Chapter XXXIV: Appendix (10)

‘Charles Graeme,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 89, Motherwell’s MS., p. 624, begins with stanzas which belong to this ballad. What follows after the third, or just possibly the sixth, stanza reads as if some contributor had been diverting himself with an imposition on the editor’s simplicity. Buchan himself remarks in a note, p. 299: “There seems to be a very great inconsistency manifested throughout the whole of this ballad in the lady’s behavior towards the ghost of her departed lover. Perhaps she wished to sit and sigh alone, undisturbed with visits from the inhabitants of the grave.” (Translated by Gerhard, p. 63.)

1
‘Cauld, cauld blaws the winter night,
Sair beats the heavy rain;
Young Charles Graeme’s the lad I love,
In greenwood he lies slain.

2
‘But I will do for Charles Graeme
What other maidens may;
I’ll sit and harp upon his grave
A twelvemonth and a day.’

3
She harped a’ the live-lang night,
The saut tears she did weep,
Till at the hour o one o’clock
His ghost began to peep.

4
Pale and deadly was his cheek,
And pale, pale was his chin;
And how and hollow were his een,
No light appeard therein.

5
‘Why sit ye here, ye maiden fair,
To mourn sae sair for me?’
‘I am sae sick, and very love-sick,
Aye foot I cannot jee.

6
‘Sae well’s I loved young Charles Graeme,
I kent he loved me;
My very heart’s now like to break
For his sweet companie.’

7
‘Will ye hae an apple, lady,
And I will sheave it sma?’
‘I am sae sick, and very love-sick,
I cannot eat at a’.’

8
‘Will ye hae the wine, lady,
And I will drain it sma?’
‘I am sae sick, and very love-sick,
I cannot drink at a’.

9
‘See ye not my father’s castle,
Well covered ower wi tin?
There’s nane has sic an anxious wish
As I hae to be in.’

10
‘O hame, fair maid, ye’se quickly won,
But this request grant me;
When ye are safe in downbed laid,
That I may sleep wi thee.’

11
‘If hame again, sir, I could win,
I’ll this request grant thee;
When I am safe in downbed laid,
This night ye’se sleep wi me.’

12
Then he poud up a birken bow,
Pat it in her right han,
And they are to yon castle fair,
As fast as they coud gang.

13
When they came to yon castle fair,
It was piled round about;
She slipped in and bolted the yetts,
Says, Ghaists may stand thereout.

14
Then he vanishd frae her sight
In the twinkling o an ee;
Says, Let never ane a woman trust
Sae much as I’ve done thee.

80. Old Robin of Portingale.

P. 240, 513 a, III, 514. Mabillon cites Balderic’s history of the first crusade, whose words are: “Multi etiam de gente plebeia crucem sibi divinitus innatam jactando ostentabant, quod et idem quædam ex mulierculis præsumpserunt; hoc enim falsum deprehensum est omnino. Multi vero ferrum callidum instar crucis sibi adhibuerunt, vel peste jactantiæ, vel bonæ suæ voluntatis ostentatione.” Migne, Patrologiæ Curs. Compl., tom. clxvi, col. 1070.

A man who is looking forward to a pilgrimage to the Holy Land wishes to have the cross burned into his right shoulder, since then, though he should be stript of his clothes, the cross would remain: Miracula S. Thomæ, Auctore Benedicto, Robertson, Materials for the History of Thomas Becket, II, 175. The branding of the cross in the flesh must have become common, since it was forbidden by the canon law. In some editions of the Sarum Missal, a warning is inserted in the Servitium Peregrinorum: “Combustio crucis in carne peregrinis euntibus Hierusalem prohibitum est in lege, secundum jura canonica, sub pœna excommunicationis majoris.” Sarum Missal, Burntisland, 1867, col. 856*. (Cited by Cutts, Scenes and Characters of the Middle Ages, p. 167.)

81. Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard.

P. 242 ff. #F#, which Jamieson says he received from Scotland, happens to have been preserved at Abbotsford. Since Jamieson made a considerable number of small changes, the original text is now given here.

“Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 133 c, Abbotsford; in the handwriting of James Hogg.

1
‘I have a towr in Dalesberry,
Whilk now is dearly dight,
And I will gie it to young Musgrave,
To lodge wi me a night.’

2
‘To lodge wi thee a night, fair lady,
Wad breed baith sorrow and strife;
For I see by the rings on your fingers
Ye’re good Lord Barnaby’s wife.’

3
‘Lord Barnaby’s wife although I be,
Yet what is that to thee?
For we’l beguile him for this ae night;
He’s on to fair Dundee.

4
‘Come here, come here, my little foot-page,
This guinea I will give thee,
If ye will keep thir secrets closs
Tween young Musgrave an me.

5
‘But here hae I a little pen-knife,
Hings low down by my gare;
If ye dinna keep thir secrets closs,
Ye’l find it wonder sair.’

6
Then she’s taen him to her chamber,
An down in her arms lay he;
The boy koost off his hose an shoon
An ran for fair Dundee.

7
When he came to the wan water,
He slackd his bow an swam,
An when he wan to growan gress
Set down his feet an ran.

8
And whan he came to fair Dundee,
Could nouther rap nor ca,
But set his braid bow to his breast
An merrily jumpd the wa.

9
‘O waken ye, waken ye, my good lord,
Waken, an come away!’
‘What ails, what ails my wee foot-page
He cry’s sae lang or day?

10
‘O is my towers burnt, my boy?
Or is my castle won?
Or has the lady that I loe best
Brought me a daughter or son?’

11
‘Your halls are safe, your towers are safe
An free frae all alarms;
But oh, the lady that ye loe best
Lyes sound i Musgrave’s arms.’

12
‘Gae saddle me the black,’ he cry’d,
‘Gae saddle me the gray;
Gae saddle me the milk-white steed,
To hie me out the way.’

13
‘O lady, I heard a wee horn tout,
An it blew wonder clear,
An ay the turnin o the note
Was, Barnaby will be here!

14
‘I thought I heard a wee horn blaw,
An it blew loud an hie,
An ay at ilka turn it said,
Away, Musgrave, away!’

