Chapter XXVII: Appendix (3)

12
When tidings to old England came
The ship-carpenter’s wife was drownd,
He wrung his hands and tore his hair,
And grievously fell in a swoon.

13
‘Oh cursed be those mariners!
For they do lead a wicked life;
They ruind me, a ship-carpenter,
By deluding away my wife.’

* * * * *

C

Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 214.

1
‘O are ye my father? Or are ye my mother?
Or are ye my brother John?
Or are ye James Herries, my first true-love,
Come back to Scotland again?’

2
‘I am not your father, I am not your mother,
Nor am I your brother John;
But I’m James Herries, your first true-love,
Come back to Scotland again.’

3
‘Awa, awa, ye former lovers,
Had far awa frae me!
For now I am another man’s wife
Ye’ll neer see joy o me.’

4
‘Had I kent that ere I came here,
I neer had come to thee;
For I might hae married the king’s daughter,
Sae fain she woud had me.

5
‘I despised the crown o gold,
The yellow silk also,
And I am come to my true-love,
But with me she’ll not go.’

6
‘My husband he is a carpenter,
Makes his bread on dry land,
And I hae born him a young son;
Wi you I will not gang.’

7
‘You must forsake your dear husband,
Your little young son also,
Wi me to sail the raging seas,
Where the stormy winds do blow.’

8
‘O what hae you to keep me wi,
If I should with you go,
If I’d forsake my dear husband,
My little young son also?’

9
‘See ye not yon seven pretty ships?
The eighth brought me to land,
With merchandize and mariners,
And wealth in every hand.’

10
She turnd her round upon the shore
Her love’s ships to behold;
Their topmasts and their mainyards
Were coverd oer wi gold.

11
Then she’s gane to her little young son,
And kissd him cheek and chin;
Sae has she to her sleeping husband,
And dune the same to him.

12
‘O sleep ye, wake ye, my husband?
I wish ye wake in time!
I woudna for ten thousand pounds
This night ye knew my mind.’

13
She’s drawn the slippers on her feet,
Were coverd oer wi gold,
Well lined within wi velvet fine,
To had her frae the cold.

14
She hadna sailed upon the sea
A league but barely three
Till she minded on her dear husband,
Her little young son tee.

15
‘O gin I were at land again,
At land where I woud be,
The woman neer shoud bear the son
Shoud gar me sail the sea.’

16
‘O hold your tongue, my sprightly flower,
Let a’ your mourning be;
I’ll show you how the lilies grow
On the banks o Italy.’

17
She hadna sailed on the sea
A day but barely ane
Till the thoughts o grief came in her mind,
And she langd for to be hame.

18
‘O 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!’

19
‘O hold your tongue, my lily leesome thing,
Let a’ your mourning be;
But for a while we’ll stay at Rose Isle,
Then see a far countrie.

20
‘Ye’se neer be buried in Scottish ground,
Nor land ye’s nae mair see;
I brought you away to punish you
For the breaking your vows to me.

21
‘I said ye shoud see the lilies grow
On the banks o Italy;
But I’ll let you see the fishes swim,
In the bottom o the sea.’

22
He reached his hand to the topmast,
Made a’ the sails gae down,
And in the twinkling o an ee
Baith ship and crew did drown.

23
The fatal flight o this wretched maid
Did reach her ain countrie;
Her husband then distracted ran,
And this lament made he:

24
‘O wae be to the ship, the ship,
And wae be to the sea,
And wae be to the mariners
Took Jeanie Douglas frae me!

25
‘O bonny, bonny was my love,
A pleasure to behold;
The very hair o my love’s head
Was like the threads o gold.

26
‘O bonny was her cheek, her cheek,
And bonny was her chin,
And bonny was the bride she was,
The day she was made mine!’

* * * * *

D

Kinloch MSS, I, 297; from the recitation of T. Kinnear, Stonehaven.

1
‘O whare hae ye been, my dearest dear,
These seven lang years and more?’
‘O I am come to seek my former vows,
That ye promisd me before.’

2
‘Awa wi your former vows,’ she says,
‘Or else ye will breed strife;
Awa wi your former vows,’ she says,
‘For I’m become a wife.

3
‘I am married to a ship-carpenter,
A ship-carpenter he’s bound;
I wadna he kend my mind this nicht
For twice five hundred pound.’

* * * * * *

4
She has put her foot on gude ship-board,
And on ship-board she’s gane,
And the veil that hung oure her face
Was a’ wi gowd begane.

5
She had na sailed a league, a league,
A league but barely twa,
Till she did mind on the husband she left,
And her wee young son alsua.

6
‘O haud your tongue, my dearest dear,
Let all your follies abee;
I’ll show whare the white lillies grow,
On the banks of Italie.’

7
She had na sailed a league, a league,
A league but barely three,
Till grim, grim grew his countenance,
And gurly grew the sea.

8
‘O haud your tongue, my dearest dear,
Let all your follies abee;
I’ll show whare the white lillies grow,
In the bottom of the sea.’

9
He’s tane her by the milk-white hand,
And he’s thrown her in the main;
And full five-and-twenty hundred ships
Perishd all on the coast of Spain.

* * * * *

E

Motherwell’s MS., p. 97.

1
‘Where have you been, my long lost lover,
This seven long years and more?’
‘I’ve been seeking gold for thee, my love,
And riches of great store.

2
‘Now I’m come for the vows you promised me,
You promised me long ago;’
‘My former vows you must forgive,
For I’m a wedded wife.’

3
‘I might have been married to a king’s daughter,
Far, far ayont the sea;
But I refused the crown of gold,
And it’s all for the love of thee.’

4
‘If you might have married a king’s daughter,
Yourself you have to blame;
For I’m married to a ship’s-carpenter,
And to him I have a son.

5
‘Have you any place to put me in,
If I with you should gang?’
‘I’ve seven brave ships upon the sea,
All laden to the brim.

6
‘I’ll build my love a bridge of steel,
All for to help her oer;
Likewise webs of silk down by her side,
To keep my love from the cold.’

