34. Anciently the supreme criminal court of Scotland was composed of nine members, viz. the Justiciar, or Justice General, and his eight Deputes.Kinloch.
34. Anciently the supreme criminal court of Scotland was composed of nine members, viz. the Justiciar, or Justice General, and his eight Deputes.Kinloch.
Maidment'sNorth Countrie Garland, p. 19.
Then down cam Queen MarieWi' gold links in her hair,Saying, "Marie mild, where is the child,That I heard greet sair sair?""There was nae child wi' me, madam,5There was nae child wi' me;It was but me in a sair cholic,When I was like to die.""I'm not deceived," Queen Marie said,"No, no, indeed, not I!10So Marie mild, where is the child?For sure I heard it cry."She turned down the blankets fine,Likewise the Holland sheet,And underneath, there strangled lay15A lovely baby sweet."O cruel mother," said the Queen,"Some fiend possessed thee;But I will hang thee for this deed,My Marie tho' thou be!"20* * * * * *When she cam to the Nether-Bow Port,She laugh't loud laughters three;But when she cam to the gallows foot,The saut tear blinded her ee."Yestreen the Queen had four Maries,25The night she'll hae but three;There was Marie Seton, and Marie Beaton,And Marie Carmichael and me."Ye mariners, ye mariners,That sail upon the sea,30Let not my father or mother witThe death that I maun die."I was my parents' only hope,They ne'er had ane but me;They little thought when I left hame,35They should nae mair me see!"
Then down cam Queen MarieWi' gold links in her hair,Saying, "Marie mild, where is the child,That I heard greet sair sair?"
"There was nae child wi' me, madam,5There was nae child wi' me;It was but me in a sair cholic,When I was like to die."
"I'm not deceived," Queen Marie said,"No, no, indeed, not I!10So Marie mild, where is the child?For sure I heard it cry."
She turned down the blankets fine,Likewise the Holland sheet,And underneath, there strangled lay15A lovely baby sweet.
"O cruel mother," said the Queen,"Some fiend possessed thee;But I will hang thee for this deed,My Marie tho' thou be!"20
* * * * * *
When she cam to the Nether-Bow Port,She laugh't loud laughters three;But when she cam to the gallows foot,The saut tear blinded her ee.
"Yestreen the Queen had four Maries,25The night she'll hae but three;There was Marie Seton, and Marie Beaton,And Marie Carmichael and me.
"Ye mariners, ye mariners,That sail upon the sea,30Let not my father or mother witThe death that I maun die.
"I was my parents' only hope,They ne'er had ane but me;They little thought when I left hame,35They should nae mair me see!"
From Motherwell'sMinstrelsy, p. 51; taken down from recitation.
Yesterday was brave Hallowday,And, above all days of the year,The schoolboys all got leave to play,And little Sir Hugh was there.He kicked the ball with his foot,5And kepped it with his knee,And even in at the Jew's windowHe gart the bonnie ba' flee.Out then came the Jew's daughter,—"Will ye come in and dine?"10"I winna come in and I canna come inTill I get that ball of mine."Throw down that ball to me, maiden,Throw down the ball to me.""I winna throw down your ball, Sir Hugh,15Till ye come up to me."She pu'd the apple frae the tree,It was baith red and green,She gave it unto little Sir Hugh,With that his heart did win.20She wiled him into ae chamber,She wiled him into twa,She wiled him into the third chamber,And that was warst o't a'.She took out a little penknife,25Hung low down by her spare,She twined this young thing o' his life,And a word he ne'er spak mair.And first came out the thick, thick blood,And syne came out the thin,30And syne came out the bonnie heart's blood,—There was nae mair within.She laid him on a dressing table,She dress'd him like a swine,Says, "Lie ye there, my bonnie Sir Hugh,35Wi' ye're apples red and green!"She put him in a case of lead,Says, "Lie ye there and sleep!"She threw him into the deep draw-wellWas fifty fathom deep.40A schoolboy walking in the gardenDid grievously hear him moan,He ran away to the deep draw-wellAnd fell down on his knee.Says, "Bonnie Sir Hugh, and pretty Sir Hugh,45I pray you speak to me;If you speak to any body in this world,I pray you speak to me."When bells were rung and mass was sung,And every body went hame,50Then every lady had her son,But Lady Helen had nane.She rolled her mantle her about,And sore, sore did she weep;She ran away to the Jew's castle,55When all were fast asleep.She cries, "Bonnie Sir Hugh, O pretty Sir Hugh,I pray you speak to me;If you speak to any body in this world,I pray you speak to me."60"Lady Helen, if ye want your son,I'll tell ye where to seek;Lady Helen, if ye want your son,He's in the well sae deep."She ran away to the deep draw-well,65And she fell down on her knee;Saying, "Bonnie Sir Hugh, O pretty Sir Hugh,I pray ye speak to me;If ye speak to any body in the world,I pray ye speak to me."70"Oh! the lead it is wondrous heavy, mother,The well it is wondrous deep;The little penknife sticks in my throat,And I downa to ye speak.But lift me out o' this deep draw-well,75And bury me in yon churchyard;"Put a Bible at my head," he says,"And a testament at my feet,And pen and ink at every side,And I'll lie still and sleep.80"And go to the back of Maitland town,Bring me my winding sheet;For it's at the back of Maitland townThat you and I shall meet."O the broom, the bonny, bonny broom,85The broom that makes full sore,A woman's mercy is very little,But a man's mercy is more.
