65, And the.66, And there. See 133, 134.
65, And the.
66, And there. See 133, 134.
From Buchan'sBallads of the North of Scotland, i. p. 15.
It fell about the gude Yule time,When caps and stoups gaed roun',Down it came him young Waters,To welcome James, our king.The great, the great, rade a' together,5The sma' came a' behin';But wi' young Waters, that brave knight,There came a gay gatherin'.The horse young Waters rade upon,It cost him hunders nine;10For he was siller shod before,And gowd graith had behin'.At ilka tippit o' his horse maneThere hang a siller bell;The wind was loud, the steed was proud,15And they gae a sindry knell.The king he lay ower's castle wa',Beheld baith dale and down;And he beheld him, young Waters,Come riding to the town.20He turn'd him right and round about,And to the queen said he,—"Who is the bravest man, my dame,That ever your een did see?""I've seen lairds, and I've seen lords,25And knights o' high degree;But a braver man than young WatersMy e'en did never see."He turn'd him right and roun' about,And ane angry man was he;30"O wae to you, my dame, the queen;Ye might ha'e excepted me!""Ye are nae laird, ye are nae lord,Ye are the king that wears the crown;There's nae a lord in fair Scotland,35But unto you maun a' bow down.""O lady, for your love choicing,Ye shall win to your will;The morn, or I eat or drink,Young Waters I'll gar kill."40And nevertheless, the king cou'd say,"Ye might ha'e excepted me;Yea for yea," the king cou'd say,"Young Waters he shall die."Likewise for your ill-wyled words45Ye sall ha'e cause to mourn;Gin ye hadna been sae big wi' child,Ye on a hill su'd burn."Young Waters came before the King,Fell low down on his knee;50"Win up, win up, young Waters,What's this I hear o' thee?""What ails the king at me," he said,"What ails the king at me?""It is tauld me the day, sir knight,55Ye've done me treasonie.""Liars will lie on sell gude men,Sae will they do on me;I wudna wish to be the manThat liars on wudna lie."60Nevertheless, the king cou'd say,"In prison strang gang ye;O yea for yea," the king cou'd say,"Young Waters, ye shall die."Syne they ha'e ta'en him, young Waters,65Laid him in prison strang,And left him there wi' fetters boun',Making a heavy mane."Aft ha'e I ridden thro' Striveling townThro' heavy wind and weet;70But ne'er rade I thro' Striveling townWi' fetters on my feet."Aft ha'e I ridden thro' Striveling town,Thro' heavy wind and rain;But ne'er rade I thro' Striveling town75But thought to ridden't again."They brought him to the heading-hill,His horse, bot and his saddle;And they brought to the heading-hillHis young son in his cradle.80And they brought to the heading-hill,His hounds intill a leish;And they brought till the heading-hill,His gos-hawk in a jess.King James he then rade up the hill,85And mony a man him wi',And called on his trusty page,To come right speedilie."Ye'll do' ye to the Earl o' Mar,For he sits on yon hill;90Bid him loose the brand frae his bodie,Young Waters for to kill.""O gude forbid," the Earl he said,"The like su'd e'er fa' me,My bodie e'er su'd wear the brand95That gars young Waters die."Then he has loos'd his trusty brand,And casten't in the sea;Says, "Never lat them get a brand,Till it come back to me."100The scaffold it prepared was,And he did mount it hie;And a' spectators that were there,The saut tears blint their e'e."O had your tongues, my brethren dear,105And mourn nae mair for me;Ye're seeking grace frae a graceless face,For there is nane to gie."Ye'll tak' a bit o' canvas claith,And pit it ower my ee;110And Jack, my man, ye'll be at hand,The hour that I su'd die."Syne aff ye'll tak' my bluidy sark,Gie it fair Margaret Grahame;For she may curse the dowie dell115That brought King James him hame."Ye'll bid her mak' her bed narrow,And mak' it naeways wide;For a brawer man than young WatersWill ne'er streek by her side.120"Bid her do weel to my young son,And gie him nurses three;For gin he live to be a man,King James will gar him die."He call'd upon the headsman then,125A purse o' gowd him gae;Says, "Do your office, headsman, boy,And mak' nae mair delay.""O head me soon, O head me clean,And pit me out o' pine;130For it is by the king's command;Gang head me till his min'."Tho' by him I'm condemn'd to die,I'm lieve to his ain kin;And for the truth, I'll plainly tell,135I am his sister's son.""Gin ye're my sister's son," he said,"It is unkent to me.""O mindna ye on your sister Bess,That lives in the French countrie?"140"Gin Bess then be your mither dear,As I trust well she be,Gae hame, gae hame, young Waters,Ye'se ne'er be slain by me."But he lay by his napkin fine,145Was saft as ony silk,And on the block he laid his neck,Was whiter than the milk.Says, "Strike the blow, ye headsman, boy,And that right speedilie;150It's never be said here gaes a knight,Was ance condemn'd to die."The head was ta'en frae young Waters,And mony tears for him shed;But mair did mourn for fair Margaret,155As raving she lyes mad.