7
She took her eldest son into her arms,
And sweetly did him kiss:
‘My blessing go with you, and your father too,
For little does he know of this.’

8
As they were walking up the street,
Most beautiful for to behold,
He cast a glamour oer her face,
And it shone like the brightest gold.

9
As they were walking along the sea-side,
Where his gallant ship lay in,
So ready was the chair of gold
To welcome this lady in.

10
They had not sailed a league, a league,
A league but scarsely three,
Till altered grew his countenance,
And raging grew the sea.

11
When they came to yon sea-side,
She set her down to rest;
It’s then she spied his cloven foot,
Most bitterly she wept.

12
‘O is it for gold that you do weep?
Or is it for fear?
Or is it for the man you left behind
When that you did come here?’

13
‘It is not for gold that I do weep,
O no, nor yet for fear;
But it is for the man I left behind
When that I did come here.

14
‘O what a bright, bright hill is yon,
That shines so clear to see?’
‘O it is the hill of heaven,’ he said,
‘Where you shall never be.’

15
‘O what a black, dark hill is yon,
That looks so dark to me?’
‘O it is the hill of hell,’ he said,
‘Where you and I shall be.

16
‘Would you wish to see the fishes swim
In the bottom of the sea,
Or wish to see the leaves grow green
On the banks of Italy?’

17
‘I hope I’ll never see the fishes swim
On the bottom of the sea,
But I hope to see the leaves grow green
On the banks of Italy.’

18
He took her up to the topmast high,
To see what she could see;
He sunk the ship in a flash of fire,
To the bottom of the sea.

* * * * *

F

Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, fifth edition, 1812, II, 427;
taken down from the recitation of Walter Grieve by William Laidlaw.

1
‘O where have you been, my long, long love,
This long seven years and mair?’
‘O I’m come to seek my former vows
Ye granted me before.’

2
‘O hold your tongue of your former vows,
For they will breed sad strife;
O hold your tongue of your former vows,
For I am become a wife.’

3
He turned him right and round about,
And the tear blinded his ee:
‘I wad never hae trodden on Irish ground,
If it had not been for thee.

4
‘I might hae had a king’s daughter,
Far, far beyond the sea;
I might have had a king’s daughter,
Had it not been for love o thee.’

5
‘If ye might have had a king’s daughter,
Yer sel ye had to blame;
Ye might have taken the king’s daughter,
For ye kend that I was nane.

6
‘If I was to leave my husband dear,
And my two babes also,
O what have you to take me to,
If with you I should go?’

7
‘I hae seven ships upon the sea—
The eighth brought me to land—
With four-and-twenty bold mariners,
And music on every hand.’

8
She has taken up her two little babes,
Kissd them baith cheek and chin:
‘O fair ye weel, my ain two babes,
For I’ll never see you again.’

9
She set her foot upon the ship,
No mariners could she behold;
But the sails were o the taffetie,
And the masts o the beaten gold.

10
She had not sailed a league, a league,
A league but barely three,
When dismal grew his countenance,
And drumlie grew his ee.

11
They had not sailed a league, a league,
A league but barely three,
Until she espied his cloven foot,
And she wept right bitterlie.

12
‘O hold your tongue of your weeping,’ says he,
‘Of your weeping now let me be;
I will shew you how the lilies grow
On the banks of Italy.’

13
‘O what hills are yon, yon pleasant hills,
That the sun shines sweetly on?’
‘O yon are the hills of heaven,’ he said,
‘Where you will never win.’

14
‘O whaten a mountain is yon,’ she said,
‘All so dreary wi frost and snow?’
‘O yon is the mountain of hell,’ he cried,
‘Where you and I will go.’

15
He strack the tap-mast wi his hand,
The fore-mast wi his knee,
And he brake that gallant ship in twain,
And sank her in the sea.

* * * * *

G

Motherwell’s Minstrelsy, p. 93.

1
‘I have seven ships upon the sea,
Laden with the finest gold,
And mariners to wait us upon;
All these you may behold.

2
‘And I have shoes for my love’s feet,
Beaten of the purest gold,
And lined wi the velvet soft,
To keep my love’s feet from the cold.

3
‘O how do you love the ship?’ he said,
‘Or how do you love the sea?
And how do you love the bold mariners
That wait upon thee and me?’

4
‘O I do love the ship,’ she said,
‘And I do love the sea;
But woe be to the dim mariners,
That nowhere I can see!’

5
They had not sailed a mile awa,
Never a mile but one,
When she began to weep and mourn,
And to think on her little wee son.

6
‘O hold your tongue, my dear,’ he said,
‘And let all your weeping abee,
For I’ll soon show to you how the lilies grow
On the banks of Italy.’

7
They had not sailed a mile awa,
Never a mile but two,
Until she espied his cloven foot,
From his gay robes sticking thro.

8
They had not sailed a mile awa,
Never a mile but three,
When dark, dark, grew his eerie looks,
And raging grew the sea.

9
They had not sailed a mile awa,
Never a mile but four,
When the little wee ship ran round about,
And never was seen more.

* * * * *

H

Christie, Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 138; taken down by the
editor’s father from the singing of an aged relative.

1
He’s given her a pair of shoes,
To hold her frae the cold;
The one side of them was velvaret,
And the other beaten gold.

2
Up she has taen her little wee son,
And given him kisses three;
Says, Fare ye weel, my little wee son,
I’m gaun to sail the sea.

* * * * *

#B.#

The Rambler’s Garland, composed of some Delightful New Songs.
_There are four_: _the third_ is The distressed Ship Carpenter.
“1785?”

1^1. my my own.

#E.#

3^2. _Originally_, Had it not been for love of thee.

10^3. _In the margin_, Till grim, grim grew.

11^4. Och hone _under the line_.

14^1. _Altered to_, O whatena.

15^1. _Altered to_, O whatena dark. (_The original readings are
likely to have been the traditional ones._)

17^3. sea.

