There was a rich lord, and he lived in Forfar,He had a fair lady, and one only dochter.O she was fair, O dear! she was bonnie,A ship's captain courted her to be his honey.There cam a ship's captain out owre the sea sailing,5He courted this young thing till he got her wi' bairn:—"Ye'll steal your father's gowd, and your mother's money,And I'll mak ye a lady in Ireland bonnie."She's stown her father's gowd and her mother's money,But she was never a lady in Ireland bonnie.10* * * * * * *"There's fey fowk in our ship, she winna sail for me,There's fey fowk in our ship, she winna sail for me."They've casten black bullets twice six and forty,And ae the black bullet fell on bonnie Annie."Ye'll tak me in your arms twa, lo, lift me cannie,15Throw me out owre board, your ain dear Annie."He has tane her in his arms twa, lo, lifted her cannie,He has laid her on a bed of down, his ain dear Annie."What can a woman do, love, I'll do for ye;""Muckle can a woman do, ye canna do for me.—Lay about, steer about, lay our ship cannie,21Do all you can to save my dear Annie.""I've laid about, steer'd about, laid about cannie,But all I can do, she winna sail for me.Ye'll tak her in your arms twa, lo, lift her cannie,25And throw her out owre board, your ain dear Annie."He has tane her in his arms twa, lo, lifted her cannie,He has thrown her out owre board, his ain dear Annie:As the ship sailed, bonnie Annie she swam,And she was at Ireland as soon as them.30They made his love a coffin of the gowd sae yellow,And they buried her deep on the high banks of Yarrow.
There was a rich lord, and he lived in Forfar,He had a fair lady, and one only dochter.O she was fair, O dear! she was bonnie,A ship's captain courted her to be his honey.
There cam a ship's captain out owre the sea sailing,5He courted this young thing till he got her wi' bairn:—"Ye'll steal your father's gowd, and your mother's money,And I'll mak ye a lady in Ireland bonnie."
She's stown her father's gowd and her mother's money,But she was never a lady in Ireland bonnie.10* * * * * * *
"There's fey fowk in our ship, she winna sail for me,There's fey fowk in our ship, she winna sail for me."They've casten black bullets twice six and forty,And ae the black bullet fell on bonnie Annie.
"Ye'll tak me in your arms twa, lo, lift me cannie,15Throw me out owre board, your ain dear Annie."He has tane her in his arms twa, lo, lifted her cannie,He has laid her on a bed of down, his ain dear Annie.
"What can a woman do, love, I'll do for ye;""Muckle can a woman do, ye canna do for me.—Lay about, steer about, lay our ship cannie,21Do all you can to save my dear Annie."
"I've laid about, steer'd about, laid about cannie,But all I can do, she winna sail for me.Ye'll tak her in your arms twa, lo, lift her cannie,25And throw her out owre board, your ain dear Annie."
He has tane her in his arms twa, lo, lifted her cannie,He has thrown her out owre board, his ain dear Annie:As the ship sailed, bonnie Annie she swam,And she was at Ireland as soon as them.30
They made his love a coffin of the gowd sae yellow,And they buried her deep on the high banks of Yarrow.
32. The last two lines are derived from Motherwell, p. xcix. The text in Kinloch is corrupt, and stands thus:—He made his love a coffin off the Goats of Yerrow,And buried his bonnie love doun in a sea valley.
32. The last two lines are derived from Motherwell, p. xcix. The text in Kinloch is corrupt, and stands thus:—
He made his love a coffin off the Goats of Yerrow,And buried his bonnie love doun in a sea valley.
He made his love a coffin off the Goats of Yerrow,And buried his bonnie love doun in a sea valley.
From Kinloch'sAncient Scottish Ballads, p. 156.
"My name is William Guiseman,In London I do dwell;I have committed murder,And that is known right well;I have committed murder,5And that is known right well,And it's for mine offence I must die."I lov'd a neighbour's dochter,And with her I did lie;I did dissemble with her10Myself to satisfy;I did dissemble with herMyself to satisfy,And it's for mine offence I must die."Sae cunningly's I kept her,15Until the fields war toom;Sae cunningly's I trysted herUnto yon shade o' broom;And syne I took my wills o' her,And then I flang her doun,20And it's for mine offence I must die."Sae cunningly's I killed her,Who should have been my wife;Sae cursedly's I killed her,And with my cursed knife;25Sae cursedly's I killed her,Who should have been my wife,And it's for mine offence I must die."Six days she lay in murder,Before that she was found;30Six days she lay in murder,Upon the cursed ground;Six days she lay in murder,Before that she was found,And it's for mine offence I must die.35"O all the neighbours round about,They said it had been I;I put my foot on gude shipboard,The county to defy;The ship she wadna sail again,40But hoisted to and fro,And it's for mine offence I must die."O up bespak the skipper-boy,I wat he spak too high;'There's sinful men amongst us,45The seas will not obey;'O up bespak the skipper-boy,I wat he spak too high,And it's for mine offence I must die."O we cuist cavels us amang,50The cavel fell on me;O we cuist cavels us amang,The cavel fell on me;O we cuist cavels us amang,The cavel fell on me,55And it's for mine offence I must die."I had a loving motherWho of me took gret care;She wad hae gien the gold sae red,To have bought me from that snare;60But the gold could not be granted,The gallows pays a share,And it's for mine offence I must die."