Yesterday was brave Hallowday,And, above all days of the year,The schoolboys all got leave to play,And little Sir Hugh was there.
He kicked the ball with his foot,5And kepped it with his knee,And even in at the Jew's windowHe gart the bonnie ba' flee.
Out then came the Jew's daughter,—"Will ye come in and dine?"10"I winna come in and I canna come inTill I get that ball of mine.
"Throw down that ball to me, maiden,Throw down the ball to me.""I winna throw down your ball, Sir Hugh,15Till ye come up to me."
She pu'd the apple frae the tree,It was baith red and green,She gave it unto little Sir Hugh,With that his heart did win.20
She wiled him into ae chamber,She wiled him into twa,She wiled him into the third chamber,And that was warst o't a'.
She took out a little penknife,25Hung low down by her spare,She twined this young thing o' his life,And a word he ne'er spak mair.
And first came out the thick, thick blood,And syne came out the thin,30And syne came out the bonnie heart's blood,—There was nae mair within.
She laid him on a dressing table,She dress'd him like a swine,Says, "Lie ye there, my bonnie Sir Hugh,35Wi' ye're apples red and green!"
She put him in a case of lead,Says, "Lie ye there and sleep!"She threw him into the deep draw-wellWas fifty fathom deep.40
A schoolboy walking in the gardenDid grievously hear him moan,He ran away to the deep draw-wellAnd fell down on his knee.
Says, "Bonnie Sir Hugh, and pretty Sir Hugh,45I pray you speak to me;If you speak to any body in this world,I pray you speak to me."
When bells were rung and mass was sung,And every body went hame,50Then every lady had her son,But Lady Helen had nane.
She rolled her mantle her about,And sore, sore did she weep;She ran away to the Jew's castle,55When all were fast asleep.
She cries, "Bonnie Sir Hugh, O pretty Sir Hugh,I pray you speak to me;If you speak to any body in this world,I pray you speak to me."60
"Lady Helen, if ye want your son,I'll tell ye where to seek;Lady Helen, if ye want your son,He's in the well sae deep."
She ran away to the deep draw-well,65And she fell down on her knee;Saying, "Bonnie Sir Hugh, O pretty Sir Hugh,I pray ye speak to me;If ye speak to any body in the world,I pray ye speak to me."70
"Oh! the lead it is wondrous heavy, mother,The well it is wondrous deep;The little penknife sticks in my throat,And I downa to ye speak.
But lift me out o' this deep draw-well,75And bury me in yon churchyard;"Put a Bible at my head," he says,"And a testament at my feet,And pen and ink at every side,And I'll lie still and sleep.80
"And go to the back of Maitland town,Bring me my winding sheet;For it's at the back of Maitland townThat you and I shall meet."
O the broom, the bonny, bonny broom,85The broom that makes full sore,A woman's mercy is very little,But a man's mercy is more.
From Hume'sSir Hugh of Lincoln, p. 35; obtained from recitation, in Ireland.
'Twas on a summer's morning,Some scholars were playing at ball;When out came the Jew's daughterAnd lean'd her back against the wall.She said unto the fairest boy,5"Come here to me, Sir Hugh.""No! I will not," said he,"Without my playfellows too."She took an apple out of her pocket,And trundled it along the plain;10And who was readiest to lift it,Was little Sir Hugh, again.She took him by the milk-white han',An' led him through many a hall,Until they came to one stone chamber,15Where no man might hear his call.She sat him in a goolden chair,And jagg'd him with a pin;And called for a goolden cupTo houl' his heart's blood in.20She tuk him by the yellow hair,An' also by the feet;An' she threw him in the deep draw well,It was fifty fadom deep.Day bein' over, the night came on,25And the scholars all went home;Then every mother had her son,But little Sir Hugh's had none.She put her mantle about her head,Tuk a little rod in her han',30An' she says, "Sir Hugh, if I fin' you here,I will bate you for stayin' so long."First she went to the Jew's door,But they were fast asleep;An' then she went to the deep draw-well,35That was fifty fadom deep.She says, "Sir Hugh, if you be here,As I suppose you be,If ever the dead or quick arose,Arise and spake to me."40Yes, mother dear, I am here,I know I have staid very long;But a little penknife was stuck in my heart,Till the stream ran down full strong.And mother dear, when you go home,45Tell my playfellows all,That I lost my life by leaving themWhen playing that game of ball.And ere another day is gone,My winding-sheet prepare,50And bury me in the green churchyardWhere the flowers are bloomin' fair.Lay my Bible at my head,My testament at my feet;The earth and worms shall be my bed,55Till Christ and I shall meet.
'Twas on a summer's morning,Some scholars were playing at ball;When out came the Jew's daughterAnd lean'd her back against the wall.
She said unto the fairest boy,5"Come here to me, Sir Hugh.""No! I will not," said he,"Without my playfellows too."
She took an apple out of her pocket,And trundled it along the plain;10And who was readiest to lift it,Was little Sir Hugh, again.
