Says, " Dear I've bought thee, Geordie ; 
 
 
 But she hadna read a word but twa, 
 
 But there sud been bluiuy bouks on the green, 
 
 
 Till she wallow't like a lily. 
 
 Or I had tint my laddie." 
 
 
 " Gar get to me my gude grey steed, 
 
 He claspit her by the middle sma', 
 
 
 My menzie a' gae wi' me ; 
 
 And he kist her lips sae rosy : 
 
 
 For I shall neither eat nor drink, 
 
 " The fairest flower o' woman-kind 
 
 
 Till E'nbrugh town shall see me." 
 
 Is my sweet, bonnie lady !" 
 
 
 And she has mountit her gude grey steed, 
 
 
 
 
 Her menzie a' gaed wi' her; 
 
 
 
 And she did neither eat nor drink 
 
 GEORDIE. 
 
 
 Till E'nbrugh town did see her. 
 
 [Another version, from Mr. Kinloch's Col- 
 
 
 And first appear'd the fatal block, 
 
 lection. — Mr. Kinloeh is inclined to assign the 
 
 
 And syne the aix to head him ; 
 
 sixteenth century as the date of this production. 
 
 
 And Geordie cumin down the stair, 
 
 " It appears," he says, " to have originated in 
 
 
 And bands o' aim upon him. 
 
 the factions of the family of Huntly, during the 
 reign of Queen Mary; and the following passage 
 
 
 But tho' he was chain'd in fetters Strang, 
 
 in Buchanan, relates to a transaction which pro- 
 
 
 O' aim and steel sae heavy, 
 
 bably gave rise to this ballad.—' After this, when 
 
 
 There wa3 nae ane in a' the court, 
 
 the state of the public seemed to be somewhat 
 
 
 Sae bra' a man as Geordie. 
 
 settled, the Queen-regent (as now she was called) 
 sent out George Gordon, earl of Huntly, to ap- 
 
 
 she's down on her bended knee, 
 
 prehend John Muderach, chief of the family of 
 
 
 I wat she's pale and weary, 
 
 the M'Ronalds, a notorious robber who had 
 
 
 " pardon, pardon, noble king, 
 
 played many foul and monstrous pranks. It is 
 
 
 And gi'e me back my dearie 1 ^ 
 
 S thought that Gordon did not play fair in thia 
 
 
 
568 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 expedition ; so that when he returned without 
 doing the business he was sent about, he was 
 kept prisoner till the time appointed for his an- 
 swer. Gordon being in prison, the Queen- 
 regent's council were of different opinions as to 
 his punishment. Some were for his banishment 
 for several years into France; others for putting 
 him to death; but both these opinions were re- 
 jected by Gilbert, earl of Cassils, the chief of his 
 enemies. For he foreseeing by the present state 
 of things, that the peace between the Scots and 
 the French would not be long-lived, was not for 
 his banishment into France ; for he knew a man 
 of so crafty a spirit, and so spiteful at those who 
 blamed or envied him, would, in the war which 
 the insolence of the French was like speedily to 
 occasion, be a perfect incendiary, and perhaps a 
 general for the enemy. And he was more against 
 putting him to death, because he thought no 
 private offence worthy of so great punishment, 
 or to be so revenged, as to inure the French to 
 spill the blood of the nobility of Scotland. And 
 therefore he went a middle way, that he should 
 be fined and kept in prison till he yielded up the 
 right which he pretended to have over Murray, 
 &c. Upon these conditions he was dismissed.' — 
 Hist. Scot. 1799, Vol. II. p. 222."] 
 
 There was a battle in the North, 
 
 And rebels there were monie ; 
 And monie ane got broken heads, 
 
 And taken was my Geordie. 
 
 My Geordie O, my Geordie 0, 
 O the love I hear to Geordie ; 
 
 For the very grund I walk upon 
 Bears witness I lo'e Geordie. 
 
 As she gaed up the tolbooth stair, 
 The cripples there stood monie ; 
 
 And she dealt the red gowd them among, 
 To pray for her love Geordie. 
 
 And whan she cam' into the hall, 
 The nobles there stood monie, — 
 
 And ilka ane stood hat on head, 
 But hat in hand stood Geordie. 
 
 Up bespak' a Norlan' lord, 
 
 I wat he spak' na bonnie, — 
 " If ye'll stay here a little while, 
 
 Ye'll see Geordie hangit shortly." 
 
 Then up bespak' a baron bold, 
 
 And but he spak' bonnie ; — 
 " If ye'll pay doun five hundred crowns, 
 
 Ye'se get you true-love Geordie." 
 
 Some lent her guineas, some lent her crowns, 
 
 Some lent her shillings monie ; 
 And she's paid doun five hundred crowns, 
 
 And she's gotten her bonnie love Geordie. 
 