15
‘Lye still, my dear, lye still, my dear,
Ye keep me frae the cold!
For it is but my father’s shepherds,
Drivin there flocks to the fold.’

16
Up they lookit, an down they lay,
An they’re fa’n sound asleep;
Till up start good Lord Barnaby,
Just closs at their bed-feet.

17
‘How do ye like my bed, Musgrave?
An how like ye my sheets?
An how like ye my fair lady,
Lyes in your arms an sleeps?’

18
‘Weel I like your bed, my lord,
An weel I like your sheets;
But ill like I your fair lady,
Lyes in my arms an sleeps.

19
‘You got your wale o se’en sisters,
An I got mine o five;
So take ye mine, an I’s take thine,
An we nae mair shall strive.’

20
‘O my woman’s the best woman
That ever brake world’s bread,
But your woman’s the worst woman
That ever drew coat oer head.

21
‘I have two swords in my scabbart,
They are baith sharp an clear;
Take ye the best, and I the worst,
An we’l end the matter here.

22
‘But up an arm thee, young Musgrave,
We’l try it hand to hand;
It’s neer be said o Lord Barnaby
He struck at a naked man.’

23
The first stroke that young Musgrave got,
It was baith deep an sair,
An down he fell at Barnaby’s feet,
An word spak never mair.

24
‘A grave! a grave!’ Lord Barnaby cry’d,
‘A grave to lay them in!
My lady shall lye on the sunny side,
Because of her noble kin.’

25
But O how sorry was that good lord,
For a’ his angry mood,
When he espy’d his ain young son
All weltering in his blood!

The following copy was kindly communicated to me by Mr David MacRitchie, Honorary Secretary of the Gypsy Lore Society, in advance of its publication in the Journal of the society. While it preserves the framework of the story, it differs very considerably in details from all the printed copies. It is evidently of the same origin as some of the Scottish versions (all of which seem to derive from print), though it has no marked resemblance to the actual form of any particular one of these. Some peculiarities are plausibly attributable to dim or imperfect recollection. Thus, the ball-play of #D#, #E#, etc., is turned into a ball. Lord Barnard is made a king, and the page the king’s brother (neither of which changes is an improvement). We may observe that in #J# Lord Barnabas is at the king’s court, and in #I# Sir Grove is Lord Bengwill’s brother; but these points are not decisive, and the changes may be purely arbitrary. 4 shows traces of #E# 5 and #F# 3; 8 may have been suggested by something like #G# 4; and the last line of 14 looks like a corruption of #G# 29. This involves the supposition that the source of the ballad was a version somewhat different from any hitherto recovered; but ‘Little Musgrave’ is one of the best known of all ballads, and the variants must have been innumerable. On the whole, 1–8, 14, present a free treatment of ill-remembered matter; 9–13 are fairly well preserved; compare #E# 13–17.

* * * * *

O

‘Moss Groves,’ taken down in 1891 by Mr John Sampson, Liverpool, from Philip Murray, an old tinker, who learned the ballad in his boyhood from an old gypsy named Amos Rice.

1
There was four-and-twenty ladies
Assembled at a ball,
And who being there but the king’s wife,
The fairest of them all.

2
She put her eye on the Moss Groves,
Moss Groves put his eye upon she:
‘How would you like, my little Moss Groves,
One night to tarry with me?’

3
‘To sleep one night with you, fair lady,
It would cause a wonderful sight;
For I know by the ring upon your hand
You are the king’s wife.’

4
‘If I am the king’s wife,
I mean him to beguile;
For he has gone on a long distance,
And won’t be back for a while.’

5
Up spoke his brother,
An angry man was he;
‘Another night I’ll not stop in the castle
Till my brother I’ll go see.’

6
When he come to his brother,
He was in a hell of a fright:
‘Get up, get up, brother dear!
There’s a man in bed with your wife.’

7
‘If it’s true you tell unto me,
A man I’ll make of thee;
If it’s a lie you tell unto me,
It’s slain thou shalt be.’

8
When he came to his hall,
The bells begun to ring,
And all the birds upon the bush
They begun to sing.

9
‘How do you like my covering-cloths?
And how do you like my sheets?
How do you like my lady fair,
All night in her arms to sleep?’

10
‘Your covering-cloths I like right well,
Far better than your sheets;
Far better than all your lady fair,
All night in her arms to sleep.’

11
‘Get up, get up now, little Moss Groves,
Your clothing do put on;
It shall never be said in all England
That I drew on a naked man.

12
‘There is two swords all in the castle
That cost me very dear;
You take the best, and I the worst,
And let’s decide it here.’

13
The very first blow Moss Groves he gave,
He wounded the king most sore;
The very first blow the king gave him,
Moss Groves he struck no more.

14
She lifted up his dying head
And kissed his cheek and chin:
‘I’d sooner have you now, little Moss Groves,
Than all their castles or kings.’

259 a. Insert under #C#: #d.# Printed and sold in Aldermary Church-yard, Bow Lane, London.

83. Child Maurice.

P. 266. #B.# Motherwell sent ‘Child Noryce’ to Sir Walter Scott in a letter dated 28 April, 1825 (Letters, XIV, No 94, Abbotsford). He changed several readings (as, orders to errand, in 6^4), and in three cases went back to original readings which he has altered in his manuscript. I am now convinced that the alterations made in the manuscript are not in general, if ever, corrections derived from the reciters, but Motherwell’s own improvements, and that the original readings should be adhered to.

86. Young Benjie.

P. 281. “From Jean Scott.” In the handwriting of William Laidlaw. “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 29, Abbotsford.

Excepting the first stanza, the whole of this fragment (with slight changes) is found in the ballad in Scott’s Minstrelsy. That ballad has about twice as many verses, and the other half might easily have been supplied by the editor.

1
Fair Marjorie sat i her bower-door,
Sewin her silken seam,
When by then cam her false true-love,
Gard a’ his bridles ring.

2
‘Open, open, my true-love,
Open an let me in;’
‘I dare na, I dare na, my true-love,
My brethren are within.’

