EARL RICHARD (B).

11, 12, Percy's.

Motherwell'sMinstrelsy, p. 377. From recitation.

Earl Richard once on a day,And all his valiant men so wight,He did him down to Barnisdale,Where all the land is fair and light.He was aware of a damosel,5I 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;10For 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 miss15That ye would do to me.""The miss is not so great, ladye,Soon mended it might be."I have four-and-twenty mills in Scotland,Stands on the water Tay;20You'll have them, and as much flourAs 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 miss25That 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;30You'll have them, and as much hained grassAs 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 miss35That ye would do to me.""The miss is not so great, ladye,Soon mended it might be."I have four-and-twenty milk-white steeds,All foaled in one year;40You'll have them, and as much red goldAs all their backs can bear."She turned her right and round about,And she swore by the mold,"I would not be your love," said she,45"For that church full of gold."He turned him right and round about,And he swore by the mass,Says,—"Lady, ye my love shall be,And gold ye shall have less."50She turned her right and round about,And she swore by the moon,"I would not be your love," says she,"For all the gold in Rome."He turned him right and round about,55And he swore by the moon,Says,—"Lady, ye my love shall be,And gold ye shall have none."He caught her by the milk-white hand,And by the grass-green sleeve;60And there has taken his will of her,Wholly without her leave.The lady frowned and sadly blushed,And oh! but she thought shame:Says,—"If you are a knight at all,65You surely will tell me your name.""In some places they call me Jack,In other some they call me John;But when into the Queen's Court,Oh then Lithcock it is my name."70"Lithcock! Lithcock!" the lady said,And oft she spelt it over again;"Lithcock! it's Latin," the lady said,"Richard's the English of that name."The Knight he rode, the lady ran,75A live long summer's day;Till they came to the wan waterThat all men do call Tay.He set his horse head to the water,Just thro' it for to ride;80And the lady was as ready as himThe waters for to wade.For he had never been as kind-heartedAs to bid the lady ride;And she had never been so low-hearted85As for to bid him bide.But deep into the wan waterThere stands a great big stone;He turned his wight horse head about,Said, "Lady fair, will ye loup on?"90She's taken the wand was in her hand,And struck it on the foam,And before he got the middle stream,The lady was on dry land."By help of God and our Lady,95My help lyes not in your hand."I learned it from my mother dear,—Few is there that has learned better—When I came to a deep water,I can swim thro' like ony otter.100"I learned it from my mother dear,—I find I learned it for my weel;When I came to a deep water,I can swim thro' like ony eel.""Turn back, turn back, you lady fair,105You know not what I see;There is a lady in that castle,That will burn you and me.""Betide me weal, betide me wae,That lady will I see."110She took a ring from her finger,And gave't the porter for his fee:Says, "Tak you that, my good porter,And bid the Queen speak to me."And when she came before the Queen,115There she fell low down on her knee:Says, "There is a knight into your court,This day has robbed me.""O has he robbed you of your gold,Or has he robbed you of your fee?"120"He has not robbed me of my gold,He has not robbed me of my fee;He has robbed me of my maidenhead,The fairest flower of my bodie.""There is no knight in all my court,125That thus has robbed thee,But you'll have the truth of his right hand,Or else for your sake he'll die,Tho' it were Earl Richard, my own brother;And oh forbid that it be!"130Then, sighing, said the lady fair,"I wot the samen man is he."The Queen called on her merry men,Even fifty men and three;Earl Richard used to be the first man,135But now the hindmost was he.He's taken out one hundred pounds,And told it in his glove:Says, "Tak you that, my lady fair,And seek another love."140"Oh no, oh no," the lady cried,"That's what shall never be;I'll have the truth of your right hand,The Queen it gave to me.""I wish I had drunk of your water, sister,145When I did drink your wine;That for a carle's fair daughter,It does gar me dree all this pine.""May be I am a carle's daughter,And may be never nane;150When ye met me in the green wood,Why did you not let me alane?""Will you wear the short clothes,Or will you wear the side;Or will you walk to your wedding,155Or will you till it ride?""I will not wear the short clothes,But I will wear the side;I will not walk to my wedding,But I to it will ride."160When he was set upon the horse,The lady him behind,Then cauld and eerie were the wordsThe twa had them between.She said, "Good e'en, ye nettles tall,165Just there where ye grow at the dike;If the auld carline my mother was here,Sae weel's she would your pates pike."How she would stap you in her poke,I wot at that she wadna fail;170And boil ye in her auld brass pan,And of ye mak right gude kail."And she would meal you with milleringThat she gathers at the mill,And mak you thick as any daigh;175And when the pan was brimful,"Would mess you up in scuttle dishes,Syne bid us sup till we were fou;Lay down her head upon a poke,Then sleep and snore like any sow."180"Away! away! you bad woman,For all your vile words grieveth me;When ye heed so little for yourself,I'm sure ye'll heed far less for me."I wish I had drunk your water, sister,185When that I did drink of your wine;Since for a carle's fair daughter,It aye gars me dree all this pine.""May be I am a carle's daughter,And may be never nane;190When ye met me in the good green wood,Why did you not let me alane?"Gude e'en, gude e'en, ye heather berries,As ye're growing on yon hill;If the auld carle and his bags were here,195I wot he would get meat his fill."Late, late at night I knit our pokes,With even four-and-twenty knots;And in the morn at breakfast time,I'll carry the keys of an earl's locks.200"Late, late at night I knit our pokes,With even four-and-twenty strings;And if you look to my white fingers,They have as many gay gold rings.""Away! away! ye ill woman,205And sore your vile words grieveth me;When you heed so little for yourself,I'm sure ye'll heed far less for me."But if you are a carle's daughter,As I take you to be,210How did you get the gay clothing,In green wood ye had on thee?""My mother she's a poor woman,She nursed earl's children three;And I got them from a foster sister,215For to beguile such sparks as thee.""But if you be a carle's daughter,As I believe you be,How did ye learn the good Latin,In green wood ye spoke to me?"220"My mother she's a mean woman,She nursed earl's children three;I learned it from their chapelain,To beguile such sparks as ye."When mass was sung, and bells were rung,225And all men boune for bed,Then Earl Richard and this ladyeIn ane bed they were laid.He turned his face to the stock,And she hers to the stane;230And cauld and dreary was the luveThat was thir twa between.Great was the mirth in the kitchen,Likewise intill the ha';But in his bed lay Earl Richard,235Wiping the tears awa'.He wept till he fell fast asleep,Then slept till licht was come;Then he did hear the gentlemenThat talked in the room:240Said,—"Saw ye ever a fitter match,Betwixt the ane and ither;The King o' Scotland's fair dochter,And the Queen of England's brither?""And is she the King o' Scotland's fair dochter?245This 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!"250