#F.#

_In a letter to Scott, January 3, 1803, Laidlaw gives some account
of the ballad sung by Walter Grieve, and cites some verses from
recollection, which, not unnaturally, differ from what he
afterwards took down in writing._

“He likewise sung part of a very beautiful ballad which I think
you will not have seen. As a punishment for her inconstancy, the
Devil is supposed to come and entice a young woman from her
husband, in the form of her former lover. The tune is very
solemn and melancholy, and the effect is mixed with a
considerable proportion of horror. I remember but very few
verses. He prevails upon her to go abroad [aboard?] to hear his
musicians, after upbraiding her

‘I might hae marrit a king’s daughter, but
I mindit my love for thee.’

“The description of her setting her child on the nurse’s knee and
bidding him farewell is waesome, but I have forgot it.”

She set her foot into the ship, to hear the music play;
The masts war o the beaten goud, and the sails o the silk sae gay.

They hadna saild a league thrae land, a league but barely three,
Till drearie grew his countenance, and drumlie grew his ee.

They hadna saild another league, another league but three,
Till she beheld his cloven fit, and she wept most bitterlie.

‘O had yer tongue, my love,’ he said, ‘why weep ye sae mournfulie?
We’re gaun to see how the lillies do grow on the banks o fair
Italie.’

‘What hills are yon, yon pleasant hills, where the sun shines [_a
wafer here_]
‘O yon’s the hills of heaven,’ he said, ‘where you will never
win!‘”

_Letters addressed to Sir Walter Scott, Vol. I, No 78,
Abbotsford._

244

JAMES HATLEY

#A. a.# “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 35, MS.
of Thomas Wilkie, p. 6, Abbotsford. #b.# ‘James Hatley,’ Campbell
MSS, II, 289. #c.# ‘James Hatelie,’ R. Chambers, The Romantic
Scottish Ballads, their Epoch and Authorship, p. 37.

#B.# ‘James Hately,’ “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border
Minstrelsy,” No 39, MS. of Thomas Wilkie, p. 18. The same,
transcribed by Thomas Wilkie, “Scotch Ballads,” etc., No 79,
Abbotsford.

#C.# ‘Jamie O’Lee,’ Motherwell’s MS., p. 654.

#A.# ‘Sir Fenwick’ steals the king’s jewels and lays the blame on James Hatley, who is condemned to death. The king’s daughter steals the prison-keys from under her father’s head and pays a visit to Hatley, who assures her of his innocence, and tells her that Fenwick is the man. [#b#, the king is angry, and says that for stealing his jewels Hatley shall die ‘over the barriers:’ so #B#.] The princess goes to her father and begs the life of Hatley, and her boon is granted without demur. She asks one thing more, that Fenwick and Hatley may try their verity at the sword, and this is unhesitatingly conceded. Hatley is but fifteen years old (he is seventeen #b#, eighteen #c#, fifteen again #C#), and Fenwick is thirty-three; nevertheless, Fenwick gets three wounds. An English lord intermits: he would have given all his estates rather than Hatley should escape; a Scots lord replies that he would have fought to the knees in blood before Hatley should have been hanged. (The Scots lord is wanting in b; the passage is likely to be borrowed from ‘Geordie,’ No 209.) The king’s eldest son asks Hatley to dine, and makes him his captain by land and sea;[146] the king’s daughter invites him to dine, and announces that she has made a vow to marry no other man.

#B.# Hatley, accused of stealing the king’s jewels, goes to the little prince and asks what he will do for his page; the prince goes to his father and asks what _he_ will do for the page. The king says that Hatley has stolen his jewels, so a Norland lord has informed him, and Hatley must die ‘over the barriers.’ The prince offers to fight any man who lays the blame on Hatley. Fenwick maintains that Hatley is the thief. The prince gives Fenwick two or three mortal wounds; Fenwick hands him the key of his coffer, and in the coffer the jewels will be found. The king invests Hatley with Fenwick’s lands.

#C.# A false knight, Phenix, steals the queen’s jewels, and leaves the blame on Jamie O’Lee. The king sends for his son and tells him that Jamie has been accused of the theft by an English lord, and shall be banished from Scotland. The prince demands a man to fight with Jamie on this charge, and false Phenix offers himself. The prince at first objects, for Jamie is but fifteen years old, whereas Phenix is of course thirty-three; however, he tells Jamie that he must fight or be banished from _England_ (8, compare 14). Jamie protests his innocence. He fights with Phenix and receives the first wound, then runs Phenix through the body; Phenix owns his guilt. The king tells Jamie to come home with him; every knight in the court shall be at his command. The queen bids Jamie come home with her; he shall have a new livery every month. The prince invites Jamie to come home with him; all his lands in Scotland shall be at Jamie’s command. Jamie thanks king, queen, and nobility; he has been a prince’s page all his life, and a prince’s page he still will be.

Lines representing #B# 12^{3,4}, #C# 17^{3,4}, have been interpolated into the fragment of ‘The Slaughter of the Laird of Mellerstain,’ No 230:

They wad take the lands frae fause Fenwick,
And give them to James Hately.

There is no a month in a’ the year
But changëd should his claithing be.

* * * * *

A

#a.# “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 35, MS.
of Thomas Wilkie, p. 6, Abbotsford; “from Betty Hoyl, who learned it
from her mother,” Gattonside. #b.# Campbell MSS, II, 289. #c.# R.
Chambers, The Romantic Scottish Ballads, etc., 1859, p. 37; “taken
down many years ago from the singing of an old man in the south of
Scotland.”

1
It happened once upon a time,
When the king he was from home,
Sir Fenwick he has stolen his jewels,
And laid the blame on James Hatley.

2
James Hatley was in prison strong,
A wait he was condemned to die;
There was not one in all the court
To speak one word for James Hatley.

3
No one but the king’s daughter,
A wait she loved him tenderlie;
She’s stolen the keys from her father’s head,
And gaed and conversed wi James Hatley.