It fell about the gude Yule time,When caps and stoups gaed roun',Down it came him young Waters,To welcome James, our king.
The great, the great, rade a' together,5The sma' came a' behin';But wi' young Waters, that brave knight,There came a gay gatherin'.
The horse young Waters rade upon,It cost him hunders nine;10For he was siller shod before,And gowd graith had behin'.
At ilka tippit o' his horse maneThere hang a siller bell;The wind was loud, the steed was proud,15And they gae a sindry knell.
The king he lay ower's castle wa',Beheld baith dale and down;And he beheld him, young Waters,Come riding to the town.20
He turn'd him right and round about,And to the queen said he,—"Who is the bravest man, my dame,That ever your een did see?"
"I've seen lairds, and I've seen lords,25And knights o' high degree;But a braver man than young WatersMy e'en did never see."
He turn'd him right and roun' about,And ane angry man was he;30"O wae to you, my dame, the queen;Ye might ha'e excepted me!"
"Ye are nae laird, ye are nae lord,Ye are the king that wears the crown;There's nae a lord in fair Scotland,35But unto you maun a' bow down."
"O lady, for your love choicing,Ye shall win to your will;The morn, or I eat or drink,Young Waters I'll gar kill."40
And nevertheless, the king cou'd say,"Ye might ha'e excepted me;Yea for yea," the king cou'd say,"Young Waters he shall die.
"Likewise for your ill-wyled words45Ye sall ha'e cause to mourn;Gin ye hadna been sae big wi' child,Ye on a hill su'd burn."
Young Waters came before the King,Fell low down on his knee;50"Win up, win up, young Waters,What's this I hear o' thee?"
"What ails the king at me," he said,"What ails the king at me?""It is tauld me the day, sir knight,55Ye've done me treasonie."
"Liars will lie on sell gude men,Sae will they do on me;I wudna wish to be the manThat liars on wudna lie."60
Nevertheless, the king cou'd say,"In prison strang gang ye;O yea for yea," the king cou'd say,"Young Waters, ye shall die."
Syne they ha'e ta'en him, young Waters,65Laid him in prison strang,And left him there wi' fetters boun',Making a heavy mane.
"Aft ha'e I ridden thro' Striveling townThro' heavy wind and weet;70But ne'er rade I thro' Striveling townWi' fetters on my feet.
"Aft ha'e I ridden thro' Striveling town,Thro' heavy wind and rain;But ne'er rade I thro' Striveling town75But thought to ridden't again."
They brought him to the heading-hill,His horse, bot and his saddle;And they brought to the heading-hillHis young son in his cradle.80
And they brought to the heading-hill,His hounds intill a leish;And they brought till the heading-hill,His gos-hawk in a jess.
King James he then rade up the hill,85And mony a man him wi',And called on his trusty page,To come right speedilie.
"Ye'll do' ye to the Earl o' Mar,For he sits on yon hill;90Bid him loose the brand frae his bodie,Young Waters for to kill."
"O gude forbid," the Earl he said,"The like su'd e'er fa' me,My bodie e'er su'd wear the brand95That gars young Waters die."
Then he has loos'd his trusty brand,And casten't in the sea;Says, "Never lat them get a brand,Till it come back to me."100
The scaffold it prepared was,And he did mount it hie;And a' spectators that were there,The saut tears blint their e'e.
"O had your tongues, my brethren dear,105And mourn nae mair for me;Ye're seeking grace frae a graceless face,For there is nane to gie.
"Ye'll tak' a bit o' canvas claith,And pit it ower my ee;110And Jack, my man, ye'll be at hand,The hour that I su'd die.
"Syne aff ye'll tak' my bluidy sark,Gie it fair Margaret Grahame;For she may curse the dowie dell115That brought King James him hame.
"Ye'll bid her mak' her bed narrow,And mak' it naeways wide;For a brawer man than young WatersWill ne'er streek by her side.120
"Bid her do weel to my young son,And gie him nurses three;For gin he live to be a man,King James will gar him die."
He call'd upon the headsman then,125A purse o' gowd him gae;Says, "Do your office, headsman, boy,And mak' nae mair delay."
"O head me soon, O head me clean,And pit me out o' pine;130For it is by the king's command;Gang head me till his min'.
"Tho' by him I'm condemn'd to die,I'm lieve to his ain kin;And for the truth, I'll plainly tell,135I am his sister's son."
"Gin ye're my sister's son," he said,"It is unkent to me.""O mindna ye on your sister Bess,That lives in the French countrie?"140
"Gin Bess then be your mither dear,As I trust well she be,Gae hame, gae hame, young Waters,Ye'se ne'er be slain by me."
But he lay by his napkin fine,145Was saft as ony silk,And on the block he laid his neck,Was whiter than the milk.
Says, "Strike the blow, ye headsman, boy,And that right speedilie;150It's never be said here gaes a knight,Was ance condemn'd to die."
The head was ta'en frae young Waters,And mony tears for him shed;But mair did mourn for fair Margaret,155As raving she lyes mad.