Earl Richard once on a day,And all his valiant men so wight,He did him down to Barnisdale,Where all the land is fair and light.

He was aware of a damosel,5I 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;10For 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 miss15That ye would do to me.""The miss is not so great, ladye,Soon mended it might be.

"I have four-and-twenty mills in Scotland,Stands on the water Tay;20You'll have them, and as much flourAs 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 miss25That 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;30You'll have them, and as much hained grassAs 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 miss35That ye would do to me.""The miss is not so great, ladye,Soon mended it might be.

"I have four-and-twenty milk-white steeds,All foaled in one year;40You'll have them, and as much red goldAs all their backs can bear."

She turned her right and round about,And she swore by the mold,"I would not be your love," said she,45"For that church full of gold."

He turned him right and round about,And he swore by the mass,Says,—"Lady, ye my love shall be,And gold ye shall have less."50

She turned her right and round about,And she swore by the moon,"I would not be your love," says she,"For all the gold in Rome."

He turned him right and round about,55And he swore by the moon,Says,—"Lady, ye my love shall be,And gold ye shall have none."

He caught her by the milk-white hand,And by the grass-green sleeve;60And there has taken his will of her,Wholly without her leave.

The lady frowned and sadly blushed,And oh! but she thought shame:Says,—"If you are a knight at all,65You surely will tell me your name."

"In some places they call me Jack,In other some they call me John;But when into the Queen's Court,Oh then Lithcock it is my name."70

"Lithcock! Lithcock!" the lady said,And oft she spelt it over again;"Lithcock! it's Latin," the lady said,"Richard's the English of that name."

The Knight he rode, the lady ran,75A live long summer's day;Till they came to the wan waterThat all men do call Tay.

He set his horse head to the water,Just thro' it for to ride;80And the lady was as ready as himThe waters for to wade.

For he had never been as kind-heartedAs to bid the lady ride;And she had never been so low-hearted85As for to bid him bide.