4
‘Come, tell to me now, James,’ she said,
‘Come, tell to me if thou hast them stolen,
And I’ll make a vow, and I’ll keep it true,
Ye shall never be the worse of me.’

5
‘I have not stolen them, lady,’ he said,
‘Nor as little it was intended by me;
Sir Fenwick he has stolen them himself;
A wait he has laid the blame on me.’

6
‘One asking, one asking, father dear,
One asking, one asking grant to me,
For I never asked one in my life;
I am sure you cannot but grant it to me.’

7
‘Weel ask it, weel ask it, daughter dear,
Ask it, and it granted shall be;
If it should be my hole estate,
Naesaid, naesaid, it shall not be.’

8
‘I want none of your gold, father,
And I want none of your fee;
All that I ask, father dear,
It is the life of James Hatley.’

9
‘Weel ask it, weel ask it, daughter dear,
Weel ask it, and it answerëd shall be;
For I’ll make a vow, and I’ll keep it true,
James Hatley shall never hangëd be.’

10
‘Another asking, father dear,
Another asking grant to me;
Let Fenwick and Hatley go [to] the sword,
And let them try their verity.’

11
‘’Tis weel askëd, daughter dear,
’Tis weel asked, and it granted shall be;
For eer the morn or twelve o’clock
They both at the point of the sword shall be.’

12
James Hatley was fifteen years old,
Sir Fenwick he was thirty three;
But James lap about, and he struck about,
Till he’s gaen Sir Fenwick wounds three.

13
‘Hold up, hold up, James Hatley,’ he cry’d,
‘And let my breath go out and in;
For I have stolen them myself,
More shame and disgrace it is to me.’

14
Up and spake an English lord,
And O but he spake haughtily!
‘I would reather given my whole estates
Before ye had not hanged James Hatley.’

15
But up and spake a Scottish lord,
And O but he spake boldly!
‘I would reather hae foughten among blood to the knees
Before ye had hanged James Hatley.’

16
Up and spake the king’s eldest son,
‘Come hame, James Hatley, and dine wi me;
For I’ve made a vow, I’ll keep it true,
Ye’s be my captain by land and by sea.’

17
Up and spake the king’s daughter,
‘Come home, James Hatley, and dine wi me;
For I’ve made a vow, I’ll keep it true,
I’ll never marry a man but thee.’

* * * * *

B

“Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 39, MS. of
Thomas Wilkie, p. 18, “as sung by Chirsty Robertson, Dunse.” The
same, transcribed by Thomas Wilkie, “Scotch Ballads,” etc., No 79.
Abbotsford.

1
It happened once upon a time,
When the king he was from home,
False Fennick he has stolen his jewels,
And laid the blame on James Hately.

2
The day was sett . . . .
And the wind blew shill oer the lea;
There was not one in all the court
To speak a word for James Hately.

3
James is to the prince’s chamber gone,
And he’s bowd low down on his knee:
‘What will ye do for me, my little pretty prince?
O what will ye do for your page, James Hately?’

4
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
‘And I will away to my father, the king,
And see if your life can savëd be.’

5
The prince he’s to his father gone,
And he’s bowed low down on his knee:
‘What will ye do for me, my father?
O what will ye do for my page, James Hately?’

6
‘James Hately has my jewels stolen,
A Norland lord hath told it to me;
James Hately has my jewels stolen,
And oer the barras he maun die.’

7
The prince he drew his little brown sword—
It was made of the metal so free—
And he swore he would fight them man by man
That would lay the blame on James Hately.

8
Up then spoke the false Fennick,
And an ill-spoken man was he;
‘James Hately has the king’s jewels stolen,
. . . . . . . .’

9
The prince he drew his little brown sword—
It was made of the metal so free—
And he’s thrust it in false Fennick’s side,
And given him death-wounds two or three.

10
‘O hold your hand, my little pretty prince,
And let my breath go out and in,
For spilling of my noble blood
And shaming of my noble kin.

11
‘O hold your hand, my little pretty prince,
And let my breath go out and in,
And there’s the key of my coffer,
And you’ll find the king’s jewels lying therein.’

12
‘If this be true,’ the king he said,
‘If this be true ye tell to me,
I will take your lands, false Fennick,’ he said,
‘And give them all to James Hately.’

* * * * *

C

Motherwell’s MS., p. 654; “from the recitation of the wife of
Charles Drain, sow-gelder, etc., Kilmarnock.”

1
There was a fause knicht in the court,
And he was fu o treacherie,
And he staw the queen’s jewels in the nicht,
And left the wyte on Jamie O’Lee.

2
The king he wrate a braid letter,
And sealed it richt tenderlie,
And he sent it to his only son,
To come and speak to him speedilie.

3
When he cam afore the king,
He kneeled low down on his knee:
‘What is your will, my sovereign leige?
What is your will? cum tell to me.’

4
‘Jamie O’Lee has my jewels stown,
As the English lord tells unto me,
And out o Scotland he shall be sent,
And sent awa to Germanie.’

5
‘O no, O no,’ then said the prince,
‘Sic things as that can never be;
But get me a man that will take on hand
The morn to fecht young Jamie O’Lee.’

6
Syne out and spak the fause Phenix,
And oh, he spak richt spitefullie;
‘I am the man will tak on han
To fecht and conquer Jamie O’Lee.’

7
‘Oh no, oh no,’ syne said the prince,
‘Sic things as that can never bee,
For Jamie O’Lee’s no fifteen years auld,
And ye, fause Phenix, are thretty three.’

8
The prince he mounted then wi speed,
He’s aff wi tidings to Jamie O’Lee,
Saying, The morn’s morning ye maun fecht,
Or out o England banisht bee.

9
When Jamie O’Lee the tidings heard,
Fast the saut tear blindit his ee;
‘I’m saikless o thae jewels,’ he said,
‘As the bairn that sits on the nourice knee.’

10
Then Phenix munted a scaffold hie,
A’ for to shaw his veritie;
Whilk gart the nobles a’ to cry
‘A dead man are ye, Jamie O’Lee!’