 "When she was mounted on her hie steed, 
 
 A.nd on ahint her Geordie; 
 Na bird on the brier e'er sang sae clear, 
 
 As the young knight and his ladie :— 
 
 " My Geordie O, my Geordie O, 
 O the love I bear to Geordie , 
 
 The very stars in the firmament, 
 Bear tokens I lo'e Geordie." 
 
 [Modern Ballad.— Robert Chambers.] 
 
 Young Randal was a bonnie lad, when he gaed 
 
 awa', 
 Young Randal was a bonnie lad, when he gaed 
 
 awa'; 
 'Twas in the sixteen hundred year o' grace and 
 
 thretty-twa, 
 That Randal, the Laird's youngest son, gaed awa'. 
 
 It was to seek his fortune in the High Germanie, 
 To fecht the foreign loons in the High Germanie, 
 That he left his father's tower o' sweet Willanslee, 
 And mony wae friends i' the North Countrie. 
 
 He left his mother in her bower, his father in the 
 
 ha', 
 His brother at the outer yett, but and his sisters 
 
 twa, 
 And his bonnie cousin Jean, that look'd owre 
 
 the castle wa', 
 And, mair than a' the lave, loot the tears down fa'. 
 
 " Oh, whan will ye be back," sae kindly did she 
 
 spier, 
 " Oh, whan will ye be back, my hinny and my 
 
 dear?" 
 " Whenever I can win eneuch o* Spanish gear 
 m To dress ye out in pearlins and silks, my dear," 
 
Oh, Randal's hair was coal-black when he gaed 
 
 awa', 
 Oh, Randal's cheeks were roses red, when he 
 
 gaed awa', 
 And in his bonnie e'e, a spark glintit high, 
 Like the rnerrie, raerrie look, in the morning sky. 
 
 Oh, Randal was an altert man whan he came 
 
 hame, 
 A sair altert man was he, whan he came hame ; 
 Wi' a ribbon at his breast, and a Sir at his name, 
 And grey, grey cheeks, did Randal come hame. 
 
 He lichtit at the outer yett, and rispit wi' the 
 
 ring, 
 And down came a ladye to see him come in, 
 And after the ladye came bairns feiteen — 
 " Can this muckle wife be my true love, Jean ?" 
 
 " Whatna stoure carl is this," quo' the dame ; 
 " Sae gruff and sae grand, and sae feckless and 
 
 sae lame ?" 
 " Oh, tell me, fair madam, are ye bonnie Jeanie 
 
 Grahame ?" 
 "In troth," quo' the ladye, " Sweet sir, the very 
 
 same." 
 
 He turned him about, wi' a waeful e'e, 
 
 And a heart as sair as sair could be ; 
 
 He lap on his horse, and awa' did wildly flee, 
 
 And never mair eame back to sweet Willanslee. 
 
 Oh, dule on the poortith o' this countrie, 
 And dule on the wars o' the High Germanie, 
 And dule on the love that forgetfu' can be — 
 For they've wreck'd the bravest heart in this 
 hale countrie. 
 
 [Modern Ballad. — John Finlay. — " About 
 this tiu.e, the king (James V.) resolves to be- 
 siege Tantallon Castle, in Lowthian, some six- 
 teen miles from Edinburgh; and for that pur- 
 pose causes bring ordinance, powder, and bullet, 
 from Dumbar, which was then kept by the ser- 
 vants of the late governour the duke of Albanie, 
 as a portion of his patrimony. There was in 
 Tantallon one Simeon Panangoe, with a compe- 
 tent number of men, well furnished, and pro- 
 vided both with victuals and munition. The earl 
 