Finlay'sScottish Ballads, ii. 47.
Lammikin was as gude a masonAs ever hewed a stane;He biggit Lord Weire's castle,But payment gat he nane."Sen ye winna gie me my guerdon, lord,5Sen ye winna gie me my hire,This gude castle, sae stately built,I sall gar rock wi' fire."Sen ye winna gie me my wages, lord,Ye sall hae cause to rue:"10And syne he brewed a black revenge,And syne he vowed a vow.The Lammikin sair wroth, sair wroth,Returned again to Downe;But or he gaed, he vow'd and vow'd,15The castle should sweep the ground."O byde at hame, my gude Lord Weire,I weird ye byde at hame;Gang na to this day's hunting,To leave me a' alane.20"Yae night, yae night, I dreamt this bowerO red, red blude was fu';Gin ye gang to this black hunting,I sall hae cause to rue.""Wha looks to dreams, my winsome dame?25Nae cause hae ye to fear:"And syne he kindly kissed her cheek,And syne the starting tear.Now to the gude green-wood he's gane,She to her painted bower;30But first she closed the windows and doorsOf the castle, ha', and tower.They steeked doors, they steeked yetts,Close to the cheek and chin;They steeked them a' but a wee wicket,35And Lammikin crap in."Where are the lads o' this castle?"Says the Lammikin;"They are a' wi Lord Weire, hunting,"The false nourice did sing.40"Where are the lasses o' this castle?"Says the Lammikin;"They are a' out at the washing,"The false nourice did sing."But where's the lady o' this castle?"45Says the Lammikin;"She is in her bower sewing,"The false nourice did sing."Is this the bairn o' this house?"Says the Lammikin;50"The only bairn Lord Weire aughts,"The false nourice did sing.Lammikin nipped the bonnie babe,While loud false nourice sings;Lammikin nipped the bonnie babe,55Till high the red blude springs."Still my bairn, nourice,O still him if ye can:""He will not still, madam,For a' his father's lan'."60"O gentle nourice, still my bairn,O still him wi' the keys:""He will not still, fair lady,Let me do what I please.""O still my bairn, kind nourice,65O still him wi' the ring:""He will not still, my lady,Let me do any thing.""O still my bairn, gude nourice,O still him wi' the knife:"70"He will not still, dear mistress mine,Gin I'd lay down my life.""Sweet nourice, loud, loud cries my bairn,O still him wi' the bell:""He will not still, dear lady,75Till ye cum down yoursell."The first step she stepped,She stepped on a stane,The next step she stepped,She met the Lammikin.80And when she saw the red, red blude,A loud skriech skrieched she:"O monster, monster, spare my child,Who never skaithed thee!"O spare, if in your bluidy breast85Abides not heart of stane!O spare, an' ye sall hae o' goldThat ye can carry hame!""I carena for your gold," he said,"I carena for your fee:90I hae been wranged by your lord,Black vengeance ye sall drie."Here are nae serfs to guard your haa's,Nae trusty spearmen here;In yon green wood they sound the horn,95And chace the doe and deer."Tho merry sounds the gude green woodWi' huntsmen, hounds, and horn,Your lord sall rue ere sets yon sunHe has done me skaith and scorn."100"O nourice, wanted ye your meat,Or wanted ye your fee,Or wanted ye for any thing,A fair lady could gie?""I wanted for nae meat, ladie,105I wanted for nae fee;But I wanted for a hantleA fair lady could gie."Then Lammikin drew his red, red sword,And sharped it on a stane,110And through and through this fair ladie,The cauld, cauld steel is gane.Nor lang was't after this foul deed,Till Lord Weire cumin' hame,Thocht he saw his sweet bairn's bluid115Sprinkled on a stane."I wish a' may be weel," he says,"Wi' my ladie at hame;For the rings upon my fingersAre bursting in twain."120But mair he look'd, and dule saw he,On the door at the trance,Spots o' his dear ladys bluidShining like a lance."There's bluid in my nursery,125There's bluid in my ha',There's bluid in my fair lady's bower,An' that's warst of a'."O sweet, sweet sang the birdie,Upon the bough sae hie,130But little cared false nourice for that,For it was her gallows tree.Then out he set, and his braw menRode a' the country roun';Ere lang they faud the Lammikin135Had sheltered near to Downe.They carried him a' airts o' wind,And mickle pain had he,At last before Lord Weire's gateThey hanged him on the tree.140
Lammikin was as gude a masonAs ever hewed a stane;He biggit Lord Weire's castle,But payment gat he nane.
"Sen ye winna gie me my guerdon, lord,5Sen ye winna gie me my hire,This gude castle, sae stately built,I sall gar rock wi' fire.
"Sen ye winna gie me my wages, lord,Ye sall hae cause to rue:"10And syne he brewed a black revenge,And syne he vowed a vow.
The Lammikin sair wroth, sair wroth,Returned again to Downe;But or he gaed, he vow'd and vow'd,15The castle should sweep the ground.