11
The first straik the fause Phenix gied,
He gart the blude rin speedilie;
It gart the prince’s heart to ache,
And cry, Oh, alace for my Jamie O’Lee!

12
Jamie O’Lee he stepped back,
Waiting for opportunitie,
And wi his sword baith lang and sharp
He ran it thro Phenix fause bodie.

13
‘O haud your hand, Jamie O’Lee,’ he said,
‘And let the breath remain in me,
And skail nae mair o my noble blude,
’Tis a great disgrace to my loyaltie.’

14
‘Confess, confess, ye fause Phenix,
Confess your faults this day to me;
Were there nae mair men in a’ England,
My ain twa hands your death suld be.’

15
‘Ye were sae great wi king and queen,
I thocht I wuld hae banisht thee,
And I staw the queen’s jewels in the nicht,
And left the wyte on Jamie O’Lee.’

16
Syne out and spak the king himsell,
Saying, Jamie O’Lee, come hame wi me,
And there’s no a knicht in a’ my court
But what at your command sall be.

17
Syne out and spak the queen hersell,
Saying, Jamie O’Lee, come hame wi me,
And there’s no a month in a’ the year
But changed and brothered ye sall be.

18
Syne out and spak the prince himsell,
Saying, Jamie O’Lee, come hame wi me;
I hae free lands in a’ Scotland,
And at your command they a’ sall be.

19
‘I thank ye, king, and I thank ye, queen,
I thank ye a’, nobilitie,
But a prince’s page I was a’ my life,
And a prince’s page I yet will be.’

20
The king gied him a silk waistcoat,
And it was lined wi the taffetie,
Wi a band o gowd around his neck,
And a prince’s page he seems to be.

* * * * *

#A. a.#

1^1. day _written over_ time.

1^2. from home was he?

2^2, 3^2, 5^4. Await.

4^2. _The_ -ee _rhyme may be restored by transposing_ Come tell to
me, as in #c# (_or adding_ said she).

7^4. Nae said, nae said.

13^2–13^3. _Two half-stanzas are wanting here_: _see_ #b#, #c#.

_16 follows 17, but see_ #b#, #c#.

#b.#

1^2. king was from home but lately.

1^3. That Sir.

2^1. was laid.

2^2, 3^2, 5^4. I wat.

2^3. And there’s not a man in.

2^4. Wad speak.

3^1. king’s fair.

3^4. And went in and.

4^2. if you have.

4^3. vow, I’ll.

5^2. was it.

5^4. And I wat he’s.

_After 5_:

* * * * *

Up then spak the king himsel,
And an angry man I wot was he:
‘For stealin o my jewels rare,
Hatlie shall oer the barriers die.’

6^{1,2}. A boon, a boon, O.

6^3. askit a boon before.

6^4. And I’m sure that you will grant it me.

7^1. O ask it, ask it.

7^3. And gin it be the half o my estate.

7^4. Granted sal it be to thee.

8.
‘O grant me this favour, father dear,
O grant this favour unto me,
For I never askëd favour before;
O spare the life of James Hatlie!’

9. _Wanting._

10^3. Let Hatley and Fenwick go to.

11^1. Well askëd, well askëd.

11^2. Well asked.

11^3. Before the morn at.

12^1. he was seventeen.

12^3. But _wanting_: strak.

12^4. gien.

13^1. he said. _Between_ 13^2 _and_ 13^3:

‘For this is spillin of noble blude,
And shamein of my noble kin.

‘Hold up, hold up,’ Sir Fenwick he said,
‘Hold up, and ye sal justified be;’

13^3. stolen the jewels myself.

14^1. Up then spake a southern.

14^3. rather have given the half o my land.

14^4. Before James Hatlie should not hanged be.

15. _Wanting._

16, 17. _The son speaks before the daughter._

16^1, 17^1. Up then.

16^3. For from this hour receive this dower.

16^4. Ye sal be.

17^{3,4}. For ere the sun gae down this night, O there’s my hand,
I’ll marry thee.

#c.#

1^1. It fell upon a certain day.

1^2. from home he chanced to be.

1^3. The king’s jewels they were stolen all.

1^4. And they.

2^1. And he is into prison cast.

2^2. And I wat he is.

2^3. For there was not a man.

2^4. speak a.

3.
But the king’s eldest daughter she loved him well,
But known her love it might not be;
And she has stolen the prison-keys,
And gane in and discoursed wi James Hatelie.

4^1. Oh, did you steal them, James.

4^2. Oh, did not you steal them? come tell to me.

4^3. For I’ll.

4^4. You’s.

5^1. I did not steal them, James.

5^2. And neither was it.

5^3. For the English they stole them themselves.

5^4. And I wat they’ve.

6^{1,2}.
Now she has hame to her father gane,
And bowed her low down on her knee;
‘I ask, I ask, I ask, father,’ she said,
‘I ask, I ask a boon of thee.’

6^3. For _wanting_.

6^4. And one of them you must grant to me.

7^{1,2}. Ask on, ask on, daughter, he said, And aye weel answered
ye shall be.

7^3. For if it were my whole.

7^4. you shall.

8^1. I ask.

8^2. As little of your white monie.

8^3. But all the asken that I do ask.

9^1. Ask on, ask on, daughter, he said.

9^2. And aye weel answered ye.

9^3. and keep.

9^4. shall not.

10^1. asken I ask, father: dear _wanting_.

10^2. asken I ask of thee. 10^3. go to.

11^{1,2}. Ask on, ask on, daughter, he said, And aye weel answered
you shall be.

11^3. For before the morn at.

12^1. eighteen years of age.

12^2. False F. was thirty years and three.

12^3. He lap: strack.

12^4. And he gave false F.

13^1. Oh, hold your hand, J. H., he said.

_Between 13^2 and 13^3_:

‘Were it not for the spilling of my noble blood,
And the shaming of my noble kin.

‘Oh, hold your hand, James Hatelie,’ he said,
‘Oh, hold your hand, and let me be.’

13^3. For I’m the man that stole the jewels.