She took him by the milk-white han',An' led him through many a hall,Until they came to one stone chamber,15Where no man might hear his call.
She sat him in a goolden chair,And jagg'd him with a pin;And called for a goolden cupTo houl' his heart's blood in.20
She tuk him by the yellow hair,An' also by the feet;An' she threw him in the deep draw well,It was fifty fadom deep.
Day bein' over, the night came on,25And the scholars all went home;Then every mother had her son,But little Sir Hugh's had none.
She put her mantle about her head,Tuk a little rod in her han',30An' she says, "Sir Hugh, if I fin' you here,I will bate you for stayin' so long."
First she went to the Jew's door,But they were fast asleep;An' then she went to the deep draw-well,35That was fifty fadom deep.
She says, "Sir Hugh, if you be here,As I suppose you be,If ever the dead or quick arose,Arise and spake to me."40
Yes, mother dear, I am here,I know I have staid very long;But a little penknife was stuck in my heart,Till the stream ran down full strong.
And mother dear, when you go home,45Tell my playfellows all,That I lost my life by leaving themWhen playing that game of ball.
And ere another day is gone,My winding-sheet prepare,50And bury me in the green churchyardWhere the flowers are bloomin' fair.
Lay my Bible at my head,My testament at my feet;The earth and worms shall be my bed,55Till Christ and I shall meet.
From Buchan'sBallads of the North of Scotland, i. 1.
The King sits in Dunfermline town,A-drinking at the wine;Says, "Where will I get a good skipperWill sail the saut seas fine?"Out it speaks an eldren knight5Amang the companie,—"Young Patrick Spens is the best skipperThat ever sail'd the sea."The king he wrote a braid letter,And seal'd it wi' his ring;10Says, "Ye'll gi'e that to Patrick Spens:See if ye can him find."He sent this, not wi' an auld man,Nor yet a simple boy,But the best o' nobles in his train15This letter did convoy.When Patrick look'd the letter uponA light laugh then ga'e he;But ere he read it till an end,The tear blinded his e'e.20"Ye'll eat and drink, my merry men a',An' see ye be weell thorn;For blaw it weet, or blaw it wind,My guid ship sails the morn."Then out it speaks a guid auld man,25A guid death mat he dee,—"Whatever ye do, my guid master,Tak' God your guide to bee."For late yestreen I saw the new moon,The auld moon in her arm."30"Ohon, alas!" says Patrick Spens,"That bodes a deadly storm."But I maun sail the seas the morn,And likewise sae maun you;To Noroway, wi' our king's daughter,—35A chosen queen she's now."But I wonder who has been sae base,As tauld the king o' mee:Even tho' hee ware my ae brither,An ill death mat he dee."40Now Patrick he rigg'd out his ship,And sailed ower the faem;But mony a dreary thought had hee,While hee was on the main.They hadna sail'd upon the sea45A day but barely three,Till they came in sight o' Noroway,It's there where they must bee.They hadna stayed into that placeA month but and a day,50Till he caus'd the flip in mugs gae roun',And wine in cans sae gay.The pipe and harp sae sweetly play'd,The trumpets loudly soun';In every hall where in they stay'd,55Wi' their mirth did reboun'.Then out it speaks an auld skipper,An inbearing dog was hee,—"Ye've stay'd ower lang in Noroway,Spending your king's monie."60Then out it speaks Sir Patrick Spens,—"O how can a' this bee?I ha'e a bow o' guid red gowdInto my ship wi' mee."But betide me well, betide me wae,65This day I'se leave the shore;And never spend my king's monie'Mong Noroway dogs no more."Young Patrick hee is on the sea,And even on the faem,70Wi' five-an-fifty Scots lords' sons,That lang'd to bee at hame.They hadna sail'd upon the seaA day but barely three,Till loud and boistrous grew the wind,75And stormy grew the sea."O where will I get a little wee boyWill tak' my helm in hand,Till I gae up to my tapmast,And see for some dry land?"80He hadna gane to his tapmastA step but barely three;Ere thro' and thro' the bonny ship's side,He saw the green haw sea."There are five-an-fifty feather beds85Well packed in ae room;And ye'll get as muckle guid canvasAs wrap the ship a' roun';"Ye'll pict her well, and spare her not,And mak' her hale and soun'."90But ere he had the word well spokeThe bonny ship was down.O laith, laith were our guid lords' sonsTo weet their milk-white hands;But lang ere a' the play was ower95They wat their gowden bands.O laith, laith were our Scots lords' sonsTo weet their coal-black shoon;But lang ere a' the play was owerThey wat their hats aboon.100It's even ower by AberdourIt's fifty fathoms deep,And yonder lies Sir Patrick Spens,And a's men at his feet.It's even ower by Aberdour,105There's mony a craig and fin,And yonder lies Sir Patrick Spens,Wi' mony a guid lord's son.Lang, lang will the ladyes lookInto their morning weed,110Before they see young Patrick SpensCome sailing ower the fleed.Lang, lang will the ladyes lookWi' their fans in their hand,Before they see him, Patrick Spens,115Come sailing to dry land.
The King sits in Dunfermline town,A-drinking at the wine;Says, "Where will I get a good skipperWill sail the saut seas fine?"