But deep into the wan waterThere stands a great big stone;He turned his wight horse head about,Said, "Lady fair, will ye loup on?"90

She's taken the wand was in her hand,And struck it on the foam,And before he got the middle stream,The lady was on dry land."By help of God and our Lady,95My help lyes not in your hand.

"I learned it from my mother dear,—Few is there that has learned better—When I came to a deep water,I can swim thro' like ony otter.100

"I learned it from my mother dear,—I find I learned it for my weel;When I came to a deep water,I can swim thro' like ony eel."

"Turn back, turn back, you lady fair,105You know not what I see;There is a lady in that castle,That will burn you and me.""Betide me weal, betide me wae,That lady will I see."110

She took a ring from her finger,And gave't the porter for his fee:Says, "Tak you that, my good porter,And bid the Queen speak to me."

And when she came before the Queen,115There she fell low down on her knee:Says, "There is a knight into your court,This day has robbed me."

"O has he robbed you of your gold,Or has he robbed you of your fee?"120"He has not robbed me of my gold,He has not robbed me of my fee;He has robbed me of my maidenhead,The fairest flower of my bodie."

"There is no knight in all my court,125That thus has robbed thee,But you'll have the truth of his right hand,Or else for your sake he'll die,Tho' it were Earl Richard, my own brother;And oh forbid that it be!"130Then, sighing, said the lady fair,"I wot the samen man is he."

The Queen called on her merry men,Even fifty men and three;Earl Richard used to be the first man,135But now the hindmost was he.

He's taken out one hundred pounds,And told it in his glove:Says, "Tak you that, my lady fair,And seek another love."140

"Oh no, oh no," the lady cried,"That's what shall never be;I'll have the truth of your right hand,The Queen it gave to me."

"I wish I had drunk of your water, sister,145When I did drink your wine;That for a carle's fair daughter,It does gar me dree all this pine."

"May be I am a carle's daughter,And may be never nane;150When ye met me in the green wood,Why did you not let me alane?"

"Will you wear the short clothes,Or will you wear the side;Or will you walk to your wedding,155Or will you till it ride?"

"I will not wear the short clothes,But I will wear the side;I will not walk to my wedding,But I to it will ride."160

When he was set upon the horse,The lady him behind,Then cauld and eerie were the wordsThe twa had them between.

She said, "Good e'en, ye nettles tall,165Just there where ye grow at the dike;If the auld carline my mother was here,Sae weel's she would your pates pike.

"How she would stap you in her poke,I wot at that she wadna fail;170And boil ye in her auld brass pan,And of ye mak right gude kail.

"And she would meal you with milleringThat she gathers at the mill,And mak you thick as any daigh;175And when the pan was brimful,

"Would mess you up in scuttle dishes,Syne bid us sup till we were fou;Lay down her head upon a poke,Then sleep and snore like any sow."180

"Away! away! you bad woman,For all your vile words grieveth me;When ye heed so little for yourself,I'm sure ye'll heed far less for me.

"I wish I had drunk your water, sister,185When that I did drink of your wine;Since for a carle's fair daughter,It aye gars me dree all this pine."

"May be I am a carle's daughter,And may be never nane;190When ye met me in the good green wood,Why did you not let me alane?

"Gude e'en, gude e'en, ye heather berries,As ye're growing on yon hill;If the auld carle and his bags were here,195I wot he would get meat his fill.

"Late, late at night I knit our pokes,With even four-and-twenty knots;And in the morn at breakfast time,I'll carry the keys of an earl's locks.200

"Late, late at night I knit our pokes,With even four-and-twenty strings;And if you look to my white fingers,They have as many gay gold rings."

"Away! away! ye ill woman,205And sore your vile words grieveth me;When you heed so little for yourself,I'm sure ye'll heed far less for me.

"But if you are a carle's daughter,As I take you to be,210How did you get the gay clothing,In green wood ye had on thee?"

"My mother she's a poor woman,She nursed earl's children three;And I got them from a foster sister,215For to beguile such sparks as thee."

"But if you be a carle's daughter,As I believe you be,How did ye learn the good Latin,In green wood ye spoke to me?"220

"My mother she's a mean woman,She nursed earl's children three;I learned it from their chapelain,To beguile such sparks as ye."

When mass was sung, and bells were rung,225And all men boune for bed,Then Earl Richard and this ladyeIn ane bed they were laid.

He turned his face to the stock,And she hers to the stane;230And cauld and dreary was the luveThat was thir twa between.