"O byde at hame, my gude Lord Weire,I weird ye byde at hame;Gang na to this day's hunting,To leave me a' alane.20
"Yae night, yae night, I dreamt this bowerO red, red blude was fu';Gin ye gang to this black hunting,I sall hae cause to rue."
"Wha looks to dreams, my winsome dame?25Nae cause hae ye to fear:"And syne he kindly kissed her cheek,And syne the starting tear.
Now to the gude green-wood he's gane,She to her painted bower;30But first she closed the windows and doorsOf the castle, ha', and tower.
They steeked doors, they steeked yetts,Close to the cheek and chin;They steeked them a' but a wee wicket,35And Lammikin crap in.
"Where are the lads o' this castle?"Says the Lammikin;"They are a' wi Lord Weire, hunting,"The false nourice did sing.40
"Where are the lasses o' this castle?"Says the Lammikin;"They are a' out at the washing,"The false nourice did sing.
"But where's the lady o' this castle?"45Says the Lammikin;"She is in her bower sewing,"The false nourice did sing.
"Is this the bairn o' this house?"Says the Lammikin;50"The only bairn Lord Weire aughts,"The false nourice did sing.
Lammikin nipped the bonnie babe,While loud false nourice sings;Lammikin nipped the bonnie babe,55Till high the red blude springs.
"Still my bairn, nourice,O still him if ye can:""He will not still, madam,For a' his father's lan'."60
"O gentle nourice, still my bairn,O still him wi' the keys:""He will not still, fair lady,Let me do what I please."
"O still my bairn, kind nourice,65O still him wi' the ring:""He will not still, my lady,Let me do any thing."
"O still my bairn, gude nourice,O still him wi' the knife:"70"He will not still, dear mistress mine,Gin I'd lay down my life."
"Sweet nourice, loud, loud cries my bairn,O still him wi' the bell:""He will not still, dear lady,75Till ye cum down yoursell."
The first step she stepped,She stepped on a stane,The next step she stepped,She met the Lammikin.80
And when she saw the red, red blude,A loud skriech skrieched she:"O monster, monster, spare my child,Who never skaithed thee!
"O spare, if in your bluidy breast85Abides not heart of stane!O spare, an' ye sall hae o' goldThat ye can carry hame!"
"I carena for your gold," he said,"I carena for your fee:90I hae been wranged by your lord,Black vengeance ye sall drie.
"Here are nae serfs to guard your haa's,Nae trusty spearmen here;In yon green wood they sound the horn,95And chace the doe and deer.
"Tho merry sounds the gude green woodWi' huntsmen, hounds, and horn,Your lord sall rue ere sets yon sunHe has done me skaith and scorn."100
"O nourice, wanted ye your meat,Or wanted ye your fee,Or wanted ye for any thing,A fair lady could gie?"
"I wanted for nae meat, ladie,105I wanted for nae fee;But I wanted for a hantleA fair lady could gie."
Then Lammikin drew his red, red sword,And sharped it on a stane,110And through and through this fair ladie,The cauld, cauld steel is gane.
Nor lang was't after this foul deed,Till Lord Weire cumin' hame,Thocht he saw his sweet bairn's bluid115Sprinkled on a stane.
"I wish a' may be weel," he says,"Wi' my ladie at hame;For the rings upon my fingersAre bursting in twain."120
But mair he look'd, and dule saw he,On the door at the trance,Spots o' his dear ladys bluidShining like a lance.
"There's bluid in my nursery,125There's bluid in my ha',There's bluid in my fair lady's bower,An' that's warst of a'."
O sweet, sweet sang the birdie,Upon the bough sae hie,130But little cared false nourice for that,For it was her gallows tree.
Then out he set, and his braw menRode a' the country roun';Ere lang they faud the Lammikin135Had sheltered near to Downe.
They carried him a' airts o' wind,And mickle pain had he,At last before Lord Weire's gateThey hanged him on the tree.140
From Richardson'sBorderer's Table-Book, viii. 410.
The lord said to his ladie,As he mounted his horse,"Beware of Long LonkinThat lies in the moss."The lord said to his ladie,5As he rode away,"Beware of Long LonkinThat lies in the clay.""What care I for Lonkin,Or any of his gang?10My doors are all shutAnd my windows penned in."There are six little windows,And they were all shut,But one little window,15And that was forgot.* * * * * ** * * * * *And at that little windowLong Lonkin crept in."Where's the lord of the hall?"Says the Lonkin;20"He's gone up to London,"Says Orange to him."Where's the men of the hall?"Says the Lonkin;"They're at the field ploughing,"25Says Orange to him."Where's the maids of the hall?"Says the Lonkin;"They're at the well washing,"Says Orange to him.30"Where's the ladies of the hall?"Says the Lonkin;"They're up in their chambers,"Says Orange to him."How shall we get them down?"35Says the Lonkin;"Prick the babe in the cradle,"Says Orange to him."Rock well my cradle,And bee-ba my son;40Ye shall have a new gownWhen the lord he comes home."Still she did prick it,And bee-ba she cried;"Come down, dearest mistress,45And still your own child.""O still my child, Orange,Still him with a bell;""I can't still him, ladie,Till you come down yoursell."50* * * * * *"Hold the gold basin,For your heart's blood to run in,"* * * * * ** * * * * *"To hold the gold basin,It grieves me full sore;Oh kill me, dear Lonkin,55And let my mother go."* * * * * *
The lord said to his ladie,As he mounted his horse,"Beware of Long LonkinThat lies in the moss."