13^4. And a: it was. 14^1. Then up bespoke.

14^2. I wat but he.

14^3. rather have lost all my lands.

14^4. they had.

15^1. Then up bespoke a good Scotch.

15^2. I wat a good Scotch lord was he.

15^3. to the knees in blood.

15^4. Than they.

16, 17. _The son speaks before the daughter._

16^1, 17^1. Then up bespoke.

16^2, 17^2. Come in.

16^3, 17^3. I’ll make: and I’ll.

16^3. You’se: and sea.

17^1. king’s eldest.

#B.#

_The copy transcribed by Wilkie has been edited a little. 2^{1,2},
originally written in one line, are rightly divided as here;
2^{3,4} are made the concluding half of another stanza._

2^4. Would speak one.

3^1. James he.

3^4. O _omitted_.

4^3. And _omitted_.

5^1. prince is: father’s chamber.

6^2. to _omitted_.

9^2. That hung low down by his knee.

9^3. it _wanting_.

9^4. Then gave him.

11 _is put before 10, and 10^{1,2} omitted._

11^4. king’s laying (_careless copying_).

12^3. false _omitted_.

_Wilkie notes (No 39) that he had_ “heard this sung also by a
shepherd on Soltra hill,” _but it is not likely that these
variations were derived from the shepherd._

#C.#

9^1. When Johnie.

14^3. War _for_ Were _originally_.

17^4. brothered _in the MS._

245

YOUNG ALLAN

#A.# Skene MS., p. 33.

#B.# ‘Young Allan,’ Buchan’s MSS, II, 182.

#C.# ‘Young Allan,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 11.

#D.# ‘Young Allan,’ Murison MS., p. 117.

#E.# ‘Earl Patrick,’ Kinloch MSS, V, 395.

The copy in Christie’s Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 252, is abridged from #C#, with half a dozen arbitrary and insignificant changes.

Skippers (lords) of Lothain, #A#, of Scarsburgh, #C#, of Aberdeen, #D#, are bragging over their drink: some, absurdly enough, of their hawks and hounds, #A-C#, some of their ladies, young Allan of his ship, which will outsail all others but three.[147] A boy in #A#, #C#, says that his master has a boat (it is a coal-carrier in #C#) which will take the wind from him. A wager is laid, #A#, #B#, #C#. All the rest go to drinking, ‘to the tows,’ but Allan to his prayers, #C# 8. They sail; there is a terrible storm, in the course of which the three competitors are ‘rent in nine,’ #A# 9, or two of them sink, and the topmast of the third ‘gaes in nine,’ #E# 7–9.

In #A# they have sailed only a few leagues, when Allan’s ship is so racked by the storm that they see water through her sides. At this point, especially in #A#, Allan’s seamanship appears to very little advantage; he is more of a fair-weather yachtsman than of a skeely skipper. If he could get a bonny boy to take the helm and bring the ship in safe, the boy should have a liberal share of his gold and land, and a daughter Ann besides, whom one is surprised that Young Allan should have to offer. In #A# and #D# the bonny boy evidently takes command of the ship, although in #A# 18 the sailors ascribe their safety, under God, to their good master. The ballad indeed suffers almost as grievously as the comely cog.

In #B-E# Allan calls for a bonny boy to take the helm while he goes to the masthead to look for land. In #D# he makes the same promises as in #A#, but the bonny boy cares only for Ann. In #B#, #C# the bonny boy suggests that Allan should waken his drunken men, for whom good thick shoes had been bought, though none had been given him. But in all the boy takes the helm, and in fact keeps it till the ship is in. Allan, at the masthead, can see neither day nor landmark; many feather-beds are floating on the water, #B#, #C#. The boy calls his master down; the sea can be seen through the ship’s sides, #B-E#.

Orders are given, by the boy or by Allan (by the boy certainly in #D#, and by Allan in #E#), to take feather-beds and canvas and lay, busk, or wrap the ship round; pitch and tar are also recommended in #B#, #C#. This done, Allan addresses the ship: Spring up, and gold shall be your hire, #A#; Haste to dry land, and every nail that is in you shall be a gold pin, #B#; For every iron nail in you, of gold there shall be ten, #C#; in #D#, indirectly, Where she wants an iron nail drive in a silver pin, and where she wants an oaken bolt beat in the gold, and the like in #E#. When the ship hears this, she springs from the water like sparks from the fire, #A-C#.

The first shore they come to is Troup, #B#, Howdoloot, #C#, Linn, #D#, #E#. The ship is kept off with cannon, #B#, #C#, with spears and bayonets, #D#; is towed in (wrongly), #E#. The next shore they come to is Lee, #B#, #E#, Howdilee, #C#, wanting in #D#; ‘they bare her to the sea,’ #C#, ‘they turned their ship about,’ #D#, the ship is towed in (wrongly), #B#, #E#. The third shore they come to is Lin, #B#, Howdilin, #C#, Aberdeen, #D#; the ship is towed in (welcomed), with drums beating and pipes playing, #B#, #C#, #D#.

Allan calls for the bonny boy that brought the ship safe in, that took the helm in hand, and offers him gold, land, and his daughter; the boy rejects gold and land, and takes the daughter, #A#, #D#; Allan makes over to the boy his comely cog and gives him his daughter, #B#; gives him his daughter, #C#.

Five-and-forty ships, #A#, three-and-fifty, #C#, one-and-twenty, #E#, went to sea, and only one came back.[148]

This ballad is mixed with that of ‘Sir Patrick Spens,’ No 58, II, 21 ff. #E# 1–6 belong entirely to No 58, and #K# 6–10, #M# 1, 3, of No 58 belong to ‘Young Allan.’ The bonny boy is found in 58, #B#, #C#, #E#, #G#, #I#, #J#; the floating feather-beds occur in #E-H#, #J#, #O#, #R#; the sea is seen through the ship in 58, #C# 15, #I# 21; cloth is wapped into the ship’s side to keep out water, #H# 19, 20; feather-beds and canvas (and pitch) are used as here in #I# 22, 23.