 :ndix. 69 
 
 & himself (Angus) remained at Billie in the Merse, 
 within his baronie of Bonkle, not willing to shut 
 himself up within the wals of any strength ; hav- 
 ing ever in his mouth this maxime, (which he 
 had received from his predecessors,) ' That it 
 was better to hear the lark sing than the mouse 
 cheep.' The castle was well defended for certain 
 dayes, none hurt within ; many without were 
 wounded with shot from the castle, and some 
 burnt and scalded with their own powder, 
 which took fire unawares, and divers killed. 
 The besiegers were troubled without by the 
 horsemen, who assaulted them daily at their 
 trenehes ; so that seeing no hope of carrying it, 
 they raised their siege, and retired. In their 
 retreat, they were set upon in the reare by 
 Angus his horsemen, and one David Falconer (a 
 principall cannonier) slain, with some hired 
 muskiteers, and two of the cannons cloyed. This 
 the king took so highly, (esteeming it an affront 
 and scorn put upon him,) that he swore openly, 
 that, so long as he lived, the Douglasses should 
 never be received into favour. • - * His 
 implacabilitie did also appear in his carriage to- 
 ward Archibald of Kilspindie, whom he (when 
 he was a childe) loved singularly well for his 
 abilitie of body, and was wont to call him his 
 Gray Steell. Archibald, being banished into 
 England, could not well comport with the 
 humour of that nation, which he thought to be 
 too proud, and that they had too high a conceit 
 of themselves, joyned with a contempt and de- 
 spising of all others. Wherefore, being wearied 
 of that life, and remembring the kings favour of 
 old toward him, he determined to trie the king's 
 mercifulnesse and clemency. So he comes into 
 Scotland, and taking occasion of the kings hunt- 
 ing in the park at Stirlin, he casts himself to be 
 in his way, as he was coming home to the castle. 
 So soon as the king saw him afar off, ere he came 
 near, he ghessed it was he, and said to one of his 
 courtiers, Yonder is my Gray Steell, Archibald 
 of Kilspindie, if he be alive. The other answer- 
 ed that it could not be he, and that he durst not 
 come into the kings presence. The king ap- 
 proaching, he fell upon his knees, and craved 
 pardon, and promised from thenceforward to 
 abstain from all meddling in publiek affairs, and 
 to lead a quiet and a private life. The king went 
 by without giving him any answer, and trotted a 
 good round pace up the hill. Kilspindie follow- 
 ed, and (though he wore on him a secret, or 
 shirt of maile, for his particular enemies) was as 
 soon at the castle gate as the king. There he sat 
 
570 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 him down upon a stone without, and entreated ( 
 some of the kings servants for a cup of drink, 
 being wearie and thirstie ; but they, fearing the 
 kings displeasure, durst give him none. When 
 the king was sat at his dinner, he asked what he 
 had done, what he had said, and whither he was 
 gone ? It was told him he had desired a cup of 
 drink, and had gotten none. The king reproved 
 them very sharply for their discourtesie, and told 
 them, that if he had not taken an oath that no 
 Douglas should ever serve him, he would have 
 received him into his service ; for he had seen 
 him some time a man of great abilitie. Then he 
 sent him word to go to Leith, and expect his 
 farther pleasure. Then some kinsmen of David 
 Falconer (the cannonier that was slain at Tan- 
 tallon) began to quarrel with Archibald about 
 the matter, wherewith the king shewed himself 
 not well pleased when he heard of it. Then he 
 commanded him to go to France for a certain 
 space, till he heard farther from him ; and so he 
 did, and died shortly after. This gave occasion 
 to the king of England (Henry the VIII.) to 
 blame his nephew, alledging the old saying, 
 ' That a king's lace should give grace.' For 
 this Archibald (whatsoever were Anguses or Sir 
 George his fault) had not been principal actor of 
 any thing, nor no counsellour, or stirrer up, but 
 onely a follower of his friends, and that no ways 
 cruelly disposed." — Hume of Godscroft. 
 
 Gray Steel was the name of one of the heroes 
 in the romance of " Sir Egeir." Douglas of Kil- 
 spindie was not the only person who was hon- 
 oured with the designation. It seems to have 
 been anciently a popular epithet ; for one of 
 the earls of Eglintoun, a man of great bodily 
 strengh, was so nicknamed, as Crauford calls it. 
 See his Peerage of Scotland.— Finlay.] 
 
 Was worth the heart that can be glad, 
 Wae worth the tear that winna fa', 
 
 For justice is fleemyt frae the land, 
 
 An' the faith o' auld times is clean awa'. 
 
 Our nobles they ha'e sworn an aith, 
 
 An' they gart our young king swear the same, 
 
 That as lang as the crown was on his head, 
 He wad speak to nane o* the Douglas name. 
 
 An' wasna this a wearifou aith ; 
 
 For the crown frae his head had been tint 
 an' gane, 
 Gin the Douglas' hand hadna held it on, 
 
 Whan anither to help him there was nane. 
 
 An' the king frae that day grew dowie an' wae, 
 For he liked in his heart the Douglas weel ; 
 
 For his foster-brither was Jamie o' Parkhead, 
 An' Archy o' Kilspindie was his Gray Steel. 
 
 But Jamie was banisht an' Archy baith, 
 An' they lived lang, lang ayont the sea, 
 
 Till a' had forgotten them but the king ; 
 An' he whiles said, wi' a watery e'e, — 
 
 " Gin they think on me as I think on them, 
 I wot their life is but ureerie."— 
 
 It chanced he rode wi' hound an' horn 
 To hunt the dun and the red deer down, 
 
 An' wi' him was mony a gallant earl, 
 And laird, and knight, and bold baron. 
 