The lord said to his ladie,5As he rode away,"Beware of Long LonkinThat lies in the clay."
"What care I for Lonkin,Or any of his gang?10My doors are all shutAnd my windows penned in."
There are six little windows,And they were all shut,But one little window,15And that was forgot.
* * * * * ** * * * * *And at that little windowLong Lonkin crept in.
"Where's the lord of the hall?"Says the Lonkin;20"He's gone up to London,"Says Orange to him.
"Where's the men of the hall?"Says the Lonkin;"They're at the field ploughing,"25Says Orange to him.
"Where's the maids of the hall?"Says the Lonkin;"They're at the well washing,"Says Orange to him.30
"Where's the ladies of the hall?"Says the Lonkin;"They're up in their chambers,"Says Orange to him.
"How shall we get them down?"35Says the Lonkin;"Prick the babe in the cradle,"Says Orange to him.
"Rock well my cradle,And bee-ba my son;40Ye shall have a new gownWhen the lord he comes home."
Still she did prick it,And bee-ba she cried;"Come down, dearest mistress,45And still your own child."
"O still my child, Orange,Still him with a bell;""I can't still him, ladie,Till you come down yoursell."50
* * * * * *
"Hold the gold basin,For your heart's blood to run in,"
* * * * * ** * * * * *"To hold the gold basin,It grieves me full sore;Oh kill me, dear Lonkin,55And let my mother go."
* * * * * *
"John Kincaid, Laird of Waristoun, (an estate situated between the city of Edinburgh and the sea, towards Leith,) was murdered, on the 2d of July, 1600, by a man named Robert Weir, who was employed to do so by his wife, Jean Livingstone, daughter of the Laird of Dunipace. The unfortunate woman, who thus became implicated in a crime so revolting to humanity, was only twenty-one years of age at the time. It is probable from some circumstances, that her husband was considerably older than herself, and also that their marriage was any thing but one of love. It is only alleged, however, that she was instigated to seek his death by resentment for some bad treatment on his part, and, in particular, for a bite which he had inflicted on her arm. There was something extraordinary in the deliberation with which this wretched woman approached the awful gulf of crime. Having resolved on the means to be employed in the murder, she sent for a quondam servant of her father, Robert Weir, who lived in the neighbouring city. He came to the place of Waristoun, to see her; but, for some unexplained reason was not admitted. She again sent for him, and he again went. Again he was not admitted.At length, on his being called a third time, he was introduced to her presence. Before this time she had found an accomplice in the nurse of her child. It was then arranged, that Weir should be concealed in a cellar till the dead of night, when he should come forth and proceed to destroy the laird as he lay in his chamber. The bloody tragedy was acted precisely in accordance with this plan. Weir was brought up, at midnight, from the cellar to the hall by the lady herself, and afterwards went forward alone to the laird's bedroom. As he proceeded to his bloody work, she retired to her bed, to wait the intelligence of her husband's murder. When Weir entered the chamber, Waristoun awoke with the noise, and leant inquiringly over the side of the bed. The murderer then leapt upon him; the unhappy man uttered a great cry; Weir gave him several dreadful blows on vital parts, particularly one on the flank vein. But as the laird was still able to cry out, he at length saw fit to take more effective measures: he seized him by the throat with both hands, and compressing that part with all his force, succeeded, after a few minutes, in depriving him of life. When the lady heard her husband's first death-shout, she leapt out of bed, in an agony of mingled horror and repentance, and descended to the hall: but she made no effort to countermand her mission of destruction. She waited patiently till Weir came down to inform her that all was over.
"Weir made an immediate escape from justice; but Lady Waristoun and the nurse were apprehended before the deed was half a day old. Being caught, as the Scottish law terms it,red-hand,—that is, while still bearing unequivocal marks of guilt, they wereimmediately tried by the magistrates of Edinburgh, and sentenced to be strangled and burnt at a stake. The lady's father, the Laird of Dunipace, was a favourite of King James VI., and he made all the interest he could with his majesty to procure a pardon; but all that could be obtained from the king, was an order that the unhappy lady should be executed by decapitation, and that at such an early hour in the morning as to make the affair as little of a spectacle as possible.