Great was the mirth in the kitchen,Likewise intill the ha';But in his bed lay Earl Richard,235Wiping the tears awa'.

He wept till he fell fast asleep,Then slept till licht was come;Then he did hear the gentlemenThat talked in the room:240

Said,—"Saw ye ever a fitter match,Betwixt the ane and ither;The King o' Scotland's fair dochter,And the Queen of England's brither?"

"And is she the King o' Scotland's fair dochter?245This 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!"250

75et seq. This passage has something in common withChild WatersandBurd Ellen.

FromMinstrelsy of the Scottish Border, iii. 151.

"This Ballad is published, partly from one under this title, in Mrs. Brown's collection, and partly from a MS. of some antiquity,penesEdit. The stanzas appearing to possess most merit have been selected from each copy."—Scott.

Annexed isanother version from Motherwell's collection. A third, longer than either, is furnished by Buchan,Ballads of the North of Scotland, ii. 245,The Scottish Squire.

"O waly, waly, my gay goss-hawk,Gin your feathering be sheen!""And waly, waly, my master dear,Gin ye look pale and lean!"O have ye tint, at tournament,5Your sword, or yet your spear?Or mourn ye for the southern lass,Whom ye may not win near?""I have not tint, at tournament,My sword nor yet my spear;10But sair I mourn for my true love,Wi' mony a bitter tear."But weel's me on ye, my gay goss-hawk,Ye can baith speak and flee;Ye sall carry a letter to my love,15Bring an answer back to me.""But how sall 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."20"O weel sall 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 cheek,25Is 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 bouer-doorThere grows a flowering birk;30And ye maun sit and sing thereonAs she gangs to the kirk."And four-and-twenty fair ladyesWill to the mass repair;But weel may ye my ladye ken,35The fairest ladye there."Lord William has written a love-letter,Put it under his pinion gray;And he is awa to southern landAs fast as wings can gae.40And even at the ladye's bourThere grew a flowering birk;And he sat down and sung thereonAs she gaed to the kirk.And weel he kent that ladye fair45Amang her maidens free;For the flower that springs in May morningWas not sae sweet as she.He lighted at the ladye's yate,And sat him on a pin;50And 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 sang55Was—"Your 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 bonny bird's sang.60"Sing on, sing on, my bonny bird,The sang ye sung yestreen;For weel I ken, by your sweet singing,Ye are frae my true love sen."O first he sang a merry sang,65And syne he sang a grave;And syne he pick'd his feathers gray,To her the letter gave."Have there a letter from Lord William;He says he's sent ye three;70He 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,75Lang, lang ere it be stale."The lady's gane to her chamber,And a moanfu' woman was she;As gin she had ta'en a sudden brash,And were about to die.80"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,85Weel 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;90And the next kirk that ye come to,Ye's gar the bells be rung."And when you come to St. Mary's kirk,Ye's tarry there till night."And so her father pledg'd his word,95And so his promise plight.She has ta'en her to her bigly bourAs fast as she could fare;And she has drank a sleepy draught,That she had mix'd wi' care.100And pale, pale, grew her rosy cheek,That was sae bright of blee,And she seem'd to be as surely deadAs any one could be.Then spake her cruel step-minnie,105"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 it on her breast;110"Alas! alas!" her father cried,"She's dead without the priest."She neither chatter'd with her teeth,Nor shiver'd with her chin;"Alas! alas!" her father cried,115"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.120Then up and gat her seven sisters,And sewed to her a kell;And every steek that they put inSewed to a siller bell.The first Scots kirk that they cam to,125They garr'd the bells be rung;The next Scots kirk that they cam to,They garr'd the mass be sung.But when they cam to St. Mary's kirk,There stude spearmen all on a raw;130And up and started Lord William,The chieftane amang them a.'"Set down, set down the bier," he said,"Let me look her upon:"But as soon as Lord William touch'd her hand,135Her colour began to come.She brightened like the lily flower,Till her pale colour was gone;With rosy cheek, and ruby lip,She smiled her love upon.140"A morsel of your bread, my lord,And one glass of your wine;For I hae fasted these three lang days,All for your sake and mine.—"Gae hame, gae hame, my seven bauld brothers,145Gae hame and blaw your horn!I trow ye wad hae gi'en me the skaith,But I've gi'en you the scorn."Commend me to my grey father,That wished my saul gude rest;150But 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 ye die!For we left father and sisters at hame155Breaking their hearts for thee."