Out it speaks an eldren knight5Amang the companie,—"Young Patrick Spens is the best skipperThat ever sail'd the sea."
The king he wrote a braid letter,And seal'd it wi' his ring;10Says, "Ye'll gi'e that to Patrick Spens:See if ye can him find."
He sent this, not wi' an auld man,Nor yet a simple boy,But the best o' nobles in his train15This letter did convoy.
When Patrick look'd the letter uponA light laugh then ga'e he;But ere he read it till an end,The tear blinded his e'e.20
"Ye'll eat and drink, my merry men a',An' see ye be weell thorn;For blaw it weet, or blaw it wind,My guid ship sails the morn."
Then out it speaks a guid auld man,25A guid death mat he dee,—"Whatever ye do, my guid master,Tak' God your guide to bee.
"For late yestreen I saw the new moon,The auld moon in her arm."30"Ohon, alas!" says Patrick Spens,"That bodes a deadly storm.
"But I maun sail the seas the morn,And likewise sae maun you;To Noroway, wi' our king's daughter,—35A chosen queen she's now.
"But I wonder who has been sae base,As tauld the king o' mee:Even tho' hee ware my ae brither,An ill death mat he dee."40
Now Patrick he rigg'd out his ship,And sailed ower the faem;But mony a dreary thought had hee,While hee was on the main.
They hadna sail'd upon the sea45A day but barely three,Till they came in sight o' Noroway,It's there where they must bee.
They hadna stayed into that placeA month but and a day,50Till he caus'd the flip in mugs gae roun',And wine in cans sae gay.
The pipe and harp sae sweetly play'd,The trumpets loudly soun';In every hall where in they stay'd,55Wi' their mirth did reboun'.
Then out it speaks an auld skipper,An inbearing dog was hee,—"Ye've stay'd ower lang in Noroway,Spending your king's monie."60
Then out it speaks Sir Patrick Spens,—"O how can a' this bee?I ha'e a bow o' guid red gowdInto my ship wi' mee.
"But betide me well, betide me wae,65This day I'se leave the shore;And never spend my king's monie'Mong Noroway dogs no more."
Young Patrick hee is on the sea,And even on the faem,70Wi' five-an-fifty Scots lords' sons,That lang'd to bee at hame.
They hadna sail'd upon the seaA day but barely three,Till loud and boistrous grew the wind,75And stormy grew the sea.
"O where will I get a little wee boyWill tak' my helm in hand,Till I gae up to my tapmast,And see for some dry land?"80
He hadna gane to his tapmastA step but barely three;Ere thro' and thro' the bonny ship's side,He saw the green haw sea.
"There are five-an-fifty feather beds85Well packed in ae room;And ye'll get as muckle guid canvasAs wrap the ship a' roun';
"Ye'll pict her well, and spare her not,And mak' her hale and soun'."90But ere he had the word well spokeThe bonny ship was down.
O laith, laith were our guid lords' sonsTo weet their milk-white hands;But lang ere a' the play was ower95They wat their gowden bands.
O laith, laith were our Scots lords' sonsTo weet their coal-black shoon;But lang ere a' the play was owerThey wat their hats aboon.100
It's even ower by AberdourIt's fifty fathoms deep,And yonder lies Sir Patrick Spens,And a's men at his feet.
It's even ower by Aberdour,105There's mony a craig and fin,And yonder lies Sir Patrick Spens,Wi' mony a guid lord's son.
Lang, lang will the ladyes lookInto their morning weed,110Before they see young Patrick SpensCome sailing ower the fleed.
Lang, lang will the ladyes lookWi' their fans in their hand,Before they see him, Patrick Spens,115Come sailing to dry land.
From Buchan'sBallads of the North of Scotland, ii. 39.