"The space intervening between her sentence and her execution was only thirty-seven hours; yet, in that little time, Lady Waristoun contrived to become converted from a blood-stained and unrelenting murderess into a perfect saint on earth. One of the then ministers of Edinburgh has left an account of her conversion, which was lately published, and would be extremely amusing, were it not for the disgust which seizes the mind on beholding such an instance of perverted religion. She went to the scaffold with a demeanour which would have graced a martyr. Her lips were incessant in the utterance of pious exclamations. She professed herself confident of everlasting happiness. She even grudged every moment which she spent in this world, as so much taken from that sum of eternal felicity which she was to enjoy in the next. The people who came to witness the last scene, instead of having their minds inspired with salutary horror for her crime, were engrossed in admiration of her saintly behaviour, and greedily gathered up every devout word which fell from her tongue. It would almost appear from the narrative of the clergyman, that her fate was rather a matter of envy than of any other feeling. Her execution took place at four inthe morning of the 5th of July, at the Watergate, near Holyroodhouse; and at the same hour her nurse was burnt on the castle-hill. It is some gratification to know, that the actual murderer, Weir, was eventually seized and executed, though not till four years after."
Chambers'sScottish Ballads, p. 129.
From Buchan'sBallads of the North of Scotland, i. 56.
My mother was an ill woman,In fifteen years she married me;I hadna wit to guide a man,Alas! ill counsel guided me.O Warriston, O Warriston,5I wish that ye may sink for sin;I was but bare fifteen years auld,Whan first I enter'd your yates within.I hadna been a month married,Till my gude lord went to the sea;10I bare a bairn ere he came hame,And set it on the nourice knee.But it fell ance upon a day,That my gude lord return'd from sea;Then I did dress in the best array,15As blythe as ony bird on tree.I took my young son in my arms,Likewise my nourice me forebye,And I went down to yon shore side,My gude lord's vessel I might spy.20My lord he stood upon the deck,I wyte he hail'd me courteouslie;"Ye are thrice welcome, my lady gay,Whase aught that bairn on your knee?"She turn'd her right and round about,25Says, "Why take ye sic dreads o' me?Alas! I was too young married,To love another man but thee.""Now hold your tongue, my lady gay,Nae mair falsehoods ye'll tell to me;30This bonny bairn is not mine,You've loved another while I was on sea."In discontent then hame she went,And aye the tear did blin' her e'e;Says, "Of this wretch I'll be revenged,35For these harsh words he's said to me."She's counsell'd wi' her father's steward,What way she cou'd revenged be;Bad was the counsel then he gave,—It was to gar her gude lord dee.40The nourice took the deed in hand,I wat she was well paid her fee;She kiest the knot, and the loop she ran,Which soon did gar this young lord dee.His brother lay in a room hard by,45Alas! that night he slept too soun';But then he waken'd wi a cry,"I fear my brother's putten down."O get me coal and candle light,And get me some gude companie;"50But before the light was brought,Warriston he was gart dee.They've ta'en the lady and fause nourice,In prison strong they ha'e them boun';The nourice she was hard o' heart,55But the bonny lady fell in swoon.In it came her brother dear,And aye a sorry man was he;"I wou'd gie a' the lands I heir,O bonny Jean, to borrow thee."60"O borrow me brother, borrow me,—O borrow'd shall I never be;For I gart kill my ain gude lord,And life is nae pleasure to me."In it came her mother dear,65I wyte a sorry woman was she;"I wou'd gie my white monie and gowd,O bonny Jean, to borrow thee.""Borrow me mother, borrow me,—O borrow'd shall I never be;70For I gart kill my ain gude lord,And life's now nae pleasure to me."Then in it came her father dear,I wyte a sorry man was he;Says, "Ohon, alas! my bonny Jean,75If I had you at hame wi' me."Seven daughters I ha'e left at hame,As fair women as fair can be;But I wou'd gi'e them ane by ane,O bonny Jean, to borrow thee."80"O borrow me father, borrow me,—O borrow'd shall I never be;I that is worthy o' the death,It is but right that I shou'd dee."Then out it speaks the king himsell,85And aye as he steps in the fleer;Says, "I grant you your life, lady,Because you are of tender year.""A boon, a boon, my liege the king,The boon I ask, ye'll grant to me:"90"Ask on, ask on, my bonny Jean,Whate'er ye ask it's granted be.""Cause take me out at night, at night,Lat not the sun upon me shine;And take me to yon heading hill,95Strike aff this dowie head o' mine."Ye'll take me out at night, at night,When there are nane to gaze and see;And ha'e me to yon heading hill,And ye'll gar head me speedilie."100They've ta'en her out at nine at night,Loot not the sun upon her shine;And had her to yon heading hill,And headed her baith neat and fine.Then out it speaks the king himsell,105I wyte a sorry man was he;"I've travell'd east, I've travell'd west,And sailed far beyond the sea,But I never saw a woman's faceI was sae sorry to see dee.110"But Warriston was sair to blame,For slighting o' his lady so;He had the wyte o' his ain death,And bonny lady's overthrow."
My mother was an ill woman,In fifteen years she married me;I hadna wit to guide a man,Alas! ill counsel guided me.
O Warriston, O Warriston,5I wish that ye may sink for sin;I was but bare fifteen years auld,Whan first I enter'd your yates within.
I hadna been a month married,Till my gude lord went to the sea;10I bare a bairn ere he came hame,And set it on the nourice knee.
But it fell ance upon a day,That my gude lord return'd from sea;Then I did dress in the best array,15As blythe as ony bird on tree.