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

"O have ye tint, at tournament,5Your sword, or yet your spear?Or mourn ye for the southern lass,Whom ye may not win near?"

"I have not tint, at tournament,My sword nor yet my spear;10But sair I mourn for my true love,Wi' mony a bitter tear.

"But weel's me on ye, my gay goss-hawk,Ye can baith speak and flee;Ye sall carry a letter to my love,15Bring an answer back to me."

"But how sall 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."20

"O weel sall 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 cheek,25Is 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 bouer-doorThere grows a flowering birk;30And ye maun sit and sing thereonAs she gangs to the kirk.

"And four-and-twenty fair ladyesWill to the mass repair;But weel may ye my ladye ken,35The fairest ladye there."

Lord William has written a love-letter,Put it under his pinion gray;And he is awa to southern landAs fast as wings can gae.40

And even at the ladye's bourThere grew a flowering birk;And he sat down and sung thereonAs she gaed to the kirk.

And weel he kent that ladye fair45Amang her maidens free;For the flower that springs in May morningWas not sae sweet as she.

He lighted at the ladye's yate,And sat him on a pin;50And 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 sang55Was—"Your 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 bonny bird's sang.60

"Sing on, sing on, my bonny bird,The sang ye sung yestreen;For weel I ken, by your sweet singing,Ye are frae my true love sen."

O first he sang a merry sang,65And syne he sang a grave;And syne he pick'd his feathers gray,To her the letter gave.

"Have there a letter from Lord William;He says he's sent ye three;70He 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,75Lang, lang ere it be stale."

The lady's gane to her chamber,And a moanfu' woman was she;As gin she had ta'en a sudden brash,And were about to die.80

"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,85Weel 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;90And the next kirk that ye come to,Ye's gar the bells be rung.

"And when you come to St. Mary's kirk,Ye's tarry there till night."And so her father pledg'd his word,95And so his promise plight.

She has ta'en her to her bigly bourAs fast as she could fare;And she has drank a sleepy draught,That she had mix'd wi' care.100

And pale, pale, grew her rosy cheek,That was sae bright of blee,And she seem'd to be as surely deadAs any one could be.

Then spake her cruel step-minnie,105"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 it on her breast;110"Alas! alas!" her father cried,"She's dead without the priest."

She neither chatter'd with her teeth,Nor shiver'd with her chin;"Alas! alas!" her father cried,115"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.120

Then up and gat her seven sisters,And sewed to her a kell;And every steek that they put inSewed to a siller bell.

The first Scots kirk that they cam to,125They garr'd the bells be rung;The next Scots kirk that they cam to,They garr'd the mass be sung.

But when they cam to St. Mary's kirk,There stude spearmen all on a raw;130And up and started Lord William,The chieftane amang them a.'

"Set down, set down the bier," he said,"Let me look her upon:"But as soon as Lord William touch'd her hand,135Her colour began to come.

She brightened like the lily flower,Till her pale colour was gone;With rosy cheek, and ruby lip,She smiled her love upon.140

"A morsel of your bread, my lord,And one glass of your wine;For I hae fasted these three lang days,All for your sake and mine.—

"Gae hame, gae hame, my seven bauld brothers,145Gae hame and blaw your horn!I trow ye wad hae gi'en me the skaith,But I've gi'en you the scorn.

"Commend me to my grey father,That wished my saul gude rest;150But 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 ye die!For we left father and sisters at hame155Breaking their hearts for thee."

v.26. This simile resembles a passage in a MS. translation of an Irish Fairy tale, calledThe Adventures of Faravla, Princess of Scotland, and Carral O'Daly, Son of Donogho More O'Daly, Chief Bard of Ireland. "Faravla, as she entered her bower, cast her looks upon the earth, which was tinged with the blood of a bird which a raven had newly killed: 'Like that snow,' said Faravla, 'was the complexion of my beloved, his cheeks like the sanguine traces thereon; whilst the raven recalls to my memory the colour of his beautiful locks.'" There is also some resemblance in the conduct of the story, betwixt the ballad and the tale just quoted. The Princess Faravla, being desperately in love with Carral O'Daly, despatches in search of him a faithful confidante, who, by her magical art, transforms herself into a hawk, and, perching upon the windows of the bard, conveys to him information of the distress of the Princess of Scotland.Scott.