"My name is William Guiseman,In London I do dwell;I have committed murder,And that is known right well;I have committed murder,5And that is known right well,And it's for mine offence I must die.
"I lov'd a neighbour's dochter,And with her I did lie;I did dissemble with her10Myself to satisfy;I did dissemble with herMyself to satisfy,And it's for mine offence I must die.
"Sae cunningly's I kept her,15Until the fields war toom;Sae cunningly's I trysted herUnto yon shade o' broom;And syne I took my wills o' her,And then I flang her doun,20And it's for mine offence I must die.
"Sae cunningly's I killed her,Who should have been my wife;Sae cursedly's I killed her,And with my cursed knife;25Sae cursedly's I killed her,Who should have been my wife,And it's for mine offence I must die.
"Six days she lay in murder,Before that she was found;30Six days she lay in murder,Upon the cursed ground;Six days she lay in murder,Before that she was found,And it's for mine offence I must die.35
"O all the neighbours round about,They said it had been I;I put my foot on gude shipboard,The county to defy;The ship she wadna sail again,40But hoisted to and fro,And it's for mine offence I must die.
"O up bespak the skipper-boy,I wat he spak too high;'There's sinful men amongst us,45The seas will not obey;'O up bespak the skipper-boy,I wat he spak too high,And it's for mine offence I must die.
"O we cuist cavels us amang,50The cavel fell on me;O we cuist cavels us amang,The cavel fell on me;O we cuist cavels us amang,The cavel fell on me,55And it's for mine offence I must die.
"I had a loving motherWho of me took gret care;She wad hae gien the gold sae red,To have bought me from that snare;60But the gold could not be granted,The gallows pays a share,And it's for mine offence I must die."
Buchan'sBallads of the North of Scotland, i. 169. Annexed is a fragment published by Jamieson, under the title ofBonny Bee-Ho'm.
In Lauderdale I chanc'd to walk,And heard a lady's moan,Lamenting for her dearest dear,And aye she cried, ohon!"Sure never a maid that e'er drew breath5Had harder fate than me;I'd never a lad but one on earth,They forc'd him to the sea."The ale shall ne'er be brewin o' malt,Neither by sea nor land,10That ever mair shall cross my hause,Till my love comes to hand.A handsome lad wi' shoulders broad,Gold yellow was his hair;None of our Scottish youths on earth15That with him could compare.She thought her love was gone to sea,And landed in Bahome;But he was in a quiet chamber,Hearing his lady's moan.20"Why make ye all this moan, lady?Why make ye all this moan?For I'm deep sworn on a book,I must go to Bahome."Traitors false for to subdue,25O'er seas I'll make me boun',That have trepan'd our kind Scotchmen,Like dogs to ding them down.""Weell, take this ring, this royal thing,Whose virtue is unknown;30As lang's this ring's your body on,Your blood shall ne'er be drawn."But if this ring shall fade or stain,Or change to other hue,Come never mair to fair Scotland,35If ye're a lover true."Then this couple they did partWith a sad heavy moan;The wind was fair, the ship was rare,They landed in Bahome.40But in that place they had not beenA month but barely one,Tillhe look'don his gay gold ring,And riven was the stone.Time after this was not expir'd45A month but scarcely three,Till black and ugly was the ring,And the stonewas burst in three."Fight on, fight on, you merry men all,With you I'll fight no more;50I will gang to some holy place,Pray to the King of Glore."Then to the chapel he is gone,And knelt most piteouslie,For seven days and seven nights,55Till blood ran frae his knee."Ye'll take my jewels that's in Bahome,And deal them liberallie,To young that cannot, and old that mannot,The blind that does not see.60"Give maist to women in child-bed laid,Can neither fecht nor flee:I hope she's in the heavens high,That died for love of me."The knights they wrang their white fingers,65The ladies tore their hair;The women that ne'er had children born,In swoon they down fell there.But in what way the knight expir'd,No tongue will e'er declare;70So this doth end my mournful song,From me ye'll get nae mair.
In Lauderdale I chanc'd to walk,And heard a lady's moan,Lamenting for her dearest dear,And aye she cried, ohon!