It fell about the Lammas time,When wightsmen won their hay;A' the squires in merry Linkum,Went a' forth till a play.They play'd until the evening tide,5The sun was gaeing down;A lady thro' plain fields was bound,A lily leesome thing.Two squires that for this lady pledged,In hopes for a renown;10The one was call'd the proud Seaton,The other Livingston."When will ye, Michaell o' Livingston,Wad for this lady gay?""To-morrow, to-morrow," said Livingston,15"To-morrow, if you may."Then they hae wadded their wagers,And laid their pledges down;To the high castle o' Edinbro'They made them ready boun'.20The chamber that they did gang in,There it was daily dight;The kipples were like the gude red gowd,As they stood up in hight;And the roof-tree like the siller white,25And shin'd like candles bright.The lady fair into that ha'Was comely to be seen;Her kirtle was made o' the pa',Her gowns seem'd o' the green.30Her gowns seem'd like green, like green,Her kirtle o' the pa';A siller wand intill her hand,She marshall'd ower them a'.She gae every knight a lady bright,35And every squire a may;Her own sell chose him, Livingston,They were a comely tway.Then Seaton started till his foot,The fierce flame in his e'e:40"On the next day, wi' sword in hand,On plain fields, meet ye me."When bells were rung, and mass was sung,And a' man bound for bed;Lord Livingston and his fair dame45In bed were sweetly laid.The bed, the bed, where they lay in,Was cover'd wi' the pa';A covering o' the gude red gowd,Lay nightly ower the twa.50So they lay there, till on the mornThe sun shone on their feet;Then up it raise him, Livingston,To draw to him a weed.The first an' weed that he drew on,55Was o' the linen clear;The next an' weed that he drew on,It was a weed o' weir.The niest an' weed that he drew on,Was gude iron and steel;60Twa gloves o' plate, a gowden helmet,Became that hind chiel weel.Then out it speaks that lady gay,A little forbye stood she;"I'll dress mysell in men's array,65Gae to the fields for thee.""O God forbid," said Livingston,"That e'er I dree the shame;My lady slain in plain fields,And I coward knight at hame!"70He scarcely travelled frae the townA mile but barely twa,Till he met wi' a witch woman,I pray to send her wae."This is too gude a day, my lord,75To gang sae far frae town;This is too gude a day, my lord,On field to make you boun'."I dream'd a dream concerning thee,O read ill dreams to guid!80Your bower was full o' milk-white swans,Your bride's bed full o' bluid.""O bluid is gude," said Livingston,"To bide it whoso may;If I be frae yon plain fields,85Nane knew the plight I lay."Then he rade on to plain fields,As swift's his horse cou'd hie;And there he met the proud Seaton,Come boldly ower the lee.90"Come on to me now, Livingston,Or then take foot and flee;This is the day that we must tryWho gains the victorie."Then they fought with sword in hand,95Till they were bluidy men;But on the point o' Seaton's swordBrave Livingston was slain.His lady lay ower castle wa',Beholding dale and down,100When Blenchant brave, his gallant steed,Came prancing to the town."O where is now my ain gude lord,He stays sae far frae me?""O dinna ye see your ain gude lord,105Stand bleeding by your knee?""O live, O live, Lord Livingston,The space o' ae half hour;There's nae a leech in Edinbro' townBut I'll bring to your door."110"Awa' wi' your leeches, lady," he said,"Of them I'll be the waur;There's nae a leech in Edinbro' town,That can strong death debar."Ye'll take the lands o' Livingston,115And deal them liberallie;To the auld that may not, the young that cannot,And blind that does na see;And help young maidens' marriages,That has nae gear to gie."120"My mother got it in a book,The first night I was born,I wou'd be wedded till a knight,And him slain on the morn."But I will do for my love's sake125What ladies woudna thole;Ere seven years shall hae an end,Nae shoe's gang on my sole."There's never lint gang on my head,Nor kame gang in my hair,130Nor ever coal nor candle light,Shine in my bower mair."When seven years were near an end,The lady she thought lang;And wi' a crack her heart did brake,135And sae this ends my sang.
It fell about the Lammas time,When wightsmen won their hay;A' the squires in merry Linkum,Went a' forth till a play.
They play'd until the evening tide,5The sun was gaeing down;A lady thro' plain fields was bound,A lily leesome thing.
Two squires that for this lady pledged,In hopes for a renown;10The one was call'd the proud Seaton,The other Livingston.
"When will ye, Michaell o' Livingston,Wad for this lady gay?""To-morrow, to-morrow," said Livingston,15"To-morrow, if you may."
Then they hae wadded their wagers,And laid their pledges down;To the high castle o' Edinbro'They made them ready boun'.20
The chamber that they did gang in,There it was daily dight;The kipples were like the gude red gowd,As they stood up in hight;And the roof-tree like the siller white,25And shin'd like candles bright.
The lady fair into that ha'Was comely to be seen;Her kirtle was made o' the pa',Her gowns seem'd o' the green.30
Her gowns seem'd like green, like green,Her kirtle o' the pa';A siller wand intill her hand,She marshall'd ower them a'.
She gae every knight a lady bright,35And every squire a may;Her own sell chose him, Livingston,They were a comely tway.
Then Seaton started till his foot,The fierce flame in his e'e:40"On the next day, wi' sword in hand,On plain fields, meet ye me."
When bells were rung, and mass was sung,And a' man bound for bed;Lord Livingston and his fair dame45In bed were sweetly laid.
The bed, the bed, where they lay in,Was cover'd wi' the pa';A covering o' the gude red gowd,Lay nightly ower the twa.50
So they lay there, till on the mornThe sun shone on their feet;Then up it raise him, Livingston,To draw to him a weed.
The first an' weed that he drew on,55Was o' the linen clear;The next an' weed that he drew on,It was a weed o' weir.
The niest an' weed that he drew on,Was gude iron and steel;60Twa gloves o' plate, a gowden helmet,Became that hind chiel weel.
Then out it speaks that lady gay,A little forbye stood she;"I'll dress mysell in men's array,65Gae to the fields for thee."
"O God forbid," said Livingston,"That e'er I dree the shame;My lady slain in plain fields,And I coward knight at hame!"70
He scarcely travelled frae the townA mile but barely twa,Till he met wi' a witch woman,I pray to send her wae.
"This is too gude a day, my lord,75To gang sae far frae town;This is too gude a day, my lord,On field to make you boun'.
"I dream'd a dream concerning thee,O read ill dreams to guid!80Your bower was full o' milk-white swans,Your bride's bed full o' bluid."