3
‘Ye lee, ye lee, my ain true-love,
Sae loud I hear ye lee!
For or I cam thrae Lothian banks
They took fare-weel o me.’

4
The wind was loud, that maid was proud,
An leath, leath to be dung,
But or she wan the Lothian banks
Her fair coulour was gane.

5
He took her up in his armis,
An threw her in the lynn.

6
Up then spak her eldest brother,
Said, What is yon I see?
Sure, youn is either a drowned ladie
Or my sister Marjorie.

7
Up then spak her second brother,
Said, How will wi her ken?
Up then spak her . . . brother,
There a hinnie-mark on her chin.

8
About the midle o the night
The cock began to craw;
About the middle o the night
The corpse began to thraw.

9
‘O whae has doon ye wrang, sister?
O whae has doon ye wrang?’

10
‘Young Boonjie was the ae first man
I laid my love upon;
He was sae proud an hardie
He threw me oer the lynne.’

11
‘O shall we Boonjie head, sister?
Or shall we Boonjie hang?
Or shall we pyke out his twa grey eyes,
An punish him or he gang?’

12
‘O ye sanna Boonjie head, brother,
Ye sana Boonjie hang;
But ye maun pyke out his twa grey eyes,
An punish him or he gang.’

13
‘The ae best man about your house
Maun wait young Boonjie on.’

3^3. _thare._

4 _should probably follow 5._

6^3. either a _substituted for_ some.

7^3. her second: second _struck out_. youngest?

8^2. The corpse: corpse _struck out_.

89. Fause Foodrage.

P. 297. #Danish.# Now printed as No 298 of Danmarks gamle Folkeviser, by Axel Olrik, the continuator of that noble collection, with the title ‘Svend af Vollersløv.’ There are fifteen old versions besides Tragica 18 (which is a compounded and partly ungenuine text) and the one recently printed by Kristensen, the basis of which is the copy in Tragica. ‘Ung Villum’ is Tragica 18 with two stanzas omitted.

298, III, 515 b. ‘Liden Engel’ is No 297 of Danmarks gamle Folkeviser. There are eight old copies, and Kristensen has added five from recent tradition: the two here noted and three in Jyske Folkeminder, No 49, #A-C#, 201 ff. There is also a Swedish copy of 1693, printed in Dybeck’s Runa, 1844, p. 98, which I had not observed.

90. Jellon Grame.

P. 303 b, 513 b, III, 515 b. Robert le Diable in Luzel’s ballad, II, 24 f, when one year old, was as big as a child of five.

At the age of five, Cuchulinn sets out for his uncle’s court, where he performs prodigies of strength. In his seventh year he is received among the heroes, etc.: Zimmer, Göttingische Gelehrte Anzeigen, 1890, pp. 519–20. Merlin, when two years old, “speaks and goes,” and defends his mother before the justice: Arthour and Merlin, vv. 1069–70, ed. Turnbull for the Abbotsford Club, p. 41. Ögmundr when seven years old was as strong as a full-grown man: Örvar-Odds Saga, c. 19, Rafn, Fornaldar Sögur, II, 241. The three-nights-old son of Thórr and Járnsaxa removes the foot of Hrungnir from the neck of his father when all the gods have tried in vain. He also speaks. Skáldskaparmál, c. 17. “The Shee an Gannon was born in the morning, named at noon, and went in the evening to ask his daughter of the king of Erin:” Curtin, Myths and Folk-Lore of Ireland, p. 114. Cf. p. 223, where a champion jumps out of the cradle. (G. L. K.)

91. Fair Mary of Wallington.

P. 309. #B.# “The ballad about Lady Livingston appears to be founded on a truth; her fate is mentioned by Sir R. Gordon. Only her mother, Lady Huntley, is made a queen; which it was natural enough in a Highland poet to do.” Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe to Sir Walter Scott, Letters, XV, No 231, Abbotsford, 1825 or 26.

What Sir Robert Gordon says is: “In July 1616 yeirs, Elizabeth Gordoun, Ladie of Livingstoun (wyff to the Lord Livingstoun, now Earle of Lithgow), daughter to the Marquis of Huntly, died in chyld-bed, at Edinburgh, of a son called George, who is now Lord Livingstoun.” (Genealogy of the Earls of Sutherland, p. 335.) The characteristic particulars are wanting.

#D# is also in Kinloch MSS, V, 363, in the youthful handwriting of J. H. Burton, and is probably the original copy. The differences from the text of #D#, p. 314, except spellings, are these:

1^1, it was. 1^3, and me.

93. Lamkin.

P. 321, note *. See further in Notes and Queries, First Series, II, 519; V, 32, 112, 184, 355.

321 ff., 513.

* * * * *

X

‘Lamkin,’ “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 133, Abbotsford; in the handwriting of James Hogg.

1
Lamkin was as good a mason
As ever liftit stane;
He built to the laird o Lariston,
But payment gat he nane.

2
Oft he came, an ay he came,
To that good lord’s yett,
But neither at dor nor window
Ony entrance could get.

3
Till ae wae an weary day
Early he came,
An it fell out on that day
That good lord was frae hame.

4
He bade steek dor an window,
An prick them to the gin,
Nor leave a little wee hole,
Else Lamkin wad be in.

5
Noorice steekit dor an window,
She steekit them to the gin;
But she left a little wee hole
That Lamkin might win in.

6
‘O where’s the lady o this house?’
Said cruel Lamkin;
‘She’s up the stair sleepin,’
Said fause noorice then.

7
‘How will we get her down the stair?’
Said cruel Lamkin;
‘We’l stogg the baby i the cradle,’
Said fause noorice then.

8
He stoggit, and she rockit,
Till a’ the floor swam,
An a’ the tors o the cradle
Red wi blude ran.

9
‘O still my son, noorise,
O still him wi the kane;’
‘He winna still, madam,
Till Lariston come hame.’

10
‘O still my son, noorice,
O still him wi the knife;’
‘I canna still him, madam,
If ye sude tak my life.’

11
‘O still my soon, noorice,
O still him wi the bell;’
‘He winna still, madam,
Come see him yoursel.’