Motherwell'sMinstrelsy, p. 353.

"O well is me, my jolly goshawk,That ye can speak and flee;For ye can carry a love-letterTo my true love from me.""O how can I carry a letter to her,5When 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 whiteIs that of dove or maw;10The thing of my love's face that's redIs 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,15As 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."20And 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,25He flew unto the whin;And there he sat and sung their loves,As she went out and in."Come hitherward, my maidens all,And sip red wine anon,30Till 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 lap35The bird the letter threw."Ye'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."40"I send him the rings from my white fingers,The garlands off my hair;I send him the heart that's in my breast:What would my love have mair?And at the fourth kirk in fair Scotland,45Ye'll 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,—50That, 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,55You 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!60"And now, my tender father dear,This asking grant you me:""Your asking is but small," he said,"Weel granted it shall be."

"O well is me, my jolly goshawk,That ye can speak and flee;For ye can carry a love-letterTo my true love from me."

"O how can I carry a letter to her,5When 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 whiteIs that of dove or maw;10The thing of my love's face that's redIs 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,15As 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."20

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,25He flew unto the whin;And there he sat and sung their loves,As she went out and in.

"Come hitherward, my maidens all,And sip red wine anon,30Till 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 lap35The bird the letter threw.

"Ye'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."40

"I send him the rings from my white fingers,The garlands off my hair;I send him the heart that's in my breast:What would my love have mair?And at the fourth kirk in fair Scotland,45Ye'll 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,—50That, 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,55You 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!60

"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 her sister, and lastly from her seven brothers.]

Then down as dead that lady drapp'd,65Beside 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,70And 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,75So 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;80The 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,85And the steeking silken wark."But well is me, my jolly goshawk,That ye can speak and flee;Come shew to me any love tokensThat you have brought to me."90"She sends you the rings from her fingers,The garlands from her hair;She sends you the heart within her breast:And what would you have mair?And at the fourth kirk of fair Scotland,95She 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."100At 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,105They dealt gold for her sake;And the fourth kirk of fair ScotlandHer true love met them at."Set down, set down the corpse," he said,"Till I look on the dead;110The 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 rent the sheet upon her face,115A little aboon her chin;With lily white cheek, and lemin' eyne,She lookt and laugh'd to him."Give me a chive of your bread, my love,A bottle of your wine;120For 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,125Gae 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;130But 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,135To wear the gold so red."

Then down as dead that lady drapp'd,65Beside 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,70And 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,75So 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;80The 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,85And the steeking silken wark.

"But well is me, my jolly goshawk,That ye can speak and flee;Come shew to me any love tokensThat you have brought to me."90

"She sends you the rings from her fingers,The garlands from her hair;She sends you the heart within her breast:And what would you have mair?And at the fourth kirk of fair Scotland,95She 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."100

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,105They dealt gold for her sake;And the fourth kirk of fair ScotlandHer true love met them at.

"Set down, set down the corpse," he said,"Till I look on the dead;110The 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 rent the sheet upon her face,115A little aboon her chin;With lily white cheek, and lemin' eyne,She lookt and laugh'd to him.

"Give me a chive of your bread, my love,A bottle of your wine;120For 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,125Gae 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;130But 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,135To wear the gold so red."

From Buchan'sBallads of the North of Scotland, i. 118.