"O bluid is gude," said Livingston,"To bide it whoso may;If I be frae yon plain fields,85Nane knew the plight I lay."
Then he rade on to plain fields,As swift's his horse cou'd hie;And there he met the proud Seaton,Come boldly ower the lee.90
"Come on to me now, Livingston,Or then take foot and flee;This is the day that we must tryWho gains the victorie."
Then they fought with sword in hand,95Till they were bluidy men;But on the point o' Seaton's swordBrave Livingston was slain.
His lady lay ower castle wa',Beholding dale and down,100When Blenchant brave, his gallant steed,Came prancing to the town.
"O where is now my ain gude lord,He stays sae far frae me?""O dinna ye see your ain gude lord,105Stand bleeding by your knee?"
"O live, O live, Lord Livingston,The space o' ae half hour;There's nae a leech in Edinbro' townBut I'll bring to your door."110
"Awa' wi' your leeches, lady," he said,"Of them I'll be the waur;There's nae a leech in Edinbro' town,That can strong death debar.
"Ye'll take the lands o' Livingston,115And deal them liberallie;To the auld that may not, the young that cannot,And blind that does na see;And help young maidens' marriages,That has nae gear to gie."120
"My mother got it in a book,The first night I was born,I wou'd be wedded till a knight,And him slain on the morn.
"But I will do for my love's sake125What ladies woudna thole;Ere seven years shall hae an end,Nae shoe's gang on my sole.
"There's never lint gang on my head,Nor kame gang in my hair,130Nor ever coal nor candle light,Shine in my bower mair."
When seven years were near an end,The lady she thought lang;And wi' a crack her heart did brake,135And sae this ends my sang.
Buchan'sBallads of the North of Scotland, i. 43.
Clerk Tamas lov'd her, fair Annie,As well as Mary lov'd her son;But now he hates her, fair Annie,And hates the lands that she lives in."Ohon, alas!" said fair Annie,5"Alas! this day I fear I'll die;But I will on to sweet Tamas,And see gin he will pity me."As Tamas lay ower his shott-window,Just as the sun was gaen down,10There he beheld her, fair Annie,As she came walking to the town."O where are a' my well-wight men,I wat that I pay meat and fee,For to lat a' my hounds gang loose,15To hunt this vile whore to the sea!"The hounds they knew the lady well,And nane o' them they wou'd her bite;Save ane that is ca'd Gaudy-where,I wat he did the lady smite.20"O wae mat worth ye, Gaudy-where,An ill reward this is to me;For ae bit that I gae the lave,I'm very sure I've gi'en you three."For me, alas! there's nae remeid,25Here comes the day that I maun die;I ken ye lov'd your master well,And sae, alas for me, did I!"A captain lay ower his ship window,Just as the sun was gaen down;30There he beheld her, fair Annie,As she was hunted frae the town."Gin ye'll forsake father and mither,And sae will ye your friends and kin,Gin ye'll forsake your lands sae broad,35Then come and I will take you in.""Yes, I'll forsake baith father and mither,And sae will I my friends and kin,Yes, I'll forsake my lands sae broad,And come, gin ye will take me in."40Then a' thing gaed frae fause Tamas,And there was naething byde him wi';Then he thought lang for Arrandella,It was fair Annie for to see."How do ye now, ye sweet Tamas?45And how gaes a' in your countrie?""I'll do better to you than ever I've done,Fair Annie, gin ye'll come an' see.""O Guid forbid," said fair Annie,"That e'er the like fa' in my hand;50Wou'd I forsake my ain gude lord,And follow you, a gae-through-land?"Yet nevertheless now, sweet Tamas,Ye'll drink a cup o' wine wi' me;And nine times in the live lang day,55Your fair claithing shall changed be."Fair Annie pat it till her cheek,Sae did she till her milk-white chin,Sae did she till her flattering lips,But never a drap o' wine gaed in.60Tamas pat it till his cheek,Sae did he till his dimpled chin;He pat it till his rosy lips,And then the well o' wine gaed in."These pains," said he, "are ill to bide;65Here is the day that I maun die;O take this cup frae me, Annie,For o' the same I am weary.""And sae was I, o' you, Tamas,When I was hunted to the sea;70But I'se gar bury you in state,Which is mair than ye'd done to me."
Clerk Tamas lov'd her, fair Annie,As well as Mary lov'd her son;But now he hates her, fair Annie,And hates the lands that she lives in.
"Ohon, alas!" said fair Annie,5"Alas! this day I fear I'll die;But I will on to sweet Tamas,And see gin he will pity me."
As Tamas lay ower his shott-window,Just as the sun was gaen down,10There he beheld her, fair Annie,As she came walking to the town.
"O where are a' my well-wight men,I wat that I pay meat and fee,For to lat a' my hounds gang loose,15To hunt this vile whore to the sea!"
The hounds they knew the lady well,And nane o' them they wou'd her bite;Save ane that is ca'd Gaudy-where,I wat he did the lady smite.20
"O wae mat worth ye, Gaudy-where,An ill reward this is to me;For ae bit that I gae the lave,I'm very sure I've gi'en you three.
"For me, alas! there's nae remeid,25Here comes the day that I maun die;I ken ye lov'd your master well,And sae, alas for me, did I!"