"Sure never a maid that e'er drew breath5Had harder fate than me;I'd never a lad but one on earth,They forc'd him to the sea.
"The ale shall ne'er be brewin o' malt,Neither by sea nor land,10That ever mair shall cross my hause,Till my love comes to hand.
A handsome lad wi' shoulders broad,Gold yellow was his hair;None of our Scottish youths on earth15That with him could compare.
She thought her love was gone to sea,And landed in Bahome;But he was in a quiet chamber,Hearing his lady's moan.20
"Why make ye all this moan, lady?Why make ye all this moan?For I'm deep sworn on a book,I must go to Bahome.
"Traitors false for to subdue,25O'er seas I'll make me boun',That have trepan'd our kind Scotchmen,Like dogs to ding them down."
"Weell, take this ring, this royal thing,Whose virtue is unknown;30As lang's this ring's your body on,Your blood shall ne'er be drawn.
"But if this ring shall fade or stain,Or change to other hue,Come never mair to fair Scotland,35If ye're a lover true."
Then this couple they did partWith a sad heavy moan;The wind was fair, the ship was rare,They landed in Bahome.40
But in that place they had not beenA month but barely one,Tillhe look'don his gay gold ring,And riven was the stone.
Time after this was not expir'd45A month but scarcely three,Till black and ugly was the ring,And the stonewas burst in three.
"Fight on, fight on, you merry men all,With you I'll fight no more;50I will gang to some holy place,Pray to the King of Glore."
Then to the chapel he is gone,And knelt most piteouslie,For seven days and seven nights,55Till blood ran frae his knee.
"Ye'll take my jewels that's in Bahome,And deal them liberallie,To young that cannot, and old that mannot,The blind that does not see.60
"Give maist to women in child-bed laid,Can neither fecht nor flee:I hope she's in the heavens high,That died for love of me."
The knights they wrang their white fingers,65The ladies tore their hair;The women that ne'er had children born,In swoon they down fell there.
But in what way the knight expir'd,No tongue will e'er declare;70So this doth end my mournful song,From me ye'll get nae mair.
43, they look'd.48, And stone.
43, they look'd.
48, And stone.
Jamieson'sPopular Ballads, i. 184, from Mrs. Brown's MS., the interpolations of the editor being omitted.
By Arthur's dale as late I went,I heard a heavy moan;I heard a lady lamenting sair.And ay she cried "ohon!""Ohon, alas! what shall I do,5Tormented night and day?I never loved a love but ane,And now he's gone away."But I will do for my true loveWhat ladies would think sair;10For seven years shall come and gae,Ere a kaime gae in my hair."There shall neither a shoe gae on my foot,Nor a kaime gae in my hair,Nor ever a coal or candle light15Shine in my bower nae mair."She thought her love had been on sea,Fast sailing to Bee-Ho'm;But he was still in a quiet chamber,Hearing his lady's moan.20"Be hush'd, be hush'd, my lady dear,I pray thee moan not so;For I am deep sworn on a bookTo Bee-Ho'm for to go."She's gien him a chain o' the beaten goud,25And a ring with a ruby stone:"As lang as this chain your body binds,Your blood can never be drawn."But gin this ring should fade or fail,Or the stone should change its hue,30Be sure your love is dead and gone,Or she has proved untrue."* * * * * * *He had not been at bonny Bee-Ho'mA twelvemonth and a day,Till looking on his gay gold ring,35The stone grew dark and gray."O ye tak my riches to Bee-Ho'm,And deal them presentlie,To the young that canna, the old that manna,The blind that downa see."40Now Death has come intill his bower,And split his heart in twain:Sae their twa sauls flew up to heaven,And there shall ever remain.
By Arthur's dale as late I went,I heard a heavy moan;I heard a lady lamenting sair.And ay she cried "ohon!"
"Ohon, alas! what shall I do,5Tormented night and day?I never loved a love but ane,And now he's gone away.
"But I will do for my true loveWhat ladies would think sair;10For seven years shall come and gae,Ere a kaime gae in my hair.
"There shall neither a shoe gae on my foot,Nor a kaime gae in my hair,Nor ever a coal or candle light15Shine in my bower nae mair."
She thought her love had been on sea,Fast sailing to Bee-Ho'm;But he was still in a quiet chamber,Hearing his lady's moan.20
"Be hush'd, be hush'd, my lady dear,I pray thee moan not so;For I am deep sworn on a bookTo Bee-Ho'm for to go."
She's gien him a chain o' the beaten goud,25And a ring with a ruby stone:"As lang as this chain your body binds,Your blood can never be drawn.
"But gin this ring should fade or fail,Or the stone should change its hue,30Be sure your love is dead and gone,Or she has proved untrue."