 But nane was wi' him wad ever compare 
 Wi' the Douglas so proud in tower and town, 
 
 That were courtliest all in bower and hall, 
 And the highest ever in renown. — 
 
 It was dawn when the hunters sounded the 
 horn, 
 
 By Stirlin's walls, sae fair to see ; 
 But the sun was far gane down i' the west 
 
 When they brittled the deer on Torwood-lee. 
 
 And wi' jovial din they rode hame to the town 
 Where Snawdon* tower stands dark an' hie ; 
 
 Frae least to best they were plyin' the jest, 
 An' the laugh was gaun round richt merrily : 
 
 When Murray cried loud, — " Wha's yon I see ? 
 
 Like a Douglas he looks, baith dark and grim ; 
 And for a' his sad and weary pace, 
 
 Like them he's richt stark o' arm and limb." 
 
 The king's heart lap, and he shouted wi' glee,— 
 " Yon stal worth makedom |- I ken richt weel ; 
 
 And I'se wad in pawn the hawk on my han', • 
 Its Archie Kilspindie, my ain Gray Steel : 
 
 We maun gi'e him grace o' a' his race, 
 For Kilspindie was trusty aye, and leal." 
 
 But Lindsay spak' in waefou mood, — 
 " Alas ! my liege, that mauna be." 
 
 And stout Kilmaurs cries,—" He that dares, 
 Is a traitor to his ain countrie." 
 
 * Snawdon, an ancient name of Stirling, 
 t Staln/oii makedom, stout body. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 5TI 
 
 And Glencairn, that aye was dowre and stem, < 
 Says, — " Where's the aith ye sware to me ? 
 
 Gin ye speak to a man o' the Douglas clan, 
 A gray groat for thy crown and thee."— 
 
 When Kilspindie took haud o' the king's bridle 
 reins, 
 
 He louted low down on his knee ; 
 The king a word he durstna speak, 
 
 But he looked on him wistfullie. 
 
 He thocht on days that lang were gane, 
 
 Till his heart was yearnin' and like to brast : 
 
 As he turned him round, his barons frowned; 
 But Lindsay was dichtin' his e'en fu' fast. 
 
 "When he saw their looks, his proud heart rose, 
 An' he tried to speak richt hauchtillie ; — 
 
 " Gae tak' my bridle frae that auld man's grip ; 
 What sorrow gars him haud it sae sickerlie." 
 
 An' he spurred his horse wi' gallant speed, 
 But Archy followed him manfulhe, 
 
 And, though cased in steel frae shoulder to heel, 
 He was first o' a' his companie. 
 
 As they passed, he sat down on a stane in the 
 yett, 
 For a' his gray hair there was nae ither biel; 
 The king staid the hindmost o' the train, 
 
 And he aft looked back to his auld Gray 
 Steel. 
 
 Archy wi' grief was quite fordone, 
 
 An' his arm fell weak that was anes like 
 aim, 
 An' he sought for some cauld water to drink, 
 
 But they durstna for that dowre Glencairn. 
 
 When this was tald to our gTacious king, 
 A redwood furious man wose he ; 
 
 He has ta'en the mazer cup in his han', 
 And in flinders a' he gart it flee : — 
 
 " Had I kend my Gray Steel wanted a drink, 
 He should ha'e had o' the red wine free." 
 
 And fu' sad at the table he sat him down, 
 An' he spak' but ae word at the dine: — 
 
 "01 wish my warst fae were but a king, 
 Wi' as cruel counsellours as mine." 
 
 r ^ie mxmwti* «u|t 
 
 [A Border Ballad by James Henry Dixon-. 
 
 ] — Few families have been more celebrated for 
 i raids and forays, than the border clan of Birt- 
 I wnistle. The one who is the subject of the fol- 
 | lowing ballad, appears to be Andro o" the Birt- 
 | whistle, as he was called. If not altogether a 
 . traditionary personage, he lived in the reign of 
 ! Henry VII., and his character has been handed 
 down to us, as a man famed for deeds of gallan- 
 try, as well as of foraging. In fact he was a sort 
 of border Du Val. His descendants are said, in 
 j every respect, to have trod in his footsteps, even 
 J to the close of the 18th century ; and there are 
 j now old border farmers, who will speak of losing 
 cattle in their young days, and end the narration 
 by saying, " it was done by the Birtwhistles." 
 ; The present descendants of the clan are potters 
 ; and tinklers, well known in all the northern 
 j dales.] 
 
