Lord William was the bravest knightThat dwalt in fair Scotland,And though renown'd in France and Spain,Fell by a ladie's hand.As she was walking maid alone,5Down by yon shady wood,She heard a smit o' bridle reins,She wish'd might be for good."Come to my arms, my dear Willie,You're welcome hame to me;10To best o' cheer andcharcoal red,And candle burning free."—"I winna light, I darena light,Nor come to your arms at a';A fairer maid than ten o' you15I'll meet at Castle-law."—"A fairer maid than me, Willie!A fairer maid than me!A fairer maid than ten o' meYour eyes did never see."—20He louted ower his saddle lap,To kiss her ere they part,And wi' a little keen bodkin,She pierced him to the heart."Ride on, ride on, Lord William now,25As fast as ye can dree!Your bonny lass at Castle-lawWill weary you to see."—Out up then spake a bonny bird,Sat high upon a tree,—30"How could you kill that noble lord?He came to marry thee."—"Come down, come down, my bonny bird,And eat bread aff my hand!Your cage shall be of wiry goud,35Whar now it's but the wand."—"Keep ye your cage o' goud, lady,And I will keep my tree;As ye hae done to Lord William,Sae wad ye do to me."—40She set her foot on her door step,A bonny marble stane,And carried him to her chamber,O'er him to make her mane.And she has kept that good lord's corpse45Three quarters of a year,Until that word began to spread;Then she began to fear.Then she cried on her waiting maid,Aye ready at her ca';50"There is a knight into my bower,'Tis time he were awa."—The ane has ta'en him by the head,The ither by the feet,And thrown him in the wan water,55That ran baith wide and deep."Look back, look back, now, lady fair,On him that lo'ed ye weel!A better man than that blue corpseNe'er drew a sword of steel."—60
Lord William was the bravest knightThat dwalt in fair Scotland,And though renown'd in France and Spain,Fell by a ladie's hand.
As she was walking maid alone,5Down by yon shady wood,She heard a smit o' bridle reins,She wish'd might be for good.
"Come to my arms, my dear Willie,You're welcome hame to me;10To best o' cheer andcharcoal red,And candle burning free."—
"I winna light, I darena light,Nor come to your arms at a';A fairer maid than ten o' you15I'll meet at Castle-law."—
"A fairer maid than me, Willie!A fairer maid than me!A fairer maid than ten o' meYour eyes did never see."—20
He louted ower his saddle lap,To kiss her ere they part,And wi' a little keen bodkin,She pierced him to the heart.
"Ride on, ride on, Lord William now,25As fast as ye can dree!Your bonny lass at Castle-lawWill weary you to see."—
Out up then spake a bonny bird,Sat high upon a tree,—30"How could you kill that noble lord?He came to marry thee."—
"Come down, come down, my bonny bird,And eat bread aff my hand!Your cage shall be of wiry goud,35Whar now it's but the wand."—
"Keep ye your cage o' goud, lady,And I will keep my tree;As ye hae done to Lord William,Sae wad ye do to me."—40
She set her foot on her door step,A bonny marble stane,And carried him to her chamber,O'er him to make her mane.
And she has kept that good lord's corpse45Three quarters of a year,Until that word began to spread;Then she began to fear.
Then she cried on her waiting maid,Aye ready at her ca';50"There is a knight into my bower,'Tis time he were awa."—
The ane has ta'en him by the head,The ither by the feet,And thrown him in the wan water,55That ran baith wide and deep.
"Look back, look back, now, lady fair,On him that lo'ed ye weel!A better man than that blue corpseNe'er drew a sword of steel."—60
11.Charcoal red.This circumstance marks the antiquity of the poem. While wood was plenty in Scotland, charcoal was the usual fuel in the chambers of the wealthy.Scott.
11.Charcoal red.This circumstance marks the antiquity of the poem. While wood was plenty in Scotland, charcoal was the usual fuel in the chambers of the wealthy.Scott.
Was first published in theMinstrelsy of the Scottish Border, iii. 269, and was obtained from the recitation of Miss Christian Rutherford. Another copy, also from recitation, issubjoined.