By far the most interesting feature in this ballad is Allan’s addressing his ship and the ship’s intelligent behavior, #A# 16, 17, #B# 12–15, #C# 21–22. Friðþjóf’s ship Elliða understood and obeyed the speech of its master: Fornaldar Sogur, II, 79, 443 (cited by Bugge). Ranild’s ship came to him when he blew his horn: ‘Svend Ranild,’ Grundtvig, No 28, I, 367 (translated by Prior, I, 286). In another Danish ballad, and one of the best, the Ox when sailed by St Olav, responds to his commands as if fully endowed with consciousness; he thwacks it in the side and over the eye, and it goes faster and faster; but it is animate only for the nonce: ‘Hellig-Olavs Væddefart,’ Grundtvig, No 50, II, 134, Prior, I, 356.

The Phæacian ships have neither helmsman nor helm, and know men’s minds and the way to all cities: Odyssey, viii, 557 ff. There is a magical self-moving ship in Marie de France’s Guigemar, and elsewhere.

* * * * *

A

Skene MS., p. 33; taken down in the north of Scotland, 1802–3

1
A’ the skippers of bonny Lothain,
As they sat at the wine,
There fell a reesin them amang,
An it was in unhappy time.

2
Some o them reesd their hawks,
An some o them their hounds,
An some o them their ladies gay,
Trod neatly on the ground;
Young Allan he reesd his comely cog,
That lay upon the strand.

3
‘I hae as good a ship this day
As ever sailed our seas,
Except it be the Burges Black,
But an the Small Cordvine,
The Comely Cog of Dornisdale;
We’s lay that three bye in time.’

4
Out spak there a little boy,
Just at Young Allan’s knee:
‘Ye lie, ye lie, Young Allan,
Sae loud’s I hear ye lie.

5
‘For my master has a little boat
Will sail thrice as well as thine;
For she’ll gang in at your foremast,
An gae out your fore-lee,
An nine times in a winter night
She’ll tak the wind frae thee.’

6
‘O what will ye wad, ye Young Allan?
Or what will ye wad wi me?’
‘I’ll wad my head against your land
Till I get more monnie.’

7
They had na saild a league,
A league but barely three,
But through an thro the bonny ship
They saw the green wall sea.

8
They had na saild a league,
A league but barely five,
But through an thro their bonny ship
They saw the green well wave.

9
He gaed up to the topmast,
To see what he coud see,
And there he saw the Burgess Black,
But an the Small Cordvine,
The Comely Cog of Dornisdale;
The three was rent in nine.

10
Young Allan grat an wrang his hands,
An he kent na what to dee:
‘The win is loud, and the waves are proud,
An we’ll a’ sink in the sea.

11
‘But gin I coud get a bonny boy
Wad tak my helm in han,
That would steer my bonny ship,
An bring her safe to land,

12
‘He shoud get the twa part o my goud,
The third part o my land,
An gin we win safe to shore
He shoud get my dochter Ann.’

13
‘O here am I, a bonny boy
That will tak your helm in han,
An will steer your bonny ship
An bring her safe to lan.

14
‘Ye tak four-an-twenty feather-beds
An lay the bonny ship round,
An as much of the good canvas
As mak her hale an soun.’

15
They took four-an-twenty feather-beds
An laid the bonny ship roun,
An as much o the good canvas
As made her hale an soun.

16
‘Spring up, spring up, my bonny ship,
An goud sall be your hire!’
Whan the bonny ship heard o that,
That goud shoud be her hire,
She sprang as fast frae the sat water
As sparks do frae the fire.

17
‘Spring up, spring up, my bonny ship,
And goud sall be your fee!’
Whan the bonny ship heard o that,
That goud shoud be her fee,
She sprang as fast frae the sat water
As the leaf does frae the tree.

18
The sailors stan on the shore-side,
Wi their auld baucheld sheen:
‘Thanks to God an our guid master
That ever we came safe to land!’

19
‘Whar is the bonny boy
That took my helm in han,
That steerd my bonny ship,
An brought her safe to lan?

20
‘He’s get the twa part o my goud,
The third part o my lan,
An, since we’re come safe to shore,
He’s get my dochter Ann.’

21
‘O here am I, the bonny boy
That took your helm in han,
That steered your bonny ship,
An brought her safe to lan.

22
‘I winna hae the twa part o your goud,
Nor the third part o your lan,
But, since we hae win safe to shore,
I’ll wed your dochter Ann.’

23
Forty ships went to the sea,
Forty ships and five,
An there never came ane o a’ back,
But Young Allan, alive.

* * * * *

B

Buchan’s MSS, II, 182

1
There were four-an-twenty sailors bold
Sat drinking at the wine;
There fell a rousing them among,
In an unseally time.

2
Some there reasd their hawk, their hawk,
And some there reasd their hound,
But Young Allan reasd his comely cog,
As she floats on the feam.

3
‘There’s not a ship amang you a’
Will sail alang wi me,
But the comely cog o Heckland Hawk,
And Flower o Germanie,
And the Black Snake o Leve London;
They are all gane frae me.’

4
The wager was a gude wager,
Of fifty tuns of wine,
And as much o the gude black silk
As cleathd their lemans fine.

5
At midnight dark the wind up stark,
The seas began to rout;
Young Allan and his bonny new ship
Gaed three times witherlins about.

6
‘O faer will I get a bonny boy
Will take my helm in hand
Ere I gang up to the tapmast-head
To look for some dry land?’

7
‘O waken, waken your drunken men,
As they lie drunk wi wine;
For when ye came thro Edinburgh town
Ye bought them shoes o ben.

8
‘There was no shoe made for my feet,
Nor gluve made for my hand;
But nevertheless, my dear master,
I’ll take your helm in hand
Till ye gae to the topmast head
And look for some dry land.’

9
‘I cannot see no day, no day,
Nor no meathe can I ken;
But mony a bonny feather-bed
Lies floating on the faem.’