12
Wae an weary rase she up,
Slowly pat her on
Her green claethin o the silk,
An slowly came she down.

13
The first step she steppit,
It was on a stone;
The first body she saw
Was cruel Lamkin.

14
‘O pity, pity, Lamkin,
Hae pity on me!’
‘Just as meikle pity, madam,
As ye paid me o my fee.’

15
‘I’ll g’ye a peck o good red goud,
Streekit wi the wand;
An if that winna please ye,
I’ll heap it wi my hand.

16
‘An if that winna please ye,
O goud an o fee,
I’ll g’ye my eldest daughter,
Your wedded wife to be.’

17
‘Gae wash the bason, lady,
Gae wash’t an mak it clean,
To kep your mother’s heart’s-blude,
For she’s of noble kin.’

18
‘To kep my mother’s heart’s-blude
I wad be right wae;
O tak mysel, Lamkin,
An let my mother gae.’

19
‘Gae wash the bason, noorice,
Gae wash’t an mak it clean,
To kep your lady’s heart’s-blude,
For she’s o noble kin.’

20
‘To wash the bason, Lamkin,
I will be right glad,
For mony, mony bursen day
About her house I’ve had.’

21
But oh, what dule an sorrow
Was about that lord’s ha,
When he fand his lady lyin
As white as driven snaw!

22
O what dule an sorrow
Whan that good lord cam in,
An fand his young son murderd,
I the chimley lyin!

9^2. kane. kame, #B# 13^2. But _cf._ wand, #A# 16^2 #J# 10^2, #M#
3^2.

95. The Maid freed from the Gallows.

P. 346, III, 516 a. Add ‘Leggenda Napitina’ (still sung by the sailors of Pizzo); communicated to La Calabria, June 15, 1889, p. 74, by Salvatore Mele; Canto Marinaresco di Nicotera, the same, September 15, 1890. A wife is rescued by her husband.

347 b. #Swedish.# ‘Den bortsålda,’ Lagus, Nyländska Folkvisor, I, 22, No 6, _a_, _b_, _c_.

349 b, 514 a, III, 516 b, and especially 517 a. A wounded soldier calls to mother, sister, father, brother for a drink of water, and gets none; calls to his love, and she brings it: Waldau, Böhmische Granaten, II, 57, No 81.

* * * * *

I

“Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 127, Abbotsford. Sent to John Leyden, by whom and when does not appear.

1
‘Hold your tongue, Lord Judge,’ she says,
‘Yet hold it a little while;
Methinks I see my ain dear father
Coming wandering many a mile.

2
‘O have you brought me gold, father?
Or have you brought me fee?
Or are you come to save my life
From off this gallows-tree?’

3
‘I have not brought you gold, daughter,
Nor have I brought you fee,
But I am come to see you hangd,
As you this day shall be.’

[“The verses run thus untill she has seen her mother, her brother, and her sister likewise arrive, and then

Methinks I see my ain dear lover, etc.”]

4
‘I have not brought you gold, true-love,
Nor yet have I brought fee,
But I am come to save thy life
From off this gallows-tree.’

5
‘Gae hame, gae hame, father,’ she says,
‘Gae hame and saw yer seed;
And I wish not a pickle of it may grow up,
But the thistle and the weed.

6
‘Gae hame, gae hame, gae hame, mother,
Gae hame and brew yer yill;
And I wish the girds may a’ loup off,
And the Deil spill a’ yer yill.

7
‘Gae hame, gae hame, gae hame, brother,
Gae hame and lie with yer wife;
And I wish that the first news I may hear
That she has tane your life.

8
‘Gae hame, gae hame, sister,’ she says,
‘Gae hame and sew yer seam;
I wish that the needle-point may break,
And the craws pyke out yer een.’

* * * * *

J

Communicated by Dr George Birkbeck Hill, May 10, 1890, as learned forty years before from a schoolfellow, who came from the north of Somersetshire and sang it in the dialect of that region. Given from memory.

1
‘Hold up, hold up your hands so high!
Hold up your hands so high!
For I think I see my own father
Coming over yonder stile to me.

2
‘Oh father, have you got any gold for me?
Any money for to pay me free?
To keep my body from the cold clay ground,
And my neck from the gallows-tree?’

3
‘Oh no, I’ve got no gold for thee,
No money for to pay thee free,
For I’ve come to see thee hangd this day,
And hangëd thou shalt be.’

4
‘Oh the briers, prickly briers,
Come prick my heart so sore;
If ever I get from the gallows-tree,
I’ll never get there any more.’

[“The same verses are repeated, with mother, brother, and sister substituted for father. At last the sweetheart comes. The two first verses are the same, and the third and fourth as follows.”]

5
‘Oh yes, I’ve got some gold for thee,
Some money for to pay thee free;
I’ll save thy body from the cold clay ground,
And thy neck from the gallows-tree.’

6
‘Oh the briers, prickly briers,
Don’t prick my heart any more;
For now I’ve got from the gallows-tree
I’ll never get there any more.’

[“I do not know any title to this song except ‘Hold up, hold up your hands so high!’ It was by that title that we called for it.”]

Julius Krohn has lately made an important contribution to our knowledge of this ballad in an article in Virittäjä, II, 36–50, translated into German under the title ‘Das Lied vom Mädchen welches erlöst werden soll,’ Helsingfors, 1891. Professor Estlander had previously discussed the ballad in Finsk Tidskrift, X, 1881 (which I have not yet seen), and had sought to show that it was of Finnish origin, a view which Krohn disputes and refutes. There are nearly fifty Finnish versions. The curse with which #I# ends, and which is noted as occurring in Swedish #C# (compare also the Sicilian ballad), is never wanting in the Finnish, and is found also in the Esthonian copies.

96. The Gay Goshawk.

P. 356 a, III, 517 a. Add: (18) ‘La Fille dans la Tour,’ Daymard, Vieux Chants p. rec. en Quercy, p. 174 ; (19) ‘La belle dans la Tour,’ Pas de Calais, communicated by M. G. Doncieux to Revue des Traditions populaires, VI, 603 ; (20) ‘Belle Idoine,’ Questionnaire de Folklore, publié par la Société du Folklore Wallon, p. 79.