Prince Robert has wedded a gay ladye,He has wedded her with a ring:Prince Robert has wedded a gay ladye,But he darna bring her hame."Your blessing, your blessing, my mother dear!5Your blessing now grant to me!"—"Instead of a blessing ye sall have my curse,And you'll get nae blessing frae me."—She has call'd upon her waiting-maid,To fill a glass of wine;10She has call'd upon her fause steward,To put rank poison in.She has put it to her roudes lip,And to her roudes chin;She has put it to her fause, fause mouth,15But the never a drap gaed in.He has put it to his bonny mouth,And to his bonny chin,He's put it to his cherry lip,And sae fast the rank poison ran in.20"O ye hae poison'd your ae son, mother,Your ae son and your heir;O ye hae poison'd your ae son, mother,And sons you'll never hae mair."O where will I get a little boy,25That will win hose and shoon,To rin sae fast to Darlinton,And bid fair Eleanor come?"—Then up and spake a little boy,That wad win hose and shoon,—30"O I'll away to Darlinton,And bid fair Eleanor come."—O he has run to Darlinton,And tirled at the pin;And wha was sae ready as Eleanor's sell35To let the bonny boy in."Your gude-mother has made ye a rare dinour,She's made it baith gude and fine;Your gude-mother has made ye a gay dinour,And ye maun cum till her and dine."—40It's twenty lang miles to Sillertoun town,The langest that ever were gane:But the steed it was wight, and the ladye was light,And she cam linkin' in.But when she came to Sillertoun town,45And into Sillertoun ha',The torches were burning, the ladies were mourning,And they were weeping a'."O where is now my wedded lord,And where now can he be?50O where is now my wedded lord?For him I canna see."—"Your wedded lord is dead," she says,"And just gane to be laid in the clay:Your wedded lord is dead," she says,55"And just gane to be buried the day."Ye'se get nane o' his gowd, ye'se get nane o' his gear,Ye'se get nae thing frae me;Ye'se no get an inch o' his gude braid land,Though your heart suld burst in three."—60"I want nane o' his gowd, I want nane o' his gear,I want nae land frae thee:But I'll hae the rings that's on his finger,For them he did promise to me."—"Ye'se no get the rings that's on his finger,65Ye'se no get them frae me;Ye'se no get the rings that's on his finger,An your heart suld burst in three."—She's turn'd her back unto the wa',And her face unto a rock;70And there, before the mother's face,Her very heart it broke.The tane was buried in Marie's kirk,The tother in Marie's quair;And out o' the tane there sprang a birk,75And out o' the tother a brier.And thae twa met, and thae twa plat,The birk but and the brier;And by that ye may very weel kenThey were twa lovers dear.80
Prince Robert has wedded a gay ladye,He has wedded her with a ring:Prince Robert has wedded a gay ladye,But he darna bring her hame.
"Your blessing, your blessing, my mother dear!5Your blessing now grant to me!"—"Instead of a blessing ye sall have my curse,And you'll get nae blessing frae me."—
She has call'd upon her waiting-maid,To fill a glass of wine;10She has call'd upon her fause steward,To put rank poison in.
She has put it to her roudes lip,And to her roudes chin;She has put it to her fause, fause mouth,15But the never a drap gaed in.
He has put it to his bonny mouth,And to his bonny chin,He's put it to his cherry lip,And sae fast the rank poison ran in.20
"O ye hae poison'd your ae son, mother,Your ae son and your heir;O ye hae poison'd your ae son, mother,And sons you'll never hae mair.
"O where will I get a little boy,25That will win hose and shoon,To rin sae fast to Darlinton,And bid fair Eleanor come?"—
Then up and spake a little boy,That wad win hose and shoon,—30"O I'll away to Darlinton,And bid fair Eleanor come."—
O he has run to Darlinton,And tirled at the pin;And wha was sae ready as Eleanor's sell35To let the bonny boy in.
"Your gude-mother has made ye a rare dinour,She's made it baith gude and fine;Your gude-mother has made ye a gay dinour,And ye maun cum till her and dine."—40
It's twenty lang miles to Sillertoun town,The langest that ever were gane:But the steed it was wight, and the ladye was light,And she cam linkin' in.
But when she came to Sillertoun town,45And into Sillertoun ha',The torches were burning, the ladies were mourning,And they were weeping a'.
"O where is now my wedded lord,And where now can he be?50O where is now my wedded lord?For him I canna see."—
"Your wedded lord is dead," she says,"And just gane to be laid in the clay:Your wedded lord is dead," she says,55"And just gane to be buried the day.
"Ye'se get nane o' his gowd, ye'se get nane o' his gear,Ye'se get nae thing frae me;Ye'se no get an inch o' his gude braid land,Though your heart suld burst in three."—60
"I want nane o' his gowd, I want nane o' his gear,I want nae land frae thee:But I'll hae the rings that's on his finger,For them he did promise to me."—
"Ye'se no get the rings that's on his finger,65Ye'se no get them frae me;Ye'se no get the rings that's on his finger,An your heart suld burst in three."—
She's turn'd her back unto the wa',And her face unto a rock;70And there, before the mother's face,Her very heart it broke.
The tane was buried in Marie's kirk,The tother in Marie's quair;And out o' the tane there sprang a birk,75And out o' the tother a brier.
And thae twa met, and thae twa plat,The birk but and the brier;And by that ye may very weel kenThey were twa lovers dear.80
"Given," says Motherwell, "from the recitation of an old woman, a native of Bonhill, in Dumbartonshire; and it is one of the earliest songs she remembers of having heard chanted on the classic banks of the Water of Leaven."—Minstrelsy, p. 200.