 I rede ye tak' tent o' the Birtwhistle wicht, 
 He forays by day, and he raids by the nicht ; 
 He caresna for warden, for baillie, or reeve, 
 Ye may post him at kirk, * and he'll laugh in hU 
 
 sleeve; 
 He'd harry, though Hairibee tree were in sicht, 
 So daring a chiel is the Birtwhistle wicht I 
 
 * The door of a northern village church, is not 
 merely used for the purpose of posting parochial 
 or parliamentary notices ; it is the place for an- 
 nouncements of every description requiring pub- 
 licity, and placards of charity sermons will be 
 often found there, along with those of auctions, 
 tradesmens' advertisements, rewards for disco- 
 very of malefactors, &c, &c. These latter used 
 formerly, and indeed within the memory of man, 
 to be read aloud in the church, and it was no 
 uncommon thing after the benediction at the 
 close of the prayers, to hear the clerk bawl out, 
 "Sheep Stealing! Whereas, &c, &c." Such 
 unseemly exhibitions have been very properly 
 prohibited by act of parliament. By a figure of 
 speech, a w< rthy who had had a reward offered 
 for his apprehension, was said to have been 
 «(S " posted at kirk." 
 
572 
 
 SCOTTISH BALLADS. 
 
 The Tyne, and the Tarras, the Tweed, and the^ 
 
 Till, 
 They never could stop him, and troth ! never 
 
 will ; 
 At the mirk hour o' midnicht, he'll cross the 
 
 dark fen, 
 He knows every windin' o* valley and glen ; 
 Unscath'd he can roam, though na star shed its 
 
 licht, 
 For wha wad dare question the Birt whistle wicht? 
 
 The proud lord o' Dilston has deer in his park, 
 He has keepers to watch them, and ban-dogs to 
 
 bark ; 
 The baron o' Thirlwall has owsen and kye, 
 And auld Gaffer Featherstone's pigs i' the stye — 
 The priest canna claim them, or tythe them of 
 
 richt, 
 But they a' will pay tythe to the Birtwhistle 
 
 wicht I 
 
 The prior o' Brinkburn is telling his beads, 
 He patters his aves, and mutters his creeds ; 
 At each pause o' the choir, he starts, when the 
 
 breeze 
 Booms its dirge through the tower, or sichs 
 
 through the trees; 
 
 He prays to the Virgin to shield him through 
 
 nicht, 
 From the powers o' hell, and the Birtwhistle 
 
 wicht 1 
 
 Fair lasses o* Cheviot, he bodes ye na gude, 
 He'll ne'er kneel at altar, nor bow to the roode : 
 But tell ye, your eyne ha' the gowan's bright 
 sheen, 
 
 I The whiles he's prcparin* your mantles o* green. 
 
 ] He'll grieve ye, and leave ye— alas, for the plicht • 
 For reckless in love is the Birtwhistle wicht. 
 
 O ! gin he were ta'en to the Hairibee tree, 
 There'd be starers and gazers, of every degree ; 
 There'd be shepherds from shielings, and knichta 
 
 from their ha's, 
 And his neck- verse* would gain him unbounded 
 
 applause ; 
 But it's na in a hurry ye'll witness that sicht, 
 For wary and cute is the Birtwhistle wicht ! 
 
 * The " neck-verse" was the beginning of the 
 51st Psalm, " Miserere mei," &c. Hairibee was 
 [the common place of execution for all tiorder 
 
INDEX TO THE BALLADS. 
 
 In consulting this Index, care must be taken not to overlook the titles beginning 
 article " The/' which are given in alphabetical order under the letter T.] 
 
 ALISON GEOS3, 
 ALLAN-A-MALTT, (2 sets) 
 ANDREW LAAIMIE, 
 ANNAN YTATEE, 
 AECHIE OF CA'FIELD, . 
 AECHIE AEMSTEANG'S AITH 
 AECHIE 0' KILSPINDIE, 
 AEHSTEONG'S GOODNIGHT 
 ATHOL TV'OOD, 
 ALCHINDOTVN, . 
 AT7LD HAITLAND, 
 
 BABY LON, OE THE BONNIE BANKS 
 
 0' FOEDIE, . . . .295 
 BAETHEAil'S DIEGE, ... 394 
 BISHOP THEESTAN, AND THE KING 
 
 OF SCOTS, . . . .563 
 
 BLACK AGNACE OF DUNBAE, . 252 
 BLANCHEFLOEE AND JELLYFLO- 
 
 EICE, 
 
 BONDSEY AND MAISEY, . 
 BONNIE BABY LIVINGSTONE, 
 BONNIE LIZIE LINDSAY, . 
 BONNIE SESIE CLELAND, 
 BOTHWELL BEIGG, ■ . 
 
 BEOWS ADAAI, 
 
 BLED HELEN, , 
 
 BFENING OF AECHINDOUN, (2 sets) 
 
 
 Pa~ 4 
 
 461 I CADYOW CASTLE, . 
 283,4 ■ CATHEEINE JOHNSTONE, 
 265 ' CHIL ETHEE, 
 
 CHIELD MOEICE, . 
 