M. Doucieux has attempted a reconstruction of the text in Mélusine, V, 265 ff. He cites M. Gaston Paris as having lately pointed out a striking similitude between the first half of the French popular ballad and that of a little romance of Bele Ydoine composed in the twelfth century by Audefrois le Bastars (Bartsch, Altfranzösische Romanzen und Pastourellen, p. 59, No 57). This resemblance has, I suppose, occasioned the title of ‘Belle Idoine’ to be given editorially to No 20 above, for the name does not occur in the ballad.

356 b, III, 517 a. Add: ‘Au Jardin des Olives,’ Guillon, p. 83, ‘Dessous le Rosier blanc,’ Daymard, p. 171 (Les trois Capitaines). A girl feigns death to avoid becoming a king’s mistress, ‘Hertig Henrik och Konungen,’ Lagus, Nyländska Folkvisor, I, 117, No 37.

363. #E.# The following is the MS. copy, “of some antiquity,” from which #E# was in part constructed. (Whether it be the original or a transcript cannot be determined, but Mr Macmath informs me that the paper on which it is written “seems about the oldest sheet in the volume.”) The text was freely handled. ‘Lord William’ does not occur in it, but the name is found in another version which follows this.

“Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 146 a, Abbotsford.

1
‘O waly, waly, my gay goss-hawk,
Gin your feathering be sheen!’
‘O waly, waly, my master dear,
Gin ye look pale and lean!

2
‘Whether is it for the gold sae rid,
Or is it for the silver clear?
Or is it for the lass in southen land,
That she cannot win here.’

3
‘It is not for the gold sae rid,
Nor is it for the silver clear,
But it is for the lass in southen land,
That she cannot win her[e].’

4
‘Sit down, sit down, my master dear,
Write a love-letter hastily,
And put it in under my feathern gray,
And I’ll away to southen land as fast as I can flee.

5
‘But how shall I your true-love ken?
Or how shall I her know?
I bear the tongue never wi her spake,
The eye that never her saw.’

6
‘The red that is in my love’s cheek
Is like blood spilt amang the snaw;
The white that is on her breast-bone
Is like the down on the white sea-maw.

7
‘There’s one that stands at my love’s gate
And opens the silver pin,
And there ye may safely set ye on
And sing a lovely song.

8
‘First ye may sing it loud, loud, loud,
And then ye may sing it clear,
And ay the oerword of the tune
Is, Your love cannot win here.’

9
He has written a love-letter,
Put it under his feathern gray,
And he’s awa to southen land,
As fast as ever he may.

10
When he came to the lady’s gate,
There he lighted down,
And there he sat him on the pin
And sang a lovely song.

11
First he sang it loud, loud, loud,
And then he sang it clear,
And ay the oerword of the tune
Was, Your love cannot win here.

12
‘Hold your tongues, my merry maids all,
And hold them a little while;
I hear some word from my true-love,
That lives in Scotland’s isle.’

13
Up she rose, to the door she goes,
To hear what the bird woud say,
And he’s let the love-letter fall
From under his feathern gray.

14
When she looked the letter on,
The tear blinded her eye,
And when she read it oer and oer
A loud laughter took she.

15
‘Go hame, go hame, my bonny bird,
And to your master tell,
If I be nae wi him at Martinmass,
I shall be wi him at Yule.’

16
The lady’s to her chamber gane,
And a sick woman grew she;
The lady’s taen a sudden brash,
And nathing she’ll do but die.

17
‘An asking, an asking, my father dear,
An asking grant to me!
If that I die in southen land,
In Scotland bury me.’

18
‘Ask on, ask on, my daughter dear,
That asking is granted thee;
If that you die in southen land,
In Scotland I’ll bury thee.’

19
‘Gar call to me my seven bretheren,
To hew to me my bier,
The one half of the beaten gold,
The other of the silver clear.

20
‘Go call to me my seven sisters,
To sew to me my caul;
Every needle-steik that they put in
Put by a silver bell.’

21
The first Scots kirk that they came to,
They heard the mavis sing;
The next Scots kirk that they came to,
They heard the dead-bell ring.

22
The next Scots kirk that they came to,
They were playing at the foot-ball,
And her true-love was them among,
The chieftian amangst them all.

23
‘Set down, set down these corps,’ said he,
‘Let me look them upon;’
As soon as he lookd the lady on,
The blood sprang in her chin.

24
‘One bite of your bread, my love,
And one glass of your wine!
For I have fasted these five long days,
All for your sake and mine.

25
‘Go hame, go hame, my seven brothers,
Go hame and blaw your horn,
And ye may tell thro southen land
How I playd you the scorn.’

26
‘Woe to you, my sister dear,
And ane ill death may you die!
For we left father and mother at hame
Breaking their heart for thee.’

The Ettrick Shepherd sent Scott the following stanzas to be inserted in the first edition at places indicated. Most of them are either absolutely base metal or very much worn by circulation. The clever contrivance for breathing (found also in #G# 39, #H# 19) and the bribing of the surgeon provoke scorn and resentment.

‘Gay Gos Hawk,’ “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 143, No 133 a, Abbotsford; in the handwriting of James Hogg.

After 12 of ed. 1802 (E 13):

He happit off the flowry birk,
Sat down on the yett-pin,
And sang sae sweet the notes o love
Till a’ was coush within.

After 15 (E 16):
‘O ye maun send your love a kiss,
For he has sent you three;
O ye maun send your love a kiss,
And ye maun send it wi me.’

‘He has the rings off my fingers,
The garland off my hair;
He has the heart out o my bouk,
What can I send him mair?’

After 22:
‘The third Scotts kirk that ye gang to
Ye’s gar them blaw the horn,
That a’ the lords o fair Scotland
May hear afore the morn.’

After 23:
She wyld a wright to bore her chest,
For caller air she’d need;
She brib’d her surgeon wi the goud
To say that she was dead.