Another copy is noted by the same editor as containing the following stanzas:—
Lord Robert and Mary Florence,They wer twa children ying;They were scarce seven years of ageTill luve began to spring.Lord Robert loved Mary Florence,And she lov'd him above power;But he durst not for his cruel mitherBring her intill his bower.
Lord Robert and Mary Florence,They wer twa children ying;They were scarce seven years of ageTill luve began to spring.Lord Robert loved Mary Florence,And she lov'd him above power;But he durst not for his cruel mitherBring her intill his bower.
It's fifty miles to Sittingen's rocks,As ever was ridden or gane;And Earl Robert has wedded a wife,But he dare na bring her hame.And Earl Robert has wedded a wife,&c.His mother, she call'd to her waiting-maid:"O bring me a pint of wine,For I dinna weel ken what hour of this dayThat my son Earl Robert shall dine."She's put it to her fause, fause cheek,But an' her fause, fause chin;10She's put it to her fause, fause lips;But never a drap went in.But he's put it to his bonny cheek,Aye and his bonny chin;He's put it to his red rosy lips,15And the poison went merrily down."O where will I get a bonny boy,That will win hose and shoon,—That will gang quickly to Sittingen's rocks,And bid my lady come?"20It's out then speaks a bonny boy,To Earl Robert was something akin:"Many a time have I run thy errand,But this day with the tears I'll rin."O when he cam to Sittingen's rocks,25To the middle of a' the ha',There were bells a ringing, and music playing,And ladies dancing a'."What news, what news, my bonny boy,What news have ye to me?30Is Earl Robert in very good health,And the ladies of your countrie?""O Earl Robert's in very good health,And as weel as a man can be;But his mother this night has a drink to be druken,35And at it you must be."She called to her waiting-maid,To bring her a riding weed;And she called to her stable groom,To saddle her milk-white steed.40But when she came to Earl Robert's bouir,To the middle of a' the ha',There were bells a ringing and sheets down hinging,And ladies murning a'."I've come for none of his gold," she said,45"Nor none of his white monie;Excepting a ring of his smallest finger,If that you will grant me.""Thou'll no get none of his gold," she said."Nor none of his white monie;50Thou'll no get a ring of his smallest finger,Tho' thy heart should break in three."She set her foot unto a stone,Her back unto a tree;She set her foot unto a stone,55And her heart did break in three!The one was buried in Mary's kirk,The other in Mary's quier;Out of the one there grew a bush,From the other a bonnie brier.60And thir twa grew, and thir twa threw,Till thir twa craps drew near;So all the world may plainly seeThat they lov'd each other dear.
It's fifty miles to Sittingen's rocks,As ever was ridden or gane;And Earl Robert has wedded a wife,But he dare na bring her hame.And Earl Robert has wedded a wife,&c.
His mother, she call'd to her waiting-maid:"O bring me a pint of wine,For I dinna weel ken what hour of this dayThat my son Earl Robert shall dine."
She's put it to her fause, fause cheek,But an' her fause, fause chin;10She's put it to her fause, fause lips;But never a drap went in.
But he's put it to his bonny cheek,Aye and his bonny chin;He's put it to his red rosy lips,15And the poison went merrily down.
"O where will I get a bonny boy,That will win hose and shoon,—That will gang quickly to Sittingen's rocks,And bid my lady come?"20
It's out then speaks a bonny boy,To Earl Robert was something akin:"Many a time have I run thy errand,But this day with the tears I'll rin."
O when he cam to Sittingen's rocks,25To the middle of a' the ha',There were bells a ringing, and music playing,And ladies dancing a'.
"What news, what news, my bonny boy,What news have ye to me?30Is Earl Robert in very good health,And the ladies of your countrie?"
"O Earl Robert's in very good health,And as weel as a man can be;But his mother this night has a drink to be druken,35And at it you must be."
She called to her waiting-maid,To bring her a riding weed;And she called to her stable groom,To saddle her milk-white steed.40
But when she came to Earl Robert's bouir,To the middle of a' the ha',There were bells a ringing and sheets down hinging,And ladies murning a'.
"I've come for none of his gold," she said,45"Nor none of his white monie;Excepting a ring of his smallest finger,If that you will grant me."
"Thou'll no get none of his gold," she said."Nor none of his white monie;50Thou'll no get a ring of his smallest finger,Tho' thy heart should break in three."
She set her foot unto a stone,Her back unto a tree;She set her foot unto a stone,55And her heart did break in three!
The one was buried in Mary's kirk,The other in Mary's quier;Out of the one there grew a bush,From the other a bonnie brier.60
And thir twa grew, and thir twa threw,Till thir twa craps drew near;So all the world may plainly seeThat they lov'd each other dear.
From Motherwell'sMinstrelsy, p. 230.