I took my young son in my arms,Likewise my nourice me forebye,And I went down to yon shore side,My gude lord's vessel I might spy.20
My lord he stood upon the deck,I wyte he hail'd me courteouslie;"Ye are thrice welcome, my lady gay,Whase aught that bairn on your knee?"
She turn'd her right and round about,25Says, "Why take ye sic dreads o' me?Alas! I was too young married,To love another man but thee."
"Now hold your tongue, my lady gay,Nae mair falsehoods ye'll tell to me;30This bonny bairn is not mine,You've loved another while I was on sea."
In discontent then hame she went,And aye the tear did blin' her e'e;Says, "Of this wretch I'll be revenged,35For these harsh words he's said to me."
She's counsell'd wi' her father's steward,What way she cou'd revenged be;Bad was the counsel then he gave,—It was to gar her gude lord dee.40
The nourice took the deed in hand,I wat she was well paid her fee;She kiest the knot, and the loop she ran,Which soon did gar this young lord dee.
His brother lay in a room hard by,45Alas! that night he slept too soun';But then he waken'd wi a cry,"I fear my brother's putten down.
"O get me coal and candle light,And get me some gude companie;"50But before the light was brought,Warriston he was gart dee.
They've ta'en the lady and fause nourice,In prison strong they ha'e them boun';The nourice she was hard o' heart,55But the bonny lady fell in swoon.
In it came her brother dear,And aye a sorry man was he;"I wou'd gie a' the lands I heir,O bonny Jean, to borrow thee."60
"O borrow me brother, borrow me,—O borrow'd shall I never be;For I gart kill my ain gude lord,And life is nae pleasure to me."
In it came her mother dear,65I wyte a sorry woman was she;"I wou'd gie my white monie and gowd,O bonny Jean, to borrow thee."
"Borrow me mother, borrow me,—O borrow'd shall I never be;70For I gart kill my ain gude lord,And life's now nae pleasure to me."
Then in it came her father dear,I wyte a sorry man was he;Says, "Ohon, alas! my bonny Jean,75If I had you at hame wi' me.
"Seven daughters I ha'e left at hame,As fair women as fair can be;But I wou'd gi'e them ane by ane,O bonny Jean, to borrow thee."80
"O borrow me father, borrow me,—O borrow'd shall I never be;I that is worthy o' the death,It is but right that I shou'd dee."
Then out it speaks the king himsell,85And aye as he steps in the fleer;Says, "I grant you your life, lady,Because you are of tender year."
"A boon, a boon, my liege the king,The boon I ask, ye'll grant to me:"90"Ask on, ask on, my bonny Jean,Whate'er ye ask it's granted be."
"Cause take me out at night, at night,Lat not the sun upon me shine;And take me to yon heading hill,95Strike aff this dowie head o' mine.
"Ye'll take me out at night, at night,When there are nane to gaze and see;And ha'e me to yon heading hill,And ye'll gar head me speedilie."100
They've ta'en her out at nine at night,Loot not the sun upon her shine;And had her to yon heading hill,And headed her baith neat and fine.
Then out it speaks the king himsell,105I wyte a sorry man was he;"I've travell'd east, I've travell'd west,And sailed far beyond the sea,But I never saw a woman's faceI was sae sorry to see dee.110
"But Warriston was sair to blame,For slighting o' his lady so;He had the wyte o' his ain death,And bonny lady's overthrow."
A "North Country" version from Kinloch'sAncient Scottish Ballads, p. 252. The Editor furnishes the two following stanzas of another copy:—
My father is the Duke of Argyle,My mother's a lady gay,And I mysel am a daintie dame,And the king desired me.He shaw'd me up, he shaw'd me doun,He shaw'd me to the ha',He shaw'd me to the low cellars,And that was warst of a'.
My father is the Duke of Argyle,My mother's a lady gay,And I mysel am a daintie dame,And the king desired me.
He shaw'd me up, he shaw'd me doun,He shaw'd me to the ha',He shaw'd me to the low cellars,And that was warst of a'.
In one of Motherwell's copies, and in Buchan's, the heroine calls herself daughter of the Duke of York.