* * * * * * *
He had not been at bonny Bee-Ho'mA twelvemonth and a day,Till looking on his gay gold ring,35The stone grew dark and gray.
"O ye tak my riches to Bee-Ho'm,And deal them presentlie,To the young that canna, the old that manna,The blind that downa see."40
Now Death has come intill his bower,And split his heart in twain:Sae their twa sauls flew up to heaven,And there shall ever remain.
From Ritson'sAncient English Songs, ii. 53. It is there reprinted from Ravenscroft'sMelismata, 1611.Another copy follows, taken from Scott'sMinstrelsy. Motherwell has recast the ballad in modern style, p. 7 of his collection.
There were three ravens sat on a tree,Downe, a downe, hay downe, hay downe,There were three ravens sat on a tree,With a downe,There were three ravens sat on a tree,They were as blacke as they might be,With a downe, derrie, derrie, derrie, downe, downe.The one of them said to his mate,"Where shall we our breakefast take?"—"Downe in yonder greene field,5There lies a knight slain under his shield."His hounds they lie downe at his feete,So well they their master keepe."His haukes they flie so eagerly,There's no fowle dare him com nie."10Downe there comes a fallow doe,As great with yong as she might goe.She lift up his bloudy hed,And kist his wounds that were so red.She got him up upon her backe,15And carried him to earthen lake.She buried him before the prime,She was dead herselfe ere even-song time.God send every gentleman,Such haukes, such houndes, and such a leman.20
There were three ravens sat on a tree,Downe, a downe, hay downe, hay downe,There were three ravens sat on a tree,With a downe,There were three ravens sat on a tree,They were as blacke as they might be,With a downe, derrie, derrie, derrie, downe, downe.
The one of them said to his mate,"Where shall we our breakefast take?"—
"Downe in yonder greene field,5There lies a knight slain under his shield.
"His hounds they lie downe at his feete,So well they their master keepe.
"His haukes they flie so eagerly,There's no fowle dare him com nie."10
Downe there comes a fallow doe,As great with yong as she might goe.
She lift up his bloudy hed,And kist his wounds that were so red.
She got him up upon her backe,15And carried him to earthen lake.
She buried him before the prime,She was dead herselfe ere even-song time.
God send every gentleman,Such haukes, such houndes, and such a leman.20
FromMinstrelsy of the Scottish Border, ii. 359. It was communicated to Scott by Mr. Sharpe, as written down, from tradition, by a lady.
As I was walking all alane,I heard twa corbies making a mane;The tane unto the t'other say,"Where sall we gang and dine to-day?"—"In behint yon auld fail dyke,5I wot there lies a new-slain knight;And naebody kens that he lies there,But his hawk, his hound, and lady fair."His hound is to the hunting gane,His hawk, to fetch the wild-fowl hame,10His lady's ta'en another mate,So we may mak our dinner sweet."Ye'll sit on his white hause-bane,And I'll pick out his bonny blue een:Wi' ae lock o' his gowden hair15We'll theek our nest when it grows bare."Mony a one for him makes mane,But nane sall ken where he is gane:O'er his white banes, when they are bare,The wind sall blaw for evermair."—20
As I was walking all alane,I heard twa corbies making a mane;The tane unto the t'other say,"Where sall we gang and dine to-day?"—
"In behint yon auld fail dyke,5I wot there lies a new-slain knight;And naebody kens that he lies there,But his hawk, his hound, and lady fair.
"His hound is to the hunting gane,His hawk, to fetch the wild-fowl hame,10His lady's ta'en another mate,So we may mak our dinner sweet.
"Ye'll sit on his white hause-bane,And I'll pick out his bonny blue een:Wi' ae lock o' his gowden hair15We'll theek our nest when it grows bare.
"Mony a one for him makes mane,But nane sall ken where he is gane:O'er his white banes, when they are bare,The wind sall blaw for evermair."—20
Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, iii. 143.
"This ballad, which is a very great favourite among the inhabitants of Ettrick Forest, is universally believed to be founded in fact. I found it easy to collect a variety of copies; but very difficult indeed to select from them such a collated edition as might, in any degree, suit the taste of 'these more light and giddy-paced times.'
"Tradition places the event, recorded in the song, very early; and it is probable that the ballad was composed soon afterwards, although the language has been gradually modernized, in the course of its transmission to us, through the inaccurate channel of oral tradition. The bard does not relate particulars, but barely the striking outlines of a fact, apparently so well known when he wrote, as to render minute detail as unnecessary as it is always tedious and unpoetical.