"This local ballad, which commemorates some real event, is given from the recitation of an old woman, residing in the neighbourhood of Cambus Michael, Perthshire. It possesses the elements of good poetry, and, had it fallen into the hands of those who make no scruple of interpolating and corrupting the text of oral song, it might have been made, with little trouble, a very interesting and pathetic composition.
"Kercock and Balathy are two small villages on the banks of the Tay; the latter is nearly opposite Stobhall. According to tradition, the ill-fated hero of the ballad had a leman in each of these places; and it was on the occasion of his paying a visit to his Kercock love, that the jealous dame in Balathy Toun, from a revengeful feeling, scuttled the boat in which he was to recross the Tay to Stobhall."Motherwell.
David Drummond's destinie,Gude man o' appearance o' Cargill;I wat his blude rins in the flude,Sae sair against his parents' will.She was the lass o' Balathy toun,5And he the butler o' Stobhall;And mony a time she wauked late,To bore the coble o' Cargill.His bed was made in Kercock ha',Of gude clean sheets and of the hay;10He wudna rest ae nicht therein,But on the prude waters he wud gae.His bed was made in Balathy toun,Of the clean sheets and of the strae;But I wat it was far better made,15Into the bottom o' bonnie Tay.She bored the coble in seven pairts,I wat her heart might hae been sae sair;For there she got the bonnie lad lost,Wi' the curly locks and the yellow hair.20He put his foot into the boat,He little thocht o' ony ill:But before that he was mid waters,The weary coble began to fill."Woe be to the lass o' Balathy toun,25I wat an ill death may she die;For she bored the coble in seven pairts,And let the waters perish me!"O help, O help I can get nane,Nae help o' man can to me come!"30This was about his dying words,When he was choaked up to the chin."Gae tell my father and my mother,It was naebody did me this ill;I was a-going my ain errands,35Lost at the coble o' bonnie Cargill."She bored the boat in seven pairts,I wat she bored it wi' gude will;And there they got the bonnie lad's corpse,In the kirk-shot o' bonnie Cargill.40O a' the keys o' bonnie Stobha',I wat they at his belt did hing;But a' the keys of bonnie Stobha',They now ly low into the stream.A braver page into his age45Ne'er set a foot upon the plain;His father to his mother said,"O sae sune as we've wanted him!"I wat they had mair luve than this,When they were young and at the scule;50But for his sake she wauked late,And bored the coble o' bonnie Cargill."There's ne'er a clean sark gae on my back,Nor yet a kame gae in my hair;There's neither coal nor candle licht55Shall shine in my bouer for ever mair."At kirk nor market I'se ne'er be at,Nor yet a blythe blink in my ee;There's ne'er a ane shall say to anither,That's the lassie gar'd the young man die."60Between the yetts o' bonnie Stobha',And the kirkstyle o' bonnie Cargill,There is mony a man and mother's sonThat was at my luve's burial.
David Drummond's destinie,Gude man o' appearance o' Cargill;I wat his blude rins in the flude,Sae sair against his parents' will.
She was the lass o' Balathy toun,5And he the butler o' Stobhall;And mony a time she wauked late,To bore the coble o' Cargill.
His bed was made in Kercock ha',Of gude clean sheets and of the hay;10He wudna rest ae nicht therein,But on the prude waters he wud gae.
His bed was made in Balathy toun,Of the clean sheets and of the strae;But I wat it was far better made,15Into the bottom o' bonnie Tay.
She bored the coble in seven pairts,I wat her heart might hae been sae sair;For there she got the bonnie lad lost,Wi' the curly locks and the yellow hair.20
He put his foot into the boat,He little thocht o' ony ill:But before that he was mid waters,The weary coble began to fill.
"Woe be to the lass o' Balathy toun,25I wat an ill death may she die;For she bored the coble in seven pairts,And let the waters perish me!
"O help, O help I can get nane,Nae help o' man can to me come!"30This was about his dying words,When he was choaked up to the chin.
"Gae tell my father and my mother,It was naebody did me this ill;I was a-going my ain errands,35Lost at the coble o' bonnie Cargill."
She bored the boat in seven pairts,I wat she bored it wi' gude will;And there they got the bonnie lad's corpse,In the kirk-shot o' bonnie Cargill.40
O a' the keys o' bonnie Stobha',I wat they at his belt did hing;But a' the keys of bonnie Stobha',They now ly low into the stream.
A braver page into his age45Ne'er set a foot upon the plain;His father to his mother said,"O sae sune as we've wanted him!
"I wat they had mair luve than this,When they were young and at the scule;50But for his sake she wauked late,And bored the coble o' bonnie Cargill.
"There's ne'er a clean sark gae on my back,Nor yet a kame gae in my hair;There's neither coal nor candle licht55Shall shine in my bouer for ever mair.
"At kirk nor market I'se ne'er be at,Nor yet a blythe blink in my ee;There's ne'er a ane shall say to anither,That's the lassie gar'd the young man die."60
Between the yetts o' bonnie Stobha',And the kirkstyle o' bonnie Cargill,There is mony a man and mother's sonThat was at my luve's burial.