After 25:
‘What ails, what ails my daughter dear
Her colour bides sae fine?’
The surgeon-lad reply’d again,
She’s nouther pin’d nor lien.

After 30:
The third Scotts kirk that they cam to,
Sae loud they blew the horn,
An a’ the lads on yon water
Was warnd afore the morn.

After 31:
‘Set down, set down the bier,’ he said,
‘These comely corps I’ll see;’
‘Away, away,’ her brothers said,
‘For nae sick thing shall be.

‘Her een are sunk, her lips are cold,
Her rosy colour gane;
‘T is nine lang nights an nine lang days
Sin she deceasd at hame.’

‘Wer’t nine times nine an nine times nine,
My true-love’s face I’ll see;
Set down the bier, or here I swear
My prisners you shall be.’

He drew the nails frae the coffin,
An liftit up the cone,
An for a’ sae lang as she’d been dead
She smil’d her love upon.

After 35:
‘And tell my father he sent me
To rot in Scotland’s clay;
But he sent me to my Willie,
To be his lady gay.’

* * * * *

H

“Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 28 b, Abbotsford; in the handwriting of William Laidlaw.

1
Lord William was walkin i the garden green,
Viewin the roses red,
An there he spyed his bonnie spier-hawk,
Was fleein aboon his head.

2
‘O could ye speak, my bonnie spier-hawk,
As ye hae wings to flee,
Then ye wad carry a luve-letter
Atween my love an me.’

3
‘But how can I your true-love ken?
Or how can I her know?
Or how can I your true-love ken,
The face I never saw?’

4
‘Ye may esily my love ken
Amang them ye never saw;
The red that’s on o my love’s cheek
Is like bluid drapt on the snaw.’

* * * * * *

5
‘O what will be my meat, master?
An what’ll be my fee?
An what will be the love-tokens
That ye will send wi me?’

6
‘Ye may tell my love I’ll send her a kiss,
A kiss, aye, will I three;
If ever she come [to] fair Scotland,
My wedded wife she’s be.

7
‘Ye may tell my love I’ll send her a kiss,
A kiss, aye, will I twae;
An ever she come to fair Scotland,
I the red gold she sall gae.’

* * * * * *

8
The hawk flew high, an she flew leugh,
An south aneath the sun,
Untill it cam, etc.

9
‘Sit still, sit still, my six sisters,
An sew your silken seam,
Till I gae to my bower-window
An hear yon Scottish bird sing.’

10
Than she flew high, an she flew leugh,
An’ far aboon the wa;
She drapit to that ladie’s side,
An loot the letter fa.

11
‘What news, what news, my bonnie burd?
An what word carry ye?
An what are a’ the love-tokens
My love has sent to me?’

12
‘O ye may send your love a kiss,
For he has sent ye three;
Ye hae the heart within his buik,
What mair can he send thee?’

13
‘O I will send my love a kiss,
A kiss, I, will I three;
If I can win to fair Scotland,
His wedded wife I’ll be.

14
‘O I will send my love a kiss,
An the caim out o my hair;
He has the heart that’s in my buik,
What can I send him mair?

15
‘An gae yer ways, my bonnie burd,
An tell my love frae me,
If [I] be na there gin Martinmas,
Gin Yool I there will be.’

* * * * * *

16
’Twas up an spak her ill step-minnie,
An ill deed may she die!
‘Yer daughter Janet’s taen her bed,
An she’ll do nought but die.’

17
‘An askin, an askin, dear father,
An askin I crave o thee;
If I should die just at this time,
In Scotland burry me.’

18
‘There’s room enough in wide England
To burry thee an me;
But sould ye die, my dear daughter,
I Scotland I’ll burry thee.’

19
She’s warnd the wrights in lilly Londeen,
She’s warnd them ane an a’,
To mak a kist wi three windows,
The cauler air to blaw.

20
‘O will ye gae, my six sisters,
An sew to me a sheet,
The tae half o the silk sae fine,
The tother o cambric white.’

21
Then they hae askit the surgeon at, etc.

22
Then said her cruel step-minnie,
Take ye the boilin lead
An some o ‘t drap on her bosom;
We’ll see gif she be dead.

23
Then boilin lead than they hae taen
An drappit on her breast;
‘Alas! alas!’ than her father he cried,
‘For she’s dead without the priest!’

24
She neither chatterd in her teeth
Nor shivert wi her chin;
‘Alas! alas!’ her father cried,
‘For there nae life within!’

* * * * * *

25
‘It’s nine lang days, an nine lang nights,
She’s wantit meat for me;
But for nine days, nine langer nights,
Her face ye salna see.’

26
He’s taen the coffin wi his fit,
Gard it in flinders flie, etc.

27
‘Fetch me,’ she said, ‘a cake o yer bread
An a wi drap o your wine,
For luve o you an for your sake
I’ve fastit lang nights nine.’

28
’Twas up then spak an eldrin knight,
A grey-haird knight was he;
‘Now ye hae left yer auld father,
For you he’s like to die.

29
‘An ye hae left yer sax sisters
Lamentin a’ for you;
I wiss that this, my dear ladie,
Ye near may hae to rue.’

30
‘Commend me to my auld father,
If eer ye come him niest;
But nought say to my ill step-minnie.
Gard burn me on the breist.

31
‘Commend me to my six sisters,
If ye gang bak again;
But nought say to my ill step-minnie,
Gard burn me on the chin.

32
‘Commend me to my brethren bald,
An ever ye them see;
If ever they come to fair Scotland
They’s fare nae war than me.

33
‘For I cam na to fair Scotland
To lie amang the dead,
But I cam down to fair Scotland
To wear goud on my head.

34
‘Nor did I come to fair Scotland
To rot amang the clay,
But I cam to fair Scotland
To wear goud ilka day.’

10^2. _Var._ aboon them a’.

367 b. The second edition of the Minstrelsy, 1803, II, 6, inserted 13, from Hogg’s communication, substituted 22, 23, 24 of Laidlaw’s (#H#) for 27, 28, introduced 30 of Laidlaw after 36 (all with changes), and made the consequently necessary alteration in 37.