 CHLLDE MATJEICE, . 
 
 CHILD NOEYCE, . 
 
 CHEISTIE'S "VTILL, . 
 
 CLEEK SATJNDEE3, (2 sets) 
 
 CUMNOEHALL, . 
 
 407 
 
 DEATH OF FEATHEESTONHATJGH, 
 DICK 0' THE COW, 
 DI7NCAN, a Fragment, 
 
 EAEL CEAWFOED, 
 
 EAEL LINDSAYE, 
 
 EAEL EICHAED, . 
 
 EAEL EICHAED, 
 
 EAEL EICHAED'S DATJGHTEE, 
 
 EAELEOBEET, . 
 
 EDOM 0' GOEDON, 
 
 EDWAED, EDWAED, 
 
 ELFIE HILL, .... 
 
 EELINGION, 
 
 F 
 
 FAIEANNET, 
 
 FAIE ANNIE OF LOCHEYAN, 
 
 Ps?e 
 221 
 64 
 170 
 117 
 120 
 
 -71 
 
 554 
 
 147 
 151 
 142 
 280 
 13 
 297 
 110 
 287 
 466 
 198 
 
 19 
 . 3 
 
574 
 
 INDEX TO THE BALLADS. 
 
 Page. $> 
 
 PAIR MARGARET AND SWEET WIL- 
 LIAM, .... 77 
 FAUSE FOODRAGE, . .46 
 FRENNETHALL, .... 272 
 
 GEORDIE (2 sets), . . . .567 
 
 GILMORICE, .... 113 
 
 GIRTLEE, OR THE HAP OF HIND 
 
 HALBERT, . . . .553 
 GLASGOW PEGGY, ... 34 
 
 GLENFINLAS, 58 
 
 GLENKINDIE, ... 216 
 
 GLENLOG1E (2 sets), . . . 57,58 
 
 H 
 
 HARDYKNUTE, .... 205 
 
 HELENORE, 123 
 
 HIGHLAND LEGEND, ... 256 
 
 HOBBIE NOBLE, . . . .381 
 
 HUGHIE THE GRAEME, . . 410 
 
 HUGHIE GRAHAM, . . . .411 
 
 HYNDHORN, .... 134 
 
 J 
 
 JAMES HERRIES, .... 222 
 JAMES TELFER OF THE FAIR DOD- 
 
 HEAD, .... 362 
 JELLON GR.EME, . . . .196 
 JOCK O' THE SIDE, ... 379 
 JOCK JOHNSTONE THE TINKLER, . 93 
 JOHN BARLEYCORN, ... 284 
 JOHN THOMSON AND THE TURK, . 149 
 JOHN1E OF BRAIDISBANK, . 407 
 JOHNIEOFBREADISLEE, . . 405 
 JOHNIE ARMSTRANG, . . . 355 
 JOHNNIE ARMSTRONGS LAST GOOD- 
 NIGHT, 358 
 
 JOHNIE FAA, . . . . 268 
 
 K 
 
 KATHERINE JANFARIE, . . 63 
 
 KILMENY, 511 
 
 KING MALCOM AND SIR COL YIN, 123 
 
 KINMONT WILLIE, 
 KNOCKESPOCK'S LADY, 
 
 Page 
 370 
 
 559 
 
 LADY ANNE, .... 
 
 197 
 
 LADY CLARE, .... 
 
 . 12 
 
 LADYELSPAT, 
 
 185 
 
 LADY JANE, .... 
 
 . 188 
 
 LADY JEAN, .... 
 
 67 
 
 LADY JEAN, .... 
 
 . 551 
 
 LADY MAISRY, 
 
 214 
 
 LADY MARGARET, . 
 
 . 55 
 
 LAIRD OF DRUM, . 
 
 136 
 
 LAMENT OF THE BORDER WlDO\ 
 
 V, 409 
 
 LAMMIKIN (5 sets), . 
 
 . 241 
 
 LIZIE BAILLIE, 
 
 290 
 
 LIZZIE LINDSAY, 
 
 51 
 
 LOCHABER NO MORE, 
 
 . 278 
 
 LOCHINYAR, 
 
 66 
 
 LORDBARNABY, 
 
 • 230 
 
 LORDBEICHAN, . 
 
 23 
 
 LORD DONALD, 
 
 . 239 
 
 LORD EWRIE, 
 
 404 
 
 LORD JOHN'S MURDER, . 
 
 . 104 
 
 LORDLOYAT, 
 
 183 
 
 LORD LOYEL, .... 
 