Percy'sReliques of English Poetry, iii. 88.
"From an ancient copy in the Editor's folio MS., which was judged to require considerable corrections.
"In the former edition the hero of this piece had been called Sir Robin, but that title not being in the MS. is now omitted.
"Giles, steward to a rich old merchant trading to Portugal, is qualified with the title ofSir, not as being a knight, but rather, I conceive, as having received an inferior order of priesthood."Percy.
Let never again soe old a manMarrye soe yonge a wife,As did old Robin of Portingale;Who may rue all the dayes of his life.For the mayors daughter of Lin, God wott5He chose her to his wife,And thought with her to have lived in love,But they fell to hate and strife.They scarce were in their wed-bed laid,And scarce was hee asleepe,10But upp shee rose, and forth shee goes,To the steward, and gan to weepe."Sleepe you, wake you, faire Sir Gyles?Or be you not within?Sleepe you, wake you, faire Sir Gyles,15Arise and let me inn.""O I am waking, sweete," he said,"Sweete ladye, what is your will?""I haveonbethoughtme of a wileHow my wed lord weel spill.20"Twenty-four good knights," shee sayes,"That dwell about this towne,Even twenty-four of my next cozensWill helpe to dinge him downe."All that beheard his litle footepage,25As he watered his masters steed;And for his masters sad perilleHis verry heart did bleed.He mourned, sighed and wept full sore;I sweare by the holy roode,30The teares he for his master weptWereblentwater and bloude.And that beheard his deare masterAs he stood at his garden pale:Sayes, "Ever alacke, my litle foot-page,35What causes thee to wail?"Hath any one done to thee wronge,Any of thy fellowes here?Or is any of thy good friends dead,That thou shedst manye a teare?40"Or, if it be my head bookes-man,Aggrieved he shal bee:For no man here within my howseShall doe wrong unto thee.""O it is not your head bookes-man,45Nor none of his degree:But,on to-morrowere it be nooneAll deemed to die are yee:"And of that bethank your head steward,And thank your gay ladye."50"If this be true, my litle foot-page,The heyre of my land thoust bee:""If it be not true, my dear master,No good death let me die:""If it be not true, thou litle foot-page,55A dead corse shalt thou bee."O call now downe my faire ladye,O call her downe to mee;And tell my ladye gay how sicke,And like to die I bee."60Downe then came his ladye faire,All clad in purple and pall:The rings that were on her fingers,Cast light thorrow the hall."What is your will, my own wed-lord?65"What is your will with mee?""O see, my ladye deere, how sicke,And like to die I bee.""And thou be sicke, my own wed-lord,Soe sore it grieveth me:70But my five maydens and myselfeWill make the bedde for thee."And at the waking of your first sleepe,We will a hott drinke make;And at the waking of yournextsleepe,75Your sorrowes we will slake."He put a silk cote on his backe,And mail of manye a fold;And hee putt a steele cap on his head,Was gilt with good red gold.80He layd a bright browne sword by his side,And another att his feete:[And twentye good knights he placed at hand,To watch him in his sleepe.]And about the middle time of the night,85Came twentye-four traitours inn;Sir Giles he was the foremost man,The leader of that ginn.Old Robin with his bright browne sword,Sir Gyles head soon did winn;90And scant of all those twenty-fourWent out one quick agenn.None save only a litle foot-page,Crept forth at a window of stone;And he had two armes when he came in,95And he went back with one.Upp then came that ladie gaye,With torches burning bright;She thought to have brought Sir Gyles a drinke,Butt she found her owne wedd knight.100The first thinge that she stumbled onIt was Sir Gyles his foote;Sayes, "Ever alacke, and woe is mee!Here lyes my sweete hart-roote."The next thinge that she stumbled on105It was Sir Gyles his heade;Sayes, "Ever alacke, and woe is me!Heere lyes my true love deade."Hee cutt the pappes beside her brest,And didd her body spille;110He cutt the eares beside her heade,And bade her love her fille.He called up then up his litle foot-page,And made him there his heyre;And sayd, "Henceforth my worldlye goodes,115And countrie I forsweare."He shope the crosse on his right shoulder,Of the whiteclotheand the redde,And went him into the holy land,Wheras Christ was quicke and dead.120
Let never again soe old a manMarrye soe yonge a wife,As did old Robin of Portingale;Who may rue all the dayes of his life.
For the mayors daughter of Lin, God wott5He chose her to his wife,And thought with her to have lived in love,But they fell to hate and strife.
They scarce were in their wed-bed laid,And scarce was hee asleepe,10But upp shee rose, and forth shee goes,To the steward, and gan to weepe.
"Sleepe you, wake you, faire Sir Gyles?Or be you not within?Sleepe you, wake you, faire Sir Gyles,15Arise and let me inn."