A captain lay ower his ship window,Just as the sun was gaen down;30There he beheld her, fair Annie,As she was hunted frae the town.
"Gin ye'll forsake father and mither,And sae will ye your friends and kin,Gin ye'll forsake your lands sae broad,35Then come and I will take you in."
"Yes, I'll forsake baith father and mither,And sae will I my friends and kin,Yes, I'll forsake my lands sae broad,And come, gin ye will take me in."40
Then a' thing gaed frae fause Tamas,And there was naething byde him wi';Then he thought lang for Arrandella,It was fair Annie for to see.
"How do ye now, ye sweet Tamas?45And how gaes a' in your countrie?""I'll do better to you than ever I've done,Fair Annie, gin ye'll come an' see."
"O Guid forbid," said fair Annie,"That e'er the like fa' in my hand;50Wou'd I forsake my ain gude lord,And follow you, a gae-through-land?
"Yet nevertheless now, sweet Tamas,Ye'll drink a cup o' wine wi' me;And nine times in the live lang day,55Your fair claithing shall changed be."
Fair Annie pat it till her cheek,Sae did she till her milk-white chin,Sae did she till her flattering lips,But never a drap o' wine gaed in.60
Tamas pat it till his cheek,Sae did he till his dimpled chin;He pat it till his rosy lips,And then the well o' wine gaed in.
"These pains," said he, "are ill to bide;65Here is the day that I maun die;O take this cup frae me, Annie,For o' the same I am weary."
"And sae was I, o' you, Tamas,When I was hunted to the sea;70But I'se gar bury you in state,Which is mair than ye'd done to me."
From Motherwell'sMinstrelsy, Appendix, p. ix. The same in Buchan's collection, ii. 159.
John Thomson fought against the TurksThree years, intill a far countrie;And all that time, and something mair,Was absent from his gay ladie.But it fell ance upon a time,5As this young chieftain sat alane,He spied his lady in rich array,As she walk'd ower a rural plain."What brought ye here, my lady gay,So far awa from your ain countrie?10I've thought lang, and very lang,And all for your fair face to see."For some days she did with him stay,Till it fell ance upon a day,"Fareweel, for a time," she said,15"For now I must boun hame away."He's gi'en to her a jewel fine,Was set with pearl and precious stane;Says, "My love, beware of these savages boldThat's in your way as ye gang hame.20"Ye'll tak the road, my lady fair,That leads you fair across the lea:That keeps you from wild Hind Soldan,And likewise from base Violentrie."Wi' heavy heart thir twa did pairt,25She mintet as she wuld gae hame;Hind Soldan by the Greeks was slain,But to base Violentrie she's gane.When a twelvemonth had expired,John Thomson he thought wondrous lang,30And he has written a braid letter,And sealed it weel wi' his ain hand.He sent it with a small vesselThat there was quickly gaun to sea;And sent it on to fair Scotland,35To see about his gay ladie.But the answer he received again,—The lines did grieve his heart right sair:Nane of her friends there had her seen,For a twelvemonth and something mair.40Then he put on a palmer's weed,And took a pike-staff in his hand;To Violentrie's castell he hied;But slowly, slowly he did gang.When within the hall he came,45He jooked and couch'd out ower his tree:"If ye be lady of this hall,Some of your good bountith gie me.""What news, what news, palmer," she said,"And from what countrie cam ye?"50"I'm lately come from Grecian plains,Where lies some of the Scots armie.""If ye be come from Grecian plains,Some mair news I will ask of thee,—Of one of the chieftains that lies there,55If he has lately seen his gay ladie.""It is twa months, and something mair,Since we did pairt on yonder plain;And now this knight has began to fearOne of his foes he has her ta'en."60"He has not ta'en me by force nor slight;It was a' by my ain free will;He may tarry into the fight,For here I mean to tarry still."And if John Thomson ye do see,65Tell him I wish him silent sleep;His head was not so coziely,Nor yet sae weel, as lies at my feet."With that he threw aff his strange disguise,Laid by the mask that he had on;70Said, "Hide me now, my lady fair,For Violentrie will soon be hame.""For the love I bore thee ance,I'll strive to hide you, if I can:"Then she put him down in a dark cellar75Where there lay many a new slain man.But he hadna in the cellar been,Not an hour but barely three,Then hideous was the noise he heard,When in at the gate cam Violentrie.80Says, "I wish you well, my lady fair,It's time for us to sit to dine;Come, serve me with the good white bread,And likewise with the claret wine."That Scots chieftain, our mortal fae,85Sae aft frae the field has made us flee,Ten thousand zechins this day I'll giveThat I his face could only see.""Of that same gift wuld ye give me,If I wuld bring him unto thee?90I fairly hold you at your word;—Come ben, John Thomson, to my lord."Then from the vault John Thomson came,Wringing his hands most piteouslie:"What would ye do," the Turk he cried,95"If ye had me as I hae thee?""If I had you as ye have me,I'll tell ye what I'd do to thee;I'd hang you up in good greenwood,And cause your ain hand wale the tree.100"I meant to stick you with my knifeFor kissing my beloved ladie:""But that same weed ye've shaped for me,It quickly shall be sewed for thee."Then to the wood they baith are gane;105John Thomson clamb frae tree to tree;And aye he sighed and said, "Och hone!Here comes the day that I must die."He tied a ribbon on every branch,Put up a flag his men might see;110But little did his false faes kenHe meant them any injurie.He set his horn unto his mouth,And he has blawn baith loud and schill:And then three thousand armed men115Cam tripping all out ower the hill."Deliver us our chief," they all did cry;"It's by our hand that ye must die;""Here is your chief," the Turk replied,With that fell on his bended knee.120"O mercy, mercy, good fellows all,Mercy I pray you'll grant to me;""Such mercy as ye meant to give,Such mercy we shall give to thee."This Turk they in his castel burnt,125That stood upon yon hill so hie;John Thomson's gay ladie they tookAnd hanged her on yon greenwood tree.