"The hero of the ballad was a knight of great bravery, called Scott, who is said to have resided at Kirkhope, or Oakwood Castle, and is, in tradition, termed the Baron of Oakwood. The estate of Kirkhope belonged anciently to the Scotts of Harden:Oakwood is still their property, and has been so from time immemorial. The Editor was, therefore, led to suppose that the hero of the ballad might have been identified with John Scott, sixth son of the Laird of Harden, murdered in Ettrick Forest by his kinsmen, the Scotts of Gilmanscleugh. (See notes toJamie Telfer.) This appeared the more probable, as the common people always affirm that this young man was treacherously slain, and that, in evidence thereof, his body remained uncorrupted for many years; so that even the roses on his shoes seemed as fresh as when he was first laid in the family vault at Hassendean. But from a passage in Nisbet's Heraldry, he now believes the ballad refers to a duel fought at Deucharswyre, of which Annan's Treat is a part, betwixt John Scott of Tushielaw and his brother-in-law, Walter Scott, third son of Robert of Thirlestane, in which the latter was slain.
"In ploughing Annan's Treat, a huge monumental stone, with an inscription, was discovered; but being rather scratched than engraved, and the lines being run through each other, it is only possible to read one or two Latin words. It probably records the event of the combat. The person slain was the male ancestor of the present Lord Napier.
"Tradition affirms, that the hero of the song (be he who he may) was murdered by the brother, either of his wife or betrothed bride. The alleged cause of malice was the lady's father having proposed to endow her with half of his property, upon her marriage with a warrior of such renown. The name of the murderer is said to have been Annan, and the place of combat is still called Annan's Treat. It is a low muir, on thebanks of the Yarrow, lying to the west of Yarrow Kirk. Two tall unhewn masses of stone are erected, about eighty yards distant from each other; and the least child, that can herd a cow, will tell the passenger, that there lie 'the two lords, who were slain in single combat.'
"It will be, with many readers, the greatest recommendation of these verses, that they are supposed to have suggested to Mr. Hamilton of Bangour, the modern ballad, beginning,
'Busk ye, busk ye, my bonny bonny bride.'
'Busk ye, busk ye, my bonny bonny bride.'
"A fragment, apparently regarding the story of the following ballad, but in a different measure, occurs in Mr. Herd's MS., and runs thus:—
'When I look east, my heart is sair,But when I look west, it's mair and mair;For then I see the braes o' Yarrow,And there, for aye, I lost my marrow.'"
'When I look east, my heart is sair,But when I look west, it's mair and mair;For then I see the braes o' Yarrow,And there, for aye, I lost my marrow.'"
We have added an uncollated copy from Buchan'sBallads of the North of Scotland. Another is furnished by Motherwell,Minstrelsy, p. 252. Some of Scott's verses are also found in Herd's fragment, (Scottish Songs, i. 202,) and Buchan'sHaughs o' Yarrow, ii. 211.The Dowy Den, in Evans's collection, iii. 342, is thecaput mortuumof this spirited ballad.
Late at e'en, drinking the wine,And ere they paid the lawing,They set a combat them between,To fight it in the dawing."O stay at hame, my noble lord,5O stay at hame, my marrow!My cruel brother will you betrayOn the dowie houms of Yarrow."—"O fare ye weel, my ladye gaye!O fare ye weel, my Sarah!10For I maun gae, though I ne'er returnFrae the dowie banks o' Yarrow."She kiss'd his cheek, she kaim'd his hair,As oft she had done before, O;She belted him with his noble brand,15And he's away to Yarrow.As he gaed upthe Tenniesbank,I wot he gaed wi' sorrow,Till, down in a den, he spied nine arm'd men,On the dowie houms of Yarrow.20"O come ye here to part your land,The bonnie Forest thorough?Or come ye here to wield your brand,On the dowie houms of Yarrow?"—"I come not here to part my land,25And neither to beg nor borrow;I come to wield my noble brand,On the bonnie banks of Yarrow."If I see all, ye're nine to ane;And that's an unequal marrow;30Yet will I fight, while lasts my brand,On the bonnie banks of Yarrow."Four has he hurt, and five has slain,On the bloody braes of Yarrow,Till that stubborn knight came him behind,35And ran his body thorough."Gae hame, gae hame, good-brother John,And tell your sister Sarah,To come and lift her leafu' lord;He's sleepin sound on Yarrow."—40"Yestreen I dream'd a dolefu' dream;I fear there will be sorrow!I dream'd I pu'd the heather green,Wi' my true love, on Yarrow."O gentle wind, that bloweth south,45From where my love repaireth,Convey a kiss from his dear mouth,And tell me how he fareth!"But in the glen strive armed men;They've wrought me dole and sorrow;50They've slain—the comeliest knight they've slain—He bleeding lies on Yarrow."As she sped down yon high high hill,She gaed wi' dole and sorrow,And in the den spied ten slain men,55On the dowie banks of Yarrow.She kissed his cheek, she kaim'd his hair,She searched his wounds all thorough,She kiss'd them, till her lips grew red,On the dowie houms of Yarrow.60"Now haud your tongue, my daughter dear!For a' this breeds but sorrow;I'll wed ye to a better lord,Than him ye lost on Yarrow."—"O haud your tongue, my father dear!65Ye mind me but of sorrow;A fairer rose did never bloomThan now lies cropp'd on Yarrow."