"O I am waking, sweete," he said,"Sweete ladye, what is your will?""I haveonbethoughtme of a wileHow my wed lord weel spill.20
"Twenty-four good knights," shee sayes,"That dwell about this towne,Even twenty-four of my next cozensWill helpe to dinge him downe."
All that beheard his litle footepage,25As he watered his masters steed;And for his masters sad perilleHis verry heart did bleed.
He mourned, sighed and wept full sore;I sweare by the holy roode,30The teares he for his master weptWereblentwater and bloude.
And that beheard his deare masterAs he stood at his garden pale:Sayes, "Ever alacke, my litle foot-page,35What causes thee to wail?
"Hath any one done to thee wronge,Any of thy fellowes here?Or is any of thy good friends dead,That thou shedst manye a teare?40
"Or, if it be my head bookes-man,Aggrieved he shal bee:For no man here within my howseShall doe wrong unto thee."
"O it is not your head bookes-man,45Nor none of his degree:But,on to-morrowere it be nooneAll deemed to die are yee:"And of that bethank your head steward,And thank your gay ladye."50
"If this be true, my litle foot-page,The heyre of my land thoust bee:"
"If it be not true, my dear master,No good death let me die:""If it be not true, thou litle foot-page,55A dead corse shalt thou bee.
"O call now downe my faire ladye,O call her downe to mee;And tell my ladye gay how sicke,And like to die I bee."60
Downe then came his ladye faire,All clad in purple and pall:The rings that were on her fingers,Cast light thorrow the hall.
"What is your will, my own wed-lord?65"What is your will with mee?""O see, my ladye deere, how sicke,And like to die I bee."
"And thou be sicke, my own wed-lord,Soe sore it grieveth me:70But my five maydens and myselfeWill make the bedde for thee.
"And at the waking of your first sleepe,We will a hott drinke make;And at the waking of yournextsleepe,75Your sorrowes we will slake."
He put a silk cote on his backe,And mail of manye a fold;And hee putt a steele cap on his head,Was gilt with good red gold.80
He layd a bright browne sword by his side,And another att his feete:[And twentye good knights he placed at hand,To watch him in his sleepe.]
And about the middle time of the night,85Came twentye-four traitours inn;Sir Giles he was the foremost man,The leader of that ginn.
Old Robin with his bright browne sword,Sir Gyles head soon did winn;90And scant of all those twenty-fourWent out one quick agenn.
None save only a litle foot-page,Crept forth at a window of stone;And he had two armes when he came in,95And he went back with one.
Upp then came that ladie gaye,With torches burning bright;She thought to have brought Sir Gyles a drinke,Butt she found her owne wedd knight.100
The first thinge that she stumbled onIt was Sir Gyles his foote;Sayes, "Ever alacke, and woe is mee!Here lyes my sweete hart-roote."
The next thinge that she stumbled on105It was Sir Gyles his heade;Sayes, "Ever alacke, and woe is me!Heere lyes my true love deade."
Hee cutt the pappes beside her brest,And didd her body spille;110He cutt the eares beside her heade,And bade her love her fille.
He called up then up his litle foot-page,And made him there his heyre;And sayd, "Henceforth my worldlye goodes,115And countrie I forsweare."
He shope the crosse on his right shoulder,Of the whiteclotheand the redde,And went him into the holy land,Wheras Christ was quicke and dead.120
19, unbethought.MS.32, blend.47, or to-morrow.MS.75, first.117. Every person who went on a Croisade to the Holy Land usually wore a cross on his upper garment, on the right shoulder, as a badge of his profession. Different nations were distinguished by crosses of different colors: the English wore white, the French red, &c. This circumstance seems to be confounded in the ballad.Percy.MS.118, fleshe.
19, unbethought.
MS.32, blend.
47, or to-morrow.
MS.75, first.
117. Every person who went on a Croisade to the Holy Land usually wore a cross on his upper garment, on the right shoulder, as a badge of his profession. Different nations were distinguished by crosses of different colors: the English wore white, the French red, &c. This circumstance seems to be confounded in the ballad.Percy.
MS.118, fleshe.
First published inMinstrelsy of the Scottish Border, iii. 220.
"This ballad has been popular in many parts of Scotland. It is chiefly given from Mrs. Brown of Falkland's MSS. The expression,
"The boy stared wild like a gray goss-hawk,"v.31,
"The boy stared wild like a gray goss-hawk,"v.31,
strongly resembles that inHardyknute,
"Norse e'en like gray goss-hawk stared wild;"
"Norse e'en like gray goss-hawk stared wild;"
a circumstance which led the Editor to make the strictest inquiry into the authenticity of the song. But every doubt was removed by the evidence of a lady of high rank, who not only recollected the ballad, as having amused her infancy, but could repeat many of the verses, particularly those beautiful stanzas from the 20th to the 25th. The Editor is, therefore, compelled to believe, that the author ofHardyknutecopied the old ballad, if the coincidence be not altogether accidental."Scott.