99. Johnie Scot.

P. 378 b. Another copy of the Breton ballad, ‘Lézobré,’ in Quellien, Chansons et Danses des Bretons, 1889, p. 65.

379 ff.

* * * * *

Q

“Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 4 a, Abbotsford; in the handwriting of William Laidlaw.

1
Young Johnie’s up to England gane
Three quarters of a year;
Young Johnie’s up to England gane,
The king’s banner for to bear.

2
But he had not in England been
The one half of the time
Till the fairest laidy in all the court
Was going with child to him.

3
Word unto the kitchen’s gane,
And word’s to the hall,
And word unto the court has gane,
Among the nobles all.

4
And word unto the chamber’s gane,
The place where the king sat,
That his only daughter is with child
To Johnie, the little Scott.

5
‘If this be true,’ then sais the king,
‘As I true well it be,
I’ll put hir in a strong castle,
And hungre hir till she dee.’

6
Hir breast-plate was made of iron,
In place of the beaten gold,
A belt of steel about hir waist,
And O but she was cold!

7
‘O where will I get a pritty little boy,
That will win hoes and shoon,
That will go doun to yonder lee
And tell my Johnie to come?’

8
‘Here am I, a pritty little boy,
That will win hoes and shoon,
And I’ll go doun to yonder lee
And tell young Johnie to come.’

9
She has wrote a brod letter,
And seald it tenderly,
And she has sent it to Johnie the Scott,
That lay on yonder lee.

10
When Johnie first the letter got,
A blith, blith man was he;
But or he read the half of it
The salt teer blind Johnie’s ee.

11
‘I will go to fair England,’ says he,
‘What ever may betide,
For to releave that gay laidy
Who last lay by my side.’

12
Up then spoke his old mother,
A sorrifull woman was she;
‘If you go to England, John,
I’ll never see you mare.’

13
Up then spoke Johnie’s father,
His head was growing gray;
‘If you go to England, John,
O fair you well for me!’

14
Up then spoke Johnie’s uncle,
Our Scottish king was he;
‘Five hundred of my merry men
Shall bear you company.’

15
When Johnie was mounted on his steed
He looked wondorous bold,
The hair that oer his shouldiers hang
Like threeds of yellow gold.

16
‘Now come along with me, my men,
O come along with me,
We’l blow thier castles in the air,
And set free my gay laidy.’

17
The first gay town that they came to,
Made mass for to be sung;
The nixt gay town that they came to,
Made bells for to be rung.

18
But when they came to London town,
They made the drums beat round,
Who made the king and all his court
To wonder at the sound.

19
‘Is this the Duke of Mulberry,
Or James the Scottish king?
Or is it a young gentleman
To England new come home?’

20
‘It is not the Duke of Mulberry,
Nor James the Scottish [king];
But it is a young gentleman,
MacNaughten is his name.’

21
‘If MacNaughten be your name,’ says the king,
‘As I true well it be,
Before the morn at eight o clock
Dead hanged you shall be.’

22
Up bespoke one of Johnie’s little boys,
And a well-spoke boy was he;
‘Before we see our master hangd,
We’l all fight till we dee.’

23
‘Well spoke, well spoke, my little boy,
That is well spoke of thee;
But I have a champian in my bower
That will fight you three by three.’

24
Up then spoke Johnie himself,
And he spoke manfully;
‘If it please your Majesty,
May I this champian see?’

25
The king and all his nobles then
Rode down unto the plain,
The queen and all [her] gay marries,
To see young Johnie slain.

26
When the champian came out of the bower,
He looked at Johnie with disdain;
But upon the tope of Johnie’s brodsword
This champian soon was slain.

27
He fought on, and Johnie fought on,
With swords of tempered steel,
And ay the blood like dropes of rain
Came trinkling down thier hiel.

28
The very nixt stroke that Johnie gave,
He brought him till his knee;
The nixt stroke that Johnie gave,
He clove his head in twa.

29
He swapt his sword on every side,
And turned him on the plain:
‘Have you any more of your English dogs
That wants for to be slain?’

30
‘A clerk, a clerk!’ the king he crys,
‘I’ll seal her taucher free;’
‘A priest, a priest!’ the queen she crys,
‘For weded they shall be.’

31
‘I’ll have none of your [gold],’ say[s] he,
‘Nor any of your white money;
But I will have my ain true-love;
This day she has cost me dear.’

27^4. hill.

29^4. two.

* * * * *

R

“Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 37, Abbotsford, MS. of Thomas Wilkie, p. 11; from Miss Nancy Brockie, Bemerside. Another copy, “Scotch Ballads,” etc., No 139, in the handwriting of T. Wilkie, and somewhat retouched by him.

1
Lord Jonnie’s up to England gone
Three quarters of an year;
Lord Jonnie’s up to England gone,
The king’s banner to bear.

2
He had not been in fair England,
Three quarters he was not,
Till the king’s eldest daughter
Goes with child to Lord Jonnie Scott.

3
Word is to the kitchen gone,
And word’s gone to the hall,
And word’s gone to the high, high room,
Among the nobles all.

4
Word’s gone to the king himsel,
In the chamber where he sat,
That his eldest daughter goes with child
To Lord Jonnie Scott.

5
‘If that be true,’ the king replied,
‘As I suppose it be,
I’ll put her in a prison strong,
And starve her till she die.’

6
‘O where will I get a little boy,
That has baith hose and shoon,
That will run into fair Scotland,
And tell my love to come?’

7
‘O here is a shirt, little boy,
Her own hand sewed the sleeve;
Tell her to come to good greenwood,
Not ask her father’s leave.’

8
‘What news, what news, my little boy?
What news have ye brought to me?’
‘No news, no news, my master dear,
But what I will tell thee.

9
‘O here is a shirt, madam,
Your awn hand sewed the sleeve;
You must gang to good greenwood,
Not ask your parents’ leave.’

10
‘My doors they are all shut, little boy,
My windows round about;
My feet is in the fetters strong,
And I cannot get out.

11
‘My garters are of the black, black iron,
And O but they are cold!
My breast-plate’s o the strong, strong steel,
Instead of beaten gold.