Late at e'en, drinking the wine,And ere they paid the lawing,They set a combat them between,To fight it in the dawing.
"O stay at hame, my noble lord,5O stay at hame, my marrow!My cruel brother will you betrayOn the dowie houms of Yarrow."—
"O fare ye weel, my ladye gaye!O fare ye weel, my Sarah!10For I maun gae, though I ne'er returnFrae the dowie banks o' Yarrow."
She kiss'd his cheek, she kaim'd his hair,As oft she had done before, O;She belted him with his noble brand,15And he's away to Yarrow.
As he gaed upthe Tenniesbank,I wot he gaed wi' sorrow,Till, down in a den, he spied nine arm'd men,On the dowie houms of Yarrow.20
"O come ye here to part your land,The bonnie Forest thorough?Or come ye here to wield your brand,On the dowie houms of Yarrow?"—
"I come not here to part my land,25And neither to beg nor borrow;I come to wield my noble brand,On the bonnie banks of Yarrow.
"If I see all, ye're nine to ane;And that's an unequal marrow;30Yet will I fight, while lasts my brand,On the bonnie banks of Yarrow."
Four has he hurt, and five has slain,On the bloody braes of Yarrow,Till that stubborn knight came him behind,35And ran his body thorough.
"Gae hame, gae hame, good-brother John,And tell your sister Sarah,To come and lift her leafu' lord;He's sleepin sound on Yarrow."—40
"Yestreen I dream'd a dolefu' dream;I fear there will be sorrow!I dream'd I pu'd the heather green,Wi' my true love, on Yarrow.
"O gentle wind, that bloweth south,45From where my love repaireth,Convey a kiss from his dear mouth,And tell me how he fareth!
"But in the glen strive armed men;They've wrought me dole and sorrow;50They've slain—the comeliest knight they've slain—He bleeding lies on Yarrow."
As she sped down yon high high hill,She gaed wi' dole and sorrow,And in the den spied ten slain men,55On the dowie banks of Yarrow.
She kissed his cheek, she kaim'd his hair,She searched his wounds all thorough,She kiss'd them, till her lips grew red,On the dowie houms of Yarrow.60
"Now haud your tongue, my daughter dear!For a' this breeds but sorrow;I'll wed ye to a better lord,Than him ye lost on Yarrow."—
"O haud your tongue, my father dear!65Ye mind me but of sorrow;A fairer rose did never bloomThan now lies cropp'd on Yarrow."
17.The Tenniesis the name of a farm of the Duke of Buccleuch's, a little below Yarrow Kirk.
17.The Tenniesis the name of a farm of the Duke of Buccleuch's, a little below Yarrow Kirk.
From Buchan'sBallads of the North of Scotland, ii. 203. Repeated in the xviith volume of the Percy Society Publications.
Ten lords sat drinking at the wine,Intill a morning early;There fell a combat them among,It must be fought,—nae parly."O stay at hame, my ain gude lord,5O stay, my ain dear marrow.""Sweetest min', I will be thine,And dine wi' you to-morrow."She's kiss'd his lips, and comb'd his hair,As she had done before, O;10Gied him a brand down by his side,And he is on to Yarrow.As he gaed ower yon dowie knowe,As aft he'd dune before, O;Nine armed men lay in a den,15Upo' the braes o' Yarrow."O came ye here to hunt or hawk,As ye hae dune before, O?Or came ye here to wiel' your brand,Upo' the braes o' Yarrow?"20"I came na here to hunt nor hawk,As I hae dune before, O;But I came here to wiel' my brand,Upon the braes o' Yarrow."Four he hurt, and five he slew,25Till down it fell himsell, O;There stood a fause lord him behin',Who thrust him thro' body and mell, O."Gae hame, gae hame, my brother John,And tell your sister sorrow;30Your mother to come take up her son,Aff o' the braes o' Yarrow."As he gaed ower yon high, high hill,As he had dune before, O;There he met his sister dear,35Came rinnin fast to Yarrow."I dreamt a dream last night," she says,"I wish it binna sorrow;I dreamt I was pu'ing the heather green,Upo' the braes o' Yarrow."40"I'll read your dream, sister," he says,"I'll read it into sorrow;Ye're bidden gae take up your love,He's sleeping sound on Yarrow."She's torn the ribbons frae her head,45They were baith thick and narrow;She's kilted up her green claithing,And she's awa' to Yarrow.She's taen him in her arms twa,And gien him kisses thorough,50And wi' her tears she bath'd his wounds,Upo' the braes o' Yarrow.Her father looking ower his castle wa',Beheld his daughter's sorrow;"O had your tongue, daughter," he says,55"And let be a' your sorrow,I'll wed you wi' a better lord,Than he that died on Yarrow.""O had your tongue, father," she says,"And let be till to-morrow;60A better lord there cou'dna beThan he that died on Yarrow."She kiss'd his lips, and comb'd his hair,As she had dune before, O;Then wi' a crack her heart did brack,65Upon the braes o' Yarrow.