Lady Maisry forth from her bower came,And stood on her tower head;She thought she heard a bridle ring,The sound did her heart guid.She thought it was her first true love,5Whom she loved ance in time;But it was her new love, Hunting,Come frae the hunting o' the hyn'."Gude morrow, gude morrow, Lady Maisry,God make you safe and free!10I'm come to take my last farewell,And pay my last visit to thee.""O stay, O stay then, young Hunting,O stay with me this night;Ye shall ha'e cheer, an' charcoal clear,15And candles burning bright.""Have no more cheer, you lady fair,An hour langer for me;I have a lady in Garmouth townI love better than thee."20"O if your love be changed, my love,Since better canno' be,Nevertheless, for auld lang syne,Ye'll stay this night wi' me."Silver, silver shall be your wage,25And gowd shall be your fee;And nine times nine into the year,Your weed shall changed be."Will ye gae to the cards or dice,Or to a tavern fine?30Or will ye gae to a table forebye,And birl baith beer and wine?""I winna gang to the cards nor dice,Nor to a tavern fine;But I will gang to a table forebye,35And birl baith beer and wine."Then she has drawn for young HuntingThe beer but and the wine,Till she got him as deadly drunkAs ony unhallowed swine.40Then she's ta'en out a trusty brand,That hang below her gare;Then she's wounded him, young Hunting,A deep wound and a sair.Then out it speaks her comrade,45Being in the companie:"Alas! this deed that ye ha'e done,Will ruin baith you and me.""Heal well, heal well, you Lady Katharine,Heal well this deed on me;50The robes that were shapen for my bodie,They shall be sewed for thee.""Tho' I wou'd heal it never sae well,And never sae well," said she,"There is a God above us baith,55That can baith hear and see."They booted him and spurred him,As he'd been gaun to ride;A hunting-horn about his neck,A sharp sword by his side.60And they rode on, and farther on,All the lang summer's tide,Until they came to wan water,Where a' man ca's it Clyde.Thedeepest pot in Clyde's water,65Therethey flang him in,And put a turf on his breast bane,To had young Hunting down.O out it speaks a little wee bird,As she sat on the brier:70"Gae hame, gae hame, ye Lady Maisry,And pay your maiden's hire.""O I will pay my maiden's hire,And hire I'll gi'e to thee;If ye'll conceal this fatal deed,75Ye's ha'e gowd for your fee."Then out it speaks a bonny bird,That flew aboon their head;"Keep well, keep well your green claithingFrae ae drap o' his bluid."80"O I'll keep well my green claithingFrae ae drap o' his bluid,Better than I'll do your flattering tongue,That flutters in your head."Come down, come down, my bonny bird,85Light down upon my hand;For ae gowd feather that's in your wing,I wou'd gi'e a' my land.""How shall I come down, how can I come down,How shall I come down to thee?90The things ye said to young Hunting,The same ye're saying to me."But it fell out on that same day,The king was going to ride,And he call'd for him, young Hunting,95For to ride by his side.Then out it speaks the little young son,Sat on the nurse's knee,"It fears me sair," said that young babe,"He's in bower wi' yon ladie."100Then they ha'e call'd her, Lady Katharine,And she sware by the thorn,That she saw not him, young Hunting,Sin' yesterday at morn.Then they ha'e call'd her, Lady Maisry,105And she sware by the moon,That she saw not him, young Hunting,Sin' yesterday at noon."He was playing him at the Clyde's water,Perhaps he has fa'en in:"110The king he call'd his divers all,To dive for his young son.They div'd in thro' the wan burn-bank,Sae did they out thro' the other:"We'll dive nae mair," said these young men,115"Suppose he were our brother."Then out it spake a little bird,That flew aboon their head:"Dive on, dive on, ye divers all,For there he lies indeed.120"But ye'll leave aff your day diving,And ye'll dive in the night;The pot where young Hunting lies in,The candles they'll burn bright."There are twa ladies in yon bower,125And even in yon ha',And they ha'e kill'd him, young Hunting,And casten him awa'."They booted him and spurred him,As he'd been gaun to ride;130A hunting horn tied round his neck,A sharp sword by his side."The deepest pot o' Clyde's water,There they flang him in,Laid a turf on his breast bane,135To had young Hunting down."Now they left aff their day diving,And they dived on the night;The pot that young Hunting lay in,The candles were burning bright.140The king he call'd his hewers all,To hew down wood and thorn,For to put up a strong bale-fire,These ladies for to burn.And they ha'e ta'en her, Lady Katharine,145And they ha'e pitten her in;But it wadna light upon her cheek,Nor wou'd it on her chin,But sang the points o' her yellow hair,For healing the deadly sin.150Then they ha'e ta'en her, Lady Maisry,And they ha'e put her in:First it lighted on her cheek,And syne upon her chin,And sang the points o' her yellow hair,155And she burnt like keckle-pin.

Lady Maisry forth from her bower came,And stood on her tower head;She thought she heard a bridle ring,The sound did her heart guid.

She thought it was her first true love,5Whom she loved ance in time;But it was her new love, Hunting,Come frae the hunting o' the hyn'.

"Gude morrow, gude morrow, Lady Maisry,God make you safe and free!10I'm come to take my last farewell,And pay my last visit to thee."

"O stay, O stay then, young Hunting,O stay with me this night;Ye shall ha'e cheer, an' charcoal clear,15And candles burning bright."