 . 183 
 
 LORD MAXWELL'S GOODNIGHT, 
 
 389 
 
 LORD RANDAL, 
 
 238 
 
 LORD RONALD, 
 
 . 160 
 
 LORDSOULIS, 
 
 487 
 
 LORD SPYNIE, .... 
 
 . 286 
 
 LORD THOMAS STUART, 
 
 171 
 
 LORD WILLIAM, 
 
 . 143 
 
 LYTTIL PYNK1E, 
 
 478 
 
 MARCHIONESS OF DOUGLAS, . . 193 
 MARY HAMILTON, ... 263 
 
 MAY OF THE MORIL GLEN, . . 507 
 MAY COLYIN (2 sets), . . . 27,28 
 MEMORABLES OF THE MONTGO- 
 
 MERIES. . . .254 
 
_ 
 
 
 INDEX TO THE BALLADS. 5 
 
 
 
 P 
 
 -j^THE BATTLE OF OTTEEBOUENE, . 
 
 344 
 
 
 Paze. | 
 
 THE BATTLE OF PENTLAND HILLS, 
 
 531 
 
 
 POLYDORE, 
 
 PRINCE EOBEET, 
 
 PROUD LADY MAEGAEET, . 
 
 296 
 161 
 
 THE BATTLE OF PHILIPHAUGH, 
 THE BENT SAE BEOWN, . 
 THE BIETWHISTLE WICHT, 
 
 525 
 189 
 571 
 
 
 Q 
 
 
 THE BLAEBEEEIES, 
 
 276 
 
 
 QUEEN' ELEANOE'S CONFESSION, 
 
 181 ! 
 
 THE BONNIE EAEL OF MUEEAY, 
 THE BEOOM OF COWDENKNOWS, 
 
 16 
 
 288 
 
 
 E 
 
 
 THE BEOWNIE OF FEAENDEN, . 
 
 502 
 
 
 EEEDI8DALE AND WISE "WILLIAM, 
 
 144 
 
 THE CLEEK'S TWA SONS O' OWSEN 
 
 
 
 EOOKHOPE BYDE, 
 
 384 
 
 FOED, 
 
 231 
 
 
 EOSE THE EED AND WHITE LILLY 
 
 
 THE COUETEOUS KNIGHT, 
 
 162 
 
 
 (2 sets), ... 127- 
 
 -130 
 
 THE COUT OF KEELDAE, 
 
 492 
 
 
 EOSMEE HAFMAND, .... 
 
 191 
 
 THE CEUEL BEOTHEE, 
 THE CEUEL SISTEE, 
 
 106 
 260 
 
 
 s 
 
 
 THE CUESE OF MOY, 
 
 201 
 
 
 SAINT ULIN'S PILGEIM, 
 
 298 
 
 THE D^MON-LOVEE, . 
 
 112 
 
 
 SIE ALAN MOETIMEE, 
 
 467 
 
 THE DOWY DEN 
 
 259 
 
 
 SIE AETHUB AND LADY ANNE, . 
 
 18 
 
 THE DEOWNED LOYEE?, 
 
 33 
 
 
 SIE GEOEGE MAXWELL, 
 
 557 
 
 THE DUEL OF WHARTON AND STU- 
 
 
 
 SIE GILBEET HAMILTON, . 
 
 303 
 
 ART, 
 
 210 
 
 
 SIE HUGH LE BLOND, 
 
 163 
 
 THE DUKE OF ATHOLE'S NUE3E, 
 
 105 
 
 
 SIE JAMES THE EOSE (2 sets), . 3£ 
 
 —41 
 
 THE DUKE OF ATHOL, 
 
 556 
 
 
 SIEMAUEICE, 
 
 171 
 
 THE EAEL OF DOUGLAS AND DAME 
 
 
 SIE NIEL AND MAC VAN, . 
 
 289 
 
 OLIPHANT, .... 
 
 175 
 
 
 SIE OLUF, AND THE ELF KING'S 
 
 
 THE EAEL OF MAE'S DAUGHTEE, 
 
 186 
 
 
 DAUGHTEE, 
 
 465 
 
 THE ELFIN KNICHT, 
 
 463 
 
 
 SIE PATRICK SPENS (2 sets), . 9—11 
 
 THE FAIEY KNIGHT, 
 
 464 
 
 
 SIE EOLAND, 
 
 52 
 
 THE FAUSE LOYEE, 
 
 221 
 
 
 SON DAYIE, SON DAVIE, . 
 
 2S7 
 
 THE FIRE OF FEENDEAUGHT, 
 
 269 
 
 
 SWEET WILLIE AND FAIE ANNIE, 
 
 '20 
 
 THE FEAY OF SUPOET, 
 
 394 
 
 
 SWEET WILLIE AND LADY MAEGE- 
 
 
 THE GALLANT GEAHAMS, 
 
 526 
 
 
 EIE, 
 
 74 
 
 THE GAEDENER, .... 
 