King Easter has courted her for her lands,King Wester for her fee,King Honour for her comely face,And for her fair bodie.They had not been four months married,5As I have heard them tell,Until the nobles of the landAgainst them did rebel.And they cast kevils them amang,And kevils them between;10And they cast kevils them amang,Wha suld gae kill the king.O some said yea, and some said nay,Their words did not agree;Till up and got him, Fause Foodrage,15And swore it suld be he.When bells were rung, and mass was sung,And a' men bound to bed,King Honour and his gay ladyeIn a high chamber were laid.20Then up and raise him, Fause Foodrage,When a' were fast asleep,And slew the porter in his lodge,That watch and ward did keep.O four and twenty silver keys25Hang hie upon a pin;And aye as ae door he did unlock,He has fasten'd it him behind.Then up and raise him, King Honour,Says—"What means a' this din?30Or what's the matter, Fause Foodrage,Or wha has loot you in?"—"O ye my errand weel sall learn,Before that I depart."—Then drew a knife, baith lang and sharp,35And pierced him to the heart.Then up and got the Queen hersell,And fell low down on her knee,"O spare my life, now, Fause Foodrage!For I never injured thee.40"O spare my life, now, Fause Foodrage!Until I lighter be!And see gin it be lad or lass,King Honour has left me wi'."—"O gin it be a lass," he says,45"Weel nursed it sall be;But gin it be a lad bairn,He sall be hanged hie."I winna spare for his tender age,Nor yet for his hie, hie kin;50But soon as e'er he born is,He sall mount the gallows pin."—O four-and-twenty valiant knightsWere set the Queen to guard;And four stood aye at her bour door,55To keep both watch and ward.But when the time drew near an end,That she suld lighter be,She cast about to find a wile,To set her body free.60O she has birled these merry young menWith the ale but and the wine,Until they were a' deadly drunkAs any wild-wood swine."O narrow, narrow is this window,65And big, big am I grown!"—Yet through the might of Our Ladye,Out at it she is gone.She wander'd up, she wander'd down,She wander'd out and in;70And, at last, into the very swine's stythe,The Queen brought forth a son.Then they cast kevils them amang,Which suld gae seek the Queen;And the kevil fell upon Wise William,75And he sent his wife for him.O when she saw Wise William's wife,The Queen fell on her knee:"Win up, win up, madam!" she says:"What needs this courtesie?"—80"O out o' this I winna rise,Till a boon ye grant to me;To change your lass for this lad bairn,King Honour left me wi'."And ye maun learn my gay goss-hawk85Right weel to breast a steed;And I sall learn your turtle dowAs weel to write and read."And ye maun learn my gay goss-hawkTo wield both bow and brand;90And I sall learn your turtle dowTo lay gowd wi' her hand."At kirk and market when we meet,We'll dare make nae avowe,But—'Dame, how does my gay goss-hawk?'95'Madame, how does my dow?'"When days were gane, and years came on,Wise William he thought lang;And he has ta'en King Honour's sonA-hunting for to gang.100It sae fell out, at this hunting,Upon a simmer's day,That they came by a bonny castell,Stood on a sunny brae."O dinna ye see that bonny castell,105Wi' halls and towers sae fair?Gin ilka man had back his ain,Of it you suld be heir.""How I suld be heir of that castell,In sooth, I canna see;110For it belangs to Fause Foodrage,And he is na kin to me."—"O gin ye suld kill him, Fause Foodrage,You would do but what was right;For I wot he kill'd your father dear,115Or ever ye saw the light."And gin ye suld kill him, Fause Foodrage,There is no man durst you blame;For he keeps your mother a prisoner,And she darna take ye hame."—120The boy stared wild like a gray goss-hawk,Says,—"What may a' this mean?""My boy, ye are King Honour's son,And your mother's our lawful queen.""O gin I be King Honour's son,125By our Ladye I swear,This night I will that traitor slay,And relieve my mother dear!"—He has set his bent bow to his breast,And leaped the castell wa';130And soon he has seized on Fause Foodrage,Wha loud for help 'gan ca'."O haud your tongue, now, Fause Foodrage,Frae me ye shanna flee;"—Syne pierced him through the fause, fause heart,135And set his mother free.And he has rewarded Wise WilliamWi' the best half o' his land;And sae has he the turtle dowWi' the truth o' his right hand.140
King Easter has courted her for her lands,King Wester for her fee,King Honour for her comely face,And for her fair bodie.
They had not been four months married,5As I have heard them tell,Until the nobles of the landAgainst them did rebel.
And they cast kevils them amang,And kevils them between;10And they cast kevils them amang,Wha suld gae kill the king.
O some said yea, and some said nay,Their words did not agree;Till up and got him, Fause Foodrage,15And swore it suld be he.