John Thomson fought against the TurksThree years, intill a far countrie;And all that time, and something mair,Was absent from his gay ladie.
But it fell ance upon a time,5As this young chieftain sat alane,He spied his lady in rich array,As she walk'd ower a rural plain.
"What brought ye here, my lady gay,So far awa from your ain countrie?10I've thought lang, and very lang,And all for your fair face to see."
For some days she did with him stay,Till it fell ance upon a day,"Fareweel, for a time," she said,15"For now I must boun hame away."
He's gi'en to her a jewel fine,Was set with pearl and precious stane;Says, "My love, beware of these savages boldThat's in your way as ye gang hame.20
"Ye'll tak the road, my lady fair,That leads you fair across the lea:That keeps you from wild Hind Soldan,And likewise from base Violentrie."
Wi' heavy heart thir twa did pairt,25She mintet as she wuld gae hame;Hind Soldan by the Greeks was slain,But to base Violentrie she's gane.
When a twelvemonth had expired,John Thomson he thought wondrous lang,30And he has written a braid letter,And sealed it weel wi' his ain hand.
He sent it with a small vesselThat there was quickly gaun to sea;And sent it on to fair Scotland,35To see about his gay ladie.
But the answer he received again,—The lines did grieve his heart right sair:Nane of her friends there had her seen,For a twelvemonth and something mair.40
Then he put on a palmer's weed,And took a pike-staff in his hand;To Violentrie's castell he hied;But slowly, slowly he did gang.
When within the hall he came,45He jooked and couch'd out ower his tree:"If ye be lady of this hall,Some of your good bountith gie me."
"What news, what news, palmer," she said,"And from what countrie cam ye?"50"I'm lately come from Grecian plains,Where lies some of the Scots armie."
"If ye be come from Grecian plains,Some mair news I will ask of thee,—Of one of the chieftains that lies there,55If he has lately seen his gay ladie."
"It is twa months, and something mair,Since we did pairt on yonder plain;And now this knight has began to fearOne of his foes he has her ta'en."60
"He has not ta'en me by force nor slight;It was a' by my ain free will;He may tarry into the fight,For here I mean to tarry still.
"And if John Thomson ye do see,65Tell him I wish him silent sleep;His head was not so coziely,Nor yet sae weel, as lies at my feet."
With that he threw aff his strange disguise,Laid by the mask that he had on;70Said, "Hide me now, my lady fair,For Violentrie will soon be hame."
"For the love I bore thee ance,I'll strive to hide you, if I can:"Then she put him down in a dark cellar75Where there lay many a new slain man.
But he hadna in the cellar been,Not an hour but barely three,Then hideous was the noise he heard,When in at the gate cam Violentrie.80
Says, "I wish you well, my lady fair,It's time for us to sit to dine;Come, serve me with the good white bread,And likewise with the claret wine.
"That Scots chieftain, our mortal fae,85Sae aft frae the field has made us flee,Ten thousand zechins this day I'll giveThat I his face could only see."
"Of that same gift wuld ye give me,If I wuld bring him unto thee?90I fairly hold you at your word;—Come ben, John Thomson, to my lord."
Then from the vault John Thomson came,Wringing his hands most piteouslie:"What would ye do," the Turk he cried,95"If ye had me as I hae thee?"
"If I had you as ye have me,I'll tell ye what I'd do to thee;I'd hang you up in good greenwood,And cause your ain hand wale the tree.100
"I meant to stick you with my knifeFor kissing my beloved ladie:""But that same weed ye've shaped for me,It quickly shall be sewed for thee."
Then to the wood they baith are gane;105John Thomson clamb frae tree to tree;And aye he sighed and said, "Och hone!Here comes the day that I must die."
He tied a ribbon on every branch,Put up a flag his men might see;110But little did his false faes kenHe meant them any injurie.
He set his horn unto his mouth,And he has blawn baith loud and schill:And then three thousand armed men115Cam tripping all out ower the hill.
"Deliver us our chief," they all did cry;"It's by our hand that ye must die;""Here is your chief," the Turk replied,With that fell on his bended knee.120
"O mercy, mercy, good fellows all,Mercy I pray you'll grant to me;""Such mercy as ye meant to give,Such mercy we shall give to thee."
This Turk they in his castel burnt,125That stood upon yon hill so hie;John Thomson's gay ladie they tookAnd hanged her on yon greenwood tree.
From Maidment'sNorth Countrie Garland, p. 1.