"Whan I was a babe, and a very little babe,And stood at my mither's knee,Nae witch nor warlock did unfauldThe death I was to dree."But my mither was a proud woman,5A proud woman and a bauld;And she hired me to Queen Mary's bouerWhen scarce eleven years auld."O happy, happy, is the maid,That's born of beauty free!10It was my dimpling rosy cheeksThat's been the dule o' me;And wae be to that weirdless wicht,And a' his witcherie."Word's gane up and word's gane doun,15And word's gane to the ha',That Mary Hamilton was wi' bairn,And na body ken'd to wha.But in and cam the Queen hersel,Wi' gowd plait on her hair;—20Says, "Mary Hamilton, whare is the babeThat I heard greet sae sair?""There is na babe within my bouer,And I hope there ne'er will be;But it's me wi' a sair and sick colic,25And I'm just like to dee."But they looked up, they looked down,Atween the bowsters and the wa',It's there they got a bonnie lad-bairn,But it's life it was awa'.30"Rise up, rise up, Mary Hamilton,Rise up, and dress ye fine,For you maun gang to Edinbruch,And stand afore the nine."Ye'll no put on the dowie black,35Nor yet the dowie brown;But ye'll put on the robes o' red,To sheen thro' Edinbruch town.""I'll no put on the dowie black,Nor yet the dowie brown;40But I'll put on the robes o' red,To sheen thro' Edinbruch town."As they gaed thro' Edinbruch town,And down by the Nether-bow,There war monie a lady fair45Siching and crying, "Och how!""O weep na mair for me, ladies,Weep na mair for me;Yestreen I killed my ain bairn,The day I deserve to dee.50"What need ye hech! and how! ladies,What need ye how! for me;Ye never saw grace at a graceless face,—Queen Mary has nane to gie.""Gae forward, gae forward," the Queen she said,"Gae forward, that ye may see;55For the very same words that ye hae said,Sall hang ye on the gallows tree."As she gaed up the Tolbooth stairs,She gied loud lauchters three;60But or ever she cam down again,She was condemn'd to dee."O tak example frae me, Maries,O tak example frae me,Nor gie your luve to courtly lords,65Nor heed their witchin' ee."But wae be to the Queen hersel,She micht hae pardon'd me;But sair she's striven for me to hangUpon the gallows tree.70"Yestreen the Queen had four Maries,The nicht she'll hae but three;There was Mary Beatoun, Mary Seaton,And Mary Carmichael, and me."Aft hae I set pearls in her hair,75Aft hae I lac'd her gown,And this is the reward I now get,To be hang'd in Edinbruch town!"O a' ye mariners, far and near,That sail ayont the faem,80O dinna let my father and mither ken,But what I am coming hame."O a' ye mariners, far and near,That sail ayont the sea,Let na my father and mither ken,85The death I am to dee."Sae, weep na mair for me, ladies,Weep na mair for me,The mither that kills her ain bairn,Deserves weel for to dee."90* * * * * * * *
"Whan I was a babe, and a very little babe,And stood at my mither's knee,Nae witch nor warlock did unfauldThe death I was to dree.
"But my mither was a proud woman,5A proud woman and a bauld;And she hired me to Queen Mary's bouerWhen scarce eleven years auld.
"O happy, happy, is the maid,That's born of beauty free!10It was my dimpling rosy cheeksThat's been the dule o' me;And wae be to that weirdless wicht,And a' his witcherie."
Word's gane up and word's gane doun,15And word's gane to the ha',That Mary Hamilton was wi' bairn,And na body ken'd to wha.
But in and cam the Queen hersel,Wi' gowd plait on her hair;—20Says, "Mary Hamilton, whare is the babeThat I heard greet sae sair?"
"There is na babe within my bouer,And I hope there ne'er will be;But it's me wi' a sair and sick colic,25And I'm just like to dee."
But they looked up, they looked down,Atween the bowsters and the wa',It's there they got a bonnie lad-bairn,But it's life it was awa'.30
"Rise up, rise up, Mary Hamilton,Rise up, and dress ye fine,For you maun gang to Edinbruch,And stand afore the nine.
"Ye'll no put on the dowie black,35Nor yet the dowie brown;But ye'll put on the robes o' red,To sheen thro' Edinbruch town."
"I'll no put on the dowie black,Nor yet the dowie brown;40But I'll put on the robes o' red,To sheen thro' Edinbruch town."
As they gaed thro' Edinbruch town,And down by the Nether-bow,There war monie a lady fair45Siching and crying, "Och how!"
"O weep na mair for me, ladies,Weep na mair for me;Yestreen I killed my ain bairn,The day I deserve to dee.50
"What need ye hech! and how! ladies,What need ye how! for me;Ye never saw grace at a graceless face,—Queen Mary has nane to gie."
"Gae forward, gae forward," the Queen she said,"Gae forward, that ye may see;55For the very same words that ye hae said,Sall hang ye on the gallows tree."
As she gaed up the Tolbooth stairs,She gied loud lauchters three;60But or ever she cam down again,She was condemn'd to dee.
"O tak example frae me, Maries,O tak example frae me,Nor gie your luve to courtly lords,65Nor heed their witchin' ee.
"But wae be to the Queen hersel,She micht hae pardon'd me;But sair she's striven for me to hangUpon the gallows tree.70
"Yestreen the Queen had four Maries,The nicht she'll hae but three;There was Mary Beatoun, Mary Seaton,And Mary Carmichael, and me.
"Aft hae I set pearls in her hair,75Aft hae I lac'd her gown,And this is the reward I now get,To be hang'd in Edinbruch town!
"O a' ye mariners, far and near,That sail ayont the faem,80O dinna let my father and mither ken,But what I am coming hame.
"O a' ye mariners, far and near,That sail ayont the sea,Let na my father and mither ken,85The death I am to dee.
"Sae, weep na mair for me, ladies,Weep na mair for me,The mither that kills her ain bairn,Deserves weel for to dee."90
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