"Have no more cheer, you lady fair,An hour langer for me;I have a lady in Garmouth townI love better than thee."20

"O if your love be changed, my love,Since better canno' be,Nevertheless, for auld lang syne,Ye'll stay this night wi' me.

"Silver, silver shall be your wage,25And gowd shall be your fee;And nine times nine into the year,Your weed shall changed be.

"Will ye gae to the cards or dice,Or to a tavern fine?30Or will ye gae to a table forebye,And birl baith beer and wine?"

"I winna gang to the cards nor dice,Nor to a tavern fine;But I will gang to a table forebye,35And birl baith beer and wine."

Then she has drawn for young HuntingThe beer but and the wine,Till she got him as deadly drunkAs ony unhallowed swine.40

Then she's ta'en out a trusty brand,That hang below her gare;Then she's wounded him, young Hunting,A deep wound and a sair.

Then out it speaks her comrade,45Being in the companie:"Alas! this deed that ye ha'e done,Will ruin baith you and me."

"Heal well, heal well, you Lady Katharine,Heal well this deed on me;50The robes that were shapen for my bodie,They shall be sewed for thee."

"Tho' I wou'd heal it never sae well,And never sae well," said she,"There is a God above us baith,55That can baith hear and see."

They booted him and spurred him,As he'd been gaun to ride;A hunting-horn about his neck,A sharp sword by his side.60

And they rode on, and farther on,All the lang summer's tide,Until they came to wan water,Where a' man ca's it Clyde.

Thedeepest pot in Clyde's water,65Therethey flang him in,And put a turf on his breast bane,To had young Hunting down.

O out it speaks a little wee bird,As she sat on the brier:70"Gae hame, gae hame, ye Lady Maisry,And pay your maiden's hire."

"O I will pay my maiden's hire,And hire I'll gi'e to thee;If ye'll conceal this fatal deed,75Ye's ha'e gowd for your fee."

Then out it speaks a bonny bird,That flew aboon their head;"Keep well, keep well your green claithingFrae ae drap o' his bluid."80

"O I'll keep well my green claithingFrae ae drap o' his bluid,Better than I'll do your flattering tongue,That flutters in your head.

"Come down, come down, my bonny bird,85Light down upon my hand;For ae gowd feather that's in your wing,I wou'd gi'e a' my land."

"How shall I come down, how can I come down,How shall I come down to thee?90The things ye said to young Hunting,The same ye're saying to me."

But it fell out on that same day,The king was going to ride,And he call'd for him, young Hunting,95For to ride by his side.

Then out it speaks the little young son,Sat on the nurse's knee,"It fears me sair," said that young babe,"He's in bower wi' yon ladie."100

Then they ha'e call'd her, Lady Katharine,And she sware by the thorn,That she saw not him, young Hunting,Sin' yesterday at morn.

Then they ha'e call'd her, Lady Maisry,105And she sware by the moon,That she saw not him, young Hunting,Sin' yesterday at noon.

"He was playing him at the Clyde's water,Perhaps he has fa'en in:"110The king he call'd his divers all,To dive for his young son.

They div'd in thro' the wan burn-bank,Sae did they out thro' the other:"We'll dive nae mair," said these young men,115"Suppose he were our brother."

Then out it spake a little bird,That flew aboon their head:"Dive on, dive on, ye divers all,For there he lies indeed.120

"But ye'll leave aff your day diving,And ye'll dive in the night;The pot where young Hunting lies in,The candles they'll burn bright.

"There are twa ladies in yon bower,125And even in yon ha',And they ha'e kill'd him, young Hunting,And casten him awa'.

"They booted him and spurred him,As he'd been gaun to ride;130A hunting horn tied round his neck,A sharp sword by his side.

"The deepest pot o' Clyde's water,There they flang him in,Laid a turf on his breast bane,135To had young Hunting down."

Now they left aff their day diving,And they dived on the night;The pot that young Hunting lay in,The candles were burning bright.140

The king he call'd his hewers all,To hew down wood and thorn,For to put up a strong bale-fire,These ladies for to burn.

And they ha'e ta'en her, Lady Katharine,145And they ha'e pitten her in;But it wadna light upon her cheek,Nor wou'd it on her chin,But sang the points o' her yellow hair,For healing the deadly sin.150

Then they ha'e ta'en her, Lady Maisry,And they ha'e put her in:First it lighted on her cheek,And syne upon her chin,And sang the points o' her yellow hair,155And she burnt like keckle-pin.

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