12
‘But tell him for to bide away,
And not come near to me,
For there’s a champion in my father’s ha
Will fight him till he dee.’

13
‘What news, what news, my little boy?
What news have ye to me?’
‘No news, no news, my master dear,
But what I will tell thee.

14
‘Her doors they are all shut, kind sir,
Her windows round about;
Her feet are in the fetters strong,
And she cannot get out.

15
‘Her garters are of the black, black iron,
And O but they are cold!
Her breast-plate’s of the strong, strong steel,
Instead of beaten gold.

16
‘She bids you for to bide away,
And not go near to see,
For there’s a champion in her father’s house
Will fight you till you die.’

17
Then up and spoke Lord Jonnie’s mother,
But she spoke out of time;
‘O if you go to fair England
I fear you will be slain.’

18
But up and spoke a little boy,
Just at Lord Jonnie’s knee,
‘Before you lose your ain true-love,
We’ll a’ fight till we die.’

19
The first church-town that they came to,
They made the bells be rung;
The next church-town that they came to,
The[y] gard the mass be sung.

20
The next church-town that they came to,
They made the drums go through;
The king and all his nobles stood
Amazing for to view.

21
‘Is this any English gentleman,
Or James our Scottish king?
Or is it a Scottish gentleman,
To England new come in?’

22
‘No, ‘t is no English gentleman,
Nor James the Scottish king;
But it is a Scottish gentleman,
Lord Jonnie is my name.’

23
‘If Lord Jonnie be your name,
As I suppose it be,
I have a champion in my hall
Will fight you till you die.’

24
‘O go fetch out that gurrley fellow,
Go fetch him out to me;
Before I lose my ain true-love,
We’ll all fight till we die.’

25
Then out and came that gurrly fellow,
A gurrly fellow was he,
With twa lang sclasps between his eyes,
His shoulders there were three.

26
The king and all his nobles stood
To see the battle gained;
The queen and all her maries stood
To see Lord Jonnie slain.

27
The first stroke that Lord Jonnie gave,
He wounded very sore;
The next stroke that Lord Jonnie gave,
The champion could fight no more.

28
He’s taen a whistle out from his side,
He’s blawn a blast loud and shill:
‘Is there any more of your English dogs
To come here and be killed?’

29
‘A clerk, a clerk!’ the king did say,
‘To cry her toucher free;’
‘A priest, a priest!’ Lord Jonnie [did] cry
‘To wed my love and me.

30
‘’Twas for none of your monnie I fought,
Nor for none of your world’s gear;
But it was for my own true-love;
I think I’ve bought her dear.’

“This song (L. Jonnie) I took down from the same girl who sung Hughie Graeme.”

5^2. supose.

8^3. no news _thrice:_ master _wrongly, in anticipation of 13^3._

_In No 139._

4^{3,4}. That the king’s eldest daughter Goes with child to.

7^1. There is a shift, little boy.

7^4. parents leave.

8^2. ye to.

16^1. But she.

16^3. father’s hall.

19^2. They gard.

19^4. They made.

22^2. James our.

23^1. name, kind sir.

25^1. out soon.

28^2. blown it baith loud.

29^1. did cry.

29^2. tocher fee.

29^3. Jonnie cri’s.

30^1. our.

30^2. Nor none.

* * * * *

S

“Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 140, Abbotsford; in the handwriting of James Hogg, who remarks at the end: “The repeater of the above song called the hero once or twice Johny Scott, which I ommitted in the MS., seeing it contradicted in the 22 verse. I thought it best to apprise you of this, in case you might find any tract of its being founded on fact, because, if it is not, it hath little else to reccomend it.”

1
O Johny’s up thro England gane
Three quarters of a year,
An Johny’s up thro England gane,
The king’s banner to bear.

2
He had not been in London town
But a very little while
Till the fairest lady in the court
By Johny gaes wi child.

3
But word is to the kitchin gane,
An word’s gane to the ha,
An word’s gane to yon high, high court,
Amang our nobles a’.

4
An when the king got wit o that
An angry man was he:
‘On the highest tree in a’ the wood
High hangit shall he be!

5
‘An for the lady, if it’s true,
As I do fear it be,
I’ll put her in yon castle strong,
An starve her till she die.’

6
But Johny had a clever boy,
A clever boy was he,
O Johny had a clever boy,
His name was Gregory.

7
‘O run, my boy, to yon castle,
All windows round about,
An there you’l see a fair lady,
At a window looking out.

8
‘Ye maun bid her take this silken sark—
Her ain hand sewd the gare—
An bid her come to the green wood,
For Johny waits her there.’

9
Away he ran to yon castle,
All windows round about,
Where he espy’d a lady fair,
At a window looking out.

10
‘O madam, there’s a silken sark—
Your ain hand sewd the gare—
An haste ye to the good green wood,
For Johny waits you there.’

11
‘O I’m confin’d in this castle,
Though lighted round about;
My feet are bound with fetters strong,
That I cannot win out.

12
‘My gartens are of stubborn ern,
Alas! baith stiff and cold;
My breastplate of the sturdy steel,
Instead of beaten gold.

13
‘Instead of silken stays, my boy,
With steel I’m lac’d about;
My feet are bound with fetters strong,
And how can I get out?

14
‘But tell him he must stay at home,
Nor venture here for me;
Else an Italian in our court
Must fight him till he die.’

15
When Johny he got wit o that,
An angry man was he:
‘But I will gae wi a’ my men
My dearest dear to see.’

16
But up then spake a noble lord,
A noble lord was he;
‘The best of a’ my merry men
Shall bear you company.’

17
But up then spake his auld mother,
I wat wi meikle pain;
‘If ye will gae to London, son,
Ye’l neer come back again.’

18
But Johny turnd him round about,
I wat wi meikle pride:
‘But I will gae to London town,
Whatever may betide.’

19
When they were a’ on horseback set,
How comely to behold!
For a’ the hairs o Johny’s head
Did shine like threads o gold.

20
The first ae town that they gaed through,
They gart the bells be rung,
But the neist town that they gaed through
They gart the mass be sung.