When bells were rung, and mass was sung,And a' men bound to bed,King Honour and his gay ladyeIn a high chamber were laid.20
Then up and raise him, Fause Foodrage,When a' were fast asleep,And slew the porter in his lodge,That watch and ward did keep.
O four and twenty silver keys25Hang hie upon a pin;And aye as ae door he did unlock,He has fasten'd it him behind.
Then up and raise him, King Honour,Says—"What means a' this din?30Or what's the matter, Fause Foodrage,Or wha has loot you in?"—
"O ye my errand weel sall learn,Before that I depart."—Then drew a knife, baith lang and sharp,35And pierced him to the heart.
Then up and got the Queen hersell,And fell low down on her knee,"O spare my life, now, Fause Foodrage!For I never injured thee.40
"O spare my life, now, Fause Foodrage!Until I lighter be!And see gin it be lad or lass,King Honour has left me wi'."—
"O gin it be a lass," he says,45"Weel nursed it sall be;But gin it be a lad bairn,He sall be hanged hie.
"I winna spare for his tender age,Nor yet for his hie, hie kin;50But soon as e'er he born is,He sall mount the gallows pin."—
O four-and-twenty valiant knightsWere set the Queen to guard;And four stood aye at her bour door,55To keep both watch and ward.
But when the time drew near an end,That she suld lighter be,She cast about to find a wile,To set her body free.60
O she has birled these merry young menWith the ale but and the wine,Until they were a' deadly drunkAs any wild-wood swine.
"O narrow, narrow is this window,65And big, big am I grown!"—Yet through the might of Our Ladye,Out at it she is gone.
She wander'd up, she wander'd down,She wander'd out and in;70And, at last, into the very swine's stythe,The Queen brought forth a son.
Then they cast kevils them amang,Which suld gae seek the Queen;And the kevil fell upon Wise William,75And he sent his wife for him.
O when she saw Wise William's wife,The Queen fell on her knee:"Win up, win up, madam!" she says:"What needs this courtesie?"—80
"O out o' this I winna rise,Till a boon ye grant to me;To change your lass for this lad bairn,King Honour left me wi'.
"And ye maun learn my gay goss-hawk85Right weel to breast a steed;And I sall learn your turtle dowAs weel to write and read.
"And ye maun learn my gay goss-hawkTo wield both bow and brand;90And I sall learn your turtle dowTo lay gowd wi' her hand.
"At kirk and market when we meet,We'll dare make nae avowe,But—'Dame, how does my gay goss-hawk?'95'Madame, how does my dow?'"
When days were gane, and years came on,Wise William he thought lang;And he has ta'en King Honour's sonA-hunting for to gang.100
It sae fell out, at this hunting,Upon a simmer's day,That they came by a bonny castell,Stood on a sunny brae.
"O dinna ye see that bonny castell,105Wi' halls and towers sae fair?Gin ilka man had back his ain,Of it you suld be heir."
"How I suld be heir of that castell,In sooth, I canna see;110For it belangs to Fause Foodrage,And he is na kin to me."—
"O gin ye suld kill him, Fause Foodrage,You would do but what was right;For I wot he kill'd your father dear,115Or ever ye saw the light.
"And gin ye suld kill him, Fause Foodrage,There is no man durst you blame;For he keeps your mother a prisoner,And she darna take ye hame."—120
The boy stared wild like a gray goss-hawk,Says,—"What may a' this mean?""My boy, ye are King Honour's son,And your mother's our lawful queen."
"O gin I be King Honour's son,125By our Ladye I swear,This night I will that traitor slay,And relieve my mother dear!"—
He has set his bent bow to his breast,And leaped the castell wa';130And soon he has seized on Fause Foodrage,Wha loud for help 'gan ca'.
"O haud your tongue, now, Fause Foodrage,Frae me ye shanna flee;"—Syne pierced him through the fause, fause heart,135And set his mother free.
And he has rewarded Wise WilliamWi' the best half o' his land;And sae has he the turtle dowWi' the truth o' his right hand.140
From Kinloch'sAncient Scottish Ballads, p. 123.
"There is a prevalent belief among seafaring people, that if a person who has committed any heinous crime be on ship-board, the vessel, as if conscious of its guilty burden, becomes unmanageable, and will not sail till the offender be removed: to discover whom, they usually resort to the trial of those on board, by casting lots; and the individual upon whom the lot falls, is declared the criminal, it being believed that Divine Providence interposes in this manner to point out the guilty person."—Kinloch.
Motherwell is inclined to think this an Irish ballad, though popular in Scotland.
With Bonnie Annie may be comparedJon Rimaardsöns Skriftemaal,Danske Viser, ii. 220; or,Herr Peders Sjöresa, Svenska Folk-Visor, ii. 31, Arwiddson, ii. 5 (translated inLiterature and Romance of Northern Europe, 276).