 68 
 
 
 SWEET WILLIAM AND MAY MAE- 
 
 
 THE GAY GOSS-HAWK, . 
 
 5 
 
 
 GAEET, .... 
 
 74 
 
 THE GLOAMYNE BUCHTE, . 
 
 454 
 
 
 SWEET WILLIAM'S GHOST, 
 
 75 
 
 THE GRAY BROTHER, 
 THE GREETIN- BAIRN, 
 
 273 
 
 560 
 
 
 T 
 
 
 THE GUDE WALLACE (2 sets), 233—235 
 
 
 THE ANGEL STAES, . . . 
 
 36 
 
 THE HAUGHS OF CROMDALE, 
 
 546 
 
 
 THE BATTLE OF BOTHWELL BEIDGE, 538 
 
 THE HEIR OF LINNE, . 
 
 81 
 
 
 THE BATTLE OF COEICHIE, 
 
 555 
 
 THE JEW'S DAUGHTER, . 
 
 30 
 
 
 THE BATTLE OF HAELAW, 
 
 138 
 
 THE JOLLY GOSS-HAWK, 
 
 7 
 
 
 THE BATTLE OF LOUDON-HILL, 
 
 533 
 
 1 THE KEACH I' THE CREEL, 
 
 35 
 
 
 THE BATTLE OF LUNCAETY, 
 
 300 ^ THE KING'S DAUGHTEE, 
 
 140 
 
 
 
576 
 
 INDEX TO THE BALLADS. 
 
 THE LADS OF WAMPHEAT, . 
 
 THE LADY AND HER PAGE, 
 
 THE LAIRD OP LAIRISTAN, OR THE 
 THREE CHAMPIONS OP LID- 
 DISDALE, .... 
 
 THE LAIRD OF LOGIE, . 
 
 THE LAIRD O' MELDRUM AND 
 PEGGT DOUGLAS, 
 
 THE LAIRD OP OCH1LTRIR, 
 
 THE LAIRD OF WARISTOUN, 
 
 THE LASS OF LOCHRYAN, 
 
 THE LAST FAIRY, 
 
 THE LOCHMABEN HARPER, 
 
 THE MAID AND FAIRY, 
 
 THE MARMAIDEN OF CLYDE, 
 
 THE MARTYR, 
 
 THE MASTER OF WEEMYS, 
 
 THE MERMAID OF GALLOWAY, . 
 
 THE MILLAR'S SON, . 
 
 THE MURDER OF CAERLAYEROC, 
 
 THE ORPHAN MAID, 
 
 THE OUTLAW MURRAY, . 
 
 THE PARTED LOYERS, 
 
 THE PROPHECY OF QUEEN EMMA, 
 
 THE QUEEN'S MARIE, 
 
 THE RAID OF GLEN FRUIN, . 
 
 THE RAID OF THE REIDSWIRE, 
 
 THE SPIRIT OF THE GLEN, . 
 
 THE TANE-AWAY, . 
 
 THE TWA BROTHERS, . 
 
 THE TWA MACICIANS, 
 
 THE TWA MARTYRS* WIDOWS, . 
 
 Pa»e. 
 THE TWEEDDALE RAIDE, . . 415 
 
 THE WARLOCK OF AIKWOOD, . 249 
 THE WEARY COBLE O' CARGILL, . 293 
 THE WEDDING OF ROBIN HOOD AND 
 
 133 
 
 44fJ 
 453 
 14G 
 
 LITTLE JOHN, 
 THE WEE WEE MAN, . 
 THE WIFE OF USHER'S WELL, 
 THE WITCH OP FIFE, . 
 THE WITCH OF PITTENWEEN, 
 THE YOUNG JOHNSTONE, . 
 THE YOUNG TAMLANE, 
 TOM LINN, .... 
 THOMAS O' YONDERDALE, 
 THOMAS THE RHYMER, 
 THROUGH THE WOOD, 
 
 W 
 
 WATER KELPIE, . 603 
 
 WATTY AND MADGE, ... 80 
 
 WILLIAM AND MARGARET, . 78 
 
 WILLIAM AND MARJORIE, . . 76 
 
 WILLIE'S DROWNED IN GAMERY, 229 
 
 Y 
 
 YOUNG AIKIN, .... 125 
 
 YOUNG BEKIE, .... 25 
 
 YOUNG BENJIE, .... 199 
 
 YOUNG PEGGY, .... 63 
 
 YOUNG RANDAL, .... 568 
 
 YOUNG WATERS, .... 17 
 
 W. G. BLACKIE & CO., PRINTERS, GLASGOW. 
 

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