Ten lords sat drinking at the wine,Intill a morning early;There fell a combat them among,It must be fought,—nae parly.
"O stay at hame, my ain gude lord,5O stay, my ain dear marrow.""Sweetest min', I will be thine,And dine wi' you to-morrow."
She's kiss'd his lips, and comb'd his hair,As she had done before, O;10Gied him a brand down by his side,And he is on to Yarrow.
As he gaed ower yon dowie knowe,As aft he'd dune before, O;Nine armed men lay in a den,15Upo' the braes o' Yarrow.
"O came ye here to hunt or hawk,As ye hae dune before, O?Or came ye here to wiel' your brand,Upo' the braes o' Yarrow?"20
"I came na here to hunt nor hawk,As I hae dune before, O;But I came here to wiel' my brand,Upon the braes o' Yarrow."
Four he hurt, and five he slew,25Till down it fell himsell, O;There stood a fause lord him behin',Who thrust him thro' body and mell, O.
"Gae hame, gae hame, my brother John,And tell your sister sorrow;30Your mother to come take up her son,Aff o' the braes o' Yarrow."
As he gaed ower yon high, high hill,As he had dune before, O;There he met his sister dear,35Came rinnin fast to Yarrow.
"I dreamt a dream last night," she says,"I wish it binna sorrow;I dreamt I was pu'ing the heather green,Upo' the braes o' Yarrow."40
"I'll read your dream, sister," he says,"I'll read it into sorrow;Ye're bidden gae take up your love,He's sleeping sound on Yarrow."
She's torn the ribbons frae her head,45They were baith thick and narrow;She's kilted up her green claithing,And she's awa' to Yarrow.
She's taen him in her arms twa,And gien him kisses thorough,50And wi' her tears she bath'd his wounds,Upo' the braes o' Yarrow.
Her father looking ower his castle wa',Beheld his daughter's sorrow;"O had your tongue, daughter," he says,55"And let be a' your sorrow,I'll wed you wi' a better lord,Than he that died on Yarrow."
"O had your tongue, father," she says,"And let be till to-morrow;60A better lord there cou'dna beThan he that died on Yarrow."
She kiss'd his lips, and comb'd his hair,As she had dune before, O;Then wi' a crack her heart did brack,65Upon the braes o' Yarrow.
39. To dream of any thing green is regarded in Scotland as unlucky.
39. To dream of any thing green is regarded in Scotland as unlucky.
Pinkerton first published this piece in hisScottish Tragic Ballads, p. 61. In a note, it is said to have been taken "from a modern edition in one sheet, 12mo. after the old copy." Motherwell gives another version "as it occurs in early stall prints," (Minstrelsy, p. 321,) and suspects a few conjectural emendations in Pinkerton's text. The passage from v. 51 to v. 59 is apparently defective, and has, probably, been tampered with; but Pinkerton's copy is on the whole much better than Motherwell's, or than Whitelaw's, (Scottish Ballads, 39,) which professes to be given chiefly from oral recitations.
Michael Bruce'sSir James the Rosewill be found in another part of this collection. In Caw'sMuseum(p. 290) is a ballad in the worst possible taste, styledElfrida and Sir James of Perth, which seems to be a mere disfiguration of Bruce's.