10
‘Come down, come down, my dear master,
You see not what I see;
Through an through your bonny new ship
Comes in the green haw sea.’

11
‘Take fifty ells o the canvas broad
And wrap it in a’ roun,
And as much o good pich an tar
Make her go hale an soun.

12
‘Sail on, sail on, my bonny ship,
And haste ye to dry lan,
And every nail that is in you
Shall be a gay gold pin.

13
‘Sail on, sail on, my bonny ship,
And hae me to some lan,
And a firlot full o guineas red
Will be dealt at the lan’s end.’

14
The ship she hearkend to their voice
And listend to their leed,
And she gaed thro the green haw sea
Like fire out o a gleed.

15
When the ship got word o that,
Goud was to be her beat,
She’s flowen thro the stormy seas
Like sparks out o a weet.

16
The first an shore that they came till,
It was the shore o Troup;
Wi cannons an great shooting there,
They held Young Allan out.

17
The next an shore that they came till,
It was the shore o Lee;
Wi piping an sweet singing there,
They towed Young Allan tee.

18
The next an shore that they came till,
It was the shore o Lin;
Wi drums beating and pipers playing,
They towed Young Allan in,
And Allan’s lady she was there,
To welcome Allan hame.

19
‘O faer is my little boy,’ he said,
‘That I brought oer the sea?’
‘I’m coming, master, running, master,
At your command shall be.’

20
‘O take to you my comely cog,
And wed my daughter free,
And a’ for this ae night’s wark
That ye did wake wi me.’

* * * * *

C

Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 11

1
All the skippers o Scarsburgh
Sat drinking at the wine;
There fell a rousing them amang,
On an unseally time.

2
Some there rousd their hawk, their hawk,
And some there rousd their hound,
But Young Allan rousd his comely cog,
As she stood on dry ground.

3
‘There’s nae a ship in Scarsburgh
Will sail the seas wi mine,
Except it be the Burgess Black,
Or than the smack calld Twine.

4
‘There’s nae a ship amang you a’
Will sail alang wi me,
But the comely cog o Hecklandhawk,
And Flower o Yermanie,
And the Black Snake o Leve London;
They are a’ gane frae me.’

5
Out it speaks a little wee boy
Stood by Young Allan’s knee;
‘My master has a coal-carrier
Will take the wind frae thee.

6
‘She will gae out under the leaf,
Come in under the lee,
And nine times in a winter night
She’ll turn the wind wi thee.’

7
When they had wagerd them amang
Full fifty tuns o wine,
Besides as mickle gude black silk
As clathe their lemans fine,

8
When all the rest went to the tows,
All the whole night to stay,
Young Allan he went to his bower,
There with his God to pray.

9
‘There shall nae man gang to my ship
Till I say mass and dine,
And take my leave o my lady;
Gae to my bonny ship syne.’

10
Then they saild east on Saturday,
On Sunday sailëd west;
Likewise they sailed on Mononday
Till twelve, when they did rest.

11
At midnight dark the wind up stark,
And seas began to rout,
Till Allan and his bonny new ship
Gaed three times witherlands about.

12
‘O,’ sighing says the Young Allan,
‘I fear a deadly storm;
For mony a heaving sinking sea
Strikes sair on my ship’s stern.

13
‘Where will I get a little wee boy
Will take my helm in hand
Till I gang up to my tapmast
And see for some dry land?’

14
‘O waken, waken your drunken men,
As they lye drunk wi wine;
For when ye came thro Edinbro town
Ye bought them sheen o ben.

15
‘There was nae shoe made for my foot,
Nor gluve made for my hand;
But nevertheless, my dear master,
I’ll take your helm in hand
Till ye gang to the tall tapmast
And look for some dry land.

16
‘And here am I, a little wee boy
Will take your helm in han
Till ye gang up to your tapmast,
But, master, stay not lang.’

17
‘I cannot see nae day, nae day,
Nor nae meathe can I ken;
But mony a bonny feather-bed
Lyes floating on the faem,
And the comely cog o Normanshore,
She never will gang hame.’

18
The comely cog o Nicklingame
Came sailing by his hand;
Says, Gae down, gae down, ye gude skipper,
Your ship sails on the sand.

19
‘Come down, come down, my gude master,
Ye see not what I see;
For thro and thro our comely cog
I see the green haw sea.’

20
‘Take fifty ells o gude canvas
And wrap the ship a’ round;
And pick her weell, and spare her not,
And make her hale and sound.

21
‘If ye will sail, my bonny ship,
Till we come to dry land,
For ilka iron nail in you,
Of gowd there shall be ten.’

22
The ship she listend all the while,
And, hearing of her hire,
She flew as swift threw the saut sea
As sparks do frae the fire.

23
The first an shore that they came till,
They ca’d it Howdoloot;
Wi drums beating and cannons shouting,
They held our gude ship out.

24
The next an shore that they came till,
They ca’d it Howdilee;
Wi drums beating and fifes playing,
They bare her to the sea.

25
The third an shore that they came till,
They ca’d it Howdilin;
Wi drums beating and pipes playing,
They towd our gude ship in.

26
The sailors walkd upon the shore,
Wi their auld baucheld sheen,
And thanked God and their Lady,
That brought them safe again.

27
‘For we went out o Scarsburgh
Wi fifty ships and three;
But nane o them came back again
But Young Allan, ye see.’

28
‘Come down, come down, my little wee boy,
Till I pay you your fee;
I hae but only ae daughter,
And wedded to her ye’se be.’

* * * * *

D

Murison MS., p. 117; learned by Mrs Murison from her mother, Old
Deer, Aberdeenshire.

1
There was three lords sat drinkin wine
In bonnie Aberdeen, [O]
. . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . .

2
Some o them talked o their merchandise,
An some o their ladies fine, [O]
But Young Allan he talked o his bonnie ship,
That cost him mony a poun.

* * * * * *

3
‘Whar will I get a bonnie wee boy
That’ll tak my helm in han, O
Till I gang up to my high topmast
An look oot for some dry lan?