O heard ye o' Sir James the Rose,The young heir o' Buleighan?For he has kill'd a gallant squire,Whase friends are out to tak him.Now he has gane to the house o' Mar,5Whar nane might seik to find him;To see his dear he did repair,Weining she wold befreind him."Whar are ye gaing Sir James," she said,"O whar awa are ye riding?"10"I maun be bound to a foreign land,And now I'm under hiding."Whar sall I gae, whar sall I rin,Whar sall I rin to lay me?For I ha kill'd a gallant squire,15And his friends seik to slay me.""O gae ye down to yon laigh house,I sall pay there your lawing;And as I am your leman trew,I'll meet ye at the dawing."20He turned him richt and round about,And rowd him in his brechan:And laid him doun to tak a sleip,In the lawlands o' Buleighan.He was nae weil gane out o' sicht,25Nor was he past Milstrethen,Whan four and twenty belted knichtsCam riding owr the Leathen."O ha ye seen Sir James the Rose,The young heir o' Buleighan?30For he has kill'd a gallant squire,And we are sent to tak him.""Yea, I ha seen Sir James," she said,"He past by here on Monday;Gin the steed be swift that he rides on,35He's past the Hichts of Lundie."But as wi speid they rade awa,She leudly cryd behind them;"Gin ye'll gie me a worthy meid,I'll tell ye whar to find him."40"O tell fair maid, and on our band,Ye'se get his purse and brechan.""He's in the bank aboon the mill,In the lawlands o' Buleighan."Than out and spak Sir John the Graham,45Who had the charge a keiping,"It's neer be said, my stalwart feres,We kill'd him whan a sleiping."They seized his braid sword and his targe,And closely him surrounded:50"O pardon! mercy! gentlemen,"He then fou loudly sounded."Sic as ye gae, sic ye sall hae,Nae grace we shaw to thee can.""Donald my man, wait till I fa,55And ye sall hae my brechan;Ye'll get my purse thouch fou o' gowdTo tak me to Loch Lagan."Syne they take out his bleiding heart,And set it on a speir;60Then tuke it to the house o' Mar,And shawd it to his deir."We cold nae gie Sir James's purse,We cold nae gie his brechan;But ye sall ha his bleeding heart,65Bot and his bleeding tartan.""Sir James the Rose, O for thy sakeMy heart is now a breaking,Curs'd be the day I wrocht thy wae,Thou brave heir of Buleighan!"70Then up she raise, and furth she gaes,And, in that hour o' tein,She wanderd to the dowie glen,And nevir mair was sein.
O heard ye o' Sir James the Rose,The young heir o' Buleighan?For he has kill'd a gallant squire,Whase friends are out to tak him.
Now he has gane to the house o' Mar,5Whar nane might seik to find him;To see his dear he did repair,Weining she wold befreind him.
"Whar are ye gaing Sir James," she said,"O whar awa are ye riding?"10"I maun be bound to a foreign land,And now I'm under hiding.
"Whar sall I gae, whar sall I rin,Whar sall I rin to lay me?For I ha kill'd a gallant squire,15And his friends seik to slay me."
"O gae ye down to yon laigh house,I sall pay there your lawing;And as I am your leman trew,I'll meet ye at the dawing."20
He turned him richt and round about,And rowd him in his brechan:And laid him doun to tak a sleip,In the lawlands o' Buleighan.
He was nae weil gane out o' sicht,25Nor was he past Milstrethen,Whan four and twenty belted knichtsCam riding owr the Leathen.
"O ha ye seen Sir James the Rose,The young heir o' Buleighan?30For he has kill'd a gallant squire,And we are sent to tak him."
"Yea, I ha seen Sir James," she said,"He past by here on Monday;Gin the steed be swift that he rides on,35He's past the Hichts of Lundie."
But as wi speid they rade awa,She leudly cryd behind them;"Gin ye'll gie me a worthy meid,I'll tell ye whar to find him."40
"O tell fair maid, and on our band,Ye'se get his purse and brechan.""He's in the bank aboon the mill,In the lawlands o' Buleighan."
Than out and spak Sir John the Graham,45Who had the charge a keiping,"It's neer be said, my stalwart feres,We kill'd him whan a sleiping."
They seized his braid sword and his targe,And closely him surrounded:50"O pardon! mercy! gentlemen,"He then fou loudly sounded.
"Sic as ye gae, sic ye sall hae,Nae grace we shaw to thee can.""Donald my man, wait till I fa,55And ye sall hae my brechan;Ye'll get my purse thouch fou o' gowdTo tak me to Loch Lagan."
Syne they take out his bleiding heart,And set it on a speir;60Then tuke it to the house o' Mar,And shawd it to his deir.
"We cold nae gie Sir James's purse,We cold nae gie his brechan;But ye sall ha his bleeding heart,65Bot and his bleeding tartan."
"Sir James the Rose, O for thy sakeMy heart is now a breaking,Curs'd be the day I wrocht thy wae,Thou brave heir of Buleighan!"70
Then up she raise, and furth she gaes,And, in that hour o' tein,She wanderd to the dowie glen,And nevir mair was sein.
FromMinstrelsy of the Scottish Border, iii. 69. A single improved reading is adopted from a Newcastle chap-book.
"Given, in the first edition, from the recitation of a gentleman, who professed to have forgotten some verses. These have, in the present edition, been partly restored, from a copy obtained by the recitation of an ostler in Carlisle, which has also furnished some slight alterations."
"The ballad is remarkable, as containing, probably, the very latest allusion to the institution of brotherhood in arms, which was held so sacred in the days of chivalry, and whose origin may be traced up to the Scythian ancestors of Odin."Scott.